Johnlock oneshots

âme soeur

(My prompt? ive just marathonned the entire first season of sense8 in a day. My favourite character? All.Of.Them. Tw: mentions of abuse, rape and probs some death)

Saudade- Portuguese, the vague and constant desire for something that does not, and probably can not, exist.

Yuanfen- Chinese, a relationship by fate or destiny, the binding force between two people.

..........................................

Sherlock wasn't sure quite when it started, just that he had always been there, watching. Protecting. He seemed to be real. He aged alongside Sherlock, he wore different clothes each time he appeared, his voice changed. All things that pointed to him being a real person. So why could no one else see him? Why, when he spoke about the blond haired boy, did everyone dismiss him as an apparition?

When Sherlock was younger, not quite five to be exact, he had asked about the boy by the beach. His mother had laughed, telling Sherlock to invite his imaginary friend in to join them for dinner. She didn't listen when Sherlock insisted that he wasn't imagining him. That he couldn't've possibly have made him up. He was too...real. No one had listened of course. No one ever did.

By the time Sherlock had reached nine, his father had had enough. He screamed and screamed at him. Told him he was too old to be playing these silly games now. Sherlock tried to tell him but...well, his father was always prone to violence after a drink. That night was the first time they spoke. Sherlock remembered it so clearly

.....................

Sherlock sat, crumpled up in bed sheets, hiding from the dark of his room. His lip throbbed with pain and that only served to make his eyes water more. Why did no one ever listen? Why did no one understand? The night sky was clear and dark, the stars the only source of light, making the tears on his cheek glisten like early morning dew.

'Where am I?'

Sherlock bolted upright, wiping his cheeks with angry embarrassment. A boy stood in the corner of the room, looking from left to right with wide eyes. He wore a baggy red jumper and pyjama bottoms that were two sizes to big, by the looks of it.

'One minute I was asleep and then...' the boy looked towards Sherlock and tilted his head 'What happened to your face?'

'Who are you? You shouldn't be here!' Sherlock shouted angrily, the stupid boy was the cause of all of this.

'You really should get that checked out' the boy walked towards the bed and sat on the side of it, feet dangling slightly above the floor 'My mama always says that you need to check cuts 'cause they might get infec...infecte...infecteded.' The boy struggled around the word for a bit before grinning lopsidedly 'My name's John by the way'

'I don't care what your name is! And I don't care what your mama says, I want to know why you're in my room!' Sherlock whispered irritably.

'I don't know!' John shook his head at Sherlock 'I already told you that. You should be more nicer. My mama always says'-

'Would you shut up?!' Sherlock hissed and then regretted it, his lip flowing with blood again. John looked at him worriedly.

'Here' he grabbed the damp flannel off the bedside table 'I know how to clean bad lips. When my daddy gets angry he hits me and my sister and my mama all the time. Mama says its 'cause he was in the army and he got sick because he saw bad things. My auntie says its cause he's an...an..' John lowered his voice to a whisper 'an asshole'

Both boys burst into a fit of giggles. Sherlock suddenly wasn't so angry at John being in his room anymore, it was nice to have someone to clean up his bad lip so it didn't get infecteded and to giggle with. John handed him back the damp towel, now covered in blotches of blood. Sherlock opened his mouth to say something when-