Work Text:
Guilt is an emotion that occurs when a person believes that they have violated a moral standard that they believe in.
Normally, Sherlock Holmes does not have a moral standard they believe in.
Normally.
“There’s much I should say to you.” Sherlock looked Marcus in the eyes, no matter how much he wanted to look away how much he wanted to fiddle with his hands or his phone. This was important, and he didn’t need Joan to tell him that.
This was astronomically important. He wanted to tell the detective everything, to tell him that sometimes when he was around he could think of anything but him. That everything that was happening had made him feel something he hasn’t felt since he was a kid and he broke his mother’s favorite vase.
He was feeling guilt.
“I hate what happened to you, and whatever role I played in it.”
Even when he broke his mother’s vase he never said he was sorry. He could count on one hand how many times he has apologized in his life, and if he ever had to extend one to anyone it would be Detective Bell.
Sherlock wanted to show him that he cared.
“Holmes, I don’t want a favor from you.”
That’s when he knew that what he had done was unfixable.
“I’d rather not see you around here.”
No matter how much he denied having one or that the emotion of love is stored in an organ that creates blood, Sherlock could feel his heart breaking. It felt so similar to when Moriarty showed her true self, but this was different.
It was different because it was his fault this had happened, it was his fault that Marcus might lose his job over him.
The guilt didn’t stop, even though he had hoped it would. If anything, it just got worse.