#and john in his anger at mary even threatened to beat sherlock up while sherlock was literally already dying

[i-am-adlocked]

Ngl Season 1 John seriously gave me “Oh he’s sooo gay for him” vibes. Only keeping himself back because Sherlock literally rejected him at Angelo’s the second day they ever met.

John could be bi for all we know but for me, he is definitely straight but will not be opposed if Sherlock ever said “Wanna make out?”

I know plenty of straight men who had told me variations of: “I’m straighter than a ruler made of steel and like being in control in bed but if [name of male celebrity] asked me to be on my knees and beg for it, I will do so with tears in my eyes for absolute want.”

Which absolutely is the reason why I love Battersea so much.

I’ll admit I was both an Adlocker and Johnlocker (I only really stopped by Season 3 when I started getting kinda pissed at John). In fact, I may have tried searching for Jadlock fics and was deeply disappointed how few they were back in the day.

But like John being a straight man. Irene being a gay woman. But also both having Sherlock as their exception and loving him and being hella hot for him cos ummm look at him??? listen to him??? Battersea seriously satisfied my love for both ships ngl

Legit Johnlock Scenes

Dirty thoughts at a crime scene.

[honeypiehotchner]

Trust -- part thirty-four

For some context, this is roughly four days after the last chapter (so the reader has been home from hospital for four days now). And I don’t write smut, y’all, so you’re going to get a lot of the leading up to and morning after scenes because what happens in between is their business, in my opinion. Anywho, happy reading!

Warnings: deadly amount of fluff. And some arguing. I know I never do warnings, so I have no idea why I thought to do it this time, but just roll with it

John and Mary have decided on a spring wedding. Sometime in May.

The date has been set, and you’re supposed to work on invitations today. You say “supposed to” because it’s almost noon, and you and Sherlock are still in bed – although, to be fair, John and Mary haven’t arrived yet.

You’re curled up on his bare chest, his fingers lazily running through your hair. His heart beat is soft and soothing, effectively keeping your eyes closed shut.

But the bright sun shining through the window and the nagging voice in your brain — it sounds a lot like John’s voice — keeps your mind awake. 

“Sherlock,” you mumble.

“Hm…?”

“What time are John and Mary coming over?”

He sighs deeply. “Don’t know.”

“What time is it now?”

“Don’t know.”

“Sherlock,” you chuckle, sitting up, taking the sheet with you to cover your chest. You glance at the clock, gasping. “Sherlock! We need to get dressed!” 

You start to stand, dragging the sheet with you, but you’re quickly pulled back by Sherlock. 

“No we don’t,” he growls, laying back down with his mouth on your neck. “We can stay right here.”

You move to swat him away, but you both freeze when you hear movement in the flat. Followed by Mary calling out, “Hello? Anyone home?”

Sherlock lets you go so you can sit up, and you do, glaring at him as you hold onto the sheet. “Yes, we do,” you hiss.

He rolls his eyes like the child he is as you stand up, quietly locking the door. You spin around and catch Sherlock looking at you, causing you to blush furiously and give him a look. 

“We’ll be right out!” You yell, wrapping the sheet around your body as you search for your clothes. 

Sherlock sits up off the bed, grabbing his underwear from the floor and slipping them on — much to your disappointment, but you’re trying to focus, so you shake your eyes away from him.

“Here,” he grabs a shirt from his closet, his purple one. 

You stare at it, but then snicker, taking it off the hanger.

He gives you a strange look. “What? What are you laughing for?”

“The infamous purple shirt,” you tease, holding it up. “You know, some of your fans joke about this thing. It’s way too tight on you.”

You walk back to the bed, picking your bra up from the floor as you do. You finally drop the sheet, trying to ignore how self-conscious you feel as you slide your bra on. Feeling self-conscious is so stupid. This is the third night you’ve spent with Sherlock, and the two of you haven’t exactly kept your clothes on. It’s not like you should be embarrassed that he’ll see something at this point, even though you are. You’re not even sure what you’re embarrassed about him seeing. An imperfection, maybe? Regardless of the fact that he’s already told you that you have none.

You move to reach your arms around to fasten it, ignoring the protest your shoulder is putting up, but your hands are quickly stopped by Sherlock doing it for you. He smooths his arms over your shoulder blades, leaving a kiss on your cheek when he finishes the task.

And just like that, he goes back to getting himself dressed, letting you do the same.

You fasten the buttons on the purple shirt, amazed at how it actually fits you sort of well – which is telling of just how small it is on Sherlock – and you leave the top three buttons undone, a little bit of a tease both for yourself and for Sherlock. You wear your pants from yesterday, which are fake slacks. They have the appearance of being a bit formal, but they aren’t at all.

