If you’re reading my WIP ‘Given In Evidence’ you’ll probably want to skip this, as it’s the case which featured in Chapter Four - here edited and published as a stand-alone for those who don’t enjoy slash.
The music drifted down the stairs, clear and sweet, to greet John as he fumbled the door open. He froze halfway through the door, grocery bag tangled up on the door handle and cane stuck at an awkward angle trying to prop the door open. Navigating through London with a cane again was somehow proving to be even more difficult this time than it had been previously, although John would absolutely never admit it to any of the too-kind people who tried to help him. No matter how often Mrs. Hudson offered him the downstairs flat, no matter how many times Mike tried to send him a cab so he didn’t need to walk, no matter how many people tried to step out of his way and let the poor injured man through, John would not allow it. He would not allow this stupid bloody injury that was all in his head rule his life, not now. Not when he was finally beginning to move on, not when he could finally get through a day without any other reminders of what had happened and what he had lost. That the cane was a constant, damning, ever-present reminder of the joke his life had become was something he would not admit even to himself.
But now he was grateful for the cane, just slightly, for it was the only thing that was keeping him propped upright in the doorway. The music was still drifting delicately down the stairs, its mournful and reverent tones both achingly and impossibly familiar. The music sounded like home, like the home he had thought lost to him forever when the only person that had ever truly mattered vanished out of his life off the edge of a building. John’s life had been silent since then. Everything seemed muffled, muted, colorless and empty without the man who made his life really worth living. But here was music once more, coming down the stairs from his empty home to greet him.
Hope and despair welled in John, threatening to overwhelm him. This couldn’t be real, it couldn’t. Am I imagining this again? he wondered wearily, remembering all too well the last time he had thought that there was violin music coming from the sitting room and the crushing disappointment that came with the inevitably empty flat. But this time it wasn’t the middle of the night and he hadn’t been shaken awake by the too-familiar nightmare of falling and screaming and the crack of bone against pavement. He was standing in his doorway and listening to a melody he knew so well it reverberated in his very bones, a melody that had accompanied his sleepless nights and waking hours until it became the music of home and safety and loving acceptance.
Finally, finally, his treacherous feet began to work again after keeping him frozen in the door like a statue, and he lurched clumsily forward to stumble up the stairs as fast as he could manage. The steps had never seemed this long before, nor this impossible to climb with their narrow steps that closed in around him to block his cane and his fumbling limbs and keep him from the source of the music. He climbed, and climbed, and climbed, tears stinging in his eyes as the music grew stronger and more passionate even as he told himself that it could not possibly be real. At last he reached the door to the flat that he had definitely left closed when he left for the shopping, standing defiantly open now as an invitation and a welcome. John stopped, and his heart nearly stopped with him.
Sherlock was inside the darkened flat, his back to the door as he played the violin that John had not been able to bring himself to throw away despite the pain it brought him. It was a familiar scene, one that John had walked in on countless times, but oh, how three years could change everything. Sherlock was dead, had died very nearly in John’s arms as he watched the blood and light and life drain out of him onto that damned sidewalk while John could do nothing but fall apart in shocked horror. Sherlock was dead, and yet here he was, that gorgeous, arrogant, brilliant head bowed in concentration over a violin as he played a simple tune made beautiful in its emotion. He played with his whole being, with every part of that impossible, wonderful brain turned towards wringing every ounce of feeling out of each note, and the violin danced beneath his fingers.
The song was a greeting, an apology, a thousand words of explanation all in one. Sherlock played for John like he had never played before, like he probably never would again, all to say a simple “I’m sorry” like words never could. As the final notes of the song rose plaintive and sweet into the evening air, John could feel tears he had not even known were there sliding down his cheeks to splash onto his trembling hands. He could not breathe, not when he was looking at the man he had thought lost forever alive and well standing before him. He could not think, not when his world had been turned upside down by a few notes of the violin and a soft melody in the night. He could only stand, and stare, and weep.
At last, the song ended. Sherlock stayed standing with his back to John, head bowed over the violin and arms raised, and John could see faintly through his tears that those arms were trembling under the strain of his careful pose. Finally he lowered the violin to his side and turned to face John. As the light from the hall brushed over his face, it was instantly obvious in the lines around his eyes and the strain that was etched there that the years had not been kind to him either. But the smile, sad and tender, that bloomed on his face was enough to wipe away those years in an instant, even as he said with a sadness and a joy that John had never before heard, “I’m sorry, John. I’m so sorry.”
