Re: TW for Violence/Assault/HomophobiaapodiopsysMarch 22 2012, 23:22:12 UTC
The universe wasn't specified, so I kept it as general as possible. I did write it with BBC and RitchieVerse in mind, though.At fourteen, John barely knows what's going on with his body, let alone what he's doing with it. He's a mess the way all fourteen year old boys are; a dangerous cocktail of hormones and mood swings and painful, erratic spurts of growth. It starts as a game of football in his backyard with a mate, kicking the ball back and forth from either side of the garden, which leads to pushing and shoving and then wrestling on the floor the way that so many things ends these days
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Re: TW for Violence/Assault/HomophobiaapodiopsysMarch 22 2012, 23:23:48 UTC
"And what of Mary?" Holmes asks, so quietly that John almost misses the question.
"I love her," he says softly. "I don't - and I can't-" Watson looks lost for a moment, scared. Sherlock is quick to smooth a comforting hand down his side. "I do love her."
The two men are quiet for a few moments; Holmes' hand rests, fingers splayed, on John's ribcage. His breath is fleeting, quick inhale-exhale-inhale-exhale that makes his diaphram expand and contract under Sherlock's touch. He is afraid to move, to lean back into him that way he so desperately wants or out of touching distance, because he isn't allowed this, hasn't done anything to deserve it.
Tentatively, Sherlock leans forward. Watson can feel his breath, warm and wet on his skin, can feel the brush of his lips, dry and cracking. That's all it takes, and then he's twisting around so he can look him in the eye, because he needs to know, why is Holmes doing this?The answer he receieves is the one he wants, or maybe it isn't - John doesn't know. His instinct is to flee, when Holmes
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Re: TW for Violence/Assault/HomophobiaapodiopsysMarch 23 2012, 04:23:30 UTC
OP here! This is lovely. Thank you so much. I love how Holmes discovers the scars and how he tries to make Watson feel better. (My heart hurts for Watson being so confused over his feelings).
(Also, if you were wondering I was thinking more of one of the Viictorian verse when I wrote the prompt which is why I used Watson and Holmes instead of Sherlock and John).
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"I love her," he says softly. "I don't - and I can't-" Watson looks lost for a moment, scared. Sherlock is quick to smooth a comforting hand down his side. "I do love her."
The two men are quiet for a few moments; Holmes' hand rests, fingers splayed, on John's ribcage. His breath is fleeting, quick inhale-exhale-inhale-exhale that makes his diaphram expand and contract under Sherlock's touch. He is afraid to move, to lean back into him that way he so desperately wants or out of touching distance, because he isn't allowed this, hasn't done anything to deserve it.
Tentatively, Sherlock leans forward. Watson can feel his breath, warm and wet on his skin, can feel the brush of his lips, dry and cracking. That's all it takes, and then he's twisting around so he can look him in the eye, because he needs to know, why is Holmes doing this?The answer he receieves is the one he wants, or maybe it isn't - John doesn't know. His instinct is to flee, when Holmes ( ... )
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(Also, if you were wondering I was thinking more of one of the Viictorian verse when I wrote the prompt which is why I used Watson and Holmes instead of Sherlock and John).
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