afghanistan!john

MY JOHNLOCK FIC REC LIST
  1. Absolutely all of these fics have happy endings. I can’t read hardcore angst or I’ll die. I mean it. 
  2. If there are any other relationships in these fics then it’ll be minor but Johnlock is def front and center and endgame for all of them.
  3. I’ve avoided reccing the really famous Johnlock fics. I love them but all these fics need more love cause they’re all so amazing! 
  4. 99% of these fics are bottomlock but since I don’t care who bottoms or who tops (as long as they fuck and as long as they are in character) (that means no DFP Sherlock) (or Baby Princess John) so if you have a problem with toplock in general, tread carefully.
  5. All of these fics are from AO3. 
  6. Also please excuse my crappy summaries.
  7. Be sure to read all the tags before reading!


EXPLICIT 

  • The Dialogue of John and Sherlock Series by cwb - Sherlock decides that he and John are in a romantic relationship. John tries to educate Sherlock on what that actually means. (this is the cutest, Sherlock is literally hopeless)
  • The Bachelors’ Handfasting by jurgbury - 1800s Scotland where younger Sherlock and older John are in an arranged marriage. (John is so fucking hot in this I want to die)
  • Thirteen Dances (Or, The Doctor Dances) by Knackorcraft - John can dance!!!
  • Hellfire by testosterone_tea - Magical Realism! John is a Berserker (powerful fire monster thing that’s supposed to be extinct) and is believed to be a threat to the country and Mycroft wants him held captive so of course Mage Sherlock is like NO.
  • Bury the Bells by unknownsister - Parade’s End AU. 
  • The Kepler Problem by kinklock - Alienlock and space-explorer/worker/maintainer/something John! (all of Kinklock’s fics are awesome af really)
  • The High Tide Series by stardust_made - A rich arse of a bloke tries to woo a clueless John and Sherlock just about loses his mind I LOVE JEALOUS SHERLOCK (The first story is rated T but the other two are E so…) (my fave)
  • The Haunting of Sherlock Holmes by MapleleafCameo - Sherlock investigates a 60 year old disappearance in the countryside and gets a shock along the way. (Not angsty, don’t worry)
  • The Life that is Waiting For by Youameliakaleigh - Sherlock is the son of a Goddess (so basically a demigod) and John is his trusty guardian/teacher/person/Sun sentinel okay just read!
  • Neighbours by thelookyouredoingthelookagain - John moves into 22IC and Sherlock is very silly, as he always is. 
  • Irrational and Sentimental Series by apliddell - Post S3 lovely Johnlock sweetness.
  • Intimacy Series by sussexbound (SamanthaLenore) - Love confessions and then smut! (First story is T later story is E) 
  • Never Have I Ever by hudders-and-hiddles (huddersandhiddles) - The boys play Never Have I Ever with some of the Met and they get together cause John and Sherlock are so dumb that it takes alcohol and a truth game for them to realize that their feelings are REQUITED DAMN IT okay okay I’m sorry canon stresses me out.
  • First and Only by crimsonwinter - Babylock to Kidlock to Teenlock to Unilock, growing up with John. WIP
  • A Study in Movement by Supernova12 - Teen rugby John is working on an art project and needs to improve drawing movement so he draws teen ballet Sherlock. 
  • A Hard Day’s Night by 221Btls - John the Knight and Sherlock the peasant. WIP
  • To the Sticking Place by blueink3 - John and Sherlock as theatre actors, both acting as the main roles in a Hamlet production! WIP (I don’t know why this doesn’t get more love, this is the theatre version of Performance In A Leading Role!) (my fave) 
  • How Do You Know? by LaurieRoar - John having sex with Virgin Sherlock to see whether or not his claim that he doesn’t like sex is true. (my fave) (but I hardly ever see this recced) (super fucking hot)
  • Well Begun Is Half Done by Avice - Sherlock tryna seduce John but John’s like “Fuck that, let’s get down to it”. (Avice’s fics are severely underrated, they are all awesome)
  • Angel Hair Series by justacookieofacumberbatch (buffyholic) - Successful surgeon John and waiter Sherlock get it on wohoho. WIP
  • A Study in Sex Series by Castiel_For_King - John teaching Sherlock The Ways of Sex.
  • The City of Dreams Series by bittergreens - Lots of sex? Lol.
  • Spinning by Tispy-the-Minx (ComeAlongPond14) - Seventeen-year-old John is assigned to Sherlock’s care.
  • For you, there’s only me by shock_blanket - So much pining the boys are idiots I swear to God.
  • Six Degrees of Separation by testosterone_tea - Sherlock highkey wants to meet John but treats it all like a ridiculous experiment to stay cool, I could kill him, he’s so ridiculous. (testosterone_tea is awesome, their fics need more love)
  • Lovesick by distantstarlight - Sherlock getting sick and John taking care of him and also sex.
  • The Republic of Heaven by Blind_Author - His Dark Materials AU. WIP (okay so this is my fave out of all my faves but it hasn’t been updated in forever but I refuse to believe it’s been abandoned or else I’ll perish) (the fave)
  • Imaginary Pictures by crossroads - Teenlock falling in love with John. Loads of pining. (this needs more love)
  • In Care Of by quietasasleepingarmy -  John writes instructions for Sherlock’s ‘lover’ on how to care for him aka I hate them PLEASE DIE.
  • In A Changing Age by allonsys_girl -  Sherlock wakes up in the 19th century, with no idea how he got there aka I love them I’M GONNA DIE.
  • Pretending to Be by 221BJen (jcoz1701) - John is hired to track down Sherlock, who is an asset to The Centre, a secret agency.
  • The Wrong Wagon by DancingGrimm - Molly starts crushing on John instead of Sherlock when the doctor saved her life. Sherlock (aka the gay baby loser that I hate) notices and just about goes insane.
  • Angel With A Fiddle by Remy_Writes5 - Young soldier John meets violinist Sherlock at a carnival the day before he is to be deployed to Germany to serve in World War 1.
  • The Boffin and the Bachelor by starrysummernights - Uh… John and Sherlock getting together and there’s some fluff and some smut and a bit of angst? (Idk how to summarize this. Really good, though)
  • Fool For You by sheerrloockk - Poor clueless Sherlock proposes to John on April Fools’ Day by accident.
  • Operation Inked by QuinnAnderson - John has a tattoo and Sherlock makes it his mission to see it cause he dumb.
  • Discerning Tastes by Irrevocably_Sherlocked - Sherlock tries to get some good Scotch for Mycroft’s birthday but is faced with a hot, kilt-wearing John and practically loses all his genius because of it. (Irrevocably_Sherlocked’s fics need more attention cause they are the bombdotcom)
  • Lightning and Sea Glass by 221b_careful_what_you_wish_for - Frankenlock AU. (This is a bit angsty so watch out)
  • In Nomine by Atiki - Sherlock can only manage to say John’s name when they have sex. (Sherlock is too cute, I will perish)
  • See Recipe for Details by pandoras_chaos - John makes a list of things Sherlock likes to eat. (Reading this made me hungry. For food. Obvs)


