Fill: Crash Tactics 1/6
anonymous
June 30 2012, 00:25:16 UTC
»TWO STEPS FORWARD»
John has always been the quiet after the explosion, the ringing in your ears that's left behind long after everything else is gone. Sherlock is the explosion (a violent expansion in which energy is transmitted outward as a shock wave, early 17th century roots from Latin 'explosio(n-)', meaning 'scornful rejection,' and isn't that just fitting?) and this is him, exploding.
If Sherlock is an explosion, then the John that is left behind is the implosion (collapse or cause to collapse violently inward or, in the case of phonetics, to utter or pronounce (a consonant) with a sharp intake of air) that comes later, much later. It isn't until after the ringing has died out and the sirens have gone - along with the hands all over him, tugging him this way and that until he eventually finds his way home - that he allows himself to implode.
(Goodbye, John.)
The world cracks and fractures and tiny bits of it shift, ever so slightly, then fall back into place. The picture that's left behind is John Watson, splintered.
Crash Tactics 2/6toastersexualJune 30 2012, 00:59:37 UTC
«ONE STEP BACK«Like everything else that seems to happen in their lives these days, it starts with the high after a case, with a split second decision made and confirmed with barely a glance between them. John's hands slide over Sherlock's, push him forward and tug him back, and Sherlock responds just as eagerly
( ... )
artificial nocturne (1/?)ganymeadOctober 25 2012, 21:48:02 UTC
Sherlock Holmes sholmes@thescienceofdeduction.co.uk to me
[If you have received this email, it means two things. One: I am dead. Two: You are not.]
That’s as far into the email as John manages to read before violently slamming the lid of his laptop shut and shoving it away from him. It slides an alarming distance and teeters dangerously at the edge of the table before he makes a grab for it to stop it falling.
It still takes all of his self-restraint not to throw the laptop into the wall.
Instead he drops it on the couch where it lands with a completely unsatisfying muffled thump, and makes himself a cup of tea. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit that he was trying to steel himself up to reading-- whatever that thing was
( ... )
Fill: Two Things (3/?)ganymeadOctober 29 2012, 14:16:14 UTC
There must be some kind of cruel irony in the fact that the day after I started this, my great-aunt thought it was a mighty good time to kick the bucket, which is partly why getting this up has taken as long as it has. It makes it a little better (or well, as "better" as it's going to get, anyway) that her name is Molly.
Putting that aside entirely, thank you all so much for your kind comments!! Gosh I could sweep you all up in a hug you're all so lovely and I honestly didn't expect so many comments and gOSH OKAY I'll stop before I gush too much but I will say that it made me inordinately happy. Think crazy little faces kind of happy. (Is it strange to get so excited about six comments? I don't really know...)He spends the next week obstinately telling himself that he isn't checking his email out of any deluded hope for another email from Sherlock. He's only checking it in passing, because one can't run a blog and be a fully developed adult and be able to avoid their email, after all
( ... )
Fill: Two Things (4/?)ganymeadOctober 29 2012, 14:18:34 UTC
(I don't even want to have a grave, but doubtless Mycroft or Mummy or possibly even you will have messed the whole thing up and gotten me one anyway).
Stop talking to men who are dead and gone and don't give a toss about you either way. Immerse yourself in others, surround yourself with people who care about you (for you are not lacking in that department), but don't lose yourself in them.
Live your life for the both of us, John.
(That would be an infinitely better birthday present than the appalling mockery of a birthday cake you've given me so far).
SH Something sets into John's chest after reading that email. That something makes him slam the laptop shut, grab his coat, rush straight back out the door and hail a taxi to the cemetery
( ... )
Comments 16
John has always been the quiet after the explosion, the ringing in your ears that's left behind long after everything else is gone. Sherlock is the explosion (a violent expansion in which energy is transmitted outward as a shock wave, early 17th century roots from Latin 'explosio(n-)', meaning 'scornful rejection,' and isn't that just fitting?) and this is him, exploding.
If Sherlock is an explosion, then the John that is left behind is the implosion (collapse or cause to collapse violently inward or, in the case of phonetics, to utter or pronounce (a consonant) with a sharp intake of air) that comes later, much later. It isn't until after the ringing has died out and the sirens have gone - along with the hands all over him, tugging him this way and that until he eventually finds his way home - that he allows himself to implode.
(Goodbye, John.)
The world cracks and fractures and tiny bits of it shift, ever so slightly, then fall back into place. The picture that's left behind is John Watson, splintered.
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to me
[If you have received this email, it means two things. One: I am dead. Two: You are not.]
That’s as far into the email as John manages to read before violently slamming the lid of his laptop shut and shoving it away from him. It slides an alarming distance and teeters dangerously at the edge of the table before he makes a grab for it to stop it falling.
It still takes all of his self-restraint not to throw the laptop into the wall.
Instead he drops it on the couch where it lands with a completely unsatisfying muffled thump, and makes himself a cup of tea. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit that he was trying to steel himself up to reading-- whatever that thing was ( ... )
Reply
What are the symptoms of insanity?
Right then, it’s official: I’ve gone mad.
Trust a dead man to make you question your sanity by sending you emails from beyond the grave.
27 comments
What happened??? I am going to dig that man’s grave up and punch him in the face!
Harry Watson 28th July 15:13
That won’t be necessary, Harry.
John Watson 28th July 15:16
sorry :(
Harry Watson 28th July 15:18
of course it would be him hes brilliant i knew he wasnt dead!!
theimprobableone 28th July 15:28
You’re back? Thought I shook you off...
John Watson 28th July 15:33
That’s barmy, mate!
Bill Murray 28th July 15:53
My door is always open, John.
E Thompson 28th July 17:32
I’ll bring you up some of Mrs. Turner’s apple pie, hm?
Marie Turner 28th July 18:02
It is Mrs Hudson by the way
Marie Turner 28th July 18:03
That would be lovely, thank you.
John Watson 28th July 18:14
Time for a pint, eh, mate?
Mike Stamford 28th July 18:20
Brilliant idea! I’ll call up the guys.
Bill Murray 28th July 18:25
Sounds great.
John Watson ( ... )
Reply
Putting that aside entirely, thank you all so much for your kind comments!! Gosh I could sweep you all up in a hug you're all so lovely and I honestly didn't expect so many comments and gOSH OKAY I'll stop before I gush too much but I will say that it made me inordinately happy. Think crazy little faces kind of happy. (Is it strange to get so excited about six comments? I don't really know...)He spends the next week obstinately telling himself that he isn't checking his email out of any deluded hope for another email from Sherlock. He's only checking it in passing, because one can't run a blog and be a fully developed adult and be able to avoid their email, after all ( ... )
Reply
Stop talking to men who are dead and gone and don't give a toss about you either way. Immerse yourself in others, surround yourself with people who care about you (for you are not lacking in that department), but don't lose yourself in them.
Live your life for the both of us, John.
(That would be an infinitely better birthday present than the appalling mockery of a birthday cake you've given me so far).
SH
Something sets into John's chest after reading that email. That something makes him slam the laptop shut, grab his coat, rush straight back out the door and hail a taxi to the cemetery ( ... )
Reply
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