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fandomweekly2021-07-09 08:59 pm
topaz_eyes) wrote in fandomweekly2021-07-09 08:59 pm
Entry tags:
[#077] An Illuminating Confession (Elementary)
Theme Prompt: #077 - Confession
Title: An Illuminating Confession
Fandom: Elementary
Rating/Warnings: R (mature content)
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 799
Summary: “Tell me something to make me love you.” A question is asked, and answered.
“Tell me something to make me love you,” Joan asked Sherlock out of the blue, very late one November evening.
She pressed in tight against his side and idly traced a heart over Sherlock’s bare chest while light autumn rain pattered outside her bedroom window at the brownstone. As they nestled on top of the comforter to cool off, naked limbs entwined, the blue-tinted streetlight outside provided illumination from between the cracks of the heavy drapes, casting an otherworldly glow on the bed.
“I beg your pardon?”
Joan looked up at the confused tone in Sherlock’s voice. “It’s a line from a movie I saw once. Imagine that we met only once in our lifetime, and spent one night together. What would you say to make me fall in love with you on the spot?”
Sherlock frowned pensively at the whorled stipples on the ceiling. “I must ask, are you searching for a reason to love me now, Watson? Are you doubting the new direction our partnership has taken of late?”
Joan hugged Sherlock tighter. “Of course not. I’m not doubting what we have at all. I’m just curious about what you might say in that situation.”
“Ah.” His face contorted with his thoughts, entire conversations flitting across his face as Joan waited for his answer. “I would tell you that I miss the old sodium vapour streetlights in New York,” Sherlock said at last, in an unexpectedly wistful tone.
“Really?” Joan raised herself on one elbow to gaze down at him, wondering how his reply connected to her question. “You miss the yellow street lamps?”
“Intensely so. Especially since I returned from Reykjavik where similar color LEDs are in use. The evenings in New York City are just not the same as before.”
“All right, may I ask why? What do you miss about the streetlights now?”
Sherlock took a moment to think about it. “The ambience, Watson. The allure. The old sodium lamps imbued softness and warmth to the streets, familiarity reminiscent of firelight, or candlelight flickering on the roads and sidewalks. Or of the gas lamps which illuminated London beginning in 1809.”
“You know New York streetlights were mercury vapour before the 1970s. The sodium vapour lights replaced them.”
“The mercury bulbs were also coated to absorb the ultraviolet emissions of the gaseous state, and suffuse their harshness on the eyes. Whereas the precise wavelength of 485 nanometres produced by current LED streetlamps interferes with the body’s natural circadian rhythms, suppresses natural production of melatonin and disrupts sleep patterns. It is not wrong to surmise that LED streetlights may ultimately serve to distract from, not enhance, the human experience.”
He raised himself up to meet her with a long, tender kiss, his thumb smoothing her hair behind her ear.
“I thought you championed progress,” Joan said when Sherlock pulled back. “LED streetlights are safer for walking at night. They’re more energy-efficient and last longer.”
“I am its utmost champion. Yet even I cannot help but reflect on the possibility that whilst appreciating the forward progress of technology, we may have relinquished some of the romance of the night.”
Sherlock cleared his throat. “Did you know, Watson, that Reykjavik extinguishes its city lights during an especially impressive aurora borealis in the night sky, so that its residents may enjoy the full spectacle without interference?”
“I did not,” Joan replied, trying to picture it in her mind. “I’ve seen pictures of the aurora online and in books of course, I know how it’s formed, but I’ve never experienced one for myself.”
“Words cannot explain the wonder of standing beneath the vast green and red and violet ripples of light created by the solar winds ionizing in Earth’s magnetosphere. On some occasions the emissions are loud enough that you will hear the lights sing.”
Joan nodded, entranced, and Sherlock looked pleased. “Considering the expression on your face, may I deduce that I have answered your question to your satisfaction?”
“Yes.” She pulled him forward into a longer, deeper kiss.
“Now I shall turn your query back on you, Watson,” Sherlock said when the kiss ended, their foreheads touching. “What would you tell me to make me love you, were this to be our only encounter?”
Joan sighed; she should have expected Sherlock would reciprocate. But all she could think to say was, “I would love to see the Northern lights with you sometime.”
At that Sherlock smiled widely, and Joan knew she’d given the correct answer. “When I return to Iceland, I insist that you accompany me. I will coordinate our visit with the height of the northern lights display.”
“That would be lovely,” Joan said, touched by his offer, “that would be perfect.”
