#anyway here’s how Johnlock can still win

[greatcheshire]

Scrolling tumblr has me so fucked up that I legit looked at this for a solid minute trying to figure out how it relates to Destiel

[dashconstaff]

Hello Tumblypoos 😍

Here is the OFFICIAL list of 2021 Dashcon panels and activities (so far):

Love Wins: Destiel is Canon

Can You Knot? An Introduction to A/B/O

Activism and Kpop: How Fancams Fight Fascism

TWO BALL PITS IN THE SUPER HELL ROOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

a 72-hour Hamilton sing-a-long all weekend!!!

Destiel’s Legacy: Johnlock, Stucky, and Hannigram Next?

Acting lessons with special guest Jensen Ackles (free)

British Men and Their Cheekbones

Why Kylo is Exactly Like Zuko

Big Time Socialists: Why BTS Supporting Black Lives Matter Was the Wokest Moment of 2020

Quarantine and Chill? How the Pandemic Has Affected Fanfiction

Parody Accounts: Tumblr, Trolling, and You

Trump is Just Like Umbridge: Activism For the Woke HP Generation

and a six hour John Green book signing (he said he would also sign printed out copies of the cock monologue for an extra $5)

Additionally, we have unfortunately decided to cancel the Tumblr Prom due to unforeseen circumstances (explanation here). We hope you’ll all still have fun anyway ❤️

Have ideas for more panels? Let us know!

Buy your 2021 Dashcon Badge HERE!!!!!!!!!!

*Masks will not be required anywhere besides the ball pit/Super Hell room.

[marta-bee]

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary

Sherlockians, I want to talk about Mary. Or not about Mary the character, because enough words have been spent on that topic and I’m nowhere near brave enough to wade into that one on a snowy Sunday afternoon, but rather on the way we as readers can (perhaps should) relate to her. At some level what follows is about this Tumblr post, where an anonymous commenter asked for “any fics where Mary’s not the bad guy” and noticed that a lot of the evil-Mary fanworks “gets a bit misogynistic in my opinion”; but I’m also using that as something of a springboard, and don’t mean this as a direct reply to that post. (Which is why I’m not replying in a reblog; please everyone go check out that post and comment on it as well.)

Anyway, let me start with two basic points that I hope are pretty noncontroversial.

Mary is an antagonist, at least some of the time.

Mary has at least some aspects of her character that are bad-making (more on what I mean by “bad-making” in a moment), or at least would be if she were a real person.

The devil’s in the details here, as it is with most things worth talking about, so let’s unpack that a bit.

(Long post is long, and so continued under the cut.)

When I say someone’s an antagonist, I’m not really making a value-judgment. I’m purposefully avoiding that word, “villain,” which calls to mind “villainous” as a description of their personality and character. An antagonist is just someone who plot-wise stands in opposition to the character. They’re wrapped up in the conflict our hero has to overcome.

Let’s take a pretty straightforward (and unrelated to our fandom, so hopefully less emotionally charged for a lot of us) example: the first “Hunger Games” book. Katniss is thrown into a gladiatorial fight to the death with twenty-three other teenagers. With the exception of Rue and (later in the games) Peeta, everyone else is an antagonist in relation to Katniss. She has to hope for their death and be prepared to kill them because their continued existence stands in the way of her surviving the games. Most are reduced to numbers with s knowing precious little about them – certainly not enough to think they deserve death. But they’re still antagonists because they’re obstacles the hero has to work past if she hopes to succeed.

Or take Draco Malfoy, in the early Harry Potter books. He’s a thoroughly unpleasant boy, spoiled and sniveling certainly, but I’d be hard-pressed to call him bad. His biggest defining characteristic is he stands up and tries to fight Harry; but often as not this comes down to inter-house squabbling and the only reason he and Harry are on opposite sides is how they were sorted. As we learn, given the way he was raised and the political situation he was raised in, it’s actually pretty admirable how on the periphery of the Death Eaters he stays. But he’s still the antagonist, he’s the one Harry has to outsmart or outperform or otherwise get around.

It's only natural we cheer when the antagonists fail. We’re primed to identify with the protagonist, after all, and their failure means the protagonist gets to win. Even if objectively know the antagonist doesn’t actually deserve to fail, well. That’s just kind of how stories work.

Getting back to Sherlock, I said it’s pretty noncontroversial that Mary’s an antagonist. So when I say that I don’t mean she’s evil, or even that she’s only an antagonist. But the woman shoots our star character in the chest. It’s her secrets and her very presence that drive Sherlock into exile (and drive Sherlock and John apart) for a second time, undoing whatever victory  Sherlock achieved when he defeated Moriarty’s web. She’s certainly a problem to be addressed and worked past in HLV. In terms of canon and parallels with the Doyle stories, there’s quite a lot about her actions (particular in Leinster Gardens) that all but screams “Sebastian Moran.” Ergo: antagonist.

There’s also a quieter, more ordinary sense that I suspect will be more controversial but is worth talking about anyway. Like a lot of Sherlockians and Johnlockers, I’m a big fan of making space for John/Mary/Sherlock in happy OT3 land. I think Sherlock and John at least want some version of that in canon; maybe not romantically, but they like to imagine their being room in their lives for these different relationships to not be in conflict. But in BBC-canon that hope’s not really borne out. This deserves a full meta on its own, but briefly: when Mary observes that neither she nor Sherlock were “the first” (talking about Sholto), she situates them in competition for the same position in John’s life, rather than in distinct, complementary ones (which an OT3 seems to require); and when Sherlock notes at the end of TSOT episode that “we can’t all three dance,” he seems to come to a similar conclusion. I do love me some good Johnlockary fic, but I don’t think this is where the show was heading

At a more basic level, I’d actually argue it almost has to be this way with these three- at least if we’re to hold on to John and Sherlock being “the two of us against the world.” In the 1800s men and women had such different roles in society, a man would do very different things and relate in very different ways to his close (male) friends than he would to his (female) wife. So Watson could run off with Holmes and have adventure, then return home to Mary for the peaceful, even loving family life, without one really being in tension with the other. But by the twenty-first century those spheres aren’t nearly so different. Even if you don’t imagine them as lovers, it’s hard not to imagine a self-respecting woman today saying as Mary did in TAB, “I don’t mind you going; I mind you leaving me behind.” One of the biggest challenges for a modern Holmes adaptation (or indeed, for a modern consumer of the original Doyle stories) is how to balance Holmes’ and Watson’s private “intimate partnership” – however we understand that term – against (John) Watson’s marriage to Mary with all we moderns expect of that relationship in terms of emotional fidelity, equal partnership, shared future, etc.

Put more simply: Mary should throw a monkey-wrench in the mix; she should be something that must be accounted for and whose presence should affect how Holmes and Watson can interact. Not to mean her presence is incompatible with Holmes and Watson’s close and exclusive relationship, but at a minimum she’s a factor in need of an explanation. She can’t help but be antagonistic, at least to some interpretations of Holmes’s and (John) Watson’s relationship.

As I said, with antagonists, it’s only natural to cheer for the protagonists, which almost inevitably means rooting for the protagonists’ failure. At least we root for them being de-antagonized, converted into some other relationship to the main character. But if you’ve spent any time on AO3, you’ve probably come across fanfic focusing on the antagonists (*cough* Loki *cough**cough* Drary *hacks up a longue* Silm-fandom-this-one’s-for-you *cough*’s). We can be a thirsty bunch when it comes to our antagonists, for characters we by all rights should be primed to hate. And even at the level of primary-canon, one of the biggest ways the primary creator shows their emotional growth is by realizing their antagonists aren’t truly their enemy. Like most readers I had a tear in my eye as Cato suffered through the night, begging for death; and certainly I would have been outraged if Harry hadn’t saved Draco from the Room of Requirements in “Deathly Hallows.” Gollum’s treachery is explained and he is given his own completion; Darth Vader is spared by Luke and allowed to look on his son with his own eyes; and the Klingons, Cardassians, and Borg are given their own sort of redemption in Worf, Garak, and Seven of Nine.

All of which is to say: it’s understandable, even natural, why people would have a hard time rooting for the antagonist, but there’s a long history of fandom peoples steering into the curve on this one. So it’s also understandable, even natural, that people want to hear stories with them at the center, both new stories about them and also versions of the original canon narrative that don’t need them to wear the black hat all the time. Some folks want Mary, Sherlock, and John to all go crime-solving together. I personally think there’s sometimes a danger of turning an antagonist – especially one who is at least morally gray (and I promise we’re getting there) like Mary is – into a protagonist without wrestling with what turned them into an antagonist in the first place; so if you want to bring Mary back to the side of John and Sherlock you need to grapple with what pushed them into opposing roles in the first place, or else risk your plot feeling “cheap” and unearned. (In fairness, this warning could as easily be directed to Mofftiss as anyone in fandom!)

But at an absolute minimum, I think it’s pretty obvious that lots of fans want to imagine the antagonists as at the heart of their own stories, and lots of fan-creators have done a really good job of providing those stories. Just as a lot of fans will almost instinctively be drawn to hate them, well, if you want to go a different path you’re in good company.

Enough about protagonist/antagonist, which as I said is more about the role the character fills in the story than about their morality or character. This, for me at least, is where it really gets interesting.

Before we get started, though, I know a lot of people struggle against this idea of morality when it applies to fictional characters and fictional stories. They’ll point out (rightly) that just because they enjoy a non-con PWP doesn’t mean they approve of rape in real life; that their reading preferences come from a different place entirely than their moral judgments. But at the same time, a lot of people (equally rightly) struggle to enjoy stories that glorify things we don’t consider worth glorifying. It’s one thing to enjoy a story about Draco rejecting the Death Eaters, returning to mainstream wizarding society and joining the Aurors; quite another to imagine him dating Harry while he’s still walking around calling Hermione a mudblood.

Or getting back to the Sherlock fandom, a lot of people are most comfortable with stories with Mary’s the antagonist because she’s got a character history and just personality traits where, if we met someone like her in real-life, we’d consider her morally bad. Or on the flip slide, those fans who want a not-evil!Mary in their stories often like to imagine her as the kind of person we’d describe as good or redeemed or some such thing, if she were an actual person. Mary’s morality, at least the morality of a similar person operating in the real world (because --speaking as a former philosophy Ph.D. student who taught philosophical ethics for years-- let me tell you: talking about the morality of fictional constructs gets very messy, very quickly), seems to matter to a great number of fans. So let’s talk about that.

I said above I thought most people would agree, Mary had parts o her character that were bad-making. What I mean is there are aspects about her that tend to make a person bad, unless they’re explained by some other factor. I’ve got in mind something vaguely similar to W.D. Ross’s theories of prima facie duties (if any of you studied this in your Ethics 101 courses- you would have in mine). Basically, the idea is we have all these duties that apply to us, but they can seem to conflict, and we may decide (rightly) in any given situation that one or the other is the more important one for us to follow. The classic example is the duty to keep our promises and prevent suffering when we can. You can imagine situations where you can’t do both- for instance, if I promised to meet you for lunch and on my way to the restaurant came across a man who fell into a ditch and twisted his ankle along a deserted road, where it’s unlikely someone else would come upon him. If I stop to help him I’ll miss our lunch date and break my promise; and while I still have a duty to keep that promise, I think most people would agree it’s more important to stop and help the person. We’d all be hard-pressed to say if I helped the stranger, I’d failed at my duty to keep a promise; at least not in the same way as if I could have kept that promise and just chose not to. That’s Ross’s idea of prima facie duties: that we have all these general obligations on us, but which actually should govern our choices in any particular instance comes down to the details of that situation.

I think there’s something similar going on with Mary’s character. This is actually a good way to evaluate most of us morally, in my opinion, but it’s doubly useful when it comes to Mary because she’s simultaneously got so many troubling aspects about her that just demand some sort of justification, but at the same time, because Mofftiss really screwed the pooch here, we don’t really have the information we need to give a definitive answer. So it’s useful to say: here’s something about Mary that needs accounting for, even if we don’t have enough information to evaluate her definitively.

Let’s take Magnussen’s biggest accusation against her: “All those wet jobs.” Mary killed people on her own prerogative, and she left behind a lot of grieving relatives who would love their revenge – both a testament to the suffering she caused, and a real risk for John, the baby that will become Rosie, and everyone else in their orbit. But if that’s all there is to it, it’s not wholly dissimilar to John’s decision to shoot the cabbie. It may have been different, but we don’t have the information to know that; it feels different, but most because John was saving Sherlock (who we know), whereas if Mary was saving anyone, it’s not someone we the viewer have an emotional connection to. Still, to borrow a phrase from Ricky Ricardo, Mary, you’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do.

Or to take an even more serious charge, Mary shot Sherlock, was prepared to make John watch him die all over again and force him to go through that grief that so nearly destroyed him the first time around. Unforgiveable, yeah? The best shot at justification here is that Mary had somehow got herself cornered, so that shooting Sherlock was somehow an attempt to escape an even worse sitation. This really demands a full meta to dive in to, but very briefly, I think Mary never intended to kill Magnussen and was instead trying to intimidate him; meaning she couldn’t let Sherlock undercut her power, but equally she couldn’t leave Magnussen with the impression that John and Sherlock were somehow her partners; so shooting Sherlock was the best way to keep him from becoming a full target of Magnussen’s. If that’s the case, the whole showdown in Magnussen’s office becomes markedly similar to Sherlock’s decision to “kill” himself on the roof of St. Bart’s. Mary is willing to cause a lot of pain to avoid even greater destruction, but at the same time, the whole situation that compels this choice was fed by her limiting her options when she decided to intimidate Magnussen. Similar to how Sherlock, once he’s on the roof of St. Bart’s, has no better option than to fake his own death and leave John to grieve; but how he does have some degree of culpability for engaging Moriarty in the first place and egging on Moriarty’s destructive obsession with Sherlock.

My point isn’t that any of these parallels really hold up to scrutiny. Sherlock risked his own life in TRF (and John’s pain) while Mary was prepared to kill another. John was ready to kill “a bad man” to save our hero while whatever murders Mary committed were against unnamed people in undetermined circumstances, and narratively certainly don’t pull at or heart strings in the same way John’s heroic killing of Jefferson Hope does. But the point is, with Mary, so much of what a lot of fans object to involve these vaguely-told stories where whatever factors would excuse her actions just are left untold. What we can say definitively is “all those wet jobs” require justification. Mary’s willingness to shoot Sherlock require justification. These things are prima facie wrong (or bad-making, the kind of things that tend to make something bad in the absence of other explanations) and demand an accounting for.

I’m focusing on Mary’s violence more than what a lot of fans have identified as her abuse toward John. Partly, this is personal: I have my own experience with abusive relationships and don’t entirely trust my ability to parse similar dynamics in fiction; certainly I don’t want to tie that part of my past to public debate, and I’ve not worked out how to talk about Mary and John without over-personalizing it. But I will say, there’s a lot to be considered on that front as well, and people interested in thinking through Mary’s im/morality shouldn’t ignore it. As a starting point, inevity-johnlocked pointed to several of her old posts making the case that Mary was an emotional abuser. silentauroriamthereal’s fic “Rebuilding Rome” looks at a lot of these issues in a really powerful way if you’re looking for an exploration in fic form. I’ll just add, even if I thought Mary was justified and so “good” in some sense (and my internal compass is so screwed up, I’m not really qualified to tell at this point), the way she chose or had to lie about her past to John seems a particularly bad match for a man like him with his trust issues. So even if you think Mary is good, there’s a lot of justification for saying she’s still not good for him.

So what does this mean for reading fics involving a kinder, gentler Mary? First, I’d emphasize there’s no shame or judgment in reading what you want. Much as writers may choose to write about all kinds of things they’d disapprove of in real life, readers have that same freedom to scratch whatever readerly itch they like, with no need to defend that to anyone else. Kinktomato and all that. On the other hand, I know I personally enjoy stories more when I can lose myself in them, and – again, for me personally – it helps me do that if my values are at least compatible with what’s presented as praiseworthy. I don’t have to guard myself as I enter the story. So it’s definitely worth thinking about how comfortable you are with fiction that vilifies Mary or pardons her or something in between, because it may make it easier or harder to really immerse yourself in a fic.

Then again, maybe that’s just me. I am a rather persnickety chickadee with things like this.

I do know that many fandoms have an unfortunate history of coming down hard on the female competition to a popular slash ship. While I’m reluctant to apply “should”s to our consumption of fiction, I think there are genuine feminist concerns here. Not with thinking Mary’s bad/evil or even hating her, but hating her for the wrong. For me, it helps to imagine another character doing something similar, and think about why I would react differently if it was someone other than Mary doing the deed. Also to be aware of the details canon doesn’t answer decisively or answers different ways in different episodes.

(More than most characters, Mary does suffer from a really inconsistent characterization. I’ve often wondered if everything since HLV was Sherlock or whomever trying on different frameworks for her personality/psychology/what-have-you, to see which could account for what she did to him. First she’s a badass villain, then a Mycroftian operative, then a martyr, then a worldclass manipulator, and finally a sanctifier whose own personality was irrelevant, giving her imprimatur from beyond the grave. And that’s without throwing veteran/maths genius and happy homemaker into the bunch. Maybe the showrunners simply weren’t sure what they wanted to do with her. Whatever the situation, I do think we need to be careful about taking any one canon detail at face-value, especially with her.)

