Sherlock: Fending Off Reality
Title: Fending Off Reality
Author:
aerithqoc
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Character death and brief mentions of past violence.
Word Count: 221
Disclaimer: None of the characters, places or things mentioned in this fic belongs to me.
Summary: It's what Sherlock does when he's faced with an emotional situation; he throws himself into his work until he doesn't have to face it anymore. But coming face to face with a dead friend? It should probably be more difficult than that.
A/N: A 221b I wrote because... well, I dunno. Because I wanted to?
~ * ~ * ~
It was remarkable how easily Sherlock fell right back into the swing of things after seeing the crime scene.
Lestrade stood pale in a corner, Donovan snarled about his extreme “inhumanity” from the doorway but Sherlock was too busy looking at the quickly formed bruises on the victim’s arms and the tiny specks of dust collected neatly beside the victim’s outstretched legs to listen.
Perhaps Donovan was right. Perhaps it was indeed cruel of him to point out so concisely that this was yet another victim of the mass murderer that Sherlock had been hounding for the past couple of days, instead of just... why?
Later though, when the police all disappeared to file paperwork, when the coroner arrived to deal with the rest, when Sherlock was allowed a moment to leave and gather his thoughts and when he returned to Apartment 221b, Baker Street... it would all be different.
There would be no ignoring it then. Perhaps he would grieve, perhaps he would even cry. He had never really mourned anyone before but then again no one had ever gotten as close to him as he had-
No no no, don’t think of it now. Keep it together, Sherlock told himself. Save it all for later.
Right now, it was just a body. Not John, not anymore. Just a body.
Author:
aerithqoc
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Character death and brief mentions of past violence.
Word Count: 221
Disclaimer: None of the characters, places or things mentioned in this fic belongs to me.
Summary: It's what Sherlock does when he's faced with an emotional situation; he throws himself into his work until he doesn't have to face it anymore. But coming face to face with a dead friend? It should probably be more difficult than that.
A/N: A 221b I wrote because... well, I dunno. Because I wanted to?
~ * ~ * ~
It was remarkable how easily Sherlock fell right back into the swing of things after seeing the crime scene.
Lestrade stood pale in a corner, Donovan snarled about his extreme “inhumanity” from the doorway but Sherlock was too busy looking at the quickly formed bruises on the victim’s arms and the tiny specks of dust collected neatly beside the victim’s outstretched legs to listen.
Perhaps Donovan was right. Perhaps it was indeed cruel of him to point out so concisely that this was yet another victim of the mass murderer that Sherlock had been hounding for the past couple of days, instead of just... why?
Later though, when the police all disappeared to file paperwork, when the coroner arrived to deal with the rest, when Sherlock was allowed a moment to leave and gather his thoughts and when he returned to Apartment 221b, Baker Street... it would all be different.
There would be no ignoring it then. Perhaps he would grieve, perhaps he would even cry. He had never really mourned anyone before but then again no one had ever gotten as close to him as he had-
No no no, don’t think of it now. Keep it together, Sherlock told himself. Save it all for later.
Right now, it was just a body. Not John, not anymore. Just a body.