Sherlock awkwardly tried to spark John's passion. And hurt him so much that John left. However, coming to terms with loss isn't about Sherlock.
https://www.wattpad.com/story/341514125-fanfics-about-sherlock-bbchttps://archiveofourown.org/works/47086126Ajax, thanks for the preliminary reading.
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Martha Louise Hudson, née Sissons, was always glad that she didn't have children.
But fate loves to joke, and she got an adult son-klutz in her old age. And there were two grown-up sons after a few years. And although the second was not a klutz, he brought no fewer problems.
Mrs. Hudson smiled. Still, John's appearance was a stroke of luck. She was so happy when Sherlock brought a neighbor — just like those mothers who are delighted when an overly party-loving son brings a staid reasonable girl to a family Sunday dinner.
Sherlock could consider himself insensitive and without carnal desires as much as he wanted, but, as the wall and fireplace are witnesses, Sherlock was the embodiment of passion. The impassible will not shoot at the wall and gouge the mantel with a knife when something goes wrong, and he needs to pull himself together.
Also, Sherlock is not as genius as he imagines himself to be. [If he was any good as a detective, I wouldn't need a new mantel so often,] Mrs. Hudson thought.
She knew little about Sherlock's childhood, but what she did was enough to question his parents' sanity. At first, they kept their sons in some solitary house, where there were no other children in the neighborhood and it was impossible to make friends, and then they immediately put the boys in school... It is not surprising that both Holmes brothers are slightly crazy and catastrophically unable to communicate with people. Mycroft, although he considers himself a great politician and connoisseur of souls, he has no friends, no girls either. Even if he is impotent or asexual, it doesn't interfere with making friends and having fun.
Interfering in other people's love affairs is the worst decision. But a person who spoils her walls and fireplace, steals jam and flour from her, and expects dinner from her, cannot be a stranger. And the bustle of builders who will make premature repairs was not encouraging.
Mrs. Hudson went up to Sherlock's apartment. He looked out the window. And he looked like a lost puppy.
"What exactly did you say to John, stupid boy?"
However, before Sherlock answered, his phone let out an orgasmic female moan.
"Oh," said Mrs. Hudson, "you decided to change direction. But the end station didn't accept?"
Sherlock, as always, froze, trying to understand the metaphor. And growled:
"No. The woman!"
"Who is she?"
Sherlock looked at Mrs. Hudson with annoyance.
"You know perfectly well who this is!"
"No, dear. You always talk "The woman" about Irene Adler, you don't even mention her name. "The woman is... Who is she?"
"None," Sherlock grinned squeamishly. "She caters to the whims of the pathetic and takes her clothes off to make an impression. She doesn't stop boring me and doesn't create reasons to think. It isn't sexy."
"But why do you let her hope?"
"Hope is for fools," Sherlock replied arrogantly.
"Sherlock!"
He snorted and defiantly walked from the window to the sofa, and collapsed on it. Mrs. Hudson sat down in an armchair.
"You saved her life twice! Or even more."
"One day I'll hang her around Mycroft's neck. The woman and my brother are too perfect suited for each other. They cannot stay in the same room for over two seconds. But it won't be easy for them to scatter a long distance. And as long as Mycroft is busy with the woman, he won't be able to interfere with me. The good tool. For the most important occasion."
"Oi!" Mrs. Hudson was indignant and confused. However, communication with Sherlock tempered nerves well, and Mrs. Hudson quickly gathered her thoughts: "You are the best manipulator in the world. You manage even your brother. Why can't you establish a normal interaction with John?"
Sherlock sat up and buried his face in his palms. Mrs. Hudson didn't back down.
"Sherlock?"
"I am not fit to form relationships. I analyze people. I find points of influence. But if I start to analyze John, it immediately becomes obvious that such a ridiculous man like me is not worthy of his friendship, warmth and constancy."
"Sherlock, God... John chose you! Do you really think that he is so stupid that he does not immediately see what you are? But he chose you for who you are."
Sherlock looked at Mrs. Hudson with disbelief and hope, even with his mouth slightly open. Mrs. Hudson smiled and said:
"If a girl agrees to a date, she waits for a fun movie, a delicious dinner and sexual satisfaction for herself. But Sarah got a kidnapping, a death threat, a fight with the mob and digging through a pile of books. If the head of a hospital department hires a doctor, she expects him to work and keep safe of the patients. John sleeps at work. But Sarah doesn't fire John, she doesn't run away screaming curses after a terrible date. Sarah lets John sleep over at her apartment after you had a fight with him and rearranges doctors' work shifts so that John can take part in your investigations. Friends do for John what they won't do for anyone else in the world."
"I checked all his friends!" Sherlock yelled back in a brokenly whispered, breathless cry. His lips trembled, his fingers too, and there were tears in his eyes. "I checked the friends of his friends! I even asked Mycroft to check them all!"
"You and Mycroft are spoiled rich kids," Mrs. Hudson said calmly and toughly. "You both never needed to look for a job. Be quiet!" She cut off Sherlock's attempt to protest. "Even wandering through the slums, you always knew that at any second you could get good food, a warm room, clean bedding and fashionable clothes. Your brother was only worried about how high he would climb the corporate ladder but he never had to be afraid of being stuck on a penny allowance in a stinking municipal house, because a decent job was waiting for him from birth, and he would be well off even without a career!"
Sherlock blinked in puzzlement. Mrs. Hudson chuckled.
"John quit but didn't ask Sarah to send him a letter of recommendation on behalf of the hospital. And I heard he didn't take a penny from his bank account."
"He's gone to someone who can find him a job", Sherlock realized. "And this person's word means more than a letter from a London hospital." He jumped up. "Former colleagues from the field hospital, Mrs. Hudson! Patients. All those whom John saved their lives and their relatives. Comments on his blog! Which of them is associated with employment in medical institutions?"
"Don't limit yourself to the last weeks," said Mrs. Hudson. "It could have been a message or two in the past, on days when you behaved especially nasty. See if anyone offered John help."
Ashamed Sherlock is a unique sight, like that comet that appears once in a thousand years. And Mrs. Hudson admired that with pleasure.
"Think, young man! Think hard. Finding a loss is only half the battle. You have to decide what you will say to John to make him want to come back. And don't forget that there's a vacancy to be added to the return."
Sherlock blinked his eyes again in confusion. His genius turned into its complete opposite in everyday affairs.
"You head needs not only to play riddles and eat!" Mrs. Hudson instructively and triumphantly said and proudly left the room.
"Though, I'll have to call the home improvement company and put in a lot of effort to get Mycroft to pay the bill", she thought. "But it's worth it."
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