{"id":259280,"date":"2013-09-04T17:24:13","date_gmt":"2013-09-04T17:24:13","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/2013\/09\/04\/nataliesfantasticadventures-one-lastmiracle\/"},"modified":"2018-10-09T00:54:42","modified_gmt":"2018-10-09T00:54:42","slug":"nataliesfantasticadventures-one-lastmiracle","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/2013\/09\/04\/nataliesfantasticadventures-one-lastmiracle\/","title":{"rendered":""},"content":{"rendered":"<div id='gallery-1' class='gallery galleryid-259280 gallery-columns-3 gallery-size-thumbnail'><figure class='gallery-item'>\n\t\t\t<div class='gallery-icon landscape'>\n\t\t\t\t<a href='https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/2013\/09\/04\/nataliesfantasticadventures-one-lastmiracle\/attachment\/259281\/'><img width=\"150\" height=\"150\" src=\"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/tumblr_lg6ml1yY0r1qfryr6o1_640-150x150.jpg\" class=\"attachment-thumbnail size-thumbnail\" alt=\"\" loading=\"lazy\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/tumblr_lg6ml1yY0r1qfryr6o1_640-150x150.jpg 150w, https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/tumblr_lg6ml1yY0r1qfryr6o1_640-100x100.jpg 100w\" sizes=\"100vw\" \/><\/a>\n\t\t\t<\/div><\/figure>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/nataliesfantasticadventures.tumblr.com\/post\/60226585210\/one-lastmiracle-a-cumberbatch-of-cookies\" class=\"tumblr_blog\" target=\"_blank\">nataliesfantasticadventures<\/a>:<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p><a class=\"tumblr_blog\" href=\"http:\/\/one-lastmiracle.tumblr.com\/post\/40380255158\/a-cumberbatch-of-cookies-spookynerdwp\" target=\"_blank\">one-lastmiracle<\/a>:<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p><a class=\"tumblr_blog\" href=\"http:\/\/a-cumberbatch-of-cookies.tumblr.com\/post\/33115416651\/spookynerdwp-keep-it-ugly-punk\" target=\"_blank\">a-cumberbatch-of-cookies<\/a>:<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p><a class=\"tumblr_blog\" href=\"http:\/\/spookynerdwp.tumblr.com\/post\/32986544370\/keep-it-ugly-punk-hitrecordjose\" target=\"_blank\">spookynerdwp<\/a>:<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p><a class=\"tumblr_blog\" href=\"http:\/\/keep-it-ugly-punk.tumblr.com\/post\/32834999131\/hitrecordjose-owl-outside-chris-house\" target=\"_blank\">keep-it-ugly-punk<\/a>:<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p><a class=\"tumblr_blog\" href=\"http:\/\/hitrecordjose.tumblr.com\/post\/32825724333\/owl-outside-chris-house-vickified\" target=\"_blank\">hitrecordjose<\/a>:<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p><a class=\"tumblr_blog\" href=\"http:\/\/owl-outside-chris-house.tumblr.com\/post\/32756336275\/vickified-hijackieee-if-a-clock-could\" target=\"_blank\">owl-outside-chris-house<\/a>:<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p><a class=\"tumblr_blog\" href=\"http:\/\/vickified.tumblr.com\/post\/32749023299\/hijackieee-if-a-clock-could-count-down-to\" target=\"_blank\">vickified<\/a>:<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<p><a class=\"tumblr_blog\" href=\"http:\/\/hijackieee.tumblr.com\/post\/32713689041\/if-a-clock-could-count-down-to-the-moment-you\" target=\"_blank\">hijackieee<\/a>:<\/p>\n<blockquote>\n<blockquote>\n<blockquote>\n<p><em>\u201cIf a clock could count down to the moment you meet your soul mate, would you want to know?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p>omg yes<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p>lol yes, so then i can shave.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p><img alt=\"image\" src=\"https:\/\/66.media.tumblr.com\/tumblr_mbaazdDYyw1qimao1.png\" \/><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p>Because I\u2019m a morbid asshole this is what I began thinking of:<\/p>\n<p>You look at it nearly every day. It\u2019s still up there, years away in fact, and that\u2019s fine. But sometimes you watch it. You watch the number tick away and you wonder and you dream and you try not to expect too much because you know no matter what it\u2019ll be perfect. One a year when it becomes the exact future anniversary you watch it and count down to 0 and get giddy. Only ten more years. Only seven more years. Only four more years.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>Then one day you wake up. You stretch. You smile. You check. Just because. And something is wrong. All the numbers say 0. Something horrible has happened.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>They\u2019re dead.\u00a0<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p>but why<\/p>\n<p>why would you post something like that<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p>Oh, god, I\u2019m going to end up writing a &#8211;<\/p>\n<p>fuck. Sorry.<\/p>\n<p>\u2014<\/p>\n<p>From the day Sherlock could count, the clock on his wrist had confused him.