A/N: Once again, music proves to be better for inspiring my writing than much of anything else. XD

Sherlock's POV because I like it. Also, there is no real plot or goal for this fic besides Johnlock lovin', so. I dunno, don't expect a lot? It is a drabbley collection, after all.

Anyway.

Now shh, just read.

Don't get offended

If I seem absent-minded

Just keep telling me facts

And keep making me smile

Don't get offended

If I seem absent-minded

(I get tongue-tied)

Baby, you've got to be more discerning

I've never known what's good for me

Baby, you've got to be more demanding

I will be yours…

"This Modern Love;" Bloc Party.

00. Normal and Abnormal

It has been repeatedly brought to my attention that John and I do not share a "normal" relationship for two flatmates who are also friends. I have never out much thought into it – I simply shrugged off the remarks or ignored them altogether, choosing not to state any sort of opinion, because, in truth, I have no opinion on the subject since it is, clearly, not my area – but as of late, I have no choice but to address it.

According to nearly every person who sees John and I interact in any way, shape, or form, they jump to the immediate conclusion that he and I are romantically together. An innkeeper implied that John and I sleep together. John complained that one of his girlfriends – I have forgotten which, but perhaps it was Janette? Or someone with a name similar to that? It isn't important to me what her name is – said that he is a "good boyfriend," but directly stated that she meant he is a good boyfriend to me.

And there have been countless other misunderstandings. Even Mrs. Hudson had the wrong idea when we first moved in together. But is it really so uncommon for two men to live and work together? It shouldn't be. University students split rent for dorms and flats, and they attend the same institution. Is it not the same for John and I? We work on criminal cases together and aren't wealthy enough on our own to pay for an entire flat, so we share. And, naturally, with all that time spent together, we have become friends.

That is normal, isn't it? It seems "normal" by my understanding of the term.

However, I suppose one could argue that John and I are oddly co-dependent on one another. But wouldn't one friend also willingly give their life for their other friend? That is what people do when they care about someone, isn't it? They risk what they must in order to protect. It is love, I suppose, but nothing like the sentiment every one implies.

I do care for John. If I have ever cared for any person, it would be John. Mrs. Hudson reminds me a bit of my grandmother and Mummy, and therefore, I care about her as well. And though it pains me to admit it, I would be troubled by Mycroft's death, because he was, so many years, a decent older brother.

So what is this miscommunication with every person we meet? Can't they see, can't they understand, that nothing is amiss between John and I? We are functional flatmates. We are good friends. I trust him, and he me. We care for the other's safety. We do well as colleagues. We are each other's closest friend.

And there is nothing wrong with any of that.