The History of an Engagement with φιλια (cont.)

iii. A Second Interlude

Sod this, I said. Sherlock, the machine–Mrs. Hudson had just been shot, why is he so unmanageably bloody frustrating, of course he’s always like this, except he’s more like this than he usually is, which is–wrong. Something’s wrong, and I can’t–I just have to go, he won’t let me in, I just can’t–You stay here, if you want, on your own, I said, turning to leave. Placidly he replies, Alone is what I have, without looking up. Alone protects me. I stared back at him. No. Friends protect people.*

*Stephen Thompson, “The Reichenbach Fall,” Sherlock

 

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