Hello!

Thank you so much, followers! I really didn't expect anyone to follow my story, but I'm so excited about it!

I would also get really, really excited about any reviews you have for me. *Wink wink - nudge, nudge* I'm always paranoid that I get Sherlock all wrong, even though I love him and I'm so nice it's fun to be kind of mean through him once in a while. Feel free to give me any constructive crit you may have for me. :)

So, in this chapter is a bit of silliness and Sherlock getting to know the Conners better, and I do have Jo quote a lyric or two from the following songs (it's not horribly cheesy, I promise - just a hint of cheddar):

"All Kinds of Kinds" by Miranda Lambert

"Fools" by Lauren Aquilina (She's brilliant if you've never heard of her. Youtube her.)

"Come What May" from Moulin Rouge.

There is also a reference to the book "Love You Forever" by Robert Munsch and a reference to a poem from William Wadsworth called "She Dwelt Among Untrodden Ways". It was my favorite poem in high school, and it is still my favorite poem.

Obviously, I do not own any of the songs, or literature, or Sherlock.

Chapter 4, In Which Love is a Song

Sherlock Holmes had the perfect sentiment specimen to observe, and her name was Josephine Conners. He realized this as soon as he realized that he disliked her. He was indifferent to her, those first few times they happened to meet. After the episode with the tracker in the morgue, however, Josephine was on high alert at all times – at least when Sherlock Holmes was involved. She was apparently a woman of her word, and she had not allowed Sarah Jane to help Sherlock at all, unless it was under the comfort of her own sickeningly sweet little roof. This was very irritating. John had reminded Sherlock again and again that Sarah Jane was seven, but age meant nothing at all, in the grand scheme of things. At least that was Sherlock's argument. He never won. Again, irritating.

So he tried his old tricks – manipulating feelings. Specifically, the feelings of the legal guardian of the seven year old genius whose mind he wanted to use. Although he was brilliant, he was also lazy, and when he found someone whose work he could trust, he did everything in his power to make sure they did that work for him. To get Sarah Jane to work for him, he needed her sister Josephine. And he firmly believed the way to do that was to win her feelings.

Not romantic feelings. Oh, no. He'd learned his lesson with Molly on that one. And he certainly didn't need any other person fawning over him, annoying him and distracting him with sighs and nervous giggles. He much preferred Molly now that she could carry on an intelligent conversation with him. Besides, based on their interactions the first time he saw Jo and Casey together (her cheeks were lightly flushed, her smile was warmer and broader than for anyone else he'd seen her meet, pupils dilated slightly; his expression softened when he saw her standing behind Sarah Jane, and he had readily accepted her invitation to supper) he knew that Josephine already had romantic feelings for Agent Casey Long. So no, not those types of feelings.

He'd have to go with friendly affection. And he tried. Oh, how he tried! He attempted dull conversations about weather and music and novels and complimenting her on her musical and baking skills (she really was a decent piano player and an excellent baker) and teasing her in a friendly manner about her poor cooking (she fried eggs, made spaghetti, and anything that came frozen or from a tin. That was it.) He tried ignoring her whenever she hummed and sang (she had the most irritating habit of singing song lyrics to you as a means of conversation.)

Sherlock recalled the first time he'd witnessed that awful singing habit earlier that week. He and John had arrived with a url and a need to find the computer from an internet café that posted it. Sarah had opened the door and invited them in, and Ian and Casey were discussing the latest football match on the telly, in between assignments. Josephine was making grilled cheese and tomato soup for dinner, and baking apple pie for dessert. The grilled cheese was burnt, but the pie smelled heavenly, and the assault on his senses was too much for Sherlock to take.

"How do you manage that?" Sherlock had asked immediately.

"Manage what?" Josephine replied, as she scraped some burnt bits off of the skillet before placing another sandwich on it.

