#hurt sherlock

[cupidford]

A Doctor in the House by KittenKin

S3 fix it. Sherlock returns, with John immediately taking care of him as his doctor. John uses index cards as a guide to speaking with him, and Sherlock in turn has questions.

Johnlock Love Letters #2305

[paulineholmes02]

Another illustration for my story named Haunted by the Past😇

He must have looked nothing short of crestfallen—after all, here he was, sitting on the toilet lid with his hands folded in his lap and his face buried in his best friend’s stomach—but so be it.

"Back to our conversation… Anderson is a dim-witted moron who’s just jealous of you because you’re better than the entire police force combined…." John stated as he ran his hand through the ebony locks. "Your deductions are absolutely admirable and beneficial to the whole city, if not all of England, and you must be a complete idiot if you can’t see that!" he berated him without actual venom.

~ Chapter 20, Haunted by the Past by PaulineHolmes02 ~

[makkis-meanderings]

I grew up being gaslit and queerbaited by media, now you're trying to tell me that I shouldn't be filtering AO3 by >10,000 words, angst, hurt/comfort, canon divergence, pining??

what do you want from me fr??

[abstractfrog]

My comic for The Retired Colourman! I love this scene between Mariana and Sherlock sm

[firstofficerkittycat]

post naked time kirk knocking on spocks door in the middle of the night like sorry to wake you but we really need to look over this report for tomorrow and when the door closes he touches his face where he hit him and says im sorry and spock says i know and he just collapses into his arms crying and when he can breathe again he says i wish things were different and spocks like they were different once it stands to reason that they will be again and kirk says in our lifetime i hope and then they replicate chinese food and watch the secret life of sherlock holmes

[deancaslvr]

What I love about fanfiction is that it has endless possibilities and creative freedom, like even though it can be just endless stories about two characters/ a ship every story is different and written in a different expression even if the general plotline is the same.

it isn’t the characters that make fanfic beautiful, it’s the countless amount of writers and them spilling a piece of themselves into there work

it’s truly wonderful.

[tremendously-crazy]

there are unexplored levels of awe-inspiring feminine rage energy in Kitty Winter and she does not get enough love and appreciation

[thinwhitedoc]

SHERLOCK | Martin Freeman as John Watson

[sygneth]

Holmes College Adventures Masterpost Chapter 2: part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8 AO3

you could make a career out of this

Pros of going to the country: - I can lie in the forest moss for hours - inner peace - inspiration for drawing them in the country Cons of going to the country: - having only my old broken tablet so drawing is painful (didn't stop me though)

[gregorovitch-adler]

An Intimate Friendship

CW: Slight Violence and Nightmare.

--

A loud bang from opening fire, and there he was, lying flat on his back, dead, bleeding through his right temple.

*

Watson sat bolt upright on his bed, staring at the wall in front of him in his bedroom in horror. He took the napkin from his pillow and wiped the sweat from his face, taking quick and shallow breaths in the process.

As his breathing returned to normal, he recalled his nightmare and frowned at it. Or rather, he frowned at the sheer realism and vividness of it.

If such a day were to come for real in his life, if his life were to end in this way, would anyone care?

Watson gave out a soft, mirthless chuckle. Who would? The public of England talked about the detective and the wonders that the said detective had done in the field of criminology, quite rightfully so.

As for Watson himself, well, he was just a humble and clueless man. He wondered whether the world would even blink an eye if he were to pass away someday.

Watson swallowed and got up from his bed and stepped out of his room to get some air.

He was met with the sight of Holmes having an intense conversation with someone in the living room. Watson raised his brow at the thought of visitors at this odd hour.

Watson did not wish to interrupt, so he decided to go back to his room. However, the intense whispers were quite distracting.

Curiosity got the better of him in the end, and Watson stopped halfway through closing the door of his bedchamber. He cocked an ear to give a part of that conversation a listen, even though he knew how extremely rude eavesdropping was.

"... but what you are asking is to make Watson a bait in the case this time, which I absolutely refuse. You will have to look for a different method, officer. The killer will have to pass through me if Watson has to die. He is my intimate friend..."

