#sherlock fic prompts

[whispersfrom221b]

Rosie: Daddy, I brought Maya with me. Is that okay? She's new in my class and I told her you wouldn't mind.

John: *chuckles* You're lucky Mrs H made enough food to feed an army, Honey. Hello Maya, nice to me you.

Maya: Nice to meet you, Mr Watson. Rosie told me a lot about you.

John: I hope only good things and not how annoying or embarrassing I am. Stop rolling your eyes, Rosamund. And Maya, you can call me John if you like. *shouts* Sherlock, lunch is ready. And wear some clothes, Rosie brought a visitor.

Maya: I can't wait to meet your famous Papa, Rosie.

John: Papa?

Rosie: Oh, I forgot. Maya, you can't call him my Papa here. Daddy and Sherlock are still pretending they're just "good friends".

John: Preten—?

Maya: Didn't you say they were dating for three years?

Rosie: Nearly four, but they're still trying to figure out how to tell me. It's quite funny to watch them pretending. So please, don't let them know I know.

John: You know I can hear you? I'm literally next to you.

Rosie: I know.

John: Since how long did you know?

Rosie: About from the beginning. But Uncle Myc said I should wait until you tell me and enjoy the show in the meantime. He said it'd be fun and you can always trust Uncle Myc to know the fun thing. You'll like him, Maya. Uncle Myc is the best.

Sherlock: Hello Bumblebee. Hello friend of Bumblebee, I'm Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, Rosie's godfather and John's good friend.

John: Sherlock, we can stop pretending. She knows.

Sherlock: She… oh.

[chriscalledmesweetie]

I've had such fun with @notjustamumj's December prompts, I decided to put together a list for January, with the artistic support of @helloliriels. I'd love to see your stories, poems, and/or art here and in the Johnlock January 2025 collection on AO3.

1. Sentimental 2. Hiccups 3. Three 4. Hat 5. Scarf 6. Sense 7. Nonsense 8. Secret 9. Truth 10. Ten 11. Paws 12. Big 13. Lift 14. Sociopath 15. Bored 16. Wild 17. Case 18. Murder 19. Home 20. Affection 21. Candle 22. Song 23. Bed 24. Midnight 25. Fire 26. Pants 27. Chemistry 28. Body 29. Gay 30. Perfect 31. Together

If any of these prompts inspire you to create something, please tag me. And if you'd like me to tag you in my own responses, just let me know.

Please reblog to spread the Johnlock!

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 11 - Ribbons

“Brother?” Mycroft asked, surprised to see Sherlock at his door.

“Yes, well, no need to stare,” he snapped, pushing past his brother and into the apartment. He moved straight to the kitchen, unravelled his scarf, placing it on the counter, and grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl, biting into it aggressively.

Mycroft watched as Sherlock paced alongside the kitchen counter in silence. He did this when he was worked up. He’d spit it out eventually. While he waited, Mycroft grabbed a crystal tumbler and opened his freezer to pull out some vodka. He poured himself a bit and then held it up in question to his brother. Sherlock waved him off impatiently. Apparently drinking wouldn’t help. Mycroft knew to wait in silence until Sherlock was prepared to speak.

“He’s just… so infuriating!” Sherlock finally burst out with.

“I can only assume you mean John.”

Sherlock flashed his brother an angry glare.

“Want me to have another little talk with him?” Mycroft offered.

“Don’t you dare,” Sherlock snapped, pointing his half devoured apple at his brother.

“Okay but you’re here. You have… feelings to express apparently.”

“Huh. Feelings.” Sherlock scoffed and continued to pace in silence for a time and Mycroft let him. “The thing is, there’s this case. And John’s reaction has been… difficult to understand.”

“Right…”

“When he first moved in, he asked…” Sherlock paused, looking at his brother to assess his level of judgement. Mycroft wasn’t giving anything away.

“He asked me about my situation.”

“Situation?” Mycroft asked.

Sherlock simply gave his brother a look in answer and continued. “Yes, and I said the usual.”

“Not your area?” Mycroft checked.

“Quite so.”

“Seems reasonable,” Mycroft agreed. “You barely knew each other and given Dr Watson’s hobby of serial dating, I can’t see how—“

“He’s bisexual.”

“Oh? I hadn’t… spotted that.”

“Well he covers it well,” Sherlock mumbled, clearly irritated by it.

“He told you this?” Mycroft asked.

“No.”

“Okay… then…” Mycroft was confused.

“Only, now, we’re dealing with a case and it seems to really be bothering him. I can’t understand how it should bother him, though, if he is also…”

“Not publicly though,” Mycroft suggested. “Publicly, he makes a point of being straight.”

“True. Although to be precise he always says he’s not gay.”

Mycroft paused. He didn’t like seeing his brother so distressed. It often coincided with danger nights. “Sherlock, won’t you sit. The pacing is… distracting.”

Sherlock hesitated, ready to argue as usual and instead pulled out a stool and sat at the centre bench.

Mycroft relaxed against the opposite bench. “So tell me,” he began, before taking a sip of vodka. “I can decipher why the case might be bothering John - perhaps some hidden truths he’s not ready to acknowledge - but why is it bothering you so?”

Sherlock munched quietly on his apple for a while.

And Mycroft sighed. “Oh. I hadn’t noticed it before. But now I see it.”

“What?” Sherlock asked, annoyed.

“You love him.”

Sherlock instantly choked on a piece of apple and stood up again, beating at his chest to move the piece of apple lodged there. He shot his brother an angry glare.

Mycroft simply stood watching his brother flail about dramatically with a knowing smirk. “Confirmed,” he said, when Sherlock finally sat again. Without a word he grabbed another glass and poured his brother some vodka after all, sliding the glass across to him. “I can’t believe I hadn’t seen it until now,” he said.

“Well you are the slow one,” Sherlock teased, taking a sip and sitting back down.

