#he knows what he’s saying is ridiculous and he knows watson knows it too
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May Prompts (12)
Day 11 here.
Family
It’s funny the degree to which having a real family shifted his priorities.
Maybe not funny, but surprising. At least to him.
His entire life, family had felt like an obligation more than anything else. His mother meant well, but she didn’t really know how to parent. His dad was a drunk arsehole. And the least said about Harry the better.
No wonder he’d ended up fighting in a war across the world.
Obligation was exactly how Mary had felt at the end. But despite his spiral after her death (and the resulting piss poor parenting that took all the worst elements from his own parents style), his love for Rosie had been fierce and unwavering. She hadn’t been an obligation, but a gift he didn’t deserve. She got him through.
Well, her and Sherlock. Once John finally let himself acknowledge that Sherlock had become like family himself, things slowly got easier. John was happier. Suddenly, family was love.
But, that can complicate things at times. Balancing the wants and needs of the two members of his family against each other and his own.
Sherlock has been here with him at the hospital all day. After Sherlock first arrived this morning, they spent about a half hour talking about what happened. The thief, the chase, John’s fall. Not surprising, really, given their choice of profession. Although perhaps a bit of a wake up call. John isn’t as young as he used to be, and now he has a child to consider.
John had also hoped to talk about the intruder and see if Sherlock had any theories. He promptly fell asleep instead. And slept for over six hours. Understandable maybe, but embarrassing all the same.
Sherlock was still there when he woke up. John is fairly certain the man never left his bedside. And for twenty minutes, they have been discussing the intruder—the evidence gathered so far (limited, much to Sherlock’s hilarious annoyance) and theories on motives. It’s wonderful and John hates to cut it short, but he knows he must.
Molly would likely agree to pick up Rosie from nursery. Mrs. Hudson too. But they’ve never done it before and, under the circumstances, that will scare Rosie. Right now her comfort takes precedence over John’s and Sherlock’s wants and needs.
Sherlock is currently ranting about security measures in the hospital. To be honest, John stopped paying attention to the details a couple minutes ago. He opens his mouth to interrupt, but is beaten to the punch when Sherlock stops abruptly and stands up.
“Sorry, John. I need to head to the nursery now. If I pick up Rosie a bit early, there will be time for a short visit here for. The timing will be perfect for her tea.” He puts on his coat. “The cafeteria has cut fruit, goldfish, yogurt, and some rather boring pasta dishes that she’ll probably like. It should be sufficient.”
John finds himself smiling broadly. “You are going to get Rosie.”
Sherlock rolls his eyes and the sight warms John’s insides. “Of course, I am getting Rosie. This will be a very stressful time for little Watson. After our visit here, I will take her home and put her to bed. Molly has agreed to spend the night at your house again so I can leave.”
“Oh yes, of course,” John says. “You’ll be wanting to get back to Baker street.”
Sherlock looks at John like he’s the biggest idiot in the world. It’s ridiculous how much John loves that look. “I’m coming back here, John. Why would I go to Baker Street?” He shakes his head and makes his way to the door. “Do sleep now, so we can continue working tonight. Gerald has managed to finagle his way on to the case, so the Yard may actually prove helpful. He will be coming by at 9 to go over what little evidence they have.” He pauses. “Don’t tell Gerald I said he might be useful.”
John chuckles. “I believe visiting hours end at 8.”
“That doesn’t apply to you,” Sherlock says with a dismissive wave. John doesn’t doubt it.
And with that, Sherlock is gone. But, soon to return with Rosie in tow. John smiles to himself. This family thing is pretty great. He doesn’t deserve her. Doesn’t deserve them.
Despite his injuries, he’s one lucky bastard.
@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @quimerasyutopias @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels
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This sort of case would have interested our old friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
Yes, indeed.
#granada holmes#inspector lestrade#john watson#granadaedit#i like this moment a lot. i like lestrade trying to lighten the conversation after bringing up holmes#bc while he's in a place where he can talk about holmes he eventually notices that watson isn't#or at least just doesn't want to be talking about holmes at this precise moment#and so he makes his silly little remark to make watson smile. and i love him for that#bc you know he doesn’t seriously think he’s good enough that it would be unusual for holmes to get the better of him#he knows what he’s saying is ridiculous and he knows watson knows it too#he even watches for watson's reaction. and i adore that little look they share at the end#and i just really like lestrade as someone who doesn't mind making a small joke at his own expense if it means cheering up a friend#thank you colin jeavons and edward hardwicke 🫶🏽#lestrade#sh#i also like lestrade talking about holmes at all because of course he does. of course he still thinks about him#they both miss him they’re both remembering him fondly in this moment#mine
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Hero AU where school counselor!Phil has to deal with… interesting students.
Namely, the three boys he sees constantly bickering in the hallways.
And slamming cars into each other on the news.
Ridiculously, none of them know who the others are.
But Phil notices the *moment* new young vigilantes start popping up. The trio’s dropping grades, spotty attendance, and injuries only confirm it.
Or, y’know. Tommy mumbling, “What would you do if you were a hero?”
Phil helps in the least obvious ways he can.
Modifying their grades to be a bit less suspicious, leaving out ice packs by his office door (easy to steal), writing late passes without a bit of resistance.
But he can only be so subtle.
“So, Red.”
Tommy’s head jerks up.
Phil almost laughs. “You’ve heard of him, huh? I figure he’s your favorite.”
Tommy shifts awkwardly in his chair — readjusting the wound Phil knows lies beneath his sweater. “Better than the fuckin’ Blade.”
Techno. Honors student. Flawless GPA. Volunteer. And vigilante.
Far closer to a villain.
“If only I could give the Blade a lecture,” Phil says, unable to stop a chuckle, and barely managing to not say, *You two have to stop beating the shit out of each other.*
Eventually, Phil gives up on subtlety & calls them all down to his office.
“So. I heard you’ve been getting into fights.”
Wilbur, drama kid — or Siren, smooth-tongued — is the first to act, eyes widening. “I’m sorry, sir?”
Then Techno. “Mr. Watson, I would *never.*”
“Then what’s that?”
Phil nods to the bruise beneath Techno’s turtleneck — from a hit Siren landed. Then, to Wilbur’s knuckles, ever so slightly battered.
And neither seem to notice a thing.
Phil pinches his brow, sighing.
“Alright. Then Tommy. Care to explain the state of your shoes?” (Burnt, melted from running through rubble the Blade had created.)
*There* it is. Techno frowns, leaning back to peek — and Tommy quickly tucks his feet beneath the chair.
“Nothing.”
“Where were you all last night?”
Every single kid tenses.
And starts rambling out excuses.
“I was— studying, of course—”
“Well, *I* was trying to get ice cream, and that bitch the Blade showed up—”
“Bitch?” Techno cries before catching himself. “I think you mean *Red* and *Siren*—”
“What the fuck?” Wilbur splutters. “Siren was trying to calm those two fuckers down—”
“Boys,” Phil says. “Look. All three of those heroes would be better *together,* right? Not fighting, not hurting each other?”
“Maybe,” Tommy finally mumbles, toeing at the floor, “but… why are we talking about heroes?”
Phil tips back in his chair, face in hands.
“Come on. Someone figure it out.”
Silence.
Phil groans. “Wilbur, you quit band two months ago. Techno, Tommy, who showed up two months ago?”
More silence.
“Uhh… I don’t know.”
“Techno,” Phil says, almost desperate. “You tutor Tommy, right? What happens after he disappears from your lessons?”
“I… go home,” Techno lies.
Phil lets out an exasperated sigh. “No, you go where *he* goes. And where’s that?”
Tommy’s eyes start to narrow.
“You like Greek shit. Like… the Blade,” he says quietly, staring at Techno. Then, at Wilbur. “And *you’re* a pretentious bastard. Like *Siren.*”
Phil raises an eyebrow, fighting a smile.
“And you’re a little shit,” Wilbur snaps, then— pales. “Like… Red?”
“*There* we go,” Phil says, letting out a sigh of relief. “Now, I have a plan. If you three work together, I truly believe that—”
It’s a shame Phil’s office is so tiny.
There’s no room for three vigilantes to sufficiently beat the shit out of each other.
.
.
.
Just the idea of the three of them curled up at Phil’s, working on homework before heading off to fight crime (together, for once).
Phil being their “man in the chair” (even if he directs them to safer areas, too worried for anything more).
And of course, the best (worst?) part of being a school counselor — the actual *counseling.*
Except it’s not about what classes to take, or bullies to avoid.
It’s holding Wilbur as he sobs after killing his first villain to protect his brothers. (Because that’s what they are, now).
It’s comforting Techno as he fails his first class, too busy with heroics to focus or study.
It’s reassuring Tommy when his brothers get hurt, always ready to defend their youngest.
And it’s crying like a father when they graduate.
It’s *loving* them like a father, his home always open to them, filled with medical supplies and bedrooms for each kid, newpaper clippings pinned proudly on the fridge.
There’s a reason the city’s strongest trio of vigilantes always protect one specific man.
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Like many fans I've always had issues with Holmes' retirement in canon... not just the separation from Watson but the fact that he always loved detective work so much and it's just hard for me to think of a non-depressing reason why he decided to retire so early in life, move away from everything he loves and focus all his time on some random new hobby that we've never heard about before. I mean even though he's a solitary guy I just have a hard time believing Holmes would actually want to move out to the middle of nowhere where he can't easily go and see concerts whenever he wants.
I know some fic writers try to make sense of it by positing that he had a transformative experience during the Hiatus where he learned how to relax and find true happiness and emotional fulfillment by living a peaceful life appreciating nature instead of doing morbid stuff like obsessing over murders and risking his life all the time, but I dunno... it's not exactly that I find this unbelievable and more that the idea of Sherlock Holmes as a zen nature lover who couldn't be truly happy until he quit being a detective just doesn't appeal to me very much lol.
So how about this alternative theory:
Holmes is sick of being famous and having people hassle him all the time for interviews/autographs/etc (THAT part I can definitely believe). Around 1903 he gets fed up and decides to leave Baker St and secretly move to another location in London, possibly even under the thin façade of an assumed name to keep the neighbors from asking too many questions. (Maybe Mrs. Hudson also retired from landladying around this time and that was part of the impetus for him to leave.) For a while he'll go back to being primarily a "consulting" detective, taking cases from a few Scotland Yard inspectors or government officials who can be trusted with his new address. He had previously banned Watson from publishing any more stories about him, precisely to avoid growing his fame even further; but now he says, "You can publish more stories, but only on the condition that you tell them I'm retired and not living in London anymore." Then Watson is like "How should I say you're spending your retirement?" and Holmes is like "IDK, keeping bees?" as like a random joke. Either that or Watson made up all the "peaceful life of a country beekeeper" stuff to twit Holmes because it's the complete opposite of what he actually enjoys.
