Notes: Cheerio! Just one thing to say: "I don't do drugs, I am drugs". Actually, Salvador Dali said that, but still, it works. No opium for me! XD No cocaine, either, and no pipes or cigs.
Disclaimer: Last time I checked, I wasn't Arthur Conan Doyle. *runs to mirror* Hmm…elderly, NO…mustachioed, NO…a guy, NO…Nope, I'm not him. Therefore I don't own Sherlock.
Bright
I have said before that Watson is not a light but a conductor of light, that rather than being the light he helps me to see it. However, this is untrue. Watson is a light.
No, that description is simply inadequate. Watson is not just any light, like a match or a candle, he...he...he is the sun. Yes, that description fits very nicely. I may sound sentimental and poetic right now, but it is the truth. Watson is my own personal sun. He brings his brightness everywhere he goes; he infuses his words and actions with his light. He gives his warmth and brilliance generously to everyone-even to me, a cold, lonely man who does not understand other people. He does not let me drown in the shadows, but instead bathes me in his luminosity.
On my dark days, and through my even darker nights, he is all that reminds me of warmth and light and everything that is good. He is those things, and he gives them to me abundantly.
I have said before that Darkness does not mourn for the fact that it is Dark, but instead accepts it. I am the exception to this self-made rule. I am Dark, and I want desperately to be with the Light-no, to be one with the Light.
I want his brightness to eat away at my darkness until I, like him, am Light.