skyfyre: Sumeragi Hokuto from X/1999, Smiling (The Game is On)
skyfyre ([personal profile] skyfyre) wrote2010-10-12 12:45 am
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So, where Star Trek made me write weird forms of criticism on episodes (I am totally going to watch the next episode... sometime), Sherlock has made me write fanfiction. I have never actually done this before. This is new, interesting, and kinda frightening. Yay!

Title: The Frailty of Genius
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Notes: Secretly from an IM conversation I had with [ profile] dendriform a while back. Also blessings upon [ profile] trifles for nicely capslocking at me and making me think this should be posted.

Sherlock had once told him about the frailty of genius. He said that geniuses need to be observed. Sometimes Sherlock looks at him and John knows that without him, Sherlock would break under the stress of his own mind.


“Could you not call it a game?”

“Why not?”

“People have died, Sherlock.”

“So? We’ll catch the criminal and, if it makes you feel better, justice will be done.”

“Yes, well-”

“Besides, John, aren’t you having fun?”



They never talk about love. John thinks that Sherlock doesn’t say it because then he would have to back off of his high-functioning sociopath stance.

Really, neither wants to name what they have, for fear of someone trying to take it away.


If someone were to ask, Sherlock would say that they take turns doing the shopping.

Really, John does it most of the time. Sherlock never remembers to buy the milk when he goes.

John suspects that he does this on purpose.


Sometimes John has lunch with Mycroft. He never knows when he starts his day that he’ll be eating with the elder Holmes that afternoon. Mycroft spends the entire meal asking John questions that John refuses to answer. Then John will ask after Mycroft’s diet.

He’s not sure if it’s wise to antagonize a man who may or may not be the entire British Government (and is your flatmate/friend/colleague/whatever’s brother). Somehow, this never stops him from doing it.


“You know, every time you talk to the skull, I think you’re about to perform Hamlet.”


“Oh, God, this is going to be the solar system all over again, isn’t it?”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”


While Sherlock always knew that John had seen Mycroft, John never knew that he’d visited his sister.

He was thankful that she never, in some misguided attempt to protect John’s honor, threatened to hurt him if he ever broke John’s heart. He was less thankful that she threw her drink at him when he called her a drunk.


Have found criminal lair - SH

Wait for backup - JW

Lestrade has assured me that he is on his way - SH

Criminal on the move. Following. - SH

Also, we’re out of milk - SH

Get some yourself - JW

Can’t. Bleeding. - SH


John would never tire of watching Sherlock sleep. It assured him that even he was human.


John had never fancied men before. In Afghanistan he'd been surrounded by them with little else in the way of options, but had never once been tempted. With Sherlock moving inside him, though, setting his senses on fire, he couldn't figure out why he hadn't.

But, then, they probably wouldn’t have felt as good as Sherlock.


“We’re going to the pub. You’re going to like it.”

“I rather doubt both of those claims.”


Sometimes, they would fight. Sherlock would do something heartless, or John would be too slow to catch a train of thought. They wouldn’t yell. Sherlock would shut himself off and John would get sarcastic. Eventually, John would storm out and spend the night on Sarah’s couch. Sometimes they would reconcile the next morning. Sometimes they would avoid each other for days. They would always forgive each other, though, because life was a war and they each knew who their allies were.


John wasn’t sure if it was a good idea for Sherlock to know where the gun was kept. He worried, though, that if Sherlock didn’t mess around with the gun, he’d mess with something worse.


Bond night had been successful, for certain definitions of the word. John counted it as a win that Sherlock didn’t leave halfway through to get himself shot at across the city. Instead he picked apart the spy’s motivations and questioned his intelligence. He did it while leaning against John’s side, though. So it was still a win.


Sometimes Sherlock wonders if he should let John go. Moriarty had threatened to burn the heart of him, but surely he couldn’t do it if he cut it out first?

Invariably, whenever he went to try this, John would smile at him and he would prove too selfish to do it. He hoped that John wouldn’t pay the price for it.


“There’s a hand in the kettle.”

“Very astute.”

“We’ve talked about body parts in the kitchen.”

“Would it help if I moved it out of the kitchen?”

“I’ll just ask to borrow Mrs. Hudson’s.”


Sherlock liked to watch John sleep. It assured him that John was still alive, despite attempts to change that.


If any of John’s family knew about Moriarty, the pool, and the explosives, they may have tried to convince John to leave, to try and save himself before he got hurt.

Mycroft kept the incident out of the papers, though. John didn’t have to tell his family that he’d gone to fight another war.


Sherlock remembers telling John about the frailty of genius; how their genius needs to be observed. He is self-aware enough to know that insanity is not far away from him. He doesn’t know what he’d do without John watching out for him.


“What would you do if I said I love you?”

“... You can’t deduce it?”

“Emotions complicate things. It’s why I’ve avoided them in the past.”

“Are you actually telling me you love me?"

“I’m speaking hypothetically, of course.”

“Of course. Hypothetically, then, I might say that I love you back.”



They have both stared into the face of death on multiple occasions. There’s an insane man out there who wants nothing more than to destroy them, mind, body, and soul.

Surely a relationship would be less stress than that?

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