kalinsanity

Beautiful art OP! I might've tripped and written something for it <3

Biggest thanks to @fruitviking for the setting: Just post Three Garridebs!

Hope you like this lil thing!

In my arms

John Watson smiled softly, his eyes focused on his husband’s form as he locked their door and finally let his coat fall to the floor.

“Come here, handsome man.” He called, consciously relaxing his posture.

Holmes’ posture got immediately more rigid as he turned on one heel, eyes sharp and concern all over his face.

“John...-” He started.

“Calm down, my dear fellow, I’m not dying yet. – Smiled Watson interrupting him. – Now, why don’t you come here and lie down? We’re both awfully tired and we both could use a few hours of sleep.” He proposed, his eyes drinking in the long, thin form of his husband.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” Asked the detective tentatively.

The doctor smiled sweetly, patting the bed at his side. “Absolutely, my darling. You’re here, what could I want more? Come here, darling.”

Holmes sighed softly, approaching his husband and sitting where Watson had told him to. “John…” Was all he could say, as his husband cupped his cheek to caress his sharp cheekbone with his thumb.

“You don’t have to worry Sherlock, my heart. I’ll be fine, I just need a good night of sleep and I’ll be as right as rain.” He reassured.

“It’s still very much not right that I got you shot.” Insisted Holmes, stubborn, his jaw clenched and worry still clear in his eyes.

“You didn’t, my dearest, it was an accident. We’ve always known that this is a dangerous job.”

“You shouldn’t get hurt, John. Ever.” Insisted Holmes.

“And we both know it’s impossible, my dear. I’m fine, we’re alive and we’re together. – Dr Watson moved to kiss his husband softly. – Come to bed, Sherlock. We both need to rest, my dearest.”

“My dear, dear Watson. – Sighed the detective. – I… Are you quite sure it’s alright?” He asked again, with a small, tentative smile.

“Quite – Smiled the doctor. – You need to sleep, Sherlock.”

“You shouldn’t be worrying for me, John. Not-”

“You’re my husband. Worrying for you is what I’ve been doing for the last 20 years.” Interrupted the doctor.

“That you have. Give me a moment, just time to slip into my nightshirt.” Smiled Holmes, the worry in his eyes not quite eased, but not as tense anymore.

He was a man of his word: in a few moments he had undressed and got ready for sleeping just as Dr Watson had removed his waistcoat and shirt and lied down under the covers, waiting for his partner.

“I’ll hold you tonight, dear one.” Stated the detective, climbing on the bed and settling at his husband’s side.

“Don’t look at me like that, John. I wouldn’t manage to sleep without knowing that you are sleeping and are safe.” He continued at the doctor’s slight protest.

“You are a tyrant. And worry too much. And I love you, my little bee.” Smiled Dr Watson, settling on his right side and snuggling on his husband, his head on Holmes’ strong, bony shoulder.

“I love you too, my dear. And I don’t know how I could manage without you.” Replied the detective, placing a kiss on his husband’s silver streaked hair.

“Shush now. Don’t think such thoughts, nothing bad happened. And you were so very keen to show off by carrying me upstairs, my dearest. So with a bit of luck none of us will have to manage without the other for a long time still.” Smiled Watson, basking in Holmes’ strong hold and caressing his body with light fingers.

“You shush. – Rebuked Holmes. – As much as you are a bit heavier than a few years ago, you’re certainly not nearly heavy enough that I can’t carry you upstairs, such ideas!” He joked.

Dr Watson chuckled. “Good, I manage to make you joke.”

“I do worry for you, my Watson. You are the person I hold more dear than everybody in this world.” Murmured Holmes, his voice very soft.

“And yet…”

“Not so much as to spare your pride about that, my little bear.” Smiled the detective, patting his Watson’s backside.

“You simply don’t operate in the system most of us operate in, dear Holmes. I’ve turned fifty-one a few months ago and you’ll turn fifty in a few months and yet you’re still the most uncomfortable pillow I’ve ever slept on.” Joked Watson, his hand pressing on his partner’s flat stomach, caressing him through the nightshirt.

“And yet I’m also getting old and soft in more than one way, dear John.” Smiled the detective in the dark.

“And is that supposed to be a bad thing?” Asked Watson rhetorically.

“I-”

“I don’t think so. – Smiled the doctor, interrupting Holmes’ attempt to answer. – It’s good that you also relax a bit, that you unwind. I’m glad of every single white hair on your head, Sherlock, and of every single line on your face, because we’ve managed to live to our fiftieth birthday, my dear fellow, and I never thought we would get to it. Now sleep. And don’t think dark thoughts.”

“You are an insatiable romantic, my dearest John. And you need to sleep, I’m sorry I’ve been keeping you awake.” Replied Holmes, wishing his partner good night.

Dr Watson replied in kind, grumbling a bit, jokingly, about his Holmes being the most uncomfortable man another man had ever used as a pillow and closing his eyes.

i draw @sinagingan designs of Basil and Henry because of a mental disease

Henry after watching Sybil's performance ^

Happy pride to them especially

"From the moment I met you, your personality had the most extraordinary influence over me. I quite admit that I adored you madly, extravagantly, absurdly."

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