#and how watson would inevitably FEEL ABOUT HIM.

[thesylverlining]

So, I, Um.... Yeah.

Perchance To Dream

Chapter One: First, The Storm

"There, there, you're all right now," I gently lied, as I lay him down to rest. And then, I told the truth, with all my heart. "And it will be all right. The room is dry, Sherlock. The waters are far, far from you, and they will not enter as long as I am here. Now rest. I will only be a moment." "Promise, John?" he asked, voice still high, faint, brittle. It was my name he'd said, I insisted to myself, most firmly. Mine.

(A fanfiction for Sherlock Holmes: The Awakened; Frogwares videogame series)

[topsyturvy-turtely]

Fluffbruary with turtely

fluffinity edition. 14-11-2024

(i wrote this yesterday i swear!)

prompts: cuddle - happy - spell

special thanks to @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk and @fluffbruary for reminding me to write 😩🙈

i am sitting here in the armchair. my cold feet covered by the body heat of redbeard, our dog. his - sherlock's - head lays on my chest. arms wrung around me. i feel his deep breaths through my jumper, on my skin. even after all this years, it tingles.

the fingers of my left hand are raking through his slowly thinning, grey but oh so luscious curls. my other hand - on his belly. it had grown a bit. he isn't quite as skinny as he used to be. you can barely see it. but i love the feeling of that tum underneath my palm.

the dying embers are shining weakly into the living room. putting everything in a spellbinding light. always loved that. love it now even more it seems. i smile about that thought.

sometimes i still can't comprehend how i got so lucky. how i found this man. how he died for me and then came back for me. how he raised my daughter with me.

rosie - she will be here. only a few weeks until christmas now. we'll be having dinner. she will give both of us terrible christmas sweaters. i'm looking forward to that look on sherlock's face after i convinced him to wear it. absolutely completely miserable but then those odd, gorgeous features breaking a smile.

and i will be as besotted as i have been since the beginning.

i press my lips to his forehead, close my eyes, breathe in his scent.

being old and happy. what a beautiful thing that is.

read "that stuff called fluff" (fluffbruary ficlets) on ao3!

(if you could show some love to this i would greatly appreciate it as i am in a massive writer's block and seeing people reblogging etc. might actually motivate me to write. thank you ✨) (i sound desperate, but- well, i am. ngl)

☕︎☕︎☕︎

tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed please 💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @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 @quickslvxrr @compact-and-beautiful @kabubsmagga @sunshineinyourmind @booksoversleep @startrekker2011 @justjayisfine0

[theweepingangelofcas]

I am aware that you are very busy, and I wish you ease!

I had a request, the reader who has just moved to the apartment cannot get along with Sherlock at first. (Since we know that Sherly doesn't like women) he doesn't want to accept her existence at first, but as time goes by, he gets used to her existence.

From time to time she would go into his study and pick it up, and sherlock was uncomfortable with it. but after a while he starts to like making this and such gestures-

YESSS I've been needing inspo to write for my dear Sherly!!! I hope you like it! Like our dear Sherly in the show, canonically, Sherlock has always been moreso awkward and distrustful of women rather than purely disliking them. He's not one to disrespect or demean a woman just because of gender, moreso that he just doesn't like female company. Victorian era feminist, I guess? This starts off from Sherlock's perspective, before switching to the reader's. Hope you all enjoy!

***********

Flatmates, to Enemies, to Lovers - Sherlock x Reader

He. Needed. Cash.

Or, more accurately, he needed money for rent again. Ms. Hudson had raised the price on him, saying that if he was to cause so much ruckus at such ungodly hours of the night, then he should compensate her for it. As always, a lengthy argument ensued, that she inevitably won, and that left him with few options.

Getting more money was an issue, right now. His most recent case had left Lestrade a bit miffed at him, so it was unlikely he'd get another one until at least another week or two.

Going to John wasn't an option either. If he found out about all this, especially since it was all Sherlock's fault? He'd never hear the end of it.

That left him with only one last option.

They had a spare bedroom.

A new flatmate was in order.

Though Ms. Hudson approved the idea of a new flatmate, she made it very clear that her, and her alone would be the one choosing them in the end. He just had to find the right person.

It had been a major miracle that he had stumbled upon Dr. Watson when he needed him. Surely another kind soul would help him out, right?

Wrong.

None of his connections brought him any luck, and not a single one of John's friends needed a place to stay. It was like every possible person he could have picked had been plucked up into the heavens.

Rent payment was getting close. It got to where he had a measly 48 hours to find someone to help him, or goodness knows how much Ms. Hudson would abuse him.

So, when you knocked upon the door, it felt like whatever cruel god there was had finally given him a break.

Finally, his ad in the paper had been answered.

But, there was one problem. He knew it before he even opened the door.

The knocks were light. Dainty. The shoes walking up to the door sounded exactly like low heels. And, he could smell a faint hint of floral perfume.

The person who would come to live with him was a woman.

It wasn't the societal taboo that irked him about the situation. After all, since when had he cared what other people thought? But it was the idea that he'd have to share his flatmate with someone he'd be absolutely rubbish at tolerating that he loathed.

If he wasn't so desperate, he would have shooed you away. Lied and said that the room wasn't available anymore. But, he could feel Ms. Hudson's furious gaze through the walls it seemed, since he ended up letting you inside anyway.

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

You were fine enough, he supposed. You mostly kept to yourself, though you did seem to pick petty fights with him about the silliest of things.

After all, how was he to know it was uncouth to keep some spare human eyes in the fridge? It was for an experiment!

He wouldn't say he enjoyed being around you. But he tolerated it. It was for the greater good, after all (the greater good being the roof atop his head). It didn't come without it's problems, though.

The sound of your humming in the morning used to annoy him to pieces. The way your heels would click against the wooden floor sounded too piercing for him. The way you applied your rouge made him look at your lips for far longer than he found comfortable.

It took months before he could stand being in a room with you for more than an hour. Prior to that, he considered you too distracting to his work.

But, you were quiet. That was something he would be forever grateful for.

But that quietness hid so much, as well. He already knew everything he could deduce about you. Yet you hadn't even been phased when he correctly guessed the salon you went to on a monthly basis, or the way you picked at your skin suggesting a former smoking habit. You simply nodded, and went back to your work.

It infuriated him.

He could collect no new data.

This, he supposed, was the reason he wasn't fond of women. The initial deductions were absurdly easy, but anything deeper was much more well hidden than any man's. And it drove him crazy.

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

"Why did you choose this flat?!"

You sighed, audibly. Sherlock was at it again, asking questions you were sure he at least kind of knew the answers to. This time he was knocking on the door to your room, leaving you no method to escape.

After all, it was taboo for a woman to have an interest in crime. It was a practically a sin for women to learn science and study math.

You had known Sherlock wouldn't care. You had heard about him before, in the papers. An aloof man, living in the middle of Baker street, seen as both a hero and an outcast to the world.

The ad for a flat in the paper had intrigued you. Perhaps you could be near someone who shared your same interests? Maybe, you'd see him while walking to the store some day.

You had nearly keeled over in shock when it was THE Sherlock himself who opened the door to greet you.

But, it seemed true to never meet your heroes. Sherlock was rude on the best of days, and an ass on the worst of them. Dr. Watson was pleasant, but that did little to make up for Sherlock's tomfoolery.

You could tolerate it, though. You kept to your room most of the time, reading and experimenting on your own interests.

And, that was where you were at now, rolling your eyes at the idea of listening to him yelling at you through the door. The man had no social skills, which you were normally tolerant of, but this was too much.

