#sherfic

[3after-blog]

Part 5

“Hello…”

      His voice was deep

And

Warm.

      How could he just be, there? How could he wear that casual look, those eyes bored? His clothes were normal; his hair, his skin his existence, normal. How was it possible? How was it all possible?

My heart thudded in my throat, the bottom of my stomach dropped out. Nerves buzzed hot fire down my arms to my shaking hands and through my bloodstream into my head. This wasn’t real. He was not real. He was so-

“I hate you.”

I didn’t mean to whisper it I didn’t mean to even think it. It just sort of, slipped out. I tried so hard to find the words to say that I didn’t mean it, but didn’t I? Didn’t I really hate him? Every fiber of my being ached to hit him, or something. He had stepped into my life, forced his way in, and then he just severed all ties so instantly and without explanation. “I know, but if you could just let me ex-“

“No!” I shouted, turning to leave, “Why should I? You never do! You just left and you were dead, but I knew you weren’t. One last miracle and here you are and I hate you for it!” My own words were beginning to lose meaning to even myself. I noticed that my eyes had grown wet and were now spilling down my cheek. I hated myself for caring so much. I hated Sherlock for making me feel that way but there he was, alright and standing there like they had only parted for lunch.

“I know I have no right, but it was necessary, you have to believe me.” Sherlock implored, reaching out to catch my hand. I moved away but his blasted long arms caught my wrist. He did nothing more to advance toward me so I didn’t resist too much. “I don’t.”

Sherlock raised an eye brow. “I very much think you do.”  And I did. I knew I did, I knew he knew I did. “Fine, tell me why you had to.”

“Can’t.” Sherlock said, walking past me. He paused when he was side by side with me, and put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, old friend.” He said quietly, and then walked away to the others at the bench.

And that was it. Like it healed all the wounds, like he only had to say that to make it alright and make it like he had never broken my life into a thousand pieces with his…his… “death”.

“Come on Watson! There’s a case!”

    And I went…

to be continued...

[lapuslazulli]

Awesome Story Check It Out!

One of the best Sherlock/John stories I've read :)

I Will Take Care Of You

SailorChibi

Summary:

Two years after Sherlock's death, John comes to find him on the sofa. Wounded and ill, Sherlock is convinced he's hallucinating and refuses to share any details about Moran or the fact that Mycroft has been compromised. That doesn't stop John from stepping up and taking care of the last of Moriarty's web, BAMF-style.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/516641

[madamepens]

Chapter 9 of "Pane, Shutter, Glass" is up!

The story is here.

"The Feral Child" “Mrs. Ross, is it?” asked Sherlock, easy but business-like. “Yes.” She absently folded the apron in her arms. “You remember Dr. Lawrence?” asked Sherlock. The name belonged to Thalia’s last psychiatrist, who was well known for checking up on his patients often. “Dr. Lawrence Foley?” “Yes, I do,” said Mrs. Ross with a nod. “Are you his assistant? I’m not sure I remember you…” “I’m his new assistant, yes. I’m Dr. Bancroft,” said Sherlock.  

[madamepens]

Chapter 7 of "Pane, Shutter, Glass" is up.

The story is here.

"Whittle Them Off..."    "Tell me exactly what happened after she took you hostage," Sherlock said at length. He didn't meet the doctor's eyes, but rather trained them on the door in a faraway manner.    John stared for a moment and then swallowed, drumming for two short beats on the edge of his stool in an awkward manner. It was one thing for Sherlock Holmes to accuse John of being worried about him, and another thing entirely to see the impenetrable detective show worry for John, which was exactly what his question meant on the underside. 

[madamepens]

Chapter 5 of "Pane, Shutter, Glass" is up.

The story is here.

"The Same Sick Sense" She entered the den, unzipping her jacket as she approached a large chair. Then she paused and turned away from Sherlock, simply looking around the room, before she turned the other way. Her dark eyes met his light ones, and she froze completely.