London to Edinburgh I"Yes!" Exclaimed the consulting detective, jumping over the coffee table, clutching the letter tightly.London to Edinburgh I2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
"Another case?" called John from the kitchen.
"Oh no John, this isn't just another case." Sherlock grinned, waving the letter in his flatmates face. "This is an exceptional case."
Deciding to indulge his curiosity, John abandoned his attempt to make tea and turned to face the taller man who was now re-reading his letter. "And what makes this case so much more interesting than the others?"
"It's in Scotland. Edinburgh to be precise."
John shifted his weight and tried to look uninterested. "Oh. Has someone been murdered?"
Sherlock took no notice of this as he was now twirling around the kitchen explaining that the crown from Edinburgh castle had been stolen then replaced a few days later then stolen again. John listened patiently, all the while hoping Sherlock would not pay any attention to him. If Sherlock laid his eyes on him he would calculate everything in a nanosecond.
The Detective and His Blogger12:00The Detective and His Blogger2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I'm at work Sherlock.
I'm aware of your location.
I mean I'm busy.....
No you're on break.
That's beside the point. I could be busy.
But you're not. And I'm bored.
So do an experiment or something.
So drop by Bart's and ask Molly for something. I'm sure she would love to see you.
Yes. But I'd rather not see her.
That's not nice Sherlock.
No it isn't. But why is that relevant?
Why do I bother?
Bother with what?
Nothing. Never mind.
John have you ever thought about us in a romantic sense?
Where the hell did that come from?!
Ms. Hudson just came up. Made a comment about the two of us being so sweet together when she saw I was texting you at the clinic. Everyone else seems to think of us as more than friends.Just curious.
Oh. Well yeah. I suppose.
And I think it sounds
The kiss of nights comfortThe kiss of nights comfort2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Another man down.
Another friend down.
"Noo. . ." John murmurs in his sleep, his head moving to the other side of his pillow.
Another gunshot, followed by a loud boom as dirt flies into the air and comrades fall.
"Noo. . . noo. . ." He says more urgently, like a quiet, desperate cry.
The image changes.
It's Sherlock, on the roof of the hospital again.
The scene replayed in his head.
Sherlock sending his 'note' and jumping.
"SHERLOCK!" John bolts upwards, wide awake and breathing hard. He looked around, making sure that he was still there in his bedroom of 221b Baker Street. His and Sherlock's flat.
"That was two years ago John, calm down, Sherlock is fine." He said to himself, throwing his blanket back over his shoulder and laying his head on the pillow. He sighed, his breath back to normal. A light passed by the window, caused by a passing car. The faint sound of a siren wailing in the night. He turned away from the window and started drifting back to sleep. He was almost a
Wreak This JournalWhen you have grown accustomed to the general clutter that is practically attached to the younger Holmes, it is natural to assume that the older is also as untidy. Sherlock's flat is a mass of papers, case files, and, during one memorable drugs bust, body parts. I don't know how John can stand it sometimes.Wreak This Journal2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
So, when Mycroft finally asked me if I wanted to move in with him I was exited and slightly terrified. I had never seen his home before which is kind of weird when we have been dating for almost a year but I hadn't brought it up, fearing that it could be classified data and that he would have to kill me after telling me. Fortunately I survived and noticed that, as well as the spaciousness of the flat, it was impeccably clean. No sheep's intestines in the freezer, no dead octopuses in the bath, everything was where it should be. That's when I noticed it.
Mycroft is a clean freak.
