mindless faith - (pseudo) sherlock holmes/magnus martinsson
- based on my flight of fancy that took place earlier tonight
Being completely and utterly alone is so much worse than having those few people (that one person) he called friends (a friend).
For so long, Sherlock had believed that being alone was a necessary component of his line of work. Yes, occasional fraternization with the law was needed to procure a certain bit of evidence or intelligence, but otherwise, he worked quite well on his own. Then, John Watson fell into his life.
Nearly every preconception he’d held about having someone else tagging along on his jaunts was summarily turned on its head.
He finds himself almost longing for that occasional moment of camaraderie after a particularly successful case when they could just look at each other and breathe out a laugh of relief. But that isn’t to be. Not now.
To protect those few he knows are loyal, he needs to disappear. And disappear he does.