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Robert Terwilliger, otherwise known as Sideshow Bob had a frown on his face as he looked up at the banner on the outside of a building that said "Springfield Gamers, Video Game Convention" on it. He sighed as he looked down. "Why did I let myself get talked into this?" he asked in a thinking out-loud way.

"Because if you said no, your only son would throw a fit." came the voice of his younger brother Cecil who was standing beside him. The two had been dragged here by their sons Gino and William who as it turned out were really into video games which the two boys played quite a lot much to their fathers dismay.

"I am never going to understand these things or our sons weird obsession with them, for that matter." Bob stated to his brother as he crossed his arms. "I doubt any parent really does." Cecil added before he started to head inside the building, with Bob following him in.

Inside there was many tables set up and areas with stands that had people on them, talking. "Egad, how do they expect anyone to get around?" Bob commented upon seeing all of this madness. "I'm not quite sure." Cecil replied.

The two criminal brothers walked around, looking at each stand and table they briefly stopped at. Of course being into the arts nothing got their interest. "This is such a complete waste of time." Bob stated. "I agree." Cecil said in agreement. "Where are the boys?" Bob asked and Cecil pointed. "There." he said as he spotted them at a video game testing area. "Great." Bob grumbled.

Soon a voice called out "Hey there everyone and welcome to the con!" which made the brothers turn to see who it was as they both quickly recognized the voice. It was a 20 year old young man with blonde hair wearing a red shirt that had a skateboard on it, blue jeans and red sneakers who was standing on a stand area that had a big screen on it and some other equipment.

"Is that...Bart Simpson?" Bob asked with some surprise in his voice. "Appears so dear brother." Cecil replied. The two brother walked over, becoming part of the big crowd that was there.

"He certainly has changed since high school." Bob commented. "I heard that he's now a professional skateboarder." Cecil stated. "Really?" Bob asked. "Well he was always quite good on that thing." he said. "I also heard that he opened up a skate park for the children here in Springfield." Cecil added. "The boy's been busy." Bob said with a small hint of impressiveness in his voice. "Indeed." Cecil said in agreement.

"Well everyone glad to see all of you." Bart said into the microphone. "How everyone like my last game?" he asked and got many cheers for a reply. "How can he make video games?" Bob asked with skepticism in his voice. "His little girlfriend must of helped him." Cecil replied, referring to Mr. Burns' granddaughter Fiona or Fi as Bart called her. The two resident troublemakers had been going out since they were both ten and Fiona had became Bob's enemy not long after she started going out with Bart.

"That wouldn't surprise me." said Bob who knew that Fiona sometimes used her grandfather's money or resources to get what she or Bart wanted or to use against other people like Bob and even Cecil. The younger brother had devolved a grudge against the Burns' heir after she foiled Cecil's scheme to get control of the Power Plant.

"Ok, well I got a new game coming out and no it's not going to be a motion controlled one. I am not making the same dumb move as Tony Hawk." Bart said to the audience which got some laughter. "In fact this game isn't dealing with skateboarding at all." Bart added which got some of the con goers talking to each other.

"Instead this game will be dealing with some things from my childhood." Bart explained which caused Bob to raise an eyebrow. What from his childhood could of inspired Bart to make a video game of it? The screen then turned on revealing the game's title. Bob's eyes widen. The game title had his name on it and an image of him.

Bart then started to explain the game as some game footage was shown. Apprantly you had to figure out what Bob was up to in each level and stop his plan along with causing him injury by letting a rake be in his way, among other things and also pulling various pranks on him whenever he was in a public area. Bob's eyes narrowed in an angry way as he listened.

Bart then got to the bonus levels which is where the player took control of Bob and try to maneuver through a field of rakes which was easier said then done as the early game footage showed. Bob shook a bit while everyone else minus his brother laughed at what they saw.

Cecil glanced at Bob as he made his hands into a fist and got an angry, evil, murderess like look on his face. A look he hadn't had in the last four years. Cecil easily guessed what was going to happen next after seeing that and it wasn't going to be good.

Bob looked at Bart who was laughing along with the people there. 'Laugh now, Bart Simpson cause today will be the last day of your life.' the criminal genius thought to himself as he started to come up with a way to kill his arch-enemy.
:iconreadplz: :iconpointsstamp1::iconpointsstamp2: :iconreadcplz1::iconreadcplz2::iconreadcplz3:

Note: Please do not download this story unless you just plan to read it. If you want to draw a pic that deals with my fan-fic in some way (like drawing a scene from this) then you can do so as long as you credit me especially if one of my ocs is in it.

Pic credited to Schattencyra [link]

Here it is everyone. Chapter one of my 10 Years Later story A Bob Con. Sorry if it's short. I'm saving the good stuff for chapter two. Some of the stuff mentioned in this chapter (and likely in later chapters) takes place during my main Simpsons fan-fic series called New Residents which deals with Fiona's move to Springfield as well as my other ocs moving to the town for whatever reason they have. Also you may of noticed that Bart's outfit is a bit similar to his 10 year old one. I figured with the career I gave him, his sense of style wouldn't change much but at the same time wanted to show that there was some change that makes him not the same as when he was ten.

Bart Simpson, Sideshow Bob, Cecil Tewilliger and Gino Tewilliger created by Matt Groening

Fiona "Fi" Burns and William Terwilliger created by me
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John limped up the stairs into his flat and entered the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. He had just paid his daily visit to Sherlock's grave, and that always made him depressed.
When the tea was done, he limped heavily into the living room and turned on the telly. He'd never liked crap telly much, but he watched it now as much for nostalgia's sake as just to have noise in the room. It wasn't the same without Sherlock in his armchair yelling at the screen, though. But it was the best he had, and he could imagine all the times Sherlock had gotten angry at some stupid program that John hadn't even been paying attention to.
"Well, is he the boy's father?" John asked of an empty room. When only silence answered him, as it had for the past three years, John sighed and leaned against the back of the couch. He pulled Sherlock's old blue dressing gown over him for warmth, and fell asleep to the sound of the telly.
"You kept that old thing?" John woke with a start at the voice. He knew he had to be dreaming. It couldn't be him! How could it? He had seen him jump, had been at the funeral. He didn't dare open his eyes, for fear it was his imagination.
"Three years I'm gone, and this is the welcome I get?" He couldn't dream up that cynicism no matter how hard he tried, so John opened his eyes. Jet-black curly hair and piercing blue eyes he had dreamed about every night for three years were there in front of him. John practically leapt off the couch in shock.
"You- you were dead. I saw you. I felt your pulse. You were dead!" John was yelling by the end of his sentence. Sherlock put up his hands placatingly and took a step back.
"Look, I wish I hadn't had to do this. I'm sorry-"
"You're sorry?" said John, moving forward. "Do you know what I've had to live with for the past three years? Do you? Do you have any idea what you did to Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade, and your brother? Do you have any idea what you did to me?!" Sherlock began to stammer out an apology in an attempt to get John to listen, but John was too fast for him. He punched Sherlock hard in the side of the face, and Sherlock fell onto the table. Holding his hand to his cheek, he rose slowly, saying, "I suppose I deserved-" but again John moved too fast for him. He grabbed Sherlock's coat lapels, pulling him upright, and kissed a stunned Sherlock full on the mouth. Sherlock's astonishment lasted only a moment before he returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around John.
John pulled away suddenly, and Sherlock looked almost disappointed, though thoroughly stunned at what had just happened: both the punch and what had happened after. They stood staring at each other for a moment before John broke the silence.
"Shall I make some tea?"
My version of what the first episode of the next BBC Sherlock season should be, because we all know this is what is going to happen. XDXD

Because Johnlock. *headdesk*

I do not own any of the characters!!!!!! Copyright belongs to the beautiful Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, and whoever else owns Sherlock Holmes. <3
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You never thought one of your dreams would come true and you never thought it would take you face-to face with the man who was known as The God of Mischief.

