[Sherlock BBC] --- His Heart burns
Title: His Heart burns
Author: Alaylith
Rating: PG/PG13
Warnings: a bit gory & bloody, but nothing extensive
Universe: BBC Sherlock (S1)
Characters: Sherlock, Jim Moriarty, Mycroft, Lestrade, John
WordCount: 626
Summary: A game of chess, a pile of wooden bones and a bloody queen. Sherlock can feel how his Heart burns.
Copyright: Sadly they do not belong to me and some sentences I used are from S1E3, so not mine as well.
A/N: Don't know where this came from - had the idea a few days ago before I started to re-watch Granada and I just could not shake it off... So here is is. :)
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"The Game is on."
Sherlock sits on a giant chair, a chess board in front of him. He can barely look over the top and looking between the figures he can see Jim Moriarty's face opposide him.
Jim makes a move and then gestures to him. "Your turn, Sherlock."
Sherlock pulls himself up at the corner of the board, standing on tiptoes on the chair and stretches his arm to reach one of his pawns, but only his fingertips are able to brush the stone.
"Really, Sherlock, mind your manners," Mycroft's voice suddenly speaks up and the man looms over Sherlock. He lifts his umbrella and blood drips from the tip he is pointing at him. "Take your dirty feet of the chair."
When Sherlock looks down he can see that his shoes are drenched in blood and there are bloody footprints all over the metal surface of the chair.
"You know," Jim starts and makes his next move without waiting for Sherlock to make his own. "People tend do get so sentimental about their pets."
A low whine reaches them and Jim looks to the side. When Sherlock turns his head he can see a giant pile of wooden bones and Lestrade kneels in front of it. He digs with his hands in the pile, throwing bones away but new bones roll down from the top.
Lestrade's hands are worn down to the bones, strips of flesh and muscles hanging loosely from the fingers.
"They are so touchingly loyal, but, oops-" Jim grins and Sherlock looks down at the board again. Red dots wander all over the board like blood drops and finally come to rest on his queen.
"Checkmate," Jim says and takes the queen into his hand. A blood red jumper embraces the figurine and then turns into fire, engulfing the stone and throwing shadows over the board.
"Now your Heart will burn," Jim declares.
"I have been reliably informed that I don’t have one," Sherlock speaks mechanically and Jim shakes his head. "But we both know that’s not quite true."
Both turn back to the pile and Sherlock looks to the top of it. On top of the bones John limply hangs, caught in chains and with blood splattered all over his body.
"I win," Jim sings sweetly and throws the burning queen onto the pile.
The pile catches fire immediatly and the flames rise up to reach John. Just before he disappears in flames, John opens his eyes and looks at Sherlock with tears trailing down his cheeks.
"Sherlock..."
And then Sherlock can feel the intense burning pain in his chest.
"Sherlock!"
Sherlock gasps and bolts upright, his chest heaving and he realizes that he is on the coach in their flat. John stands at his side, one hand outstretched and a worried frown on his face. "Are you okay?"
Breathing deeply and suppressing the shakes, Sherlock turns to look up at John. For a moment he thinks he can see flames in John's eyes, but he knows that is just his imagination.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he answers finally and John frowns doubtfully.
"Are you going to make tea?" Sherlock changes the subject and then turns around on the coach to lie with his back to John. "Make me a cup, will you."
"Sherlock...," John murmurs gently and Sherlock shudders, remembering his whispered name from the dream. "I am waiting, John. Go ahead, now."
A sigh and then shuffling footsteps fade away, until there are tinkling sounds coming from the kitchen.
Sherlock wills himself to relax, concentrating on the noises John makes and desperately tries to think about any facts from his last few cases.
Unconsciously rubbing his chest, Sherlock could swear that he can feel how his heart burns.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author: Alaylith
Rating: PG/PG13
Warnings: a bit gory & bloody, but nothing extensive
Universe: BBC Sherlock (S1)
Characters: Sherlock, Jim Moriarty, Mycroft, Lestrade, John
WordCount: 626
Summary: A game of chess, a pile of wooden bones and a bloody queen. Sherlock can feel how his Heart burns.
Copyright: Sadly they do not belong to me and some sentences I used are from S1E3, so not mine as well.
A/N: Don't know where this came from - had the idea a few days ago before I started to re-watch Granada and I just could not shake it off... So here is is. :)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The Game is on."
Sherlock sits on a giant chair, a chess board in front of him. He can barely look over the top and looking between the figures he can see Jim Moriarty's face opposide him.
Jim makes a move and then gestures to him. "Your turn, Sherlock."
Sherlock pulls himself up at the corner of the board, standing on tiptoes on the chair and stretches his arm to reach one of his pawns, but only his fingertips are able to brush the stone.
"Really, Sherlock, mind your manners," Mycroft's voice suddenly speaks up and the man looms over Sherlock. He lifts his umbrella and blood drips from the tip he is pointing at him. "Take your dirty feet of the chair."
When Sherlock looks down he can see that his shoes are drenched in blood and there are bloody footprints all over the metal surface of the chair.
"You know," Jim starts and makes his next move without waiting for Sherlock to make his own. "People tend do get so sentimental about their pets."
A low whine reaches them and Jim looks to the side. When Sherlock turns his head he can see a giant pile of wooden bones and Lestrade kneels in front of it. He digs with his hands in the pile, throwing bones away but new bones roll down from the top.
Lestrade's hands are worn down to the bones, strips of flesh and muscles hanging loosely from the fingers.
"They are so touchingly loyal, but, oops-" Jim grins and Sherlock looks down at the board again. Red dots wander all over the board like blood drops and finally come to rest on his queen.
"Checkmate," Jim says and takes the queen into his hand. A blood red jumper embraces the figurine and then turns into fire, engulfing the stone and throwing shadows over the board.
"Now your Heart will burn," Jim declares.
"I have been reliably informed that I don’t have one," Sherlock speaks mechanically and Jim shakes his head. "But we both know that’s not quite true."
Both turn back to the pile and Sherlock looks to the top of it. On top of the bones John limply hangs, caught in chains and with blood splattered all over his body.
"I win," Jim sings sweetly and throws the burning queen onto the pile.
The pile catches fire immediatly and the flames rise up to reach John. Just before he disappears in flames, John opens his eyes and looks at Sherlock with tears trailing down his cheeks.
"Sherlock..."
And then Sherlock can feel the intense burning pain in his chest.
"Sherlock!"
Sherlock gasps and bolts upright, his chest heaving and he realizes that he is on the coach in their flat. John stands at his side, one hand outstretched and a worried frown on his face. "Are you okay?"
Breathing deeply and suppressing the shakes, Sherlock turns to look up at John. For a moment he thinks he can see flames in John's eyes, but he knows that is just his imagination.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he answers finally and John frowns doubtfully.
"Are you going to make tea?" Sherlock changes the subject and then turns around on the coach to lie with his back to John. "Make me a cup, will you."
"Sherlock...," John murmurs gently and Sherlock shudders, remembering his whispered name from the dream. "I am waiting, John. Go ahead, now."
A sigh and then shuffling footsteps fade away, until there are tinkling sounds coming from the kitchen.
Sherlock wills himself to relax, concentrating on the noises John makes and desperately tries to think about any facts from his last few cases.
Unconsciously rubbing his chest, Sherlock could swear that he can feel how his heart burns.
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