he saved the last dance for me [1/?]
anonymous
January 13 2011, 07:20:25 UTC
This is how you meet:
Your partner’s body is at your side, and he’s got a gun to your head.
Somewhere, deeply repressed and largely ignored in the back of your mind, you think you’re about to die. You’re exploring a thousand possible outcomes of the multitudes of what-if’s that can summarise your life’s experience; your metaphorical self is chasing down all the paths your actual self never took, looking for that one contenting ending that doesn’t see you on the wrong end of a pistol barrel.
But the rest of you, oh, the rest of you- it’s in a state of marvel, a trap of awe. Nobody ever comes this close to me, you think. Your training has always assured this, up until now. You’ve forgotten what people look like, up close. You’ve neglected fear to the state that it has become a foreign entity to you, and now it’s all rushing back. A tidal wave in the desert
( ... )
he saved the last dance for me [2/?]
anonymous
January 13 2011, 07:21:59 UTC
“And what is it? That you want,” you add, quiet. Curious.
“Everything,” he answers with a harsh exhale, eyes wide. “I’m terribly bored, you see. And I do so hate when the undeserving have things, and isn’t the world itself rather undeserving?”
“It’s what sets us apart as exactly the same.”
“There’s that extraordinary I’d seen in you.” You shuffle your feet. The tension in your shoulders, the primal brace for brute force in your frame, has all melted away. You hadn’t even noticed
( ... )
he saved the last dance for me [4/?]
anonymous
January 13 2011, 14:25:45 UTC
This is how you love:
You watch as Sherlock Holmes and John Watson fall for one another. Not at the same time, because life is never so simple and elegant, but they do - you observe as Sherlock falls so hard he can’t hit the ground running, too stunned at the discovery that he’s indeed capable of it; you examine the slow smoulder of John’s feelings as he compartmentalises over a period of time, scrutinise as he comes to a gradual realisation and acceptance of his own feelings.
You can’t help but draw the comparisons, and you’re not sure what to think, knowing that such a large piece of this - save some improvisational revisions - has been the intended play-out all along. Knowing that it is intentional does not tell you what it all means, but, you’ve learned not to expect all the answers (even if you have not yet learned not to want them
( ... )
he saved the last dance for me [5/?]
anonymous
January 13 2011, 14:28:22 UTC
He does not join you in bed, and you wake up with only Toby for company, furled on the pillows beside your head. You instead see him next at Bart’s that evening, and smile modestly as he nearly trips over himself crossing the room just to get to you.
“Do you like musicals?” you blurt out. “I mean- hi, but. Yeah, there’s this show on the telly with all these American kids who sing in a club and it’s brilliant, so I was wondering. If you’d like to watch it? With me? At my place
( ... )
he saved the last dance for me [6/6]
anonymous
January 13 2011, 16:07:25 UTC
And, this-
-this is how it ends:
The thing is, you never wanted to travel the world. You used to say you did, back when you were still Moran, because I became a military sniper to kill people was only a motivation that remained acceptable as long as it was unspoken
( ... )
I'm speechless here. Thank you for this wonderful fill. The style was fantastic, Jim was incredibly in character and it was the first time I saw on this fandom something that I love on the victorian one- Moran and Watson discussing how they're really the same.
Also... Jim ran to Brazil? Seriously? I'm brazilian! Can't stop laughing at the coincidence.
The ending broke my heart, but was perfect. Thank you.
Your partner’s body is at your side, and he’s got a gun to your head.
Somewhere, deeply repressed and largely ignored in the back of your mind, you think you’re about to die. You’re exploring a thousand possible outcomes of the multitudes of what-if’s that can summarise your life’s experience; your metaphorical self is chasing down all the paths your actual self never took, looking for that one contenting ending that doesn’t see you on the wrong end of a pistol barrel.
But the rest of you, oh, the rest of you- it’s in a state of marvel, a trap of awe. Nobody ever comes this close to me, you think. Your training has always assured this, up until now. You’ve forgotten what people look like, up close. You’ve neglected fear to the state that it has become a foreign entity to you, and now it’s all rushing back. A tidal wave in the desert ( ... )
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“Everything,” he answers with a harsh exhale, eyes wide. “I’m terribly bored, you see. And I do so hate when the undeserving have things, and isn’t the world itself rather undeserving?”
“It’s what sets us apart as exactly the same.”
“There’s that extraordinary I’d seen in you.” You shuffle your feet. The tension in your shoulders, the primal brace for brute force in your frame, has all melted away. You hadn’t even noticed ( ... )
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You watch as Sherlock Holmes and John Watson fall for one another. Not at the same time, because life is never so simple and elegant, but they do - you observe as Sherlock falls so hard he can’t hit the ground running, too stunned at the discovery that he’s indeed capable of it; you examine the slow smoulder of John’s feelings as he compartmentalises over a period of time, scrutinise as he comes to a gradual realisation and acceptance of his own feelings.
You can’t help but draw the comparisons, and you’re not sure what to think, knowing that such a large piece of this - save some improvisational revisions - has been the intended play-out all along. Knowing that it is intentional does not tell you what it all means, but, you’ve learned not to expect all the answers (even if you have not yet learned not to want them ( ... )
Reply
“Do you like musicals?” you blurt out. “I mean- hi, but. Yeah, there’s this show on the telly with all these American kids who sing in a club and it’s brilliant, so I was wondering. If you’d like to watch it? With me? At my place ( ... )
Reply
-this is how it ends:
The thing is, you never wanted to travel the world. You used to say you did, back when you were still Moran, because I became a military sniper to kill people was only a motivation that remained acceptable as long as it was unspoken ( ... )
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I think this might be my new head canon.
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I want to kidnap this fill and just snuggle it while it wails and screams at how the gentleness burns.
Also - much love for the second person POV, I see it done so rarely, it seems to take huge talent to use it as beautifully as this.
*kidnaps fill* *snuggles* *puts it back in place for others to enjoy*
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Wow.
I'm speechless here. Thank you for this wonderful fill. The style was fantastic, Jim was incredibly in character and it was the first time I saw on this fandom something that I love on the victorian one- Moran and Watson discussing how they're really the same.
Also... Jim ran to Brazil? Seriously? I'm brazilian! Can't stop laughing at the coincidence.
The ending broke my heart, but was perfect. Thank you.
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Gorgeous and heartbreaking. I hope Molly does turn out to be Moran in the show, because I want it to be just like this.
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