Chapter 1

Observe

John had been watching the man watch people almost all day. Every once and a while he would take a photograph, but mostly he just watched. Analyzing the groups of people passing as he sat on the park bench. Sometimes he would get up and move to a different bench, or prop his feet up on it. He even took to laying on top of a bench at one point and began taking pictures of the trees above him.

He was rather strange this man. Every Saturday on his day off John came to the park for his walk, he would take a break after and see this man. And every Saturday this man would be sitting watching people and taking photographs of them. It was strange the way he looked at everyone. As though he had never seen a human being before. Like they were some foreign creatures and he was trying to figure out how they lived. Scrutinizing their every move, like a big cat examining his next victim. But at the same time he had a look of longing. Like he wanted to live their lives and do what they were doing.

He looked like a perfectly ordinary bloke, except for the fact that he was absolutely gorgeous.

He was a younger man, rather tall and slim. His shoulders broad indicating that he had more muscle than you would think. His black coat and black curls contrasted with his pale skin. His eyes were small underneath his busy eyebrows, his cheekbones prominent even from a distance.

Regrettably John had only every seen him from a distance. But he was perfectly content with watching him watch people from where he was.

The next week began just like any other for John Watson.

He got up at 7 every morning, ate his breakfast, went to his job at the clinic then went home.

However his week did not end the same as usual.

After his regularly scheduled walk in the park he went to sit down at the same bench he did every Saturday to find a certain tall dark haired man sitting at one end of it.

John hesitated for a second than sat down on the opposite end of the bench and looked straight forward.

There was a couple holding hands walking down the path. An old man reading a newspaper on a bench. A little boy chasing a pigeon that had landed in front of him.

"Beautiful day." the man said lazily, his voice deep and smooth. John had never heard him speak but he had assumed it would sound something like that.

"Yes very." John looked sideways at the man. He was watching the boy chase another pigeon with a smile on his face. His smile was quite lovely, he seemed kinder when he smiled. His sharp features softened and his eyes and nose crinkled up. It was admittedly adorable.

John liked the fact that the man had chosen to sit at his bench today. He had been longing to get a better look at him. Now he could see his eyes and they were the most beautiful eyes John had ever seen. They were mesmerizing! Every time they moved they seemed to change colors, they would be a light blue, then a pale green, then grey. And when they looked at John they seemed to be a thousand different colors.

Oh no, they were looking at John.

He quickly averted his own eyes feeling quite embarrassed to be caught staring at another man.

"Is there something special about this bench?" The man asked his deep voice kind and calming. The fact that he had asked John a question made his mind go blank for a second. But he quickly recovered.

"No, nothing. Why do you ask?" John figured he should at least try to make conversation despite the fact that this man made him feel nervous. A good kind of nervous, the kind of nervous a schoolboy gets around a girl he fancies.

"Because every time I see you here you sit at this bench. Just this one. I assumed you would be coming today like you do every Saturday so I decided to come over here and see for myself." The man looked down at the bench and placed his hand on it. "It's surprisingly ordinary for a bench so I thought maybe it had some kind of sentimental value to you. But then I also noticed the lovely view you get from sitting here and might I say I'm rather disappointed I didn't come here sooner. You can see practically the entire park from here." He was smiling again, looking around the park with fascination as if seeing it for the first time.

John also looked around, he had never taken any notice to the fact that you really could see everything from this spot. It was quite remarkable when he thought about it, the park had always been his favorite place because it was quiet compared to the city but he now noticed the beauty of it. The huge trees, which he didn't know the name of, were dropping their leaves making for a red, yellow, and orange carpet over the paths. The fountain in the center gave the park a circular feel. There were bushes everywhere which in the spring time housed the most beautiful flowers.

John had never noticed any of this until it was pointed out to him. He had the sudden urge to learn more about this man. He wanted to know everything about him. But mostly he wanted to know how he knew that John would come here and sit on this bench.

"But how did you kn..." he began but the other man cut him off, not impolitely.

"Well I would notice wouldn't I?" he looked at John, a mischievous grin dancing across his face. "You notice things when you sit quietly and observe. For instance I noticed that you come here every Saturday, walk for about an hour then come and sit at this bench. I notice which old woman feeds which pigeons, which mother brings her children to play while she meets secretly with a man who is not her husband, I notice which men are prepared to propose to their partners. But mostly I notice when a man is watching me notice these things." he smiled again, this time looking at John with amusement.

Of course he would notice John staring at him. All this man did was watch people all day, he absolutely would notice someone watching him every Saturday.

"Oh..," John had no clue what to say, he felt like he had been caught spying (he basically had). But the other man was still smiling, not at all bothered. He noticed John's uneasiness however and tried to at least change the subject.

"The name's Sherlock Holmes." he stuck out his hand.

"Dr. John Watson." John held out his own hand. He couldn't help but feel a little self conscious. Sherlock's hand was slim and smooth where as John's was small and calloused, his fingers chubby. But Sherlock didn't seem to notice, the smile never leaving his face.

"Doctor is it?"

"Yes I was an army doctor. Retired now. I work at the clinic." John didn't really enjoy talking about his work. After being in the army working at a clinic seemed like the most boring thing ever. But Sherlock didn't seem to think so.