It all started an hour ago, you are in ( whatever year of schooling you're in) in (state) and life seems great on the outside, on the inside you are a mess. You feel lonely and are starting to give up hope in a man, you only knew through British television. If you are thinking of the same man then we are on the same page, this man is a dream to many dreamers in the world. Though tonight, that dream of many others and your dreams kind of are coming true. It is hard to believe in the man called The Doctor, but you always try to keep that spark going with continuous re-runs of the show. To get back on track, you were just lying there in your bed, still in the clothes from the previous day. You had your phone lying on your chest, softly playing a tune by (your favorite band), while kicking the string back and forth on your (shoes). You had finished your homework for your classes that day and hoped that (school)  wouldn't be this boring. As you laid there in thought, a strange noise came from the space between your bed and your closet, you looked over thinking it was the heating vent. Then suddenly a box like outline began to form there in your room, you sat up in a panicked rush. Your mind raced as the form became clearer and clearer and the noise increased in volume.
"No…This has to be a dream." You spoke aloud, your voice shook slightly like the rest of your body did.
As the noise silenced, the form was completely solid and standing right in front of you, you rose from the bed slowly. You were terrified thinking if you got to close to it, that it would vanish into thin air and you would wake up. You inched toward it slowly, stopping suddenly when the sound of the door being unlocked rang through the silence of your bedroom.  The door swung open and a tall man came out with his back to you waving smoke away from his face.
"Blimey! Her Engines are out of wacked. Wonder where I landed?" he coughed out.
"Doctor?" you mumbled softly not believing your eyes, once you spoke he turn around and looked right at you.
"Hmm… American! Oh! So I'm in America .I like America." He said breaking out into a huge grin looking at you.
"Yes… you are in (state), in my bedroom."
"(state)?! Why has she brought me to(state)?" He groaned slightly and looked at the police box, "And He engines are down…I have to give her a few hours."
He turned back to you, as the fire alarm in your room went off detecting the smoke; you looked up shocked then stumbled over to the window.
"Shit!" you grumbled throwing the window open, hoping the alarm would turn off now.
"Oi! That's loud!" He shouted pulling out an object and pointing it at the fire alarm, and within seconds the noise stopped.
"How you… Oh yeah sonic screwdriver…"  you explained nodding slowly, seeing the screwdriver much better now.
"Yeah it is…How do you know about my screwdriver?" He said with concern.
"Uhhh…"  you shuddered, feeling the heat grow in your cheeks; you didn't know what to tell him and the shock started to set in again. "…Uhh I kind of watch you on the TV."
"I'm on the tele'?!" He said turning to the TV, and flipping it on with his screwdriver.
"Yes…On the show Britain created." you said as he flipped through the channels till he stopped on BBC America, where ironically a commercial for Doctor Who was on. "It's called Doctor Who… and it's all about you, Doctor."  
He watched the commercial with a frown then flung open the door of the phone box and ran inside to the control panel. You walked over to the door and peered in, and gasped softly taking a full step in.
"This has to be a parallel universe or has to be a break in the rift! Oi you!" He shouted from the control panel.
"Yeah?" You looked over at the strange call
"What's your name?" He said giving you a stern look.
"(Your name)" you walked a little more, taking in the new sight before you. "But is that relevant, Doctor?"
"What year is it?!" He shouted looking at a screen on the control panel, "Have you had any contact with aliens or a UFO?"
You looked over and shook your head noticing he put on glasses, "No No, and its 2013 and nothing big happened lately."
He looked over with a strange look, and then pointed his screwdriver at you, causing you to rear back in shock.
"Hey! Don't point that at me!" you shouted stomping over to him.
"Just checking to see if it's you that caused her to break down and land here." He said pointing it at your forehead.
You glared at him and pushed the screwdriver away "No, Doctor I didn't… I'm a normal (your age) year old trying to go to school and try not to think I'm crazy right now."

Just then a sound came from the Tardis, like a kick start and the door closed behind the both of you; you looked at the Doctor as the ship started to thrashing about.
"What did you do?!" you shouted clinging to one of the bar, as the ship continued to thrash about.
"What did I do?!" He protested back at you grabbing on to the control panel.
"YES! What did you do Doctor?!" you retorted back get thrown to the floor as the Tardis reared to a stop.
"Oi! This wasn't happening till I landed in (state)! And YOU got on Broad!" He shouted pointing at you and he played with the controls, and then looked at the mentor.
You stood up slowly and holding on to the bar trying to get your balance, "Where are we? Why did she take us here?" you questioned looking over his shoulder at the mentor.
"She didn't bring us here…" he said stepping taking off his glasses and looking at the mentor "Someone else brought us here…"
"But Doctor, where is here?" you looked at him with a frown.
"We are on Asgard." He said looking at you with slight concern.
A Doctor Who and Avenger crossover staring you! Enjoy!
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He's a genius. A bloody brilliant man and easily the smartest in London – Hell, maybe even the world… yet he can't even see the most obvious thing in the world even if I shove it in his face and scream it at him… John thought sadly as he watched the amazing arrogant bastard as he lay on the couch, his hands pressed together and rested against his lips. His eyes scanned the ceiling lazily as he thought, his body so relaxed and his mind so sharp. He turned back to the pile of dishes that sat in front of him, picking up the rag next to the sink and drying the plate in his hand, running slow, small circles on the glassware. Will he ever see..?

"John," Sherlock's sharp voice cut into his thoughts, making John jump slightly and snap his attention to the detective at once. "Stop thinking, will you?"

"Wha'?" John asked, his face turning the lightest shade of pink.

"Stop thinking, it's too loud and annoying. I'm trying to figure something out which I can't do when you're thinking such loud thoughts."

"Right, of course," John replied slowly, turning back to the dish in his hand and reaching up, placing it in the cabinet with a sigh. "Can't have that."

"Glad you see it the way I do, John," Sherlock sneered, falling quiet again.

The flat was silent except for the clinking of dishes as John worked. He got halfway through before Sherlock sighed heavily, stood – his bathrobe falling around his figure, lazily tied around his waist – and walked over the coffee table. John watched him with quizzical eyes as Sherlock reached for the fridge, opened the door and started searching through the bottom shelves.

"What are you lo-?" John started before Sherlock sighed and snapped the door closed, some of the contents in the fridge shifting and some obviously falling to the bottom of the unit.

"I'm going to the store," Sherlock grunted, heading up to his room. John heard the snap of the door closing and raised an eyebrow up the stairs in that direction.

What is he doing? John mused, turning back to the dishes. Maybe he'll finally do the shopping… He couldn't stop the small laugh at that that bubbled up through his throat. Sherlock? Shopping? Yeah, like that would ever happen.

Footsteps on the stairs made John turn to see Sherlock trotting down them, messing with the collar of his tight light green shirt. He pulled his coat on over the ensemble before coming back into the kitchen. "Am I correct in thinking you want me to pick up milk and bread while I'm there?" Sherlock asked, checking the fridge once again, John's mouth falling open at the question. Sherlock turned his gaze to John, still doubled over in the fridge. "John?"

"Huh? Oh, yes, if you can?" John said, closing his mouth. "T-that would be great, thank you, Sherlock."

Sherlock grunted, closed the door of the fridge and went to the door. "I'll be back," he called over his shoulder before the door shut closed behind him.

John sighed heavily into the empty flat, drying his hands and abandoning the remaining pile of dishes. Throwing the rage towards the edge of the sink, he moved into the sitting room and sat in his armchair, picking up the paper. A picture of Sherlock ducking away from the camera painted the third page in black and white, and John couldn't help but smile. The grimace on his face, the way his arm was around John's shoulder and pulling his quickly through the crowd, his other hand half way shoved into the camera lens in an attempt to block out the shot; John though it was the cutest thing in the world. He smiled as he stared at the picture of his best friend, unable to turn the page. He almost didn't hear the baritone voice that sounded from the doorway.

