“Oh, Sherlock.” The Doctor’s ancient eyes are sad and his smile sympathetic. “For all your brilliance, you still make the silliest, most human error of all.” Even he, the wisest of the wise, knows he has been guilty of the same flaw.
Sherlock does not lift his downcast, contemplative gaze. “And what, Doctor, would that be?” he asks him. His tone is distant, daring The Doctor to stump him and prove him wrong.
The Doctor watches the seated man for a still, uncomfortable moment, then lets his eyes wander around the flat. His vision settles on a framed photo on a small, couch-side table. His smile grows ever so slightly. He reaches and picks it up carefully, analyzing it fondly, well aware that Sherlock is watching him, before handing it wordlessly to the detective.
Within the frame is the only photograph that Sherlock knows of where he is smiling. He notices that it has been freshly framed but wonders how many times he had passed it. More importantly, he notices that beside him in the picture stands the reason for his grin: his companion, his colleague, his friend, John Watson. Even seeing his photographed face makes Sherlock’s lips twitch into a brief smile he does not know he wears.
He hears The Doctor’s soft words. “Your error, Sherlock, is you think you are alone.” There is a momentary pause. “And I think, deep inside, you know otherwise.”
Sherlock stares at the photograph and silently agrees.
(Source: i-o-u-a-fall)
