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.
no subject
Date: 2011-08-28 08:28 pm (UTC)LOL! You knew me better than I knew myself. I swear there will be longer, "real" fics. But yeah, these are fun, too. *blushes*
I'm so glad you liked this. I was fascinated by the idea of Sherlock uncertain, trying to follow John's direction and get his affirmation, and at last figuring out on his own a practical (Sherlockian?) means of expressing care and concern. Another step on the way to becoming a good man, I'd like to think...
I share with you a liking of stories where the characters work together, their personalities playing off one another, illuminating each in turn.
I adore this description! That's the kind of work I love to read and aspire to write. I particularly like thinking, in this case, that John would be capable of being there for Lestrade even as he worked, but knowing the situation was dire, he was forcing Sherlock to find a way to "step up to the plate," as it were. Wise John.
I hope Lestrade does not cut his hand on that bony ankle, though. ;o)
ROFLOL! A very real danger, I'm afraid.
Thank you so much for reading and commenting. It means a lot to me!