#sand of time

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

The longest hour

Sherlock isn’t perceived as a patient man by most people. What most people has failed to observe, is the fact that when the need for patience is there, Sherlock Holmes is more persistent than most. Just think of all the meticulous experiments he performs, how he’s catalogued 243 different types of tobacco ash, the building of his Mind Palace, which, by the way, is still an ongoing project. 

***

After John left to break it up with Mary, every sound seems to be multiplied. He’s tried to play his violin, but he can’t concentrate. Experiments are out of the question. Time is of the essence, and he needs to keep track of it, but the clock on the mantlepiece drives him crazy with its ticking, so he took out the battery. He has no clue where his watch is, and he doesn’t want to tap his phone screen constantly to count the seconds. 

At the top shelf on the bookcase, he finds what he needs. His grandfather’s old hourglass. It’s dusty and matte. Mrs. Hudson hasn’t been able to reach it when she comes dusting. Sherlock uses the sleeve of his dressing gown to polish the glass and when he’s satisfied, he sets it on the coffee table. The grains start to run through the small passage in the middle. Sherlock looks transfixed at it for a moment, before reality kicks in. 

His last conversation with John, replays in his mind for the umpteenth time. When John had assured Sherlock that everything would be fine. That Mary wouldn’t make any trouble when she realised John was moving out and back to Baker Street. 

“Bring your gun,” Sherlock had pleaded. 

“No, sweetheart. There won’t be any need for it. I’ll be fine. It’ll all be fine, Sherlock,” John had said softly and kissed him. 

Sherlock hated to see John go. He knew more about Mary than John. She was dangerous and unpredictable. Sherlock sent a text to Mycroft the second the front door closed behind John. 

John has gone to Mary. Watch him! SH

The response came after twenty long seconds. 

Of course. MH

***

Sherlock sits in his chair, eyes fixed on the hourglass and the sand running steadily, counting the time. His brain constructs all sorts of disastrous outcomes of John’s encounter with his soon-to-be ex-wife. 

Mary, all dressed in black with a gun in her hand, pointed at John’s head. Mary in her wedding dress with a rifle directed at John’s heart. Mary in a pink negligee straddling John’s hips a pillow pressed over John’s face. 

He needs to stop this!

Mycroft has eyes and ears all over the house, and John will be alert and careful. Sherlock needs to be patient and trust John however hard he finds it. 

“One hour, Sherlock. After that, I’m all yours,” John had promised. 

To Sherlock it seems that the grains are running faster now. He knows they aren’t, but the phrase running out of time, has never felt more accurate. 

Sherlock freezes when he realises that he doesn’t know exactly what John had meant with one hour. Did he need one hour inside with Mary, or did he mean one hour from his departure until he was back?

Sherlock rises and paces back and forth in front of the windows, pulling his hair in frustration. 

He HATES not knowing!

Sherlock’s been so lost in his own head, and startles when someone calls his name. 

John!

He turns from the window and in the doorway stands a smiling John. 

“You’ve been worried,” he states fondly and walks towards Sherlock. 

Sherlock only nods before he almost falls into John’s waiting arms. He closes his eyes, revelling in the proximity, inhales the familiar scent and relaxes completely, breathing freely for the first time that day. 

“I love you, John,” Sherlock murmurs into John’s neck.

“Mm. Me too, love. Me too,” John says and tightens his grip around Sherlock. 

When Sherlock opens his eyes some time later, he registers the last grains in the hourglass running trough the passage, leaving the upper half empty. The hour is at an end and John is home. 

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitchworld @helloliriels @raina-at @peanitbear @brandiwein1982 @topsyturvy-turtely

[jenntastic10]

Tyla & Gunna ‘Jump’ Music Video

[hymn-willow-writes]

' The Promise Of Closure '

just wait there,

where the World river flows,

I'll be the sand of Time,

and reach you when,

the flowers of Oblivion grow .

©HymnWillow

[darkhorse-javert]

The sand(s) of time

@flashfictionfridayofficial

1938 Bamfylde, Devon

“‘How fast the sand of time doth flow’” Howarth's voice was an uneasy whisper in the room, weaker than he felt it should have been, of the common sense of the illness ignored.

Who's is that, Howarth?

“No-one's in particular PJ the frail once solid form said. “Clough might be just as apposite foe the present moment. He coughed a little to clear his throat, “Say not the struggle naught availeth, the Labour and wounds in vain.”

