#Sherlock Holmes drabble

[princessaxoxo]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。Masterlist 　ﾟ･｡🌷͙֒

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 💌

𝘣𝘶𝘺 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 ˚₊‧꒰ა 𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ✿ 𝘢𝘰3 ✿ 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥 ✿ 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘰𝘯

𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 - 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘥-𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘣𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘴. 𝘪 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘰3, 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳.

𝘔𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 18+ 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺.

𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘪 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞, 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬. 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

𝓗𝓮𝓷𝓻𝔂 𝓒𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓵𝓵

𝓖𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓵𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓡𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓪

𝓜𝓲𝓴𝓮

𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓚𝓮𝓷𝓽

𝓐𝓾𝓰𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓦𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓮𝓻

𝓢𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓶𝓮𝓼

𝓦𝓪𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓵

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓮𝓼 𝓑𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓷

𝓒𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓢𝔂𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷

𝓚𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓷/𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓰𝓲 𝓚𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓯𝓯

𝒻𝓁𝓊𝒻𝒻: ꕤ 𝓈𝓂𝓊𝓉: 🍒 𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈𝓉: ❦

#henry cavill #masterlist #oneshot #short story #henry cavill fandom #drabbles #mini series #geralt of rivia #clark kent #sherlock holmes #mike hellraiser #geralt x reader #mike x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #clark kent x reader #henry cavill x reader #first post #walter marshall x you #henry cavill smut #fluff #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill sherlock holmes #august walker #night hunter #angst #smutty #clark kent x you #clark kent smut #charles brandon romance #charles brandon fanfiction

[j-eryewrites]

Stressed Out

MAIN MASTER LIST

Word Count: 1.k <

Warnings: Not really any, kind of ooc Sherlock (but who cares)

Author's Note: Finally feeling like I have time to write and that the writing gods have been in my favor. This was a fun little one-shot to write. While I'm still trying to get back into my writing groove, this one shot definitely helped get some of the dust off my creative writing brain. So, thank you @my-dear-sweet-melody for requesting this one. I hope you enjoy it!

You weren’t sure how you’d been doing it: managing the day-to-day lives of two people who also happened to be good friends of yours, assisting Sherlock with cases, seeing things you’d never thought you’d see in your lifetime (both good and bad), juggling relationships, your own well-being and health, and time to relax. Although it seemed like you had less and less time to do the things concerning yourself. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but when you were thrust into the world of Sherlock Holmes, more important things came into play.

Sherlock was the first to notice how the stress was weighing on you. It was a total shock when he casually announced your current state to John. The moment the words of concern were uttered from Sherlock’s lips, the puzzle in John’s mind had been completed. With the help of Mrs. Hudson, the two men began to conspire to make life easier for their dear friend.

At first, Sherlock’s conscious decision to wash his dishes and put them away in the correct cabinets struck you as odd. Sherlock’s mind was usually too busy for such arbitrary tasks, and such magnificent brain power couldn’t be wasted on such a thing. Then came the tidiness of his experiments. You could swear you hadn’t seen a stray finger or eyeball dissolving in vinegar for quite some time.

When you had asked Sherlock about his new behavior, he shrugged it off with some wildly strange research idea he had come up with. You tried to follow along, but your brain began to hurt after a moment, so you opted to believe him instead.

Meanwhile, John took extra care to charge his and Sherlock’s devices. He knew no matter how brilliant Sherlock was, the man seemingly ceased to forget that computers, phones, and the lot needed to be charged via a charging cord and port. On the other hand, Mrs. Hudson made the note to prepare extra tea and biscuits to save yourself the trouble of doing that for Sherlock and John.

Now, you felt no need to question John and Mrs.Hudson’s new behavior. It was in character for them to do small things like that. However, you continued to question Sherlock; he grew tired of it. Why couldn’t you see that he cared for you, too? That maybe he cared a bit more for you than he should. He was growing weary of the excuses he made to your insistent questions when all he wanted to do was throw them up and tell you the truth. Truthfully, the truth was something he insisted upon. Sherlock always found it one way or another. Yet, he could only fib when you had a new query about his altered behavior. Was it hard for you to understand that Sherlock could care? That he, too, could be human?

