Work Text:
Who I want to be
You’re making tea. Or food. Or some other thing I always forget to do.
How can something so boring like making tea be the most fascinating thing in the world as long as you are the one doing it?
How is that possible? I don’t have an answer. Believe me I have had enough time to think about this.
I have spent entire days thinking about this. You probably thought I was in my mind palace.
Thinking about a case. Finding out answers for the next mystery I was going to solve.
Because you think I’m that clever. You think way too much of me.
Since the day we met. That day at Bart’s where you lend me your phone I’ve spent more time than I like to admit thinking about you.
Every day I find myself wondering. Wondering about you.
I’ve always found humanity boring. Other people were nothing I was interested in.
I looked at people and found nothing was special about them. I didn’t really see them. I didn’t really see myself. Why would I?
But then you came along. I deduced you and you told me I was brilliant. Extraordinary. I looked at you a second time.
I looked at you and thought you were the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.
You don’t think anything of yourself. And all I’ve done is tell you you’re an idiot.
You’re dull, boring, predictable. But that is not the truth. Nothing about you is boring or predictable.
If you were predictable I wouldn’t have to wonder about you. You are the most incredible thing on this planet.
Everyday my fascination grows.
I was blind before I met you. The second I laid my eyes on you it was like something in the world had shifted.
Somehow everything seemed ore bright. More colourful. To this day I cannot explain.
Every day I wonder what would happen if I would just tell you. Sit you down and tell you how incredibly extraordinary you are.
Not me but you. Would you believe me?
Before I met you I never saw any beauty in humanity. I looked and people and only saw their flaws.
You have flaws. So many. But don’t we all? Your flaws make you so much more beautiful.
But when I look at you I don’t see your flaws. I see your blond hair. I see how it gets more and more grey every day.
How would it feel to run my hands through it? Would it be as soft as it looks? I see the crinkles around your eyes.
Other people thing they are a flaw. A sign of age.
But when you laugh and the crinkles deepen I think it’s the most beautiful thing in the universe.
You don’t laugh enough. I should make you laugh more often. But instead I make you worry or upset.
Why do I do that? Why can’t I just make you happy?
You’re a few inches shorter than me. I have spent so many times wondering how it would feel to hug you.
From my calculations, we would fit together perfectly. You could tuck your head under my chin and I could lay my cheek on your head.
Breathe you in. embrace you. Never let you go. How would your body feel against mine? I can do nothing but wonder.
That is the good thing about having a mind palace. I can picture everything so vividly.
Sometimes I open my eyes and don’t know what is real. Sometimes I think it would be better to just stay in my mind palace.
We are both happier there. But then again it isn’t really you. Just an imagination. You would never be that happy with me.
I’m not good for you. Never good enough. I should stay away from you. Let you find happiness. Find a wife.
Maybe you will have children and never think about me again. I am so selfish.
Sometimes, just for a second, I think you might really see me. But I know you don’t.
Sometimes I catch you staring at me. And I wonder. Just for a brief moment. Do you se me for who I really am? But I know you don’t.
I know you see my intellect. You see me for my brain.
You are fascinated with what I can tell you about a person by simply looking at them.
But you will never see me for who I really am. Just like the whole world, you are blinded by my brain.
Why can’t I be normal?
Could we be happy if I was normal? If I wasn’t clever? Why do I have to be like this? Don’t I deserve happiness? Probably not.
I can understand that. I’ve done some stuff. Maye there is a God. Maybe there is something like fate. It had to be fate.
Meeting you. I cannot explain it with anything else. To show me someone so utterly perfect and extraordinary like you.
But I am who I am. I cannot change that. I don’t know how. You have changed me for the better. But it isn’t enough.
Never will be enough. Never good enough for John Watson.
Nothing will ever be good enough for you. At least not in my eyes.
If I could I would change every atom of my being into the perfect match for you. But I can’t. I’m stuck in this form.
Wrong gender, wrong brain, not normal enough.
Sometimes I think I should just do something. Just tell you. Kiss you? Would you hit me? Would you be disgusted?
You don’t like men. You’re mister straight. Or so I think. How would you react?
If I wasn’t so dependent on you I would just do it. But I get struck with the paralyzing fear of you leaving me.
I wouldn’t survive that. I know you eventually will leave me. To start a family. But I can still hope you won’t.
I will try to be happy for you if you do. I will. Because seeing you happy will be worth all the pain.
But I could never survive you leaving me because you are disgusted by me. Never.
Please never leave me. I know it is unrealistic. But I can dream.
Please?