Being Human
28 September 2011 06:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladygrendelTitle: Being Human
Fandom: Sherlock BBC & Neil Gaiman's Sandman
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock Holmes, Death, a dead cabbie
Warnings: minor character death (not explicit)
Spoilers: "A Study in Pink"
Summary: The difference between leading an immortal life and living a mortal life was astounding - even Death, who spent one day every century as a human, would never be able to comprehend Sherlock's point of view
"Are you done?" she asked, peevish.
Sherlock withdrew his foot and the cabbie moaned in response. The secret name thrummed through his body like a shot of adrenaline with each beat of his heart - Moriarty, Moriarty, Moriarty.
"Quite done," said Sherlock curtly.
Death moved to stand at his side and they stared down at the body together. Judging by the amount of blood oozing out onto the floor and the man's shallow breathing, Sherlock easily deduced that the cabbie wasn't long for this world.
"He belongs to Morningstar, I presume?"
"You can't kill four people and assume there aren't any consequences," said Death with a shrug. She seemed a little tense, but he paid it no mind. There was a pregnant pause as they just observed the dying man, and then Sherlock lost his patience.
"Well? Was the pill poisonous or wasn't it?"
"Why?" she snapped back. "Would that have made taking it okay? A good idea?"
"I need to know if I chose the right pill," said Sherlock stubbornly.
Death's eyes blazed but he didn't back down. She jabbed him in the chest with an imperious finger and snarled:
"Just because you can't die doesn't mean you can't become laid up in a hospital bed 'til the end of the universe. I'll even let Mycroft become your permanent nanny. I'm sure he'd love to have the job."
"Are you threatening me?"
“No, I’m warning you, Dream. You’re not some superhuman with magical healing powers, so stop acting like it!”
“You don’t understand,” he said, desperate. “Risking your life is part of being human.”
“Well, it’s just stupid.”
She didn’t understand, couldn’t. None of his siblings could, and therein lay the problem. The difference between leading an immortal life and living a mortal one was astounding. Even Death, who spent one day every century living as a human, would never be able to comprehend Sherlock’s point of view.
“Uh, excuse me?”
The cabbie appeared very confused, and he hadn’t even noticed his own corpse yet. All of Death’s anger and frustration drained away immediately as she put on her usual perky smile. It tended to put the newly deceased at ease.
“Hello, Jeff.”
“Hullo,” he replied cautiously. He glanced from Death to Sherlock and back again without a trace of recognition.
“It’s time to go, Jeff,” said Death, holding out her hand.
He hesitated for a brief second before accepting it. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze which caused the cabbie to give her a shaky smile in return. Sherlock had no doubt that if the man knew what exactly he was in for he would be a great deal less cooperative.
“We’ll finish this discussion later,” she told him sharply, leaving no room for argument. She and the cabbie vanished into thin air with the blink of an eye.
Sherlock wandered over to the window and gently brushed the bullet hole with his fingertips. In the distance he could hear sirens approaching. It seemed that someone had put in a call to Scotland Yard’s finest who had at least one ambulance following close behind. He really hoped that they would spare him the embarrassment of a shock blanket, and wondered if John had been the one to make the call.
>>>>>
Next: The Sound of Her Wings
Fandom: Sherlock BBC & Neil Gaiman's Sandman
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock Holmes, Death, a dead cabbie
Warnings: minor character death (not explicit)
Spoilers: "A Study in Pink"
Summary: The difference between leading an immortal life and living a mortal life was astounding - even Death, who spent one day every century as a human, would never be able to comprehend Sherlock's point of view
"Are you done?" she asked, peevish.
Sherlock withdrew his foot and the cabbie moaned in response. The secret name thrummed through his body like a shot of adrenaline with each beat of his heart - Moriarty, Moriarty, Moriarty.
"Quite done," said Sherlock curtly.
Death moved to stand at his side and they stared down at the body together. Judging by the amount of blood oozing out onto the floor and the man's shallow breathing, Sherlock easily deduced that the cabbie wasn't long for this world.
"He belongs to Morningstar, I presume?"
"You can't kill four people and assume there aren't any consequences," said Death with a shrug. She seemed a little tense, but he paid it no mind. There was a pregnant pause as they just observed the dying man, and then Sherlock lost his patience.
"Well? Was the pill poisonous or wasn't it?"
"Why?" she snapped back. "Would that have made taking it okay? A good idea?"
"I need to know if I chose the right pill," said Sherlock stubbornly.
Death's eyes blazed but he didn't back down. She jabbed him in the chest with an imperious finger and snarled:
"Just because you can't die doesn't mean you can't become laid up in a hospital bed 'til the end of the universe. I'll even let Mycroft become your permanent nanny. I'm sure he'd love to have the job."
"Are you threatening me?"
“No, I’m warning you, Dream. You’re not some superhuman with magical healing powers, so stop acting like it!”
“You don’t understand,” he said, desperate. “Risking your life is part of being human.”
“Well, it’s just stupid.”
She didn’t understand, couldn’t. None of his siblings could, and therein lay the problem. The difference between leading an immortal life and living a mortal one was astounding. Even Death, who spent one day every century living as a human, would never be able to comprehend Sherlock’s point of view.
“Uh, excuse me?”
The cabbie appeared very confused, and he hadn’t even noticed his own corpse yet. All of Death’s anger and frustration drained away immediately as she put on her usual perky smile. It tended to put the newly deceased at ease.
“Hello, Jeff.”
“Hullo,” he replied cautiously. He glanced from Death to Sherlock and back again without a trace of recognition.
“It’s time to go, Jeff,” said Death, holding out her hand.
He hesitated for a brief second before accepting it. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze which caused the cabbie to give her a shaky smile in return. Sherlock had no doubt that if the man knew what exactly he was in for he would be a great deal less cooperative.
“We’ll finish this discussion later,” she told him sharply, leaving no room for argument. She and the cabbie vanished into thin air with the blink of an eye.
Sherlock wandered over to the window and gently brushed the bullet hole with his fingertips. In the distance he could hear sirens approaching. It seemed that someone had put in a call to Scotland Yard’s finest who had at least one ambulance following close behind. He really hoped that they would spare him the embarrassment of a shock blanket, and wondered if John had been the one to make the call.
>>>>>
Next: The Sound of Her Wings