“Sherlock,” you called as you sat on the couch, pouring over the current case. It was usually your job to organize each thing into its Sherlockian category to save Sherlock his brain power. However, when you opened the file, it had already been done. “Did I happen to organize this in my sleep?” You raised the file and peered at him. Sherlock felt his mind conjure up the latest lie. Just before it left his mouth, he paused. He got up and marched to the window, where he began to gaze out onto the street below. He couldn’t lie anymore. He had to tell you the truth.

“I organized it,” Sherlock said.

You froze. Something was seriously wrong with the man if he was now organizing his own cases. “Sherlock, you never orga–”

“Why can’t I?” Sherlock’s voice grew tense. His eyes clenched shut, all while his back was still towards you. He wouldn’t dare look at you. He knew if he saw your eyes, he’d crumble and tell you everything, but everything was what you needed to hear. Everything was what he needed to say.

“I never said you couldn’t. It’s just,” you faltered, “…strange.”

Within a moment, Sherlock whirled around. His icy blue eyes began to thaw under your gaze. “I observed you have stressed: Your trousers falling to your hips instead of hanging snuggly on your waist, the dark circles under your eyes that only grew prominent by the day, the growing urge to sleep instead of join Mrs. Hudson for the weekly watch party of the latest soap opera,” Sherlock shut his mouth. He had said too much already; he shouldn’t say more, but his lips moved again. “I wasn’t the only one who noticed, John and Mrs. Hudson, too. We devised a plan to lessen the blow of our–my constant mess.”

As Sherlock spoke, you realized his words were only the truth. You had noticed you suddenly had more time to eat a meal, spend time with your favorite landlady, who was more like a mother, go on walks in the park with John, listen to Sherlock compose his latest piece, sleep, and live life as it should be lived. Amidst Sherlock’s rambling, you whispered, “Why?”

“Because we–because I care you for,” Sherlock choked.

Slowly, you remove yourself from the comfort of the couch cushions and find a place in front of Sherlock. You watch as Sherlock shudders from the touch of your hand on his cheek. “Thank you,” you said as a smile grew. “Thank you for caring when I forgot to take care of myself. Although…”

Sherlock frowned.

“…while I appreciate the sentiment of you organizing your own cases, John charging the computers, and Mrs. Hudson always preparing tea, I’d still like to be able to do my job. After all, the great Sherlock Holmes still needs to use his brain power to solve cases and save the day.”

Sherlock could only smile at that response for he'd give you anything you'd ask. "Of course. Of course, Y/N."

____

Comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list! Please comment or reblog if you can; I want to hear from you.

Tag list:

@bartokthealbinobat

@astudyinlaura

@sherlockstrangewolf

@yourleastfavoriteguyinthechair

@biggerthancalli13

@themartiansdaughter

@sunsumonner 

@silversword7000

@starlightaurorab

@my-dear-sweet-melody

@neroarrow83

@khaleesihavilliard

@agentxx92

@myszur-blog

@halestorm0707

_____

#bbc sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock bbc #i am sherlocked #sherlock x you #reader insert #john watson #fanfic #mrs hudson #use of y/n #sherlock holmes x you #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc!sherlock #221b baker street #maybe ooc #sherlock cares #sherlock fanfic #sherlockbbc #doctor john waston #sherlock fandom #mrs hudson is the best land lady #comfort fic #one shot #drabble #thanks for the support #thank you

[softestqueeen]

let the light in

pairing: sherlock holmes x reader

summary: After a particularly frustrating case, all the consulting detective needs, is closeness.

warnings: just pure teeth rotting fluff

wordcount: 904 words

a/n: just a cute little one shot with my favourite detective. the name is inspired by the song “let the light in” by Lana Del Rey, cuz I feel like it fits the vibe I was going for in the end. and now enjoy <3

His last case was one of the hardest he ever had the solve. Even though Sherlock Holmes loves the thrill of a case that really challenges him, it also frustrates him to no end if he can’t find the culprit the moment, he has all the evidence.

