Prompting Part XXXV

Mar 30, 2014 11:33


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  • prompting: 35, prompt posts

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    Fill: The Light Long Gone (6b/?) tenderly_wicked July 12 2014, 20:52:55 UTC
    Sherlock looks elsewhere and doesn’t say anything, but there’s no need for it. John can imagine him, disoriented like he was tonight, unsure about what’s real and what’s not, desperate to shake this uncertainty off. That was what he’d felt himself when he’d had his PTSD moments. And yet he’d failed to notice anything. There’s some irony to it that Sherlock’s worst nightmare is you. His bloody best friend.

    “Sherlock… When you’ve returned…” John chokes on his words. “Oh Christ, I saw the dates on the DVD cases. It’s just a few days before that.” There must have been fresh wounds under Sherlock’s perfect tuxedo. And you hit him. Not just once, not twice, but three times. Surely it had done no good to Sherlock’s recent injuries. “Why couldn’t you tell me then… Why show-off instead…”

    Sherlock cuts him short: “What exactly should I have said? John, I’m not dead but I feel like I’d rather be, so leave the woman you were going to propose to and come home with me? What for? So that you would go with me out of pity, and maybe stay for some time, until I heal, and I wouldn’t have to squeeze forgiveness out of you? And then what?”

    He grabs the edge of the sheet with both hands, crumples it convulsively. They probably both look strange, sitting in bed fully clothed, a thought gallops through John’s mind.

    “I might be selfish, John,” Sherlock continues, very quietly, “but I’m also vain. No matter how badly I might want to return to what we had before, it would have been excruciating to be only an object of compassion. I wanted to show you that nothing had changed. That it’s still me. That I’m still… fun. So that you would join me not out of mercy but because you wanted to-but of course it’s for the best that you didn’t, because I’m not the same, and you’d have seen it sooner or later. Like you did now.”

    There must be a jumble of emotions on John’s face: when Sherlock looks up at him, he lets out a small laugh. “Oh, that’s what I’m talking about. Believe me, it’s highly unpleasant to witness how someone who used to admire you suddenly realizes you’re weak and pathetic just like any other man. I already went through it with Molly. It’s so much easier with someone who doesn’t care from the start and just wants something from you, like Seb. He wasn’t disappointed with my weakness; he enjoyed it. But you wouldn’t, John. You liked me being a hero, being Sherlock Holmes, brilliant and indestructible. Unfortunately, dragon slayers don’t always return from their glorious quests unscathed. Unlike the nicely embellished fictions on your blog, real life might be much more ugly.” His lips quiver in a bitter grin. “If you could try to forget it all, it would be… kind of you. I don’t want you to remember me like this. By the way, if you regret hitting me, forget it too. I was on heavy painkillers back then. It’s not like I felt much.”

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