#they pulled a sherlock with that confession scene and i’m mad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alexwritesfiction · 3 years

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you really know how to make me cry (when you give me those ocean eyes)

AO3

johnlock | tw suicide mention, swearing | fluff and angst | a/n: ignore typos pls

the one where lestrade breaks down and tells sherlock about how wrecked john was after sherlock's fake death, and it leads to a very wholesome confrontation.

Prompt: Lestrade has a bit of a break down and starts telling Sherlock about John after the fall; "you weren't here Sherlock! you didn't see him! you weren't the one who got drunk phonecalls in the early hours and you didn't run to the cemetery to see him sitting by your grave with his gun in his mouth!"

---

Lestrade really did work hard. Well, lately he hadn’t had to. Sherlock had come back, after all. And for that exact reason, he’d called his dear friend for a breakfast. That was, if John could handle Sherlock being out of his sight for more than five minutes. Greg could swear he was clingier to Sherlock than to Mary.

And he couldn’t even blame him for it. The dumb fool had given all of them heart attacks when he pulled the big prank. Greg had hated himself for not being able to save Holmes.

As he waited, he looked down at his wrist to check the time on, ironically, the same watch Sherlock had once given him. Or rather, Molly had on Sherlock’s behalf.

“Hello, Graham,” an all-too-familiar voice spoke above him, and he looked up to see Sherlock already sat in front of him. He'd become good at that; sneaking around.

“Before you say anything, let me tell you, I will let you solve cases from now on, but I do need a good murder every now then. Maybe you'll need my help soon enough,” he smiled in that know-all way of him, placing his hand on top of another on the table.

Greg couldn’t help but show his wonder at how Sherlock had known exactly what was going to happen.

“How did you- never mind. I shouldn’t even ask,” he said. If his nervous tics were anything to go by, Sherlock probably had him all figured out.

“Well, now that that’s over, I need your help,” he said, quickly and Lestrade almost fell off his chair at hearing that from him.

“I- you- what?” he asked again, and he could genuinely not comprehend what Sherlock had just said.

“I'm going to, ah, prank John,” he smiled a little wider. “I need you to help me pull it off,” his eyes sparkled and as soon as the words “prank john” had left his mouth, Lestrade had hit his limit.

He was done. He was so done with his friend not understanding just how much he had really affected everyone around him. He knew Sherlock didn’t expect anyone to care if he was there or gone, but people did. Just like that, Lestrade burst.

“Prank? A prank?” he said and Sherlock was taken aback by the belittling way he'd said. Greg stood up, almost spilling his beloved coffee. For once, Sherlock did not know why he was so mad.

“How much more do you want to hurt him? Don’t you think you’ve done enough of that after the big fucking Moriarty prank?” His anger was rising and he willed for himself to calm down, but he couldn’t imagine being so dense after solving so many mysteries.

Sherlock remained seated, a frown pulled upon his cupid’s bow. Why would people be hurt? In his idea of a world without himself, all that would change was that John would marry Mary, Mr. Hudson wouldn’t be annoyed and Lestrade would have more work and Mycroft would be the same. Why would anything change?

“I don’t- Lestrade, it's just a prank. It's quite funny, I imagine,” he tried to get the situation under his control, under his sense. He wasn't used to not knowing what was going on.

Greg started to leave after a moment, grabbing his coffee and his coat and walking away. Sherlock’s voice calling him stopped him in his tracks, and just because he’d uttered his real name, called him Greg for the first time ever. That effectively shattered him and gave him courage to say what he was about to.

“You weren't here Sherlock! You didn't see him! You weren't the one who got drunk phone calls in the early hours and you didn't run to the cemetery to see him sitting by your grave with his gun in his mouth!" he yelled, speeding back to the damned detective still watching him.

His face turned ghostly pale, and he was speechless at the confession. John- his John- had tried to- God, he had tried to not exist anymore. Sherlock’s mind was completely blank and running the fastest it ever had simultaneously.

This time, it was Sherlock’s turn to abruptly stand up and sprint away in the freezing winds, leaving a very unstable Lestrade right at the table, reeling from what had just happened.

On his way back, all Sherlock could think of was a world without John. How could that even be possible? There would be no Sherlock, no Sherlock’s world. Because, as he had come to realize it in his days of living without him, John was quite literally his world.

He could not think of the time before Watson, he could not remember his lifestyle, one without seeing john right after waking up and right before sleeping, and sometimes only staring at him sleep so peacefully. 221B Baker Street came into view rather quickly than Sherlock expected it to, and his feet led him right up to his shared room, ignoring Mrs. Hudson’s calling him.

He found John sitting on a chair, particularly, Sherlock’s chair, wrapped up in Sherlock’s favourite billowy coat. And he looked like he had no worried in his life in that position.

Sherlock almost didn’t wake him, debated ruining his sleep for a mere question. But he needed answers, or he would drive himself crazy with all the scenarios in his head.

“John! Wake up!” he urged, and something in his voice didn’t feel right to a sleeping John because he was up and alarmed in five second flat.

He flicked his head around the room, finally settling his gaze on Sherlock, with his lips pressed into a thin line. John had never seen Sherlock like this, all red nosed and red cheeked and so human. And although one could say that Sherlock Holmes was the most human version of himself around john Watson, it still felt ethereal.

The sunlight fell on John’s face such that he looked like an angel to Sherlock, his anchor to reality. But he would not let himself imagine what it would be like to lose his anchor.

“Was what Lestrade said true?” he spoke carefully, closely inspecting John’s face. He saw John’s face contort in confusion, and shake his head.

“He said, he said he saw you. In the cemetery, with your- your gun, in your mouth,” he spoke so softly that John had to strain his ears to catch onto what he was saying.

And once he did, he was taken back, and it took a full moment for him to process that Sherlock knew. He did not get scared of this, he could not because him finding out seemed like such a small pain as compared to the night he was referring to.

He’d gone insane without Sherlock’s little quips and remarks and him being around all the time and his mere presence came back to bite at him. It was a particularly awful night. He’d fought with Mary, over Sherlock nonetheless, but it had been meaningless as soon as he found himself drunk at his grave. He’d called Lestrade because he needed anything that would make him feel like Sherlock was there. Like he existed.

“I thought you died, Sherlock,” he spoke slowly, Sherlock’s coat still around him. He didn’t dare take it off.

“John,” he uttered and then he was right there striding towards his freaking other half. He didn’t know what fuelled it but right then he had a burning need to hold john, to feel him close, for him to be his anchor through whatever whirlwind of emotions he was going through.

John hugged him back just tight, as hard as he could, because god if he hadn’t dreamed of this since the very first time they giggled together at a crime scene. He didn’t know if this chance would come again and he was not going to let it go now that it was here.

“I didn’t know that you cared,” Sherlock said then, and he was terrified of the wet feeling on his cheeks that completely broke john’s heart. John hastily wiped them away because absolutely could not stand the sight of Sherlock being so vulnerable.

Mary’s words came back to him: “You care about him, John, more than me or yourself, and enough that you’re willing to ruin yourself over him.” He realized how wrong she was that night. Sherlock was not the reason John was sad sad, it was his absence. As much as he had hated admitting it to himself, Sherlock was his anchor to reality, too.

The two men stood sharing a moment there, neither of them needing to say anything. But then john recalled Sherlock’s previous words, about not knowing that john cared about him. He wanted to tell him he cared about him, that he could not go a day without seeing him.

But that was exactly was Sherlock was scared of. So, he said the only thing that fit perfectly:

“Elementary, my dear Holmes.”

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dragon-kazansky · 5 years

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A rose in London - Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 18 - Just the beginning

It had been weeks since the Blackwood incident. John was moving out. All his things were being taken from the flat and loaded into the carriage outside. John had come with Mary to collect the last of his things. John wanted to also make sure Sherlock and yourself were alright.

After the events that day, you moved in with Sherlock. He had told you everything about what happened on the bridge that day and confessed everything about Irene. It made it very clear who his feelings turned to after meeting you. He tried to deny John's claims about him fancying you back then, but he knew you knew. There was no use pretending.

Your life with Sherlock was just beginning.

There was a knock on the door. John and Mary came in. You heard Mary gasp as you looked up. You were sitting on a chair by the window, with a book in your hands.

Sherlock was hanging from the ceiling, a noose around his neck. You almost forgot the foolish experiment he was doing.

"It's quite alright, he's not actually dead." You tried to soothe them. You had grown quite used to his experiments since moving in. "Suicide is not in his repertoire."

"He's far too fond of himself for that." John added. "He also wouldn't leave Y/N like that. She's also far too calm for such a situation."

You smiled awkwardly at them.

John took his cane and poked Sherlock harshly in the back. Sherlock woke up with a start. You closed your book and stood up out of the chair you had been using.

"We have guests, dear." You grinned at him, moving over and turning him around to face John and Mary.

"Oh. Good Afternoon." He spoke as if nothing weird was going on. "I was trying to deduce the manner in which Blackwood survived his execution. Clearing your good name, as it were. But it had a surprisingly soporific effect... and I was carried off in the arms of Morpheus like a caterpillar in a cocoon." He spoke softly.

"Good afternoon, dear." He said to you as he slowly swung in a circle and faced you again. You grinned up at him.

"Get on with it, Holmes." John told him.

You walked over to Mary and offered her your seat. She took it gratefully. John came over too.

"Cleverly concealed in the hangman's knot was a hook." Sherlock explained. "Oh, dear, my legs have fallen asleep. I should come down."

"John, shouldn't we help him down?" Mary asked.

"No, no, no. I hate to cut him off midstream." John smiled at her. "Carry on." He looked back at Sherlock.

Sherlock looked at you for help, but you gave a shrug, taking John's side.

"Traitor." He muttered softly at you. "Well, the executioner attached it to a harness... allowing the weight to be distributed around the waist... and the neck to remain intact." He gestured to his own neck. "My Lord, I can't feel my cheeks. Might we continue this at ground level?"

"How did you manage it, Holmes?" John asked, getting closer to the man.

"I managed it with braces, belts and a coat hook." He lifted his waistcoat to show his harness. Please, my tongue is going, I'll be of no use to you at all."

"Worse things could happen."

"John." Mary scolded lightly, smiling at him. You chuckled from beside her.

"Y/N is in no rush to help him either." John pointed out. Sherlock turned to you.

"I thought you loved me, it seems I was wrong."

"You're not wrong. John, cut him down." You couldn't contain your giggles. John picked up the chair below Sherlock and set it upright.

"Yet none of this explained Blackwood's lack of a pulse." John used his sword to cut the rope and Sherlock landed heavily on the ground.

"Right. Now, the medical mystery. We must restore your reputation, Watson. There is a toxin refined from the nectar of the rhododendron ponticum. It's quite infamous in the region of Turkey bordering the Black Sea... for it's ability to induce an appranetly mortal paralysis. Enough to mislead a medical mind even as well-trained as your own. It's known as-"

"What's wrong with Gladstone?" Mary asked, looking at the dog.

"-mad honey disease." Sherlock looked at the dog. "Oh, he's demonstrating the very effect I've just described. He doesn't mind."

Mary got up and knelt beside Gladstone.

"Mary, don't worry, he's seen far worse." John told her.

You walked over and sat beside Sherlock's feet, resting against his lap. Sherlock took to running a hand through your hair.

John took a look around the apartment.

"This feels more home like than it did before." John took note of the tidy desk on the opposite side of the room. There was an area over there that looked like a reading area. No doubt that was your doing.

"Y/N is did that. She likes having somewhere to read." Sherlock mused. "I rather like living with her."

"Oh, thank you. I like living with you too, Sherlock." You looked up at him. He chuckled.

"You two were made for each other." John grinned. "I regret not having you meet sooner."

"Yes. You should be ashamed of yourself." Sherlock glared at him softly. "All that time I could have spent in her company. What a waste."

You elbowed him in the leg, which startled him.

"Behave." You warned.

"Yes, dear."

"Mr. Holmes?" Clark's voice called from the hall. "Doctor. Miss Mary. Miss Y/N." He acknowledged you all. "Sir, Inspector Lestrade asks that you come with me right away."

"What is it this time, Clarky?" Sherlock asked.

"It's one of our sergeants, sir. He went missing the day you stopped Lord Blackwood. I'm afraid sewage workers found his body just this morning, sir. We believe the sergeant was our first man on the scene. Shot in the head."

"Was it a small calibre bullet?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes." Clark confirmed.

"Were there powder burns on his eyebrows?" He asked.

"Indeed, sir."

Sherlock stood up, causing to move and stand too.

"Point blank range?" John asked.

"Moriarty." Sherlock said. "Professor Moriarty."

"Oh, there's a good boy." Mary petted Gladstone as he got up finally. "Everything's going to be fine."

"Where is Blackwood's device now?" John asked, standing up.

"Secret service have it, sir. They've taken over the case."

"I'd wager there's a piece missing." Sherlock said, looking out the window.

"So Moriarty was after a piece from the machine... not the poison." John joined him in the window.

"There's nothing more elusive than an obvious fact. The wire-free invention was the game all along."

"And Adler was just the diversion." You said, coming up beside Sherlock.

"He knew I'd chase after her, leaving the machine accessible. A technology of that kind would be worth an untold fortune. Imagine being able to control any device simply by sending a command via radio waves. It's the future, Watson."

There was knocking at the door. You all turned around to see who it was.

"I've loaded the last of our boxes, sir." It was the man who was loading the carriage outside.

John and Sherlock looked at one another. This was it. Time for John to go.

"Well..."

You rubbed Sherlock's arm affectionately and smiled at John as he looked at you.

In the next instant Gladstone ran out of the room. He rushed right past Mary and out into the hall. He could probably hear the sounds of the street with the door being open downstairs.

"Gladstone." Mary called for him, but he didn't come back.

"Stop him before he gets to the front door." John said, turning away from the window. He hurried out after the dog.

"Clarky." Sherlock reached for his hat and put it on. "Case reopened."

Mary got up and hurried after John, you watched them all go. "We'll meet you at Scotland Yard, Clark." You told the officer. He nodded and hurried out.

Sherlock turned on his heel and faced you. He couldn't help but smile. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen was living with him. She was all his.

"You didn't show them your ring."

"They're not even married yet." You looked at him. "We can have our moment when they've had theirs."

Sherlock walked over to you, reaching for you and pulling you close to him. He loved holding you like this.

"I wanted to show off." He looked at your lips.

"You can do that anyway." You chuckled.

Sherlock pulled you into a kiss.

"We must get to work." He muttered, looking at you lovingly.

"Yes. We must."

Within seconds you parted and both hurrying to grab your coats and hats. You grabbed your notebook and pencil, putting them into your purse and waited for your wonderful detective to grab his things. He tucked his gun in his trousers and adjusted the hat on his head.

"Let's go, dear."

"Right behind you."

The end!

The sequel will be out in the New Year!

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#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes #robert downey jr #chapter 18 #to be continued #a rose in london

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years

Note

got any good domestic johnlock fic recs??

Hi Nonny!

YES!! I certainly do! I love domestic Johnlock! Done lots of lists in the past, so check out the additional lists, and I’ll update those lists with these latest ones I’ve sorted!

DOMESTIC JOHNLOCK Pt. 4

See also:

Platonics and Domestics

Platonics & Domestics Pt 2 / Hugs, Cuddles & Kisses Pt. 3 / Tooth-Rotting Fluff Pt. 4 / Love Confessions, Slow Burn & Dev. Rel. Pt. 2 / Established Relationship Pt. 3

Platonics / Bromance / Friendship Pt. 3

When Morning Comes by Youarethelightoftheworld (T, 423 w. || Christmas Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Lazy Mornings/Morning After, Fluff and Angst, Sleepy Cuddles, Domestic Fluff, Cuddling / Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort) – “Sherlock,” says John solemnly, “I’m not sure we can go anywhere today.”

