#sherlock drabble

[meetinginsamarra]

Sherlock BBC drabble for Wednesday 100 writing challenge “Mark”

My first ever drabble for @100wednesday 

Prompt “MARK”

------------------------

Today marks the hundredth day after my fall. Is there any significance in numbers?

Should I have cried one hundred tears, leaving John? I cried many more.

Have thought of John one hundred times? Hunting down Moriarty´s web to protect John, I did, every day.

Would I kill one hundred men to return to John? There are 27 dead now.

Take one hundred scars, keeping John safe? I have 15 already.

While I hide in this dark cellar, bleeding, cold and alone, I know the only important mark is four. Four words I should have said.

I love you, John.

-------------------------

This has been fun and difficult at the same time. @helloliriels tagged me and the idea came to me as a surprise shortly after. It is difficult to tell a story or portray a scene which makes sense and has a meaning to it in only 100 words. I hope I succeeded.

[with-a-ghost-mr-holmes]

Fluffbruary: Day 15

Drowsy Sherlock is John’s favourite kind of Sherlock. John just loves the pillow talk with him. It’s never declarations of undying love or sharing their deep, dark fears. Rather, it’s Sherlock sharing nuggets of his vast knowledge about the most varied topics.

For example, he tells John that a shrimp’s heart is in its head. Or that humans have tongue prints.

And John counters by telling him how British military tanks are equipped to make tea.

Once, Sherlock mumbled that the correct term for a hashtag is actually “octothorpe.”

John finds all of it amusing and weird, and endlessly endearing.

Tags:

@fluffbruary @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @helloliriels @peanitbear @pressurepoint221 @dubiouslynamed @yellowpamonha @ehuether @lgcgjd @gomielka @kittenmadnessandtea @chriscalledmesweetie @justnerdystuffs @missdeliadili @topsyturvy-turtely @fullyouthwerewolf @chinike @iamjustreading @effulgentcorruptedpov @strawberrywinter4 @seagoing-nerd @annaofthenorthernlights @keirgreeneyes @brightbquirky @mazaherstuff @naefelldaurk @kettykika78 @whatnext2020 @dinner--starving @under-loch-n-key @inevitably-johnlocked  @safedistancefrombeingsmart @meetinginsamarra @gaylilsherlock @snonkerdoodlefizzy221b @7-percent @discordantwords @221beloved @sabsi221b @khorazir @johnlockismyreligion

Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

And an immense THANK YOU for reblogging/leaving comments/liking my stuff. It means the world to me, and interacting with the fandom is one of my biggest joys! 🥰

[princessaxoxo]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。Masterlist 　ﾟ･｡🌷͙֒

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 💌

𝘣𝘶𝘺 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 ˚₊‧꒰ა 𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ✿ 𝘢𝘰3 ✿ 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥 ✿ 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘰𝘯

𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 - 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘥-𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘣𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘴. 𝘪 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘰3, 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳.

𝘔𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 18+ 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺.

𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘪 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞, 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬. 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

𝓗𝓮𝓷𝓻𝔂 𝓒𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓵𝓵

𝓖𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓵𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓡𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓪

𝓜𝓲𝓴𝓮

𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓚𝓮𝓷𝓽

𝓐𝓾𝓰𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓦𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓮𝓻

𝓢𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓶𝓮𝓼

𝓦𝓪𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓵

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓑𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓷

𝓒𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓢𝔂𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷

𝓚𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓷/𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓰𝓲 𝓚𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓯𝓯

𝒻𝓁𝓊𝒻𝒻: ꕤ 𝓈𝓂𝓊𝓉: 🍒 𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈𝓉: ❦

[j-eryewrites]

Stressed Out

MAIN MASTER LIST

Word Count: 1.k <

Warnings: Not really any, kind of ooc Sherlock (but who cares)

Author's Note: Finally feeling like I have time to write and that the writing gods have been in my favor. This was a fun little one-shot to write. While I'm still trying to get back into my writing groove, this one shot definitely helped get some of the dust off my creative writing brain. So, thank you @my-dear-sweet-melody for requesting this one. I hope you enjoy it!

You weren’t sure how you’d been doing it: managing the day-to-day lives of two people who also happened to be good friends of yours, assisting Sherlock with cases, seeing things you’d never thought you’d see in your lifetime (both good and bad), juggling relationships, your own well-being and health, and time to relax. Although it seemed like you had less and less time to do the things concerning yourself. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but when you were thrust into the world of Sherlock Holmes, more important things came into play.

Sherlock was the first to notice how the stress was weighing on you. It was a total shock when he casually announced your current state to John. The moment the words of concern were uttered from Sherlock’s lips, the puzzle in John’s mind had been completed. With the help of Mrs. Hudson, the two men began to conspire to make life easier for their dear friend.

At first, Sherlock’s conscious decision to wash his dishes and put them away in the correct cabinets struck you as odd. Sherlock’s mind was usually too busy for such arbitrary tasks, and such magnificent brain power couldn’t be wasted on such a thing. Then came the tidiness of his experiments. You could swear you hadn’t seen a stray finger or eyeball dissolving in vinegar for quite some time.

When you had asked Sherlock about his new behavior, he shrugged it off with some wildly strange research idea he had come up with. You tried to follow along, but your brain began to hurt after a moment, so you opted to believe him instead.

Meanwhile, John took extra care to charge his and Sherlock’s devices. He knew no matter how brilliant Sherlock was, the man seemingly ceased to forget that computers, phones, and the lot needed to be charged via a charging cord and port. On the other hand, Mrs. Hudson made the note to prepare extra tea and biscuits to save yourself the trouble of doing that for Sherlock and John.

