Mysterious...

It seems you are versatile....,

You know exactly how to adapt yourself to different situations.

You are impossible to pigeonhole: an enigma for those around you.

That excitement is really attractive!

They don't know what to expect.

You are an interesting mix between emotional depth and shallow amusement.

Every moment is a new adventure!





well, that seems accurate 😉

In That Moment - part ii

Hey, this is the second part of the soliloquy i was writing wa-a-y back. lol I was away from blogger for a /very/ long time. sorry about that.... 

(continued from "In That Moment - part i")

~He turned around, ready to run away. With a fluid movement, John’s form rushed forward and snapped the door shut. “No, Sherlock, you’re not going to run away; not this time!” cried John, his voice fierce, as if he was in the battlefield. It was not a request; it was an order. Sherlock froze, he had never heard John shout like this. He felt like a horse, a thoroughbred who has escaped and gone wild; he also felt that John was thinking /exactly/ along the same line. “Don’t be afraid, I’m not going to hurt you. I am weapon-less; my revolver is right there on the table,” he said. His voice was so gentle that, Sherlock wondered whether this was the same man who just screamed at him. He blinked several times and then decided to look at John’s blue-blue eyes but then looked away again instantly. He decided to stare at John’s knees instead. He was now walking slowly towards Sherlock. He came forward until they were only about a foot apart. Sherlock kept quiet, wondering what John was going to do next.

He heard John sigh. A rough hand caught his own and held it between its fingers; a thumb was slowly caressing his palm. His pulse rose. He wanted to wrench his hand and run away, somewhere far-far away where nobody can ever find him. “Shh…” he heard a voice, /John’s voice/, somewhere very close to his chest. He took a step back, or at least half of himself did, while the other half stood rooted to the spot. The end result was a comical half-step that nearly unbalanced him, had it not been for a second arm that caught him behind his sleeve. “It’s over now, Sherlock. Your time for running away, is over. We’re going to settle everything. Just stop trying to run away; you’re never going to run away, nobody is /ever/ able to run away from their heart. Your heart belongs to you. It’ll never leave you. So don’t exhaust yourself; please stop,” his voice was soothing, a gentle plead. The wild horse yielded; it allowed the human to touch him, to try and calm him; he was still /very/ flustered, yet he thought to give one chance.

At last, the world came to a halt. People were allowed to breathe, children were allowed to laugh and play, trees swayed in a soft breeze, the sun shone lazily across a cloud-studded, crystal-blue sky; all was well. Inside 221B, Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes allowed John Watson to lead him on to the sofa, where they would sit down and talk, for all eternity, if that is what it takes. Oh love, how gentle art thou…?

John settled Sherlock among the cushions and sat down. Sherlock was /not/ going to settle down that easily. He sprang up and sat rigid as a board, his scrutinizing gaze now directed completely at John, whose eyes twinkled at the sudden change in his protégée. He chuckled. He didn’t say anything, yet he continued to observe this beautiful, rare, and /extremely/ elusive creature that he has been able to coax and finally tether into a calm posture. He himself must be having some special power; for what normal person would /ever/ manage this feat without harming such an innocent being as Sherlock? There aren’t many people out there who could manage to perform the miracle John Watson just demonstrated. His heart jumped to his throat as the whole weight of what he just accomplished hit him. “Nobody on earth has never done what I did just now…! Nobody was able to bring this man to where he is right now..! God, I am speechless; truly, I am /speechless/..!” declared his mind; his heart, on the other hand, was wondering what to do next. And then, in an instant, without much ado, he kissed Sherlock, gently on the forehead. Oh love, how wondrous art thou…?