BBC Sherlock: NightmaresThe moment John woke up, he knew something was wrong. He was a light sleeper, courtesy of Afghanistan, so any sign of danger could instantly jolt him wide awake. And now he clearly sensed that his life was hanging by a thread. However, John decided to be cautious and not to make any unnecessary movements, which might provoke an assault. Instead he just opened his eyes slightly and carefully scanned the room shrouded in darkness. Yes, his instinct didn't fail him. There was someone standing at the door. The stranger was motionless, but John could hear him breathing irregularly, as if he just stopped running and tried to calm down. A shadowy, anonymous silhouette, like a monster from children's nightmares.BBC Sherlock: Nightmares3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
John felt fear rising in his chest, but years of being a soldier helped him to maintain his cool. His mind started racing, desperately trying to figure out what to do. He thought about the gun he kept in a bedside table's drawer, but he doubt he'd be quick enough to grab it before th
ForeverJohn was sitting in his arm chair, reading the paper as rain hit the window on the other side of the room. He felt eyes on him. He could feel the stares but he didn't dare look up. He was mad. Ferrous even. Mad that he had done this to him. Mad that he had left him alone for three bloody years.Forever3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Mad that he loved him after it was all said and done.
"John..?" Sherlock's voice was barely audible being just above a whisper.
John ignored him.
"John? Please..." Sherlock sounded pitiful.
John turned the page to the paper. He was going to make Sherlock suffer as long as he could. He was alone for three years. He was depressed, alone, and pissed all that time. Depressed his best friend had killed himself. Alone in the world he didn't want to be in anymore. Pissed that Sherlock had done this to him.
Sherlock stood and moved over to John, snatching the paper out of his hands.
"Listen to me..." He begged, his eyes sad and a little annoyed.
"Give me the pap
Pillow TalkPillow Talk3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"Mm... why 'r'nt you sleep'n yet?"
"And why aren't you sleeping, John?"
"'m waitin' for you."
"Don't worry John, just go to sleep; I'll follow soon enough."
"I love you too, John."
BBC Sherlock: Marbles on glassSherlock was about to take a leap when he felt a vibration in his pocket. That really surprised him, causing him to open his eyes and relax his tensed muscles. Since he died three years ago his phone was always silent. The only person who could be texting him was Mycroft, but he never did that. He preferred to call him or meet him in person. Still, Sherlock kept carrying his old phone. It was just a habit from his previous life and not a necessity. Not anymore.BBC Sherlock: Marbles on glass3 years ago in Drama More Like This
He produced the phone from his navy blue jacket, which he truly hated, and glanced at the screen.
Hellooooo, Sherlock! -JM
Sherlock stared at the message, his face expressionless. After a while, his fingers began to move seemingly without his will as he typed and sent the text.
I think I should be surprised that you're alive, but truth be told: I am not. -SH
The reply came almost instantly.
I wasn't surprised that you're alive, as well. You're rather predictable, Sherly. -JM
So are you, my dear Jim. - SH
Pocket JohnI sighed, resting my chin in my hands as I watched Sherlock get ready to leave. He was off to work on a case, and I was going to be sitting here, alone as usual. "Oh, don't look so down dear," Ms. Hudson said, noticing my crestfallen face as she handed Sherlock his scarf. "You wouldn't want to go out anyways, not in your condition."Pocket John2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She was right, of course. This 'condition', as we had termed it, made me less able then usual to go along with Sherlock's escapades. It was a result of a series of rather unusual accidental occurrences that happened almost two weeks ago, most of which were Sherlock's fault. He had been messing around with some experimental science nonsense, and when I got caught in the crossfire… well, how do I say this without sounding ridiculous? I shrunk, for lack of a better term. I now stand at about 14 centimeters (or 5.5 inches, for the American readers). It all happened rather quickly, and I am actually ashamed to say that I am fairly used to it by now. Still, I hav
A Pirates life for me?"Now you stay right there, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson admonished him as he sat down in the living room. "John! Bring your medical bag, hurry, please."A Pirates life for me?3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Quick stepping, John came in from his bedroom, his black leather medical bag (compliments of Sherlock on Boxing Day) in his hands. Sherlock sat on the couch holding a bloody handkerchief to his left cheek.
