hey, could you maybe repost your list of virgin-sherlock fics? and which ones would you recommend especially. thank you.:)
Hi Nonny! I’m actually currently going through my recs because I knew that this would come up one day! Here’s what I have on it so far; I’ll star my personal faves that you MUST read!
Gigantic by BubbleGumLizard (E, 2,135 w. || PWP, Size Kink) – John seems to avoid Sherlock seeing him naked. Sherlock wants to fix that. This is porn. Part 19 of Mystrade NaNoWriMo 2015
What He’s Like by magikspell (E, 2,919 w. || Love Confessions, Fluff, First Time, Inexperienced Sherlock) – Realistic first time. They love each other so much. [FAVE!]
Affirmation by jamlockk (E, 3,096 w. || First Time, Dev. Rel., PWP, Love Declarations, Emotional Sherlock, Comforting John, Gross Fluff) – “Sunlight dappled John’s skin, casting a glow across his spreadeagled form as he dozed among the rumpled sheets. Sherlock knew the expression on his face was hopelessly soft but for once did not care about showing his true feelings so openly. He simply stood there, in the doorway, gazing at the impossibly beautiful man currently snuffling softly in his slumber.“ Part 8 of All the ways we love
Well Begun Is Half Done by Avice (E, 3,897 w. || Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Anal/Oral, Seduction, John in Charge, Pining Sherlock, John’s Penis, Bottomlock) – Sherlock is putting together an elaborate plan of seducing John. John grows tired of waiting and takes matters into his own hands.
One Day Like This by nondeducible (E, 4,872 w. || First Time, Bed-Sharing, Romance, Fluff, Virgin Sherlock) – When Sherlock emerged from the bathroom, the sight before him nearly took his breath away. The only light in the room was the small lamp on the bedside table. John’s skin shone like gold, his hair like the purest silver. He was on his side, facing the empty part of the bed, his outstretched hands ready to embrace whoever climbed in next to him. Sherlock could imagine, just for a second, that this was their shared bed and he was coming back to settle into John’s arms.
A Study in Intimacy by doodle (T, 5,183 w.|| First Time, Romance, Virginity, First Kiss) – People don’t touch Sherlock Holmes, not like they touch other people. Then he meets John Watson.
Strings by EstherShapiro (E, 5,267 w. || Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Massage, Friends to Lovers, Fingering, Anal, PWP) – Sherlock wakes his doctor up. Was this weird? John was sitting on his bed, late at night, rubbing his hands over another man’s body? That was supposed to be weird, right? Then again, this wasn’t just some man, it was Sherlock. They were so used to each other that John didn’t even think to question it. It wasn’t weird.
Tease You Till You Come by phoenix089 (E, 6,090 w. || First Time, Clueless Sherlock, Texting) – Initially, Sherlock was rather put out by John’s lack of presence on the case. But then he starts to recieve pictures, several of them, of an unexpected nature. The case is forgotten rather quickly after that.
The Effect of Memory by testosterone_tea (E, 6,430 || Praise Kink, First Kiss / Time, Fluff, Smut, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Confused Sherlock) – John has temporary amnesia coming off of anaesthesia after an operation and not only does he not recognize Sherlock, he starts flirting with him! After John recovers, he doesn’t remember the incident at all. But Sherlock does. Confusion ensues.
Inside by magikspell (E, 6,757 w. || Loss of Virginity, Anal / Rimming, Fluff, Humour, Awkwardness, Shy Sherlock, Bottomlock) – "Being inside someone. Feeling someone inside you.”
The space between by Salambo06 (E, 6,830 w. || PWP, Friends to Lovers, Masturbation, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Miscommunications, Bottom Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Sexual Fantasy) – “It’s for a case,” Sherlock says as soon as John looks down at his computer. John remains silent for a long moment, eyes moving from the screen to Sherlock, before saying, “You don’t have to explain.” His voice is low, too low, and Sherlock looks at the computer, putting the video on pause. “Lestrade asked me-, no, forced me to find out who’s threatening a famous porn star, and the suspect is among his co-stars, so I only need to watch out for any signs from his partners, anything that might show they’re the one sending those threats and I can move to something else.” “Right.”
