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[oh-dear-watson]

[oh-dear-watson]

some nights harry needs to love draco for both of them and that’s okay

[oh-dear-watson]

Watching @marcespot‘s Garridebs video again and I’m imagining Sherlock repeatedly trying to call John, words ready on his lips, “John, you won’t believe this, I found the note, it was real and-”

But, the phone rings and rings and rings, and John does not pick up. The bottom drops out of Sherlock’s stomach but he refuses to let himself panic, not yet, as he gets a taxi to John’s therapist.

He raps on the door, short and sharp. Nothing. He waits, and rocks back and forward on the balls of his heels in nervous impatience. He huffs out, “Come on,” and hammers on the door this time. Again, nothing.

The panic starts to kick in. He cups his hands around his mouth and calls: “John! John?!” His eyes narrow, darting around, thinking, processing. He runs around to the back door, tries to peer inside.

At first glance, the room looks empty. Just two chairs- one for the therapist and one for… 

And then Sherlock’s blood runs cold.

John is lying there, half on that red fur rug. Sherlock slams his hand on the window, bang bang bang, oh god- “John! John, can you hear me? John!”

Sherlock runs back and then slams himself into the glass door until it breaks. “John!”

John’s head stirs just the slightest at the noise. Sherlock runs and bends down in front of him, and doesn’t know if he’s grateful for the red rug or not. John is. John. His John has been shot.

He phones Lestrade, barks out the address, and lets his phone fall. He reaches forward and slaps John’s face, hard. “John! Wake up, wake up!”

John jolts a little, but his eyes don’t open. 

“John. John, you need to wake up. Who did this to you? J-John, please.”

Through John’s laboured breathing, Sherlock is sure he can just about hear a faint “Sher…” Hands shaking, he slaps John’s cheeks again, desperate. 

“John? John, please. There’s- there’s something-” Sherlock’s eyes well all at once, hot and painful with tears. “There’s something you need to know.” 

John gasps, his chest heaving, and Sherlock tries to block out the sight of the blood. John’s eyes flutter, and then they open, but they are horrifically glassy. Sherlock does not know what he could be seeing. And that terrifies him. 

He bends down further, his face hovering above John’s. “John?”

John grunts and his eyes open a little wider. He looks straight past Sherlock as if he isn’t there, and then glances down at his own chest. He groans. “No…no…”

“John, please! Listen to me. You- you need to tell me- you need to tell me how to save you.”

There are tears of pain streaking down John’s cheeks now, and Sherlock’s heart is breaking. “No… it’s…s’too late…”

“No!” It comes out far louder than Sherlock intended. He continues, softer, urgent: “No, it’s not too late. Now I’m- I’m just an idiot but- you, you can show me-”

John’s eyes roll back. “M’lost-m’sorry-”

Sherlock lunges forward, takes one of John’s hands and clasps it tight. “You’re not lost anymore,” he whispers and he can feel his own dam starting to break, the first tears escaping. “I’m here. I’m here, now.”

John eyes flicker open again. For one moment, he actually catches Sherlock’s eyes, as if he’s finally seeing him, and Sherlock could weep for joy. 

John’s gaze slides to Sherlock’s hand covering his own. Sherlock’s knuckles are white, his hand shaking. John guides them to his own chest. “Pressure,” he murmurs, before his eyes close again.

Sherlock grits his teeth, and presses down with all his might. John screams with the pain, and it’s the most awful sound Sherlock has ever heard.

“Oh, oh God. John. You’re- you’re going to have to be really brave for me, okay? Christ. Soldier. There you go, that’s right, nothing to it-”

The blare of a siren approaches. All that matters is John is still breathing.

Sherlock keeps pushing down on John’s chest. “There you are- y-you’re almost… you’re almost home, John.” 

All of a sudden, he breaks, bending forward as he sobs fully. His tears fall on John’s face. 

Outside, a screeching of brakes. 

“John. Open your eyes.”

And Sherlock gets his miracle. John’s eyes open and they look right into Sherlock’s. They widen, and Sherlock knows in his heart that John can finally see him.

And, in the end, the words that follow come so easily:

“I love you,” Sherlock says. It’s the most certain he’s ever been in his life. 

John smiles.

@waitedforgarridebs Also on Ao3 here.

[oh-dear-watson]

You will find your happiness tonight

John is crying and the sound of it shakes Sherlock to the core. Broken sobs. Uncontrolled, loud and desperate. John is crying and Sherlock holds him. Still unsure, still full of fear, John might push him away at any moment. But John doesn’t push him away.

