[His fingers brush the inside of his sleeve almost subconsciously, as if feeling the fresh bruises that are there. He can hear Mycroft in his head spouting some nonsense about being there for him, about lists, about having to stop before he gets in too deep. But why is he getting in so deep?

Is it just the boredom? Usually he can resist that. Are there other reasons? Ones more sentimental and more foolish?]

Don't be petulant, John.

[There's no need to bring his blog into this.]

I have a hobby, aren't you always nagging me to spend more time outside and meet more people?