againstallelse

[againstallelse]

My mental health took a severe turn with both the current world situation and my personal situation. I’m sorry to everyone who has reached out to me during this time. I would like to try writing again, but I’ve had some trouble with my creative mind the past few weeks. Hang in there with me if you can.

[againstallelse]

Hello. Severe depression hit. Will be back when I am able to be back.

[againstallelse]

Hello. I’m the original anon. I was realllly drunk last night and could not find that fic for the life of me. I don’t think that is it, but I’m going to read it anyways. I don’t know who that second anon is but I would never (do this) that much.

The only thing I really remember about the fic I was looking for was John sitting with Sherlock in the hospital after he was shot and realizing his feelings, him finding out Mary did it, and breaking up with her.

I'm really intoxicated and looking for a fic where after mary shoots sherlock, john leaves mary and gets together with sherlock because he realizes his true feelings with sherlock in danger I THINK I read it but I can't remember please help

Hey Nonny!

Ahhhh I know of a few fics, but Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi does have this plot sort of? But it gets dark before it gets happy again, just as a warning because if you’re pissed drunk you’re gonna sob like a baby, LOL. But you can check out my Infidelity fics list for some other similar ones <3

And I’m jealous Nonny… working at home is an honour system, though I do work at a job where we CAN drink, just not in excess, LOL. I’m very tired.

[againstallelse]

I really need some love in this mad world *saaaaaad face* duuh……

[againstallelse]

The Confessionals of John H. Watson: First Draft

Hello all. Now that the month from hell is being pushed behind me (Don’t ask), I’m back to writing and I bring you The Confessionals of John H. Watson. Written by John after The Reichenbach Fall, it focuses on the question that everyone has asked in one way or another. What is John Watson’s relationship to Sherlock Holmes?

This is a first draft that I do plan on continuing. I’d love any feedback anyone has. A beta reader (or a collection of them) would be very appreciated.

Why I’ve chosen to write this now I’m not entirely sure. It feels far too little, far too late. Just like everything else seems to always be.

This will never even see the light of day. Maybe someday, long after I’m dead, someone will research into the great Sherlock Holmes’ legacy and find it. But my expectations are low. Even though it’s what everyone always wanted to read. The blog post everyone was practically begging for.

I have received one question above all others over the course of the past few years of my life. It’s one I’ve avoided addressing because in all honesty, I still do not have a simple answer.

“What is your relationship to Sherlock Holmes?”

And in a sum of words, I genuinely don’t know.

I have never had a real answer to this question. I got it from the very first day I met Sherlock, seemingly from everywhere. At that point, there was no suitable answer. A stranger? A new friend? An interest? I didn’t know. And I was too afraid to ask him what I was to him.

To me, he was like a light in the darkness. Everything had felt so dull, so painful, so dark. I was entirely alone in the world. I trudged forward every day because I wasn’t sure what else I could do. But then he came. He was enematic. Charismatic. Bright.

He lit up my entire life all at once, thrusting me into a whole new world where I finally felt like I belonged.

He was strange and finicky. A total prat. Early on, I couldn’t tell if he cared if I lived or died. I couldn’t tell if I cared if I lived or died. As long as I didn’t have to return to the darkness, I didn’t care. I felt so empty for so long. I did everything I could to keep things steady between us. Stable.

I couldn’t jeopardize losing the only good thing in my life.

I had known I had an interest in Sherlock from day one. I would have rather ended it all then admit it to a soul. But I knew it was quite obvious to anyone who bothered to throw us a second glance.

However, I didn’t realize how bad I had it for Sherlock until we had been living together for a while. I knew he was gorgeous. I knew that my heart beat faster when he was close enough to touch.

One morning I came downstairs to find him shirtless in our kitchen and found he had made tea for us both, I was overcome with something unfamiliar. I sat beside him as he read and drank his tea, ignoring me for more interesting things.

I stared at him. I studied the curves of his face. His bare chest. His lips as they curled around the edge of his mug. The most dangerous realization settled in my heart.