"Is there a reason you're staring and smiling at that picture of me, John?" Sherlock asked as the door opened slightly, him reaching in to grab his wallet that he left on the coffee table.

"What? N-no! I was reading the article! That's all," John muttered, the excuse rolling past his lips quickly.

"And you're smiling because-?" Sherlock prompted.

"W-well, I mean… look at your face! It's… it's funny," John stammered, waving his hand over the picture. "I mean… you look like you just ate a tart lemon or something." He let a dry chuckle pass his lips, no heat really behind it.

"Yes, yes, I know, but it's the best picture they're going to get of me," Sherlock waved off. He nodded at John before he let the door shut behind him.

John sighed in relief as he heard the door shut, shutting the paper. That was close, he thought, shaking his head. Why couldn't he just tell Sherlock that he liked him? He hinted plenty of times, so why couldn't the arrogant bastard figure it out? It would just be so much easier if he knew.
This is the prize that :iconhushedjournal6: asked for for being my 100th watcher :)

Very interesting prompt, will be here and on my archive of our Own (user is the same on here) in case I wish to get a little mature and you guys can't view it or something ^^;


part two: [link]
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Sherlock: Is It Not Obvious?

Chapter Five: "Yes, I am in love with Sherlock,"

John couldn't concentrate on Lestrade, the feelings were great but that was all it was a reaction to action. John couldn't enjoy Lestrade's mouth on him or the feeling of Lestrade's hands brushing over his chest. It wasn't only that John couldn't get over the one thought circling in his brain, a single name, Sherlock.

A tingling in John chest told him he needed to stop ignoring what Sherlock meant to him, not a crush anymore, maybe it never was. I am in love with Sherlock aren't I? John thought and found him suppressing the urge to cry. He knew the truth deep down and he knew he needed to talk to Sherlock about it, numbing the pain with Lestrade wouldn't be enough and it would ruin their friendship, John knew it would.

"Lestrade wait," John said pushing at Lestrade's shoulders; the other man took a breath before pulling himself up away from John.

"What is it?" Lestrade asked, his hair a mess, face flushed and his chest expanding hard.

"I think we should, I just-" John pulled himself slowly out from underneath Lestrade feeling exposed, Lestrade sat back giving John space and John could have sworn he saw relief wash over the other man's features.

"It's alright we don't have to do anything like that yet, maybe can just cuddle on the sofa and watch a movie?" Lestrade smiled as if that was alright but John knew he wouldn't say yes.

"Greg, I am flattered and I do like you but,"

"But you don't want to be with me," Lestrade finished John's sentence watching the smaller man turn red and John adverts his eyes.

"I am sorry," Lestrade reached over and touched John's hand lightly to comfort him almost, "It is quite alright mate, I understand," John looks up and reaches over for his shirt and jumper laying on the floor.

"Thank you; I just don't want you to hate me, I really do like you but as a friend really." John stood from the couch and pulled on his shirt sloppily.

Lestrade followed suit he stood to pull on his shirt, "Everything is alright, and we can still be friends." Lestrade's tone was reassuring to John, who now pulled his jumper over his head messing up his hair worse than before.

"I do have to ask one question though," Lestrade said and John turned to him feeling uneasy about so many things, though it did help to see that Lestrade was smiling. John didn't want to hurt the other man or lose their friendship or worse make things awkward whenever they were around each other.  

"Alright?" John said and Lestrade shifted his feet, "Is there someone else?"

John felt his heart squeeze at the question and he would rather peel his own face off then admit to Lestrade but he knew he owed the man something.

"I- yes there is, I'm sorry, I just loved him before you kissed me," John looked away shyly and Lestrade found it slightly amusing that John was finally coming out with it.  

"It is Sherlock then?" Lestrade said and John felt his face burn, "Yes, I am in love with Sherlock," John found he could say it aloud, a weight lifted from his shoulders and he took a deep breath.

"You should tell him that," Lestrade said and John moved to hold himself, "I don't think Sherlock wants to hear that from me," Lestrade sat back down on his couch and watched John.

"Sherlock deserves to know, I know he's a bit strange but I'm sure deep, deep down he has feelings and I think it is worth a try." Lestrade says and John thinks for a moment, the possibilities were either devastating or wondrous. Maybe there could be a middle ground somewhere, maybe Sherlock wouldn't hate me for being so ordinary and falling in love with him, John thought.

"Alright, I'll try to tell him then." John looks to Lestrade who was smiling still, "You should go now, beat the traffic," Lestrade urged and John found himself smiling back to the other man before bending down to give Lestrade an awkward hug.

Lestrade gave him a reassuring squeeze watching John shrug on his coat to leave his flat.

Lestrade then fell back to lie on his couch and pulled out his phone to text Mycroft.

I think it worked; John is on his way to Sherlock. GL

A few minutes pass before Mycroft texts back.

Right, I set up my dominos as well; now let us cross our fingers. MH

Lestrade smiled then texted back.

Now get over to my flat I need you. GL

A quick text came back making Lestrade rolls his eyes at the words, Mycroft could be so clueless sometimes.

Are you alright? MH

Sex, genius, I want sex so get here now. GL

I am only too happy to oblige, see you soon. MH

Lestrade sighed contently hoping things would go alright with Sherlock and John.


Sherlock was ready to leave not looking back with his stomach clenching when he was but a step out of the flat door and was met by John rushing into him. Off balance Sherlock stumbled back into the flat gripping John's shoulders hard enough to make the other man flinch.



Both of them said at the same time until silence took over the moment. They stood there Sherlock with his hands firmly gripping John's shoulders, and John just staring up to Sherlock surprised.

"How did you get here so fast?" Sherlock asked and John blinked at him, "What are you talking about?" John watches Sherlock's eyes flicker to the closed laptop.

"Sherlock what is it?" asked John, watching Sherlock's eyes come back to focus on him, "You- you were with Lestrade," John felt his face blaze all over.

"How did-" John started but was cut off by Sherlock, "What happened with you two?"

John swallowed hard, "Well we sort of broke up, if we were ever going out," John looked shyly at his shoes.

"Broke up you two were all over each other," Sherlock said his eyes narrowing, John's own eyes shot up to look at Sherlock, "How did you- were you watching us or something?"

Sherlock looked to the side his eyes searching as if he was reading something in a fast pace, John brings his hand up to touch Sherlock's coat covered chest to get his attention.

"Sherlock?" John's voice was stern and it snapped Sherlock back to reality and he looked to John's face, such a pretty face, Sherlock thought.

"You broke up with him why?" Sherlock says ignoring John's question, "Why do you assume I broke up with him?" John questions back and Sherlock gives John the 'I'm Sherlock Holmes' look.

"Because I know," Sherlock says and John could finally felt the sensation of Sherlock's hands on him, he felt his face go a bit hot.

"Where were you going?" John asked, and Sherlock's face goes cold, eyes avoid John's.

"To go to you," John didn't understand what that meant, "Go to me?" John questioned and Sherlock's grip became even tighter with just enough of tug to make John take a step closer to the taller man.

"I-" Sherlock started then stopped, John took a deep breath as Sherlock's hands lets go of John's shoulders letting his arms wrap around John's neck pressing the smaller man to him.

It took a moment for John to realize that Sherlock was hugging him, the embrace was warm and sweet and it filled John's chest with a hot tingle that traveled through him. Sherlock's face pressed against John's hair; he was unwilling to let John go and closed his eyes happily when he felt John wraps his arms back around him. John was solid and real as he returned Sherlock's hug, their breaths were in union.

John knew he needed to say something so he pulled back to do just that, say something anything to Sherlock, they needed to talk.

