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Fic: The Heart In The Whole (1/20)

Title:  The Heart In The Whole (1/20): Aftermath
Series:   Sherlock (BBC)
Summary: Events after The Great Game leave Sherlock dependent on his best friend and colleague. But John has a secret of his own...
Category: Hurt/Comfort / Romance
Rating: R, Adult themes
Warning: For TBI. If that doesn't mean anything to you, then I guess you don't need to worry about the warning.

Author's Note. This story begins immediately after The Great Game.

Two shots.

There had been two shots.


Waiting, back braced against the side of the cubicle, legs tensed and ready.

Waiting, power coiling in his body, his gaze narrow, focused on the gun in Sherlock's hand, and Sherlock's finger as it began to squeeze the trigger.

Waiting, past the point where there was any chance that Sherlock would change his mind or pause in his action, until the moment when the shot became inevitable.

Only then had he moved, releasing all that energy into a burst of acceleration which sent him flying across the tiled floor and straight into Sherlock, arms outstretched to wrap around him, body twisting to maximise his momentum as he sent them both plunging into the pool, even as the fireball from the bomb vest burst over their heads, the force of the blast sending them deep into the water.

Noise, light, pressure, lack of air, all sensations flooding his mind but none of them touching on the underlying horror as his brain caught up with his ears. Sherlock's unresponsiveness, the memory of his body jerking suddenly as John twisted him and the overwhelming, petrifying awareness that he had heard two shots.

Two shots, when there should only have been one…

John lurched awake, stiff and uncomfortable in the hospital chair, his gaze going immediately to the still figure on the bed, then to the read-outs on the machines banked up on either side.

No change.

He looked down at the hand which was wrapped in his own. The strong, capable hand which usually moved with such precision, such purpose. The long fingers which could tame a violin into surrendering its most exquisite notes. So fragile looking now, so still, the blue veins too evident through the pale, pale skin.

He almost smiled, thinking of Sherlock's reaction should he open his eyes and see John holding his hand. The eyebrow would most definitely quirk at such an imposition, he knew.

He shifted his gaze, as if by staring at Sherlock's eyebrows he could encourage their movement but there was nothing. His eyes roamed over the high cheekbones, the long jaw, the surprisingly full lips. The most alive, most aware, most vibrant person John had ever met – where had he gone?

Behind him, the door opened but John did not look round. The staff had tried to keep him out at first, insisting that he wasn't family, had no connection, no rights, but John had put his head down mulishly and refused to budge. Mycroft stepped in before they came close to dislodging him.

They only had a patient at all because of John, Mycroft pointed out, with an approving smile which John barely noticed. It was he who reached and twisted Sherlock, so that the bullet which would have entered the back of his head actually just skimmed across it instead.

There had been arguing but John hadn't listened any more. He had enough experience of the Holmes brothers to know who would win.

"No change?" It was Anthea, making her early morning check on Mycroft's behalf.

John shook his head. He did not want Anthea in the room. Anthea was not concerned about Sherlock. She didn't care whether the figure on the bed still housed his spirit or whether it was just a shell, an empty house. It did not matter to her; Sherlock was just an item on her agenda, she didn't care.

He glanced round. No bandage swathing her head. No needles in her arms. No ventilator keeping her breathing. Eyes open, conscious, alert, awake… he couldn't look at her for long. Why did it have to be Sherlock whose body was lying in this bed? So many other people, none of them so alive as Sherlock, none of them so unique, none of them so important.

As a doctor, John knew that it was wrong to think this way, of course he knew. To resent everyone else for walking and talking when Sherlock could not; it was wrong.

As a man, he didn't care. Better it was almost anybody else, better it was Anthea, better it was John himself, better it was anyone at all than Sherlock Holmes, who would leave such a hole in the world. When he next remembered to turn around, she had gone.

It had been six days and seven nights since the explosion.

The first night of panic, of horror; a blur of motion and colour in John's memory.