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBut what does it <em>do<\/em>?\u201d he asked his mother disdainfully. \u201cWhat is it\u2019s\u00a0<em>purpose?<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n<p>His mother just smiled down at him and rubbed over the spot on her own wrist. Sherlock could see that it was down to all zeros. Time had run out, but he didn\u2019t know what it was timing. She crouched down next to him and took his wrist in her hand, glancing down at it for a moment.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOne day,\u201d she said, \u201cyou\u2019re going to meet someone. The most important person you\u2019ve ever met. Then, the clock will say zero.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s counting down to the day I <em>meet<\/em> someone?\u201d Sherlock questioned. His tone was near disgusted. \u201cThat\u2019s ridiculous. What\u2019s the point of that? And don\u2019t say I\u2019m too young to understand. That doesn\u2019t work.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>She shook her head and repeated, \u201cthe most important person you\u2019ve ever met, Sherlock.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI don\u2019t like people,\u201d Sherlock said adamantly. \u201cThey\u2019re annoying.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>She stood back up and ruffled his hair fondly, ignoring his huffs of protest. \u201cYou\u2019ll understand, when it happens,\u201d she assured, walking away. Sherlock frowned at the floor and stomped off to the sitting room to read, angry that his mother wouldn\u2019t give him a straightforward explanation.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>Later on, as he managed his way through boredom and bullies and endless hours of school, he started hearing more about it. Excited quips from girls, squealing and showing each other their wrists. He would sneak around and listen, struggling through their annoying giggles long enough to finally hear; the timer counting down to the day you\u2019d meet the most important person you\u2019d ever meet. Your\u00a0<em>soul mate<\/em>.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>The words made him cringe in digust. The fact that he even had a working timer was horrid; it meant he\u2019d end up meeting someone he would be deigned to remain with for the rest of his life. How could someone stand a single person for such a long amount of time?<\/p>\n<p>The time on his wrist, by age ten, still read over 40 years.<\/p>\n<p>\u2014<\/p>\n<p>John spent more time than he liked to admit thinking about what his soul mate would be like.<\/p>\n<p><em>What colour is their hair? What are their interests? Do they like sports, or do they prefer to read? What do they do? What\u2019ll they think of me?<\/em><\/p>\n<p>The final question, he knew, was ridiculous; they\u2019d love him, just as he\u2019d love them. That was how it worked. The question was always nagging at his mind, though.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>He was something of a romantic, you could say. He liked the idea of lying around with someone, cuddling with them on cold days and teasing, flirting like no one else mattered.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>He hadn\u2019t even\u00a0<em>met<\/em>\u00a0his soul mate and he was enamoured of them.<\/p>\n<p>The time on his wrist read 30 years on his first day of medical school, and he wondered why he was one of the few who had to wait so long. He continually told himself it would be worth it, eventually.<\/p>\n<p>\u2014<\/p>\n<p>It was the first proper case Lestrade had actually, legitimately, asked Sherlock to come to, and he was being harassed about his timer.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cFor god\u2019s sake!\u201d he shouted, practically ripping his sleeve as he tugged it back down. \u201cYes, I do have one, yes, it is functioning!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Anderson was sneering at him from a distance and Sherlock had half a mind to chin him right then.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cJesus, calm down, Sherlock!\u201d Lestrade exclaimed, holding his hands up defensively. \u201cIt\u2019s just &#8211; you know, a surprise. For you.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNot like I ruddy well control whether or not I have one,\u201d the detective hissed, absentmindedly rubbing his wrist.<\/p>\n<p>The rest of the people in the room glanced around awkwardly, hands unconsciously touching the marks on their own arms. Lestrade kept eyeing Sherlock in a way he believed to be\u00a0inconspicuous until Sherlock finally snapped and remarked, \u201cis it proof enough?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cProof of what?\u201d Lestrade questioned, confused.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cProof enough for you and your team that I\u2019m a human being, even if I\u2019d rather not be.