You pulled open the door, a scowl on your face. He had interrupted the newest book you were reading, it was still clutched in your free hand, "Sherlock, I do not have the time for these dumb questions-"

You saw his face. His eyes were wide, brows lifted. Following his eyesight, he was seeing into your room.

Specifically, to the textbooks and experiments on your desk.

"You..." He seemed shocked. You don't think he's ever been shocked before, "Is this yours?"

You nodded, "I was TRYING to study the biochemistry of pigs blood compared to human's, but since you're so insistent on interrupting me, I guess I'll humor you."

His eyes lit up with every word you spoke. Hand slamming against the wood of the door, the man pushed himself past you, happier than you'd ever seen him.

"You even have the blood smear perfected. You have the right kind of charting..." He trailed off, observing your workstation, "Where is your microscope?"

You shrugged, a bit more intrigued than ticked off, "The shop down the street refused to sell me one, something about 'that crazy Holmes lad that keeps breaking each one he gets in stock'."

He grimaced for a moment, before perking up again, "I have a few spare ones in my own room. Give me a moment. I will be right back."

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

From there on, he found he actually enjoyed your company. You were a woman, sure, but you were akin to him, in a way. He found out your liking of forensics had gotten you outcast of your last flat, leaving you nowhere to go. No college of science in the country would accept a woman, either. In a way, his flat was your last hope, one that he wanted to keep safe no matter what.

Likewise, you found that this man gave you opportunities to see and experience so much more than you ever could have before. He supported your interests, instead of shunning them like the rest of the world had.

Maybe this arrangement wasn't too bad, after all.

[abstractfrog]

HI I JUST SAW YOUR INCREDIBLE SHERLOCK AND CO COMIC YOU MADE AND I WOULD LOVE FOR YOU TO TALK ABOUT THE PROCESS AND THE SYMBOLISM AND INTRICACIES AND EVERYTHING PLEASE ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

GOD THANK U ok if i actually talked about EVERYTHING i would be here forever and ever, there were things about the process where it kept surprising me and i kept adding stuff.

I talk about my general comic process here , it started out mostly the same for this one. Analysis of the script, sketches, panel and colour blocking

The scene from Mr Sherlock Holmes presented me with a unique challenge (for me) because...usually I pick scenes from the podcast that are instantly visually stimulating. This scene is NOT that. It's sort of unclear and confusing and even the emotive narrative is sort of hard to pick out. Those things I had to sort of decide for myself. It's hard to draw a whole scene like this without first deciding what the scene is about, what its purpose is. If you go back and listen to the episode along with the comic you'll notice all sorts of changes and tonal shifts - that's because of me and my decision making.

I decided that the direction I wanted to go in was to show John having his realization about himself, his podcast, and Sherlock, showing him getting pulled into, yes, Sherlock's world, but also the world of the podcast as an adaptation. I knew i could do this just with colour, but if you've seen my other comics, you know i almost always use colour to show shifts. I guess I had some insecurity about doing the same thing over and over again so I pushed myself to think of other ways I could accomplish it visual. Enter: rendering technique

I will say I didn't expect this effect to make John seem so SAD and MISERABLE, i only wanted to show him getting pulled in, but its effective for his emotions in this scene as well. Scanning drawings into the computer sort of flattens the paper texture, so I started adding photos of the pages of A Study in Scarlet to make him feel more paper-y. And then, of course, realised i could use that to further elaborate on John's inner thoughts, backgrounds, and motivations. People are welcome to interpreted that how they like and i've seen a number of variations, but to me it operates on sort of a meta level, showing the inevitability of what John is going through. He's a Watson, he's always going to follow Holmes, he's going to try and figure him out, and that's why you sort of see a back and forth between acd and pod Watson, highlighting the ways in which they are similar, and then, John breaks off and becomes his own character, still with those foundations but also entirely different.

there's one piece of text that i haven't seen anyone pick up on or mention and I'm starting to think it's gone unnoticed because it's in an unexpected spot. I won't mention what or where because it is, for now, a very indulgent little secret.

I notice a lot of people are getting a kick out of Sherlock playing with the speech bubbles, which I am so pleased by because I almost didn't do it! I thought i was maybe breaking something in the comic but it was so fun that i didn't care and I'm so glad it came across well. It operates on a lot of levels, it shows his thought process, it plays into that fourth-wall medium play i've got going on, and it feeds into the web metaphor as well as visually showing him roping John in.

on the topic of Sherlock, I feel a lot of people are rather focused on John, which is understandable (he's the main event) but Sherlock has a lot of details I love too.

For instance, him pushing his hair back and putting on a coat when the officer arrives, almost like he's shifted modes, and then his hair falling back down when he gets excited and John starts to understand.

I really love this moment of Sherlock seeing John's potential for interest in mysteries when he's trying to solve the matter of what Sherlock Does, and being surprised and flattered for a moment (until John messes it up again)

John copying Sherlock's pose <3

There's deliberate things in the character design as well, things like the fact that once John comes into colour, it reveals that he's actually wearing more colour than anyone else in the scene, and the fact that the grey in John's hair only appears post-greyscale. Things you are welcome to read into. And there are, of course, the socks, which I've seen people pick up on.

Those are the main things for now so i might leave it there, but thank you so much for your ask and i'd be pleased to elaborate further on absolutely anything!

[leosficlist]

Post Series 2 Rec List

Compiled for you here is a collection of BBC Johnlock stories that diverge from canon after the Reichenbach Falls, and Sherlock's time away. A few include Johnlock pre-TRF, but most focus on their relationship developing after Sherlock's return.

Phantom Vibrations by camerasparring 2.3k words

John knows exactly how Sherlock functions. Sherlock constantly needs to know where John is.

notes: fluffy, follows John recounting all the times Sherlock has disappeared on him until he returns for good

Always by addicted2hugh locked 6k words

A study in Sherlock, or: The years it took John Watson to fall in love

notes: their relationship pre and post reichenbach

The Zebra Sheets by agirlsname 13.7k words

Sherlock is back from the dead and he's exhausted. So is John. They go on a holiday to a faraway cottage and unexpected truths are revealed.

notes: loved the pacing, felt so dreamy and sensual, they just adore each other so much

Hesitance. by Ireallydontcare443 3k words

Sherlock begins to notice certain parts of his behaviour have changed... drastically, and eventually so does John.

notes: Sherlock has ptsd after returning from the fall, and John fumbles while trying to help him the best he can.

Practising by liriodendron 5.7k

"Sherlock Holmes’ return to 221B Baker Street had gone, initially, exactly as he had expected. Upon discovering him sprawled nonchalantly in the sitting room when returning from a shift at the surgery, John had punched him in the jaw. Twice. That had, of course, been a near inevitability and any other reaction would have been cause for worry."

notes: John is lovely, Sherlock goes a bit stir crazy with how much he loves John, John flirting and teasing Sherlock

as we are defined by the_arc5 4.8k words

People assume things about them, but nobody really gets it. Nobody really understands what they are. Of course, John isn't quite sure he understands, either.

notes: John thinking he is worth nothing to Sherlock and pining for him before the fall, getting together after Sherlock's return

Pulse by FinAmour 3.5k words

“I can’t believe you left me this way,” he says to me with an expression of immeasurable sadness. “And there are countless things I need to know.”

Heaving a sigh, he tightens his grip around my wrists. “But not now. All I need to know now, Sherlock, is that you're real.”

He stands there silently, eyes closed, feeling the beat of my heart at his fingertips, and he doesn’t let go for a very long time.

Sweet Thing by peevee 2.4k

In the living room, jars covered every surface.

