What a nice find from tumblr. I think we did not have this before. From ASiB - a cupid aiming at John in a scene in which a certain Mr Archer wants to shoot him. 

Oh I'm sure the little cupid is just coincidence. It happened to be there and Martin happened to position himself right next to it and then the camera just happened to have the pictures taken from this angle...
Alternatively it could be a joke.

ancientsgate wrote:

SolarSystem wrote:

It's been quiet in here, too quiet. So read this, ladies.
http://sherlohckholmes.tumblr.com/post/99710537038/janhawkins-imagine-the-morning-after-their

The stuff of romantic nonsense, but that kind of scenario is heart-warming to the women of the world, simply because we (usually) get so very little of it from our male partners.
 

Yes, it´s kinda hard to imagine two practical and unsentimental males to behave like that. Hmmm, the real scenario would probably look more similar to this:

John wakes up early at the sound of Sherlock snoring loudly into his ear.
He makes a face and maliciously buries his palm into Sherlock´s awfully dishevelled curls, pulling them slightly.
Sherlock stirs up and blinks, frowning and complaining with his deep, rumbling voice: "Hey, what was that for?"
"I had to," shrugs John with a cheeky grin, "our neighbours would otherwise think we have a sawmill here."
Sherlock sits up slowly, stretches his long arms to the sides and bends his back backwards, then looks at John cooly: "Sawmill, you say?"
He abruptly bends up to John and kisses him, playfully biting his lips.
John reciprociates eagerly and they are soon engaged in a very hot activities there.
"Your stubble pricked me," grumles John afterwards, rubbing his cheeks.
Sherlock, lazily spread on the bed, props himself upon his elbows and bends his head backwards, sticking out his chin: "Shave it then, if you like."
John takes a razor and carefully shaves him, delightedly touching Sherlock´s jaw and throat and caressing it in a sensual manner....

Still quite romantic, if you ask me.  

Sequel, please! 

Guess who will be banned tomorrow   

I hope you are right 

Nobody here is getting banned. We're all decent.
And it can't get any more decent than this:
http://shutuplock.tumblr.com/post/99762196597/id-have-loved-to-have-gone-further-but-i
 

Last edited by SolarSystem (October 13, 2014 9:00 am)

Soon, they sit on the terrace overlooking the stormy sea, observing the flock of sea-gulls gliding over the white-capped waves, listening to the shrill voices of the birds. Sherlock is slowly eating spaghetti bolognese and sips Italian white vine while John is heartily devouring full English breakfast accompanied by the pint of a good pale ale. Out of custom, they do some small-talk in between.
„It doesn´t look like rain, don´t you think?“ remarks John, happily chewing on the crispy piece of bacon.
„14° of Celsius, north wind at 10 miles per hour, 91% of humidity, 60% chance of precipitation with showers likely in the evening,“ replies Sherlock courtly.
„And the food is good too,“ notes John with another good bite into the bread.
„The owner of the restaurant is local, served as a postman in the vicinity before opening the business here after retirement. The cook is an Italian, through. Came into UK through Erasmus and ended up marrying a local girl, a daughter of the owner. Saw a lucky chance in joining the business of his English in-laws, since Brighton is full of tourists and a local fare pales in comparison with Italian cuisine. Was successful, put on 20 pounds in three years and has two children in between with his wife – probably that woman we see in the framed picture over the counter.“ Sherlock rattles off a long string of his deductions nonschalantly.
John grins from ear to ear.
„Wrong, Sherlock.“ He says smugly. „That woman over the counter is a local starlet. Made a television programme on Brighton some times ago. That´s why she hangs in a frame over there.“
Sherlock blushes, frowns and proudly returns to his pasta, mumbling something like „damn, there´s always something“ under his nose.
John sups a large amount of his ale in one gulp and tries to tend to his baked beans and scrambled eggs again when Sherlock lightly touches his wrist with a mere tips of his fingers. Sherlock´s silver eyes flit to the side in a motion quick like a viper´s stroke and return to his lovers face. John discreetly follows his glance, right in time to see a young, twenty-something man dressed in impeccable business suit deftly pulling out a purse out of a bag of a female guest. The woman notices nothing, chatting unconcernedly with her friends at the table.
The man turns up to the stairs at at end of the terrace and disappears underground quickly.
„Oh,“ John wipes his mouth with a serviette, puts it down and stands up with a crooked smile, „I think I´ll go to the loo for a while.“
„OK with me,“ quips Sherlock and takes another slow sip from the vine.
John scampers down the stairs, finds the men´s room and barges right in. The thief who is standing by the sink rummaging in the woman´s purse, bulges his eyes at him.
„Hello,“ says John in a low voice, smiling ominously.
The man bolts and springs right at John, but the former soldier is well prepared for that and he has the thief laying on the floor in a second with his hands twisted behind his back, doctor´s knee pressed into a small of his back. Unsurprisingly, the woman´s credit card and driver´s licence were already in the back pocket of a man´s trousers. John returns them to the purse and releases his prisoner.
The man is out of the door quickly as a breeze. John washes his hands in a sink and returns upstairs to his table, taking his place once again.
„You were quick,“ remarks Sherlock, eyeing John from above the edge of a desserts menu.
„Yeah,“ agrees John and secretively hands the purse over to Sherlock under the table, their hands masked by the long tablecloth.
Sherlock stands up majestically and stretches lazily.
„It´s my turn, then,“ he rumbles in a deep voice and he turns up to the door, bumping into a chair of another guest by accident.
„Oh, excuse me,“ he apologises and smoothly melts away down the stairs. John smiles appreciatively as he watches Sherlock´s long thin thingers slipping the purse back into the woman´s bag.
Later in the evening, the detective and his doctor are sitting in the portable chairs on the beach strewn with mead-coloured gravel and watch the dark horizon far, far behind the sea. The air is scented with a vernal aroma of an approaching rain. In the twilight, Sherlock is raising his hand again and again, observing a simple, unadorned band of gold stuck on his ring finger with morbid fascination.
„So what do you think, Sherlock,“ inquires John who fiddles with a paper cup full of ale in his lap. „Do you hate marriage as strongly as before, now?“
„Not enough data yet,“ replies Sherlock and closes his eyes, scratching the nape of his neck absentmindedly. „Still, I cannot congratulate you on the choice of your partner, John. He is irresponsible and obstinate and will inadvertedly draw you into danger.“
„Oh, that´s all right with me,“ comments John unconcernedly and inclines his head quite close to Sherlock´s, staring intently into his pale eyes that opened again and darkened in thrill, „you know I crave danger.“
Those full red lips adorned with cupid bow are suprisingly soft and taste like ripe cherries.
 
THE END.
 

Last edited by nakahara (October 13, 2014 10:44 pm)

I´m glad that you liked it. And no ban - hurray!

Does the forum have a thread where folks can post original short stories, either johnlock or not? That would be interesting. Maybe someone should start one.  *back into my cave now*