My fanfiction and other random ramblings

Srebrna, Skald Arkadii (and thoughts on writing)

Archive for February 2019

Be patient with your patient

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“Somebody left here in a hurry three days ago.”

John was still fuming inside, so he clenched his teeth and tried not to react too explosively.

“Somebody?”

“Soo Lin Yao,” Sherlock gasped, his voice breaking. “We have to find her.”

The vowels sounded as if he was getting a nasty throat infection, but John ignored the painful sound for the moment.

“How, exactly?”

Of course, for some people the clues would just lie on the street. Like an envelope marked with the name of the museum – and used as a letter, apparently.

“We could start with dis,” Sherlock suggested, choking.

“OK, now I’m worried,” John stopped the detective before he could walk away. “Come here, let me check your throat. You sound very weird.”

“No way you’re chec…” Sherlock coughed, “anything, in the middle of the street! We have a case!”

“And you have…” John pulled on the blue scarf, uncovering a ring of quickly darkening bruises around Sherlock’s neck. “Dear God! What happened in there? Was there…” he glanced up and then back at the flat. “Someone was inside, am I right?”

“None of your…”

“Am I right?”

“You don’t…”

He reached up, placing one hand on the side of Sherlock’s jaw and the taller man shuddered at the touch. John willed himself to speak slowly and cautiously.

“Sherlock, was there someone in the flat with you? Did they attack you?”

The detective squeezed his eyes shut and squirmed. It wasn’t a confirmation, but it was… close enough.

“Fuck. All that time I was standing here like an ass and someone inside was trying to…”

“Strangle me,” Sherlock coughed. “With a shirt – or a sheet, not sure. Wasn’t paying attention.”

John pulled the collar of the Belstaff aside and slowly checked the bruised area with his fingertips. The ugly contrast between the broken capillaries and the milky white alabaster of the skin around them was… rather jarring.

“Swallow,” he ordered harshly. “Any blockages?”

“No,” came a croaky response.

“Normally…” John sighed. “Normally the treatment of strangulation injuries would begin with a visit to psychiatric ward,” he paused, “as most cases are the outcome of suicide attempts. We can safely eliminate this aspect. You will have very vivid bruising – the scarf will have to stay on for several weeks – and then there are the internal injuries…”

He frowned and tried to recall the specifics. No. He needed a reference for this.

“Home,” he said decisively. “Now.”

He stepped towards the street and looked around, keeping a tight hold on the black wool sleeve.

“But, John…”

“Shut up before you do yourself more damage.”

And a miracle happened.

A cab stopped. Right in front of them.

“Where to, friends?”

The ride was quiet – Sherlock was obviously tired of trying to argue with John and John trying to remember as much as he could of potential damage.

“First, a cold pack. Good thing I always keep a few in the freezer… Naproxen will be the best here… And we’ll have to check your reflexes.”

He saw Sherlock’s widened eyes alighting on him, but shook his head. There was no reason to frighten his friend more.

 

#

 

In the living room, he busied himself with finding the painkiller and the cold compresses which, wrapped in a kitchen towel, went around the neck.

“The cold will help to manage the bruising, too,” he added as he handed Sherlock a pill and a glass of water. “Now take this and sit with your lovely ice collar, just like that. Tell me if you feel faint or have trouble swallowing. I need to check something.”

He took a few breaths and watched as Sherlock took the painkiller and managed to wash it down without visible signs of distress while John dug for the relevant textbook.

“Now… I’m just repeating this out loud for my own sake, so let me just go through the checklist. You don’t have any cuts around your neck, one thing I don’t have to worry about. The surface bruising we’ll manage with arnica gel,” he pulled out a small tube. “Voice box and windpipe – you can talk and you can swallow, so this should be fine. Main arteries in the neck…”

His hands shook as he carefully touched his friend’s bruised skin.

“Didn’t have time,” Sherlock croaked. “Didn’t press enough.”

“And you aren’t feeling faint? Woozy? Nauseous?”

“None,” Sherlock sighed. “Can we go to the museum now? Because, seriously…”

“Close your eyes, put your hands to the sides,” John ordered calmly, overriding the pained rasping. “Now. And touch your nose with your left index finger.”

There was a moment of silence as Sherlock almost poked out his eye as a result of that little test and the detective looked in surprise at his own digit.

“I can’t go to the hospital,” he said slowly, trying to straighten himself. “I gave to…”

“Sherlock,” John picked up his friend’s hands from where he was picking at the cold compress with shaky movements. “This is not something you can ignore. You were being strangled. We don’t know what kind of effects that had. We could be…” he swallowed. “We could be looking at brain injury.”

Pale eyes widened as Sherlock’s hands tightened on John’s fingers.

“I feel fine,” the raspy baritone wavered for a moment. “I’m not… I’m OK, I’m not… Brain damaged!”