Sherlock is in his usual white dress shirt, black slacks, and black blazer. Nothing out of the ordinary, though you wish he would’ve worn the blue shirt, but anyway.

“I’m going to start some coffee,” you sigh, smoothing out your hair. You know you’re going to get hell from Mary and John no matter when you walk out, so best to get it over with now.

Sherlock nods. “Into battle.”

“Into battle for sure,” you mutter under your breath as you pull open his door.

You don’t immediately see John and Mary, and that’s because they’re sitting on the couch, but they see when you and Sherlock venture into the kitchen. John is nervously watching while Mary is grinning so wide, she thinks she might split her lips. She’s waited so long for this to happen and seeing the two of you as happy as you are has made her heart soar.

Watching the two of you dance around one another in the kitchen is a sight unto itself. Sherlock reaching above you to grab the mugs from the cabinet as you’re standing in front of/underneath him, putting the coffee on. His arms wrap around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

John can’t take it anymore. He genuinely can’t take it.

He stands before Mary has a chance to scold him, and he’s in the kitchen before she has the chance to drag him away.

John clears his throat rather loudly. “Good morning.”

Both of your heads turn to find your older brother standing in the doorway of the kitchen with a rather disapproving look on his face. Sherlock peels himself away from you, busying his hands with tidying up an old forgotten science experiment as you pay extra close attention to the coffee.

You knew John wouldn’t be happy about this, but that doesn’t mean you want to deal with his attitude – whether you expect it or not. You decide to acknowledge him, though, by asking, “Would you like some coffee?”

“I’d like to have a word with the two of you.”

Mary nearly rolls her eyes. Here he goes.

“Uh, okay,” you chuckle awkwardly. “What’s up?”

“Come in here.”

You sigh, tugging on Sherlock’s sleeve to get him to follow you into the living room. Mary sits in John’s chair while John stands, motioning for you and Sherlock to take a seat on the couch. Hesitantly, you do, but you can tell Sherlock is still wary about doing anything at all, because he sits on the opposite end of the couch. But you’re not complaining. Anything to keep John’s comments at bay.

John turns and picks up a newspaper off the table, smacking it down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

There, you’re both confronted with a headline.

Sherlock Holmes and CONFIRMED girlfriend Y/N L/N leaving the Royal London Hospital hand-in-hand

You try to hide the smile that threatens to crawl on your face when you see the picture. Not because you’re covering your face, but because Sherlock’s hand is protectively wrapped around yours as he drags you along, his stare lethal to anyone who dare hurts you.

He’s possibly more protective of you than John, not that you’re complaining.

“So?” You ask. “I’m surprised it took them two days to put that on the front page. I expected twenty-four hours, tops.”

John levels his gaze.

You sigh, getting serious. “Fine. What’s wrong, John?”

“The two of you,” he gestures between you and Sherlock, “need to start being more careful.”

“More careful?” You ask incredulously. “What do you mean more careful? We haven’t left this flat for two days, how can we be more careful?”

Okay, so that isn’t the truth, but why does John need to know you and Sherlock went for chips last night at one in the morning?

He already knows, that’s the answer. How does he know, you might ask?

“Mycroft called me last night,” John crosses his arms over his chest. “He’s barely kept the papers from publishing pictures of the two of you on a park bench.”

Ah, the park bench. The reason the two of you got home a little quicker than you were planning.

Nothing illegal, unless you count public indecency in that category, but that didn’t actually happen – hence why the two of you came back to the flat.

But you didn’t know press had gotten pictures. For God’s sake.

“Okay, so maybe we went out last night,” you shrug, taking a quick glance at Sherlock to find him smirking, no doubt remembering the events of last night. If you weren’t in the middle of this with John, you’d smack Sherlock’s leg and tell him to behave. “But we didn’t know pictures would be taken. It was late, for Christ’s sake, what were they doing out?”

“Yes, exactly, what were you doing out?” John fires back, having no sympathy for your situation.

You sit back, nudging Sherlock’s leg this time. “Sherlock. Help me out here.”

“Oh, we went out for chips,” Sherlock offers. “Got hungry.”

“At one in the bloody morning? You couldn’t have just made something here? Who knows what could’ve happened when you were out that late? Anything could’ve happened!”

