Texts started and ended their fanart features with my stupid works. I feel like I’ve finally achieved my goal. This is my legacy.
Thank you—all 7,000+ of you—so, so much for all of your support of and dedication to this project. We’ve had a blast writing it and are incredibly grateful that you stuck around for the ride.
Check back tomorrow for information about what’s going to happen regarding the continuation of this blog and sequels!
(Those of you who follow FYSS might also want to check in on him soon as well.)
thank you seth and chelsea for everything that you do and have done and will do, you are both spectacular and just… thank you for bringing us together and breaking our hearts and taking us on this amazing ride and ahhhhhhhhh
Notes: Warnings for alcohol consumption, drug abuse, explicit sexual content, prostitution, and suicidal ideation. Also on LJ for ease of reading. Please read John’s and Mycroft’s flashbacks for full understanding.
The army doctor known as John has him pinned against the door as soon as it closes. “Where’d you learn to do that?” John asks in between fervent, reverent kisses. (The best kind.) “Basil—oh, Christ—” John’s breath reeks of alcohol. It’s nearly preferable to the underlying mustiness of their chosen motel room. “That thing with your—you know—”
“My tongue,” supplies Sherlock, squirming, amused. The drunk ones tend to be the more garrulous of his marks. “That’s the word you’re searching for.”
“Tongue, yeah. That’s it. Tongue.” John curls his own momentarily. Its flavor is less than appetizing—cheap beer, stale crisps—but Sherlock has tasted far worse on far more unpleasant people. Either way, Sherlock is of the opinion that too much importance is given to mingling tongues.
At least John seems to be having fun with it. Aspiring alcoholics are so easy to please. (And much more willing to part with their money. Sherlock has a whole family of addictions to feed.)
They’re kissing again. It’s nice to explore and discover that John routinely brushes his teeth. That makes sense: John is a trained medical doctor, of his own admission, corroborated by his details. Personality traits like cleanliness and fastidiousness tend to be obvious at first glance. Endearing traits to be sure. A welcome change of pace.
When Sherlock is tripping on this much ecstasy (among other things), he’ll accept flaws like poor hygiene if it means a more passionate partner. He’s craving only the heat, the friction, the adrenalized dissociation—the carnal rhythm that’s older than anyone knows. It will stop him from thinking like a precise blow to the head. John is tonight’s hammer, and a lucky find altogether.
“If you want to know more about me,” Sherlock murmurs in and out of the kiss, “then stay with me for a while. Maybe I’ll deign to tell you.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Basil.”
This is breaking me in so many ways. Tears. Tears.
Remember when Sherlock called an angry emoticon an angry emoticon?
And I am thankful for everything you Seth and Chel are doing because it is a seriously long wait before the 3rd season and I don’t know what I would be doing as a Sherlock fan aside from watching the past 2 seasons over and over again.
But because Seth and Chel keeps up Texts, it feels like Sherlock is still here. I’ve sort of adapted Texts as canon for BBC Sherlock because of how similar it is to the series. Whew. Amazing work. Thanks you guys :)
Welcome to the sub-fandom! I have to tell you something, though… It IS canon! Seth and Chel isn’t really Seth and Chel. They’re Moffat and Gatiss.