A friend. John Watson had many friends throughout his life. There were his school friends in his childhood, his university mates, and his army chums. He enjoyed the time spent with each of them, but he never fully expressed himself. He would laugh with his friends at the pubs, but he never felt at home. Some of his friends soon fell into typical patterns and settled into a calm life. Others acted like they were still in university. He became anxious and steadily removed himself from these groups. Afghanistan gave him the chance to work in an environment that was forever changing. War was hell, but it kept him on his toes.

He didn't keep in touch with his old school friends while he was at war. Their lives no longer interested him. John kept some contact with Harry, but only when she remembered to write him first. The shot to the shoulder ended the adventure. The nightmares began, and he developed a limp. He returned home to no laughter or tears of welcome. He was welcomed with silence at the airport. Harry had forgotten to pick him up. John was alone in a city that was now foreign to him.

Sherlock brought him back to life. The adventures never ended, and the unexpected became the norm. John woke up every morning wondering who would visit their flat that day. People from all over the country came to Sherlock for help, and John was amazed at his flatmate's intelligence. Sherlock would try his patience at times, but there were the few surprising moments that he would be compassionate. No longer alone, John had a friend.

A friend. Friends were something that Sherlock Holmes never had in his life. Mycroft was always busy, leaving his brother to learn and grow up on his own. He had his classmates in school, and his colleagues that he met in his job, but there was never anybody that he would consider to be a friend. He was ignored and left alone. He could hear the whispers around him saying he was 'weird' and a 'freak'. People would be fed up with his detective work, and often told him that he had no filter. Sherlock never saw the point in having a filter as it only made things hidden.

Drugs made life interesting. He began to use cocaine and morphine habit while he was at university. Money was spent on various tobacco products. It was only when Lestrade discovered his small drug stash that he quit his illegal drug use. Various laws prohibited smoking, so he turned to nicotine patches for stimulation. He lived alone in his small flat, assisting others. He never expected to be thanked for his work. He just did it to pass the time.

John added a component in his life that he never thought necessary. John was patient, and he didn't judge him. Sherlock soon found himself adapting to John's way of living. Life was no longer dull and atrocious. With John, he began to see the beauty in the smallest things. John made him laugh, and with his help, he ended his commitment to the patches. When his flatmate smiled, the world was better. No longer alone, Sherlock had a friend.