Dandelion Wishes
Title: Dandelion Wishes
Pairing: Sherlock & John (Preslash or gen)
Wordcount: About 1500
Warnings: NONE
Rating: PG
Prompt: Can be found Here. Okay, So it's a lot fluffier and way off topic from the prompt...But I still got my idea from it :)
Summary: "I'm gonna wish on a dandelion."
“Hello,” a voice said to John. “You are watching weeds with fluffy seed pods swinging the wind.”
John was laying on his belly in the grass, head propped on his crossed arms, staring at something close enough to his nose to make him look cross-eyed. “They’re called dandelions,” John said in his high and piping voice.
“Fascinating,” the man said, crouching next to him. “You are eight years old. Why would you know the name of a weed?”
John thought for a moment, nose brushing against the fluffy seeds. “Mum calls them dandy-lions. They kinda look like lion manes.”
From his peripheral John saw the man nod. “That sounds believable, if not very logical.”
“That’s the word Spock uses,” John replied mildly, turning to look at the man.
Crouching at John’s level accentuated his gangly limbs, making him look like a folded up scarecrow. His hands hung, pale and long, off his knees. His dark and curly hair floated around his head in the breeze. “Who’s Spock?” he asked.
His honest confusion caused John to laugh. “Everyone knows Spock!” he exclaimed. “He’s on the telly.”
“Then it’s better if I forget him,” the man explained. “As the telly is no use to me.”
“You speak like him,” John said logically.
“So you say,” the man agreed.
The warm sun beat down on John’s back, warming him through his jumper, and the heat trapped beneath him made the grass sweat and stain his clothing. He blinked at the stranger, then ducked his head into his arms.
“ACHOO!”
“Gesundheit.”
John swiped his nose on his shirtsleeve then said, “That sounded funny.”
“It was German.”
“Huh,” John tilted his head and laid it on his arms so that he could peer up through his lashes at the man.
“You are a peculiar boy,” the man said, quirking his lips into an approximation of a smile.
“For talking to you?”
“Yes. Among other things. Is your mum nearby?”
“She’s with Harry. They’ll be back.”
The man smiled. “You aren’t a normal boy.”
“I could run before you did anything,” John assured him. “If I needed to.”
“I am not threatening you.”
“No. You aren’t.” John closed his eyes, the sun warming his skin.
“What were you doing?”
“Thinking up a wish,” John said simply.
“A wish?” the man asked with interest. “Did someone give you a wish?”
“I’m gonna wish on a dandelion.”
The man's voice seemed full of humor when he repeated, “You are going to wish on a dandelion.” He paused. “A weed can grant a wish?”
“Prolly not,” John answered pragmatically, opening his eyes and returning to watching the perfect dandelion puff that he had spent time hunting down. “But it’s what you do. You blow it out like a candle and make a wish.”
“Who grants it?”
“Dunno.” John shrugged as well as he could while laying on the ground.
“Why are you making a wish?” the man asked, sounding as though he really wanted to know.
“If I answer, can I ask you one too?”
“A question? Certainly. Though, to be fair, you should ask me one for every question I’ve already asked you.”
“How many’s that?”
“Five, counting this one.”
John thought a moment. “You’re smart. I counted six.”
“You asked a question and canceled one of mine out.”
“Fair,” John replied, thinking and watching his dandelion. “I want to wish something nice for me when I grow up.”
“Something nice?”
“Yes,” John watched the fluffy seeds through slitted eyes. “Why are you here?”
“You looked interesting.”
“Do you know anything about me besides my age?”
“You have a brother and a mum, but no father. You’re smart for your age-but not brilliant. You’ve had problems with bullies so someone taught you to defend yourself, including by running away. Probably an uncle or a friend of your mum’s.”
“My father’s brother,” John offered, eyes slipping shut. “That’s one. You ever made a wish?”
“No. But I would like to.”
