#John keeps going on and on with his ramblings until Sherlock has to ask him to shut up - this has happened on more than one occasion lol

[gregorovitch-adler]

So, now! The Solitary Cyclist is here. And quite lovely as usual.

I finally got down to listening to Sherlock&co.

1.) I really like this new take on he Holmes adaptation. It's different and intersting. Sounds fresh.

2.) Their voices are distinct, but personality wise, Sherlock is quite similar to BBC Sherlock's Sherlock. But not John.

3.) John is so hilariously awkward and I get so much second hand embarrassment listening to him. 🤭 But I quite like this new way of characterising him. He is authoritative when he truly needs to be. But the rest of the time, the intro and outro of his podcast are record so pathetically lmfao. Love this John Watson.

4.) Mariana from Hudson's instead of just Mrs Hudson? I thought her character was going to be based on Mary Morstan from ACD canon (because of her name), but not really. She's a completely different character altogether. And Sherlock keeps calling her Mrs Hudson and she keeps correcting him saying it's Mariana from Hudson's. XD I can't say much on her character because I'm just on The Illustrious Client right now but she sounds likeable.

5.) I love how they chose this story (The Illustrious Client) as their first one in the series of podcasts. I really liked that one in ACD canon too. The plot was quite intriguing and I like this idea a lot.

6.) John always calls him Sherlock but Sherlock calls him Watson sometimes. Many a time, actually. What's that about?

I'll probably make more posts as I keep listening to more. That's all for now.

@a-victorian-girl , @jamielovesjam

[fallenangellinwonderland]

so, I've been listening to maroon by Taylor swift which brings this scenario to my head. I'm a teacher, my reader is always related to that 😅

Mycroft is in charge of a public school because he is part of the government and public schools are founded by the British government. He has to make a social event for the teachers, perhaps, a charity ball or something!. The reader works in that school, therefore she is in this event. And Sherlock is there too because he has a murder suspect and he wants to find who it is. He is observing as always searching the room for the murderer as he sips his wine and accidentally splashes the wine into the reader and she blushes because she feels so stupid in front of this handsome man and he is so mesmerized by her, he apologizes and they start a small conversation, then people start dancing, and Sherlock being himself asks the reader to dance with him, yes using her to get close to people to look for the suspect as they dance around. They keep drinking and somehow they end up on the floor, laughing in a room, just the two of them with her feet in his lap like they were the closest friends. There are some flowers in a vase, sherlock being such a show off smart starts talking about the flower language and what red roses mean deducing why Mycroft would have them, they are obviously drunk. Sherlock gives her the flower as she is leaving the party and next day when clarity comes back to her mind with the ghost of a hangover feeling she realizes it wasn't a Rose, it was a carnation and she smiles thinking about this man, tho she can't remember him completely. She has flashes of her cheeks turning red, his blue eyes, his laugh, dancing with no shoes, the wine, and the mark on her collar bone, his lips...it was maroon. Sherlock waking up in John's bed because he kept rambling about the red roses and the girl he saw and how she could be connected with the murderer all drunk, John being such a good friend he just listens to him until they fall asleep. He can't remember much next day either, maybe just the roses and the wine.

Dark red conveys feelings of deep love and affection

Pink carnation flower meaning never forgetting someone.

pink roses represent femininity and elegance, 

Red roses  love and passion

If someone wants to turn this into a blurb go ahead. This is just a messy scene in my head. I can't even think straight because I'm actually taking a course 😅 but i had to write it down.

Also @asherloki encoraged me to write it, thank you :). Sometimes i feel dumb for typing these scenarios.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

Sherlock x Reader: Sentiment

    Author’s Note(s):  I struggle publishing Sherlock fics because as a Christian I personally disagree with his statements about God on the show and find it insulting actually. However, I otherwise enjoy the show and enjoy writing fics with his character.  Enjoy!  I hope you likez!

   “Sentiment?  Me?”  Sherlock scoffed.  “A very amusing notion indeed, but I’m afraid the idea is rather ridiculous, and I have places to be.”  He turned on his heels and began to walk out of the library.

   There was a sigh of annoyance.  “Yes, Sherlock, I am talking about sentiment.”  That statement caused the consulting detective to halt his smug strut altogether.  He lingered at the doorway, hands in his coat pockets, staring straight ahead.  Mycroft lifted a brow at his brother’s reaction, unfolding his hands and rising from his desk.  “I know what she means to you.”

   Sherlock turned his head to shoot a sideways glance over his shoulder.  “Who?”

   Mycroft rolled his eyes.  “Who do you think?”  His voice held the slightest edge to it, showing his impatience.  “I have already seen the signs.  You may have convinced the rest of the world, but you can’t fool me, brother mine.”

   “You’re mistaken,” Sherlock replied, though his voice sounded less sure, less convincing.

   “I don’t believe I am, but that’s beside the point.  The point is you need to stay aware.  Having your friend, John Watson, in the way is dangerous as it is...but to fall in love with __________ leaves you vulnerable in an entirely different way.”

   - 

   You turned your face away from the computer screen to shoot Mycroft a look of disbelief from across the desk.  “Wait, wait.  What is this?”  He paused the video as you continued.  “You said you’d explain why a few of your goons were following me at the market.”

   “They aren’t goons,” Mycroft chided with the raise of his brow.  “They are agents.  And I’m getting to that part.  So please…”  He gave a crisp smile.  “Keep watching.”

   You shut your eyes and exhaled deeply.  “But I’m not sure I should even see this.”  

   It was footage of an apparent conversation between the two brothers that you presumed had happened fairly recently.  The idea of getting a glimpse into Sherlock’s true feelings was uncomfortable, yet intriguing, and also downright terrifying.  Even though part of you hoped for him to feel something for you, the other side of you accepted that it may not be the case.  He was always quite serious about his work, and you were glad to be one of his few friends anyway.

   “I assure you,” Mycroft continued.  “It is rather important that you see this.  It’s a matter of national security.”

   “National security,” you deadpanned.  “Well, I guess you mean business if you’re playing that card.”  You shrugged your shoulders and leaned back in the leather chair.  “Alright then.”

   Mycroft resumed the video, and you reluctantly turned your eyes back to the screen.

   -

   “...The point is you need to stay aware.  Having your friend, John Watson, in the way is dangerous as it is...but to fall in love with ___________ leaves you vulnerable in an entirely different way.”

   “On the contrary, their wisdom and expertise have strengthened my abilities on these cases,” Sherlock countered, regaining his composure.

   “Ah, so you don’t deny that you’ve fallen in love?” the Mycroft on the screen asked, and in the present time you felt your heart skip a beat.

   Sherlock finally turned around to face him in the video, face blank. “Didn’t think I needed to.  You should know better, Mycroft.  Sentiment is not my style- especially not love.”  It was said without hesitation, and you released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

  Mycroft in the video shook his head, exhaling.  “All I’m saying is you must stay alert.  If your enemies realize what she is to you, it could mean danger for __________ and you.”

   “Good afternoon, Mycroft.”  Sherlock spoke his farewell without a pause and walked out of the library.  The screen went dark, and you shook your head.

   -

   “So tell me again what the point of that was?”  You hoped your expression didn’t betray your pain, but with someone like Mycroft on the other side of the desk, you were basically an open book.  “Is this footage your way of showing me he doesn’t care about me and telling me that I need to get out of the way?”

   Mycroft’s brows furrowed.  “I thought it was rather self-explanatory, but perhaps I need to explain.”

   “Explain what?”

   His tone grew sharper, and his gaze seemed to demand that you meet it.  “That Sherlock Holmes is in love with you.”

   Your mouth fell open as you stared back at him.  Several moments passed as you processed this information.  You at first felt elated, then disbelief, and finally you settled for being skeptical.  A chuckle spilled out.  “What makes you say that?  He just said that love isn’t his style.”

   “My brother has the ability to observe.  That ability has helped him to reign in his own emotions and allowed him to put on a mask, so to speak.  However, I can see past the mask if I know what to look for- which of course I do.  It was unmistakable; the slight quirk of his brow, the way he maintained eye contact to try and convince me, and the flash of emotion in his eyes.”

“Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”

   “_____________, you’ve seen my ability up close.  I see things that many do not, and these are the things I see.”  Your gaze fell to rest on the wooden desk in front of you.  You weren’t sure how to respond at first.  “Sherlock is in love with you,” he continued.  “And I gather that you’ve felt similarly toward him for quite some time.  I can assume you have his best interest at heart.”

   You met his eyes again, nodding.  “Of course.”

   “Then you realize why you must be protected.”

   It was like the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together.  You gasped softly in realization.  “That’s what this is about?  Protecting me so I can’t be used by some villain to get to him?”  Your cheeks grew warm.  You knew deep down that he cared about you and John more than he let on to the world around him, but you had no idea he felt this way for you.

   “Indeed.  So, we have reached an understanding, then.”

   You hesitated.  “Not quite.  I don’t know if I like the idea of being followed.  Your agents weren’t exactly subtle the first time.”  He went silent, and you laughed.  “You wanted me to see them.  You wanted us to have this conversation.  Either way, I still don’t like it.”

   “Well,” Mycroft folded his hands on the desk.  “I suppose there’s an alternative.  Less security would be required if you had some more training.”

   “Training,” you echoed.  “To fight?”

   “Yes, among other things.  You’d learn to hone your already-developing observation skills and learn more about criminals and psychological profiles.  You are a strong young woman, and I know you can take care of yourself.  Still, the concern I have for my brother and his friends would be eased.  I have a course prepared for you, much like how we train our agents...should you accept.”

   “That sounds pretty interesting,” you said with a nod.  “I accept.”

   “I’m very glad to hear that, ____________.  Training starts at the beginning of next week.  I will be handling your training myself, actually.”

   “Alright.”  You offered your hand across the desk expectantly, and he smiled again as he shook it, though that smile seemed more genuine.  “Thanks.”

   “I’ll have the car take you home,” he said with a nod.

   - - - - - - - - - - - - 

   You made your way up the stairs, trying to calm your thoughts.  The drive back to the flat had your mind buzzing with questions.  You wondered what it would be like to hone your skills.  Ever since you started working with John and Sherlock, you had looked into self-defense in order to be helpful in a pinch, but the kind of training Mycroft offered would be beyond your usual self-defense class.  However, you still weren’t ready to tell your friends about the situation, especially Sherlock.  They might not approve at first.

   The flat was only lit by a fire in the fireplace when you entered.  It already appeared that John had retired for the evening.  Sherlock was in his chair with a cup of tea in hand, the fire bathing his features in a warm glow and casting shadows in the room.

   “Where were you?” his voice rumbled.

   “Out.”  Vagueness would be seen as suspicious, but you could not get away with lying to him.  You didn’t want to anyway.  His blue eyes reflecting orange light turned to you, and you knew he was scanning you for any clues.

   “Did you remember to stop on the way home and pick up that package?”

   You sighed.  “I’m sorry, I got side-tracked.  I’ll go back out and…”

   “No, no, no,” he said quickly.  “Don’t concern yourself.  It’s late in the evening.”

   “You sure?”

   “Go and rest.  I’m sure Mycroft nearly bored you to sleep with his rambling.”

   You halted.  There was no point in asking how he knew you had spoken with his brother.  He stared at you with clasped hands touching his chin with interest.

   “Yeah... anyway, goodnight,” you muttered, turning to walk away again.

   “___________.”  He said your name so deeply it kept you frozen in place.  The consulting detective rose from his chair and approached until he was in your space.  You were surprised at how close was that you instinctively took a step back only for him to step with you.  “You spoke with Mycroft, and it was something you intended to keep from me.”

   “So?” you breathed.

   His gaze never left yours as he continued.  “You know very well that he is my arch nemesis.  I think I have a right to know what was said.”

   “It doesn’t concern you.”

   His eyes widened ever so slightly.  “Ah, but I think it does, or else you would not be so secretive about it.  The question is; what is it?  You can tell me, or perhaps I’ll just have to find out on my own.”  Sherlock leaned in, and you found yourself unable to think straight for a few seconds before finding your words.

   “Not that it’s any of your business,” you said quickly.  “But I’ve agreed to let Mycroft train me.  And don’t do that.”  You took a step back, placing a hand on his shoulder to gently push him away.  “You can use attraction to your advantage when you’re on cases, but not with me.”

   His brows furrowed.  “What?”

   “I’m not a fool, Sherlock.  I know you know what I feel for you, and I don’t like you getting in my space and using it to get what you want.”

   He took a step back and averted his eyes.  “That was not my intention, I assure you.”

   “Then why were you standing so close?”

   “Because I wanted to,” he said simply.  

   Silence followed his reply.  It lasted for nearly a minute.  He looked at the fire, and you released a quiet sigh.

   “Mycroft is concerned about you.”

   Sherlock scoffed.

   “He is concerned that John and I both make you vulnerable,” you continued.  “But that I make you vulnerable in a different way.  He has assigned agents to protect me, but since I wasn’t crazy about that idea, he gave an alternative.  I am going to hone my mental and physical abilities to better protect myself and you.”

   “Mycroft and I disagree on many things,” Sherlock said.  “But this, I think we agree on this.”

   “You do?”  You had not expected him to.  Sherlock Holmes could come across as quite arrogant at times and did not think he needed to be protected by anyone.

   “I think honing your skills is a good idea,” he nodded.  “To better protect yourself, not me.”

   And there it is.

   “But Sherlock-”

   “However, I’d like to propose an alternative to Mycroft’s alternative.”  He extended his hand, his bright eyes darting up to meet yours.  You took it, and he pulled you closer so that your other hand rested on his chest while his other arm wrapped around you.  “I help you with your training.”

   “Why would you want to do that?”

   He hesitated, lips parting to release words that did not emerge.  His eyes continued to search yours from mere inches away before he found his voice again.  “Because I care about you.  I want you to be safe... not for my sake, but for yours.”

   “A-alright,” you whispered.  You glanced at his lips without thinking and forced yourself to focus again on his eyes.  Sherlock definitely noticed it.

   “Do you want to kiss me?”  The question was spoken so matter-of-factly that you almost didn’t process it.

   “Do you want to kiss me?” you returned.  Despite your position in his arms, admitting you wanted the contact strangely felt too intimate.  Deep down you were afraid he’d pull away and go back to be the cold, distant Sherlock he was when you met him.

   “I believe I asked first.”  He chuckled, and you found yourself laughing.  “But I will say that, yes, I do want to.”

   “Then what are you waiting for?”

   “I-”

   “Oh, hey _________, hey Sher-” John’s voice greeted casually as he walked past only to be cut off as he took a few steps back in surprise.  “Oh, am I interrupting?”

   You pulled away from Sherlock in embarrassment. “No, we were just…”

   “It was an experiment,” he said quickly.

   “Right, an experiment.”  You laughed nervously.  “Anyway, the experiment was a success.  Goodnight to both of you gentlemen.”  You stole one last bashful look at the curly-haired detective before heading for the stairwell.  On your way up, you heard John’s voice talking to Sherlock in a hushed tone.

   “Were the two of you just….about to kiss?”

   “What’s it to you?”

   “It’s just,” John chuckled.  “I didn’t think you were into...that sort of...thing.  Romance, I mean.”

   “Goodnight, John.”

   “But-”

   “Goodnight.”

   That night you laid in bed wide awake.  Your heart kept fluttering as if you were in Sherlock’s arms again.  As if his eyes were still gazing into yours.  As if his voice was still speaking to you so deeply.  What would tomorrow bring?  What was next?

   You weren’t sure.  One thing you did know for certain was that training would be interesting.

[me-myself-and-my-fos]

Promise Rings

Pairing: Mycroft Holmes x Nicole Blake

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Nicole has a surprise for Mycroft

A/N: Two Mycroft fics in one day??? I had to write this, I love the idea so much. Once again a big thank you to @thatghoulboi for helping me with the idea!

Climbing up the steps of 221B, Nicole held the small Tupperware container of oatmeal raisin cookies tightly in her hands. It was customary at this point that every time she arrived at the flat she would bring some type of baked good. John enjoyed it, he actually had something to eat because of that. The fridge only ever seemed to be in use for Sherlock’s experiments. Speaking of the detective…

“Hey boys,” Nicole greeted when she reached their flat. Before John could greet her, she handed him the container of cookies.

His eyes lit up a little. “Ooh, biscuits. Thank you, Nicole,” he told her as he took them into the kitchen.

She shook her head and laughed at his reaction before looking at Sherlock who was on his laptop. “I need a favor from you. So I–”

“You’re going to propose to Mycroft,” Sherlock practically announced.

Her face grew bright red as her hand reached into her coat pocket. “What? No! I’m not proposing.” She gripped the ring box in her pocket.

“Good, neither of you are ready for it anyway,” Sherlock told her.

���Excuse me?” Nicole snapped. She shook her head. “I’m going to forget you said that.” Pulling out the ring box, she stepped over to the desk and opened it. Inside were two different sized gold rings, one intended for her and the other for Mycroft. “I’m not proposing, I’m–”

“Are those rings?” John asked, walking out of the kitchen with a cookie in each hand.

