After Sherlock died, John sold himself in service to a fairy lady. When he returns, it’s been three years for Sherlock, but it’s been much, much longer than three years for John.
I just. God. This is sublime. I seriously can’t. Dear lord, what the writer’s done to John. The price he’s paid, so much that he doesn’t even see it, or even entirely care. He’s lived with the fairies for so long that he’s nearly become one himself. You can feel the weight of the centuries scrolling back behind him, the suffering and pleasures he must have faced, the mind-warping strangeness he must have encountered and above all, the desire to forget and and leave old pains behind, so strong that he welcomed it all and took it into himself and LET it change him.
This fic doesn’t have a name, and it’s not finished, but there’s only one part left and the writer has been posting about once a month, so the last part is likely to go up quite soon. Frankly it’s too soon for me. I want more of everything in this story, from the strange creature John has become to the uncanny glimpses of Faerie to Sherlock and his rage and grief. More of this breathtaking writing.
This fic is exquisite, fey and beautiful and so, so cuttingly sharp. Watch your fingers on that edge, or you’ll be bleeding before you even know.
BBC Sherlock rec: John goes with the fairies