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 SxJ5 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'
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
SherlockI was calling your name.Sherlock4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
My whole existence revolved around that one name, that name that always appeared to be readied inside my throat, ready to escape my lips at any moment.
Whether questioningly, or with exasperation, admiration or with frustration; your name was the one that was always there.
It was your name that I heard the most.
People talk about you a lot.
It's your other names that I hear as well.
It was the tones with which they say it, the slight hesitations or intonation of their voices as they say your syllables. It brings with it their feelings towards you.
But now I am screaming your name with pure and total fear.
It is omniscient, consuming, terrifying to hear. It shakes my core and being, my morals are shaken and spiralling and I feel anger building in my veins in foresight of what could've happened.
What, surely, can't have happened?
I am falling to my knees involuntarily. Meaning wavers and slips from your name, it becom
Someone to Rely OnThe Doctor has one last favor to ask of Rory. Because he needs someone he can trust.Someone to Rely On2 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
They'd been living in the new house for a couple of months before Rory found the books. They were piled on a shelf in the cupboard under the stairs, where he'd gone to find some towels. He wouldn't have thought anything about them, there was lots of new stuff in the house the Doctor had given him and Amy, but something about these books called to him.
Maybe it was the titles, "The Doctor's Journal," "The Doctor's Helper," and "Biology Notes." They were thick heavy books bound in red, blue, and green leather. He hefted them down, forgetting the towels, and took them into the dining room.
He wondered why they'd been left in the cupboard. He'd found the Doctor had stocked him a whole library of medical texts in the library upstairs. All the latest of everything, including a few things he'd realized weren't published yet, once he'd checked the copyrights.
So why where these left in a closet?
Rory WilliamsRory Williams3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Silly little man
What are you to her?
You are nothing
You have never been anything to her
"I'm her best friend"
That isn't what she thinks
She thinks her best friend is Mels
"I'm her protector"
That isn't what she thinks
She thinks her protector is the Doctor
"I'm her husband"
That isn't what she thinks
She thinks her husband is some sexy guy in drawings
"I'm her I'm her "
You're her what?
I'll tell you what you are to her
You're her gullible neighbor
Who does whatever she tells you to do
You're her burden
Who can't seem to be the hero that is the Doctor
You're her second choice
She didn't even remember you
She imagined you as someone else
You were the only one she forgot
And her forgetting seems to have become a routine
1 Everything's just dandy between you two
2 The Doctor shows up
3 Amy chooses him over you
4 Amy forgets you (whether it is figuratively or literally)
5 You wait for her to remember
Except there's always an except
Except, she married you
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.
Duzi, angielscy ludzie- John, myślę, że musimy poważnie porozmawiać.Duzi, angielscy ludzie5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
John zamarł z nożem w jednej ręce, połówką pomidora w drugiej i wyrazem twarzy osoby, która nie za bardzo wie, czego ma się spodziewać. Miał świadomość, że kiedy Sherlock zaczyna wypowiedź od tego zdania, nie mogło to wróżyć niczego dobrego.
- Usiądź, proszę detektyw wskazał przyjacielowi fotel, poczekał aż ten usiądzie i podjął poważnym, dramatycznym głosem, starannie dobierając słowa. Mam nadzieję, że zdajesz sobie sprawę z sytuacji, w której się znajdujemy. Otóż stanęliśmy u progu straszliwej klęski. Woda, do której tak przywykliśmy, stała się dobrem deficytowym i już wkrótce może jej całkiem zabraknąć, rozumiesz? W żadnym wypadku nie mo&
SH - Wish Upon a StarI was bored, I always was. Lying in the sofa, picking up my phone within a few moments of my fingers blurring across the keys, I knew here was nothing of interest in the outside world. John was being my blogger on the last case. I wasn't being challenged. No, my brain wasn't being challenged. John had locked away my gun and my laptop was in my room. I could be bothered to get it and asking John would be an insult to his intelligence.SH - Wish Upon a Star5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
'Bored' I mumbled
'What?' asked John, turning away from the screen.
