Prompt Post Part XXVIII
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IMPORTANT! Spoilers for aired episodes are now being allowed on this area of the meme, without warning. If you do not want to encounter spoilers, please prompt at our Spoiler-Free Prompt Post.
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IMPORTANT! Spoilers for aired episodes are now being allowed on this area of the meme, without warning. If you do not want to encounter spoilers, please prompt at our Spoiler-Free Prompt Post.
( Read more... )
It's a charming cottage, and John imagines it will require little effort to make it feel like a home.
As he waits for the kettle to boil, he wanders to the sitting room. He's found the perfect spot for his desk, near enough to the fire to be cosy on winter evenings. Perhaps he'll finally do as Greg suggests and edit his old blog posts together into book form.
For now the room is a forest of boxes. If he doesn't unpack them, the chore won't be done. The hives have Sherlock's full attention.
He turns to the nearest box and opens its flaps.
And he is ambushed.
He stares. Time passes.
"John?" Sherlock's tone makes it clear this isn't the first time he's said the name.
With a deep breath, John pulls himself back to the present. "Look what I found." He holds his discovery up for inspection.
"The ear hat, John? Really."
"I don't suppose there's much call for deerstalking 'round the apiary."
"None at all, actually."
"Right." John continues to inspect the hat in his hand, even when his vision goes a bit soft and blurry.
"John?" Softer this time.
"I asked you for one more miracle, you know." After a time, he blinks up at his friend. It's an old man's self-indulgence, this, but he is an old man, after all, and he reckons he's earned it. "And you gave it to me."
Sherlock considers John with a pale-eyed, unreadable expression, then shifts his weight, clears his throat, and twitches his long, manic fingers. "Yes, well, I asked you for a cup of tea. It seems one of us must live with disappointment."
For a moment neither speaks. John shakes his head.
"You," John says, in solemn tones, "are an idiot."
And there it is, that slightly mad grin that John would follow anywhere.
THE END
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I've just posted an "outtake scene," FYI.
Thanks a million for reading/commenting. You've really made my day!
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It matters not one whit that the others don't speak. He can hear them thinking. Of course he can.
He can hear them reading the headline to themselves, rolling the words off their mental tongues, tasting its scandal: "Suicide of Fake Genius."
He can hear them judging. The Diogenes Club resounds with the echoes of its members' scorn and contempt for his baby brother.
There is more to the story than even this intelligentsia knows. Then again, Mycroft muses, there always is.
In Mycroft's mind there are many mansions; he enters the distant one on the horizon and follows a labyrinth of stairways and corridors to an underground chamber that houses a secret room.
Hardly a room. A cell, rather. A box.
Access requires a retinal scan, a DNA sample, and the recitation of an arcane code phrase in Classical Latin.
He folds his long bulk into the cramped compartment and seals the door behind him.
In that most hidden of places, Mycroft screams.
***
THE END - REALLY!
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Now to go have a cry...
THANK YOU.
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I'm doing the de-anon thing here to say this has been reworked, edited, and polished, and it's now posted here: "Five Boxes."
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