“They weren’t just close friends and partners, they were also roommates.”
- My English teacher, introducing Sherlock Holmes and John Watson to my class.
me: *makes sure I’m really muted*
me: *inhales deeply*
me: aND THEY WERE ROOMMATES.
Update: she gave us a reading assignment and there are already two (2) mentions of something that incited a reaction inside me so intense it should be considered an achievement that I refrained from punching a hole in my pillow.
In confessing to Sherlock why he’s not o.k., John thinks he will push away the one person he loves and cares about most …
For how could such a confession not?
But what if Sherlock had no idea what John was going through … until now? And knowing … he takes his time, gently … slowly … to show John that he is listening … ? And that he’s been here waiting … the whole time …
Absolute shit brother for not having kept in touch with her. To be honest, I’d given their relationship up for a lost cause … knowing the Watson history. Guess that speaks volumes about me?
She asked about you. How you were doing. Before she asked about Mary, and how I’m coping …
Probably knew I wasn’t about to answer. I needed another shot in my glass for that. Something stronger than hotel conference room coffee. And you know what I kept thinking? I was so happy for her … so proud! And yet, all I said was ‘good for you’ …
Good for you.
Like she’d won high marks on a test? Or adopted a puppy.
John got Sherlock a special book for his birthday: How to be a Better Husband. Sherlock read the first chapter (“Truth soothes”) and decided to try it out. Now, John regrets his life decisions.
In case you’re having a bad day or feeling a little under the weather, here’s some pics of Jeremy Brett with some doggies aka some of my absolute favorite photos of all time <3
Summary:Holmes and Watson meet as young adults and develop a relationship. However, the day comes for Watson to leave for war, and a painful goodbye plays out as he and Holmes part ways at the train station.
Pairing:Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson (Granada versions/acd canon)
Warnings: angst, fluff,
I’d expected the day to come, but the happiness I’d been basking in for the past ten months had made me desire it to take longer and longer until it wouldn’t come at all. After meeting him, time went by too fast for me to leave now. Far too fast.
Holmes walked beside me as we reached the train station, other gentleman dressed in similar attire as myself beginning to climb aboard the smoking train after saying their goodbyes to their own loved ones. I felt Holmes’ eyes upon me as he waited for me to abandon him, rip the bandaid off and hopefully make this moment less excruciating. Although, I believe it was easy to say that we both were aware that it would be just as torturous regardless of how fast or slow this went, or how much longer I’d get to be with him until I left for lord knows how long and returned after what will feel like a lifetime, if I’m lucky enough to return at all, that is.
I closed my eyes before turning to face Holmes who was now observing the train, seemingly admiring it. I sighed to try and buy some time to think of the right words to voice, with no avail.
“It won’t be forever, you know.”
I said as gently as I could, to which Holmes turned back to face me, his eyes leaving their blissful thinking state and returning to the sombre appearance they’d held from the moment I’d told him about what today meant whilst at breakfast. Of course, it didn’t take much for him to fill in the silence before I even got a word out to say what was to happen later. He simply looked at me and said, “What time?” His voice slower and heavier than I’d ever heard it to be. And now the moment had finally come.
“There’s no guarantee that you will be back, Watson, and as much as I appreciate your attempts to conceal the fact, I’m afraid it’s something I’ve tried to come to terms with myself.”
I’d felt a sting in my chest that got harsher with every word that escaped his mouth.
“Well, have you?” Asked I as I fought to keep my voice steady, although I’ve learned rather quickly that hiding anything from Holmes was always a losing game.
His eyes stared into mine like daggers, and his lips formed a small, painful smile.
“Not in the least.”
And with that, I could hold my emotions back no more. I lunged at him and buried him into my arms in an embrace, feeling his arms tighten around me as if his life depended on it, his breathing unsteady in my ear as he ran his nose slightly on my neck.
“I’m sorry.” I whispered in his ear. It was all I could think to say.
He let out a quick and soft laugh before placing a kiss on my jaw.
“Please, you mustn’t be anything of the sort. You’re the most admirable man I’ve ever gotten the absolute privilege to meet, to hold, to kiss.”
“You speak of me as if I’ve died.” I joked.
Holmes failed to laugh.
“I’m afraid that in this moment, there’s not a trace of certainty to ease my mind and promise me you won’t do so.”
I breathed in sharply before pulling him away from my neck and placing both my hands on his cheeks to face me.
“I won’t. God as my witness. I’ve got far too many beautiful things to come back for. You, my dear, are the face of them all.”
I slid my left hand off his cheek and onto his shoulder and let my right hand’s thumb caress and trace his cheekbone as I rest my forehead upon his, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath in an attempt to keep my composure.
Holmes slid his hand upon my wrist and gripped it hard enough to where I felt my blood circulation on that arm slow.
“Do not make promises you cannot keep, John. Not now.”
“I won’t if you promise me something in return.”
“Anything.”
“Please, stay off those dreaded poisons.”
