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Harbors – janto321 (FaceofMer) – Sherlock (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Sherlock (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Characters: Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade
Additional Tags: Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort
Summary:
Greg and Mycroft both have nightmares, each in their own way. But they also have the other to comfort when they come.
Hurt/Comfort is such an interesting thing. It’s basically an entire genre of fanfiction. I’d argue it satisfies a very basic, vital need–the same way that horror satisfies the basic need to be scared in a safe, controllable space.
And yet it doesn’t really have an equivalent outside of fan culture. "Tearjerkers” can sometimes come close, they’re probably the closest thing to a mainstream hurt/comfort genre that there is. But those types of books and movies don’t usually focus on the “comfort” aspect in the same way, and don’t make use of tension and release.
I think every good hurt/comfort fic makes use of tension and release just as horror does,
whether the writer is consciously aware of it or not. Though of course the tension and release in h/c comes from different sources than in horror. Instead of anticipating something frightening, you anticipate the intimacy and/or validation that comes from the “comfort” part you know is eventually coming. That’s what provides release of the tension built up during the “hurt” scenes.
I could write a goddamned essay about this it’s so fascinating.
This is a great definition/analysis of it! I’ve been interested in this too. It’s always been my favorite fanfiction genre. It’s to the point where reading just angst is not enough, there is something left unfulfilled if the character does not have the ‘tension and release’ and just remains under whatever stressor at the end. I think part of the reason I like it so much, is often in mainstream media characters DO NOT have that ‘healing moment’, shall we say. Too often, there may be a sad/traumatic/stressful event and the character is shown to just pick themselves up from it and move on like nothing happened. Which is not realistic as we all know, so I think the hurt/comfort genre in fanfiction is a kind of a response to that. The “filling in the blanks” of when a character needs a moment of healing or validation to continue onward, because that in a sense is more relatable then the “super hero” character who can move through it like nothing damaged them.
Hope in the Darkness (1748 words) by janto321
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Sherlock (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mycroft Holmes
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Injury, First Kiss, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Watching, Post-His Last Vow
Summary:Sometimes nearly losing makes you realize what you have.
Feels like way too long since I posted something.
teaser below the cut
It was bound to happen sooner or later. And of course it was late on a rainy London night. John groaned as Sherlock hovered over him, rain dripping from his flattened curls, hands fluttering and panic in his eyes.
“Put pressure on it and call an ambulance.” John was calm; one of them had to be.
“I’m sorry…” Sherlock started.
“Shut up,” snapped John, biting back a wince as Sherlock used his scarf to try and stop the bleeding. It was all too much like sgt, only John was the one that was hurt. The suspect was unconscious a few feet away, only the fact that John was in need of attention had saved his life.
Sherlock fumbled with his mobile as he tried to keep pressure like John had taught him. The doctor focused on breathing slowly, watching him and listening as he called the ambulance. “Don’t forget our suspect,” reminded John.
Shutting off his phone, Sherlock turned back to his Doctor. Their hands found one another in the dark and John relaxed in his grip. “It’ll be okay.”
Sherlock gave wry smile. “Shouldn’t I be reassuring you?”
“Well, I’ve had more practice.” John adjusted the hand providing pressure before looking back up at Sherlock’s eyes. “I’m a free man now, you know. The divorce was finalized two weeks ago.”
“I am aware.” The hand in his trembled slightly. John squeezed as the sound of sirens split the night.
“They’ll probably keep me overnight, but it’s not that bad a wound. I should be back in Baker Street tomorrow.” Sherlock started to pull his hand away at the sound of rushing feet, but John held him in place, holding his eyes. “I don’t think we still need two rooms.”
Tackled this Sabriel prompt in honor of mutant!anon’s birthday on Tuesday! <3
Dean started another mindless lap around the table in the bunker library. “…So, uh, he’s fine now, but if you wanted to check up on him, you can pop by whenever–”
A sudden crackle in the air startled him out of his casual prayer. Dean turned, directly into a facefull of seething archangel.
“Why didn’t you call me earlier?” Gabriel growled. His brows were set dangerously low, and Dean could feel the hair on his neck prickling as he involuntarily took a step backward.
“I wasn’t there, some woman found him unconscious and called an ambulance–”
Gabriel vanished in another sharp crack before he could finish.
So, after all the happy fluffy johnlock, I wrote a dark little fic:
Night Dark Like Bruises: John’s been rescued, but he’s badly beaten. Sherlock comforts him, then seeks to release his anger in the night.
Stuck a graphic depiction of violence tag on there, I don’t think it’s that bad, but if you’re sensitive, you might want to skip this one.
Teaser below the cut
Sherlock stopped in the doorway to Johns room. He lay in just his pants, mercifully asleep after the night he’d had. A gash showed along his temple and his bare back and shoulders were covered in bruises, trailing down to his thighs and even a couple on his calves. The wrists were still raw from where he’d been bound. Sherlocks fists clenched as he remembered finding John
All the evidence showed John had been beaten after he was bound. Lestrade made no comment when Sherlock had quietly broken the kneecap of one of the men. He’d insisted on taking John home to rest, deducing most of the wounds were superficial.
Raising his head, John regarded Sherlock. “Just going to stare?”
Sherlock dropped his dressing gown and crossed the room. Crawling across the bed he nudged John’s legs apart and leaned over his battered back to kiss his neck. John groaned, then whimpered as the kiss turned into a bite.