"Fascinating." he said as though he had never met or seen a doctor in his life. John thought he might be being sarcastic but one look at his still smiling face told him he in fact was not.

"I s'pose so. And you?"

Sherlock's smile seemed to get even bigger, if that were possible. "Oh me?! I just photograph things." He tried to sound normal but there was excitement behind his words as if no one had ever asked him what he did before. "Free lance mostly, people like my photos but I can't seem to stay in one place."

"What kind of things do you photograph." The fact that he didn't have a boring old office job like everybody else made him seem all the more interesting. John definitely wanted to get to know him.

"Things I like." Sherlock looked thoughtfully around the park again and pointed to the man reading his newspaper. "I would photograph him, if I got it at the right angle with the right lighting it would be the most amazing photo ever." He picked up his camera which had been sitting in his lap, he put it up to his face and adjusted the lens. John could hear a little snap as Sherlock took a picture of the man. He smiled as he put his camera back into his lap.

John was slightly confused. How could a photo of an old bloke be the best photo ever? "But why would you want to take a photo of him. There's nothing interesting about him."

Sherlock was still looking at the man. "Because he is very interesting, if you think about it." He looked at John still smiling then gestured to the old man. "Look at him again."

John looked but there was nothing out of the ordinary or brilliant about him. He was wearing a light brown flat cap that matched his jacket. His black trousers came up over his ankles revealing grey patterned socks. His face was flat and squashy and his nose was quite large.

Sherlock was looking at John, watching his face. Hoping he would see what Sherlock saw.

He didn't. "I still don't understand what you find so amazing about him."

Sherlock looked slightly disappointed. "Well you see, he looks as if he shouldn't really be here at all." Seeing John's expression he went into a more detailed explanation.

"If I were to photograph him and make the picture black and white it would look like he belonged there. Like he belonged in the world when everything was black and white. But if I took a photograph and didn't change it at all he would look slightly out of place around all the color because he doesn't belong to that time. The picture would look wrong."

John could see it now. He imagined the man in a black and white photograph and then in a color one. But what Sherlock found interesting about that he didn't know.

Sherlock could tell he didn't quite see what he meant. "I see the world in pictures Dr. Watson. I imagine everything I see as being a photograph. I can see what it would look like then what it actually looks like. That man looks like he just stepped out of a photograph from the 1940s and it would be a shame to waste such a beautiful opportunity to put him back into one." with that Sherlock got to his feet and moved to a bench closer to the man took a photograph of him then returned to sit next to John.

"That's not something you hear everyday." John said watching Sherlock with a new kind of respect. He had never met anyone who would find an old man so intriguing.

"Well most people don't see what I see." He looked sad, lonely even. John knew that face all too well. It was the face of a man who didn't have many friends, a man who wished he wasn't like he was.

"I think that's brilliant." John said trying to cheer him up. He really meant it though. Sherlock smiled again, a wide smile that meant no one had ever said anything like that to him before.

The weeks passed and John spent most of his Saturday afternoons listening to Sherlock talk about people and how fantastic they were. But the really fantastic one was Sherlock. Everywhere he looked he saw something different. He could make a man walking his dog into a thing of beauty, a woman out for a jog was enticing, a child holding an ice cream screamed amazing. And John noticed the way Sherlock's eyes lit up every time he saw something he wanted to photograph.

Sherlock was perfectly content rambling on to John about how solitary and organic the stone fountain looked. They way the stone was so still and cold compared to the water spewing out of the top of it. Sometimes he would catch John staring at him but he didn't mind. He liked his company, he was very interested in hearing what Sherlock had to say and he never seemed bored.

One Saturday they were discussing how the rays of sun shone through the trees when John said something that made Sherlock go silent.

"I like the way it looks in the spring. You can see the sunlight through the leaves and every so often there is break and.."

"I won't be able to come here any more." John said flatly. He had been trying to tell Sherlock all day but he just didn't know how. He decided it would be easier to just tell him flat out. "I have to take extra shifts at the clinic. See I'm having trouble paying my rent and I need a bit of extra money so.."

"Rent." It was Sherlock's turn to interrupt. "If you're having trouble paying rent I can help y..."

"No that's not what I meant. I don't want you giving me any money." John had always refused to take money from people and he most certainly wasn't going to let Sherlock give him any.

"No no I just meant..." He looked away searching for the right words. "Well I've been in need of a flat mate, and well... I just thought that since you... of course I can understand if you don't..."

"Really?" John hadn't expected that at all. He would love to move into a flat with Sherlock. He wouldn't have to take extra shifts and would get to see him everyday. "That would be brilliant!"

Sherlock looked stunned at first then his face broke into his familiar smile. "Are you sure? You would really want to move into the flat with me?"

"Of course I would." John had been looking forward to his Saturdays with Sherlock lately. He enjoyed talking to him, enjoyed watching him talk. Something about this man made John feel happy and safe. He didn't know just what it was yet but if had the opportunity to move in with him and find out he would definitely take it. "Yes lets go now. Where is it?"

Sherlock was very surprised that John had agreed, he was even more surprised that he was so excited to move in.

"221B Baker Street."