strangely I'm reminded of this scene from a movie called The Irrefutable Truth About Demons where the main character (played by the very yummy Karl Urban), who had his heart magically cut out earlier in the movie, had a magical heart transplant from this girl he only met a few hours (days?) before and has sex with just before he gets her heart.
One day, he will tell someone. It will be the best day of his life. He will spell it all out for them, slowly and in great detail, illustrating with a juicy tone of voice and strained gestures just how wonderful the relief is. The end of the hunger that comes when he devours another. It is better than orgasm, better even than the triumph that fills him like God's first light when he solves a case
( ... )
John Watson was an army doctor who took a flat with Sherlock. He wasn't the brightest of Sherlock's would-be victims, but he was good at noticing Sherlock. It was impossible to groom and tail a new heart with John around. He was always asking questions, "Are you alright?" and "You look paler than usual, want me to fetch the stethoscope
( ... )
I am actually speechless. I don't even know how to express what I feel about this. It's beautiful yet gory yet achy and jglhasjdhglsdf. I can't even. I was expecting a fill from John's POV and instead we get this look at Sherlock's backstory and his feelings and the lack thereof, and this is just. This is, excuse the pun, bloody amazing.
Thank you so much! I'm relieved you weren't disappointed about the POV switch, I figured the prompt was leaning towards John's. Thanks for setting the premise up, I really felt like writing some gore last night and this was perfect XD
John finds this out one day when he wakes up and Sherlock is kneeling over him with a knife in his hand and tears on his face.
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