Sherlock BBC - John/Sherlock
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Theme set: Gamma
Title: N/A
Rating: G- hard R
Warning[s]: N/A
1. Ring
It never took more than a phone call to give that spark in Sherlock’s eyes, the very same one he unconsciously bestowed on John in bed.
2. Hero
He might not be a hero, but in John’s heart, he’d always be the caped avenger, bringer of peace.
3. Memory
John wanted more memories, only to have his propositions thwarted…Unless it was for a concert, something particular Sherlock enjoyed more than the quiet company of his John.
4. Box
It had to contain another head, there was no ‘if’s about it, judging from the leak on the kitchen table.
5. Run
Sherlock had given him running back, and John could only thank him the best he knew how; on his knees.
6. Rain
Under one umbrella, there was somehow room for the both of them.
7. Wings
Watching Sherlock sprawling on the bed, John could almost see the wings of the angel in marble.
8. Cold
John knew, as a medical fact, that he wasn’t cold, that freezing didn’t fit the equation, simply because he was in love.
9. Red
Rage was the colour behind his eyes when Sherlock first noticed the burgundy seeping from under John’s sleeve.
10. Drink
A refreshment, of Sherlock’s own concoctions, in which John dearly wished was a dash of plain old whisky - that would explain his inability to shut it as he blabbered on, confessing; Love.
11. Sofa
The threaded old thing carried memories, of night watching the telly, frolicking, trying to keep their voices down for Mrs. Hudson’s sake, crumbs of sandwiches lodged between the pillows from when Sherlock had been too ill to move… John shut the window of his computer and told IKEA to go fuck themselves.
12. Clouds
Resting his head on John’s shoulder, Sherlock formed figures from the clouds passing by, sharing his observations with John who giggled delightfully at that one particular one what looked exactly like a magnifying glass, his breath tickling Sherlock’s ear.
13. View
And what a view it was; naked to the eye of anyone but Sherlock’s who saw right through the skin and straight into the man’s heart, not to misuse the knowledge, but to make the best of it.
14. Music
Argentina, the beat of the tango suffusing in the air even though their hotel windows were securely locked, even though Sherlock was lost in research, it gave John no other option; May I have this dance?
15. Silk
Cold and uncomfortable, was the first thing to spring into mind when John laid on the expensive sheets - hot and clingy, was the judgment once Sherlock had had his way.
16. Cover.
Round the corner, onwards, feet tapping the tattoo of their hearts until they found the allay leading them to relative safety, and although there was no cover to be found, there were always phones, always communication, speechless moments of mutual understanding, and John dialed the number for Lestrade while Sherlock wielded John’s pistol somewhat dangerously.
17. Promise
“I’ll do it”, was the more than usual response to John’s inquiries whether Sherlock was going to pop my the shop, and as often, John dragged his booted feet towards the corner store, smiling pleasantly at the questions about Mr. Holmes’ health and well-being, only to swear in all quietness that he’s one day get what was coming for him, so help him God.
18. Dream
The first time Sherlock had a dream about John was a peaceful one, in which he only rested on John’s lap, and once awakened, resting on John’s lap, for once, it didn’t matter if it was a dream he was living.
19. Candle
Sherlock hissed loudly as the candle wax hit his chest, his whole body withering, trashing on their bed, his hands free to stop it any time he liked, but it was the last thing he wanted, as it was everything John could give him that he craved for, were it pleasure or pain, or pleasure in the disguise of pain.
20. Talent
John had an uncanny knack at observing when the fridge was empty enough to be filled with food again, which led to a discussion about body parts in said container, which ed to a bit of a ruse on Sherlock’s part, indignantly dragging another refrigerator into the flat, without John’s help, thank you, and a semblance of peace landed over 221b Baker Street.
21. Silence
The silence treatment ever worked on Sherlock, not when he was the master of going days on end without so much as a mumble to Johns direction, and so it was this backward, fucked up, seemingly unintentional silence that made John talk again, whether he liked it or not.
22. Journey
He considered it a leisurely trip into Sherlock’s subconscious every time Sherlock turned into something, someone he’d never seen before - teasing out a tear, laughing pretentiously, offering a limp hand - knowing, that in the end of the day, Sherlock would take the journey back to being the man John loved.
