We Go Anywhere But To The Ground [Sherlock, Johnlock, NC-17]

We Go Anywhere But To The Ground by geordielover

 John's face crumples in on itself and the hurt that's been rattling around between his bones suddenly erupts into a painful bloom, and he falls. Sherlock Holmes, even in death, remains the only man capable of bringing John Watson to his knees.

This is long, this is interesting and this has things that I cant not to fall in love. This is that kinda fic that isnt cliche where it is trying to be cliche and with a happy ending that isnt an actual happy ending. This has so many sides that I cant keep a count on them. And all those things all reasons why I fell in love with this.

We Go Anywhere But To The Ground is a fic about John's sorrow after Sherlock's death and how his life is meaningless. The life goes by day by day and everyone tries to keep John even a little bit happy. And then there is Sherlock who cant belive how depressed John is. Mycroft just tries keep and eye on John and Molly cant stand the lieng anymore.

So the plot basically is just sorrow. Everyone has their own sorrow and that affects them different ways. Mostly this just concentrates on John who doesnt live his life anymore. He just is and tries to find a reason to wake up the next morning until he has enough courage to finnish it all. And in the background there is everyone else trying to find their way on that sorrow too.

In a fic there are normally really small things I fell in love with. Sometimes they can be some lines or just plain senteced and sometimes they are the storytelling and how its so sarcastic or negative or something feisty. It has to be something really strong or something like that but not from the middle ground. And then I fell in love. This one had depressed storytelling and I fell in love with how pale it was. Everything was so straight minded from that and all just showed that depressing.

Its hard to tell about this fic. I could just tell how boring and depressing John's life is and how well written all that his but that would just be boring. Even when this is so friggin long fic (with over 25 000 in one oneshot) there isnt much to talk about.

So I'm just stealing a one little quete from the fic and leaving it there. Because this was good and I cant really tell more expect you are about to read a very dark, dapressing fic if you open this one. Yea. Still. Dont forget how good this is (you can totally ignore the lenght).

They fall asleep in Sherlock's bedroom every night, pressed back to front with Gladstone smothering their feet (Sherlock doesn't care one whit about the dog, but Gladstone can't seem to get enough of those long fingers pressed against his belly and positively harasses Sherlock when he's perched in his chair, attempting to navigate his mind palace). John orders take away and turns on bad telly and has nightmares every night, wakes up gasping and sweating and clutching Sherlock far too tight.

Sherlock still pauses at the door when he has a case, waiting on John.

John keeps his gaze averted and always says, "Maybe next time."

Sherlock's mouth tightens and he sweeps out the door.

John never follows.