***I do not own any of the characters referred to in this story. The characters belong to Sir Arthur C.D. along with the modifications and modernizations of the BBC TV show "Sherlock" created by Moffat and Gatiss.

William Sherlock Scott Holmes. Consulting Detective. High-functioning Sociopath. These are the titles that Sherlock gives himself. I guess he thinks that makes him more presentable to society, more fitting, if you will. You see, he's never been a man for blending with the crowd; no, no, Sherlock must be the world's only consulting detective, the only high-functioning sociopath. He can't just be autistic (which he never tells anyone about, even though Mrs. Hudson has long since discovered). He can't just be mental (Anderson teases all the time). He can't…just be. He is unique and individual, which sometimes gets him unwanted labels as well, freak being the most used. Freak. That's what he really is, isn't it? A freak. A freak of nature. A freak of society. A sideshow freak. That's all he is, all he really is, anyway. Donovan even said so ("Not that her opinion is relevant or healthy to unleash upon society, anyhow," Sherlock always says. "Doesn't mean she's wrong though").

John Hamish Watson. He never gives himself any titles. He's just….John. Just John. Oh, how boring. There are millions of soldiers. There are millions of doctors. Millions of Johns, even. Now, unlike his companion, John is one that blends with the crowd without meaning to; his short figure doesn't help much either. Without Sherlock always standing next to him, John doubts anyone would even see him; see John. The Sherlock-thing goes both ways though; even if Sherlock gets people to notice John, it isn't for very long. You see, Sherlock is a good foot or two taller than his partner, easily casting him into the shadows. Plus, you know, the whole deducing thing and how Sherlock always has to get noticed. Bloody sod. Anywho, John has always been…not ignored, but looked over. He has, in fact, grown accustomed to it.

These two men, no matter how much they deny it, complement each other in ways that no one understands. As observed after the Fall, John was completely broken. Of course, Mary came in and saved the day, but she only salvaged John from the wreckage of his state of being. She didn't save him. He isn't whole. And I don't mean that in a lovey-dovey way either. Not platonic. Not brotherly (Sherlock's had enough of brothers for a lifetime). No, John was more than that to Sherlock, and Sherlock was more than that to John. No, they were soulmates. I don't mean that in a romantic way either so calm yourself. They are puzzle pieces that fit perfectly. I remember putting puzzle pieces together as a child. I quite enjoyed it, in fact. But, there would always come a time where I could simply not find a matching piece. I would become frustrated and jam two un-matching pieces together just to fill in the gap of the picture. But the pieces looked so awkward together and the picture never turned out as it should. Mary and John can't be put together. They simply can't. It won't work.

Now, let's look at it the other way around: John leaves Sherlock. Well, then Sherlock wouldn't even be human. John gets Sherlock to show emotion. Without John, Sherlock is only a shell. He's a robot. He's a freak. Just as Sherlock takes John out of the crowd, John takes Sherlock out of his shell. Without John, Sherlock becomes insensitive toward others, incomprehensible, even.

There's a quote, from Greek mythology I always look back to: "The first humans were created with four arms, four legs and four eyes… They had two noses and two mouths and they terrified Zeus… He believed they had eminent powers and feared there would come a day when one would take his place as Ruler. To prevent such an incident from ever occurring, Zeus split each human in half and left them to wander aimlessly around the mortal world searching for their other half" This is John and Sherlock's entire relationship; they never know how much they need one another until half of the partnership collapses.