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Sherlock Fanfiction: Scintillation
Title: Scintillation
Author: Saki101
Genre: slash
Rating: Somewhere between R & NC-17 (this section), NC-17 (overall)
Length: ~1900 words
Warning: AU, post The Reichenbach Fall
Disclaimer: I don't own BBC's Sherlock and no money is being made.
Author's notes: This is a continuation of the Other Experiments Series which forms an AU frame for the Experiments Series. Scintillation follows Stone Mirror.
Excerpt: “I thought this was the next stop in our continuing mission to unravel Moriarty’s web,” John said.
There was a snort of laughter as Sherlock opened the jeep's back door. “In a moment, you’re going to appreciate how apt your reference is,” he said and reached in for John.
(Photo credit: B. Fugate (FASORtronics)/ESO)
Scintillation
“Wake up, John,” Sherlock said in that hush that driving at night on a lonely road seems to require.
In the back seat, John shifted under Sherlock’s coat.
“John,” Sherlock repeated, steering the jeep onto the rocky shoulder of the desert road. “You’ll want to see this.”
John mumbled and flung out an arm. It hit the wooden crate of brandy lodged between the front and back seats with a thump. “Ow,” John complained, drawing his hand back under the coat and gathering it more tightly around himself.
Sherlock bumped farther off-road before stopping, turning off the headlamps and shutting the engine. He leaned across the gearshift and tapped John’s shoulder with a water bottle. “Here, drink some of this. You’ve been asleep for hours and the air is very dry.”
“Are we there?” John murmured, one hand emerging from the recesses of the coat to grasp the water. Sherlock thumped it firmly against John’s palm.
“Don’t sit up too quickly; we’re rather high. You don’t suffer from altitude sickness, do you?” Sherlock added.
The water bottle had disappeared under the coat. “How high?” John asked.
“Over five thousand metres,” Sherlock answered and opened the door. The chill desert air swooped in. Sherlock’s shoes scrunched in the rocky soil as he stood and stretched. “It was a long drive up, but I’ve wanted to show you this for months now.”
John yawned and emerged partway from the coat, eyes still closed. He leaned his shoulder against the back of the seat and fumbled the bottle open. “I thought this was the next stop in our continuing mission to unravel Moriarty’s web.”
There was a snort of laughter as Sherlock opened the back door. “In a moment, you’re going to appreciate how apt your reference is,” he said and reached in for John.
“You got that, did you? Hmph,” John said and rubbed some of the water over his face. “So what was Moriarty up to up here? Offering his services to incoming starships?”
Sherlock laughed aloud and tugged on John's sleeve. “You are a marvel, John. Come out and see.”
“Yes, I am, if I can make you laugh like that in my flu-addled state,” John said. There hadn’t been many circumstances warranting heartfelt laughter in the past few months. “You’re not catching it, are you?” John opened his eyes enough to grab Sherlock’s hand and let himself be dragged across the seat, coat trailing after him.
When he reached the end of the seat, Sherlock said, “Look.” And John did.
“Where are we?” John asked, sliding down from the vehicle, arm extended for balance, eyes still focussed upwards.
“The Atacama Desert in Chile,” Sherlock said, catching John’s arm and the coat, draping it over John’s shoulders. “The observatory we’re heading towards is still a few kilometres off.”
John took several steps away from Sherlock and the jeep, both arms outstretched now and did a very slow three hundred-sixty degree turn. “And there are telescopes?”
Sherlock smiled. “Observatories do usually have those.”
“I just woke up, Sherlock,” John warned. “What was the bastard trying to ruin up here?”
“Actually, this is a bit of a rest stop. We have been working without respite for months.”
John spared Sherlock a quick glance before his eyes went back to the sky. “I thought you had that scheduled for when you were dead.”
“Well, since I am technically dead…” John huffed. “And I do have you to consider,” Sherlock added. “If you had collapsed in the departure lounge, they wouldn’t have let us on the plane.”
“Thanks. Kick a bloke when’s he’s down,” John said, but the smile never left his face.
“Kick? Never,” Sherlock replied as he stepped behind John. “Drink the rest of the water. This is the driest place in the world.”
“Hm,” John said, looking at the bottle at the end of his arm, “yeah.” He emptied it and leaned back. He could feel the warmth of Sherlock standing just far enough away not to touch. “Well, you were right again, as usual.” John could hear Sherlock’s breathing being shaped differently by his smile. “How long can we stay?”
“For a while,” Sherlock answered, leaning forward to pull the coat closed around John.
