The Science of Human Interaction [1/1]
Human relationships, to Sherlock, were some sort of Science. Not just the sociological aspects you could read about in books or look up on the internet, no, every seemingly unimportant thing about it. Like first impressions nobody ever really thought about, or why you just liked or disliked people without ever really stopping to think about why exactly you did so.
Well so he may have spent more time thinking about that topic than anyone would ever give him credit for. Didn’t mean that he was interested in participating in any of these rituals like ‘relationships’ that all of those mundane human beings liked to waste their time on.
Sherlock Holmes had better things to do than going on dates or watching movies he didn’t care about just to be with someone. So when John announced that he was going out with Sarah, his first reaction was to offer his help and then arrange something more useful – like spying on one of the suspects.
John wasn’t too pleased when he found out to say the least, but Sherlock just couldn’t bring himself to understand why. He was helping him not wasting his life. A thank you would have been more fitting if you asked him. But come to think of it, John wasn’t too happy when he told him that either.
*
That ‘thing’ with Sarah didn’t last very long. Sherlock could have told John that from the very beginning, but who was giving a rat’s arse about his opinion in those matters? John for his part didn’t, which was why he ended up sulking and apparently wondering what mistakes he made in his relationship.
“John, I was asking you to pass me my phone.” That was, for the third time in a row.
“Get it by yourself I’m not your bloody servant.” came the angry response in an instant. Sherlock didn’t get what that was all about. Well of course he understood the part where all this was about Sarah, he just didn’t know why John minded so much. He didn’t need that woman. They didn’t need that woman.
Getting entangled in any kind of romantic relationship with another person lead to spending important time on unimportant things, and –which was even worse- moving in with said person.
It was really important to get John to stay. John was important, special really. Because while everyone who knew Sherlock, really knew him, wanted to get as far away from him as possible, John had stayed. He had opened the fridge and found a severed head in it. One morning he had entered the kitchen to find all of his precious tea cups filled with suspicious coloured fluids. But still he had stayed.
So when Sarah decided that she couldn’t bear with John’s weird flatmate anymore and John still didn’t leave him, Sherlock was, well to be honest he didn’t really know what he was, because glad just didn’t cover it well enough. And Sherlock knew about everything that concerned himself or his job for a matter of fact – at least that’s what he had always told himself.
*
“Are you coming John? Lestrade called, he needs us to look into his latest case. Took him rather long this time, don’t you think?” He was almost out of the door in one dramatic swoosh of grey coat and scarf when the nuzzled reply came out of one of their armchairs.
Sherlock had to take a few steps back into the room to understand any of it.
“I said I don’t feel like chasing the bad guys tonight.”
“I’m sure it’s going to be dangerous.” This statement felt almost like a reflex by now.
“Yeah, but I don’t really feel like dangerous tonight. I feel like bad TV and lots of pizza and beer.”
“Why?” and that was really all Sherlock could come up with. Sure John seemed to be rather bothered by his break up with Sarah but then again, the mention of any kind of danger involved usually got him to do anything.
“Why? Did you really just ask me why I didn’t want to go out to look at a body with you tonight?”
“You normally do.”
“Yeah but normally I don’t get dumped by my Girlfriend because of the lunatic I happen to live with!”
“I don’t get why that would interfere with our work.”
“You don’t see why- you got to be kidding me! You know what? I should have agreed when she offered me to move in with her and break contact with you. But why am I even talking to you?”
John seemed to be angry, like Sherlock had insulted or disappointed him – again. And Sherlock didn’t care, not really. He never did, to him everything was divided in two parts success and failure and both of them were equally acceptable. Except that somehow, this time, he did – care that was. But the case was more important, everything was more important than mundane things like arguments and disappointments. He didn’t care to admit that he didn’t believe in any of that himself.
He still left though. But he was lacking his usual excitement.
*
It didn’t even take him half of the night to solve the case and after getting hold of the murderer he left the police to deal with the boring part of the job. He hailed a cab and settled in the back of the car, alone. And it wasn’t even the first time that he noticed the alone part. He noticed when he arrived at the crime scene and Donovan asked if he finally managed to scare off the freak-in-training, he noticed when he kneeled down beside the body, when he chased through dark streets, when he got hold of the suspect and when he was walking away from everyone, the adrenaline still pumping in his blood.
Watching the flashing lights of his city pass by in front of the window his thoughts returned to the science that were human relationships and anthropology in general, he felt so hideously ordinary all of a sudden.
*
Returning home he found a note from John telling him that he was at his sister’s place. Sherlock wasn’t surprised. He was used to John being impulsive and dramatic by now. But knowing about something beforehand didn’t do anything about him feeling disappointed. And there was no use in denying it. Sherlock just grabbed the book about crimes of the 19th century he bought a few days ago and started reading. Thinking about John confused him and he didn’t like being confused and books were supposed to help with things like that, but for Sherlock nothing ever worked as it was supposed to do. So he tossed the book into one corner of the sitting room, dropped into John’s armchair, took out his phone and started to type.
You never visit your sister.
SH
It took some time and if it would have been anyone but John he would have stopped waiting but after a while his phone beeped. Because John never really ignored him.
Sherlock? Where did that even come from? Do you know what time it is?!
JW
I’m just stating the facts and of course I do.
SH
This time it didn’t take so long.
I hope you’re in mortal danger or something because you sure will be when you tell me you just woke me up because you wanted to ‘chat’.
JW
Don’t be ridiculous I’m never wasting my time on small talk.
SH
Why are you texting me then?
JW
Well and wasn’t that just the big question? Why did he feel like wasting his precious time on all those mundane things all of a sudden? Why did it matter if he was alone at night or with John one floor above him - sleeping, while Sherlock was experimenting or reading in their parlour?
I’m sorry.
SH
Some minutes passed. But then another text message arrived.
Thank you.
JW
I’ll be back tomorrow you know?
JW
Sherlock had solved this problem.
End
