#I WANT A JOHN WATSON JUMPER

[topsyturvy-turtely]

out of context but JOHN IN HIS CHRISTMAS JUMPER>>>>>>

[calaisreno]

Let Me Have This

1554 words / Prompt: Do-Over

She’s determined to take it all away from him. Every damn thing. All the little things. 

He wonders why he didn’t notice it happening. The little smirks when she reads his blog. The comments when he mentions Sherlock, insignificant but biting. It’s been systematic, and he’s let it happen. 

None of it seemed worth arguing about. When he met her, he’d already mourned and tried so many times to put it away, to think of it as something that he would endure. Something terrible, but that’s how life is, the good and the bad, and you still have to go on living. He survived.

So he hadn’t argued; that would have taken too much energy, and he never had enough of that in those days. 

She’d been wonderful, really, at the beginning. She’d gone to the grave with him, stood by him, let him mourn. She’d been patient, lovingly patient, urging him back into life. 

“Are you never going to eat Thai food again?” she would ask. 

Or: “Why do you keep this old jumper with the burn holes? It’s unwearable.” 

Or: “We don’t need to take the newspaper. You can read it online.”

And gradually, she had replaced every damn thing with a new thing. New jumpers, Korean food. A different brand of tea. Romantic films. Different news programs. 

Even his old, stained mug. “It was chipped,” she said.

None of it was unreasonable, taken as individual actions. But all together it made his old life seem flawed, as if he hadn’t done anything right until he met her. 

He did notice. But he’d thought she was something good in his life, a new beginning, a person who knew what she wanted. It was flattering to be pursued. 

Every relationship requires a partner who gives in, who is the more reasonable one, the one who lets things go. He saw that in his parents, his mother headstrong and insistent, his father calm and accepting. Yes, dear.

That was how they were, before. Sherlock led, John followed. Sherlock had strops and broke crockery and said awful things sometimes, and John smoothed it all over. Or when he finally couldn’t, he would have his own strop, tell Sherlock to stop— 

You machine. 

He hadn’t seen that coming, either. His role was reining Sherlock in, pulling him back from the edge. That’s what he’d thought was happening. As it turns out, he was wrong. 

Maybe that’s why he can’t be the one to say, Stop it. Let me have this.

He doesn’t deserve a life now because he didn’t protect Sherlock when it really mattered. He let him go over the edge, fall—

Mary is a do-over. He was punishing himself, and she appeared, offering him a chance at something better. Letting himself be loved, cared for. She’s competent, not nostalgic. 

It’s an insidious trap, a carefully laid one. Where she could have let him mourn, let him remember who he was when he loved Sherlock— she has tried to reshape all his memories. Sherlock was a child, she seems to say; you were a fool to make yourself responsible for him. He had you under his thumb because he really was a sociopath. He didn’t care about you. He didn’t love you. I’m the best thing that could have happened to you.

And now, she’s taken the last thing. 

I like him. She said that in the cab, coming home. Home, to the flat she picked out and decorated, where there isn’t even one tiny piece of John Watson. 

She’d seen his anger, his grief. She’d been outraged, on his behalf. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to him? His anger was right. She’d affirmed it.

But afterwards she smiled like the cat who got the cream. As if it had all gone according to plan. She likes Sherlock. She’s going to talk him around. And once again, John will be the unreasonable one. 

And he sees how it will go. She’ll take credit for bringing them back together. It will be the three of them now. And of the two of them, Sherlock will find Mary the more interesting one, the one who really gets him. They will bond, and John will be the one they joke about. The third wheel. Poor John. He can see her tagging along on cases, texting Sherlock, giggling with him about private jokes. 

She’ll let him have Sherlock, as long as it’s clear that she owns John now. 

Let me have this. 

If he wants it, he’s going to have to take it back. He’s going to have to say no to Mary, if he wants Sherlock back. He’s still angry, but now that he sees what’s happening, he can’t unsee it. He’ll never be happy in the life she’s prepared for him, free from all the clutter and disarray of life with Sherlock. She’ll keep him in their tidy flat and let him out to go play with Sherlock. And if he ever starts to crave that life again, she’ll find a way to separate him from it. 

It’s after midnight and he’s standing outside of 221B. He’s already mentally rehearsed several versions of an apology when his phone buzzes. 

Are you coming up? SH

He smiles. 

Oscillation on the pavement. An affaire de coeur? SH

Sherlock still signs his texts, and this is oddly comforting. At least something hasn’t changed. 

Climbing the stairs, he thinks about the last time he went out and closed the door behind him, never to return. He’s been back once to see Mrs Hudson, but never up these stairs. 

The door is open, and he stands on the threshold, taking in everything that two years haven’t changed. The flat looks just as it did on the last day he stood here. It’s like time travel. 

But he’s still Future John, the one who grieved, who hit his best friend when he returned as John had begged him to do. The one with regrets.

And Sherlock is different too. He stands at the window, looking down at the street as if he’s expecting someone. His posture is taut, careful.

“I hope… I’m not intruding.”

Sherlock turns and faces him. The split lip has healed, but there is caution in those grey eyes. John never wants to see that look again, not directed at him. 

“Come in, John.”

He does, glancing at his old chair, then staring at his own feet, words having deserted him. Sherlock gestures for him to sit, but he feels like a guest in what used to be his home, and it’s painful. He remains standing.

“Something is wrong,” Sherlock says. “You’ve quarrelled with Mary.”

“No.” He closes his eyes. “She’s fine. It’s me. I’ve made a mistake.”

Sherlock steps closer, cocking his head and silently deducing him. “A mistake?”

I’ve proposed to a woman I don’t know because I couldn’t go on without you. I hit my best friend because I couldn’t bear…

He looks up at Sherlock, tears filling his eyes. “Can you forgive me?”

The look on Sherlock’s face is surprise. “John, you need not apologise. If there is to be an apology, it should come from me. I should not have approached you as I did.”

“Can we… just…” He sniffs. “Could we pretend that the last few days haven’t happened yet? You’re back, and I’m—”

“You’re asking for… I believe it’s called a do over?”

He laughs through his tears. “Yes, that’s what I want.”

Sherlock smiles. “Where do we begin?”

“Let’s say I’m not at dinner, not proposing to Mary. You’re not wearing a silly fake moustache—”

“You’ve shaved yours off.”

“Yeah, you were right. So. I don’t have a moustache, and I’ve come over to have a look up here, because… I’m about to take a step that feels irrevocable, one I wouldn’t be taking if you were alive.”

Now Sherlock looks puzzled, but he doesn’t speak. 

“My therapist has been bugging me to say something… to you. Something I wished I’d said… before. And I couldn’t say after. But I need to say now.”

Lips parted, Sherlock is frowning. “Say… what?”

He closes his eyes. “You were the best. The best person I’ve known. The best friend. You saved my life, gave meaning to what was left of it. And I… I love you. I don’t care that you were married to your work, or that you despise sentiment. I love you, and I wish I’d said it before.”

Laying a hand on Sherlock’s heart, he feels it beating, alive. “I want to come back. Come home. Live with you.”

“But… Mary?”

“A mistake. And you’ve just given me the impossible. The thing I asked for. Please, will you forgive me?”

Sherlock is silent. He stares over John’s shoulder, blinking as if that genius brain has gone offline. 

“Sherlock?”

The pale eyes focus on him. “You want to come home? Here? You love me?”

“Yes. I know you don’t—”

“Just to be clear, when you say love —”

John puts his arms around him. “This.”

As he looks up, expecting to see Sherlock frowning, the most extraordinary thing happens. 

There are tears in Sherlock’s eyes, and he’s about to—

When the kiss ends, Sherlock holds him pressed against his chest. “Just to be clear,” he says. “I love you too.”

--

Posted on AO3 here.

[strawberrywinter4]

Five Favorite Fics I’ve Written:

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤

Thank you for the tag @naefelldaurk :) Here are my favorites that I’ve written (no particular order).

A Lovely Day in London (Johnlock. G, 2,408)

A 101 Dalmatian AU. Like the movie, it’s from Sherlock’s dog, Hugo’s, point of view. He decides Sherlock is in need of a companion since he’s noticed his owner’s loneliness and constant, unhealthy investment in his work. Hugo spots John Watson and his dog enjoying a walk along the street, and an idea comes to mind.

This is one of my favorites because I love the original film and this was a lot of fun to write. Also, this took a lot of time to put together since I wanted to get it as accurate and in character as possible. I liked how it turned out :)

Pick and Choose (Johnlock. M, 2,861)

John tries out speed dating, hoping to find a decent date. The only problem is, Sherlock arrives unexpectedly, striving to deduce all of John's potential lovers. Frustration on John's part is evident. And longing for the detective, but of course, John won't admit that.

This turned out a lot better than I thought it would. Even when I was proof-reading it, I made myself chuckle in some moments. This is from my Tumblr prompt list.