John lifted his feet in the air and kicked them lazily, smelling the grass. Crickets chirped and children shouted in the playground behind them. In the middle of the field, John and the man were undisturbed.
“What would you wish for?”
“To be free,” the man answered readily, voice suddenly blank.
The crickets and other various noises faded to the background for a moment, but John didn’t notice. Without thinking, he blew at his perfect dandelion and declared, “I wish you were free.”
The man went very, very still.
John opened his eyes and turned to the man with his earnest blue stare. “Everyone deserves to be free.”
After a long moment of staring at John intensely, the man blinked. “You meant that,” he declared.
“Yes.”
“You wished something for me, not yourself.”
John frowned, brows furrowing. “Is that wrong? I wasn’t gonna wish for nothin’ special. Yours seemed more important.”John turned and looked away, his eyes following the seed pods that drifted away in the breeze. “Mum says that giving is better than receiving.”
“You have a wise mum. She reminds me of mine.”
“All mum’s are wise,” John declared.
“Sadly, they are not. But ours are.”
“Do you love your mum?”
“Yes.”
“So do I. Even if she loves Harry more for being littler.”
“I’m sure she loves you just as much. You are a good boy.”
“I want to be a good man. Like my father.”
“An admirable goal.”
“Did you mean it?”
“How do you mean?” the man replied.
“About your wish. About being free. Did you mean it?”
“John,” the man said, prompting John to look up into his steel gray eyes. “I came here to grant you your own wishes, and instead of using any of them you granted one to me, releasing me from any future obligations.”
John blinked, wide-eyes, and processed that information. “I used up my wishes?”
The man nodded.
“You’re a genie?”
“A djinn. Still am, but now I am free.”
John nodded. “You’re welcome.” He turned his head away and blinked solemnly at the stem that once held his perfect dandelion. “How do you know my name?” John asked as the djinn stood and began to move away.
“I guessed.”
The grass crunched as the man strode away, but John didn’t turn to look, feeling the loss of company as the man drew farther and farther from him.
“John!” he heard his mum shout across the park. “Time to go!”
John wriggled forward onto his hand and knees and dropped his head to blow at another dandelion.
“I hope I meet you again,” he whispered into the white cloud of seeds.”
~*~*~
“Changed a lot from my days,” John pronounced, looking around the laboratory at Barts.
“Mike?” a deep voice asked. “May I borrow your phone?”
John looked over and found the voice attached to a man bending over a colorful experiment, curly hair wisping about his head like dandelion fluff.
“Why don’t you use the landline?” Mike asked, sharing an amused glance with John.
“I prefer to text,” the man said with disdain.
Leaning on his cane, John stared at the man, wondering why he seemed familiar to him.
The man turned to look at John and Mike, and the memory finally clicked.
“You are a good boy, John.”
John pulled his phone out and offered it. “Here, use mine. And by the way, Harry is my sister.”
Their eyes locked and the steel gray ones widened.
“Hallo,” John said. “It’s John, and I believe this is my wish coming true.”
The man reached out for the phone and let his fingers brush against John’s.
“You’re a simple man,” he pronounced, turning away and keying his message into John’s phone. “Am I to believe that I was your wish?”
“No, simply meeting you again was.”
The man blinked in surprise and turned to look at John sideways. “Do you like the violin?”
“If it’s played well.”
“Sometimes I don’t talk for days.”
“I like silence, too.”
“I don’t grant wishes anymore,” he warned.
“I only make them on dandelions,” John said with a grin, causing the man to blink again.
“Meet me tomorrow at 7. Sharp,” he ordered, handing the phone back and reaching for his coat. He twirled it on and strode away. “221B Baker street,” he called over his shoulder.
“I don’t even know your name!” John shouted after him.
The man peered back around the door jamb. “It’s Sherlock Holmes, doctor.” He winked, then disappeared.
“John?” Mike asked. “What did he mean by wishes?”
John looked at him solemnly. “That’s what you do with dandelions, isn’t it?”
