221b_recs | Fic Rec: Stumbleine (Reply)

Title: Stumbleine
Author: wiggleofjudas
Pairing: Molly/Richard Fox [James Moriarty]
Length: 1,552
Rating: M for violence
Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Canonical Character Death
Verse: Sherlock BBC
Author's summary: A re-telling of Mr. Fox/The Robber Bridegroom in the key of BBC Sherlock.

Reccer's comments: No S3 Spoilers
Death-Tender Molly Hooper shines in these seven 221Bs set in the fairytale-inspired 'verse The Snow Queen. This part of the series can be understood without having read the previous installments, but I do urge you to enjoy them to obtain a fuller view of this gorgeous, terrifying, yet intensely human world.

It can be difficult to do Molly justice, to either make her ineffective and uninteresting, or to swing wildly to an opposite extreme in an effort to "fix" her perceived faults, thereby obliterating the traits that make Molly an engaging character. But in masterful hands, that balance between awkwardness and a core of understated strength is maintained, as Molly reacts to what she finds in her fiancé's ancestral home:

Molly’s skin prickles panic-hot and goes numb, numb. She can’t take her eyes from the hand (her age; more elegant).

If I have to, she thinks, her mind a bloody, beating thing recalling those last, hardest lessons at the death-tender’s cabin: I will. If.

Richard buries the blade in the table and storms up the stairs, lips all disgust. Doesn’t see her.

Never, Molly thinks, saw her.

Before she leaves: her work. She hasn’t time for the science of it (though how she would like to, how good it would feel to find the whats and hows and how-manys, to make a record), but the ritual: that, yes, she can do.

She starts at the table. Lays the hand with the body, rummages in the pouch at her waist, clinks through vials ’til she finds what she wants: distillations of ivy, aloe, yew. Three drops on the forehead, smudged once with her thumb; rites she mouths quiet as she can; relief when she feels the soul rest, release.

On to the next. Again. Until, when she whispers the words that let her hear what’s held back, there is peace.

Throughout the story she will do what must be done (and more), quietly, competently, shunning the easy path.

The prose is spare and poetic in its approach to rhythm and pacing. This adds to the otherworldly character of the 'verse, which has the folk ballad's economy and darkness. Best read in a well-lit room with a valiant tomcat or steadfast terrier by your side.