#pining john watson

[gregorovitch-adler]

Beloved

"So, she's alive then. How are we feeling about that?" John asked, holding a whiskey glass in his left hand.

He knew he had wrecked everything by not denying Irene's statement: "Well, I am (gay). Look at us both."

How could he? Wasn't that the truth? Sherlock was the person John and Irene Adler had both fallen for, even though he did not comply with the sexual orientation of either of them.

Once she had hit the core of the matter with a few words, John had no option but to remain speechless; much as he would have loved to retort - just to get a one-up over her in a conversation for once.

On the contrary, John had huffed out a short laugh in approval.

What was worse, Sherlock had heard all that. He had been standing right there the whole time, revealing his presence because of that bloody text alert sound.

Meaning: Sherlock now knew how John felt for him.

John gulped down his throat at the horrifying thought.

Sherlock was holding his violin close to his neck, contemplating which tune to play next. Another song for Irene, John thought bitterly.

John had helped Mrs Hudson with her bruises from those anonymous attackers. Sherlock had taken care of those attackers on his own, and now they were probably locked up in Scotland Yard.

The point was that John had tried to approach Sherlock, wanting to clarify everything after whatever happened in the Battersea Power Station. To make things less awkward, if at all that was possible. But he had been interrupted the first time. So, he was giving it a go once more.

"D'you think you'll be seeing her again?" John pressed, unwilling to let go of this subject today, even after Sherlock's lack of response - which had led to a rather pointed silence in the sitting room.

Sherlock walked closer to the window, without even bothering to turn around. "Happy New Year, John," he said over his shoulder and began to play.

John felt physically sick in his stomach. He sipped on his whiskey, wincing at the burning sensation in his mouth. Somehow, even swallowing a sip of alcohol felt like trying to shove a large piece of rock down his throat.

By not replying to John's very direct questions, Sherlock had made it crystal clear where his interests lay. The Woman.

John had fallen for Sherlock a long time ago. He would sometimes scare himself off with the amount of seriousness he felt whenever he thought about his love for Sherlock.

He was John's beloved, in his mind at least.

Now, if Sherlock had fallen for someone else... who was John to get in the way?

John just wanted to see Sherlock happy and stable. If Irene being alive after all made him feel that, then so be it.

John sighed wistfully, looking in Sherlock's direction one last time, before he made his way to the staircase leading to his bedroom.

Subconsciously, he gripped the whiskey glass tight on his way.

***

Prompt Beloved by @onesmallfamily

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

[earlgreyinpajamas]

Your recs are brilliant. Do you ship any other ships? If yes, any fics that you’ve enjoyed? :)

i shipped johnlock once upon a time, and some of the fics that i remember being really good are:

A Chemical Defect Found (On the Losing Side Remix) by AreteArt

A remix of missselene's "On the Losing Side." After Mary's death, John moves back into Baker Street. He and Sherlock stumble into a relationship, or something of that sort. Sherlock's rather giving when it comes to sex, but that doesn't mean he and John ever talk about it.

~~~

ugh this made me hurt so bad

2. Gordian by fresne (@fresne999)

On any given day, Sherlock might come out of the bathroom smelling like an Alpha on the hunt (Alpha #8) or an Omega in heat (Omega #9), a Beta brooding (Beta #3), or like no gender at all. The last one was his actual scent, which wasn't so much scentless as confusing. At least in an adult. If Sherlock and John were the sort of people to read Mills and Boon novels, they could have said that what occurred was because destiny intervened and set two destined lovers in their one true pairings' path. It was the lasagna.

~~~

the oblivious pining in this fic slaps

3. ranger panties by simplyclockwork (@simplyclockwork)

