Good morning, John,

I'm going out. Something I need to take care of. Here are the questions we were supposed to answer today. I've put my responses on the back of paper. Write yours on a separate sheet and return it to me by the end of the day, and I'll read through them as promised.

-SH

John took the note off of the table and read through the rest of it, his brain still tired from staying up late the night before. He grabbed a pencil and a notepad from the kitchen and sat down, reading the list of questions.

What do you value most in a friendship?

What is your most treasured memory?

What is your most terrible memory?

If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?

What does friendship mean to you?

What roles do love and affection play in your life?

Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items.

How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people's?

How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?

John absentmindedly chewed on the end of the pencil before writing "honesty" under the first question. He sighed when he noticed that he didn't really treasure any memories.

He took half an hour to complete the list. He left it on the table before reading Sherlock's answers. John's list was this:

Honesty. Maybe someone that challenges me.

The day I left my family home, and the day we solved our first crime together.

Where do I begin? I'd say my entire childhood. There was one time where my father beat me with a broom until I was black and blue. I still have scars from him.

I would be more caring. More open with people, maybe. But I know I'm not dying unless by accident, so I can save all my life stories for later on.

Friendship means loving someone more than family because you chose them yourself, and never giving up on them for that reason.

A lot of them. They're quite important, I'd think.

Well, I think you're brilliant. And you're admirable for that, which makes two. You're funny, and you're kind (to me, anyway), and you're nice to have around.

We aren't close. We never have been. The one I'm closest to is Harry, but we haven't spoken in years. And I wish I'd had anyone else's childhood.

I like to not think about that too much. Of course I love her, because how can you not love your mother? But that doesn't mean I like her. I don't.

He flipped the piece of paper over, reading Sherlock's as best he could, though the handwriting was messy and unorganised.

If I'm ever to have a friend, I'd hope they wouldn't think I'm a freak like everyone else does. That'd certainly be more pleasant.

If that means the memory I access most often, then that would be the first case I solved. I believe I was eight. There was a woman who had been run over by a car in the middle of the night. Quite easy. She had been inebriated and passed out in the street across from the bar. Another drunk person decided to drive themselves home, and must not have seen her. I solved it in three minutes and four seconds. I used mostly common sense for that one, since I hadn't much knowledge of alcohol levels or how to calculate levels of impact or speed.

Don't tell anyone. Mycroft called me stupid for my entire childhood, which is likely why I'm so prone to showing off. He ingrained in me a constant need to prove myself to the world. For that, I'm slightly grateful. I may not be so successful if it weren't for that.

That definitely depends on the circumstances. Although I'm sure forgiving people and having them forgive me for being an arse would be helpful. Otherwise, I'd like things to stay the same so then I wouldn't constantly be reminded that I'm going to die and that's why everything has changed.

Perhaps friendship is some sort of mutual affection; one that's stronger than any sort of affection due to that person being hand-selected by yourself.

They don't.

You're strong, both mentally and physically. Level-headed, which is good. And you have an outstanding moral compass; one I can only ever dream of achieving. Not to mention you're good at cooking, and you're quite open-minded for doing this experiment in the first place.

My childhood was fine. My parents were fine. My brother was a cock. But that's how brothers are, apparently.

She's annoying, but I tolerate her as much as I can. She's one of the few people on the planet that I somewhat care for.

John smiled at the list, finding it interesting that they both had the same answer for the fifth question, almost verbatim, even, except Sherlock's version was a lot fancier.

At the bottom of the page, his eyes got caught on an added note. He looked more closely and found a sort of invitation waiting for him.

I'm at Regent's Park, by the way. The part we went the other day. I'll be there until precisely 11:47. Bring a coat, don't want to catch a cold.

-SH

John took the list of his own answers, checking the clock as he stuffed it in his coat. It was only 9:24. He had plenty of time.

"I'm going out, Mrs. Hudson!" he announced. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"Alright, dear!" she replied from her kitchen. "It's a lovely day. Have fun."

John smiled at her as he closed the door behind him, turning in the direction he needed to go and starting to walk.