This is my longest one yet. I also worked really hard on this. Believe it or not, this was the first Johnlock fanfic that I wrote. I put it in a notebook and just recently opened the notebook. SPOILERS!! Also, I wrote some of the scripts in here so not mine. I take no credit. Hope you like it. I've been sick so this might be it for a while. SIKE. I found more prompts. Thank you. Request.
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They say colour will appear when you touch your soulmate. John Watson wished he could see colour he'd been told by friends that it was an amazing thing, second only to the person who caused it. John had never met him. Most people find there when they are 25. John had no such luck. That's one of the reasons he enlisted in the army. The other reasons being his drunken family members. His father was abusive when drunk. He and his sister went through the brute force of it when their mother left. When his sister got older she turned to alcohol. He hoped that when he got back everything would be fine. Even if he never got to see his soulmate. Sadly his optimism did not come true. His father had died in a bar fight and his sister was in the middle of a divorce. His life returned to what it had been before, dull, sad and colourless. That was until he met an old friend.
Sherlock Holmes didn't believe in soulmates. As much as the newfound sight that came with it was great. The person would be insufferable. That's what he told everyone anyways. Sherlock Holmes did believe in soulmates. He was scared. He had fallen in love with someone once. That person had met an untimely end. He couldn't do that again. He was afraid. He had a tactic. He always wore gloves and long sleeves. He had been beaten up several times. Though he didn't see colour, only multiple of the same person. Today Sherlock was bored. He was usually bored. Today he wouldn't shoot the wall though. He had been meaning to do an experiment for a while. He headed to the morgue and met Molly of course. He had already deduced that she was in love with him. They hadn't touched so she had convinced herself that they were soulmates. Sherlock was too afraid to touch her though. Just in case. He was using the microscope when Mike walked in.
Sherlocks POV
"Mike," I said flatly.
A different man walking into the room. A short depressed man. He had a cane, psychotic limp. He really should listen to his physiatrist. He tanned a bit. Vacation. No military. He holds himself like one. I was caught up in my deduction that I didn't notice Mike approaching. He held out his hand for a shake. I reeled back. "Oh Sherlock, still afraid of soulmates?" Mike chuckled.
I flinched. The new guy looked at me curiously. "Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine," I asked.
"What's wrong with the landline?" he questioned.
I hate it when people question me. Why can't they just do what I say? "I refer to text," I said annoyed.
"Sorry it's in my coat," he replied.
Brilliant. "Uh. Use mine." the other one said.
This shocked me. A kind person then. I walked over to him. Keeping my distance. I took the one in my gloved hand. The other was uncovered for experiments. "An old friend of mine, John Watson," Mike said.
Oh, so he has a name now. John. Oh and old friend. So potential flatmate. Maybe I shouldn't mess this up. Maybe a friend. seems nice enough. But I'm Sherlock Holmes. I don't do nice. "Afghanistan or Iraq?" I asked.
I caught Make out of the corner of my eye smiling. "Sorry?" John asked.
"What was it Afghanistan or Iraq?" I asked again.
"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you do?" he asked before I interrupted him.
"Ah Molly, coffee, thank you," I said.
Molly had come in caring for the coffee I had asked for. "What happened to the lipstick?" I asked.
Her lips had gone lighter again. I had trained myself to see almost colour. "It wasn't working for me," she said.
"Really I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth is too small now," I said.
I scolded myself. I really hated hurting Molly. I couldn't help myself. I took a sip of the coffee. Ew, not enough sugar. "Okay," she said and left.
"How do you feel about the violin?" I asked.
"Sorry what?" John asked.
I noticed he said sorry a lot. The looks he was giving Mike clearly showed he was annoyed at him. Probably because Mike introduced us. I'm not a pleasant person. "I play the violin when I'm thinking, sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know about each other." I said.
I gave a smile at the end. He grimaced. I've been told I am not good at fake smiles. He looked to MIke. "Y-You told him about me?" he asked.
Oh, this was going to be fun. If he didn't stay he was going to make a run for it. That would be fun to watch. "Not a word," Mike said.
"Then who said anything about flatmates?" he asked.
I moved to start putting on my coat. "I did. I told Mike the morning that I was a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here is just out to lunch with an old friend, clearly disowned from military service from Afghanistan. It was no difficult leap." I said quickly.
I wonder if he got any of that. "How did you know about Afghanistan?" he asked.
Ooh, now I get to show off. "Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it. We meet tomorrow evening, 7-o'clock." I said.
By now I had put on my scarf and coat. I also was finally wearing both my gloves. "Sorry. Got to dash. I left my riding crop in the mortuary." I smirked at the end of my sentence.
"Is that it?" I heard behind me.
"Is that what?" I asked.
I was giddy inside. I really wanted to tell him what he already knew. But it would be so impressive. "Well we only just met and we're going to go look at a flat?" he asked.
This one asks a lot of questions. "Problem?" I questioned.
He looked at Mike and smiled.
Johns POV
"Problem?" he asked.
