Incantations and Deductions SHObviously it took years for them to ever get around to speaking to each other. Sherlock reasoned that it was natural: as well as being in different, some might even say rival, houses, there was also the social class divide and the fact that Sherlock always gave off the general air of someone who never wanted to talk to anyone, in his life, ever. As a general rule Sherlock felt that unless someone was directly benefitting him by being alive in his presence he would do his best to tolerate them, but if not they could bloody well bugger off and do their dull living /breathing /sleeping /eating /talking /having fun business somewhere else.Incantations and Deductions SH4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
His mother said it was just his age, that teenage years were awkward, his anti social nature was a phase he was going through. Sherlock rather suspected that it wasn't so much his age as his life. And he wasn't awkward, he was perfectly poised. It was the rest of the world that was awkward and unpredictable and usually mundane but occasionally
BBC Sherlock-BabysittingJohn Watson rubbed his eyes wearily and summoned the last fragments of his patience. "Alright, run it by me one more time. You did what?"BBC Sherlock-Babysitting5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Sherlock Holmes was, for some unfathomable reason, sopping wet and covered in soap suds. His clothes were plastered to his skinny frame and he stood dripping in front of Watson's armchair, peering down at his friend through his sodden fringe. "I ran through a car wash." He explained, calmly, for the third time.
John sat back in his chair, his eyes closing despairingly, and asked the question again. "Why?"
"Chasing a suspect."
"And it didn't occur to you to go around the car wash instead of through it?" Then John remembered this was a guy who, on the very night he met him, got hit by a car whilst chasing a suspect. Sherlock may have been incredibly intelligent but the tunnel vision he got when a suspect was in sight often led him to do chronically stupid things. Rather like running through an operational car wash . . .
"Well, he w
BBC Sherlock - FreakJohn Watson was tired. He was chilled to the bone, exhausted and comprehensively pissed off. As a matter of fact, the last time he had been this angry he'd been lying on the ground with shrapnel in his shoulder.BBC Sherlock - Freak4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
People have the most bizarre reactions to traumatic events, this he knew from his experience from a doctor. He had once met a man with an amputated arm who, still buzzing from adrenaline, had picked up the limb and was using it to hit small rocks like a very macabre game of golf, giggling hysterically all the while. He KNEW people had strange reactions, but nothing quite compared with the actual experience of lying in a gulley in Helmand Province with blood gushing from an open wound, staring at the sky and thinking lividly, 'They shot me! The bastards shot me! That's . . .! That's . . . ! That's just not bloody cricket!'
His current anger had a less dramatic origin however. He and Sherlock had been running around London all day, freezing their arses off and making a very unsat
BBC Sherlock - Day OneJohn Watson sighed irritably and looked at his watch. Unsurprisingly his train was late. Probably the wrong sort of leaves on the line again. Either that or the entire thing had fallen through a hole in space and time and was currently being used as a chew toy by some beast from the dungeon dimensions. He had heard weirder excuses during his time spent on trains; mind you he didn't have a very good track record with that form of transport full stop. Something invariably went wrong. On one memorable occasion the driver, who had been trying to sneak a cigarette on the job, had dropped hot ash in his lap and accidentally set fire to his trousers.BBC Sherlock - Day One4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
John and the other bewildered passengers of the 9:00 to Norwich train had subsequently been treated to the driver shrieking over the intercom for one of the ticket men to come and assist him in 'putting his knackers out.'
He stood in Liverpool Street Station and stared vaguely up at the departure times board, getting jostled by the regular commut
BBC Sherlock - UndercoverSince he had started living with Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson had gotten used to coming home to strange sights.BBC Sherlock - Undercover4 years ago in Humor More Like This
However, he had to admit to himself as he stood in the doorway, this one took first prize for out-and-out weirdness.
Okay, this one even beats the time I came home to find him systematically nailing himself to the floor by his clothes. And the time I found him re-enacting a black magic ritual to get inside the mind of a murderer. Come to think of it, you can still see the chalk from that pentagram on the floor. I'm surprised Mrs Hudson never said anything about that . . . Oh, and then there was that time with the dead octopus . . .
John was well aware he was doing a lot of mental babbling, but the alternative was that he consciously took in the fact that Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, was currently being laced into a corset by his eldest niece and her friends.