"How do you manage to burn whatever you cook into oblivion, but everything you bake turns out perfectly? It's the same basic chemical reactions for each. It's simple recipes and formulas, and it's completely illogical that you should be so well-versed in one and abysmal in the other." He gave her a stiff sort of smile to let her know he was teasing her.

Sarah snorted and John gave him his is-this-seriously-your-idea-of-friendly-conversation -you're-embarrassing-me look. Ian and Casey both laughed, and Jo stared at him for a moment with a funny sort of look on her face and a smile in her eyes. Then she shrugged, laughed, and began to sing.

It wasn't that she had a bad voice. It was clear and thin, and years of piano-playing had made her able to carry a tune. It was her choice of songs that were torture.

"Ever since the beginning,

To keep the world spinning,

It takes all kinds of kinds."

Later, at home with Mary, John had looked up the song – a country and western song by one American Miranda Lambert - and listened to the whole thing, laughing uncontrollably. Irritation at its finest.

And that evening, she had continued humming and singing without another word to him, and had insisted that Sarah Jane eat dinner before even looking at the url.

Sherlock frowned and emphatically deleted that memory from his mind. There was no reason to keep that one.

Eventually, he had gotten Sarah to trace the url (it had taken ten minutes). But he had failed in his attempt to befriend Josephine and so have easier access to her sister. Compliments, dull conversation, and fake smiles did not work on Josephine. Of course, the fact that he tried all of these things in one fifteen minute attempt to get Sarah to trace a url probably didn't help.

So his next plan of attack was what came most naturally to him – being a gigantic jerk. The next time Sarah was assisting him, he got Josephine out of earshot and insulted her annoying habits, picked up on her self-consciousness about her responsibility to raise Sarah Jane, and her relationship with Casey, and picked them apart mercilessly.

"He's slept with three women in the past year. All traditionally prettier than you, and the second one he stayed with for…four months."

She had stiffened her spine and replied. "Thanks for that. I know sometimes he has to…sleep with women. That's part of his job. All James Bond, and that. Besides, we're not in a relationship, so he has no reason to answer to me."

"But you're both obviously attracted to one another. Why aren't you in a relationship? Although relationships are ridiculous to begin with, so I suppose I can understand your avoidance."

"Because he has England and the whole bloody world to save, which does, you know, take him away a lot, and does occasionally require him to seduce other women, and I have – I have Sarah Jane to take care of."

"Ah. Pity you couldn't afford to send her to uni early. Although I'm sure my dear brother has offered to pay, if she signs a government contract. Perhaps I could-"

"Don't you dare." But the words were said with a smile, not anger – not what he expected. "She'll earn her own scholarship when she's got a mind to. Right now, she needs children her own age. She needs social skills so she doesn't turn from a highly-functioning child genius to a highly-functioning sociopath." Again, with that smile.

"I'm not offering because I care about Sarah Jane. It would simply be easier for me to use her mind if she were studying away from you."

And then she'd started singing at him again – "Those hardest to love need it most…" and then humming, and then singing again, and she went back to cleaning –

And it irritated him because she obviously thought she understood how he worked, and nothing he said or did fazed her. And then he realized – Josephine had a bit of a gift of her own, and it wasn't a half-decent musical ability and it wasn't delicious biscuits. Josephine had self-control. She had the self control of a woman who'd given up her own schooling and career to fold her brilliant little sister's underwear and pack her lunches every day. She had the self control of a woman who loved a man enough to wait for him until the day he retired from the spy life, if that day ever came. She had the self-control of a woman who hated cats with the passion of a thousand burning suns, but tolerated, cared for, and even pretended to like her little sister's cat, Lucy, because that fat, old cat was the only thing left of their parents and Sarah Jane just loved it. She had the self-control of a woman who was fiercely protective of her little sister, and did not want her dragged into anything dangerous, but realized that these dangerous things were what Sarah Jane loved and that Sarah Jane could definitely make the world less dangerous if she chose. So she let Sarah Jane help Ian and Sherlock, occasionally. On her terms.

