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gregorovitch-adler · 7 months

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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 .

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes/john watson #sherlock x john #angst #pining john watson #asib #canon compliant #30 days of sherlock september 2023 #prompt: beloved #sherlockian #sherlock headcanon #ficlet #new ficlet #fic writing

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lisbeth-kk · 7 months

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Just one text away

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50385514

The day Sherlock died, John tossed his phone in a nearby bin. He didn't need it anymore. The only person he ever texted or occasionally rang was dead. When the phone is returned to him almost two years later, a new kind of grief emerges.

Today's prompt by @onesmallfamily was phone.

@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @topsyturvy-turtely @phoenix27884 @a-victorian-girl @gregorovitchworld @helloliriels @safedistancefrombeingsmart @peanitbear

#30 days of sherlock september 2023 #sherlock fandom #john watson #sherlock #sherlock fanfic #ao3 fanfic #johnlock #phone

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phanfictioncatalogue · 2 years

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‘slice of life’ fics (2) Masterlist

Links Last Checked: September 9th, 2023

part one

a day in this life (ao3) - CapriciousCrab

Summary: They're a million miles away from the life they had once led. Penthouses and fame have given way to a small cabin and basic necessities but they're still them. Still Dan and Phil, as it should always ever be.

a day in their life (sunshine on christmas) (ao3) - yoongioss

Summary: “It’s around 9:30 a.m. on December 7th and I’m feeling very festive.” With a grin, Phil shifts to show the mini Christmas tree sitting on the table next to his bed. “Sadly, this is the only tree we have up as of now.”

A Day In The Life of Married Dan And Phil (ao3) - umathurmanjustwatchedmehavesex

Summary: It’s Autumn 2018 and, after having both come out soon after they tied the knot, Phil uploads a Day In The Life of them celebrating their first anniversary.

Feat: pancakes, Napstablook, Legend of Zelda, a romantic dinner, whether or not Sherlock is still relevant in 2018, other youtubers, a musical, prank calling, two dorks in love

A Forever Home (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: Moving is a stressful process but it’s worth it in the end.

a room full of my safest sounds (ao3) - snsk

Summary: day five: domestic fluff

Boomer Karen (ao3) - strawberrysunflower

Summary: “What do they mean, I look like a Boomer Karen?”

Phil reflects on getting older.

Bub (ao3) - Fictropes

Summary: It’s a normal Saturday night when Dan lets it slip.

I can't help falling in love with you (again) (ao3) - Findus26

Summary: "Do you ever miss that feeling of being newly in love? Like, those first date jitters? Butterflies, if you will?"

It's 2020, the world is falling apart and Dan can't help thinking back to October 2009 when everything was new and exciting. Phil finds a way to recreate the feeling

in the kitchen (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: love is about finding people to be in the kitchen with

Kiss-Me-Quick (ao3) - strawberrysunflower

Summary: “I should be lounging out on a beach right now.”

“You can lounge out on a beach! Look, the Golden Mile’s down there. Only watch out for donkeys. And stray Stella cans.”

It’s probably not the greatest advertisement of the town, Phil realises. Who needs Portugal when you can come to Costa Del Blackpool instead?

scratch bark bite (oh, love me, i lied) (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: Music & Drama teacher Dan Howell has a well-known rivalry with his coworker, English teacher Phil Lester.

An unforeseen event flips everything Dan thought he knew about Phil and himself on its head. Slowly but surely, the grudge withers, and the two of them cross the line between enemy and friend. But what will happen when their true intents and feelings get revealed? And was what they had ever really a rivalry? Was it even mutual?

Spooky Happenings (ao3) - thatsthephan

Summary: Picture it; a Fantastic Foursome Day in the Life Video-camping edition. How much trouble could this trip cause? You’d be surprised.

The Cuddle Sutra (ao3) - strawberrysunflower

Summary: It’s taken the better part of ten years for Dan and Phil to figure out the best position, but they’re pretty sure that by now they’ve perfected the art of the cuddle.

this is the place (where i don't feel lost) (ao3) - commonemergency

Summary: He loved it here. He loved being with Phil and his family. He loved not being on the internet or thinking about what people are saying online, he loved the walks and the talks and the freeness that being here brought. Or Dan spends Christmas and New Years Eve with the Lesters.

Uncle Dan (ao3) - Ragopamplina

Summary: Dan is a Lester. He knows it, but still, he enjoys little reminders.

swiftly go the days (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: Dan moves quietly through the morning.

we are messes (that's why we work so well together) (ao3) - keeplovinanyway

Summary: Dan and Phil go to VidCon and miss their flight. Because they're just talented like that.

