No one will ever convince me, not for one single nanosecond,...

No one will ever convince me, not for one single nanosecond, that anything about Sherlock’s face here is a lie. LOOK at him. It breaks my heart. He needed that forgiveness - for, let’s not forget, saving John’s life and withstanding torture, among other things - so very badly. It’s the only thing he wanted. Remember him calling Molly John. Remember him constantly hearing John in his head. Remember the goldfish conversation. Remember him projecting his loneliness onto Mycroft and the train guy. Remember the utter lack of time for fear when he stepped into traffic to hijack a motorcycle, because literally not one other thing mattered to him. Not caterwauling Mary tagging uselessly along, not other cars, not obstacles or staircases or taunting text messages or the fire itself: only John. Remember him telling John to save himself and leave him behind to die. Nothing matters to Sherlock at this point but John. That’s simply all there is. No one else even exists for him. So don’t ever, EVER bother trying to tell me that John’s forgiveness wasn’t absolutely everything to him here.