"John?" Sherlock called, poking his head out into the hall.

"What is it now? Calling me over to pelt me with pillows again?" John said from the living room, clearly not wanting to deal with the 'High functioning sociopath' at the moment.

"I need you to stop by the shops and pick me up a journal. I seemed to have misplaced mine." Sherlock said flatly.

"A journal?" John said, interested. "Is that what you've been looking for this whole time?"

"Yes, very important," Sherlock began, rolling his eyes, "You must buy me a new one at once before I start to forget the entries."

A journal…Sherlock keeps a journal? John thought. This was new. John got up immediately and walked to Sherlock's bedroom door to discuss of the journal he had never heard of before.

"And what exactly did you write in this journal?" John questioned with a grin, clearly amused by the idea of Sherlock writing about thoughts he kept personal.

Sherlock knew the question would come up, and had a lie (he put a great deal of thought into) prepared for the occasion.

"Results to my experiments, conclusions to our cases, a book of success, you could call it." Sherlock said, trying to sound as if it were nothing.

John stood there for a moment with his arms crossed, inspecting Sherlock's face for a sign of embarrassment. Didn't this man feel anything?

"You're lying." John said

"Don't be absurd." Sherlock replied, with a look that said, 'What in god's name is wrong with you?'

"No, you're lying. There's bloody more in that book than what you're telling me! If there wasn't, you wouldn't have gone to hell and back looking for it." John said, getting a little too carried away.

"And just what do you think I kept in this journal?" Sherlock asked, now opening the door to fully face John.

John looked passed Sherlock, gazed around the disaster, and looked back at his face, staring straight into his eyes. He began to speak slowly, with a serious tone. "I think you have feeling, Sherlock. Feelings you keep deep and personal. Things you could never bring yourself to say out loud."

Both men stared unmoving at each other for a long moment with dead serious expressions, then bursted out laughing at John's ridiculous accusation.

Sherlock couldn't help but roll his eyes again, still giggling and shaking his head. He leaned up against the doorway, ready to hear a ridiculous earful from John, about feelings. Ugh. "It's perfectly normal" Sherlock expected to hear, "Hatred, jealousy, sympathy, depression.", but John surprised him.

"I think you fancy a girl." John said, and smiled from ear to ear when Sherlock began to blush.

He had to take a brief second to compose his thoughts, before images of her rushed through his mind. The scent of her hair as she would swiftly pass by, how clever she looks in that long white lab coat, everything about her is just...perfect. No, back to reality. He wouldn't want to stutter in front of John.

"Some things are best left to the imagination." Sherlock said with a small smile. He could not help the light shade of pink his face was turning, because John was right. John was absolutely right.

More chapters to come!