Nothing is mine.
The silver streaks naturally looked good on Sherlock. It peeked here and there through his raven locks and only made the silly man look even more appealing.
Age looked good on Sherlock Holmes.
Age, John thought, did not look go on him. The first few strands John found on his head were meticulously plucked out and thrown away. John, wasn't a vain man, but one could not help but feel inferior to Sherlock.
John sighed, looking at his reflection. Old man, he thought, who'd ever want me?
As if on cue, Sherlock slid up beside him and said, "I do."
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