23. Fire
The colour of the fire was something John had never seen before, in its blue ice, burning deep and branding his heart until there was no escape, no other option but to wonder - hope- if his own eyes reflected the flames as he bent over Sherlock and never left his gaze while inhaling his cock.
24. Strength
Dragging a man head taller than himself, John considered it a feat, but the real burden dripped and flowed from the open gash in the right side of Sherlock’s torso, the burden which was John’s to carry, until he’d lost all his strength and could finally, in the early hours of the morning, rest beside the injured man.
25. Mask
When the invitation to the fancy ball had arrived with Mycroft’s sign and seal, John would’ve never thought he’d be staring at Sherlock Holmes in a black and blood-red cape, holding a white Harlequin mask over his eyes, revealing enough of his mouth to show off the smirk which more likely promised them being fashionably late, rather than arriving on time with the rest of polite society.
26. Ice
There were ice boxes everywhere, on every flat surface, on the floor, even on top of their two fridges, and John decided he wouldn’t caught dead wondering how on earth had Sherlock managed to get the entire remains of an explosion victim stashed in their flat, and went to turn up the radiator in stead, just because it was a bit chilly in here.
27. Fall
Breaking a bone that had already once been fractured was something of a pain from hell itself, and it didn’t do much for John’s dignity to have Sherlock fussing about, forcing him to stay in bed and bringing him chicken noodle soup, of all things, obviously, since that’s what they’d done on television while John had been out in the world getting himself broken and helpless…
28. Seat
Just because there weren’t enough seats in the dingy room where the equally dingy group of performers had their gig, shouldn’t have meant that Sherlock pulled John in his lap, wrapped his arms around him tight enough to stop John from wriggling, which was moot in the end, as Sherlock’s hands traveled in the darkness, finding bare skin, delving under layers of cloth and making John glad that he was sitting in Sherlock’s lap, since his arousal was just that glaringly obvious.
29. Dance
Neither of them danced, but it didn’t stop them from putting on the Ol’ Blue Eyes and sipping their wine while holding each other close, swaying to the music and reveling in the feeling of having this opportunity to have their dance, and one another.
30. Body
‘Lithe‘, was the word that came to John’s mind over and over again, once he’d gotten over the initial ‘pale’, the ‘Oh my God’ of finally, finally having the opportunity to see Sherlock as bare as he’d ever be, his secrets out like in an open book, while John’s hands read the Braille with gentle strokes along Sherlock’s sides, pushing deeper, to the hilt, until the only word to describe left was ‘writhe’.
31. Sacred
It wasn’t that John Watson believed in God as much as thought Him as the illogical presence to which all prayers were directed when one’s life was on the line, since who else were you supposed to talk to at moments like that, and even though Sherlock scoffed at such illogicality, he could, miraculously find it in him to actually understand, when John explained the circumstances, holding not God, but John sacred.
32. Life
Half empty just a year ago, overflowing by the time they’d decided to turn Sherlock’s bedroom into a study and share a bed, maybe, perhaps, all things considered, how they’d come to this, for life.
33. World
It drove Sherlock mad, the bloody megalomaniac, to finally understand his insignificance in the world, how he was but a man among men, and while brilliant, there had been people, and there would always be, who surpassed his ingenuity in so many ways, stomping on his originality like a frayed Welcome-mat on their way in and out, giving Sherlock some shit-eating grins on their way - but it was only Sherlock who John devoted his life to, and that was enough for Sherlock - to hell with the Universe.
34. Formal
Sherlock did formal like other people did their morning shower - without thinking it any futher, John and Sherlock had accepted the invitation to a formal dinner, in hopes to find a lead for their latest case, and while the invitation clearly stated an ‘Avec’, it never occurred to neither of them to be thrown out simply because they were both men.
35. Fever
Sherlock running a slight fever was a Sherlock out of hand - it was Sherlock up higher than a kite - his experiments becoming more and more dangerous by the time his eyes were gleaming and the pink flush had reached his high cheekbones, giving John no option but to grab a copy of one of Sherlock’s favourites and locking them in their room, asking Mrs. Hudson to leave some broth outside the door, as John would love to have a place for them to live in tomorrow still.
