A/N: For unamusedelipsis on Tumblr for donating Gaia gold to me when I needed it! Thanks again, my dear! :D

Note: features my headcanon based on the first couple seconds of John's nightmare in Study In Pink where, at the end, it sounds like he's shouting, "Sebastian!" so in my headcanon, he and Moran were in the army together. :3

Words prompted by unamusedelipsis and provided by the Tumblr blog otherwordly.

01. Johnlock. Eunioa – beautiful thinking; a well mind.

There is ebb and a flow to Sherlock's thoughts, though they accumulate and spill out so quickly that no one can decipher the easiness of the pattern to them. But after spending years with Sherlock, John has come to appreciate the natural direction of Sherlock's way of thinking.

It's taken him a long while, but finally, he thinks he can see the beauty of those thoughts; not just the cold, calculating dissection of facts, not solely the blunt and often speedy delivery of them, but also the aqueous direction those thoughts take, slipping and streaming into one another in a perfectly logical manner, akin to the path of a river to the sea, knowing how and where to cut corners through land and when to hurry the thoughts along, and when to let them slowly dribble out.

It's a wonderfully sound way of thinking, John concurs. He used to think Sherlock's mind was sporadic and like a train wreck because of the way Sherlock described his thinking process once or twice, but upon further reflection, John finds that isn't exactly true. Sherlock's mind is better put together than that.

It's like art: it can look strange to one person and lovely to another. That's what Sherlock's mind is: strange to others, but gorgeous to John. Sherlock merely uses it as a tool and fails to see the loveliness he holds in his cranium, but it's o matter, because John is always around to remind him.

02. MorMor. Susurrus – a low, soft sound, as of whispering or muttering, or a quiet wind; a soft rustling.

Jim Moriarty is never gentle. That cannot be a word used to describe his personality. However, it can be used to describe his voice. His voice can lower to susurrus levels, all whispers and rustles in the breeze, like falling leaves on a gentle late-summer night. It completely contrasts with his ill-tempered, hardly sane state of being; how can someone so jagged and selfish and cruel speak so delicately, so sweetly?

But the contradiction only makes him that more acute, because it strengthens his manipulations and sharpens his breath, the whispers sharp enough to sluice through even the thickest of minds.

Moran is keenly aware of this. He does his best to avoid Jim's susurrus tones, because they are the most deadly. Those breathy mutters can erect the hairs on the arms and necks of even the most stoic of men, and while Moran is highly callous, even he isn't immune to those seductive whispers, because Jim's lips will buzz along the shell of Moran's ear as he coils around him like a the devil in serpent form, hissing softly all his demands, varying from the sexual to the murderous.

But the worst one Moran has ever heard in that gentle, soothing voice was, "Kill Doctor John Watson if Sherlock Holmes lives."

Because, though he didn't dare voice it, Moran knew Captain Watson from the British forces, and he didn't much fancy the idea of killing a fellow countryman who served the same time he had. Still, demands are demands, and he can't ignore them as they are murmured directly into his ear.

03. MorMor. Matutine – just before the dawn.

The dim, dark blue hour just before dawn breaks is Sebastian's favorite time of the day.

While he can kill a target at any time of day and not be seen, a majority of his kills happen late at night when most people are asleep anyhow, just to be quiet, safe, and convenient. So after a kill, Sebastian drags himself home, to his flat, and more often than not, he finds his boss waiting for him to give him a paycheck and, if his boss is in the mood for it, sex.

But it's after the sex, after the missions, just in that pre-twilit hour that Sebastian treasures, because it's the only time when his boss is demure. He becomes quiet, soft, moderately tender, and human. Tension and power-hungry nature abandoned, he is like a normal lover for the briefest of moments before the light of day rears its ugly head, and causes Jim to become his cold-hearted self once more, untangling his limbs from around Sebastian as the daylight breaks, collecting his clothes, showering, and leaving again as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't kissed the back of his sniper's neck and held him close for a few minutes.