MATURE

  • Tell it Like it is by testosterone_tea -  Sherlock and John go out to the pub with some of the officers from Scotland Yard and played some games while they’re at it. (This is fucking hilarious) 
  • The Semantics of Crop Circle Formation: a case study by Sherlock Holmes [unpublished] by canolacrush - John and Sherlock are investigating a weird extraterrestrial-like case but for once, John knows more about it than Sherlock does wink wink read it! (my fave) (this needs heaps more love wtf!!!)
  • My Life Had Stood A Loaded Gun by HeartOfTheMirror - Magical Realism! John is a Healer. (I hate Mycroft in this)
  • Aparecium by 1electricpirate - Potterlock! Sherlock is a Muggle but John isn’t. WIP
  • Enigma by khorazir - The Imitation Game-esque fic. WIP
  • Splatter Patterns by beezee - John is an artist and Sherlock is an art critic.
  • Apprehension by BashfulBunny (Aequoreavictoria) - John is hired to kidnap Sherlock but things go awry obvs. WIP
  • Captains of Industry series by 221b_hound - John is a hot barista and Sherlock is, of course, a fumbling mess. (This series is awesome, the whole gang is here, working close by.)
  • where the good things grow by anchors - Sherlock has a magic garden he uses to brew tea and John has a tea shop. (This fic is so sweettttt and deserves more love)
  • Down with this Ship by FrostedFlame (PinkOrchid) - Sherlock takes John to a gay bar expecting him to be uncomfortable but BAM John the Raging Bisexual comes out to play and shocks the fuck out of the detective.
  • The Thin Line by Odamaki - Sherlock and John in a super snug closet  and John gets a raging boner lolllllllll.
  • The Frost Child by twistedthicket1 - Everyone have gifts and John keeps his a secret but Sherlock finds out. (my fave)
  • Dawn Before the Rest of the World Series by PoppyAlexander - 1920s England, butler Sherlock and gardener John. (John is so romantic in this, I want to cry)
  • Dreamer by MagdaTheMagpie - After Afghanistan, John keeps dreaming about Sherlock dying and does everything he can to stop it. (my fave)
  • ROT-13 by berlynn_wohl -  John the spaceman crashes his pod in Sherlock the alien’s planet where he meets Sherlock and fuck it’s hilarious just read.
  • Don’t Underestimate John Watson by BakerTumblings - John is offered the role of Lester Nygaard in Fargo and basically never underestimate him, for reals.
  • Brother Mine by annabagnell - Parentlock and MPreg! Sherlock gives birth to a baby much to the impatience and delight of excited big sister Michaela (This is so sweet)
  • Care of Magical Creatures by stillaseeker - Some Potterlock domestic cuteness and hilarity. 
  • Ink and Honour Series by moonblossom - 1800s. Mrs. Hudson takes in young Captain John Watson who was injured in the Napoleonic wars alongside her young ward Sherlock. (first story is M but the ratings after that are all over the place so read tags) 


TEEN AND UP AUDIENCES 

  • Love or What You Will by miss_frankenstein - John is an English professor and Sherlock is a PhD student assigned to be his TA. (I just… I love this one so much… I will die) (my fave) (this fic introduced me to my favourite poem, Sylvia Plath’s Mad Girl’s Love Song)
  • Bookshop Series by alivingfire - John meets Sherlock at a bookshop.
  • The Master of Latham Hall by Kryptaria - John and Sherlock investigates murders at Latham Hall and is in for a bit of a shock. (A bit of angst but not in regards to John and Sherlock) (I love you. I will always love you. God, I die every time)
  • A Haunted House series by cassyl - Major Character Deaths but not angsty. (Can’t say anything more cause spoilers but seriously, don’t worry, just read)
  • Once Upon a Beast Becoming by antietamfalls - Sherlock is an ancient being cursed by a Druid and John is the only person who can rid him of it. (loveeeeeeeee)
  • between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (huddersandhiddles) -  On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with a collection of writings they wrote about the other. (Sweet af)  
  • Deleted Files Series by oh_my_stars_and_sky - Every time Sherlock deletes something from his Mind Palace it shows up in John’s mind. WIP
  • Four Shots Series by Opy3332 - John works at a Starbucks at SIS Headquarters and meets Sherlock.
  • Quality of Life Series by cleflink - John has great healing powers! WIP
  • Truth or Consequences Series by Majela - John gives Sherlock a taste of his own medicine in regards to drugging people without their consent.
  • Witness Protection by missilemuse -  John used to be Jim’s fiance but he finds out about him being super evil and all and testifies against him. He meets Sherlock and ya know: lurve. (my fave)
  • The Red Dianthus by kinklock -  The boys investigate a mysterious disappearance in a supposedly haunted house, and get much more than they bargained for.  
  • Watch What They Photograph Series by Itsallfine - “If you want to learn what someone fears losing, watch what they photograph.” (First two stories are rated T the last is E)
  • A Different Kind of Complication by Atisenia - John, living alone in 221B, started getting letters addressed to Sherlock.
  • Without a Doubt by prettysailorsoldier - 1950s Teenlock.
  • The Strait of Juan de Fuca by mightypog - Post Reichenbach. John is distant from Sherlock even though he has forgiven him and Sherlock tries hard to fix their friendship.
  • Turbulence in the Sky by esplanade - Sherlock wants to tell John how he feels about him but he keeps spouting bullshit instead oh my poor child…
  • Affectionate Investment by MillieTheFreak - Sherlock and John feeding each other like it’s the most natural thing in the world I LOVE THEM
  • What Would Sherlock Do? Series by EinahSirro - John uses his deductive powers to find out if Sherlock reciprocates his romantic feelings and to seduce him! 


GENERAL AUDIENCES

  • The Contingency Plan by mightypog -  When Sally and Greg prevent Sherlock from committing suicide when he thinks John has been killed, Sherlock and Sally reconsider each other. (bit of angst, nothing heavy) (this is so real like this is exactly how canon Sherlock will react if anything happens to John) (my fave)
  • Evidence by JezebelGoldstone - Angry papa Lestrade comes bounding up to 221B demanding the return of all the evidence Sherlock stole so the detective tells the DI about some of the evidence so he’ll let him keep it. (Sherlock is amazingly sentimental in this, I love him)
  • And as the seasons change, I love you more by Teatrolley -  A year in the lives of John and Sherlock, essentially. (I will bawl my eyes out, this is so… just so! So much) (This isn’t rated so I’ll just put it under here) 


If I’ve mentioned your fic here and you want me to credit you or add a link to your Tumblr or anything like that, let me know! 

