Day twenty-four
Pirates by elldotsee. 400 words. Rated G
Summary: Sherlock and John do some digging in the Holmes' attic.
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Day twenty-four
Pirates by elldotsee. 400 words. Rated G
Summary: Sherlock and John do some digging in the Holmes' attic.
JOHN AND SHERLOCK’S SCRAPBOOK: PAGE 8
Sources: [x] [x] [x] [x]
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Coat’s Prompt Roundup for October
Are you as excited for fall...oops...autumn...as I am? Here are a few prompts with autumn themes, horror, werewolves, vampires, ghosts, the supernatural, and costumes, (uh, roleplay counts as costumes, right?)
Please. Pirate!Sherlock, if you would. It would mean the world to me since I'm 120,000 words into writing this pirate!sherlock fic and it's killing me xx
Sorry for making you wait!
Hey guys ! News about my Sherlock cosplay. About a month ago I thought that Sherlock was a character many people had already cosplayed... I was thinking about creating a more personal version. Then I suddenly remembered that as a child Sherlock wanted to be a pirate (+ Pirates of the Caribbean 5 definitely put me back in a pirate mood 😂). So I chose to make a Pirate!Sherlock costume 🗡🔫⚙🗝🌊⛵🏝🍺🐙💎💀*stop* Aaaaand here are some WIP pics. Still have a lot of work to do... ! My FB cosplay page : Sora Costumes
Our Dreams Made Real// Sherlock Holmes
Yay! Another oneshot! Here we go!
Requested by Anon: You were with Sherlock before the Reichenbach Fall as his wife. With being the consulting Detectives spouse you also claim his friends, which is how you grew close to John Watson, who is unaware just like yourself that the entire thing was faked. The rest? You’ll have to keep reading.
Set Post 2x03 and during 3x01
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
‘’John, give the phone to y/n please.”
“Sherlock, there has to be a way for us to get you out of this.” You pleaded, leaning all your weight against John as you knees began to buckle. “Please, please tell me there’s a way out of this.”
“I need you to keep living. When I’m gone, I want you to find a new husband. Go to the opera. Dance in the rain. Just be.. you. Can you do that for me?” You pressed your hand over your mouth and nodded, screwing your eyes tightly shut as tears threatened to fall from your eyes. “Goodbye y/n.”
“SHERLOCK!”
The weightlessness. The fall. Your heart stops beating, then it’s over.
That had been over a year ago. Just as Sherlock had requested, you’d done all the things the two of you had written down that you would do together. You dressed in Sherlocks favorite dress and attended the opera in Central London. You stood outside on the sidewalk in the pouring rain on Baker Street and danced your favorite dance- the waltz. But you did it alone and it tore you apart.
The one thing you consistently did to try and lift your spirits was visit John, who had moved out of Baker Street and spiraled into a depression. You had never expected to rely on John, but here you were, spending all your available time with the War Doctor who never returned home.
“He’s dead, y/n. You spent all those months inside a dead mans flat expecting.. what? For him to return?” John snapped, running his hands through his mussed blonde hair. You rose an eyebrow and pressed your hands against your hips, prepared to take on the rage that John had been keeping pent up. “Do you ever allow yourself to grieve? To just.. fall apart?”
“You want to know when I fell apart John? When my husband told me to go do all the things that we were supposed to do. When Sherlock Holmes, the most intelligent man and my best friend, actually jumped off a roof because he thought he was a fraud. That’s when I fell apart. Now I have to believe that there’s something greater coming, and maybe if I’m lucky..” You exhaled through your nose and lifted your head to meet Johns eyes. “He’ll come back to me.”
After constant contemplating, you found yourself inside of 221B despite the fact it was a mess, beginning to piece it back to what it used to be. The skull returned to the mantle, the violin was tuned, the chemistry set cleaned and returned to its rightful place.
It was in May of the following year by the time you were beginning to feel like yourself. It was remarkably warm for London, and you were finishing the last of the spring cleaning with the windows open. Mrs. Hudson had brought up your morning tea, commenting on how much brighter you seemed to be.
“Why on Earth do you continue to watch that rubbish?” A deep baritone, one that constantly haunted your dreams remarked. “You have such a brilliant mind that you could deduce the endings of every episode of this show.”
You slowly turned around to meet those familiar, deep blue eyes that you loved so much. Your husband of now three years stood in the doorway, discarding his Belstaff over John’s old chair as he took another step towards you. “If you take another step towards me, I may slap your pretty face.” You said quietly. “Is this a dream? Because I did watch you fall. Off a tall building.”
“I can explain everything I did later, but right now, let me hold you.” He commented. Your eyes narrowed as Sherlock took another step towards you, his muscular body just now inches from your own. Everything you had been feeling since watching him jump off that roof came rushing out at once- anger, guilt, rage, indescribable sadness, rushed through your blood stream and collided with Sherlocks cheekbone in a slap so hard that it jarred his head to the side. “Oh, I forgot you had a fantastic slap.”
“You let me go two years convinced that you were dead, you twit!” You exclaimed. You squirmed as his arms wrapped around your waist and his head fell to your shoulder, his breath warming your chilled skin. “I can’t believe you did this, you ignorant-”
“Shhhh.” He whispered softly, his hands wrapping around your hips underneath his lavender dress shirt on your body. “Did you do all those things I told you to do? Go to the opera? Dance in the rain?”
The tension in your shoulders receded as you registered the feeling of his hands sliding up your body. Hands so warm and so inviting that it sent chills down your spine. “Everything I could do on my own. I even danced the waltz, alone. That’s our dance. Why did you lie to me?”
“I disassembled Moriarty’s crime network all across Eastern Europe. It took me two years and alot of torture to endure, but I did it. Mycroft got me out of Serbia and brought me back here. back to you and John. It’s finished. I’m not going anywhere ever again, my love.” Sherlock tilted your head up and captured your lips in his own, smiling against your mouth as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss. It felt so good to be in his arms, to feel his heart beat beneath your hands, to be able to say you’re still here with me.
When he pulled away, you spun past him and into the kitchen, pulling out the black journal you’d been crossing out things like your opera and dancing in the rain. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow as you turned the journal around and ran your fingertip over the largest written event on the page.
Let Sherlock fulfill his dreams of being a pirate
“You didn’t.”
“Oh, but I did.”
Less than an hour later, you were standing inside a fishing vessel, outstretched on a deep red pool chair with sunglasses perched on your nose. “Are you having fun up there love?” You called out, tipping your head upward as your husband appeared at the wheel, wearing a pirate hat on top of his raven curls. “You make a devilishly sexy pirate.”
You gasped as Sherlock picked you up and wrapped an arm around your waist, allowing you to lean over the railing and feel the cold, salty sea spray on your face. Sherlock grinned widely as you lifted your head and met his eyes. “You want to sail the seas with me?”
“Only if you’ll wear the hat.”
“I’ll always wear the hat.”
Yo ho
All hands
Hoist the colors high
Heave ho
Thieves and beggars
Never shall we die
- Pirates of the Caribbean 3
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AND THAT SHERLOCK FINALLY GOT HIS PIRATE MOMENT HOW FUCKING HAPPY MUST HE HAVE BEEN TO TAKE OVER A LITTERAL SHIP LIKE A FUCKINGSHDKD PIRATE UGH IM JUST TRYING TO SEE THE GOOD IN ALL THIS AND HONESTLY ALL THE SMOL GOOD THINGS ARE REALLY SMOL AND PURE SO FAR
Prompt #239
BBC, Sherlock/John