Home againAUTHOR'S NOTE: this is sequel to the story "A month after." If I were you I'd read that story first. Thank you.
Sherlock Holmes's returned to 221B Baker Street after his "death" 5 hours and thirty two minutes ago. And to be honest he didn't expect that reaction from Mrs. Hudson and John. Especially from John. The consulting detective thought Mrs. Hudson would faint and Dr. Watson would punch him in the face. Or somewhere else. But instead of that Sherlock saw his friend with hopeless eyes and the gun in his hand, ready to die.
And that's caused pain. Sharp pain inside Sherlock Holmes's heart. The feeling of constant grief has been living in Sherlock all of these 18 month. 18 month Sherlock Holmes was dead to his best friend. And 18 month he has been solving crimes in China, Japan, New Zealand just not to think about John's sufferings. But every evening, just like Mycroft predicted he watched his Doctor via cameras on Baker Street. There was time when the detective was ruining everythin
A month after. Sherlock and Mycroft.AUTHOR'S NOTE: please, do read the FIRST part of "A month after. John" because without the previous part it would be difficult to understand the plot of this chapter. Thank you.A month after. Sherlock and Mycroft.4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Stop it, Mycroft. Just stop."
"I can't. And you know this, Brother dearest."
"I've never asked you for help. Only this one. Can you help me?"
" Haven't your YOUR BLOODY SURVEILLANCE SHOW YOU THAT JOHN IS SUFFERING??? He is talking with me. With me, who is supposed to be dead."
"We both know that it is the best situation for him and for you too."
"He is thinking about the suicide. John wants to kill HIMSELF, CAN'T YOU SEE THIS???"
"Sherlock, stop shouting like a child and behave yourself like a grown up at last."
"Mycroft if y "
"Hush. Do you think I will allow John's death? After what I did to you? We belong to one side, Brother, remember that."
"I've never thought it would last for that long."
"You can't go to John right now. Think about the risk. All my work will be broken. And innocent
A month after. John.18th JulyA month after. John.4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"He was my best friend and I'll always believe in him."
That was the last thing that I'd posted in my blog. No more stories, no more annoyed comments from you, sitting on the other side of the room. No more adventures.
I don't know why I'm writing this. This is not going to be posted, but I just need this. You'd call me an idiot, but it's like a talk. A talk with you, Sherlock.
Yesterday I was lying in the hotel room Yes, I live in the hotel, because Because it's too painful for me to be There, on 221B. But yesterday at night I suddenly remember that Mrs. Hudson was going to give all of your equipment to a school. But I thought it was a bad idea. I jumped up from the bad and called her, waking her obvio Obviously up. Her voice sounded as always cheerful and kind. I asked her not to do that with your tubes and microscopes. And do you know what? She didn't ask me why. She is an amazing lady and I know you like her too. Remember how brave she acted when
A month after. John and Sherlock.AUTHOR'S NOTE: please, do read the FIRST part of "A month after. John" because without the previous part it would be difficult to understand the plot of this chapter. Thank you.A month after. John and Sherlock.4 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I don't know how much time has past. I don't live, I exist. Breathe, sleep, walk. No suddenness, no changes, no adventures.
And no hope.
A hope for hopeless. I found that song in the Internet long time ago, before we met. Then I thought about the stupidity of its title. Don't think the same right now.
Sherlock, I can't. I don't see the way out. I can't solve this problem.
So I decided to do the last possible thing. Is it a right decision or a wrong one, I don't care. Life goes, but I can't. I try to, but I am failing.
I think it's time to go to sleep... "Just a little longer" I say myself this every time, but now. I know it's definitely the right moment. One little piece of metal in my body. And the end.
Goodbye, Sherlock. Be sure, I believe in you every single second.
"John. John, please open
A month after. John. Part 220th JulyA month after. John. Part 24 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Have you ever counted how much steps are here on 221B? Maybe you No you definitely have. You are Sherlock Holmes after all, you know everything.
When I've enter our living room today at the morning I Thanks to Mrs.Hudson I am okay now.
Okay? How can I be okay? No, you don't know everything. You don't know anything at all. Anything about pain. The pain you have caused. You can't even imagine, Sherlock, how
Right now I am sitting on my armchair just in front of yours. And I put skull on your armchair, don't you mind? It listens me at least
My tremor is back. I dropped my cup, because of it. And my leg hurts again.