Melodies in the Dark (Lokius. E, 40,594)

A Rock Star AU. Rising rock star, Loki Laufeyson, is having difficulty keeping his reputation in check. His manager hires him one of the industry's most wanted agents, Mobius. M. Mobius. Loki is displeased by this arrangement and does everything he can to change this nonchalant man's mind about being his agent. However, Loki is struck with a growing attraction to the agent in this process. To his secret enjoyment, Mobius seems to be experiencing the same feelings.

Yes, this fic is still in the works, but it’s one of my favorites so far. I’m liking where it’s going and I only have five more chapters until I’ve finished it! So I’m really excited.

Beyond the Bay (Johnlock. E, 25,697)

Recently retired police officer, John Watson, stumbles upon an odd man named Sherlock Holmes when traveling by train on his way home. He concludes the detective is insane after having only one conversation with him, but can't help but be intrigued. Ignoring John's hesitance, Sherlock brings him along on an exciting case. Through this adventure, Sherlock doesn't bother to hide his palpable obsession with John while John tries to hide his growing feelings. What will happen when they both break, following their desires?

This was a blast to write, oh my goodness. I loved where this story took place and I loved the dynamic I established between these two. In the future, a second part is to come.

Unleash (Johnlock. M, 6,375)

Sherlock gets himself into a dangerous predicament, and John realizes how far he'd go for Sherlock Holmes, to protect him and keep him safe.

This was a deep-dive into John’s character and how one shouldn’t be fooled by his soft jumpers and friendly smile. I loved writing this.

Tagging: @totallysilvergirl @weeesi @lisbeth-kk

[topsyturvy-turtely]

an almost whisper

prompt "whisper" by @onesmallfamily

highly inspired by this gif by @phoenix27884:

a/n: hey! i wanted to at least do ONE prompt of the 30 day sherlock september challenge. here is my ficlet of yesterday, because seriously- i fell asleep while writing it 😅

ps: so sorry bout the no uppercase letters, as said i was very tired for half of this (and lazy for the second)

○◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠○

sherlock was sitting across from him. from john watson. what a gorgeous man he was. gray silky hair - combed back, a dark blue jumper that looked ridiculously endearing on him... his doctor hadn't had time to shave this morning and sherlock was currently trying to gauge how many colour shades you could see in john's beard. one, two, three...

the beard moved. well not the beard itself but the lips that sat between the beard.

what would it feel like to-

"sherlock, did you hear me?"

the asked man raised his eyebrows. had he heard him? "still caught up on the case, i fear."

"you solved it. what's there to think about?"

his john. asking just the right questions. unfortunately they were rather uncomfortable right this moment, considering sherlock had been thinking about and staring at john's facial hair...

topic change. "how was dinner?"

"delicious. pity you didn't have any."

"eating..."

"... slows you down, i know, i know.", john said, but there was an amused grin on his lips. for some reason sherlock had to look away to catch himself. john smiling at him like that, it did something to him. something that hits way further inside than just into his heart.

he sensed john leaning back and stretching his face up to the sun. sherlock simply had to turn his gaze back onto him. the sun highlighted the few blond strands left and the red undertone in john's beard... it accentuated the wrinkles, that sherlock loved, because they reflect just how real john is. the detective then realized he was staring again and looked away. pretending to focus on the people around him, maybe deducing them. in reality every sense was directed at john. he heard him move, sensed his body being closer to his, smelt a hint of the coffee john had drunk, saw him putting his chin into his hand out of the corner of his eye.

he felt john staring now. sherlock decided it was safe to glare back at him. and was swept off his feet, well he was sitting, but he was still overwhelmed by john's expression. there was so much adoration, fascination and out of a lack of better words - love in his eyes.

sherlock had to smile back at him. he felt his face getting hotter. john - without saying a word - made him feel special.

john's gaze never left his and then exclaimed, barely above a whisper, "i'd like to kiss you." it was out of the blue, but it felt like the perfect timing.

what happened next felt natural, like they were actors who were acting according to a script: sherlock stood up leaned over the small table and placed his lips on john's.

the kiss was over soon, but they both knew it was just the first of uncountables.

a smile, a hand sneaking into his, looks speaking more than words.

on that day just like that, with that tiny almost-whisper and their promising first kiss they stopped being augend and addend and began being a sum.

○◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠◡◠○

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

[arkytiorwrites]

Never Again

Sherlock Holmes x Reader x John Watson

My first BBC Sherlock post, and of course it’s a poly. Because who wouldn’t want them both?

I crept up the stairs to the flat of my boyfriends as silently as I could; not wanting to summon their landlady, Mrs. Hudson. I liked the older woman a lot, but I wasn't in the mood for her now. Right now I needed John's tea and Sherlock's hugs if they were home.

Unlocking the door to the flat , it was quickly obvious that they were out. Their coats were gone and the flat was silent. I left my backpack, coat, and shoes in a pile under the coat rack and curled up in John's chair, pulling on the jumper discarded on the armrest.

God I was so tired.

I sleepily nuzzled the shoulder for the jumper and inhaled as much of John’s scent that I could. He smelled like maple wood, hot sand, and a dash of whiskey. It always reminded me of his silent strength somehow. That John would always be there.

I was unable to continue waxing poetic because I was asleep after a few minutes.

. . .

Sherlock followed John up the stairs home in what John liked to call a 'strop’. Lestrade had called them both away from Baker Street for a case that hadn’t even been a four! Sherlock was even stroppier than normal because their wonderful partner, Y/N, would be coming home from their visit to America today and they both had wanted to be there to welcome them back. Instead, they were probably already back and had come home to a cold, empty flat. Sherlock nearly crashed into John where he had frozen in the doorway.

"John, what are you -"

" Sh!" the doctor scolded, reaching back and swatting vaguely at the lanky detective.

Looking over John, he finally saw what had caused his lover to try and shush him. Y/N had curled up and fallen asleep in John's armchair, but if that wasn't adorable enough, they had put on the dark blue jumper John had discarded earlier that afternoon.

The two men tiptoed toward their love, John crouching down in front and Sherlock kneeling at their feet.

" Baby? Wake up sweetheart," John softly urged.

Shifting a bit and letting out a soft kitten mewl, Y/N’s eyes fluttered and lit up the moment they saw the doctor.

"John?” they asked softly.

"Hi, love," he smiled reaching out and gently brushing their cheek.

They gave the ash-blond man a sleepy smile before looking around the room until they spotted the detective.

"Sherlock?"

"Hello, darling," he murmured, reaching out and gently rubbing their calf in a rare show of affection.

They yawned cutely before asking, "How was the case?"

"It wasn't even a four," Sherlock sniffed, standing and taking off his coat and scarf, hanging them on the coat rack.

"Which never a good thing for Greg,” John sighed standing as well.

"Tea?" he offered as the tempemental detective aggressively flopped onto the couch.

"If you don't mind," Y/N mumbled sleepily sitting up and rubbing their eyes.

John leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his partner's forchread before going to the kitchen.

Y/N stood from the doctors chair and shuffled over to the couch, where Sherlock sat in one of his many thinking poses. At Y/N’s approach, however, he held out an arm in clear invitation and the young American happily snuggled into his side. Sherlock tugged them closer and rested his cheek on their head.

"How was Oregon?" he asked quietly.

“Wet, windy, cold. The usual," they quipped.

"You know what I meant,” the brunet scolded.

"Not any different then when I left three years ago. Hannah’s got herself a contract. Rosemary and the other's are still at home. Mom and Dad haven’t changed theyre just a bit grayer now,” Y/N shrugged. "But I'd forgotten how beautiful it is in spring over there."

Sherlock hummed noncommittally before the two lapsed into a comfortable silence.

A few minutes later, John emerged from the kitchen with two mugs of tea. He doled them out accordingly, giving the loves of his life a kiss each before going back for his own own. He came back and sat on Y/N’s unoccupied side, the three of them happy together.

"You are not allowed to leave us for that long ever again,” Sherlock announced just as Y/N was beginning to drift off again.

“I was only gone for two weeks,” they mumbled, confused.

"Exactly. Far too long," John agreed, nodding seriously.

Y/N playfully groaned as they said, "Of course, I would somehow and up with the most clingy boyfriends in all of the UK."

“You love us, " Sherlock snorted.

“Yeah," they agreed, happily snuggling into the self proclaimed sociopath’s shoulder. "I do."

[lisbeth-kk]

May 12 prompt: blue. (Thanks for the tag @notjustamum @calaisreno

Bluebell

When Rosie Watson was old enough to decide which clothes to buy or wear, she always chose Sherlock’s favourite colour. Not that she knew it, but she was somehow drawn to it, nevertheless. Dresses, jumpers, t-shirts, trousers, skirts, jackets, even socks gifted in the wrong colour had to be brought back to the shop and changed. She could go along with the other colours if there were bees on the fabric, which Molly tried her best to find as to brighten up the little girl’s wardrobe.

