[x]

WatchingHe is very active for a man who was supposed to be dead. In fact, he is, without a doubt, the most active dead person, except from Irene Adler. They text each other a couple of times, sharing their 'Everybody Thinks I'm Dead' stories.

He got bored very quick. He hated being stuck in the small room, and after the first time he had shot at the walls, Molly had taken the gun and thrown it away. He didn't have any cigarettes and he couldn't update his blog. All of his favourite activities had been taken away from him. Which was why he started pacing the floor often.

Finally, after three months, he got to go outside. He walked around in the sha

Believe me.Do you miss him?
No you don't. Not like I do. You didn't really watch him fall, did you? I did. I was right there, I could still hear his voice, I could still see him, and then... he was falling, flying, struggling, dying. Dead. I bet you bought into their lies, just for a moment. You sicken me.
I sicken myself.
But I believe now. I hope it's not too late.
He is alive. I know he is. He has to be. He's Sherlock.
Where are you..?
I know you can hear this, Sherlock. I know you care. I know you... you have some sort of plan. You always did. This is your battle, your game, your race.
I just hope I make it to the finish line.

Doesn't Follow Me EverywhereSummary: "He doesn't follow me everywhere, you know." ~John Watson, ASiB
Oh, silly Jawn... Of course he does (what with your penchant for getting kidnapped...)

"And the beans?"
"I'll get them."
Afterward, John says he doesn't remember what happened. He was walking to Sarah's then the next thing he knew he was in a changing cubicle at the pool and being told through an earpiece to go out and greet the detective. Any deviation from the words he's told to say would result in death.
But Sherlock can spot a lie when he sees one. John's always had one of those faces that seems to show every thought that passes through his head, but for once Sherl

Sherlock: Words Left Unsaid 5.0

If I hadn't been denying my body the very basic of needs for most of my life, I would have probably died living in the bunker hidden under the barren wasteland that was western Afghanistan. Living underground with no real source of light, a very minimal amount of army-issued food and one canteen full of unfiltered water was not an easy task and if my body wasn't used to such hostile conditions, I would have been dying by now.

I took refuge in the old bunker for four days because I needed to outlast the remainder of the storm without going back to the camp and I had to make sure that I gave the troop a decent amount of time to search for me,

DyingS/J

()()()

"I'm dying," John groaned as he staggered into the sitting room, arms clasped protectively around his middle.

"John?"

Sherlock leapt up after this very telling exclamation, abandoning whatever it was he'd been dissecting at the kitchen table, and seized him, hands quickly touching here, there, his face, his ribs, thin fingers combing through John's short hair.

This accomplished, and finding only hot dry skin and no obvious punctures, bumps, bombs or bullet wounds, then seeing John break into a vicious fit of coughing that left him in little doubt of what he was 'dying' of, Sherlock's face adopted a look of chilly hurt as he st

Letters From a Ghost An unopened, wrinkled envelope was placed in John's worn hands. "Read," the old man's voice was commanding, and John was too tired to argue. Had it been any other day, he would have run from the old man, seeking refuge in the empty apartment of Baker Street.

But it wasn't any other day. It was the third anniversary of Sherlock's suicide, and John just didn't have to strength to argue with this bent, haggard, and shriveled old man.

John,
John Watson. Dr. John H. Watson…John.

(the writing looked familiar; familiar to the point that tears formed in John's eyes)

I read it. The letter you wrote m

Deducing AttractionDeducing Attraction
A Sherlock fanfiction
SH/JW

Normally he'd be bored by now…
There hadn't been a proper case in weeks and it seemed that all the citizens of London had decided to be on their best behaviour just to spite him. Not even Moriarty had the decency to come out and play anymore and yet… Here he was, lying on the couch staring at the ceiling of 221B Bakerstreet. His hands clasped together under his chin in his 'thinking-pose' as John seemed to call it. He wasn't the least bit bored, how odd.