When John pulled back from Sherlock, Sherlock looked down to search John's face, watching John part his lips to speak; he wanted to hear John's words but something flutter in his stomach. Sherlock leaned in to kiss John; it was a press of the lips that gave Sherlock peace, and it felt as if John's body gave a slow long sigh.

John was surprised at the affection, but he wasn't stupid enough to pull back just yet to question it, right now he just wanted to get lost in Sherlock's kiss, he wanted to get lost in Sherlock. The kiss admittedly was a bit awkward but it did not take them long to find rhythm to work with, it became easier to move and press.

Sherlock pulled back first but stood close to John's face the heat of their breathing so close, made Sherlock tingle at his earlobes. John hesitates for a second then pressed closer to Sherlock,

"Was that another experiment?" John hated to ask in fear of the answer but I needed to all come out, they needed a real conversation.

Sherlock planted a soft kiss to John's forehead, "No, and neither was our first kiss," Sherlock responded feeling the vibration of his voice move across John's skin, the he felt John settle.

"But you said-" Sherlock kissed his head again brushing his cheek over John's soft hair, "I know what I said, I lied." John for some reason couldn't understand why Sherlock would lie to him about that.

"Why?" John asked moving his head to look up to Sherlock's content face, he felt so small in Sherlock's arms, so small.

"To push you away," Sherlock said with a sad smile, "I didn't want to submit to feeling, feelings are useless, the only things that matter are the facts," John felt Sherlock's hold on him tighten, he knew Sherlock was sacred.

"Sherlock," John starts and Sherlock leans his head down to press his forehead to Johns, "Yes?"

"You said you were leaving to come to me, what were you going to say?" John asked blinking up at Sherlock who could feel his lashes graze over his skin. Sherlock's face seemed a bit pained as he thought and John wanted to grin at how cute it was that Sherlock hated to say 'I don't know'.

"I- I'm not sure, John," something clouded Sherlock's features, a something John couldn't place, "What is it?" John had to ask and Sherlock pressed closer to kiss John, it was a quick one to John's disappointment.

"Please forgive me if I did upset you, I sometimes don't mind what I say," Sherlock said against John's lips and John felt himself shutter, he would have forgiven Sherlock if he stabbed him if he would keep this closeness.

"Sherlock," John said his name ready to tell him, he figured it was best to get it out of the way before this ended; whatever this was.

Sherlock didn't give John a chance to talk though, even with John kissing him back Sherlock was frightened that John was going to tell him that he liked him but not like that. Sherlock feared John would tell him that he no longer wanted to kiss Sherlock that he wanted to just stay friends.

No Sherlock didn't want to hear that so he kissed John again grabbing his head roughly to keep John there pressed to his face, their lips moving against each other's. John didn't protest and Sherlock wanted to sigh, he just wanted to stay this way without words, without words that could cut him deeper than any knife. John was so soft underneath his touch, as Sherlock ran a hand from his hair down his spine so he could pull John's waist against his. Their bodies now touching closer than before, Sherlock could feel John on more of him.

The kiss turned hungry as both men desperately tried to communicate with the other their longing. So scared to use words they prayed that the other would somehow understand them, that the wanting in their blood was common.

John moved first to pull Sherlock's scarf from his neck letting it fall to the ground below them, the ground that kept them up right. He then tugged at Sherlock's arms to straighten so he could slip the heavy coat from his thin figure; Sherlock obeyed John's silent commands. Sherlock's hands coming back fast to cover John, to press against John's face, back, waist, anywhere he could reach in attempts to keep the virtually no space between them.

Then Sherlock returned the favor and yanked John's coat from his shoulders letting it tumble to the floor beneath them. He felt John grin against his mouth just before Sherlock bit his bottom lip making John gasp so he could slip his tongue into the smaller male's mouth. Sherlock could feel the vibration rattle him when John groaned deep in the back of his throat.

Feeling John's strong hands holding his waist made Sherlock press closer to him, he wanted to feel John on every part of him. Sherlock felt high, he wanted more; he wanted more of John, always.

"S-Sherlock wait," John said pulling back abruptly, his hair sticking out awkwardly and his face flushed. He didn't move far enough to break the contact though and Sherlock pressed his hands protectively against John's back.

"I-" the words caught in John's throat so he swallowed hard in attempts to smooth them out, "It's alright, tell me, John." Sherlock encouraged, suppressing his own feelings on the matter, if John needed to tell him something he wanted to listen no matter the result.

"I- I – I'm in," John stopped again taking a breath, "Well this is harder than I thought," Said John chuckling softly due to nervousness.  

Sherlock shifted one arm so he could wrap it firmly around his neck and moved the other so he could press his fingers underneath John's chin to lift his face to his. Sherlock kissed his softly once.

"Tell me," He spoke the words against John's lips, John closed his eyes briefly.

John was gone again lost in Sherlock it made it easier for him speak now, "I am in love with you," John said and was met by a silence to thick he almost choked but he couldn't say another word, fear had gripped his bones had he couldn't function anymore.

"John I-" Sherlock started and John was sucked back in time back to that time in Angelo's when they first met each other.

It felt so real to John he sat there with his cane at his side and Sherlock across from him peering out the window as he asked him if he had any girlfriends or boyfriends. No, John thought not here anywhere but here, he wanted to cover his ears so he couldn't listen to Sherlock but it was useless.

"John, um, I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, and while I'm flattered by your interest, I'm really not looking for any-"

"John?" Sherlock's voice caused John to open his eyes that he had not realized he closed, "Are you alright, your shaking." Sherlock said moving John so they could sit on the couch together, the space between them too much for John but he didn't have the energy to get closer.

"Yeah, no yeah I'm alright," John smiled to Sherlock who looked concerned.

"I assume you didn't hear what I said," Sherlock said with a small tug at the corner of his mouth, "I- no I didn't." John admitted.

"Well I said, John I think I love you as well," John felt his jaw drop, "Are you messing with me?" John asked in denial that Sherlock actually said that.

Sherlock made a confused face taking a look around the flat, "Messing with you?" Sherlock asked back turning his attention back to the blonde.

"Was that not good?" Sherlock asked looking such at a loss John knew Sherlock was serious, "No, no it was quite alright, very alright." John said knowing how stupid he sounds at the moment.

"Oh, good." Sherlock said sighing a bit, "This is not how I expected my evening to go," John chuckled and it made Sherlock smile at him.

At the moment both of them were so relieved that they couldn't properly feel the excitement filling them, they were relieved to finally know.

John the moved his hands to wrap around Sherlock's which was resting in his lap, Sherlock took that as signal and turned his hands over to grip John's. Then he pulled the other man hard so John was sprawled out across his lap, a surprised chuckled escaped John as he moved positioning himself more comfortably.

John sat happily in Sherlock's lap facing him so he had his legs parted and gripping Sherlock's sharp hips.

"Mmm," Sherlock made a pleased sound as John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck.

"Um, I hate to ruin the moment, but are we together now?" John asked making Sherlock smile, "I know it's a stupid question but I need to know for sure, I can't keep guessing."

"It is not a stupid question, and we can if that is what you want." Sherlock responds leaning in to kiss Johns chin, cheeks, nose and finally lips.

"Yes," John breath out, "But only if you want to as well." John blinked at Sherlock, "Of course."

John response by pressing closer to Sherlock and kissing him hard on the lips because he could and Sherlock kissed back with all he had. Joy hammering in time with every heart beat as they moved as one.

"John," Sherlock broke the kiss but stayed pressed close to John so when he spoke his lips brushed feathery like over the others.

"It is getting late; you can sleep in my bed for the night if you like." John couldn't suppress his grin, "Alright, Sherlock,"

NOTE: This is not the end of this story;
I really hope this is alright!

Tell me what you think pleeasee????