Promises Kept by grannysknitting (K+, 844 w. || John POV, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship / Pre-Slash, Sherlock’s Violin, Worried Sherlock, John Whump, Post-TGG) – When they were in hospital, Sherlock made a promise to himself. Now he’s keeping it. Set after ’Polygamous Marriage’ but before ’Back in the Saddle’

Realisation by Susie.Donym (K+, 957 w. || Sally POV, Pre-Slash / Friendship, Humour) – It takes her a while but Sally finally makes a huge realisation.

Like Any Other Day by wearitcounts (T, 1,145 w. || Fluff, John’s Birthday, John Loves Sherlock, Sweet / Thoughtful Sherlock) – Just when John thought Sherlock couldn’t get any more strange…

Together is What we Have, Together Protects Us by Phantom of the Black Pearl (K+, 1,566 w. || Post-TRF, Friendship / Platonic or Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Sherlock, Worried Sherlock, Slice of Life) – After a case one evening in the flat Sherlock voices a concern that causes the pair to consider why they’ve chosen to stick together after all that’s happened.

Like Euphoria and Scotch by FinAmour (M, 1,856 w. || Five and One, Alchohol / Drinking, POV Second Person Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Imagination, Armchair Sex, Fluff, Happy Ending) – 5 different ways it all could have gone + the one way it actually works itself out.

One in Ten Thousand by Blind Author (K+, 1,856 w. || Post-TGG, Friendship / Pre-Slash, Discussions of Violence, Worried then Curious Sherlock, Scars/John’s Bullet Wound, Medical Anomolies) – John seems to have unusual mobility for a shoulder wound…

The Adventure of the Mysterious Appearance of Tissues by Gwen’s Blue Box (K+, 1,910 w. || Fluff, Humour, Sick John, Caring Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort) – In which there is a case, John has caught a cold and is not interested in investigating, Mrs Hudson is away and Sherlock does the shopping.

The Case of the Missing Blogger by nicknack22 (K, 2,147 w. || Fluff, Humour, Friendship, Worried / Anxious Sherlock) – Alternately titled, The Case of the Oblivious Consulting Detective. In which Sherlock comes out of his mind palace to discover John missing. 221B does not fair well as a result.

Risotto by Richefic (K+, 2,153 w. || Friendship, Angst, Misunderstandings, Apologies) – The first time that John cooks dinner for Sherlock is almost the last. Fortunately, Sherlock is really quite observant. Inspired by John’s reference in “The Great Game” to there being some leftover risotto in the fridge.

The Many Faces of Concern by sdrawkcabemdaer5 (K+, 2,473 w. || Friendship, Angsty Fluff, John Whump, Mildly Clueless Sherlock) – John is injured on a case, leading to some surprising reactions and discoveries about their friendship.

Bored Games by patster223 (K+, 2,769 w. || Cluedo / Board Games, Friendship, Humour) – Sherlock is bored and John decides that they should play Cluedo. In retrospect, it was a truly awful decision.

The Rational Machine by Solstice Zero (K, 2,924 w. || Hurt / Comfort, Malnourishment / Fainting, Doctor / Minder John) – Sherlock passes out. John muses on the reasons why. Containing an absorbing case, two bags of shopping, and a few apples.

On a Sunday Morning by SD_Ryan (G, 3,136 w. || Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Pining Sherlock) – Sherlock has a little problem. He can’t stop obsessing about John Watson. {{Note to Self: ‘Cheese Tease’}}

Wish I Was In Heaven Sitting Down by standbygo (M, 3,282 w. || Post-S4, Five Plus One, Missing Scenes, Parenthood, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Declarations of Love, Fluff, Food, John Whump) – Five times when Sherlock and John ate together, and one time they didn’t. A history of the boys, in food.

The Bee Charmer by dreadpiratewatson (M, 3,314 w. || Est. Rel., Captain / Soldier John, Idiots in Love, Domestics, John in the Army) – Greg goes to 221B to check up on Sherlock after a strange phone call pulls him away from an important case, and is stunned to find himself in front of a gun brandishing soldier with a sleeping Sherlock on his chest. John Watson is a doctor, a war hero, a husband, and the only one in the world who can soften Sherlock’s heart.

Bored Games by SparksMayFly (K, 3,492 w. || Humour, Friendship, Cluedo / Board Games, Big Brother Mycroft) – Sherlock asks if he can take Reverend Green in for interrogation. John explains that’s not how the game works.

Every Step of the Way by Shi_Toyu (G, 3,795 w. || Car Accidents, John Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash, Caretaker Sherlock) – When John is injured on a case, Sherlock can’t forgive himself. Everyone expects him to give up on his flatmate and get bored, but he’ll prove them all wrong by sticking with him…every step of the way.

Five Times John Cooked Something with Peas and One First Kiss by 221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (T, 3,915 w. || 5 and Ones, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Cooking / Food, Sick Sherlock, Music, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss) – After John cooks five dinners that slowly reveal their hunger for each other, Sherlock and John finally share a first kiss.

Jukebox by standbygo (T, 3,990 w. || Fluff, Singing/Music, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Hurt/Comfort, Humour, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss) – After the music halls of Sherlock’s mind palace get damaged by accident, John learns that Sherlock never forgets a song. Even the ones he’d rather forget. But the random singalong brings some unexpected benefits.

No Good Without You by textsandscones (T, 4,021 w. || Case Fic, Sherlock’s Violin, Dancing, Soppy Fluff) – A diverting new case surrounding musicians and stolen instruments captures Sherlock’s attention, the consequences of which lead both detective and doctor to see one another in a different light. Part 1 of Prompt Fills

Breakfast, acronyms and brotherhood by Rose de Sharon (K+, 4,074 w. || TBB Fic, Friendship/Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Protective John, Fluff) – Set after The Blind Banker: my take of Sherlock and John’s conversation over breakfast. S/J friendship, bromance, no slash.

The Care and Keeping of Your Mad Genius by Janieshi (T, 4,553 w. || Post-TGG, Friendship, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Light Humour/Teasing, Alternating POV, Cranky Sherlock) – If he hadn’t been so focused on holding the bastard still, John would have laughed aloud. This maniac really thought John was the pet in this dynamic?

Welcome Home, John by slashscribe (G, 5,504 w. || Post-S3, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Awkwardness, Stabbed Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Panic Attack (Sherlock), Self Esteem Issues, Love Confessions, First Kiss) – When John moves back to 221B, he thinks he’s the broken one, but after a while, it becomes clear that he might not be correct.

Of Razors, Pipes, Red Notebooks and Rugby Jerseys, Or: Sherlock Doesn’t Like His Doctors Clean Shaven by allonsys_girl (E, 7,313 w. || Est. Rel., PWP / Porn With Feelings, John’s Beard / Beard Kink, Roleplay, Love Declarations, Banter, Rimming, Anal, Domestic Fluff / Bliss, Idiots in Love, Emotional Lovemaking, Pet Names, Obsessive Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Bottomlock, Cranky Sherlock) – John grows a beard. Sherlock really likes it. Part 1 of Consulting Husbands

On Favors and Keeping Score by Ewebie (G, 7,622 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Sick Fic, Fluff, John Whump) – John woke up to the horribly unpleasant sound of his clock alarm. Which meant he’d slept through his phone’s alarm. And for a moment he glared blearily at the noisemaker before smacking at it with his palm. Ugh, he felt like rubbish. The back of his throat was burning with the irritation that heralded a proper dose, his nose was threatening to drip every few seconds, and he had the uncomfortable flush that normally suggested a fever. Nothing high, just uncomfortable. Nothing deadly, just irritating. Nothing worth calling in sick with, just a full day of discomfort in the face of other people’s discomfort. It was going to be a day where he was forced to bite his tongue from telling people off. “You’re not as sick as I am, so off you pop.” Part 7 of Tumblr Shorts

Speak My Language by Itsallfine (T, 7,479 w. || Thanksgiving, Love Languages, Love Confessions, First Kiss) – When Mrs. Hudson introduces John and Sherlock to the concept of the five love languages, Sherlock descends into a dark mood and John’s curiosity gets the better of him. What is Sherlock’s love language, and why does the whole concept set him so on edge? Part 1 of A Holiday Triptych

The Name Game by ItsClydeBitches221B (K, 8,958 w. || Humour, Family, Platonics / Friendship, Sort-of Parentlock, John/Mary, Mary is Nice, Five and Ones, Baby Watson, Mycroft Loves Baby Watson) – The names that baby girl Watson comes up with for her extended family. Or: how everyone—Watsons, Holmes, and others alike— just learned to give up and embrace their weirdness.

How To Give Your Boyfriend Who Doesn’t Know He’s Your Boyfriend the Best Valentine’s Day Ever byunicornpoe (T, 9,832 w. || Valentine’s Day, Fluff and Crack, Soft Sherlock, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock is pretty sure that John Watson is his boyfriend. He’s also pretty sure that John doesn’t know it. But with a little help from a magazine, some friends, three crepes, five dates, one awesome CD, and a stalker van, John is bound to realize just in time for Valentine’s Day.

A Is For Aftermath by ElvendorkInfinity (T, 10,567 w. || Injury / Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Pre-Slash/Bromance/Platonics, Hallucinations, Introspection, Insecure / Worried John, Big Brother Mycroft, Alternating POV, Anxious Sherlock, Self-Deprecating, Mildly Possessive Sherlock, 3G Moment) – John is still hallucinating, Sherlock cannot sleep, and Lestrade has a new case for them. But will life at 221B ever be able to return to normal? Epilogue to M is for Moriarty.

Shuteye Shenanigans by Ayakae (K+, 13,263 w. || Post-TRF, Friendship / Epic Bromance, John’s Nightmares, Angsty Fluff, Bed Sharing, Humour, Cuddles, Taking Care of Each Other, Domestics) – John Watson has never slept with Sherlock Holmes. Never ever ever. And never will, thank you very much. Well, there was that one time, but John didn’t count that. It was completely different, just like the second time it happened. And the third. And the fourth. Epic bromance, but it can be read as pre-slash if you wish.

Hope for Heroes by Richefic (K+, 16,887 w. || Post-TGG Fic, Introspection / Flashbacks, Friendship/Epic Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Worried/Anxious Sherlock, Sherlock Admires John, BAMF John, John Deduces, Fancy Party, John’s Self Esteem, Domestics) – In the final moments of “The Great Game” Holmes hopes he will have the chance to tell his flatmate that he was wrong. Heroes do exist after all and the one in front of him is called Dr John Watson.

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you’re living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

Chaperones by MissDavis (T, 34,114 w. || 11 Years Post-S4, Fake Relationship, Parentlock, Disney World, Bed / Room Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, First Kiss, Obsessive Sherlock, Insecure John) – Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. “You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie’s class and you won’t have to share a room with a stranger?” “Exactly.” Sherlock beamed at him. “Don’t worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us.”

The Book of Silence by SilentAuror (E, 60,056 w. || S4 Fix It / Post S4, Virgin Sherlock, Rosie / Parentlock, Domesticity, Fluff, Praise Kink, Sex Toys, First Person POV) – As spring blooms in London, John and Sherlock begin to take new cases and cautiously negotiate this new phase of life with John living at Baker Street again. Despite how well it’s all going, John struggles to forgive himself for the way he treated Sherlock following Mary’s death as well as trying to figure out how to finally put his long-time feelings for Sherlock into words. Part 1 of The Book of Silence/Rosa Felicia

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #domestic johnlock #my fic recs #Anonymous #fic rec sunday #long post

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thebeethathums · 6 years

Text

Observers - 41

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Warnings: None

You let Sherlock take the envelope as John pulled you into his arms comfortingly, feeling yourself beginning to go numb from everything that had happened while Sherlock’s eyes scanned the letter. Lestrade burst through the door and the consulting detective waved a hand at him before he could say anything, “Other room. Get him out of my sight before he ‘falls’ again.” The man didn’t question it, going to remove your attacker with a sigh, and Sherlock pursed his lips at the note. He couldn’t make any sense of it, it seemed to just be a regular letter with the occasional drawing, but he knew there had to be something to it, turning to offer it to you, “(F/n)… What do you see?” You took it from him, quickly reading it over before softly breathing, “It’s a confession…

Pulling away from John’s arms, you continued in a hoarse yet firm voice, “If you pair the second-to-last sentence before each break to the drawing below it, the combination creates a new idea- it was a game a few of us used to play when there was nothing else to do and we wanted to challenge each other. ‘It’s been killing me that we haven’t seen each other in so long, it’s positively criminal!’ is paired with the three people below drinking tea as they discuss something- art history by the spine of the book one is holding. It means he killed the experts because they did something criminal… from the next few pairs they were probably the ones that falsely authenticated his fake.” You paused to look at the next page of the note, tilting your head as you deciphered the next bit with a frown, “He owed a favor to someone powerful and they forced him to make the fake,” your voice dropped to a barely above a raspy whisper as you continued, “And then the guilt drove him mad. That explains the paintings in the other room…” You got to the last set of sentences and the accompanying drawing, tracing your fingers over it before turning to go into the other room again. You pushed past Anderson and Donavan who were surveying the scene as Lestrade and a couple others lugged the unconscious man out, “This last one… ‘Do you remember how we used to lie on the roof and look up at the stars?’ with the drawing of a window…” You stared at the drawing for a minute as Anderson sarcastically snickered behind you, “Figures she’d be crazy like her brother and a freak like Sherlock. The world sooo needed a combination of the two.” “Yeah. You really dodged a bullet there,” Donavan hurled a little bitterly as the pair smirked at each other. You turned to glare at them, fully intending to tell them off, but Sherlock simply slammed the door in their faces before turning back to you and giving a little nod for you to continue. You silently asked if you could punch them later and he gave a slight smirk but shook his head, John watching the little interaction with narrowed eyes as he worked his jaw. “A window…This window.” You pointed to it and then shoved the note into John’s hands as you turned to grab a toppled stepladder. Sherlock had come to the same conclusion and was already holding it out to you and John stopped you as you set it next to the window, “Squeak… are you sure you want to be climbing that? You’ve just had a shock to your system, your balance-“ You shook your head, “I’ll be ok, Johnny,” and stepped onto it to move to the top, the boys below holding their breath as you wobbled slightly before reaching your hands up towards the ceiling only to find you were too short. You felt a hand on your hip and twisted to find Sherlock looking up at you, stretching his arms out to you as he offered, “I’m taller.” “There you go stating the obvious again,” you teased, flashing him a smile as you raised an eyebrow, and his lips twitched upwards in an almost undetectable smirk. John was not at all happy about this… this… flirting. Is that was it was? He didn’t think Sherlock capable of flirting but you certainly were… He had to stop thinking about it as his head started to spin again. Accepting his offer to help you down, you bent to wrap your arms around Sherlock’s neck and he tugged you tightly to his chest as he pulled you away from the ladder before gently setting you on the ground below. As soon as your feet hit the ground, John pried the two of you apart, glaring daggers at Sherlock as he tucked you behind him. Shooting the consulting detective an apologetic glance as he stepped up the ladder, you mumbled, “Thank you, Sherlock.” You and John watched as Sherlock’s hand felt the ceiling until he found a loose panel, pushing it up and then pulling it down to reveal a thick book attached to the back of it. He hopped down and removed it from the panel, running his hands over it curiously before flipping it open. You stepped forward to make sure he held it in both hands as you explained, “Careful, Timmy and I share the habit of tucking things in our sketchbooks and if you drop something in this mess, we’ll never find it.” He nodded in acknowledgment and turned his attention back to the sketchbook, finding that it was similar to yours and yet very different- there were sketches of an array of different things but more notes, almost like an illustrated journal, and every few pages there was some sort of loose paper tucked away. The first hint that something was wrong was a page that simply read ‘Was it worth it?’ with a slip that said I. O. U. Next, he came to some notes on the Monet and his process of creating it with a sketch of how to determine that it was a fake. Tucked in between the next pages were pictures of both paintings and an illustration of how they made the switch.