'Bored' I said again, a little louder.
Well, it's a clear night, no rain. Do you want to go for a walk?' he asked, trying to get me to do something more constructive.
'No' I said stubbornly.
'Well, perhaps... ah, you will just say no' john said, turning back to his computer.
'John, you tell me not to lead those at Scotland Yard on like that. Don't practise what you preach I said' I replied to his hypocritical statement exasperatedly and sat up, running my hands through my hair a
Daddy's GirlSomebody makes Mels cry and little Rory goes and sorts them out.Daddy's Girl2 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
“You’re useless! Nobody wants you. You don’t even have a father!”
Rory heard the taunts and ran toward the cluster of kids gathered around the slide. He found Mels in the middle of it, as he expected, facing off with Justin, the school bully.
Justin was twice Mels’ size, towering over her, beefy in the shoulder and larger than any fourth grader had a right to be. Mels was smaller, slighter, with her pigtail hanging down her back. Rory winced, knowing what was going to happen.
“Go back where you came from, Useless.” Justin pushed at Mels’ shoulder. Rory could see her hands fisting at her sides, see the coiled fury in her stance. She was staring up at the bigger boy with narrowed eyes.
“I am not useless!” she gritted out through her teeth, almost against her will.
Rory tried to push his way through the crowd, but he was even smaller than Mels.
Oneword: HeartacheOneword: Heartache3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Life without Sherlock was much like life BEFORE Sherlock. Or at least, John had to keep telling himself that. If he really stopped to analyze the differences, he invariably found himself curled uncomfortably into his armchair, trying not to sob loudly enough to warrant a trip up the stairs from Mrs. Hudson. It wasn't that her visits didn't help, so much as he didn't want to exacerbate her hip. But yes, a hot cup of tea, a slow rub of the back, and a fond anecdote or two were usually enough to distract John from the detective-shaped hole presiding in the other armchair. As Mrs. Hudson was leaving after one such occasion, John blinked away his last tear and thanked her again for her company.
"Don't mention it, dear, I know what it's like to deal with heartache. You should have seen me after I found out my husband wasn't the man I thought he was." With a smile and a blown good-night kiss, the kindly little landlady carefully worked her way down the stairs, leaving John to stare pointedly
From Flatmate to FianceOh my God, I’m his wife.From Flatmate to Fiance3 years ago in Romance More Like This
John lay dumbfounded, trapped under the weight of Sherlock’s limp limbs, staring at Sherlock’s face still smooshed into the pillow next to him after having poked him several times to remind him the alarm had gone off and they wouldn’t have time for breakfast. The morning light was glowing on his white skin making this mad-devil look positively angelic in his peaceful slumber.
It had happened so gradually John hadn’t even realized. It began, really, that first night when he’d saved Sherlock’s life. At least that should have been a good foreshadowing of the eventual inevitable. But aside from that, it had been a million simple little things that just happen as you get used to living with someone. The times he’d grabbed Sherlock’s scarf by mistake. The times when one or the other of them had accidentally drank from each other’s
JohnLock - GravityGravity JohnLockJohnLock - Gravity3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Something always brings me back to you
It never takes too long
No matter what I say or do
I still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone
Sherlock Holmes stood by the grave that was beside his own fake one.
He visited it frequently, because he could not stand to be back at the flat where Mrs. Hudson was. He could not stand that sad, broken accusing look in her eyes when she saw him.
It was his fault that his good doctor now was laying six feet under, side by side with nothingness; side by side with what he had thought was Sherlock.
Every time Sherlock stood or sat or just was in the cemetery, he could feel John's presence.
He was uncertain if it was a good or bad thing, because there was no resentment in that presence; just a feeling of love and home that did not belong in such a place.