I’ll be updating this post regularly as more great fics will inevitably come along. And I’ll always be happy to rec specific fics to anyone and everyone! Just ask. I read Johnlock fanfic 24/7 every single day so might as well utilize it somehow. 

Strange Introductions (Sherlock x Reader)

WEDIM -Day Six

Sherlock x Reader

Word Count: 1404

Warnings: None 

Summary: After months of living in 221B you finally decide to introduce yourself to the consulting detective and his blogger upstairs. 

ENJOY!

For a girl my age, I knew an awful amount of stuff about everything. I was clever than everyone my age, could read people in an instant and could tell you within fifteen seconds who the father was on Jeremy Kyle. It wasn’t hard.

Most of my family thought I was a freak, they’d told me multiple times. I’d been to multiple psychiatry wards, been tested for every mental disorder under the sun but none of them were right. Psychosis, Schizophrenic, Bipolar, sociopathic, I could carry on, the list was nearly endless.

I was moved from school to school from age four to eighteen. Never fitting in, always outsmarting the teachers. It’s not my fault they can’t do their jobs correctly! I never had friends, only distracted me from what I liked doing best. Solving crime.

I was good at it, it helped people, I was happy. But apparently taking delight in serial murders is not something normal fourteen-year-olds do. No, I should be fawning over stupid boys, singing along to pop songs with my group of tweenage girlfriends and talking about how much I want to snog each member of One Direction.

Keep reading

  • John : *Enters in the lab at Bart's*
  • Sherlock : OMFG ! MIKE ! WHO DID YOU BRING ! MY FLATMATE !*I WANNA HUG YOU MIKE * ! CUTE ARMY DOCTOR !!! LOVES ADVENTURE ! KEEP HIM ! KEEP HIM ! KEEP HIM ! KEEP HIM ! IMPRESS ! IMPRESS! IMPRESS ! OMG HIS SMILE ! OMFG I AM MELTING ! FOCUS !!!! OMFG HE HAS TAN !! OMG MILITARY HAIRCUT ! KEEP HIM FOR GOD'S SAKE ! OMFG HE WAS WOUNDED !! *I WONDER HOW HIS SCAR FEELS* ! MMMMM ! FOCUS !!! IMPRESSSSS !!!!
  • Sherlock : ( Calmly ) Afghanistan or Iraq?
  • John : *OMFG so smart*
  • Sherlock : *MINE*

allroadsleadbacktobakerstreet-d  asked:

Angsty Sherlock headcanon coming your way: After the events of TFP Sherlock keeps on gaining more deleted memories from his childhood and starts to suffer from nightmares. Maybe one night John hears him screaming and goes to comfort him?

Er…so personally I think this is very bad, but I feel like you’ve waited long enough for your fill. 

In the Dark of the Night

Initially, John thought it was Rosie. A nightmare, maybe, or an earache - she’d had an infection the week before and her sobbing had kept him up all night, it was awful. But when he staggered over to Rosie’s cot she was asleep, her rosebud mouth curved in a tiny smile.

The sobbing doesn’t stop, though, and now that he thought about it, it didn’t sound like the unabashed wailing of a child. This was a shameful, muffled sobbing, the sound of someone who was trying their very best not to be heard.

John debated whether to make his way downstairs, but to his credit he didn’t actually debate very long before he found his way as quietly as possible down the creaky old stairs of 221B. The sobbing grew louder as he descended, occasionally interspersed with low whines like an animal caught in a trap.

“Oh, Sherlock,” he murmured as he took in the scene. Sherlock was scrunched into a ball on the couch, his face jammed into a pillow, his entire body shaking. He jerked when John spoke, and immediately sat up, trying to surreptitiously wipe his face on the sleeve of the dressing gown.

“John!” he said, pasting a smile on his face. From where John was standing, it mostly looked sick, and Sherlock’s mouth kept twitching. John had never seen Sherlock’s face so out of his control before. “Sorry, did I wake you?” he asked, and jerked to his feet. “I’ll just…” he waved his hand vaguely in the direction of his room. John did not miss that his other arm kept the pillow clutched across his midriff like a shield.

“No, it’s fine,” John said, and planted himself on the sofa. “Had a nightmare, won’t be getting back to sleep anyway.” It was a brazen lie, of course, but now Sherlock would feel compelled to offer comfort - it wasn’t as though John didn’t know how Sherlock’s brain worked by now. Sherlock sat down next to him, and they spent some time staring into the shadows of the living room.

“I used to dream of Afghanistan,” John says, and Sherlock looks at him from the corner of his eye, his fingers still digging into the couch pillow like it’s an anchor, or a lifeline.  “Before I met you. I’d wake up and I’d be crying, and I couldn’t stop. Not for hours. Some nights I was afraid to go to sleep.” He takes a breath, sighs it out. Sherlock doesn’t move. “Some nights I’d sit on my bed with my gun in my hand, and I’d…wonder. I’m still not sure if I would ever have gone through with it, but I wondered, sometimes. If…all this-” his gesture took in the world, his life, everything, “was really worth it.”

Sherlock sucks in a deep breath.

“What-” he stops, licks his lips. “What do you dream about now?”

John shrugs.

“It varies. Mary, Culverton Smith. Moriarty. Sometimes I dream about that damn cabby, even,” John says. “I’m always just too late. I dreamed of the morgue two weeks ago. Dreamed that nobody came in and stopped me.”

“You’d have stopped yourself,” Sherlock murmurs.

“Yeah maybe,” John says, but he’s not so sure.

They sit in silence for a while, watching the play of streetlights and headlights on the walls. It’s central London, there are always passing cars casting patterns into the flat. Even at fuck-off-o’clock on a Sunday.

They are quiet for so long that John almost jumps when Sherlock speaks.

“I killed a man in Tokyo,” he says. “He was one of Moriarty’s and he had information I needed. I…I had forgotten, until now. Well, until Eurus.”

John wants to ask how, wants to ask why, but he bites his lip and says nothing.

