The Science Of Seduction


By: Akiko, Keeper of Sheep




The Personal Blog Of Dr. John H. Watson

September 7, 2011

Case: The Science Of Seduction |

John stared at the blinking cursor, contemplating very briefly whether or not he should change the title. He wasn't sure he should be posting this at all, but that thought was quickly discarded. He'd never been ashamed of his feelings for anyone in his life, and he didn't intend to start now.

Ah, feelings. They caused so much more trouble than one would think. Not six months ago, he'd been comfortably engaged in a normal, if somewhat bland relationship with a lovely woman. The Moriarty Incident had done plenty to change that, starting with the way John felt about Sherlock Holmes.

The man was nothing if not infuriating, John mused to himself - the cacophany of ear-bleeding violin playing still rang in his ears. Really, was it such an annoyance that he wanted Sherlock to pick up his own dry cleaning? It had been enough of a battle to get the man to understand that, no, he was not going to negotiate on the shopping, not unless Sherlock wanted to share other household duties as well.

Things had been somewhat less frustrating as of late. Lestrade had given them cold cases to work on (John pursed his lips at the thought of them), Mycroft had stopped sending them haring around Europe for no good reason, and things had calmed down at the surgery now that autumn had brought a stop to people trying to ride bikes down mountains and other such nonsense. Still, John found it impossible to relax entirely. It was like the eye of the hurricane, really, and he was waiting for the rest of the storm to hit.

The past six months had been a whirlwind of chaos. What did it say about his life when allowing himself to be nearly blown up was not the most traumatic thing that had happened to him? What did it say when the worst that had happened when he'd hit rock bottom was that he'd named Sherlock's skull?

Well, that he'd lost his mind entirely, obviously.

Sherlock had actually been something of a blessing, even as John admitted that he was pretty much the source of all the chaos. It wasn't so much the femur in the freezer or the disappearing milk (he'd been quite touched when he found out where it was going) or the potted datura. It was the constance. For all his intricate thought processes, Sherlock was wonderfully predictable once you worked out how he thought. Not what he thought, of course, because John was certain that was much more difficult and would probably scar him for life.

He'd stopped getting upset when Sherlock texted him at odd times, or set the kitchen on fire, or unthinkingly insulted elderly ladies in the park, because he understood. And even more comforting was the knowledge that Sherlock understood him, too. It had maybe taken a bit longer to come to this understanding than it might have, because Sherlock was an emotional cripple and John wasn't far behind him, but they'd gotten there. And if that tacit connection had only served to intensify John's own feelings towards his best friend, he could deal.

Smiling to himself, John began to type.

Among the many facts Sherlock Holmes finds irrelevant are the size of a blue whale's genitalia, the colour of water, and which fruit is the genetic opposite of the orange. What I was fascinated to discover, however, was that there was a certain correlation between so-called 'irrelevence' and whether or not he could correctly provide said facts. I stumbled upon this amusing revelation some two months ago, when I made the mistake of introducing him to Quite Interesting. It stands out in my mind, not due solely to that revelation, but also because it was the beginning of a realization of a different sort...


To Be Continued...


A/N - So, here it is, the beginning of something beautiful!

Well, no, it's the beginning of something confusing, messy, hilarious, and otherwise chaotic, but that's what love is, no?

Before reading this, take a peek at my one-shot, A Plan Of Radical Action, for more information about such subjects as milk, skulls, and hysteria. It's worth it. I hope. Well, it is if you want to understand some of the inside jokes that will crop up in later chapters.

Please review! It's my oxygen!

Edit: I forgot to put in the song for this chapter. I know how much everyone cares about my fanfiction playlists.

Song for this chapter: 'The Only Difference Between Martyrdom And Suicide Is Press Coverage' (Panic! At The Disco)

My bad.