Date: 2019-01-14 03:28 am (UTC)
seaweed_writes: (Default)
Sherlock watched John go upstairs with great interest. Usually it was easy for him to know what people were doing to do, deduce their reasoning and movements.

But John, John had always been an enigma, a puzzle to solve, and even after 3 months of living with him, he still couldn't crack the riddle.

He watched, enamored, when John came down with something wrapped in fabric. It was easy to tell what it was by the shape. It was a sword, and not a small one by any means. It looked to be a broadsword by its shape and length, equally adept at being wielded with either one or two hands.

Sherlock tried to look away from the sword, to look back towards John, but he found that he couldn't. His eyes were drawn to it, his entire body was.

Without even realizing it, or knowing why, he stood up from his chair and walked over to the still covered sword. He could swear that it was glowing under the fabric. He was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, he needed to touch it, to raise it, to wield it.

He managed a quick look over to John before his eyes were drawn back to the sword- his look said with no words 'what is this, and why must I hold it in my hands?'
This account has disabled anonymous posting.
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.
More info about formatting

Profile

ihadabadday: (Default)
John Watson

2025

S M T W T F S

Style Credit

Page generated Jun. 3rd, 2025 12:49 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags

Most Popular Tags