Fic: Hell Will Melt Like Snow 5/?
Title: Hell Will Melt Like Snow- Chapter five
Author: ununpentium
Beta: grassle
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 892 (this chapter) 4000 overall
Pairing: Sherlock/John (one sided)
Read on AO3 // chapter index
Chapter four on LJ
John is clock watching. After seeing his fifth patient of the day who was demanding antibiotics for a cold, he is rapidly losing patience. He watches as the seconds tick by and the hour hand inches closer to 2pm.
With ten minutes to go until the end of his shift, John sticks his head out of his consulting room. There seems to be a lull in patients for the time being, and Sarah beckons him over.
“John, you’re free to go. Your last patient cancelled at the last minute, and Dr Finch just turned up to start the shift after yours.”
John smiles, running his fingers through his hair.
“Brilliant. That shift dragged, I have to say. Too many patients wanting antibiotics. Maybe we need to put out more of those leaflets that explain what antibiotics can and can’t help with?”
Sarah puts down her clipboard, roots around in the receptionist’s desk for a stack of leaflets, and waves them triumphantly in front of John.
“You mean these leaflets? The ones I ordered only two days ago? Already ahead of you, John!”
John laughs and shakes his head, turning to make his way back to his room to gather up his things, when he feels Sarah’s hand on his arm. He moves back to face her, a questioning look on his face.
“I just wanted to say that you’re looking much happier. I’m pleased. I know we’re not as close as we used to be, but I am relieved to see you moving on.”
A flicker of a frown crosses John’s face. He shakes his head minutely to clear it, and smiles at Sarah.
“Thanks. Yeah. I feel good. I’ll, um, be off then.”
John strides into his consulting room, hastily grabs his bag, quickly checks all his patients’ notes have been filed away and leaves without so much as a goodbye to Sarah.
Sarah thinks he is moving on? Forgetting about Sherlock and getting on with his life? John lets out a bitter laugh as he jabs the button on the pedestrian crossing and waits for the lights to change. He could never forget Sherlock; Sherlock has made too much of an impression on John’s life. Sherlock saved John from the colourless world he inhabited after returning from Afghanistan, where he took his gun out every day and sat holding it. Just in case.
John crosses the road and almost turns into the tube station when a travel agents catches his eye. John’s mind flicks back to the image of him and Sherlock relaxing in the sun, sharing wine and kissing. Before he can change his mind, John enters the building and walks straight over to where the holiday brochures are kept along the back wall.
John didn’t think that Sherlock would want to go abroad; he’d be insufferable on the plane. It would be like being cooped up in a confined space with an excitable springer spaniel. John smirks and covers his mouth with his hand. No, it would have to be somewhere in the United Kingdom. Scratch that, it would have to be somewhere within a three-hour travelling distance. That ruled out Scotland and most of Wales and Northern England. John was reaching for a brochure on Idyllic Kent: The Garden of England when one of the travel agents walks over.
“Hello, sir, is there anything I can help you with?”
“I’m just browsing, thanks. Just thinking about going on holiday at this stage, I’d need to check some things with my boyfriend first.”
John freezes. Where the fuck is that coming from?
The travel agent smiles.
“Okay, sir, if you change your mind I’ll just be over at my desk, and I’ll be happy to help you. Feel free to take some brochures with you!”
John mumbles his thanks and continues thumbing through the brochure. Boyfriend? Boyfriend? Maybe it is time to make an appointment with Ella. John hastily places the brochure back and walks out of the shop, not daring to look at the travel agent who approached him moments before.
~*~*~
John has found himself with a new post-work routine. He hangs his coat up on the back of the door, dumps his keys on the kitchen table and makes a cup of tea before settling on the sofa with his laptop and Googling Benedict Cumberbatch to catch up on the recent news about the actor. John used to feel a little creepy doing this, but over time it blended into his daily routine and now John can’t let a day pass without trying to find online evidence of Sherlock’s new life.
John notices some buzz around a new film called Wreckers and follows the link to You Tube. He sits completely still as he watches the trailer. It begins with Benedict’s character lying in bed talking to a female character, and John’s heart clenches. Another scene, and Benedict is kissing the woman. John stops, unable to watch any more.
John closes his laptop with a trembling hand, and he scrubs his hands over his face. He shouldn’t be torturing himself like this. It’s now nearly two years since Sherlock’s death, and John is living vicariously through an actor he believes is Sherlock Holmes. John feels unhinged. If only Sherlock would give him a sign that it was really him, something John could hold on to.
Notes:
Sorry for the stupidly long time between updates. Real life got in the way and left me with no time to write. I'm still determined to finish this series even if updates are a little on the sparse side.
