1. Does the simple idea of his love make your head spin?

Oh god, those eyes. And those collarbones. And that pulse beating out a distinct rhythm against his pale neck. I could stare into those infinite pupils, never having to miss the stars again. I could bite those collarbones and leave marks of love for everyone to see. And that heartbeat would be my home to find comfort and warmth in.

It sends choruses of butterflies flitting down my esophagus, against my rib cage, and straight to my stomach where it mixes with the venomous acid.

He could never love a man like me.

2. Does his presence fill you with burning warmth?

It's a strange feeling to be around the strange consulting detective. He's not appreciated, and that much is plain to see.

Sherlock, the not-so-normal human creature, is one of a kind, and that is not-so-plain to see. If you looked beneath the torturous purple shirt and the intricate networks of skin and muscle and bone marrow, you'd surely find a functional beating heart that sometimes I wished only beat for me.

3. Is his smile more valuable to you than your own?

Sherlock Holmes has three types of smiles.

Number one: the fake happiness. It's used sometimes at Scotland Yard towards the officers...and Anderson. He also uses it when talking to Mycroft.

Number two: the hide-your-laughter. This particular one is used when someone is being an idiot. This is also directed mostly towards Anderson.

Number three: the "John" one. This is only used for me. It's the real actual smile of William Sherlock Scott Holmes, and Jesus, it's more beautiful than raindrops on roses combined with the light of a purple sunrise streaming through the window at five AM.

4. Are his arms the first thing you wish for on a cold winter morning?

I am sure that beneath coverings of fabric lies a gorgeous body no one has ever seen or touched. I am sure that there are ribs to be seen beneath the thin covering of skin. I am sure that there are muscles to be kissed. I am sure that Sherlock would probably push me away from him, grunting in frustration because he doesn't love me like I love him.

5. Does the thought of losing him keep you up at night?

I have wept silent tears that no one has seen because I had lost the most important person in my life. The world had lost one of the wisest and best people I ever exist in the entire universe.

He returned with a sweep of his coat and a ruffle of his hair and a kiss the size of Russia. And there. Right then. My life became whole.

"I'm not sure what love feels like, John, but I do know that the thought of losing you has kept me up every night since I've been gone. All I think about are your arms wrapped around me in the graceful, effortless way I wish for every morning. Your smile is the best I have ever seen, and I wish to just capture it in my lips. Whenever you are near me, a rush of burning warmth shoots through my body like a rocket about to crash. But your love, your love has been dreamt about for two years--"

And I kiss that lovely idiot again and again and again until I just absolutely have to breathe, and even then I just share the air he gives me because he's so addicting.

He told me once I was as worse as cocaine, and I hit him playfully, and scolded him for even saying that. And then he hugged me tightly against his chest and whispered words like smoke in freezing air, "But the difference between you and cocaine is that I would never leave you for the other." I leaned up and kissed him softly, mouths open, tongues intertwining like ribbons on Christmas presents.

"You're extraordinary," I murmured, and Sherlock had looked confused. "You're beautiful. So, so beautiful, Sherlock. How did I ever get to be so lucky?"

And it hits me. And it hits him. It's like an unannounced hurricane, but we're safe in the eye of the storm, and it's beautiful.

"How can you love me so much?"

"Because." I trace my fingertips over his blue veins.

"That's not an appropiate response."

"I wasn't finished," I whisper into his neck, dipping my tongue against his soft, warm flesh. "You were destroyed and being a destroyer, but I have it from the most reliable source that when I came along, you changed. And I think...even if you hadn't changed...I would still love you because, Sherlock, you're as vast as the universe, and just like the universe, not everything has been discovered yet. I love you because you're beautiful. Everywhere. All the time. And it drives me," I bite his ear gently, "absolutely insane."

"You're such a romantic, and I despise it," Sherlock grunts.

"And you're a sarcastic bastard that I'm hopelessly in love with."

"So we're both even then."

I laugh, and he smiles that "John smile" and I come undone.

1. Does the simple idea of his love make your head spin?

Check.

2. Does his prescence fill you with burning warmth.

Check.

3. Is his smile more valuable to you than you own?

Check.

4. Are his arms the first thing you wish for on a cold winter morning?

Check.

5. Does the though of losing him keep you up at night?

Check.

~~i honestly have no idea what i was thinking, but i hope this sounds okay??? vote, comment, fangirl, love me. this was written for the beautiful @dearwatson's oneshot competition that goes until november 30th AND YOU ALL SHOULD GO ENTER OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT. i got the love list from tumblr, as you can see from the picture at the side. *does a cool vanna white thingy* i also accidentally started a new teen!lock fic that will probably be published soon idek, but yeah. be on the look out for that. anyways, i hope school or work or life is going well for you all, and i love you. xx~~