“What are you so riled up about?” You cry out. “It wasn’t like I went out on my own! He was with me!”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m so ‘riled’ up about!” John yells. “You are both this close to famous and with everything that’s happened—”

“What?” You ask after John stopped himself so abruptly. “After all that’s happened, I’m not allowed to go out with my b—With Sherlock and get chips at one in the morning? I’m not allowed to do that? Would you rather I go back to the crack den?”

“No,” John replies firmly. “Absolutely not. Don’t joke about that.”

“Then what?” You stand from the couch, coming eye level with your brother. “What is wrong with you?”

“Just—Try to keep a low profile. Keep yourselves inside for the week, okay? Just until all this blows over.”

“I’m not going on lockdown in this flat because you’re worried about what some papers say,” you scoff. “You can’t make me stay inside. You’ve learned that already.”

You see John clench his jaw, the anger inside of him barely staying behind closed doors. Sherlock and Mary both stand, both sharing a look of worry because the scene has escalated much farther than they thought it would. Neither of them have seen the two of you argue like this.

“What’s really wrong?” You ask, softer this time, just trying to get to the bottom of it. “What are you not telling me?”

“It’s dangerous,” is all John can say.

“What is?”

“You and Sherlock.”

You chuckle darkly. “John, me being alive is a hazard enough on its own. Do you have any idea how many people I’ve pissed off in my life?”

“Exactly,” he replies, taking a deep breath. “You’re not safe. There are people out there who want to—who might want to hurt you. And if you’ve got your face all over these papers, if one of them gets to you, then it’s just more attention for them.”

You nod, hanging your head a little as you think. And you think. You’ve got protection from just being around Sherlock. You swear, he hardly lets go of your hand if you go out, and he keeps little to no distance between your bodies. You have protection from Mycroft. There’s always a guard standing in the flat at the bottom of the stairs that you have to check in with before you leave – except last night; you two snuck out, but that’s irrelevant. Your point is: there is so much protection surrounding you.

So, why would John be worried, unless there was someone out there who has been known to be able to manipulate their way around these obstacles?

You lift your head, giving John a steady look. You look to Sherlock, too, wondering if he also knows something. But he isn’t giving much away besides a confused expression.

“John…” You pause. “Be honest with me here. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

You can see it in his face before he even answers you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose. “There is. You’ve been letting me live in blissful ignorance, haven’t you? Letting me think everything was fine? What’s wrong?” You turn to Sherlock. “What happened?”

“Sherlock,” John clears his throat. “Do you want to tell her, or should I?”

The taller man stays quiet, his eyes refusing to look at yours as he shrugs his shoulders, indifferent to it all.

Standing behind John, Mary gives you an incredulous look. “One of you better explain what’s going on.”

You feel slightly better hearing her say that. At least you weren’t the only one in the dark, but you’re still in the dark, regardless of whether or not Mary is with you.

“Gidon is dead,” John explains, which you knew. “But he left a note behind.”

“Of course he did,” you scoff. “What was it?”

John pulls out his wallet, producing a folded-up paper a second later. He hands it to you, motioning for you to read it.

“I O U,” you read aloud, then look up with furrowed eyebrows. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Moriarty,” Sherlock finally speaks. “James Moriarty.”

“Moriarty?” Your eyes widen. “Moriarty as in shot himself in the head before you jumped off the hospital roof Moriarty?”

Sherlock, a little annoyed by your description, nods. “Yes.”

“But he’s dead,” you say. “Do you think Gidon was an accomplice?”

“We don’t know,” John replies, looking defeated. “We don’t know.”

“I don’t like not knowing,” Sherlock mutters under his breath, moving around everyone to venture into the kitchen, most likely to check on the coffee.

“So that’s why you’re worried?” You hand the note back to John. “You think Moriarty is going to come after us now?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats, tucking the note away. “I don’t know what could happen, and that’s what I’m worried about. Not knowing.”

“Okay,” you chuckle in relief. “Lead with that next time, okay? We didn’t need to scream at each other for the past five minutes if you’re just worried about not knowing.” You pause to shrug. “Because that worries me, too.”

Mary walks off into the kitchen to help Sherlock with fixing coffee – she also needs some herself – but she wants to give you and John a moment of privacy.

“But John, being around Sherlock…I’m not as worried.” You hate how it sounds. All romantic and sappy. “It sounds stupid and lovesick and gross, but I don’t care. I feel safe when I’m with him, like I’m protected. I’m still worried about not knowing what could happen, but I’ve at least got him right beside me.”

Sherlock freezes upon hearing this, his head turning to look into the living room at you and John, but you’re hugging now. Your eyes are closed as you give John a long hug, one you can tell he’s needed. Just one to let him know you’re good.

“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him,” John whispers.