Of course eventually people will start piecing together the truth, so Watson writes "The Lion's Mane" to further push the story (and/or as another joke, making it deliberately ridiculous to see if people will still buy it).
Eventually, sometime after the war, Holmes does retire for real; but he stays in London (maybe at still a third address, to shake off the people who managed to track him down last time). He spends his days doing chemical work and writing his book on detection and going out to concerts every night. Watson may or may not live with him, but in any case he's also still in London and they see each other all the time. The end.
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scarred from within
a/n: turtely is hurting so obviously one of my bois needs to hurt too.
a/n2.0: i am sorry.
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laying in bed. tears streaming down his cheekbones, into his ears. he hated that feeling of salt drops coming out of him and finding their way back into his body. as if they wanted to crawl back inside. as if his feelings wanted to bury themselves somewhere deep inside, where they couldn't be accessed anymore.
he hated that feeling, but he let it happen. he couldn't bring himself to care enough about his stupid tears in his poor ears to wipe them away.
feeling another tear breaking its way outside, just to hide in his hair again, sherlock thought of him. of all the sweet niceties. of appreciating words, of soft touches. the words never saying enough, the touches never lasting long enough.
his chest hurt and he thought it was ridiculous. heartache? because of an emotion? what a not-at-all-sociopathic thing to have.
and yet. here he was. aching with heartbreak.
hating mary for marrying the love of his life. hating the love of his life for having a different love of his life. love of your life - what does that even mean? sherlock sighed. he knew exactly what it meant to him: that he wanted to do everything with john. he wanted to solve crimes, and run through half of london, knowing he was right behind him. he wanted to talk with john - he always managed to bring the too many, too big, too fast thoughts into some kind of order with his simplicity. but it meant so much more to him than that. it meant that the thought of john was the only thing that kept him alive during his time in serbia. one whiplash - his imaginary john running towards him. second whiplash - john yelling his name. a third whiplash - a hand on his cheek. a fourth - imaginary john telling him to hold on. a fifth - telling him to be strong. a sixth - so he can come home to him. a seventh whiplash - so he can fix him. john would fix him, when he got home. he'd mend his wounded skin, his broken ego, his weakened mind.
that is what he believed in.
he never thought john would hit him too. he never realised his life scrambled the second he stepped over that rooftop. into the nothingness. and fell. he never realised that the mat underneath would not actually save him.
his heart had cracked back then. when he was laying on the concrete - blood all over his face, stinging his eyes, sticking in his hair - but it was john's voice, so weak, so hurt that cracked that thing in his chest. back then he thought "it is for the best. i am doing this for you. i'll come back for you and we'll be okay."
but it wasn't for the best. he had come back for john. and they were not okay.
and for the first time in his life sherlock realised what people meant when they said their heart was broken. there was no way it could ever heal from this.
sherlock felt this with such devastating certainty, it pricked new tears from his eyes. and it felt like those tears were sandpaper, scraping traces of sorrow into his face.
he almost laughed- it sounded and felt like a sob. ironic: he once thought his back was scarred, broken his skin apart, but he was still whole inside, because of john. now he felt broken from within... and his face... was scarred by tears. because of john.
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a/n: i'll write this with capital letters some time and upload it on ao3. rn this felt like it needed to be written without them.
tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed please 💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @catlock-holmes @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @baker-street-blog @macgyvershe @myladylyssa @battledress @a-victorian-girl @dreamerofthemeadow @oetkb12 @ohnoesnotagain @mutedsilence @jawnscoffee @raenchaosandcozyadashofmurder @lisbeth-kk @quickslvxrr @compact-and-beautiful
#writing is a coping mechanism#it's fine i'm fine#turtely writes#heartbreak#sherlock!whump#johnlock#bbc sherlock#sherlock#john watson#sherlock holmes#angst
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Fic Request:
John wanting to be in a relationship (no he's not gay (he might be gay for one hat wearing genius maybe~)) attends a speed dating event in which Sherlock insists on sitting next to him for so he doesn't end up with 'another terribly boring woman'.
And then Sherlock proceeds to sassily analyze each one because let's be honest he wants to be John's date.
Thank you so much for the prompt! I loved writing this story, it was so much fun <3
Pick and Choose
Fandom: Sherlock (TV)
Tags: Pining John, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Getting Together, Speed Dating, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Jealous Sherlock Holmes, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Make Out Sessions, Kissing, Neck Kissing, Humor, Fluff, Some Angst, Teacups break, Swearing
Rating: Mature
Read here on ao3.
*•*•*•*•
John wants to dig himself a hole and never come out.
Speed dating was never a strategy he thought he would have to resort to, but here he is. The venue is nice, held in one of the hotels on the high end of town, though the participation payment was surprisingly cheap, why not? The food is decent and the interior is pleasing to look at, with white curtains, windows that showcase the streets of London, round tables scattered across the spacious room, and a sparkling chandelier to top off the scenery.
There are a lot more people attending than John thought. Beautiful women are seen from across the room and now that he thinks about it, maybe this wasn’t a bad idea after all. He put on his best button-up shirt, one that matches his eyes (he thinks, at least), and though his hair didn’t wish to cooperate today, he still managed to comb it decently.
“You know you look quite ridiculous staring at the various sweets in front of you. I suggest if you’d like something, simply take it.”
The familiar baritone voice shatters John’s thoughts.
Slowly, he turns to see Sherlock looking at him impassively. John blinks in disbelief.
“What the hell are you doing here?” John demands.
“I don’t understand how you could attend such an event,” Sherlock says, dismissing John’s question. “Why do this when you could be on the case I offered?”
“I-”
“You told me you were visiting your sister. Next time don’t make a lie up on the spot, it was painfully obvious.”
“Sherlock-”
“I solved the case if you were wondering,” Sherlock says. “It was simple, too simple. I’ll have to ask Lestrade for a better one. Hardly a 5.”
“Sherlock,” John interrupts. “I’m not going to ask again. Why are you here?”
“To save you from disaster,” Sherlock tells him. “I knew you were desperate, John, but this is unnecessary.”
“Well, you scare off all my other ones,” John retorts, releasing a strenuous sigh.
“If you’re really set on getting a pathetic girlfriend, fine. But I’ll have to decide if she’s adequate.”
John stares in shock. “No… no. Why do you have to decide?”
“No offense, John, but you’re not very good at choosing your partners. They always get in the way of the Work.”
“Or maybe the Work gets in the way of them,” John offers with gritted teeth.
“Unlikely,” Sherlock murmurs, observing the venue. A buzzer sounds, a cue for everyone to get settled in their seats. “You’ll hardly know I’m here,” Sherlock promises.
John highly doubts that.
John takes a seat at a table in the back, his confidence in this situation decreasing by the second. Sherlock grabs a discarded chair and places it close to John, taking a seat. John looks at Sherlock briefly, watching the detective take off his scarf, revealing his long neck that looks quite delectable, if John’s being honest-
But of course, that’s a normal reaction. Sherlock is an attractive person and John will notice that from time to time. That doesn’t make him interested in Sherlock, that just means-
“John?” a woman’s voice asks.
John realizes he’s been staring at Sherlock for a long period of time. He feels his cheeks heat and turns to the pretty woman, who has a curious smile on her lips.
“Hi,” John greets. “How did you- oh… right. Name tag. Hah.”
“Obviously,” Sherlock mumbles and John steps on his foot for his troubles. Sherlock scowls, kicking John’s foot back in retaliation. John takes a sip of his drink to calm himself.
“Um… is this like a threesome thing?” the woman asks as she takes a seat, eyeing the two men with slight interest.
John almost chokes on his drink. “Uh- no. No, sorry. This- don’t mind him. He’s my…”
“No one in particular,” Sherlock chimes in.
“Yes. That.”
“Oh,” the woman says, nodding. “Well, I’m-”
“Charlotte,” John says, his chin jutting to her nametag with a smile. “Beautiful name.”
Charlotte blushes, giggling as she waves a hand at John bashfully. John can practically feel Sherlock roll his eyes.
“So, Charlotte, what do you do?” John asks.
“Accounting,” she responds, twirling a piece of her raven hair. “Summarizing financial transactions and all that.”
“She has two cats,” Sherlock murmurs, his voice low enough so that she’s unable to hear him.
“I quite like it,” Charlotte continues. “It’s not what I’d actually like to do, but it’s enough.”
“Protective father,” Sherlock analyzes. “He’d be a nuisance. He contacts her at least four times a day.”
“What I’d really like to do is be a flight attendant so I can get out of this fucking city and explore the world,” she says, frustration slipping into her voice. “I hate it here, actually.”
“Oh, uh- I’m sorry to hear that,” John sympathizes, shifting in his seat.
“Nicely dressed, cleaned jewelry, she’s being provided great sums of money,” Sherlock says.
“Sorry, did you say something?” Charlotte asks, eyes going to Sherlock.
Sherlock gives his signature fake smile. “Not at all.”
The buzzer goes off and Charlotte stands, huffing a breath of relief. “Anyway, it was nice to meet you, George!” she says as she rushes away.
John stares, watching her go. What just happened?
“And extremely disorganized,” Sherlock concludes.
“God, I don’t need you spitting your deductions in my ear every second,” John scolds.
“I’m assisting,” Sherlock retorts. “Quite wonderfully, if you must know.”
Another woman with blonde locks takes a seat across John. John’s about to say something before the woman holds up her hand, gesturing for him to shush.
John blinks in bewilderment, but stays silent, looking around uncomfortably.
“Her sister forced her to attend,” Sherlock murmurs. “She has no interest in you or in any men for that matter.”
John wants to ignore Sherlock, but his curiosity is piqued. “Who’s she texting, then?” John whispers.
“A coworker. She’s dedicated to her work, seeing as she has an outline of a second device in her pocket. The phone which she’s messaging on is her work device while the phone in her pocket is her personal device.” Sherlock makes a noise of disagreement. “Quite troublesome.”
The woman puts her hand down and finally looks at John, not bothering to show interest.
“Uh- hello,” John tries.
“My name is Gabriella and your name is John, hence the name tag.” She sighs irritably. “I’m sure you’re a nice man, but in all honesty, you’re not my type. Do you know when this whole thing ends?”
“Oh, I-”
“Do you?” Gabriella asks, eyes landing on Sherlock.
“An hour,” Sherlock responds.