Now, you felt no need to question John and Mrs.Hudson’s new behavior. It was in character for them to do small things like that. However, you continued to question Sherlock; he grew tired of it. Why couldn’t you see that he cared for you, too? That maybe he cared a bit more for you than he should. He was growing weary of the excuses he made to your insistent questions when all he wanted to do was throw them up and tell you the truth. Truthfully, the truth was something he insisted upon. Sherlock always found it one way or another. Yet, he could only fib when you had a new query about his altered behavior. Was it hard for you to understand that Sherlock could care? That he, too, could be human?

“Sherlock,” you called as you sat on the couch, pouring over the current case. It was usually your job to organize each thing into its Sherlockian category to save Sherlock his brain power. However, when you opened the file, it had already been done. “Did I happen to organize this in my sleep?” You raised the file and peered at him. Sherlock felt his mind conjure up the latest lie. Just before it left his mouth, he paused. He got up and marched to the window, where he began to gaze out onto the street below. He couldn’t lie anymore. He had to tell you the truth.

“I organized it,” Sherlock said.

You froze. Something was seriously wrong with the man if he was now organizing his own cases. “Sherlock, you never orga–”

“Why can’t I?” Sherlock’s voice grew tense. His eyes clenched shut, all while his back was still towards you. He wouldn’t dare look at you. He knew if he saw your eyes, he’d crumble and tell you everything, but everything was what you needed to hear. Everything was what he needed to say.

“I never said you couldn’t. It’s just,” you faltered, “…strange.”

Within a moment, Sherlock whirled around. His icy blue eyes began to thaw under your gaze. “I observed you have stressed: Your trousers falling to your hips instead of hanging snuggly on your waist, the dark circles under your eyes that only grew prominent by the day, the growing urge to sleep instead of join Mrs. Hudson for the weekly watch party of the latest soap opera,” Sherlock shut his mouth. He had said too much already; he shouldn’t say more, but his lips moved again. “I wasn’t the only one who noticed, John and Mrs. Hudson, too. We devised a plan to lessen the blow of our–my constant mess.”

As Sherlock spoke, you realized his words were only the truth. You had noticed you suddenly had more time to eat a meal, spend time with your favorite landlady, who was more like a mother, go on walks in the park with John, listen to Sherlock compose his latest piece, sleep, and live life as it should be lived. Amidst Sherlock’s rambling, you whispered, “Why?”

“Because we–because I care you for,” Sherlock choked.

Slowly, you remove yourself from the comfort of the couch cushions and find a place in front of Sherlock. You watch as Sherlock shudders from the touch of your hand on his cheek. “Thank you,” you said as a smile grew. “Thank you for caring when I forgot to take care of myself. Although…”

Sherlock frowned.

“…while I appreciate the sentiment of you organizing your own cases, John charging the computers, and Mrs. Hudson always preparing tea, I’d still like to be able to do my job. After all, the great Sherlock Holmes still needs to use his brain power to solve cases and save the day.”

Sherlock could only smile at that response for he'd give you anything you'd ask. "Of course. Of course, Y/N."

____

Comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list! Please comment or reblog if you can; I want to hear from you.

Tag list:

@bartokthealbinobat

@astudyinlaura

@sherlockstrangewolf

@yourleastfavoriteguyinthechair

@biggerthancalli13

@themartiansdaughter

@sunsumonner 

@silversword7000

@starlightaurorab

@my-dear-sweet-melody

@neroarrow83

@khaleesihavilliard

@agentxx92

@myszur-blog

@halestorm0707

_____

[strangelockd]

I hope whatever fictional your fixating on visits you.

I hope they visit you in your dreams. Smothering you with all the love and admiration that you so richly deserve.

May you feel them hug you tightly, assuring you that everything will be ok.

The delicate words slip out of there lips while they stroke your hair kissing you softly as there soft caress lulls you to a peaceful sleep.

“You are safe

You are loved

I’ll never let you go…”

💐

[softestqueeen]

let the light in

pairing: sherlock holmes x reader

summary: After a particularly frustrating case, all the consulting detective needs, is closeness.

warnings: just pure teeth rotting fluff

wordcount: 904 words

a/n: just a cute little one shot with my favourite detective. the name is inspired by the song “let the light in” by Lana Del Rey, cuz I feel like it fits the vibe I was going for in the end. and now enjoy <3

His last case was one of the hardest he ever had the solve. Even though Sherlock Holmes loves the thrill of a case that really challenges him, it also frustrates him to no end if he can’t find the culprit the moment, he has all the evidence.

This case had involved multiple chases with no success, countless sleepless nights, and even more nights that he didn’t get to spend with you.

Countless nights sitting in his chair thinking, while he could hear your soft snores from down the hall.

He missed you even though he saw you every day. He saw you when you told him to eat something, when you told him to take a break, when you told him to go to sleep. But it wasn’t the same when he couldn’t really spend some quality time with you. When he couldn’t have deep conversations with you, when he couldn’t look at you, when he couldn’t hold you and really feel you.

To say he ached for you was putting it lightly.

The start of your relationship was not easy. Suddenly Sherlock had someone he really trusted. Someone who always listened to him and always cared about him. Someone who would wait and be there for him when he came home at night. Those were not things that were easy for him to get used to, especially since he had never really loved someone.

But for you he tried, and, in the end, it worked out. Still sometimes your relationship has to come second. He doesn’t like that, but he has to get his cases done, especially since he doesn’t take on that many cases anymore. He found a new thrill.

You.

When Sherlock finally entered your shared flat in the middle of the night, he didn’t expect you to be up.

But here you were, sitting in his chair, wearing on of his robes and reading what seems to be one of your way too cheesy romcoms. In the background a jazz record could be heard, one of your favourites. He couldn’t even begin to explain how relieved he was to see you.

