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aliyn_ravenA bit retro. Forgotten fandom, but I love this cute craziness.
https://www.wattpad.com/story/341514125-fanfics-about-sherlock-bbc
https://archiveofourown.org/works/47086126
Summary: Sherlock awkwardly tried to spark John's passion. And hurt him so much that John left. However, coming to terms with loss isn't about Sherlock.
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*********
Ajax, thanks for the preliminary reading.
*********
*********
When the answer to his words was silence, Sherlock was surprised. He was expecting something completely different. Sherlock was sure that John would prove by his actions how much love is more important than writing and a skull, and that John does not want, can't want anyone else.
But nothing happened. John left. And he did it in such a way that even Sherlock didn't hear a thing. Did Sherlock say something wrong again? No, if it was happening, John always talked about it.
Or did he leave? But Mrs. Hudson is watching a TV series, it's some kind of soppy melodrama, Sherlock heard the actors' voices through the door, which means she doesn't have John. John cannot be in his room even more so, it has long become Sherlock's laboratory, and John has ceased to be angry that the kitchen is a mess and poisons. Still, Sherlock looked into the room. No, John didn't want to do chemistry.
John is with Sarah. And he will come in the morning to change. Sherlock smiled contentedly. In the morning, John will have his favorite jam waiting for him. And cinnamon rolls. And…
Fantasy was not enough for "and". But Sherlock is sure to come up with something. In the meantime, he stole a jar of jam and a package of flour from Mrs. Hudson and set the alarm for early morning so that he could make the buns himself. It's a simple matter, the same chemistry experience, and John deserves better-baked goods than from the corner candy shop.
Crap. John is more angry than Sherlock thought. [What have I done?] Sherlock wondered. But this is an unproductive question. It will be right to understand that tricky way of brewing tea that John likes so much. It's amazing that such a sloppy eater — John can even eat canned dog food, he would say that it used to be worse in the army, and will eat it — he is so finely versed in tea and coffee. The damn East and all its ancient culture, the damn army that sends its people to India and Afghanistan.
But the difficult cases only provoked Sherlock. And after many recipes read and several attempts, he made a tea that could arouse the admiration of the Maharaja and the Padishah.
The morning has come. Sherlock got a scolding from Mrs. Hudson, softened her with buns and tea, and figured out the three cases that were sent to the post office, but John never returned.
Sherlock couldn't get it wrong, John was on his second shift today. Actually, Sherlock arranged everything yesterday precisely because John does not have to get up early in the morning, which means that at night you can afford a little more than usual.
Are there John's things in Sarah's apartment? He and Sherlock didn't fight enough for John to partially settle in another house. And John couldn't do without his phone! He didn’t buy a new one... That would be too much.
John didn't come in the evening. But Sarah phoned, asked how John was feeling, and offered to come and check up on him.
"Doctors are the worst patients. We all think that if we heal others, we can heal ourselves, but this is not true. John is an excellent doctor, but it is better if someone else treats him."
There were many dangerous situations in Sherlock's life. He loved danger, enjoyed risk and adrenaline. But now, for the first time in his life, Sherlock almost choked with horror.
And he didn't like it at all. It was much worse than the poisoning with dirty drugs.
Sherlock muttered that John took his medicine, watched TV, drank hot milk and fell asleep. And Sherlock cut off the connection with Sarah.
John's wallet with credit cards and cash was in his desk drawer. Sherlock found John's driver's license in his jacket. There was also a pass to the hospital and the sports center.
No one leaves home with nothing.
Unless he's going to...
Sherlock was in the blink of an eye near the cache of pistols. All weapons were in place. And John is unlikely to want to kill himself otherwise. And why would he do it?! After all, nothing so terrible happened. Or happened? And John punishes Sherlock with a game of hide and seek?