Drive by lifeonmars (M, 9,537 w. || Virginity, Awkward First Times, Minor Injuries) – John and Sherlock are stranded by the roadside, and John is injured. They need to spend the night in the back of a humvee. Sherlock is confused. John is understanding. [FAVE!]
Paparazzi by SilentAuror (E, 10,543 w. || Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Post S3) – John moves back into 221B Baker Street after his marriage falls apart and the paparazzi won’t leave him and Sherlock alone about the status of their supposed relationship. Sherlock, of course, never denies it, until one day he does…
The Thin Line by Odamaki (M, 10,809 w. || Virgin Sherlock, Awkwardness, Confessions, First Times, Anal) – John swallows. Keeps his eyes on Sherlock. Begs him not to ruin him.Sherlock leans forward over the witness box ever-so slightly, “I was distracted,” he informs the court, “by my partner, John Watson.”
Praise Me by testosterone_tea (E, 11,813 w. || Sherlock POV, Bottomlock, Dev. Rel., Virgin Sherlock, First Kiss / TimeBJ’s, Anal, Praise Kink) – In which Sherlock has an interesting physical reaction to compliments and John discovers it.
Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Missing Christmas Spirit by SilentAuror (M, 15,002 w. || Christmas, Domesticity, Post S3, Happy Ending) – John hates Christmas. So does Sherlock, but he suggests that they do Christmas "properly” this year to see if they can’t track down its elusive magic and discover for themselves what Christmas is supposed to be about. [FAVE!!!]
In A Changing Age by allonsys_girl (E, 15,590 w. || Victorian AU, Virgin / Demi Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Mild H/C) – Sherlock wakes up in the 19th century, with no idea how he got there. [FAVE!]
For you, there’s only me by shock_blanket (E, 19,557 w. || Jealous Idiots, Virgin Sherlock, UST/RST, Pining, Miscommunication, First Kiss / Time, Insecure Sherlock, Masturbation) – Sherlock realizes he has fallen in love with John, but believes he is unlovable. Cue lots of pining and jealousy on Sherlock’s part, followed by our favorite cuddly marksman making it all better. Because for Sherlock, there’s only John. [FAVE!]
At the Heart of it All by SilentAuror (E, 19,812 w. || Virgin Sherlock, Post S3, POV John, Domestics, First Time, Kissing, Romance) – John has been back at Baker Street for four months now and thinks it’s about time they had the Talk to see whether or not they could be more than friends. Sherlock has a lot of uncertainty about this concept for multiple reasons. Unabashed romance.
Tomorrow’s Song by agirlsname (M, 24,645 w. || Post-TRF, POV Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin / Repressed Sherlock, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Pining) – How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?) [FAVE, MUST READ!]
State of Flux by Atiki (E, 24,655 w. || Sherlock POV, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Cuddles and Snuggles, Awkwardness, Insecure/Virgin Sherlock, Romance) – John’s marriage is over and he is finally back home (i.e. at Baker Street, where he belongs). Sherlock is awfully insecure and John is awfully hesitant, and they’re both awkward idiots, of course, but they figure it out. Many First Times happen. [FAVE!]
Bedtime Stories by Liketheriver (M, 34,388 w. || Emotional H/C, Romance, Angst & Humour, Bed Sharing, John First Person, TRF, John Whump) – John’s POV during Season 2 and beyond when Sherlock takes up semi-permanent residence in his bed. A collection of codas and missing scenes wrapped up into one long fic and topped with a bow that takes the story beyond Reichenbach and into happy territory once more. Part 1 of Bedtime Universe
The Wrong Wagon by DancingGrimm (E, 35,663 w. || Alternating POV, MollyxJohn [Molly pines for John], Public Sex, Casual Sex, Obliviousness, BAMF!John, Awkwardness, Angst & Humour, First Time, Virgin Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock) – Molly sees John in a new light and realises that she may have hitched her horse to the wrong wagon…or something like that. John pines for Sherlock and worries what he will think if he ever finds out. And Sherlock doesn’t know what Molly’s up to…but he knows he doesn’t like it.
