Post-reichenbach Stories

John and Mary's infant daughter has been kidnapped, and someone shows up on the front step who Mycroft and Sherlock haven't spoken to in twenty years. Discover the real reasoning behind the Holmes brothers' career choices, Tom's true intentions in dating Molly, and the answer to the Final Problem in this adaptation to life after His Last Vow.

I don't know what to write in the description so just read the story and find out •_• 😊 THE MATURE CONTENT IS BECAUSE OF VIOLENCE AND LANGUAGE NOT BECAUSE THERE SUMT OR SOMETHING. I REAPET NO SUMT IN HERE SO SORRY PERVS😂 P.S props for the creator of the cover and I do NOT own any of the characters in this story they are property of "Sherlock bbc" and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

John isn't coping well with Sherlock's suicide...

Sherlock jumped and John Watson was the one who died that day. also uploaded on a03: MadiRoma221 :) None of these characters belong to me, if they did Johnlock would be canon!

Sometimes it takes a few tries to get fate right. A crossover fic between Cabin Pressure and Sherlock BBC. Set after season 2 of Sherlock BBC. 5+1 story which includes Christmas (if you wanted some holiday reading). Pairing is Martin Crieff/John Watson. This was written before series 4 of Cabin Pressure was released.

What's a sniper without his boss? The tales of BBC Sherlock's Jim Moriarty and his faithful, right-hand man Sebastian Moran. - ( All chapters are stand-alone. POV alternates. Warnings: Explicit language. ) -

It's been two years since Sherlock's death. How exactly has John been coping with it? *Post Reichenbach

POST-REICHENBACH John is suicidal, and misses Sherlock immensly. He leaves a note at Sherlock's grave, and goes back to Baker Street to meet up with Sherlock once more, but this time it will not only be a visit... PS: I know the cover is pretty bad. Deal with it. DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters, the only thing I own is my mind, and the words in this book.

Simply exhausted of all colour. Wasted. I didn't lie down. I didn't blink. I just sat there, staring into nothingness, waiting for something to materialise into my vision. Something. Anything. I had kept Sherlock away. Kept him away from his death, for so long. So long. Little did I know, all he needed was a little jump from a rooftop. It wouldn't take me long either, would it? I wasn't going to die. I needed relief. I needed disconnection. Disorientation. Oblivion. Ignorance. Because ignorance is bliss. It was in my hand, now. Like vengeance disguised in forgiveness. Breathe. Steady. Hold. Control. . . . Now. Pain shot through my arms and my palms, like my nails were being pulled out. It spread like fire, like ice cold fire, still burning like coals. My limbs were numb. I fell onto the bed, my mouth pressed into the sheet at an odd angle. I was too fatigued to change it. Too drowned to change it. Drowned too deep. To change anything. I'd never done this. Was I going to die? It'd be better if I died. What would that feel like? Flying? Better that this I suppose. Don't you think, Sherlock? [TW: IF YOU ARE STRUGGLING WITH PTSD SCHIZOPHRENIA DEPRESSION ANXIETY PANIC DISORDERS DRUGS OR ARE TRIGGERED BY ANYTHING ELSE PLEASE PROCEED WITH DISCRETION. GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF NEAR- SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND VIOLENCE AND ZERO CLOSURE LIKE LITERALLY NO CLOSURE]

"He cant be dead, he cant die" Two years after the devastating suicide of Sherlock Holmes, his best friend and secret lover John Watson visits his grave on the anniversary of the day they met. John takes time to recall the downfalls of his time after Sherlocks passing, but when an old face appears, will he believe his eyes, or walk away?

In which John finds Sherlock's gloves. {Post Reichenbach} (ONE SHOT) (FAN FICTION) (JOHNLOCK IF YOU SQUINT) *This is an original piece of fiction. It's mine. So don't steal it.* **I am in no way affiliated with the BBC, the show Sherlock, or anything. All characters belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I am just a fan with a notebook, a pen, and a lot of feelings.** ***Cover art is part of a piece by madtenka on deviantArt: http://madtenka.deviantart.com/art/hand-189758319***

For one to uncover secrets this deep, they must shatter the evil from within. A façade was all Sherlock was living now. When he gets wind of a masquerade ball being held in Moriarty's memory, he thinks it'll be no different than what he has been doing after his infamous fall. But a one-man operation was just suicide. He had no one to turn to if he wanted to keep them safe, but...maybe a certain pathologist of his had a way around that. A/N: This is set after Reichenbach. My friend @HoneyButterYum came up with the title and description and my friend @myfirstnameisagent came up with some elements of the plot. I don't own Sherlock Holmes or Molly Hooper or anything else from BBC Sherlock. All rights go to the creators and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. If you are reading this story on any other platform other than Wattpad (excluding websites like fanfiction.net and AO3--in that case please contact me immediately so I can deal with the plagiarism.) you are very likely to be at risk of a malware attck. If you wish to read this story in it's original, safe form, please got to jackskellingtonrulz5's Wattpad page. Thank you.

SPOILER ALERT FOR SEASON 2 AND SOME OF SEASON 1 OF SHERLOCK The fall of Sherlock had crushed John's life, his best friend was, gone forever. After three years of Sherlock being dead, John was living a somewhat normal life, missing his friend everyday. One day a guest comes knocking. Molly is standing at the door, she has something very important to say...

Basically a story of sorts I decided to try and write. It's a Sherlock/Johnlock story set in post Reichenbach. Hope you enjoy! **As much as I'd like to, I don't own these amazing characters. All rights to BBC. I also don't own the cover art, but if anyone does feel free to tell me so I can give them credit**

I'm sick so what's the best time to write a fan fiction about Sherlock being ill! (Y/n) has helped Sherlock with his crimes since John left the flat to live with Mary. However, after chasing a criminal through the dark streets of London in the rain, Sherlock develops a cold.

EVERY MINUTE AND EVERY HOUR , I MISS YOU , I MISS YOU , I MISS YOU MORE . since sherlock's suicidal leap off the top of st. bart's , john hasn't been the same . weeks pass , and things feel more dismal . even though john tries to move on , get on with his life , sherlock still seems to constantly be there , in his head , in his dreams , in every man that passes him on the street . this is the story of coping , of loss , and of eventual reunion . [ TOLD THROUGH BLOG ENTRIES AS WELL AS WRITING . ] [ EVENTUAL JOHNLOCK . ]