Author: springfieldbluebird PM
Just a really short ficlet. Connected to the story "A Game for Dreamers and Fools" but didn't really fit in a chapter. First attempt at ficlet, so be nice! :)Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Joan W. & Sherlock H. - Words: 441 - Reviews: 10 - Favs: 9 - Follows: 2 - Published: 11-07-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8682867
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Author's note: I don't own these characters, but I wish I did. This could stand on its own but is really meant to be read around chapter six of "Dreamers and Fools." Hope you like!
He doesn't want to talk during the dark times, so she sits beside him on the couch and watches TV. She's curled up with a book right now, during the baseball game, but she's paying attention to neither because she can't help thinking about him. He's been worrying again. The darkness under his eyes speaks to his lack of sleep. He hadn't had a lack of energy, untill now. Earlier today, he'd frenetically changed all the locks on the doors and replaced the latches on the windows. Still, the man who can pick any lock manufactured knows that there is nothing that will keep the boogeyman out. Especially out of his own mind. Waiting for Moriarty to make a move is driving him crazy.
She realizes that her mind has been wandering for the last three innings. Oh well, she thinks, nobody she liked was playing tonight anyway, and the book is boring. Boring. She realizes how much she sounds like him and she blushes a little under her freckles.
She closes the book, tired of pretending to read, and just sits like he does, staring somewhere into space between the TV and the couch. She tries to match his regular, even breaths with her own. After a few moments, she finds herself wondering if he's hypnotized himself again. "Amygdala?" She questions, in a soft voice.
"No." He replies, his voice in a monotone.
"Ok." She says back. She waits, then asks: "Wanna talk?"
"No." It's softer, but still said with no energy. He's used it all up and is as empty as a flattened balloon. His eyes slip closed and he settles his head slightly against her shoulder, reaching out in his own way, without words. "You read my shirt, that's enough social interaction." says his black tee. She should have known it was going to end up one of those days. He's never said, but she knows that this is one of the days he really needs her because of what he would do without her watchful eye and calming presence.
She stays entirely still, except for reaching out with her smaller hand and taking his. His hand is the perfect glove for her own, and her heart stops aching quite so much when she feels her squeeze returned. It's a small sign, but it's enough for her.