John could have been with Lestrade, Sally, Angelo, Mike Stamford, and even Andersen or Clara. Everyone loved John, everyone always wanted to help him. John could have been with his sister. This woman is a complete drunkard, it is unbearable to live with her in the same house, but she adores her brother. And Sherlock took Harry's promise to kill him very seriously if anything happened to John. 'I have nothing to lose, and John is the best of people'.
Sherlock agreed with her on this. John is the best of people. This is why Lestrade, Sarah, Anderson, Angelo, Mike, and anyone else in the circle of friends Sherlock and John won't be able to resist the urge to phone Sherlock and scold him for hurting John. And Harry, with her hot temper, besides warmed up by alcohol, would have already rushed to break the bottle on Sherlock's head.
Clara was on a business trip to Bristol that evening when John left, today she went to Cardiff, and she was definitely alone everywhere — Sherlock easily checked her social media accounts and messengers on her phone: she did not communicate with John these days.
Molly! Everyone knows she is in love with Sherlock, and no one will look for John from her. But only Sherlock knows that Molly still loves justice very much, and if she evaluates Sherlock's behavior as bad, she will reliably hide John, if not with herself, then with her friends. Even more likely, she will take him to a female friend or a gay friend. Subconscious. Molly's desire to get rid of her rival and her sympathy for John will be equally satisfied if John is in the arms of a new partner.
Jealousy? Sherlock knew exactly what this thing was. Or rather, he recognized it perfectly well when John appeared. Damn Watson-Three-Continents couldn't walk a dozen steps without picking up a great chick or a cool fellow. At first, Sherlock did not understand what they saw in him but soon realized that he himself could not do without his blogger. In no way can. And never can.
Sherlock masterfully drove out all the pretenders for John's love, but getting him himself turned out to be much more difficult than Sherlock thought. And yet he got his way. Sherlock always got what he wanted.
But where is John?
Sherlock phoned Molly, asking about interesting corpses. Her voice sounded calm, without a trace of tension. Molly can lie to Sherlock for a friend, but she doesn't have the strength or the nerve to hide it. John didn't visit Molly, didn't phone her.
Sherlock drove away the melancholy and horror. These things are not productive. Something useful is needed. And Sherlock hacked into the server with records from surveillance cameras — a simple task, the police never learned how to work. And Sherlock found a cabman. And the next morning he visited Chris Rice.
But the trail ended there. Chris had no idea where John went. And although he outspeaks Sherlock about everything he thought about faggots, he didn't take a penny from him when Sherlock offered to pay off John's debt. And Chris threatened with a crutch if Sherlock didn't get out immediately.
The day passed like a heavy delirium, and in the evening Sherlock phoned Mycroft. What the hell is pride when it comes to John?!
Mycroft gave Sherlock a job in the morning to keep him from going crazy with idleness, but to Sherlock's dismay, his brother did not find any traces during the whole night of searching. John has disappeared. And Mycroft wasn't lying. Sherlock knew his brother well enough to notice his agitation and confusion, no matter how he concealed his feelings.
Sherlock survived on this third day only thanks to work. The riddles were enticing, but there was no taste or passion in them — Sherlock realized this as soon as he started the business. Yes, he was married at work. But today it turned out that the work managed to marry John, and it doesn’t need Sherlock without its husband.
Sherlock successfully solved the case without answering questions about why John wasn't with him and bought the drug. Anesthesia was required to get through another night without John. But Sherlock flushed the syringe down the toilet along with its contents. He didn't want John to see him baked when he got back. Sherlock was afraid that John would then get angry again and leave.
But John did not return. And Mycroft still couldn't find him.
And at the end of this unbearable day, Sarah phoned.
"What did you do with John if he sent a letter of compensatory holidays and dismissal by mail? He didn't come to say goodbye, he only wrote that everything was fine with him and he apologized for the sudden disappearance, but he would stay in the shadows so that you could not find him!"
Sherlock responded with something vague, cut off the connection with her and hacked into John's bank website. All his money was there. What is he going to live on then? You can open a new account in half an hour, but where does John get the money for this and the legal ones?
