The White Lily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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fan_flashworks2016-08-10 03:40 pm
thewhitelily) wrote in fan_flashworks2016-08-10 03:40 pm
Entry tags:
BBC Sherlock: Fanfic: The Reichenbach Ball
Title: The Reichenbach Ball
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating: G
Length: 221B
Content Notes: Reichenbach angst, episode related.
Summary: Sherlock finds himself playing with a squash ball while he waits for the end.
Ba-bounce, catch.
Ba-bounce, catch.
“Got your message,” said John, in the doorway.
Ba-bounce, catch.
Sherlock held onto the squash ball this time, squeezing it hard enough to turn his knuckles white as he talked, manic with fear and urgency. Only one more piece he needed to get in place before he could allow the ball to drop, before he had to… fall.
He needed the code. He couldn’t face Moriarty entirely empty-handed to beg for his friends’ lives, the man would never—
But John remained even now, Sherlock's conductor of light, the slight motion of his fingers mirroring Sherlock’s own unconscious movement, bringing forth the understanding he needed.
Sherlock glanced at John as he typed an invitation to discuss his terms of surrender, wishing… no, it was necessary. He pressed send, and slumped back down against the bench, contemplating the cupboard across from him.
Ba-bounce, catch.
Nothing to do now but wait; they were all of them objects set in motion, travelling along an unalterable trajectory, approaching the collision.
But the inevitable wasn’t important, was it? When the giant hand had closed around you, squeezing, hurling you towards the ground… there was no point in trying to prevent your fall.
Ba-bounce, catch.
The only thing to do was hope you could bounce… and trust that someone remained to catch you.
Ba-bounce—
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating: G
Length: 221B
Content Notes: Reichenbach angst, episode related.
Summary: Sherlock finds himself playing with a squash ball while he waits for the end.
Ba-bounce, catch.
Ba-bounce, catch.
“Got your message,” said John, in the doorway.
Ba-bounce, catch.
Sherlock held onto the squash ball this time, squeezing it hard enough to turn his knuckles white as he talked, manic with fear and urgency. Only one more piece he needed to get in place before he could allow the ball to drop, before he had to… fall.
He needed the code. He couldn’t face Moriarty entirely empty-handed to beg for his friends’ lives, the man would never—
But John remained even now, Sherlock's conductor of light, the slight motion of his fingers mirroring Sherlock’s own unconscious movement, bringing forth the understanding he needed.
Sherlock glanced at John as he typed an invitation to discuss his terms of surrender, wishing… no, it was necessary. He pressed send, and slumped back down against the bench, contemplating the cupboard across from him.
Ba-bounce, catch.
Nothing to do now but wait; they were all of them objects set in motion, travelling along an unalterable trajectory, approaching the collision.
But the inevitable wasn’t important, was it? When the giant hand had closed around you, squeezing, hurling you towards the ground… there was no point in trying to prevent your fall.
Ba-bounce, catch.
The only thing to do was hope you could bounce… and trust that someone remained to catch you.
Ba-bounce—
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