from fire_rose17 :P

[transient_words]

Had a beyond shitty day, woke up to this lovely meme :D

"Name a fandom, a character or pairing, and a single word. I will write a drabble featuring or based on that word."

Since I'm not really into anything beyond Sherlock, House and Geass this these days, let's abridge this a bit. You can, MAY, request anything from these fandoms. You can try other

Comments

[transient_words]

Written in like ten minutes. I actually have a backstory for this ;-;

There is a list of things Sherlock never imagined happening in his life. The first incident of that occurring when he finds out that knowing a bit about the solar system (unimportant, redundant gibberish he picked up at school --) is helpful, after all. But those are exceptions, he tells himself and John just shakes his head and calls him an ‘impossibly irritating sod’ with a silly smile on his face (the smile saying that he isn’t all that annoyed after all) .

But the funny thing about life is that it’s not a governable universe, that it is not a vacuum that either yields right or wrong results, but is a topsy-turvy muddle of grey, ‘what ifs’ and annoying illogical bits and pieces that don’t fit into a greater whole. Sherlock usually ignores them, was a champion at it, until one foggy September evening when John doesn’t come back home.

Sherlock stops playing the violin, tucks it away, and throws himself onto the couch, wearing that bathrobe of his that John thinks needs to get washed because it’s starting to get ‘smelly’. But Sherlock doesn’t care. John’s not here, though he should be. He doesn’t have a date tonight, and they’ve run out of milk. He needs the milk for a new batch of experiments he’s been itching to try out.

(Sherlock would never admit to himself that he misses John’s company.)

At some point, Sherlock dozes off, and is only awakened by the sound of someone silently, yet noticeably walking up the staircase. It’s John: he usually walks like a soldier, marching up the stairs in a regular trit-trot-trot motion, not flying up the stairs with a spring in her steps like Mrs Hudson, even though she has a bad hip - but regularly, mechanically as if missing one step even would bring his perfectly balanced universe spiralling out of control --

But he sounds different now, practically dragging himself up the steps, even worse than when it’s raining outside or he still used his cane. Sherlock sits up, the words ‘are you hurt’ on his lips. Not that he’d ever utter them. That’s sentiment, and Sherlock Holmes doesn’t indulge in feeling.

And yet -- when he sees John’s pale, tired face, notices how he nearly jumps when he switches the light on and notices him -- something that isn’t irritation, isn’t glee over a new case showing up, or one of his sulky spells takes over Sherlock. No, it’s just pure concern that makes him walk over to John, place a hand on his arm, and - for a second - wish he weren’t as good at observations and deductions as he is -

Because, at that moment, his entire world - as he knows it - comes undone.

John’s lips are swollen (not from kisses, no there’s blood on his bottom lip, missing tissue, implying fear, implying anxiety --), there are, Sherlock notices as he looks down at his hands, marks (deeply embedded into his skin, from a handcuff, not done willingly because the marks are red, very red which implies struggle --) , and … what’s worse is that John’s face is entirely devoid of emotion, but calm, deadly calm, and his eyes - his eyes --

Are tired. Resigned.

[transient_words]

And the funny, the sad thing is that it’s the look on John’s face that sends the bile rising to his throat. Of course, the marks, the torn underlip, and the way he’d laboriously walked up the stairs were hints enough, but Sherlock knows John. He knows that John wouldn’t look this serious if something bad hadn’t happened.

(John usually smiles, even in the face of death; John is a grown up man who dresses in jumpers and prepares himself for Christmas months before the actual event even with a dangerous dominatrix on the loose; John is kind, John is patient, John is -

John would take it like a real soldier, not utter a word even if it hurt. John would endure everything if done for the right purposes.

John, Sherlock knows, would do anything for him.

Even sacrifice his pride, his honour.

Everything.

Mycroft was right: John does get loyal very quickly, but not easily. He was wrong about that.

John doesn't point the gun at people for just anyone.

He doesn't allow himself to be raped for just anyone.

Sherlock knows he’s lucky to have won John Watson’s trust, friendship and faith. )

“John,” Sherlock says, and pulls him into a hug, not caring if John flinches or tries to push him away. Because he knows John needs it.

Indeed, John does just lean into the touch: cautious, though but not pulling away -

And Sherlock just holds him, his touch careful, loose, but there. He needs John to know that he’s there , that he’ll always try to be.

In the back of his mind, as he hears John’s suppressed, but still there sobs, feels him tremble ever so slightly, and the quiet, and nearly composed ‘you can let go, I’m fine, Sherlock - I’m fine’ Sherlock swears to himself that he’ll hunt that man down, and watch him dance.

(Watch him dance, till he burns.)

[fire_rose17]

Sorry I'm so late to comment on this! I really enjoyed reading this. You displayed John's emotions and Sherlock's reaction very well. And that bit about the solar system. I always thought it was stupid of Sherlock to "delete" what he felt was useless information. Everything becomes relevant eventually.

I think, for the first time, Sherlock really wished he wasn't so observant

I haven't forgotten about your request. Hopefully I'll have that up soon!

[transient_words]

It's basically me for who should *apologise*.

(And I still need to comment on your drabble >__< ).

Thank you so much for the comment -- I'm just so anti-social when it comes to Eljay these days :/ but I haven't forgotten about you, or how much I appreciate this comment <333.