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
The Waiting GameThe purple dress shirt was torn, shredded from the fray it had endured. The collar was stained a deeper cerise from the gaping wounds at his face and neck, spouting blood like a fountain spouts water. His body lay limply on the stretcher as he was wheeled through the endless rush of the white, sterile halls of the hospital.The Waiting Game3 years ago in Drama More Like This
He followed his inert friend, concern tattooing his brow, and heart pounding out a frantic tribal beat that could be heard the world over. Someone, maybe the D.I, pulled on his sleeve, trying to get him to retreat, trying to get him out of the way of the running nurses and doctors who shouted orders for drugs and procedures in some strange, clandestine tongue.
He could be treating him...after all, he was a doctor, and a damn good one at that. He had seen wounds far worse then this, far more bloody and bruised.
...but the tears that pooled up on the bottom of the raw sienna eyes was enough to convince him that he wasn't the man for the job. Not this time.
He stood, p
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
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."
ExperimentSherlock was laying on the couch, presumably thinking, possibly asleep. John hardly ever had a chance to sit there himself, as Sherlock was always occupying it. John eyed him for a moment, and then something snapped and he decided to go ahead with the impulse he’d been secretly fighting. He came and stood over him minute before letting his knee rest next to Sherlock’s leg and leaning across with his arm on the back of the couch. Sherlock didn’t move, so he continued to climb on top of him.Experiment3 years ago in Romance More Like This
“John, what are you doing?” Sherlock asked lazily without opening his eyes.
“Experiment,” he replied cheekily.
“Really?” Sherlock’s voice dripped sarcasm.
“You’re not the only one who does experiments on his flat-mate.” John said matter-of-factly, settling himself along Sherlock’s full length and letting his head come to rest over Sherlock’s heart a
BBC Sherlock - Mrs HudsonIn the time Doctor John Watson had spent with Sherlock Holmes he had learned many of the man's strange little idiosyncrasies.BBC Sherlock - Mrs Hudson4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
The habit of sticking the post to the mantelpiece with a knife he discovered on the very first day. The emergency pack of cigarettes concealed in a small Persian slipper behind a stack of books took a while longer (It was unopened; much to Sherlock's pride the detective was doing remarkably well with quitting smoking.) The fact that, when Sherlock has exhausted himself with a case, his sleep is silent but on the rare occasions when he sleeps just for the sake of it he snores like a particularly troublesome drain unblocking took still longer to discover.
John had thought that he had found out all that there was to know about the detective in the near two years since he had first moved in with Sherlock. Although, he willingly admitted with a great deal of amusement, today had most definitely proved him wrong.
He had learnt three things today. One- You should never
BBC SH- Great Wall of PillowsJohn Watson knew for a fact he was a boring sleeper.BBC SH- Great Wall of Pillows3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Despite Sherlock's many quips about his snoring shaking plaster dust off the ceiling, John still was certain that his flatmate was joking and that in fact he was a placid, uneventful snoozer.
Sherlock however slept only sporadically. And when he did he would wriggle and mumble to himself in his sleep, as well as clutching onto anything within the reach of his sleepy arms and cuddling into it contentedly. But, even with John's firm guidance Sherlock could only be coaxed into a semi-regular sleep pattern and even then only when there was no case to be had.
John got the feeling however that this was not to be one of those nights.
They had spent the entire day chasing around Manchester in the course of a case and they had only resolved the matter after a tense chase through the city that had involved Sherlock misjudging a rugby tackle which sent him and the suspect flying into the River Mersey.
It was December. It was freezing. It
Fetch The Milk - A Sherlock Oneshot "There's no milk in the fridge, John, that's a problem." Sherlock said, casually stepping over a pile of miscellaneous household debris as he walked into the living room from the kitchen.Fetch The Milk - A Sherlock Oneshot3 years ago in Humor More Like This
"No, but there's a head, and apparently that's not " John grumbled, fully expecting his roommate not to hear the comment.
He was wrong.
"John," Sherlock sighed, exasperated. "I've already told you, it's to prevent coagulation, and there is no other feasible location to store it. But that's beside the point."
