Hey. Just a few word before we begin. I'm sorry to anyone who has been waiting. My attention is a bit fickle so I dart around stories and a lot of them don't end up online. Sorry for the wait.


"Hello again Mr Holmes." John said. He had gotten out of the taxi and walked to the front door only to see Sherlock arrive directly after him. There was something about Sherlock's mind…a clarity, that no-one else had. His mind drove straight to the point like a sharpened dagger, and he wielded it like a weapon.

"Call me Sherlock. Shall we go in?" John grinned he heard Sherlock rattle off observations about Mrs Hudson's health, and John's state of mind. Sherlock was already hypothesising that John had some sort of "precognition", but he didn't want to believe it was supernatural.

John went upstairs after Sherlock and saw the clutter. He heard Sherlock wish for his approval of the clutter. So that's what John gave.

"Wow. Been enjoying it have you?" John saw the contrast. The disorganisation was a direct comparison to Sherlock's mind, and yet things were as sorted in the flat as they were in Sherlock's mind palace. Sherlock almost blushed – almost – he reigned himself in before he did.

"Uh…Yeah. Ooh! I had some questions for you." John quickly checked is it really "intuition"?, can you see the future?, are you a mind reader? Obviously Sherlock would re-word them, but he had changed his mind. John inhaled, was he really about to tell Sherlock everyt-

"Um… What were you finding funny yesterday?" It was odd. Sherlock was getting flustered in John's presence. John was an unknown element and Sherlock wanted to know everything. He wanted to know how, to learn how if possible. Sherlock was flustered because finally there was a mind that was not ordinary, and John could see that he wasn't often flustered. Sherlock himself was questioning it.

"Oh come on. You've got better questions than that." John teased him. He probed until he was sitting just inside Sherlock's mind. Very few would be able to feel his presence. He was just listening to the stream of thought one step below consciousness.

"Yes," Sherlock gave a mental sigh, John almost chuckled. "Are you a mind reader? I don't want to soun-" John had this power that few telepaths do. He pulled a single word from his mind into Sherlock's. Yes.

Sherlock's eyes went wide as he was surprised by this but then he started grinning.

"Yes! I knew it! Oh the experiments we can run…Is it like a muscle Have you ever met another telepath Can you give people the gift Oh can you give it to me I want it How did you get it Were you born with it Is your entire family telepaths Do they know Does your family know you a telepath Are you the black sheep of the family because you can read their minds-" Sherlock was buzzing with excitement. John calmed him. It was…suggesting…to his mind that it should slow down.

"How did you do that?" Sherlock had gone slightly drowsy.

"It's been two days since you slept. Sleep. I'll be here in the morning." John went to go make tea. Sherlock reached out after him. His hand outstretched until it fell with his eyelids.


Before you go. Review please. And if anyone felt like making a cover for this story. I would be very happy. Of course you mind need a moment to make it about. Do any artists read my stories?