Summary: After a case, John and Sherlock stagger back to Baker Street, John reasoning that he’ll let Mary know in the morning… He does not, however, expect to find her already there - or that she would be asleep in Sherlock’s bed of all places. But he’s too tired to ask: it came wait until morning, right?
Why You Should Read It: So you think Johnlockary fics tend to be steamy? Wait until you read this one. (And as if I needed another reason to recommend this fic, it’s for the spontaneity and lack of detailed past planning, as opposed to the majority of other Johnlockary fics I’ve read)
HAAHAHAHA YES \o/ Mycroft wins his goldfish ~♥
Now why does that sound familiar…? ;)
John leaves a just-fed, just-bathed, finally, finally sleeping Jane with a beaming Mrs Hudson, hauls himself up the seventeen steps, and collapses onto the sofa with a groan.
"All right," he announces to the flat as he unbuttons his trousers (he’d love to tell himself that he’s hoping for sex, but frankly, he only does it because the damn things have been cutting into his waist all day), "I’m ready for whatever depraved plan you came up with while I was downstairs." Muttering to himself, he adds, "God, I need to sleep."
Mary walks out of the bedroom in her bathrobe and gingerly sits next to John. “Sorry, John, but there’s no plan, depraved or otherwise. Sherlock’s in the kitchen doing God knows what behind closed doors, but he didn’t answer when I called, and if I even think about sex, I might pop a stitch. You’re on your own.”
John lays himself down and rests his head in Mary’s lap; Mary strokes his hair. Mary’s pyjamas are soft against his cheek, and John’s dozing off, eyelids falling, body relaxing because he’s finally off-duty, and God, he feels old just thinking it, but it’s better than sex, it is, when he hears the kitchen door open and a pair of ridiculously large feet propel a ridiculously tall consulting detective into the living room.
"Oh, I’m sorry," Sherlock says, "I didn’t"—John sits up as Sherlock stops short—"I didn’t realise. I’ll… just… um." He stares vaguely at the fireplace mantle, looking as frozen as he did when John asked him to be his best man.
Good Lord, John thinks as he scoots over to make room for Sherlock, Jane’ll be at uni by the time he’s worked his way up to joining us in bed.
"Come on," Mary says, patting the empty cushion between her and John. "Quick, before John falls asleep again and hogs the whole thing."
"I wouldn’t—that wouldn’t be…?"
"Sherlock, we love you, of course we want you with us," Mary says at the same time John says, "You’re an idiot."
Sherlock nods. “Yes. Well. If that’s the case…”
As John falls asleep, his and Mary’s clasped hands rest on Sherlock’s side. Sherlock, who sprawls across them as though they’re so much furniture, has somehow managed to trap John in the crook behind his legs, Mary’s lap beneath his head, and her other hand between his own.
"I adore you," Mary says, and John hopes that Sherlock understands who she means.
Fandom: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mary Morstan/John Watson
Additional Tags: Spoilers: The Sign of Three, Sherlock Series 3 Spoilers, Bodyswap, Magical Artifacts, crossover of sorts
So what was in that matchbox, anyway? John and Sherlock find out, the hard way.
Emma is writing a body swap fic.
Did you hear me?
EMMA IS WRITING A BODY SWAP FIC.
Run, don’t walk. This is going to be very interesting.
Look! Here is a really bad teaser image for my new multi-chapter Mystrade fic:
I feel this visual aptly sums up the reasons for which I should never use photoshop.
It looks like a bad comedy, doesn’t it? Hopefully it won’t be.
Is it wrong that I now really really want 40s style horror comedy mystrade set in a giant manor - halfway between Arsenic and old lace and House on a haunted hill with Mycroft being all Vincent Price and Lestrade being Cary Grant.
By “wrong” I think you mean brilliant.
I love early 20th c AUs and wish there were more of them and Mystrade is so ripe for those settings.
YES PLEASE ARE YOU WRITING IT YET? *flailing*
Northwest Passage by Kryptaria→ A Sherlockian Modern Classic
“TSeven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn’t truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes.” [x]
I thought I’d recommend this again, although I already did 4 months ago. Seemed appropriate considering the weather!
Midnight Blue Serenity
“This was like nothing John had ever thought to associate with Sherlock: stubble, skin-tight jeans and three small silver rings gleaming at the crest of one ear. It was unbelievable, like stepping into an alternative universe, and John couldn’t stop staring.”
When Sherlock infiltrates a club in order to track down a serial killer, his altered appearance is enough to make John question his assumption that Sherlock is beyond his reach. However, he is not the only one to appreciate Sherlock’s charms. The killer is looking for his fifth victim, and Sherlock might prove irresistible.
Genre: Case fic, romance, action adventure
Relationship: Eventual Sherlock/John
Rating: M (eventually)
Bloody but Unbowed Part 8
"Ever since I returned to London, you have made it plain that my behaviour is intolerable. Clearly, you no longer find me praise-worthy in any capacity, so why are you still here?"
