#queerplatonic johnlock

[adhd-cepheus]

I think reason why I'd probably say no if you asked if I shipped Johnlock romantically is because I don't know how to define them. I can't imagine them outright saying "I love you" or kissing or having a ceremony but I could see them wearing matching rings without ever mentioning it. I can see them swearing time and time again to protect and stay by each other. I see them as more than friends but trying to define what that more is just doesn't work for me.

[hancrow]

This is basically the same thing as my previous Hobbit/LOTR Post, just with a different fandom and I find this hilarious

Like, do I abso-fucking-lutely adore Johnlock from the bottomest of my heart??

Yes

But as a aroace person I just sometimes want some nice ol’ qpr shit, right?

So I go looking in AO3 like “gimme qpr johnlock pls it ain’t that hard”

And I realize… wait.

That’s just what fucking canon was

[fictionfromthevoid]

Stop trying to find me a wife! -

Aroace! ACD Sherlock Holmes oneshot

Summary: Holmes angrily makes it clear to Watson that he is Aroace and that Watson should stop trying to find a partner for him. (The word aroace isn't used since it didn't exist back then)

Based on the Prompt:

"So you're just going to trample over their feelings like this?" Doctor Watson snapped at his friend Sherlock Holmes.

"Their feelings? Why is it always other people's feelings? What about my feelings instead?" the detective answered, visibly exasperated.

This took the doctor aback. He wasn't used to such emotional outbursts from his friend. Did Sherlock Holmes of all people just talk about his feelings? He stayed silent since he suspected his friend of having more to say. He was right.

"I am sick and tired of people pushing romance onto me when I have voiced countless times that I have no interest in such matters" Holmes ranted. "Especially you should know by now. Still, you keep nagging me every chance you get. I've tolerated your countless matchmaking attempts. I've told you over and over, very politely if I may point out, to refrain from any further attempts to find a romantic partner for me but you never listened."

Watson felt ashamed and guilty at the words of his best friend. It was true that he had fun teasing the detective about the women swooning over him and that he has gone out of his way once or twice to arrange a date for his friend. He was looking for a wife, so to him, it was the most natural thing that Holmes should also marry one day. Watson had assumed that Holmes had just been too consumed by his work to waste a thought about romance and that the detective just didn't know what was good for him so the doctor had taken matters into his own hands.

Just now, they had come back from a dinner the doctor had arranged with a very nice lady. After seeing through the plan Holmes had turned the woman down, rather rudely for the doctor's taste, and promptly left the restaurant. The Woman was rather hurt and so now back at Baker Street Watson thought it to be his duty to scold his friend for his unacceptable behaviour.

"Yes, I was rude to Miss Bell. Yes, I may have hurt her feelings but she will get over it." Holmes interrupted the thoughts of his best friend. "But I am done with being polite. I am done with being polite to women who will practically throw themselves onto me, not even caring when I tell them I am not interested."

It was true that his fame, earned through Dr Watson's stories, had brought the detective quite a large number of admirers of any gender who sometimes were ... very persistent with their affection.

"And you Watson, instead of having my back, you encourage them. You tell them I just need to be convinced to go out with them. You tell them to keep trying and not lose hope. And when I adopt a harsher tone to turn down the people you gave false hope, or that you even brought to me in the first place, you get mad at me for hurting their feelings." Holmes was getting more and more frustrated

"What about my feelings? Don't you realise that you hurt MY feelings when you ignore my wishes in such a severe manner? I have trusted you when I told you that I have no interest in romance or the intercourse that often comes with it whatsoever. Information that is quite personal and rather frowned upon in our society. And you disregarded this completely and keep trying to push these things onto me nonetheless"

He let himself fall into his armchair defeated. His head in his hands, so that his face was covered, waiting for an answer from the doctor. Although he didn't expect his friend to understand this time.

Dr Watson was still processing what he had just heard. In retrospect, he had been a bad friend in this matter. He now realised that. To him, it was unimaginable that someone could not be interested in romance. But Sherlock Holmes wasn't, he understood that now.

He went over to his friend and put a comforting hand on Holmes's shoulder.

"I am truly sorry, my dear friend, for I have been a very bad friend to you. I should have listened to you. I should have believed you when you told me how you felt about these things. But it was just something so obscure and unimaginable to me that I couldn't accept it to be true. I now feel ashamed of my behaviour. I apologize and I hope you can forgive me. I promise to never try to find you a wife again."

The detective looked up at him with tired eyes

"I also promise to take it seriously in the future when you communicate your feelings on any matter to me. I sometimes forget that you have such things as feelings since you are usually rather private with these." The lips of Holmes curled into a barely visible smile. Still, his eyes looked as tired and defeated as before.

"I am very grateful that you now told me with such severity how you felt about this, although I should have picked up on this before. My dear Holmes, I am very sorry and I hope you can forgive me."

