#@december prompt

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 3 - Crime Scene

It would have been a good fifteen minutes later, in the cab when Sherlock and John finally spoke.

John was looking out the window, deep in thought, uncommunicative. He had seemingly forgotten the earlier trauma, but then, as the cab moved past a particularly dark section of a building, he was greeted by his own reflection back at him from the window glass, triggering a renewed cry. “I’m green, Sherlock!” he said again.

“I am aware,” Sherlock replied calmly.

“You are responsible, you mean?”

“John, I’m sorry. I truly am. If I thought you’d believe me that it was accidental—“

“Green!,” John said again, sulking back out the window. “How am I supposed to explain this when we arrive at the crime scene?”

Sherlock sat in silence for a moment and then sucked in a breath. “I have an idea,” he finally offered. He leaned forward and redirected the cab.

John had turned his head to watch, a slight frown on his ridiculous green face. Sherlock didn’t fill him in. He simply gave John a reassuring nod and sat back in the seat.

“I’m not sure I trust your good ideas any more,” John said.

“John,” he scolded back. “It should only last a day or two. It was simply a chemical reaction between some products and it will simply lose its potency as your natural body oils—“

“Enough Sherlock,” John groaned angrily. “I don’t want to know.” He let out a frustrated sigh, throwing them back into silence for a while. “So the case then?” he finally managed to ask.

“Ah yes,” Sherlock replied, clapping his hands together. “Missing person. Supposedly. Ended up dead in another home. There is some confusion about his identity.”

“Right.” John waited for more information but that was apparently all he was getting.

“Any indication how the victim died?” he asked.

“Well, apparently stabbed.”

“Apparently?” John looked confused. “Surely that would be obvious enough?”

“Apparently not.”

“I see…” John said, his brain now whirring with possibilities. “No, actually, I don’t see. I don’t think I understand at all.”

“John, you have so little patience. Sometimes things need time to become apparent,” he said mysteriously.

There was a strange look on his face when he said it. John wondered if he was talking about the crime scene at all now or if he had heard more of Mrs Hudson’s words than he had let on.

“Sherlock…?”

“Ah! Here we are,” he announced as the cab pulled up, ignoring John. “We won’t be long, he announced to the cabbie as he leapt out. “If you’re happy to stay, I will compensate you for your time.”

John sat for a moment, completely confused. He made eye contact with the cabbie who was watching him, probably judging him.

Sherlock poked his head back inside the cab. “Are you coming?” he demanded.

“Me?” John asked innocently.

“Yes, Miss Elpheba. You,” Sherlock said, running off ahead again.

“Hey!” John cried out, offended. “You think I don’t know musical references? I’m not a complete heathen!” He shared a look with the cabbie again who couldn’t help giggling before John leapt out, chasing after his cruel flatmate. Surely Mrs Hudson’s observations were off. Sherlock was bloody enjoying this far too much. Not a caring bone in that body of his.

They headed down a narrow side street between some shops and when they rounded the corner there was a quaint little shop at the other end.

“I thought…” John began when he finally caught up.

“What?” Sherlock asked.

“I thought we were at the crime scene…” John said, looking at the shop. “Is this…?”

“A solution. For you,” Sherlock offered.

There was something uncomfortable about Sherlock’s posture all of a sudden. He seemed unsure, as if he finally knew he needed to make amends properly. After all, he had said he was sorry - an accidental outcome of a hypothesis and so on. But did that mean anything at all? To John it was just words. More of Sherlock’s words. But maybe, just maybe he actually did want to fix it as best as he could manage.

Besides, there was no way John was staying home when there was an interesting crime scene to look at. It had been ages since they’d had an interesting crime scene to go to. Actually, now that he thought about it, that probably explained the rogue experiments.

“Well, come on then,” John said, in a more gentle tone. “There’s a crime scene waiting for us. We better come up with a solution.”

With that he took the last few steps confidently and walked into the shop.

—-

@notjustamumj @lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @221beloved @safedistancefrombeingsmart @givemesherbet-blog-blog @naefelldaurk @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884

[literaryvein-references]

When your Character...

