It was cold. The temperature in the cab was not to his liking. Everything in his life as of late was not to his liking. He felt raw and vulnerable. His world had been tossed into the air and everything with which he was familiar, which gave him the slightest comfort, had landed far afield and askew. Sherlock had no choice but to plow his way through and try to make it all right again. He sincerely doubted anything would truly be alright ever again.
At least she was safe. He took the assignment on two conditions: MI6 would make sure to keep Watson out of harm's way and they would keep Mycroft uninformed as to Sherlock's whereabouts and of Watson's protected status. He did not trust his brother to hold his or Joan's best interests in his black heart.
The taxi turned onto the expressway. Traffic was moving briskly for this hour of the morning. Sherlock allowed himself a small indulgence, a thought of Watson. That look on her face. He sighed and looked out the cab's window. That look on her face when he turned and waved goodbye ... it had crushed him. Perhaps he was wrong about her lack of feelings. He took Mycroft's comments with a grain of salt but understood his brother well enough to know there was a kernel of truth in what he said. Watson had told him almost the same thing herself. He was not enough for her. She needed more. Sherlock twitched and fidgeted, pulling at his jacket, moving his valise two inches to the left, hoping that the movement would drive the image of her face out his mind...
But the thoughts presented themselves once more. What was it she needed? He could not even begin to understand what she wanted. Mycroft, that pompous ass, had been right, Watson was the person he loved most in the world. But she, she felt otherwise. Turned out to be just her sense of responsibility that kept her with him. He felt hurt and exposed, once more on the outside looking in. Moriarty, insane though she may be, was right, trying to connect with others is not a worthwhile endeavor.
Sherlock sighed again and ground his palms into his eyes The feeling of emptiness, of being alone on the planet was crawling over him again. It was familiar, he'd lived with it much longer than he had with Watson. He cared for Watson enough to hope she found what that "more" was even if it took her away from him. He would miss her though, not really sure he'd be ever able to let her go completely. She would always be his Watson.
The cab turned off the expressway towards the terminals. Time to put all this away. There was a puzzle to solve, at least his mind would be kept busy and away from thoughts of her. He was strong. As long as he knew she was safe, he could continue.