Thirty-Six Questions to Fall in Love

Never Too Personal

Sherlock flew into the kitchen, so abruptly that he almost made John drop his coffee. The tail of his night-robe swung behind him as he stopped in the doorway. His eyes were wild, his hair a complete mess.

John, startled, stared at him for a few moments. "Jesus, Sherlock, what's going on?"

Sherlock leaned against the doorframe, panting from running around the house in his panicked state. "John," he breathed, "We haven't worked on the experiment in the last week."

John gaped at him, setting his mug of coffee down on the table. "That's what this is about?"

"Of course, John," Sherlock said. "Obviously."

He sat down at the table, catching his breath. John sighed, half-irritated, and sat down across from him. "And that's such a problem because...?"

"All our progress may have been lost," Sherlock said hurriedly. "We may have to start over."

"Progress?" John asked. "I thought we were trying to prove the article wrong."

Sherlock paused. "Well... yes. We have to prove it to be something."

John stood up, getting another mug from the cupboard. "Coffee?" he offered.

Sherlock set his jaw. "No."

John put the mug back.

"When did ou last cry in front of another person and when did you last cry by yourself?" Sherlock asked hurriedly.

"Oh, we're getting really personal now, are we?" John asked almost defensively, and Sherlock sat back in his seat.

"This experiment is never too personal, John," Sherlock replied, to which John crossed his arms across his chest.

"That's only because I'm the only person to laugh at," he fired back. He wasn't even annoyed at this fact, but really he was just irritated at Sherlock scaring him just to ask him another few of those thirty-six questions.

"I guess I'll go first, then," Sherlock said, not wanting to listen to him. "The last time I cried in front of someone else was when I was a child. Mycroft hit me, and I fell, and he laughed."

John sat back down, having a hard time imagining Sherlock crying. "And the last time you cried alone?"

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Don't laugh."

"I'm not promising anything," John smirked. "I might."

Sherlock sighed. "Do you remember the case with the little girl?"

He was referring to a crime scene they attended just a few weeks ago. Everyone in a particular family had been murdered during a burglary except for a little girl, who had been sleeping in the basement and went unnoticed. When they arrived at the crime scene, she had been crying, hugging a blanket and a teddy bear as one of the police talked to her. The memory jabbed at John's stomach, and he nodded. "Yeah, I remember."

"Well, that one somehow hit me," Sherlock admitted. "I felt... sorry. She looked so small, and so fragile, and it made me think about all the children out there who will never get their innocence back. All those children who might be cursed and eventually will end up like me." He took an unconfident breath before adding, "I was composed that day, but when we came home late that night, I locked myself in my room and I..." He trailed off, looking down at the table.

John sipped his coffee to hide a soft, sympathetic smile. "You cried."

Sherlock clicked his tongue, forgetting to maintain eye contact. "Yeah," he said slowly. "I cried."

John pursed his lips, looking down at the table, too. "That's..." He paused to clear his throat. "That's sweet."

"Well, enough about that," Sherlock said suddenly, changing the subject as quickly as he possibly could. "What about you?"

John took a moment to think, sitting back and looking up at the ceiling. "I think the last time I cried in front of someone was when I had a nightmare about Afghanistan and you came into my room when you heard me screaming."

"Oh, yeah," Sherlock replied, staring off into space as he remembered that. They met each other's eyes again, almost like they remembered the eye contact rule at the exact same time.

"The last time I cried on my own was also because of a nightmare," John continued. "That was before I met you, though. I was living on my own in a tiny room and had no idea that things would get better so quickly."

Sherlock showed a small smile. "But they did."

John nodded. "They did."

Sherlock passed John his phone, the link already opened on the screen even though he didn't need it himself. "You can read the next one," he offered. "Makes it more interesting."

John took the phone and scrolled down to the next question. "Tell your partner something that you like about them already," he read. Sherlock twined his hands together in thought.

"You've never called me any names," he said. "I know I've said this before, but you're a kind man, John. You're something that I don't even deserve. Yet here you are."

John smiled sheepishly, taking another sip of his coffee and thinking about his next answer. "Thank you," he replied, "You make life... seem like it's worth living. And what I mean by that is that you don't see the world as this simple, predictable, linear thing. It's exciting, it's scary, it's funny, every day is a new adventure and it's anything but simple. What I like about you already, is that you make life so much better."

Sherlock smiled. "Thank you, John."