“Expressed with scientific precision,” John said, tilting his head back until it hit Sherlock’s shoulder. “You’re hiding something from me and I’m too awed by the sky to care. That was deliberate, I suppose.”
“You know me, John. Most things I do are deliberate,” Sherlock replied and one of his hands slid beneath the coat.
“Ah,” John said, “distracting me with stargazing so you can take liberties with my person.”
“Precisely,” Sherlock agreed. “The road was mostly empty. It was hard not to contemplate you curled up in the backseat.”
“Warm thoughts, were they?”
Sherlock’s fingers crept under the sleeve of John’s jumper in reply. “I think you were having a rather pleasant dream at one point,” Sherlock said.
John searched for a memory of it, but didn’t find anything. “Surprising considering what we left behind.” Sherlock’s grip on John tightened.
**********
Despite the short distance, John had fallen asleep sitting up in the passenger seat. Sherlock opened the vehicle door slowly. John started.
“We’re here,” Sherlock whispered.
John blinked and ran his hand over his face. “Good,” he said quietly, following Sherlock’s lead. “Are we breaking into someplace?” John asked, stepping down, hand on the door for support.
“No,” Sherlock replied, clicking the jeep’s door shut with a quiet push. “I’ve got the codes.”
“Why?” John asked, glancing into the back seat.
“I designed their computer security system,” Sherlock answered, stepping away. “Come. We’ll leave the cognac. I’ve set our other things inside by the elevator already.”
John focussed on the slightly less dark shape of Sherlock’s back and followed him into the silent lobby.
“Dormitory?” John asked as they waited by the glowing arrow of the elevator.
“No, this is a small hotel for visitors, away from the observatories. Film crew left yesterday. We’ll have it to ourselves for a bit,” Sherlock replied as the elevator doors sighed open.
“Emergency power?” John asked as the cubicle rose, lit only by the buttons on the control panel and their reflections in the mirrored walls.
“Conserving generator fuel and minimising light pollution,” Sherlock replied. The doors opened on an equally dark top floor. John stepped out, spotted the strip of tiny white lights along the floor and reached back in for a case. “Left,” Sherlock directed. “You all right with that?”
“My head feels clearer,” John replied. “Fever’s gone, I think.”
“Good,” Sherlock said, shifting the larger case into the hall. John heard the smile and followed the voice along the corridor.
“Here,” Sherlock murmured, lowering the case by an upward pointing green arrow and punching in a code. John thought Sherlock reached inside the door. There was a click and a soft whirr and Sherlock pulled John forward by the elbow. Cool air flowed into the hallway. “Mind the threshold,” Sherlock said. He nudged John further forward when he stopped just past the doorway to watch the ceiling sliding open.
“It’s better lying down and looking up,” Sherlock said when John stopped again. “The edge of the bed is four paces straight ahead.”
John’s knees hit the mattress in six paces. Sherlock had used his own strides to measure. John sat, took off his shoes and slid back onto the bed. Sherlock dropped his coat over John. Various snappings and unzippings indicated Sherlock's shifting location as he moved sure-footed about the rooms in the dark. The whirring stopped. The ceiling had disappeared into the walls. The Milky Way arched across the sky. John thought he might not be able to turn his eyes away.
Cool fingertips sparkled against John’s skin. Layer after layer of warm cloth was peeled away. Chill air curled under the coat. John took a deep breath. Galaxies gleamed from aeons away. Moist lips pressed against John’s ankle, soft hair tickled his calf, his knee, firm hands glided up his legs, settled at his hips. The lips followed.
John’s whole body wanted to rise. Sherlock pulled away. Some sound of protest passed John’s lips and Sherlock slid upwards, emerged from the top of the coat to respond. “I want to finish another way,” he murmured in John’s ear.
John almost closed his eyes. The points of light blurred together. Sherlock’s tongue touched the edges of John’s ear. One of John’s legs hooked over the coat, wool ticklish on his bare skin as he clamped down on Sherlock’s thighs underneath.
“May I?”
“Any way you wish,” John said, hips lifting them both off the bed. The stars were leaning closer. “Only soon.”
Sherlock raised himself on his elbows, looked down at John.
John looked back. The stars glimmered through Sherlock’s curls. John lifted his hips again.
“Not too soon,” Sherlock said.