I’m also a little discomfited by this trend I’ve seen among Johnlockers, to write Mary as a monster as a way to lessen John’s pain at her… betrayal, I guess? Or just the loss at her death? I remember when a lot of fanfic authors back between S3 & S4 wrote about the baby being fake; or even after S4, as part of John’s “alibi” rather than a true detail. Or even just deciding the baby was David’s or some such. By itself, that could have been really interesting, but what I saw so often happening was people used that as a way to remove the complication of the baby. Or to let John skip the grief he’d feel if the baby wasn’t born healthy- for instance, if it didn’t exist, or died, or if Mary was killed or ran while she was still pregnant. The basic theme was if Mary didn’t deserve John’s pain, John didn’t have to hurt for so long or as deeply.

Complicated grief is a thing, though, and for a lot of people, grieving the loss of someone who hurt them and aren’t “worth” their pain seem to suffer worse and for longer, particularly if they also have to grieve the lost opportunity to make their peace with the person while they were alive. This doesn’t mean fanfic writers or readers have to give us some kind of sanitized Mary; certainly she has the potential to be a true east wind of a character. But I do think there’s a tendency to prefer a more evil Mary because this lets the story move past her or spares John some suffering often won’t feel true. It also runs the risk of disrespecting the suffering of people impacted by these kinds of losses. So while I think this kind of characterization can be really interesting and compelling, it also takes a lot of skill and thoughtfulness to do it well. Here be dragons.

For me, though, the point isn’t to be proscriptive, to say Sherlock fic writers and readers need to limit themselves to a particular read of Mary. Her character has such potential to give birth to such a wide range of fic. As a viewer of the show I wish the writers and other creators had given us more of a sense of who she was because I think it really contributes to my frustration with not understanding the story they were trying to tell. But as a (kinda-sorta-someday-once-again) fic writer, it’s a true embarrassment of riches. The trick, for those of us concerned about Mary’s ethics were she a real person, is to be aware of the dangers of reading her character certain ways and to be cautious around them if we want to play with those interpretations.

[janeofcakes]

KYFC..: Chapter 21 (Johnlock meets roller derby and gets off)

Hahahahaha!!! I couldn’t help adding a little silliness to the title of this, the last chapter. I want to thank all of you for your support and dedication, for going on this wonderful, mad journey with me into an AU I feel has been sadly neglected by Johnlockers. It has true potential, as I think we all see. This has been a joy, a true joy and I am so humbled and touched that all of you came along with me from beginning to end. I have to say I’m sorry to see this John and Sherlock go. I have grown to really like them, and the precious friendship between Sherlock and Molly. I think you’ll be seeing more of that from me in the future. Hopefully, I’ll be able to mix it up a bit so it doesn’t seem the same from one story to the next. Haha. Anyway, this is all stuff I should say at the end of the chapter. I’m getting ahead of myself, so I will stop and let you enjoy this last chapter. 

---

Never knew I could feel like this. Like I’ve never seen the sky before. Want to vanish inside your kiss. Seasons may change, winter to spring, but I love you until the end of time.                                                      -- Nicole Kidman & Ewan McGregor, Come What May

Ten days have passed since Greg pulled John from the waters of Lake Erie. Their lives, and the whole of roller derby in Detroit and their division, were thrown into utter chaos that evening and things haven’t settled down one bit. The loss of a coach, and especially under these circumstances, does not sit well with the league board. The Demons’ season is immediately suspended and the team’s remaining bouts all forfeited. Every member of the team and staff is to be questioned in the coming days to determine level of involvement in the conspiracy.

The police have their own investigation as well and, oddly enough, the two entities have cooperated quite well with one another. Moriarty, Moran, Sarah Sawyer and Janine are all behind bars awaiting trial on a number of charges. Janine confessed first, her conscience getting the best of her. She laid out the plan as it began and explained how it changed over time. They had poisoned Dr. Wiggins and planted Anderson within Rock City, but Anderson had been an idiot. His attraction to Sally Donovan and subsequent removal from the position proved to be his undoing. John would not have been alone in Lake Erie, had the plan to murder him been successful.

After hearing of Janine’s confession, and accepting a deal that lessened the extent of the charges against her, Sarah confirmed all Janine had said. She also revealed more details and pointed the finger at five Demon skaters, one of which had poisoned Molly with a hidden needle in her wrist guard, just as Sherlock thought. They were all arrested and confessed, three of the five had been coerced into helping. Sarah even agreed to take police to the spot where Anderson was dropped into the lake.

Sherlock, John and Greg have not been able to rest since returning to the Metropark marina. Between additional police interviews and statements, and flying to DC on more than one occasion to be interviewed by the Board, they have had time for little else. Select others have been interviewed as well: Molly, Harry and other skaters who were injured, Dr. Wiggins and Mrs. Hudson, many of the Rock City staffers. To his credit, Sherlock has kept the Rollers on their winning streak throughout all of it. Just as John had said, they voted unanimously to refuse any resignation Sherlock might try to submit. Mrs. Hudson agreed wholeheartedly, scolded Sherlock for even considering it, and planted a motherly kiss on his cheek. He had rolled his eyes and grumbled, but John could tell how much it meant to him.

***

Exhausted, Sherlock stumbles into his condo and drops the duffle on his shoulder. The laptop bag on his other shoulder goes down more gingerly. He shrugs out of his coat and hangs it by the door, noticing that John’s coat is no longer on the peg next to his. Of course. He had expected John would have moved out before his return. If he is honest, he thought John would be back at his own place within two days of Moriarty’s arrest, but he did not leave. Neither has he slept in Sherlock’s room. Granted, there has been a lot of traveling in the last ten days and not much time at home. Both he and John had to go to DC twice to appear in front of the Board, and they had also gone to St. Louis, Chicago and Memphis for bouts. Naturally, Moriarty’s plan had to blow up at the busiest traveling time in the season and Sherlock has no idea how long the Board’s investigation will last. At least they work their interviews around Rock City’s schedule. Just barely though. Tomorrow morning, bright and early, will see the team on a plane for Charlotte and then Raleigh. To top it all off, Sherlock had been summoned to DC a third time two days ago, leaving practices in the capable hands of Molly and Sally. 

Sherlock cracks his neck and debates upon checking in with them before trying to get some sleep. Packing his things for the morning and getting a shower before turning in would also be good. He sighs, his mind still lingering on something else. John is gone. He must be. It’s not like Sherlock will never see him again. He is still the team doctor. It just feels that way. An invisible finite end to it all. The same way his condo feels empty without that coat on the hook. He resists the urge to go into the spare bedroom and wallow in the scent John has left behind, but only just. Part of him wants to sleep in that bed tonight. A very big part.

Sherlock trudges into the kitchen, pops a flavor cup and mug into the coffee maker and turns it on. He rests his hands on the counter on either side of it and stares at it blankly as if it holds all the answers to the universe and everything. He had not wanted John to leave, but what was he to say? The danger has passed and they have only known one another a few months and yet… Sherlock huffs a mirthless laugh and scrubs his hands over his face. How could he ever expect John to stay? It’s absurd. How could Sherlock even ask him? How can he tell John he wants to spend his whole life with him and that they were always meant to be together when they are so new to all of this? God, he’s an idiot. None of it makes any sense in his head and yet, it makes perfect sense to him. It isn’t going to if he tries to say it out loud to John though. He shakes his head sorrowfully with a roll of his eyes. 

“I’m such an idiot,” Sherlock covers his face with his hands as his shoulders slump and he bows his head in defeat.

“I’m not saying I disagree,” a familiar voice says from the direction of the kitchen door, “but what specifically makes you an idiot this time?”

Sherlock’s head snaps up and he stands ramrod straight, looking into the crystal blue eyes of his wayward doctor. As if to punctuate his surprise, the coffee maker pings cheerfully to signal its cup is ready. John laughs softly and walks into the room, a white grocery bag hanging from his left hand. His eyes still on the startled coach, John sidles up to the counter and sets the bag next to the coffee maker.

“I thought you’d be gone,” Sherlock says in utter befuddlement.

“I was,” John smiles brightly. “I went to the market.”

“That’s not..” Sherlock’s expression finally returns to normal as his brain works through the shock. He narrows his eyes and looks at John wryly. “I thought you would have moved out by now. Obvious.”

“Oh, right,” John takes a short step back, suddenly much less sure of himself. Sherlock is screaming inside.

What the fuck are you doing, you idiot!

“I didn’t think… I should have done straight away, of course,” John stumbles over the words, losing his sure footing. “I got comfortable, I guess.”

“Right,” the word springs from Sherlock’s lips. He cannot seem to put together coherent thoughts or words and keeps saying the stupidest things possible. In the meantime. Every word he utters is sure to push John away. God, he really is an idiot.

“Right,” John parrots, his upper lip disappearing beneath the lower one.

An awkward silence hangs in the air between them as Sherlock struggles for words, wanting to physically kick himself. His mind feels like it is running overtime and he still cannot put what he wants to say to John into words. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out and he just furrows his brow instead. John nods ever so slightly and reaches for the grocery bag on the counter.

“I’ll just put these away, shall I?” Without waiting for an answer, John shuffles to a cupboard and places a box of his favorite tea bags inside. Then he moves to the refrigerator and puts a carton of milk and a few apples. The doctor loves the fruit, but will only eat it if it is cold. Sherlock tilts his head and cannot stop himself from silently marveling at how well he has come to know John’s idiosyncrasies in such a short time. John knows his too and they only seem to have made him more fond of Sherlock.

“I’ll be in my room,” John’s voice pulls him back from his reverie. “I’ll just pack. You’re right, I should have gone already. I mean, it’s all over, isn’t it?”

John disappears around the corner and Sherlock’s tense body immediately goes slack. He face palms with one hand and props himself up on the counter with the other. 

Jesus Christ. Idiot. Idiot! 

Sherlock turns toward the counter, pulls the coffee mug from the appliance and takes a sip. Frustration seeps from every pore. He resolutely does not want John to leave. Ever. Yet here he is more or less throwing him out. For whatever reason, John has not gone and does not seem to have any interest in doing so. Sherlock is not sure why, so he takes another sip and examines the evidence. John is definitely in love with him, but does he know it? Unclear. Although John was quite affectionate as they sailed back to Metropark, they have had no real physical contact or tender moments since they stepped off Greg’s boat. That would seem to indicate a desire to leave Sherlock’s condo or at least keep his distance if he stays. Maybe the doctor wants to be roommates like in those absurd sitcoms on NBC.

What the hell are you doing? Talk to him.

Sherlock sighs and sips the coffee again. He lets his eyes slip closed as the warm liquid slides down his throat, soothing and spreading comfort through his weary body. His chest feels noticeably warmer as the liquid passes through to settle in his stomach. He has eaten nothing but airline food, which is usually deplorable, since lunchtime and suddenly John’s homemade chili sounds absolutely delicious. Sherlock nearly moans at the thought and he tries not to visualize the two of them making the chili, cuddling on the couch, reading to one another or watching one of those awful spy movies John likes. Sherlock does not succeed in this endeavor. Not even a little. He sighs again and takes another sip of coffee, telling himself that the warmth spreading through him now is just from the hot liquid. 

“The thing is,” John’s voice sounds loud in the quiet room. Sherlock’s grey eyes pop open to see him standing just inside the door. John’s body is tense, every muscle tight as ripcord. “I don’t want to go.”

Sherlock lowers the mug from his lips, his gaze locked on John. The doctor takes a hesitant step and swallows hard.

“I’d like to stay,” John eyes him with uncertainty, searching for a hint of approval. “I want to stay.”

“Of course,” Sherlock splutters, recovering his wits. He is nodding a little too quickly. “You may stay as long as you like. I can arrange to have your things moved, if you like.”

“I don’t want to move into the spare bedroom,” John says without preamble.

“Oh?” Sherlock’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. Then his brows rise to the curls hanging down from his hairline, realization dawning. “Oh.”

The room is quiet. The two men stare at one another. Sherlock cannot believe, cannot allow himself to think John is saying what Sherlock so wants him to be saying. He must be misinterpreting the words. John must mean something else. Could he really be that brave? Sherlock looks at the doctor, lips parted and eyes wide. John could mean nothing else.

“Sherlock, we need to talk,” John says without looking away, though Sherlock can tell he would like to. “I’ve been meaning to, wanting to, but with all the traveling and confusion… I let it get away from me.”

“Erm,” Sherlock feels off balance. His mind that is always rapidly winding its way through thoughts, strategies and plans grinds to a halt. John wants to move into Sherlock’s room. With Sherlock. Has John figured it out? Sherlock dares not hope. He opens his mouth and remains silent, his vocal chords seemingly unable to vibrate and his mind struggling to turn its gears again. He swallows, trying to revive his dry throat. ”I...don’t know what to say.”

Oh, god. You idiot. Tell him you love the idea. Tell him you love him.

“Why don’t you let me do the talking?” John inches into the room. His hands are clenched at his sides, his movements stilted and anxious. He straightens his fingers and clenches them again, this time glancing at the floor for a split second. When he looks back at Sherlock, his eyes are resolute with a decision made.

“I… I haven’t done or said anything before now because I didn’t want you to think it was out of gratitude or some sense of obligation for saving my life,” John begins, his face open and sincere. “It’s nothing like that. I mean, I’m glad you found me, and brought Greg, and had such a brilliant bloody plan.”

“It was an awful plan,” Sherlock interjects in a clipped tone, placing his coffee mug on the counter and gesturing with one hand. “It was all I could think of under the circumstances.”

“Maybe, but it worked,” John insists.

“Moriarty is unpredictable, John,” Sherlock chides, shaking his head doubtfully. “There were so many variables.”

“Sherlock,” John warns.

“Any one of them could have changed everything,” the mad coach continues.

“They didn’t,” John interrupts, crossing the space between them and stepping right up into Sherlock’s personal space. He takes Sherlock’s hands in his own and Sherlock goes quiet in surprise. John’s hands are so warm and soft, the pads of his thumbs pressing into Sherlock’s palms gently. A small crackling sensation starts low in his belly and he cannot take his eyes off John. “I’m very glad you took the chance. You and Greg, but that’s not why I want to move in for good.”

“For good?” Sherlock leans back a bit to study John. He wrinkles his brow and watches as John’s expression melts into that of a man looking at something utterly adorable, like a puppy. Sherlock is not adorable. He makes a mental note to speak with John about it later. He will not interrupt this moment. John gives his hands a squeeze and answers Sherlock’s mumbled question:

“Yeah, if you’ll have me.”

Without much thought, Sherlock cocks a sharp brow that says it all. John laughs. 

“I know, I know,” John chuckles, but sobers quickly. “I just don’t want to take anything for granted.”

He bites his bottom lip and looks down at their joined hands. John moves his thumbs over the soft, pale skin and raises his sparkling eyes to Sherlock’s, conveying a depth of emotion that Sherlock can feel in his very soul.

“I decided so many things about myself long ago and just assumed they would never change, and they didn’t,” John shakes his head ever so slightly, “until I met you. It all changed. I don’t know when it started, but I can think of a dozen times right before all this happened when I should have known. I haven’t said because I really don’t want you to think it’s because you saved me like you did. It’s so much more important than that. You have to understand.”

The final few sentences he says in earnest, squeezing Sherlock’s hands as he does so. The coach searches his eyes and face. He knows exactly what John is talking about, but he has to hear him say it. It won’t feel real if John doesn’t say it out loud. Sherlock’s heart skips a beat and his eyes widen a fraction. Sherlock tries not to break into a foolish grin, but the corners of his mouth are already turning up of their own volition.

“What, John?” he asks with the spark of excitement in his voice. “What’s changed?”

“You have to understand,” John repeats and begins explaining with a shrug. He releases Sherlock’s hands in favor of putting one on his own hip and ruffling the hair on the nape of his neck with the other. As John speaks, he lifts Sherlock’s mug without thinking and takes a drink before placing it back on the counter. Never does he take his eyes off Sherlock. It is like he believes them under a spell that will break if they look away from one another. “I liked everyone I dated and was certainly attracted to them. I just didn’t...feel this way about them. I didn’t love them. I didn’t think I could love anyone.”

John pauses to wet his lips. Sherlock, still fighting an excited grin, nearly loses his composure at John’s expression. It lies somewhere between an earnest plea that Sherlock understand him and utter terror that he will.

“You’re different, Sherlock. You’re so different,” John says insistently. “You mean so much to me. You mean everything. I… I love you, Sherlock. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to figure it out. I’m just such an idiot. I can reason through a million different things in seconds, but not that. Not my own feelings for you, or I couldn’t, but now… Now I know. I love you.”

As soon as the words are out, all of the tension visibly drains from John’s body like water through a sieve. Looking relieved, he regards Sherlock with soft eyes and a crooked smile. Sherlock feels the grin he has tried so valiantly to hide, curl his lips as he marvels at John. Instead of being nervous or frazzled by the confession he just made, John seems more relaxed than Sherlock has seen in a long time. He deduces that all the uncertainty of having feelings for Sherlock but not knowing what they were had been a heavy burden on John’s shoulders. Knowing it himself and now having it out in the open, has made John positively giddy and Sherlock loves him for it.