After that, it didn’t take him long to get to pages where the text turned crazed and shortly after that some very detailed sketches of the art experts both before and after they were murdered. Those segued into page after page of bloody paint-covered hands, rather like Lady Macbeth trying to wash the imaginary blood from her hands, the guilt slowly consuming him. The last page was just text that read, ‘I’m being hunted for what I’ve done. Hopefully, I’ve left enough for someone to figure it out. I’m so sorry. I should have never done business with Moriarty.’ Sherlock snapped it shut as John got a worried look on his face and you tilted your head, “Who’s Moriarty?” They both looked at you with frowns before exchanging a glance and then John offered, “That’s something we can talk about later, Squeak.” You felt like a child being kept in the dark by overbearing parents but didn’t push it and obediently trailed along behind them as they went to look for Lestrade, finding him talking with one of his forensics team. The first thing he noticed was your bruises, leaning in to look at them as he waved over a paramedic, “Christ! What the hell happened in there?”

Offering him a weak grin, you simply supplied, “A lot,” and John grumbled, “That’s an understatement.” They reluctantly let you go with a paramedic to take pictures for evidence and give a statement while they wrapped things up with Lestrade, handing over the sketchbook and note before coming to find you. The cab ride home was the quietest ever and the air was tense as John shot a steady death glare at Sherlock, Sherlock studied you with concern, and you ignored them both to look pensively out the window. They were both fretting over you and you knew it, you’d just been strangled and lost an old friend- how could they not worry- but you were too numb to think about them or any of it. It felt like you could sleep for a decade. Knowing you had to do something to keep them from tearing each other apart when you got back, you turned to them for a moment to quietly plead, “Can we please just get some rest and discuss everything in the morning? It’s been a long day.” Sherlock nodded and John took your hand up in his, giving you a sympathetic smile, “Of course, Squeak.” You sighed and looked back out the window- tomorrow was going to be a very long day.

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v-thinks-on · 4 years

Text

The Final Problem

Part 7 of The Man Who Sold the World

First | Previous

“If she fancies herself Moriarty, she may be inclined to share his fate,” Holmes remarked without preamble.

Watson glanced up from the book he was reading. It took a moment for him to register what Holmes had said and another to realize what Holmes was suggesting. As the gears finally slid into place he said, “No.” Just in case Holmes had not heard it the first time, he repeated, “No. I never went back there and we’re not doing it now.”

When Holmes replied, he spoke cautiously, “I confess I wasn’t thinking about your feelings on the matter, and for my thoughtlessness I sincerely apologize. However, I fear it may be the only way to put an end to these crimes once and for all, or at least the best that I can think of. We can’t just sit by and wait as more people are killed until she chances to make some fatal mistake. You know as well as I that we have no further leads; Barker has said all he knows, and Ivy Douglas remains missing. And it’s nearly a sure bet. She has even given the name Moriarty; I cannot believe she expects it to end any other way.”

Watson interrupted, unable to contain himself any longer, “It’s too much of a risk.”

“I survived once, didn’t I?” Holmes attempted with a crooked smile. “If I could face Moriarty and come out on top, surely we can best this imitator.”

Watson shook his head. “I’m sorry Holmes, I can’t let you do it again. If anyone goes, it will be me alone.”

“No!” Holmes even seemed to surprise himself with the outburst. His expression softened. “It seems you’re not the only one who has been a little lonely these past hundred years. I can promise I won’t take a single step without you beside me.”

Watson hesitated, but at last he said, “No. There has to be another way.”

“Perhaps,” Holmes admitted. “You’re right that were our places reversed, it’s not a risk I’d care to take.”

Several days passed without a case or even a client knocking on their door.

“You’re certain it would work?” Watson asked, breaking the contemplative silence.

It was Holmes’s turn to glance up from the day’s paper, but it did not take long for him to gather his thoughts. “You have seen how closely she has kept to your accounts of my cases-”

“But not close enough to get caught,” Watson reminded him. “Somehow, her allies manage to disappear in time.”

“That’s why the risk is a necessary one. We already have enough evidence against her. With her taste for the dramatic, she couldn’t possibly resist the opportunity to bring us down once and for all in a final confrontation between the great detective, Sherlock Holmes, and the criminal mastermind, Professor Moriarty.” Holmes’s eyes shone with the thrill of the chase and Watson felt his heart begin to race in anticipation.

“But it isn’t the same,” Watson said, dragging them both back down to Earth.

Holmes stared at him for a moment before he finally relented, “No, you’re right, it isn’t.”

“We can’t repeat the past and I have no desire to.” Watson could not quite keep the edge of emotion out of his voice. “Even if you were to face Moriarty again, we don’t know if you would be so fortunate, and this isn’t Moriarty that we’re facing. We’re not the only ones with the benefit of hindsight, and we don’t know what she’ll do with it.”

“Now, now,” Holmes began with condescending dismay, but stopped himself short. “I mean to say that we do have some inkling of how she will behave - we have not gleaned nothing from all of the crimes she has orchestrated. She prefers to remain as close to the crime she is imitating as possible, even down to the language, as you have said, and only allows her subordinates to escape when the culprit could have done so. In the latest instance, she even allowed the crime to develop naturally when it would have been easier and more certain to murder her target and bring the body to the scene. With all that, I have little doubt that she will follow us to Reichenbach and bring a single sniper - Mrs. Ivy Douglas, if I’m not mistaken - who will not act unless absolutely necessary.”

“But say we do run to the continent and mirror our old steps,” Watson insisted, “it’ll be an obvious trap.”

“All it will tell her is that we are prepared for a confrontation, which we are. Her chance is as good as ours, and we all know it.”

Watson’s eyes narrowed in distaste. “I don’t like it. It is a good opportunity, but not with those odds. We’ll need backup and plenty of it.”

“Now, that will certainly make her suspicious,” Holmes protested.

“Do you believe we could truly make an arrest on that narrow precipice? Any struggle is more likely than not to throw us all into the spray. Just because it didn’t happen once doesn’t mean it will go your way again. And the officials are capable of subtlety from time to time.”

Holmes considered it. At last he answered a tad reluctantly, “Very well.”

“Then I will call Inspector Houghton,” Watson said, not entirely sure about it himself, but still, he stood and picked up the phone.

When every detail had been planned and all the pieces were in place, at last Holmes and Watson set their plan in motion.

The doctor walked up to the front desk of a quiet hotel. “Reservation for Holmes.”

The man behind the desk clicked around on his computer for a moment and gave him some papers to sign before finally handing over an electronic key that looked more like an ID or credit card. Watson thanked him and he and Holmes made their way up to their room. It was far from the nicest hotel in London, but it mattered little; they wouldn’t be there for very long.

It took a few tries, but between the two of them they finally got the door open. They stepped inside and immediately got to work.

Holmes opened his suitcase on the bed and handed Watson a bundle of clothes. “You might as well look the part,” he said with a wry smile.

Watson accepted them with a breath that could have passed for a sigh and set about unbuttoning his collar. “We’re actually going through with this” - it was almost a question, asking that it not be so.

“We’ve seen to every precaution. We will only fail if our Moriarty does not take the bait, and there is no doubt about that.”

Watson frowned. He wished he had Holmes’s confidence, but everything had been taken from him once, he could not bear to have it happen again. He was sorely tempted to call the whole mad thing off, or to run to the continent alone, leaving Holmes safely behind in London. But either would have been selfish. They had a plan, the best he could do was stick to it.

He took a long, steadying breath and tried to focus on one step at a time. Methodically, he changed out of his suit, into an even more antiquated priest’s frock. It didn’t quite fit right, but he presumed that was part of the disguise.

Once Watson was dressed, Holmes stepped back to admire his handiwork. “I’ve never seen a more pious gentleman. You would hardly look out of place at the Vatican. Now, just a few finishing touches.”

He seated Watson on the edge of the bed and took out his make-up case, full of powders and brushes. Watson craned over to get a better look.

“You must stay still,” Holmes admonished, but it didn’t hold any heat.

Watson reluctantly faced forward. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Holmes take out a broad brush.

He drew it across Watson’s cheek with surprising gentleness, the bristles tickled against his skin. Watson let his eyes fall shut as Holmes gradually painted lines onto his face. His chest was tight with nerves about the upcoming chase, but there was something soothing about the soft, repetitive caress, each motion no doubt purposeful and carefully planned. Holmes knew what he was doing and it was the least Watson could do to try and keep his nerves in check.

His makeup done, Holmes carefully pulled back Watson’s hair and slid a wig over it. His long, nimble fingers worked their way around Watson’s head, rustling through his hair as they adjusted the band here and there.

At last Holmes sat back and declared, “You look like a new man.”

Watson’s eyes blinked open in the suddenly bright electric light. It took a moment for him to register the face in the mirror. An old man, almost as old as Watson truly was, with deep wrinkles and sun-darkened skin, peered back at him.

“Why, I can hardly recognize myself,” he exclaimed, and as he spoke the face before him almost seemed to transform as familiar features made themselves known.

“Carry yourself a little stiffer,” Holmes suggested. “Do not forget your venerable years.”

Watson nodded, trying to make the gesture as halting as he could.

“Better,” Holmes said, though Watson could tell he still had a long way to go.

Then they both hesitated.

Their easy banter gave way to an awkward, uncomfortable silence, revealing the tension that had been lurking beneath the surface since before they left Baker Street.

“I best be going,” Holmes said at last, and got to his feet.

Watson followed suit. “Be careful.”

“And you. But I doubt Miss Moriarty knows our game yet. No, the chase will not truly begin until we alight on the continent. I wonder how long it will take for her to realize…” Holmes trailed off in thought, but he quickly found himself again - “No matter, she will follow, and she won’t risk it until Reichenbach.”

Watson tensed at the word.

“You remember your route?” Watson asked at last, more for something to say than for the answer.

“I am not so old as to be forgetting things.”

Watson gave him a look.

“Do not fear, my dear Watson, this business will all be over soon enough.”

“Don’t say that,” Watson snapped. He took in a deep, steadying breath and slowly let it out. “I’m sorry, Holmes,” he said, his voice still a little shaky. His hands were quivering. “I know it’s not the same, but still I find myself dreading the end.” His voice fell as he spoke.

Holmes reached out and clasped Watson by the shoulder. “I’m here and I will not leave you again,” Holmes said, his voice firm. “We have done everything in both our considerable power to ensure that we come out alive, so that is what will occur. There is hardly a chance of failure.”

Watson nodded and attempted a smile of his own.

Holmes was not entirely satisfied, but he withdrew his hand and bade Watson farewell, “I will see you at Victoria Station.”

“Yes.”

With that, Sherlock Holmes turned, stepped out the door, and made his way down the hall as though he had not a care in the world.

Watson waited maybe fifteen minutes before his nerves got the best of him. He straightened his frock and made for the door like a man on a mission. Only as he was about to swing it open and stride out into the hall did he remember to bow his back and tried as best he could to hobble out. He had little patience for the slow, halting gait of the old priest he was trying to impersonate, but somehow he made it down the stairs and out the door, into the bright morning.

He imagined Holmes racing across the city, darting from cab to cab, as he hailed his own and set off straight for the station. Holmes was thankfully easy to pick out of the crowd on the platform, tall and lean, making no effort to conceal himself. For all of Watson’s years of imitation, there was something strange about playing Holmes’s role so purposefully, especially with his old friend right there in front of them. And Watson had never taken up Holmes’s penchant for disguises.

Still, Watson felt a little more confident in his shuffle as he made his way over to where Holmes was standing. A young officer stationed by the turnstyle offered to help Watson with his bag and he tried to direct her in a muffled voice. He only belatedly remembered that his English was supposed to be limited besides, but at least that way he had an excuse to speak as little as possible.

He thanked her in what little Italian he knew and settled in to wait for the train. He tried to catch Holmes’s eye, but Holmes’s gaze seemed to slide right over him as he scanned the crowd, almost managing to look nervous as he waited for someone to meet him.

It wasn’t long before the train arrived and he asked for Holmes’s help with his luggage as clumsily as he could. Holmes distractedly obliged.

When Watson tried to take the seat next to him, Holmes protested in a voice that wasn’t quite his own, “I’m sorry, you must understand, I’m waiting for my friend.”

“I- I don’t understand,” Watson attempted.

“I’m saving this seat for my friend,” Holmes insisted, seemingly blind to Watson’s struggle.

He was relieved when the doors slid shut and Holmes looked away to scan the car once more, giving him the opportunity to remark with a little well-deserved impatience, “My dear Holmes, you have not even condescended to say good morning.”

Holmes jumped a little and exclaimed, “Good heavens! How you startled me!”

“Not too badly, I hope,” Watson said without much sympathy.

“No,” Holmes said with a chuckle, keeping his voice low. “My apologies, Watson, but an actor, you are not.”

Watson did not dignify him with an answer. Instead he remarked, “I wonder if Moriarty herself will make an appearance.”

“I doubt she’s aware of our plans just yet, but I expect it will not take long.”

Watson nodded. “She’s been keeping a close eye on us.” He recognized one woman in particular sitting on the other side of the train, whom he had often seen near Baker Street, often lingering in view of their door.

It was a short ride to Kings Cross, but they arrived barely in time for the next train for Paris. Fortunately, Holmes got them quickly through security and they made it onto the train without incident. Watson fell into his seat, grateful for the chance to breathe.

They weren’t on board for long. They got off at Ashford, abandoning their empty luggage on the train. It wasn’t quite Canterbury, but after much debate they had decided against the half-hour detour. So, from Ashford, they caught a series of trains along the coast. The ride was a largely peaceful one. They alternated between easy conversation and companionable silence. But, when silence did fall, Watson found it difficult not to ruminate upon their dangerous errand. The woman had followed them from the underground, but thus far nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

They stopped for a late lunch in Lewes, and then went on to Newhaven to wait for the evening ferry. They brought dinner with them, and arrived in Dieppe, France close on midnight. There was no longer a night train to Brussels, so they stayed overnight in Dieppe and continued on to Brussels in the morning.

Miss Moriarty had missed her chance in London, so instead it was in Brussels that they found themselves dogged at every corner. First a van barely missed them as they crossed an avenue, then a brick crashed to the sidewalk beside them, and finally they were accosted by a rough looking man with a club who was thankfully scared off by the police before he bloodied Holmes’s knuckles. That night the hotel was evacuated on account of a fire that did more damage causing a nuisance than destroying anything. Of course, none of the perpetrators were caught.

Otherwise they spent a leisurely two days in Brussels before they went on to Strasbourg, and the day after that to Geneva. From there, they went from town to town, hiking where they could, and taking busses where they could not. It was as beautiful and foreboding as Watson remembered, with rocky peaks towering above and sloping valleys below. He did not let Holmes out of his sight. To his relief Holmes seemed to accept it and did not try to venture far.

The last assault came, as they expected, at the Gemmi pass, where a large rock fell from the peaks above, past where they had just been standing moments before, and down into the lake below with a tremendous splash. They never saw the perpetrator. Thankfully no one was hurt.

Finally, they stopped in Meiringen. They stayed in one of many hotels that had popped up in the area since they had been there last.

That night, both of them were reluctant to go to sleep. Neither had much to say, or rather neither was quite ready to put their churning thoughts to words, instead they sat in silence, too keyed up to go to bed. Holmes sat doubled over, his keen eyes fixed on the wall ahead as though he could read volumes in the wallpaper, or perhaps see straight through the wall. Watson was tired, but his racing heart had other plans. Not for the first time on their harrowing journey, he longed for a smoke.

