Posts tagged fic rec.

Fic rec - Oxidation

Sooo…. I just ran rabid through this story and wrote a total manic brain-dump of a comment. It’s shatteringly good. 

Oxidation by abbykate

Length: 27,900

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.

What My Body Has Seen by 

John insists on using condoms. Sherlock is disappointed. Apparently, this is how fetishes are born

oh hello.

(via msaether)

fic rec - Whatever Remains, However Improbable

Meta as fanfic - be still my heart. An imaginative and surprisingly moving read. 

Whatever Remains, However Improbable by

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!

Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour ›




“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

Pairing: Sherlock/John

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 30,567

Warnings: None!

For ghoulkitten, peevee, and ohgodyescake. This was a blast to write. I hope you like it!

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!

Fic rec: Crazy For Love

Crazy For Love by prettyvk

Length: 98,700 words, 34 chapters

Sherlock finds himself caring for Jim Moriarty’s abandoned son. Eventual J/S. 


Darlings, I consumed this story like a fiery fiend. 

Read More

The Blushful Hippocrene (4120 words) by mistyzeo [AO3] ›


Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Additional Tags: Romance, Drunkenness, Drunk Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Oral Sex, Groping, Love, Husbands, Teasing, Snark, Drunk idiots

Sometimes, when I am bored, I like to get Doctor Watson drunk.

Mmm… delightful. :)

(via toooldforthissh--stuff)

"The words aren’t right, because there aren’t words that would fit, at all, for what he feels right now, for this mad man, for what he wants to do to Sherlock and have Sherlock do to him in return. He wants to know what Sherlock tastes like, what Sherlock’s secrets feel like when he digs in deeply enough to find them and sinks his teeth in. He wants to belong to Sherlock, he knows, wants Sherlock to reach inside and know him, not just deduce him, but know him, well and truly.”

The Autumn Moon is Bright by barrowjane

Under Control ›



Once again, one of my absolute favorite ones, as far as porn is concerned. HOWEVER, I must put up a warning that it’s a johnlock threesome with Lestrade. BUT, it is NOT OT3. Meaning that it’s only sex between three men but the “love and feelings” part is only between John and Sherlock.

I never…

This is one of my all time pure smut faves. Totally delicious.

oh holy jesus - this is smoldering hot. 

There’s been so much talk of scenting lately I had to go re-read this gem.

The Most Primitive Sense by esterbrook

"Watson," Holmes said to me once, in that bed, "I believe that affection cannot be allowed into the workings of a logical mind. It causes a man to wholly lose sight of his aims. But you are my colleague and friend; you make no demands I would not answer. I now understand that affection for you does not impair my reason. It improves it."

"You often observe me," I answered. "What do you find?"

"I deduce nothing you are unaware of."

"I give you leave to act on your deductions."

He kissed me, broken as I was, and tightened his arm around me.

The Rational Mind - Sam_Storyteller

Fic rec: History, Repeating Itself by gyzym

If you have not read History, Repeating Itself by  then you are seriously not living life to its full potential. I just emerged after a binge session, just about gasping for air. IT’S AMAZING. I think someone at the con told me to read it - I wish I could remember the context. Anyway -

45,500 words, 10 chapters. John and Sherlock as you’ve never seen them before. The best fucking narrator I’ve just about ever met. And their chemistry is delicious. 

I don’t know if authors want to hear this or not - is it a compliment? But this story could 100% be name-swapped and repackaged as original fiction and be a fucking hit. (The only downside being that then we’d lose the delightful ‘everyone matches the ACD canon and it’s all one big delightful coincidence’ injoke that carries through, and that really is a gem and a half.)


He looked me over. There’s something about Holmes’ stare—I noticed it even then—that makes a man slightly uncomfortable. How can I properly…okay. Imagine you’re in class, right? And you get that creepy feeling at the back of your neck, like someone’s watching you. So you turn around and look, but no one’s there, and you feel crazy but the sensation doesn’t go away, and you start wondering where this little fucker is hiding, because obviously someone is staring at you? You’re there with me? Okay, now multiply it by six and then add the idea that someone is dissecting your brain from the inside out, and then you’ve got what it’s like when Holmes starts with the scrutiny.