While in London on leave, Captain John Watson and a particularly intriguing article of clothing manage to catch the attention of one consulting detective.

~~~

cackled i swear

[noodles-and-tea]

Johnlock but from The Abominable Bride?👀

Watson’s trying his hand at deductions (it’s not going well)

[fogdraws]

When two interests collide...

[aunhinged]

The “platonic” wars: sherlock/house

Sherlock and House decide to let the internet settle the debate on whose got the more “professional” relationship.

House: Lets take a vote. Whose got the more professional relationship? Me and Wilson, or you and Watson?

Sherlock: A flawed system. Most people wouldn’t recognize subtle homoerotic tension if it hit them in the face.

House: So you admit there’s tension?

Sherlock: Not in my case. I’m talking about you. Have you seen how often Wilson looks at you during meetings?

House: Thats called worry, genius. You wouldn’t know about that because John’s too busy tolerating your nonsense.

[topsyturvy-turtely]

turtely's OTP challenge

read day 25 "That Familiarity, That Femininity" on Ao3!

prompt: trying to seduce one another

summary: Sherlock knows just the trick to get John to be more open to dating men. More specifically, dating Sherlock.

T, 894 words, Getting Together. Developing Relationship, Drinking, Lipstick & Lip Gloss, Kissing, Mutual Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension

or read it on tumblr:

🩷💜💙🩷💜💙🩷💜💙🩷💜💙🩷💜💙🩷💜💙🩷💜💙🩷

Sherlock was laying on the couch, hands steepled underneath his chin. He was thinking. About John Watson – as so often. John went on many dates. He didn’t seem too happy about them. Or, yes he did, but there were never many dates with the same woman, which he then complained about until he found a new woman to go out with.

That’s when Sherlock opened his eyes widely. It was clear as water all of the sudden: John just needed to go out with a man for once. He knew John was bisexual. He never told him that, but the signs were clear. Well, and since it would take a while to find a candidate, he would gladly suggest himself.

He got up to take a shower.

He went to put on fresh clothes… Black shirt, one more button open than necessary. Tight, black trousers, the ones that flattered his arse exceptionally nicely. He styled his hair into a perfect curly mess. He put on cologne and… hesitated. He looked very masculine… maybe if he gave John something familiar – something feminine – John would more easily get over the fact that Sherlock was a man. It didn’t take long to find just what he was looking for. Sherlock smiled cheekily.

***

John was frustrated. Sexually frustrated. He loved sex, hell, he would go so far and say he needed sex. He was grumpy and agitated when he hadn’t had sex in a while. Was it a bad thing to like sex that much, need it, even? John didn’t know and quite frankly didn’t care. He just knew he wanted it.

So today John would go out, take Stamford with him. Wear his best smiles, use his best jokes and get laid. John nodded at himself. As good as done.

When he got home he immediately took a shower. As he walked out of the bathroom, only wearing his towels low on his hips, he noticed Sherlock was laying on the couch. He greeted him, then headed upstairs to change into better clothes.

***

Breathe in (Sherlock breathed in), breathe out (Sherlock breathed out). He didn’t know why he was freaking out, but he was. That wasn’t entirely true: He knew he was freaking out because he saw some skin. That really shouldn’t be that special. He had seen lots of skin before, lots of naked bodies even. However, Sherlock didn’t expect John to come out of the shower showing off that much of naked skin, practically radiating sexual energy at him, as if he was some kind of sex god. Sherlock groaned and sank deeper into the couch, the images rushing into his mind.

Finally he heard John coming down. He wore nothing special really. A button up, dark jeans, his best cologne.

“I am going out. I will go pick up Mike,” John declared.

Sherlock sat up. “There’s no need.”

“How do you-“ John stopped. Stared. Opened his mouth, “What happened to your lips?”

Sherlock wanted to smile, wanted to squeal and jump, when John stared at him. Eyes fixated on Sherlock’s lips. He had him. Right there, that was the familiarity, that femininity John needed. He stood up and walked over to John. “Lipstick, John. Lipstick happened to my lips,” he said. Sherlock scanned John’s face, categorised his reaction. Smirked, “You are going out with me tonight.”