My continued thanks to Grassle.
Author: ununpentium
Beta: grassle
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 892 (this chapter) 4000 overall
Pairing: Sherlock/John (one sided)
Read on AO3 // chapter index
Chapter four on LJ
John is clock watching. After seeing his fifth patient of the day who was demanding antibiotics for a cold, he is rapidly losing patience. He watches as the seconds tick by and the hour hand inches closer to 2pm.
With ten minutes to go until the end of his shift, John sticks his head out of his consulting room. There seems to be a lull in patients for the time being, and Sarah beckons him over.
“John, you’re free to go. Your last patient cancelled at the last minute, and Dr Finch just turned up to start the shift after yours.”
John smiles, running his fingers through his hair.
“Brilliant. That shift dragged, I have to say. Too many patients wanting antibiotics. Maybe we need to put out more of those leaflets that explain what antibiotics can and can’t help with?”
Sarah puts down her clipboard, roots around in the receptionist’s desk for a stack of leaflets, and waves them triumphantly in front of John.
“You mean these leaflets? The ones I ordered only two days ago? Already ahead of you, John!”
John laughs and shakes his head, turning to make his way back to his room to gather up his things, when he feels Sarah’s hand on his arm. He moves back to face her, a questioning look on his face.
“I just wanted to say that you’re looking much happier. I’m pleased. I know we’re not as close as we used to be, but I am relieved to see you moving on.”
A flicker of a frown crosses John’s face. He shakes his head minutely to clear it, and smiles at Sarah.
“Thanks. Yeah. I feel good. I’ll, um, be off then.”
John strides into his consulting room, hastily grabs his bag, quickly checks all his patients’ notes have been filed away and leaves without so much as a goodbye to Sarah.
Sarah thinks he is moving on? Forgetting about Sherlock and getting on with his life? John lets out a bitter laugh as he jabs the button on the pedestrian crossing and waits for the lights to change. He could never forget Sherlock; Sherlock has made too much of an impression on John’s life. Sherlock saved John from the colourless world he inhabited after returning from Afghanistan, where he took his gun out every day and sat holding it. Just in case.
John crosses the road and almost turns into the tube station when a travel agents catches his eye. John’s mind flicks back to the image of him and Sherlock relaxing in the sun, sharing wine and kissing. Before he can change his mind, John enters the building and walks straight over to where the holiday brochures are kept along the back wall.
John didn’t think that Sherlock would want to go abroad; he’d be insufferable on the plane. It would be like being cooped up in a confined space with an excitable springer spaniel. John smirks and covers his mouth with his hand. No, it would have to be somewhere in the United Kingdom. Scratch that, it would have to be somewhere within a three-hour travelling distance. That ruled out Scotland and most of Wales and Northern England. John was reaching for a brochure on Idyllic Kent: The Garden of England when one of the travel agents walks over.
“Hello, sir, is there anything I can help you with?”
“I’m just browsing, thanks. Just thinking about going on holiday at this stage, I’d need to check some things with my boyfriend first.”
John freezes. Where the fuck is that coming from?
The travel agent smiles.
“Okay, sir, if you change your mind I’ll just be over at my desk, and I’ll be happy to help you. Feel free to take some brochures with you!”
John mumbles his thanks and continues thumbing through the brochure. Boyfriend? Boyfriend? Maybe it is time to make an appointment with Ella. John hastily places the brochure back and walks out of the shop, not daring to look at the travel agent who approached him moments before.
~*~*~
John has found himself with a new post-work routine. He hangs his coat up on the back of the door, dumps his keys on the kitchen table and makes a cup of tea before settling on the sofa with his laptop and Googling Benedict Cumberbatch to catch up on the recent news about the actor. John used to feel a little creepy doing this, but over time it blended into his daily routine and now John can’t let a day pass without trying to find online evidence of Sherlock’s new life.
John notices some buzz around a new film called Wreckers and follows the link to You Tube. He sits completely still as he watches the trailer. It begins with Benedict’s character lying in bed talking to a female character, and John’s heart clenches. Another scene, and Benedict is kissing the woman. John stops, unable to watch any more.
John closes his laptop with a trembling hand, and he scrubs his hands over his face. He shouldn’t be torturing himself like this. It’s now nearly two years since Sherlock’s death, and John is living vicariously through an actor he believes is Sherlock Holmes. John feels unhinged. If only Sherlock would give him a sign that it was really him, something John could hold on to.
Notes:
Sorry for the stupidly long time between updates. Real life got in the way and left me with no time to write. I'm still determined to finish this series even if updates are a little on the sparse side.
My continued thanks to Grassle.