13 years of Sherlock
30th October is my Sherlock Day on which I watched the series for the first time (back in 2010).
By now I’ve produced over a thousand pieces of fanart, over a million words of fanfic, two hand sewn Sherlock coats, many trips to the UK for Sherlock related events including cosplay sessions, there’s a graphic novel coming up … the list goes on, and I’m still not done with the boys and their world.
I’ve made many friends in the Sherlock fandom, and would like to thank all the brilliant fanfic authors whose works have inspired many of the artworks above (you can find all my fanfic illustrations at my #fanfic tag, and all artworks at my #drawing tag, and those fics I particularly liked at my AO3 bookmarks), my fellow fanartists who constantly make me want to improve because they’re so good, the faithful readers who leave comments and kudos, and all my followers here and on Twitter for their support.
Those who have been following me for a while know the drill. To celebrate, I’m doing a giveaway for my followers on Tumblr, Twitter, Bluesky and Wordpress, running from today until 6th November 2023, 22h GMT:
there will be two winners, picked randomly, who each may choose a Sherlock inspired item from my Storenvy shop
you must be following me and reblog/retweet this post
no giveaway blogs, I will check
I will ship to most places. Please ask if you’re not sure if this applies to your country as well. Some countries are more difficult than others to ship fannish items to, especially if those items have queer content. You must be comfortable with giving me your shipping address and a name that corresponds with whatever ID you use to fetch items from your post office – I’m adding this because I had issues in the past with people giving fandom names and then being unable to pick up their parcels because postal employees rightly insisted on matching names.
Between today, 30th October 2023, and 6th November 2023 there is also FREE SHIPPING FOR ALL ITEMS IN MY SHOP.
Good luck, and thank you.
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May 15 prompt: green (thanks for the tag @calaisreno @raina-at
Cherished moments
The winter’s been horrible for both of them. For Sherlock it started in January. He finally managed to get covid now that the pandemic’s almost over.
Once he’d recovered, it was John’s turn. Working his arse off at the hospital for the last two years without catching the virus, was nothing but a miracle. John’s the world’s worst patient, but luckily it didn’t last as long as Sherlock’s illness. Small blessings.
Not being able to travel or do anything remotely interesting for what feels like decades, Sherlock’s decided to whisk John away for their fifth wedding anniversary. They haven’t celebrated much over the years, just a nice dinner followed by a classical concert. Sherlock always decides where to dine, while John picks the concert. It’s a win-win situation.
***
Sherlock’s sits at the desk when John comes home.
“Ah, John! Just the one,” Sherlock exclaims.
“Hello, gorgeous,” John smiles and kisses the top of Sherlock’s head.
Sherlock makes room for John to climb onto his lap for a proper snog.
“What are you up to?” John asks, a bit breathless.
“A surprise. Can you take some days off the week after next? Say Monday until Thursday,” Sherlock inquires.
“A surprise, eh? Well, I’ve worked up some goodwill I think, so that should be fine,” John says, massaging Sherlock’s scalp.
Sherlock closes his eyes and purrs with delight.
“Sounds like a jaguar again,” John murmurs and sucks at Sherlock’s bottom lip, which elicits another purr.
John sits back a little, stroking Sherlock’s shoulders and down his arms.
“So, my beautiful husband. Does this surprise has anything to do with our wedding anniversary?”
“My clever husband,” Sherlock smirks.
“Can I decide anything, or is it only you this year?” John inquires.
“Only me. For now,” Sherlock states lazily, reaches out for John and pulls him in for a deep kiss.
***
Despite the tediousness of the last week, it’s all worth it when John realises they’re going on a private plane. Working for Mycroft on occasion has its benefits, Sherlock admits.
“Gosh, this really is a lovely way to travel,” John sighs contended and reaches out for Sherlock’s hand.
“Indeed,” Sherlock agrees.
“Are you going to tell me where your taking me, then?” John asks, lacing his fingers with Sherlock’s.
“It has many names. The city of clichés. The city of love. The most romantic city in the world, cover most of it, I think.”
“Are you serious? We’re going to Paris?”
John beams at Sherlock and Sherlock can’t resist the urge to lean in and kiss John softly.
“We are,” he whispers in John’s ear. “I’ve…um…borrowed Mycroft’s card when I made the hotel reservation. Hôtel de l´Abbaye in Saint-Germain-Des-Prés. It’s a suite, obviously, two floors with a balcony overseeing the famous green garden. Looks quite promising on the web site.”
