By: IntoTheSkyUntil

The first time he kissed John Watson it was entirely by accident, or so he tells himself.

It had happened on a Friday night, they had been watching an old movie on the telly, and it had been on the end of what John had fairly labeled “a three day sulk fest” a week after their latest case.  He had been sulking about—what exactly?  He had been sulking about the fact that he still didn’t know how to tell John that yes indeed, he was in love with him.  He had known it for a while, or rather he had suspected it for a while, but it wasn’t until the culmination of their last case that he had actually felt it.  It was such a simple act, they had been waiting in one of the briefing rooms at New Scotland Yard to debrief Lestrade on their latest case and Sherlock, having slept just barely over the last week from the excitement, had fallen sound asleep at the table while waiting.  After an indeterminable amount of time, upon Lestrade’s inevitably late entrance, Sherlock had awoken with a start only to perplexingly find a fresh cup of coffee (black, two sugars) resting near his elbow.  He had looked over at John who had simply continued to read the case report it was then and only then that he realized just how devastatingly deep he had fallen.  He loved him.

But that day was not the first time that he kissed John Watson, even though he wanted to more than anything else in the world. 

Rated Teen and Up, 2995 Words.

By: round_robin

The anger inside of John boiled higher as he watched Sherlock sway on his feet. Lestrade had his arm around the detective—steadying him—as he walked them up to the office. “Just a few reports need your signature as a consultant. Because it was such a long case, but you know how it goes.”

“Mmm,” Sherlock nodded, eyes barely staying open as Lestrade guided him up the stairs.

Yes, John thought. It really was a long fucking case.

It started two weeks ago. Actually, sixteen days. Sixteen days ago, Sherlock took this stupid case. The case that sent them across London—twice daily—and down to Cardiff. Four fucking times. The case itself wasn’t even that complicated (or memorable) things were just so damn confusing.

It was a simple insurance fraud case. Plus seventeen different beneficiaries, all claiming single inheritance. Plus eight different versions of the will (three forged). Plus three different law firms handling the eight versions of the will. Plus two of the beneficiaries hiring their own private detectives to refute Sherlock’s findings, and one beneficiary hiring a gang of thugs to beat the information out of Sherlock. It was the very definition of a clusterfuck.

But the worst part? Worse than the three hundred quid in taxis that Yard now had to reimburse them for. Worse than the two cases against Sherlock and John for unlawful search, and stalking. No. Those were fine. If that was all they had to deal with, John would walk naked through the streets, singing with joy at the top of his lungs. Anything but this. Anything but the fact that during those sixteen days (sixteen days, nine hours, forty minutes) Sherlock had neither slept nor ate.

Well, he slept just enough to keep himself running—which still wasn’t enough, barely three hours of every twenty-four—but the eating. That was the big concern.

John and Sherlock are on a case, and usually their cases have a three day turn around.  This time, however, it takes over two weeks.  Over two weeks in which Sherlock wastes away, not realizing how intensely ill he has become due to lack of sleep and malnourishment.  This fic has everything!  BAMF!John (at least in the beginning), Doctor!John, fluff, smut, slash, angst.

Rated Mature, 5485 Words.

By: Ryssabeth

Sherlock always walks ahead, brisk and confident, even though he was dead. But now he’s not. He’s still pretentious and useful and alive.

But John reaches for his sleeve anyway, tugging on it once to make sure that is most certainly attached to a solid, real, living person. Sherlock doesn’t pull his arm away, doesn’t even acknowledge John’s new neurosis, just keeps walking with his arm slightly behind him, the sleeve caught between John’s thumb and forefinger.

Very sweet fic that just tore my heart out and put it back together.  Just so fluffy that I couldn’t even stand it.  Very brief barely-even-there angst.  Short, but poignant.

Rated General Audiences, 542 Words.