#lock_john_silver

[lisbeth-kk]

WIP Sunday

It Takes a Village

So, instead of finishing this FTH fic, I decided to tease you with an excerpt of the first meeting between Sherlock and John in this AU where no one is who they normally are in the series. This is Sherlock reminiscing back to that meeting.

It had been an ice-cold January afternoon. The darkness outside was absolute, and Sherlock was about to close the salon for the day. Nobody would venture out if they didn’t need to; Sherlock knew the residents of Arboreta Combe, they were nothing but predictable in their actions. So, it surprised him to no end when the bell over the door chanted and a man stepped over the threshold, closing the door firmly behind him. He rubbed his bare hands together and brought them closer to his face to blow hot breath into his palms.

The man was at least five inches shorter than Sherlock. His hair was blond with streaks of silver. His blue eyes widened when he recognised the colour palette of the salon, but he didn’t remark on it.

“Do you have a spare moment to cut my hair?”

“As you can see, the salon is quite empty, but I don’t think I am the right hairdresser for you.”

“Cheeky,” the man chuckled, then smiled up at Sherlock.

This changed his face completely. He looked ten years younger, and his shoulders finally relaxed, though Sherlock detected something sorrowful lingering in his posture, nonetheless.

“I have rules and standards,” Sherlock explained.

“Do you now? Let’s hear them, then.”

There was a challenging undertone in his voice, which made Sherlock’s stomach flutter slightly.

“If I don’t like your suggestions, I won’t cut your hair. I know what suits people, and I refuse to let them walk out of here looking like morons.”

“I see. Do you enjoy playing God in this little kingdom of yours?”

The challenge had turned to steel, now. Sherlock shivered before he huffed in annoyance.

“It is my salon, and I do as I please. If you don’t like my terms, please feel free to bugger off.”

This usually did the trick, but this man was stubborn, and he didn’t look the least bit perturbed. The fluttering in Sherlock’s stomach intensified.

“So, tell me why you think I want a haircut you don’t approve of.”

“Obvious,” Sherlock said and rolled his eyes. “You’ve had the same style for what, fifteen years?”

“Fourteen, actually.”

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Tagging some who might be interested to read when the time comes.

@totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @keirgreeneyes @blogstandbygo @redmondcollege

@raina-at @meetinginsamarra @chriscalledmesweetie @helloliriels @221beloved

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[meandhisjohn]

Vulnerability is a gift in the hand of a person who shows you unconditional trust and love.

This is what I learned from the boys and from @lisbeth-kk

Her way to show love,trust, and loyalty in her stories is a gift in itself.

Her boys teach us the difference between caring and indifference, and between sex and love making.

A world where your partner is your best friend, without ever losing your own independence.

Therefore, it was a joy and a privilege to edit the story.

"Always a Soldier " with pictures, and I hope you will enjoy my way to thank her.

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

@helloliriels @jobooksncoffee @thepolyamorywriter @totallysilvergirl @reed-anderson @whatnext2020 @apazwtsn @peanitbear @naefelldaurk @ghostofnuggetspast

[cupidford]

Hope is Sweet by Lock_John_Silver

Johnlock Love Letters #2330

Sherlock wants to be more than John’s best friend. Has wanted it for ages, truth be told. So, when Molly comes up with an idea, that to some extent involves three year old Rosie, Sherlock doesn’t hesitate.

[lisbeth-kk]

Anniversary!

Today marks the fifteenth anniversary of BBC Sherlock - a show that changed so many lives forever. Some have left, others stayed, and new fans are still finding their way to our Hotel California. My flash fiction is an homage to the series, with the unequivocal Johnlock content we never got in the show.

It Has to Be Perfect

So far, the year has been a disaster. It’s now July, and they are six months late for their celebration. 

In January, the month of the anniversary, Sherlock was shot. He spent almost a fortnight in the hospital to recover, much of the time blissfully unconscious. Blissfully for him, not so much for John Sherlock knows.

When March arrived, he was properly healed, but then one of John’s patients infected the good doctor with the flu, which led to a bedridden and highly annoying John. At one point, Sherlock was tempted to flee to his parents with Rosie. Said temptation lasted for a quarter of an hour, because the world’s only consulting detective would be lost without his beloved blogger, conductor of light, the love of his life – so he stayed and endured it.

Finally, May was there but the joy was short lived when their precious daughter fell from a tree, broke her leg, the left wrist, and got a concussion. She gave John a competition to be the world's worst patient.

Mycroft was of course the next in line to throw a spanner in the works when he got abducted by some foreign government’s hired muscles, and Sherlock and John had to rescue him.

***

“It has to be perfect,” Sherlock mutters to himself.

What he means is not what ordinary people perceives as perfect, obviously. No, it’s the kind of perfect that fits him and John – the kind others think of as gross, detestable, slightly insane, and a reason to call a lawyer to get a divorce, and/or run for the hills.

During his convalescence and John’s flirt with the flu, Sherlock’s had plenty of time to plan and scheme. It is not a thing they have discussed at length; neither of them wants a grand celebration – it is after all their anniversary, nothing to do with other people.

“Except for Mike,” John had said when Sherlock had breached the topic in December of last year.

“You, me, and Mike?” Sherlock had asked, his tone apprising John how ludicrous he thought of such a celebration.

“Alright. Just you and me, then.”

“Perfect,” Sherlock beamed and gave John a deep kiss.

***

Sherlock second-guesses his final plan. After discarding more daring and dangerous outings - running after random taxis, breaking into secret military facilities he’s discovered when he cracked Mycroft’s password, attending a knife throwing course – he pondered to recreate their first meeting, but that would be utterly awkward and forced. 

“Where are we the happiest?” he asks himself.