36. Laugh
It shouldn’t have been weird, but it was, stopping to think about it, that they never laughed at each other, not for one’s mistakes, lapses, stuttering, nothing, but it was always a joyous laugh that they shared, laughing with each other, like some magic stopped them in front of truly embarrassing one another, as if the entire world was their inside joke, even when Sherlock decided to yell at the telly, which should, by all rights, have been ridiculous.
37. Lies
Snakes in their paradise, roaches on the edge of the bath tub when one was going to take a relaxing bath, in hopes that their partner would join them, lies in between truths, confusing them into a whirling orb of brain matter on the wall to be dissected and taken apart, right until it became the truth, God’s honest sincerity, that it was nothing but a misunderstanding, and yet, it did take a bath, alone, disinfectant, a good scrub and ungodly amounts of understanding before the pieces of the puzzles fell into place - but fat, puss-filled lies, never.
38. Forever
Neither of them believed in forever, for it was something they wouldn’t be around to witness, which was as much as they’d proclaimed in their vows, still leaving the option of perhaps lingering in the air, the hope of the impossible, and with that, the deal was sealed.
39. Heart
The steady tattoo of John’s heart was something out of this world for Sherlock on a good night, while on a bad night he couldn’t stand to hear it, not feel the pulse on John’s neck, in fear that if he listened too closely, it would, irrationally, stop, leaving Sherlock in the darkness alone, when he needed his lover the most, and most definitely didn’t need the heart be burnt out of him.
40. Whisper
Cold lips brushed Sherlock’s ear when John stood on his toe tips to reach, delivering a message, meant only for Sherlock, in the chilly Spring night, hands stuffed into Sherlock’s pockets, facing him, waiting for the reply to the steamy whisper, John’s fingers lacing tightly around Sherlock’s as if I fear that he’d snatch his hands away, and while even the all-knowing night had no clue of what had been said, John found his answer in Sherlock’s smile, and the following, lingering kiss, which warmed John through and through, just like he asked.
41. Wait
Call it an epiphany for all Sherlock cared, but he couldn’t let John out the door, not like he’d done before and it had all turned into bollocks the moment the man had stepped out, without Sherlock, without nothing but his anger and his determined mind, and though Sherlock could hardly be called a superstitious man, he couldn’t let go; not without his final words of love and returning.
42. Talk
It was no more than their third crime scene together when even Anderson began to give the pair weird looks for completing each other’s sentences.
43. Search
As if he’d been searching in the first place, Sherlock found, like he always did, so effortlessly, the right answers, the cues, the clues, and then came the love.
44. Hope
Hoping against hope, John rushed to 221b Baker Street, his heart in his sleeve as well as in his throat, to find Sherlock safe, yet a bit shaken by the looks of it, after the explosion which adjusted not only their living arrangements, but also John’s priorities.
45. Eclipse
It wasn’t necessary the fascination of the Sun being swallowed by the shadow, nor was it the sudden silence when there was night in the middle of the day, but the pale, nigh see-through complexion of Sherlock’s skin which made John itch to touch, yet afraid that the magic would dissipate, the man looking so fragile he might crumble into shards of pure crystal from the faintest touch, so John did not.
46. Gravity
The sheer gravity of the words unspoken made the air pregnant with heavy breath and soundless groans, only touch giving away the depth which was held in the hands of a lover, as they roamed over the sheen of sweat on John’s chest, asking, as well as answering, and receiving more than he didn’t even know he wanted.
47. Highway
Sherlock actually drove a car.
48. Hands
Killing hands, saving hands, doctor’s hands, the hands of a man seen more than should be right in the world, in the hands of another, seen closer, clearly, logically throughout his whole life, fingers folding over to hold hard as if never letting go, bringing forth the perfect balance of need and understanding.
49. Lock
Sheepishly, Sherlock stood next to John’s bed in the small hours of the night, holding in his hand a gun, scratching his temple, looking lost and bewildered, remembering only picking the lock of John’s desk before realizing with a joyous relief, that John was now safe, in the hospital, and Sherlock, really, profoundly, needed a cigarette.
50. Breathe
Mere gasps escaped through Sherlock’s lips as he begged for John to thrust harder, deeper, as if to engulf the man and keep him there for the rest of their lives, his cock leaking on the bed sheets in time of the needy twitches, and the breath Sherlock took when John wrapped his fingers around Sherlock’s arousal, was all it took to brush the world away.
