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If you asked Sherlock Holmes how much he loves John Watson, the answer would be 10.
It would be a silly answer, of course, completely devoid of all sense. For you, at least. And anyone else who is not Sherlock Holmes. But, nonetheless, it would be a good one. More than that, it would be true.
Of course, Sherlock could answer something grand and grossly empty of meaning, something generic and entirely imprecise, like “more than life itself” or “to the ends of the world and back”. But he wouldn't, because it's a very simple question with a very simple answer which is just very difficult to explain. Because it's an important question. Because it's John.
It's not the number of reasons why he loves John – those there are too many to count. It's not the number of years he has loved him, even though, at the given moment, it accidentally coincides with that number. In fact, number 10 has very little to do with them at all. And still, it is how much Sherlock Holmes loves John Watson. Why?
The explanation, as it happens, is quite simple. The short answer: all of the world rests on, can be describe by, and is contained within the ten numbers between 0 and 9.
The long answer?
Ten is the number of numerals in the Arabic number system. 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9. It is the proof that all that is needed for thought, for creation of more, is contained in the numerals from 0 to 9. Each is singular, unique, and indelible from itself. No other like it. There are numbers and quantities that surpass human imagination, and even those are just combinations of those ten simple digits.
The world in its entirety fits on a simple number scale. For example:
Zero is the non-number of side of a sphere, which is thought to be the perfect shape in nature, and the degrees Celsius at which water freezes.
One is the minimal number of electrons needed in orbit around a neutron for an element to exist and half of the basis for the binary code.
There are two polynucleotide strands in a DNA double helix, two of each cranial nerve, and several human organs come in pairs.
Three is the number of atoms in a single molecule of water from which all life emerged and without which all life would unfailingly perish, the number of primes in European alchemy, and the number of dimensions humans can perceive.
There are four main sides of the globe, Four Noble Truths in Buddhism, four basic states of matter, and four chambers in the human heart.
Five oceans in the world, five points on the Fujita Scale, five stages of grief, and a perfect fifth is the most consonant harmony in music theory.
There are six basic human emotions, six dots in a Braille cell, and bodies are buried six feet underground.
The neutral pH is 7, and there are seven continents, seven deadly sins, seven colours of the rainbow, seven days of the week.
There are eight planets of the Solar system Sherlock so handily deleted (or nine, in case of someone with a soft heart for Pluto), eight cervical nerves on each side of the spine in the human body, and eight is the maximum number of electrons that can occupy a single valence shell.
Nines are a common way of grading the purity of precious metals, and there are nine Muses of Ancient Greece and there are the Nine Worthies sleeping in the Middle Ages with their ideals of chivalry. According to myths, it takes nine days to fall from heaven to earth, and another nine to reach Tartarus.
The foundations of the world are laid with ten simple numbers at their core. Anything more than that is an embellishment, or a derivative, as unoriginal as it is superfluous, when push comes to shove.
So, yes. Sherlock could say that he loves John “more than life itself” or “to the ends of the world and back”, but he could also say “10”, because while no philosopher has ever managed to quantify life, and the average human mind is very bad at knowing absolutely everything there is to know about the world, “10” is a rather precise and all-encompassing answer. The world in its entirety fits on a simple number scale, and John Watson is the world. For example:
There are zero years Sherlock wishes to spend parted from John, and only one life he has to offer, but he's offering it to John. There are the two of them against the rest of the world, two chairs in the living room, two laptops on the desk, two bedroom, even though only one's been in use for years now (and that's just the way things should be). Three times a day, they sit and eat together, and it's new, this habit of theirs. They didn't use to do it when they were younger. Four times a week Sherlock quits smoking, and four times a week he fails, but John smiles at him all the same, so each week Sherlock begins again. It's been five years since the first time Sherlock woke up next to John, and five minutes since he did so most recently. Sherlock knows that he can make John come in six minutes in an on-call room in St Bart's, when the occasion calls for it (just as he knows that John can unravel him in mere four, but then Sherlock never claimed to be a strong man). It was six months after John's wedding that Sherlock had to sit John down in the darkness of an empty house and let him witness his wife shooting a coin with all the precision of someone very used to aiming at hearts. It took another six for him and John to slowly limp to recovery once the whole ordeal was done. John's star-shaped scar has seven points, and Sherlock hates it for the pain that painted it there, and loves it because it's John's. There are seven days in the week and Sherlock loathes those that he spends without John. Sherlock's catalogued eight different colours that John's eyes take on during the day, and eight different patterns of breathing when they make love. There are nine distinct smiles that John smiles, three of which only Sherlock ever sees, all of them the single most wonderful expression the human face is capable of.
