Sherlock's Second Vow [FINISHED]

Chapter 21: In which our baby learns more about love

So um hi I finally decided to update.

And y'know how I usually add prayers and all for people during the pandemic? Weeelll today my dad came down with a rather high fever, and we're all very nervous, so if anyone wanted to pray for him that would be much appreciated.

Anyway, when I'm stressed writing usually helps me relaxed, and luckily Avery was available to help me with this, so we wrote a nice, happy little chapter for you today.

Seriously, though, it is little. It's pretty short. Sorry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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21

The door to the meeting room flew open and Mrs. Hudson marched inside. "WILLIAM SHERLOCK SCOTT HOLMES."

"What is it now?" Sherlock said tiredly.

"Fingernails! In the bloody microwave! Do you have any idea the smell that comes out of that flat? I found some poor man's liver in the fridge, liver! And the right state you leave the place in! I am NOT your bloody housekeeper, and if you don't throw out all of the organs and weird stuff in there, I will do it myself. Am I understood?"

"So you're saying you will do the housekeeping. Because I obviously can't leave." He brushed the photo in his pocket.

"I will come here and dump them on your coat."

"They won't let you in the ward, Mrs. Hudson. If you wouldn't mind sparing my coat, the neighbors have a compost bin."

Mrs. Hudson sighed. "When you get back, no more body parts in the flat."

There was a pause.

"If that's all you came to discuss then I guess it's settled."

"I came to catch up with you too, of course. They're both very excited for you to come home."

"And you?"

"I am too, so long as you keep the body parts out of the flat."

"Alright, alright." Maybe.

Mrs. Hudson smiled. "On a lighter note, Rosie tried to smuggle in some cake, but they threw it away before I came in. 8 years old and smarter than most adults. "

He half-smiled. "She has a good father. She'll turn out alright."

"She has you to thank for that as well."

He shrugged. "She could have figured most of it out in her own time."

"Yes but think of how much better it could have been if you'd had someone other than Mycroft to help you."

He did think about that. A lot more since Rosie's talents became evident. It would have been nice to have someone like him, someone who understood. It would have been nice to have a father as caring and accepting as John.

Mrs. Hudson continued. "If it hadn't been for you, she'd still think she was a freak."

His train of thought was broken, and he let it go. Thinking about that always made him feel emptier, anyway. "She is," he said. "We are. You know this."

"Sherlock Holmes, you are not a freak and neither is she. If you honestly believe that, next time she's here, you tell her yourself that she's a freak."

"A freak is by definition an abnormality."

Merriam Webster, freak. Noun:

one that is markedly unusual or abnormal:

"But the word is used so negatively."

"The connotation doesn't change the definition."

"She used to think that, but she's getting better. If you tell her she's a freak it'll break John's heart."

"I wouldn't do that. I would never hurt them."

"And so what if you are a freak?" Mrs. Hudson continued her tirade, "Maybe you are by definition, but that just means that you're special. You're talented, the both of you. Now stop all the 'woe is me.'"

He snorted. Special. There's a word with a negative connotation.

Sherlock looked pointedly at the nurse. "Time should be about up?"

"Are you sure?" Jay asked. "You still have about ten minutes."

Mrs. Hudson met his gaze. "Sherlock. I came here to check on you, not to fight with you. Tell me honestly, how are you doing?"

"Fine," he said through gritted teeth, and made himself relax. "Better. I'm doing better." And he was, he thought.

An unexpected question crossed his mind. He was here, with Mrs. Hudson. She was trustworthy, she was kind, and most of all she was used to him. She was the best of anyone to ask.

Sherlock swallowed. "Could you explain something to me?"

"I can try."

"What exactly is... love?"

"Ah," she chuckled. "Well... a lot of things. Like you would do anything for them, almost anything, anyway. Like you want to be close to them, and connected to them. You want them to feel the same way about you."

"Could you be more precise? I... feel differently about John than Rosie, and differently about Rosie than you."

"There are different kinds of love. You probably love Rosie like a parent to a child. But you love John differently."

"What do you mean? What are the kinds? How do you tell them apart?"

The Greek gave them names, philo or something, a couple more--"

He knew this, he realized. He had learned them, and stored them, although he'd blocked the reason why. He guessed it had taken up too much room in his head, or it had been distracting. "You mean Agape, Eros, Philia, Philautia, Storge, Pragma, Ludus, Mania."

She looked surprised. "Yes, that's it."

Sherlock was getting impatient. "Yes but what do they feel like? Are they all very different from each other?"

"It's hard to tell the difference sometimes. Some people don't know if they love someone like a friend, or a romantic partner. The only one who can figure out how you feel is you."

How did he feel about Rosie? Hudders' description seemed to fit-- kind of a mentoring relationship.

How did he feel about John? That was... complicated. His mind shied away from thinking about it.

"Is it like... this sounds stupid, but is it like an illusion of warmth in your chest?"

Mrs. Hudson smiled. "If that's what you want to call it, but it is real. Feelings are part of your brain."

Another chemical reaction, inconveniently messing with his head. One he couldn't detox from. But maybe they weren't so bad as he had been told.

For instance, here was Mrs. Hudson, who had come to see him. And she'd listened to him, and answered his questions as best she could without laughing, or thinking ill of him. And that made him feel warm inside too, and that felt good.

"Mrs. Hudson?"

"Sherlock."

"I think I love you."

Her face broke into her biggest smile yet, and she reached to pull him into a hug. He was startled, but he let her. Maybe he was getting a little better at this 'hugging' thing.

She chuckled softly into his shoulder. "I love you too, Sherlock."

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In case anyone's curious:

Agape — Unconditional Love. ...

Eros — Romantic Love. ...

Philia — Affectionate Love. ...

Philautia — Self-love. ...

Storge — Familiar Love. ...

Pragma — Enduring Love. ...

Ludus — Playful Love. ...

Mania — Obsessive Love.