John still glared at his mouth. When he finally realised he had been staring he breathed in deeply, raised his gaze to Sherlock’s eyes. And bravely, like the closeted bisexual, ex-army doctor he was asked, “Where to?”

***

Now, John was sitting at a bar, which name he had already forgotten and glared at the smear of lipstick on Sherlock’s glass. It was stupid, really. But seeing dark red lipstick on Sherlock’s face… he took another gulp from his third drink (or was it the fourth?).

He had tried to look at women, even checked out some guys, but his attention always fell back to his best friend. And that goddamn lipstick. They were talking about… he didn’t even know what. He looked down, surprised. How had his hand landed on Sherlock’s forearm? Didn’t matter. His eyes found Sherlock’s. He surprised himself, when he asked, “Do you want to dance with me?”

Sherlock’s face was full of questions for second. Then he said, “Let’s.”

So John got up, took Sherlock’ hand because hell, he was drunk and he wanted to. When they were on the dance floor John stood there for a second. Then started giggling. “Sherlock, I forgot that I have no idea how to dance!”

Sherlock stepped closer. “I’ll teach you,” his deep voice kindling something inside of John . The detective took John’s hands in his, put them on his shoulders. And as they stood there - John’s arms around Sherlock’s shoulders, the tall man’s lips dark red at John’s eye level – intoxicated as he was, he leaned in. Not to dance, no. To kiss. Immediately Sherlock responded – he stepped closer, put his hand on John’s neck, his thumb caressing the space behind his ear. The kiss was careful at first, but with every second it grew more rough. Leaving almost no room to breathe.

“I think we should take this dance lesson to Baker Street” John groaned between kisses. Sherlock, whose lipstick was now smeared, searched John’s eyes, then nodded.

It was a nice ‘dance lesson’ indeed.

🩷💜💙🩷💜💙🩷💜💙🩷💜💙🩷💜💙🩷💜💙🩷💜💙🩷

comment on ao3!

tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed please 💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @catlock-holmes @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @baker-street-blog @macgyvershe @myladylyssa @battledress @a-victorian-girl @dreamerofthemeadow @oetkb12 @ohnoesnotagain @mutedsilence @jawnscoffee @raenchaosandcozyadashofmurder @lisbeth-kk @quickslvxrr @compact-and-beautiful @kabubsmagga @startrekker2011

[helloliriels]

When you said... 'married to your work'

Did you mean... 'till death do you part?'

Asking for a friend ...

[blistering-typhoons]

the undercurrent

Watson has not picked a particularly glamorous moment to fall in love with his best friend.

[discreetowl]

JOHNLOCK FIC!

Towards the end of last year (so not that long ago) I began on my first johnlock fic. It’s incredibly OOC but has been so much fun to work on; I wanted to do something different than anything I’d read before. It’s Johnlock with a lovely sprinkle (more like a downpour) of MorMor.

These Unsuitable Pyrotechnics by discreetowl

Explicit, Words 100k+, Chapter 21/26

Additional Tags: Sherlock Holmes has feelings, POV John Watson, Jim Moriarty is a little shit, Jim Moriarty has feelings, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Slow Burn, Developing, AU- High School, Smut, Fluff, Friends with benefits, Angst, Mutual pining, Emotionally unavailable John Watson

SUMMARY: “You had all of me that I knew how to give. And if you would ever have me again, I would give you all the rest.”

Or, the one where John is a jaded bastard who has sworn off love completely, Sherlock is a grand romancing photographer/footy coach, whilst Jim and Seb face their own troubling complexities (arson included).

Oh, and Greg is there as well.

—

This is an extremely OOC AU.

Slow burn, updated regularly; sad to happy to infuriating to fucking devastating to somewhat happy again.

Enjoy, and please indulge me with any questions, thoughts, or points of clarification.

[radio-guts]

about to do a tandem interest run

Sherlock & co. X journal 3 + tales of the strange and unexplained X Marcys journal (I need the scrapbook, comic book, and book of Bill,)

wish me luck

[technoarcanist]

Every over the top series with over the top characters and stakes needs a Vibe Check character to call out the absurdity of their universe once in a while

doctor strange: the infinity stones are extremely powerful artifacts that when combined can give its wielded ultimate power

peter parker: oh so like the chaos emeralds?

tony stark: please shut the fuck up

[gregorovitch-adler]

Heartfelt

Sherlock,

Where do I even begin? I suppose I should start with an apology.

