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Even though I sobbed through John ‘talking’ to Sherlock, this broke my heart. Because once you get past the fact that Sherlock is indeed alive you have to take in his expression.
He looks numb.
He’s been watching John, and he’s seen the pain he’s in, knows that the reason John is feeling this way is because of him.
But the worst part is that he can’t do anything about it. Because even though Moriarty is (presumably) dead, Sherlock knows that if he’s even hinted at being alive, one of Moriarty’s henchmen will be there to follow out their bosses orders. And therefore the only reason he stays away is because he knows it’s better for John, as hurt as he is, to believe he’s dead. All he can do is watch as his friend grieves at a distance.
Because a grieving John Watson is better than a dead one.
And just as John has reverted back to his military training, Sherlock has reverted to the cold, steeled, and unemotional facade he wore before he met John.
And that, is what breaks my heart.
And both of them are latching onto these old and familiar patterns of behavior in order to survive and cope with their respective grief.
Oh god. Drogas?
I think we should also remember that even with the advances Sherlock made in learning how to process and accept emotional impulses, he is still utterly perplexed by their necessity and presence.
“Look at them. They all care so much.”
In this moment at the graveyard we have put before us a Sherlock trying to process and categorize the alien feelings he sees exhibited by his only friend. The torturous grief so prevalent in John’s being. A similar grief that Sherlock has most likely tried to excommunicate from himself in the months of his supposed death and disappearance.
Why does John care so much? It is a question that he has always hinted at, and skirted but has never overtly said. To any person it is obvious. Whether friendship or kinship. But to Sherlock it is still an unanswerable question.
Remember that Sherlock is a flawed character. While John and Sherlock’s relationship had blossomed into a syncopated union, it started as massive ego rub for Sherlock.
“Thats the frailty of genius John, it needs an audience.”
Who is Sherlock’s audience now? Who is there to marvel at his deductions? No one. Because, to everyone, he no longer exists.
