John always said Sherlock was terrible with timing. Sherlock could agree with that. But he never really attempted to fix it.

The little flaw never really got in the way of things. Not in the way of him, at least. People, yes. But with Sherlock, no.

Oh, but emotions. That was something Sherlock had to fix.

We all heard it before. Sherlock was convinced caring was a disadvantage. That sentiment was only meant for the losing side.

Sherlock Holmes does not love. He doesn't experience romance. To him, attraction is simply a concept people think potential partners must have, constructed by childhood figures and the unconscious primal instinct to have healthy offspring (or at least a good shag).

It wasn't like Sherlock couldn't see beauty. He simply didn't find himself drawn to it.

But then there's John Watson. The beauty who draws everyone who looks in his direction. The light moths flock over to. The man who drew Sherlock Holmes, the man without a heart, in without even trying.

Sherlock had concluded a long time ago that people always had used kindness to repay or gain.

Take every single person he has helped solve a case, he had found them using kindness to repay him for his work. Take Molly Hooper, in which he can only assume, using kindness as a way to get to his nonexistent heart. Take his clients, who think using kindness will make Sherlock suddenly change his mind about not taking their case.

But what did John have to gain for being kind to Sherlock? From the very first moment they met, John offered him Sherlock's phone. As far as Sherlock was aware, that was some form of kindness.

At first, he thought John was trying to impress him. That was quickly debunked as John said himself in his blog, "I think he might be mad. He was certainly arrogant and really quite rude and he looks about 12 and he's clearly a bit public school and, yes, I definitely think he might be mad but he was also strangely likeable."

Likeable? John didn't have enough to label Sherlock as likeable in the 10 seconds of knowing him before giving Sherlock his phone. So that was ruled out. So he thought he heard of him. However, it was obvious then by his body language that he didn't know who Sherlock is.

So what inspired him to hand Sherlock his phone?

Genuine kindness is rare nowadays, and proving Sherlock wrong was even rarer. Just in 10 seconds of knowing him, John was able to achieve both. He proved that some people still have a bit of human decency left.

That was how John was able to hook and reel Sherlock in. By simply handing him a phone.

Next was his loyalty. Another thing that was rare in this world. Only a day after knowing him, John had refused to spy on Sherlock and killed for him.

Was being simply likeable the motivator for this loyalty? Sherlock digresses. It was then John had Sherlock completely drawn in, like a moth flying closer to the light.

John made it clear the two were just friends. And Sherlock agreed. He had no other friendships to make a clear definition of what friends were. He had simply thought the compelling urge to kiss John, the irrational jealousy when he saw John with his dates, the elevated heart rate was what friends felt for each other.

Of course, that was before he met Irene Adler.

The Woman made Sherlock realize so many things, even if she didn't intend it, which Sherlock could highly doubt.

The things that Irene had said were exactly like the thoughts Sherlock had towards John. Of course, Sherlock thought it was Irene's way of being bold. However, when he found out about Irene's attraction to him, that's when it hit him.

Irene was like the embodiment of Sherlock's thoughts about John. Every flirtatious word she said was what Sherlock wished he could do with John. But apparently, friends don't think about each other that way. However, friends who are in love with their friends do.

He was attracted to John. And Sherlock Holmes was terrified.

Caring was a disadvantage. A thing that only belonged to the losing side. He prided himself to be emotionally detached from anyone, let alone loving another. But no. The walls that stood proudly around his heart for years were torn down by John bloody Watson. And he didn't need to try anything.

This couldn't be correct. Sentiment was just a chemical defect the brain makes. It will pass with time. At least, that's what Sherlock tried to convince himself.

He couldn't think of anything else. For once, he denied the several possibilities that he and John could've had. He couldn't accept that a single man was able to restart his little heart and make it start feeling again. He couldn't accept the possibility of losing John or being so emotionally vulnerable. He couldn't accept that he was able to feel.

Emotions were a foreign thing to Sherlock. Something he avoided like the plague. And now, he has them. And what on Earth is he going to do with them?

Ignore them. That's what he did. That's what he always did with his emotions. Ignore them. Try his best efforts to delete them, knowing his efforts will be fruitless.

Try to forget the stinging pain that John likes girls. Try to forget the elevated heart rate whenever he was around John. Try to forget the lightheadedness every time John was in the room. Try to forget that Sherlock was falling for John and that if he held his tongue this one time, everything will run smoothly.

Oh, falling. And holding his tongue. The two things Sherlock held regrets for.

He found it pointless, really, falling. There is no point in flying if you're going to be met with death soon after. But there he is. On the roof of St. Barts. About to jump. About to fall. He looked down at the ground. Was he really that far from it?

"So how are you going to do it?" a voice said next to him. Sherlock whipped his head around. There, stood John. Not even a meter apart. But then again, it really wasn't John. Just a part of his imagination his mind made up to help organize his thoughts.

"Sorry?"

"I said," John said slowly. "How are you going to do it? Without dying?"

"Who said I was going to survive?"

"Well, Molly did tell you how you're going to fall, correct? You're Sherlock Holmes. You know how to survive."

"That's a lot of faith you're putting into me."

"I'm your subconscious." John walked closer to Sherlock. "So tell me. One last time. How are you going to survive?"

Sherlock took a deep breath. "The hospital is four stories. You'd be stupid to go head-first if you don't want to die. However, falling in an x-formation will slow my decent slightly. Which may give me more time. Sky-divers are advised to land on their legs if their parachute and backup chute were to fail on them in the air. The legs are supposed to take in the impact."

"But aren't the snipers going to know that? I'm not sure if Moriarty hires idiots."