I'm sorry. Sorry for blaming you for Mary's death. It was her decision and you couldn't have done anything about it.

Sorry for cutting you out of my life and abandoning you when you needed me the most. I was a bloody idiot for ignoring that arsehole Culverton Smith when he talked about taking you to his 'favourite room'. You shouldn't have ended up at that place at all. It was my fault.

Finally, I cannot apologise enough for beating you up and physically assaulting you relentlessly that day. You had done nothing to deserve that. Nothing.

Least of all from someone like me. Me - the guy who ended up having a text affair with some random woman when Mary was alive, and the same guy who can't take care of his own daughter and relapses into alcoholism at any inconvenience in his life? Absolutely not.

I'm a horrible, horrible person who once happened to fall in love with the best and the kindest and the wisest man I'd ever known - you.

Yeah, that's true. I know it would be hard to believe, almost impossible, but it's true.

It is damn time I admitted it. I fell in love with you as soon as we met. And I'm still in love with you. I would like to elaborate more on that in person, but I'll leave it here, right now.

It's unbelievable that you're still kind enough to continue being my friend after that day. Anyone else would have called the police on me, or would have cut me out of their life, and I would've bloody deserved that.

I don't deserve you, that's for sure.

I beg for you to forgive me for real. I don't deserve to be forgiven, but you sure as hell deserve to hear an apology. So, there.

I don't expect you to return my feelings. I just want to be with you in any way you'd have me. It's an honour being your friend. I leave the rest to you.

Your friend (still, I hope),

John.

--

That was the e-mail John had been composing the whole morning - with the interruptions of spilling tears here and there or pressing backspace to delete the draft altogether.

John went through the final one and decided this was good enough as a heartfelt apology. The tone was a bit informal for an e-mail, but he was not applying for a job. It was Sherlock - John hoped he would understand.

John bent over his study table in the sitting room to click on 'send' with his trembling hand and furrowed brows.

Sitting on a wooden chair, he shut the lid of the laptop and swallowed as he wrapped his arms around himself.

Was it good enough? He sincerely hoped it was, even though he knew what he did to Sherlock - the man he was supposedly in love with - was unforgiveable.

***

Sherlock September Challenge.

Prompt: Heartfelt by @onesmallfamily

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

[curlyjohnlock]

Martin Freeman, ladies and gentlemen.

99% sure u noticed this but u know how after John's speech in front of Sherlock's grave he does a military turn (idk the proper term for it) and continues marching? It always breaks my heart because John was just thrown back into his traumatic war days which he managed to escape after meeting Sherlock. Today I realized its a part that whole "off to battle" thing, JOHN IS GOING TO BATTLE BECAUSE LIFE WITHOUT SHERLOCK IS LIKE A WAR, its just him against the world without Sherlock by his side.

Hey, now. This wasn’t necessary. Why do y’all hurt me so?

Seriously, though, it’s the little nod that gets me every time; John faces Sherlock’s death like a soldier, his comrade in arms has fallen.

Watching this always brings me forward to this line by Sholto in TSo3:

SHOLTO: There’s a proper time to die, isn’t there?SHERLOCK: Of course there is.SHOLTO: And one should embrace it when it comes – like a soldier.

Now watch that scene with this in mind and with the realization that John was worried about the press in TRF because he’s seen it happen before; and imagine that John has heard this advice before from Sholto. 

John is embracing Sherlock’s death like a soldier.

You’re welcome, all.

[blistering-typhoons]

come all the same

Holmes is on his feet and crossing the dance floor before he can fully think it through, mouth mumbling a vague excuse to his table.

[gregorovitch-adler]

Sock

"John this is ridiculous."

"I know! But it's fun, so let's go for it."

"Aren't we supposed to put the notes in some Christmas stockings?"

"Forgot to buy them," said John, closing his eyes momentarily. "Let's just use a pair of socks instead. They're perfectly clean."

"D'you think Father Christmas is real?" asked Sherlock, picking up a fresh, lone sock from the coffee table. "You think he'd fulfill my wish if I just wrote it on a paper and placed it in this stupid sock?"

