americas_son | (no subject)

"Thank you!" Cal exclaims, a cross between exasperated and relieved. "That's what I kept trying to tell him."

"And let me guess—he reacted by becoming incomprehensibly annoyed and then not killing anyone for dinner."

He can see the humour in it.

Cal pauses over that last.

"- I don't know, we split up."

His expression darkens into irritation, though, because now that Sherlock has pointed it out, it's obvious.

"I'm very predictable sometimes," he murmurs, reaching into the cupboard to his left to get out a mug just before the kettle clicks. "If it helps, he was not doing it to spite you."

"Sure, he wasn't," Cal mutters.

Now he's actively glad he killed the girl in the park.

"Oh, no."

He glances up from pouring his tea and looks at Cal very seriously.

"No, he was proving to himself that he could do it." A wry smile touches his face. "You have no idea the lengths to which I will go to assure myself I can do the impossible."

"It's not that hard not to kill someone."

Cal is not giving an inch.

"There just usually isn't any reason."

"It's not that." He shakes his head—considers—says as he sets the kettle down, "He was trying to be me."

"You are human."

It sounds kind of like an accusation.

"Precisely, yes."

"He is not human."

Just so everyone's clear.

"Has it occurred to you that he might be afraid?"

This earns an impatient no shit look.

"He should be afraid," Cal snaps. "They're gonna shove his soul back in and everything's gonna suck! I'd be fucking terrified."

Even just the thought is terrifying - echoing, ironically enough, the helplessness that had paralyzed him before. It makes him want to destroy anyone who might even consider it in passing.

"It hasn't occurred to him."

Sherlock knows that for a fact. He's exchanged a few words with his counterpart about the impending transition. The picture it builds in his mind is not a comfortable one.

"He is trying to convince himself that nothing important needs to change. In a sense it is true; I've no doubt the resulting Sherlock will be much more like him than like me."

"Well, he's in for a surprise, then."

Cal can't bring himself to have much sympathy. Not under the circumstances.

He shrugs; picks up his tea; breathes the steam.

"You're welcome to try to tell him differently. I would, if I thought he would listen."

"I did try," Cal points out. "He was all, 'Oh, it won't be that bad,' 'Oh, I won't care that much,' 'Oh, it won't actually change anything ever.'" The imitation of Sherlock's voice isn't bad; the English accent could use some work.

"You'd never know that his entire schtick is that he pays attention to shit."

"And to his own mind, at that. It makes me wonder where I might be hiding my own cherished illusions."

Well, he knows where he kept one of them, at any rate. It is no longer a concern.

"I just - I don't get it," Cal continues. "Even if he couldn't remember for some reason, he literally has his human self right in front of his face. He must be working really fucking hard to ignore that. He said he sees the differences, but he obviously doesn't."

He shrugs.

"It's simple enough. I could become exactly like him, if I wanted to. He refuses to acknowledge that he won't want to."

"Pretty much," Cal agrees. "And then he gets all offended when I tell him I don't wanna deal with it."

"Well, we can leave him in Tony's hands for now. Tony has extensive experience with my idiosyncrasies."

And being able to snuggle it better will keep him distracted from his own multitude of troubles. Really, it's the best solution for everyone.

"Sounds good to me. I'm not gonna kiss it and make it better."

That won't help anyone. Especially not Cal.

Sherlock smiles.

"No," he agrees.

Cal relaxes a little, smirking.