“Yeah, I know you will,” you chuckle, pushing back from the hug. “And I appreciate it. But I don’t think he’ll hurt me.”

John gives you a look, because obviously it’s going to take a while before he really trusts Sherlock with you, but if you think you’re okay with him, then John can try to accept it.

Sherlock reenters the room with your coffee in hand, his cup in the other. He hands it to you with a kiss on the forehead, causing you to smile up at him.

John watches the interaction with a faint smile as he accepts a cup from Mary, her telling him to get his laptop set up so they can look at wedding invitations.

Sherlock waits until they’re both focused on the computer before he turns your body to look at him, his eyes studying yours. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

“I know you will,” you smile.

Your little shared moment is broken by John. “Alright, these are it.”

The four of you gather around the computer to look at the invitation they have laid out, as Mary is making a change.

“What, really?” John immediately begins to protest. “Does it have to be on the invitation?”

“Hamish,” you have to keep yourself from snickering. “John Hamish Watson, eh?”

“Shut up,” John glares, turning back to his soon-to-be wife. “Does it have to be on the invitation?”

“It’s your name!” Mary cries. “It’s traditional!”

Except, as she says that, Sherlock says, “It’s funny,” and that’s the moment you lose it, nearly choking on your coffee.

“I’m so sorry, but come on, Hamish?”

“Listen, I didn’t pick it!”

“Sorry, sorry,” you stutter, waving your hands in front of your face as you try to control your laughter. “I’m sorry, it’s just – Hamish.”

“Yes, we get it,” he sighs. “If it has to be on there—”

“It’s fine, John,” Mary soothes. “I like Hamish.”

“You’re being nice,” he murmurs. “But thank you.”

The rest of the afternoon is occupied by trying to compromise on the wedding invitation – the design, the wording, everything. Things are being set in motion rather quickly for the wedding, and you’re finding yourself in a strange place of excitement.

You’ve tried not to think a whole lot about the dreams you had about Sherlock and you being married, but of course, that is considerably hard when you’re talking about marriage frequently with John and Mary. Mary, especially, since she knows of the dreams. You see her give you a knowing look every once in a while, when something is mentioned that sends you reeling, even though you try not to.

It’s just something you’re going to have to push down, no matter how hard it is.

[blank-nova-trash]

Soldiers, chapter one- Today We Are Ghosts.

Five minutes. Just five minutes is all it took for a life time of pain and moral anguish to be subjected onto us in meer days. Moriarty was definitely part of it but why? How well did they know each other? Why target me, I'm her brother but not the one that locked her up throwing away the key yet, somehow she believes me responsible.

Sherlock sat in the dark, another night where the flames of the fireplace - the only source of light - kept him company as his own thoughts ate his head while he attempted to make sense of the events that still haunted his every breath. Although the fire burned it did not make him feel warm, although his armchair was comfortable as it had ever been his skin still crawled with unease. He sat and thought and thought and thought...going in circles in his mind palace retracing every event, every detail just in case by miracle or mistake he missed something - anything at all since the day he first heard the five pip tone from Moriarty. Of course every time he would slip into these thoughts it left him in the same place with the same questions bouncing off his skull, like a rubber ball against a prison wall. He could not remember the last time he laid eyes on his bed, or on anything that was not his own regret.

"Hello?"

Sherlock's eyes snapped open at the sound only to land on a small girl with brown pigtails knees to her chest in front of the fire place, her voice so little echoed loud.

"Is anybody there? I'm alone and frightened."

His breathing became more heavy his eyes never left the girl but his mind took off at alarming speed.

"No it doesn't make sense" he whispered grogily the vibrations of his rusty throat aiding the deathly thumping in his head.

The girl stood making direct eye contact with sherlock but she wasn't looking in his eyes it was as if she was looking straight through him piercing his mind and soul, her body was motionless as she continued.

"I was only curious I didn't mean any harm I just wanted to see how everything ticked."

Sherlock stood in agitation "why involve him?" He threw his arms out to the side emphasis to his annoyance, body slightly shaking in tention, "she was perfectly capable of doing this herself why get Moriarty to play anyone could of been her outside eyes and ears" he was almost spitting his words at the little girl "context?" He spun around flailing his harms "to see how I worked?" He spun around again, walking to the window as he spoke "to see if I was a bastard? make it easier to kill me?" He cocked his head in amusement before taking in a shaky breath slowly turning to face the fireplace again.

"Because I couldn't save her..." he softly spoke it as more a statement than a question taking slow cautious steps toward where Mary now stood in place of the little girl "is it revenge?" His eyes dropped solemn and tears threatened to break free from his bloodshot eyes as an image of John flashed through his mind repeating "is it revenge?"

