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Fic: Genius Loci

Title: Genius Loci
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating PG
Characters: John Watson
Length: 600 words
Alternate Link: AO3
Author's Notes: Written for the watsons_woes JWP Prompt #15: Cracktastic. Set post-season 2, with all that post-Reichenbach implies. Unbeta'd.
Summary: "Consider it a tribute," Anthea said.

It had been nine months. Nine months of painful silence, Baker Street empty and quiet in a way it had never been while Sherlock was alive. John was functioning. He went to work, he ate, he tried to sleep at night, then he got up and did it all again.

He'd thought about getting a place of his own. Had looked through the paper, checked the listings online, and even made an appointment to go look at a flat this morning. Of course, he'd not been able to make it out of bed before noon, so perhaps he needed a bit more time.

He was fine, though. Perfectly healthy. People grieved in their own way, in their own time, and anyone who tried to tell him otherwise could go fuck themselves.

John fumbled with the key to 221 Baker Street when he got back after he'd put in his hours at the surgery. He looked at the flight of stairs, trying to drum up the energy to lift his feet and make it up there, all seventeen steps. It seemed an impossible task.

Then John noticed that the door to 221B was ajar. He never left it unlocked, and neither did Mrs Hudson. Was it a journalist who had broken in? Some souvenir-hunting fan? John rushed up the steps and slammed open the door to find Anthea sitting on the couch with a shiny new iPad.

"New Scotland Yard is struggling to solve cases with their former efficiency," she said. "And Mr Holmes is of a mind to offer his assistance. Of course, given his responsibilities, it would need to be by remote. Consider it … a tribute." She offered the device to him.

The next day, John found himself at a crime scene. He lifted and turned the iPad to survey the room and zoom in on particular details, reading Mycroft's questions and demands out loud to Lestrade's team as they appeared on the screen, with a spiraling sense of déjà vu. The case was solved in under twelve minutes.

"'That was far too easy, Lestrade,'" John read off the screen after the culprit had been revealed. His voice failed as he tried to finish the sentence. 'Barely a three,' the screen said, as it dropped from John's shaking hands.

Could it be? The hope was sharp, wedged in John's throat, choking him. If this was some mind-fuck by Mycroft, John was going to murder him. He got into a cab and gave the address for the Diogenes Club, watching the CCTV cameras turning to track his progress across the city.

His mobile chimed a text alert.


He ignored it.

John, don't.

Mycroft's club was silent, but it was a live, humming silence, full of men who glared at John as he stomped by them. Two burly servitors with suspicious bulges in their suit jackets let him through to Mycroft's office.

"Mycroft!" John snarled as he opened the door. "What the hell do you think you're playing -"

Mycroft's mahogany desk was empty, except for a tall glass canister in which was suspended a human brain in an aqueous solution. There were wires, and read-outs…

John stumbled to one of the chairs in front of the desk, a tiny camera by the door whirring to follow him. John sat down, heavily, and closed his eyes. He was dreaming. That's what this was. A dream. That was the only possible explanation.

John's phone chimed. With a nightmarish sense of inevitability John's eyes opened and focused on the screen.

I always did prefer to text.


( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
Jul. 16th, 2014 06:47 am (UTC)
They Saved Sherlock's Brain - coming to a theater near you!
Jul. 16th, 2014 06:52 am (UTC)
*snickers* Well, Mycroft already had this whole electronic surveillance system set-up, and what better way to process all that data?
Jul. 25th, 2014 11:36 am (UTC)
I had forgotten this prompt was for "crack".
You really got me there!
Jul. 25th, 2014 09:17 pm (UTC)
I sort of, ummm, fail at crack? Thanks, captain!
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )