It was months after they moved in the John noticed that Sherlock selection of books was almost all non-fiction. However there was a small section of fiction: Neil Gaiman and Alan Moore. And one day when Sherlock was laying at the sofa with a look of utter boredom and hate.
John said: "You could read one of your books."
"No!" Sherlock hissed. "They're all references for my work. What would be the point?"
"The Alan Moore and Neil Gaiman?" asked John.
"Gifts. They happen to be friends of mine, they give their bloody books" Sherlock said. "Doesn't mean I have to read the bloody things."
"Wait... you're friends with Neil Gaiman and Alan Moore?" John raised his eyebrows.
"I know Alan and I used to know the same grower." Sherlock said. "I did smoke quite a bit of Marijuana once. The grower had some trouble with someone embezzling, so I helped him, thought I was a 'friend' invited me to a party. I met Alan there. He thought I was Neil. Mad as a spoon, but brilliant. I only corrected him half way through our conversation."
"That's odd for you," John said.
"The man is a giant, I was stoned and besides he was the most interesting person in the whole room," Sherlock said. "We laughed about it. Of course that night we laughed at the wall."
"Oh, so Neil Gaiman?" John asked.
"It isn't it obvious John," Sherlock sighed contemptuously. "Before you made me famous with your blog and Scotland Yard consulted me frequently. My friend Neil would sometimes hire me as a body double."
"What? He's a writer, he's not that famous. He's not Stephen King or-" John started.
"You know who he is." Sherlock said.
"Yes but I read," John said. "I bet..."
"He has hordes of mad, grabby, obscene fans. He's considered attractive and charming and writes things people like. They call him the rock-star god of writing for god's sake! I even enjoy his company, even I thought I'd never enjoy myself in the company of a fiction writer," Said Sherlock. "We have common interests. So at large events I would travel with him, do a passable impression of him. So he could slip away from the ravening hordes of groupies. I didn't like it much either, but a quick and brutal insult shuts the lunatics down instantly."
"But you don't read either of their books," John said.
"I read the wikipedia summaries, and reviews," Sherlock said. "Besides when you get a call at 3:00 am from the states asking if know about what happens exactly when you boil humans eyeballs for 15 minutes-"
"-Must get annoying," said John.
"No wonderful! I loved that!" said Sherlock. "However, I'm avoiding both at the moment. Neil re-married. His new wife loves your blog. Wants to meet me. I think even dropping in on Alan might be risky. Neil and Amanda tend to 'pop' up. The new Mrs. Gaiman looks like she hugs and touches people. I don't want a hug."
"And that's it?" John said. "Maybe you should read them. Watchmen at least."
"Fine." Sherlock grumbled.
He got off the couch and pulled it off the shelf.
The next day there was stack of every fiction book Sherlock owned and he was typing two furious e-mails down one to each friend. John noticed one from each laptop.