Finally, Watson got up the courage to speak, “Holmes, please hear me out. Only one of us is needed to bait Miss Moriarty into our trap, and the case was mine from the start. Stay in the hotel tomorrow, let me go alone to the fall.”

Holmes snapped to attention. He answered a little too lightly, “We wouldn’t want to raise Miss Moriarty’s suspicions. She should be expecting two of us, after all. She may hesitate if she finds only one.”

“Then return with the messenger boy. You know she’ll send one.”

“I’m sorry, Watson, but you won’t be getting rid of me that easily. I know it’s selfish of me, but I want to see this through to the end, and I cannot bring myself to let you go alone. I let you follow the messenger the first time because I couldn’t bear to risk you at all.”

“And what if you die” - Watson could no longer hold back.

“And what about you?” Holmes met Watson’s eyes, his gaze steady, but it betrayed some of his heart. “Perhaps I’ve become too confident in my own immortality, but we’ve planned it well and besides, I know you wouldn’t allow any danger to come to me.” He hesitated. “I’m afraid you are in a graver danger than I.”

The next morning, both of them left the hotel early to hike to the falls. Watson faltered as the sight of the familiar treacherous peaks, but Holmes took his hand and helped him up the path. They walked in silence, neither quite ready for what was to come. All too soon, they came upon the fearsome fall, its roar louder than it was in any of Watson’s nightmares.

There, they waited. Watson wished he could have brought his revolver, but it would not go on the train. Miss Moriarty likely lacked the same scruples.

It was not long before the messenger boy reached them, asking for an English doctor to treat a dying Englishwoman at the hotel. Watson glanced at Holmes, hoping he would take the out that was offered, but he knew well what Holmes’s response would be. So, the boy returned down the path alone.

Soon after he disappeared out of sight, Watson spotted a woman coming around the bend. He shouted over the fall and Holmes leaped to his feet, ready for a fight. As she drew nearer, Watson easily recognized her features; this was the very same woman who had made a mockery of his late wife. He was not surprised, but the sight of her sent a jolt of anger through him.

He clenched his fists and yelled as soon as she was close enough to hear him, “Why? Why would you do such a thing?”

She grinned and seemed to laugh - he could not hear her over the roar of the fall.

“Who are you?” Watson demanded.

“Jamie Moriarty,” she answered proudly, striding toward them and the fearsome falls as though she had not a fear in the world, “the great granddaughter of Professor James Moriarty, here to finish the work he started.”

Even standing on the precipice, the roar of the falls echoing in their ears, still Holmes argued, “Professor Moriarty had no children.”

“So the public was led to believe, but his descendants have not forgotten him. I have reclaimed my family name and will bring it back to the notoriety it so deserves!”

If she was going to say more, they did not hear it, for at her triumphant conclusion they heard a shot go off and a plume of smoke burst out of a rock on the other side of the falls. They hardly had a chance to respond as a squad of officers came running up the trail and surrounded Miss Moriarty. Without her sniper, she was thoroughly out gunned and quickly subdued.

Holmes and Watson followed them all down the trail. For how smoothly it had gone, Watson was still a little weak with relief, while Holmes seemed to be bursting with all the energy he had not needed to expend.

He laughed and declared, clapping Watson on the back, “Well done, my dear fellow. I suppose I owe you an apology for underestimating your advice. It all went off charmingly. I even find myself wishing there had been a bit more of a scuffle.”

Watson gave Holmes a look.

“But it is all for the best,” Holmes hastily tacked on.

“Yes,” Watson answered at last, unable to keep a smile from stretching across his face, “It did go well, didn’t it? I’m sorry I wasted so much time worrying about it.”

“It had its worrying points,” Holmes acquiesced. “If not for all your worries, it may not have gone nearly so well.”

“You’re the one who suggested where to stake out to catch the sniper?” one of the officers walking near them spoke up.

Holmes waved it off. “I happen to be very familiar with the area.”

“Well, those were brilliant hiding spots, I don’t know how you found them, but I could’ve looked all day and wouldn’t have seen a thing. It all looks like sheer rock, who would’ve thought you could climb it.”

“Ava Smith, you are charged with the murder of Samuel Easton, John Rowe, Nelson Duvall, Thomas Johnson, and William Strout. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence,” Mrs. Houghton recited. “Do you understand?”

Miss Smith merely nodded. She sat in imperious silence on the opposite side of the interrogation table, as though daring them to question her.

The doctor could only repeat his question from the falls, “Why? Why attempt to reenact the past like this?”

To his surprise, she smiled. “Why do you do it? There’s only one reason, isn’t there?”

“What are you talking about?” the doctor demanded.

“Who would want to be Miss Smith or Jonathan Holmes, or even Doctor Watson, when you could be Sherlock Holmes or Professor Moriarty? Who doesn’t want the starring role?”

“I try to help people,” he protested.

She waved off the suggestion. “Of course, anyone would want to be the great detective, but you can’t have Sherlock Holmes without Professor Moriarty, and anyway my talents are better suited to the latter than the former,” she concluded with a dismissive shrug.

“That’s a poor way to honor Sherlock Holmes.”

“What does he care, at the bottom of Reichenbach Fall?”

Watson flinched. Holmes rested a reassuring hand on Watson’s elbow.

“No,” Watson said at last, “You’re right, Sherlock Holmes and Professor Moriarty both make a poor excuse for one’s actions.” He gave her a pointed look.

“I’ve been wondering,” she remarked, ignoring his comment all together, “Why you call yourself Jonathan Holmes while your friend here goes by the name Sherlock and calls you Watson.”

Watson struggled to find an answer.

Thankfully, Holmes replied easily enough, “That my name is Sherlock Holmes is little more than a coincidence. You could call it providence, if you like, that someone with such a name would take an interest in detection, or you could speculate that I was inspired by my namesake. Either way, it is not so unlikely that, finding myself the friend of a man named John, I might call him Watson.”

She turned on Watson, unconvinced. “And that your name is also Holmes is likewise a coincidence?”

Watson hesitated. “I thought it fitting.”

“Isn’t it, though? Better than John Smith, at the very least.”

“Is that it? All of this just for a name that you have no claim to?” Watson demanded.

She sat a little straighter in indignation. “I think I’ve lived up to it well enough.”

“Hardly,” Holmes put in. “Professor Moriarty’s organization was rather more than a band of actors and con artists.”

“This is only the beginning, an advertisement if you will for my and Sabrina’s business, but I suppose she hasn’t told you a word.”

“What kind of a business is that?” Watson asked.

“It’s about time I saw a lawyer, I do have the right to one, don’t I?”

Mrs. Houghton nodded and motioned for the guards to come in and take Miss Smith back to her cell. Once she was gone Mrs. Houghton concluded, “I can’t say much for her motivation, but otherwise I’d say the case is closed. Between your testimony and all of the material evidence, I would be surprised if she didn’t plead guilty.”

“Thank you for all of your assistance,” Watson said.

“Always happy to help.” Mrs. Houghton shook his hand and Holmes’s before getting back to work, while the two gentlemen returned to Baker Street.

10 Years Later:

Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson were seated at the table in their flat at 221B Baker Street for breakfast one morning. Holmes was busy on his phone while Watson had the paper open in front of him. However, Watson had made little progress in reading it; instead, he was preoccupied by his companion.

“Holmes,” Watson said at last, “I can hardly believe it, but do I see a touch of grey in your hair?”

Holmes looked up from his phone with a start and seemed to take a moment to realize what had been said. Finally, he replied, “Perhaps it is not my hair, but your keen vision that is beginning to fail you.”

Watson gave him a reproachful look, but he could not help but smile back. “You must have seen it in the mirror,” Watson insisted, “Unless it is your faculties that are failing. Mine are sharp enough to see the beginnings of wrinkles on my face.”

“No, I have seen them,” Holmes admitted, though he did not seem to mind, “And your wrinkles too; they accentuate your smile.”

“Then it’s true,” Watson marveled, “Age is beginning to catch up with us once more.”

Holmes nodded. “I would say so. And I, for one, am ready to do away with this false veneer of youth that I have worn for so long. What do you say?”

“I agree,” Watson answered. “I have lived a full life. And now, I can be grateful that I have lived long enough not to spend the rest of my time alone.”

Note: I’ve also written a short, romantic follow-up: Holmes and Watson Meet the 21st Century.

#v writes #Sherlock Holmes #H/W #The Man Who Sold the World

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17stepstobakerstreet · 5 years

Text

Johnlock Confession

The cab ride back to 221B Baker Street was unbearable, and Sherlock was about ready to swallow his pride and apologize to John Watson just so the silence would be gone, so that John would look at him. But he kept his mouth clamped shut and just glanced at Watson, his hunched figure leaning against the door of the cab. Sherlock flitted his eyes to the buildings outside the window and kept his gaze glued there as he processed information.

He’s mad at me, that much is obvious. The amount of danger must have been too much for him this time. Another glance towards John. His hands are clenching and unclenching, he’s going to punch me. At least once, if not twice. Right in the face. One more glance. Strange, his eyes are clenched shut. Holding back tears perhaps? Maybe he just doesn’t want to look at me.

The cab driver cleared his throat as he slowed down and eventually stopped in front of 221B Baker Street. Without a glance towards the detective sitting next to him, John shoved the door open and slammed it before stomping up to his front porch and entering the flat. Sherlock exited the cab and took a deep breath, preparing himself for the inevitable once he entered the flat.

When Sherlock entered the apartment, John was waiting there for him, back turned, forearms resting on the counter in the kitchen. Sherlocks heart squeezed for a second and he put his hand up to rest it on John’s shoulder, but talked himself out of it at the last moment and let it drop down to his side. He pushed away the confusion his head was throwing at him. Your heart is hurting, it’s aching. Why? Why is it doing that?

Sherlock decided to get the punching out of the way. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and said, “John, I-” He was rudely cut off by a sturdy fist slamming into his cheek, sending his face flying to the side. Instead of crying out, he just bit his lip before righting himself. Another fist slammed into his face, harder this time. Sherlock bit his lip with a bit more force before straightening himself.

When he found himself staring John Watson in the face, his heart squeezed a little more. He was breathing heavily through clenched teeth, eyebrows furrowed and face hard with anger. No, stop that, his brain scolded. There is no logical reason my heart should be in pain as of right now. John opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but snapped it shut and turned his back towards Sherlock, placing his hands on the counter in front of him.

A small, dry chuckle left Watson’s lips before quietly saying, “You just had to do it, didn’t you? I told you not to do it, I was yelling for you to stop. But you just had to put yourself in danger like that. You’re going to be the death of me Sherlock Holmes, and when that day finally comes, you’ll probably be able to solve your crimes and put yourself in as much bloody danger as you want, and you won’t have to deal with a worried, brainless man following you.”

A wave of anger mixed with more confusion washed over him. “I’m sorry John, I thought I made it clear that danger came along with the occupation. Anyways, you’ve never cared this much. What does it mean to you if I get beaten around a little bit? You didn’t care before, I don’t see why you’re starting to get mad now.” Watson glanced back at him, anger in his eyes. His heart rate is increased. Eyes dilating. Hands shaking. Eyes watering. Breath quickening.

“It. Doesn’t. Matter,” John said quietly, clenching his fists against the counter. “People can change, Sherlock Holmes. Not that you would know anything about changing for the better. You are my friend and I’m allowed to care about you when you put yourself in danger.” Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes, desperately trying to fight the emotions rising in his chest. His heart ached and he didn’t like the unfamiliar feeling, not one bit.

“Well, I suppose if you’re going to be too much of a coward to tell me why you actually care, this conversation-” He was cut of once more by John whipping around, grabbing him by the front of the shirt, and quickly maneuvering them so that Sherlock’s back was pressed into the edge of the counter. He could feel John’ body held tight against him.

My pulse is quickening. Blood is rushing to my face. My breathing is getting quicker, getting caught in my throat. Hands are trembling. Mouth feels dry. Sherlock’s brain kept throwing information and warning signs at him. Get out. Get out. I don’t know what’s happening. John Watson squeezed his eyes shut tightly, took in a deep breath, and swore before saying, “I’m definitely going to bloody regret this.”

A wave of understanding crashed into Sherlock when John pulled him in and pressed their lips together. He likes me. The signs were all there. And I like him. How could I have been so blind. The quickened heart rate, dilating pupils, the shaking hands. Sherlock must have gone rigid as his brain processed the information, because John shoved him back slightly before turning to walk away.

Sherlock’s hand shot out and grabbed Watson’s wrist before he could get far, and he roughly tugged John back to him and against his chest. He turned around and pressed John’s back into the counter and leaned down, almost nose to nose. John looked to the side to avert his gaze, his cheeks stained red. Sherlock just gazed at him intensely.

“Please let me go Sherlock. I just did it so that you knew why I was more concerned about you health recently. You don’t need to keep me here and embarrass me-” This time, it was Watson that got cut off by a quick, soft kiss to the lips. His eyes widened when he saw Sherlock looking at him with a happy look on his face, one that he only got at tough crime scenes.

“Oh John Watson, of course it would be you. John Watson, you keep me right!” Sherlock pressed a kiss to Watson’s temple before continuing. “The signs were all there, I was just being too dumb to put them together, but you, my conductor of light, of course you chose just the right moment to help me solve it. It has always been you John Watson, it always will be.”

“What are you going on about Sherlock? Your conductor of light? What did I help you solve? We just finished a case, we couldn’t have gotten another yet, could we?” John tried to push Sherlock away, but Sherlock just got closer and nuzzled his nose into Watsons neck, pressing his lips softly to the exposed skin there while deeply inhaling.

“I thought I made it clear. You kissed me because you like me. I saw all of the signs, but I couldn’t put them together. I was feeling the same way, but I’m not experienced in relationships, so I didn’t know what was happening. But, you chose just that moment to kiss me and I figured it out. And, I must say, I’m quite happy with this turn of events. I wasn’t expecting it, to be truthful.”

Without even looking at John’s face, Sherlock could tell that his mind was whirring with confusion. After a few seconds of silent contemplation, John hesitantly wrapped his arms around Sherlock and rubbed his back softly. Sherlock let out a content sigh, and for once, his mind wasn’t racing at a million miles a minute. A small chuckle left John’s mouth, and Sherlock extracted his face from John’s neck.

“So, what you’re saying,” John said with a sly smile on his face, “is that I have the one and only Sherlock Holmes wrapped around my finger?” Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, but when John ran his fingers up Sherlock back and buried them in his curly hair, he just closed his eyes and let out a soft, content sigh, a small smile on his lips.

“I suppose,” Sherlock mumbled, “you do.” He pushed his head back into John’s hands and smiled wider. John scratched over Sherlock’s scalp softly and chuckled when a low sound that resembled a purr rumbled out of Sherlock’s chest. When John pushed Sherlock softly away, a soft whine left Sherlock’s throat and his eyebrows furrowed. When Sherlock opened his eyes and realized that John was waiting for him on the couch with open arms, the smile returned.

Everything was right in 221B Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson laid on the couch together, nose to nose, smiling softly at each other. They both knew that this would become harder. There would be fights, as all relationships have those sometimes. But they knew deep down the could get through it. Right now was perfect, and that’s all that they needed.

#Sherlock Holmes #John Watson #Johnlock #Sherlock is confused #John is angry #Sherlock #Sherlock fanfiction #Johnlock Confession

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sailorjupitersworld · 6 years

Text

Coffee and Confessions (Pt. 2)

Spencer Reid x Reader

Plot/Summary: No matter where you were, whether you were working a case or just at the BAU, Spencer always brings you your coffee in the morning. Ever since the team called you two out, it’s been a little awkward. That doesn’t stop your morning ritual though.