Footsteps creeked from the hall, instantly snapping him from all thought and he was suddenly in the present again. The fire almost burnt out, natural light from the outside lightly laying on top of the room as the footsteps came down the stairs, John. Sherlock fell back into his seat scrubbing his dry hands over his face a deep breath vibrating his chest. He pressed his hands together the stubble from his beard irritating his skin where they rested under his chin, he crossed his legs making a mask of stone peaceful on his face - something he often always wore - as if nothing happened. As if he wasn't slowly going out his mind with obsession and heartache.

Within moments John opened the door, walking in eyes purposefully glued to a newspaper from yesterday. His eyes flicked up to sherlock and around the full room, he made it a point shaking his head motioning to sherlock with the paper.

"Bloody unbelievable" he States in amused annoyance, moving toward the sofa.

Sherlock opened his eyes slightly looking at him, "what is?"

John flicks open the paper on the table to the last few pages bending over it from his seat continuing to read. "The paper"

Scrunching his eyes, sherlock turned in his chair to face John more clearly "you'll have to be more specific"

"People are actually romantacising the thought of world war three"

"People romanticize everything these days" sherlock replied, rolling his eyes, voice still croaky.

John still didn't look up from the paper as he turned another page "Yeh, well people are idiots." 

A small somewhat form of a smile slightly curved on sherlocks mouth "hey, that my line."

John looked up catching the rare view, quickly looking back down at the paper "oh no I'm mutating into a reptile"

Without missing a beat sherlock retorted "oh please you look nothing like my brother."

Looking uo again this time catching his gaze they laughed, ignoring the subtle strain awkward strain. They actually laughed for the first time in God knows when more than that they where actually laughing together.

Both noticing the fact, they relished in it however a small ping of hurt rested in both their chests because they also realised how long it's been since they sat in the same room and laughed without interacting with Rosey. They where still best friends John thought and that would never change but something felt missing like something between them had turned off and it was shocking to feel the light turn on again for a mere few moments. Perhaps this is progress to slowly building the bridge again, sherlock thought.

A smile lay on their lips although small it was there, sherlock wanted it to stay like this because it felt right to have John not fight him. "At least if you're a reptile it would cut our heating bills"

With another small chuckle John replied "well no one will have to worry about heating bills with the atomic radiation from the bombs"

"Quite so." Sherlock smiled and silence fell, it was an awkward silence not because they where uncomfortable but because for once they felt comfortable just sitting and talking about nothing at all for the first time in months, neither of them where worring about anything it was as if last night never happen and they where both okay again.

John coughed sitting back on the sofa, not quite finished with the paper that sat open on the table but his mind was wandering more to sherlock now, he looked at him his eye contact a bit more cold than he intended. He coughed again and softened his eyes. Sherlock felt anxious all of a sudden he felt the atmosphere change, he wondered what John was thinking. A few more moments of silence passed before John spoke.

"So you're up early"

"I was tending to Rosey. She made it quite clear she needed a new dyper."

"Ah I though I heard you talking to yourself"

Sherlock froze, how long had john really been awake or did he even sleep to begin with? Taking a breath he continued "well no, I was just lulling her."

"Ah it's just I thought she was with Mrs Hudson."

"No she's in her crib." Sherlock motioned his hand to the white crib by the sofa near the window

Sherlock was shocked he didn't think he was speaking that loudly was John purposefully listening to him? Why?

John got up to go look at his daughter, as he was looking at her he could feel sherlock looking at him with a inquisitive gaze. He knew he was lying saying he was putting her to sleep, cause he was talking about Moriarty. He may not be the best with emotions but he knew sherlock well and he knew that he was suffering although he thinks he hides it, he just wants sherlock to open up so he doesn't drive himself mad but there's no way to get him to open up without letting sherlock know he already knows... it would scare him away, thinking he's just hurting everyone, again.

He turned round to sherlock breaking him from thought.

"Tea?"

"Yes, thank you."

With a nod of his head he walked into the kitchen clicking the kettle on, arranging the mugs.

"You're up early yourself." Sherlock called through "something on the brain?"

"Nope" John shook his head

Sherlock paused for a minute anxious to ask "nightmare?" His voice a little quieter than before, he thought since they where talking now perhaps they could make some progress.

John let out an agitated sigh, thinking back to just a few hours ago when the night had imprisoned him. "No" his voice a lot firmer than before mind flashing with images. sherlock slowly regretting his choice to instigate the conversation however. "I just couldn't sleep" John faced him with warning eyes sherlock continued looking unphased but his heart was pumping anxiety.

