Human

"John, please eat something." Mrs. Hudson said kindly, placing a hand on his back.
"I'm not hungry." He said softly.
"It's been three weeks since the… The Fall. Starving yourself won't bring him back." Mrs. Hudson's eyes welled with tears and she swiped them away. Three weeks didn't heal the hurt fast enough. "Please just have some food." She went to the fridge and pulled out the ingredients for a sandwich.
John gripped his tea cup tighter. "I know it won't bring him back, I just don't feel like eating. He took my appetite with him." A lone tear fell to the table. "He took everything." His whisper was barely audible.
Mrs. Hudson sighed. "Oh dearest, you loved him so much."
John slammed his hand on the table and yelled, "I'm not--!" He lowered his voice. "I'm not gay."
Mrs. Hudson shook her head. "Then why do you keep denying like that? I love my best friend June more than life itself. She's my confident, my comfort, and my most prized possession. I love her, and I'm not afraid to admit it. But you are afraid. Why?"
John refused to meet Hudson's eyes. "Because he's my friend. And that's it." He added, in a low mumble, "And I'm not gay."
The landlady looked at John with sad, wise eyes, "Honey, Sherlock just is. To love him doesn't make you gay or straight. It just makes you more human than you want to admit." John looked up now, the admittance finally written all over his face. "Every day, people are dazzled by Sherlock. His looks, his unattainable air, all of it is a recipe for falling. But it takes a true human being to fall in love with him, rather than just to be swept off into a fantasy. You truly understood him. You knew that, like everyone else, he had personality flaws. Sometimes, he made you want to tear your hair out, and other times you couldn't help but admire his skills of logic and reasoning. The bottom line is this: he needed you, and you needed him. You made him better, less of a jerk and more apt to seeing the humanity in others and adjusting himself to step lightly around them. And he made you better, too. No more stress and depression from the war, no more psychosomatic limp, and you've learned to love another unconditionally. Why else would continue to hang around a high-functioning sociopath that was forever insulting you? Because no matter the insult, you knew he didn't mean it. And you knew that you both needed each other. That's true love."
John was crying hard now. "All I can think about these days are the things I wanted to say, but never got around to it. And now I have to add that to the list."
"Add what?"
"That I'm too human for my own good. And that I love him." John wiped his eyes. "Who knew the sociopath would be the one to make me the most human?"