#hiatusubmission

[chriscalledmesweetie]

Midnight Becomes You

Once upon a time, there was a young genius named Sherlock, who lived with his Wicked Step-Mummy and Pompous Step-Brother. Sherlock’s step-mother was horribly cruel — forcing him to do unspeakable things, like eat regular meals, and go to bed every single night, whether he was tired or not. His step-brother was even worse — taunting Sherlock with claims that he, Mycroft, was the smart one.

Sherlock bore up under these torments as well as he could. He spent his time conducting experiments, many of which resulted in spectacular explosions. Unfortunately, this only encouraged his step-brother to tease him even more mercilessly. Because Sherlock was so frequently dusted over with ash, Mycroft took to calling him Cindersherlock, in a hatefully mocking tone. Eventually, his Wicked Step-Mummy joined in, and the name stuck.

Sherlock grew into a handsome young man, but no one would have known it to look at him. In fact, the name Cindersherlock was quite fitting, as he was generally covered in a layer of soot, with his singed clothes hanging off his lean frame in tattered rags. Mycroft, on the other hand, was extremely particular about his appearance, and took great pride in being fashionably dressed and meticulously groomed.

One day, a herald rode through town bearing a royal proclamation. The queen had decided it was time for her son, Prince John, to wed. In order to find a spouse for him, she would be hosting a ball at the palace on Saint Valentine’s Day, and all of the eligible young people in the kingdom were invited to attend.

Read the rest of Midnight Becomes You on AO3.

I wrote this as a combined response to the @sherlockchallenge prompt — Midnight — and the @hiatustory theme — Valentine’s Day.

[theartone]

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Additional Tags:

Dom Sherlock

Sub John

Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage

Alternate Universe - Dom/Sub

Bottom Sherlock Holmes

Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting

Top John Watson

Virgin Sherlock

Gay Sherlock

Bisexual John Watson

Suicidal Thoughts

Language: English

Words:5432

Chapters:3/?

Updates on Fridays.

@hiatustory

If you’d like to be tagged for updates let me know.

[mikabee]

And, for the first time in their lives, they felt calm.

Watercolour-ish femlock!! <3

[mortallykeenwombat]

Complete

My submission for @hiatustory November Prompt “Soulmates”

Rating: M/E   Words:12,209

http://archiveofourown.org/works/12771144/chapters/29138712

Do you believe in love at first sight, or do I need to walk by you again?

Excerpt: Inwardly John was a bit annoyed. Annoyed with the situation with Mike but also now he had this woman hitting on him. He wasn't interested, she was pretty enough and in his younger days he would’ve taken her up on her silent invitation. As he was looking up to excuse himself his eyes caught the gaze of a man one rack over. He was stunned into silence. The man had the most dazzling pair of ice blue eyes, and they were set in an equally impressive face. He was all sharp angles but his alabaster skin softened his look but not so much that he looked feminine. John unconsciously licked his lips and tore his gaze away. He smiled down at the woman and offered her a lame excuse. When he looked back to the spot where the man had stood, it was empty. John glanced around looking for the man. He was nowhere in sight, he just up and vanished.

[adventureofthedancinggirl]

Chapters: 17/31

Words: 13,775

Rating: T

Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Additional Tags: Mutual Pining, Fluff, Parentlock, Friends to Lovers, Christmas

Summary: A series of ficlets written for the Sherlock December Ficlet Challenge. 

Chapter 1: "Peppermint", In which a cup of holiday tea and a conversation with John brings up some bittersweet feelings for Sherlock.

Chapter 2: "Wish list", Rosie writes her letter to Santa. Of course, John only has one thing on his wishlist.

Chapter 3: "All dressed up", John and Sherlock attend Rosie's Christmas play and Sherlock realizes that being a parent isn't limited by blood.

Chapter 4: "Winter Sports", Sherlock goes ice skating for the first time and discovers it’s not as easy as it looks. Lucky for him he has an excellent teacher.

Chapter 5: "Decorating", The inhabitants of 221B spend an evening making gingerbread houses.

Chapter 6: “Cold”, In which we take a peek into Molly Hooper’s life.

Chapter 7: “Christmas Cards”, Mrs. Hudson convinces her boys to take a family photo for the holidays.

