May 29: Holiday

for @calaisreno

“Are you sure we can afford to go away?” John asked, worry in his voice though he was nearly finished stuffing the last of his essentials into his duffel. “With everything…”

Sherlock waved him off with a grin. “It’s only for a few days,” he reassured, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “Besides, the last thing Moriarty would expect from us is to spend a bank holiday weekend in Wales.” He zipped his own bag shut. “And,” he addressed John’s concern seriously now, holding his eyes with his. “It will give me time to share the plan with you,” he revealed. “Mycroft calls it the ‘Lazarus Protocol,’” he rolled his eyes and made John laugh, a sound he loved. “So dramatic.”

Sherlock always knew how to help John see the silver lining in things, and he was glad of it. “The Lazarus Protocol, eh?” He sat in his chair, packing complete. “What were the other options?”

“For the plan, or the name of the plan?”

“The name, Sherlock.”

“You don’t want to know.”

Again, John cracked a wry smile; poking fun at Mycroft, with all his power and stoicism, had become as delightful a pastime to him as it had been for Sherlock. “Sherlock, in all seriousness,” John pressed, “are we going to be alright?” His eyes betrayed worry, unable to mask it in the moment. “Moriarty is the most formidable antagonist you’ve dealt with, and I– I don’t want you to get hurt.” He curled his arm around Sherlock’s slim middle. “I can’t lose you.”

Sherlock’s countenance softened, and he snaked a finger through one of John’s belt loops, bringing him close. “Do you trust me, John?” He asked, voice impossibly smooth.

John nodded, eyes affixed to Sherlock’s.

“Then let me tell you about the grand plan, so there’s no more room for worries.”

“Alright, Sherlock, your way,” John leaned in, kissing him slowly. “Always your way.”

tagging: @johnwatso @lisbeth-kk @elwinglyre @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @bertytravelsfar @momma2boys @jrow @helloliriels @the-reading-lemon @totallysilvergirl @gregorovitchworld @catlock-holmes @peanitbear @sarahthecoat @edwardallenpoe @john-smiths-jawline @escaroles @ella-doe @jobooksncoffee @inevitably-johnlocked @loki-lock @undefined-lines @lovelenivy @mxster-jocale @jameshavinganxiety @missdeliadili@sabrinash221b @cheekbonesofbenny @beesholmes

Surprise

Sherlock shoves his hands in his pockets. His leather gloves may be stylish, but they are doing nothing to protect his fingers from the January chill. He quickens his pace, pushing past a few infuriatingly slow pedestrians before he finally makes it to the tube station. But getting inside doesn’t improve his mood in the slightest. It’s loud and stifling and Sherlock finds himself regretting even getting out of bed this morning.

 He could just turn around and go home. He doesn’t have to pick up Rosie at school today. He could text John and say something came up and it would be fine. Sure, Sherlock usually picks up Rosie on Tuesdays, but John has the day off since he had to cover that shift unexpectedly last Saturday. John could easily get his daughter and Sherlock could go home and do some experiments. Or just crawl back into bed away from everything and everyone.

It’s been a terrible day all around, although Sherlock isn’t exactly sure why. He’s been in a mood since he got up this morning, from the moment he checked his mobile and saw that he didn’t have any messages from John. Sherlock hadn’t assumed John would spend the whole day with him, but he thought he’d at least get a message.

Sherlock feels his mobile vibrating and pulls it out immediately.

I’ll collect Rosie today. Thx. J

“Fine,” Sherlock says out loud, shoving his mobile back into his pocket with far more force then necessary. He scowls and turns around to head to the exit. Apparently he’ll be going home after all.

Keep reading

The last day

The colour reminds me of the two people I loved more than anything. They wore it quite differently. Our landlady, Mrs. Hudson had a fondness for a more bright hue, while my dear Holmes found a more subtle nuance to fit him. That is to say, he didn’t find out before I bought him that purple dressing gown on our first Christmas here in Sussex.

«My dear boy. This shall be my most treasured item of clothing for the remain of my days,» he said and kissed me tenderly on my forehead.

He admired his attire in the mirror of our bedroom, sliding his large delicate hands over the fabric.

«It’s a good colour on you,» I said with admiration.

«Quite. And to think that I’ve lived this long without knowing it. My dear, John, after all these years you still have the ability to surprise me,» Sherlock murmured and hugged me tight, before finding my waiting lips.

Both of them are gone now, and although I know, as a doctor that it’s impossible, I am slowly dying of heartbreak an longing for my beloved Sherlock Holmes. His bees are missing him too. They are behaving differently at least. I have of course made arrangements for them, to be taken care of.

I am so, so tired tonight. Lying in our bed alone is something I can’t get used to. It is a cold night and I am surrounded by the scent of my sweetheart. The purple dressing gown is wrapped close around me, still bearing a hint of Sherlock’s uniqe aroma. My eyes close and just before I fall asleep, I see my dear Sherlock standing in front of me, his arms outstretched, wearing the purple garment.

«Come, John. I’ve missed you, my dearest,» he says, and seconds later I have him in my arms again.

@totallysilvergirl @topsyturvy-turtely

why are you all making me cry today??