“I sliced off his eyelids,” Sherlock says in an eerie, distant voice. “I thought, if he could tell me what I needed to know, I could…he was strong, though. I could have admired him, if he hadn’t made it so much harder.” He holds out his hands in front of him and stares at them. They’re shaking like leaves. He clenches them into the pillow again. “I thought…I thought I could do it. I thought I could do it all and then come back, and there would be you, and-but. But now every time I close my eyes I see his face. He didn’t look human by the end. Just an animal in pain. I told myself it was mercy when I cut his throat.” The laugh sounds painful, jagged, a thing of edges and pain and bitterness. “I knew it was, in Serbia. In Serbia, god. I’d forgotten Serbia, too. Deleted it, locked it away. I’d have kissed the knife, then, if I’d thought it would free me. Just an animal in pain.”

John watches as Sherlock tilts his head back and swallows, but the tears are flowing free now, even though Sherlock’s face is completely blank.

Suddenly, he knows what to do. He turns sideways on the couch, reaches out, and pries Sherlock’s hand off the pillow to take it in both his own.

“You should go,” Sherlock says, but his long fingers are curling around John’s palm, giving the lie to his words. “You should take Rosie and…”

“No,” John says.

“I killed people,” Sherlock insists. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re an idiot,” John says, and yanks on Sherlock’s hand, hard, so that he falls over into his lap. He catches an elbow just left of his vulnerables for his trouble, but a moment later he has Sherlock - who has gone totally limp with surprise, tucked up against his chest, his curly head under John’s chin. “This man in Tokyo, you say he was one of Moriarty’s?”

Sherlock nods stiffly. His hands are moving restlessly, as though they’re not sure where to settle, but eventually one of them curls into the fabric of John’s t-shirt.

“He ran the Asian side of a human trafficking operation.”

“And did his information help you get home?” John asks, weaving one hand into Sherlock’s curly hair to stroke his scalp. Sherlock nods.

“Good,” John says. “Then I’m glad you killed him.”

Sherlock goes rigid in his arms.

“John, but-”

“No, I want you to listen to me for a moment, Sherlock,” John says quietly. “Will you do that for me?”

“Of course,” Sherlock says instantly, and John smiles into his hair.

"I’m glad that you killed him, Sherlock. I’m not happy that you had to do it, I know it cost you something, but I can’t say I’m sorry that you could. Because if killing that man was part of what brought you home, then I can’t say I’m sorry he’s dead.”

Sherlock tries to twist to look up at him and John lets him.

“You really mean that,” Sherlock says, quietly amazed.

“Of course I do, you idiot. Losing you is my worst nightmare, of course I’m glad you could come back, even if it took killing someone, even if it took killing a hundred someones.” Sherlock looks stunned, but John presses on. “And if, you know, we ever come across whoever put those scars on you…just say the word, Sherlock. I learned a thing or two in Afghanistan that I bet you don’t know.”

Sherlock huffs a strangled laugh and hides his face in John’s neck.

“No need,” he says. “Mycroft took care of them. I’m told the person who found the bodies is still in counselling.”

“Good,” John says, and strokes Sherlock’s hair softly. It feels as though they’ve crossed some kind of Rubicon here, like they’re finally moving again in the direction everyone in the world thought they were. He has his hand in Sherlock’s hair, and Sherlock is holding on to his shirt with both clenched fists. “That’s good. Now let’s try to get some sleep before Her Ladyship decides its time for breakfast.”

And they continue to lay there in the dark, the two of them. Silent but not alone, twisted but not broken, until dawn starts to light the sky over London.

John paused in his typing to look up at his flatmate across the sitting room. The telly was on, but the volume was turned down, so it was more of an ambient noise. Neither of them had been watching anyway. John had been typing up their latest case, while Sherlock had been sprawled in their armchair with his fingers steepled together underneath his chin.

It was disconcerting how quiet Sherlock had been since they had returned from Scotland Yard. He seemed to be staring at nothing, and the bluish-white glow coming from the telly danced eerily across his pale features. Even as John had been struggling with the right words to put on his blog, he had also been bracing himself for another of Sherlock’s dark moods following the close of another case. And even though John should’ve already been used to it, the way Sherlock had been watching him closely for the past several minutes still gave John an uneasy feeling, like he was another one of those organisms being placed on a glass slide and examined under Sherlock’s microscope.

He wondered what was occupying Sherlock’s mind at the moment for him to be so deep in thought. And he wondered what Sherlock was deducing about him now. As he ducked his head to return to his writing, however, it was then that Sherlock finally decided to break his silence.

“Why do you always follow me?”

John’s fingers froze over the keyboard. Slowly, he raised his head to meet Sherlock’s piercing eyes. “Would you care to be more specific than that?” John frowned as his gaze settled on the bandages circling Sherlock’s left hand. “How’s your wrist?”

“The swelling has reduced considerably. I’ve been keeping it elevated above my heart like you’ve said. Why do you always follow me? Why do you always go where I go, even when I don’t ask you to?”

Of course Sherlock would be as direct and blunt in this as he was in everything else. John rubbed his eyebrows tiredly. He carefully saved his blog entry for him to edit later and closed his laptop to give Sherlock his full attention. “What brought this on, Sherlock?” he asked gently. “Why are you suddenly asking me this?”

“You don’t answer a question with another question.” Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “You’re deflecting.”

“And you’re being irrational.” John pursed his lips. “Is this about last night? Did you not want me to be there?”

“What I want is irrelevant,” Sherlock said curtly. “You could’ve been shot. Again.

“And you could’ve broken something worse than your wrist,” John snapped. “You jumped out of a window, for Christ’s sake!”

“I wouldn’t have needed to if you hadn’t been there to be an easy target!” Sherlock shot back.

John inhaled sharply, and Sherlock clamped his mouth shut.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” John said quietly, his voice suddenly made of steel.

Sherlock glared at him for a few more seconds before he resolutely turned his head to stare broodingly out the window. John pressed his lips together indignantly before he reached for the remote and turned off the television. Dimly he noted that his left hand was steady as it slowly replaced the remote on the table. Then with a deep breath, he turned his attention back to Sherlock and silently waited for the storm to pass.

He didn’t have long to wait. “Did it ever occur to you, John,” said Sherlock, “That it might be wrong for you to follow me?”

John narrowed his eyes in apprehension. The anger and the hurt were still simmering low in his gut, but he could feel his pulse quickening with worry. “Why are you saying this, Sherlock?”

“Because I don’t always know.”

And it was this simple, quiet admission that stole the breath out of John. “What?

Slowly, Sherlock turned to face him again. Sadness, frustration, doubt, and self-pity were all warring within his grey gaze. “I don’t always know what I’m doing, John. Sometimes it seems like I do, but I don’t. I really don’t. I don’t know everything all the time.”

And underneath it all, John realized with a jolt of surprise, was guilt.

