Commentary meme part the first
The Sherlock ficlet In the Dark, as requested by order_of_chaos .
For perhaps obvious reasons, I tend to think of this ficlet as my vampire!Sherlock ficlet. I wrote it after having watched (and watched and watched and... you get the idea)this little vid, which admittedly isn't a great work of art, but, well - I like the idea. The idea of Sherlock-as-vampire. Particularly because you wouldn't necessarily have to change canon (certainly not the characterization) in any way for it to work - just, Sherlock's a vampire, sunlight not an issue to his subtype (modern pop cultural ridiculousness does not apply to him, thank you very much, possibly he's deleted everything post-Anne Rice (or even post-Bram Stoker) and he certainly doesn't sparkle), and the occasional pint of blood in the fridge would probably rank fairly low compared to eye balls...
Unconsciousness fades into darkness and the sort of dull pain he knows will be a lot worse later. He feels trapped, something heavy on top of him, and he can’t see. In case it's not obvious, this is set immediately after the finale - and the roof has collapsed. On top of our intrepid heroes. Ouch.
Somewhere close there’s a slurping sound. Vampire!Sherlock has something feline about him to my mind - lapping up blood rather than sucking it
He supposes he should be afraid, should cry for help, should try to push whatever is on top of him off. He must be trapped under something, surely he should be trying to… but he’s tired and he can’t think. which might possibly have to do with him bleeding out Not right now. Later. Later he’ll do all those things.
Somewhere far off is a sound and suddenly it drizzles what must be dust into his eyes. He blinks, trying to clear them, shakes his head - and suddenly he needs to cough, and he can’t, there’s not enough air, he can’t breathe because of whatever is lying on him and he can’t move it and… I actually chose not to write anything longer or more elaborate than this quite deliberately, because while I'm loving the idea of vampire!Sherlock, then I didn't feel to tackling the whole world-building thing. I mean, there's so many questions you'd have to answer: What sort of vampire rules does this universe have? How did Sherlock become a blooddrinking creature of the night? Does Mycroft know he's a vampire? (What am I saying? This is Mycroft - of course he knows.) Is Mycroft a vampire - part of a secret vampire elite ruling the world from the shadows? Etc. etc. etc. Even if I wasn't going to put it all into a longer fic, I'd have to know. I'd need to have a whole urban fantasy verse in my head, practically. And I just wasn't up for that. So I picked John's POV, held it tight, and made it just a moment in time. No explanations given.
And then it moves, lifting ever so slightly, letting him breathe, even as more dust rains over him, and when he looks he sees a pair of glowing eyes, and the only thing he can think is “how the hell did a cat again - feline (though really, he's pretty catlike whether he's a vampire or not, when you think about it) get trapped in here?” - except then they’re gone and he supposes he must have been seeing things.
“Hello?”, because obviously the heavy thing on top of him must be a person if it can move like that, and the person standing closest to him when the bomb went off was “Sherlock? Is that you?”
“Yes. Sherlock's not being very talkative in this ficlet, is he? Two words and normally you can't shut him up...” Cool fingers find his in the darkness, tangle reassuringly.
“Are you alright?”, because he knows he isn’t, knows he’s going to be going straight to the hospital once someone manages to dig them out, and if Sherlock is on top of him, has been shielding him typical John, really - his damages can't get him worked up, but the thought of Sherlock having gotten squished by a falling roof- it’s not a nice thought.
“Yes,” and his hand is squeezed, firmly, and somehow he finds himself breathing calmly again. Panic derailed by vampiric boyfriend being calm and reassuring. And apropos absolutely nothing, I was actually sort of disappointed by Sherlock fandom having grown too big before Yuletide, because I was halfway planning to ask for ace!vampire!Sherlock as a request, just to be weird ;-) Ah well... (or ace!incubus!Sherlock - except that would be drawing eating-disorder comparisons to asexuality, so no, probably not a good idea, probably a slightly fucked-up idea.).
He turns his head, spotting a tiny spot of light, dancing as if it’s reflected by water.
Somewhere, in the darkness he’s not looking at, the slurping sound resumes. It’s strangely soothing, he thinks, before sliding back under. Again, I deliberately left the ficlet short and open to interpretation - personally, I half suspect that John is going to wake up in hospital and wonder why Sherlock isn't more hurt than he is, but I don't know. That's actually something I kind of like - not absolutely knowing what's going on outside my own stories. Maybe he's bleeding a lot worse than I thought, maybe he's dying here, maybe Sherlock got broken by the collapsing roof and can't do anything really except lapping up the blood, trying to get enough strength to dig them out, except maybe he's not fast enough, and maybe he turns John at the last moment rather than loose him, but maybe he's too broken himself, too weak, and maybe John dies and man, if that's the case, I suspect Moriarty needs to start running and praying. Yeah. Did I ever mention I seem to have an angst-muse hanging about on my shoulder these days?