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Theme set: Gamma
Title: N/A
Rating: G- hard R
Warning[s]: N/A
1. Ring
It never took more than a phone call to give that spark in Sherlock’s eyes, the very same one he unconsciously bestowed on John in bed.
2. Hero
He might not be a hero, but in John’s heart, he’d always be the caped avenger, bringer of peace.
3. Memory
John wanted more memories, only to have his propositions thwarted…Unless it was for a concert, something particular Sherlock enjoyed more than the quiet company of his John.
4. Box
It had to contain another head, there was no ‘if’s about it, judging from the leak on the kitchen table.
5. Run
Sherlock had given him running back, and John could only thank him the best he knew how; on his knees.
6. Rain
Under one umbrella, there was somehow room for the both of them.
7. Wings
Watching Sherlock sprawling on the bed, John could almost see the wings of the angel in marble.
8. Cold
John knew, as a medical fact, that he wasn’t cold, that freezing didn’t fit the equation, simply because he was in love.
9. Red
Rage was the colour behind his eyes when Sherlock first noticed the burgundy seeping from under John’s sleeve.
10. Drink
A refreshment, of Sherlock’s own concoctions, in which John dearly wished was a dash of plain old whisky - that would explain his inability to shut it as he blabbered on, confessing; Love.
11. Sofa
The threaded old thing carried memories, of night watching the telly, frolicking, trying to keep their voices down for Mrs. Hudson’s sake, crumbs of sandwiches lodged between the pillows from when Sherlock had been too ill to move… John shut the window of his computer and told IKEA to go fuck themselves.
12. Clouds
Resting his head on John’s shoulder, Sherlock formed figures from the clouds passing by, sharing his observations with John who giggled delightfully at that one particular one what looked exactly like a magnifying glass, his breath tickling Sherlock’s ear.
13. View
And what a view it was; naked to the eye of anyone but Sherlock’s who saw right through the skin and straight into the man’s heart, not to misuse the knowledge, but to make the best of it.
14. Music
Argentina, the beat of the tango suffusing in the air even though their hotel windows were securely locked, even though Sherlock was lost in research, it gave John no other option; May I have this dance?
15. Silk
Cold and uncomfortable, was the first thing to spring into mind when John laid on the expensive sheets - hot and clingy, was the judgment once Sherlock had had his way.
16. Cover.
Round the corner, onwards, feet tapping the tattoo of their hearts until they found the allay leading them to relative safety, and although there was no cover to be found, there were always phones, always communication, speechless moments of mutual understanding, and John dialed the number for Lestrade while Sherlock wielded John’s pistol somewhat dangerously.
17. Promise
“I’ll do it”, was the more than usual response to John’s inquiries whether Sherlock was going to pop my the shop, and as often, John dragged his booted feet towards the corner store, smiling pleasantly at the questions about Mr. Holmes’ health and well-being, only to swear in all quietness that he’s one day get what was coming for him, so help him God.
18. Dream
The first time Sherlock had a dream about John was a peaceful one, in which he only rested on John’s lap, and once awakened, resting on John’s lap, for once, it didn’t matter if it was a dream he was living.
19. Candle
Sherlock hissed loudly as the candle wax hit his chest, his whole body withering, trashing on their bed, his hands free to stop it any time he liked, but it was the last thing he wanted, as it was everything John could give him that he craved for, were it pleasure or pain, or pleasure in the disguise of pain.
20. Talent
John had an uncanny knack at observing when the fridge was empty enough to be filled with food again, which led to a discussion about body parts in said container, which ed to a bit of a ruse on Sherlock’s part, indignantly dragging another refrigerator into the flat, without John’s help, thank you, and a semblance of peace landed over 221b Baker Street.
21. Silence
The silence treatment ever worked on Sherlock, not when he was the master of going days on end without so much as a mumble to Johns direction, and so it was this backward, fucked up, seemingly unintentional silence that made John talk again, whether he liked it or not.
22. Journey
He considered it a leisurely trip into Sherlock’s subconscious every time Sherlock turned into something, someone he’d never seen before - teasing out a tear, laughing pretentiously, offering a limp hand - knowing, that in the end of the day, Sherlock would take the journey back to being the man John loved.