Watson finally closed the door and leaned against it, smiling brightly to himself. He did not know about the world, nor did he care, but he now knew that there was at least one person who would blink an eye. Probably more than just that.

Watson walked over to his bed and lay down. He knew he was going to sleep better now.

*

May Prompts: Eavesdropping and Nightmare.

Tags: @keirgreeneyes , @calaisreno , @topsyturvy-turtely , @helloliriels , @jamielovesjam , @lisbeth-kk , @peanitbear , @totallysilvergirl, @gaylilsherlock .

[cupidford]

Whatever Remains, However Improbable by LittleFluffyClouds

Sherlock’s decision to engage a suspected murderer by himself goes badly, leaving him confined to Baker Street to recover. (Johnlock and Mystrade)

Missing Johnlock Love Letters #2288

[paulineholmes02]

Hurt

Illustration for my story Haunted by the Past by PaulineHolmes02

[raina-at]

Journey

Warning: You guys, this one HURTS. Seriously. Trigger warning for death, grief, sadness.

Proceed at your own risk. And don't yell at me afterwards if you proceeded anyway and this hurt you. You were warned.

----

There’s a bit of dirt on her dress. If she had to guess, she’d say it’s probably Jo’s fault. But she’s Sherlock Holmes’ daughter, so she doesn’t guess. She deduces.

She wets her finger, picks up a crumb.

Rice cake. Raspberry flavour. Jo’s favourite.

She brushes it off. Then she fixes her hair. Checks her shoes.

Anything to delay. Anything to put off this particular journey for a few more seconds.

She meets her own eyes in the mirror. “Come on, Watson,” she whispers. “You can do this. You have to do this. Remember your promise.”

Look out for him, he’d said to her. Before he couldn’t speak anymore. Look out for each other. 

Fuck, she’s crying already. 

No. She bites the inside of her cheek and keeps the tears in. 

She had forty years of parenting. Now she needs to step up. She needs to be strong. 

She nods at herself one last time in the mirror, then goes down the corridor to the bedroom door. She knocks, just once. “Are you ready?”

The silence that greets her is ever so slightly sarcastic.

Stupid question, she chides herself. “Let me rephrase. Are you dressed?”

He opens the door. Of course he’s immaculate. The black suit fits him perfectly, and even though age has somewhat diminished his ramrod straightness, he still looks distinguished and elegant without much effort. His face is a study of outward stoicism, and if Rosie hadn’t known him her entire life, she wouldn’t have noticed how much of a strain it is for him to take even a single step.

This is hell for her. She can’t even imagine what it’s like for him.

But she was raised by two British men of a certain age, and public displays of emotion make her as viscerally uncomfortable as it does them, therefore she knows how important it is to him to keep his composure in public.

They did a lot of crying together when it happened. Though quite honestly, it was a relief when it was finally over. The weeks and months prior were pure hell, for all of them. Dad was always a dignified man whose autonomy was important to him. When he refused further treatment, she supported him, and so did Paps. 

It’s the circle of life, she knows this. They help you into this world, you help them out of it. You travel together for a time, and then you have to let them go.  And it’s her duty to accompany him on this last leg of his journey. 

But she has a more important responsibility. 

She holds out her hand, and Paps takes it. They help each other into their coats. Paps’ coat is unchanged, and she wonders what he paid for this one. Every time one of his coats gives out, he has one made. With the same red embroidery around the buttonhole.

“Where’s Jo?” Paps asks, the first words he said all morning. 

“Mark’s taking her. They’re meeting us there.” 

He nods in acknowledgement. 

They walk outside. It’s incongruously sunny. It’s cold, and windy, and she’s glad for her coat. 

Should it be sunny, on a day like this?

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun, she thinks. 

But no. The hard part is that life goes on. That nothing stops even for a second, just because your heart is ashes. Dinner, errands, bedtime stories, maths tests, patients, laundry, paperwork, bills. 