04. Johnlock. Fanaa – destruction of the self; "destroyed in love."

I will kill myself. I will fall, I will bleed, and I will crumble and blow away. I will be buried, rotted, and I will be cold and damp. I will die, vanish from the Earth, wither and succumb to pain and misery and loneliness and heartbreak.

Because I love John Hamish Watson, and I can't stand the thought of Moriarty winning, succeeding in killing John and everyone I can come to care for, just because I am too prideful to die.

05. MorMor. Novaturient – desiring or seeking powerful change in one's life, behavior, or situation.

"I need one, Seb. I need one badly."

"One… what, Boss?"

"A change! Something huge, something… powerful, corrupt, drastic. I need things to change in my life or I might drive myself up a wall and never come down!"

"Sir –"

He sighs. "How many times must I remind you, Seb? Call me Jim. I won't kill you for calling me by my name. I might kill you if you keep calling me 'boss' and 'sir', as a matter of fact. We're at the head of a web of crime, not a mob."

"Jim," he corrects himself, readdressing the other. "What could be big enough of a change to do all that? You've been pretty content with the way of things for a while now. Isn't everything going according to plan?"

"Yes, of course it is, but that's what's so boring about it! I need a challenge. I need something to distract me from the plotted perfect, something to throw me off-guard and stand up to my level of wit and intricacy."

"You mean, like… a rival? Aren't the police your rivals in crime?"

A groan. "No, no, no, a billion times no! The English police are fools. So are the Irish and the Scottish and the Welsh police, and even the forces of the Americans and the French. The Russians aren't bad, they sometimes get on my trail, but outside of them, everyone is too lazy or incompetent! I need a real crime-chaser, someone who can get to me, or come close."

"…You're not saying you want to get caught, do you? Jim, they… they'd kill you. You'd be put to death with the string of crimes you've made."

"Precisely. Isn't that thrilling? I need someone to get close so I can feel the sweet, stressful tug of teetering on the edge of life and death. Death isn't boring; it's the world's biggest mystery." He changes his pitch to a whiny falsetto to mock the chorus of the human race, "'Where do we go when we die?' 'What sort of impact does it make on others?' And so on. To be close enough to that to taste it… I want that. That is the sort of change I need."

"But…"

"And I will have it, Seb. I will have it even if I have to create it myself, even if I have to drop hints and play games more than usual."

A weighted sigh. "All right, fine. But where will you start, si- I mean, Jim?"

"…With Sherlock Holmes, of course."

06. Johnlock. Meraki – to do something with soul, creativity, or love; to put something of yourself into your work.

With everything he does, Sherlock does it with meraki. That, if you are unaware, is essentially putting your heart and soul into what you do. I've searched for the right word for a while, and now I've found it, and it fits perfectly for Sherlock, I think.

Here, let me start with a general description of how Sherlock works, since, even through all of these blog posts I've made, I don't think anyone quite knows.

Sherlock, when on a case, deals with people in any way necessary to get the information he needs. But it's unique to each case and person, because, as inconsiderate as people think he is, Sherlock can read people and know them better than their closest relatives and friends know them, and can act accordingly. Even when Sherlock is putting on a façade to bend the way they perceive him so they tell him what he needs to hear, Sherlock does it specifically so that it effects that person just right.

It's manipulative, yeah, and a bit like lying, but in the same token it's almost… I don't know, justified? Because Sherlock does these things to aid the process of his case, but also with the other people in mind. And even while he is acting unlike himself, Sherlock is being himself by extracting information from others. (That makes sense, doesn't it? I can't explain it much better, and Lord knows I have tried, at least for Harry's sake.)

Anyway, the time Sherlock is putting the most effort into his acting skills is, true enough, the moments he is being least like himself, putting the least amount of soul into his work. But when he isn't trying so hard, when he's just… around the flat, playing his violin, thinking, being still or quiet, and sipping idly at his tea or coffee… Those are the moments he truly shines, I think. Those are the times the meraki shows the most.

Because while Sherlock slips in a piece of himself into every second of the day, more-so than I do when I am mindlessly checking people in the doctor's office or riding home in a taxi, he reveals the most amount of creativity and love in what he does when he is bouncing between places on a case and playing his violin, sipping something warm.