"Then they aren't going to see him land on his legs." another voice cut in. Lestrade went on the other side of Sherlock, looking over the edge. "Aren't they, Sherlock?"

"You're smarter than you are in real life, Graham," said Sherlock. "There's a building that blocks everyone's sight, even for a split second. By then, I will begin to land on my legs. When they make contact, they'll be broken, but I'll still be alive."

"But will happen next?" John asked. "Surely the real me will want to check your pulse."

"Well, I think we just leave it be for now."  Sherlock, John, and Lestrade all turned around to be met with Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock nods his head.

"Correct, Mrs. Hudson. Soon after that, I'll go into shock. It will decrease my heart rate." he pulls out a stress ball. "This only assures that John could not feel it at all."

"Well, so glad we were able to figure this out," John said quickly. "Now just time to spring it to action..." everyone looked over the edge.

"Soon will be preferable. The snipers might be getting a bit antsy-" Sherlock was cut off by a harsh force on his back.

"Then get on with it!" exclaimed Mrs. Hudson. John and Lestrade turned their heads towards the old woman behind them, their eyes widened in shock. "What?" Mrs. Hudson shrugged her shoulders. "Sometimes people just need a little push."

You probably know the rest by then. That Sherlock Holmes faked his death, leaving his best friend to think he had left this earth. That Sherlock Holmes left John Watson to grieve for two long years. That while Sherlock Holmes was dismantling the web of the Spider, John Watson tried to ease back into domestic life once again.

Two years, Sherlock was been separated from John. Two years too long. Shortly after he recovered from the fall, quick to work was what he did. He needed to be back home as soon as possible. He needed to get back to John as soon as possible.

Quickly as he could, he would dismantle The Spider's web. Fight through the pains of the torture sessions he would receive when he was caught before breaking free and take apart another string from the network.

Sherlock found a way to focus all of his emotions towards moving forwards, rather than repressing them. He channeled his passion for John and longing for home to motivate him while going through the closest thing to Hell Earth can create, powered by his frustration and sorrow that's been bottled up for years.

No longer were emotions kept repressed somewhere deep in Sherlock's mind palace. He'll use them as a weapon against his enemies, all the more if that meant coming home to John.

John.

With this sudden change in how his emotions were being dealt with, Sherlock slowly warmed to the idea that he was undeniably in love with a man named John Watson.

He spent a lot of time contemplating what would he do when he got back home during the break periods of torture. Sherlock hadn't denied the possibility that John could have changed over two years. Change was inevitable. Yet that didn't stop him from fantasizing about what would it be like to come back home and seeing John's reaction. Then it changed into what would it be like finally admitting his feelings to John. Then to cuddling with him. And then to kissing... it goes on from there.

When Sherlock got the 'Okay' to go home, he knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to find John Watson and steal his heart, just like what he did with him.

This is the first time Sherlock has embraced his feelings for a long time. And he wanted to show it all to John. He even wrote a violin piece during his time in torture, wanting to play it for John when he came home.

He wanted to show how much he loved John Watson. His face was the first one Sherlock wanted to see on his first day back home.

Fate said he and John would meet again at a restaurant. Oh, Sherlock couldn't wait. His stomach twisted with anticipation and nervousness at the thought of seeing John again. His head clouded with all the words he wanted to say to John when their eyes would meet.

He was going to say it. God, he was going to say it. He was going to tell John Watson, the magnetizing light, he loved him. No more holding back. Sherlock already considered the possibilities and knew the actions he would have to follow through. People always talked about the perfect moment. This was it. This was when he was going to say- who is that?

Oh. Oh.

Timing, Sherlock. You're too late once again. John Watson, the man you've been pining over for four years, had found someone. And they're not you. The voice of Mycroft scolded him within the depths of Sherlock's mind.

If Sherlock had a heart, he would have said it was broken. But he doesn't. Because John stole it.

He could tell by how John looks at Mary that she wasn't going to leave any time soon. Sherlock noticed damn well the wedding ring on the table and couldn't help but feel upset. But why would he? He brought it upon himself when he took the fall. Sherlock did what he did and this is the consequence— tear down The Spider's web as soon as possible to come back to the man he loved, only to find that the man has already moved on and made a life without him.

At least John was still in his life. That was better than nothing.

He'll take the blows John throws at him, he'll take him popping the stitches open. He'll even take watching the man he loves marry off to another, taking the heart he stole back into Sherlock's chest before ripping it out and stomping on it, being forced to smile and be okay with it. He'll take having to play the violin piece he made for John Watson's ears only, only to be made for the dozens of people at the wedding to hear it as well. He'll take being beside John and not being the one saying 'I do'. Because John Watson is still in his life. And that was better than nothing.

And still. Sherlock wants more. He knew well greed corrupts the mind, and he's just letting it happen.

He doesn't want John just to be in his life. He wanted to experience what it was like to have John's lips press up against his. He wanted to feel the feeling in his chest when he finds out that John reciprocates the same longing Sherlock has been feeling. He wanted to be able to go to places and call John his date. He wanted John back in Baker Street, everything just the same, but instead of being best friends, they'd be lovers.

He wanted that. He chose John and he wanted to have him the way he wanted to.

But John chose Mary. And Sherlock respects that. It simply hurts.

Sherlock curses himself for plummeting deep in love with John. He knew from the beginning how this was going to play. He knew what roles the two played, and how it would never work out.

Because John was the blazing, alluring fire. And Sherlock was the moth who drew in too close.

And boy, did Sherlock get burned.

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As you can see, my main goal is to make the characters suffer. And you can never stop me until I'm satisfied (which is never). MWAHAHA!