"Whose head is it, anyway?"
"Once again, irrelevant. Back to the matter at hand: Milk."
"Since when do you drink milk? Or, for that matter, store anything edible in that fridge?"
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
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
I Feel So Close To YouI Feel So Close To You3 years ago in Romance More Like This
There he was, falling away as the masked criminals pulled him away by his dark curls. "Sherlock" John yelled after him. Sherlock's cold eyes stared back silently at him mixed with an emotion he could not quite discern. "Sherlo-" and then the world was a sudden abyss of black and cold.
John awoke to the cold. A damned cold at that. Even during his tour in Afghanistan did the nights ever get this chilly. He opened his eyes to searing white and quickly closed them again. What the hell? He slowly opened his eyes once more and let the blinding light fade to focus. He realized the white light was snow. It was about 10 or 12 feet away from him and he...he looked around, he was under a rock? Quite literally John laid almost snuggly under a rock craig that stretched out ahead of him. Underneath him was hard rock and it's freezing temperature could be felt through John's wool jacket. It had to have be
Sherlock- ReunionATTENTION: CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE END OF SEASON 2. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE REINBACH FALL. Or, you know, do. If you don't care about spoilers.Sherlock- Reunion3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Sherlock Holmes was
John couldn't finish the sentence.
His hand curled and uncurled, the nervous tick that used to ail him returning. It had been doing that almost without stop since that day. The day that replayed in his memory over and over, each time bringing an overwhelming wave of emotion, mixing from disbelief to horror to pain that stabbed him in a place no bullet could ever puncture. Sherlock's arms pinwheeling, his iconic coat tails billowing like wings oh if only they had been wings to stop his fall. The pavement hadn't done a very nice job of it.
Sherlock Holmes was
John was limping again. Psychosomatic, his therapist said. Like Sherlock had said. The shock from the loss was bringing it back just like the tremor in his hand. Not that the therapist had been able to do anything about it. John didn't know
BBC Sherlock-Christmas DinnerJohn Watson rolled his eyes as he heard yet another smash coming from Sherlock's bedroom. He had never ventured past the (faintly-charred) door and had no ideas of the horrors which lurked within. But, he mused, given that it belonged to a man who kept eyeballs in the microwave and frequently attempted to create plastic explosives in the kitchen sink, chances are he probably had some nefarious experiments in there. Experiments which, to judge by the noise, were currently being knocked to the floor.BBC Sherlock-Christmas Dinner5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"Sherlock, we're going to be late." He called through the door.
"I know, I know!" Came the irritated response, coupled with a sound like a parrot being sat on.
"Mycroft specified 6:30. If we're to get to Holmes House in time we've got to leave in the next five minutes. Especially since taxis are always so scarce on Christmas eve." John said, re-reading the invitation he held in his hand.
"I know." There was a high pitched whizzing noise and a thud as something embedded itself i
Glass and BandagesGlass and Bandages3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"Ow! John, that hurt!" Sherlock yelled and whined at John.
So this is what it had come to, Sherlock thought bitterly. The world's only consulting detective, and one of its most brilliant inhabitants, reduced to a whinging, screaming child, just because of a few injuries. Specifically, glass in his feet. He felt so pathetic and weak.
John eyed him at these words, slight amusement etched into his raised eyebrow and subtle grin as he pulled another shard of glass from his friend's right foot (luckily, his left one had gone unscathed). He had been doing this for nearly an hour, and it hadn't been a pleasant affair for either one of them, he could tell you that much. Let's just say that picking glass out of his friend's dirty and bloody foot was not exactly his idea of a satisfying Saturday morning. And as if doing this wasn't unpleasant enough, every time he had removed a piece, it had always either resulted in Sherlock clenching his teeth, fists, or jaw, crying out in pain, yelli
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
Sherlock Holmes: Say What"Just shuffle to the side a bit Holmes. I think we're approaching this the wrong way."Sherlock Holmes: Say What5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Mrs. Marie Hudson paused in sweeping the landing to listen at the door of what might have been the most deplorably messy rooms in all of London. She had no doubt that her lodgers were up to another one of their strange pastimes, and it was always nice to be aware of what one's tenants were doing. After a year with them, after all, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson still managed to surprise her almost every day with their unusual activities.
