Untitled: 4b/6
anonymous
January 20 2011, 07:10:43 UTC
“Ridiculous. I--” Sherlock bent over coughing, and then squatted, staring at the floor. He took out his hand lens and looked at the carpet. “Someone's been walking here in high heels. There are only trainers in that cupboard.”
Lestrade thought of the missing girl's mother, with her practical jumpers and job in retail. “A friend?”
“They have a mat down in the entryway--” He coughed again, and it took him ten seconds to stop. When he straightened up, he leaned back against the wall, looking drained. “-- with the boys' shoes,” he finished hoarsely. “The impractically light carpets are unsoiled. Visitors remove their shoes in this flat. Someone had a spare key--”
“Yeah, right, got it. Sherlock, go to the bloody A&E, or I'll arrest you for contaminating a crime scene!”
An indignant tilt of the head. “I haven't contaminated--” He coughed again, a deep, racking cough interspersed with gasps for air, and his breath wheezed going out. When he straightened up, there were tiny droplets of blood on his hand
( ... )
Re: Untitled: 4b/6
anonymous
January 20 2011, 12:23:52 UTC
OP here!
Augh, Sherlock really has no sense of self-preservation. My chest hurt in sympathy as I read about his coughing fits. I can just imagine him, ignoring his own health, forcing out his deductions between hacking spells
( ... )
Re: Untitled: 4b/6alltoseekJanuary 20 2011, 17:40:56 UTC
My theory: Sherlock stops taking care of himself when there are others around him who indicate they might care about him. 1) To find out if they do and how much - how far they will go to help him (this will indicate his value to them - when everyone calls you freak have to get affirmation somewhere :-); and 2) So he doesn't have to bother with trivia like buying his own food and medicine :-)
Untitled: 5a/6
anonymous
January 21 2011, 06:33:18 UTC
A/N: I wasn't sure about this one; I like to think of Sherlock as self-sufficient, despite his laziness on the show, and in the ACD stories he is quite self-sufficient (except for occasionally swooning from lack of food). However, given the prompt, it was logical that I would be writing stories about a vulnerable Sherlock... and the theme intrigued me. Additionally, it seems like the BBC show has ramped up the level of crime as compared to the ACD stores; I haven't read all of the latter, but I haven't found anything like Moriarty's bombings, or Jeff's serial killings. Therefore, perhaps the scenario is plausible
( ... )
Untitled: 5c/6
anonymous
January 21 2011, 06:38:04 UTC
Lestrade bolted the door and drew all the shades in the flat. When he returned to the kitchen, Sherlock had slumped over onto his side. “Well, that clearly wasn't a truth serum,” Lestrade muttered, and lifted him into a sitting position again. “Besides tired, what are your symptoms
( ... )
Untitled: 5d/6
anonymous
January 21 2011, 06:41:21 UTC
“What? Oh.” Lestrade looked round the kitchen, and passed him the bin. Sherlock bent over it and vomited, first bringing up liquid and then just heaving. Lestrade had helped too many green coppers through their first brutal crime scene to be affected, to feel anything but sympathy. When Sherlock stopped coughing, put the bin down, and leaned his head back against the cupboard again, Lestrade silently handed him a mug of water
( ... )
Re: Untitled: 5d/6alltoseekJanuary 21 2011, 17:59:45 UTC
What the OP said :-) This is very well done! Gripping. Lestrade is caring, conscientious, and respectful. And professional. That's a tough line to walk with Sherlock! Very much looking forward to the next one!
Re: Untitled: 5d/6
anonymous
January 22 2011, 17:41:07 UTC
Oh, just stumbled across this and it's brilliant - I love explorations of Sherlock and Lestrade's backstory and this is so well executed. I love how you're managing to show such tiny, fiercely concealed hints of vulnerability from Sherlock without going at all overboard with it - it's just right, it feels true.
Lestrade found his voice quickly. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?” His bellow was much better than the sergeant's-- who was it, anyway? That damn pup Gregson-- and the constables froze. He bodily removed one of them from Sherlock's proximity; the other one took the hint. “Dammit, Gregson! This is the man who called in the attack and saved my life! You idiot, did you leave your brains in bed?”
Glancing over, he saw Sherlock put his hands down and straighten his cuffs, expression more unreadable than ever, but Lestrade had five years' worth of experience with him to draw on; he turned back to Gregson, who had a faint flush along his cheekbones.
“He was pointing a gun in your direction,” he said stiffly.
“Yeah, he took it off one of the assassins. Who are right under your nose, by the way, so if you're done harassing the best consultant the Yard has ever had, maybe you could get to them sometime this morning
( ... )
Sherlock is such a BAMF here (and Lestrade's not short on the BAMF department, either). I love how Lestrade instantly trusts Sherlock (and has a healthy awe for what he's just done for him, and rightly so), how Lestrade defends Sherlock to Gregson and company, and, most especially, Sherlock's parting comment (which speaks volumes and volumes). I held my breath throughout this adrenaline-pumping sequence. It's a joy to see Sherlock in action like this.
This entire fic is absolutely wonderful. So very far above my highest hopes. Your characterizations are stunning, and I'm going to be haunted by this story (in the very best way) for a long, long time. Thank you, dear Anon.
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Lestrade thought of the missing girl's mother, with her practical jumpers and job in retail. “A friend?”
“They have a mat down in the entryway--” He coughed again, and it took him ten seconds to stop. When he straightened up, he leaned back against the wall, looking drained. “-- with the boys' shoes,” he finished hoarsely. “The impractically light carpets are unsoiled. Visitors remove their shoes in this flat. Someone had a spare key--”
“Yeah, right, got it. Sherlock, go to the bloody A&E, or I'll arrest you for contaminating a crime scene!”
An indignant tilt of the head. “I haven't contaminated--” He coughed again, a deep, racking cough interspersed with gasps for air, and his breath wheezed going out. When he straightened up, there were tiny droplets of blood on his hand ( ... )
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Augh, Sherlock really has no sense of self-preservation. My chest hurt in sympathy as I read about his coughing fits. I can just imagine him, ignoring his own health, forcing out his deductions between hacking spells ( ... )
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“Who did you think gave you heroin?”
“Alders.”
Bloody hell. “Alders,” he repeated. “Three of them? You said there were three new suspects ( ... )
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Can't wait to read the switch-up!
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Glancing over, he saw Sherlock put his hands down and straighten his cuffs, expression more unreadable than ever, but Lestrade had five years' worth of experience with him to draw on; he turned back to Gregson, who had a faint flush along his cheekbones.
“He was pointing a gun in your direction,” he said stiffly.
“Yeah, he took it off one of the assassins. Who are right under your nose, by the way, so if you're done harassing the best consultant the Yard has ever had, maybe you could get to them sometime this morning ( ... )
Reply
What a fantastic BAMF!Sherlock ending! Word would definitely get out not to mess with Lestrade...
I liked this whole thing!
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*flails*
This is so gorgeous, I can't even...
Sherlock is such a BAMF here (and Lestrade's not short on the BAMF department, either). I love how Lestrade instantly trusts Sherlock (and has a healthy awe for what he's just done for him, and rightly so), how Lestrade defends Sherlock to Gregson and company, and, most especially, Sherlock's parting comment (which speaks volumes and volumes). I held my breath throughout this adrenaline-pumping sequence. It's a joy to see Sherlock in action like this.
This entire fic is absolutely wonderful. So very far above my highest hopes. Your characterizations are stunning, and I'm going to be haunted by this story (in the very best way) for a long, long time. Thank you, dear Anon.
*huge, grateful hugs*
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