Sherlock wheezed out an expletive. "Chr-ist! Gently Squid!"
"Sorry Mr. Ho
BBC Sherlock - StudentsDr. John Watson shook his head in bemusement as he entered the flat.BBC Sherlock - Students4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
He could smell food, Carbonara if he wasn't mistaken. This could only mean one thing.
One of Sherlock's lesser known but more endearing habits was his tendency, when a case had been solved, to make up for his lack of eating and sleeping during his investigation. Running on the glee and adrenaline high of being proved right, he would go whipping around the kitchen like a whirlwind as he ate half his body-weight in food before crashing on the sofa and sleeping for about twenty hours solid. As the detective found the depression and boredom of inactivity began to sink in soon after, John had learned to savour the time while it lasted as soon after he knew Sherlock would be shooting holes in the walls again.
As John entered their front room, his eyes were automatically drawn to the sofa.
Sherlock was curled up on the sofa in an angular tangle of elbows, knees and lanky legs. He was snoring quietly, one hand resting on Glad
Incant and Deduct Part 3 SH HPIncantations and Deductions Chapter 3-In which the author discovers 'plot'Incant and Deduct Part 3 SH HP4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Whispering started early on the Thursday morning. Carl Powers, second year Hufflepuff, had never made it to his common room or dormitory the night before. At first Sherlock didn't think much of it; kids were always getting lost. Still, it was usually the first years who took wrong turns on the staircases or got led astray by some of the cheekier ghosts. A second year, missing all night was not unprecedented, but it still wasn't normal.
By first break the whispers had increased, become distorted and salacious as long hours passed and Carl had not returned with a bashful smile or delivered to the infirmary with some minor injury.
"Someone saw him going down to the lake, is what I heard. He's a swimmer, you know...."
"I heard he's been visiting the head of Hufflepuff loads and he went to see the headmaster the other day. Wonder what that's about?"
"His parents were splitting up..."
"There are an awful lot of corrid
BBC Sherlock-Christmas DinnerJohn Watson rolled his eyes as he heard yet another smash coming from Sherlock's bedroom. He had never ventured past the (faintly-charred) door and had no ideas of the horrors which lurked within. But, he mused, given that it belonged to a man who kept eyeballs in the microwave and frequently attempted to create plastic explosives in the kitchen sink, chances are he probably had some nefarious experiments in there. Experiments which, to judge by the noise, were currently being knocked to the floor.BBC Sherlock-Christmas Dinner5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"Sherlock, we're going to be late." He called through the door.
"I know, I know!" Came the irritated response, coupled with a sound like a parrot being sat on.
"Mycroft specified 6:30. If we're to get to Holmes House in time we've got to leave in the next five minutes. Especially since taxis are always so scarce on Christmas eve." John said, re-reading the invitation he held in his hand.
"I know." There was a high pitched whizzing noise and a thud as something embedded itself i
BBC SH- Great Wall of PillowsJohn Watson knew for a fact he was a boring sleeper.BBC SH- Great Wall of Pillows3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Despite Sherlock's many quips about his snoring shaking plaster dust off the ceiling, John still was certain that his flatmate was joking and that in fact he was a placid, uneventful snoozer.
Sherlock however slept only sporadically. And when he did he would wriggle and mumble to himself in his sleep, as well as clutching onto anything within the reach of his sleepy arms and cuddling into it contentedly. But, even with John's firm guidance Sherlock could only be coaxed into a semi-regular sleep pattern and even then only when there was no case to be had.
John got the feeling however that this was not to be one of those nights.
They had spent the entire day chasing around Manchester in the course of a case and they had only resolved the matter after a tense chase through the city that had involved Sherlock misjudging a rugby tackle which sent him and the suspect flying into the River Mersey.
It was December. It was freezing. It
BBC Sherlock - The Bored SongIf you're bored and you know it shoot a wall! (boom, boom)BBC Sherlock - The Bored Song3 years ago in Sketches More Like This
If you're bored and you know it shoot a wall! (boom, boom)
If you're bored and you know it, then your wall will surely show it,
if you're bored and you know it shoot a wall! (boom boom)
Tabletop PinnedTabletop Pinned3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"Oh…yes!" Sherlock shouted, clapping his hands together and smiling triumphantly. "Of course he would do that, he can't help but gain back the confidence he feels that he's lost from the castration so–oh yes! It all makes so much sense!"