"How should you know if we're approaching it properly, Watson? I hardly expect that you make this a habit."
"Well it's obviously not going to go in this way. Just move a bit to the right, would you?"
"I can't go any further right without going through the wall, my unobservant compatriot."
"Would you kindly stop leaning on me, Holmes? I can't do this much longer."
"It wouldn't be this difficult if you would stop squirming."
"I am squirming? Holmes, it's not going in
I Could Watch You For A LifetimeI Could Watch You For A Lifetime3 years ago in Romance More Like This
Running, running, more running. Thats what most of John's days now consisted off, that and watching the back of Sherlock's tailcoat, and broad shoulders, and slim waist, and....He always did this, getting caught up in Sherlock's appearance, but how could one not? With those tall cheekbones, sharp, silver eyes, and full lips....He did it again. He knew it wasn't healthy, he would never do more than look at Sherlock, but he was content to do that for the rest of his lifetime.
Sherlock and John stopped to breathe as their chase of the china-vase-thief was brought to an end, by cornering him into Lestrade's waiting people. Their breathe's came out heavy as both tried to regain their posture and John let out a chuckle at their struggle. Sherlock caught his eye and laughed once enjoying the way John's mouth turned at the edges with his grin and the small lines around his eyes crinkled. Once they f
BBC Sherlock-BabysittingJohn Watson rubbed his eyes wearily and summoned the last fragments of his patience. "Alright, run it by me one more time. You did what?"BBC Sherlock-Babysitting5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Sherlock Holmes was, for some unfathomable reason, sopping wet and covered in soap suds. His clothes were plastered to his skinny frame and he stood dripping in front of Watson's armchair, peering down at his friend through his sodden fringe. "I ran through a car wash." He explained, calmly, for the third time.
John sat back in his chair, his eyes closing despairingly, and asked the question again. "Why?"
"Chasing a suspect."
"And it didn't occur to you to go around the car wash instead of through it?" Then John remembered this was a guy who, on the very night he met him, got hit by a car whilst chasing a suspect. Sherlock may have been incredibly intelligent but the tunnel vision he got when a suspect was in sight often led him to do chronically stupid things. Rather like running through an operational car wash . . .
"Well, he w
BBC SH - Reunion - LestradeHis phone rang.BBC SH - Reunion - Lestrade3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Lestrade sighed and reached for it, noticing how Donovan looked over her shoulder at him from where she was driving the car. "Hello?"
"Sir," He recognised Evelyn's voice. Young, relatively new, he had recognised her potential when she first joined and helped her learn the ropes. As such Sergeant Evelyn 'Evie' Makepeace was fiercely loyal to him.
Even now after everything that had happened.
He sighed. "I'm not 'Sir' anymore Evie. I'm just Greg, remember?"
To her credit, Donovan tried not to look too smug at that.
"Whatever you say, Sir." Evie said, slightly darkly. "You need to get back, Sir. Fast."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"Someone you need to see."
" . . . You'll want to see for yourself, Sir."
"Wha . . . Look, alright . . . We're an hour and fifteen minutes away. Tell whoever it is they might want to go away and come back later."
There was a pause.
"He said he'd wait."
Lestrade frowned. That did sound odd. Informers never lingered long at the Yard for fear they mig
JohnMy words gush out like oil from a barrel- dark, toxic, bitter. They spill all over the couch and slosh onto the floor. I desperately want to make them stop, to scoop them all up and pour them back inside so I can hide them away in the space where all my other unwanted words go, but they keep on flowing, filling up the room, drowning me. I'm scared they'll drown John, too. I try to tell him that. Try to tell him to ignore what I'm saying, to leave me alone, to just leave, but he won't have any of that.John3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Because he's John- steady, dependable John- and without me telling him he seems to know exactly what I need. He pulls me into his arms as readily as he would a crying child, and in a lot of ways, that's just what I am. I lean into him, burying my face in his jumper so he won't see the sadness slipping between my eyelids and dripping down cheeks that shouldn't be half as rosy as they are. The knit smells of tea and calm. He is warm and solid and steady and safe.
