the misadventures of sherlock holmes and john watson
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Ah, the sweet voice of addiction.
It had curled around him on a regular basis, whispering its sweet nothings into his ear- but he had shut it out, for him. For John, mostly. Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, Mary, Molly… None so as important as the man he loved, his dear Watson, though they were important nonetheless. It was especially strong when he was at his moments of weakness; that was when it took over his thoughts.Series
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“Sherlock?” John’s inquiry was met with silence, and the streetlights continued to pass them at a steady pace. He tried again.
“... Sherlock?”
The man in question let out an absent-minded hum in answer.
“Why do you let them call you names?”
Sherlock let out another hum and said, “Well, Sherlock is my name, as you know. I'd be more concerned if they called me by any other name.”Series
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Panic.
Yes. That was what that feeling was. Sheer and utter panic. Sherlock didn’t understand why that was what his mind latched onto, but during this moment it was perhaps appropriate, considering how it was the scene of a bloody car crash, one that involved his best frie- boy friend: John.Series
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“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have got shot then,” John replied calmly, getting a Q-tip from the box that rested on the armrest by Sherlock. He continued to clean, noticing with satisfaction that the wound had stopped bleeding and that he was only cleaning the rest of it.
Sherlock sniffed with disdain as he glared down at the doctor that kneeled by his side. “I didn’t have much of a choice, John.”Series
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Mycroft had just dropped into 221B to check in on his dearest brother for no apparent reason as always, coming in at least twice a month. When John wasn’t there, they’d be playing games, and for some reason, Operation had been chosen as the challenge. Unfortunately for the youngest, there’d be conversation.
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