Sherlock Holmes stood in his flat, playing the violin. The songs swirled around him, engulfing him in colors. Each stroke of his bow produced a flurry of new patterns and shapes, filling the flat with colors. Sherlock loved the colors. Ever since he could remember, they had always been there. Every time he played the violin, the beautiful colors would surround him, giving Sherlock a feeling of bliss and content. He'd never told anyone about the colors before- only because he assumed that everyone saw them.

Mrs. Hudson walked into the room, carrying a tray of tea. "That's beautiful playing dear." she remarked, smiling warmly.

"Yes, the colors are quite remarkable today." replied Sherlock.

Mrs. Hudson laughed. "What colors? Are you hallucinating again?"

"No I-" Sherlock paused his playing. He did a reality check. The clock on the mantle was valid. The smiley face on the wall was smiling. Each of the bullet-holes in the wall was in the correct place. Sherlock was not hallucinating, or dreaming.

"I'm not."

"Well, there are certainly no colors!" With that, Mrs. Hudson left to go tidy up the stairway.

There were no colors. Sherlock tried to tell himself this, but he was sure he had seen them. He picked up his violin and played a short song. Sure enough, the colors were there, filling the room. Pinks and blues were cascading down the curtains and greens and oranges were circling Sherlock's head. Reds and yellows floated from wall to wall, and purple bits flashed in the air. The colors were real. So why did only Sherlock see them?

"John."

"What?"

"You colored the title of that case on your blog wrong."

"What's wrong with it?"

"S isn't blue."

"It doesn't have a color Sherlock."

"But it's yellow."

"You're going mad. It doesn't have a color."

"Yes it does. It's yellow."

"It's not."

"Fine. Whatever."

Sherlock was having his once a week check-up with Mycroft. Sitting in Mycroft's large leather chair, he glared at his brother, who insisted on checking his, 'well being.'

"Have I ever told you that you're the most putrid green color?" Sherlock blurted out.

"What?" Mycroft returned the glare.

"You're this ugly green-brown color that I hate." Sherlock spat.

"Color? What do you mean color?" Mycroft asked.

"You just- are! I don't know, but you've always been that way." Sherlock crossed his arms and sank lower in the chair, as if he was a pouting child.

"Sherlock, stop this nonsense. I know you'd do anything to get out of this, but it's not going to work. Let's continue, shall we?" Mycroft then returned to his interrogation of Sherlock, much to Sherlock's annoyance. Why didn't anyone understand?

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Make your 'M's so big. M is an idiot and doesn't deserve to be larger than the rest of the letters." Sherlock pointed at the large letter 'M' on Molly's paperwork.

"What do you mean?" Molly paused her work, interested in what Sherlock was saying.

"Well, M is the worst of all the letters. He's rude, ignorant, and an utter drama queen."

"Really? Because I think M is actually quite nice. He may be a bit vain, and a little ignorant, but he's not so bad once you get to know him." Molly replied.

Sherlock scoffed. "And he's a horrible green color. Not Mycroft green- but dark green. I don't like it."

"But M is blue!" Molly shouted, "He's blue!"

"What?" Sherlock retorted, "How is he blue? Blue is the opposite of what he is, he's green!"

Molly and Sherlock kept on arguing, while John and Lestrade watched from a distance.

"Are you following this?" John asked.

"Kinda." replied Lestrade, "I don't understand it, but I think I can follow it."

"Ha." laughed John, "That makes two of us."

Thanks for reading! This condition that I portrayed Sherlock having is called synesthesia, where one's neural passageways are crossed, causing a mixing of the senses, like music having color, or letters having personalities. I have this condition, so people, letters and numbers, weekdays, and a lot of other thing have color for me. :)

Please review! I love tips!

-Bunny