The QuestionOne shotThe Question3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The power in Sherlock's voice made John stop typing his latest blog and look up.
"At the swimming pool, you were prepared to relinquish your life. Why would you do that?"
"Been thinking again, have you?" John said with a sly smile.
John heaved a sigh and sat back in his chair. "I think you already know the answer. I've seen a lot of men die, Sherlock. I've watched them die quickly and very, very slowly. Some of them were my friends. I am not prepared to lose your friendship."
Standing Sherlock paced a bit and turned toward John who was giving him his full attention.
"Growing up I experienced a more chaotic existence when my ability to interact with others was severely limited by my own lack of desire to do so."
"I can see that." John agreed and wondered where this was headed.
"That and Mycoft was an inconsiderate git, but I digress. I have found that while you do not possess the same mind-set that I enjoy. You consistently
The ReunionOne shotThe Reunion3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
John sat in the flat reading the newspaper. It had been an uneventful week, but there seemed to be strangeness happening just out at the edge of his life. He couldn't place a finger on it. It was as if everything and everyone was just a bit wonky, maybe out of phase. He chalked it up to a lack of sleep or something he'd eaten.
He'd returned to the flat at Mrs. Hudson's urging. She was the one woman in his life who never ceased to amaze him with her kindness and her loving ways. Like a second mother, only better, coming in regularly to give him a warm smile and a laugh. She kept him honest about eating and taking good care of himself, even coming in regularly to 'move things around' as she said. And lately, things seemed to be moving of their own accord. John had found items moved and Mrs. Hudson swore that she hadn't touched them. Maybe a ghost in the elegant dust?
It had been hard a first. The emptiness was like a great hole in his heart. But he knew th
Nothing more that we can doOne shotNothing more that we can do3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"There is really nothing more that we can do, Dr. Watson."
"Thank you Dr. Clarkson, Would it be okay if I spent the night with him?" John asked.
"Yes, of course, would you like a cot brought in for you?"
"Yes, thanks. I appreciate your assistance in this."
Dr. Clarkson extended his hand in friendship. "I've read about the legendary friendship between you and Mr. Holmes. I'll be by in the morning and we'll have the results of all the post op tests. Have a good evening."
"I'll see you then." John said. He pushed a comfortable chair close to Sherlock's bed, but didn't sit.
"Well Sherlock. I want to thank you so very much for pushing me out of the way of that murderer's bullet," John started out with a tinge of sarcasm in his voice, which broke down into a near sob. "but it would have been even better if you had dodged that bit of shattered bullet that nicked your hard-as-a-rock skull."
He took hold of Sherlock's hand.
"I'm going to stay with you tonigh
Talking SexOne shotTalking Sex3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
John was reading the paper when Sherlock walked by wearing a towel and carrying a biscuit in one hand and a book in the other.
"Sherlock, would you mind if I asked you a really personal question?"
"Humm what John?"
"You have told me that relationships are not your area. That everything else is transport. Does that mean you've never dabbled in relationships at all? Does that mean you are asexual?" John was being very sincere.
"I now have numerous 'relationships', John, you being a prime example. I know you were asking about physical relationships. I'm really not enamored of the chemical fallout that physical sex engenders; there that was easy wasn't it?"
"Wait, wait that was too easy," John was totally skeptically.
"So you want the long version, John? Okay." Sherlock sat in his chair facing John; placing his book and biscuit on the nearby table.
"I first experienced unconditional love and steadfast loyalty through you John. You constantly educate me
Molly's rewardAfter the Reichenback FallMolly's reward3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Molly," Sherlock began, "without your assistance I would be dead now. I wanted to thank you, but more than that I wanted to let you know that I am in your debt. Please, if there is anything I can do for you. Anything at all, I will pay that debt as you desire."
Molly looked into his eyes, then embarrassed, looked down to her hands in her lap.
"Don't be shy, Molly." Sherlock encouraged her. "I won't bite unless you want me to." He smiled at her and not in a manipulative way; she could tell when he was doing that.
