A/N: I came up with this idea while in conversations with my friend Ennui Enigma. We had a great and intriguing conversation about interconnectedness and relationships amongst other things.
If you are a regular follower, you will recognize three chapters as ones I have already published. I've included them because they are all part of the whole. If you have already read them, you can skip them. You may want to reread them to see how they connect. Fingers crossed as to whether this works.
The stories are in no particular chronological order, and the setting may be anywhere along the relationship of the two men. While I have some of it planned on paper and in my head, I write more from the gut and let the story take me where it wants to go. Reviews are very helpful in this area and often inspire me. You would be surprised what one little comment can do.
I always try to thank my readers/reviewers/followers/favouriters as I wouldn't be here without you – I will try very hard to keep track and thank you at the end of this craziness.
There will be slash – you have been warned. And probably the occasional swear word. I have a personal bad habit of swearing, and it creeps in – especially when I get emotional.
As usual I do not own anything but the order of the words and the computer I am writing this on, but wish I did. I would have you all over for tea if this were mine.
Overture – Celestial
They speak of a door closing and a window opening. They sing of divine intervention. They pronounce that invisible strings connect us all and gravity pulls at our feet. They declare we are all separated by six degrees.
They say a lot of things.
Was it fate or was it connections or was it both the day that two damaged men met and together made a whole healed entity? If John had not chosen to walk through the park that day in the hopes of clearing away a few ghosts, if he had not met an old friend and if that old friend had not chosen to mention a potential flatmate would he have still met Sherlock? Possibly.
Sherlock had just reacquainted himself with a former client who had a flat for rent. It worked in his favour, evicted from his last residence. He needed a flatmate to help pay the rent because Mycroft was teaching him a lesson about the abuse of money and his trust fund. Again. He was not an easy person to live with, nor would he tolerate idiots. That left very few people who would put up with him or he them.
If Mike had been five minutes later would Sherlock have still been there or if not would John have bothered to stick around or meet him another time? Who knows.
It did happen that way, and they did meet. And the untamed breeze that blew through John's life when that particular window opened did more than ruffle curtains and stirred a few loose papers.
It began with the overture, one moving forward to the approach, proposing an ideal solution, the other curious and intrigued that it was a given, that he would naturally accept the offer, he was expected to accept the offer.
It was only the precursor to larger events.
There was an instant spark of something. Not love or even lust.
Not at first.
Just two misfits who were interconnecting. Two puzzle pieces that were fitting together. Two friends meeting.
And the world shifted out of trajectory momentarily and then continued its elliptical orbit around the sun almost as if nothing had happened. John and Sherlock commenced their orbit around each other, the influence as one pulled one way and the other another way, balancing the cosmos.
Chaos was allowed. Chaos built the Universe. So while it wasn't always perfect and there was hurt and anger on both sides and there were most certainly trust issues and pain and suffering, it built the foundations of the planetary system that was John and Sherlock.
There was also love. Most definitely, most wondrously. Love was the pull of gravity and the sphere of influence. Love was their theory of relativity.
And those same people say love is the reason the world spins madly on.
They say a lot of things.