Fic Rec: Dust and Ashes
Title: Dust and Ashes
Author: Atiki
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Length: 10,000 words
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Suicidal ideation, minor character deaths, pet death
Verse: Sherlock BBC
Author's summary: John becomes used to it. If he’s perfectly honest with himself, he’s become used to it a long time ago. At night, things are different. The darkness tickles his skin and the cemetery is the loudest place in the world and he tastes dust and iron on his tongue when he hears them talk. In the dark, the bones whisper.
And sometimes John whispers back.
Reccer's comments: This is something a little different. In this AU (not series 3 compliant), John can hear the bones of dead people, and he can talk back to them as well. It makes for an intriguing, if a bit macabre, premise. What makes it truly unique, is that the most interesting character in the story is Sherlock's skull. Per the author's tag, the skull is a bit of an asshole, and yet ends up being the impetus John needs to face his fears and acknowledge his feelings.
The story follows John from childhood all the way through Sherlock's Fall and eventual Return. The language evokes within the reader all of the emotions that John is feeling as he deals with his mixed blessing/curse. A highlight for me is a scene during which John puts his unique skill to use in solving a crime before Sherlock does.
A warning: there is some suicidal ideation here, and at the very start of the story there is a pet death that may be upsetting.
A lovely story. Here is a sneak peek:
He realises seconds later that the whispering around him has stopped. It’s silent.
The cemetery is quiet, the dead are holding their breath, enveloping him in stunned, suffocating silence.
A declaration of love is not what those bones are used to. He has surprised them; overwhelmed them, probably.
He doesn’t flee the cemetery this time. He walks slowly, careful not to stub his toe on a gravestone in the darkness. He stops twice, to brush dirt off of his knees and to rub his temples because his head is spinning violently enough to make him lose balance.
He wonders what it’s like for his bones, to be heard. He walks on their territory and disturbs them, rouses them from slumber, listens. The dead are supposed to rest. Maybe they fear him as much as he used to fear them when he was younger.
Maybe the bones don’t haunt him, after all.
Maybe it’s he who haunts them.
Author: Atiki
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Length: 10,000 words
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Suicidal ideation, minor character deaths, pet death
Verse: Sherlock BBC
Author's summary: John becomes used to it. If he’s perfectly honest with himself, he’s become used to it a long time ago. At night, things are different. The darkness tickles his skin and the cemetery is the loudest place in the world and he tastes dust and iron on his tongue when he hears them talk. In the dark, the bones whisper.
And sometimes John whispers back.
Reccer's comments: This is something a little different. In this AU (not series 3 compliant), John can hear the bones of dead people, and he can talk back to them as well. It makes for an intriguing, if a bit macabre, premise. What makes it truly unique, is that the most interesting character in the story is Sherlock's skull. Per the author's tag, the skull is a bit of an asshole, and yet ends up being the impetus John needs to face his fears and acknowledge his feelings.
The story follows John from childhood all the way through Sherlock's Fall and eventual Return. The language evokes within the reader all of the emotions that John is feeling as he deals with his mixed blessing/curse. A highlight for me is a scene during which John puts his unique skill to use in solving a crime before Sherlock does.
A warning: there is some suicidal ideation here, and at the very start of the story there is a pet death that may be upsetting.
A lovely story. Here is a sneak peek:
He realises seconds later that the whispering around him has stopped. It’s silent.
The cemetery is quiet, the dead are holding their breath, enveloping him in stunned, suffocating silence.
A declaration of love is not what those bones are used to. He has surprised them; overwhelmed them, probably.
He doesn’t flee the cemetery this time. He walks slowly, careful not to stub his toe on a gravestone in the darkness. He stops twice, to brush dirt off of his knees and to rub his temples because his head is spinning violently enough to make him lose balance.
He wonders what it’s like for his bones, to be heard. He walks on their territory and disturbs them, rouses them from slumber, listens. The dead are supposed to rest. Maybe they fear him as much as he used to fear them when he was younger.
Maybe the bones don’t haunt him, after all.
Maybe it’s he who haunts them.