No, freak is the wrong word. He is obsessed with keeping things in unnatural order. Several times
Sherlock Holmes and the curious incident of...'Like I said I am sorry Sherlock!' I protested my innocence once more over the hum-drum tones of one Mister Sherlock Holmes hasten violin playing. Even though no words fell from his lips, there was not a need, every note emitting from his instrument let me know how he felt through the medium of song. It wasn't a happy song. His back turned from me in retaliation to every angle and sidestep I make to meet his vision and begin to try to explain myself. For a second, almost, it seemed as if Holmes had alleviated himself from the burden my incident had caused him, lifting his bow a quarter inch from the violins strings, but my perception of this event was wrong. Holmes halted his playing purely out of curiosity of if I remained in the room, and once my presence was detected in the corner of his sharp right eye the violin came alive yet again with a tune yet more wearisome than before. He had won. Again.Sherlock Holmes and the curious incident of...8 months ago in Short Stories More Like This
'Okay then, have it your way. I give in.' I announced, turning my back on the great chi
Incantations and Deductions SHObviously it took years for them to ever get around to speaking to each other. Sherlock reasoned that it was natural: as well as being in different, some might even say rival, houses, there was also the social class divide and the fact that Sherlock always gave off the general air of someone who never wanted to talk to anyone, in his life, ever. As a general rule Sherlock felt that unless someone was directly benefitting him by being alive in his presence he would do his best to tolerate them, but if not they could bloody well bugger off and do their dull living /breathing /sleeping /eating /talking /having fun business somewhere else.Incantations and Deductions SH3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
His mother said it was just his age, that teenage years were awkward, his anti social nature was a phase he was going through. Sherlock rather suspected that it wasn't so much his age as his life. And he wasn't awkward, he was perfectly poised. It was the rest of the world that was awkward and unpredictable and usually mundane but occasionally
Johnlock"Sherlock, I don't understand." John Watson looks at his flatmate, Sherlock Holmes, deeply in the eyes.Johnlock2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"What's there not to understand, John?" Sherlock seems to pin John in his place with his gaze.
"You said that..." John looks down at his feet, not knowing where else to go with that statement.
"That, I did, John, and what's your answer?" He stares down at the ex-army doctor.
"Yes." John looks up at his friend and bites his lip.
"Yes?" Sherlock looks at him, a slightly amused expression on his face.
"Yes. Why did you ask me, out of anyone you know you asked me. Why?"
"Because I know you...and I trust you." John smiles at Sherlock.
"Really?" Sherlock nods.
"I always have." John smiles wider.
"Thank you." Sherlock looks at him, genuinely puzzled.
"Asking me to come along." Sherlock shrugs noncommittally.
"Like I said. I trust you above everyone else." John smiled again.
"Do you want to go back to the flat, make some tea?" Sherlock shrugs again.
"Might as well...Lestrade is s
Oneword: ClueOneword: Clue2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
John couldn't help chuckling at the idea. The world's only consulting detective, stumped and frustrated by a simple game of Cluedo! He had treated the game like a real-life murder scene, insisting that the characters must have motives, and that the murderer must have left behind evidence. "There must be some way to investigate the crime scene," he had insisted, "Aren't there signs of empirical evidence on this board?"
Finally, as the night grew long and Sherlock's patience had worn thin, the inadequate playing board had found itself pinned to the mantle with a dull knife, its entertainment value thoroughly exhausted.
And for his insolence, John had found himself pinned beneath the self-proclaimed victor.
Oneword: BenchOneword: Bench2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
John glanced at the clock and was surprised to see how late it had gotten. Indeed, the light coming in the window had taken on an orange hue as the sun began to set. "Where are you?" he texted to Sherlock, who had promised to be home by 3.
"Look outside," came the reply.
John sighed and got up to peer out the window. There, on the park bench across the street, was Sherlock, his pale skin basking in the rare sunlight as he threw the remainder of last week's case evidence to the pigeons.
WoofAs soon as the dog woke up, it knew it hadn't been a dog before.Woof2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The day was a new one and the sun was weak, but the light was strong and there was a faint mist slowly rolling over the skyline like a poltergeist's shadow. The streets were lazy as a Sunday can be when nobody has to work and everybody sleeps in; and so not many people noticed the scruffy golden spaniel struggling to fight its way out of a cardboard FedEx box, crammed against a grimy drain pipe alongside a fit-to-bursting blue recycling tub. In the end the box toppled over and the dog tumbled onto the pavement with a distressed yelp, not a cry of: 'ow!' like it had been expecting. It tried again, wondering if the gruff bark had been the effects of a sore throat; but- as before- only a hound's voice passed its tongue.