Clusters of them - every shade from the palest gold to treacly black - on the floor and on the tables, piled on the mantelpiece and on the chairs.

notes: Sherlock nudging himself back into John's life after the fall, no Mary, kissing covered in honey

Survival Instinct by shirleyholmes 7.1k words

Prompt: After Sherlock's "comeback" John starts obsessing with constantly making sure he's alive (checking his heartbeat etc.)

“Don’t. Just- come in. It’s cold and—you look like you came—“

“Back from the dead?” Sherlock suggested.

notes: checking pulse, John coping with Sherlocks return, nightmares, overall fluff

Victory Shag by loveanddeathandartandtaxes for scullyseviltwin 3.5k

It becomes habit. Solve a stressful case; have sex.

notes: fwb to lovers

Things We Swore We'd Never Do by liriodendron 2.7k words

After hunting down the last of Moriarty's network, Sherlock finally returns home to John. John's response surprises them both. Not entirely devoid of emotional content, but pretty much PWP.

' “Okay…” said John slowly, straightening his shirt. “That was…um…unexpected.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe we should…talk…?”

“Talk. Yes. Definitely,” Sherlock agreed absently, eyes fixed on John like a hawk’s, watching his every movement.

“Good, yes, quite… we should…sit and…talk…”

And then they collided again, as if drawn by an elemental force.'

The Mission to Flirt by MutedSilence 9k words

Turns out John has been staring at Sherlock like a love sick teen. Greg decides that John just needs to flirt. So, he does. Sort of. He certainly tried to at least.

notes: lighthearted, found from searching ‘fluff’ & ‘first kiss’, John figuring out how to flirt with Sherlock

All This Time by stopthat 3.6k words

It’s something we struggle with, still, after all this time.

“We share a life,” John says, eyes searching. “Have you ever wanted anything more from me?”

notes: first ch is Sherlock's pov, second ch is John's pov, stumbling love confessions and first kiss.

Quickly Run Away by stopthat 5.3k words

A few weeks after Sherlock's return, he drags John to his childhood home in Yorkshire. There's just something about the place. It says a lot about how Sherlock views their relationship, he supposes, that he’s brought him here—or it would, if it were anyone else.

Lush by stopthat 3.6k words

They stare at each other for entirely too long, suddenly unwilling to break their shared gaze.  John looks, as he often does, like he has something to say.  But then the barman flips on the overhead bulbs, dousing the pub in horrible fluorescent light, and with a small sigh he stands, a bit wobbly on his feet, and hauls Sherlock up with him.

[gregorovitch-adler]

Messy

John turned off the microphone and sighed. He placed it on the side table beside his armchair and sat back in an almost dark room.

Sherlock, John and Mariana had been working on another case.

It was quite late, so Mariana had gone to bed in 221 A. John had been in the sitting room of 221 B, ruminating about his podcasting skills to himself.

John looked at Sherlock - who was sitting in his armchair across the room with his eyes closed - and inevitably began to think the differences between the two of them.

Must be different, being so perfect at almost everything, John thought, continuing to gaze at Sherlock.

Perfect analytical and observational skills needed to solve the cases, perfect timbre of the voice, perfect enunciations, and...

John had obviously noticed it a million times before but now he had to admit it.

... Perfect looks.

Not that John was jealous of all that (okay, maybe a little, but not too much), but now and then he would think that he made a wrong career choice as a podcaster after having served as an army doctor.

Oftentimes he would think that maybe he was better off as a general practitioner now that he was a civillian himself.

A comparatively ordinary job, without anyone else to work for or with.

Would that life suit him better?

John furrowed his brow at those thoughts.

"I won't be able to sleep if you keep your eyes on me the whole night," said Sherlock with his eyes still closed.

John parted his lips and got up from his chair, feeling heated around his face. "Oh, sorry. I'll, er, I'll just go upstairs. You should go to bed too, mate. Aren't you - aren't you uncomfortable here?"

John mentally kicked himself for stuttering yet again.

"No, stop. I could hear you thinking from across the room, just now." Sherlock finally opened his eyes and sat straight on his chair, looking at John intensely. "There is something on your mind, Watson. I need to know what."

John was taken aback by the kind of intensity he saw in Sherlock's eyes. He gave in. "Well, it's just that..." he trailed off.

A brief silence fell in the room as Sherlock and John locked their eyes together. Sherlock got up from his chair and walked over to John so he could be close to him.

"What is it?" Sherlock prompted.

"Am I doing this right?" John finally spoke, taking in irregular breaths.

"Doing what right?" Sherlock was looking at him with confusion.

"This whole podcast thing. I mean, I make it so awkward for our listeners sometimes. And half of the time my jokes don't even seem to land well." John gesticulated widely. "And, um, even after all that editing and cutting out the extra bits, the end result isn't flawless. It's so messy and imperfect."

Sherlock stared at John blankly for a moment. He then opened his arms wide looking at him with an awkward face. "Is it okay if we..."

John caught on. "Uh, yeah, sure," he said with his brow knitted.

They both wrapped their arms around each other. John's one arm was around his waist, and he ran his other arm over Sherlock's back. Sherlock's arms were around his shoulders.

John managed to place his chin on Sherlock's shoulder and sighed.

"The end result is not what we listen to," Sherlock began in a calm voice in John's ear. "The end result is the response of our listeners. How is it?"

John smiled. "Really good, so far, overall."

"There you go."

John felt Sherlock smile against his right shoulder.

They let each other go, but they were still holding hands, looking at each other deeply in the eye.

"Even if that weren't the case, I would not have cared."

"And why is that?" John asked, still looking at his friend with a smile.

"Because I like you as you are."

John chuckled, followed by Sherlock.

John turned around to make his way to his bedroom, already feeling loads better than before.

*

Prompt: Imperfect by @calaisreno

Tags: @helloliriels , @jamielovesjam , @topsyturvy-turtely , @keirgreeneyes , @totallysilvergirl , @lisbeth-kk , @peanitbear , @gaylilsherlock , @friday411 etc.

[talkativeanxiousturtle]

A quirk of the dynamic John-Sherlock-Mycroft that I particularly appreciate toying with in my rewrite, is that they play out like a game of Rock-Paper-Scissor.

The story of John and Sherlock, fundamentally, is about the relationship between the two men. They ADORE one another. But, at least at first, John doesn't really see Sherlock as... Well, human. An equal. Sherlock doesn't, either, but in the other direction. John has this first impression of Sherlock as a great genius, nearly a God amongst men. He's above feelings, above mistakes. He could fix just about any problem if he so-chose. Now, with that said, one could argue that John should therefore hold Holmes to a higher standard of behaviour, but to John, living with this tall child is a necessary cost of watching the God up close. That all fades away, with time. Sherlock begins seeing him as his equal (more than past S3 imo) instead of his little pet to do his bidding, pretty quickly in fact, but John takes a bit more time to stop worshipping Sherlock. I don't think he ever truly does. Sherlock is just so sharp, John feels his very purpose was to write about it. Socrates and Plato. The Scissors and the Paper.

Now Sherlock, on the other hand, worships only his own mind, or so he would like us to believe. And since the narrative is from John's perspective in most iterations, we tend to fall for it, at least at first. Then, inevitably, Mycroft is introduced. A man so smart Sherlock feels like a fool in comparison. And not just any fool, either. Mycroft is stern, calm, cold, and calculated. He's all that Sherlock could be, if it weren't for those damn emotions of his! But Mycroft is above all that. Mycroft is perfect. Mycroft. Is. God. You've heard of little siblings idolizing their elders, but that's to a whole other level with the Holmes brothers. Sherlock cannot even look at Mycroft without feeling like Lucifer, cast out of Heaven, replaced by this perfect angel beyond his own comprehension. It drives him mad, he just wants to cut him where it hurts, bring him down a notch, but it's pointless. Mycroft is too solid. He takes it all without as much as a glare. The Scissors and the Rock.

