A/N: This sort of didn't come out as originally planned but I just couldn't help but think of how similar Sherlock and Icarus are (well in some ways). This little drabble had originally been made to fill a prompt for a group of friends but I'd strayed too far from the rules and decided to post here instead =)

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC/ACD Sherlock.

Enjoy~~

In Greek Mythology, Daedalus was held in exile in Crete, where he and his son, Icarus, were being imprisoned by King Minos. Daedalus constructed two pairs of wings. He made them with wax and feathers. These wings were used by him and Icarus to escape the island. Before departing, Daedalus warned his son not to fly too close to the sun or the sea. Icarus was overcome by the wonder that is flight, and flew too close to the sun.

Standing on the rooftop of St. Bart's, the last thing Sherlock expected was for him to have his arms spread eagle wide for the sake of his friends. Sentiment had never been a strong point, much less a valuable asset, just look at where it had gotten him. He didn't regret a single second though; he had been able to meet someone who looked past his cold exterior. That in itself was an incredible feat; imagine his surprise when the man, John Watson, his best friend/flatmate, was able to thaw his heart out from its icy confinement. The experience was worth every second Sherlock would have to crash and burn.

He had been warned though, not to get too close to the sun-

I will burn the heart out of you

-But he couldn't help it, his curiosity had gotten the better of him and now he had to die and leave the few people who truly cared for him behind.

He had to leave John behind.

Just because you have wings doesn't mean you are safe, Icarus had had to learn that the hard way.

Even before he had met his intellectual equal, his intelligence had always landed him into trouble. His indifference towards the rest of mankind had really started to form when he was younger.

He had always been looked at as unnatural and freakish by his classmates and had even been frequently bullied by some of the bigger kids for some of his deductions. No one really cared when he walked down the halls with black eyes and bruises all over his arms and legs ; he was just "that weird kid from school no one liked" anyway. He had never really understood why he was being bullied for being himself but as time went on a block of ice had slowly began to form over his heart. Sherlock had once tried to be accepted, but he just wasn't like the other kids. He had to accept that being different was looked down upon in this world.

From that point onwards he had isolated himself (his heart) from everyone he met.

He hadn't realized how much he wanted to be accepted until he finally had been.

You're ordinary. You're ordinary – you're on the side of the angels.

Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them.

These wings on my back are only makeshift after all. Wax and feathers.

You see flying and falling are two very, very different things. When you fall, you have one permanent destination. You feel as if you truly are flying until your body crashes into the cold, hard, unforgiving pavement underneath and you die. You get buried six feet under and are left to rot and be forgotten.

But when you fly, you survive.

Goodbye, John.

He only wished he had had more time to learn how to properly fly.

With his pair of wings gone, Icarus falls into the endless blue below him. The last thing he sees before his body crashes into the ocean is his father flying off into the burning horizon. He smiles, knowing that at least one of them made it out alive.

Finn

Edit: I came back to this story once I noticed I'd forgotten to replace all the Icarus' with Sherlock's, sorry for that.