Wreak This JournalWhen you have grown accustomed to the general clutter that is practically attached to the younger Holmes, it is natural to assume that the older is also as untidy. Sherlock's flat is a mass of papers, case files, and, during one memorable drugs bust, body parts. I don't know how John can stand it sometimes.
So, when Mycroft finally asked me if I wanted to move in with him I was exited and slightly terrified. I had never seen his home before which is kind of weird when we have been dating for almost a year but I hadn't brought it up, fearing that it could be classified data and that he would have to kill me after telling me. Fortunately I survived and noticed that, as well as the spaciousness of the flat, it was impeccably clean. No sheep's intestines in the freezer, no dead octopuses in the bath, everything was where it should be. That's when I noticed it.
Mycroft is a clean freak.
No, freak is the wrong word. He is obsessed with keeping things in unnatural order. Several times
Some Summer"Some summer, eh?"Some Summer3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"I mean come on, we've only had like a week of warm weather."
"Stop exaggerating John."
"Oh, so now you're talking to me?"
Blackberry keys started clacking at an inhuman pace.
"Sherlock, how long will this 'silent treatment' last? It's becoming quite childish."
Sherlock continued texting angrily, presumably to Lestrade. He had hardly put the phone down since we entered the flat.
"Come on Sherlock, I've said I'm sorry about a million times!"
"I hope this isn't going to become a habit with you John." Sherlock mumbled, barely lifting his gaze from the mobile.
"Sherlock, it was an accident. It's not as if I did it deliberately just to spite you."
"Tea?" asked the taller of the two as he unfolded himself from his armchair and made his way into the kitchen. John just sighed and fished out his paper while he waited for his flatmate to return, no way was he going to drop this so easily.
As predicted Sherlock entered the living room with two mugs of steaming tea out
Kiriban- All's Fair..."You arrogant bastard!"Kiriban- All's Fair...3 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"You self-centered, conceited, immature, ungrateful, demea-"
"If that's your best comeback, you shouldn't be allowed the privilege of speech!"
"You're one to talk! The best thing you could come up with is bastard?"
John Watson stood in the doorway to the kitchen, shaking violently in a rather unsuccessful attempt to quit laughing.
"Honestly, for having the intellect you do, I expect more from you, petit frère."
"Saying it in French does not make it better."
"Yes it does."
"It does not!"
"You're being childish."
"You're the one who came, from halfway across London and a rather important state meeting, just to berate me for my attitude."
"How is that childish?"
"It's you I You " Sherlock struggled for words.
Mycroft grinned, the self-satisfied smile of one who has sufficiently rendered his opponent speechless. Sherlock wanted to, for lack of a more scientific term, wipe the look off his brothers face. This whole conversation bega
Everything is Not as it Seems part 2Sherlock climbed the stairs to their flat in silence, leaving John to pay the cabbie and catch up to him. Moriarty was alive. The man he had seen hanged was nothing more than a stand in. A proxy. A fake. The realization was crushing.Everything is Not as it Seems part 22 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Inside the living room Sherlock fell over the back of the sofa, rolling onto the cushions to lay, his long body sprawled across the piece of furniture as if he couldn't be bothered to right himself. John followed him up the stairs and stood over the sofa for a moment, trying to decide whether it would be worth it to ask his flatmate what had just happened. Finally giving in to his curiosity he walked around the sofa and took his place in front of Sherlock.
"Alright, speak." he ordered, arms crossed over his chest.
"Don't feel like it." Sherlock replied gruffly.
John sighed and rolled his eyes but refused to back down. "What happened in there? What did Noel tell you?"
Sherlock returned the sigh with one far heavier and sat up. "He told me that we
London to Edinburgh I"Yes!" Exclaimed the consulting detective, jumping over the coffee table, clutching the letter tightly.London to Edinburgh I2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Another case?" called John from the kitchen.
"Oh no John, this isn't just another case." Sherlock grinned, waving the letter in his flatmates face. "This is an exceptional case."
Deciding to indulge his curiosity, John abandoned his attempt to make tea and turned to face the taller man who was now re-reading his letter. "And what makes this case so much more interesting than the others?"
"It's in Scotland. Edinburgh to be precise."
John shifted his weight and tried to look uninterested. "Oh. Has someone been murdered?"
Sherlock took no notice of this as he was now twirling around the kitchen explaining that the crown from Edinburgh castle had been stolen then replaced a few days later then stolen again. John listened patiently, all the while hoping Sherlock would not pay any attention to him. If Sherlock laid his eyes on him he would calculate everything in a nanosecond.
