fic - BBC!Sherlock - Such Stuff as Dreams are Made On
Title: Such Stuff as Dreams are Made On
Author: virdant
Length: 553 words; super-short
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen.
Pairing: None. Sherlock & Moriarty centric
Summary: To Sherlock, Moriarty is a dream come true. Literally.
Warning: Implications of off-screen death. Or: Moriarty is in this story, there is death involved.
Notes: Title from Shakespeare's The Tempest. Thanks to selkath for looking it over. And this is not for reiicharu for finally watching Sherlock.
Such Stuff as Dreams are Made On
Moriarty is a dream come true.
John doesn’t understand that. He can’t. He’s not capable of it.
But Sherlock is. The moment that Sherlock hears Jefferson Hope implicate Moriarty as his sponsor, he realizes just what Moriarty is.
*
Dear Moriarty, Sherlock writes in impeccable penmanship when he’s eight. He can already see Moriarty in his head.
Moriarty will be Sherlock’s best friend. Moriarty is the only person smart enough to keep up with Sherlock. The only person who can challenge him. Sherlock and Moriarty, they’ll change the world.
“Imaginary friends are so pedestrian,” Mycroft says scornfully.
Sherlock doesn’t say anything. Just writes his letter, folds it, and dreams.
*
In Sherlock’s first dream, they develop the cure to cancer in research laboratories. They market it, save thousands upon thousands of lives, and in the moonlight, their faces glow with triumph.
Moriarty, Sherlock realizes, is just as smart as him.
In Sherlock’s second dream, they go to the moon. And then all around the earth, building colonies after colonies in each of the Lagrange points. They re-build society to be better: stronger, smarter, safer.
Sherlock wakes in the morning with a smile on his face. Moriarty, he thinks, is brilliant.
He dreams every evening. Dreams of emptying the asylums after studying mind after mind. Dreams of cities made entirely of steel, and teleportation pads scattered around the world. Dreams of a network encompassing everything, so that he only has to reach out to see Moriarty, even if he’s half-way across the world.
Every day, Sherlock sits in class and stares blankly at a chalkboard. The teacher has nothing important to say. Nobody has anything important to say. They’re all so tediously dull.
He thinks of Moriarty sitting next to him whispering, We’ll be great, Sherlock.
Yes, Sherlock agrees. We will.
*
Sherlock writes letters to Moriarty. They start with Dear Moriarty and end with Sherlock Holmes. He writes them in his best penmanship (because best friends deserve the best) and covers pages after pages with neatening script.
Mycroft finds the letters. Of course Mycroft would find the letters. But instead of telling Mummy or Dad, Mycroft simply holds them to flames one by one, and Sherlock seethes as Mycroft burns away Moriarty.
“We could be great,” Sherlock says furiously. “Moriarty is brilliant.”
“Moriarty doesn’t exist,” Mycroft replies. “You’re twelve now, Sherlock. It’s time to stop dreaming of imaginary friends.”
“I won’t,” Sherlock snaps, but he watches Mycroft burn the letters. “I won’t.”
*
He stops.
*
There are letters that Mycroft didn’t find. Sherlock burns half of those and bins the other half, throwing them waddled up in trash bins all around London.
And then he goes home, closes his eyes, and dreams.
*
In Sherlock’s last dream, they release a virus into the world and watch as it kills everybody. Sherlock wakes, gasping, as Moriarty laughs and whispers, Look at them run, Sherlock. Like tiny ants scrambling for life. Just look at them, Sherlock. We’re the ones in control now.
He deletes Moriarty the next morning.
*
Jim is ten when he finds the letter in the trash.
Dear Moriarty,
Can you fix it for me, please?
Fix it so the world isn’t so tediously dull?
-Sherlock Holmes.
(Yes. Moriarty replies. Of course I will.)
end.
Chemorphesis
Masterlist of BBC!Sherlock fanfiction here
Masterlist of fandoms here
Author: virdant
Length: 553 words; super-short
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen.
Pairing: None. Sherlock & Moriarty centric
Summary: To Sherlock, Moriarty is a dream come true. Literally.
Warning: Implications of off-screen death. Or: Moriarty is in this story, there is death involved.
Notes: Title from Shakespeare's The Tempest. Thanks to selkath for looking it over. And this is not for reiicharu for finally watching Sherlock.
Such Stuff as Dreams are Made On
Moriarty is a dream come true.
John doesn’t understand that. He can’t. He’s not capable of it.
But Sherlock is. The moment that Sherlock hears Jefferson Hope implicate Moriarty as his sponsor, he realizes just what Moriarty is.
*
Dear Moriarty, Sherlock writes in impeccable penmanship when he’s eight. He can already see Moriarty in his head.
Moriarty will be Sherlock’s best friend. Moriarty is the only person smart enough to keep up with Sherlock. The only person who can challenge him. Sherlock and Moriarty, they’ll change the world.
“Imaginary friends are so pedestrian,” Mycroft says scornfully.
Sherlock doesn’t say anything. Just writes his letter, folds it, and dreams.
*
In Sherlock’s first dream, they develop the cure to cancer in research laboratories. They market it, save thousands upon thousands of lives, and in the moonlight, their faces glow with triumph.
Moriarty, Sherlock realizes, is just as smart as him.
In Sherlock’s second dream, they go to the moon. And then all around the earth, building colonies after colonies in each of the Lagrange points. They re-build society to be better: stronger, smarter, safer.
Sherlock wakes in the morning with a smile on his face. Moriarty, he thinks, is brilliant.
He dreams every evening. Dreams of emptying the asylums after studying mind after mind. Dreams of cities made entirely of steel, and teleportation pads scattered around the world. Dreams of a network encompassing everything, so that he only has to reach out to see Moriarty, even if he’s half-way across the world.
Every day, Sherlock sits in class and stares blankly at a chalkboard. The teacher has nothing important to say. Nobody has anything important to say. They’re all so tediously dull.
He thinks of Moriarty sitting next to him whispering, We’ll be great, Sherlock.
Yes, Sherlock agrees. We will.
*
Sherlock writes letters to Moriarty. They start with Dear Moriarty and end with Sherlock Holmes. He writes them in his best penmanship (because best friends deserve the best) and covers pages after pages with neatening script.
Mycroft finds the letters. Of course Mycroft would find the letters. But instead of telling Mummy or Dad, Mycroft simply holds them to flames one by one, and Sherlock seethes as Mycroft burns away Moriarty.
“We could be great,” Sherlock says furiously. “Moriarty is brilliant.”
“Moriarty doesn’t exist,” Mycroft replies. “You’re twelve now, Sherlock. It’s time to stop dreaming of imaginary friends.”
“I won’t,” Sherlock snaps, but he watches Mycroft burn the letters. “I won’t.”
*
He stops.
*
There are letters that Mycroft didn’t find. Sherlock burns half of those and bins the other half, throwing them waddled up in trash bins all around London.
And then he goes home, closes his eyes, and dreams.
*
In Sherlock’s last dream, they release a virus into the world and watch as it kills everybody. Sherlock wakes, gasping, as Moriarty laughs and whispers, Look at them run, Sherlock. Like tiny ants scrambling for life. Just look at them, Sherlock. We’re the ones in control now.
He deletes Moriarty the next morning.
*
Jim is ten when he finds the letter in the trash.
Dear Moriarty,
Can you fix it for me, please?
Fix it so the world isn’t so tediously dull?
-Sherlock Holmes.
(Yes. Moriarty replies. Of course I will.)
end.
Chemorphesis
Masterlist of BBC!Sherlock fanfiction here
Masterlist of fandoms here