The coat had fallen to one side. John’s feet were over Sherlock’s shoulders. Sherlock’s hands were behind John’s shoulders, holding him steady, pulling him down. Sherlock’s hips rolled. John moaned again and Sherlock rolled his hips again. John’s neck arched backwards. “Sound carries in the desert,” Sherlock whispered and rolled his hips once more. John pressed his lips together and tried to hold the sound in. “This should help,” Sherlock said and leaned his head down to cover John’s lips with his own. Sherlock’s hands gripped John’s shoulders and Sherlock’s hips began circling without a pause.
Beneath Sherlock’s lips, John opened his mouth and closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids, he saw the stars rain down.
*****
The ceiling was closed when John awoke, over the glass panels dark shades were drawn. The desert sun seeped into the room from every edge. John sat up squinting, found Sherlock hunched over his laptop at a small desk.
“I brought up food,” Sherlock said, without looking away from his computer. “Come eat.”
“Did you eat any?” John asked, sitting up. After a moment, he swung his legs out of the bed.
“Some.”
“Did you sleep any?” John asked, walking over in his open shirt and nothing else.
“Some.”
John picked up a banana from a bowl of fruit, leaned against Sherlock’s shoulder as he peeled it.
“You feeling all right?” Sherlock asked, glancing up.
“Rather well, actually,” John replied. Sherlock smiled and went back to typing. “God, your ego.” Sherlock’s smile broadened, but he kept tapping at his keyboard. John stepped away to check the temperature of a metal teapot on the desk.
“Should still be hot. Filled it a couple minutes ago. There’s a kettle on the bureau, if you want it hotter.”
John glanced at the bureau, used the water from the teapot to make his tea. “So if Moriarty wasn’t perpetrating evil up here, who or what are we here to see?” John asked.
A telephone on the nightstand rang. “Can you get that?” Sherlock said. “It may answer your question.”
John’s eyebrows drew together, but he walked to the telephone. “Hello,” he said.
“Good afternoon,” a cheery voice responded. “Dr Holmes and Dr Bertrand are looking forward to seeing you at tea in the dining hall. In the meantime, do you have everything you need?”
“Ah, yes. Thank you. I believe we have everything.” John looked to Sherlock who was intent on his laptop screen.
“See you at five o’clock, then,” the happy voice said.
“Yes, ‘til then,” John replied before the line cut. He put down the phone and sat on the bed.
“Bertrand's here," John said.
"I could hear."
"And who might this Dr Holmes be?” John asked.
Sherlock continued typing. “My father,” he replied.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next part, Carbonado, may be read here.
Author: Saki101
Genre: slash
Rating: Somewhere between R & NC-17 (this section), NC-17 (overall)
Length: ~1900 words
Warning: AU, post The Reichenbach Fall
Disclaimer: I don't own BBC's Sherlock and no money is being made.
Author's notes: This is a continuation of the Other Experiments Series which forms an AU frame for the Experiments Series. Scintillation follows Stone Mirror.
Excerpt: “I thought this was the next stop in our continuing mission to unravel Moriarty’s web,” John said.
There was a snort of laughter as Sherlock opened the jeep's back door. “In a moment, you’re going to appreciate how apt your reference is,” he said and reached in for John.
“Wake up, John,” Sherlock said in that hush that driving at night on a lonely road seems to require.
In the back seat, John shifted under Sherlock’s coat.
“John,” Sherlock repeated, steering the jeep onto the rocky shoulder of the desert road. “You’ll want to see this.”
John mumbled and flung out an arm. It hit the wooden crate of brandy lodged between the front and back seats with a thump. “Ow,” John complained, drawing his hand back under the coat and gathering it more tightly around himself.
Sherlock bumped farther off-road before stopping, turning off the headlamps and shutting the engine. He leaned across the gearshift and tapped John’s shoulder with a water bottle. “Here, drink some of this. You’ve been asleep for hours and the air is very dry.”
“Are we there?” John murmured, one hand emerging from the recesses of the coat to grasp the water. Sherlock thumped it firmly against John’s palm.
“Don’t sit up too quickly; we’re rather high. You don’t suffer from altitude sickness, do you?” Sherlock added.
The water bottle had disappeared under the coat. “How high?” John asked.
“Over five thousand metres,” Sherlock answered and opened the door. The chill desert air swooped in. Sherlock’s shoes scrunched in the rocky soil as he stood and stretched. “It was a long drive up, but I’ve wanted to show you this for months now.”
John yawned and emerged partway from the coat, eyes still closed. He leaned his shoulder against the back of the seat and fumbled the bottle open. “I thought this was the next stop in our continuing mission to unravel Moriarty’s web.”
There was a snort of laughter as Sherlock opened the back door. “In a moment, you’re going to appreciate how apt your reference is,” he said and reached in for John.