What's Left Unspoken (ao3) - DontForgetToPanic

Summary:

So he imagines what Sunday dinners could be like, how his parents’ kitchen table is made for four but maybe they can make room for five, because kitchen tables are for families and maybe their family seats five.

But they’ve never been invited to a Sunday dinner, so Dan stops wondering. ~*~ Where Dan wishes he wasn't a stranger to his own family, Phil and Dan support each other, people don't always need words to speak, and there's no such thing as being saved.

Featuring: puns, family roadtrips, a wedding, and the inability to express emotions.

#phanfictioncatalogue #phanfiction #phanfic #phan #masterlists #sliceoflife #sliceoflife masterlist

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gregorovitch-adler · 8 months

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Adoration

Sherlock was pacing up and down; a body lying supine in a dark, abandoned building, not more than a few feet away.

Male, fifties (well, fifty-five to be specific but these idiot officers wouldn't believe him), average build, and a redhead.

The building was a work-in-progress project, and the man was one of the construction workers, which was obvious enough from his fingertips.

Whether his death was accidental or deliberate - that was the question.

The case was a seven, so Sherlock had to leave his flat.

Sherlock stopped pacing abruptly and opened his eyes to look around. John. Where was John? He absolutely needed to find John! Who would he discuss the case with, otherwise? Not with the officers, certainly. Especially since Lestrade was on leave today.

"Where's John?" he demanded to a new officer. Desmond? Daniel? Dennis? He couldn't remember. Not that it mattered.

"Oh, Dr Watson didn't come to the crime scene," the officer said nervously. "You came here alone, remember?"

Sherlock closed his eyes in frustration and exhaled. Of course. John was sick in the morning. He'd wanted to come with Sherlock but apparently, he couldn't even step out of the bedroom.

Who was Sherlock going to do the brainstorming with, now? He started pacing again. This was unacceptable. So unfair and intolerable.

Just when Sherlock was about to begin to fire his deductions, he felt his trousers pocket vibrate. He took out his phone from his trousers to unlock it. It was a text from John.

I adore you. Whatever you're doing or thinking at the moment is extraordinary.

Sherlock's foot-tapping stopped as he kept staring at the text for a few seconds. He was blinking rapidly and felt heated up around his neck and the tips of his ears.

Sherlock allowed a small smile at the text as he put his phone back. Then his smile widened a little, as he became somewhat calm to be able to explain his deductions effectively to the officers.

***

Sherlock September Challenge

Prompt adoration from @onesmallfamily

Tags: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @gaylilsherlock @lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @clueless-mp4 @missdeliadili @lookingforlifeoutthere @peanitbear @a-victorian-girl @calaisreno

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock x john #sherlock holmes/john watson #sherlockian #sherlock headcanon #ficlet #new ficlet #fluff #pov: sherlock holmes #30 days of sherlock september 2023 #prompt: adoration

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gregorovitch-adler · 7 months

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Nobody Cares

"No, no, no. No!" Crowley yelled as he witnessed the humans nail Jesus to the cross. He turned to look at Aziraphale with a desperate look on his face. "Can you not make them stop?"

Aziraphale shook his head with his brows furrowed and a sinking feeling in his heart. "I am not the authority here in Jerusalem. I'm only meant to follow what the people upstairs say," he said and swallowed.

"You mean these are Heaven's orders? Why? What did he even do?" Crowley's desperation had been turned into anger, going by his tone.

"Not Heaven's orders, per se," the Angel said, closing his eyes and raising his eyebrows, in an attempt at reasoning, "but they have explicitly told me not to interfere with the humans' job."

Aziraphale swallowed after realising how equally horrible that sounded. But what was he to do? He was obeying the rules, was that not good? That was what Angels were expected to do, weren't they? Good, at all times?

When Crowley stared at him incredulously, Aziraphale cleared his throat. "I'm expected to be here and ensure the job carries on without any interference."

"By 'job' you mean brutally hammering nails into someone's body against a cross, after stripping them in front of everyone?" Crowley asked in a low voice and lowered his glasses. The piercing yellow eyes never failed to make the Angel's heart race.

Aziraphale broke eye contact after a long moment and stared at the ground as all three crosses had been hoisted, and the humans were waiting to go home. At that moment, he wondered the difference between a human and a demon in terms of moral standpoints for the first time.

"What did he do?" Crowley asked again.

Aziraphale kept staring at the ground. "Questioned too much."

That made the Demon shut up. When Aziraphale looked up at him, Crowley swallowed visibly and nodded.

Later that night, Crowley and Aziraphale found themselves amid a tribal celebration in Western Europe.

Distant from all the humans socialising with each other, they sat down on the ground, leaning against a tree, observing their surroundings.

