Sherlock Fic: Playing
A drabble in response to eanor's prompt, "Sherlock/Irene or Sherlock, Irene: Love is just a chemical. We give it meaning by choice." at the sherlockmas prompting fest.
Playing
It wasn’t her whole life-just a series of unconsciously recorded sensations:
Chocolate frosting on Bill’s birthday cake
The scent of tea tree shampoo
Jackie’s large bloodshot eyes the morning Nan led them away
The clack of stilettos on marble
An accelerating pulse beneath her fingerti-
Ah! She hadn’t been the only victim of a reaction.
She typed the message-an abrupt modern liebestod, or her final sting?
Of course, the question was immaterial unless he’d chosen to embrace his body’s chemical defect… He couldn’t have….
Then her own gasp… and his voice.
Irene smiled.
It seemed he had.
Playing
It wasn’t her whole life-just a series of unconsciously recorded sensations:
Chocolate frosting on Bill’s birthday cake
The scent of tea tree shampoo
Jackie’s large bloodshot eyes the morning Nan led them away
The clack of stilettos on marble
An accelerating pulse beneath her fingerti-
Ah! She hadn’t been the only victim of a reaction.
She typed the message-an abrupt modern liebestod, or her final sting?
Of course, the question was immaterial unless he’d chosen to embrace his body’s chemical defect… He couldn’t have….
Then her own gasp… and his voice.
Irene smiled.
It seemed he had.