No matter how much he tried to flatter and manipulate her, no matter how much he deduced her, no matter how coldly he spoke to her, she didn't lash out at him (except to sing those ridiculously awful songs) and she didn't forbid Sarah Jane from helping him. Josephine Conners had complete self-control when it came to her emotions.

And this made her a perfect specimen for observation.

Because Sherlock would never admit to anyone the fact that he did not have this same amount of self-control over his emotions. He'd been able to fake it, when all he felt were the simple, easily suppressed emotions like irritation, anger, pride, and contentment. He'd done that perfectly for so long when he was alone. But he wasn't alone anymore, and he was starting to feel emotions much more strongly. Josephine Conners had felt – strongly and completely and normally – from the time she was born, and she'd learned to control those emotions very well. Sherlock, on the other hand, had begun suppressing his emotions at the ripe young age of eight, and whenever he felt something particularly strongly, had the self-control of an eight year old. And that was being optimistic. (Most of the time, if he was being honest, his emotional self-control was more along the lines of a four-year-old.)

Hence his inability to keep himself from sticking his foot up his arse on regular occasions. That Christmas with Molly – when he'd felt such frustration and longing for The Woman, and had not been able to control his mouth enough to stop deducing the daylights out of everyone in the room. And when he realized that Molly had dressed up for him – the present was for him – he'd immediately felt such shock and guilt and even embarrassment for her, that he apologized, kissed her, and fled the room with a present from The Woman to console him and take his mind off of things.

And when he returned and surprised John at the restaurant – he was so relieved, so excited to see his friend again, he hadn't foreseen that his friend might not feel the same way. He had not been able to control his feelings enough to consider that John might be a bit put off that he'd faked his death and hadn't bothered to let him in on the secret.

And then, when he knew Molly was engaged, when he knew she wouldn't help him 'solve crimes' again, even though she really had done a respectable job, and he felt the weight of John's engagement and now Molly's and he might have to be alone again and that was too heavy, but he was also happy for them because he loved them and it was just overwhelming – he'd kissed her again, and said that she deserved happiness, because she did. But the strange war of resigned happiness and sadness that pulled in his chest had not allowed him to stop and consider that kissing an engaged Molly Hooper was not the best plan of action or expression of his feelings, given her track record with him.

And at John's wedding – he had made people cry with his speech and had actually pirouetted in front of that bridesmaid. Jeanette? Janice? Something like that. He'd been happy, and had shown it. In his own, highly-functioning sociopathic way.

And so Sherlock decided that he must control these emotions, since they weren't just disappearing. He'd learned about love from watching the Conners, and Josephine in particular would be an excellent specimen to continue learning from. Ian was often absent and Sarah was still a child, so they were out. Since he decidedly disliked Josephine, and this would prevent him from becoming involved with her, she appeared to be the perfect person to observe and learn from.

And so he watched, and learned.

Sherlock was thrilled when Lucy died mid-August. He'd come with John to see Sarah about some formulas left behind by a dying mathematics professor, and the door was unlocked. They walked in, and Josephine was sitting with Sarah on the couch, her arms wrapped around her little sister's shaking form. Sarah was curled into her sister, and sobbing quietly, with great shaky breaths and unpleasant sniffles.

Josephine hated Lucy. Sarah loved Lucy. Josephine loves Sarah.

Opening File: Emotions

Folder: Happiness

Sub-file: Relief

Specifically: Feeling happiness about something others are sad about

Application to self: Murders, crimes...everything

Cataloging reactions:

Sherlock watched Josephine carefully. He knew she would be relieved, if not happy, that Lucy was gone. Her own eyes were shiny with tears, not for Lucy – for Sarah's sadness? – and she had wrapped Sarah Jane in a quilt. She was rubbing small circles on her sister's back – comforting through touch – and murmuring, half-whispering, half-singing a breathy lullaby – I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always – comforting through familiar words or song – and her words were a warm blanket, but her normally smiling eyes glared daggers at Sherlock and John as they let themselves in.