“Lucky for you John is the slowest.”

Sherlock gave him another annoyed look.

“What do you need then?” Mycroft asked more gently.

“He’s oblivious. Irritatingly so. I don’t think he’s aware of his own identity. I can’t… see a way past it.”

Mycroft took a leisurely sip of his drink. “When we were children, Mummy used to read us a book. I don’t know if you remember it. Well, she read it to me and so I assume to you also. The one with the ribbons?” Mycroft asked.

Sherlock frowned. “Why would I keep a children’s book in my mind palace?”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Well the gist of it was about two people who loved each other so much that a connection grew. Two ribbons that tied them together. Tied their hearts together. And everywhere they went these ribbons connected them. No matter how far, the ribbons just grew long enough to keep them connected. I think Mummy used to read it so we understood that when they travelled so much, we were all still connected through love.” He huffed then, realising how it sounded. “The idea that someone could fly to another country entirely and still have their ribbons remaining connected is, of course, completely ridiculous and romanticised. Children are so gullible and stupid,” he scoffed.

Sherlock laughed. “Speak for yourself. I clearly dismissed it early on, which is why I hold no memory of it. I never took you for such a romantic, though.”

Mycroft snorted, looking down at his drink. “Actually, I loved that book so much. I used to read it to myself even when they were away. There was something… hopeful in it,” he admitted. “I think part of the reason I’ve remained single is because I refused to give any time to anyone who wasn’t worth that kind of love. I never found it.”

“You’re not dead yet, brother,” Sherlock said, suddenly feeling very sorry for his older sibling. Sherlock did tease him constantly about being a sad, lonely old man, but in truth he had always hoped Mycroft might find someone to share his life with.

“It’s fine. I’m… comfortable,” he said stiffly. They remained together in silence for a long time. Finally, Mycroft decided to impart his wisdom.

“When I first met John. When I picked him up and tested him, I was… quite taken aback. He was nothing like any of your other friends. He was instantly loyal, virtually unshakeable, in fact, yet with a vulnerability he tried desperately to hide. I couldn’t have found a more perfect partner for you, with all the resources I have at my disposal. The two of you connected instantly and I saw it.”

Sherlock looked up. “Saw what?”

“Ribbons,” he said softly, finishing his drink. Sherlock looked taken aback.

“You want my advice?”

“Please,” Sherlock said, watching his brother closely.

“John has trust issues, yet he trusts you. But he doesn’t really trust himself. He’s never going to tell you he has an interest. He’s never going to admit to being bisexual. He’s going to assume you are too far above his station in life. He’s going to assume you have deduced everything about him, including any feelings he has about you. He knows how you operate. He will expect you can see and hear his every thought and are wilfully ignoring them out of disinterest. I suspect all it would take, to win him, is to make the first move and he would topple over the cliff with you.”

“I see,” Sherlock said, swallowing hard.

“That is, if he will allow himself to admit he has feelings for a man. He could just as easily deny it to the death,” Mycroft added.

“Well that’s been very helpful,” Sherlock said, the comment dripping with sarcasm.

“You asked,” Mycroft replied smugly.

Sherlock stood and reattached his scarf to his neck. He swallowed the last of the vodka and gave his brother a little bow.

“Thank you brother. I will take that advice with the usual level of disregard that I always give it.”

Mycroft pursed his lips tight. He had tried.

And with that, Sherlock stormed out of the apartment again, out into the snow.

— —

Thanks @notjustamumj for the prompt list

@lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @safedistancefrombeingsmart @naefelldaurk @a-victorian-girl @peanitbear @starlitkeys @lumilama @yorkiepug @talkativeanxiousturtle @kettykika78 @kittenmadnessandtea @whatnext2020 @egregiously-chuffed @chriscalledmesweetie @catlock-holmes @battledress @kholkate @randomquadballpun @221beloved @little-owls-things @daltongraham @sillygirlsmindpalace @phoenix27884

@oetkb12 @odditiesandeverything @johnlockficclub @rainstarboii @bheadhe

@hospitableasacactus @wssh13 @br-nz

[topsyturvy-turtely]

Love at First Pride 💜

Johnlock fic for the may prompts hosted by @calaisreno <3 (31st may)

summary:

John just recently discovered he is bi. So this is his first Pride Parade. And then this tall, attractive man catches his eye and he promptly falls in love.

[based on a true experience by the author]

Teen And Up Audience, 892 Words, Fluff. Alternative First Meeting, Pride Parades, Bisexual John Watson, Mike Stamford the proudest straight ally, Gay Sherlock Holmes, Genderqueer Sherlock Holmes, Love at First Sight, POV John Watson, POV Third Person, Meet-Cute, they are in their 20s, Brief Mention of Alcohol and Weed

tags under the cut!

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

[discordantwords]

What’s a movie you’d love to see or write a Johnlock AU of?

SO MANY.

There's one particular movie AU that I've been working on for quite a while and hope to have in good enough shape to start posting within the next month or so. So stay tuned for that one. :D

For some other movies that I'd love to see given the Johnlock treatment…

Jaws - John as the water-phobic sheriff of a small island town and Sherlock as the marine expert called in to deal with the shark.

The Ring - I've had some half-formed ideas around some kind of fusion involving an investigation leading to Eurus and the well and maybe a curse on John.

Face/Off - Moriarty and Sherlock switching faces? Or Moriarty and John, depending on how the plot goes? Yes please.

The Fog - Sherlock would be very into the idea of ghost pirates.

The Forsaken - an early 2000s vampire movie with Kerr Smith that isn't really all that great but had some interesting ideas, and the general plot would suit a Johnlock adaptation SO well. I'd love to see someone take this on.

Honestly I'll probably come back to this with more movies, because there are few things in life I love more than a good Sherlock fusion.

[amypihcs]

FINALLY.

ONE YEAR after she gave me the idea.

