Caesura: cae·su·ra /sēˈzyo͝orə, siˈZHo͞orə/ - As in poetry or music: a break, pause or interruption. The ripples were still settling from the massive intrusion into Sherlock Holmes' life that was John Watson. Sherlock had welcomed it: cajoled the decommissioned soldier into accepting a place at Baker Street, tempted the doctor into accompanying him into his dangerous adventures on the streets of London, and manipulated the man into accepting the unenviable task of reminding his new flatmate to give the least tribute to the needs of transport.
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I was reading the beautiful and heartwarming The Way Home by @calaisreno, and thinking on how many wonderful holiday Johnlock fic there are. Like Adeste Fideles and the incomparable The Man in Aisle Ten by @blogstandbygo. And enjoying the new delights of December Moments by @lisbeth-kk and @totallysilvergirl's The Holly and The Ivy: December Drabbles.
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A sunny classroom is filled with children. They mill and chatter. Violin cases are opened, bows are tightened. Chairs are claimed by parents who wait. The instructor calls to the class in a loud friendly voice, telling them to settle down and take their places. The door to the room opens. A tall, dark haired man and matching slender child with curly hair enter. The boy holds a violin case tightly to him. The man smiles down at him encouragingly and motions towards the group. "Will Holmes?" says the instructor to an answering nod. He smiles at the young serious face. "You've come just in time. We'll do a few exercises first, so just leave your instrument for now and come find a place to stand."
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Also, I've been thoroughly enjoying the new adaptation of The Blue Carbuncle in the Sherlock & Co podcast, and can't wait for the second installment on Boxing Day. Watching the Granada Adventures of Sherlock Holmes version is a household tradition for me. And @multifandomaceflux shared the link of the Granada Sherlock cast musical Christmas special "Joy to the World" from 1984, which brings a whole nother sort of sweet meta joy.
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Sherlock had said vastly too many words this day. He opened the case and brushed a finger down the hazel belly of his own stately violin. One more task. It had been the first and would be the last for him in the Herculean labor that John and Mary's wedding had become.
***
And feeling grateful for the fic recs and year end fic wrap up by @helloliriels, and past but always welcome Christmast fic round ups by @inevitably-johnlocked, whose Christmas Themed Rec list is just full of treats for the season.
But then they brought up the loads from the car to his and Rosie's room. John laid eyes on the gleaming, newly assembled cot. Sherlock's vulnerable apologies about taking liberties with setting up and assurances that all could be re-arranged made the source of the effort all too clear. It pushed the new father far over the line into sentiment. He crushed his cool flatmate in a hug (as much as he could with a sleeping child snuggled in a carrier between them). A watery-eyed embrace that lasted far longer than he could imagine the impassive detective being comfortable.
***
I thought, I should have written something, to add to the festive, romantic spirit of the community.
Then I remembered, I have already! So here it is, Caesura. With the beautiful covers that @simplyclockwork and @loveismyrevolution made for it so long ago now.
It's a 5+1 that got away from me. Focused on Sherlock & his violin - and, really, his adoration for John Watson. What that costs them, and what it gives them all, in the end.
Hoping your holidays are sweet, full of rest & joy.
Christmas Eve had been perfect. So perfect Martha poked at the memory as she moved through her daily breathing and stretching exercises, just to be sure she hadn't dreamed it. Little Rosie looking like an angel in her gold and silver dress. A crackling fire lit as the first snow of the season started to fall. The scents of chocolate and orange and cinnamon making everyone drool a bit. And much appreciation that the toothsome treats awaiting them were courtesy of kitchen 221A. Stealing John's chair for a comfortable seat by the hearth. Listening to Sherlock play 'O Holy Night,' always one of her favorite moments of the season. Rosie's laughter threading the hearts of the household together with joy. And most surprising, the delight of witnessing her adoptive tenants' burgeoning flirtation unfurl before her eyes. John's gaze watching Sherlock read 'A Christmas Carol' aloud. Entranced. Adoring. At peace. Sherlock's lingering hands each time he drifted by John and Rosie, or lifted her from her father's arms to take his turn cossetting the girl. Clasping John's arm, caressing his shoulder, grazing his waist. Once alighting daringly on his flatmate's neck. Martha had averted her eyes at the sound of John's gently in-drawn breath.
One of my all-time favourite fics 😍😍😍
Go read it if you haven't yet!!
