Sherlock has always been fascinated by sharp objects. When he was five or six, he stole some of his motherās thinnest and sharpest needles and penetrated the skin on his fingertips without drawing blood. He felt no pain either. It was captivating. When his mother found out, there was drama and lectures about how he couldāve been injured. An endless tirade he grew tired of after trying to explain himself. He didnāt want to get hurt. It was just an experiment.
***Ā
Both his parents and Mycroft believed his drug addiction had to do with his early experimentation with the needles. It obviously wasnāt. Sherlock was actually quite disappointed with his brother for even considering it. He wanted peace and quiet, from his own thoughts and his bullies. The numerous pinpricks on his arms told a tale of endless hours of despair, but also blissful silence.
***
Sherlockās scars from being stitched together by Johnās skilled doctor hands, he wore with pride. John was meticulous, the marks were barely visible. but Sherlock knew it pained John to mar his flawless skin. (Johnās words, not his.)
It took him quite a while not to flinch when John kissed the evidence of Sherlockās past abuse on the inside of Sherlockās arms when they made love.
āThey donāt hurt anymore, John,ā Sherlock tried to reason with his best friend and lover.
āI know, my heart. Kissing them gives me comfort. Itās a way for me to soothe what I couldnāt when it happened. When I wasnāt there. When I didnāt know youā¦ā John explained and went silent, holding Sherlock tight.
After that, Sherlock let John kiss the signs of his past without complaint or embarrassment. They were a part of him and the fact that John loved him despite of what they symbolised, was nothing short of a miracle.
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Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt 246, "Pinprick"
Ao3: Here!
Two pinpricks of light, poking from the undergrowth. Theyāre red, for a moment, piercing through the night.
Then, they blink. Gold replaces one of the lights ā one of the eyes. The other is void.Ā
Shouldāve known better than to come out at night. A plague is in these areas, singing, calling, beckoning. Her teeth spell change. Death without slumber. A death that drags you along, one thing on your mind ā but you have a mind. Sometimes, the eyes of the infected twitch in recognition, met with those they love most.
But thereās only so long they can go without blood. The infection has to feed. The infection has to spread.
Her eyes lock onto yours and you try to back away. But sheās not alone. She is never alone.
Two by two, flecks of light blink open around you. Brown and blue glow at each of her sides, watchful.Ā
After days away from Eboshi, Linās tension was making her clumsy. The takeout bag, her briefcase, and her key all felt huge and heavy. Both of them had been looking forward to an evening with no obligations, and they had intended to relax at Eboshiās apartment.Ā
Lin was running late as usual. Adding insult to injury, her briefcase slipped from her fingers and dropped on her boot.Ā
It wasnāt the first time she was glad for her uniform boots protecting her from the heavy metal case Tenzin had given her for her promotion to captain. She took a moment to smooth out the scratch with her thumb.Ā
The case wasnāt worth repairing.Ā
With it on the floor where it fell, she twisted the key in the lock and opened the door. A quick glance told her that Eboshi wasnāt in the living room, which meant she was in her workshop. Lin sighed. Clearly, her evening wasnāt going to plan, either.Ā
At least she could bend off her armor and stash it in the chair by the door. The case floated inside from the hallway, landing with a loud thunk on the floor.Ā
āLin?ā came Eboshiās voice. āPlease stop knocking around out there. You nearly made me miss a stitch.ā Linās mood deflated just a little more.Ā
This sigh carried her all the way to the kitchen, where she saw what had to be Eboshiās bowl in the sink.Ā
āYou ate already?ā she called over her shoulder.
āI had to. Li Peng made a mess out of this commission and we are nearly out of time to finish. Leave me alone so I can work.ā
The weight settled a little more heavily across her shoulders as she placed the bag on the table and removed the container with Eboshiās arctic hen order. Once it was in the fridge, Lin reached out to call her briefcase to herself, and the chopsticks from the drawer.
She lifted her eyes to the window, but could only see the periodic flash of the R3 lighthouse on Yue Bay, a faraway pinprick of light. She shook herself and removed a communications plan for the upcoming Foundersā Day festival.
Some time later, Eboshi huffed in annoyance, yanking Linās chopsticks out from where she had stuck them in the container. āLin, you know better than to stick your chopsticks in your noodles that way. Itās a good thing itās only me to see you being rude.ā
Linās attention shattered. She twisted up to look at Eboshi. āRude? We had planned to listen to your radio show tonight and spend some time together. I brought that arctic hen order you like so much, but find out you had already eaten without waiting for me. Iām not the only one being rude.ā
Eboshi flounced across the kitchen to pull out a glass and fill it with water. She drank it down without stopping for a breath. When she set it down in the sink, she continued in the same aggravated tone. āI would have called you, but you told me never to call you at work. Something about us both needing our privacy.ā She whirled away, keeping her back to Lin before stomping her way back to her office.
Sighing yet again, Lin closed her paperwork and shoved it back inside the case. The food container joined its companion in the icebox, and Lin washed Eboshiās bowl before replacing it in the spot she thought it belonged.
As much as it rankled her, she gave some consideration to trying to craft an apology.
Iām sorry for trying to consider your reputation.
Iām sorry for trying to protect you from the scrutiny I get all the time.
Iām sorry for trying to keep you safe from people who want to hurt me.
She bent over the sink and splashed water on her face. She leaned her elbows against the edge of the sink and held her face in her hands. A long list of colorful language ran through her mind until all she could say to herself was, āSpirits.ā
A slow, measured breath helped her square her shoulders and rub her face. The towel had her dried off and presentable with just a quick swipe.
Lin rapped her fingertips gently against the door, the way Eboshi had demonstrated on their first visit to her apartment. āI know this seems absurd to you, but when Iām concentrating on my stitching, it can be catastrophic for me to have you jerk my attention away.ā After knocking for almost a whole minute, Lin knew it was safe to enter.
An impressively bright array of lights lined the far wall, hanging above the plane of Eboshiās work surface, but below her face. Lin had listened, torn between fascination and boredom as Eboshi had described her work area. She could admit to herself that it had been Eboshiās sparkling interest that had truly won her over that evening.
Approaching from Eboshiās left was always preferable, when possible. Lin would block the minimum amount of light, and not run the risk of jolting Eboshiās sewing hand.
Tonightās project was a gossamer-light hanfu. The pale lavender fabric was almost hard to see it was so thin.Ā The pattern Eboshi was embroidering along the hem was barely darker than the fabric itself. Lin tried to understand the folds she was looking at, but knew it was entirely outside her skillset.
It was just so beautiful that Lin found herself reaching for the fabric.
āLady Wang asked me to finish this tonight to deliver tomorrow. You might even see whoās wearing it at that gala you told me you didnāt want to attend for the art museum. At least youāll get to see it in its final form. Iām not going to be helping with the fitting in the morning.ā
Lin had to use her eyes to convince herself she was actually touching the fabric because it barely registered on her stone-toughened fingertips.
But the pinprick of the needle made her jerk her hand back.
When she shook her hand in irritation, she couldnāt understand why Eboshi gasped.
Until she saw the bloodstain spread along the delicate weave.