“Yes,” Nicole huffed in frustration, eyes trained on Sherlock. “These are promise rings. I need to hide these in your flat.”

“Why here?” Sherlock asked, finally looking over. He silently accepted the cookie offered by John.

“Because Mycroft knows me too well and he’ll know if I’ve hidden something in the house. It’ll ruin the surprise! I know he won’t look for it but what if he finds them like he did his birthday gift?” Nicole explained.

“Hiding it under the bed was dreadfully obvious though. It’s an easy to find hiding spot, so simple even Mycroft could find it. Which he did.” Sherlock took a bite of the cookie.

Nicole glared at him before closing the ring box. “I’m not asking you to keep them forever. Just until I can figure out the perfect way to give them to him. Please, guys?”

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem,” John told her. He held out his hand and she placed the ring box in his palm. “I can hide them after you leave so you don’t have to worry about knowing where they are.”

“I’d appreciate that so much!” Nicole grinned, reaching up to pat his cheek. “Thanks John!”

“What do the engravings say?” Sherlock asked her, attention back on his computer.

“It’s–it’s just our initials.” She replied. She hated when he deduced stuff in front of her. She’d never get used to it.

Sherlock hummed at the answer. “Figures. You’re sentimental like that.” He popped the last bite of the cookie in his mouth.

Nicole rolled her eyes. “Just please don’t tell Mycroft about the rings.” She headed for the stairs before calling over her shoulder. “Oh, and next time I’ll bring a variety of cookies!”

“Oh, yes please,” John smiled as she disappeared down the stairs.

It was a month before Nicole knew how she wanted to surprise Mycroft. In that time it was obvious her mind was preoccupied, that she was stressed over something. Mycroft wasn’t sure what, and any time he asked her about the strange behavior she’d brush it off, saying she was just trying to meet her deadline. That wasn’t a complete lie, she did have a deadline coming up. But it wasn’t the cause of her stress.

It was late at night, well past midnight, when Nicole realized what she was going to do to surprise him. Mycroft had been asleep in bed beside her, and carefully without waking him, she pulled her phone from the drawer of her bedside table and unlocked it. She immediately texted Sherlock, letting him know that she was stopping by the flat to pick up the rings as soon as Mycroft left for work in the morning. She also informed Sherlock that she might need his help keeping Mycroft occupied. Nicole didn’t wait for a response as she set the phone back in the drawer and closed it before settling down to go to sleep.

When the morning came, the routine went as usual. Well, almost.

Mycroft had been surprised when Nicole jumped into the shower along with him, typically she didn’t shower until mid-day if she had nowhere to go, or in the afternoon after dinner. A morning shower was odd. But she claimed to want to get it out of the way and that she was going to the store after he left for work—ingredients for a new dish she wanted to try out.

After the shower was breakfast. Now that went by normally. When breakfast was finished and it was nearing 7am, Nicole gave Mycroft a kiss goodbye and watched him leave for work. She waited 10 minutes before calling a taxi and heading to Bakerstreet.

Arriving at 221B, Nicole asked John for the ring box. He happily left to grab it from his bedroom while Nicole focused her attention on Sherlock.

“I’m going to need your help,” she explained, sitting in John’s chair across from Sherlock. “I need you to keep Mycroft busy this afternoon.”

“For how long?” Sherlock asked.

“Until I’m ready with the surprise. I’ll text you and let you know. Just do anything to keep him from coming home.” She said as John walked back into the room. He handed her the ring box as she stood, and Nicole placed it in her pocket. Thanking John, she looked back at Sherlock. “For once, I’m asking you to be his annoying little brother who knows how to inconvenience him.”

A smirk came over Sherlock when she said that. “Oh this will be fun.”

After getting everything she needed at the store, Nicole came home and hid the ring box in a kitchen drawer for safe keeping. Then her plan began.

First was the cake. It was just a plain yellow cake, but icing it was going to take longer than she wanted so she started with the cake. By the time the cake was finished, it was close to 10am. She set it on the counter island to cool before looking up the recipe she had selected for dinner. She studied it over lunch, taking in every last detail so it would be perfect. When she finished lunch, she took the icing and iced the cake. It was simple, chocolate icing between the 3 layers and vanilla icing on top. It took a while, but once the cake was fully iced Nicole put it in the fridge. When she noticed the time was just past 5pm, she texted Sherlock to start distracting Mycroft. She wasn’t sure how well it would work, but she knew Sherlock wouldn’t leave his brother alone so easily.

Making dinner was the difficult part in Nicole’s opinion. It seemed simple on paper but she was nervous about messing it up. It was shrimp pasta with sun-dried tomatoes and a cream sauce. Hardly simple in practice, but she persevered through it. Her hair had been tied back in a short ponytail and she practically danced through the kitchen grabbing ingredients or utensils needed. When she knew she could be ready before Mycroft would get home, she texted Sherlock and let him know his job was over. That was a little after 6pm.

Rushing upstairs to get changed, Nicole wondered how badly Sherlock annoyed Mycroft. She hoped he wasn’t in too bad of a mood. Once changed into the green dress she wore on their first date, the dress she knew Mycroft loved to see her wear, she rushed back down to the kitchen. She plated the meals, even setting out a basket of bread rolls she had made the day prior. She poured two glasses of water for them both, and Nicole knew where Mycroft kept the bottle of wine for special occasions. She didn’t drink, but she got out a wine glass and poured him some. Once the table was set, she rushed to the hallway and waited near the front door for Mycroft to come home.

She didn’t have to wait too long, however, as within a few minutes she heard the door unlock and watched silently as he entered the house.

“I’m sorry for being late, dear. I had to deal with my brother—he took my bloody phone,” Mycroft rambled as he pulled off his coat and set down his umbrella. When he finally looked at her, he was surprised to see her dressed up.

She smiled softly at him. “I hope Sherlock didn’t bother you too much. I just needed him to distract you until I was ready.”

Mycroft furrowed his brows as she walked towards him. “Ready for what?”

Nicole stopped in front of him and took his hand in hers, leading him to the dining room. Teasingly she replied, “I thought you knew everything, darling. You haven’t deduced it yet?”

He hummed in thought. “You have news.”

She lifted his hand up and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “That comes after dinner.”

“Later then,” he nodded.

Leading him to the dining room, Mycroft was surprised and delighted to see the dinner on the table. She pressed another kiss to his hand before they took their seats. Dinner went by slowly, but neither minded. It was nice to be in each other’s presence, discussing how their days went. A comforting silence fell over the couple, and when the meals were finished Nicole could feel the knot in her stomach. She took the empty plates to the kitchen, pushing Mycroft gently back into his seat when he insisted on helping.

“I have something for you,” she told him, her voice a little shaky with nerves.

He sat patiently and waited for her to come back. Nicole put the plates in the sink before getting the ring box from the drawer and heading back to the dining room. She took her seat once again and slowly set the ring box down on the table. Carefully she opened it to reveal the rings.

Nervously she cleared her throat. “I wanted something to show our commitment to each other.” She watched Mycroft’s face for a reaction, her leg anxiously bouncing under the table.

He raised a brow. “Promise rings?”

The indifference in his voice made her even more nervous. She jumped into a rambling explanation behind her decision.

“I thought they would be nice to have since we’re sort of in that in-between stage of the relationship where we’ve been together for a while and are obviously committed, but not ready for marriage yet. So I just thought they would be a nice way of showing our dedication to the relationship and each other. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, or if you think it’s silly we can forget the whole thing entirely.”

He took her hand gently and smiled softly. “Nicole, this is a lovely, thoughtful gesture, and I will gladly wear it.”

She squeezed his hand for a moment before pulling away to take out the ring intended for him. “Which hand do you want it on? Do you want me to put it on you or is that too sappy?”

Mycroft shook his head and held out his left hand for her. She gently slipped the ring onto his ring finger before giving him her left hand and allowing him to do the same. Once the ring was on, he squeezed her hand gently. Nicole squeezed back, a loving grin on her face.

“I love you, Mycroft.”

He pulled her in gently and kissed her. “I love you too.”

After a moment of sitting there, something dawned on her. “What if people mistake these for wedding rings?” She asked.

“Then let them,” he replied.

Nicole gave him a shy smile and kissed him softly. “Do you want some dessert?”

Mycroft hummed against her lips. “I wouldn’t mind some.”

“I’ll go get a slice of cake then, darling,” she told him as she stood. Pressing a kiss to his temple, she left to get a slice of cake for them to share.

[cutie1365]

Hello Detective Chapter 70

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: How have I written 70 parts of this???? Please keep the love coming, it helps me write. Literally even just a comment saying hi helps. Shout out to @dancingwithlamas this ones for you doll :)

Any and all feedback is appreciated and encouraged!

Masterlist in bio, taglist in reblog.

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

“Mr. Magnussen, please state your full name for the record.” Lady Smallwood said, beginning the meeting, if you could call it that. Interrogation was more like it, not that anyone would actually stand up to him. It was a formality.

You looked around the room at the council and up to the translators in the gallery. Lady Smallwood sat on your right, you were meant to oversee the enquiry together. Naturally as she was your senior, she took charge. When it came to Magnussen, you knew when to keep your mouth shut.

“Charles Augustus Magnussen.” He answered slowly, his eyes fixated on you as you broke and looked away. You kept your focus onto the stack of papers in front of you.

“Mr. Magnussen, how would you describe your influence over the Prime Minister?” Lady Smallwood, asked, jumping right in, not holding back.

“The British Prime Minister?” Magnussen asked, making you want to roll your eyes. Of course you were going to have to be more specific, he’s probably got every Prime Minister in the world in his pocket.

“Any of the British Prime Ministers you have known.” Smallwood expanded upon her question. That must be a lengthy list, he’s been in this business for a while.

“I’ve never had the slightest influence over any of them. Why would I?” Magnussen played dumb. Lady Smallwood turned to you with an exasperated look, she wasn’t going to let this go.

“Mr. Magnussen, I notice you’ve had seven meetings at Downing Street this year. Why?” You ask, keeping your tone as kind and impartial as possible. God forbid you come off threatening to the man who’s blackmailing you.

“Because I was invited.” He answered simply, it’s not like he was going to come out and say the true reason he was there or what he had on the PM.

“Can you recall the subjects under discussion?” Lady Smallwood picked up where you left off.

“Not without being more indiscreet than I believe is appropriate.” He smiled with those dead lifeless eyes.

“Do you think it right that a newspaper proprietor, a private individual and, in fact, a foreign national should have such regular access to our Prime Minister?” John Garvie, the MP of Rockwell South asked, his tone hostile. You turned to him with a raised brow, he was stepping out of line, and by his definition, you were also a foreign national. He needed to be careful, he didn’t know who he was dealing with.

Magnussen lifted his glasses from the table and slipped them on. You knew he wouldn’t take kindly to that comment.

“I don’t think it’s wrong that a private individual should accept an invitation. However, you have my sincere apologies for being foreign.” He almost smirked, you shook your head at his remark, what a cheeky bastard. You had to hand it to him, however evil, the fucker was good at what he does.

“That’s not what I meant. That is not in any way...” Garvie tried to cover, looking to you and Smallwood for help. You shook your head to silence him, the damage was already done and now he would have to live with the consequences.

“Mr. Magnussen, can you recall an occasion when your remarks could have influenced government policy?” Lady Smallwood asked, “Or the Prime Minister’s thinking in any way?”

“No,” He answered with certainty, spilling his glasses off to clean them.

“Are you sure?” Lady Smallwood pressed, still not convinced.

“I have an excellent memory.” Magnussen almost smirked, putting his glasses back on. You heard Smallwood sigh beside you, knowing this was getting nowhere.

“Madam Director-General do you have anything to add?” Lady Smallwood asked you, you turned and made eye contact with Magnussen, remembering his words from earlier as he passed you in the parlor.

“Those who speak of what they know find too late that silence is wise.” He quoted ominously and you rolled your eyes.

“Is that a threat Mr. Magnussen?” You asked, unamused.

“Simply a reminder.” He smirked, walking past you, brushing his hand under your chin to lift your head until your eyes met. You pulled away from his touch, wondering how much trouble you’d get into if your hand just accidentally found its way into a fist and completely on accident, rammed into his face.

“No, I do not.” You shook your head, and the meeting adjourned.

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

You came home in a sour mood, dealing with Magnussen had that effect on everyone. Sherlock could tell something was wrong when you walked in the door. Your head was slumped, you were quiet and didn’t say anything as you slipped off your coat and hung it on the rack.

“Bad day?” Sherlock asked, looking up from his laptop as he sat in his chair.

“You could say that.” You huffed, that was an understatement. You turned back to Sherlock as he tilted his head at you.

“What happened?” He asked, curiously.

You simply shook your head. You couldn’t just say that the man that was blackmailing you was under investigation for influencing government officials and was going to walk away scott free with your help. Nope, that wouldn’t go over well.

He placed his laptop onto the ground and motioned for you to come to him with his fingers. You slipped off your heels and sauntered over to him. You sat on the arm of his chair, draping your legs over his lap. He rubbed his hand up your arm comfortingly, before leaving in to kiss you. He knew not to press any further when it came to your work. There were some things you couldn’t tell him, he understood that. You smiled after he kissed you, almost instantly forgetting about your horrible day.

“Have you found a case yet?” You asked as he slipped his arm around your back to hold you in place. You knew he's been desperate for one.

“Nothing substantial,” He shook his head with a frown, you stroked his cheek with a sad smile.

“Something will come up soon, it has to,” You tried to reassure him.

“Come on, how about I make us some dinner.” You hopped up off his lap and started to make your way towards the kitchen.

“Marriage has made you domestic,” He chuckled, getting up from his chair. You stopped and turned around, feigning offense.

“For that comment, you’re making dinner,” You pointed at him with a smirk, he raised his hands in defeat, laughing.

For once the kitchen didn’t look like a complete disaster. You grabbed a few things from the fridge and helped Sherlock prep dinner. The two of you moved like a well oiled machine, communicating without words. Sherlock playfully splashed you with water from the sink as you laughed and planned your counter attack.

You knew things were too good to be true. You knew the universe wouldn’t let the two of you be happy for too long.

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

A week later Sherlock walked into the flat as you were curled up in his chair with a book on a rare day off. You nearly hadn’t heard him come in, he took the stairs so slowly. You smiled and greeted him once he’d entered through the door, his silence clued you in that something was wrong.

“Y/N...” Sherlock said, his tone was serious.

“What is it?” You asked, closing your book. Clearly something was up, you could tell that he was struggling with his words, and that worried you.

“I have a case.” He said carefully, and you chuckled in relief.

“That’s it?” You smiled, shaking your head, “You had me worried for a second there.”

But his demeanor hadn’t changed, there was more.

“It’s a very delicate case, one that will require a lot from me... from us.” He said vaguely. He was trying to protect you, he didn’t want you to get mixed up in this and get hurt.

“From us?” You asked, not understanding, did he need your help?

“I can’t bring you into this case. It’s too dangerous, and I can’t lose you. You know that, I can’t live without you.” He made his way towards you.

“You’re scaring me Sherlock.” You stood from the chair, now face to face with him.

“We have to make people believe we’ve broken up.” He said quickly, and your jaw dropped. Of all the things you thought he would say, that was not on the list.

“What?” You asked, eyes wide.

“For the case, I have to appear to be single. I’ll have to appear to hit rock bottom, and I can’t get you wrapped up in this.” He tried to explain best he could without giving away too many details. You wondered what exactly ‘rock bottom’ meant, because for him it always came back to one 7% solution.

“Ok,” You said hesitantly, after taking a moment to think.

“There’s one more thing... I may have to pretend to date someone else. I’m not sure what way this will go yet, I’ve determined 43 possible outcomes and I just, I need you to know this before I start working on the case.” He rambled, he was nervous. Though anyone would be if they had to tell their wife that they essentially were taking a break.

“This case is important, I gather.” You assumed, clearly he wouldn’t be going through all of this if it wasn’t.

“Extremely.” He said dryly. There was no hint of joking in his voice.

“You’re not going to get yourself killed are you?” You asked with the raise of your brow. If it was that dangerous maybe you'd be more helpful by his side, after all the resources at your disposal are vast.

“That would be unfortunate, but it’s not my intention.” He retorted.

“Let's keep it that way.” You ordered, you were not ready to become a widow.

“So you’re ok with this?” He furrowed his brows, thinking you were going to put up more of a fight.

“I trust you with my life. I know you wouldn’t be doing this unless it was absolutely necessary. And the fact that you’re including me in your deceptions and warning me is very thoughtful and shows a lot of personal growth.” You smiled, proudly. The Sherlock you knew two years ago wouldn’t have even been giving you this warning, he would have just dumped you to protect you.

“You’re starting to sound like a therapist.” He scoffed playfully.

“I have one question,” You said in a serious tone, earning a nod from him, “How...committed will you have to be to this fake relationship?”

“I may have to kiss her to be convincing, but I won’t allow it to go any further than that, if that’s what you’re asking.” He nodded, of course he didn’t want to be doing this, but at this point all his calculations pointed to this being the best option.