Well actually it was quite logical really, considering he'd had something to occupy his mind. What was odd however, was the obje

ExperimentSherlock was laying on the couch, presumably thinking, possibly asleep. John hardly ever had a chance to sit there himself, as Sherlock was always occupying it. John eyed him for a moment, and then something snapped and he decided to go ahead with the impulse he’d been secretly fighting. He came and stood over him minute before letting his knee rest next to Sherlock’s leg and leaning across with his arm on the back of the couch. Sherlock didn’t move, so he continued to climb on top of him.
“John, what are you doing?” Sherlock asked lazily without opening his eyes.
“Experiment,” he replied cheekily.
“Really?” Sherlock’s voice dripped sarcasm.
“You’re not the only one who does experiments on his flat-mate.” John said matter-of-factly, settling himself along Sherlock’s full length and letting his head come to rest over Sherlock’s heart a

Shwatsonlock- MoreJohn Watson found himself in his usual place, reading the paper- like always-, sipping coffee with no sugar- as he was accustomed to do-, but something felt like the day would be far from normal. Of course, living with Sherlock Holmes meant that normalcy was in itself strange and rare. These suspicions were confirmed when Sherlock staggered through the door, his face grazed badly, clothes torn and limping slightly. Upon seeing the consulting detective collapse onto the couch, John leapt to his feet, dropping the paper he'd been reading.

"Sherlock?!"
"Mm?"
"Wh-what happened?!"
"Calm down, John. It was nothing."

Sherlock sat up, but the pr

The Next Morning11:02
Ms Hudson is coming up. Should I tell her we no longer need two bedrooms?
SH

11:02
Go ahead. She's been waiting for us to become a couple since day one.
JW

11:05
John I think something is wrong with her!
SH

11:05
Why? What's going on?
JW

11:06
She's squealing. Rather loudly.
SH

11:07
Oh. Women do that. No big deal.
JW

11:07
But she sounds like an injured pig.
SH

11:08
Sherlock!
JW

11:08
It's true.
SH

11:09
I'm sure it is. Just don't tell her that.
JW

11:10
Too late.
SH

11:10
You're really rude you know.
JW

11:11
Doesn't seem to bother her. She's clapping her hands.
SH

11:11
I knew she'd be happy.

Very Lucky3:45
John where are you?
GL

3:46
At the clinic. Why?
JW

3:46
I think there's something wrong with Sherlock.
GL

3:47
What happened? Where are you?
JW

3:47
Calm down. Nothing like that.
GL

3:48
Oh. What's going on then?
JW

3:48
He just invited me to dinner.
GL

3:49
What?
JW

3:49
And called me Greg.
GL

3:50
Holy shit.
JW

3:50
That was my reaction too.
GL

3:51
I don't even know what to say.
JW

3:52
Neither did I.
GL

3:52
God, this is so bizarre.
JW

3:53
You're telling me.
GL

3:53
I wonder what's going on.
JW

3:54
Think it might be an experiment or something?
GL

3:54
Not likely. I doubt he'd lear

But I Can Save YouJohn slammed the door, an unusual thing for him considering how much he hated the sound and how it seemed to echo through the entire flat.
"Another row with a machine?" Sherlock asked, not looking up from the article he was writing ("Telling Time with Moisture's Effect on Wood") for his website on John's laptop.
John gave a heavy and irritated sigh. "No. Roll up your sleeves."
Sherlock only furrowed his eyebrows as he contemplated how to write a particular sentence so that even an idiot would understand it–barely processing John's words.
When he didn't respond, John strode over to the table he was sitting at and angrily grabbed Sherlock

Hot Showers"Sherlock? I'm more than willing to play along–seriously, by all means, keep going–but I have to ask–"
Sherlock merely purred and John had to shake his head a little to clear his thoughts. Though he certainly wasn't arguing with his current position–pinned against a wall underneath Sherlock–he was understandably confused.
"Are you feeling alright? I mean, I've only just–"
"Gotten out of a very hot shower. So hot in fact, that you didn't put on your robe, only a towel to cover your lower half."
"Well, yeah–"
"And so hot, that even a minute and 20 seconds later I can still see that your skin is red from where

Always Look at the Hands"Always look at the hands first, John."
That's what he had told him once. He didn't know if John had paid any attention to it, but it was one of his sure-fire methods of deduction. After observing one's hands, you were then to examine the cuffs of their clothing, their trousers, and then the trainers or boots.
One quiet night at Baker Street, John had been lying on the couch reading, but only after an hour or so had dozed off and the book had slumped onto his chest. Sherlock had come into the room, looking for something, but he lost the thought (a rare occurrence for him) when he saw John. Looking so peaceful. He knew that everyone looked pea

