I do NOT own anything BBC, Sherlock, Molly, Moffat Gattiss, ACD, or Neruda. This is just something that was brought to my attention by my dear Chaosisblue.
So, dear, this is why I bookmarked this...teehee. See, it's so much better since I didn't tell you. Bwahahaha!
Anyway, here you go, Neruda inspired Sherlolly!
Enjoy!
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Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
He was certainly not what any 'normal' girl would consider a suitable lover. By that standard, he was not who any girl would see as a suitable friend. Yet, for Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes was her most cherished and best kept secret. She was his, even if he didn't know it.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
She could see him. Not the 'him' that he tried to play off to everyone. Not the sociopath, the rude, inconsiderate man, who had no regard for his own emotions, much less the emotions of others. No, it was the times when he thought no one was looking. The moments when he would lower his walls just enough, and she could catch a glimpse of the real man. That was who she had fallen in love with. The real Sherlock, the one trapped inside himself.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
She really shouldn't. Shouldn't love him, or even like him. He was cruel, especially to her. Yet, Molly loved him all the same. She offered herself to him, even if he never saw or acted on it. Some would see it as her allowing him to use her, taking advantage of her feelings for his own personal disposal. Molly didn't see it that way. She merely wanted to be there for him. However she could.
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
She didn't count. She would never count. At least, not in that regard. All she could do was continue to be by his side, ready to help him with whatever he needed her for. For her, for now, that was enough.
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Well, lalalala. There ya go. Short little thing. Just a bit. Hope you enjoyed.