#Adlock is the one we should be talking about

[musclesandhammering]

Seeing people turn this into a shipping thing or proof of asexual Sherlock or whatever is actually really annoying, because the point of this scene was to show Sherlock’s internal conflict over maintaining the emotionless machine persona vs admitting that he has feelings and craves human connection.

[inthecloudswithkitten]

These freaks 2.0

So, when i was about 14 or 15 i wrote an adlock/teenlock fanfiction. i was obsessed with sherlock at the time and was a huge adlock shipper. Ive only just been able to find th original fanfic and i thought i would rewrite it at 20 years old as ive not been in uni for a while but hope that my writing has evolved comapre to when i was a teenager. so here it is

i present to you... THESE FREAKS.... the rewrite

THESE FREAKS

I woke up at 6 am with bleary eyes and the thought of one person in my mind…

Him

The wanna be detective

The nerd

The….freak

I didn't see him as a freak but everyone else did. I haven't approached him as I dont think he would be interested. He doesn't seem interested in anyone. He talks to John Watson but thats it really. 

I pull my school jumper over my head and tie my tie around my neck. Worrying about the exam which is fast approaching, I quickly skim my flash cards. Cells and adaptation science filling my head. I want to do well, i want to go to sixth form, i want to get out of here.

Whilst on my way to school, as usual, dad is just on the phone with some white man that obviously has so much privilege it makes my stomach week.

He doesnt even say ‘have a good day’ when i slam the car door. Listening to my playlist, I walk with my head down towards the school yard and walk past all the lad lads and all the popular girls. Sally Donovan and Anthea are picking on Molly Hooper as usual. Molly has been their target this year. The poor mousy girl runs off with her textbooks held tightly against her chest, her arms wrapped around herself as if to hug herself. I should probably go and see if shes ok, but i wont. Dont want to make myself a target do i?

Orla Garlands ‘why am i like this?’ starts playing. How fitting….

Then i see him.

He’s quietly listening to music aswell. I wonder what hes listening to? What lyrics could possibly be projected into his brain? His beautiful brain.

A short boy runs up to him and start screaming about him not being met on the bus. Thats John Watson for you. He’s quite high strung when it comes to Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock Holmes…. What a strange name.

Its not like its ancient like ‘Irene’... I hate my name. Hopefully one day ill grow to love my name. But it wont be today. 

I feel something push my forward and woosh past me. Its Anderson of course. Typical. I dont even know his first name. Hes just weedy and uptight. Hes an arsehole.

The idea of this exam springs into my brain. Christ. I feel like a pit has emerged in my stomach.

Yet he seems absolutely fine. 

He will probably end up going to Oxford or Camrbidge. We wouldn't last anyway. He’d realize how pathetic I am and get bored.

*********************

On my way to form I still listened to my music.Anything to dull the sound of the school bell. That shrill sickens me.I Quietly observe everyone that passes by. Its too busy in these corridors. This school is full of idiots. Well, not all of them are idiots.

She's just fascinating. 

Her hair is so dark, like a raven's feathers. And those eyes.They have a stripping quality. Like the minute you look into them you can feel your guard disintegrate. How does she do it? 

Thats why i dont really speak to her. Its strange that she has this affect on me.

That when i feel something slam into my chest.

Of all people, why did i just propel myself into him. SherlocK Holmes has just been head butted in the chest.

I then look up and see those piercing eyes. They are so interesting. I believe he has that traits where one eye is a different colour to the other. I am deadlocked. Stuck in the vise of those eyes.

I need to say something, ive been staring at him for too long.

‘S-s-sorry….I am not really all there today.’ I chuckle awkwardly hoping that my hair isn't now a mess and i haven't gotten mascara on his shirt. 

‘No worries, its my fault..’ he says in his rich baritone voice. I can nearly feel the boom of his voice in my chest. 

‘Where are you off to?’ i question. 

‘Same place you're going’ he said with a wink.

Stupid…ofcourse….Im so stupid.

‘ Oh…um…ofc course….yeah.’ I couldn't have been more awkward.

‘Walk with me?’ he says, that voice still booming despite the fact that he was speaking quietly. 

‘Yeah sure’ and then we walked slowly to form.

**********

After some conversation about the imminent exam, we get to our form room. 

‘After you’ sherlock says politely. 

‘Um…thanks’ i say shyly. I need to grow some balls. Hes just a boy.

I usually sit on the other side of the classroom than sherlock.

Ofcourse that was till today.

Ofcourse today is the day the room did some swapping around. 

Jim moriarity tried to throw a chair at anderson so the class abit of swapping around.

Anderson sat next to sherlock with Jim next to Anderson.

‘JIM,SWAP WITH IRENE!’ shouted mr Lestrade. 

My head snaps to Sherlock, his head doing the same. I couldnt quite read his face. Was he happy about the decision? Or was it a look of disdain?

I slowly grab my things and swap with Jim. Of course today is the day this happens. I look back at Molly who still has mascara smudged under her eyes. Poor Molly now has to sit next to the most tapped boy in the year.

Of all days she has to sit next to me. This feeling is so abnormal to me….worry.

She slowly makes her way towards me, her slim figure brushing past Mary Morsten.

 ‘Um… hi again’ I rene says with a slight hindrance to her approach.

‘Hi’ i look down at my book and wait to feel the air shift as she sits down. We sit there for a second.

John knows my thoughts on Irene Adler. Hes always had a feeling I thought about her alot. He just knew.

Throughout the class, we would whisper something to eachother. Mainly iy was  her asking about a question in the homework and me explaining it maybe abit too extensively, 

I was surprised she was even speaking to me. I thought she would be messaging her friend Kate or something. Kate was Irene's supposed best friend but I noticed that there was sometimes friction between the two of them. All the boys in the year seemed smitten by Kate and yet no one paid mind to Irene. Irene is so much more interesting than Kate. I've heard rumors about Kate but I don't pay any attention to gossiping.

Charles turned towards myself and Irene and says ‘well,well. Looks like someone is flirting wit the school freak!’ That when Sally chimed in and says ‘Which one?’

The whole class explodes in laughter and murmuring.

I could see Irene's hands shake whilst she grabbed her bag and darted out of the room.

I hate this school. I need to get out of here. 

I dart through the corridor, trying to find a way to escape. 

Then i see the cleaners cupboard and make my way towards it, slamming the door behind me as i enter the room.

Im not going to cry. Im too strong for that.

I then hear two knocks on the door followed by ‘ are you in there, Irene?’

‘Who is it?’ i question

‘Its Sherlock’

Oh god, Oh god. Oh god. Thank god i wasnt crying

I unlock the door and let sherlock in, him locking the door behind him.

‘Um…Hi’ I say. Trying to start a conversation.

‘Hi’ he smiles at me. Ive never really seen his smile before. It was strange but stunning at the same time.

We stand there for a second before i sit down crossed legged. He joins me.

‘How…how do you not let it bother you?’ i ask him. He never seems bothered by the word ‘freak’.

‘They are just idiots’ he says ‘the only word their tiny brains can think of is freak, itys actually quite embarrassing for them’ we then giggle.

Id never looked at it like that.

We stop giggling and look into eachothers eyes.

We are really close to eachother.

‘Youre not a freak’ he says ‘ youre just fascinating’

We are even closer now.

‘And….beautiful’

This was so out of character to me. I never thought he would think anyone was beautiful.

Before I can consider it more, I feel his hand on my face and his lips on mine…

So this is happening. This is actually happening. 

Our lips then detach from eachother… and im stunned.

‘ Wow… that was…that was new’ i say. Im so dumbfounded.

‘Um…sorry….um… I didnt realise what i was doing’ he stutter whilst he’s this.

Its silent before i pull him in again. It was like a drug and i needed a hit.

….TO BE CONTINUED.

i will now write a part two on another post so if you would like to follow this story then keep an eye out.

[imeternallylove]

A Scandal in Belgravia - BBC Sherlock

Sherlock x Y/N Adler

(you can picture to Irene / adlock as well ><)

genre: lot of angst

words: 4,446 words

character: mention to John, Mycroft, Moriarty, and Lady Smallwood

summary: towards the end of this ep

(gif not mine)

Sherlock half-turns back towards. Inside the plane, he pulls back the curtain obscuring the passenger seating and walks into the aisle. The lighting is very low and it's hard to see. People are sitting in almost all the plane seats but none of them is moving or speaking or showing any signs of life at all. Frowning, he walks forward and looks more closely at the nearest passengers. An overhead light shows more clearly the faces of two men sitting beside each other and Sherlock now realizes the truth: they are dead. Although they're not yet showing any signs of decomposition, their skin is very grey and, they have clearly been dead for some time. He turns and looks to the passengers on the other side of the aisle, turning on another overhead light to get a better view. The man and woman sitting there are also long dead. As he straightens up, realizing that everyone on board the plane must be in the same condition, Mycroft speaks from the other end of the section.

"The Coventry conundrum." Sherlock turns as Mycroft pushes back the curtain and steps through into the cabin. For the first part of the ensuing conversation, he talks softly, almost as if out of respect for the dead bodies in front of him. "What do you think of my solution?"

Sherlock gazes around the cabin, still taking it all in. "The flight of the dead."

"The plane blows up mid-air. Mission accomplished for the terrorists. Hundreds of casualties, but nobody dies. Neat, don't you think?" Sherlock just smiles humourlessly at what his brother dear told. Mycroft finishes his speak. "You've been stumbling around the fringes of this one for ages– Or were you too bored to notice the pattern?"

Sherlock flashes back in his mind to the two little girls sitting in his living room. He lifts his head a little, remembering the creepy guy sitting in the same chair on a different occasion, holding a funeral urn.

"We ran a similar project with the Germans a while back, though I believe one of our passengers didn't make the flight. But that's the first I can describe for you. Sherlock, you're so slow, in every sense of the word."

Sherlock flashes back to the car with the body in the boot and the passport stamped in Berlin airport. "How's the plane going to fly?" Then he answers himself immediately. "Of course: unmanned aircraft. Hardly new."

"It doesn't fly. It will never fly. This entire project is canceled. The terrorist cells have been informed that we know about the bomb. We can't fool them now. We've lost everything. One fragment of one email, and months and years of planning finished."

Sherlock smirk with that, "your MOD man."

"That's all it takes: One lonely naïve man desperate to show off, and a woman clever enough to make him feel special."

"You should screen your defense people more carefully." Sherlock quirking an eyebrow

But Mycroft furiously, "I'm not talking about the MOD man, Sherlock; I'm talking about you." He slams the tip of his umbrella on the floor. Sherlock frowns, genuinely confused. He pointed at his brother's face with the umbrella, smile ironically, "the damsel in distress. In the end, are you really so obvious? Because this was textbook: the promise of love, the pain of loss, the joy of redemption; then give him a puzzle..." His voice drops to a whisper while he twirls the end of his umbrella in the air, "...and watch him dance."

"Don't be absurd. Mycroft."

"Absurd? How quickly did you decipher that email for Ms. Adler? Was it the full minute, or were you fully eager to impress to her?"

"I think it was less than three seconds." Your appearance was from behind Sherlock, "Luckily for our nation. He's a clever one."

Sherlock spins around to see you, Y/N Adler standing at the end of the cabin, dressed in a pencil dress in the mocked jacket like the first time he met her, but this time it's was dark blue, fully made up, and with your hair perfectly coiffured. This is The Woman at your immaculate best.

Mycroft ruefully to Sherlock. "I drove you into her path." He pauses momentarily. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Sherlock is still looking at you as you walk towards him. Then, you grinned as a victory. "Mr. Holmes, I think we need to talk."

"So do I. There are several aspects I'm still not quite clear on." The consulting detective faces you, but you decide to extrude him away softly, walking over to Mycroft. "Not you, Sherly. You're done now." You continue down the aisle towards Mycroft. Sherlock turns and watches you go as you activate your camera phone and holds it up to show his brother.

"There's more, loads more. On my phones, I've got secrets, pictures, and scandals that could topple your whole world. You have no idea how much havoc I can cause and exactly one way to stop me – Unless you want to tell your masters that your biggest security leak is your own little brother."

"What do you mean 'Phones'?" Sherlock, asking you from behind.

You cross your arm under the chest, "I told you. I misbehaved. And, I don't have just only one. I added it four."

Mycroft can no longer hold Y/N gaze and turns his head away, lowering his eyes.

-----------------

Sometime later, Mycroft has brought you and Sherlock to his residence. The older brother sits at the dining table with you seated opposite him. Sherlock is in the armchair near the fireplace a few yards away, half-turned away from the pair of you. The fingers on his right hand are repeatedly clenching while he listens to the other two speakers. Mycroft points down at the camera phone which is lying on the table in front of him. There is no aggression or threat in his voice as he speaks to you. "We have people who can get into this."

"I've tested that theory for you. To see how your consulting detective of London works. I let him try it for six months. Just jor you. Brother mine?" Sherlock closes his eyes briefly, grimacing slightly. Not turning his head to look at you. "Sherlock, dear. Can you tell him what you found when you X-rayed my camera phones?"

"There are four additional units wired inside the casing, I suspect containing acid or a small amount of explosive." Mycroft lowers his head into his hand. "Any attempt to open the casing will burn the hard drive."

"Explosive." You look at Mycroft. "It's more me."

Mycroft lifted his head and looked at you again, "some data is always recoverable."

"Take that risk?"

"You have a passcode to open these four. I deeply regret to say we have people who can extract it from you."

You calmly look at Sherlock. "Sherlock?"

"The four of the camera phone, there will be two passcodes: one to open, one to burn the drive. A special one to unlock four of them. Even under duress, you can't know which one she's given you and there will be no point in a second attempt."

"He's good, isn't he? I should have him on a leash – In fact, I might." You gaze intensely at Sherlock but he remains turned away from you and can't see your expression. "Oh. Almost forget, there is a secret thing of Dr. Watson and, Lady Smallwood as well."

"So." Mycroft looks more serious. "We destroy all of them, then. No one has the information."

"Fine. Good idea... Unless there are lives of British citizens depending on the information you're about to burn."

"Are there?"

"Nah. Telling you would be playing fair. I'm not playing anymore." You reach into your handbag on the table in front of your and take out an envelope which pushes across the table to Mycroft. "A list of my requests; and some ideas about my protection once they're granted."

Mycroft takes the sheet of paper from the envelope and starts to unfold it. You begin. "I'd say it wouldn't blow much of a hole in the wealth of the nation. But, then I'd be lying." Mycroft raises his eyebrows in amazement as he reads through the demands you have listed. "I imagine you'd like to sleep on it tonight."

Mycroft still reading with eyebrows are still raised, "Thank you, yes."

"Too bad."

Mycroft looks up at you. In the armchair, Sherlock snorts in almost silent amusement. "Off you pop and talk to your people. I recommended that would be better."

Sighing, Mycroft sinks back in his chair. Staring at Sherlock, "You've been very thorough. Ms. Adler, I wish our lot were half as good as you."

You look across to Sherlock. "I wouldn't play fair. You should know. All the phones here are my protection. But all of my phones have the same passcode to unlock." You grinned at Sherlock, he raises his head, looks at you with a confused look. "Oh, I surely won't do that risk. I knew the ways keep all my pieces of stuff in one. But, Mr. Jim Moriarty sends his love to me. Beg me for playing this game. I'd love to hear the begging for anyone." You stand up, "and this is a time for our nation. How lucky me."

"Yes, he's been in touch with us. Seems desperate for my attention," Mycroft's voice becomes more ominous, "which I'm sure can be arranged."

Unseen by the others, Sherlock's gaze begins to sharpen as Y/N walks around the table to sit on its edge nearer Mycroft. "I have had all this stuff, never knew what to do with it. Thank God for the consultant criminal. Gave me a lot of advice about how to play the Holmes boys. Do you know what he calls you?" You whisper softly, "The Ice Man..." You look across to Sherlock again. "And The Virgin."

Sherlock's eyes are starting to flicker back and forth, though it's not yet clear whether in reaction to what YN is saying or whether he's working something out.

"He didn't even ask for anything. I think he just likes to cause trouble. That's only what I can do, causing the havoc everywhere I stay on." Sherlock closes his eyes, listens to you and, sighs softly.

"And here you are, the dominatrix who brought a nation to its knees."

Sherlock's eyes snap open again. He is definitely working something out. Mycroft stands and appears to bow slightly to you. "Nicely played." Sherlock turns away, about to go and begin meeting her demands. You're smiling in satisfaction, standing up, confident that you have won.

"No."

You and Mycroft turn to him. "Sorry?" You look at him. Sherlock turns his head towards you both, "I said no. Very very close, but no." He stands and starts to walk towards you. "You got carried away. The game was too elaborate. You were enjoying yourself too much."

"No such thing as too much."

Sherlock walks closer and looks down at you. "Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine, craving the distraction of the game. You said you love detective stories– I sympathize entirely –But sentiment? The sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side." He bares his teeth slightly as he finishes the sentence.

"Sentiment? What are you talking about?" You chortle.

"You."

You smiling calmly. "Oh dear God. Look at the poor man. You don't actually think I was interested in you? Why? Because you’re the great Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat?" You saw the bitterness from his eyesight, a moment later, they change into the unreadable. He steps even closer to you, both bodies almost touching. "No."

