When the moon fell in love with the sun
All was golden in the sky
All was golden when the day met the night

Darkness covered the land, clothing the Garden in black. He enjoyed the Garden like this; quiet and peaceful. There wasn't another soul in the garden, which made him happy. He hated to share his Garden, though he knew it wasn't his. It only belonged to him at night time, when the moon shone in the sky. During the day it belonged to the Sun, and to all his friends. Though he had never met the Sun, he was sure he would loath him. He hated everyone else, it only seemed logical that he would hate his complete opposite as well.

He was, after all, the Moon.

Sherlock walked to the middle of the garden, laying on the cool grass. The green umbrella trees swayed overhead, night-time turning them an inky black to match the surroundings. He smiled to himself, taking a deep breath as the cool wind finally reached his skin. How glorious it was to be alone.

But it wasn't glorious. Not that Sherlock would ever admit that. He would talk at length about how wonderful it was to be the only true focus in the night sky. How lovely it was to outshine the stars, to blot out the other pinpoints of light in the night. He would scoff openly about the Sun, who shined his light for everyone, washing the earth in light. Why would he choose to shine all his light? Did it not get boring for people to look at everything, not just him? The Sun, Sherlock decided, must be an idiot. It was much better to shine only a little. To give everyone just enough light so all they could see was darkness. It was much lovelier to have everyone focus on him. But it wasn't lovelier, not really.

It was actually terribly lonely.

John Watson loved company. He enjoyed the warmth of friendship and the comfort of tea. His Garden was a place bathed in light; where all the trees were bright green and the water a deep blue. Most of the time he went there with friends.

Sometimes he would go alone.

Not that he didn't like his friends. On the contrary, he enjoyed them very much. But sometimes it is nice to be alone, to think, to breath. On those days he would journey to the middle of the Garden, lay down in the middle, and look up at the green umbrella tree's swaying in the wind. He would listen to the birds sing, the chatter of animals, and the rustling of nature around him. It was beautiful.

He wished he had someone to truly share it with.

Sherlock decided he wanted to meet this John Watson character. Not because he was lonely or curious. Oh, no. He wanted to prove that the Sun wasn't as wonderful as they said. It wouldn't be hard to do, either. He would go the day after his new moon, the one day a month he rested. He would wait in the bushes, and when the Sun was out, he would go over at meet him. Maybe he would talk with him, but not for long. After all, the Sun had to be an idiot; it wasn't as if he would be able to hold a conversation with Sherlock for very long.

Sherlock smiled to himself, pleased at this course of action. Laying on his back in the middle of the Garden, he imagined himself talking to the stars, laughing at them. 'I've met John Watson, and he isn't as great as you say.' He would tell them. 'I'm much smarter than him. You're all idiots.'

He couldn't wait.

When the sun found the moon
she was drinking tea in a garden
under the green umbrella trees
In the middle of summer

On the night of the full moon, Sherlock slept longer than he normally did. He awoke just before dawn, quickly hiding behind one of the umbrella trees. He waited quietly, watching as the Sun came slowly out, entering from the other side of the Garden. Curiously, he was alone.

Sherlock watched as the man who was made of gold and warmth spread a blanket under the wonderful umbrella trees, laying down and looking up at the sky, just as Sherlock had done the night before last. The umbrella trees slowly shifted from inky black to a dazzling green, and the Garden that Sherlock had thought of as his dark haven shifted to a thousand different colours, each more vibrant than the last. It was mesmerizing, each plant he had thought of as a million shades of black turned into a new, exciting colour. But none was more mesmerizing than the man in the middle of the Garden.

The Sun.

John Watson.

John enjoyed this part of day, when the Garden was quiet. He loved how each bright colour was slowly revealed, as if they were each a magnificent prize. He smiled, closing his eyes to enjoy the calmness of the morning.

He lay there for a few minutes before sitting back up, pulling a teapot and a cup out of the basket he had brought. He frowned at the extra teacup in the basket, pushing it away so he didn't have to look at it. John got busy making his early morning tea, taking solace in the routine of it. 'I really should look into putting that teacup away.' He thought, stirring a splash of milk into the concoction. 'It isn't as if I'll need it. No one wants to join me this early on.'

John sipped at his tea, letting the hot liquid slide down his throat. He was so caught up in his tea that he almost missed the person spying on him through the trees. A slight rustling caught his attention, however, and he quickly turned to see what was causing the noise.

One bright silvery blue eye, glowing like the moon, peeked out. John smiled brightly, hoping that the person hiding behind the trees was the Moon. He had yet to meet the elusive person, as their paths rarely crossed. Naturally, John had hear much of the man they called Sherlock; that he was rude and lacked social graces was but one of the things that his friends in the Garden gossiped about. But John didn't care for idle gossip, he would much rather determine the character of each person on his own.