You nodded and slowly unclasped the chain around your neck. You slipped your wedding and engagement rings off your finger and slipped them onto the chain, before refastening it around your neck and tucking it into your shirt.

“I know I’m asking a lot of you.” Sherlock reached forward and took your hand.

“We’ve been through much more than this. We’ve fought bigger demons. We can make it through this too. What’s your anticipated timeline?” You asked curiously, you could handle being away from your husband for a few weeks, your work was keeping you busy enough to take your mind off of it, but you didn’t think you could handle months.

“A few weeks, I’ll know more in the coming days.” Sherlock nodded, of course he’d like to get this case done as fast as possible, but that didn’t seem likely given the delicate nature and number of moving parts.

“Well I guess it’s a good thing I kept my apartment then.” You smiled, Mrs. Astor would sure love to have you back for a little while.

“That is convenient, yes.” He nodded.

“I do owe Charles dinner, that could be good for your narrative. I can make sure we’re seen. I guess I should pack my things.” You looked around the flat. You weren’t sure how public this break up would have to be, would you have to convince Mycroft, or John? Luckily during your tenure at MI6 you’d learned a thing or two about playing a convincing character. This could be fun, like a little game to distract yourself from the fact that your husband would be entertaining another woman.

“No, wait until tomorrow. Tonight I want to show my wife just how much I love her.” Sherlock smiled, grateful that you were on board with this crazy idea.

“She sounds like a lucky lady.” You smirked.

“She’s about to be.” Sherlock chuckled darkly as he scooped you up into his arms. You squealed with laughter as your feet left the ground and Sherlock’s lips met yours suddenly, as he carried you back to the bedroom.

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

Please comment and reblog so we can keep this story going! I have more coming but yalls support helps so much!

[loki-is-my-god-of-mischief]

One Way To Move In (Sherlock x Female!Reader)

A/N: So it’s been a few years since I wrote anything and I decided to turn my old oneshot My Girlfriend Tells Me Everything into a series so please read that first if you haven’t. I’m not quite happy with how this turned out but I’m going to continue this series anyway so please be kind.

It was 8pm by the time (Y/N) saw their apartment door. After just getting off a twelve-hour shift, all they wanted was to eat the leftover Chinese in the fridge and pass out in bed. Being a doctor was always (Y/N)’s dream but the hours sucked….hard. Seeing the door in front of them, they quickened their pace and hurried inside.

“Look what the cat dragged in” Claire, (Y/N)’s roommate of two years, states. (Y/N) turns towards them on the couch and glares at them, which comes out as more of a grimace due to exhaustion. Claire looks them up and down and proceeds a drawn-out whistle. “Damn, that cat drag you through a hedge or something? You look rough.”

“Wow, thanks. That’s just what I wanted to hear.” (Y/N) snaps before heading to the fridge for the desired Chinese food.

“Well what do you expect, you’ve been out since yester-“ Claire cuts herself off with a gasp. “Oh, you dirty stop out you! You were with Sherlock weren’t you! Omg, when am I going to meet this ‘elusive genius’ of yours?” This draws a laugh out of (Y/N).

“No I wasn’t with Sherlock, I was at work. Which by the way, shouldn’t you be heading off to work now? Go get ready to leave and let me eat my Chinese and pass out for a week in peace please” said Chinese gets stuffed into (Y/N)’s mouth to emphasise her point. Claire just chuckles at the sight whilst heading to her room. She calls over her shoulder, “Yeah, yeah. I’m going. Jeez. Not all of us can crash for a week you know, we’re not all fancy private doctors.”

The following day finds (Y/N) heading to the hospital to meet up with John for lunch, a regular occurrence since he found out about the whole ‘dating his best friend’ thing. She doesn’t even have to enter the hospital as she spots him at the entrance upon her arrival. “Hey John!” Said man looks up from his phone upon hearing his name. “Hey (Y/N). I hope you don’t mind but I’ll have to bail on lunch a bit early. Rosamund is has a bit of a cold and Mrs. Hudson has to leave in an hour. I’m really sorry” John starts to ramble his apology.

“John…John…John!” The shout finally catches his attention, “That’s completely fine, you don’t have to apologise. What kind of person would be upset on you wanting to look after your sick kid” (Y/N) smiles kindly.

“You’re right. Sorry.”

“Stop apologising John.”

“Right. Sorry” they both look at each other at the involuntary apology and giggle. “Shall we?”.

The walk to the café felt relatively short as they spent the time cooing over pictures of Rosamund. They decided to go to the café under 221B Baker Street so that John could be close to Rosamund in case Mrs. Hudson had to leave early. After sitting down with some tea and John buying some cake to share, as Mary would kill him if he broke his diet, the conversation turned to Sherlock.

“So you never did explain why you kept your relationship a secret.” John states giving (Y/N) an expectant look. She sighs.

“Well, you know how Sherlock is. At first I interested him, he said it was because he can’t deduce me. At first he thought it was because I was dangerous as the last time this happened it was with Mary, back when she was lying” at this John look uncomfortable. “But then he started ‘engaging me in intellectual conversation’ as he put it. I realised this was his way of trying to decipher whether I was a threat. When he realised I wasn’t it was also around the time he realised he may ‘like’ me. Of course being the sociopath he is, he had no idea what to do with that and started being rude and distant” at this (Y/N) laughs “You should have seen his face when I called him out on his shit. He looked like I may have hung the moon itself.”

John laughs himself when trying to imagine it as the image he comes up with is ridiculous. “What happened then?”

“What do you think happened? I get dragged into a car on my way home by Mycroft’s assistant” (Y/N) says exasperated. John laughs remembering his first Mycroft kidnapping. “He spent the next two hours interrogating me. When he deemed me as ‘more than a goldfish’ he proceeded to tell me how I should go about Sherlock”. John looks interested and says “What did you do?”.

“I told him where he can shove his advice. If I wanted to be with Sherlock I would do it my way.”

“What happened?”

“Well it turns out Sherlock was listening; he’d stormed straight to Mycroft’s office when he heard I was there. He asked me out for coffee-” John looked shocked, “-I know! He asked me! And as we were on the date he asked we keep it a secret until he makes sure that this is real for him. He was so worried about hurting me as he finds emptions hard to understand”

Before the conversation could go any further, they get interrupted by John’s phone going off. He excuses himself to answer it. When he comes back he starts apologising again. “Sorry, I have to go. That was Mrs. Hudson. I have to go pick up Rosamund. I’m so sorry”

“John, what did I tell you?”

“Stop apologising, sorry.” He says with a smile which makes (Y/N) giggle.

“Go, I should head home anyway. Give her hugs and kisses from me?” John promises he would, they hug and part ways.

After arriving home (Y/N) decides to surprise Claire with a movie night, with her long hours she hasn’t been able to spend time with Claire in weeks. Deciding to make it special, she goes around the apartment collecting all the things necessary to make a pillow fort because you’re never to old for a pillow fort!

By the time the fort was built, Claire was just arriving home. “What’s all this?”

“Surprise! Pillow fort and movie night?” Claire’s face lights up at the suggestion. “Hell yes! Chinese food followed by copious amounts of ice cream?”

(Y/N) laughs, “You read my mind”.

“Ok well let me change out of my work clothes and then you can ord-” she gets cut off by the window shattering. (Y/N) screams whilst turning towards the window. She presses herself to the floor and sees Claire’s hair against the floor behind the couch. She shuffles her way over to help her hide and come up with a plan to leave without getting shot. (Y/N) screams again as she makes it to Claire. Surrounding her head was a puddle of blood, growing by the second and right in the centre of her forehead was a bullet wound. (Y/N) grabs her phone out of her pocket and calls Lestrade.

“Hello?”

“Greg?” Greg hears the tears and uneven breath and immediately fires of questions.

“(Y/N)? Are you ok? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Greg. My friend she…she’s…she’s been shot. Oh my go-” a sob forces it’s way out of (Y/N)’s mouth.

“(Y/N)? Where are you, tell me where you are?”

“I’m at my home”

“I’m on my way, I’ll bring Sherlock and John” and with that the line goes dead.

Much of what happens next goes by in a blur for (Y/N). She pays some attention when Sherlock pulls her into a hug but all she can focus on is the spot her friend lay. Even when the coroners remove the body, she still focuses on that spot. All she can hear is an overwhelming buzzing in her ears. It wasn’t until Greg kneels in her line of sight that she snaps out of it. “Mm, what?” she says in a daze.

“Hey, I said it’s probably best if you don’t stay here. We’re still not sure if you were also a target or not. It’s not safe here.” Greg says gently.

“Obviously Gareth, she’ll be staying with me at 221.” Sherlock cuts in like it was obvious.

“Greg.” (Y/N) says numbly.

“Yes?” Greg answers thinking she was talking to him.

“His name is Greg Sherlock” she continues, almost sounding dead inside.

“Really? That’s what she focuses on?” Anderson says in the background, receiving glares from Sherlock, John and Greg.

“She’s in shock you buffoon!” Greg admonishes.

“Want me to pack your things (Y/N)?” John asks kindly.

“Wait? Pack my things for what?” (Y/N) asks confused, having missed most of what was spoken about in the last ten minutes.

“To move to 221B. It’s not safe here.” States Sherlock, looking more concerned by the minute.

“Well…” (Y/N) attempts some form of smile to break the tension, “…That’s one way to ask me to move in.”

[missinghan]

dandelion ⤖ hwang hyunjin

❖ genre : strangers to lovers!au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 12,2k.

❖ warning : explicit language 

❖ summary : it’s funny how you’ve been second-guessing every single thing in life to the T but the only thing you didn’t just happens to be running after a total stranger named Hwang Hyunjin.

one.

“And that, my friend, is the end of the chapter. See, that wasn’t so hard, you just need to pay more attention to the details.” Minho shuts his textbook closed and grins at you from your laptop screen. 

Your typical Monday starts with online school and ends with Lee Minho since your non-existent brain cells furiously agree to comprehend zero ounce of what your teacher rambled about accounting. Being the sly snake that he is, Minho ‘kindly’ offered you a weekly tutor session with him. Kindly, that is. And you simply cannot see that specific word in his less than appropriate vocabulary when all he did for the past ninety minutes was repeating the same damn things that your teacher did last week. 

You groan rather quietly. “How am I supposed to pay more attention to them when they’re so fucking small ?” And you don’t even have to think twice to see that smug smile appearing on your friend’s face. 

One that pops up whenever he’s clinging onto Han Jisung’s back like the sloth that he is, one that also occurs when he’s mentally prepare himself to clapping back at you with the most obnoxious yet witty comment that’s gonna make you wanna jump through the laptop screen and strangle him until he begs you to stop.

“Well, aren’t you being unreasonable ?” Minho tuts. “In fact, the smallest details are by far the most important.” You can’t help but scowl when he’s talking all calmly in his wisdom glory as if he’s Sherlock Holmes and you’re John Waston, running after him from one place to another as he keeps lecturing you and acting all mysterious with his stupid deerstalker. 

As if he’s asking you to examine a dead body with grand conclusions and spits at you afterwards “Nice one John, you missed every single essential detail that’d give us a lead, again.” A stark contrast compared to when he’s yelling and running around spontaneously. Tsk, so unnecessary. 

You feel a rush of air rising up in your rib cage as you cough harshly into the sleeves of your shirt. “Alright— smartie pants, how about you— go find Han and just make— out on Changbin’s expensive leather couch, yeah ?” You say between coughs, hand reaching for the oxygen tubes that’s carelessly thrown on the side of your bed. 

The boys always come over to Changbin’s place for a movie night every Monday. You believe that they’re planning on seeing the sequel of ‘Jumanji’ to switch it up instead of watching Woojin’s sappy dramas. How fitting. 

Minho pouts. “Come on sour patch, don’t be mad. I didn’t mean to point out how much of a dumbass you are.” And it’s no doubt that those words of his are dripping with sarcasm and fake empathy. He’s too predictable at this point. 

Normal people would have freaked out to see their friend choking on air like this but it’s been countless times since Minho saw you hacking up lungs and had people yelling at him “Why the fuck are you just standing there ? She’s dying !” But truthfully, you do that all the time and he just doesn’t want to waste a single chance to at least make fun of you.

You sneer at him. “Hold your fucking tongue, you hypocrite.” As you put on the oxygen tubes and loop them around the rim of your ears, you breath adjusts itself slowly and steadily until you don’t sound like a drowning donkey again. 

“Whatever Y/N, I hope you don’t fail Park’s accounting class because that’d ruin my reputation.” Minho rolls his eyes dramatically as if the scene he’s just caused wasn’t dramatic enough in the first place. “Do you have the slightest idea of what I was trying to teach you for the past hour and a half ?” He asks semi-seriously because no matter how passionate he is about pestering you, you failing a subject because of him is the last thing he wants to go home with on his conscience. 

“Nope.” You beam. 

Minho closes his eyes and takes in a sharp breath. He’s trying so hard not to scream out loud right now, such an amusing sight. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” He repeats after himself, sounding more like he’s trying to prevent himself from exploding rather than comforting you about your stupidity. “We can just start over, I’ll just make a quick summary and you try to do the assignments by yourself after this, okay ?” 

“Fine.” 

And as Minho starts blabbering about the mere basics of accounting, the door swings open to reveal Jackson - your nurse - who’s pushing a cart full of medications inside your room, the wheels screeching against the tiled floor. “Having fun with maths again, I see.” Jackson comments with a mischievous smile. 

“Hey Jackson !” Minho inquires innocently. They both used to share a room when Jackson was still in college. Not to mention, he was good friends with 3racha and made dope music for Minho’s auditions. So you can say that Minho’s technically allowed to fanboy a little over your nurse. “You best believe that Y/N has been doing the most to comprehend what I was saying since she just appreciates me so much.” 

Jackson cackles loudly, too loudly for the sake of being in a hospital. He’s lucky that they spent a good amount of cold, hard cash to make the walls soundproof. “Just bear with her until freshman year is over. Don’t pick on the sick kid, that’s not very nice.” And now all you want to do is to put both of their heads on a stick because you know that having both Jackson Wang and Lee Minho in the same conversation is equivalent to the definition of ‘oneself against the world’. Because Jackson too, acts like an old bitchy cat and loves to laugh his ass off at your impending misery. 

You grit. “Square the fuck up.” But the scowl on your face soon fades as your nurse reaches his hand outwards underneath the blue fabric that has the whole cart covered and pulls out a brown paper bag. Now, it’s Jackson’s turn to give you a dirty look when you gratefully take the McDonal’s order from his hand like a three-year-old. “You peasants can live for the time being.” 

“You’re lucky that your body needs 3000 calories per day or else Jaebum will fire me for feeding you junk food so often.” He informs you rather sarcastically as he scatters your description medications across the table where you’d chose to put your collection of stuffed animals instead of other necessities like textbooks or plastic binders. “I didn’t sign up for this FYI, ugh, I need money to pay off student’s loan too you know ?”

And that’s another perfect example of one hundred and one reasons why you’re not pumped for college like other kids. First off, what do you mean if someone’s privileged then they get to turn the assignment in later than everyone else ? And secondly, how the fuck can a graduate pay off their loans when they’re struggling like a fish out of water to find a decent job ? Not to mention, college dramas are the absolute worst. Things won’t be as lighthearted as highschool when students are entering bars with fake IDs and do drugs to get their minds off things that are stressing them out, which is almost everything. 

In conclusion, college is just more of a shithole than highschool so you don’t really get the hype about it. 

“You’ll be fine, Wang, stop being so whiny.” You snicker and drop a french fire into your mouth before chewing obnoxiously. “Have fun with your night shift.” You wave him off as he glares at you while pushing the cart outside. The moment Jackson swings the door open again, you can see a figure passing by but this one in particular catches your attention. And surprisingly, it’s a boy because it’s been ages since you have some kind of interest in guys, non-platonically of course. 

Not to be one of those creepy people, but you’d admit it, he’s quite the looker. Defined nose, full lips and cute mono lids, the air tossing his black mullet like how every protagonist makes their entrance into the movie. But he also has oxygen tubes put on just like you, perhaps you’re in the same boat ? Either way, that’s not the point because while pretty boy’s out there looking like a runway model in sweatpants, you’re nothing more than a couch potato because you’ve been doing nothing other than staying in bed all day. 

Good gracious he’s cute. 

“And that is how you can work on simple balance sheets.” Your friend closes in but frowns at your lack of attention. The door finally closes with a soft ‘click’, hurrying you back to reality to find a not-so-happy looking Minho. “Y/N, would you be a sweetheart and tell me that you didn’t miss a single detail during the last five minutes ?” His smile is rather stiff because his facial muscles are struggling hard not to burst as anger slowly bottles up inside of his chest captivity. For fuck’s sake, he hates it when you don’t listen on purpose. 

You cock your head to the side dumbfoundedly. “Wait— everything makes no sense.” 

Minho sighs in desperation. “Oh... what if you were smarter ?” 

two.

“Kkami !” Someone exclaims from behind you. 

