You cannot fool Sherlock Holmes. Romanticism is stupid, feelings are camouflage.

The point of strings is dominance, obviously, even with a person as good as John Watson. John is not aware of the strings, he is just an idiot like everybody else. Only Sherlock can see them. Sherlock has trained himself to see them, to defend himself from them, which shows that he is an idiot as well because now he is under the control of the good doctor. But do you know what? After the first shock he does not even really care.

Until he brings her home with them.

"Stand still. Don't move. Very good."

Father wants me to be good. So I will be good.

"You'll have to do your best. I hope you understand?"

Yes, of course, I'm intelligent. I understand everything.

For example I understand that Father is a very important man. That is why he has to look important. And we, the family, are a part of him so we have to look important, too.

I also understand that father will hug me after I do well. I have to deserve it. I'll do what father tells me to.

I look at the strings of my violin. Sometimes when I am not good they will rip apart. Ripping apart strings is a bit not good because then father will not like me anymore.

Like the day before yesterday. I was in the garden with the magnifying glass my big brother has bought me secretly. I love my magnifying glass and I love my brother. He is already 12 years old and very intelligent. Someday I want to be like him. I don't know why he does not play the cello anymore, though.

I also love my mummy. And Father. But Father was so angry with me the day before yesterday when he saw that I was playing in the garden (he says 'playing' ... I was observing) instead of practicing for today. He yelled at me and I immediately went inside and got my violin because I have to look good today. Be good. But I was nervous because he was so furious. So I broke the strings.

John Watson might be the puppet master but Sherlock is a master at playing the violin. So there are strings, there are even ropes. So what? Sherlock will certainly take advantage of them. He was taught to do this. He will make them play his own melody, and John so loves to hear him play.

When John is holding the strings and Sherlock runs, John is dragged along. And John even looks like he is enjoying this although he hasn't slept for hours. They go to Chinatown and the museum and everything seems alright. They spend the night quietly together, going through the books and John does not even complain.

Maybe this is not so bad. Okay, Sherlock is a captive now, but John does not notice and Sherlock will do anything to keep him from noticing.

Anything.

John asks Sarah out. She accepts.

There are strings in Sherlock's flesh now, on his lips, in his eyes. And John is pulling them and it hurts so much. It's unfair because John does not pull on the strings he has attached to Sarah; they are not like ropes but like silky ribbons, much more comfortable. They are going out together and Sherlock has to follow. He feels humiliated, feels like he is on a leash - this should be John's part - and comforts himself with the fact that he goes with them because he has to investigate for the case.

Meanwhile his flesh is being ripped off his bones and he bleeds and bleeds and bleeds.

John does not notice.

"What the hell do you think have you been doing there?"

The strings are broken. I could not play. Father's guests were disappointed. They were promised some beautiful music.

I ripped the strings apart. I disappointed him. There won't be any hugs. There won't be any warmth.

Father tells me off and even slaps me but I do not listen.

I think. The thing I can do the best.

I think of being liked. Of liking. Do I need this?

I think without strings in the first place there could not be anything which could be broken.

Do I need strings?

Mummy cries. Mycroft wants to stop Father but gets slapped as well.

Mycroft does not play the cello anymore.

And suddenly I get it.

I got Father's violin just to please him.

I got Father's strings just to do what Father tells me.

Oh.

Sherlock has never unintentionally struck a false note on the violin again.

Sherlock has never felt so helpless as after the Chinese circus incident. They were at home now and their home is the place where they grow their strings. It is a sacred place. Because as much as Sherlock hates the strings, they are still part of John and everything that is John is sacred.

But John decided to take Sarah with them.

If only she chopped the bloody things apart, but no. She walks between them and pulls the ropes that connect Sherlock and John and it does not stop hurting. John glares at Sherlock as if he is disturbing him and Sarah.

I'd love to go now but you had to tie me up and I cannot move. Oh, but John does not know he's done that. So Sherlock stays quiet. And stays still. He cannot move, anyway.

Sherlock discovers that John Watson has his brain on a string when he realizes that his doctor might die any second. The chinese mafia got him. He cannot think, he even has to find the location they took John to on a map. Sherlock Holmes never uses maps but his brain has gone now, too.

Everything Sherlock thinks he is belongs to John.

At least Sherlock Holmes has no heart that could be tied up with a string and taken away.

After he rescued his puppet master and his fellow puppet, they are alone in the flat.

It still smells like Sarah. John smiles when he realizes this, but then he turns around and faces Sherlock. His smile gets even brighter.

"Thank you", John whispers.

Sherlock just nods and wants to retreat to his room to silently loathe Sarah and his situation and his own stupidity, when he suddenly feels a chest pressed to his, hands on his back and a head in the crook between his own head and his left shoulder.

Sherlock has been good earlier that night. And now he gets a hug and gets warmth.

It is simply the point of strings.