Series Rec: I Meet You There, and We Go

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Title: I Meet You There, And We Go
Author: irisbleufic
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Length: ~7,000
Rating: R
Warnings: Major Character Death(s)
Verse: Sherlock BBC
Author's summary: Sherlock doesn't believe in second chances, but a last one will suffice.
Part Two: The Half-Open Window
Summary: I'm off in flight towards another light—
Part Three: I Broke Them All for You
Summary: John wonders if the stories they tell each other after dark are memories.
Epilogue: I Dream a Highway (Back to You)
Summary: They'd made no stops, her hip be damned. It's an important errand.

Reccer's comments:
This tragic yet hopeful series has haunted me for months. The prose is spare and understated, at times poetic, befitting Sherlock and John's metaphysical experience in IMYTaWG and IBTAfY. Their relationship has a beauty that is as strong and as indomitable as their souls. Irisbleufic's interlacing of "here" and "there" gives the first part a powerful dramatic impact. "There", explored further in IBTAfY, is both mystery and miracle, fragile and (im)perfect. In THOW and the epilogue of this series, unlike most examples of the genre, we see how most of the cast is affected by the death(s). The characterization is excellent; even in the throes of shock or grief the characters, whether Anderson or Molly, Sally or Mycroft, remain true to themselves. A respectful and moving group portrait.

Excerpt from "I Meet You There":
John is already there, arms strong and sure around him.

Covering him as debris rains down, his breath harsh and frantic against Sherlock's sweat-slicked cheek. It's familiar (shouldn't be, they've never), somehow disarmingly sweet. Warmth blooms, no, burns in Sherlock's chest, seeps out between stuttering pulses: his heart and then John's, his heart and then John's, his heart and then John's.

Excerpt from "The Half-Open Window":
Suddenly, Harry's wine is on the floor, and she's sobbing on Mrs. Hudson's shoulder.

"Hate him a little," Mrs. Hudson murmurs. "If it makes you feel better, I suppose. It's an awfully foolish thing he did. Both of them did, really."

"Sod that," Harry hiccups, and, to Mrs. Hudson's surprise, she's laughing. "How can I bloody well hate my own brother for having fallen arse over teacup for some brilliant wanker who made him feel more alive than he'd felt in years?"

Mrs. Hudson cradles her, rocks her like a child.

"You can't, love. Forgive me. Neither can I."