Entries By Brett
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John sat upright in bed, gasping for air, heart beating erratically in his chest. He hadn’t had a nightmare like this in ages, his traumatic night terrors vanishing after taking up adventuring with his flat mate. He really should have expected it, then, when they came back when his flat mate left him. But, well. He’d hoped. He really ought to stop doing that.Posted By Brett On 05.05.2012 @ 6:24 am
Sherlock quickly accepted that he was very much alone in his life. It was okay. He was just Sherlock, loner, consulting detective, genius, and he was very good at being that all by himself.
Then, along came John Watson. Suddenly, Sherlock wasn’t just Sherlock anymore, he was part of something else. He was half of a whole, half of SherlockandJohn, fitting together like puzzle pieces, stitched together like the perfect patchwork. For better or for worse.
Well. For worse.
The Fall was what did it. The separation. Sherlock never realized just how much he needed this, this SherlockandJohn, this partnership, until he was forced to tear away from it. Rip them apart, fake his own death, separate himself from John and become Just Sherlock again. Except, he couldn’t go back to being Just Sherlock. Once John had been attached to him he could never go back, a piece of him missing and left behind in 221B. Not Just Sherlock, but Sherlockand[empty]. Stitches torn open, missing the seam. Separate. Alone.
It would have to end soon, Sherlock thought. He couldn’t do it alone anymore.Posted By Brett On 05.02.2012 @ 1:04 pm
Lestrade ran his hands through his hair, frustrated. He didn’t want to believe that Sherlock could have been the one who did it, but there was some conclusive evidence and the only alibi the detective seemed to have was backed only on his own word and the word of his roommate, John Watson. As much respect for John as he had, he knew that the doctor would vouch for Sherlock no matter what. Even if Sherlock was guilty. Even if Sherlock was a murderer. Love blinds a person.Posted By Brett On 04.29.2012 @ 3:00 pm
When he sees the paper on the wall outside the hotel he immediately rips it off, clutching it in his hands until it crinkles in his grasp. This can’t be real. Is this a trick? He can feel his heart pounding insufferably in his chest, tears stinging the back of his eyes even though he hasn’t cried since he was four years old and someone called him a freak for the first time out of many. He reads the words, just five words, five words, but they make the difference to him, because the last two are his name and it gives him more hope than he’s had in a long time.
I BELIEVE IN SHERLOCK HOLMES.Posted By Brett On 04.26.2012 @ 3:28 pm
Sebastian Moran was his warrior, his muscle man, his gladiator. If Jim needed somebody killed, Sebastian was the man for the job. If someone was being stingy with their evidence, well, Sebastian would get it out of them, quick and easy. And if Jim was in the mood for a particularly violent orgasm, well, Seb was down with that, too.Posted By Brett On 04.25.2012 @ 5:41 pm
It was that look in his eyes again, peering over the top of his newspaper. Daddy always read the paper, even though he always muttered about how much boring rubbish there was in it. There was nothing but scorn in his eyes, but Sherlock couldn’t honestly say why that was. He hadn’t been doing anything wrong, had he? He looked up at Mycroft, eyes wide, hopeful, only to see the same expression reflected there.
Alone again then. Sherlock ducked his head and waited for The Talk, wondering if he could get away with slipping into his mind palace if he nodded periodically.Posted By Brett On 04.23.2012 @ 5:06 pm
Sherlock scowled down at the food on his plate, clear displeasure etched into his every feature. John laughed. “It’s escargot, ‘Lock.”
“It’s… snails,” Sherlock said, slowly. He pushed the plate away. “I won’t eat this. I’m a vegetarian.”
“Don’t be a child, you had a steak just yesterday.”
“I am now.” Sherlock peered up at John with disgust. “We’re never going to France again, John.”
John chuckled. “I thought it was nice. Romantic.”
“Never. Again.”Posted By Brett On 04.22.2012 @ 11:49 am
sometimes i wonder why we even have sleeves. They are so pointless. Why do we need them if we could just wear singlets? Why did anyone invent sleeves in the first place? Well I might even have an answer for that! Its so that we can have tshirts and everyone loves tshirts!Posted By Brett On 12.15.2011 @ 4:36 pm
skeletons in the closet are one of the biggest bad things about everything they hold people back and make people afraid; but on the other hand they help us learn – we know to move on from there or then mistakes and to progress. skeletons are bones – structural and importantPosted By Brett On 07.23.2011 @ 11:45 pm
My skeleton is something I have never seen. I have not seen it because I constantly have a layer of skin covering it. Generally, this is a pretty normal anatomy for a human being. Although I have never seen my skeleton, I know it is rather important for my continued existence. Without it, my body would not be able to hold itself up. My muscles would have nothing to conform to.Posted By Brett On 07.23.2011 @ 2:15 pm
The most intense thing happened to me the other day. It was a day that started the same as most others. I got up, ate my breakfast and headed out to school, still slightly asleep and wishing I was in my bed. The sky was blue and the air had that warm, pillow like feeling of humidity to it.Posted By Brett On 06.23.2011 @ 4:21 am
when they here me on the radio, they all go “whoa, whoa whoa, who is this though?” because they don’t know me, but the airwaves infecting their ears. infiltrating their brain with things they thought they’d never hear. but have no fear, because this won’t be the last time. 60 seconds, to come up with some phat rhymes. bam!Posted By Brett On 06.03.2011 @ 10:00 pm