*Bohemian Rhapsody – Queen*
Everything seems too unreal, what with Sherlock hanging over my shoulder every moment. I mean, it's not like I was actually injured or anything. Well, I guess that also depends on how you look at it…because had it been anyone else who got shot I would be worried sick over them. Though, I guess part of that could be because I am a doctor, and it's a common fact that doctors make the worse patients. I mean, really…it's not like it was serious or anything. Just a flesh wound! Really! But, I don't necessarily want to complain, because it's not like I'm not enjoying it. Because I definitely in, it's quite interesting to see Sherlock waiting on you hand on foot when usually he's too lazy and stubborn to even fetch his phone from his own jacket. I mean, really? But, I still feel quite confined. He's barely let me up from the chair. He's actually refused a few cases, believe it or not. And not just the typical ones either. He's actually turned down a serial killer! Well, I wouldn't go as far as to say that he turned it down because he ended up solving it anyways. But, that doesn't matter, does it? Lestrade came to the flat because Sherlock wasn't answering his texts or his calls, and Sherlock just shut the door in his face. I guess part of it is just typical Sherlock behavior, and as he claims every so often, he'd be lost without his blogger.
*Prologue – Phantom Of The Opera*
SOLD! The call rang out throughout the large room that was being used for this very peculiar auction. An auction that was very peculiar indeed, it wasn't often that you got to go on a date with your detective of choice from the New Scotland Yard. No, not normal at all. But there was no one in that very large room who would say that it wasn't enjoyable. And it wasn't just the detectives that were being auctioned off, no it was a very large portion of the department.
*Burn It to the Ground – Nickleback*
They were pissed, and they all bloody well knew it. Well, a majority of them did. You always had that one who never quite realized that enough was enough. And in this particular case, that idiot happened to be Anderson. He was currently passed out in some dark corner as it was mutually decided to do him a favor and knock him out before he did anything too serious. Well, mutually is a term that doesn't really apply in this situation, but it's close enough. Because Sherlock doesn't count; he was all for releasing Anderson onto the city and seeing what havoc he could deal in that short amount of time. It turned out that Sherlock was a happy drunk, a less-than-sane and easily amused drunk. And one would never know it until they heard him giggle, he kept the straightest face. It was perfect…someone could have probably carved a statue of him.
*Never Gonna Happen – Lily Allen*
What doesn't she understand? Me and John are together! Romantically! I don't care what opinion of yours that you wish to share, John is mine and I am his! Simple! And I really can't help it if I get jealous when I see obviously beautiful women drape themselves over MY John. I never took myself for the jealous type…well actually that's a lie. I just never imagined myself having anyone to be jealous over. And excuse me if John wasn't one fine specimen, because he definitely was. Especially for one who had a thing for military men, something that was only recently discovered. And damn did John look good when he pulled on uniform.