Part 6: [link]
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       It was the first day of the new school year after the hols, and John was sitting down to lunch with some of his classmates. He was just setting his tray down when he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was that boy from the playground. What was his name? Oh right: Sherlock. An odd name. He appeared to have grown over the summer and was now only a few inches shorter than John.
“Can I sit with you?” he said. John was about to reply when another of the boys at the table said scornfully, “Don’t let him; he’s a freak.” John turned to the other boy. “What do you mean he’s a freak?” John asked, a bit harshly. Turning to Sherlock, he said, “Of course you can sit here.” The other boys at the table stared at John, stunned, and turned to glare at Sherlock. The boy who had spoken to John answered his question after the two boys had sat down.
“He has this trick he does where he can tell you everything you’ve done and everything your family has done just by looking at you,” the boy said derisively. “It’s not a trick,” Sherlock muttered, spearing a green bean off his plate. “I just observe, that’s all.” “It is too a trick,” the other boy jeered. “And you’re a freak; everyone knows that. I’m not about to eat lunch with a freak!” And with that, all of John’s classmates got up and moved to another table, leaving John and Sherlock alone. They ate in silence for a few moments before Sherlock spoke.
“I’m sorry I made your friends leave,” Sherlock said, still speaking in his quiet voice. “They aren’t really my friends,” John answered, also quietly. “I guess I don’t really have any friends here. We’ve just all been in the same class together for the past five years.” “Five?” asked Sherlock, looking up at him. “How old are you?” “Ten,” John answered. “Fifth year. How old are you?” “Six,” Sherlock said, looking back at his food. “I’m a third year.” John stared at him for a moment confused, then decided that this was probably just one of Sherlock’s quirks and went back to eating.
He stopped a moment later, though, when he felt Sherlock’s eyes on him. He looked over to see the young boy staring at him. “What?” John asked, his mouth full. “You want me to prove it,” Sherlock said solemnly. John swallowed. “Prove what?” he asked. Sherlock sighed and lay down his fork. Turning to get a better look at John, Sherlock took a deep breath.
“You’re ten years old and in the fifth year. You go to a posh school, but you don’t particularly like it, and you don’t appreciate your mom sending you here. Your favourite colour is red, as is obvious from the red jumper you wear under your uniform almost every day. You don’t have many friends here, because they’re all richer than you and feel awkward around them. Besides, none of them are really your type. You have a sister who’s a year older than you who also attends here. You like her well enough, but she gets on your nerves, particularly at lunch time. You are an excellent artist, you want to be a doctor, and you’ve been thinking about me ever since that day on the playground. Did I get anything wrong?” John stared at Sherlock, forgetting to keep chewing the food that was in his mouth. He remembered after a moment, swallowed, and then said rather hoarsely, “No. That was brilliant. But how did you-“ Sherlock cut him off abruptly, saying, “Here comes my brother, with your sister by the look on your face. Hello, Mycroft.” The “hello” was addressed towards a tall, imperious-looking boy, about the same age as John, who had approached while Sherlock was talking and had just sat down at the table. He was quickly followed by a blond girl who plunked her tray down and swung her legs into her seat in a very unladylike manner. “Hello, Sherlock,” the boy said in a rather bored tone. “Who’s your friend?” The girl piped up: “That’s my brother, John,” she said cheerily. “John, this is Mycroft Holmes.” The two boys shook hands across the table. “Pleasure to meet you, Mycroft,” John said apprehensively. “You were in my class last year, weren’t you?” “Indeed I was,” said Mycroft in the same bored tone. “They moved me ahead a year, which is why I am now in the same class as Harriet.” “I see,” said John cautiously. There was an awkward moment of silence at the table as all four children took a bite of their food. John noticed that Sherlock had gotten a tiny portion, and Mycroft had gotten rather a large portion, but was trying to eat very little of it. John was the first to speak again. “So, Sherlock, you and Mycroft are brothers?” The two boys glared at each other. “Yes,” Mycroft answered. “I know your sister, John, because we are currently seeing each other. Sherlock is my brother. How he met you, though, John, I can only wonder.” Sherlock glared even more vehemently at his brother, if that was possible. John raised his eyebrows at Harriet, who rolled her eyes. “Not my type,” she mouthed. John remembered Sherlock saying the same words a few minutes ago, and turned to ask him about it, but decided against it when he saw the two Holmes brothers glaring daggers at each other from across the table. John sighed. It was going to be a long lunch.
Part two of what is my longest story to date that actually has an ending! ^_^ Enjoy!

I'm American, so if there are phrases or words that wouldn't be used in England, please let me know so I can fix it. ^_^

I do not own any of the characters, they belong to brilliant British people, but I do most definitely own the plot.

Part 1: [link]

Part 2: Thar she blows!

Part 3: [link]

Part 4: [link]

Part 5: [link]

Part 6: [link]

Part 7: [link]

Part 8: [link]

Part 9: [link]
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The young london school boy walked down the street as a dark cloud covered the last bit of sunlight. Then it started to rain. At first there was a tiny bit of sprinkle but then it started to pour heavily onto the surface of the earth. People ran for cover as they tried their best trying not to get soaking wet. Unlike the others, the boy just walked quietly on in the rain.

"For once in your lifetime Sherlock, can't you just run for cover like the others?" A voice mumbled behind him. He turned to see who was behind him. "The death of that boy wasn't an accident, he didn't drown. The killer just wanted the public to think that he did." Sherlock grumbled. His brother sighed, then walked forward to shielded young Sherlock Holmes from the rain.

"Come on, let's go home. We can talk about the case if you like, wasn't his name Carl Power?"

The dark clouds started to scatter as the rain slowed down then eventually came to a stop. The Holmes brother walked on. After a long pause of silence, Mycroft finally broken it.

"I know it must have been hard for you when our dad went off to fight the war and never came home after that, but that's what the reality is like, so get used to it." He said quietly, "Any way,the bakery isn't too far away so I'm getting a quick snack before we reach home."

He closed his umbrella then walked off to the bakery which was only a hundred metres away. Sherlock just stoops there unmoving, a tear dropping down, but he stopped it in midair before it reached his chin, "He's no ordinary boy like the others, he's a Holmes, Grace." He remembered what his brilliant dad used to say to mum when he had "accidentally"blown something up with one of his experiments. His father was a young handsome man in his 30's with brown curly hairs and he liked to wear a green Victorian frock coat whether indoors or outdoors. Usually people dressed with in military fashion came by and asked for his dad or as they like to call him; The Doctor.

Young Sherlock resumed his journey and headed for home while still in deep thoughts, "that old police box in the back garden and that---." His thoughts were interrupted when he found himself colliding with Mycroft, mouth full of muffins.

"Watch where you're going, Sherlock!"Mycroft exclaimed with anger. But Sherlock just ignored him and walked on. After his dad disappeared into the police box which vanished a few seconds later. Usually he felt unwanted from his peers because of his smartness of deduction and with his father missing in the family. Now he felt that even his family didn't want him anymore. This time, without looking behind him, he just ran straight home and wanted to ignore whatever the world has planned for him next.

Back at the bakery, Mycroft sighed in frustration then he started to head home, but he stopped in mid-track when he heard an unearthly sound coming from right behind him. Suddenly a wind wiped up out of nowhere. He turned to inspect what was actually behind him. It was an out of date police box from the late 60's materialising in front of him. The small tree that grew beside the bakery started to sway from side to side then stopped when the police box fully materialised. The bakery owner came out of the shop to see what was going on and was surprised to see a police box in his way.

"Hey sonny, do you know anything about this?"the owner questioned Mycroft with confusion.

Mycroft shrugged, "No sir, I don't even have the slightest idea apart from it's probetly the same thing my father used to own." The door opened and out stepped a familiar figure. Mycroft staggered back in shock. It was his fathe at the door way. He smiled at Mycroft then hold out his arm preparing for a bear hug. Mycroft dropped his umbrella and rushed into his father and then hugged him tightly. He looked up at his father and he suddenly noticed the tiredness on his face as if he hadn't had a single wink of sleep in ages, he looked 10 years older than he was when he left to fight the Time War as he liked to call it.