This case had involved multiple chases with no success, countless sleepless nights, and even more nights that he didn’t get to spend with you.

Countless nights sitting in his chair thinking, while he could hear your soft snores from down the hall.

He missed you even though he saw you every day. He saw you when you told him to eat something, when you told him to take a break, when you told him to go to sleep. But it wasn’t the same when he couldn’t really spend some quality time with you. When he couldn’t have deep conversations with you, when he couldn’t look at you, when he couldn’t hold you and really feel you.

To say he ached for you was putting it lightly.

The start of your relationship was not easy. Suddenly Sherlock had someone he really trusted. Someone who always listened to him and always cared about him. Someone who would wait and be there for him when he came home at night. Those were not things that were easy for him to get used to, especially since he had never really loved someone.

But for you he tried, and, in the end, it worked out. Still sometimes your relationship has to come second. He doesn’t like that, but he has to get his cases done, especially since he doesn’t take on that many cases anymore. He found a new thrill.

You.

When Sherlock finally entered your shared flat in the middle of the night, he didn’t expect you to be up.

But here you were, sitting in his chair, wearing on of his robes and reading what seems to be one of your way too cheesy romcoms. In the background a jazz record could be heard, one of your favourites. He couldn’t even begin to explain how relieved he was to see you.

But unfortunately, the one he thing Sherlock Holmes was horrible at asking for was the one thing he now desperately needed most.

All he wanted to do right now was hold you close and hear your voice. He wanted to really feel you with his whole being and not just feel your hand grazing his when handing him a cuppa.

He lightly knocked on the door, not wanting to startle you. You looked up from your book and immediately saw your boyfriend looking back at you. A smile now adorned your face, which caused a warm feeling to spread through the detective.

“Case solved?”, was the first question you could voice, even though a hundred more were currently going through your mind. You really hoped it was solved, because that would mean you could finally spend some time with your boyfriend again.

“Finally!”, he answered, a smile now starting to appear on his face too.

At hearing his answer, you immediately got up and hugged him for what felt like the first time in weeks, even though it could have been only a week at most.

You nuzzled into his chest while he tucked his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the smell of your body wash. 

“Why are you still up, my love?” It was not a question of importance but more one to break the silence and to finally hear more of your voice.

“Well, I couldn’t sleep and thought I would wait up for you. I’ve missed you.” Your words made Sherlock think. These days he often considered your feelings, especially when he’s doing something that could make you mad. But he never considered that not only did he miss you, but you also missed him the same. He was not the only one deprived of your touch, you couldn’t touch him either.

He unconsciously pulled you closer while he got lost in his thoughts.

“How about we go to bed, huh?” Your voice immediately put him back to reality.

“Theres nothing, I want more right now.”, he answered truthfully. You pulled away from him and took his hand in yours, already on the way to your shared bedroom.

You were already wearing your pyjamas, only wearing one of Sherlocks dressing gowns on top of them.

While you got under the covers Sherlock took off his suit before carefully placing it on a nearby chair. He also got into his pyjamas before joining you under the covers.

He immediately took a hold of your waist before pulling you into him. You were now both laying on your sides, legs intertwined, facing each other. You had one of your hands on his chest, feeling his steady and now relaxed heartbeat, while your other hand slowly drew shapes on his back.

All the while Sherlock just held you close, happy to have you close to him again.