She'd seen Sherlock manipulate people. He could be more charming than anyone she knew. He could give fake smiles and fake tears. He could twist anyone and his dog around his little finger. That was just the way Sherlock was. He got what he wanted with a carrot or a very large stick.
"Well, you don't have to come up with something right this minute," he said.
Sherlock lifted her hand with his; touching his fair lips to the back of that
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
NightmareOne shotNightmare3 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
Theme Prompt - StripesTwo exhausted men limped their way up the stairs to 221B. They had just finished a wild chase through the streets of London and caught a murderer, though both had been harmed in the process. John was limping, his left ankle sprained from landing wrong after jumping a fence. Sherlock grimaced, his hand running across his back. He had tripped, tripped, and slammed into a metal fence. The bars had left stripes across his back, the bruising aching as his shirt brushed it.Theme Prompt - Stripes3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Let's not do that again for a while, Sherlock," John said, heading to the kitchen to make tea.
"I heartily concur," Sherlock groaned, easing his coat off. The lost weight was enough to calm the ache in his back and he sat down in his armchair. He forgot about the scarf and flipped through the paper. He took the cup of tea absently as John walked back in and handed it to him. The doctor groaned as he eased himself down into his own chair.
"Anything interesting in the news?" John asked sardonically. He knew most thi
The Cold War"Just what do you think you are doing?" John spoke as Sherlock closed his computer and pulled it from John's lap.The Cold War3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Your insatiable blog readers will have to forgo this morning's entry as you will be attending a 'get well' conference in your bed."
"Wait a minute, Sherlock," John began to protest when his phone started ringing.
"And your current girl friend can also find some other means of diversion for the next few days."
"Sherlock, I have a blasted cold not the bloody Black Plague."
John was helped up from his chair and ushered into his bed room. Plopped down in his bed and unceremoniously covered with various blankets that engulfed him completely.
"This cold has surpassed the normal 4 to 6 days in duration and, therefore needs to be attended to in a more vigorous manner." Sherlock assumed his authoritative tone as he handed John a bottle of zinc tables and a glass of water.
"Sherlock, I am not a child. I'm a doctor for God's sake."
"I have observed you, John, and your attempts at 'tr
ExperimentJohn?Experiment3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I need you to come get me...
They won't let me leave.
Why not? What did you do?!
I'm too drunk.
Ha! You?! Drunk?! There's a new one!
Ok, ok, I'm sorry. I'll be right there.
The pub on the corner right?
Would you stop laughing at me?
After all the times I picked you up from this pub!!
I'm almost there.
John walked over to Sherlock who was sitting at the counter. John greeted the bar tender, took Sherlock's wrist, and helped him stand.
"I can -walk- John!" Sherlock hissed, pulling his wrist out of John's grasp.
And he seemed to be right. He lead the way out the exit and looked up and down the street. Something about Sherlock, being drunk never affected him. He could talk perfectly fine, walk perfectly straight, think perfectly annoyingly as always... The only thing the alcohol may do to him is ge
What was Molly's gift?by darkstar1013What was Molly's gift?3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Sherlock had analyzed himself into a corner over Molly's gift to him. He'd been sure it was intended for a new boyfriend. And then there had been his platonic kiss in apology, punctuated by The Woman's orgasmic text. Which had pretty much ended the party. Now, everyone was gone and the beautifully wrapped present sat front and center on Sherlock's lap. There was a tinge of guilt now forming in his atrophied heart. He typically hadn't brought anyone anything. Maybe he'd have to change his ways?
"Well, open it up," John requested, "the suspense is killing me. I got a great silk scarf and some leather gloves. You probably got a scarf too."
Sherlock jiggled the box and it made a very faint noise.
"So, not a scarf," John said. "Aren't you usually able to tell by the rattle what's inside?"
"This must be encased in bubble wrap," Sherlock conjectured.