“Of course you don’t, Sherlock, that’s not why I—”

“I can’t always anticipate what will happen next. I can’t always accurately predict what the next move should be. I don’t always know where we should go or what we should do or who we should trust.” John’s eyes were widening at the almost hysterical note Sherlock’s words were escalating to. “I don’t always know what’s right or what’s true and if you follow me all the time I might lead you to a mistake, John. Because sometimes I’m wrong and—”

Sherlock abruptly stopped to catch his breath, and John unconsciously inhaled along with him. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath along with Sherlock.

“And it might cost you your life,” Sherlock finished softly.

And there it was: the crux of the matter, the source of this ridiculously convoluted misunderstanding. Sherlock’s eyes were oddly bright and he turned away, blinking furiously.

“Sherlock, you self-righteous twat,” John whispered. “I don’t follow you because you’re right all the time. I follow you because—”

He felt his throat suddenly constrict, and he swallowed, unable to continue speaking.

The chain felt heavy against his chest.

“Because what, John?” Sherlock quietly asked.

He turned at the sound of a clinking chain, unnaturally loud in the quiet that descended upon the room. Sherlock blinked as he realized that John had loosened his shirt at the collar and was clutching at the end of a chain that dangled from his neck. John caught his inquisitive gaze and smiled at him tentatively.

“Do you know what this is?” John asked.

“Yes,” answered Sherlock, before he hesitantly added, “It’s your dog tag from your days in Afghanistan.”

He watched as John stared at it with an unreadable expression on his face. “Did you know I was still wearing it?”

“I’ve… always suspected,” Sherlock began slowly, “but you always wore your shirts buttoned up to the collar, so I never really had proof.” He straightened in his seat and let his hands fold delicately onto his lap. “Until now.”

John’s gaze rose to steadily meet his. “Do you know what it’s for?”

Sherlock took his time in answering, suddenly wary of the direction the conversation was heading. “It’s worn by military personnel, required at all times especially while on the field,” he said. When John remained silent, and seemed to wait for him to continue, Sherlock took a deep breath before he elaborated. “It contains the bearer’s basic medical information, such as blood type and history of inoculations, as well as the bearer’s religious preferences. Its primary use is for identification of the dead or the wounded should they ever be left out in the battlefield.”

“And with these tags, the bodies can be properly treated or disposed,” John quietly added. He ran his fingers over the twin pendants. “If the bearer is killed, the second tag is collected for notification, and the first remains with the body for later identification. That is, if they even come back for it.”

Sherlock felt his chest suddenly tighten. “Why are you telling me this?”

John smiled at him, but there was no humor in his eyes. “You’re the genius, Sherlock. Why don’t you tell me the reason why I’m still wearing it?”

Sherlock frowned anxiously, but the intrigue of solving this puzzle – the enigmatic Dr. John Watson – proved too tempting to resist. He leaned forward in his seat and let his elbows rest on his knees as his steepled fingers touched his lips. He peered at John closely.

“It’s definitely not because of a fashion statement,” Sherlock declared. “It’s not exactly something you like putting on display for people to notice since you’ve been hiding it underneath your clothes all this time.”

The corners of John’s eyes crinkled in suppressed amusement, and he nodded for Sherlock to continue.

He cocked his head to one side, his eyes narrowed in deep thought. “And it’s not because of sentimental attachment either,” Sherlock said slowly. “You’ve been having nightmares about the war, and it’s not something you enjoy reliving.” This time, John’s eyes widened in surprise. “Some of these memories… are things you’d rather forget.”

Sherlock noted with satisfaction the way John’s jaw clenched and the way his fist tightened around the chain. He probably didn’t expect that Sherlock knew that much about him.

“But wearing that dog tag isn’t helping you forget these nightmares,” Sherlock mused. “So why not just discard it or put it away? Why hold on to it?”

John was silent. Sherlock watched him closely, determined to know the answer. Then his gaze flickered to the gun resting beside John’s laptop, and he breathed out, “Oh.”

John tilted his head. “Figured it out, then?”

Sherlock looked into John’s eyes. “It’s for security. Wearing it gives you a sense of comfort.” He glanced briefly at the silver pendants. “It somehow makes you feel… safer.”

John was looking at him as if he was expecting more. When it seemed that Sherlock was done speaking, John slowly let out the breath he had been holding and shook his head, a small smile on his lips.

“So close, Sherlock,” John murmured. “So very, very close… but not quite.”

Mesmerized, Sherlock watched as John rolled his neck and raised his fist above and around his head to remove the necklace. The chains clinked against each other as John dropped his arm, the tags clutched firmly in his left hand.

John’s eyes were a deep, dark blue as he opened his fingers and gazed at the engravings. Sherlock couldn’t help but notice that, under the dim light of their sitting room, John looked more tired and world-weary than ever.

“I was scared to be without this identification, Sherlock,” John finally admitted quietly. “That’s the simplest and most basic truth, summed up for your judgment. I was scared.”

Sherlock’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because,” John said softly, “I was scared I might disappear.”

Sherlock swore he literally felt and heard his mind grind to a halt. “What?”

Desperately, he tried to catch John’s gaze, but already John was somewhere far away, caught between a desert sun and a rain of bullets, a place where Sherlock had no hope of following.

“I went to join the war in Afghanistan because I wanted to be somebody. Not in the sense that I wanted fame or recognition, but… I wanted to be useful in this world. I don’t want to waste my life just standing by and doing nothing. I wanted to matter.”

His right hand reached over to clutch his left shoulder. “And then this happened, and I was sent back to London before I was done fighting, like some discarded piece of broken weaponry and—”

The chains rattled as John’s left hand trembled of its own accord.

“And then I was a nobody again,” John whispered. “I was a limping, wretched waste of space, whose hard-earned medical degree had been useless in curing the pain that didn’t even exist.

“John,” Sherlock interjected, and he inwardly cursed himself for being truly at a loss for words. Helpless, he could only watch as John curled his right hand over his left in an effort to control the tremors. John let out a shaky breath as he dropped his gaze and stared at the floor as he spoke.

“Did you know, Sherlock,” John murmured. “I used to stare at the walls of my old flat and think, ‘I could die here, and no one would even know. No one would even remember who I am, or what I did in my short, pathetic life.’”

And then suddenly, the gears clicked together in Sherlock’s mind, and the reason became glaringly, horrifyingly clear.

John,” Sherlock whispered.

“I figured if I’m wearing these tags when I die,” John said softly, “At least they’d know my name.”

Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat when John suddenly raised his head to smile at him. “You know, I think your brother figured me out even before you did, Sherlock. Hell, I think he knew even before I did.”

Sherlock frowned. “What does Mycroft have to do with anything?”

“He told me the truth,” John said simply. “‘When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield.’”

