Maggy VS Hazel; A Fanfiction War.

Maggy VS Hazel; A fanfiction war. May the best writer win.

"Hey, Luna?"Neville walked up to the blonde girl. She seemed oddly distant these couple of days they've been cleaning up the Hogwarts after the battle. Why? He couldn't figure that out. Of course, the Wizarding world was extremely shocked by the Battle, but he figured that it wouldn't be the case with Luna. She was always so happy and positive and cheerful and... Wait, did she say something?

"Excuse me?"He frowned lightly. A small cut across his forehead stung a bit, but he ignored it. Luna smiled lightly, but it wasn't a happy and a bit distracted smile he was used to, he liked seeing on her face. It was a blank, because-I-have-to smile.

"I said yes, what do you need, Neville. And I just repeated it. You seem slightly off."She noticed. The coldness of the broken stairs she was sitting on was slowly getting to her, but it was nothing to worry about. Yet.

"Oh, nothing, just wondering if you were okay. And if you wanted to hop by the Hogsmeade to..."The rest of his sentence was quiet, just a move of the lips. Now it was Luna's turn to ask.

"Pardon? I couldn't hear you."She said slowly blinking. Everything about her was slow, steady and light. She was like a butterfly. You want to embrace its beauty without crushing the fragility of its body.

"I said, if you wanted..."Neville's voice got even quieter at the end of the repeated sentence. Luna was getting a bit hurried now, because the stairs had got quite cold, and Neville said something about Hogsmeade, so they might even go to grab a Butterbeer.

"Nevile, you have to talk louder. Speak up, please."She said, even though her tone of voice was quiet, peaceful and slow, it got Neville nervous.

"Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?!"Neville shouted out, his blush growing by the second. He jumped up from the stairs, though he didn't know why, and his whole body was giving out signs of nervousness growing in him. His hansd were shaking slightly, he was chewing on the inside of his lower lip and on his forehead were tiny droplets of sweat. Luna just smiled at him.

"Oh, Neville, of course I will! You should have asked hours ago, cleaning out is very tiring,"she said smiling at Neville. He was such a guppy; scared of everything life had to offer, good or bad. What's the worse that could happen? She'd say no? She thought this battle made him stronger, more confident. Apparently it wasn't the case. Neville let out a relieved sigh and his hands calmed down a bit, as Luna was getting up and removing dust from her pants. Little did people know, but she hated Hogwarts' skirts. They were just not comfortable, and she couldn't feel safe in them. But she felt like it was a silly thing to think; because after all, when will she run in it? Never, that was the answer.

"Shall we?"Neville asked. It seemed that a smile was playing on his lips, but he didn't allow himself to smile. It resulted in a strange grimace which made Luna laugh slightly.

"Yes. Just hurry up, I'm quite cold here."She said. And with that, they started walking through the ruins of their ex school to the village . Unlike the chilliness of Hogwarts, Hogsmeade was warm, with a lot of people in it chattering, bickering, proposing toasts and so on. The stores were wide open, some even had stalls outside so the people who helped rebuilding Hogwarts could just pick, pay and go for their food/drinks/hats and scarves. Neville bought Butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks' stall for the two of them and got out from the crowd, lightly pulling Luna behind him. He found a bench under a tree and sat down. Luna sat next to him, hugging the Butterbeer with her hands.

"It's cold, isn't it?"Neville said stating the obvious as he took a sip from his Butterbeer. Luna drank from her as well and it slowly warmed her up.

"Yes, Neville. It is, indeed, cold."She confirmed his statement laughing a bit. That was something he adored about her. She was never mean, to anyone. She was never mean to him, while others were, not intentionally. Oh, he had such a crush on her. But the feelings were mutual, since Luna got a warm feeling in her stomach when she was around him. And it had nothing to do with the Butterbeer.

"Neville, is this a date?"She asked, a mild surprise showing on her face. Neville was shocked; so shocked he nearly spilt his drink.

"If you w-want to, y-yeah."He managed to stammer out. Suddenly he got an idea, out of nowhere. But he had to be brave to do it. Brave? You're a Gryffindor, goddamn it! He took a deep breath, and he kissed her before he could think any more. Luna froze a bit, so for a moment they were just standing still in a kiss. Luna broke the moment of stillness and wrapped her hands around Neville's neck. He let out a sigh, as he began to explore her mouth.