"I don't! I realised long ago during my childhood that he isn't real. But Harry and I used to do it anyway. It just became a habitual thing," said John as he tore off a piece of paper from a small notebook and scribbled something on it. He folded that paper and placed it in the other sock - which was of the same pair as Sherlock's.

He looked up at Sherlock with expectation, who was just sitting there on his armchair, looking at the floor with his lips pressed together.

"Go on," said John and passed another piece of paper and a pen to Sherlock across the coffee table.

"If you know your wish isn't going to come true, this whole thing is a waste of time," Sherlock said and picked up the pen paper to write something anyway.

"It's not! Think of it as a type of manifestation." John stretched his legs and yawned.

They didn't have elaborate Christmas celebrations in 221 B, but John was still happy about tomorrow. Any special occasion spent at home - with Sherlock - was a day well spent.

"I don't believe in all that. Whatever's going to happen will happen. No matter how much you manifest."

John shook his head and sighed. "All right. Suit yourself then. I'm off to bed."

John got up from his armchair with the sock in his hand. He walked across the room to the fireplace and hung the sock over it.

His note inside it was short and simple: My Current Life.

He knew it was not a wish, technically, but he did not want any external factors to take Sherlock and his life at 221 B away from him. Again.

He'd had a deep and long talk with Sherlock about the staged suicide, and why Sherlock had to do it. John had finally started to see that incident from Sherlock's perspective too, and he really wished to keep his current life forever.

Besides, John knew that his feelings for Sherlock were unrequited, and things between them were going to be that way. It was not as though he could ask for Sherlock as his partner. He would rather keep his manifestations realistic.

With these thoughts, John went to the staircase leading to his room and started to climb up.

He entered his bedroom, closed the door behind him, and hopped onto the bed immediately. It didn't take him long to doze off.

John's eyes fluttered open in the middle of the night. He was thirsty. He got up and dropped his feet on the floor. After stretching his limbs, he got off the bed and stepped out of the bedroom to go downstairs.

John stopped in the middle of the staircase to take in the whole sitting room. They had decorated the Christmas tree a day before, and despite Sherlock's complaining now and then, it had been a pleasant time.

John noticed a pair of socks hanging above the fireplace - not just his own. He smiled. Sherlock had participated in something just because John had asked him to.

John went to the kitchen to grab a glass from one of the cabinets. He took it to the sink and opened the tap to fill it.

As he began to drink, leaning against the counter, John stared at the socks in the sitting room again.

He and Sherlock were not too dissimilar from a pair of socks, were they? Each completed the other; both were useless on their own.

He did not know about Sherlock, but John knew he was pretty much useless without him.

John closed his eyes and shook his head to get these thoughts out of his head again. He sighed. If only Sherlock felt the same.

Finishing the glass of water, he put it in the sink and wondered: What had Sherlock written in the note inside his sock?

John went to the sitting room and walked to the fireplace to reach for the other sock. He knew he shouldn't be looking into someone else's note - it was prying, and it defeated the purpose - but for some reason, he could not stop himself from doing it that night.

After all, what was it that Sherlock wanted in his life so much that he ended up hanging the sock with the note - when he didn't even believe in things like that? John felt like he needed to know.

John ran his fingers over the fabric of that sock, feeling the piece of paper from the outside.

John looked over his shoulder before finally taking out the paper. He swallowed as his heart began to race. He opened the paper carefully with his fingers, and his jaw dropped when he saw what the note said.

John.

Was he dreaming? Had Sherlock written that to mess with John? But no... he wouldn't have expected John to read the note. No, it was real!

Sherlock had wished for John this Christmas. It sounded unrealistic, so John turned around the note this way and that to see if there was more to it.

Nothing. Sherlock had actually wanted John, and that was it. Nothing else.

