![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anactoriaTitle: It Will Not Last the Night
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
anactoria
Characters/pairing: Sherlock/John
Rating: PG
Summary: John knows that sometimes, Sherlock paralyses his better instincts.
Notes: 221B format ficlet, not betaed. Title is from Edna St Vincent Millay, but you already knew that. ;)
“How—how did you know to look on the ceiling?” John is breathless as they tumble in from the cold night air, can’t suppress his grin. “Just brilliant. Really.”
“A better question would be, how did the rest of you fail to notice,” Sherlock sniffs. “I despair.” But there is no rancour in his voice, and when he turns to face John he’s smiling. No; shining. There is something febrile in his eyes, and his hands don’t stop weaving through the air, and if he didn’t know better John would think he was coked up. John does know better, though, so he just collapses into his armchair and watches.
John also knows that sometimes, Sherlock paralyses his better instincts. Times like now.
He should drag Sherlock down to Angelo’s and make him eat something, or at least try and persuade him to go to bed, but like this—starving and hollow-eyed and high and happy—Sherlock is like a Catherine wheel. John can only watch, and hope he doesn’t spin out of control, and be there when the light sputters out.
Moments like this scare him. One day, maybe, Sherlock will go up in flames and take John with him. He shouldn’t rely on something so temporary as fire—but it is so, so easy to love it as it burns.
Author:
anactoria Characters/pairing: Sherlock/John
Rating: PG
Summary: John knows that sometimes, Sherlock paralyses his better instincts.
Notes: 221B format ficlet, not betaed. Title is from Edna St Vincent Millay, but you already knew that. ;)
“How—how did you know to look on the ceiling?” John is breathless as they tumble in from the cold night air, can’t suppress his grin. “Just brilliant. Really.”
“A better question would be, how did the rest of you fail to notice,” Sherlock sniffs. “I despair.” But there is no rancour in his voice, and when he turns to face John he’s smiling. No; shining. There is something febrile in his eyes, and his hands don’t stop weaving through the air, and if he didn’t know better John would think he was coked up. John does know better, though, so he just collapses into his armchair and watches.
John also knows that sometimes, Sherlock paralyses his better instincts. Times like now.
He should drag Sherlock down to Angelo’s and make him eat something, or at least try and persuade him to go to bed, but like this—starving and hollow-eyed and high and happy—Sherlock is like a Catherine wheel. John can only watch, and hope he doesn’t spin out of control, and be there when the light sputters out.
Moments like this scare him. One day, maybe, Sherlock will go up in flames and take John with him. He shouldn’t rely on something so temporary as fire—but it is so, so easy to love it as it burns.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-03-12 07:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-12 07:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-12 07:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-12 07:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-12 07:46 pm (UTC)Thank you for sharing!
no subject
Date: 2012-03-12 08:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-12 08:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-12 09:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-04-19 06:30 am (UTC)Sherlock, shining. Excellent visual.
no subject
Date: 2012-04-19 08:49 am (UTC)