"How's it going with your younger brother, Mycroft? Also, how long have I been gone?" He asked Mycroft.

"Not too good with Sherlock right now, he's in year 6 and still being teased by his peers. Also Dad, it's been 4 years since you left to fight the war." Mycroft grumbled.

He looked behind his father and he couldn't believe what he is seeing. This was no ordinary police box, it was bigger on the inside.

"Um Dad, why is this police box bigger on the inside?"he asked.

The Doctor let go of his son in surprise. Then looked at the confused bakery owner. "Sorry about the whole police box thing, I'll park it elsewhere instead in your door way. Funny, I thought I remembered it must had been the same thing happened to the great fire on London in that bakery, of course I was a century younger back then but never mind." He apologised then hold up a black wallet with a white paper in it.

"Health and safety inspector." Said The Doctor, then smiled at him. Then he looked back at Mycroft, "Come on son, fetch your umbrella and come with me. I want to give young Sherlock a surprise."

He whispered something into Mycroft 's ears and herded him into the police box.

Sherlock had been running for a while now, a left turn here, almost knocked over an office worker at a sharp turn. The office worker cursed Sherlock as he ran past by without apologising. Another left turn, then a right turn and he found himself in a familiar neighbourhood. He started to slow down then eventually came to a stop at the front of his house. He was already flattened from all the running, big drops of sweat stared to come down from his forehead but he didn't care. Mum was surprised when he nearly knocked her over when he rushed in.

" Sherlock!" She yelled at him, then sighed when she figured out he probably just had another bad day. He dropped his school bag near the bedroom doorway and slammed the door shut loudly, he heard his mother complaining downstairs but he just ignored it. It's probably about me not apologising to her; he thought, then opened up a drawer and flipped through his notes. It was a medium sized bedroom with one closet, a double decker bunk bed and two small drawer with a desk. He wished his father was here to comfort him and answer some of his unanswered questions, but his father was still missing. He sighed, then opened a crack in the window. The suddenly he heard a noise, a sound unfamiliar to him but downstairs his mother was screaming in delight and rushed upstairs to the source of the noise. The papers that had been scattered on his desk started to fly off in the bedroom. He ignored it and thought it was the wind blowing through the window but, thought it can't be that strong to make the papers fly in the room? He finally turned to see what's going on as the noise died down.

"Late 60's model police box, more than 15 years old and possible chance of not being any ordinary box." He said quietly to himself. The door opened and out stepped his father and Mycroft. Sherlock was surprised but he didn't show it on his face.

"Well, happy birthday and aren't you going to give me a hug, too Sherlock? That's not like you." The Doctor joked.

Sherlock rushed up and gave him a tight hug as his mum came through the bedroom door way and double hugged them both. Both of them were glad to see him, Mycroft leaned against the police box door way and smiled. That night The Doctor invited a few old friends to come over and give Sherlock a Birthday present he brought, but what was valued more to Sherlock for his birthday was his dad coming home. After a few jokes and stories passed around the table The Doctor have got something he hadn't said yet, "You know Sherlock, last time though I didn't time it right for your birthday and ended up in the future in 221B Baker St, nice flatmate you've got in the future apart from when he point a gun in my face. John Watson was his name if you're wondering." The Doctor told Sherlock that night after everyone went home. "Though I shouldn't tell you that early." He mumbled quietly then caught Sherlock sneaking into the police box which his old friend Sarah Jane Smith said its called the TARDIS.

"Oi Sherlock! That's off-limit until I'm inside to show you how to fly this old girl!" He yelled at Sherlock and rushed up and tried to catch him but he was just a second too slow and Sherlock is in the TARDIS.

To be continued 

This is a Wholock crossover and a eighth doctor :iconeighthdoctorplz: /k!dlock short story, more to coming soon! :D
Edit: this was a part of a English assisment, I ended up with 6 pages. ;)
chapter 1: HERE
chapter 2: [link]
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How's the case, my dear otter?


You look like an otter.

John, I was under the impression that it's illegal to consume alcohol while practicing medicine.

I'm not drunk! It's this thing I found on the internet.

What are you talking about?

People think you look like an otter.

They're obviously imbeciles. I do not in any way resemble a semi-aquatic mammal.

Actually you kind of do. They've matched picture of up of you and compared them to otters. The similarities are striking.

You are being absurd. Otters have long, slim bodies and relatively short limbs, with webbed paws. Most have sharp claws on their feet, and all except the sea otter have long, muscular tails. They are also covered in dark fur .What similarities does that appearance have to mine?

Well it's more the facial expressions really.

Oh? Do otters project an expression of utter exasperation at the level of stupidity that surrounds them? Honestly, idiocy has reached a new height in the world. I fear I may soon perish from it's foul presence.

Stop being over-dramatic. It's only a joke around the web.

You failed to mention that you look like a hedgehog.

What? I do not!

You do according to the internet. I just found it. The similarities are striking.

Shut up. That's not funny.

But it's true! While the connection is not one I would have made myself, they are quite correct.

Oh so I look like a hedgehog, but you can't possibly look like an otter?

Yes. Now you've got it.

You're impossible. And for the record I do not look like a hedgehog!

I exist therefor I am possible. And you do. Perhaps it's the perpetually disgruntled look you have. Hedgehogs seem to share it. And you can be rather prickly at times...

I only look "perpetually disgruntled" around you. And it's your fault. So there.

Your vibrant wit has disarmed me, John. What possible reply can I offer to your
scintillating argument?

Piss off.

It took you nearly five years but you finally said it. Congratulations, John you've lasted far longer than anyone else. I admire your perseverance. Having said that - I decline your request.

Have I ever told you how much I hate you?

Yes. Several times. Almost as often as the number of times you tell me you love me. Hypocrisy, John.

Well they say the line between love and hate is a thin one. I can't help it if I fall to the other every once and awhile.

Excellent point. Though I hope you retain your position on this side more often than not.

That was nearly touching. You've really got to be careful of that. Wouldn't want to ruin your reputation.

As a medical professional I would've thought you'd be honor bound to inform me that your sentimentality was contagious.

Slipped my mind. Patient coming in – talk later?

Perhaps. Though I'll be busy with the blood tests.

So in other words I'll talk and you might nod your head if I'm lucky?

You know me so well, John.
I got a request to do a text fic on otterlock and this is what I came up with. Enjoy!
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Sherlock:Caring Is Not an Advantage Part 3  

Part Three: Is It Alright If I Come Home?

Sherlock paced the flat thinking of something to do; experiments seemed to be only failures and it was not like anyone knew he was alive to actually give him a case. There was absolutely nothing to do, but to pace and hate his hair and hate that John was not there.

Though he was happy to be in his old style of dressing and the warm walls of his flat surrounding him; it felt great to be home and not hidden away in some hole in the wall. It was strange how he could go three years without being this wound up yet one meeting with John in person seemed to make it worse.

When he saw John it was different, he realized then how much he did miss the other man, not that he didn’t realized that he missed him but when he saw John he realized how much. Too much, Sherlock thought, he realized what it was like to wake up and not see John’s morning face, or to not smell breakfast being cooked in the kitchen. Not being served tea even when John knew Sherlock wouldn’t drink it, or having John talk to him out of habit when he figured Sherlock wasn’t listening anyway.  

Maybe he was trying to delete it back then, but once he saw John his brain went through an unwanted recovery status, bringing back only the deleted data of John.

Frustrated Sherlock picked up his mobile phone and texted John again, he wasn’t exactly sure if he was even reading them but he couldn’t stop himself. It was an impulse he could not control.

Bored, do you want to have dinner? SH

Sherlock pressed send then dropped his phone; it wasn’t like John ever answered him even if he did read the messages.