Her voice stayed warm and low as she greeted them. "Hullo. As you can see, we're having a bit of a day. You can come back another time." She smiled tightly, but her eyes were still full of warning.

Sherlock stayed, staring for a moment, cataloging a few last pieces of information on Josephine's brilliant ability to mask her joy that the blasted cat was gone – before nodding and adding, "Sorry for your loss. We'll return at a better time."

John looked shocked at Sherlock's words. "Loss?"

"Lucy died," Sherlock muttered under his breath. Noticing his look of confusion, he added "Lucy was a cat."

John closed his mouth and nodded to the two girls - "Right, then. Sorry for your loss." - before pulling Sherlock out of the room.

Sherlock returned a few days later, with the formulas in hand. John was assisting Mary today, and Sherlock had waited long enough for Sarah's assistance. Again, the door was unlocked, and he let himself in. Sarah Jane was no longer crying, but her face was pulled downwards in a sort of perpetual frown as she sat at the kitchen table, absentmindedly fiddling with a bit of toast.

"Ms. Conners. A distraction," he announced, placing the papers carefully in front of her.

Josephine popped her head around the corner, freshly showered and dressed, combing her hair. "Hullo, Sherlock. What did you bring Sarah today?" She asked carefully, padding over to look at the papers herself.

"Math formulas. A maths professor was found dead – of natural causes -" he added when Josephine gave him a look over Sarah Jane's head. " – but his offspring believe he left something valuable behind, and they believe the answer lies in these formulas. Boring case, really, but…" he allowed his voice to trail off as Sarah's eyes worked over the paper carefully, taking in all of the numbers and letters and symbols.

"Jo - " she started to ask, but her sister had already brought her a pad of paper and a pencil.

"Thanks." She smiled up at Jo and Sherlock, and then her face fell into content concentration.

Sherlock walked around the flat as he was waiting, deducing from the crumbs on the counter and the bulging bin next to it that Jo had tried and failed yet another recipe the previous night. His eyes landed on a new photo frame on a bookshelf near the telly. It was one of those double frames, and on one side was a picture of the deceased cat, comfortable in Sarah's arms. Josephine was in the background, eyeing the cat with an awkward smile on her face. On the other side was a poem, "She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways", by William Wordsworth.

He read it once, and gave a short bark of laughter. He read it again, and started chuckling. "Clever," he admitted. The poem managed to convey Sarah's love and Jo's hatred for the cat in equal measure.

Sarah was still concentrating, but Jo had noticed his laughter. When she saw what he was laughing at, she couldn't help smiling herself. "Picked that one out myself. I have to admit…I've been saving it for this day. Sarah knows that it's about both of us…but…she likes it too."

And then she was next to him, with her hand lightly on his arm, removing it before he could shrug it off. Her eyes were smiling gently at him. "Thank you," she whispered.

Sherlock took a step back, frowning. "For…?"

"For distracting Sarah Jane. She's been sad, and…" she gestured to Sarah, who was smiling now and rubbing the end of her turned-up nose as she continued working, "this helps. So thank you."

He stared coolly at Josephine. "You're welcome." He paused, looking back towards Sarah again. "Text me when she's done."

And he was out the door, but not before Josephine started singing cheerfully about loving someone until her dying day.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and effectively deleted that particular memory, but held on to one piece of information to store away – that in the case of Josephine Conners, oftentimes, love – and its expression - was a song.

So, there it is! You'll get another chapter today, too, because I live in the Midwest and they've cancelled school again today because of the wind chill so I don't have to work today. I'm really enjoying making pizza dough and doing laundry and reading fantastic Sherlock fanfiction as I start my weekend out right. ;D

The next chapter is a bit more angsty and features Sherlock as a child. Turns out, he's so good at deleting useless or painful information from his mind palace that he's forgotten he's already connected to the Conners...

Cheers!