A/N: Hello, people!

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Sherlock Holmes did not often feel the emotion of love. In fact, any form of it was lost to him. Except perhaps, Mycroft's ever watchful eyes, insuring him mostly safe passage anywhere and everywhere. If that could be considered love.

The whole soulmate business was ridiculous. Being unable to see the world in full color. Only being able to see it in the shade of your own eye color, until you met your soulmate, was a disturbance to his Work! He had important things to do.

Of course, Sherlock had it a bit easier than most others. He had heterochromia iridis, meaning his eyes were multiple colors. Specifically, Sectoral Heterochromia, allowing his eyes to vary between green, blue, and gold on a constant basis. More like blue with splotches of green and gold, but it didn't truly matter.

In his eyes, the world was a swirl of three colors and it sometimes made things difficult. Other times it was like a blessing. Everything that was blue, appeared blue. Everything that was gold appeared gold. And of course green for green. But the rest, was like a swirl. A vortex of color and caused problems more often then not.

He was nearly thirty and had yet to meet his soulmate, Mycroft didn't meet his until he was thirty however. Lestrade was able to make Mycroft less annoying, if only a little. Though Mycroft did not act as if seeing the world in color was suddenly a much better lifestyle.

Sherlock had seen it.

Seen couples realize that they were soulmates. He'd also seen some who could not stand their soulmates and went on to live their lives as any normal idiot would. Sherlock knew that if he had a soulmate, they'd most likely be an idiot and he refused to allow them to come in between him and his Work. The Work was important to his mind, his livelihood, and his existence. No one, not even a soulmate, would come between that.

Sherlock had known that he was gay. It had been a rather dull discovery in university and had few experiments when it was ruled out. Sherlock rarely indulged in sex and was perfectly happy with not having it. It have never been that great for him and he saw no need for multiple repeat performances.

Still, Sherlock was homosexual. He could at least appreciate the aesthetics of the men around him, even if he never sampled the wares.

So with his sexuality explicitly sectioned off, why did his soulmate end up being a woman? An annoying one at that?

Molly Hooper was infatuated and it was annoying. She had clearly seen in color the first time they met, much like he had, but he very quickly shot down her offer for coffee. He even expressly stated that females did not interest him sexually and that he was not looking for a relationship.

She'd been saddened and threw herself into one relationship after the other, seemingly dating men that all resembled Sherlock to an extent. Obviously not as intelligent.

Sherlock then met John Watson and for a brief moment of looking at the stout army doctor, his vision suddenly retreated to only three colors again and he had to look away and then back just as quickly, to see if anything changed. But no, everything with in color once more and he put the reaction in a small box in his mind palace, packed away for later study.

John was a little bent. Not broken, but certainly chipped. Missing a few pieces that outwardly would detract from his value to others. For Sherlock, he was perfect. Or at least, as near perfect as one could ever hope to achieve.

He liked danger. The thrill of the chase. He thought Sherlock's deductions were 'amazing' and 'extraordinary'. He was aesthetically pleasing to look at and seemed very… cuddly. Loyal, and not as much of an idiot as everyone else.

Somehow, they made it work as flatmates. John being the only person to stand being with Sherlock for more than a week. And it was fun!

John saved his life. They went on cases. He cured John's psychosomatic limp. John blogged about their cases. John was kind and tolerant to a point. Sherlock liked John a lot. No one could measure up to him. Ever.

Even past Irene and Moriarty, John stayed. And Sherlock knew that John was jealous - if at least subconsciously - over Irene's interest in Sherlock. And really, how was it not jealousy when he was counting how many times Irene would send Sherlock a text?

John was so… predictably unpredictable. He never did the expected. He hadn't even assumed Sherlock to be the murderer during their first case!

Sherlock knew he was difficult, but he wouldn't trade any of their days together. It was nice to have a… friend. Yes. John was his friend.

Leaving had been the worst thing that could happen. Sherlock threw himself into his new Work, in order to save John's life. It didn't matter that people thought him a fake and a fool. He had to get rid of the threat on John's life. That was what was important.

And not once did he notice his vision dimming and the myriad of colors around him, becoming dull.

John Watson had a condition known as Central Heterochromia. This was to say that his eyes were mostly blue in color, but had a different ring of color around the center of the iris. In his case, he had brown and grey circling his pupil. Because of this, his eye color varied from blue, to grey, and then to brown.

Because of this, John's vision tended to switch between colors, depending upon the lighting around him. If he was in the dark, things tended to be some shade of brown. If he was in the shade, things would take on a grey tint. And if he was out in the sun, the world around him would look blue.

John was one of the few people able to see multiple colors. He thought it was a blessing. And it was really cool.

His whole life, people complained about how he could see better than them. About how he had 'cooler eyes' than they did.

John had never met another person with Heterochromia, until he met Sherlock Holmes.