"What happened here?" John lifted Sherlock's chin to better view his face. On his left cheek a gash was bleeding profusely. John immediately took a sterile gauze wipe and applied direct pressure to the wound.
"What have you been up to Sherlock? Mrs. Hudson can you get me a basin of hot water and some towels? This might get a bit messy."
"It's only a tiny cut, John. I'll be alright."
"It's a deep penetrating wound on your head and it's bleeding rather profusely, which is good by the way. Hopefully, it will purge any debris that was left in the wound. We will still have to wash it out and you might need a few stitches."
"Let me know when you
Asperger'sAsperger's3 years ago in Drama More Like This
"You know, he's secretly pleased to see you here."
"Yeah, he likes to see familiar faces together. It appeals to his "
The large pile of papers made a satisfyingly large thumping sound as they hit the bottom of the recycling bin.
John smirked, rubbing his hands against the knees of his jeans in an attempt to rid them of the inevitable dust and dirt. Slowly, he stood up, straightening with a grimace, stretching his back after long hours of cleaning. Looking around the room, John saw progress.
The room was far cleaner than it had been in the morning. John, finally convinced Sherlock to move his most important papers into a cabinet and allow John to throw out or organize th
Four patch problem?It wasn't often that John Watson woke up in the middle of the night for reasons not concerning his nightmares.Four patch problem?4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The nightmares had certainly woken him up, screaming into his pillow for soldiers lost, but there was something that was keeping him from drifting off again.
From his little room upstairs, John woke to hear the sounds of Sherlock stirring in his sleep. He sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, just for a few seconds so that he could slowly wake up before investigating further.
Sherlock didn't even try sleeping most nights; he'd just stay up with his cases, or his experiments. After almost a week of sleepless nights, he'd cave in. Rarely in his own bed. John, if ever he got up in the night, which was likely, would often find Sherlock asleep in the oddest of places. Most unusually on the sofa, but other times, his flat-mate would be snoring gently on the kitchen floor, perhaps not quite making it to the fridge or the sink, and letting his tiredness overrule his defiance
The Question Part 4 - Gifts1:12The Question Part 4 - Gifts3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Are you going to make it to the wedding?
You're really getting married? I thought it was a gag.
Why is everyone so surprised?
Well it's you and Sherlock how can we not be?
You guys weren't like this when you found out we got together.
We thought you were together long before though.
Yes I remember.
Looking back it's rather funny; don't you think?
I suppose it is.
I think under the word Denial in the dictionary there is a picture of you two.
Hey it wasn't denial!
Really? Cause I seem to recall hearing nothing but "I'm not gay." from you.
... I've missed something apparently.
I love Sherlock and I'm attracted to him but only him no other men. So not gay.
Guess that makes sense.
Glad we've cleared that up.
Yeah Guess I should cancel the male-strip dancer I hired for your Stag part
Sherlock BBC: The Meowing ProblemSensing that it was John, who was coming home and not someone else, didn't prove a challenge to the great Sherlock Holmes. Doctor Watson had this very specific way of opening the front door, unique pace of climbing the stairs and breathing pattern that somehow felt soothing. But Sherlock, sitting in his armchair and browsing through a newspaper, knew that something was different today. All those little habits of John's were slightly altered. Perhaps due to the rain that kept falling incessantly for the whole day. Whatever the reason, Sherlock was mildly intrigued. Something was afoot.Sherlock BBC: The Meowing Problem3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"Hello, John," he said casually, eyes fixed on John.
"Hello, Sherlock," John replied quickly and hurried to the kitchen, clearly trying to avoid the attention of his flatmate. Obviously, that had quite the opposite effect, especially when a muffled "meow" could be heard coming from the general direction of John.
