Fic Rec: The Cornish Cottage

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Title: The Cornish Cottage

Author: flawedamythyst

Pairing: Sherlock/John

Length: 32,700 words

Rating: Teen

Warnings: None

Verse: Sherlock BBC

Author's summary: In the wake of John's divorce, Sherlock tries to cheer him up with a trip to Cornwall.

Adaptation of ACD's The Adventure of the Devil's Foot.

Reccer's comments: FA is one of my favorite fandom authors, so much so that I bid on her in the Help_Syria auction and won! This is the story she wrote for me. Although I would have recced it anyway, I'm just stating full disclosure up front!

The Adventure of the Devil's Foot is one of my favorite canon stories, so I asked FA to write me a Sherlock/John get-together fic, wrapped in a modern retelling of that particular case. I also requested for it to take place post-Return, after John has either been widowed or divorced. The story was written before the airing of Series 3, so it is now an AU.

At any rate, one of the things I like the most about FA's stories is her Sherlock characterization. Her portrayals always resonate with me as very true to how Sherlock would actually behave and speak. He's never too sentimental, nor is he too sociopathic. I see clear evidence in the show of Sherlock caring a great deal for certain people in his life, and this author does a fantastic job of showing that without sacrificing his detached cool exterior.

In canon, it's Sherlock who is convinced to go on holiday to Cornwall for his health. FA flips that premise here by having John be the one who needs a holiday, specifically to recover from the emotional turmoil he experiences after his marriage ends. Sherlock takes it upon himself to arrange for them to stay at the summer cottage that belonged to his parents but was passed down to Mycroft. Of course a bizarre case presents itself while they're there, along with some revelations about Sherlock and Mycroft's family history. The story is told from Sherlock's POV, which I dearly love and which FA does amazingly well. The story is Sherlock/John, but most of the story is pre-slash with a gradual revealing of mutual feelings. It ends on a quiet note, with a hopeful anticipation of where the two of them will go from here. Just so, so lovely, on so many levels.

The next stages of the plan were easy enough to put into place. Sherlock informed Mrs. Hudson that he and John were going to be away for a week. She clasped her hands together and told him how nice that would be.

“Don't mention it to John,” he said. “I haven't told him yet.”

“Oh, a surprise trip!” she exclaimed. “How lovely! That's so sweet of you, Sherlock.”

Sherlock couldn't remember ever having been described as sweet before. He wondered if Mrs. Hudson was starting to succumb to senile dementia.

He looked up trains to Cornwall, which was the sort of thing he usually left to John but which turned out to be easier than he'd expected, although also more expensive. Surely it would be cheaper to just charter a plane to fly them down there?

A quick Google search revealed that the answer to that was 'no'. He scowled at the internet and booked the train tickets. He also arranged a hire car for when they arrived and then sat back in his chair, wondering why a holiday had to be so complicated.

John arrived home very late and went straight to collapse into his chair. “Whichever bastard invented clinical governance paperwork deserves to be shot.”

Sherlock regarded him carefully. All eight of the signs that John required a cup of tea were present, and yet he had not headed to the kettle. Ah, but five out of six signs that he was mentally and physically exhausted were also present. That explained it.

Sherlock put his laptop to one side, first taking care to minimise the window showing Fun Things To Do in Cornwall!, none of which had struck Sherlock as being any fun at all.

“Would you like tea?” he asked.

John gave him a disbelieving stare, but nodded. “Please.”

Sherlock stood and headed for the kitchen. Tea was one of the more traditional ways of showing support for a friend in distress and one he could manage easily enough.

“I must look really shit for you to offer,” said John. His voice sounded lighter than it had and Sherlock congratulated himself on improving his mood, at least for the present.

“I am capable of making tea,” he pointed out. “I have made it for you several times before.”

“Yeah, but probably only about once every three months,” said John. “Mind you, it does mean I'm well-trained. When I first moved in with Mary, she told me how lovely it was that I always made the tea without expecting her to do it.”

His voice had been light as he'd said that, but when Sherlock glanced over his shoulder to gauge his expression, it had fallen into grief-stricken lines. He scowled at the mugs as he got them out. It had only taken one mention of Mary to destroy all of Sherlock’s progress. Not acceptable.