The dog grumbled, batting and pawing at the ground as it tried in vain to stand upright on its hind legs. It wobbled and stumbled like a new-born deer; disorientated and trembling. Once again, it f
The Case of Missing Mr MonocleFive-year old Sherlock was not the teddy bear type, but he had to admit; this particular bear was beginning to grow on him. It'd been Mycroft's idea to give to him as some sort of joke, and, to Sherlock's dismay; his mother went along with it.The Case of Missing Mr Monocle2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"It'll help you make friends!" she insisted.
What friends? Even as a kid, he'd looked at the other kids his age with their glue-slurping habits and deemed them: unworthy. He didn't want any friends.
The bear was pale caramel in colour with black button eyes and a constant expression of scrutiny on its furry face. It was dressed in a silk black suit jacks, equip with a tiny fob-watch and a plastic pipe that created bubbles when you blew into it. Its main item of clothing, however, was a paper thin, fake monocle that magnified the right button eye. It resembled a mad, absent-minded professor with a tendency to lose his temper. It was oddly amusing and had earned the name: Mr Monocle.
Like any other toddler, Sherlock had taken Mr Monocle with him as
NightmareOne shotNightmare2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Every night for months the dream haunted John.
John was looking up at the roof top. He was talking on the phone with Sherlock; his heart racing, mind numb with anxiety. Don't do this Sherlock, don't let this happen.
Listening to his best friend confess himself a fraud. Though he couldn't see, he could hear the precious tears in Sherlock's voice. That's not the truth, Sherlock. I'll never believe it.
The sound of flesh and bone impacting on the unforgiving pavement.
"NO, no let me through. I'm a doctor. He's my friend." The lifeless body, the milky blue eyes empty of intelligence; the blood splattered face, the huge pool of warm blood coagulating on the sidewalk. John gripping the long fingered, elegant hand. No pulse, nothing. John was bone-less, heartbroken, bereft. Then the rain started; the cold, heart-less rain to wash Sherlock's blood into the common street.
"Sherlock," John whimpered as he woke into the desolation that was their sha
Oneword: RunawayOneword: Runaway2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
John shuffled home from a long, menial day at work. He drudged up the stairs and stood in the door frame of 221B. Everything was exactly how he had left it. No thumbs in the fridge, no chemicals burning away on the kitchen table, no violin wavering away through the air and no gangly detective sitting in the leather armchair. John glanced at his own chair, despairing the thought of another day sitting in it with nobody across from him.
Instead of taking his jacket off and settling in, he turned back around and hurried down the steps. He had barely remembered to lock the door behind himself before sprinting away down Baker street, trying to escape everything that reminded him of Sherlock.
the breaking of trust ch2the breaking of trust ch23 years ago in Emotional More Like This
the breaking of trust
Pitch black and he could feel Watson's hands running up and down his body, he gave out a little moan. His zipper was going down Sherlock breathed in sharply, then woke up. He's unwashed hair slicked back and the thick stubble was something most unlike him and the one prod striking blue eyes had become blood shot and tried from the insomnia that had started for the night Watson left. "Three days and still nothing" he voice crackled. The phone on the table vibrated so Sherlock rolled of the softer and ran over to it he got to it as it stopped ringing after three rings then a text came throw "help me?" he thought about it for a few seconds "WATSON" he was passing back and forth "where are you. I need something other than a text" he was trying to focused but from the lake of sleep the gears in his head weren't turning and he was getting frustrated and angry "AA WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!!" he shouted to himself. A three pat knock on the door and
Ties4:03Ties1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
Are you milking the cow yourself?
You left two hours ago to get milk. Are you milking her yourself, or is this some sort of death match with the chip and pin machine?
I told you I was going to the pub and then I'd get milk on the way home.
You didn't say a word about the pub.
True – I said I was going out. Which almost always translates to – I'm going to the pub.
Shouldn't there be quotations marks in there somewhere?
Can you just stuff it?
Can I? Yes, I suppose I am physically capable.
Prat. Will you just stuff it?
No. I'm bored.
Fine. I'll just ignore your messages then.
John, I seem to be experiencing difficulty breathing...
Nice try, Sherlock.
Oh, never mind. It was just shortness of breath caused by laughter at your ridiculous threat.
And what is ridiculous about it?!
