How to Seduce an Army Detective- Chapter 1
The Heart
Sherlock had often thought of John as a quiet, calm character.
Certainly not one who would be interested by a person like him. Sociopathic tendencies, social anxiety issues, and an extreme lack of empathy. Who would ever find Sherlock, an alien-like person, entertaining or as a human being.
What defines a human being? Sherlock had thought of this question often, and he had always came up with the same answer: Homo sapiens, primates in the family of Hominidae, of the genus of Homo. Descended from an early species of chimpanzee, which evolved into the species of Australopithecines into the genus Homo.
That was the most descriptive definition of "human" that Sherlock could give. Sure, there were different types with different genetics and features, but as a general statement, that is what he could come up with. It was simple science, and the overall idea was not too difficult to grasp, even a young person could understand it.
But Sherlock had much trouble.
He was an expert in anatomy, certainly knew as much as any physiologist did about organs and functions and whatnot. But what he could not understand was how many layers are in a human.
There is so much more than anatomy to a human, others say. The shallow-minded ones associate love with the heart. Which was absolutely ridiculous, of course. The heart pumps oxygen throughout the bloodstream, it does not hold emotions or control your affection towards another being.
He was confused as to why he decided to come to John for help. John was a doctor, of course, but he had a goddamn heart, as others would say. It was early morning on a Saturday, John reading the paper at the table, sipping coffee as Sherlock observed the tense muscles in his hand.
"John." Sherlock focused on his own hand, which was tapping the table with ferocity, the cold metal pressing against his fingertips. "Don't you think it is ridiculous?"
John looked up from his paper, his blond but greying hair shining under the kitchen lights. "What is?"
"You're a doctor, John."
John whistled and rolled his eyes. "I'm perfectly aware, Sherlock."
"Well, why would you associate love with an organ whose sole purpose is to oxygenate blood and keep it flowing?"
John sipped his coffee again, still looking at his paper. "Well, I'm not exactly sure. I know that the ancient Egypt-"
Sherlock groaned. "Yes, yes, I know. The ancient Egyptians associated your thought process and other basic functions of the brain to the heart. When nobilities were buried, they would take out the heart and preserve it in a jar to keep in your burial chamber. Of course I know that." He sneered, but his eyes tilted slightly downwards.
John rolled his eyes and sighed. "Acting like a smartass isn't a good way to treat people who give you answers, you know."
"You weren't giving me any answers."
John set down his paper and sighed, setting one half of his face on his hand.
"Do you believe it?"
John looked up. "What?"
"You heard me. Do you honestly believe that love comes from the heart?
"Yes. Well, maybe," John sipped his coffee, gazing intensely into Sherlock's pondering eyes and then flickering them back down, "There's some sort of part of the brain that controls love and emotions. Maybe what people consider the heart is really that part of you. I like the idea of the normal functions of your body being separated from the emotional parts."
Sherlock kept looking at John, noticing how he pursed his lips as he wrapped his mouth around the mug. He quickly shot them back down before John could notice. "Interesting. Thank you."
"What made you think of that topic all of a sudden?" John was interested in how Sherlock had come to think of anything even remotely emotional. Sherlock was cold and mind, John was warm and heart. The fact that Sherlock had mentioned something along the lines of emotions was incredibly rare.
"Data. I was intrigued by the fact that people would mistake a natural occurrence of the mind to an organ that has absolutely nothing to do with emotions." He was partly telling the truth.
They sat there for a moment, awkwardly portraying the silence, and Sherlock wondered if John could see through his lie.
"I couldn't gather the data myself, I had to ask someone who would know."
"Why would you come to me?"
"Because I have been reliably informed that I am a machine without a heart, and I know for a fact that you are in fact someone with one." Sherlock turned his head to the side, taking a deep breath, immediately regretting what he said.
"Do you really think I believe what everyone else says about you?" John was appalled that Sherlock would think of him that way. John had only thought about him as a machine at first, but once he got to know him, it was different... Wasn't it?
"You act like you do." Sherlock didn't even stir. He calmly tapped his fingers on the table, and John noticed the whirring palpitation of his fingers, the tendons flexing themselves across the metal.
"I don't mean to. You know I don't."
"Do I?" Sherlock's face turned into one of anger, and John became slightly frightened. Interesting, he had never been very frightened by anyone, he was a soldier. But he was quite scared and intrigued with Sherlock Holmes, although he did not know exactly why. Sherlock was bigger than John, sure, but John was stronger.
"Well, I don't. You do have a heart, Sherlock, and one of the biggest I have ever seen." John's face remained plastered as a calm one, and he thought he saw a tiny flicker of satisfaction in blue speckled eyes for a moment.
"Thank you. I've never really considered myself that way."
"Well, you should. You go around saving people and exposing murderers all the time. Who else would do that?"
"Someone who isn't a maniac?"
They both chuckled, and Sherlock smiled softly. He noticed how the curve of John's lip twinged towards the right as his mouth turned upwards. John smelled like coffee and cotton, a smell that filled the flat with a soft and inviting aura, despite all the scientific experiments and human body parts.
"There's definitely more to you than most people realize, Sherlock. And I'm perfectly honored to see through what everyone else does. It makes living with you just a shred more tolerable." They laughed, and Sherlock could feel the presence of warmth and comfort seeping in through his sheets. He felt warm, even though he was barely wearing anything.
"You too, blogger. You too."