“God, this is torture.”
“If you really didn’t wish to come, you should have just denied your sister’s pleas,” Sherlock says absentmindedly.
John shuts his eyes tight, knowing Sherlock’s forwardness never ends well. Gabriella’s jaw drops, her eyes flaring in anger.
“I beg your pardon?” she asks.
“Your sister is persistent, but her excessive guilt-tripping seems to control every aspect of your life.” Sherlock furrows his brows, his focus pointing toward the tablecloth. “My Lord, this is craft fabric. Practically plastic! How could they initiate such a dull detail when they hold this event in a sumptuous setting?”
“This is ill-mannered!” Gabriella argues.
“Quite,” Sherlock agrees. “If they can afford this hotel, they can certainly afford better fabric.”
“No, you’re assumptions are ill-mannered,” Gabriella clarifies. She huffs, scooting her chair out aggressively before stomping away.
John sighs, slumping in his chair as his hand rubs over his face.
“I never assume,” Sherlock says matter-of-factly.
“She couldn’t even sit with me for ten minutes,” John murmurs.
“It’s hardly your fault, John. She simply doesn’t know how to prioritize her life.”
The buzzer goes off again. Just as John begins to lose hope, a woman with brunette hair and freckles surrounding her nose sits across John. She smiles kindly, shaking John’s hand.
“Hello,” she greets.
“Hi, um…” John’s eyes study her name tag. “Amelia.”
“John,” she says, taking her hand back. She chuckles. “I’m going to be honest, I’m not very good at this sort of stuff.”
“Oh, I completely understand,” John says, laughing with her.
Amelia’s eyes land on Sherlock, an unsure expression settling on her face. John waves him off, which Sherlock glares at.
“Don’t mind him. Um- so, Amelia, what do you do?”
“I’m a veterinarian,” she tells him.
John nods. “That’s quite the job.”
“Oh, yes, but… I enjoy it so much,” she says, giving a genuine smile.
“I admire a person who’s dedicated to their work,” John says, a grin playing his lips.
John would be lying if he said his mind didn’t drift to Sherlock.
No. No. Sherlock is out of the question.
“And you?” Amelia asks.
“Uh- well, I was in the army. Now I work at a clinic,” John explains. "I'm a doctor."
She smiles. “How noble. Now that is very admiring.”
John is about to respond before Sherlock cuts in, “Recently separated.”
The air turns quiet. Amelia’s eyes flutter as if her mind is breaking a haze. “Sorry, what?” she questions.
“No. Uh- don’t mind him,” John tries, but Sherlock is having none of it.
“You still contact your ex-husband, obviously not over him. You came to this event to get your mind off him, meet someone new to discard the pain, but that won’t work.” Sherlock releases a long breath, showcasing his boredom. “If you’re still so attached to him, it’s probably best to stay out of another relationship. Bringing your secondary relationship problems into another relationship can cause an immense amount of conflict.”
Amelia stares at Sherlock, her pain evident. She stands and leaves without a word.
John swallows, trying to process what just occurred.
“You’re welcome,” Sherlock says. “I saved you from months of unnecessary complications.”
John’s knee bounces, agitated. John releases a humorless laugh. “Sherlock, that was extremely unkind.”
Sherlock furrows his brows. “She was still emotionally attached to her ex husband. I informed you of-”
“I don’t need your help!” John snaps, turning to Sherlock. “I don’t know why you’re being so bloody invasive in my romantic affairs, but I’m fucking sick of it, Sherlock. Go bother someone else for a change, hm? Go ruin someone else’s evenings, for Christ’s sake..”
With that, John stands and strides out of the hotel, not bothering to look back at the detective. As the cool London air hits John’s face, he hails a cabbie, getting into the vehicle. He stares out the window, trying not to think of the devastating expression on Sherlock’s face.
—
221B is quiet.
John has been up in his room for the past few hours, the events of this afternoon swirling through his head.
He’s changed out of his formal clothing, settling for a simple t-shirt and pajama bottoms. He lays in bed, staring up at the bland ceiling. Running a hand through his hair, he lets out a sigh, his thoughts coming back in full circle.
He shouldn’t have yelled at Sherlock like that. John knows Sherlock was just trying to help (though he has an odd way of showing it).
It’s endearing, really, how Sherlock’s mind works. John has always found it fascinating.
The way Sherlock can look at something and acquire a fact of a thought, not only an assumption. The way he gets excited by the strangest and most perplexing things. The way most describe him as heartless, but he sympathizes with people in his own, unique way that’s difficult to understand but incredibly captivating to watch.
The way he just sees things differently… that’s what piqued John’s interest from the start.
The way his eyes light up when he’s analyzing a situation thoroughly, picking apart every aspect with precision. The way he has highs of anticipation for a case, but afterward he takes long breaks for himself, picking a specific place to sleep for hours.
John is utterly in love.
John suspected the realization would be surprising, that it would come in heavy waves, but it comes to him in a smooth sailing stream. Of course he’s in love with Sherlock Holmes. He’s known it for the longest time. It was only denial that was blocking the thought from his mind, the constant “I’m not gay” accusations only a way to escape reality.
But no. John knows it’s time to face the reality, even if it is, for some reason, difficult. He’s in love with Sherlock Holmes.
More like, he’s obsessed with the man. Fascination doesn’t even begin to describe the appeal he has for Sherlock.
Just then, a knock sounds at the door.
John stands, his knees slightly shaky from lying down for so long. Cracking his neck, he walks to the door. He takes a deep breath and opens the door, revealing Sherlock with a cup of tea in his hands.
Sherlock looks unsure, almost like a kicked puppy.
Guilt builds up in John’s chest for handling the situation so harshly.
Sherlock clears his throat, holding up the cup. “Tea,” he says. “I um- I made you tea.”
John stares at him, his heart swelling.
“I apologize,” Sherlock whispers, looking away. “I was inconsiderate. I- I should have left you alone with your romantic affairs. You can… you can date whoever you’d like. Of course you can. I um- I suppose I… I just don’t want you interacting romantically with anyone who will be wasting your time.” Sherlock pauses, then shakes his head. “That sounds inconsiderate as well. What I meant was that most people are idiotic and they don’t deserve you…” Sherlock’s hands clench around the teacup. “No. Wait. That sounds… that sounds… that’s not what I meant. What I-”
“Sherlock.”
Sherlock stops talking, eyes flickering up to John. Gently, John cups Sherlock’s face as he steps closer. The detective’s cheeks flare considerably. John pauses, searching Sherlock’s eyes for any protest.
There’s none.
John kisses him.
Everything is still. It’s silent besides the occasional sound of a vehicle passing by Baker Street in the dark of the night.
The kiss is tender, both of the men staying still. John pulls back, opening his eyes slowly. Sherlock seems stunned.
John clears his throat, stepping back. “Fuck. Sorry, I- I thought…” He laughs awkwardly. “I’m so sorry, Sherlock, I-”
John is interrupted by glass shattering on the floor. The next thing John knows, he’s practically getting pounced on by a six-foot detective.
Sherlock holds John’s face and presses his lips against his desperately, earnestly. Once John gains back his cognitive function, he kisses Sherlock back, holding his waist tightly. John doesn’t know how they ended up at the end of the room, but his knees hit the edge of the bed and he falls back onto the sheets with a grunt. Sherlock follows him, climbing atop him and straddling him. John makes a noise of encouragement, his hang gliding up to tangle through Sherlock’s curls.
Sherlock’s lips move against John’s eagerly, kissing him into oblivion. John chuckles and pulls back slightly so that he can catch his breath—disappointment forms on Sherlock’s features.
“Did I- am I doing it wrong?” Sherlock asks.
“What? No. No, of course not,” John reassures. “Just…” John nudges his nose against Sherlock’s. “Slowly,” he whispers in instruction.
John brings Sherlock’s head down, capturing the detective’s lips. John sets a slower pace this time, allowing himself to get lost in the sensation.
Sherlock’s lips are plump, a wonder to taste. Sherlock groans, following John’s movements as he glides his thumbs across the doctor’s jaw adoringly. John shivers at the movement.
Yeah. He’ll never get tired of kissing Sherlock.
John sucks in a breath, giving Sherlock’s lips several pecks before leaning back. Sherlock makes a noise of complaint. John grins, squeezing the detective’s waist.
“I know. I know, love,” he whispers against his lips. “Just two things.”
“Make it quick,” Sherlock demands, his lips already trailing down John’s jaw.
John huffs a laugh, his mind already getting distracted by the sensation of Sherlock’s eager kisses against his skin. “Well, you’re cleaning up the broken glass.”
“And making you another cup of tea,” Sherlock says, sucking a particular spot on John’s neck. “Obviously.”
“Mhm. Y-Yep. Obviously. And-”
“And?”
“And…” John cups Sherlock’s face and makes the detective look at him. “And I’m sorry for being such a dick to you. I shouldn’t have yelled.”
“Don’t, John. I deserved-”
“Stop,” John interjects softly. “You never deserve that, Sherlock. Never.” John’s thumb soothes Sherlock’s cheekbone. “You’re brilliant. Everything about you is brilliant. My evenings are never ruined because of you. Nothing is ruined because of you. You’ve made my life better and I need you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that before.”
Sherlock stares at him, his breath shallow. “So you… you want me?”
John laughs. “I thought us snogging made that clear?”
Sherlock grins. “I’m not sure I’m fully convinced.”
“Mm. Well, then.” In a swift movement, John flips their positions, Sherlock now on his back and John straddling him. Sherlock inhales a shaky breath, his eyes full of anticipation. John leans down, his breath hot against Sherlock’s lips. “I guess I’ll have to convince you in full.”
Sherlock’s arms wrap around John’s neck, his long fingers running through John’s hair. “Please do.”
*•*•*•*•
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"But I love you"
When John entered the kitchen, Sherlock was making tea and toast, simultaneously trying to occupy a slightly hungry and impatient Rosie, while her food was warming. Semolina was the food of today for little Watson. “Morning,” John said, patting barefoot to the kitchen table. John and Rosie had stayed over for the weekend. They did this sometimes, when John had nothing on and Rosie was in the mood. Sherlock loved these weekends, even though he wouldn't admit it this so openly. He loved the tired evenings, loved to watch Rosie getting tired but stoically refuse to go to bed. He loved the afternoons, when they played with Rosie or took her out to the Zoo or the playground. He loved the early mornings, when Rosie was full of energy, and John soft from sleep. The things he hated were the Sunday afternoons, when John packed their things and said they had to go. He hated this. And he hated the following Mondays, when the flat was quiet and empty. He hated Tuesdays and Wednesdays, the rest of the week including the next weekend, because they never stayed two weekends in a row. They visited on some workdays, but they didn't stay. And Sherlock absolutely loved the weekends they did.
