I’ll try. thank you
Before John Watson, there was nothing but the cases. The hunt. The game. The expectations so often brought down by mediocrity and small minds. The cases - what he lived for. All that he lived for. Before John Watson, there was nothing but the next big thrill. The waiting. The frustration. The headaches. The dark days. Nothing but the time in between. Stagnant and stale and unacceptable.
Before John Watson, there was nothing but what would make it stop. Nothing but that which made his brain race, crystalize and spark back into everything it was supposed to be, that which took note of the dull and found the intricacies, rendered it fine…acceptable…good. Benzoylmethyl ecogine. C17H21N04. Odorless, white, perfect, cocaine. Mixed, a steady hand, find the vein, and…
Before John Watson, there was nothing. Nothing that mattered. Because he’d realized, through the days and days he’d been sitting, watching his friend’s prone form, pale hand clutching one with slightly less pallor…as he’d murmured reasons to stay, to wake up, to come back and whispered admissions of things he never thought he would say, secrets and vows, as if it would make a difference…he’d realized…if he lost John Watson…he would be lost…and then…then there would be nothing.
On AO3: x
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A short list of several types of poison and their effects.
A bittersweet breeze caresses John’s face in a way that is neither wanted nor welcomed. He is a soldier, proud and strong, but even the broken appreciate life less and less as the lonely days pass with their deceitful promises of tranquility. It was the doctor in him that encouraged a day out with Mike, not the man himself. John knows his condition is deteriorating and Sherlock would not be proud of him for his failure to move on.
“How is it in going, John?” Mike asks, turning his head to his friend with a deep look of concern. The once-blogger pushes out a long sigh, snapping sadly out of his daydreams and averting his gaze to the coffee in his hands.
“I think it’s good sometimes,” he lies.
“I still like to read your blog,” Mike admits, adding a small chuckle in attempt to cheer the mourning man up. “It looked a lot like you were falling for each other.”
Poor choice of words. The grim tones of his expression paint a new darkness, bringing out wrinkles Mike had yet to notice and rapid aging he was positive the grief was responsible for.
“He did fall, though…” John states at last, looking down at nothing particular and letting his mind wander to haunting, undetainable pleasures of the past. Mike faces away out of shame for his comment, desperately grasping for a topic that didn’t involve John’s consulting detective; a topic he knew didn’t exist.
gifs by martinbenedict. Do not delete the fic.
nope. nopE. noPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE I AM SO DONE WITH YOU THIS IS NOT OK THIS IS THE FARTHEST FUCKING THING FROM OK I DONT THINK YOU UNDERSTAND THE FACT THAT YOU JUST TORE MY SOUL UP INTO LITTLE SHREDS THAT DRIFTED OFF INTO THE BREEZE NEVER TO BE FOUND AGAIN NOPE I REALLY DONT LIKE YOU RIGHT NOW
You just destroyed my hopes and dreams with this post.
Something quick, while waiting for emails!
(sherlock then throws the solution out the window claiming it defamation of character)
for my sweet babe eve and her cute little series ❤
i’M DEAD sarah, DEAD THIS is the cutest thing I have ver seen look at your miniJOHN HE’S SO TINY na dhis face, and Sherlock ahahah bet you never saw this coming you little punk
The Doctor checks up on John while he’s at work, only to find him taking a little nap…
“What the…” Sherlock murmured, staring in awe at the spinning blue box that sped towards his moving taxi. Soon it was straight in front of him and the doors of the strange police box flew open; he was greeted by the Doctor who yelled at him urgently.
“Sherlock, you have to jump!”
The consulting detective wound down the window and tried to shout over the wind. “Don’t be ridiculous! Besides, I’ve had enough of jumping for a lifetime,” he added under his breath.
“The driver is a robot, it wants to kill you! It might be another of Moriarty’s creations. Look,” he said, noticing Sherlock’s scepticism, “Just trust me, you have to jump!”
OH MY GOD YES
Ok, someone needs to write this. PLEASE?
Christmas at 221B
This is brilliant!
Some sloppy Red pants Monday for you all :)
Lazy John doesn’t want to wake up.
Looking good, John Watson!