Sherlock’s brows creased. He had been watching John closely all this time, and after that strange pronouncement, he couldn’t understand why John looked so… at peace with it. “Because I always lead you to danger?” Sherlock asked tentatively. “Because I risk your life everyday when I ask you to follow me?”

John stared at him for a long moment. And then impossibly, against all reason, John’s smile widened. “You were right.”

“I was right.” Sherlock blinked. “Right about what?”

“You really don’t always know.” John was grinning now, and the change that overcame his previously solemn features was staggering. “So you better listen closely, because I’m going to tell you something I can’t believe you still don’t know.”

John stood up and walked to the center of the sitting room. “And I’m actually glad you asked, because I realized…”

And Sherlock could only gape in shock as John promptly dropped his dog tag in a carton box in the middle of the floor.

“I don’t need this anymore.”

Sherlock stared at the twin pieces of metal resting against his leather gloves. “Why?”

John straightened, his shoulders thrown back. His whole body felt suddenly, immeasurably lighter without the added weight around his neck. “Because your brother is right. I do see the battlefield in you. And you’re a war worth fighting for. Because regardless of what other people think of you, or what you think of yourself, you’re a good man, Sherlock Holmes. And I follow you,” John paused, reevaluated his words, and amended, “I choose to walk with you, beside you, because…”

He turned to face Sherlock fully.

“You’re my greatest victory. You’re the battle I’ve already won.”

Stormy grey eyes met a calm sea of blue as Sherlock swallowed and asked, “And what were you fighting against?”

And John’s weathered face broke into a gentle smile. “Being forgotten.”

The spell that had wrapped around them was suddenly broken by the jarring sound of a ringing phone. Both men stared at each other stupidly for a moment before John realized that the sound was coming from his own pocket. He reached inside his jacket and fumbled with his phone as he stared at the name flashing across the screen. “It’s one of my patients,” John muttered. “Hang on, Sherlock, I have to take this call, excuse me for a moment.” He stepped out into the hallway to answer.

Several minutes later, John hanged up, a worried frown creasing his forehead. “Sorry, Sherlock, but I think I have to head out tonight.” He replaced his phone back in his pocket and turned towards Sherlock.   “I have to go visit this patient of mine, he seems to be having complications with his… medication…”

John’s words trailed off. He stood in the hallway, transfixed, not trusting himself to speak, not even daring to breathe.

Sherlock was now standing in the middle of the sitting room, his body half-turned away from John. His head was bowed, and his unruly curls had fallen across his face, partially obscuring John’s view of his eyes. In his bandaged hand, he was clutching John’s dog tag.

And with agonizing slowness, Sherlock raised the twin pendants to his mouth and pressed his lips tenderly against them.

I’ll remember.” The words were murmured against the cold metal in an intimate caress, a solemn promise, a heartfelt truth. “I’ll remember.

theguardian.com
'It felt like the heavens were falling': Afghans reel from Moab impact
Locals describe the moment the ‘mother of all bombs’ was dropped, as critics question the wisdom of deploying the weapon
By Sune Engel Rasmussen

After his evening prayers, Mohammad Shahzadah closed the house gates and sat down for dinner. Then the blast came, engulfing the sky in flames and sending tremors through the ground.

“The earth felt like a boat in a storm,” Shahzadah said. “I thought my house was being bombed. Last year a drone strike targeted a house next to mine, but this time it felt like the heavens were falling. The children and women were very scared.”

The US dropped its largest non-nuclear bomb ever used in combat on eastern Afghanistan on Thursday in another dramatic show of military force by the Trump administration.

The GBU-43/B, colloquially known as the “mother of all bombs” or Moab, targeted tunnels and bunkers in Achin district in Nangarhar province, built by fighters loyal to Islamic State who also kept prisoners there.

A GPS-guided demolition bomb with an explosive yield equivalent to 11 tonnes of TNT, it explodes above ground with a radius of more than a mile.

The bomb was dropped in the mountains close to Moman village in an area called Asadkhel. About 1.5 miles away, in Shaddle Bazar where Shahzadah lives, the impact was palpable.

“My ears were deaf for a while. My windows and doors are broken. There are cracks in the walls,” he said.

The US military said it had killed 36 militants. The following morning around 9am, fighter jets strafed the area, a local police commander, Baaz Jan, said.

“We don’t know who was killed yesterday or this morning. But there is confusion and fear in the radio chats we are intercepting. There is limited communication among Isis fighters,” he said.

A local security official said they had requested a large strike because fighter jets and drones had failed to the destroy the tunnel complex.

The top US commander in Afghanistan, General John Nicholson, told reporters in Kabul that the decision to drop the bomb was made in Afghanistan, not in Washington, DC. “Since early March, we’ve been conducting offensive operations into southern Nangarhar,” Nicholson said. “However, this was the first time we encountered an extensive obstacle to our progress.”

Some observers, however, questioned the necessity of deploying a weapon of that scale against a group whose estimated 600 to 800 fighters pose only a limited threat to the Afghan state.

“There is no doubt that Isis are brutal and that they have committed atrocities against our people. But I don’t see why the bomb was dropped,” said the mayor of Achin, Naweed Shinwari. “It terrorised our people. My relatives thought the end of the world had come. Every day fighter jets, helicopters and drones are in the area.”

The US had sustained an air campaign to eradicate Isis in eastern Afghanistan for more than a year, and according to Borhan Osman, an Isis expert with the Afghanistan Analysts Network, it had already been effective.

“Isis was on the brink of losing their stronghold. It didn’t seem like there was a need for such a dramatic military measure,” he said.

Western security reports show that two days of regular airstrikes from 7 to 9 April killed 58 Isis militants.

“The greater threat to the government is the Taliban, but the US is fixated on this minor splinter group because, unlike the Taliban, the Isis group wants to destabilize the region,” said a western diplomat.

He speculated that the US was trying to send a message to countries in the region “that we’re all fighting the same enemy together”, but said the attack could erode US prestige among its allies.

“A basic tenet of international humanitarian law is the principle of distinction. You’re supposed to know what you’re hitting, and it’s not clear that any such targeting is possible with the Moab,” he said.

If the intention was to “shock and awe” Isis fighters and deter recruitment, Osman said he doubted it would be effective.

“Making such big news out of a small organisation, and countering this threat with such a huge measure could indeed make them look more attractive. One of the grounds on which Isis is building its recruitment drive is to say they are fighting the big enemy, the Americans.

“The more it can drive them to the battle, the more successful they are in recruiting anti-western radicals,” he said.

In an attempt to mock the US, an official Isis outlet, Khilafah News, distributed photos on the Telegram messaging app shortly after the bombing of its fighters supposedly continuing daily life in Achin.

