21. Silence
The silence treatment ever worked on Sherlock, not when he was the master of going days on end without so much as a mumble to Johns direction, and so it was this backward, fucked up, seemingly unintentional silence that made John talk again, whether he liked it or not.
22. Journey
He considered it a leisurely trip into Sherlock's subconscious every time Sherlock turned into something, someone he'd never seen before - teasing out a tear, laughing pretentiously, offering a limp hand - knowing, that in the end of the day, Sherlock would take the journey back to being the man John loved.
23. Fire
The colour of the fire was something John had never seen before, in its blue ice, burning deep and branding his heart until there was no escape, no other option but to wonder - hope- if his own eyes reflected the flames as he bent over Sherlock and never left his gaze while inhaling his cock.
24. Strength
Dragging a man head taller than himself, John considered it a feat, but the real burden dripped and flowed from the open gash in the right side of Sherlock's torso, the burden which was John's to carry, until he'd lost all his strength and could finally, in the early hours of the morning, rest beside the injured man.
25. Mask
When the invitation to the fancy ball had arrived with Mycroft's sign and seal, John would've never thought he'd be staring at Sherlock Holmes in a black and blood-red cape, holding a white Harlequin mask over his eyes, revealing enough of his mouth to show off the smirk which more likely promised them being fashionably late, rather than arriving on time with the rest of polite society.
26. Ice
There were ice boxes everywhere, on every flat surface, on the floor, even on top of their two fridges, and John decided he wouldn't caught dead wondering how on earth had Sherlock managed to get the entire remains of an explosion victim stashed in their flat, and went to turn up the radiator in stead, just because it was a bit chilly in here.
27. Fall
Breaking a bone that had already once been fractured was something of a pain from hell itself, and it didn't do much for John's dignity to have Sherlock fussing about, forcing him to stay in bed and bringing him chicken noodle soup, of all things, obviously, since that's what they'd done on television while John had been out in the world getting himself broken and helpless…
28. Seat
Just because there weren't enough seats in the dingy room where the equally dingy group of performers had their gig, shouldn't have meant that Sherlock pulled John in his lap, wrapped his arms around him tight enough to stop John from wriggling, which was moot in the end, as Sherlock's hands traveled in the darkness, finding bare skin, delving under layers of cloth and making John glad that he was sitting in Sherlock's lap, since his arousal was just that glaringly obvious.
29. Dance
Neither of them danced, but it didn't stop them from putting on the Ol' Blue Eyes and sipping their wine while holding each other close, swaying to the music and reveling in the feeling of having this opportunity to have their dance, and one another.
30. Body
'Lithe', was the word that came to John's mind over and over again, once he'd gotten over the initial 'pale', the 'Oh my God' of finally, finally having the opportunity to see Sherlock as bare as he'd ever be, his secrets out like in an open book, while John's hands read the Braille with gentle strokes along Sherlock's sides, pushing deeper, to the hilt, until the only word to describe left was 'writhe'.