I wanted to be here, with him, forever. I wanted to be with Sherlock for the rest of my life. I couldn’t imagine spending my mornings with anyone else. I wanted to wake up beside him in the morning and have him be the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes.

I choked a bit and laughed it off, trying to seem casual. His eyes peered up from his book to look at me and I shook my head. He crooked his brows and before going back to his reading.

I got more serious with Sarah, my girlfriend, after that incident. I wasn’t sure what Sherlock’s sexual preference was, but I was fairly certain that it didn’t include me. Or possibly any human being. Which didn’t phase me that much.

Did I want to be sexually involved with Sherlock Holmes? Admittedly, yes. I did. He was on my mind far more often then he should have been, in scenarios he shouldn’t have been involved in. Especially when I was shagging my girlfriend.

But I didn’t mind it if Sherlock never had an interest in me. As long as I got to stay by his side for the rest of my life. That was always the priority. Anything that might scare him away had to be kept at a minimum. So I was careful about staring at him. I avoided touching him in any way at all. I knew he’d see through me and connect the dots if I indulged myself too much, so I was careful.

I still think he might have known.

Sarah figured it out. We went on a trip together, alone, since she kept asking. The whole time I was checking my phone, calling and checking in on Sherlock, talking about him nonstop. One night on our trip she found me up late, scrolling through Sherlock’s boring blog.

She asked, “Do you really love me?”

I put my computer down. She caught me off guard. “Why are you asking that?”

“Because… you don’t look at me the same way you look at Sherlock. I’m not blind John. You could be enjoying your holiday in bed with me. But you’re not. You’re thinking about him.”

Her words burned into my brain. She was right. My god, she was right. She was so kind, letting me keep my privacy. We parted amicably when the trip was over and she wished me the best of luck with Sherlock. She never told a soul, even though the papers would have paid her enough to retire a year down the line if she had.

Why couldn’t I have just loved her?

My life continued with Sherlock. Our cases were interesting, he was vibrant. He had his days, but overall we were very happy those months. That summer was likely the happiest of my life, traveling around with Sherlock, chasing after criminals in the warm summer evenings.

Sometimes I wonder if he had any concept of how romantic that summer was. Sometimes I wonder if it was the best summer of his life too.

Then she came.

The woman.

Everything changed when she came into our lives. She excited Sherlock. In ways I didn’t. Mentally. And seemingly physically, I think. It was such a shock to see Sherlock attracted to anyone in any way. Especially a woman.

It frustrated me. It hurt. After everything we went through, it seemed momentarily like she would come between us and break us apart. It was a whirlwind, one day it was he and I against the world. The next he was composing music for her.

I ran through three girlfriends in three months, trying to distract myself. Trying to distance myself from Sherlock, steal my heart so when I lost him to a dangerous dominatrix it wouldn’t hurt so badly. It didn’t work even remotely. All three of them saw right through me in record time.

When Irene pretended to die, some part of my selfish self was relieved. Maybe things could return to normal. But Sherlock’s reaction… he was totally devastated. It was heartbreaking to watch. He was quiet, reclusive even. His mourning wasn’t loud and external like most people. It probably would have been invisible to most people.

But I wasn’t most people. I was his blogger, his roommate, his best friend. His family. And I saw the way his shoulders hunched and how sad his eyes were in the reflection of the window glass.

When she returned, expecting my help, I had wanted to throw her out the window. She hurt the man who my world revolved around and wanted my help? But then she saw right through me. No matter how I denied that I wasn’t gay, she saw me.

She could see me. She could see my real feelings, probably better than anyone else ever did. I felt raw. Naked. Exposed.

Even once she was really dead, Sherlock and I never truly went back to normal. He looked at me differently. I never identified the look in his eyes our final year together. Sadness? Fear? Pity? He hid his emotions well, very well. But I could still see that hint of something there that felt cold. And it broke me.

I felt like he knew. Maybe she had told him my true feelings. Maybe he pitied me? Maybe he couldn’t see me the same, knowing I had feelings for him? Maybe he was afraid that I couldn’t truly be his friend without my feelings getting in the way?

I’ve driven myself insane with the maybes. I’ve gone over it again and again. It still keeps me up at night. What did those looks mean? I will never know, now.

