Secure Yourself (Sherlock)
Aug. 27th, 2011 04:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
morganstuartTitle: Secure Yourself
Author: Morgan Stuart
Fandom: Sherlock
Disclaimer: This universe does not belong to me; I'm just an appreciative visitor. I make no profit from this fan work.
Description: Comfort isn't Sherlock's area, is it?
Author's Note: Hahaha! Remember when I said I was done with 221b fics? I lied! This is a 221b ficlet: 221 words, with the last word beginning with a "b."
Warnings (Highlight to Read): Non-explicit but disturbing description of injuries
"Just talk to him, Sherlock." Forced calm flattens John's words into a monotone. He doesn't look up from where his hands work steadily in a crimson mess of shredded cloth and flesh.
Folded on his knees, Sherlock leans in, studying Lestrade like an anomalous clue. "What should I say?"
Lestrade chuckles once, then arches against the agony that follows, blinking back involuntary tears. The movement makes John hiss, and Lestrade tries, truly he does, to hold still.
"Doesn'tmatter." Lestrade grinds the words out between gritted teeth. If he unclenches his jaw, he'll scream. "Say... everything'llbe... fine."
His palms scrub along the pavement, seeking some way to brace himself against fire in his side and ice everywhere else.
"I'm not entirely certain it will."
Behind them, Sally summons an ambulance, her voice staccato-precise with throttled fear.
"S'posedtolie... Idiot." Fondly.
John presses harder. Lestrade claws at the concrete.
After a heartbeat, Sherlock captures one of Lestrade's wayward hands between his own, and glances toward John, as if for affirmation.
"No," Lestrade groans. "Breakyourfingers."
Sherlock blinks, frowns, then guides the hand to a bony Holmesian ankle, encouraging clammy fingers to curl around the solid joint.
"As tightly as needed," Sherlock murmurs.
Lestrade nods his thanks. Swallows. Closes wet eyes.
He squeezes hard enough to bruise.
THE END
Vital Stats: The title alludes to the lyrics "Secure yourself to heaven/hold on tight the night has come" from "Secure Yourself" by the Indigo Girls.
Originally written in August 2011.
Originally written to fill this prompt.
Author: Morgan Stuart
Fandom: Sherlock
Disclaimer: This universe does not belong to me; I'm just an appreciative visitor. I make no profit from this fan work.
Description: Comfort isn't Sherlock's area, is it?
Author's Note: Hahaha! Remember when I said I was done with 221b fics? I lied! This is a 221b ficlet: 221 words, with the last word beginning with a "b."
Warnings (Highlight to Read): Non-explicit but disturbing description of injuries
"Just talk to him, Sherlock." Forced calm flattens John's words into a monotone. He doesn't look up from where his hands work steadily in a crimson mess of shredded cloth and flesh.
Folded on his knees, Sherlock leans in, studying Lestrade like an anomalous clue. "What should I say?"
Lestrade chuckles once, then arches against the agony that follows, blinking back involuntary tears. The movement makes John hiss, and Lestrade tries, truly he does, to hold still.
"Doesn'tmatter." Lestrade grinds the words out between gritted teeth. If he unclenches his jaw, he'll scream. "Say... everything'llbe... fine."
His palms scrub along the pavement, seeking some way to brace himself against fire in his side and ice everywhere else.
"I'm not entirely certain it will."
Behind them, Sally summons an ambulance, her voice staccato-precise with throttled fear.
"S'posedtolie... Idiot." Fondly.
John presses harder. Lestrade claws at the concrete.
After a heartbeat, Sherlock captures one of Lestrade's wayward hands between his own, and glances toward John, as if for affirmation.
"No," Lestrade groans. "Breakyourfingers."
Sherlock blinks, frowns, then guides the hand to a bony Holmesian ankle, encouraging clammy fingers to curl around the solid joint.
"As tightly as needed," Sherlock murmurs.
Lestrade nods his thanks. Swallows. Closes wet eyes.
He squeezes hard enough to bruise.
THE END
Vital Stats: The title alludes to the lyrics "Secure yourself to heaven/hold on tight the night has come" from "Secure Yourself" by the Indigo Girls.
Originally written in August 2011.
Originally written to fill this prompt.
Re: Secure Yourself
Date: 2011-08-28 12:45 am (UTC):) Sherlock really *is* rubbish at telling comforting lies just for the sake of giving comfort. (He could of course do it if he were fishing for information on a case.)
studying Lestrade like an anomalous clue
Nice simile.
I join the chorus - the exchange about fingers vs ankle is very good.
Re: Secure Yourself
Date: 2011-08-29 01:04 am (UTC)Oh, thank you! This means a lot to me. I'm so glad the characterization seems right.
although you're not usually good *to* Lestrade, so to speak... :)
*winces and laughs* As the old saying goes, 'We always hurt the ones we love.' *blushes*
I'm glad Sherlock's painful honesty seems right, as well. As you say, he can lie very well when it suits his purpose in the midst of a case... but in this moment, I don't think it would occur to him.
I'm especially happy the fingers-vs-ankle interlude worked. My hope for this little ficlet was to provide a snapshot of how Sherlock's lumbering awkwardly, with baby steps, toward becoming a good man (as well as a great one). His offering of his ankle, while unorthodox, seemed to me to be a particularly Sherlockian solution to the problem of how to show his concern and offer practical assistance.
Your feedback is always so helpful as well as heartening. Thank you very much for taking the time not only to read, but also to comment as you do. I'm most grateful!