He reaches out and slowly wraps the fingers of his right hand around your left wrist, then leans forward and brings his mouth close to your right ear. "Because I know you love me."

Flashback to you kneeling in front of him at the flat and putting your hand on top of his, then him turning his hand over and resting his fingertips on the underside of your wrist. In the present, you frown in confusion, while Sherlock tightens his grip a little around your wrist. He softly into your ear, "and I took your pulse."

"Elevated; your pupils dilated. Every time you played me."

Flashback to you kneeling in front of him, your pupils widening as you gaze at him. In the present, he releases your hand and leans past you to pick up the camera phone from the table.

"I imagine John Watson thinks love's a mystery to me but, the chemistry is incredibly simple and very destructive." Sherlock turns and walks a few paces away from you. You follow behind him until he turns and faces you again. "When we first met, you told me that disguise is always a self-portrait. How true of you: the combination to your safe. Your measurements; but this," he tosses the phone into the air and catches it again. "This is far more intimate." He pulls up the security lock with its 'I AM - - - - LOCKED' screen.

"You told me. This camera phone is your life," without breaking his gaze into your eyes, he punches in the first of the four characters with his thumb, "I think this further was your heart, and you should never let it rule your head."

You stare at him, trying to stay calm, but the panic begins to show behind both eyes. Sherlock continues. "You could have chosen any random number and walked out of here for everything you have done for five years. Because I know you. Loved to play the game that just in only your turn." He punches in the second character, his eyes still locked on yours. "But you just couldn't resist your feelings, could you?"

"Moriarty must just create the list passwords, give you to preferring. Made you play with the weakness of my brother and mine, but it was your weakness the same." Your breathing becomes heavier. Sherlock smiles briefly and triumphantly. "I've always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage... Over this, it depends on the defense for your life. But you chose the biggest mistake." He hits the third character, still gazing at you. "Thank you for the final proof."

He lifts his thumb again, but before he can type in the fourth character, you seize his hand and gaze at him intensely. "Everything I said: it's not real." In a whisper, "I was just playing the game."

Sherlock in whisper same to your, "I know." Gently pulling his hand free from yours, he types in the final character. "and this is just losing." Slowly Sherlock turns the phone towards you and shows you the screen. You look down at it, tears spilling from your eyes as you read the sequence which says:

I AM

SHER

LOCKED

You gaze down at the screen in despair for a few seconds, then Sherlock lifts the phone away and holds it out towards Mycroft even as the phone unlocks and presents its menu. Sherlock's eyes still fixed on yours, "there you are, brother. I hope the contents make up for any inconvenience I may have caused you tonight."

"I'm certain they will." Mycroft takes the phone and Sherlock turns and begins to walk towards the door. "If you're feeling kind, lock her up; otherwise, let her go. I doubt Ms. Adler will survive long without her protection."

You stare after him, your eyes wide with dread. "Are you expecting me to beg?"

"That's what's you liked." Sherlock flatly said. He stops near the door, his face in profile to yours. You stare at him in anguish for several seconds, then realize that you have no choice.

"Please."

Sherlock doesn't move.

"You're right."

Now he turns to look at you.

You staring at him pleadingly. "I won't even last six months."

"Sorry about dinner."

Sherlock turns away and walks to the door, opening it and walking through. You watch him go, your eyes full of terror as the door closes after him.

-----------------

Baker st. It is pouring with rain. Outside Speedy’s café, Mycroft is standing under the protection of his umbrella, smoking a cigarette. He has a clear plastic wallet tucked under one arm and his briefcase is at his feet. John hurries towards home, hunched over and soaking wet because macho BAMFs like John Watson don’t take umbrellas with them. He sees Mycroft standing there and stops in surprise, then walks over to him. "You don't smoke."

"I also don’t frequent cafés." He drops the cigarette on the ground and treading it out [apparently not bothered about incurring a set fine for littering], he closes his umbrella, picks up his briefcase, and turns and walks into Speedy’s. John follows him. Not long afterward they are sitting opposite each other at one of the tables. John picks up his mug and looks at the plastic wallet which Mycroft has put on the table in front of himself. There is a sticker on the wallet saying 'RESTRICTED ACCESS – CONFIDENTIAL'. The big crack on the camera phone is inside the wallet on top of various documents. But surely it's Y/N's.

"This the file on Y/N Adler?"

"Closed forever. I am about to go and inform my brother – Or, if you prefer, you are – that she somehow got herself into a witness protection scheme in America. New name, new identity. She will survive – and thrive – but he will never see her again."

"Why would he care? He despised her at the end. Won’t even mention her by name – just 'The Woman.'"

"Oh. Is that loathing, or a salute? One of a kind; the one woman who matters."

"He's not like that. He doesn’t feel things that way. I don't think."

"My brother has the brain of a scientist or a philosopher, yet he elects to be a detective. What might we deduce about his heart?"

"I don't know." John sigh.

"Neither do I, but initially he wanted to be a pirate." Mycroft smiles briefly at John, then his gaze becomes distant and reflective. John told him. "He'll be okay with this witness protection, never seeing her again. He'll be fine."

Mycroft breathes in sharply. "I agree. That's why I decided to tell him that."

"Instead of what?"

"She's dead. She was captured by a terrorist cell in Karachi two months ago and beheaded." John looks at Mycroft silently for several seconds, then quietly clears his throat.

"It's definitely her? She's done this before. And Sherlock was-"

The big brother cut off. "I was thorough. This time. It would take Sherlock Holmes to fool me, and I don't think he was on hand, do you? So..." Mycroft pushes the wallet across the table towards John, then puts his elbows on the table, clasps his hands in front of him, and rests his chin on them, "what should we tell Sherlock?"

They look at each other for a moment.

-----------------

221B. Sherlock is sitting at the kitchen table looking into his microscope. Footsteps can be heard coming up the stairs and he speaks before John even comes into view. "Clearly you've got the news."

John stops in the doorway with the wallet in his hand. Sherlock doesn’t lift his head. Sherlock does not stop talking "If it's about the Leeds triple murder, it was the gardener. Nobody noticed the earring."

"Hi. Er, no, it's, um..." John takes a couple of steps into the kitchen. "It's about Y/N Adler."

Then. Sherlock looks up, his face unreadable. "Oh? Did something happen? Has she come back?"

"No, she's, er. I just bumped into Mycroft downstairs. He had to take a call."

Sherlock stands up and walks around the table towards his mate. "Is she back in London?"

"No. She's, er..." John gazes at the table for a long moment, then drags in a sharp breath and raises his eyes to Sherlock’s as his flatmate steps closer, frowning. "She's in America."

"America?"

"Mmm-hmm. Got herself on a witness protection scheme, apparently. Dunno how she swung it, but, er, well, you know."

"I know what?"

"Ah. Well, you won't be able to see her again."

"Why would I want to see her again?"

John smiles ruefully as Sherlock turns away and walks back around the table. "Didn't say you did."

"Is that her file?"

"Yes. I was just gonna take it back to Mycroft." He offers the wallet to Sherlock. "Do you want to...?"

Sherlock sitting down. "No. Why would I?" He looks into his microscope again.

John looks at his friend for a long while, considering his options. Eventually, he steps forward again. "Listen, actually..."

"Oh, but I will have the camera phone, though." Sherlock holds out his hand towards John, not lifting his gaze from his work.

"There's nothing on it anymore. It's been stripped and it's was damaged."

"I know, but I ..." Sherlock pauses for a long moment before continuing. "I'll still have it."

"Sherlock. I've gotta give this back to Mycroft. You can't keep it." Sherlock keeps his hand extended and his eyes fixed on the microscope.

"I have to give this to Mycroft. It's the government's now. I couldn’t even give-"

"Please. John." Sherlock extends his hand a little further. John looks at him, clearly wondering what to do, then finally he reaches into the wallet, takes out the phone, and lays it gently into Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock closes his fingers around it, draws his hand back, and puts the phone into his trouser pocket before returning his hand to the microscope. "Thank you."

John raises the wallet, "well, I’d better take this back."

"Yes."

John turns and walks out onto the landing, then pauses as if wondering whether to ask the question that has now come into his mind. After several seconds he turns around and comes back into the kitchen. Sherlock still doesn’t lift his eyes from his microscope. "Did she ever text you again, after all that?"

"Once, a few months ago."

"What did she say?"

"Goodbye, Mr. Holmes."

John looks at him thoughtfully. "Huh." The short man paces around in front of the kitchen door for a few seconds, wondering if there’s anything more he can say, then eventually turns and heads off down the stairs. As soon as he’s out of sight Sherlock raises his head and gazes across the room for a moment, then he reaches down to his own phone which is on the table, and picks it up, calling up his saved messages. Getting up and walking into the living room, he scrolls through the messages sent by 'The Woman,' all of which he has kept. They go on for a long time:

I'm not hungry, let's have dinner.

Bored in a hotel. Join me. Let's have dinner.

John's blog is HILARIOUS. I think he likes you more than I do. Let's have dinner.

I can see the tower bridge and the moon from my room. Work out where I am and join me.

I saw you in the street today. You didn't see me.

You do know that hat actually suits you, don't you?

Oh for God's sake. Let's have dinner.

I like your funny hat.

I'm in Egypt talking to an idiot. Get on a plane, let's have dinner.

You looked sexy on Crimewatch.

Even you have got to eat. Let's have dinner.

BBC1 right now. You'll laugh.

I'm thinking of sending you a Christmas present.

Mantelpiece.

I'm not dead. Let's have dinner.

Then comes the one reply he sent to her:

Happy New Year

And at the bottom of the list is her last message to him:

Goodbye Mr. Holmes.

Reaching the living room window, he looks down at the final message for a long time before lifting his eyes and gazing out at the pouring rain.

-----------------

Flashback to months earlier in Karachi. It is night time and there is the background noise of male voices shouting in a foreign language. Shaky camera footage eventually resolves into a clearer resolution, revealing Y/N kneeling on the ground in front of a military vehicle. She is dressed in black robes, her hair covered by a black headscarf, and is typing one-handed onto her phone. Standing to her right is a man holding a rifle with one hand while he repeatedly gestures for her phone with the other. She ignores him, refusing to hand it over until she has finished her message, which reads:

Goodbye Mr. Holmes

She presses Send and then gives the phone to the man. To her left, a second man walks over and raises a wide-bladed curved sword above her head, bringing it slowly down towards the back of her neck while he checks that his aim will be correct. Y/N stares ahead of herself, fighting her tears, then she slowly closes her eyes.

A couple of seconds later, the orgasmic sigh fills the air sound of her rang. Y/N's eyes snap open and fill with hope as she turns her head to look at her executioner. His face is completely shrouded apart from his eyes, but a very recognizable blue-grey gaze meets her own.

"When I say run, run!"

She turns her head to the front again. Sherlock pulls back the sword as if he’s about to strike the death blow, then he spins and begins to strike out at the nearby militia. Y/N stares ahead of herself, her eyes wide with disbelief that she is going to live. Slowly she begins to smile.

In London in the present, Sherlock smiles at the memory, then chuckles to himself as he takes Y/N's camera phone from his pocket. Tossing it into the air and catching it again, he looks at it for a couple of seconds.

"The Woman."

Sherlock opens the top drawer of a nearby cabinet he puts the phone into it and is about to withdraw his hand when he pauses, then puts his fingers onto the phone again and looks at it thoughtfully.

"The Woman."

Sherlock lifts his head and gazes out at the rainy city for a while, then turns and walks away.

"Aaah"

Y/N's high in climax moan noise rings on his phone. That's was the recording of the new sound. It was unexpected to him. He is just seen that the window in the living room nearby was open a bit. His laughter echoed throughout the flat.

Over his notebook, Y/N's fav lipstick box is placed on there. It's not just a simple high-end brand lipstick, it's the voice recorder and, she just sent Sherlock the text of how to use them.

just for fun :D

Moriarty was right in some parts, but not the whole part. He would skin Y/N, but he planned to a terrorist group that she used to have this information stored in, and these were some of the best allies against Moriarty. Not anymore.

So far, Y/N has forced to sit on her knees waiting for death to happen any minute, thought a lot of times that she can't be dead in peace for the rest of her life, but why it's so soon? Although she intended to cover safely, she has to admit that she was so shocked when Sherlock caught on. For this clever detective, Y/N can't say it was passionate, but it might be 'attractive and interesting,' something in common, both of them might be addicted to each other, there's no explanation to define he loved her back.

How to blame that detective for failing her mission? She has to blame herself. He was right. she loved him.

Urdu, where terrorists chat around the side, flashlights that shine in front of them, the sound of a big blade clogs her breath in a minute. The feeling of pressure around there makes Y/N feel difficult to breathe, her heart racing to blend back into despair. Anyway, it must be over. Here.

"Can I use my phone for the last time?" Y/N looked up and said firmly, she heard a little consultation, some people swore at her great deal but eventually sent it to her. Y/N picked up her phone, and she was shaking like a leaf inside, desperately.

Y/N Adler, without a family, friends, or lover, shouldn't have even taken her into her mind, but instead, there was one person she remembered in her last breath, that man, that intelligent detective, who she felt was so blunt and fun to beat, as well as yanking him, watching his unconscious efforts. It was, yes, she felt guilty about using him, it was quacky to feel like it's stuck in her mind. At least if it's good to say goodbye, she won't feel indebted anymore.

She doesn't deserve him. Not at all, Just a good man with a liar woman who happens to love him completely.

"Goodbye, Mr. Holmes."

Y/N presses send then gives the phone to the man. To her left, a second man walks over and raises a wide-bladed curved sword above her head, bringing it slowly down towards the back of her neck while he checks that his aim will be correct. Her eyes look at the ground, trying to calm herself as much as possible. A much fear tried to cry in her chest, but she went to die here. Y/N stares ahead of herself, fighting her tears, then she slowly closes her eyes.

A couple of seconds later, the orgasmic sigh fills the air sound of her rang out. Y/N's eyes snap open and fill with hope as she turns her head to look at her executioner. His face is completely shrouded apart from his eyes, but a very recognizable blue-grey gaze meets her own.

"When I say run, run!"

"RUN!"

Sherlock's thick hands pulled Y/N up, and it was unbelievable that she seemed to run faster than any time in her life. Her slender hands held the other hand tightly as if afraid of herself breaking out of his hands. Y/N thought he must have been exploring the path well, and he took her running in and out of the alley, swapping all over the place out of the terrorists. When Sherlock saw that they both were safe, he let go of the hand that held her, and then, It's an opportunity to hold the air into lungs. They're run with tight clothes covering their faces, heat, and sweat-soaked in their whole bodies.

"Are you okay?" He asked her, even though he was still panting, "I'm okay," Y/N replied simply, the dominatrix no more haughty. They still try to not look at the other side, no eyes. Sherlock could see the other eyes, but he felt faint in his heart, the same pale blue eyes as well. There were various glances in, doubt, impression, joy, but the glances he felt is the uniqueness of her in front of him. The glances of her, the naked body. "Don't look at me that way," Sherlock coughed a little.

"Oh, why, Mr. Holmes?" Y/N teasing him.

Sherlock laughed in his own throat, and before sitting down for a break, Y/N seemed to have nothing to worry about, so he explored his own body now wet with blood and sweat, he breathing more comfortably.

Y/N's voice was full of seriousness and doubt. "Answer me. Why you helping me?"

"Just promenade through," Sherlock finally answer her quietly, but they both knew it was a funny lie.

"Oh..." Y/N's sweet voice dragged long as if pretending to understand she burst out laughing a short before staring at the fortune. The consulting detective and the woman's eyes turned away from each other. Sherlock was irritated himself for making such an unwise excuse, so he came to grin. Sherlock took a deep breath before collecting his stillness, a solemn face as his usual looks, before turning around and saying to each other, "Oh, look at Ms. Adler, you don't actually think I'm interested in you-."

Crack,

A touch of stiffness to sherlock's head and the sound of pulling the trigger made him silent before flicking. Eyes slightly on himself, ah, he was too careless of her, Sherlock raised his hand, looking at Y/N incomprehensibly. "What are you doing?"

"Ur. I need your clothes to leave. Now."

"That's what I'm doing!"

"Stop talking and give it to me." Y/N's still holds the gun, "Got to learn to not trust to your big brother. Also you. Now, give them to me. Just take them off. I didn't want to slap you again, Mr. Holmes."

"Wait. Ms. Adler. I-,"

"Now!"

"Just playing fair! I've saved your life!"

"So there now. We're even. Karachi's a passageway wait for another me showing up. I had a double me in dozen. She's coming so late." Y/N kisses Sherlock's cheek, "You're good, find me. Y/N Adler, she is dead. The proof is my camera phone." Sherlock remains silent, disbelief at what she has planned. Y/N puts his stuff on, delicate smiling. "It's time for goodbye, now. Mr. Holmes."

Y/N walks away, lefts the Barker St.'s boy who helped her. Sherlock, even not in a good mood, knows exactly she was safe now. Where she's gone? Not that hard to find out. His intelligent face turns into a crack-up laugh, very, very satisfied.

Sherlock Holmes was too careless with her.

