Thank you to all the readers who clicked on the story, read the first chapter and read it this far, to those who added me to their author alerts and favorites, and to those who added the story to their alerts and favorites, thank you all for reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I the creator of any characters below from "Sherlock", that remains property of the BBC, Mark Gatiss, and Steven Moffat. And since the rights to the Sherlock world are now public domain, a shout-out to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. That's correct, I just shouted-out a knight.
I do not own nor am I the creator of any lyrics from the song "Million Dollar Man," that remains the property of Lana Del Rey, Interscope, Polydor, and Stranger.

-How did you get that way? I don't know-

I suppose I'll never know how you really got to be the way you are. I've never asked, I don't know that you'd answer me. I don't know what the answer even could be.

All I can think of is the conversation we had that day victory square park...

We had gotten tea, I got orange pekoe and you had jasmine. We'd been walking for several hours at that point, it was just after my breakup with Mandy, and in an effort to get me out of the house you suggested a walk.
We were leaning against the guardrail around the pond, sipping tea. The pond was a typical city made one, all cement and stagnant water.

"I just don't understand, what's wrong with me?" I asked hopelessly.

"I'm sure it's nothing to do with you," you replied as you looked across the pond.

"But no, really Sherlock! It makes no sense that there would be something wrong with all the women I've dated, and nothing wrong with me."

You peered at me briefly and frowned, "well maybe that's the problem right there."

"What, dating? I've been thinking I should stop, I mean it seems nearly pointless I'm not gett-" I stopped as soon as I realized you were laughing at me. "-what's so amusing, exactly?"

"I meant women, maybe your problem is that you are dating women." I felt so foolish, and all the realizations clinked together. All the little things that I notice about you suddenly added up. The way you use delicate hands with something that is fragile, but those same hands can also be cruel. How your eyes don't miss things that your mind may not register. And how I walked into a room and thought 'good, Sherlock is here.' I had stupidly passed it off as just being how I thought of you, a side effect of being around you.

"I'm not gay," I lied-was I lying?

I still don't honestly know, maybe lying to myself. I certainly now knew that I was attracted to you more than on a platonic level.

But did I want to fuck you?

Suddenly I had no idea what I felt, was I never in love with any of the women I had been with and just thought I was?

And there you were interrupting my thoughts, making it impossible to think while your eyes scrutinized my every breath and twitch.

After what felt like a long time you spoke in that tone you use when I've missed an important detail.

"I wasn't saying you were gay, just that you should explore your options. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Have you-did you ever-even as a kid?"

You chuckled though there was a note of sadness to it, "No John, never as a-no, not really."

"What do you mean 'not really'?"

You paused, I had pushed you and I didn't think you were going to respond.

"I did not have a very happy childhood John, and I prefer not to think about it, though I will tell you... I do not remember much of my childhood before the age of 17. Apparently I suffered some kind of trauma, an event that was severe enough to block my memory and all of the memories leading up to the event. I retained academic knowledge, but familial and interactive memories were almost entirely gone. I've recovered a few over the years of course, but I figure the rest are meant to stay hidden."

I must have been giving you a look that was part sympathy, part diagnostic because then you said;

"Don't give me that look John, please not you. I've gotten over it by now and really don't mind."

"but Sherlock this is you, doesn't the not knowing bother you?"

"In some ways it does, but dwelling on it won't change anything now. That ship has sailed."

You looked into my eyes then, and studied. Satisfied with what you found, you moved away from the rail and we made our way out of the park. I caught myself looking at your mouth and wondering about exploring my options.

"That's when I made the mind palace, though it wasn't a palace then. I called it a fortress."

"Umm... Uh, why'd it change to a palace?"

"I needed something larger and more decadent," you smirked.

So maybe I have more answers than I had thought.

-Your screwed up and brilliant-

You're screwed up maybe a bit more than most, but you're also millions of kilometers ahead of everyone else when it comes to intelligence.

Of course you would invite yourself out on my date, make fun of my blog, make me take a computer out to a crime scene while you sit in the flat in your bed sheet, intentionally drug me, get me in the press, and get a host of assassins within a stones throw from our doorstep.

And yet you do all this and it always seems to serve some kind of purpose. Usually it's pretty damn brilliant.

-You look like a million dollar man, so why is my heart broke-

You dress rather well for someone who doesn't care for social niceties. You certainly care about how you look. It's one of the things that make you heartbreakingly beautiful.

Do you own a single pair of jeans by the way? I suppose you must for disguises.

I wish I could tell you, actually tell you, how much I enjoy when we've been on a case and your clothes get all rumpled.

You break my heart too.

Someone needs to break the story's review virginity!