The Inevitable
A tall lanky form lay prostrate on the old couch, the pale frame cloaked in a blue dressing gown. His curly black hair fell over his eyes, and he pouted in frustration. The fact he had even bothered to put clothing on surprised me. I sat in my armchair, laptop resting on my legs. I was half way through the newest entry on my blog. It was tempting to write about what I saw on the couch, but I was midway through documenting out latest case. And I knew Sherlock hated when I mentioned anything that might make him appear human. He says people don't care, but I know differently. Not that I could ever convince him of that.
It's nice not to be continually running around the dirty grey streets, chasing any number of strange and dangerous criminals. Much as I enjoy the occasional peace and quiet, I know that my roommate thrived on action, and couldn't stand even a single moment of being unemployed in a case of experiment.
As I sat there I saw his chest rise, and then fall with a sigh. I counted, waiting for the inevitable. One, two , three, four, five. "I'm bored…"