Fandom: Sherlock (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Additional Tags: First Time, It’s For a Case
Summary: John tells the truth about how it happened. For some reason, “it’s for a case” always seems to do the trick.
Posts tagged fic rec.
So Full of Light by Mydwynter
Mystrade, 21,000 words
If you’ve never read Mystrade and are wondering if you’d like it, this is a damn gorgeous place to start. The emotion and honesty that Mydwyner packs into these 20k words is astonishing. You start with delicious pining (Mycroft pov is a wonderful thing) and Lestrade appreciation and beard kink heaven and then you lose yourself in just aching for these two to find their way. Each emotion is delightfully wrung out of you as you go through it. Do not miss this!
“Look at you,” Gregory whispered, the air of it hitting Mycroft’s lips. Gregory cupped Mycroft’s face in both hands and brushed his thumbs against his beard. He let out a huff of breath. “Mycroft…” He felt Gregory smooth the pad of his thumb against the furrow between Mycroft’s eyebrows. There was a moment, and then Gregory pressed his mouth against Mycroft’s cheek again. For the first time, his arms came up around Mycroft’s ribs and he squeezed him with a tight hug.
Panic started to form in Mycroft’s chest. He’d spent all his time perfectly in control, but now it seemed he could summon none. Emotions he hadn’t even known he had were overflowing their banks, and try as he might he couldn’t bring them into bounds again. And Gregory’s embrace was making it even worse. Mycroft stood there for one more moment and then his resolve shattered. He wrapped his arms around Gregory’s shoulders and held him tightly.
"Mycroft," Gregory whispered, and astonishment was in his voice. He gripped harder around Mycroft’s coat. He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, and Mycroft was just aware enough to notice that it shook. "God. Mycroft.”
Mary is horrible and loveable and badass and perfect.
The Bottom Third of the Door Handle by fleetwood_mouse (E, 3000 words)
There’s a lot going on in the restaurant. Sherlock observes, but there’s always something. A smutty coda to A Study in Pink.
Seconding like woah. I don’t think I’d read fleetwood_mouse before today, and now I’m off to read some more.
Right?! Found it on that Johnlock AO3 feed Tumblr that just posts every new Johnlock fic. Good-ass find.
They have this way of writing around the edges, a style that implies more than is said. One of my favorite sort of writing style. The atmospheric details in this just absolutely make the story.
It’s lovely! I know I’ve read their stuff before, but I can’t remember what it was. Need to investigate.
The most delicious Johnlock coffeeshop AU:
11 chapters - 19,500 words
A delight - sexy, sweet, heart-twistingly romantic. And it will make you want a good coffee like whoa. Noms.
John swallows awkwardly, finally wrestling himself under control. But damn, Sherlock looks delicious. And he is, John thinks to himself, he knows he is. Greg is saying something about how busy they’ve been all day and all the money Christmas shoppers bring in each year, even if they are annoying, leaving things behind and taking up three seats each with their shopping. But John thoughts seem to be firmly lodged in the Sherlock section of his brain, and he has lost the train of the conversation.
“Hmm, I know,” he says, hoping his response makes sense. He pays, and it’s time to move down the bar. He takes another deep breath, fighting the goofy smile on his face and says quietly, “Good afternoon.”
“John,” Sherlock nods. He has John’s coffee ready, steaming and saucer-less in his hands. Only as he passes it carefully over does he lift his head, trailing his eyes slowly up from the cup, greedily absorbing every detail and crease of John’s clothing. His gaze flickers over his neck and chin, hovering around his mouth before finally travelling up to meet John’s.
John is pretty sure he is blushing, which would feel exceptionally ridiculous if he cared. He’s distracted though, by the decadent caress of fingers against his. The slightly calloused tips slide enticingly into the gaps between his own digits, curling slightly as they pull away, leaving the little mug behind. It is an erogenous zone John has never encountered before on his body, but there is a distinct rush of blood within him in response.
“Good day?” An innocent enquiry, if it hadn’t been accompanied by sparkling eyes and a cheeky twitch of a smile.
“It started well,” John manages to reply.
Written for the 24 hour porn challenge on LiveJournal’s Come At Once community! I had the prompt “just to take the edge off.” Unbeta-d, un…well, anything, really. I just cranked this out like a good girl in my 24 allotted hours.