Sherlock drew out the strings, tearing up the bright red paper to reveal a plain brown box. Taking a letter opener from the tabl
The dreams in which I'm dyingOne shotThe dreams in which I'm dying3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Are the best I've ever had
(from Mad World by Gary Jules)
That first evening with Sherlock after 'The Study in Pink' case; John walked around the darkened rooms, peeking into Sherlock's open bedroom door. It took a while for the consulting detective to motor down after the death of the serial killer cabbie. Now he was sleeping, peacefully; a jumble of long limbs thrown carelessly upon the bed. It was good to see Sherlock finally at peace. He slept in the all-together, John smiled at that.
[What a quirky young man,] John thought, [brilliant, but eccentric as they come. Would life always be like this living in the wake of a genius like Sherlock Holmes?]
John had killed the cabbie that night, but to protect Sherlock, he would have gladly killed him every night for the rest of his life. Sherlock was alive, so vibrant, a magnet of personality. His genius had a price though; he needed training in the art of human relationships, in his 'timing'. Oh and there wa
Hold the Stars Apart"John?"Hold the Stars Apart3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"I'm here, Sherlock."
"Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm good, but you've been injured. So you need to try to be as still as you can. I've got you." John tightened his embrace on Sherlock.
"I can feel your arms around me, John."
"I'm worried about shock, I've got you positioned correctly but I need to help you stay warm."
"I've never been held, John. Not that I can remember."
"Not even as a child, an infant?" John asked.
"I was an extremely fussy infant; preferring not to be held. I cried when held, was quiet when left alone."
"Well, you are being held now, Sherlock."
"It feels good, John."
"Lucky, my mobile works out this far. I've called for help. It will be a while before it gets here. We just have to be patient and wait a bit."
"The night is cold and beautiful." Sherlock looked to the sky over head. "Away from the city lights, the night sky is breath-taking."
"Are you cold, Sherlock? I can take off my jacket and "
"No, John, I'm not cold, with you close, I'm not cold. My t
Demon with a glass heartOne shotDemon with a glass heart3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
*After the Fall*
Sherlock watched from the shadows as Mrs. Hudson and John approached his grave.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips as he heard Mrs. Hudson rant about his man behaving badly behavior. As she left he brought his full concentration to John. He would be the hardest impacted; the center of the shit storm that Moriarty had unleashed. John's words were hard to listen to. As he turned to leave, he stopped with one last request, "one miracle, Don't-Be-Dead." Sherlock felt a sudden, subtle pain. Something he'd never experienced before.
"I promise you, John," he whispered, "I promise your miracle will happen."
Right now he could not reveal the miracle to any of his friends. Because he knew that Moriarty's web had to be dismantled; that there could still be threats to his 'family'. He would have to enter Moriarty's dark web and render it useless from inside. There would be no mercy. He had under estimated Moriarty once never again.
But our h
Profound dinner for Two"John that was a wonderful meal, thank you."Profound dinner for Two3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"I haven't seen you eat so much in the entire time we've been together. Which hasn't been very long," John said putting all the dishes next to the sink. "I'm going to sit and rest a while before YOU do the dishes. Is food not your area either?"
"I find that digesting is very bothersome, John. Makes one lethargic and I hate feeling like a gigantic sloth."
"It's all well and good that you like being lean," John said. "But you're better off consuming minute amounts of food throughout the day rather than starving yourself."
"I know the correct procedures concerning nourishment, John. It's just hard to remember when I'm into a case. I did eat well tonight, though. I think because there was something in the food that hasn't been there before."
"Rosemary, turmeric?" John picked up a paper and was scanning through it.
"Something quite profound," Sherlock said looking from over his steepled hands.
John didn't put his paper down. "Profound? Hasn't any
The Gift"John... what on Earth is this?"The Gift3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Two beings stared deep into each other's eyes, neither blinking nor moving an inch. One of them was calculating, cold and unfeeling; the other was Sherlock Holmes.
"It's a parrot. What does it look like?" John replied, picking up the white, plastic washing basket.
"It 'looks like' it's staring right at me..." Sherlock whispered.
