oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa.

Save souls now!

John or James Watson?

Saint or Sinner?

James or John?

The more is Less?

My eyes scanned quickly over the messages Mary was showing me. "Someone sent me this. At first, I thought it was just a Bible thing, you know, spam, but it's not. It's a skip-code."

I glance up into her worried, blue eyes, surprised for a mere second, but my mind soon switches back to the task at hand. She was correct. Save...John...Watson...Saint...James...the...Less.

b-b-b-be careful making wishes in the dark, dark.

can't be sure when they hit their mark,

and besides in the mean, mean time,

i'm just dreaming of tearing you apart.

Mary's thin arms were wrapped loosely around my waist as she proceeded to check her mobile multiple times. Getting warmer, Mr. Holmes. You have about ten minutes.

8 minutes and counting.

Better hurry. Things are hotting up here...

Stay of execution. You've got two more minutes.

What a shame, Mr. Holmes. John is quite a Guy!

My heart beat faster and faster with every message. Mary's fingers were trembling, but mine were shaking even harder. It felt like every artery in my body was being ripped apart, and I could no longer breathe. Why?

i'm in the de-details with the devil

so now the world can never get me on my level.

i just gotta get you outta the cage.

i'm a young lover's rage.

gonna need a spark to ignite.

Shit is one of the curses that passes through my head as I stumble off of the motorcycle. People are screaming now as I push past them. People are realizing what--who--is in the fire.

my songs know what you did in the dark.

Guy Fawkes--a Catholic man who plotted to kill King James I because he didn't change the laws Queen Elizabeth I made against the religious group in earlier years. Fawkes made a plan to kill the king, but he was caught before the plan was put into action. Every year in England on the fifth of November, citizens were supposed to light a large bonfire to commemorate King James's survival.

This fire, ahead of me, was an English tradition. Why was John in it?

so light 'em up, up, up.

light 'em up, up, up.

light 'em up, up, up.

The wheels in my mind suddenly cease working as I practically plunge into the fire, grappling for the leather fabric of John's jacket. Fire exposes our priorities. The statement I once told Irene Adler runs through my mind as I pull, pull, pull.

i'm on fire.

"John!" Mary screams, crouching down next to him. I do the same on the opposite side, rubbing my thumb past his cheek. His eyes are closed, but soon flutter open. Like butterflies. I mentally breathe a small sigh of relief. Thank any existing Gods he survived. I wouldn't know what to do if I didn't have John.

all the writers keep writing what they write.

somewhere another pretty vein just dies.

i've got the scars from tomorrow, and i wish you could see

that you're the antidote to everything except for me, me.

"Sherlock," John mumbles, blue eyes shining like a clear blue sky on a hot summer day.

"Shh." I resist the urge to trail my fingers through his slightly charred hair, and let Mary do it instead. John's oceanic eyes stay on me the entire time, though.

a constellation of tears on your lashes.

burn everything you love, then burn the ashes.

in the end everything collides,

my childhood spat back out the monster that you see.

John starts coughing. It's a horrendous sound caused by smoke inhalation. Mary quietly comforts him, silences him as I stand, popping my collar up. I could hear sirens blaring faraway, most likely coming to get my flatmate. No. Ex-flatmate.

my songs know what you did in the dark.

I watch as John struggles to stand, holding on to Mary for stability. That could be me. {A/N goes into bad rendition of Bieber. just kidding c:} I shake the thought away immediately. John wasn't mine. He was Mary's. And he would never ever...ever be mine.

so light 'em up, up, up.

light 'em up, up, up.

light 'em up, up, up.

i'm on fire.

Three days later, John stops by. I force my parents out of 221B and swivel on my heel.

"Feeling better?" I inquire.

"A bit...smoked."

"Punny, are we?" I laugh.

"I try," John beams.

my songs know what you did in the dark.

my songs know what you did in the dark.

{A/N inserts hella instrumental crescendo}

We chat for almost an hour and a half. Not about my fake death or the fire. Just about mostly nothing of importance.

I enjoy it. Greatly.

"I should go," John eventually says, standing and stretching his arms into the air. A sliver of dark skin is shown as his jumper rides up a tad.

"Oh. Okay." I stand, too, striding to the door.

so light 'em up, up, up.

light 'em up, up, up.

light 'em up, up, up.

i'm on fire.

oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh.

in the dark, dark.

John follows closely behind me, not stopping until I open the door.

"I'll see you later, Sherlock."

"Okay." I clear my throat. "Okay."

"Okay." John tilts his head up, blue eyes meeting my grey ones. Together...they made a hurricane.

"Okay."

"Alright."

"Yes."

We both erupt into laughter.

And John leans forward.

He kisses me.

Deeply, passionately, beautifully.

"John," I whisper, pulling away, forehead against forehead, sharing each other's oxygen.

"Sherlock." He threads his fingers through my curls.

"Fire exposes our priorties."

"It does, doesn't it?"

~~who loves this song? I DOOOOO (wee ooo). Karissa221B requested this, so it's dedicated to her. she's awesome. go love her and follow her and check out her stories. they're amazing. ALSO vote, comment, fangirl. don't love me. love Patrick and Andy. like holy hell. i'm so in love. it might or might not be a problem. oh well. alsoooo if you guys have any requests, i'll gladly take them. i was also thinking of doing a oneshot competition where YOU crazy wildcats write stories! i think that could potentially be awesome, && i want your opinion on the idea. ((also, i researched the whole Guy Fawkes thing, so if i got any of it wrong, tell me. also, credit goes to Ariane Devere for writing awesome Sherlock transcripts)) lots of love, darlings! <3~~