@i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end. I DID IT.

Okay, posting this story one day late on the schedule because i was sleepy yesterday, lol.

Beeretired Holmes and Watson, hope you like it!

@i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end @fruitviking @cackled0g @kimgmac63

@tyrannosaurusnacks @usergreenpixel @louieclamlent @friday411

@rudbeckiasunflower @rainbow-person @skyriderwednesday @blistering-typhoons

@sadieb798 @yulagrandeur @angryducktimemachine @eisenkrahe

@geeoharee @r2y9s-notartblog @jeremys-come-to-bed-eyes @somethingintheforest

@neverquiteeden @gooolabatooo @fluff-cember @haedraulics

@calaisreno @its-notlupus @a-candle-for-sherlock @dontsmokedontdrinkfuck

[strawberrywinter4]

May 9 | Prompt: Intimidation

Warning: Depictions of violence and drug use.

“You’re just too much sometimes, that’s all I’m saying,” his mother comments as she troubles herself with the dishes.

Mycroft rolls his eyes. He knew it would be a poor idea to come visit. He should have just settled for a call.

“You almost scared John away,” she says, scrubbing a class clean. “Your comments and glares at dinner are not helpful, you know. Sherlock almost had your head.”

“John is anything but frightened by me, Mummy. He made that perfectly clear when we first met.”

“Sherlock told me about that first meeting.” She sighs, turning toward him with a scolding expression. “Mycroft, why did you do that?”

Mycroft wills his cheeks not to flush crimson in embarrassment. “It was merely for precaution.”

“Sherlock is a grown man. He can take care of himself.”

Mycroft’s hands clench the kitchen counter. She doesn’t know. She hasn’t seen the extent of Sherlock’s pain like Mycroft has.

“All I’m saying is that I think you should be more considerate to the people who seem to actually want to be around him,” she says. “And John…well, he’s a very polite man. I think he’s good for Sherlock. Very good.”

Mycroft doesn’t answer her. Realizing she’s not going to get a response out of Mycroft, she leaves the kitchen with a tut under her breath.

Mycroft’s eyes are trained to the sink.

——

The front door opens and shuts loudly, Mycroft wondering if the force of it broke any vases. Ignoring his brother in the lounge, Sherlock runs up the steps, his little feet going as fast as they can. Mycroft hears his bedroom door shut.

Mycroft sighs, getting up and leaving his science project. Heading upstairs, he turns the corner and knocks on Sherlock’s door.

“Go away, Mycroft!”

Mycroft is silent for a moment, then tries for the door handle lightly. Locked, of course. He rests his head on the door.

“If you open the door, I’ll make Ginger Nuts.”

A few seconds pass and the lock clicks, the door creaking open. One of Sherlock’s blue eyes peak through the crack. “Do you promise?”

“Yes.”

Satisfied with the reply, the door fully opens. Mycroft holds his grimace successfully, but it isn’t a simple task.

Sherlock’s eye that wasn’t peaking through the door is a mixture of purple and black, a few bruises gracing his jaw. His lip is cracked and blood is oozing down his chin.

Mycroft attempts to keep his voice leveled. “Sit on the bed, I’ll grab the first aid kit.”

Returning with the kit, Mycroft is pleased to see Sherlock took his advice for once, sitting on the sheets, eyes focused on his legs as they swing back and forth over the edge.

Without comment, Mycroft sits beside him. “Up,” he instructs, tilting Sherlock’s face to the correct position. He applies alcohol to a cotton and begins dabbing the application to his brother’s lip.

They sit in silence, Sherlock hiding his winces and Mycroft cleaning the blood and bruises.

“When are they coming back?” asks Sherlock.

“I’m not sure. Probably not for another few days.” Mycroft is used to their parents being gone for business trips, but Sherlock is still wrapping his mind around it.

Silence falls again. Then Sherlock speaks up:

“Are you really making Ginger Nuts?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

It takes everything in Mycroft not to crack a smile. “Why is that?”

“You don’t like Ginger Nuts and you only do things that benefit yourself,” he says bluntly.

Mycroft hums. “You really think so little of me?”

“Yes.”

They both share a grin.

Mycroft’s face hardens as he wipes another trail of blood on Sherlock’s cheek. “Did you decide to make another quip?”

Something changes in Sherlock’s expression. Something akin to…embarrassment? Shame? Mycroft’s not sure, but he’s never seen his brother acquire such a look.

“I didn’t,” Sherlock replies.

“Then what happened?” Mycroft demands, though his voice is quiet.

Sherlock shrugs. “I don’t know.”

And it truly seems like he doesn’t know. “Then tell me what could have possible occurred.”

Sherlock looks down, his finger trailing the design of the solar system on his bed sheet. “I thought I made a friend.”

Mycroft blinks. “A friend?”

Sherlock nods. “He said he wanted to be my friend. At break, he offered me to join him at the back of the building to play, and I said yes because…well, I told you about the pond that’s back there.”

Sherlock enjoys observing the frogs that live around there.

“I thought I’d show him the pond,” Sherlock says, this time more quietly. “But then we got there and he pushed me in the mud. His apparent friends came around the corner and…”

“Did that,” Mycroft finishes, nodding to Sherlock’s face.

Sherlock nods in answer.

Mycroft will never understand it. Out of all things, he will never understand this. Yes, Sherlock is odd. He has required rudeness over the past year, but Mycroft fully believes that Sherlock has just been taking after him.

Then there are the admittedly good things about him. Sherlock enjoys rambling about scientific discoveries, he likes to play in ponds and rain, he likes to help Mummy bake, he likes to play Pirates (which is actually quite fun), and he is a swift and independent learner. Mycroft admires these qualities. And though he’s never been good at showing his affection (and possibly never will be), he and Sherlock know how to make their relationship work.

“I will take care of them,” Mycroft says as Sherlock wipes tears from his eyes.

