A/N: For the prompt "Sherlock is a cloud herder, John is a star and they can only talk at night. It's tragic but beautiful.

Then John falls. Sherlock tears up the sky looking for him.

(posting for a friend, unanon to track)" posted by augustbird on the kinkmeme, and filled by me because I thought it sounded pretty :)

Sherlock looks after his group of clouds, herds them like sheep, and it's hard. It's hard because they do nothing but float endlessly on the currents of air he blows their way, it's hard because all the useless beings on the ground are helpless and mean nothing to him, and it's hard because the stars only come out at night and they are the only amazing things that ever happen to him.

The sun is large and bright during the day, yes, and of course the sun and moon are closer than any of the stars, but all the two ever talk about is each other. They only talk of being together, but a few of the other cloud herders gossip about their magnificent tearing apart; how a witch saw their boundless love and tore them from each other's arm and put them on opposite sides of the earth so she wouldn't have to see them together. Sometimes, that's what Sherlock feels like happened to him and his star, and other times he thanks the heavens that it is not.

John may be far away, but they are by no means separated as the sun and moon are. John can only come out at night, his fearsome light drowned out by that of the sun (and sometimes Sherlock hates the sun for it, but he can't hate him for long. Because, though John isn't able to be seen or heard during the day, he feels as though John is his sun and he is the moon. John will always have his inner light, but all Sherlock can do is yearn and fight to reflect that light back), but they meet up at midnight and talk until the rays of morning make John fade away.

John tells him he is amazing, but really it is John who is amazing. John, who sits far off with his brothers and sisters, and watches Sherlock during the day, but cannot be seen or heard himself. Sherlock almost wishes it were the other way around, but then John would be lonely (even amongst his kin), and he will not even contemplate John's loneliness.

So they exchange their messages across the sky with little complaint, though sometimes they wish they could be sitting side-by-side, and enjoy each other's company, blocking out the babble of the rest of the universe.

It does not happen suddenly out of nowhere, but it feels abrupt when Sherlock realizes that John is getting bigger. However, when the observation escapes his lips, the star's face goes blank and says, "It's nothing, Sherlock, why don't you tell me about that storm you caused on the edge of one of those continent-things you were telling me about?"

Sherlock didn't bring it up again, even as he continually noted John swelling and turning red with the gasses in his system. He tried not to think of the lifecycle of stars, and how it seemed like John was dying. He tried not to think at all.

Up in the sky, one hears many pieces of information by listening to the humans down below. They talk about ex-BFFs and satellites and love. However, as Sherlock pushes his group of clouds into a town and guides them through the high mountaintops, he hears a whispered piece of conversation about a falling star.

He tries not to dwell on it the rest of the day, keeps herding along his clouds, but he can't stop thinking about John's swollen red body.

When night comes, it is with the worst pain imaginable and a mystery.

John is gone from his perch in the sky, he knew John would be, but that doesn't keep him from the edge of panic. He could imagine John, just this very morning, finally growing out as far as was possible before crushing in on himself, the sun blocking his body and screams from those in the sky. He could imagine John yelling his name, being about to see him herding clouds without a though for the star he loved so much. The clouds under his care began to rain and rage with his emotional turmoil. He had to look for John.

Starting with his current position over the sea and fighting his way back to the place where the men were talking about John's falling, he wailed and cried and pushed other clouds and cloud herders out of his way. He knew John had to be close to those mountains, or else there would not have been quite so many people talking about a falling star. Humans were selfish and stupid creatures, and they only paid attention to the universe when it could possibly directly affect them.

Upon reaching the mountains, Sherlock let his cries echo off the rocks and make them rumble. Ever obedient, his clouds brightened the ground with lightning so that he may see and search.

Really, it took almost not time at all to find John's weakening glow hidden between three of the tallest mounds. He chased to the ground and observed John's infinitely smaller body. He was afraid that the star had not survived the fall until a choked gasp escaped John's throat.

He was okay. They would be okay.

Many changes came with John's arrival on earth, they have to learn to adapt. They are no longer far away, but being so newly close in proximity to the sun and moon, John seems quite taken with them. Sherlock didn't realize he was jealous until John proposed to him (by shouting his professions off the tallest mountain in the range where he fell, and daring any witch to even try to keep them from each other's arms) and removed all doubt of his moving on.

They could talk during the day, and other cloud herders quickly learned to not get within a few miles of the unpopulated mountains.

Thousands of years down the line, the two of them lay together in the valley between the three largest mounds and looked out into the night sky. Their arms were tight around each other when Sherlock spoke.

"John, do you ever miss being up there, shining with your family?"

A little huffing laugh from John disturbed Sherlock's hair. "Sometimes I think back on the days when we were both in the sky, and I miss them. We were both so happy, and I never had to worry about you worrying about me, like I do down here. But, my cloud herder," John began to kiss his way up Sherlock's neck, "I don't think I could ever be happy again to see so little of you. So, why don't you fall with me?"

Sherlock did. They fell together and it was bright, and dangerous, and it was love.