She tasted of Butterbeer.

Chapter One
"An event can change a person's life forever."

Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were at their flat, just after they solved a case. John was blogging about it while Sherlock sat in a chair with a distant look in his eyes, like he wasn't really there, in the flat. He was at his Mind Palace. John shook his head; he didn't really understand some of his flatmate's behaviours. But okay, he could live with them. He could live with Sherlock, he decided as he typed. And then he heard the dreaded word.

"Bored," Sherlock sighed, his rich baritone ringing through the room. John sighed as he looked up from his laptop into his eyes.

"When I finish this I'll make us tea. Unless Mister Holmes will be willing to get his royal arse up and make tea so I don't have to, now that would be great," John said looking back down at his blog.

"Unnecessary use of sarcasm, Mister Watson," Sherlock replied rolling his eyes."Besides, I wasn't planning on getting up any time soon. I need time to think."

"Oh really," John muttered, slightly amused by Sherlock. He needed time to think? About what? Well, the last case was about two lovers killing each other because they thought the other one was cheating on them. Lovely. Sherlock got it figured in minutes. But if anything could make Sherlock think, it was the concept of 'love'. He didn't understand how two people can kill each other out of love. Oh, how John wanted to prove him that people are capable of killing (okay, maybe not each other, but still) when they loved someone...

Wait, stop! This had gone in a weird direction. John shook his head, fully aware of Sherlock watching his actions. He shut the laptop down and got up in a sudden, which made Sherlock tilt his head a bit.

"I'm going to take a walk, to clear my head," John answered the unasked question Sherlock had set. Sherlock frowned lightly, but otherwise showed no reaction. John grabbed his jacket and took off, closing the door behind him. He walked around for a quarter of an hour, but felt bored. Why did he leave, anyway? It was just something in the air of their flat which made him uneasy and restless, and he couldn't quite decide what that something was. He stretched his neck lightly, frowning. Suddenly, a gunshot made him jump up and rush to the source of the shot. After a few minutes of chasing after an echo, he decided. It was their flat. His pace slowed down a bit as he shook his head.

"Oh, Sherlock," he sighed and opened the door to their flat.

"Sherlock?" He called out loudly, but not worried anymore.

"Yes?" Sherlock said from the living room, not upset at all.

"Have I told you a million times-"

"Actually, 36 times."

"Shut up, you interrupting bastard. I have told you not to shoot at..."John said as he walked to Sherlock,"the wall," he said as he discovered Sherlock's target. And then a soft voice surprised them both, causing them to look at the bullet holes, as the voice came from them.

"Hello?"A light soprano called. The men in the living room frowned.

"Hello there...?"John said, feeling silly, seeing that he was talking to a wall.

"Who... the hell shot into the wall?"The voice asked, its tone revealing some of the stubbornness of the person beneath it. Sherlock smirked lightly.

"That would be my flatmate, Sherlock. Are you hurt?"John asked worriedly, because after all, the bullet could have gotten to her.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It was a close one though. Did you say Sherlock? As in Sherlock Holmes?" John noticed that the girl was British, but with a strange accent, most definitely not the accent he and Sherlock had. And he also noticed that Sherlock's smirk got bigger. "Wait, can you come here? I feel so stupid, talking to a wall."

"The feeling's mutual. We'll be there in just a second."Sherlock replied before John could even open his mouth. He raised his eyebrows a bit. Sherlock, who didn't like human conversation at all, now insisting on talking to a stranger? Just because she recognized him? Of course, John suddenly realised. Because Sherlock was probably the most egoistic person on this planet, and as much as he didn't need other people's approval, he needed their astonishment by his abilities. He watched Sherlock get up. Hell, they didn't even know her name. But she mentioned Sherlock, so of course they had to go to her. John rolled his eyes and followed Sherlock who walked to the flat next to them, in his mind deciding in which room was she, judging after the position of the wall. He nodded his head towards the bedroom. John felt very awkward. Yes, the girl did ask them to come, but that was a bit strange. Before John could protest, Sherlock headed straight to the bedroom, and John had no other solutions so he followed him.

