#bbc sherlock fandom

[of-magpies-and-murders]

A Johnlock fan-made song from the good ol' days has been discovered!

[gaypistachio]

Thank you urban dictionary

[gaypistachio]

✨

[caninisjohnlocked]

Actually the secret good episode of sherlock is real, it’s just on a separate reblog so it’s not counted in the original notes

[hot-on-my-watch]

Happy Halloweeeen and Samhain Blessings from me and this Andrew Scott as Moriarty pumpkin that I got spectacularly pranked with this morning.

[hot-on-my-watch]

I've now posted 8 chapters of my mature, miscommunication-based mega-angsty fanfic of an existing Sherlock JohnLock fanfic with (I swear!) big feels, some fluff and headcanons woven in and an eventual happy ending.

That's half the number of chapters but tbh the rest are pretty short so the story is 2/3s complete.

I'm so going to miss doing this when it's over!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[hot-on-my-watch]

A Binding Broken- Chapter 6: Confront

Despite the air of nonchalance with which he departed Speedy’s, the confrontation had left Sherlock spiralling. He trailed the parks of central London for what felt like an age, unable to properly concentrate and dropping crumbs, cheese and pickle on the paths.[1]

He wondered half-aloud where John had got to now- which office he was in, with which man. Even John knew women didn’t care about ties,[2] and the cut of his jacket did nothing for his figure. So who was he trying to impress? But then John was bi; had he chosen a gay man? Did that explain the shine of his shoes?

Of course it was good that John was trying again- with the talking or whatever people did. Sherlock wanted John safe, well and happy. With him or even without. Just as long as he didn’t have to see the latter for any length of time, or to be anywhere painfully near it.

And of course he wasn’t happy, hadn’t been for a long time.

John had broken his strictest of boundaries when he was frustrated with Sherlock; that much had always been clear. And because he struck again when reminded of his ex-wife, his never-born baby, Sherlock’s fall, it could seem to be comfort he sought. Every creature sought  comfort: a common aphrodisiac, an antidote to anger. Even for John, perhaps. 

John who normally favoured a glass of the good stuff, a gun, and would hardly accept help- even hankies.

From him.

Had his role in John’s life changed so much?

And what would that say if it had?

But comfort was soft, slow and warm, not frantic and red raw and fast. Comfort was fried carbohydrates and a hug from your sister. It was the rainbow of hope after The Flood; a brightly coloured badge pinned on a cosy brown jacket, perhaps.

Sherlock hated that particular pride pin with passion: the incursion, the trespass in his hallway, on his John. His John that "wasn't" that way inclined. 

When the sex had occurred John was not just upset. It was when Sherlock made dinner. When he insisted John sleep, just as often as not. Those were the nights he felt a firm hand on his hip or caught a certain expression, before being swept up against a doorway, a table, his bed.

It was never a complete surprise, not since the second time. Sometimes it was even predictable: Sherlock would start reaching out for John's shoulders, just as he slid into his personal space. It didn’t scare him, not physically; he could give back as good as he got. But where it came from he still couldn’t tell.

Continue reading on a03...

P.S. Thankyou to @queerholmcs for the inspiration to include footnotes on a fic. I don't know how rare the practice is, but I personally find it delightful!

[of-magpies-and-murders]

It has come to my attention that the original link to this masterpiece of a video no longer works on the archive of John Watson's original blog. So I post it here for those who wish it. Enjoy!