“John,” his deep voice catches and he feels a pricking in the corners of his eyes. John places his hands on Sherlock’s forearms as if to hold them both steady.

“I love you, Sherlock,” John repeats emphatically, his voice bubbling with excited energy. “I want to be with you and never leave your side or your flat or the team. I want to be yours.”

He stops abruptly in much the same way Sherlock has while making such declarations and it warms Sherlock’s heart. The very words themselves had flown from John’s lips with such speed that they clearly got the better of him and he said far more than intended. Of course, Sherlock doesn’t mind at all and John seems to have picked up on it because the fear that was in his eyes has gone, replaced by affection and elation. 

“If you’ll have me, of course,” John completes the thought with a cheeky wink.

Sherlock lets himself grin from ear to ear, but only for a moment before fixing John with a haughty gaze and pulling his arms free of John’s grasp.

“Really, John, you are an idiot,” he says sharply. “For someone who is so ‘bloody brilliant’ you are incredibly stupid. You should have arrived at this conclusion as soon as you moved in.”

“Oh, yeah?” John huffs a laugh and reaches for the man’s hips. “And what makes you think that?”

“I don’t think, John. I know,” Sherlock stares him down with a glare that has no heat and lets himself be pulled closer. He keeps his arms crossed over his chest and looks down at John imperiously. “All the necessary data was there, but like Mrs. Hudson, you see…”

“But do not observe?” John asks him with a knowing smirk and nudges at Sherlock’s arms, but they remain steadfast.

“Of course in your case, you didn’t even see it,” Sherlock adds in mock consideration. “You just barreled on, ignoring it entirely. Very shortsighted for a person of your intelligence.”

“All right, all right,” John laughs fondly and pulls the lanky coach close. Their hips press together and Sherlock encircles John with his long arms, grinning down at him. John matches it, but then quickly tries for serious again. He does not pull it off in any sense and looks so adorable trying that Sherlock’s heart gives a squeeze.

“So,” John begins, still trying to chase away the smile from his own face, “do you think you can manage living with my egregious lapses in judgment? I know it’ll be difficult to cope. Should I pack my things?”

“Hmm,” Sherlock hums, tilting his head and pretending to consider John carefully. “I’ll muddle through. No sense in turning you out. I’m sure you can be taught.”

John huffs a laugh as he snakes a hand up Sherlock’s chest to cup the taller man’s cheek. 

“I count myself lucky for that,” he says as he closes the gap for a chaste kiss. Sherlock feels every nerve tingle like electricity racing through his body. God, how he has longed for this moment. To kiss John with all his love, all his emotion and have John feel it for him in return. It is heaven on earth.

Sherlock chases John’s mouth when he starts to pull away and flicks his tongue quickly over John’s lips when he catches them. John hums in approval and raises his other hand to hold both sides of Sherlock’s face. The man imitates the posture and peppers John’s lips with kisses before settling into a long, wet one. Filled with promise, Sherlock teases John’s mouth open and their tongues slide together.

John deepens the kiss, his left hand now buried in Sherlock’s curls. Sherlock licks inside, eager to taste and claim. They have done this before, but now John is truly his and it is like the first time. It is delicious. There are no doubts or questions between them. John knows he loves Sherlock. He said it. Out loud. Sherlock’s body feels so light and every nerve tingles with the press of a thousand needles. It should be unpleasant, really, like when an appendage falls asleep, but it is exhilarating and Sherlock welcomes it. It makes it all real. Sherlock is not going to wake up the way he has dozens of times before. This is really happening.

Their kisses growing heated now, Sherlock’s hands skim down John’s spine.  He squirms under the feather-light touch, a ticklish spot to tuck away for the future. Sherlock’s palms come to rest on John’s ass, his fingers giving the right cheek a light pinch. John smiles against Sherlock’s lips.

“You like my ass,” he chuckles and nips.

“Damn right I do,” Sherlock replies in a husky tone and gives John’s lower lip a suck. 

“That’s all right,” John growls, his eyes growing dark. “I like yours too.”

He slides his hands around Sherlock’s back and spreads his fingers over both luscious cheeks. He gives them a squeeze. He has not yet had the pleasure or the opportunity to property address his fascination with Sherlock’s luxurious backside and the lanky coach is more than happy to let him indulge. Sherlock most certainly wants a chance at John’s body too. Mmmm, what John said is true. He is no Greek god, but he is far from ordinary. He is beautiful and his physique is perfectly glorious in Sherlock’s eyes. He wants to touch it and kiss it, all of it. He wants to worship every inch of it. 

“Oh god, I wanna sink my teeth into it,” John nearly moans, smearing a messy kiss over Sherlock’s lips as he kneads his lovely ass. Sherlock kisses back just as hot and wet. John says something else, but Sherlock is lost in his own mind with visions of John’s naked form spread out before him. He drinks in all the skin he can touch and suck and kiss. A full body shudder overtakes him when he thinks about letting a stray finger slip between John buttocks...or his tongue. 

Sherlock’s vision snaps back into focus and his body goes stiff. Every part of his body, and John is seconds away from realizing it. He panics for a moment, wondering if he should pull away before it is too late. John may have confessed his love, but he did not specify the rate at which things would move forward. It is true that they had sex in Baltimore, but Sherlock does not want to assume…

“Stop thinking,” John mutters, pulling Sherlock close and looking into his eyes. “I can hear you thinking.”

John grins as he holds the coach steady while he presses a passionate kiss to his full lips. Sherlock melts into it, his mind and body turning to jelly.  Well, not all of his body. A quiet noise of surprise escapes John’s lips when Sherlock’s burgeoning erection presses into his hip. A jolt of exhilaration and lust rushes through them, renewing the heat of their kisses. It is maddening and fucking spectacular all at once. God, they can’t move fast enough.

John begins nudging this way and that until he is a few steps from Sherlock’s bedroom. He kicks the door open wide when they reach it. The kisses don’t stop as they move. Nothing stops. Their hands are grasping and clutching and holding close until Sherlock fists his fingers in John’s sweater and pulls it over his head. John drops his arms again as soon as the article of clothing is free of them. He holds the nape of Sherlock’s neck with one of them as he licks into the man’s mouth. Sherlock returns it just as fervently, their tongues sliding together, tracing teeth and lips. Sherlock holds either side of John’s waist with an iron grip. He wants to hold even tighter and never let go, to always be at the side of this amazing man. The pad of a finger strays onto a narrow patch of skin left exposed by a t-shirt that rucks up from John’s jeans. Unable to resist, Sherlock grabs at the hem of the tee with both hands and pulls the soft fabric up to John’s chest. The doctor breaks free from the kisses to look at Sherlock with blown pupils full of desire. They are still for a moment, looking into one another’s burning eyes, blinking slowly and taking in every detail. 

His gaze not straying from Sherlock’s thin grey irises, John slowly raises his arms over his head. Sherlock wets his lips and lifts the shirt just as slowly over John’s head and arms and hands and drops it to the floor. Then he traces down John’s arms with unhurried fingertips, watching the blue of his eyes grow smaller and smaller until only a sliver remains. His fingers continue to trace over the muscles of John’s chest and stomach before he doubles back to rest his palms on John’s pectorals. John lowers his own arms in a fluid motion, fingers skimming down his back and places his hands on either side of Sherlock’s slim waist. He shuffles back again and bumps into Sherlock’s tall bed.

“What the hell?” John snickers, trying to look back at it. “The mattress is as tall as a table. Perfect for sitting on?”

Sherlock does not have an answer for John’s joke, so he shrugs and lets out a quiet laugh without breaking eye contact. 

“Seriously, why the hell is it so high?” John continues in a jocular tone. “Something to do with your mile-long legs?”

“There are drawers under it,” Sherlock shrugs again after a moment, leaning in to place a soft kiss on John’s throat before straightening his neck to look at John. “I need the storage space.”

The doctor bursts out laughing, closing his eyes and gently swatting at the coach with his left hand. When he opens them again, it is to see a very indignant Sherlock staring back and John tries to hide his grin. He fails, of course, his face is so bright and merry it could light the sky. His conductor of light.

“What?” Sherlock asks, affronted. “I keep extra skates and gear in them.”

“No, no. Of course you do. It makes perfect sense,” John looks at him fondly, a wide smile stretching his lips. “God, I love you.”

He kisses Sherlock once softly and then lowers himself to sit on the bed. John reaches for him and slowly opens the buttons of his shirt, one by one, never taking his eyes off Sherlock’s. When John reaches the last one above the waistband of his bespoke charcoal trousers, he pushes the fabric open to reveal Sherlock’s pale chest and stomach. John leans in to lick a stripe over the left nipple while gently pinching the right. Sherlock moans and keens at the light touch of his rather unexpected ministrations. Jesus, it’s amazing. He cards his fingers through John’s short, blonde hair and throws his head back when John bites gently at his nipple.

“Oh god, John,” Sherlock gasps. “Don’t stop.”

John chuckles low and gravelly as he continues and it’s all Sherlock can do to keep his toes from curling in his shoes. When John does stop, he looks into Sherlock’s eyes and pulls at his body gently, gesturing backward toward the headboard. Sherlock’s lips curl into a half smile and he nods minutely. John shifts back as Sherlock leans forward and places his hands on the bed on either side of John. He raises a knee and plants it on John’s left side, the other on the right side and he crawls up and onto his doctor. With a sensuous smile on his lips and half-lidded eyes, John rests his back on the soft mattress and Sherlock works his way up the man’s body, straddling his hips. He kisses along John’s jawline and licks the shell of his ear with the tip of his tongue. John squirms under his touch. Another ticklish spot to store away in his mind palace. Exploring John’s body is becoming very interesting to say the least. 

Sherlock moves to John’s neck and collar bones, licking his way from one side to the other. He licks into the suprasternal notch and then rests his head against John’s chest. The smooth skin is soft on his cheek and he inhales deeply. Sherlock has never felt more comfortable or more at ease with anyone in his life. It is mind boggling and absolutely perfect. He raises his head to rest his chin on John’s chest and meets his eyes.

“How did you come to me?” Sherlock whispers, shaking his head slightly. “I was certain I would never love again.”

He tilts his head and looks at John with a thoughtful expression. The doctor gazes back and brushes the curls from Sherlock’s forehead with gentle fingers. 

“After Victor,” Sherlock sighs heavily, a note of sorrow creeping into his tone, “I vowed to never give my heart to anyone again. Then I walked into Greg’s office and there you were. My stomach flipped just at the sight of you.”

“What? You’re not serious,” John huffs an incredulous laugh. “No, you’re having me on. You avoided me for days. Weeks. I was convinced you didn’t like me at all.”

“I did like you, John, and that is precisely why I avoided you,” Sherlock replies almost accusingly. “I was trying to keep my distance and stay out of trouble.”

“Yeah, well, a valiant effort,” John chuckles with a knowing glint in his eye. He brushes that errant curl away from Sherlock’s forehead again. “Didn’t work though, did it?”

“No,” Sherlock says simply.

“And that’s… good?”John hesitates, suddenly unsure of Sherlock’s meaning. Unacceptable.

“Very good,” Sherlock lowers his voice an octave and fixes John with a searing gaze that both disarms the doctor and convinces him that Sherlock’s answer is true. 

John’s shoulders, in fact his whole body, relaxes into the mattress and he smiles up at Sherlock. He hides nothing, his face is completely open. Sherlock studies him a moment, just to make sure everything is right, because he has to know and he can’t stop himself. He can see in John’s eyes that he knows what Sherlock is doing and he nods, every so slightly, his approval. 

Sherlock reads him in an instant and sees love so deep, it could hold the ocean and still not fill up, and John knows. He knows what he feels and that Sherlock loves him back, and he is not frightened in the least. Sherlock leans more heavily into the muscles and flesh of John’s chest again, suddenly overwhelmed by his deductions. He takes a deep, grounding breath and focuses on nothing in particular over John’s left shoulder. His nerves must show because John cups his face gently and strokes his thumb over a cheekbone.

“It’s okay,” John whispers into the space between them. “There is no time table here. We do things at our own pace. I won’t push. I know what I said...about wanting to stay, but if it’s too fast… I’ll go back to my place, if you want.”

“You most certainly will not,” Sherlock announces in a petulant and forbidding tone with an expression to match. He lifts himself to prop on his elbows and glares down at John.

“Okay, okay,” John laughs. “I get it. You want me to...stay.”

The last word comes out slowly as John traces Sherlock’s cheekbone with great care, gentle affection on his face. Sherlock flashes a small, but brilliant smile and lowers his head to catch John’s lips with his own. The kiss is unhurried, not at all like the ones they shared before, but it is no less passionate. Love radiates from one man to the other like heat and both have a heady feeling when they part.

“This is your bed now,” Sherlock breathes and god, he can’t wait to spend a whole night in it with John. Tonight and every night after, and each one will feel like the first time all over again. He can see it in his mind palace. The two of them tucked under the blankets, resting their heads on one another, talking and kissing and touching.

“Our bed,” John’s soft voice pulls Sherlock from his reverie just as it was becoming interesting. He looks into John’s eyes and sees a promise meant only for him. A warm feeling moves slowly  through his body, beginning where John’s thumb still touches his cheekbone. It is like the point of light in Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. It has brought Sherlock out of the darkness and back to life.

Sherlock covers John’s hand with his own and tilts his head into the touch. He is calm, serene, and it is a new feeling for him. Sherlock typically has a thousand things rolling around in his head and that constant state of motion, fluid though it is, comes with a certain degree of tension. That is when it hits him: His mind is clear. Not blank, not at all. Everything is still there in the great room of his mind palace, the room that acts as the meeting point for all of his thoughts, but it’s...clear...and quiet. Every thought is neatly stored and no one item, or group of items, screams for his attention. He is free. His mind is free. Free to focus on John, only John.

John.

Sherlock turns his head into John’s hand as he holds it close and presses a gentle kiss to his palm. He blinks once slowly and does not move a muscle. Neither does John as he stares back into steady grey eyes. They gaze at one another for an untold amount of time. Sherlock spends a great deal of it soaking in the many shades of blue in John’s eyes and naming them. Some are obvious: cerulean, oxford, cobalt, Persian, sapphire, and pale blue. Some he has never seen before and names himself: captain blue, sea salt, Hamish. Sherlock chuckles softly at the humor of the last one and John tilts his head curiously.

“What?” John asks with an answering grin and then jokes. “Something on my nose?”

“No,” Sherlock laughs again, “nothing like that. It’s just...you. I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe I’m letting myself do this again. I know, I know.”

He shifts an arm to put a finger on John’s lips when he makes to object. Sherlock fixes him with a serious eye, his mouth drawn into a thin line. 

“I shouldn’t compare you to him, or this relationship to that one, but it’s so hard,” Sherlock sighs and slides off of John’s body. Lying on his side flush against John, Sherlock props up on one elbow and rests his head on his hand, leaving his other hand to stroke John’s chest in smooth patterns. “I collect data, John. You’ve seen me do it. I’ve done it to you. It’s in my nature to compare and contrast that data.”

“Sherlock, that’s okay. That’s you,” John folds an arm around Sherlock’s shoulders, to hold him gently to his naked torso. The skin exposed by Sherlock’s open shirt touches John’s and it is delicious, hot and smooth. “If you have done it to me then you know I am nothing like Victor, and could never be.”

Sherlock opens his mouth, but John holds up a finger this time and gives him a very serious look, brows raised like an actor who has messed up his line and is trying to keep everyone else from laughing so they can continue filming.

“No, no, okay?” John says by way of keeping Sherlock quiet. There is a short pause between them as they both look into one another’s eyes. “You say you compare and contrast it. I think you’ll see more differences than similarities in me and our relationship, and it’ll work in our favor. Hopefully.”

He adds the last word with some hesitation and an awkward smile. Sherlock rests his hand on John’s head, stroking through his short hair. He wears a fond expression, one corner of his mouth quirking up.

“Absolutely,” Sherlock tells him with assurance. “You bear no resemblance whatsoever. It’s just…”

He stops, paused in time. He cannot tear his eyes from John’s deep blue gaze. So honest and open, and also concerned. His forehead is wrinkled and his brows are still raised as he waits for Sherlock to find the words.

“I vowed I would never love again. I’ve spent years blocking out romantic love and emotion. I had a plan for my life,” he explains in earnest, “and then you happened.”

They are both silent. The words hang in the air around them and John’s expression is unreadable. Or is it? John almost looks nervous, but surely that can’t be. Sherlock is the one confessing his fears. Well, not fears...his past. Everything he decided long ago when he was still hurt and bleeding, when he thought love would only bring him pain. That was all changed the moment he met John and now Sherlock looks ahead to their future together with a hope and excitement he thought he would never have. He just can’t seem to find the words to say it. Sherlock wrinkles his own brow in frustration.

