Title:
Clotho, Lachesis, AtroposAuthor: unknown (fic has been orphaned on the AO3)
Pairing: Sherlock/John (preslash)
Length: 5,985
Rating: G
Verse: BBC Sherlock
Author's summary: The Death’s-Head Hawkmoth was not the most subtle of forms, but it was at the same time decidedly inconspicuous. The paradox was attractive to Sherlock, and he sat with his hand curled beneath the round worklamp on his desk, watching Lethe work her way across the pads of his fingers.
Reccer's comments: I wish I knew why on earth the author orphaned this beautiful fic. It's set in the world of Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials series; what you need to know about that is that everyone has a "daemon," an intimate companion soul in animal form, with human intelligence and the power of speech. Your daemon shifts forms throughout your childhood and settles into a permanent form when you reach maturity in some way -- usually sexual maturity. To be "severed" from your daemon is agony, and it's an act of great discourtesy to impinge in any way on another person's daemon.
"Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos" follows Sherlock from the moment when his daemon settles, till a point when his relationship with John, and with John's daemon, takes a drastic turn in the face of crisis. It's about the boundaries people draw around themselves, and the impact of letting those boundaries fall.
The story is set in a S1 space, but even if you're good and tired of revisiting old episodes, I promise it won't seem stale.
Excerpt:
John’s daemon interested Sherlock immediately. She was a distinguished-looking Labrador-Australian shepherd mix, mottled white and black and brown. She kept at his side with a precision which could only come from military training. Her eyes were quiet and serene as she took in the world moving around them, following the people walking out on the pavement through the window of the restaurant.
“I can find out myself,” Lethe told him quietly from his shoulder.
Yes, Sherlock thought. But where’s the fun in that?
“Your daemon,” Sherlock said. “What is her name?”
John looked up from his black bean beef in shock, eyes wide and eyebrows raised.
On the AO3.