But unfortunately, the one he thing Sherlock Holmes was horrible at asking for was the one thing he now desperately needed most.

All he wanted to do right now was hold you close and hear your voice. He wanted to really feel you with his whole being and not just feel your hand grazing his when handing him a cuppa.

He lightly knocked on the door, not wanting to startle you. You looked up from your book and immediately saw your boyfriend looking back at you. A smile now adorned your face, which caused a warm feeling to spread through the detective.

“Case solved?”, was the first question you could voice, even though a hundred more were currently going through your mind. You really hoped it was solved, because that would mean you could finally spend some time with your boyfriend again.

“Finally!”, he answered, a smile now starting to appear on his face too.

At hearing his answer, you immediately got up and hugged him for what felt like the first time in weeks, even though it could have been only a week at most.

You nuzzled into his chest while he tucked his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the smell of your body wash. 

“Why are you still up, my love?” It was not a question of importance but more one to break the silence and to finally hear more of your voice.

“Well, I couldn’t sleep and thought I would wait up for you. I’ve missed you.” Your words made Sherlock think. These days he often considered your feelings, especially when he’s doing something that could make you mad. But he never considered that not only did he miss you, but you also missed him the same. He was not the only one deprived of your touch, you couldn’t touch him either.

He unconsciously pulled you closer while he got lost in his thoughts.

“How about we go to bed, huh?” Your voice immediately put him back to reality.

“Theres nothing, I want more right now.”, he answered truthfully. You pulled away from him and took his hand in yours, already on the way to your shared bedroom.

You were already wearing your pyjamas, only wearing one of Sherlocks dressing gowns on top of them.

While you got under the covers Sherlock took off his suit before carefully placing it on a nearby chair. He also got into his pyjamas before joining you under the covers.

He immediately took a hold of your waist before pulling you into him. You were now both laying on your sides, legs intertwined, facing each other. You had one of your hands on his chest, feeling his steady and now relaxed heartbeat, while your other hand slowly drew shapes on his back.

All the while Sherlock just held you close, happy to have you close to him again.

While holding you, he wondered how he went on with life before he met you. Before you were there for him, held him close and showed him what love felt like, or that love could feel so incredibly good. But when he kissed you now, just before you fell asleep in his arms, he knew that he doesn’t need to worry about having to live without you ever again.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this little drabble, please consider giving me feedback and leaving some notes (likes, comments, reposts). please also consider checking out my ao3!

taglist: @silvermagnolias @milywatermelon

[earlgreytea68]

Advent Drabble 3 - Bathtub

For charisstoma

Sherlock hates to admit there’s anything he can’t do, but—

“What should I get John for Christmas?” he asks Mrs. Hudson. Getting a…boyfriend…a Christmas gift is simply outside of his area of expertise.

Mrs. Hudson says archly, “If I were you, I’d clean the bathtub. A proper scour.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t you just run an experiment with human ears and hydrochloric acid?”

“Human noses,” Sherlock corrected her. “But yes.”

“John loves a bath, you know.”

“I did wipe the bathtub down when I was done with it!”

“Bleach it, Sherlock Holmes. John would appreciate it.”

It turns out that John does.  

[cas-kingdom]

Ok… Don’t judge quality since I still feel horrible, but Sherlock and “Don’t start something you can’t finish”?

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Enola warned you with a piercing look that Sherlock fancied only the two of you could convey and understand.

You shot a particular look back, one that spoke a thousand words at once without you even needing to open your mouth. “Oh,” you said with a hint of amusement, “I’m perfectly capable of finishing this Aren’t I, Sherlock?”

“The truth of it often keeps me up at night,” Sherlock admitted with a mock sigh. He sat back in his seat and let a small smile tug at his lips as you suddenly looked victorious in many ways other than your obviously self-satisfied smirk.

“Well, then,” Enola said, smoothing the skirt of her dress as she crossed one leg over the other, “go ahead.”

The carriage ride from London to the Holmes’ holiday home in the Cotswolds made for excellent intellectual games, the three of you had decided. While Enola enjoyed the activities which catered to her genetic predisposition for crime-solving and decoding, something Sherlock was all too happy to partake in, you preferred putting your mind to good use within the world of literary heroes and riddle-solving, something Sherlock seemed happier to partake in, much to Enola’s exasperation. Though there was very little time in age between you and Enola, your differences, mostly how much your mental stimulation benefitted from opposing things, often amazed your brothers, Mycroft included. 

You had an hour or so left in the carriage, and you had sat dutifully through an anagram game Enola liked to play, but you had turned the tables now, insisting Shakespeare make his entrance. Enola knew you adored Shakespeare’s work and could quote many of his plays, but she also knew that Sherlock was much the same, albeit more experienced. She doubted you could best your brother in a game of wits such as this, but then, she had been away from her siblings for some time, living alone in London and finding her own path, and thus was mostly unaware of the bond you and Sherlock had revitalised between you. 

“You start,” you said, directing your question at Sherlock, who turned to gaze out the window, humming under his breath.

“‘Frailty, thy name is woman’,” he began confidently, looking back to you. Your eyes narrowed slightly in competition.

“Hamlet. ‘Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.’”

“The Tempest. ‘If music be the food of love play on’.”

It continued as such, both of you shooting Shakespearean quotes at each other and answering with the play it had come from. You seemed to have forgotten Enola was there, instead staring pointedly at each other, attempting to reign the champion.

Enola busied herself staring out the window, which was in fact nothing short of boring, until the competition behind her took a spin. You had turned swiftly to tossing Shakespearean insults at each other, something she figured happened a lot, considering how adept you seemed to be at it.