That's all well and good, you might say, this little cycle of worship and awe and "how can you be human", but it seems we've reached the end. Mycroft doesn't respect anyone's intelligence as much as his own, and CERTAINLY doesn't worship anyone!... Except... Think about it. All his life, or rather, Sherlock's, Mycroft has had but one goal (especially true in my version); to protect his little brother. From the rest of the world, certes, but mostly from himself. Deep down, Mycroft knows Sherlock is brilliant, perhaps even close to on par with him. But he lacks any sense of self-preservation or impulse control, whatsoever. Do you KNOW how terrifying it is, to care for a genius child with volatile emotions and no fear of God? Mycroft had to put it in him, he just had no choice, you see. Sure, getting his little brother to view him as an all-powerful, all-seeing, all-controlling figure might not have been the best move for their relationship. But Mycroft would sacrifice anything for Sherlock's safety, even his image in the mind of he who matters most. So you can imagine how FRUSTRATING Sherlock's insistence at risking his life for a daily thrill can get! And don't get Mycroft started on his eating habits, or his drug usage, and God damn does he even sleep enough– Until he meets John. Until Sherlock meets John, that is. And suddenly, his little brother is four, five, six months sober. For the first time since he began using. And suddenly, Sherlock isn't taking as many risks when working his little puzzles, doesn't want harm to come to Watson, so he says. And suddenly, Sherlock looks healthier, happier... Safer. After a lifetime of seeking this outcome, Mycroft still hadn't achieved it. And this man, this doctor, this... John managed the impossible in a matter of weeks. How could Mycroft NOT worship him, a little? He doesn't always agree with his approach, of course. He finds John too soft on Sherlock, too pliable. A mind so sharp requires cold, hard discipline! And yet, Sherlock always opts to obey John instead of his brother. And eventually, so does Mycroft. Sure, he still tries to argue from time to time, but in the end, when it comes to taking care of Sherlock, what John says goes. And anyone who knows anything about Mycroft knows just how divine that is. The Paper beats Rock.

For those of you wondering where Lestrade fits in all this, I guess he'd be like, a hammer? The main difference to me between Mystrade and Johnlock, is that Lestrade doesn't start out worshiping Mycroft, quiiiite the opposite. So the hammer breaks rock, can also rip the paper, but I suppose the scissors can... Cut... The handle?? I don't know. Lestrade is weird. He really shifts the dynamic between those three, because he admires Sherlock as much as John does, but he also sees him as just a kid, kind of like Mycroft does. And then Mycroft is impressed Greg got so much respect from the other two, and is a bit jelly if we're honest, but like... He doesn't exactly fear him the way he low-key fears John (especially after S2E4, in my version. God I can't wait to publish this shit!). And John is simultaneously like "whoa, you knew him before, and he actually listens to you (because John doesn't even realize the power he holds)?" and like "damn, you knew him before, and in all that time you didn't recognize how transcendantly amazing he is? Smh 🙄". And those are two very contradicting positions.

I think it shows Greg is one of the characters I changed the most for this. That's because he's way more important to the overarching plot, and he actually ~has an arc~, so.

[weast-of-eden]

it seems like some people actually liked my last fic rec, so here's another one, guys! this time i tried finding some fics that were a little different, like AUs, different POVs, rarepairs, WIPs, etc. again, these are pretty all set in canonverse (ACD or Granada) or victorian era unless specified otherwise. so without further ado, here is:

Eden’s ACD/Granada Unique Fic Recommendations

And With Him Disaster by eggshellseas (@/maxwelljacobfriedman on tumblr) 14k | Rated E Summary: John Watson is being stalked by a vampire. Notes: not-your-mother's vampire au, that's for sure. definitely read the tags before getting into this but man, this fic is so, so good. features not only vampire!holmes but also dark!holmes and it's a ride from beginning to end. ugh i want to talk more about this fic but i can't spoil anything!!

Into darkness then without a candle by Solshine (@/thehumantrampoline on tumblr) 10k | Rated T Summary: At first, Moriarty is just a disguise, like all the rest in his wardrobe; a helpful alias to bring Holmes closer to the evils he duels. And then the disguise wins at the Reichenbach Falls. AU inspired by the stage play, “The Secret of Sherlock Holmes." Notes: i can't even get into this. I CAN'T EVEN GET INTO THISSSS. there are no words. if there were, the word would be: UGH. this is such a unique fic and watson really pulls through in this. I CAN'T EVEN GET INTO THIS RIGHT NOW.

Back to Edinburgh by mightymads 4k | Rated T Summary: The Jezail bullet in Watson’s leg causes him so much pain that he is on the verge of despair. London doctors deem it impossible to extract the bullet without inevitable nerve damage. Holmes finds a surgeon in Edinburgh, who agrees to help. It is none other than Professor Joseph Bell. Notes: Dr. Bell says 'gay rights'! also Scottish Watson for the win! this is such a beautiful story, Watson really gets to take the center stage while Holmes gets to worry for his well-being. oh how the tables have turned. plus lots of ACD's personal life mixed with Watson's own, which I think makes this such a unique fic. it's just really nice to read. *chef's kiss*

The Red Notebook by Garonne 10k | Rated T Summary: Holmes is dead, or seems to be. Watson starts to write, and Mycroft starts to read. Holmes/Watson slash set during the Hiatus. Mycroft's POV. Notes: i LOVE Mycroft POVs, and this is one of my favorites. also i love fics that depict watson's stories as completely false, like Moriarty is not real and 'The Final Problem' was just john's way of coping. STELLAR FIC.

Some Power of Selection by wordybirdy 12k | Rated E Summary: John Watson is a struggling doctor in recent practice on London's Upper Wimpole Street. One dreary Wednesday, an urgent telegram summons him to 221B Baker Street, where he meets a sombre and initially taciturn gentleman by the name of Sherlock Holmes. Sparks immediately fly – but not of the positive, life-affirming variety... Notes: enemies to lovers AU for the win! Stamford is such a knob in this one, truly. but that's okay, our heroes figure themselves out anyways. great banter in this one, if you like rom-coms then this is the fic for you!

One Page Is Missing by PlaidAdder 2k | Rated T Summary: "From this point onward I will follow the course of events by transcribing my own letters to Mr. Sherlock Holmes which lie before me on the table. One page is missing, but otherwise they are exactly as written and show my feelings and suspicions of the moment more accurately than my memory, clear as it is upon these tragic events, can possibly do." --The Hound of the Baskervilles, Chapter 8 **** This is the missing page. Notes: ok first of all you should read all of PlaidAdder’s Missing Pages series, it’s so beautifully written. this is the first of the series and the premise is so interesting and mysterious! this fic is for any fans of HOUN (me) or enjoyers of jealous Holmes (also me)

On the Orbits of Asteroids by Sheila_Snow 22k | Rated E Summary: Watson has a secret from his past that he's kept from Holmes, but the past has a tendency to come back and haunt you. Notes: Watson/Moriarty fic. yes you read that correctly and YES it's crazy good. there's still holmes/watson but it's angsty and– i can't even get into it, you just gotta read for yourself. also feat. Moran who is currently questioning his sexuality (yeah watson will do that to you mate)

The Better Part of Valour by rachelindeed 7k | Rated T Summary: Mr Melas considers himself a coward, but more than one man's courage comes with complicated cracks. Notes: for any fans of 'The Greek Interpreter' (aka ME) this fic is the coolest ever. POV from Melas, who is smart, witty, and very observant. you get to meet Paul Kratides when he's not in the middle of being tortured, plus the ANGSTIEST background story about Watson's war injury. Oof. But I literally love this fic guys pwease read it

