sᴇᴠᴇɴ
The Paradisan Problem
Six months. It's been six months to the day since I got here. Eight for Sherlock. Honestly I don't know how he's able to do it, stay sane. Not sure how I'm managing it either but I'm managing. I actually meant to start writing this earlier, figured it would give me something to do other than rearrange the medicine draws in the clinic. Then things happened, I might get into them later, and it just got pushed aside. Well, better late than never right?
I miss London. It's funny there was a time where I honestly didn't think I'd ever say that, but now? Well I really do miss it. I miss the cases. The running around streets after a suspect. Hell I'm even starting to miss Anderson's complaining when we turn up to a crime scene. There isn't that much crime here, I don't really understand it. The people here somehow manage to go through life without so much as a proper murder. There are accidents, yeah, thefts and other petty crimes but that is about it.
What I would give for a good murder mystery.
...On second thought ignore that.
I wouldn't mind a straight up mystery though, that would be nice. For the both of us, Sherlock included. It is only a matter of time before the kitchen is set on fire again. Speaking of which I should probably start breakfast before he tries to take it over.
[ A little after he makes that post he opens the journal, not saying anything straight away though. Multitasking can be difficult. ]
Does anyone know of any puzzles? Riddles? Mysteries? Difficult ones preferably.

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Yes, really.
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Hello Crowley.
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