|Reviews for Afterglow|
| Cheile chapter 1 . 7/3/2014
:wave: still fandom-blind but you already know that, lol.
I love the opening line—it paints an image immediately of dimness in the room and then here's John laying on the bed, staring at nothing, watching the fading light beams move across the room. His mental observations about the pace of people outside changing and the streetlamps coming on is interesting—interesting in that you wouldn't think that someone in his shell-shocked state would notice these things, but then his brain is hyper-focusing on the mundane BECAUSE of his shell-shocked state. So it's a nice bit of emotional response there.
Poor Mrs. Hudson :(
Since I'm fandom blind, I do not know who this Harry is, of course, but she sounds like a good friend—offering to be John's listening ear but, at the same time, not pushing him. That is always a good thing for someone in that awful state of mind: offer support but don't push it on the person.
I almost thought that he would find a little calm in looking out at the night but I should have known better! And to find out that's not blood under his nails... :shudder: No wonder John got literally (repeatedly) sick! How horrific! I have to say that descriptives of that kinda creep me out (bad personal experiences), but you didn't overdo it, which I really appreciate. And again, you show Harry's continuing to be a good friend in that she's not bothered by John's getting sick—she just stays by his side.
And your last line is just as powerful as the first: that moment of silence before night falls completely, and the final ray of natural light is replaced with the artificial light of the streetlamps.
So nicely done, though I feel awful for poor John. Hope to tag again soon!
| becgate chapter 1 . 4/29/2014
| StrawberryDuckFeathers chapter 1 . 1/14/2014
. Decided to see how many reviews I can give someone in 1hr. You're my subject for today, Edhla!
. Fandom-blind, but I have some limited knowledge of Sherlock Holmes in general .
I really like the summary; for me, it's implied that time keeps going even after Sherlock dies, and that, for me, has quite an optimistic tone for it, something unlikely and quite original for a death story. :) I wonder if my prediction is correct, though...I don't think it is. : P
The short opening sentence worked so well and so tragically, since it throws you right into the death. It's also got a 'blunt sound of reality', if you get what I mean. It doesn't dance around the idea that the character's dying, it confirms it, and that gives an emotional edge to the story. A lot of death fics don't get sad 'til the end, but this one already gets you emotional at the first sentence, so great work on that. The weather symbolism works great. The 'muted' sunbeams reflect on the story title and what I'm assuming to be an overall recurring symbol of fading light, almost like, not just fading life, but also fading happiness for whoever Sherlock leaves behind- especially his poor friend John. :( 'The night would follow' gives a very dark and hopeless edge to the character, like there's only a bleak future for John with no Sherlock. Using those two was a great idea for this type of piece, given their friendship strikes me as the type where one just would not cope without the other. Streetlamps sound quite depressing for me, since their light is artificial, and it's almost like the natural light of being around Sherlock won't exist anymore. The 'change in tenor' really struck me, since not only did it reference the dissonance of the happiness of people out at night with the low mood of Sherlock's apartment, but it also makes me think that John's life will 'change tune' without his friend around. I think the distance in the dialogue when he hears people on the stairs does a good job of showing John's loss in his thoughts, since he can't quite recognise them, and there's no dialogue tag either, like the voices don't have any particular sound to them- they're just voices that go straight through him. The voices seem to be referring to John himself and his state, and he doesn't even realise because he's too focused on Sherlock by the sounds of things. :( Judging by your past stories I've read, your ability to portray character is nothing short of stunning. You use everything to your advantage- the narrative, the dialogue, their actions, and it creates such vivid characters in your stories. I notice that the 'narrative voice' sounds very deadpan as well, such as 'Sherlock Holmes was dead.', and it reflects John's personality right now so well. Harry's reaction to John was very believable; she is gentle with what she says as not to upset him further, but she doesn't go over-the-top with her condolences either. You use silence so well. John not saying anything seems to say more than his words might have; it says his feelings, his grief, his worries for the future, everything about how he feels. Oh my goodness... I actually gasped when I found that John had Sherlock's brains under his fingernails, and it was an amazing hint. The thing is... Did John just happen to be where he died, and perhaps touched the body in disbelief of Sherlock's death? Or was he actually responsible? :O I'm not so sure... As for the Temazepam, knowing he'd taken that, given the circumstances, was heart-crushingly sad to read, probably because it's a pretty subtle hint, and I only caught the meaning behind it /after/ I read it... The way his uncontrollable emotions and vomiting cuts Harry's dialogue creates a chaotic feel and a shocking, out-of-control catharsis that's incredibly tragic to read. I loved the ending; the natural light of the day is all gone now, and all that's left is the fake artificiality of the street-lights which, for me, creates a depressing, uncomfortable feel. I have no concrit for this. However, I will say that, so far in my FF time, this has got to be one of the saddest fics I've read. My eyes are actually feeling a bit hot where they want to cry, but I'm telling them not to. XD Keep up the good work; your ability to create emotion in your readers is striking!
| The Wayfaring Strangers chapter 1 . 11/27/2013
Oh... Oh, John. The image of a cloudy evening fading is very vivid and cold and dull like winter and you've captured that essence brilliantly. I've watched the day drain away many times, but it never occurred to until now that John would, that night. Something about nightfall makes it so terribly final. Good, heart-breaking work.
| Rainie Skyes chapter 1 . 9/8/2013
Not blood. Brains. He had traces of Sherlock's brains under his fingernails. - What more could possibly need to be said? Once again, Edhla, you have written an amazing slice of time. Just lovely.
| magentacr chapter 1 . 8/27/2013
Aw, so sad. Tiny bit gruesome I must say though. Nevermind, still very good.
| Sundapple chapter 1 . 4/20/2013
Agh! More "Oh, John..."! Honestly, will Reichenbach feels ever not be a thing anymore? I thought I'd mostly moved past that with your other fics!