You stop in the middle of your track and take out a side of your earbuds. The footsteps are getting louder and louder by the second along with the male voice. “Excuse me- pardon- Kkami I swear to God !” You decide to take a full ten seconds to comprehend what’s happening before turning around. The next thing you know is your head comes in contact with something hard, causing you to stagger backwards and land on your bottom. 

“Ugh, my head.” You wince at the aching feeling on your back as your pupils slowly dilate and adjust your vision on the current surroundings. The moment you lay your eyes on the figure in front of you, your mouth automatically lets out a silent scream. A cute boy just bumped into you, but then again, you wouldn’t overreact if he’s just any other cute boy. But he’s that cute boy who managed to distract you from Minho, who got your attention even when you just stared at him through a barely opened door. 

The boy widens his eyes when he sees what he’s caused. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry.” He apologizes with a smile, offering you a hand to pull you up right. “Are you okay ?”

You take his hand, almost flinching when his touch sends electricity throughout your body. His hands are much bigger than yours and are fully capable of enveloping your smaller ones with ease. You like that about him because you’ve never truly experienced what it feels like to hold someone’s hand in a non-platonic way. “Uhm, yeah, I’m okay but are you though ? You sounded like you’re going through a crisis looking for someone.” 

He smiles at you, eyes forming little crescent moon shape. “My mom brought my dog here and he accidentally ran off.” His laugh is melodic, sounding just like Mozart to your ears and you can’t help but crack a smile too. “It was nice meeting you, and I really have to go find him before he got to the NICUs or something… but I think we should get to know each other more. What do you say ?” He chides with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

You yank his hand away harshly. “I thought you’re better than that.” It’s ridiculous how boys with A+ look can just slide into your lives and stay for as long as they want then just disappear as if they’ve never been there in the first place. You’d hate to see a version of yourself who spends all day crying in bed because some bastard doesn’t love her back so this pretty boy over here better go before you throw him off a cliff. 

“Don’t ever talk to me again.” And with that, you walk away without turning your head, not even once. Well, so much for a Tuesday afternoon. Tuesdays are supposed to be easy-going for you since you just have to get yourself through several assignments and essays but someone just had to pop up in your life and ruin everything. 

The scowl on your face drops when you push the glass door of the pediatric unit open. Immediately, the kids see you and quickly abandon their nurses to run towards your direction. Your dad just got back from a business trip in Sydney and he still thinks that you’re a nine-year-old so your room is basically filled with candies and other sweet treats. That’d better change today. “Behave well and all of you will have one.” You chuckle at the kids’ eagerness, personally handing one bag over to each and every one of them. 

Five minutes later, the amount of treats are slowly trickling down until there’s only one bag left. In which, you’ve saved it for a specific someone since he’s just that obsessed with Australian candies. Your phone buzzes. How convenient. 

[ 3:45p.m. ]

yongbokie | okay, I’m here, where are you ?

y/n | seventh floor, just go straight down the hallway and it’s on the right side. 

“Here’s your worksheets, now where’s my Tim Tam Slam ?” Felix shoves the stack of papers into your arms as soon as he spots you inside the pediatric unit, surrounded by children, a whole lot of children. He knows your love for kids all too well and the fact that you’re lonely in this hospital is no shocker. Meaning, you’re a part-time kindergarten teacher ( aka whenever you feel like slacking off on school work ). 

You scoff at him, throwing the bag of candies at him with as much aggression. “Changbin’s gonna kick you out sooner or later if you end up looking like a pig, enjoy it while you can.” That’s obviously useless since Seo Changbin is as utterly soft for Lee Felix as you are for kids. Both are annoying little pricks but somehow, your little heart can never get mad. “And you better share that with Chan too or else he’s gonna write an entire diss track about me.” 

“CB97’s new diss track material is apparently Tim Tam Slam, how terrific.” Your friend snickers and tears the bag open single handedly with his teeth while his other hand tapping away on his phone. He doesn’t even need a cup of hot chocolate, that’s how bad Felix is craving his childhood candy. 

“Ooh, earrings ? And jeans too ?” He cocks a brow at your dainty pieces of jewelry. And you never wear jeans in the hospital, never. You think that’s it’s equivalent to asking someone to suffocate you as if the hospital isn’t suffocating enough. “Who are you trying to impress ?” 

Upon his teasing, you let out an audible groan. For once in your life, you’ve made up your mind and actually packed something decent because hospital romance is a thing and you need to be prepared at all times. Not to mention, you might as well snatch yourself a guy who’s totally father material because you hang out at the pediatric unit most of the time. “Haha, very funny. Try and find me someone cute then.” 

Just then, very slowly, a familiar figure takes long strides towards your direction. “Anyone, but him.” You deadpan.

“Him ?” Felix says over a mouthful of chocolate as he turns his head to the front door. 

And holy shit. 

To your dismay - with a bag over his shoulder, face flushed from running with beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks that make him glow like Edward Cullen and his wet fringe covering his eyes slightly — is the pretty boy from yesterday, well, more like five minutes ago. They say everything’s uglier close-up but not him. He’s absolutely breathtaking, undeniably brilliant as if he had just stepped out from an anime. But you’re not falling for that perfect smile again, at least for the time being. 

“Oh hell no.” Felix quickly identifies the boy and hangs his jaw open, the plastic wrapper falling out from his hand. You look at your friend in disbelief, your expression mirroring his - completely lost for words. 

The boy waves his hand at him and smiles widely. “Yongbok !” And just like that, your brain starts to process the new amount of overwhelming information. Slowly, and steadily, all the dots are connected. That guy is definitely heading towards your direction. No one knows Felix’s Korean name unless they’re close friends or family members. Jesus motherfucking Christ-

Felix demands loudly. “Hyunjin, do not move !” 

The pretty boy - whose name is apparently Hyunjin - stops abruptly at his friend’s sudden outburst. He turns his head only to accidentally make eye contact with you. Cocking a brow, he averts his attention back to Felix. You too, tug on your friend’s sleeve before questioning him. 

“You know him ?” “You know her ?” 

Felix widens his eyes in terror and quickly pushes Hyunjin away. “You people are insane ! Six feet away at all times, it’s a fucking simple protocol !” 

“Huh- wait what ?” You stutter. Soon enough, all of the colors on Hyunjin’s face are completely drained and a worrisome feeling suddenly runs down your spine. 

You exchange a weird look with him. “Don’t tell me that you’re a...“

“Are you also a… “ 

Felix face palms himself. “You fucking guessed it.” 

three.

The next few weeks get a little bit mayhem since you’re wrapping up the semester while being hospitalized at the same time. Meaning, you’re struggling real hard to balance the whole feud with finals and all of the medical stuff along with really boring paperwork because your body decided to fail you once again. 

No one was really able to give you company since they have to deal with their own problems too. Your parents are busy with their draining business trips while your brother - Woojin is getting his bachelor degree soon. And Minho is graduating in less than a month. Moreover, you haven’t met the pretty boy since your first and only encounter. 

Speaking of the Devil, “Fancy seeing you here.” 

You peel your eyes away from your laptop and see Hyunjin. In which, almost makes you fall right off the stool that you’ve been occupying for the last hour. You’re still procrastinating like highschool but you’re actually determined to finish your essay because if not, you won’t be able to walk away from your problems again. 

“Six feet away at all times, not six feet under the ground. So knock it off.” You deadpan, ushering him further away with a wave of your hand. If you were being completely honest, Hyunjin just took the breath right out of your lungs at the slightest glance. Time really does make people blind because you almost forgot that although he did try to flirt with you that one time, he’s also drop dead gorgeous. And that makes your heart tingles, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. 

Hyunjin makes a ‘I’mma-need-you-to-relax’ face and takes a seat on the opposite side of the table. “You still radiate big passive aggressive energy, not so good of a first impression.” 

You laugh dryly. “Speak for yourself. Talk about some shitty flirting skills.” 

“In my defense,” He raises a brow and throws you a look, one that makes you feel personally attacked. “I was genuinely trying to make friends, you sure know how lonely it is to be hospitalized all the time, don’t you ?”

You sneer at him. “Well, you picked the wrong person.” 

“How am I supposed to know that you’re also a CF-er ?! You weren’t wearing your oxygen tubes.” 

Apparently, you think that life hates you more than most of the world’s population because you weren’t just born with cystic fibrosis, you were born into it. The genetic disease gifts you with constant lung infections and gives you a hard time to breath in order to function like a normal human being. More accurately, the protein inside your body becomes dysfunctional so it loses the ability to move chloride to the cell surface. Meaning, the mucus in various organs can attract more bacteria along with germs, causing infections and inflammation. 

So naturally, minimizing contact with any kind of germs and other CF-er are your top priorities unless you want to catch their bacteria and choke to death on it instead. With that being said, you’ve just come to a realization that Hyunjin touched you the other day, skin to skin without any kind of protection like gloves. Some CF-ers have caught each other’s bacteria before by touching a doorknob, and that story scared you shitless. 

You speak up, finally. “Uhm… so.. were you okay ?” 

“If you’re asking if I got cross-infection or not, then no, I’m totally fine. None of that B. cepacia shit.” Hyunjin answers while avoiding your eyes. He quietly reaches inside his backpack and pulls out a blue binder that looks like it’s been used since elementary school because plastic never really goes away. 

You raise a curious brow when he pulls out some pieces of papers that are covered in an awfully dizzy amount of words. “What you got there, pretty boy ?” 

“Now you’re talking, I almost ended up on the ground laughing when you thought that I was nothing but a shallow fuckboy.” Hyunjin is still pissed off because not only did you despise him, you also happens to be Felix’s best friend. Totally irrelevant, but he’s also mad at Felix for not telling him about you sooner. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want the both of you to accidentally kill each other or anything but still, Hyunjin did hold your hand and nothing happened. 

You prop your head on your hand, lips cracking a smile. “But I’m interested now, no hard feelings. You really need to lighten up drama lama.” You’re just noticing this now, but it seems like he’s really similar to Felix. Point break, he’s an easy victim to pick on anytime, anywhere. Of course you’re going to take advantage of this. 

Hyunjin replies monotonously. “I need to practice my lines for the upcoming play for finals season.” He’s trying so hard not to give in and smile at you because he’s decided to play hard to get. 

“No wonder why you’re a dramatic little dipshit. How fitting.” You grin coyly at the scowl on his face. “Okay, sorry, let me tone that down. What are you guys playing ?” 

Hyunjin groans. “We’re trying to fit an entire season of ‘Once Upon a Time’ into a two-hour play. And my fucking God, Captain Hook has a shit ton of lines.” Although it does appeal as a privilege to other people that drama majors can skip through the whole ‘cramming and crying’ to pass their finals, what people don’t know is the amount of work and effort that needs to be put into a single play. It requires patience, team chemistry, diligence and lots of, lots of caffeine to have a decent performance for the whole school. 

There was this one time he pulled seven all nighters in a row just to finish ‘Peter Pan’ before the holiday hit. And for the following five days, he basically lived on his bed and fed on leftover pizza that his roommate refused to microwave. 

You offer him kindly. “Maybe I can help you practice ?” You really feel like a fucking angel with your own imaginary halo shining ever so brightly on the top of your head. “I got nothing better to do anyway, not planning on being stuck with accounting 24/7 or I’m gonna end up in an insane asylum.”

“Thought you’re already in one.” 

“Say that again and I’ll skin you alive !” 

four.

Hwang Hyunjin is fortunately blessed by whatever gods up there because you finally finished finals way before the D-day of his play. Which means you feel even more obligated to help him practice his lines. 

But in all seriousness, he technically doesn’t need you because all you do is read the other characters’ lines right off the script anyway. Unlike you, even in the hospital cafeteria with a stainless steel fork as the hook on his right hand, Hyunjin plays the character as if he’s the one and only, non-biological heir of Leo DiCaprio. 

You can see why he chose the dramatic arts because he embraces and studies closely every movement, every gesture, every inch of flesh, every drop of emotion that his character has to offer. No wonder why they let him play one of the male protagonists because you can’t imagine anyone other than him play the iconic Captain Hook. And it’s actually nice to not having him spatting some kind of witty comments at you every two minutes. 

You clap your hands together. “Act 4. Scene 1.” 

“I already told you, I’m just a blacksmith !” Hyunjin tries to whimper as quietly as possible to avoid dirty looks from other people. He’s portraying that scene where Hook basically got tied up on a tree so that the others could get him talking. 

Your eyes narrow down into a glare, mentally throwing daggers at his general direction. Meaning if Hook doesn’t spill who he really is, he’s gonna be the monster’s meal in a matter of time. “You won’t talk to us ? Maybe they’ll talk to you and snatch one of your limbs for lunch.”

“You can’t just leave me here like this !” He sudden yelps, startling you in the process. You quickly avert your attention from the script to his eyes, clearly they show nothing but desperation and mischief. As the character should have. 

“Su-Sure you’re not.” You stutter, not knowing how to express the words inside the parentheses. 

Hyunjin guides you patiently. “Say it like you’re gonna set me on fire if I dare to test you. Be aggressive, talk aggressively, act aggressively. Aggressive is your middle name now.” His voice starts to get louder and louder at the end, a thing that he accidentally adapted from Chan. He doesn’t even need megaphones to yell at someone at this point. 

You give him a curt nod before gripping the script tightly once again. If you’re gonna help him, you’ll have to make it seem like you’re not slacking off. 

“Sure you’re not.” You deadpan, cringing at your own attempt to sound intimidating. Acting was never your thing either way. You’ve only been chosen for pity roles like ‘Girl #2’ or ‘Tree #5’ for some plays back in middle school and the beginning of highschool. 

He smirks. “Good for you. You bested me. I can assure you that the number of people who have done that before can only be counted on one hand.”

Another thing, you fucking love Emma Swan because she’s practically your twin. The only thing is that you’re not even half as badass as her. Sometimes you don’t even realize that there’s a script in your hands this whole time. “I’m sorry, was that supposed to be funny ? Who are you ?”

“Kilian Jones.” Hyunjin says with a glint of fierceness flickering in his irises. His intense gaze almost makes you run straight into the restroom and scream for a good five minutes. “But most people have taken to call me by my more colorful moniker, Hook.” The rasp in his voice sends chills to the core of your bones. 

You cock a brow. “As in, Captain Hook ?”

He beams. “Ah, so you’ve heard of me.”

You pant slightly out of nervousness, gripping onto the edge of the wooden stool for fuck’s sake. “Hurry up, they’re getting closer. Unless you want to be dinner, you better start talking.” 

Hyunjin shakes his head gently. “Don’t just read out the line. Don’t become the character. Make the character yours. Make it seems like her lines are personally tailored to every single detail of your existence.” He’s mentoring you as if you’re the one who plays Emma Swan and not that one pretty girl from his class. You swear, you’re not a stalker, he literally just spilled everything about his life after very few conversations with you. 

You nod. “Hurry up, they’re getting closer. Unless you want to be dinner, you better start talking.” This time, you finally got a good grip on the character’s emotions, slowly falling into a haze. 

“Cora told me to gain your trust so that I can learn everything there is to know about your storybook.” Hyunjin singsongs, lips curling upwards. You really want to deck him in the face right now. That’s how good of an actor he is. “She didn’t want any surprises when she got over there.”

You pretend to be in disbelief, jaw dropping in the process. “She can’t go there. We already destroyed the wardrobe.” 

He chuckles this time. God you wish you can wipe that stupid smirk off his face, although everything’s just an act. “Ah, my enchantment remained. Cora gathered the ashes and she’s gonna use them to open a new portal.” He looks at you, wiggling his brows to show off his skills before continues. “Now, if you’d just kindly cut me loose—“

“Let’s go.” You say monotonously to your non-existent cast, waving your free hand as a signal for them to walk away. 

“Wait !” Hyunjin slams his fist on the table loudly. It seems like he’s getting immersed in the character again because he can’t be bothered to give two shits about the fact that everyone’s having their eyes on him. More accurately, on the two of you. “You need me alive !”

You also try to ignore all of the weird looks. “Why ?”

“Because we both want the same thing. To get back to your land.” When you meet Hyunjin’s eyes, you nod at him to continue with the script. “I initially arranged for transport with Cora, but seeing just how resourceful you are, I’ll offer you the same deal. I’ll help you as long as you promise to take me along.”

You clear your throat. “How are you going to help us ?”

Hyunjin proceeds to elaborate, slowly. “The ashes will open a portal but to get to your land, she’ll need more. There’s an enchanted compass, Cora seeks it. I’ll help you obtain it before she does.”

“So Cora won’t make it to Storybrooke and we’ll be one step closer to being home. Sounds too good to be true.” You mock him, the corners of your mouth twitching slightly. 

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

“I’ll need you to tell me one thing then.” You point the tip of your sword (knife) directly at his throat (a good three inches away) as an attempt to threaten him. “What does the infamous Captain Hook want in Storybrooke ?”

“To exact revenge on the man who took my hand. Rumplestiltskin.” Hyunjin finishes his line and claps, breaking out of character. He looks disturbed at the particular way that you’re pointing the knife at him. “And… cut ! Put the knife down, Y/N. You’re a sadist, not a murderer.” He pushes the piece of cutlery away as if it’s a ticking bomb. 

