Since last year (2014), I’ve been obsessed with YA Novels. Therefore, I decided to make a list of the ones I read last year and consider a “must read”. They are beautiful stories about love, friendship, family, hope, overcoming all odds, and fighting for what you want. There isn’t a single novel in this list that didn’t touch my heart and inspired me in a million different ways. Here you go!
Looking for Alaska - John Green
The Fault in Our Stars - John Green
Paper Towns - John Green
If I Stay - Gayle Forman
Where She Went (“If I Stay” sequel) - Gayle Forman
Love, Rosie (Where Rainbows End) - Cecilia Ahern
Before I Fall - Lauren Oliver
We Were Liars - E. Lockhart
To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before - Jenny Han
The Infinite Moment of Us - Lauren Myracle
First Comes Love - Katie Kacvinsky
Second Chance (“First Comes Love” book 2) - Katie Kacvinsky
Finally Forever (“First Comes Love” book 3) - Katie Kacvinsky
The Geography of You and Me - Jennifer E. Smith
Faking Normal - Courtney C. Steven (One of my ALL TIME FAVORITES)
The Summer I Turned Pretty - Jenny Han
It’s Not Summer Without You (“The Summer I Turned Pretty” book 2) - Jenny Han
We’ll Always Have Summer (“The Summer I Turned Pretty” book 3) - Jenny Han
John and Rosie move into 221b and it’s like “wait only two bedrooms oh nooooo what shall we ever do? 👀” And Sherlock is a gentleman and offers John his bed and he will of course sleep on the couch and John says “don’t be ridiculous” and so it only makes sense for them to share a bed PLATONICALLY of course.
But then one night, after a few weeks of this arrangement, John is like “is this normal? I mean…do friends do this sort of thing?” And Sherlock says “I doubt it. But then, when have we ever been normal?” And looks over to John with a soft smile and John looks back and they both burst into giggles just like that first night.
And John closes the distance between them like it’s the most natural thing in the world, because it IS. Because it’s real and it fits and Sherlock makes a sound like he’s broken and the two of them kiss and kiss and kiss, like they’ve got all the time in the world. Because they do, now. They have that time.
And eventually Rosie cries on the baby monitor and John breaks the kiss to get her and Sherlock says “I’ll come with” and the two of them share sweet sipping kisses while tending to the baby and John says “You’re going to kill me! I’m trying to be a proper parent here,” and Sherlock shrugs and says “Rosie needs to get used to seeing us this way anyway” and John is like “Oi! I don’t really want our little girl to watch us make out.”
And Sherlock freezes and his eyes fill and he says “Our little girl?” And John realizes and his heart breaks a little and he and Rosie go into Sherlock’s arms and both clutch at him and John says “of course, yes, OURS” and if his voice wavers a little with unshed tears, Sherlock doesn’t mention it.
They hold each other like that until their daughter is sleeping soundly once more and they put her back in her crib and when they make love, it’s at the same unhurried pace that they kissed. Because they have the time now. They have forever.
Sherlock does something he once thought he would never do - he’s about to pick up his daughter from the kindergarten.
John is sick and can’t go. He asked Sherlock to do it. At first, Sherlock swallowed and shook his head. Because John has picked her up the whole time she has been there now - for one month already! John knows the people there and Rosie is used to the view of John when she comes out and … “I will do something wrong,” Sherlock said to John. “You won’t,” John answered softly and gave Sherlock a kiss on the forehead. “You won’t do something wrong. And she will be so happy to see you.” “Will she?” “Yes.” “I … Okay.”
And now he is about to pick up his daughter from the kindergarten.
It’s a warm day and he’s there quite early. He didn’t want to be too late. He didn’t want her to be alone while the other kids would be surrounded by their parents, no no. He’s going to do this right. In the end, he is an hour too early. But that’s no problem. At least he can think about every scenario that could happen.
He sits down on a bench - and waits.
As the time passes, other parents come to the kindergarten. Women, mostly. They talk with each other. They know each other. Sherlock doesn’t look up from his hands in his lap. Maybe they look at him. Curiously. Maybe they wonder who he is. Maybe. He doesn’t really want to think about it, because it makes him even more nervous than he already is. But he prepares himself, just for the case that someone speaks to him. They don’t.