Yesterday I met Lestrade and we went out to drink some coffee. He told me that all the Scotland Yard had gone mad. They found that file about Moriarty being an actor. He asked me if I believed that Moriarty was Brooke. And I was really glad that just my one look was enough for him to understand what I think about that maniac.
Good old Lestrade.
Shwatsonlock- MoreJohn Watson found himself in his usual place, reading the paper- like always-, sipping coffee with no sugar- as he was accustomed to do-, but something felt like the day would be far from normal. Of course, living with Sherlock Holmes meant that normalcy was in itself strange and rare. These suspicions were confirmed when Sherlock staggered through the door, his face grazed badly, clothes torn and limping slightly. Upon seeing the consulting detective collapse onto the couch, John leapt to his feet, dropping the paper he'd been reading.Shwatsonlock- More4 years ago in Romance More Like This
"Calm down, John. It was nothing."
Sherlock sat up, but the pressure of the arm of the couch against his side made him wince and cry out in pain, which caused John to snap into action. He retrieved his medical kit and immediately knelt before Sherlock and began cleansing the wounds on his face. Every time he winced, John felt a stab of pain too.
After a little time had passed, Sherlock broke the silence.
Sherlock- ReunionATTENTION: CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE END OF SEASON 2. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE REINBACH FALL. Or, you know, do. If you don't care about spoilers.Sherlock- Reunion4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Sherlock Holmes was
John couldn't finish the sentence.
His hand curled and uncurled, the nervous tick that used to ail him returning. It had been doing that almost without stop since that day. The day that replayed in his memory over and over, each time bringing an overwhelming wave of emotion, mixing from disbelief to horror to pain that stabbed him in a place no bullet could ever puncture. Sherlock's arms pinwheeling, his iconic coat tails billowing like wings oh if only they had been wings to stop his fall. The pavement hadn't done a very nice job of it.
Sherlock Holmes was
John was limping again. Psychosomatic, his therapist said. Like Sherlock had said. The shock from the loss was bringing it back just like the tremor in his hand. Not that the therapist had been able to do anything about it. John didn't know
JohnLock - Never Had the CourageSherlock Holmes sat in the flat he had once shared with John Watson.JohnLock - Never Had the Courage3 years ago in Romance More Like This
He had been gone, dead, for three years, and had finally made his return. He had never thought three years could be that hard and agonizing; never thought he would ever miss a person that much.
Sherlock had been told he had no heart, and until he saw John heartbroken, standing by his fake tomb, he had believed it to be so. Now he knew the truth.
Sherlock Holmes has a heart, and when he left, he left it with John at 221b Baker Street.
He had barely had the time to feel the weight of it before he let it go.
He had still felt it though; he missed John so dearly he did not know what to do with these new feelings.
Because no one, not even the best and smartest human being could understand what to do with feelings.
The worst was when he heard song that - without him allowing them too - reminded him of John, of their home, or their time together.
He gets up from his chair in the flat and tu
Sherlock- BoxJohn blinked at the box in the middle of the floor. It was fresh, new. The label on the side was addressed to Speedy's café, so John knew it wasn't originally meant to be in the flat. Mrs. Hudson wouldn't randomly leave a box in the middle of the floor, and John definitely hadn't had anything to do with it, so that left Sherlock.Sherlock- Box4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
As far as things Sherlock brought back to the apartment, a cardboard box was mundane, at best. That was part of what worried John. He moved to examine the box, speculating as to what could be inside.
The first thing that he noted was that it was upside down. The bottom of the box, which was now the top, was still sealed with packing tape. Closer examination showed that the tape across the top of the box (now tucked underneath) had been peeled off, so the only opening was at the bottom. This also meant that it had been opened, which reduced the fear that Sherlock was stealing a café's mail.
With a huff, John plopped down in his chair, staring at the b
Iced Mint"John? What do I smell like?" They were both lying face up on John's bed, with Sherlock's head nestled between John's neck, and John's right arm resting against Sherlock's chest.Iced Mint3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"Icy." It was the first word that popped into his mind. "You always smell clean. Hang on." John sat up and rolled over so that he was on top of Sherlock, and he nuzzled his neck, taking in a deep breath and Sherlock gave a few small but deep laughs at the sensation.