“They’re big,” Sherlock says. “And scary.”

Mycroft snorts. “Bigger than you. Not me.”

Hesitantly, he puts a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. This seems to give a sign to Sherlock that he’s been waiting for, and he hugs Mycroft tightly. Stunned, Mycroft settles for patting his curls awkwardly, but this doesn’t will Sherlock away. Sherlock continues to hug him and cry, and Mycroft wants to make it all go away.

After a while, Sherlock releases him and sniffles stubbornly, wiping more tears. “Can I have Ginger Nuts now?”

Mycroft stands, nodding to signal Sherlock to come along. “You’re assisting me. I know you know how to make these in your sleep.”

——

In a random building, in a random place. That’s usually where he is.

Mycroft hears either miserable sounds or nothing at all. He sees stranger’s eyes rolling to the back of their head while taking sedatives or pills.

The curls are unmistakable. Sherlock is huddled up in a corner, a blue hoodie wrapped around him loosely. Mycroft nudges him. He then turns him and is not startled to see his pale skin, his unhealthily sharpened cheekbones or his dull eyes.

Mycroft sighs.

He helps Sherlock up and practically drags him to the vehicle parked thankfully close outside.

Carefully putting him in the passenger’s seat, Mycroft gets behind the steering wheel.

Mycroft glances at him, and is overcome with what his brother has turned into.

“Brother mine. Why do you hurt yourself so?”

He knows Sherlock doesn’t hear him, doesn’t understand his whispers.

Maybe that’s for the best.

——

“I worry about him…constantly.”

John stares at him. “That’s nice of you,” he murmurs.

“But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned. We have what you call a difficult relationship.” Mycroft keeps his voice impassive. His heart aches.

John’s phone pings. It’s obviously from Sherlock.

They continue with comments back and forth. Mycroft feigns an impression that he’s only wanting Sherlock’s whereabouts for personal gain. John seems to believe it wholeheartedly.

Mycroft can’t decide if John is worth Sherlock’s time.

Probably not.

Mycroft analyzes him to get a rise out of him.

“Are we done?” John asks, attempting to keep his frustration to a minimum.

Anger issues. Of course.

The rest of the meeting goes not so smoothly. John leaves obviously bothered and Mycroft doesn’t know, he doesn’t know if he can trust this man to even come close to deserving Sherlock’s friendship.

No one does. It’s the truth.

Mycroft has been called overprotective. He’s been called annoying. Unfair. Unethical.

Mostly by Sherlock.

But what are big brothers for?

——

You can read it here on ao3 as well.

I hope you all enjoyed! Love me some Sherlock and Mycroft lore.

Prompt by @calaisreno Thank you!

Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @ninasnakie @thegildedbee @whodwantmeasaflatmate @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @sherlocknjohn221b @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @7-percent @itsonlytext @chinike @peanitbear @bakerstreetbe @curlyjohnlock @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ceceliajupe @ghostofnuggetspast @dw91165 @jolieblack @gwendelaneyisjohnlocked @cortinita @kettykika78

(Please let me know if you do or don’t wish to be tagged)

[sillygirlsmindpalace]

Day 3: Three

Sherlock's toast burns to the ground

The second attempt? In vain he frowns,

The third time, it flips – with its butter side down,

John sighs, stifling his laughter's sound.

"Clearly", Sherlock states, "The toaster holds a grudge",

"Precisely –", John teases, "you do love to judge".

He narrows his gaze, a smirk so unabashed,

Then grabs John's face, kissing him with a smack.

___________________________________________

Thanks to @chriscalledmesweetie's Johnlock January prompt list! 🩷✨

@hesagoodone @helloliriels @a-victorian-girl @peanitbear @ghostofnuggetspast @luminescentlama

[jrow]

May Prompts (1)

Thank you for doing this @calaisreno! This year I am endeavoring to write a single story using some (most?) of the prompts. Consider it a creative writing exercise. Will I write everyday and use every prompt? Unlikely! Will this be a coherent story in the end? Possibly! Do I know where this story is going? Hells no! So ... enjoy, I hope?

Open

“Open your eyes.”

His brain may be foggy, but the words come through clear. The voice saying them sounds pained. Pleading. He knows that voice—it’s comforting—but he’s far too confused to place it. He’s far too confused to place much of anything.

Now someone is retching. And crying. Sounds he’s all too familiar with. He must be in Afghanistan; something must have gone wrong. Which means the chaos is coming. He should prepare.

He doesn’t want to prepare. He wants to sleep.

There’s arguing now, hushed but angry. Machines are beeping. Have they been beeping the whole time? Why is he so tired?

He hears the soft click of a door opening and closing. Is he alone now?

No, there’s another voice. Familiar. Not the slightest bit comforting.

“Do wake up, Dr. Watson. He won’t survive if you don’t.” A pause. “Forgive me the double negative.”

Another click. He knows he’s alone now.

He sleeps.

Day 2 here.

[gregorovitch-adler]

Confessions

John gazed at Sherlock from across the table as they had dinner together at home.

Mariana had left for Spain this morning, because Christmas was just around the corner.

Sherlock and John had set up the Christmas tree together -- with all the decorations and everything -- and were just waiting for the Christmas Day to come.

The kitchen was dimly lit, and the table was surprisingly clean today.

John had been wanting to say something to Sherlock for a long time now. Talk about his feelings for him, specifically.

Ever since the two of them started their crime-solving journey, by solving the case of 'The Illustrious Client' together, Sherlock and John became quite close.

Over the course of time, John had fallen in love.

Who wouldn't? And no, this question was not just rhetoric. It was rather a challenge from John to everyone out there.

Anyone who got the opportunity to live with a guy like Sherlock -- lively, enthusiastic about almost anything the world had to offer, brilliant, kind, charming, and beautiful -- would not have it in them to resist him. Of this, John was absolutely certain.

