John scares the SHIT out of Sherlock.
anonymous
May 26 2011, 20:25:01 UTC
John's running around after Sherlock, being BAMF, and suddenly, without really thinking about it, he does something exceedingly dangerous. So dangerous that it's only by pure luck that he doesn't end up dead. John's all adrenalined up and doesn't really think anything of it, other than "what a rush!"
And Sherlock suddenly realizes that John nearly died on him and that is not okay. Cue Sherlock realizing that he has to look out for John and keep him from going over his limits much the way John has been looking out for Sherlock and helping to keep him in line as well.
The wind was icy and sharp, biting at Sherlock’s face and whipping his coat around his legs as he dashed against it. Snow was falling so thick and fast it was nearly blinding, but he could barely feel the cold against the thrill of adrenaline and the unmistakable high of having solved the case.
The murderer was still meters ahead, scrambling confidently across the slicked rooftops, bounding between buildings with the confidence of a runner - which he was. That, Sherlock considered, pressing harder against the blistering storm, could be a problem. They had about a minute before they reached a gap that Sherlock normally counted on to stop criminals, but this one might actually try the leap. If he missed, great; Lestrade would be fussed about the mess, but that was hardly Sherlock’s problem. But if he made it - and he did have an Olympic silver in the long jump - they’d lose him
( ... )
Re: Filled: 2/?
anonymous
May 28 2011, 03:25:11 UTC
Sludge made Sherlock slide and stumble as he sprinted with a wired energy he hadn’t felt since that night at the pool, ripping a vest of explosives away from a body so inexplicably precious -
He pulled to a halt at the edge of the roof, the wind practically pushing him over as he leaned, trying to see through the flakes. There was one figure on the roof across the way, a hunched blob that was far too large be John. No. John had to be there too, he couldn’t have - (Couldn’t have made it, who could make that jump?)
Sherlock collapsed to his knees, exhausted breaths coming ragged and burning cold. Blood pounded by his ears, blocking out the rush of wind and his own disbelieving gasps. His hands were trembling; tears froze painfully to his cheeks. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t - Of course it could, the cruelly rational side of his brain cut in. John loved danger, hadn’t he just been thinking that? And Sherlock was constantly dragging him into situations where the danger was deadly. The only logical outcome was one day
( ... )
And Sherlock suddenly realizes that John nearly died on him and that is not okay. Cue Sherlock realizing that he has to look out for John and keep him from going over his limits much the way John has been looking out for Sherlock and helping to keep him in line as well.
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RJma6NaZj5w
I always wondered what that guy's friend is saying to him.
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The murderer was still meters ahead, scrambling confidently across the slicked rooftops, bounding between buildings with the confidence of a runner - which he was. That, Sherlock considered, pressing harder against the blistering storm, could be a problem. They had about a minute before they reached a gap that Sherlock normally counted on to stop criminals, but this one might actually try the leap. If he missed, great; Lestrade would be fussed about the mess, but that was hardly Sherlock’s problem. But if he made it - and he did have an Olympic silver in the long jump - they’d lose him ( ... )
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(Excellent so far).
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He pulled to a halt at the edge of the roof, the wind practically pushing him over as he leaned, trying to see through the flakes. There was one figure on the roof across the way, a hunched blob that was far too large be John. No. John had to be there too, he couldn’t have - (Couldn’t have made it, who could make that jump?)
Sherlock collapsed to his knees, exhausted breaths coming ragged and burning cold. Blood pounded by his ears, blocking out the rush of wind and his own disbelieving gasps. His hands were trembling; tears froze painfully to his cheeks. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t - Of course it could, the cruelly rational side of his brain cut in. John loved danger, hadn’t he just been thinking that? And Sherlock was constantly dragging him into situations where the danger was deadly. The only logical outcome was one day ( ... )
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And this: he couldn’t get his hands to stop trembling and part of him just wanted to punch John for scaring him so damn much.
Uh, just so good!
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