So i was going to enter fuckyeahteenlock's tumblr Halloween comp. But i read the instructions wrong (mixed up 400 character with 400 words) so when i got my lovely friend Ben to beta is he spend such a long time i fought it would be a shame to chuck it just because im a klutz so here it is...
After spending the whole of his life being called a freak Sherlock had grown to detest Halloween. He could never understand why people would deliberately dress up as outsiders. But no, every October all those bullies who loved to taunt him all year round would come out to play. One even dressed up as him one year, oh how they all laughed. Don't they know what its like? Why did they like being different? Freaks. Why when they said it to each other, did it come out like a compliment? He hoped one day he would be able to share with someone, his saddening truths of lonely Halloweens spent eating the candy reserved for the other kids that wouldn't be caught dead taking it from him...
After spending the last five years of his life being called a genius, Sherlock had grown to love Halloween. It's one of the particular times of year that puts into perspective just how much he's glad he doesn't fit in with the outside world, because cuddled up on the sofa watching re runs of Poirot, he realises he fits in were he most wants to. Next to John. Next to his heart. He doesn't need the world. He's got John and as time goes on those two things become more and more akin. John stood between Sherlock and the TV, having just tended to some trick or treaters. With the glare from the TV, John had a somewhat phantasmagoric appearance. He was so beautiful. Sherlock's heart pounded in his chest like something else he was used to... "Come on." John said, pulling Sherlock out of his seat and leading him into a yard lit with witch hat lights and glowing ghosts. Sherlock was particularly proud of his artistic flare for decoration. John unbuttoned Sherlock's shirt, Sherlock returned the favour. They kissed passionately, undressing each other. They grasped at each other's bodes, craving to be as close to each other as a victim of possession was to his inaibitor. Oh but John was definitely Sherlock's inhabitor. They clutched at each other and fell to the ground, making passionate love in the remains of Sherlock's three hour attempt at carving a whole pumpkin patch. They had fallen with particular aimlessness. After the two lovers' union had... finished uniting, Sherlock rolled over, into John's arms. "You smashed my pumpkin." He giggled.