While holding you, he wondered how he went on with life before he met you. Before you were there for him, held him close and showed him what love felt like, or that love could feel so incredibly good. But when he kissed you now, just before you fell asleep in his arms, he knew that he doesn’t need to worry about having to live without you ever again.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this little drabble, please consider giving me feedback and leaving some notes (likes, comments, reposts). please also consider checking out my ao3!

taglist: @silvermagnolias @milywatermelon

#love #fluff #ao3 #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock bbc #sherlock fandom #sherlock fanfic #bbc sherlock #reader insert #no y/n #drabble #one shot #x reader #benedict cumberbatch #benedict cucumber

[cas-kingdom]

Ok… Don’t judge quality since I still feel horrible, but Sherlock and “Don’t start something you can’t finish”?

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Enola warned you with a piercing look that Sherlock fancied only the two of you could convey and understand.

You shot a particular look back, one that spoke a thousand words at once without you even needing to open your mouth. “Oh,” you said with a hint of amusement, “I’m perfectly capable of finishing this Aren’t I, Sherlock?”

“The truth of it often keeps me up at night,” Sherlock admitted with a mock sigh. He sat back in his seat and let a small smile tug at his lips as you suddenly looked victorious in many ways other than your obviously self-satisfied smirk.

“Well, then,” Enola said, smoothing the skirt of her dress as she crossed one leg over the other, “go ahead.”

The carriage ride from London to the Holmes’ holiday home in the Cotswolds made for excellent intellectual games, the three of you had decided. While Enola enjoyed the activities which catered to her genetic predisposition for crime-solving and decoding, something Sherlock was all too happy to partake in, you preferred putting your mind to good use within the world of literary heroes and riddle-solving, something Sherlock seemed happier to partake in, much to Enola’s exasperation. Though there was very little time in age between you and Enola, your differences, mostly how much your mental stimulation benefitted from opposing things, often amazed your brothers, Mycroft included. 

You had an hour or so left in the carriage, and you had sat dutifully through an anagram game Enola liked to play, but you had turned the tables now, insisting Shakespeare make his entrance. Enola knew you adored Shakespeare’s work and could quote many of his plays, but she also knew that Sherlock was much the same, albeit more experienced. She doubted you could best your brother in a game of wits such as this, but then, she had been away from her siblings for some time, living alone in London and finding her own path, and thus was mostly unaware of the bond you and Sherlock had revitalised between you. 

“You start,” you said, directing your question at Sherlock, who turned to gaze out the window, humming under his breath.

“‘Frailty, thy name is woman’,” he began confidently, looking back to you. Your eyes narrowed slightly in competition.

“Hamlet. ‘Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.’”

“The Tempest. ‘If music be the food of love play on’.”

It continued as such, both of you shooting Shakespearean quotes at each other and answering with the play it had come from. You seemed to have forgotten Enola was there, instead staring pointedly at each other, attempting to reign the champion.

Enola busied herself staring out the window, which was in fact nothing short of boring, until the competition behind her took a spin. You had turned swiftly to tossing Shakespearean insults at each other, something she figured happened a lot, considering how adept you seemed to be at it.

She was pushed a little unceremoniously into the side of the carriage as you were pulled towards Sherlock, his hands suddenly—uncharacteristically, if Enola had anything to say for it, though, again, she seemed to not be privy to your relationship over the past year or so—tickling. You still spewed your insults, shooting them out your mouth alongside your uproarious laughter, and Enola, despite her raised brows and gaping mouth, couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank God Mycroft isn’t here,” was all she could say.

Enola Masterpost

send me the first sentence of a fanfic and i’ll write the next five, except i don’t know when to stop writing so i guarantee there’ll be more than five

#enola holmes #enola #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #enola holmes x reader #enola x reader #enola x sherlock #sherlock x enola #reader #reader fic #sister reader #sister!reader #teen reader #teen!reader #mine #baby fic #drabble

[gregorovitch-adler]

Lilac

(Now on AO3)

"I like the bridesmaids in purple," said John.

"Lilac," Sherlock corrected, a sense of dread filling up in his heart. Again.

Sherlock had ensured his face to seem blank from the outside.

