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221b_recs2013-01-30 11:30 pm
butterflyweb.livejournal.com) wrote in 221b_recs2013-01-30 11:30 pm
Fic: Most Ghosts are Idiots
Title: Most Ghosts Are Idiots
Author: GoldenUsagi
Pairing: Gen
Length: 18234
Rating: Teen
Warnings: past character death (obvs)
Verse: Sherlock BBC
Author's summary: The one where Sherlock is already dead but hits it off with John anyway. John returns from Afghanistan later than he did in canon and rents a long vacant flat in Baker Street. But it has a few problems, he discovers, such as the ghost of Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock throws books about, plays the violin at all hours, and leaves ominous messages on the bathroom mirror. John settles in regardless, determined not to let a haunted flat get the best of him. Though he does wish Sherlock would stop hiding his cane. Sherlock’s not an ordinary ghost, but then, most ghosts are idiots.
Reccer's comments: Oh man, I can't believe this hasn't been recced on here yet! What I think I love most about this fic, is that GoldenUsagi manages to pull off an alternate meeting (and a supernatural one!) that feels every bit as authentic to the characters and material of A Study in Pink, without it being a carbon copy of the episode. Sherlock communicating in morse code and John replying to poltergeist activity with an eyeroll and opening of his newspaper--classic. Mycroft is perfectly on point as well, and trust the Holmes brothers to take sibling rivalry beyond the grave. And finally, the end will leaving you clutching your chest with the understated perfection of it all.
The bangs were slow and unhurried. Sometimes they would seem to stop, only to start back up again. An hour later, John was still staring at the ceiling.
“Bit juvenile, this,” he finally said aloud. “Not to mention unoriginal. Got some chains to rattle next, do you?”
The banging stopped. It was blissfully quiet before a rapid fire of bangs sounded off, louder and faster than before.
John huffed. Looked like he’d made his ghost mad. Well, it wasn’t like he’d been getting any sleep before. As the noise continued, something pinged in the back of John’s mind. The sound was regular, almost like—
Dash dash dash. Dot dot dash dot. Dot dot dash dot. Dot dash dash dot—
For a moment, John was floored. But as he listened again, there was no mistaking it. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
Instead, he raised his voice and said, “Why don’t you piss off?”
The noise stopped. John didn’t hear anything else for the rest of the night.
Author: GoldenUsagi
Pairing: Gen
Length: 18234
Rating: Teen
Warnings: past character death (obvs)
Verse: Sherlock BBC
Author's summary: The one where Sherlock is already dead but hits it off with John anyway. John returns from Afghanistan later than he did in canon and rents a long vacant flat in Baker Street. But it has a few problems, he discovers, such as the ghost of Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock throws books about, plays the violin at all hours, and leaves ominous messages on the bathroom mirror. John settles in regardless, determined not to let a haunted flat get the best of him. Though he does wish Sherlock would stop hiding his cane. Sherlock’s not an ordinary ghost, but then, most ghosts are idiots.
Reccer's comments: Oh man, I can't believe this hasn't been recced on here yet! What I think I love most about this fic, is that GoldenUsagi manages to pull off an alternate meeting (and a supernatural one!) that feels every bit as authentic to the characters and material of A Study in Pink, without it being a carbon copy of the episode. Sherlock communicating in morse code and John replying to poltergeist activity with an eyeroll and opening of his newspaper--classic. Mycroft is perfectly on point as well, and trust the Holmes brothers to take sibling rivalry beyond the grave. And finally, the end will leaving you clutching your chest with the understated perfection of it all.
The bangs were slow and unhurried. Sometimes they would seem to stop, only to start back up again. An hour later, John was still staring at the ceiling.
“Bit juvenile, this,” he finally said aloud. “Not to mention unoriginal. Got some chains to rattle next, do you?”
The banging stopped. It was blissfully quiet before a rapid fire of bangs sounded off, louder and faster than before.
John huffed. Looked like he’d made his ghost mad. Well, it wasn’t like he’d been getting any sleep before. As the noise continued, something pinged in the back of John’s mind. The sound was regular, almost like—
Dash dash dash. Dot dot dash dot. Dot dot dash dot. Dot dash dash dot—
For a moment, John was floored. But as he listened again, there was no mistaking it. He almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
Instead, he raised his voice and said, “Why don’t you piss off?”
The noise stopped. John didn’t hear anything else for the rest of the night.