Sherlock Fanfic: Mustering Out
(It's been so long I've forgotten how to do headers. *facepalm*)
Title: Mustering Out
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Rating/Warning:GEN PG13, pre-series John angst.
Word Count: 221B
Disclaimer: I do not own this world or these characters.
Summary: It's not the combat that wakes him, it's his expulsion from it.
A/N: Trying to jump-start my writing brain. Not Brit-picked because I don't like to bother anyone for something so short, but that also means this isn't going to be linked at the comm, at least not this week. So this is just a little pre-series angst nugget for people following my LJ. Thanks for hanging around guys, it means a lot that you're still watching. [LJ-only]
Mustering Out
by CaffieneKitty
It's not the combat that wakes him, it's his expulsion from it. Fire in his shoulder racing through the veins. Taking him out and rendering him useless.
Breathe. Breathe. It's not here. It's not now.
Clenching nausea rides somewhere between his lungs; his heart feels like it's being used for football practice. His teeth grind, frustrated, not helping. He was past this, things were okay. That's what he told the therapist with her beads and bangles and pen-on-paper scratchings; a blatant lie.
Breathe. No one's dying. Breathe.
But they are dying, aren't they? Or they might be, far away. War isn't the charnel house it once was, with hundreds dying each day, but it was still war. People got shot, blown up, mutilated and killed, and here he is in a safe little bedsit, crying over nightmares. Memories. Friends he can't help.
Not here, not now. Breathe. Calm.
What good is he here? Is he saving lives? Is he making a difference? No. He's a little grey man in a little grey flat living a little grey nothing life. There's nothing he can do but be calm, not make a fuss, not disturb anyone, just be grey in a grey world.
Exist.
Breathe.
- - -
(that's it.)
PS: This is similar to something rather darker I wrote that's in this meme-post compilation. I find John's pain fascinating, and I wanted to do a different view of the scene, again, and I'm not quite ready to delve into... other things yet.
Title: Mustering Out
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Rating/Warning:GEN PG13, pre-series John angst.
Word Count: 221B
Disclaimer: I do not own this world or these characters.
Summary: It's not the combat that wakes him, it's his expulsion from it.
A/N: Trying to jump-start my writing brain. Not Brit-picked because I don't like to bother anyone for something so short, but that also means this isn't going to be linked at the comm, at least not this week. So this is just a little pre-series angst nugget for people following my LJ. Thanks for hanging around guys, it means a lot that you're still watching. [LJ-only]
Mustering Out
by CaffieneKitty
It's not the combat that wakes him, it's his expulsion from it. Fire in his shoulder racing through the veins. Taking him out and rendering him useless.
Breathe. Breathe. It's not here. It's not now.
Clenching nausea rides somewhere between his lungs; his heart feels like it's being used for football practice. His teeth grind, frustrated, not helping. He was past this, things were okay. That's what he told the therapist with her beads and bangles and pen-on-paper scratchings; a blatant lie.
Breathe. No one's dying. Breathe.
But they are dying, aren't they? Or they might be, far away. War isn't the charnel house it once was, with hundreds dying each day, but it was still war. People got shot, blown up, mutilated and killed, and here he is in a safe little bedsit, crying over nightmares. Memories. Friends he can't help.
Not here, not now. Breathe. Calm.
What good is he here? Is he saving lives? Is he making a difference? No. He's a little grey man in a little grey flat living a little grey nothing life. There's nothing he can do but be calm, not make a fuss, not disturb anyone, just be grey in a grey world.
Exist.
Breathe.
- - -
(that's it.)
PS: This is similar to something rather darker I wrote that's in this meme-post compilation. I find John's pain fascinating, and I wanted to do a different view of the scene, again, and I'm not quite ready to delve into... other things yet.