A/N: Hello, people!

I don't own Sherlock.

I have no beta

ENJOY!

CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. THE LINK IS ON MY PROFILE. I FOLLOW BACK.

He was born different.

Unlike everyone else he knew, his timer was at 0000d 00h 00m 00s since the day he was born.

He'd gotten over it years ago.

But there was that lingering pain.

That kind of engulfing loneliness that constantly rang in his ears.

His doubts and fears whispering through his mind. Every insecurity just playing like a record in his head, scratching and repeating over and over.

He was abnormal.

It was so obvious that he wouldn't have anyone of his own.

He looked away from the disgrace on his wrist. The torn up flesh he'd tried so hard to cover. The scars had healed over already, but the image was still visible despite it all. A mockery.

Everyone in his life knew about it. The doctors who stitched him up gave him pity. His mates in the army had shown him pity. His sister showed pity.

No one truly cared.

No one would ever.

He sighed, shifting his scarf a bit and shrugging his bag over his shoulder.

The chilled air of the December evening nipped at his face.

He huddled close to the warm window of the clinic behind him, as he waited for a cab.

He fidgeted a bit and sighed in relief when the black vehicle pulled up and gave a beep.

Just as he moved to open the door, someone form the inside had beaten him to it.

Pale skin, a complete opposite to his own which was tanned. Tall, much taller than he was. Curly, black hair and bright bluish/green eyes.

He flushed.

This stranger was attractive.

He mentally shook himself. No.

Never.

He stepped aside, waiting for the man to move away so he could get in the cab.

Instead, the handsome stranger looked down at his wrist and then up, amazing eyes wide in shock.

The man reached out and grabbed his wrist, looking at it.

He panicked, not wanting this stranger to see his pathetic weakness.

When he tried to draw back, the man's grip suddenly tightened. He couldn't move.

"Has it been like this for a while?" the man asked, voice deeper than any he'd ever heard before.

He reluctantly answered, unable to look away from those eyes.

"My whole life."

The stranger's eyes sparkled.

"Amazing."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"You're looking for a flat-share," the stranger suddenly commented, making his heart pound rapidly How did he know that?!

"As am I."

The gloved hand moved back, gripping onto his hand now, giving it a customary shake as if greeting him.

"You're an army doctor, with a psychosomatic limp, recently invalided home. I could use a medical professional that knows what he's doing."

He just stared, unable to comprehend how this man knew all of that.

"H-how?"

"Hm? Obvious. A tan that doesn't extend to your arms. The bag filled with medical papers, the haircut and the way you stand, and overall, your disposition speaks volumes. I play the violin when I feel like it and sometimes I don't talk or move for days on end. Would that bother you?"

"W-what?"

"After all, I should think my soulmate should get to know my worst habits," the man stated, holding up his wrist and showing the numbers that were all at zero.

He backed up a step.

"B-but I can't have a-"

"Well obviously it's wrong, seeing as my timer just ran out and I am never wrong," the man placed a glove covered finger to his lips, halting his stammering.

"Sherlock Holmes," the man grinned suddenly, holding out his hand.

He looked down at it.

Should he try?

Should he believe this incredibly attractive stranger could be his?

Hesitantly, he reached out and grasped the hand.

"John Watson."

Who knew that forty years later, he'd be sitting in a wheelchair, telling his recently passed husband that it wouldn't be long until he joined him.

A/N: Done!

-So, if anyone doesn't know, there is a pic on Tumblr from the movie Timer. A wrist with a small clock on it, counting down to when you meet your soulmate. The people who reblog mostly join in by making their own little story. And as I was reading, I read most that had to do with the writer themselves and only one person did a homosexual pairing when I got to reblogging. And I was like, 'I'm the only person who thought of my OTP. And so I typed this and reblogged it. This is striaght from my Tumblr page.

How was it? Let me know.

Check out my other Sherlock fics.

See ya! :D

CHECK ME OUT ON TUMBLR. THE LINK IS ON MY PROFILE. I FOLLOW BACK.