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Lestrade expression fell and he looked away, internally upset with himself. \u201cHow much time is left?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s it your business?\u201d Sherlock muttered.<\/p>\n<p>The time had jumped from ten years to twenty yesterday afternoon, and he berated himself for feeling anything by it.<\/p>\n<p>\u2014<\/p>\n<p><em>Burning.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>It was the only word present in John\u2019s mind. Bloody accurate in so many senses. Burning desert sun, burning bullet embedded in his shoulder, burning ground against his back, burning throat as he let out strangled cries and raggedly inhaled dust.<\/p>\n<p>Pain nearly covered it, but burning was more specific.<\/p>\n<p>On top of the searing in his shoulder (searing worked pretty well, too), there was a hard throbbing in his right wrist, and he could see behind his eyes that the number of days until he met his soul mate were spinning rapidly, counting\u00a0down.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p><em>Hell, maybe they\u2019re dead, too,<\/em> he thought. The burning sun became blotched out with black spots and John was lost to the world, writhing in the dirt unconsciously.<\/p>\n<p>\u2014<\/p>\n<p>Sherlock\u2019s eyes snapped open and he cried out in surprise, gripping his arm and working his jaw through an unexpected throb of pain. That\u2026 Definitely didn\u2019t feel right.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>He did a once-over of his arm and found nothing wrong until his eyes passed over his wrist. The numbers all read zero in dark red font and Sherlock\u2019s expression faltered.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>Just the day before they\u2019d read four years, nine months. Something had gone wrong.<\/p>\n<p>\u2014<\/p>\n<p>John\u2019s eyes flew back open and he wheezed, trying to work against the pain in his lungs as he scraped along for air.<\/p>\n<p><em>Broken ribs<\/em>, his mind supplied.\u00a0<em>You\u2019ve just had a heart attack, too<\/em>. <em>Don\u2019t forget the bullet wound, of course. Sorry, you were thinking about your soul mate? Good bloody luck.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>If he\u2019d had enough oxygen, John would\u2019ve shouted for it to shut up. He could feel hands working on him,\u00a0inexperienced\u00a0and trembling, moving too fast, too shoddy.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cStay with me, mate,\u201d the soldier begged. \u201cGod help us.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u2014<\/p>\n<p>Sherlock watched as the numbers started re-appearing.<\/p>\n<p><em>1 day, 2 days. 3. 4. 5. 6.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>They jumped back down to zero and his stomach flipped. They started over.<\/p>\n<p><em>\u2026 10, 12, 15, 22. <\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>0. <\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>7, 17, 20.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>The detective growled in frustration and rubbed his thumb hard over the mark.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMake up your mind!\u201d he shouted at it, watching as it climbed to 30 and dropped again. Every time it hit zero, he\u2019d feel a stab of pain in his chest, a heavy weight on his heart.<\/p>\n<p>The number rose once more and stopped at sixty-eight days.<\/p>\n<p>If he felt a swell of warmth and relief, he dismissed it.<\/p>\n<p>\u2014<\/p>\n<p>\u201cJohn Watson!\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>Since returning home, John had stopped checking his wrist. There\u2019d been too much distraction; teary visits from his mum and tense ones from Harry. Trying to find somewhere to stay while he was healing and until he could find a job of some kind.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI heard you were abroad somewhere, getting shot at! What happened?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201c\u2026 I got shot.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>There was something nagging at the back of his head, but he couldn\u2019t place it. He felt different &#8211; almost better.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cCome on &#8211; who\u2019d want me for a flatmate?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>It wasn\u2019t until he stepped in the door of that lab.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMike, can I borrow your phone? There\u2019s no signal on mine.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>John snapped his gaze up and his right hand clenched around the head of his cane. That voice; that gorgeous baritone sent a chill down his spine and made his chest feel like it was inflating.