Long prompt - but I think you'd like it!
anonymous
September 17 2010, 17:36:08 UTC
A witch that Sherlock pissed off puts a curse on him, so that he empathizes heavily with the person standing closest.
Not only does the curse make him know what the person feels, which would be a boon to a detective, but he feels it as well, which is very distracting.
Cue Sherlock feeling a warm fuzzy feeling whenever John is looking at him, and wondering what the hell that is.
Bonus points: Sherlock starts choking up when talking to a family member of some victim, and Scotland Yard having a collective question mark dangling over their head.
Blood from a Stone (1/?)mariana_oconnorSeptember 23 2010, 16:58:06 UTC
Not the anon from above. Hope that they still write this as well.
I started writing this and then it grew. I'm a little nervous about posting it because it's weird and nothing like I usually write things, really, and also has strange NC-17 content that isn't really that NC-17.
And it's Sherlock/John...
-*-
Sherlock, generally, does not believe in magic.
This is not so much an objection to the concept as the fact he has never found a provable example. It is entirely possible, he acknowledges, that there are things beyond science and mortal understanding. That doesn’t mean he believes there are though, it just means that if he ever does find a provable example he won’t exclude it based on prejudices
( ... )
Blood from a Stone (3/?)mariana_oconnorSeptember 23 2010, 16:59:47 UTC
When he wakes up again John is still watching him from the corner of the room, eyes serious. He is as far away as he can physically get. Sherlock can’t quite reconcile that position with the obvious concern of a Doctor with (what must be) a patient
( ... )
Blood from a Stone (4/?)mariana_oconnorSeptember 23 2010, 17:01:05 UTC
He is up all night, though he changes his clothes. A rush of embarrassment and shame came after the arousal making him strip them off and throw them into a corner
( ... )
Blood from a Stone (5/?)mariana_oconnorSeptember 23 2010, 17:02:30 UTC
“The witch... the other day. It worked,” Sherlock says, but the confusion is still there and his thoughts don’t seem to be in the right order. But that’s not his confusion, he tells his brain. It’s not his worry, not his fear, not his longing. “I can feel what you’re feeling, John
( ... )
Blood from a Stone (6/?)mariana_oconnorSeptember 23 2010, 17:03:16 UTC
That night the nightmares must come for John, because Sherlock drifts off on the sofa for a nap and wakes in a cold sweat and he is terrified. His breath comes in desperate heaves and he crawls in on himself, rolling onto his side and into a ball, shaking, shaking, he can feel tears tracking down his face, over his nose, ticklish trails of water, but he cannot stop them. He wants to scream, wants to sob, but there is control there as well, restraint
( ... )
Blood from a Stone (7/?)mariana_oconnorSeptember 23 2010, 17:25:18 UTC
Once he focuses, he finds that he can get his brain to drown out the feelings, especially now that they are further away. Lestrade, like John, seems to have more control of himself than the others, milling about downstairs.
He finishes quickly, turns the body over, pokes and prods and swipes at it and piecing together the puzzle in his mind. The connections are racing and he doesn’t stop to think before he heads out of the door again and right into the wall of emotion.
He grits his teeth and barrels through until he brushes past a woman and he is falling, falling, to his knees and the pain as he hits the ground is nothing compared to what is trying to claw its way out of his chest and up his throat. He thinks he might be screaming, he can’t tell, he feels so alone and so lost and so scared and there’s so much pain. He’s angry, so angry that he wants to tear the world apart, and part of that anger is inwards. He hates, like he has never hated before and there is the same ache that he has felt from John, only stronger, more desperate
( ... )
Blood from a Stone (8/?)mariana_oconnorSeptember 23 2010, 17:26:44 UTC
Mycroft is a sea of calm, more so even than John. It is alarming though, to feel that strange warmth-bitterness of affection pulsing through him, so deeply rooted that Sherlock can’t quite tell whether it has ever had a beginning or an end. There is also a cold, controlled, ball of anger, like a lead weight, but it is so carefully held and concealed that Sherlock can barely sense it
( ... )
Blood from a Stone (9/?)mariana_oconnorSeptember 23 2010, 17:27:38 UTC
At quarter past nine, he feels the first stirrings of it. Not from John, this time, but from next door.
His throat grows dry, his face gets a little hotter.
Ah... he has been here before. He closes his eyes and feels the curling, churning in his abdomen again.