Some days his
BBC Sherlock - OpheliaSherlock Holmes was currently laying half on the sofa and half on the floor, looking and feeling like a scarecrow that had had most of its stuffing removed. This awkward, sprawling position was far from comfortable but he didn't really have a whole lot of choice. At this point he was just grateful that breathing was a reflexive action because his normally infallible mind and body were currently in a state of rebellion.BBC Sherlock - Ophelia4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"Joooohn." He let out a low hoarse groan and then coughed at the effort that had required.
"What?" The doctor stuck his head around the door, tugging a comb through his short hair, eyebrows quirked curiously.
"John . . . Think 'm broken." Sherlock moaned into his arm.
"Seriously Sherlock, you should move." John said stepping over Dante who was sleeping stretched out on his back like a hairy grey draught excluder. "You'll do your back in if you stay in that position."
"Can't do your back in?"
John frowned slightly, reading bey
Ridiculous221b. I need your help, now. -SHRidiculous3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Sherlock, no. I'm on a date! -JW
This is more important. -SH
What is it? -JW
I've deleted forks. -SH
This afternoon while researching for the Whitfield case I apparently deleted the deceptively simple but necessary motor skills required in handling a fork.
draft: How the
draft: I'm not
So eat something with your hands! -JW
John this is important. Aren't you always saying I need to eat? -SH
And now I'm trying and you won't assist me. -SH
What a shame, guess I'll just have to go hungry. -SH
John sighed, pocketing his phone just as Katherine returned from the bathroom. She smiled at him. "Miss me?"
He tried not to make eye contact. "Erm, not exactly...there's a bit of an emergency at the flat."
She raised her eyebrows.
"I, um, I have to go...help Sherlock. He accidentally...well." He grimaced. "Look, I'm really sorry. I know you were looking forward- I mean, you could just come with me. To the flat. Get...take-out or something?"
BBC Sherlock - GladstoneDr. John Watson bounced eagerly on the balls of his feet, trying to fight the urge to start grinning like an idiot. He felt like a child on Christmas Eve, all delighted energy and frustration that things were moving too slowly. For goodness sake, I've invaded Afghanistan, I've been shot in war, killed a serial killer in cold blood and now I'm acting like a three year old hyper on sugar! He mentally berated himself, but found he was too happy to care really. Sometimes acting like a child is good for the soul.BBC Sherlock - Gladstone4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Sherlock Holmes looked sideways at him and couldn't quite stifle a small, indulgent smile. "You're mad, you know that?" He said, but his tone didn't match his words.
"Yeah." John beamed at him.
The smile widened and Sherlock looked away, shaking his head.
Currently they were stood in the waiting room of the local RSPCA centre, accompanied by a man with a flatulent parrot in a cage and a woman sat next to a carrier containing something that was either a ferret or an ewok. The
Q and A TranscriptQ and A Transcript3 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
Matthew Sweet: I'd like to introduce you first to the co-creator of Sherlock and the writer of the Hounds of Baskerville, Mark Gatiss! Lovely work on the stairs there. Brilliant. Sit down. And to the producer of Sherlock, Sue Vertue! Come on. Come on down. We don't have the hound here tonight, do we?
Sue Vertue: No, we don't.
Matthew Sweet: No. I did notice a bit of, that wasn't fog, was it? That was the air conditioning. Um, and the star of Sherlock himself Benedict Cumberbatch. Here he is! Now, uh, he's [Steven Moffat] not back yet so I think we may just have to, let's just get on. We'll have the thunderous applause when he comes in the room. He won't feel at all self-conscious when he comes back from, um, his latest mission. Shall I hand that back to you? (Hands mike to steward)
Mark Gatiss: Everyone ask him [Steven Moffat] if it was one or two.
Matthew Sweet: Let's leave that one [seat] free so he doesn't have to crawl over. Now, listen, this story has been told many, ma