A Study in Pink
The other night my entire life changed, I think for the better, and I want to tell you about it. So this is what happened on the night I moved in with Sherlock Holmes.
When I first met Sherlock, he told me my life story. He could tell so much about me from my limp, my tan and my mobile phone. And that’s the thing with him. It’s no use trying to hide who you are (or what you are, which scares me more) because Sherlock sees right through everyone and everything in seconds. It’s remarkable but terrifying. What’s incredible, though, is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things.
This morning, for example, he asked me who the Prime Minister was. Last week he seemed to genuinely not know the Earth goes round the Sun. Seriously. He didn’t know. He didn’t think the Sun went round the Earth or anything. He just didn’t care. I still can’t quite believe it, and he’s not taken kindly to me spontaneously laughing about it. In so many ways, he’s the cleverest, most incredible person I’ve ever met but there are these blank spots that partly worry me and partly brighten my day (knowing something that Sherlock doesn’t brings a sort of thrill). At least I’ve got used to him now. Well, I say that, I suspect I’ll never really get used to him. He is like no one else I’ve ever met. It’s just, on that first night, I literally had no idea of what was to come. I mean, how could I? I’ve come to learn that when you’re with Sherlock Holmes, everything is an adventure.