http://sussexdowns.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] sussexdowns.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] 221b_recs2011-07-25 11:00 pm

FIC: Hold on Hope

Title: Hold on Hope
Author: [livejournal.com profile] notkerouac
Pairing: John/Lestrade
Length: 10,900 words
Rating: Unrated, but I'd guess PG-13
Verse: Sherlock BBC
Author's summary: Dating John comes with a Sherlock-shaped caveat.

Reccer's comments: Aaaaand, finally the truth comes out: John/Lestrade is my otp. Not joking, they totally are. This pairing has such potential for awkwardness, adorable fluff, and the two of them being scary, sexy BAMFs. Here, [livejournal.com profile] notkerouac deftly handles both the John/Lestrade relationship (which was exactly as I'd half-pictured it when I first started noticing this pairing) and the John/Sherlock bromance. Her Sherlock is both hilarious and kind of a dick, which seems pretty true to his character. He spends a lot of the first half of this fic cockblocking John, but eventually he gets over himself and the three of them start figuring out how they fit into each other's lives.

If you're a fan of the J/L/S dynamic in [livejournal.com profile] thirdbird_fic's Triangulations 'verse, definitely give this one a shot because it is lovely and sweet and all things that are good.


I am glued to the kitchen table. SH.

“Oh, for…” John closes his eyes, presses the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Half a game. We made half a game.”

“Maybe he could just stay glued to the table? He can’t do any more damage if he can’t move, right?” Lestrade asks hopefully, but John’s phone beeps again and the two men look warily at each other before checking the message, heads pressed together to look at the small screen.

There is an experiment boiling on the hob that will explode in nineteen minutes. SH.

“And this is why I will never, ever date Sherlock.” John texts a reply, punching the keys with a little more force than necessary.

Can’t you call Mrs Hudson?

The reply comes back a minute later. Bridge night. Seventeen minutes. SH.

“Of course,” John grits his teeth, and outside from the stands, comes a sudden chorus of cheers and deep shouts, and John’s phone goes again.

You missed a goal. SH.