+1
Sherlock wasn't even aware of what he was saying, he was so focused on his racing thoughts that the inn could have been going up in flames around him for all he was aware.
The hound MUST be real because I saw it with my own eyes but I can't have seen it because it is not possible, it can't logically exist. However, it must exist because I saw it and my eyes don't lie, but there is no way I could have.
Round and round the logic went, a paradox burning itself out as Sherlock repeated the circle searching for some extraneous thread that would provide an exit and explain how both of the solutions were possible. Sherlock had spent so much time learning to rely on and completely trust his perception that the possibility of his being deceived by it was unthinkable and caused him a great deal of mental conflict.
Sherlock knew he was saying something and he could hear John talking to him in response but didn't notice what either of them were saying, all of his brain's computational power was being dedicated to finding a solution to the paradox to such an extent that he simply didn't have the resources available to properly process the conversation - he just had to solve the paradox, he couldn't deal with something so illogical existing, unsolved, in his head.
All Sherlock could analyse from his surroundings was that his conversation with John was making him more and more tense, a sensation aided by the frustration Sherlock felt with the paradox of the hound. Suddenly, Sherlock was aware of the words "I don't have friends," bursting from his lungs, and the paradox cycle slowed slightly to allow Sherlock to see John's face properly. Even Sherlock could read facial expressions well enough to understand that he had hurt John.
"No. Wonder why?" John responded shortly, before turning on his heel and leaving the room.
Sherlock wanted to go after him, he really did, but he found himself physically incapable of abandoning his train of thought to so much as stand up. "There is nothing wrong with me, and that is absolutely the truth," Sherlock reminded himself as the paradox picked up speed and was added to with the repetition of the words come back, John.
Author's notes: My apologies if this chapter comes across as slightly rushed, I wrote it in five minutes flat after remembering that tomorrow is June so this was my last opportunity to finish before Camp NaNoWriMo begins (my entry WILL be making its way onto this site as I write it seeing as it will be a fanfic but probably not for a couple of days - I'll be a bit busy going out with my family and eating cake on the first).
Again, thank you to all readers/reviewers/alerters/favouriters, I hope you enjoyed this fic and I apologise to whom it may concern for the cardboard, explosions et cetera - if it's any consolation I couldn't stop wincing when I wrote those parts either. Despite this, I enjoyed writing the fic and am glad to to think that I may have helped some people to understand Aspergers/autism a bit better - as Sherlock demonstrates, it's not a disability or an illness, it is just a difference and some of the symptoms that can result in overloading et cetera are also advantages - without Sherlock's heightened awareness of sensory input his deductions would not come so quickly, and his logical way of thinking enables him to experience detachment so as to remain objective which is obviously invaluable when dealing with things like murders.
Hmm, I'm wittering now, so I'll just shut up and return to planning my next project. Thank you again to all of you for your collective loveliness. :D