Fic: Just To Speak To You Again
Title: Just To Speak To You Again
Author: the_improbable1
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Characters/Pairing: John/Mary (mentioned), John/Sherlock (implied)
Genre: Angst, a bit slashy near the end
Rating: PG? I'm not so good with the ratings.
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for The Reichenbach Fall, character death mentioned
Summary/Prompt: Prompt here on the kinkmeme. Original prompt was for "Five voicemails that John left on Sherlock's phone after the fall. And one that Sherlock left on his." Hope you like, OP! Apologies if the formatting's a bit confusing. ^-^;; Also apologies if I've horribly mangled their characters, as I might have. ^-^;;
Notes: Was listening to the AFTERMATH section of the fanmix ALL THE DAYS OF WANDERING while typing this up. Resulted in tears. (The first song from AFTERMATH for the first two, the second song for the third and fourth, the third song for the fifth, and the fourth song for the +1.)
1) Sherlock-god, Sherlock.
It's hard to believe it. I just-I don't want to believe it.
[a humourless laugh]
Be specific, John-I can just hear you saying that. By it, I mean-well, everything. That you weren't real. That-none of it was real. That you're-that you're-
[his voice cracks]
That you're dead.
[a rush of static; a sigh, then a deep breath]
I just-I believe in you, Sherlock.
[a click; he hangs up]
- - - - -
2) It's been a while, hasn't it?
[a chuckle]
Just a few months, really. I've got a steady job now-I can actually hold one down, since I'm not running around at all hours.
[quietly; barely audible]
I'd rather be running after you.
[a more normal voice; still a bit thick]
Anyway-I've got a job a St. Bart's as a paramedic-guess the front line is still the best place for me to be. Still can't resist danger.
Until later, Sherlock.
- - - - -
3) I met someone, Sherlock. Her name is Mary, and-oh, she's almost just like you. It hurts, to be around her, but it's not-it's not like it was a year ago. It's-a bit like stretching, after a long run. It hurts, but there's this sense that it'll be better in a while.
I think-I'll never forget you, Sherlock. But-I can think of you fondly, now.
- - - - -
4) Mary and I are getting married, Sherlock! Married! It's-amazing and nerve-wracking and, oh, it's just glorious, Sherlock.
[a rush of static; an affectionate huff]
I can see you now, with that sort of sneer you always got whenever that sort of thing got brought up. Not your area, you said. Married to your work, you said.
[his voice is full of excitement as he speaks]
I can't believe it! Married! Me!
I wish-oh, I wish you could be here. I think-that would just be the most-well, that would be perfect.
I miss you so damn much. It's-better, now that it's been two years since-everything. Every little thing that reminds me of you-and there are a lot of them, believe me-they don't ache as much, anymore. But I don't think I'll ever stop missing you, or stop remembering you, no matter how happy I am otherwise, no matter how much time passes.
- - - - -
5) She's gone, Sherlock.
[his voice is shattered-more than shattered-it's the voice of a heart that was broken on pavement nearly three years ago (two years, seven months, five days, two hours, eighteen minutes, and forty seconds, to be exact), mended slowly and hesitantly, and then broken again, right along the same lines as before]
She's-god, it happened so fast. I can't-I just-
[a rush of static-a deep breath-the heart is trying to gather its pieces together, trying to find the glue, trying to mend itself again]
She's gone.
[muffled sobs; a rustle of cloth; a mutter of "Piss off, Mycroft"]
Both of you, now. The ones I-I care deeply for.
["Seriously, Mycroft-piss off"; the fading tap of shoes on lino]
Why not say it right out, as long as I'm babbling.
I-I love Mary, Sh-sherlock. And I love you. And now you're both gone and-and I've got to keep on. Just-just keep going. One step at a time. I can do it.
You'd be giving me that look, right about now. That don't delude yourself, John look.
[he does a passable imitation of the voice]
And you're right. But-let me have my little delusion, all right? Let me believe it'll all be okay.
It'll all be okay.
- - - - -
+1) John. I-I shouldn't be doing this. My disguise would fail completely if anyone were to find out that I'm not dead.
I listen to your voicemails. Over and over. Just to hear your voice.
Ugh, I'm being maudlin. To the point, then.
I suppose-I miss you as well. That's likely what this sort of achy emptiness in my chest is. You're-useful to have along on cases and suchlike.
[a cough; when he continues, his voice is purposefully cool]
Oh-I'm not dead, by the way. I faked my death in order to-well, let me explain. There were snipers on you, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson. They would have fired if I hadn't jumped. So I faked it.
I've been taking Moriarty's network apart. There's just one more loose end to tie up, then I'll come back to London and to you.
I just hope-
[there's a slight catch to his voice]
I just hope that you'll forgive me.