Gets into: A Fight ⚜ ...Another Fight ⚜ ...Yet Another Fight

Hates Someone ⚜ Kisses Someone ⚜ Falls in Love

Calls Someone they Love ⚜ Dies / Cheats Death ⚜ Drowns

is...

A Ballerina ⚜ A Child ⚜ Interacting with a Child ⚜ A Cheerleader

A Cowboy ⚜ A Genius ⚜ A Lawyer ⚜ A Pirate ⚜ A Spy

A Wheelchair User ⚜ A Zombie ⚜ Beautiful ⚜ Dangerous ⚜ Drunk

Funny ⚜ In a Coma ⚜ In a Secret Society ⚜ Injured ⚜ Shy

needs...

A Magical Item ⚜ An Aphrodisiac ⚜ A Fictional Poison

A Coping Strategy ⚜ A Drink ⚜ A Medicinal Herb ⚜ A Mentor

Money ⚜ A Persuasion Tactic ⚜ A Quirk ⚜ To be Killed Off

To Become Likable ⚜ To Clean a Wound ⚜ To Self-Reflect

To Find the Right Word, but Can't ⚜ To Say No ⚜ To Swear

loves...

Astronomy ⚜ Baking ⚜ Cooking ⚜ Cocktails ⚜ Food ⚜ Oils

Dancing ⚜ Fashion ⚜ Gems ⚜ Herbal Remedies ⚜ Honey

Mushrooms ⚜ Mythology ⚜ Numbers ⚜ Perfumes

Roses ⚜ Sweets ⚜ To Argue ⚜ To Insult ⚜ To Kiss

To Make False Claims ⚜ Wine ⚜ Wine-Tasting ⚜ Yoga

has/experiences...

Allergies ⚜ Amnesia ⚜ Bereavement ⚜ Bites & Stings

Bruises ⚜ Caffeine ⚜ CO Poisoning ⚜ Color Blindness

Facial Hair ⚜ Fainting ⚜ Fevers ⚜ Food Allergies

Food Poisoning ⚜ Fractures ⚜ Frostbite ⚜ Hypothermia

Injuries ⚜ Jet Lag ⚜ Kidnapping ⚜ Manipulation ⚜ Mutism

Pain ⚜ Paranoia ⚜ Poisoning ⚜ More Pain & Violence

Scars ⚜ Trauma ⚜ Viruses ⚜ Wounds

[these are just quick references. more research may be needed to write your story...]

Writing Resources PDFs

[hanasnx]

need to be on my back in front of clark, my hips propped up on a pillow and his thick thighs as he plunges his fat cock into me, his eyes trained on the bulge he can see in my lower abdomen everytime he bottoms out. need to feel his hand push down against the bulge, a soft curse passing through his lips as he basically jacks himself off beneath the plush of my skin.

MINORS DNI 18+

NOTES: DC is for December Event! — request DC characters.

“Fuck...” those plump lips form while CLARK KENT’s big hand is pushing down on the bulge in your tummy, and your bladder is getting all stingy because his tip is prodding that spongy spot in you. His teeth sink into himself, trying to stay grounded while he’s watching you reverently, pupils dilated to a full darkness.

“Clark,” you whine, wiggling your hips under his pin, and it only serves to wobble the head of his dick up in your guts.

“You’re so tight, baby, you sure this is okay?” Those pretty eyes flicker up to meet yours, and you just can’t say no to him. The burn of the stretch is one of your favorite things, and you give him the slightest nod. You’re rewarded by a glimmer in his gaze, returning to observe how your little body looks underneath him while he does whatever he wants to it. “I’m not even halfway in…” he says in awe, and you keen in response.

You waver, drawing in a shaky breath while he starts massaging. “Clark,” you try again, “if you keep doing that I’m gonna squirt.” you warn, but he can tell you’re a little embarrassed to be talking like that.

“Yeah?” he tests, that excited look blooming on his handsome features. “Yeah, duchess, you gonna squirt on my cock?”

