Silvergirl

Astonishingly enough, the 14th is only a week away! The August prompts are: herbs - moss - hedge + the image above.

Alternative prompts: orchard - forest - landscape - oak - abundance + the image below

wanna go where the love is

Hello everyone!! I come baring gifts for the fellow Sherlock Holmes community. I guess you could even say a gift for our stalwart Dr. Watson’s birthday: JOHNLOCK WEEK 2026!!

As some of you who heard of this previous will see, I’ve pushed back the dates by a week. Our new dates will be August 16th-22nd! I want this to be able to reach as many fans as possible, so if you could reblog this i would greatly appreciate it! If you know any fanfic writers/artists that would like to participate, tell them!! I’m not a big creator and relatively new to this community, so your guys’ reach would be extremely helpful!

Below will have all the guidelines and longer descriptions of the prompts, thank you all!!

GUIDELINES:

1. this can be of ANY iteration/AU, please go crazy and do whatever your heart desires!!

2. Please censor any NSFW. We have many young fans and i know some of us like our content a bit spicy and there’s no shame in it! But we need to keep our spaces safe for our younger fans too. 💜

3. Please tag your work using “JohnLock Week 2026 pop” so i can see all your beautiful art and fics!! (I will be reposting all of it on my page!)

4. Have fun!!!

PROMPTS:

Fake Relationship - Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson are in a tight situation where they need to be in a fake relationship (for now) to solve a case! Maybe Holmes’ has to crossdress and be Watson’s wife, maybe they must be gay lovers, who knows!!!

Active Investigation - Show our beautiful darling boys investigating. Lounging in 221B shifting through mountains of book and trying to crack a code, caught in a chase with the criminal, or maybe at the scene of the crime itself!

Parentlock - Somehow, someway, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson are in charge of taking care of a child, pretty reckless if you ask me. (/silly) Is it their own child or someone else’s?

Alternative First Meeting - Maybe our story of our great duo starts differently from the typical. Maybe they met on one of Holmes great investigations or possibly our Doctor finds Holmes in a dire health crisis.

Autistic Holmes - We love our great detective, but he’s got a disability that can definitely make him struggle at times. Show our Watson helping him and being there for him in those trying times or just being is eccentric self around his Watson. If you’re autistic yourself, draw one of your own symptoms!

Confessions - The love of our darling duo is undeniable, so how would they confess? A grand gesture of love? A quiet confession under a moonlight night? You can also do a marriage proposal if you would like!

Genderbent - Our darling boys have turned into darling girls!!! Draw them doing one of the past prompts or something new, they just have to be beautiful lesbians!

Send Me To Heaven by helloliriels - art for @breath4soul's stunning fic My Favourite Mistake! Still a WiP and worth the wait ... haha! 💋

"You're bloody gorgeous. I've died and gone to heaven."

Alt first meeting at uni where John gets drunk and pounds on the wrong door thinking it is his room. It turns out to be Sherlock's.

For @fanartfrenzy - make art for a fic that is 3 yrs old, and also for @sherlockchallenge for January: prompt YELLOW!!

24th October

"Drunk"

Holmesian hands study, my turn for a love letter to Holmes' hands.

Responsible Adults by J_Baillier

Johnlock Love Letters #2420

The room was very quiet after the door closed. Outside, the light was already going. In twenty minutes they were due at the cake place, to meet Molly; there was time, and no time at all.

John was weeping behind his hands, fighting to keep silent. Fat tears kept slipping through, one after another, catching the low evening sun as they fell. There was something in the sight of him — a waterbird with no shore left to return to — that closed round Sherlock's chest like a fist. Before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet, and John was in his arms.

"It's okay, John."

"It's not okay."

"No. But it is what it is."

He held John's shaking shoulders and cupped the side of his neck in one palm. The first touch of John's neck was cooler than he had expected. Thinner, too, than it used to be. He stroked it, slowly.

"John, you may not remember this."

Sherlock's voice, dry and steady, came down from above John's head.

"The first time we had dinner at Angelo's. You said something to me. You said: it's all fine. Do you remember that, John?"

Little by little, the shaking began to subside. Still stroking his neck, Sherlock went on.

"Have you any idea what those words did for me?"

He didn't wait for an answer.

"They saved me, John. Do you understand? You saved me."

"— Saved you?"

John finally spoke. A cracked, unsteady voice, barely more than breath.

"Until I met you, I had always been alone. No one ever found me. No one tried to understand me; to them I was a freak — wanted only when my brain was useful. I lived believing I was entirely alone in this world."

Word by word, as if testing the texture of each one, Sherlock murmured on.

"And to a man like that, you said: it's all fine. You said it in passing — you probably don't remember. But with those words, I felt I had found somewhere in this world I was allowed to exist. That day, you saved me from being alone."

John slowly lifted his head. Sherlock's calm gaze came down to meet his.

"So now let me say it back to you. This is what's real. Our life exactly as it is — wretched, unvarnished. And it's all right. It's okay. John Watson. Whatever you are, it's all fine. Whatever kind of man you turn out to be, you're fine exactly as you are."

