For a while now — several months or so — I've been collecting really old posts of Johnlock and Sherlock content from the early 2010's, back when the show was still running and at it's peak. It's been great fun, but I've noticed that so many of the blogs are deleted or have been inactive for years. I was only able to find the beautiful old fan art, fan edits, first few metas/fan theories, and Setlock gifs or pictures from the time via crawling through long reblog chains. They were sadly quite hard to find, but very much worth it as I feel they are an important part of our fandom's history. I don't want them to be lost to time in the ever expanding Tumblrverse, and I fear that may genuinely happen because half of this old content is very poorly tagged! Making it even harder to find!
So I've decided to become a bit of an archive of sorts. From now on I'll be rebloging these seemingly forgotten fan creations with proper tags to bring them back to light, and hopefully thus less likely to disappear or become unheard of for newer fans. I'll try not to spam post too much, but I hope all my fellow Sherlockians will enjoy the time capsule.
The game is on!
Edit: Warning! Some of the things I reblog will be NSFW. View at your own discretion, and always listen to the tags. I also highly reccomened checking out @archiveofoursherlockart who is aiming to do the same thing :))
Warnings: self-doubt and self-worth issues, angst, anxiety, pessimism, apathy, job crisis, married sherlock, cuddles & kisses, and reassurances
Summary: Work and life in general have been draining your creativity, causing apathy to slip in. Luckily, Sherlock is home to listen to your worries and offer support, because deep down in the cold heart of his, he cares for you more than you know.
All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)
Word Count: 1.0k+
Note: Hello lovelies! It has been some time since I have written for my beloved detective. I sincerely hope you all enjoy the story. It has been difficult navigating the corporate world, so I needed to vent my frustrations. I hope this little story brings you comfort and joy! Graphic by @firefly-graphics. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! I highly recommend listening to Telomeres by Sleep Token to set the atmosphere.
Days come and go, some quick, some slow, but through it all, you cannot find yourself looking forward to anything, even when you have the weekends off. There always is something needing your attention, the focus, the lackluster drive you put forth in your everyday work.
Not that you were complaining. You were glad for the income as it provided for the groceries you dutifully purchased like clockwork on Saturdays.
Sometimes you longed for more - to be more. Yet with the passing days, time falls like thread through your fingers all too quickly; you struggle in deciding what to do with your evenings, how to spare a second of it that is not in perpetual motion of preparing for the next day.
The overwhelming decisions greet you at the threshold of the door, unburied by the deep secret longings of your soul. Alas, they feel dimmer the faster months fly by and you are unsure where to go from there.
Sherlock has noticed these brief moments of contemplation, when they turn quickly to a spiral leaving you paralyzed on the couch, tears welling behind your eyes.
You are so exhausted, yet so wired wanting to do anything, but your body and mind refuse wanting not but rest, while your hand aches to craft, do something fulfilling for once.
“There’s so much I want to do, but I cannot. It feels nigh impossible,” you tell him on one such night.
You’d had a particularly boring day at work, the most eventful part of the day having been your commute where you drowned out the upcoming monotony with music which had become your lifeline at the office. You’d watched an old lady crocheting, her fingers nimble and quick, a testament to her years of experience.
Then, a younger bloke sat across the aisle from you, pulling out a novel you’d been dying to read. You did not bother making conversation with him about it, though. It was hard to keep up small talk regardless of the conversation.
All too soon you’d made it to the office and your day began. Cup of coffee or tea, depending on your mood, which was coffee with a dash of cream and two packets of sugar. It was most needed for your sanity.
The remainder of the day passed at its own pace, filled with data entry, the occasional meetings and updates with your supervisor. Same shit different day, brand new week.
The consistency made you want to rip your hair out while staring at the computer screen, but this was the working world and the only thing helping your sanity was going home to be away from all of it. There you can feeling a little more human for the five hours you have before restarting it all again.
It does nothing more than make you feel like a failure, discarding away the time to do the activities you cherished, loved. The ones where you could escape and worry not about the following days ahead. You worried if anything, that you would not come back to them.
You were akin to a ship at sea, lost without its anchor in the lone tidal waves that crashed against you in their version of torment, unrelenting over and over again. The irony was that you let them wear you down to your skin and bones. Every damn day. You were sick of it.
All of these sentiments you relay to Sherlock in kind, the corner of his lip tilting in amusement as you pace back and forth animatedly, not interjecting, the sole audience of your performance.
He notices the wariness in your faltering steps, the burden you carry in the slight bend of your shoulders, the tension in your hands, tears building up behind your eyes.
“Stop,” he says abruptly, gaze boring into yours while he steeples his hands. “You have to stop this.”
You halt, frozen like a deer in headlights, pulse racing as you stop your animations, meeting his darkening gaze. Shit, you had messed up with your rambling.
You force back the tears threatening to follow, your heart skipping in staccato. His gaze remains unwavering and you swallow back the lump in your throat, shame and longing battling within.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”
Another sharp gaze pins you to the spot while he moves from his chair to tower over you. You take a shaky breath, hoping it will calm your nerves. For a moment, the wind whispers in the space between you, then silence accompanied by the thrumming of your heart.
“Look at me,” he says, tilting your chin up and wiping away a stray tear. “I’m here. It is okay.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, folding his arms around you in a protective embrace.
That's all it takes for the dam to break your body shuddering against him, twisting your hands into the fabric of his red dressing gown to ground yourself.
He says not a word, stroking your hair, running the other down your back in a soft comforting motion.
You’re grateful for moments like these albeit a little mortified but he never holds it against you. He knows the toll of living day by day can be excruciating, especially when dealing with one’s mind taunting them relentlessly.
After some time you mumble, “T-thank you. I’m s-sorry for all of this.”
Sherlock sighs, gripping your chin, forcing you to look into his piercing gaze. “You don’t need to be sorry. Ever. That’s what I am here for.”
“But - ”
“No. I mean it. As certain as the vows I took with you years ago. In sickness and health.” His gaze softens, eyes full of many unspoken emotions. “I will not leave you.”
You sniffle, squeezing him together, wanting to crawl underneath his skin, break open his rib cage and rest there away from the world. In a way you do, when he drags you to your shared bedroom, tucking you gently under the covers before procuring your favorite blanket and sweatshirt.
He sends a short abrupt text to John, asking for an array of your favorite snacks and drinks which is met with an enthusiastic “yes!” causing Sherlock to roll his eyes.
Eventually, he settles down next to you, pulling you close to his chest, allowing himself a smile as you wiggle closer to him, safe, warm, and, most importantly, loved.
hey everyone tell me what holmeses and watsons from completely different adaptations youd like to see interacting. i think mine would be jeremy brett holmes and jeremy brett watson
“I used to have a lot of explicit fantasies about you.”
Jim picks up his head from behind the laptop. “Did you, now?”
“Yeah, back while you were still being a cocktease, so, admittedly…”
“One, I was no such thing, and two, tell me more. What kind of fantasies?”
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Characters: Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Rating: Explicit
Warnings & Tags: Sadism, Dubious Consent, Violence, Roleplay, Identity Issues, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Physical Abuse
Word Count: 2468
Summary:
“People do love fantasising about what they can't have.”
Why do I always end up hating the most loved characters in fandoms???
Like I’ll start whatever piece of media fully prepared to love them as much as everyone else and then… I hate them with every fibre of my being.
Like in Doctor who I hate most modern companions, that’s my favourite show and I hate more than half of the characters??? And it makes me feel sexist cos most of the companions I hate are women?!? Like why???? It’s also really annoying cos I love most of their actors, so I’ll be excited when they’re announced as a companion only for me to hate them, wtf???