John's BirthdaySherlock lay on the couch, his hands steepled under his chin, thinking. Tomorrow was John's birthday. They should celebrate. But how? A few ideas came to mind. He could throw a party. No, he thought. Sherlock didn't like parties; they were to noisy, too many things happening all at once. A party was crossed out on his mental list. They could go to the cinema. No, they tried that once before when they went on a date and John got annoyed at him for predicting what would happen. They also got thrown out because he was being too loud. Cinema got crossed out. They could go out. No, they went out too often, it wouldn't be special. Going out was cro

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John! Get the Aspirin! (fanfic)

by ~ocean-crystal, Mar 19, 2012, 7:28:19 AM
Fan Art / Fan Fiction / General Fiction

Sherlock blearily blinked and grimaced, a headache tearing through his head.

"Oh Christ...." He tried to sit up, his white sheet slipping down his chest. Pressing the base of his palm to his forehead, he muttered "Never again." Frowning, he shouted out.

"JOHN! Get the aspirin!!"

He proceeded to realize an hour later that John was not home; not realizing how badly his flatmate's migraine was, he had gone on to the clinic. Instead of getting up to get his own aspirin, Sherlock proceeded to text John every 3.7 seconds (on average) to request aspirin and other drugs until John, fed up, came to help.

"Oh for god's sake Sherlock..." John barged into the room laden with bags. He turned around and Sherlock was standing unsteadily on his feet, sheet dropped about his ankles. John stared for a moment. "...please put some clothes on."

"No."

John sighed. "Then can you retrieve your sheet?"

"No. Head hurts."

"I bloody know that Sherlock...here..." He pressed two tablets into Sherlock's hand. "Take those."

Sherlock grunted a thanks. Snatching a glass of water from the table top, he swallowed the tablets, leaning on the side of the sofa for support.

"If you aren't going to put it back on yourself, at least... sit down or lie down or something, I'll toss it on you." Without a modicum of grace, the detective deliberately fell back onto the couch, a soft exhale escaping as his head hit his union jack pillow. He looked over at John, half challenging, half expectant. The shorter man sighed and set down the bags, then pulled the sheet from the floor and tossed it over Sherlock's lower half.

"Much better."

"Course it is. Have you really just been messaging me all day?" Sherlock gave a languid half-shrug, or the best he could in his current position. John just gave another sigh and opened his laptop.

"Don't you blog this," Sherlock warned from behind him. John smiled.

"You're too vain to let people know you're sick. I know."

"Good," Sherlock pressed his fingertips together and closed his eyes. "Also, if you could get my pillows an-"

"Don't take the piss. You're not that sick!" John looked over his shoulder at him, grinning. "I still have my laptop and the keyboard in front of me, don't tempt me!"

Sherlock started to laugh and grin, and John followed suit.

"Fine....fine..."

John! Get the Aspirin! (fanfic)by ~ocean-crystal

Fan Art / Fan Fiction / General Fiction

©2012-2013 ~ocean-crystal

This is actually a collab writing piece that came about with

when she kind of "replied" to my caption on this: [link]
:3

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~~neutral 0 0~~

!thehatbearer15 Mar 19, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

poor jawn, he can she sherly's slave sometimes..

Reply

~ocean-crystal Mar 21, 2012

I know. They can't be without each other

Reply

=littlemousemolly Mar 19, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Collaborative writing is fun.

I need to do it with people more often. xD

Reply

~ocean-crystal Mar 21, 2012

PICK MEEEE

Reply

=littlemousemolly Mar 21, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

GUUUUUURL
You are like, one of my top three people to RP/Collab with, no lie. XD I can't pick favorites among you three, though. I'm indecisive. XD

Reply

~ocean-crystal Mar 21, 2012

OH MY GOD I FEEL SPESHUL. <3

Reply

=littlemousemolly Mar 21, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

You should! :3 <3

Reply

Mood: Passionate

~mazijentes Mar 19, 2012 Hobbyist

This is wonderfull! I hace headache now, but I can feel it vanish

Reply

~ocean-crystal Mar 21, 2012

Haha, good! Thank you :3

Reply

~doctorwholover465 Mar 19, 2012

are you going to do more?

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