Lestrade, Sally, Harry, Anderson, Mike, Angelo and even Clara phone him after Sarah. And Mrs. Hudson by herself explained to Sherlock what an idiot he was, and was not too lazy to go up to his apartment.
Despite the late evening, Sherlock rushed to Chris Rice. John sent him the borrowed things and money in the mail. Sherlock questioned the post office workers. And again a dead end. The parcel was delivered by a courier. Sherlock found him too, but the guy didn't remember who gave him the package, a man or a woman, there were too many orders. And the guy accepted some without registration, put the entire fee in his wallet, and even more so did not want to remember the clients. Money failed to evoke memories, the guy only said that he was called to the mall, where there were a lot of people. And he was not afraid of the threat to hand him over to his superiors: there are a lot of delivery services, and a courier is not a position that is difficult to get a job.
John threw letters for everyone else into a post box at Victoria Station. This thread is also cut off.
Sherlock hacked into the Department for Transport server: a person cannot live without a driver's license, which means John must restore them. But there was nothing.
Only Mycroft phoned and mocked that Sherlock left traces — Mycroft's minions followed the issuance of rights. They also monitored bank cards — as far as possible in principle. But nowhere was a card in the name of John H. Watson lit up. More precisely, among all the people who were noticed, having the name John H. Watson, there was not that same John.
"John didn't cross the border", Mycroft added. "But you know, to leave the island of Great Britain, it is unnecessary to use a plane, a tunnel or buy a ticket for a ferry to Ireland. Nobody has a ban on sailing on their own yacht wherever they want and to take friends with them. And any cheap trough is called a yacht if it is an inch larger than the boat."
The thought that John had gone to sign up for the French Foreign Legion made Sherlock shudder.
"Brother," Mycroft said, "this is a good time to think about how stupid it is to waste attention on a person who is... um... so far from being a genius."
"John is much closer to being a genius than you are to being able to think!" Sherlock snarled and threw the phone against the wall. And a moment later he crouched on the couch, howling desperately, like a wounded animal.
https://www.wattpad.com/story/341514125-fanfics-about-sherlock-bbc
https://archiveofourown.org/works/47086126
Summary: Sherlock awkwardly tried to spark John's passion. And hurt him so much that John left. However, coming to terms with loss isn't about Sherlock.
*********
*********
Ajax, thanks for the preliminary reading.
*********
*********
When the answer to his words was silence, Sherlock was surprised. He was expecting something completely different. Sherlock was sure that John would prove by his actions how much love is more important than writing and a skull, and that John does not want, can't want anyone else.
But nothing happened. John left. And he did it in such a way that even Sherlock didn't hear a thing. Did Sherlock say something wrong again? No, if it was happening, John always talked about it.
Or did he leave? But Mrs. Hudson is watching a TV series, it's some kind of soppy melodrama, Sherlock heard the actors' voices through the door, which means she doesn't have John. John cannot be in his room even more so, it has long become Sherlock's laboratory, and John has ceased to be angry that the kitchen is a mess and poisons. Still, Sherlock looked into the room. No, John didn't want to do chemistry.
John is with Sarah. And he will come in the morning to change. Sherlock smiled contentedly. In the morning, John will have his favorite jam waiting for him. And cinnamon rolls. And…
Fantasy was not enough for "and". But Sherlock is sure to come up with something. In the meantime, he stole a jar of jam and a package of flour from Mrs. Hudson and set the alarm for early morning so that he could make the buns himself. It's a simple matter, the same chemistry experience, and John deserves better-baked goods than from the corner candy shop.
Crap. John is more angry than Sherlock thought. [What have I done?] Sherlock wondered. But this is an unproductive question. It will be right to understand that tricky way of brewing tea that John likes so much. It's amazing that such a sloppy eater — John can even eat canned dog food, he would say that it used to be worse in the army, and will eat it — he is so finely versed in tea and coffee. The damn East and all its ancient culture, the damn army that sends its people to India and Afghanistan.