The Taliban, who are rivals of Isis, condemned the attack, which the group called an act of “terrorism”.

The Kabul government praised the strike, but Afghanistan’s former president Hamid Karzai denounced it, as did Afghanistan’s envoy to Pakistan, Omar Zakhilwal. It was “reprehensible and counterproductive,” Zakhilwal said on Twitter.

Hours before Thursday’s bombing, the top US commander in Afghanistan, Gen John Nicholson, visited Nangarhar with the Afghan president’s national security adviser, minister of defence and intelligence chief.

The strike was closely coordinated with Afghan soldiers and special forces, and tribal elders had been informed to evacuate civilians, the district chief of Achin, Ismail Shinwari, said.

Sanat, a resident of Moman village, said he didn’t think any civilians were left in the area, but an MP from Nangarhar, Esmatullah Shinwari, said locals had told him a teacher and his young son had been killed.

As clearing operations continued into Friday, it was not possible to confirm casualties.

Donald Trump is not the first US president to bring heavy weapons down on Isis in Afghanistan. Last year, under Barack Obama, the US military deployed B-52s, which pack a payload three times greater than the Moab.

Javid Kohistani, a military analyst in Kabul, questioned the wisdom of such measures. “Isis has killed thousands of innocent Iraqis and Syrians. Why are they not dropping the bomb there? Why use it in Nangarhar?” he said.

To eradicate terrorism in Afghanistan, he said, the US should target the source of its finances and support. “The Trump government should put more pressure on Pakistan,” he said.

Johniarty Fanfiction Rec

All fanfiction here is completely consensual Johniarty. They do not all end happily, but they feature Jim and John being with each other without any of the commonly associated factors of this ship, such as Stockholm syndrome or rape. None of these break up John and Jim in favour for another relationship. Remember to check the tags on each fic for warnings.

Organized from shortest to longest (because that’s how I like opening fanfiction recs :P)

Mark My Skin (Make It Permanent) - Jim hates covering Sebastian’s appointments. He runs the parlor, but he doesn’t enjoy getting his hands dirty. Until one of Sebastian’s old army buddies comes in for a touch up, that is.

Write Truth On These Scars (Cause They’re Only Lies) - The first time they meet, John has perfect skin and a flawless smile. The next time, there’s scars over his entire body and closed lips.

99 Problems - When John is doing his weekly trip to Tesco, he gets an unexpected shopping buddy in the form of he world’s only Consulting Criminal.

The Hangover - A trip to Las Vegas combined with a lot of alcohol? Yes, even the brightest minds will fall. Nothing beats the morning after the party. The hangover.

Come About - Pirate life seemed to suit John, and serving under Captain Moriarty had its boons.

Knight, Burning Knight - "Bloody hell, Watson,“ Moran rasps. "What are you doing here?" "Strangely enough, that was what I wanted to ask you too,” John replies wryly, stretching his left arm out cautiously and taking a closer look at the other man. “Punctured lung?" Kidnapped during a case, John rescues himself and comes across an injured Sebastian Moran. Afterwards, Jim Moriarty changes his mind and decides that one John Watson isn’t as boring as he first seemed.

What Gets The Blood Going - After being shot, John Watson is honourably discharged and forced to return to London. Upon his return, he finds that he is missing something in his life: the excitement. He decides to take a buddy’s advice and become a blood donor for vampires in hopes that it will help. When he is rejected because of the shrapnel in his shoulder, which "taints” his blood, he decides to just make the best of the night. He isn’t expecting for any vampire to take an interest in him. Especially not one as interesting as Jim Moriarty.

Five Steps To Freedom - After being bitten in Maiwand, Afghanistan, John Watson is honourably discharged after presenting as an Omega. He is sent to the Centre, a location that keeps Omegas in order to properly pair them with a compatible Alpha through a five step process. For John, this place has become a prison. However, that is soon to all change for John when an Alpha finally decides to go through the process with him.

Miles Of Stars - The author has no summary, and while I could try to describe this fic, there frankly is no right way to put what it is in any other words than what has been written. Just trust me and read it.

Never Again - Jim knew in that moment that there was something more to his neighbors’ relationship. That maybe his limp had nothing to do with an old war wound and everything to do with something a lot fresher. A lot more domestic. AU

Toxicology - "The boxes were damn heavy, and John was tired of hauling them down the rickety flight of stairs to the street. The living room was dead silent when he passed by, but then, what did he expect?“ Sherlock breaks John’s heart. Moriarty is there to pick up the pieces and introduce John to the London criminal underground.

Dr And Mr Moriarty - John is Jim Moriarty’s husband… …and he is a perfectly ordinary bloke. Criminal activities don’t touch their relationship. Absolutely. They have an ordinary relationship and marriage. They are both happy - for a given value of happy, between a secret criminal mastermind and an ex-Army surgeon. Right? Sherlock Holmes is confused. Dr Moriarty is a psychopath, who’s happily married to Jim Watson. From the outside looking in, Dr Moriarty is the most interesting, most beguiling entity to grace him. They should be playing their great game… and Dr Moriarty shouldn’t be tied down to someone as plebian as Jim from IT… right?

Fully Operational - Customizable androids usually take twelve months to create. Jim Moriarty was willing to pay for his customized android to be fast tracked to merely eight months. Upon awakening, John Watson can tell something’s not quite right with his owner, but he doesn’t know exactly what or how to find out.

On The Orbits Of Asteroids - Watson has a secret from his past that he’s kept from Holmes, but the past has a tendency to come back and haunt you.

Here Comes The Sun - John Watson, reaped for the 67th Hunger Games, vows to himself and his sister, that he’ll make it back to district eight alive, no distractions allowed. Only problem is, he didn’t count on meeting Sherlock Holmes or Jim Moriarty.

Things That Start With M - John is lost in the monotony of mundane life, visiting Sherlock’s grave every week. Imagine his surprise when he meets someone there… A dark-haired genius who’s supposed to be dead. Oh no, it’s not who you’re thinking. Don’t be OBVIOUS, nothing is as it seems, and madness is like gravity… Like falling down a rabbit hole. Post-Reichenbach AU.