"Mmmm…" John sighed out in delight. He took in another breath and smiled. He loved that smell–it was unlike anything he'd ever smelled, and he had never really truly understood the meaning of "intoxicating" until he had smelled Sherlock. Come to think of it, there were a lot of things he found intoxicating about Sherlock Holmes. The way his body seemed to be sculpted of marble. His black as night hair that always had a few perfectly formed ringlets. His iridescent eyes. The way his voice deepened when he wanted something. The
Must Be MadTitle: Must Be MadMust Be Mad4 years ago in Romance More Like This
Rating: Mild T (13+)
Summary: There are some things none of us understand. Things like falling in love with Sherlock Holmes.
Warnings: Slash. May trigger intense periods of crying over the cruelty of the BBC.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. If I did, the series finale would certainly not have involved John Watson's heart breaking into a million tiny pieces.
Notes: This is kind of part of a series of fics (Must Be Mad, More Than I Am, Lovers of the Lost, and Of Course, Of Course.) They can be read as a series, or as stand-alone stories
Through All The Days Out Wandering It had taken a good 30 minutes, but John had finally gotten Sherlock from his fetal position on the floor onto the couch. Sherlock's head was in his lap and he was stroking Sherlock's dark hair as the detective tried to process his shock. Every few moments he could feel a tremor pass through Sherlock's lean frame and it made his heart ache to see his invincible friend brought into such a position.Through All The Days Out Wandering3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"Just breath, Sherlock." he repeated for the fifth or sixth time that afternoon. Finally Sherlock seemed to respond as he turned his body over to look at John, the red from his eyes finally gone and replaced with a cold, calculating stare.
"Sherlock?" John asked warily not knowing why that hard gaze was aimed at him. Sherlock's eyes softened momentarily as he shook his head slightly and then he closed his eyes, bringing his fingers to his lips.
Letting LooseSherlock and John gave eachother one of those looks after getting home from another adventure and then John gave Sherlock a fake punch on the arm. Sherlock looked at him strangely. "What was that for?"Letting Loose4 years ago in Settings More Like This
"I don't know, just friendly, you know " John grinned and gave him a friendly punch again, but Sherlock caught his arm and held it tightly. "Sherlock, geeze, what is it?" John said. Then Sherlock was moving closer, and suddenly he punched John lightly. Sherlock looked at him and gauged John reaction with a raised eyebrow. John smiled and looked up at him laughing, "yeah that's it, like that," John said. Sherlock punched him a bit harder on his arm again. "Sherlock " Sherlock punched John again. "Sherlock " Sherlock punched John again. John punched him back harder on the arm. Sherlock went to punch John again, but John whammed him with a blow closer to the chest.
BlanketIt had been days since Sherlock had slept, but John didn't really worry. Of course he worried a little bit–with the protectiveness he felt for Sherlock and his doctor's instinct how could he not? But he knew that eventually Sherlock's body would shut down, (despite Sherlock's protests), and force him to rest. And so when John came home that night after a slow day at the clinic, the sight of Sherlock slumped in his usual armchair did not surprise him in the least, and it brought a smile to the tired doctor's weary face and a certain contentedness to his heart. He imagined it was how a parent must feel after watching their child struggle for days on end and then at long last find peace.Blanket4 years ago in Romance More Like This
He saw Sherlock's bare feet and noticed that he wasn't wearing his coat and scarf either. So he went to his room, grabbed the blanket off the bed, and came back into the study. He knew he didn't have to worry about waking Sherlock up, so he took as much force as necessary to properly wrap the blanke
Hot Showers"Sherlock? I'm more than willing to play alongseriously, by all means, keep goingbut I have to ask"Hot Showers3 years ago in Romance More Like This
Sherlock merely purred and John had to shake his head a little to clear his thoughts. Though he certainly wasn't arguing with his current positionpinned against a wall underneath Sherlockhe was understandably confused.
"Are you feeling alright? I mean, I've only just"
"Gotten out of a very hot shower. So hot in fact, that you didn't put on your robe, only a towel to cover your lower half."
"And so hot, that even a minute and 20 seconds later I can still see that your skin is red from where the water scalded youespecially here." Sherlock said, and he pressed his lips to the top of John's shoulder. He smiled when John hummed a mix between a moan and a chuckle. As quick to respond to flirtation as ever, John never had been the blushing, chaste type. Just another thing that Sherlock loved about him: he was quickto catch on an
Comfort and smiles. one-shot"Sherlock, I think I'm in love with you."Comfort and smiles. one-shot3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"No John, I don't love and you are not homosexual. Stop caring, stop loving, it's a weakness."