The journey in the ambulance, the blood, the shouting, the frantic activity with total stillness at its centre. No response from Sherlock, no reaction. Still alive but somehow already absent.

People prodding John, lights in his eyes. "Shock," they said. "You're in shock." Sitting to one side, back to the wall, staring at a man who wasn't there. Helpless.

The hospital. Sherlock whisked away, emergency surgery to relieve the pressure in his brain. Repairing the damage from the bullet track which ran straight across the back of his skull. The desperate hope that he would survive.

Sitting in the waiting room, both hands shaking now, people talking but it was just noise, meaningless. Words in his head, round and round... Just live through the operation Sherlock, just don't die. Round and round the garden, like a teddy bear. Don't die, Sherlock, just don't die. On and on, until he thought he would go mad.

Then the first day on his own, rudderless, lost.

A day of undrunk coffee and questions from the police which didn't mean anything, didn't make sense, were irrelevant – couldn't they see it didn't matter? What did it matter?

A day of waiting for Sherlock to wake up. To wake up and answer the questions, and demand to be released so that he could go home – didn't they know he had several experiments at critical stages?

A long day, an endless day, a day which went on and on as Sherlock didn't wake up, and didn't jump out of bed to hare off after Mori-bloody-arty, and didn't shout at John for being boring and predictable and an idiot, and didn't wake up... and he just didn't wake up.

Quiet that night. The beeping of the monitors, the hiss of the ventilator, fading into background noise.


'Sometimes, I don't talk for days on end,' Sherlock had warned him. 'Would that bother you?'

John hadn't actually replied to that question, but his answer would have been, 'No,' if he'd said anything at all. It bothered him now. He wouldn't say, 'No,' any more.

The second day, they brought in more experts. For the first time, John wished he wasn't a doctor, that he didn't understand the significance of the Glasgow Coma Scale, that he was unfamiliar with the prognosis for Traumatic Brain Injury, that he didn't know how much Sherlock's chances had fallen once the 24 hour mark had passed.

Mycroft was there, he was talking to the doctors, asking questions, demanding information John knew they couldn't give him. No amount of power or leverage could deduce the mysteries of the human brain. There was no way to know when, or if, Sherlock would wake up, or how he would be affected.

The specialists were talking to Mycroft. John could hear them mention possible problems with memory, with speech, with vision, with balance. Sherlock might suffer from mood swings; his personality could be completely altered. The most likely issues would be with cognitive skills – attention, concentration, processing information, all the things which Sherlock most valued in himself, they could be gone.

Would he know? John wondered. If he woke up a different man, an average man, a man like everyone else, would he know what he had lost? Sometimes people didn't – they would emerge from coma in denial, unable to compare post-injury behaviour with pre-injury abilities, not understanding or accepting that they had changed. That would be better, John thought. For Sherlock, that would be better. When he woke up, they would see. When he woke up.

Days passing, merging into the nights, watching, waiting for Sherlock to return. People coming and going while John remained, almost as still as his friend, talking to him all the time. Telling him about their cases, about people they knew, even about the bloody solar system. Leaving only briefly and when he absolutely had to, when Mycroft came to take his place while he showered, ate, did the bare minimum to keep himself functioning.

Mycroft talking, and for him John tried to make an effort. For Sherlock's brother he tried, concentrating on the words, thinking what to say, pushing past the fog of denial in his head. The fog that said this wasn't really happening, that said 'You'll be woken by the violin at four in the morning', that said it was all a bad dream, the worst dream you've ever had; a dreadful business, no doubt, but it can't possibly be real.

Mycroft gave up after a while, looking at John with sympathy in his eyes even though it was his brother in the bed, his family who might never recover, still he smiled at John and patted his shoulder.

He had read the reports, he said, seen the statement John could barely remember making, interrogated the sniper responsible for the shooting. He knew what Moriarty had done, what John had tried to do, how much John had been willing to sacrifice to save his brother. He knew. He knew it all.

