nullalux
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Instead of the Moirai, Henry reached for the invisible threads of my fate and firmly intertwined them with his own.
Bookmarked by nullalux
18 Jan 2025
Bookmarker's Notes
At that moment, the bitter truth crawled out of the depths up my ribs and tenaciously dug into the furiously pounding organ. I loved Henry Winter. I'm sure it looked like an unhealthy attachment. Debateably. After all, I had no illusions. That's the difference. Pushing through the darkness of his soul, I noticed dancing shadows. Shadows need light. Even a tiny, dim kerosene lamp. You either accept or you cowardly turn away. I chose the first one.
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Roped In by thingswithwings
Fandoms: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes (2009)
19 Jan 2010
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Holmes hasn't heard Watson stutter at him like this since they first took rooms together, back when he was the kind of middle-class English gentleman who would be shocked by indoor target practice, or recreational drug use, or finding his housemate dressed as a barmaid, or –
Bookmarked by nullalux
28 Jun 2022
Bookmarker's Notes
“Something dangerous flashes over Watson's face, and yes – there it is – exactly the outcome he would've predicted from the facts at hand. He ruts down against Holmes' body and tightens his grip again, pulling the rope taut and baring his teeth in a glinting grin.”
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“I had,” he said, “come to an entirely erroneous conclusion, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from insufficient data.”
-- Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure of the Speckled Band
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Bookmarked by nullalux
05 May 2022
Bookmarker's Notes
“I’m your chaos.” I gesture toward the bed. No more hospital corners. No dreadful, peaceful, complete order that leaves John empty and riddled with pain and regret. No evidence of his nightmares. Only evidence of me. “I did this for you. Like Tchaikovsky.”
Make the connection: it’s so obvious. A second epiphany. These things I do, I do them because they soothe him, make him feel more connected to the world outside Afghanistan, to me. To soothe him, the way his tightly-made bed soothes him in the night when I cannot. (Couldn’t I? I think I could. Worth a try.) He does the same for me, his order soothes me.
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"You love this, being Sherlock Holmes."
He had once. When had it all gone so wrong?
Fully completed, not a WIP. Updates will post twice a week.
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While both Sherlock and Mycroft had been returned without any physical injuries, John could tell that neither of them were giving him the whole story.
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- English
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Bookmarked by nullalux
17 Jan 2022
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Bookmarker's Notes
Holmescest fuck or die. Incomplete work.