John tried to bring himself back to the present moment and picked at his food on the plate with his spoon.

"It's not going to eat itself, Watson."

John looked up at Sherlock from his plate, and he was taken aback by the intensity with which Sherlock was looking at him, too, now.

Could it be that he too...?

John shook his head and sighed before finally starting to eat. "Yeah, of course." John sat straight and let out a fake laugh. "You're right."

"You're not here. Not mentally, at least," Sherlock declared. He leaned over the table and dropped his deep voice to a whisper. "Where are you?" he asked in a mock-scandalous tone.

That was it, John thought. He could not contain himself anymore. It was the season of confessions, after all. Or something like that. "Sherlock, I've been meaning to tell you something. This has been on my mind for a while now."

Sherlock's face became guarded. He looked down at his plate. "Really? Because I also want to tell you something."

John put down his spoon and held his breath. "Oh? Go on, then. You first."

Sherlock looked up at John through his long lashes with his big, brown eyes filled with an emotion John couldn't quite put his finger on.

"I wanted to tell you that... that when you sometimes sleep in after a long case, I come upstairs, over to your room, and I stand in the doorway to watch you sleep for a few moments."

John's heartbeat picked up speed, and he flushed up at Sherlock's words. "Why - why's that?" There it was -- his classic stutter, every time a situation like this came up.

Sherlock's eyes then hinted at some mischief. John did not miss Sherlock's subtle smirk either. "Because you snore so much. I think we really need to take you to a sleep clinic sometime." Sherlock bit his bottom lip, probably to resisting an urge to burst out laughing.

John rolled his eyes. "Alright, whatever. I'm going upstairs." He placed his hands on the table and made to get up and leave.

Sherlock dropped his silverware on his plate and grabbed John by both of his wrists, making him stay where he was seated. "Okay, okay. That's clearly not what you want to talk about right now. Tell me what it is."

"Promise me you won't laugh it off, even if you don't like what I'm about to say to you." John turned his wrists to hold Sherlock's hands in his own. He tried to appear dead serious.

Sherlock's face changed from looking amused to quite earnest. "I promise." He squeezed John's hands in reassurance.

"We've become quite close since we started solving crimes together, haven't we? So much has changed since then."

Sherlock gave him a silent nod.

"From me finding you really annoying in the beginning because of your late night violin playing sessions, among loads of other things, to..."

"To?" Sherlock demanded. His voice became hoarse.

John gazed into Sherlock's eyes some more, trying to gather enough courage to spit it out already. He inhaled deeply.

"To me now having come to a point where I can't imagine the rest of my life without you. To a point where I feel so scared when I don't see you around at home in the mornings for whatever reason." John swallowed. "Sherlock, I would feel so lost if you were to leave me at some point in the future, as though I were stranded in a desert. Completely alone."

Sherlock was staring at John with his lips parted. His face was still unreadable. "Why's that?"

"Can't you deduce it?" John said with his brow furrowed. "You do have enough data at this point!"

Sherlock shook his head. "I want to hear you say it. I need you to spell it out. You know I'm not the best person when it comes to reading between the lines." His voice was shaking.

John nodded in understanding. "I love you."

There, he said it. It was all out now.

John squared his shoulders, feeling oddly confident in that moment. Whatever the consequences, he felt ready to face them all.

"I - me too." Sherlock visibly swallowed. "Everything you said just now -- I feel the same way."

Sherlock looked like he wanted to say more, so much more, but he was not in the state to be more eloquent than that just yet.

John didn't need him to.

John smiled and leaned in towards Sherlock over the table.

Sherlock met him halfway and tilted his face to kiss John on the mouth. His lips went from hesitant to intense to desperate in a matter of seconds.

John mirrored all those feelings and much more. He grabbed Sherlock's face and began to pour all the passion and love he had been feeling for this man into the kiss.

They broke off the kiss after a while, feeling out of breath.

Sherlock and John locked eyes with each other and exchanged a knowing smile.

They continued to have dinner with their fingers intertwined.

Both of them were aware of the unspoken promise waiting for them—the rest of the night, perhaps even the rest of their lives.

**

Prompt: Confessions by @fluff-cember

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

[whispersfrom221b]

Sherlock: Hrmpf…

John: What's wrong?

Sherlock: Nothing.

John: You sound like my mum. Spill.

Sherlock: You're dating Molly.

John: She just asked me—

Sherlock: She asked you and now you're dating her.

John: I'm not—

Sherlock: If I'd have known that all it needs is to ask you, I'd have done that.

John: Are you saying you'd want to date me?

Sherlock: Obviously.

John: How is it obvious?

Sherlock: I haven't destroyed any of your jumpers in months. And I ask before I use your laptop. Occasionally.

John: Ah, yes. The universal signs of attraction.

Sherlock: Indeed.

John: Listen, Sherlock. Molly asked me if I'd accompany her to her sister's wedding this weekend. That's all.

Sherlock: This means you wouldn't date me if I asked?

John: I didn't say that.

Sherlock: So you'd date me.

John: I would. If you ask me.

[jolieblack]

A big, enormous shoutout to all you lovely people who have risen to @calaisreno ’s May Prompts 2024 challenge and are providing us with a ton of great fic at the moment, some of you every single frigging day.

👑 I hereby crown you all Queens* of May! 👑

*Queens, Kings, Monarch or whatever gendered or non-gendered term you prefer.

@lisbeth-kk , @bs2sjh , @thalialurksalot, @keirgreeneyes, @deelaundry , @jrow , @weeesi , @raina-at , @a-victorian-girl, @calaisreno , @strawberrywinter4 , @totallysilvergirl , @meetinginsamarra , @starkraivennemad , @copperplatebeech , @friday411

Here’s a selection of my favourite ficlets for this first week - and I mean it when I say I had real trouble limiting it to seven. ALL the entries are worth reading, I've not been disappointed by a single one and I'm totally in awe of the amount of talent that is still being dedicated to the BBC Sherlock fandom.