Chapter 8: “Warming Up”, Lestrade’s frustrating week improves when he meets Molly for coffee.

Chapter 9: “Ghosts of Christmas Past”, John reflects on past Christmases. Despite all the bad memories he finds something to hope for.

Chapter 10: “Food and Drink”, In which a conversation is had over a candlelit dinner.

Chapter 11: “Christmas Carols”, Sherlock and John help DI Hopkins investigate an unusual series of robberies.

Chapter 12: “Elf”, John and Sherlock shop for Rosie’s gifts and discuss a popular new Christmas tradition.

Chapter 13: “Winter Wonderland”, Sherlock takes Rosie to the Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park and helps Greg chase down a lead on his missing person case.

Chapter 14: “Pine Scented”, Greg and Sherlock have a conversation while following a pine-scented trail.

Chapter 15: “Stuck at Home”, Sherlock stumbles across a murder scene while on an outing with Rosie. The way he handles it surprises both him and John.

Chapter 16: “The Case of the Frozen Corpse”, from The Personal Blog of Dr. John H. Watson

Chapter 17: “Scarf and Coat”, Sherlock pays Mycroft a holiday visit, during which they discuss Rosie’s Christmas present.

I’m still catching up on these prompts but I do intend to complete all 31, so stay tuned. Happy Holidays!

[angel-without-wings-sew]

John_lockian - Sherlock (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Rating: Explicit

Category: 

M/M

Fandom: 

Sherlock (TV)

Relationship:

Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Characters:          

Sherlock Holmes John Watson Captain John Watson - Character

 Additional Tags:

Military Kink

Hiatustory August challenge

Smut

Hand Jobs

Blow Jobs

First Time

Love Confessions

Language: English    Words:2668

@tali-zora

[discordantwords]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Sherlock (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Bill Wiggins Additional Tags: Drug Use, Time Travel, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 04, Canon Compliant, If you consider spontaneous time travel within the bounds of canon, Pining Sherlock, Pining John, Sherlock is a Mess, Bittersweet, Unresolved Summary:

Six years, give or take. And one night where nothing happened.

Written for the @hiatustory July challenge (Time Travel theme)

[love-in-mind-palace]

Qui vivra verra

Rating : Explicit.

Words : 7.8k

Summary : The day Sherlock jumped from the roof of St. Bart’s, John’s life changed. He settled into his own reality. But after two years, Sherlock appears at his door and asks for forgiveness, John isn’t sure what's real anymore.

Written for @hiatustory‘s May challenge : Bed sharing 

Tags under the cut. As always, if you wanna be tagged or untagged, just let me know.

