#first attempt at fanfiction

[coldblizzardqueen]

So I started to write a little Berena fix it set after Bernie leaves the wedding reception. It's only a beginning but I'd really appreciate any constructive opinions, if anyone is willing to read!

It's not been properly edited as this isn't (probably) a final version.

A Definition of Eternity.

Chapter 1

“Infinite or Unending Time” said a soft, immediately recognizable voice.

“What the…?” Started Serena. Catching hold of the living room door handle to steady herself as she nearly jumped out of her skin.

While trying to regain some composure, which was difficult in her very inebriated state, she watched as Bernie casually unfurled herself from her favourite armchair by the window. There was an open bottle of whiskey and a nearly empty glass on the side table next to the chair where Bernie placed her Kindle as she stood up. Pulling her shoulders back before looking directly at Serena.

“You asked me to wait…I promised eternity…Unending time.” Bernie explained evenly.

She’d originally come back to the house to collect her things. Intending to be holed up in a hotel long before her (now) former partner came home. But as she’d been throwing her things haphazardly into her suitcase. Military precision be damned. She had concluded that once again, she’d allowed Serena to throw a grenade at their relationship, without putting up even the smallest fight. Without making herself and her feelings heard. She’d walked away with a sloppy salute and a pained smile.

So, she’d stopped her packing, changed into more comfortable clothes and ensconced herself in the armchair with an excellent single malt and a good book. Waiting for Serena to return.

“Why are you…? Serena’s eyes drew together in adorable confusion. The door she gripped by the handle swaying gently backwards and forwards.

Bernie smiled softly. She itched to steady Serena and help her to bed. Hold her close.

“Sitting here reading at three in the morning?” she questioned.

Serena sighed. Not a put-upon sigh. An unguarded sigh. The one that contained something like awe or…dare Bernie hope… happiness “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

Bernie tried to maintain eye contact, but it was almost impossible to keep track of Serena’s glassy, unfocused gaze. She spoke quietly but firmly, “I need to have a real conversation with you Serena. I don’t want to walk away from us without at least honestly telling you how I feel.”

She shuffled her feet, briefly looking down at them. She smiled. She'd forgotten she was wearing Serena’s slippers. Looking back up she explained “I stayed tonight because I wasn’t sure I’d be brave enough to come back tomorrow.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And walking away before we’ve sat down and talked properly, just felt wrong to me.

Serena moved away from the swaying door. She was starting to look a little green. Dropping herself onto the overstuffed sofa, she slurred sadly, “We have talked Bernie. We agreed. We’re just not the right sort of manimaul…mani…” She flapped her arms uselessly, “Oh, you know what we said.”

Bernie moved towards her partner (ex? Not if she could help it) “Go to bed love. I’ll bring you up a glass of water and some paracetamol.” She offered her hand and pulled Serena up from the sofa.

Her balance being impeded meant that Serena fell into Bernie’s arms. She briefly nuzzled her neck before she realised that she couldn’t do that anymore and tried to straighten herself up.

“I think I mish be sofa on the safer!” Serena pronounced in a breathy huff. She smiled sloppily, looking up at Bernie, “I do…I do’slove you.”

Ignoring the soused declaration, Bernie slid her own arm around Serena’s waist, and slung Serena’s arm around her neck. “Come on, I’ll help you upstairs.” She really didn’t fancy a trip to the hospital tonight and Serena was likely to do herself an injury if left to her own devices.

The trip up the stairs was made more difficult by the fact that Serena seemed to be nodding off, even as she walked, to the point Bernie was taking most of her weight. “Good job I’m a Big Macho Army Medic.” She murmured to herself as she manoeuvred her precious cargo into the bedroom.

She whipped back the duvet on the side of the bed closest to her and gently deposited Serena onto the mattress. She pulled her shoes off and undid the top button on her trousers, so she would be a little more comfortable and covered her with the duvet. Unable to resist, she placed a kiss on Serena’s forehead. “I love you too.” She whispered as she turned out the light and left the room.

After checking everywhere was locked up downstairs, and placing the promised water and paracetamol by Serena’s bedside, Bernie took herself into Jason’s old room and got ready for bed.

Tomorrow, she was going to try and metaphorically shake some sense into Serena. Slippers, bins and swings…she thought. How can they possibly be reasons to throw away what they had. She had a lot to say about their break-up conversation and she was ready to fight.

To be continued? Should I? Thoughts welcome.

[yikescaninot]

Does anybody have like 15 minutes to read the first part of my Victuuri fic before I take the plunge and post it? 

[mrandmrholmes-watson]

Night Watching

Okay guys, here goes nothing. Full disclaimer: I have never written fanfiction before, and I am NOT a writer. But I really want to contribute to the lovely BBC Sherlock fandom here. So please please read this and give me some feedback, such as if you think it is interesting and would want to read more, so I can try some more. Somehow, writing to an audience is easier to motivate than writing to a void.

*******

John wakes up to the sound of Sherlock’s breathing.

 It is a quiet sound, a sound most would miss, especially with the thrumming of city night outside their- no, his- flat.

 But John is trained in survival, the kind of training that a war abroad and a war at home demand. And so, although awake, he is careful not to move, careful not to alter the pattern of chest rising and chest falling.

 This is the second time John has awoken to the presence of Sherlock in his bedroom. Wait, that’s not true. This is the second time John has awoken to the presence of Sherlock in his bedroom since Sherlock had fucking fucked up every last fucking thing.

 John realizes that the tension that has crept along his jaw and neck at the thought of Sherlock standing on the roof at St. Bart’s… no, this was not helping, stop thinking about it.

 Adjust

 John lets out a small, sleepy noise, noncommittal, and turns slightly, away from Sherlock’s position against the far wall. He hopes he can pass it off, not sure if this Sherlock is as observant as the one in John’s head, the Sherlock who would certainly have noticed that John is awake, and is feigning sleep to avoid confrontation.

 John continues to breathe, as calmly as possible, trying to still his thoughts, waiting.

 Waiting for this Sherlock, this impossible Sherlock, to make the next move.

 Ball’s in your court, you cunt.

**************

[peachblossom-odyssey]

The TARDIS was silent, at rest on yet another alien planet. The Doctor stood at the console. His eyes roving over the levers and buttons in undisguised wonder and mischievousness that never quite went away. And River smiled at her husband, her beautiful Doctor. He turned toward her and she didn’t even bother pretending that she hadn’t been staring. He grinned and sauntered toward her in that funny way of his. She met him head on and their their lips met in a passionate kiss. She would never get used to this. To knowing that this man was so wonderful and clever and beautiful and /hers/. Her Doctor, dazed from the kiss, managed to get enough breathe in his body to whisper a single word.

“Rose”

And Rivers heart broke.