But the difficult cases only provoked Sherlock. And after many recipes read and several attempts, he made a tea that could arouse the admiration of the Maharaja and the Padishah.
The morning has come. Sherlock got a scolding from Mrs. Hudson, softened her with buns and tea, and figured out the three cases that were sent to the post office, but John never returned.
Sherlock couldn't get it wrong, John was on his second shift today. Actually, Sherlock arranged everything yesterday precisely because John does not have to get up early in the morning, which means that at night you can afford a little more than usual.
Are there John's things in Sarah's apartment? He and Sherlock didn't fight enough for John to partially settle in another house. And John couldn't do without his phone! He didn’t buy a new one... That would be too much.
John didn't come in the evening. But Sarah phoned, asked how John was feeling, and offered to come and check up on him.
"Doctors are the worst patients. We all think that if we heal others, we can heal ourselves, but this is not true. John is an excellent doctor, but it is better if someone else treats him."
There were many dangerous situations in Sherlock's life. He loved danger, enjoyed risk and adrenaline. But now, for the first time in his life, Sherlock almost choked with horror.
And he didn't like it at all. It was much worse than the poisoning with dirty drugs.
Sherlock muttered that John took his medicine, watched TV, drank hot milk and fell asleep. And Sherlock cut off the connection with Sarah.
John's wallet with credit cards and cash was in his desk drawer. Sherlock found John's driver's license in his jacket. There was also a pass to the hospital and the sports center.
No one leaves home with nothing.
Unless he's going to...
Sherlock was in the blink of an eye near the cache of pistols. All weapons were in place. And John is unlikely to want to kill himself otherwise. And why would he do it?! After all, nothing so terrible happened. Or happened? And John punishes Sherlock with a game of hide and seek?
John could have been with Lestrade, Sally, Angelo, Mike Stamford, and even Andersen or Clara. Everyone loved John, everyone always wanted to help him. John could have been with his sister. This woman is a complete drunkard, it is unbearable to live with her in the same house, but she adores her brother. And Sherlock took Harry's promise to kill him very seriously if anything happened to John. 'I have nothing to lose, and John is the best of people'.
Sherlock agreed with her on this. John is the best of people. This is why Lestrade, Sarah, Anderson, Angelo, Mike, and anyone else in the circle of friends Sherlock and John won't be able to resist the urge to phone Sherlock and scold him for hurting John. And Harry, with her hot temper, besides warmed up by alcohol, would have already rushed to break the bottle on Sherlock's head.
Clara was on a business trip to Bristol that evening when John left, today she went to Cardiff, and she was definitely alone everywhere — Sherlock easily checked her social media accounts and messengers on her phone: she did not communicate with John these days.
Molly! Everyone knows she is in love with Sherlock, and no one will look for John from her. But only Sherlock knows that Molly still loves justice very much, and if she evaluates Sherlock's behavior as bad, she will reliably hide John, if not with herself, then with her friends. Even more likely, she will take him to a female friend or a gay friend. Subconscious. Molly's desire to get rid of her rival and her sympathy for John will be equally satisfied if John is in the arms of a new partner.
Jealousy? Sherlock knew exactly what this thing was. Or rather, he recognized it perfectly well when John appeared. Damn Watson-Three-Continents couldn't walk a dozen steps without picking up a great chick or a cool fellow. At first, Sherlock did not understand what they saw in him but soon realized that he himself could not do without his blogger. In no way can. And never can.
Sherlock masterfully drove out all the pretenders for John's love, but getting him himself turned out to be much more difficult than Sherlock thought. And yet he got his way. Sherlock always got what he wanted.
But where is John?
Sherlock phoned Molly, asking about interesting corpses. Her voice sounded calm, without a trace of tension. Molly can lie to Sherlock for a friend, but she doesn't have the strength or the nerve to hide it. John didn't visit Molly, didn't phone her.
