Fic Rec: The Bang and the Clatter
Title: The Bang and the Clatter
Author: earlgreytea68
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Length: 137048 words
Rating: Mature
Warnings: None
Verse: Sherlock BBC
Author's summary: Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU.
Reccer's comments: Right off the bat (pun not intended) I want to point out that you don't need to know anything about baseball, or even have an interest in it, for you to be swept away by this fic. The story, at its heart and soul, is all about the progression of the relationship between Sherlock and John, which is done at a very satisfying and realistic pace. Having said that, if you are a baseball fan like me, you will find that aspect of the story satisfying as well.
The first chapter (prologue, really) is an introduction to the rules and terms of the sport, but you can easily skip past that to the story proper without missing anything of importance. This is one of my favourite authors, and I was waiting patiently (?) for it to be completed before I started it. When I did, I devoured it within a very short span of time. I would easily put it within my top 10 Sherlock fics.
Family dynamics play a major role in this story as well, for both Sherlock and John. The author even gives Harry and Clara a family of their own, and she does a beautiful job of portraying their relationship in a way that doesn't place all the blame for their problems on just one person. Even the unsympathetic portrayal of Sherlock's family isn't done just for the sake of adding unnecessary conflict, but serves the purpose of explaining why Sherlock acts the way he does in his interactions with other people.
Almost everyone from canon appears in this, and the author does a fantastic job of putting them exactly where they would fit the best in this universe. Greg Lestrade is the team's manager, Mrs Hudson is the team's owner (and also, incidently, the owner of the house that contains Sherlock's apartment), Molly is the team doctor... even Donovan and Anderson make appearances. Moriarty is also here, of course... who is ultimately revealed to be a much more sinister figure than just a rival pitcher who is the bane of Sherlock's existence.
Set aside a few hours for this epic romance.... I guarantee it will be well worth your time.
John had not expected Sherlock to still be in the clubhouse when he got out of the shower. But he was, lounging deep in the armchair he’d been sitting on the day before, dressed in another sharp suit. The shirt was purple this time, stunning against the pale cast of his skin, and John was suddenly very, very glad he’d thought to wrap a towel around his hips.
“Did you shower?” he asked, abruptly self-conscious. Everything had been completely on the up-and-up, but still. The whole thing was inconvenient. All these years of playing baseball, he had never once been attracted to a teammate.
“I didn’t need to. That was ten pitches, it was nothing, didn’t even break a sweat. Are you busy?”
“I’m…” John wasn’t sure what the question was. “Well, I’m not dressed.”
“Obviously,” Sherlock clipped out. “I mean after you get dressed. Obviously.”
“What are you proposing?”
“A situation I’d like your input on. Since you already know what I said in my text yesterday.”
“You sent it from my phone. You should have bloody deleted it if you’re so clever.” The bloody in the sentence surprised him. Sherlock’s accent must have been reviving latent Britishness in him, thought John. His mother was going to be well pleased.
Sherlock lifted his eyebrows, too, but said nothing about that. “Don’t come if it’s not convenient. Actually, no, come anyway, even if it’s inconvenient.”
John shook his head and tried to pretend he wasn’t intrigued beyond belief. And, anyway, he wasn’t busy. “Fine, I’ll come along.”
“Excellent,” said Sherlock, and settled into his chair.
John paused in front of his locker, feeling foolish. “Do you mind?” he asked.
Sherlock looked genuinely surprised. His eyes flickered down the length of John’s body, as if taking in his relative nakedness for the first time. That did wonders for the ego, thought John, dryly. Not that he liked being ogled, but, well, it was nice every once in a while. “Oh. I suppose.” Sherlock stood. “If you’d rather, I’ll wait for you in my car.”
Sherlock walked out of the clubhouse. John watched him go, fancying that you could tell just from his walk what sort of fabulous pitcher he was. Then he took a deep breath, thought, John, you are losing your bloody mind, then thought, Oh my God, stop it with the “bloody” nonsense, then, But he is bloody hot, isn’t he?, and then, Bloody hell, and reached for his clothing.
