Fic Rec: Rate of Change

[rachelindeed.livejournal.com]

Title: Rate of Change
Author: ristrettoette
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Length: 2,575 words
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Verse: Sherlock BBC
Author's summary: In which there are broken violins, horology, and some mention of ancient code-breaking. Also, far too much philosophizing, and a second person narrator.

Reccer's comments: It’s a recurrent theme in most versions of Sherlock Holmes (from the original onward) to compare the man to a machine; this story offers a fresh and engaging take on that metaphor. The author thinks about how Sherlock sees the world, starting with a child’s-eye view in which he doesn’t understand the mechanisms by which change happens, either in himself or in the world around him. Throughout his life he continues to be frustrated by his inability to gather all the infinite data around him until he can chart every cause and predict every effect. More importantly, he longs to examine his own insides like the gears of a clock and comprehend every impulse that tries to move him. The story examines his struggle to allow himself to be happy, to come to terms with the opacity of his own motives and desires.

“The heart has its reasons, of which reason knows nothing.” (Blaise Pascal)

This author has a wonderful writing style, lyrical without being flowery or overdone. The prose is thick, clear, and rich. The dialogue catches the voices of the actors, especially John, as straightforward and naturalistic – a nice contrast to the more stylized narrative voice surrounding them. The second person narrative really works well in this story, helping you to feel how Sherlock constantly observes himself rather than comfortably inhabiting himself. A beautiful character study.



Excerpt:

"You'll have to define your terms."

"Like. How'm I supposed to define 'like'? You just like something."

He looks frustrated, and you feel it is a delicate situation. You consider the layout of the field, charting the likely land mines beneath. "I find it rewarding to solve puzzles, of which this is one. My mind is wired for it. It's pleasing."

"Okay, but -- " He stops. He looks unhappy. "Surely even you can like something, without knowing why, without there being a reason."

"I always know why."

But you are lying. You shy away from that dark mechanism within you that spins and clicks and sets you liking. You must distrust any process that you cannot see. It's stage magic, apt to be took for the miraculous. If you were wise enough, you would perceive how it works. So you grind your teeth and it grates on you that you could feel so helpless. That you could be subject to the same flimflammery.

Comments

[bowl-of-glow.livejournal.com]

It's a cheap watch and the innards are tawdry. But he's right, of course; it was already working. You could tell its gears by their faint industrial colour. You just opened it up because you wanted to see. You laid it side by side with your own watch-- not the one you wear, but your father's Patek Philippe. The movements were impossible to mix up, and yet you did so. One wheel for another. It stopped both watches ticking. You put them back the way they were, and couldn't quantify your sorrow. For a moment you had envisioned that one cheap wheel forever embedded, cheerful, spinning.

Oh, this was beautiful. Thanks for the rec.