Prompt Post Part XXVIII
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IMPORTANT! Spoilers for aired episodes are now being allowed on this area of the meme, without warning. If you do not want to encounter spoilers, please prompt at our Spoiler-Free Prompt Post.
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IMPORTANT! Spoilers for aired episodes are now being allowed on this area of the meme, without warning. If you do not want to encounter spoilers, please prompt at our Spoiler-Free Prompt Post.
( Read more... )
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1.
"All right, mate?"
The cabbie has every right to wonder. They've arrived, after all. They're parked in front of 221B Baker Street, and John is simply sitting, staring straight ahead, giving no indication he's going anywhere.
He's a fly caught in amber, a fossil in stone. He can't move.
The cabbie turns, an expression of growing concern replacing his impatient scowl.
"Give us just a mo', please?" John mutters. He pulls out his mobile with grim determination, as if he's drawing his sidearm.
Mrs Hudson's greeting is warm and grounding, but it doesn't hold the key that unlocks his traitorous legs. He kneads a hard fist into his thigh and imagines a bruise blossoming beneath sturdy denim.
"Hello, Mrs Hudson."
"Oh, John. It's good of you to ring." After a beat, "I came across some things, dear. Tidying up."
Not packing, bless her. Nothing so final.
"Detective things, you know, mementos from your cases," she continues. "I thought… well, he'd want you to have ( ... )
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It's not the first unexpected surprise she's found in the morgue, but it's far more pleasant than most. Molly instantly knows it's meant for her, just as she knows who must be responsible for it.
The tension and tragedy of these recent days have scoured her raw. A great many feelings flood her at once, and she blinks away the promise of tears.
How he found time for this, how he managed the logistics of the delivery, she cannot imagine.
Not chocolates, she guesses. Nothing so trite. Nothing so easily misconstrued as a clichéd romantic gesture.
She opens the bakery box with reverent hands. She tries to see and to observe, to read the meanings behind this gesture ( ... )
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I'm still loving this!
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His hands are thrust deep into his pockets. His shoulder rests against the wall. He's… well, not hunched, not exactly, but braced, as if unsure of his welcome. His gaze is fixed on the pavement as she opens the door ( ... )
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It's a charming cottage, and John imagines it will require little effort to make it feel like a home.
As he waits for the kettle to boil, he wanders to the sitting room. He's found the perfect spot for his desk, near enough to the fire to be cosy on winter evenings. Perhaps he'll finally do as Greg suggests and edit his old blog posts together into book form.
For now the room is a forest of boxes. If he doesn't unpack them, the chore won't be done. The hives have Sherlock's full attention.
He turns to the nearest box and opens its flaps.
And he is ambushed.
He stares. Time passes.
"John?" Sherlock's tone makes it clear this isn't the first time he's said the name.
With a deep breath, John pulls himself back to the present. "Look what I found." He holds his discovery up for inspection.
"The ear hat, John? Really ( ... )
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