When the doors finally open, a bulk of laughing children comes out. Sherlock looks up and discovers her almost immediately. She walks beside another girl. They’re giggling. Sherlock has to smile at the view. Suddenly, there’s only her. And when she discovers him, she stops and looks surprised for one moment - then, a bright smile spreads on her face.
“Daddy!” She calls and runs to him, with her long, blond hair flying behind her. The smile on his face widens. He stands up and spreads his arms out for her. She bumps against him and hugs him.
He can see two women laughing at them and in this situation it’s not difficult for him to understand, that they’re laughing because they are touched. It’s actually a nice feeling to see them laughing. He feels … proud.
Rosie looks up at him and starts to talking very quickly. “Daddy, it’s nice that you pick me up, you know, Susan told me about this ice cream place where you can have blue ice cream with green sprinkles, I never had that, can we go there Daddy? Can we?”
“We can.” Sherlock says and smiles.
Rosie cheers. Then, she takes his hand and leads him.
He suddenly thinks that he could do that more often … Because it makes him happy.
Our parent’s lives were rich and rosy,
Days were peered at through the silver lining of that assumed eternal youth,
before realising that age is inevitable.
So, the brush of time paints a streak of grey through their hair,
and one day, staring at a mirror, they are convinced to do ‘the done thing.’
The bells have chimed,
they’ve followed friends down the aisle,
they’re cradling you in their arms and looking in your eyes,
in the ripples through your iris,
that forges the paths of their lost youth and splintered dreams.
They’re tearing through albums,
pointing out friends they lost touch with,
living only in the past to preserve your future,
teary-eyed, they turn up the radio to hear the first few bars
of a song from their adolescence reminding them,
that they had their own ambition, once.
Sherlock almost does a double take. It’s something he would have said, so many years ago. “Alright,” he nods. Then, teasing: “Violin?”
She shakes your head. “I told you, Daddy, it makes my fingers hurt.”
Sherlock hums. There is a thought at the back of his mind. He could… but no, it was years ago. There’s no way he could… but then, he considers Rosie’s expectant face. Perhaps… “Wait right there,” he says, and dashes to his room.
John looks on as Sherlock rushes off with a bemused look. He turns to Rosie who is wearing a matching expression, and he snorts. “Your guess is as good as mine, love.”
Then he hears an odd clack clack clack on the kitchen floor. John stands, and walks over, and sees Sherlock standing there, a little hesitantly, dressed in-
“Sherlock, are they tap shoes?”
Sherlock nods. “Cuban heels.” He does a tiny tap with his toe, and Rosie darts out from behind John, transfixed. Sherlock smiles at her. “Sounds fun, yeah?”
“You never told me you could tap dance.”
Sherlock shrugs, but it is an action that seems over-practiced. “Well, the right-mo-um- case never came up.”
John smiles at him. “Okay. Well, hold on, you need music to do this properly.”
Sherlock steps back a little. “I-I’ve not done it in years, John. So, don’t be ridiculous and expect- oh, I don’t know- Fred Astaire or something.”
“Yeah, yeah,” John replies absently, preoccupied with typing. The music blares and he turns to see Sherlock frowning.
“Oh, you won’t know it. Some pop song, but someone’s done a tap version.”
Sherlock takes a beat to listen to the song. Then, he starts out slow taps that gradually build to become faster and faster, until he’s grinning, out of breath a little, humming in time to the song and extending his arms. God, John thinks, he’s brilliant.
Rosie giggles and claps her hand, dancing all around Sherlock and Sherlock still manages to take care not to tread on her socked feet.
“You like that? Fun, isn’t it?” He scoops her up and bounces her as he dances, and John just watches. Aren’t they magnificent.
The song ends and Sherlock exhales, face glowing. “I can measure you for shoes, if you want,” he says to Rosie, and she nods enthusiastically, “Yes, yes!”
They collapse onto the couch and John joins them.
“Nothing serious, though,” Sherlock reassures John, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Just fun.”