When everything happened with Moriarty, it shook me to my core. Not the cases, not the insanity of the man who was chasing Sherlock, but how hard Sherlock pushed me to believe he was a liar in the end. I could not, would not ever believe that. I still do not believe that.

Sherlock was magnificent. He was brilliant. And beautiful. He came into my life and hijacked it entirely and it was the best thing to ever happen to me. None of my past experiences nor my future ones will ever compare to the part of my life I shared with him.

I could never have written this down with him still alive. If I had ever acknowledged this much, even to myself in private, he would have known and it would have broken us. But now he’s gone. And I’m left with this.

If I ever had a soulmate on this earth, it was him. I knew on some level from the night we met. More than how alluring he was both mentally and physically, something drew me to him. Something I doubt I will ever feel with another human being. With him, I felt complete in a way I never had before.

And never will again.

God, I can’t continue writing this. What’s my relationship to Sherlock Holmes? I don’t know what I was to him. But he was my soulmate. And now he’s dead.

[againstallelse]

[againstallelse]

“He whispered into my ear again so gently that it was all that I could do to distinguish the words.”

[againstallelse]

[againstallelse]

Sherlock’s full body shots in The Sign of Three.

[againstallelse]

“No time”

Yay! I’ve finally finished this commission, and I have to thank my lovely client for her kindness - and I take the opportunity to thank all the clients that are patiently waiting for their commissions!

Once again, I had to draw two characters I really love (even if I don’t ship them): our beloved John and Sherlock from BBC’s Sherlock.

I decided to name this drawing after a verse from a wonderful song by M83, Wait. I really love this group and, without any specific reason, I listened to this song while I was drawing this piece. The lyrics of the song push us not to dwell too much on the past pains of life and do not waste our time. Somehow, it seemed to fit well with the sense of desire and urgency that I had been required to put into this commission.

Hope you like it!

PLEASE, DON’T REPOST! THANKS! :)

COMMISSION INFO

[againstallelse]

Sherlock Holmes- Rolling eyes

[againstallelse]

Open Starter: Familiar Scenery

John sat patiently in his chair, cup of tea in hand. He was doing his best to keep his breathing even. Rosie sat on the couch, playing with some of the toys Sherlock had bought her for when they visited. She looked pleased, pulling herself up to slide the blocks along the top of the couch, making car sounds. The sight helped put John at ease, at least she seemed happy here.

He had been deep in a debate for the past few weeks. Sherlock had noticed, but dropped it quickly upon realizing that John didn’t want to discuss it. The lease on his house was almost up and he had a decision to make.

The home they were in was spendy, especially just for the two of them. It was far more room than they really needed. Some part of him wanted to stay, let Rosie grow up in the house she had been raised by her mother in. But the memories of Mary weren’t what he wanted front and center every day of his life. He wanted to focus on what was here and now. Thinking back on the past was just depressing.

When he had called his sister, she had made an interesting offer. She had a place with more than enough room for the three of them, a very free schedule, and had recently been to rehab. It sounded promising. Except she was living in Bristol.

Could he even entertain the idea of leaving London? Being over a hundred miles away from Sherlock? What would that mean for their cases, for their relationship?

Eventually, he came to a decision. Sherlock wasn’t home, but John had never taken 221B’s key off his keyring. He had let Rosie and himself inside, and there they waited to tell him the news.

[againstallelse]

The Only Way is Sussex ~♡

Bzzz! Sherlock the beekeeper and blogger John.

Retirementlock commission for the lovely welovethebeekeeper ! :)

[againstallelse]

[againstallelse]

I’ve returned from my trip, finally. I’m excited to pick my writing back up. If anyone wants to start something new, let me know.

[againstallelse]

Hello all. A family situation popped up, requiring an emergency trip across country to pick up and move family members. I likely won't be online- or if I do it'll be few and far between. My roleplay replies, if I have time to reply, won't be as high in quality since I will be typing on my phone. Thank you for your patience!

[againstallelse]

Are group chats genuinely only available on mobile? Did tumblr seriously think that was a good idea?