“And that’s... good?” John’s voice rises more than normal at the question and Sherlock frowns. None of this is working. He is trying to explain himself and is only making things worse. He must find the words to put John’s concerns, concerns he stirred up in the first place, to rest.

“Very good. Fantastic,” Sherlock says quickly. Too quickly and he still sees the doubt in John’s eyes. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

He tilts his head in his hand and rests the other on John’s chest again as he looks him in the eye. His breath catches as he tries to continue. He can feel the beat of John’s heart beneath his palm, strong and sure. It’s steadiness keeps this man alive and Sherlock with him.

“I felt something for you immediately,” the words tumble from Sherlock’s lips and he is not even sure where they are coming from because his mind feels blissfully empty, save John. ”That’s no secret. I tried to resist, but it was a hopeless endeavor, and then it filled me and my soul. After that it became a battle with myself to not express my feelings.”

“Not express them?” John looks at Sherlock straight on, confusion plain on his face. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me? Why hide it like that?”

“I didn’t want to frighten you off,” Sherlock shrugs, looking at him meaningfully. “You were determined you couldn’t love anyone and it was all so new between us. I knew you would run if I announced that I loved you, if for no other reason than to keep me from being hurt.”

John’s brows lower with his narrowing eyes. His lips press into a thin line with down-turned ends. Sherlock can see his warring thoughts in the lines on his face. John used to be so guarded and Sherlock could seldom deduce him after that first day, but more recently, since Baltimore, John has let Sherlock see and know more. Now is no exception as John debates between denying Sherlock’s assertion or agreeing with it.

John opens his mouth to protest. His eyes are sharp and his brow knitted in disapproval. He inhales, readying to speak the denial on his lips, and then his expression softens. He lets his shoulders sink back into the mattress as the tension in his muscles loosens.

“Fuck,” John mutters, looking down at Sherlock’s hand still resting on his chest. “You’re probably right,” he looks up to meet Sherlock’s eyes. “I probably would have.”

The corners of John’s mouth curl up slightly, but his eyes look pained and regretful. It is a sad smile he wears and Sherlock wants to kiss it away. He slides his hand down to touch John’s arm almost shyly and John’s face brightens. He blinks slowly, just once, his blue gaze on Sherlock. John’s smile grows as he brushes that same wayward curl off of Sherlock’s forehead and looks at him fondly. 

“For the record, when you did say it, it was good. Brilliant. I couldn’t believe my luck,” John beams, even as Sherlock gives him a haughty shake of his head.

“You didn’t believe me,” he retorts, swatting John’s bicep.

“Can you blame me?” John asks in a defensive tone. “We’d only just met and...and you’re you.”

“What?” Sherlock wrinkles his nose. “What are you talking about?”

“And I’m me,” John continues without acknowledging the question.

“John Watson,” Sherlock stops him in a commanding tone, “are you implying that I am ‘out of your league’?”

“Well,” John swallows and pulls back a bit for a better look at Sherlock, hesitant and pensive. “Yeah, actually.”

Sherlock huffs.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” he straightens his long neck to gaze down at John imperiously. “That is utter nonsense. What on earth would lead you to that conclusion?”

“Oh, come on,” John snarks. “You’re beautiful.”

“And you are a golden-skinned surfer with a brilliant mind,” the coach quips. “Honestly, John, you do not do yourself justice.”

“All right, maybe,” John remarks hastily, shifting his body restlessly. “What I meant to say is that once you did tell me how you felt, I didn’t know what to say, but I was glad you told me. I did feel lucky and happy. However confused I was about my own feelings, it made me feel…” 

John hesitates and glances away from Sherlock’s face to pale chest, biting his lower lip and second guessing himself. Sherlock gives his arm a squeeze of reassurance to let John know that he can always speak his mind without worry. John sighs deeply, still not raising his eyes.

“This is going to sound stupid,” John finally looks at him with soulful eyes. “It made me feel...well, warm. And safe and...free somehow. That’s the exact opposite of how I’ve felt in literally every other relationship I’ve been in. I knew it was something different, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around what it was.”

“I knew you loved me,” Sherlock confesses and then adds. “Before you told me.”

“What?” John’s gaze is on him now, unwavering. He wears a critical frown and his face is scrunched up in a way that usually precedes grumpiness. God, why did Sherlock even say that?

“But I had no way of knowing whether or not you would realize it,” the words pop from his mouth before he can stop them. John’s frown deepens. What the hell is Sherlock doing? Is forcing an argument really the best way to spend their first night in their bed?

“Wait, what?” John asks again, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“And then Moriarty took you.” Jesus Christ, is there no way to stop this outpouring of idiocy? What is wrong with him? Sherlock fidgets in John’s arms, pulling away and thinking about how quickly he can dash into the bathroom.

“Sherlock, stop. Stop,” John curls his arm tighter around Sherlock’s shoulders and lays a hand on his bicep, both regain his attention and keep him from running. They meet eyes once again and Sherlock notices that John’s are soft and searching, not at all like the growing annoyance he expected to see. “You knew I loved you, but didn’t think I would figure it out? You didn’t think I’d return your feelings?”

“Yes,” Sherlock answers honestly. No point in denying anything now. John lets out a quick breath, almost like sigh but with a sound of dismay to it.

“And you were just going to resign yourself to that?” his tone is light, as though tip-toeing around a subject that would make Sherlock suddenly realize what a fool he had been to pin his hopes on John. As if anything could ward him away from this man.

“I wasn’t resigning myself to anything,” Sherlock snaps defensively. “You had expressed your interest and clearly cared for me. It was only a matter of your own self-realization.”

“Right,” John replies unconvinced. 

Sherlock gives a frustrated sigh and resolutely ignores the doctor’s skepticism as he trails a hand down John’s sleek chest to his belly, coming to rest on his belt buckle. John shivers, but does not lower his eyes or even glance away from Sherlock’s.

“It doesn’t matter now anyway,” Sherlock announces with certainty. “You did realize it.”

John is still staring and silent.

“Problem?” the taller man asks, beginning to wonder how they got on this subject and wishing they hadn’t if John is going to look at him like that.

“What? No. No, I guess not,” John replies almost absently. He has the distinct appearance of someone trying to organize a great many thoughts. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to settle.”

“Settle?” Sherlock repeats in an incredulous tone.

“Yeah,” John confirms. “For the likes of me.”

“Don’t be absurd,” Sherlock says dismissively, sitting up in the bed.

“I’m serious,” John sits up and turns his body to face him fully, bending his legs and tucking one under the other. “If I had never pulled my head out of my ass… Sherlock, why are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry, John, I am,” Sherlock tries to stifle his mirth, but still giggles in between every other word. “The very idea that being with you is ‘settling’ is such nonsense.”

John’s frown grows as he watches Sherlock continue to laugh at his expense. The taller man shakes his head and places a hand on John’s naked chest. The skin is warm to his cool fingers and palm, and his heart flutters behind his ribs. His laughter finally fades and the eyes he casts upon John have a solemnity they had not before.

“You are the kindest, bravest and wisest man I have ever known. To see that as settling for anything is preposterous. I would stay by your side with a smile on my face until the world ends,” Sherlock cuts off his voice with the snap of his mouth closing, but not quickly enough.

Jesus Christ, he really is an idiot. That sounded like nothing less than a marriage proposal or at the very least, ‘I’m fully committed to you. Let’s stay together forever’. For god’s sake, he just told John he didn’t want to drive him away. So the next natural step is to, of course, bring up the desire for a life-long relationship.

Fuck.

Sherlock closes his eyes slowly as the full magnitude of his stupidity washes over him. He wants to jump off the bed, lock himself into the nearest room master bath, and disappear into his mind palace for at least a month. Frankly, he is surprised John hasn’t beaten him to it. Seems like the appropriate response for what he just blurted. That’s when Sherlock realizes that John has not moved. Not an inch. In fact, there is a gentle pressure on Sherlock’s knee like John is actually touching him instead of fleeing. It is warm and welcoming, and exudes no hesitance or awkwardness.

Armed with that knowledge, and curious as hell, Sherlock opens his eyes to see John still sitting before him. He wears a small and somewhat disbelieving, but pleased smile. The hand on Sherlock’s knee gives a little squeeze that actually tickles. He suppresses the urge to jerk away or move at all, wanting to hide the ticklish spot from John. He has observed a few such areas on John’s body and wants to keep the upper hand. Unfortunately, his efforts seem to be in vain because John’s expression does nothing less than advertise the fact that he knows exactly what he has just found. Aside from that, John’s face is difficult to interpret.

“John,” Sherlock begins abruptly, set upon laughing this off or explaining it away.

“Really?” John interrupts in a quiet tone that brims with anticipation and...hope?

Sherlock frowns and fixes John with a probing gaze, presenting the polar opposite of what is going on in his mind. His mind palace has just run completely off the rails with joy. He would be leaping through the air as ticker tape fell from above if he didn’t feel the need to maintain a cool and collected exterior until he can suss this out. Sherlock takes a moment to consider John’s demeanor, posture and this one word he has uttered. He cannot believe what is found: 

Against all odds, John is pleased, pleased by Sherlock’s verbal diarrhea. 

Sherlock blinks once, twice, a third time. His body is entirely still. He cannot believe his ears and must be dreaming. This conversation cannot be real, but it is. Energy and electricity pulse through Sherlock’s body with frightening speed as excitement fills his veins and threatens to burst from their thin walls. He wants nothing more than to throw his arms open wide and shout to the heavens that John Watson wants to spend his entire life with him, Sherlock Holmes, but he must remain calm and rational now. He doesn’t want to overwhelm John and has to pace himself.

“Yes,” Sherlock answers honestly, his eyes widening as he does. That is not at all what he had planned to say. Paralyzed, his surprise so complete he cannot even berate himself for this slip-up. He simply watches John with trepidation and regret. God, why didn’t he just lie? He could have said any number of things, the least of which was ‘Hell, yeah, I meant it’.

Sherlock is about to close his eyes a second time, but does not. Instead, they widen further as the corners of John’s mouth turn up into a big and very genuine smile. John’s thumb slides smoothly back and forth over Sherlock’s knee, and light dances in his blue eyes.

“Me too,” John says in a voice so sincere that the words jet straight into Sherlock’s soul and his heart swells with a kind of joy he could never conceive of without this man. He has found it. His perfect puzzle piece, as his mother used to say. Molly calls it the other half of his heart. His lobster. Wait, what? Goddamn those absurd NBC sitcoms for entering his psyche! 

Whatever the label, he and John were meant to be.

Without another thought, Sherlock’s hand raises to touch John’s cheek deftly. He nearly jerks with the jolt of electricity that whizzes through his body anew and nearly snatches his hand back at the shock of it. He silently marvels at it. Its surprise and pleasure, its comfort. How can just one touch mean so much? Sherlock almost laughs at himself. He is handling John more carefully than anything in his life and apparently, John finds it just as amusing.

“I won’t break,” the doctor chuckles quietly. His hand on Sherlock’s knee is warmer than ever now. The flesh beneath his trousers simmers at the touch of it. Sherlock huffs a breath.

“I know. It’s just…” he wets his lips. Every inch of Sherlock’s body tingles with anticipation and desire, but he holds his hand steady. He sighs, damn near frustration. “God, I want to touch you. I want all of you.”

“I want that too,” John gazes deeply into those grey eyes and leans forward to graze his lips over Sherlock’s, eliciting a gasp from the coach. “So come and get me.”

He slides his hand up Sherlock’s long thigh, stopping dangerously close to his groin. Sherlock gasps again as his body tingles and tenses. John’s lips quirk up and he slides his hand up over Sherlock’s belt to the skin exposed by his open shirt. He sighs when he rests his fingertips against Sherlock’s belly and an undisguised shiver runs through John’s body.

“John,” the name comes out in a quiet rush of breath. Sherlock’s hand lifts of its own volition and cradles John’s cheek. The doctor leans into the touch, his sparkling eyes speaking to Sherlock as clearly as any words could. 

Yes.

The fingers of both hands are dancing up Sherlock’s torso now. Palms that push the shirt open further come to rest on his chest and John’s eyes glide up the remainder of the way, drinking in his long pale neck and sharp cheekbones until John meets Sherlock’s eyes with an adoring gaze. The coach’s lips part as he feels the gravity of it and oh, how he wants. He wants to touch John and feel his body pressing back. He absolutely cannot wait another minute.

Sherlock leans forward, letting his eyes close just before his lips press against John’s. Another gentle kiss and he pulls back to look at his lover again. John looks amazing and wrecked and hungry, so hungry. His gaze darts down to Sherlock’s mouth and back up. His palms burning hot on Sherlock’s pectorals, pressed over peaked nipples. It feels exquisite. God, it feels perfect.

Sherlock swoops back in, this time with his mouth open and his tongue licking along John’s lips. The doctor parts them and the wet heat of their mouths coalesce, sharing the same breath. Their tongues slide together and Sherlock tilts John’s head with his hands on either side of John’s face to deepen the kiss. John’s fingertips dig into the skin of Sherlock’s chest, his fingers instinctively curling to grab a fistful of shirt where it has already been pushed aside. He knows just how the doctor feels. He wants to be closer, deeper, stronger. He wants to touch every inch of John’s body with his own. He wants to be on top of him again, inside him.

Surging forward, Sherlock pushes John onto his back with force, their lips never parting. John’s hands are on his shoulders, pushing the shirt off of them. Sherlock releases the doctor’s face long enough to tear the sleeves from his own arms and throw the shirt to the floor. His hands are instantly back on John’s body, holding him while they kiss and lick and suck at one another’s lips and tongues. Sherlock breaks away to mouth down John’s neck, lick, nibble and suck along his collarbones. 

“Jesus, Sherlock,” John moans. His hands stroke the man’s back, gliding up his neck and tangling in his curls. “God, yes. Yes.”

Sherlock takes a nipple between his lips and sucks. He flicks with the tip of his tongue and smiles around his ministrations as John writhes beneath him.

“Shit,” John curses breathlessly while Sherlock moves to the other nipple. His hands rove over his lover’s body as he thrusts up to meet it. “Fuck. Come here. Come here now.”

His hands cup Sherlock’s face and pull him up gently, but firmly to crash their lips together again. For god knows how long, they both give and take in turn, caressing and lavishing attention on one another. Sherlock yelps when John heaves his body unexpectedly and rolls them over so his legs astride the man’s hips. His hands are in between their bodies, scrabbling at Sherlock’s belt and trousers. The coach reaches down to help, but focuses on John’s zipper instead. They each scramble to get their own trousers off, John rolling off of Sherlock to divest himself of every stitch of clothing on his body.

When they meet again, they are on their sides and kissing with passion, a frenzy of emotion each can feel down to his core. Their arms are wrapped around each other, groins rubbing frantically. Both moan at the friction and buck their hips, desperate for more. Climax is ever-present, getting closer, so close, and then Sherlock stops. He pulls away to catch his breath and looks at John with his cheeks flushed pink and lips kiss swollen. Beautiful.

“What?” John gasps, his brow already wrinkled with worry. He swallows and pants, searching Sherlock’s eyes. “What is it? Is it too much? I can slow down. We can go slow if you need to, if you need some time.”

“No,” Sherlock blurts between gasps. “I don’t want slow.”

Sherlock presses his lips together and then parts them, taking a little time to regain control of his rapid breathing. John does the same, still watching him with concern. Finally, Sherlock bites his lip and places a hand on John’s naked hip. The skin is on fire and Sherlock nearly moans at the heat of it.

“I want you,” he begins tentatively. “All of you and god, I can have you. I want...I want to be inside you.”

Sherlock finishes in a rush as if he has to sneak the words past John so he will agree before he realizes what has been said. Sherlock has never felt more nervous in all his life. No championship has ever come close to this, and he is beginning to think he has fucked everything up because John is just staring at him, agog. He isn’t even blinking. Shit. Shit. Sherlock cringes at his own presumption and stupidity. John had mentioned this before - there’s no fucking way Sherlock could forget - but he had turned him down. Sherlock had wanted it. Of course, he did, but he had wanted John to know he loved Sherlock before they took that step, even if it meant they would never take it. Now has he ruined things by bringing it up without ever explaining himself first?

An apology on his tongue, Sherlock opens his mouth, but John speaks before he can say a word and the doctor’s words render him mute with shock.

“You would want to do that?” John’s voice is quiet and startled. “Before, you said no. I thought...you didn’t want that… with me.”

“No. No, no, no,” Sherlock cups John’s face in his hands. His voice is urgent, but soft. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never meant to make you feel that. I just...wanted you to know you loved me before we…” he sighs deeply and allows himself this vulnerability. “It’s important to me. I don’t just take men to bed.”

“I know. I know, and I do,” John breathes and cracks a small smile. “I love you, Sherlock. God, I love you so much.”

Sherlock grins brightly at those words, his whole face shining, and he leans in to kiss his doctor. It is only a tender brush of lips, but it starts an incredible feeling of anticipation that spreads throughout his body in seconds. When the kiss ends, Sherlock exhales a shaky breath and rests his forehead against John’s for a moment before pulling back to see his face. 

