Emily smiled warmly at Sherlock as he finished regaling the tale of how his blogger had fallen into the Thames after he freaked out about a seagull dive-bombing him while they were trying to wrap up a smuggling ring case.

"Speaking of John," she began, "how has your correspondence been going with him? I assume you're still writing him?"

"Good… It's good," he answered honestly. Sherlock thought about it a little more with a slight frown on his face as he reflected on their letters. "John is my best friend and the person who knows me the most... he asked me trivial—what I thought was trivial—questions about my favorite color, music, book… while the answers don't matter, it sparked a deeper conversation that I hadn't fully expected."

His therapist sat there patiently and waited for him to continue as he seemed to be on the precipice of a revelation, one that she knew he needed to make if he was to move beyond this emotional plateau where he was stuck.

"Sometimes I have these... I don't know… thoughts about him. I just feel waves of fondness for John," the genius murmured, more to himself than his therapist.

"What does that mean to you exactly?" she asked quietly as not to break him out of the spell he had woven around himself.

Sherlock took a deep breath and answered, "That there are times I think about him to the point of distraction and there isn't anything I wouldn't do for him… I get this sensation…" he gestured to his sternum.

"Describe the feeling for me," the psychologist prompted.

"Like a fluttering sensation, sometimes in my stomach."

"I know we talked before about you feeling that John wastes his time with his girlfriend," she reminded him. "Do you ever feel… jealous… that he gives them his time instead of you?"

The consulting detective blinked at her with a startled expression on his face, like the thought had just occurred to him. "Yes—I suppose that's how I've felt. I've certainly wanted him to be with me instead."

He became quiet, lost in his thoughts for a few moments before he told her, "I don't know how far back you read his blog, but… we had a run in with a criminal mastermind—Moriarty—a few years ago, and he threatened to bring me down. He nearly succeeded, too. Moriarty told me that if I didn't kill myself, he would in turn murder my closest friends. While I was concerned about Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade… the thought that John could have been hurt because of me… I panicked, the thought of the world being deprived of Doctor John Watson—I couldn't live with myself if something were to happen to him because of me."

"Sherlock," Emily started kindly, "You do realize that it's not a typical response for a flatmate to be jealous of their friend's significant others, or for you to have such a visceral reaction to Moriatry's threat—specifically for John… right?"

"I… suppose…"

"What do you think that means?"

She watched as realization finally dawned in his eyes, followed by a sharp inhalation of breath and a look of utter panic.


Rue de la Pise

F-06360 Eze Village

France

4 June, 201-

Dear John,

I should very much like to read your journals from university. Thanks to our friendship, your blog has much improved, though your outlandish tales of our escapades are more fantasy than a factual account of our cases. I admit it's good for entertainment value, but I do fear that you're giving the public an unrealistic expectation of our services. I'm neither a magician nor a miracle worker. It helps me see myself through your eyes, I'm so much cleverer.

John Watson—what are you suggesting? I'm not going to divulge my thoughts on you in your Dress Blues. And that is all I have to say on the matter.

You want to know who would make the cut to be my lover? That's a dangerous road to go down, John. Are you sure you want to? Oh, by the way—I want you to know that I received that copy of Treasure Island you sent. Thank you-that was very thoughtful and touching. There is no need to be disturbed by my feelings of loneliness; much of it is of my own making. Though I have discovered that this is what friends do, they are concerned about the well-being and happiness of their mates? Your steadfast companionship has gone a long way to improve my disposition. My mother has commented on it several times. It is I who owe you.

Well, your army moniker Three Continents Watson suddenly makes a lot of sense in lieu of this knowledge of your favorite Def Leppard song. Tell me, do you enjoy being tied and tamed? If you claim to be 'a bad boy at heart', that would suggest that you potentially prefer to be the one doing the tying. I assure you that I am quite capable of loosening up under the right circumstances. And yes, Mycroft wore a tee-shirt to the concert, but sadly there is no evidence.

While I did not have such a religious upbringing, it is understandable how Let it Be would evoke such feelings. I didn't know you were raised Catholic. I can only imagine the things that you have seen at war—as a doctor you would see the most horrid of things. Though, I do think that part of you needs the adrenaline rush; you are terrified of a life without the thrill of the macabre. But you are surely allowed moments of weakness, especially in light of all you have experienced.

John, do you really think so little of me? While I acknowledge that I have not been supportive of your romantic endeavors in the past, I do genuinely want you to be happy. I give you my word that I will try harder in the future to not interfere as much as I have. Perhaps I have not been the best at expressing it, but I truly was trying to save you from a much more painful break-up further down the road. I thought of it as just pulling off a plaster to be done with it, though I never gave much thought to how you might have felt in that/those moment(s). I offer you my sincerest apology.

There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.

Sherlock