Fic Rec: Don't Is Not the Same as Haven't
Title: Don't Is Not the Same as Haven't
Author: Impractical Beekeeping
Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/Victor Trevor
Length: 45900 words
Rating: Mature
Verse: BBC
Author's summary: When Sherlock Holmes told John Watson he didn't have friends, it wasn't the same as saying he never had.
In 1995, he steps on a dog's paw in a darkened chapel. The resultant wound is a minor thing, but the friendship he forges with Victor Trevor will leave scars for years to come.
Reccer's comments: "You never heard me talk of Victor Trevor?"
The Adventure of the Gloria Scott is quite the fanfic fodder - many a stories have been written about Sherlock’s first friend and his first case. Here’s another retelling of the ACD story.
I absolutely loved this fic. It’s brilliantly written, incredibly tender, moving and angsty in places (you can see the moment when things start to go downhill but it doesn't make it any less heartbreaking), with characters one feels almost compelled to sympathize with. I love this Victor Trevor to bits. He’s not quite the opposite of Sherlock but he’s a great complement to him. If Sherlock is science, Victor is poetry - he’s charming and romantic while Sherlock’s still his prickly self, even if he still isn’t the man he’ll become, and he's a bit more naïve than his friend in the matters of the heart. They both are intelligent and lonely young men, though in Victor’s case it’s not his personality so much as his disability that sets him apart from his peers. He’s also a literature enthusiast and the fic contains a rich imagery and many literary references (and if you like Mycroft as much as I do, here’s a young Mycroft subtly working his way up the ladder while watching over his baby brother.)
I don’t think my review could do this fic justice - just go read it if anything about it sounds interesting to you, I promise you won’t be disappointed.
[Here's an excerpt]Excerpt: If [Victor] thinks Sherlock is a freak, he doesn’t show it.
It is only natural, then, to talk for hours, in a seamless, quicksilver flow. Sherlock forgets the dog bite, his cigarettes, and anything that isn’t now, isn’t them talking about absolutely everything.
As grey light streaks through the chapel windows, Sherlock stares at Victor: openly, unblinkingly-an unusual luxury-and thinks, Your eyes see me but you do not. The novelty is captivating.
“I hear birds,” Victor says, a moment later. “Rosy-fingered dawn spoils another evening’s entertainment.”
“Rosy-fingered dawn?” Sherlock repeats.
“Nosiest of all the Homeric gods.” Victor smiles ruefully, and adds “I suppose, though, that this means I’d best return and get myself sorted out before my tutor sends out a search party. People do seem to get unaccountably worried when they think they’ve misplaced me.”
“Yes, of course,” Sherlock says. Even to himself, he sounds disappointed.
“Is it too strange if I say that I’m glad this happened? Not the dog bite, obviously. The rest of it. Meeting a sort of intellectual kindred spirit, I mean.” Victor is feeling about for the dog’s harness as he speaks, but his face is turned towards Sherlock. “Do you agree?”
“I...yes. Certainly the best time I’ve ever had in a chapel. Not that the bar was set terribly high before now.”
“So we should do it again?” Victor’s smile is open and warm.
“Absolutely,” Sherlock agrees, without hesitation.
“Walk me home then, so you know where to find me in future. You can see where I live and tell me if it’s as hideous as I suspect.”
Author: Impractical Beekeeping
Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/Victor Trevor
Length: 45900 words
Rating: Mature
Verse: BBC
Author's summary: When Sherlock Holmes told John Watson he didn't have friends, it wasn't the same as saying he never had.
In 1995, he steps on a dog's paw in a darkened chapel. The resultant wound is a minor thing, but the friendship he forges with Victor Trevor will leave scars for years to come.
Reccer's comments: "You never heard me talk of Victor Trevor?"
The Adventure of the Gloria Scott is quite the fanfic fodder - many a stories have been written about Sherlock’s first friend and his first case. Here’s another retelling of the ACD story.
I absolutely loved this fic. It’s brilliantly written, incredibly tender, moving and angsty in places (you can see the moment when things start to go downhill but it doesn't make it any less heartbreaking), with characters one feels almost compelled to sympathize with. I love this Victor Trevor to bits. He’s not quite the opposite of Sherlock but he’s a great complement to him. If Sherlock is science, Victor is poetry - he’s charming and romantic while Sherlock’s still his prickly self, even if he still isn’t the man he’ll become, and he's a bit more naïve than his friend in the matters of the heart. They both are intelligent and lonely young men, though in Victor’s case it’s not his personality so much as his disability that sets him apart from his peers. He’s also a literature enthusiast and the fic contains a rich imagery and many literary references (and if you like Mycroft as much as I do, here’s a young Mycroft subtly working his way up the ladder while watching over his baby brother.)
I don’t think my review could do this fic justice - just go read it if anything about it sounds interesting to you, I promise you won’t be disappointed.
[Here's an excerpt]Excerpt: If [Victor] thinks Sherlock is a freak, he doesn’t show it.
It is only natural, then, to talk for hours, in a seamless, quicksilver flow. Sherlock forgets the dog bite, his cigarettes, and anything that isn’t now, isn’t them talking about absolutely everything.
As grey light streaks through the chapel windows, Sherlock stares at Victor: openly, unblinkingly-an unusual luxury-and thinks, Your eyes see me but you do not. The novelty is captivating.
“I hear birds,” Victor says, a moment later. “Rosy-fingered dawn spoils another evening’s entertainment.”
“Rosy-fingered dawn?” Sherlock repeats.
“Nosiest of all the Homeric gods.” Victor smiles ruefully, and adds “I suppose, though, that this means I’d best return and get myself sorted out before my tutor sends out a search party. People do seem to get unaccountably worried when they think they’ve misplaced me.”
“Yes, of course,” Sherlock says. Even to himself, he sounds disappointed.
“Is it too strange if I say that I’m glad this happened? Not the dog bite, obviously. The rest of it. Meeting a sort of intellectual kindred spirit, I mean.” Victor is feeling about for the dog’s harness as he speaks, but his face is turned towards Sherlock. “Do you agree?”
“I...yes. Certainly the best time I’ve ever had in a chapel. Not that the bar was set terribly high before now.”
“So we should do it again?” Victor’s smile is open and warm.
“Absolutely,” Sherlock agrees, without hesitation.
“Walk me home then, so you know where to find me in future. You can see where I live and tell me if it’s as hideous as I suspect.”