[andalorii]

Fave - the Plumed Autumntail

daily december familiars! following Osiem's prompt list!!

the plumed autumntail is obviously the best familiar and has no contenders.

[astronomodome]

Could you do an eldritch pearlescentmoon or a fae pearlescentmoon, please? :3

how about a little of both? :3

[otpin-arts]

Day 1: Bundled up

[scealaiscoite]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ。 ﾟ。　 december prompts

　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

¹⁾ warm tequila

²⁾ a broken teapot

³⁾ knees pressed into soft carpet

⁴⁾ saltwater

⁵⁾ red wine

⁶⁾ overprotective

⁷⁾ bitter coffee

⁸⁾ a sous chef

⁹⁾ mismatched socks

¹⁰⁾ lips against a hipbone

¹¹⁾ sawdust

¹²⁾ a brown leather belt

¹³⁾ rusty nails

¹⁴⁾ silent films

¹⁵⁾ doctor’s orders

¹⁶⁾ a gold tooth

¹⁷⁾ an attic

¹⁸⁾ tall evergreen

¹⁹⁾ a hotel bar

²⁰⁾ old friends

²¹⁾ white silk

²²⁾ a breakup

²³⁾ ursa major

²⁴⁾ a necklace knotted around a fist

²⁵⁾ bodyguards

²⁶⁾ a wax-sealed envelope

²⁷⁾ weathered boxing gloves

²⁸⁾ figs

²⁹⁾ a safehouse

³⁰⁾ spiral stairs

³¹⁾ last call

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Microfic

One More Step

December prompt: time

485 words

Rating: G

No warnings apply

@steddiemicrofic

“C’mon, Eds,” Steve whispers. He’s ignoring the physical therapist to their side, ignoring the doctors walking by the open door. He’s focused completely on Eddie, the way he takes an extra-deep breath before barreling through the motion, swinging one leg in front to take a halting, shuddering step forward. “Good,” Steve whispers. “Good, Eds, almost there, c’mon, one more step. You got this. Just one more step.”

“Steve,” Eddie whispers, closing his eyes and lowering his head. “Think ‘m gonna fall.”

“I’ll catch you,” Steve swears. “But you haven’t fallen yet, Eddie. One more step. Then we can go back to your room. Whaddya wanna do? Read? Watch TV?”

Eddie snorts. “Y’mean make f-fun of- of, uh.” He sighs out a breath, wobbles. “The characters.”

“Yeah, like I said, watch TV.” He grins at Eddie, his excitement growing as Eddie takes the final step.

His knees buckle, and he throws his arms out toward Steve, who swoops in and catches him, helps him get his feet back underneath him, shoulders most of his weight as they hobble back to the wheelchair.

Steve never thought he’d enjoy physical therapy. He doesn’t enjoy seeing people in pain. But he does love seeing people triumph, try to push through the pain to success.

Or, maybe, it’s his patient that makes all the difference.

He never thought he’d enjoy physical therapy, and he never thought he’d end up friends with the freak of Hawkins High, but somehow both of those things happened, and now he’s standing in front of the physical therapist as he proclaims Steve ready to assist Eddie on his own.

“He’s set to be released at the end of the week,” the therapist tells Steve, who nods. He’d gotten the same information from the doctor that morning. “He’ll need to do these exercises every day. Is that something you’d be willing and able to do?”

“Definitely,” Steve nods firmly.

The therapist smiles, shakes his hand. “Then congratulations on your first patient,” he jokes, but Steve’s smile as he turns to Eddie couldn’t be more real.

“You ready to get outta here?”

Eddie huffs a tired laugh. “No offense, Doc, but if I never have to come back it’ll be too soon.”

He just laughs, waving them out.

The exercises don’t get easier to do, but Eddie gets stronger, and he’s able to walk more. Soon enough he’s walking almost the full length of the hallway upstairs.

“C’mon, Eds,” Steve tells him, at the other end of the hallway. “You’ve got this.”

