[Fic] One by One (Sherlock BBC) for sabrinaphynn
Title: One by one
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Rating: PG
Category: Gen. Sherlock/Watson pre-slash if you're inclined to squint.
Spoilers: Huge for Sherlock Season One.
For: sabrinaphynn
Sherlock likes lists, because they make sense. They pull his dizzying thoughts into order, one by one. He makes a mental one every day, one list at a time, one item at a time. He does not write it down, because that would be useless. Sherlock's brain will remember it. Sherlock's brain remembers everything, that is what he likes about it, except for today. Sherlock would like to forget today, but he knows he will not. He will not forget the day someone bested him. He will not forget the day he almost-
There is no point ending that sentence. It only makes him feel odd, maybe the word is sad, and Sherlock has no time for it. He starts a new list instead of thinking about it.
This new list is one Sherlock adds something to at equal intervals, because even though he thinks this one might be useful in print, his fingers are limited and cannot move as fast as his mind can, and he does not want to blame his fingers today. There are better, larger things to blame, like his stupid brain. If it only worked harder, worked better, he would not have walked them both into that trap. He would not have metaphorically tied them both with a ribbon and delivered them into Moriarty’s waiting hands.
The first thing on this list is ambulances.
Ambulances are not boring. Every single time Sherlock had encountered an ambulance before today, it has been ridiculous. Ambulances slowed things down. He didn’t understand why they didn’t have paramedics on motor bikes. Surely the cost of human life was worth more than the petty legal claims of some low esteemed proletariats. Alas, Mycroft had refused to forward the NHS chief his list of reformations, even though the 26 page bulleted document would increase the NHS’s proficiency and success rate at least threefold. The NHS chief himself had refused to answer Sherlock’s personal calls. The man was an idiot. If he listened to Sherlock, Sherlock wouldn’t have had to call him every fourteen minutes with a new idea. It was not Sherlock’s fault the man’s ego was so fragile as to fallaciously insinuate that Sherlock was bullying him, but apparently that was the new buzz word in administration, and Mycroft was more concerned with his budget and community standing, whatever that even meant (seriously, Mycroft spent time inventing the oddest of terms.)
Today, though, ambulances are not boring. Especially when they come on time, and are large enough to hold himself and John quite comfortably, and have all the right equipment to get John’s stopped heart and deflating lungs working again.
Item two is Mycroft. Mycroft is not boring. This is a hard one to add to the list, but Sherlock is clever enough to rise past the stupid bubble of chemicals that slide down the centre of his body, raising his body temperature, widening his eyes. Bodies are boring; they won’t go on Sherlock’s growing list of things Previously Boring But Not So Much Now. His unfortunate emotions and their physical reactions do not mean anything next to how quickly Mycroft’s OCD tendencies mean the ambulance is there and waiting, ready to take care of John. Ready to fix him from what Sherlock had to do to save them.
Paramedics are still boring. Sherlock doesn’t have to pretend to be in shock today, so he waves off the blanket. Being as wet as he is from holding them both under the water for just over five minutes will not kill him. It only increases his chance of a cold by 34% and even if he does get one, hardly anyone dies from the common cold. They should put all their attention on John, who is clearly the more serious case.
Item three: breathing. Sherlock has lived his life by a set of carefully constructed rules, and one of his stauncher items was thus: do not live life accumulating those ridiculous things commonly known as regrets. Every information source in the world was clear on that - regrets only wasted time and spent emotion unnecessarily.
But Sherlock regrets ever saying breathing was boring.
He crouches against the wall of the ambulance, watching John’s chest steadily rise and fall with the aid of the BILAP. Medicine, chemicals, drugs - Sherlock has never thought them boring, and the BILAP is definitely no exception. It’s a marvel. Sherlock never thought he would see John breathe again. The odds were distinctly in favour of John’s demise, under Sherlock’s pale fingers, and now- here-
Sherlock looks down, and has to cough as discretely as he can. Emotions are still definitely boring, and he is wasting precious time swallowing the lump his ridiculous body has created in his throat. Time that is better spent observing John and making sure the BILAP continues to do its job long enough for John to start breathing on its own - paramedics are still definitely, definitely boring, and might get it wrong, and Sherlock can’t afford that.
Because John’s not boring either. And Sherlock has the sneaking suspicion that John is what stops him from being boring too. But he doesn’t voice that out loud. It stays in his head, like a thousand other rapid thoughts, and Sherlock keeps it buried, in that place in his head he hides terrible things, deep down inside himself, alongside the person he would have been had John died. But John is breathing, and breathing isn’t boring any more - it’s wonderful. It’s amazing. It’s everything. And later, when John starts breathing on his own, starts calling Sherlock every name under the sun, Sherlock will just smile and count his breaths, one by one.
