A/N: This is the second Sherlock BBC fic I ever wrote. It is unbetaed and not brit-picked. Sherlock and subsequent characters don't belong to me - I just like to play with them. Here. Have a bit of free-form (falling?) poetry.

Leap

There are so many misunderstandings surrounding sociopaths

So many people misdiagnosed

That's what he's really concerned about

How to define himself without the safety of that label

Without the certainty, the security, it provides

There can be no definitions anymore

This isn't the time for labels, or boxes

Even the sort in one's own head

This is the time for honesty

The stakes are high

At least as far off the ground as he is

This is a new sort of game

There's a familiar flash of resentment as he watches John answer the mobile

Problem, Sherlock?

Yes, there's a bloody problem

He is the problem

This is a problem

This world, these people

So calm, so unconcerned

So easy, not being him

Not easy, being John now, either

He pushes the resentment away

Doesn't believe in God

But maybe there's something?

Someone, with quite the sense of humor

He doesn't always relate

Doesn't always get the cosmic joke

Maybe that's why it's been easy to call him autistic

Another label, useless, he discards it

Can anyone, even Sherlock Holmes always get God's jokes?

Easy to resent John

Loyal, trusting John

Always surpassing his expectations

No one surpassed his expectations

Until John

John came and brought confusion

But he made everything interesting

One layer more complicated

But also more vulnerable

Or maybe no more vulnerable at all?

But no one else needed to know

Vulnerable isn't interesting

Isn't mysterious

It's synonymous to weakness, defenselessness

Susceptible, exposed

Loving someone isn't glamorous

How do other people tolerate it?

Something happening outside your control

Not feeling quite yourself anymore

Pushed and pulled around by feelings

By enemies, by bad men

There weren't bad men, before

Just men, just women

Tedious

Now it's like he's watching the world through a screen

A screen built by John

Against his will

Despite what either of them wanted

They've happened to each other

There's no undoing this

Time is tiresome

It's only perceptible in the one direction

Not a time for doubts

Just a quick leap

Air rushing past

A momentary flash of doubt

So quick it's almost forgettable

But then

He's pulled it off.