A/N: Sadly, not mine. Really, truly, dearly, wish that I could at least meet Benedict and Martin though. And get pictures of it...

Why? Why not

Sessha-chan


John wondered if he was the crazy one in the flat and not Sherlock. After all, he reasoned, who is madder: the madman or the fool who follows the madman willingly and knowingly into dark tunnels in the search of violent assassins? Thankfully cases like those were few and far between, not that Sherlock couldn't turn even the most banal into gripping drama just for the sake of making a show (mostly a show of how dissatisfied he was with the lack of interesting crime in the world). Most of the people that came to Sherlock to engage his services were either turned down (honestly, John thought, the poor people had to present their case to Sherlock like some sort of petition to a tetchy god) or ejected with their answer within the span of half an hour, usually less.

John took notes of those cases, but they didn't seem to make it onto his blog. To pedestrian, John reasoned. That, and he didn't feel comfortable writing about people's common affairs and dirty laundry when it really was so very... common.

As a doctor John had seen a lot. As a soldier he had seen Hell. As Sherlock's flatmate (and personal blogger, it seemed) John was introduced to the tangled web of humanity's imagination from a different angle.

And it fascinated him.

Well, it would be more accurate to say that watching Sherlock dissect the world about him was what fascinated John. Mycroft may be more brilliant than his younger brother but the British Government was content with merely ruling the world. James Moriatry was possibly Sherlock's equal but... like a poison the short Irishman tainted the world around him and revelled in twisting perceptions. Sherlock was more than accurate describing him as a spider. Her was a spider, a poisonous one.

At first John had first followed Sherlock out of curiosity. Then he followed him out of interest. John had killed because he had borne witness the brilliance of true genius and the potential for that genius to become something truly marvellous.

Now? Why did John stay with the madman who dragged him into life threatening situation without a nod of warning?

It was simple: Sherlock was his friend.

Even if he did irritate the life out of John.