Six days and seven nights. One more day until John would have to go home. Go home and try to accept that Sherlock was probably gone, that the body in the bed was just that, a body. Not Sherlock any more. Not Sherlock ever again.

Seven days he had given himself. Seven days to hope and to pray to a God he didn't know was listening, wasn't sure he believed in, but he prayed anyway.

After seven days the ten percent chance of recovery went down to three. Ten per cent was quite good. Ten percent wasn't out of the question. You could hope, with ten percent, you could hope and you could still believe that Sherlock would open his eyes.

Open his eyes and see John sitting there, holding his hand even though Sherlock would hate that, would resent it, would not want John's emotions and sentiment dripping all over him.

He would pull his hand away and give John his most supercilious look, just as soon as he opened his eyes. Soon now, he would open his eyes. Open his eyes and see John, as he waited. Waited for his world to come back.

Darkness. Pain. Confusion. He was floating, disconnected, lost in the void. Disjointed memories, or were they? Were they memories, or visions? Images flashing through his mind. Impressions of noise, of light, of arms closing round him. The void rising up to swallow him again. Blackness.

A presence. A voice. Words not making sense, just sounds, no meaning, but familiar. Sounding warm, sounding safe, sounding like home. Fading.

Touch. Something touching him. Someone. One hand warmer than the other. Disparity. What was that? Who was touching him? Reaching...

John stared down at the hand he held, mouth open, eyes wide.

Had he imagined it? Had his prayers brought a miracle or had his longing just produced a delusion?

No, he was almost sure. Sherlock's hand had twitched. He waited, uncertain, afraid; hope was such a dangerous emotion.

It didn't happen again for several hours, then Sherlock's fingers definitely tightened. John glanced at the other hand – that was flexing too.

He reached for the buzzer, pressing the button that would bring the crowd, that would let Mycroft know his brother could be coming back, trying desperately to keep the treacherous hope tamped down; reminding himself that progress to Level II did not guarantee advancement to Level VIII and that Sherlock could stick at any point in the scale and remain there, lost in his head, for months or even years.

By evening, Sherlock was much more responsive, moving around in the bed, pulling at his bandages and lashing out if touched. He was off the ventilator, breathing for himself and talking, but his words were random, incoherent. His eyes were open but he wasn't looking at anybody, his gaze roaming, unfocused.

"Confused and agitated," the specialist told Mycroft. "Level IV on the Rancho scale. This is excellent." The man seemed delighted.

John allowed the hope in his chest a little room to grow, letting it unfurl just slightly, a cautious, tentative optimism, still braced for disappointment but getting stronger.

"Level III is the sticking point," the expert continued. "If he's made it this far, he is likely to progress further."

Mycroft muttered something and John heard tutting from the doctor. "No, no, I'm afraid that only happens on television. People don't just snap out of a coma; the brain isn't a light switch, it takes time to re-orient itself."

More muttering; John tuned it out, eyes steady on the figure of his best friend. He was taking in every detail, missing nothing. Watching every move made by the most important person in his life, who had yet to recognise or acknowledge him, but who was on his way back.

That night, John slept in a bed for the first time in a week. Admittedly, the bed was in one of the hospital visitor's rooms, he didn't actually leave the building, but Mycroft was sitting with his brother tonight and John didn't trust himself not to unthinkingly take Sherlock's hand, as he had become so used to doing. He didn't want to increase Sherlock's agitation; it was common for brain injury patients to dislike being touched, especially at first. Sometimes they even perceived any physical contact as pain.

It was too soon to judge how much the person who was coming back to them would be the Sherlock they knew. He was certainly making rapid progress – naturally, being Sherlock, he would be in a hurry. The smile almost made it onto John's face this time and he slept deeply, exhausted from his vigil, for once not dreaming of explosions or gunshots, but of Sherlock's eyes, and that penetrating gaze which swept over you and knew all your secrets. He'd have to watch out for that gaze, was John's last thought as he slipped into slumber; have to get his guard back up in the morning, or Sherlock would see... Sherlock would know... John slept.