Crowley was sitting right next to Aziraphale with a drink in his hand. Aziraphale sighed, staring ahead; still upset with what they had to witness during the daytime.

"Was it the idea of your lot?" asked Aziraphale, looking at the Demon, marvelling at the bright moonlight that illuminated his handsome face.

No matter how much he trusted Crowley, he knew no one else in Hell with even an ounce of compassion.

Crowley sipped from his goblet. "What, capital punishment of an innocent individual? In a way which was that brutally creative and humiliating? I think you give too much credit to the demons' intellect." He paused for a second to look at Aziraphale out of the corner of his eye. "Only humans are capable of this, after all."

Aziraphale shuddered internally and broke his gaze from Crowley's face. "It went too far this time, don't you think?"

"Yes, well." Crowley cleared his throat. "Not that Heaven is any better."

"Crowley -"

"Humanity had only begun to heal because of his teachings, angel! At least in Israel. Heaven could have done something to stop that. And they did not."

Aziraphale bit his lower lip. "Now, who are we to question God's plan." He winced at his own words.

Somehow, they sounded idiotic even to himself.

Crowley let out a bitter laugh. "Or what? They'll publicly have the humans crucify us too?"

Aziraphale took a deep breath. "I didn't say that."

Crowley shrugged. "Everything is over now. Nobody cares."

Aziraphale parted his lips and tried to protest. "Crowley that's not -" he cut himself off. He could think of nothing to counter that.

A long silence fell between the two of them. Crowley kept drinking from his goblet. Just when Aziraphale decided to change their location, Crowley began to speak.

"Listen."

Aziraphale turned to look at Crowley again.

"Time and again, it's been established that when it comes to showing some basic kindness to any living creature, Heaven and Hell prove that they're the two sides of the same coin. They are both horrible places..."

Aziraphale held up his forefinger, trying to interrupt.

"...and trust me when I say that! I would know." Crowley inhaled deeply and tightened the grip on his goblet. They had locked their eyes with each other. "You and I, on the other hand, are better than that. You keep talking about the good side and the bad, and that Demons and Angels have to pick their respective ones."

Aziraphale nodded, and let Crowley continue without any further interruptions.

"I agree with that, to some extent. But you and I - I think we're different." He paused and looked at Aziraphale with expectation. "Come on, you can't deny this, can you?"

Aziraphale furrowed his brows. "I suppose, I can't. So what?"

"So, we can pick our own sides. We can be on the same side. One that's separated and free from the shackles of Heaven and Hell." Crowley reached out for Aziraphale's hand and held it in his own.

Aziraphale stared at the joint hands. He looked up at Crowley and was taken aback by the amount of pain and longing in his eyes.

Suddenly, it dawned upon him. He thought he had a faint idea of where this was going. Aziraphale entwined their fingers and squeezed Crowley's hand.

"What do you say, angel?"

"Are you saying..." he couldn't breathe.

Crowley just nodded.

Aziraphale did not know how to feel. This was just what he had wanted: to be with Crowley together forever.

But at the same time, he was an angel. This could go wrong on so many levels. Also, uniting with a demon, wouldn't that be disloyalty?

He was never taught that in Heaven. Aziraphale did not care how much his input was always neglected in Heaven by other angels. He had his duties to fulfill.

But Crowley's fingers interlocked with his, how could he let go of that?

Aziraphale swallowed. "I don't know what to say." Crowley's mouth was turned upside down. "Neither of our lots would approve of this. They'll call us traitors."

"Nobody cares, Aziraphale," said Crowley with a shaking voice. "They didn't care about us today. Then why should we?"

"We could end up in big trouble."

"Not if we're together."

"What if they give you the Holy Water?"

"After having lived with you, in that way, even for a few hours? Worth it."

Aziraphale's breath became shallow. The corners of his eyes stang. "Oh, Crowley," he said and grabbed the front of Crowley's black fabric to pull him close.

The moment their lips met, Aziraphale sighed in satisfaction. Crowley pulled away a bit to remove his glasses before placing his hands on Aziraphale's face.

Their mouths opened and moved together in a synchronised fashion, and the kiss just felt right.

This was where Aziraphale belonged - with Crowley.

They continued to kiss under the tree; bright moonlight lightening the mood. One would call it groundbreaking, give them hell - quite literally so - for being rebellious, but Aziraphale could not bring himself to care that night.

He just revelled in the warmth and softness of Crowley's lips against his with his eyes closed. Aziraphale loved the little breaths Crowley was letting out on his lips in the middle of the kisses, and he never wanted this moment to end.

***

AN: And voila! My first fic in Good Omens fandom. I enjoyed participating in this month's challenge. ☺ See you later.

Sherlock September Challenge.

