Love is a disadvantage. At least that's what Sherlock's older brother Mycroft has always told him. Sherlock tries his damnedest not to love John. But he can't help just needing John. All. The. Time. John has always felt that way, and tries so hard to hide it. Sherlock's perfect angel carved cheekbones, his charcoal black curls, his seductive lanky body structure, and it's not just his looks, it's how he talks, how mysterious and sensitive he is, just everything about him drives John wild. Both men start to find it very hard to hold it in, but neither succeed.

It all started with a trip. Sherlock had been acting weird, and everyone thought he was just stressed, so he and John go on a trip to Fiji. Yet, what was supposed to be a relaxing vacation from the stresses of detective work only opened the door for much more stress and confusion when John begins to have strange feelings around his colleague, Sherlock Holmes. And Sherlock is still acting strange.

“I’m starting to think letting you into my home wasn’t such a good idea.” “Oh it was probably the worst thing you’ve ever done.” There was a moment’s pause before he spoke again. “Do you regret it?” “Not one bit.”

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.

He is lavish. Masterful. Intellectual, inexplicable, overt. Sexual. Sherlock Holmes defines extravagance. He isn't exactly the best thing for John's tireless, bland stability. John works the nine to five and tries not to lose sleep over the small things - like the labor of his fiancée's expectations, and the sirens that fill his head with noise after curfew. He finds comfort in art, and drinking. Besides the war making its presence known, slowly creeping its black tendrils into the heart of Bristol - John's life is quiet. Given that, he's not surprised when he is dragged into Sherlock Holmes's orbit. There is no manual to help him navigate the moment their eyes first meet; he presents himself as the perfect distraction, a beautiful incendiary miracle. John thinks that maybe he was hoping for this, because: Sherlock is potent, and inflammatory, and perfectly willing to make John's life hell for his own self-indulgent pleasure. With one touch, John's sense of self is corrupted. And what does it matter if the world implodes? It was never kind to them to begin with.

Darkness. Definition: Sherlock Holmes Light. Definition: John Watson look at the stars. look how they shine for you. and everything you do. it was all yellow.