Day 7 - Calm - by @weeesi

Day 7 - Calm - by @raina-at

Day 5 - Ecosystem - by @copperplatebeech

Day 5 - Awkward - by @thegildedbee

Day 2 - Box - by @thegildedbee

Day 1 - Open - by @raina-at

And I’m also absolutely captivated by @jrow 's serialised May Prompts Angst Fest that starts here.

Keep the good stuff coming, everyone! ✨

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 15 - First Kiss

Watching the scenery in silence was less tedious than Sherlock expected. But he couldn’t talk to John. Everything John did lately only made him nervous, or suspicious, or depressed… Or happy. Most of the things made him happy, really. But sitting in silence felt wrong too. There had been too much silence between them for the wrong reasons and he didn't like it.

“You asked me about me… earlier and I…” He cleared his throat. “I suppose I also struggle with sharing personal information.”

John turned his head, browsed raised. “You think?”

Sherlock gave an awkward smile back. “I suppose I felt, as you did, that I didn’t want you to be… nervous about moving in with me… so I…” He tilted his head trying to think how to say things properly. “Like you, John, I’m not one to share things with the world. About myself. But I think, perhaps, it then became too hard… to share them with you. I left it too long. We had an understanding and that was enough.”

John nodded. “It is enough, Sherlock. We don’t have to know everything about each other to be best friends. Knowing each other’s sexual interests changes nothing about our case work together or our daily lives. It’s irrelevant.”

Irrelevant.

“Neither of us seems built for long term things. Perhaps we’re each an acquired taste. Like a fine liquor,” John suggested. “Not meant for everyone.”

Sherlock chuckled. “Perhaps you’re right. Or perhaps we have incredibly high standards.”

John scoffed. “You’ve been observing my dating. I wouldn’t say that’s the problem, would you?”

Sherlock couldn’t help laughing at the remark. “No, perhaps not. Not those women. But, perhaps, in looking for the right one, John. The person you would settle down for? None of your usual women are marriage material, obviously.”

“Oh, I think most women our age think only of marriage and snagging a man to get them babies. Maybe that’s the actual problem.”

“Do you want that? Marriage? Children?” Sherlock asked, trying to hide all self interest from his expression. 

John looked at Sherlock a little surprised. “You’ve really started delving for answers haven’t you?” he teased. “The amount of information you’ve pulled from me in the space of a day is… ridiculous.”

“Well?” Sherlock asked expectantly, not to be deterred.

John sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve not really thought about it. Maybe once. I had a long term thing... once. A long time ago. In med school. I thought…maybe…” John’s eyes drifted off, his thoughts far away for a moment. “That was the only time I discussed kids and marriages. Alex,” John offered with a smile.”

“Alex?” Sherlock accepted the name like it was delicate cargo. John was sharing real information now. “And was she interested in those things too?” he asked.

John shook his head. “In the end, things were too complicated.” He looked out the window to the scenery, clearly uncomfortable.

“Well, that’s a shame. She missed out on how great you are now,” Sherlock offered. There was a pain in his chest at the idea that John had built a serious life with someone that he never spoke about, that could have been 'the one' big thing for him. Was that why he was so guarded now?

“Too old for kids now,” John scoffed, keeping his eyes fixed outside. “Could you imagine the chaos?” he tried to make it sound flippant, joking, but it fell flat and sounded bitter. 

Sherlock reached out and put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, John.”

“Not your doing. Sometimes life sends us in new directions. I flew into a war zone to move on from that one and… well you’ve seen what I’ve done with my life since,” John said with a grimace. “But I met you because of all of that. It led me to here.”

Sherlock sat in silence. He really had opened some wounds on John which were telling, fascinating. He wanted to know more but he needed to be careful not to push too hard. After his pep talk with his brother he had been so eager to rush home and just blurt everything out. But instead, he was going to have to treat John like case work. Like a delicate puzzle that needed solving, unwinding, to find the way in.

“So. No children. But a contented life with someone?” Sherlock probed. “Surely you still hope for that?”

“Isn’t that what we already have?” John asked. He turned his head to look at Sherlock and it was clear his eyes were red-rimmed. The topic had upset him.

Sherlock’s stomach sank. “John—“ He should stop this now. It wasn't worth upsetting John over.

“Well, it’s true. We have the work. And our friendship. It’s a good life, Sherlock. It’s certainly the happiest I’ve been in a long time and precious little makes me happy these days, as you know.” He huffed and crossed his arms. “Maybe for some people... that’s all we get. And it’s okay. I am content. I've made peace with it.”

Sherlock swallowed hard and was rendered speechless. Unintentionally, they had chosen one another and while Sherlock secretly wanted more, it was nice to know John felt that way, at least.  John returned his gaze to the scenery and Sherlock picked up his phone to scroll on it in silence, to leave him with his thoughts. 

John’s voice interrupted him quite a while later. He had obviously needed time to think and process.

“Did you ever? With anyone? You know, make plans and all that?” John asked awkwardly. 

Sherlock huffed. “No. You think you’re insufferable? Then what am I?”

“Oi, I don’t think I ever used the word insufferable… for me at least,” John teased, nudging Sherlock gently with his shoulder.

Sherlock couldn’t help smiling at that. “Fair point,” he said. No, John wasn’t the insufferable one at all. 

“Did you want to? Ever settle down?” John asked.

The idea of settling down had never even crossed Sherlock’s mind. The question surprised him. Oh, he knew it was a ritual people performed. He’d attended weddings, admittedly more of them as a detective checking a dead body than as a guest which really said something about the institution - at least in Sherlock’s mind. But he had never given any of it much thought. Making friends or attempting to date had been so uncomfortable that he never thought beyond that. Until John.