“You are amazing,” John breathes and cups Sherlock’s face, tracing both thumbs over his cheekbones.
Sherlock leans into John’s touch when John moves his hands to pull Sherlock’s hair just the way he loves it. He moans and closes his eyes.
“My marvellous John,” he murmurs.
***
A black car waits on the tarmac. As they descend the stairs from the plane, a chauffeur emerges in full uniform.
“Bonsoir, messieurs,” the man greets them.
John knows Sherlock’s fluent in French, and John knows a few phrases himself, but he’s never got the pronunciation quite right. He’ll lean on Sherlock for that. Besides, he loves hearing Sherlock speaking foreign languages, French in particular.
They sit like besotted teenagers in the back seat of the car, fingers interlaced, thighs pressing against the other, alternately looking out the windows and exchanging soft kisses.
Once they arrive at the hotel, John’s a bit dazed. It’s almost like he’s participating in a romantic film. Sherlock behaves like a proper Frenchman, with gesturing hands, flawless language, bespoke suit and grace like a dancer. John just stares at him with awe. It’s similar to his behaviour at crime scenes, but also completely different. There’s no one who calls him names or glares at him with contempt.
The photos from the web site didn’t lie. Their suite’s exquisite and luxurious. John walks around to survey the spacious room.
“I’ve ordered room service,” Sherlock calls from downstairs.
“Perfect,” John retorts and opens the door to the balcony.
The temperature is still quite comfortable, and the air smells of lavender. John sighs happily and startles a bit when familiar arms caress him.
“I didn’t mean to spook you, John,” Sherlock says quietly and kisses his temple.
“It’s fine, love. I was just a bit lost in thought. This is…er…I…”
John turns in Sherlock’s arms and looks at him with shiny eyes. Sherlock cocks an eyebrow at him, silently asking if everything’s all right.
“Got a bit overwhelmed,” John says sheepishly. “I’ve always wanted to go to Paris, you know. You making my dream come through just hit me, and this beautiful place is perfect. Being here with you is perfect. Thank you.”
Their lips meet and John whimpers desperate, grabbing Sherlock’s plush arse while sucking at his bottom lip, then moving his lips to the long neck.
“How much time do we have before the food arrives,” John asks hoarsely.
“Enough,” Sherlock pants and pulls John tighter.
***
They have breakfast on the balcony. The morning is warm, and it’s partly clouded. A perfect day for exploring the city.
To John’s surprise Sherlock concurs to take a trip with a double decker bus. John wants to see all the famous sites but doesn’t want to spend all day walking long distances or taking the metro. They sit in the back at the top of the bus, which is only half full. Between sites, Sherlock deduces the other passengers to John’s amusement.
A few metres from the bus stop, a familiar car waits for them. John sends Sherlock a quizzical look.
“Patience,” Sherlock mutters, grabs John’s hand and steers him toward the car.
The chauffeur, Antoine, clearly knows where they’re headed. John’s too happy to bother pestering Sherlock about their destination. Instead he leans his head against Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock puts an arm around him, and they sit in companionable silence until the car stops.
Sherlock leaps out of the car and heads for the boot. He hands a large blanket to John and takes a picnic basket from Antoine.
“Merci beaucoup,” Sherlock says and gestures for John to walk into the park.
Square de Batignolles is a peaceful oasis. They find a secluded space in the shadows. John spreads out the blanket on the lawn and Sherlock opens the basket, which is filled to the brim with delicacies. Different cheeses, cured meat, baguettes, marmalade, croissants, fruit, a bottle of red wine, glasses and two pieces of cake.
They lie down when they’ve devoured the food, and John props himself up on an elbow, looking down at Sherlock.
“You’re eyes are so green today,” John says.
“Just mirroring the leaves above us, John,” Sherlock explains.
“Nope. They’ve been like that all day,” John retorts stubbornly.
“Well, I’ll have to take you to “Le Train Bleu” tonight just to prove you wrong then,” Sherlock teases.
He reaches for John’s hand and kisses the palm tenderly.
“Happy Anniversary, John.”
“Happy Anniversary, my love,” John says, lifts Sherlock’s hand to his mouth and mirrors Sherlock’s act.
On this date 24 years ago I got married, so it had to be a wedding anniversary for the boys as well.
@notjustamumj @totallysilvergirl @missdeliadili @topsyturvy-turtely @meetinginsamarra
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