The woman.

[musical-chick-13]

Excuse me, please tell me about the Mentally I’ll woman and WOC save the world. Also the extremely long canon compliant Adlock fic. Please and thank you 🖤

YES THANK YOU I AM VERY HAPPY TO TALK ABOUT THESE THINGS

Saving the world:

So, basically, there are creature that warp reality and have a real knack for getting into people's heads. They're trying to find the best simulation to place people in or, "system" for people to perceive, by figuring out how best to subjugate Earth (and other planets, though Earth is the one being focused on because I, the author, live here). This allows for a lot of different genres to show up, as well as the team who decides to take them out and figure out how to escape these "systems" by having to fight their way back to reality needing to...improvise.

SPEAKING OF THIS TEAM there are are 4 women: one of them is...basically me: lover of classical music, discovers she's bi over the course of the show, very severe OCD. Her love of music helps her use sound as a weapon and look at situations more creatively, and dealing with her OCD helps her deal with being in the various "systems" because she already has to fight her brain trying to change her perception of reality on a regular basis. She's more optimistic than I am (to a fault), and very good at pretending to be happy because character flaws and conflict!! Occasionally her OCD holds her back from doing the necessary things to save the world because she gets paralyzed by the need to do things ""Right™"" and she is deathly afraid of her intrusive thoughts being weaponized by the reality warpers, which is a major source of angst. Uses self-destructive coping mechanisms as a way to "hold herself accountable."

The next member of this team is an Asian woman with a degree in literature. Because of this, she has a very good understanding of how stories work, as well as a wide breath of knowledge about different time periods, trivia, and strategies. All of which allows her an advantage in breaking down the illusions of the reality warpers. She deals with severe depression, which affects her perception of reality as well. Sometimes this manifests as anger or impulsive behavior, which can be very helpful as tools for motivation and in providing needed split-second decisions, but sometimes it works to her detriment. Has been friends with the woman with OCD for a very long time, and their friendship is central to their respective recoveries.

NEXT CHARACTER. An aroace Indian woman who practices Hinduism. She works as a stuntwoman/stunt driver for the movie industry and, as such, is excellent at working vehicles and physical combat, which are obviously very helpful in the whole saving-the-world-fighting-your-way-out-of-dangerous-simulations, thing, but she has to figure out the best way to reconcile that with her faith. She tends to assume the worst in people, which makes it hard for her to let herself fully open up or be vulnerable, and has made it harder than she'd like to make friends. This is because of the harsh, toxic culture of the entertainment industry, trying to tell her who she should be and how she should act. As it is...wont to do. She didn't want to be a stereotype or be broken by discrimination, so she decided to isolate and harden herself in response. Her harsh understanding and hardened determination allow her to be immune to most of the reality-warping. But she is fiercely compassionate, which ultimately wins out over everything else.

And the last member of the team: A Latina medical student working on her doctorate. Has a love of science, which helps pinpoint the structure/chemical makeup of the systems the team finds themselves stuck in, as well as how to heal those broken by them. Tends to be a workaholic and majorly struggling with a work-life balance on account of a fear of being seen as unintelligent. Some of her fellow doctoral students really suck. Her perseverance allows her to power through the reality-warping illusions. Takes a much more logical approach to conflict and problems, and is extremely loyal to those she lets into her inner circle, but is unafraid to cut ties with narrow-minded or unprincipled people. She also falls in love with a trans man and they quote anime at each other all the time. It's adorable.

Also, all of them are huge fandom nerds, which gives them all different areas of expertise depending on the genre of the simulation they fall into. There is definitely a Big Conflict™ that takes place at a con while everyone is in cosplay. Ultimately, it's a story of healing from your emotional baggage, the strength one can find in friendships, and leaning how to fall in love again with things you might have lost your passion for. It's a story about the complexity of human relationships and how we perceive reality, and how different life experiences (especially as marginalized people) can shape who you are and how you see the world and interact with others. And despite the author's snarky cynicism in real life, this is a story of hope.

Adlock Fic

Sherlock saves Irene. Sherlock helps Irene get a new identity. They bicker and disagree on how best to do this. It's a defense mechanism because they don't understand emotions and don't want to admit that the other person has given them a desire for vulnerability because they Caught Feelings. There's corruption in MI-6 they have to fight, with the assistance of an MI-6 agent who has know Sherlock for years and grows to become good friends with Irene (whom he finds interesting and entertaining in spite of himself). Plus, there's the added stress of them both pretending to be dead and taking down Moriarty's network after he dies. Eventually this all explodes into a volatile discussion of Feelings™ between our two favorite emotionally repressed disasters, and they begin the closest thing they can to a romantic relationship, with Irene eventually giving birth to Nero Holmes, who they have to protect from enemies they've made with the whole "destroying the MI-6 conspiracy and Moriarty's network" thing. Lots of time devoted to Irene kicking ass (and Sherlock being head-over-heels because of it, although he'd never actually admit that).

ask me about my wips

[aroxfan]

Okay but here me out, I'm a big Johnlock shipper but I need to point this out

Many shippers be like "Johnlock should have been canon in s4" or "they were made to be canon and Moftiss didn't want to gave us Johnlock that's rude" or idk

First thing first, I don't think any directors should write new season or movies based on what fans are asking for because it will be a mess and not automatically quality (!) but nvm because lets talk about how Johnlock is written

Just like most of realitionships in this show, they're rarely precised or we dont have many quotes saying honestly what's going on between people (Adlock the forever mystery). It's all about deductions (coincidence? The universe is rarely so lazy.) And that's what I looove in this show: almost nothing is clearly declared, we have to understand and deduce what's going on between people and how they feel, just like in real life and thats the complete opposite of a commercial show/movie. This show will not only make you think with its cases but its characters, and very few links are clear (that's why Sherlock best man speech or the I am Sherlocked were breathtaking).

So what about Johnlock? We have so many proofs that their friendship (or whatever ship it is) is damn strong but also very difficult. It's first obvious because of everything they went through together- the best examples are the 2 years of John mourning and the after Mary's death, but also just the hell which is living with bored-Sherlock-corpses-in-the-fridge and all the cases and times they risked their lives together and for each other. But Sherlock is also always asking for John presence and John is always coming to help Sherlock wherever he is. Their bond is non-negotiable.

So, to the sentences "they should have kissed on the tarmac" or "He should have told Jawn he loved him before jumping or before the grenade explode in tfp" , I'm gonna react just after taking a big step back

Because I ship them and of course I would have loved this BUT im being objective and here's what I think:

All the realtionships in this show are very precious because of this subtility (the "Sherlock's actually a girl’s name" subtility yes). This thin fence shouldn't be crossed because it would loose all it's magic. The thrill, the questioning, the fact that everyone can understand their link with the same scenes we all watched, that's awesome. Here the best way to show an evidence of love is not to say the words (the fact that the only time Sherlock says it is to Molly and he doesn't mean it) or a kiss or proposal (do I need to mention Jeanine?). No, here love is hugging a consulting criminal in a pool because you're covered of explosives, its shooting a man flicking your mate's face, it's stealing a royal ashtray, it's jumping from a rooftop or simply buying milk. It's everything they do for each other and all their gazes and all their laughs. They don't need to say it, they know. And as I previously said, this show is not gonna force fate by telling you what you need to know. It's life guys, guess by yourself, nobody is holding a big sign with his role in the story. The euphoria seeing them being official wouldn't be as long as the one of watching them for hours having such weird and funny conversations or drinking tea in silence at 221b.

They're perfect like that.

The lost detective without his blogger.

The sociopath who prefers his doctors clean shaven.

The two of them against the rest of the world.

And sincerly I don't need to ask for more than a so deep realtionship which sounds better for me than a common "I love you"

So lets thank Moftiss for having written a so fascinating love story, whatever kind of love it is

but still love

[sherazyjade]

Queerbaiting

Let's talk little, let's talk good.

I love Sherlock Fandom. I truly do love it, its craziness, and its genius. I love Johnlock ship, and I love reading theories.

But there's something I absolutely don't agree with:

People believing Mofftiss are queerbaiting. They aren't.

I enjoy reading Fanfics, looking at Fanarts. The artists of the Fandom are very talented, and it's amazing to watch the show under that new light, sometimes.

But the show itself isn't /that/ gay.

When I first watched it, I saw no Johnlock, and I believe many people are like me.

I think the show may just talk about a very strong and extraordinary friendship.

To me, it hasn't been queerbaiting.

On the opposite.

They adapted Sherlock to the modern societies.

If nowaday, two men decided to move in together and go on adventures, people would think "Oh, they're gay!"

And that's what the show is showing, when people assume Sherlock and John are in a relationship.

Mrs.Hudson's speech isn't a hint about Sherlock's or John's sexuality.

She is simply reacting like people would react nowaday, assuming who are gays and who aren't.

Yes, we can see a few of Sherlock's behaviors as 'gay'... But he has also 'straight' behavior. The Woman, for example. She mattered, no matter what extreme shippers think.

The show would make a mistake if it chose a side. All the fans are free to ship whoever they want, to make stories, write and draw arts and express their theories.

But the show isn't showing Johnlock as canon, like it isn't showing Adlock as canon.

Since the beginning, John says he's straight.

And since the beginning, Sherlock says he is married to his work.

Sherlock, who is a brilliant, amazing and unique man, mysterious about his feelings. Exactly like in the books.

Let's talk about the theory about Asexual!Lock, then. The fans believing the detective is asexual have more than enough reasons to do so.

If Mofftiss made Johnlock canon, it would be queerbaiting toward the ones who sees Sherlcok as asexual, right?

My point is: The show isn't queerbaiting. It is giving us the freedom to watch and ship whoever we like, but there's no hints.

Is someone in love with his flatmate going to lock him up in a lab after having drugged him?

Sherlock was sadly looking at the empty chair before the wedding, right?

But it can simply be a man who is feeling lonely, now that he lives on his own.

It doesn't have to be love between them. Not romantic love, anyway.

The show only shows us two men, caring deeply for each other.

It isn't queerbaiting.

I'm not against Sherlock being gay, asexual, straight, anything he bloody is.

But I'm against fans who are shaming Mofftiss because they are unhappy their ship isn't canon.

Even if Johnlock isn't canon, Mofftiss gave us many queers characters.

So many LGBT+ characters, and so many more LGBT+ canon than most of shows will ever have.

John's sister, introduced at the first episode? Lesbian.

Irene Adler? Lesbian.

Sherlock's uncle? A cross dresser.

The couple having the hotel at Baskerville? Homosexuals, gays, and giving sweet names to each others in front of the camera.

And let's not even start talking about Moriarty/Eurus who are somehow queers in their madness even if they're both unhealthy.

I've read many times on the Fandom that "queers characters are all bad guy in Sherlock show."

Alright.

Sherlock.

Is.

A.

Police show.

About cases.

Criminals.

There's no many episodes, and no many characters, and there's no useless characters.

I think it would be so much more insulting toward the LGBT+ to add useless LGBT+ characters only for the sake of showing off how tolerant they are, than having LGBT+ characters with an actual personality.

Should I even add that most of the characters on the show have a sexuality we don't know about?

What I mean is, let's all being intelligent. We can like a ship, love it, and create art about it. But being mad at the people who made this amazing show only because we are unhappy our ship isn't canon is not smart.

It isn't respectful. It isn't good.

And I'm certain Sherlock says the same.

[missluthorwillseeyounow]

Trust (SuperCorp Criminal Minds AU)

I have 2 SuperCorp versions of this. This is currently my favorite one. Born mostly because Katie in Kevlar is HOT. 

DISCLAIMER: I know nothing about the FBI, law enforcement or intelligence agencies, sorry. Also, for the FBI agent watching me, THIS is what all those searches were for, and nothing else:

⦁ The BAU (Behavioral Analysis Unit) team in this AU is led by J'onn, and consists of Alex, Maggie, James, and Winn. Brainy is their technical analyst. Sometimes I add Sam in as the PR liaison in the team, and Nia as an FBI trainee. 

⦁ Lena is in the team, too. She's a transfer from Interpol, and she's had years of experience in profiling, suspect and victim identification, as well as infiltration, under her belt (I also hc that she worked with the CIA and the MI6, mostly in intel, profiling and undercover work). In this version, I kinda put her in Prentiss's role, but y'know, more Lena Luthor-esque.

⦁ Lena is still a Luthor in this one. Lex is a serial killer, and this is part of the reason why Lena took an interest in criminal profiling, and joined the BAU in the first place. She feels responsible for not stopping Lex before he could kill at least 47 people (that they know of).

⦁ Lex started killing when Lena was ten. She'd been shipped off to boarding school, and she didn't know about it. During the holidays when she returned to Luthor Manor, she didn't see it at first, because Lex was very clever at hiding it, but soon, she begins to see signs of his psychopathy.

⦁ In one version of this story, Clark is a reporter who, like Lena, made the connection between Lex and the murders. One night after dinner with the Luthors, Clark sneaks into Lex's study to find evidence he can use for his story. 

He’s rummaging in a desk when he hears a voice from the doorway.

"You won't find anything there." Clark whips around to find Lena standing there, silhouetted against the light coming from the hall. He tenses, thinking she's about to tell her brother what Clark was doing. 

"If Lex really is behind these murders, and I know you think he is, you won't find anything there. He's not foolish enough to hide evidence here." 

Clark doesn't say anything, he just stares at her. Lena pauses, looking away. "I... I didn't want to believe it. Not Lex... He wouldn't..." Steel injects itself into her green gaze. "But the more time I spend with him, the more clearly I see the truth. You see it too, don't you?" 

Clark straightens up and nods gravely. “Yes.”

⦁ I haven't thought it through quite yet, but they get the FBI involved, including one agent on the fast track to unit chief, J'onn Jonzz. He meets Lena only briefly, and he's struck by the young girl's keen intelligence and remarkable calm. He's the one who suggests that she consider a career in profiling and criminal psychology.

⦁ Fast forward 12 or so years later, Lena is on the BAU with the others. For the sake of her anonymity (and also because it was necessary for her undercover work), she's erased all connections to Lex and the Luthors (including old photographs and newspaper articles until the name Lena Luthor is but a footnote in the Luthor history with nothing to tie her to who she is now). She's also changed her last name to her birth mother's (and just because I'm also an Adlocker, I hc that her last name now is Wolfe but whatever).

⦁ She's very professional, is revered by the younger agents in the Bureau, well-respected by her colleagues and highly praised by her superiors (they all secretly call her "The Ice Queen"). But she's very guarded and keeps everyone at arm's length, doesn't go out for after-work drinks with the others, practically sleeps with one eye open -- years of working undercover and living with a serial killer will do that to you.

⦁ Until a certain promising young recruit comes along. Special Agent Kara Danvers is new in town -- adopted sister of Agent Alex Danvers, the cousin of one of J'onn's old friends (I don't think teaming family members up is actually allowed in the FBI, so some suspension of disbelief is required here). Since he doesn't want to be accused of nepotism in his own team, he asks Lena to oversee her training and transition into the team herself.

⦁ Kara's sunny demeanor couldn't clash more with Lena's icy, professional front. Lena approaches the task with thinly-veiled impatience and something remarkably close to disdain. 

However, Kara quickly proves to be more than a perky attitude and a pretty smile. She squirms at blood, which Lena is initially quick to exploit (What FBI profiler can't stand the sight of a bludgeoned corpse? "We profile serial killers here, not celebrities in high-waisted jeans.") -- but Kara displays true empathy to the victims and their families, she's sensitive to other people's emotions and knows just what to say to get a reluctant victim or witness talking. She's extremely dedicated to catching the unsubs, and relentless in her investigation, and she's extremely handy to have around in a crisis.

⦁ Lena finds this last part out when they're on a case, trying to find a missing girl. The team is headed to the unsub's apartment, but on a hunch, Lena heads to an abandoned warehouse near the apartment, with only Kara as backup. They enter the warehouse, and just as they're clearing the rooms and checking for the missing girl, the unsub attacks Lena and manages to pin her to the ground, choking her. Kara gets there just in time to shoot the unsub in the leg, saving Lena's life.

⦁ Later that evening, Kara and the rest of the team go to the bar to celebrate. Lena is absent, as usual. 

Just as Kara is getting another round of drinks at the bar, a low, smoky voice interrupts her. "Didn't profile you as a drinker, Danvers. I wonder what other surprises you're hiding behind those glasses and cardigans." 

Kara squeaks and turns to see Lena behind her. "Agent Wolfe! I didn’t expect to see you here-- No, these aren't all for me, I--"

Lena's face softens at Kara's babbling, and she takes a few of the shot glasses from Kara's hands. "You know, I have a rule... Anyone who saves my life gets to call me Lena." 

Kara blushes profusely at the other woman’s arched eyebrow. "Well then, if I'm calling you Lena--" 

Lena smirks. "Kara it is, then." 

For the first time -- much to the gaping surprise of the rest of the team she's worked with for years -- Lena joins them for a post-case drink.

⦁ To everyone's -- and no one's -- surprise, the pair quickly become the best of friends. 2 days into their friendship, Lena starts jokingly calling her Supergirl. 3 weeks later, they start grabbing lunch together. 