He needed John to come home that was for certain. Where to collect data on how to deal with this situation was another matter, it wasn’t like there as a forum online called “what to say when you return home after three years of faking dead”.

Sherlock growled in the back of his throat then dropped in his chair to only fidget around.

The silence was maddening.

There was no soft turn of the paper as John read, there was not soft hiss of the kettle coming to a boil. There were no footsteps on the stairs, no humming from the bathroom. There was just silence and absence.

How did I manage it for all this time? Sherlock questioned himself as he pressed the back of his head to the chair and looked up to the ceiling.

He couldn’t go back to talking to skull, it wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same and Sherlock fear it would never be that way. He didn’t want another flat mate he wanted his flat mate he wanted John Watson.

And he needed him back soon.


John rolled over in bed to the phone buzzing again; Sherlock’s texts seemed to be coming closer together over the past week. All hours of the day as well, anywhere from early morning to late at night which could still be considered early morning? It wasn’t too strange John thought seeing’s how Sherlock barely slept when he was- I can’t say alive he was never dead.

John sat up rubbing the sleep from his eyes and grabbed the phone he had safely tucked under his pillow.

Three new text messages:

I like your new jumper. SH

The flat is strange without you, want to have dinner? SH

Bored, do you want to have dinner? SH

“Christ.” John muttered letting him-self smile just a bit, Sherlock persistency was quite flattering if anything else.

It was strange to know that Sherlock was live, to know where Sherlock was and not to see him. Two weeks ago he found out his best friend was alive; two weeks ago John had a break down, two weeks felt like years.

Too long had John waited to see Sherlock again and when he was there he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t face Sherlock because he would have to face himself. Yes he did feel betrayed and hurt by Sherlock and by Mycroft and anyone else who was in on it, but those things could be worked on. John could heal from those feelings over time like you can with most things; he was strong in every sense of the word.

What he had learned to be fear, fear of actually facing Sherlock. He knew if he did nothing else would matter, he would lose what was left of him. He knew this because he had figured out a long time ago was that he was indeed, in love with Sherlock. It took his death to realize it, to bring to the surface thoughts he never knew he had. It hurt then because Sherlock was dead, he couldn’t tell him and it was worse now that he could have told him but wasn’t allowed.

John was terrified that if he faced Sherlock everything would be alright, he wanted to be pissed he wanted to hate Sherlock but he couldn’t.

It was too late to be thinking like this, John thought as he sat up in bed to stretch knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He decided to go out for takeaway then come back home and watch sad movies and just think.

It was in theory a very simple plan until Mycroft decided to kidnap him.


“I worry about him, contently.” Mycroft says staring at John who stood glaring at him.

“Mycroft why don’t you just butt out?” John said wanting to just walk away and go back to his flat.

“John, he is my brother no matter our little squabbles,” Mycroft says in a slow business tone, “I know he hurt you, and I am not asking you to forgive him,”

John presses his lips together and rolls his shoulders.

“I am simply suggesting that you at least speak with him in person,”

“How do you know I want to?” John snapped.

“Because you know, you want to,” Mycroft smiles smugly.

“Bite me,”

“That did not sound like a no, John,”

John stays quiet and Mycroft continues to look smug.

“Look, Sherlock is anything but stupid John, if he thought there was any other way to stay with you he would have.”

“What does that mean?” John asks feeling confused.

“I am not a liberty to go into detail; you should hear it from him. Even if you only see him once, you should talk to him in person,”

“I’ll think about it alright? That’s as far as I am willing to go on the subject.” John says then turns away from Mycroft.

“That is all I ask, good evening.”

“Good evening.” John mutters as he gets into the unmarked car so they could take him back to his flat.


Sherlock sat curled up on the couch, his dressing gown tightly wrapped around his limbs.

Nightmares so tedious, Sherlock thought blinking fast to keep him-self awake. He was still slightly shaking and out of his depth from the dream he had just woken from. He hadn’t had any new nightmares for month before he came home.

They first started shortly after he left they were mostly Moriarty nightmares. Dreams where he was still alive even though Sherlock knew he was dead, gunshot to the head would do that to you. These were dreams Sherlock couldn’t control them like his thoughts, they were irrational. So many nights he would pass out from lack of sleep and see Moriarty behind his eyelids, alive laughing and bleeding from his head.

“Tricked you!” Moriarty would say in deep low growl then go on to laugh like a lunatic.

Sometimes he would reach out and grab at Sherlock with clawed hands, other times he would tackle Sherlock crawl on top of him and start to sink into Sherlock’s skin.

“We are just the same you and I… not just the same we are each other, I am inside you Sherlock, and I am you.”

Sherlock would always wake with a start, an unfamiliar room coming into view, panic worse than ever. There was nothing worse than waking from a nightmare to an unfamiliar room.

Soon Moriarty faded away and those nightmares were replaced by John.

Dreams of waking up in his room hearing John laughing through the walls, he would go out to see John making tea and everything felt safe. Then John would look at Sherlock like he were a ghost and start to scream, he never stopped screaming and Sherlock tried to shut him up but the warm room in his mind fell apart and everything turned dark. John would grow cold and his face would darken and until he was nothing but ashes.

Other dreams John was the one who jumped, John telling him that his was his note and that he was fake. He would watch John jump and die, he could never save him in his dreams, never and nothing ever stood happy for long.

This time Sherlock had dreamt he was with John, just them and John was smiling and happy. He was how Sherlock remembered him most nights, just content and happy. Sherlock had felt a glow develop in his stomach and John had turned to look at it.

“Sherlock, you’re an angel!” John smiled reaching out to touch the glow at his navel, Sherlock tried to swat him away.

“No, John it’s not safe!”

John simply laughed and pressed his fingers into the light.

“You’re beautiful, Sherlock, you’re on the side of the angles!” John’s voice held nothing but glee.

“But I’m not one of them.” I said to John, who looked up to Sherlock now,

“Your quite ordinary Sherlock, a bit boring, kind of dull but I love you anyway.”

Sherlock had laughed and John had leaned up to kiss Sherlock but when their lips touched John turned to stone, his body nothing but frozen grey stone.

“John, no!” I had reached out to hold him but John crumbled up, and fell away until Sherlock was covered in blood and dust.


That was when Sherlock woke up on the couch he was aware that he had screamed, he heard it. The dreams with John were always the worst. Not that waking was so pleasant; it just reminded him that he was alone. Looking around the half set up flat Sherlock felt lonely, it’s not something he wasn’t used to but this time he was John-lonely. So he decided to grab his mobile from his dressing gown pocket.


John was getting ready for work when the mobile on his table buzzed away; he turned to it half-dressed wondering if he should even keep looking at the messages. They made him feel sad somehow, they made him feel a bit cruel which was stupid but couldn’t be helped. He bit his lip then sighed before walking over to the phone.

Two new texts:

I never wanted to leave you and now it seems my subconscious is abusing me for it. SH

To clarify my nightmares have returned. SH

John shuddered he knew what it was like to have nightmares; they sucked and were always so much worse than what you have gone through. They were worse because thy replayed your failure and wins all at the same time. They were always there to drag you back to the things you wanted to forget about or the things you missed and sometimes the things you wished you could change.

John licked his lips and sighed.

He couldn’t think about this, Sherlock shaken and overturned by nightmares. Sherlock alone in an empty flat, but was it not Sherlock’s fault that they both now had huge gaps in their lives? Was it not Sherlock who decided to close him out?

What if he had a good reason?

John scowled at his thoughts betraying him.

Right now all he needed to do was get to work and think about anything else. He had to focus on actually helping people and not his bloody Ex- flat mate.


It didn’t work no matter how much he distracted himself John couldn’t seem to focus on anything. Sarah was very sweet with him but he could tell even she was becoming annoyed with his forgetting patient or calling them by other names. If he wasn’t careful he would give the wrong meds to some poor bloke and they would die.

