pennytothesky asked: Young!Sherlock and John… In the post-apocalyptic wasteland.
It doesn’t have to be three sentences right
good
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“I’m glad to be with you … here at the end of all things”
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“Sherlock.”
Sherlock blinked his way into consciousness slowly. He’d climbed through John’s window late last night and he was still catching up on sleep. But John’s voice was always enough to wake him. Especially if it was tinged with fear and worry, like now.
“What is it, what’s happened,” he murmured, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He rubbed his eyes before opening them entirely, and settling them on John, who was standing at the window, staring out into the nothingness beyond.
Nothingness. That wasn’t right.
Sherlock sat up and shuffled over to the window, squinting out into the brightness.
“Everything’s disappeared,” John said softly. “Everything, overnight, just like that.”
Don’t be stupid, Sherlock’s brain told him to say. That’s impossible, things don’t just disappear, there is a logical explanation for this.
He was silent. John was right; outside the window, where there was usually a street and houses and people walking their dogs or doing whatever it was that people did on Saturday mornings, there was … nothing. Just earth.
Sherlock swallowed, an unfamiliar feeling of helplessness curling in his chest.
“What are we supposed to do?” John said hoarsely. “Everything’s gone - school, shops, our friends - Harry …” He turned to look at Sherlock, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. “What if we’re the only ones … ?”
Sherlock blinked, reached out a hand, pulled John back towards the bed. John followed blindly, allowing himself to be folded up in Sherlock’s limbs and rolled back under the blankets, burying his head in Sherlock’s shoulder.
“Perhaps,” Sherlock said softly, “if we stay in here for a bit, we can persuade ourselves that this is a bad dream. Even though such a situation is laughably improbable.” He sighed, tightening his arms around John. “It’s better than the alternative.”
John took a deep breath, clinging to fistfuls of Sherlock’s shirt, grounding himself in the familiarity of Sherlock’s scent. “I’m glad it’s you I woke up with at the end of the world.”
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pennytothesky reblogged this from matureandresponsible and added:
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