"Hello!" He called cheerfully, and the eye disappeared. "Oh no! Wait, don't go! My name is John, and I'm the Sun! Please come out, I want to meet you!"

When the moon found the sun
He looked like he was barely hanging on
but her eyes saved his life
In the middle of summer (summer)

Slowly, a pale man with dark black hair appeared from behind the umbrella trees. His gait was slow, but confident. As he got closer, John could see that he wasn't imagining the colour of his eyes.

"Good morning!" John said when the Moon got closer, and the brunette rolled his silvery eyes.

"Morning." He responded, his voice flat. "My name is Sherlock, and I'm the Moon."

"Oh yes, I know." John smiled, and Sherlock looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, it's obvious. I know everyone who comes to the Garden during the day, but I've never met you. You also look like the moon. Dark hair, pale skin. Heck, even your eyes shine like the moon."

"My eyes?" Sherlock asked, his lip curling slightly. He looked fairly impressed with John's observations. "Maybe you aren't as stupid as I thought you would be."

"You thought I would be stupid?" John asked, pretending to look offended.

"Oh, don't be like that." Sherlock said, "Almost everyone is."

John laughed.

Sherlock could feel something flutter in his stomach when John laughed.

'I can't possibly be getting sick, can I?' He wondered, watching the blond curiously. John stopped laughing, and he grinned up at Sherlock, his dark blue eyes still sparkling with mirth. 'Unlikely an illness. Need more data.'

"I've been wanting to meet you." John continued earnestly, "But it seemed as if our paths would never cross."

"I was curious about you as well." Sherlock said slowly. "Everyone I've talked to has found you to be quite amicable, but I wanted to make my own conclusions."

'Friendly, almost overly so. Moderately intelligent. Aesthetically pleasing. Aesthetically pleasing? Unimportant detail, delete' Sherlock frowned to himself. 'Unable to delete. Ignore for now, assess information later.'

John smiled at him, and suddenly Sherlock wasn't thinking anymore. All he wanted was to make John smile like that all the time.

'Illogical, what does John's happiness provide for me?' Sherlock thought, trying to regain his cool thought process, but it didn't seem to be working. 'You've already been around John far too much. Leave now. Give yourself time to think, return at a later date when you're better prepared.'

"This has been…exciting." Sherlock drawled, rocking ever so slightly on his heels. "But I really must be going. Good day." He turned quickly, stalking across the Garden towards the safety of the umbrella trees.

"Wait, where are you going?" John's voice was startled as the sudden departure.

"I thought it was obvious." Sherlock said, turning around. "The Moon doesn't stay awake during the day. I'm going to bed."

"Oh, well…will you come back?"

"Yes." Sherlock promised.

"Tomorrow?" John smiled slightly, and Sherlock couldn't help but smile back.

"Tomorrow."

In the middle of summer
All was golden in the sky
All was golden when the day met the night
Summer (summer)
All was golden in the sky
All was golden when the day met the night
Summer, summer, summer, summer
All was golden when the day met the night

Sherlock was sitting in the middle of the Garden with tea when John arrived the next morning. Elation spread through the blond quicker than wild fire, and he had to physically stop himself from dashing over to the other man.

"Good morning." John said, sitting down next to the Moon.

"Good morning to you too, John." Sherlock replied, handing him a cup of tea. It was marvellous.

They chatted for a short while before Sherlock stood up suddenly, declaring that he needed to make a quick departure, much as he had done the night before. John tried very hard not to look too dejected as he walked away, muttering something about 'needing to be better prepared,' and 'letting his guard down.'

The rest of the week passed in this fashion. John would meet Sherlock early in the morning, they would chat, and Sherlock would leave abruptly. John grew more and more frustrated until one day he snapped.

"If you don't want to come and talk to me, that's fine!" He yelled at Sherlock's retreating figure. Sherlock turned around slowly.

"Don't be an idiot, John. That's not why I leave." Sherlock said.

"No? What is it then? Is this some kind of experiment of yours?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, turning back around again. He strode away quickly, vanishing behind the umbrella trees.

John stared at the ground miserably, wondering if Sherlock would ever come back.

And he did, three days later.

So he said, "Would it be all right
If we just sat and talked for a little while
If in exchange for your time
I give you this smile?"

John walked towards the centre of the Garden, surprised to find Sherlock standing there. Spreading out his blanket, John sat down, taking out his tea and mugs. Sherlock sat down next to him, looking a little uncomfortable.

"Would it be all right if we just sat and talked for a little while?" Sherlock began tentatively, and John managed to bite back a smile. "If, in exchange for your time, I give you this smile?"

