"Oh yes," Sherlock's saying, when she comes back into the sitting room, "very soon, you little snot elemental, you'll know that when I'm hiding behind my hand I haven't actually gone anywhere."
The thing is, she's not wrong about his heart--something in him shut down after Victor, after his sole early start at living a life where his emotions and his genius coexisted was shattered by his sister's betrayal and his brother's misguided attempts to shelter him. He's been holding himself apart from humanity for decades, all the spikes and armor and nasty remarks hiding a little boy's fear that he can trust no one. John's been his first steady connection, his lifeline back to the human part of himself. With someone in his life he trusts, it's easier to let himself be something other than the cold and brilliant Sherlock he's presented to the world for so long.
It's easier to play with this child, to take in not only the microcosm of early human development she represents but the budding hints of her personality and the pleasure of how strongly she resembles two people he cares for.
And it's easier to let himself want someone closer to him than even a dear friend, closer than blood relatives.
"She's--oof--" Sherlock's face does something that would probably be a meme within seconds if Mycroft's cameras were trained on him, as Rosie grabs his nose. "--decided that spitting up on me is less fun than trying to pull my face off."
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Date: 2017-02-19 04:46 pm (UTC)The thing is, she's not wrong about his heart--something in him shut down after Victor, after his sole early start at living a life where his emotions and his genius coexisted was shattered by his sister's betrayal and his brother's misguided attempts to shelter him. He's been holding himself apart from humanity for decades, all the spikes and armor and nasty remarks hiding a little boy's fear that he can trust no one. John's been his first steady connection, his lifeline back to the human part of himself. With someone in his life he trusts, it's easier to let himself be something other than the cold and brilliant Sherlock he's presented to the world for so long.
It's easier to play with this child, to take in not only the microcosm of early human development she represents but the budding hints of her personality and the pleasure of how strongly she resembles two people he cares for.
And it's easier to let himself want someone closer to him than even a dear friend, closer than blood relatives.
"She's--oof--" Sherlock's face does something that would probably be a meme within seconds if Mycroft's cameras were trained on him, as Rosie grabs his nose. "--decided that spitting up on me is less fun than trying to pull my face off."