Eddie’s first few steps are easy, confident. About halfway through he slows down, and by the time he’s two steps away from Steve, he’s wobbling. “C’mon, Eds,” Steve whispers, an echo of the first time. “One more step.”

He manages the last two steps, falls into Steve’s arms. “Thank you,” he whispers, painting the lightest of kisses onto Steve’s lips.

Steve grins and kisses back.

[bebemoon]

"christmas night at the opera" for @cygnetprincess .

"give these red roses to your prima donna- ! wish her a 'happy new year' for me !"

[nosebleedclub]

December Prompts

dusting

reindeer

to the mountains

couplet

mining town

coffee maker

lace gloves

terrier

pencil

Protestant

acrostic

spare time

mugwort

dirge

Las Vegas

squash

old town

soliloquy

practical joke

myna bird

winter faerie

out west

dinner with mother

balsam

chicken

incense

sublime

sabre

gossip column

previous inhabitants

suit and tie

[theinfamousmaybelle]

May I present...KINDCEMBER!

I HAD TO DO A 4000 x 4000 CANVAS JUST TO FIT ALL OF THIS, PLEASE DO IT- DO YOU REALIZE HOW LAGGY IT GOT!? 😭😭😭

@aquaequa commented on a post by @/alexandraisyes and so we (me and Aqua) decided to make a thing called Kindcember. Just finished it! Basically, you say some things you like about the characters listed! You can even do UNLISTED characters!

@annakenziesworld @dagh0stking @silly-a-777 @adumblittlegachakid @multifandomcutie13 @meagancandraw @superstar8bongos @tsams-and-co-memes @ryomaandgundhamkin @ayyy-imma-ninja @purple-ana16 @lunar-solarsystem @that-one-unknown-artist @bluefireskiesfox and anyone else...I feel weird tagging ppl who aren't my moots, but you guys are a positive force in the community, and so I feel I can trust you. Apologies for tagging! If you'd like your tag removed, please tell me. If you wanna tag anyone else, go ahead. Please don't hate me for tagging you- please-

[royalarchivist]

Aimsey: [While watching a Hideduo compilation, and seeing Fit message Pac "It's going to be ok"] Aww... That's fcked! Wait, what is it? "Sau–" wait, hold on. How do you say that? "Saudades?"

[He plays a clip of someone pronouncing Saudades and repeats the word several times to copy the pronunciation]

Aimsey: Ohhh, nostalgia! [Reading the definition] "Saudades is a word in Portuguese that claims no direct translation in English. However, a close translation in English would be "desiderium," defined as an ardent desire or longing, especially a feeling of loss or grief for something lost."

Aimsey: It's like "Hiraeth," yeah! It's like the Welsh word! Guys, I can teach you something! Wait- wait- wait– Chat I can teach you something!!! So, in Wales, in Welsh, we have a similar word! We have a similar word, ok? Um... [She plays an audio clip of someone pronouncing "Hiraeth"] Ok, ok, hold on, hold on. We have a similar word, yeah. So, in Welsh, there is the term "Hiraeth," which is a home– ok, I'm gonna explain: "Hiraeth" is a homesickness– lemme, lemme say it in chat... [They type out the word and verbally spell it out letter by letter] I'm gonna spam it.

Aimsey: SO! In Welsh, we have a very similar word, and the- like, the description for it is basically a deep longing for something, especially someone's home. And it's like a homesickness. [Pauses] And there are no direct English translation, but it basically mean like, a homesickness tinged with grief and sadness over the lost or departed. [Reading chat] Yes, you're all saying it right! Yeah, you're all saying it right! You're all saying it right!

Aimsey learns what "saudades" means, and teaches chat a similar word in Welsh. One of my favorite things about QSMP is seeing people learning about other cultures and seeing them get SO EXCITED when they get an opportunity to share their own culture or language with others :')💕

[mrsjellymunson]

⏱ Time Me ⏱

Written for the @steddiemicrofic December prompt ‘time’ | WC target: 485 | Rating: E 🔞 MDNI NSFW | CW: Smoking weed, allusions to other drugs, oral sex, a little bit of longing? | Tags: Pre-S4, enemies to enemies-with-benefits?