“Only once,” Sherlock said gently, looking at his lap. If he was going to get through this he needed to just say it all and not look up. Just power through. “I know I’m difficult. Most people find me difficult and I struggled with that for a long time. And then I found the drugs and I didn’t have to worry about anyone but myself for a while. I was a selfish mess and I needed no one. But then there was a light. A light came into my life that changed everything. A strong, kind, caring being who made everything else seem unimportant. All the people who hadn’t understood me before didn’t matter and it was as if a path forward finally lit up before me. It all made sense.” He stopped and fidgeted with his hands.  Keep going, he willed himself.

“The thing is, John, after all this time, I’ve realised… I don’t need anything else, anyone else. Like you, I’m content with how things are. You at Baker Street. Working together on cases, and just… carrying on in… what do they call it? Domesticated bliss, I suppose? And I know you’re uncomfortable working out how you fit in with your… identity or whatever you want to call it. So I’m not saying this to complicate that. But Mycroft - I know, I know, I shouldn’t listen to him but he is prone to the occasional wisdom - anyway, he suggested that I just talk to you. We’re best friends. So I am just talking to you. I’m just telling you what’s in my head, or in my heart, as it were. And you can do with that, what you will. The fact is, I… for some time now, I… have thought that I would very much like to… ask you… That is, I wondered, if perhaps, you might… have dinner with me? I mean, I know we eat dinner together all the time. That’s not what I mean, obviously. I mean, really have dinner. As in, a date. I’m asking you on a date John.” Sherlock was terrified to turn his head, to look at John’s reaction. What in heaven’s name would he think of it all? At least he hadn’t run yet. He was still sitting there.

Using all his willpower, he turned his head only to find John Watson sleeping. Sitting upright, arms still crossed, his neck tilted in the most uncomfortable looking position. He was absolutely still.

Sherlock sighed and then chuckled to himself. Of course. Of course he would have missed all of that.

He let out another heavy sigh of resignation. He lifted his arm up and over John’s head to gently nudge him, so his head fell onto Sherlock’s waiting shoulder. He left his arm there, curved around John's shoulder to support his friend. Perhaps it was for the best that he didn't hear. John said he was content. Why rush things? He already had John Watson in every other way. Maybe that would simply need to be enough.

He looked down at John’s light hair just resting on his dark woollen coat. His arms had uncrossed as he tilted, and one of his hands had fallen onto Sherlock's thigh which was all Sherlock could look at now. He could hear John’s gentle, steady breathing and it felt so perfect. 

“This can be enough,” he whispered to himself and he tilted his head down and placed a kiss on the top of John’s head. “This can be enough.”

@lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @221beloved @safedistancefrombeingsmart 

@givemesherbet-blog-blog @naefelldaurk @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @peanitbear 

@starlitkeys @lumilama @yorkiepug @talkativeanxiousturtle @kettykika78 

@kittenmadnessandtea @whatnext2020 @egregiously-chuffed @chriscalledmesweetie @catlock-holmes

@battledress @kholkate @randomquadballpun @little-owls-things @daltongraham 

@sillygirlsmindpalace @oetkb12 @odditiesandeverything @johnlockficclub @rainstarboii @bheadhe

@hospitableasacactus @wssh13 @br-nz @solarmama-plantsareneat @givemesherbet-blog-blog

@dw91165 @pileofstardust2106 @moonkeller @surprisinglyokay @r4venlyn 

@therealalexisamess-blog @e-b1838 @rhasima @salmonsown @tropelovingpainter 

@westandforships @fuck-off-watson-rp @notjustamumj @melodious-me

[iheardyou]

[Headcanon / prompt / just an idea to be used in a fic]

What if...

John and Sherlock are on a crime scene, a house in a busy side of town.

John is outside. He is having a panic attack while Sherlock is still inside.

Crowd is forming around John, who is now suffocating.

This is when Sherlock just get out of the house, sees the crowd.

He briefly stops when he sees John, then runs towards him.

"John, please look at me."

No answer, just two worried eyes searching his.

Sherlock places his hands on John's temples. Breathes with John and that, more that everything that have been tried by the crowd, helps.

Tagging some beautiful writers that can be interested

@discordantwords @weeesi @calaisreno

[topsyturvy-turtely]

turtely's OTP challenge!

now on AO3! (tumblr link)

read the (slightly improved) 7th part here:

summary: When Mrs. Hudson passes away, the unusual family of three is devastated. Sherlock shuts off, Rosie cries every day and John is desperately trying to keep it together for their sake.

Until one day, Rosie asks for "Lock", and the great detective shows a talent John wasn't aware of yet.

General Audience, 2112 Words. Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Slash, Parent!lock, Minor Character Death, it's sad i am sorry, but it is REEEEAAALLLLY sweet, i promise you won't regret reading this. (i mean you never know but i tried my best to make this rude prompt into something wholesome still)

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 @sunshineinyourmind

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Hi, can I ask for some Sherlock Holmes with a side of spanking and cuddles?

Title: The Paganini Problem

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader

Fandom: Enola Holmes series

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: Being Sherlock’s wife proves to be difficult when a case stumps him. For @princessphilly, I hope this works!!

Warnings: female!masturbation, spanking, softDom!Sherlock

A/N: I listened to “24 Caprices for Solo Violin, Op. 1, MS 25: No. 24 in A Minor” while writing this, you do not have to. But it is quite good if you like violin and suspenseful music. Also, Enola correctly guesses that Paganini is Sherlock’s favorite composer in the first Enola Holmes film, so like, research! Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist 

The sounds of violin wafted through 221B Baker Street. You loved to hear Sherlock play most days. But, today was different. This was day three of a Paganini marathon, which could only mean one thing.

He was stumped on a case. 

A case he refused to talk to you about. No, he could only converse with his beloved violin about it. However, that’s not how you see it. No. 