@missartemisholmes 

@fangirllock 

@loveinthemindpalace​

@predictably-unpredictable

@lmirandas 

@shag-me-senseless-watson 

@missmuffin221 

@totheverybestoftimes 

@wtsnhlms 

@bakerstreet-irregular 

@kimbiablue 

@scandalsinpink 

@beejohnlocked  

@currently-in-my-mind-palace 

@alexxphoenix42 

@disregardedletters 

@the-blue-carbuncle 

@consultingbeekeepers 

@chinike 

@mikabee

@unapologeticocdsufferer​

@savedbyholmes  

@shawleyleres 

@simpleanddestructivechemistry 

@crreative-chaaos 

@soldierjhwatson 

@221bsweetheart 

@consultinghubbies 

@riteofashkente  @whereisjawn   

@chriscalledmesweetie 

@tjlcer 

@kellpod 

@thepurplewombat 

@sorcererofsupremepizza 

@one-thousand-splendid-stars 

@shortangrybisexual  

@depth-of-loyalty-and-love 

@cuccaine 

@yorkiepug 

@inevitably-johnlocked 

@johntheantivirus 

@aamapolaa 

@morgendaemmerung89  

@mr-brightside24 

@sherlocks-final-resolve-is-love  

@johnnlocked 

@johns-posh-boy 

@wssh-watson 

@byebyefrost  

@isitandwonder 

@johnlockshire 

@lastbow 

@consultingeastwind 

@mariowasd  

@vitruvianwatson  

@ifyouarelookingforbabynames 

@thelostsmiles 

@lawyermargo 

@iamjohnlocked4life  

@art-and-thoughts 

@dan-whites-got-an-issue 

@xcusemypotato 

@aeroplanesrock 

@johnlock-empire 

@the-moon-loves-the-sea  

@stargazingandrocknroll 

@draise 

@ripsweaty 

@jim-notdead-moriarty 

@1895-doyle-and-bronte-obsessed 

@run-wild-wish-dead 

@johnlockissquishy 

@lizavetkad 

@julastic 

@authordrawingmusic 

@voldy-ninja 

@memelockholmes 

@frantza 

@bekommissar-is-canon 

@broken-bones-for-me 

@jazzybailey 

@loveteaelephants 

@themanandthemachine 

@kiwitentacles  

@milana4723 

@thepersonalblogofsh 

@johnlockerooni 

@bathed-in-starlight​ 

@thoughtsaremydrug​ 

@sarahthecoat​ 

@footstepsontherun 

@artisticpanda23 

@computergrermlin 

@anitavjaime 

@xmrsmarvelx 

@fleurdelisandbees  

@shylockgnomes 

@moriarty-is-stayinalive  

@justkeepdancingonmyown  

@praisetwerkingsatan 

@busybiscute 

@defectivedetective 

@honeybeelullaby 

@ladyquack-a-lot

@the-three-garridebs

[mama-orion]

The Man in the Iron Collar

Summary: Separated by The Wall, the world of Men and the world of Faerie have been at war for time beyond time. As with any ancient war, the reason for enmity fades and occasionally a half-blood is born, but they are hidden and shunned on both sides of the Wall. Magically-trained healer and solider, Dr. John Watson is fascinated with the Faerie, hunting for ancient lore, learning their illegal magic, and haunting circuses in search of half-bloods. Today, he finally finds one, and everything changes. Monthly H.I.A.T.U.S Johnlock prompt: Elemental Magic Rated G: Some reference to war, but nothing depicted. Wordcount: 3,528 @hiatustory​ - Thanks! This was SO FUN. “A mind reader? You’re kidding.” “Oh come on, it sounds fun.” “It’s a load of rubbish, Watson.” “What, afraid she’ll see your girl running around on you?” “I don’t need a bloody psychic to tell me that.” “Come on.” “Fine, but you owe me a pint for this.” “Done.” The two soldiers, conspicuous in grey off-duty jumpsuits in the colorful circus crowd, wavered outside a small, grubby tent striped like a peppermint. A peeling wooden sign stood outside the door advertising, in swirling violet letters, the unparalleled abilities of the medium within. 

“You first,” said John, elbowing Kinsey, who was staring vaguely above the crowd at the bare-breasted stilt walkers, their skin patterned with intricate henna. One had conjured streamers of glitter that followed in her wake, silvery sparks snapping from her fingertips. “Go on, Major, that’s an order.” John chuckled. The fresh-faced young Kinsey was his superior due to a particularly fortunate raid against the Faerie. Unusually, half the platoon had not been driven mad by dreams or turned into donkeys. But away from the rank and file of military life, Kinsey’s youth glared and John couldn’t help having a bit of fun at his expense. Mind reader, indeed.

“Fine,” Kinsey sighed, annoyed, pulling his gaze from the women towering above them, and shouldered his way through the flap of the tent. John smiled wryly and put his ear against the rough canvas to eavesdrop, but the crowd was too loud to make anything out. 

He gave it up and snagged a paper cone of popcorn off a hawker’s tray, tossing a coin to him which the man bit, then nodded his thanks. John passed the minutes outside the tent letting his eyes wander over the crowd, scanning the rabble for half-bloods, as he always did at a circus. 

It was rumored that circuses attracted half-bloods, as was common with society’s outcasts. John wasn’t sure what to look for, he just assumed he’d know one when he saw one. When not disguised by glamors, the Faerie themselves were, according to the best of the military’s reconnaissance, still quite humanoid. Long of limb, violet eyes, a touch of feline in their features. Ever since he had heard the rumor as a boy, John had never missed a circus if it came through town.

John might now have said his preoccupation with the Faerie was official military business. It would earn him a good mark to report a half-blood to his superiors. There were long, tense periods between raids on the The Wall – it took their experts months to locate it again after an attack – and a half-blood could keep them occupied with interrogations and experiments to learn all they could about their ancient enemy.

