Dimi_tree
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A lead up and rewrite of "A Study In Pink" if johnlock already lived together and were married.
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Fluff that I wrote with a basic plot because the brain worms got me
Very much not a case fic, whatever nonsense is going on I did not think deeply about it at all... -
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Based off The Magnetic Fields song that shares the title of the fic, chapter names are based on lyrics of the song...
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Doesn't take place during any specific time in the show, I guess if I had to choose, I'd say S1, but I just wanted to write them kissing so.....
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Unnoticed Love at First Sight by Dimi_tree
Fandoms: The Princess Bride - William Goldman
06 Feb 2026
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Prequel fic about how Fezzik and Inigo first met. Based in the book but will still make sense if you haven't read it! Takes place roughly 2 years (?) Before the events of The Princess Bride
Recent bookmarks
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Sherlock complains about an illogical mishap in a movie, then embarrasses himself when proving his own facts wrong minutes later.
Series
- Part 2 of Alphabetic Advent Calendar
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Sherlock never thought he would have this. He's glad he was wrong.
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A small snapshot into the family life of Rosie Watson. She finally gets the parents she deserves. She sometimes has nightmares, but she always knows where to turn to for comfort.
Little Rosie stood just outside, twisting her nightdress and rising up and down on her toes. her curls bounced with her and her lip wobbled. As soon as she saw Sherlock she stretched out her arms in a silent plea to be picked up.
"Come on Rosie, Darling." Sherlock immediately scooped her up and hugged her to his chest.
Bookmarked by Dimi_tree
08 Jun 2026
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During the Baskerville case, John and Sherlock end up with a single room and a single bed.
They intend to stay on their respective sides of the mattress.
Sherlock intends to keep certain feelings firmly unspoken.
Neither plan survives the night. -
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Summary
When you have a fever, you go soft.
First the bones give way. The proud frame collapses, the spine curls into the duvet, folding into a small, stubborn shape that refuses to ask for help.
Then the lips soften—the dry, cracked lips that can’t quite manage a cutting remark. All they can murmur is one word: cold.
And finally, the hand. That hand that plays the violin, that conducts experiments, that points at a crime scene and says “elementary.”
It slips out from under the duvet and catches the fabric of his shirt.
It holds on so gently and yet so tightly.
Not with the usual controlled composure.
But the way a drowning man grabs at driftwood—no technique, only instinct.
Clutching his shirttail. His sleeve. His collar.
It holds on all night long. It doesn’t let go until dawn.
All night he calls his name.
And all night the other answers, “I’m here.”
The truth is, the fever has made him half delirious; he doesn’t even know what he’s calling for.
But each time he calls, a warm hand reaches out and rests on his forehead.
It stays there until he quiets, then slowly withdraws.
...
Bookmarked by Dimi_tree
06 Jun 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
This was so good aughh I love this kinda dynamic with them