“I don’t know,” you yelled back, “but I really don’t like them.”
“Come on, Y/N, we’re losing him,” said John, grabbing your hand and forcing you to speed up and take longer strides before the jump over gaps between buildings.
“The Batman freak or Sherlock?” you muttered under your breath.
The three of you were following a slightly crushed trail of pastel m&ms. Across the roofs of London.
Some maniac fan of The Geek Inquirer had decided to rob a sweets shop of its Valentine’s Day display. Sherlock had muttered something about obscure comic book villains and candy puns before noticing a line of chocolates on the steps of the fire escape and taking off.
“Sherlock,” John yelled over the wind, “Isn’t this a bit…low caliber for you? Just tell Lestrade to look for an idiot in spandex!”
“No time, John, I think they’ve got a helicopter!” Sherlock yelled.
“A WHAT?” you yelled at him, but he didn’t answer. You weren’t exactly enjoying yourself.
You had never told the boys, but you were deathly afraid of heights. Before you’d met them there hadn’t been a whole lot of problems with this. It wasn’t as though you did a lot of jumping from roof to roof in your everyday life.
You were trying not to look down at the sidewalk, at the sheer straight drop to the gray streets below. It was easy to imagine one missed step and then a free fall, feeling horribly unrestrained and then– just color on the pavement. But it was hard NOT to look as well, because then you were afraid that you’d misjudge the distance.
Right now, you were just settling for holding onto John and pretty much guessing every leap. It wasn’t the most satisfactory solution in the world.
From up ahead, you heard Sherlock say, “Damn!” in a very unSherlock tone– angry and overly frustrated.
You and John stopped in your tracks, about three buildings over from him, to watch in disbelief as a helicopter settled over a building maybe a quarter mile away and let down a ladder. Someone wearing quite a lot of pink and blue latched onto it, and the helicopter began to fly away.
“Unbelievable,” muttered John, looking partially amused and partially exasperated. “Alright, Y/N, home it is, I suppose. Did you want to play Cluedo?”
He was already heading towards the fire escape, but you grabbed his arm.
“John…wait. Look at Sherlock.”
John turned back and looked across the rooftops with you.
Sherlock was pacing at the edge of his building, sort of but not quite looking over the edge in a way that was all too familiar.
John sighed. “ ‘Damn,’ indeed. Come on, let’s go get him. Prat,” he added; fondly, you thought.
He jumped the first gap without you, so you had to leap by yourself. “John!” you called. “Is Sherlock…” You lowered your voice to a whisper as you neared him again.
“Is Sherlock afraid of heights?”
You made the next jump together. John let out a long suffering sigh. “I’m sworn to secrecy.”
“I had…no idea,” you said, feeling somehow humbled and comforted at the same time. If the great Sherlock Holmes was acrophobic, then…well, it was a whole lot less embarrassing for you.
“Yeah, well. It’s not the kind of thing he likes out in the open.”
The two of you made the last jump. Sherlock was closer to the middle now, standing almost perfectly still, gaze directed upwards. Both you and John went quiet. You could see Sherlock’s hands shaking, although they were partially obscured by his sleeves.
“Sherlock?” you said softly.
He seemed torn between running to you, hiding himself, and never moving again. You looked at him, standing there, helpless, and a sudden urge to help came over you, calming your own butterflies. You ran to him.
“…Sherlock? Hey, it’s just me. It’s Y/N. You okay?” You cringed at the stupidity of the question, but Sherlock didn’t seem to be in a position to correct you. He looked down at you, powder blue eyes glassy and terrified.
“I’m…alright, Y/N. I just…I…” he broke off, took a long, shaky breath that quickly turned into a short exhale that sounded like the beginning of a panic attack.
“Whoa, calm down, breathe,” you said, and reached for his hand almost instinctively. His long fingers tightened around yours immediately.
“It’s…” he swallowed, with difficulty. You looked up at John for guidance, but he only stepped a bit closer and mouthed “you’re doing really good”. You smothered your sigh.
“It’s…nothing…” he said, through gritted teeth. “I’m fine, Y/N.”
You let the sigh escape in exasperation. “Sherlock, don’t be so stupid. Come here. We’re going.”
Sherlock stiffened as you started to lead him over to the nearest fire escape.
“You’re not fine, look at you,” you murmured, worried.
“Y/N, I assure you…” but you had gotten a little too close to the edge for his tastes, and his eyes slammed shut while the words stopped coming. You glanced at John. He looked as frustrated as you felt, but when he noticed your look, he only gave you an encouraging “go on” kind of expression.
Sherlock was beginning to hyperventilate again, and you really didn’t want him to have a panic attack on the roof. You let go of his hand for a moment and stood squarely in front of him.
“Sherlock. Clearly you have a fear of heights.”
“Well, YES, but I’ll never admit it,” he snapped, ignoring the irony of the statement.
“Alright, here’s what I want you to do. Breathe with me, okay?”
“I AM breathing,” Sherlock growled.
“You know what I mean. Deep breaths. You need to calm down.” You put your arms around him and stilled his shaking. You felt as though you could take all his anxiety into yourself, so he wouldn’t have to carry it. “Breathe. You’re okay. You’re doing great.”
Eventually his breathing calmed down, and between you and John, you got him to climb onto the fire escape, and then to walk home.
Sherlock was unusually subdued on the walk back.
“Hey…Sherlock…” you said, wanting to make things right but not exactly sure where to start. John muttered something about calling Lestrade and hung back a few feet behind you. Sherlock gave you a noncommittal grunt.
You put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s…it’s not anything to be embarrassed about. Can I tell you a secret?”
Sherlock eyed you suspiciously. “What secret could you have that I haven’t deduced yet?” Still miffed. Well, that was understandable. You stood on your tiptoes to reach his head, then motioned at him to lean his head towards you. He did so, begrudgingly.
“I’m afraid of heights too,” you whispered. You pulled away and Sherlock just looked at you, faintly puzzled.
“I doubt you noticed, in the heat of everything.” You smiled at him, then gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Does it only happen when you don’t have anything to focus on?”
“…yes,” he finally said, quite softly.
“Lucky,” you told him. “Want to play Cluedo when we get back?”
Our morning shooting schedule for @fixedbrothers was interupted by a small herd of elk, led by this male. This huge bull spotted a male challenger and began raking his antlers against the brush. He then proceeded to bugle (scream) towards the imposing male before tearing off through the bush to ward him off.
Hi Carrie! I was wondering what was your most vocally demanding roles compared to your most physically demanding so far?
I’ve not played that many roles in my adult career but so far, Eponine was probably the most vocally and physically challenging. She does a lot of running for the majority of the time she’s on stage and lots of climbing up the towers of Paris and climbing over the barricades.However, I have a feeling Wednesday is going to nip the top spot for most vocally challenging and I think it’s the first role as an adult where I’ll be dancing (I did a little bit as Truly but only a few steps!)!
I move around an awful lot when I’m reading. I usually start in my chair, trying to sit and read like a normal human being, but seeing as that’s just not the way I was created to be, I tend to move from there to my bed where I lie either on my stomach or my back. Of course the arms and elbows do take quite a bit of wear and tear in these positions so I finally settle in the beanbag in the corner. There I will stay for probably a few hours, lying on my back with my feet up on the bed so as to give my girl Cami some room to sleep beside me. Some (Most) days I don’t even get as far as the beanbag in my reading cycle because there’s a cat or two that’s taken up residence for the day. But that’s life.