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YOU GET THE FUCK BACK HERE AND EXPLAIN THAT RIGHT NOW
well damn
FULL MOUNT
by ArwaMachine
A Fandom Trumps Hate fic for @mon221b!
Chapters: 10/10
Rating: Explicit
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Summary: After Sherlock unceremoniously returns from the dead, John finds himself inexplicably angry all the time. So he does what any emotionally-constipated British man does: he joins a Mixed Martial Arts gym. As John throws himself into the sport and joins in on underground no-holds-barred brawls, situations arise that just might force John to face what is really going on underneath all the rage.
ALL CHAPTERS NOW POSTED!
Read chapter 9 and chapter 10 now! Or start from the beginning!
(and please check out @safedistancefrombeingsmart's awesome photomanip of MMA!John here)
Locked Room by Calais Reno
Summary: John wakes up in a locked room, unable to remember how he got here. The last thing he remembers is his hands covered in blood, trying to keep a soldier from dying. His roommate also seems to be suffering from amnesia, and has decided that John is a delusion.
Excerpt:
“Where the hell am I?”
“Not Afghanistan,” John replies. “But if we’re in London, I don’t remember being transported here. I must have been out for days.”
“No, it’s much simpler,” Sherlock says. “You’re a delusion.”
“A self-aware delusion?”
“Exactly the type of delusion my mind would supply.” He slumps down on the bed. “Now, if you’ll just shut up, I’m going to pass out again, take advantage of oblivion, however temporary. No doubt things will be worse when I finally come out of it.”
CW: near-death experiences
I promise this will have the happiest of endings!
Thank you to all my readers this year for your kudos, comments, and reblogs!
Tagging:
@lisbeth-kk @totallysilvergirl @mydogwatson @chinike @peanitbear @ninasnakie @lhrinchelsea @sentimentalfuturist @loves-to-read-fanfic @lilithcroft @demonicangeling @copperplatebeech @kettykika78 @thetimemoves @raina-at @lololollywrites @starrla89 @grace-in-the-wilderness @discordantwords @mxster-jocale @keirgreeneyes @loveismyrevolution @missdeliadili @itzmi @iamjustreading @7-percent @thegildedbee
December moments
Prompts used in this chapter: last night - New Year
Sherlock thinks back on the year that’s soon to be history. Has this been his best year, or was it the year he met John for the first time, or when he got a puppy for his birthday, or when Mycroft read Treasure Island to him for the first time? Let’s find out what he decides.
December 31
Falling asleep in John’s arms, has become Sherlock’s favourite thing. Correction: one of his favourite things. The list is an ongoing project and will most likely never get finished. John’s a source of constant surprise, which leaves Sherlock breathless and excited. Never in his life has anybody made him feel this vibrant, alive, loved and cherished.
Sherlock looks down at John’s hand that rests protectively over Sherlock’s heart. The late morning light makes it possible to see the gold ring on John’s finger. It’s almost glowing, and for the first time since Sherlock put it there, he wishes he had thought of buying himself one too.
Why hadn’t he?
Because he never in his life has worn anything but a watch. A ring seemed to be unnecessary at the time of his purchase. He just needed John to wear one as a proof that he was Sherlock’s.
But what if John feels the same?
Sherlock decides to go out to buy a ring for himself as soon as the jeweller opens after New Year.
***
He doesn’t cook very often but they have planned this for a few days, staying at home on this last day of their first year as lovers, and Sherlock wants it to be a day to remember. They’ve decided on turkey breast served with Hasselback potatoes, haricot verts sauteed with almonds and a cream-based orange sauce. Two bottles of Chenin Blanc from Loire are already placed in the fridge. The fruitcake Sherlock made earlier that month will be a perfect finale to the meal.
John has set the table and comes up behind Sherlock, circling his arms around Sherlock’s waist, resting his head between the shoulder blades, sighing contented.
“Thanks for doing this, love. Making the year’s last night into a feast,” he murmurs.
Sherlock leans back, nudging John to press in closer. All his nerve endings are tingling by the contact.
How is John able to do that with just caressing him like this?
“Witchcraft,” Sherlock mutters under his breath.
John just chuckles and presses an open-mouthed kiss to Sherlock’s exposed neck. A jolt of desire shoots down his spine, stirring his penis.
