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
SH-The Ghost of Covent Garden1John Watson was rapidly losing his patience. His jaw was clenched, his teeth were gritted and he could feel a vein twitching in his forehead. He knew his poker face left much to be desired and even now he could feel his expression dissolving into one of utter disgust.SH-The Ghost of Covent Garden14 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
That however was nothing compared to the expression of outright loathing on Sherlock Holmes's face.
John looked as though he was two inches away from slapping their 'client'. Sherlock looked as though he was two millimetres from going for John's gun.
Their client was a young woman who was thin, verging on emaciation, and almost offensively blonde. She was a professional classic soprano at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden. They had already heard a lot too much about her 'big break' at the opera house, her 'darling' audience and her precious muse. Both John and Sherlock had already noted the girl's jittery demeanour and bad habit of sniffing regularly, and were both of the opinio
Sherlock : TextsThank you. Please, take care of him. Watch after him SHSherlock : Texts3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Oh, I know. I'll water him twice a week Molly
Don't, Molly. Don't try to joke SH
Sorry - Molly
How is he? SH
Depressed. He misses you Molly
I knew he would. SH
How about you? How are you? Molly
Bored. And terrified by food. That bigos thing looks strange SH
Oh! I heard it's good! Fetch me some? Molly
How? I won't be in London for... I don't know how long SH.
Here, have a picture of bigos SH
You're right. It looks strange Molly
He got himself a puppy Molly
Oh God. It's worse than I thought SH
Yup. It's a bulldog. Gladstone! It's drooling everywhere and it's rather lazy Molly
He should have gotten himself a Labrador. At least he didn't call him Sherlock SH
He was thinking about it. I told him it was stupid Molly
Thank you SH
He has a girlfriend Molly
Her name is Mary. She's nic
Obsessed With Sherlock Holmes Top 45 Ways You Can Pretty Much Be Sure You Are A SherlockianObsessed With Sherlock Holmes3 years ago in Academic Essays More Like This
1. You've called every "consulting detective" in the book and told them to get real.
2. Whenever you answer the phone, you ask, "Afghanistan or Iraq?"
3. You have or will live(d) in a '221 B Baker Street' come hell or high water.
4. When someone asks you why you do something, you reply, "That's what people DO!"
5. BBC, Granada, Warner Bros... you've seen them all.
6. In the shows, the Holmes is always perfect for the Watson, and vice versa.
7. You have your Watson...(and maybe you even call him Watson?)
8. No matter who it is, Holmes' portrayal is spot on.
9. You analyze people to the point where it's just plain creepy.
10. You do your research.
11. Rache or Rachel?
12. You know someone who lowers the IQ on the entire street.
13. Constantly show up the police, give them credit anyway.
14. You ship EVERYone.
15. Football and five kids....
16. You get the previous two.
17. You know what happened between Adler and Holme
BBC SH - Unspoken TruthsThere is no terror comparable to a nightmare.BBC SH - Unspoken Truths3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Certainly, terrible things happen in the waking world and they shatter your heart into glassy shards of pain. But after a while the feelings become too big to comprehend. You just feel numb. You tell yourself that you must be asleep, that none of this is real. A simple act of kindness from your brain in an attempt to deal with the dreadful reality. Shh, it says, it's alright, you may be asleep. You may wake up yet . . .
Of course you never do, but you can cling to that tiny little notion and use it as your lifeline until your heart settles enough to process the truth. You see that the horror is real. You waver but stand tall. Then you gently let go of the comfort of delusion and take your first step on the road to acceptance.
Nightmares have so such sense of mercy. Nightmares worm black tendrils deep into the heart of you and find the piece that hurts the most, curling around it and whispering treacherously that this is your reality now.
Home- BBC Watson x Reader Chpt. 1221B Baker St.Home- BBC Watson x Reader Chpt. 11 year ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
You wondered if your brother, Sherlock, would be surprised to see you or if he would have anticipated your return. You hoped he’d be surprised as you adjusted the duffle over your shoulder. You rummaged around in the pocket of your military issue camouflage pants for the set of keys you always carried.
