Chapter Summary: A Year in the Life of Mr Sherlock Holmes. Naturally, he is intrigued by dead bodies more than dead letters. However, to Sherlock’s surprise what intrigues him the most happens to be his boss, John Watson. Interesting… that needs further study, for science, of course!
Sherlock Holmes, in the language of his insufferable brother, was ‘definitely intrigued’ about his job at the dead letter office. At twenty-eight, he had outgrown the horror of drug addiction, which was so characteristic of his younger years. He was actually on his way to work, and in ‘colossal form’ at the very thought of it.
He learnt back in his car seat and grinned at Mycroft next to him. For his first day at work, his brother had insisted to drive him; or, more accurate, to have one of his chauffeurs drive them in one of the many black limousines that seem to have super powers for ‘normal’ people.
[…]
Sherlock had heard much about the dead letters office ‘unique and particular original documents, notes and letters’, from a client who had got a letter returned to them from a brother who had died during WW2. If the truth be told, somewhat enthusiastic, because apparently, he had thought it to be lost forever. Yes, Sherlock Holmes was intrigued. That is why he asked, “Who will be there?”
“The usual staff, Sherlock,” answered Mycroft patiently, “with the addition of Dr. Molly Hooper who is a freelancer. There are Sally Donovan and Phillip Anderson, Greg Lestrade who is the head of human resources, maybe he will give you the ‘grand tour’, as you have so neatly put. Lastly, of course, Dr. John Watson, the head of the dead letters office and the one who hired you as his personal assistant. Try not to mock it up this time. Or, at least, make it one day.”
Sherlock stood up and struggled into his overcoat as the car slowed down and drew to a halt.
“I’ll try my best, brother mine. But as you know very well: I cannot promise anything.”
And with this Sherlock got out and stepped away from the car. He left his brother and his old life behind as he entered the dead letter office in London.
Thursday Teaser for chapter 2 of “Then All The World Would See (How Much in Love We Are)”
I mentioned that the fan fiction is an epistolary fic, right? As you can see: I experimented a bit :D
Thetexting, the blog entries, the emails, the letters, the notesetc., ALL will be visuals now.
Quite exciting, don’t you think. It’s a WIP atm - however, it’s not Sunday yet (& I’m shit with tech stuff & I’m on holiday … so take it easy on me, yes, pretty please.)
In case, you’re interested in catching up: chapter 1 can be read here.
What’s the fun in setting a Johnlock fic in a Dead Letters Office WITHOUT making it into an epistolary fic? Not sure if the Holmes’ brothers would use WhatsApp but let’s play pretend, yes?!
In case, you’re interested how John felt about Sherlock showing up at his work:
One morning, a young man stood upon my office threshold. I can see that figure now – his expensive looking, probably tailor-made suit, a cosy looking scarf which matched the colour of his button-down, and a coat that resembled the iconic one Oscar Wilde used to wear. He was overall strikingly gorgeous.
The man was Sherlock Holmes.
And as it is over, I can admit it now, in these private documents for anyone but myself, that I saw him and fell in love with him instantly.
Our eyes locked and it was as if I had come home at last, only to learn that home was not a place but a person. A person who happen to be a man.
Well, fuck me.
The complete first chapter (ca. 2,500 words) can be read here. Chapter 2 will be up — all with shiny new visuals - on Sunday, 15th of July.
John waved around, his aim unclear, but Sherlock understood anyway. He nodded shortly. Then, he went and put a box of letters on one of the already overflowing tables and put off his coat as well. John turned and saw THE letter Sherlock had pinned at the wall.
“Is that…”
“Oh, yes,” confirmed Sherlock. “It is the letter, the one that started it all.”
Silently, as if there was a secret bond between them, they started to reread the now familiar lines. Instantly, as if it was their letters, their story, their love, Sherlock took over Gilbert’s part and John voiced Gordon. For a flicker of a moment, they were not unsung anymore, they came to live, bright and full of hope, fierce and proud, two men out of time:
“Darling, Darling”, Gilbert said, “We are in a pretty ghastly time, I know. But we are in for it together, my dearest love. I want to be with you, always, and it is all going to be okay and we have each other and love each other more. Won’t we? Won’t we?”
“Yes”, clinging to him, Gordon said, “we will, won’t we. So that something rather wonderful will come out of it all.”
“I promise you, it will”, Gilbert said, “You will see. As long as we together.” “That’s right,” Gordon, said, “Being together is everything.”
For a minute or two, there was silence, not awkward or tense; it was companionable. As if they had been old friends, even maybe more than that, life partners, incarnations, going back decades or even centuries, and that it had been always been like that: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson in 221b Baker Street in London, sitting in two chairs in front of a fireplace.
Then John cleared his throat and asked “How did you get hold of the letter?”
“I got someone to duplicate it for me. Do you remember when we met?”
“We had a row, didn’t we?”
“We did. In fact,” Sherlock said, “there is scarcely an occasion in which we have met when we haven’t got a row. Why is that, do you suppose?”
“I guess I’m rather defensive.”
“For a rather long time I rather thought you simply disliked me,” Sherlock heard himself admitting. His voice sounded odd to himself, quiet and unsure, a mirror of his inner workings.
“No, you rather got under my guard.”
[…]
And before Sherlock could explain, reply, whatever, John had pulled down his hand and put it against his lips. Everything Sherlock had ever felt, every frisson had just be a preparation for this moment when his hand melted against his lips. Presently, he found himself leaning over him. He still held his hand like a talisman. Sherlock took John’s face between his hands and kissed John, hard, on his mouth. Sherlock felt that he came alive under his lips. Then he let John go.
“Don’t think I should ask you to forgive me,” Sherlock said. “You have no right to let this go by, John. You are damn to particular to do it by half. I’m your man and you know it.”
Chapter Four of “Then All The World Would See”: Sherlock Holmes, in the language of his insufferable brother, was ‘definitely intrigued’ about his job at the dead letter office. At twenty-eight, he had outgrown the horror of drug addiction, which was so characteristic of his younger years. Enter one John Watson, a fuck-up who doesn’t want to be a fuck-up anymore and also wants to fuck Sherlock Holmes. That he’s Sherlock’s boss happens to be the least of their problems. A story about warzones beyond Afghanistan, second chances in life, and how to fall in love. Told in text, notes and (dead) letters. It’s Johnlock, elementary.(BBC!Johnlock, so far: ca. 15k, explicit).
Get your hankies and kleenex ready, this one is for the heart. I got all teary eyed when I wrote and edited it.
At last, an all-new chapter of ‘Then All The World Would See (How Much In Love We Are)’. It’s time for first kisses, love confessions… and drama. Those two idiots in love…
