perception of the mind (sh adaptation)

Thirty • His (Dubious) Priorities

"Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see a shadow."
-Hellen Keller, 1880-1968

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The detective never took to admitting anything.

He'd always find more comfort within himself, to keep his thoughts to himself instead of ruining the few nice things he had. As a child, he'd constantly hear his teachers and peers spread rumours about how the universe would forever be against the human race for hurting mother nature. How if he were to say anything out loud, the universe would do anything within its power to prevent whatever it is he wants to happen.

Sherlock never believed it.

Just like how he never listened to his teachers telling him that 'twelve year olds should be playing football', and shouldn't be interested in attempting to solve the unfortunate death of a person; and how he'd never get far in life if he didn't change his awkward, closed ways.

But Sherlock survived.

And until two years ago, when he first met his best friend and lover, he realised that surviving was the most dreadful thing he could have done. It was once he made friends and opened up more that he found himself living - enjoying what he did without the tip of a needle piercing his arms.

"Is it often that they do?"

"Kill themselves?" John frowned.

"Yep." She nodded, glancing at her fiance.

"Most likely.." he paused. "Yeah."

But as Sherlock shifted from surviving to living, he also realised that his primary teachers may have been right. The universe was a villain he could never overthrow; as if it's sole purpose was to take everything he had away from him. Perhaps that was why he was interested in the despondency of other's lives - to distract him from his own, because Sherlock didn't want the universe to take Ophelia away from him.

"Hm," Rose nodded, glancing around the hall.

John noticed her. "Something the matter?"

"No, I just.." she smiled. "It's strange."

"The stories, or how open Sherlock's being right now?"

She frowned, following his gaze to the couple. And as green as grass, John was right, Sherlock and Ophelia were having a casual conversation in the middle of the crowd. As if no one were watching them. "Erm, well that too... I suppose."

"Because that's strange."

"Really strange." Rose's eyes flickered back to John. "But I meant like, how.. We've all come together. Your friend observes real dead bodies for a living, his girlfriend's dad was murdered over a complete misconception, and you've literally been to war. Now we're all at this lame, make-do of an alumni reunion, undercover to look for a murderer disguised as a doctor."

"Yeah, it's.. kind of like a passage of entry to the group now." He nodded, entirely unfocused. "Sherlock making jokes right now is more odd to me though."

She giggled. "I don't get what you all see in that man, but trust me, it's definitely not cold."

"You don't see it?"

"No, of course I don't."

"Damn."

"Once you all actually see what cold is, you'll know that this guy is just someone who wants to look like a really.. Cool detective."

John shrugged. "He does that too."

They shared a laugh.

The party was filled with old friends who once knew each other like the back of their own hand. They shared stories about their children, why they didn't pursue the career they wanted to when they were young. Among them was another old friend. He was so known amongst his former peers that everyone wanted a word with him; a piece of advice on how he got so successful.