You hadn’t bothered to change when the plane had landed, instead opting to go straight home in uniform, pulling off your jacket to reveal the white tank top underneath so you could enjoy the cool London air.
Quickly unlocking the door, you forced yourself to take the stairs slowly and with the upmost stealth even though you were itching to bound up them excitedly. You carefully skipped the squeaky step, holding your dog tags so they wouldn’t clink together as you did, and came to a stop in front of the door. You caressed the knob lightly with a slight smile- Home.
It was unlocked you noted, meaning he was home or that Mrs. Hudson was cleaning, but t
BBC Sherlock - Rugby and ChaosJohn Watson was so drunk that if you put a wick in his mouth and lit it the sheer amount of alcohol in his system meant that he would probably burn for a fortnight or more.BBC Sherlock - Rugby and Chaos4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
His old regiment was back from Afghanistan on leave and some of the soldiers, both active and discharged, had decided to meet for a round of drinks and a catch up.
As soon as the small, tawny-haired man walked through the door of the Dozy Panda pub (bizarrely enough considering the unorthodox name it was largely frequented by military personnel as the food was good, the alcohol cheap and the landlord was a very strange man who provided much amusement . . .) he had been greeted with a bellowing round of cheers from his fellow soldiers and he couldn't have stopped his massive smile if he had tried. The relief upon seeing so many familiar faces was absolutely great.
John, being the amiable man that he was, was well liked amongst the soldiers particularly because, out of the twenty seven men in the room, he had saved fo
The Three People to See Sherlock's HeartThe Three People to See Sherlock's Heart3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Sherlock Holmes had a heart. A strong, athletically trained (from all that running, climbing, and jumping of course) moderately healthy considering the abuse it had had to take, heart. After all, he was still young.
Sherlock Holmes' heart beat at fifty beats per minute when at rest, and upwards to near two hundred when he was running really hard. These were the facts. He'd never had a murmur or a skipped beat in his life- Sherlock's heart was as practical to his uses and as mechanical as the rest of him.
Or so he thought.
The first one to notice that Sherlock Holmes possessed a much more tender heart than anyone else ever thought was Mrs. Hudson. Sure, Mycroft in his own way had noticed a kind of vulnerable and soft spot near his brother's impenetrable center, but he possessed the same rational that Sherlock did and paid little attention. Mrs. Hudson on the other hand saw something in this callous young detective, the way his silvery eyes sparked with excitement when he would talk of h
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
Moriarty x reader Chpt. 1- The BakerWe need help.Moriarty x reader Chpt. 1- The Baker1 year ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Those were the last three words that John had ever thought would come out of Sherlock’s mouth.
Even Sherlock seemed rather disgusted by the notion, but it was true nonetheless, and it wasn’t doing them any good to ignore it. He knew that there was something he was missing. He had been going over the case for days now to no avail and time was running out.
Sherlock scowled as he pulled out his phone and dialed the number of the person he despised most and waited as it rang twice before a voice answered, “This is a pleasant surprise Sherlock. But, as you know I’m very busy, I shall assume that there is a pressing reason for you calling.”
“I need to know where she is Mycroft.”
John jumped, had Sherlock just called Mycroft willingly? This couldn’t be real. He pinched himself to make sure which Sherlock noticed rolling his eyes.
“If that is all you are calling for then let me get back to my work because I shan’t be tel
3 Pond talesMelody kept her eyes lowered as she hung her book bag and coat on the special hook with her name on it and shuffled towards the classroom, her braids forming a convenient curtain to hide her face behind, simply thinking: "What if they know?"3 Pond tales3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
It was definitely not in her nature to be shy and in the several orphanages she had been dragged into she remembered coming in all guns blazing and making friends and enemies quickly, but things were different here, things mattered. She didn't know very much, not even her birthday or exactly what year it was, but she did know that her entire life so far, the travelling, the strange whispering silences, the glimpses of half-dreamed monsters, the uncertainty, all of it, had been leading up to this moment and that her future would depend entirely on its success.
