Introduction Alana is struggling with PTSD from what she went through, She doesn't know how she's ever going to muster up the courage to tell someone what happened. ---------------------- A/N Please comment or message me if you think there's any area I can improve in. 😀 it would be very much appreciated!!

"oh god John I can't do this!" Sherlock exclaimed. He slammed his hands hard against the leather seat and pulled himself up. He spread his arms out, showing his full wingspan. "John fix me." Sherlock gets sick and John looks after him. Things get pretty cute. - co-written with my gal Jo :)

Rewritten because it was previously deleted by a bee.

Jade is the typical high school loner. That is, until she meets a special someone and his wild group of friends, and is thrown into a life she'd never expected to have; roadtrips? Parties? Romance, perhaps? (This was my first Strokes fic, so obviously it's pretty badly written and quite cringeworthy to read, but if you manage to read up to the halfway point, I promise you it gets more bearable to read from there!)

How will young adulthood and additional responsibilities treat Jade and the guys? *Meet Me in the Bathroom: Second Part*

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.

Not a case to be heard and not a cigarette to be found, Sherlock is desperate! But John presents Sherlock with a case he can't refuse! It starts with a simple kiss just for kicks, but was it something more? That's for John to know and Sherlock to find out!