Sherlock loved to see all the different shades of blue on his little girl. It made her eyes look even more blue than they originally were. He also liked to see his John in blue. John and Rosie’s eyes were so similar, although Rosie’s were a tiny bit lighter than John’s. 

Sherlock never stopped using his chosen pet name on Rosie. John had prepared him that once she started school, or at least in her teens, she would oppose him to use the pet name further. To John’s astonishment and Sherlock’s relief, it never happened. Rosie loved that her Papa called her Bluebell and occasionally Bee, but mostly it was the former.

***

John feared for Sherlock’s sanity when Rosie told them she was going abroad for her studies. He was careful not to show his distress to Rosie herself, but whenever he and John were alone at Baker Street in those days, he suffered terribly.

“What if she never comes back to England, John. Sydney’s so far away. She’s going to forget us, isn’t she? I don’t want her to go, John! I know I’m being foolish, but to not have her here regularly is an unbearable thought. She…”

“Shush now, my love,” John had murmured, holding Sherlock tight while stroking his hair. “I know it’s hard for you. It is for me too, but we have to let her go. Let her form her own life. We can’t keep her locked up here forever. And of course she won’t forget us, silly. We’re her parents, and you know she loves us. She shows us that every day, doesn’t she?”

“I know, John. I know, but it’s so hard. The hardest thing I’ve ever done. Well…almost.”

Sherlock had buried his face in John’s neck and cried. It was a rare occurrence that Sherlock broke down like this, and John had a hard time preventing his own tears from welling over. He held his husband, soothed him, murmuring sweet words and reassurances in his ear, and finally Sherlock had gathered himself. His eyes were red rimmed, and John kissed away the tears on his cheeks.

“We’ll go visit her, you know,” John said, and Sherlock nodded.

“Of course. If she…”

“Sherlock, please. She’ll want us to come visit. You know that.”

“Yes, John. It’s just…when it comes to the two of you. The thought of losing…”

“I know, sweetheart. We feel the same way. That’s what undying love does to you,” John said and kissed Sherlock tenderly.

***

As Rosie’s departure came closer, Sherlock had been less fragile. When there wasn’t a case or experiment to devote his time to, he read all about Rosie’s university, and the city itself. Afterwards he knew more about the subject than Rosie herself, which surprised no one.

“It looks really promising, Bluebell,” Sherlock stated over dinner a few weeks before Rosie’s exodus, as Sherlock called it. “You’ll like it there, I think.”

“I’m sure I will, Papa. Sylvia knows a couple of students there, and they’re over the moon,” Rosie retorted and extended a hand to squeeze Sherlock’s hand.

John had to blink hard and bite his inner cheek not to burst into tears when he saw their daughter soothing Sherlock. She was so aware of his emotions. A Watson thing, John thought to himself and smiled at his beloved husband who cocked an eye brow at him, silently asking, “you alright?” John just nudged his foot reassuring him, and Sherlock went back to the conversation with his Bluebell.

***

A serious amount of tears were spilled at Heathrow airport when Rosie clung to her parents, suddenly realising that she wouldn’t be able to hug them for months. John was a mess to, and it was in situations like these, Sherlock found his aptitude to be strong for all of them. He murmured soothing words to them both, wrapping them up in his arms, letting them cry, while he kissed them tenderly.

“Be in touch as often as you see fit, Bee,” Sherlock said softly while cradling Rosie’s face. “I won’t hesitate to call in a favour from uncle Myc if necessary.”

Rosie beamed up at her Papa with blurry eyes and smiled, then giggled as she pictured her uncle receiving said call.

After one last group hug, Rosie walked away from them to her future. John grabbed Sherlock’s hand tight and when Rosie had disappeared in the crowd, Sherlock pulled a shaky John to his chest and kissed the top of his head.

“She’ll be fine, John. She’s a Watson, after all.”

“A Holmes Watson in fact,” John said, lifted his head and kissed Sherlock’s lips.

@totallysilvergirl @missdeliadili @meetinginsamarra @topsyturvy-turtely @raina-at

[helloliriels]

HELLO POETRY MASTERLIST

BBC Sherlock/Johnlock poetry by @helloliriels

📃 One Thousand and One (Words on the Tip of My Tongue) :: John is processing his grief after the Fall ...

☕ Starstruck :: It seems John has replaced Sherlock's knowledge of the Solar System ...

📃 I Fight the Need :: each time you leave, i bite back 'stay' ...

☕ Moving On :: The Empty Hearse Heart

📃 The Cranberry Jumper on John Hamish Watson :: a jumper so fine!

☕ I'm Drowning (And I Thought You Knew) :: The Lying Blogger ...

📃 RED :: it's an ink that will stain everywhere i wrote your name: on my heart, in my head, on the blog i wrote instead ...

☕ A Million Things You Don't Do :: Sherlock is fed up with the things John Watson doesn't do ...

📃 Empty Hearse :: They say you were a picture of agony; When they pulled you from my side ... [🎧]

☕ Undo Me :: this might be Sherlock's undoing ...

📃 The Next Time We Say Goodbye :: John is tired of being left ...

☕ He Smiles :: a haiku series following @7-percent 's fic Exposition - An Ex-Files Special chapter-by-chapter as I read ...

📃 Welcome to London :: There is a detective out there somewhere ... [🎧]

☕ Coffee, and then Coffee :: and still here i sip tea ... [🎧podfic available ]

📃 ... But I Can't Have Him :: and more the fool, me ...

☕ I Want to Love Him in the Sunlight :: a poetry re-mix of Clueda's Juxtaposition Ch. 42 ...

📃 Boxing Day :: John & Rosie accept Sherlock's invitation ...

☕ But I Can't :: a sherlocked re-write of W.H. Auden's poem ...

📃 You Speak and World's Awaken :: John in awe of how many ways Sherlock says his name ...

☕ Without a Clue :: I thought I knew what made them tick ...

📃 Somebody's Someone :: reconsidering 'Married to his work' ...

☕ 2-B-1 :: One heart, one mind, the perfect pair ...

📃 Third is Last Place :: So when it came (my time or yours?); (One life) (I had to choose...); I hope you know (he needs you more); That I would always lose ...

☕ This Ending :: It is what it is (and what it is is shit).

📃 Endgame :: In this game of one and two ... There is no room for three ...

☕ Your Orbit :: John will always be drawn to Sherlock ...

📃 Invisible Man :: a sherlocked re-write Claude McKay's poem ... [🎧]

☕ We'll Go No More A-Sleuthing :: a sherlocked re-write of William Ernest Henley's poem ...

📃 Distractions :: Sherlock needs to solve this case, tonight preferably ...

☕ Sherlock is LIT :: a series of blackout poems made from pages of classic lit (a.k.a. finding Sherlock between the lines). I'm especially proud of THE FALL: taken from a page in Alice in Wonderland ... can you guess which? 😏

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

The HELLO POETRY collection on AO3 [🎧if podfic avail.]

[eggcompany]

John Watson and pair of pale hands

John Watson can't keep a relationship. So how does he manage to go through heat after months and months of being on suppressants? Easy, he doesn't. Enter: Omega Sherlock Holmes, touch starved, and very willing to share some affection.

“John I’ve found a- John what’re you doing?” Sherlock said as he burst through his flatmates door.

John was sat up against pillows on his bed with only an old tattered jumper on. He had one arm stretched uncomfortable between his legs and his strain was obvious. The air around him smelled of sour water and old sneakers not his usual clean, sweat, and laundry detergent scent.

“I’m a omega Sherlock, I’m having a small heat. Please go away I’m having a hard time.” John said in a panted pained voice. He was sweating profusely and had his eyes scrunched shut.

Sherlock though... Sherlock changed completely. His eyes got wide and concerned and his mouth formed a small O shape as quiet coos started to flow, his hands twitched toward the other man.

“I wanna help... John. John, I wanna help. Lemme help.” Sherlock said in a voice small and sweet. That’s when John smelled it. Heard it.

John stopped his motion and cracked one of his eyes open to look at the pale lanky man in the doorway.

“Sherlock... why do you want to help?” John said carefully. He needed Sherlock to say it.

“I-I-I... John I have urges too...” Sherlock said and kept his eyes flashing from point to point on John’s body. Sherlock was radiating such a scent that it forced John to relax a bit. Feel a bit calmer.

“John god dammit lemme help! I wanna help!” Sherlock shouted and stepped closer until he was stood at the edge of John’s bed. The smell was so strong to John now.

“Sherlock... okay. Okay. Just just...” John said and grabbed at Sherlock. Sherlock bent down and started rubbing John’s back and cooing louder and making small kissing noises.

John was shaking from just finally being comforted. He had been on suppressants for so long and without a heat partner. He felt so wound up and relaxed at the same time he felt like exploding.

