Jan. 28th, 2016

madimpossibledreamer: Sherlock holding his violin. (creative)
Main Points:
BBC's Sherlock, Standverse (John has a Stand)
Summary: John has nightmares.  This is one of them.  Except it's happening.
Word Count: 370
Rating: Gen
Notes: Parts of the dialogue are taken directly from The Great Game.

            John sees the destruction and his heart enters his throat.  For a minute, maybe, he even blacks out.  When he comes to, he’s still sitting and his Stand is trying frantically to get a response from him, assuring him that he’d done nothing, this wasn’t his fault.  Sarah’s worried—of course she is, people just don’t black out without reason—but he has to get there, he has to make sure Sherlock’s safe.  He has to make sure that he hasn’t…  He’s barely aware of walking to his flat, and it’s almost not a surprise to see Mycroft sitting there. 
            His frantic queries are met by raised eyebrows, but it seems Sherlock has yet to get out of his bored funk.  Which is good.  That’s good.  If he was hurt, Sherlock would, well.  Be irritable, but not quite bored anymore.
            “A gas explosion.  Apparently.”
            “Though the police have been known to get things wrong,” Mycroft states deliberately, staring directly at him, and John feels faint.  He needs to sit.
            The way he sinks down, his limp’s back and he’s in a terrible condition.  Even Sherlock must notice by now.
            “They haven’t,” he states once to reassure himself, and then again, for Mycroft, “They haven’t.”
            “Mycroft, this is ridiculous.  As if John would bomb anywhere.”  Sherlock is desperate and angry, and John should probably be touched by the defense if he was anywhere near his right mind right now.
            John’s beginning to process things again, though, and he knows this is important.  He looks back up again to see Mycroft’s stare, and nods once.  Fears weren’t reality, after all, and he would’ve noticed his Stand getting out of control.
            There’s a long look as the elder Holmes stares him down, and whatever he sees there, it’s enough.  “Do think about the offer, Sherlock.  Or I’ll perhaps borrow your…blogger.”  He stands and walks over to John, holding out his hand for a handshake.  It’s anything but friendly.  “Goodbye, John.  See you very soon.”
            Sherlock breaks into an furious and discordant violin…noise, and Mycroft leaves.  John tries to calm his racing heart, because he knows there will be questions.  He’s anything but his usual self, and Sherlock couldn’t have failed to miss it.

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