Sherlock woke the next morning, knowing who he was. He listened to the beeping of machines and heard the rustling of someone crossing their legs in a chair next to him. He could feel a needle in his arm and his head hurt. Hospital, then. He opened his eyes; night time.

More rustling, then a voice. Mycroft, but he was talking nonsense – no change there, then. Sherlock smiled to himself.

He heard a door, footsteps. Wasn't anyone going to put the light on?

Someone was approaching, the stride well-known and sounding like home. "John?"

John's voice answered from his left, but the words sounded wrong. Sherlock turned his head.

John wouldn't wander around in the dark, surely? Was his head bandaged? He reached up to check. There was a bandage, but his face was uncovered.

Sherlock stretched out a hand, which was swiftly taken in a familiar hold.

"John, why can't I see you?"



There are translations of this story available in: Korean, French, Russian, Catalan, Spanish and Chinese. Links are on my Index page.



( 108 comments — Leave a comment )
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Oct. 29th, 2010 07:23 pm (UTC)
I have the feeling this fic is gonna make me cry at some point. ;_;
But YAY! for new fic from you! :D
Oct. 29th, 2010 07:29 pm (UTC)
I'm back! Woohoo!! It feels good...

Don't know about making you cry, I figured I'd get the angst out of the way early on this time rather than dumping it on people after a deceptively fluffy build up - think I've learned my lesson after last time, with a screen full of comments which all started 'Noooo...!'

Hope you enjoy it!

(no subject) - equusentric - Oct. 29th, 2010 08:04 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - verityburns - Oct. 29th, 2010 08:15 pm (UTC) - Expand
Oct. 29th, 2010 08:32 pm (UTC)
New fic!!!! I'am happy now. Even if it starts with lots of hurt. I trust that lots and lots of comfort and romance will follow :-D
Oct. 29th, 2010 08:36 pm (UTC)
Yay for new fic - I'm so happy to be back! Getting the sad bits out of the way early on this time...

Oct. 29th, 2010 10:48 pm (UTC)
*smiles* You do like to torment these two. Sherlock would hate having to see through someone else's observations.
Oct. 29th, 2010 11:00 pm (UTC)
Oh you're so right... I really do! What's the point of writing a fanfic if you can't throw in a bit or torment? It's half term and the house has been completely infested with kids; I've had more than enough torment to share!

(no subject) - charisstoma - Oct. 29th, 2010 11:20 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - verityburns - Oct. 29th, 2010 11:24 pm (UTC) - Expand
Oct. 29th, 2010 11:12 pm (UTC)
Oh, this is a terrific beginning! John's so worried, so desperate for Sherlock to wake up - THANK YOU for having that start to happen by the end of this installment, or I couldn't bear it!

Plus, this was educational, because I had to look up the Rancho Scale!
Oct. 29th, 2010 11:19 pm (UTC)
Oh thank you! I had to wake him up before the end of the chapter, or I think I would be even more vilified than I was around the mid-section of TRLT, and I can't remember where I left my protective head-gear!

Thanks for the link! It's difficult actually, because I know quite a lot about TBI so it's hard to gauge the right level of detail, without getting too bogged down in jargon - I hoped to put in enough so that it was clear what was going on without doing any research, but that there were enough key words so that you could look it up if you were interested! Why do I always set myself these fine lines to walk?!

Thanks very much for your kind words - bit nerve-wracking publishing a new story, so they really mean a lot!

Oct. 30th, 2010 02:17 am (UTC)
This is a great start. Thanks for writing this new fic
Oct. 30th, 2010 06:16 am (UTC)
Hello again and thank you! I couldn't stay away any longer!

Oct. 30th, 2010 02:46 am (UTC)
This is a wonderful start! Thank you for not having him wake up all at once, it was very nice to see a realistic coma wakeup. My friend was in a coma for several days when she fell down a flight of stairs, and after numerous surgeries and therapy, and nearly a year later, she's finally back up to where she was. Head injuries are horrible things!

