Author's Note: yes! I pushed past writer's block and finished another chapter. As always, please review and leave suggestions. Your input is greatly appreciated. Thanks! Now, read on...

John walked in the door. "Hello, Sherlock."

"Hello, John. How was your day at work?"

"Typical. And now you know what typical is for me." Sherlock sighed. "What are you going to do now?"

"Well, I've been thinking about writing a book."

"Really? What are you going to call it?"

"I don't know. Maybe 'How I Lost My Mind'."

"So what, an autobiography?"

"Yeah."

"Go for it." And so began the autobiography of Sherlock Holmes.

•••

"Hello, dear reader. I'm pleased to see you have decided to pick up my book. My name is Sherlock Holmes. You've probably heard of me before, but just in case you haven't, I'm a consulting detective. Well, I was. I was a genius. Scotland Yard was always asking me for help, and people would flock to me and ask for my help in solving a case. Everyone wanted my autograph. I was a hero. My flat mate and associate in solving crimes, Dr. John Watson, was proud of me and glad to work with me, but was always berating me about my recklessness. He said my lack of regard for my own safety would get me into trouble one day. I told him I'd be fine. And that's what I thought. Until I got hit by a car.

"Yes, you read those lines correctly. I got hit by a car. I was pursuing a criminal and didn't pay attention to where I was going, and I got hit by a car. A few days later, I woke to see my trusty assistant, John, leaning over me with concern. I didn't know what had happened or really have time to think much at all, as I stayed awake for less than a minute. The next time I woke up, I began to get the details of what had happened to me, and the doctor came to see me. That's when I got the news: I had had a severe concussion. I don't notice anything wrong, I thought. I'll be fine. John had noticed a personality change; I was no longer acting like a sociopath. So I changed a little, I thought. That's kind of annoying, but I'll be fine.

"But then I got the news that changed my life forever: the results of an IQ test. Before, I had the IQ of a genius, 180. I impatiently awaited the results of my IQ test. 118. That was my IQ. 118. Many people would be happy to receive a score of 118. It is, after all, above average. Not me. To me, it meant I was an idiot. I quit my job as a consulting detective and decided it was time to have an average job, as my (slightly more than) average intellect seemed to dictate. I couldn't find anything that satisfied me. Then I began writing a book. And that, dear reader, is how I come to be telling my story to you."

•••

"How's the book coming?" John asked.

"All right, I suppose. I feel strange writing a book about all this, though."

"What do you mean?"

"It cements the reality and reminds me of what's already happened."

"Well, it's not like it's going to change."

"John?"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"Why do you still stay with me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm hardly a good source of income to help you pay for the flat any more."

"I think we've moved beyond just flat mates, Sherlock."

"So what? You care about me?"

"Yes."

"But you could easily care about me from a distance. You don't have to stay with me. So why do you?"

"Because I'm not going to leave you."

•••

"John, are you trying to say... you love me?"

"No, no, no. Not at all."

"You don't care about me?"

"No, I do!" He sighed. "What I'm trying to say is... I care about you, I enjoy being with you, I worry about you, I'd trust you to the end of the earth, I'd do almost anything for you... but I'm not having sex with you if that's what you mean."

"Then I still don't get it. Why do you stay?"

"Isn't friendship enough? I know you're hurting right now, and you're going through what must be truly awful. I'm not going to abandon you in the midst of that; I'm going to stand by you. It's what friends do."

"Thank you, John, for being my friend."