A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him. [FAVE FAVE FAVE! MUST READ!!]
Spare Change by Ermerness (E, 51,966 w. || Rich Holmeses AU || First Kiss / Time, Holmes Family, Virgin Sherlock, Anal, First Meetings) – The Holmes family is one of the richest and most powerful in England. Sherlock spends his time flying around the world on the family’s private jet drinking a lot and shopping at expensive boutiques as a way of trying to alleviate his endless boredom. His mother decides it’s time he settles down with someone powerful, wealthy and well connected. John Watson happens to be none of those things.
The Moonlight and the Frost by CaitlinFairchild (E, 77,289 w. || Case Fic, Post-HLV, Self Harm, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Oral/Anal/Rimming, Romance, Angst, Mary is Not Nice) – John has to somehow rebuild his life in the wake of Mary’s betrayal and Sherlock’s deceptions.
The Quiet Man by ivyblossom (E, 157,369 w. || Post-TRF, John First POV, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Present Tense, Imaginary Sherlock) – “Do you just carry on talking when I’m away?”
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everything fits in the room (simone aughterlony & jen rosenblit)
What it’s made ends up being destroyed, over time, over choice, over exhaustion, through decay. Nothing stays still, no existence is eternal. We inhabit an ephemeral space of performance and performativity, we exist in a constant battle to assert the certainty of our present self whilst striving to fight for the importance of it’s temporal fluidity.
The work happens in an industrial warehouse space, in which a brick wall is built in the middle. The audience is free to wander, in between the materials - performers and objects -, being given the freedom to curate their own experience, to compose their own images and change their own presence in the space throughout the duration of the gathering/ritual/performance. Just as the kitchen/sound desk is moveable, like an island moving to find different coasts to attach itself to, so is the audience. Everything is changing, growing and disappearing. Time keeps passing and nothing stays static. To assume stability, or assume that some things are fixed, that some things are suspended somehow in space and time is to completely forget the inescapable nature of time-passing. But somehow here, in this both run-down and state of the art laboratory of scientists on acid, it’s like temporality has found a suspension, it’s as if time is comfortably balancing itself on top of the ruins left by an unforgivable late-capitalist hurricane. Time, sound, affect, bodies, wind - they’re all materials here, they can all be played, they can all be experimented with.
Everything is a material and everything can be used in strategies for world-making. Everything fits, It’s all allowed - like Deirdre Heddon and Dominic Johnson have titled their book on the works of British artist Adrien Howells, who was known for his intimate performances -. Everything fits in the room. Everything morphs into one, and at the same time retains it’s individuality whilst never losing the potential of morphing into something else again. Simone caresses, and touches, and grabs, and stitches, and clips Jen’s hair to the wall and to herself and to harnesses and to a grapefruit and to plants and bones and logs; to the (hu/wo/wy)manmade and to nature; Jen’s hair is a link, is a part of another material, a part of Jen but also a material in itself; it becomes individual through focus and through use - but as everything in this show, in this room, in this world - it is ephemeral, it is decaying, it is in it’s own journey of transformation, it becomes and un-becomes in its own non-linear process of temporality.
I catch Simone squeezing the juice of a grapefruit directly into Jen’s mouth and although hot and filled with unashamedly wild desire, it is also a break, it is slow or even still, it’s pure care and intimacy, it’s an image and a togetherness that isn’t afraid of existing at it’s own pace and in it’s own time. And everything else momentarily comes to a stop and we’re all breathing, and connecting to each other through the juice that’s dripping from that fruit. And I’m there in the middle, overstimulated, frenetically walking across the space, trying to find new places to position myself, new images to absorb, afraid of missing out on compositions my body and eyes could’ve unlocked. I’m unable to stay still, to remain stable, to trust the depth of what will come if I accept that even in my stillness everything around me is and will be in a constant infinitely changing movement, that being still can be as or more active and radical and transformative than moving with no aim, placing with no context.
