#interview with the vampire#iwtv#the vampire armand#assad zaman
seen from United States
seen from Jordan
seen from Malaysia
seen from Tunisia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Ireland
seen from Brazil
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Brazil
seen from Ireland
seen from Australia
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil
seen from Canada
seen from Pakistan
A sneak peak of my @toplockfanbook submission!!! It’s a companion piece to purrlockholmes’s art! Hope you guys love the final product!
IT’S FINALLY HERE!!! The EPILOGUE for These Hours That Define Us!!! This fic was such a monster to write and I am so happy that so many of you stuck with me for so long. I love you all!
Plans for my ao3 are listed at the back of the fic so you can go check that out!!! c:
“I… Sherlock I…” John begins, looking extremely perplexed, as if willing himself to say something but the words won't come. Sherlock watches on, his eyes wide as John steps impossibly forward, a hand caressing his cheek as John gazes up at him with imploring eyes. “John,” he says, a statement, an answer, a promise all at once as John smiles warmly up at him. He's bending forward before he realises it, long dark lashes brushing against pale skin as his eyes fall closed. And John must have moved forward as well because soon Sherlock’s nose knocks against his, John's breaths coming out in puffs of warmth against his lips. It's John who closes the final distance between them... which is not much of a surprise really. In all of Sherlock’s fantasies, John had always been the first one to make a move. John's lips soar upwards to claim his with a violence akin to that of a drowning man desperately seeking air. He winds his fingers tighter around Sherlock’s neck, the fingers in his hair tangling further into his curls to draw him closer. It's exquisite. It's amazing. It's everything Sherlock had expected and more. He'd always thought about it, about how kissing John would feel. Would he be gentle? Would he be rough? Or- But John shifts his head just so, slotting his lips against Sherlock’s, short-circuiting his brain with the sensory overload. And Sherlock stops thinking altogether.
Chapter 9 of These Hours That Define Us
Prompt : Sherlock is so drunk he forgets his name.
He’s had a bit too much to drink.
Definitely a bit too much to drink.
“Jooooohn,” he slurs, falling into his friend’s arms as John staggers under his weight, struggling to hold him up, “Jooooohn, who am I again?”
John’s brow furrows as he wraps his arm around his shoulder.
“What?”
“I’m not too sure who I am…” he says, smacking his lips together, tasting the bitter tang of alcohol there, “I don’t really remember.”
“Of course you remember,” John chuckles, moving forward with him in tow, “You remember me.”
“But that’s because you’re important,” he answers, unfocused eyes alighting on his companion’s shoulder, “I remember you, remember that there’s someone you love called Mary… and that there’s something about a wedding? I know you love Mary… very very much.”
At this, John stops in his tracks, his whole body freezing as he turns to face him.
“John, what’s my name?”
He watches as the muscles in John’s jaw work up and down, his chin flexing as he hauls him through the door of 221B.
“Well… would you believe it…” John smiles, “If I told you your name was Mary?”
He raises his eyes to John’s, his alcohol-sloshed brain barely able to process that statement.
“So you love me.. very very much?” he slurs after a moment, flashing a confused look at John.
John freezes for a moment before he nods his head affirmatively, clutching his body close to his as he drags him up the stairs.
“I love you… very very much,” John intones affirmatively as he tugs him into the master bedroom, arranging him carefully on the bed.
“Night John,” he mumbles, watching as the man lays the blanket over him, covering his exhausted body.
“Night Sher- Mary,” John says, grimacing a little as he nods one final time before shutting the door.
Sherlock doesn’t remember anything when he wakes up the next morning.
Can I apologise in advance
For writing prompts: John playing with Sherlock's hair :>
John Watson loves Sherlock Holmes’ hair.
He loves the way it feels beneath his fingertips, how the man’s curls spring back into ringlets every time his fingers leave his scalp,how the silky strands run smoothly across his skin as he combs his fingers through them.
But best of all… are Sherlock’s reactions to his ministrations.
The man probably has the most sensitive scalp that John has ever laid hands on. Any simple touch, any simple caress turns Sherlock to putty, leaving him pliant and contented in John’s arms, grinning as John’s fingers continue working their way through his hair.
John loves it, he does, seeing the man so calm, so relaxed…
He runs his fingers through the man’s hair every chance that he gets, whether they be out for a meal, out on a case or even simply enjoying a night in at home, cherishing the soft, satisfied snuffles that Sherlock emits whenever he does so.