23. Fire
The colour of the fire was something John had never seen before, in its blue ice, burning deep and branding his heart until there was no escape, no other option but to wonder - hope- if his own eyes reflected the flames as he bent over Sherlock and never left his gaze while inhaling his cock.
24. Strength
Dragging a man head taller than himself, John considered it a feat, but the real burden dripped and flowed from the open gash in the right side of Sherlock’s torso, the burden which was John’s to carry, until he’d lost all his strength and could finally, in the early hours of the morning, rest beside the injured man.
25. Mask
When the invitation to the fancy ball had arrived with Mycroft’s sign and seal, John would’ve never thought he’d be staring at Sherlock Holmes in a black and blood-red cape, holding a white Harlequin mask over his eyes, revealing enough of his mouth to show off the smirk which more likely promised them being fashionably late, rather than arriving on time with the rest of polite society.
26. Ice
There were ice boxes everywhere, on every flat surface, on the floor, even on top of their two fridges, and John decided he wouldn’t caught dead wondering how on earth had Sherlock managed to get the entire remains of an explosion victim stashed in their flat, and went to turn up the radiator in stead, just because it was a bit chilly in here.
27. Fall
Breaking a bone that had already once been fractured was something of a pain from hell itself, and it didn’t do much for John’s dignity to have Sherlock fussing about, forcing him to stay in bed and bringing him chicken noodle soup, of all things, obviously, since that’s what they’d done on television while John had been out in the world getting himself broken and helpless…
28. Seat
Just because there weren’t enough seats in the dingy room where the equally dingy group of performers had their gig, shouldn’t have meant that Sherlock pulled John in his lap, wrapped his arms around him tight enough to stop John from wriggling, which was moot in the end, as Sherlock’s hands traveled in the darkness, finding bare skin, delving under layers of cloth and making John glad that he was sitting in Sherlock’s lap, since his arousal was just that glaringly obvious.
29. Dance
Neither of them danced, but it didn’t stop them from putting on the Ol’ Blue Eyes and sipping their wine while holding each other close, swaying to the music and reveling in the feeling of having this opportunity to have their dance, and one another.
30. Body
‘Lithe‘, was the word that came to John’s mind over and over again, once he’d gotten over the initial ‘pale’, the ‘Oh my God’ of finally, finally having the opportunity to see Sherlock as bare as he’d ever be, his secrets out like in an open book, while John’s hands read the Braille with gentle strokes along Sherlock’s sides, pushing deeper, to the hilt, until the only word to describe left was ‘writhe’.
31. Sacred
It wasn’t that John Watson believed in God as much as thought Him as the illogical presence to which all prayers were directed when one’s life was on the line, since who else were you supposed to talk to at moments like that, and even though Sherlock scoffed at such illogicality, he could, miraculously find it in him to actually understand, when John explained the circumstances, holding not God, but John sacred.
32. Life
Half empty just a year ago, overflowing by the time they’d decided to turn Sherlock’s bedroom into a study and share a bed, maybe, perhaps, all things considered, how they’d come to this, for life.
33. World
It drove Sherlock mad, the bloody megalomaniac, to finally understand his insignificance in the world, how he was but a man among men, and while brilliant, there had been people, and there would always be, who surpassed his ingenuity in so many ways, stomping on his originality like a frayed Welcome-mat on their way in and out, giving Sherlock some shit-eating grins on their way - but it was only Sherlock who John devoted his life to, and that was enough for Sherlock - to hell with the Universe.
34. Formal
Sherlock did formal like other people did their morning shower - without thinking it any futher, John and Sherlock had accepted the invitation to a formal dinner, in hopes to find a lead for their latest case, and while the invitation clearly stated an ‘Avec’, it never occurred to neither of them to be thrown out simply because they were both men.
35. Fever
Sherlock running a slight fever was a Sherlock out of hand - it was Sherlock up higher than a kite - his experiments becoming more and more dangerous by the time his eyes were gleaming and the pink flush had reached his high cheekbones, giving John no option but to grab a copy of one of Sherlock’s favourites and locking them in their room, asking Mrs. Hudson to leave some broth outside the door, as John would love to have a place for them to live in tomorrow still.