In the bedroom they found a brunette girl in her twenties, her green eyes watching them as they walked in. She was sitting on the bed, a book whose title John couldn't see by her side. John looked at the bullet hole. It was pretty close to her head.

"I'm really sorry for..."He pointed at the hole in the wall, "that. Sherlock does strange things when he's bored.

"No, it's fine, really."She said, not really scared by the fact she almost got killed."But, if you're Sherlock Holmes... Then you are..."She snapped her fingers."Dr. John Watson?"

"Yes, that's right, "John smiled lightly at the girl."And what's your name?"

"I'm Aisha," she smiled back at John before looking at Sherlock. "Nice to meet you."

"Same. Lovely name. Say, I don't remember you moving in."John said and sat down on a chair he had found. Sherlock got himself a chair as well.

"Oh, I'm not moving in, I'm just... hmm, you could say dropping by. I won't stay here for very long, don't worry."

"No, you can stay for as long as you wish, it's not like we forbidding you to stay. It'll keep Sherlock away from shooting into the wall, at least."John glared at Sherlock.

"Yeah, I don't think I'd be prepared for another shot," Aisha smiled a bit, before frowning and putting her hand below her nose."Oh, shit," she whispered. "Could you... just hand me over the tissues? They're on my wardrobe, just on your right, "she said to Sherlock not moving her hand. Sherlock looked over to his right before taking the tissue box shaped like a Rubik's Cube and throwing it at her. She caught it with her left hand and put it down on her bed, almost clumsily, before she took out a tissue and put it under her nose. "You were saying?"Aisha said, her voice sounding distressed.

"I was saying, that... Umm, we don't mind you here, and it will be nice company..."John said, looking at Sherlock, who was almost staring at Aisha. Deducing, John decided and sighed.

"Sherlock, "he warned him softly. Sherlock switched his gaze from Aisha to John, raising his eyebrow, while she looked like she'd rather be anywhere but here now, Sherlock's blue-grey gaze making her nervous. The uncomfortable moment was stopped by a ring from Sherlock's pocket. He took out the phone out and checked the message.

"Get up, we have a case."

Chapter Two
"If I died today, if I died now. Would anyone care?"

"A case? Really? Can I come with you?"Aisha suddenly lit up.
"You want to come? Why should we take you?"John smirked at her.

"Well, because I write and I need to know everything about people. Everything. Please, please take me!"

"A writer you say?"John asked.

"Yeah, a writer. Why?"She asked.

"Oh, no reason, I just find it interesting, that's all."John shook his head while Sherlock got up and put the chair back in the place he had found it.

"What are you waiting for? We have to get moving! You can come if you wish, but you'll have to hurry up."Sherlock said impatiently.

"Okay, I just got to get dressed," Aisha said looking at the PJs on her.

"We're waiting for you outside the building. Five minutes. If you don't show up we leave."Sherlock said and left the bedroom. John sighed and followed him, leaving Aisha to get dressed. She stood up insecurely and sighed, limping slightly towards the closet. She quickly got into a t-shirt and jeans, not really caring if she gets cold because of the London weather. As she hurried out of her room she got rid of the bloody tissue and got her tennis shoes on, but she felt a bit inadequate when she remembered Sherlock's clothing. A dress robe, for goodness sake! But she just shook it off. They didn't seem to be people who judge others by their looks. Or their clothing. There weren't a lot of people who didn't judge each other, and that made Aisha sad. People just weren't sensitive for other people's feelings enough. She locked the door to her flat and hurried up to John and Sherlock.

"Right on time," Sherlock noticed and hailed a cab.

"Sorry, I'm quite slow," she apologized to John. He just shook his head.

"It's fine. You don't have to apologize about everything, you know?"

"I know, I just feel the need to," Aisha said."Old habit."

"Stop chit chatting and get inside," Sherlock said, obviously wanting to get started on the case right away, at least it'll cure his boredom. Since John let Aisha go first, the seating was mildly awkward. Sherlock was on the right, Aisha in the middle and John on the left. Sherlock recited the address Lestrade had sent him in a text and the taxi driver took off.

