Reverse Chronology by ivyblossom
May. 9th, 2011 03:24 pmTitle: Reverse Chronology
Author:
ivyblossom
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Length: ~6,200 words
Rating: G
Verse: Sherlock BBC
Author's summary: This is John's blog, during about a 5 month interval. I intended to write a story about the slow blossoming of a relationship, writing it in chronological order, but at the last second I realized of course you'd have to read it in reverse chronology. It's a blog, after all.
Reccer's comments: This is a very funny and endearing story wherein John is at best oblivious and at worst in denial about the true nature of his relationship with Sherlock, even though all and sundry seem to be trying to enlighten him.
We are still perfectly ordinary flatmates, in case you were wondering (I know you were). This evening, Sherlock momentarily used my head to rest his tea cup on while sorting through some papers. While everyone imagines we have this romantic relationship, in reality I'm more like a bit of furniture he's dragged home. He put his feet on my knee while we were watching the telly tonight, too. So consider me more like an end table or a footstool, would you?
Poor, deluded John.
Author:
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Length: ~6,200 words
Rating: G
Verse: Sherlock BBC
Author's summary: This is John's blog, during about a 5 month interval. I intended to write a story about the slow blossoming of a relationship, writing it in chronological order, but at the last second I realized of course you'd have to read it in reverse chronology. It's a blog, after all.
Reccer's comments: This is a very funny and endearing story wherein John is at best oblivious and at worst in denial about the true nature of his relationship with Sherlock, even though all and sundry seem to be trying to enlighten him.
We are still perfectly ordinary flatmates, in case you were wondering (I know you were). This evening, Sherlock momentarily used my head to rest his tea cup on while sorting through some papers. While everyone imagines we have this romantic relationship, in reality I'm more like a bit of furniture he's dragged home. He put his feet on my knee while we were watching the telly tonight, too. So consider me more like an end table or a footstool, would you?
Poor, deluded John.