#crying sherlock

Six months after my last posted chapter, Elementary again pulling me in.

Not Even This

Sherlock & Joan, or Sherlock/Joan, whatever you want to read it. Rated: M. Words: 2,276. Hurt/Comfort. Episode tag. Sherlock has abandonment issues. Sherlock fears losing Watson. Sherlock has a massive breakdown. But Watson is there to catch him.

Set after Shinwell’s death and the memorial service that Sherlock didn’t attend. Something’s wrong with him, he can feel it, and he feels his mind begin to unravel. Watson is hurt, Sherlock is too. The rift is growing bigger between them. Can they start to heal? OR, Sherlock in absolute pain and fear, for what's happening in his head and for fear of losing Watson.

“I know my behaviour has been… appalling,” he said. “Please know that I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

She turned sharply, her voice clipped, brittle.

“Because I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.”

The words hit like a bullet — not metaphorical, but real. Hot metal tearing through the centre of his chest.

His breath hitched. His knees buckled slightly, and he took one step back.

Trust.  

The one thing that had always tethered them. Quietly, fiercely. Through lies, danger, and disappearances. Through the worst of who he was.

Gone.

He looked at her, really looked, and saw none of the warmth that had once anchored him. No light in her eyes. 

Just the flat, dull ache of exhaustion. Of someone who had finally stopped hoping.

And something inside him cracked.

Not just from guilt or shame, but from the recognition . This was the moment he had spent years fighting to avoid.

Not when she argued. Not when she was angry.

But this.

This silence. This look.

The quiet surrender of someone who no longer believed in him.

Some people might’ve said you were a lost cause once…

That conversation, her voice full of conviction, came flooding back. And with it, the answer he’d given. Well, I may still be. And now, he knew it was true.

He had failed. Not as a detective. Not even as a partner.

But as a friend she could trust.

And with that failure, he had lost the only thing, the only one that mattered.

A raw, involuntary sound tore from his throat, half gasp, half sob.

He staggered back, pressing a trembling hand to his chest as if it could hold him together. But the pain was already breaking him open.

The shaking started in his fingers. Then spread. His throat burned. His vision blurred.

He was crying before he even knew he’d begun, tears tracking silently down his face, soaking into his collar.

His body folded inward, unable to stand tall beneath the weight. His breath came in shallow bursts, like a man suffocating. Shame and grief twisted like wire inside him, sharp and merciless.

He dropped his head. Shoulders hunched. Hands shaking. He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t bear to see the final confirmation in her eyes.

On my screen : Acting Sherlock.

where john proposes to sherlock and initially he has like the same reaction as when john asked him to be his bestman but then it ends with lots of kisses and lots of fluff and lots of sherlock crying of joy.

If there is a fanfic like this please tell me i need to read it.

The envelope pulsed in his vision. Small as it was, it dominated the room. 

A silent, patient predator.

He had not slept properly since Kitty left. Hadn’t even touched his bed in two days, preferring the upright torture of this chair.

At first, he had waited. Waited for the sound of her returning, for the door to slam open, for her voice to fill the air again, sharp but alive. He had waited a day. Then two. Now a week had passed, and the silence had grown thick, oppressive. A silence that told him the truth: she was gone.

He kept trying to think logically, to structure the chaos of his thoughts, to rebuild order from fragments. But the calculations dissolved, numbers dripping away, words shattering mid-thought. His mind circled and circled, a dog chasing its own tail until exhaustion blurred everything to grey.

He bowed his head, pressed his palms into his eyes. 

Wet. 

He hadn’t even registered the tears until his skin came away damp. When it did, it was all he could do. His eyelids clamped shut; a ragged sob clawed its way out, uninvited, like evidence he couldn’t suppress.

The ache in his chest sharpened, the cold in his stomach deepened. His breath came ragged, a staccato he couldn’t control.

Then, all of a sudden, a voice. Her voice, unbidden, surfaced in his head.

You’re stronger than this.

It wasn’t angry. Nor accusing. 

Simply steady. The way she had always been when he faltered.

His throat closed. His stomach turned even colder.

This isn’t who you are, Sherlock. You can beat this.

The echo throbbed like an exposed nerve. He clenched his jaw until it ached, teeth grinding, but it didn’t drive her voice away. He could see her as clearly as a photograph: bent over a corpse, brow furrowed in thought. Sitting across from him in the brownstone, tea balanced between her hands, another she’d press into his without him asking. The way she’d look at him, a small smile in her lips, the sort of grin he never knew what he’d done to deserve but was always thankful for. 

Quiet, but always present. Reliable. She had been reliable when no one else had.

And he had left her.

The thought was a spike to the sternum. His breath caught; he folded forward, fingers trembling against his knees. He had walked away from her, from everything, because it had been easier to leave than to see the result of being left behind. Abandoned. Yet here he was, abandoned all the same.

Everyone leaves.

The words were etched into him like old scar tissue. Mother. Father. So-called friends. Irene. Watson, in the end. Kitty now, too. Always leaving, always his fault.

Also available on Wattpad and Fanfiction:

Hahahahh !!! Sure Lovely! It's one of My Main Lists that reblogged on Saturday I think:

Crying Sherlock

Description: John is a crime series writer. Sherlock writes serious poetry. Sherlock takes time on his writing blog to give John Watson a hard time about his writing, though he’s secretly read all his books and in love with the author. Mistaken identity, new love, a little angst, fluff that progresses into… Well. You’ll just have to read it, now won’t you?

Review: Aaaaw, guys this is so cute. Sherlock and John talk online, but John also starts talking to Sherlock irl, not knowing that it’s him. Not knowing what to do, Sherlock says he’s “Sherlock Holmes’s cousin,” which doesn’t quite spiral out of control but ends up in a very nice place. Very cute and fluffy. (My favorite line of this: "Sherlock immediately regretted the comment. He thought he was being cute, or funny, or…something, but it came out all wrong." We've all been there Sherlock.)

Rating: Explicit

You like to suffer, don’t you Nonny....??

WHO HURT HIM? [x]

Seriously I think Sherlock is crying in that bottom gif. His eyes are awful red...