Sherlock was painfully aware of the symbolism. He would know. He was the one who had been doing most of the wedding planning.

Lilac: a flower used to symbolise a first love.

And Sherlock's first love? John Watson.

Being in love with his flatmate for as long as he could remember, Sherlock couldn't do anything but respect John's decision to marry someone else.

Because that's what people do when they are in love, don't they? Respect their beloved's boundaries and let them go?

Sherlock had chosen to do the same. If John had made a decision, then so had he.

If Sherlock could do one thing, it was to use subtle symbolic hints to express his feelings for John. This was a safe zone. No one would ever know whether the symbolism was intentional.

John would be the last person to think in that direction.

The fact that Sherlock couldn't say no to John when he had asked Sherlock to be the best man, despite pining for him for years, said a lot about Sherlock's feelings for John, anyway. Anyone with an elementary level of observational skills would be able to see that.

Sherlock was doing everything he could to ensure the wedding day to go as smooth as possible.

If he had slipped up by using a very specific shade of purple for the outfit of the bridesmaids, thereby showing his hand, nobody could blame him for that.

»»——⍟——««»»——⍟——««»»——⍟——««　　

Prompt Purple by @notjustamumj

Thanks for the tag, @topsyturvy-turtely!

Tagging- @jawnn-watson , @peanitbear , etc.

#johnlock #ficlet #drabble #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #sherlock x john #sherlock headcanon #sherlockian #writing prompts #fic prompts #the sign of three #angst

[jackofacetrades]

Ok, I've finally read The Empty House and omg it's so cute??! All the little touches, Holmes intensity, WATSON FAINTING??! But I'm sorry, their reunion wasn't nearly enough feels I had to write this short missing scene, I couldn't help myself... So here's what Watson couldn't write because he was out of it:

Watson moved his head to look at the cabinet behind him. Holmes hurried to remove wig, fake nose and wiskers while straightening his back to his full height, ready to surprise Watson. It felt so good to see him again, to be with him again. He had miss him very much in these three years he spent in hiding. But now, everything was coming to an end and he could finish it all with Watson. He felt blessed. When his friend turned back, Holmes was standing smiling at him across his study table.

But it was apparently more than what Watson could take. After standing up with an utterly shocked expression, his eyes revulsed and he was promptly falling in on himself to Holmes' horror. He rushed to catch his friend before he could hit his head on the chair behind him and gently eased him to the floor, cupping his head. Holmes was mildly panicking and chastising himself for his unthoughtful prank. Why did he have to appear to him in such a dramatic maner? Of course Watson would be shocked! —Though, he didn't think he would be so much as to faint ... Stupid! He was so stupid!— He reached for the collar and promptly opened it one-handed, his hand shaking slightly. He then searched his pockets for his flask of brandy and, still cupping his friend's head, he gently poured some drops on the slightly parted lips. He didn't dare breath until Watson's lips moved slightly and tasted the beverage. He felt a wave of relief. Rationnally, he knew that Watson hadn't been in any danger but for the first time ever his mind had been overwhelmed by his emotions.

Before Watson came fully back to his senses, he put one arm under his knees, firmly gripped his shoulders and heaved him back on the chair he was previously sitted on. Holmes dusted his friend's suit a bit, brushed his hair back and took a shot out of his flask, to clear his mind and try to regain a bit of composure, before the fog in Watson's eyes was finally blinked away.

“My dear Watson,” his voice quivering a bit, “I owe you a thousand apologies. I had no idea that you would be so affected.”

#letters from watson #the empty house #sherlock holmes #fanfic #fanfiction #missing scene #sherlock pov #drabble #my posts #my writing

[cawcawkarasu]

Whereabouts

*post time skip

“Mr. Holmes, do you know where my brother is?” Louis asked.

“Hmm,” Sherlock thought for a moment and answered, “Albert is in St. James park.”

“Wait, I mean Brother William,” Louis’ eyes narrowed into a predatory accusatory glare, “…and why would you know about Brother Albert’s whereabouts?”