But he wasn’t there on official business, he was off duty, having a lark. The Faerie were his own secret curiosity – and not one he could have discussed with the likes of Kinsey. It was more than a little socially unacceptable, especially as a military man, but John couldn’t help it. Their magic was ancient and beautiful – what little he could find to study. They were forbidden. They were fascinating.

He was only halfway through his cone of popcorn when the canvas flap was roughly pulled aside and Kinsey stumbled out, ashen faced. ----

The rest is over here on A03 - thanks so much for reading!

[ylc1]

Summary:  Having run away from home after finding out his family was planning on sending him as a tribute to the Fire Lord, Sherlock somehow finds himself joining the rebellion. One would agree that’s not the appropriate setting for romance. And yet-

Tags: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting/ no warnings apply

Rated: G

My submission for this month’s challenge on @hiatustory

It’s stands well on its own as a one-shot, but it’s likely I’ll end up adding more to it at some point, since I do think it’d work better as part of a longer work. However, the submissions close on the 21st and I’ll be out of the city next week so... here we are! :P

Enjoy and let me know what you thought!

[chriscalledmesweetie]

The British Government’s New Clothes

Mycroft Holmes may have been the British Government, but he was also, newly, the husband of Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. As such, he supposed there were certain concessions he could reasonably be expected to make in the name of matrimonial harmony. One of these was to attend the holiday party at New Scotland Yard. He was only willing to do so, however, under very strict conditions, which he carefully spelled out for Greg.

“I refuse to be seen with you in public if you’re wearing one of those hideous Christmas jumpers like you did last year. If I agree to go with you, will you allow me to select your outfit?”

“Only if I get to pick out yours.”

“Absolutely not. The only thing worse than having a man wearing an ugly Christmas jumper on my arm would be to have the ugly Christmas jumper itself on my back. I’ll be wearing a suit — and not an ugly Christmas suit, either. A proper, bespoke suit from my own wardrobe.”

“Fine. You can wear a suit, so long as you let me choose a festive tie for you.”

“Nothing with flashing lights or sequins.”

“Of course not. I know who I married. Don’t worry — it’ll be tasteful. I’ll even let you show me which suit you’ll be wearing, so I can make sure the tie matches.”

On the evening of 23 December, Mycroft was relieved when Greg presented him with a dark green silk tie with a subtle pattern of holly leaves woven into the fabric. It would, indeed, go nicely with the suit he’d chosen to wear. Mycroft knotted the tie expertly around his neck before buttoning up his waistcoat. He reached for his jacket, but it wasn’t hanging where he’d left it.

“Greg, have you seen my suit jacket?” he called.

“Right here,” Greg said, appearing in their bedroom doorway with the jacket held open for Mycroft to slip his arms into. “Come on — we’re already going to be late.”

The party was in full swing by the time they reached New Scotland Yard. Mycroft could hear a buzz of conversation, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter, as he and Greg approached the gathering. As they made their way arm-in-arm through the crowd, however, a hush fell in their wake.

How ridiculous, Mycroft thought. The fact that Greg and I are wearing understated and properly tailored suits rather than garish and misshapen Christmas jumpers like the common riffraff is no reason for people to stare.  

No one said a word, but Mycroft could feel their eyes on his back as he passed by. Undaunted, he continued across the room, heading for the refreshments.

Sherlock, John, and Rosie stood between him and his goal. In general, Mycroft didn’t think Scotland Yard was an appropriate place for a four-year-old, but as this was a Christmas party, rather than an active criminal investigation, he refrained from commenting. Instead, he merely nodded at his brother and brother-in-law, and gave his niece a small smile.

Sweeping by with his eyes on the Christmas pudding, Mycroft missed the look that passed between his husband and John, or Greg’s mouthing of the word “appliqué.”

He couldn’t possibly miss Rosie’s voice, however, piping up as clear as a bell in the quiet room. “Why are those reindeer mating on Uncle Mycroft’s back?”

Written for @crazycatt71’s Ugly Christmas Apparel Challenge and the @hiatustory December prompt: Christmas. I didn’t plan on this ficlet early enough to submit it to the @mystrade-advent-calendar, but it’s also part of my Naughty Mystrade Christmas series.

