Ficlette, J/S, Rated PG
Title: A Predictable Epiphany
Author: LimpBiskit
Series: Sherlock BBC
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Rating: PG
Warnings: Pre-Slash, awkwardness and Sherlock. Because the world needs a warning for Sherlock.
There will be a companion piece to this, unless the response is along the lines of "GTFO newperson, and die a hundred deaths at the point of a spork."
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Somewhere between the kitchen table and the half-full sink, Sherlock Holmes realized that he must be in love.
The thought was so staggering that it literally gave him pause, his usually determined steps halting awkwardly as he struggled to work his mind through the reason for this glaring oversight.
Oh, the signs were there, no matter how he strove to rationalize this-fact-or-that, but he had believed that he possessed enough detachment to keep the inevitable at bay.
Inevitable.
Yes, he had known all along that there had been some kinship, some bit of attachment and an abiding need for the other man's presence, but none of that mattered, did it? He needed many things, like air or water, the occasional meal.. But none of them were a detriment to his ultimate purpose, and so it would be with this thing, this insatiable desire for a singular human's continued companionship-
How completely ridiculous it seemed, when he allowed himself to run the sequence of events through to their natural end.
And it was so damnably obvious.
If it had been anyone else, he would have known it in an instant, by their secreted and sometimes- not glances, by the lingering scent of the other upon their bodies, the casual and careless invasion of personal space-
The signs were most definitely there.
So there he stood, a bit overwhelmed and feeling a right berk for the depth of his obtusity.
And worst of all, it was just so neat and compartmentalized, a foreseen conclusion to a predetermined situation that contained varying intricacies within its formulae, none of which would alter the outcome in the slightest.
God, how he hated to be predictable.
As he berated himself for such foolishness, a random bit of speculation rose to the surface. He may not be able to change the what or the who, but he was in complete control of the when, where and how.
Reassured by the notion, he began to plot a course of action.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
That's it for the moment, make your opinion known :)
X- Posted as per usual.
Part2
Author: LimpBiskit
Series: Sherlock BBC
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Rating: PG
Warnings: Pre-Slash, awkwardness and Sherlock. Because the world needs a warning for Sherlock.
There will be a companion piece to this, unless the response is along the lines of "GTFO newperson, and die a hundred deaths at the point of a spork."
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
Somewhere between the kitchen table and the half-full sink, Sherlock Holmes realized that he must be in love.
The thought was so staggering that it literally gave him pause, his usually determined steps halting awkwardly as he struggled to work his mind through the reason for this glaring oversight.
Oh, the signs were there, no matter how he strove to rationalize this-fact-or-that, but he had believed that he possessed enough detachment to keep the inevitable at bay.
Inevitable.
Yes, he had known all along that there had been some kinship, some bit of attachment and an abiding need for the other man's presence, but none of that mattered, did it? He needed many things, like air or water, the occasional meal.. But none of them were a detriment to his ultimate purpose, and so it would be with this thing, this insatiable desire for a singular human's continued companionship-
How completely ridiculous it seemed, when he allowed himself to run the sequence of events through to their natural end.
And it was so damnably obvious.
If it had been anyone else, he would have known it in an instant, by their secreted and sometimes- not glances, by the lingering scent of the other upon their bodies, the casual and careless invasion of personal space-
The signs were most definitely there.
So there he stood, a bit overwhelmed and feeling a right berk for the depth of his obtusity.
And worst of all, it was just so neat and compartmentalized, a foreseen conclusion to a predetermined situation that contained varying intricacies within its formulae, none of which would alter the outcome in the slightest.
God, how he hated to be predictable.
As he berated himself for such foolishness, a random bit of speculation rose to the surface. He may not be able to change the what or the who, but he was in complete control of the when, where and how.
Reassured by the notion, he began to plot a course of action.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX
That's it for the moment, make your opinion known :)
X- Posted as per usual.
Part2