“You got that, did you? Hmph,” John said and rubbed some of the water over his face. “So what was Moriarty up to up here? Offering his services to incoming starships?”
Sherlock laughed aloud and tugged on John's sleeve. “You are a marvel, John. Come out and see.”
“Yes, I am, if I can make you laugh like that in my flu-addled state,” John said. There hadn’t been many circumstances warranting heartfelt laughter in the past few months. “You’re not catching it, are you?” John opened his eyes enough to grab Sherlock’s hand and let himself be dragged across the seat, coat trailing after him.
When he reached the end of the seat, Sherlock said, “Look.” And John did.
“Where are we?” John asked, sliding down from the vehicle, arm extended for balance, eyes still focussed upwards.
“The Atacama Desert in Chile,” Sherlock said, catching John’s arm and the coat, draping it over John’s shoulders. “The observatory we’re heading towards is still a few kilometres off.”
John took several steps away from Sherlock and the jeep, both arms outstretched now and did a very slow three hundred-sixty degree turn. “And there are telescopes?”
Sherlock smiled. “Observatories do usually have those.”
“I just woke up, Sherlock,” John warned. “What was the bastard trying to ruin up here?”
“Actually, this is a bit of a rest stop. We have been working without respite for months.”
John spared Sherlock a quick glance before his eyes went back to the sky. “I thought you had that scheduled for when you were dead.”
“Well, since I am technically dead…” John huffed. “And I do have you to consider,” Sherlock added. “If you had collapsed in the departure lounge, they wouldn’t have let us on the plane.”
“Thanks. Kick a bloke when’s he’s down,” John said, but the smile never left his face.
“Kick? Never,” Sherlock replied as he stepped behind John. “Drink the rest of the water. This is the driest place in the world.”
“Hm,” John said, looking at the bottle at the end of his arm, “yeah.” He emptied it and leaned back. He could feel the warmth of Sherlock standing just far enough away not to touch. “Well, you were right again, as usual.” John could hear Sherlock’s breathing being shaped differently by his smile. “How long can we stay?”
“For a while,” Sherlock answered, leaning forward to pull the coat closed around John.
“Expressed with scientific precision,” John said, tilting his head back until it hit Sherlock’s shoulder. “You’re hiding something from me and I’m too awed by the sky to care. That was deliberate, I suppose.”
“You know me, John. Most things I do are deliberate,” Sherlock replied and one of his hands slid beneath the coat.
“Ah,” John said, “distracting me with stargazing so you can take liberties with my person.”
“Precisely,” Sherlock agreed. “The road was mostly empty. It was hard not to contemplate you curled up in the backseat.”
“Warm thoughts, were they?”
Sherlock’s fingers crept under the sleeve of John’s jumper in reply. “I think you were having a rather pleasant dream at one point,” Sherlock said.
John searched for a memory of it, but didn’t find anything. “Surprising considering what we left behind.” Sherlock’s grip on John tightened.
**********
Despite the short distance, John had fallen asleep sitting up in the passenger seat. Sherlock opened the vehicle door slowly. John started.
“We’re here,” Sherlock whispered.
John blinked and ran his hand over his face. “Good,” he said quietly, following Sherlock’s lead. “Are we breaking into someplace?” John asked, stepping down, hand on the door for support.
“No,” Sherlock replied, clicking the jeep’s door shut with a quiet push. “I’ve got the codes.”
“Why?” John asked, glancing into the back seat.
“I designed their computer security system,” Sherlock answered, stepping away. “Come. We’ll leave the cognac. I’ve set our other things inside by the elevator already.”
John focussed on the slightly less dark shape of Sherlock’s back and followed him into the silent lobby.
“Dormitory?” John asked as they waited by the glowing arrow of the elevator.
“No, this is a small hotel for visitors, away from the observatories. Film crew left yesterday. We’ll have it to ourselves for a bit,” Sherlock replied as the elevator doors sighed open.
“Emergency power?” John asked as the cubicle rose, lit only by the buttons on the control panel and their reflections in the mirrored walls.
“Conserving generator fuel and minimising light pollution,” Sherlock replied. The doors opened on an equally dark top floor. John stepped out, spotted the strip of tiny white lights along the floor and reached back in for a case. “Left,” Sherlock directed. “You all right with that?”
“My head feels clearer,” John replied. “Fever’s gone, I think.”
“Good,” Sherlock said, shifting the larger case into the hall. John heard the smile and followed the voice along the corridor.