Holmes looked down away from my eyes and onto the cement ground underneath us. I’d been dreading the thought of him turning to his substances and abusing his body and miraculous mind whilst I’m away. Seconds passed and he continued to avoid my gaze, without an answer slipping his lips, only increasing the fear building up in my chest more and more.
“Sherlock…”
He continued to avoid my gaze with a sharp exhale, until under a whisper, I uttered the words,
“For me.”
I’ve learned with time that those words seemed to always touch a place within him that no other words of mine could ever reach. It always rose an immense feeling of adoration in my heart.
With that, he finally looked into me once more.
“I promise you.”
I rubbed my nose lightly on his and brought him closer, lacking care in what the people around us thought about it.
“I cannot afford to lose you. Swear to me, please.”
He smiled, his hand placing itself onto my neck.
“You never will. I swear it.”
The bubble we’d felt surrounded us away from the world had popped with the sound of the train whistle and the conductor yelling for the final riders to aboard the train.
“I must go.” I whispered, forcing my voice to form the words as I felt it weaken with emotion. And to my surprise, and slight horror, I witnessed a small droplet escape Holmes’ left eye and leave a shiny trail down the smooth skin on his face. I’d never seen him show this kind of emotion in the entire time we’ve known each other up to this point in time.
I’ve seen Sherlock Holmes in many states in different circumstances. I’ve seen him lost in thought when at times he forgets my presence as I observe his mind begin to swallow him whole and allow him to wander elsewhere away from his surroundings as he observes something, I’ve seen him close his eyes and lean his head back in bliss and pleasure as his ears savor the melody of a violin, or as we finally get our time alone and he allows me to cherish his being without the obnoxious barriers of his clothing to stop me, I’ve seen him groan in pain and annoyance as he stumbles backward into the corner of a ring after an especially hard blow to his nose from his opponent in a boxing match. I’ve seen blood run down his face; but not tears.
I had hoped I would never get the chance to do so.
I wiped the stray tear away with my thumb and planted a kiss on his forehead, caring less and less about the eyes that were surly upon us.
“It might take months, perhaps years, but I promise I’ll come back for you. I plan on keeping that promise to the very end.”
Holmes smiled and let out another small, quiet laugh.
“Please do so. After all, I am lost without my Boswell.”
I let out a small laugh of my own and returned the gentle smile.
“And I without you.”
We stood in silence, savoring our time together for another moment, until the conductor caught Holmes’ ear.
“Go on. No matter how long it takes, I’ll be here expecting your return.”
“You better be.”
I made note to glance around us to see if eyes were observing us, and when I failed to find any, I pressed a deep kiss onto his soft lips, tasting a lick of tobacco and lavender tea from his breakfast this morning. A very poor one, at that. I made a mental note to send him letters ordering him to maintain a less than unsustainable diet.
Holmes returned the kiss and pulled me closer by the collar on my soldier’s uniform, gripping it tight enough to where I feared he might rip it. His lips abandoned mine allowing him to breathe.
“Damn you John Watson and those magical lips of yours.”
I laughed and grabbed my luggage before placing a quick but passionate kiss on his lips once more and holding his hand, feeling it slip away as I climbed aboard the train quickly before it departed, and opened the window beside my seat, allowing my head to pop out as the train whistled in announcement of its departure.
My eyes caught Holmes’ once more. The train had not yet began to move, thankfully, and I watched Holmes walk quickly to the window and reach out for my hand for a final time which I painfully took and tried my absolute best to memorize the way it felt, his lips catching my gaze as he mouthed:
“I love you.”
The train began to move slowly, but not before I managed to mouth back:
“And I you.”
And with that, my fingers felt down his palm until they could no longer as the train began its journey. Holmes waved me goodbye with a smile I’ve only ever seen when he stood in front of me and me alone, as he fell behind more and more.
Not wanting to stick my head back inside the train, I watched him until he completely left my sight and vanished behind the train’s smoke. And when he did, I laid my head back onto the seat, and let the sob I’d been desperately fighting back out into the palm of my hand to suppress it from the ears of others.
“I will return to him.” I swore to myself.
“I must.”
Author’s note: forgive my punctuation it’s never been my strongpoint.
So WHAT if I tell people that this is a photo of my great, great, great, grandfather who was in love with a man and had a child via a surrogate who was a friend of his from university and was of Mexican decent which is why I’m not white like them and that my parents named me Sherlock after him and never speak about either of my grandfathers because homophobia and that’s why they’re never EVER mentioned?
I want a ironstrange Halloween fic where they both dress up as Sherlock Holmes, and then Tony tells Stephen about the time he and Jarvis had matching Sherlock costumes, and then Stephen mentions how Professor X and Magneto dressed up as Watson and Sherlock, and how one time a band of villains (Yon-rogg, Trevor Slattery, Wilson Fisk) just all dressed up as Moriarty, and Zola got sad so he came too. Then I want Tony to mention the time he took Christine Palmer to a science party thing dressed as Sherlock, and then Strange to say he did the same thing.
I truly love your writing so so much. it’s the most fantastic heartbreaking breathlessly perfectly brilliantly story ever. I am drowning in emotions. I truly love this story more than I can say!
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