“So now the question is do you want that, John?” he asks breathlessly, nervously. He looks unflinchingly into John’s eyes and hides nothing. All of his thoughts and feelings are laid bare, exposed for John to see. His needs and desires and, above all, his love for John so deeply rooted in his soul he can no longer remember his life without it. He watches John as he sees it all and melts.

“Oh god,” John whispers in a quick gasp. “Yes. God, yes.”

That is all Sherlock needs. He dives in and kisses John to within an inch of his life. Then he trails kisses and lips and licks down John’s torso, pushing him onto his back as he goes. His lover strokes his shoulders and tangles fingers in his curls, all the while moaning soft curses and encouragement. Sherlock wiggles in between John’s legs, spreading them wide as he works his way down John’s body.

“Jesus. Oh, god,” John sighs, letting his head fall back only to jerk it up again when Sherlock licks a stripe down his shaft, tip to root, and then does not stop. “Fuck! Sherlock! What..ooohhhhh...are you doing?!”

Sherlock’s only answer is cupping John’s balls and licking across his hole. John’s whole body shudders in surprise and profound pleasure, even as he squirms to stop him.

“Sherlock,” John gasps frantically, “you don’t have to.”

Warmth that starts low in Sherlock’s belly radiates out into every corner of his body. It is a sense of arousal he can barely believe or contain. Every nerve, every damn molecule is alive with the sensation and the desire to take John apart piece by piece. 

“Do I look like I have reservations?” he asks quietly and more articulately than he expected. He looks up at John from under long, dark lashes, his face still a hair’s breadth from John’s ass.

“Oh, fuck,” John’s pupils swallow the color in his eyes and his breath stutters.

“I want all of you, John,” Sherlock repeats. “I want this. Please.”

“Oh, god. Yes. Yes,” John answers desperately. “I want it too. I want you, love you so much. You’re perfect. You’re…”

The words die in John’s throat as Sherlock spreads his cheeks to lick at first and then thrust his tongue in, licking a circle around the tight heat. John cries out and squirms, helpless to desire and pleasure. Sherlock continues thrusting in and out, licking and mouthing. He takes turns with his mouth and lubed fingers as he works John open. All the while John writhes and curses and tugs lightly at Sherlock’s curls.

When he is satisfied with his work, Sherlock buries his tongue one last time and wiggles it before thrusting once more. His intention is a final gesture that opens the door to more, but it proves to be too much for the doctor and John’s body suddenly jerks beneath him. Uncontrollable spasms rack John’s body and he is cursing loudly, his head thrown back. John is coming hard, his penis straining against its own skin and completely untouched. Sherlock feels a tinge of regret at that, but knows there will be more opportunities to explore. Instead, he kisses John’s thighs and uses his fingers to ride it out, brushing John’s prostate with a feather-soft touch and John comes again with a sudden spurt onto his own belly.

“Fuck!” he shouts, gasping for breath and clenching his fists in the sheets. He rasps on breathlessly as the orgasm ebbs. “Oh, fuck. God. Fuck. Sherlock.”

John pants heavy and deep as he opens his eyes to look at Sherlock. He swallows hard around great gulps of air and wipes sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand before reaching for the lanky coach.

“Goddamn, Sherlock,” John’s voice is hoarse and cracking under the weight of his rapid breaths. “Jesus Christ, Sherlock, get inside me. I want you now. I want your cock.”

Obliging instantly and nearly bursting, Sherlock lines them up and pushes in slowly, sending a moan from both their lips. Thank god they’re both clean, he has no patience for a condom right now. Fighting his own body and most of his mind, he carefully pulls out a bit and slowly pushes back in. He does not want to hurt John by being too enthusiastic, though he quickly sees that he needn’t have worried. John’s body is more than ready and apparently, so is John. The doctor grabs Sherlock’s hips with both hands and thrust hard, tearing a loud cry of ecstasy from Sherlock’s lips. With stars already in his vision, he meets John’s blown eyes and is greeted with lust and desperation.

“Ride me,” John demands. “Take me. Take me hard.”

With those words, Sherlock loses all control. He knows he isn’t going to last long after all of John’s cries and spectacular release, so he works quickly. He thrusts into John hard again and again, stopping suddenly with his tip against John’s prostate and a curse on John’s lips.

“Fuck! Fucking yes. Yes!” John’s hands are gripping Sherlock’s hips, his body tense and slick with sweat and meeting his thrusts perfectly. 

Sherlock loses all sense of space and time, always hitting that spot with each new thrust. John’s arms fly up, his fingers clutching and scratching at Sherlock’s shoulders and arms, anywhere he can gain purchase. Before long, Sherlock slows his pace, knowing it is coming soon. A hot, spiraling surge of pleasure coils in his belly and every bit of him tenses deliciously as he chases his release. Its rings burst apart in an explosion of heat and wet and rapture, and Sherlock is completely taken apart by the force of it. He shouts and thrusts and twitches, joy and sensation swallowing him whole and drawing him down deep into a part of his mind palace he has never seen before, some of it being built right before his eyes. He had already made a whole wing for John, but this is different. This is their space. Every detail designed for the two of them, to hold every feeling they experience together and hold every memory they make. The first to find quarters in this new place is John’s face, as well as Sherlock’s, the moment he said ‘I love you. Sherlock, I love you’.

Those are the words Sherlock hears when he opens his eyes. He is lying on his back on the soft warmth of his bed. John is hunched over him, looking into his eyes with undisguised concern. Sherlock blinks a few times in confusion, trying to get his bearings and decipher what has happened. He must have lost himself too completely in his mind palace and toppled over onto John, who then rolled him onto his back.

“John?” Sherlock croaks, his throat rough and dry.

“Sherlock, thank god,” John’s voice is full of equal parts worry and relief as he touches Sherlock’s damp brow and cheeks. “Your pulse is too fast. Just breathe. Slowly now. Try to slow it down.”

Obeying the doctor without question, Sherlock concentrates and breathes measurably until his body resumes its normal rhythm. John presses two fingers to his neck and counts out his pulse. Happy with his findings, he lets out a long sigh and smiles.

“There we are. Just too carried away for a minute there,” he brushes a curl from Sherlock’s forehead. “Nothing to worry about.”

Sherlock’s heart skips a beat at the soft affection of the touch and he smiles up at his lover. He starts to sit up, reaching for John as he goes, but John stops him with a firm hand on each bicep.

“Wait, wait,” he pushes him down and then laughs at the petulant frown on Sherlock’s face. “We need to get cleaned up, that’s all. Don’t get stroppy, all right?”

He hops off the bed, grabbing a random sock off the floor and holding it to his own belly to keep the mess covering his torso from smearing or dripping as he hurries to the master bath. Sherlock hears water running as he looks down at himself. His groin is slick with lube and saliva and semen. The sight of it gives him the most ridiculous sense of satisfaction and contentment. He inhales deeply and lets it out slowly while stretching his whole body luxuriously like a cat lying in the warm light of the sun.

“Here’s a flannel,” John says upon his return, offering Sherlock a damp washcloth. He takes it, a blank look on his face. John adds with a crooked smile. “To wash off.”

“I know what it’s for,” Sherlock snaps irritably, more so than he intended. He softens his tone again to continue. “But what did you call it?”

“A flannel,” John replies simply. “What do you call it?”

“A washcloth. Obvious. That’s what it is,” Sherlock supplies with a grin and stifled giggle. John narrows his eyes and swats Sherlock’s leg playfully.

“Just clean up, you tosser.”

“Tosser? Oh, that’s a new one,” Sherlock teases, rolling toward the doctor. “Tell me what that one means.”

He reaches out quickly to grab John’s wrist and pull him back into bed, but the man is too quick, just dodging his outstretched fingers. After a couple of jogged steps, John slows to a walk and heads for the bathroom again, still completely naked. Sherlock’s lips curl up as he watches that ass tip from side to side with the natural swing of John’s hips. He also can’t miss the fact that John’s left hand is behind his back, middle finger raised in a rude gesture for Sherlock to see. The coach laughs as John turns in the doorway to look at him.

“Piss off,” John remarks with no venom. His grin lights the room and Sherlock feels like he is home, but like no other he has ever known. Wherever this man is, is home and Sherlock never wants to be anywhere else again. 

“I’m going to shower,” John informs him, assuming a business-like tone. Sherlock watches him  slyly, knowing he is putting it on. “If you can stop all the teasing, you can join me.”

“Why should I stop? I rather enjoy it,” Sherlock gives him a cheeky grin and eyes John with approval. Not giving him a chance to answer the question, Sherlock raises the washcloth to punctuate his next question. “Why bother with this if you’re going to shower?”

“So you aren’t such a sticky mess when I snog you senseless,” John chooses to answer only the last question. He turns away and gives a swish of his ass as he looks over his shoulder. “Coming?”

Sherlock is frozen for a moment after John disappears into the other room. His eyes are wide and mouth hanging open, in spite of himself. His life is forever changed by the beautiful, wonderful man in his bathroom. Their bathroom. Sherlock looks at the washcloth in his hand, down at himself and then back to the doorway that once held John. A smile spreads across his face as he muses at how this could even be possible. Only a few months ago, things were so different. He was happy, but now… His lobster.

Sherlock springs into motion with the sound of water bursting from the shower head. He quickly wipes himself up as best he can in a rush and runs for the open door, steam already drifting out from within. He wraps his arms around John’s waist soundly as soon as he enters and presses a kiss to one firm shoulder blade. John is under the spray with his eyes closed, arms raised and hands skimming over his wet hair. He smiles fondly, wipes the water from his eyes and face, and lowers his hands to rest upon the taller man’s. Sherlock props his chin on John’s shoulder.  

“Hello, beautiful,” John says, tilting his head down to look at their joined hands. 

“I love you,” Sherlock whispers, his lips millimeters from John’s ear. He tightens his hold and kisses John’s neck gently.

***

An hour later and they are both settling into bed again. John is on his back with Sherlock just lying down next to him. He folds his arm around the taller man as Sherlock rests his cheek on John’s bare shoulder. Both elected to put on boxer briefs rather than pajamas and John revels in pure delight at the decision. Although, part of him wonders why they put anything on at all. Clearly something to be rectified in the future. In the meantime, Sherlock’s bare legs tangle with his and the warm, naked chest pressed up against his body is heavenly. With a sigh, John rests his hand on the man’s pale skin, inclining his head to touch it to his lover’s crown. The soft, dark curls tickle his cheek as he rests it against them. His fingers move up from the small of Sherlock’s back to the nape of his neck to play with those gorgeous curls, fingertips twisting in the damp rings and freeing tiny droplets.

John opens his mouth to speak, but a wave of realization crashes over him instead. His lover. His lover. His. This is his flat now. The one he shares with Sherlock. Well, as soon as he moves things out of his current flat and into this one. He and Sherlock will be together now. Forever. That’s what Sherlock wants and the more John thinks about it, the more he wants it too. To be by Sherlock’s side. To talk to him and touch him and share a bed with him. To be with him always. Christ, it’s amazing. Life with Sherlock. In this world, in this flat. The two of them against the world. It nearly takes his breath away. He must have moved or gasped or something at the thought because Sherlock tilts his face toward John’s and looks at him with curious eyes. 

“All right?” he asks in a deep voice, a sexy purr to John’s ears. A blissful grin spreads across John’s face as that delightful warm feeling pools low in his belly again.

“Yeah,” John answers, smoothing down the curls he twisted into tight ringlets. “I’m good. Perfect, in fact.”

“That is a gross exaggeration,” Sherlock laughs, his body shaking with it. John chuckles with him and shoves at his shoulder.

“It feels perfect then,” John corrects himself. “Is that better?”

“Mm, yes, but still highly subjective,” the taller man teases. “I would expect a man of science to be more methodical and draw conclusions based upon serious analysis.”

“How do you know I haven’t?” John asks, mimicking Sherlock’s haughtiness. He knows for a fact that Sherlock knows exactly what he is doing, but he does not let on. Instead, he simply watches John with narrowed eyes, his mouth curled smugly. “You don’t spend every hour of every day and night with me.”

“I will now,” Sherlock’s lips grow into the grin of a cheshire cat. A gleam flashes in his eyes. “Especially at night.”

John leans down and catches his mouth in a rather insistent kiss. He wants to tell Sherlock so much, everything that is in his heart. He pours it all into this kiss, wanting and willing Sherlock to understand, to see it all without John saying a single word. He knows he cannot get away with that and doesn’t really want to. He has to say it, wants to say it again and again for the rest of his life. All of his days with Sherlock, and nights, as Sherlock reminded him.

John shivers and brings the kiss to an end. Looking into Sherlock’s grey eyes, John sees that understanding. Sherlock knows all and sees all. He’s too damn clever for his own good and John absolutely adores him for it.

“I’m counting on it,” John says quietly. His hand drifts along Sherlock’s collarbone to his long neck. He dances his fingertips up the pale skin to jawline and chin, resting his palm over an angular cheek as he speaks. “D’you know this is our first night in our bed?”

“The thought had occurred, yes,” Sherlock gives a decisive nod. “We have already christened it in the physical sense, and now the emotional,” he looks at John with a knowing expression. “Sentiment.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” John wriggles down a little so his face is closer to Sherlock’s. “Billy mentioned you’re no good with that.”

“Did he?” Sherlock smiles ruefully. “He is not wrong. Although, I would like to think I’ve made some progress on that front.”

“You have,” John replies in a measured tone, but wearing a wide grin on his face.

“Under the appropriate tutelage, of course,” Sherlock continues, nonreactive to John’s jest.

“And you found a true expert to teach you too,” John adds cheekily. “A master of the craft.”

Sherlock snorts at that and John immediately joins in, both unable to hold it in any longer.

“At least I finally got my shit together,” John remarks when the sound of their giggles dies down.

“Indeed,” Sherlock chuckles, resting his palm on John’s chest and lifting his head to look him in the eye, “and I am deeply grateful.”

“Sherlock,” John says with a sudden seriousness that surprises even him. He sees it reflected back in the coach’s expression and rushes to speak before Sherlock’s big brain can start conjuring doubts. “I was stupid. I made myself so blind I couldn’t see what was right in front of me, but I do now.”

He pauses to wet his lips and gathers his courage for what he wants to say next. He expects it to be difficult and then he realizes that it isn’t hard at all. Saying this, declaring his feelings, feels like the most natural thing he has ever done. Everything is with Sherlock.

“I love you, Sherlock and I’m going to spend my whole life telling you and showing you just how much. It all starts here in this bed, in this flat, right now,” John tells him sincerely, covering those long fingers on his chest with his own. “I love you and I want to tell everyone. I want to shout it from the goddamn rooftops.”

They both laugh again for a moment. Still wearing a soft smile, John meets Sherlock’s eyes and touches a hand to his cheek. His fingers cradle the smooth skin and he slides his thumb over one beautiful cheekbone, capturing this moment so he can hold onto it forever.

“My life is yours,” John says simply in a quiet voice, “for as long as you want it.”

Sherlock’s lips curve upward and he looks at John with tears in his eyes. He shifts up John’s body until they are shoulder to shoulder and cups John’s face with both hands. Gazing into blue eyes, Sherlock leans toward his doctor and kisses him softly, sweetly, in a way he will repeat over and over again as the years drift by.

“And mine is yours,” he says in a hushed voice.

They share a kiss so deep, so honest and open, one that tells them both so much that they can scarcely catch their breath when their lips part.

“I love you,” Sherlock whispers against John’s lips.

“I love you,” John breathes back. 

Their words, breaths, and lives mingle together to create one. 

They rest their foreheads together and sigh, sharing in the perfect silence of the room. Their own breathing, now coming in identical puffs, is the only noise in the air around them. They both settle into bed again, heads ensconced in pillows and arms enfolding one another. 

John’s eyes grow heavy quickly and he almost does not notice when Sherlock drifts off, but the coach gives himself away when he snuffles quietly and snuggles close. John smiles to himself as his eyes close, ready now for sleep to come. In the last ten nights, his last thought before his brain passes into its rest cycle has been of The Crown and his rescue. The dreams that follow rule his sleep as they show him the different ways it could have played out. 

More often than not, the dreams have had an alternate ending in which things went poorly. One night when he, Sherlock and Greg were all in DC to meet with the Board the dream ended with Sherlock dead. He had drowned trying to untie the ropes that had bound John to the weights and John was left staring into his unseeing grey eyes as he floated away motionless. John had startled awake that night, covered with sweat. He was so shaken that he had thrown on a hotel bathrobe over his pajamas, gone straight down the hall to Sherlock’s room and rang his mobile until the man awoke. John had wrapped his arms around him as soon as he opened the door with a startled ‘John, what is it?’

John has never explained the dreams to Sherlock and Sherlock has not asked. John will tell him at some point, but not now when it is still so fresh. Soon though. 

As for tonight, it seems like it should be no different and yet, it is. Here, in their bed on the first night of their life together, John’s last thought before falling asleep is completely different and the dreams he has open a new world of wonder and excitement.

Sherlock was brilliant at finding clues. Ones I left and ones I didn’t even realize. He could be a detective in his free-time, as if we have any of that to spare.

John’s mouth turns up at the corners slightly and a sleepy snicker passes through his lips as he pulls Sherlock closer.

