Domesticated?
Never.
Wiser perhaps. Just a bit wiser.
Everyone evolves. Superior minds do it in a lifespan, if they are lucky. Others need eternity.
But learning to love is not simple.
Nobody teaches you how. Nobody ever could.
You just learn it.
Some silly telegrams to read at a wedding party can do as anything else.
And those... those lil' moments you feel like a betrayed drama queen. She having a Christmas present perfectly wrapped for someone else, all those sociopaths in her life, just cardboard cutouts of him in one way or the other. That... That... T-h-om... now.
And, I mean, sometimes you put your best smile on and feel like a perfectly armoured knight ready for all sorts of battles, and then it just slides away from your face in a couple of seconds, leaving you naked in the middle of nowhere.
Here be dragons! Being loved is just as difficult. It is, definitely.
That's why superior minds evolve. There are puzzles to be solved, deductions to be made.
They go for it and then suddenly it's all a matter of heart and blood. Mud is everywhere.
Something you just feel and your fake smile is gone.
"You always feel pain Sherlock," Moriarty screamed. "But you don't have to FEAR it! Pain, loss, heartbreak, death. It's all good."
"Now look at me and repeat: It's all good." John was sitting in front of him as usual in his living room at 221B Baker Street.
"Repeat it, Sherlock!"
Sherlock stared at him blankly.
"Repeat it!"
He remained silent.
"Sherlock!... Sherlock!... Sherlock!"
He shook his head and found himself suddendly conscious in Molly's apartment.
He turned and looked at Molly in bewilderment.
"You were mumbling something about pain, Sherlock, are you ok?" asked Molly.
"I am."
That spare bedroom, her bedroom, he never used it.
They were sitting on her couch. Well, not actually sitting: she was laying on the far right side of it and he was hunkering down on the left, watching some stupid quiz show on tv.
But when night fell their bodies wove instinctly together. They were like cats in a warm sleeping hug.
One of his eyes half closed, looking at those pink striped socks of hers.