A large blonde woman smiled down at her and ruffled her hair, which deeply annoyed her, before asking if she was Melody in that stupid way grown-ups do when they already know the answer.
Sail Away - AU PirateLock!"Ah, good morning, Sherlock. You're late." the crisp voice greets him as he enters the elegant office. The speaker, Mycroft Holmes, sits behind an ornate mahogany desk, with an expectant look on his face.Sail Away - AU PirateLock!3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Sherlock continues his stride until he comes to the front on the desk. "What do you want, Mycroft?" he demands, cutting past the expected courtesies. He leans in, on the desk, his fingers drumming impatiently.
"Amiable as always." Mycroft quips in sarcastic response, and gestures to the chairs in front of his desk. "Take a seat." He says, expertly disguising the command as a request.
Sherlock quirks and eye-brow and instead perches on the corner of his desk in defiance. Not an easy feat, made awkward by the sword and sheath dangling from his side, but it makes his point.
Mycroft sucks in an exasperated breath at his childish tactics, but proceeds as though there is nothing unusual about the situation. Considering its Sherlock, there really isn't.
"Would you like some tea?" he offers,
Song of the Lone CenturionWhen I woke up in ancient RomeSong of the Lone Centurion5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Two thousand years away from home
A lump of plastic for a heart
My girl, I swore I'd do my part.
Two thousand years may seem too long
But Heaven knows, love is that strong
The slow path I said I would take
Two thousand years, then you would wake.
I'd never known that years had wings
Until I'd seen a hundred springs
A hundred springs, with winters too
My girl, what is this man to do?
For years have wings but days drag on
As I stand by through times long gone
For I stand tall where others chafed
My girl, I swore to keep you safe.
A hundred springs with winters too,
Do you still know that I loved you?
There in your long enchanted sleep
Unknowing bliss, in dreams so deep
I'll tell you, though you cannot hear
I'm not a hero, I feel fear
This world is such a restless place
So lacking order peace or grace
When will I see your face?
Meanwhile They guessed, but little knew
The decades passed, the tales grew
They told of one in Roman garb
Whose duty was to ever gua
The StairwellEverybody worried about Amy losing her baby. Sometimes people forget Rory lost his baby as well.The Stairwell3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"How are you doing, Rory?" the Doctor asked. He'd found the young father sitting in a stairwell in a remote part of the Tardis.
Amy was busy fixing sandwiches for lunch. It had been three days since they'd left River with the Sisters of the Infinite Schism, and gradually things were getting back to normal.
Except things weren't normal.
Rory was hunched up on the stairs, sitting crossways, he was smoothing something over and over and over on his knee. He didn't look up. The Doctor sat down beside him. He saw what the boy was holding was the prayer leaf from River's cradle.
Rory looked up, his face was wet and red, his eyes puffy. He glared at the Doctor with very old eyes. "I'm never going to see her again."
"Oh, she'll come looking for us," the Doctor waved airily, knowing full well that's not what he meant.
"Not River," Rory said with that mile-deep calm. "My baby." A single tear tr
Sherlock Holmes(BBC)The world's only consultive detective, do you know who that is?Sherlock Holmes(BBC)2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Sherlock Holmes, of course, he's not hard to miss!
With sharp, Eagle eyes, he sees what others do not,
He loves his work, no rest for him 'till the criminal's caught,
The sounds and fears of the world exist not in his mind,
For, if it doesn't involve the case, it's just a waste of time,
But his partner, John Watson, couldn't agree less,
Once a soldier in the Afganistan war, fear's something he can't forget,
Still, John was the first to find the true Sherlock,
What he managed to unearth could be considered a shock,
While he acts cold and distant, while he'd never let it show,
Sherlock's always screamed for help, yet only recieves his echo,
And so the two best friends, who understand each other better than most,
Will continue to solve mysteries, no longer fade into the background like a ghost,
It's easy to say I find the days easier to face,
Knowing that Sherlock and John are always on the case,
DaddySometimes River would catch Rory just staring at her. She knew he was looking for his daughter.Daddy2 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
Sometimes River would find Rory staring at her. He tried not to be obvious about it, but she could feel his eyes cataloging each of her features. Memorizing them, almost desperately drinking them down.