I'm looking forward to seeing where this will go! Yay!
Oct. 30th, 2010 06:21 am (UTC)
Hello again - I'm so pleased you liked it!

Sorry to hear about your friend, that sounds awful, but glad she seems to have made a full recovery.

Hopefully Sherlock will do the same... eventually!

Oct. 30th, 2010 03:27 am (UTC)
Woohoo you are back!!!
Great chapter - you described the feelings of John, so caring and worried about Sherlock, so well and so real that it hurts and at the same time feels so sweet to read. And thanks for waking Sherlock up before the end of the chapter!! I don't think John (and I) would be able to take it anymore if he stayed unconcious! :'-)

Honestly I'm kind of fed up lately with the 'cliche' angst that John doesn't realize his true feelings and gets married, leaving Sherlock all alone and tortured blahblah, so I'm really glad that John here knows his own feelings and stays with Sherlock since the beginning. Looking forward!!
Oct. 30th, 2010 06:28 am (UTC)
Yay, I am back! It's been so hard to stay away; I've been trying to get on with a couple of other projects, but this story just wouldn't stay in my head any longer - I feared it bursting out of me in some gruesome 'Alien' type scenario if I didn't actually start writing, and it feels so good to be back!

Had to wake poor Sherlock up, or I think everyone would be too depressed to come back for Chapter 2, and I'm not planning on letting John torture Sherlock... that's MY job!

Great to have you with me - thanks so much for reading and your very kind comments, they give me such a boost, I can't tell you.

Oct. 30th, 2010 07:51 am (UTC)
Oh blind!Sherlock. That would be horrible for him - so much observation lost to him! Can't wait to see how this plays out.
Oct. 30th, 2010 08:01 am (UTC)
Thank you! I can't wait either - if I get an idea which makes me think 'Ooh, I wonder what would happen if...' then that's it, I'm off!

Next chapter in a day or two.

Oct. 30th, 2010 07:58 am (UTC)
EEEEE~ I just read this on the bus! :DD (I read bad!fic on FF.net to stave off boredom on the way home; only this morning I noticed that there was new fic from you and went all "Asdfghjkl WTFBBQ!" on it.)

I love the premise! I whole-heartedly encourage people to write more dependant!blind!Sherlock because it's so interesting. John's emotions feel real, and the fact that you seem to have done your research re: TBI only adds to the sense of desperation because reality truly is that different from the telly where people wake up from a week of coma just like that and with no damage.

Can't wait for more~ (and yay, fluff ahead then :D eventually) Oh, before I forget: I love the fact that you borked up Sherlock's hearing because there is nothing more annoying than knowing people are making sense but hearing complete gibberish.
Oct. 30th, 2010 08:09 am (UTC)
Ha ha ha... what a fantastic image - I can just picture you reading bad!fic on the bus and rolling your eyes at it. Really, modern technology is amazing!

I found the idea interesting too, hence the story and yes, I do want to be as realistic as I can to the truth of TBI. If I'm going to use it as a plot device, then at least I'm going to be honest as possible while doing so.

Loving the expression 'borked up' - never heard that before, but may have to adopt!

Thanks so much for commenting - still laughing re the reading it on the bus image!

Oct. 30th, 2010 08:11 am (UTC)
Yayy, new fic from you! So excited for this. :D
Oct. 30th, 2010 08:14 am (UTC)
Yay, I'm excited too! So glad to be back, I can't tell you - hope you enjoy this story...

Oct. 30th, 2010 08:25 am (UTC)
oh, this broke my heart...poor Sherlock :( fantastic writing.
Oct. 30th, 2010 08:50 am (UTC)
Hello again and sorry! Just getting some angst out of the way early on instead of sneaking it up on you like last time...