“Hey, King Steve. Watcha doin’?”

Eddie yells sarcastically towards the sports field on his way to his spot in the woods, watching Steve Harrington. He’s running up and down the worn-out track, checking his probably-much-fancier-than-Eddie’s digital watch every time he stops.

Steve punches a button and frowns, muttering a goddamnit before turning to face the least athletic-looking person he’s ever met.

“Just trying to improve my times, break my own record.”

Bitingly, he adds,

“Not that you’d know anything about self-improvement, freak.”

Eddie blows a derisory raspberry with his lips, lifts his arm and shakes his lunchbox.

“Well, if you’re interested I’ve got some things in here that might help.”

Steve responds,

“No thanks, I’m against artificial enhancement. And I don’t think a blunt’ll make me run any faster either. Most likely the opposite.”

Eddie retorts, sardonically,

“Maybe not, but I sure know a thing or two about post-game relaxation. You’ve gotta balance your training, Steve.”

He smirks, concluding,

“It might make you care a little less about your timings, too.”

Eddie cackles as he wanders off between the trees, leaving Steve to watch his retreating form with incredulity, and a little fascination, on his face.

That first time was coincidental. Steve, intrigued, followed Eddie into the woods, and they shared one of Eddie’s pre-rolls. Steve’s sprint times did indeed slip from his mind, and they talked and laughed more than either’d anticipated. Perhaps they’d leaned in and bumped shoulders a little too often. Perhaps Steve also spent a little too long staring at Eddie’s lips. Perhaps Eddie’d liked it a little too much…

Now, Steve finds out when Eddie’s going to be in his spot, and then takes some private track time exactly then. To work on his sprint, or whatever.

Moments after his battered lunchbox clatters against the old table, Eddie’s on his knees in the dirt, his own cock in his hand. Steve, with his head thrown back and arms spread across the edge of the tabletop, groans as his sweaty shorts are pulled aside and his long cock fills Eddie’s mouth and starts to nudge the back of his throat.

Eddie’s already taken it as a personal challenge to see how fast he can make Steve cum. Now he’s worked out what gets him going, it’s become surprisingly easy. Self-improvement, right?

But today, instead of a quick blowie in the woods, he wants Steve to stay a bit longer. Maybe agree to do this somewhere a little nicer, perhaps even somewhere indoors. He pulls off of Steve with a wet smack, continuing to fondle his balls and languidly stroke his own dick with his other hand.

Confused, Steve’s head drops forward, and their eyes connect. Smiling salaciously, Eddie murmurs,

“So, Stevie, right now I don't want you to finish in record time. How about we see if we can set another record? Today, I wanna see how long you can last…”

Thanks so much for reading!

You can find more Eddie and Steddie in my masterlist, and my general taglist is open, just ask 🖤

Taggidy-waggidy: @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @in2tswft @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @losingmygrasponreality @richter-raccoon @1deverland @evileyeandthecattywhumps

[hanasnx]

Jason Todd probably has a size kink. I mean, look at those biteable arms 😋 He probably towers over reader too.

MINORS DNI 18+

NOTES: DC is for December Event! — request DC characters.

“Get over here.” JASON TODD snatches up your arm, yanking you over against your will until your stomach collides with his shoulder, hoisting you up above the ground.

“I’m not going with you! Let me down!” you shout, flailing your limbs disobediently while he straps an arm around your thighs to secure you. Lumbering off with you in hand, he ignores your protests.

Times like these, Jason really likes to remind you how easy it is to overpower you. You think you’re going to hold your ground, but when your boyfriend’s plans conflict with yours, you’re often the loser. He won’t lie and say he doesn’t enjoy seeing your attitude fizzle out knowing it’s futile—a little smirk pricks the corner of his mouth because of it.