“Shhhh John. Shhhhh let me. Let me help. Look look skin.” Sherlock said as he pulled both his shirt and wiggle out of his own trousers. John automatically latched on and started to rub his chest and arms against Sherlock. Anywhere that was exposed. Sherlock pulled off John’s sweater and just started to share contact.

“Nee-need m-mo-more” John stuttered out and started to rub his leaky bottom against the bed. He felt so much better already having someone touch him but also he needed more he needed to have a knot. He was nearly able to take his fake knot when Sherlock burst in.

“Okay... John John present. I know you wanna do it, don’t worry I’ll be careful.” Sherlock said and moved John into the position. John was malleable like clay in the younger mans hands.

Now John with his ass in the air because of bent knees and his face in the pillows and his arms outstretched in front of him he looked like a snack any alpha would want to eat up. Sherlock however just wanted to roll around naked with him. Feel his skin on his and maybe lick his face.

Sherlock grabbed up the still warm slick pink knotting toy and gently circled John’s pretty pink hole that was gushing out slick. John was practically purring as Sherlock ran his other hand up and down John’s thighs and sides.

When Sherlock leaned down started to rub his face across John’s lower back and butt he slipped the toy all the way to the plump knot.

John spread his knees more and arched his back and Sherlock moved so he could continue to rub his face and neck on John while both hands rubbed and bobbed at John’s hole.

One hand bobbed the toy in and out and the other rubbed and massaged the puffy outer ring.

Sherlock was over the moon in this moment. Someone was touching him. And he was touching someone. And they were HAPPY! He was cooing and smiling and scenting out a bubblegum sweet scent that had John slicking up enough for Sherlock to slip in two fingers beside the shaft of the toy.

John let out a loud keen when Sherlock took his fingers away. He smelled so cottony warm but also spicy in a way like pancakes with cinnamon or a cup of spiced hot chocolate wrapped in a cozy quilt.

“Knot me! I want a knot! Give me the knot!” John whined out as he pushed his arse higher in the air. He gushed out a big glob of slick and Sherlock pressed until the knot slinked through the muscle and sat happily in John’s ass.

John was trembling all over so Sherlock just started to pet with his slick sticky hands all over John’s body. He rubbed John’s chest and perked up nipples and his squishy scent glands.

Eventually John stopped shaking so badly and Sherlock pulled him into a cuddle of course being the big spoon to the short man.

About two hours pass before John needs another round. And then Sherlock learns that third round heating John Watson is a kisser. A damn good one at that. And fifth round day two of heat John Watson? Crier. And end of heat final round Doctor John Watson? Confident. Sure of himself. Very very very hot.

[fanfic-recs-01]

Johnlock Fics

This is a list of John Watson/Sherlock Holmes fics I like on AO3, if you have any recs for me feel free to send me some!

Updated 8/13/23

Relationship Reveal 

Yarders Find Out by MidnightMonster

~How the yarders or more specifically Greg gets to know about Sherlock's soldier husband, John Watson who had been in Afghanistan for a little bit more than two and a half years.~

Can't Be His Boyfriend by sorrowsofyore

~In which Sherlock has himself a doctor and Lestrade is just befuddled by it all.~

Secret acquaintances by whokilledholofernes

~Sherlock rushes from the crime scene after receiving a text. That leaves Detective Inspector Lestrade behind with the question: What is Sherlock hiding?~

(un)remarkable by intrinsicness 

~Basically I want a fic where John is like this nice but seemingly boring guy who you've known for years but never really bothered to get to know much about because it's obvious that nothing interesting ever happens to him. In reality though his life is fascinating.~

A Study In Partners by LonelyThursday 

~Sherlock and John met years before ASiP, but nobody told the Yard that~

The Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers by rhelia

~Alternate Universe where John and Sherlock were flatmates (and boyfriends) even before John enlisted, leading to one very surprised policeman.~

This is my friend, John Watson by SeamsInLine

~where Sherlock is married and the Yard doesn't even notice.~

Outed By a Drugs Bust by Inactive Account (sassybleu)

~Sherlock and John are together-but no one else knows that. The damage is done when Lestrade and his crew break in on a drugs bust.~

I Thank My Lucky Stars (For Every Crack, Scratch, and Scar) by burnedplaylists

~Greg was aware that Sherlock acting a bit out of the ordinary wasn’t unusual. In fact, weird was Sherlock’s own brand of normal. But he had been texting the bloke for a week straight with no reply, not even with the promise of a locked-room murder.~

A Surprise in 221B by lancesface

~Lestrade entered the flat prepared to find a consulting detective sulking on the couch due to the lack of cases but instead found a short blond man, wearing an oatmeal jumper, who was limping down the hallway towards the door.~

Illusory Correlation and Confirmation Bias by VanillaBegonias 

~Looking back, there were a few things that should’ve tipped Greg off long before that night at the pub. A few things Sherlock left fairly obvious, that on reflection, made Greg question how he’d gotten his job in the first place.~

In Which Sherlock Is Hiding Something by Huffordle

~Sherlock is hiding something from Greg although the DI doesn't notice.~

Capt John H Watson, MBBS by anthonyedwardstark

~Sherlock has not been seen or heard from for more than a week. Lestrade decides to begin his search for the man at 221B Baker Street. When Scotland Yard's finest arrive at the flat, what (or rather who) they find is certain to surprise them.~

Sherlock's Secret by Superlocked_25

~Sherlock had a secret, one that he told no one. But people were becoming suspicious.~

Sherlock's "Friend" by Lavander_Clearwater

~Sherlock has been acting strange and Lestrade tries to figure out why.~

"Surprise! I'm gay!" by Awkward_bean_sky

~Sherlock suddenly doesn't answer any of Greg's calls anymore and he's worried to say the least. In the end, things aren't nearly as bad as he'd suspected.~

The Internet Is Not Just For Porn by cyerus

~John is Sherlock's internet boyfriend - from CANADA.No one thinks he's real.~

5687 (Approximately) by prettysailorsoldier

~When John's leave request for Christmas is denied, Sherlock is nothing short of devastated, not that he's letting it show. The holiday season now something he's just waiting to end, Sherlock doesn't think anything can possibly make it worse. That is, until he realizes no one in his life believes his army "boyfriend" is even real, but, luckily, everyone is in for a surprise.~

A Long Time Coming by thestanceyg 

~Sherlock's been acting strangely, and Lestrade isn't sure why. One day he finds a shirtless soldier in Sherlock's flat and things start to make a lot more sense.~

The One Where Greg is Exasperated & Confused, Sally is a Cow and Sherlock is Apparently Married by WhatLocked

~When Greg first met Sherlock he was rude, abrupt, acerbic, strung out and practically homeless, and was most certainly not in any way marriage material. This is probably why, when four years later, Sherlock flippantly mentions that he is married, no one believes him.~

Sherlock's Little Secret by DoctorRainyStardusttheThird (orphan_account)

~Namely...an army doctor boyfriend. During a drugs bust, the Yarders stumble upon something they weren't expecting.~

The Imaginary Boyfriend by Oliver_966

~John and Sherlock met after Johns first leave, and have been in a relationship for years. Sherlock hasn't ever mentioned this to anyone at the Yard, and when he does they turn it into a joke. Sherlock doesn't care though of course, because he knows his John is real.~

Sherlock's Who? by freakypet

~John has been away for Sherlock's entire career and suddenly returns to London unexpectedly from Afghanistan. Injured and tired and in pain, all he wants is to surprise Sherlock and kiss his husband. His search to find and surprise his wayward partner takes him across London and meets him up with those in Sherlock's world he has only heard about until now.~

Misc.

What Meets the Eye by worldaccordingtofangirls

~Amnesia is just another case to solve. Piece together unfamiliar faces, reconstruct the old identity, the lost reality. A challenge that Sherlock could even enjoy. He can read people like books. The man with the silver hair is his boss. The tottering old woman, his landlady. The girl with the worried look in her eyes…infatuated. And as for John Watson? His husband. Obviously.~

The Blind and the Clueless by InTheShadows

~5 times Greg saw John was perfect for Sherlock but didn't say anything and one time he did.~

Division by MrsNoggin

~John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes. Coffee Shop AU.~

Without Knowing How by kinklock

~John grows up reading about a fictional detective named Sherlock Holmes but, after nearly dying in Afghanistan, finds himself in a world where Sherlock Holmes is very much real.~

"finally kiss the bloody idiot" by Salambo06

~"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 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."~

Off on the Wrong Foot by Unloyal_Olio

~John and Sherlock aren't flatmates. Instead, John gets a job in Bart's morgue, and Sherlock attempts to abscond with body parts.Which is just not on.~

He’s Not Paid Enough to Deal with This Shit by janonny

~(Or the one where John returned from the war and ended up working for Mycroft as his personal assistant slash doctor on retainer. Everything was fine, until he was sent to post bail for one Sherlock Holmes.)~

