Alone
Fandom: Sherlock
Rating/Warnings: G/none
Pairing: John/Sherlock friendship
Notes: Just a little something set just before the pool scene in The Great Game.
He lay on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling, willing the clock to hurry up and get to midnight.
John was gone. Therefore, the flat was more stifling than usual.
True, Sherlock didn’t always notice whether he was here or not, occasionally spoke to the empty silence out of habit; but this time he’d specifically asked him to go, and all towards this grand purpose. The minute the door closed behind him, Sherlock had thrown himself upon his laptop like a hungry creature, tapping out a fateful digital telegram to the enemy who’d been behind so much mayhem lately.
But it wasn’t quite midnight. Sherlock had spent an hour already with his violin, playing the most dramatic pieces he knew. Finally even that was played-out, and he’d set it aside for the more pedestrian option of plaster-watching. He couldn’t stand this endless waiting. It preyed on his mind like a creeping disease. The real work was done and now he was ready for this whole thing to be over. He had sent John away because for once, this would be too dangerous even for him. He couldn’t ask John to come along on this adventure. It wasn’t his fight.
No, this game had been arranged for Sherlock, and Sherlock alone.
So Sherlock would go to the pool.
Alone.
Rating/Warnings: G/none
Pairing: John/Sherlock friendship
Notes: Just a little something set just before the pool scene in The Great Game.
He lay on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling, willing the clock to hurry up and get to midnight.
John was gone. Therefore, the flat was more stifling than usual.
True, Sherlock didn’t always notice whether he was here or not, occasionally spoke to the empty silence out of habit; but this time he’d specifically asked him to go, and all towards this grand purpose. The minute the door closed behind him, Sherlock had thrown himself upon his laptop like a hungry creature, tapping out a fateful digital telegram to the enemy who’d been behind so much mayhem lately.
But it wasn’t quite midnight. Sherlock had spent an hour already with his violin, playing the most dramatic pieces he knew. Finally even that was played-out, and he’d set it aside for the more pedestrian option of plaster-watching. He couldn’t stand this endless waiting. It preyed on his mind like a creeping disease. The real work was done and now he was ready for this whole thing to be over. He had sent John away because for once, this would be too dangerous even for him. He couldn’t ask John to come along on this adventure. It wasn’t his fight.
No, this game had been arranged for Sherlock, and Sherlock alone.
So Sherlock would go to the pool.
Alone.