Sherlock drove away the melancholy and horror. These things are not productive. Something useful is needed. And Sherlock hacked into the server with records from surveillance cameras — a simple task, the police never learned how to work. And Sherlock found a cabman. And the next morning he visited Chris Rice.
But the trail ended there. Chris had no idea where John went. And although he outspeaks Sherlock about everything he thought about faggots, he didn't take a penny from him when Sherlock offered to pay off John's debt. And Chris threatened with a crutch if Sherlock didn't get out immediately.
The day passed like a heavy delirium, and in the evening Sherlock phoned Mycroft. What the hell is pride when it comes to John?!
Mycroft gave Sherlock a job in the morning to keep him from going crazy with idleness, but to Sherlock's dismay, his brother did not find any traces during the whole night of searching. John has disappeared. And Mycroft wasn't lying. Sherlock knew his brother well enough to notice his agitation and confusion, no matter how he concealed his feelings.
Sherlock survived on this third day only thanks to work. The riddles were enticing, but there was no taste or passion in them — Sherlock realized this as soon as he started the business. Yes, he was married at work. But today it turned out that the work managed to marry John, and it doesn’t need Sherlock without its husband.
Sherlock successfully solved the case without answering questions about why John wasn't with him and bought the drug. Anesthesia was required to get through another night without John. But Sherlock flushed the syringe down the toilet along with its contents. He didn't want John to see him baked when he got back. Sherlock was afraid that John would then get angry again and leave.
But John did not return. And Mycroft still couldn't find him.
And at the end of this unbearable day, Sarah phoned.
"What did you do with John if he sent a letter of compensatory holidays and dismissal by mail? He didn't come to say goodbye, he only wrote that everything was fine with him and he apologized for the sudden disappearance, but he would stay in the shadows so that you could not find him!"
Sherlock responded with something vague, cut off the connection with her and hacked into John's bank website. All his money was there. What is he going to live on then? You can open a new account in half an hour, but where does John get the money for this and the legal ones?
Lestrade, Sally, Harry, Anderson, Mike, Angelo and even Clara phone him after Sarah. And Mrs. Hudson by herself explained to Sherlock what an idiot he was, and was not too lazy to go up to his apartment.
Despite the late evening, Sherlock rushed to Chris Rice. John sent him the borrowed things and money in the mail. Sherlock questioned the post office workers. And again a dead end. The parcel was delivered by a courier. Sherlock found him too, but the guy didn't remember who gave him the package, a man or a woman, there were too many orders. And the guy accepted some without registration, put the entire fee in his wallet, and even more so did not want to remember the clients. Money failed to evoke memories, the guy only said that he was called to the mall, where there were a lot of people. And he was not afraid of the threat to hand him over to his superiors: there are a lot of delivery services, and a courier is not a position that is difficult to get a job.
John threw letters for everyone else into a post box at Victoria Station. This thread is also cut off.
Sherlock hacked into the Department for Transport server: a person cannot live without a driver's license, which means John must restore them. But there was nothing.
Only Mycroft phoned and mocked that Sherlock left traces — Mycroft's minions followed the issuance of rights. They also monitored bank cards — as far as possible in principle. But nowhere was a card in the name of John H. Watson lit up. More precisely, among all the people who were noticed, having the name John H. Watson, there was not that same John.
"John didn't cross the border", Mycroft added. "But you know, to leave the island of Great Britain, it is unnecessary to use a plane, a tunnel or buy a ticket for a ferry to Ireland. Nobody has a ban on sailing on their own yacht wherever they want and to take friends with them. And any cheap trough is called a yacht if it is an inch larger than the boat."
The thought that John had gone to sign up for the French Foreign Legion made Sherlock shudder.
"Brother," Mycroft said, "this is a good time to think about how stupid it is to waste attention on a person who is... um... so far from being a genius."
"John is much closer to being a genius than you are to being able to think!" Sherlock snarled and threw the phone against the wall. And a moment later he crouched on the couch, howling desperately, like a wounded animal.
