A/n: I can't tell you how happy I am for all the reviews, follows and faves I've received. You all are great!

LifeonMarsgirl: Yeah, he pretty much complained that it was for a child, but ended up actually doing the journal is one where your friend has to do something destructive without the journal owner looking; I'm still trying to think of a funny way to do it. Thanks so much!

Icecat: thank you!

DayFlow: Thanks!

NarutoRox: Thank you, I'm glad! Sherlock has no shame, and yeah he does use those phrases a lot, huh? Thank you for your continuing reviews!

Here is the journal entry where he writes "bored" in different languages (I hope you don't mind) : / art /Sherlock-WTJ-Page-456249235 (without spaces)

I also apologize for the shortness of this chapter. Better one on Wed. I promise!

"John," Sherlock asked, scribbling something in his journal from the couch, "what time is it?"

His flatmate just tsked and glanced at the bottom right of the computer screen. This had started earlier in the day, when he asked while eating breakfast. John just assumed Sherlock didn't have his phone on him (since he was in his bed sheet). He'd ask at lunch, then at tea. Now it was half past 6 in the evening and it really was getting annoying.

"Half seven." John replied with a clipped tone, "Sherlock, what's wrong with the clock on your smart phone?"

"The phone is on my desk." Sherlock said, sounding bored.

"And you couldn't be bothered to walk 5 steps and get it?" John groused in exasperation. He leaned across the desk and retrieved his flat-mate's phone, and threw it to him, which Sherlock surprisingly caught without looking up.

A few minutes later...

"What time is it, John?"

John slammed down the mug of tea he was drinking so hard that it nearly exploded on impact.

"Why can't you use your phone?!" John snapped, his patience long gone. "Is it too much effort to turn it on?"

Sherlock just shrugged, which infuriated his flatmate even more.

Grabbing his jacket, John began to storm out of the flat without saying another word to Sherlock. That would only produce more irritation on his behalf.

"John?" Sherlock called.

He turned, expecting (or rather) hoping for some form of explanation, or even better, (though less likely to happen) an apology of sorts.

"Get me some Gobstoppers if you're going to the store, would you?"

John slammed the door in response.