A/N: Yes, I know I have Muse to worry about and it is coming along slowly. Until I get that updated, I am working on this little interesting series that will also feature Johnlock. The chapters will be shorter and the story line confusing, but I really hope you enjoy it!

Okay, so I would add some information, but John will do that for me. The first few chapters will be informational chapters. So you know this world and the people and types in it! There is a lot, I warn you. I have been planning this series for a month now in the between moments of Muse. I promise it gets better! I hope so anyways! I will work on it regardless of that fact, but having some people liking it would just make it all the more appealing to write I suppose? ^^" I apologize for any boring things in this chapter. Since I won't be adding an end note to this first chapter, review/fav/follow/read! Ciao guys~!

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock

Chapter 1: Monochrome

Black and white.

White and black.

Gray and black and white.

These are the colors that have adorned my vision since I was born. Everything I see is like peering into old classics on the telly. People moving with the most flamboyant movements and speaking in odd tongues. Nothing is taken away from seeing only three colors. It's the same as everything else, just lacking the one objective that could make it stand out from the rest.

Color.

Sitting at my office desk, I picked up a pencil and sketched on a notepad close to me. I'm far from an artist, but I enjoy the craft as a time waster. My paperwork is finished, my next patient isn't till noon, and I have no other way to pass the time, having forgotten my favorite detective novel at home.

After a moment of idle coloring, I peered at the sheet of paper. The spark of hope in the back of my head appearing despite the absurdity.

It was useless for that spark to have occurred. I hadn't met anybody in the last few seconds.

I stilled the pencil.

Even though the colored pencil in my hand is labeled "Blue" all I see is black or a dark gray. The sphere I color on my paper is perfect in the sense of shading and proportions, but it can't get any better without color. An aspect I have long given up looking for because I apparently wasn't meant to have it with however many dates I go on.

Setting the pencil aside, I sighed. My hand goes to the bridge of my nose and I stuffed the pad in my drawers.

But, I can't say that I am the only one with this. Because I'm not. Everyone is born with this specific disease the second they leave the womb of their parents. Color is left out of the picture and replaced with the lifeless neutrals of shading and light. It's like reverting back to the past because we have advanced so much in the future. Both I find rather unbelievable, but that is the belief system nowadays.

I vaguely remembered all the times on the telly I would catch kids yelling at their parents and blaming them for the fact they can't see color. The parents couldn't do anything but watch in a tearful expression for they had nothing they could say to console the hormonal teenager.

It's not the parent's fault. It never is their fault. If anything, pity is placed on them for bearing children. As odd as it sounds, having children is almost a curse for them. They lack the connection they know they can't have with their children. The one facet that everyone has in common except for the lucky few.

The spectrum of light coursing through everyday life.

Color.

God. That word. I suppose before the whole disease people would love the word like it was some euphoric drug. But that was in the past. Nowadays, mentioning this word in public or in a pub could get you a solid left hook, a black eye, and a few disgusted looks. Even if you couldn't see it. Even if it was just idle conversation. It was a touchy subject.

So is mentioning people you know who have found color. It seems that while everybody may be congratulating you, they have that underline emotion of hatred and resentment.

But that's how it is today, as immature and annoying as it can be.

The parents, the soul mates as we call it, have color. It's because with their soul mate, the one and only person they will be with, their lives are complete. They can see the world for what it is, but it's fine as long as their mate is beside them. It's only then that the disease is lifted and you are able to see color.

Or so I've heard. I can't say the same because I haven't found mine yet and have stopped looking.

In this colorless world, we call these people the Iridescence. They are not restricted to hierarchy and nor are they immediately moved when they do change the status. They are just lucky, ordinary people. You can tell when you're around one when you see them. They have a white aura outlining their entire being. It branches off in wispy arms, but touches no one. It's like they are glowing.

The rest of us, the colorless, are known as the Monochromes. Most of the population consists of Monochromes. It's because soul mates are hard to find. The closest hint you get is a tug in the right direction. A little spark saying that you might want to look around you. But it could be gone in an instant.

