I’m nice…ishhh.
Sherlock: Am I human?
John: Sometimes.
Like now. Right now, you’re completely human. You’re funny and eager to please. You’re a little shy. Would anyone believe that? It’s true. You’re relaxed and happy, you’re safe. You’re warm and open.
I love your smile. I love hearing you laugh. You’re so human right now, and I don’t know how it is you manage to act like you aren’t at other times, in other places. I don’t know where that comes from. You can be so cold.
I know why you do it, I do know that. But I don’t understand how you manage to act like a machine when you’re so painfully human with your defences down. I don’t know how you switch it all off. I don’t know how it’s even possible.
It’s nice when you don’t though, you know. It’s very nice. I like it.
It feels more…well. More like you, really. More real? More honest. No pretences. All your cleverness with no targets in sight. There’s no one here to impress. It’s only us. You already know I’m impressed with you, don’t you? Of course I am.
This is you I know, the one I’ve always believed in, even when you’ve hidden yourself away from everyone else. This is the Sherlock Holmes no one else gets to see. Only me. This is the soft one, the touchable one. The human one. Mine.
Sherlock: Can’t have sometimes.
John: Yes. You’re human.