This time, it’s your turn to wiggle your brows at him. “You don’t know me. What if I’m an actual murderer who preys on the innocent at night, when everyone’s fast asleep in their cozy beds, when they’re the most vulnerable ? What if I’ve been living a double life this entire time and you’re my next target ?” Actually, scratch that. Hyunjin thinks you’re pretty fitting for the role of Regina aka the Evil Queen. 

“Admit it you moron, you’re a sucker for my acting.” He flips his imaginary long hair and you make a gagging noise. It seems like Hyunjin has adapted the habit of holding grudges from Felix because the shy pretty boy that you met a few weeks ago is nowhere to be seen. Like he has grown accustomed to you, he treats you like an old friend, just catching up on things with each other. But in reality, his confidence level just went from a 100 to Han Jisung because you’ve been feeding his ego way too much. 

“There’s room for improvement.” You shrug, trying to keep a straight face. Emphasis on the ‘trying’ part. “Bet you’d do better if that pretty girl was here.”

Hyunjin blows a few strands of loose hair out of his face. He looks really good with disheveled hair, and it’s tickling something at very bottom pit of your stomach. “Kinda wish you could play Emma. You two are literally the same person. She’s just slightly cooler because at least she doesn’t sleep with opened windows.” 

“Is this a fucking call out ?” You hold back the urge to slap him with your slippers. “My room’s on the third floor for fuck’s sake.”

“Rapists can climb.” He smiles cheekily and it makes you ponder about how many more questionable behaviors of his you'd have to deal with for the long future. “You’re definitely going, don’t leave me hanging okay ?” Hyunjin declares and slaps a ticket on the wooden surface, sliding it across the dining table. 

You blink countless times at the ticket, hesitating to grab it with your bare hands. “Take it, I’m wearing gloves anyway.” He reassures you, skimming through some of the scenes that he feels like he could do better. Hyunjin might not look like it but he’s really hard on himself. He takes every single scene, every single line seriously and you admire that about him. He even complained to you how he could have done better for the role of Diaval for ‘Maleficent’ from last month’s play. 

“So the play’s on March 20th ?” You play dumb and pretend to question him after reading the bold letters written in gold. 

Hyunjin peels his eyes away from the script and smiles, eyes forming little crescent moon shape. “Yeah, the day that I’m turning 21, kinda terrifying but since it’s adulthood, I’ll have to bear with it for the rest of my life. At least I have the right to make decisions for myself now.” 

You ask him timidly as your hand fiddle with the sleeves of your hoodie. “Uhm so, do you wanna, I don’t know, get coffee after that or something ?” 

He gives you a dirty look, hard. Clearly Hyunjin’s annoyed. “Look who wants coffee now.” 

“That’s not a ‘no’ that I heard.” 

“You’d better pay up then, I haven’t got paid yet.” 

five.

[ 8:23p.m. ]

y/n | meet me on the terrace.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god.” Hyunjin mutters as he rushes to the dressing room, and even more loops of ‘oh my god’ run through his mind, faster than a lighting bolt. He totally forgot about you until you made eye contact with him when the cast members took a full ninety degrees bow to the audience. You were clapping, cheering on for him like an old friend. But you were smiling, so brightly that he thought you could have lit up the entire stadium on your own. 

Chan finally finishes bowing to the rest of the cast and the crew. He feels like he can only breathe properly once the play came out smoothly. Unfortunately, it didn’t. Minho slipped over his long coat during the second scene, Seungmin was struggling with the lighting and Jisung nearly threw himself over the balcony. Besides that, everything went pretty okay. Little errors are unavoidable so he’ll let everything slide, because the play that he spent months planning out, training the cast so eagerly didn’t come out as a flop. 

“Woah, mate, where are you going in such a hurry ?” He quirks a brow when Hyunjin swings the door open, hair disheveled with ‘panic’ written in bold capital letters across his forehead. 

Changbin supplies unhelpfully as he steps out from behind the black curtain. Little strips of confetti are sticking onto his sweaty hair, thanks to Jisoo who kinda went overboard with the can of hairspray. “He invited a friend to come in and watch the play, can’t leave her hanging now, can he ?” He wiggles his brows in the most obnoxious way possible, being the little pest that he is. 

“I didn’t even say that my friend’s a girl— she’s not even my friend— wait, she is but we’re not that close— what, fuck you.” Hyunjin gives up after four attempts of forming an actual sentence. As if he’s forgotten how to speak, his voice fails him once again when a witty retort lingers at the tip of his tongue. He gives in and goes behind the curtain, quickly changing out of his costume. Like okay, pirates are cool and all but their sense of fashion is pretty questionable because leather boots and salt water ? Not compatible. 

Changbin peels the confetti off his hair before singsonging. “Our Hyunjinnie got himself a date, he’s all grown up now.” 

Chan throws his head back and laughs wholeheartedly. This is why he’s not planning on falling for someone soon because having a chaotic, annoying group of friends can only make things so much more difficult. “Give him a break, Bin. A boy can love whoever his heart yearns for.” Then he pauses, and continues. “Do you want to tell us something about her ?” 

Hyunjin scrunches his nose and starts singing. “Sing a yo ho, you can beg, plead and whine. But yo ho you are wasting your time.” The moment he finishes the line, he’s already changed into his normal clothing and pushed the curtain open. 

Chan and Changbin looks unimpressed. They both think that their friend should really stop quoting his own lines. Hyunjin throws Changbin the hook, then checks his own reflection in the mirror. Not too shabby, at least he didn’t forget to shave this morning. But it’s just you after all, you’d never judge him… wait no you’re highly judgmental. You once called him out for having a piece of carrot in the corner of his lips, shameless. 

“Hear me out one last time, mates. Then I’ve got a date with destiny.” Hyunjin continues to sing because he’s absolutely enjoying every moment of Changbin suffering and mentally dying on the floor. He wouldn’t even feel bad if his ears started bleeding or something, hanging out with weird people have turned him into a sadist, just like them. Tragic. 

Before Chan decides to wrestle him to the floor, Hyunjin starts moonwalking towards the door as he jumps straight to the last bits of the song. “Sing a yo ho, I’ll meet her tonight. Yo ho must be fate’s design. At last our hearts can be intertwined, can’t wait, can’t wait, can’t wait. God is on my side.” He’s just making up lyrics at this point nothing makes sense anymore. 

The door shuts with a small ‘click’, making him snap his mouth closed. Then I’ve got a date with destiny. Right, a date. Well, it’s technically not a date when you asked him to meet up on the terrace where there’s so much to offer. A brilliant view of the city, the ethereal moonlight which sets the atmosphere, just you and him standing face to face.. holy shit it’s a date ? 

“You’re late.” 

Hyunjin whines loudly at your cold statement and supports himself on his knees, chest heaving up and down at an abnormal space. Cystic fibrosis and ten flights of stairs are like water and oil, they don’t blend. “I was changing, do you know how hard it is to slip out of those leather combat boots ?” Upon your silence, he leans himself against the metal railings and sighs, standing a good six feet away from you. “Hey, at least I looked fly in them.” 

You automatically groan because fuck yes, he did look hot. Pirates aren’t supposed to be hot, they’re supposed to be smelly barbarians with shitty attitude. “Since when are you so cocky ?” 

Hyunjin tuts. “I’m very much aware of how good looking I am, thank you for taking your precious time to care about my tiny existence on this glorious planet.” He cocks his head sideways, narrowing his eyes at your sketchy posture. Both hands are hidden behind your back and you’re trying too hard to keep a straight face. “What are you hiding from me ?”

“Nothing.” You let out a small giggle. Clearly he’s not buying it. “Fine, close your eyes.” 

Hyunjin frowns at you but still closes his eyes nonetheless. He has enough faith in you that you won’t have the heart to knock him out cold before selling him off to some kind of mafia organization. “Y/N if you’re planning on kidnapping me, you might as well just do it—“ The words grow dead on his tongue once a small ‘pop’ occurs. What the fuck ? 

“Hey Hyunjin.” 

He flutters his eyes open at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. His hand immediately fly to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. “Oh my god, shut the fuck up !” He utters, shocked at what’s happening in front of his eyes. “You’re kidding, you’re kidding, you’ve got to be kidding me.” 

You laugh loudly at how frantic he is once you get down on one knee with a black velvet box in your hand. A silver band with his name engraved on the inside. “Hwang Hyunjin, can you fathom enough courage to walk with me through your youth even though sometimes you wish you could throw me off a cliff ? Can you bear the burden of indulging an impulsive and indecisive person like me in the long run ? Because if you can, then happy 21st birthday, you’re officially stuck with me with the label of being best friends.”

Hyunjin teases, lips curling up into a smile. “Can’t you be a little bit more romantic ?” Although he’s decently attractive, he’s still one of those guys who bury themselves in hopeless romance just because he spends way too much time on Netflix watching some random sappy show while Kkami is watching some stupid dog documentary right next to him on the couch. 

“Fine, I also got myself one. We’re matching.” You confess, showing him your band resting nicely around your index finger. “Since I just know you so well, are you happy with your present now birthday boy ?” 

You finish it off by slipping the ring onto his finger like a cherry on top of a sundae, watching in amusement at how his face is lighting up with joy. “Wow,” He manages the breath out, as light as a feather. “You’re so fucking cheesy, I hate you.” 

You laugh wholeheartedly. “Come on, let’s go downstairs. You have a whole party waiting for you to inhale. Cakes and junk food and all.”

When you stand up right again, shivers run down on your spine at the cold breeze passing by. The wind greets concrete and your skin just the same, tearing through the air and banging loudly against your eardrums. Hyunjin suddenly grabs the sides of your face, still keeping a good distance between you two. Your cheeks are instantly tinted pink at his touch. “Y/N ! Can you hear me ?!” He tries to shout over the wind but fails miserably. 

“What ??” You ask loudly, not being able to catch what he was trying to say. 

“No, you can’t hear me ??”

“What ? I can’t hear you !”

He beams at you and the strangest warm feeling bubbles up inside his stomach. “I have something to tell you !” If he’s doing this now, there’s no going back. 

“I still can’t hear you !”

Hyunjin ignores your confused expression. He slowly inhales to take a deep breath before shouting his heart out at you. “Y/N, I’ll protect you ! No matter what !”  

You can’t quite understand what he’s trying to convey to you but seeing him smiling so widely like this, you know that you could never trade him for anything else. Because no one has ever made you feel this way before, heart pounding inside your rib cage so loudly just by looking at him. You like how you can just see him, and be happy. 

He’s irreplaceable.

six.

Felix glares at the silver band wrapping around your finger, one that’s particularly matching with Hyunjin’s. “So what ? You two are dating now ?” 

“Lee Felix I swear to god, for the tenth time, it’s a just birthday present !” You cry loudly at your best friend overreaction. 

Jeongin butts in. “Yeah right, rings, matching and all. Don’t you think that’s a little bit romantic ?” You’re so fed up with these theatre kids it’s actually ridiculous, you’d rather be cursed than have them singsong into your ears everyday about how you and Hyunjin are acting somewhat sketchy. Sure, being dramatic is naturally what they do for a passion but sometimes you just can’t help it but snap at them to go and kiss a statue. 

“That’s the point of it, dipshit.” Hyunjin sips on his drink obnoxiously, reading through the final page of his reading assignment in a haze. He’s a little bit out of it from running around all day to not get yelled at by his professors for being late to every single damn lecture. “I’m desperate, I need something cute to lighten up my sad life so don’t judge me.”

Jisung suddenly pries loudly because unlike you or Hyunjin, he actually gives zero fuck about publicity and personal information. “Hyunjin and Y/N ? I ship it ! Since you both have been super single and super antisocial for so long, why not date each other ? Get married even, don’t you dare forget my invitation.” 

Needless to say, he quickly earns a smack on the head from Seungmin, hard. Hard enough to knock some logic and common sense into that little disturbing glimpse of thing that they call ‘a brain’ inside his head. “God, Han, you’re so dumb. If you want them to both choke on each other’s bacteria and die, then yeah, hit a five-star restaurant up with that reservation.” 

Sometimes Seungmin wonders why he even befriended Han Jisung in the first place. They nearly threw hands at each other back in highschool because Jisung would constantly forget his stuff inside Seungmin’s locker and Chan had to manually pull them apart later. 

“Actually..” Hyunjin fiddles with the strings of his hoodie. “I think I might have my eyes on someone.” Your heart automatically sinks at his words. Is this what betrayal feels like ? How come he’s never told you before ? Didn’t he promise that he’d never hide anything from you ? Does your friendship mean nothing to him at all ? 

You’d be lying if you said that you haven’t once thought about dating Hyunjin. But you don’t really see the point because it’s just a label over your relationship, it’s not gonna change how you treat each other. At least it’s not gonna change how you treat him. 

But in the end, you want nothing but the best for him so you’re obligated to become his dating counselor. 

Felix tuts eagerly. “Ooh, spill the tea. I’m here for it.”

“Let me guess, it’s that girl from Literature & Criticism 19B ?” Jeongin yawns lazily. Apparently he’s not digging the fact that Hyunjin doesn’t have any non-platonic interest in you. 

Hyunjin shakes his head profusely. “No ! We barely talk, it was only for a presentation from last month. And also I feel kinda awkward around her. Things never click between us.” 

Then, he proceeds to continue with dreamy eyes. “The girl that I’m talking about is so beautiful, so smart, so brave. She enjoys food like no other, like no one is watching and isn’t ashamed of the fact that she can live off donuts and Netflix for three weeks straight. She’s honest, playful but also very gentle and caring. Kinda reminds me of my mom, which is weird but whatever. Maybe people finding a sense of comfort in their partner who’s similar to their parents is a thing.” 

The look in his eyes makes your heart crack a bit. Just a teeny tiny bit. It’s that kind of look that you’ve never seen before but know too well what’s behind those brown eyes of his. The goddamn look one can only have when they’re thinking about that special someone who effortlessly makes their heart swell, who puts a smile on their face no matter what. It’s also that kind of look that you have whenever you’re thinking about Hyunjin. 

“Alright lover boy,” You crack a smile, rolling up your sleeves because things are about to go down. “You’ve just got yourself a dating counselor. A good old trusty friend who’s gonna be there if you accidentally have a mini mental breakdown on your first date.” 

“What do you know about dating ?” Felix’s more than stingy comment just stabs your sky high ego like a needle pricking the tip of a finger. 

You kick his knee from under the table, earning a low grunt in return. “I am the best in the business. Jackson Wang and Mark Tuan ? I did that.” 

Then you lace your fingers together neatly and look at Hyunjin dead in the eye. “So, what’s your ideal first date ?” 

He makes a thinking face. “I haven’t thought about that yet but maybe.. a hike ?” 

“Huh, cool.” You take a total of ten full seconds to process what he just said. 

You deadpan. “It’s a hard no. Consider the fact that she needs nothing but donuts and Netflix in her life, you’re gonna have to rage war with Satan in order to get her out of the house. Popcorn and blankets are total necessities, make them extra fuzzy too. Let’s stick a pin in that, we’ll get back to it later.” 

Felix asks, followed by a loud yawn. “Copy that, what shows is she into ?”

Hyunjin lets out a prolonged sigh. “I’m not so sure but she hates rom-coms and sappy dramas with a passion.” If you’re being completely honest, he really needs to calm down because if a girl is willing to cuddle with him, she’ll literally watch anything. And by that, you mean she will definitely pass out after the long winded introduction of the two protagonists. 

“Sounds like a gal who’d watch The Umbrella Academy.” And you totally didn’t say that just because it’s your favorite show. Because for once, Netflix actually didn’t produce something that was undeniably shitty. 

Hyunjin sounds uncertain. “I have never seen it before.” 

“But he can ?” Jeongin raises a brow.

You shake your head gently. “The show is vicious, violent and contains extremely disturbing content along with really shitty relationships between siblings. Also, the humor doesn’t suit you. Does a fifty-year-old man who’s stuck inside a thirteen-year-old boy’s body and is also someone who fell in love with a mannequin, grew up in a broken family, and became a murderer who timetravels sound enjoyable or what ?” 

Seungmin makes a face. “That can be a dealbreaker.” 

“Meet us halfway here !” Jisung clatters loudly. 

“Sorry, let me back it up a little bit.” You put your hands up in defense. “Hyunjin, it doesn’t matter if all you want to do is go out on a hike and she just wants to curl up into a ball inside her blanket. It doesn’t matter if you guys have different taste in movies. Nothing matters if she truly feels the same way for you because as long as the feeling is mutual, she’d definitely do anything to satisfy your picky ass.” 

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything. He turns his head to face the window and a grin quietly curls its way up on his lips. 

You should have seen the look on your face. 

seven.

Woojin growls at you from your laptop screen. “It’s one in the morning ! Get the fuck back to sleep !” 

He’s extra cranky today because he just finished off his final paper before graduation happens. Running on one hour of sleep per day with a cup of espresso doesn’t sound like the most ideal thing to do but fuck that, he’s not gonna throw all those years of crying over overdue projects in the trash. 