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Rating: PG
Category: Gen. Sherlock/Watson pre-slash if you're inclined to squint.
Spoilers: Huge for Sherlock Season One.
For: sabrinaphynn
Sherlock likes lists, because they make sense. They pull his dizzying thoughts into order, one by one. He makes a mental one every day, one list at a time, one item at a time. He does not write it down, because that would be useless. Sherlock's brain will remember it. Sherlock's brain remembers everything, that is what he likes about it, except for today. Sherlock would like to forget today, but he knows he will not. He will not forget the day someone bested him. He will not forget the day he almost-
There is no point ending that sentence. It only makes him feel odd, maybe the word is sad, and Sherlock has no time for it. He starts a new list instead of thinking about it.
This new list is one Sherlock adds something to at equal intervals, because even though he thinks this one might be useful in print, his fingers are limited and cannot move as fast as his mind can, and he does not want to blame his fingers today. There are better, larger things to blame, like his stupid brain. If it only worked harder, worked better, he would not have walked them both into that trap. He would not have metaphorically tied them both with a ribbon and delivered them into Moriarty’s waiting hands.
The first thing on this list is ambulances.
Ambulances are not boring. Every single time Sherlock had encountered an ambulance before today, it has been ridiculous. Ambulances slowed things down. He didn’t understand why they didn’t have paramedics on motor bikes. Surely the cost of human life was worth more than the petty legal claims of some low esteemed proletariats. Alas, Mycroft had refused to forward the NHS chief his list of reformations, even though the 26 page bulleted document would increase the NHS’s proficiency and success rate at least threefold. The NHS chief himself had refused to answer Sherlock’s personal calls. The man was an idiot. If he listened to Sherlock, Sherlock wouldn’t have had to call him every fourteen minutes with a new idea. It was not Sherlock’s fault the man’s ego was so fragile as to fallaciously insinuate that Sherlock was bullying him, but apparently that was the new buzz word in administration, and Mycroft was more concerned with his budget and community standing, whatever that even meant (seriously, Mycroft spent time inventing the oddest of terms.)
Today, though, ambulances are not boring. Especially when they come on time, and are large enough to hold himself and John quite comfortably, and have all the right equipment to get John’s stopped heart and deflating lungs working again.
Item two is Mycroft. Mycroft is not boring. This is a hard one to add to the list, but Sherlock is clever enough to rise past the stupid bubble of chemicals that slide down the centre of his body, raising his body temperature, widening his eyes. Bodies are boring; they won’t go on Sherlock’s growing list of things Previously Boring But Not So Much Now. His unfortunate emotions and their physical reactions do not mean anything next to how quickly Mycroft’s OCD tendencies mean the ambulance is there and waiting, ready to take care of John. Ready to fix him from what Sherlock had to do to save them.
Paramedics are still boring. Sherlock doesn’t have to pretend to be in shock today, so he waves off the blanket. Being as wet as he is from holding them both under the water for just over five minutes will not kill him. It only increases his chance of a cold by 34% and even if he does get one, hardly anyone dies from the common cold. They should put all their attention on John, who is clearly the more serious case.
Item three: breathing. Sherlock has lived his life by a set of carefully constructed rules, and one of his stauncher items was thus: do not live life accumulating those ridiculous things commonly known as regrets. Every information source in the world was clear on that - regrets only wasted time and spent emotion unnecessarily.
But Sherlock regrets ever saying breathing was boring.
He crouches against the wall of the ambulance, watching John’s chest steadily rise and fall with the aid of the BILAP. Medicine, chemicals, drugs - Sherlock has never thought them boring, and the BILAP is definitely no exception. It’s a marvel. Sherlock never thought he would see John breathe again. The odds were distinctly in favour of John’s demise, under Sherlock’s pale fingers, and now- here-
Sherlock looks down, and has to cough as discretely as he can. Emotions are still definitely boring, and he is wasting precious time swallowing the lump his ridiculous body has created in his throat. Time that is better spent observing John and making sure the BILAP continues to do its job long enough for John to start breathing on its own - paramedics are still definitely, definitely boring, and might get it wrong, and Sherlock can’t afford that.
Because John’s not boring either. And Sherlock has the sneaking suspicion that John is what stops him from being boring too. But he doesn’t voice that out loud. It stays in his head, like a thousand other rapid thoughts, and Sherlock keeps it buried, in that place in his head he hides terrible things, deep down inside himself, alongside the person he would have been had John died. But John is breathing, and breathing isn’t boring any more - it’s wonderful. It’s amazing. It’s everything. And later, when John starts breathing on his own, starts calling Sherlock every name under the sun, Sherlock will just smile and count his breaths, one by one.