"Don't lie to  me John I know when you're lying"

"I'm not lying, sherlock"

"You are wearing outdoor clothes which you haven't slept in but judging by the flattened crinckles at the back you have been sitting in one position for a long time not sleeping but those are fresh clothes, not from yesterday yet, I can smell your body oder you don't sweat unless exercising which you haven't cause you've been in  your room  all night which suggests vigorous sweating from night terror but you're clothes haven't been slept  inas I said.  So how could it of been  a night terror you ask? well simple you where wearing pyjamas and since it was too early to shower you just put on clean clothes there is slightly damp parts where your body continued to expel moisture in fright  as you calmed down."

John shoved his tea into his hand with a threateningly blank face as he said barely above a whisper "shut up"

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but John moved away quickly,  back to watch his sleeping daughter, not knowing what to do with his feelings of guilt and anger. Sherlock stared into his tea as various figures appeared before him sitting draped across John's chair.

"You are pathetic little brother look at you when have you ever not known what to say."

He glanced up eyes wandering over to Mary.

"You can't blame him he is hurting just as much as you, be strong"

"You should go about it more delicately, it's not fair to resurface such raw emotion all at once." Molly chipped in sherlock bit the inside of his lip

"Emotion. such funny little things, the cause of all your problems, cut your ties little brother."

"Don't let him slip away." Mary begged

"Perhaps it's already too late." Mycroft replied

"It's never too late as long as he is still here." Molly stated

"Yes he is still here but for how long do you think he will stick around he isn't a little puppy anymore he's started to bite the hand that feeds him." A new voice spoke from behind sherlock, but he didn't move. The figure moved in front of him, Moriarty. "You know he blames you right. He has every right to you know, it is all your fault." He lent over inches from Sherlock face hands either side of the chair

The little girl came out from behind him echoing the words "all your fault."

John turned round from the crib to take a drink of his tea when he noticed sherlock staring in concentration at the air. "What's wrong?" He asked a little too angry not wanting to actually talk but still caring enough to do so.

Sherlock startled from his trance with  a cough, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Nothing" he breathed. John decided  to let it go and sipped his tea, sherlock doing the same he held the cup in front of him studying it "it's just... I much prefered the old mugs, had quite a liking to them." John set down his tea, gave Rosey a small kiss on her forehead as he stroked her little tuffs of hair, with a sigh he replied "yeh well  I liked  a lot of things before it all got blown apart"

Sherlock stayed quiet, not wanting  to worsen anything any further, John continued to sip his tea and adore his daughter while his thoughts scratched scars into his brain. Silence came down upon them however, this was much different from  the one before.

Sherlock bit the inside of his mouth, trying hard to ignore the prickling atmosphere, whereas John swimed in his thoughts unable to shake the memories of that fatal night nor the terrors that claimed him as he slept.

At first it started like any other dream- fighting in his war, getting shot but still carrying on through the gun fire to aid his fallen comrade but when he turns the body over its Mary bloody corpse, vastly decomposing in his arms. The gun fire doesn't stop till he screams out her name, when he looks up everyone he ever felt he let down surround him staring and pointing he turns around only to be faced by another gun held by sherlock, their eyes meet and then he pulls the trigger but the bullet goes through him hitting Mary and John turns back  to her as another shot rings and a body hits the ground their eyes meet again after her body dissolves into his but this time sherlock's are cold and vacant. John tries to scream out again but no sound will come. All of a sudden he feels like he is shrinking he keeps trying to shout out but no sound, then suddenly nothing else exists but blackness all around him only  to wake up in tremors and sweat.

John blinked out of his trance still looking down at his beautiful daughter a tear sliding  down his cheek, cautiously he wiped it away sniffing with  a deep breath. Turning around for his cup instinctively his eyes flicked up to sherlock who hadn't moved an inch since he snapped at him.

Pushing his guilt to the side he sipped his tea running  a hand through his hair, he really should get it cut. John felt bad for  how he had been treating sherlock the past while, he had been snapping more and more and not talking to him unless it's for Rosey. At first he thought everything was fine but after a few cases he slowly began to bend feeling he was going to snap. John knew it wasn't sherlock's fault, that he was being a selfish hypocrite not talking to him about how he felt but how was he supposed to? Mary was still a fresh wound, Rosey is a lot of responsibility and that's just the start of it all... he doesn't know how to heal and he knows that taking it out on sherlock won't solve anything but he also felt as though sherlock owed him something- so maybe Mary's death want his fault, but something was.

