BBC Sherlock Fan Forum - Serving Sherlockians since February 2012 » Favourite Quotes from Fan Fics *warning

tonnaree · October 11, 2014 11:30 am

I ship it with the burning fire of a thousand blazing suns.

SusiGo · October 11, 2014 11:33 am

You are not our president for nothing, tonnaree.

Lovely quotes as always. Such a perfect fic.

SolarSystem · October 11, 2014 11:36 am

KeepersPrice wrote:
I like this one from "The Moonlight and the Frost" as Sherlock "discovers" the wonder of John.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/1998777/chapters/4623723?view_adult=true

John Watson,” Sherlock murmurs.

“Hmm.”

“How are you the way you are?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re so ordinary on the outside,” Sherlock says quietly, his fond tone a counterpoint to his not-exactly-complimentary words.

“I hope there’s a ‘but’ coming,” John replies, amused.

“But,” Sherlock says. “On the inside of you, there’s a whole universe. Solar systems and galaxies and supernovas and nebulae and quasars. Is quasar a real word? It feels funny on my tongue.”

“Yes,” John affirms. “It’s a real word.”

“Anyway.” Sherlock snuggles closer and sighs. “Inside of you… you’re a miracle. You’re amazing. You’re the whole of creation inside one ordinary human being. John Watson, how are you possible?”

I just have to return to this quote for a second to say how beautiful this is.

SusiGo · October 11, 2014 11:37 am

This quote as well as the fic as a whole are wonderful.

Harriet · October 11, 2014 11:44 am

And I thought I'd never live to see that day but here they are, my last ones from
The Progress of Sherlock Holmes, ivyblossom
(Shall I start all over again? )

Moments of Happy End - Sherlock has finally overcome the turmoil

Mycroft smiles. “It’s a sizable accomplishment, surprising me. Exceeding my expectations. You understand that. I’m,” he pauses. Hesitating, or pausing for effect. “I’m proud of you.”
Roll my eyes. Mycroft pulls a case from under the seat. “So I brought you a little something. A gift. A peace offering.”
An attempt to mollify me? A balm on our brotherly rift? Whatever it is, no matter how expensive it is, I’m duty-bound as the (wronged) younger brother to destroy it instantly.
He places the case on his lap and opens it. Turns it toward me.

A violin. A little worse for wear; the finish a bit rough in places, some nicks and cuts. Hasn’t been as well-cared for as it should have been. Some water damage.
Wait: No. Not just a violin. (My God.) Italian. Amati. Seventeenth century. (Impossible.) A masterpiece. (I cannot possibly destroy it.) Nicolo Amati, grand pattern. A grand Amati. Incredibly rare. Amazing. (Priceless.).

In my first act as a non-psychopath (in the eyes of my dear brother) I will not destroy this (stunning) violin. (Will have to find something else to destroy. Perhaps his car.)

Harriet · October 19, 2014 8:32 am

A lovely little joke:
from Snow by earlgreytea68

“Good morning,” murmured John when Sherlock’s responses were coordinated enough that John knew he was awake, and then kissed him again.
“Why’s the duvet over our heads?” mumbled Sherlock around John’s mouth.
“Snowy day,” John told him.
“That’s—mmph—not an answer.”
“Yes, it is. Snowy days are for blankets—and kisses—long—lazy—snogs—by the fire.”
“We’re not by the fire.”
“Shut up,” said John.
“Keep my mouth busy,” countered Sherlock.

SusiGo · October 19, 2014 8:58 am

Lovely moment.

tonnaree · October 19, 2014 10:12 am

I do hope she writes more N&N. I want to see more of Oliver's life.

SusiGo · October 19, 2014 10:12 am

Oh yes, I really love that fic and their little universe.

Harriet · October 19, 2014 8:58 pm

Act IV by Silent Auror

hurt

“You’re right: she shot to kill. It’s entirely true that she could have aimed directly for my heart, or worse, my head, but there had to be room for ambiguity, for you to believe that she only meant to apprehend me.”

“She could have shot you in the shoulder or the knee,” John says. “I still don’t understand. Why make it such a close call?”
Feel my lip twist. “Because I suspect she very much did intend for me to die,” I say.

and comfort

As I do so, I notice that John’s hands have stopped moving in the water. I turn, concerned. His shoulders are hunched and his breath constricted. (Is he crying?) A moment or two later this is confirmed. He’s crying. (Am alarmed. Not sure how to respond.) I deliberate for a moment or two, then go over, standing behind him.
“John.” He doesn’t respond. (Think, I tell myself. What is a best friend supposed to do? Strive on in manly ignorance and pretend it isn’t happening? It is happening and he knows I know. What, then?)