“Oops,” Sherlock swallowed.

#half drabble #a hint of sherbert #louis james moriarty #sherlock holmes (ynm) #yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #憂国のモリアーテ��

[topsyturvy-turtely]

Fluffbruary with turtely

Day 28

[day 27]

prompts: wreck | veil | wind by fluffbruary <3

fandom: BBC Sherlock, works with others too.

A/N: i'll catch up on every day i missed. thank you to all my readers for your support throughout this beautiful project. every one of my fluffbruary contributions will be uploaded to "That Stuff Called Fluff" on Ao3! special thanks of course to @fluffbruary for hosting this fluff party!

♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡

something between a drabble and a 221b

Picnic blanket, crossed legs, warm sun.

I smile at him. He smiles back. I sigh. Happiness.

"Can you imagine we've been such a wreck only a few years ago?"

"Hm. Everything we went through got us here, so I'm not complaining."

“But don't you wish it would have been easier, sometimes? Without all this pain and uncertainty?”

A pause. Then, with confidence, “No, I don't.”

I don't believe it. “How? Why? Why not?”

“If our problems and difficult path did anything, it brought us closer together. Couples that never faced any difficulties… they always live with the infamous pink glasses on their noses. And break when something slightly tragic happens. We lifted that treacherous veil. We work through hard situations.”

I let myself fall back onto the blanket. My eyes following the clouds, that are drifting by slowly.

“That's a sweet way to think about it.” I say and take his hand, squeeze it.

The wind is blowing through his hair. Another smile. A shared kiss. The knowledge: You don't know happiness if you don't know sadness. But right now, right that moment... simple bliss.

♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡

A/N: originally wanted to write a drabble - didn't work. thought i'd change it into a 221b... didn't work either. here we are with this whatever lol. THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT! (follow for more johnlock content written by a turtle 😜🐢)

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#turtely writes #fluffbruary with turtely #fluffbruary 2023 #fluffbruary #bbc sherlock #johnlock #happy about reblogs 🥰 #sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #sth between a drabble and a 221b #:)

[i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end]

So, I'm sure John uses a very commonplace type of aftershave (because he doesn't strike me as the type to spend much thought or money on that as long as it smells alright).

So imagine, at some point during his two years away, Sherlock will weave through a crowd, probably following a suspect or scouting a suspicious place, and this smell will hit him and his body will whirl around before he even fully comprehends, because no and John and it can't be and he will gasp a little and how did John find out and this is impossible - and then his brain will catch up and Sherlock will realize that all of this is, indeed, impossible, and he will stare into the face of a boring, unimportant, loathsome stranger and Sherlock will suddenly feel sick to his stomach.

And he will hate himself because John following him would have been the worst possible case. But Sherlock is still devastatingly disappointed and feels bereft of a hope he didn't even know he had at all, and he does miss him and suddenly he feels desperately, achingly empty when he really should be glad that John is safely back in London.

And he will interrupt his mission for the day because otherwise he might be sick in public place, and he will certainly attract the attention of the wrong people. And he will silently retreat to his bolthole and make a mental note to get John a new aftershave if Sherlock is ever so lucky to see him again or, alternatively, pour all of John's aftershave into the sink in 221b without his consent if necessary.

And then, months, years later, Sherlock will see John again. But John will no longer live at 221b, and when Sherlock comes close enough to smell his aftershave, John will already wear a new one and a new moustache, and then everything will go very wrong and Sherlock will very much concentrate to never think about John's aftershave ever again.

#headcanon #does this count as a #ficlet #? #okay I counted and it's 333 words so I guess it goes as a #drabble #me trying to write something in English #and why on earth did I think the will future was a good tense to try this #sherlock holmes #john watson #trf #teh #the reichenbach fall #the empty hearse #johnlock #sherlock bbc #bbc sherlock #sherlock fic #my writing

[amyreadsandstresses]

Waxing Prometheus - Amy Reads and Stresses

Read on AO3

Sherlock thinks of himself as Icarus, beautiful and foolish, rugged ambition and the desire to burn. Flown too close to the sun, they say as they watch him fall, wings ripped appart. Cocaine made a good substitute for crisped feathers. Nothing felt quite like flying as being high. Nothing felt quite as burning as falling of a roof.

