yup yup yup!! :D
So if you are looking for happy johnlock stuff you are safe with meee!! :3
brilliantheart.tumblr.com/tagged/johnlock fanfiction
I just finished writing the next chapter of His Lips Tremble Still! I can’t believe I’m finally done and I just want to have a small party alone in my apartment (party = huge glass of red wine). I still have a lot of editing and self beta’ing to do, so I’m not entirely done yet, but the next part will be posted tomorrow at the latest.
Thanks for all your support, I really appreciate it. In the meantime, here’s a preview in GIF format of what’s to come in the next chapter.
“John.”
..
“John?”
…
“John!!!”
…
John was busy. He was reading a magazine which he found lying on the staircase. Mrs. Hudson probably forgot it there earlier when she was going through her morning mail. He thought he could take a look, just a glimpse, to see if there’s anything interesting. He came across a rather interesting quiz - that kind of quiz which by answering “What ice-cream flavour is your favourite?” tells you if you have predispositions to be a mass murderer. Anyway, this quiz was called “Do you take a good care of your pet?”
Well, this could be fun. I’ll just replace “pet” with “Sherlock” and see the result. John was amused by that thought. However he was also painfully aware of the fact that Sherlock is bored. Again. No matter how hard John tried to ignore him and his whining - when Sherlock Holmes is bored, you better do something about it before he takes over the matter himself and shoots a bloody heart into your door.
John was just answering the question “What kind of food do you feed your pet?”, deciding between “the best quality” or “homemade food, prepared with love”. That love bit didn’t really fit, certainly not now, when Sherlock’s been babbling over five minutes straight.
“John. John look at me. John look! John! Look! Look at me! John! John!!!”
Sigh.
John raised his head with resignation. “What?”
Sherlock was still in his pyjamas, wearing his shirt inside out, wrapped in the blue silky dressing gown. There was a plate in front of him on the table, filled with spaghetti Bolognese, or rather what’s left of it. It was an experiment, John’s experiment, he was wondering whether he’s able to take care of himself without a constant help of women. Or, simply put, without the constant help of Mrs. Hudson. His effort was however put in vain as Sherlock thought up a different plan how to deal with John’s dish. The spaghetti were hanging out of Sherlock’s mouth making him look like a semi human semi octopus creature with bloody beard, as the red sauce was dripping all over the table and Sherlock’s trousers. Sherlock raised his hands and revealed another part of his rather random disguise. The meat balls, the amazingly beautiful and perfectly shaped meat balls that took over 30 minutes to form, were pierced one by one on each Sherlock’s finger. Sherlock quickly moved his fingers causing the sauce to splatter John’s shoes.
“Look John. I’m a sea monster.”
If needed, part 2 will be on its way!
Title: walk through ghosts
Author: augustbird
Word Count: 6125
Rating: M
Summary: The thing is: Sherlock thought that the two of them would have forever to figure it out.
Oh hey, are you looking to have your heart crushed? Then I have the fic for you! This is sad but lovely.
London’s lights. The lights of a city that is me.
This big breathing organism is my mind which races, millions of voices talking across each other, billions of thoughts flashing in midnight heat.
The dark alleys are my veins through which people are floating like blood, each one with his own life and pulse.
Crimes are like a drug, it gushes through my body and contaminates my blood, makes it silent and dead, and my mind becomes quiet und enjoys the emptiness of the alleys.
And deep inside London, under smoke and lights, there is 221b Bakerstreet, my heart, filled with files and smells and names and emotions. (And John Watson is my pulse)
(Leaving things undone - A Sherlock Fanfiction in which John must leave Bakerstreet. And Sherlock don’t want him to.)
I have a huge test on Tuesday, almost haven’t studied. My brain asks: good time to write the second part of the fic? And it answers itself: Yes, of course.
My brain is a fucking asshole.
Sorry I haven’t updated in a while, I’ve been re-reading stories and also watching Supernatural (I fucking love it) and I can’t be bothered searching for new fanfics. If you have any stories you think I should read, submit them here please (X) :)
Rating: PG-13
Classifications: Drug Use
Rank: A
He can only fight a craving like this for so long.
http://archiveofourown.org/works/262470#main
Here’s a textbook example of a good drug-related Sherlock piece. It’s impartial and not too preachy, and still creates an air of genuine concern. Beautiful imagery is coupled with a sense of grit and chirascuro, and finally, it’s all brought home to love on Baker Street. (Let us also take a moment to fully appreciate people who can draw really, really well.)
P.S. To all the new followers: All my thanks for joining the ship’s crew. Enjoy!
The sound of the door opening that followed the quick knock seemed to surprise Gabriel less than it did Sandra, although he was reaching for his crutches before the door had shut again, pushing himself up with a practiced movement. He was between her and the corridor that led to the doorway, a subtle shift that she didn’t miss. She rose as well; a flicker of relief was followed by irritation when Sherlock Holmes strode into the living room.
“Forgive the intrusion.” His voice was as stiff as his posture, cold, giving nothing away. “I don’t have time to explain. Sandra, please go into Gabriel’s bedroom, shut the door, and stay there until I tell you it’s safe to come out.”
(Watch for this chapter early next week)