You hold me without touch
You keep me without chains
I never wanted anything so much
Than to d
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- BoxJohn blinked at the box in the middle of the floor. It was fresh, new. The label on the side was addressed to Speedy's café, so John knew it wasn't originally meant to be in the flat. Mrs. Hudson wouldn't randomly leave a box in the middle of the floor, and John definitely hadn't had anything to do with it, so that left Sherlock.Sherlock- Box3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
As far as things Sherlock brought back to the apartment, a cardboard box was mundane, at best. That was part of what worried John. He moved to examine the box, speculating as to what could be inside.
The first thing that he noted was that it was upside down. The bottom of the box, which was now the top, was still sealed with packing tape. Closer examination showed that the tape across the top of the box (now tucked underneath) had been peeled off, so the only opening was at the bottom. This also meant that it had been opened, which reduced the fear that Sherlock was stealing a café's mail.
With a huff, John plopped down in his chair, staring at the b
Disclosure Chp 2"Sherlock! You've got a visitor." Mrs. Hudson shouted from downstairs. The only reason they can hear her is because the door is open.Disclosure Chp 23 years ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
Now they don't typically leave it open, they like their privacy. However John insisted on opening it along with several windows to air out the flat from Sherlock's most recent experiments involving sulfur and acid of some sort that made for a very foul smelling combination when heated and applied to wood.
Sherlock tried to explain it's relevancy to a cold case the Lestrade had given him to abate boredom, but he was to pissed off to listen.
He also insisted that Sherlock pay for the new table, because he refused to eat off of one that had a large, blackened hole in it.
At Mrs. Hudson's call John snapped his laptop shut from where he was writing a blog entry, before straightening up, presuming the visitor to be a potential client.
Sherlock didn't stir from his own laptop, too busy hastily recording the data from the experiment to be bothered. John let out
Sherlock : TextsThank you. Please, take care of him. Watch after him SHSherlock : Texts4 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
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.
Nieczysta podnietaNie cierpiał chuja o tej pięknej twarzy i cudownym guście w kwestii mody. Ten palant w absurdalnie ciasnych i drogich koszulach Dolce i Gabbany rzucił się z dachu i śmiał roztrzaskać swój - zapewne - piękny i pomarszczony jak szpula drutu albo kłębek wełyny mózg.Nieczysta podnieta2 years ago in Humor More Like This
Nie cierpiał go czy nie, mimo wszystko śmierć Sherlocka Holmesa była dla Andersona ciosem.
Och, ileż by dał, aby móc chociaż raz jeszcze wygarnąć mu w te piękne oczy, jak bardzo go nie cierpi! Ale nie... wziął umarł. Pozostawił ich wszystkich - jego - na pastwę losu. Czasem w nocy budził się z snu... w którym nawiedzał go świr. Nie ważne co mu się śniło, to było nieistotne, ale miotał się w łóżku, targany emocjami! Tak skrajnymi! Uwielbienie i nienawiść!
Donovan zostawiła go po mie
Obsessed With Sherlock Holmes Top 45 Ways You Can Pretty Much Be Sure You Are A SherlockianObsessed With Sherlock Holmes4 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
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
I never thought......I never thoughtI never thought......5 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
SH: After the Bombs Chapter IIJohn swallowed. Desperately he looked around the room. Expecting an envelope or a phone. In his panic, John could only think of the last time Moriarty had send Sherlock a message. The case he had come to call The Great Game.SH: After the Bombs Chapter II5 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Lestrade's brow furrowed. He looked at Sherlock then at John. He seemed unsure whether to show it to them. But eventually he signalled to someone standing behind Sherlock and John. It was Donavon. As usual she did little to disguise her hatred for Sherlock, however she didn't say anything and the short glance toward John told Sherlock this wasn't going to be pleasant.
Donavon handed over a small plastic evidence bag. Lestrade took it and held it up so both John and Sherlock could see its contents. It was a small scalpel. Clean and shining, but all the more terrifying for it.
John felt trepidation building inside, but he couldn't understand why. And why had Lestrade thought this was a message for Sherlock from Moriarty? It was just a knife, a scalpel, it was
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
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 SH5 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