John has a lot of ideas of what might happen at the end of his first date with Sherlock. Maybe he should help himself relax a little bit, first. Wouldn’t do to be too quick off the mark, you know.
More Things Than are Dreamt Of by 1electricpirate
In which John is (reluctantly) a wizard, Mycroft is (apparently) omniscient, and Sherlock is (surprisingly) oblivious. A series of three stories (and hopefully more to come!) - a wonderful treatment of HPxSherlock. (Potterlock?) Head into John’s past as a wizard, why he gave it up, and what makes him reveal his secret to Sherlock. Then watch as Sherlock tries to learn all he can about magic. Surprisingly thoughtful and emotional, with Potter character cameos. Love.
Sooo…. I just ran rabid through this story and wrote a total manic brain-dump of a comment. It’s shatteringly good.
Rated Explicit; features John/Sherlock, Sherlock/Victor, vague sideline Molly/Lestrade and Mormor
Summary: as oil paintings dry, the process is not evaporation as there is no water in the paint to disappear; instead, the oils in the paint are oxidised causing them to harden over years in a process that never really stops.
Holy Jesus, you guys. This is a heartwrenching and beautiful journey. It pulls you along incessantly, making you ache for more. The writing is gorgeous, the scenes dreamy and imaginative and gutting (and HOTohmygod the sex is amazing).
Sherlock is a famous painter, and his latest project is painting one John Watson. I will warn you that it’s not fluffy, and while there’s a fantastic resolution, it’s not a happy one. If you’re not into that, you probably shouldn’t read it - but I will say you’re seriously missing out if you skip it. It’s gorgeous. It hit me somewhere deep.
The three finished pieces — a profile of his face in candlelight, a full-frontal nude that made Sherlock inexplicably blush, and an intense study of his left eye that’s drying darker and bluer the longer it sits — lean against the far wall of the flat surveying the progress of his work like guards along a watchtower.
Sherlock hears that voice over the bubbling din of the Vivaldi and Strauss (Strauss, for god’s sake) he blares — the one telling him he’s amazing, that people don’t have arch enemies, that he’s not afraid of him — and even though he knows it isn’t his real voice (it can’t be), he smiles. Sherlock is ridiculous.
No, sleep won’t take long to find him, not tonight, not when he grinds himself this close to the quick. Sherlock strips bare and slides beneath the dark duvet. Measuring his breaths, it’s his mind that takes a bit to press the brakes. He remembers: He’s sitting there in the sunrise after another long day at hospital, he probably saw a lot of blood last night, his eyes sparkle a bit more 116 blanc de titane, titanium white, it excites him but it wears him and he wears it, little flecks of blood on his gingham collar someone moved when they weren’t supposed to he got most of it off his neck, his neck, sturdy caramel column, seven cervical vertebrae articulating moving column, darker skin than his chest his hips his thighs, exposed and delicate, more reactive melanin here blend blend and he’s a natural blonde all the way down all the way down, gradient gets darker on the way down, focus! bright open palms, he’s showing me, what are you showing me, John? why are you smiling at me? what have I done now? He breathes slow and deep, his spine crackling in grateful release, and he sinks and sinks.
Today I read a comeplay fic that really lived up to the comeplay thing. Sherlock was a slut and it was beautiful. Comeplay will be my next fav thing to see them doing i’m sure; Also the hair pulling scene was just hot.
John insists on using condoms. Sherlock is disappointed. Apparently, this is how fetishes are born
Meta as fanfic - be still my heart. An imaginative and surprisingly moving read.
length - 13,000 words
Summary: The evidence is all there: we know it’s bound to happen. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are going end up together, aren’t they? Obviously! We can show all the evidence in meta posts on tumblr (and oh we do, we do!), but we could also sit them both down and tell them it’s going to happen. And how it might happen. Doesn’t hurt to nudge them along, does it?
trickybonmot asked: A month of your ficlets is a delightful prospect! May I suggest: getting caught (or the fantasy thereof)
You got it, bb. :D
I just went through all these - what a delight!
“You love your mother, Sherlock?”
John watched the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw jump. He nodded in one sharp jerk.
“Then we’re going to her party and making her happy.” John let out a resigned sigh. “As a ruddy couple, you bastard.”
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Word Count: 30,567
Warnings: None!One year since this fic was posted and I can still remember the rush I got reading it for the first time. Reread it today. /So good./
It’s 60 mph’s birthday! Weee!