So I started typing this as a normal post and then I realized it was way more fun to do it as a ramble through John’s thoughts a la LSIT. It is soooo much fun.
I think seeing the fire footage was the final piece of the puzzle for John. He suspects more and more heavily throughout the best man speech. To backtrack, when he asks Sherlock to be his best man at the beginning of TSOT, he thinks Sherlock already thinks of him as a friend because he says “of course” when Sherlock asks to confirm that John thinks of him as a best friend. You don’t say someone is your best friend without thinking that they think of you also as a friend, generally their best friend too. He is startled (“getting a bit scary now’) when Sherlock shows that he didn’t know that (through not speaking). “Wait, didn’t you know you were my best friend? Aren’t I your best friend? Aren’t we mates? I thought we were at least mates. I mean, not more than mates, course not, I’m getting married, of course it’s to a woman no matter what Mrs. Hudson thinks. You idiot, how plain do I have to make this? Yes, best friend, best man, whatever. Jesus.”
So after that scene, John knows for sure that Sherlock thinks of him as a friend, best friend even (best friendship is usually reciprocal). The best man speech enlightens John that Sherlock’s best friendliness runs deeper than he thought, given that when he tried on the bench to tell Sherlock about his strength of feeling, Sherlock up and leaves, which to John means Sherlock doesn’t care, though we know that’s not true. “Can I please tell you your friendship has meant a lot to me? Oh, you just walked away while I was talking. Thanks, you massive dickhead. Mary gets me so much better.”
John is so moved by the speech that he hugs him. “Oh, Sherlock likes me after all. A lot. Wow, a lot! Hooray! Life is great! Everything I ever wanted! Sherlock isn’t a cold unfeeling robot and I get to have sex with someone for the rest of my life! Good enough!”
Then at the end of TSOT, with that shatteringly clear expression Sherlock gives John, when John swallows and turns away, I think that is the first time John realizes Sherlock’s feelings are actually romantic. “Oh shit, what has just happened, does he like me like me, he didn’t respond when I groped him on the stag night, I thought that meant—but I just got married, and I love this woman, and Sherlock likes her too, and she likes Sherlock, and for once everyone likes everyone, and Mary is pregnant, but why does Sherlock look so sad, I better express my repressed feelings through interpretive dance, run away run away…“
In between TSOT and the beginning of HLV he avoids Sherlock entirely. “Fuck. Can’t even go near him. Better dream about him instead in a way implying that losing what we had is equivalent to the horror of war while throwing off the strangling hand of my loving wife—no, that’s unfair, she loves me, I love her, right? RIGHT. Better eat my feelings and then ride out my feelings on a bicycle to even come near to and yet fail to reach the level of endorphins I used to get hanging around that guy and then I need to stomp around and snap at people and maybe punch them while I’m at it. NO, you can’t come on my violence spree, Mary, you wouldn’t understand. Oh wait, of course you care about my safety. Course you do. Sorry, that was unfair of me, I’m just used to dickheads drugging me and faking their death and stuff. Yes, you can come. I guess.”
"Sherlock is back on drugs? Why would he…? I don’t understand. Has he been on drugs all this time? I can’t trust him at all. Oh, for a case? Everything is always for a case…fine. No news there. WHERE"S MY CHAIR. Why would he remove my favorite chair! Dick. Better threaten his brother to show I’m on his side. Maybe he’ll put my chair back.”
“Wtf half-naked woman wtffffff. WHO MOVED THE KETTLE THE KETTLE IS SACRED WHAT KIND OF MONSTER ARE YOU. The only one who really knows him—no that’s ME lady, ME. I’M the only one who—Sherlock agrees with her?!? Bullshit, this must be for a case—but Sherlock is putting on a very thorough act. Is it an act? Of course it’s an act. Oh wow, no, no, they’re totally snogging. I’ve never seen him do that with anyone, not even Irene. ASJCKKDHE. Wtf. My face cannot hold all my feels. I’m going to stomp around the room. Dinner? I’ll give you dinner. Thoroughly. In your pants. NO! I mean. Can’t we go shoot someone like we used to? Please. Petty trespassing? That’ll do.”
“You’re proposing to this poor girl for—wtf is wrong with you? Wtf is wrong with me for liking you?”
