Just another WordPress site
I’m not sure what this fic is going to be yet, exactly, but here’s the start:
Sherlock winced as the gun blast echoed in the space. He glanced over to see John had moved his gun to a different target. But the men were dropping weapons now, the wounded one holding his arm. Sherlock’s phone was in his hand, already texting Lestrade. He couldn’t help but see the fear on their faces, the ice in John’s eyes. They were amateurs: John was not.
I’m working on a second chapter to that angsty thing I posted yesterday. Yes it’s a bit more then six:
But Greg cleared out his spare bedroom and a few nights a week John would show up on his doorstep. Sometimes Mycroft was there, more often he was not. They would sit on the sofa and watch telly until John couldn’t stay awake any longer, then go off to their separate beds.
John hardly slept, didn’t want the meds. Now instead of sand and desert his dreams were haunted by the terrible fall. If only he’d got there sooner. If only he’d said something different. Sometimes he dreamed it was Sherlock who pulled the trigger, put the bullet in his shoulder.
I’m working on the final chapter of my selkie fic:
John got up and moved to Sherlock. The selkie ran a hand through his hair as if counting the grays. John kissed him. “I’m not twenty-four anymore.”
“How old are you?”
“Fifty-two.”
final chapter of my selkie fic:
John woke early, slipping downstairs to the kitchen, tingling with excitement. It had been a rough couple weeks, Hamish home again after another injury, this one worse than before. But he was getting stronger by the day. Today Sherlock would be here. They’d talked to Barbara about it, and he hoped she’d take it as well as Hamish had at the same age. And the war felt like it was wrapping up as well.
Six sentences of a fic I’m working. I’m writing something for red pants Monday right now:
“This is utterly ridiculous,” said John, staring at himself in the mirror. The lacy red panties cupped his arse as the high cut accentuated his hips.
“It’s for a case,” called Sherlock from the next room. With a sigh John picked up the matching red bra and got it on. He tugged the dress over his head and went back to the mirror, uncertain as he settled the blonde wig on his head.
….yes I am writing cross dressing johnlock, why do you ask?
Six Sentences from a work in progress. I’m currently writing something for red pants Monday:
“And I’m wearing something I thought you’d like.”
Pushing John up, Sherlock went for his belt. He moaned again as he got John’s flys open. “Red?”
Grinning now, John got up just long enough to peel off his jeans, revealing the red pants he was wearing underneath. It was worth it for the look of naked lust on Sherlock’s face
Each Sunday, post six lines from an unfinished fic
Sure, this is what I’m working on right now. It’s a Jack/Castiel chapter from the Rodeo AU (superwood:now with more bull). Yes i realize the first sentence is terrible:
Jack adjusted himself in the saddle, feeling the heaving beast quivering beneath him. He took a deep breath, steadying himself before signaling his readiness.
The gate came open and it was all Jack could do to hold on as the bull arched and twisted, trying to throw off the rider. Jack could only hear the sounds of the bull, could see nothing but the creature beneath him. His heart thumped against his chest as adrenaline pumped in his veins. Faintly, he heard the buzzer sound just as he lost his grip, thrown violently to the ground.