John stared at the blinking cursor on his laptop's bright screen. There was normally a world to write about for his blog. But lately Sherlock hadn't been as eventful as usual. He hadn't even looked for a case. Sherlock sat in the kitchen amid the clutter of science equipment and experiments, burying his head in the microscope. John could only wonder what he was doing.

"Sherlock?" John finally addressed him after a few hours of distracted attempts to write a new post for his blog. There was only a murmur in response.

"Why haven't you gotten on any cases recently?" John asked.

Sherlock stared, unmoving, into the microscope's lens. John got up from his chair, setting the laptop aside with frustration. He joined Sherlock in the kitchen.

"What have you been up to?" John questioned.

"Science." Sherlock answered simply. He seemed to be uninterested in anything other than his work, whatever his work was.

"Specifically?"

Sherlock glanced at John. "I'm having a particularly difficult time identifying this substance."

John chuckled quietly. "You're stuck?"

"I'm not stuck, John, it's a bump in the road." Sherlock said, annoyed.

"You're stuck, aren't you? Admit it."

"Admit what?"

"The egotistical Sherlock Holmes has been stumped!" John laughed at the reality of it.

"Believe what you like," Sherlock refocused on his work, but John could see the irritation it was causing him. Smiling, John returned to the living room and was finally able to tap out words.

He hadn't written for over a week and couldn't seem to come up with anything good. John had received numerous messages bugging him to update his blog. They wanted to know more about Sherlock's experiences. The problem was that for the past few weeks Sherlock had done absolutely nothing.

Most of the time, he would lay on the couch and stare at the ceiling, not uttering a word. He would sometimes get up and pace about the apartment, John having to reprimand the shots fired from Sherlock's gun. The remainder of the time, if he hadn't been doing the other things, he would sit at the kitchen table bustling about with experiments. This didn't give John much writing material.

But now he realized he could write about Sherlock's preference to solitary when he wasn't caught up in a case. To add to it, John could explain the imperfection in some of Sherlock's pastimes. It was relatable, and would remind his readers that Sherlock Holmes was human, just like all of them. No matter how miraculous Sherlock seemed, there was a logical process for everything he deduced. It was all just another form of science, really.

"What are you typing?" Sherlock's voice startled John.

"My blog, Sherlock." John replied.

"I thought it was about me."

"It is."

"I haven't worked any cases. There's nothing to write about."

John smiled at Sherlock's poor attempt at subtlety. "I'm writing about your normal habits. The readers like to relate themselves to you, that way they feel closer to you."

"Why would they want to feel close to me?" Sherlock asked, disgusted.

"Because you're a hero, in their eyes."

"I'm not a hero, John-"

"I know, I know."

"I don't have habits." Sherlock mumbled quietly.

John held in a sigh and widened his eyes. He pretended he hadn't heard Sherlock's last comment and let the conversation end there, while his fingers continued to patter rhythmically on the keyboard.