You on the other hand, are so fucking close to soil your pants because your heart is literally dangling off the edge. It’s either gonna roll backwards and land safely as if nothing has ever happened or everything’s going downhill from there. An endless pit of impending misery. And you’d hate to see yourself shedding tears while hogging a bucket of ice cream in your bed like a psychopath. So your only option is unfortunately, your hard headed, dumbass brother. 

But he’s not a complete idiot because his brotherly sixth sense is still there, and it’s never been better. “Okay, something’s up. Spill before I personally drag my ass to the hospital and beat you up to get something out of you.” 

You stutter, tripping over your own words like an absolute fool. “It’s— uhm… whatever, it’s not a secret anymore. It’s— it’s—“

“It’s Hwang Hyunjin.” Your brother reads your mind like a magician, leaving you utterly speechless. But it’s not even a surprise because apparently, everyone knows about your feelings for Hyunjin, just not Hyunjin himself. He’s unbelievably dumb even when Minho and Jisung keep on hinting at him in a not very subtle way. And that makes you wonder why you even fell for him in the first place. Even that fat cat who always takes naps on your balcony knows because you’d be smiling stupidly while FaceTime-ing Hyunjin all the time. It’s a miracle that the cat has not once given you a dirty look. 

You sigh. “Yeah, I‘m confused.”

“About what ?” Woojin huffs tiredly and blows some strands of hair out of his face. 

You blurt, panic mode is fully on. “About why I like Hwang Hyunjin so fucking much when he already had romantic interests in another girl !” 

Woojin thinks you’re being ridiculous and stubborn at the same time, which can make things that much harder for him to break it down for you. Firstly, if one is loved, then one is loved. There’s no reason needed for loving. This might sound like total bullshit, but ‘love at first sight’ is a thing, people are just too heartbroken to accept it these days. Secondly, if you really like Hyunjin all that much, you should be spilling your heart out at him, not at your brother. But whatever, Woojin is one step closer to pushing you towards confessing to your crush because he’s gifted with the ability to prevent you from doing anything dumb. 

“Then what makes you not wanting to like him ?” 

You widen your eyes. “What ?”

Woojin shakes his head gently, an exasperated sigh escapes his lips. “You can’t love all of him. This is real life, not a fucking John Legend’s song. If you don’t even know what you hate about him in the first place, you’re not gonna know why you like him relentlessly.” His words slowly sink into your mind, trains after trains of thoughts are dashing through your mind at the speed of light. Goddamn, your brother is right. 

“Gosh, I don’t know. I can’t hate him even when I want to.” Before you can pick every single strand of hair off your head, Woojin once again snaps you back into reality with a serious look on his face. He’s not messing around this time. “One, he’s a CF-er. And two, I’m not gonna be the one who walks down the aisle to have them announce our marriage. Three, he only sees me as a friend.” There’s no happy ending for people like you, especially you. The moment you found out that Hyunjin’s also a CF-er, you knew all too well that it’s over for you both. 

Your brother scrunches his nose in annoyance. He really should have signed you up for a dating counseling session. “You don’t know what the future holds. It could be better, it could be worse. Or nothing would change at all. Whatever happens, humans still yearn for the happy ending of their own imagination. Because after all, we were the one who pushed ourselves towards dead ends.” 

“What’s so wrong with loving someone ?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with loving someone, but how we love them.” 

Again, Woojin’s right. Every minute, every second, every moment with Hyunjin always leaves you completely stripped and vulnerable. All of your concerns, insecurities, and strength are revealed unintentionally. And the walls that you’ve spent years building ? Mercilessly destroyed. Someday, you’ll either look back on it and smile or you’ll realize that once you’ve fallen, there’s no turning back. You just can’t control who you’ll fall for. 

Being in love with Hyunjin is another reason why you believe that life hates you to the very core of your bones. It’s like the whole universe is playing with your mind, because all it takes is to make Hyunjin exists at the same time as you do. That alone is enough to mess up your entire existence. 

You cover your face with your blanket, voice muffled beneath the soft fabric. “What’s your point then ?”

“My point,” Woojin sits straight up from his bed and yawns in the loudest, most obnoxious way possible. “is that you can still fall for Hyunjin even when he’s a CF-er, even when he likes someone else. Hyunjin is still Hyunjin. Cystic fibrosis or none, he’s still just Hyunjin. And you love him for who he is. Don’t ever forget that. And don’t get mad when things don’t work out because loving is hard, loving is painful. You just try your best not to get hurt. Every scar has a story and it represents how you’ve grown throughout time. So it doesn’t matter if you accidentally trip and make a fool of yourself. You simply like Hwang Hyunjin, and I’m not going against that.”

You unknowingly smile. The perks of having an older brother always come at the most unexpected time. You suddenly feel bad for all of those kids who grew up without siblings. 

“So are you telling me not to be all sad and miserable ?”

Woojin nods absentmindedly. “Precisely. One day you might be strong enough to smile as you watch him intertwining his fingers with another woman’s. Give them your blessings, countless words will never be enough. What they want is your genuine honesty, how you’re truly happy for them. After that, take a different turn, or just move on as it is in silence. But do not let the memories that you made with him become meaningless because trust me, that hits harder. And that’s how you can love someone without being petty about it for the rest of your life.” 

You say. “I think I can hold back my tears when Hyunjin’s getting married now.”

“But he needs to know first.” Woojin interrupts you abruptly. 

You break out of your trance and ask. “Knows what ?”

“About your stupid feelings for him !” Woojin is quick enough to hold back the scream stuck inside his throat because if not, Chan’s gonna grill his ass so hard for making questionable noises in the middle of the night while his roommate is stressing over a song that’s yet to be complete. The double life between a college student and a SoundCloud rapper isn’t as hot as people tend to think. It just consists of a whole lot of cramming homework while trying to come up with a new batch of lyrics every two weeks. 

“He deserves to know that. The sooner the better.”

Conveniently, your phone buzzes on your night stand. 

[ 1:17a.m. ] 

hyunjin | I’m gonna do it. 

hyunjin | I’ll confess to her.

hyunjin | this is so terrifying what do I do ?

eight.

“Y/N wait up, you still have to take your medication !” Mark yells after your panicked figure dashing through the hallway while he’s pushing a cart with an awful amount of medicines piled up. 

You shout back at him abruptly. “I’ll be back in an hour ! Don’t tell Jackson about this !” Whatever, you hate being on a drug trials anyway. Having multiple pills shoved down your throat each and everyday makes you sick to the core. It seems like you’re only getting closer to being buried six feet under the ground. But that’s not the point. 

Point is, if you’re going to die sooner or later, there’s no way in hell you’d let your life end before you tell Hyunjin how you truly feel about him. 

“Hyunjin, where exactly are you going ?” You manage to talk in between short breaths while having him on the other line. 

He replies bluntly, uneven breathing and quick footsteps can be heard. “You know how everyone has their own youth, right ?” You keep running despite the fact that what he said just makes no sense. What on Earth is he planning on doing ? 

“I also have a youth of my own.” He pauses for a while. “But it seems like… my youth is one to be forever reserved.”

You shake your head furiously, confused at what he’s trying to convey. “Hyunjin, I don’t get it. One moment you’re talking about how you’ll confess to the love of your life and now you’re telling me this ? Did something happen ?” 

Hyunjin ignores your question and continues. “My parents would always urge each other to work harder, to make more money so that I can have a lung transplant and prolong my life day after day. But it’ll cost us five hundred thousand dollars, eight hundred even. So I was more than happy to tell them that I’m ready to stop walking on this beautiful flower path anytime. Then, I saw the heartbroken look in my mom’s eyes. That look, it’s— it’s haunting, and hurt me profoundingly.”

His breath hitches, making your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. Knowing that he’s in such a vulnerable state but there’s nothing you can do about it hits so hard that you hate yourself. “There was a man who came up and met me in my hospital room one day, told me that he saw every single play that I’ve participated in. He wanted to sponsor me, to let me fully enjoy my own youth, to give me the money to fly to the States, to get a lung transplant, and lead me to stardom afterwards.”

“But..” He suddenly chuckles. “I have no desire to receive his generosity. Not even one bit. Now, before you start yelling at me, hear me out. I know that I’m selfish, I know that I’m being stubborn but the life that he’s talking about. That’s not the life that I’ve always dreamt of. The life that I wanted, is one where all of my family and friends, are eternally safe, and happy. That’s it, it’s as simple as that. Hence, I’m willing to give that chance to someone else. Someone who’s very special and close to my heart.” 

Hyunjin lets out a muffled sob on the other line and you’ve never felt so helpless before. You just wish you could run to him, tell him that everything’s gonna be okay, and touch him. You don’t know how someone who’s so close can be so far away at the same time. 

“Because.. well, because cystic fibrosis isn’t just leading me on a path that’s one step closer to death, but it’s also threatening the happiness of the girl I’ve unfortunately fallen for. Unfortunately, that is. She’s always been the biggest ‘what if’ because there were nights where insomnia would creep up on my spine, it was impossible to shut my eyes with her on my conscience. Because why me ? Why me ? I just need a little bit more time, just a little so that I can see her smile, so that I can hold her close, so that I can finally tell her how I really feel.” 

“Time is a currency that you can only use, not make. And I’m already running low. Obviously, I can care less even if I die tomorrow. But as long as I’m alive, let me live as merrily as possible, as happily as possible, and to be able to see my loved ones as long as possible.”

Just then, it feels like the whole world just stops spinning when all you can hear is the sound of your shoes tapping against the ground, and him sobbing like a distressed child, raw deep down from the inside. You didn’t realize that you’re crying uncontrollably until salty drops of tears trickle down on your cheeks and drench the collar of your shirt. They blur your vision but you keep on running because Hyunjin needs you, he needs you now. 

The icy grey sky is like a piece of fabric draped over the whole town. Dark clouds snuggle closer to each other as they hold in the heavy rain in their delicate forms. All of a sudden, rain pours over you with a roar, thunders grumble vigorously in the distance. The coldness of its touch pierces right through your skin and chills run down your spine beneath your clothes that are now soaking wet. Your footsteps never once falter and continue to move on down the slippery path. 

“To love you as long as possible.” Hyunjin breathes out, as light as a feather. “Y/N, I hate to break it to you but I no longer want to be friends with you. Because I already love you too much to accept the label of being best friends.” He says with such determination and huffs. “With that being said, I’ll now consider the ring on my finger as a proposal. And to answer your question on my birthday, yes, I would love to walk with you on this path with the remaining time. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, to care for you, to be someone that you can lean on. So what do you say ? Are you ready to take my hand and my hand only ?”

“Yes, I am.” You stop once you’re right in front of the café that Jisung used to work in, where many unforgettable memories were made throughout time. And on the opposite side of the road, is Hyunjin. Your knees grow weak at the sight of him. Damp hair, teary eyes with a smile on his face. He’s absolutely ethereal and it’ll only take you a few more steps to get to him. “Hyunjin !” You wave at him, the balls of your feet automatically send you running towards his direction. 

You feel like you’re hazing because everything’s all too good to be true. How he’s looking at you lovingly, how you’re yearning for his touch, how you’re so close to have him in your arms. Sadly, the sound of rubber tyres hissing against the concrete floor snaps you back to reality. Before you can even process anything, there are two lights ahead blinding your eyes. With a jolt, you realize that those lights belong to a car. 

You didn’t know how it happened but the next thing you know is the feeling of the entire weight of your body is pinning you to the ground. Every single limb, every part, every organ inside your body feels like they are being crumbled like a piece of paper. Pain, there’s so much pain. The metallic taste of blood is soaking through your teeth, leaving you in that weird grey area between being awake and being unconscious. You can feel your flesh being torn open, your bones cracking, your lungs caving in for cramped air in silence. Silence, that scares you more than the blow itself. It feels like an eternity, just lying there, completely paralyzed as you wait for Death to arrive. 

It seems as if the agonizing pain is the only thing that's keeping you alive. 

“Y/N ! Y/N !” Hyunjin calls out to you helplessly as he cups the sides of your cheeks. Seconds later, you can feel his mouth against yours, giving you the amount of air that your lungs has been dying to have. “Y/N, stay with me, stay with me.” He mumbles against your ear before wrapping your arms around his neck to carry you on his back. Hyunjin is chasing time through the night, through the hellish downpour to not waste a single minute, a single second to keep you safe. Because he’s just so sick, so fucking sick of life for taking everything away from him. He’s not gonna lose you, not like this. 

“Hyunjin,” You whisper weakly.

He shakes his head. “Don’t fucking die on me or I’m never gonna be able to forgive you.” 

“Hyunjin, I’m kinda sleepy.” You laugh, tasting the coopery blood inside your mouth. “I’ll just take a nap, just for a while, okay ?” Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, you can’t tell whether he’s just being stubborn or he can’t hear you with the heavy rain down pouring onto him. But that doesn’t matter anymore because you’re far too exhausted to start arguing with him. Naturally, you’re going to allow yourself to black out either way. 

nine.

Weeks later, you’re standing on the rooftop by yourself to run away from the stuffy air of the hospital, those floors and walls that all have an undertone of bleach. They suffocate you, everything does. 

You watch the sunset at horizon, enjoying the majestic sight in front of you as if it’s the last thing you’ll ever witness. Rich hues of red, yellow, orange blend into one another gracefully, dancing in between the pink fluffy puffs of clouds. Your spirit soars into the distance as you inhale deeply, feeling refreshed after a long day. It does feel nice to not have all sorts of machines attached to your body like ropes that are tying you down into a single place and trapping you inside a tiny box. 

Everyday, you’d sneak out of your room to come up here, and meet him again. 

“Y/N,” You close your eyes, smiling at the sound of his voice echoing inside your ears. “By the time that you’re listening to this audio, I would probably, you know, be gone.” 

A single tear silently roll down on your cheek. “But I’ll tell you what. I’m not scared of dying, because having the persistent information that I’m always one step closer to hell than everyone else has accidentally made me numb. I am terribly afraid of one thing though.” Hyunjin clears his throat. “I don’t want to be separated from my friends, my family, and from you. Moreover, I don’t want to see the people whom I love so devotedly suffer just because of me. I know what you’re doing, wipe those tears off your face right now. Chin up, and smile. Or you’ll end up complaining about your face getting puffy again.”  

You laugh at his words, and attempt to wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt. “Once I’m no longer walking on this flower path with you, that means a new chapter is ready to be open. I cannot thank you enough for bumping into me that day. And thank you for agreeing to practice my lines with me. I could have never played Captain Hook if it weren’t for you. And thank you, for the ring, it’s the most precious thing I've ever had on my hand. But I’ve figured… you deserve a new life. I know that five years doesn’t sound like much but maybe in those five years, things might change and there will finally be a cure for cystic fibrosis.”

“You might think, how could you possibly move on without me ? Well, think of me as a dandelion. Oddly charming, with a short life span. But I’ll never really go away because at the end of its life, a dandelion’s pistil will give birth to countless of seeds. Those seeds will be carried away by the wind and continue to grow, to breed, to multiply themselves for so many more purposes.” 

Hyunjin suddenly starts crying quietly, you can hear how he’s trying to muffle his sobs and it makes your heart shatter into a million pieces. There’s absolutely nothing that you can do. “I’m very content with the life current that I have, or had. At least I’ll die knowing that I have no regrets.” He chuckles. “But there’s still something that I need to tell you, just in case. Not to be pessimistic, but just in case.”

“Y/N, I love you, more than anything in the whole wide world. It’s so frustrating because there were times where I wish I could just have you in my arms, to feel your warmth, to kiss you, to touch you. I don’t care about labels because that wouldn’t change my feelings for you. I’d still love you foolishly because I care too much. Too much that it hurts. I want to spend the little amount of remaining time with you. I even don’t know if you’re the one but I need you in my life. You and only you.” 

His voice cracks. “...just don’t miss me too much, okay ?” 

You can swear that it’s not hazing but if you look far enough, Hyunjin is still there, waving at you with a smile on his face. 

Approximately six feet away. 

[littlestarofthewest]

Title: Matthew’s Monster Mystery | Words: 2759 | Rating: Mature

Pairing: Gen | (past John x Abigail) | Tags: monster AU, modern AU, WIP

Credit: inspired by @veradia‘s art | with input from @fangirl-ramblings and @sad-sweet-cowboah

Summary: When John insists on going to a Halloween party, Abigail worries that people might catch on that she and her friends aren't just dressed up as monsters. If only she knew that the night would take a turn for the worse.

Arthur hears voices the second he opens the apartment door, meaning that his three roomies are home, and judging from the sound of it, they're arguing.

"Come on, Abby. It's a party, not a matter of life and death."

"John, you're literally dead," Abigail counters, making Arthur huff a laugh.

He checks the mail on the counter while the argument continues in the other room.

"So? Doesn't mean I have to act like it," John says. "Back me up here, Sadie."

"He has a point," Sadie says, and Arthur enters the room right as Abigail scuffs at her in disbelief.

"What's going on here?" Arthur asks, and when both John and Abigail attempt to answer, he points at Sadie. "I'd rather hear it from her."

John leans back against the couch like a sulking child while Abigail crosses her arms and glares at Arthur.