An Officer, A Sociopath and A Soldier Walk Into A Bar by ourdancingdays

~...And the punch line is for their ears only. / When Greg started yet another drugs bust, he expected the decomposing ears and infuriating detective, but not the war hero husband leaning against the kitchen counter.~

Cherry Hearts by harrypotteryaoi

~Lestrade's team is unaware that Sherlock is in a relationship, but an accident on a case leads them to meet someone unexpected.~

The Soldier by Evandar

~Captain John Watson meets Sherlock Holmes in Afghanistan and - after a whirlwind romance involving spies and giant monsters - marries him on the army base there. Months later, he's shipped home to his husband wounded.~

Five Times John Noticed But Didn't Really by ScandalousMinds

~5 times John (thought) he noticed something peculiar about his and Sherlock's relationship but really missed the obvious.~

The Other Kind Of Drugs by Yuval25

~'Flushed, dilated pupils, and that weird text. Clearly, Sherlock's back on drugs, right?' A worried Detective Inspector Lestrade decides a drugs bust is in order. Little did he know, the new drug that Sherlock's got himself addicted to is much more... human. And blond. And a doctor.~

Signs of Life by DefNotForWork 

~The Yarders have a pretty well developed view of Sherlock Holmes. Cold, cruel, dispassionate and robotic. He simply doesn't register as human. As Sherlock and John fall farther and farther in love with one another, however, the proud men and women from NSY find themselves facing irrefutable evidence as to the true existence of a heart in Sherlock Holmes.~

The Imaginary Boyfriend by Oliver_966

~John and Sherlock met after Johns first leave, and have been in a relationship for years. Sherlock hasn't ever mentioned this to anyone at the Yard, and when he does they turn it into a joke. Sherlock doesn't care though of course, because he knows his John is real.~

Homecoming by nbcravenstag

~Greg Lestrade always knows when there's something wrong with Sherlock Holmes. When the detective stops talking, stops eating, doesn't come to crime scenes, and barely moves from the red chair in 221B, Greg starts to worry that he's using again, and this time, he's in too deep to be helped. That is, until a certain soldier shows up at a crime scene.~

[detective4blog]

I wrote more of those sweet yet sad bastards <33 emphasis on the sad part <33

Uh tw for slight self hatred!

Sebastian stared at the ceiling fan spin around, getting lost in thought. A dangerous thing to do when your mind is as messy as his, but he couldn't help it. He was bored and there was nothing better to do than dive into the deep end.

What was John doing right now?

Sebastian blinked at the question. The hypnotic sync his eyes had with the fan broke, making it's rotation look wrong. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes from it, feeling a bit dizzy now.

Maybe drinking tea or eating lunch. Maybe he went out for lunch too, enjoyed the nice weather. Probably wearing a nice jumper too.

He sighed, dropping his hand onto his face. The one time he would've welcomed harsher thoughts of people in the past, it had to go to John Hamish Watson.

Hopefully his bed isn't cold. Maybe he met a nice girl or fella. Maybe he's just got better heating. Either way, I hope he's warm.

He groaned now, rolling onto his side to stare out the window. It wasn't a nice view of the street at all, but it was still enjoyable. He could see birds flying from above rooftops, he could see smoke rising from chimneys.

Funny. Wishing someone is warm when I've pointed a gun at him.

Sebastian blinked then closed his eyes, huffing quietly. "It was one time. He doesn't even know." He muttered to himself, rubbing his temple. "He won't know."

Everything was quiet for a moment. He thought about taking a nap, despite the midday sun glowing in his room.

I could contact him. His email is on that stupid website. We could try again.

The blonde sat up, glancing at his phone on the nightstand. It'd be so easy to do, but he stopped himself. Getting involved with someone who was unfortunately very tied up into work was a horrid idea.

It could be for just one night. Feel good, mimic the good ol' days, sleep comfortably. I always slept better in his arms...

"God damnit," he muttered, getting out of bed and walking to the bathroom. A shower sounded nice. Maybe that stupid massage setting could steer his thoughts away from...whatever this was.

I wonder if he ever thinks of me when he-

Sebastian turned the water on blasting cold to nip that thought in the bud, biting his tongue to hold back a shriek. Too lazy to change the temperature, he dealt with the cold. Wasn't the worst shower conditions after all.

I miss him.

He started rubbing shampoo in his hair. Fruit scented; how fitting. Sebastian snorted at the irony of it. Maybe he should get a haircut soon, his hair was getting long...or grow it out again.

I miss how nice he made life seem.

He ducked his head under the water, closing his eyes. He'd gotten used to the cold water running over his body, making sure all the soap was rinsed from his hair and face before opening his eyes again.

I want to be ordinary.

"What am I, the living embodiment of that fuckin' song?" He muttered out loud, laughing at himself. "Forget that, I'm too far gone for a 'perfect soul'."

He shut the water off, snatching his towel from the rack. Army green; Jim must've thought he was being real cute with that. Regardless, he still used it to start drying off. At least it wasn't a rough towel, it didn't make his chest scars flare up.

I wanted to be with him.

Sebastian wrapped the towel around his waist, kicking his old clothes into the growing pile. He knew he had some clean comfortable clothes somewhere in his closet.

We were going to get a place together. We'd wake up and eat breakfast together.

He snatched a discarded robe. He was just getting increasingly more upset about thinking of the "what ifs" from the past and just wanted some damn sleep.

I want to be ordinary with him. No one else. Just him. He makes it look so lovely.

Sebastian laid down in bed, setting an alarm for the evening so he could eat dinner. The thought of contacting John came back to mind, this time the impulsiveness winning.

"Hey, It's Moran. Found out you've got a blog, wanted to get in touch. Hope life's been treating you well. -Bastian."

He reread the email too many times before hitting send and flinging his phone away. There was enough damage done to the blasted thing, getting thrown onto either the floor or nightstand couldn't hurt.

He makes the mundane look like art. Reading the newspaper, eating breakfast, setting alarms. He's a masterpiece. And I'm...not.

What a lovely train of thought to start drifting asleep to. Not the worst, of course, but not any better. Sebastian wrapped the blankets tightly around himself, burying half his face into the plush pillow.

I'm the paper used to test colored. Dried paint peeling off, colors that didn't work out staying around. The smell of expired paint soaking through. Used over and over, yet never discarded. I still have use. I still have blank spaces that can test a color.

Poetic self hatred. That was new. A bit nicer than the aggressive repeated words that would only stop after a bottle or two. Still hurt like a knife to think, of course.

Sebastian shut his eyes tightly. Trying to think of anything; some show he had seen recently, his favorite song, the stars. But no, it always circled back to John.

He'd listen to me talk about the stars. Listen for hours, to the point we'd both be exhausted the next day. Poor bastard must've really liked me to lose sleep over listening about the story of Orion or the difference between the Big and Little Dipper.

That got a chuckle from Sebastian, shaking his head a little. He missed being the bright eyed idiot that would talk about the stars with whoever listened. He was still an idiot, but didn't have the bright eyes and talked about the stars with whoever was closest emotionally.

I want to tell him about Canes Venatici and explain the different types of moons to him. Super moons, blood moons, blue moons...

Sappy. At least he was still a sap. He was starting to drift asleep, hearing the notification sound from his discarded phone but too tired to check it out.

I want to know if his eyes still shine when he smiles. I want to know if he still hates the smell of cinnamon but loves the taste. I want to know if he still remembers what I told him about the galaxy. I want to know if he ever thinks of me when he smells cigarette smoke.

Another notification sounded as he finally fell asleep, comfortable in the blanket tomb he made for himself. He didn't dream of anything special. The stars, mostly. How they danced with each other, even when both were dead and still shining brightly. How it was just like the memories of him and John in the past. The younger versions of themselves were dead but still danced together.

...

"Sebastian! It's been a while! Life's been alright. Got a lot to tell you about, heh. We could meet up for lunch tomorrow. I live near a cafe. -J"

[jamesphillimoresumbrella]

2022 Things

I wasn’t as productive as I wanted to be this year. Which is to say that I didn’t write as much I’d like, which was a major goal but well. Somewhere along the way, I started to think of 2022 as the Wasted Year and resolved that I just had to hang on for the ride (or not--I was quite surprised that I made it to Christmas and I don’t know what to do with myself now that it’s the New Year).

I just wrote four little fics, mostly clustered in the early part of the year, when I had a very different outlook. I didn’t make headway on any of my massive pile of WIPs, but then I didn’t add to them either, so I guess that’s something.

This is my small pile of offerings. Here’s hoping to a better year next time around.

Cozy (856 words) by tepidspongebath

Chapters: 1/?

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson

Additional Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship

Series: Part 1 of Fluffbruary 2022

Summary:

One did not look at Sherlock Holmes and think that here was a man who looked good in jumpers.