[theartone]

Finding a Helpmate

Rating: G

Summary: help·mate (ˈhelpˌmāt) -noun:

a helpful companion or partner, especially one's husband or wife.

In a universe where only the rich can afford the serum to see one's soulmate Sherlock has nearly given up on finding his.

Read on AO3

“I’m sure you’ll find your soulmate this year dear.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes at his mother’s words. She said this every year. Sherlock was nearly thirty; no one had ever taken this long to find their soulmate. It was possible that Sherlock’s soulmate had died before they could meet but Sherlock rather thought Sally Donovan was right when she said he just didn’t have one.

Soulmates were something only the upper-class could afford to find. The serum that allowed people to see their soulmate’s aura was outrageously expensive and Sherlock couldn’t help but feel that he’d been wasting his parent’s money for the past ten years.

Sherlock hovered on the outskirts of the party, amusing himself by deducing the guests. When he tired of that he deduced the waitstaff. None of them had found their soulmates and quite a few of them had married although there was a fair amount of younger people who had taken the job on the off chance that their soulmate was one of the elite and would sweep them into their arms at midnight.

The room was large, built specifically for this purpose. People mingled, waiting for the sun to go down to take the serum. Auras were best seen in low light. People had until midnight on the New Year to find their other half and kiss them to create the soul bond. Sherlock wasn’t one of the masses who believed their soulmate would solve all their problems. He knew better than most that twenty-five percent of people in a soul bond found comfort in another’s bed. Sherlock did the math in his head if the bonded couples here were any indication that number had climbed to thirty percent.

Mycroft, Sherlock’s elder brother, would say that Sherlock was a romantic. Mycroft teased Sherlock ruthlessly about his lack of a love life. Sherlock wasn’t a romantic, he wasn’t. Just because he didn’t see the point of having sex didn’t mean he was saving himself for a stranger. And if he’d never kissed anyone it was just because kissing was just a prelude to sex was all.

The doctors entered and people started queuing up for the injection. Sherlock was more than capable of injecting his own dose but since he was fresh out of rehab Sherlock’s family thought it was best if no one gave him a needle.

Some of the people in the room raised their eyebrows when Sherlock joined the queues. Sherlock had done everything in his power to look younger but it was obvious he was the oldest one to get an injection that night.

As the line moved Sherlock was getting antsy. He wondered the same things he wondered every year, was he going to find his soulmate this year? What would they be like? Would they be able to tolerate him or would they have an affair? Sherlock always thought “they” but he hoped they would be a “he.” Sherlock didn’t find women attractive. He could appreciate when a woman was good looking the same way one would appreciate a painting appealing. Most women were pleasant to look at but he didn’t want to have sex with them.

When Sherlock was close enough to get a good look he deduced his doctor. The man was the most interesting person in the room. Good looking, but not so much that he had a complex about it, injured in the line of duty. The doctor smiled at the woman in front of Sherlock and flirted with her a bit. Sherlock found his smile luminous. He found himself thinking it was a pity that the doctor was straight.

The woman got her injection and moved on and Sherlock found himself floundering. He was flustered as he took off his suit jacket and cursed when he realized he had nowhere to hang it. He folded it under one arm and unbuttoned his sleeve. He paused; he didn’t want the doctor to see the track marks.

Sherlock decided he should just save himself the embarrassment and got out of line. When he walked past another table he stole a clean needle. He went to the loo and sighed. Why did he even bother? He held up the little vial of serum. He was tempted to go and sell it, he would make a killing but the serum only worked on New Year's Eve, he wouldn’t be able to get a good bidding war going in the few hours it would be useful. And what did he need the money for anyway? He wasn’t going to go back on drugs and his trust covered all his expenses. Then again, one of the conditions of his living arrangement was finding a flatmate. Sherlock had hoped that his soulmate would be his flatmate but...

This was the last year, he decided. After this year he would assume that his soulmate died and he wouldn’t bother with this silly tradition anymore. He opened the needle and had just uncapped it when the loo door opened, knocking him off balance. Sherlock dropped the needle and it clattered into the sink. The sink looked clean but Sherlock had done growth cultures of the bacteria that grew in the sinks in public toilets.

Sherlock sighed. The person who knocked into him was one of the waitstaff; they swiped the vial and took off running. Sherlock gave chase but it was the cute blond doctor that tackled the thief in the car park. The vial fell through the air before shattering on the ground.