A consulting detective. Mm, I should tell...him...that.

El Fin

---

I said it all at the beginning, but I will again. Thank you all for being with me as I posted. Your love and support means the world to me. All of you are my friends on this journey. This story has a special place in my heart for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is meeting my lovely beta, MyBreadAndButter. Thank you, my friend. You have help me shape this story and my craft into something truly great. I look forward to working with you, and to seeing all of you again. I will never stop writing. It is a part of me as much as these two idiots are. I pledge to make them fall in love again and again with you all by my side. 😂 Until then... Keep you pants dry and your dreams wet and remember, hugs not drugs. We’ll all get through this together. Love, Jane

@zentris @221b-carefulwhatyouwishfor @tooolforthissh--stuff @shana-movershaker @melmey-fanfics @louise175dk @technicallywiseoncns @underestimatemethatwillbefun @jhamishw @weirdlittlegoofball @superwholockpotterincamelot @superwholocklmt @ladidragonuniverse @kittenmadnessandtea @srebrnafh @welcometomyharddrive @annecumberbatch @kingdomofbrokenhearts @philliphooper @whodwantmeasaflatmate @gloriascott93 @vvaticancameoss @cow-mow @echosilverwolf @spazzz32 @absentmindedsstuff @swissmissing @shuukichan @maeliandmyself @wtgilsa  @red-pen-revolution @britishaccentfan @dischorde @plasticstrawsmuggler @youknowyougrow @one-thousand-splendid-stars @irina12maria

[inevitably-johnlocked]

I-J’s Top 20 Bookmarks of 2018

I’M A BIT LATE WITH THIS, but I’ve been meaning to do this for awhile. I want to start reccing more fics that people haven’t asked for, and thought this was a good way to start that :P

After I made my Top 30 Read-Again Fics (March 2019) fic list, I thought hmm, why not just make a list of my fave fics I bookmarked in 2018? Because why not? 

So here we are; it was a RIDICULOUSLY hard selection process (it was supposed to be only 10!), since everything I bookmark are amazing stories. I kept the criteria to fics I’ve only read for the very first time in 2018 and then proceeded to bookmark, so these aren’t necessarily fics that were released in 2018, just stuff I’ve read and bookmarked.

ANYWAY, without further ado, in word count order:

I-J’s TOP 20 BOOKMARKS of 2018

See also: 

Top 20 Fave 40K+ w. Fics (April 2017 ) 

I-J’s Last 50 Bookmarked Fics (June 2017) 

Last 17 Bookmarked Fics July 2017

Last 30 Bookmarked Fics November 2017 

Ten Fave Short Johnlock Fics (Easy Reads April 2018) 

25 Fave Johnlock One Shots (April 2018) 

Top 10 Fave Fics (September 2018) 

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018)

Last 86 Bookmarked Fics (Jan 2019) || [MOBILE] 

Top 30 Read-Again Fics (March 2019)

A Study in Lace by KarlyAnne (E, 2,320 w. || Est. Rel., Crafty Sherlock, Tiny Lace Panties / Lingerie, Domestics, Experiments, Oral, Masturbation) – “Why do you suppose he was doing that?” “Why do I suppose who was doing what?” “The room. The lace. The secrecy. He was playing with fire in everything he did, and didn’t care one bit. But he had a secret chamber, carefully concealed, solely for the purpose of making lace lingerie. Obviously for personal use. Why?" Part 1 of The Unintentional Crafts of Sherlock Holmes

Lingerie by Sexxica (E, 4,135 w. || Valentine’s Day, Lingerie / Women’s Underwear, Mildly Public Masturbation, Picture Texting / Sexting, Bottomlock, Body Worship, Anal Sex / Fingering, Rimming, Orgasm Delay / Denial, Est. Rel.) – It's Valentines Day and Sherlock is taking John to Angelo's for dinner. Sherlock also happens to be wearing a garter belt, stockings and a rather small pair of women's underwear under his clothes. There's no dessert at Angelo's because John needs to get Sherlock home just as quickly as he can before they both lose their minds entirely.

If He Knows by shamelessmash (M, 4,513 w. || TSo3 Fic, Pining Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Angst, Sherlock POV, Texting, Internal Monologue, Blanket Forts) – I imagine mornings: John handing me a cup of tea, hair sticking out at odd angles. How he would bend down to kiss me, smiling fondly as he pulls away. The way his skin crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the way his skin looks in the morning light. The soft sigh as he sits in his chair with the morning paper, the way his toes curl in the carpet, the way he rolls his shoulders before sinking deeper into his seat. I watch him, how he is when he is content, as it should be. As he deserves. Happy. With me.

When to Let Go by KendylGirl (M, 22,109 w. || Friends to Lovers, Reverse Reichenbach, Sacrifice, Forgiveness, Angst, Love, Implied Drug Use) – What if it were John who had to die to thwart Moriarty's plans? John's supposed death shatters Sherlock, and when he returns, it will challenge the pair to forge a path of forgiveness, to peace, and to find a way back to each other. Part 1 of When to Let Go

Another Auld Lang Syne by DiscordantWords (M, 30,234 w. || Post S4, Mutual Pining, Alternating POV, Introspection, Parentlock, Christmas, New Year’s, First Kiss, Past Drug Use, Angst with Happy Ending, Drinking, Sherlock Whump) – There had been years of missed chances.

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

Nothing to Make a Song About by emmagrant01 (E, 36,833 w. || Post-TRF, First Time, Reunion, Jealous John, Pining Sherlock, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, Sherlock Has a Boyfriend) – When Sherlock returned from his faked death, John could not forgive him for the deception and broke off their friendship. Ten years later, John returns to London in search of yet another new beginning. Sherlock, not surprisingly, is waiting.

The Unfinished Letters by SilentAuror (E, 37,391 w. || Post S3 / S3 / HLV Fix it, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Infidelity, Depression, Case Fic, POV Third Person Sherlock, Love Confessions, Pining Sherlock, Letters) – A fire at Baker Street leads John to read something he was never intended to see: a notebook of half-written, unfinished letters Sherlock wrote during his time away...

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (E, 39,309 w. || Romance, Wedding, Therapy, Fluff and Angst) – Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding... Part 2 of The Ravine Valley series

In the Still of the Night by SilentAuror (E, 42,234 w. || S4 Fix It / Post-S4, Sherlock POV, Angst, Drama, Romance, Virgin Sherlock, Awkwardness, Misunderstandings / Miscommunications, Case Fic, Travelling, Pining) – As locals on the Northeastern coast begin to report UFO sightings, life at Baker Street becomes significantly awkward as John brings up his desire for more than friendship and Sherlock refuses him. They embark on the investigation from the confines of the tiny cottage Mycroft has rented for them, attempting to navigate both the clues of the case as well as their own inability to communicate...

Bloody But Unbowed by BeautifulFiction (E, 43,211 w. || Abduction, John Whump, Mild Torture, Background Case Fic, Friends to Lovers, Post-TRF / S3 Rewrite, Hurt/Comfort) – When a familiar argument threatens to destroy the last remnants of John and Sherlock's failing friendship, both men are left questioning their worth to one another. Before either of them has the chance to make amends, circumstance intervenes. John is left at the mercy of his abductors, and this time, he's not sure Sherlock will bother coming to his rescue.

floating through a dark blue sky by Lediona (M, 58,966 w. || Notting Hilll AU || POV John, Celebrity Sherlock, First Date / Time / Kiss, Past Drug Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending) – Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant -- but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.

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

Summit Fever by J_Baillier (M, 78,802 w. || Mountain Climber AU || POV John, Angst, Tragedy, Suicidal Ideation, The Himalayas, Mountain Guide / Doctor John, Mount Climber Sherlock, Loneliness, Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Injured Sherlock / Sherlock Whump, Pining John) – After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he's a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover's trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I—the most lethal of all the world's highest mountains—shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

Uphill by scullyseviltwin (E, 84,945 w. || Olympics AU || Sherlock POV, Skier!Sherlock / Medic!John, Rivalry, 2014 Olympics, Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes is striving for gold in this, his fourth and final Olympics as a downhill Alpine racer.

A Study in Winning by Jupiter_Ash (E, 106,658 w. || Tennis AU || John POV, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Sherlock Speaks French, Switchlock, Wimbledon) – John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything? Part 1 of Tennis

Eyes Up, Heels Down by CodenameMeretricious (E, 107,845 w. || Sports Equestrian AU || Fluff, Angst, Humour, Rider!Sherlock, Groomer!John, Show Jumping, Slow Burn, Happy Ending) – Sherlock is a top eventing rider currently training at Baker Farms. John is the new groom who's been told to steer clear of the surly rider and his horses. Part 1 of Baker Farms

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w. || Canon Divergence, Post-TRF, John’s Sexuality, S3 Rewrite, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, John’s Gay) – When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (T, 129,003 w. || Horse / Vet AU || Magical Realism, Horses, Vet John, Horse Sherlock, Implied Alcoholism) – Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatise to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w. || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition.

[vateacancameos]

The Forest for the Trees, Part 3

Sherlock | Fanfic | Johnlock | Unilock | Asexual Sherlock | 5K words | 4 Parts | ao3 link

December

Convincing John to come home with Sherlock for Christmas turned out to be easier than expected. Sherlock mentioned it casually one evening in mid-December, and John had replied with a lovely smile and an “Of course, if you want me to.” As if Sherlock could want anything else. His pining had increased exponentially in the past few months, but he’d somehow managed to keep it hidden from his friend. John was smart, but he sometimes missed the most obvious clues. Sherlock found it a bit charming.

John coming home with him for Christmas killed several birds with one stone. One, John’s only family was his sister Harry, and she’d be spending the winter hols with her girlfriend in Liverpool. If he didn’t come with Sherlock, he’d be home alone. And that was just not on. Two, Mummy went a bit… mad over Christmas. With John around to share the load, Sherlock would be forced into less holiday spirit than usual. With John’s romantic nature, he was inclined to actually enjoy Christmas anyway. He and Mummy could natter on about holiday silliness together and leave Sherlock out of it. Three, most importantly, Sherlock couldn’t bear to spend that much time apart from John.

They were practically attached at the hip now. The possibility of a boyfriend was mere memory, and any hours not spent sleeping or going to class were spent together. So not only would Sherlock be at a loss if he didn’t have John around to joke with and keep the boredom at bay, he just couldn’t bear the thought of going so many days without seeing John’s happy smile, feeling his warm hands, or hearing his contagious laugh.

The time between end of term and Christmas seemed to rush by, and suddenly they were home. Mummy plied them with cider, mulled wine, and nibbles, Dad showed them his latest wood carvings, and Mycroft rolled his eyes a lot from the sofa his arse seemed to be married to. He had just started working as an aide to a public servant of one sort or another and apparently thought himself better than everyone else. John seemed not to care that he had taken over the burden of Mycroft’s holiday chores, always saying he didn’t mind at all, that he liked being needed.

Mummy was ecstatic that Sherlock finally had a friend and couldn’t stop commenting on how amazing the man was. Though Sherlock agreed with her assessment, he thought her raptures were getting out of hand. He didn’t understand it for what it was until late on Christmas Eve after a game of Scrabble (Sherlock had won, and John had come second, but likely only because Mummy only cared about numbers and Mycroft was glued to his new work phone).

They were having their final round of drinks when Mummy pulled out the camera and forced the family in front of the tree for pictures. She started off with the usual: she and Dad, Sherlock and Mycroft, all four of them. Then she told John to jump in as well. At first, Sherlock thought she just didn’t want John to feel left out (even though he seemed perfectly content pressing camera buttons), but after the group pictures were done, Mummy shooed Sherlock and John back in front of the tree.

“Every couple should have a picture in front of the tree,” she had explained as she posed them.

Sherlock stiffened. Oh. She thought they were together. He wasn’t sure what gave her that idea, since he had never once called John his boyfriend (out loud). They hadn’t kissed or even touched too often. They just acted like friends. Close friends, yes. Best friends. But that was all.

He was about to refute their relationship status when John put his arm around Sherlock’s waist and leaned in. “Oh, come on, Scrooge. It’s Christmas. Indulge your mum just this once.”

John’s breath was a soft puff on Sherlock’s neck, his arm a warm band around his waist, and Sherlock suddenly didn’t have it in him to fight. It felt so nice, so right, being here like this, being a couple. And John was right. He rarely saw his parents. It wasn’t difficult letting her win just this once. He would have to call her after the trip, though, and explain why she was wrong in her assumption.

So Sherlock relaxed and leaned in a bit to John. John hummed contentedly, then pinched him with his free hand to get him to smile. Not a bad way to spend Christmas Eve.

* * *

“I’m, um, sorry about Mother and the thing with the photos,” Sherlock apologized later that night. Everyone was in bed but the two of them, who had stayed up to watch Die Hard, apparently the “best Christmas ever made.” Given the holiday schlock usually found on the television, Sherlock had to agree. Still, the movie had been rather ridiculous. But it had been fun. John had let Sherlock scoff all he wanted, and only hushed him during the “important bits.”

Now they were curled up on the sofa, enjoying the quiet of the house and the warmth of the last of a fire. John had announced he needed sleep, but Sherlock couldn’t let him go without apologizing for the embarrassment that was his mother. It had felt nice that John didn’t mind pretending they were a couple for his mum, but Sherlock still needed to show his appreciation.

John shook his head and smiled. “It’s fine, Sherlock. She’s a mum; they’re meant to be exuberant.”

“But still–”

“Sherlock, really, I don’t mind. It was kind of nice, actually. You’re lucky to have a mother who can fawn over you, silly as it may seem. I would give anything to have my mum…” He trailed off, his face scrunched in sorrow. John’s mum had died when he was sixteen, at the beginning of his dating years. Sherlock reckoned he could understand wanting to experience that motherly silliness, if even it was based on a faulty assumption.

He was also doubly glad he’d asked John to come home with him. Even if it had hurt a bit to pretend, John had had a moment of family normalcy. And though Sherlock couldn’t understand wanting that at all, he understood where John was coming from. He knew John craved that bit of normalcy, despite being rather extraordinary himself.

“Well, then,” Sherlock replied. “I’m glad you were able to have that.”

John smiled softly. “This is the best Christmas I’ve had in ages. Than you, Sherlock.”

Just then, the clock struck two, and John raised his brows in surprise. “I really should get to bed if I’m going to be worth anything in the morning.”

Sherlock didn’t like the idea of John leaving yet. He rolled his eyes, trying to look annoyed rather than bereft. “It’s not as if you must to get up early. We’re not children, needing to tear into gifts at four in the morning.”

“I’m not going to be the slothful guest, Sherlock.” He rolled his head to the side so that it knocked gently against Sherlock’s. Sherlock liked that. “Merry Christmas, you mad man.” He then put his hand on Sherlock leg to lever himself to standing. “Don’t stay up too late, okay? I might find your surliness kind of adorable, but most people shouldn’t have to deal with it, family included.” He yawned and headed for the stairs.

Still processing the fact that John found something about Sherlock adorable, Sherlock didn’t realize he’d forgot to reply until John was halfway up to the first floor. “Merry Christmas, John,” he said, just loudly enough to be heard by his friend. He had to agree, this was the best Christmas he’d had in years.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

[trojanjean]

writing tag

tagged by the wonderful @aftgonice , thank you! <3 

Rules: Answer the questions for your work. You can use different fics, and even WIPs. Don’t hesitate to link your stuff for the curious ones :) And tag writer friends to play along!

1/ Which scene/paragraph/sentence are you the most proud of?

Hmm. I really like this one part of a Drarry fic I haven’t ever gotten around to publishing. I wrote it about a year ago and it’s short and kinda awkward, but I like it. Here :

“The mid-morning was busy, Ministry workers buzzing past them and chattering loudly, shoes clapping on the pale marble floor. Harry had always hated how overwhelming the entrance hall was, too bright and traffic-y. And going by the look on Malfoy’s face, he didn’t like it either. Harry was curious to know if this place reminded him of the war and what had happened afterwards, with the trials and all that crap. He wondered if he’d been assigned to wear work-robes like everyone else, and whether him wearing jeans that had tears in the knees was just a way to say Fuck you.”

2/ For which work/piece of work do you get comments telling how marvelous it is, while you’re not that enthralled by that piece yourself?

I was really surprised that fingers crossed my obsession with you is tameable has become my ummm most famous fic? Idk if you can call it that but it’s got a lot more comments than my other stuff. When I wrote it i was still very new to the fandom and knew v v little about anything. I’m glad that people like it and I’m quite proud of it myself too, but there are other stories I’ve spent writing 5 times longer than that one, like the two fics I wrote for Otayuri Reversebang. I spent sooo much time making my characters believable, plot interesting etc. and yet they’re not that popular. Hell, I even have 20 pages of unused material for both of those fics because I made several different endings and tried to find the perfect one. But then again, maybe overworking them shows or smth? Anyway. I’ve only published stuff I like tbh so I don’t really know how to anwer this question :) 

3/ Which character highjacked the story they’re in?