Written for the Fluffbruary prompt for the 1st of of the month: Cozy

Shiny (735 words) by tepidspongebath

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes

Additional Tags: Fluff, of dubious quality, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluffbruary

Series: Part 2 of Fluffbruary 2022

Summary:

You didn’t get much more civilized than afternoon tea. Which was unfortunate because it was rather spoiled by Sherlock taking a running leap and tackling their hostess to the ground just as she was setting a tempting plate of tea cakes on the table by John’s elbow.

Written for the Fluffbruary prompt for the 5th of of the month: Shiny

His Half of the Bed (4735 words) by tepidspongebath

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Additional Tags: There Was Only One Bed, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Humor, Established Relationship, (what did I say about this not going the way you think?), Author Is Sleep Deprived, so everyone else is too, Sharing a Bed, But not in the fun way, there are many rambling thoughts

Summary:

“I don’t know if you’ll like it—”

“We’ll like it.”

“It’s not ideal—”

“It’ll be fine.”

“There’s only one bed—”

“Does it look like that matters?”

The Working of Wonders

(4599 words) by

tepidspongebath

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom:

Sherlock (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Sally Donovan/Molly Hooper

Additional Tags: Case Fic, Magical Realism, Mind Control

Summary:

"Don't worry about it." It was on the tip of her tongue to say that coffee would be wonderful and amazing and perfect, maybe on Saturday if they were both free and if people would just stop violently killing each other for long enough, but the words got caught in her teeth and what tumbled out from between her lips was, "I have to run. I need to see Mrs. Ferrour before Greg or, god forbid, Sherlock gets to her." She tried again, desperately wanting to redeem herself. Molly was blushing the deep red of horrible embarrassment, and she couldn't stand it. "Sorry about coffee."

Sally Donovan would like nothing more than to go have coffee with Molly Hooper. If only she didn't have a murder suspect controlling her mind.

(This last was my Holmestice offering for @vulgarweed​)

[calaisreno]

Three Women Perplex the British Government

1362 words / Prompt: Journey / A sequel to Sixth Sense. (Just in case you were wondering what Molly decided to do!)

---

He doesn’t recognise the woman standing before him. His mother trained him well, though, so he rises and gestures at the chair. 

“Please.” He glances at Anthea, who is giving him an inscrutable look from the doorway. The one that says he’s offended her in some way that she will neither admit nor explain. 

Anthea closes the door. Mycroft regards the woman, who is still standing. 

“Please,” he repeats, giving her a generic smile. 

His visitor is regarding him as well. Studying him. No smile. “I’d rather not.”

She’s a tiny woman, and he’s a tall man. If she would only sit down, he could sit as well, and it would not feel so much like he’s bullying her. That’s not his style, at least not with women. Small women, dressed in hand knit jumpers. 

He has no idea what she wants, but is afraid that some persuasion might be necessary. Not the bullying he reserves for his brother, or even the subtle manipulation he aims at John Watson, a difficult man to intimidate.

“Miss…?” He feels like he ought to know her. 

“Molly Hooper,” she says. “We haven’t met. I’m—”

“Yes, of course. Doctor Hooper. How can I help you?” He looks down at her, desperately wishing she’d take the chair. “I should thank you,” he remembers to say. “Your help was greatly appreciated. I hope my brother expressed that to you.”

“I’m here about John Watson.”

“Ah.” He narrows his eyes, anticipating the outburst of sentiment she will unleash. “I’m maintaining surveillance on him. You need not concern yourself about any retribution against him. He is safe.”

“It’s not that,” she replies, folding her arms across her chest and glaring. She’s about as intimidating as a kindergarten teacher, but she’s making him uneasy. 

He should have anticipated this. Sherlock assured him that she would play her part well, and Mycroft himself managed the business about the body. But even a goldfish might have a conscience, especially if other goldfish are asking questions.

“Are you receiving any scrutiny over your part in the plan? That can be handled.”

“No, it’s fine. What I mean is, John isn’t coping well with Sherlock’s death.”

“Ah. My brother asked you to assist him in keeping Doctor Watson in the dark, and you’re feeling guilty that you know things which he does not. I assure you that we considered all possible scenarios, and none of them involved taking Doctor Watson into our confidence.”

“Why not?”

“Doctor Watson is a soldier. He is used to death and equipped to handle grief.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she says, glaring in earnest now. “It’s been months. Have you seen him?”

“My people are keeping a weather eye on him.”

“But you haven’t called on him?”

“He would not appreciate hearing from me, Doctor Hooper. I’m afraid my concern will not help him.”

She closes her eyes briefly, shaking her head. “You made a mistake. You and Sherlock.”

“There were not many options before us.”

“Was it you or Sherlock who decided not to tell him?”

“My brother has a great deal of sentiment for Doctor Watson. I’m afraid I had to dissuade him.”

Her voice raises. “Because he loves John?”

“Doctor Watson is not…” He considers how he should word it, decides that being forthright will end this conversation sooner. “My brother’s feelings are not returned. Cannot be returned. Sherlock is gay, and Doctor Watson is not.”

“How do you know?”

“He has stated this publicly several times. Sherlock knows as well. In order to undertake the task he set for himself, it was necessary to leave him behind. I have no doubt that the doctor will meet a lovely woman and be married before long.”

“I don’t care what label you put on him. He loved Sherlock, and it’s killing him that he’s dead. He has PTSD. When they met, he was suicidal. If anything happens to him—”

“Miss Hooper. If you are considering breaking your promise, I must warn you. This matter involves branches of our government whose existence is unknown to most people. I would hate to—”

“Don’t threaten me, Mr Holmes,” she says. “At this point, what is the harm in telling him? If there are still snipers trailing after him, you haven’t done a very good job, have you? And if there aren’t any snipers, there’s no reason not to tell him.”

He has erred. This woman is no goldfish. 

And Anthea keeps asking him about Watson, suggesting that it’s time he knew. 

And then there’s this other woman. Mary Morstan, she calls herself. A complication. She vexes him. 

“Very well,” he says. “I will handle it.”

---

“Well, I’m back,” John says. 

The headstone is silent, as it should be. John Watson does not look like a man who expects an answer from a block of marble. He squares his shoulders and stands at parade rest, hands clasped behind his back. 

“I’m back again,” he repeats. “I just wanted to tell you something.”

He looks uneasy, Mycroft thinks. A confession, then.

“When you died, I thought I’d never… find myself again. I wasn’t good, not for a long time. Maybe that would surprise you.” He smiles grimly. “Well, you’re beyond surprise now, so I may as well say what I didn’t say the first time I came here. No, I’m not going to ask again. I know there’s not going to be any miracle. You’re not… coming back.” 

He lowers his face into his hand. For a moment his shoulders shake. Mycroft waits.

Drawing a deep breath, he raises his head. “So, this is it. What I should have told you… when it might have made a difference. Maybe it wouldn’t have, but I wish I’d said, just in case… well. I love you. I always did.” Choking back a sob, he continues. “You didn’t do that, though. No sentiment. Caring’s not an advantage. Yeah. But I did. Love you.”

The sentiment is so thick, it’s almost nauseating. Mycroft desperately wants a cigarette. Reminding himself of what he’s here to do, he waits.

“Once, I asked you for a miracle. But there aren’t any miracles, at least not for us. And now…” John wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his jumper. “Now it’s time. I know I’ll never be over you, never forget what it was like… but I’m alive, and I think I have to do something to stay that way. Get on with it, try to have a life without you.” He clears his throat and sniffs. “I met somebody. She isn’t you, but I think you would have liked her, that she would’ve been the one who finally passed muster. I know she would’ve liked you. So, I’m giving it a go, asking her. To marry me, I mean.” 

He makes a sound that might be a laugh, or maybe a sob. “I have to try,” he says. “I wish… well, it’s no use. I love you, but you’re not here. And I just can’t be alone forever. So.” He straightens his back, nods at the black marble. “This is goodbye, Sherlock.” 

As he turns, Mycroft steps out. John’s eyes widen, then narrow with suspicion. 

“Doctor Watson,” he says. “There are several things you need to know.”

—-

When he opens the door of his office, Anthea is waiting for him.

“Well?”

“You were right.” He sighs and meets her eyes. “Good call.”

The look on her face softens into a barely-detectable smile. “I’ve taken care of the Morstan woman. Extradition is underway.”

“She was…?” 

“Yes. Different name, but she’d done several jobs for him. The Americans will be glad to have her back. She won’t be visiting us any time soon.”

He nods, suddenly weary, and sinks into his chair. Too much sentiment, too much emotion. It’s exhausting. “Now we only need to bring my brother home.”

“We’ve received word this morning that he’s on his way to to Serbia.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Intercept him. We’ll let Baynes and his team handle that. Sherlock needs to come home.”

Her smile broadens. “As you wish.”

The door closes behind her. 

“Good journey, brother,” he whispers. “No more surprises.”

---

Read / comment on AO3

[strawberrywinter4]

Chapter 4 is Up!

John clears his throat, nodding. “Yeah, how’d you—”

“New cologne. Nice jumper. Dark jeans. Common date wear.” John hates how robotic Sherlock sounds, displeasure palpable in his words.