I shot Mike a smile. I like this one. "We don't know anything about each other. I don't know where we're meeting. I don't even know your name." I said.
He looked at me curiously. Well, I knew a few things about him. He was scared of soulmates, played the violin, didn't talk for days on end, and very strange. "I know you're an army doctor and you've been invalid home from Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you, but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him - possibly because he's an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp is psychosomatic - quite correctly, I'm afraid. That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?" he said.
He started walking out the door. I wanted to call after him if it was a sister. I couldn't. He had surprised me. He was almost all the way out the door when he turned. "The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221b Baker Street. Afternoon," he said with a wink.
My jaw went slack. He walked out the door. I turned to Mike. "Yeah. He's always like that." He said.
I met Sherlock and 221B and we became quick friends. Our next adventure I almost killed him by being so sarcastic. His fear of soulmates almost ruined some cases. One of my favourite memories was when a girl poked Sherlock's cheek and he screamed and fell backwards. It was hilarious. He often got hurt during cases. He wouldn't let me touch him though. The only two I saw him give consent to touch was James Moriarty and Irene Alder. At the pool, he had walked over to Sherlock and grabbed his chin. Sherlock had not moved. I think it was mostly to do with me about to die. "You have such pretty eyes. Blue," he said.
Sherlock looked at him in shock. "Oh, I met mine a while ago." Moriarty chuckled.
He waved up to the roof. Sherlock just looked at him. He looked so sad for a moment. I wanted to punch Moriarty. After that, he threatened us a few more times and disappeared.
Irene was different. She couldn't keep her hands off him. I wanted to punch her too. I remember one incident. She, like Moriarty, had grabbed Sherlock's chin. "Such pretty eyes. Green," she said.
"Mine left me. Didn't want to accept the fact that she was gay," she said mournfully.
After that, she just tried to fuck Sherlock.
After that, it was the Hound of Baskerville. It was a small town but nearly everyone had a soulmate. One person mentioned his eyes. That person said silver. What colour were his eyes?
Then he jumped and I almost never got to find out. I met Mary. She was soulmates with her ex-boyfriend. They had a falling out and she dumped him. I made myself believe I loved her. She told me she didn't believe in soulmates. But I knew she did. She always made me pretend I was here whenever we met people. That's when Sherlock came back. I had attacked him. I had taken to wearing gloves when I lived with him. So I didn't touch him. That was his one rule. I was wearing gloves then too. I never really broke that habit. He was the best man at my wedding. After the wedding, Mary turned to him. "You have such nice eyes. Gold," she said.
I wanted to divorce her then.
A couple of weeks later Molly touched him. He looked so broken after she ran away crying. I wanted to hug him. I didn't.
Then there was another wedding. Mycroft and Greg. Everyone was shocked. Even Sherlock. I was happy for them.
I had tried to love her. But after she shot him. I couldn't. But I went after her anyway. I had convinced myself that I loved her. Nothing could change my mind. I barely noticed Sherlock falling apart right next to me.
Then he shot Magnussen so I could be with her. I wanted to tell him. I had fallen for him. I knew he believed in soulmates. But I never touched him. I couldn't break that rule. I had tried to love her. But after she shot him. I couldn't. But I went after her anyway.
He was being taken away from me. My love. I knew he wasn't coming back. Then Moriarty showed up on every screen in London. He came back. I almost lost him again then.
Then little Rosie came into our lives. I was so happy. I almost forgot Sherlock. But I couldn't do that. Then Mary died. I blamed him. I broke him then. I just didn't know it at the time.
Then I helped him again. That whole time he was high. It really was quite funny. At one point he fell into my arms. He lept away from me right after and turned away. He didn't see my eyes water. I almost lost him again.
Finally, we were back together. Well, then Sherlock's sister tried to murder us. When I saw the coffin I knew she wasn't talking about Molly. She looked shocked when he said, Molly. She looked me in the eye and gave me a sympathetic look. The entire time I wanted to touch him. I wanted him to feel the love I had. I didn't. And we almost died.
Finally back to Baker Street. When we arrived I hugged him. He froze with shock. But I couldn't hold back. I loved this man and wanted to be with him. He let out a gasp and I opened my eyes. I grabbed his shoulders and pushed him away from a little. I held on to him. His eyes were huge. "J-john?" he stuttered.
I saw it, colour. And my favourite was his eyes. None of them was right. It was everything. Ironically it looked like the solar system. "They were right. You do have beautiful eyes." I whispered.
He blushed. A new colour I liked. "Yours are nice too," he said.
I blinked. I had never thought about my looks really. He chuckled. "They're blue John," he said.
I blinked. "Wait right here," I said.
I rushed into the bathroom and looked into a mirror. Wow. I ran back out to see sherlock on his phone. I moved closer to see he was on the camera. "I told you they were pretty," I said.
He jumped. "I always wondered what colour they were," he whispered.
I smiled at him. He put the phone down and smiled back. I could see it in his eyes. He loved me back. I kissed him. The world was colourful and I had the best man in the world to share it with.