John comes home from a trip to the seaside with a pale-eyed young man in tow. Sherlock is tall, brilliant, and strangely sad, and seems incapable of leaving John's side. One day John brings a seal skin to Harry's house and makes her promise to hide it, and that she will never, ever tell Sherlock where it is.
Fill: Human For A While (1a/?)
anonymous
June 7 2011, 11:28:18 UTC
Human For A While
Part One: HarryJohn was a total wreck when he came home from Afghanistan: shoulder useless, hand shaking, a limp his therapist said was psychosomatic, if you wanted to listen to that sort of bullshit. Staggering along on an Army pension, no way he could stay in London permanently on that sort of money, but would he take anything from Harry? Would he buggery. Except the phone, and she was pretty sure he'd only accepted that because of Clara. Always thought he had an eye for Clara, though he denied it. His gaydar really was nonexistent, poor sap
( ... )
Re: Fill: Human For A While (1a/?)
anonymous
June 7 2011, 11:29:22 UTC
“Hector left us the house, Harry,” John said shakily. “It's a mess, but structurally sound. And the money - did you know he was that well off?”
“No,” Harry said. Good news for John, though; at least it would cushion things till he found a job, though presumably probate would take a while.
“I've found a flat to rent,” John said. “Mike Stamford knows someone who's just moving out, and Sherlock and I are going to share it.”
Too good to be true, Harry thought uneasily, but what was the point in saying that? John might look concussed, but he also looked happier than she'd seen him in years, and she wasn't going to rain on his parade.
They talked paperwork and house prices, Sherlock still gazing silently at John. Harry was almost starting to wonder if he could speak, but as the two of them were leaving he turned and said “You'll be wanting John's new address; it's 221b Baker Street
( ... )
Fill: Human For A While, 2a/?
anonymous
June 8 2011, 20:47:18 UTC
Human For A While
Part Two: John
Even in July, Hector’s house oozed damp and cold. The rooms had that unmistakable smell, too long unaired. Wardrobes bulged at the seams with musty clothes, piles of yellowing newspapers and unexpected grim stores of food tins and packets long past their sell-by date. (John remembered his mother twenty years ago, going through the Fife larder like a small blonde tornado as Hector protested: “They just make that date nonsense up so they can sell more. Put it back, Jean, it’s perfectly fine.” “It is not fine, Hector, it’s fermenting.”)
He scrubbed the kitchen floor and work surfaces with industrial quantities of disinfectant - at least he’d be able to walk across the room without sticking at every step, and throw together something to eat. The conservatory was freezing cold, but smelt less bad than the bedrooms, so he set up camp there, blessing the instinct that had made him pack his sleeping-bag. He wolfed down the doorstop sandwiches he’d made and sat staring out at the harbour, drinking his
( ... )
Fill: Human For A While, 2b/?
anonymous
June 8 2011, 20:48:30 UTC
He didn’t know what made him decide to go down to the sea in the dark, lie down on the slipway with his head hanging over the side, for all the world as if he wanted to get washed away. He’d had enough, that was all. Nothing worked. Nothing was any good. He felt the tears run down his face, couldn't even be bothered to feel ashamed of it any more, lying here crying stupidly into the sea.
A strange sort of howling from further along the beach made him scramble to his feet and peer into the darkness. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, then rubbed them, not believing what he saw.
What kind of idiot would go skinny-dipping in the middle of the night off the coast of Scotland?
A bloody gorgeous one, apparently. He'd seen more than his fair share of naked male bodies - that went with the job - but never a man as beautiful as this
( ... )
Re: Fill: Human For A While, 2b/?
anonymous
June 8 2011, 22:17:52 UTC
This? Is amazing. I love that you began with Harry and then went back to John to tell how it started - and oh my, that kiss! <3 Definitely bookmarking.
John comes home from a trip to the seaside with a pale-eyed young man in tow. Sherlock is tall, brilliant, and strangely sad, and seems incapable of leaving John's side. One day John brings a seal skin to Harry's house and makes her promise to hide it, and that she will never, ever tell Sherlock where it is.
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...second.
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Still want it really badly nonetheless
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Other people should feel free to do this too though! I so approve of other people jumping on this.
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Part One: HarryJohn was a total wreck when he came home from Afghanistan: shoulder useless, hand shaking, a limp his therapist said was psychosomatic, if you wanted to listen to that sort of bullshit. Staggering along on an Army pension, no way he could stay in London permanently on that sort of money, but would he take anything from Harry? Would he buggery. Except the phone, and she was pretty sure he'd only accepted that because of Clara. Always thought he had an eye for Clara, though he denied it. His gaydar really was nonexistent, poor sap ( ... )
Reply
“No,” Harry said. Good news for John, though; at least it would cushion things till he found a job, though presumably probate would take a while.
“I've found a flat to rent,” John said. “Mike Stamford knows someone who's just moving out, and Sherlock and I are going to share it.”
Too good to be true, Harry thought uneasily, but what was the point in saying that? John might look concussed, but he also looked happier than she'd seen him in years, and she wasn't going to rain on his parade.
They talked paperwork and house prices, Sherlock still gazing silently at John. Harry was almost starting to wonder if he could speak, but as the two of them were leaving he turned and said “You'll be wanting John's new address; it's 221b Baker Street ( ... )
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Part Two: John
Even in July, Hector’s house oozed damp and cold. The rooms had that unmistakable smell, too long unaired. Wardrobes bulged at the seams with musty clothes, piles of yellowing newspapers and unexpected grim stores of food tins and packets long past their sell-by date. (John remembered his mother twenty years ago, going through the Fife larder like a small blonde tornado as Hector protested: “They just make that date nonsense up so they can sell more. Put it back, Jean, it’s perfectly fine.” “It is not fine, Hector, it’s fermenting.”)
He scrubbed the kitchen floor and work surfaces with industrial quantities of disinfectant - at least he’d be able to walk across the room without sticking at every step, and throw together something to eat. The conservatory was freezing cold, but smelt less bad than the bedrooms, so he set up camp there, blessing the instinct that had made him pack his sleeping-bag. He wolfed down the doorstop sandwiches he’d made and sat staring out at the harbour, drinking his ( ... )
Reply
A strange sort of howling from further along the beach made him scramble to his feet and peer into the darkness. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, then rubbed them, not believing what he saw.
What kind of idiot would go skinny-dipping in the middle of the night off the coast of Scotland?
A bloody gorgeous one, apparently. He'd seen more than his fair share of naked male bodies - that went with the job - but never a man as beautiful as this ( ... )
Reply
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