It was strange, she knew he was memorizing his daughter’s features. But this was Rory. She’d played tag with him as a child. Watched him being a total wet rag where it came to Amy and generally grew up with him, knowing him as the loyal but somewhat pathetic dork.
It was disconcerting to have him staring at her. Oh, she’d always known she was his daughter. It had been a bit of a secret joke when she was Mels. But now. Now it hurt. Because now he knew. He’d held her as an infant, and cried over how beautiful she was.
He had the heart and soul of a father. And she could never give him his baby back.
She felt his eyes on her again.
She turned abruptly in the
An Attempt At Sentiment Chp OneWhen Molly emerges the next morning she is unsurprised to find Sherlock in the chair where he sat the night before, still staring out the window, deep in thought.An Attempt At Sentiment Chp One3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She's not sure why she even bothered making up the guest bed as he almost never actually sleeps when he comes 'round. But it had given her a convenient exit from the room, which is what was needed.
She had learned how much silence mattered to Sherlock and did her best to move quietly across the sitting room and into the kitchen. She set the kettle on to boil for tea.
The glasses clinked as she extracted a mug from the cabinet, causing Sherlock to stir.
He rose slowly, stiffly from his perch and stretched, murmuring "Morning."
He approached her, looking weary and taking the cup of tea she'd just fixed for herself from the counter.
"Morning." she returns the greeting with an undertone of annoyance. There are some elements of Sherlock that haven't changed and although they are bothersome she is relieved as well.
He doesn't notic
Secret SantaThe Doctor and River take Amy and Rory to a world where Secret Santa has been raised to a whole new level.Secret Santa2 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
"Where are the sleigh bells?" Amy asked, rummaging through the boxes and bags scattered all over the Tardis floor.
Rory turned around, covered in Christmas tree lights, he had a neat loop of them around his neck and around both shoulders, like a bright bandolier. He was methodically unwinding them as he draped them around the artificial purple Christmas tree the Doctor had dug out of the hold.
"Not me," he said, sucking around the haft of a green candy cane. Amy looked up and shook her head in fond exasperation at him, only he would so practically hang lights on a tree that way.
"Not me!" the Doctor said from the base of the main stairs up on the console floor. He brandished a spatula. He was covered in frosting, a Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer apron, and was building a rather lopsided gingerbread house, with liberal use of multi-colored frosting and sprinkles.
"I've got th
Puttering Around(11th Doctor, Amy, Rory, River)Puttering Around2 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
All they wanted, was to play a little golf...
The Doctor wiggled his backside and lined up his shot very carefully. With a well measured tap he sent the ball rolling. And completely missed the cup.
"Hah!" Amy said, and licked her pencil, she wrote down his score with a flourish. "My turn!"
She grabbed her putter from where it leaned against a cheap plastic statue of an angel and flagrantly tapped her ball into the hole, it had been practically sitting on the rim anyway. "Par for me!" she said cheerily.
The Doctor pulled a grumpy face and glared down at the ground. "Yes, well, I'm used to playing on real grass, not this astroturffy stuff," he said, scuffing his boot on the thin prickly green carpet that lined the putt-putt lane.
"Break time!" Rory called as he and River wended their way through the convoluted courses of the miniature golf course. He held up a cardboard tray that held three drinks. River, beside him, held up a tray stuffed with chip
An Unexpected Novel - SherlockIt's been much too long (two days) since the last case and John has hidden Sherlock's gun. He'll find it in a momentit's either behind John's dresser or rolled up in a towel with the linensbut right now he can't be bothered to get up off the sofa.An Unexpected Novel - Sherlock4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Bored. Bored bored bored bored bored bored.