☆The Adventure of the Purloined Heart by ladyblahblah (@/hungrylikethewolfie on tumblr) 15k | Rated M Summary: A gruesome murder unveils secrets kept buried for years. Some feelings can only be hidden for so long. Notes: This fic checks every single box for me. HOLY SHIT. It's got murder, mystery, intrigue; it's got pining, secrets, and unrequited (?) love. I think the reason I'm so unwell about this fic is because it's a WIP that ends on a doozy of a cliffhanger. if god loves me he will let this fic be finished one day. IT'S SO GOOD GUYS PLEASE READ THIS FIC. in my ao3 history is says 'visited 12 times in the past month.' what is wrong with me

i hope someone out there enjoys these! also i was going to tag the authors whose tumblrs i knew, but then i chickened out, so... sue me i guess?

also if there’s any AUs, tropes, or somesuch fics you wish existed but can’t find, feel free to ask me!! maybe i’ve read something you’re looking for :)

[swissmissficrecs]

Johnlock fics I read in 2023

This is everything I read in the Sherlock Holmes fandom last year that made it into my bookmarks. So while I may not have read enough to make a selected "best of" list, consider these the ones that made it past all my internal selection criteria and are deserving of a spotlight. A few of these were completed prior to 2023.

A Case of You by Silvergirl (17K, M, Johnlock, Sherlock/OMC) Sherlock is marrying an American, and at the rehearsal dinner, best man John makes a drunken love confession he doesn’t remember the next day. Badly hungover, John can't find anyone to tell him what the hell happened to the wedding, where the grooms are, or how he can put it right so that Sherlock can be happy. But what if he's dead wrong about what will make Sherlock happy?

A Midnight Clear by khorazir (16K, T, Johnlock) It’s Christmas Eve, and Sherlock is working. Because that’s what he does. He doesn’t need Christmas, or holiday cheer, or even company. He’s fine on his own, thank you very much – until a series of strange encounters on his way back to Baker Street makes him reconsider.

A Story That Is Almost, But Not Quite, Entirely Unlike Blue Carbuncle by Iwantthatcoat (16K, M, Johnlock) It’s the most wonderful time of the year, and the Holmes Family is all set to have one of those unimaginable Christmas dinners— but the game is afoot, as Mummy’s friend is caught up in a Christmas mystery.

An Elegant Solution by ArwaMachine (19K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock finds himself unspeakably aroused by the idea of John with another man. Problem is, the only man Sherlock will permit be with John is Sherlock himself. Seems like an unsolvable problem. ... or is it?

An Ocean Away by westernredcedar (14K, T, Johnlock) Sherlock Holmes has been gone for twenty long years, time enough for John Watson's daughter to make it all the way to Harvard University.

Avast Ye Merry Gentlemen by StellaCartography (10K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock is not a Christmas person. John decides it's Christmas that needs changing.

Bright Blue Ink by 13_33 (13K, G, Johnlock, Warstan) When one of my patients asks me about my relationship with Sherlock Holmes, the great detective, I answer this: I am his chronicler, his assistant in solving crimes, his confidant and friend. Of course, all these terms hold true, now as then, at the beginning of our shared history. But just as in a family portrait you can only see the put-on smiles and never the real faces of the people, they were only part of what made up my true relationship with Holmes. I know him, I then add; I know him well. [ACD]

Deductive Reasoning by cormorant (8K, T, Johnlock) John finds out that Sherlock has assumed for a while that their relationship was romantic, and feels like maybe he should have been notified about that.

Doting Husbands by Calais_Reno (16K, M, Johnlock) Sherlock takes on a new hobby: writing a story. If only something would happen! Takes place a year after the ending of Wooing Sherlock Holmes. He and John have been married for a year, still retired, living in Sussex.

Full Mount by ArwaMachine (54K, E, Johnlock) After Sherlock unceremoniously returns from the dead, John finds himself inexplicably angry all the time. So he does what any emotionally-constipated British man does: he joins a Mixed Martial Arts gym. As John throws himself into the sport and joins in on underground no-holds-barred brawls, situations arise that just might force John to face what is really going on underneath all the rage.

Indefinite Lines by ArwaMachine (298K, E, Johnlock) When two lines, inclined towards each other, are extended indefinitely, it is inevitable that they meet. Upon meeting, the lines become something new. Together. Perhaps it’s been like that from the beginning for Sherlock and John—their lives weaving together, inclined towards one another, moving closer and closer to something greater than themselves.

Live from the Morgue by disfictional (8K, E, Johnlock) Molly interviews Sherlock on her podcast, Live from the Morgue. John listens.

Lost In A Good Book by khorazir (68K, M, Johnlock) After chasing a criminal into a poky second-hand bookshop, John and Sherlock find themselves not only stuck in the building, but in L-space itself. With things still raw and unsettled between them after the events surrounding the Culverton Smith case, this adds another dimension to their predicament, which not only consists of finding a way out of the shop (while avoiding getting murdered by the criminal), but also to finally address the issues between them.

Nightjet by khorazir (22K, M, Johnlock) Officially deceased for eighteen months and still looking for the last remainders of Moriarty’s criminal empire, an exhausted Sherlock boards a night train in Germany to bring him to his next hunting ground. Due to a mishap with the sleeper cars, he is forced to share a compartment with a stranger – who turns out to be not quite as strange as Sherlock thought. The universe isn’t lazy, after all …

Nothing to Celebrate by DiscordantWords (30K, M, Johnlock, Warstan) Sherlock Holmes is back from the dead. Things only get worse from there.

Our Ghosts And This by LipstickDaddy (12K, T, Johnlock) An epilogue in three acts.

Primavera by Berty (9K, T, Johnlock) Italy in the springtime is as romantic as it gets but is it enough to free unspoken words and feelings after years of silence?

Salut d'Amour by ecoutes (11K, G, Johnlock) Despite Holmes claiming that my narrations of our cases were tainted with sentimentality, his preferences in music, I learned, were awfully romantic. [ACD]

Spare Parts by Raina_at (63K, E, Johnlock) Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them.

stirringofbirds between my arms by NotusLethe (18K, E, Johnlock, Enola/Tewksbury) Over the years, John Watson gets to know his new flatmate, Sherlock Holmes, and the man's clever ward. [Enola Holmes]

Stretch by illwick (13K, E, Johnlock) Sometimes the lines get blurry. [Part 35 of a BDSM established relationship series]

The Adventure of The Reluctant Docent by mydogwatson (23K, T, Johnlock) Someone is killing the docents of London. Sherlock is on the case when he meets a very interesting docent.

The Case of the Freudian Dick Pic Slip by expoduck (11K, E, Johnlock) John accidentally sends Sherlock a dick pic he'd intended for another man.

The Mystery of the Missing Metallurgist by rudbeckia (14K, M, Johnlock) A young wife engages Holmes to find her missing husband. Lestrade thinks the man has absconded to America, but Holmes rises to the challenge of Proving Lestrade Wrong. The case turns out to be far more complex and dangerous than they first thought, and Holmes sends Watson to secure Lestrade’s help in bringing a criminal gang to justice. When Holmes gets injured, Watson realises where his heart lies and a little lighthearted banter leads to a tentative confession. [ACD]

The Silence Between the Notes by J_Baillier (44K, M, Johnlock, Viclock) Lieutenant John Watson's days in London are painted in shades of grey after losing both his military career and his family. Could an unexpected request to travel to Vienna to track down the errant son of a wealthy family break the monotony?

