Fandom Oneshots [Mainly Marvel, Sherlock, and Good Omens, and House MD]

BBC Sherlock: (Johnlock) "The Words of Mine"

Darkness is light's quietness as it packs up and leaves.

Coldness is just the empty pit where warmth never strays.

Reasons, there they are there. You never fit in those molded grooves because of their radiant energy. Of course, some flames shall burn together. Yet, yet you see with your eyes which draws the gaze of bottomless hues.

He doesn't respond to 'The Iceman', but you still can understand the pools in his eyes. Grasping the shallow layer of the sky that drags into the dark and violent shade of navy, as if the ocean's harsh and tightened grip.

They used dark and cold as words to prod him.

Disagree don't you?

Do these ebony curls and well-tailored suits say? Illustrate the sky with every star away.

Do the skull's eyeless sockets speak? In a language, only you three can conceive.

Do the blades of a moon-lit hurricane pin, pin you down?

To him?

Shall I ask, if you remember? That darkness is light's quietness as it packs up and leaves, and coldness is just the empty pit where warmth never strays.

What happened to his eyes when the ice suddenly broke? Should the ocean's grasp hold you tight, weigh you down with the water's might. Yet you wish for all his health, you be warm in front of your fire's stealth, in power it holds to keep him here.

You believe you follow in his tracks when the truth is backward.

Shall you stay, shall he follow.

Because knowing when he was once drowned, in the mirror of fingers, grasping his arm. The light and the thin layer of ice. It once encased him. But should ice melt and should fire prevail, the flame's small wisps of smoke to tell, he is there and perfectly safe.

Shouldn't the doctor say?

Darkness is light's quietness as it packs up and leaves.

Coldness is just the empty pit where warmth never strays.

While that may ring true, there are some places where the two belong, side-by-side, hand in hand.

Dots are drawn on Yin and Yang.

But sometimes black and white are lies, grey smothers all the lines, like the pencil that smears its creation. Should you, you reach out and smear on his fingers, a tad bit of white paint and let the colors blend into dripping messes.

Like how darkness is light's quietness as it packs up and leaves, and coldness is just the empty pit where warmth never strays.

Your name is John Watson and mine?

My name is Sherlock Holmes.