He's taken exactly the same math and come up with exactly the wrong answer. It's like the work is all there, it's all done for him, and yet he's added two and two and come up with five once again, stubbornly, and Sherlock just stares at him in equal disbelief. He's just pointed out what John knows to be true, that normal bores him so much that he can't remember the names and details of his girlfriends, that danger is what he's after and why he's here, with Sherlock, running out of the flat in the middle of the night to chase down killers and risk his life.
And still, he's saying that normal is what he wants. Most days he would let that go, but then, most days he wouldn't have met this head on, wouldn't have pushed it in the first place. Today, he had an ulterior motive, one he wanted to test, and one he was confident was accurate. John had been aroused while they were fighting in that alley way, and he had been in the kitchen the day prior when it was Sherlock's hands holding the rope in the kitchen. There's unexamined things there for Sherlock, emotions and feelings, interest and need of his own that's easier to ignore and just focus on the mystery that is unraveling John Watson.
"How's that working out for you, then?" he asks, voice cold. "That normal life you're after."
Sherlock selfishly thinks to himself that it's him that John turns to when this gets out of hand. It's Sherlock that's there for John when it threatens to drive him insane, even if that's the furthest thing from true if John means anything more than physically present and not even always that. Sherlock just selfishly wants John without sharing, and feels he deserves him, because he can see through this nonsense about wanting to be normal to know what it is he needs.
no subject
He's taken exactly the same math and come up with exactly the wrong answer. It's like the work is all there, it's all done for him, and yet he's added two and two and come up with five once again, stubbornly, and Sherlock just stares at him in equal disbelief. He's just pointed out what John knows to be true, that normal bores him so much that he can't remember the names and details of his girlfriends, that danger is what he's after and why he's here, with Sherlock, running out of the flat in the middle of the night to chase down killers and risk his life.
And still, he's saying that normal is what he wants. Most days he would let that go, but then, most days he wouldn't have met this head on, wouldn't have pushed it in the first place. Today, he had an ulterior motive, one he wanted to test, and one he was confident was accurate. John had been aroused while they were fighting in that alley way, and he had been in the kitchen the day prior when it was Sherlock's hands holding the rope in the kitchen. There's unexamined things there for Sherlock, emotions and feelings, interest and need of his own that's easier to ignore and just focus on the mystery that is unraveling John Watson.
"How's that working out for you, then?" he asks, voice cold. "That normal life you're after."
Sherlock selfishly thinks to himself that it's him that John turns to when this gets out of hand. It's Sherlock that's there for John when it threatens to drive him insane, even if that's the furthest thing from true if John means anything more than physically present and not even always that. Sherlock just selfishly wants John without sharing, and feels he deserves him, because he can see through this nonsense about wanting to be normal to know what it is he needs.