AN/ Hey folks! This is the beginnings of my experimenting a bit with writing in a third person POV. I've always preferred to write in first person, and generally lean rather heavily on dialogue, so this is definitely a new experience! Let me know what you guys think!
Sidenote- I am going to mark this as complete because it technically is, but as I experiment more with writing in third person (I can guarantee there will be at least one more), I'll be tacking it onto this story, so please follow for more.
I do not own BBC Sherlock or its characters- I just enjoy borrowing them from time to time for my own entertainment.
A Summer's Rain
There is nothing more soothing than walking barefoot on the pavement in the middle of a gentle, warm summer rain. John Watson doesn't have the opportunity to do it often anymore- walking barefoot in London is just asking for either disease or injury- but during the years of his childhood he would take to the street as soon as he noticed the steady mist just beyond the window. Even now, if not in the midst of a case when a light shower overtakes the city, he'll shuck shoes and socks, make his way gingerly downstairs, and drop to the front step of 221 until the storm either ceases or turns into a full downpour.
There is something about the way the heat of the day soaks into the soles of his feet from the sidewalk along with the delicate film of water that sets every surface gleaming in the weak sunlight attempting to struggle through grey clouds. There is something about the patter of rain along his shoulders, soaking into his hair, trailing in slow-moving rivulets along his cheeks, jaw, and throat like well-loved fingertips. He tilts his face upward into the soft deluge and flinches instinctively with every unexpected drip, but the tension that is a direct result of living a day-to-day life in the company of Sherlock Holmes melts from his shoulders and fingers and calves. Sometimes the release leaves him feeling giddy, filling him with a barely-fought urge to rise and splash-dance-spin around Baker Street, nosy neighbors and condescending flat mates be damned. Other times the rush of calm leaves him feeling introspective and melancholy, contemplating a thousand thoughts of "what if-?" and "can you imagine-?" and "where would I be if we hadn't-?" that swirl busily about the back of his mind on a daily basis.
Sometimes Sherlock will sneak down to make sure his flat mate is still alive and returns silently to the flat upon seeing the other man lost to the world; other times he'll rouse his companion from his thoughts with a gentle touch to his drenched shoulder, commenting in a off-handed manner about his health or his old war wound. Once in a great while, if his own mind has gotten to be too much, he'll carefully toe off his own footwear, nudge John over on the step, and the pair will sit in a comfortable silence as the sky opens its floodgates to cleanse the city, if only for a few hours.
AN/ There it is! This was inspired by my own experience with a lovely, light rain earlier this week- seriously, it's one of the most soothing, cleansing experiences. I imagine the boys need that from time to time, eh? Ha. Anyway, please leave me a review to let me know if you liked it!