When things heat up, he uses it to his advantage, his domineering personality cohesively complimenting with his tank of a body as he wrestles you down. “What’re you gonna do, kid?” he taunts while you try to regain some control, but you can’t roll him over. “Gonna show me what’s what? Teach me a lesson?” All that talk spurs you on, but it doesn’t last, eventually conceding to him. A long, thick rod punctures your exterior, and it’s greeted with a warm, wet embrace. Fucking up your little guts while he holds you down.

“You’re so-o-o big, Jason-n…” you drag the words out as you struggle to remain coherent, and his dick twitches hard inside you at the mention of his size.

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 11 - Ribbons

“Brother?” Mycroft asked, surprised to see Sherlock at his door.

“Yes, well, no need to stare,” he snapped, pushing past his brother and into the apartment. He moved straight to the kitchen, unravelled his scarf, placing it on the counter, and grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl, biting into it aggressively.

Mycroft watched as Sherlock paced alongside the kitchen counter in silence. He did this when he was worked up. He’d spit it out eventually. While he waited, Mycroft grabbed a crystal tumbler and opened his freezer to pull out some vodka. He poured himself a bit and then held it up in question to his brother. Sherlock waved him off impatiently. Apparently drinking wouldn’t help. Mycroft knew to wait in silence until Sherlock was prepared to speak.

“He’s just… so infuriating!” Sherlock finally burst out with.

“I can only assume you mean John.”

Sherlock flashed his brother an angry glare.

“Want me to have another little talk with him?” Mycroft offered.

“Don’t you dare,” Sherlock snapped, pointing his half devoured apple at his brother.

“Okay but you’re here. You have… feelings to express apparently.”

“Huh. Feelings.” Sherlock scoffed and continued to pace in silence for a time and Mycroft let him. “The thing is, there’s this case. And John’s reaction has been… difficult to understand.”

“Right…”

“When he first moved in, he asked…” Sherlock paused, looking at his brother to assess his level of judgement. Mycroft wasn’t giving anything away.

“He asked me about my situation.”

“Situation?” Mycroft asked.

Sherlock simply gave his brother a look in answer and continued. “Yes, and I said the usual.”

“Not your area?” Mycroft checked.

“Quite so.”

“Seems reasonable,” Mycroft agreed. “You barely knew each other and given Dr Watson’s hobby of serial dating, I can’t see how—“

“He’s bisexual.”

“Oh? I hadn’t… spotted that.”

“Well he covers it well,” Sherlock mumbled, clearly irritated by it.

“He told you this?” Mycroft asked.

“No.”

“Okay… then…” Mycroft was confused.

“Only, now, we’re dealing with a case and it seems to really be bothering him. I can’t understand how it should bother him, though, if he is also…”

“Not publicly though,” Mycroft suggested. “Publicly, he makes a point of being straight.”

“True. Although to be precise he always says he’s not gay.”

Mycroft paused. He didn’t like seeing his brother so distressed. It often coincided with danger nights. “Sherlock, won’t you sit. The pacing is… distracting.”

Sherlock hesitated, ready to argue as usual and instead pulled out a stool and sat at the centre bench.

Mycroft relaxed against the opposite bench. “So tell me,” he began, before taking a sip of vodka. “I can decipher why the case might be bothering John - perhaps some hidden truths he’s not ready to acknowledge - but why is it bothering you so?”

Sherlock munched quietly on his apple for a while.

And Mycroft sighed. “Oh. I hadn’t noticed it before. But now I see it.”

“What?” Sherlock asked, annoyed.

“You love him.”

Sherlock instantly choked on a piece of apple and stood up again, beating at his chest to move the piece of apple lodged there. He shot his brother an angry glare.

Mycroft simply stood watching his brother flail about dramatically with a knowing smirk. “Confirmed,” he said, when Sherlock finally sat again. Without a word he grabbed another glass and poured his brother some vodka after all, sliding the glass across to him. “I can’t believe I hadn’t seen it until now,” he said.

“Well you are the slow one,” Sherlock teased, taking a sip and sitting back down.

“Lucky for you John is the slowest.”

Sherlock gave him another annoyed look.

“What do you need then?” Mycroft asked more gently.

