Sherlock Holmes Fanfic: He's Not Here

[saki101]

Title: He’s Not Here
Author: saki101
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (Arthur Conan Doyle books)
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~7.9K
Warnings: consideration of the apparent death of Holmes, canon typical mention of off-stage death of minor characters
Summary: Holmes learns more about how Watson felt after the Reichenbach Fall, and what Watson did about it.
Disclaimer: Public domain (at least all the ACD story elements referenced herein)
A/N: Written for the 2020 ACDHolmesfest.


Excerpt: “You consulted a spiritualist,” Holmes stated matter-of-factly.

“Not that one,” I protested hastily and despite the fire having burnt low in the grate, the late winter’s morning felt very warm indeed...

“While I was away,” he added.

On A03.

Photo Source: Wikipedia Commons

Sherlock Fanfic: Penumbra

[saki101]

________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Title: Penumbra (Chapters 1-5, complete)
Author: saki101
Fandom(s): Sherlock BBC/Dark Shadows (tv series)
Characters/Pairings: John Watson/Sherlock Holmes, Mrs Hudson, Mike Stamford
Rating: NC-17 (for series)
Genre: slash
Word Count: ~46.6K
Disclaimer: Neither Sherlock nor Dark Shadows is mine and no money is being made.
Preview: John’s grown up with the stories about Holmeswood Manor. They are certainly not going to keep him from interviewing for a residential post there because he cannot afford London on an army pension and there could not possibly be any truth to the tales.
A/N: A gothic romance AU of the Sherlock universe inspired by the universe of Dark Shadows (the television series), presented in five episodes, and written for the Miniseries March Challenge at Fall TV Season Sherlock.

Also posted on AO3.

Excerpt: He flitted across the moonbeams streaming through the windows. When I finally set myself in motion, he had stopped in the last pool of silvery light and was regarding me. There were no flames to colour him there; he was all pallor and darkness.

The room seemed inordinately long as I progressed through it, skirting the benches and pedestals and display cases that seemed to sprout in my path. I thought the shadows about him grew denser as I hastened forward and a fear that he might be swallowed by them before I reached his side gripped me.

He waited, as still and pale as the statues I had passed, except, as I drew near, I could see the pink bloom of his mouth.