"I know that everything was taken away from me! Don't you think I am aware of that fact! It might be the only thing that I do know!" "And doesn't it make sense then! Doesn't rage make sense?," John volleys back, not to be off-put. "Yes!," I thunder before I can stop myself. "Of course it does!"

Horrible titles aside, this is a short fic that highlights a headcanon I have about Zoro and math. Enjoy! (Rated T only for language, I may've thrown a few curses in here because it has Sanji in it...so...yeah I aim for realism.)

While trying to find Zoro in the village, the crew describes their swordsman to a vendor. Though there is one detail about him that no one can agree on. Oneshot.

In which Sherlock struggles not to let his other addictions get the best of him, and John misjudges a cold. (Warning: self harm fic)

Sherlock and Mycroft have their best conversations without words.