Day 10: BBC Sherlock: Gen
Dec. 10th, 2022 08:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stonepicnicking_okapi posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
adventdrabblesTitle: Four Calling Birds
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating: Gen
Notes: Genderswapped Johnlock. Sherlock is a vampire. John is human.
Summary: John has a cold.
John lifted the tea bag by the string and bounced it up and down in the mug of hot water. It wasn’t even proper tea. It was something medicinal, something with the name ‘soothing’ in it. It might be ‘soothing,’ but John couldn’t tell.
“I could help,” said a voice somewhere.
John had swathed herself in a knitted blanket or maybe it was an oversized cardigan. She was doing her best imitation of a miserable puppeteer, with her soothing tea bag as puppet.
Up, down. Up, down.
“High on the hill sat a lonely goatherd,” she sang under her breath.
“I could help,” said the same voice.
“It’s just a cold,” answered John. “I do have a functioning immune system. I might as well let it do some work now and then.”
A voice inside John, not the one talking to her, a different one, but one that was on the former’s side, argued,
What is the point of have a girlfriend with supernatural healing powers if you don’t take advantage of them once in a while?
John did take advantage of Sherlock’s vampiric abilities, but for some reason, she was loath to do so this time.
“I’ll be fine.”
She took a sip of tea. Then another. Then another.
It was just a cold.
John set the mug on the coffee table and fell sideways onto the sofa and closed her eyes.
---
John was walking through a forest.
She knew it was a dream, but that didn’t deter her, noting the patterns and textures around here.
She observed a single leaf, then saw the same shape much larger as the light penetrated the loose knitted veil of branches. There was the dark grey-brown of a streambed and the same dark grey-brown in a tree’s bark and the ripples of water and the ripples of wood seemed to mimic each other, too, a natural call and response.
And then there was a flash of yellow. And another. And a third. And a fourth.
Four blackbirds in a tree.
They looked at John and opened their beaks.
At first, it was just melody, just birdsong, but as the tune went on, John understood.
…coming, going…
…traveling, traveling…
…this world, the others…
…knowing, knowing…
John stood beneath the tree, listening to the blackbirds calling.
Four calling birds.
John seemed to hear, or intuit, instructions. She trudged to the streambed and crouched there. She pulled off her gloves and let them fall by her boots. She bent as low as she dared and cupped the frigid flowing water in her hands.
She brought the water to her face, rinsing herself over and over.
…misery…hates…company…
…some are not like others…
…knowing, knowing…
…coming, going…
---
John woke on the sofa.
She inhaled, breathing easily. She sat up and breathed again.
Nothing ached.
She pulled the knitted hood from her head. The back of her neck and her crown were damp with sweat.
“You couldn’t resist, could you?”
“I hate to see you suffer.”
“Thank you.”
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating: Gen
Notes: Genderswapped Johnlock. Sherlock is a vampire. John is human.
Summary: John has a cold.
John lifted the tea bag by the string and bounced it up and down in the mug of hot water. It wasn’t even proper tea. It was something medicinal, something with the name ‘soothing’ in it. It might be ‘soothing,’ but John couldn’t tell.
“I could help,” said a voice somewhere.
John had swathed herself in a knitted blanket or maybe it was an oversized cardigan. She was doing her best imitation of a miserable puppeteer, with her soothing tea bag as puppet.
Up, down. Up, down.
“High on the hill sat a lonely goatherd,” she sang under her breath.
“I could help,” said the same voice.
“It’s just a cold,” answered John. “I do have a functioning immune system. I might as well let it do some work now and then.”
A voice inside John, not the one talking to her, a different one, but one that was on the former’s side, argued,
What is the point of have a girlfriend with supernatural healing powers if you don’t take advantage of them once in a while?
John did take advantage of Sherlock’s vampiric abilities, but for some reason, she was loath to do so this time.
“I’ll be fine.”
She took a sip of tea. Then another. Then another.
It was just a cold.
John set the mug on the coffee table and fell sideways onto the sofa and closed her eyes.
---
John was walking through a forest.
She knew it was a dream, but that didn’t deter her, noting the patterns and textures around here.
She observed a single leaf, then saw the same shape much larger as the light penetrated the loose knitted veil of branches. There was the dark grey-brown of a streambed and the same dark grey-brown in a tree’s bark and the ripples of water and the ripples of wood seemed to mimic each other, too, a natural call and response.
And then there was a flash of yellow. And another. And a third. And a fourth.
Four blackbirds in a tree.
They looked at John and opened their beaks.
At first, it was just melody, just birdsong, but as the tune went on, John understood.
…coming, going…
…traveling, traveling…
…this world, the others…
…knowing, knowing…
John stood beneath the tree, listening to the blackbirds calling.
Four calling birds.
John seemed to hear, or intuit, instructions. She trudged to the streambed and crouched there. She pulled off her gloves and let them fall by her boots. She bent as low as she dared and cupped the frigid flowing water in her hands.
She brought the water to her face, rinsing herself over and over.
…misery…hates…company…
…some are not like others…
…knowing, knowing…
…coming, going…
---
John woke on the sofa.
She inhaled, breathing easily. She sat up and breathed again.
Nothing ached.
She pulled the knitted hood from her head. The back of her neck and her crown were damp with sweat.
“You couldn’t resist, could you?”
“I hate to see you suffer.”
“Thank you.”