Warnings: Some swearing, graphic description of gore and stuff.

a/n- SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG. I FEEL BAD SO IF YOU HATE ME I UNDERSTAND. :p

---

You pulled your jacket tighter as your feet sunk through the 4-foot layer of snow. You’d packed your warmest clothes but even those weren’t warm enough. It was at least 25 degrees and it didn’t seem to be getting any warmer.

The crime scene you were currently attending with Prentiss and Morgan looked like a massacre had taken place. Far out in the woods in a secluded area. It was probably a miracle it had even been found.

Dark red seeped through the innocent white that lay upon the ground. The imprint of each body still fresh. The bodies had been moved long ago and

This unsub was taking people in groups holding them for a week before taking them into the forest and slitting their throats. Multiple stab wounds and defensive wounds had riddled the bodies.

“Six bodies. How can our unsub abduct so many people in a town with such a low population, abduct six people?” Morgan thought aloud.

You shook your head and let out a breath, “Well, according to what the deputy just told us, four of these people were never even seen before.”

“Out of all the stuff we’ve seen, I think this has to be the worst. We need to catch this guy before he strikes again.” Prentiss stated bitterly.

“Well let’s get back and see what the others have figured out.” Morgan made his way to the SUV, Emily and you following not too far behind.

“I just can’t wait to get inside. It’s so cold I think the icicles are growing icicles.” You deadpanned.

“I’d believe it.” Emily chuckled.

----

You left the diner with three boxes of food in your hand and quickly headed to the station. When you arrived, you handed Hotch and Spencer a box each.

“I didn’t order anything, but thanks?” Hotch said furrowing his brow.

“Yeah, but Spence said you were here, so I just figured.” You shrugged. Spencer handed you the coffee and thanked you for the meal.

Derek had made everything between Spencer and you more awkward than it needed to be. You were still confused by what everyone had meant and when you attempted to ask, there’d just be a chuckle and the shake of a head.

The most you got out of anyone was Rossi. All he said was, “I may have been divorced three times, but I can tell when it’s in the air.”

You were quick to fill in the blank, but you couldn’t believe it. Did Spencer like you? How could he? There was no way. You were just some kid from (h/t) who worked for the FBI. He’s an absolute genius with a brain that could probably compete with Sherlock Holmes. It was probably just some stupid joke.

Shaking your head, you all sat there eating in silence as you looked back over the newest information you’d received. There were two more victims abducted and killed within 48 hours of the team’s arrival and now three more people were missing. This guy was incredibly fast and if the team didn’t find him soon, there’ll be a lot more casualties.

Within twenty minutes, everybody else filed in.

Morgan was on the phone, “Alright mama, you’re on speaker. Tell everybody what you just found.” He said and placed it on the table.

“Jack Owens, 35 lives alone, yet lives a seemingly normal life. Here’s where it gets sad, his parents were murdered in front of him during a home invasion. Mom’s throat slit dad was stabbed to death. 3 attempted suicides in the past two years.”

“Where is he now?” Hotch asked, rising from his seats. Everyone took that as a clue to get up as well.

“I’ve got a home and work address, sending it to you right now.”

“Garcia, I love you.” You said happily. “Let’s go get this son of a bitch.”

“We need to be careful, this man is extremely unstable. There’s no telling what he’ll do. Morgan, (L/n), Reid and I will take the home address. The rest of you take the work.” Hotch explained before making his way out of the station.

------

You pulled your Kevlar vest on as you exited the car. This meant you’d have to take off your coat and freeze, but if you could save these people it was worth it.

Quickly you ran up the drive way, following behind Hotch and Morgan with Spencer standing close by next to you. Policemen and paramedics were standing outside, waiting to be told what to do.

“Jack Owens! FBI open up!” Morgan shouted, waiting for a second to see if there’d be a response. When there wasn’t one, he kicked the door down swiftly.

You headed up the stairs cautiously as Hotch took the living room, Morgan the kitchen, and Spencer the two rooms downstairs. “Clear!” being shouted from each space.

Opening the door to one of the bedrooms, your eyes widened at the sight before you. There before you sat the two captives both beaten, bloody and unconscious. “I got them! I need a medic!” You exclaimed, relieved as you found a pulse on both.

You stepped out of the room to check the next room before you were tackled. The banister that was supposed to keep people from falling didn’t do you much good. It was now broken and the coffee table you had fallen upon splintered beneath you. The glass vase shattering under the weight of your back.

The breath swiftly knocked out of your lungs caused a hitch in your throat and a groan of pain left your lips. A fist connecting with your face brought you out of the minor haze that had come across your brain.

Throwing a punch back before throwing a swift kick to his nuts, you gained the upper-hand and pushed the rather large man off you. Yelping as you rolled to get away, the glass shifting deeper into your back, falling to your knees after a sharp pain radiated through your ankle.

Spencer ran to your aid and Morgan was quick to grab the man and cuff him.

“I need a medic!” Exclaimed Spencer as he attempted to shift you.

You cried out and shook your head, “N-no Spence. Those two need medical attention more than I do. I-I can walk.”

“No, you can’t (Y/n). You need stay here.”

“Spencer, just help me walk to one of the ambulances.”

Hotch was quick to come to your side, moving your arm around his shoulder carefully as Spencer did the same. Wincing, you attempted to stay off your ankle as much as possible. “You think I broke it?” You asked.

“I’m not that kind of doctor (N/n).” Spencer joked.

Chuckling, you shook your head as the two men led you out of the house.

-----

You sat on the jet, tired and sore. Your back still throbbing and ankle wrapped. It was sprained and extremely painful. Reaching into your go bag, you pulled out a bottle of aspirin and knocked back two.

Spencer slid into the seat across from you and tossed you (favorite candy).

“Thanks Spence.” You smiled.

“How’re you feeling?” He asked.

“Like I got hit with a bus.” You sighed. “But I’ll be alright.”

Spencer nodded, “When we get back, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to hang out? We could order a pizza and marathon whatever show you want?” He asked, his hazel eyes looking at you with hope.

A soft smile crossed your features, “Oh Spence, I think I love you.”

It wasn’t the first time you had said these words to each other, but red found it’s way onto both of your faces. “I-I mean… Oof. You know what I meant.” You said, hiding your face in your hands.

Spencer cleared his throat, “I think… I think I love you too.” He said nervously.

Your head snapped up in disbelief, “You do?”

“Yeah, I do.” Smiling at you hesitantly.

“Finally!” Rossi exclaimed from the other group of seats.

“Took you guys long enough!” Laughed JJ.

Prentiss pulled out a twenty from her back pocket before handing it to Hotch, everyone else doing the same.

“Did you guys bet on us!?” Spencer exclaimed.

“Sure did. Jack has a field trip on Friday. He’ll love having 80 dollars to buy knick-knacks.”

“I honestly can’t even be mad at you, I just feel mad respect right now.” You shrugged.

A laugh escaped everyone’s lips.

Turning back to Spencer you just smiled, “Ready for Netflix and pizza?” The jet was coming close to landing.

He smiled back sweetly, “It’s a date.”

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #specner reid drabble #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds one shot #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jereau #penelope garcia #trash1ty #therealtrashhere

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thorne93 · 6 years

Text

Curious Conundrum (Part 37)

Prompt: You’re John Watson’s sister. One day you decide to visit your brother for lunch, only to meet the infamous Mr. Holmes…

Word Count: 1718

Warnings: language, flirtation, sexual innuendos (maybe? idfk), murder/crime/case related stuff, angst, jealousy…

Notes: Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong Not only did she beta, but I literally couldn’t have written half these scenes without her help. She contributed majorly, even wrote some parts of scenes. I am forever in her debt.

Also, this starts AFTER Season 2, episode 1. I don’t follow all the episodes, but it does follow the timeline and hit some major events : )

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sherlock awoke in another room, much like the ones he’d been on. He was lying on the table in the room, only to be woken by the little girl speaking. He was stumbling about, trying to figure out where exactly he was.

As he was trying to instruct the little girl, he asked, “Are you there yet?”

Suddenly, you heard his voice. You woke up leaning against a brick wall. You took in a large gasp of air, feeling all over your body for a bullet wound, stunned and relieved when you found none.

“I’m here!” you answered, wondering where you were. You started to feel around in the darkness, feeling...stone? Something rough. You were outside, you could hear nature - trees, wind, water…

“Y/N! Oh thank God you’re alive,” he said with heavy relief. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know. I just woke up. Where are you?”

“I think I’m in another cell. I just spoke to the little girl on the plane. We've been out for hours.”

“Hours? Jesus… Wait, she’s still in the air?” you questioned. Something didn’t make sense. The ground was getting closer to her earlier, and now she was suddenly somehow in the air?

“Yes, the plane will keep flying until it runs out of fuel,” he informed.

“Yes, Sherlock I deduced that much on my own…” You rolled your eyes. Honestly sometimes he thought you were some ordinary person.

“Is Mycroft or John with you?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think so. John? John! Mycroft? Mycroft?” you called continuously but heard nothing but your own voice back. “No. They aren’t here.”

After a second of quiet, Sherlock finally asked, “Are you alright?”

“I’m as alright as I can be. I’m alive, you’re alive, that’s what matters,” you answered wryly.

“Okay, keep exploring. Tell me anything you can about where you are,” he demanded.

“Alright. The walls are rough, like stone, not brick. I’m standing on--”

But you stopped, realization finally hitting you.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Sherlock called in panic. “What is it? What do you see?”

“Water, Sherlock. I’m in about two feet of water. I can’t see beneath it but--” You tried to walk, but as soon as you did, your ankle caught. “My ankle is chained. It’s not flat. Hang on.” You reached down and picked up the odd thing you’d been stepping on. When your hands came out of the water and your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you gasped. “There are bones in here with me, Sherlock.”

“Bones? What kind of bones?”

“Small.”

After a second, he whispered, “Redbeard,” in your ear, then after that it was radio silence.

You wanted to panic, it felt like you should be panicking, but this once, your rational mind overcame fear. You took a deep breath, just hoping you would hear from Sherlock, and hoping your brother and Mycroft were okay. You tried pulling on the chain once more to see if it would come loose, but it was futile. All the tugging did was cut into your flesh.

“Man, I really hate his sister,” you quietly said to no one in particular. “She’s definitely not invited to the wedding.”

“Nearly home,” you suddenly heard.

“Sherlock? Hey, I’m in a well. I should’ve figured that out with the water and stone but it’s so damned dark.”

“Why would there be a well in Sherrinford?” he wondered.

“I don’t know… fresh water?” you tried.

“Shut up,” he ordered and you rolled your eyes. However infuriating, you knew he must need to concentrate to find you, the boys, and the plane.

Several minutes went by while Sherlock spoke to someone you couldn’t hear, so you waited and waited until suddenly water started to pour in on top of you in the well. It wasn’t rain either.

“Sherlock?”

He didn’t respond.

“Sherlock?” you tried again, keeping the urgency out of your voice.

Nothing.

“Sherlock, please, I know you’re trying to focus but the well is filling up.”

“Try hard not to drown, as long as you can,” he ordered.

“Oh, thanks for the tip,” you shouted back. God, what an ass. But your frustration quickly dissipated when you realized just how fast the water was rising. What was at tops of your legs was now at your waist. “Sherlock, hurry!”

Sherlock tried talking again, he wasn’t talking to you but you tried to focus on his voice to keep you calm. Eventually, the bones were floating all around you and you eyed them curiously. These bones weren’t an animals as you had suspected. They were longer than that and then --

“Uh, Sherlock. The bones in here with me--”

“Yes, they’re dog’s bones. Redbeard,” he said with an agitated voice.

“They’re not dog’s bones, Sherlock,” you stated with horror lacing your voice as you saw the skull floating by.

More chatting in your ear, but the water continued to fill up the well around you, You tried to keep your head up and back away from the rising water.

“Need your help. I’m trying to solve a puzzle,” he said and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or his other company.

“The wrong dates. She used the wrong dates on the gravestones as the key to the cipher.and the cipher was the song,” he muttered.

At first you weren’t sure what the hell he was talking about, but this was Sherlock. He’d never let anything happen to you, so you left him be. Shouting at him, begging for him to work faster, or wondering what he was doing wouldn’t have helped.

But soon the water was nearly too high, at your neck and rising quickly. You braced yourself for having to possibly wade against the chains or hold your breath however long you could.

The water started to get on the earpiece and you could barely make out what Sherlock was saying. Accepting your fate seemed imminent, so you began saying your quiet goodbyes again. They were out loud at first, but then the water came up past your mouth and nose, so you held your breath, praying this would at least be painless.

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

You weren’t entirely sure what happened next. You knew you felt a hand, a body, gripping yours and then you were warmer. Eventually, your full senses came back and you realized you were sitting in an ambulance, a warm blanket over you.

“Hey, there you are,” John said as he walked up, noticing you were more aware of your surroundings.

“Where are we?” you asked uneasily as you looked into the darkness. It appeared to be a country cottage that had burned.

“Musgrave. Sherlock grew up here. “

“But… why are we here?”

John waited a moment, then said, “I’m going to let him explain that to you.” With that, he glanced up and Sherlock was making his way towards you.

John patted your leg and stood, giving you two privacy. Sherlock sat next to you then.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” you answered.

“That's fair.”

Your eyes searched the area of emergency vehicles and you saw that Eurus was loaded up in a van.

“There’ taking her back to Sherrinford, aren’t they?”

“I’m afraid so. I told her I’d take her home.”

“That’s not possible for someone like her.”

“I know but I… feel so bad.”

You shook your head. “What happened here?”

Sherlock looked up, gazing at the charred home as he sighed and answered. “Long ago, when I was a child, we played here. Lived here. I had a friend, Victor who… well… we played pirates. I called him Redbeard, and I was YYellowbeard. Eurus… her mind was already so complicated, so complex that she felt as though she wasn’t included. I suppose the adolescent psychopathy drove her to a jealous fit of rage and she… killed my best friend, because she felt she was alone.”

“That’s...the most awful thing I’ve ever heard,” you confessed.

“Yes…It is.”

Lestrade approached then and said that Mycroft was found alive and safe in Eurus old cell. Sherlock asked that he look after Mycroft.

“So… where do we go from here?” Sherlock asked.

“Where do you want to go?”

“For starters, I think my parents should know Eurus is alive,” he stated.

“Are you sure?”

“No matter what she’s done, or what she is, she is their daughter. They have a right to know.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you agreed.

“So I suppose this is it, then.”

“This is what?” you inquired.

“Well... you said you didn’t want me to say those words to you again, and after everything that’s happened I would assume you--”

You shook your head and closed your eyes. “I wasn't breaking up with you, you idiot. You just can’t say that to me anymore.”

After a moment he nodded. “Even after what I said to Molly? Can you ever forgive me for what I did? What I said? I should've listened to you. Eurus is dangerous, but my huge ego got in the way.”

You smiled. “At least you’re a big enough man to admit that. You’ve come a long way.”

“I’ve still got a very long way to go… a journey that I hope… you’ll accompany me on?” he asked hesitantly, scared for your answer.

You let out a sigh. “Sherlock, I’m not… mad about what you said to Molly. I was only hurt. No matter what happens between you and I, the fact that you chose Molly to confide in when you staged your suicide and not me will always be a thorn in my side. Irene too. Women that matter a lot to you, I worry that one day you won’t think I measure up.”

He turned to you and placed his fingers under your chin and lifted your face so that you were looking into his eyes. He was never this tender or sweet in public.

“Y/N Watson, how many times must I tell you that you are, always have been, and always will be enough?” he questioned with soft wonder and concern.

A tiny smile touched the corners of your mouth.

“And how many times do I have to tell you, that I’ll always say yes to you?”

