SERIES: Sherlock
PAIRING: Sherlock/Victor
My body tenses up and my pulse elevates and I know it is him, I can pick out the hang of his coat and the cowlick at the back of his head from anywhere, from the busiest London sidewalk and certainly from this sparsely crowded market. Part of me mutters a disbelieving litany, it can't be him it couldn't be him, but that thought is soon squashed, because why couldn't it? It has been over two years, after all, there's no reason he couldn't be back, no reason he couldn't be here on this street, even if the odds are unlikely.
John is looking at me, and I shove a brown paper bag into his free hand and t
Invisible Texts
John X Sherlock
"I need some air!" John stormed out of the flat, quickly grabbing the phone on the table before rushing down the stairs.
He had really done it this time. It had been a long day at the clinic, filled with sick and whinging patients and his lack of sleep had run him ragged this week, and had only just returned to the flat to find a dead midget body strewn across the dining table in the kitchen.
"It's for an experiment, he donated his body to science, so it perfectly legal"
"But why is he on our kitchen table?"
"Where better to cultivate the bacteria? I need to keep a close eye on it. And I know my favorite
Breath of Life
Sherlock was wrestled to the ground by his assailant, the cloth around his neck being pulled tighter and tighter.
"John!" he rasped, the sound barely escaping his lips.
He could still hear his friend carrying on outside, mocking him through the letterbox.
"JOHN!" he cried again, scrabbling desperately to free his neck. Oh if only he would just shut up and listen! He felt his vision going blurry and dark, his movements becoming more labored, until he finally let his whole body drop.
---
John was in the middle of a rant when he heard a very disconcerting thump from inside the apartment.
" Sherlock?" he asked
I guess it was not meant to be
Your room has grown so empty. I've spent a great deal of time telling myself this wasn't truly happening but I now feel the gaping holes where your belongings used to be as if they were in my heart. Your wardrobe is growing bare; their contents carefully packed away into countless trunks and so many boxes. I let my fingers brush the mattress of what used to be your bed, stripped of sheets and blankets. It's cold.
It's not as bad as it seems
You're going to be happy now, right? You and Mary and your own house and your own practice and I won't be there to scare away your patients with experiments