Sherlock Alternate Ending

He's been in there for four hours!" I screamed, banging my hands against the door. I was tired of standing out here, especially with whatever he was doing, and I wanted answers of some kind by now.

"I told you he's like this," John said, rolling his eyes, though he was annoyed too.

"I swear if he doesn't open the door this second I will break this door down and barge in there myself." I fumed.

"He's not usually like this, though," John muttered.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

John took in a deep breath, "Well, Sherlock in all aspects is a drama queen. He prides himself in showing off his prowess and having an excuse to be overly dramatic. These puzzles he spends practically every waking moment and revels in them. Ever since I've known him he's always lives for them. Generally, though he spends weeks on it, trying to draw it out as long as he can. He only goes to his mind palace really as a last resort, and even then it's at least a couple weeks until he does that. But now, after only a couple days on the case, he's already trying to speed it up and solve it already. Sherlock doesn't even seem to enjoy any of this. It's almost as if he hates the case." John said, shaking his head.
"It's because of me, isn't it?
Does he still hate me for some reason? Doesn't he?" I asked.

"Well, Sherlock certainly doesn't hate you. Believe me, you know when Sherlock hates you, practically he makes you miserable for your life if he hates you. You saw how he was when he was annoyed, when he hates something it's pretty obvious. Sherlock is afraid of you."

"Afraid? What did I do to make him afraid of
me?"

"Simple. You were kind to him in a world that treats him unkindly, that treats anyone that is different unkindly. You were a person who could stand ground with equal intelligence, and he didn't need to prove himself to you. You were perhaps the only person to understand him, and that is what he fears the most. He hates sentiment, only believing it to be a concept the weak minded fall to. He believes if he falls to it that he'll be weak minded and just ordinary, a nobody. He will be as ordinary as mankind, and he fears that the most. Being average for him would be devastating. He would only then be a freak, not a genius." John said solemnly.

"How do I make him trust me then? I don't want him to isolate himself like that. I don't want him to be alone." I said, and I realised I truly didn't.

I didn't want him to have that feeling of having to prove himself to everyone, that he is different and needed to be alone and secluded. He didn't need to prove himself to be unique and superior so that he couldn't get hurt by others. If he couldn't only see how many, even if few and far between, cared for him for who he was, not just his brain. Even if he could, though, would he care about those thoughts? Would he ever listen or believe them? Would he ever stop shutting out the world, even to those dear to him?

"I don't know, Hermione. He's just so lost in that big mind of his these days. Hardly comes out of it, it seems. I don't even know what he thinks about now." John said.

The door then opened and Sherlock appeared with a slight smirk on his face. "You can come in now," He said.