A/N: This is yet, a requested prompt from one of my followers on Tumblr. I must say, it took me quite a bit longer to get started than all the others, but I think I have a pretty good start.

WARNING: This may not end well. That's all I'm going to say for now...

More chapters to come!

Enjoy!

I will not pretend that my feelings, feelings that can hardly be explained, for my flat mate are nonexistent. That would be foolish. No, but I will hide them. They are messy and worm their way into every crevice of our fragile relationship, can tip the scale at any moment if I am not careful. I am master of my emotions, something I pride myself on. If I can manage to squash down any petty emotion as I have done in the past, then I can keep them below the surface now. But, this will surely be the most challenging attempt. Because wherever John is concerned, things become, complicated and I end up tangled in a sticky web, unable to free myself. I can't get tangled in the web this time. For both of our benefit. It's probably the most selfless thing that I have ever done. Letting John go. Letting him live the life he deserves, at the expense of my last tie to humanity…

Blame the fire

For it always burns.

It lights our way

But eats our path.

Guidance of a fool,

Riddles one and two.

Shadowy and clear,

It leaves the bones behind,

Exposed and underfed.

Without the fire,

Sight be damned.

Knowledge, lead the way!

For it is cool and distant,

Let the smoke clear away.

This new woman was worse than all of the others combined. My reasoning? She tolerated me. Every snide remark, every bitter truth I unearthed from her and had thrown back in her face, every, damn, time I openly expressed my opinion of her, she endured. And not only that, she took it with, grace. There was no glare, no puffing up in anger in order to defend her pride and dignity. Nothing. She was cool, calm, and collected. And worst of all, John was deeply invested in this woman.

Yes, John could get easily attached to women, but this was different. It was as if this woman had somehow managed to change something in John, something that previous girlfriends had been unable to do. And whatever that something was, whatever that woman had altered, it had completely erased John's urgency to comply with my requests.

When I would ask for a pen: "Get it yourself Sherlock, it's right there in front of you."

When I needed him to go to Scotland Yard for information on a case: "Can't right now Sherlock, going on a date with Mary. Be back in a couple of hours." (Oh yes, the woman's name is Mary, how did I manage to leave that out? See?! This woman was even affecting my ability to conjure up important information!)

When I asked him to come along with me to a crime scene: "Fine Sherlock, but only for a little while. I'm meeting up with Mary in a bit."

John has friends. John has girlfriends. But John has never, in the time that I have known him and otherwise, had such a committed relationship as he does with this Mary woman. Well, I suppose, he is rather committed to me, but never romantically and certainly not as much as he used to be. I need John for my work. And John needs me to keep him busy, stimulate his mind, separate him from the dull workings of everyday life. Surely that is all he needs?

Wrong. Wrong, on all counts. And I am rarely ever wrong. So what is this woman doing that I cannot see? What does this Mary have that I cannot give John? What have I missed?

I have been watching them from afar, John and Mary. Casually eavesdropping on their conversations, keeping an eye on them when they go out. If they could get any more boring, I would be utterly surprised. Would I? I mean, everything exceptional that could be happening between the two seems to lack completely. Every word they utter to each other is tedious, ordinary, and mundane. Every outing is, lackluster, to say the least. For God's sake, John's sense of humor seems to have taken a downturn since meeting Mary. So what then, is going on between them? I see absolutely no redeeming qualities in this relationship, and fully support a separation.

Of course, John disagrees.

"Sherlock, what are saying? You don't like her?" John demanded as he paced in the living room, pinching the bridge of his nose as he does whenever something agitates him.

"Oh, no not all. I just don't find her suitable for you."

"And since when do you give me dating advice?" I opened my mouth to answer but he held up a firm hand. "No, don't. I know what you're going to say. I just, can't believe that you don't like her!"

"Really?" I asked sardonically, picking up my bow and violin.

"No, don't start off on your, 'playing the violin just so you can ignore me' thing. We're having this conversation." John now stood before me, fists balled up, ears slowly turning red from anger. I contemplated him for a moment, then slowly put down the instrument.

"Why?" John tilted his head to the side.

"Why what?"

"Why do you want me to like her?" John's shoulders slackened some and he closed his eyes tiredly.

"It's not that I want you to like her, it's just…"

"It's just what? You don't want me to hate her? What John?"

"I just want you to tolerate her!" John burst, his eyes snapping open once more. "To give her a chance Sherlock."

"Why should I? It wouldn't benefit any of us. Why are you so keen on making this one work?"

"Because I love her Sherlock!"

I stayed seated in my chair, just staring at John. The silence, so pure it was almost like music, playing along to my whirring mind. I didn't dare say a word, for no words were required to express how I felt about this. I let my facial expression convey to John my dissatisfaction with his declaration.

John sighed heavily and then stood straight, attempting to salvage the situation by trying to give the appearance of order and discipline.

"I'm going out. Don't wait up for me." John said stiffly, grabbing his coat as he headed for the door.

"I never do." I said quietly, weaving the bitterness and contempt into the words so that they made John halt in the doorway.

"Right." He said firmly, then slammed the door behind him and clomped down the stairs.

I sat in my chair the whole entire night, listening for those familiar footsteps to bang their way up the stairs. They never did.

A/N:Btw, I wrote the poem myself. I have to say, that was one of the hardest parts about writing this fic, was coming up with a suitable poem that would set the tone for the rest of the fic. I suppose, I didn't have to write a poem, but it felt like it needed one. Anyways, sorry it's short. That seems to be a thing of mine, writing extremely short chapters and stories, but at least you can expect more. Thanks for reading!