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Summary: A light falls to earth, warm, happy, brilliantly illuminating the world around it. Loved, cherished, wanted; Darkness falls to earth, cold, black, consuming the world around it. Hated, feared, alone.
Rating: Teen+ (will change)
Word count: 2500+
!!WARNING!!: Graphic depictions of violence
Ao3 link
~*~
Black.
Inky, thick darkness swirling forever and consuming all he touched. A void. A nothing. Feared and hated and reviled. Something to be dreaded, everyone and everything’s worst nightmare. He consumed all life, devoured all that was bright and good never to return. Sometimes he did it on accident. Sometimes he did it out of spite.
There was a great deal he wanted to do, but more than anything, he wanted to touch a star. But every time he reached, every time he attempted to, every time he basked in their light, he sucked them in. One touch, even closeness with one, turned it to nothing. Took it away, stripped it away, destroyed it.
That’s all he could do, destroy.
Which is why the system he’d taken in was dying.
“I’m sorry!” He cried, watching the planets and stars get sucked into the vast depths of the nothing he created. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! I didn’t want to do this!”
He didn’t want any of this. All he wanted was to see light, that’s all he wanted but no, no, he’d ruined it. Broken it forever he could never, ever have light. Only horrible, cold darkness.
They were all going to die, all of these stars… He was killing them, he was murdering all of them and he could hear their screams as they went, as they were torn into the smallest of fragments and disappeared into the void he created by simply being.
Movement in the dying sun caught his eye, a star, one little star was falling away from him. Escaping to somewhere far away, somewhere he could barely see. Was it that easy? To just… let go. Leave the sky? What if he died?
He listened to the screams rattle around him, the sky becoming darker and darker and soon he would be in pitch darkness, alone again.
Perhaps death wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.
He simply let go…
~*~
The English countryside held no real treasures if one didn’t value rustic scenery. Fog, rolling hills covered in sheep, bright gray skies and a watery sun that peeked through now and again.
In this particular place, with its woods and sheep farms, there was nothing to be seen, which bored little Sherlock Holmes to death. His parents liked it out here, their little vacation to sit and read and Mycroft could also sit and read and he was left to amble about the place with Redbeard. He didn’t go near the river, as he was told, and he stayed within sight from the house, which meant no exploring in the woods.
He kicked a rock, which Redbeard barked at and ran after as it skittered down the hill to bring it back to him. He sighed. “Boring.”
No sooner had the word left his mouth that something stirred the air. Not wind, wind didn’t blow straight down, it was...something else.
Something like thunder shook the ground, just for a moment, and a brilliant light flooded the sky.
Sherlock gasped, whirling around to watch-
“A star!” He shouted, climbing on the boulder he’d been sitting on. Redbeard began barking. “A star, it’s a star! Mummy! Mummy, come look, it’s falling!”
Nothing in the house stirred, of course, and he was left to watch the bright light plummet to the earth, and it would land somewhere in the trees. He bolted after it, watching the light as it fell. He wanted to see it, he wanted to touch it, he-
There was a shape in the light. A small, tiny little shape, like a person.
“A boy! There’s a boy in the star! Mycroft, come and see!”
Again no one stirred, and he bolted into the woods after the light. It was farther away than he thought, but that wouldn’t stop him. “Come on, Redbeard!”
~*~
It had all been so frightening. A small, dark little spot completely void of light. No stars inside, no nothing. And it had been crying.
He tried to tell everyone that the spot was crying and scared but no one heard him. By the time they took notice of the bleak spot that was getting bigger, and bigger it was too late.
They were all taken by it, but it wasn’t its fault! He was scared, that’s why it kept growing, the more afraid and angry he was the bigger he got but he didn’t want to hurt anyone.
He ran from it. He took his light and ran to the closest place that could take him.
He landed in a ball of warmth and stardust on a pile of wet dead leaves and soft black earth, sitting up and looking around the strange place. The whispers here were different. Everything was connected, the barks of the trees, the grass, the wind, they all talked to each other at once.
Different, but not horrible.
It was lovely, all alive and green and pulsing with such life. It was beautiful.
A sudden crack above his head caught his attention, and he watched the sky tint with black, bleak spot. The clouds opened and a plume of black cloud, dark as ink, and fell down too fast with nothing to catch it, as the light had caught him. He could barely make out a shape in the darkness, the boy locked in the black.
Unlike him, there was no cradle for him.
He slammed into the earth, a massive crater of shadow enveloping him and sucking down several trees and their roots with it. The sound of the branches twisted and cracking was horrific and shook him to his core to watch the destruction.
