Yes you are, Sherlock.
[Ow. Wow that packed an emotional punch. And then this happened…]
It started with the invasion. That sounded like a bad sci-fi opener, true, but it made the statement no less accurate.
They got separated, and Sherlock was taken (because he can’t be bothered to stay put when John says to; because he’s a genius, and they need geniuses). John didn’t stop searching, regardless of the hindrances, the warnings, or the attempts to stop him (nor did he stop making a very big impact on the supposedly superior race, racking up quite an impressive tale of destruction in his wake, and the daleks learned to fear a human doctor damn near as much as a lone timelord, oncoming storm or not, because they took his friend) until he finally found Sherlock, but…
Well.
It was too late to really save him. To save all of him.
John wouldn’t leave him, though – it was still Sherlock – it was, and didn’t he always say his body was just transport? ‘It’s about the brain, John’ – but Sherlock wasn’t so sure about that, himself, now; once the reality of it was recognized and accepted (because Sherlock had never been one to lie to himself, however pretty the lie, however harsh the truth). He could still think, still reason, was still brilliant, but he was missing half his senses, was so restricted into that damnable metal body – (‘The work, John! I can’t do the work! I can’t sense half the evidence, now, and I’ll trample it far easier than even the imbeciles at the MET manage on a bad day’.)
Read More…
(On AO3, because it got kinda long)
Lady Karasu 