Sherlock (BBC) Fanfiction: Not Much Difference
Not Much Difference.
Summary: Sherlock Holmes in 1000 words. Canon. One shot. Introspective.
Disclaimer: thank you, BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
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There’s not much difference between a psychopath and a high-functioning sociopath, really. It’s more a superficial difference than anything else. Sociopaths are just a little more chaotic than a psychopath. Well, Sherlock’s organisation was another man’s anarchy so he slotted into sociopath easier than he would’ve liked.
He didn’t like fitting in to anything really. It was little wonder he invented his own job slot, to be the only one rather than one of many.
A lot of people thought he was mad. Crazy. Insane. He knew he was a little of everything but at the forefront he was simply a misunderstood genius. It was reasonable though because the best geniuses were always the ones no one understood. Real geniuses didn’t need to waste time on trivial things like social norms, empathy or sympathy.
-linear thoughts, linear parallels, what did it all mean? But that didn’t matter; none of it mattered when the world spun ‘round and ‘round and would never stop-
What good was it to please the masses when one was displeased with themselves? Sherlock could not be a liar to himself anymore than he could bring himself to play human with those around him. Conventions were for boring people. Rules were restrictions. Enlightenment needed something beyond that.
The enlightenment of God was something entirely different though. Sherlock worked with the power of observation and logic, seeing the details people brushed off as unimportant. He’d once heard himself described as a miracle worker. The notion made him scoff.
There were no such things as miracles, like there was no such thing as God. How could there be a God, Sherlock mused, when so much suffering existed in the world? Either God was almighty and uncaring, or He did care, but was too weak to really help.
Anyway, religions came with their own set of moral barriers, their own guidelines to live by. Sherlock didn’t need guidelines; he just needed to find the truth.
Psychopaths broke the law by killing people. Sherlock was hardly saner, since he found his point in life to wonder why-and not just wonder, but also figure out how-they killed. The idea of guilty and innocent were something society put in place. The idea of right and wrong, good and bad, were highly subjective.
Proving the facts, proving what may or may not have happened: it was science, it was an art of its own kind, it was something more than truth and it was universal.
-the only constant is death and thus I am surrounded by it-
Humans invented evil as surely as they invented good. Without evil, good could never exist and humanity clung to the idea of some messiah like there was nothing else to hope for. All of it was ridiculous and illogical.
It was sad, in a way, how Sherlock was an outcast. He understood humans more than people understood themselves. He analysed them intently; it was disturbing how much people overlooked.
People were as ignorant as they chose to be. Sherlock hated ignorance. Much like he despised stupidity.
Stupidity came from a stagnant mind. From lulling around and doing nothing. Boredom. Letting his mind go to waste would be a crime indeed. Not that he had much respect of the law itself. Laws only reflected the minds of those in power. Power given by the people to a select few.
-what does it matter who’s in power today or tomorrow, it’s all the same in the end-
The idea of democracy meant that people worked to please the people rather than to help the people. It was flawed in that, if the ignorant became the majority, then idiocy was dominant. Instead of working for the future, the government had to bow to the pressures of now to keep the voters happy.
Sherlock couldn’t understand why pretending to care would help, how it would change anything. To waste a moment on empathy, on something akin to worry, what good would it do? He thought John understood but on some level, John was the same as the others.
No, that wasn’t right. John understood Sherlock was not a freak. He understood that there was something more about Sherlock, something not quite normal, but nothing to be scared of. It was nice how awed John was by simple deduction.
It almost clicked, at times, why empathy was so highly valued. It almost made sense why emotions were something to be factored in.
His brother had tried to explain before, but words weren’t enough to understand, to really fully comprehend.
-almost, not quite, like there was something missing, some crucial bit of information-
Seeing John ready to die but realising he, Sherlock, wasn’t ready to let him, forced him to acknowledge emotions were important.
They allowed you to manipulate, to control. But the problem-and there is always a problem-is that it allowed you to be manipulated in turn.
Irrational, really; how was one average person more important than dozens of other average people? He was though, John was very important in a quiet, humble way that made Sherlock wary.
There’s not much difference between a weakness and a strength. Pride was a confidence booster, but it could lead to one overlooking things. Money opened doors but left you reliant on others. Intelligence was good, but in surplus it proved a problem because people got intimidated.
Friends-actually friend in the singular because John was the only one-were generally considered strengths. They help and they are just there, which Sherlock knew it shouldn’t have been important, but was.
Except, on that rare occasion they were kidnapped and used as a hostage, they were a weakness.
-for a second, before the bombs and threats, he thought John might’ve been Moriarty and that level of betrayal hurt-
Sherlock normally cast off weaknesses; deleted and removed them like he did to unnecessary memories or facts that cluttered and weren’t immediately helpful.
John, though, he wasn’t quite yet ready to get rid of.
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A/N: Did anyone else notice in The Blind Banker that Sherlock introduced John to Sebastian as a ‘friend’, and then John hastily corrected him by saying, ‘colleague’, and I swear to God Sherlock’s face fell a bit. D:
Oh, and hope you enjoyed the small dive into the mind of Sherlock Holmes.