I sighed, briefly remembering times I always felt that tug. It was so faint and I hated it because it always pointed me to the nearest crime scene. It was like it was mocking me. Telling me it would be better to just do the same as that bloke on the street.

Some find theirs though. I don't know how. They can never explain what it felt like when they found their mate. A mystery.

Well, I suppose that's very unrelated to me at the moment.

Once your mate is found, the white and black don't change immediately. It's gradual, depending on how deep your bond is. If it's friendship. If it's love. If it's anything. Depending on the strength of the bond, you will get whatever color is dictated by that amount of strength.

That's why some of us are fortunate to get all colors when we do find our mates. The Iridescence is a status most don't obtain. It has sub-levels for those who obtain most of the color (Opalescence) and those who have very little (Pastels). Although, that being said, nobody can have a child unless they are with their soul mate and of full Iridescence value. That's the interesting perks of the disease really.

I don't know of these and I personally could care less. I don't waste time pitying the fact that I work in an occupation where I see soul mates having their children. Where children are taken from the wound and snipped from their mother's. Where the tears that cascade down their faces are not of joy, but of sorrow for the child they know will never understand why they love the sunset and why they enjoy the Fall.

But that's why I don't work in that category. I'm a doctor, was once an Army doctor, but I restrained myself to avoiding that branch. The branch of the children and laboring women. It was a sad sight to see and I've met some of the blokes and mates that work in the Sanctuary Zone (where the births are to be held). They are always sad. Smiles appear, but they never reach their eyes. I don't want that to happen to me.

I restrain myself to do mostly minor check ups and, in cases of low staff, ER work. I've been told I work great under pressure. I don't crack and mess up. Most of the doctors in the vicinity value this greatly. To the point that they almost tried to promote me to being a trauma surgeon or a surgeon to work full time in the ER. I declined because it was right next to the Sanctuary Zone. I valued what I had left of my monochrome life compared to what I would lose when I hear the cries and soft regrets.

I treasured what I have without searching for the one to give me more.

I'm happy.

I'm happy in my own little, colorless world where all I see is black, white, and gray.

"Doctor Watson." I peered up when I heard my name. I noticed the female immediately as one of my good colleagues in this job. Sarah, I believe. She was nice. The first time we met she tapped my hand to see if I was the one, but it wasn't in the stars it seems. Too bad. She was a lovely woman and a even brilliant friend.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts and tried to work an answer through my head. Even my voice in my head was thick with the exhaustion I didn't know I was feeling. That was probably my fault. Workaholic as they say. Since it's either working or going home to my drunk sister and her mate, I'd rather stay here. Even if I work twenty-four hours straight with no break and only coffee to keep me going. It was fine. I would be doing more good here than at home.

"John."

I blinked and gave an apologetic smile, "Sorry. Kind of zoned out."

She shook her head, leaning in the entrance way with concern laced throughout her facial features, "You should go home. Rest. Eat something. No, I don't mean take-out. I mean an actual meal. Sleep in. Working these long shifts are going to drive you mad."

Not as mad as seeing my sister and her mate arguing despite their guaranteed happiness I thought to myself as Sarah continued to give me that look.

Quirking my lip, I smile a little more, "Is that doctor's orders, Sarah? Can I have a note with that to keep my sister and mate away while I'm at it?"

Sarah sighed, "You should be happy for your sister, John. Not many find their soul mates. Even though your sister's relationship may be more... verbal than most, you should be glad."

With a single release of breath, I felt my age getting to me, "I know. I know Sarah. But I don't want to go to the flat and find that perhaps Clara left because Harry said something or Harry went to the pub and Clara is crying. I don't want to be the third wheel to see it all. It's enough to drive any military man mad. I can feel it." God only knows how many times I have witnessed that this week alone.

"Yeah, I know," she spoke before walking towards the desk and laying a clip board on the desk and walking out of the room. I was about to peer at the records when a nurse ran into the room, out of breath and barely catching the door before it slammed on his face.

"Doctor Watson. You're needed in the Emergency Room."

I was gone within a moment, any thoughts of my sister's failing mating out of the window.

Yeah, I was happy.

I was happy in my own little sad, crazy, fatal, monochrome world where all I can see is black, white, and gray.