When the black finally cleared, a boy was left at the center of debris. His skin was almost white, his hair and eyes black as the pitch he brought with him.
The star glowed, bright and glowing all around him. His hair and skin were dusted with glittering flecks of light, his eyes a sparkling, warm blue, a striking contrast to the other boy.
He was bruised from his fall, looking around with sharp worry in his features. He was cold, John could feel it from where he was, and black tendrils of smoke oozed from wherever he was touching the ground. His face smeared in dirt he looked around in terror, and his eyes finally rested on John.
“You...you’re okay,” he said in their strange language foreign to any whisper of sound on this planet. The start nodded.
“Yes. Are you?” He asked, reaching for him. The darkness scuttled back, shaking his head.
“Don’t! I’ll get you too, don’t touch me!” As he panicked the darkness around him grew, the ground buckling beneath him.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay!” The star assured, smiling at him. “I’m okay, see? I’m close and nothing happened, it’s okay.”
The darkness stared at him, relaxing bit by bit. The ground settled and the black crept back into him. “I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, I just… I just want to talk to someone!” He pleaded, his voice echoing and hollow.
The star swallowed and nodded. “I know. I know, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, you can’t help it.”
The voice was like honey, warm and encompassing, and so soothing. The darkness crept closer to him on instinct, staring in awe. The star was so bright, so warm and he wanted to be closer. He wanted to feel that warmth and know it. Finally he wanted to feel something that wasn’t bleak, frigid nothingness.
Darkness reached for light, and the light was more than happy to try and touch him. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. And I’m here with you. Nothing bad’s gonna happen now. We’re together. You aren’t alone.”
Their fingers brushed together, and the star gasped in pain. The stardust around his forefinger turned black, the light going out before they could even fully touch, and the darkness watched it disappear inside of him. For a moment he could feel the warmth, which made it all the more horrible when it went away.
He looked at the star and cried out, covering his mouth and shaking his head. “No. No! I can’t touch you, I’ll hurt you!” The ground began to rumble and the dark hurried away, tears the color of ink staining his pale face. The star’s light surged, his want to heal and protect overpowering him and he toddled after him, reaching for him.
“Wait! Wait, please, don’t go! Don’t go, we can fix it! I can help-!”
“STAY AWAY FROM ME!”
The forest behind him buckled. Rocks split and fell into the sudden sinkhole that formed behind him, more trees falling and being ripped into shards of nothing in the black pool he created.
The star fell with a cry, golden tears in his bright eyes. “B-but I want to help you.”
“You can’t!” He wailed. “You’ll die!”
They both turned to a sudden, repetitive sharp sound that echoed around them. A sound from an animal neither of them knew of, and the voice of an inhabitant calling out. The darkness turned and started to run away.
“Wait! Wait, we can’t split up, come back!”
“No good, I’m no good, I’m no good, I’m no good!”
The darkness resolved to run away. He had to stay away from everyone or he’d hurt them. He’d break them, he’d destroy everything just like he did everywhere else. And even as the broken little pleas of the star tinkled in his ear he kept running.
He wanted to touch a star, but it could never be. At least, this time, he could keep one safe.
~*~
Sherlock staggered into the clearing, his eyes growing in wonder at the sight around him. A little boy about his age was perched on the edge of a massive sinkhole, staring after something he couldn’t see. Perhaps it was the little dot moving on the horizon, an animal probably.
“Wow, did you do that?!” He exclaimed happily, his knees and elbows skinned from his urgency to get to this place.
The glowing boy turned and stared at him, clearly not understanding what he asked. “That,” Sherlock repeated, pointing at the hole. “Did you,” he pointed at the boy. “Do that?” Another gesture to the sinkhole.
The strange boy shook his head, creeping closer to him.
He was naked, little pools of gold dust left behind in his little footprints as he got closer. “Aren’t you cold?” Sherlock asked, taking off his scarf and offering it to him. The odd child pushed it away and took his hand, lifting it to look at the blood on his elbows. He placed his hand over it, and a brilliant gold light shone from his palm. When it faded, the sting was gone.
“Brilliant,” Sherlock whispered, smiling at him. “I’m Sherlock,” he said, fashioning the scarf around the boy’s waist, laughing when he wiggled his hips excitedly. “What are you called?”
The boy cocked his head, wiping what appeared to be residual tears off his face, and not understanding again.
Sherlock pointed to himself. “Sher-lock,” he said slowly, patting his chest. “Sherlock. And you are?” He pointed at the boy.
“Light!” He exclaimed, but to Sherlock’s odd sense of hearing, it didn’t sound like that at all. More of a muffled ‘Jnn.’