Well, right now I writing the second chapter for my heart’s a stereo  and I’m trying to chill a bit because it’s got too much on Yuri’s small crush on Yuuri, and the fic is supposed to be about Yuri and Otabek, not how wonderful Yuuri is (in Yuri’s opinion). I already have a oneshot in mind about Yuuri and Viktor (and Chris), happening at the same time as the main story. Yuuri is my sunshine boy and wins my heart, but I’m trying my best to focus on Otayuri on this one.

4/ Which sentence/kind of sentence do you overuse?

Yikes. My language skills in English are very limited so there are lots of things I don’t know how else to describe so I’ll probably end up repeating myself? “Despite the fact that” is a good example of that. I’m trying my best to learn by reading a lot and googling things but I’m very insecure about using new phrases in case I’m using them wrong lol. But, I accept that English is not my first language and that the only way to learn is to write and read more, so. Also, feel free to tell me when there’s something funny going on in one of my fics? Because so far most of my stuff is unbetaed (bc I don’t want to bother anyone shh).

5/ Which work of yours would you be dying to get fanart for?

Oh, definitely either we go alive in a heartbeat or i’ll be there, rain or shine. They’re both sweet and innocent oneshots and they are my babies. But I’d be over the moon to receive fanart about any fic! :))

6/ Which work would you rather forget?

Anything written before 2016. And I can’t quite read my first YoI fic without cringing because it was also one of the first fics I’d written in English and the first time I wrote smut. BUT I am incredibly happy that I wrote it because I don’t think I’d be writing anything now if I hadn’t had the courage to write (and post!) it back then. 

7/ Do you have a project you never got the nerves/guts to write?

YES. I think about heavy angst headcanons daily, but I will never ever have the guts to write any of those ideas down. I think my characters in those are very OC and no one would ever ever buy a fic where, say, a person from YoI is cheating on their soulmate or whatever. Also the ideas include lots of things I would probably like to read about but maybe not write myself? Cutting, depression and eating disorders and things like that. Angst just for the sake of angst in general is too heavy for me to write. But I’ve got so sooo many sad headcanons that I sort of hope that I could write them lol. 

8/ For which fandom have you written the most? (can be original fic, say if you count in terms of words, chapters or fics)

Yuri on ice. I’ve published 12 YoI fics, and I have about four serious wips waiting for my motivation to return, plus a dozen ideas I haven’t written down/have only written a rough draft. 

I’ve published two Drarry fics (well, actually one since the other one is made by me and my gf together), but I have L O T S of wips from that ship too. I have two or three stories that have 3000-7000 words to but I just haven’t gotten around to finishing them. 

I’ve written a few Johnlock oneshots as well but I haven’t published any in ao3. 

Tagging @kirinvlinder @trans-boy-yuri @definitelynotadulting @rayraywrites !! <3 

[impossibleleaf]

Why there HAS to be a 4th episode or A quick reminder of everything that is fucky

I know that lately it has become difficult to keep believing in the existence of a fourth episode, one the fandom has decided to call the Lost Special. So this post has nothing but the goal to lay down the hard facts that prove not only the existence of that episode but also the necessity of it.

This is a collection of reasons why we believe in a Lost Special, all at the same place. No Arg, no speculations, no hard meta, just the irrefutable evidence we’ve gathered that shows how something is terribly wrong at the moment within the show itself. If someone starts doubting, this is supposed to remind them why we’re still in the expectative.

Tighten your belt, we’re going deep inside the show. It’s going to be long, and frankly not everything will make sense but that’s the point: nothing make sense otherwise.

So many unfired Chekov’s gun, so many loose threads

We were told to read Chekov. The problem is, we have no time if we need to address every Chekov’s guns they haven’t fired. It is very telling that I’m certain the list I’m going to make is very incomplete but here we go:

1. You should put that on a T-Shirt

What was the point of it? We knew by that point that CAM and Mary were connected. Giving both characters the same line implies an intimacy that was never shown, a connection that goes beyond blackmail. This is either a Chekov’s gun or very lazy writing. Can’t Moffat imagine a better line to show CAM’s contempt? We still need to see the depth of these two’s relationship, we need to see how Mary could have heard that line. The little joke Mary has said in the intimacy of their bedroom is outright contempt in CAM’s and was most certainly meant to be one from the beginning.

2. How is your wound, Sherlock?

This is a recurring theme even if it’s not obvious. When Sherlock thinks about Mary, he grimaces and touches his wound. This happened already in TAB where he literally fell in pain right after mentioning Mary to Watson.

Mary’s past is going to come back to haunt her? Why in that line does Sherlock need to touch his wound then? I thought all was nice and forgiven? No hard feeling?

3. Romantic entanglement, while fulfilling for other people would complete Sherlock as a human being

Seriously, what was the point of this? This is firing the canon and realizing after the fact there is nothing inside. When it comes to Sherlock and John’s romantic arc, it’s the hot potato game.

“Do you have a girlfriend? Not my area. Boyfriend? No.” “I’m sure you’d be very happy together. Sorry, what?” “Did he ever have, I don’t know, girlfriend, boyfriend a romantic relationship?” “You’re a great boyfriend, and Sherlock Holmes is a very lucky man.”

I’m not going to finish this one or even develop it. That would take dozens of pages. The point is, TLD finally addressed the elephant in the room. It did for no apparent reason but that was this episode’s advertising point: the whole episode was marketed as Sherlock being in love, John broke down and showed how terribly human he is, Sherlock proved how far he’d go for him. The elephant isn’t in the room anymore, it’s grown so much there is no house left. But TFP? Never. Talks. About. This. If like they’re pretending, they want to end the show there, they never will. This is a black hole inside the show, it sucks everything out of it.

4. So what was inside that letter?

Nobody knows, nobody ever will. The same way, we don’t know what Sherlock’s recurring dream is.

5. Welcome, ladies and gentlemen to The Final Problem of horrors

Within the same episode, many Chekov’s gun where loaded, none got fired, a rifle being of one them.

The bloodied wall? Pointless. Molly’s confession? Like I said, romantic arcs are hot potatoes and this one got dropped with the Garridebs.

Ah, the Three Garridebs. That one moment in Sherlock Holmes everyone agrees is vital. It explains Holmes and Watson’s relationship and it was worth a wound to finally have the confirmation Holmes cares. This is that one moment Moffat swore he adores and yet has reduced to nothing. This is the biggest warning we need. A true fan wouldn’t just do that if that wasn’t part of a plan.

I’m going to stop there. I don’t have the patience to search further but, I think I’ve proved my point anyway.

So many words unsaid. So many plots unsolved. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera

1. So, what was the point of S4 again?

Each season has an arc: S1 is Sherlock and John finding their footing, the discovery of Moriarty, S2 is the relative peace of the show that hides Moriarty’s “Final Problem”, S3 is about Mary and CAM.

S4? This is a season that needs to be seen with the three episodes at the same time but, and that’s where it hurts, the Eurus revelation destroys whatever deduction you could have made. That’s like when you play rock-paper-scissor and someone screams ‘Bomb! I win!’ What’s the point of the game if you rewrite the rules at the last second?

2. Who was the villain of S4 in the end? Eurus who? Oh, you mean that harpie! Nope, not a worthy final boss for the show

What was the point of TFP? This is an episode long mystery. Eurus can survive being a villain among another but she doesn’t have Moriarty’s presence. We’re told she’s the cleverest person in the universe and yes, she’s barmy, but Jim by far is more chilling. He is the spider in the middle of the web, Magnussen is the blackmailer, the white collar villain who will pee in your fireplace as a power play. Mary is the unknown card, the enemy inside the house and who can serve you a poisoned tea with a sweet smile.

Eurus? She’s grotesque, a joke and while she’s dangerous she can’t compare to these two. Culverton Smith froze my heart and made me throw up but her? Nothing. We’re missing a villain.

The abandon of Sherlock’s main arc:   Your life is not your own, keep your hands off it! Off! It!

One of the show’s main theme is that Sherlock and John are suicidal before meeting each other. Their meeting literally saved them. Life is a constant theme inside the show, it is addressed among every episode to varying degrees.

Season 1? John and Sherlock start being suicidal but manage to survive their depression. The bullet John saved for his suicide is used to save Sherlock’s life. they keep saving each other but even then the series ends with both of them seemingly about to kill themselves in order to stop Moriarty. They are better but their lives still have little value.

Season 2 is easy: Ultimately, he fakes his death, he is clever enough to avoid genuinely committing suicide even though we get the feeling he would have, had Moriarty’s plan worked.

Season 3? Sherlock is a mess but this time he fights. HLV’s greatest moment is when Sherlock while flat lining is told how much he’s going to enjoy being dead. And yet, the second he knows John is in danger, he makes the conscious choice of living. He punches the ground and forces his heart to start again. He would enjoy death but he won’t let himself, not as long as John is in danger.

The end of TLD is Sherlock finally realizing he doesn’t want to die. He says that life has a value, it is a currency he doesn’t know how to pay back but he’s not going to risk his life anymore.

So, of course, Sherlock attempts to shoot himself in TFP. There is some logic I won’t explain there but! When will Sherlock enjoy living? When will John stop thinking his death is justifiable? When Mycroft explains why John must die, he’s in. There are still in that mind set at the end of TFP!

So far, we’ve got: I want to die, let’s pretend I’m dead, I can’t die, not yet, you’re not allowed to die and I don’t want to die. Fire that gun and finally say it! Say how this arc must necessarily end: I want to live.

You want to pretend Johnlock is never happening? Fine, let’s play that game. You’re not going to convince me that one arc was always going to end the way it did. You want to try another approach to justify a fourth episode? Use this, the love and the life arcs are intimately connected: sherlocklives means Johnwatsonlives, they’re the reason they’re still alive. You can’t resolve one without the other. By cutting short johnlock, you’re also refusing to let them enjoy life.

The Abominable Bride, a colossal waste of time?

We know the story: a league of furies has decided to fight the statu quo of Vitorian’s values. They fight for the best of causes, they’re being ignored, disregarded even though they are right. They tend to our homes and are vital, we mustn’t take them for granted or abuse their love. Rather that the villains, they’re the victims who’ve decided to fight back. This isn’t the story of a murderous rampage, this was a suicide mission necessary to raise the army needed.

They are the heroes. Watson, the two Holmes, they are the obstacles to overcome. They all agree to this: the fight must go on and they must lose to the conspiracy.

Along the way Sherlock also learns vital lessons: you cannot use women on your whims. Janine, Molly, they are important, they have sentiments and you mustn’t play with them. Stop being a misogynist asshole and ask for their help. They’re not the enemy. At the same time, in the deepest part of his Victorian madness, he goes back to the source: they’re always two of them. John and Sherlock, they’re a set. Alone, he is powerless. Together? They can win and get their happy ending. Why would he need a list? He says as he tears it. He’s got the real thing now.

We even see a passing the torch moment. Mycroft asks for John to look after his brother, the same way one would ask his future brother-in-law to take good care of his baby sibling.

This is a heart-warming message. Sherlock shows such growth in what ultimately was a couple seconds in-universe.

Now read this again: Sherlock has just done the complete opposite all thorough S4.

John and Sherlock, the two of them against the rest of the world? It’s even a miracle when these two are TALKING.

Women fighting for their agency? Molly has been humiliated, even Moffat refuses to give her any depth even though her character development has always lead her to move on from her love for Sherlock. The only woman who raises the standard is Mrs Hudson, one who doesn’t officially belong to the conspiracy and even then she does this despite Sherlock.

Sherlock swearing off drugs? His flat has become a living meth lab.

John looking after Sherlock? He refuses to listen to Mycroft’s plea and Sherlock almost didn’t survive TLD.

As it stands, TAB aka the conspiracy’s decoder ring is useless. Nothing was achieved, no character development for Sherlock, he even makes a point in doing the exact same mistakes TAB calls him out.

This isn’t just a weak episode among a season. This was supposed to be the crowning jewel of this show, the link between the past and the present. The irrefutable proof that modern times are better because Sherlock always was a man out of his time.

As it is? This is a waste of money and time for the actors: nothing was achieved. It is a hindrance, the show is even better if we ignore it. Sherlock was out of his time? TAB is out of this series if S4 stands. TAB and S4 cannot coexist. Why did Mofftiss even bother linking it to the series? It would have been better if that had been an episode with no relevance to the plot. They made a 1h30 long episode outside a series for nothing.

If this is the end, why are they still so tight-lipped?

We have survived enough hiatus to know that’s not their modus operandi. Normally, this is the point they tell us how hard it was to keep the secret, how much they enjoyed watching us dance and lying to our face.

Except they aren’t. They’re still dismissive of us, they’re still acting as if our theories are ridiculous and that’s not how they act after a season, that’s how they are during it while they’re trying not to reveal too much. Even when you look at them during Sherlock events, you notice they’re still stressed. Why? I thought you wanted to end the series? It’s over, right?

Let’s take Gatiss for example. The same man who wrote to a journal dismissive of TST refuses to communicate with his fans and automatically blocks them.

You look at the actor’s face and you see they can’t sell what’s they’re saying. Martin explains that John and Mary loved each other very much? He looks dead, as if even uttering these words is killing him. Rather than a fun recap of the series, this seems like a weak defence no one believes in. Mary loves the boys so much she is rather protective of them? She shot Sherlock in a heartbeat and threatened to do it again. Each explanation they give sounds like excuses, very weak excuses.

Actors are complaining about the hell they’re living but Benedict and Martin are not in the Sherlock event, Benedict told us that love is going to conquer all, each actor revealed a part of the show we didn’t see. Everything they know will be tested? We are in hell, true, but if we take Season 4 at face value? There’s nothing that warranted this warning.

I remember seeing a post where Arwel explained that their travel to the Niagara falls was for Sherlock but? There’s nothing? They wasted so much money for nothing? And he can’t tell us anything? Why? Isn’t the season over?

The attitude of the BBC in front of our complaints are dismissive, even to those who weren’t talking about TJLC. The advertising was plainly terrible: it teased a relationship that never appeared and now that we call on their bullshit they act as if they’re the victims? They’re the ones pouring fire on this mess! They had many chances to end this but took none.

And finally, the mentions they make about The Lost Special. They are the ones that started them by making that joke. The Lost Special, the Accidental Special, they use the same vocabulary each time it is mentioned. They joke, they laugh but so did they when they said Moriarty couldn’t have faked his death, when they lied and lied to our faces so many times when we were always absolutely right but they couldn’t afford us to know. They have lied to our face so many times, every time saying they weren’t, not this time. Moffat and Gatiss are compulsive liars. Why on earth would that change today?

The game is not over. Not yet.

[euphoriccalliope-blog]

C’mon. Play the Game.

This just popped into my head re: the Sherlock ARG getting underway in earnest, and some anxiety around that. Folks who’ve been going harddd since January 15th are exhausted -- all the more so because the Sherlock fandom is used to operating on a years-long hiatus schedule and we’ve suddenly been pushed into hourly realtime effort. It’s decidedly uncomfortable on one hand, but also thrilling.

The ARG is basically an epic game of chicken. Do we trust we know the rules and parameters enough to play it without getting bruised or overly frustrated by TPTB who are playing it with us? We’ve been burnt before. If there is no explicit prize of another episode, promised upfront, then what does “winning” mean other than knowing we were smart enough to risk our pride to prove we’re clever? 

Answer: we play it because we can, because we want to, and yeah, because we’re clever. And maybe we also know we can rescue each other from it if it gets too cray. And because it makes us fall in love with the brilliant members of this fandom a bit more. (John has a role also in this scene.)

A Study in Not Blinking

It strikes me that there are a lot of parallels between the fandom’s feelings around the ARG and this scene in ASiP when the cabbie (Moftiss) convinces Sherlock (us?) to stay at the table, even though S. knows there is no gun keeping him there. The cabbie’s gun is fake. Just as many brill folks have determined that the gun at the end of TLD/bracketing TFP is also _not a tranquilizer gun_.  It’s not what we are told it is, based on the evidence of our eyes. And same goes for the representation of a J&S romantic relationship on the show -- we stand by our visual understanding of what is real and there, vs. the “official” view point that it isn’t, and also btw who you are doesn’t matter. 

Bear with me a sec. I think based on what we have seen so far in the ARG, they have been playing a very long game indeed. Witness @tjlcisthenewsexy’s recent brilliant discovery & explication about the cabbie’s license # from ASiP (X). My hunch is that they’ve been building in meta-ARG stuff all along, all so that they would have the option of using it later if they wanted. With that in mind, let’s take a look at the ASiP classroom showdown from the perspective of where we are now, dipping our toes into the ARG.

