A/N: Will continue if I get atleast one review/favorite or anything that tells me there's atleast a single person who wants this fic to be completed. Thanks to SilentRaven97 for the tremendous support.

The Blog Of John Watson

Attention-Seekers

Sometimes, when I'm not busy working and fortunately (or maybe unfortunately) Sherlock has no case and we are not running after a criminal in the alleys of London or he's not about to set fire to the kitchen, I sit and wonder, what exactly we all look for in a life partner. Looks? Well, maybe. Kindness? Definitely. I was always more of a action based guy, so I am looking for someone who needs an adrenaline fix. But, at the end of the day, I think, we all want partners who show attention to us. We want someone who wants to know what has happened in our life. We all need a good listener, a good observer. We need someone who understands if we are tired or not based upon the sound of our footsteps. It feels nice, to be the receiver of such attention. That we mean the world to at least one person. The one person worth living for (no, I'm not suicidal). Deep down, we are all attention seekers, waiting for people who want to listen to your story. Ok, wait, I think Sherlock has set the kitchen on fire, the sprinklers are on.

Well, we stopped the flame before it could spread. Since you haven't heard me and ran off Sherlock, I'll tell you here: The kitchen is off limits for fire-related experiments!

Comments

Mrs Turner: This is Mrs. Hudson, boys. Sherlock, what have you done to the kitchen now? This is going in your rent. By the way, nice entry John, never knew you were philosophical.

Eva: John, it's nice to see you at peace. I think you are well on the road to healing.

Sherlock Holmes: Mrs. Hudson, a man's life was hanging in the balance. Surely, you wouldn't be conceited to think your kitchen was worth more than his life.

John Watson: Sherlock, there's a place for this sort of thing. A laboratory.

Sherlock Holmes: Time was of essence, John. Wouldn't expect you to understand, seeing that you were free enough to contemplate and be poetic. Poetic!

theimprobableone: I read this blog for Sherlock. Could you post more about him and maybe none of your contemplation?

John Watson: This blog is supposed to be about me!

Harry Watson: Brother, what has got you thinking down this road? Have you met someone new? It sounds serious

John Watson: No, Harry, I haven't met anyone new.

Five days earlier

I had an extremely tiring day. I was actually thankful that Sherlock didn't invite me to the case he was working on (the client wanted complete anonymity – he would only trust Sherlock). Two minor surgeries, four clinic patients and a nasty break-up, it looked like the universe was against me today. Well, truth to be told, I wasn't really that into her, anyway. The only silver lining was that Sherlock wasn't home so there was no need to worry about the house. I opened the door to 221 B, absent-mindedly checking the knocker to see if Mycroft was here (Sherlock's ways were rubbing off on me). It's been a long time since Mycroft visited the flat, but again, things have been pretty rough between him and me after the…the Fall.

A shower and some tea later, I actually feel very bored. Not Sherlock-level shooting the walls bored, just normal bored. Like the kind of emptiness you have when there's nothing on the telly, no book to read or anything to do. I opened my blog, but I couldn't think of anything to write. Well, there was a lot going on in my life, but suddenly it felt too personal to share. Like those memories belong to only me and him…no, no Watson, don't go down that direction!

I was about to sleep when I received a text. Funnily enough, my text made the same noise Sherlock's did when he met Irene. Wait, there was the noise again. But, it sounds more male. Not the same noise, then. I opened my phone. I received two texts from Sherlock. Huh. I wonder when Irene got hold of my phone. I hope it's not a plea, no, wait, order for help. I really had no strength to run after criminals today.

Hello - SH

Tiring day at work, then? – SH

This was strange. Sherlock never texted me for inane things like Hello. Did someone hack into his phone?

Sherlock, is that really you? – JW

Yes, John. But even a criminal would say that. Has all my instruction been for naught? – SH

All right. What was the first thing that you ever said to me? – JW

Thank you – SH

Now, that I think of it, you saying thank you is certainly ironic – JW

By the way, why are you texting? You want my help? – JW

I do thank people, John. Only when they deserve my gratitude. – SH

My stomach does tiny flip-flops whenever someone texts my name. Mainly Sherlock. Ok, forget I said that.

I'm waiting in a bank vault for the criminal. It's quite boring – SH

Oh, okay then. I'll use this opportunity to get to know you. It's only fair, considering how much you know about me – JW

I merely observed. You are free to observe anytime you like – SH

I'm not gifted like you, Sherlock – JW

Typing his name gives me tiny butterflies too.

Favourite color? – JW

Really, John? I expected something more along the lines of my…never mind. Favourite color…I already told you I have no favorites! It's illogical, preferring something over the other for no reason. However, purple appeases my eyes, to answer your question – SH

Ok, really didn't expect you'd type this much. You do have a favorite! And, purple is my favourite too! – JW

I masked my indifference about him not liking anything. It felt like he was indirectly telling me "You are just a guy in seven billion. Why would I choose you without reason. It's illogical. Stop dreaming man."

I know, John. – SH

One of the major reasons of why I liked Sherlock was this. He gives so much attention to everything I do, everything I wear, everywhere I go. It's hard not to get addicted to such attention. It's one of the reasons my relationships don't go well. My girlfriends know nothing, don't want to know, either. It's like they don't care about me at all. Once you get used to Sherlock's attention, you get irritated if your girlfriends forget the slightest things about you. Frankly, all of the girls I met till now just feel like silicone dolls with no brains at all. And look at Sherlock.

When's your birthday? – JW

We (only me and Molly) always wanted to have a surprise party on his birthday (Surprise and Sherlock? I don't know).

I've deleted it – SH

At moments like these, I truly wonder if Sherlock was human.

A/N: There is an allusion to a case in the books. There's also a RDJ Sherlock reference in there. The one who spots either of them will have the next chapter dedicated to them. Reviews are love!