John is on the other side of the room and Sherlock wonders whether he should leave. There is a distinct possibility that this could get awkward. Then the slight burn rises and he has to take a breath, more of a gasp.
This is more than last time, he can feel it.
John looks up, concerned again.
“Are you alright?” he asks. Those words are becoming his mantra.
“Fine,” Sherlock replies, but he doesn’t sound fine even to himself. John’s concern rises, and the lust from the other side of the wall rises too.
Sherlock wants, he needs. The heat is covering him now and he feels shaky and unsteady. His body is not under his control and he hates that, yet, compared with the emptiness of earlier this is bliss
( ... )
Re: Blood from a Stone (10/10)khollySeptember 23 2010, 20:11:16 UTC
Wow, that was really strong. From the prompt I was expecting something a little silly at best, but this wasn't at all. It completely sucked me in.
And this line made me shiver a bit. I was more than half expecting Sherlock to start getting manipulative with John just to get a hit. He’s not sure whether he enjoys the sensation, but it reminds him a little of the drugs, and he thinks it could become addictive - to make John feel like that and then drink it in as much as he can.
Not only does the curse make him know what the person feels, which would be a boon to a detective, but he feels it as well, which is very distracting.
Cue Sherlock feeling a warm fuzzy feeling whenever John is looking at him, and wondering what the hell that is.
Bonus points: Sherlock starts choking up when talking to a family member of some victim, and Scotland Yard having a collective question mark dangling over their head.
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I started writing this and then it grew. I'm a little nervous about posting it because it's weird and nothing like I usually write things, really, and also has strange NC-17 content that isn't really that NC-17.
And it's Sherlock/John...
-*-
Sherlock, generally, does not believe in magic.
This is not so much an objection to the concept as the fact he has never found a provable example. It is entirely possible, he acknowledges, that there are things beyond science and mortal understanding. That doesn’t mean he believes there are though, it just means that if he ever does find a provable example he won’t exclude it based on prejudices ( ... )
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He finishes quickly, turns the body over, pokes and prods and swipes at it and piecing together the puzzle in his mind. The connections are racing and he doesn’t stop to think before he heads out of the door again and right into the wall of emotion.
He grits his teeth and barrels through until he brushes past a woman and he is falling, falling, to his knees and the pain as he hits the ground is nothing compared to what is trying to claw its way out of his chest and up his throat. He thinks he might be screaming, he can’t tell, he feels so alone and so lost and so scared and there’s so much pain. He’s angry, so angry that he wants to tear the world apart, and part of that anger is inwards. He hates, like he has never hated before and there is the same ache that he has felt from John, only stronger, more desperate ( ... )
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His throat grows dry, his face gets a little hotter.
Ah... he has been here before. He closes his eyes and feels the curling, churning in his abdomen again.
John is on the other side of the room and Sherlock wonders whether he should leave. There is a distinct possibility that this could get awkward. Then the slight burn rises and he has to take a breath, more of a gasp.
This is more than last time, he can feel it.
John looks up, concerned again.
“Are you alright?” he asks. Those words are becoming his mantra.
“Fine,” Sherlock replies, but he doesn’t sound fine even to himself. John’s concern rises, and the lust from the other side of the wall rises too.
Sherlock wants, he needs. The heat is covering him now and he feels shaky and unsteady. His body is not under his control and he hates that, yet, compared with the emptiness of earlier this is bliss ( ... )
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John is gone and Sherlock is alone, and clothed (he must have slept through it all) in his own bed.
He feels cold.
John doesn’t come back that night.
*
When John eventually works his way home, Sherlock stumbles at the guilt that radiates off him. He stares and John avoids his eyes.
“What?” he asks, but John walks past him.
“I did some shopping,” he says, dropping off the bags. “Should keep you going as long as you remember to eat.”
Then he is gone again.
Sherlock analyses his reactions, but he cannot see any explanation for them. There is no reason to his guilt. There is no purpose to his shame.
The craving gnaws at his stomach and crawls under his skin. He needs to get out, out, out.
He needs moreIt is three days until he sees John again, and Mycroft is standing behind him, watching them both shrewdly ( ... )
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And this line made me shiver a bit. I was more than half expecting Sherlock to start getting manipulative with John just to get a hit.
He’s not sure whether he enjoys the sensation, but it reminds him a little of the drugs, and he thinks it could become addictive - to make John feel like that and then drink it in as much as he can.
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