Если бы сегодня я умер.

среда, 01 августа 2012

15:52

Ianthinus

В жизни все не так просто, как кажется, нет. Все ещё проще. // Счастливое число //

Molto bebe. Allons-y!
Просто иначе я сойду с ума.
хочувотпускхочувотпускхочувотпуск :sleepy:

Johnlock Drabble: Just As Good AsIt was rough.
Neither man ever thought it would be easy. The work they did. The cases. The constant worry each man faced when they were out there, in the dark, pounding the pavement in pursuit of the truth and apprehension of those who broke the law.
They did what the police couldn’t, and sometimes wouldn’t, do.
Yes, it was exciting. Thrilling. Gave them a rush.
But they weren’t just Sherlock and John anymore.
They were Sherlock, John, and the kids. Three kids who still needed their fathers. Who still depended on them every day, and would continue to do so for a very long time.
They were lucky this time. The robber’s handgun misfired. Blew his own hand off rather than a hole through John’s head. Through Sherlock’s chest. And in the aftermath, waiting for Lestrade and his Yarders to arrive on scene, neither man would speak. Not of this. Not yet. It had come too close.
But in the confines of their home. Within the walls of 221, they were subdued rather than celebratory. Their children were with their grandparents. Sleeping peacefully in Wiltshire, unawares of how close they had been to becoming orphans.
Then finally, the weighty silence was broken. John turned from the window, looking to his husband. “Sherlock?” he said, his voice just as low and heavy as his thoughts felt. He waited for the head topped with dark curls to turn and look up at him before he voiced his worry. “What would you do if I died today?”
It wasn’t the first time they’d had this discussion. And he knew it wouldn’t be the last. But right now, it was necessary. They had nearly lost one another. This time for real. And if the detective’s false death had nearly killed them both… John didn’t want to think what would happen… But he had to.
Sherlock looked quickly away, back to the journal in which he scribbled down his post case notes for John to work up later into a blog post. “I’d die tomorrow,” he said calmly, in the same tone one might point out that rain was falling and the sky was overcast.
John knew, after all this time, that he need not ask if he meant it. Knew not to ask for him to clarify. Literal or figurative. Because he knew the answer before he had even asked it. The same answer he always received. If John were to die today, no Sherlock would not die tomorrow. Only the warmth in his small smiles would leave him. The passion that John had brought out in him would fade.
No, Sherlock would still be there, breathing and going through the motions of living. And though lacking any sense of maternal instinct, he would not leave their children orphans.
But they would be just as good as.

©

@темы: картинкофлуд, Sherlock BBC, впечатления, на злобу дня, johnsherlocked, (ц)итаты и (с)сылки, из закромов, ассоциативное