ariadne_chan: (johnlock)
[personal profile] ariadne_chan
Title: “The Fortress and The Mind Palace Rebuild.”
Author: [livejournal.com profile] ariadnechan
Rating: PG.
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Characters: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, John Watson/ Mary Morstan.
Summary: The Mind Palace is a bloody mess destroyed by the neurobasher, John can hear him ripped it apart, but he can't stand it anymore to see Sherlock going down with it.
Warnings: Some pre-slash, not identified time after hiatus, some magic realism or poetic prose.
Word Count: 817 words Approx.
Author's Notes: Prompt of [livejournal.com profile] watsons_woesRandom play: Put your MP3 player on shuffle, turn on the radio, or otherwise tune into a random stream of music. Use the fifth song in the playlist as your inspiration : Neurobashing by Front 242, Tyrany from you. http://youtu.be/Mfs5Km0kpyo
Beta: Now betaed by my amazing friend [livejournal.com profile] mildred_bobbin.
Master Fic for this challenge: on LJ



Sherlock had his hands on his head on the couch, his face was contorted, filled with pain. It was the second week since they had a case, any case, even a dull one.


Sometime, after Sherlock had comeback, they had started to work together again. They had troubles of course, even if John had worked hard in his absence to clean Sherlock’s name thinking in his dead friend. His return to life had caused a backslash from press and the Met was not so open to give them cases as before.


John was not living at 221B Baker Street anymore and Sherlock was alone with his mind doing nothing for him. John Watson knew now that Sherlock had spent a very hard time outside London, as hard as he had, he was still resentful because the detective didn't took him to fight at his side. Life would have been a lot different then and now, if they had been together.


Sherlock was more unstable than John had never seen him before. Lestrade had said to him, that he'd been like when he'd met him and that he was as close to a drug relapse as he'd ever been.


John was in pain too. He knew that Sherlock's brain was short-circuiting with too many information; his Mind Palace sometimes was a Mind Mess. The Doctor knew because his heart was the same.


John thought his heart was a fortress which had edified his defenses during his childhood with his drunken father, his broken-heart mother, his broken sister who was bullied even for his parents and he as younger child couldn’t protect effectively. He only could be the pillar, the fortress.


He had tried to become a doctor to help everyone and failed with his father, with his sister, and his mother, so he decided to be soldier in the war not a doctor, he would fight and be a fortress.


Love never entered in a fortress so it never fell. He had many women and some men, but they never really penetrate the fortress, he never sought a long partnership with any, by he took good care of all them, he was a gentleman after all.


But this man before him now had destroyed the fortress of his heart within days, hours of acquaintance? He entered like a soft breeze and pierced a subtle hole with his piercing eyes and with his mad intelligence. Until a big hole was there so big that a fall was enough to destroy the fortress and left John Watson naked in the mess of a broken heart. As a soldier he got up because he had to, he set for little goals for himself and at some point, John Watson convinced himself to build a house and Mary help him to made a garden. He had been happy with her, but she was gone so soon, and he only saw how the flowers died, looking through the window, incapable of feeling anymore.


Sherlock, there in the couch, was the face of desolation of a bloody Mess Palace. John could feel it from the kitchen where he was making tea for both of them; the drums and the industrial music of the Neurobasher, knocking out the walls of his inner world. John couldn't handle it anymore. He could see how everything in Sherlock was being torn apart, and he wondered how he survived out there without his cases when he was alone in some dark place hiding, waiting for weeks. John's heart clenched in pain.


He could feel how everything was falling apart before his eyes and he was falling too. The drums in Sherlock's head were upon him. They were both animals in pain away from their home, houses where sunny and nice. Heavy industrial electronic clubs were fun, but neither were either of these things.


John hadn't noticed but he was facing Sherlock in the couch only centimeters away from his lips. Finally Sherlock looked at him, seeking for a safe heaven and they met in the middle John discovered the password of the palace as a hacker and Sherlock pull the fortress open with a missile.


It was so easy, maybe it always had been and they never knew it, but John knew all the keys for all the doors and passageways, he knew how to rebuild and get better defenses for the Mind Palace. John could bring light to every corner and Sherlock had never fear need fear of losing his way again.


Sherlock knew how to sneak in the fortress John had already knew that, but he also knew how to build a whole new security system; so John could build a better fortress for both of them and the center of it was not cold anymore but full of fire and passion for life.


The violin and the gun made a return and the world was waiting.




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