When a familiar argument threatens to destroy the last remnants of John and Sherlock’s failing friendship, both men are left questioning their worth to one another. Before either of them has the chance to make amends, circumstance intervenes. John is left at the mercy of his abductors, and this time, he’s not sure Sherlock will bother coming to his rescue.
Rating: E (eventually)
Relationship: Eventual Sherlock/John
Genre: Action/Adventure/Angst/Romance and a bit of hurt comfort.
I’ve just received one of the most completely delightful Sherstrade fics I’ve ever read as a gift in the Sherlockmas exchange: "Sherlock and the Queen of Winter." I”ll link to it again when the authors are revealed, but I couldn’t wait to rec and say thank you here. I’m verging on speechless because it’s so charming, hilarious, romantic, and hits me square in the heart. Thank you to the anon writer.
I am just perpetually amazed by the people in this fandom. And grateful that I’m a member of such a community.
Title: Sherlock and the Queen of Winter
A gift for: 2ndskin
Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Greg Lestrade, John Watson, Molly Hooper, Sally Donovan, Irene Adler
Warnings: No warnings apply.
Summary: Rescuing humans who have been stolen by fairies is the part of Lestrade’s job that Sherlock doesn’t know about. AU
Author’s Notes: The cook’s song is “It’s Turned Out Nice Again” by George Formby
go read this, i just finished reading this and it’s actually officially one of my most favorite fics ever
i really recommend it
Prompt: Teen!Mycroft and Teen!Greg teaching a young Sherlock how to ice skate or making a snowman with him?
Having climbed over the gates in the Holmes estate and almost skewered himself on the spikes on top of it, Greg had hoped for a warmer welcome. Of course, he knew he wasn’t technically allowed to be here. But Mycroft’s parents were away for the day, so the last thing he’d expected upon dropping to the ground was to be bombarded with snowballs.
Spluttering through a mouthful of snow, Greg held up his hands in order to shield his face. An especially icy snowball slammed into his crotch and he bent over double, groaning in pain.
‘Do you surrender?’ a high pitched voiced called out to him excitedly. The boy was nowhere in sight, but Greg immediately knew who it belonged to.
‘Sherlock,’ another voice interrupted disapprovingly, and Greg looked up to see Mycroft jogging towards him over the snow. He dodged a snowball gracefully, and pulled Sherlock out from behind a nearby oak tree. ‘Where’s your coat?’
‘And I thought you were concerned for my wellbeing,’ Greg sighed, standing up straight and wincing at the tenderness in his groin. He hoped this wouldn’t put a halt to anything his boyfriend might have planned for the evening.
wip darkling i listen
Wolf-charm is trying to kill me with gorgeous art dedicated to my fic and I am rolling around on the floor, trying to articulate my gratitude and awe at her talent. This is extremely sexy, just the simple act of holding hands (wrists?) and how Sherlock is coming closer just to talk to John. The expressions on their faces. And their hair. And everything. I am so done, I don’t know how to express myself. I am so excited to share the ending with you all when it gets finished, just thank you for being so patient and supporting me and doing all of this when I don’t deserve it. Your art continues to be a mastery to me, wolf-charm and I am truly humbled by it. Wow.
Colored lineart, made by beansterpie
Because lkughlakdfgt;kahyrt BABIES
THEY’RE SO HAPPY
Happiness. Gorgeous, glorious, happiness.
You know, as much as we focus on the heat and the passion and the UNF-ness of sex in fanfic/fanart, the giggly bits are fantastic too. I need to remember that when I’m writing. More giggly ‘damn it that position didn’t work, aw hell’ sex. Hm. Definitely need to do that sometime. :)
Exaaaactly. The joy, man. Gotta bring the joy, too.
That’s one thing I’m finding I’m missing in some of my more recent pieces. Everything is so damn serious. I mean, I miss stuff like this:
“In that case,” John says lazily, trailing his fingers down Sherlock’s hip (because he can, now, and isn’t it marvelous?), “did you really do the washing up?”
Sherlock turns to look at John over his shoulder. “Of course I did,” he says.
“What about that snake? It’s gone off, and I’m tired of smelling it.”
There’s nothing but silence and Sherlock’s eyes darting away as he turns over and buries his head against the pillow.
“Sherlock, really…” John starts, but Sherlock hops out of bed in annoyance.
“No. I’m not getting rid of it. I’m not done with it yet.” Sherlock looks ready to execute an almighty flounce, and when he turns his back to John, presenting him with a perfect, pale target, John can’t help himself.
“You know I told you to bin it,” John says, affecting his best no-nonsense, do-as-I-say voice, and reaches out quickly to lay a slap against Sherlock’s arse that echoes in the quiet room.
He tries to look stern, crossing his arms and frowning, but when Sherlock turns around, open-mouthed with shock and disbelief, John can only hold it for a second and falls apart laughing on the bed. “Oh God, your face,” he says between breaths.
“Oh, you’re going to pay for that, John Watson,” Sherlock growls, and tackles him against the bed.
“Yes, Sir,” John says, laughing. He’ll be more than happy to.
We definitely need more joyous, fun sex. C’mon, Roane. DO IT.