When a 16 year old John Watson goes to summer camp for the first time he meets some interesting new friends. One he will never forget.

"What's it like? ...Being blind, I mean?" "You'd get used to it. But God, sometimes you just want to knee some poor bastard in the groin." Sherlock's blind. John's new. Cue awkward emotional homosexual feelings towards one another. (Based of that adorably amazing short film called Eu Não Quero Voltar Sozinho)

John's never seen a kid like him. He has this beautiful, crazy grace - withheld behind a smug smile and wisecracks that make John frustrated in so many different kinds of ways. And his eyes; crystal clear, decisive, cleaning through the unimportant things to find the valuables in life. He may or may not have a thing for smoking and James Bond, his favorite ice cream is mint with a chocolate swirl, and he is absolutely addicted to Pop Rocks and toffee. He enjoys pretty boys and warehouses, where he can hoard and think and be alone. Also, bumper cars, and John Watson. But Sherlock Holmes's thing, his niche, his calling in life... is to steal. Books. Wallets. Phones. Cars. Everything you've ever wanted, he's had. Everything you've ever wished for, he's stolen. Everything you are, everything you told yourself that you weren't, he owns, and he plays you like an out-of-tune violin. Does that mean that John's going to let him steal his heart? Not a shot in hell.