Sons of the Sea

Ficlet John/Sherlock

Sherlock, as he was prone to do after a case was over, was playing Mozart on his violin.  He wasn’t doing it on purpose, he wasn’t even really listening to it, it was sound at the moment, and that was saying something as he usually quite enjoyed Mozart’s works.  But, he wasn’t playing for himself either.  He often did this when John came home beaten down and worn out from a shift at work, or when he was particularly pleased with the other man.

This instance had nothing to do with him being pleased.  He was far from it, in fact.  The hospital job wore John down to his last nerve, and while provoking that could be fascinating, it was wearing on John’s health and that simply wouldn’t do.  So he lulled his friend to sleep with the pianissimo violin and left the mute on to keep the violin’s tone warm and soft.  It was a fact that the violin was so popular because it mimicked the human voice, and with the mute on the bridge, this only served to broaden the melody and took the piercing sounds out of the tune.

John had long ago fallen asleep, but Sherlock didn’t stop playing.  He played until the ache in his fingers was bad enough that it actually snapped him out of his reverie.  With a flourish he finished the movement and tucked the violin under his arm to turn and look down on John like the dubiously benevolent god he was.  The smaller man was curled on the couch, his tea half-consumed, his dress-shirt rumpled, shoes still on.  The corner of Sherlock’s mouth drew upward as he noticed his blogger was drooling.  That was a good sign.  Saliva meant a sleep so deep that nightmares rarely bothered to disturb John’s slumber. 

This was one of his favorite activities: watching John sleep.  The good doctor had caught him at it a number of times, but after the initial shock of waking up with Sherlock Holmes looming over you like the pale specter of death itself…well…it was obvious that his clever companion had figured out that Sherlock was unlikely to stop doing it, so he gave up arguing.  He had to force himself to move, putting away his violin and bow so he could turn and sit at his desk chair and watch the other man sleep easier.

It wasn’t for the reasons John thought he did it.  He didn’t do it to creep John out, or to scare him, nor even as an experiment.  It was simply the awe of a surprised genius that brought Sherlock back again and again; the shock that he was no longer alone.  That John knew much of the worst things about him and hadn’t fled.

Sherlock Holmes finally had a friend.

An opportunity to actually help some kids in need!

undefectivedetective:

http://www.gettingtoghana.blogspot.com/

My sister is in Ghana, Africa working with orphans.  

They need your help.  They need money for food/medical supplies/water and are trying to build up enough money to buy propane for the oven they bought so they can make bread and sell it and make money for themselves!

But as of today, the children are out of beans.

They’re asking my sister to buy them beans.

I’m asking you to read her blog, and if you’re moved, give something…ANYTHING.  The money goes so far over there, and it goes RIGHT to my sister, and RIGHT to the kids.

If you have any questions about how legit this is PLEASE contact me.  I assure you it is.

5 dollars is a cup of coffee at a fancy coffee shop.  For these children, that’s antibiotics for a WEEK.

You can help!

Please reblog!

Jayne and I thank you.

Early Life Continued and College

undefectivedetective:

Most of the rest of Sherlock’s young life was rife with abuse and struggle.  Siger’s verbal insults turned physical, and this was and would remain the point of contention between Mycroft and Sherlock.  The middle Holmes brother returned home for Christmas holiday and noticed the bruises.  Sherlock, confronted with the evidence he’d been working so hard to hide, begged his big brother to tell their mother and defend him to their father.

Mycroft, afraid for the boy and himself, said nothing and left to go back to school the next day.

Sherlock was devastated.

 

Siger Holmes left his wife and family when Sherlock was 14 after an alcoholic binge and a verbal fight with the teenager (who by this point had learned to argue and never to let anything go).  He beat Sherlock nearly to death, and there was no way to hide it or pretend it wasn’t happening anymore.  In a fit of rage befitting of Sherlockian legend Violet Holmes threw all of Siger’s belongings out into the rain and told him never to return to the house.

The woman fell into a depression soon after the youngest Holmes was recovered, and Sherlock was left to care for her as best he could.

