Sherlock fandom.
Zealous Movement
John hates it, Sherlock loves it.
“Too many people. Crowded. Hateful,” John grumbles.
“Yes, to the amount, no to latter. It’s fascinating,” Sherlock tells him.
John huffs and holds on to the sleeve of Sherlock’s coat when the train comes rushing into the Embankment station.
“Don’t even try to get rid of me,” John hisses when Sherlock tries to wrestle his arm free from John’s iron grip.
Sherlock looks at John and realises that perspiration is coating John’s forehead, and his eyes have something reminiscent of panic about them. He moves closer to John, interlacing their fingers together.
“I’m sorry,” Sherlock murmurs in John’s ear.
John relaxes and exhales shakily when they walk through the doors to the carriage. Ever since Sherlock came back from the dead, John’s been dreading being apart from him, particularly when they’re taking the tube. In a flash, Sherlock may vanish again, deliberately or not, but John has a hard time coping. He tries, but today is not a good day for it.
“Come here,” Sherlock says, manhandling John to stand beside the opposite doors.
He crowds in on John, shielding him from the other passengers with the Belstaff, creating a cocoon for the two of them. John holds on to the lapels of the great coat and takes steadying breaths to calm himself. Sherlock’s low murmurings help too.
“I’m here, John. Safe. Home. With you. Always. I love you.”
John’s on the brink of tears and leans his forehead against Sherlock’s chest, listening to the steady heartbeats.
“Alive. Safe. Home,” John whispers to himself.
The train is loud and fast, racing through the tunnels of London’s underground. Steady, like heartbeats. Reliable when there’s no strikes or other obstacles.
John understands why Sherlock loves it. After all, he’s always on the move himself. Even when he’s lying on the sofa at Baker Street, his brain is running the halls of his mind palace.
Before the Fall, John thought nothing of taking the tube. He did it all the time, though he did prefer a proper train. The speed felt slower, and there wasn’t a rush to get off and change lines. And you were mostly overground. Things to look at. Less crowded.
Screeching brakes bring John back from his reverie. He’s still enveloped in Sherlock’s embrace, his smell, his even breathing, his reassuring heartbeats.
“This is our stop,” Sherlock says softly. “Ready?”
John looks up into cerulean eyes that are concerned, worried. He cradles Sherlock’s cheek and nods.
“Let’s do this,” John says confidently. “How hard can it be?”
“Well, if anyone would know, it’d be you, John. You did after all invade Afghanistan,” Sherlock quips and kisses John’s palm.
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imagine composing and playing the waltz for your best friend's wedding, with whom you have had a homoerotic relationship,,,,,, sherlock holmes our bravest soldier out there
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Forget Me Not by Calais Reno
John gives up memories in order to save Sherlock.
Now the blue eye is focused on him, the brown one wandering. “Look at me, John. What happens in the mind is more than reason. You will not save him with cold, hard facts. Saving him will require your imagination.”
For just a second, both eyes line up. The world stills around him. He’s never felt so focused.
Thank you for reading and reblogging!
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Do you watch much tv? If so, what’s your favourite show or movie? My personal favourite show is Taskmaster.
I don't.
I've noticed that whenever I watch something with John, the outcomes seem entirely too predictable. It's as if the element of surprise evaporates the moment we start watching together. @consultjohnwatson tends to become rather irritable during those moments.
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