He didn't know what, but he knew it was something. The something that's been making his nightmares more frequent, the something that makes him not want to eat or leave the flat, the something that makes him too weak to be there a hundred percent for Rosey.

John is a good father, at least he hoped he was good enough. He wished he could be better, so he could do better for her. He sat back down on the sofa sitting his half empty cup down as he then continued to read the paper. Sherlock was sunken deep into his mind palace starting from the beginning his tea turning cold. Something had to come up, something he missed something that could fix everything- it just had to.

The fire burnt out completely now. The sun shon brighter, the normal people started to wake up and busy the streets. The two men dissolved into their own ends of the room giving up on normality and conversation for the rest of the day. The light broke again.

And they were not okay...again.

[gosherlocked]

Angry John, or S4 and EMP

Much has been said about John in S4, his anger, his changed personality, his distance, his resentfulness, his brutal treatment of Sherlock - I could go on. Sure, in TEH we got angry John, violent John, but then it could be excused - at least up to a certain extent - and knowing Mofftiss they might have found it even funny to correct Canon by having not just one, but three physical attacks. After all they clearly stated that to them Canon Watson’s reaction was not very believable. Anyway, we are shown that John has not forgotten the fall but has forgiven Sherlock by the end of TEH. 

Then TAB happens and we get the above scene in the cemetery, a scene that is modern AND happens in Sherlock’s mind without a shadow of a doubt. John being angry, John choosing to leave with Mary, refusing to help Sherlock on his case. And there is also the short moment in the carriage when Victorian John is substituted by modern John, saying: “Sherlock, tell me where my bloody wife is, you pompous prick, or I’ll punch your lights out!” Both scenes are not real. Both times John chooses Mary over Sherlock, leaving him, threatening him with violence. 

And then, in S4, in two episodes we are supposed to take for real, we get the same angry John, the John who is distant, who leaves Sherlock, who blames and rejects him, who saves him only because his dead wife tells him to do so. 

In my humble opinion - since I do not believe that Sherlock suddenly has turned into a prophet or a clairvoyant - Sherlock is processing all that has happened to him after the fall: John’s anger, losing John to Mary, being almost killed by Mary, realising and accepting his feelings, trying to ensure John’s happiness at the cost of his own, overcoming his self-loathing and repressed emotions. And this processing is still going on S4, making John’s behaviour more believable. This is not the real John Watson we see but Sherlock’s inner worst case scenario: a John who blames him, cuts him out of his life, brutally beats him while being high and weakened by drugs. This would also explain why there is no apology during the hug scene. While making progress, Sherlock still believes that he does not deserve an apology. He has still got a long way to go. 

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[hushwatson]

John had a lot of issues to still work through.  The death of his wife, the lies that she had told him, Sherlock’s willingness to accept her when he himself couldn’t, becoming a single father, trust issues, anger issues - the list just went on and on.  The one thing he couldn’t reconcile or get over was his behaviour towards Sherlock since Mary’s death.  He told Sherlock he had blamed him, that it was his fault, but John knew that wasn’t true.  Even though he wasn’t there, he had heard what had happened from nearly everyone present, well, everyone that is except Sherlock.  Sherlock took it for what it was, he didn’t try to speak to John about what had happened, he knew John was furious with him.  He couldn’t keep his mouth shut and Mary had paid the ultimate price. She jumped in front of the bullet meant for him because she knew John could learn to live without her, but would never be able to live without Sherlock.  It was self serving in the end, but it was over and in the past.

John avoided Sherlock, had Molly send him away with a note that said their friendship was over and nothing could ever repair it and Sherlock understood, he didn’t blame him, but he couldn’t go on without John.  He needed John for the work, he was deteriorating without John and he realised that without some kind of intervention, he would soon be dead himself, so he made a plan.  He enlisted Mrs Hudson’s help without her knowing it and soon John and Sherlock were back together again, albeit on rocky ground.

John found himself craving the attention from the case Sherlock was working on and from Sherlock himself and he couldn’t understand how Sherlock could just act like there was no rift between them, until it came to a head at the morgue with Culverton Smith standing there taunting Sherlock and Sherlock threatening him with a scalpel.  Then John burst into action and disarmed him and just didn't stop there.  He proceeded to beat his best friend, kick him while he was down until he literally had to be pulled away from the man cowering on the floor mumbling just to let him, that it was ok.  Mary was dead because of him.  He understood.