Sherlock smiled nervously, and it warmed John's heart immensely. He grinned back at Sherlock, and nodded. Sherlock's nervous grin grew warmer until it was nothing but joyful.

So she said, "That's okay
As long as you can make a promise
not to break my little heart
or leave me all alone in the summer."

"You just want to sit here and talk?" John asked, and Sherlock nodded, thrilled that John seemed to be agreeing. "Yeah, that's okay."

Sherlock opened his mouth to tell John about his experiments with tea, and how there was such a thing as the perfect cup, when John held up a hand to silence him.

"As long as you can make a promise." John said, and Sherlock nodded once more. He would promise anything to keep John from being angry at him. "A promise not to break my heart, or leave me all alone in the summer."

'Break his heart?' Sherlock thought quickly. 'He believes I am capable of hurting him in that way?' Sherlock then noticed John's teasing smile. 'Oh, he's messing with me.'

"I promise, John." Sherlock said, a tiny smile forming on his own face.

Their day's continued in a similar manner as they had before, though Sherlock would stay longer. Sometimes John would stay late, and he would sit and talk to Sherlock before going to sleep. Sherlock found himself missing John late at night, and he would stare up at his black umbrella trees, wishing for the first time that they could be bright green all the time, because that would mean he could spend all his time with John.

'Oh no.' His heart clenched rather unexpectantly, a trickle of fear spreading through his bloodstream at his sudden realisation. 'I have fallen in love with John.'

Well he was just hanging around
Then he fell in love
And he didn't know how
But he couldn't get out
Just hanging around
Then he fell in love

Sherlock was out of his mind with fear. How could he have let himself fall in love with the Sun? What would he say to John? Would John even want to be his friend after finding out that Sherlock had fallen in love with him?

He paced around the Garden nervously, wondering what he ought to do. Should he not tell John, keep it a secret? 'No, I wouldn't be able to keep it to myself for very long.' He thought, feeling more and more distressed. All too quickly and all too slowly the umbrella tree's shifted from black to green. Sherlock turned, and watched as John entered the Garden.

John grew worried when he saw how agitated Sherlock looked. He had never seen the man look more nervous and upset. What could have cause such a reaction in him?

John spread out his blanket, smoothing out the wrinkles before sitting down and pulling out his equipment for making tea. He looked up, surprised to see Sherlock gazing down at him, an odd look on his face.

"Do you want to sit down?" John asked, unable to keep the worry and amusement out of his voice.

Sherlock merely nodded, slowly sinking onto the blanket. John could feel the Moon's eyes on him as he made tea, grabbing his mug when John offered it and taking a large gulp.

"John." He began, pausing slightly. John wondered what was going on in his head. "John, I've been doing some thinking. Since I've met you, I've become more amicable. Not only that, but your presence causes my body to release copious amounts of oxytocin." Sherlock paused to take a breath, and John took the opportunity to speak.

"What are you talking about?" John asked. He chuckled at the annoyed look on Sherlock's face. "Don't look at me like that. Even if you weren't speaking so fast, I still don't think I would be able to understand you."

Sherlock took a small breath before continuing on.

In the middle of summer
All was golden in the sky
All was golden when the day met the night
Summer
All was golden in the sky
All was golden when the day met the night
Summer, summer, summer, summer
When the moon fell in love with the sun
All was golden in the sky
All was golden when the day met the night

"John…I've grown accustomed to your presence." Sherlock said softly, watching the Sun's face for any sign that what he was going to say was a bit not good.

"I enjoy spending time with you too, Sherlock. Now, what's this all about?" John was amused, and Sherlock relaxed slightly.

"As I said, your presence releases a large amount of oxytocin while you're around, and I've discovered that I am not at all opposed to such bodily reactions…"

"Wait…hold on. Oxytocin?" John said, waving his hand. "What is Oxytocin?"

"Oxytocin is a mammalian neurohypophysial hormone that acts primarily as a neuromodulator in the brain." Sherlock said quickly, and John shook his head slowly.

"Alright…now what does it do to the body?" He asked, and Sherlock huffed.

"That would take too long to explain, John. It was originally thought to be produced only for-"

"Sherlock." John interrupted, "Please, a short version will do."

Hesitating, Sherlock looked away from John, his eyes focusing on one of the brilliant green umbrella trees.
"I suppose the nickname would suffice." He said. "It is commonly known as the 'love hormone,' though that's not all it is good for. It's common in-"

Sherlock was interrupted again, this time by a pair of soft lips on his. He gasped slightly, and it felt as though John had electrified his blood.

John broke away, looking at him with a wide smile on his face.

"I love you too, Sherlock." He said, causing an impossibly wide smile to spread across Sherlock's face. John leaned forward, pressing their lips together once more.

And it was golden.