A/N HELLO THIS MY FIST STORY, REVIEWS, AND CRITICISM ARE WELCOME

SPECIAL THANKS TO RAVEN of RAO FOR HELPING ME EDITING THIS (MAY YOU FLY HIGHER THEN KRIPTON *hit chest with left arm*)

-DISCLAIMER :* deadpan* I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK HOLMES

JOHN POV:

It has been a week now that a new case had arisen, and, since then, I could feel the tension rising in my stubborn flatmate who seems adamant that I should stay in the dark. That damn idiot kept on insisting that the case was too small for his (therefore my) attention.

He doesn't know that I know about the "little adventures'' he goes on while I'm at work. While I'm painstakingly earning money just because mister 'If I were to make money on the never-ending stupidity of people I'll be richer than the queen, and oh I'm only saying that because the other reason would make me appear too human..." (I KNOW he doesn't take it out of guilt -having fun on horrible tragedies- and compassion - a lot of people that comes are poor and grieving-) here, is a HUGE idiot. OR maybe he knows that I know and think that surely if I know certainly think that I don't know he knows about me knowing... aaaaaaaarg the pains of living with a high-functioning sociopath, nothing is ever simple. Ms Huston has no idea of my pain if she knew what she dodged, she would bake me one of her lemon cakes every single day.

Ok, so back to my previous line of thought ... while I know.. while I realize he does not tell me about each and every case, I have ample proof that this one is more than a 'small' one in his mind. What is bothering is the fact that it's affecting him so greatly that I have anything to go on. That man has such a steel glove on his emotion that the very fact he is uneasy is highly worrying.

Perhaps it's a requirement for high functioning sociopaths, maybe there's a secret rule somewhere "Thou shalt not let people see thy emotion to thy caring friend. They shall render people crazy with thy flair and thy stubbornness" *inner gasp* I BET THEY have MEETINGS -a small vision of Eurus, Sherlock, and Moriarty sitting a circle...- Okayyy, just WHAT was in that tea!

- line caus' imma lazy

I finally told him to tell me (three hours and that tea is still working) what was going on... He, of course, laughed to such claims and shrugged it off, telling me that before deducting, we should see and not assume '' if not we would undeniably fall into fiction and not facts, though I understand the fancy of imagining things for the simple-minded might cover-up the endless void where reason should normally reside, I do not condone it for real life, this kind of practice leads people into believing in monsters instead of dogs".

Coward! of course, he would bring that up! The Hell-hound case just to shut me up (we had an agreement that neither of us shall speak of it since ... well, this is just a thought and he assured me he wasn't a psychic. Thanks to the universe for that, I don't think the world would have survived), so I'll dare think the real reason: WE WERE BOTH IDIOTS IN THAT STORY, he can deny all he wants, but he lost his cool and I still can't look at a dog without cringing! WELL, if he wants facts I SHALL serve THEM ON A SILVER PLATER!

"Sherlock, do you reaaaally want to step into that field?" I asked in my sweetest voice. I saw him quickly shut up, and before he could even think about responding, I began again taking the same tones he uses when he patronizes me about deduction.
'' You see Sherlock when someone lives with someones else they care about -and yes, no matter what you say about caring -it's a concept that does not require pre-formed intent-, they start to notice things. While you always barge on human behavior, you always seem to forget that you, my friend, though being an erratic self-centered sociopath with an IQ rivalling Albert Einsting, are programmed like a clockwork. You, like everybody else, have habits. And if said habits are disturbed, then it must mean something personal and/or psychological is affecting your general engine...".

I could have named off his habits (like the shooting the wall and the stabbing envelopes onto the ledge) but, him, being the idiot he is, would have put all possible efforts into stopping the external sign of his human side and emotions and I fear that, as though he likes to put up this machine appearance, it would cost him greatly.

I saw him gawking several times during my rant but unfortunately for him, I was as unnerved than concerned and I did not give him a chance to interrupt me. He kept staring at me and through his eyes, I could see many different responses coming my way. Then suddenly, he completely deflated, not unlike Ms Huston lemon's cake. Doing an aggravated sigh he flopped, face first, on to the couch.

I kept staring, waiting for a reaction, a word, a duck to fly in and pinch his face until finally, I heard only a whisper:
"My sister is the one committing the crimes."