Then Miguel and Colin stop playing and there’s a silence. We’re suspended again, just breathing. The island/kitchen/lab is on the other side of the room. They’re looking at each other and walking slightly away from their laptops and the sound desk. The sound that up until now has been electronically produced and mixed, is replaced by the openness of their mouths and vocal cords, a fully human made harmony. And I’m still there in the middle, surrounded by people that I was recently forced to renegotiate how to relate to, how to find togetherness with, how to preserve, to love, or move with them despite changes and despite distance. So I’m confronted with my own way of understanding community, and of acting togetherness; I’m confronted with the performativity of my openness and the body language of my honesty, with my emotional bursts and the impulsiveness of my life movements; I’m reminded of the different iterations of queer scenes I’ve experienced and at the sometimes so overtly exterior and exaggerated performance of emotion and care, in contrast with an incapability of allowing space for true and raw vulnerability.
I’m now the island floating in the middle of that warehouse that I’m sharing with so many people I’ve shared other warehouses with before, and I’m holding myself in the same position and in the same place,- I’m still - while I look at Jen becoming more and more acquainted to this log, and while I look at the log crossing and interacting with the pink, green and white neon lights in the wall behind them. But I can’t not think about how much I kept moving before, and I can’t not think of how much I always move and strive to move in general; and I think I regret, and I think of regret, or with regret. I think of how quickly I move as soon as I’m settling in some place where I allow myself to be vulnerable; as if I’m scared; like I’m not in touch or I don’t allow myself to be in touch with the multiplicity of my emotions and depth of being, I don’t allow myself to gather the different and contradictory parts of my fluid self - I’m just committed to a fragmented existence where I temporarily inhabit different parts of my identity on their own but I never allow myself the time, space and trust to let them exist together at the same time-. And I wonder how much of my ecstatic and fragmented existence comes from the polarity of my manic depression and how much it comes from the influence of quantity-driven and superficial capitalist paces of production and commodity. Then suddenly just like Colin I’m being sucked head first into the drain of my kitchen sink.
When our times, and our flawed structures and systems, found a way of taming and assimilating and attempt to eternalise performance by preserving its ephemeral nature - through archiving it in museums and institutions, through exhibiting their remains, through overanalysing and glorifying the mess they leave behind - Aughterlony and Rosenblit create a piece who cleans after itself, who understands the need for care: for one another, for art, for it’s materials, for the world but above of all for the moment and for the now, for ephemerality. They refuse displacement and futurity by facing the utopian possibilities of a queer now, the potentiality of diving into the dystopianism of domesticity and twist the programmed perspectives with which we approach it.
And by exhausting the use of domestic objects, by transforming their meaning, by covering our learnt behaviours with their shape, by intensifying the way we use them and the how we use them, we arrive at an exploration of nature, or wildness in it’s purest form(s), we arrive at an individual and collective togetherness that socialisation has taken away from us. We return to unlearned behaviours of relating that are given to us not by civilisation but by wildness, by the true core of our flesh. I was sat in HAU1 a couple of months ago listening to Jack Halberstam argue that in the face of a civilisation which has so clearly failed us, our only escape from the ways it constrains us and our relations, is to look at wildness as it’s opposite and consider the possibilities it holds. And here Aughterlony and Rosenblit give desire, they give bodies, give feeling and curiosity a chance - however that might look, however those bodies might move, however those objects find their true expression, however this room and us end up filled - or not.
We can be together although the space to do so is constantly taken away from us. We can make space, we can hold it so we can hold each other, we can find breaches in time, space and matter for our identities to clash and for our skins to meet. Our skin is the only membrane that can protect us from inner degradation under the outside pressures of socialised doom.
Now hold me, please. I’ll try not go anywhere.
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