“I will be with you every step of the way,” John assured him. “But you must have this looked at. Ultrasonogram is the least… Sherlock, there are studies, death can happen up to two days after initial injury. You have to get this diagnosed.”

“You do it,” the pale detective demanded. “Diagnose.”

“How?! I don’t even have the needed machinery! Now, please. I’m not going to call for an ambulance, but I need you to leave this coldpack in place and come with me to the cab. Then we’re going to Barts and you will get this seen to. I will stay with you, but I can’t treat you, and definitely not here.”

Sherlock was breathing shallowly but rapidly, watching him in silence from his place on the couch.

“I promise, I will be there for you, all the way. Now, let’s go. The cab is waiting.”

“John…”

“Come on, we need to…”

“John, call Mycroft.”

He saw the grimace on his friend’s face that had nothing to do with his bruised throat.

“What for? I mean, I suppose I should, he is your brother…”

“They won’t let you stay,” he whispered. “Mycroft can make them.”

“Well, that is a risk…” he frowned and picked up Sherlock’s mobile. “Very well.”

He felt his free hand being grasped in the detective’s long, cold fingers. Trembling, long, cold fingers.

His gaze met the green eyes of the man looking at him in fear.

“Don’t worry,” he said, hearing the signal and waiting for Mycroft Holmes to pick up. “I won’t leave you alone there. Mycroft? This is John. We need your assistance. Yes, I’m afraid it’s a rather pressing problem…”

Written by Srebrna

2019/02/18 at 17:00

Posted in Monday Fix-Its

Tagged with ,

Urban Legends – Under the Bridge

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“Third point on the agenda”, Pebble rasped. “Stoney.”

“What about Stoney?”

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Written by Srebrna

2019/02/18 at 00:11

Posted in Uncategorized

Links to my tumblr stories (shorts, longs, whatevers)

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Because Tumblr is very fine when sharing a meme is needed but is sucks major time for anything else.

Miscommunication (Parentlock, Rosie, short):

The road to be never taken

  1. The road to be never taken
  2. How do we even go on
  3. Undoing and unmaking
  4. Recording log 003

Monday Fix-Its (different first meetings, various canon points changed):

Other small forms:

Written by Srebrna

2019/02/17 at 21:23

Posted in Sherlock

Links for CH 40 (20#9) of DPDT

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Written by Srebrna

2019/02/09 at 11:57

Links for CH 39 (20#8) of DPDT

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Written by Srebrna

2019/02/08 at 12:14

Footnote for Double Pride Double Trouble

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All the details of Lambton, with the exception of the school (because I couldn’t find one that would fit) and the sixth police station and the mall are almost 1:1 taken from current-day Bakewell, which is the suggested source for Lambton from the book. Thank you, Google Street View. All the restaurants, bookshops, cook shops, Spar etc etc are there. The same for the lingerie store and the shopping centre in Matlock. I have no idea if they do hold a Christmas Fair, but WHY NOT. Every town deserves to have one.
The location of Pemberley is Chatsworth House (which played Pemberley in 2005 adaptation – I’m not a fan of this one, but…)
The interiors (mostly the ground floor) are loosely based on Sudbury Hall, which played the interiors of Pemberley in 1995 (my favourite one), but I adjusted the size, because the exterior in that adaptation is Lyme Park, which is several times bigger and I was aiming at much more living space to be had inside than Sudbury Hall offers. Also, I got rid of the Long Gallery.
Locations mentioned in London either are fully existing normal points of interest (whatever the kids saw on the trip, or visited with their parents – ZOO, the winter markets, little streets, bridges, Camden Market, Camden Lock etc etc) or are generic big-city stuff (the school, unknown area where Kitty lives, unknown area where the older Bennets live).
Locations mentioned around Europe exist and are mostly googleable.
Weather I reference is taken from this very helpful site: https://www.timeandd…th=11&year=2017 (although I cheated and gave the kids more snow these Christmas, because it would have been dreary otherwise). Weather for Lizzy’s and Will’s trip is taken from the same source. Also, other phenomena have been checked and confirmed to have happened. When Lizzy and Will do the stargazing in ch 16, these are the stars that would have been visible at the time. Also, the moon is in the correct phase.
I tried my best to ensure that the times of travel and routes used (tube, car and others) are realistic. If I refer to certain connections between cities (plane, ferry) they do exist.
I even checked whether the Jag William bought is started with a key, a card or something else.

Written by Srebrna

2019/02/08 at 02:30

Deep Scars

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“I’m not dead. Let’s have dinner,” she said, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she smirked at John.

“Who… who the hell knows about Sherlock Holmes, but – for the record – if anyone out there still cares, I…” his voice broke. “I feel things for that idiot that…” Read the rest of this entry »

Written by Srebrna

2019/02/04 at 16:37