In the end John had saved him from that terrible hospital and Culverton Smith was locked away for good but John could still not sleep at nights, ashamed of how he had treated his best friend.  They’d - him, Molly and Mrs Hudson - had been taking turns looking after his recovery after being released from the hospital and Sherlock seemed to take it in stride.  He got to see John which while awkward was more than he could have hoped for.

John on the other hand was having difficulties coming to terms with Sherlock’s acceptance.  He spent most of his sessions with Ella discussing this and she told him until they talked it out, they’d be stuck in this limbo.  John informed Ella Sherlock really didn't do the talking thing and Ella pointed out that neither did John.  She had him there.

So finally after two weeks of sitting in near silence with Sherlock he finally broke. “Look, Sherlock I’m sorry for everything I’ve done, the way I’ve treated you, for when I beat you up in the morgue in the hospital that day.”

A moment of silence passed and Sherlock took a sip of his tea, considering what to say. “John, it’s water under the bridge.  I can’t imagine the grief and the anguish you felt and most of it was because of me.  You weren’t yourself and you need to quit blaming yourself and work through it.  I will always be here for you and I am willing to talk through and work through what we need to to get us back on track.  I miss the way things used to be.  I miss Rosie.  I’m even willing to go to see Ella with you to work on us.”

John was taken aback.  Here he was so wrapped up in his feelings, he never considered how Sherlock felt and he knew if they were going to work through this properly, he’d have to take Sherlock’s advice, they’d have to see Ella together.

“So what days work for you and how soon did you want to start?” John said breaking the ice.

“As soon as you’re ready.” Sherlock answered.

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[goingagainstthetide]

Is John truly such a good friend for Sherlock?

As I see it, John Watson has been behaving quite badly toward Sherlock in the past two seasons.

Let’s start with The Empty Hearse: he phisically attacks Sherlock three times. Now, I get it was funny, I get Sherlock was an ass, I get John’s was angry, but three times, getting more violent with each attack?

Then His Last Vow...so many things here:

-In the scene after Sherlock escapes from the hospital, Mrs Hudson, Lestrade and him wonder who Sherlock would protect in a way (as I saw it) that 1) proved they don’t know what Sherlock did for them; 2) they don’t think Sherlock would go to such lenghts to protect someone.

-During the John-Mary confrontation in Baker Street, John threatens to make Sherlock shut up without a single thought about his health. Yes, he was angry and shocked, but he is a doctor, he made a vow to save lives. Sherlock “looks terrible” (Mrs Hudson notices it), he asks for morphine (proof if needed that he is in great pain), he looks about to faint, and the only thing John can do is to threaten him!

-The final good bye...John’s lack of gratitude. Yes, he doesn’t know Sherlock is being sent to suicide mission. And yes, let’s presume John doesn’t really believe he won’t see Sherlock again, but he doesn’t even bother to say a small, miserable thank you for what he did to ensure he and Mary will have a happy life with their child.

- The Six Thatchers: here is there I forgive John’s more because he is in shock.

- The Lying Detective. Once again John’s is angry and 1) doesn’t care about Sherlock’s health; 2) phisically attacks Sherlock (I found the beating scene very hard to watch as John  was completely out of control); 3) he is ready to abandon Sherlock conveniently forgetting everything Sherlock did for him along the years. It is only when he hears Mary’s video and realizes what Sherlock did for him that he changes attitude.

Is this the way to treat your best friend? The man you not long ago you begged “not to be dead”? The man that “saved you”? That man who took a bullet and almost died because your wife shot him? The man who risked internal bleeding and a cardial arrest to make sure you were safe from your assassin wife and then did everything he could to make you patch up with said wife? The man who shot the blackmailer who would ruin your whole life?

No, it’s not. John Watson has a serious problem of anger management. When he is angry about something, he completely loses his mind and cannot see anything else but his own pain and anger. He is also ungrateful and egoistical.

While Sherlock, who passes for the most self-centered being out there, is instead the most generous of men with the persons he cares about when they are in danger or in need. Look at everything he did for John and Mary! And also for for Mrs Hudson and Lestrade, because nobody will make me believe the version of the Fall he gave to Anderson is the true one. His tears and fear on that rooftop where real, so he was, at least, unsure that whatever plan he had would actually work.

And also look at this latest episode, Sherlock is ready to forget what happened...He took the beating John gave him as if he though he deserved it. He predicted John would decide not to see him anymore (and leave the cane as memento) and accepted it. He is ready to comfort John in the end and does everything he can to make John feels better.

I get the impression that since Sherlock never had a real friend before he is considering John’s “friendly (but in truth not friendly at all)” behaviour as normal for a friend, but someone else would have already told John to get a grip and change attitude.