A/N: Lanshannarra (FF): Sherlock and John watching lightening bugs? And talking about whether it would be more interesting or less interesting of they where human instead of horses?
I'm going a bit out of order with the prompts because of the way they're fitting with the story, but I promise that they'll all be done.
John's dream ended in a world-crushing earthquake, and when he woke up, nearly blind in the darkness of the night and disorientated, he discovered that the cause of the earthquake was the shuddering running through Sherlock's body. The withdrawal had been hitting Sherlock hard, so John had taken to sleeping with his head flung over Sherlock's neck with his body pressed flush against the taller, darker one; were he any closer, John would have been inside Sherlock's body, too.
"Mm? Sherlock...?"
The only reply was a chattering of teeth. It was disturbing, how taciturn his usually smart-mouthed friend had become. There was something about it that put him in mind of the way the girl from Nevada, the one he'd loved and watched fade away, but John had no intentions of letting Sherlock do the same thing. One can only take so much so much loss, and John had had more than enough for a lifetime. As he was pondering how he could lessen his friend's pain, there was a flash of light in front of him, and with a start, he realized that it was a firefly- actually, make it two.
The fireflies flew around a bit, almost dancing around each other, until they came to land on John and Sherlock's water bucket, where they stayed, though the faint luminescence still flashed every few moments. Something about them sent an idea flashing through John.
"Would you like to be a human, Sherlock?"
"A... human?" The racehorse's voice was raw from disuse; John ignored the way it set his nerves on edge, screaming about the wrongness of the sound.
"Yeah, like... Sebastian or Molly. It would be interesting, wouldn't it?"
Sherlock pondered the question, and John could see how Sherlock's mind was whirling, considering the question on a thousand levels- each one taking him further and further away from the pain.
When he finally answered, Sherlock spoke with something close to his usual vigor.
"I don't think so. Humans are... more structured than even we are and less accepting to those who move outside their circles of thought. I knew Sebastian as a teenager, and that isn't something I'd care to experience. Humans are far too closed-minded and foolish, their minds so strange and unused. To be so limited, to have only two legs that are so unsteady... That isn't something I would like."
The response brought a tiny smile of victory to John's face. It seemed that even in pain, Sherlock be contemptuous.
"You really wouldn't want to? Not at all? I think it'd be interesting- seeing things from other places, being able to walk around when I please-"
"Don't you already do that?"
"Shut up, Sherlock. I was saying something important. It'd be nice to be the one doing the riding instead having to carry someone else, too."
Sherlock snorted derisively.
"When was the last time you had a person on your back?"
"Last time a bomb nearly blew up New York City."
They stood in an awkward silence for a time, John contemplating the moment he'd thought he'd die and Sherlock eventually realizing he'd said something wrong, that the silence was his doing but not knowing how to break it, so they stood without speaking and watched the fireflies take off from the bucket and fly away.
It was oddly peaceful, watching the fireflies disappear.
Maybe it was the mood, or perhaps it was the way John's presence was like an off button for the screeching speakers in his head, but Sherlock found himself talking again.
"I suppose that being a human... wouldn't be that bad... if I had someone else, someone upon whom I could rely, expressively."
"Good thing you've got me then."