I coughed. He looked away.

"Right," he said, "time for a drink."

"It’s two in the afternoon."

"Well, you can’t expect me to move in with a guy without knowing what he’s like after a couple of beers," Holmes said. "I’d ask you to buy me dinner first, but I get the impression you might hit me."

"Astute," I murmured, and he laughed.

Started the day with a lovely bit of Victorian Holmes/Watson PWP (Still, I Shiver, by tweedisgood, a favorite), and now I just want to sit at home and write porn. Instead have to go to work… most inconvenient. 

Cracks in the Wall ›



Author: Sweetcupncakes

Summary: ”The day of the funeral is cruel in its ordinariness. The sun hides behind bleached wisps of clouds, the air is lukewarm on his skin, the ground stubbornly refuses to consume John from the feet up.” After losing his mother to illness, John’s family must figure out how to move on with life. John finds comfort in a place he never expected.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Minor character death, grief themes after loss of a parent, bullying, an attempted assault, sexual activity between stepbrothers

Word Count: 83,015


From the submitter, sherlockdoesajumpkiss: I had to create a Tumblr just so I could submit this fic.  I really can’t express enough how touching and wholesome and realistically this story is written.  I was admittedly wary when I saw the basic plot by three sentences in, I was sold no matter what happened.  This is unlike any teenlock I’ve read.  The way John struggles throughout the story with his grief that arrives in bright flares of vivid imagery, it’s poetic and convincing.  It’s grief exactly how we all know it, and it’s written so beautifully. Sherlock and John are absolutely recognizable as the characters we know them to be.  Even though the story (minus the epilogue) is written exclusively in John’s POV, you have a perfect sense of Sherlock and how he feels/thinks/acts. I love this teenlock because john and Sherlock are treated with maturity, they’re not made simple because they’re young, and the writer gives true respect to those strong strong strong feelings we experience in our teen years.

All in all…Amazing. I was truly stunned when I finished reading it. It belongs on the shelf next to fandom classics like PiaLR and 221 Bravo Baker. Emotionally fufilling, complex, hot (did I mention socklock??) and does not skirt hard topics such as loss, bullying, and the scary reality of assault.  Can we just talk about it forever? 

ithinkthereforeisherlock: I’ve been reading this fic since the first chapter was posted, so this is a review that went pretty quickly from submission to being posted on the blog! Like I’ve said numerous times on the blog before, sweetcupncakes (vaginal-diabetus on Tumblr) is quickly becoming one of my favorite authors in the Sherlock fandom. Her stories are heartfelt, touching, sweet without being sickly fluffy, and just so wonderfully well-characterized. Cracks in the Wall is no exception - I’m not usually into teenlock, but I’m subscribed to sweetcupncakes and decided to give it a try anyway - this one just grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. 

Like the submitter said, the premise of this story seems immediately OOC and unbelievable: John’s father marries Sherlock’s mother after John’s mother dies, and Sherlock/Mycroft/John/Harry become step-siblings. (What?!) I got to that bit of the story and my reaction was definitely one of confusion and trepidation as to where the story was going, but oh man, did the author deliver!

My favorite part of this story is probably that we can see the younger versions of exactly the same characters we see in canon, but with rougher edges - that’s not always easy for an author to portray! I think teenlock fics pose a special challenge for authors in that they have to realistically deviate from canon characterization, because it’s actually more unrealistic that Sherlock was, well, always the Sherlock we see on the show. Sweetcupncakes is a master at this - in CitW, you can see the beginnings of Sherlock-and-John-as-we-know-them, but the story itself is wonderfully unique. This is a special one, for sure. Highly recommended and tagged under favorite fics.

That was the fastest fic-to-review I’ve ever gotten, and now I’m rolling in the feels.  Let’s do a jump kiss guys.

this fic is delicious and I highly recommend it!

Fic recs - Reunion fics

(note: I just found this buried in my drafts folder - now that we’re post S3, I’m not sure if anyone’s back to reading reunion fic, but hey, I did all this work so they must be worth a look, right? )


So, The Reunion. Kiss? Hug? Punch? Crying? Fainting? Lots of yelling? What’s your favorite treatment? Here are a few approaches that touched me, for various reasons.