The image of 221B instantly floods his mind and the broad smile on his face is impossible to suppress.

Home it is, then.

***

“Did you…? You? You did all this?”

John’s voice is warm with affection but also has a hint of incredulity to it.

“Problem?”

His normal response makes John giggle.

“Of course not, love.”

“Do you perhaps have a kiss for me?”

Sherlock tries to act haughty, but it’s been years since he was able to fool John.

“As many as you like. Fifteen for starters? To mark the years?” John suggests.

“Mm, brilliant,” Sherlock hums and gathers John in his arms to snog him properly.

***

221B is transformed – not into an unrecognisable place – that wouldn’t be beneficiary for what Sherlock hopes to achieve. Granted, he has tidied a bit, so they won’t trip over books and other clutter that the three inhabitants seem to procure from thin air. 

The kitchen table is pristine and void of experiments and his microscope, though. A white tablecloth, a loan from Mrs Hudson, looks a bit strange in these surroundings, but the plates, cutlery, linen napkins, wine glasses, candles, and the red roses, add a kind of normality. 

“Did you cook as well, or is it – “

“I did. Coq-au-vin. It is the easiest recipe I know, and also one of my favourite dishes. The only thing it requires – in abundance – is time. And lots of wine.”

“Have I told you how amazing you are?” John whispers and kisses Sherlock’s jaw.

“I can’t recall that you ever stopped,” Sherlock replies teasingly, despite that it’s not entirely true.

John blushes and Sherlock knows he’s said the wrong thing. Bringing up their estrangement is never a good idea.

Before Sherlock can say sorry, John cups his face with both hands, placing a thumb over his lips to stop the word.

“None of that, my darling. It is what it is. We can’t undo the past, so we’re living in the present, yeah?”

Sherlock nods and fights to hold back his tears. He loves this man so much; more than life itself. No words can convey what John means to him. He knows John has an inkling, but the depth of his love is insurmountable to communicate. 

Sherlock looks down into John’s beautiful blue eyes and the evidence of the love he’s presented with takes his breath away. Even after fifteen years John can do that to him. They haven’t been romantically involved for all those years - only eight - though the devotion and love were always there; buried underneath denial, too many girlfriends, a lethal wife, and insecurity.

“I love you,” he murmurs and leans his forehead against John’s.

“And I you, Sherlock,” John whispers and kisses him.

They kiss for so long that Sherlock loses all sense of time, which makes his heart swell with adoration.

“Did the cock get all the wine, or have you saved some for a toast?”

“The mouth on you, John Watson!” Sherlock exclaims, pretending to be scandalised. 

John swats his arse when Sherlock turns to fetch two glasses and a bottle of Côte du Rhône.

“Happy anniversary, John.”

“Happy anniversary, my love.”

“To fifteen more?” Sherlock inquires.

“God, yes!”

It’s the perfect reply, calculated with almost one hundred percent accuracy.

Sherlock winks at John just like he did fifteen and a half years ago in the lab at Barts, on the 29th of January. 

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[lisbeth-kk]

The May Chapter Is Here!

Fluffbruary Extended Version Infinifluff. May 14. (Sherlock fandom) Prompts: grow - shrub - soil + the image below

Chapter 3: 221B

Summary: John explores the inside of Sherlock's cottage, which is just as enigmatic and eccentric as its owner. When he asks the question he's wanted to get an answer to for a while, he's totally unprepared for Sherlock's reaction. However, the doctor in him reacts instinctively.

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[lisbeth-kk]

Let the restaurant crack commence!

This crack fic is inspired by @barachiki's post and some of my own experiences.

Chapter 1 - The Empire

Summary: Mycroft Holmes has just had a meeting with the manager of Chez 1895, Gregory Lestrade, and he needs to cool down lest he combust from pure arousal. A trip to one of the Holmes empire's Swiss restaurants will ensure that his impeccable calm is restored.

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@couldbecannibal @2old2b-fangirl @dw91165 @jonkwatson @binx72

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[lisbeth-kk]

A Wee Update.

A sentence I never thought I'd write: "I love you more than my finest knife."

That's what the tag crack fic does to me, apparently.

Chez 1895 might possibly soon be at an end, but who knows...the boys are incorrigible at this point...

Thanks so much to @barachiki for the inspiration and the photo above. I'm having a blast with this!!!

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@meetinginsamarra @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear

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@ninasnakie @7-percent @lhrinchelsea @chriscalledmesweetie @missdeliadilisblog

@salmonsown @oetkb12 @jawnscoffee @gay-ass-bitch @acumberlockedgirl

@willamholmeswatson @whatnext2020 @mydogwatson @redmondcollege @thegildedbee

@ilovegayangels @elizabethhoodstyles @xmengal03 @riversong912 @givemesherbet-blog-blog

@couldbecannibal @2old2b-fangirl @dw91165 @jonkwatson @binx72

@macgyvershe @dragoonthegreatest @kholkate @fookincarrotsandpotatoes28 @talkativeanxiousturtle

@twoandahalfdimes @desi-yearning @johnlock-and-tea @llcsecret @jobooksncoffee

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@procrastinatorasfuck @writing-is-like-breathing @susanwhynow @debzwez @hot-on-my-watch

@solarmama-plantsareneat @the-cat-writer @futurewr1ter @copperplatebeech

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[lisbeth-kk]

Purposeful Guidance (new fic alert!)

Happy New Year!

Have a brand new instalment in the Mrs Hudson's Diary series. (You don't have to have read the others; they're all standalone)

Chapter 1 - Find the Words

Summary: The New Year's Concert from Vienna is over, and Mrs Hudson marvels in the fact that both Sherlock and John are on the right track. At long last!

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