[Fic] 2 Sherlock Holmes Fics.
Tittle: The Reason.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Length: 400+
Summary: Sherlock never cared for reasons before.
Warning: Nothing
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock BBC.
He was a monster, even if they couldn't say it on his face, he had always known that he is an abomination, that he could never be like them because he never was created to be among them. It had always been the reason why his Mummy and Mycroft were so keen on controlling him, on putting him on a tight leash. They are afraid, you see, of what he is capable of-- a bored psycho is never a good thing after all- that anytime now he'd be the one who'll start killing just for the sake of fun, of the adventure.
This should have made him upset, revolted even, but he ignored them, allowed them to not think otherwise.
It had also been that fear that triggered them from throwing controlled puppets on his way-- Lestrade, Donovan, Anderson- to calm down the demon inside him, and the fear inside them. Pathetic, if you will ask, but he allowed them into his life. Made them think they could enter inside his walls and strip him of his pride.
All this time he had been watching, laughing from a distance as they waste their life.
They never meant a thing anyways, they always were.
Mycroft knew, he always does, but he could careless either. He had also been a monster like him, more than him, but he gets his kicks from controlling the world, while he reveled in the affronted looks of those who can't understand him.
But all of them changed--such is life-- upon the entrance of a man wearing a jumper and an innocent, albeit hunted, smile. Knowing but not caring a thing. A monster on the inside but with a child like countenance on the outside-they never understood him, called him weak, and only saw him as a man who had a limp. Foolish humans.
He came like the wind, strong and proud even with his psychosomatic disability, he made him think he had already figured him out. But the more he stayed beside the man the more he doubted.
He treated him like a normal human-not that he wanted to be treated like one-- praised him when he's right and bravely scowled when he's wrong. He also managed to get through his lowest of the low. All with that wide blue praising eyes and knowing smiles.
He knew he was once tried to be manipulated too-he never bothered to hide it from him, such faith--, to be put on a leash by those who wanted him to stay put. But he did not bowed, he never heed to their demands.
And, all this time, it must have been the reason why he stayed when the others could not.
~ * ~
Title: The Game
Rating: PG
Pairing: Mentions of Sherlock/John
Fandom: Sherlock BBC, Saw (You heard it right, my love.)
Length: 350+
Summary: This is a game.
Warning: Aside from the fact that it’s short, mentions of violence.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock BBC.
Hello Doctor John Watson, I want to play a game.
Your obsession with the man you called your colleague has robbed you of your life and also of those around you. You have abused all your means of resource to the extent of tearing apart your once peaceful, albeit deteriorating, life just to remain beside that mans' side. You have lost your only remaining family, the promise to the cause of your former organization, and the peace you've made to yourself, even killed a man just for the sake of his living. But in return you've gained your health, which you are starting to abuse just to keep up with the man's ways. But you will not give up, won't you? Now we will see if you could overcome this obsession.
This is a game; you have found yourself locked in a room with no key. A ticking bomb is placed on your jacket, sensing every wasted second, every attempts failed, mocking you for your inability to know the false from the truth-- no doubt you remember that device attached to you, it is the same thing which you used to defuse on your former assignments in Afghanistan, the same device which killed many innocent civilians just to quench your flat-mate's boredom. The only way to escape is to find your way out of there, all while searching for a way to prevent the bomb from detonating and sending you to your immediate death.
~ * ~
Hello Consultant Detective Sherlock Holmes, I want to play a game. I'm sure you would have liked that too, right?
This is a game; you have found yourself in a room, the key is in your hands, but the choice is not yours. A friend is locked inside that room with you, and a bomb is attached to his body, like a second skin. The master of the game is just hiding in the shadows, laughing, mocking you for allowing that man inside your skin- the very skin and walls you've prevented from allowing everyone in. The choice is yours, to leave him and to escape on your own, to abandon that weakness as you have become his own.
I want to play a game, and the choice is yours.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Length: 400+
Summary: Sherlock never cared for reasons before.
Warning: Nothing
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock BBC.
He was a monster, even if they couldn't say it on his face, he had always known that he is an abomination, that he could never be like them because he never was created to be among them. It had always been the reason why his Mummy and Mycroft were so keen on controlling him, on putting him on a tight leash. They are afraid, you see, of what he is capable of-- a bored psycho is never a good thing after all- that anytime now he'd be the one who'll start killing just for the sake of fun, of the adventure.
This should have made him upset, revolted even, but he ignored them, allowed them to not think otherwise.
It had also been that fear that triggered them from throwing controlled puppets on his way-- Lestrade, Donovan, Anderson- to calm down the demon inside him, and the fear inside them. Pathetic, if you will ask, but he allowed them into his life. Made them think they could enter inside his walls and strip him of his pride.
All this time he had been watching, laughing from a distance as they waste their life.
They never meant a thing anyways, they always were.
Mycroft knew, he always does, but he could careless either. He had also been a monster like him, more than him, but he gets his kicks from controlling the world, while he reveled in the affronted looks of those who can't understand him.
But all of them changed--such is life-- upon the entrance of a man wearing a jumper and an innocent, albeit hunted, smile. Knowing but not caring a thing. A monster on the inside but with a child like countenance on the outside-they never understood him, called him weak, and only saw him as a man who had a limp. Foolish humans.
He came like the wind, strong and proud even with his psychosomatic disability, he made him think he had already figured him out. But the more he stayed beside the man the more he doubted.
He treated him like a normal human-not that he wanted to be treated like one-- praised him when he's right and bravely scowled when he's wrong. He also managed to get through his lowest of the low. All with that wide blue praising eyes and knowing smiles.
He knew he was once tried to be manipulated too-he never bothered to hide it from him, such faith--, to be put on a leash by those who wanted him to stay put. But he did not bowed, he never heed to their demands.
And, all this time, it must have been the reason why he stayed when the others could not.
~ * ~
Title: The Game
Rating: PG
Pairing: Mentions of Sherlock/John
Fandom: Sherlock BBC, Saw (You heard it right, my love.)
Length: 350+
Summary: This is a game.
Warning: Aside from the fact that it’s short, mentions of violence.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock BBC.
Hello Doctor John Watson, I want to play a game.
Your obsession with the man you called your colleague has robbed you of your life and also of those around you. You have abused all your means of resource to the extent of tearing apart your once peaceful, albeit deteriorating, life just to remain beside that mans' side. You have lost your only remaining family, the promise to the cause of your former organization, and the peace you've made to yourself, even killed a man just for the sake of his living. But in return you've gained your health, which you are starting to abuse just to keep up with the man's ways. But you will not give up, won't you? Now we will see if you could overcome this obsession.
This is a game; you have found yourself locked in a room with no key. A ticking bomb is placed on your jacket, sensing every wasted second, every attempts failed, mocking you for your inability to know the false from the truth-- no doubt you remember that device attached to you, it is the same thing which you used to defuse on your former assignments in Afghanistan, the same device which killed many innocent civilians just to quench your flat-mate's boredom. The only way to escape is to find your way out of there, all while searching for a way to prevent the bomb from detonating and sending you to your immediate death.
~ * ~
Hello Consultant Detective Sherlock Holmes, I want to play a game. I'm sure you would have liked that too, right?
This is a game; you have found yourself in a room, the key is in your hands, but the choice is not yours. A friend is locked inside that room with you, and a bomb is attached to his body, like a second skin. The master of the game is just hiding in the shadows, laughing, mocking you for allowing that man inside your skin- the very skin and walls you've prevented from allowing everyone in. The choice is yours, to leave him and to escape on your own, to abandon that weakness as you have become his own.
I want to play a game, and the choice is yours.