[ 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.
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book2thehead
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.