15 Step
Title: 15 Step
Genre: Drabble, angst
Pairings: Sherlock/John, unrequited/ambiguous
Rating: PG
Words: 476
Summary: John becomes engaged. Sherlock lets him out of his life, not acknowledging his own feelings. Detached angst ensues.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money earned.
AN: Written to the song 15 Step by Radiohead, but does not require the song for understanding.
Its been five months since the news, since John came in, beaming with excitement.
“Sarah and I are engaged.”
Sherlock was speechless, violin bow strung in mid-draw.
“Well?” John's eyes searched him, waiting for something. Had John expected his congratulations?
Domestics. Sherlock spat the word out in his mind with distaste and disgust.
“Don't forget to inform Mrs. Hudson when you leave. I can pay the rest of this month's rent.” He retucked his violin under his chin, and took up his bow.
John nodded. “I'll pack now. You can visit me or I can always phone-”
“Don't bother.”
Something like disappointment or resignation had passed across John's face then. Sherlock wasn't sure, he wasn't looking.
Nothing had changed since. He took on more cases than he normally would, than John would have allowed him. He nearly got into a fight with Anderson when he was particularly acerbic about the other man's marriage status. He wanted to slap the sneer off Donovan's face when she made gibes about John's absence. He ran faster and jumped higher rooftops without John to slow him down. There was a bomb threat, and when he discovered the location he decided to try his own bomb dismantling skills. John would have called him idiotic, but he's not the idiot who fell victim to domestics. Turned out he wasn't quite as apt as he thought.
Sherlock woke up to an empty, sterile ward. He checked his own charts, nothing pressing, a concussion. He rattled his head, recited digits of pi. Time to check out.
He studied the reflections of the floor of the hospital as he walked down the mostly deserted corridor. A few patients shuffled by, followed by a nurse and a doctor. The doctor stopped before turning the corner.
Sherlock looked up, and of course it is John down the hall, shrouded in white, stethoscope around his neck, patient charts in his hands, and a ring on his finger. Coffee and pizza for lunch, last patient was a woman with small children.
John was still, face frozen, staring unblinkingly at him.
He walked forwards. 1, 2, 3, 4, 15 steps, his ever observant mind had already calculated.
There was hardly any space now between him and John. John had to look up to stare him in the eye. Still, Sherlock felt as if there was a chasm before him.
“Sherlock.” It was a greeting, a statement and a warning.
He could feel the pounding of his heart, the pulse throbbing in his neck, the hotness of his blood running from shoulders to fingertips. His mind raced, for once with emotions instead of thoughts. Domestics, safety, familiarity. An alarm went off inside his head. Danger, danger, danger. The incoherence filtered into white noise.
He dipped his face abruptly, and closed the distance between them.
Genre: Drabble, angst
Pairings: Sherlock/John, unrequited/ambiguous
Rating: PG
Words: 476
Summary: John becomes engaged. Sherlock lets him out of his life, not acknowledging his own feelings. Detached angst ensues.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money earned.
AN: Written to the song 15 Step by Radiohead, but does not require the song for understanding.
Its been five months since the news, since John came in, beaming with excitement.
“Sarah and I are engaged.”
Sherlock was speechless, violin bow strung in mid-draw.
“Well?” John's eyes searched him, waiting for something. Had John expected his congratulations?
Domestics. Sherlock spat the word out in his mind with distaste and disgust.
“Don't forget to inform Mrs. Hudson when you leave. I can pay the rest of this month's rent.” He retucked his violin under his chin, and took up his bow.
John nodded. “I'll pack now. You can visit me or I can always phone-”
“Don't bother.”
Something like disappointment or resignation had passed across John's face then. Sherlock wasn't sure, he wasn't looking.
Nothing had changed since. He took on more cases than he normally would, than John would have allowed him. He nearly got into a fight with Anderson when he was particularly acerbic about the other man's marriage status. He wanted to slap the sneer off Donovan's face when she made gibes about John's absence. He ran faster and jumped higher rooftops without John to slow him down. There was a bomb threat, and when he discovered the location he decided to try his own bomb dismantling skills. John would have called him idiotic, but he's not the idiot who fell victim to domestics. Turned out he wasn't quite as apt as he thought.
Sherlock woke up to an empty, sterile ward. He checked his own charts, nothing pressing, a concussion. He rattled his head, recited digits of pi. Time to check out.
He studied the reflections of the floor of the hospital as he walked down the mostly deserted corridor. A few patients shuffled by, followed by a nurse and a doctor. The doctor stopped before turning the corner.
Sherlock looked up, and of course it is John down the hall, shrouded in white, stethoscope around his neck, patient charts in his hands, and a ring on his finger. Coffee and pizza for lunch, last patient was a woman with small children.
John was still, face frozen, staring unblinkingly at him.
He walked forwards. 1, 2, 3, 4, 15 steps, his ever observant mind had already calculated.
There was hardly any space now between him and John. John had to look up to stare him in the eye. Still, Sherlock felt as if there was a chasm before him.
“Sherlock.” It was a greeting, a statement and a warning.
He could feel the pounding of his heart, the pulse throbbing in his neck, the hotness of his blood running from shoulders to fingertips. His mind raced, for once with emotions instead of thoughts. Domestics, safety, familiarity. An alarm went off inside his head. Danger, danger, danger. The incoherence filtered into white noise.
He dipped his face abruptly, and closed the distance between them.