Moriarty was made of wax was the fire was the sun.

Sherlock was the angel, fallen, demonic and useless and flightless.

John thinks of Sherlock as Prometheus. Beutiful, bitter, brilliance made out of spite and superiority and the most powerful of loves Earth had ever known. Moriarty was death, was rot was the eagle on a cliff.

Sherlock was real fire, gifted as a secret to mortal foolish soldier John. Sherlock Holmes, real Prometheus, inventor of sacrifice in the name of Watson. The source of John's faith, larger than life and creator of men. Heaven knew John had been but a shell, empty and cracked, before Sherlock William Scott Holmes.

At dawn, beneath bed sheets, sweating and devoted to each other, John would whisper prayers on Sherlock's lips, speaking words of Hercules and menacles broken by his own hands. The detective would be silent, basking. Come morning he would discard the mantle of hero in John's name and grow back his waxy, broken wings.

Sherlock knew himself a fallen dreamer.

John knew him as his creator.

On the other side of the city, Mycroft knew names didn't matter. Sherlock, once blessed, had fallen for a mortal man. His gifts belonged to Earth now. Olympus would forget him, in time.

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#bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #Waxing Prometheus #johnlock fanfic #johnlock #my fics #sherlock holmes #john watson #amyreadsandstresses #drabble

[sherholm]

c1 mycroft is infesting the brain sm rn i want to write pages upon pages on how he was only 20ish y/o when he had to find a way to keep his family together after the death of his father and the mental deterioration of his mother, whilst keeping her invasive doctor in check, all the while trying to protect and offer a stable life to his brother... though still knowing the entire time that he didn’t do good enough and he’s always been alone in this struggle!

#sherlock holmes chapter one #the cabinet of curiosities cutscene.... #mycroft is TRYING #making video edits and drabbles isn't enough i need more mycroft content!!! #frogwares

[temporary-dysphoria]

Prompts/Fic Requests Open

My askbox is currently open for prompts/fic requests for oneshots in following fandoms and pairings.

Lupin III (OT4 and all variations thereof, Jigen/Zenigata, Lupin/Albert, Loopzoop)

Good Omens (Crowley/Aziraphale)

LOTR (Gigolas, Bagginshield)

Cowboy Bebop (Spike/Jet, Spike/Faye, Spike/Jet/Faye)

Sherlock Holmes (Original Canon, BBC adaptation, or movieverse) - (Holmes/Watson (any canon) Mycroft/Lestrade (BBC adaptation))

Finished length will be 500 - 1k words minimum. Prompts will be filled on an energy level/time basis, but an attempt will be made to fill all requests.

My writing specialties are:

Whump

Hurt/Comfort

Darkfic

Angst (with and without happy endings)

but will happily also write romance, PWP, mild fluff, getting together scenes etc

When your prompt/request is filled a link will be posted to the AO3.

Hard will not writes:

-A/B/O, kidfic, OC inserts, reader inserts

Help me flex my writing muscles and in return you get a fun read. Win/win for all parties.

#fic requests #fic prompts #drabble requests #prompt requests #lupin iii #good omens #LOTR #Cowboy Bebop #Sherlock #Sherlock Holmes #morgan writes fic #okay to reblog

[iris-warlock]

lil drabble thing | you can also find this here on Ao3

(might post more stories like this one on this blog again, we'll see what happens)

   The burn in his throat is all he can–and all he wants to–focus on. The sound of the toilet flushing away his regret is drowned out by the pounding pain in his head. The room spins endlessly and he’s trying his best to find his balance, wherever it has gone. He presses his hands against the cool wall of his bathroom. This is always the worst part, he thinks to himself.