[a click; he hangs up]
Author: the_improbable1
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Characters/Pairing: John/Mary (mentioned), John/Sherlock (implied)
Genre: Angst, a bit slashy near the end
Rating: PG? I'm not so good with the ratings.
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for The Reichenbach Fall, character death mentioned
Summary/Prompt: Prompt here on the kinkmeme. Original prompt was for "Five voicemails that John left on Sherlock's phone after the fall. And one that Sherlock left on his." Hope you like, OP! Apologies if the formatting's a bit confusing. ^-^;; Also apologies if I've horribly mangled their characters, as I might have. ^-^;;
Notes: Was listening to the AFTERMATH section of the fanmix ALL THE DAYS OF WANDERING while typing this up. Resulted in tears. (The first song from AFTERMATH for the first two, the second song for the third and fourth, the third song for the fifth, and the fourth song for the +1.)
1) Sherlock-god, Sherlock.
It's hard to believe it. I just-I don't want to believe it.
[a humourless laugh]
Be specific, John-I can just hear you saying that. By it, I mean-well, everything. That you weren't real. That-none of it was real. That you're-that you're-
[his voice cracks]
That you're dead.
[a rush of static; a sigh, then a deep breath]
I just-I believe in you, Sherlock.
[a click; he hangs up]
- - - - -
2) It's been a while, hasn't it?
[a chuckle]
Just a few months, really. I've got a steady job now-I can actually hold one down, since I'm not running around at all hours.
[quietly; barely audible]
I'd rather be running after you.
[a more normal voice; still a bit thick]
Anyway-I've got a job a St. Bart's as a paramedic-guess the front line is still the best place for me to be. Still can't resist danger.
Until later, Sherlock.
- - - - -
3) I met someone, Sherlock. Her name is Mary, and-oh, she's almost just like you. It hurts, to be around her, but it's not-it's not like it was a year ago. It's-a bit like stretching, after a long run. It hurts, but there's this sense that it'll be better in a while.
I think-I'll never forget you, Sherlock. But-I can think of you fondly, now.
- - - - -
4) Mary and I are getting married, Sherlock! Married! It's-amazing and nerve-wracking and, oh, it's just glorious, Sherlock.
[a rush of static; an affectionate huff]
I can see you now, with that sort of sneer you always got whenever that sort of thing got brought up. Not your area, you said. Married to your work, you said.
[his voice is full of excitement as he speaks]
I can't believe it! Married! Me!
I wish-oh, I wish you could be here. I think-that would just be the most-well, that would be perfect.
I miss you so damn much. It's-better, now that it's been two years since-everything. Every little thing that reminds me of you-and there are a lot of them, believe me-they don't ache as much, anymore. But I don't think I'll ever stop missing you, or stop remembering you, no matter how happy I am otherwise, no matter how much time passes.
- - - - -
5) She's gone, Sherlock.
[his voice is shattered-more than shattered-it's the voice of a heart that was broken on pavement nearly three years ago (two years, seven months, five days, two hours, eighteen minutes, and forty seconds, to be exact), mended slowly and hesitantly, and then broken again, right along the same lines as before]
She's-god, it happened so fast. I can't-I just-
[a rush of static-a deep breath-the heart is trying to gather its pieces together, trying to find the glue, trying to mend itself again]
She's gone.
[muffled sobs; a rustle of cloth; a mutter of "Piss off, Mycroft"]
Both of you, now. The ones I-I care deeply for.
["Seriously, Mycroft-piss off"; the fading tap of shoes on lino]
Why not say it right out, as long as I'm babbling.
I-I love Mary, Sh-sherlock. And I love you. And now you're both gone and-and I've got to keep on. Just-just keep going. One step at a time. I can do it.
You'd be giving me that look, right about now. That don't delude yourself, John look.
[he does a passable imitation of the voice]
And you're right. But-let me have my little delusion, all right? Let me believe it'll all be okay.
It'll all be okay.
- - - - -
+1) John. I-I shouldn't be doing this. My disguise would fail completely if anyone were to find out that I'm not dead.
I listen to your voicemails. Over and over. Just to hear your voice.
Ugh, I'm being maudlin. To the point, then.
I suppose-I miss you as well. That's likely what this sort of achy emptiness in my chest is. You're-useful to have along on cases and suchlike.
[a cough; when he continues, his voice is purposefully cool]
Oh-I'm not dead, by the way. I faked my death in order to-well, let me explain. There were snipers on you, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson. They would have fired if I hadn't jumped. So I faked it.
I've been taking Moriarty's network apart. There's just one more loose end to tie up, then I'll come back to London and to you.
I just hope-
[there's a slight catch to his voice]
I just hope that you'll forgive me.
[a click; he hangs up]