"John brought home this flyer for a Halloween party he wants to go to," Sadie says, nodding to a piece of paper on the table. "Guess what Abigail has to say about that."

"I can imagine," Arthur says, and Abigail huffs.

"And you know I'm right."

It's one of those times Arthur wonders why exactly he lives with these quarrelers, but as a werewolf, he can't exactly be picky. After all, he's lucky that they want to live with him. If only they left him out of these disputes.

To stall, Arthur picks up the flyer and reads through it, feeling everybody's eyes on himself.

"I understand your concerns, Abigail," Arthur begins, only to be interrupted by John, who jumps up from the sofa.

"Oh, come on. Not you, too!"

"But," Arthur continues, emphasizing the word as he looks at John, "I don't see the harm."

John slaps his hands together, throwing a triumphant "Ha!" at Abigail. She only rolls her eyes at him before turning to Arthur.

"You can't be serious," she says. "Us? At a party? I thought we agreed to fly under the radar. After all, we're not exactly the fitting in kind."

"In this case, we are," Arthur says, holding up the flyer. "Everybody's going to be in costume. I wouldn't have to worry about any teeth or fur showing, and John could go out without having to hide the fact that he's nothing but a rotting corpse for once."

"Appreciate the support, brother," John throws in with a sarcastic tone.

Arthur grins at him before Sadie snatches the flyer from his hand to read through it as well. "Look, Abigail, it's not even a Halloween party. It's tonight, not tomorrow. And it takes place in an abandoned factory. The area is huge, and nobody's going to look at us twice. And if they do, we'll just claw their eyes out and eat their hearts."

"Not. Funny," Abigail says, looking like she's about to claw Sadie's eyes out. She might have done so if it wasn't for the fact that Sadie could just pop them back in without harm.

"You could use a day off yourself," Arthur says, trying to set Abigail at ease. "You might not have the physical problems we have, but we know you're struggling with hiding all the time."

"Yeah," John throws in before Abigail can disagree once more. "Imagine a night out. Putting on a nice dress, dusting off the pointy hat. And if you throw some sparks, people will think it's a cool party trick."

"I don't know," Abigail says, the fight leaving her.

"Come on," John says. He walks over to Abigail and takes her hands. "Let me see those sparkling eyes."

Abigail tries her best to hide it, but a smile creeps onto her face. It's moments like these that make Arthur wonder why the two of them are not a couple anymore. They'd be great if they could just stop with the constant fighting.

"Show us, Abby," Sadie says, and when Abigail shakes her head, Arthur chimes in as well.

"You know you want to."

"Fine." Abigail takes a deep breath, closing her eyes. When she opens them, they're glowing with golden spots. "Let's go to the party."

--------

Arthur shoulders his way through the crowd to get back to their table. The gang turned him into their personal waiter since he has the best assets to get through the dancing people. 

"Coming through," he growls, and a steampunk Sherlock jumps to the side, dragging a person in a full-body fox costume with them to make room.

Climbing the stairs to the upper level, Arthur has the same effect on a few more people. Although they must think that it's a costume, they still seem mighty impressed. To celebrate the occasion, Arthur didn't bother to even put on a shirt, his fur and general body heat enough to keep him warm. The only thing he's holding back at the moment is the claws. It's kind of hard to carry drinks with them.

At the table, Arthur hands Sadie a beer before putting down two bottles of whiskey. Abigail's still nipping on her first cocktail, her eyes growing big at the sight.

"What are you doing? I thought we were at least trying to be inconspicuous."

"We are," John says before grabbing one of the bottles. "Nobody's even looking at us."

He takes a drag from his joint, and Abigail rolls her eyes. "Why would you risk getting in trouble with that? You can't get high anyway."

"I just like the taste," John says before opening the whiskey bottle and drinking from it as if it was water.

He's clearly baiting Abigail, but she doesn't lay into him for once, looking at Arthur instead. "Why do you always indulge him?"

"Maybe I just want to see how much his body can take before it falls apart."

Sadie laughs when John makes a face, and even Abigail fights a smile. Arthur pulls up his glass and pours himself a drink before pushing it over to Abigail.

"Think you can give it a little kick?"

Just like John, Arthur can't get drunk from alcohol alone, but being roommates with a witch has its perks. It didn't take them long to figure out that Abigail's magic can spice things up a little.

Abigail looks around as if to make sure that nobody's watching. Arthur's convinced that even if somebody does, they wouldn't care. Most people here are drunk, high, or otherwise engaged. Abigail shrugs before holding out her fist over Arthur's glass. She opens it up and then moves her finger in a circle. The liquid in the glass glows and moves with her finger, then a small puff of smoke goes up in the air.

"Thank you kindly," Arthur says, and Abigail smiles.

"I guess it's really pretty safe."

"Told you," John chimes in before pushing his bottle over to Abigail. "Now do mine."

Abigail frowns at him, venom in her voice when she speaks. "John Marston, when the hell will you finally learn some manners?"

"What? You did it for Arthur."

"He asked," Abigail spits, but before she can say more, Sadie jumps up.

"That's it, you two are killing my vibe. I need something to do. You coming, Arthur?"

The chances of John and Abigail getting into another fight is pretty high, so Arthur gets to his feet. "Right behind you."

They make their way downstairs, and Sadie keeps looking around as if she's searching for something in particular.

"You got a plan?" Arthur asks, and Sadie smiles.

"I think I do."

A few minutes later, they're standing beside a table that's filled with cups. Sadie found a few "easy boys" as she called them, and challenged them to a game of beer pong. While she's playing, Arthur stands to the side and enjoys the show.

Since Sadie doesn't even have a bloodstream the alcohol could get into, it's no trouble for her to have a drink or two. Not that it really comes to that. All of her balls hit their targets, and the "easy boys" don't stand a chance.

A few people come closer to the table, watching as Sadie's opponents do their best to beat her, one of them swaying dangerously from one side to the other. They didn't stand a chance from the start, but the drunker they get, the funnier it is to watch them try. After a while, even Arthur begins to feel his pumped up drink and cheers for Sadie. At least until a small figure appears next to him.

"Hey, big boy," the woman says, smiling at him.

She's wearing a tight black dress, her hair falling in waves over her shoulder. Arthur's eyes are drawn to her blood-red lips and then to her nails when she trails them along his arm.

"That is such a great costume. The fur looks so real."

"It is," Arthur says, regretting it a second later.

The red lady doesn't seem to care, though. She keeps touching him and looks up to him through her fake lashes. "I wish I would have dressed as Red Riding Hood. You could have been my big bad wolf."

A shiver runs down Arthur's spine, something he rarely gets to feel. "I- uhm," he starts while drawing a complete blank for what to say next.

"Told you, I'll win, honey," a familiar voice says, and Sadie grabs Arthur's arm before dragging him down to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Let's head back."

She doesn't give the red lady a second glance and pulls Arthur along. When they're out of earshot, Arthur sighs. "Thank you."

"You looked like you were about to pass out."

"I'm not even sure what she wanted."

Sadie laughs. "Climb you like a tree would be my guess."

"But why?"

"One of these days, we'll get you a nice box of self-esteem, and then you'll see." Sadie leans in, putting her lips right by Arthur's ear. "Big bad wolf."

"Just keep walking," Arthur grunts and maneuvers Sadie up the stairs.

Surprisingly enough, they find John and Abigail sitting on the same side of the table. Judging by Abigail's rosy cheeks, they buried the hatchet and gave John's bottle a little kick after all.

"You seem chipper," Sadie says, and Abigail shrugs.

"When you can't fight them, join them. Right?" Abigail says, looking back and forth between Arthur and Sadie. "What have you been up to."

"Sadie dragged some guys," Arthur says, and John and Abigail both laugh.

"They had it coming," Sadie says, waving her hand dismissively. "Way more important - Arthur got hit on."

"By who?" Abigail asks.

"Sexy vampire lady," Sadie says with a grin.

John leans back in his chair with an expression on his face like Christmas came early. "Bet you loved that."

"Just shut up," Arthur grunts before emptying his glass and reaching for his bottle to fill it right up again.

Abigail pats his arm. "She probably wasn't the one. Doesn't mean we can't keep looking."

"How about her?" John asks, nodding to a small group next to them. "The fairy. What do you think, Arthur?"

The woman in question is about Sadie's height, with long silvery hair. She's wearing a dress that looks like the wind blew up some leaves, and she walked away with the ones that got stuck.

"That I'd snap her like a twig."

"No, don't say that," Abigail says, and Sadie leans over the table to get a better look. 

"You think she's the real deal? That doesn't look like a wig, and she sure has the physique for a fairy."

They all stare at the woman now, but it's hard to tell if someone is a monster or not. After all, they might be pretty good at hiding, just like the four of them are.

"Bet you 5 bucks she's real," John says, and Arthur takes another look at her.

It's been a while that he ran into someone like them. To him, the fairy looks as real as the vampire lady.

"Fine, you're on."

"I say fake, too," Abigail says. "From what I can tell, there's no magic on her."

"You might be right, but I still bet on her being real," Sadie says, leaning around Arthur for a better view. "I wouldn't mind a little magic from her."

"Let's find out then," John says, and before Abigail can hold him back, he already stumbles over to the poor woman.

They don't understand what John's saying, but while the woman smiles at first, her expression quickly changes, and she slaps John before storming off. 

Despite the harsh treatment, John comes over with a smile. "Guess I was wrong. She's no fairy."

He throws money on the table, and Arthur pockets it while Abigail studies John's face.

"You just got slapped, and you lost the bet. What are you smiling about?" she asks.

"Fake fairy was very excited when I asked about her number for the pretty blonde at my table," John says, winking at Sadie. "She only slapped me when I asked if I could watch."

"You're an idiot," Abigail says, but Sadie jumps to her feet.

"You're a genius," she says, clapping John's shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

John sits down and takes a swig from his bottle. "One down, one to go. So, vampire lady, huh?"

Arthur only shakes his head. The last time John tried to set him up didn't end well, and Arthur has no desire to try again. 

"Why one to go?" Abigail asks. "What about me?"

"Oh, I know who you're going home with," John says, and by the way he looks at her, she and Arthur can tell what he means.

"No way," Abigail laughs, but Arthur has seen those signs before.

"I'll get another drink," he says, getting up from his chair.

Abigail shakes her head at John, who's still giving her what he might think are bedroom eyes before turning to Arthur. "Your bottle is practically full."

"You two take that one," Arthur says. 

He doesn't want to stick around. Either John and Abigail are going to fight again or they'll get along way better than Arthur cares to see. Although he's not that interested in going on the prowl, he'll rather take his chances in the crowd. Maybe he can find somebody nice after all. Everything, as long as it's not a vampire.

-------

When they leave two hours later, Arthur's just tired, Sadie has fake fairy's phone number in her pocket, and John and Abigail whisper and laugh with each other about things only they find funny.

Therefore, Arthur's happy when his phone lights up with an incoming video call.

"Hey guys, look," he says, waving the other's over before answering the call. "Hey, Hosea."

Their friend and somewhat father figure waves back at them. "Hello, Arthur. How are you doing?"

"We're just walking home from a party."

"Party, huh? That's smart. Blending in with the Halloween crowd."

Both John and Abigail break into fits of laughter, and Sadie huffs. It's funny to hear Hosea call John smart of all people.

"What are you up to this late?" Arthur says, trying his best to focus on Hosea.

"I'm meeting a friend, we're-"

Hosea trails off, and Arthur can see him look around.

"You're alright, Hosea?"

"Yeah, I just thought I-" Hosea starts, but then he looks away from his phone again, his eyes growing big. "Hey, what are you-"

The picture shakes, Hosea disappearing out of the frame. "Let me go," he grunts, then the image goes dark.

"Hosea," Arthur shouts, but his phone switches the screen, showing him that the call has ended.

"What the hell was that?" Sadie says, and John and Abigail both stare at Arthur, all happiness drained from their faces.

"I think someone attacked him," Arthur says, his whole body tingling at the words.

He looks down at his phone and finally has the sense to call Hosea back. It rings again and again, but nobody answers.

"What now?" John asks. "We should do something, right?"

"Find him, of course," Abigail says.

"Was he in the park?" Sadie asks. "I think I saw that ugly fountain in the background."

The picture of what they just saw comes up in Arthur's mind. "You're right, we should go. Maybe whoever he was about to meet wasn't a friend after all."

They quickly make their way along the street towards the nearby park. Another shiver runs down Arthur's spine, giving him a bad feeling. He'd never admit it out loud, but he doesn't believe that they'll find Hosea so easily. 

Something is very, very wrong.

[innately-pretentious]

Hello love!! Could I get a male HP ( any era ) stranger things and sherlock ship? I’m 19 years old and a hufflepuff. I’m 5’1” with short reddish dirty blonde hair. I’m curvy and very pale, I have been doing musical theatre for nearly nine years and dance for eleven years. I’m quite a nerd, i keep to myself but once you get to know me I’m really bubbly and weird and sometimes wild. I enjoy making others laugh. I have pretty bad anxiety so I tend to be nervous and paranoid. I put others needs before mine. Thank you so much my dear! Lots of love! Oh! Also I’d I already sent you one of these I’m so sorry I honestly can’t remember

I ship you with Remus Lupin!

The two of you would make such an adorable couple! One of the first things he noticed about you is your kind nature. Remus is not someone who cares majorly about physical appearances, preferring to get to know a person before he likes them. Being from Hufflepuff, kindness and loyalty is almost second nature for you, and he noticed. Looking out for the younger years and fellow peers around Hogwarts and helping classmates during classes was something the definitely gained his attention. It was only when the two of you were paired up in class together when you started really talking. Getting to know each other, he thought it was now or never. He shyly asked if you wanted to join him on his next trip to Hogsmeade, just the two of you. You of course accepted. 

As your relationship progresses, he starts to see your more bubbly side. You are initially shyer when it comes to meeting new people, which he can definitely relate to. The first few dates consisted of the two of you blushing and him fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater. However, as time went on, he started to see the real you. Hanging out more and more you realise you share the same sense of humour, letting your weird side out. He remembers the first time you made him really laugh. The two of you, sitting by the lake, talking complete nonsense as the sun began to set. Both of you giggling with tears in your eyes after something you just said, and when he regained his composure he couldn’t help but look at you in awe. Only the marauders have done that to him, he smiles at the memory. 

Speaking of the rest of the marauders, they love the effect you have on Remus. Whenever he comes back to the Gryffindor common room he is beaming, excitedly spilling to them what the two of you had gotten up to. James and Sirius teasing him as he rambles on. He was at first hesitant to introduce you to the rest of his friends, knowing how you do have a few walls put up before you get to know someone, he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. He honestly didn’t have anything to worry about though! After inviting you to the Gryffindor table to eat, you all get along like a house on fire. James, Peter and Sirius telling you embarrassing stories about Remus whilst he buries his head in his hands, the three of you laughing. He is surprised at how quickly they welcomed you into the group, making you feel as welcome as possible within the first few hours of you all meeting. You better believe the boys want to sneak into your common room and get up to some kind of mischief, much to Remus’ dismay. He often has to remind them all that you are his girlfriend, they can’t always tag along and that sometimes you need time alone!

Nights in the Gryffindor common room can go both ways. When it is just the two of you the night is more calm. You draped over him with your head on his chest as he absentmindedly combs his hands through your short hair. Both discussing various things that happened during the day, him listening intently and not interrupting, offering input or funny remarks when they are warranted. But when the rest of the boys are there? You bet you’re in for a night of not stop banter. Talking over one another, trying to get a word in edgeways, plus the boys trying to quiz you on your relationship. You don’t mind for the most part, but if it gets too personal, Remus is always there to tell them to back off. 

The song I associate with the two of you would be ‘Young Love’ by Mystery Jets and Laura Marling.

I ship you with Jonathan Byers!

Both of you would be so good together! 

He loves nothing more than driving absentmindedly with you, his hand resting on your thigh, soft music playing through his stereo. You often catch him glancing over at you, loving the way your short hair falls around your face as the wind from the open window blows it. You glance back at him with a small smile, telling him to focus on the road instead of you. He is usually very particular about what music he plays in his car, usually sticking to rock anthems of the 70s and 80s, but he has a soft spot for you. He allows you to put a few soundtracks to your favourite musicals on, smiling when you get excited about a particular favourite of yours. He definitely made a joint mixtape for the two of you to go on long car journey with. The perfect mix of classic rock and musical theatre to accompany you on your journey. 

The two of you are both slightly introverted, you prefer to enjoy each others company rather than going to a huge house party or bar. He loves nothing more than spending quiet nights in, just the two of you. Discussing what movie you are going to watch and curling up on the sofa together is his idea of heaven. Feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest with his arm wrapped around you, feeling safe and secure in the others presence. This is often how Joyce finds you when she comes home from work, turning the TV off as the credits are rolling down the screen, grinning as she knows her son has found someone who compliments him so well. After these events, the Byers quite literally welcomed you to the family. Inviting you to various holidays such as Christmas and New Years Eve, insisting that it is no trouble at all. She loves the way you interact with her son. Even if Jonathan is slightly embarrassed by him mum’s hands on approach, he is grateful that you feel so at ease in him home and around his family. 