Everything is Not as it Seems part 1Part 1Everything is Not as it Seems part 12 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Please read the intro first or none of this will make sense!
The cab ride to the prison was long and unbearably quiet. Sherlock seemed caught up in his own little world and John couldn't help but wonder what had made him so upset. He knew as well as anyone could that Sherlock didn't like his brother meddling with his affairs but it wasn't as if Mycroft had used his new relationship with Lestrade in any way. In fact, in the two months Lestrade had been out of the hospital they had barely seen him. If Mycroft had been planning on using him as a spy John suspected they would have been seeing the Detective Inspector much more often. If anything it seemed like the new romance was keeping Mycroft out of their hair.
Of course there could always be some reason that the good doctor didn't know about. Perhaps Sherlock was...well maybe he was jealous. He rarely talked about his sex-life or even what interested him so it was entirely possible that Sherlock had a bit of a thing for
Bad Boys"Mr Sherlock Holmes?"Bad Boys3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I looked up from screen of my laptop and the sight that I saw nearly caused me to fall off my bed completely. John was leaning nonchalantly on the doorframe chewing on the end of a pencil and reading a chart, but it was not what he was doing that made my heart pound in my chest. John was wearing nothing but a blue surgeons cap and a rather tight pair of scrub trousers, topped off with a stethoscope draped around his neck. I closed my laptop and laid it down on the floor. The case would be fine for a few hours.
"I would prefer it if my patients called me Doctor Watson." He murmured, still not looking up from his chart.
"What does it say," I asked silkily, "Doctor Watson?"
He looked up at me then, biting down on the pencil to try and hide a grin that was tugging the corners of his mouth. "Nothing but good things I assure you." I smiled as he smoothly walked over to the foot of my bed. "Though I would like to check up on a few things."
"Oh, like what?"
Everything is Not as it Seems intro"Sherlock I'm home!" John called up the stairs to the flat. He didn't really expect any kind of greeting in return but the warning allowed Sherlock a few minuts to clean up whatever experiments he was conducting before John actually walked through the door. It was a habit he had developed after coming home one day to find Sherlock dissecting a victims cat on the kitchen table.Everything is Not as it Seems intro2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Luckily for John it seemed the consulting detective had not been in the middle of any kind of dangerous or disgusting experiments. In fact, he seemed to have opted for a relatively normal afternoon of sitting on the sofa and reading one of John's books even though he had deemed them all "dull" months ago when John had first unpacked them.
But of course it couldn't be that simple. It never was with Sherlock. And while little could startle the good doctor anymore he had to admit he was surprised to see a teenage girl sitting in his chair.
"Um...good afternoon?" he asked, passing by her to take the groceries he was
RestSherlock sits on the couch, his chin rests on his knees. He lazily wonders around the room with his eyes. Tiredness makes his face grey and lack of sleep turned his sharp gaze into dim chips of coal. The adrenalin of the recent chase has almost vanished and only sluggishness stays with the detective.Rest2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Sherlock closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He will never admit this aloud, but he really wants to rest.
Heavy and fogged thoughts slowly cross his mind, tangling his conscious. One lock of his dark hair tickles his cheek. The sudden cold touches Sherlock's bare feet.
His head slips down on the chest, causing pain in his neck.
Suddenly something warm covers his body. A blanket. John's. Because it has a unique smell. John's smell. Sherlock's amazing mind protests of another attempting to think.
The detective wants to open his mouth to say something, but his tongue has become very lazy and incredibly heavy.
The blanket has never been so welcoming and warm. It's because it belongs to Jo
The Grains Of Time Fall Quick For YouHis life fluid pouring out of the gaping wound, whilst frantic hands grasped to try postpone the flow. How had it come to this? Was this destiny, fate? Surely it could not be, such purity shouldn't have to terminate so early. Of course, he was moving on in age, but for them... it had only been a few years. They both cast their minds back to previous events. Things that had altered their lives forever.The Grains Of Time Fall Quick For You2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Sorry, who are you?"
"Mycroft Holmes. I do believe you are giving my younger brother work, is that correct?"
"Oh god there's two of you..."
Then the spark ignited. As to be expected, they were not aware at this point in time. This was after all just the beginning for them. From then on, meetings became frequent. Topics of conversation mainly revolved around the younger Holmes. But it wasn't long before they indulged on their own personal lives. It had begun.