John couldn't control the huge grin forming on his face. But that grin quickly turned into a rueful smile. If only he had known about it sooner. Then again, John had not done a great job communicating about his feelings to Sherlock either.

Anyway, as he folded the paper to place it back in the sock, John made a decision.

The moment he faced Sherlock again in the morning, he was going to discuss this with him finally. No more misunderstandings. John was going to put an end to this pining tomorrow.

But tonight, he was going to sleep fine - cherishing the memory of Sherlock's note in that sock.

Tagging: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @gaylilsherlock @lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @missdeliadili @lookingforlifeoutthere @peanitbear @a-victorian-girl @calaisreno @kettykika78

[helloliriels]

HELLOLIRIELS WRAPPED 2024

🎁 36 VIEWS OF LONDON :: a FTH gift for @thegildedbee

A patchwork image of John & Sherlock’s London, as seen through their eyes. This is Plot Without Plot (which I'm told is 'the good stuff'). 😎😋📸 Meant to be taken in bite-size chunks. It is a fully finished fic. I hope you enjoy!

💝 PRETTY in (a Frankly Alarming Shade of) PINK &

🎁 NEVER TRUST TO GENERAL IMPRESSIONS [COVER ART] :: two FTH gifts for @thetimemoves

a.k.a. Never Judge A Book By Its Cover (unless its cover is smexy) 😉 my second FTH gift for their gorgeous fic of the same title!!

💌 THE REMEMBER ME MAN by helloliriels - (WIP) a continuation of Remember Me {Though Poppies Grow series} ongoing series

🎄 CHOOSE YOUR OWN JUMPER :: (WIP) Experiment at Baskerville. A new fanfic adventure awaits in this holiday special!

🐝 God Save the Queen :: Sussex & bees never looked so dangerous

🐝 Protect the Hive :: A beekeeper has two rules ...

🐝 You've Disturbed a Beekeeper ... :: There’s nothing that I or anyone else can do to stop it now …

💎 Liri's Treasure Chest :: Hoarding treasure from WoW like a dragon, and decided to start making art of my favourite pieces.

✍️ Better Luck Next Time :: (WIP) Mike had meant it in a kindly way ... but John was in no mood for platitudes.

🏆 New Achievement Unlocked! :: a series of bloggable cheevos.

🎭 MAY IS FOR LIMERICKS :: 20+ limericks full of johnlocked angst. Welcome to limerick hell. Inspired by Calaisreno's may prompts!

Found Fandom (Found Family)

Cardiac Arrest

Pining Idiots

Fitting In

Buried Deep

Open Carefully

Awkward

Operation Wedding

Lurid Ringtone

I (May) Have Miscalculated

Made You Look

Weather Together

Smooth Move

(That's Why He Stays)

Five Minutes

Dammit Sherlock

One Last Dance (Inamorato)

Idiot (Affectionate)

Red Pants (I Imagine They Sparkle)

Examine Me

The Dying Detective

C A L A I S R E N O

Forgiven?

✍️ One More Time (With Feeling) for @totallysilvergirl :: Sherlock gets help from another Doctor. A chance to change his answer and maybe even change his future?

✍️ Warm Open :: Siri ... play 'The Game is On' ...

✍️ Open Your Eyes :: FFF#249

🏆 HELLO AWARD SEASON 2024 :: Hey, if Oscar can do it ... we're gonna have a Wilde time!!!

🏆And the award goes to ... Arwamachine

🏆And the award goes to ... Salambo06

🏆And the award goes to ... Ceruleanmindpalace

Where do🏆awards come from?

🏆And the award goes to ... Silvergirl

🏆And the award goes to ... Barachiki

Where do 💧 awards come from?

🏆And the award goes to ... Chrys

🏆And the award goes to ... Floccinaucinihilipilificationa

When You're In 🌍 Fandom Spaces

📜 One Thousand and One (Words on the Tip of My Tongue) :: a poem. John is processing his grief.

✍️ A Johnlocker Walks into Heaven :: insane wish fulfillment

🎭 S4 Goes Wrong! :: The Goes Wrong Show takes over BBC's Sherlock for the 4th season with disastrous results!

Celebrating 167 Works & 375,000 words on AO3! 🎉

2023 | 2022 | 2021 | 2020 | HELLO POETRY | HELLO PODFICS

@johnlocky @chinike @rhasima @fluffbyday-smutbynight @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @ghostofnuggetspast @calaisreno @sarahthecoat @khorazir @iwlyanmw @raina-at @chriscalledmesweetie @7-percent @safedistancefrombeingsmart @kettykika78 @aquilea-of-the-lonely-mountain @whatnext2020 @londonlock @lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @a-victorian-girl @naefelldaurk @impalaparkedat221b @dragonnan @loki-lock @gaylilsherlock @inevitably-johnlocked @elwinglyre @jobooksncoffee @amyreadsandstresses @jawnn-watson @holmesianlove @sgam76 @janetm74 @ninasnakie @peanitbear @safedistancefrombeingsmart @discordantwords @bluebellofbakerstreet @john-smiths-jawline @topsyturvy-turtely @gregorovitch-adler @lololollywrites @solarmama-plantsareneat @blogstandbygo @justanobsessedpan