“John?” Sherlock repeated back. The boy giggled and clapped, nodding. Sherlock smiled back. “John! It’s nice to meet you, John.”
“Shr-lick,” John said, pointing at him. Sherlock laughed.
“Close enough. C’mon, let’s get you out of the cold. My mummy’ll take care of you too if I ask her nice enough. She takes care of Mycroft fine and he’s a pompous arse!”
John walked hand in hand with Sherlock, casting one more look back toward the destruction the darkness had left, sad. Maybe one day he would see him again. He hoped he would be alright. He closed his eyes and wished so hard that the sad boy would find some happiness.
~*~
“Oi! The hell are you doin’ here?!”
The darkness had been hiding in shadow, where he felt the safest. The black warmth of the barn was shelter and out of the way. He couldn’t hurt anyone if he was tucked away in here. And there were all sorts of live things in here to keep him company. Their sounds and their funny language with each other was comforting, but this creature, a man, was unsettling.
He cowered away from him and fought when he grabbed him, shaking his head and trying to get away while he was dragged out into the open again.
“What’s that there, Frank?!” Another man called, jogging over.
“Some boy I found in the hay! Lookit him, all skin and bones and stark naked. Where’s your mum, lad?” Frank asked, but to the darkness it sounded like an accusation, a harsh demand. He tugged harder.
“Let go!” He pleaded.
“What’s that he’s speakin’, that Welsh?” Frank asked.
“Hell if I know, Reg!”
“Maybe it’s Irish-”
“Who gives a fuck, just help me get him inside, he’s a wiry fucker. Oi! Go see if there’s anyone missin’ a toddler ‘round here, Al!” He called to a young man not far off, who nodded and ran toward the village in the distance.
The little one started to panic, gasping and staring at the place they were trying to take him. They would hurt him, or they would get hurt, they would yell and try and capture him and put him away.
The ground started to shake, the black tendrils wafting from his skin started to billow from him and black tar started to ooze from him in its wake.
“I SAID LET GO!” He shrieked, the black exploding from him in a sludge and taking everything it touched with it, including Frank’s arm.
The man screamed, blood and tar spurting all over the ground as he clutched at the stump where his forearm once was. Holes appeared in the road, things disintegrated entirely underneath as it melted it away. It was different than his fear. Anger poisoning his curse further and making him more dangerous.
He sobbed and ran away again, the same fate of losing a limb when the other farm hands tried to get a hold of him.
“DEMON!” They screamed. Devil, plague, all kinds of new things he’d never heard before. But they hurt just as much, even if he didn’t know their full meaning.
With these new voices echoing in his ears he found himself wishing he were back in the sky, alone. It was better than this bombardment of unwanted company.
He stopped on the crest of a hill, taking sharp breaths of the cold air and staring at his stained hands, sobbing quietly. He hoped with all of his might that his life wouldn’t always be like this.
He curled up against the base of a tree that night with the vision of the star reaching for him keeping him company.
It kept him so at peace he slept right through the police officer wrapping him up and taking him to a station far, far away, where a social worker would be waiting.
think about star!john coming to visit sherlock in the evening, and the first time he does mrs. and mr. holmes wake up because they saw the light out of their window, and sherlock has to hide him under his bed, but he gives john a giant thick cloak so he can hide the starlight until he gets to sherlock's room! imagine them reading a book under john's light, cuddling and sherlock is always warm (✿◠‿◠)
star!john first arriving when kid!sherlock is crying himself to sleep thinking about redbeard ;___;
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You both like johnlock.
You: [Star!john, teenlock] The star had been on Earth for almost a year. He lived with adoptive parents who didn't know his secret, and had a sister much different from him. Life was wonderful. Earth was so fascinating and beautiful. But the most beautiful part was his wisher, Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, the young 15 year old, was John's best friend. And the star was lucky enough to be staying in the Holmes mansion for two weeks. Except, at night, John often missed the sky. So, he would slip into Sherlock's bed, and finally let himself glow. Around Sherlock, who knew his secret, the 16 year old star could be himself. It was his favourite place. Looking over at the brunet human, John dared to brush a curl from his forehead. "I want to stay with you forever."
Stranger: Sherlock had been enamoured with John, his star, for ages. That night, John had crawled into bed and gently glowed, it was
Stranger: (Bless! Sorry.)
You: ((All okay, it's happened to me before too!))
