Sherlock's Second Vow [FINISHED]

Chapter 25: Soul-to-soul

My dad is back from the hospital! They have no idea what's wrong with him but antibiotics seem to be working and he can eat and drink now so they sent him home. His fever is down and he came and talked to us at dinner.

The song in this chapter is called Solitaire by The Carpenters, and I copied the definitions of love verbatim from Wellandgood.com because I am a lazy dumdum.

This one's for you especially, Avery. Miss you, love you.

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25

Rosie and John didn't talk much on the drive back, it was getting late and she was tired. He could see through the mirror that she had leaned her head on the window and closed her eyes.

But it was by no means silent. Light rain pattered on the windshield, the wipers squeaked back and forth, and there was of course the radio. It was playing an older song, and usually John wouldn't have paid much attention except a line caught his attention by chance.

There was a man, a lonely man, the singer began,

Who lost his love through his indifference

A heart that cared, that went unchecked, until it died in his silence.

And solitaire's the only game in town

And every road that takes him, takes him down

And by himself, it's easy to pretend

He'll never love again...

The words sounded familiar. John hadn't heard this song before, but it reminded him of something. Someone. Either Sherlock or himself, he couldn't tell. Maybe both of them.

And keeping to himself he plays the game

Without that love it always ends the same

While life goes on around him everywhere

He's playing solitaire...

A little hope, goes up in smoke

Just how it goes, goes without saying

There was a man, a lonely man

Who would command the hand he's playing

And solitaire's the only game in town...

When Rosie was safely in bed and asleep, John slipped outside to take the short walk to the cemetery, locking the door behind him. The night was quiet, since he lived in the calmer, residential part of London, in the place he and Mary had chosen when they found out she was pregnant.

Mary. He hadn't been to see her in a while, everything had been happening, and John had been tired.

He entered the gates of the cemetery, thinking this must look a lot like some horror film and not caring. The dark didn't feel oppressive, or concealing, and he wasn't nervous, exactly. It was a quiet, moonlit place that, although the wind rattled the leaves and his footsteps crunched in the gravel, seemed utterly silent. A place for thinking.

He found the angel quickly-- he could have found Mary's grave blindfolded. The extended porcelain-white hand was empty, and he fitted his own, larger one inside it. The rose from before was long gone.

John looked at his feet, then up at the angel."What am I going to do?"

The angel sat, cold and still as ever, though her hand was warming from his. John could almost fool himself into thinking her eyes looked teasing, as Mary's so often had.

"I'm serious. What in bloody hell am I going to do?"

The thing was... well, he didn't know, exactly, not consciously. He felt for Sherlock differently than he'd felt for any of his other friends, but not in a romantic way at all. Was there even a name for that? Was he confused? Was this somehow bad? He still loved Mary, loved her with all of his heart. So he poured out his worries at her feet.

***

What was this love? What was this love? There was a word he was looking for....

Philia.

Philia.

Sherlock made sure to store the word in his mind palace.

***

John flipped open his computer. Mrs. Hudson had mentioned a crap ton of fancy Greek words. Might as well try and look some of them up.

Eros is passion, lust, pleasure-- yeah, no, definitely not that one.

Ludus is infatuation -- no.

Philia is characterized by intimacy, knowing, and soul-to-soul bonds. John frowned in thought, then read on. It's encouraging, kind, and authentic; the stuff from which great friendship is made, regardless of whether it's with a platonic best friend or a romantic partner. This love is also based in goodwill, or wanting what's best for the other person. Philia is a connection akin to that of soul mates; it's one part destiny, another part choice.

Philia. He liked that. He liked that a lot.