Dr Watson ended his apology speech. Holmes stood up from his armchair and embraced his best friend in a hearty hug.

Since then the life of Mister Sherlock Holmes was free of any kind of unwanted romantic attention. His best friend fiercely shielded him from annoying admirers and kept true to his promise to never nag him about romance again.

[ezra-didntreallyfall]

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

Queerplatonic Johnlock, anyone?

[wish-ful-thinking513]

Wanna start a chain of characters we ship in a qpr?

I’ll start with some of mine

Aziraphale and Crowley

Sherlock and John

Link and Zelda

Honorable mention: me and Sherlock

Also me and Arthur

[bluebeaniefrog]

Sherlock Headcanon/Fic Prompt

Sherlock is aromantic. John is chronically heterosexual. And yet they somehow end up in a queerplatonic relationship without even realizing it until it's pointed out to them in a queer bar. (It was for a case John.)

[fandom-star]

I've never liked Johnlock. I've always said it's because I read the books first and at the time I read them, I wasn't into slash shipping and obviously there couldn't have been anything obvious in them because of the era. Honestly, I don't know if that's true, because I also didn't ship characters when I started watching Sherlock.

But since becoming more involved in the a-spec community, I've begun to absolutely adore queerplatonic Johnlock. Like, I absolutely love it! I've been reading as many fics about John and Sherlock being in a qpr since last year!

You want to know something that's really funny though.

I've actually had nothing to do with Sherlock and haven't watched it since 2017, since shit went down in the fandom after s4. That's my official and man reason. My other reason, one I never really talk about, is that since getting into slash shipping, I'm terrified of ruining my current perspective of John and Sherlock's relationship.

Anyway, I'm not sure why I'm posting this. I've just been reading some queerplatonic Johnlock fics this evening and thought I'd share my mind.

~Ell

[darkangelz87]

Different Perspectives

A Autistic Sherlock and eventually Queerplatonic Johnlock fanfiction. Read if you want. ^^

                                     Seeing from Different Perspectives

                                                                                                                           Chapter One

 Autism.

: a mental condition, present from early childhood, characterized by difficulty in communicating and forming relationships with other people and in using language and abstract concepts.

Vague snapping of fingers, twirling, chewing on pencil erasers, sleeves and hands, bright lights, colors, sounds, texture of food and clothing, comforting or abrasive, touch, unwelcome and hurtful, eye contact, nope, thoughts merging and turning into screams… “STOP!”

Sherlock froze, shocked at the sound of his own voice ringing in his ears as he still was pulling at his curly hair, his eyes growing watery with unshed and unwanted tears as he stared straight ahead which happened to be right above a crowd of milling people in a shopping mall and dear lord, no, John was here. He didn’t want John to see this!

John Watson stopped what he was doing which was interrogating a passerby and he immediately strode over to him where he was sitting on a bench, the army doctor mask coming over his face as he leaned down, trying to catch his eye sight, “Hey! Sherlock! You okay? What’s wrong?”

Sherlock frowned, an eyebrow twitching.

Okay… I should probably start from the beginning.

I was diagnosed with Autism as a child and that combined with my brilliant mind and swift calculations was an astounding combination.

I saw it as a gift, my brain but I learned from other people especially my family and fellow childhood students that it wasn’t such a brilliant thing.

I remember enjoying and getting lost in the rays of sunlight through dust motes and how my pleasure points of my brain lit up with joy as I spent hours running my hands through the magical streams. I tried to show it to my family and got scolded for spending hours loafing when I should be studying.

My first special interest and happens to still be a dear interest of mine before studying murders, literature and violin was the wonder of bees. I fell in love with them after I saw my first bumble bee. One landed on a flower near me as I sat studying on a hill near our old house and when my eyes strayed to it, I felt something in me stir with silent wonder at its tiny fuzzy body and its low almost soothing buzzing. I watched it, enthralled until it flew away, and I rushed into the house, went to the family computer and quickly searched ‘Bees’.

I began to draw hundreds of bees, reading and studying everything about them and catching them, putting them in jars and letting them go after a while. The thing that blew my young mind and made me admire the little insects even more is, scientifically, the bumble bee’s wings should be too small for it to fly. Amazing little creatures that no one ever took notice of.

My bees ‘obsession’ was dismissed as a childish phase.

Flapping my hands when I was happy was discouraged ‘It was embarrassing’, twirling was considered dangerous to myself, to everyone around me and to the breakable objects within reach, when I was quiet and wanted to listen to Bach with my headphones on instead of struggling to push words out of my mouth I was considered uppity and snobbish.

Everything I did was wrong, so I started to formulate a blockade around me, my emotions and my autistic side was pushed down and restrained so I turned myself over to my mind and my calculating abilities and enhanced those qualities about myself instead and silently reveled in the praise it brought me from my family and the school faculty.