Your perception? He decided to play instead of paying attention to you. Being the brat that you are, you are determined to make him regard your presence.

You don your tightest bodice and skirt, the deep sapphire one that Sherlock purchased for you as a gift when he asked you to move into Baker Street. He specifically had it tailored to your measurements, showing off your ample bosom and child-bearing hips. 

You make your way from your shared bedroom into the drawing room where Sherlock is playing. His violin is tucked between his chin and shoulder. His left hand bows at a speed that makes the messy curls on his head dance along to the music. His right hand holds the violin at the neck so delicately, it’s almost loving.

You step around several stacks of papers, narrowly missing a tower of books. You remind yourself to have that talk again with Sherlock about the difference between organization and chaos. 

You finally make it to the chair next to his music stand, his eyes never leaving the sheet music. You make sure to sit down in a way that makes a squeak that Sherlock has commented on many a time. He’s actually shown you how to sit so that said squeak does not occur. You remarked that he could just get rid of the chair, to which he replied that you can sit elsewhere if you’re going to complain.

No reaction. 

You seethe, watching as he continues with 24 Caprices. You kick over the music stand and the sheets dance gracefully to the floor.

Nothing.

He simply closes his eyes and plays from memory. He plays it perfectly, of course. Paganini is his favorite composer, after all. He would know it forward and backward.

You were growing impatient, running out of options for how to get this man’s attention. Until it hit you. The idea was just ridiculous enough to work. It would be depravity in polite society, sure. But clever enough to get him to at least acknowledge your presence. And that would be enough.

You get up from the chair and make your way over to the chaise lounge. Arranging a few pillows to rest your head upon, you then lie down and pull your skirt up enough to get to your drawers. You pull them down and toss them out of the way, Sherlock being none the wiser as he continues playing.

You let your hand wander down to your folds, already slick with the frustration of being untouched for days. You allow yourself time to tease, playing with your swollen bud before dipping lower to enter a single finger within yourself. A sigh escapes your lips as you explore your inner walls. As another finger joins the first, Sherlock’s name falls from your lips.

Sherlock’s sense of smell is what pulls him out of his hyperfocus. He smells your arousal as he hears his name in the air. In an instant, his fixation becomes all about you.

He places down his violin and bow next to the fallen music stand, not putting it right-side up. Not bothering to be quiet, as your moans now fill the room louder than his playing did, he stalks over to you and clears his throat loudly.

Your hand stills and you open one eye looking up at your husband. The look on his face of disappointment is enough to cause heat to flare behind your cheeks. Then, his face changes to that of…impatience?

“Well? Are you going to finish then? Or must I intervene?” Sherlock’s words have a bite to them, and you can’t say you’re surprised. Well, you are stunned he is offering to help.

At least you were under the impression that he is offering to help. And that is why he is the expert detective and you are...well, not.

Before you can ask for assistance, Sherlock is lifting you off the chaise and throws you over his shoulder. He takes you into the bedroom and set you down on your feet before sitting on the edge of the bed. 

He points to you and beckons you with a curved finger in a ‘come hither’ motion. You begin to sit next to him, but he blocks your path.

“I don’t believe bad girls get to sit down next to Sir. Over my knee with yourself, girl. You’re going to practice your counting. And don’t make me repeat myself.” Sherlock’s voice is stern and you involuntarily gulp before settling your middle across his lap.

Sherlock pulls up your skirt so it rests along your back and the cool air of the room produces gooseflesh along your bare bottom and legs. No sooner do you register that feeling does the first blow land. You grunt as Sherlock’s hand grazes the skin of your left cheek.

“One, Sir!” You cry out, surprised at the white-hot heat of the smack.

“Good girl,” he praises.

He raises his hand again. He waits until your ass relaxes and brings down his hand upon your right cheek. This time harder than the first.

“Two, Sir!” You shout, the sting radiating through you.

“Good girl, I think you deserve one more though,” Sherlock informs you and you nod, “Use your words, girl. Do you deserve another?”

“Yes, Sir, I deserve another,” you whimper, clenching your thighs to try and gain some sort of friction.

“I wholeheartedly agree, my dear,” he laughs, punctuating his sentiment with one last swat to your left cheek.

“Three, Sir!” You gasp, clutching onto Sherlock’s pant leg as his hand finds its way between your legs to find you soaked.

“That’s my good girl, look how soaked you are for me. I bet you’re right on the edge. All you need is one…last…push,” Sherlock plunges two fingers into your sodden cunt and expertly finds your inner bundle of nerves. He massages it while praising you for taking your punishment so well. “You’ve been so good for me, my love. You take all the attention you need, girl.”

Before long, you are clenching around Sherlock’s fingers and he is working you through your orgasm with his skilled fingers. You send thanks to the heavens for marrying a man who understands the female anatomy. 

As you come down, Sherlock pulls down your skirt. He pulls a pillow from the bed for you to sit on as he turns you around in his lap. He kisses your forehead and presses your head down to lean on his shoulder, resting his head upon yours. 

“Now, my dear little one. Care to explain what that little show was for?” His voice is calm as his arms wrap around you, holding you flush to him as he rocks a bit back and forth.

“I hate it when you’re stuck on a case, you don’t pay any attention to your wife, my love,” You don’t attempt to hide the sorrow in your voice.

“You’re so right. I’ve neglected my dearest. She even had to turn to her own ministrations in the wake of my absence,” he pulls back and looks down at you, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “As frustrating as a case may be, it is no excuse to ignore you. I promise you, my love, it will not happen again. You have my word.”

“Thank you, Sherlock,” you twirl your finger around a curl of his hair and watch it spring back, “I love you.”

“And I love you, dear one. Now, shall we solve this case, Mrs. Holmes?”

“That we shall, Mr. Holmes.”

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz  😁 Also, if you want to be removed from tags, lemme know!