Saturday night, I was watching Sherlock. And while this
works as well for watching Sherlock as it does for the on average six books I’m reading at any given time, I had not quite expected the intensity of emotions that were about to come my way. I was casually lounging on my bed for the first episode, hugging my pillow for the second (ZE FEELINGS!) and relegated to gripping my poor teddy bear for the third, trying to find comfort as THINGS HAPPENED and I was left with so much to process. This Buzzfeed post is an accurate representation of my feelings on Saturday night. (Massive spoilers in the link, so be beware!)
Moral of the story? I am definitely not a high-functioning sociopath and should not be watching Sherlock by myself.