"Sherlock! What makes sense?" Lestrade said, raising his voice in the hopes of shaking Sherlock from his excited daze.
"Collins is going to the place where it all happened. To him it's symbolic justice."
"Which is where…?" John asked, looking at Lestrade, equally bewildered by Sherlock's epiphany.
"Oh for God's sake. Have none of you been paying attention? The Tube!"
Lestrade's eyes widened and he immediately whipped his mobile from his pocket.
"I need a team at the South Kensington Tube station immediately. Yeah. It's urgent. We've got a embezzling murderer hiding out there, waiting for his next victim. Go. Hurry. I'll meet you there." He turned to Sherlock. "Any further tips on where to look?"
Sherlock scoffed. "Believe me. Not an
Incantations and Deductions Chapter ElevenChapter ElevenIncantations and Deductions Chapter Eleven3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
John makes his way to the Great Hall trying not to feel too downhearted. The beginning of fifth year has so far not been great: seeing Sherlock has churned up feelings that he doesn't want to examine too closely and which hadn't put him in the best of moods. Then his meeting with the head of Gryffindor had just been...well, shitty.
"I understand your desire to be back with your friends John, but you must understand that you attacked a fellow student in the midst of one of your nightmares. Now, whilst your Healers tell me you're improving they cannot guarantee that you won't relapse."
Arguing, John had realised, would have been pointless. The housemistress had been sympathetic but stern. It was an important year for everyone of his age at Hogwarts: they needed no distractions, least of all from one of their friends waking them up every night, screaming at things that weren't really there. John supposes he should just consider this as another case of 'taking one for the te
BBC Sherlock - Day ThreeSherlock Holmes sat cross-legged in his armchair, glaring at nothing.BBC Sherlock - Day Three4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
How? How did Lestrade manage to screw up that badly? He had let a psychologically unstable, symmetry-obsessed serial murderer slip through his fingers with the result that a fifth victim had been killed. And NOW his methodology was evolving, the previous four victims had been men in their early thirties; the latest one was a seventy year old woman who had gone to the surgery three days before the first murder for a check-up appointment after a face lift. And as the killer's technique changed, the harder it would be for Sherlock to anticipate his next move.
Sherlock tangled both his hands in his curly hair and yanked in an attempt to vent his frustration.
A small meow made him look up.
Dante, his great-aunt's kitten was sat on the arm of his chair, looking at him. This was unusual as the animal in question was widely thought of as the spiritual reincarnation of Caligula and had the very bad habit of biti
BBC Sherlock - Day TwoAs the sun was just starting to rise on London, Sherlock Holmes lay on the floor of 221B and stared upwards. His legs were propped up on the sofa with his back flat against the floor, his sharp eyes writing notes on the ceiling.BBC Sherlock - Day Two4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Cases: Dundas and Moran.
-Posed blood stains which are mirror images of each other.
Purpose: Unknown, possibly symbolic.
Motivation: Desire to send a message? Obsessive behaviour? Self-destructive leaving of clues in order to aid the capturing process?
Method of manufacturing: Unknown, difficult to pose liquids exactly. Created with a pipette or stencil? Maybe a frozen mould which is then thawed to create the shape? Ask Lestrade for Molly's results on the blood to see if there is evidence of temperature changes.
-The cosmetic surgery at the same clinic. Had the two men met?
Briefly rolling over to check the notes Lestrade had given him revealed they
BBC Sherlock - GladstoneDr. John Watson bounced eagerly on the balls of his feet, trying to fight the urge to start grinning like an idiot. He felt like a child on Christmas Eve, all delighted energy and frustration that things were moving too slowly. For goodness sake, I've invaded Afghanistan, I've been shot in war, killed a serial killer in cold blood and now I'm acting like a three year old hyper on sugar! He mentally berated himself, but found he was too happy to care really. Sometimes acting like a child is good for the soul.BBC Sherlock - Gladstone5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Sherlock Holmes looked sideways at him and couldn't quite stifle a small, indulgent smile. "You're mad, you know that?" He said, but his tone didn't match his words.