“It is what it is,” Sherlock says softly into John’s hair. And closes his eyes.

It is what it is …

At some point, the sobbing ceases. John looks up and wipes his eyes. He turns away, and Sherlock lets him out of the embrace.

Immediately, he misses John’s warmth, and he is standing there, watching John stumble into the kitchen, tearing a piece from the kitchen roll on the table. He rubs it violently over his wet eyes.

It’s too quiet in the apartment. There is a strange tension in the air between them. Sherlock is nervous. He fumbles with a loose thread, which he has torn from his dressing gown. 

Then John turns and looks at him. John’s eyes are red and still moist. His face is pale and tense. Sherlock swallows. Again, the quiet fear creeps up in him.

He will say it now … He will say …

“Thank you, Sherlock,” John says seriously.

Sherlock looks at him in astonishment.

“Thank you,” says John again.

They look at each other in silence. It is not an unpleasant silence.

At some point, John says, “Are you hungry? I could eat a horse right now.” Sherlock nods. “I’m starving.”

John laughs briefly.

*

They order Chinese noodles, spring rolls and fortune cookies. When John opens his, he reads it and one of his eyebrows twitches up. He puts the piece of paper aside.

“What’s in yours?” Sherlock asks, moderately interested. His own tells him, “You’ll find the adventure, or the adventure finds you.” He’s pretty sure the cookie is at least 7 years too late.

John pushes the paper towards him.

“You will find your happiness tonight. Keep your eyes open.” Sherlock swallows. “Nice saying,” he says casually.

John nods with his head down. He does not eat the biscuit. In the end, Sherlock eats it. It has a bitter taste.

*

“I’ll go to sleep. Rosie is at Molly’s. She says it’s okay … ” “Ok.” “Do I need … something?” “No. Your room is unchanged. I think Mrs. Hudson dusted in there once. But everything is like … before. ” “Great. Well … good night then. ” “Good night, John.”

*

In the middle of the night, Sherlock is awakened by a scream. John … Sherlock gets out of bed and staggers up the stairs.

John is sitting upright in bed. Sherlock can hear him breathing. Heavy and hectic. He feels for the light. Flips it. They both blink at the sudden brightness.

“John,” says Sherlock, worried. “Is everything ok?”

John looks at him, confused, and runs a hand through his sweaty hair. “I … I’ve been dreaming. Never … I’ve never had these nightmares here. Why now …” His voice breaks. He seems close to crying again. “That’s pathetic,” he mutters.

Sherlock shakes his head. “It’s not. That … it was a hard time and … you have to process it.”

John looks at him and smiles. “You’re not really a sociopath, are you?”

Sherlock blinks with confusion written on his face.

John sighs and stands up. “I have to go to the bathroom,” he mumbles. Sherlock steps to the side to let him through. John walks towards the bathroom, and Sherlock stays in the doorway. Confused and sleepy. When John returns, he goes back to bed without a word. He lies down on his back. His arms behind his head.

Sherlock clears his throat. “I’ll … go again then. Good night.” He turns around, and takes a step. Then he hears John say softly, “Stay here.”

Sherlock freezes. “What?” He asks unintentionally.

“Stay here,” says John again. A bit louder this time. And then, “please.“

Sherlock swallows. He turns to John. John, who is lying in bed and looking serious. It’s no joke … He’s serious. “Okay,” says Sherlock. And John smiles.

*

“Sherlock. Sherlock! Breathe slower. You sound like you’re going to have a heart attack!” “I apologize. I …” “Have you never shared a bed with someone before?” “No. No, I, are you sure I should stay here … I could sleep on the floor … ” “Sherlock! Sorry, that was too loud. Sherlock, I want you here, ok?” “Yes. Okay, yes. ” …

“I’m an idiot.” “No, John. You’re not.” “But. I … I hurt you. Really hurt. I’m the biggest asshole you can imagine … ” “No.” “I’m sorry.” “I know.” “For real.” “I know.”

…

“Sherlock?” “Yes?” “Where are the scars on your back from?” “I … how do you know about them? How?!” “Hey, hey, please stay here. Stay … I’ve seen them in the hospital. I was there when the doctor treated your ribs. I’m sorry. You do not have to talk about it, I … ” “Serbia.” “Serbia?” “My last mission before I could return was in Serbia. At that time. When I … was dead. ” “Oh.” “I was caught. They tortured me. ” “Oh, God, Sherlock!” “Mycroft got me out eventually. I thought … I thought I was going to die there. And that … I’d never see you again. That was worse than the punches. ” “Oh my God … I threw you to the ground. In the restaurant … ” “It’s okay, John. You didn’t know …” “It’s not okay. God.” …

“Are you crying?” “No … no, I … I’m not crying.” “It’s okay. Let it out, Sherlock. Let it out. Sometimes … you have to. Come here. Just come here. Let me … here, that’s it. Let it out …”

*

The sun rises and John kisses him.