Oct. 30th, 2010 10:15 am (UTC)
right now I am sick and was browsing the internet for something useful and your fic turned up. I am teary eyed and can't wait for another chapter. it's so great that you have decided to write another fic, because TRLT was such a good fic and even though I usually stay away from wips, I am trusting you to finish this one and don't leave us with no ending.

write more soon!
Oct. 30th, 2010 10:26 am (UTC)
Hi - you can trust me on that one, most definitely. I don't have the whole thing written, by any means, but it is fully plotted out with story arcs / developments etc and I have actually written quite a bit of the ending, just because I wanted to explore that a bit more before writing the earlier chapters.

Next chapter should be up in a day or two - hope you're feeling better soon!

Oct. 30th, 2010 10:34 am (UTC)
Oct. 30th, 2010 10:37 am (UTC)
On its way! (Possibly not quite so succinctly!)
Oct. 30th, 2010 11:31 am (UTC)
I'm going to be tormented until the next bit. Well done, you. :)
Oct. 30th, 2010 11:34 am (UTC)
Oh thank you! Tormenting people is, of course, my aim in life.

Next chapter should be up in a day or two so the problem should be fairly short-lived, at least. ;)

Oct. 30th, 2010 11:38 am (UTC)
You're back! TRLT was absolutely brilliant, and this looks like a promising start!

I hate to sound like a demanding child but MOAR MOAR MOAR PLZ :DDDD
Oct. 30th, 2010 11:57 am (UTC)
Oh, I am SO back! Good grief, I have missed this so much - it's only 2 weeks since I finished TRLT and I've been trying to do other things but kept working on this idea on the sly until I've finally burst like an over-filled water balloon and let it out...

Next chapter half done - should be up in a day or two.

Oct. 30th, 2010 12:41 pm (UTC)
I hate to sound demanding, uncivilised and insensitive. And whilst I'm sure you have a busy life....I AM DYING IN MASSIVE WAVES OF PAINFUL AGONY. (i know there's a word for that but idk right now cause my brain is slush) I WISH I KNOW WHAT YOU KNOW RIGHT NOW. I suggest you get to work before we all spontaneously explode and make a mess of your lovely journal. You'll be cleaning icky fangirl uber spam for DAYS. It'll probably even be permanent and you'll have to get a new journal and that will just add to the time it will take to post/write, and then there would be the time finding it, so it's probs just better if you have a burst of whatever the opposite of writer's block is. *takes breath* and so. we will all bees habby :D
Oct. 30th, 2010 01:13 pm (UTC)
Honestly, most of what I know is concerned with how to get various child related stains out of soft furnishings - stay in blissful ignorance for as long as possible, would be my advice!

I am working on the next chapter, I promise - it should be ready in a day or two... please don't explode! Writer's block has never been my problem... it's more 'writer's kids, writer's husband and writer's actual job' that hold me back!

Keep breathing, even if Sherlock says it's boring. :)
Oct. 30th, 2010 01:51 pm (UTC)
awww! What an excellent beginning! :)
Oct. 30th, 2010 01:56 pm (UTC)
Thank you! Hope you enjoy the rest...

Oct. 30th, 2010 01:52 pm (UTC)
Happy to have a new series from you to read.
The piece is very emotional and heartbreaking. Nice idea.
Blindness is and awful thing, I am wondering, how they will make it through.

Waiting for more!
Oct. 30th, 2010 01:58 pm (UTC)
You may like this story better - I think there will be less opportunities for fluff this time round and I know how you feel about the dreaded fluff!

Next chapter should be up in a day or two, hope you enjoy...

(no subject) - myszata - Oct. 30th, 2010 03:13 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - verityburns - Oct. 30th, 2010 03:25 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - myszata - Nov. 1st, 2010 11:38 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - verityburns - Nov. 1st, 2010 11:49 pm (UTC) - Expand
Oct. 30th, 2010 02:21 pm (UTC)
VERITYYYYYY! You're back! *pounces and glomps her* I missed you! You were gone a whole ... wow, two weeks. Far too long. I bounced and squeed like a bouncy squeeful thing when I saw your name on sherlockbbc, cos I didn't think you'd be back so soon, but I'm thrilled to bits.