She was pushed a little unceremoniously into the side of the carriage as you were pulled towards Sherlock, his hands suddenly—uncharacteristically, if Enola had anything to say for it, though, again, she seemed to not be privy to your relationship over the past year or so—tickling. You still spewed your insults, shooting them out your mouth alongside your uproarious laughter, and Enola, despite her raised brows and gaping mouth, couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank God Mycroft isn’t here,” was all she could say.

Enola Masterpost

send me the first sentence of a fanfic and i’ll write the next five, except i don’t know when to stop writing so i guarantee there’ll be more than five

[somethingqueerisgoingonhere]

“I don’t think I could love anyone else.”

“What?” John asked into the newly broken silence.

Sherlock took a sip of his tea from where he was leaned up against the counter, “If I lost you or something, I really don’t think I’d want anyone else.”

“Lost me? Like a dog?” John asked sarcastically, taking a sip of his own tea.

“You’ve ruined me for everyone else.”

“Oh.” John said quite stupidly.

Sherlock had the decency to look embarrassed.

“I’ve ruined you?” John asked, equally as embarrassed.

“I just, don’t want anyone else.”

John smiled, “I feel the same.”

[meetinginsamarra]

Sherlock is the hundredth day away from John

drabble for wednesday 100 writing challenge, prompt "mark"

[with-a-ghost-mr-holmes]

Fluffbruary: Day 25

Looking back, it's funny, the way Sherlock manipulated the truth to get John to move in with him.

"Sometimes I don't talk for days on end." A blatant lie. He's always eager to share with John everything he knows and learns.

"I play the violin when I'm thinking." A half-truth. He does, but he didn't mention how he "plays" it (makes it screech) half the time.

Finally, the omissions. He didn't mention his experiments, or the indoors shootings.

Even if Sherlock had been completely truthful from the beginning, it wouldn't have changed anything. John loves his life with the madman.

Tags:

@fluffbruary @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @helloliriels @peanitbear @pressurepoint221 @dubiouslynamed @yellowpamonha @ehuether @lgcgjd @gomielka @kittenmadnessandtea @chriscalledmesweetie @justnerdystuffs @missdeliadili @topsyturvy-turtely @fullyouthwerewolf @chinike @iamjustreading @effulgentcorruptedpov @strawberrywinter4 @seagoing-nerd @annaofthenorthernlights @keirgreeneyes @brightbquirky @mazaherstuff @naefelldaurk @kettykika78 @whatnext2020 @dinner--starving @under-loch-n-key @inevitably-johnlocked  @safedistancefrombeingsmart @meetinginsamarra @gaylilsherlock @snonkerdoodlefizzy221b @7-percent @discordantwords @221beloved @khorazir @johnlockismyreligion @jolieblack @oetkb12

Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

And an immense THANK YOU for reblogging/leaving comments/liking my stuff. It means the world to me, and interacting with the fandom is one of my biggest joys! 🥰

[gregorovitch-adler]

Lilac

(Now on AO3)

"I like the bridesmaids in purple," said John.

"Lilac," Sherlock corrected, a sense of dread filling up in his heart. Again.

Sherlock had ensured his face to seem blank from the outside.

Sherlock was painfully aware of the symbolism. He would know. He was the one who had been doing most of the wedding planning.

Lilac: a flower used to symbolise a first love.

And Sherlock's first love? John Watson.

Being in love with his flatmate for as long as he could remember, Sherlock couldn't do anything but respect John's decision to marry someone else.

Because that's what people do when they are in love, don't they? Respect their beloved's boundaries and let them go?

Sherlock had chosen to do the same. If John had made a decision, then so had he.

If Sherlock could do one thing, it was to use subtle symbolic hints to express his feelings for John. This was a safe zone. No one would ever know whether the symbolism was intentional.

John would be the last person to think in that direction.

The fact that Sherlock couldn't say no to John when he had asked Sherlock to be the best man, despite pining for him for years, said a lot about Sherlock's feelings for John, anyway. Anyone with an elementary level of observational skills would be able to see that.

Sherlock was doing everything he could to ensure the wedding day to go as smooth as possible.

If he had slipped up by using a very specific shade of purple for the outfit of the bridesmaids, thereby showing his hand, nobody could blame him for that.

»»——⍟——««»»——⍟——««»»——⍟——««　　

Prompt Purple by @notjustamumj

Thanks for the tag, @topsyturvy-turtely!

Tagging- @jawnn-watson , @peanitbear , etc.

[jackofacetrades]

Ok, I've finally read The Empty House and omg it's so cute??! All the little touches, Holmes intensity, WATSON FAINTING??! But I'm sorry, their reunion wasn't nearly enough feels I had to write this short missing scene, I couldn't help myself... So here's what Watson couldn't write because he was out of it:

Watson moved his head to look at the cabinet behind him. Holmes hurried to remove wig, fake nose and wiskers while straightening his back to his full height, ready to surprise Watson. It felt so good to see him again, to be with him again. He had miss him very much in these three years he spent in hiding. But now, everything was coming to an end and he could finish it all with Watson. He felt blessed. When his friend turned back, Holmes was standing smiling at him across his study table.

But it was apparently more than what Watson could take. After standing up with an utterly shocked expression, his eyes revulsed and he was promptly falling in on himself to Holmes' horror. He rushed to catch his friend before he could hit his head on the chair behind him and gently eased him to the floor, cupping his head. Holmes was mildly panicking and chastising himself for his unthoughtful prank. Why did he have to appear to him in such a dramatic maner? Of course Watson would be shocked! —Though, he didn't think he would be so much as to faint ... Stupid! He was so stupid!— He reached for the collar and promptly opened it one-handed, his hand shaking slightly. He then searched his pockets for his flask of brandy and, still cupping his friend's head, he gently poured some drops on the slightly parted lips. He didn't dare breath until Watson's lips moved slightly and tasted the beverage. He felt a wave of relief. Rationnally, he knew that Watson hadn't been in any danger but for the first time ever his mind had been overwhelmed by his emotions.

