Darkness. Definition: Sherlock Holmes Light. Definition: John Watson look at the stars. look how they shine for you. and everything you do. it was all yellow.

John's never had a patient quite as broken as Sherlock Homes. Or as ignorant of the fact that he is, indeed, broken. He speaks rarely, and when he does it's this torrential flow of insults and hurt memories and sadness. He speaks like he doesn't know that he's broken yet, like he thinks he's fine, and superior to everyone else in the room. Maybe he is. John doesn't know. Maybe he's not as beautiful, and clever, and graceful as he believes. Maybe he isn't some kind of ethereal creature that John has had the honour of beholding. Maybe he's just broken. And useless. And alone. John doesn't think so. John thinks he's everything, broken man and all. * Sherlock's never done anything quite like dancing. When he was there, wood springing under his feet, soft and warm and secure, he was happy. Sure. But he didn't know then that he'd give anything to be able to dance again. To have the pain of crushed toes, blisters, aching and biting all the fucking time. He didn't know he'd miss it like he misses breathing. But he does. Sherlock forgets to breathe, sometimes.

hello hello and welcome. this contains johnlock. yay, right? also, also, also. i am terrible at updating (yeyyyyy procrastination. boooo school). but i do update once in a while, so that's a plus. a very small plus, but a plus nonetheless. carry on! (my wayward son) **fancy disclamer: all the characters belong to BBC and mofftiss. i only own my story ideas**

a collection of johnlock oneshots/song fics {beautiful cover by the beautiful @queen_mycroft}

(Sequel to 'Beside You- A Johnlock Fanfiction') Now, finally reunited and married, the consulting detective takes his blogger for a honeymoon in Paris- but not is all as it seems, because awaiting amongst the enchanting sights and blissful haze is a figure from the past, who has news of a new nemesis who wishes to topple their newfound paradise in search of bloodthirsty revenge. To top things off, the new couple begin to wonder how thin is the line between the future and the past when a strange midnight incident occurs at Saint-Michel, triggering a new, shattering string of events- and buried memories. Some of which should have remained buried for much longer... (Inspired by the song 'Between The Raindrops' by Lighthouse and Natasha Bedingfield. Contains major fluff.)

POST REICHENBACH/JOHNLOCK AU. Two years after watching the love of his life commit suicide, John Watson has faded out. Balancing between sleepless nights or facing the nightmares to see Sherlock’s face again; he knows the game is over. But he never had closure. And so, on a bleak Christmas Eve, he visits Sherlock’s grave and says what he should have said but never could. He hadn’t expected a reply; especially not this one. After two years of using the shadow of his demise as a cover to take down a terror network, Sherlock Holmes is back. With his hand hovering over the call button, he waits near his grave to catch a glimpse of John, unsure of how to come home. But one night, somebody makes it easier. The game is on. (Or should I say, “The gay is on”?) BOOK #1 of the SherlockedDoors Subcanon (shitty name, I know, but alliteration calls.) (NOTE: This does not follow the plot of series 3, it goes off in a totally different direction. Though some things have been recently updated to merge with some posts in John's blog and a couple of teasers, I started writing this AAGGGEESSS before series 3 so the reunion scene is different. Anyhow, if you like Johnlock, you'll probably like this. Enjoy!)

(Sequel to ‘Beside You’ and ‘Between the Raindrops’) “A bullet and a bullet-wound are certainly two very different things. The bullet flies towards whom it is aimed, and the bullet-wound is the consequence of who gets hit. It is human nature that determines the impact, wouldn’t you agree?” Hide your skull and grab a shock-blanket, because the newfound quiet(er) than usual life of John and Sherlock Watson-Holmes is about to be thrown into jeopardy. And this time, the cryptic ‘Twist’ is the least of their problems… Just after the mark of having lived together for a year as a couple, they are disturbed by news of a mysterious attack- one that will allow time for the first of a string of kidnappings to take place, putting the lives of everyone they hold dear in danger. It will take the remains of their broken family and a couple of old friends to join the duo in cracking the codes and wading through a sea of blackmail in order to reach the final stage of the game. But this time, the villain who would do anything to win the game knows precisely what to do. Setting up a twisted web of lies and breadcrumbs, everything they thought they knew will be pushed out of balance by the King of Crime. But is it all a bluff? Or a double bluff? Or a triple bluff? (Book 3 of the SherlockedDoors subcanon. Contains fluff, possible smuff/flut, angst, Parentlock, a teeny-tiny crossover-ish part and a wedding) NOT BASED ON SERIES 3. SHERLOCK IS THE CREATION OF SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE, ADAPTED BY THE BBC. THIS IS SIMPLY A FANFICTION. NO COPYRIGHT INTENDED. ~ SherlockedDoors

He is lavish. Masterful. Intellectual, inexplicable, overt. Sexual. Sherlock Holmes defines extravagance. He isn't exactly the best thing for John's tireless, bland stability. John works the nine to five and tries not to lose sleep over the small things - like the labor of his fiancée's expectations, and the sirens that fill his head with noise after curfew. He finds comfort in art, and drinking. Besides the war making its presence known, slowly creeping its black tendrils into the heart of Bristol - John's life is quiet. Given that, he's not surprised when he is dragged into Sherlock Holmes's orbit. There is no manual to help him navigate the moment their eyes first meet; he presents himself as the perfect distraction, a beautiful incendiary miracle. John thinks that maybe he was hoping for this, because: Sherlock is potent, and inflammatory, and perfectly willing to make John's life hell for his own self-indulgent pleasure. With one touch, John's sense of self is corrupted. And what does it matter if the world implodes? It was never kind to them to begin with.

John's never seen a kid like him. He has this beautiful, crazy grace - withheld behind a smug smile and wisecracks that make John frustrated in so many different kinds of ways. And his eyes; crystal clear, decisive, cleaning through the unimportant things to find the valuables in life. He may or may not have a thing for smoking and James Bond, his favorite ice cream is mint with a chocolate swirl, and he is absolutely addicted to Pop Rocks and toffee. He enjoys pretty boys and warehouses, where he can hoard and think and be alone. Also, bumper cars, and John Watson. But Sherlock Holmes's thing, his niche, his calling in life... is to steal. Books. Wallets. Phones. Cars. Everything you've ever wanted, he's had. Everything you've ever wished for, he's stolen. Everything you are, everything you told yourself that you weren't, he owns, and he plays you like an out-of-tune violin. Does that mean that John's going to let him steal his heart? Not a shot in hell.

Once the rings have been exchanged and the vows have been said, Sherlock and John are ready to settle down and get their fill of the domestic bliss that so often comes with marriage. Unfortunately, nothing is ever that simple for them... and they know the honeymoon period can't last forever. They'd promised each other "for better or for worse", but John had no idea just how bad 'worse' could be.