Short fanficcy drabble

I feel, if I may be so bold, that I have evolved quite a few steps ahead of my fellow man. I feel this is the most logical statement, the most truthful sentence and no doubt the most reasonable of words complied one could possibly say when describing myself. I have yet to hear it from anyone besides myself, but I have little doubt they are thinking it. Yes. I do believe I can be regarded as a few steps ahead of the common lot.

Such a noble honour puts me in quite an interesting position, you see. To constantly look down at all your funny faces puts me in a rather lonely, but interesting little nook. Some people do not even realize the significance of this fact and choose to regard me as not 'a few steps ahead' but 'a few steps from going completely around the bend'. An unfair, not entirely untrue accusation, I admit. I'm in full knowledge that some of my actions can be considered 'outlandish' and 'eccentric', but who are you to judge? For I am way up there and you below, I a few steps ahead and you behind. Yes, it appears I am in quite a queer spot. A spot where I constantly am called upon to explain my motives to the people below so that they can pretend, if only for a moment, that they are just as far ahead other mankind as I.

It seems quite logical that I wish to stay alone with all my 'eccentric' behaviour, would it now? Why should I have to explain the good that can come out of plucking at my violin in the wee hours of the morning, or the explosive result to my experiments? I wish I could say it was logical enough for me to live by, but it seems my masterful mind has chosen another path entirely. A flatmate.

A decision made in such haste I had barely the time to think of the casualties. Suppose this chap reports to the authorities about my occasional bending of the law in the midst of a case, or the harmful substances I have lying about in the open in on the kitchen table and in various desk drawers?

Perhaps any other man would have in a heartbeat.

But it would seem that is not so for this man.

It would seem that this man, this conductor, has regarded my habits as something beyond mere quirks. I have a theory, forgive me if I come off as maudlin, that he has seen them as things that make me, me. Something I am foreign to encounter in such an extraordinary example of your typical English gentleman.

It seems I have been exposed to a new light. No longer that of an exotic creature flaunting about in a zoo's iron bared cage, as I am so often seen.

Not only does he regard me as more than just an attraction, but I am able to see glimpses of him in this light as well. I admit that not even I can deduce what possesses him when he insists on dragging his type writer to the ground to find the perfect 'writing position', or when I hear him laugh out loud at something said one in his dreadful sea novels. I am allowed to feel like less of oddity when with him. Less alone, on my high pedestal above the world and its inhabitants.

Maybe I am too flamboyant with my actions or to dramatic with my words. Maybe I do make outlandish assumptions out of practically nothing. Maybe I do deserve to spend the remainder of my days prideful and alone, tending to bees or growing prize watermelons. This I may deserve, but in my defense, allow me this:

Although I still walk ahead of you all, I can safely say that there is a hand in my own keeping me from running off completely.