Wings-for-dreams Carrying you homeCivil-War-Casualty
“What the bloody hell are we doing out here Sherlock?” John called up to the consulting detective who was standing on top of a rocky outcrop overlooking the river. The air was biting cold, but that was London for you, Sherlock was inspecting some rocks on top of the outcrop while John waited below. The soldier heard Sherlock’s shoes scuff the rock and a few pebbles fell down,
“Careful up there Sherlock, if you fall in I’m not fishing your arse out.” Another scrape, more rocks then he heard the last thing he ever wanted to hear.
“John...John! Help.” Sherlock was hanging off the rock, great.
“H-hold on Sherlock, I’ll be right there!” He began to climb the rocks up to Sherlock, “Come on Sherlock you can hold on.” His shoulder wasn’t meant to be doing this and they both knew it too.
“John don’t, your shoulder.” Sherlock said, his voice was strained and he could hear more rocks coming loose
Time to Know, an Avengers/Superfamily ficTime to Know, an Avengers FanfictionPiano-Over-Memories
Pairing: StevexTony, Superhusbands, Superfamily
Description: There has been a series of terrorist attack on STARK building throughout the city, Captain America and Ironman are out all night, putting out fires, saving lives, and trying their best to figure out who is doing this. Little do they know however that their son is a well known hero himself, and tonight he plans on lending a hand, all the while somehow making sure they don't find out that it's him.
Sirens blared, people were screaming, and all Peter was doing was sitting on his couch, staring at a uselessly large high definition television, wondering if his dads were okay. He sat there, knee's held closely to his chest, and glanced at a nearby clock. Three o'clock in the morning. He should be in bed, like his parents thought he was when they left, but it was nights like this Peter Parker Stark-Rogers almost never slept, not when he knew something dreadful was going
The Mystery and Melancholy of a Street
Sherlock BBC x Alice: Madness Returns
Title based on Giorgio de Chirico's 1914 Surrealist painting of the same name.
'Underneath this reality in which we live and have our being, another and altogether different reality lies concealed.' -Friedrich Nietzsche
Sherlock never tells anyone about his dreams, not even John. He finds it rather embarrassing, really, to admit to having something that dominates his brain function at night and allows it to run rampage among the illogicality of the subconscious, an aspect of which he deems incredibly unnerving. He cannot fathom the notion of losing control over his mind, when it is meant to act as the most important physical and intellectual support of his entire well-being. He is supposed to be the one who dominates it, not, and never, the other way around.
Or at least this is what he constantly tells himself.
When Sherlock had his fifth nightmare last night (the first