Unfaithful
Sherlock Holmes knew that he was a determined person- other people might call it stubborn, but Sherlock had never given much thought to the opinion of other people.
And once he had his mind made up, he never changed it. Ever. Or so he had thought.
His life was ruled by logic and reason, and he was proud of that. Sentiment was a weakness and love was for idiots who couldn't control their minds- or bodies.
The concept of lust was clear to him in theory, but of course he had never lost enough of his control to actually experience it himself.
But that had never bothered him; it was quite a simple emotion after all.
The only thing that mattered was his work- he considered himself married to his job and it was the only long-term relationship he had ever intended to have.
And then John Watson walked into the picture and everything went to hell. It had all started quite innocently. He was just a flatmate after all. A flatmate, who was incredibly useful, a former army doctor, a crack shot and hungered for adventure.
In retrospect, everything had started on the very first case- actually, with one little word: Brilliant.
They had been in a cab and he had explained his methods to John for the first time and instead of the expected 'piss off' the doctor had been awed and excited like a little child.
And sooner than he realised, the gentle doctor had clawed his way right into his heart. That stupid, useless muscle! Well- maybe not so useless after all- it DID keep his blood circulation going…
But that was beside the point- the point was, that he was cheating on his long term relationship to his work. He was being unfaithful.
And the worst of all was that he couldn't bring himself to care.