“I guess we’ll just have to keep doing it,” he noted before he kissed you gently.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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@superwholocked527

@missinstantgratification

@thejemersoninferno

@rda1989

@munlis

@thefridgeismybestie

@bubblyanarocks3

@igiveupicantthinkofausername

@kaliforniacoastalteens

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@kaeling

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@yknott81

@sorryimacrapwriter

@glitterquadricorn

@xxqueenofisolationxx

@little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama

@bittersweetunicorm

@alyssaj23

CC tag: @disneyoncerlover815 @ultrarebelheart @tngrayson @clairese1980 @ladyblablabla @molethemollie @lareinedususpense007

#curious conundrum #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes fic #sherlock fic #sherlock holmes #john watson

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nightingveilxo · 7 years

Photo

Why Irene Adler is in TLD & Just Another Source for Mary

ASiB

Irene: Do you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr Holmes? ...However hard you try, it’s always a self-portrait. Sherlock: You think I’m a vicar with a bleeding face? [An innocent] Irene: No, I think you’re damaged, delusional, and believe in a higher power. (Everyone always gives up after three.) In your case, it’s yourself... Oh, and somebody loves you. Why, if I had to punch that face, I’d avoid your nose and teeth too. *She looks over at John, who forces a laugh*

How Moffat saw the aftermath between Sherlock and Irene...

However, Steven Moffat says otherwise: “The scene does not take place in Sherlock’s Mind Palace, nor could it. He’s been told a lie about where Irene Adler is, so he wouldn’t have fantasied saving her from a terrorist cell, he had no reason to have to. No, he really does go and save her.

“He really does that, because if you remember earlier on in the story, Irene says, ‘I make my way in the world, and my trick is I get people to be exactly where I want them, when I want them there. That’s my super power. That’s what I do.’ Sherlock a few scenes later says, ‘I’m the one guy you can’t put a collar on’ and at the very end… yep, he turns up dressed as an Arabian Knight and hacks up some terrorists, and Irene’s sitting there going, ‘Oh yes! Talk to me momma!'” [This becomes important, because in TRF it is a trick, and in TLD it’s a plan. Throughout S4, Sherlock has the super power of getting people where he wants them to be, by predicting behavior.]

He also had some ideas about the immediate aftermath:

“I actually wrote a scene about what happened afterwards, because I got so curious about it. I had Sherlock turning around after he had hacked up all the terrorists, still very cross, and sort of saying, ‘I hope you don’t think that this means I am in any way interested in you?’ And Irene’s already got a gun on him—as she picks up a gun from the floor—and says, ‘No, but I am going to need male costume to get out of here.’ [Instead of a machete or scimitar in TLD, Sherlock gets a mysteriously vanishing scalpel. He’s doing surgery of his own.]

“And so Sherlock is left naked and Irene runs off dressed as him. That’s what I think would happen next.”

He then issued the final word for anyone convinced that the ending painted Sherlock as more of a muscular movie hero than the thrillingly cerebral sociopath we all know and love:

“Some people say he won; he lost, because he admitted he cared. Having hacked up terrorists with bodies all over the floor, him covered in blood, and he’s trying to retain his dignity, saying, ‘I was passing and it was a night I thought I’d hack up some terrorists… Oh, you’re here, I didn’t know. I don’t even like you… oh, don’t pull a gun on me…’ [Irene voice] ‘Strip!’, [Sherlock voice] ‘Oh, it’s not fair. I saved your life!’

“And something like that happens between Irene and Sherlock every 6 months and THAT is their idea of a night of passion.” ( x )

Which means...Moffat wasn’t writing Irene as being a romantic entanglement for Sherlock. They’re passionate people, but they’re still not in that kind of arrangement. (Subtext: Irene knows John is in love with Sherlock, and she considers them a couple?)

TLD

“Why, if I had to punch that face, I’d avoid your nose and teeth too.”

John having turned him in away, Sherlock believes John would automatically go for --nose or teeth.

TD12 - TheDominatrix + IreneAdlerT(he)W(woman)

You will know when you are beaten.

Irene’s Texts...

John’s blog is HILARIOUS.

You do know that hat actually suits you, don’t you?

I like your funny hat.

I’m thinking of sending you a Christmas present.

Happy New Year

Nurse Cornish: I love his blog, don’t you? John: His blog? *pause* It’s my blog.

Sherlock: It is. He writes the blog. Nurse Cornish: It’s yours? *speaking to John* John: Yes.

Nurse Cornish: You write Sherlock’s blog? John: Yes.

Nurse Cornish: It’s … gone downhill a little bit, hasn’t it?

Because, in Sherlock’s mind, the blog is representing the downhill nature of his relationship with John.

*insert the various references ghost!Mary makes about getting John to have Sherlock wear the hat, because she likes it so much*

MARY: That’s the text alert of Irene Adler. She’s the scary mad one, right? JOHN (to Sherlock): That noise.

SHERLOCK (raising his mug to his mouth again): What noise? (Mary walks around to Sherlock’s side and looks down at him.) MARY: But she’s dead. (She sucks in a long gasp and looks at John.) Ooh, I bet she isn’t dead! (John walks slowly closer while Mary bends down to look at Sherlock, smiling at him.) MARY: I bet he saved her! (Laughing) Oh my God! (Sherlock tries to look as if he doesn’t understand the fuss as John walks closer to him, frowning.) MARY: Oh, the posh boy loves the dominatrix! (Raising her eyes to John as she speaks) He’s never knowingly under-clichéd, is he? (John stops in front of his chair, looking thoughtful. Sherlock looks up at him.) SHERLOCK: John? JOHN: I’m gonna make a deduction. SHERLOCK: Oh, okay. That’s good. JOHN: And if my deduction is right, you’re gonna be honest and tell me, okay? SHERLOCK: Okay. Though I should mention that it is possible for any given text alert to become randomly attached to a ... JOHN (interrupting): Happy birthday. (Recall, Sherlock’s birthday is January 6th, so right after Christmas, and on Epiphany. Also, like Culverton, after this portion of the scene--John can’t stop confessing.) (Mary, now standing up straight, smiles down at Sherlock as he looks up at John silently for a moment, then nods his head.) SHERLOCK: Thank you, John. That’s ... very kind of you. (He looks down to his mug.) JOHN: Never knew when your birthday was. SHERLOCK (quietly, lifting the mug to his lips): Well, now you do. (He drinks.) JOHN: Seriously, we’re not gonna talk about this? SHERLOCK (keeping his eyes lowered): Talk about what? JOHN: I mean, how does it work? SHERLOCK (precisely, still not meeting his eyes): How does what work? JOHN (smiling briefly): You and The Woman. (Sherlock closes his eyes and sighs in exasperation as John continues.) JOHN: D’you go to a discreet Harvester sometimes? Is there a ... night of passion in High Wycombe? [Harvester is a restaurant chain in the UK. High Wycombe is a town in Buckinghamshire.] SHERLOCK: Oh, for God’s sakes. I don’t text her back. JOHN (chuckling as he moves a few steps across the room): Why not?! (He stops and looks at him, grinning, and his voice becomes louder.) JOHN: You bloody moron! (Sherlock stares up at him.) JOHN (loudly): She’s out there ... (he points towards the stairs) ... she likes you, and she’s alive. (His voice starts to get angry.) JOHN: ... and do you have the first idea how lucky you are? (Beside Sherlock, Mary smiles down at him as he looks up at John, his left hand upturned on the arm of the chair as if still pretending he doesn’t know what John’s talking about.) JOHN: Yes, she’s a lunatic, she’s a criminal, she’s insanely dangerous – trust you to fall for a sociopath ... (Everyone always gives up after three.) (As he was speaking, Mary has walked across the room towards the kitchen. Now she turns her head towards John as she loops around his chair.) MARY (exasperated): Oh, married an assassin! (She heads off across the room and ends up in front of the dining table. She turns and leans against the back of one of the dining chairs while John talks loudly to Sherlock, his hands on his hips.) JOHN: ... but she’s ... you know ... (He stops, unable to find the words.) SHERLOCK: What? JOHN: Just text her back. SHERLOCK: Why? JOHN: Because High Wycombe is better than you are currently equipped to understand. (Sherlock looks down, pouting a little.) SHERLOCK: I once caught a triple poisoner in High Wycombe. JOHN (quieter): That’s only the beginning, mate. SHERLOCK (sighing): As I think I have explained to you many times before, romantic entanglement, while fulfilling for other people ... JOHN (interrupting): ... would complete you as a human being. SHERLOCK: That doesn’t even mean anything. JOHN (leaning closer to him): Just text her. Phone her. Do something while there’s still a chance, because that chance doesn’t last forever. Trust me, Sherlock: it’s gone before you know it. (Firmly, emphasising each word) Before you know it. (Mary lowers her head, her face sad. Sherlock flicks a couple of nervous glances up at John. After a moment, John tilts his head towards where Mary is standing.)

Sherlock later admits that he does text Irene back from time to time, but it’s only after the situation is resolved with John. He also later puts on the hat, and speaks to Mary, but John looks and she isn’t there.

Culverton on the news:

Mary is KITTY Riley ( x )

Mary is Also Molly ( x )

Mary is Also Ian from Janus Cars ( x )

Sherlock and John Became a Couple in TLD ( x ) Part I

Sherlock Became Captain Watson’s Soldier in S4 ( x ) Part II

@may-shepard @monikakrasnorada @swimmingfeelsinajohnlockianpool @kateis-cakeis @sarahthecoat @sherlockians-get-bored @princesse-des-lucioles @devoursjohnlock @love-in-mind-palace

Transcript ( x )

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writingwife-83 · 7 years

Text

Sherlolly Appreciation Week, Day 3- First Kiss

Thanks for the feedback a couple months ago! Seemed that a number of you liked the idea of me covering this day’s theme, so I went for it. Hope you enjoy it! ;)

First Things First

Sherlock shoved the lift button aggressively.

“Alright, relax,” John counseled. “The button didn’t pull Molly into an unexpected meeting.”

“It could have worked today, John! I could have done it!” Sherlock complained as the doors finally opened and they got in the lift. “It’s been almost three weeks now and I can’t understand why this is so difficult!”

“Maybe you’re making a bit more of this than you need to.” After receiving a glare, John put his hands up defensively and clarified. “No no, look, I’m not saying that asking Molly out isn’t a big deal. I’m just saying that maybe you need to put a bit less pressure on yourself to do it perfectly.”

“But I have a speech, John!”

“Right, yeah, I know.” John did his best not to laugh aloud. “But I think that you could possibly save a bit of the speech for another time. The actual invitation can be pretty concise.”

“There are things that need to be said, things she needs to know,” Sherlock insisted.

“Mate, I’m pretty sure the important bits were said in that phone call.” He laughed and shook his head. “You’ve got plenty of time to say lots of other things. Maybe on that date, if you’d just get her there!”

“Yes, but isn’t a question like this supposed to be…” He gestured inarticulately. “Special or something? I can’t very well just walk up to her and say, ‘Molly, will you have dinner with me?’”

John’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Dinner?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Oh, do grow up, Watson.”

John smirked in response. “Look, the rest of the world really does just come out and ask, but leave it to you to assume the norm isn’t good enough.”

“Yes, but that’s just it. Molly and I are not the norm, John! How many people confess their love over a phone call that was rigged by their brilliant psychopath of a sister simply for the purpose of playing a mind game? And now we’ve barely spoken of it in the weeks following!” Sherlock let out a little growl as they left the hospital. “I shouldn’t have let it go this long!”

“Yeah I have to agree with you there. Which is why you need to just come out with it, one way or another, and stop letting time fly by.”

“Right, fine,” Sherlock agreed with a sigh. “Maybe I’ll go back and edit what I’m going to say again. I might be able to shave off a few minutes.”

“Wow, a whole few minutes, eh?” John’s sarcasm was lost by Sherlock as he hailed a cab.

Ten minutes later he heard a ping on his mobile and saw a text. Not too surprisingly, it was Molly.

HI, JOHN. LOOK, I HATE TO PUT YOU IN THE AWKWARD MIDDLE HERE, BUT PLEASE JUST TELL ME…IS HE GOING TO DO IT SOON?? -MH

John had to pretend to look out the cab window for fear of revealing his barely contained laughter while answering the understandably impatient pathologist.

HE’S MAKING PROGRESS, SLOWLY BUT SURELY. DOING MY BEST TO SPEED THINGS ALONG! -JW

HOPING HE SPEAKS UP BEFORE I COMPLETELY SNAP…THANKS, JOHN. ;) -MH

“What do you think, John?” Sherlock asked while looking intently at his phone screen. “Should I include the simile that compares the comfort of her flat to an oasis in a waterless region?”

John pressed his lips together for a moment before whispering to himself, “Yep, she’s gonna snap.”

Sherlock smiled to himself as Molly came back into the lab with the results he was looking for. He was sure he’d be able to manage a few minutes alone with her today. John was ready and waiting to take a walk on his signal, and there was only one other employee there at the moment and they were working on the other side of the room.

“Here you go,” Molly said with a sweet smile as she handed the papers to Sherlock.

“Thank you.” He made sure to graze her hand with his while taking them.

John conspicuously cleared his throat nearby.

This was probably a good moment, and Sherlock was seconds from telling John that “their work was nearly done for the day.” That was the previously agreed upon signal. Unfortunately, that was when Mike Stamford popped his head in.

“Oh, well hello there! Gosh, it’s been an age, hasn’t it?”

“Hey, Mike, how are you?” John asked warmly, though Sherlock caught the nervous glance from his friend who was very well aware that a wrench had just been thrown in the works.

“Good! And how are you? Been meaning to phone you since…everything.” His clapped a friendly hand on John’s shoulder. “Don’t think I’ve seen you since the funeral.”

“Well, y’know, things got a bit…mad for a while there. But it’s, um, not too bad now. You should see Rosie, she’s getting pretty big. Actually I’ve got some pictures on my phone-”

“John,” Sherlock interjected, using his friend’s name as a means of pleading for help as he observed the way that Molly stood by nervously chewing her lip.

John got the hint. “Right, um, actually I was just about to take a walk. Maybe if you’re going that way you could come along and I’ll show you the pictures.”

“Sure, in just a minute. I was actually coming to discuss something with Molly, so when I’m done here we could take a walk and catch up,” he said with a friendly smile while walking past him to where Molly stood.

John gave Sherlock an apologetic “I tried” look.

It took a full fifteen minutes for Mike to finish his lengthy discussion with Molly about having her join in one of his class demonstrations. She seemed to be doing her best to speed the conversation along, agreeing to every idea and confirming her availability instantly. In fact, Sherlock was becoming more and more convinced that she might have some clue as to the fact that he was trying to manage a few minutes alone.

Finally, Mike began to slowly take his leave. “Glad to see you as well, Sherlock!”

“Mm, yes, you too,” Sherlock fired back with a quick smile, hoping not to spark any more conversation with the man.

“So why don’t we take that walk now. I’d really like a cuppa at the canteen right about now,” John said, following Mike to the door.

Sherlock glanced over slowly and he caught Molly’s eyes as the two men were moments from taking their leave. Their hope was rather quickly crushed though. The lab door swung open and Greg Lestrade came strolling in.

“Hey, Sherlock, I thought I might find you here!”

Sherlock was sure he heard a little huff come out of Molly’s mouth as she set a dish down rather forcefully.

“Greg, hello…bit busy at the moment.”

“Oh this won’t take long,” he said casually, walking over and taking a file out of his jacket. “Good you’re all here. I can tell you about the new case! Double homicide, looks like. I’m having the bodies brought here now.”

“Actually, Greg,” John attempted to jump in, still standing near the door with Mike. “Mike and I were just about to get some coffee. Want to come along and then we can all go over the case then?”

