"John."

"Sherlock."

"If I were to research your past, what would I find?"

"Not a lot. You can question my mum, but I doubt she will give you any particularly interesting details. We have lived in separate worlds since I was…seven."

John flipped through the morning newspaper nonchalantly while Sherlock regarded him for a second.

"You are a blogger…"

"Yes, I am, but I did not keep a diary," John flashed a toothy smile for a second, then returned to his paper.

"Hmmm," Sherlock thought for a second, "I presume that you are not a reliable source for any information regarding your past."

"I preferred dinosaurs to flying saucers. I wanted to become a veterinarian until age 12, then I was attacked by a dog and changed my mind. I could not stand milk."

"All lies, of course," Sherlock smiled, squinting at John. The doctor stayed cryptically silent.

"I will not drop it," Sherlock continued, on the same note, grabbing his phone from the table and starting to text.

"Eventually you'll be distracted by a case."

"I am on a case," Sherlock answered without looking up, "Two, actually. This is… a bit of a hobby."

"Oh," John smiled, "You are doing hobbies now?"

"Doesn't the violin qualify as a hobby?" Sherlock raised his eyebrow.

"It usually helps you think."

"You are right about that," Sherlock pocketed his phone, got up, and in an instant stood at the door, "I'll be late."

"I'll wait anxiously by the door," John mumbled as Sherlock descended the stairs.