Title: Light and Shadow
Word Count: 229
Fandom: Sherlock (TV)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating: PG for the drug use.

a/n: This may or may not turn out to be a ‘verse I end up playing more in. Somewhere in my head is a long gen-ish fic where Sherlock and John are lovely BFF’s despite what everyone seems to assume to be the case.

At any rate, I was watching this birthing dvd for work today, and the Doctor was talking about how imprinting, whether people or those famous baby ducks, occurs under the influence of an opiate washed brain … and a spark was born. So here are a few hundred words -- admittedly ridiculous that the notes and the quote are nearly as long as the fic -- where Sherlock and John are quite simply addicted to one another’s presence in their lives.

To be an appropriate target for social bonding an object (it could, of course, be a person or an animal) has to provide stimulation that is pleasurable and in this sense, comforting. This will happen when some aspect of the object (for example, its shape or its texture or its motion) has the capacity to innately stimulate the production of endorphins (the brain's own form of morphine). -- Dr. Howard S. Hoffman, author of Amorous Turkeys and Addicted Ducklings: The Science of Social Bonding and Imprinting

Things changed at 221B Baker Street the first time John came home and found Sherlock lying on the couch, syringe held lightly in his fingers. For one thing, Sherlock was smiling.

“Sherlock. What...?”

“Ah, John.”

John moved on instinct, perching on the edge of the coffee table, checking Sherlock’s pulse, his pupils, then plucking the sodding needle out of his infuriating flatmate’s hand.

“It’s... all … fine,” Sherlock murmured softly, his deep voice languid, slow in a way John had never seen Sherlock be before. John found Sherlock’s now empty hand winding itself around his calf, gripping it in a way John could only define as possessive, although he wasn’t sure Sherlock was even aware of what his hand was doing.

“I’m never going to live those words down, am I?” John asked, shaking his head and smiling down at this odd still quiet creature in front of him.

Sherlock made a humming noise that was equal parts agreement and amusement as his eyes slid closed.

“Do you suppose you could solve a mystery for me sometime Sherlock?”

Sherlock opened his eyes, and looked at John. His hand was still wrapped softly around John’s leg, and his thumb was tracing patterns across John’s corduroy trousers.

“The biggest mystery of them all is why you do the things you do.”

And John couldn’t help joining in when Sherlock began to laugh.