3 months in, Kara sends Lena a video of herself petting a St. Bernard on the street only to be bowled over in a mass of furry paws and puppy licks -- and the cadets Lena is training are even more bowled over to hear the "Ice Queen" laugh (of course, they're later treated with a scorching glare and a sharp reprimand, but it's a revelation just to discover that she's actually physically capable of laughing). 

By 6 months, the whole department is in a secret "will they or won't they" betting pool. A year in, and every other department has stakes in the pool (Alex publicly condemns the pool, but secretly has Maggie bet a hundred bucks for her that "they will" by winter next year).

⦁ But despite their growing closeness, Lena has yet to tell Kara about Lex, or about her life working undercover for Interpol (which includes a decidedly less-good Kate Kane). She decides to bury it in the past, (wishful) thinking that it belongs there. Lena is no longer the same teenager betrayed by her brother when he killed forty people. Nor is she "Lauren Reynolds", the undercover "arms dealer", who had betrayed Valhalla, the woman who commanded a terrorist cell by day and worshiped Lena’s body by night (yes, I put Kate in the role of Ian Doyle). 

So she keeps silent. About Lex. About Kate Kane and Valhalla. About the beautiful little boy with wide, trusting eyes, who was not her son, but whom Lena had loved and protected all these years as if he were.

⦁ There are too many secrets, Lena decides, as she shoves them all one by one into their little boxes, clamping the lid securely shut. Kara is too good to be tainted by any of them. Kara, who gets squeamish at the sight of blood, but resolutely hunts each killer like an avenging angel. Kara, who somehow, still believes in the good in people, and when she realizes that there is very little of that to be found in Lena Wolfe or Lena Luthor, Kara will hate her as much as Lena hates herself.

But then the day comes when Lena receives a package in the mail. She reaches in and pulls out two things: a four-leaf clover, and a surveillance photo of Kara and Lena having lunch together. On the back of the photograph are three cryptic little words that fill her with dread: “See you soon.”

[yeah, so I’m binge-watching Criminal Minds with these AU-goggles firmly in place now] Should I continue this????

[the-signs-of-two]

I made a post yesterday asking if you would be interested in hearing my thoughts on Sherlock and the Sherlock fandom in light of the recent influx of Good Omens-stuff, which has made some people in the Sherlock fandom afraid that the fandom is dying. I received nothing but positive responses, which both surprised and delighted me to no end, so here we are.

This is going to be a bit of a long and rambling one, so strap in.

First of all, I need to talk about some personal stuff that I haven’t really talked about on this tumblr before. That is my Asperger’s (I was diagnosed less than a year ago, I’m still processing it and I haven’t received an “official diagnosis”, just the word of a psychologist specialising in girls and young women with Asperger’s – just putting that out there). I know a lot of people in the fandom have similar problems, so I’m not sure how much I need to explain. But I do want to say that the way Asperger’s is generally written about and portrayed online (on sites like Wikipedia or the like) is, in my opinion, often very negatively worded and gives an exaggerated idea of what Asperger’s is, at least when it comes to milder cases such as me.

A characteristic of Asperger’s is what’s known in English as “restricted and repetitive interests”, which I find to be a very negative term. I much prefer the Danish term særinteresser (“special” or “peculiar” interests). Basically, it means that a lot of people with Asperger’s develop a keen and often very intense interest in a certain quite niche subject – if you’ve heard Cabin Pressure, think of the way Martin obsesses over planes and memorises an enormous amount of plane trivia.

For me, it’s always been an abnormally strong obsession with various media. I’ve obsessed about various franchises through the years, but Sherlock and Sherlock Holmes has been the one and only for at least 4-5 years now. It doesn’t necessarily mean that my interest is stronger than other people in the fandom who spend a lot of time and get a lot of enjoyment out of Sherlock, but it certainly is stronger than the average fan and it has some, shall we say, specific expressions. I LOVE talking about Sherlock – I find it really difficult to describe the kind of excitement and positive energy I get from talking Sherlock, but think of the way children get excited when they do something they love and the excitement is just bursting out of them. I don’t need something new to talk about either. I write meta when I get a good idea or I get inspired by other people’s meta and throw in my two cents, but generally speaking, I don’t need something new to discuss in order to discuss Sherlock. I just want to talk about it! I try to keep it to a minimum on here because I think people… wouldn’t really… care…, but I’d love to discuss things like what I think characterises Sherlock and John, what I look for when I watch a Sherlock adaptation in the characters and in the relationship between the characters, my top ten Sherlocks, my top ten Johns and my top ten adaptations (side note: if anyone is interested in that, PLEASE drop me a comment or an ask, I’d be absolutely delighted).

So… all that to say that I consume Sherlock and Sherlock Holmes and participate in the Sherlock fandom because it gives me an immense sense of satisfaction as well as an outlet for my excitement that doesn’t bother my surroundings. That is what I think the core of fandom is and always should be: enjoying and celebrating what you love unapologetically in a safe, supporting environment, where you don’t have to rein in your feelings in fear of negative social consequences. And I think that’s always very, very important to keep in mind – it’s all about enjoying what you enjoy.

In my opinion, all fandoms should aim to promote that enjoyment and reduce negativity. Of course it’s the internet – negativity is hard to get rid of completely. But, speaking only for myself, I’m here to have fun.

That is why it will always be my opinion that no matter what you ship, that should be met with acceptance and respect. I don’t ship Adlock or Sherlolly (just to mention two prominent ships in my fandom that I am not a part of), but I would never ever argue that shipping Johnlock is “better” or “more correct” than shipping anything else. Shipping Johnlock is simply my preference and, frankly, I don’t consider it my business what other people enjoy. I can join them in loving the show as a whole and then we may go our separate ways when we want to talk shipping. I hope and believe that Johnlock might be made canon someday. But even if it does, I don’t think that matters much when it comes to shipping. Johnlock becoming canon matters for representational reasons and for the people who already ship Johnlock, but shipping is separate from and can live without “the canon stamp of approval”. What’s canon and what’s not doesn’t legitimise some ships relative to others because, again, shipping is about enjoyment and I think everyone ought to be free to enjoy whatever the heck they want to enjoy.

That applies to other fandoms as well.

As a quick disclaimer, I haven’t watched Good Omens. I probably will at some point, it looks really good (but I’m not gonna lie: I’m mainly interested because of Benedict, Mark and the setting).

So… Good Omens. You can probably guess what I’m going to say: people may enjoy whatever they enjoy. Some might leave Sherlock behind and make a full transition to Good Omens. Some might be really into Good Omens now and return to Sherlock in a while. Some might just be experiencing a short crush on another fandom and return to Sherlock very soon. Some might just be dipping their toes into it. As Moriarty would say: It’s all good.

I’m fully familiar with crushes on other fandoms. I go through such phases too every once in a while. I recently went through an intense The Lord of the Rings-phase after watching the Extended Editions and all (yes, ALL) of the additional material.

However, I’m also fully familiar with the fear that you yourself or other people in a fandom are moving on. Whenever I go through one of these phases where I get really into another fandom for a while, I get really upset because I think I might be leaving Sherlock behind. And our fandom is in a very precarious position at the moment. It’s been two and a half years since we last had any new content and that content was… uhm… a mixed bag. We don’t know if we’ll ever get more and, if we will, we don’t know when. And if we won’t get new content, somehow we’ll have to reconcile ourselves with S4, which is really hard. Fandoms tend to stagnate after a while if no new content is added, and I think that’s what a lot of people fear is happening. And it’s a very natural fear, whether you fear you yourself losing your interest in a fandom or the fandom itself shutting down: you don’t want something that has given you so much enjoyment to end.

But I don’t think we’re there. There’s still so much to do and talk about and analyse and create in this fandom. People post new fanfics and upload new fanart every single day. I’m able to reblog tonnes and tonnes of great content from other people in the fandom on a daily basis. I have nearly 1000 followers on here (as a side note, it is absolutely crazy and I am so blessed and thankful to all of you!). Of course, many of them might not actually check out what I post anymore, but seeing as I almost exclusively post Sherlock stuff and have done since the very beginning, clearly there’s still a lot of people who are interested in this content. Heck, even the creators are still desperately trying to keep everyone invested by trying to get us all drunk on themed cocktails.

So my final comments are these: I understand both the appeal of a new fandom (especially a fandom with a cast and crew as supportive of their fans as GO seems to have) and the fear that you or others might be moving on. But I want to stress the importance of having a fandom driven by excitement and enjoyment. So those who are really into GO at the moment should absolutely not be made to feel bad about that. People should be free to post and enjoy whatever the heck they want and that goes for everyone. I, for one, don’t think our fandom is anywhere near done and I will continue to post all Sherlock-Sherlock-Sherlock for the foreseeable future while we wait for S5.

Tagging the people who asked for this: @colourfulwatson @anchored-in-high-tide @catwillowtree @gelos @johnlockedinwarstan @why-are-you-cryingg (your username will not link for me for some reason, I’m sorry, I hope you see this) @cherylbombshellofthegay @royalworldtraveler @flowery222 @ebaeschnbliah @sherlockslove112

[youknowmymethods]

Content Creator Interview #1

In the very first of a series of interviews with authors and artists in the Sherlolly and Sherlock fandoms @theemptyquarto chatted to @hobbitsdoitbetter about dark Anglo-Irish humour,  how she got started in the fandom, cultural influences, and so much more. 

I hope you all enjoy reading what they have to say as much as I did.

Hello Tumblr!

Back before Christmas 2018 I sat down (metaphorically, in a shared google doc) with the lovely Hobbitsdoitbetter.  Hobbits has been working in fanfic at least since 2006, but came onto the BBC Sherlock scene in 2013, oddly enough (or maybe not that oddly, if you have read her sensitive and universally female-positive fic) getting her start as an Adlock writer.  She switched over to Sherlolly with the brilliant, “Be Near Me When My Light Is Low,” a graceful and touching story dealing with domestic partner abuse.

 After that she was off to the races.  Since then, she’s written many of the most beloved stories in Sherlolly fandom, including: “The Boyfriend Experience,” which yours truly got to beta-read, set in an AU where Sherlock is a high class escort; “Little Goldfish,”a deeply sexy story dealing with the healthy (and unhealthy) use of BDSM in relationships;  “The Rudest Man In London,” a rollicking Victorian AU adventure; and others too numerous to list here.  Currently she’s publishing “Bliss,” another sweet Victorian AU in which Sherlock and Molly have to find their way to one another as partners in a marriage blanc, and a joint fic with Mizjoely called “The Poison in the Honey, the Sting in the Sweet,” featuring crimelord Sherlock, MI5 agent Molly, and an early-1980s setting.

 Before I get into our chat, I’m going to post two reader questions submitted by OhAine pre-interview, since the actual discussion spins off both of them.  

So with thanks to Aine:

(1) You write a very strong Molly, never more so than in “What the blackbird sang.” Can you tell us a little about the process of writing that story, and how difficult was it to walk the line between such a harrowing backstory and the love story you were developing?

 It’s interesting to talk about “What The Blackbird Sang,” and the fic which preceded it, “Be Near Me When My Light Is Low.” It was the first Sherlolly piece I actually wrote, and I was still finding the characters’ voices. Getting John’s voice, in particular, proved a trial; it wasn’t until I wrote him telling someone off that I felt I had him. (I also wouldn’t make Mycroft so heartless if I wrote it today.) I was feeling my way through the Sherlockverse, and when I read the fic now, that’s really the only thing I can see, lol.  

 I was very aware of the morality of discussing something which affects people in real life, and of the ways in which some behaviors are presented to young women as welcome or romantic in popular culture when they’re actually creepy and controlling. Domestic violence is often presented in fanfic as an excuse for a character to be saved by another (male) character, or as an excuse for whump, angst or hurt/comfort, and I didn’t want to write anything like that. I wanted it to be realistic, and to be respectful of the experiences of people who have suffered from it. (I do know a couple of people who have survived DV, and I know their kids). I also wanted to show some of the things which younger readers should look out for as red flags, and give accurate information on what resources were available to them if they were in a situation which was dangerous. In short, I wanted the story to be useful as well as entertaining.

 In order to do that, I looked a lot at real life cases of DV; almost everything which Molly’s ex does to her in the story is based on something from real life, including leaving the little bloody dolls on her doorstep. I also looked at the ways in which people with PTSD deal with panic attacks and flashbacks; I wanted to be honest and respectful, as I said, and I wanted to make sure that nothing I wrote glamourised or romanticized the abuse or the trauma. I suffer from anxiety and depression, and I know how difficult it can be to try and manage someone else’s reaction to your illness, as well as your own: that’s why I chose to give Sherlock prior experience with dealing with panic attacks. Writing the story itself wasn’t difficult; because I had given myself an obligation to be realistic, I had an in-built set of brakes. I couldn’t put in anything too fantastical, and that certainly helped. As for writing the romance, well... I think one of the things I like about Sherlock is that he’s not led around by his libido. I figured that if anyone would be willing to give Molly a chance to heal before things become physical, it would be him. I also felt that, given how bewildered he is by interpersonal relationships sometimes, he would be able to sympathize with someone who was also feeling emotionally vulnerable. And dealing with the physical abuse helped Sherlock grow up a bit, because he couldn’t just charge in on a white horse and then disappear off: if he wanted to help, he had to stick around and do some things which he felt uncomfortable with, like being emotionally open. It meant that he had a through-line in the story which wasn’t just about being strong or powerful. He had to change and grow, and I felt that was important. It also meant that he had something to do besides be in love with Molly, and I do think that helped keep the story from becoming too saccharine or concerned with romance.  

 (2) I often think when I’m reading your Victorian stories that there’s a very certain quality that Molly shares with Irish women, that there’s a quietness and dignity to her strength that I saw in women of my mother’s generation: rather than being given it, they took power where they could find it. How much of your characterisation of Molly has been influenced by the women in your own history?

 It’s interesting that you mention the women of our mother’s generation as regards Victorian Molly, because I do think there’s an element, not so much of quietness (I come from a long, LOUD line of Northside Dublin matriarchs) but I do think there’s an element of, as you say, taking what power you can rather than waiting to be given it. (Because if you’re waiting to be given anything in life, you’ll be waiting a long time, and it can always be taken back). Maybe it’s the feminist in me; I am painfully aware that surviving as a woman in the past was not easy. It was a great deal more than pretty dresses and dashing men in carriages. Poverty had dire consequences, and you had to be tough if you were to survive, particularly when you had no legal rights. So I do think that I bring that attitude to writing about the past: I’m a bit cynical about it.

 I also don’t like writing passive characters: one of the things I like about Molly is that while she may be quiet, or shy, or sweet, or clumsy, she isn’t passive. (I suspect that’s the influence of Lou Brealey on the way she’s written, but that’s just a personal opinion.) Molly does things, actively: she decides to help Sherlock, she orders him to say ILY first. She’s not waiting to be saved, or to be loved; she accepts life and gets on with it. She has a sort of sweet stoicity that I like. And again, that stoicity may relate back to the women of our mothers’ and grandmothers’ generations, and that get on with it mentality that they had.

 And with these tantalizing tidbits, I sat down with hobbitsdoitbetter for our chat.

 Quarto:  Hi Hobbits!  Thanks for joining me!

 Hobbits: I am here whenever you’re ready!

 Quarto:  Awesome.  So, let’s get started with a spinoff of one of the questions OhAine submitted and that you’ve already answered.  You started writing Sherlolly with “Be Near Me When My Light Is Low,” which deals with domestic violence and in which the love story is really more of a side subject.  Can you talk about how you got the inspiration for this fic?  What in the show led you to create the material?

 Hobbits: It’s an odd one, that, because I don’t really remember deciding to write it. I do remember reading a piece of fic online by a very young writer, who was still learning her craft. She was doing that thing we all do at the start, which is ramping every reaction up to 11! But because she was talking about Molly feeling unhappy with how Sherlock spoke to her, she didn’t seem to realize how it came across. It came across, I remember thinking, as if Sherlock were being verbally abusive. A lot of it was in the reactions written on Molly’s behalf; one person’s sarcastic banter is another’s hurtful barb, and there didn’t seem to be a recognition of the difference. I messaged her privately and asked her about it, and she didn’t seem to see the difference (again, starting out and making a common mistake we all make). But there was a lot of stuff about Molly putting up with shite from Sherlock that I just didn’t see her putting up with, and which seemed to me to be quite… Let’s say unhelpful.

 Quarto:  I think it can be difficult to balance that sort of stuff in fic, particularly when you’re writing for a show like “Sherlock” where the wit is so pointed and exaggerated for dramatic effect.  In the context of the show it’s funny but then when we try to capture it in fic it comes off like it would IRL, as “Wow, these people are massive assholes.”

 Hobbits: Well, some of that is, I think, cultural differences. British and Irish people will say stuff to one another messing that the rest of the world is horrified by. We have a dark sense of humor as a matter of course. BUT the big thing is how the person you say it to reacts; Mycroft and Sherlock don’t get upset at how they speak to one another and they can be sarcastic little bitches. But if, for example, you say something to someone (as Sherlock does to Molly in the SIB Christmas scene) which hurts them, the appropriate response is to apologize and not do it again. I think that’s why we stick with Sherlock through so much, because you can tell that he just blurts stuff out, or gets so wound up in his own cleverness that he doesn’t stop to think about how it sounds. But if you’re portraying someone as upset, and that that’s a normal or desirable reaction to a character because they’re Just That Awesome, then I look at it a bit askance. In fairness to that writer from long ago, I don’t think it had occurred to her how it sounded; that’s something that comes later in writing, I think, when you no longer have the massive panic attack that is trying to finish something and put it out there, which is the first, scariest and bravest step.

