It started out innocently enough, as most traditions do. John had been working on a crossword puzzle in the Guardian one morning, a piece of jam toast in one hand and a pencil between his teeth. Sherlock was in the kitchen/laboratory, analyzing various chemicals and their effects on human tongues.
"A steep slope along a line of cliffs. Five letters ending in p," John muttered around the pencil.
"Scarp."
"Hmm?" John took the pencil out of his mouth and turned around to face the kitchen.
"A steep slope along a line of cliffs is called a scarp," Sherlock said without taking his eyes off the test tube in his hands.
"Didn't realize you were l
When Sherlock found the first flower, for some strange reason, he thought The Black Lotus was back. But no. The small, delicate paper lotus was made of plain old newspaper, not black craft paper. It was perfectly folded, every crease in exactly the correct place. And Sherlock had no idea how. He picked the beautiful thing off the arm of the couch and placed it gently in the palm of his hand to get a closer look. How on earth was that created? He turned it around delicately in his hand, careful not to squash the perfect petals. A scientist would unfold the origami flower, to see how it was made. But Sherlock couldn't bring himself to destroy s
"Care to make a guess?"
"Hm...Your mind is ingenious and you learn easily."
Long fingers cracked the cookie open.
"Well?"
"...You have a sense of the dramatic and a tendency towards display."
John sniggered.
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing. Predict mine?" Sherlock sighed.
"Plan to be spontaneous tomorrow." John split his cookie.
"You tend to draw out the love in others." John snorted and tried to hold in his giggles.
"Really, John. What is so amusing?"
"Oh. Um. It's quite childish, really. When we were kids, me and Harry used to think the words 'in bed' after every fortune cookie. See which ones were the funniest."
Title: Must Be Mad
Author: Squilfy
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Rating: Mild T (13+)
Words: 1,563
Summary: There are some things none of us understand. Things like falling in love with Sherlock Holmes.
Warnings: Slash. May trigger intense periods of crying over the cruelty of the BBC.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. If I did, the series finale would certainly not have involved John Watson's heart breaking into a million tiny pieces.
Notes: This is kind of part of a series of fics (Must Be Mad, More Than I Am, Lovers of the Lost, and Of Course, Of Course.) They can be read as a series, or as stand-alone stories.
Must Be
This Melody Was Meant For You by lemo-smith, literature
Literature
This Melody Was Meant For You
John steps on the bus feeling empty, more so past the point where he can still ignore the feeling. He's already forgotten what not-empty feels like. His soggy coat drips onto the floor of the bus; he'd forgotten his spare umbrella at the clinic and had to settle for his very absorbent coat and a small cap. The very cat that had him dubbed "Robin" alongside "Hatman".
It's been three years since that day.
He looks around the bus and is greeted with the sight of young couples snogging each other senseless and old couples smiling indulgently. Three years ago, he would have scowled at them all and cursed the heavens for allowing time to go on.
A Gift from Mycroft by Papavia-Lorraine97, literature
Literature
A Gift from Mycroft
The doorbell rang. I went to stand, but Mary stopped me.
"It's ok," she said, "I'll get it. You stay here and finish that toast before it gets cold."
I smiled at her. "Thanks, sweetheart." I knew I was lucky to have found Mary. Staying in Baker Street after what happened was unbearable. It felt so empty. Then I met her by chance at the surgery, and because of her I could feel a little bit more whole again.
"John, there's someone here who wants to see you. It's important apparently." Mary called.
I frowned. Not many of my friends had been told that I'd moved, and those who did wouldn't waste their time and visit without letting me know if
SherlockxJohn After Reichenbach by YaoiFanFictioner07, literature
Literature
SherlockxJohn After Reichenbach
*fluff warning*
I snuck back into my room at night to grab a couple things for my disappearance but stopped in my tracks. John was laying in my bed, sleeping soundly. I paused for a moment to see if he would wake up but he didn't, lucky for me. I went over and sat on the edge of the bed and looked into his face. He had obviously been crying as his cheek was wet and his breathing came in shudders. 'I can't believe my death hurt him this much ' I wanted so badly to tell him I was alive and well but it would put him in danger, I couldn't do that to the one I love.
Completel