It didn’t help me with people though, they were a foreign entity and I didn’t want them to get too close to me because if they found out all about me they would surely go away, and I didn’t want the trouble, the headache and pain of relationships. And having girlfriends or boyfriends was out of the question. Sally Reed from high school tried to kiss me and I punched her for touching my tongue with hers and all the boys wanted to do with me was they hit me and taunted me for being smarter than them. I can’t help it if I knew the formula for pi in 4th grade, I naturally excelled at mathematics.

Later, I found my calling in being a consulting detective for Inspector Lestrade, it fully utilized my brain in a healthy way (drugs got my pent-up emotions and energy out when I was high, and I didn’t care about keeping up facades when I was stoned) and I could get along with Inspector Lestrade (Even if some of his group are complete idiots). I eventually found a promising flat with an acquaintance I knew from an old case, Mrs. Hudson. The only problem which was a big problem considering my sometimes-low funds (I refuse to ask Mycroft for anything if I can help it!) was I needed a flat mate to help me with the rent.

In walks John Watson.

I admit, at first, I was only interested in Watson because of his ability to pay some of the bills and to furnish half of the rent but then it turned to something else when he really listened to my deductions with almost a form of awe and a word whispered in complete reverence like: ‘Marvelous!’, ‘Brilliant!’, ‘Fantastic!’, the list went on and to top it all, he killed a man for me.

I haven’t known him for very long but what I do know of Watson, he intrigues me, and no one has ever intrigued me before. I wanted to keep him thinking that I was this intellectual genius, so I hid my disability from him with care the last couple of months that we have lived together.

Well, seems like the proverbial cat is out of the bag.

I didn’t want to go to a mall to talk to a jeweler that had been robbed from, it was a category 3 at least, not worth my interest but Watson had shown interest in it and he said it would be nice to hang out together, that it would be a casual time out together.

Uhuh… I should’ve went with my instinct and said, most definitely no!

It was an onslaught on my senses ever since we entered the doors. Screaming kids, chattering, giggling girls and boisterous laughter assaulted my ears, fluorescent lights glared in my eyes making my head pound with intense pain and people getting too close for comfort sometimes made my skin crawl and unpleasantly itch all over.

By the time I was clawing at my hair and screaming for everything to “STOP!” I knew my cover was blown.

I didn’t dare to look up when John asked what was wrong, but I gritted my teeth and clenched my eyes tightly shut, trying to shut out the imminent look of pity that would surely be coming from Watson.

What I didn’t expect was gentle, steady hands on both sides of my face.

My eyes flew open in shock and I blinked unexpectedly at the change of brightness as I slowly registered that John had just slipped a pair of sunglasses over my eyes.

I blinked up at John and he just smiled, a little smile that he shows sometimes when he is reading the paper, writing in his blog, or drinking an extra especially good cup of hot tea and he walked back to the jeweler, continuing to ask him questions.

I was dumbstruck.

I composed myself and quietly felt around in my faculties, testing myself to see if my senses had calmed down somewhat and found to my surprise that just dimming the lights had made the sounds more bearable and my pounding headache melted down to a tremor of pain. Note to self: Start carrying sunshades in coat pocket.

John walked back to me and I cocked my head to one side, looking up at him with a question on my face, he answered the quiet question, “Nothing that the police can’t solve by themselves.” I growled in annoyance, rolling my eyes, “Like I said, clearly a category 3, nothing of interest.” John grinned, shrugging, “Ah, oh well. It was worth getting out of the flat for a bit huh?” I snorted, looking away, “I’d rather dissect a skunk than be around these swaggering, giggling bags of testosterone and hormones.” John laughed, making me turn my eyes on him, really looking at him and seeing him, I quirked an eyebrow quizzically at this seemingly normal man and I smirked.

John Watson was anything but normal.

 Author’s note: This chapter is insanely short and kinda pointless lol but I just wanted to start this story with something sooo here it is! I’ve been wanting to write this for a very long time and I’m starting it! I’m excited! :) I will be using my own Autistic experiences in the story (Using sunglasses does help dim down sensory issues for me. I wear them in public a lot.). I hope to be able to kinda write and put together a guideline for the next chapter so it won’t be so short and kind of random and I am debating just keeping the story in Sherlock’s pov and not switching back and forth like I am prone to do.

But yeah, this story is about Autistic Sherlock and how he tries to act neurotypical and generally succeeds until John Watson comes in the picture and figures things out and the big thing is, John doesn’t care that Sherlock is Autistic and it may possibly be one of the things that he loves about him. 😊

Yes, there will be queerplatonic Johnlock a lot later in the story cause it’s a slow burn, very sloooow but cutesy fluffy slow burn.

Hope you guys like it and feedback is appreciated! 😊  

ω\$X�\$PD�l��}'Oe