Prompts Moonlight and Kiss by @onesmallfamily

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

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gregorovitch-adler · 8 months

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Romance

After Holmes had arrested Jefferson Hope, and I had had a discussion with him that I was going to publish the story in The Strand - to let everyone know who had really solved the case - Holmes had agreed.

A better explanation would be that Holmes did not care. It did not matter to him who received the credit for solving the case in the newspapers. However, it did matter to me. Very much, in fact.

In what world was it fair for the police officers at Scotland Yard to take help from Holmes to solve the case every step of the way and not even thank him publicly? It simply could not happen. Not on my watch.

After having published the story, I decided to show it to Holmes. I was quite enthusiastic about it.

However, I had not expected Holmes to react so badly.

When I brought up the conversation, whilst he was consuming his damn cocaine - with his long and thin legs stretched out on the coffee table - he shook his head ruefully.

“I glanced over it,” said he. “Honestly, I cannot congratulate you upon it. Detection is, or ought to be, an exact science, and should be treated in the same cold and unemotional manner. You have attempted to tinge it with romanticism, which produces much the same effect as if you worked a love story or an elopement into the fifth proposition of Euclid.”

“But the romance was there,” I remonstrated. “I could not tamper with the facts."

I had feared that this conversation might be going in a dangerous direction. Holmes was not insinuating the obviousness of my feelings for him - that had developed over time - was he?

Well, if he decided to spell it out, I would not hesitate to remind him about how much he had blushed after listening to my compliments about his detective work.

I could not say anything for sure, but as time passed, I had a feeling that there was something between us. A connection, of sorts. One that went beyond what a couple of flatmates usually had.

Holmes may have a habit of pretending that he preferred to be unemotional, but I was his closest friend. I lived with him. I might not be as brilliant as he was, but I could tell that he did not mean it.

"Some facts should be suppressed, or at least a just sense of proportion should be observed in treating them. The only point in the case which deserved mention was the curious analytical reasoning from effects to causes by which I succeeded in unraveling it.”

I was annoyed at this criticism of a work that had been specially designed to please him. Moreover, I was hurt to know that he would deviate this much from the truth.

Maybe I had miscalculated. Probably it was only I who felt the connection between us. Not him. I frowned at the thought and swallowed as I stopped pacing and took a seat on my armchair across from Holmes in the sitting room.

I was willing to speak up this time, though.

I inhaled deeply and held my breath as I spoke. "And why, pray tell, do you want to suppress the facts, specifically about romance? Is it because the same facts hit too close to home?"

Holmes came out of his dazed state, dropped his legs on the floor, and sat up straight with his grey eyes widened.

"What are you getting at, Watson?" asked Holmes cautiously.

"We have not been friends for that long, but for what little time I have known you, I've developed a profound respect for you and your work. There is more to it, however. I have grown to have feelings for you. Romantic feelings, in particular."

Holmes leaned forward in his chair and pinned me with an intense gaze. Fortunately, he did not try to interrupt me.

"I think that you have, too. Although I could be extremely wrong on that part, it makes little sense for you, of all people, to want to suppress the facts and events that happened for real. So, I want to know: Am I right about the real reason or not? I would certainly understand if I am completely off the mark and you do not feel the same, but I need to know."

I breathed deeply after having blurted all that out, hoping to dear Lord that I had not messed up everything and ruined our friendship.

"Oh, dear Watson," Holmes breathed. His long and thin fingers were tapping on his sinewy lap vigorously. "You are so exactly on point sometimes. Everything you said - all of it... I feel the same way."

My heart fluttered with excitement and happiness. A ridiculously wide smile spread across my face. It looked as though he wanted to say more, so I let him.

Holmes continued. "And yes, I do not wish for the whole world to know about it through your stories. I see I was a bit too harsh about it, moments ago. I apologise."

Holmes got up to make sure the door was shut and the window curtains had been drawn. They were. Holmes then walked across the room to approach me. I was still sitting, so he looked down at me with the same intensity as before.

I looked up to meet his gaze and locked my eyes with him.

He held out his pale hand to me in an offer.

My heart pounded as I took that hand and got up to meet his eye level.

His eyes were filled with longingness and pain. His brows were furrowed. "The world will never forgive us. They will never acknowledge that we are just two people in love who happen to be men."

He was right, as always. My eyes welled up as I gulped. I was still holding his hand, which felt warm and dry in mine.

"I know. Do you think this is a bad idea, then?" I tried to be prepared for the worst. 'Tried'.

Holmes placed his other hand on my waist and pulled me close. Our faces were just inches away. "I never said that, Watson. I was never the one to go with the rules, was I?"

