Fic: Overreaction [BBC Sherlock}
Title: Overreaction
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating PG
Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes
Length: 221B
Alternate Link: AO3
Author's Notes: Written for the watsons_woes JWP Prompt #11: Save the bees. Unbeta'd and written while half-asleep, so please feel free to offer con-crit.
Summary: The confrontation with Moriarty has left its mark on each of them.
It was a quiet evening in 221B. Sherlock lay on the couch in a near-doze, his transport still in recovery from the deprivations of the game with Moriarty.
John settled into his arm chair with a newspaper. Sherlock flopped over on the couch to face him.
John gave a short, startled inhale. "No, don't - don't move," John said, hushed and urgent, his gaze focused on Sherlock's forehead.
Sherlock tensed, adrenaline flooding his system. Laser sight from a sniper? No, impossible, the angle was all wrong for a shot through the window.
John inched forward, holding out his paper. Sherlock remained motionless, heart pounding. Sherlock felt the paper brush his forehead, and then John was moving rapidly across the room towards the window.
John threw the window open and held his paper out. Sherlock caught a glimpse of a tiny yellow shape as it escaped out the window.
Sherlock sagged into the couch, relieved and slightly nauseous. "That," he said, "was a ridiculous overreaction on your part. It's not as if I have a bee sting allergy." Although … "Do you? No, of course not, you would have avoided the bee if you had, not put it out. So why so cautious?"
John shrugged, refolding his paper. "A sting wouldn't have been fatal to you," he explained, "but it would to the bee."
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating PG
Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes
Length: 221B
Alternate Link: AO3
Author's Notes: Written for the watsons_woes JWP Prompt #11: Save the bees. Unbeta'd and written while half-asleep, so please feel free to offer con-crit.
Summary: The confrontation with Moriarty has left its mark on each of them.
It was a quiet evening in 221B. Sherlock lay on the couch in a near-doze, his transport still in recovery from the deprivations of the game with Moriarty.
John settled into his arm chair with a newspaper. Sherlock flopped over on the couch to face him.
John gave a short, startled inhale. "No, don't - don't move," John said, hushed and urgent, his gaze focused on Sherlock's forehead.
Sherlock tensed, adrenaline flooding his system. Laser sight from a sniper? No, impossible, the angle was all wrong for a shot through the window.
John inched forward, holding out his paper. Sherlock remained motionless, heart pounding. Sherlock felt the paper brush his forehead, and then John was moving rapidly across the room towards the window.
John threw the window open and held his paper out. Sherlock caught a glimpse of a tiny yellow shape as it escaped out the window.
Sherlock sagged into the couch, relieved and slightly nauseous. "That," he said, "was a ridiculous overreaction on your part. It's not as if I have a bee sting allergy." Although … "Do you? No, of course not, you would have avoided the bee if you had, not put it out. So why so cautious?"
John shrugged, refolding his paper. "A sting wouldn't have been fatal to you," he explained, "but it would to the bee."