John had recently been invalided home form Afghanistan when they met. Both looking for a flatshare. And within two days of meeting, they were moved in and John was introduced to Sherlock's crazy life.

Yes, he was minutely attracted, but Sherlock preferred to concentrate on 'his Work', so he dropped his interest and pursue others. Not meeting his soulmate yet hadn't bothered him in the least. He'd always operated under the impression that the moment he met his soulmate, he'd have to drop everything for them. And he didn't like that thought. Until meeting Sherlock, John had been under the impression that people had to be with their soulmates.

But then Sherlock admitted to little Molly Hooper being and soulmate and him feeling no positive affection for her. John wouldn't have to give up his life even for his soulmate. That made him happy. Relieved even.

John liked to date. He liked doing fun things. Being tied down to some random person all because of some soulmate rag, didn't seem too appealing.

Many a time he lamented over the fact that Sherlock wasn't interested, because he'd be a good boyfriend. Despite what New Scotland Yard and all those annoying people who didn't appreciate him, thought. Sherlock was amazing and John could picture them together in any way.

John had been jealous over Irene. He'd tried to act like he didn't know it, but he did. He couldn't begin to describe his joy at her departure from their lives! She was an annoying twit who tried to claim that she and Sherlock were soulmates, but the consulting detective shot her down quickly with Molly as proof.

John was baffled at how blind Sherlock was to all the people that hit on him. Sherlock thought that he just couldn't help but be amazed all the time, but John was actually trying to show Sherlock how amazing he was. Since no one else was willing to do it.

And then Moriarty took Sherlock away. It was all his fault and John knew it. And the day Sherlock jumped, was the day John's vision dimmed, until he could barely see at all. Because his light was gone.

John was given a few months of joy, when he met his soulmate. Mary Morstan. He never thought he'd actually like his soulmate, but she was something else. Very open-minded about his past. She was understanding. They dated immediately, which had worried John because of his former reservations regarding soulmates.

But Sherlock was dead so it wasn't like he had anything to hold out for. But he did notice that while he could see in full color now, the world wasn't as bright a place as he always thought it would be.

Fighting again.

They were always fighting these days.

Mary wanted to get married, but John just wasn't comfortable with the idea yet. Something just kept him from agreeing. Kept him stalling his answer for the time being.

He didn't want to get married yet, and that was that.

It had been a muggy Sunday evening. John and Mary were out to dinner. John had glanced at the door like usual, an ingrained reflex from years of military service. And his dimmed color, was suddenly blaring. And everything around him was suddenly bright and more lively than before.

And there, in the center of his vision, stood an extremely tall figure, clad in Belstaff coat and a scarf. But what held his attention, were the two eyes that were so familiar to him, despite not seeing them in full color until now.

Sherlock.

John had felt no embarrassment as he shifted out of his chair and dashed across the restaurant in order to throw his arms around his friend. Alive and well. Sherlock was alive.

From this distance, he could even see the rainbow of color in the consulting detective's eyes.

Amazing eyes, he realized.

Sherlock smiled down at him and the two merely stood there, grinning at each other like idiots.

"Where have you been?" John asked in awe.

"Well, the cabbie took a wrong turn and the route was fraught with danger at every moment. I'm surprised that I made it at all."

"He's the reason."

The two men turned to see Mary, standing there with her arms crossed. She was looking at John, a sad look on her face. "He's the reason you won't marry me, isn't he?"

John's jaw dropped.

She was right. It was Sherlock. That was why he felt uncomfortable marrying her. She wasn't Sherlock.

"Fine," she shrugged. "You'll be moved out by Monday, then?"

Sherlock answered for him. "He'll be gone by tonight. Mycroft has already moved everything."

John turned and swiftly socked him on the arm. "Oh, and you just knew that I was going to say yes, huh?"

"Obviously," Sherlock murmured, rubbing away the pain in his arm.

John sent Mary an apologetic look. "I'm sorry."

"To be honest, I was expecting it at some point in the future. It's just a bit sad." She patted his cheek twice. "You're a good man, John."

The two watched her leave, and John had to sock Sherlck in the arm again when he said, "It's good. She was a liar anyway."

"That's my soulmate."

"So? I have no feelings for mine, so it doesn't matter."

"She's a good woman either way. Leave her be."

"Fine. Now, will you kindly like to finish your meal with me?"

"You better eat or so help me…"

Sherlock gave him a peck on the lips. "I am feeling rather peckish, so yes, I will eat this night."

"Just not any other night," John mumbled.

"That depends," Sherlock smirked.

"On?"

"On whether I've worked up a good enough appetite, John."

Sherlock was smirking suggestively and John flushed.

"Perverted git."

And John had only to wonder, how Sherlock made the color brighter.

Sherlock too couldn't help but wonder how the cuddly doctor managed to make his colors return.

A/N: Finished!

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