I'm not putting this very well, am I? It's difficult to capture Sherlock. I try time and time again, and even through the years I have known him, I can never quite place him exactly. I just know that there is a spark there, a light, something that radiates off of Sherlock from the inside-out that is that meraki, what I'm talking about. His quick thinking makes him creative. His passion shows his interest and love for what he does. And it's all to do with wit, yes, the cleverness of a killer or robber or Sherlock himself, but it's also to do with soul.

Sherlock has a lot of soul, I think. A lot of heart. Others don't see it because they are looking too hard at the way he extracts information out of them, or the way he uses people to get his means. They only see the fragments of a not-quite-Sherlock. But I'm his flatmate, and best mate; I've seen every side of him, every last one. I don't see the fragments, not anymore; I see the collective whole.

And there is a lot to be had there, let me tell you. Sherlock is… complicated, more-so than most people, but that's what makes him almost glow, and why, truth be told, my life would be – and was, for the span of about three years – utterly dull and listless without him in it.

(And, okay, I admit that what I said sounds a bit romantic, but not… not romantic in the I-love-him sense of the word. Uh. It's more like… romantic in the wistful, adventurous sense of the word, like the way films are? And I don't mean to falsify it like that, make Sherlock sound like something out of fiction, and make the way I admire him sound… weird. I only mean…

(I mean that I have fun with Sherlock. I love chasing criminals, even if I get lost in the tailspin of the chase sometimes, even if I know I'm nowhere near as clever as Sherlock. I only mean that, with him, I don't feel so useless anymore, not as much as a washed-up solider and doctor. I have purpose, something to put my own "meraki" into, you know? I just… care about Sherlock, that's all. He's my best friend; I'd be hurt if I lost him again. That's all I mean, really, about him shining and all that.

(And this whole last bit in parenthesis is for you, Harry, sister-dear. I know how you love to twist my meanings in my posts to make it sound… sound like I'm in love with my flatmate or something, which is entirely off-base, thank you. So shut up and just know that I mean what I mean, not what you think I mean.

(So that's… Yeah, that's all I have so say about that.)

07. Johnlock and MorMor. Casuistry – deceptive or excessively subtle reasoning.

John tilts back in his chair and brings his coffee cup to his lips. "Sherlock is full of casuistry. There's no other way to explain it."

Sebastian blinks and frowns. "Sorry, Mr. Author, but I've no clue what that word means."

John chuckles. "Deceptive, subtle reasoning, Moran. That's what it means." He smiles, takes the sip he meant to after speaking the first time.

John's comrade nods slowly, understandingly. "Ah, okay. Yeah, Jim's got that, too. I never know what he's thinking, really. It's all cleverly-dropped hints and stuff. The way he thinks is in riddles to me, it feels like. Took me forever to get him to be direct about it, tell me that all this time he was sayin' he wanted to be with me."

John snorts. "I know how that is. I've felt that way about Sherlock for longer than I'd like to admit – and that was the hardest part, too, admitting that I feel that way about him at all – but it happens that he's wanted to be with me since we met, really, or near that time anyhow, and has been dropping subtle hints all this time, reasoning out that I'll pick up on it when I didn't, and… yeah, the rest is history. I'm just saying I know how you feel. It's the same with me."

Sebastian nearly smiles behind the rim of his own mug. Nearly. "Man, how did we get stuck with a couple of lunatics?"

"We're just lucky, I guess," John remarks with a content smile as he hums into his mug and takes in another mouthful of coffee, feeling it slide warm and easy down his throat, milky and unsweetened, just right. This place has the best coffee (apart from home).

Sebastian does smile this time, and as he does, he shrugs and adjusts the collar of his jacket. "It takes some getting used to, but now I can't imagine my life without the nutcase in it. Jim's a bit loony, and sometimes I want to punch him in his smug little face, but he's also incredibly brilliant and, I dunno, charming, and I can't say I don't love the guy for it, 'cause then I'd be lying."

"Hmm, same here, mate," John nods in agreement. "Same here."