You See But Do Not Observe

WEAKNESS

Serena stiffened. "I'm not scared."

"Yes, you are."

"What about you?" Serena said back angrily, turning the tables like she always tried to do.

"Me?" Sherlock looked surprised.

"Yes, you. You are so terrified of getting close to me that you won't trust me."

"The same could be said for you. And don't think that I didn't notice you changing the subject." Sherlock retorted.

Serena suddenly felt drained of all her energy. "I'm just so tired of running." She said softly. "It's all I know, but I'm so tired."

"Then stop running and tell me!" Sherlock said, a hint of desperation in his voice.

Serena shook her head. "I can't stop running yet, Sherlock. I can't."

She turned on her heel and walked through the door.

"You wouldn't tell me even to save your friends." Sherlock said bitterly. "I thought that if I appealed to your better nature, asked you as a friend, you would-"

"As a friend!" Serena exclaimed.

"Yes, as a friend. Because, according to some definitions, that is what we are."

Serena looked at him. He was standing now. And he looked convincing enough. His voice sounded sincere. She wanted to tell him, to trust him. But the fear that had trapped her for the better part of three years still held her in its cage.

"If you knew, you wouldn't be my friend. You wouldn't even be able to stand looking at me." She told him.

"How do you know that?"

"Because you think love is weakness, and that those that believe in it are weak. But I used to, Sherlock. I used to be such a fool."

"You don't seem weak."

Serena knew he was wrong. If she wasn't weak, why was she crumbling from the inside?

"I have to go. I have to think." Serena backed out the door. Sherlock watched her go, his face set. Serena thought she saw confusion in his eyes.

She passed John on her way down.

"Serena?" He asked, but she brushed past him.

"Serena!" He shouted after her, but she had already swept through the door.

Her heart was pounding. The fear that infected her made her hands quiver slightly. She was scared of so many things; her past, the serial killer, being trapped. But what scared her the most, what made her fingers shake like they were now was how much she needed Sherlock. She wanted to tell him so much it hurt. That terrified her beyond belief.

(Sherlock's POV)

"Serena?" Sherlock heard John shout down the hall before the door shut.

"What was that about? Were you two fighting again?" He asked Sherlock as he collapsed back onto the couch.

"It is not important." Sherlock answered. His mind was tearing apart the remnants of their conversation.

He was surprised to find he hadn't been lying. As the words had slipped from his lips, he hadn't been lying. He truly thought of Serena as a friend, the same way he thought of John.

And she obviously cared to. She hadn't wanted to feel ashamed. She didn't want him to think little of her. Sherlock could understand that. But whatever was so horrible that she thought he would hate her for it, he couldn't imagine.

He honestly didn't think he could hate her, even if he wanted to.

That was a frustrating thought. It meant that he was getting soft.

"Sherlock, answer me!" John demanded.

"Hmm?"

"Honestly. I asked, what are you thinking about?"

Sherlock sighed. "Her. She isn't making sense."

"Her? Serena? How is she not making sense?"

"She won't tell me."

"Oh, not that again."

"Whoever is committing these murders is connected to her."

"Why not ask Mycroft? I bet he has all sorts of intelligence on her."

Sherlock shook his head vigorously. "I am not asking Mycroft for favors."

John shrugged. "Then wait."

"Wait?"

"I have a feeling Serena will tell you. Just give her time."

Sherlock crossed his arms and laid back on the couch, staring at the ceiling and pondering what John had said.