FIN
Pairing: Sherlock & John (Preslash or gen)
Wordcount: About 1500
Warnings: NONE
Rating: PG
Prompt: Can be found Here. Okay, So it's a lot fluffier and way off topic from the prompt...But I still got my idea from it :)
Summary: "I'm gonna wish on a dandelion."
“Hello,” a voice said to John. “You are watching weeds with fluffy seed pods swinging the wind.”
John was laying on his belly in the grass, head propped on his crossed arms, staring at something close enough to his nose to make him look cross-eyed. “They’re called dandelions,” John said in his high and piping voice.
“Fascinating,” the man said, crouching next to him. “You are eight years old. Why would you know the name of a weed?”
John thought for a moment, nose brushing against the fluffy seeds. “Mum calls them dandy-lions. They kinda look like lion manes.”
From his peripheral John saw the man nod. “That sounds believable, if not very logical.”
“That’s the word Spock uses,” John replied mildly, turning to look at the man.
Crouching at John’s level accentuated his gangly limbs, making him look like a folded up scarecrow. His hands hung, pale and long, off his knees. His dark and curly hair floated around his head in the breeze. “Who’s Spock?” he asked.
His honest confusion caused John to laugh. “Everyone knows Spock!” he exclaimed. “He’s on the telly.”
“Then it’s better if I forget him,” the man explained. “As the telly is no use to me.”
“You speak like him,” John said logically.
“So you say,” the man agreed.
The warm sun beat down on John’s back, warming him through his jumper, and the heat trapped beneath him made the grass sweat and stain his clothing. He blinked at the stranger, then ducked his head into his arms.
“ACHOO!”
“Gesundheit.”
John swiped his nose on his shirtsleeve then said, “That sounded funny.”
“It was German.”
“Huh,” John tilted his head and laid it on his arms so that he could peer up through his lashes at the man.
“You are a peculiar boy,” the man said, quirking his lips into an approximation of a smile.
“For talking to you?”
“Yes. Among other things. Is your mum nearby?”
“She’s with Harry. They’ll be back.”
The man smiled. “You aren’t a normal boy.”
“I could run before you did anything,” John assured him. “If I needed to.”
“I am not threatening you.”
“No. You aren’t.” John closed his eyes, the sun warming his skin.
“What were you doing?”
“Thinking up a wish,” John said simply.
“A wish?” the man asked with interest. “Did someone give you a wish?”
“I’m gonna wish on a dandelion.”
The man's voice seemed full of humor when he repeated, “You are going to wish on a dandelion.” He paused. “A weed can grant a wish?”
“Prolly not,” John answered pragmatically, opening his eyes and returning to watching the perfect dandelion puff that he had spent time hunting down. “But it’s what you do. You blow it out like a candle and make a wish.”
“Who grants it?”
“Dunno.” John shrugged as well as he could while laying on the ground.
“Why are you making a wish?” the man asked, sounding as though he really wanted to know.
“If I answer, can I ask you one too?”
“A question? Certainly. Though, to be fair, you should ask me one for every question I’ve already asked you.”
“How many’s that?”
“Five, counting this one.”
John thought a moment. “You’re smart. I counted six.”
“You asked a question and canceled one of mine out.”
“Fair,” John replied, thinking and watching his dandelion. “I want to wish something nice for me when I grow up.”
“Something nice?”
“Yes,” John watched the fluffy seeds through slitted eyes. “Why are you here?”
“You looked interesting.”
“Do you know anything about me besides my age?”
“You have a brother and a mum, but no father. You’re smart for your age-but not brilliant. You’ve had problems with bullies so someone taught you to defend yourself, including by running away. Probably an uncle or a friend of your mum’s.”
“My father’s brother,” John offered, eyes slipping shut. “That’s one. You ever made a wish?”
“No. But I would like to.”
