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The Lockless Door (1a/?)
anonymous
June 12 2014, 10:29:13 UTC
Note: Title is from a poem by Robert Frost. I was debating on calling it "Hell is an Open Door" (you know, like the Frozen song) - but then I decided that would be too weird.
* * *
The door is open. He could - he should (no, no. he shouldn’t shouldn’t, couldn’t, won’t) walk through it. It would defeat the purpose. The moment he steps beyond that door…others take his place.
Names. He needs names. The names are vital. Once he loses the names, he loses everything.
There’s John. Always John. Everlasting John.
He smiles at the name. How he imagines it sounds. Nothing else comes forth.
He knows there’s more. Others he’s forgetting. The strange inkling behind his brow tells him this should bother him. Shapes and letters swirl in his mind, but there’s nothing he can latch unto beyond the inexplicable, curved, rounded feeling of John.
For now, it’s enough.
* * *
Hallow sounds of footsteps echo off the walls. Each one leaves an imprint of his brain, springing up words with no meaning.
The Lockless Door (3b/4)
anonymous
October 24 2015, 21:00:37 UTC
I sincerely apologize for the delay....okay more than delay (1.5 years?!?!). Life threw me a curveball and I'm finally back on track (ish). At least enough to finish t his story. AND IT IS FINISHED!
* * *
He enters the crime scene feeling invigorated. Even the police sergeant’s (C?...S?...unimportant) half-hearted quip isn’t enough to get him down. He passes the forensics team as they’re setting up lights and marking the floor. If he was just five minutes earlier he could have avoided the contamination. How unbearably frustrating.
The moment he sees the corpse everything else drifts away. One simple cut to the left common carotid artery from behind. (Killer’s right handed.) It’s so clichéd he almost wants to strangle the killer himself
( ... )
The Lockless Door (4a/4)
anonymous
October 24 2015, 21:04:31 UTC
He’s boiling a goat head when he hears John fumble with the lock on the door. It takes him three times longer than usual to open it…likely trying to balance the groceries. He goes to the living room to move the intestines off the table. The last thing he needs today is to listen to unrelenting scolding.
He hears an awkward gait below and wonders who John invited over. The thought is erased when he hears John argue between clenched teeth. “I…can’t…damn leg”.
John doesn’t have a limp. Hasn’t in years. And even when he had a limp he never walked as awkwardly as he is now, hands and feet tapping out an uneven pattern on the steps.
No man walks like that.
-U-N-G-U… Gun. With one hand, he reaches into the end table drawer as he dials his phone with the other
( ... )
Re: The Lockless Door (4b/4)
anonymous
October 24 2015, 21:05:04 UTC
He glances around, but he can’t make any sense of his surroundings. The overwhelming scents and sounds leave him breathless. He can still feel the coarse brick dust on his fingertips as he tries to shake out the smell of blood and gunpowder. He blinks out images of his cell and a bloody and dead John with little success.
There are far too many pieces to this puzzle and he needs to remove the ones that don’t exist.
Strong hands are gently shaking his shoulders. He looks up to see John kneeling in front of him. John. John is the key. John only exists in reality. He’s too genuine and whole to exist anywhere else. He glances to the side to see Sebastian laying face down, bullet hole in the back of his head
( ... )
* * *
The door is open. He could - he should (no, no. he shouldn’t shouldn’t, couldn’t, won’t) walk through it. It would defeat the purpose. The moment he steps beyond that door…others take his place.
Names. He needs names. The names are vital. Once he loses the names, he loses everything.
There’s John. Always John. Everlasting John.
He smiles at the name. How he imagines it sounds. Nothing else comes forth.
He knows there’s more. Others he’s forgetting. The strange inkling behind his brow tells him this should bother him. Shapes and letters swirl in his mind, but there’s nothing he can latch unto beyond the inexplicable, curved, rounded feeling of John.
For now, it’s enough.
* * *
Hallow sounds of footsteps echo off the walls. Each one leaves an imprint of his brain, springing up words with no meaning.
Leather.
John Lobb.
Size nine.
( ... )
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Of course I'm still interested in this <3
Also I love Sherlock constantly pretending he's fine, when he isn't really.
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* * *
He enters the crime scene feeling invigorated. Even the police sergeant’s (C?...S?...unimportant) half-hearted quip isn’t enough to get him down. He passes the forensics team as they’re setting up lights and marking the floor. If he was just five minutes earlier he could have avoided the contamination. How unbearably frustrating.
The moment he sees the corpse everything else drifts away. One simple cut to the left common carotid artery from behind. (Killer’s right handed.) It’s so clichéd he almost wants to strangle the killer himself ( ... )
Reply
He hears an awkward gait below and wonders who John invited over. The thought is erased when he hears John argue between clenched teeth. “I…can’t…damn leg”.
John doesn’t have a limp. Hasn’t in years. And even when he had a limp he never walked as awkwardly as he is now, hands and feet tapping out an uneven pattern on the steps.
No man walks like that.
-U-N-G-U… Gun. With one hand, he reaches into the end table drawer as he dials his phone with the other ( ... )
Reply
There are far too many pieces to this puzzle and he needs to remove the ones that don’t exist.
Strong hands are gently shaking his shoulders. He looks up to see John kneeling in front of him. John. John is the key. John only exists in reality. He’s too genuine and whole to exist anywhere else. He glances to the side to see Sebastian laying face down, bullet hole in the back of his head ( ... )
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I enjoyed it very much, and I'm glad to see it finished :)
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Below are links to the full work:
Ao3
FF.net
I just made a AO3 account and will be trying to post my other works there shortly :)
Thanks for the support! Wouldn't have ever happened without you!
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