Nightwatch
29 October 2012 16:49![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chocolamousseTitle: Nightwatch
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Category: Romance
Rating: PG-13
Beta: The adorable![[livejournal.com profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
verityburns
Word count: 273
Translations: Into Chinese by Lowtension available here or here. Into Czech by miamam available here.
Summary: 221B Baker Street, a bedroom, at night. Before the Fall.
The room is quiet. I hear only John's breath. I see his chest rise and fall steadily. It’s so soothing. I watch his sleepy face in the shadowy light, endlessly, and though I know it by heart it's not boring at all. If I close my eyes I still see it.
I observe the way his eyelids and his lips sometimes quiver. Maybe he's dreaming. Happy dreams, I hope. He has no nightmares when I'm with him. Two nights ago his eyes suddenly opened, he stared at me and I stopped breathing. After a few seconds he gave me a slight smile and closed his eyes again. He hadn't really woken up.
He shifts a little in the bed and his hand settles next to my face. I fix my gaze on it, as if mesmerised. I come near, until my mouth brushes against it. I close my eyes. I can feel the warmth of his skin on my lips. Something breaks inside me. Oh God, this is enough.
I stand up slowly and, as I do every night, I smooth the blanket out to efface any trace. He wouldn't notice anyway. A last look and I leave John's room as silently as I came in, about an hour ago. I go back to my room.
I wonder what he would say if he knew. I wonder if, one day, he'll wake up and find me there, next to his bed, in my dressing gown, my legs tucked to the side, my head resting on my arms folded on the cover, watching, watching over him. I'm afraid he will.
I hope he will.
Author's note: Are you in the mood for angsting? With my customary quick-wittedness I realised after writing it that if you skip in my dressing gown and I go back to my room, lo and behold, it's now a very sad post-Reichenbach story. Sherlock comes back to 221B every night to spend some moments next to John who's sleeping. When John woke up two days ago he felt perfectly happy for a few seconds, because he remembered seeing Sherlock, then he remembered Sherlock was dead and... Right. I definitely recommend the pre-Reichenbach version.
It's my first fic and I wrote it forverityburns' birthday, some months ago. Many, many thanks to her and to the lovely arianedevere; without their kindness and their encouragement and their kicks in the pants I'd probably never have written, let alone posted, anything. I owe you!
There is a prequel now, The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of, and a sequel, Awakening.
There is also a podfic, by the wonderfulverityburns.
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Category: Romance
Rating: PG-13
Beta: The adorable
verityburnsWord count: 273
Translations: Into Chinese by Lowtension available here or here. Into Czech by miamam available here.
Summary: 221B Baker Street, a bedroom, at night. Before the Fall.
The room is quiet. I hear only John's breath. I see his chest rise and fall steadily. It’s so soothing. I watch his sleepy face in the shadowy light, endlessly, and though I know it by heart it's not boring at all. If I close my eyes I still see it.
I observe the way his eyelids and his lips sometimes quiver. Maybe he's dreaming. Happy dreams, I hope. He has no nightmares when I'm with him. Two nights ago his eyes suddenly opened, he stared at me and I stopped breathing. After a few seconds he gave me a slight smile and closed his eyes again. He hadn't really woken up.
He shifts a little in the bed and his hand settles next to my face. I fix my gaze on it, as if mesmerised. I come near, until my mouth brushes against it. I close my eyes. I can feel the warmth of his skin on my lips. Something breaks inside me. Oh God, this is enough.
I stand up slowly and, as I do every night, I smooth the blanket out to efface any trace. He wouldn't notice anyway. A last look and I leave John's room as silently as I came in, about an hour ago. I go back to my room.
I wonder what he would say if he knew. I wonder if, one day, he'll wake up and find me there, next to his bed, in my dressing gown, my legs tucked to the side, my head resting on my arms folded on the cover, watching, watching over him. I'm afraid he will.
I hope he will.
Author's note: Are you in the mood for angsting? With my customary quick-wittedness I realised after writing it that if you skip in my dressing gown and I go back to my room, lo and behold, it's now a very sad post-Reichenbach story. Sherlock comes back to 221B every night to spend some moments next to John who's sleeping. When John woke up two days ago he felt perfectly happy for a few seconds, because he remembered seeing Sherlock, then he remembered Sherlock was dead and... Right. I definitely recommend the pre-Reichenbach version.
It's my first fic and I wrote it for
verityburns' birthday, some months ago. Many, many thanks to her and to the lovely arianedevere; without their kindness and their encouragement There is a prequel now, The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of, and a sequel, Awakening.
There is also a podfic, by the wonderful
verityburns.
(no subject)
Date: 29 October 2012 17:41 (UTC)I'm so, SO thrilled to see an entry in your lovely journal after all the
kickingencouragement that we've beenrelentlesslydevotedly lavishing upon your lovely self for all these months. Admittedly, the process did become easier once we discovered LiveJournal's 'nudge' option, but still... we're talking hours ofplottingdevotion here :DThis is beautiful, just really, really beautiful. So much atmosphere that the words can't contain it all - it's spilling out over your readers.
Immediately from 'The room is quiet', I am holding my breath, sucked in completely... and no one had best disturb me while I'm reading this - although, I'm not sure I'd notice even if they tried.
I adore 'He has no nightmares when I'm with him.' I love the simple fact of it - and I love Sherlock's tangible pride in the statement.
As Ari says, the last two sentences are exceptionally... I'm not sure of the word... 'tingle-inducing'? Something like that. I really like the way you've split the last one into its own paragraph. It deserves its own paragraph.
Very well done to you, my dear - both for writing something this gorgeous and for having the courage to share it. I feel like I'm having my birthday again!
(no subject)
Date: 29 October 2012 19:10 (UTC)Yeah, my lovely self has been
ruthlessly harassedgently cheered on for months and it's only toput a stop to this tormentplease you that I post at last. And I hope you're pleased, because I'm tremendously pleased, and smiling like a happy idiot, when I read your comment.I adore 'He has no nightmares when I'm with him.' I love the simple fact of it - and I love Sherlock's tangible pride in the statement.
Ah, thank you! I'm glad you felt that.
I'm so, so happy you love what I wrote, first because I wrote it for you, then because, as you know it, I value your opinion so much. I think I'm going to add a subheading, in capitals and a lot of exclamation marks: "VERITY SAID IT'S TINGLE-INDUCING!!!". Good advert, in my opinion. :D
Thank you again for all your kindness and your support, and also your patient beta work. Now I can say like the others, "VERITY MADE ME!" :D