“Hold that thought,” John whispers against his flushed skin, letting his hands run up Sherlock’s flanks.
When John lets go, Sherlock feels bereft, and his legs feel too weak to carry him. The anticipation of what awaits him once they’ve eaten, makes him lick his dry lips.
***
“You should cook more often. That was fantastic!” John exclaims after he’s eaten his fair share of the meal Sherlock’s prepared.
Sherlock just hums, feeling deliciously light-headed after too much wine. Through dinner, he’s pondered if this has been the best year of his life. It should be easy to answer yes, but what about the year he got the puppy, or when he discovered pirate stories from Mycroft’s reading? Sure, those years had been wonderful, but they couldn’t compare to this year. Only one year came close, and he realises he’s nowhere near a conclusion. It has to be a tie between the two most significant years he’s ever experienced; the year he met John and the year they became lovers. They could after all not have existed without the other.
He startles when he feels fingers carding through his hair, and John straddling him. His hands automatically find John’s hips, holding him in place.
“What’s on your mind, sweetheart? You’ve been quiet for almost ten minutes,” John says in a soft voice.
Sherlock clasps his hands around the small of John’s back and pulls him closer so he can reach John’s neck and nuzzle into it. John continues to pet his hair, and it’s utter bliss.
“John,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on John’s jaw. “I just pondered a serious question.”
“Okay. Which question?” John inquires, not for a second stopping his ministrations to Sherlock’s head.
“God, John,” Sherlock moans with closed eyes leaning into John’s touch. “I love when you do that.”
“I know. That’s why I do it,” John says fondly and bends down to kiss Sherlock’s forehead.
Sherlock finally answers John, and his blue eyes fill with tears when Sherlock explains that it’s impossible to choose between the year they met and this year.
“How is it possible for me to love you more than I already do?” John asks.
It’s a rhetorical question, which becomes clear when John only seconds later cups Sherlock’s face and kisses him so tenderly it almost hurts.
***
Neither of them wanted to go out to witness the fireworks. It’s after all widely displayed on the telly if they feel the urge to watch it.
The fruitcake turned out just as Sherlock had expected, and John’s praise made him blush slightly, which John for some reason adored.
John had insisted they clean up the kitchen before settling into their chairs by the fireplace. Sherlock had acquiesced, mostly because John did the dishes and Sherlock got to distract him, biting and licking at John’s lovely neck. In the end, John had intervened.
“My darling, Sherlock. I can’t get a thing done when your gorgeous lips are marking me like that. The faster I finish, the faster we can go back to kissing. Light the fire, play for me, or put on some music or the telly, but get out of the kitchen for ten minutes, or…”
Sherlock stopped this ridiculous string of words effectively with his mouth plastered to John’s, pressing John toward the counter. Strong hands gripped his upper arms, pushed him away, turned him to face the sitting room, and one palm swatted his arse teasingly.
“Do as you’re told, soldier,” John snarled.
Sherlock immediately straightened and walked to the fireplace, daring a look over his shoulder before crouching down at the hearth. John was watching him with narrowed eyes, his arms akimbo and his weight equally distributed on both feet.
His captain!
In record time he got the fire burning, not without his hands trembling both from John’s reprimand and his own expectations of what was to come when John had finished in the kitchen.
Sherlock had been so lost in his thoughts and almost jumped up to standing when John called his name beside him. He looked up at John from under his lashes, careful not to be cheeky, but John’s eyes were soft.
“Come here,” John crooned, and Sherlock rose gracefully to his feet.
His heart did something funny in his chest by the tone of John’s voice and the look in his eyes. John took him in his arms, kissed his lips while cupping his face.
***
Outside people were gathering with cheerful and drunken voices, ready to watch the sky being filled with colourful fireworks.
Inside 221B a certain doctor surprised his detective for the last time that year by bringing Sherlock’s left hand to his lips kissing the knuckles before sliding a golden ring onto his ring finger.
@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @safedistancefrombeingsmart @raina-at @sabsi221b @gregorovitchworld @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear @helloliriels
Thank you for all you support through this month and 2023. It means the world! A special thanks to the remarkable @totallysilvergirl for, without knowing it, made me consider writing a story for each day of the month, and now I'm apparently doing the days until Epiphany as well, but that's another story altogether... See you tomorrow! In the mean time, Happy New Year <3
gothiethefairy