"So, what's the case about?"Aisha asked Sherlock, but he didn't seem to be in the mood to talk, with anyone.

"Murder, though I don't know what kind yet," Sherlock said.

"You guys usually get called to cases when normal people eat lunch?"She asked another question.

"We're there when we're needed."Sherlock answered simply, and John noticed that he's holding something in, probably the deduction he made when he was so blatantly staring at her.

"Oh," Aisha frowned and slouched in her seat. The rest of the ride was quiet. When the taxi pulled over, they got out and John paid the driver. Sherlock frowned lightly while looking at Aisha.

"What?"She asked, again feeling uncomfortable by his gaze.

"Hmm, I'm not sure how will you handle this. You know, there will be blood and dead bodies, "Sherlock said as he was explaining something to a five year old.

"Oh, Mister Holmes, I've seen more blood in my life than you'd think, "Aisha's voice suddenly went dark.

"You'd be surprised if you knew what I know about yo-"

"Okay, okay, I think that was enough. We have a case to solve, Sherlock," John said and pushed Sherlock forward. Something was going on and John wanted to know what he deduced, but he didn't want to scare Aisha away, and Sherlock probably would. So he decided that he'll talk with Sherlock when they come back home. Sherlock started walking forward, but he looked at Aisha for a couple more seconds before looking forward, and then he crashed into Lestrade.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sherlock, didn't see you there."He said looking up at Sherlock.

"The case?"Sherlock asked, completely ignoring his apology, but he glared at John.

Turns out the case was about a man who got into mafia business, so he got his entire family killed. As he walked around the crime scene, Sherlock kept on glancing at Aisha, seemingly confused about something. Maybe he was glancing to see if she was going to throw up or something. But besides a question every now and then, her face did not give out the fact that she was in the same room as four bloody corpses. Sherlock got up after studying the mother's body and headed straight into the room on the right searching for clues, John and Aisha following behind him, but Aisha stayed out of the room, and stopped in the hall, while John went into the room not questioning Aisha's behaviour.

"Lestrade, come here. You missed an important clue. Did you not check the other rooms?"He asked, the mocking in his voice more than obvious.

"What clue, Sherlock?"Lestrade sighed and walked to the room Sherlock was, passing beside Aisha. The light blow of air Lestrade made as he walked past her made Aisha extremely dizzy and weak, so weak that she needed to grab the window sill to remain standing. The voices of the men in the room went unrecognizable, so she couldn't quite determine which voice belonged to who, and as her hearing went blurred, so did her vision, the shapes around her turning into colours.

"Why did you bring the girl with you?"

"She's our new neighbour."

"Really? But still, why did you invite her? This is not exactly what I would call fun."

"She invited herself, to be honest."

"She's a writer, so when we mentioned a case, she instantly said that she's going with us."

"That's a bit weird, don't you think?"

"Yes, just a bit, but she's okay."

"Okay okay or okay okay?"

"Lestrade, she's twenty."

"Oh."

"Paedophile."Aisha heard laughter, not only from men, but a woman's laughter as well.

"Shh, it's a crime scene. We can't laugh here!"

"Oh, who can hear us?"

And then she collapsed.

Chapter Three
"I am fascinated by the fact that humans want to hide their feelings."

"She has what?"

"Cancer, John. Judging by her symptoms, chronic leukaemia. And, by the looks of it, she doesn't have much time left."

"Oh my God, "John said, with a shiver in his voice. Sherlock wasn't much better either. They were sitting in Aisha's living room, waiting for her to regain consciousness. After she fainted, they hurried to her, and as John tried to figure out what was wrong, Sherlock solved the case and they both carried her from the house to the taxi, then from the taxi to her flat.

"What do you think, what made her come here?"Sherlock asked, looking out of the window distantly.

"Hmm?"John asked frowning. Sherlock never asked him questions. About anything. He was more of an I'll-do-it-myself-or-won't-do-it-at-all sort of a person.

"Here, what made her come live next to us? She should be at some kind of a treatment, "Sherlock said, getting impatient. Although they've known Aisha for just an hour or so, she had somehow made an impression on them. She didn't even yell at Sherlock for nearly shooting her, unintentionally, of course, but still, usually people would call the police or something.