We both shared a short laugh. Without another word, we leaned in and I captured his bottom lip with my mouth.

He made a desperate sound and we deepened the kiss with our arms wrapped around each other tightly. The dam had broken, and we were unable to let go for a whole minute.

I pulled away reluctantly. "Holmes, I-"

"Sherlock."

My ears had been aching to hear that correction. "Sherlock, I was saying that we need to deal with this in a practical way as well. I will not forgive myself if we were to be arrested because of this," I said with my brows furrowed.

"You are right," he said, holding my face in his hands.

"I suppose we would have to confine our relationship to the rooms of this flat." My heart was heavy.

My lover's ethereal grey eyes lit up with a mischievous glint in them. Christ, the effect those eyes always had on me.

"I have a plan."

Of course, he did. I was now looking at him with expectation and pride.

"You are going to have to marry a woman."

"What the deuce are you -"

"Shh." Sherlock placed a long finger on my mouth. "Just listen. That woman is a distant relative of mine. She is going to be our next client too. Her name is Mary Morstan."

I still did not get what was going on. Was he already pushing me away?

"For God's sake, do not look so heartbroken," he said and pulled my face close by my chin to press another kiss on my mouth.

"Her situation is just like ours. She has fallen in love with another woman too. Only I knew about that until now. She is in a constant state of having to look over her shoulder, trying to keep the prying eyes of this cruel world away. It occurred to me just now that if you married her, we would not have to worry about society anymore. It would be helpful for all four of us."

I sighed in relief and gave this whole thing a thought for a moment. "Excellent plan, Sherlock. This is brilliant!"

Sherlock smiled and looked down as he blushed.

"Just remember to never be on a first-name basis in public. John."

I grinned from ear to ear like an idiot, before pulling him in for a slow, drawn-out kiss again.

I knew what I had to do next. I just had to twist the facts in my next story to make it look like I was in love with Mary or whatever her name was.

Now, nobody would speculate a thing about Holmes and I, would they?

***

Sherlock September Challenge

Prompt Romance by @onesmallfamily

Tags: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @gaylilsherlock @lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @lookingforlifeoutthere @clueless-mp4 @missdeliadili @curlyjohnlock @a-victorian-girl @peanitbear @kettykika78 @calaisreno

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gregorovitch-adler · 7 months

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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 .

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gregorovitch-adler · 7 months

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Intimacy

Just when I am in the middle of my speech, I hear some sniffing in the wedding hall. I look up. Everyone is tearing up. I see some people wipe their eyes with the serviettes.

Why? Did I do something wrong? No! I had spent the whole morning writing a speech for John's wedding.

Selecting and altering the words here and there carefully, with Lestrade's help, so that I would not give myself away in a room full of two hundred guests, about my true feelings for the groom.

And now everyone is crying. I messed it up, again.

It is just like the university days. I would say something with good intention, but without any filters, and everyone would interpret it the wrong way. They would distance themselves from me eventually. I would be left alone.

I knew I was going to be left alone anyway after tonight's reception and dance. That was inevitable. I hadn't expected the isolation to come so soon, though.

Perhaps everyone had picked up on my feelings for John. I had ruined the day with a slip up somewhere.

Breathing deeply, I square my shoulders and spit everything out.

"What's wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that?" I turn to look at John, the only source of sanity in my life. "John?"

John looks up at me with tearful eyes. (No, please don't cry!)

"Did I do it wrong?" I ask again.

"Oh, Sherlock!" Mrs Hudson is tearful too.

Shit. She knew about us. Me. There was never an 'us'. She knew how I felt for John. Everyone obviously knows about my feelings now. Nobody can be so stupid.

Which means John does too, and now he is going to kick me out in the middle of the speech.

John screws his eyes shut and opens them again as he gets up from his seat.

"No, you didn't. Come here," he says and pulls me close before wrapping his arms around my back.

A huge round of applause erupts in the room. Everyone is cheering.

Unsure of what to do next, I awkwardly place an arm on his bicep.

John doesn't let go of me. He keeps holding on to me, and his hand goes up to curl around my nape. He holds me gently.

In this moment, I cannot help but notice the intimacy between us.

I'm not experienced in romantic relationships, but the way John keeps holding me with so many people watching, I feel even closer to him than I already did.

It's rather ironic that I feel this on his wedding day, with his wife watching us with a smile. But I can't help how I feel.

"I haven't finished yet," I say.

"Yeah; I know, I know," he replies and slowly lets me go.

I immediately feel the loss of his touch. I long for him to hold me forever.

I know this is irrational, so I pull out my phone again to continue with my best man speech.

I still have to take care of my words, should I accidentally reveal my heart in front of the man I love in public.

