Fuck Yeah Sherlock Fanfiction!

femslash

Pairing: Molly/Anthea. 

NC-17

Pretty much pure porn.

NC-17. 

Sherlock is a slave. John wins him in a poker game.

Not as quite as disturbing as it sounds.

Summary: John never has been a very good liar. Cute, Short. 

NC-17

Warning: Character Death

Warning: Angst.

“The lights went out. It wasn’t a simple power outage, no; someone deliberately turned them off. The whole warehouse went dark, and suddenly the boxes looked like shadows on the brick walls. Even the slightest noises seemed human. Sherlock and John were stuck in the middle of the building, searching for some clues as to where their suspect was hiding. But everywhere they turned, another man would shoot at their bodies, causing them to dodge the falling boxes.

John was more skilled in the art. He had seen the battlefield and experienced Hell in pitch black. He could focus on the noises and know what direction the men were lying. Some were higher up than others, sitting on top of boxes and bars that held the lights up. Others were on the ground, scoping out shots in order to kill either man.

Sherlock, on the other hand, tried his best to stay calm. He was not one to panic under severe stress, because he had been in so many incidents like that, but he was not as skilled and prepared as John. He would look back, notice the movements John made in the dark, and he would try to mirror them. But they were stuck in one place, and they were doing no good. “John-“

“Sherlock, just stay with me, okay?” John harshly whispered. Sherlock could hear the panic in his voice, yet he had a calm demeanor. Sherlock hesitantly reached out for John’s hand, but John met him halfway. “I don’t want you dying on me,” Sherlock felt John squeeze his hand.”

Pairing: Mycroft/Lestrade.

“Whenever it rained, it poured entirely around him. He never was once hit by a raindrop, especially since the rain was part of their world, the world around him. It encompassed and encircled his life, but he hated it; he would rather stand under his umbrella and stay within the confines of his world. In his world, everything slowed down and sped up again, as if time had no meaning. All the details would be sprawled across the pavement, the walls, wherever he was, and he could tell a person their life story by the way their knuckles wrapped around their steering wheel. Then when he was done investigating, he would see the world back to normal.

People called him crazy for seeing such things. They saw nothing; they would never think for themselves. He would list everything in a matter of seconds about one car and how that car drove through the mountains maybe days ago, and the rest of the world would just stare down at him, wondering whether or not he was imagining things. But whenever a person walked up to him, everything slowed down, magnified, and he would know their story in one minute, maybe less. It was never more. When he was done talking the long speech that followed his investigation, the people would never approach him again; they were offended that he knew about their life more than they knew about it themselves.

This was the life of little Mycroft Holmes.”

Summary: For once, John wishes Sherlock would stop eating.

Another it gets better, centering on John and Sherlock.

Very cute, and very sweet.

Summary:  ”There, that’s it, perfect, shut your eyes and don’t move - and don’t speak.”

Word Count:3000

Summary: John has a bit of a thing for Sherlock’s voice. Sherlock tells John explicitly what hes going to do to him.

‘John, what are we doing for dinner?’ Sherlock called from downstairs. John had left him in his usual position, prone on the sofa, John’s computer on his chest, ten minutes ago.

‘Uh,’ John said, frowning and rolling his t-shirt down over his stomach. ‘I’m not really hungry, beans on toast?’

There weren’t many calories in beans on toast, were there? And they had those enormous tins of beans from that time John had done the Tesco order online and hadn’t been able to picture what 750 gram tins looked or felt like. Turns out that 750 grams was much more than John was expecting. He was even half-hoping that Sherlock would do an experiment with the bloody things, they were taking up far too much room in the cupboard.”