A/N: This is based off MusicChibi's 500-word prompt competition, and because I'm a masochist (and friend's with her), I've decided to take it upon myself to do ALL 500. WITH FOUR DIFFERENT SERIES (technically three, but I'm doing two with one), and I may add more (series), so I'm just setting myself up for disaster. Oh well. Basically, there are 500 single-word prompts you can choose from, and there's a set word limit (minimum of 100, maximum of 1,000, &c.), and I've decided to do all 500, so wish me luck! I'm going to post these on the original site this competition is posted on, which is
asianfanfics .com/story/view/158312/write-like-the-wind-challenge-random-writing-writingchallenge-prompt
So, let's get to it with the Sherlock 500! (Sounds like a race!)
1. Flawless
There was something about Sherlock's hands that made John think flawless, because if you really looked, they were flawless. There were slight blemishes from multiple chemical spills and scars from straying knives and needles, but there was also milk-pale skin that stretched into long violinist's fingers, carefully manicured nails, and graceful movements that made John horribly jealous, causing him to stare with disdain at his own small, stubby-fingered hands.
Sherlock thought John's hands were the most flawless things he'd ever seen—in fact, everything about John was flawless: his hands that held so much warmth, that helped others when sick or dying, that have pulled the trigger, pulled the trigger to protect him of all people—he, who deserved no such thought and care; his small stature, which fit so easily and perfectly in comparison to his own much taller figure; his butter-wouldn't-melt appearance which led many of their adversaries to think he was weak and worthless, both of which he most definitely was not; his jumpers, which, on any other person, would look so horrendously off-putting, but on John just looked right; and John, John, John. John was flawless, and Sherlock would look at his reflection in the mirrour every morning and think he was worthless compared to this man. And he would walk out, walk away from the needle and its chemical substance resting accusingly on the rim of the sink only because, though Sherlock was worthless, John still stayed, and that had to count for something, right?