John frowned a little, then went over to say good morning to Rosie. She giggled when he pressed his lips to her cheek and closed her fist in his light hair. But her delight was short-lived, as she quickly returned to her impatient waiting for her food. She was hungry. Very hungry. Sherlock watched the scenery in front of him and smiled. Yes, he definitely loved the mornings. They had... well, a special atmosphere? No, maybe too sentimental. Or the other way round, not an appropriate way to describe these special occasions? Sherlock shook his had and turned to the tea again. Moments later he placed the steaming pot in front of John and handed him the milk. “Thanks,” John mumbled around a bite of toast. Sherlock gave the semolina he was gently heating into a bowl and placed it in front of Rosie. “Well, there you are little Watson,” he said and handed her a spoon. The spoon was painted like a bee and had two little wings on the handle for a better grip. Rosie gave a happy giggle and indulged in her meal. Sherlock sat, poured his own cup of tea and watched the Watsons. The frown he had spotted on John's face earlier was still there.
“Sherlock?” John indeed asked a few moments later, and Sherlock panicked slightly. He gave an indifferent hum. “You,” John continued awkwardly, “you don't have to do that, you know?” Now it was Sherlock's turn to frown. “Do what?” John finished his toast and watched Rosie smearing the contents of her bowl all over her face. Apparently he wasn't able look at Sherlock. “All this.” He gestured wildly around the kitchen. “This whole thing, with me. With Rosie. You never make breakfast, or eat breakfast and dinner at the same day!” John seemed somewhat upset. “Well, I...” Sherlock said hesitantly. “I just made breakfast. And I ate dinner yesterday. I don't know what-” but John interrupted him. “You spent the whole weekend with nothing but looking at Rosie, doing ridiculous things, nothing productive. At all!” Sherlock didn't know exactly what to say to this. “Yes?” he said, almost a question. “You-” Rosie chose this moment to investigate what happens when she drops her hand into her food, and Sherlock sat close enough for one of the resulting splashes to land on his shirt. He pushed it carefully onto his finger and licked it clean. When he looked up again, John was staring at him, wide eyed, mouth hanging open. “John?” Sherlock asked. “She just, she splattered your shirt with food and you're doing exactly what, nothing? Not a word, not even a sigh?” Sherlock looked at John in confusion. He was the parent, he should now this could happen. Surely this couldn't have never happened before? “John, she is little, these things happen. It's nothing that couldn't be put right again by a wash, I-” but John shook his head and moved to stand up. “No, no Sherlock. We can't come here every weekend and expect this from you, we can't burden you with all of this, it's not okay for you. It's... It's just not you.” He went around the table to lift Rosie out of her chair. “It's hardly every weekend, John,” Sherlock tried to interfere but John wasn't to be stopped. “Then add the numerous visits the other days of the week. We can't do this, you shouldn't be burdened with this. Me. Us...” Too shocked to move, Sherlock watched John getting their things and turning to leave, mouth hanging slightly open. When John reached the door, Rosie in his arms, Sherlock finally jumped up and reached out a hand. “But-” John didn't even turn. “No Sherlock.” Then he was gone.
But I love you...
The words remained unsaid. Sherlock stood there and stared at the closed door. But I love you...
He tried to take deep breaths to calm, to fight the sick feeling, the pain in his chest almost unbearable.
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Vincent Price about being Ratigan.
Via Cartoon Research:
Vincent Price: “It was the first time in 45 years I had to audition. I was furious with them. I had done more than a hundred pictures and if they didn’t know what my voice sounded like then the hell with them.
“After a while I realized I was being very silly and egotistical. They knew my voice but they weren’t sure whether I could adapt to the style of acting required by the role. So, like a kid, I tried out.
“The voice is crucial in the animated film. I guess mine evokes a certain mystery….or horror or melodrama and that’s what they wanted for this character.
If I have added anything to the history of villainy, it’s a sense of fun.
“The trouble with actors now is they mumble and grumble their arts. Everything is understated to the point of absurdity. You expect something larger-than-life, not smaller.
“The director would urge me on, telling me to make it bigger and bigger. To get that big sound out, I naturally gestured and made faces. I’d come back four months later and see more of the film and find that my gestures and expressions had crept in. The eyebrows especially.
“They told me that they based the part on my performance in Champagne for Caesar (1950). My character was took himself absolutely seriously and yet could see how ridiculous he was. He was Howard Hughes’ favorite character. He gets shot in the arm and says, ‘Oh my god, it’s real blood!’
“Rattigan is the same. For instance every once in a while one of his frightened henchmen call him a rat. He’s furious, because he thinks of himself as merely a large mouse. So he feeds the poor henchmen to his pet cat.
“Rattigan finds himself hystertically funny. He’s in the marvelous tradition of Disney villains. He’s mad, mad, mad! I do adore Rattigan.
“I did it because one should never stop. That’s the first rule. Keep going. Do everything, even cartoons. If you don’t, you stop. And stopping stinks.”
youtube
BTW, because too many people don't know it, this movie is based on the children's book series Basil of Baker Street by Eve Titus.
"The World's Greatest Criminal Mind" is one of the best things Henry Mancini composed.
I saw this when it first opened in theaters. Disney movies had been shit for years, and this was seen as the first animated movie of their new beginning. But some adults freaked out.
It's main character, Basil (Sherlock Holmes) didn't like kids.
Characters drank alcohol, and one got falling-down drunk.
A character who wasn't the villain was murdered (they only showed it in silhouette, but even that was too much for some critics).
There was a strip-tease, and Watson loved it.
Ratigan's Mad Scene was too mad.
Some wanted the movie banned. It wasn't. It didn't do that well -- it wasn't what Disney fans were nostalgic for -- but several critics praised it. Over time, it became a classic, mostly, I believe, because of Vincent Price.
#Vincent Price#Ratigan#The Great Mouse Detective#Disney animation#Disney villain#Disney#2D animation#animation#Basil of Baker Street#Eve Titus
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Characters' train of thought explained through mycro expressions
Well, I say explained, but just hear me out.
It occurred to me just now that I was making one of my silly posts, that they way Sherlock and John react to Sally Donovan's words might reflect something that I hadn't previously considered.
Up until this point in ASiP, John has just met Mrs. Hudson, with whom Sherlock seems to be so close, and her first thought was not only that he and Sherlock were romantically involved, but that they were already serious enough to be moving in together.
Then, there's Sally Donovan. She calls Sherlock a freak, so from here on, it must be obvious to John they're not in good terms.
Sherlock then remarks Sally didn't make it home the previous night, and Sally knows he's right; furthermore, she knows why she didn't make it home; she was with Anderson, with whom she is actually romantically involved, but presumably, she doesn't want to give Sherlock, the man she constantly ridicules, the power to ridicule her back over Anderson, so she tries to prevent Sherlock from going any further with his deductions by deflecting to John and the reason he's there.
Sherlock proceeds to introduce John by his professional title, "Colleague of mine, Doctor Watson", because he's eager to show off his association with him, something I have previously theorised about in this post, but Sally doesn't care about that, now does she?
"Colleague? How do you get a colleague?" she asks then, and the question is obviously meant to imply Sherlock is so utterly unbearable that no one would want to be around him, but it serves another purpose too. By teasing Sherlock about his involvement with John, she can easily deflect from her own involvement with Anderson.
Now, let's see the boys' reactions to the question again, shall we?
Sherlock turns his head and rolls his eyes because he's obviously offended, but he's already used to it; after all, Sally is hardly the first person to treat Sherlock this way, but John, John frowns as if offended on Sherlock's behalf because at this point, neither Sally nor Mycroft have warned him about Sherlock being... well, Sherlock yet. It is then that Sally adds...
Sherlock lowers his head, once he finally gets what Sally is implying. It is true that Sherlock doesn't know that she spent the night with Anderson yet, but just the fact that she was out all night might suggest she spent it with someone, and now she might be asking if John followed Sherlock home for the exact same reason.
Thing is, at this point, they have just met each other, and they seem to be getting along. This doesn't happen to Sherlock that often, and he must know John is special, which is the reason he invited him along in the first place. Why would a man who is said to have no friends and who once said "Alone protects me" would immediately ask John to live with him and work with him within 24 hours of having met him if he wasn't the exception to the rule? I can only imagine how badly Sherlock wants to be the exception to the rule for John as well, and how scared he might be of driving him away; after all, he's learned from everyone else around him that he's a freak, that he puts everyone off, that he's meant to be alone, and he doesn't want John to see him in that light because he wants him to stay.
Sally's comments have effectively made John question why he's even there. He rolls his eyes and prompty suggests it might be better if he waits outside, but that's not all there is to it.
Why would John suggest that? He could have just ignored Sally's question, but instead, he reacts just like he did when Mrs. Hudson ("Of course we'll be needing two"), and Angelo ("I'm not his date") implied he and Sherlock were a couple, by retreating. Sherlock can't be happy about this, but he reacts like he did before too, by ignoring the situation and bringing John along anyway. He can deal with Donovan later.
The opportunity presents itself when they come across Anderson, and it takes Sherlock less than a second to deduce by his deodorant that he is the person with whom Sally spent the night, which is then confirmed by their reactions.
So this little remark...
This was payback. If Sally really thought she could make him look inadequate in front of John, well then she'd better take a look at her own choice of companionship first. Inappropriate and immature, sure, but so was Sally Donovan's behavior from the start.
So we're finally in, and who do we have next? Ah, Lestrade! Kind, and unassuming Detective Inspector Lestrade, who mirrors Sally's question upon seeing John, but Sherlock is having none of this.
Translation: "I'm not doing this again. This is nobody's business but our own. He's here, he's with me, and I intend to keep him, so would everyone please back off?"
I may be wrong, but I think that ultimately, this might be at least part of the reason Sherlock doesn't respond when they are interrogated about the nature of their relationship. Why bother when it's obvious to him people don't know the first thing about them? This is them, this is the two of them against the rest of the world, this is private, this is their life together, this is what they are to each other and Sherlock will have no one question it or ridicule it, let alone trying to understand it.
Almost 12 years later, and here I am, trying to question it, and trying to understand it, but that's neither here, nor there.