Before Watson came fully back to his senses, he put one arm under his knees, firmly gripped his shoulders and heaved him back on the chair he was previously sitted on. Holmes dusted his friend's suit a bit, brushed his hair back and took a shot out of his flask, to clear his mind and try to regain a bit of composure, before the fog in Watson's eyes was finally blinked away.

“My dear Watson,” his voice quivering a bit, “I owe you a thousand apologies. I had no idea that you would be so affected.”

[221b-carefulwhatyouwishfor]

It’s Sunday evening in 221B Baker Street. John sorts through the various bills that have gathered in a pile next to his chair and he frowns, then tosses them aside with a short sigh. Sherlock enters the sitting room, a tall glass of amber beer in each hand.

“What’s this?” John asks, a confused smile tugging at his lips as he takes the glass Sherlock offers him.

“It’s for you,” Sherlock answers simply before seating himself in the opposite chair. His jacket is off and his shirtsleeves are rolled up, a nod to the warmth of the day.

John takes a grateful sip of the beer, the glass cool on his fingertips. His shoulders relax and he leans more deeply into his chair, then stretches out his legs.

He flicks his gaze up to Sherlock, who is tasting the liquid delicately, as if he’s not quite sure he’ll like it. John smiles again, knowing Sherlock usually prefers a higher class of beverage.

“You looked worried,” Sherlock finally says, nodding at the stack of envelopes. “Thought you could use a drink.”

John rubs his forehead, embarrassed about his monetary predicament. “Er, yeah, well…”

Before he goes on, Sherlock waves a dismissive hand. “I’ll lend you my card.”

“I can’t— thank you, but—”

Sherlock raises his hand, palm flat, halting John’s protests. “I insist.”

John knows it’s pointless to argue, so he looks away, mumbling a thank you. But his pride suddenly bubbles up, and he’s fighting a flash of anger. “Why? Why do you do always do this?” He grips the beer glass, feeling bitter. “I’m not a charity case.”

Sherlock’s expression remains placid. “I certainly don’t think that.”

“You don’t have to pity me, you know.”

Sherlock levels his gaze at him. “I don’t.”

John looks away. “I just need a job. Something steady. I can pay you back—”

Sherlock lets out a dramatic sigh. “Oh, do shut up, John.”

John stops, taken aback, and Sherlock continues to speak.

“I don’t care about the money. Take my card, take whatever you need. It doesn’t matter. I just need you.”

John stares, not sure he heard correctly.

“I need you on the cases,” Sherlock rushes to say. “Can’t have you working long hours at some boring job and missing all the fun. Who will embellish the details and record my feats of genius for the world?”

John keeps his eyes on the rug. “I don’t embellish that much.”

“And who else, with their simple questions and tenuous grasp of the obvious, could help illuminate the facts quite the way you do?”

John’s brows knit together, unsure if that was a compliment.

Sherlock waves his hand again. “No, no, no, I can’t permit you to waste your talents elsewhere when you are very much required here.”

John lifts his eyes to Sherlock’s, his anger slowly dissolving. “I promise I’ll pay you back.”

Sherlock holds his gaze, turning more serious. “You already have. Countless times.”

John swallows, emotions racing through him, sensing something unspoken. “You… really… need me?”

Sherlock hesitates, then smiles slightly. “More than you know.”

They fall silent, gazes locked until they both glance away. They sip their drinks, their feet gradually sliding closer, almost closing the gap between them.

[strangelockd]

Its finally here! My first ever Fan Fiction attempt. I got really emotional while writing this bc it may or may not be based on my own life(wink wink). It will be posted in parts but I really do hope you all enjoy it as much as I had while writing it. A big thank you to all the supporters on here for inspiring me to do this.

I know I spelt Stephens name wrong, Ill fix it later

Word Count: 3.9K

Warning: Mutual pining, Friends to lovers, Mention’s of oral sex (male receiving), Past traumas, slight talk of anxiety. Just mostly a fluff piece.

Summary: Your a nationwide tailor and you finally got your first big client whom is no other the the world famous Doctor Steven Strange himself. Can you keep your cool while taking his measurements? Because lets face it, he broke the internet with that Armani suit.

*******************************************************************

*******************************************************************

The streets of New York City were bustling with life. The roaring of the cars, the local pizza pappa calling out for customers, the smells and sounds all around you reminding you that your back home. Your first home. As much as you hated the crowds and noise sometimes, you’ve become acclimated to it. You took a deep breath and cold air filled your lungs; winter was right around the corner. Exhaling a cloud of fog, you made your way through the crowded streets dodging faceless strangers and made your way.

      “Shit, I’m going to be late” you exclaimed as you looked down at your phone. A photo of Steven Strange on your lock screen showing the current time. It wasn’t fancy, just a photo from the local newspaper. You always had a slight interest in the man, you couldn’t exactly put your finger on it somehow. A slight smile sneaking across your face, you shoved the phone back into your pocket and began picking up the pace making your way along the crowded streets.