Months later, one Gregory Lestrade plucked up the courage to ask him out to dinner. Honoured, and face flushed with embar
Mystrade Fanfiction: Personalized DeductionsEverything started with a murder. To be fair, with Sherlock Holmes it always did. Funny thing though, John mused as he stood at the side of the crime scene, that it was not what actually attracted the attention of the consulting detective. DI Lestrade did. Not for long, but enough to leave John very confused. He looked around, not really taking in all the blood and an image of Sherlock dashing about from the victim's car to the body and back. Instead, he found himself occupied with thoughts about the talk he had with the consulting detective merely five minutes prior.Mystrade Fanfiction: Personalized Deductions1 year ago in Romance More Like This
"Lestrade is wearing a new shirt." Sherlock announced as soon as they neared the barrier of yellow tape.
John followed his friend's gaze and looked at the DI in thoughtful consideration.
"So?" He frowned, glancing from one man to the other. Lestrade, he noticed, was wearing an ordinary white shirt as he always did. "Why does it matter?"
"It does not," Sherlock replied shortly, ducking under the tape and, ignoring Sergeant
BathwaterJohn's neck was hot and damp and something rocked against his chin, spilling past his lips. Confused he took an experimental swallow and immediately choked. His eyes snapped open, wide with surprise, and he began to cough violently, gasping for air. The water slapped over the rim of the bath, splashing onto the bathroom floor. John blinked, puzzled: how on earth had he gotten there?Bathwater2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He looked down at himself. His torso and arms were bare and prickly, and there was a bruise on his abdomen, just below his ribcage but just above his stomach, that flowered sorely. To his relief he was wearing trousers, denim jeans that had turned black and heavy from the water and thus made it difficult to move his legs. His feet were naked. He at last winced at the heat of the bath water.
Sherlock came in, crumbs on his mouth and the remnants of a toast slice in his hand. He looked closely at his friend, then at the sodden tiles and back again. He smiled with relief.
"Oh, good, you didn't drown then," he
Raindrops Warning! I wrote Mystrade again.Raindrops3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
In a town that's cold and gray
We will have a sunny day
Don't you know that I
Belong arm in arm with you
Gregory Lestrade had seen worse days. In fact, if he looked back on his life, counting the ups and downs, the curves and dips, the never ending parade of things that tried his patience and reminded him why life was worth living, this was a relatively minor day. But it was raining.
He supposed it should be ironic that he, a born and bred Londoner, hated the rain. It felt too much like tears running down the back of his neck, reminding him of cold cases and jobs not yet finished. Tears cried by those who would never have answers.
Karen was leaving him. He'd known for a while, the way her perfume lingered on nights he'd be working late, the rowdy friends calling for clubbing, her insistence that he worked too much. Fifteen years of marriage, and suddenly she decided he wasn't worth the wait. Wasn't worth the hassle. The divo
May I Have This Revenge?"May I have this revenge?"May I Have This Revenge?3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
A Sherlock fanfiction
Mentions of Mystrade and hints of Sherlock/John
Summary: Mycroft and Lestrade decide to get back at Sherlock for annoying them by sending John a link to a certain video
Sherlock liked days like these. Which was surprising really, considering how horrifyingly domestic the scene was. Well, as domestic as it could get in the life of one Sherlock Holmes; the one and only consulting detective.
He was comfortable cuddled up in the corner of the couch that he had claimed to be 'his spot', fiddling with his phone, sending the occasional text to piss off either Mycroft or Lestrade (or both if he was right on their recent developed interest in each other, which of course, he was) with crap telly as comfortably annoying background noise.
John was in his own spot, leaning back lazily against the back of his chair, while typing away on his laptop. Probably adding the final touches to his latest blog. Ah yes, there it was. That decidedly final t
Oneword: DeskOneword: Desk2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Lestrade sighed as he parked his motorcycle in the alley next to his new apartment. Hurrying inside before the brooding clouds overhead decided to open fire, he ducked in the door-frame and checked his mail. A couple bills greeted him, alongside a firm white envelope marked with the royal seal. Curious, he hung his riding jacket up and brought the mail into the kitchen. The bills could be dealt with later; the unusual envelope would be his reading material over dinner.
The kippers and crackers were a sorry contrast to the fancy penmanship that greeted him under the heading, "From the desk of Mycroft Holmes."
Squinting to make out the letters hidden in the loopy scrawl, Lestrade could make out what appeared to be an invitation. A garden party? Greg never got invited to these sorts of events, and he wasn't sure that now was the time to start. He would have to have a word with Mycroft about dragging commoners and policemen into the posh world of the parliament.
Although, Greg conceded sil