“Well we’re all here now, aren’t we?” Greg laughed while opening the file. “So these are some of the photos from the crime scene. And the two bodies…”

Sherlock clenched his teeth and gripped the edge of the table firmly as he half listened to what seemed like at most a level five case. Perhaps he could deal with this quickly. Get briefed about the case, send Greg away happy with John and Mike, and then finally be able to-

“My God, I can’t take it anymore!” Molly suddenly yelled, making all eyes snap to her. She turned to Greg who was staring at her wide eyed. “Are these people going to be any more dead than they already are if we go over these details after they’ve been brought in?”

Greg stammered a moment. “I, uh, well…no.”

“Right, good,” Molly stated as she reached over and closed his file and handed it back to him. “So you can meet us down in the morgue in a half hour once those poor people have arrived. And for now you can take a little stroll with John and Mike and enjoy hearing the latest about little Rosie while you all get coffee. And nobody is to come back here looking for Sherlock and I because we need a few minutes alone so he can bloody ask me out!”

None of the men in the room could manage to pick their jaws up off the ground. The lab tech across the room actually raised his hand nervously.

“Yes, what?” Molly snapped at him.

“Sh-should I go too then?”

“Yes, please! Everybody out!”

John came to his senses first and assisted in herding the rest of them out the door. He lastly gave Sherlock a wide eyed and amused smile before stepping out and closing the door behind them. Sherlock cleared his throat before finally turning to Molly again and she smiled with an accompanying blush.

“Sorry, I just…thought I’d help a bit.”

The corner of Sherlock’s lips ticked up a bit and he realized that this was his chance now. Here they were, alone at last, and he could finally say what he so desperately needed to. In fact, she was waiting for it now. He cleared his throat again.

“Molly…er, there’s quite a bit that I’d like to…say.”

She gazed up at him with eager eyes, giving him a little nod of encouragement.

“I’ve given this significant thought, you see,” he went on, anxiety mounting as he slowly came to the realization that everything he’d given a lot of thought to was suddenly in a big fat jumble in his brain. “And I want to make sure to express things…just right.”

“Ok,” she breathed out, stepping a bit closer.

“Right, so, the general idea…” Good God, her eyes were distracting. “Or rather, the key points would be…um…” Say something, say something!

But he wasn’t given the opportunity to make a further attempt. Molly grasped the lapels of his jacket to give him a bit of a downward tug, and then caught his lips with hers.

The initial jolt of the unexpected kiss made him startle, but Molly didn’t back down. She anchored her arms around the back of his neck and slid her fingers into his hair while easily coaxing his lips apart. He sunk into their kiss after that, feeling a warm rush flood through him as his arms instinctively began to participate, encircling her and holding her tight.

By the time she slowly pulled back and looked into his eyes, he felt like a pile of mush and could barely remember what it was that he was about to say a few moments ago. He could only really manage to make a few simple words to tumble from his tingling lips.

“Have dinner with me, Molly,” he murmured breathlessly.

Molly’s pink lips spread in a grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He had a moment of added mental clarity and spoke again. “Th-there really is quite a bit more to say though. Lots that I’d like to explain and-”

“Mm, me too. But why don’t we save that for now? We can spend lots of time talking at dinner, maybe tonight?” She curled her fingers tighter in his hair and lifted herself up a bit on her toes. “Let’s just do this first…”

#sherlolly #mollock #sherlollyweek2017 #day 3 first kiss #first things first #will post on AO3 soon

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lilsherlockian1975 · 7 years

Text

I’ve got nothing for Six Sentence Sunday, but here’s a little taste of ‘Daniel’. (yes, every time I work on this fic, I hear the Elton John song over and over again in my head!) It’s the super angsty story I talked about a couple of weeks ago, though the happy ending is coming. @likingthistoomuch and @mrsmcrieff I’m looking at you girls...

WARNING: This story deals with the loss of a child. This little excerpt is a moment of Molly dealing with her depression over it, and Sherlock dealing with all his feelings. DO NOT READ if this is upsetting to you in any way. My intention is not to cause anyone hurt. At no point in the story do we see the child’s death, only the aftermath. It’s about Molly’s recovery, and Sherlock’s unrequited love for her many years after HLV.

Thank you ~Lil~

Sherlock was nearly out of his mind with worry. Thankfully he was also a master at masking his emotions. He, John and Mary sent an untold amount of texts to one another about Molly's emotional state; no one seemed to have any solutions.

He was sitting at the kitchen table looking at a cold case file that Lestrade had brought ‘round the previous day when Molly suddenly seemed to want to make idol conversation.

“Is it warm outside?” she asked, staring out the window.

He looked up, quite surprised at her sudden talkativeness. “Yes, it's rather nice today. Would you like to take a walk, Molly?” Standing, he slowly approached, as if she were a frightened animal.

With a shake of her head, she said, “Just wondered.” She took a deep breath. “His birthday is…would have been next week. I almost feel like I should do something.”

Her eyes were glassy, unfocused. She had been taking a lot of anxiety pills recently; he must talk to John about gradually reducing them. “Of course, if you want to. If that would help, we could organize something.” He pulled up his desk chair and sat in front of her hoping that she was willing to talk even more.

“Do you know why I adopted him Sherlock?” She finally looked directly at her temporary flat mate. “That's silly, I'm sure you deduced it, probably over the phone when I asked for your help.”

Sherlock knew why she had adopted Daniel. She was working with Médecins Sans Frontiéres when his parents were brought in very badly ill with malaria. Both of them had died, but due to what Molly had coined a 'miracle' Daniel had not contracted the disease and was quite well, all things considered. She was nearly finished with her six month volunteer tour, so she phoned Sherlock asking if he could help her bring Daniel home as he had no family left to care for him.

Sherlock had had some reservations. In his opinion Molly had always been far too soft hearted - too quick to want to offer a helping hand - and he of course immediately assumed that that was what was going on. He was afraid she was making a rash decision. But after her second phone call he made some adjustments in his deductions. Molly was lonely and wanted a child. This was a logical solution for her. So he phoned his brother and after a bit of persuasion, Mycroft was only too happy to assist the young doctor that had helped keep his brother alive and supplied in cadaver parts.

“Please Molly, explain it to me,” Sherlock said, trying to keep her talking.

She sighed and rolled half onto her belly, resting her chin on the arm of the sofa. Keeping her focus on the window, she asked, “Have you ever been in love, Sherlock?”

Somehow, managed to contain his gasp at the unexpected question. Sherlock Holmes was rarely surprised but when he was, he had to admit it was usually at the hands of Molly Hooper. He maintained his cool exterior when she glanced over at him.

“Right, I forgot who I was talking to.” She turned back to the window. “I loved my parents, then they died. I was madly in love with my uni boyfriend and he cheated on me leaving me completely heartbroken. I thought I loved Tom, but it was something... else, I suppose.”

There was a pause, she seemed to be carefully considering her next words.

“Then there's unrequited love, which may be the cruelest of all. Like a tree falling in a forest... if there's no one to hear it, does it really make a sound?”

It does, he thought. It sounds like your voice saying goodbye when you left me for six months.

She adjusted herself again, tucking her arms under her chin. “Daniel was the first person, since my parents, who I loved who truly loved me back. Pure unadulterated adoration. I finally had something, then he left me too. They all leave me...” She put her forehead on down on the arm of the sofa and sobbed.

Sherlock felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. The pit in his stomach felt like it reached his toes and he was certain he was trembling. For all his arrogance and bravado he couldn't stop the burning in the back of his throat or the sting in his eyes. He was very grateful that Molly's head was currently buried in his sofa cushion. All he could do was reach up and gently touch her back, speaking now would give far too much away. It would give away everything he had keep so well hidden for so many years. Because watching the love of his life's heart break in front of him was like nothing he'd ever faced before. All these weeks were weighing heavy on the normally stoic detective. He was actually missing James Moriarty right at that moment. He would much rather be going toe to toe with a mad man than watching this scene in front of him.

Sherlock's head had taken far too long to catch up with his heart when it came to Molly Hooper, and when it did he still kept his revelation to himself for two reasons. First of all, she was far too good for the emotionally stunted self-proclaimed sociopath. The pedestal Sherlock had placed Molly upon was something akin to Everest (no, it was higher), far out of reach for mere mortals like himself. When the realisation hit him he'd spent several days in his mind palace traversing her rooms (yes rooms.) They were opulent... yet somehow comforting and cozy. Everyone else's were plain, utilitarian. It had taken him years to build them and he had given hers so much meticulous detail, he was completely shocked that he hadn't noticed it before.

His second reason was the clear evidence that Molly's feelings for him had changed. He had known that for quite some time. She had completely moved on from her crush, her infatuation, and yes, romantic love, and placed him firmly into the 'friend' category in her life. They had a comfortable companionship and he had no wish to disturb that. If he confessed his feelings and Molly suddenly felt like she couldn't be in his presence anymore, his world would collapse. He simply wouldn't allow it. Suffering in silence was the only solution.

To say that Sherlock loved Molly was an insult to his heart... he worshiped her. She was perfection. She was his savior, his conscience. She was the one person that kept him from turning back to drugs. Ironically he had realised this at the same time he realised his affection for her both existed and could not be reciprocated. He was determined he would not cause Molly Hooper anymore pain, no matter what he did in his life, he wouldn't hurt her ever again.

As he watched her breaking down in his sitting room after nearly a month of silence, Sherlock Holmes felt the stirring of a plan. He hadn't felt like this since Mycroft called him with the news of Daniel's death. He felt a small flicker of hope.

#sherlolly #angst #child death #unrequited love

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misc-oneshots · 7 years

Note

Hi do you do Sherlock headcannons? If so, can you do one with Sherlock x hacker reader

(Awful confession for an English person to make, I’ve not watched all of the TV series BUT BUT BUT I HAVE read all of the original books so I’m going to try to pull this together through knowledge of both, okay?)- Enjoying messing with Sherlock because he doesn’t like to learn things that he deems ‘useless’ because otherwise he’ll forget something important so you constantly read him random facts

- Untuning his violin when he’s annoyed you but doesn’t understand why

- Hacking into John’s website all the time to add little doodles of Sherlock with a monocle and a hat onto the page

- Also changing his name to ‘Shershit’ on the blog when he’s pissed you off

- Constantly helping Sherlock outwit his brother by hacking into his systems and giving Sherlock the information

- Mycroft can’t bring himself to be mad because at least someone is looking after his brother

- Threatening both of them by promising to hack into their mothers computer and change her wallpaper to a photo of them both smoking - they never touch your stuff because of this

- Sherlock will sometimes break his electric items by dropping them or snapping them in half, he still somehow expects you to fix it

- him getting grumpy because he wants your attention and you’re giving it all to your laptop

- but he doesn’t tell you this, he just sighs and drops himself down into his chair

- He steals you fancy tech from crime scenes

- Lestrade often demands it back but you play dumb

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monikakrasnorada · 7 years

Text

Was just going through my Google docs and came across this. A group of us decided to write up our ‘predictions’ for S4 and what a laugh. The date on this was December 31. Some of it turned out to be pretty damn close, but fucking hell. The rest of it? Not so much.

Read on for a good laugh at what someone who used to believe in the story I thought Mofftiss were telling. *sad trombone noises*

Series 4 predictions.

I’m not entirely sure how to look at what we’ve seen from setlock and the trailers without my EMP glasses on. I believe the reason for the lockdown on TFP isn’t just about Johnlock, but also the reveal of just how much of the series has been mind palace up to this point.

Here we go!

T6T: I’m trying to work out Mark’s comments about how the ep has a lot of starts, will be shown in action. Will it just jump from scene to scene:? Straight from the tarmac to tunnel birth, to Sherlock dismissing clients a la the beginning of ASiB, to happy family bunny-bomb baby outings (or the Naby, as I now call it, because there is No Baby). Christenings.

All the domesticity wearing on John. Especially as he watches Sherlock’s continued downward spiral with the drugs and pulling away with the Thatcher case. The ep will be a lot of John being pulled in both directions. Cracks showing that he wants the life with Sherlock more than his married life.

I believe the bus stop scenes, the meeting with the mysterious woman that will lead the ‘viewer’ and maybe Sherlock and / or Mary to think John is cheating. Though I am still convinced (85%?) that Bus Stop Woman is Sian Brooke. She is Smith’s daughter and maybe she came to Sherlock (the scene where John says, ‘enlighten me then’) could possibly be her, and Sherlock may find it dull to begin with, dismiss it but John works on it alone? To compensate for missing the ‘excitement and danger’. It also works with the comment that there is a ‘villain’ more in the background of this episode, which could be Smith?

Sherlock picks up the Thatcher case, like he did the Ricoletti case. It’s mp, so this works. It’s a case that can work for him to get to just what or who Mary is.

I do not think the Morocco confrontation happens in T6T. This thought just came to me today. AA was at Miskin. I’m not keen on the theory she just ‘showed’ up to fake people out during filming. Maybe she did, but I think we are going to see Mary in all the eps. :(

I don’t know what to make of the yellow face speculations, the Moran theory. There has to be some connection. The universe is rarely so lazy. Will she show up on that beach with Moriarty? If John wasn’t her assignment then I don’t know what is going on? But I can’t work it out.

Whatever happens, whether it’s something revealing about Mary that Sherlock shares with John, or the ‘cheating’ thing, it’s bad. Bad enough for John and Sherlock to nearly sever ties.

TLD: This ep is going to be off the charts. I like the idea that we get shared POV revealed in this one. Sherlock will be convinced by John to take up the Smith case. Sherlock will spiral further into madness from there. Truly coming close to being buried in his mp. It will get so bizarre and out of control that the audience will have no other conclusion to come to that none of it can be real. Maybe that’s when the ep will split. We’ll get John at a comatose Sherlock’s bedside, just after his shooting. I toyed with the idea that ‘going back’ will be literal. Not to the Reichenbach fall, but the fall he took in CAMs office. It will continue in ‘real life’ from there. And that’s when we get to see what John is doing.

John “Pretty Damn Smart” Watson. Takes up the ‘case’ of Who Shot Sherlock? Sherlock told us that Sir Eustace’s murder (which is a mirror image of Sherlock’s own gunshot wound) (mirrors, gotta love them) was so simple that even Scotland Yard could figure it out, but yet- he got it wrong! He believes John won’t. And I don’t either. There is plenty to be going on with.

I believe this is when Mary runs. John tracks her to Morocco. No baby! (cause it’s just a month or so after the wedding and that was one more deduction Sherlock got wrong). I’m not sure what will happen. Whether he will demand she turn herself in, or if there will be a fight between them.

ETA: since the birth announcement was placed in December (?) there is no way there can be a baby, unless they really are going for a full-on retcon.

Insane wish-fulfillment: John at Sherlock’s bedside. Confessions and the things he always meant to say, safe to say them now.

TFP: I have NO IDEA. Honestly. Where does this grey room business fit? Why is there a Moriarty on the beach? The boat, is that part of this? Sherlock’s hair is short. WHY? He wakes up and sees John’s new hair, so he has to ‘freshen up a bit’?

Blergh. This one has me completely skunnered and it’s just too nebulous to figure it out.

ETA: I feel like Moriarty will have to come back in mp. He’s come to Sherlock twice now, and as we all know, it always comes in threes. So there is one more to come. I’m not sure if that is what is happening on that beach, though? I really can’t figure this one out.

#sherlock #pre-s4 #predictions #gullible me #what a fool i was #what a wasted opportunity #mofftiss #you blockheads!

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inevitably-johnlocked · 7 years

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Hey Steph!! I'm so sorry if this has already been asked before, but do you have any recs for fics where John has adorable lovey dovey pet names for Sherlock??

Anonymous said to inevitably-johnlocked: Hello! I just want to ask if you know some fics where John calls Sherlock “love”? It’s just I’m craving for it right now and I need more. Thank you! You’re amazing.

Hi Nonnies!!

