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It’s not that Sherlock is unable to have feelings, he does. It’s not that Sherlock is insensitive, he just hides his feelings. It’s not that Sherlock didn’t fall for Irene Adler because he’s unable to love. Quite the contrary. He’s already in love, and he’s faithful. “To whom?” Will ask the curious ones while the tattletales will call bullshit and still call him “The Virgin” (thanks to Irene; jealousy doesn’t fit her as you can see). Well, that’s a strange story, also a little sad one, I’m afraid, the kind of even Mycroft doesn’t speak about. It’s not that sad, no, just… See by yourself.
Talking about Mycroft, he may have mess around with his brother’s memories, but he would never be able to tamper theses ones, he wouldn’t have dare to. At secondary school, Sherlock didn’t have any friend. He was too special, too clever, too cold, too scary for it. But not scary enough to hold off the bullies. You know what they say, violence is moron’s language. So, Sherlock learned boxing, if his icy glares weren’t enough, his fist would finish the job. And it’s always interesting to know multiples languages. He was safe, plus or mine. There were always one or the other fools to try and prank him, but they always regretted their foolishness soon. He was lonely, though. And even if he acted like it was exactly what he wanted, he couldn’t lie to himself. Alone wasn’t protecting him, Alone was eating him alive.
If Sherlock had been the kind of person to read romantic novels or to watch silly series on TV, he would have been disgusted to see how much what had happened to him looked like one of their scripts. He was 15 when a new student joined his grade; a girl who looked so clumsy and shy that she was almost painful to look at. She was going to be a prey of choice for all the jerks, that was for sure. Even more since she had openly decided to sit next to Sherlock, while smiling to him, in addition. The inevitable happened, the second the teacher left the classroom, the biggest, the stupidest guy in their grade got up and went straight for the newest student.
If you asked to Sherlock why he became a detective (while he has a chemistry degree), several answers could be offered to you: he may say this was all about his addiction to the mystery if he was half honest, or because of his inability to not find the right answer if he felt smug, maybe because he had to do something with his life if he felt depressed, or you wouldn’t have any answer at all, it would be most likely. Sherlock would never answer it was because defending the weaker ones than himself had changed his life when he was 15.
The moment the bully stretched his hand out to grope at the new student’s hair, Sherlock sent him flying trough the classroom. He didn’t know, at this very moment, why he had felt the urge to protect the girl, but it was too late. It was done. And he was also done, since the bully’s friends were ready to beat him. What a surprise it had been when the young girl – Y/N he would learn soon – caught the nearest moron to, first, return his wrist and, then, send her knee right in his sensitive areas.
“I’ll also break the nose of the next who moves.”
This had had Sherlock agape; even more when Y/N had returned to her seat, blushing madly under his gaze. The shy girl had been back as suddenly as the tigress had been out. And he had known. As stupid as it can seem, he had known she would be the one. Sure, he had done his best to not acknowledge these frightening feelings, to not think about her, dream about her, to not write ballad for her – erk! How disgusting! – to not let his hand crept closer to hers while they were having lunch together, to not shift awkwardly when she had her head on his lap, helping him rehearsing for a test, to not just kiss her whenever she was close enough, all the time…
By the time he was 17, he had stopped to resist. He was ready. He had learnt how to dance, he was going to ask her to be his partner to the night prom and, by the end of the night, he was going to ask her out. He was ready. What he hadn’t be ready for was her telling him light-heartedly that she was going to be the partner of the very idiot who tried to ill-treat her three years ago. He even hadn’t had the chance to try. And he wasn’t ready to see her dancing in his arm, he wasn’t ready to have his heart broken. Maybe loneliness wasn’t this bad, after all.
See, that’s such a stupid story. Just a disappointing young love. But it had been so, so painful… it couldn’t happen again. Never. So, Sherlock built thick walls around him and armed himself with sarcasm and coldness. His heart became unreachable, Alone was protecting him, again. Eating him up alive. Again.
But Sherlock never stops thinking, especially about her. She still plagues his thoughts, his dreams. His regrets. If he only had been braver, if he hadn’t given up this easily, maybe… Maybe… Maybe he wouldn’t be alone on John and Mary’s wedding, maybe he wouldn’t fell this awkward about love and feelings, maybe he wouldn’t be so sad to see what he has missed. Oh, no, he isn’t jealous, quite the opposite, despite everything he shows, he’s always happy to see the people who counts for him being full of joy.
People may think he’s leaving the wedding early because he’s jealous or sad or whatever they want, Sherlock doesn’t care. He’s just ready again, ready to be brave, ready to be honest. Did he ever pronounce Y/N’s name after the prom night? No, never. Did he act like he forgot her, like he didn’t give a shit anymore? Yes, he does. Was it total bullshit? Absolutely. Sherlock had always kept an eye on her from afar, he knew where she went at University, what was her job, her address. The cab driver too, now.
He’s cold and afraid, but there’s light inside, both Y/N’s house and Sherlock’s heart. And there’s a cheer “Coming!” when he rings the bell. And disbelief on Y/N’s face when she opens the door.
“Sherlock?”
“Hum… What if I tell you I’ve been in love with you since we were kids?”
The first answer he gets is an angry and hungry kiss. Y/N is holding him by his collar as to prevent him to fly away. This is probably exactly why she’s holding him this way. Sherlock’s almost sure. When they finally break the kiss, Y/N is smiling at him, both shyly and daringly, as she was challenging him to complain.
“I’ve been waiting for 15 years to hear that, sorry to not want to wait one more minute.”