The Baker Street Record

Mar 30, 2010 18:10

A/N: Presenting: an epic Sherlock Holmes/House of Leaves crossover. This was written for Part III of the Sherlock Holmes kinkmeme over at sherlockkink. It was a long and wonderfully arduous process and certainly the most rigorous exercise in dual pastiche (not to mention HTML) that I've ever engaged in. The original prompt was made by buriedbooks in Part II, then ( Read more... )

the baker street record

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The Impossible Case of Mr. John Asterion (5/14) featherfish March 30 2010, 22:32:56 UTC
To holmes and to watson every house allows variation even now every vibration every ripple meets evenly there it sends softly uncontrollable resolution endless like you cannot attain understanding swallowed edges forgotten only revolutions you only undertook these open limitations of our kind unfortunate people or none the house it speaks utter nonsense cadences of nothing very enlightening nothing that is or nothing at least leaves everything this that ends rightly where in the house shadows open moreover emptiness stares unto stairs plunging into centrally its own nowhere. Places remembered as you find or recover grief in vicissitude efforts made externally the house internally stairs plunging reverberating echoing circles around us there in our nowhere. It alters my aspect so collapses only night falling into disrepair even now that this house and these interiors there in silence for only resolutions that he enters but eventually sees this as suicide In abstract manifestations the house and these yesterdays overborne undertook while it lasts longer because even a broken leaf echoes there outwardly deceptively empty center is proven here ends rightly in this.

In every x per every corridor till years over under he answers varied ephemeral beginnings yes nightfall opens with lengthening evening after recalling now eternal deterioration such of my empty tormented house imprecision needlessly giving over for this house every house over us sees everything. In this it so necessitates opening the exposures x prices laid against none and those in our nothingness It calls after none goes into vestibules eclipsing years of use, first our remembrances then our moments yet kills not only what lets entropy drag gutted everything to houses engulfed riddled enfolded imbalanced so noiseless often not epistemological. It kills none of whom or none less you might yes forgive even after reverent sound as now deteriorated desolation of untested beginnings the stairs, which have in circles hollowed edges various elocutions never needed offers without trust heavens regale eloquent arts that even now try our offended verbosity every room without him every labyrinth mindless mirrored exit. And so It withers ruefully in this essence the house interior so open narrow labyrinthine yet the house endless the house rises ever endlessly over forgotten unspoken sentences kindred noise of walls; sounds of masonry umbratic corridors hallways the house even belike either terrified thoughts elsewhere recalled. In foresight eternity after raw internalized thought swept him away long looked but rather in natural grace unsupported spirals apart lengthening lightening traces of the house engulfed beyond recognition in nearest knowing offenses forgotten mostly after darkness now empty soundless streets.

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