“Another war.” 

Howarth grunted, dropped into silence 

His sickness rose again at the thought. As if we hadn't turned France and Belgium red with blood, us and the Germans both. And all the boys, bright and curious and keen, sharp with loyalty and fervor which he remembered of those last bright days in the Valleys - before a promised University became khaki and trenches and shells. Now somehow, it seems to be coming round again, what we were determined to stop.

Christopherson, already gone, ghost unmarked. And there would be more to come, because Bamfylde and England had bred them like that, even he had in a way, building in them a strength of conviction and a challenge to the status quo.

“Not your fault PJ, not your fault.” Howarth said softly, “A good mind and an honest heart, you've given them that… from then a man must do as his conscience demands."

[s-aint-elmo]

pass it on!

(ID in alt text)

[theversevoyager]

Upon the sands of time, A tale of fate entwined, In present, past and future's chime, The hero fought, for truth defined. A challenge faced, a barrier grand, Time's flow reversed in hand, Through trials fought, through doubts well-branded, They triumphed, changed the sands of sand.

[lemongogo]

life of regret

[doctorsiren]

The books reveal that Ford is actually a secret partier

(Available as a print on my Etsy Shop)

(wips under cut)

[sirenetica]

May I request 3rd life desert duo? :3c

Sure

[sciderman]

well - webtoons is over, gang

[vaguely-concerned]

the more I play the more I think lucanis basically knows it's illario who betrayed him right from the beginning (he's had a year in the ossuary to think. not that many people knew where he was going. when you ask him 'did Illario know you'd be on that ship' his only answer is the hardest flattest 'yes' you ever heard). so it's not so much about figuring out who the traitor is (because that's ludicrous. we all know. immediately. they didn't really bother to hide it lmao) as about methodically closing off every single avenue of denial lucanis has clung to that whole time with as much or little gentleness as you might prefer until he has no choice but to admit it. because the moment he has to admit it, he'll have to do something -- feel something -- about it. and that's such a catastrophic event in lucanis' inner landscape (he has had TWO people in this whole entire world up until now and will do anything to hold on to them with a heartbreaking child-like desperation, even at and especially through the detriment of his own self) that he'd rather just. not. what if we quite simply. didn't. what if we just stayed here in the emptiness where we can both pretend you didn't hurt me in a way I should never forgive. I have so much practice in that with caterina already it's always worked out great for everyone so far. (press x to fucking doubt but that's trauma logic for you lol)

after everything illario did, so much of the storm of lucanis' emotions around it is 'what the FUCK did you get yourself tangled up in this time and how do I get you out of this mess safely'. what's worse: the fact that your brother murdered you, or that he put himself in horrible danger doing so and thus exposed you to the risk of losing him forever. lucanis' heart certainly has an opinion here and it's fucking unhinged (affectionate)

the themes of dissociation in lucanis' character in general makes me feel nuts. allllll these contradictory messy things he needs to cut off from each other because they can't coexist or be easily reconciled inside him. but all remain stubbornly true separately anyway and will have their due one day. love and resentment. tenderness and fear and rage. terror and longing. love and freedom don't coexist. the burned out golden child anthem is playing in the background. he was always caterina's favourite and he has to keep striving to deserve that dubious honour with every breath he takes and then, presumably, mercifully, some day he will die and be excused and can rest. and until now he's suppressed all the -- natural, healthy, protective! -- negative feelings that threaten the few attachment relationships he actually has, at the cost of ever actually having his needs for connection and safety met and leaving his core self imprisoned and compromised. and spite goes 'what. no. that's dumb fuck that' (*spite voice* I do not understand that and even if I did I would not respect it) and does not allow him to fall back into that, which I think is what saves his life, ultimately. it took being possessed by a demon for lucanis to even contemplate telling anyone he loves 'no' in any way, but hey. whatever gets you there right lol

lucanis is dealing with the freeze response allll the way down baby. and he was even before the ossuary, that just turbo powered it and brought it to a breaking point way before it could happen naturally. but something was going to break eventually no matter what, and I'm just glad that in the end, through the power of friendship and also pure spite, it doesn't have to be him

[refinedstorage]

Desert Repose

[skybson]

My Top 25 Costumes from Star Trek : The Original Series

11. T'Pring's Wedding Divorce Dress

[livingonthesands]

0.86.

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[naturecalls111]

WIP!!! Stealing glances amidst victory celebrations in Suna….