docwithablog | storyline one.

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[ The data's too incomplete for any serious hypotheses at this time and consequently, he saves his preliminary analyses for later (1. parents estranged, keeping secrets that may require police intervention, lonely not by choice but by circumstance, 2. lonely by choice, someone willfully trying to sabotage his career and he's left to get away from the conflicts and 3. disappearance driven by outside forces, criminal reasons related to unknown circumstances). At John's comment, he shrugs. ]

Going by the evidence so far, speaking to his family is imperative. [ He fishes around for his phone. It's squeezed into his trouser pocket and he shifts around a bit, elbows and hips all over the place for a moment before he manages to get it out. ] Everything else is guesswork. [ He opens his notepad app and brings up his most recent, unfinished article, a small blog for his website on the historical development and scientific process regarding blood splatter analysis. Gaze slipping away from John and fixing on the screen, blocking out the other man quite efficiently from view, he adds, voice a murmur: ] Mustn't indulge.

[ With that, he starts tapping away at the screen. ]

[ John hasn't exactly been around Baker Street for long. How many days now, seven, ten? Barely two weeks and he already knows from hard-lived experience that this happens, sometimes. This thing, where Sherlock goes from relatively normal human interaction to suddenly being completely unavailable, mentally, if not physically. The man's gaze dropping, like now, to the phone he had to fight to fish out from his trouser pocket, hidden away underneath an unknown number of coat layers, Sherlock looking more octopus than man as he battles it loose from its hiding spot. And like that, you're just out of the picture again. John leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and just stares at him, halfway entertained, halfway irritated.

Okay, so it's a principle. At least when no fortune cookies are involved, mind you, that you can't guess, because guessing is imprecise, biased, presumably and he feels like he's back at Bart's again, handing in dissertations and papers with so many quotes in them that you'd need a couple of pages worth of references to cover it all. A sigh. Fine, they'll talk to the family, see what they have to say before they think any further ahead. John shakes his head, looks out the window again. Well, before Sherlock thinks any further ahead, all John's got to do is hang on for dear bloody life.

After all, he's seen Sherlock's blog entries. Little studies on their own, awfully long, no one gets through that drivel unless they need to secure a high mark on something and even then, Google's probably going to be a quicker, if not quite as accurate help. Do university students even care about accuracy anymore? Hell, they didn't in his day, they probably still don't.

Sherlock cares, however. Which is undoubtedly what makes him the world's only consulting detective, yes. ]

storyline one.

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