WANT! No, no, NEED. Oh man, Sherlock would make the perfect Orpheus; the lyre violin that charms everything around him, and having that big ~temptation~ right at the end.
Might even attempt if bribed with internets and biscuits.
OP is also from the North American east coast, and also recommends that you go to sleep sharpish, as she should be doing right now. (But that you also make her a stack of cookies and possibly a fic fill, because that's how she rolls.)
Descend 1a/?
anonymous
December 21 2011, 06:32:20 UTC
Okay the biscuits worked. And I hope you don't mind having another fic to fill the prompt. Also, in refreshing my knowledge of the legend, I learned that one version of Eurydice's name ("Eurudike") translates to "she whose justice extends widely" and that "orphic" is defined as mystic, fascinating, and entrancing. How fitting!
They took him from me.
It was the only thought Sherlock had as he stared out the window. They took John.The ricin had taken three days to kill him, but neither of them knew he had been poisoned until 18 hours before the end. The death itself was five days ago. Sherlock had barely moved since then. People thought he was grieving, that he needed time on his own to come to terms with the loss. But they were wrong. Sherlock wasn’t grieving
( ... )
Descend 1b/?The carriage was empty save for a sickeningly ordinary looking man reading a newspaper. “I think you are on the wrong train, my son,” he said without looking up
( ... )
Descend 2a/?
anonymous
December 22 2011, 04:49:17 UTC
Hooray for subject lines!They travelled in darkness the whole way, not once passing another platform or emerging aboveground. The lights in the train seemed dimmed, and the man said nothing. Sherlock returned the favour. He was thinking about what was coming next. He’d survived on his wits and cunning before, quite well, but he never had to rely on his art, his soul, as it were. He may have to re-evaluate his plan
( ... )
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Might even attempt if bribed with internets and biscuits.
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Mycroft says you can have the 'world'. Would that suffice?
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They took him from me.
It was the only thought Sherlock had as he stared out the window. They took John.The ricin had taken three days to kill him, but neither of them knew he had been poisoned until 18 hours before the end. The death itself was five days ago. Sherlock had barely moved since then. People thought he was grieving, that he needed time on his own to come to terms with the loss. But they were wrong. Sherlock wasn’t grieving ( ... )
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Nicely done!
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(The comment has been removed)
And I love Charon as well.
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