But you're going to break my heart several times more, aren't you, before you put it back together again for the ending. Why do I let you do that? And why do I enjoy it so?! I'm clearly a masochist, and you do enjoy torturing us!

Long may it be so. Looking forward to the rest of the story.

Edited at 2010-10-30 02:22 pm (UTC)
Oct. 30th, 2010 02:47 pm (UTC)
I'm back, Yay, I'm back! *Dances round the room*.

Two weeks is too long, I totally agree. But then, I have spent the last week thinking up horrible things to do to the characters I love so much... ooh, if you could see inside my head... *evil cackle*

Just kidding... I'm SO changeable!

Next chapter is more than halfway done, so should be up in a day or two.

Glad to have you with me!

Oct. 30th, 2010 02:49 pm (UTC)
This is such a good beginning! I can't wait for the next part, poor Sherlock :(
I love your writing style by the way :)
Oct. 30th, 2010 03:09 pm (UTC)
Oh thank you - what a lovely thing to say, that's really nice of you!

I'm working on the next chapter now, should be up in a day or two...

Oct. 30th, 2010 03:08 pm (UTC)
Great beginning. I can't wait to read more and so glad to see you writing, was missing it. John waiting for Sherlock to wait was heartbreaking.
Oct. 30th, 2010 03:11 pm (UTC)
Hello again! I was missing it too... couldn't stay away any longer, I seem to have a 2 week limit.

Poor boys, I'm putting them through the wringer again!

Oct. 30th, 2010 03:21 pm (UTC)
Fascinating. Looking forward to more.
Oct. 30th, 2010 03:27 pm (UTC)
Thank you! More is coming in a day or two...

Oct. 30th, 2010 05:00 pm (UTC)
First thought when I saw the link to this fic? YAY she's written another Sherlock/John fic! :D
It's Christmas!

And as always I really love your style of writing, the slow build and then the unseeable change of events, just like at the end of this first chapter.
I just went: OH NO! But instantly thought: I can't wait to read on and see how John can comfort him.
I know this one will probably break my heart again, but I think it'll be in a good way ;)

So I guess I just wanted to say: GREAT START! :D
Oct. 30th, 2010 05:10 pm (UTC)
Hello again! I am back, yay! Oh, I've missed this so much...

Thank you for your kind words, and for the vote of confidence, which I will endeavour to live up to. I do have very definite plans for where this story is going, but I thought I'd get some of the angst out of the way early on, instead of dumping it on you out of the blue in the middle!

It's certainly not going to be all doom and gloom, or I'll end up eating far too much comfort Ben & Jerry's while writing, and you know how I feel about happy endings (i.e. they should be mandatory!)

Glad you enjoyed - next chapter should be up soon, probably tomorrow.

(no subject) - wiccaqueen - Oct. 30th, 2010 05:30 pm (UTC) - Expand
Oct. 30th, 2010 09:30 pm (UTC)
Yay, another fic to become addicted to. I love it, can't wait. x
Oct. 30th, 2010 09:34 pm (UTC)
Hello again and welcome to my 'I'm Back!' party!

Next chapter should be up in a day or two - hope you enjoy it!

Oct. 30th, 2010 09:33 pm (UTC)
Oh... No. No no no.

I get the feeling I am going to love this story. Excellent start. Very excellent
Oct. 30th, 2010 09:37 pm (UTC)
Hello again and thank you; four 'No's in a row usually mean I'm doing something right! And may I say your icon is gorgeous - and strangely appropriate for a comment on this particular fic.

Hope it lives up to your expectations... I have plans, *rubs hands together in a gleeful manner*!

(no subject) - azure_horizon - Oct. 30th, 2010 10:03 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - verityburns - Oct. 30th, 2010 10:14 pm (UTC) - Expand
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