   Slowly, Mycroft’s  surroundings begin to take a normal shape, and he finds it safe enough for him to let go of the wall. He takes a deep breath and slowly walks his usual route to the kitchen, which is obviously a mess. It hadn’t been this bad in months. He supposes everything has caught up with him. Hopefully, this is simply rock bottom.

   Or it’s getting even worse.

   He wishes deeply against that. He knows that people are becoming wary of his eating habits as they are now. He doesn’t need to make it more obvious. He disposes of the empty and half empty containers scattered around his kitchen. Although no one is expected to come to his house at this moment, he still cleans everything quickly and vigorously, wiping away any evidence of what he had done.   He is not sure how long it takes him to finish cleaning everything, including the bathroom, but by that time he has grown tired and his throat still burns. It’s another part of his routine to drink water in order to ease his throat, however little the difference is.

   He makes his way to the large window next to the fireplace, staring outside. The stars glow an innocent silver, scattered throughout the pitch black sky. Grey clouds move slowly, covering the vibrant moon. They’re cumulus clouds, the name originating from the Latin word of the same name, meaning “pile” or “heap.” There’s a waning gibbous moon tonight. Those appear once a month, the period between a full moon and a half moon.

   His throat hurts.

   He slowly walks up the stairs to his bedroom, his home silent, apart from his own footsteps. Once in his bedroom, he turns off the lights and gets dressed for bed. It is once he’s buried in his blankets, once his day is completely and finally over, that he cries. First, the tears are silent, almost falling only because they have to. But he cries, and he cries, quiet tears turning into loud sobs. Everything collapses in his mind, all his mind can do is focus on everything that has gone wrong, everything that is going wrong. Everything he needs to do, everyone he has wronged, everything…

   There’s a moment when he can’t breathe, but the thoughts– after torturing him– eventually subside. For now. He lets his eyes close, and begs for his mind to rest.

   His throat still hurts.

#bbc sherlock #mycroft holmes #tw: ed #tw: eating disorder #drabble

[oldshrewsburyian]

Number 60, Granada Holmes, please.

"A day at the zoo," I pronounced, "is what you need.”

For some moments he was silent, except for making a noise around his pipe stem that could have signified ennui, contempt, or both. He had not looked up from the newspaper; I knew better than to be taken in.

“A day,” I repeated, “at the zoo.” Holmes looked over at me. “Sunshine and light exercise will do you good after the Gruner affair. And besides,” I continued hastily, “fine days are rare enough in a London autumn.”

Holmes sighed. And then, unexpectedly, he smiled at me. “Impeccably reasoned, Watson.”

#have a drabble! #sherlock holmes #my FIRST detection obsession

[mr-nauseam]

The organisation to which he had dedicated his life had disappeared. The man to whom he had sworn allegiance was dead. And in front of him stood the killer covered in his own blood. Trembling.

A tantalising sight for a tiger, a perfect moment for a man who had lost everything, and Holmes' worst mistake.

#sherlock holmes #john watson #sebastian moran #the final problem #IDK #I just want the bots let me alone #drabble #fanfic

[cawcawkarasu]

Stories

It was quite the surprise to have Louis, and not anybody else, came to his room.

“To what do I owe this pleasant visit?” Sherlock leaned to the desk. His sharp eyes caught the nervousness of the youngest Moriarty brothers.

“Um,” Louis sounded hesitant, “If you don’t mind…”

The lines on Louis’ forehead deepened. The unmatched gesture excited the detective so much he couldn’t hold himself to get closer, “Don’t be shy, just ask away!” He said with mirth.

“Can you-,” Louis looked away, “Tell the stories of William-niisan?”

So that was it, Sherlock’s grin went so wide. “With pleasure.”

#drabble #yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #憂国のモリアーティ #louis james moriarty #sherlock holmes (ynm)