A/N: Chemistry inaccuracies are bound to abound here. Please, take what you read with a mound of salt.
Sherlock watched the colours explode above him, a shower of sparks raining down in a variety of patterns.
"Less sulfur next time," he noted to himself, seeing the dark shade of green when he'd been aiming for a few tones lighter.
This was his art, this dance of colour and fire in the sky.
He watched the sparks fizzle themselves out into nothing and the sky reassert its darkness.
Sherlock realised that most people saw it as nothing more than a spectacle, a play of light in the sky for brief entertainment. For Sherlock, it was nothing so banal, so sentimental, as "poetry in motion" as he had heard it called by spectators and his fellow artists alike. For Sherlock, this was chemistry in action. Elements and catalysts and reactions. And in that regard, it was beautiful. Combustion always was.
"Sherlock!"
John ran up- Sherlock's current assistant from the local university, interning with Sherlock to fulfill a requirement in his graduate program. Sherlock didn't expect him to last long. He'd run through seven assistants in the last two months alone. People found him…abrasive. His attitude didn't encourage prolonged acquaintance. Was it his fault he demanded perfection and a modicum of intelligence in his assistants when it had anything to do with his craft? Honestly.
John's three weeks were already unprecedented. But Sherlock was assured that soon enough, he would leave, too. Though it would be a shame to see him go; of all of Sherlock's assistants, John was by far the least stupid.
"Not quite the green you were going for, eh?" Maybe ease off the sulfur," John continued when he reached Sherlock.
This was another thing about John. He caught on so quickly. He seemed to understand what Sherlock was going for and he helped make it happen. No one, not even Sherlock's own brother, had ever understood Sherlock's vision.
John was…fascinating.
And, while still stupid, was only marginally so.
It was something to think about, but later.
"Mm. Yes. You're right," Sherlock said to him. He didn't mention that he'd already come to the same conclusion himself. That was obvious.
And he hoped John realized just how high of a praise that was that he'd just bestowed on him. Sherlock never admitted that anyone was right. It wasn't a feat, really. So few people often were.
"Come, John. Back to the drawing board," Sherlock said before turning on his heel and heading back to his studio.
He left his equipment on the ground. It was understood that it was John's job to gather it before he followed Sherlock. Which he did, scooping up the miscellaneous tools of firework construction before trailing after the mad genius.
Just another day in the life at 221B.
A/N: It should be noted that I know nothing of how fireworks are made. It seems to me that chemistry should be involved. I'd think it'd be chemicals and such that give the fireworks their colors and whatnot. And maybe adding more or less of some certain chemical would change the color. If this is not the case, I apologize. I don't know. I tried to do a touch of research then got lazy and quit. If anyone wants to correct me, I'm all ears.
So I just had this idea in my head for Sherlock to make fireworks. I thought it sounded cool. While I don't think this will ultimately be a oneshot, I also don't have much planned for it. I'd like them to develop a relationship, though. We'll see what hits me next for Fireworks Sherlock.