A Thousand Words: Resuscitation
Inspired by the fabulous @dragonnan's Blood and Romance (included by permission)
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Too old for this: my first half-thought as I flail and thrash my way back to consciousness. Iâm underwater, aching to breathe, but Iâll die if I do; but it isnât cold enough, Iâm not wet, where the hell I hurt all over and somethingâs wrong, itâs dark where is Sherlock
If Iâm not under water, I can breathe; I open my lips a hair and no water floods in, so I take a careful breath and itâs air. Not sweet, God no, tastes like mould and sewage, but definitely air, and shakily I suck it in.
I blink and try to focus but canât see anything. Where the hell am I, and where is Sherlock? Thereâa second complete thought, even if itâs just the ragged scraps from before stringing together into sense, thatâs got to be a good sign.
Okay. Okay. Stop, where am I. Listen.
In a silence so loud, a darkness so complete, I can hear my racing heartbeat even over my ragged pantingâbut nothing else, not close by. I canât breathe through my nose at all. I try to shift to generate some sound, get some idea at least of what kind of surface Iâm near or on. Take stock: everything hurts but I canât tell from what, I canât gather any sensory data to extrapolate anything from. (Sherlock would say, deduce. Iâm not Sherlock. Heâd know what to do to get some clarity here; Iâm just starting to panic.)
finish reading on AO3
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A Thousand Words: A picture's proverbially worth a thousand words and often inspires them, though the words may be many more or many fewer, as the Muse decides. Each chapter is a one-shot, inspired (so far) by @kettykika78, @justanobsessedpan, @stephdrawsjohnlock, @bluebellofbakerstreet, @petite-madame, and now dragonnan: more to come.
Thank you to all the artists who do fanworks: you are a  constant inspiration. And to the betas (@copperplatebeech for this ficlet) you are a godsend. And to the readers: we wouldn't be posting our stories without you.
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