221b_recs | Fic Rec: The Grey Matter

Title: The Grey Matter
Author: anchors
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Length: 19,836
Rating: Teen
Warnings: None
Verse: Sherlock BBC
Author's summary: Written for the FuckYeahJohnlockFanfic blog's August CaseFic/Experiment Contest. Sherlock is hired by his brother to find a cure for the strange phenomenon John Watson has unwittingly brought into their world, but it's immediately clear there's more to this case - and more to this man - than meets the eye. AU, ish.

Reccer's comments: Okay, I swear I will be reccing stories that are not AU, but I had to include this one in my month's quota. I highly recommend any and all of anchors' Sherlock stories.

I wouldn't really call this magical realism, since the premise is very much based on science, but there is a bit of that flavour to it. In this universe, the world is perceived only in shades of black and white. Until John Watson is found wounded and bleeding, and the blood can be seen in a colour never before encountered - red. The ability to see this colour.. and any other.. seems to be passed on like an 'infection.' Sherlock is called in by his brother to solve this mystery and come up with a 'cure.'

The problem is, John Watson doesn't want to be cured. In fact, he wants to spread this ability to the rest of the world. And he wants Sherlock to help him. Sherlock is hesitant, but not for the reason John thinks he is. In the midst of all this, of course, romance slowly blooms.

Excerpt: "John," he breathes, and steps even closer, the space between them diminishing to a bare few centimeters as Sherlock's shadow falls across his face, breath fast across his cheek. John leans back, confusion coloring his face.

"What?"

"Your eyes." He breathes the words like a prayer. With a so far unseen delicacy he reaches out and grips John's shoulders, turning him into the living room. He points him at the mirror. "Look."

John does, and nearly chokes on his next inhale. Blue, blue, and he'd forgotten about the scarf but there it is again staring back at him from his own eyes, impossibly dark and varied and it's so different from the red, almost opposite in how deep and light it is, all at once. Where the red is rich and vibrant, the blue is calm and manifold, like layers, and it's -

"Blue," John manages. "It's called blue."

"Beautiful," Sherlock murmurs from over his shoulder, and John can only nod in response, the both of them staring for longer than they know, watching their reflections stare back, and the piercing blue reflected within.

And in a totally unrelated side note, I seem to have made the 666th journal entry. Good thing I'm not superstitious :)