for a fake fic title: lavender

Lavender

represents purity, silence, devotion, serenity, grace, and calmness

A calm wind leaves an icy kiss upon his face as if in greeting once he crossed the threshold of the cottage backdoor: An early promise of autumn leaves and scarf shopping that was due in a month. His eyes sweep across their little garden, noting the array of colours that lessened the dullness of the countryside view, lingering for a moment over the lavenders that remind him of their need to be pruned once fall arrives, before finally settling over the bustle of long limbs and greying curls tending to the beehives that occupy quite a large part of their yard. John mindlessly lets out a breath of fond contentment, settling against one of the rocking chairs they have bought off a secondhand store on a whim, and just lets himself bask in the last remnants of summer sun. His eyes follow Sherlock's routine, quietly observing the man’s ministrations as he tends to his beloved bees. A curl of his lips revealed the warmth that ensconced itself inside his chest, feeling very much as if the sun’s golden light had seeped through the pores of his skin and made a home in his heart. John finds himself stealing a quick mental image of this memory, engraving it next to all the others that he holds dear, hoping that the wear of age will never blur them out. 

It had been years since the last time he had much thrill shoot through his spine like ecstasy. Those were back then, when adrenaline ran high between alleyways and on rooftops. Then, during sleepless nights and conversations between him and his Consulting Detective regarding cases that sometimes stretched on for far too long. Then, when the screeches of violin had felt more of a lullaby than a nuisance. Even then, when the grief riddled John into a hollow being, when the pain was too great and the loss was unbearable. Then, when the world collapsed beneath his feet, when the lies and constant betrayal drove him further away from the only person he had realised he wanted and loved. Then, when legs still held up and backs didn’t ache. 

But John finds this new life, in contrast to back then, much better. Better now that everything trickled like ripples of water in a calm river. It ebbs, it flows. The steady silences, the soothing tea, and the companionship proving to be more than sufficient for John Watson, who was once a man that lived his life at the edge of a precipice. 

Seasons changed, hairs silvered, knees weakened, but John is reassured day and day again that his beloved, who continued to busy himself amongst his bees, will remain the ever constant in this world of change; That the love and devotion that burned like a fireplace, enough to warm two people,  would always survive even the harshest of winters. 

John momentarily takes his eyes off Sherlock, instead drifting over his garden and thinks: I should take care of my lavenders soon. 

i'm so sorry that this took so long, i never noticed the inboxes until recently :( also, i dont't know if i did this fake fic title game right. i just wrote a whole oneshot/drabble based on the 'title' but anyway...

Curious about 'Weathered Down' WIP?

And do you have a link for 'The Broken Hearts Club'? not sure what your AO3 handle is :D 💋

hello!! ooh, good one, that’s a nice angst-filled fic that i’m very excited to finish and post. here’s a snippet:

and yes, here’s the link for TBHC, i hope you enjoy it if you decide to give it a read<3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37882282

thank you lovely<333

Of course. The more the merrier. ❤️

I'm interested in Seventeen Steps and An Ocean Apart.

ooh good one! here it is:

there isn’t much for this fic yet, so there wasn’t anything interesting apart from this scene!

i hope it captures the angst that i’m planning for this! and thank you for sending an ask, i didn’t expect anyone to actually do it so it’s really appreciated <3