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAh &#8211; here. Use mine,\u201d he offered breathlessly. Sherlock met his gaze and something flickered over his expression. His eyes darted down to his wrist and he lifted his sleeve just a centimetre &#8211; enough to make his breath hitch.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMike, give us a moment,\u201d he ordered. Mike eyed them, back and forth, before complying and standing to walk out.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBe back in ten minutes, mate, I ought to go check on something anyhow,\u201d he said to John before he walked out. Sherlock stood as soon as the door shut and strode over to John, looming over him so close that John had to take a step backwards.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cDoes it read zero?\u201d Sherlock hissed. \u201cPlain, grey zero?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>John wet his lips and sputtered a moment. Sherlock rolled his eyes and snatched the cane from John\u2019s hand, taking his arm in the other and shoving up his sleeve.<\/p>\n<p><em>0000d 00h 00m 00s<\/em><\/p>\n<p>\u201cAfghanistan or Iraq?\u201d Sherlock demanded.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat?\u201d John asked, bewildered.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAnswer the question; Afghanistan or Iraq?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAfghanistan,\u201d John managed. \u201cHow did you &#8211; \u201c<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou were shot. You died, went into cardiac arrest, four times,\u201d Sherlock said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cHow do you know this?\u201d John asked.<\/p>\n<p>Sherlock released John\u2019s arm roughly and undid the cuff on his right arm, holding it out for John to see. The doctor ran a finger over it gingerly, then encircled Sherlock\u2019s wrist with his hand. \u201cDid you know,\u201d Sherlock murmured, \u201cif your\u00a0<em>soul mate<\/em> &#8211; \u201d he said the word like it was filthy, but his gaze was still soft \u201d &#8211; dies, you can feel it? It shows up red on your wrist and it physically pains you.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>John swallowed and smiled tightly. \u201cTo be quite fair, I think the bullet hurt worse,\u201d he quipped.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat\u2019s your name?\u201d Sherlock asked.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cJohn Watson.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSherlock Holmes.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>The two stared at each other in a haze, eyes scanning over each other\u2019s faces like they were committing them to memory.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019re looking for a flatmate?\u201d John inquired eventually, softly.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNot anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Sherlock grinned and John grinned back, sliding his hand from Sherlock\u2019s wrist to link their fingers together.\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>\u201cBrilliant.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p><img alt=\"image\" src=\"https:\/\/66.media.tumblr.com\/tumblr_mbjn1hbCmy1qzk91s.gif\" \/><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p>I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR THIS<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n<p>Hey, this is actually a movie called Timer and it\u2019s on Netflix instant.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>nataliesfantasticadventures: one-lastmiracle: a-cumberbatch-of-cookies: spookynerdwp: keep-it-ugly-punk: hitrecordjose: owl-outside-chris-house: vickified: hijackieee: \u201cIf a clock could count down to the moment you meet your soul mate, would you want to know?\u201d omg yes lol yes, so then i can shave. Because I\u2019m a morbid asshole this is what I began thinking of: You look at it nearly every &hellip; <\/p>\n<p class=\"link-more\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/2013\/09\/04\/nataliesfantasticadventures-one-lastmiracle\/\" class=\"more-link\">Continue reading<span class=\"screen-reader-text\"> &#8220;&#8221;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"gallery","meta":[],"categories":[1],"tags":[25306],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/259280"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=259280"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/259280\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":259282,"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/259280\/revisions\/259282"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=259280"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=259280"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.merindab.com\/private\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=259280"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}