"Yeah." John beamed at him.
The smile widened and Sherlock looked away, shaking his head.
Currently they were stood in the waiting room of the local RSPCA centre, accompanied by a man with a flatulent parrot in a cage and a woman sat next to a carrier containing something that was either a ferret or an ewok. The
Sherlock-Criminal Mastermind 2John Watson sighed.Sherlock-Criminal Mastermind 24 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
He and Sherlock's breaking and entering attempt was not going well so far. He hadn't believed Sherlock when the man had initially told him that all criminal activities the great detective took part it always went disastrously wrong but he was swiftly coming to realise the truth behind Sherlock's words.
John had nearly had a panic attack at the sight of Milverton's pet snake, Sherlock had single-handedly destroyed half of the man's furniture and they had been here for over an HOUR and they STILL hadn't found the blackmail materials they were searching for.
The length of time that they had been illegally occupying the property whilst the owner was at the theatre was making Sherlock jumpy and as such he was having John stand look out whilst he searched Milverton's study alone. John knew it was a worthy task, but after a while it did become chronically dull.
He sighed again. Then, reaching onto Milverton's desk, he hefted a crystal paperweight in his hand and held it up
Incantations and Deductions Chapter TwelveThe expression of shocked surprise on Sherlock's face would almost be comical if John felt anything like laughing. Someone died after jumping from John's window: of course Sherlock would want to check out the room. Obviously Sherlock's surprised that anyone as 'dull and mundane' as John could have worked out his plans.Incantations and Deductions Chapter Twelve3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"John." Sherlock begins and then seems to just stop.
John rolls his eyes. "It's alright, I know why you're here, I'm not going to bother you, just wanted to make sure you didn't do any weird experiments on my stuff."
Sherlock just nods, seemingly nervous. He doesn't move; it's as if his feet are rooted to the rug he's standing on.
"Aren't you going to get on with it, then?" John asks. He knows his tone is blunt, and if he's honest, verging on rude, but he's not the one who has just broken into someone else's room. It seems especially egregious after nine months of no contact between the two of them.
"Well, I-" Sherlock starts again and then breaks off his eyes darting up
Incantations and Deductions Chapter TenChapter TenIncantations and Deductions Chapter Ten3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Panic moves like a lapping wave over the occupants of the Great Hall. Tension starts with one or two individuals, quickly spreading through the crowds as the band stops playing and an eerie, almost silent hysteria settles over the masses. Fear is amply communicated through wide eyed stares and startled expressions: at first everyone is too stunned to speak. But not for long. Amongst teenagers, who have the added pleasures of souped up hormones and peer pressure, the rumour and speculation spread like wildfire over barren shrub plains. Girls clutch each other in protective hugs, boys try not to look too terrified.
No one really speaks, however. Certainly people are whispering in stilted, trepidatious whispers but no one wants to be the first to ask anything at an audible level. And no one asks the obvious questions.
"Who is that?"
"What is happening to them?"
Mycroft isn't surprised he was able to apparate. He has gone from the corridor with the young French woman to the
BBC SH - Reunion - LestradeHis phone rang.BBC SH - Reunion - Lestrade3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Lestrade sighed and reached for it, noticing how Donovan looked over her shoulder at him from where she was driving the car. "Hello?"
"Sir," He recognised Evelyn's voice. Young, relatively new, he had recognised her potential when she first joined and helped her learn the ropes. As such Sergeant Evelyn 'Evie' Makepeace was fiercely loyal to him.
Even now after everything that had happened.
He sighed. "I'm not 'Sir' anymore Evie. I'm just Greg, remember?"
To her credit, Donovan tried not to look too smug at that.
"Whatever you say, Sir." Evie said, slightly darkly. "You need to get back, Sir. Fast."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"Someone you need to see."
" . . . You'll want to see for yourself, Sir."
"Wha . . . Look, alright . . . We're an hour and fifteen minutes away. Tell whoever it is they might want to go away and come back later."
There was a pause.
"He said he'd wait."