It’s a brief kiss on the lips. Careful. A touch of warmth.

At first Sherlock thinks, it’s a dream. But then John kisses him again. This time longer. Firm. More certain.

Sherlock’s heart is racing. His breath escapes trembling.

John stares at him and for a moment he looks like he’s about to apologize.

“Don’t,” Sherlock whispers, before he can say anything and kisses him back.

John chokes out a sound which resembles a sob, as their lips meet. Suddenly, Sherlock has John’s hand in his hair, and it is so beautiful that tears rise into his eyes.

They seem to kiss for an eternity.

As they seperate, a bit breathless, they look into each other’s eyes.

John speaks first. “The fortune cookie,” he breathes out and smiles.

Sherlock laughs briefly and a bit choked. “The fortune cookie.”

Corrected by @bakerstreet-irregular <3

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Weiterlesen

[oh-dear-watson]

Martin freeman from Financial Times(x)

[oh-dear-watson]

New Fandom Classics: Best Sherlock Fics of 2016

These are the top 20 Sherlock (TV) fics on the AO3 completed during 2016, ranked by number of kudos.

All the Best and Brightest Creatures by wordstrings, (E, 188k) Case/Romance

Oh, What a Night by penumbra (M, comic) post-HLV

Darkling, I Listen by You_Light_the_Sky (T, 73k) Magical Realism/Fairy Tale AU

Promised by AngelsofGlory666 (E, 172k) Omegaverse

between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (T, 108k) Epistolary

A Fold in the Universe by darkest_bird (E, 153k) Omegaverse

An Acquired Taste by kinklock (E, 31k) Vampire AU

Wars We Fought, Things We’re Not by blueink3 (M, 55k) Post Season 3

In Need of Quiet Affection and Gentle Words by kinklock (E, 17k) Humour/Alternate First Meeting

No Ordinary Cats by philalethia (G, 9k) Cats AU

It won’t be the War that kills you… by superblue (E, 122k) Omegaverse

In A Changing Age by allonsys_girl (E, 16k) Victorian AU

Deflowered—Director’s Cut by Lorelei_Lee (E, 328k) Mafia/Rentboy AU

The Ground Beneath Your Feet by Chryse (E, 69k) Hurt/Comfort

The Words Left Unspoken by Watermelonsmellinfelon (M, 3k) Soulmate AU

Watson’s Folly by DianaWilliams (M, 299k) Omegaverse

An Unusal Association by RoseAngel (T, 117k) Vampire/Werewolf AU

Your Perfect Offering by CaitlinFairchild (E, 45k) Hurt/Comfort

“finally kiss the bloody idiot” by Salmbo06 (E, 30k) Fake Relationship/Pining

The Vision by cloud_wolfbane (M, 38k) Soulmate AU

[oh-dear-watson]

Three of the nicest men I’ve ever met…..

[oh-dear-watson]

the cutest thing on the world 🐼

[oh-dear-watson]

Amanda Coe

SHERLOCK FANDOM

 Hey, um. I’ve been thinking last night, guys. Try to say out loud “Amanda Coe”. And then say “Arthur Conan Doyle”. Doesn’t it sound bit similar???

dunno, maybe it’s just me, but... it keps disturbing me that these names are actually rhyming.

[oh-dear-watson]

reblog if you will always ship johnlock no matter what 

[oh-dear-watson]

I’m seeing the pain, seeing the pleasure

one edit a day (40k celebration!!) // 7/30

[oh-dear-watson]

by Scott Council (x, x)

[oh-dear-watson]

draco malfoy gif

[oh-dear-watson]

Boy who didn’t have the choice.

[oh-dear-watson]

“On social media, you see the extraordinary paintings that people do, and the fanfiction around, it’s just extraordinary. I love the symbiotic nature of the audience to the program. I love the way that it actually excites the creativity within the audience. I think that’s a really wonderful thing.” – Rupert Graves on the Sherlock fandom

[oh-dear-watson]

[oh-dear-watson]

On April 10th, 1912, the RMS Titanic left Southampton at noon to begin her maiden voyage to New York.