     Your never late, let alone to an appointment. You prided yourself on punctuality and that dedication showed in your career. You loved your job of being a local tailor, it gave you the opportunity to meet a lot of new and exciting people, traveling the country was just the icing on the cake. But now that your clientele has grown, you are now getting your start with branching out to bigger clients. Bag in hand you finally approached the address 177 Bleecker Street the plaque read. Taking a minute to adjust yourself you pushed up your glasses and pulled down your skirt. Taking extra precaution to adjust your knee-high stockings and peter pan shaped collar underneath your sweatshirt attempting  to look as professional as possible. Tucking your hair behind your ears, you gave out a quick sigh trying to steady your breath while you knocked on the heavy blue doors paned with glass. The building was truly outstanding. How have you never noticed this place before?

 As the door creaked open your heart launched up to your throat. There he was, Doctor Steven Strange famous neurosurgeon and powerful Sorcerer Supreme. God he was more handsome in person you thought. You first noticed the annoying expression on his face, but couldn’t help but be distracted by his eyes. They were blue, like the sea after a storm.

      “Your late kid” He gruffed while leaning his body against the doorframe, arms crossed against his chest. You could feel your cheeks beginning to flush and shook your head slightly to help bring you back to reality. For Christ’s sake, this can’t be my client you thought to yourself. “Late? I’m right on time” You stammer in protest, feeling your mouth go dry.  “On time is late in the professional world.” He said with a baritone in his voice and a smirk on his lips. “Are you going to let me in or not? Someone at this address made an appointment for a suit fitting and I’m here to do just that” you shot back. 

     “Technically Wong made the appointment for me, he thought it would be good for me to freshen up my style for an upcoming event. But alright come on in.” He stated with slight annoyance in his tone. He turned on his heels and you followed him inside. As you stepped into the main hall of the Sanctum the first thing you noticed was the scent of sandalwood incense. Along with the many beautiful artifacts strewn around on display. It was even more gorgeous than you imagined. 

     Following Strange up the grand center staircase you noticed he was wearing his sorcerer robes. Royal blue rich in color along with a weaved belt above his hips. He also wore  mustard leather yellow gloves that went up his forearms. Complete with a thick lavish crimson cloak that practically reached the floor. It looked ancient yet beautiful, like it carried stories with time. 

     As you finally made your way to the top of the steps you both entered his room down the hall. He turned the knob and pushed slightly on the door and your jaw dropped upon seeing it. The room was huge and immaculate, books perfectly organized, a large four poster bed complete with gold and crimson comforter. You could sink into it and sleep for days you thought. 

The room also was adorned with dark high beamed ceilings completed with a cabinet that posed as a double mirror as well. No wonder he was irritated with your punctuality. He obviously loves tidiness and organization you thought. 

     As you made you way to the plush bed you sat your stuff down on top of it. Digging through the bag to try to get organized before the task at hand. You noticed your fingers began to shake out of nervousness. You were so distracted trying to find everything and to calm yourself down that you couldn’t help but jump slightly when Steven beckoned his crimson cloak away only for it to hover next to you. “Not used to relics huh?” He spoke with an air of teasing in his voice. “No, not really” you lightly chuckled as the cloak began to snuggle against you. “It seems that he likes you; you must have a kind heart. He is usually not as trusting with guest” He stated. “Well, I’m honored” you said as the crimson cloak did a cartwheel and clamped to your shoulders. 

      “Alright buddy that’s enough she’s got work to do” He said to the cloak. It caressed your cheek with its collar, and it released itself from you. You couldn’t help but feel the slight coldness of the room now making your forearms form goosebumps on your flesh under your thin sweater. “So, shall we begin then?” Steven stated to you across the room. He did a simple gesture with his hands and changed into something more practical, a pair of sweatpants that sat low on his waist. Exposing his chiseled chest complete with a muscular v towards his pubic line and nothing else. You couldn’t help but stare, he was the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, and he was even more stunning to finally see it in person. Glancing at his strong jawline your eyes made it to his forearms, muscular and strong; he would have no issue carrying you anywhere. Eyes making their way down to his abdomen it was like looking at a waterboard. You couldn’t help but imagine licking and tasting every muscular crevice until you made it to his soft supple lips. Savoring the delicate but salty texture of his flesh. You felt your center begin to wet'n causing you to involuntarily close your knees a bit more tightly.

     You shook your head to wake yourself from your fantasy. Steven of course noticed but opted to say nothing and just keep a smile on his lips. “Might as well” you said with slight breathlessness. You grabbed the tape measure from the bed and thumbed it between your fingers loosening up the flexible material. As you made your way towards him Steven stated, “It just makes sense to wear this instead of all the layers”. You couldn’t agree more you thought as your mind began to wander again.

     When you finally made it next to him you hitched your breath, heart racing and hands slightly shaking more nervously to the point where you’re sure he can see it. You always had a issue with shaky hands since your youth. It was a dead giveaway for your struggle with anxiety. But through time, you mastered holding it together. That is till today.

    Fuck he was perfect; he even smells divine. He smelled like expensive cologne, hints of bergamot and Amberwood leaving a sensually wooden scent that filled your lungs with thoughts of comfort and desire. You could eat him alive right now. He obviously takes great pride in his appearance. “It’s Dior by the way” he said like he was reading your mind. “It’s nice I love it, it smells delicious” you responded with a calm but slight steady tone. Taking the tape measure with your nervous fingers and stretching it out. 

     You began with the shoulder measurement, carefully taking your time to get the precise analysis possible. Feeling his chest rise and fall naturally with each breath you made your way to his biceps. You couldn’t help but notice how strong and hard they were. You didn’t want to release the tape measure at all, but you continued to move down. Slowly grazing your hands across his warm smooth flesh making your way to get his hip and pants length.  You dropped to your knees while wrapping the tape slowly yet gingerly around his waist and you began jotting down the measurements on your notepad next to you.