John lifted his feet in the air and kicked them lazily, smelling the grass. Crickets chirped and children shouted in the playground behind them. In the middle of the field, John and the man were undisturbed.
“What would you wish for?”
“To be free,” the man answered readily, voice suddenly blank.
The crickets and other various noises faded to the background for a moment, but John didn’t notice. Without thinking, he blew at his perfect dandelion and declared, “I wish you were free.”
The man went very, very still.
John opened his eyes and turned to the man with his earnest blue stare. “Everyone deserves to be free.”
After a long moment of staring at John intensely, the man blinked. “You meant that,” he declared.
“Yes.”
“You wished something for me, not yourself.”
John frowned, brows furrowing. “Is that wrong? I wasn’t gonna wish for nothin’ special. Yours seemed more important.”John turned and looked away, his eyes following the seed pods that drifted away in the breeze. “Mum says that giving is better than receiving.”
“You have a wise mum. She reminds me of mine.”
“All mum’s are wise,” John declared.
“Sadly, they are not. But ours are.”
“Do you love your mum?”
“Yes.”
“So do I. Even if she loves Harry more for being littler.”
“I’m sure she loves you just as much. You are a good boy.”
“I want to be a good man. Like my father.”
“An admirable goal.”
“Did you mean it?”
“How do you mean?” the man replied.
“About your wish. About being free. Did you mean it?”
“John,” the man said, prompting John to look up into his steel gray eyes. “I came here to grant you your own wishes, and instead of using any of them you granted one to me, releasing me from any future obligations.”
John blinked, wide-eyes, and processed that information. “I used up my wishes?”
The man nodded.
“You’re a genie?”
“A djinn. Still am, but now I am free.”
John nodded. “You’re welcome.” He turned his head away and blinked solemnly at the stem that once held his perfect dandelion. “How do you know my name?” John asked as the djinn stood and began to move away.
“I guessed.”
The grass crunched as the man strode away, but John didn’t turn to look, feeling the loss of company as the man drew farther and farther from him.
“John!” he heard his mum shout across the park. “Time to go!”
John wriggled forward onto his hand and knees and dropped his head to blow at another dandelion.
“I hope I meet you again,” he whispered into the white cloud of seeds.”
~*~*~
“Changed a lot from my days,” John pronounced, looking around the laboratory at Barts.
“Mike?” a deep voice asked. “May I borrow your phone?”
John looked over and found the voice attached to a man bending over a colorful experiment, curly hair wisping about his head like dandelion fluff.
“Why don’t you use the landline?” Mike asked, sharing an amused glance with John.
“I prefer to text,” the man said with disdain.
Leaning on his cane, John stared at the man, wondering why he seemed familiar to him.
The man turned to look at John and Mike, and the memory finally clicked.
“You are a good boy, John.”
John pulled his phone out and offered it. “Here, use mine. And by the way, Harry is my sister.”
Their eyes locked and the steel gray ones widened.
“Hallo,” John said. “It’s John, and I believe this is my wish coming true.”
The man reached out for the phone and let his fingers brush against John’s.
“You’re a simple man,” he pronounced, turning away and keying his message into John’s phone. “Am I to believe that I was your wish?”
“No, simply meeting you again was.”
The man blinked in surprise and turned to look at John sideways. “Do you like the violin?”
“If it’s played well.”
“Sometimes I don’t talk for days.”
“I like silence, too.”
“I don’t grant wishes anymore,” he warned.
“I only make them on dandelions,” John said with a grin, causing the man to blink again.
“Meet me tomorrow at 7. Sharp,” he ordered, handing the phone back and reaching for his coat. He twirled it on and strode away. “221B Baker street,” he called over his shoulder.
“I don’t even know your name!” John shouted after him.
The man peered back around the door jamb. “It’s Sherlock Holmes, doctor.” He winked, then disappeared.
“John?” Mike asked. “What did he mean by wishes?”
John looked at him solemnly. “That’s what you do with dandelions, isn’t it?”
FIN