Posts tagged Johnlock
Posts tagged Johnlock
Word Count: 292
Inspiration: One Word Prompts, word given by: Notyourhouse-elf
Warnings: Jealous/Possessive Sherlock. Annoyed John
Rating: E is for Everyone.
Title: Bed Time Stories: Aladdin
Word Count: 501
Inspiration: Conversation with a friend about John telling Sherlock the story of Aladdin before bed.
Warnings: Copious amounts of fluff.
Rating: E is for Everyone.
Title: Wonder Why
Word Count: 560
Inspiration: Wonder Why You Want Her - Gotye
Warnings: Light sexual content; UST
Rating: Be discreet.
Title: It’s Cold Outside (Also Know As: John is a cheating whore, but Angela says it’s okay because it’s Sherlock.) (I agree.)
Word Count: 537
Inspiration: This Song
Warnings: John is a cheating whore; bit of kissing; I used the word whore three times in this introduction.
Rating: Reasonably safe for work
Title: Husbands (Also Known As: Angela’s Heart in a Blender)
Prompt (One-word prompt challenges): Husbands
Word Count: 296
Warnings: Drug use; Kissing; Unrequited feelings
A Chemical Analysis of Love and the Mechanics Thereof 3/4: Attachment (Part A)
Word Count: 2,153
Warnings: Talks of sex and masturbation, bit of kissing thrown in there, possessive language, mentions of drug use, relationship established in Stage 2, Sherlock’s P.O.V., Science
A Chemical Analysis of Love and the Mechanics Thereof 2/3: Attraction
Word Count: 2,662
Warnings: Science, bit of kissing, Pissed off!John, Pissed off!Sherlock, Quite a bit of fluffy stuff, mentions of drug abuse.
Love is not magic.
It takes anywhere from ninety seconds to four minutes for your brain to decide if you fancy someone. Fifty-five percent of that attraction is based on body-language, thirty-eight based on tone and speed of their voice, only seven percent is based on what they actually say. Love is not magic, it’s science. There are three stages:
Lust, stage one; driven by the sex hormones testosterone and oestrogen, in both men and women. Webster’s describes it as lust [luhst] noun 1. Intense sexual desire or appetite; 2. Uncontrolled or illicit sexual desire or appetite; lecherousness; 3. A passionate or overmastering desire or craving (usually followed by for): a lust for power; 4. Ardent enthusiasm; zest; relish; an enviable lust for life; 5. Obsolete: a. Pleasure or delight; b. Desire; inclination; wish.
I have a very strong inclination towards John. Upon our first meeting it took two minutes for my mind to decide that and inform my body; five minutes to suppress the desire to take him right there on the exam table, audience be damned.
Instinctual reaction when meeting someone new is to ask two questions (not consciously): Prey or mate? I would later muse over what my triune brain had considered. Prey? No, not prey. Potential mate, then? Possibility. Mutual interest? Extended eye contact; either wants to have sex or to kill me. No other signs of aggression. Mutual interest confirmed. Insistence later that he wasn’t interested in men. Doesn’t matter-most likely a self-delusion, anyways. Easy enough to think of it that way; preferable.
Word Count: 480
“You’re really going out like that?” Sherlock had been lounging in relative silence all day, having been overcome by one of his brooding moods. Having seen no end in sight to it, I had made dinner arrangements with Sarah. Apparently, that was all it took to catch his attention-I’d have to remember that.
“Well, yes, that was the plan,” I replied, pausing in putting on my coat. He made a soft sound, a sound of dismissal. But it wasn’t. He wanted me to ask ‘Why?’ “Why?” His lips twitched. It was as much a smile as his current torpidity would allow.
“You don’t look right.” I looked down at myself. Shoes-practical, perhaps a little dressy; trousers-slacks, a light grey; black belt; striped jumper over a white button down. I didn’t look right?
It struck me after a moment, a moment long enough to have Sherlock sighing; the jumper. It was new, not one that Sherlock had seen me in before-a gift from Sarah. “You don’t like my jumper.”
“It makes you resemble a pumpkin.” The jumper had an assortment of differently coloured stripes, none of which even remotely resembled the colour of a pumpkin. I told him thus.
He snorted and waved a hand in my direction. “Then it is a mystery far beyond my capabilities as to how you’ve managed it. However, the manner still stands that you look like a pumpkin. That thing is atrocious.”
“This ‘thing’ was a gift.”
“From Sarah, yes, I know.” He didn’t sound very impressed. “She has horrible tastes. Put something else on.”
I bristled at his tone and his insufferable habit of ordering me about. “I will not.”
He let out a laugh. It was becoming clear that his interest in picking apart my wardrobe was overcoming any laziness. “Yes you will. You hate the jumper as much as I do, more so. It’s itchy, uncomfortable; the collar is too close to your neck, not one that you would normally choose for yourself, it makes you feel enclosed.” I said nothing, I didn’t have to. He was right, he was always right. Infuriating. “You walked down the stairs slowly, before putting your coat on with less hurry than you normally do. You clearly wanted me to see the jumper and develop an opinion on it. You knew what my opinion would be, and yet you waited to hear it anyways. You want me to tell you to take it off, unable to get past your own sense of morals-or whatever is compelling you to wear it-to do it yourself.
“Take it off. If you don’t, I will get up and spill something horrible on it. Do what I ask and no harm will come to it.”
I went back upstairs and changed before leaving for my date. I knew the jumper wouldn’t be there when I got home. Sherlock would make sure.