Stranger: Sherlock had been enamoured with John, his star, for ages. That night, John had crawled into bed and gently glowed, it was like Christmas. To have him there. His. Well, his friend. The star was so- he'd grown to possibly love him. Sherlock was almost certain that was what the joy he felt was when John was near. He felt the whisper, so close to his face, he wanted to reach up and kiss the words as they were spoke. "Can you, John? Yes-"
You: The star gulped. He didn't know if Sherlock felt the same way that he did. Even if Sherlock wanted him to stay, would he be interested in more then they had? John wanted to be everything to Sherlock. He wanted to be there for him whenever. John wanted Sherlock to be properly loved and cared for. Not only was it his duty, but he had never wanted anything more. Though he was only 16, he had lived as a star for thousands of years. And Sherlock, he had such a wise mind. He was amazing. Daring once more, John leaned forwards and pressed his lips to Sherlock's, cutting the brunet off in mid-sentence. Just quickly. It left a dusting of glitter that soon disappeared into mid air. The star blushed softly and looked away. "I'm sorry."
Stranger: John stopped him with a kiss; it felt as if time had stopped, as if that moment was everything in the universe. "No, please. It's-" Sherlock tracked the glittering dust as it disappeared between them. He had wondered. Now he knew. His heart was so full, it was just this side of uncomfortable, and yet the most perfect thing he had ever felt. "John, I cannot see a time where I wouldn't want you by my side. Is it wrong? To hope for that?" It was night after all, a time when wishes and hopes could be whispered. "May I- kiss you?"
You: John blinked and looked up, his glow brightening. He slipped closer and let his tanned hand rest on Sherlock's cheek. "The second I heard your voice, Sherlock, calling for me, I knew I had to be yours. I knew that I wanted nothing more than to give you the love that you deserve. I want to spend the rest of my life beside you.." he whispered, letting his thumb brush along Sherlock's pale skin. "I'd really like that, yeah. Please do."
Stranger: Sherlock could feel the ernestness in John's voice. "Since then- you've-" his finger found their own way against John's face as he was lost in the blue of John's eyes. So perfect. The easy smile against his cheeks. John wanted to be his as much as he wanted everything with John. Sherlock tipped up a little, gingerly grazing his lips against John's jaw following to his warm mouth. It was new, kissing. He tried to gently press them together, pulling John's lower lips between his before releasing him. He half smiled and blushed.
You: John couldn't say that he knew much about kissing either. But he liked it. It made him glow brighter, if it was even possible. The blond wrapped an arm around Sherlock's waist and pulled him closer. He found that it was so much nicer, being close to his wisher. He smiled softly and pressed his lips against Sherlock's again. In his year that he'd been a human, John had been able to witness more than a few movies. He remembered how the couples kissed. Surely it couldn't be that difficult. So, he tilted his head slightly, pressing their lips more firmly together. When he pulled away he rested his forehead against Sherlock's and gave a happy sigh. "I want to learn how to do more of that."
Stranger: "You and I both." Sherlock quietly laughed between them, pulling John close to him with his own arms. He felt free to laugh, to be physically demonstrative, with John. As if, it might be a better form of communicating as lately he'd found himself lost where words were concerned. "May I-" he spayed his hand against the warm skin of his star, then trailed a hand to the blond hair. "You're shimmering, John-" he couldn't help but kiss him gently again. He felt amazing just as he was. As they were.
You: John giggled softly after their lips parted. "It doesn't bother you? It's um, well, /natural/ of me. I feel comfortable around you. You're the only person who knows my secret. And when I let you see me, well, I can't really control it very well." John blushed softly. He felt complete with Sherlock. Like the brunet filled in a piece he had been missing all his years as a star. John blinked and looked to Sherlock's piercing eyes - iridescent in many ways. They were often blue, with flecks of green and gold. John thought they were stunning. He got lost in them, sometimes, and found it hard to think of anything else. His wisher was the most beautiful thing in the world, and that he was sure of.
Stranger: "It's, good. But I want to-" Sherlock felt the blush begin. "You're already handsome- it makes you- irrisitiable. I want to run my fingers-" He looked down then biting at his lip to stop himself. He felt as if he wanted nothing more than to feel them as close as possible for as long as they could. Wanted to know if the fine dust would cover him, mark him indelibly as John's. "I want to know-"
You: 'Hey, Sherlock," John whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He lifted his chin up with a finger and gave him a gentle, genuine smile. "You can tell me," he promised. "I won't be angry or upset with you." His smile widened, "in fact, I always want to hear what you want. I want to give you everything I can. Don't be afraid to tell me what you want and what you don't want." He pressed a few, feather-light kisses to Sherlock's cheeks, leaving the temporary gold dust.
Stranger: He watched the dust fade in the air between them as he thought. "I want you close- just us." He felt the need to look away again, but John. He trusted John to know, to understand. "No clothes, but close together. Not- I just need you close?" Sherlock could feel his eyes pricking a bit as a bubble of happiness welled hopeful inside him. He stole a soft kiss to John's skin and breathed deeply. "Closer, John. Just close."