      He noticed you taking an extra-long time to get his pants length he couldn’t help but take the opportunity to stare at you admirably. Your soft features and bright beautiful eyes taking their sweet time examining his body like he was the statue of David.  He was enjoying every minute of it. No doubt that he was a tall drink of water, and you would climb him like a tree if you could. You grazed along his lower half and accidently brushed past his semi aroused shaft. No wonder the man is known for having an ego. The things you would do to this man, imagining yourself enveloping your mouth around his thick cock. 

        His head leaning back against the wall whispering dirty sweet nothings into the void, all while you are making him feel like a god. His strong yet nimble hands threading through your hair guiding him towards his pleasure. Lewd noises of both of you lost in the rapture that would easily echo across the sanctum. You felt your panties getting heavily damped with the sinful thoughts you have. Causing you to close your knees again tightly to fight the urge within.

      Being lost in your trance you did not even realize that while kneeling your phone fell out of your pocket. An alert came up showing the photo of him on your phone. He cocked his brow while looking down and taking it upon himself to grab the device off the mahogany wooden floor. With a flick of his wrist, he managed to unlock your phone and began tapping on the screen. Omg omg he’s seen the photo this is the worst! you thought to yourself. Feeling embarrassed upon Steven seeing the photo of him you quickly grabbed it from his hands feeling your ears and face get hot. “What are you doing?! You know that’s an invasion of privacy.” You stated while irritatingly tapping your oxford shoes on the floor with your arms crossed on your chest. “I just wanted to exchange phone numbers; you know in case I needed anything else from you.” He shot his piercing blue eyes in your direction causing your heart to race even more. “Alright, that makes sense” You agreed in return.

     “Big fan I’m guessing” he declared, his face glowing with flattery. “Yes, I am, have been since the snap. You’re a hero after all, sacrificing your life to save humanity is a very noble thing. I like noble men” you confessed.  

        Steven couldn’t help but blush at the factuality of your statement. This woman…she’s different. He trailed off in his thoughts,but he admired your honesty. It was a hard trait to find in most people now a days. While continuing your task he couldn’t help but close his eyes and let his mind wander to your lips, imagining him holding your face while claiming your mouth. Ever so timid at first, but eventually letting him take full control of your desires. God she’s so beautiful he thought to himself. Remembering the state of his scarred hands snapped him out of his mental reverie. How could she love a damaged man like me? My hands still shake, I can never give her the life or pleasure she deserves he thought to himself. Giving out a slight saddened sigh he looked down at you still on the floor.

     Continuing with your job you could feel his stare and you began to lift it up to meet his gaze. “Enjoying the view?” he said while looking down at you with slight cockiness. “Surprisingly I am Mr. Magic Man” you said as you felt the heat in your face rise. Magic Man?…Mm that’s sexy to hear I could get used to that he thought to himself. 

     Before you could gather yourself and comprehend what was happening you felt his slightly calloused scarred fingers grip your chin gentle yet firmly. Tilting your face up to meet his crystal blue gaze, his pupils slightly wide as he held your face in place. As he cupped your chin he slowly began to help you rise up, guiding you directly to face him. He wanted to look deep into your eyes, the windows to your souls’ desires.  You could feel your knees slightly begin to buckle what is happening you thought to yourself. Heart racing ninety miles an hour. Instinctively he grabbed the small of your back to support you from falling. 

     You never mingled with clients before, never has it ever crossed your mind, till now…But there was something undeniable that attracted you to each other. Both of you felt like you have known each other for centuries. Like two lost souls separated by the red string of fate. You both were like two moths that were led to a flame. A fire that would never be tamed by any forces upon this world or the next. 

        He leaned into you first, taking full control of the opportunity at hand. He took extra precaution to start with a slow but assuring pace. Taking time to savor the moment between each other, tasting each other. You were sweeter than milk and honey. There was a slight desperation in your moans as he nipped your lower lip and began to enter his soft tongue into your mouth gently claiming you. It’s been a long time since you’ve been with a guy. But this wasn’t a guy, this was a man. Feeling slightly embarrassed and like a third wheel, the cloak decided to swiftly float out the room and close the door behind him.

     Steven chuckled and smiled at his fellow companion having the decency not to watch, “I knew you couldn’t resist me” he said with a hand behind the back of your neck, rubbing his thumb while slightly pulling away mere inches from your face. “Since when does the great Sorcerer Supreme read minds?” you said while catching your breath. Without skipping a beat, he cupped both sides of your soft face between his shaky hands. “It was only too obvious; it doesn’t take that long to measure a waistline” he stated matter of factly with a haughty smirk on his face. 

     Damn that smirk you thought to yourself. You returned his kiss with an even more desperate one. As your kisses became deeper and more passionate, he turned your head back to give him the best possible leverage to your engorges zone. As he placed delicate kisses and bites on your neckline and earlobe you looked down at his hands. Scarred and damaged from a past car wreck that ruined his career. They were pale but with slim red lines going down each digit. They were captivating to you. Like artwork. The things he could do with them…

        Speaking breathlessly between his tender kisses you gently moaned “There beautiful by the way…” you said between heavy kisses. “What is?” He asked with a husky tone while trailing kisses down your collarbone. “Your hands” you confessed while giving out a slightly higher octave of a moan while he bit your neck slightly. Giving out a warm lick to help with the slight pleasurable pain. As you both continued kissing again you instinctively started to pull his sweatpants down. He swiftly paused and grabbed you tenderly with his hands. “We must stop this…” Steven cooed to you as his voice grew husky with hunger and longing. His shaking scarred hands gently cupping both sides of your petal soft face once more. Mere centimeters from your face, he was able to smell both of your arousal and sexual tension. You both could cut that with a knife.    

