rainer

so mssmithlove1 was doing one of those “send me a pairing and a number and i’ll write a minific” things (i assume she was getting a few requests because she pretty quickly decided that it was too difficult to write while drunk [her liver must be like, a blob of gelatinous ooze]) and i sent johnlock #10 (“things you said that made me feel like shit”), and this is what she comes up with:

“I’m not actually gay.”

Every time.

Every single sodding time.

Every time he says it, even when Sherlock is prepped and ready for it, even though he’s heard it over and over again is still like a bloody punch to the solar plexus, knocking the air from his lungs and the careful mask from his face, startling him out of his pathetic world where he has some small slim possibility that John Watson could ever feel for him what Sherlock feels for John.

It no longer sends him spiraling, thank god, but he’s never able to fully pull himself back together after being thrown off like that, always a little bit off for the remainder of the day, always finding difficulty shaking off the notion that he has zero chance in hell with the love of his life.

Slamming the door to the cab just a bit harder than he knows he should, Sherlock immediately glares down at his mobile pretending to be deep in the case and not in thoughts of John finding and settling down with some faceless woman one day.

“I’m bisexual.”

Startled out of his pretend focus, Sherlock snaps his gaze around to his companion in the taxi, blinking rapidly as John Watson smiles back sheepishly. “What?”

“I’m bisexual,” the army doctor replies with a shrug. “In case you were… I dunno, wondering or something. I’m bi.”

“Oh,” Sherlock replies stupidly because what does one say when their worldview is suddenly flipped on its head and the possibility of… something becomes reality.

“Yeah,” John nods uncomfortably. “Yup.”

“I… alright,” Sherlock says, looking back out the window of the taxi, hoping to hide the smile playing along his lips.

well, first of all, when has it ever “sent him spiraling”? did he supposedly have some sort of existential crisis born of his supposedly unrequited crush every time he heard john say he wasn’t gay? the end of the story, when john admits to being bi and sherlock is thrown for a loop, implies that he didn’t know, so it’s not like he was angsting over the idea that john was denying his true self or some other bullshit.

also if john really is the love of his life, and it seems from the narrative that mary isn’t in the picture, then wouldn’t he be even a little bit satisfied that john is, you know, living with him and spending all his time with him and basically being married to him without the sex? even a little bit?

so that “confession” comes out of fucking nowhere. i know this is a short short story and all, but please, just a bit of narrative integrity, please. (not that i expected much from this one, but it was a ripe opportunity for some a-level melancholy and she catapulted right over it.) also it goes fucking nowhere; so john is uncomfortable making this random statement (for no reason), and doesn’t follow it up with any indicators that he wants to pursue a relationship with sherlock, and sherlock just sort of takes it and his mood lifts a little but then he doesn’t go anywhere, and then it ends? what the fuck kind of lack of closure is that?

plus the usual mediocre writing and grammar mistakes, even in such a tiny document, so there’s that.

ETA: i’m feeling extra petty and small today, so here’s a proper tear-down of that rancid pile of disappointment:

“I’m not actually gay.”

Every time.

Every single sodding time.

Every time he says it, even when Sherlock is prepped and ready for it (meaning there are times that he’s not ready for it? i thought the whole premise was that john always denies his sexuality) even though he’s heard it over and over again is (bad grammar alert) still like a bloody punch to the solar plexus, knocking the air from his lungs and the careful mask from his face, startling him out of his pathetic world where he has some small slim possibility (redundant, but also, one does not “have” a possibility, one encounters a situation in which there is a possibility) that John Watson could ever feel for him what Sherlock feels for John. (this sentence fragment is a hot mess)

It no longer sends him spiraling (i’m having trouble imagining a scenario in which it would ever send him “spiraling”; i mean i know he’s had a crush on john since like forever but it’s not as though his sense of self-worth has ever hinged on john being in love with him), thank god, but he’s never able to fully pull himself back together after being thrown off like that, always a little bit off for the remainder of the day, always finding difficulty shaking off the notion that he has zero chance in hell with the love of his life. (jesus fucking christ, the man is nearly 40 years old, give him a little credit please)

Slamming the door to the cab just a bit harder than he knows (unnecessary; also this is an unclear introduction, e.g., i was under the impression they were getting out of a car) he should, Sherlock immediately glares down at his mobile (,) pretending to be deep (ly engrossed) in the case (what case?) and not in (as opposed to) thoughts of John finding and settling down with some faceless woman one day.

“I’m bisexual.” (where the fucking hell is this coming from? “absolutely nowhere” is my first guess)

Startled out of his pretend focus, Sherlock snaps his gaze around to his companion in the taxi (see, this is exactly what i’m talking about, it should already be clear that they’re in a taxi so as to make this random emphasis unnecessary), blinking rapidly as John Watson smiles back sheepishly. “What?”

“I’m bisexual,” the army doctor (please sit in the corner and think about what you’ve done) replies with a shrug. “In case you were… I dunno, wondering or something. I’m bi.” (why the fuck would he be wondering that? and why mention it now, of all times? what the hell is going on?)

“Oh,” Sherlock replies stupidly (,) because what does one say when their worldview is suddenly flipped on its head and the possibility of…something becomes reality. (i’m about 97% sure sherlock’s entire worldview is not centered around john’s sexuality)

“Yeah,” John nods uncomfortably. “Yup.”

“I… alright,” (Alright) Sherlock says, looking back out the window of the taxi (“back” out the window? i thought he was pretend focusing on his phone; also i get it, they’re in a taxi, shut up about the fucking taxi), hoping to hide the smile playing along his lips. (that’s it? that’s seriously it? “I’m bi.” “Oh.” “Yeah.” “Alright.” what the fuck?)

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