 Quarto: I’ll want to get back to the experience of authorship in a minute but before I do I’d like to talk a little bit about culture and how its influenced you as a writer, which also ties in with one of the reader-submitted questions.  I wish I still had that email chain we did when you were writing “The Boyfriend Experience” but in one exchange we had that I recall, you disagreed with me (an American) that the story was dark.  And you attributed your perception of it as not dark to your Irishness.  And I kinda… have to stand by my original opinion of your writing, which is that you definitely operate a bit more on the grim end of the spectrum (with obvious exceptions).  Do you think that your heritage and your culture are really determining or influencing the things you choose to write?

 Hobbits: I remember that! I was terribly worried I had offended you :-( But I do think that the cultural assumptions that come from being working class and Irish determine your world-view, and what you think of as dark. (Infamously, Irish writers and playwrights are always writing dark plays and I have spent the last ten years working in a theatre, lol). But also, the reason I didn’t feel “The Boyfriend Experience,” was dark was because I didn’t necessarily feel prostitution or working through trauma were dark, they’re just facts of life. I do have stories I feel are dark, because they’re about hopelessness: Be Near Me… is one, as is Little Goldfish. I would say they’re dark because they take place primarily in very dark places where there’s no light coming in. Molly is being abused, Sherlock can’t move past his own hang ups and traumas. Those seem to me to be dark. But other things, where there’s a bad experience but people are managing to survive, or thrive, those I always find really life affirming. The other thing is that, as someone who deals with depression and anxiety, putting a label on something as dark has always seemed to me a way of making it seem more frightening and debilitating. But if you write about bad stuff that happens, but people survive it then I find that much more life affirming, particularly if you, The Reader, are dealing with some of those things yourself. It’s my way of saying, hey, this doesn’t define you. You aren’t helpless, you can get through this. Not “you must, because if you don’t then you’re weak,” but more, “even if you don’t entirely beat this, there are things you can do. You are more than a label.” Sorry, I’m not sure if I’m getting my meaning across there :-(

 Quarto: Nah, you’re doing fine:)  And at the point I made the original comment I don’t believe I knew how you were going to end the story… which you did with “recovery,” basically, rendering what comes before it a necessary process rather than “Oh fuck that’s a downer.”   When you’ve tried to write horror, though, I will say that you do very well with it, possibly because of that attitude.  The “Eurus thing” ficlet you wrote in “Bumping Back” is one of the creepiest short pieces I can recall reading in this or any fandom, and the bleakness of it is definitely part of that.

 Hobbits: Well, one of the things about writing horror is it’s the only genre I give myself permission in to go to town with the darkness, lol. Every other genre, I always try to have some light at the end, but with horror it’s like, nah, bring it on. I also love writing horror to do with children, because it’s immediately making the adults uncomfortable- Nobody wants to imagine a child in that position. And of course the scariest things for most of us have roots in childhood; Pan’s Labyrinth scared the Bejayzus out of me, Crimson Peak not so much. And it’s because the things which imprint on us in childhood carry that same massive emotional weight throughout our lives. So if you tap into that with a reader, you tap into the child that reader was, not the fully grown up and confident person they’ve become. You can really up the ante emotionally in that way. I’m glad you liked the Eurus Thing btw, though my favorite of that series is probably The Other Tenant, just because I loved the idea of Mrs. Hudson having her own life which is every bit as interesting as her boys’. That’s how I like writing side characters, and I learned that in the XMen fandom: write everyone as if they have something just as interesting going on just off camera/page… Mwah ha ha!

 Quarto: It’s a crime that there’s not WAY more Huddersfic.  She’s had a fascinating life and there’s almost infinite room to give her adventures.  Can we talk about how your life in the theater influences your writing a bit?  You work as far as I can tell exclusively in the present tense… is that a reason why?

 Hobbits: Mmm, that never occurred to me, but you may be right :-) I suppose I got used to writing in the present tense when I first started writing fanfic, because my earlier attempts at writing stories or novels (I emphasize attempts) were all in the past tense, so when I started in fanfic I wanted to experiment, and that was one of the experiments that worked for me. I loved how immediate it made everything. It’s funny, now, twelve years later, that I write so much more fanfic than I do regular prose (I mainly write plays now). I mean, I started in fanfic as a way to experiment with voice, since I had trouble with it when I was younger. I had a tendency, even then, to just write dialogue and nothing else, so I started writing characters I knew well, but who weren’t like the talkative characters I created. That’s one of the reasons I loved writing Logan in X-Men, for example: He’s so bloody gruff and uncommunicative. And then what started as a writing experiment became not only a place to learn my trade, but also a place to experiment with form, to make friends, and to write the sort of things I wanted to write without having to please anyone except myself. It was incredibly liberating, and really important in helping me find my voice and my confidence. I can genuinely say that I wouldn’t have had the confidence to have written my plays, or put them on, without the support of the fanfic community.

 Quarto: You do have a very distinctive authorial voice.  As someone who has been mistaken for MizJoely, Gettingovergreta, and Sunken_Standard on multiple occasions, I am slightly envious of this.  Do you have any authors, fan or professional, who you think have influenced your style?

 Hobbits: Well, in terms of style I can definitely cite Miabicicletta and OhAine as influences, in terms of the way they write and the subject matter they choose. Out here in meatspace, I love writers like Jim Butcher, Ben Aaronovitch and Leigh Bardugo, because they’re experimenting with genre and making it their own. I also love playwrights like Marina Carr and Mark O’Rowe, who again have that authorial voice down pat. As soon as you hear a speech by Marina Carr, you know it’s her. Same with Mark O’Rowe, a man whom even I think writes some dark stuff.

 Quarto: I’m not familiar with him, but I’ll check him out.  And now that you say it, the gritty modern-day fairytale vibe of the Dresden Files does definitely have some hobbitsy nature to it:)

 Hobbits: God bless Harry Dresden, saving the world one random act of destruction at a time!  

 Quarto: Let’s talk shipping a bit.  You started off with Adlock, and one of the things that I have liked about your fic is that you have preserved the importance of that relationship to Sherlock even though you’re obviously writing Sherlolly.  What made you switch?  And when did you start?

 Hobbits: Well, I was asked to write an Adlock fic, which is how I got into the fandom. I had just finished a Darcy/Steve Rogers fic which was about them experimenting with D/s and Wicked Wanton got in touch with me on ff.net and asked me to write about Sherlock and Irene’s first time, specifically because I had written domme!Darcy. Once I wrote that, I started reading stuff around Sherlock and basically stumbled across Sherlolly, which I then fell in love with as a ship. I also felt that Irene, as much as I loved her, wasn’t the sort of person who would have a traditional HEA with Sherlock; my feeling about them was that they would kill one another, long term. Irene is nobody’s love interest, and I couldn’t really make stories which featured her in such a role fly with me. She seemed far too big a character to fulfill a role like that. Whereas with Molly she could have that sort of relationship with him, and not feel constricted. It wouldn’t be out of character for her, which I felt it would be for Irene. But I like Irene as a character, and for that reason I like having her in stories, and I treat her and SHerlock’s past together with respect. It’s entirely possible to love someone and know you can’t live with them. It doesn’t mean Sherlock loves Molly any less, or that he’s settling, they’re just a better match.

 Quarto: Sort of going along with what you were saying earlier about wanting to fill in the stories of the supporting players more than the principals?

 Hobbits: Yeah. I also found Molly more relatable in some ways, because she is the girl next door in a way that Irene isn’t. Molly is extraordinary, and a very specific type of female character who tends to get piled on by certain elements of fandom, so I like writing her. It’s partly wanting to give the side players more space and partly the fact that I loves me an underdog. And the reaction to her character was also soooo tied in with some of the issues fandom has had with misogyny (in the same vein that people reacted to Mary) that I wanted to write something which was pro-woman and pro-ordinary woman. We treat female characters as if we need an excuse to pay attention to them: either they’re naked or suffering or sexy. If they’re not fitting into any of those very specific niches then they get treated like they don’t deserve our attention or respect.

 Quarto: It can indeed be difficult to relate to Irene “Stupidly beautiful, ten steps ahead of everybody, wearing $10,000 outfits” Adler sometimes.  So let’s talk about your Molly a bit… you relate to her being the most “ordinary” woman in the show.  Martin Freeman talked about how John is the “ordinary” man, but is in fact quite accomplished and has had a very interesting and adventurous life.  Do you think something similar applies to Molly?

 Hobbits: Yeah, absolutely. I think that when we talk about “ordinary characters,” in the Sherlock universe, it can be helpful to think about them, not in terms of who they are but what they want. John, Molly and Greg are all normal people who are very good at their jobs/have an amazing skill set, but they want relatively normal things. Happy home lives, a comfortable living. Their version of happiness would look a lot like us viewers’ version. Whereas Sherlock, Mycroft, Mary (to a certain extent), Eurus and Irene all want extraordinary things, as well as being extraordinary themselves. Sherlock wants to be able to tell the truth of someone just by looking at them; Mycroft and Eurus both want to be able to fit this massive, messy world into a box of order which they can understand. Irene wants to see just how far she can push everything, (something she has in common with Sherlock). John, Molly and Greg are ok with having lives more like us other poor schlubs, so long as they’re happy. (Of course, there’s a whole can of worms to be  gone through whether John actually wants that, or thinks he wants that and deep down doesn’t). But I do think Greg and Molly are certainly happy to be Extraordinary Ambitions Adjacent, rather than having those ambitions themselves. They’re not quite so… grandiose, lol.

 Quarto: I can’t believe I’m actually going to type these words, but… I’d argue that Molly is a John mirror (ughhh, m-theory) in some regards.  Because Molly had the opportunity for “normal happiness” with Poor Tom Who Did His Best, and for somewhat ambiguous reasons ended it. Much like John thought he wanted a normal domestic life and accidentally married a superagent?

 Hobbits: I so sometimes hate how much of what should be straight-forward fandom theory has been co-opted. I don’t know if I see her as a mirror for John, because I think if anything she’s a mirror for Sherlock. She’s who Sherlock might have become, had be had a different, more normal set of circumstances. (IE not being the sibling of The British Government and The Greatest Criminal MInd of The Millennium.) Whereas for John, I do think he doesn’t realize that he’s a weirdo like the Holmeses, until it’s staring him in the face. Molly isn’t an image of who he is, so much as who he thought he was, and in that way so are Greg and Stamford. A true mirror might be Sherlock himself, in his addicted-to-danger guise. Hmm, not sure that makes sense… :-/

 Quarto: No, it makes sense, but it’s not a point of view I’ve seen many people espousing, even in Sherlolly fandom.  When you’re writing them do you use the idea that Sherlock and Molly are recognizing some sort of internal similarity to themselves as part of their attraction/interest in one another?

 Hobbits: I do think there’s an element of that, because a lot of what I write has Sherlock being a bit bewildered by emotion, particularly things like tenderness or attraction. Like, the purpose of the whole in-show thing with Irene was that The Woman was dangerous and not to be trusted, which is the message that Mycroft has always seemed to give Sherlock about feelings. So for me Molly represents for him a gradual realisation that feelings aren’t always big and terrifying; they can be sweet, and welcome, and kind, and they can add to your life. They can be safe. The concept of safety gets a bum rap in modern culture, but I think it’s a fundamental part of loving someone, and being able to be with them. Sure, it’s exciting to wonder whether your partner is going to put a knife in your back, but it’s a lot more pleasant (not to mention workable) to be with someone you trust.

 Quarto: Mind if I ask a follow-on question about some of your sexy writing?

 Hobbits: Sure, shoot :-)

 Quarto: You’ve written several BDSM-themed fics with this pairing, I think exclusively with domme!Molly… does that go along with your ideas of “safety” as a critical component to their relationship?

 Hobbits: Yes, in so far as I don’t think BDSM is necessary to feel safe in a relationship, but I do think that the attraction of BDSM in relationships can be that it’s rooted in safety. The submissive gives their control to the dominant, and trusts that the dominant will not take advantage, and will give them pleasure. (One of the reasons I ship Sherlolly more than Adlock is that I don’t think Irene could be trusted, at this point in her life, to do this for Sherlock). If you take that as a given, then the BDSM relationship is very up-front in its terms, and there’s very little grey area. You don’t have to interpret, you’ve already discussed what’s wanted, and where the lines are. There is also a procedure to follow if you need to pull back or change tack. I do think that all couples have elements of submission and dominance (or maybe trust and hand-over is a better way to phrase it), it’s just that D/s couples are more forthright about it. And as someone who sometimes has trouble reading social cues, both I (and, in my writing, Sherlock) appreciate the lack of ambiguity.

 Quarto: You know you bring up a very interesting point and one that I never really thought of.  Your Sherlock, consistently, needs to have trust and safety in his relationship with Molly.  BDSM-fics or otherwise.  And you wrote a lot of them before we knew that he was recovering from such horrific trauma that he suppressed and rewrote the memories of huge segments of his childhood.  What did you see in the character that made you almost prescient about that?

 Hobbits: Hmm… I think it’s because he was, from the beginning, presented to us as someone who was running from something. When you’re ok with where your thoughts are at, you don’t crave distraction in the way Sherlock does. He also didn’t seem to be able to handle his feelings, and that seemed to be tied into the way Mycroft had raised him to think of them: When there isn’t anything dark in the background of a character’s story, they learn to handle their emotions like a normal person, which neither Sherlock nor Mycroft had. It became even more pronounced when we met their lovely, slightly batty but seemingly emotionally healthy parents.

 To be honest though, even if Sherlock hadn’t had the experiences we found out about in S4, I would have thought that the way he’d been raised had traumatized him a bit. Like, Mycroft probably thought he was doing a good thing, but telling a child that their emotions- which they cannot be without, and which act as an early-warning system for abuse and trouble- are not to be trusted is going to mess a kid up. And then there was all that stuff about “do not forget me…” in TAB, and that constant visual about Sherlock being submerged in water… The visuals of the show seemed to be hinting at something even before they came out with it. I am pleased that I called Eurus’ gender before S4, but that’s about the only thing I thought was just me being clever. The rest seemed common sense- If you’ve spent any time around traumatized people, which I have.

 Quarto: You mentioned in your response to the reader questions that you now wouldn’t write Mycroft as being as heartless as you did in, “What The Blackbird Sang.”  Is that just your perception changing or the addition of new material about him to the canon?  Because that is the opposite of how I’ve felt about him:)

 Hobbits: Partly, it’s because I think Mycroft has changed a bit from how we see him in S1, so that by S4 he’s more of a tragic figure. He’s that bloke who thought he was so much cleverer than everyone else, and then you realize that it’s just a cover because he has been asked to deal with things he has no idea how to deal with. And his sticking with keeping Eurus on Sherrinford, and not telling his parents, shows that. (In my HC, Rudy was her initial jailor, since Mycroft couldn’t have been old enough to make it happen). Mycroft reacted like a little kid who has done something wrong: hide it, contain it, don’t tell anyone about it. Make sure, as far as possible, that Eurus is ok, but that’s all. He puts all this pressure on himself, because he doesn’t know what else to do. One of the things which I loved about TFP is when Mummy tells Sherlock, “everyone knows you’re the sensible one!” Because yes, Mycroft is the elder and seems so much more put together, but in that family Sherlock is actually the emotionally healthy one. He’s grown and learned over the years, which Mycroft hasn’t. And that’s a real shame, because it damages Mycroft, and Eurus, and his parents.

  (At this point in the interview Quarto ran a word count, realized this was getting lengthy, and decided to do some more rapid-fire Q&A.)

  Quarto: So where do you see your future fics going, at two years into the long (and possibly unending) hiatus?  Any things you’re wanting to write that we haven’t seen yet?

 Hobbits: Well, I suppose I’ll stop writing when I stop having ideas for fics. I mean, that’s the thing about fandom, it’s a self-replenishing medium, so even if a new piece of canon doesn’t inspire you, a new fic or piece of fan art might. I do have a couple of pieces I wish I had gone back to (The Copperbeech Identity, Red Door Black and No Capes! Are the ones which spring immediately to mind.) Obviously, I want to finish Bliss and The Sting in The Honey… And I do have an idea for a Sherlolly AU which is set in a theatre during the production of a new show. (Seriously, you wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve seen in the last week before curtain-up, lol). At some point I’ll get to it, hopefully. For the time being though, I’m happy where I am. The only way I’d move on or step away is if I find something which grabs my attention more, and at the moment that’s not happening. So I am here for the time being, and I’m hoping that, even if I stop posting fic or fan art (something I’m dipping my toe into) then I will still be able to keep in touch with all the friends I’ve made in the fandom.

 Quarto: I’d love it if you finished “Red Door Black.”  I reread that one while prepping for this and had forgotten how much I loved it.  And I’m here for your theater AU.  Any fics you wish you’d written differently, or things you’d change?