Sherlock sighed again. Well, it looked like the previous year was his last year. He’d go inside and he wouldn’t even have to pretend he didn’t see his soulmate. Perhaps he’d get lucky and they’d find him but Sherlock rather thought it was fate, letting him down in a gentler way than it had in the past. There’d be no calm façade to uphold while he made a mad scramble to search through the crowded room this time.

Sherlock pulled out some of Lestrade’s handcuffs and called the officer to arrest the man properly. “He stole my serum before breaking it in his attempt to escape, I’d wager that is worth several charges, Lestrade. Now come get him before he hurts himself further trying to escape your handcuffs.”

The detective grumbled something about unlawful arrests but Sherlock wasn’t really listening. He was busy watching the doctor dig through his pockets and Sherlock wondered if the doctor realized he didn’t need his cane. He hadn’t used it to stand and his tackle was textbook. The limp was clearly psychosomatic.

“Here, use mine,” he said, holding a vial out to Sherlock.

“Oh…” Sherlock wasn’t expecting that. He knew the doctors could be paid in serum but he hadn’t been expecting this doctor to take that option. The man was obviously low on funds. Realizing he hadn’t thanked the doctor properly he said, “Thank you.” But Sherlock made no move to take the vial.

He noticed the tan on the doctor’s wrist and had to ask, “Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“Sorry?”

“Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know-?”

The doctor’s question was interrupted by a cheerful doctor calling out, “John! John Watson!” The other doctor introduced himself, “Stamford, Mike Stamford. We were at Barts together.”

Sherlock shifted his weight to his other foot. Where was Lestrade? It was getting late, if he had any chance of his soulmate taking the serum and seeing him before midnight he had to get back in there now.

The doctors started talking and Sherlock tuned them out. His heart sank when he looked at the clock and it was eleven. Lestrade was Mycroft’s soulmate and they’d met when Sherlock was arrested for soliciting at last year’s party. Mycroft had been more insufferable than ever afterwards but having a detective in the family allowed Sherlock to work on cases as long as he stayed clean.

“It’s getting late, John. Do you want me to give you that serum you’ve got in your hand?” Doctor Stamford asked.

“Um, no. Actually, I was just about to give it to him. I accidentally smashed his, you see.” John rubbed his neck as if he was uncomfortable.

“Oh, no worries. They put enough for two doses in each vial. I’ll just give you each half,” Doctor Stamford said cheerfully.

“Really?” Sherlock asked. He had no idea. How wasteful.

“Well, the serum works by weight and having extra never hurt anyone so they just put in the maximum dosage. You’re both so slight it shouldn’t matter. Me on the other hand, I’d need the full dose,” he chuckled at his own expense and went to his car to get two clean needles.

Sherlock checked his watch, twenty minutes to midnight, plenty of time to get back to the party.

"So," John started making small talk, "what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a consulting detective, the only one in the world," Sherlock explained.

"Oh," John said, brow furrowed in confusion. "What does that mean?"

"It means, when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me."

"The police don't consult amateurs."

Sherlock glared at John. How dare he? "My first words to you were Afghanistan or Iraq."

"Yes, how did you know?"

"I didn't know." Sherlock thought that was obvious. He'd asked a question after all. "I saw." Sherlock explained about the tan, the psychosomatic limp, the stance, everything he'd seen and all the conclusions he'd drawn from them. "And I know you're a romantic," he concluded, surprising himself. He hadn't intended to say that bit, but now that it was out he finished, "Even though you're short on funds you took the serum."

"That..."

Sherlock braced for the insults that were sure to come. No one liked being deduced like that.

"...was amazing."

Sherlock blinked in surprise. "You really think so?"

"Of course! It was extraordinary. Really extraordinary," John said.

"How do you feel about the violin?" Sherlock asked with a timid smile. Having a doctor around would be useful. Besides, John was an army doctor. The best companion Sherlock could think of for his line of work. Sherlock was sure he could cure John's psychosomatic limp. They both needed flatmates. It was meant to be.

"What?" John asked, clearly not following Sherlock's train of thought.

