Title: The Quiet Man Author: ivyblossom
Word Count: 157,369 Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
John Watson has moved on past Sherlock’s death. He’s dating Mary, he has therapy sessions, and he thought he had finally said goodbye. His life is good, but every so often, Sherlock wanders back into his mind, and John realizes that his best friend is going away. As John moves through the stages of grief, thoughts of Sherlock keep the consulting detective all-too-alive in John’s mind. How does he say goodbye to someone who’s never really gone? The more accurate question: how do you say goodbye to someone who isn’t really dead?
Every once in a great while, a fanfic comes along that is so bloody good that I forget that it isn’t canon. This was one of those fics. Ivyblossom creates a story so believable and so beautifully written that I still want to believe that it’s what really happened. I particularly appreciated her treatment of John’s stream-of-consciousness POV; it’s not one I’ve seen often done and I think it worked very well for the story. *spoilers* This is a romance fic. John slowly realizes his feelings for Sherlock while he is grieving, and once Sherlock returns from the “dead,” well, let’s just say it’s the reunion I’m going to pretend they really had. It’s a novel-length fic, so it’ll keep you occupied for a few days (unless you’re like me…it was a matter of hours because I was so wrapped up in it!) Here’s a snippet:
We should have done this years ago. It would have been all right, you know. We would have laughed more, I’m sure. It would have been bizarre, and funny, and awkward. Maybe we wouldn’t have been as certain. We would have worked it out. We waited too long. We made it mean so much I can barely breathe. Three years without you, Sherlock. I don’t think I ever stopped thinking about leaning over and kissing you. But it was never like this in the fantasy, somehow. You weren’t there, and even the most intense fantasy had an emptiness to it, I can see that now. It was only a sketch, it was an outline. It’s all coloured in between the lines now, full of texture and sound. And smell: your triple-milled soap, toothpaste, coffee, and that underlying rich smell that could only be your skin. Your technicolour skin. I can feel it. Jesus.
Well worth the read if you like novel-length, angsty, romantic Johnlock fics. This one has moved into my top 3 Johnlock fics, right behind “Alone on the Water.” Until next week, shippers. -The Collectress