Story cover for The Doctor And The Detective (Johnlock) by CluelessPumpkin
The Doctor And The Detective (Johnlock)
  • WpView
    LECTURAS 34,579
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    Votos 1,437
  • WpPart
    Partes 22
  • WpHistory
    Hora 1h 15m
  • WpView
    LECTURAS 34,579
  • WpVote
    Votos 1,437
  • WpPart
    Partes 22
  • WpHistory
    Hora 1h 15m
Concluida, Has publicado nov 20, 2016
John looked peaceful, his head lulling back and hands clasped together in his lap. His mouth was slightly open, and his breathing even. How had he fallen asleep so perfectly? Most people who had fallen asleep around Sherlock (which was, admittedly, not many) had slept awfully, loud and snorty, sometimes thrashing around, sometimes making weird sounds you're only capable of making while asleep. 

He sat next to the doctor, being careful not to disturb his slumber. Closing his eyes, Sherlock tried to get to his mind palace. To his dismay, too many thoughts cluttered his head. That had never happened before. Sherlock groaned softly, keeping his eyes closed. Maybe he should get some sleep. He knew John would want him to.

"Ah John, what would I do without you?" Sherlock whispered to the sleeping man beside him on the couch. "I'd be a half dead robot if you weren't here. I almost was. I almost was." A small sigh escaped his lips as he slipped into the cool relief of sleep.
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[Sherlock x Female OC] The thing is, there is an empty, gaping hole at the base of John's throat where his overwhelming guilt and periodic bouts of torturous grief used to be. It would be so easy to... to be angry and punch a hole through the wall, through the foam of his pillow -- drive his fist through Sherlock's heart. But he remembers; in the most tragic and inopportune of fashion, remembers how angry he had been when Sherlock had jumped, how furious he had been at his funeral, and how it hadn't stopped him from breaking down at his grave nonetheless. The thing about his anger is this: it does nothing but leave him behind in the end, a bundle of nerves and frailty in his bones and an unsteady sway to his gait. It does nothing at all, but reduce marginally the constant, suffocating oppressiveness of his days bleeding into one another with a burst of adrenaline. The thing about his anger is this: it doesn't give him back Sherlock. So he gets a new flatmate- a woman named Holland. They were great friends at school and in fear he would be lonely again after Sherlock died he started to meet up with her, and soon, she moved in with him. They're just friends, though. No one could have a bond with John like Sherlock did. Sherlock was his best friend. But then Sherlock returns, and John is more furious than ever at him. Also, Sherlock and Holland seem to bond quite well, which is something Sherlock finds too complicated to explain itself.
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My first fanfic and my first reader insert so don't kill me. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The story is about You my reader, Your fellow colleague was murdered and during the investigation you met The Consulting detective 'Sherlock Holmes' and his companion 'John Watson'. You and Sherlock clicked instantly but can Sherlock learn the human emotion 'Love'? Or will he block those feelings and stay cold and collected. The mystery of your colleague continues and you become more involved with the case every day and that my dear makes you a target for some or 'The weak-spot of Sherlock Holmes' How will you try to help the to men without becoming a victim yourself...?