"John?" Sherlock asked with misleading calmness.
"Yes?" The water was dripping from him as if
BBC Sherlock: In Bed"I'm dying, John!" Sherlock whined, looking at his flatmate like a sad puppy.BBC Sherlock: In Bed2 years ago in Humor More Like This
John rolled his eyes.
"No, you're not. You've just got a cold," he explained patiently, pointing his finger at Sherlock to show who was to blame for the whole situation. "I told you not to run around the flat barefooted and only in your dressing gown!"
Sherlock sneezed loudly three times in a row and then huffed with annoyance.
"My head is pounding, I can't think!" He protested while wrinkling his nose in indignation.
John sighed heavily.
"No wonder, you have a high fever. Just stay in bed and wait till the medicines I gave you will kick in."
"I won't, staying in bed is boring!" Sherlock stated defiantly, sat up and folded his arms on his chest.
"Sherlock, lie down!" A note of warning could be heard in John's voice. He used that tone to his most problematic patients at the hospital.
"No!" Holmes pouted like a stubborn child, ostentatiously not looking at John.
"Lie. Down." John repeated more force
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
Late Night ShenanigansSummary: John is trying to sleep. Sherlock isn't letting him. So John shuts him up in his own way. Fluff.Late Night Shenanigans3 years ago in Romance More Like This
Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
John rolled over in bed, trying to find a position that would let him sleep. He was exhausted, but tonight just wasn't his night. His leg throbbed from when he'd banged it against a metal bar, and his right shoulder sent flashes of pain every time he moved. Of course he over-extended it catching their guy. Bloody criminals never knew when to give up.
By some miracle he actually found a comfortable position. He soon drifted off into a mostly-asleep state. Oh well, it was good enough for him.
He had a few blissful minutes of rest before his bedroom door slammed open.
John groaned and tried to cover his ears with his pillow. Sherlock's voice still made it through to his ears.
"and I wracked my mind but I could not identify the compound, and that is entirely unacceptable, so I decided to experiment with known compounds
ExperimentJohn?Experiment3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I need you to come get me...
They won't let me leave.
Why not? What did you do?!
I'm too drunk.
Ha! You?! Drunk?! There's a new one!
Ok, ok, I'm sorry. I'll be right there.
The pub on the corner right?
Would you stop laughing at me?
After all the times I picked you up from this pub!!
I'm almost there.
John walked over to Sherlock who was sitting at the counter. John greeted the bar tender, took Sherlock's wrist, and helped him stand.
"I can -walk- John!" Sherlock hissed, pulling his wrist out of John's grasp.
And he seemed to be right. He lead the way out the exit and looked up and down the street. Something about Sherlock, being drunk never affected him. He could talk perfectly fine, walk perfectly straight, think perfectly annoyingly as always... The only thing the alcohol may do to him is ge
The deductions of one John WatsonWarning - Slash! Don't like dont read.The deductions of one John Watson3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Disclaimer - I do not own Sherlock /3
and please enjoy and let me know what you think
It should have been obvious to me from the moment that that I walked into the living room at Irene's house that Sherlock was indeed in love with this women. The wonderful, mystery that was Irene Adler had caught the attention of my friend, my companion, my reason for living, Sherlock Holmes. When he thought her died the emotion he felt towards her, the sadness in the song he wrote, the sadness in even his cold hearted eyes it was almost too much to bare.
I had to wonder if he'd feel that way for me. Would he almost cry at the thought of me died? Would he run to the end of the earth to save me, like I know he'd done for her when he thinks I'm stupid enough to believe Mycroft's story of her death. Sherlock may have been able to fool his brother into his cold-heartedness but me it was more difficult. I'd seen the way her very smile had caused his heart to flutter
Adventures to Come"Hello, Sherlock Holmes," the Doctor says quietly. He looks at the baby, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. "Bit different now, isn't it? You don't-" he picks the infant up, holds him close to his chest so Sherlock's enormous grey eyes are close to his. "-You don't know me yet. But you will."Adventures to Come3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
The baby yawns, then smiles happily at the Doctor, grabbing for his nose with clumsy little fingers. "Ammapana! Awawaa'a."
