prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, OCs
Rating: Mature/R
Tags & Warnings: Vampire John, Angel Sherlock, Religious Themes, Demons, Vampires, Angels, Fallen Angels, Unhappy Ending, Revenge, Hell, Spiritual Corruption, John's life being all terrible all the time
Notes: A prequel to Graceless by belladonna_q, with her kind permission.

John learns, with clawing, bloody slowness, how to fend for himself. He learns the capacity to love wasn’t taken from him, or the need for it. He learns what it is to starve. To need things that aren’t given to him.




Hell is not a place, but a state. )
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating: R
Tags & Warnings: dubious consent, supernatural elements, monster Sherlock
Notes: Prompt from dirtycorzaharkness: "john/sherlock cthulhu or ballroom dancing au."



John opens his eyes when he feels the bed dip. Sherlock swings one immaculately naked ivory leg over his hips and stretches out luxuriously atop him, a heavy, living weight of muscle and bone.

He is cold as winter marble.

John can’t move, except to reach up and wrap his arms around Sherlock’s frigid shoulders. The chill soaks into him till he’s wracked with shivers, but Sherlock’s eyes are so warm when they meet John’s with a teasing smile, and his lips are the perfect soft kiss of the first winter snowfall as they brush at John’s with gentle desire. Even though John knows what comes next, he can’t bear to turn that affection away. He’s wanted too badly for too long, aches too deeply, and Sherlock knows it.

They kiss langorously, mouths moulding and tasting, in just the way John never believed he could have. And when John’s lips part under Sherlock’s coaxing tongue, Sherlock’s breath pours into him, a gelid tendril creeping down into his lungs. John can feel it there, the frost piercing the blood-air barrier of his lungs to invade his bloodstream, feasting on his heat to multiply in his veins and spread through his body.

He wakes up alone, chest aching with the cold. Every night, it seeps a little deeper. John doesn’t know whether to love or dread sleep.
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating: NC-17
Tags & Warnings: Non-con, mind control, captivity, bondage, blood, vampires
Notes: Inspired by Sherlock’s skin was as cold as the steel around John’s neck by archiaart.
Prequel to "The Lamps of His Eyes".




John watches the candle flickering on the nightstand a few feet from the bed. "For you," Sherlock had said with a little smile when he'd lit it, and John had wondered: why a candle? Why not a lamp or a night light? Something with less risk of mess or burning the place down.

He still doesn’t know, but he’s grateful all the same. The little flame dances like it’s keeping him company, a fluttering reminder that life and warmth still exist in the world beyond the cold circle of metal around his neck and the weight of Sherlock’s body draped over John’s.

Somewhere outside, the sun is traveling across the sky, pouring its light over London’s gleaming buildings and grimy pavements. John might never see it again. “I’m going to keep you,” Sherlock had told him, when he’d bound John tight and chained him into his bed. But a vampire’s thralls tend not to last for long.

Everyone is fascinated by the bite. )
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating: PG-13
Tags & Warnings: Valdemar fusion, fantasy AU, magical animals
Notes: Written for a Tumblr prompt from persian-slipper, who wanted 'John/Sherlock, Valdemar.'




John feels with his healer’s gift along Sherlock’s body, sinking his awareness into the tissues to find them abused, battered, swollen. "This isn’t new damage," John tells him almost accusingly. This is old, unrepaired, neglected by a man who doesn’t eat or sleep enough. No wonder the K’Vala scout leader sent Sherlock to him.

Sherlock simply huffs, lip twisting into a contemptuous curl that should not be as appealing as it is. John closes his eyes as the disdain washes through him, hot and oddly elegant.

:He doesn’t take care of himself,: Sherlock’s owl grumps. :It’s boring, he says. Says his mind gets too busy if he lets himself get distracted.: John can feel her piled-up irritation, her prickly sarcasm directed at Sherlock like a barb, shiny and well-worn, and a mimic-perfect mirror image of what’s rolling off Sherlock where he sits.

"My mind needs to stay busy," Sherlock says, as if even bothering to speak is a mighty concession. "Yours may plod; mine races. It needs problems that will occupy it, not…" He flaps a graceful, sharp hand. "Trivialities."

Good lord. Mages. John scratches the poor despairing owl behind her head, and then turns back to Sherlock. "Trivialities, eh?"

Sherlock lifts a cocky, ascerbic eyebrow. "Do you have a prescription for an overabundance of intelligence, kestra’chern? A rock to the head, perhaps?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." John grins wickedly and slides in to straddle Sherlock’s lap, tugging the collar of his robe open. "I have just the thing to occupy that overactive mind."
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating: PG
Tags & Warnings: magical realism, fantasy, magical circus
Notes: Written for a Tumblr prompt from thatworldinverted




By daylight, the palomino and the black stallion can be found side by side on the carousel, transfixed in place via metal poles through their backs as they ride in endless circles for the delight of children.

