10:30 PM

"Today's the first day. Yeah! Here we are. Me, talking to a camera, and you, watching me talking about my life with Sherlock Holmes. It's funny, just to think that only a few months ago, Sherlock was 'dead' and almost everyone believed he was a fraud."

"How did you feel about it?"

"…"

"John?"

"It was the most awful thing that happened on my life. And I invaded Afghanistan."

"Does it still make you feel sad?"

"Every single time I think about it. But you are not here to film me saying sad things, are you? You wanna know about the adventures of the daily routine of the amazing Sherlock Holmes. Well, today was an exhausting day…"

As usual, I got up and went making some breakfast. As usual, I made some tea, toasts, eggs and sausages. As usual, I said good morning to Mrs. Hudson, invited her to have some tea with Sherlock and me, she declined and gave me the newspaper of the day. As usual, I went upstairs, poured tea in two mugs, put the food in two plates and stared at the beautiful meal I had in front of me. And there I noticed. No violin, no explosions, no 'boring', no 'fat Mycroft', no 'incompetent Scotland Yard', no 'when-is-Lestrade-phoning-with-a-new-case'… Nothing. Nothing at all! I got worried, of course. When you live with Sherlock Holmes you learn one thing: noise – very good, everything's fine; quietness – not good, prepare to die.

I called out his name and I met no response. I did it again. Zero. So, I had to go check on him in his bedroom. I knocked at the door.

"Sherlock? Are you ok? Do you need any help? Listen, I'm coming in. I just want to check on you. I am coming in peace…"

You don't know but, one day, Sherlock was locked in his room, sulking, because he had no case for two days. During that time, he didn't eat. I am doctor. No one should skip meals like that. I did it once. A long time ago. The next day, I became monstrous. I promised myself I wouldn't do it ever again. Continuing what I was saying, Sherlock was in his bedroom and I was outside with some food for him. I opened the door with a spare key and got in. It was dark, absolutely no light and I tried to switch on the light. As did that, I heard a huge 'hisssssss', like if someone was melting just because of the sudden light. Then, before I had the chance of giving the food, I plopped down on the floor, because that bastard threw, AT ME, a stapler. I never got in his room again. Too many bad memories.

I took a napkin of the tray with food and shook at the entrance of the room, so that he could see I was coming in, in other words, not to throw at me anything that would make me have a need for stitches. But then, I understood that I never saw Sherlock that way.

"What did you see, John? I am afraid to ask this, but is Sherlock back on… You know… We are wondering where he is right now, since he's not here with us."

"No, no, nothing like that. He didn't relapsed, if you're suspecting of such thing. As long it depends on me, he'll never go back those dark times. He won't."

"So, what happened then?"

"I was going to say, if you didn't stop to make a stupid assumption, simply because he isn't here! Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And besides what many people out there may think of him, he's not a fake. But that's the purpose of all of this, isn't it? To make people believe and know who Sherlock is. His actual himself.

"I suppose…"

"Then, let me finish the summary of the day."

As I was saying, I never saw Sherlock like that. There he was, curled up on his bed, moaning in pain and sweat all over his face.My heart sunk as I saw the invincible man, my best friend, so fragile, so not-Sherlock.

"Hei buddy. How are you feeling?"

"Miserable."

He didn't say that. In matter fact, he did not say a single word, but when he looked at me in the eyes, I felt no need to asking him again that question.

"Can you walk?"

A nod.

"Can you talk?"

He did not answer. It was beginning to be repetitive.

"Listen, you need to get up. I'll help you. After that, I'll head you to the living room where you'll sit down on the couch and have some food…"

He shook his head very quickly. For Christ's sake…

"You'll have some food" I repeated "and when you're done, I'll take you're temperature."

"Shouldn't you take his temperature first and only then he started to eat?"

"Are you the doctor?"

"No, but-"

"Then shut up! I know my priorities."

I made him sit on the couch, he did everything I told him to (he was really sick, to do it all, complaining just once) and he fell asleep very fast. I can tell you now, from all I observed today, Sherlock is really sick. His temperature stood around 103,46 degrees. I tried my best to make him feel better without going to a hospital. That stubborn hates it. Two years ago, he broke his wrist. I told him to go to a hospital, to make sure that it wouldn't get worse. He said no.

"And you did what he said?"

"Duh! Of course! He's Sherlock Holmes. Back where we were…"

I took the day off and gave the best of me to help him through his illness. I was hoping that his behaviour would be the most difficult thing to handle, but he was so weak that it gave no problem. The worse was making him eat… During lunch time, I made some turkey breast with rice. I gave the plate with food to him and waited for him to finish while I watched some new episode of 'Doctor Who'. I love that show! After forty minutes, he didn't even bite the turkey! I plead for Sherlock to eat. Not worth it. I went back to kitchen and I got some food for me instead. Back on the couch, I started to eat my turkey whilst watching a second episode of 'Doctor Who'.

And there the funny part begins.

I noticed that Sherlock was looking intensively at my food. I said nothing. Suddenly, he took a bit of my turkey's breast. As he did not do it again, I kick that moment to the back of my memory. Until this evening.

"Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson made some chicken soup. She's so nice. She found that you were sick and made you a soup."

"I know you told her about my… actual condition. Just wasted your time. I am not going to eat."

Ignoring him, I put the soup in a bowl which Harry gave me a couple of years ago and gave it to him.

"Did he eat it?"

"You're still asking?"

I got is entire-filled bowl back and then my brain clicked. To fool him, I went to the kitchen for the million time today, made some noise, as if I was putting soup in my own bowl and went back to living room. I started to eat his soup. He stared at it. I made a break and watch some telly. Sherlock got my spoon, plunged it on the chicken soup and ate it. He didn't stop and ate it all.

"How was it?"

"Why is your food always better, John?"

I looked at him. "That's your soup, Sherlock. You must be really sick. Look at the bowl. It's yours."

"Touché."

"You fooled Sherlock Holmes?"

"You bet it."

"How did he react?"

"That's a little secret of us."

"Is it?"

"He made me swear that I wouldn't tell anyone about that, and I already broke part of the promise, so…"

"It's nice to know that I can count on you to keep a secret John. I'll keep that in mind when one of girlfriends comes in here and I tell her why are you called 'Three Continents Watson'."

"How long have you been there? And you wouldn't!"

"For a while. Believe me John. I would."

"Don't walk way, Sherlock Holmes! I am gonna give you a 'speech' and then you'll be forced to go to the hospital!"

"As a doctor, John, you're not giving a good impression."

"Don't worry, I'll put everything back on the place when I'm done."

"Gentlemen, sorry to disturb. We are almost reaching the end of-"

"Then leave!"

"Sherlock!"

"What?!"

"They're our guests."

"Guests? They'll be following us for an unknown period of time in order to reach something I am not even aware about. They are not guests! They are…"

"Hei! What are you two whispering? We want to know!"

"You really don't want to!"

"Mr. Watson! Hold on a moment! We have to talk about tomorrow's episode. Since this one was the first one, is a little bit different from the others and-"

"Yeah, yeah, ok. We'll talk tomorrow!"

"No, wait!"

"Bye bye . See ya!"