"HUMAN ERROR? HUMAN FUCKING ERROR? Are all of your feelings human error? Did you even mean what you said in the speech? I can’t. Just.”
“Shit, he got shot. I didn’t want that to happen. No matter how much of a dick he is. Mary? Why is my wife’s name on your lips? Better not think about that. He ran away? From the hospital? Why—who does that? Must be in danger. Boltholes? How did I not know about these boltholes? Maybe Janine was right after all, I don’t know him after all, this is depressing. Thank God I’ve still got my loving wife who—Fuck. Fuck this shit.”
“And now this is my fault. For having an addiction. You shit. You massive shit. And she agrees. Perfect. I thought I’d found a nice normal woman, but it turns out I’m a total masochist and my type is sociopaths who lie to me. Fantastic. Don’t die though. Not again.”
[period of time when Sherlock is in hospital] “Can’t trust Sherlock. Can’t trust Mary. Life is just so great. Well. I know Mary loves me. She’s not who I thought she was, and she’s really fucking scary, but she still loves me, and while I feel utterly betrayed in every way, we’re having a child together. Maybe it’s not that bad that she lied. Maybe. People do silly things. I lied about my height on my driver’s license, after all. Sherlock lied about being dead. We all lie. Sherlock is totally unreliable as a human being anyway and I’ll never understand him. He seems to think Mary and I belong together. Frankly I think he and Mary make a better match because they’re both lying liars who lie and I’m going to say that really passive-aggressively. Oh well, Sherlock’s usually right about things. And. Baby. Okay. I give up. Mary, let’s give it another shot.”
“Holy fuck Sherlock just drugged his whole family and my pregnant wife and what a messed-up dick he is and how did you know I brought my gun fine let’s go shoot things thank God this Christmas was getting a bit too touchy feely anyway. I could stay with my pregnant wife and make sure she’s okay, but I won’t, because I’d rather hang out with this nutso and avoid my feelings like the fact that I’m never actually going to trust Mary again even though I said I would and I’m trying really hard to move past her massive deception even though it’s a lot to ask of me. Sherlock may be a dick but I know where I stand with him.”
“Oh God Sherlock ran straight into a fire to save me I mean I know he did but he just looks so upset here and I thought he was faking all that friendship stuff he said human error after all whose error so many errors all the errors I don’t understand I don’t know what’s real anymore I don’t understand anyone and Magnussen seems to think Sherlock thinks of me as a damsel in distress I’m fucking not but Sherlock’s not arguing oh fuck you mean I’m so important to Sherlock he’d betray his brother to protect my marriage what just what does everyone think we’re in love it’s beginning to get hard to argue…but…really? Why’d he want me to get back with Mary then? I don’t understand.”
"Flick me in the face? I’ve been through worse in the past three years, you moist fucking beanpole. If I can survive Sherlock and Mary, I can survive this. Afghanistan doesn’t even come close. Can’t do anything about it anyway, it’s not like someone’s just going to put a bullet in your brain or—”
“FUCK.”
“That. Thing you did. That was. Um. Good.”
“And now you’re leaving? Again? I…don’t go. I guess you have to. You’ve got your life after all, and it’s better than jail, and I’ve got my pregnant wife, but…Don’t go. This isn’t happening. Six months, and then you’ll be back, right? I can live with…Oh. You don’t really seem to believe that either. Don’tthinkaboutitdon’tthinkaboutitdon’t—Wait…what are you about to say? Is this it? Are you actually going to tell me—oh, fuck you, you tosser. Should have known. No, I’m not going to name my child after the man who broke my heart in a thousand ways because every time I say her name it’ll break my heart again, do I look insane? Don’t answer that, there is nothing the matter with me. Don’t go. Just don’t…oh fuck, no more time. Should we, um, hug? Hand shake? After everything? Well…that’s more British. And manly. We’re men. We’re British men who repress our emotions. Yes. I’m comfortable with that. Here’s my hand. This is it. The last time I’ll ever see you, touch you, talk to you. Hold it together. Okay. Mary’s here for me. She’s scary, but she’s here for me. Goodbye. Fuck.”
"OHMYGOD HE’S COMING BACK THANK YOU MORIARTY YOU BEAUTIFUL PSYCHOPATH!!!”
(“Wait, why is Mary so upset? WHO CARES SHERLOCK IS COMING BACK YAY”)
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