John is ready to forget every single thing about that day, ready to wrap it all up in a neat little package and bury it deep. Would be more than willing to trade or transmute his memories of the island and the game, for just about any substitute anyone might care to mention, although a friendly imaginary dog might be just the thing. (John likes dogs.)
Except there’s one thing, one little thing he can’t forget, doesn’t want to forget, one thing the memory of which he will hold onto his whole life, for all that it’s so simple, so small. So small, yes, but so…human.
Sherlock’s voice. Sherlock’s sweet, voice, pitched high and gentle, to calm a frightened child.
There was no frightened child. He knows this, knows it to be true but can’t think about it too closely, that or all the people who died because John believed there was a frightened child.
He didn’t know. None of them knew. They did their best. John knows how to box those thoughts away and seal the lid. It’s done. It’s already done.
Sherlock’s voice, though. It changed completely every time the voice came on. Calming. Gentling. Kind. Reassuring–Sherlock! As though he saw her fears, knew them, could see them and name them, and was not horrified, would not flee in the face of them, but stay and face them with her.
John thinks that no one could hear that voice and not feel safer. No matter what they were afraid of.
(John has been afraid of a great many things.)
The memory recedes, but never fades entirely. The fears as well.
Both, however, come washing, flooding, churning over John, when Sherlock turns to face him in the kitchen doorway.
He’s said something. He must have said something, something meaningless, that came out wrong, it must have, what was it, what was it, John is pinned by that fine-tipped gaze and he can’t–
–oh, yes, he said, “At least until you get sick of us and chuck us to the curb.”
What came before that? John can’t remember. It was meant as a joke but it’s stopped Sherlock in his tracks and he’s turned back to face John and John feels all of his fears rise up in him all at once because it isn’t a joke, it isn’t a joke at all, it is his worst fear, he’s terrified, no red dog to come to his aid, and he’s said it out loud and Sherlock is looking at him and he knows.
And he will see what this has come to mean to John, this pretend home with a pretend father for his daughter, no, not pretend, John is family, John is family, Sherlock said, Sherlock said. The thoughts pound in time with his heart, whirling in his turbid mind, he knows that Sherlock will see, and pause, and be gentle, and agree that it is only a matter of time, this pleasant fiction, this sweet little scrap of ordinariness could never be expected to hold his attention forever. No, says the evidence. Of course, say his fears.
Of course. John can do no more than meet Sherlock’s eyes and straighten his shoulders. His fate is clear to him now.
“John.” Sherlock takes a step towards him but it takes John a moment to recognise the voice. It is…different. In a way he has not been expecting. “John. It’s–it’s okay. No, it really is. It really is okay.”
It takes him a moment because he never expected to hear that voice, that voice pitched high and gentle, directed at him.
That voice. Sherlock takes another step. John squeezes his eyes shut, incredulous, but the voice goes on, so soft. “I’m here, John.” Calming. Reassuring. “I want you to stay.” As if he sees through John’s fears. He does, he does, sees them and names them. “I will always want you to stay. Both of you, forever.” Sees them and is not horrified, not poised to flee. “I think you want that too. Don’t you, John.” Sees them, and is ready to face them. With John.
“I–” John begins to stutter and deny. But that voice. No one could hear that voice and not feel safer.
John opens his eyes. Sherlock, who has taken all the steps so far, takes one more, draws up to John, and puts and hand on his elbow. He says, “Don’t you, John,” and slides his palm down John’s arm, takes John’s hand.
I need some help, advice, resources, whatever you have that might help my situation.
My mom and I have decided to re home Jasper, one of our cats, since he’s recently not okay with being in a multi cat household and regularly goes after our other cats and has bitten both of us three times total: each time we were trying to break up an altercation between cats. My mom has taken him to the vet clinic at Cat Depot in Sarasota (which btw, if you haven’t been you should go it sounds amazing), and the vet said yes to rehoming, but didn’t have many resources and agrees with us that surrendering him to a shelter would only make him more fearful and more aggressive. He agrees that we have exhausted all medical possibilities; his labs come back normal, he’s healthy, and he likely has a sudden onset of some neurological issue which puts him into a rage around other cats, including cats he’s been around for nearly a decade. Wherever he goes, he has to be an only cat. He’s already down in Florida with my mom and we’d like to be able to find him a new home before the final move here in a couple weeks. If anyone knows of anyone who knows cats, knows cat behavior, and is looking to adopt a special needs cat, please message me.
so myabe I’ll reintroduce myself, as I’ve been falling out of the community a bit (that from being tired of the people i come in contact with, drama and a bit of life in general) I’m bri! I’m known for making gifs, edits, and on occasian i do draw
i’ve been a part of this community for about two and a half years and can honestly say there is never a dull moment in the group. there are endless sources of creativity and laughs and people waiting for you to interact with. despite me not watching mark as much as i used to, the reason i still keep my blog running i think is because there is part of me that can’t imagine my life without it now. not just mark and amy and company, but the community as a whole i don’t think i could ever fully step away from.
so here is me re-welcoming people to my blog, and if you’re new consider checking out what i do on here! i hope to make more friends and be unapologetic of myself and just keep being me, and if i do that there will be people who will find me
*yes these are the glasses i gave mark that amy has taken upon herself to now own (which im 1000% ok with and would prefer it)