For perhaps obvious reasons, I tend to think of this ficlet as my vampire!Sherlock ficlet. I wrote it after having watched (and watched and watched and... you get the idea)this little vid, which admittedly isn't a great work of art, but, well - I like the idea. The idea of Sherlock-as-vampire. Particularly because you wouldn't necessarily have to change canon (certainly not the characterization) in any way for it to work - just, Sherlock's a vampire, sunlight not an issue to his subtype (modern pop cultural ridiculousness does not apply to him, thank you very much, possibly he's deleted everything post-Anne Rice (or even post-Bram Stoker) and he certainly doesn't sparkle), and the occasional pint of blood in the fridge would probably rank fairly low compared to eye balls...
Unconsciousness fades into darkness and the sort of dull pain he knows will be a lot worse later. He feels trapped, something heavy on top of him, and he can’t see. In case it's not obvious, this is set immediately after the finale - and the roof has collapsed. On top of our intrepid heroes. Ouch.
Somewhere close there’s a slurping sound. Vampire!Sherlock has something feline about him to my mind - lapping up blood rather than sucking it
He supposes he should be afraid, should cry for help, should try to push whatever is on top of him off. He must be trapped under something, surely he should be trying to… but he’s tired and he can’t think. which might possibly have to do with him bleeding out Not right now. Later. Later he’ll do all those things.
Somewhere far off is a sound and suddenly it drizzles what must be dust into his eyes. He blinks, trying to clear them, shakes his head - and suddenly he needs to cough, and he can’t, there’s not enough air, he can’t breathe because of whatever is lying on him and he can’t move it and… I actually chose not to write anything longer or more elaborate than this quite deliberately, because while I'm loving the idea of vampire!Sherlock, then I didn't feel to tackling the whole world-building thing. I mean, there's so many questions you'd have to answer: What sort of vampire rules does this universe have? How did Sherlock become a blooddrinking creature of the night? Does Mycroft know he's a vampire? (What am I saying? This is Mycroft - of course he knows.) Is Mycroft a vampire - part of a secret vampire elite ruling the world from the shadows? Etc. etc. etc. Even if I wasn't going to put it all into a longer fic, I'd have to know. I'd need to have a whole urban fantasy verse in my head, practically. And I just wasn't up for that. So I picked John's POV, held it tight, and made it just a moment in time. No explanations given.
And then it moves, lifting ever so slightly, letting him breathe, even as more dust rains over him, and when he looks he sees a pair of glowing eyes, and the only thing he can think is “how the hell did a cat again - feline (though really, he's pretty catlike whether he's a vampire or not, when you think about it) get trapped in here?” - except then they’re gone and he supposes he must have been seeing things.
“Hello?”, because obviously the heavy thing on top of him must be a person if it can move like that, and the person standing closest to him when the bomb went off was “Sherlock? Is that you?”
“Yes. Sherlock's not being very talkative in this ficlet, is he? Two words and normally you can't shut him up...” Cool fingers find his in the darkness, tangle reassuringly.
“Are you alright?”, because he knows he isn’t, knows he’s going to be going straight to the hospital once someone manages to dig them out, and if Sherlock is on top of him, has been shielding him typical John, really - his damages can't get him worked up, but the thought of Sherlock having gotten squished by a falling roof- it’s not a nice thought.
“Yes,” and his hand is squeezed, firmly, and somehow he finds himself breathing calmly again. Panic derailed by vampiric boyfriend being calm and reassuring. And apropos absolutely nothing, I was actually sort of disappointed by Sherlock fandom having grown too big before Yuletide, because I was halfway planning to ask for ace!vampire!Sherlock as a request, just to be weird ;-) Ah well... (or ace!incubus!Sherlock - except that would be drawing eating-disorder comparisons to asexuality, so no, probably not a good idea, probably a slightly fucked-up idea.).
He turns his head, spotting a tiny spot of light, dancing as if it’s reflected by water.
Somewhere, in the darkness he’s not looking at, the slurping sound resumes. It’s strangely soothing, he thinks, before sliding back under. Again, I deliberately left the ficlet short and open to interpretation - personally, I half suspect that John is going to wake up in hospital and wonder why Sherlock isn't more hurt than he is, but I don't know. That's actually something I kind of like - not absolutely knowing what's going on outside my own stories. Maybe he's bleeding a lot worse than I thought, maybe he's dying here, maybe Sherlock got broken by the collapsing roof and can't do anything really except lapping up the blood, trying to get enough strength to dig them out, except maybe he's not fast enough, and maybe he turns John at the last moment rather than loose him, but maybe he's too broken himself, too weak, and maybe John dies and man, if that's the case, I suspect Moriarty needs to start running and praying. Yeah. Did I ever mention I seem to have an angst-muse hanging about on my shoulder these days?