Dear Diary,
Oh dear, we still haven't told John yet.
I sometimes feel really guilty when I think about it, and then an urge to laugh hysterically tends to take over.
We didn't plan it. I was sitting in my office hoping for a decent applicant to respond to my ad in the newspaper, when in walked a short, sensible sort of a man with a face that looked a little like a basset hound's. I love basset hounds.
He was cute, I liked him, and he seemed qualified. I hired him on the spot.
The problem is, John's not really one to drop random details into conversation. I simply thought he was a nice guy with a military history.
Well, I guess it's my fault, too. I certainly wasn't going to call either one of my brothers for an opinion. No, Sir, I decided a long time ago that they weren't going to hear anything until an official engagement. Scratch that, they're not going to be in on it until the wedding invitations. Anyway, if I'd only known, I'd have made an exception.
I had a mad crush on John right away, though he had some odd habits like falling asleep during his shift or dashing out to sudden appointments. He was a good doctor, though, and those aren't that easy to find.
The trouble started for real when he asked me to the circus. He'd told me he had a flatmate, but he didn't talk about much about his home life, so I was excited when he asked me out for a real date that I hoped might include a little more insight into his life outside the hospital.
I remember him saying, "My flatmate's a little different, Sarah," as we were walking toward the circus. I had no idea. None at all. Unpardonably unobservant in retrospect. "He said he'd be out for the evening, so you probably won't meet him. Home's a frightful mess, though. He's not very tidy."
I smiled. "What was his name?" Only, John didn't answer because someone bumped into us, and we reached the box office right after that.
I heard two phrases: "three tickets" and "Holmes."
I stood slightly behind John, feeling like someone was playing a very strange practical joke on me. Within seconds, the long, spare frame of a man brushed against me, and I looked up to meet the disconcerting eyes of my brother Sherlock.