“How can John be having a birthday dinner? All his friends hate him. You only have to look at their faces. I wrote an essay on suppressed hatred in close proximity based entirely on his friends.”  Sherlock, Many Happy Returns

i think about this a lot. tbh i don’t think john’s Mystery Friends necessarily hate him. i think they just don’t know what to do with post-afghanistan john. 

post-afghanistan john, who suffers from veteran ptsd, who struggles with a lot of things but doesn’t share them with anyone. who is a lot more closed off and a lot more intense and lot more irritable and prone to outbursts of anger than the john people knew before he got deployed. 

i mean, these are likely people john knew from his home town, from grammar school and king’s college, from the various hospitals he worked and trained at. people who, understandably, don’t know how to deal with this man who looks like john but is very little like the john they knew before. 

and how could they? they don’t have the knowledge and tools they need to deal and help and support john. and john certainly isn’t providing them with any of that or making it any easier on them, not if he’s pretending like everything is fine. he’s barely making any process with his own therapist, and goes long stretches of time without therapy. so how could he possibly be in any sort of position to even begin to try and explain to his friends and family what he’s going through? if he can’t even properly admit it to himself?

john is trying way too hard to be a normal civilian, and that’s just not going to work, because that’s not who he is. he won’t ever be. even veterans who have gone through decades of therapy still feel disconnected from actual civilians. they’re just better equipped at dealing with it and expressing themselves to their loved ones/support system. 

john is absolute shite at it, because he hasn’t even properly committed himself to any sort of healthy process of dealing with what he’s gone through. he’s not just trying to be a civilian with his old friends. he’s trying to be that old version of himself. and that’s just never going to work, and it likely puts even more stress and strain on him, which manifests in even more behaviour his friends don’t understand or particularly care for. this is likely a friends group that still comes together once in a while out of a sense of duty and old loyalty, but really, it would be better for all if they just… stopped doing that. or at least if john stopped going to them, pretending he’s alright.

mostly, however, john needs to bloody well address his trauma already and deal with it. because i don’t care what you tell me, putting a traumatised former army doctor in another warzone ( read: criminal london ) is NOT a healthy, sustainable substitute for veteran therapy. end of story.

coffeeshop au rec list

Because coffeeshop AUs, no matter what certain critics might say, are awesome.

Pentanedione, Damascenone, Furanone, Vanillin by peevee: Sherlock designs a new roast just for John. So lovely and so hot.

Blond Barista Seeks Dashing Ballet Dancer: Inquire Within by prettysailorsoldier: One of my favorites. Unilock, ballet!Sherlock and rugby!John, coffeeshop, and a lot of pining - what’s not to love?

Division by MrsNoggin: My favorite! I love the tension between John and Sherlock in this fic, the buildup is fantastic. The setting and dialogue are perfect; read this one immediately.

Notes in the Tip Jar by Lakeore: Sherlock is a mute barista and John leaves him notes in the tip jar. A touch angsty but lovely.

A Whole Latte Love by prettysailorsoldier: John is a barista who flirts with Sherlock via latte art. So unbelievably cute and sweet!

Crossing Paths by prettysailorsoldier: Prettysailorsoldier has the best coffeeshop AUs, in case you haven’t noticed! In this one, John works at a 24hr cafe and Sherlock is an insomniac who comes in at odd hours.

One Espresso, Seven Sugars by mydarlingbenedict: Coffee with a side of smut! Sherlock is a regular at the cafe where John works.

Four Shots by Opy3332: After coming home from Afghanistan, John goes to work for a coffee shop in MI6. Sherlock, not coincidentally, starts taking more cases for his brother.

Johnloctober, Ch.12 by prettysailorsoldier: Sherlock is undercover at John’s favorite coffee shop in this unilock fic. A little angsty at one point but so cute!

Never Again, Vienna by reclusedetective: John is a barista who makes terrible coffee but Sherlock has a crush on him and buys it anyway. So, so adorable.

@britishnation // continued from THIS mess

The dismissal makes John visibly bristle – a muscle in his jaw jumping, hands clenching into fists by his sides – but it’s going to take a whole lot more than that to have him let go of this.

People are dead, Mycroft. Actual people with actual lives, gone. You can’t just rationalise them away like numbers in some inconvenient math problem.

He’s not being fair ; he knows that. Part of John is painfully aware of the burden of Mycroft’s work, how becoming involved is not considered an asset. Even in Afghanistan John was simply following orders, straightforward, dutiful, obedient. Even when the orders didn’t always make sense he would follow them, trusting that those in charge knew what they were doing. That they could see the bigger picture, the greater plan. He knows Mycroft is in much the same position as John’s commanding officers used to be, and on a much grander, more intricate scale at that. He understands. Most days, he’s even sympathetic towards it, supportive, as a proper partner should be.

Today it bothers him. He can’t rightly say why, only that it does. His bleeding heart always announces itself loudly and without warning, defeating his more pragmatic side with ease. But that’s only part of it this time. Another is John being genuinely concerned about Mycroft’s heart in all of this. If said concern materialises as anger, well… He never claimed to be any good at this sort of stuff. Quite the opposite.

Show some humanity, for God’s sake!

Around The World In Four Years

Dave Kunst walked around the world. In June 1970 the county surveyor set out from Waseca, Minn., with his brother John, $1,000, and a mule with the portentous name of Willie Makeit. The brothers walked to New York, flew to Portugal, and had got as far as Afghanistan when John was shot by bandits. Dave recovered from his own wounds and resumed the journey, flying from India to Australia when the Soviet Union denied him entrance. His third mule had died when a Perth schoolteacher agreed to haul his supplies with her car while he walked alongside. He finished the trip in October 1974, having walked 20 million steps and worn out 21 pairs of shoes. He married the schoolteacher.

John and Sherlock: loneliness vs caring environment

The show introduced us with two characters, John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, who both seem to have difficulties making friends. When they find each other, they “click” and save each other’s heart, becoming the most important person in the other’s life.

But there is a huge difference beween Sherlock’s loneliness and John’s.

Keep reading

10

So my big brother, Kevin, and I went to Dallas Fan Days today. Kevin was so excited to meet John Barrowman who talked to my brother a bit and noticed his service dog Scrappy. Kevin explained he’d done 2 tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan, and that watching John play Captain Jack really helped him. John Barrowman shook my big brother’s hand, thanked him for his service and asked if if he could pet Scrappy…and proceeded to CRAWL under the table and play with Scrappy for about 10 minutes. John then thanked Kevin again and shook his hand, crawled back under the table, signed Kevin’s picture “To Torvald” and then refunded Kevin’s autograph money and then gave him a half hug. That made Kevin’s day and probably is the one of his happiest memories. John Barrowman is so awesome! I will never, ever forget the awesome kindness he did.

youtube

Sherlock & John | Afghanistan or cocaine?

This video is very important to me.
Watch it, guys, and you will not regret it.
Thank you.

violetsedanchair  asked:

cupid, listen, i just had such a weird thought, idk what it means or if i'm up to something but - the first question sherlock asked john was "afghanistan or iraq?" and john answered afghanistan... and i just checked and - samarra is in iraq - i mean, in the end, it comes down to this very first question?

…and John escaped death…