#i've written my second meta#bbc sherlock#sherlock meta#ok but hear me out#sherlock x john#sherlock holmes#john watson#johnlock#asip#a study in pink
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dating steve would include... (part two)
pairing: steve harrington x fem!henderson!reader
part one
-sneaking him into your house for sleepovers
-him complaining whenever you dedicated time to schoolwork instead of him (even if you allowed him to sit with you while you worked)
-both of you being slightly territorial but completely unwilling to admit it, which was always entertaining for your friends to watch in action
-occasionally giving him a hard time over all the girls he dated before you just to see him get all worked up and defensive
-letting robin take the passenger seat when he drives you both to school, until he randomly starts picking you up first and doubling back by his house for robin afterward ("what? you're too nice to tell robin to get in the back, so i had to take matters into my own hands")
-dustin referring to you and steve as every famous duo under the sun
•bonnie and clyde
•romeo and juliet
•holmes and watson
-understanding all the kids' d&d terminology, which only ever surprises steve ("babe, how do you know this stuff? am i the only normal one here?")
-randomly making a statement supporting queer rights during a conversation with steve and robin which eventually led to her coming out to you
-punching billy in the face in the school parking lot one time because he was being racist giving lucas a hard time, which steve was actually pretty mad at you for (“y/n, he could’ve seriously hurt you! do you not understand that?”)
-taking mid-day naps together after you got out of school/he got out of work
-steve being the best listener when you just needed someone to rant to
•mumbling a supportive mhmmm whenever you made a specific point during the rant
•you rambling for 5 minutes straight, then sighing and saying, “ya know?”, to which steve nods and says “i hear ya, babe”
•when your anger fades a little and you ask him, “am i just being crazy?” his immediate response is something like ‘absolutely not! those dickheads are lucky i don't send el to fling them off a rooftop or something'
-dustin barreling into your room while preemptively covering his eyes and yelling threats every time he realizes steve is over and you have the door closed
-him offering to drive you whenever you mentioned having to go somewhere to him
-constantly having to explain lord of the rings/the hobbit references to him (“babe, please just read the books”)
-when you ask what's gonna happen when you go away for college, he looks genuinely dumbfounded before shrugging and saying, "i thought i'd just go wherever you go"
-a double date with nancy and jonathan that was both horribly awkward and incredibly fun
-spearheading all the kids' crazy plans, which drives steve insane
-steve looking at you and saying, “these are the people that are gonna babysit our kids one day” every time your friends did anything abnormal/ridiculous
•while dustin, mike, lucas, and will have a full-blown argument over their d&d campaign
•after robin trips and face-plants on the walk from her front door to steve's car
•when el is using her powers to adjust the tv antenna so no one has to get up from their seats
•after nancy convinced everyone to go back into the upside down/face vecna despite the terrible odds
-your mom adoring him, which kind of annoyed dustin but also made his heart feel whole
-his fingers hooked in your belt loops in a crowd to keep from getting separated
-him playing with your fingers while you talked to dustin about something that didn’t interest him
-listening to him sing in the shower when he didn’t realize how loud he was being
-giving him tons of nicknames but only reusing the ones that made him blush
•lover
•stevie (which he forbade anyone else from calling him)
•batman (originally because of his iconic nail bat, but then a double entendre of sorts after his encounter with vecna's bats)
-him knowing your favorite song off the top of his head even before vecna came around
#stranger things#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#henderson!reader#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fic#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic
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Arranged marriage with Sherlock
Always by my side!
Bbc Sherlock
Warning:- arranged marriage, anxiety!
Otherwise fluff!
I'm writing these tropes! Here's the list!
It all started when my family became determined to marry me off to someone, literally anyone, as I failed to find myself a suitable groom they took it in their own hands. I was furious and rejected every men they presented. But it was my mistake, because the last guy whom they confirmed on my behalf looked a little suspicious. I didn't know how to get his information out so I thought to seek help from the best person in London. Yes, Sherlock Holmes and his assistant and friend John Watson. As I knocked, and finding the door open, I entered to find the two men arguing,
"Sherlock Holmes?" I called out loudly. Both of them looked at me and I told them everything. The detective listened and said, "I would've declined this case immediately but guess you're really in trouble." I was unsure of his remark.
"What ?"
"The way you described him, it says, he doesn't value anyone, he isn't going to value your opinion, I'm sorry but he is not someone who is... Suitable for you ".
"What do you mean by that?" I wanted a clear explanation.
"Look at you, you're young, posh, I believe educated and have own opinion, a little self centric perhaps but he, he's gonna treat you like you don't matter, so if it wasn't for you I would've turned it down but ...." He paused, "I'm not going to sit quietly and see your life getting ruined."
"What will you do?" John asked him.
"I'll find about this guy and see if he's fine for her."
Two days passed and I got his call,
"Yes?" I answered.
"I atleast expected a greeting" said the man from the other side. "Anyway come to Baker Street at once."
So I did and obviously that guy turned out to be a jerk, who disrespects everyone.
"So you better tell your family." He said.
"But that ain't gonna work." I replied.
"Why so?"
"You see, I don't wanna get married right now, and I have rejected 15 men they've chose".
"Fifteen?"
"Yes, and he's the sixteenth but my reason for rejecting them was, I... I wanna study Mr Holmes, more, I know I'm already a graduate but I want more, a good job too, I don't want to be my husband's house wife and as you've seen him, they won't let me work."
"Have you told your parents?"
"No use, they'll be marrying me off anyway, they're determined."
"That's illegal, you can simply..."
"They're my family Mr Holmes, I'd rather marry a jerk than letting them go through this legal trouble."
"But that'll ruin your life" he said with such power in his voice and that was the truth.
"I guess your work is done then, just the payment part is left".
"Are you going to marry him ?"
"Yes unfortunately."
"Then I'm unsuccessful in your case, I can't accept a penny."
"You did your job".
"I won't take a coin".
It was absolutely ridiculous to argue with him, so I greeted and went away although before leaving I just heard John's voice saying, "Sherlock, I have a plan."
I shrugged it off as I was genuinely in trouble. Later that evening, I found out that my marriage with that Jerk was called off because someone else, said to be better turned up to ask my hand in marriage, Sherlock Holmes. Can you believe it? What a ridiculous thing he has done honestly. I was furious. I couldn't help but enter my room and call him,
"Hello?"
"What are you ? A lunatic?" I was absolutely angry.
"See , you can't greet properly, what's wrong?"
"You asked my family to marry me ?"
"John and Mycroft did, it is arranged between our families."
"I asked help and you idiot, you took this opportunity to marry me? Does my parents know how older you are than me ?"
"Yes they do, yet they accepted and I'm still helping you".
"Exactly how?"
"If you marry me, you won't have to be with that Jerk, I won't stop you from studying and you can work as long as you want you can stay with us, and in the mean time, if you find someone whom you and I both find suitable for you, you are free to follow your heart."
"I need your approval now?"
"Oh yes you do"
"Fine but you can't force yourself on me, that's the fear I have in arranged marriage "
"I assure you I won't, now get ready for the wedding young lady."
That was the conversation we had before the wedding and we met on our wedding day again. Everyone were so happy but I was still trying to process everything. I myself did the rituals hesitated but look at the cold detective, he did everything so smoothly. I couldn't believe I had to live in that rusty dusty flat with him. But yet after all he was saving my life, it was true.
I became Mrs Sherlock Holmes. After the wedding we both went to the very famous 221b Baker Street. When I entered his flat, it was absolutely disaster, papers filled the floor, and his dining table was more like a chemistry lab.
"Uh, I know this isn't something you expected" he said, he seemed a little embarrassed, "but um give me some time I'll, I'll fix it". And offered me a smile. I stared with furrowed eye brow, I still can't believe I'm married. But I kept on reminding me, it's just a help, he helped me. Because of him that Jerk won't be forcing himself on you.
I smiled back to him too then wondered where should I keep my things, "my things?" I asked.
"Oh yes um that's my room you can put it there... I mean" he paused a little, "our room". He said, I didn't know what was happening, but it sounded good, 'our room'. I did as he said and saw him picking the papers from the ground. People said he's a junkie, he might be, but not he was extremely sweet, at least at this moment. No wait? What am I thinking, perhaps I was just hungry.
"May I open the fridge?" I asked impatiently, he was about to warn me to be careful but I already opened it and yes, there were human thumbs. I gave a light scream and closed the door.
"At least wait till I tell you" he said.
"I'm sorry, I didn't expect that."
"You okay?" He seemed a little concerned not gonna lie.
"No I was shocked, I'm fine don't worry. So you don't have food in there."
"Nope"
"You don't cook?"
"Nope"
"Who does?"
"Mrs Hudson, John"
"John? He lives here?"
"Yes with rosie his daughter."
"Oh"
"Is that a prob..."
"It's okay I can cook".
He forgot to blink perhaps.
"You want to cook? In my kitchen... I mean our.. I.. you can cook?"
"Do I look stupid? Ofcourse I can cook, just tell me what you have, I'll make something out of it,"
He walked towards the kitchen, still not blinking and took out every little thing he had but I already had in mind what I'm gonna cook.
"Cool, you have chicken and everything, looks like chicken tikka masala would be perfect. now you can clean while I see what I can make."
He stared as if his eyes said, 'bosy' . But he nodded and went back to his work.
After half an hour John came with Rosie. The first thing Rosie did was hug Sherlock. And he seemed really fond of her. It was so sweet I could stare at them if I weren't cooking. He's not that cold as he seems, perhaps these walls and John and Rosie could only see this side of him, and now me. Then Sherlock stood up and walked towards me while John and Rosie went to their room.
"Um I was thinking, perhaps we can order something, because we always eat together so.."
"I made for them too". This reply too seemed surprising to him.
"You did?"
"Yes I made for five people, you me John rosie and Mrs Hudson, what? You thought I'll only cook for myself?"
He stared and I almost wanted to hit him with my frying pan for being such an idiot.
"I... Thanks" he uttered.
"Okay um.. welcome maybe" that was the most awkward thanks and welcome I've ever been a part of.
Obviously my heart was in my hand when we sat to dine, what if they didn't like it?
"Why aren't you eating?" John asked.
"Oh no I want you three to eat first and tell me if you like it?"
I waited nervously as they took their first bite and then I saw their expression, enough to tell me it was good.
"It's soooo good" said little rosie, "really good" said John. And then I stared at the stupid man, also the most intelligent man as well actually, the man I was married to, "it's um.." he started,
"You can do better, be honest like you're always, harsh honest". Urged John.
"It's, better than anything I've ever had, I believe you know the secret of making good food, which is putting every spice in right amount and..."
"She doesn't need this, your intellectual explanation." John scolded him.
"Yeah right sorry."