"What made me come here? You know what they say, Carpe Diem and shit," Aisha opened the door and walked into the living room casually.

"There you are! We were scared for you, you know," John said, a bit relieved now that he knew she was alright. Otherwise he'd probably be responsible of any injuries she might have caused with the fall.

"Why were you scared? Didn't you ever fall?"She asked as she sat down curling her legs beneath her.

"Err, that's a touchy subject," John said glancing at Sherlock, who had gotten pale.

"Oh, okay then."Aisha said, and after she took a look at Sherlock, she knew she shouldn't ask. John sighed and got up.

"I forgot. Your tea?"John said, trying to cheer Sherlock up, it that was even possible.

"Huh? Oh, yes," Sherlock said looking distressed, his eyes blinking a bit faster than usual, like he was trying to blink away the pictures from the past.

"You're invited, too."John said to Aisha. She smiled lightly at him and got up.

"Sounds great."The three of them walked to their flat.

"Wow, this place is great. Holmes, this wallpaper is brilliant, why would you shoot at it?"Aisha said as she looked around. Sherlock lifted his shoulders and let them fall back down. He sat down in his usual spot and turned the TV on while John headed to the kitchen to make them tea. Aisha sat down as well, next to Sherlock, and John came with the tea in a little while. He handed them their cup and sat a down, taking a sip.

"So," Aisha started casually. "How long have you been together?" She asked and hugged the cup with her fingers. John, no matter how many times somebody asked that question, reacted. If he was holding something it would take a dive to the floor. If he was sitting he'd turn his head to the person asking that so hard that his neck would crack. In other cases, when he was drinking or eating, well...

John made a choking sound, nearly spitting his tea. He carefully put the cup down, trying to calm himself down a bit so he could make an apprehensible answer.

"We aren't together. We never were."He said shaking his head. Sherlock, however, didn't respond, he almost never did, and it worried John.

"Oh." Aisha frowned. "But you look like you've been dating for ages!"

"How can you tell that?"John asked her. Even though he was a bit startled by her question, just a bit, he wanted to know what people saw when they looked at them.

"The way you... adjust to each other. I have a feeling that, if you were to dance together, you'd never step on each other's feet, because you could tell where the other one will place his. Some kind of a connection, I don't know. And the fact you remembered how he likes his tea, because a man like Holmes obviously has a way of making it."She turned her head at John smirking.

"I remember because that self-centred idiot would notice if I made his tea any other way than the 'right' way," John rolled his eyes and going back to his tea, while Sherlock looked Aisha in amusement. John noticed that and looked back at Aisha.

"Look, look, we got ourselves a female Sherlock. Deducing and everything." He said and smiled. Sherlock frowned. There was just one Sherlock here, and he was a male, thank you very much, John. Aisha smiled with John, quite glad that they didn't talk about her illness.

"I doubt I could be a female Holmes. I mean, I read his- your blog," Aisha said, for a moment forgetting that Sherlock was in the room.

"Okay, I see I'm not wanted," Sherlock said getting up. He finished his tea and left the cup in the sink- that bloody son of a bitch didn't even wash it, John noticed- and walked to his room.

"That was weird. I mean, he's almost never wanted, and to be honest, it doesn't make him leave," John laughed slightly, but nervously. Why did Sherlock leave? Since when did he care about other people's opinion? John couldn't exactly pinpoint the moment he had started.

Aisha put her cup down and looked at John.

"What?"John asked.

"Oh, don't act like you don't know."

"Don't know what?"John asked, entertained by the sound of her voice. Expecting, impatient, childish, immature.

"Don't know what my next question is going to be." Aisha said crossing her arms on her chest.

"No, I really don't. Enlighten me, please," John smirked, somewhat focused on ticking her off. She sighed heavily, equally entertained by the situation. The smirk she sent in John's direction meant oh-come-on-John-we-both-know-what's-happening-here . Because John didn't react, she decided to, how he said, enlighten him.

"I'm enlightening myself to be honest. What exactly are your feelings towards Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson?"

