As far as I can see, there are roughly three ways to end this story.
There’s no question in my mind that John is head over heels for Sherlock, and that Sherlock is head over heels for John. There is way too much evidence for both of those arguments. And it’s not only that they adore each other. They are also romantically and physically attracted to one another. To me that part is not even in question. It’s there, it’s a tension between them, it’s unspoken, but drives most of their decisions about each other. You may disagree, but I remain unconvinced by any dissenting arguments on this.
So how might it all end up?
Remember pre S3 when you’d read angst fics where Sherlock realizes he’s in love with John at John’s wedding and you’d be like why??? would you??? even?? write something that painful?? who would do th-
John killed for him, offered to die for him, given up his relationships with other people for him, forgiven him for shit like drugging and terrorising him as an experiment, and made sure he didn’t smoke or take drugs and stayed with him on danger nights and never ever for a second doubted him even when everyone else did and completely fell apart without him like to the point where he was just drinking on his couch all day and his friends were treating him like he’d lost his spouse and that shit when on for two fucking years and then when he came back he forgave him so fucking easily and he shaved for him and he barely demanded an apology and then even when Sherlock manipulated him and mocked him about the bomb he laughed he fucking LAUGHED and called him a cock and was like ah, bruh, come here and give us a kiss, and he literally FELT HIM UP on his stag night and cried when Sherlock said how much he loved him and jumped up in the middle of his fucking wedding shouting WHAT DO I DO and brought his gun on Christmas just because Sherlock asked him to and believed Sherlock would know what to do because Sherlock ALWAYS knows what to do in John’s eyes and looked like his entire goddamned world was crashing down around his ears when Sherlock shot Magnussen and was so traumatised and miserable
on the tarmac that he could barely speak. That’s how in love with Sherlock Holmes John Watson is.
The Head and the Heart; we got it wrong.
Look critically at the two men; the heart and the head.
The heart: Sherlock. Selfish and undying love, adoration, extreme sacrifice, protection at all costs, can only see the man he loves as the perfect man, looks at no other, lives his life for John. His avowed priority, the work, is thrown to the wind for the man he loves. Look at him, Sherlock is all heart.
The head: John. Cannot allow himself to voice his emotions. Blind to the love emanating from Sherlock as he has convinced himself that Sherlock can not love. Forces himself to comply with rules and expectations, forces himself to ‘move on’, stands by his decisions even in the face of incredible unfolding events. Takes a logical approach to his choices in life. Lives a different life to the life he really wants with Sherlock.
John is so in his own head, so overthinking things, that he cannot see what is right before his eyes. He is bogged down by conformity to the rules he has set himself, probably from standards set by parents. He chose the army as a career; rules, regulations, order, hierarchy. Now in marriage and his GP career John is killing himself slowly, living a life that is not for him. His head is ruling his fate. Whereas Sherlock has abandoned all logic to run at full pace into love. The head and the heart, but not as we initialy thought.
Unknown Variable
Over the time they had lived together, there were a few phenomena that Sherlock had observed about John Watson.
One: John almost always made both of them a second cup of tea when Sherlock asked for another, but he would only drink a couple of sips of his own and let it go cold.
Two: Whenever Sherlock fell asleep on the sofa after a particularly long session in his mind palace, he would awake with a blanket tucked carefully around him.
Three: John would spend 6.8 minutes in the shower on average, though there were certain days that took him a good four minutes longer.
Four: John would often buy them Chinese food on Friday nights when they didn’t have a case, and he would bring it into the salon and watch something mindless on the telly. Sherlock would inevitably end up watching with him, pointing out the inaccuracies of the movie and eating far more than he normally would, while John would have 2.7 beers. By the end of those evenings, John would often nod off, sometimes with his head on Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock always felt something strange twisting in the very center of him, watching John sleep. He would almost always fall asleep there as well, the warm body next to his own.
For some reason, all of these things— which would have seemed dull to the extreme about any other person— were actually interesting phenomena to Sherlock. Particularly number four.
Sherlock tried changing the elements of the fourth observation in order to isolate the variable that caused him to feel… whatever it was that he was feeling. He tried dictating what they watched, or getting the Chinese food himself, or buying Thai instead. The nights still ended the same way, and he felt the same blooming warmth in his chest as he drifted off to sleep.
One Thursday night, John was reading a book in his chair, with his cold second cup of tea next to him. Sherlock was perched in his own chair, his fingers steepled over his lips, watching John.
In order to change the fundamental element of phenomenon number four, Sherlock would have to remove them from the flat. He had attempted to change all of the other variables, and the result had always been the same.
“I propose we go out to eat tomorrow night,” Sherlock blurted out.
John glanced up, his eyebrows rising to his hairline. “What?”
“Instead of Chinese and whatever inane programme you were planning on subjecting me to tomorrow night, I would like for us to go out to dinner. Together.”
As Sherlock waited for an answer, his heart started pounding for some reason… which was utterly absurd.
”Um, okay. Sure.” John went back to his reading, his lips twitching upward into a small smile.
Satisfied, Sherlock went over to his violin and played one of John’s favorites.
My favorite thing in the whole world is the degree of confidence I feel in my belief that the restaurant scene in the unaired pilot was reconfigured, and Angelo recast, in order to make it less obvious that they were doing the date scene from goddamn Lady and the Tramp.
IT’S THE SAME
GODDAMN
CANDLE