"Well maybe it finds you inter-... What are you doing?"
Sherlock was darting from side to side trying desperately to catch the little creature out. The parrot managed effortlessly to keep up with Sherlock's fast movements, all the while keeping perfect eye contact.
"I want it out of my home!" Sherlock demanded, stabbing a finger at the blameless bird.
"That's a strange kind of thank you..." John said.
"I'm sorry John, but you must have been drugged in order to think this was an appropriate gift!"
"Of course not, don't be ridiculous," said John. "I just thought it might be a bit useful."
"You could teach
Warmth3:27Warmth3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Are you awake?
Sherlock? What's wrong? Where are you?
In my room.
Oh. Is something wrong?
Yes. I'm cold.
Well it is snowing outside
You texted me at 3:30 to tell me you're cold?
3:27. And yes.
Get a blanket!
Won't work. I need another source of heat generation.
Do you expect me buy you a heater?
Don't be ridiculous. I want you to be my heater.
You want me to sleep with you?
No. I want you to come stand in the room so that the heat generated from you body helps to raise the overall temperature.
Are you serious?!
It's called sarcasm John.
Oh. Right. Well it's too early for sarcasm and I'm too tired.
Too tired to sleep with me? I wasn't implying anything.
Too tired for sarcasm.
Oh. Right. Sorry
Are you coming?
Why should I?
I just told you - I'm cold!
BBC Sherlock: Learn to be LonelyJohn wasn't woken up by the suspicious crack of the floorboards, a sudden and inexplicable draught, nor by bright light attacking his pupils. No, the sensation was far more subtle. A certain feeling of absence. The gnawing coldness. The emptiness around him. John slowly opened his eyelids and noticed what was wrong. The other side of the bed was vacant. John's eyes wandered across the room and stopped at the slim silhouette bathed in the moonlight, which only highlighted the paleness of the naked skin. Sherlock was standing by the window and looking out at the quiet and empty street below. He was looking, but not really seeing. His eyes were awash with deep sadness, something John had never observed before.BBC Sherlock: Learn to be Lonely3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"What's wrong, Sherlock?" John asked with worry.
Sherlock flinched a little, not being aware that John had been watching him. His facial expression changed instantly as if he put a joyful mask on.
"Nothing, John. I'm sorry if I woke you up." Sherlock apologised, twisting his lips in
Reasons Why: Johnlock Fluff fic John, you're brilliant. -SHReasons Why: Johnlock Fluff fic3 years ago in Romance More Like This
Thanks? Why am I brilliant all of a sudden? -JW
And you have beautiful eyes. -SH
Your smile makes me melt. -SH
Are you drunk? -JW
I love the way you go into doctor mode when the slightest thing goes wrong. -SH
Are you feeeling okay? -JW
I love your loyalty. -SH
I love your jumpers. -SH
I'm getting the vibe that theirs a pattern here. -JW
I love your strange obsession with jam. -SH
I love your nightmares. -SH
I love your voice. -JW
Seriously Sherlock, what has gotten into you? -JW
I love the way you hold yourself that has military writen all over it. -SH
I love your blog. -SH
Sherlock! What is this? -JW
I love your thoughts. -SH
I love the way you look away when I catch you staring. -SH
I love your arms. -SH
I love your scars. -SH
I love your body. -SH
I...I don't know what to say to that Sherlock. -JW
I love your personality. -SH
Thank you? -JW
I love you, John. -SH
It's about time! I love you too you git! -JW
Rough Day-- Johnlock oneshotJohn/SherlockRough Day-- Johnlock oneshot3 years ago in Drama More Like This
Warning: Angst and fluff
John Watson closed the front door of 221 Baker Street and leaned back against it, screwing his eyes closed and letting out a shaky breath. He was tired and just wanted to lay down in bed and not think for a while. His mind flashed back without warning to the bedside of the young girl who'd died today. The four-year-old had collapsed and had a seizure after an allergic reaction. She'd held on for an hour, and then lost the fight. A single tear found its way out of John's scrunched up eyes as he saw again how pale she'd looked when she was brought in to A&E with her dad, a single father, trailing behind the stretcher.