           But as he leaned into your tender swollen lips, warmth flooded through his head all the way down to his aching core. Causing his cock to twitch. This only fueling a new fire inside him. Something past lovers have never done before. He knew deep down inside his heart that this wildfire that began could never be exhumed. He wanted more, needed more…of you. 

He just wasn’t quite there yet. You were no doubt beautiful to him, like the sun. He wanted to worship you at your feet forever in pleasure to you. But with this dreaded wedding around the corner, he couldn’t help but feel distracted by his ex Christine. As much as he tried to purge thoughts of her. Her memory was like a knat in his ear. An itch he couldn’t scratch. Always replaying his past failure repeatedly, especially at night. No doubt that pain was an old friend to him. It absolutely drove him insane how he couldn’t learn to move on from her. To move on with his life. He deserves someone who could love him at his worst, even before his best. You deserved better than him he thought.

      You slowly laced your hands behind his head and pulled him in for a deep kiss. Showing him physically that you didn’t care about his past. You only cared about the man he is now right in front of you. As he tried to turn his head slightly away from you tears welling up in his eyes you pulled his forehead to touch yours, feeling the sadness and weight of his burdens you wanted to help him carry it no matter the cost. 

   “We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready.” You stated to him with an undeniable softness in your voice. He wrapped his strong arms around you pulling you into a tight locked hug. You could feel the warm tears sprinkling on your sweater causing your heart to break. “How can someone as perfect as you love a damaged man like me?” he whispered in your ear. You pulled back and pressed your hands on his warm chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat between your open palms.

Not even realizing that your fingers have stopped shaking, you moved them up to his chest to cup his face gently between your palms, gently brushing the tear stains from his cheeks. You looked directly into his blue eyes and said, “Love is patient, love is kind. I’m not going anywhere as long as you’ll have me Steven Strange…I’m with you till the end of the line”. All he could do was stare back at you; mouth slightly agape in shock. He chuckled to himself feeling embarrassed about the sudden emotions he was feeling and pulled you in for a slow and tender kiss. “You’re pretty amazing you know that” he exclaimed. His heart filling with joy. You stayed locked together in the embrace for what felt like a happy eternity. 

     Once you both felt calm again you pulled away from Steven feeling colder now without his touch. You turned to the king size bed to begin putting all your work supplies away. Closing the bag with a snap of the clasp you heard him behind you asking, “So what do I owe you for your services?” he said calmly while magicking his sorcerer robes back on. The door opened and cloak soon followed suit in returning to his broad shoulders. 

You would never get tired of watching him use magic. “Nothing yet, not until your Armani suit is here and we can tally up the price then.” Still feeling the raw swollen tenderness on both of your lips, you both made your way back down the staircase and towards the Sanctums front doors. As you both were walking down you noticed his hand never leaving the small of your back, it was almost as if he wanted to instinctively protect you and never let you go. Once you finally made it to what felt like way to soon you were at the front doors. Deep down you didn’t ever want to leave Steven or this place. Your heart pined. It felt like home, HE felt like home to you. 

       There was a certain foreign comfort you both felt in the presence of each other. The role models in your life were not exactly dependable in your lives and you both mastered the art of building up walls to protect yourselves from heartbreak. But you knew he wasn’t just some guardian who can chase the demons away at night. You weren’t some easy lay or a mere damsel in distress to him either. You both felt you can tell each other anything and everything. The foreign feeling of trust felt amazing. 

     As he slowly opened the heavy door,  you turned around to face him. Practically leaping excitedly into his strong arms. Fingers laced around his firm frame you pulled him in for one last kiss. Smelling his personal scent drove you mad and made your mouth water. Releasing yourself from him, his new felt steady hands on your hips he asked, “So can I message you tomorrow? Will that be okay with you?”  You smiled up at him with beaming eyes full of happiness. “Absolutely, I look forward to it magic man”. He blushed sheepishly and gave you a wink that made your cheeks turn red as well. He found it sexy to see you blush.  

      As you walked away waving at him, you disappeared into the bustling crowd. Taking a chance to steady his breath he glanced down and noticed at that moment that his hands weren’t shaking. There wasn’t even any magic being used this time to tame them he realized. He was slowly beginning to feel like a normal human again. It felt amazing. Feeling this pining in his chest he leaned against the doorframe and pulled out his phone. He just couldn’t wait. He opened the new message portion on his phone and began typing, “I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave” with a grin from ear to ear. He knew next time he saw you he was going to make the attempt to change in his old ways.

@bakerstreethound @sassenach-on-the-rocks  @cherryfinolahobbes @celerrie @sherlux @budugu @cemak @blxckdragonfly @seanbeansimp59 @geeky-politics-46 @sobeautifullyobsessed @doctorstrangeaskblog @withalittlehoney @marvel-writing @purplefeathersandblackleather

[earlgreytea68]

Advent Drabble 20 - Eggnog

For @mellowmanatee

“What is it?” Sherlock asked, sniffing the glass suspiciously.

“It’s eggnog,” Lestrade replied, amused. “Never had eggnog before?”

“When I was little,” John said, “I thought it was eggsnog.”

“And that you had it whilst snogging? Like mistletoe?”

“No, that it was made by eggs snogging.”

“How can eggs snog?” Sherlock demanded severely. “They don’t have mouths.”

“I was a kid, Sherlock.”

Sherlock scoffed, like even a child should have realized eggs don’t have mouths. He said, “What’s it made of?”

“You can’t tell the chemical composition just by taking a sip?” Lestrade asked sarcastically.

Sherlock took a sip. “Maybe.”