And being home sick today, looks like I wrote another one:
While Baby Sleeps – John and Sherlock catch a few moments together while the baby is asleep.
teaser under the cut
John very quietly closed the door. “There; she’s finally asleep,” he said quietly, turning. He started as Sherlock was standing directly behind him, robe open to reveal his favorite pair of lace panties and hungry gleam in his eyes. “Sherlock?”
Reaching out, Sherlock took his hand and lead him away from the door, back towards the front room. He shrugged off the robe and let it drop to the floor, slipping to his knees. “You’ve been working too hard since the baby came.”
“Babies tend to take a lot of work,” said John, smiling fondly as he ran a hand through Sherlock’s curls.
Sherlock put his hands on John’s thighs. “She’s asleep now, yes?”
“Soundly.”
Sometimes I think about how Martha Jones was offered all of Time and Space and endless adventure and walked away from it because she’d have to spend it with a person that didn’t respect her.
You talk about role models…
how do you think the show should end?
I’m sorry it took me 6 years to answer you anon. That’s my perfect ending:
They have to die. I want it to happen on a “traditional job”. Not trying to save the world, or because they are Heaven’s weapons to fight Hell. Not because of any destiny crap, not because they’re vessels, not because of something bigger than themselves. It is an ordinary hunt, a vengeful spirit, a wendigo, pick one, a creature just edgy and smart enough to get to them the one second they’re not paying attention. That’s all it takes really, because no matter what their names are, no matter who they are, when the sun goes down they are just bones and skin, blood and a heart beating. They are two men. Who they are, their strength, their courage, the story they leave behind, it’s got nothing to do with muscles, it’s a story about feelings, not about bodies.
And no one is safe from making a mistake, because it is a human thing to do. And that’s what they always have been. Despite the demon blood, despite demons, angels, despite the possessions, sacrifices, rituals and all those supernatural things they’ve seen and been and done. Humans. And that’s why they die, just die, without artifice, without any big and fancy explosion, without saving a world that will never know their names.
And that’s life, as it should be. Maybe their death is the only thing they get to really live.And it’s not like in the movies, there’s no big declaration of love, they just close their eyes and let the darkness envelop everything. Maybe Sam goes first, Dean doesn’t notice at first, because he’s staring at the blood flowing from his stomach and he panics, trying to find the wound to stop the blood, all the blood, too much blood. And when he turns his head to ask for help, “Sam” is a cry that never leaves his lips because Sam is there, stretched on his back, his head turned towards Dean but his eyes already closed and a small smile playing on his lips. And Dean stops fighting. Because that’s it, his job’s over. Take care of Sam. Sam doesn’t need to be taken care of anymore. And what’s even the point of living if Sam is not there to make his life a perfect mess? They have already tried to live without the other, and have already seen and experienced these long days without meaning. No. This time, it’s not worth fighting, this time, everything will be fine.
So Dean closes his eyes and isn’t scared, because he knows that wherever he goes, Sam is already there, waiting for him.
Harold Ramis has died 🙁
Wrote an angsty johnstrade this morning:
A Moment’s Respite – Lost after Sherlock’s suicide, John takes refuge for a night with Greg Lestrade.
teaser below the cut
It had been nearly a year since Sherlock had jumped and things weren’t any easier. John moved through his days, did what he had to do, but it was like part of him was gone forever and the sun had gone out.
So when Greg asked him out for drinks, his first thought was to turn him down, but figuring he had nothing else to lose, he met the DI at a pub. Greg steered the conversation away from painful subjects for the first few pints and for the first time in a long while, John started to really relax.
A few pints after that, John became aware of Greg’s hand on his knee. He smiled at him. “This wasn’t all a ploy to take advantage, was it?”
Greg pulled his hand back. “Certainly not…I’m just worried about you.”
John grabbed his hand and put it on his own thigh. “I’m okay with this. I…haven’t been with anyone, since…”
Squeezing, Greg leaned forward. “We are both drunk.”
“I don’t care. Your place?”
“My cars parked ‘round back. I’m no shape to drive, though.” Greg watched him.
“So like teenagers then, fine by me.” John got up unsteadily and led the way out