The Wizard of Baker Street by Calais_Reno (23K, T, Johnlock) In which Sherlock is a wizard under a curse and John spends a lot of time as a cat.

‘tis the damn season by chrysanthemumsies (22K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock and John travel to Edinburgh to catch a homophobic serial killer in time for Christmas. They figure out how to use their words, more or less.

Trapezoid by SilentAuror (27K, E, Johnlock, OMC/ OMC) Corey Graham invites John and Sherlock to visit L.A. to consult on a project… at least, officially.

Yorkshire by lurikko (8K, E, Johnlock) They're in Yorkshire, in a house in the moors, for a case, only Sherlock keeps touching John. [Omegaverse]

[dross-the-fish]

So, since Adam is such a long-lived being, he'd be doomed to vastly outlive almost anyone he ended up in a long-term relationship with, right? How would he handle the inevitability of that?

"Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me..." - The Creature

at 130 he's not naive about mortality anymore and he feels the impermanence of everyone around him. After a time he grows to accept it. He knows Watson will not be with him long so he continues to stay with Watson and becomes his caretaker in old age. He keeps contact with each of his other friends for as long as he has them and mourns them when they are gone. As much as it pains him he treasures the heartbreak too because he has learned that grief is part of love and he understands, after the first loss of someone who was truly a loved one, just how much pain he inflicted on Victor. In a way experiencing that loss for himself brings him a sense of closure over Victor that he hadn't had before. Where he once hated humanity for their rejection of him he learns to love them again, and despite knowing that relationships will be fleeting he continues to seek them out and cherish them for the time he has no matter how short it is.

[witchofhellridge]

Fanfiction: Sherlock Holmes and The Case of Curious Celebration

The early morning sunlight filtered through the foggy London air, casting a soft glow over 221B Baker Street. Inside the cozy apartment, Mrs. Hudson hummed to herself as she set the kettle on the stove. Today was no ordinary day, though it would take a man of Sherlock Holmes' peculiar genius to uncover that. Mrs. Hudson was not in her usual quiet mood-no, today she was brimming with the kind of secret anticipation reserved for grand schemes.

Watson descended the stairs, a small grin tugging at his lips. He entered the kitchen and nodded to Mrs. Hudson, whose conspiratorial smile grew wide as she handed him a cup of tea.

"All set, Mrs. Hudson?" Watson whispered, his eyes twinkling.

She gave an enthusiastic nod. "Everything is prepared. Oh, Dr. Watson, do you think he'll notice right away?"

Watson chuckled softly. "Sherlock? He'll suspect something in ten minutes, no doubt. But if we play it right, we might still catch him by surprise."

"Goodness me, I do hope so," Mrs. Hudson said, her voice a tad breathless. "He's never celebrated a birthday before, has he?"

"Not that I know of," Watson replied, sipping his tea. "And believe me, I've tried. He insists it's frivolous, but I have a feeling this might finally break his icy demeanor."

They both shared a knowing glance. The plan had been laid out over the past week with meticulous care, worthy of Holmes' own standards of precision and planning. Small puzzles scattered about the apartment would lead him to his inevitable fate: a birthday celebration, whether he liked it or not. Each clue would seem disconnected, but they would all converge in one unexpected conclusion.

Watson placed his cup down and stood straight. "It's time."

As if on cue, Sherlock Holmes emerged from his room upstairs, his dressing gown flaring like a cape behind him. His sharp eyes darted from Watson to Mrs. Hudson, instantly detecting the shift in atmosphere. He narrowed his gaze suspiciously, but said nothing as he walked past them, heading for the sitting room.

"Morning, Sherlock!" Watson said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "I trust you slept well?"

Sherlock paused mid-step, tilting his head slightly. "A strange question, Watson. What are you up to?"

"Me? Up to something? I'm insulted," Watson replied with feigned indignation. He busied himself by picking up a medical journal from the armchair and flipping it open, though he could feel Sherlock's piercing gaze upon him.

Mrs. Hudson, clearly struggling to maintain her composure, excused herself in a flurry. "Oh, I must fetch something from the kitchen!" she called over her shoulder as she practically bolted from the room.

Sherlock arched an eyebrow. "Suspicious," he muttered, folding his arms. "Very suspicious indeed."

Before Sherlock could probe further, a knock came at the door.

"Ah, that must be the post!" Watson said, leaping up a little too eagerly. Sherlock's eyes narrowed again. Watson's behavior was off-unnaturally chipper and too quick to act. Sherlock moved to the window, peering through the curtains as Watson retrieved the letter.

"How curious," Watson said, holding up the envelope. "It's addressed to you, Sherlock."

Holmes strode over, snatched the letter from Watson's hand, and examined it with keen interest. The envelope was plain, save for a rather smudged postmark, and the handwriting was unfamiliar. Sherlock opened it swiftly, eyes darting over the note inside. His brow furrowed.

"Interesting," he muttered. "A riddle."

Watson leaned in. "What does it say?"

Sherlock read aloud: "'What is seen once in a lifetime, twice in a moment, but never in a hundred years?'"

Watson feigned a thoughtful expression. "A curious puzzle, Sherlock."

"It's an elementary riddle," Sherlock replied, his tone clipped. "The answer is the letter 'M.' But why would someone bother sending me such a trivial thing?" He tapped the note against his palm, looking perplexed. "I despise this kind of petty amusement."

Watson suppressed a grin. The game was already afoot.

Holmes, never one to leave any mystery unsolved, was already turning the letter over, searching for more clues. A small slip of paper fell from the envelope, and Sherlock caught it with practiced ease.

"There's more," he murmured, unfolding the scrap of paper. "An address."

It led to a small shop not far from Baker Street. Sherlock's eyes gleamed with curiosity, though he would never admit it outright. Before Watson could utter another word, Sherlock was already reaching for his coat.

"Are you coming, Watson, or are you going to sit there all day with that insufferable smirk on your face?"

Watson hurried to his feet, grabbing his own coat. "Of course, Sherlock. Wouldn't miss it."

***

The small shop turned out to be an antiquarian's curiosity, filled with trinkets and oddities, the sort of place where one might stumble upon a forgotten treasure-or an elaborate prank. The bell above the door jingled as they entered, and a wizened old man looked up from behind the counter.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes," the shopkeeper said with a crooked smile. "I've been expecting you."

"Have you now?" Sherlock asked, his tone icy. "And why might that be?"

The old man chuckled and reached under the counter, producing a small box wrapped in brown paper. "This arrived for you early this morning. Special delivery."

Holmes took the package without hesitation and tore away the paper. Inside was another note, this one much more cryptic than the last: "From the place where the hands of time do not move, look beneath what has long since passed."

Sherlock's eyes flickered with intrigue, though he kept his face impassive. Watson could see the gears turning in his friend's mind.

"Watson, we're going back to Baker Street," Sherlock declared, his voice sharp. "I know where this leads." ***

Back at 221B Baker Street, Sherlock wasted no time. He moved with precision, scanning the room until his eyes settled on the old grandfather clock by the window. With swift movements, he pulled it away from the wall, revealing a dusty ledger hidden beneath. Inside the ledger was a third note: "The key is hidden where stories are spun, and the game is won."

"Stories are spun?" Sherlock muttered, his brow furrowing. "The answer must be the bookshelf." He crossed the room in quick strides, running his fingers along the spines of the volumes. His hand paused over one particular book-an anthology of old folktales. He tugged it free, and from the pages, a small brass key dropped into his hand.

"Another key," he said, holding it up to the light. "But to what?"

Watson, leaning against the mantel, did his best to suppress his amusement. "What do you think, Sherlock? Where could it possibly lead?"