I couldn't help but a soft giggle escaped from my mouth, "that's okay, glad you all liked it, now let us have our dinner."
After we four ate and Mrs Hudson also came to say it was so good. And surprisingly I saw Mr detective helping John with the dishes. I took this opportunity to roamed around the little flat. Rosie was already asleep and I stood by the window. After their work was done John went to sleep. And I could hear light footsteps of Sherlock approaching,
"That was very thoughtful of you". He said from behind. I turned to face him.
"Please, it was normal, atleast for me."
"If I'm being honest then I must say I deduced you wrong, I thought you were self centric."
No he wasn't wrong, I am self centric but how could I say, how could I confess? as standing by the window I realised I... I started to like his little family and him as well.
"I actually am, but I like when people praises my cooking so Maybe that's why. Anyway I am sleepy."
"Oh yes ofcourse, then we must ..." He looked at me and I gulped because things started to get pretty awkward at this point.
"Don't worry " he assured, "I'll keep my promise, I won't take advantage of you."
"Oh no I know, I trust you with it."
And sleeping beside him, didn't feel awkward at all. Even though when I woke up I saw my hand was on his chest and he was wide awake.
"Oh I'm sorry" I apologised taking away my hand.
"No it's fine, I believe you are used to sleep hugging a pillow isn't it?"
Again Mr detective deduces everything, "mm yes".
"So it's fine, don't worry about it." He got up saying so. Yet ofcourse it was awkward. But I tried to think nothing of it and replied,
"Yes I guess, are you going somewhere?"
"Yes cases, I'll take John with me too, will you be okay here?"
"Rosie will be here right?"
"Nope she'll be at school."
"When will you come?"
"Maybe before lunch."
That was okay, I could just go out and explore the place till then. And that's that, the two men went on their adventure and I went out to roam around Baker Street. I sat inside a cafe for an hour two, perhaps two until my phone rang and it was Sherlock, "yes?" I recieved it and said.
"Hey um.. when are you coming?" He asked from the other side.
"Are you two home already? I thought... Never mind, I thought it'd take you time, it's okay I'm coming."
And apparently I went to 221b, to find the two men already sat.
"There you are" said John.
"Yes, I am."
"He's never been this excited to get home before honestly."
"JOHN" snapped Sherlock at his comment.
"Uhhhh, okay" I said awkwardly and we three had lunch together. Later that evening both John and Sherlock were home, discussing about the case and Rosie went down to Mrs Hudson.
"So that's it, now I'm gonna go out get some air" said John and Sherlock and I nodded. We both sat in silence for a few minutes.
"Do you wanna walk outside too?" Sherlock asked me nervously.
"I mean, I wouldn't mind." I said smiling cause I really wanted to go out for walk.
We both walked aimlessly through the streets and some small talks were the entertainer for us. Many stores, cafe, restaurant passed and we walked together. It felt good surprisingly. He too felt good perhaps, his brows are always furrowed but now I see there's a twinkle in his eyes, brows relaxed and is that a little smile?
"You're staring" he snapped me out of my deduction.
"Oh yes , I was , trying to deduce you". I answered smartly or tried to do so.
"Oh really? So what did you get?"
Is he challenging me?
"Well, your case might've been well, you seem happy."
"Hmmm" he just hummed, but it was an acknowledging hum.
"Was I right?"
"Fifty percent".
"Now what does that mean?"
"Coffee or tea?" He literally shrugged it off and didn't explain, that's something new.
"Tea" I replied
"Same, let's get in here" he took me into a cafeteria. He ordered two English tea and some biscuits. It came in no time almost.
"It's actually good." I remarked as I took a bite of the biscuit.
"Ginger nuts" he said.
"I know your favourite. But mine is Bourbon."
"I know, I ordered those too, and if you'd like cakes , pastry you can get them too." He offered.
We had a good time there, just us, we got to know eachother more. It felt like he's very own. He talked of his past, his work, his friends. Perhaps he felt the same way about me. We made this evening date an everyday thing, even if he had work he'd take break for an hour and we'd try tea from different places. And I discovered he's and excellent violinist. He and I would even talk till we sleep. It's been many times we'd just talk stay awake at night and unknowingly drifted off between them.
But the other day as I layed down talking to him with my phone and giggling with him. He asked me, "you're quite likable to all aren't you, people must've been very fond of you since your childhood?"
I paused for a moment, as I remembered my horrible days, those horrible angry faces, those elders shouting at me saying things that hit me like dart, that pierced my heart, thess memories may have been burried under but, comes out time to time. I'm sure he saw my smile fading,
"Hey, what happened? Are you okay?" He said this a little louder as he held my hand. I remembered my horrible days and I felt tears falling down my cheeks. My phone fell from my hand as I looked at him and held his hand which hand my other palm in it and started crying. I bet he couldn't believe it, he told me his dark side smiling but I wasn't him, I wasn't strong. So I held him and cried, that was the first time he held me that close, he wrapped me in his arms tightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it'd cause you pain, forgive me".
I tried to control as I felt a little better after letting it all out, "no it wasn't your fault, you see Sherlock, I wasn't likable or something like that so I didn't have much people liking me. I was never upto the mark according to them, You've seen how vulnerable I am, Sherlock please don't leave me for this, I will do anything but don't abandon me for being weak."
"Shhh, no I can never leave you, how could I?who says you're weak, you survived every brick they threw at you from that young age, You're stronger than you think, and I? I won't ever leave you, and I think your parents have been harsh because they wanted good for you, even though creating trauma isn't the way but, it's okay, that was past, you're here now, you're looking for work and doing things you like, you'll see your family will understand you one day, for now, I'm not leaving."
He stroked my hair trying to calm me down. And I did perhaps, for that night, I hoped he knew what comes with me, hope he knows how to deal with this side of me. Bet he does, Sherlock Holmes knows everything. Since then I'd say we became good friends. And perhaps a little more as we're supposed to be, after all I shouldn't forget I married him.
A few months later as we were walking together from our evening tea date, and reached home we saw inspector lestrade at our doorstep.
"Sherlock".
"Lestrade? You look nervous, desparate... Well like as usual".
Should I laugh at him being this silly? Perhaps not now. We entered and he explained his case, it needed Sherlock and John to be investigating it right away but,
"You guys need to come to yorkshire with me, until the case solves." Said lestrade, and it was for a long time. I never felt like this. I felt as if without him, I forgot how deal with things. He felt the same I was sure, I looked at his face amd his expression was as similar to mine.
"But lestrade..." There wasn't any excuse but, Sherlock tried to form some kind of reason but there wasn't any.
"What?" The detective inspector snapped.
"Nothing" no he couldn't say it, "could you wait outside?"
"But I need to fetch you right now."
"I said outside, I need to talk to my wife." Sherlock yelled at these words. He yelled at lestrade for me. I felt safe, safe to be his wife. At that very moment I embraced my title and my marriage.
He went out and Sherlock looked at me, "listen I..."
"I know, I don't like being without you either, but I don't wanna be someone who drives you away from the thing you love, your work." I replied.
"What I meant to say is not this, look, it is true, these days since you've come, I was happy to be at home, I liked being here. As you deduced me smiling, it was half for case and half for being with you, I enjoy being here, with you. You are the best friend to whom I never feared of being judged and you are the one whom I stared at, when you cooked, when you try to play my violin, when you play with Rosie and even when you sleep. Yes and I know I promised you something but guess right now all I want for us is to do that one thing that is still left for us do as a married couple."
My heart leaped as I realised what he meant. But he needed to be at Yorkshire that moment than in our bedroom. I couldn't think more and placed my lips on his. He kissed me more passionately, hungrily, lovingly. After the kiss. As we breathed heavily I whispered, "perhaps after you come back from Yorkshire, we'll can be completely married then."
"so you won't go to anyone else?" He asked, our forheads touching one another's.
"no, where can I go, this is my home, you're my home Sherlock."
"And you're mine".
That was that and both the men went on their adventure. Molly would come sometimes to check on Rosie and we became good friends. Sherlock would call everyday and then after 2 and a half weeks. He came. We stood staring at eachother for a minute after his arrival. That distance between us was needed to know the value of eachother. And we valued us.
1 years later...
As we sat on the couch, he looking for cases and I was doing my work, he called out, "I must say it".
"What?" I was surprised, what now?
"I can't keep it, I haven't said this to you in a year". He was nervous again.
"What is it?"
"I love you" it took him a year to utter these words again to me.
"I know, thank goodness you said this again, after more than a year of our marriage, I believe you said this to me first time when you came from Yorkshire and kissed me isn't it Sherlock?". I said and got back to work.
"You didn't say it back?" He asked with his puppy eyes. Aww look at him. I put my laptop down and kissed his left cheek and said,
"I love you too Sherlock Holmes ".
Taglist:- @poetrypirate @astudyinlaura @peppiloll @callsign-sunshine @el-de-phi @druggedbyfiction @mysticwitchcraftco
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Beers, Tomato, and Suspenders (Lewis Nixon X GN!Reader)
Prompts: 106 – Neither one of us is drunk enough for this conversation. & 109 – I saw that. You just checked me out.
Summary: Before D-Day. Two conversations take place, one with your best friend George Luz, the second with your (perhaps, perhaps not) friend Lewis Nixon. What can come out of this?
Warnings: some f words
Author’s Note: Long time no see, my friends! I’m sorry for being MIA for so long. Anyway, consider this some sort of a comeback 😊. There have ended up some BoB smut requests in my inbox so to inform you, I’m not writing smut, at least not yet, for I do not feel comfortable doing so. I apologise to the people who came to me through my inbox to ask me some questions, sorry I wasn’t able to answer them.
-> Also does anyone know how to edit masterlist (or any other old post actually) after some time? I'm not able to update my masterlist or just simply edit a list of fandoms. Help is greatly appreciated! Thank you!
Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @happyveday @order-of-river-phoenix @whoahersheybars
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.
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“Okay, we have a few more days before we’re moving out and you still haven’t done anything about your big fat crush on-“
“Shut the fuck up, Luz!” you exclaim, covering his mouth with yours. He laughs at your somewhat childish behaviour, but then he licks your hand so you would pull it away and also to annoy you even more so the fight over who’s more immature is clearly won by him again.
“You are disgusting,” you say, but your lips slowly form a soft smile – the situation is quite ridiculous; two paratroopers discussing one’s crush in the middle of a bar somewhere in Britain, while other paratroopers around them are getting blind drunk. “And I do not intend to do anything about it.”
George pouts, clearly he is more than excited to see you hit on someone, the need for some entertainment overwhelms him and you are sure that once you would have gotten up from your chair, Liebgott and Tab would be immediately by Luz’s side, cheering you on and closely watching the situation unfold. But you remain sitting, and George has to turn to his beer instead.