Sherlock turned around and walked away, my feet were incapable of moving. I wanted to run after him, scream at him, wanted him to come back and hold me tight.
"No Sherlock! No!"
And I fell. I fell in despair. I kept falling, backwards, forwards, I didn't know, but I couldn't stop it. There was nothing I could do to stop falling.
I shot up, throwing off the blankets. I felt my shirt, it was drenched with sweat. I panted. Another nightmare. Usually, they involved war, but this time, it was so very different. I'd never dreamt this before. It was weird. Of course I didn't have feelings for Sherlock, he was my best friend, nothing more. And, even if I did, he wouldn't love me back. I'm pretty certain he is asexual.
A gentle knock on my door.
"Yeah.. Yeah come in, Sherl "
He opened the door and tears flood my eyes.
"Yeah?" I alm
John's Chair It had taken months for John to work up the courage to admit that the feelings he felt for Sherlock were more than what one feels for a best friend. It had taken another month for John to decide that he couldn't put up with the almost bipolar emotions he went through when he was near Sherlock. It had only taken an hour for Sherlock to kiss John.John's Chair3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
It wasn't like he had meant for it to happen. He had come home from surgery, tired, grumpy, and sore. Sherlock was leaning back in the armchair, mind elsewhere. John put up with a lot from Sherlock-more than flatmates normally put up with- but he would not put up with Sherlock stealing his armchair. "Sherlock," John cleared his throat, "you're in my seat."
Sherlock looked up, glaring at John. "Yes, brilliant, John."
There is nothing wrong with youSherlock irrelatively sighs. It will be great if someone at last dies or steals something or commits suicide or kills someone at least. But there is nothing.There is nothing wrong with you3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Nothing, because Sherlock after the returning to life from his "death" can not investigate in the usual manner (bursts into the crime scene, breaking every rules, because Scotland Yard needs him). From the police only Lestrade knows that Sherlock Holmes is actually alive and he realizes why it is important to keep that information in secret. But this means that Sherlock can interfere only in the really tough cases.
And that makes the Consulting Detective bored. So very very booored.
He yawns and rubs his cheek, lying on the sofa. Then Sherlock turns his face to see what his friend doing.
John Watson sits, typing something on the laptop; the white cup stands near him, the cup with rough black tea. Without sugar.
But Sherlock's attention has been caught not because of tea.
Sherlock jerkily stands up and in two steps fin
Yes, Damn itLately Sherlock had taken to sending John little quizzes and riddles and tests, apparently in an attempt to sharpen his mind. He was constantly pestering him with cryptic texts, many of which John refused to bother with anymore because his brain felt like mush from solving the last one. Still, he had to admit it was kind of fun. He found himself almost anticipating the next challenge, and growing a bit more competitive, trying to work it out faster each time to beat his own record. The fact that Sherlock would even ask him to try and match wits with him was almost like a compliment, although it usually turned out as an excuse to be impatient with him. He was getting better at it, although many times it seemed that Sherlock was irritated with him even when he got the right answer. He hadn’t decided if there was really something else he was missing, of if Sherlock just couldn’t stand to admit he’d gotten something right.Yes, Damn it3 years ago in Romance More Like This
Morning LipsGood morning you." John said cheerfully as he walked out of the kitchen to see Sherlock slumped in his armchair, his feet dangling over the edge and his head propped up on his hand.Morning Lips3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Hummm?" Sherlock asked, raising his head just enough to look at John. "Oh, Good morn-"
John came up to him and kissed him on the cheek. Sherlock, shocked, sat up a little more and watched as John went over and sat down in the chair across from Sherlock. John smiled, noticing he was staring.
"You okay?" John asked beaming.
"You just..." Sherlock began, then stopped mid-sentence and touched his cheek with his fingertips, smiling. "Yeah." He said. "Yeah. Perfectly fine."
John smiled and started to unfold the newspaper. Sherlock stood, walked over to John, placed his hand on his shoulder and bent down, kissing him on the cheek back. John took a deep breath of contentment as Sherlock pulled his lips away and went into the kitchen.
-Oh Sherlock...- John thought, smiling and touching his cheek. -Today, your cheek
We Would Be Warm Below the StormJohn. Come home immediately. - SHWe Would Be Warm Below the Storm4 years ago in Romance More Like This
John's eyebrows furrowed; Sherlock was pushy, no doubt about that, but there was something odd about this. John knew urgency when he heard it, and he heard it in Sherlock's text.