John licks his lips, not really knowing what to say. “Yeah. Um—I probably won’t be long, though. We can return to the case right when I get—”

Suddenly, Sherlock swivels and strides toward him, looming over him once he’s in close distance. “You’re going with the woman you saw at the restaurant yesterday?”

John blinks, trying to keep eye contact. “Yes.”

Sherlock releases a long breath. John begins to wonder if he’s going to tell him off, bark complaints. But to John’s bewilderment, Sherlock’s hands find his waist, bringing him close so that their chests are inches away from touching. John tries to keep his breaths leveled, but they’re turning heavy, vibrating with each inhale. Sherlock’s inquisitive eyes roam John without shame, his lips slightly parted. John finds himself wanting to know what they taste like.

Read here on ao3.

Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @ninasnakie @thegildedbee @whodwantmeasaflatmate @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @sherlocknjohn221b @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @7-percent @itsonlytext @chinike @peanitbear @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ghostofnuggetspast @dw91165 @jolieblack @kettykika78 @johnlockbbc

(Please let me know if you don’t or do want to be tagged)

Summary: Recently retired police officer, John Watson, stumbles upon an odd man named Sherlock Holmes when traveling by train on his way home. He concludes the detective is insane after having only one conversation with him, but can't help but be intrigued. Ignoring John's hesitance, Sherlock brings him along on an exciting case. Through this adventure, Sherlock doesn't bother to hide his palpable obsession with John while John tries to hide his growing feelings. What will happen when they both break, following their desires?

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Tags: Case Fic, Possessive Sherlock Holmes, Obsessive Behavior, Sherlock Holmes is a Bit Not Good, Takes place by the bay in Maine, American!John, Ocean, Small Towns, Alternative Universe-Small Town, Sherlock Holmes loves John Watson, John Watson is oblivious, BAMF John Watson, BAMF Sherlock Holmes, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Love Confessions, Kissing, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Read chapter 1 here.

Spotify Playlist here.

I just made a little something…can’t wait to see where it goes! <3

Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @ninasnakie @thegildedbee @whodwantmeasaflatmate @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @sherlocknjohn221b @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @7-percent @itsonlytext @chinike @peanitbear @mary-johnlocked @bakerstreetbe @curlyjohnlock @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ceceliajupe @ghostofnuggetspast @dw91165 @jolieblack @cortinita @gwendelaneyisjohnlocked

[topsyturvy-turtely]

OTP challenge - day 17

[link to day 16]

17: washing something

"Sherlock?", the name sounded from the laundry room, formed as a question by John Watson.

Sherlock hummed, doubting his flatmate would hear him but not caring. But said man kept going anyways, "Do you have any idea where my jumper is?"

"The hideous one?"

"You find all my jumpers hideous, I mean the grey one! I need to wash it!"

Sherlock eyed his bedroom door. "No idea."

*one week later*

"Where the hell is it?", John asked, kneeling on the floor, looking under the couch. Sherlock rather enjoyed the view.

"Where's what?", Sherlock asked, while continuing to eye John's arse.

"My jumper!", with that John stood up and flapped his arms, frustrated.

"I'm sure it's somewhere, you just gotta look better."

John grunted. "Thanks for your help, Sherlock." Annoyed sarcasm was floating from his voice.

*two weeks later*

"I don't get it!", a very grumpy John Watson stomped through the flat. Almost aggressively searching for the one jumper. The jumper! The John Watson jumper! He had to find it!

Out of a sudden spur, John marched into Sherlock's room without knocking. Sherlock, who was sitting on his bed, looked at him, startled. With John's jumper in his hands.

"Is that... my jumper?", John asked surprised.

Sherlock - looking caught - stared up at John. Looked at the jumper in his hands... and at John again. "It... might?"

"I'm... confused... Did you... keep it?"

"I... might have.", Sherlock said, visibly uncomfortable.

"But, why?"

"It doesn't matter!", Sherlock said, suddenly all of the awkwardness gone. He stood up and moved as if to exit the room.

"Oh, no. You're not leaving-" John stood in front of the door. "-until you've told me why you kept my favorite jumper for over three weeks!"

"It's for-", the smallest pause, almost unnoticeable, but John did notice. "-an experiment."

"Yeah? What kinda experiment is that? Why would you need a sheep wool jumper for it? Hell, the last time I had it I spilled freaking tomatoe-sauce on it!"

"I washed it out."

"You washed what out?"

"The tomato stain, obviously, John. Do keep up. Now will you let me-", Sherlock wanted to push by John, but the doctor wasn't having it.

"The whole reason why I was looking for my jumper in the first place, was, because I needed to wash it, so-", a realization hit John. "For god's sake- did you wash it by hand?"

With two big steps he was at his jumper. The red-brown stain still faintly visible. With an incredulous look he held the jumper up towards- nothing.

Sherlock was gone.

He had fled the scene.

When John quickly walked into the living room, he faintly heard the outside door close.

With an exhausted sigh, his jumper in his hands, John sat down in his armchair. What has Sherlock's mission been? Confused, John glared at his jumper. Then he picked it up, grabbed more laundry and turned the washing machine on. He had missed this piece of clothing. A lot. Maybe... if he looked into Sherlock's room...?

***

Sherlock called a cab as soon as he was outside of the flat.

He couldn't believe he had been caught like that. John is suspecting something for sure. He didn't lie however - he actually had needed the jumper for an experiment. He wouldn't waste his thoughts on this right now, though. He was dropped off at Bart's and immediately started working on some poor guy that had already been half-eaten by chrysalises before Scotland Yard had found him. The murderer was the husband of course - it is always the husband.

Sherlock lost himself in documenting the stage of decay of the corpse and for an hour or two he almost forgot about John Watson and his jumper. Almost, never all the way.

When Sherlock returned home, he found John in his armchair calmly typing away on his laptop. A relieved sigh escaped- and immediately got stuck in his throat when he saw his journal on the coffee table next to his flatmate. It was where he had kept track of all the different smells of John, and how it had been impacted by keeping it in his room. (He would never admit he sometimes would sleep with it. Well- It was for the experiment!) The jumper was the John-est thing he could find. John wore this article of clothing the most. Therefore it was the best sample for his research.

"Why are you still standing there like you've seen a ghost? Sit down!", John asked him. Slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal, Sherlock did as he was told.

The doctor then looked up, smiled, put his laptop away, leaned forward. Sherlock gulped and considered running away again. He was not ready for the conversation that was about to be held.

"So." John started, and Sherlock eyed the door. "Don't run away I am not mad, I promise.", John saw through his flatmate immediately.

Sherlock nodded.

But when he saw, John still had that assuring, patient smile on his face, it somehow put Sherlock off. He was just considering jumping up and running away again when John spoke up, "I'm gonna make a deduction."

Sherlock opened his mouth but John continued before Sherlock could say anything.

"You love-", John began too loudly. He cleared his throat. "You love... my jumper."

Alarmed, Sherlock immediately started to find an excuse. "Look, John. The only reason I took that-"

"Actually, I think you love... me."

Sherlock was dumbfounded. "No. No, John, you're misinterpreting this. I-"

"And I...", John took a deep breath. "...love you, too." John apparently wasn't gonna let Sherlock finish one sentence.

"-never meant to make our friendship... Wait. what did you just say?"

John looked at him, eyes intense. "You love me. And I love you, too.", he said matter-of-factly. A statement - a deduction - in John-Watson-style: Not a long monologue, only the hard facts.

"Did I seduce you, Mr. Holmes?"

"I'm certain you meant 'dedu-'" an abrupt ending. "Oh.", Sherlock said.

A smirk crept on John's face. Slowly, he inched closer towards Sherlock. He was sitting on the edge of his armchair now.

"I'm gonna kiss you now, are you okay with that?"

"John, what-"

"That was a simple yes-no question. So, what is your answer? Yes or no?"

Sherlock gulped and looked at John. "Y-Yes."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

And just like that, something, Sherlock never even dared to dream of, came true.

---

hi!

i, originally, wanted to update Human Urges but i have the biggest fucking writer's block with that fic. every time i open that doc i am immediately mad because i dislike it SO MUCH and do not know how to fix it. and then i just close it, because WHAT. if any of you are reading it - i apologize for the extremely slow updates. please know i will manage eventually and i hope it will be worth the wait!

anygays. decided to finally publish this silly little thing at least. hope you like it! lmk! thanks for reading and reblogging, babes! -🐢

btw i will probably join @fluffbruary - sounds like a cool challenge. maybe i can actually pull through with it :D

tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @7arantellgrrl @ssmeowl123 @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @pansherlock @the-smol-bean-libby-blog @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @almosttinycowboy @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @baker-street-blog @psychosociogentleman

[john-smiths-jawline]

Set Fire To A Daydream

Summary: Can you set fire to a daydream?