OKAY, I got the second Nonny’s ask MONTHS ago, and I started a list, but I’m just going to keep going if I don’t just post it, so here we are, gonna just post up what I have so far!! Lots more to come, hah! I have to go back over the ones I’ve already sorted LOL.

JOHN CALLS SHERLOCK “LOVE”

Let the Sun Fade Out by nothingislittle (E, 2,711 w. || Fluff & Smut, Praise Kink, PWP, Obsessed Sherlock, Bottomlock, Heart-Tearing Love) – “He could warm the sun itself, Sherlock thinks, could heat their flat with just his presence, could brighten the room with one dazzling smile or just the sparkling in his eyes. John is everything, he’s beautiful and he shines, he’s everything.”

What He’s Like by magikspell (E, 2,919 w. || Love Confessions, Fluff, First Time, Inexperienced Sherlock) – Realistic first time. They love each other so much.

Right Foot Red by Irrevocably_Sherlocked (E, 3,089 w. || First Time, Board Games, Frottage, Masturbation, Frottage, PWP) – …ok, it’s juvenile, but at least it’s a game where touching is allowed. And if something more were to happen, well, John can’t say he’d be too upset about that. “What are the rules of this game?” Sherlock asks, the disdain evident on the word ‘game’. “I spin, you do as I say.” John thinks he sees a slight widening of those pale grey eyes at that, just for a fraction of a second, before it is shut down. Oh, this is interesting, he thinks.

In Nomine by Atiki (E, 3,517 w. || Est. Rel., PWP, Anal, Domesticity, Love Confessions, Sherlock Loves John, Overwhelmed Sherlock) – “Alright?” John asks gently, planting a kiss on Sherlock’s left collar bone, smoothing a hand down his chest and belly until it rests in the soft trail of hair below his belly button. John’s smile is all soft and warm. His hand feels tender and solid and real. A soldier’s hand. A surgeon’s hand. A lover’s hand. Oh. “John”, Sherlock gasps. And that’s where it begins. Written for a prompt on the Kink Meme: The only word Sherlock says during sex is “John”.

Morning Sunlight by slashscribe (E, 3,565 w || PWP, Morning Sex, Fluff, PWP, Established Rel., Soft Idiots) – A thin band of soft morning light peeks between the curtains and stretches across John’s torso, laying dormant across his forearm, dipping into the space between his arm and his chest, illuminating his right nipple but just brushing the edge of his left, disappearing into his armpit, and reappearing again right over Sherlock’s eyes where his head rests, nestled against John’s shoulder. Sherlock is not annoyed by the light’s intrusion on his sleep, not when it rests so soft and tantalizing on John’s skin, a work of unintentionally erotic art. A PWP with so much emotion.

Rumpled by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 3,601 w. || Est. Rel., Insecure Sherlock, Fluff, PWP, Proposal, Bottomlock) – Then, halfway through a documentary on river otters that neither of them was paying attention to–how could John, with a gangly, limp consulting detective practically purring in his lap?–Sherlock suddenly bolted upright, looked at John with a perplexed expression and a crinkle above his nose, and blurted, “Marry me.” Part 4 of Longitudinal Cohort

Come home. by hudders-and-hiddles (huddersandhiddles) (E, 3,763 w. || Texting / Sexting, Lonely Sherlock, Nude Photos, Pining, Fluff & Smut) – When John leaves for a medical conference, Sherlock tries to entice him back home.

Happy anniversary by Salambo06 (E, 3,772 w. || Est. Rel., Vulnerable Sherlock, Wedding Anniversary, Anal, Texting, Lingerie) – John inhaled deeply, feeling his cock pulse under the silk gown, and he let his eyes travel on the lean body in front of him. Sherlock was kneeling on the bed, their bed, and the picture had been taken so John could perfectly see his bare chest and pelvis. But what mattered most, what made John harden rather quickly, was the pair of panties Sherlock was wearing in the picture. Black, string over each hip and laces that outlined Sherlock’s erect cock barely hidden under the soft underwear.

Love and Hair Dye by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 3,920 w. || Est. Rel., Body Worship, Self Conscious John, Voyeurism, Idiots in Love, Smutty Smut) – Self conscious John decides to cover the greys on his head, and the colour isn’t what he thought it would be. Now he’s more self-conscious than ever.

Forty-four by jamlockk (E, 4,415 w. || John’s Birthday, Fluff, PWP) – John turns forty-four, gets some advice and the best birthday present he could’ve ever hoped for.

all things warm and tender by darcylindbergh (E, 5,177 w. || PWP, Romantic Fluff, Rimming/Anal/BJ’s, Body Worship) – Grinning and giggling, John slides back down under the sheet and pulls it over his head. He finds Sherlock waiting for him, eyes bright and hair wild, the firelight bleeding through the thin fabric, colouring everything in soft peach and topaz, and in that moment he is so suddenly, unexpectedly, ethereally beautiful that John forgets how to breathe.

Better Than Fiction by Irrevocably_Sherlocked (E, 6,813 w. || Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Imagination, Masturbation, BJ’s, First Time / Kiss) – …he opens his eyes, but instead of seeing John he is staring at his bedroom ceiling, the pale plaster a startling contrast from the scene in his head. It had felt so real. He can only imagine what the feel of John’s lips would be like, his taste. But luckily for him, he thinks with a smirk, he’s always had a brilliant imagination.

EMERGENCY CONTACT: John Watson, RELATIONSHIP: Saint by blueink3 (M, 6,229 w. || Hurt Sherlock, 5+1, H/C) – The first time Sherlock Holmes realizes he needs an emergency contact is the first time he mentally appoints John Watson with the job. John, of course, does not know this and neither does the local hospital. Part 2 of The Emergency Contact Series

All the Flavours, Cherry and More by cwb (E, 6,274 w. || Est. Rel., Lip Gloss, Lingerie, Birthday Presents, Insecure Sherlock) – Sherlock feels a blush rising to touch his cheeks, more sensual than uncomfortable now that he knows John isn’t disgusted by him. No, John is responding exactly the way he had hoped.

Beg for Mercy (Twice) by Solitary_Endeavor (E, 7,060 w. || Est. Rel., Bottomlock, Bearded John, Edging, Rough Sex, Idiots in Love, Canon Compliant) – Sherlock hasn’t left the flat in four days, the itch of impatience beneath his skin too great to allow him to suffer interaction with any human being who isn’t John. This is probably a mercy that goes both ways, as he’s driving even himself mad. Sherlock supposes there is a lesson to be learned here about having himself to blame, but of course he blames Mycroft.

The T-Shirt Thief by allroadsleadbacktobakerstreet (T, 7,968 w. || Mutual Pining, Post Canon Fix It, Dev. Rel., First Kiss, Domestics) – Sherlock steals John’s t-shirt from the laundry. John catches him wearing it one evening, fluff ensues with an endeared yet teasing John?

Extraordinary by queenoftrivia (G, 2,860 w. || Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Morse Code, Est. Rel, Violins) – Sherlock’s deduced that John’s going to Italy to buy him a violin. Even the greatest detective alive makes a few mistakes.

Affirmation by jamlockk (E, 3,096 w. || First Time, Dev. Rel., PWP, Love Declarations, Emotional Sherlock, Comforting John, Gross Fluff) – “Sunlight dappled John’s skin, casting a glow across his spreadeagled form as he dozed among the rumpled sheets. Sherlock knew the expression on his face was hopelessly soft but for once did not care about showing his true feelings so openly. He simply stood there, in the doorway, gazing at the impossibly beautiful man currently snuffling softly in his slumber.” Part 8 of All the ways we love

Practical Johnkeeping by what_alchemy (M, 4,330 w. || Beekeeping, Aging, Gladstone, Tooth Rotting Fluff) – Sherlock predicts nectar flow the same way he deduces a murder, but he harvests the honey like John coddles the dog.

Abatement by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 6,816 w. || Est. Rel., Retirementlock, Fluff, Sherlock’s Self Esteem, Grumpy Sherlock) – “What’s wrong with you? You love the cottage,” John glances over to the passenger seat, then quickly turns his eyes back to the road. Driving was still not his forte, but considering Sherlock still couldn’t properly bend and lift his new knee enough to press and release the clutch, he had to make do. Not that Sherlock hadn’t tried to argue his way into the driver’s seat. “I love the cottage for a week or two, John. Don’t be deliberately obstuse,” Sherlock grumbles, sinking further in his seat. Well, as best he can with a four-week-old knee replacement. “And that’s all we’re going for, love,” John says out loud. But what he’s thinking is, shit. He knows.

With This Ring by Quesarasara (E, 9,121 w. || Est. Rel., Marriage Proposal, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Embarrassing Hospital Visits) – Sometimes even the best of plans go wrong. And sometimes wrong turns out to be exactly right.

Of Course I Forgive You by allonsys_girl (E, 10,735 w. || Love Confessions, Canon Divergence, First Time, Frottage, Wall Sex, Infidelity) – What if things had gone differently on that train car?

The Red Dianthus by kinklock (T, 11,382 w. || Halloween, Supernatural Elements, BAMF!John, Dev. Rel.) – The boys investigate a mysterious disappearance in a supposedly haunted house, and get much more than they bargained for.

The Slow Burn by CaitlinFairchild (E, 12,097 w. | Romance, Emotional Infidelity, Friends to Lovers}} – John smiles, something small and private and for him alone, and Sherlock just…he knows. With a heart-stopping certainty, Sherlock suddenly knows.It feels like falling off the edge of a cliff. It feels like falling off the edge of the world. It feels like flying.

All the Girls Love a Soldier by Book7BrokeMyBrain (E, 12,951 w. || Military Kink, Frottage, Domesticity, Post S3, Pining Sherlock, Kilt John, Wedding, Dancing) – John is invited to a stag party and a wedding. The related accoutrement suit Sherlock to a T.

Back to the Start by slashscribe (M, 14,088 w. || Sherlock’s Violin, Pining Idiots, Fluff, Domestics) – Sherlock hasn’t played the violin since John’s wedding (which is long since over), and when John returns to 221B, Sherlock relearns the violin as he and John relearn each other. Post S3 fic with an obscene amount of pining, idiocy, and attempts to pawn off tea duties.

Your Eyes in Darkness Glowing by tamed_untranslatable (E, 14,686 w. || Est. Rel., Case Fic, Hotel Sex, Bottomlock, Anal, BJ’s, Porn With Feelings, Homophobia) – Sherlock gets roped into a case in Moscow on his brother’s insistence, but finds that he can’t do it without John.

In A Changing Age by allonsys_girl (E, 15,590 w. || Victorian AU, Virgin / Demi Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Mild H/C) – Sherlock wakes up in the 19th century, with no idea how he got there.

I Will Take Care Of You by SailorChibi (T, 16,664 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Sick Sherlock, BAMF John, BAMF Lestrade, Reunion Fic) – Two years after Sherlock’s death, John comes to find him on the sofa. Wounded and ill, Sherlock is convinced he’s hallucinating and refuses to share any details about Moran or the fact that Mycroft has been compromised. That doesn’t stop John from stepping up and taking care of the last of Moriarty’s web, BAMF-style.

A Hundred Thousand Ways to Say the Name John by Jberry (E, 16,825 w. || Fake Relationship, Fake Marriage, POV John, Pining John, Cruise Ship, Angst & Fluff, Case Fit) – John Watson and Sherlock Holmes must solve a case on a cruise ship. To get close to the crew and passengers, they must get married for the case on the Baetica. However, their relationship hits rocky seas both due to the case and internal conflicts. Part 1 of Baetica

For you, there’s only me by shock_blanket (E, 19,557 w. || Jealous Idiots, Virgin Sherlock, UST/RST, Pining, Miscommunication, First Kiss / Time, Insecure Sherlock, Masturbation) – Sherlock realizes he has fallen in love with John, but believes he is unlovable. Cue lots of pining and jealousy on Sherlock’s part, followed by our favorite cuddly marksman making it all better. Because for Sherlock, there’s only John.

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – Written for this prompt on the kinkmeme: ‘John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.’

“finally kiss the bloody idiot” by Salambo06 (E, 29,812 w. || Mutual Pining, Fake Relationship, First Kiss / Time, Angst, Misunderstandings, Fantasies POV John) – Inspired by a fic idea on tumblr : “John and Sherlock know the Yard has a pool going for when they’re finally going to get together. It’s been running forever, and it’s worth thousands of pounds. It’s all fun and games, hahaha, until they find out Lestrade is in dire financial straits (dog needs emergency surgery, he’s putting his kid through gymnastics training, I don’t know, something), and they decide to fake a relationship to win the pool for him. Sherlock figures out the day and way that Lestrade thinks it’s going to happen, and they act it out. It’s all for a good cause, fake relationship style, until it’s not.” Part 1 of The Pool

Where Else Would I Be? by cwb (E, 34,910 w. || Retirementlock, Domestic Fluff, Falling in Love, Parentlock, Fluff and Smut, Reminiscing) – John and Sherlock’s five-year-old granddaughter spends the weekend with them in Sussex. Sherlock happily indulges her whims, and John takes care of them while quietly revisiting the past thirty years of their lives together.

Albion and the Woodsman by Glenmore (NR, 54,437 w. || Post S3 || Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst, Family, Drug Use, Depression, Sherlock POV) – Sherlock and John are devastated after Mary Morstan makes her final moves. Sherlock relapses at the crack house, John walks around the world … and a lot happens in between. Parentlock, in the good way.

Bleed Me Out by antietamfalls (E, 87,987 w. || Vampire AU || Bonding, Vampire Sherlock, Fluff & Angst, H/C, John Whump, Magical Realism) – John isn’t exactly surprised to discover that Sherlock isn’t human. His vampirism doesn’t pose a problem, even when their relationship gradually grows into something more. That is, until a deadly revelation about John’s blood sends their lives spinning dangerously out of control.

OTHER PET NAMES

Unwanted by 221b_hound (T, 2,436 w. || Est. Rel., Wedding Rings, Asshole Exes) – In the jewellers to collect their wedding rings ahead of the Big Day, an old friend of John’s spots him. Well. I say ‘friend’.Sherlock isn’t jealous. He’s possibly a little bit grateful. That doesn’t mean Lydia Templeton isn’t an idiot. Part 19 of Unkissed

Unwrapped by 221b_hound (E, 3,022 w. || Christmas, Fluff, Oral Sex, Feet and Toes, Tow Fetish, Pet Names, Licking) – It’s Christmas morning. John doesn’t really want the Christmas Sex that Sherlock proposes and explains the reasons why. Sherlock discovers a new element of how his desire functions, and later John gets to indulge his foot fetish. Part 8 of Unkissed

And as the seasons change, I love you more by Teatrolley (NR, 3,219 w. || Fluff and Angst, Est. Rel., Marriage / Proposal) – A year in the lives of John and Sherlock, essentially.

Unmissed by 221b_hound (M, 3,235 w. || Est. Rel., Pet Names, Insecure Sherlock, Worried Sherlock) – John enjoys a good brawl during a case, and Sherlock begins to worry - when they retire, will John get bored? Will John get bored and leave. But even if John isn’t a genius about cases, he knows a thing or two about Sherlock’s panic attacks about them as a couple. With only four days till the wedding, he’s not about to let Sherlock continue with this misplaced notion that John will be bored in retirement. Part 20 of Unkissed

Posh Boy by panickedbee (M, 3,622 w. || Kinks, RST, Pining, Sexual Frustation) – In his head he greets him with hey, handsome in the morning, calls him genius when he is being too clever again, calls him pretty man and silly git and sweetheart and, of course, posh boy. Part 5 of Sherlock Holmes Is A Very Lucky Man

Of Course I Forgive You by allonsys_girl (E, 10,735 w. || Love Confessions, Canon Divergence, First Time, Frottage, Wall Sex, Infidelity) – What if things had gone differently on that train car?

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #pet names #john loves sherlock #Anonymous #john says love

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