donutsweeper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
donutsweeper) wrote2011-08-04 11:08 pm
donutsweeper) wrote2011-08-04 11:08 pm
Debating With Oneself
Title: Debating With Oneself
Fandom/Warning/Rating: Sherlock BBC, none, rated G
Word Count: 405
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_medley_
Summary: Mycroft keeps Sherlock from assuming the worst.
Author's Note: Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
watsons_woes amnesty prompts wherein 10 fics are written for 10 prompts and all are part of the same story arc. This is the sixth story, for the prompt "Pivotal plot point, aka The Road Less Traveled."
John was not expected to live.
That was the last thing the doctor said to Sherlock before whisking John away. The first was to ask if there was someone they should call and the second was the suggestion Sherlock sit down before he fell down and they had another patient on their hands.
Suddenly Mycroft was there, pressing Sherlock into a chair, hand warm and firm upon his shoulder. "Sit," he ordered.
Feeling the need to explain, Sherlock said, "John might die."
"He also might live."
Mycroft simply didn't understand. Taking a deep breath, Sherlock thought back on that day John walked into the lab at Barts, presenting himself as nothing more than a quiet, unassuming army doctor. The dichotomy of soldier and healer had interested Sherlock, but even he had not foreseen the sort of man John truly was nor how interwoven their lives would become.
If only he hadn't spoken to Mike that day, or left the lab earlier, then they never would have met and John would not be dying in surgery and Sherlock would not be sitting in a waiting room fighting against emotions he hated to feel. John would have lived his life in safety. He'd have a job, perhaps even a girlfriend. Bored senseless most likely, but alive. And Sherlock would not have a John-shaped hole in his life. If only that had been the case, it would have been so much better for both of them.
Sherlock shook his head trying to clear it.
"Do not think such things, Sherlock. He is a better man for knowing you and as much as it pains me to admit, you are a better man for knowing him."
"You mean was."
"Have you ever known me to speak imprecisely? John is still alive and the doctors are doing what they can to keep him that way. Do not sell the man short, Sherlock, he survived cohabitating with you, I believe he will survive this." And with a last clap of Sherlock's shoulder Mycroft turned to walk away, pausing after he'd gone a few steps. "Now I must be off. Much to my frustration, I suddenly find myself in need of a new umbrella."
"How remiss of you. I'm amazed you are able to function without one," Sherlock said, dryly, a smile almost teasing his face.
"Yes, indeed." Mycroft nodded his goodbye and left Sherlock sitting by himself and waiting for word.
The story continues in Awaiting Word. The masterpost to this entire verse can be found here.
Fandom/Warning/Rating: Sherlock BBC, none, rated G
Word Count: 405
Beta:
_medley_Summary: Mycroft keeps Sherlock from assuming the worst.
Author's Note: Written for the
watsons_woes amnesty prompts wherein 10 fics are written for 10 prompts and all are part of the same story arc. This is the sixth story, for the prompt "Pivotal plot point, aka The Road Less Traveled."John was not expected to live.
That was the last thing the doctor said to Sherlock before whisking John away. The first was to ask if there was someone they should call and the second was the suggestion Sherlock sit down before he fell down and they had another patient on their hands.
Suddenly Mycroft was there, pressing Sherlock into a chair, hand warm and firm upon his shoulder. "Sit," he ordered.
Feeling the need to explain, Sherlock said, "John might die."
"He also might live."
Mycroft simply didn't understand. Taking a deep breath, Sherlock thought back on that day John walked into the lab at Barts, presenting himself as nothing more than a quiet, unassuming army doctor. The dichotomy of soldier and healer had interested Sherlock, but even he had not foreseen the sort of man John truly was nor how interwoven their lives would become.
If only he hadn't spoken to Mike that day, or left the lab earlier, then they never would have met and John would not be dying in surgery and Sherlock would not be sitting in a waiting room fighting against emotions he hated to feel. John would have lived his life in safety. He'd have a job, perhaps even a girlfriend. Bored senseless most likely, but alive. And Sherlock would not have a John-shaped hole in his life. If only that had been the case, it would have been so much better for both of them.
Sherlock shook his head trying to clear it.
"Do not think such things, Sherlock. He is a better man for knowing you and as much as it pains me to admit, you are a better man for knowing him."
"You mean was."
"Have you ever known me to speak imprecisely? John is still alive and the doctors are doing what they can to keep him that way. Do not sell the man short, Sherlock, he survived cohabitating with you, I believe he will survive this." And with a last clap of Sherlock's shoulder Mycroft turned to walk away, pausing after he'd gone a few steps. "Now I must be off. Much to my frustration, I suddenly find myself in need of a new umbrella."
"How remiss of you. I'm amazed you are able to function without one," Sherlock said, dryly, a smile almost teasing his face.
"Yes, indeed." Mycroft nodded his goodbye and left Sherlock sitting by himself and waiting for word.
The story continues in Awaiting Word. The masterpost to this entire verse can be found here.