"Yes, you will." he shifts Sherlock's weight. "You and I, we're going to have some adventures. You have a great life ahead of you, Sherlock." He smiles and breathes in the new-baby smell on Sherlock's wispy curls, bouncing the baby slightly. Sherlock giggles. "Yes, you're going to be a great man someday."
"Doctor?" Sherlock says, plucking at a tweed jacket sleeve. "You'll take me with you, won't you?"
The Doctor ruffles the boy's hair. "Take you where?"
"Wherever you're going. In your box. Take me on adventures!"
"Sherlock..." the Time Lord says, sitting on the boy's bed. "
BrothersMycroft wasn't sure what all the fuss was about. He watched the Baby sleeping in Mummy's arms, waiting for it to do something. Everyone said it was a beautiful baby. If that was the case, Mycroft wasn't sure he wanted to see any other babies, ever. It was almost absurdly small, with blotchy pink skin and one wispy dark cowlick of hair on its head. What was the point of babies, he wondered, rocking back on his feet. He was seven years old- practically grown, if you thought about it. What was he supposed to do with a baby brother?Brothers3 years ago in Drama More Like This
"What are you thinking, sweetheart?" Mummy said. He looked up from the Baby's face to hers. Her dark hair, usually pinned back, was curling loose around her face, and he couldn't help but notice the lines and shadows around her eyes.
"About the Baby," he said vaguely.
"Ah," she said, adjusting the Baby's weight in her arms. "Do you know his name?"
There had been almost no other word on his au pair's lips for the past three days. Mycroft smiled. He liked knowing
Everyone had bad dreams."It is said that in the final days of Planet Earth, everyone had bad dreams. To the west of the north of that world, the human race did gather, in a celebration of the pagan rite to banish the cold and the dark. Each and every one of those people had dreamt of the terrible things to come. But they forgot. Because they must. They forgot their nightmares. Of fire and war and insanity. They forgot. Except for one..."Everyone had bad dreams.3 years ago in Drama More Like This
- - - -
John Watson awoke with a start. He'd had the nightmare, the same nightmare he'd had for weeks now. That face laughing, taunting.
Sherlock was having nightmares too, but he said he'd forgotten them.
John pulled a hand through his hair, and sat up straight. The room was a bit of a blur. All he could make out were the red and green Christmas lights that Mrs. Hudson had draped across the room, as her little way to make the flat look festive. He waited for the dizziness to pass, and then made his way to the kitchen, where he found his flat-mate solving Su-Doku
Time Goes BySherlock, I'm being redeployed. JWTime Goes By3 years ago in Drama More Like This
How is that possible? And why? -SH
The letter says because they need someone with my expertise. JW
When do you have to go? -SH
I report a week from today. JW
John... I'm sure, if we contact Mycroft, he could do something. -SH
I don't know, Sherlock. Maybe. Could you come home? JW
I'll be there as soon as I can. -SH
Fifteen minutes later, the door unlocked and a very unhappy consulting detective entered the flat of 221B. He moved haughtily into the living room, removing his scarf. "Where are you, John?"
"Kitchen," John called. He was making tea to calm his nerves, though his hands were shaking. The dreadful letter lay opened on the table.
Sherlock went to the kitchen, his eyes immediaty zeroing in on the letter. He snatched it up, examining it carefully. His brain helpfully suggested reading it backwards or upside-down, in Italian or possibly Cantonese. But the letter was direct and legitimate, obviously from the military. He set the paper down, lookin
We Would Be Warm Below the StormJohn. Come home immediately. - SHWe Would Be Warm Below the Storm3 years ago in Romance More Like This
John's eyebrows furrowed; Sherlock was pushy, no doubt about that, but there was something odd about this. John knew urgency when he heard it, and he heard it in Sherlock's text.
