John Watson was not your average Fellow, The first sign of this being that he was a total of six inches tall and he lived in the walls of houses and flats, the owners of which knew nothing of his presence Every now and then they would spot traces of his existence and he would have to move out. So he found himself never getting too attached to an abode. He was in fact one out of thousands of little people like him, all of whom existed for one purpose, blogging.
Unbeknownst to the big people there was a tiny network of blogs about every aspect of their lives existing right under their own roofs. The purpose of the blogs was to study the lives, weaknesses, strengths, and personalities of the larger dominant creatures. They had a mysterious leader, the name and face of who no blogger John had ever met had seen. All John knew was that it was their purpose to keep these records, he never questioned if it was right or wrong. He just did. Another reason for the blogging was the pure fascination that the bloggers had with the big people. The network itself spanned over the entire world, undetectable radio waves and routers allowed them to communicate and share the information they had gathered.
John was currently standing outside the door of his potential new home, His old abode has been suspected of having a rodent infestation. It was a result of John's own carelessness, he had left a smattering of crumbs from a hunk of bread he had taken, lying outside one of the holes he used to move between the house and the walls. It had been dark and he hadn't noticed, which had led to him packing his bag (a doctor's satchel stolen from a dollhouse) and moving out. He had hitched a ride in the undercarriage of a taxi and followed the kindly looking older woman to her door.
So here he was standing on the stoop outside the door of 221B Bakers street preparing to take the next step in his life as a blogger. He took a deep breath and unhooked his makeshift grappling hook from his belt swinging it expertly to hook the mail slot clambering up it and swinging through. The first thing he checked for when he entered was 3 notches cut into the wood of the door. This signified that the house was already inhabited. The marks were nowhere in sight. John sighed and put his hands on his hips.
"I wonder what kind of people live here." He asked himself quietly, completely unaware of what a surprise he was in for.