Notes. (based on this post)
Good morning, Sherlock.
He crumples the post-it between his fingers. Halfway through his coffee, he retrieves it from the floor and smooths it out again, careful not to rip it.
THIS FIC. HOMG. When Sherlock sleeps, John wakes up. When Sherlock wakes, John sleeps. They have to manage their lives around each other.
Magical realism, or maybe fantasy, it sits on that blurry line. In any case it’s beautiful and painful and elegant and creative. I tried to write a story a little like this once, but I’ve never gotten the idea to work, but otterbatch has done everything with it that I dreamed of and more. SO AMAZING.
