The name of Sherlock’s bondmate appeared early--wrapped around his left pinky when he was just five years old. Sherlock, ever impatient, demanded to Mummy that “John needs to come now” so that they could play pirates, and eat chocolate hobnobs, and share deductions. When Mummy explained to Sherlock that it might be a while until his John came, Sherlock threw a fit, buried his face into Redbeard’s fur and cried (Not that he would ever admit to this when Mummy brought it up over Christmas dinner years later).
This all resulted in Sherlock turning his pocket notebook into a pocket diary so that John could catch up on everything when he finally bothered to show up. Throughout primary school, Sherlock filled the book with little hearts and curly script that read, “Mr. John & Sherlock Holmes.” Every entry was addressed, “To John.”
In Sherlock’s twenties, the notebook entries “To John” became angry, scrawled lists of his drugs of choice. At that time, Mycroft regretted the book he gave to his little brother all those years ago.
In Sherlock’s thirties, the notebook entries stopped being titled “To John.” The only proof of his childish emotions were the doodles that still littered the early, tattered pages. Entries became practical, observant, and aloof—much like Sherlock himself. Then one day, John opened the book.