Chapter Text
Somewhere along the line “she’s not my friend” had taken on a new meaning.
Sherlock took pride in the fact that she did not need other people. Of course there were people in her life who she did not mind being around. People who served a purpose.
From the moment she had first laid her eyes on Wato, Sherlock had had the feeling that there was something about this woman. Something a little bit more interesting than other people, something a little bit more radiant. She had not been quite able to put her finger on the why, which had only made her all the more curious. Perhaps it was the kind of gentle fury with which Wato seemed to be plowing through the world. She had just experienced loss, and no doubt had seen terrible things during her time in Syria, and yet she was not wallowing in grief. Instead, the trait that most shone through in Wato’s early interactions with Sherlock was sheer determination. There was something captivating about that.
Besides, for some reason, it was just so much fun to mess with Wato. Her reactions were a delightful distraction.
For these reasons, Sherlock had felt that it was not perhaps all that bad to have Wato live in the same house and tag along on cases. She had figured this was why people kept pets. Their presence was oddly soothing and entertaining. Wato was not a friend. Just someone Sherlock had a reason to keep around.
The first time Sherlock had been forced to re-asses her feelings about Wato, had been with the encounter with the Hemingway guy. It wasn’t about that guy, as such. Sherlock could see his fakeness miles away, so even Wato, no matter how dense she was about people, would have caught on soon. But what had thrown Sherlock for a loop had been her own reaction at Wato’s reaction. For the first time she had realized that she did not want Wato to be upset at her, or angry at her. And that she did not want Wato to not be by her side. No matter how much people grew attached to their pets, it was still too much of a stretch of logic to claim that was all it was. And Sherlock could not tolerate stretching logic.
In a twisted way, it was almost a relief that the situation with the Shiina sisters had reached a critical danger point before Sherlock had time to process her new revelation. Wato was returned to her safe and sound, and afterwards it was easy to think that whatever confusing feelings Sherlock might have been developing, now was not the time to dwell on that.
However, from there on, it had all just gradually gotten worse. It was as if day after day, Wato was shining more brightly, becoming more vivid, growing harder to not notice. She was slowly creeping into her soul in ways Sherlock had not thought possible. She was unhappy when Wato was not around. She was unhappy when Wato was not happy.
And then that Moriya guy was sitting there in her house, looking at Wato like that, and Sherlock felt an urge to ram his face on the table.
But the problem was, that it wasn’t just that she wanted Wato to be around. She wanted Wato to want to be around. She wanted Wato to choose, entirely of her own volition, to be with her rather than anyone else.
Suddenly it was different kind of irritating when people said Wato was her friend. She hoped someone would figure it out. She hoped someone would say it out loud. So she would not have to.
“You’re in love with her.”