Inspired by pictures
Oct. 9th, 2008 07:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfanIt wasn't until after midnight that I dared venture deeper into the damp cellar where Holmes had been imprisoned, leaving the lantern behind me. He was calmer, or more exhausted, by then, and had grown accustomed enough to dim light to keep his eyes open for minutes at a time. They glittered at me as I crept closer, inch by careful inch, waiting again and again for the tension to leave his shoulders.
I talked softly the whole time, although I can not vouch for what I said. Lestrade swears I was reduced to nursery rhymes by three in the morning, when at long last Holmes allowed me to settle beside him and gather his cold, half-starved body to my own. For a moment he stiffened, and I held my breath, wondering if he would take another fit, but instead he rested his head against my chest, as if listening for my heart. "Watson," he whispered, and I felt the fear running out of him, felt the sleep he so needed overwhelm his last defenses. I kissed the top of his head, too glad to hear his voice to think twice about the gesture.
"Yes, Holmes," I said. "I'm here."
This droubble never made it as a top entry over at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
cox_and_co because it was response to a picture posted here and follows in the proud tradition... well... maybe not exactly tradition, of a story which some of you saw in the earlier version called Haunted, also done in response to artwork that ate my brain.
I talked softly the whole time, although I can not vouch for what I said. Lestrade swears I was reduced to nursery rhymes by three in the morning, when at long last Holmes allowed me to settle beside him and gather his cold, half-starved body to my own. For a moment he stiffened, and I held my breath, wondering if he would take another fit, but instead he rested his head against my chest, as if listening for my heart. "Watson," he whispered, and I felt the fear running out of him, felt the sleep he so needed overwhelm his last defenses. I kissed the top of his head, too glad to hear his voice to think twice about the gesture.
"Yes, Holmes," I said. "I'm here."
This droubble never made it as a top entry over at
cox_and_co because it was response to a picture posted here and follows in the proud tradition... well... maybe not exactly tradition, of a story which some of you saw in the earlier version called Haunted, also done in response to artwork that ate my brain.