Chapter Four
"But as much as people try to hide their feelings, they will never succeed fully."

“I-I do not have feelings for him. I mean, he is my flat-mate, and I hope, his friend, but I am not in love with him!”John said loudly, but hoping Sherlock couldn’t hear it. It wasn’t like there were no walls separating his room from the rest of the flat... right?
“Did they teach you how to lie when you were in the army?”Aisha asked, not showing any interest for excuses.
“I do no- how did you know I was in the army?”John asked, glad he could keep his priorities straight.
“I read your blog as well. Not important now.”Aisha shook her head. “When did you realise you had a crush on Sherlock?”
“I do not have a crush on him! It makes me sound like a teenager, for goodness sake,” John continued complaining clenching his cup of tea.
“Well,” Aisha started bolting herself upright. “You can call it anyway you want it, but hey, it’s a –both way- crush.”
“Sherlock’s asexual. He said he was married to his work.”John said, confused. Both way?
“And you believed him?”Aisha asked frowning.
“Yes, I did. I mean, he has no reason to lie.”
“Oh, he has. What was- what was the case called, the one with the fall?”Aisha asked.
“The.... Reichenbach Fall.”John stuttered. They were slowly going to the area of things John did not want to talk about. Luckily, Aisha noticed it was a sensitive topic, so she lowered her voice a bit.
“Do you really think you were that good friends that he’ll just ‘kill’ himself?”
“We—I don’t know.”John sighed deeply. Yes, they had gotten pretty close, but he never thought that Sherlock was a man who’d do such a thing for a person he hadn’t known for a long time.
“See? Crush! As much as you think you’re straight, you are actually Sherlock-sexual.”Aisha smirked.
“I-I really don’t-”John started stuttering. Was he really having a crush on Sherlock? Sherlock? He looked at the sink, Sherlock’s cup still there, and the bullet holes his last wave of boredom caused. He remembered the 3 am Sonatas he’d play on his violin.  His crazy addictions and obsessions and the way they shared a look after John would admire his work.
“Oh my God I have a crush on Sherlock.”John said, just as Sherlock ran into the room.
“I am going to Mycroft,” he said, no further explanation, but John had thought that Sherlock had still some work on the three year miss out. He walked out; forgetting his dress robe, so he went out only in that purple shirt John was so fond of.
“Does he usually disappear like this?”Aisha asked,
“You don’t know half of the story.”

---

When Sherlock came back home- what was wrong with Mycroft, anyway- he noticed his dress robe on the sofa. And there was a lump in it.
“I love this coat,” the lump spoke while John, who was sitting facing to the television, smiled slightly.
“It’s not a coat, it’s a dress robe.” Sherlock corrected, recognizing Aisha’s voice.
“Same thing, to be honest. It’s really warm. And if you’re used to wearing it, you must be pretty cold.” Aisha said, her head popping out from the coat. Sherlock walked to the sofa and took his coat from Aisha grumpily, putting it back on the hanger, where it belonged. John just watched them, cracking into a silly grin.
“I’m not cold,” Sherlock said. “I can handle low temperatures.”
“You can handle but you don’t enjoy them.”Aisha noticed.
“I can handle a lot of things rather well.”Sherlock continued as he sat down. Aisha wanted to say, like hiding your crush?, but she stopped herself right on time to notice Sherlock’s glance to John.
“Okay, I have to go; my series is on the TV.”Aisha said and got up, leaving the two to talk. After Aisha slammed the door shut, John turned to Sherlock.
“Still finishing things off at Mycroft’s?”
“John, don’t really pretend like you don’t know I don’t know.”Sherlock said putting his hand on the sofa and placing his head onto it. Now, this was the second time John was in a conversation he didn’t really understand, and he was getting a bit mad
“I heard. I heard your conversation with Aisha.”Sherlock said, his eyes giving out nothing.
“Oh,” John said going rather pale. Shit.
“And I have gone out to think about your words. And my deduction is this. You have been date-less for a while now, and your body has needs. Needs I do not understand, but needs nevertheless. And since you’ve been around me for a quite a lot of time, and your mind has somehow decided that ‘the thing you can’t have is the thing you want the most’, so seemingly, you think you have a crush on me. Actually it’s just experimenting.”Sherlock finished and looked at John, his eyes giving out a glow he always had after a deduction. He was waiting for John to say brilliant, amazing, or at least nod at him, but John did none of that. He got up so fast that even Sherlock winced slightly.
“No, you’ve completely mistaken this one. First of all, I am not date-less. I can go out with women if I want. But I have realized that, no matter how long I claimed to be straight, I was lying both to you and myself. And I was lying to Aisha as well. It’s not a crush. It’s falling in love. I know, this might ruin everything, but I have kept it in for far too long for this to be okay-“John had started walking around the living room avoiding to look at Sherlock.
“John.” Sherlock broke John’s rambling. For once, that baritone was gentle, soft, and absolutely beautiful.
“Yes?”John said, his voice barely a whisper. He felt Sherlock creeping up to him and took a deep, shakily breath.
“Turn around.”
And when John did what he was told, Sherlock pressed his lips against John’s. As John’s hands found shelter in Sherlock’s hair, Sherlock heard a meek, light giggle coming from the bullet hole.
“I knew it.”Aisha’s grin was more than obvious.