OK. I'm at the store. I just have a few more things.
He put it back in his pocket and went back to looking for his crisps. Literally two seconds later his pocket pinged again.
Leave the bloody shopping. Come home *now.* - SH
John didn't even think twice. He left his basket in the middle of the aisle and ran out of the store and into the rain. What had been dark and foreboding skies when he entered the store were now horrendous buckets of rain, but since he didn't have any food to carry, he decided to walk. (He knew that it would take longer to try and get a cab, seeing as everyone else was trying to, and even if he managed to get one the rain would just delay his arrival even more). He could always just change clothes when he
For No OneFor No One3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"John, please, open the door."
Sherlock stood outside, his ear pressed against the locked door, listening for any signs of recognition from John. When none came, he hit the door angrily and, ignoring the searing pain coming from his fist, sat down beside the door.
The detective ran over the past half hour's events carefully in his mind, looking for some defect in his seemingly flawless plan. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and replayed it all over again:
9:00 pm- Sherlock had tiptoed quietly up the steps, knowing that each step brought him closer to John. He made sure Mrs. Hudson didn't hear him. She'd spoil the surprise.
9:01 pm- When Sherlock stood outside the flat's door, he wasn't sure he was ready to knock. He couldn't help but worry that John might be angry, as much as he wanted to believe that his friend would be happy to see him. He begins to pace.
9:05- Finally, the consulting detective raps the door lightly. He holds his breath as he hears footsteps coming. They stop,
Wrong DeductionSherlock was sitting in the chair, holding a cuppa in one, a book in the other hand. He wasn't reading, but observing his flat mate who had fallen asleep on the couch. The television was showing a stupid show. No wonder John had fallen asleep, Sherlock thought. How could people possible want to watch something like that?Wrong Deduction3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
He was bored, but the idea popping up in his head didn't seem to be. A devilish grin appeared on Sherlock's face. It wasn't boring at all, to observe Johns reactions. Thinking about what he should do to him, Sherlock put away his tea and the book. Maybe he should blow up a paper bag near Johns ear? Sherlock decided not to, because he didn't want to wake him up. Oft enough his flat mate stayed up all night in order to help Sherlock with his work as a consulting detective.
Sherlock frowned. He didn't seem to come up with any good ideas that would allow John to keep on sleeping. Now he was annoyed, so he went in front of the couch as quiet as he could. Now he c
Sherlock and JohnSherlock destroyed, and John fixed.Sherlock and John3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Sherlock ripped apart, piece by piece, and John patiently put back together, stitch by stitch.
Sherlock tore, scratched, clawed, and John soothed, cleaned, and bandaged.
Sherlock swore in anger, and John laughed in pure joy.
Sherlock screamed, and John whispered.
Sherlock was the burning fire, and John was the cooling ice.
Sherlock was the destructive half of John, and John was the calming side of Sherlock.
Sherlock tore himself apart, and John pieced him back together.
InsomniaInsomnia (n.) in·som·ni·aInsomnia3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
inability to obtain sufficient sleep, especially when chronic; difficulty in falling or staying asleep; sleeplessness.
221b Baker Street was calm and silent. Not a sound was made by anything, except for John's soft breathing and the annoying ticking of the clock. If you were to enter the flat at 221b, you would witness a very exhausted man alone in his bed, as he usually was, kept awake by the horror that was his brain. The room was pitch black. The silence was absolutely tormenting. It breathed insanity as it engulfed the poor man tumbling about in his bed, tossing and turning until he gave up on a seeking some comfortable arrangement. Gunshots continued through his fatigued mind as he searched for a form of comfort in the deep quiet. It was all in vain. Insomnia stumbled through the door, uninvited, in the most impolite manner. He took his seat next to th