“He’s oblivious. Irritatingly so. I don’t think he’s aware of his own identity. I can’t… see a way past it.”

Mycroft took a leisurely sip of his drink. “When we were children, Mummy used to read us a book. I don’t know if you remember it. Well, she read it to me and so I assume to you also. The one with the ribbons?” Mycroft asked.

Sherlock frowned. “Why would I keep a children’s book in my mind palace?”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Well the gist of it was about two people who loved each other so much that a connection grew. Two ribbons that tied them together. Tied their hearts together. And everywhere they went these ribbons connected them. No matter how far, the ribbons just grew long enough to keep them connected. I think Mummy used to read it so we understood that when they travelled so much, we were all still connected through love.” He huffed then, realising how it sounded. “The idea that someone could fly to another country entirely and still have their ribbons remaining connected is, of course, completely ridiculous and romanticised. Children are so gullible and stupid,” he scoffed.

Sherlock laughed. “Speak for yourself. I clearly dismissed it early on, which is why I hold no memory of it. I never took you for such a romantic, though.”

Mycroft snorted, looking down at his drink. “Actually, I loved that book so much. I used to read it to myself even when they were away. There was something… hopeful in it,” he admitted. “I think part of the reason I’ve remained single is because I refused to give any time to anyone who wasn’t worth that kind of love. I never found it.”

“You’re not dead yet, brother,” Sherlock said, suddenly feeling very sorry for his older sibling. Sherlock did tease him constantly about being a sad, lonely old man, but in truth he had always hoped Mycroft might find someone to share his life with.

“It’s fine. I’m… comfortable,” he said stiffly. They remained together in silence for a long time. Finally, Mycroft decided to impart his wisdom.

“When I first met John. When I picked him up and tested him, I was… quite taken aback. He was nothing like any of your other friends. He was instantly loyal, virtually unshakeable, in fact, yet with a vulnerability he tried desperately to hide. I couldn’t have found a more perfect partner for you, with all the resources I have at my disposal. The two of you connected instantly and I saw it.”

Sherlock looked up. “Saw what?”

“Ribbons,” he said softly, finishing his drink. Sherlock looked taken aback.

“You want my advice?”

“Please,” Sherlock said, watching his brother closely.

“John has trust issues, yet he trusts you. But he doesn’t really trust himself. He’s never going to tell you he has an interest. He’s never going to admit to being bisexual. He’s going to assume you are too far above his station in life. He’s going to assume you have deduced everything about him, including any feelings he has about you. He knows how you operate. He will expect you can see and hear his every thought and are wilfully ignoring them out of disinterest. I suspect all it would take, to win him, is to make the first move and he would topple over the cliff with you.”

“I see,” Sherlock said, swallowing hard.

“That is, if he will allow himself to admit he has feelings for a man. He could just as easily deny it to the death,” Mycroft added.

“Well that’s been very helpful,” Sherlock said, the comment dripping with sarcasm.

“You asked,” Mycroft replied smugly.

Sherlock stood and reattached his scarf to his neck. He swallowed the last of the vodka and gave his brother a little bow.

“Thank you brother. I will take that advice with the usual level of disregard that I always give it.”

Mycroft pursed his lips tight. He had tried.

And with that, Sherlock stormed out of the apartment again, out into the snow.

— —

Thanks @notjustamumj for the prompt list

@lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @safedistancefrombeingsmart @naefelldaurk @a-victorian-girl @peanitbear @starlitkeys @lumilama @yorkiepug @talkativeanxiousturtle @kettykika78 @kittenmadnessandtea @whatnext2020 @egregiously-chuffed @chriscalledmesweetie @catlock-holmes @battledress @kholkate @randomquadballpun @221beloved @little-owls-things @daltongraham @sillygirlsmindpalace @phoenix27884

@oetkb12 @odditiesandeverything @johnlockficclub @rainstarboii @bheadhe

@hospitableasacactus @wssh13 @br-nz

[falsesecuritysketches]

You look human, you sound human, but what are you really?