a/n; Completely inspired by tsukinoblossom and her stunning 221b-style drabbles, which, if I can be half as impressive and enjoyable in my work, will have me reaching a much-pursued goal. The impending premier of season 2 of Sherlock has me crawling out of my skin; this is how I plan on venting it all. I hope at least someone enjoys; reviews are always dearly appreciated, and requests for an idea always taken as well! So here we go; exactly 221 words each, last word always beginning with a B. Enjoy!
If one asked John, he'd claim he and Sherlock made little sense together. He was, in his opinion, generally average. A man of average looks, experiences, talents, and perhaps less than average height. Uninteresting. He could blend into any situation, anywhere, with no features making him particularly outstanding. He was like water- vague, easily seen through, and reflecting whatever others chose to see. Nothing less, nothing more. As a result, he simply couldn't comprehend a man like Sherlock Holmes- exceptional in every way, a charismatic enigma- wanting him around at all.
If one questioned Sherlock, he'd dismiss the query with characteristic flippancy, while his mind ran incessantly. He was occasionally callous, unaware of others' feelings- he was impatient, lost interest easily, and had often been accused of being emotionless. In his opinion, he was like stone- had learned to be, with good reason. He'd always been different than the other kids, from everyone around him- the only way to adjust was to shut it all out. For his massive intellect, the part of him that WAS in possession of emotion was unable to grasp why a man like John Watson- compassionate, considerate, solid- would stick with him as long as he had so far.
They'd always continue to wonder. But there's certainly something to be said for the concept of balance.