Rating: Not Rated (I'd say suitable for general audiences or teen)
Verse: Sherlock BBC
Author's summary: I imagine the purloined kidney of Sherlock Holmes: iced, in a rusting cooler, dangling from a long stick slung over the bare shoulders of two native men, transported through the Amazon rain forest to the hidey-hole of a drug runner. Demoted. Destined to filter less rarified blood.
Reccer's comments: This underappreciated little gem is a beautifully executed slice-of-life. Sherlock is immersed in his work. John is, in turn, frustrated, amused and bemused. The story unfolds largely through dialogue, John's words intruding on Sherlock's thoughts (often mid-thought) and vice versa. There is a comfortable, quiet domesticity to their interactions, and it's easy to imagine many a day in Baker Street passing by in exactly this fashion.
"Between Mary and the clinic and your ridiculous pollen obsession, I sometimes think I'd do well to... disappear. Go where no one knows me or Mary. Start fresh. I could do it, you know. I've got money. Pack a bag and go to Venezuela. British Columbia. Tahiti."
He stops talking. He seems to be done.
"If you go to Tahiti," I say, "Would you visit Samuel Wheaton and ask him to respond to my texts? He's assisting at the Harrison Smith Botanical Gardens. A murder investigation hinges on it."
There are no sweeping statements of love or devotion to be found here, just a slow, understated affection that permeates each and every spoken (and unspoken) word.