I'm not sure if OP or anyone is looking this far back, but I thought I'd post anyway. I wrote this some time ago in response to this prompt but never posted because I never got any farther (I'm much better at the h portion of h/c haha). I want to get some of my old docs out there though, so I've decided to post this anyway.
I may come back to it but at this point, I have so many other projects, it would definitely be quite awhile. I encourage anyone who might want to to continue on with it if you feel like it!
Hopefully, if anyone is reading this, you enjoy it!
The worst part, he thinks, is the pure random nature of it all. He may not be the most cautious of people, but he makes a point to avoid...situations such as these. In his line of work - in every facet of his life - there’s a clear plan and then a precautionary backup plan. Others may not see it, but it’s true. He is careful. He likes the game and the danger but he is in no way masochistic.
Of course, some things never go according to plan.
Some things in life just happen, for whatever reason. Randomness and disorder control the world, no matter how hard he tries to work to the contrary. It’s abhorrent.
Entropy, his mind provides unexpectedly. Suddenly, with the singular thought comes more. A multitude of useless - bloody useless - thoughts enter and bounce around his mind. For a few slow, terrifying moments, he thinks he’ll drown in them. Thoughts of the second law of thermodynamics turn into ones concentrated on the enthalpy and molar mass of gaseous iron pentacarbonyl - a recent compound he read about somewhere...somewhere - turn into thoughts of the relative pH of iron based blood turn into-.
Turn into panic. Pure panic. It only lasts for a moment but it leaves him staggering, blinking rapidly as he stares up into the late evening sky. The scent of blood is around him, meshing horridly with those of the dumpsters and other littered paraphernalia lingering in this dank, generally unused alley way.
He looks over, slowly letting his head fall to the right to focus on his outstretched hand. Belatedly, he realizes it’s shaking and, try as he might, he can’t will it into submission. In fact, his whole body is vibrating with minute tremors. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
He’d managed to turn himself over but he realizes now it was a foolish waste of energy. He’d allowed his lax in judgement to overcome his more logical side - feelings of fear and a desperate need to see anything besides the damp, grey alleyway floor took charge, helping him to spin over. Now he sees how unorganized the whole venture was - he can’t stand up like this.
He takes a breath, then another, cursing his current inadequacy. He’s supposed to be good at tamping down pain, yet here he is, breathing heavily and wincing as he turns himself back onto his stomach, reaching for the nearby alleyway wall as he does so. It’s slow work, and he’d be horribly bored by the whole process if not for the searing pain deep in his abdomen keeping him occupied.
With a lot of grunting and various other noises that he won’t admit to having made, he manages to pull himself up the wall. He rewards himself by leaning his head against the cool rough brick. His eyes close of their own accord and he finds himself drifting for a moment.
Lestrade had called him for a case some time ago. At this point, he can’t say when, exactly, that was. He was on his way to pick up John at the clinic. He was going to save him from whatever menial task he was assigned today. Of course, John didn’t know he was coming, but there was hardly ever a time the doctor had denied him. A few backroads and an unexpected text message later and he found himself here. Wherever here is.
The thought sends a jolt of panic racing up his spine, the feeling of which is enough to break him free from his half-unconscious haze. He blinks himself back to reality, looking around the alleyway once more. He’s near John’s clinic, now, he’s sure. The point had been to take a shortcut, and it had been working well before-. Well. Before.
Fill (1/?) - Randomness, Or, The Unfortunate Forward March of Entropy
I may come back to it but at this point, I have so many other projects, it would definitely be quite awhile. I encourage anyone who might want to to continue on with it if you feel like it!
Hopefully, if anyone is reading this, you enjoy it!
The worst part, he thinks, is the pure random nature of it all. He may not be the most cautious of people, but he makes a point to avoid...situations such as these. In his line of work - in every facet of his life - there’s a clear plan and then a precautionary backup plan. Others may not see it, but it’s true. He is careful. He likes the game and the danger but he is in no way masochistic.
Of course, some things never go according to plan.
Some things in life just happen, for whatever reason. Randomness and disorder control the world, no matter how hard he tries to work to the contrary. It’s abhorrent.
Entropy, his mind provides unexpectedly. Suddenly, with the singular thought comes more. A multitude of useless - bloody useless - thoughts enter and bounce around his mind. For a few slow, terrifying moments, he thinks he’ll drown in them. Thoughts of the second law of thermodynamics turn into ones concentrated on the enthalpy and molar mass of gaseous iron pentacarbonyl - a recent compound he read about somewhere...somewhere - turn into thoughts of the relative pH of iron based blood turn into-.
Turn into panic. Pure panic. It only lasts for a moment but it leaves him staggering, blinking rapidly as he stares up into the late evening sky. The scent of blood is around him, meshing horridly with those of the dumpsters and other littered paraphernalia lingering in this dank, generally unused alley way.
He looks over, slowly letting his head fall to the right to focus on his outstretched hand. Belatedly, he realizes it’s shaking and, try as he might, he can’t will it into submission. In fact, his whole body is vibrating with minute tremors. Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
He’d managed to turn himself over but he realizes now it was a foolish waste of energy. He’d allowed his lax in judgement to overcome his more logical side - feelings of fear and a desperate need to see anything besides the damp, grey alleyway floor took charge, helping him to spin over. Now he sees how unorganized the whole venture was - he can’t stand up like this.
He takes a breath, then another, cursing his current inadequacy. He’s supposed to be good at tamping down pain, yet here he is, breathing heavily and wincing as he turns himself back onto his stomach, reaching for the nearby alleyway wall as he does so. It’s slow work, and he’d be horribly bored by the whole process if not for the searing pain deep in his abdomen keeping him occupied.
With a lot of grunting and various other noises that he won’t admit to having made, he manages to pull himself up the wall. He rewards himself by leaning his head against the cool rough brick. His eyes close of their own accord and he finds himself drifting for a moment.
Lestrade had called him for a case some time ago. At this point, he can’t say when, exactly, that was. He was on his way to pick up John at the clinic. He was going to save him from whatever menial task he was assigned today. Of course, John didn’t know he was coming, but there was hardly ever a time the doctor had denied him. A few backroads and an unexpected text message later and he found himself here. Wherever here is.
The thought sends a jolt of panic racing up his spine, the feeling of which is enough to break him free from his half-unconscious haze. He blinks himself back to reality, looking around the alleyway once more. He’s near John’s clinic, now, he’s sure. The point had been to take a shortcut, and it had been working well before-. Well. Before.