 Hobbits: I would have written Mycroft differently in Be Near Me… as I said. I might have written some of Rudest Man... differently, because I felt it ended up being very finicky as a plot. I had so many balls in the air, I’m not entirely sure I kept them all in motion in the best way. But that’s what happens when you give yourself 4 main pairings, two villains and permission to bring in any universe elements you want, including Torchwood and Tarzan, lol. Also, Sally and Henry Knight’s day will come, I tell you!

 Quarto: Lol, I’d forgotten the little Lord Greystoke cameo in that one.  What’s the best thing you’ve written?

 Hobbits: Ah jaysus, you can’t ask an author that! I have some stories which I love, but which haven’t gotten much attention: Sense and Sensitivity, for example, in which Eurus runs away with the Guardians of the Galaxy, for example. Occasionally I just write weird stuff which makes me laugh. I think And A Garden… and What the Blackbird Sang are probably the two best structured stories. There’s nothing superfluous in them, nobody is out of character. I love the emotion of The Coffin-Maker’s Lullaby, because it was kind of like my thank you to the show; I had assumed that after S4 there was no chance it was coming back, at all, EVER, so that was my goodbye in a way. (Although, of course, then the fandom just kept going, and we found out there might be more, eventually. So it ended up being less a swan-song and more a high five)

 Quarto: The original version of that question, FWIW, was “what’s the worst thing you’ve written” but I’m being positive today:) Any tips for fic writers just in general, or for people writing Sherlolly, or Molly specifically?

 Hobbits: I have to admit, if I think something is bad then I’ll pull it. So anything I have up, I feel fairly happy with, even if I can see little niggling things I might change, not be happy with.

 I think in writing, the thing I always say is do the first draft. Do the first draft and be happy that it’s shite, that’s the first draft’s job. You only get better if you write that first draft, and then improve on it. You only learn if you do that, and it’s trial and error. There’s a Miles Davis quote I love: “It sure does take a long time to sound like yourself.” And it’s true, it does. So give yourself the time. Don’t be worried about not sounding like anyone else: you only have to sound like you. If you’re writing in fandom, don’t stay in a fandom which is nasty to you or negative; you want to be in a place which is supportive. The Clois, Rogan and Sherlolly fandoms were all supportive and kind to me, and I couldn’t have developed as I have without them. I also couldn’t have continued to write the fic I write, which is feminine-positive, in a nasty or anti-feminist place. My one rule for my fic is that one of the female characters, somewhere, must be either getting what she wants, or on the way to getting it. That should absolutely be a thing in writing, and never be embarrassed or sorry about wanting that.

 As for Molly, I think the writers have done an amazing job with her over the last few years. She went from being a walk over to an interesting, multi-faceted character in her own right. And she did it without having to become something she’s not: Molly will never be a Strong Female Character, and thank god for that! She’s more human and more interesting than that tag would ever make her.

 Quarto: Words of wisdom.  Hobbits, thank you for talking with me today!

 Hobbits: It was my pleasure. If you need anything else, just let me know… And merry Christmas from Dublin :-)

So much thanks to Quarto and Hobbits for giving their time and energy to this project.

Next week: 

Our next interview, featuring @lilsherlockian1975 and @mrsmcrieff, will be posted on Friday 22 February.

[sherlolo-land]

*takes a shot every time mouseymodesty says “outrage”*

As you all know, mouseymodesty is one of those Sherlollians who believe that women can’t be capable of inflicting abuse and and only men are. In this post, she modestly answers the anon about why Johnlockers don’t talk about the violent scene in TLD and wonders why we didn’t cry out in outrage about it.

You’re kidding us, right? Maybe we were so sickened by it, we didn’t want to talk about it. It was a horrible scene. Did you ask around, Mousey? Or are you too much like your URL that you just timidly assume all Johnlockers are into blood? You Sherlollians bring it up so much, that we wonder if you’re obsessed with John being the bad guy for once. You like the fact that Johnlock is flawed. We already have proof of you and your friends enjoying the scene. Take a look through our blog.

We acknowledge that John has anger issues and trust issues. He has a lot of turmoil built in him, and it’s disappointing that we never got to see any of that resolved in the show. He was made into an angry cardboard figure of himself. And we hate what he did to Sherlock. We don’t hate him, but we believe what he did was terrible wrong. But you refuse to believe any of us, because you like to stay in your cozy Johnlockers-are-evil blanket and believe that we never acknowledged any of it.

As for Molly and this whole “she’s abusive and has anger issues” - well she does, sorry to burst your modest bubble. She’s been suppressing that inside of herself for so long and being mad at Sherlock for not recognizing her feelings for him, and then he takes drugs and Molly’s emotions just come flying out of the bottle. Anyone with 2 eyes knows why Molly brings over her fiance Tom, who’s dressed to the hilt like Sherlock, and then acts all annoyed at Janine for catching the bouquet from Sherlock at the Watsons’ wedding. She’s obsessed with Sherlock. She has in her mind the kind of man she believes him to be. And then she hits him when he takes drugs. We expressed our ahem, “outrage” over that because Molly should have known better. We mean, after all, if she’s able to control herself better than John like you Sherlollians claim she can, she shouldn’t have hit him at all.

John’s scene with Sherlock was just so shocking and violent that we didn’t WANT to talk about it. We were stunned. But we know you don’t care.

And let’s get down to where you modestly mentioned you read comments from “cult members” about why Irene’s “lipstick kiss” was abuse - it would be swell if you had some proof to back that up. We don’t think we were threatened in any way by Irene’s presence, because she does tell John that SHE’S GAY.

Yeah. Reminder for the Sherlollians and Adlockers. Irene is gay. She says so herself.

It’s interesting though how you just skip over the fact that Irene whips Sherlock when she’s trying to get her phone back.

We’re not going to get into the I Love You scene because we’ve covered that so many times that it’s like banging our heads into a wall. Long story short: Sherlock has treated Molly like shit. Out of the blue he calls her. She’s having a bad day and is Done. He tells her to say that she loves him, because it’s for a case. Yeah, that’s pretty fucked up, Mousey, whether you accept it or not.

And we know John isn’t a perfect person. He wasn’t the greatest husband, but you know, Mary wasn’t the perfect wife, either. Maybe next time when you gloss over your mousey tantrum essay, you can include some truths about how you know “it’s ok” because “jlock is canon.”

Shit happened in the show but none of it is okay, regardless of whatever ship is canon. None of it was okay.

You Sherlollians are okay with Molly smacking Sherlock around because you believe your ship is canon. But to repeat from earlier, if Molly is a better character than John is, she should have controlled herself better. Perhaps that’s why we expressed more disappointment. John fucked up. But so did Molly.

And Mousey, really, we know you’re just so pissed off at men getting away with everything because their anatomy. It’s not because of their feelings, their headspace, their personality, their background, their issues, their skin color, their height, their passions, their sexual orientation, the color of their eyes, etc. But you just hate John because of what’s between his legs.

If you want to modestly keep believing that that’s why we love John, go ahead. After all, it’s the reason why you love Loo Brealey, right?

Thanks for modestly stopping by.

[maddiefurtado]

My little (okay not so little) rant about the Sherlock Fandom & their Ship-wars (Ship #1 - Marylock)

FULL DISCLOSURE - I totally support that fact that people can ships their own ships. So this little rant is not to bash people about who they ship together. While being apart of other fandoms (Walking Dead, etc) I know how messy things like this can get. This is only to help me get all these thoughts out of my head before my head explodes and they might be a little long, so please read at your own risk.

SIDE NOTES - Any of these GIF used in this post was not created by me, they are created by their respected owners & just a heads up! If you are reading this off the mobile app, the format of this post will be messed up, sorry about that.

I want to start off my rant with this true fact: I literally just started with the Sherlock Fandom. (Maybe around a year and a half ago??) I fell so hard for this show. No lie. I love every part of it and what it’s all about. Through binge watching, bless you netflix I started to decide what ships I belonged to. And while scrolling through Tumblr, I noticed a lot of hate about the other ships on this show. After seeing this, I personally wanted to share my thoughts and feelings about each ship on the show and where I stand with them. I know they’re a shit-ton of ships in this show, but I will be talking about the main ships I noticed or feel for, in this series. 

Here are the Ships I will be taking about:

Sherlock/Mary: Marylock 

Sherlock/John: Johnlock

Sherlock/Irene: Adlock

Sherlock/Moriarty: Sheriarty

Sherlock/Lestrade: Sherstrade

John/Mary: Warstan 

John/Sara: Does this have a ship name?

Molly/Moriarty: Moliarty

Molly/Lestrade: Lestrolly

Moriarty/Eurus:  Euriarty

Lestrade/Mycroft: Mystrade

Anderson/Donovan: Andervan

SAVING THE BEST FOR LAST - Sherlock/Molly: Sherlolly 

AS NOTED EARLIER: I AM NOT BASHING OTHER PEOPLE’S SHIPS. SHIP ON SHERLOCKIANS WITH ALL YOUR HEART.

The first ship I’m starting with is: Marylock (I thought this would be a good start)

To get straight to the point… am I the only one who sees Mary and Sherlock as like BROTP? They both love John, which is completely obvious. For Mary: John gave Mary a chance at a normal life. For Sherlock: John gave Sherlock his friendship, he humanized him.

Mary says ‘I like him“ many times through the show about Sherlock because they have a lot in common. They both are very intellectual. Even Sherlock agrees with that statement.

Even though Mary has done some terrible things in the past shooting Sherlock Sherlock also never judged Mary about who she is, well was. He never judged her past because to him, everyone has secrets.

And should I mention.. HE’S SAVED HER LIFE SO MANY TIMES??? Merry Christmas Magnussen!! He tried to save it again in season 4. So how can someone say he hates her? johnlock shippers He had always respected her and cared for her. She was his family. 

Mary and Sherlock had a relationship like two siblings, teasing each other, caring for each other and most of all, helping each other in times of need. An example of this is when Sherlock helped Mary with the A.R.G.A situation. Letting her know about the man who was after her. 

AJ:“You know her? You do, don’t you! You know the bitch!” 

SHERLOCK: “Mary… this is about Mary?” 

AJ: “Tell her she dead woman, she’s a dead woman walking…”  

SHERLOCK: “She’s my friend and she’s under my protection…” 

Not only does Sherlock care/cared for Mary but also regrets losing her….

It is very obvious how upset Sherlock was when Mary sacrificed herself to save him. He knew that he messed up everything and broke his promise to protect her. He is hurt by the loss of one of his closest friends. Feels guilty too. He made a vow remember?

SHERLOCK: “In saving my life she conferred a value on it. It is a currency I do not know how to spend.”

THE MOST IMPORTANT THING I FIND BETWEEN THESE TWO IS:

Mary helped save “the man they both love…”

MARY: If you’re watching this, I’m… probably dead. I’m giving you a case, Sherlock. Might be the hardest case of your career. When I’m… gone, if I’m gone, I need you to do something for me. Save John Watson. Save him, Sherlock. Save him. Don’t think anyone else is going to save him, because there isn’t anyone. It’s up to you. Save him. 

She knew her death was going to ruin John. He has lost so much over the years. She knew it was going destroy him and the only way he was going to be okay, is if Sherlock saved him. 

MARY: But I do think you’re going to need a little bit of help with that, because you’re not exactly good with people, so here’s a few things you need to know about the man we both love - and more importantly, what you’re going to need to do to save him: 

But she knew it wasn’t going to be an easy task. She knew John to a T and she knew Sherlock to a T. She knew that Sherlock was going to need some help with this “case” she presented to him. 

See how she says, “The man we both love.”? Mary loves Sherlock and John as her family and she wants John to be happy, even after she is gone.

MARY: John Watson never accepts help. Not from anyone. Not ever. But here’s the thing - he never refuses it. So, here’s what you are going to do. You can’t save John, because he won’t let you. He won’t allow himself to be saved. 

She knew that John was always the follower and the helper of the Baker Street squad. She knew that when it comes down to it, John is loyal and will always be there in times of need. 

He is the type of man who would rather help other people solve their problems, instead of solving his own. Helping others with their problems helps him forget about his own problems, even if it just for a little while.  

MARY: The only way to save John is to make him save you. Go to hell, Sherlock. Go right into hell and make it look like you mean it. Go and pick a fight with a bad guy. Put yourself in harm’s way. If he thinks you need him, I swear… he will be there.

Here Mary tells Sherlock what to do in the best way he understands. “Go to hell…” This means Sherlock had to do the unthinkable and bring himself back to his darkest times to bring John back to reality. This was the only way.

MARY: PS - I know you two. And if I’m gone, I’ll know what you could become. Because I know who you really are. A junkie, who solves crimes to get high. And a doctor, who never came home from the war. Will you listen to me? Who you really are, it doesn’t matter. It’s all about the legend, the stories, the adventures. There is a last refuge for the desperate, the unloved, the persecuted. There is a final court of appeal for everyone. When life get’s too strange, too impossible, too frightening, there is always one last hope. 

Mary also knew that the adventure won’t stop after she’s gone. She knew that they would continue to be the men she knows they are, then men she’s proud of, the men she’s lucky to have gotten to know.   

MARY: When all else fails, there are two men, sitting, arguing in a scruffy flat, like they always been there and they always will. The best and wisest men I had ever known… my Baker-Street boys…Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. 

Mary loved these two men. They gave her what she always wanted: a family. Someone to called her own. 

So, all in all, did they like each other romantically? In my opinion, no. Did they care about each other? Yes. 

They loved each other like family and that means more to me then them being romantically involved.  

P.S - My favourite moment between them: 

Part two coming up soon! 

[just-kalina]

Okay but I don't understand why people are salty about the outcome of season 4. My theory is that Johnlock will never be canon because Moftiss doesn't want to destroy the other ships (Adlock, Sheriarty, etc.) and disappoint those fans who don't believe in Johnlock, but another ship. (As a Mystrade shipper, I understand because I'd be really devastated if Lestrolly came together or anything. Like, it's quite nice to have some freedom there, so everyone's happy.) However, I feel like season 4 was the closest to a final outcome of Johnlock, because they built up Baker Street together and then there were only scenes in Baker Street, so I believe it is safe to say that John canonically moved back to 221b. Because, why should he stay alone with a child when he could move back to his friend who could help him? And Sherlock is canonically a sweetheart to Rosie. So that's the end of season 4, but why not think a bit further? What happens when Rosie grows up and needs a room for herself, what are they going to do? Put her in 221c? Put a small child into another flat? Possible, of course, but I imagine it to be impractical, scary and expensive. So I imagine they'd give her John's room, and what happens to John? "I told you, you could just use my bed." "Yes, I know, Sherlock, but-" "What?" "People will definitely talk! It's not usual for two men-" "It is not usual for two men to live together and raise a kid. People are talking anyway, John. They do more than talking. Haven't you read The Sun's interview with Mrs Turner, about the 'Two Happy Gays in 221b'?" "Yes, I - Oh God, yes, of course I have." "Look, I've got one big bed now. We can use that one until we buy two smaller beds. How is that? Would that be socially acceptable?" "Yes, that's alright." And of course, they never get to buy another bed.

[baskingintheinsanity]

More Than Kind and Less Than Kind, Chapter Two

A/n: Wow, this chapter is much longer than the first. C’est la vie. Please send in plot ideas if you guys have any bunnies jumping around in your head. I know the adlock fam is much smaller than some of my other fandoms, but I love you guys and I love writing for this fandom because we get so little on screen. I hope you all enjoy. I love writing Sherlock and Irene. Their banter is my favourite. All I’ve got say is…beware the East Wind.

Find all my stories at https://www.fanfiction.net/u/3738156/PixieKindOfCrazy if you care.

Chapter 2:

“You do realize, at one point, you will have to leave this room?”

One would assume that this question was directed at Irene by Sherlock, hoping to avoid his blogger seeing the Woman. Incorrect.

Irene was leaning in the doorway, attempting to repress the urge to put her hand on her hip and scold the man lazing in bed.

“That poses a rather brilliant existential question, my love-if I stay in this exact spot forever, and the furnishings around me change, am I still in my bedroom?”

Irene rolled her eyes starkly, pushing off the wall in frustration and stalking away to the kitchen. She couldn’t help that her body portrayed her emotions with him sometimes. His presence had a way of stripping off her veneer without her noticing. It was rather irritating.

A few moments later, she heard the distinct sounds of his sluggish foot steps.  She was too busy making herself a cup of coffee to bother to turn around and face him.

“I feel sorry for your mother,” she remarked as she felt him enter the room, “You must have been a hellishly difficult child.”

“Hmm, I feel sorry for you actually,” he smirked, pausing a moment to simply watch the way her hands moved as she stirred the cream into her coffee.

“And why is that?” she finally turned to look at him, blinking twice as she tests her patience to indulge him just this once.

“Because,” he chuckled, a deep timber, “I was a difficult child. And I still am,” he finished, taking the mug of caffeine from her hands smoothly.

He sipped it in appreciation and held back the full smile that often wanted to break out on his face whenever he teased her, “Mmm. Quite good.”