Two people from tumblr on omegle created this great fic, it’s well written and centers around the idea of Sherlock being abused and running away from home. It’s terribly sad and beautiful.
If you’ve been following my fic rec master post’s, then you’ll know that a while ago I attempted to rec violence fics and…failed.
The good news is, if you like BDSM/violence fic’s (if any of you have read velvet mace’s work, then you’ll understand what kind of fic’s I’m referring to) then you’re in luck. Sometime in the next two weeks (sorry I can’t be more precise with a date) d0minatrix has agreed to guest-blog/rec with a fic rec master post for those genre’s. Yay!
Also, even later on than that you might see some combined rec’s from the two of us under the Angst tag on this blog…but that’s not coming for a few weeks, either.
Well, I hope that’s enough to look forward to, so here are some fics.
Two Beauty and the Beast crossover/au fics: Freedom Is Being Alone by call_me_ishmael (in which Sherlock is the beast) and Beauty (nonsignificant) by luthier (in which John is the beast, this is a WIP)
I can’t take credit for finding those two, as I was linked to them from someone who found them on the rec blog ficoverload, and as I had already rec’d most of the fic’s in that particular post by the time I had been linked to it, these were the two I decided to go with (also, if we’re being completely honest, that is a much better blog than this one, you should really check it out)
The End of a Dream by heeroluva, Teen and Up Audiences, 1342 Words, very angsty and flashbacks are everywhere, and its very painful to read in some ways, adorable in others.
Smug by DullYellowEye, Explicit, 1902 Words, smutty, fabulous. ” Sherlock whispers naughty things to John while they’re on a case, because that means by the time they get home - since of course they can’t go home until the case is solved - John will fuck him nice and hard, just the way he likes it. Less whispering naughty things and more just PWP.”
This Endless Distraction by keelywolfe, Mature, 2431 Words, Smutty, semi-fluffy, All Sherlock wants to focus on is the work. Is it his fault that John is such a distraction?. The curses are somewhat juvenile, but somehow still John. Harry Potter references. Very satisfying fic.
but sometimes it can get pretty fluffy when you throw in patient/understanding!John, and I seem to start enjoying it because even though Sherlock is asexual in these fics (which I totally prefer him to be sexually active, don’t get me wrong. I like reciprocation much better.) he’s totally interested in cuddling/romance/fluffiness.
There aren’t many that solely focus on John’s acceptance in this list, so sometime during the week I’ll do a rec list of acceptance, be it personality acceptance or kink!acceptance .
anyways, here are some that I’ve read and enjoyed.
Horse and Carriage (a series)
I barely posted any fic recs this week.
But never fear, ace!Sherlock is here.
I’m going to try and do an asexual!Sherlock master post this weekend (I’m very skeptical about asexual!Sherlock, I’ll explain why in the master post) as well as either:
three full length fics (50,000 words, roughly) or a master post of fluff and smut (because who doesn’t like that.)
Hello everyone! So I took a break from reading yesterday, considering all the time I’d been spending on it the past week. However, now I am back, and with two LONG, FANTASTIC rec’s for you.
The second fic I’m recommending tonight is the one fanfiction I actually enjoyed from my abortive attempt at reading violence fics.
Now on to the requests.
It appeared that a lot of you enjoyed the master post rec lists, and I’m so happy with the enthusiastic response they received.
That being, if anyone is looking for specific types of genre’s that I did not cover, or they want more from one I did cover, let me know and I can put together a master post rec list again. Either reblog this with the suggestion or leave it in my request/ask box and let me know.
You’re very welcome! I’m so glad you decided to continue it into a series, the chapter was so well done. Sherlock’s reaction to John as a distraction…adorable, and very in character in my opinion. For everyone else, here is the link to the sequel. I highly recommend reading it!
I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t post anything without it being slash or fluff. Even if the underlying theme is something like hurt/comfort, violence, or any other platonic sounding genre, it’s always going to have an underlying slash-y or fluffy pairing. So even though this week’s posts were about specific genre’s most (if not all) of the fics were about a new relationship/established relationship between characters.
I see ten more of you have joined me here for some slash-y Sherlockian goodness. Good to see you, thanks for following, and I hope you’ve been enjoying it so far.
And A Gif:
Okay so the only reason I added this in here is because the darker hamster is clearly Sherlock and the lighter hamster is clearly John. At least, that’s where my mind went upon seeing this gif. It was too cute not to share.
Well, on to the Saturday AU master-fic-post, and tomorrow I’m going to put up the small amount of violence fics I read the other night.