“But why?” he presses on, once he finishes his glass of that golden liquid and sets it down on the wooden bar. “Tab has some classified information that Lewis Nixon is over the heels for you.” That makes you laugh out loud, and soon enough George joins you but for another reason completely – he laughs because someone else is laughing and he’s drunk, you laugh because that sentence alone sounded so ridiculous that you simply could not react in any other way.
George doesn’t bring up the topic anymore, but he remains at your side as if he knows something you don’t. You sing with Floyd, you play cards with Malarkey and Muck, you have a contest about who downs a beer faster with Toye (you win but Joe swears he’ll challenge you soon enough and this time for money for he is sure that he’ll be the winner). You try to stay away from drinking too much alcohol; those two beers, one with George and one with Joe, plus the one shot with Eugene (which you practically coerced him into drinking – who could have said no when the toast was to victory?) is pretty much the only liquor flowing in your veins.
For a moment, George excuses himself (“When I drink, I always have to piss all the fucking time. I hate it.”) and you find yourself on your own behind the bar, wondering whether another beer is a good idea until someone interrupts your thoughts. “Hey Joe, get me a pint, would ya?”
You’ve spent so much time daydreaming about that voice, that by now you can recognize it anytime, anywhere, in your sleep, in your dreams, from meters away. You turn your head to your favourite intelligence officer and you’re suddenly glad you have not ordered that beer because you would have probably choked on it for Lewis Nixon just looks so good in just the green trousers, green shirt, and those damn suspenders. While he waits for his drink (apparently, he’s all out of Vat69 when he’s opted for beer), he slips his one arm under one part of the suspenders, then his other arm, and the suspenders fall down from his shoulders, hanging now from his hips from their clips on his trousers. This simple action, that takes not more than few seconds, leaves you breathless, you could watch him just be his self for hours on end and never get tired from the sight.
“I saw that,” he suddenly turns to you, “you just checked me out.”
Now you would have definitely choked on that beer. Your cheeks redden immediately, you know exactly how you look (like a fucking tomato, that’s for sure) and you struggle really hard to find an excuse because it’d be obvious even to a blind person that you were downright staring at him.
“I did not.” you state as sternly as you could, but Nixon smiles and for some reason unknown to you, he does not go away but rather orders another beer that lands before you in a moment.
Lexis is apparently pleased at how flustered he can make you, he is enjoying it to his bones, so he does not stop teasing you. “Yes, yes, you did.” A bigger smile now adorns his face, and you have to fight really hard to not smiling again because his joy is so contagious.
“No, I did not. If anything, you were checking me out.” you try to spin the conversation in another way and to your surprise (and later pleasure) it works for Lewis steps a little closer to you and responds. “Well, I did not really try to hide it, did I.”
It’s more of a statement than a question and for the second time in about three minutes you are blushing again like a teenager.
Nixon goes on. “And at least I can admit it.”
Your head is spinning, you quite can’t comprehend that this is what you are talking about with Nix, and he just stands so close to you, you could touch his army shirt if you desired to, the urge to run your fingers through his messy hair is storming you and you find yourself in need of a fresh air. But you don’t step away, you wouldn’t dare to because this type of breathlessness just feels good.
So, you opt to play his little game. “Neither one of us is drunk enough for this conversation.”
Lewis’s eyes sparkle. He takes his beer in one hand, yours in other and nods his head in the direction where the doors out of the bar are. “Maybe we should fix that.”
Finally you smile at him, you know he knows you won’t decline the offer, but it doesn’t bother you one bit. “The conversation or our not-drunken state?”
Lewis grins at you in his own special mischievous way and he knows you know what the answer will be, but it doesn’t bother him one bit. “How about both?”
#lewis nixon imagine#lewis nixon x reader#lewis nixon#lewis nixon imagines#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers imagines#hbo war#imagine#fanfic#band of brothers#band of brothers imagine#band of brothers oneshot#george luz#george luz imagine
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Do you think Toto has ever given Miles some variation of the shovel talk?
i definitely think he's tried.
—
"Miles?" Toto's tone is polite enough, but he's holding himself to his full height.
"Yes?" Miles says, looking inquisitively at him. He's still standing with his hands in his pockets, body turned towards Lewis.
"It is nice to have you here," Toto says, smiling pleasantly with all his teeth out.
"Thanks," Miles says after a moment.
"You spend a lot of time with Lewis," notes Toto.
"We're friends," Lewis says, nonplussed.
"Yes," says Toto after a pause. "Friends."
"Good friends," Miles adds.
"Yes, about that," says Toto. He takes a step closer. "You see, we care about Lewis a lot here. I care about him a lot."
"That's good to know," Miles says, looking confused.
"And you have been spending a lot of time with him—"
"Toto, we're friends," Lewis begins, looking annoyed now.
"I know, I know," Toto says, placating. "I just want your... friend here to know that—"
"Oh my God, you're shovel-talking him," Lewis says, eyes wide. "Toto!"
"I am not anything-talking him—"
"This is actually so embarrassing, oh my God."
Miles, on the contrary, looks amused. "Seriously?" he tells Toto, straightening his back so that he's at his full height too. He's only just slightly shorter than Toto, but they're eye to eye.
Toto, to his credit, does not falter. "I am very serious."
"So am I, then," Miles says, and there is a shadow of a grin on his face. "Give him the car he deserves or—"
"Or what?" challenges Toto. "Are you threatening me?"
"Not at all," says Miles pleasantly. "At least, no more than you were threatening me."
"What the hell is wrong with you both?" Lewis asks, bewildered, but is ignored.
"I was not threatening you," Toto counters. "I was merely saying that—"
"If I hurt Lewis you'll kill me, blah blah," Miles says, managing to sound bored. "Right back at you. Mr. Wolff," he adds belatedly.
"What is happening?" Lewis mutters to himself.
"So we're clear?" Toto says. "Mr. Chamley-Watson," he adds in the same tone as Miles earlier.
"Clear," Miles confirms.
"Good," says Toto, and takes a step back so they're no longer in each other's faces. "Carry on then."
"Good talk," Miles says, clapping Toto on the shoulder, and a strange look of understanding passes between them.
"What the hell did I just watch?" Lewis asks, frowning, as Toto turns and leaves.
Miles grins. "I reverse-Uno'd him, bruv."
"You— Miles." Lewis sighs. "That's my boss."
"He's acting like your dad," Miles protests. "No, wait, your actual dad didn't do this."
Lewis elbows Miles as high as he can, which happens to be just below his ribs. "Because I'm not a teenage girl in a movie!"
"Why are you mad at me, he started it!" Miles says indignantly, moving out of elbowing range. "I just finished it, that's all."
Lewis sighs. "You're both ridiculous," he declares. "And terrible."
"Ah but you love me," Miles counters, grinning down at Lewis, who rolls his eyes.
"Shut up, Miles."
"Don't hear you denying it," Miles teases, slinging an arm around Lewis's neck and dragging him close.
"Miles!" Lewis yelps, but he's laughing more than he has all week, and it's all good, honestly.
#asks#anonymous#my writing#sorry for the delay in answering anon but u Inspired me :')#also credit to niamh for the reverse shovel talk idea lol#f1 rpf#lewis hamilton#miles chamley watson#toto wolff#lewis/miles#i mean sort of? tagging it anyway#what even is the ship name? mewis? liles? god these are awful
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20 Questions For Fic Writers
I was tagged by @marley-manson and @ofmdmash - so I will tag:
@topshelf2112-blog @remyfire @allcanonisrelative @jaelijn @amrv-5 @mycenaae @muirmarie @thebreakfastgenie @uncomfyfriendly @rescue-ram @blistersonmefingehs @fieryphrazes
(but don't feel obliged unless you want to play, and if you'd like to play, consider yourself tagged!)
How many works do you have on Ao3?
253.
2. What's your total Ao3 word count?
1,393,465.
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Primarily (and in more or less chronological order): Blake's 7, Star Trek: TOS, The Professionals, Highlander, Star Trek: tng. MASH, House, and The Fugitive (the film with Harrison Ford and Tommy Lee Jones). I have also written fanfic for MacGyver (the 1985 TV series), the West Wing, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Quantum Leap, , and various literary fandoms as an exercise in pastiche.
4. What are your top five fics by kudos?
The top three are MASHfics: Tuttle, All We Know, Go, tell them in Sparta - and four and five are both Star Trek fics (both Spock/McCoy): A Man of Integrity, and Through A Glass, Darkly.
5. Do you respond to comments?
Yes!
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Oh, that's a difficult question. Possibly it's ""I would not be you for a kingdom" " - my Villette slash story: though in that case I was just using the angst Charlotte Bronte handed me in the novel. Likewise with the Blake's 7 story Cruelty Has A Human Heart, and the Good Omens story Let this cup pass from me, and the Highlander story Day and Night But, even what with stories where the angst is built into the source material, I think the angstiest ending is that of the long series The Games. (I considered MASH in Drabbles and concluded that as I wrote the 80 or so drabbles in the sequence individually and out of order, it doesn't really count.)
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
That is an extremely difficult question to answer. I like writing in universes full of angst. Many of my stories have hopeful endings, which make me happy, but I think the unequivocably happy ending is the MASH story Responsible Indefinitely For Each Other’s Welfare. Because there they are, together, at the end of a long life: and Hawkeye is still the same delightfully annoying trickster as ever.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Sometimes. Usually for ridiculous reasons. "I hate that pairing!" Well, don't read it then. "So-and-so isn't gay, he's too masculine!" - Oh, honey, let me introduce you to some big strong bears, you'll love them.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
I would say mostly no, but occasionally yes. I believe sex scenes should be essential to the plot and full of character development, so I rarely write just pure smut. But I did write a Stargate Atlantis story, What I Tell You Three Times Is True, which was purely written as a sex scene, after a giggled conversation with a friend who was into Stargate Atlantis.
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
I love crossovers, both the reading and the writing of them, and have written dozens. I would say the weirdest one I ever wrote was a West Wing / Star Trek:tng / Drop The Dead Donkey crossover, No More Overtime.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not as far as I know.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Not as far as I know.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Yes, sometimes. It's a fun thing to do with friends. I co-wrote the More Deadly MacGyver/Highlander crossover with Jakrar, sparked out of a paragraph she sent me in an email.
14. What’s your all time favorite ship?
"All time" - I don't think I have one. I've loved and still love Avon/Vila, Spock/McCoy, Bodie/Cowley, House/Wilson, Holmes/Watson - but right now my favourite ship is definitely Hawkeye/Mulcahy.
