(A/N: Back from break [me, not the show, unfortunately]. Thanks to my new beta readers hqri and ThePrincessOfDarkness!)

G: Glory/Gleam

John Watson thinks of himself as a pretty typical bloke. He would guess that others think of him that way, too. His likes, dislikes, wants, and needs - all are within the ordinary. The things John loves, however, can be summed up in a list of things that gleam:

The freshly polished buttons of an army captain's dress uniform. The newly oiled barrel of an army issue gun. The brass headstand of his own bed in his own room with the morning sun on it. A woman's glossy hair reflecting restaurant candlelight.

And Sherlock's eyes when he's just figured out the key to a case but isn't going to explain himself for two hours yet.

The human attraction to things that shine is universal. John has even heard it said that it's evolutionary, something to do with nomadic ancestors finding water by the way it sparkles in the sun. So he doesn't think it's strange to organize his wants this way: his uniform, his gun, his bed, a girl, his best friend. Glory and community, protection and security, rest and comfort, romance and sex, belonging and purpose.

But dates get cancelled because of Sherlock. Sometimes he doesn't see his bed for days. His uniform was already little more than a keepsake, because of the injury that put him in Sherlock's path in the first place, but thank God for the gun; it has saved both their lives so many times now.

Sherlock's expression when he finds a puzzle, when he invites John to come with him, has come to overpower every other thing that shines in John's life. And between one day and the next, between the eyeballs in the kitchen and the casual visits from the British Government, John realizes that he is not now, and will never again, be normal.