A/N: Those darned plot bunnies birthed several Shenny ideas in my head this morning. This is one of them. Anyway, I find it really difficult to write in super genius Sheldon's (limited third-person) POV, but I hope you will all enjoy! This story references "The Electric Can Opener" but suggests an alternate ending. Also, reviews are great. Reviews are spectacular. Reviews are like delicious moon pies!
Disclaimer: I don't own TBBT. Sad.
[The Patience Passage]
Good things come to those who wait.
It was a mawkish maxim, of course. Good things came to those who worked diligently and contributed monumental, groundbreaking theories in respectable fields such as physics. Like Albert Einstein or Erwin Schrödinger.
But somewhere in that sentimental hokum was a microscopic grain of truth.
Sheldon Cooper sat quietly, deep in thought, as the familiar train clicked-and-clacked on. Indeed it was Meemaw who had first imparted these "words of wisdom" to him.
He remembered how devastated he had been when Richard Lederman had been announced the recipient of the Stevenson Award in the fall of '93. How broken his thirteen-year-and-a-half-old spirit had been.
But Meemaw, dearest Meemaw - after baking him his favorite after-dinner dessert of moonpies and singing him his favorite childhood ditties - had assured, "My nummy, nummy Moonpie, don't you worry. Good things come to those who wait."
And as always, she had been right.
One year later, he had been named the youngest recipient of the award. And while his younger wunderkind self had known that the win was inevitable and well-deserved for his early prospective work on M-theory, he had thought only of his dear, ol' Meemaw.
Sheldon turned his head slightly and peered out the window of the passenger car. He was quite glad that he had chosen to alter his rigid Saturday night activities - the indigo night sky painted with stars, as well as the clickity-clack of the train, helped to clear the numerous theories and equations that pervaded his mind constantly and focus on this weekly ritual.
His mind next shifted to his '08 arctic expedition, now infamously titled "The Electric Can Opener Fluctuation" by his colleagues. It had been one of the darkest times in his life. Not only had he discovered that the results of his seemingly fruitful experiments were complete and utter lies, but he had also been betrayed so deliberately by his three closest friends.
His then 28-year-old self had been cruelly played, and the whole experience was akin to Luke Skywalker finding out that Darth Vader was actually his father. Those three months had been a sham and Sheldon Cooper, M.A., Ph.D., Sc.D had become the laughingstock of the physics department without having come any closer to confirming string theory.
But as soon as he'd resolved to withdraw from the university forever and give up on his research, Meemaw had called. Sweet Meemaw.
"Moonpie," she'd coaxed, "don't let this itty-bitty incident give you the blues. You keep truckin' on! Remember, good things come to those who wait."
And so he had. Waited, that is.
Ever since that mishap, he'd been more determined than ever. His eye had been on the prize - the gilded glory that would finally validate his entire life's work.
But something had changed in the last couple years. It pained him to admit the truth, but he'd been taken. The golden prize that he'd sought after for so long had slowly morphed into the flesh-and-blood form of an unexpected flaxen creature.
And her constant presence in 4A was now almost unbearable. He could no longer look into those green eyes without having the compulsive desire to confront the growing feelings that consumed him. He could no longer banter about in fear of divulging the words that would alter their friendship forever. And he could no longer endure Saturday nights - the nights that had once been theirs - when she and his best friend would mark their territory on the couch and engage in the public displays of affection that social convention dictated as normal.
Thus, Sheldon's Saturday nights were spent on the beloved Coast Starlight, wherein he would quietly extract those precious intimate memories of theirs from the deepest corners of his mind. As he was doing now.
/
"Sing 'Soft Kitty' to me," she mimicked mischievously.
"'Soft Kitty' is for when you're sick. You're not sick," he refuted.
"Injured and drugged is kind of sick," she insisted.
/
He closed his eyes as his eidetic memory recreated every detail of that moment. His mouth curved into a half-smile and in that moment, Sheldon Cooper was truly happy.
And so sentimental hokum became his mantra. He repeated the proverbial phrase to himself as the clickity-clack wheels of the train continued on and on.
Good things come to those who wait.
Good things come to those who wait.
Good things come to those who wait.
Their time would come - there was no doubt in his mind. It was simply a matter of waiting.