36. Laugh
It shouldn’t have been weird, but it was, stopping to think about it, that they never laughed at each other, not for one’s mistakes, lapses, stuttering, nothing, but it was always a joyous laugh that they shared, laughing with each other, like some magic stopped them in front of truly embarrassing one another, as if the entire world was their inside joke, even when Sherlock decided to yell at the telly, which should, by all rights, have been ridiculous.
37. Lies
Snakes in their paradise, roaches on the edge of the bath tub when one was going to take a relaxing bath, in hopes that their partner would join them, lies in between truths, confusing them into a whirling orb of brain matter on the wall to be dissected and taken apart, right until it became the truth, God’s honest sincerity, that it was nothing but a misunderstanding, and yet, it did take a bath, alone, disinfectant, a good scrub and ungodly amounts of understanding before the pieces of the puzzles fell into place - but fat, puss-filled lies, never.
38. Forever
Neither of them believed in forever, for it was something they wouldn’t be around to witness, which was as much as they’d proclaimed in their vows, still leaving the option of perhaps lingering in the air, the hope of the impossible, and with that, the deal was sealed.
39. Heart
The steady tattoo of John’s heart was something out of this world for Sherlock on a good night, while on a bad night he couldn’t stand to hear it, not feel the pulse on John’s neck, in fear that if he listened too closely, it would, irrationally, stop, leaving Sherlock in the darkness alone, when he needed his lover the most, and most definitely didn’t need the heart be burnt out of him.
40. Whisper
Cold lips brushed Sherlock’s ear when John stood on his toe tips to reach, delivering a message, meant only for Sherlock, in the chilly Spring night, hands stuffed into Sherlock’s pockets, facing him, waiting for the reply to the steamy whisper, John’s fingers lacing tightly around Sherlock’s as if I fear that he’d snatch his hands away, and while even the all-knowing night had no clue of what had been said, John found his answer in Sherlock’s smile, and the following, lingering kiss, which warmed John through and through, just like he asked.
41. Wait
Call it an epiphany for all Sherlock cared, but he couldn’t let John out the door, not like he’d done before and it had all turned into bollocks the moment the man had stepped out, without Sherlock, without nothing but his anger and his determined mind, and though Sherlock could hardly be called a superstitious man, he couldn’t let go; not without his final words of love and returning.
42. Talk
It was no more than their third crime scene together when even Anderson began to give the pair weird looks for completing each other’s sentences.
43. Search
As if he’d been searching in the first place, Sherlock found, like he always did, so effortlessly, the right answers, the cues, the clues, and then came the love.
44. Hope
Hoping against hope, John rushed to 221b Baker Street, his heart in his sleeve as well as in his throat, to find Sherlock safe, yet a bit shaken by the looks of it, after the explosion which adjusted not only their living arrangements, but also John’s priorities.
45. Eclipse
It wasn’t necessary the fascination of the Sun being swallowed by the shadow, nor was it the sudden silence when there was night in the middle of the day, but the pale, nigh see-through complexion of Sherlock’s skin which made John itch to touch, yet afraid that the magic would dissipate, the man looking so fragile he might crumble into shards of pure crystal from the faintest touch, so John did not.
46. Gravity
The sheer gravity of the words unspoken made the air pregnant with heavy breath and soundless groans, only touch giving away the depth which was held in the hands of a lover, as they roamed over the sheen of sweat on John’s chest, asking, as well as answering, and receiving more than he didn’t even know he wanted.
47. Highway
Sherlock actually drove a car.
48. Hands
Killing hands, saving hands, doctor’s hands, the hands of a man seen more than should be right in the world, in the hands of another, seen closer, clearly, logically throughout his whole life, fingers folding over to hold hard as if never letting go, bringing forth the perfect balance of need and understanding.
49. Lock
Sheepishly, Sherlock stood next to John’s bed in the small hours of the night, holding in his hand a gun, scratching his temple, looking lost and bewildered, remembering only picking the lock of John’s desk before realizing with a joyous relief, that John was now safe, in the hospital, and Sherlock, really, profoundly, needed a cigarette.
50. Breathe
Mere gasps escaped through Sherlock’s lips as he begged for John to thrust harder, deeper, as if to engulf the man and keep him there for the rest of their lives, his cock leaking on the bed sheets in time of the needy twitches, and the breath Sherlock took when John wrapped his fingers around Sherlock’s arousal, was all it took to brush the world away.