Sherlock shot him a sharp glance, then pocketed the key. "It's time to solve this. There's only one place left to check."

Without further explanation, he strode upstairs to his own room. Watson followed, heart racing in anticipation.

Inside Sherlock's bedroom, the detective immediately approached his locked trunk, where he kept various personal effects and important case documents. The brass key fit perfectly in the lock, and with a twist, the trunk popped open.

Inside, to Sherlock's visible confusion, was a cake. A cake adorned with candles and a small note tucked into the icing that read: "Happy Birthday, Sherlock!"

Watson, unable to hold back his laughter any longer, clapped Sherlock on the shoulder. "Surprise!"

Sherlock blinked, staring at the cake as if it were a bomb waiting to explode. "A... cake?"

Mrs. Hudson appeared in the doorway, beaming. "Oh, Mr. Holmes, I do hope you're not too cross. It's just that we thought-"

Sherlock held up a hand, silencing her mid-sentence. He looked from the cake to Watson, then back to Mrs. Hudson. "You planned all of this?"

Watson nodded. "It was Mrs. Hudson's idea, really. I merely assisted. A little birthday surprise, Sherlock."

For a moment, Sherlock stood in stunned silence, as if his mind were processing the concept of a birthday celebration. Then, to Watson's great astonishment, Sherlock let out a small, reluctant chuckle.

"I see," he said, though his voice still held a trace of bemusement. "So this entire day-the riddles, the clues-they were all leading to this?"

"Precisely," Watson said, smiling. "Happy Birthday, Sherlock."

Sherlock sighed, but there was a softness in his expression, a faint gleam in his eyes. "You know, Watson," he said, picking up a fork and examining the cake with the same scrutiny he would reserve for a crime scene, "I think I despise birthdays a little less now."

And with that, Sherlock Holmes, the greatest detective in London, took a bite of cake, much to Mrs. Hudson's and Watson's delight.

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024 #5, awkward

Read part one (using the prompt “box”) here

Read part two (using the prompt “familiar”) here

Read part three (using the prompt “fall”) here

++++++

Some of you anticipated or suggested this or possibly wished it to happen and with today’s prompt, well, it was sort of inevitable really.

Time for some (sort of) testing! Here we go…

++++++

The Perfect Place - Part Four

“Ah, I see.” John nodded wisely.

(John did not. But he supposed a successful salesman should never ever admit that he had not understood one word of what the client had said.)

Sherlock hummed appreciatingly. John is so clever, he thought, understanding me even I don’t.

“Position in, erm,” John fake-cleared his throat, “of the bed is very important.”

John scratched his neck. God, this was so awkward. All these verbal slips. Thankfully the customer wasn’t fazed by his terrible blundering. Maybe he hadn’t even heard because he was currently focusing on stroking his right hand lovingly over the silky covering of the bed. Up and down. In circles, too.

Sherlock sighed. “It’s so smooth.” (Wishing he could be able to stroke the skin on John’s neck.) “I like how it feels,” he added and wondered if John would be this soft as well.

John, jealous of the bed once more, wished he could swap places with the lucky furniture. The beautiful man caressed its fabric as if it carried a lover’s skin.

Suddenly the client stiffened the index and middle finger of his right hand and forcefully stabbed them into the mattress. Multiple times.

The boxsprings creaked a tiny little bit. The sound was deafeningly loud in the silence of the bed shop.

Both men stared transfixed at the moving fingers, deeply lost in thought. How seamlessly they glided in and out of the mattress. And in. And out again.

(Actually, they were both thinking about lube. Albeit being applied in different scenarios.)

“It’s delightfully rigid.” Sherlock panted a bit due to the physical exertion. (It was a mental one, in fact.) “But the creaking of the boxsprings could be bothersome when I turn around in the bed.” (Meaning while having sex.)

“Does your bed often creak when you turn in it?” New beads of sweat had formed on John’s fore head. (Having imagined turning in snych with the customer.)

Looking down, John realized that he had also mimicked the gesture, as in stiffening two of his fingers while stabbing at the air. (His hand had been perfectly steady while doing so.)

John quickly shoved his hand in the pocket of his trousers in an effort to hide the evidence. (What his still rigid fingers found in there was some other kind of evidence.)

“I’m versatile in my positions.” Sherlock blinked, slightly confused. Was that the correct answer to John’s question? (To be clear, Sherlock did not lie. He was versatile in bed. Verily so.)

John coughed. “Yes, well, that’s only a matter of choosing the correct set of boxsprings according to the distribution of body weight on the mattress.”

John congratulated himself on coming up with this brilliant answer. Being alert in tight situations had always been his forte. (Inside his trousers John was alert and tight, too.) It sounded absolutely logical and also offered him a most welcome opening to finally ask the question that had burned on his tongue for some time.

“Would there usually be more than one person using this bed on a daily basis?” Oh yes, very smart and artful like the good old Three-Continents-Watson, John mentally patted himself on the shoulder.

Staring at John, Sherlock said, “No, currently it’s just me.” (Hoping this would change soon.)

Feeling bold about heading into the right direction, John risked inquiring further and took a dare. “You don’t have a boyfriend, then? Which is fine by the way.”

“I know it’s fine.” Sherlock huffed, “Or it would be if I had one.” Like you, Sherlock added in his mind.

The first bead of sweat finally dripped off John’s fore head. He felt hot (and bothered) and a wave of intense longing threatened to wash him away. Let me be the one, he pleaded internally.

+++++

tagging some people @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @peanitbear @raina-at

[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)

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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.

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[mariana-oconnor]

The Final Problem pt 2

Last time, Holmes turned up at Watson's home having survived three attempts on his life and a mysterious meeting with ex-Professor Moriarty, and invited Watson on an impromptu trip abroad. Watson, of course, said yes. I am absolutely sure that nothing bad is going to happen to either them. Definitely not in Switzerland. Maybe they'll see a nice waterfall, though. I've heard Switzerland is beautiful this time of year.

Watson does very well at remembering Holmes' instructions. I would not be able to do that.

I spent a few minutes in assisting a venerable Italian priest, who was endeavouring to make a porter understand, in his broken English, that his luggage was to be booked through to Paris.

Is Holmes pretending to be an Italian priest? I feel like Watson should be more aware of the possibility of a disguise.

Also, the fact it turns out that Watson's Italian is terrible. Holmes totally chose that disguise to troll the fuck out of him. A+ friendship move, even when running for his life.

"My dear Watson," said a voice, "you have not even condescended to say good-morning."

Yeah, so rude. How dare you not say hello to your friend who is clearly sitting right there and not at all an Italian priest.

"They set fire to our rooms last night. No great harm was done."

First: how dare! Baker Street, my beloved! Second: despite the fact that it has been clearly established in part 1 that Watson is very married and very living with his wife rn, Holmes still refers to them as 'our rooms'.

"It was my brother Mycroft. It is an advantage to get about in such a case without taking a mercenary into your confidence."

OK, so he did appear in this story... actually doing something for once. This is a clear sign that things must be dire if Mycroft has pried his seal-like form from his well worn chair in the Diogenes Club to drive a carriage through the streets of London. Honestly, I feel like there should be a system of measurement for direness that is purely how much Mycroft is willing to move to deal with it.

"As this is an express, and as the boat runs in connection with it, I should think we have shaken him off very effectively."

Because this goes directly to one place and then that goes directly to another place, both of which are official and easily discovered by looking at a timetable, clearly we have escaped the people pursuing us. They will never catch us now!

Watson? I get what you're saying. But please think through the logic a little bit more.