“I am delighted,” Sherlock murmured, nuzzling her jawline, and they burrowed back under the covers.
Title: An Illuminating Confession
Fandom: Elementary
Rating/Warnings: R (mature content)
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 799
Summary: “Tell me something to make me love you.” A question is asked, and answered.
“Tell me something to make me love you,” Joan asked Sherlock out of the blue, very late one November evening.
She pressed in tight against his side and idly traced a heart over Sherlock’s bare chest while light autumn rain pattered outside her bedroom window at the brownstone. As they nestled on top of the comforter to cool off, naked limbs entwined, the blue-tinted streetlight outside provided illumination from between the cracks of the heavy drapes, casting an otherworldly glow on the bed.
“I beg your pardon?”
Joan looked up at the confused tone in Sherlock’s voice. “It’s a line from a movie I saw once. Imagine that we met only once in our lifetime, and spent one night together. What would you say to make me fall in love with you on the spot?”
Sherlock frowned pensively at the whorled stipples on the ceiling. “I must ask, are you searching for a reason to love me now, Watson? Are you doubting the new direction our partnership has taken of late?”
Joan hugged Sherlock tighter. “Of course not. I’m not doubting what we have at all. I’m just curious about what you might say in that situation.”
“Ah.” His face contorted with his thoughts, entire conversations flitting across his face as Joan waited for his answer. “I would tell you that I miss the old sodium vapour streetlights in New York,” Sherlock said at last, in an unexpectedly wistful tone.
“Really?” Joan raised herself on one elbow to gaze down at him, wondering how his reply connected to her question. “You miss the yellow street lamps?”
“Intensely so. Especially since I returned from Reykjavik where similar color LEDs are in use. The evenings in New York City are just not the same as before.”
“All right, may I ask why? What do you miss about the streetlights now?”
Sherlock took a moment to think about it. “The ambience, Watson. The allure. The old sodium lamps imbued softness and warmth to the streets, familiarity reminiscent of firelight, or candlelight flickering on the roads and sidewalks. Or of the gas lamps which illuminated London beginning in 1809.”
“You know New York streetlights were mercury vapour before the 1970s. The sodium vapour lights replaced them.”
“The mercury bulbs were also coated to absorb the ultraviolet emissions of the gaseous state, and suffuse their harshness on the eyes. Whereas the precise wavelength of 485 nanometres produced by current LED streetlamps interferes with the body’s natural circadian rhythms, suppresses natural production of melatonin and disrupts sleep patterns. It is not wrong to surmise that LED streetlights may ultimately serve to distract from, not enhance, the human experience.”
He raised himself up to meet her with a long, tender kiss, his thumb smoothing her hair behind her ear.
“I thought you championed progress,” Joan said when Sherlock pulled back. “LED streetlights are safer for walking at night. They’re more energy-efficient and last longer.”
“I am its utmost champion. Yet even I cannot help but reflect on the possibility that whilst appreciating the forward progress of technology, we may have relinquished some of the romance of the night.”
Sherlock cleared his throat. “Did you know, Watson, that Reykjavik extinguishes its city lights during an especially impressive aurora borealis in the night sky, so that its residents may enjoy the full spectacle without interference?”
“I did not,” Joan replied, trying to picture it in her mind. “I’ve seen pictures of the aurora online and in books of course, I know how it’s formed, but I’ve never experienced one for myself.”
“Words cannot explain the wonder of standing beneath the vast green and red and violet ripples of light created by the solar winds ionizing in Earth’s magnetosphere. On some occasions the emissions are loud enough that you will hear the lights sing.”
Joan nodded, entranced, and Sherlock looked pleased. “Considering the expression on your face, may I deduce that I have answered your question to your satisfaction?”
“Yes.” She pulled him forward into a longer, deeper kiss.
“Now I shall turn your query back on you, Watson,” Sherlock said when the kiss ended, their foreheads touching. “What would you tell me to make me love you, were this to be our only encounter?”
Joan sighed; she should have expected Sherlock would reciprocate. But all she could think to say was, “I would love to see the Northern lights with you sometime.”
At that Sherlock smiled widely, and Joan knew she’d given the correct answer. “When I return to Iceland, I insist that you accompany me. I will coordinate our visit with the height of the northern lights display.”
“That would be lovely,” Joan said, touched by his offer, “that would be perfect.”
“I am delighted,” Sherlock murmured, nuzzling her jawline, and they burrowed back under the covers.