"Do you think God stays in heaven because he, too, lives in fear of what he's created?"-Steve Buscemi, Spy Kids 2 Hamilton wants the d(ark roast) *rereads this story* CRAWLING IN MY SKIN THESE WOUNDS, THEY WILL NOT HEAL This is a Lams coffee shop AU written from mostly John Laurens' P.O.V., but it does switch from time to time. In it, Laurens works the night shift at a coffee shop (who knows if a 24 hour coffee shop exists, but in fiction, anything is possible), that Hamilton decides to go to when after he gets struck with writer's block. Normal coffee shop AU antics ensue. To be honest, a lot of the story isn't actually in the coffee shop, but... So anyway, it's gay and no one dies...(yet) Buckle up and hold on. (Cover by yamhaylet)

Meet Sherlock Holmes- a 15 year old sociopath; arrogant, tactless, rejected, but enjoys a life of solitude and deducing. Meet John Watson- a 15 year old footballer; quiet, popular, caring, but endures a life of isolation and oppression. A transfer from a state school, John pushes open the door of Room 22 to find the most crucial part of his life he never knew existed; a teenage boy with the mind of a philosopher, who just so happens to be able to precisely analyse every detail of John's life, whilst being able to piss everyone else off at the exact same time.

• a oneshot about what clara oswald and the twelfth doctor said to each other down in the cloisters •

Sherlock Holmes classified himself in many ways. Consulting detective. High-functioning sociopath. Yet he never thought he would be anorexic. When John notices Sherlock growing thinner, he is desperate to find help. Sherlock moves from crime scenes to clinics, his health deteriorating with each refused meal. John must keep a level-head through Sherlock's panic attacks and physical ailments, but he doesn't know how long he can stay strong. As both men see the worst in each other, they realize treatment may come in the form of the most powerful motivator: love.

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!)

"I'm stupid," John says. "Why?" "Because I fell in love with you." "Yeah," Sherlock responds, "Definitely stupid." Set over the course of one school year in 2009, this is the story of two star-crossed misfits - Sherlock and John - smart enough to know that first love almost never lasts, but brave and desperate enough to try. They struggle through identity crisis, drug addiction, and child abuse together, along with dealing with the pain of a highschool that labels them as freaks. When Sherlock meets John, they spark a love that will remind you of your first - and how hard it pulled you under. "STFU ITS THE BEST FANFICTION I HAVE EVER READ AND YOU CAN QUOTE ME ON THAT" - @dearwatson when I was arguing with her this one time Cover art by @meglet713 and re-edit by my dad, @dearwatson No copyright infringement intended. Story and characters belong to Rainbow Rowell and BBC Sherlock. (no reposting please)

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.

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.

pain is beauty. {cover art drawn by me, pieced together and colored by @queen_mycroft, my best friend, son, and grandmother}