Chapter Five
"See you on the other side."

A few months after they met Aisha, she has announced that her family is forcing her to go to a treatment of some kind, in Chicago.
“That’s the last thing I want to do,” she’d said when she packed. And then she was gone.
John and Sherlock lived in a secret for about a month and a half, before Mycroft called them both to his office and congratulated them, through laughter, for finally realizing that they are the perfect couple. That confused both John and Sherlock, how can Mycroft know?, but soon enough they figured. Aisha. When they came home and started rambling together, and she said that she did it because all of their colleagues were suspicious and were threatening to ask them about their relationship and the conversation would go on and on and on, the two men agreed that this was much better than a talk with Donovan and/or Anderson about relationships.
But on the fifteenth of December, three months and two weeks after Aisha left, a book with a black cover found its way from America to the front door of 221B Baker Street. The title of the book was ‘Lifting Me Up’, with a familiar author’s name.
“She really is a writer,” Sherlock nodded, slightly impressed. From the gunshot to the last goodbyes at the airport, Aisha never lied to them. Not a single time.
“Was,” John whispered as he looked at the inscription of the title page of the book.
Dear John and Sherlock, the scripted handwriting started. My journey is coming to an end. And considering the time it takes for FedEx to ship packages from Chicago to London, by the time you get this book, I’ll be dead. But it’s okay. You know why? Because I’ve made your life better. One life for two happier souls. That’s all I’ve ever wished to accomplish. Love, Aisha.
During the time John was reading, Sherlock got up and peeked over his best friend’s, flatmate’s, crush’s, lover’s, boyfriend’s, and soon to be fiancé’s shoulder. He read the message as well and sighed deeply.
“She deserved much more.”John whispered. Sherlock agreed silently with him.

---

The book was about two friends who were never more than friends, never thought they’d be more then friends. It ends with one person almost committing suicide, by, get this, jumping off a building, but the other one talks them out of it.
“Daniel, don’t. Please, don’t. For me. You’re the positive one, remember? You’re the strong one. I am a weakling. But you keep lifting me up, and that’s why I leave.”Sherlock read out loud when he and John were cuddled in Sherlock’s bed. He closed the book and left it on the night stand.
“So she gets to write a book, play matchmaker, do so much good on this world, and then she passes? That is a load of bullshit if you ask me.”John said, still feeling detestable for her staying next door. “She could have travelled the world. And yet she stayed with us.”
“She was much more human than both of us together.”Sherlock agreed.
“And yet we’re alive and she’s not.”
“But think about it. If you believe in Karma, the world needs equal amount of good and the bad in it. She was the good and we, separate, were bad and depressing. When she succeeded at making us happy, she needed to be sad.”Sherlock said, trying to find logic in all of this. But not even he could understand the world.
“But she wasn’t sad.”
“No, she was happy for us. And we should be happy she managed to fulfil her goal of writing a book.”Sherlock said.
“We can be happy with her and mad at God.”John said grumpily and Sherlock laughed.
“Yes. She said it was okay.”
“Okay. It will be okay.”