***

Prompt: Intimacy by @onesmallfamily

Sherlock September Challenge.

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

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gregorovitch-adler · 7 months

Text

Clock

John stifled a yawn with the back of his hand as he checked the time on the classroom clock. Half past twelve. Fifteen more minutes of this dreadful lecture till the afternoon break.

The topic going on in the class was not so hard, besides Year 13 meant you had to cover up most of the topics on your own, anyway. John could not bring himself to listen to the lecture today.

John looked around at the other students instead. To be honest, he was looking for one specific person in that room.

There he was. Sitting in the last row, but paying full attention - staring at the teacher like a hawk. John had been admiring this guy's looks - dense, black curls; sea-green eyes, and those sharp cheekbones - and his intelligence for quite some time.

The name was Sherlock Holmes.

John had not stopped thinking about that bloke ever since he'd guessed some other student's personal life correctly in an attempt to tell them off. Deduction, as he would rather call it.

He had been trying to get to know Sherlock in person and to talk to him properly - instead of just nodding in his direction as a greeting like he used to do, every morning.

John was not sure what he would even talk about. Sherlock seemed so closed off, heading straight to the library during the afternoon break every day. John did not want to make an arse of himself trying to talk to him.

He realised he was staring, so he looked away quickly and pretended to pay attention again.

After a few minutes, the bell rang, followed by the teacher muttering some words to the TA before leaving the class.

The class began to chatter, as everyone slowly made their way to leave.

Suddenly, someone across the room turned around to face Sherlock in the last row. "Hey, Holmes!"

Sherlock looked up from his book at that guy.

"Nobody gives a shit about your Tobacco ash list," he said, and his friends burst out laughing. "Seriously, quit blogging. Your website is embarrassing enough already." Another fit of laughter from his group.

John furrowed his brows and clenched his fist on his left side. Strange that he did not know much about Sherlock, but felt like standing up for him anyway.

"At least I don't have to juggle three girlfriends every single day."

A complete silence erupted among that friend group.

"What's he talking about?" asked a girl from the group to that arse. Probably one of the girlfriends.

He ignored her as he marched his way to the last row to approach Sherlock. "Say that again." The guy slammed his massive fists on the desk.

John turned around and went to that row too.

"I think he was loud and clear the first time," said John as he stood beside Sherlock, staring daggers at the other guy.

"Oh, so the fake genius has got himself a pet!" the bloke exclaimed and walked up close to John, practically towering over him.

John was waiting for one move from the side of that guy. Just one. This would all be over in a minute.

"I haven't," said Sherlock and walked close to the guy, invading his personal space. "Though I would think twice before doing anything I regret if I were you." His low voice had dropped even more to a dangerous tone. "Especially if I were sleeping with one of the teachers for a better score like you are, currently."

This made the guy back off. "You didn't - you can't possibly know that!"

"You didn't even bother changing your perfume," said Sherlock and brushed past that guy, his long legs taking him to the classroom door swiftly. He stopped short in the doorway and turned around to look at John with his eyebrows raised.

John quickly collected his things and left the room; ignoring the other guy and leaving him behind.

Sherlock and John walked out of the class, and John tried to suppress a smile.

"Where are we going?" John asked, trying to match Sherlock's pace.

"I am going to the library."

"I can join you."

"Why?"

"You can tell me about the Tobacco ash."

Sherlock stopped in the tracks to face John properly. John had slowed down as well.

Sherlock gave John an intense look as if trying to look into his soul.

John was physically unable to look away.

"In that case, I expect you to listen to every single thing I have to say. Try to react properly instead of just staring at me." The corner of his heart-shaped mouth quirked up.

John cleared his throat and nodded before looking away for a moment. "Let's go, shall we? We don't have much time."

"Come on, then," said Sherlock, and they began to walk again in the direction of the library.

Not sure why, but John felt as if his day had become at least a hundred times better.

***

Sherlock September Challenge.

Prompt Clock by @onesmallfamily

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

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock x john #sherlock holmes/john watson #30 days of sherlock september 2023 #prompt: clock #onesmallfamily #fluff #teen! lock au #secondary school au #ficlet #new ficlet #fic writing #sherlockian #sherlock headcanon #protective! john

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gregorovitch-adler · 7 months

Text

Lamp

It was one in the morning, and Sherlock could not sleep.

He decided to get his laptop on the bed to check for some new cases on his website.

John was sleeping beside him. Unbelievable. Like a dream. But true.

They had been together in a relationship for a year now, and yet, Sherlock still felt this way from time to time.

He settled down on his side of the bed and opened his laptop.

The bright light in the otherwise dark room hit the pupils of his eyes, and he winced a little for a moment.

