A/N This second bit is, unfortunately, one of those that I'm not quite as happy with, and a very short one, as well. Oh, well, maybe you guys'll like it. Thanks a ton for the favorites, reviews, and alerts!

Thanks to Pyreflies Painter, Natalie Nallareet, and Sylvia Griffin3

Disclaimer I don't own Sherlock or any associated characters, events, etc.

II. Love

Love, to the best of people—and by best, Sherlock clarifies, he means clearest, cleverest—simply doesn't exist. It's nothing beyond a mirage that changes people into killers, a bare concept, as source-less a belief as the "God" that makes its way into so many cultures and religions. Neither of these things have evidence of their reality. What people can't comprehend is that the power they so easily attribute to 'greater spirits' is truly contained in them. They're the ones to fight huge wars, to begin great revolutions, to reveal gargantuan new theories and inventions that will forever change the fate of the human race. Working for a blind cause does nothing. It's not rewarded, nor is it justified. All it does is leave scars far bigger than they would have been had the inflictors gouged them solely with their "own" resources.

John believes in God, and he believes in love, too.

Sherlock's always known this, ever since the day the two of them met. It's not hard to figure out. John doesn't wear a crucifix or even go to church, but his devotion is still there, just as a casual thing, occasionally tossed into everyday conversation like pepper into soup—not outstanding, but still doing its job to alter the flavor. Sherlock ignores it for the most part, might even have let one or two of the expressions slip into his own speech.

It's much harder to shake off when John talks about love.

For him, it's as real as concrete or steel or bone. So matter-of-fact. He loves his sister, comments on how much Lestrade loves his wife, insists that, surely, Mycroft loves Sherlock… though he never mentions it, the detective's sure that he wonders whether or not Sarah loves him. As if it matters. As if a thing about the physical world would be altered by such knowledge. John loves the world, really, loves life, simply because he has no reason not to.

Sherlock's always waiting for John to mention something else that he loves.

But even his brilliant mind can't quite figure out what it is.