With this fic, I just get a mental image of that shot from Reichenbach of John sitting in his chair in Baker Street after Sherlock is gone. He just looks so hopeless. Not even lost or confused, just silent. Gone.
| xxspade chapter 1 . 4/13/2013
OMG! ;-; this made me want to cry! Nice writing Edhla. Its definitely shorter then mine which is good, and the details are really nice. I really like your style. :] I like the ending part you came up with. xD Made me freak out and bring my sister over cause I can totally see that happening.
| mrspencil chapter 1 . 4/7/2013
Your writing packs a powerful emotional punch.
| Ennui Enigma chapter 1 . 4/7/2013
Well done! I enjoyed the comparison of Harry and John - two broken individuals.
| thedragonaunt chapter 1 . 4/5/2013
This is raw, savage and bleak. Best depiction of the immediate aftermath I have EVER read! Phew!
| jack63kids chapter 1 . 4/5/2013
Oh what a wonderful precursor this is! Fabulous as always. The BBC didn't let us see this moment, but now we can see it all too clearly - heartbreakingly clearly.
Too many great phrases, sentences and whole paragraphs to include them all: 'the muted beams of an overcast day'; 'murmurs that seemed to seep through the gap below the door'; 'he greeted her touch with a sort of slack-wristed acceptance'... and I love that we know the colour of the curtains even in John's moment of sheer despair.
I'm not sure where the brains came from - the BBC weren't that graphic...
Lovely piece of angsty distress to start my day, thank you.
| TheGameMrsHudsonIsAfoot chapter 1 . 4/4/2013
I do love a bit of angst!
This is wonderful... I haven't read many stories about the time immediately after the fall from John's point of view, and I find it really clever writing because I largely felt what John was feeling throughout even such a short piece of writing.
The beginning hurts but it's almost like a dull ache shot through with some choice words- 'She was crying for her boy'- and admittedly by the end I felt sick.
'He had traces of Sherlock's brains under his fingernails.' There's a real ballsy honesty in this line that I admire. I'm really looking forward to reading more of your writing!
| little red cardigan chapter 1 . 4/3/2013
This might be completely random, but I just loved the summary of this one-shot. For some reason, I just found it very beautiful to read, even in its simplicity.
[The tramp of feet from the footpath outside would change tenor- the slow, heavy trudge of those coming home from a day at work would be replaced with the upbeat steps of people who were going out to have fun.] - Wow, I've never seen 'tenor' used like this before. I like how you included contrast within the different types of footsteps associated during the different parts of the day. In the afternoon, people are obviously tired from a day's work, so it's plausible that their steps would be considered as a 'trudge'. The 'upbeat' steps following that can only imply that the night is still young and alive, much like its people.
[a high, thin sort of keening sound, like a cat or a bird or a little child.] - I don't know why, but sometimes I prefer this over someone just 'crying silently'. I know people can express their grief in different ways, whether it be crying noiselessly or making as much noise as they want, but to me, people who make keening noises like this never fail to touch me the most.
[She was crying for her boy.] - Mrs. Hudson...she was Sherlock's landlady, wasn't she? I'm not familiar with this fandom, so when I first read this, I originally thought Mrs. Hudson was actually Sherlock's mother. She must have been really close to Sherlock to refer to him as 'her boy' - I don't know much about these characters, but I already like the relationship between Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock.
[Split knuckles on the right hand. Blood under the fingernails...] - Love this imagery, particularly the way you focused most of the details on just his hand.
[He had traces of Sherlock's brains under his fingernails.] - Oh, that's pretty intense. There wouldn't have been blood or brains under John's fingernails unless he had been touching Sherlock beforehand.
One thing that caught my attention that you emphasized the sense of sound a lot through this story. You highlighted the sound of footsteps within the different times of the day, the keening wails of Mrs. Hudson in her grief, the low voices that John heard on the other side of the flat, the creaking steps, and in contrast to all the above - silence. I can't critique this other than saying that this was done beautifully.
| Lazerwolf314 chapter 1 . 4/2/2013
[a high, thin sort of keening sound, like a cat or a bird or a little child.] - An absolutely beautiful line which is perfect here.
[ Low voices out on the stairs] - You don't truly need the out in this sentance.
Wow. Wonderful and haunting all at once. Kind of like a suckerpunch.
I really enjoyed how everything described around Watson read as if it was coated with a haze. It made me step into John's shoes almost and see how he does and feel how he feels. Rather numb. Especially how he seemed detached when listening to Mrs. Hudson's crying; I felt the pain too.
And oh the angst! I love the angst in this. It's not too overstated; John isn't drowning in the depths of depression he will never rise out of and blah, but rather, he's swamped with grief he can't deal with, which I always find so much more poignant than anything else.
An amazing ficlet here, with what I think is the best final line ever.