John would always tell him to switch on the bedside lamp for balance so that Sherlock wouldn't end up with bad eyesight.

So, Sherlock stretched out his arm to switch on the lamp on his side.

Yes, this was better. He could see more clearly now.

He opened his website and began to read one of his old articles.

Within a minute, though, he became acutely aware of John lying by his side, sharing a duvet with him.

Sherlock turned to look at John's face, which was glowing because of the golden light from the lamp.

Once again, Sherlock couldn't help but marvel at John's face.

John's beautiful ash-blond hair; the forehead which was marked with frown lines. The golden lashes resting on his cheeks - gorgeous.

That mouth which Sherlock had been pining for ages, of which the corners had softened because of John's dormant state.

The cleft in his chin Sherlock secretly loved but never told him about.

Unable to believe his luck, the corners of Sherlock's mouth lifted and Sherlock was half-smiling.

He reached out to run his hands through John's soft and dense hair.

Now he wished John's eyes were open, so he could drown in those ocean-blue eyes. He would have to wait till the morning.

Suddenly, John reached out for Sherlock's hand - which was running through John's hair - and interlocked their fingers before smiling with his eyes closed.

The smile that was always capable of making Sherlock's heart flutter.

John opened his eyes and looked up at Sherlock with the same smile.

"Can't sleep?"

"Not with your soul-gazing stare," John replied with a short laugh. He continued to hold Sherlock's gaze with those mesmerizing eyes.

Sherlock's grin widened across his face as he closed his laptop to keep it on the side table, and lay down on his left to face John.

John was mirroring Sherlock's expression.

Sherlock closed the distance between them to kiss John on the mouth, who kissed him back, and it was an unexplainable bliss for Sherlock once again.

They wrapped their arms around each other to continue with the kissing to their heart's content.

John's presence in his bed, in his life, made everything exponentially better. Sleep included.

***

Sherlock September Challenge

Prompt Lamp by @onesmallfamily

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

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes/john watson #sherlock x john #ficlet #new ficlet #sherlockian #sherlock headcanon #fic writing #30 days of sherlock september 2023 #prompt: lamp #fluff #established relationship #cosy #pov: sherlock holmes

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gregorovitch-adler · 8 months

Text

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

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes/john watson #sherlock x john #ficlet #new ficlet #fic writing #30 days of sherlock september 2023 #prompt: sock #fluff #Christmas theme #pining john watson #sherlockian #sherlock headcanon

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gregorovitch-adler · 8 months

Text

Affection

When I look at him, I see the human incarnation of being alive.

When I look at him, his beauty leaves me speechless. The sea-green eyes; that mouth; the lean muscle frame; the pale, divine skin. That mouth. Those cheekbones.

When I look at him, my life doesn't feel useless anymore. Only he bothers to see me for real, to look at my strengths and capabilities. Only he bothers to look beyond the bored, old guy - the 'sitting down type'.

When I look at him, my heart, my entire being fills up with affection - no matter how pissed off I might be at him temporarily.

It's just like that when it comes to him. I can't help how I feel, whether I like it or not.

When I look at him, I think that I've met the best and the wisest man in this whole world, and nobody else could ever hold a candle to him.

John typed all this in his new blog post. He then looked up at Sherlock, who was busy with an experiment in the kitchen - his beautiful eyes peering into the microscope, as he shifted a bit on his stool and ruffled his dense black curls.

John sighed and saved the blog entry to his drafts. He would not dare to publish it online, of course.

***

Prompt Affection by @onesmallfamily for Sherlock September Challenge.

Tags: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @gaylilsherlock @lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @lookingforlifeoutthere @clueless-mp4 @missdeliadili @curlyjohnlock @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @peanitbear

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes/john watson #sherlock x john #new ficlet #ficlet #johnlock ficlet #30 days of sherlock september 2023 #prompt: affection #bittersweet #pining john watson #sherlockian #sherlock headcanon

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gregorovitch-adler · 8 months

Text

Table

[Sequel to Sock, because a lot of you asked. :)]

After taking a shower and changing into a fresh pair of clothes, John went to the kitchen and began to cook breakfast for both of them.

It was Christmas. Sherlock had woken up before him, as usual, and he was out for a walk now.

John was making a fry-up today. Sherlock liked it. They usually didn't make anything other than some toasts, but John wanted to do something special that day. Christmas was not the only reason for that.

The main reason was last night.

John smiled to himself as took out some beans from the fridge.

He had barely slept for the rest of the night after having read Sherlock's note in that sock. He had kept tossing and turning the whole time, thinking about how he would possibly navigate through this situation.

Sherlock had wished for John that Christmas. The thought was overwhelming. Unbelievable. The socks were still hanging above the fireplace.