Doctor Stamford returned and Sherlock allowed John to go first. He made sure to angle his body so Doctor Watson couldn't see his forearm. Doctor Stamford gave Sherlock a pitying look that Sherlock ignored. He was clean and his past was no one's business but his own. Doctor Stamford put a plaster over Sherlock's injection site and Sherlock rolled down his sleeve. He turned to ask John to be his flatmate, assuming neither of them found their soulmates tonight.

Doctor Watson was glowing.

"Oh," Sherlock gasped.

"Well, this is unexpected," John said.

Sherlock winced. Of course, John liked women. How could he have forgotten? Still, Sherlock wanted John to move in. In fact, it might be better; there'd be no other soulmate to steal John away. Sherlock had gone this long without physical affection, what was the rest of his life?

"I play the violin when I'm thinking, sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you?" Sherlock had been about to say: "Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other."

But John had strode forward, wrapping one hand around Sherlock's waist and the other around the back of his head. John leaned in, pulling Sherlock down to him as he stood on his toes. He hesitated right before their lips touched.

Sherlock closed the gap.

Their first kiss was rather chaste, just a meeting of their lips. But it lit fireworks in Sherlock's chest and fire in his veins.

John was the one who broke the kiss.

"Wow," John breathed.

Sherlock privately agreed. "I thought you liked women," Sherlock said. He was mortified. He hadn't meant to say that.

"I do," John said. "Doesn't mean I don't like men." John ducked his head but smiled at Sherlock.

"Oh, you're bisexual," Sherlock realized.

"I don't like labels," John said.

Sherlock nodded his understanding.

"I don't even know your name," John said with a chuckle.

"The name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street." He winked at John, people liked it when he winked. "Move in with me."

"Alright," John agreed.

Doctor Stamford had exited during their exchange and neither of them had noticed until Lestrade showed up to take the criminal off their hands.

"Who's this?" Lestrade asked, motioning toward John.

"This is my soulmate, Doctor John Watson," Sherlock said proudly.

Lestrade congratulated Sherlock and told him he could come in to give his statement tomorrow.

"Hungry?" Sherlock asked John as soon as Lestrade had left.

"Starving," John said, licking his lips.

Inspired by this post

@hiatustory  

[mortallykeenwombat]

The Gift

It's Christmas! And John has a surprise for Sherlock.

Rating: G

Words: 1010

My submission for @hiatustory December Prompt, Christmas! This is a story previously written, but I hope to submit a completely new story before the end of the prompt.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/7205915

[adventureofthedancinggirl]

Words: 4202 Rating: T Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationship: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Time Travel, Victorian Sherlock Holmes, Modern Era, Case Fic, Trials of Oscar Wilde, 1895

Summary: The year was 1895. Like the rest of London, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were following the news about the trials of Oscar Wilde.

When they follow a young man with a personal interest in the trials into a mysterious tomb in Brompton Cemetery they find themselves transported 122 years into the future. A future where they might finally be free to explore the “love that dare not speak its name”.

Here is my entry for the @hiatustory July Challenge. I somehow ended up writing Victorian Era Holmes/Watson being transported into the modern era rather than BBC Sherlock. It’s a WIP but I’ve got the rest of the story outlined already so we’ll see where this goes!

photo source [x]

[angel-without-wings-sew]

A story I have written for the July hiatus story prompt.

[iamjohnlocked4life]

A coward is incapable of exhibiting love; it is the prerogative of the brave.                                                                         – Mahatma Gandhi

It had been a long night, and John was knackered.

Tromping through the moors, that horrible fight with Sherlock, chasing after fake Morse code signals (honestly, UMQRA? Idiot), and the failed reconnaissance date with Mortimer. God, it had been one strike after another. John just couldn’t win.

And he couldn’t sleep.

His bones ached from the damp, his head throbbed with exhaustion, every muscle begged for release, but his restless mind would not let go. He tossed and turned, twisting up in his sheet, wrapped tightly in guilt.

Sherlock’s voice echoed in his head, scared and terse and tinged with panic.

Look at me. I’m afraid, John. Afraid.

He had confided in him, revealed his emotions, laid himself bare and vulnerable, and what had John done?

Keep reading on AO3

Submitting my THoB fix-it for @hiatustory‘s May theme: bed sharing. Word count: 1954 ~ short and sweet! ♥