"—————!!"

The moment he heard it, John caught his breath, his eyes went wide, his lips pressed thin, and then —

"Aah — aaaaaaahh!!"

With a roar like an animal's, John flung his arms round Sherlock's body. Hard enough to crack ribs. One body driven straight into another. Holding him back just as hard, Sherlock repeated the same words, over and over.

It's okay, John. It's okay. It's okay...

The more the words settled over him, the gentler John's breathing became. The stiffness of fingers dug in hard enough to bruise slowly dissolved.

"............Thank you, Sherlock."

"It's fine."

"............I feel forgiven."

"...I know."

They stayed like that a while. As if soothing a child, Sherlock held John, quietly stroking his neck, rocking him gently side to side. How long they stood there, neither could have said.

"John, there's something else I want to tell you."

"— What?"

Sherlock drew back slowly, set both hands on John's shoulders, and stooped a little. Their eyes met, level. Sherlock's eyes, gone gold in the evening light, flickered minutely from side to side. A hush fell.

"John, I love you."

Sherlock said it quietly. John's eyes went very wide; he opened his mouth to say something, and nothing came out. He gave up and closed it again.

"I love you, John."

The same words again, with more heat in them this time. John, for his part, stood frozen, eyes wide enough to spill over. He couldn't have moved a finger.

".....................Since when?"

After a long silence, John at last produced something resembling words.

"An important point. Ordinarily I retain the precise date and time at which I first perceive a phenomenon — but in this case, regrettably, I can't identify the moment. It's a banality that appals even me, but: by the time I noticed, it already was. — Or, if you pressed me: perhaps the day we met at Barts."

"————What?"

"From the moment I first saw you."

John was in absolute chaos. Every emotion Sherlock had ever caused him was churning in his head, on the point of bursting. There were ten thousand things to demand of him, and he had no idea where to begin.

"Why are you telling me now?"

"Because you told me to, just now. That the chance to say it doesn't last forever. That chances vanish before you know it. You said it, John. So I ————"

"...All right. All right. Yes. I did say that, just now. But that was about Irene Adler. And for the hundredth time, I'm not gay."

"Your sexuality is beside the point. What matters, John, is that chances vanish. Your advice is always sound."

"But ————"

"I've told you I love you. Your answer?"

Sherlock's gaze, its old strength restored, pinned John dead straight.

"— Oh, you bastard, what the hell is this! You can't be serious — you're saying it now, you?! After — after everything's ended up like this ——?! ...You absolute shit!!"

John's fist hammered against Sherlock's chest. He had been calm a moment ago, and now a hot mass of feeling rose in his throat; he did not want to cry any more, and the tears came anyway.

"You idiot... why... why didn't you... say it sooner... Then none of this... no one... Mary wouldn't have had to die... Now, after everything's already broken... fuck..."

"Hypotheticals mean nothing, John. It is what it is."

"...I know... I know... This is the reality, the whole bloody mess of it... I know... I can't put it all on you... I had... my chances too..."

John groaned like an animal through clenched teeth. Every regret gone past. Every choice mischosen. And the life that would go on regardless. And the one who would walk that road beside him —

"— is you, Sherlock Holmes. You put light into my bloody miserable ordinary life, then you took that light away and dropped me into hell, then you strolled back in as if nothing had happened, and you've dragged me about and run me ragged every day since —— you've wrecked my life completely, and still, the one standing next to me is —— you. Sherlock!"

He all but screamed the name. Rage or grief or joy, impossible to tell — something fierce flooded John's eyes and aimed itself straight at Sherlock.

"John. May I take that to mean that you love me too?"

"Take it however you like!"

"— Then I shall."

Sherlock smiled, calm, and drew John's head in against him again. John was no longer crying. The evening sun cut their two shadows out sharp on the floor.

"John. One more request."

"What now. If this is any more ——"

"A birthday present?"

"———— Fine. What do you want?"

Sherlock said nothing, and looked at him. The big palm resting on John's neck moved slowly up and down. Wearing the gentlest face John had ever seen on him, Sherlock tipped his head slightly to the right.

John glared at him for a second, then let out a small sigh. He took Sherlock's face in both hands, pulled it down, and kissed him. Once. Twice. John's thin lips against Sherlock's full ones. They parted a little, and looked at each other. Then once more. Harder this time. As they broke apart, John's wet tongue flicked across Sherlock's lower lip.

"———— Satisfied?"

"Yes. Entirely. The best birthday present I've ever been given."

"Well — glad to hear it."

Still scowling, John shrugged. Then something occurred to him, and he glanced at his watch.

"Hang on — didn't you say Molly was coming round?"

"Ah. Yes. We're meeting at a cake place."

"A cake place. Well, it's your birthday. There has to be cake."

The two of them scrambled into their coats. It was a thing they had done hundreds of times in this flat, but today, somehow, the cold of the fabric felt new.

"Do you suppose a sugar high would do instead of the drugs?"

"What? What are you on about? Behave yourself."

Their first banter in a very long time. It fitted so exactly that they both laughed a little.

"———— John. Thank you. For the birthday present."