“The knowledge of the truth
is not given to the curious, but to those who follow the ascetic way.
Knowledge is a fruit on the tree of virtues, which is the tree of life.
Knowledge comes from asceticism. For the true Christian, Orthodox
philosophy is in fact the theanthropic* ascesis** of the intellect and
of the whole person.”
~St. Justin Popovich
*both divine and human **the practice of self-discipline
kept a photo of John with him during his time in Serbia. The photo got crinkled
during the two years. A little faded. Damps destroying a part of it. It was
just a normal photo. The type of stiffed
lipped, no smile photo for driving licenses etc. Sherlock stole it
before he disappeared. One day, he lost the photo. And never found it again. Maybe
it just fell from his pocket during one of his runs. And when his captors left
him in the cold hardened floor after beating him into a pulp, Sherlock just
laid down there. The pain was bearable, because it was more painful to him that
he lost that photo. He didn’t even trust his mind palace. What if he forgets
what John looks like.
Mycroft showed him John’s photo for the first time, Sherlock hated it and loved
it at the same time. He almost made the mistake of asking Mycroft for it.
I am gonna see him now. I can touch him. He ran his own hand over his lip. I wonder
if I like bristly kisses for the first time. My god I hate that mustache.
And he got
touched. Yes. Not like the way he wanted.
tackled him in the ground and opened his wounds.
know. I don’t blame him.
get the kiss. Just got some wounds reopened.
a single tear fell down from Sherlock’s eyes while dressing his wounds.