And, in the grand scheme of things, Sherlock would rather delete the period table of elements than forget any of the things above.
Some days he looks at John having his third cup of tea, and it's the most mundane habit in the whole of British Isles, but Sherlock can't help but think: You drink so much tea, and you don't believe in god or fate, but you must have so much future, when there are so many tea leaves at the bottom of your cup that not even the best fortune teller could read them all, but they must mean that you will live for a long long while yet. He doesn't say that, of course. Instead he says: “Sometimes, John, you are so very British”, and with time, John learnt to hear it for what it actually means, which is ' you are all the comforts of home'.
Some days, Sherlock smokes three packs of cigarettes and craves the drugs he gave up years ago. On those days, John takes him to bed early ad even though Sherlock is quite sure he doesn't believe in soulmates (and sometimes, in his darker moments when humanity seems more bestial than it ought to be, he's can't tell if he even believes in souls), he believes in John, and that proves a greater comfort than any feral spirituality concept the world has to offer.
Sherlock remembers the early days, the very early days, when it was different, and more volatile, and glorious in a completely unrefined way. He remembers the Baskerville case and having to share a bed with John, and waking up first and barely being able to breathe with John so close and yet so out of reach. It was the best sort of torture, an exercise in maintaining the most hateful of distances , and the fastest way down the stepladder of madness that Sherlock's ever seen.
When he asked John if he thought they should get married and John said “I don't need another wedding”, Sherlock's heart didn't stop and shatter that very instant. Because he believes in John, even if he's not really good in having faith. He was right to, of course, because a moment later, John slid his old dog tags around Sherlock's neck and said “I promised myself the moment I decided to shoot a man after knowing you for a day. I don't have a ring, and you would probably complain it's impractical for work anyway, but if you think I don't intend to spend the rest of my life with you, you're an idiot. But don't worry, most people are, or so I was told once”. Sherlock knew he was supposed to say something, do something, anything, but in all honesty, all he could think just then was: Dear God, John, do you know what your eyes look like from up close?, even though he's pretty sure he meant ' Do you know you could destroy me if only you wanted to?'
Sherlock tried to love with his head, back then, and of course it didn’t work. He vomited a thesaurus and not a term came close to the feeling in his chest. In his chest. Did you know there was such a thing as a heart-brain? There is a whole bunch of cells in the heart that can learn, remember and act on their own wishes. And just like anything pertaining to Sherlock Holmes, this heart-brain of his was a stubborn thing that heeded no warning.
They were young then, which they are not now, and maybe they're better for it.
It took them years to learn that the heart cannot speak by itself, but that it remembers, and that it learns, if only you let it. Sherlock's learnt the hard way, but it learnt all the same. And in time, Sherlock learnt that sometimes the most perplexing answers were simple. Even so, some days, he still struggles for words. On those days, he takes John's hand and puts it over his own sternum and lets John feel the rhythm of his heartbeat as if to say ' here, this is the pattern my heart learnt just for you, this is what you taught me, see? I remember' . And John, bless his heart, understands.
They are in bed now, and the day is just breaking on the other side of the window. Sussex is a much different place than London, quiet, tame. Morning here comes in like a tide, and not like the awakening of the bees. John is still asleep, just like all those years ago, when Sherlock couldn't touch him. He can touch him now. So he does, as he draws numbers all over his skin. 1- I love you – 2 – there are two strands of the DNA double helix – 3 – you get hiccups when you drink beer and it's lovely - 4 - the valency of carbon is four, and it's the basis for life on Earth – 5 - do you know I don't remember ever being this happy? - 6 – I love you – 7 – I love you – 8 – I love you – 9
They are in bed now, and the day is just breaking on the other side of the window, and it's their anniversary, and Sherlock is happy. Happiness is one of the six basic emotions. It's a rather lovely one, too.
If you asked Sherlock Holmes how much he loves John Watson, the answer would be 10, not because it is possible to quantify just how much Sherlock Holmes loves John Watson, but precisely because it isn't. But it would be the only answer which would not take a lifetime to deliver, and the only one that wouldn't bleed Sherlock dry. Why? The short answer: because the 1 in front of the 0 makes something out of nothing. The long: because there is only one John Watson, and without him, the sense of the world equates to nothing. In the end, it's the best anyone can hope for, in Sherlock's opinion. Something out of nothing, if only for a while. A while is enough. A while is everything.
So, don't ask Sherlock Holmes how much he loves John Watson. Just count to ten.