John was grinning now, as he kept a pot of tea on the stove. Earl Grey. He just had to bring it up somehow, over breakfast. But he also did not want to scare Sherlock away.

John pursed his lips as he contemplated all the possibilities of their upcoming, completely unavoidable conversation.

John heard Sherlock's footsteps on the stairs. He quickly grabbed two mugs and poured some tea in both of them.

"Oh, you're making breakfast. Should I help?" asked Sherlock.

"No, it's fine. I'm almost done."

John turned around to take in the sight of this man again. The man he had fallen for. And somehow, the same man who had fallen for him.

Sherlock was taking off his coat, and John figured he should help him do that. Yes. That was how he was going to make his way to The Talk. Small, casual touches here and there. Nothing too much.

John took long strides to approach Sherlock and began to help him with his coat. Sherlock raised his eyebrows but remained silent and stood still as John helped him out of that garment.

John went to the kitchen again to get the whole breakfast arranged properly.

"Let me help," Sherlock said.

"Grab the plates then. I'll join you."

Sherlock arranged the kitchen table by placing a pair of plates and glasses. A few minutes later, John brought the dish and served everything on both the plates. He set the container aside and they both sat down on the table.

John had made a point to sit beside Sherlock today, instead of across from him like he usually did. They began to eat in silence.

"Mm. This is delicious," said Sherlock.

John took a deep breath and decided to cut to the chase. "I see, you ended up hanging your sock last night," he said, feigning non-chalance.

Sherlock began to cough in the middle of eating. John reached for Sherlock's back and ran his hand along it to try to soothe him.

Sherlock poured some water for himself and drank some of it. He cleared his throat. "So, you noticed."

" ’Course I did. I'm not even that ignorant." John smirked.

"Never said you were. It's just that... I didn't see any harm doing something with you. Even if it's stupid."

John smiled into his tea.

"Everyone knows that their wishes aren't really going to come true."

John placed his mug back on the table and furrowed his brows as he turned to look at Sherlock. "Sometimes, they just might," he said and gazed at Sherlock in the eye.

They had locked eyes with each other for a few seconds.

"Don't be an idiot," he said and broke the eye contact before turning to stare at his plate. "That's just false hope you're talking about. The whole world relies on that. Nobody stops to just think."

John hadn't taken his eyes off Sherlock. "I love you."

Sherlock looked up at John again with his mouth parted. The intensity in his eyes took John's breath away.

"I've been meaning to say this for a long time. Even before you went away after your staged suicide." John placed his hand on Sherlock's forearm, who was stunned.

"I've felt this way about you since the start. I just... couldn't find a way to say it. So, I'm saying it again, now: I'm in love with you."

Sherlock blinked rapidly and swallowed. "Are you really?"

John nodded. He had stopped eating.

Sherlock dropped his silverware on the plate and pulled John close to wrap his arms around John's waist.

John sighed in relief as he wrapped his arms around Sherlock's back. He pressed Sherlock close against his chest. Sherlock had buried his face in John's neck.

"I love you too. And that's exactly what I'd wished for in my note."

John felt Sherlock smile against his neck.

"I... I knew about it, actually," said John and cleared his throat. "I'd looked into your note last night," he continued sheepishly. "I know I shouldn't have, but I did it anyway. Curiosity got the better of me, I think."

"So, that's why it took you so long to go back to your room after midnight." Sherlock chuckled.

John was running his hand over Sherlock's back again. "You saw me?"

"I didn't sleep much. So, I figured you might be thirsty, which is why you went to the kitchen. But going back upstairs took you long enough." Sherlock's voice made a lot of vibrations against John's chest, making him shiver.

"Yeah, I guess it did. I'm sorry."

Sherlock pulled away a bit and held John's face in his hands delicately. "Don't be. This conversation wouldn't have happened if you hadn't looked into the note."

Without another word, John pressed his lips against Sherlock's.

Sherlock sighed and placed his hand on John's nape, as they opened their mouths to deepen the kiss.

They kept kissing each other for quite some time, unable to let go, unable to believe this was really happening.

John was being rather desperate with his kisses.

They pulled away after a bit, but continued to hold each other in their arms.

Sherlock touched his forehead with John's. "Merry Christmas, John."

"Merry Christmas, Sherlock," John breathed with his eyes closed.

"I may start to believe that Santa is real."

John laughed and pulled Sherlock close to kiss him again.

***

Sherlock September Challenge by @onesmallfamily

Prompt: Table.

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

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes/john watson #sherlock x john #sherlockian #sherlock headcanon #fluff #christmas theme #30 days of sherlock september 2023 #ficlet #new ficlet #fic writing #prompt: table #declaration of love #first kiss

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