At night, after the crowds have gone home, Sherlock and John stroll, shoulders bumping, through the sulphurous haze of the sodium lamps on the abandoned midway. When they pass the chuckling mechanical fortuneteller, John stops Sherlock with a touch to his shoulder and heads over to drop in a token.

She does her chortling dance over her crystal ball, and drops a ticket into the chute. 954876, it reads.

"You don't have to stay," John says, just like every night.

Sherlock gently pulls the ticket from John's fingers and drops it in the rubbish bin. "You owe this debt for my sake, John. I won't leave you to pay it alone." He wraps his arms around John and pulls him close, and keeps him there while they walk through the tattered magic of the circus after-hours.

In the morning when the box office opens, the black and the palomino are back on the carousel. The next night, John consults the fortuneteller again.

953436 revolutions to go.
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Companion piece to go with merman Sherlock for dee-lite's birthday. Because everybody should get their turn! (At being a fishperson, that is.)

Mild NSFW for licking a fishman )
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating: PG-13
Tags and Warnings: mild slash, Sherlock is a fairy, supernatural themes, folklore, violent dream imagery
Notes: Special shout-out to hiddenlacuna, mydwynter, and dee-light, for the mad brainstorming session which formed the foundation of this chapter! This, people, is the fruit of their magnificent brains.




John’s lost his horse. His big black warhorse, who followed him through so many battles and fought at John’s side; he’s drowned in the swamp, and John has nowhere to go. He can’t be a soldier without a horse. He shuffles through the dusty city in his long brown coat, and asks for work from the men holding wheels on the street corners.

He’s not a soldier anymore, and he can’t be a doctor, not with his horse’s blood on his shaking hands. It’s all he can do to feed himself, and the crows that come to visit. Always feed the crows. They carry luck in their beaks and decide how much they want to give you.

They seem so familiar... )

Parts: One | Two | Three | TBA
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Merman Sherlock

For lap-otter, who totally isn't writing stories about Merlock.

Frankly, I'm astounded I pulled this one off. I thought it was going to be too much picture for me, but it came out surprisingly smoothly. But I am pretty damn proud of it (for the moment; by next week I will probably only be able to see the flaws).
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating: PG
Tags and Warnings: ambiguous gen/slash, Sherlock is a fairy, supernatural themes, folklore
Notes: Beta shout-outs to hiddenlacuna, dee-light, and lapotter! I couldn't have done it without you, guys! (I mean it, I couldn't have.)

‘Power point’ is British for ‘electrical outlet.’




It’s well after dark by the time they reach the edge of town. A half-moon is out, for all the dubious good it does; it doesn’t illuminate so much as it deepens the shadows over all the deadliest bits of landscape. One might think that wandering the moonlit Welsh countryside with a man who’s really a fairy would be atmospheric, but mostly it’s just painful. After nearly breaking his legs three times, John’s fished his torch out again, but Sherlock doesn’t seem to need it.

He breaks into a run before John can even make out what he’s seen, and then does a flying leap to land out in the middle of the road John hadn’t realized they’d reached.

Sherlock stomps his feet on the blacktop. )

Parts: One | Two | Three | TBA
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes
Rating: PG
Tags and Warnings: AU, fantasy, Hiatus, angst
Notes: Written for [livejournal.com profile] shefa for her Touchstone universe, with her permission. Partner piece to I leave a trail of breadcrumbs to show you where I've been.




When Sherlock comes to London, he visits his grave.

It’s selfish to come here like this, to take without giving, not to mention foolishly risky. But his friends—he may as well admitting to having them, now, since Moriarty already cut each of their names out of him in chunks—pile their hearts up in glittering pebbles before his headstone, and Sherlock can’t stop himself from coming here to feel the warmth he never let himself bask in when he had the chance.

It’s so lonely, this thing he’s doing. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t afford to share himself. He has no one close enough to him to touch his wishstones, to understand him. No true human contact, only the cold impersonality of common physical touch.

It’s as if he never met John, never learned how to open his heart. He spent so long unable to wish that now, with no one to reach out to, it doesn’t seem real that he can. Some days the panic chokes him, that it’s all in his head, that he’s forgotten how again, that there’s nothing left of him to share and no one waiting and no reason to come back home.

That’s why he has to return to his grave: to remind himself that it’s real. )
prettyarbitrary: (Fuzzy Cthulhu)
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating: PG (mild language)
Tags and Warnings: ambiguous gen/slash (I haven't decided yet), Sherlock is a fairy, supernatural themes, folklore,
Notes: Written for a kink meme prompt.

A tale about the shaping of friendships and the naming of things.




Fairies are a myth. You’re mad. )

Parts: One | Two | Three | TBA

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