OK. I'm at the store. I just have a few more things.
He put it back in his pocket and went back to looking for his crisps. Literally two seconds later his pocket pinged again.
Leave the bloody shopping. Come home *now.* - SH
John didn't even think twice. He left his basket in the middle of the aisle and ran out of the store and into the rain. What had been dark and foreboding skies when he entered the store were now horrendous buckets of rain, but since he didn't have any food to carry, he decided to walk. (He knew that it would take longer to try and get a cab, seeing as everyone else was trying to, and even if he managed to get one the rain would just delay his arrival even more). He could always just change clothes when he
Glass Arm"Sherlock?!" John called, entering the flat, just getting home from the clinic.Glass Arm3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He took a few steps into the flat, then almost passed out from the smell, radiating from the kitchen. He grabbed the wall for support and covered his nose with his jacket.
"Sherlock!!!" John shouted through his jacket, the stench overpowering.
"Mhmm?" Sherlock answered, barely audible though the flat was silent.
John stumbled into the kitchen, leaving his jacket over his nose and sliding his hand along the wall, just in case. Sherlock sat on a stool, examining what looked like blood in a pipet. He swished the red liquid around, then gave it a long hard star, then looked up at John. John looked at Sherlock, then around the kitchen, which seemed to be a new place to hold all sorts of bodies and body parts. Arms, legs, skulls, heads, eye balls in jars; you name it. The smell of death wafted through the whole flat, and John felt sick to his stomach from the old, too familiar smell from the war.
"What in the hel
Always Look at the Hands"Always look at the hands first, John."Always Look at the Hands3 years ago in Romance More Like This
That's what he had told him once. He didn't know if John had paid any attention to it, but it was one of his sure-fire methods of deduction. After observing one's hands, you were then to examine the cuffs of their clothing, their trousers, and then the trainers or boots.
One quiet night at Baker Street, John had been lying on the couch reading, but only after an hour or so had dozed off and the book had slumped onto his chest. Sherlock had come into the room, looking for something, but he lost the thought (a rare occurrence for him) when he saw John. Looking so peaceful. He knew that everyone looked peaceful when they slept, but still, he couldn't help but walk over to the couch and just look at him, and after a few minutes, he kneeled beside him to look closer. He took in everything. The way John's breath was deep and how his chest rose and fell, how his hands still held the book, how every once in a while he would swallow and take a de
The Return of Sherlock Holmes7:30 am. John switched off the alarm and got out of bed, for a second, just a split second he was about to call out, "Sherlock, are you up?" but then it all came crashing back down on him like a nuclear bomb. He could hear them all saying it, 'Sherlock Holmes was nothing but a fake.' It made his blood boil that they could believe such nonsense, Sherlock was the best man he ever knew, and his best friend.The Return of Sherlock Holmes4 years ago in Drama More Like This
John walked into the kitchen of 221b and opened the fridge. Since Sherlock had died it had been cleared out. No more of his experiments lay waiting in the fridge. No more severed heads or eyeballs. It had been disgusting, but in a strange way John missed that. He looked at the bare fridge and thought to himself, 'We're out of milk.' A tear rolled down his cheek as he smiled, a small, sad smile. He made himself a cup of tea and went to sit at his desk. Sherlock's violin lay perched up against the windowsill, John picked it up and plucked at the first string, then the second, then the th
Only you can ease my painJohn winched and gasped as yet another sharp stab of pain pierced his shoulder, centering in his old wound from Afghanistan. Though it was nothing unusual at this time of year for his shoulder to act up (the cold weather always made it stiff and aching) it was still a painful and dreaded experience each time. The pain was often accompanied by small yet rough and ruthless flashbacks from that ill-fated day he had received the wound, the day he and his entire team had been ambushed and he, despite his greatest efforts, had lost three men at his own handsOnly you can ease my pain3 years ago in Romance More Like This
Another wave of hot white pain hit the doctor. The hand, currently grasping his bare, left shoulder in a desperately tight grip tightened, if possible, even further and John couldn't help letting of a small cry of pain this time around. Normally these painful incidents didn't last long enough to grow this painful, normally a pair of long pale hands would come to his rescue and, without him even asking, gently massage and kneed his tense