Lestrade frowned. That did sound odd. Informers never lingered long at the Yard for fear they mig
Sherlock-Criminal Mastermind 1John Watson stood in the doorway and stared.Sherlock-Criminal Mastermind 14 years ago in Humor More Like This
It was not unusual in itself for Sherlock Holmes to ignore him when he entered. John no longer took it personally; it was Sherlock's mind shutting out outside influences in order to help him think. Plus, to his credit, when Sherlock realised John was there he would throw out a hurried apology before asking for A) John's assistance on a case B) Someone to help him clear up an exploded experiment or C) A cup of tea. If John had done nothing else, he prided himself on teaching Sherlock some manners.
It was also not unusual for Sherlock to be engrossed in a variety of objects, be they of a case related or experimental nature. John had once come home from a long day at work to discover Sherlock energetically stabbing a dead pig which had been hung from the light fixtures. (When Sherlock had finished with it they had bacon sandwiches for tea. A scalpel is not wonderful for butchering purposes but when it's all that's available it can prove service
Incant and Deduct Chapter 9Chapter NineIncant and Deduct Chapter 94 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
John is determined.
This year will be different. He isn't going to let the incident affect his life anymore. It had happened nine months ago, it was time to get over it.
He's going to move back into the Gryffindor dorm. He is, he is. He's a fifth year now he can't sleep in his own cordoned off bedroom because he has pathetic nightmares. He'll be taking his O.W.Ls at the end of the year; he's damn well not going to wimp out, crying off due to illness.
It's not as if he's actually ill, really, the twinge in his leg is nothing, and yes, he has a hideous scar on his shoulder but the physical therapy he's been doing over summer has meant that he has managed to strengthen his muscles. He might even make it back onto the Quidditch team; they've been doing abysmally since John has been unable to fulfil his role as keeper. And he's been doing really well getting back to the old John Watson, the Quidditch keeper and good friend, rather than the shadowy stranger he had bec
Words Can Kill - BBC Sherlock pt.1 They always screamed horrible things at him. He was used to it, and he could usually ignore it, just brush it off, and never give it a second thought. It was nothing new to him to be hated because he was different, because he scared people with all he knew, all he could tell about them. That simply was how his life worked. Seventeen years of hatred toward him, for no good reason, be it from his mother and father, or his class mates and teachers, or even strangers, he was used to it. But this time the words got to him; this time he could not simply brush them off, or simply ignore them. They were ringing in his head from the moment he heard them until he was sitting up in his room, hours later, alone, while his parents ate dinner.Words Can Kill - BBC Sherlock pt.13 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He tried everything he could to silence his mind, but at the best
The Detective and His Blogger12:00The Detective and His Blogger3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I'm at work Sherlock.
I'm aware of your location.
I mean I'm busy.....
No you're on break.
That's beside the point. I could be busy.
But you're not. And I'm bored.
So do an experiment or something.
So drop by Bart's and ask Molly for something. I'm sure she would love to see you.
Yes. But I'd rather not see her.
That's not nice Sherlock.
No it isn't. But why is that relevant?
Why do I bother?
Bother with what?
Nothing. Never mind.
John have you ever thought about us in a romantic sense?
Where the hell did that come from?!
Ms. Hudson just came up. Made a comment about the two of us being so sweet together when she saw I was texting you at the clinic. Everyone else seems to think of us as more than friends.Just curious.
Oh. Well yeah. I suppose.
And I think it sounds
BBC Sherlock - Rugby and ChaosJohn Watson was so drunk that if you put a wick in his mouth and lit it the sheer amount of alcohol in his system meant that he would probably burn for a fortnight or more.BBC Sherlock - Rugby and Chaos4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
His old regiment was back from Afghanistan on leave and some of the soldiers, both active and discharged, had decided to meet for a round of drinks and a catch up.
As soon as the small, tawny-haired man walked through the door of the Dozy Panda pub (bizarrely enough considering the unorthodox name it was largely frequented by military personnel as the food was good, the alcohol cheap and the landlord was a very strange man who provided much amusement . . .) he had been greeted with a bellowing round of cheers from his fellow soldiers and he couldn't have stopped his massive smile if he had tried. The relief upon seeing so many familiar faces was absolutely great.
John, being the amiable man that he was, was well liked amongst the soldiers particularly because, out of the twenty seven men in the room, he had saved fo