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
The Buffy/MASH crossover. I just don't see where I'd find the time.
16. What are your writing strengths?
Dialogue, perseverance, imagination, angst.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Heterosexuality. Certain words which I always misspell unless I look them up, each time. Not understanding what is going on in people's minds, see 'heterosexuality' - also racism, sexism, and classism.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
Mais c'est impossible. I prefer to write in English but signal that this is a different language being spoken. Bene, plerumque. I had to think about this a lot when writing ASL dialogue for All We Know.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Blake's 7.
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
Usually the one I am writing at the moment, which is to say All We Know - and the one I want to finish: A Hawk Through the Mirror. But I think technically one of my best is Friend and Stranger - a story set three years after the events of the 1993 movie The Fugitive, written in form as much like the movie as I could make it, full of sudden POV changes between Gerard and Kimble and attempting to get the emotional intensity and chemistry between the two of them that we saw on screen, down to a satisfying conclusion.
#ask meme#my fanfic#i am writing#Blake's 7#Star Trek#Highlander#The Fugitive#Buffy the vampire slayer#house md#west wing#stargate atlantis#holmes/watson#spock/mccoy#Macgyver#crossovers#good omens#quantum leap
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I love it when they dance, in public or just by themselves. For your prompts if you wish.
Thank you so much for this prompt! I love slow dancing and this was a joy to write.
A Love So Deep
Fandom: Sherlock (TV)
Tags: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Romance, Dancing, Slow Dancing, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Kisses, They love each other so much, Sappy, Angelo is always there to help, Post-Season/Series 04, Post-Mary Morstan
Read here on ao3.
*•*•*•
A simple dinner at Angelo’s is all they really need, even for their anniversary.
A few years ago, Sherlock would have never accepted something so simple. Or more like, he would have never even accepted something so sentimental, let alone embark on a romantic date.
But as Sherlock has experienced, what seems like, many lifetimes and many experiences, he doesn’t mind John taking him to somewhere as dull as Angelo’s. And of course, there is the fact that John is taking him.
Rosie has been dropped off at Molly’s for the afternoon and no cases are coming forth to interrupt them. Though even if one did come, Sherlock wouldn’t protest.
But John does seem giddy to take him out, so Sherlock supposes he’ll not wish any to come to their attention.
As they arrive at the corner of the small restaurant, Sherlock instantly notices that the interior is empty. He looks down at John, who seems to be unalarmed.
John opens the door for him without comment, and Sherlock slowly walks in, taking in the restaurant’s alluring set-up. Candles are the only thing illuminating the dark space and all the tables are put to the side.
“John…” Sherlock croaks.
A hand wraps around Sherlock’s waist as the blogger pulls him in, kissing his cheek. “I know it’s not exactly your thing,” John starts, “but I figured it’d be more… pleasant if it were just us.”
Angelo comes from the back, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses. “And I was happy to help!” Angelo adds, gesturing them to their usual table in the corner. “Sit, sit.”
Sherlock huffs a disbelieving laugh as he takes his seat near the window, John sitting beside him.
“No wonder you were so thrilled for dinner,” Sherlock says as Angelo pours their glasses.
“How could I not be?” says John. “I’m quite proud of myself, I’ll have you know.”
“One more,” Angelo advises, lighting another candle between them. “More romantic.”
Sherlock knows it’s a sick paranoia, but he waits for John to deny Angelo’s statement. Of course, nothing comes, John only smiling in thanks. Relief settles in Sherlock’s chest, which is ridiculous since John hasn’t corrected anyone’s assumptions for the past three years. It’s quite literally been heaven.
Angelo leaves to prepare their food, not bothering to ask for their order since he’s memorized their usual by heart.
“This is quite theatrical, John,” Sherlock says.
John hums. “Too much?”
“Not at all,” Sherlock responds, allowing himself to look at John with full adoration. “It’s wonderful.”
“Then it seems I’ve done my part,” John says.
A slow, harmonious melody begins to play. Sherlock blinks and looks in the corner to see Angelo has set up a CD player. The man puts a thumb up in support.
“Right on cue,” John compliments with a chuckle. The blogger stands and extends his hand. Sherlock takes it without hesitation, his heart swelling.
John leads them to the middle of the room, where the space is unusually empty and wide. John places his hand on Sherlock’s waist and Sherlock holds John’s shoulder. John’s free hand takes Sherlocks, wrapping their fingers together, entangling them.
Sherlock’s mind can’t help but drift as he remembers him and John being in this exact same position in preparation for John’s wedding. Sherlock remembers teaching John the specific steps, leading him across the flat, at first clumsily, but then with ease once they repeated the process several times.
Sherlock remembers the ache in his chest when he danced so close to John, chest to chest. He remembers the longing. He remembers how it was torture that they weren’t doing it out of pleasure, but out of practice.
“Sherlock?” John asks, tilting his head to make eye contact with him.
Sherlock blinks and matches his eyes with John. “Yes?”
“Lost you there for a bit,” John tells him, slight concern in his voice. “Alright?”
Sherlock nods, holding John’s hand tighter. “More than.”
John seems to relax at the reassurance. He pulls Sherlock in closer, beginning to move his feet. “It’s just you and me, love,” John whispers against his lips. “It’s just us.”
Sherlock gets lost in John’s eyes as he nods.
They dance slowly, swaying with each other as they just hold one another, bask in each other’s presence. The song crescendos, the lights of London peaking through the window, creating a subtle spotlight.
Sherlock leans down and rests his head on John’s shoulder, burying his face into the blogger’s neck. The scent of John’s cheap shampoo hits his nose, the smell of his cologne is so familiar and comforting.
John’s hand lifts from Sherlock’s waist and runs through the detective’s curls.
“You’re my world, my universe,” John murmurs into Sherlock’s ear, hushed and personal. “I’m never letting you go again, love. Never.”
Sherlock listens silently, kissing John’s neck to show him that he understands, that he’s grateful for such devotion.
“My clever detective… you’re brilliant,” says John, the words flowing out so easily, it makes Sherlock flush. “So brilliant. I knew it from the first day we met. I knew you were going to be something to me, something exceptional.”
Sherlock lifts his head, looking into John’s eyes. His lips part to say something, but nothing comes. Instead, he leans forward and kisses John deeply. John sighs into the kiss, pressing back into Sherlock with the same eagerness and want. Once they pull away, Sherlock finally gains back his breath.
“I’m very glad to be something to you, John,” Sherlock whispers, his voice sincere.
“Oh, darling, you’re not just something anymore.” John cups Sherlock’s jaw, pressing their foreheads together. “You’re everything.”
*•*•*•
Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @ninasnakie @thegildedbee @whodwantmeasaflatmate @with-a-ghost-mr-holmes @sherlocknjohn221b @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @itsonlytext @7-percent @chinike @peanitbear @bakerstreetbe @mary-johnlocked @curlyjohnlock @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @ceceliajupe
(Please let me know if you don’t wish to be tagged! And thank you so much for the reblogs, my loves <3)
#johnlock#sherlock#bbc sherlock#johnlock fanfiction#writerscommunity#ao3 writer#ao3#sherlock fandom#sherlock tv#sherlock bbc#sherlock fanfic#sherlock x john#sherlockbbc#sherlock and john#sherlock holmes#john watson#slow dancing#dancing#fandom ships#ao3 fanfic#established johnlock#established relationship#sherlock fluff#romance#romantic#Angelo’s restaurant#writer tumblr#writers on tumblr#writers on ao3
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I was tagged by @salsedine ages ago (thank you! 👋🥰) and finally getting around to it!
So these are in no particular order even though they're numbered, but here we go:
1. Leonard McCoy from Star Trek: The Original Series
I love his gruff exterior coupled with how much he cares really deeply. He's passionate and full of fire, but he's also so compassionate and caring. He's a healer, but instead of embodying the "saint-like" version of that trope, he's all too human and flawed. I adore him.
2. Joan Watson and Sherlock Holmes from Elementary
Yes, I am cheating, but they are sold as a set do not separate 🤷
I just love both of them. I love the way they interact, and their partnership in every sense of the word. They're funky and unapologetic about it, and they can be sharp and vindictive, but they can also be so, so soft and caring, both to each other and to others.
3. Jaime Lannister from Game of Thrones
He's slick and snarky and talented. He's in a nasty codependent romance with his sister. He's incredibly insecure yet incredibly cocky. He's so so brave and stupid. He's in love with Brienne and shows it by giving her a sword. He's a hot mess. Just a complete disaster of a human. I love it. I want to study him in a jar.
4. Sam from Lord of the Rings
He's a cinnamon roll, does this need more explanation? 🤷
5. Leslie Knope from Parks and Rec
She never, ever gives up, and she believes so hard in making the world a better place, and she loves her friends so much, and.... She's just inspiring. She's a character who gives me energy and makes me feel like things can get better and good people can make a difference.
6. Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit
My boy 🥹 He is fierce and loyal and cunning, and he's got a temper and can somehow get away with scolding people twice his size. The bitch energy is at epic levels, and yet he's also somehow so caring. He is an icon, a legend. We can only aspire to such sass and love as is packed in this tiny man.
7. Basil from The Great Mouse Detective
He's ridiculously cute and smart. I love how he pretty much adopted Dawson as His within like 5 seconds of meeting him. He's also a secret softie, getting all testy with Olivia only to pretty much immediately cave when she starts crying. Plus he's Sherlock Holmes as a mouse. Only wins here.
8. Richard from Galavant
He's a pathetic noodle of a man who's committed horrible atrocities by his own admission, yet he still manages to make you want to give him a hug. What a disaster man. I adore him.
9. Alan Grant from Jurassic Park/World
He's got a PhD but can't figure out a seat belt. He's clearly madly in love with Ellie but takes like 30 years to admit that he'd rather have her than his career. Yet again, a complete disaster. Are you sensing a pattern?
10. Bek from Gods of Egypt
Yes, I know this movie has problems, first and foremost the whitewashing, but I can't help it 🙈 Bek in particular is just 👌 He's so determined and spunky. He says cheesy one-liners to himself while stealing from literal gods. He's blasphemous to the gods' faces. The love of his life is killed and his immediate response is to blackmail a god into bringing her back to life. He's lucky and brash. I love him.
No pressure tagging:
@the-chickenshit-oddity @lassiesspanishaccent @lenievi @figsandfandoms @51kas81 @mourningroutine @underture @lovethistoomuch
You don't have to if you don't want to, but if you do - tag! You're it!
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