Losing a patient had always been hard for him, but losing children . That was another story entirely.
He pressed his hands to his eyes and took sever
Sherlock BBC: The Meowing ProblemSensing that it was John, who was coming home and not someone else, didn't prove a challenge to the great Sherlock Holmes. Doctor Watson had this very specific way of opening the front door, unique pace of climbing the stairs and breathing pattern that somehow felt soothing. But Sherlock, sitting in his armchair and browsing through a newspaper, knew that something was different today. All those little habits of John's were slightly altered. Perhaps due to the rain that kept falling incessantly for the whole day. Whatever the reason, Sherlock was mildly intrigued. Something was afoot.Sherlock BBC: The Meowing Problem3 years ago in Romance More Like This
"Hello, John," he said casually, eyes fixed on John.
"Hello, Sherlock," John replied quickly and hurried to the kitchen, clearly trying to avoid the attention of his flatmate. Obviously, that had quite the opposite effect, especially when a muffled "meow" could be heard coming from the general direction of John.
"John?" Sherlock asked with misleading calmness.
"Yes?" The water was dripping from him as if
Johnlock: To The Opera!Johnlock: To The Opera!3 years ago in Romance More Like This
To The Opera!
"You've been to the Opera?"
John tilted his head back to look at Sherlock upside-down- sneaking a rather indecent stare at Sherlock's trousers. "That's random. No, I haven't actually."
Sherlock paused mid-stride, staring down at him incredulously. "Never?"
John shrugged. "Never, not once in my life."
Sherlock huffed in annoyance. "Then we shall remedy that tonight."
"Oh?" John perked, sitting up with an eager smile. He chuckled when Sherlock shoved his legs aside, pilfering under and around the sofa cushions until he finally withdrew two slips of paper. Sherlock handed him one with a flourish.
"Here's your ticket. I'll meet you there in two hours."
"Wait- What?" John frowned, pursing his lips. "I thought the whole point of taking me to the Opera was, you know, taking me to-,"
"I'll meet you there," Sherlock repeated with a mysterious smile.
John sputtered a question, but Sherlock bounced out the room and down the stairs, the slam of the f
End of DaysSherlock looked into the cardboard casket. In his hand he held a purple rose. He placed the tender blossom in John's hand; touching him for the very last time. John had requested cremation and his every last wish was to be carried out.End of Days3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Sherlock looked at the old man in the casket. Eighty-nine years and he had died as he had lived at Sherlock's side. Sherlock felt empty, hollow as if he would never be filled again.
Mrs. Hudson was gone, leaving 221B to him in her will. Lestrade had retired early after that near fatal accident. Molly had married and gone to live in Dublin. He still consulted with the new people in the department and at Bart's, but it wouldn't the same without John.
John had been there through it all; a life time of adventures that had finally taken his blogger, his companion and his only friend. At least it had been quick; a brain aneurism had taken the only person he'd ever loved away from Sherlock.
The service was short and very memorable. John had many friends and a f
The Grave: Contest EntryThe breeze was cool and strong that ran through the trees in the currently abandoned graveyard. John sat there, the cold numbing his body, the pain killing his heart. It had been three years since the fall, since the day he last saw that beautiful face.The Grave: Contest Entry3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"This is my note, that's what people do isn't it? Leave a note?"
"Leave a note? Leave a note when?"
It echoed, it all echoed. Day after day, night after night; all of it replayed and replayed in John's mind. His body has acted as a kind of trap, torturing him. Forcing him to watch, again and again, as Sherlock jumped. Each time, John hoped he could change the ending, just once, so he wouldn't have to see the blood. Sherlock's blood.
John couldn't help it, for about the billionth time, he cried on the grave of Sherlock Holmes.
"Sherlock..." He moaned through tears. "I don't care that you were a fraud! I don't care if you completely made Moriarty up! It's not true! I know it's not true!" John was