Her stare became icy and her eyes resembled those of a feline, hunting and planning its next move.  

“Oh stop,” he mumbled, handing her the mug back and giving a quick, amused snort as he walked to the refrigerator. He opened the door, looking around for the experiment he started the day before. Where are those eyeballs??

“Excuse me?” she bantered back, “Stop what?”

“The look on your face,” he gestured vaguely to her expression, not bothering to actually look at her.

“The annoyed look? I’m sorry, but I’m afraid that may stay on my face for the majority of the time we spend together, darling.”

He grimaced at the pet name and leaned against the counter, nibbling on the biscuit he’d gotten out of the fridge John kept telling him that biscuits go in the cupboard, but he liked them better cold.

“No-the murder-plotting look. As you stated previously, you can’t kill me and hide the evidence before John gets here.”

She scoffs, “Please, I don’t have a-“

“It’s the same look you get whenever I stop moving right before you orgasm or if I wake you up before your alarm goes off. When I leave a plate out on the table after dinner-that look,” he points at her face, matter of fact, “And when you find one of my experiments on top of your bag, I can tell the murder would be quite creative. Call it what you will, but I know what you’re thinking when that look is on your face-you’re imaging creative ways to maim me.”

“Hmm. He’s learning,” she cooed and carefully pressed her body close up against his, loving to feel how his heartbeat sped up as he squirmed. She smiled up at him, fake sweetness and eyelashes, as she slid her hand expertly up the collar of his robe. His eyes flickered down to follow the movement of her hand, for once, unaware of his actions.

“However….” She breathed softly, her face tilting up towards his.

“However…?” his gaze is trapped on her lips now, smeared lipstick still there from the night previous and he wondered if she has left the same mark on him. Most likely.

She deftly grabbed the biscuit out of his hand and stepped back from his body, leaving him cold. She hopped up to sit on the kitchen table behind him and grinned. It is the only time Sherlock could remember having ever seen her resemble a child and a mischievous one at that.

“However, I’m the master.”

His expression automatically fell into Pout Number Three, as she liked to call it. Or ‘the one where Irene beats me and I don’t get to feel like the cool one.’ She forces herself not to admit that the frown looks a little bit charming on his daft face as he mutters, “Biscuit thief, more like.”

He grumbled slightly as he pulled up a chair at the island and sat next to her, picking up the newspaper whose origin of appearance had had no idea of. He hadn’t picked one up yesterday and he didn’t remember seeing Irene with one. Quite a small, unimportant detail, but it perturbed him; he hated not noticing things. She distracted him.

“Sherlock!” the two strange creatures inhabiting the flat heard a voice call out as marked, familiar footsteps approached, “You better still be in here of sound mind or I’ll be having a talk with Greg to get guards at this door,” John Watson walked into the flat quite casually, like he was still living there, and hung his coat on the rack. His back was towards them so he had yet to glimpse the woman, sitting on the kitchen table in his best friend’s dress shirt.

Sherlock smiled ever so slightly, the tiniest bit amused, and nodded at Irene. It was a silent gesture for her to hide. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want his trusted friend to know that he…kept in contact, so to speak, with the Woman.  But he had an idea in mind.

Sherlock didn’t say a word, but Irene knew that he wanted to play a game on his blogger. Their similar world-view lends the couple several advantages; the gift of silent, efficient communication is probably the most useful.

Before the good doctor could even turn around, Irene had slipped from the kitchen to hide in the bathroom alongside. She briefly wondered what Sherlock was playing at and how long it would take John to notice her signature Louis Vitton heels on the floor by Sherlock’s chair.

“Oh calm down, John. I’m perfectly capable of caring for myself. You lot seem to forget, but I am not actually an infant.”

John fixes his friend with a potent glare, “No, actually-my infant is easier to watch after. At least she doesn’t shoot up heroine when she’s upset.”

Sherlock held back the first acrid thought that came to his bitter mind- ‘that you know of’ probably wasn’t the best joke to tell a man about his daughter soon after his wife had died.

Instead, he lightly rolled his eyes and went to sit down in his chair in the living room, still reading the paper, “It was cocaine this time, actually.”

John walked further into the flat and heaved a sigh, nodding, “Of course it was. You don’t-“

“No, Watson. I don’t still have any; Lestrade made sure to confiscate every last piece of contraband I own.  Well, of the drug variety.”

John frowned slightly in response, wondering about that last remark for a split second before he cut his thought process off, “Nope. Don’t need to know the particulars. Don’t live here anymore. And I am not your babysitter, Sherlock.” “Could’ve fooled me.”

The shorter man paused, a little thrown by the change in his friend’s attitude. He seemed…less down than the night before. His tone was distinctly less pained than yesterday. Almost playful. When john looked at his eyes, he could tell the pain and guilt were still there. But there was something else. “Are you…high right now? Or perhaps a little drunk…”

“Wha-“ Sherlock scoffed and put the paper down dramatically, “I just told you that I don’t have any drugs in the flat. I know you’re not dumb, John, so maybe you’re going deaf?”

A comment that should have stung simply bounced off John’s jacket; he was too used to Sherlock’s verbal antics and deflections.

“No, you just seem….” He scanned the room for clues- something he learned from the man he was currently analyzing- and his eyes fell on a distinctive pair of high heels with red bottoms, “distracted….better, maybe. Than yesterday.” “Hmm,” Sherlock hummed neutrally, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, as he watched John’s eyes to see the gears grind in his head, “Well I am certainly not high, unfortunately. I can assure you that.”

The room is dead silent for a minute before the sound of Sherlock groan of pleasure cut through the air. Which was quite confusing for John considering Sherlock’s mouth had not opened or moved. The man looked rather bored, really.

“Sherlock??” John raised an eyebrow in a slightly disturbed, confused expression, “Was that-“

He sighed as he hears a woman’s voice cursing quietly from the hall, “No…well, not live,” he rolled his eyes as Irene walked out from the bathroom and came to stand behind him, “It was Irene’s text-tone,” he sensed her behind him and turned slightly to give her a brief, annoyed stare, “I still don’t understand how you recorded that without my knowing. Or why.”

Irene Adler laughed softly to herself in a way a woman does when a man asks a very dumb question. She moved to position herself in front of the chair, sitting on the arm of it and draping her legs across Sherlock’s lap. She smiled briefly at John, enjoying his bewilderment.

“Do use that beautiful brain, Sherl. You know you don’t notice much when I’m getting you to make those sounds.”

Sherlock’s eyes flare at her in annoyance as John’s widen in shock. “Irene…” John says her name, almost to himself, as he stares at her and tries to ascertain if she’s real or not, “I knew you weren’t dead, but-“ he blinks, stopping as something suddenly catches up with him, “Hold on, did she just call you, Sherl?”

Sherlock sighed in exasperation-he had hoped his friend wouldn’t notice that part- and reluctantly bit out, “Apparently, it’s her new method of torture. I’m trying to get her to stop.”

“Right,” he nodded to himself continually, too shocked to process all of his thoughts, “Okay…..” he stared at the previously dead woman lounging on the detective’s lap and can’t seem to accept the visual in front of him. This was worse than the time Sherlock had pretended to date what’s her name, “Why is she sitting on your lap? There is another chair.”

“She,” Irene suddenly spoke up, with a slight spike to her voice, “is sitting right here and can speak for herself, Dr. Watson. I’m in this chair because the other one is yours. Obviously.”

John froze, taken aback at the respect that she had automatically showed him, “Oh…but I’m not using it.”

“No, but you always come back to that chair. And argue with Sherlock. He needs that. If I sit there, I might eventually get in the way.”

Sherlock looked out the window and shoved the smirk he waned to let out back down into his pocket, “Plus it is easier for her to manhandle me this way.”

“Hush, you love how I handle you.”

Sherlock did not blush. He does not blush. Ever.

He may have blushed, “Woman…” he pinched the bridge of his nose, impatient with her, “Would you please refrain?”

“Of course,” she stood up gracefully and leaned over to kiss his lips- a short, surprisingly loving touch, “I have to go shortly, anyway. Business to attend to.” She headed to his room to get changed, but not before giving one last sharp remark, “The cinnamon roll in the fridge is mine and if you eat it while I’m gone, I will bake your microscope in the oven until it’s just as gooey.”

“Noted.”

-----------------

The two men sat in silence in the small, shabby living room. One casually flipped through the newspaper, pretending to be interested in it to avoid the other man’s gaze. The other man, for his part, waited until the woman had shut the door of the bedroom before he exploded on his friend.

“Sherlock!” he almost shouted, sputtering, “I can’t believe…actually I can,” he took a deep breath and shook his head, calming himself down. “Explain,” he demanded.

“What exactly do you want me to tell you? I thought the situation was self-explanatory.” Sherlock was genuinely confused.

“Don’t give me that! Until the other day, I thought she was dead! Then I have to piece together by myself that you saved her. And now she shows up in the flat. I knew you kept in touch with her occasionally, but…she’s wearing your shirt Sherlock and I know what that means.”

“I don’t think you do-“

“I’m a grown man. I know how sex works.”

Sherlock held his tongue in his cheek for a second before explaining, “She’s not wearing it because of some sexy cliché. I ripped her dress. She has nothing else to wear.”

“Oh.”

“Yes,” he nodded, pretending not to be proud of himself for that.

“That still explains nothing!” he snapped, “I’m your friend, Sherlock….this sort of stuff-major life stuff…well, I kind of thought you would tell me about it.”

He wanted to tell him not to be a girl about this, but he could sense that that would be indelicate at the moment. As Irene said, he was learning; his emotional intelligence was growing.

Sherlock groaned, unsure of how to be proceed, and feeling a slight stab of guilt. He had already caused John too much pain, “John…you are my only friend. Really,” he shrugs, “And I wasn’t hiding her. It’s not as if I don’t trust you.” “Then why did I have no idea?”

He broke, “Because I don’t know how to do it, John! It wasn’t a plan. I didn’t come up with an elaborate secret and purposely keep it from everyone. I just didn’t talk about it…about her. Because I don’t know how to. Not knowing makes me uncomfortable, you know that. So I avoid the topic. Until she shows up.”

John nodded in understanding. Sherlock really wasn’t as complicated of a man as he would have liked everyone to think. He was a brilliant mind guided by the soul of a confused child that only ever wanted adventures. Interpersonal relationships were not his forte. Most children learned to navigate their way through relationships, romantic or otherwise, as they grew up and became adults. Sherlock skipped that stage. He went straight from child to adult; the empathy, the stage that links childhood to adulthood, was thrown out in his upbringing. And the reason for that dismissal of empathy was erased, replaced by a macabre nursery rhyme.

“So…” John leaned forward, elbows on his knees, ready to listen, “Why did she show up?”

Sherlock didn’t answer, glancing to his phone before he could control the impulse.

“Ah,” John smiled, proud that Sherlock had taken his advice, “You texted her.” “Yes,” Sherlock assented, “…We talked about cake.”

John threw a disbelieving quirked brow at his former flat mate, “Is that all you talked about?”

Sherlock did not move. His body stayed still as his mind whirled, debating how much to tell John. It is still a sensitive subject for them both.

“No,” he hesitated before continuing, “Of course not.”

“Then what-“

Sherlock ran a hand over his face, rubbing his forehead in distress, “Mary. We talked about Mary.”

John’s eyes widened for a second, a little worried that Sherlock was sharing such personal details to a woman that was technically a criminal.

Sherlock shook his head, reading the thought off of John’s face, “I didn’t tell her. She already knew. I just…elaborated. On my part of the story.”

“There’s still something I don’t understand, though. Why? Why did you message her in the first place? I thought you didn’t text her back.”

Sherlock chuckled at his friend’s see-through lie, “No, you didn’t. You didn’t believe me when I said that.”

John smiled, happy to see his friend more at ease now than he had been the last couple of weeks, “No, I didn’t. You’re not as good a liar as you think.”

“I know,” he said, “I…wanted to talk to someone that I didn’t have to explain things to.”

John frowned again, offended just a tad, “Just because I’m not as intelligent as you, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t understand what you were feeling.”

“No!” he explained, “I didn’t mean it like….I’m honestly not sure how to explain this, but Irene knows what I’m thinking. You know I don’t like to voice my feelings out loud. Especially the really difficult ones. If I talk to her about everything, I don’t have to say what’s bothering me. I deflect her questions too, when she probes too deep, but she reads between the lines of my words and…she knows what I’m refusing to say.”

The way John was looking at him at that moment made Sherlock want to take back everything he just said and throw himself into a black hole. Why does everyone have to look at him like that green Christmas monster that grew a heart whenever he talks about what he feels? It’s not a conducive reaction if they’re trying to get him to open up more often.

John looked at Sherlock like he finally realized his friend was capable of real human emotion. And, admittedly, it made John feel good that there was finally something he knew more about than Sherlock.

“So you wanted to talk to her so you could feel like someone was sympathizing with you, without having to do any work?”

Sherlock glanced down at the paper again, supremely uncomfortable and uninterested in the daily news, “I guess it was just easier,” he said, “She understood. Didn’t think I was crazy, or going soft. And it helps that she doesn’t look at me like a baby learning to speak when I announce that I ,in fact, do have emotions.”

John felt a little bit bad for that part, so he gave in, “Fair point.”

---------------

The restaurant she was supposed to meet her next client at was filled with pretension. The overly ornate curtains covering the glass windows had fleur de lis carefully stitched onto them. The hand folded napkin at each place setting was an origami swan. The entire décor screamed for attention, but Irene was not intimidated. She knew how to make herself appear as if she belonged anywhere. She was the ultimate chameleon and her sleek dark blue dress was all the camouflage she would need today.

For the man she was meeting, however, she could not say the same. As she walked in, she saw him sat at one of the front tables by himself. He was meeting the dress code of the restaurant, yes. But only technically. His sport coat was a size too small-obviously borrowed from a much fitter man whom could afford fancy dress. His face was freshly shaven, but littered with tiny razor nicks, as if he didn’t groom himself often enough to know how to do so properly. The little hair he had was combed over into the only decent style he knew. As much as she hated crediting Sherlock’s ego, she had to admit that spending time around him seemed to have given her powers of observations a tune up.

The man did not fit in in this place, but he was trying hard to disguise himself. That fact put Irene off just a little bit. Usually, if a client is unkempt, they don’t ask to meet in a place like this, knowing they wouldn’t blend in. But she sat down across from the man regardless.

“Your associate said you had some information I might find useful…” she let her red-painted lips naturally curve into the sinister smirk that never failed to ensnare every one of her clients.

He swallowed and used the pristine napkin to wipe the slight sweat that had accumulated off his forehead. Nerves. Why is he so scared? She wondered as she slightly narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“Yes,” he managed to stutter out, eyes darting from side to side once, checking if he was being watched? “And I will tell you, I swear. But I believe my associate mentioned something about your methods of compensation?”

She rolled her eyes elegantly, picking up the menu to scan it for her favourite cocktail-dealing with this man may require booze, “Recreational scolding. The rough stuff,” she flicked her eyes back up from the menu to meet his in order to gauge his reaction, “If I deem the information you give me to be valuable, then I will pay for it.”

“Wait, you mean…if I tell you first, right here, then you will…punish me?”

She sighed and nodded nonchalantly, bored, “Yes. But only if the information is worth it.”

“No!” he frowned at her, fear in his eyes, “I want a guarantee that I will be paid. This information…it isn’t safe for me to be giving.”

“Not safe for you or not safe for me?” she lifted an eyebrow curiously.

The man suddenly became serious and a cold look came into his eyes, as if a chill had invaded his bones, “Not safe for either of us.”

“Oh, I’m intrigued,” she grinned, refusing to allow this man’s fear to rub off on her, “Do explain, sir.”

“Guarantee my payment. I guarantee you it’s worth it…if you value your life.” In Irene’s line of work, threats to her life were not uncommon. She refrained from another eyeroll, “Of course I do. But how can I be sure that you aren’t simply pulling my leg?”

“I know who you are, Ms. Adler. You’re supposed to be able to tell when a man is lying to you. That’s what they say, at least. Look at my face, look in my eyes….I’m not faking.”

Irene paused, briefly admiring the hit at her ego as an attempt to persuade her. She examined the man’s expression, the thoughts behind his eyes, and something there shook her a little, “You really are scared…But, of who?”

Most people would ask ‘Of what?’, but it’s quite obvious what he is afraid of-whoever he got this information from will kill him if he relays it to her. Ergo….who?

“Someone that is very interested in you, that you better pray you never meet.” “Is that all you can give me?” She pretended to not be affected, as was her method.

“I can tell you that the man I got this information from checked himself into an asylum the next day, muttering ‘Don’t let her in.’”

“So it’s a woman that’s in control, huh? Refreshing,” she quipped, looking the man up and down for a second, “And what is this information you’re lording over me?”

The man’s face went pale, all life drained away as he looked towards the door for a second then back at her, “Leave England. She’s after you. The man I spoke of…he gave me this, stole it from one of her guards.”

As he handed over an old crumpled note, she frowned in interest, “She has body guards?”

“No…cell guards. My informant worked as a janitor at her prison.”

She took the note from him carefully, a dubious expression etched onto her face, “She’s coming to get me…from jail?”

