1 - 20 of 58 Works by Susan
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Someone wants John Watson dead and is willing to pay a lot of money to make it happen.
“However you do this,” he said, his accent faltering, “make it slow.”
He nodded. It never occurred to him to ask why John Watson had to die.
Hitmen, old grudges, new grudges and lots of kissing. -
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Written for Fluffbruary 2022 - prompt was "gift."
John thinks too hard, as usual.
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It was Rosie’s fault. Her aunt bought her the entire set for her eighth birthday. John had never read them, Sherlock claimed he had never heard of them. But it was the only topic of conversation at the dinner table for the next several weeks.
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A short history of John's drinking life.
Written for Fluffbruary 2022 - prompt was drink. -
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These are the things that Sherlock believes. The things he tells Rosie late at night when she can’t sleep and John can’t stay awake.
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John waits, Sherlock worries.
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Sherlock dreams.
Written for Fluffbruary 2022 - Day 7 - prompt was dream.
A 221B ficlet. -
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Written for Fluffbruary 2022 - Prompt was Secret
Sherlock misses John.
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A Thousand Kisses Deep by Susan
Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
23 Dec 2017
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“Come here,” Sherlock said and when he did, he put his arm across John’s shoulder, and pulled him close. John let him, and after a moment, rested his head against Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock felt the familiar ache, a longing for what might have been. If only he’d been braver, more sure of John’s feelings. He dropped his arms and stepped back. It was too late. Things were as they were meant to be.
But it was autumn in Sussex, and everything was changing.
If you were given a chance to go back to the beginning and make things right, would you take it? -
Four Funerals and a Wedding by Susan
Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
06 Sep 2017
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The story of John and Sherlock or Nothing worth having is ever easy.
John fit himself neatly into Sherlock, his arm curving over his back, his hand tucked warmly under Sherlock’s body. John thought Sherlock had fallen asleep when the feather-light breath of Sherlock’s whisper drifted across his skin, “Stay with me.”
John understood then that Sherlock had always been there, in the corner of his mind, in the tracks of his memory, right there close enough to touch. He held onto him, trying hard to steady his voice. “Where else would I go?”
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I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees by Susan
Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
05 Mar 2017
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Sherlock lays out the facts, finds connections, makes deductions. He’s a brilliant schoolboy in a classroom of idiots. But there are things Sherlock cannot deduce, conclusions he will never draw, murders he will never solve. These are the cases that never make it into the blog, cases like this one. I don’t write them up because they’re bad for business. At least that’s what I tell him.
The truth is more complicated.
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Written for Watson's Woes Advent 2016. A little bit of happily ever after for everyone. Because it's Christmas. Set several years after Series 4.
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The Last Case of Dr. John Watson by Susan
Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
23 Apr 2016
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If he really had less than twenty-four hours to live, was it too much to ask that it be sunny? Being poisoned and soaked to the skin on the same day seemed to John a bit of cosmic overkill.
Sherlock's only hope of saving John is finding the antidote before it's too late. But where does he start?
Set loosely in Series 1, before The Great Game.
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Sometimes late at night, when all I hear is the sound of Sherlock’s steady breathing beside me, I wonder if the life we have now is my reward for surviving everything that went before. But then Sherlock cries out in the dark, his body sweaty and tangled in the sheets, legs kicking out against some imagined villain, and I wonder how my reward can also be his punishment.
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The first Christmas after he was divorced—living alone in a furnished apartment three blocks from the station—Hutch signed up for all the shifts no one else wanted.
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As if John and Sherlock don't have enough problems already (that whole Sherlock getting shot by Mary thing), now there's a cold case detective from Canada snooping around asking questions about Moriarty.
Kate took her time, wanting to give him time to get settled. When she returned, John had cleared away the tea and Sherlock was sitting in the leather chair wearing sweat pants and a faded white t-shirt under a blue silk bathrobe.
She didn’t know men still wore silk bathrobes.
Thinner than his pictures, paler too. All cheekbones and unruly dark hair. Blue eyes dulled by the pain meds. Needs to shave. Bare feet. Holds one arm against his chest. Like he’s literally trying to hold himself together. Is he aware that he’s doing that?
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Drabble: prompt was Duluth.
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Just tell him.
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“I wish I’d told my mother. About us.” John said. “I wanted to, you know, I just never knew how to start. My family was never good with . . . talking. And then she got sick . . .”
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He only keeps the plant because unlike the other flowers that were delivered to Baker Street in the days after Sherlock’s death – lilies from Molly, a small arrangement from Sherlock’s parents, white tulips from Anthea – this one was addressed to Sherlock.