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I wanted to write stitchlock a birthday fic and asked her for ideas. She suggested getting florid about John Watson’s eyelashes. So that turned into this:

At My Most Beautiful – Sherlock loves to simply watch John in the early morning light. Sometimes it becomes something more.

teaser below the cut

I lean against the doorway to our room, watching my lover sleep. A faint smile creases my features and there is a warmth in my heart. John always looks small in the early morning light. Awake, John is dynamic. He fills a room, or at least my mind, in a way most would never expect. And although here he looks less than imposing, underestimating John Watson is dangerous. I would know. He sleeps on his back, one arm tossed above his head. Though we had been intimate before falling asleep, sometime in the night he’d pulled on one of his undershirts, hiding his body from me. He is as self-conscious about his scars as I am of mine.

I turn my attention to what skin I can see and study his face. He is relaxed, softened. Unbothered by the nightmares that frequent us both. The steel blue eyes are hidden, golden lashes laying thickly on his cheek. He shifts as if aware of my gaze, eyes fluttering a moment before settling again. I cross the room and slip into bed beside him, sitting against the headboard as I resume my study of his careworn face.

An eyelash has fallen loose. I capture it and consider the way the light reflects the golden tones. Transfixed, I don’t realize he’s awoken until he speaks.

continue on AO3

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queersherlockian:

i desperately want an exasperated Lestrade when John and Sherlock let him in on the fact that they’re a couple, like, “FIIIIIIINALLY GEEZE WHAT TOOK YOU TWO SO BLOODY LONG TO FIGURE THIS OUT?  WE’VE KNOWN FOR LITERALLY YEARS!!!!!! Alright lads, who had 4 years? Sally? Oh well done, mate!” 

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Have a good Red Pants Monday. Here’s some short red pants shower sex:

Shower Surprise – “I saw them when you put your gun away. Do you know how it looks to see you handle your gun in those jeans with that flash of red pants? What it does to me?”

teaser below the cut

John was used to Sherlock’s sex drive. Or lack of. It didn’t bother him. When he was on a case he could hardly be bothered to eat or sleep, let alone any other activity. If it was too long between cases boredom made him apathetic and more likely to sulk on the couch all day then anything else. It was just another part of the man, and like everything else, John simply accepted him for who he was.

They’d been on a case all night and John was yawning as they stumbled back into the flat. Sherlock immediately went to John’s laptop. There was more work to do, but John needed a shower and at least a couple hours of sleep. He stepped into the bathroom and turned on the hot water, stripping and stepping under the stream, rubbing the scruff on his face.

Sherlock had been at his best form tonight, spouting off deductions as he led the way through rain-spattered streets. They hadn’t found the perpetrator yet, but John had no doubts that they would. Thinking of Sherlock standing pale under streetlights, dark hair shadowing his face was certainly not making him more tired. John dropped a hand to his cock, thinking of Sherlock’s voice as he worked, the way his long fingers pointed and gathered facts. How his touch could pull back a curtain to things John had only imagined.

That last thought wasn’t only about the case.

continue on AO3

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rebootingcheesecake:

So I’ve been rewatching the entire series while taking note of John’s hand tremors and then I came to this scene

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We can see his right hand clenching in reaction to Sherlock’s offer for a handshake. But the thing is, that’s not the tremor hand. That’s not the hand that would start to shake whenever he’s feeling weak, helpless, vulnerable. The tremor always happens in his left hand, as Mycroft would confirm:

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I do love the right-hand clench. It’s an understandable reaction; that hand is going to touch his beloved’s for possibly the last time in his life. But it’s not what I’ve specifically been looking out for. I’m looking for the hand that trembles when he’s reminded of how much war had changed him,

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the hand that trembles as he’s begging for his best friend to not be dead,

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and the hand that trembles when he has to confront the lies of the woman he’d made his wife.

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It’s a shame we can’t see his left hand when Sherlock offers that final handshake. Like if it starts acting up and is shaking like crazy we wouldn’t know because it’s hidden from vie-OH WAIT NEVERMIND I DID SEE IT

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Conclusions: Martin Freeman’s acting is fucking ridiculous, and the tarmac scene can go straight to hell

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Is Sherlock Watson good enough for you?

iamjohnlocked4life:

couldntpossiblycomment:

I just realized that in this godforsaken scene:

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When Sherlock says “I think it could work”

He’s saying ”I think the name Sherlock Watson could work”

And then John, still laughing, realizes what he just heard and does a sort of puzzled look back up at Sherlock:

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And Sherlock just:

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And in conclusion, we’re not exactly looking at an aborted declaration of love.

Oh god, this hurts so good. I can’t stop feeling over this (>_<)
♥♥♥

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janto321:

Hope in the Darkness (1748 words) by janto321
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Sherlock (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mycroft Holmes
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Injury, First Kiss, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Watching, Post-His Last Vow
Summary:

Sometimes nearly losing makes you realize what you have.

Feels like way too long since I posted something.

teaser below the cut

It was bound to happen sooner or later. And of course it was late on a rainy London night. John groaned as Sherlock hovered over him, rain dripping from his flattened curls, hands fluttering and panic in his eyes.

“Put pressure on it and call an ambulance.” John was calm; one of them had to be.

“I’m sorry…” Sherlock started.

“Shut up,” snapped John, biting back a wince as Sherlock used his scarf to try and stop the bleeding. It was all too much like sgt, only John was the one that was hurt. The suspect was unconscious a few feet away, only the fact that John was in need of attention had saved his life.

Sherlock fumbled with his mobile as he tried to keep pressure like John had taught him. The doctor focused on breathing slowly, watching him and listening as he called the ambulance. “Don’t forget our suspect,” reminded John.

Shutting off his phone, Sherlock turned back to his Doctor. Their hands found one another in the dark and John relaxed in his grip. “It’ll be okay.”

Sherlock gave wry smile. “Shouldn’t I be reassuring you?”

“Well, I’ve had more practice.” John adjusted the hand providing pressure before looking back up at Sherlock’s eyes. “I’m a free man now, you know. The divorce was finalized two weeks ago.”

“I am aware.” The hand in his trembled slightly. John squeezed as the sound of sirens split the night.

“They’ll probably keep me overnight, but it’s not that bad a wound. I should be back in Baker Street tomorrow.” Sherlock started to pull his hand away at the sound of rushing feet, but John held him in place, holding his eyes. “I don’t think we still need two rooms.”