John knew he needed to leave here before that did actually happen, he gave Sarah some poor excuse that he couldn’t remember and left the clinic.

His phone buzzed and he actually found himself smiling when he opened the message.

Did you really have to keep the picture of me in the deerstalker? SH

Yes, John thought, you did look rather fetching in it. John let himself giggle out loud as he was swept away by the flood of memories of Sherlock and that deerstalker.

“It got flaps, ear flaps it’s an ear hat John!”

John laughed harder at the memory; he even had to hold his side since it started to hurt from laughing. He hadn’t laughed this hard in a long time, in a very long time. The phone buzzes in his hand and he composed himself long enough to open the new message.

If you come to dinner, I’ll wear the deerstalker. SH

John almost collapsed from the laughter this point.
Finally part three is up!!!
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Sherlock: Searching out a Friend.

Chapter One: Brilliant and annoying

"You have another patient outside waiting," Sarah say's popping her head into my office and smiling at me, I smile back to her.

"Thank you send him in," I say and she gives me a look, "I wouldn't thank me just yet," She giggles before leaving.

Two men walk into my room; the first one was tall with brown/black curls wearing a black long coat under an orange blanket. The second man was tall with salt and pepper hair wearing a grey suit; I think I saw him on the telly before.

"What seems to be the problem?" I ask them and the tall one with the curly hair sits on the examination table as the second holds out his hand to me.

"Apparently I'm in shock," The one sitting down mumbles with annoyance in his voice.

"I am inspector detective Lestrade; he is Sherlock Holmes and I need to make sure he does not have a concoction." I shake Lestrade's hand listening to him talk, glancing at the other man who was swinging his feet about as he sat on the table.

"Right I've seen you on the telly," I say to the inspector with a smile before walking over to Sherlock to give him a once over.

"Honestly there is nothing wrong with me," Sherlock says rolling his eyes and I just smile, as he looks me over.

"Don't listen to him," Lestarde says and I nod, "Alright, what happened?" I ask aloud and both men started to talk at once.

"He was consulting on a case when he-"

"This man's incompetence almost got me ki-"

"Alright," I say looking at both of them, "I need you two take turns talking." I turn to Sherlock who looked unsure as I reached over to check his head for any bleeding or swells.

"He was consulting on a case when things got a bit sketchy," Lestrade says moving to stand across the room from us.

"Consulting?" I questioned as I moved my fingers across his skull not feeling any kind of signs of damage or even disturbance anywhere around his head area.

"I am a consulting detective, the only one in the world, I invented the job." Sherlock says sounds quite full of himself, or proud either way it made him sound arrogant.

"That's nice," I smile, "So what happened, why do you think he might have a concoction?" I ask looking to Lestarde who had crossed his arms across the chest.

"During the case he was consulting on things got a bit dark and I had to punch him," Lestarde says and I turned back to Sherlock removing my hands from his head to pull out my flash light.

"So you think you punched him so hard that he got a concoction?" I say with amusement in my voice and Sherlock grinned back to me.

"No, of course not," Lestrade says his voice rising, he sound a bit mad at my comment.

"My apologies," I say shining the light into Sherlock eyes to check them, "How long ago did this happen?" I ask him and Sherlock watches me as I take the light from his eyes. The lightest pair of blue eyes I have ever seen, they were a blue grey that seemed to have a darker shade of blue outlining them. I was staring into his eyes and I realized it so I turned away.

"About twenty minutes ago," Sherlock answers and I turn to Lestrade, "Well shouldn't he be in an emergency room?" I asked and Lestrade looks down to his shoes for a second.

"Sherlock doesn't like hospitals, and most people working at those hospitals do not like Sherlock. I wanted to take him somewhere more privet and you were the closest to the area." He says to me and I nod,

"Alright, how did you manage to piss off a hospital?" I ask Sherlock but Lestarde answers,
"Because he is brilliant and annoying,"

"I am not annoying, I observe. You lot would see what I see if you just looked, besides it's not my fault people don't seem to like the truth." Sherlock says crossing his arms over his thin chest.

I look between them.

"Right," I say then walk back to Sherlock to hold up my fingers in front of his face, "How many fingers am I holding up?" I ask and he looked annoyed.

"Really, I have to answer that?" He asks a bit rudely, "Yep, but I'll give you a lollipop after," I say grinning and he doesn't look amused but I hear Lestrade chuckle.

"You are holding up three fingers," He says flatly, "Can I go now?" he goes on getting ready to stand and Lestrade drops his arms as if meaning to tackle Sherlock if he moved from the table.

"Is there anything else I should know?" I ask aloud meaning the question to go to both men, they answer at the same time.



Sherlock and Lestarde share a tense angry look between them that make my room feel quite uncomfortable.

"Would you two like a minute alone?" I ask them and Sherlock looks at me then away as Lestarde does the same.

"No, that's not needed." Lestarde says, and I turn to look at Sherlock who is staring down at the floor.

"Well then can I have a moment with him then?" I ask Lestarde who looks between us and then nods leaving the room.

"Are you sure there is nothing you want to tell me while you are here?" I ask him, he turns to me, staring back to me emotionlessly.

"Sorry about your recent break up, though Sarah seems very put on by you." He says and I was confused.

"I would ask how you know that but it is about my love life and is inappropriate during work hours," I say to him.

"Besides I need to run blood pressure take off your blanket and coat," I say to him walking across the room to grab the needed supplies.

I watch him struggle with gripping the blanket, his hands seemed to be cramped up and he couldn't move them properly. I give him another second but it doesn't go anywhere, so either he didn't want his blood pressure taken or there was something wrong. I walk up to him then setting the supplies down next to him before pulling the blanket from his shoulders and helping him out of his coat. He seemed a little stand offish about the touching but doesn't stop me or complain. He was thinner than I thought seeing him stripped down to his suit jacket and button up shirt. I help him out of the suit jacket and help him roll up the sleeve of his button up to see two nicotine patches on his skin.

"Two patches?" I ask him and he shrugged at me, "It was a two patch problem," He said like I knew what that meant.

I strap him up.

"How often do you eat?" I ask him and he looks me over, "When I feel the need to,"

"So not too often then?" I questioned he rolls his eyes, "Look I don't have an eating disorder, digestion slows down your thinking process so I don't eat during cases or whenever I'm conducting experiments." He says and I found it oddly intriguing.

I get his blood pressure down, it was normal and I unstrap him.

"You don't seem to have a concoction from what I can see, but I would suggest you schedule an appointment for a checkup," I tell him and he sighs.

"You used to be an army doctor," Is Sherlock's response, "Yes," I tell him and walk over to my desk to pull off my gloves, tossing them away.

"How did you know that?" I ask looking at him, "That doesn't matter, you've seen a lot?" I blink at him.

"Yes, far too much," I say and walk back to him to gather my things from the bed.

"Do you make house calls?" Sherlock asks and I am a bit put off by the question, "No not normally,"

Sherlock frowns, "Could you make an exception just once?"

"I suppose I could if the circumstances were crucial,"

"Great, I'll see tomorrow night then, say seven o'clock the address is 221 B Baker street. "Sherlock says and grabs his jacket and coat leaping from the bed.

"So that's it?" I say as he looks back to me, "Is what it?" He asks shrugging on his jacket and coat.

"I see you once and you want me to make a house call for you?" I say and he blinks at me.

"I know you were an army doctor and I know you just went through a break up that you obviously caused, you know Sahara has a crush on you but you haven't asked her out and have been avoiding the topic with her. I know that you are serious about your work but you are unsatisfied with it. I think that is enough to go on, see you tomorrow."

He says and just leaves my room; I stand there with my mouth open.

What the hell just happened?
I am not sure how long this one will be it is still in progress.

I just wanted to test this story out really.

Please comment, i need to know if it's working

Chapter Two: [link]
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