FILL - The Sorrows of Young Sherlock - 1/1lotheringtonAugust 22 2011, 16:42:18 UTC
Hope you like this, OP! Finally got this finished after nearly a month of tinkering!
It is an iridescent globe that looks as if it holds an entire world inside it. The colour of unshed tears, the ball contains all of Sherlock's sadness and sorrow; his melancholy, his woe, his heartache.
He doesn't quite understand it.
John understands. John understands and bears the weight of the tiny world of Sherlock's sorrow just as he bears his own, and bears Harry's, from time to time. He understands and he feels, something which Sherlock still can’t quite bring himself to do on a day-to-day basis.
***
Sherlock needs John on cases to remind him of things he forgets to consider, the things he forgets to even remember. ‘People have died, Sherlock,’ John shouts one evening, his face tight and lined, his body tense. There’s a vicious exchange between the two of them; snapped and bitten out, but Sherlock remembers, after -- he remembers that John is feeling what troubles Sherlock himself.
‘People have died,’ Sherlock tells Moriarty, his hands
( ... )
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But it is HIS heart he keeps in his pocket
It's small but there, a weight near his chest
Comforting and in need of comfort
They are tears never cried
Words never said
Feelings never felt
Heavy, oh so heavy
But he's strong enough
for both of them
The weight of the world on HIS shoulders
HIS heart an anchor on his heart
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It is an iridescent globe that looks as if it holds an entire world inside it. The colour of unshed tears, the ball contains all of Sherlock's sadness and sorrow; his melancholy, his woe, his heartache.
He doesn't quite understand it.
John understands. John understands and bears the weight of the tiny world of Sherlock's sorrow just as he bears his own, and bears Harry's, from time to time. He understands and he feels, something which Sherlock still can’t quite bring himself to do on a day-to-day basis.
***
Sherlock needs John on cases to remind him of things he forgets to consider, the things he forgets to even remember. ‘People have died, Sherlock,’ John shouts one evening, his face tight and lined, his body tense. There’s a vicious exchange between the two of them; snapped and bitten out, but Sherlock remembers, after -- he remembers that John is feeling what troubles Sherlock himself.
‘People have died,’ Sherlock tells Moriarty, his hands ( ... )
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