Aware of their fictional state, Sherlock and John discuss the current state of things.
First time fic in the Sherlock fandom, first fic finished overall. Hate it or love it, I want to hear it all.
Edit: No idea how it happened, but a line got cut out when I uploaded it. Most peculiar. Oh well. I needed to fix some word choices anyway. Should be good now.
Behind the scenes
"Have you seen this, Sherlock?" a short man with a gentle, but stubborn set to his eyes, John Watson calls to his companion of oh, so many years.
"Seen what?" Sherlock asks. As always, tall, dark and brooding.
"They're writing about us again."
"Oh, that. Yes, I thought it might be something like that. I look younger."
John smiles. "I know it's not like we were ever completely out of print, but... "
"But this is quite different. I know."
"It's just... It's... New. "
"New, dizzying, exhilarating, bizarre, refreshing, all of that, yes. We have been stagnant for so long. We're being read again, John!"
"Wouldn't have thought you'd care about that aspect?"
"Don't be silly John, of course I care. Anything that gives me cases."
John chuckles wryly. Sherlock can practically read the implied even if they come from Mycroft? behind it. He's already decided not to dignify it with a response.
"Of course. Silly me..."
They both take a second to ponder the state of things, Sherlock's finger itching to play with a pipe he no longer has. Except he does, of course. He has become, been so many men of late. He knows he will, essentially, always be the same. There is something new brewing on the horizon, however. Well, new, he thought. That was always a matter of perspective. Perspective, culture... What might or might not have been at the start was building itself up to a loud and clearly stated "Why, yes, of course, when you put it that way..."
It isn't surprising. Any deduction about them, any sound deduction with no prejudiced attached, could have predicted this developement. And they are, in their nature, slaves to the written word.
Sherlock looks at John. Takes in the grin growing on his weathered face, and the soft fondness behind it.
It was all quite simple, really.
John gives off a strangled choking noise as he sees something he didn't expect. Not from the more official sources anyway. Silly John indeed.
"They made me a woman?"
"Really John, your sex is of no consequence to me."
"Maybe not to you... You're not the one who is going to have to handle period cramps."
"If it's any consolation, the fandom has done the same to me on numerous occasions."
"Well, if we're talking about the fanfiction, I'll have you know the keep making me pregnant."
Sherlock had missed that one. How could he have missed that one? He blinks once. Twice.
"Pregnant?"
"Yes, Sherlock. Pregnant."
Sherlock finds his gaze drawn to John's abs.
"Well, clearly they need biology lessons."
John looks curious now. Not about the biology, obviously, incompetent 17 year old's wouldn't be enough to give John pause. No, this was something Sherlock had said.
"Sherlock. How did you... Well. Ok, I'll just come right out and say it. Is this another solar system scenario, because.. No matter how you look at it, this is relevant to our present situation, and for you to choose to remain ignorant about any of this, no matter how strange and bizarre, perhaps especially because it might be, is simply... It's... "
"Generic."
"What?"
"I set my search results to generic, alright?"
"But... why?"
"They're hormonal girls, John!"
"Yes, and?" John is clearly nonplussed.
"and..." he fumbles. He knows how ridiculous this is going to sound. And John is right, his lack of curiosity is... out of character.
"I'm not sure my mind palace could survive it", he finishes weakly.
Then he glares at John, daring him to laugh. John, of course, does so anyway, a short, disbelieving sound.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"So you're saying... Oh."
Did he understand? Sherlock isn't sure he would have deduced it himself, but John could be surprising sometimes.
"You don't want to read us have.. well. Sex." John blushed. It was fascinating.
"Not quite." his tone short. John had been close. Very close. But not...
"So I'm wrong, then." John looks as though he's deflating, and Sherlock would almost take it as relief, if it weren't for the traces of disappointment in is tone.
A spark of realisation hits him, then. Of course. John would have changed, too. He hadn't wanted to torture himself with what couldn't be, that's why he had avoided those stories, but... he frowns at how slow, almost dim he's seemed to become, and contributes it, yet again, to the ministrations of amateur female fingers pressing computer keys.
Normally, he would be more irked at the loss of speed his thoughts were usually privy to, but then, he knew the cases would always be solved. If he could have this, perhaps it would be an even trade-off... Again, he was certain this was the result of those same women, but at the moment he didn't really care. He probably would, later. Not now, though. Not if everything went as it should.
"I didn't say that."
John perked up. It was barely detectable, but it was there. It was all he needed.
The kiss was abrupt and off-center, but it had happened and when John reciprocated, he knew there was no turning back. Grinning with his lips against John's mouth, they let the fandom have its way.