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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
WRONG!Sherlock walked briskly through the London night. He realized that his great coat was open and the chilly air was blowing in. He pulled up his collar, buttoned up and searched his deep pockets for his warm gloves. He'd forgot his scarf. Ahh, typical, he didn't like the cold on his neck.WRONG!3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
What an idiot he was, walking in circles around the perimeters of the flat, leaving John because of his over inflated ego. John was right. He wasn't always right, but he was right this time. Sherlock hated to be wrong. Well, hate was the wrong word, despised made a better attempt.
Okay, he owed John an apology. He'd been a git. Famously. Sherlock sighed, dreading his commitment to that particular dialog. Maybe he could provide an apologetic gift; one that would not require a verbal accompaniment? What do you give a man of very stodgy tastes? He cleaned up well enough when it suited him, but most of the time his idea of style was at least 12 degrees below Sherlock's standards. Being a military man and a
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
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
What is love, John?One ShotWhat is love, John?3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
John had a subdued fierceness about him. He carried himself well and was not above speaking his mind. Sherlock liked that about him. The more time he spent with the short, brave, outspoken man, the more comfortable he became. Sherlock wasn't comfortable with many people at all. Mrs. Hudson. Yeah, that was it, well maybe a bit of Lestrade.
The first time John Watson had walked through that door at Bart's, Sherlock had felt a tinge of something. Strange that. He never felt at all. He'd walled off feelings, built the barricades tall and strong against those pesky problematic emotion things. But there it had been, a sensation that he'd never felt before.
He'd seen the psychosomatic limp and immediately his mind worked to solve the problem. That was what his mind did, all the time. Solve the problem; whether it was a serial killer or a psychosomatic limp. So inside his 'study in pink' case he'd placed his solution for John's limp. Redirection, he'd redirected
Sherlock BBC - Like a VirginAs John was staggering up the stairs to their shared flat on 221B Baker Street and struggling to keep his balance in a really pathetic and futile impression of a walk, he thought that spending the whole evening in "Red Lion", drinking pint after pint, maybe wasn't such a good idea.Sherlock BBC - Like a Virgin3 years ago in Romance More Like This
It was all Sherlock's fault, as usual. A few hours ago he announced fervently that he was bored out of his mind, and, since there wasn't any interesting case available, it could be fruitful to go to a pub and try spying on people. After all, drunk clientele are more prone to spill the beans and reveal some juicy secrets. At least that's what Sherlock claimed using more sophisticated vocabulary and making those puppy eyes, which you couldn't simply refuse. The truth was, John didn't really want to oppose this time, because an evening in a pub sounded fantastic. He envisioned that a bit of unwinding will be a nicer pastime than chasing criminals all around London as they normally do. So John was quite glad whe
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
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
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: Cuddling Can't Be SimpleSH: Cuddling Can't Be Simple3 years ago in Humor More Like This
Cuddling Can't Be Simple
(BBC's) Sherlock/John semi-fluff
"What do you want?"
John's brow furrowed, forming well-worn wrinkles as he settled heavily against his too-thin friend. The first time he'd heard Sherlock utter this specific question had been three weeks ago, just after John had finally given in to the soft smirks, the messy dark curls and absentminded touches. Oh, and stupidly adorable clumsy flirting. On both their ends.
Considering the compromising situation they'd been in when Sherlock had asked, he hadn't given the question much thought.
But now he'd kept asking, days and weeks after their flurry of shouts and giggles and confessions. It hadn't taken him terribly long to see the pattern; any time he invaded Sherlock's personal space, The Question was uttered. But why? Any attempts to call Sherlock out on the odd inquiry was met with curious, stupefied eyes and a circular conversation that ended with Sherlock deducing John was the one being obtuse.
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
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
You Don't Need a Girlfriend"You're wasting your time." Sherlock said uncaringly, as John walk in and stripped his coat.You Don't Need a Girlfriend3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Sherlock didn't look up at him, he just sat staring at the wall, hands stapled under his chin. John paused at the coat rack, thinking over what Sherlock just said.
"Excuse me?" He asked, turning and taking three long, brief strides to Sherlock.
"You very well heard me, it's useless for me to repeat myself." Sherlock said, sending him a sideways glance.
"And what are you talking about when you say I'm wasting my time?" John asked, leaning on the table in front of Sherlock.
"All your girlfriends and -dates-. You're wasting your time." Sherlock lowered his hands and stared at John.
John raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh? Is that so? Just because I want to have some fun? Just because I want to actually have a girlfriend?"
"You don't need a girlfriend." Sherlock said, standing and going into the kitchen, starting up the kettle.
"Why's that?" John followed Sherlock into the
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!
The Only ExceptionJohn closed his eyes, listening to the pounding rain on the window. The rain always relaxed him, just the sound of the pitter-patter of water hitting concert, the way the sky darkened and everything just slowed down. John stood up and walked to his room, not attracting the attention of his lover and flatmate, Sherlock Holmes.The Only Exception3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
John returned moments later with an Ipod touch and some portable speakers. He set them down on the table next to him and fumbled with the cord for a few minutes. Sherlock looked up from his book and shot John a questioningly look.
John pressed play and soft cords from an acoustic guitar played through the flat. John smiled at Sherlock as "The Only Exception" by Paramore strummed softly. The female singer's voice filled the flat with perfectly hit notes that seemed so relaxing to John.
"What's that, John?" Sherlock asked, wondering why John turned on this noise.
"Music. Come on Sherlock." John reached out his hand. "Dance with me?"
Sherlock thought for a moment as
Sherlock BBC: UncertaintyA semi-sequel to Like a VirginSherlock BBC: Uncertainty3 years ago in Romance More Like This
Six o'clock in the morning is never the right time to wake up after a drinking session. John Watson moaned and groaned and tried to go back to sleep, but repeated thuds, rustles and beeps coming from the living room rendered his intention impossible.
He opened his eyelids slowly, but the sunlight attacked his pupils with the force of a nuclear blast causing him to put a pillow over his head with a faint hope to block out the dazzling brightness, which pierced right through his skull. He felt as if a herd of elephants was tap dancing inside his brain, his throat was bone dry and the taste inside his mouth indicated that he must have at least munched on a dead cat. He moaned heartbreakingly once again, wishing he was dead. The noises from the living room, without a doubt produced by Sherlock, certainly didn't improve his psychical and mental condition.
When he finally gathered strength to sit up, he started massaging his temples and tried to pull him
You Just Can't Without a Heart"I don't even know where to begin..." John started, pacing the room in front of Sherlock, who was sitting in his arm chair, legs pulled to his chest and his eyes trained on John. "...I mean... You left for a week! I didn't know where in bloody hell you were and I was worried sick! I though someone had you, or worse, I thought you were dead!"You Just Can't Without a Heart3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"John..." Sherlock started, his voice low and almost quiet. It was so uncharacteristically like Sherlock to be quiet.
"Stop," John cut him off, holding his hand out to stop Sherlock. "Can you just tell me where you've -been-?!"
Sherlock shook his head, looking down at the floor.
"And why -not-, Sherlock?" John asked, stopping in front of him and crossing his arms, looking at Sherlock down his nose.
"Because, John, I just.... Just can't..." Sherlock said slowly, standing and walking over to John, placing a hand on his arm and getting closer. "Can you understand."
"N-no! I c-can't!" John forced out, shoving the rapid heart rate and struggled breathin