Author: earlgreytea68
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Length: 137048 words
Rating: Mature
Warnings: None
Verse: Sherlock BBC
Author's summary: Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU.
Reccer's comments: Right off the bat (pun not intended) I want to point out that you don't need to know anything about baseball, or even have an interest in it, for you to be swept away by this fic. The story, at its heart and soul, is all about the progression of the relationship between Sherlock and John, which is done at a very satisfying and realistic pace. Having said that, if you are a baseball fan like me, you will find that aspect of the story satisfying as well.
The first chapter (prologue, really) is an introduction to the rules and terms of the sport, but you can easily skip past that to the story proper without missing anything of importance. This is one of my favourite authors, and I was waiting patiently (?) for it to be completed before I started it. When I did, I devoured it within a very short span of time. I would easily put it within my top 10 Sherlock fics.
Family dynamics play a major role in this story as well, for both Sherlock and John. The author even gives Harry and Clara a family of their own, and she does a beautiful job of portraying their relationship in a way that doesn't place all the blame for their problems on just one person. Even the unsympathetic portrayal of Sherlock's family isn't done just for the sake of adding unnecessary conflict, but serves the purpose of explaining why Sherlock acts the way he does in his interactions with other people.
Almost everyone from canon appears in this, and the author does a fantastic job of putting them exactly where they would fit the best in this universe. Greg Lestrade is the team's manager, Mrs Hudson is the team's owner (and also, incidently, the owner of the house that contains Sherlock's apartment), Molly is the team doctor... even Donovan and Anderson make appearances. Moriarty is also here, of course... who is ultimately revealed to be a much more sinister figure than just a rival pitcher who is the bane of Sherlock's existence.
Set aside a few hours for this epic romance.... I guarantee it will be well worth your time.
John had not expected Sherlock to still be in the clubhouse when he got out of the shower. But he was, lounging deep in the armchair he’d been sitting on the day before, dressed in another sharp suit. The shirt was purple this time, stunning against the pale cast of his skin, and John was suddenly very, very glad he’d thought to wrap a towel around his hips.
“Did you shower?” he asked, abruptly self-conscious. Everything had been completely on the up-and-up, but still. The whole thing was inconvenient. All these years of playing baseball, he had never once been attracted to a teammate.
“I didn’t need to. That was ten pitches, it was nothing, didn’t even break a sweat. Are you busy?”
“I’m…” John wasn’t sure what the question was. “Well, I’m not dressed.”
“Obviously,” Sherlock clipped out. “I mean after you get dressed. Obviously.”
“What are you proposing?”
“A situation I’d like your input on. Since you already know what I said in my text yesterday.”
“You sent it from my phone. You should have bloody deleted it if you’re so clever.” The bloody in the sentence surprised him. Sherlock’s accent must have been reviving latent Britishness in him, thought John. His mother was going to be well pleased.
Sherlock lifted his eyebrows, too, but said nothing about that. “Don’t come if it’s not convenient. Actually, no, come anyway, even if it’s inconvenient.”
John shook his head and tried to pretend he wasn’t intrigued beyond belief. And, anyway, he wasn’t busy. “Fine, I’ll come along.”
“Excellent,” said Sherlock, and settled into his chair.
John paused in front of his locker, feeling foolish. “Do you mind?” he asked.
Sherlock looked genuinely surprised. His eyes flickered down the length of John’s body, as if taking in his relative nakedness for the first time. That did wonders for the ego, thought John, dryly. Not that he liked being ogled, but, well, it was nice every once in a while. “Oh. I suppose.” Sherlock stood. “If you’d rather, I’ll wait for you in my car.”
Sherlock walked out of the clubhouse. John watched him go, fancying that you could tell just from his walk what sort of fabulous pitcher he was. Then he took a deep breath, thought, John, you are losing your bloody mind, then thought, Oh my God, stop it with the “bloody” nonsense, then, But he is bloody hot, isn’t he?, and then, Bloody hell, and reached for his clothing.