He doesn't have any experiments to run. Freezer burn invalidated the last one and John said he was sorry but it had certainly looked like bagged gravy to him, and the freezer seemed like a suitable place for it. And Sherlock had asked peevishly what kind of person puts gravy in bags? and John had snapped back about how oh don't tell me I'm supposed to evaluate your actions according to the standard of 'people' now. And so Sherlock was sulking. For the loss of his not-gravy (river water and sloughed flesh emulsification, actually), not for the retort, which was actually a reasonable one.
He doesn't know how John does this, the long, quiet afternoons. Sure, John
MiscommunicationJohn had been acting strangely. Ever since the incident at the pool with Moriarty he had been skittish. He might have thought Sherlock didn't notice but of course he did. Every time they were in a room together John would make an excuse to leave. He would be sitting in his chair when Sherlock would come into the room and sit down on the sofa. Within minutes John would start twitching, his hands would clench and unclench and he would start looking over his shoulder. Then he would rise and go up to his room or leave to do the shopping. Or just leave, no excuse given.Miscommunication4 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
At first Sherlock thought it was just normal nerves. The man had been strapped to a bomb, it was normal not to want to stay still for too long. Movement made you harder to catch. But he seemed to have no trouble staying still for long periods of time when the consulting detective wasn't within his range of vision. He knew because he'd followed him one day and watched him sit on a park bench for an hour and a half.
Sherlock in the Tardis FanficSherlock in the Tardis Fanfic4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Sherlock in the Tardis
John almost walked straight into it. A blue box. Right there in the middle of the street. No one seemed to find it odd and John didn't even seem to have been aware of it, before he crashed his nose into it. Even now, when he finally saw it, he didn't seem all that interested. He scowled at the box for having stood in his way and then walked over to the edge of the street, planning to get a cab.
Sherlock however had lost all interest in the case Lestrade had brought to their attention. Certainly, a severed foot sounded intriguing enough, but there was something about this blue box that was even more interesting than detached limbs.
Sherlock circled it. A police box, as he'd expected. He recognised the old design, though he wasn't sure where his mind had collected that particular piece of useless data. He blamed John, since meeting him, Sherlock's mind was being force fed useless information every day. He had no desire to know who the contestants of
Music Soothes the Beast WithinI plug in my headphones to drown out the noise.Music Soothes the Beast Within3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The pounding of feet,
The screams of pain,
The booms of the cannon,
The sound of arms.
I put on my headphones to drown out the terror.
A shot in the distance,
The tearing of skin,
A strangled scream,
Blood, large amounts of blood.
I put on my headphones to drown out the quiet.
Hands tugging, pulling, prodding,
Large amounts of medication administered,
The hazy beat of a monitor.
I put on my headphones to quell the nightmares.
It's been two years, seven months, thirteen days, sixteen hours, forty-two minutes and four seconds since Sherlock Holmes has been dead.
John doesn't understand why he's counting, or how it's possible that he can remember all this in his muddled mind, but he does, without ever being truly aware he's doing it until he stops and realises he is. But even with all this counting, John knows that it won't change anything. Sherlock is dead, whether it's been two years, or on
Curl Up and Dye SxJIt should be amusing actually, John thinks to himself. Had he really just not let himself notice? He'd been living with a man who forced him to notice things, who got disappointed in John when he couldn't see something that to Sherlock was just so bloody obvious it didn't even need one whole brain cell to notice it, work out what it meant and file it away. He had a feeling that if Sherlock had even the first inkling of what John was thinking now he'd get that look on his face which Mrs Clarkson would get when he handed in an essay on Alexander Pope late, riddled with spelling mistakes. "Really, John you must try harder next time."Curl Up and Dye SxJ4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Sherlock has had a haircut. Brilliant deduction so far, Watson, keep going old boy. His hair is now just a shade from being the length of a military recruit, dark fuzz covering his head where once it was those minky curls that looked so thick and soft, like you could bury hands into and loose them... and this is what John can'