You: That was okay with John. He knew that they were both pretty new to this, and so anything but cuddling wasn't right in this situation. In times to come, when they spent more and more time together, maybe they could do the things John felt guilty imagining. Nodding, the blond pulled away just enough so that he could tug his pajamas off. He was very glad that Sherlock's door was locked. He didn't want the Holmes' to come in when they were sleeping in the same bed. He didn't want them to send him back home. Once he was undressed, the star slipped back to Sherlock and gently touched the bottom of his shirt. "Can I remove these? Is that okay?" His whole body was alight, and he hoped that Sherlock didn't find it too odd. Sherlock had been the only person to see him naked, and that had been the day he'd fallen to Earth.
Stranger: "Yes-" Sherlock's eyes roamed quickly over John, it wasn't that he didn't want that, he was curious, but not now. Sherlock smiled at John nodding and meeting his hands to help pull away his own things. They made quick work of it and soon were lying close. "You're warmer, too, like this." Reaching out, he wrapped his arms lightly around John again. "The way you are looking at me- how can you- you're a star, John-"my star, he wanted to say, but they stuck in his throat. "You're perfect."
You: John kissed Sherlock's cheek softly and gave a sigh against his jaw. "My whole life, Sherlock, I've been waiting for you. I waited to fall to Earth so I could be with you. You're my world." he insisted, burying his face into Sherlock's neck. Sherlock was his human. His wisher. The most wonderful person on the planet. "Thank you, Sherlock. But you're perfect, too. You're the most wonderful human I'll ever know." John kissed the brunet's collar bone and sucked in a breath. It felt like his heart might explode. He was so happy. So lucky. So in love.
Stranger: Sherlock pulled John closer so that there was next to no space between them as he spoke. "I think I'm in love with you." He whispered as John nuzzled against his neck. John thought he was perfect, how far he was from that, but worthy. He could strive, would do so, to be worthy of him. "My- my guiding star. My friend." He did not know how to handle everything that was welled inside of himself, but he would learn. "It- it would have frightened me, a year ago- but I'm not. Not with you." He rested his lips to John's temple and kissed him lightly.
You: John smiled against Sherlock's skin. "I'm glad that you feel comfortable with me. We'll take it slowly. We don't have to rush. We have the rest of our lives together," he promised, pressing a kiss to the skin closest to his lips. "I love you too, Sherlock." He let his arm encircle Sherlock's waist, and he rested there happily. He realized that he was letting the golden glitter litter Sherlock's skin. It could be frustrating sometimes. He was glad that it simmered away and left no mess. The good thing was, when he didn't want to reveal his true identity, he had gotten very good at controlling his glow and his glitter. But around Sherlock, he couldn't help himself. "We should sleep soon. It's extremely late."
Stranger: "I don't want to. Not-" The soft yawn cut him off. "I know- ages and ages, John. Not in a rush." He grumbled about hormone addled youth and idiocy for a moment before remembering that they were safe in his bed, skin to skin, and how it was more than enough. "How others- I don't understand it all, John. This- is everything. I want to be covered in dust always." Sherlock was aware he might be losing coherency and smiled against John's temple. "Wake up before I do... Alarm?"
You: John could only chuckle at Sherlock's rambling, finding it endearing. "Don't worry, love, I'll wake you up tomorrow. Your parents are out, so we can do whatever you'd like." Smiling, John raised his head and quickly groped for the phone on the bedside table. He fumbled with it, and made an alarm set for the morning. Mobile phones were still something John was getting used to. A star was not exactly well adept with technology. He set it aside and then curled Sherlock into his arms, kissing his forehead once more. "Get some sleep, Sherlock." And for Sherlock to get his wish, John ran his hands over almost every inch of the brunet's skin, leaving the trails of gold wherever he touched. When Sherlock was awake one day, he might do it again. And if they ever did more intimate things, John could even do it then, too.
Stranger: ((Oh my gosh, this is like the sweetest thing ever! Thank you so much! I love this!))
Stranger: ((Do you ever ep further via email?))
You: ((Ah, it's been so adorable. Thank /you/! I love it too!))
You: ((Ah, I'm not really one to rp over email. I've tried sometimes and usually gotten so busy that I can't continue. Sorry!))
Stranger: ((That's fine! I'm crazy busy right now, just hate losing great people who write well. If you ever want, my email is [email protected] Just to pop by or whatever!))
You: ((Okay, c: You're a lovely writer, by the way!))
