[He falls quiet again as he listens, watching Sherlock carefully as the story is shared. It's a tragedy not unlike others he has witnessed before, and there are as many different ways to handle one's trauma as there are people in the world. Yet it's always quite a different sort of beast when it involves someone that Heizou knows personally, that he has a closer relationship to. It breaks his heart to think of how deep the mental and emotional wounds had to be for a protector to fully manifest in Sherlock's mind. To find reality so harsh and unkind that creating some fantasy was the best way to live on.
Heizou knows what it's like to lose trust in people. It's one of the major things that he and Sherlock have in common. Where Sherlock had his Jonathan, Heizou also tended to refer to his sense of intuition as his greatest partner, the one thing he could trust would never intentionally harm or betray him. He can only imagine what it must feel like to lose that part of himself, to lose something that felt like safety. It must have left Sherlock shaken and cold, suddenly facing the uncertain future on his own for the first time in over a decade.]
I'm so sorry, Sherlock. [He drops his gaze to his bowl of ramen, a sad, thoughtful frown upon his lips as he fidgets with his chopsticks for a moment.] I could never have guessed at just... how much you were keeping to yourself.
[It's a lot. But that's not to say that Heizou doesn't understand; he perhaps understands better than most might. He keeps his own past clutched close to his chest, after all. Not for any fear of judgment, but simply because he wouldn't consider much of his childhood happy... And surely nobody ever wants to hear about that. Not even the kindhearted Traveler back home. Right?]
...I hope you realize that you're not at fault for anything that happened. Jonathan existed to protect you until you were ready to face it all, and that even him leaving wasn't an act of abandonment. But... it must've been scary, to be so entirely on your own all of a sudden.
[Those words hardly feel comforting even to Heizou's ears, but he hopes Sherlock appreciates hearing them all the same...]
[ Taking a sip of water, Sherlock tried to compose himself, but having let the truth finally out, it is not so easily caged again. As soon as his glass touches the table again, the words quickly pour out and tumble over each other like rocks rather than liquid. A methodical attempt to tell his story veers into emotion. ]
I-I didn't want him to go. He said I did and left. I-I had to hide it all within. I was broken, alone, with no one on my side. Jon--Jonathan was gone. I grew up on a story full of lies. I couldn't trust Mycroft; I had to pull a gun on him to force him to tell the truth for once. I had a hand in my mother's death, and she tried to kill me. I knew madness was in my family, and I was touched by it in the least. I remained, to spite and despite the man who set me to breaking. All the same, I didn't know what to do with myself. If others knew my story, I would have no future at all. That much I was certain of. I wouldn't have a use to anyone, and no one would bother with me. Who would want to know or tolerate my presence if they did?
[ The answer then was no one. At least it had been for a long while. Heizou understand. Heizou knows. Their friendship was built with the realization the other knew the same troubles and trials.
With the tale of Jonathan finished, there was still one more tale to bring the mystery of the two Johns into the light. Sherlock once more tries to compose himself, giving himself a long moment to breathe, and this time he succeeds. His grey eyes still shine with unshed tears, yet the tremble has settled. Perhaps now thinking about Watson gives Sherlock a bit of strength and certainty. ]
John--Watson met me while I was testing how far bruising occurs after death. I thought I saw a ghost or had finally gone completely mad. Tears escaped me, but Watson had the grace not to mention them. He looked and sounded so much like Jonathan, simply older instead of my age. We had agreed to go halves for the flat before we had even exchanged names. Imagine my surprise when I learned he was called John in addition to his appearance and voice.
I had never met him before, but... the similarities could not be denied. Watson and I grew close during our case. And... thus--
[ He motions to the two doppleplushes. ]
--two Johns, both important to me in differing ways.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
book2thehead
this poor victorian child....
Date: 11 Oct 2025 00:09 (UTC)Heizou knows what it's like to lose trust in people. It's one of the major things that he and Sherlock have in common. Where Sherlock had his Jonathan, Heizou also tended to refer to his sense of intuition as his greatest partner, the one thing he could trust would never intentionally harm or betray him. He can only imagine what it must feel like to lose that part of himself, to lose something that felt like safety. It must have left Sherlock shaken and cold, suddenly facing the uncertain future on his own for the first time in over a decade.]
I'm so sorry, Sherlock. [He drops his gaze to his bowl of ramen, a sad, thoughtful frown upon his lips as he fidgets with his chopsticks for a moment.] I could never have guessed at just... how much you were keeping to yourself.
[It's a lot. But that's not to say that Heizou doesn't understand; he perhaps understands better than most might. He keeps his own past clutched close to his chest, after all. Not for any fear of judgment, but simply because he wouldn't consider much of his childhood happy... And surely nobody ever wants to hear about that. Not even the kindhearted Traveler back home. Right?]
...I hope you realize that you're not at fault for anything that happened. Jonathan existed to protect you until you were ready to face it all, and that even him leaving wasn't an act of abandonment. But... it must've been scary, to be so entirely on your own all of a sudden.
[Those words hardly feel comforting even to Heizou's ears, but he hopes Sherlock appreciates hearing them all the same...]
He just wants to be loved
Date: 14 Oct 2025 08:13 (UTC)I-I didn't want him to go. He said I did and left. I-I had to hide it all within. I was broken, alone, with no one on my side. Jon--Jonathan was gone. I grew up on a story full of lies. I couldn't trust Mycroft; I had to pull a gun on him to force him to tell the truth for once. I had a hand in my mother's death, and she tried to kill me. I knew madness was in my family, and I was touched by it in the least. I remained, to spite and despite the man who set me to breaking. All the same, I didn't know what to do with myself. If others knew my story, I would have no future at all. That much I was certain of. I wouldn't have a use to anyone, and no one would bother with me. Who would want to know or tolerate my presence if they did?
[ The answer then was no one. At least it had been for a long while. Heizou understand. Heizou knows. Their friendship was built with the realization the other knew the same troubles and trials.
With the tale of Jonathan finished, there was still one more tale to bring the mystery of the two Johns into the light. Sherlock once more tries to compose himself, giving himself a long moment to breathe, and this time he succeeds. His grey eyes still shine with unshed tears, yet the tremble has settled. Perhaps now thinking about Watson gives Sherlock a bit of strength and certainty. ]
John--Watson met me while I was testing how far bruising occurs after death. I thought I saw a ghost or had finally gone completely mad. Tears escaped me, but Watson had the grace not to mention them. He looked and sounded so much like Jonathan, simply older instead of my age. We had agreed to go halves for the flat before we had even exchanged names. Imagine my surprise when I learned he was called John in addition to his appearance and voice.
I had never met him before, but... the similarities could not be denied. Watson and I grew close during our case. And... thus--
[ He motions to the two doppleplushes. ]
--two Johns, both important to me in differing ways.