“Oh yes, Miss. Read the note.”

The woman looked down at the faded piece of parchment in her hands as was barely able to discern ‘Irene Adler-221 B Baker Street.’

The man nodded at the aghast look that came over her face; Irene hid it well, but the fact that this crazy woman knew she would be at Sherlock’s place worried her, “She was scribbling that over and over again on the walls of her cell.”

“But this isn’t even the current address of my hotel in London.”

“No,” the man smiled, darkly amused despite himself, “But it’s where you were last, isn’t it?”

A silence fell across the table as Irene considered this pathetic, little man, and whether to trust his story. When she got up from the table, she still hadn’t decided, “This meeting is over. Consider my payment nullified.”

She drowned out the man’s indignant complaining as she walked out of the restaurant, her heart beating in her ears.

-------------

She honestly wasn’t going to concern Sherlock with this worry. She could take care of it herself; this type of thing has happened to her before. And she certainly wasn’t running from London because of a sad, horny man’s anonymous tip.

But she had gone back to 221 B, as the note had predicted she would. Her desire to be unpredictable lost to her stubbornness to admit she was afraid. She was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea when she received a text from an unknown number and dropped the cup to the floor, the pieces shattering as her skin went icy.

Contact: Unknown, received 2:05 p.m:

As the east wind blows to beautiful Calypso So approaches his test The sea has grown treacherous, the waves don’t love him They will give him no rest When the waters turn against, his body fully spent He might give up his quest If I wreck his ship and he still doesn’t quit Should I take the pirate’s treasure from his chest? His spoils mean nothing, his gold is rusted These things hold no value for this man But if I wreck the siren, calling to be trusted, He will swim where no one can After all, If you take a man’s heart from his breast, Really, truly, what will be left? -Much love. “Eurus…” she said the name on an exhale of breath, feeling like a ghost had entered the room and was now watching her. She had been begrudgingly worried before; no matter how used to danger you are, it’s still a little concerning. But now…

Normally once she figured out who was after her, the process became easier, but not this time. This time, knowing only terrified her. Her sources had informed her about Sherlock’s sister before, obviously. She was not someone to challenge. She had to admit, from what she had heard, Eurus was smarter than her. Smarter than Sherlock. And Irene had learned a long time ago to never challenge someone smarter than yourself. Muscles really didn’t intimidate her; they weren’t the biggest sign that a person was dangerous. The weakest, scrawniest person could burn down the entire world if they knew how. And Eurus, despite being locked up on her own personal island, had managed to make men oceans away tremble with fear. Sherlock told her that her guards’ time in her cell was always carefully monitored because she could essentially brainwash people into doing whatever she wanted.

Sherlock’s head ticked up immediately when Irene muttered the name. He took in the broken tea cup on the floor and the fear on her face as she stared at her phone. From that, it took his mind less than two seconds to realize that Irene was looking at a message from his sister. Or rather, a threat.

“Show me the phone.” His voice was modulated and in control. It was a tone that says ‘don’t argue’. Usually, his demanding anything of her would not end pleasantly for him. But Irene was in a state where all she could do was lift her arm and hold the phone out for him to take as she thought about the message, replaying it in her head.

He took the device from her, keeping the hand he took it from in his larger one, squeezing her fingers. He may not be good at vocalizing feelings, but he can express himself very well physically.

He quickly read over the text and the old lyrics that Mycroft used to sing to him, out of key, floated into his head, I that am lost, oh who will find me? Deep down below the old beach tree…

Sherlock’s mind jumped back to the first time he had learned what terror felt like. A picture of Redbeard flashed through his mind, first the imaginary dog, then the little boy he had lost. For a minute, he was a curly-headed child in the long grass, running to save his best friend. He remembered how the cold wind whipped his nose until it was red, how the air smelled faintly of honeysuckles from his mother’s garden. But all he could taste was the bitter tang of dread as saliva gathered in his mouth. That was when he learned that fear had a taste. He remembered looking down into the well and seeing the last light of the day reflecting against the top of the water. His friend’s triton hat floated to the surface, soggy and tired. He picked it up and sat by that well, staring at the sun going down.

Mycroft had found him still sitting there the next day, barefoot and shivering, and refusing to speak. His eyes were empty. He supposed that was why Mycroft decided to make him forget the event. And her. He had to fill his eyes again; he couldn’t grow up knowing what had happened. Mycroft knew that his little brother wouldn’t have been able to live with it.

Never again. She will not destroy someone I love again.

He came back from his reverie and felt something squeezing his heart, “Irene…” The way he said her name, with such sincerity, broke through her shock and caused her to meet his gaze, “Sherlock?”

His voice was steel as he vowed to her, and himself. “She will not take you from me.”

[thebeautyofdisorder]

Dracula/Zoe- 68!

68. You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in.

Ooh, excellent choice for Drac. Loads of pun opportunities. Ha, okay. I tried to keep this short as possible, but my intentions were thwarted by them wanting to be snarky bitches to each other for too long, alas. Bonus for you, extra time and effort for me. Enjoy ;) Backstory equivalent to my fic, if that’s easiest

Words Count: 1145

Rating: I’m going to say right on the EDGE of an M rating

Prompt list can be found HERE

Turning the knob to end the steady stream of hot water pouring into her bathtub, Zoe was prepared to shed her dressing gown up until she heard a suspicious rustling, followed by the sound of footsteps from elsewhere in her flat. It was times like this she really wished she had a cat to blame these things on - confronting a burglar was not high on the list of things she felt like doing tonight. Though frankly, if all they were doing was shuffling through her pantry, she was tempted to let them.

Heaving a sigh, she tightened the knot around her waist and moved quietly down the hallway, only to quickly see the tall and distinctive form of a 500 year old war lord standing in the middle of her kitchen with a look of baffled confusion on his face.

“You know, just because you can enter a home without invitation doesn’t mean you should,” the doctor scoffed wryly, her stance losing some of its tension.

“What in screaming hell are ‘potato flakes’ and why do you own them?”

“Because I’m a shite cook,” she defended flatly, and approached him just to grab the box he was studying with growing concern out of his hand, and toss it back onto the counter. It was only then did Dracula give her a true once over, dark eyes lingering over the thin material of her robe, causing her to cross her arms over her chest.

“Now what are you doing here? It’s late, I was about to have a bath.”

“Lucky me,” he self-congratulated, and was quickly met with a glare. Finally he rose his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I was bored.”

“Aren’t there other people you can harass, I just finally got home.”

“The city has been remarkably dead, and not in the fun way, so no not really.”

Suddenly the Count stepped closer, and Zoe forced herself to stand steady and look up at him as opposed to scurrying back, as she was almost certain he wanted her to. If he was looking for someone to frighten, he had really come to the wrong place. There was a foreign intensity in his gaze, though, that wasn’t of the bloodthirsty sort she was used to, and it made her fight not to squirm in the face of it.

“You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in,” he remarked with a growing smirk.

Her eyes rolled. “We both know you’re not going to try to feed from me, it never exactly works out in your favor. If you’re hungry-”

“I’m not,” he corrected quickly, before she could even finish.

Her mouth shut as quickly as it had opened, subtle realization dawning on her features, followed by a stifled laugh.

“Is that really your line right now?”

He lifted an innocent brow. “Is that a refusal?”

“I...wasn’t aware the 15th century was so ‘nontraditional’,” she couldn’t help but comment, curiously.

“Oh it wasn’t.”

It was her turn to lift a brow. “So this is an experiment. I see. Well, in that case, don’t let me keep you from finding another willing participant.”

He glanced upright at the ceiling, as though in consideration tracing his lips with his fingers in a rudely distracting gesture of thoughtfulness.

“Hm. No, see I’m not sure anyone else would be as forthright as you are.”

“Hm, no I see your problem. I would take great joy in telling you that you’re terrible at anything,” she agreed, mostly just for the sake of mockery.

“Knowledge of the scientific method would of course be ideal,” he added, advancing on her further, and she finally felt the need to take half a step back, only to feel the kitchen counter pressing into her backside.

“Seems a bit much, I think,” she corrected flatly, though hadn’t exactly made a move to leave either. Whether it was morbid curiosity or a three year dry spell holding her in place, she couldn’t be sure. Bizarre amusement?

“Perhaps, but ‘a bit much’ is sort of my area.”

“I deeply regret introducing you to the internet,” she sighed, finally breaking eye contact with him just to roll her eyes skyward.

“You still haven’t said no,” Dracula observed keenly, gently cupping her chin and urging her gaze back to him, breaching physical contact with surprising subtlety.

“Must be the razor sharp fangs and the sedative saliva,” she made a point of sarcastically emphasizing, doing her best to ignore his fingers as they trailed down her throat slowly.

“Oh that only happens when I want it to, Zoe.” He paused as she rose her brows in disbelief. “Okay, and when there’s an excess of human blood. Irrelevant. You’re practically undead, you’ll survive. I can’t say the same for anyone else-”

“Fucking hell, at least it’d stop you from talking,” she snapped, though before she could move to regret her consent, the Count’s mouth had already crashed against hers, and she found herself sitting atop the counter that had previously been at her back, so quickly she almost felt dizzy.

Her nails dug into his shoulders for support on her new perch, though they worked beneath the strain with utter indifference, shifting under her grip as his hands ran up her thighs under the quickly separating fabric of her dressing gown, urging them apart so he could stand between them, pulling her forward against his still be-suited form. His tongue was, much to her annoyance, already doing some rather impressive things as it invaded her mouth and curled against her own. She pulled back, though, just as one of his hands cupped her centre, with a bite of his lip. The soft growl that erupted from him in response was almost hilarious.

“Foreplay is cheating, if you’re running a proper assessment,” she corrected with a breathy attempt at sounding stern, a tone borne of academia and apparently hitting its mark regardless of her debauched appearance.

He looked for a moment like he would protest, but it faded into a strange sort of obedience just as quickly, his only move of defiance coming as he stroked his hand down the length of her exposed sternum and sliced the tie of her dressing gown with his thumb nail, splitting it in two and getting it out of his way entirely.  

“As you were, Dr. Helsing,” he agreed roughly, and she watched him sink onto his knees before her in what was probably the most fascinating sight she’d ever beheld.

“I’m banking on this being a disappointment,” she challenged stubbornly, even as she felt him approach with baited breath, unable to resist a last jab even as she felt his lips brush against her mound with mocking lightness.

“Place your bets wisely,” were the finally words she had to hear from him for quite a long while.

--------

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I’m sure there’s more of you, but spread it around, my dears, if you like. Requests still open, time constraints apply, for various fandoms. Ta.

[deliciouslypoetic-demo-blog]

johnlock, mystrade, adlock, and the rest

~*~~my reflections on fan fictions~~*~

As my finals are just around the corner, I do two things that prevent me from studying: 1. freaking out, 2. looking through my old stuff like... fan fictions. (all - obviously - in order to procrastinate)

And I was as surprised with what I found as I would be if Barack Obama called and invited me to spend the summer with him and the rest of The Obamas. Although that wouldn't surprise me that much, I think I deserve a call from him with such a proposition.

See the title of this post? Those are only a few of many ships from BBC's "Sherlock", which is probably my most favorite thing on Earth. It is so due to the fact that the writer of this series, and the one who plays Mycroft Holmes, is my absolutely. most. favorite. person. On this and every other planet. His name is Mark Gatiss (#bae). I will write a whole separate post about this beautiful ginger so stay tuned. What I want you to know, about my love towards this English gentleman, is that I want him to adopt me. That or I want him to marry me, in a nutshell.

So I found my fanfics, as you've read few lines above. Most of them from the time when I was about 14-15 (don't ask me how old I'm now). The stories I wrote were mainly about Mystrade (my absolute OTP) or my alter-ego named Josephine and Mycroft Holmes. I was very amazed by the sex knowledge the 15-year-old me had. What's probable is that she knew more positions than I do now...

What is my point? Fanfics have been a part of my life since... Ever? When I was 8 years old, I shipped Lily and Oliver from "Hannah Montana". And no one should be laughing at that because they DID become canon! Later on, my brother bought me a "Harry Potter" book and so new ships rushed into my life. When I was a teenage Queen fangirl, I shipped Deacury (John Deacon & Freddie Mercury) like crazy. And since I've been 14, I've been in love with Mystrade. And Johnlock too. Fan fictions are an amazing genre. Think about it - what harm does a little girl or boy cause when they really want two people to fall in love? And even if they know that it's not really possible, they move it to paper or at least to "headcanons".

In my book, fanfics are a way of expressing yourself and - shock! - your writing. Because, when I was scribbling something about Lily and Oliver in primary school, I was actually developing some skills in writing. And this blog probably wouldn't exist if I never had an opportunity to start with such silly stories like fan fictions.

What I'm trying to say is that many people look down on those who write fan fictions, or even ship a couple. Maybe not here, on Tumblr, but I can tell you an example from my life. I have a friend who finds it... The word she used was "disgusting". I said that I couldn't agree with her because fan fictions are just really fun. They allow people to create.

And I support anything that stands from creating. Because, if we become restricted to what is shown in an actual movie or a book, what are we left with? I'm not talking about ships only now, but we all have had some thoughts of a character's background or ideas of their childhood - if it's never said directly. A message to all people who despise those who write about their favorite characters - loosen the rubber of your pantaloons a tiny bit.One thing that I always say: "People should allow other people to do the heck those people want to do!" This saying of mine can go with many situations but in terms of something as silly as fanfics, I have no doubt that I am totally right.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Sending love and hopefully some light.

Hugs. Big hugs. None of this is your fault.

We wanted to be positive. I’m very confused, yes, but I’m not blaming anyone (apart Mofftiss and the people involved). I laughed so much tonight and these past weeks. I’d be very disappointed if I didn’t meet this fandom and their meta and all these exchanges.

This fandom is brilliant. If they f****ed up it’s not the fandom’s fault.

I’m not talking about Johnlock. I’m talking about what was shown: setting details that if void of meaning can only be read as errors. Dialogues and scenes that barely made any sense at all, and that people worked hard to find a reason behind. The very much uncalled for sister reveal…

I actually feel like I watched three fan-made episodes. They started with a “fanfiction” based on Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes, and ended with a fanfiction of their own creation. They even worked hard to make us all happy: we wanted more Moriarty? Done. Sherolly? Done. Adlock? Done. Mystrade? Done. Johnlock? Done. Puzzles? Done. Clues all over the place? Done. Mindpalace? Done. Mary is good? Done. Parentlock? Done. And so on.

After TST I was hugely disappointed. Then I read all the meta and I found interest again. After TLD I was back on the Sherlock train, though still with many questions. And now after TFP I can say TST was what it was.

They thought everything was very clever and intriguing, which could  have been and wrongly was, but in the end it lacked sense. THEY decided to leave it as something that could have been but isn’t. In a way this season is a great homage to the many errors and apparent nonsense in the canon, but unless somebody officially states it, it was just poorly done.

I wasn’t and still am not in the fandom because of Johnlock, so things might be less hard for me, but this is not the end. They gave Sherlock Holmes a second life. New generations are now familiar with him. Love him. Will write more about him. Maybe will even make more film or television. And I say it is the BBC series and not other movies or similar works because it really was brilliant. They proved everyone wrong. It could be set in another time. Their adaptation proved it works. It works so much that the moment they did choose to move too far away from the original material… it fell apart.

Finally, about Johnlock. I’m not sure it was all queerbaiting. In a way they admitted to it. Two bachelors living together raising a child forever and ever. Just the two of us (plus one) against the rest of the world. Yes, it’s pretty much what they had at the beginning plus (unnecessary) baby (unless again, tiny meta, it is to better show they are a queer family and not just two best bros living together). They didn’t go full on Johnlock and kept it where it was since episode 1 season 1, so yeah, what’s the point of it all… I can totally understand the anger of the johnlockers.

I first searched infos on this pair because of the show. I really had no idea, but after watching a few episodes I thought something was fishy between the two of them. But probably what I read somewhere here on tumblr is more accurate “queerwaiting”. How long, who knows. This wasn’t it. Season 5? The work of some future author? I’m pretty sure canon Johnlock wouldn’t feel off as the whole sister thing. Johnlock is canon. They know. People reading the books know. It’s not simply bromance. They love and care for each other more than for anyone else. Mary… not really. Things started to fell apart since Mary. Pity. I love Amanda, but Mary was given an importance she didn’t have.

Right. Thank you for reading this looong message. I’m just trying to rationalize and help find a light. Also, our community is way more represented today in media than it was even just 10 years ago. Canon Johnlock would have been groundbreaking and history-making but I’m sure we’ll have someone else doing it. And someone else is surely writing stories with queer characters as main characters. See Yuri on Ice as one of the first small steps.

I can’t see where the road ends, but people are walking on it. It’s crowded!

(submitted by Laila)

Laila, I am so sorry, this REALLY got lost in my jumble of asks. I saw it come in after TFP aired just before I shut off submissions, and then I kind of went into my own grieving process, hah.

Thank you for your lovely story, and in hindsight I’m thinking I should have shared it with everyone after TFP aired. I will admit to hoarding it for myself to feel a bit better about S4, ‘cause I’m a selfish git!

I hope you are doing well since you sent me this, Lovely <3