Old Friends
  • Reads 241
  • Votes 29
  • Parts 18
  • Time 1h 11m
  • Reads 241
  • Votes 29
  • Parts 18
  • Time 1h 11m
Ongoing, First published Feb 28, 2017
Sherkock Holmes: infamous for being void of all emotion.
John Watson: praised deeply for putting up with the difficult detective. 
Both men were content with where they were. After Moriarty, after Mary. For the first time in a while they seem happy with what's going on in their lives. That is until Sherlock's past comes back around to haunt him; Until she comes back, dragging a storm along with her. Sherlock's heart is destroyed, John finally gets to see the soft side of the, so called, 'sociopath', both men are put into a great level of danger. The question is: will Sherlock be able to cope or will his beautiful mind break him?
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What if the perfect duo of Holmes and Watson had met differently? What if John had been hired by Mycroft to look after his little brother? What if... "Mr. Holmes," John exclaimed with astonishment written across his features. "You can't be serious." "This isn't complicated, I assure you. All that I'm requesting is for you to befriend my brother and become his flat-mate. You will still have your regular life. Your past with the MI-6 will become rather useful with protecting Sherlock from harm with his array of detective work and crime fighting." John couldn't ignore the way his heart's jumped at the last part. He struggled to keep his face straight and look at this rationally. "And what if your brother doesn't like me? We might not be friends." Mycroft sighed. "Then I will remove you from this job and ask someone else to try," he replied smoothly. John was going to reject the offer when Mycroft interrupted. "Mr. Watson, I am aware that you want something more then your dull civilian life. This is the offer that you've been waiting for." Still uncertain, John wavered. He decided to at least take a look at the file Mycroft handed him seconds ago. Nothing caught his eye as he flitted mindlessly through the pages. Then his eyes landed on the photo and John's breath caught in his throat. His sharp cheekbones and impossible eyes were undeniably the ones of the breath-taking man he had bumped into on the street earlier.
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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.