Sherlock escaped his family home at the age of 17 when he attended the University of Oxford and Mycroft paid to have Violet retire to France with her family.  It was at Uni he found once again that he was hardly suited for living or socializing with those his own age.  He spent much of his time thinking or working on experiments alone in his dorm room, but it was here he met his first boyfriend, Victor Trevor, quite by accident.  The other boy (two years his senior) was out walking his dog and the terrier pulled his leash free of Victor’s hand in order to chase down and bite Sherlock’s ankle rather viciously.

Sherlock spend the next week laid up with his healing ankle, and Victor came by to check up on him, much to the budding detective’s surprise.  The older boy was everything that Sherlock wasn’t.  He was very outspoken and outgoing and very physically affectionate.  He showed Sherlock a love and attention that he certainly wasn’t used to, nor did he know how to react.  But eventually their friendship was solidified, and in the winter of Sherlock’s freshman year, it turned into something more than friendship.

They dated for a year until Victor decided it was time to take Sherlock to meet his parents.  The dinner was horribly awkward, and Victor’s parents treated Sherlock coolly and Sherlock tried his best not to deduce them both into a hole in the ground.  They were obviously homophobic, and also very protective of their perfect son.  The boys left that night with Victor Trevor Sr.’s warning ringing as an affirmation of Sherlock’s deductions in his ears.  “My son’s not a fag.  Back off.”

It was a week before the young man gained the courage to tell Victor what his father had told him.  The reaction he got was not ideal.  Victor said he believed him, but it was fairly obvious to the keen eyed detective that he didn’t, and the two drifted apart.

It was around this time that the drug abuse began, and the reasons for it are with the aforementioned knowledge perhaps seen as not only a way for Sherlock to escape the confines of his own mind, but those of his heart as well.

Early life.

I wrote this for my RP account for the BBC Sherlock.

undefectivedetective:

William Sherlock Scott Holmes wasn’t meant to be born.  A bit of a mistake, really.  Violet Sherringford, a French actress who’d made her home in London with her husband Siger Holmes, had made the decision to keep the boy, as Mycroft was nearly eight and Sherringford was ten and she wanted to be a mother again.  Siger Holmes was a military man, and finding himself restless, packed up his three young sons, and his wife and they set out to stay with Violet’s French cousins.

Sherlock was raised in France until the age of four, when Siger decided it was time to move his young family back to England, but not before a two year tour of Europe.

When they returned to England, Siger sent Mycroft and Sherringford to a boarding school.  He would have sent Sherlock as well, but the boy’s mother insisted he stay with them because of his young age.  That was perhaps a mistake.

Siger Holmes was a no-nonsense sort of man.  He didn’t abide things like imagination, and insisted that Sherlock get private tutoring by some of the best minds in London, intending to mathematics him into an Engineering career.  The boy, being only six and having been pulled from his cousins and the only family he’d ever known…the only children his own age who’d ever accepted him, was shy and withdrawn, traits which he’d gotten away with in France, and on the road, but not at home.  The boy was exceedingly bright and curious, but had little interest in studying.

He caught on to everything very quickly and soon lost patience with his tutors and would play tricks on them (as little boys do) and he learned very quickly that his boredom was to be met with swift and terrible retribution

Sherlock’s father never understood how a person (even a boy as young as six) could possibly be bored with studying, especially when he and his wife payed for him to have an education.  That was when the verbal abuse started.  Terrified of being a disappointment, the boy slowly began to give up on things like being a child.  He began to hone his skills with a single minded focus, hoping that his father would see him as worthwhile.

For a year, he worked on honing his mind, and it was at the age of seven and a half, that his father came home with an ill concealed smear of lipstick on his shirt collar.  A shade that Violet Holmes never wore.  The boy made the mistake of pointing it out, and it was then he first heard the word ‘Freak’…

((RPer’s note: More to come if you want it.  Feel free to ask questions, even Anon ones in my ask if something didn’t make sense, or you’d like to know more about a certain aspect of his life.))

1. wake up
2. bitch someone out on facebook
3. go to work
4. Christmas dinner with Hojo’s fam
5. ??? (Probably entailing some sort of video game)

and though I haven’t gotten out of BED yet, I feel fairly accomplished for doing the second one. XD

sashaforthewin asked: I LOVE YOUR FACE.

I…thank you? XD <3

HI GUYS! Long time no see. XD