Well for one thing – you're still replying. You alwa
HandcuffedJohn woke up feeling a bit odd. His bed felt slightly warmer than usual and his soldier's instincts were kicking in and telling him that somebody was in the room staring at him. John shifted around carefully, and turned on his side to see exactly who was intruding in his room.Handcuffed2 years ago in Settings More Like This
John groaned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Sherlock was indeed staring at John. In fact, he was sitting right next to John on his bed, still wearing the same exact clothes he had been wearing last night. Somebody didn't go to sleep last night.
Pretending to ignore the man, John turned back over on his side and checked the clock on his bedside table. It read five o'clock, exactly on the dot. John shifted again to stare at Sherlock.
"Should I be glad that you at least gave me until early morning to sleep?" He asked sarcastically. Sherlock rolled his eyes lowered his head so that they were looking at each other in the eyes.
"John, I need help with an experiment." Sherlock said.
"Of course y
Too soon*Welcome in YouChat* - 27th July, 3.36 pmToo soon2 years ago in Profiles More Like This
*John221 has entered the chat*
John221: Unbelievable. But I'm here.
John221: Is anyone here?
John221: Ok, this is utterly ridiculous, I'm leaving
John221: ..talking to me?
User1895: Well, I'm typing, actually
John221: So you're typing to me
User1895: Precisely. It's not very crowded today, isn't it?
John221: Do you come here often?
User1895: Not so often. Most of the time it's populated by maniacs and aroused teenagers
John221: I must suppose you're not one of them, so. Heartening.
User1895: What about you?
John221: I'm not a maniac, I'm just here to spend my time but well is not a good period to me and no, maye I should not talk about this to a complete stranger. My therapist suggested me to write a blog, so maybe I'm supposed to confide to you but I'm not sure this is the right way and . uhm, sorry
User1895: I meant: what about you? What's your name? How old are you?
Ye Olde Chip 'n' PIN MachineIt had been installed just last week and already it was wreaking havoc among the aisles. It ate money, swallowed cards, rejected payments and receipts, and it was beginning to strike fear and stress into the hearts of the shoppers with its robotic cry of the terrifying announcement:Ye Olde Chip 'n' PIN Machine2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
'Unexpected item in bagging area."
The staff were at a loss.
"It's possessed by the Devil!" exclaimed one of the lowly cashiers at a staff meeting. "We must burn it at the stake or risk our first born!"
"It's a warning from God!" cried another.
"If we do not get rid of it, our entire supermarket kingdom will collapse!" another pointed out desperately.
The manager of the supermarket rubbed his temples, exasperated. He scanned his table of loyal employees who waited for his might decision. At last, he banged on the round table.
"I need a warrior to take on this trembling beast, to put it in his place and save us all," he demanded.
The staff shrank back, shaking their heads and blubbering.
"No, your Manager! W
Breaking Points chapter 13: HadrianLestrade woke up with his head throbbing in protest against the harsh light of the morning. He moved to sit up a little straighter, but found he couldn't move his hands. He struggled for a moment, the memories from last night flooding back, full of the hazy struggle.Breaking Points chapter 13: Hadrian1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Mycroft?" Lestrade asked, desperately looking around. "Mycroft!"
No one answered, and Lestrade started to panic. He was deep in the alleyway, far enough that he couldn't see the sidewalk or anyone walking by. He felt his phone move around in his pocket, but knew there was almost no way to reach it without doing serious damage to himself, in the least. How was he going to get out of this one?
Mycroft took in a deep breath of relief as the bag was removed from his head. He was tied tightly to a chair and his feet were bound to the legs, the only light was flooding down from a dusty window way up the wall of the room, casting an eerie shadow across the ground. He glanced around, his eyes desperatel
Freaky and his little Johnny - Prologue (ITA)Freaky and his little Johnny - Prologue (ITA)2 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Anche quella sera pioveva.
Grosse nuvole si erano addensate due giorni prima, verso mezzogiorno, e da allora lo scroscio d’acqua non aveva smesso di battere sulle case.
Le strade erano tristi e vuote, nessuno aveva voglia di uscire con quel tempaccio, erano tutti rinchiusi in casa o in un pub, per rallegrarsi e scaldarsi in compagnia.
