I’ve given him my word (as it is) that I will not speak aloud while he’s working in exchange for the use of his laptop. He uses his flatmate’s anyway so I don’t know why he’s making such a row.
This blog was my idea. I learned of the usefulness of Midgardian interaction via the internet a while ago. At the time, I had a StarkPhone in my possession so it was all a bit more portable. This will, I suppose, suffice for the moment.
I’m curious to see how this space in the ether can be used to my advantage and, as much as he raises his eyebrows at me, he knows very well that it has been invaluable to his various and sundry endeavors.
I suppose attempting some sort of anonymity is in order… but I don’t really care. The important people on this world already know where I am; the rest count for naught.
Ah, the flatmate is back. I better go.
I do not understand why I am even a part of this ridiculous blog of yours.
And I “make a row,” as you so cleverly put it, simply because it is my laptop.
I take this moment of my neighbor’s absence to say that 221A is, in fact, as horrible as it was advertised to be. I tried very hard to do things in a Midgardian fashion, but I had to resort to other methods to make the space at all hospitable. I’m saying this now so that if certain alleged superheroes from New York City pick up any odd energy signals it was all in an attempt to make my wretched rooms free of disgusting mold.
My brother is going to make jest of me as it is…
If he ever comes by, that is.
I attempted to talk to John about the detective today, but all the flatmate really told me was that he is:
- extremely intelligent
- nearly obsessive compulsive
- very good at chemistry
- somewhat ignorant about the universe (and by consequence where I come from)
- plays the violin well and has good taste in music
- is a bother to live with
I already knew all of these things. I hoping for some help in this area they call humanity, which is what I was apparently lacking the first and second time I visited Midgard. And isn’t that why we keep John around?
You don’t keep John anywhere.
Don't worry your pretty head. He doesn't even trust me. You're not about to lose your only lackey.
I rather like using this blog on a mobile. It gets me out from under the nose of the flatmate.
I only wish, by the Nine Realms, that this wasn’t another StarkPhone. I know they are tracking me on this infernal device.
Hello everyone. John here. I would just like to get a word in about how things really are before the dramatics reach Shakespearean levels.
Our new neighbor, the fastidious occupant of 221A, has taken it upon himself to become a voluntary acquaintance of Sherlock. This apparently includes (but is not limited to) borrowing his laptop and plopping himself in my chair on rainy afternoons. I’m still not entirely certain why Sherlock allows this—something to do with the current case involving Norse mythology?—but this is how it is. We aren’t really friends, but we’re definitely spending a lot more time with him than with anyone else.
Sherlock may complain about too much stupid in the room, but I think I have the right to perhaps want to avoid the nearly preposterous amount of high-strung opinions floating past my head when the two of them are in one space. In my opinion, the shorter this acquaintance, the better for all involved. Especially me.
Rather than Shakespearean, he actually strikes me as the product of rather sordid Greek tragedy, John.
Says the man with a near Oedipal complex.
Is that the best you can do? I was hoping for something more original and less sentimental.
But then again, it does appear that crimes of passion are your area of expertise.
You know nothing about my family. Leave them out of it.
I dislike sentiment as much as you. It’s a weakness.
Finally, something we agree on. Now if only you ever meant what you said.
Alright lads, let’s not do this here. On the internet.
Let’s not do it in the flat at the moment either.
Well said, John.
I have some experiments to do and you have a date with the round blonde.
At least one of us will have a productive evening.
And by experiments you mean composing tragic sonatas? I'm just glad you don't paint when he's away or there would be liters of it gushing down the stairs. At least sonatas have easy clean-up.
You are banned from the flat tonight.
You're assuming I even wanted to visit you.
Please, please don't kill each other while I'm gone. I don't like it when the flat is a crime scene.
Remind me again why this Lady of the land, who claims she is not a housekeeper, runs in and out of everyone’s business?
Does she ever knock?
Did you say you knew runes?
I've been told I can explain how to bypass biometric systems very well.
I'll be right there.