After a moment of awkward silence, I clumsily put my arms around his shoulders, then set my cheek against the top of his head.

John goes still. Then takes a deep, uneven breath and says, “Sherlock. What are you doing?”
(This gives me pause. Not sure how this is unclear.)
“Hugging?” I try, not moving. “Isn’t that rather obvious?”

and more heart ache

The bullet wound is aching. Probably shouldn’t have exerted myself so much, but what can one do.
Between his wife shooting me almost literally in the heart and whatever it is he’s doing to me, the Watsons will be the death of me at this rate.

SusiGo · October 19, 2014 9:00 pm

Oh, my, this does hurt but in a good way.

miss.sherlocked · November 16, 2014 7:10 am

One of my favourite quotes is from the Fanfic:

Rainy Days written by LickThe Detective
Here's the quote:

"From The Rain, Flowers Are Born, We Give These Flowers To Other People and From That, Love Is Born"
http://www.wattpad.com/story/11739240-rainy-days-a-teenlock-fanfiction

Harriet · December 7, 2014 9:55 pm

Silent Auror, Act IV Sherlock POV

I go over and push him up against the open doorframe by his good shoulder, bend my head and kiss him rather thoroughly. He tastes like coffee and himself and it’s perfect; he’s responding enthusiastically, his hands coming up to rest on my waist, his mouth closing over my lower lip and sucking. (Desire making itself known again, bullet wound giving a reminder throb. Have forgotten to take the half dosage. Don’t care.) Eventually he pulls back and says, a bit breathlessly, “I’m going to miss my bus.”

I step back and let him go. I’ve had so much practise letting John Watson go now. It both does and doesn’t get easier. “Go,” I say, my voice rough.

He smiles at me, takes a step and kisses me once more, quickly, then turns and jogs down the stairs.

I retreat to the sofa to wilt like a Victorian heroine, smiling foolishly to myself, and spend the morning committing every single detail of last night and this morning to its own room of my mind palace. (Who am I trying to fool? He is my mind palace; every room is built of him. He is the foundation and the ceiling, the structural supports, the walls, the light coming in through the windows, illuminating everything. He is every part that matters.)

John shakes his head. “She killed you,” he says simply. “That’s really all I need to know. She shot you and killed you and it was intentional and she would have done it again in a heartbeat if she thought it would allow her to keep me. That’s not how love works. That’s not what it is. You don’t do things to keep people. You practically said it the other night, yourself, that if you love someone, you let them go.” His eyes flick up to mine. “The way you let me go,” he adds quietly. “This isn’t about choosing one person over another, but that’s a pretty sharp contrast right there. It really isn’t about choosing someone else other than Mary, though: this is about not choosing Mary, full stop. Does that make sense?”

tonnaree · December 7, 2014 10:28 pm

I want John to really say every word of that last one in S4.

nakahara · December 7, 2014 10:34 pm

Agreed. The quothes are so wonderful they make me a little angry and sad - John´s response to Sherlock´s pain in HLV should be at least a bit like that.

Harriet · December 7, 2014 10:44 pm

Same work:

This I like for the quick link to Mary and why Sherlock is so different:

For every flick, for Lord and Lady Smallwood, for Janine, for everyone else whose life he has ruined, but above all, for John. “Merry Christmas!” I aim at Magnussen’s head and fire. Peripherally I see John duck, recoiling instinctively at the gunfire as Magnussen’s body jerks and falls backwards. (No chance of the bullet acting like a cork, not when you’re not trying to make the shot look ambiguous and shot your victim in the head. It’s cleaner this way.) I drop the gun and raise my hands. “Get away from me, John!”

And another Mary muse:

No one would ever suspect Mary Morstan, of all people, of being a world-class assassin. Cute, despite problematic teeth and badly bleached hair (it’s not bad when it’s been touched up recently). Red coat, false pregnancy belly, whimsical fashion sense (note: whimsical is not usually good by any measure in my books, but somehow I thought it suited Mary). Turned-up jeans. An assassin who collects millions for her kills, yet doesn’t get her trousers properly hemmed. She remains an enigma to me.

nakahara · December 7, 2014 10:51 pm

Silent Auror has a way of words. A very gifted storyteller.

Harriet · December 7, 2014 11:01 pm

I found today that in two of her fics she uses a very similar expression
- when John says he has never had sex with a man before Sherlock encourages him with "It's not rocket science"

Last edited by Harriet (December 7, 2014 11:02 pm)

nakahara · December 7, 2014 11:05 pm

Haha!
Sherlock´s right, it will come naturally to John, IMHO.

Harriet · December 7, 2014 11:16 pm

LOL, I suppose it will - unless he isn't already more experienced than we know by now