Read this through, please:

Transcript courtesy of the lovely and astute Ariane DeVere (X) -- S1 E1, part 4:

CLASSROOM. SHERLOCK: What if I don’t choose either? I could just walk out of here. (Sighing in a combination of exasperation and disappointment, Jeff lifts up the pistol and points it at Sherlock.) JEFF: You can take your fifty-fifty chance, or I can shoot you in the head. (Sherlock smiles calmly.) JEFF: Funnily enough, no-one’s ever gone for that option. SHERLOCK: I’ll have the gun, please. JEFF: Are you sure? SHERLOCK (still smiling): Definitely. The gun. JEFF: You don’t wanna phone a friend? (Sherlock smiles confidently.) SHERLOCK: The gun. (Jeff’s mouth tightens, and slowly he squeezes the trigger. A small flame bursts out of the end of the muzzle. Sherlock smiles smugly.) SHERLOCK: I know a real gun when I see one. (Calmly Jeff lifts the pistol/cigarette lighter and releases the trigger. The flame goes out.) JEFF: None of the others did. SHERLOCK: Clearly. Well, this has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case. (He stands up and walks towards the door. Jeff puts the gun onto the desk and calmly turns in his seat.) JEFF: Just before you go, did you figure it out ... (Sherlock stops at the door and half-turns towards him.) JEFF: ... which one’s the good bottle? SHERLOCK: Of course. Child’s play. JEFF: Well, which one, then? (Sherlock opens the door a little but shows no sign of leaving the room.) JEFF: Which one would you ’ave picked, just so I know whether I could have beaten you? (Sherlock closes the door again.) JEFF (chuckling): Come on. Play the game. (Slowly Sherlock walks back towards him. When he gets to the table, he reaches out and sweeps up the bottle nearest to Jeff, then walks past him. Jeff looks down at the other bottle with interest but his voice gives nothing away as he speaks.)

Aside: Aaaand now I get the deeper level of all the Russian roulette gun-swapping references that have been going around (maybe kept up most hilariously by @joolabee originally). 

ARG Meta Interpretation of the ASiP Classroom Showdown

Sorry if this is just reiterating something that someone else has already done. My brain is mush at the moment, and it is entirely possible folks have already thought of this exchange in a post-S4, mid-ARG context.

Here’s the mid-ARG meta view of this scene:

The fandom doesn’t have to play the ARG (alternate reality game). No one is making us. We could just walk out of here.

But. We don’t like being manipulated. We decide to play along only so far as to call the puppet master’s (cabbie/Moriarty/Moftiss) bluff, and make them show us what we are playing for, and force them to surrender.  I’ll have the gun, please. We know what we are looking at (johnlock) and we believe we are right. We cannot be intimidated. I believe this corresponds to the anti-S4 backlash campaign, and the earnest expectation of more content.

The bluff is called. Definitely. The gun. Gun is not what it appears to be. The fandom unpacks TFP and other elements of S4 that are “fake,” and documents/discusses, all in record time. Some of us come out of shock and begin to see elements of narrative threads that can make sense of the mess, the true signals buried in the fake noise.

The Powers That Be (TPTB, the cabbie/Moriarty/Moftiss, all of whom are in charge of the game structure and who know us well enough to be always changing it to suit us with perfect temptations) applaud our skill in seeing the fake gun. We are unfuckable; no fear. We insist:  I know a real gun when I see one.

On our own, we look back over all the times in BBC show canon, esp. within that TPTB seemingly acknowledged fandom interpretation as being deeper than casual-viewer understanding of the show. This was them saying to us: None of the others did. TAB’s heart of the conspiracy, TST’s references to ice lollies, tea code, the best secret societies having acronyms, TFP shockproof elephant glass, etc.

After S4 airs and is effed up, especially TFP, they begin to lose us for a a bit, first because narrative was false to its characters, and then because queerbaiting hamfistedness. TPTB will not publicly or officially engage to confess what their deal is. But we know what we saw. Justifiable anger/frustration/hurt from fanbase over TPTB’s lack of acknowledgment re: queerbaiting and lack of representation. Fandom amasses lists of canonical show reference points as evidence of our case. We take that case to the wider internet, to the BBC, and elsewhere, to try to hold TPTB somehow morally or legally responsible for all that jazz. There are conversations about the fandom crowdfunding an Operation Norbury PR/lawsuit initiative. We get up to leave, and we say to them: Clearly. Well, this has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case.

And then. And then they challenge us to play the game anyway, with the free knowledge that they cannot manipulate us directly with more bullets of questionable narrative content -- nothing more has been officially announced. We are on the point of walking away to wait passively, to write fix-it fic and make art and chat amongst ourselves, and get on with our lives. . . . But. There is a hint of a vast situation in front of us that offers puzzle-solving, intelligence, close-reading of the world, adrenaline and connections. Also possibly witty recycling of our own in-jokes and crack memes, and helping those to become part of the actual 130-year-old vast Sherlock canon’s Great Game, in the service of making real what we have repeatedly seen and know to be true within the BBC show. It’s rather irresistible. And they say: Come on. Play the game.

Do we turn around and consider it? I have already decided I need to sit down at the table and examine the possibilities. I don’t care about seeming foolish, so pride is not a concern. It’s not risking my life, and has the potential to be great fun. . . I respect the decision of those who don’t want to play, but personally I do. I think this is us losing our patience in the most delightful way possible, and taking the reins. Expect the best explosions.

So that’s that. I have no idea how much of this I can keep up with, simultaneously with work commitments and a personal life. But I have hope that the community can collectively carry it forward 24-7 and keep an open mind, and keep pulling on loose threads because it’s fun, and we’re clever. The fandom knows no time zones; we are global and we are engaged. You’re a scintillating group, and this narrative, this Sherlock-TV-world-real-life narrative, is super compelling. It pushes all my researcher buttons in the best way, with the ultimate reward that finding answers makes them real. No clue whether we will see canon Johnlock but I think this is worth playing to see where it goes.

Especially if we can wink knowingly at each other while doing so. (Pleased to meet you, by the way.)

Postscript: Suggestions for How to Play

ARGNet post on Getting Started with ARGs (X)

If you don’t want to play the ARG but want to stay otherwise actively engaged in the fandom, consider saying so at the top of your Tumblr blog, and perhaps blocking the (#sherlock arg) tag. I propose that tag should go on everything ARG-related. 

Reminder to please document with links what you do, and tag/share info so that others can easily know what you’ve done and seen, and carry it forward. When you can, read the notes on a post and repost from something useful or new that someone else on that thread has said, done or seen -- this includes folks who want to be part of it all. Embed links in X marks like so (X) so they will show up in notes.

Players who are coming at this from TJLC fandom should throw in the #tjlc tag, to keep it front and center. All ARG playing requires tinfoil hat wearing, so I’m going to say we mostly drop that set of tinfoil hat tags unless you want to throw it in there. It’s more important to keep #tjlc if that’s the flag you fly.

If you are codebreaking, please post:

the encoded source ciphertext and where it came from (with a link also if possible), and

if you have broken the code, include the translated plaintext, as well as

what kind of cipher it was, and what key(s) it used.

be sure to add the tag (#sherlock arg codebreaking) so our army of smarties can become increasingly code-literate within the ARG, as codes become more complex.

If you’re playing, then play. Contribute something. Use the tags to read up and learn for yourself what’s going on. Engagement is always welcome, but try to refrain from just passively asking others to fill you in personally via direct questions to their ask boxes. Folks will be busy pursuing their own inquiries and organizing the info they have found. And ask box space may be precious to some, if that is how ARG clues tend to arrive from mysterious sources. 

Other optional tags: 

#dancing with the octopus = not knowing how many of the arms of the ARG we are or will engage, but enjoying ourselves anyway. 

#the greater game = gives immediate context for what the ARG is in a way that makes folks think of Sherlock and not pirates (Belated epiphany: OMG. Sherlock always wanted to be a pirate. What do pirates say? ARRRRRG.)

#sherlock chess arg = references the S4 chess promo pic that throws the game pieces to us, and tells us it’s our move.

Tagging folks (I’m wary of tagging too many and causing annoyance, but please consider reblogging if you found this useful. We need to spread the word about standardizing our methods and tags! Thank you!):

@the-7-percent-solution, @whimsicalethnographies @teapotsubtext, @ti-ori-se @jenna221b, @inevitably-johnlocked @marcelock @tjlc @tjlcisthenewsexy, @mrsashdown, @materialofonebeing @joolabee, @toxicsemicolon, 

[blameitontheillustrator-blog]

Things i’m ready to accept, and things i’m gonna need a fucking explanation for

After a few rewatch sessions, here are my conclusions about The Six Thatchers as of January 3rd. There are things that I’m ready to accept, and there are loose threads that don’t make sense to me. In any other tv series, I would dismiss this as bad writing, but I have no reason to believe that Gatiss would write something so sloppy. Especially since we’ve been told that “intuitions are not to be ignored [...] they represent data processed too fast,” and that we have to pull on the loose threads because in the end they’re meaningful. And Gatiss tells us through Mycroft: “No loose ends on my watch.” Fair enough. 

So here’s what I’m ready to accept.

It might not be what I think should have been done, or what I had predicted, but it still makes narrative sense.

1. Sherlock forgave Mary/Rosamund and considered her as a friend. 

With every episode, we learn that Sherlock is kinder and more generous than we previously thought he was. Sherlock has such a big heart, he’s deeply loyal, he cares so much, and he made a vow. To protect all three of them. Regular human beings would probably consider that her shooting him was sufficient to break that vow, but Sherlock is not a regular human being, and that’s okay. 

But: When did he forgive her? When he was in his mind palace after the shooting, it was all “john watson is definitely in danger, that wife.” Then she threatened him as he awoke from coma, and then again in the empty house. So when did the forgiving take place?

2. John is cheating.

I have no problem believing that (1) John Watson would cheat; and (2) that he would cheat with a woman. He’s been casually mentioning that men cheat on their wives on almost every episode since s2, and he’s been unhappy in this marriage for a long time. @ivyblossom​ highlights beautifully how it all fits in John’s character arc. I’ve seen people being shocked that John would cheat with a woman or “heterosexually.” That pisses me off a bit - I thought it was settled that John was bisexual. He can be bi with a preference for women, and that still makes him bisexual, and it’s still not an obstacle to Johnlock. Please stop. 

3. Mary/Rosamund is redeemed.

Let’s say all the problems that I’ll be mentioning below are solved. Let’s say we get to see a narratively coherent interpretation of Mary’s dark past, and then she takes responsibility for her actions, saves Sherlock - now they’re even. I’d be okay with it. So the destination is fair, but the journey made little sense. Which brings us to...

Here’s what I’m gonna need an explanation for.

1. Why hide this version of Mary/Rosamund’s past from John Watson?

So Mary/Rosamund was part of a team of freelance agents that were often hired by the British government to save hostages, including British ambassadors. Ok but. That’s not something that Mary had to hide from John. Or if she didn’t mention it at first, that’s not something that was worth shooting Sherlock for. And “you won’t love me when you’re finished”? No, John would find that exciting actually. 

There has been so many hints that she was involved with Moriarty, hints that were either reinforced or added in TST, that it seems cheap if that is not explored. Especially her sending a dvd with “Miss Me?” If she was never involved with Moriarty, that is not playing fair on Moftiss’ part. 

So unless what we have seen is not the whole of it (and the fact that she says that they were for hire for anybody with a good offer, regardless of morality makes me think there is something else), this is unsatisfying.

2. How did Mary/Rosamund know that she could find Sherlock at the aquarium?

As @bbcatemysoul pointed out, Sherlock didn’t mention the aquarium, nor did he ask her to meet him, as he did in his text to John. So how did she know? Vivian mentions that she used to meet agents there. This is not a speculation post, but #eye emoji. 

3. That’s not how getting shot works.

As everyone pointed out, and especially @riteofashkente​, that scene was ridiculous and in every way wrong. The contrast with how Sherlock getting shot in HLV was handled is blatant. 

4. “Go to hell, Sherlock.”

The post-credit scene, and especially the fact that it was post-credit as @beejohnlocked​ pointed out, puts into question the “Mary is redeemed” narrative. 

As far as I’m concerned, there are two possible ways to interpret the “Miss Me” video.

If she's as good as the episode suggests: "Save John Watson, support him during this difficult time, have him back at 221B, make him happy. And go to hell because I couldn’t save him, I couldn’t make him happy, because I loved him and he could never love me back, not the way he loved you, because in the end you win." If she's as bad as HLV and TAB suggest: "Save John Watson, 'cause I know he's a cheating fuck and I'll make sure to make him suffer from beyond my grave, yes this is a fucking threat, and also go to hell because I never liked you anyway."

So which one is it? What is real?

5. E and the Lady in Red are played by the same actress.

John meets E at a bus stop where Culverton’s tv show is advertised, and there are spoilers out there saying the Lady in Red is Culverton’s daughter. I’m expecting an explanation in TLD.

Things that bug me but that don’t prevent me from getting a good night sleep.

1. “When I’m gone...if i’m gone.”

2. That damn skull painting.

3. Different dialogues in scenes that are repeated (“mummy’s coming” vs “i’m coming”).

4. John updating his blog, but it’s a very obvious full screen picture of his dashboard, and we know that John’s blog is no longer being updated but somehow they mention it all the time anyway? Did all the money for updating the blog in real life go to point 5?

5. Amanda was seen on set for a long time, way after the filming of ep1 ended. That’s either a lot of (1) wasted budget if she was payed or (2) dedication if she was not.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey there! I love your blog! There's something bothering me a lot, and it's the interview where Gatiss and Moffat state that Jonlock will never happen and that they are tired of saying it and that people are twisting their words to get a johnlock confirmation.. How can you still have faith in this ship when they keep repeting it's a no go.. I'm such a huge johnlock shipper, and used to believe in it till series 4, but now it's getting harder and harder not to loose faith..

these are part of the interview i was talking about: “Don’t blame us for things that aren’t there. It is infuriating. We get pilloried for these things as if our show – we haven’t even made the thirteenth one yet – has to have the shoulders to bear every single issue and every single campaign point. You can’t do that. It’s our show, they’re our characters, they do what we want them to do, and we don’t have to represent absolutely everything in that ninety minutes. It’s impossible. ”

“But we’ve explicitly said this is not going to happen – there is no game plan – no matter how much we lie about other things, that this show is going to culminate in Martin and Benedict going off into the sunset together. They are not going to do it.”

Hi Nonny!

Ah, yes, this is from the infamous WithAnAccent Interview from SDCC 2016, which actually sparked a LOT of controversy in the fandom at the time because the writer of this article refused to release sources for their content, when Nerdgeist offered up sources with no question, and essentially, I THINK if I recall correctly (please, friends, correct me if I’m wrong), that the writer was essentially being very anti-Johnlock themselves. I actually talked a bit about it here. There was actually a followup story the following day or so, which was a “part two” and basically confirmed Mofftiss lie all the time. I believe this was the same con that Mofftiss made the speech about “grumpy bisexual” and “camp gay” comments, and how you have to be careful about how you introduce LGBT characters. I suppose the latter interview can be left up to individual interpretation.

SDCC 2016 was a wild one, that’s for sure.

That said, we also have the comments by and actions taken by the creators post-S4 (like blocking and mocking people who talked about Johnlock, admitting to queerbaiting, etc.). So yeah, I can see why you are at a loss as to whether or not Johnlock will be canon, especially after whatever the hell S4 was. And that’s totally okay, Nonny! You’re allowed to be upset, and to really not think there’s any more coming, especially when all the cast, creators and crew either speak ill of Johnlock or block people, admit to queerbaiting, or shirk the questions. It’s totally okay Nonny! You’re allowed to not believe there’s more; there’s plenty of evidence pointing to what we got is “it”.

So, what still keeps me going after all of this, after all of the negativity surrounding S4? For me, I still have faith because what the narrative is telling us belies the word coming out of everyone’s mouths. In Seasons 1 to 3 and TAB, we are shown that Johnlock is the glue that holds the series together. This is demonstrated by the utter lack of Johnlock in S4 and you get a show that makes absolutely no sense. The quality of S4 is not the same as the previous seasons, and I just have a REALLY hard time believing that this Emmy-award-winning team:

Suddenly forgot how to film a scene without getting a camera operator in the shots.

Made sloppy editing choices that look bad on the crew (ie sloppy transitions, jaundiced skin, making sure the camera people weren’t in the shots).

Repeated scenes without any explanation as to why.

Created more plot holes than answers.

Forgot ALL the rules they established for their universe in previous seasons.

Gave us SO many inconsistencies. SO MANY.

Create Eurus who makes no sense at all.

Are STUPID METICULOUS about EVERYTHING in EVERY FRAME of EVERY SHOT, but are claiming none of it means anything?

Suddenly decided to no-homo the entire series and make these characters they claim to love so much essentially NOT the “Sherlock and John show”, like they were claiming for years.

Made the first two episodes look so beautiful but created whatever the hell TFP was.

Went from TAB to... that. It doesn’t make sense.

Etc. etc. etc. ad nauseum.

TL;DR: S4 makes no sense and I just CAN’T let that go. As a logical creature, I need to pick apart everything to try to make sense of it.

Anyway, I do honestly have a bit of hope for something more, that there may be a Johnlock ending eventually. I do believe either something happened behind the scenes that we’re not privy to, or it’s “recreating the outrage of the original TFP”, or it’s purposely bad to get people to realize that the show is pointless without Johnlock, or they were annoyed we figured it out. 

As many of my followers know, I reluctantly want an S5, if only to explain the fuckery of S4. 

Anyway, thank you  for the lovely comment about my blog! I’m glad you enjoy it here, despite my flip-floppiness LOL.