Quick-written cracky little flash/comment fic: "Rule, Find, Bring, Bind"
For the comment_fic community.
Prompt was Any TV show, any/any. "With this ring -"
It's Sherlock and it's also a fusion with another fandom, let's see who can spot it. (It's not very challenging.)
Everything about this moment was so crystal-clear, so vivid and almost still when compared to the pounding of his heart. He’d thought he sounded like someone else when saying his vows, although he felt almost supernaturally present when hearing his partner’s.
This is how it feels sometimes, on the rare occasions when one of the most important moments of your life is occurring, and you are actually aware of it at the time. Every detail was imprinting itself on John Watson’s memory - every officious little cough of the registrar, every stifled little sniffle of joy (Mrs. Hudson, mostly, and probably Mrs. Holmes and Molly as well, though he couldn’t be sure that Lestrade hadn’t contributed any).
He presented his hand with nary a tremor, and smiled up into his new husband’s quicksilver eyes as the band settled around his left finger. Then, he took his own ring from its box in his pocket, the one he’d been saving. It was a plain, almost sensuously elegant, mysteriously heavy band of gold that had been in his family for generations, further back than anyone could remember. No one knew what its story was anymore, and no one had even thought to try it on for hundreds of years, so far as John knew. With a great sense of gravity, John slid it onto his new husband’s long graceful finger. “With this ring, I thee -”
Sherlock vanished.
Everyone gasped, and someone let out a breathy little scream.
John blinked. Vertigo set in. This wasn’t his real wedding day. He was dreaming, and it was turning into a nightmare - Sherlock was going to be gone again, my god, would he wake up and find even his return to life had been a lie? He felt himself swaying a little before firm hands seized his shoulders.
“John! I’m right here, John!” Sherlock’s voice. Sherlock’s grasp. Sherlock’s scent.
John opened his eyes, and he couldn’t see the man who was holding him.
“It’s the ring, John, see?” Sherlock said, and took it off. He blinked right back into existence, with the thing gleaming in his palm. “What did you see?” Sherlock asked urgently.
“You disappeared,” John said, accusingly, as if he’d done it on purpose. He wouldn’t put it competely past Sherlock to display some trickery, even at a moment like this.
“You looked strange to me,” Sherlock said. “Everything did - the room went grey and misty, as if behind some sort of - rain-curtain. A veil. Wraithlike.”
Everyone watching had a similar pale, stunned quality - except for Mycroft Holmes, who was bearing down on them with an indescribable look, the most shocked and worried John had ever seen him, which was saying a great deal (for he was getting good at seeing through both brothers’ masks by now. At least when they were visible, oh Christ now what strange fresh hell was this?).
“Sherlock,” Mycroft said. “If this is what I think it is, this is a matter of utmost importance. You must let me see that ring.”
“No!” Sherlock snapped, in his grandest state of full-on petulance. “You can’t have it!”
“I’m not trying to take it, I just need to be sure of-”
“It was given to me. It’s my wedding ring,” Sherlock said. “It’s very precious to me.”
“But Sherlock -”
Sherlock whirled around and gave John the expected long, wet, joyous nuptial kiss as all the stunned guests - Lestrade, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes - applauded weakly, for they held to convention now out of sheer desperation.
“I’ll see you at the reception,” Sherlock whispered privately to John. “But you might not see me.”
In a blink, he had the ring back on, and then there was nothing of him but the sound of footsteps, running gleefully away.
And John ran behind him, keeping those footsteps in earshot as long as he could - because that was the vow he’d sworn, for better or for worse. The terror and unreality was offset by a giddy little thrill, for this was certainly something new and unexpected. A shocking prelude to another adventure.
Not bad for 15 minutes stolen at work, anyway.
Prompt was Any TV show, any/any. "With this ring -"
It's Sherlock and it's also a fusion with another fandom, let's see who can spot it. (It's not very challenging.)
Everything about this moment was so crystal-clear, so vivid and almost still when compared to the pounding of his heart. He’d thought he sounded like someone else when saying his vows, although he felt almost supernaturally present when hearing his partner’s.
This is how it feels sometimes, on the rare occasions when one of the most important moments of your life is occurring, and you are actually aware of it at the time. Every detail was imprinting itself on John Watson’s memory - every officious little cough of the registrar, every stifled little sniffle of joy (Mrs. Hudson, mostly, and probably Mrs. Holmes and Molly as well, though he couldn’t be sure that Lestrade hadn’t contributed any).
He presented his hand with nary a tremor, and smiled up into his new husband’s quicksilver eyes as the band settled around his left finger. Then, he took his own ring from its box in his pocket, the one he’d been saving. It was a plain, almost sensuously elegant, mysteriously heavy band of gold that had been in his family for generations, further back than anyone could remember. No one knew what its story was anymore, and no one had even thought to try it on for hundreds of years, so far as John knew. With a great sense of gravity, John slid it onto his new husband’s long graceful finger. “With this ring, I thee -”
Sherlock vanished.
Everyone gasped, and someone let out a breathy little scream.
John blinked. Vertigo set in. This wasn’t his real wedding day. He was dreaming, and it was turning into a nightmare - Sherlock was going to be gone again, my god, would he wake up and find even his return to life had been a lie? He felt himself swaying a little before firm hands seized his shoulders.
“John! I’m right here, John!” Sherlock’s voice. Sherlock’s grasp. Sherlock’s scent.
John opened his eyes, and he couldn’t see the man who was holding him.
“It’s the ring, John, see?” Sherlock said, and took it off. He blinked right back into existence, with the thing gleaming in his palm. “What did you see?” Sherlock asked urgently.
“You disappeared,” John said, accusingly, as if he’d done it on purpose. He wouldn’t put it competely past Sherlock to display some trickery, even at a moment like this.
“You looked strange to me,” Sherlock said. “Everything did - the room went grey and misty, as if behind some sort of - rain-curtain. A veil. Wraithlike.”
Everyone watching had a similar pale, stunned quality - except for Mycroft Holmes, who was bearing down on them with an indescribable look, the most shocked and worried John had ever seen him, which was saying a great deal (for he was getting good at seeing through both brothers’ masks by now. At least when they were visible, oh Christ now what strange fresh hell was this?).
“Sherlock,” Mycroft said. “If this is what I think it is, this is a matter of utmost importance. You must let me see that ring.”
“No!” Sherlock snapped, in his grandest state of full-on petulance. “You can’t have it!”
“I’m not trying to take it, I just need to be sure of-”
“It was given to me. It’s my wedding ring,” Sherlock said. “It’s very precious to me.”
“But Sherlock -”
Sherlock whirled around and gave John the expected long, wet, joyous nuptial kiss as all the stunned guests - Lestrade, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes - applauded weakly, for they held to convention now out of sheer desperation.
“I’ll see you at the reception,” Sherlock whispered privately to John. “But you might not see me.”
In a blink, he had the ring back on, and then there was nothing of him but the sound of footsteps, running gleefully away.
And John ran behind him, keeping those footsteps in earshot as long as he could - because that was the vow he’d sworn, for better or for worse. The terror and unreality was offset by a giddy little thrill, for this was certainly something new and unexpected. A shocking prelude to another adventure.
Not bad for 15 minutes stolen at work, anyway.