When Sherlock’s mind palace melts to the ground, can he find his John in time, or will it be too late? (This fic borders teen and gen so no need to worry)

Set Fire To A Daydream

Can you set fire to a daydream?

See it grow from a spark to a raging flame?

Feel the burning heat as it tears your wonderland away?

Can you set fire to a daydream?

Watch everything you built melt like wax?

Stand there, in the middle of it all, powerless to stop what you started?

Can you set fire to a daydream?

Watch as it becomes a nightmare?

Everything you gained becoming everything you lost?

Can you set fire to a nightmare?

Sherlock thought that he was about to find out.

As the mind palace burned, all he could think about was John. Everything he loved, had been setting up for decades, was being destroyed and all he could think about was John. Did that say something about him? Maybe. Probably. Most likely, but Sherlock ran through the fire, thinking only of JohnJohnJohn. He ran through wing after wing of melting models, drips of burning hot information burned his body, soaking through his closed to his brain and providing such a wealth of unnecessary knowledge it almost caused an overload, but Sherlock pushed back and thought only of JohnJohnJohn.

It had been nothing but a tiny spark at first. Nothing to be worried about. John was away at the surgery (boring), and the mind palace needed a little bit of cleaning. It was likely Sherlock would be finished before John returned. A tiny spark. Sherlock was going to take care of it, but he was distracted by the disorder in the entomology wing. The Praying Mantis had gotten loose again. Sherlock groaned and rolled up his sleeves. This would take a while. As he closed the door to contain the mess, he didn’t notice the small spark becoming not so small anymore.

Error message after error message. Sherlock tries to find John, tries to escape the entomology wing (the praying mantis hardly seemed that big a deal now). He needs to find John. When was the last time Sherlock told John he loved him? Last night when they were going to sleep. John didn’t hear him. Shit. When was the last time John heard Sherlock say he loved him? It’s been three days, at least. Sherlock doesn’t want John to die without him knowing Sherlock sees him as the moon and the stars, due to the fact that he can’t ever seem to remember the non-John version of either. Ideally, John wouldn’t die at all, but if that’s the unavoidable end, Sherlock wants to be there. As much as it will break him to see the light leave John’s eyes, at least Sherlock will be able to whisper I love you, I love you, I love you. It’s always you. John Watson, you keep me right. Girlfriends aren’t my area, but boyfriends are. That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever done. And you invaded Afghanistan. Somebody loves you. Keep your eyes fixed on me. John. John. JOHN.

It takes Sherlock far too long to realize he’s too overcome with panic to move a single step. He’s immobilized, hyperventilating, unable to do anything as the world, his world, JohnJohnJohn, melted around him. Sherlock inhaled. He couldn’t remember if he exhaled, too terrified to consider himself with boring things like breathing. And he ran. He ran through the halls, following John’s presence. John is everywhere, but lately he’s gained a physical body, walking around and calling Sherlock brilliant and amazing whenever their paths meet. John with his jumpers and tea and gun. John with his hair and his eyes and his smile. John. John. John, who is dying. John, melting like wax. And there he is, the melting wax twisting his face into something Sherlock hopes to never see again. His eyes are still there, melted pools of blue. John seems to sense Sherlock’s presence, and he reaches out a half-gone hand. Sherlock wishes his eyes would melt. Then he wouldn’t have to see this, John the burning candle finally sputtering out.

“B-brill-llian-ant, Sher-r-r-looock,” John slurred as best as he could. There was no malice in John’s voice. Even dying, John still thinks the best of Sherlock, knew that he never suspected a small spark to destroy everything. He was supposed to be in control. It was his mind; How did this happen? Sherlock may never rebuild the mind palace after what it did to John. At least he had backups. Sherlock blinked. Without conscious decision, Sherlock had taken ahold of John, lowering his melted form onto Sherlock’s coat. He burnt his hands holding what was left of John’s face in them, and he didn’t care. John continued to melt, despite Sherlock’s best efforts to stop it, already! Doesn’t his mind know it’s his? Salty tears he refused to acknowledge flowed from his eyes and landed on John’s jumper, which was very quickly becoming one with his skin.

“L-love you, Sher,” John’s voice was barely there. The pools of endless, swirling blue haunted Sherlock’s vision as they dripped down the shape of his head.

“I love you,” Sherlock whispered. Said. Screamed. Did it matter? “I love you; I love you; I love you,” John Watson, you kept me right. John melts into a puddle in Sherlock’s arms, and Sherlock sits there, powerless in his own mind to do anything but watch. Eventually, Sherlock’s legs stand up from the John-puddle and carry him out. He doesn’t want them to. But they do. Is there anything he does have control over? His legs carry him out of the mind palace, and he turns around to see everything he loved on fire. It saddens him to a great degree. But he would sacrifice it all for John. His John.

Sherlock jumps out of his mind palace with a gasp and a sob. He immediately started panicking. John had died John had melted John— John was pushing him back down onto the couch, John was running his not-melted fingers through Sherlock’s sweaty curls, John was pressing soft kisses to his cheek and whispering sweet nothings.

“Shh, Sherlock, it’s okay, love, it’s okay, I promise.”

“John.” That one word seemed to be all Sherlock was capable of saying. But he put everything he had into it, every unsaid I love you, every I need you, every you died, you were dead, you melted in my arms and I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t save you. John seemed to understand, turning Sherlock’s face and giving him a soft kiss on the lips. He gently laid the blanket that was usually on his chair over Sherlock and continued to stroke his hair as Sherlock slowly drifted off to sleep.

He dreamed of not-melted John and how they solved crimes all across London.

Can you rebuild a broken daydream?

Look at the ashes and floating information and decide to try again?

Take that first step into the ruins?

Can you rebuild a broken daydream?

Know it will never be the same, and still try?

Feel the surge of familiarity once the walls are up again?

Can you rebuild a broken daydream?

Feel as though it’s becoming reality?

The finished building shining with newness and pride?

Can you look the same way at a rebuilt daydream?

Sherlock thought that he was about to find out.

here's the ao3:

[helloliriels]

Since you are the unofficial jumpers of Watson expert, I have a question for you.

Imagine John chooses his jumper of the day to tell Sherlock something. Like a secret language in jumpers. Which message would each of the jumpers convey?

Ooh! I like this! (and am I ?! ♡ (✿◠‿◠) ♡) honored @myriath

(omg don't look at the date) (jesus, liri) (inorite???)

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

John likes to be comfortable. Casual. But classic. But ... he's also not a HUGE fan of ironing ... hence the jumpers. Over the years, Sherlock has begun to decode the messages behind each and every one of John's jumpers. As tough, and stong, and durable as John himself. Or soft, and sexy, and tactile ... also like John ...

Sometimes, Sherlock finds a new jumper, and buys it for him. Just to learn what new message this one will carry in their lives.

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

The Oatmeal Jumper

I'm nothing. No one. Just an ordinary old man with a war injury. Useless really. Might just sit down and ... blend in. Nothing to see here, right? Wait ... why are you looking at me like I'm ... ? I'm interesting? ... me?? You do realise, it's just ... me ... ? ... right?

Maybe I'll wear it again ... just to test the hypothesis and make sure you aren't ... oh. You are ...

Well then ... I need to think about ... about this ...

The Christmas Jumper

You bought me this and didn't think I'd wear it did you? Well ... joke's on you! I think you're hot. And I'll wear this sweater, no matter how warm it is in here with this fire. Just to show you that I freaking LOVE anything you give me. Even if you don't realize yet how much I love you ... and I'll be damned if i'm even gonna try mentioning it yet! Yeah, nope ... too soon. Just flaunt the jumper.

The Blue Button Down Jumper

I'm your blogger. Your one friend. Your indispensable companion. Your conductor of light. I look good in blue? ... I do. I really do. Think I'll wear this color more often ... Your eyes ... they seem drawn to it. ... to me ... Though I can tell you're trying to show you aren't looking.

The tight layer was a good move ... Maybe I should get a few more.

The Striped Jumper

I'm so cozy around you. I just want to enjoy this morning. Have a lie in. Make breakfast. Let the world mind it's own matters today ... We have each other ... Just you and I against the world.

The Green Jumper Vest

You. Jumped. You jumped, and you made me watch. And now I'm getting married to someone else ...

... Of course I'm comfortable in my new life! See! Old man. Dressed for the part already. Ordinary plain ol' John again, remember? Just. That. Guy™. Clearly not as important as your homeless network or your favourite villain! Even your brother knew! Your damn. Brother.

He's not even looking. Not even ...

I'm burning this vest tomorrow. F*ck it. I could at least try ...

The Blue Jumper Redux

I remember you liked me in blue. How's this then? Cashmere. That's right. Two can dress to kill, mister fancy-pants! I'll wear it and wait to see what you think of it. A bit jealous, eh? heh. That's right.

I've still got it.

Maybe I'll wear this on the stag night.

Just you and me.

Once last chance to make your move.

I don't mind.