Chapter One

Dr. John Watson had never paid much attention to the colors before. They were just a part of every day life; every person had an aura which reflected their true colors. Most people had two colors, but some had only one or even none at all. Those were the rare ones. A person who had no aura was either born without it (about one in two million births) or it faded away after a particularly traumatic experience. Those who lost their aura had been known to get it back, but that was rare. John hadn't heard of a case like that since he was a kid.

John's aura was a deep royal blue with light tan flecks shining sporadically from it. According to philosophers and psychologists, blue was the color of loyalty. John thought that was a load of rubbish. Everyone was always trying to find meaning in the colors. They assigned different personality traits to the colors and their appearance. They even claimed the colors would lead you to your soulmate—soulmates' colors would match in some aspect, the colors would change when you met your soulmate, a soulmate could bring the colors back to an Aura-less. And didn't Hollywood just love to play on those ideas. John, however, had never seen evidence that the auras were good for anything except showing the person's emotions.

And then Sherlock Holmes came along.

His old friend Dr. Mike Stamford had come along and offered a solution to his financial and housing issues: a flatmate. He hadn't been too keen on the idea at first but knew he needed to do something to cut down rent costs. And when Mike brought him to see Sherlock, John had to admit that he was a little dismayed at first to see that he was an Aura-less. He had only ever seen an aura-free person once in his life, and with all the prejudice that surrounded them, those societal impressions had rubbed off on him and were telling him to steer clear.

So, when Sherlock had spouted off what felt like John's whole life story within five minutes of meeting him, John was pleased. Here was someone who clearly didn't let society dictate who he was supposed to be. And when his decision to stick with it resulted in not only the cure of his tremors and limp but also the most fun he'd had in the past six months, he became even more convinced that the auras were pointless. Here was a man without an aura—a condition society said meant that he should be mentally, emotionally or psychologically deficient—and he was the smartest, most interesting person John had ever met. John had asked him early on whether he was born without an aura or if it had faded away. The only reply he got was: "I've always been like this."

Sherlock, it seemed, was also indifferent to auras. According to him, the only use they served was to aid his investigations.

"An aura is an open book to those who know how to read it," Sherlock had once told him. "You can tell a lot about a person's mental state from their aura."

And from the deductions he would tell John about people and their auras, John had to admit he was right. The appearance, color and movements of the auras did more than just show off the emotions. They were basically an extension of the soul.

John had felt a pull towards Mrs. Hudson at once. Her aura was a lavender with rose red shimmers almost like sparkles, which spoke of her warm, loving nature and her brave tenacity all at once.

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade had also made an impression during their first meeting in that old building in Lauriston Gardens, not least of which was because he had an unusual pale orange aura with white lines dancing across it. The man seemed to be the only person on the police force who could even begin to put up with Sherlock.

Which was why John disliked Donovan and Anderson so much.

Anderson—whose solid olive green aura—seemed to draw his bitterness from some sort of archaic alpha-male rivalry. Or perhaps he was simply trying to win Donovan's favor by jumping on the hate-Sherlock bandwagon? And Donovan…well, her nauseating neon green with shocking, highlighter-pink spikes said it all. Her aura was enough to put anybody off, and it showed in her personality. She was the most disagreeable, acerbic, bitter woman John had met in a long time. It was obvious where it came from: Sherlock. She was extremely bitter about the fact that Sherlock had waltzed in and upstaged her as a detective with hardly any effort.

And then there was Moriarty. Sherlock and John had met him less than a year after moving in together. John had never met anyone that was able to change the color of their aura before, but then, he had never met a psychopath before. Moriarty had so thrown himself into the roll of "Jim from I.T." that he had even matched his emotions and mind to the role—method acting at its finest—and had appeared as a sky blue with dancing purple sparks. So, when he had stepped into that pool room with his churning black aura, it had taken John a moment to recognize him.

So, as John continued to help Sherlock solve cases, he was indeed coming to understand and respect auras more. It was amazing how telling an aura could be. He was also learning that society and Hollywood weren't too far off base with their analysis of colors. Not only had he proven his blue loyalty in great measure through his association and friendship with Sherlock, but other people's colors were proving to show their unique personality traits. Red for courage and brazenness; purple for nobility or profoundness; gold for purity or innocence; black for a dark or damaged soul; pink for love. Those were the most consistent colors; the meanings didn't always fit the person, but more often than not, they did: Molly Hooper with her gold aura and pink swirls, Irene Adler with her crimson aura and black streaks, and John's girlfriend-turned-wife Mary with her red aura and tan flecks (similar to John's own tan flecks).

He and Sherlock had been through quite a lot in the six years they had known each other. Moriarty had driven Sherlock to fake his death for two years, something in which Sherlock's lack of aura had been an extremely useful tool (if he'd had an aura, it would have kept shining around him, thus giving away the fact that he wasn't actually dead). Charles August Magnussen (whose sickly yellow aura had writhed like it was full of maggots) had come along, blackmailing Mary and causing a temporary rift between her and John due to her lies (and the fact that she had shot Sherlock to save her own skin). During those long months that he had moved back into Baker Street, his aura had darkened to a solid, murky, navy blue. And then, there had been their daughter Rosie, her light pink aura with its gold swirls bringing happiness to both of their lives.

But then, he had lost Mary to a bullet, which she had taken to save Sherlock. John's aura had faded to a barely-visible pastel blue cloud that rumbled with navy blue thunder whenever he saw, talked to or thought about Sherlock. Fortunately, Culverton Smith had come along. Although he extremely disliked the monstrous creep of a serial killer, the man had done what John had thought impossible: mended his and Sherlock's relationship. He had done so by nearly killing Sherlock, but still (the obsidian aura with violent, blood red spikes should have been a dead giveaway).

And then came Eurus. John supposed he should have made the connection sooner. He meets an Aura-less girl on the bus, and then just a few months later, his therapist also has no aura? He had been—in the words of Sherlock—way too slow. However, this was Sherlock's sister. Was it any wonder that she could trick him so well? And just like Sherlock, she had been born with no aura. Thank goodness Sherlock hadn't gone the same way.

Because, while Sherlock claimed to be a sociopath (high-functioning), John didn't believe a word of it. He had seen the emotion in Sherlock too many times to believe it. He had seen Sherlock's slight panic as he fought to untie Sarah in the den of the Black Lotus. He had witnessed the hurt—the betrayal—when John had stepped out of the door into the pool. He had seen the pain in his demeanor at Irene Adler's supposed death (until they had discovered she was alive on New Years' Eve, and it had obviously perked up Sherlock's attitude). He had seen the fear in his eyes after he had been drugged at Dewer's Hollow. He had been yelled at in Sherlock's anger that Moriarty was trying to make John think he was a fake. He had heard the catch—the tremor—in Sherlock's voice as he had lied to John on the roof and said goodbye. No, John had observed too many times that Sherlock possessed a heart just the same as anyone who had an aura.

But John had never seen him overreact—truly overreact—until the day Molly Hooper was kidnapped.