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When John turns nine years old, he meets a psychic for the first time.
She has green eyes and shiny, brown hair. She's tall, lanky, and a year older than him. She recites his thoughts to him in a monotone, as if reading from a textbook.
She's amazing.
*
John encounters mutants everywhere.
One of his teachers from Year 8 can slightly alter her molecular density, leading to the most interesting games that first stimulate John's interest in human anatomy and functions. He goes to the library and checks out a number of books with the help of a librarian with telekinesis. His mother's doctor senses human emotions.
The Bloodless War ended centuries ago, but the residual radiation led to generations of people with capabilities superior to those of average human.
John on the other hand, is the textbook definition of ordinary. He resigns himself to his fate of normality although he wants nothing more than to wield a genetic weapon that could attract danger and excitement to him.
*
John finds it difficult to secure a job after his residency.
Most of the high-paying surgeon positions are secured for mutants with impressionable mental and physical abilities.
John doesn't remember anybody telling him that over the years, the need for mutation-less humans in the medical field had greatly decreased.
*
John finds the army.
The army cultivates in him a love of excitement and adrenaline and supplies him with it every day.
John finds his calling.
*
After discovering that the army has honorably discharged him for his injuries during battle, John wants to yell and scream. He wants to demand entrance back into his home. He wants to jump back into the only life he could accept for himself.
It takes all his military training to limp away.
*
When John meets Sherlock Holmes, he doesn't see anything alarming save for the man's alluring physical features and his superior intellect.
The day after saving the man's life, John realizes that although Sherlock's biting remarks and lack of social etiquette are problems they'll have to solve together, they aren't the only issues present.
There's the matter of John's unexpected attraction to him and the matter of Sherlock's total and complete disinterest.
*
It takes John months to realize that he's missed something.
"You're a mutant," John states loudly, disturbing the relative peace of the flat.
Sherlock looks up from John's laptop with a look of incredulity. "Do not tell me you just deduced that now."
John looks back at the bookcase he had not, until just now, realized was filled with books covering biological mutations and the benefits of biological superiority.
He doesn't reply.
The next time John glances at Sherlock, the detective's eyes are trained on the computer.
Sherlock, his mad flatmate and best friend changes in his eyes.
*
John doesn't ask.
*
In reality, nothing really changes.
There are the cases, the messy experiments, and the moments of tense silence after a stimulating chase wherein the two of them meet glances for seconds longer than strictly platonic.
*
Sherlock never uses any superhuman powers while on a case. In fact, John notices that Sherlock never uses any form of superior abilities ever.
*
Curiosity burns at the back of John's mind but he holds his tongue.
*
John gets shot on a case.
The last thing he remembers is lying on the hard ground while his own blood seeped out on to the concrete. He remembers Sherlock's contorted face leaning closer to him as frantic hands pulled and pushed at him. He remembers watching Sherlock's mouth move manically as a painful ring resounded in his own ears.
He wakes up in a room of white walls and the stink of disinfectant.
Before he opens his eyes, John registers the feeling of a clammy hand maintaining a steel grip on his own.
*
The morning after the hospital discharges him, John limps into the kitchen to find a bloody chainsaw floating above the kitchen table.
"Sherlock!" John croaks as loudly as he can manage.
The man is there before John even finishes saying his name.
"What is it? What's wro-" Sherlock turns his worried eyes away from John as soon as he enters the room, in order to glare at the dripping chainsaw suspended in midair.
The figure along with its blood droplets, vanish the second Sherlock's eyes catch it.
"Care to explain?" John murmurs, brows furrowed.
*
John has a fit when he finally gets his explanation.
Apparently, Sherlock's mutation is rare, artistic, and completely useless.
"When in times of extreme stress or imbalance, my mind recalls familiar objects that symbolize my emotional state and then conjures them into reality."
John, personally, thinks it's the funniest thing he's ever heard.
Sherlock pouts on the couch as John has a good laugh.
*
A week later, John finds his laptop in the fridge. Sherlock enters the room and before fading away the figment, a look of what John believes to be embarrassment flits across his face.
*
Mycroft kidnaps him a week later.
"You do know why he's doing this, don't you?" Big Brother asks with a reserved smile.
"I wasn't aware Sherlock was doing anything," John murmurs mockingly as he sips his tea.
"As Sherlock has already explained to you, these figments of his imagination only take shape when he's emotionally compromised." The polite look falls. "What can we deduce from their constant appearance, Doctor?"
John sighs. He had already thought of this. "You're saying Sherlock's fallen in love? If I may ask, who do you assume he's fallen in love with?"
"I thought it would have been obvious," Mycroft rises from his seat. "I mean, these figures reappeared after you were shot down. That seems to be a sure indication of exactly whom my brother wishes to start a romantic relationship with."
John drags his hands down his face as he sighs.
*
On the next case, weeks later, Sherlock and John return home hungry, tired, and hyper.
"His face when you dropped the act though!" John adds to the ruckus of laughter.
At the foot of the stairs, he trips over nothing and finds his face centimeters away from Sherlock's own.
Pale, blue-green irises end up staring into John's soul.
Silence permeates the air before he finds enough sense in him to pull away from the detective's arms.
*
John takes notice of the increasing number of his own personal belongings that Sherlock conjures.
*
"That better not be what I think it is," John mutters as he watches a cup filled to the rim attempt to balance itself in thin air.
Sherlock enters the flat at the exact moment when the cup and it's contents of tea begin to fall.
"Oh, for Christ's sake!" John says in irritation.
He slips his hands on to the lapels of Sherlock's expensive coat and pulls their lips together.
John feels his heart swell with affection while his lips remain preoccupied. It's soft, short, and sweet, but at the end of it, Sherlock looks more ruffled than he did when he first came through the door.
"Well?" John asks, licking his lips after a few moments.
"I thought you would never catch on," Sherlock replies, peeking his tongue out as he bends down to recapture John's lips.