Hello there fellow Sherlock obsessors. This came to me yesterday (halfway through writing a practice essay for my upcoming exam- oops) and I needed to let it out.

Along with this- OMFG Benedict Cumberbatch is far too sexy for his clothes and I can't believe he was Paul Marshall in Atonement how could he do that to me? And Mark Gatiss is the god of gay subtext (thank you higher power for delivering him unto us grateful fangirls)
All right, I'm done :)

Please comment if you liked it and tell me why, I'm always eager to improve my writing ^^ Enjoy!


Silky black locks swayed gently in the chilly breeze of a London morning. Scarf secured tightly around his alabaster white neck, Sherlock Holmes hailed a cab from the still-damp sidewalk. A quick instruction for St. Bart's had the wheels of the vehicle pulling away from the curb and onto the bustling streets of the famous capital. Sherlock's mind whirred with all the detours the cabbie could have taken to get him there quicker, his lips pulled into a thin line at how many minutes had been wasted at broken traffic lights and bright red stop signs.

Money crinkled as Sherlock paid his fare and stepped out of the car and into the overshadow of St. Bartholomew's Hospital. A policeman standing on the corner of the street eyed him suspiciously but said nothing and simply nodded at Sherlock, as if he knew why he was here. Sherlock ignored him and turned his pale blue glare to the stairs he was walking up, as if they had offended him in some way.

Molly greeted him at the Entrance Hall, asking if he would 'like to see him?' outstandingly oblivious to the fact that she had put on too much makeup in an attempt for Sherlock to notice her and not the 'blundering oaf' he had seen her mouthing to the receptionist almost a week ago. Sherlock wondered how his feelings towards John were so evident to others and yet he, the genius consulting detective, had taken the better part of a month to figure it out. 'Too late' he thought morosely to himself.

Nodding at Molly, he followed her downstairs to a room he had many times before felt comfortable in. It held no love for him now and neither did he for it. Molly rolled out the plastic black body bag into the middle of the room and then stood silently, waiting for Sherlock to say something. Sherlock tempered his voice and came out with a 'please leave', unsuccessfully hiding his emotions. Molly glanced back at the still unopened bag and then obediently walked out of the room.

Slow determined steps brought Sherlock closer to the bag. A trembling hand reached for the zipper gathering up the courage to 'just pull it down for god sakes, it's just another body!'.

'But this time it isn't' his mind helpfully supplied. As he pulled the zipper down to the chest and opened up the black covering, his lungs let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Death-white skin wrinkled from too many smiles lay frozen against the defined cheeks of his face. Dirty blond hair flecked with grey highlights fanned out across the medical fabric of the bag.

Sherlock stared intently at the face, peaceful even with the 3mm radius hole in the centre of the forehead, allowing him a look at the scarlet red intelligence of the corpse in front of him. Sherlock's fingers touched the dull pink lips and made their way down to sweep over the mottled scar, curtesy of an Afghani sniper rifle, and down to his chest over the dead man's heart, tracing the post-mortem symbol inked into the chalky white torso.

M


If you're wondering, yes I intended the corpse to be John Watson. I wouldn't put it past Moriarty to rob Sherlock of his beloved pet -sniffle-
I have nothing against John, frankly he's adorable and should break up with Sarah coz she's getting in the way of his and Sherlock's 'bromance' (I believe is the correct term)
Wow, it's so short for three pages worth of handwriting...
So yes, leave a comment please, I won't hunt you down if you don't, promise ;)
Lots of love, Mira