“Here,” Sherlock murmured, lowering the case by an upward pointing green arrow and punching in a code. John thought Sherlock reached inside the door. There was a click and a soft whirr and Sherlock pulled John forward by the elbow. Cool air flowed into the hallway. “Mind the threshold,” Sherlock said. He nudged John further forward when he stopped just past the doorway to watch the ceiling sliding open.
“It’s better lying down and looking up,” Sherlock said when John stopped again. “The edge of the bed is four paces straight ahead.”
John’s knees hit the mattress in six paces. Sherlock had used his own strides to measure. John sat, took off his shoes and slid back onto the bed. Sherlock dropped his coat over John. Various snappings and unzippings indicated Sherlock's shifting location as he moved sure-footed about the rooms in the dark. The whirring stopped. The ceiling had disappeared into the walls. The Milky Way arched across the sky. John thought he might not be able to turn his eyes away.
Cool fingertips sparkled against John’s skin. Layer after layer of warm cloth was peeled away. Chill air curled under the coat. John took a deep breath. Galaxies gleamed from aeons away. Moist lips pressed against John’s ankle, soft hair tickled his calf, his knee, firm hands glided up his legs, settled at his hips. The lips followed.
John’s whole body wanted to rise. Sherlock pulled away. Some sound of protest passed John’s lips and Sherlock slid upwards, emerged from the top of the coat to respond. “I want to finish another way,” he murmured in John’s ear.
John almost closed his eyes. The points of light blurred together. Sherlock’s tongue touched the edges of John’s ear. One of John’s legs hooked over the coat, wool ticklish on his bare skin as he clamped down on Sherlock’s thighs underneath.
“May I?”
“Any way you wish,” John said, hips lifting them both off the bed. The stars were leaning closer. “Only soon.”
Sherlock raised himself on his elbows, looked down at John.
John looked back. The stars glimmered through Sherlock’s curls. John lifted his hips again.
“Not too soon,” Sherlock said.
The coat had fallen to one side. John’s feet were over Sherlock’s shoulders. Sherlock’s hands were behind John’s shoulders, holding him steady, pulling him down. Sherlock’s hips rolled. John moaned again and Sherlock rolled his hips again. John’s neck arched backwards. “Sound carries in the desert,” Sherlock whispered and rolled his hips once more. John pressed his lips together and tried to hold the sound in. “This should help,” Sherlock said and leaned his head down to cover John’s lips with his own. Sherlock’s hands gripped John’s shoulders and Sherlock’s hips began circling without a pause.
Beneath Sherlock’s lips, John opened his mouth and closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids, he saw the stars rain down.
*****
The ceiling was closed when John awoke, over the glass panels dark shades were drawn. The desert sun seeped into the room from every edge. John sat up squinting, found Sherlock hunched over his laptop at a small desk.
“I brought up food,” Sherlock said, without looking away from his computer. “Come eat.”
“Did you eat any?” John asked, sitting up. After a moment, he swung his legs out of the bed.
“Some.”
“Did you sleep any?” John asked, walking over in his open shirt and nothing else.
“Some.”
John picked up a banana from a bowl of fruit, leaned against Sherlock’s shoulder as he peeled it.
“You feeling all right?” Sherlock asked, glancing up.
“Rather well, actually,” John replied. Sherlock smiled and went back to typing. “God, your ego.” Sherlock’s smile broadened, but he kept tapping at his keyboard. John stepped away to check the temperature of a metal teapot on the desk.
“Should still be hot. Filled it a couple minutes ago. There’s a kettle on the bureau, if you want it hotter.”
John glanced at the bureau, used the water from the teapot to make his tea. “So if Moriarty wasn’t perpetrating evil up here, who or what are we here to see?” John asked.
A telephone on the nightstand rang. “Can you get that?” Sherlock said. “It may answer your question.”
John’s eyebrows drew together, but he walked to the telephone. “Hello,” he said.
“Good afternoon,” a cheery voice responded. “Dr Holmes and Dr Bertrand are looking forward to seeing you at tea in the dining hall. In the meantime, do you have everything you need?”
“Ah, yes. Thank you. I believe we have everything.” John looked to Sherlock who was intent on his laptop screen.
“See you at five o’clock, then,” the happy voice said.
“Yes, ‘til then,” John replied before the line cut. He put down the phone and sat on the bed.
“Bertrand's here," John said.
"I could hear."
"And who might this Dr Holmes be?” John asked.
Sherlock continued typing. “My father,” he replied.
The next part, Carbonado, may be read here.