And he loves it especially when the twirling and twisting turns to gentle tugging and eventually… rough tangling as they stumble and fall, struggling their way to the bedroom as their lips meet over and over again in sloppy kisses, the man in his arms moaning with every tug of his curls…
And the best is after, when they’re happy and sated, Sherlock’s body pressed flush up against his. John will run his fingers through that halo of curls, trying his best to tame the mess of ringlets as the man smiles, purring softly at the touch of John’s fingertips, snuffling sleepily into the crook of his neck…
John Watson loves Sherlock Holmes’ hair.
John and Sherlock telling everyone they're finally dating, braced for shock and long explanations, and Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft and Molly and even the Holmes parents and Harry are just like OBVIOUSLY
Btw I just realised that on tumblr mobile, you can’t see read mores in asks. So you’ll probably have to open this in browser to view the whole thing.
“Sherlock? You’re not nervous are you?”
“No of course I’m not,” Sherlock huffs, straightening his jacket as he steps through the bathroom door.
“You sure?” John smiles, pulling Sherlock into his arms as he rolls his eyes.
“Positive,” he answers.
They’re at the Holmes household for New Years, along with Molly, Lestrade, Harry and even Mrs Hudson. His parents had deemed the previous family-restricted new years gatherings far too harrowing (given the amount of vitriol he and Mycroft tended to exchange) so for this year, they’d endeavoured to invite other guests along.
Which made this the perfect chance for them to out themselves as a couple once and for all.
They are all here after all, friends and family. What a better way than to tell everybody all at once on new years eve?
Right?
it's midnight and halloween and john is asleep in his bedroom upstairs, meanwhile sherlock is awake and typing out a case in his blog when suddenly his laptop turns off and the entire electricity in baker street (neighbour's houses and street lights included) also switches off. It's a blackout. Sherlock once said "there are no ghosts" but tbh he's really afraid at this point (he'd just watched conjuring 2) So he uses his phone flashlight and dashes to john's room and waking him up and crying
There are no such things as ghosts.
There aren’t, there simply aren’t, Sherlock thinks to himself as he turns back to his laptop screen, resting his fingers tentatively on the keys before typing away again.
It’s the night of Halloween, 31st October a date that normally beckons the likes of murderers and schemers out onto the streets of London. However, today has been surprisingly quiet (much to Sherlock’s annoyance) so John had insisted they stay in and watch a scary movie.
The Conjuring 2 to be precise.
Well… As expected, he hadn’t been as affected as John had been. In fact, John had shut his eyes at several parts of the movie, burrowing closer into Sherlock’s arm. Sherlock’d huffed and sighed in response, rolling his eyes.
Ghosts simply don’t exist. There’s no point in thinking otherwis-
BANG
Sherlock’s hair stands on end as he turns to face the source of the noise.
It’s a window… a window that had slammed itself shut? But that doesn’t make any sense, it’s not even windy out-
A soft trill emanates from his front, startling Sherlock further as he turns back to his laptop, shocked to find that the device had shut itself down of its own accord.
What in the world?
He stands up, backing away from his laptop as he surveys the room, his fists raised in preparation for a fight.
And that’s when all the lights go off.
Just imagine, when Sherlock and John finally confess to each other.
The two of them will finally know that they’re allowed to touch, to hold, to taste. They’ll know for sure that their love is reciprocated, that John Watson loves Sherlock Holmes and Sherlock Holmes loves John Watson.
There’ll be warm, sleepy mornings, allowing them to savour the long, drawn out moments of waking in each others arms. Sherlock will snuffle softly into John’s chest, nuzzling into the crook of his neck as John tightens his hold on him in turn, the two of them reassuring themselves that this is real, that they’re together...
That nothing will ever part them ever again.
And when Sherlock ever doubts this, fearing that separation is inevitable, John will lead him by the hand as they stumble and tumble into each others arms, their sweat-soaked bodies singing as they bring each other to completion - their names on each others lips as they come.
“I love you,” John will whisper, “I promise you I’ll never leave you.”
And Sherlock will smile, his lips upturned as his cheeks begin to glow with a faint blush
“I love you too,” he’ll whisper in turn, bringing John’s lips down to meet his, sealing their promise with a kiss...
Imagine...