Ironically it makes it easier, for her. That she has something to do. That she has somewhere to go. That she’s not in the home they shared alone, staring at the walls, remembering.

“Paps,” she says, turning around, leaning against the car. “There’s something…” she takes a breath. “I wanted to ask you something.”

He makes a gesture for her to continue, but his eyes are on the horizon, and she knows he’s far away, locked somewhere in his mind palace to get through the day.

“Admin is putting a lot of pressure on me to take more hours. Department can’t afford another hire, they need shifts covered, et cetera. And we need the money. But it means I’d have twelve-hour shifts again, and Mark’s rarely home before six. Jo comes home from school at four. That’s two hours I don’t know how to cover.”

He looks at her, uncomprehending. You need to be more clear, she reminds herself. He’s not at his best today. “221A is empty. I thought, maybe…” she trails off, making a ‘you fill in the gaps’ kind of gesture. Then she takes a deep breath and fills in the gaps herself. “I thought you might want to come home?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments. He’s watching the horizon with a far away expression. Then he looks at her and gives her a slight smile. “I play the violin at three in the morning. And I sometimes don’t talk for days. Would that bother you?”

“I lived with you for twenty-four years, Paps. I think I’ll be fine,” Rosie says dryly, but she’s biting her cheek to keep the tears in again, because she knows what he’s thinking.

Full circle. 

He nods at her, just once. “I noticed little Watson’s maths needs some polishing,” he says, with a trace of his old self shining through. “And quite frankly, her chess skills are appalling.”

“I expect you to turn her into a grand master by the time she’s twelve,” Rosie says, and discovers that it’s, after all, possible to smile.

They both stand in the sun for a second, letting the small glimmer of joy warm them. 

Then Paps sighs. “It’s time, isn’t it.”

Rosie nods, and this time, she doesn’t check her tears. 

“Should I drive?” Paps asks, gently.

She just gives him a look, and he chuckles. “Fair enough.” He nods at the car, then puts a hand on her shoulder. “Into battle, Watson.”

She nods. Wipes her tears. Takes his hand. “Into battle, Holmes.”

-------

Rosie is quoting a line from Funeral Blues by WH Auden.

I'm not going to apologise for making you sad. I warned you. Remember that before you yell at me in the comments.

May is almost over, you guys. How did that happen?!

Tags under the cut as always, please notfiy me if you want to be taggeed or untagged.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @jrow @peanitbear @jolieblack @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee @dapetty @salmonsown

[aloe-plant-yippee]

this was literally sherlock like half way thru the ep, it was so funny john being like put your hands up and sherlock was just “no <3”

[topsyturvy-turtely]

turtely's OTP challenge!

now on AO3! (tumblr link)

read the (slightly improved) 7th part here:

summary: When Mrs. Hudson passes away, the unusual family of three is devastated. Sherlock shuts off, Rosie cries every day and John is desperately trying to keep it together for their sake.

Until one day, Rosie asks for "Lock", and the great detective shows a talent John wasn't aware of yet.

General Audience, 2112 Words. Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash, Parent!lock, Minor Character Death, it's sad i am sorry, but it is REEEEAAALLLLY sweet, i promise you won't regret reading this. (i mean you never know but i tried my best to make this rude prompt into something wholesome still)

tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed please 💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @catlock-holmes @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @baker-street-blog @macgyvershe @myladylyssa @battledress @a-victorian-girl @dreamerofthemeadow @oetkb12 @ohnoesnotagain @mutedsilence @jawnscoffee @raenchaosandcozyadashofmurder @lisbeth-kk @quickslvxrr @compact-and-beautiful @kabubsmagga @sunshineinyourmind

[jaime-moriarty]

The poem I posted was a lie. Today is not a good day.

I have metal bars in my mouth now because my teeth are screwed up. And I have to wait a week to get rubber bands.

Follow up to that. It hurt. And Moran took me. So there was no support while I began the first stage of becoming a Cyborg.

@ccjimmoriarty my face hurts, and you need to pick up more Ibuprofen.