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
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
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
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
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
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
Incantations and Deductions Chapter TwelveThe expression of shocked surprise on Sherlock's face would almost be comical if John felt anything like laughing. Someone died after jumping from John's window: of course Sherlock would want to check out the room. Obviously Sherlock's surprised that anyone as 'dull and mundane' as John could have worked out his plans.Incantations and Deductions Chapter Twelve3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"John." Sherlock begins and then seems to just stop.
John rolls his eyes. "It's alright, I know why you're here, I'm not going to bother you, just wanted to make sure you didn't do any weird experiments on my stuff."
Sherlock just nods, seemingly nervous. He doesn't move; it's as if his feet are rooted to the rug he's standing on.
"Aren't you going to get on with it, then?" John asks. He knows his tone is blunt, and if he's honest, verging on rude, but he's not the one who has just broken into someone else's room. It seems especially egregious after nine months of no contact between the two of them.
"Well, I-" Sherlock starts again and then breaks off his eyes darting up
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
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
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?"
Incant and Deduct Chapter 9Chapter NineIncant and Deduct Chapter 94 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
John is determined.
This year will be different. He isn't going to let the incident affect his life anymore. It had happened nine months ago, it was time to get over it.
He's going to move back into the Gryffindor dorm. He is, he is. He's a fifth year now he can't sleep in his own cordoned off bedroom because he has pathetic nightmares. He'll be taking his O.W.Ls at the end of the year; he's damn well not going to wimp out, crying off due to illness.
It's not as if he's actually ill, really, the twinge in his leg is nothing, and yes, he has a hideous scar on his shoulder but the physical therapy he's been doing over summer has meant that he has managed to strengthen his muscles. He might even make it back onto the Quidditch team; they've been doing abysmally since John has been unable to fulfil his role as keeper. And he's been doing really well getting back to the old John Watson, the Quidditch keeper and good friend, rather than the shadowy stranger he had bec
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."
The Friendly Sniper Part 1Fandom: BBC SherlockThe Friendly Sniper Part 13 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Summary: Six months after The Fall, John returns to St. Barts for the first time. This sudden change of routine with no explanation puts everyone on edge. Post-Reichenbach. Sequel to The Dirty Grave.
"Oi... Cindy?" Jenna called from the window hesitantly. She turned her head but kept her eyes on the man standing across the street. The other nurse raised her head from the computer at the nurse's station to look at her questioningly. "He's back again," Jenna explained.
Cindy's focus shifted as she rose to her feet. As she walked to stand by her co-worker, the redhead's eyes studied the strange man leaning lightly on a hospital issued cane. "He looks even worse than last time. How long has he been there?"
"I dunno. I just noticed him," Jenna answered with a small shake of her head. "He's soaked through though, so he must have been standing there a while."
Cindy clicked her tongue with disapproval. "He'll catch his death if he stands out there much longer
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 - Gladstone5 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
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
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- Reunion4 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
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
I Was The One Who Cared After AllI Was The One Who Cared After All3 years ago in Romance More Like This
It was a calm evening at 221b, which came as a surprise to John. It had been weeks since their last case and the latter one had consisted of unruly experiments day and night that stretched from counting the number of times John breathed within an hour as he slept (from which he had been so rudely awakened, Sherlock's face mere inches from his) to Sherlock releasing a pack of mice in the apartment to trace their flight movements, and of course John had to clean up every single mess Sherlock left behind.
Lucky for John, Sherlock had decided instead tonight to focus on composing as John listened silently to the violin melodies, shrills, and soft notes that drifted up the stairs into his room. John sat at his desk having spent the last few hours focused on paperwork from the clinic. The music was relaxing and John almost let himself lapse into a since of calm as his lids began to close until, su
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
SH: HeadspaceSH: Headspace3 years ago in Humor More Like This
Warning: violence references (crime scene)
"There's something not missing!"
John blinked, sharing a look of surprise with Lestrade. As odd as most of Sherlock's outbursts were, that was one of the strangest. At least in the last week or so.
Sherlock was pacing madly, hands fluttering and grasping at the empty air. John grimaced as he noted the red smears his feet left on the plastic path someone had laid down. Gore and blood lined the walls, even some clumps dripping obscenely from the ceiling, but the filth didn't bother Sherlock.
Nor him, really. Which spoke volumes about them both. Even Lestrade was uneasy as he waited for Sherlock's brilliant deduction and next course of action, refusing to move more than a few feet from John.
"What's he going on about?"
John chuckled, digging his hands into his pockets and shrugging. "I don't think we want to know."
"Shut up!" Sherlock snarled, whirling and glarin
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
Oneword: RunawayOneword: Runaway4 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.
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