I have invested at least half an hour a night for the last week, reading a fic that I'd been looking forward to - and I'm so disappointed. The premise of the fic hooked me but from the start the characters were so wildly OOC that I was struggling. Kept thinking "oh, it has to get better, they can't go on like this" but no, John was still this weak semi-catatonic shadow of himself - even when he was finally shocked into action he was still not-John. And Sherlock was so not-Sherlock that I only mildly eye-rolled towards the end when he took himself off to sleep in Mycroft's bed because he was too upset to sleep alone. Tucked in with his big brother for comfort. As you do, in your mid thirties.
Late on Saturday night I started an email to my sister that contained a cut-and-paste of every time Sherlock "pressed a kiss to John's temple" or variations thereof, just in one chapter. Eight times. If it had been a drinking game I'd have been well hammered. Still, having put so much time into it, and still being curious to see if either of them would ever revert to form, I had to finish it.