Overflow Post
This post is for responding to prompts from prompt posts that are full, or continuing WIPs that have already been started but the prompt post is now full or near to full.
PLEASE POST ALL NEW FILLS TO THE NEW OVERFLOW POST!( Read more... )
PLEASE POST ALL NEW FILLS TO THE NEW OVERFLOW POST!( Read more... )
“Five years ago, she killed her children. Carbon monoxide poisoning. She made it appear that her furnace had failed. One night she sabotaged her furnace. She’d closed off the vent to her room, but left the one in the children’s wide open. Then she waited. The two year old and eight month old in their sleep and she had a very convincing case of poisoning herself.”
“Could it have been an accident?” asked John.
“Her behavior afterwards suggests not. Far from being the torn and grieving mother, she basked in the attention she was given. Since then, she has taken up lifestyle she couldn’t have done with two small children. But there was no direct evidence against her. For the last three months I have been seeing her at various pubs. She was positively aching for male appreciation, so it wasn’t difficult to make myself essential to her life. I convinced her to stop smoking and extolled on the merits of Varenicline. She eagerly did whatever I asked. Then, once I’d seen the drug having some effect on her mood, I said some very cutting remarks that brought her to tears. But still, even then, she could have run, but she was so in desperate need of my masculine approval that she let me take her to that building on the pretense of romance. She walked to the edge with doe-like trust, and I shoved her off before she had a chance to react.”
It made sense. Sherlock who could arrange all the clues he needed to solve the case wrong. It was clever. Horribly clever. John had no doubt that when Sherlock killed him (and really was there a doubt of that?) he’d take the time to craft the circumstances just as elegantly. Only one element didn’t fit.
“The happy face,” said John. “Why? It seems like an obvious calling card. Do you want to get caught?”
But Sherlock just grinned wider. “I did get caught,” said Sherlock. “By you. I did that for you. And you saw it, you put two and two together and got me.”
“You wanted me to know.” Horrible as it was, John was flattered.
“Yes. I want to share this with you John. You and I can make this world a better place. We can punish those the law will not. It will be… exciting.” Sherlock’s eyes danced.
“Exciting,” repeated John. Yes it would be. Life and death in his hands? The power to carve the world into a better place, not through the clumsy, long, imperfect methods of law, but with the clean, decisive way of the scalpel. Like cutting out a cancer.
Sherlock seemed to sense his thoughts. The pistol slowly moved downwards, from John’s brain, to his heart, to his groin and then finally to the floor between his feet. Sherlock stared at him, his gaze never moving from John’s eyes, as if he could bore in through the pupils to John’s soul.
“What do you say, John. I know a not very nice dentist who has put two ex-girlfriends and a wife into the grave. Shall Karma catch up to him tonight?”
John swallowed. “Will the spray paint-“
“Stays home. It’s purpose is done.” Sherlock’s smile widened. “Well, John? Are you game?”
John took a deep breath, and a feeling of something - excitement, pleasure, fun? - exploded in his chest. “Yes,” he said, breathily. “Oh god, yes. Count me in.”
The fear and doubt fell aside. John felt alive.
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John's stepped over the ledge into madness a bit here.
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That was brilliant, my face doesn't quite know which expression to make, trust me it's not pretty.
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that is all
oh hi thar stranger :D
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Ha ha! Yeah. Now that I reread this all my repeated and missing words kinda glare out at me... urgh.
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