Bé, non proprio tutti.
Nelle cantine di una delle case più antiche della città un’ombra si muoveva lentamente, sola e infreddolita, facendo tintinnare lievemente le catene che la tenevano legata.
Dopo molti giri a vuoto della cantina, l’ombra finalmente si sedette in un angolo, quello più lontano dalla finestrella sbarrata che dava sulla strada.
Odiava quella finestrella.
Gli dava una visione del mondo esterno che, seppur ristretta, lo faceva stare male, perché lui, di un maschio si trattava, rinchiuso in quella cantina, non sarebbe mai potuto uscire.
E in più quando pioveva, spesso faceva entrar
Over YouOver You2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Weather man said it's gonna snow
By now I should be used to the cold
John Watson turned on the radio just as he was sitting down to have his tea and toast. The radio blurted out it was going to be another white, wintry day with snow coming in for the rest of the week, making it cold and gray.
Perfect for how John felt about today and the last month.
John had lost his lover Sherlock to suicide just at the end of December, thanks to Jim Moriarty, who had shot himself on the roof before Sherlock jumped.
Mid-February shouldn't be so scary
It was only December
I still remember the presents, the tree, you and me
It was the end of the week and just like the weeks after Sherlock's death, John got ready to visit Sherlock's gravestone, located under a tree in the cemetery. As he got ready, he accidentally bumped a picture off the mantle where he was reaching for his scarf.
When he looked at it after he picked it up, his tears filled with tears at what it was. It was him and Sherloc
StoneMaybe if I appear cruel...Stone6 months ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Maybe if I treat him bad...
But no... He's just a fool.
And only ever gets mad.
Why won't he leave?
I am better alone.
Please let me be.
The man who's made of stone.
I can't get attached!
It'll hurt more when he goes.
It's better to be detached,
Than vulnerable or exposed.
They always go.
That's what they do.
That's how I know,
What to expect of you.
I let myself believe,
So I pushed you away,
That I wanted you to leave,
But I'd rather have you stay.
They ask me why I'm like this.
Why I'm cruel and so harsh.
But they never think that things could be amiss,
For a man who is said to have no heart.
I'm always waiting for the day.
For that last shoe to drop.
For the moment when you'll say.
"This really has to stop."
When it comes you will leave,
And I'll be all alone.
Left alone to silently grieve,
The man who softened stone.
Tickle"John, go away," Sherlock frowned. I chuckled and pinched him again. He made an unamused noise. It made me smile and I pinched him again. "John, go away I'm thinking."Tickle2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"You're no fun Sherlock," I frowned. I nudged him. He opened his eyes and glared at me. He was sprawled across the lounge, his hands in a prayer position. I sat on the ground next to him, enjoying annoying him.
"Now's not the time for fun John, it's the time for thinking," Sherlock said.
"What do you need to be thinking about? You've solved all of the cases," I replied.
"I need to stimulate my mind," Sherlock said, closing his eyes. A few minutes passed before I pinched him again.
"John! Please!" he cried out, his eyes flying open and giving me a third degree stare.
"Come on, you need to have some fun," I smiled. Sherlock grumbled something. He closed his eyes again and went back to thinking. "Hey Sherlock, are you ticklish?"
"What?" Sherlock asked, not looking at me.
"Are you ticklish?" I asked again.
"Don't be absurd J
I never thought......I never thoughtI never thought......3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Never thought I'd fall in love
Now I stand corrected
I can't help but smile at the sight of John sleeping next to me. He looks so peaceful, so innocent. You wouldn't believe he'd been in a war. But it doesn't matter how happy he is now, there are still scars. And there always will be. John slowly opens his eyes and smiles. "Did you sleep well?" I whisper and he replies with a kiss. I don't want to get up; I want to stay in this bubble forever. But I know it can't last. It's Tuesday and there's been a triple murder that needs to be solved. But murders happen all the time and I really can't be bothered to resolve all of them.
Never thought I'd feel what I feel
Never been so affected
I never thought I would ever find true love, especially not with Sherlock. At first I thought he was just strange and plain weird. But he's grown on me, in the best possible way. Its ten thirty and we should have been out solving crimes hours ago. Sherlock s