"In the meantime we shall treat ourselves to a couple of carpet-bags, encourage the manufactures of the countries through which we travel, and make our way at our leisure into Switzerland, via Luxembourg and Basle."

Nothing bad ever happens in Switzerland.

"There are limits, you see, to our friend's intelligence. It would have been a coup-de-matre had he deduced what I would deduce and acted accordingly."

We're only playing 3 dimensional chess today, not 4 dimensional. I did wonder.

"I might have known it!" he groaned. "He has escaped!"

He did know you were coming for him. And when... Like. If I knew I was going to be arrested for a certain thing at a certain time, I'd make sure to be somewhere else, too, and I don't claim to be a criminal mastermind. Honestly, this seems inevitable.

"I should certainly recommend you to return to your practice."

Does Watson still have a practice? At what point does it become his neighbour's practice? Will his patients even recognise him?

For a charming week we wandered up the Valley of the Rhone, and then, branching off at Leuk, we made our way over the Gemmi Pass, still deep in snow, and so, by way of Interlaken, to Meiringen.

This is the literary equivalent of elevator music.

Doo do doo do dooo dodoododoo doo do doo do dooo dodoododoo

In an instant Holmes had raced up on to the ridge, and, standing upon a lofty pinnacle, craned his neck in every direction.

We had strict injunctions, however, on no account to pass the falls of Reichenbach, which are about half-way up the hill, without making a small detour to see them.

They sound lovely. Excellent place for a picnic lunch. Clearly nothing bad could happen there.

Although little sus whoever told them that they absolutely had to go see them. Hm?

It is indeed, a fearful place. The torrent, swollen by the melting snow, plunges into a tremendous abyss, from which the spray rolls up like the smoke from a burning house. The shaft into which the river hurls itself is an immense chasm, lined by glistening coal-black rock, and narrowing into a creaming, boiling pit of incalculable depth, which brims over and shoots the stream onward over its jagged lip.

Delightful. 10/10 would visit again. Love how it's described as being 'half-way up the hill', then 'TREMENDOUS ABYSS'. I know this is Watson's PTSD speaking, but the tonal whiplash is getting me, ngl.

We had turned to do so, when we saw a Swiss lad come running along it with a letter in his hand. It bore the mark of the hotel which we had just left, and was addressed to me by the landlord.

...the die is cast, the scene is set...

The appeal was one which could not be ignored. It was impossible to refuse the request of a fellow-countrywoman dying in a strange land.

Almost like it was... designed...

Along this a man was, I remember, walking very rapidly.

There was Holmes's Alpine-stock still leaning against the rock by which I had left him. But there was no sign of him, and it was in vain that I shouted. My only answer was my own voice reverberating in a rolling echo from the cliffs around me.

Well, I certainly didn't see that one coming.

Seriously, though. This is pretty heart-rending to actually think about. Watson just alone on the cliff side, screaming his friend's name into the tremendous abyss.

Then trying to apply Holmes' methods (because that's always gone so well before). Then finding the letter.

Strangely nice of Moriarty to let Holmes write the letter, but I suppose he thought that when he'd tossed Sherlock over the cliff he could just destroy it anyway.

An examination by experts leaves little doubt that a personal contest between the two men ended, as it could hardly fail to end in such a situation, in their reeling over, locked in each other's arms.

The inherent eroticism of plunging to your death with your nemesis, locked in each other's arms.

...him whom I shall ever regard as the best and the wisest man whom I have ever known.

Fs in the notes.

So... I guess that's the last one, then. No more Sherlock Holmes stories after that. Nope. Well, that was fun. Thanks Watson, sorry about your friend.

[gregorovitch-adler]

Intimacy

Just when I am in the middle of my speech, I hear some sniffing in the wedding hall. I look up. Everyone is tearing up. I see some people wipe their eyes with the serviettes.

Why? Did I do something wrong? No! I had spent the whole morning writing a speech for John's wedding.

Selecting and altering the words here and there carefully, with Lestrade's help, so that I would not give myself away in a room full of two hundred guests, about my true feelings for the groom.

And now everyone is crying. I messed it up, again.

It is just like the university days. I would say something with good intention, but without any filters, and everyone would interpret it the wrong way. They would distance themselves from me eventually. I would be left alone.

I knew I was going to be left alone anyway after tonight's reception and dance. That was inevitable. I hadn't expected the isolation to come so soon, though.

Perhaps everyone had picked up on my feelings for John. I had ruined the day with a slip up somewhere.

Breathing deeply, I square my shoulders and spit everything out.

"What's wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that?" I turn to look at John, the only source of sanity in my life. "John?"

John looks up at me with tearful eyes. (No, please don't cry!)

"Did I do it wrong?" I ask again.

"Oh, Sherlock!" Mrs Hudson is tearful too.

Shit. She knew about us. Me. There was never an 'us'. She knew how I felt for John. Everyone obviously knows about my feelings now. Nobody can be so stupid.

Which means John does too, and now he is going to kick me out in the middle of the speech.

John screws his eyes shut and opens them again as he gets up from his seat.

"No, you didn't. Come here," he says and pulls me close before wrapping his arms around my back.

A huge round of applause erupts in the room. Everyone is cheering.

Unsure of what to do next, I awkwardly place an arm on his bicep.

John doesn't let go of me. He keeps holding on to me, and his hand goes up to curl around my nape. He holds me gently.

In this moment, I cannot help but notice the intimacy between us.

I'm not experienced in romantic relationships, but the way John keeps holding me with so many people watching, I feel even closer to him than I already did.

It's rather ironic that I feel this on his wedding day, with his wife watching us with a smile. But I can't help how I feel.

"I haven't finished yet," I say.

"Yeah; I know, I know," he replies and slowly lets me go.

I immediately feel the loss of his touch. I long for him to hold me forever.

I know this is irrational, so I pull out my phone again to continue with my best man speech.

I still have to take care of my words, should I accidentally reveal my heart in front of the man I love in public.

***

Prompt: Intimacy by @onesmallfamily

Sherlock September Challenge.

Tags: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @gaylilsherlock @lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @lookingforlifeoutthere @peanitbear @a-victorian-girl @curlyjohnlock @calaisreno @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @jawnn-watson

[labwebs]

@redhead-reporter asked: "one more, just one, pleeeeease? for your FIANCÉE?" mj grinned as she readjusted her phone in her hand and snapped a few more pictures of them, left palm pressed against his chest to show off her new ring. wow, she was really finding a way to work that word into EVERY sentence she uttered, wasn't she? and who could blame her - after all this time, all their highs and deep lows, they were ENGAGED. peter parker and mary jane watson were going to get MARRIED. "you gonna tell the OTHERS?" she asked gently, swiping through the dozens of photos on her screen to pick the best one. "or did they know before I did?" (tasm!pete)

Peter wasn't always comfortable on the other side of a camera, but for MJ... Well, for MJ he'd decided he'd do just about anything. Though it'd been something they'd talked about here and there, he hadn't known or predicted just how giddy finally asking that all-important question would make her. And that, more than anything else he could think of in his life recently, had made him so indescribably joyful. He knew he'd spend the rest of his life doing his best to make her feel loved and happy- and really he couldn't think of anything better. Even with the challenges he knew would probably be inevitable.

"Just Aunt May," Peter said, arm making its way around her shoulders as he snuggled in even closer to her on the (their?) couch. "And she only found out today, too, when I picked up the ring. Anyone else I figured even if I barely hinted at the idea you'd probably figure it out. Especially Eddie or Betty," he teased.

Social butterfly Peter Parker was not (and probably never would be), but his social circle had grown a little- or exponentially compared to where it'd been in years past. True it was mostly comprised of people MJ had introduced him to, but hey- small steps.