A Thousand Apologies by Anonymous (kink meme fill)

His reunion with John was possibly the most dramatic thing either of them had ever experienced. And through absolutely no fault of Sherlock’s, it happened at a crime scene, in the middle of the street, in front of about twenty police officers.

“I tried to call you,” Sherlock said numbly, because he had to say something, because John was just staring at him. “Your mobile was dead. It went straight to voicemail.”

John continued to stare at him.

Seventeen by consultingcenturion

“I love you,” he said, louder now, with more resolve. He’d find a way to tell John as many times as he could before the doctor fled; he’d find his way to hell with those words on his tongue. “I did all I could to fully protect you, because I love you.

Bedtime Stories by liketheriver

I unwrap the skull from its packaging and place it back on its regular spot on the mantel. Just the skull. The skull and the ash tray and the dressing gown are all I need. An hour later, I slip the pack of cigarettes underneath the skull. By the time Mrs. Hudson brings up tea, I’m standing in a dressing gown a few inches too long for more, ankle deep in a pile of crumbled pages from The Guardian next to an empty cardboard box, and surrounded by a collection of treasures that make me want to weep as much as they make me feel completely at home.

[The post-RF doesn’t start until about halfway though, but trust me, the rest is fantastic as well and worth it for the set up.]

Exactly What He Wants to See by

The final surprise comes when John is just beginning to recover from the last. He is at the police station, because Lestrade has called him in to look at a body. In his kind, slightly awkward way, Lestrade is trying to throw John a lifeline. He wants to distract John from his thoughts with danger, and John is more than willing to try it. However, the case is a straightforward crime of passion, and John cannot help hearing echoes of Sherlock in his head. “Dull. Why isn’t anything ever interesting?”

It was interesting when you were here, John thinks.

All This Longing by belovedmuerto

It’s been nearly three months since the day Sherlock knocked on his door. Since Sherlock stood in his not-really-a-lounge in his tiny flat, too alive to be there, too vibrant for this drab flat, for John’s ugly furniture, for the space in his head, since Sherlock stood and fidgeted with his phone and tried, stammering in a way John hadn’t thought possible, to explain why.

Nearly three months since Sherlock said, desperately, voice shaking, “I’m sorry, John.”

Since John had walked him to the door (herded him, really) and said, very sensibly, “Fuck you, Sherlock,” before shutting it on him.

Some nights, John dreams of the surprised look on Sherlock’s face. He wakes up somewhere between laughter and tears.

Taghairm by dogpoet

Longing for a landscape as desolate as he feels, he returns to the home of his ancestors, a cold, foggy, gorse-ridden, rocky, hummocky land. A land where people wear jumpers as thick as armour, jumpers felted with water and lanolin until the wool stands up on its own.

There is a legend in the Highlands: taghairm. Sometimes used to raise the dead.

He inquires in Kylesku, and he finds a man, Dougal Keairn, who will help him.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes,” John says, needful.

“Hope you’re not afraid of the devil,” Keairn cautions. “We’re about to call him.”

The Deepest Secret Nobody Knows (Anon Holmestice fill)

John sees him the moment he steps out of the door, and for a fleeting moment, Sherlock can see conflicting emotions play on his face. Joy, pain, weariness. Finally, weariness seems to win out and when he walks towards Sherlock, he only looks tired.

He’s also wearing glasses. Thin, horn-rimmed glasses. Somehow, that little, insignificant detail hits Sherlock like a sledgehammer. Sherlock has never seen these glasses before. He’s been observing John’s deteriorating eyesight since the moment they met, but he’d estimated that it would take at least two more years for it to become so bad that John would stoop to actually seeing an ophthalmologist. But apparently, sometime during the year Sherlock was gone, John’s eyesight deteriorated enough for him to get glasses. Of course Sherlock immediately wants to pluck them from John’s nose and examine them in detail, and a whole catalogue of questions develops in Sherlock’s brain. How strong are they? Does he have contacts? Does he need them to read? To work? To drive?

And in counterpoint, another voice inside his head just whispers, God he looks good.