muir_wolf: (Default)
muir_wolf ([personal profile] muir_wolf) wrote2011-10-26 12:08 am

#OccupyOakland | Sherlock fic

Title: #OWS
Disclaimer: Sherlock isn't mine, etc.
Summary: re: the Occupy Oakland protests.
A/N: Just a little feel better ficlet for sin ♥


#OccupyOakland


Sherlock is quiet as he stands at the window, looking out at the street below. It’s John who’s pacing back and forth, tension rippling through his body, his fingers clenching and unclenching against the wave of helplessness that’s sweeping through him.

“Flash grenades and tear gas,” he hisses, and Sherlock still stands quietly, listening to the pace of footsteps and the way John steps heavier, as if weighed down by something immeasurable. Sherlock stands quietly because his John doesn’t get rattled like this. “It’s bloody America, land of holier-than-thou democracy, and flash grenades and tear gas.

Sherlock turns at that, his long, lean figure moving gracefully as he catches John’s arm, as he brings him to a halt.

“America is no more or less noble than our own exalted England, John,” he says. His lips curve into a smile but his eyes remain solemn, and John meets them squarely. “People make decisions every step of the way. They make choices.”

“And sometimes they fuck everything up?” John says, but the grin he pulls into being is too hard to keep, and it slips away.

“Sometimes,” Sherlock says. He looks John’s face over critically—the worry lines, the dark circles—and shakes his head at him. “You’re in a sorry state, aren’t you?”

“How can you—how can you be this calm about this?” John snaps. “Don’t you find it at least vaguely upsetting that this is happening? That people—people who’ve sworn to protect and serve—are meeting peaceful protests with violence? Isn’t that what all the bloody wars have been about? Isn’t that why I—” his voice catches, and he curses it soundly for it’s weakness, because Sherlock’s—Sherlock’s—

Sherlock’s cupping a hand to the back of John’s neck and studying him thoughtfully. One might almost say affectionately.

“There are people such as yourself in the world, John. People that will never back down from what they believe to be right. I cannot be too afraid for the state of things when you are always willing to rush into the fray and defend us, can I? When there are good men such as yourself?”

John smiles, then, even it’s small and shaky, and he can feel a little of the tension inside him dissipate against the gentle stroke of Sherlock’s thumb against the back of his neck.

“Do you even know about the Occupy Wall Street protests?” he asks after a beat.

Sherlock narrows his eyes and abruptly releases him, turning back to the window. “Back to the murder at hand,” he says, sounding slightly wounded, and John smiles, a little longingly, at Sherlock’s back.



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