If you have a spare day together, you often find yourselves in the local record shop. Loving the way his face lights up as he finds the latest album from his favourite band, excitedly turning it over and reading the track list. His family doesn’t have a bunch of money, therefore he often has to wait a few weeks before he can afford to splurge on a record he really likes. But if you have the spare cash, your kind nature often wins over, quietly buying it without him noticing. When you get back to the house you leave it somewhere in his room with a note for him to discover later. He always says that you should save your money for yourself, he can wait a few weeks until he has the right amount of money to buy it for himself. You always remind him that it is no problem, it’s your money and you wanted to do this. Whenever he puts the record on he is reminded of you, cheeks blushing as he smiles at the thought of you. 

He often finds you dancing in the kitchen in the morning, before he has woken up. You have taken dance for a considerable amount of time, therefore you are a natural. Softly dancing around the kitchen, making breakfast and coffee for the two of you. He leans on the door frame, completely enthralled by your simple moves, coming up behind you and snaking his arms around your waist. Resting his head in the crook of your neck and muttering a good morning. You can feel he is still slightly groggy from recently waking up, you can’t help but chuckle and lean into his sleepy embrace.

The song I associate with the two of you would be ‘Ivy & Gold’ by Bombay Bicycle Club.

I ship you with Sherlock Holmes!

This match would honestly be so good! You meet him whilst working on a case, after a brief meeting you find yourself running into him more and more. He is honestly surprised that you are more observant than most of the other people around him. You find yourself being dragged along on various cases, you find him looking at you expectantly, valuing your input on the confusing aspects. You were nervous at first, I mean, it was Sherlock Holmes you were working with. Your responses would only sound juvenile to him, you thought. But as you begin to work closer with him, he is glad to see you start speaking up more, offering your more down to earth explanations. He doesn’t mention it at the time, but he keeps your inputs in the back of his mind, deciding you are more useful around than not. 

There is definitely a height different between the two of you, Sherlock finds this especially amusing. When he is a rare goofy mood he will tower over you. Smirking to himself as you have to crane your neck to see him, chuckling at his antics. He can’t help but smile at you, its at one of these moments that he begins to fall for you. 

As time progresses you both begin to open up to one another. he will often call you late at night, rambling about his recent findings on a case, obviously restless. You honestly don’t mind and find it rather amusing, grateful that you are someone he thinks of getting in touch with. He only realises that it might be slightly inappropriate when he mentions it in a passing conversation to John. And, after being promptly scolded by him, telling him it is generally impolite to call someone at 3am, he offers you a rarely heard apology. Sometimes you still miss those phone calls. 

He always knows when you are feeling too overwhelmed or paranoid in certain situations, in fact he sometimes recognises the symptoms faster than you. Even if he is in the middle of cracking it, he often calls you a cab to take you home if you are stressed. Opening the door for you and putting you inside, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek, telling you to wait for him until he gets home, promising he will be back before dinner. 

You two rarely argue, but when you do, it’s generally about your safety. At first he never minded you coming on the more mundane cases, but as soon as he started getting more national attention, the cases become more challenging and even dangerous. Your will to put others first is both a blessing and a curse, he admires you for it greatly, but not when it comes to him. He can easily see you putting yourself in harms way in order protect him or even John, the thought itself scares him. He often gets very heated in the moment, demanding you to go home, leave him. It’s only because he is scared for you. When you are alone he will allow you to comfort him, telling him that you’re ok, you will always be safe and here for him. 

The song I associate with the two of you would be ‘1901′ by Phoenix!

[heller-mads]

howdy bubs,

(warning: i’m about to yell)

I FINISHED MY SHERLOCK REWATCH !!! HUZAH ! it only took two all-nighters and falling a wee bit behind in my french class BUT I FINISHED MY REWATCH !!!!!

seeing how much sherlock has changed over the years is just- UGH I LOVE HIM SM. this man i stj (swear to jack) he (alongside a multitude of other fictional characters) owns my heart

i MAYBE haven’t slept in uuuuhhh about 40 hours..? give or take (i woke up at around 07:30 yesterday and haven’t slept since (it’s currently 23:58 for me) so about 40-41 hours) BUT i plan on trying to sleep tonight so 👌

sherlock calling john his only friend is like ASKSNKEBAKMAKA - that. that is the written equivalent of the emotion i feel when i watch that scene

also side note from “The Hounds of Baskerville” : watching sherlock not even know lestrade’s name and then casually call him “Greg” in “The Final Problem” AND seeing him call other people his “friends” in it is just AAAAHHHH GROWTH.

(sorry i’m very worked/amped up right now. television shows tend to do that to me :/)

ANYWHO, i hope your mum and your family are okay ! stay safe !! (hopefully you don’t have to take the exam though-)

if you’re gonna tell me to drink water then i’m gonna say it right back. glugg glugg bub

(my pronouns are she/her 🙃)

wow. this was supposed to be short and straight to the point but look at me lol rambling on as always- sorry 😬

goodbye for now !

-🗡-

(i’m just realizing that i didn’t sign off the last one- whoops)

Hiya !!

Heck yeah !! I have until midnight tonight to watch 5 episodes, (it’s currently 10 00 am as I’m writing this) so it’s going to be a Sherlock filled day lol.

Also!! I thought about this yesterday after I posted my answer to your ask, but have you seen the mini episode of Sherlock, “Many Happy Returns” posted to youtube? It’s official and everything, but it’s like 7 minutes long and based in the time between The Reichenbach Fall and The Empty Hearse, seemingly before John meets Mary. Just thought that would pique your interest if you haven’t seen it!

You know what, I can’t be too mad because I’ve stayed up longer in one go for the simple reason of I wanted to see if I could do it lol. But yes, please get some sleep <3

And yesss!! Sherlock casually saying Greg in TFP gets me everytime, it’s so sweet!! Another favorite parallel is when Greg calls Sherlock a good man. I cry /every single time./

(Don’t worry about worked up over tv shows, I do it /all/ the time. I love seeing people express their feelings about something they love!)

Thankfully She doesn’t have Covid !! Most likely just a really bad case of the flu. Either way, we are all taking necessary precautions to keep from spreading the flu around. (Looks like I’m still taking my exam lol)

Please, even if you send a short ask, my answer will most likely take up a whole screen lol, don’t feel bad.

See ya !!

(and don’t sweat it, I could tell it was you haha)

[make-me-imagine]

I would love a ship please! For Stargate (SG1 or SGA) and Sherlock. With the prompts "Friends to Lovers" and "Fake gf/bf" however you see fit. I am female but don't care about the ships gender. I changed from working in science to being a science teacher. I love learning about anything and working out. People say I am loyal, determined, honest and analytical but can tend to be too ambitious / overwork. I am very fit and play soccer but also enjoy videogames and guitar. Flannel leather j. style.

Special 5k Ship Event (Read post if your going to request)

-

Hope you like them! I’m having a bit of trouble writing today so forgive me if the drabbles seem a bit lazy, I cant seem to focus on being creative today :/

Stargate: 

I ship you with Jack. He would appreciate your ambitious and determined behavior, but would chastise you if you overwork yourself. You two often work out together, and do outdoor activities on the weekends. He trusts you more than most people and knows that you always have his back, just as he has yours.

Prompt: Fake Boyfriend/Girlfriend 

You stared at the other people around you as you thought about how you got into this situation. Siting side by side with Jack, closer than you’ve probably ever been. You were stranded on a new planet, having been separated from the gate as well as the others due to a storm. The people in a nearby village took you in, though you found that they had an odd social behavior in which men and women could not associate unless married.

“Well, it’s a good thing we are married then” Jack had said, when the people first pointed out that you two were so close and that it was taboo.

You took a sip of the unusual drink one of the villagers had given you as Jack leaned in to whisper into your ear “We’ll stay here for the night and head back for the gate in the morning”

Nodding you noticed one of the village leaders smiling at you, returning the gesture he leaned forward a bit “I can see that you two have a strong bond, you must have been together for quite some time”

You and Jack shared a look before Jack smiled at the man “Oh, well, we’ve been together for about, two years, give or take” he said, taking a drink as you nodded along, ignoring your pounding heart.

Two years is as long as you had been working at the SGC, and two years since you met Jack. Two years since you developed feelings for him. Feelings that were returned by him. But though both of you knew of these feelings for each other, a relationship between you two was not allowed.

Knowing that he’d probably not get the chance again anytime soon, Jack wrapped his arm around your side, pulling you a bit closer. He knew that he could use the excuse that it was to keep up appearances, but, there was no need for excuses. Not around you, so instead he would cherish these intimate moments with you while he could.

After having been shown to  small cabin to sleep for the night, you and Jack stared at the small bed.

“Want to rock paper scissors for it? you asked as he began taking of his shoes.

“Nope”

“No?”

“Why would we?” he said as he sat on the bed “We’re married remember?” He glanced at you, smirk on his face “Besides, what if one of those snoopy villagers peaks in tonight and sees us separated like that? Can’t offend the locals now can we?” he relaxed lying back on the bed patting the area beside him “Now come on, we need to get some rest”

You stared at him for a moment, wondering when he got so brave. He really wanted to take this chance while he could didn’t he? Pushing back your nerves, you took off your shoes and lied down next to him.

Your bodies were touching as you lied in the small space, both of you staring up at the roof in silence. After a few minutes Jack broke the silence “Nice folks here, odd, but nice” 

You chuckled quietly at his attempt at conversation “Go to sleep Jack”

He smiled to himself at he use of his name, you only ever referred to him as Colonel, except on rare occasions, and every time it made his heart flutter. “Yes m’am” he muttered as he turned over, blowing out a lantern on the side table.

As you lied in the darkness, slowly drifting to sleep, you both thought silently of how you would keep the intimate touches at the dinner between you, there was really no need to go into detail on reports. Just like there was no need to mention you sleeping in the same bed, or how Jacks arms wrapped around you in the darkness as he held you against him throughout the night.

Sherlock: 

I ship you with John. He would find you to a refreshing presence in his life. You listen to his rambles and rants about something stupid Sherlock did, and he listens to you talk about your work and things that are stressing you out. He enjoys your company so much that he hates days when he cannot see you. Though he is not one for video games, he will play with you sometimes when he wants to cheer you up. 

Prompt: Friends to Lovers

Somewhere along the way, your’s and John’s nights-out to a bar to have dinner and rant about your day became less like two best-friends going out for a fun night, and more like date-night. 

And at some point, your quick walks home became John walking you home to make sure you got home okay. And then those walks became detours through the park as you two talked and laughed. 

One night, things changed even more so, not so suddenly, but naturally. You and John walking side by side, shoulders brushing. And as a large group of people went by, you two moved aside, backs up against a fence, Johns hand slipping into yours as he helped you maneuver past the crowd. 

Without even realizing, his hand never left yours. Not until you got to your apartment and he realized he had still been holing on to you. You shared a shy chuckled before you decided to give him a kiss on the cheek as a parting goodbye.

The next night out, you didn’t hold hands, but the cheek kiss became a normal thing, And eventually, hand holding did as well. You never talked about it up front, instead you relished in each others company and the gentle intimacy of your intertwined hands. It became so natural, so normal.

Until one day, when a man during a case you were helping out with decided to flirt with you. You patently and kindly went along with his conversation, not really responding to his flirty remarks.

Eventually, John, having picked up on the situation (after a hint from Sherlock), he came over to save you. Introducing himself to the man with a not so subtle annoyance at the mans presence. 

“So are you two colleagues?” the man asked, referring to you and John.

“Yes” John answered “And I’m her boyfriend” he added on quickly.

The man, having suddenly felt awkward, came up with an excuse before shuffling away.

You smiled, amused at his sudden departure. Turning to John you chuckled “Boyfriend huh?”

John smiled cheekily at you “Of course, it’s only natural. Us being together.” Taking your hand in his, he lead you out of the room, ignoring the smirk from Sherlock as you passed by. 

[guardmesherlock-rowan]

MC/Reader in a Swimsuit, the characters react

Anon:   Can you do a headcanon of the guys seeing MC in a swimsuit (btw I love your writing💕)

Of course!  (It’s also a nice distraction from the snow outside right now, also sorry if this is a little short)  These are post relationships

Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock.exe has failed.  

Rebooting.

You can be assured that others will talk to you before Sherlock will be able to approach you, as a slightly blushy mess rambling about the weather or chemical quality of the water.  There will be many times you will find him staring at you, it’s because he is memorizing everything he can about this moment.  As well as watching to make sure he will be able to intervene if the other guys try to start hitting on you.

  John Watson

You think he’s totally fine, he approaches you throwing his arm around your shoulders, and seems completely unfazed.  It’s only when others approach you two that you realize he’s holding you tighter against himself.  Later on he lavishes all the affection he held off on because it was inappropriate.  He will never tell you what kind of clothes to wear but there are times when he struggles with a part of himself that wants to keep you all to himself. 

   James Moriarty

It’s a struggle to keep him out of the room while you change, but he doesn’t let you leave until a full fashion show is completed.  He holds your hands every time you come out in a new one, posing you, having you spin for him to get a better look, with a smile on his face seemingly becoming a permanent fixture as he greedily takes in the sight of you.  You can try to limit how many of them you will end up keeping.  But you will still have more swimsuits than you think is necessary.  

   Mycroft Holmes

He gives you the softest smile, he will be lounging and reading, occasionally looking up to watch you.  At least that’s what you will see.  It’s only later when he’s adding photos to the scrapbook of the two of you that you’ll see that he had taken some really good candid photos of you.  If you express to him that you were disappointed in any lack of attention you better be ready to grab your swimsuit as the moment he is able to he will take you to an indoor pool for just the two of you.  His hands will be on you, he will be swimming after you, and he will threaten to throw you in the pool if only so he can see the charming expression you make for him. 

    Jack Stillman

The moment you get close enough he weaves his fingers through yours and holds your hand as tightly as he can.  Bringing you to the side and furthest away from the others.  He sits you down and takes his sweet time applying sunscreen anywhere that might need it, not minding how much you may get embarrassed.  He’s savoring this before having to release you to go socialize and be with your friends.  That said he would be the one to sneak up behind you under water to grab you by your sides to make you jump.

   Sebastian Moran

He thinks you’re cute, and will tell you as such.  You don’t need a swimsuit cover while heading to the pool side as he will insist on you wearing his hoodie in the meantime.  If anyone tries to take your photo (those darn paparazzi) he will pull up the hood and tell you to keep going while he goes and deals with them.  You have to hold his hand to keep him from wandering off to make sure no one is disturbing your privacy.  

     Jeremy Cassel

Selfies!  He would immediately press himself into you and take a photo of the two of you together.  If you are the type to not want any marks he will behave.  If not?  You will have a hickey on your shoulder before you’re even out of the house.  At that moment you’ve reminded him that not only are you the treasure of his life, but even more precious than any sunken treasure anywhere, and you’re there with him.  And he will tell you as such. 

   Hercule Poirot

That isn’t a big concern of his, though he will remind you to put on sunscreen and make sure you are feeling alright before going swimming.  He is also the kind to survey the people at the pool or check the weather before going to the beach.  Making sure there doesn’t look to be anyone sick that’s also going in, or any outbreaks among beach goers, so he knows you’re safe.  That said, he will still compliment you on your selection of swimsuits.  But you won’t know how much he really appreciates it until you’re back home and he offers to help you wash your hair and his hands wonder a little.

   Arthur Hastings

He gives you that little smile that is all your own.  He makes comments about how lovely you look, and how he’s sure fans would love you take a few photos and put them online, even offering to help with them.  After doing so he likes to sit next to you, his hand brushing against your arm so you know he’s there.  Or sitting on the side of the pool watching you swim.  Despite the fact that in his haste he forgot about sunscreen and is now turning a lovely shade of red. 

   George Lestrade

The man cannot get one word out at first.  He is staring, mouth a gape, and a deepening blush that he cannot conceal at all.  Does matter if it’s the first time or the 100th time, he is still blown away by how you look in your swimsuit and mumbles, eventually, how amazing you look.  He is all over you in public, and by that his arms are continuously around you or your arm is hooked with his.  Making sure that everyone knows you’re there with him.  If anyone comments on how you look he’s goes with it, gushing about how you have an impeccable sense of style.  And he is struggling to keep his eyes off you.  If you ask him to put sunscreen on you then Lestrade.exe will fail, and you’re better off applying it to him, and then yourself as by then he may have become responsive once more.

  Mikah Hudson (older version)

He is all smiles, arms around your shoulders or waist, excited to be escorting you anywhere.  Though firstly, he makes sure that you have sunscreen on to protect you.  But he is still young and likes to be silly. He will carry you and jump in the pool with you in his arms so he can spin around, splashing everywhere (and potentially getting into a little bit of trouble) just so he can also make you smile and laugh.  Which is his absolute favorite thing in the world, so much so that he could forget where you two are, what you two are wearing, and he will kiss you because of how beautiful you are when you laugh.

 Henry Jekyll

Do not ask him where the sunscreen has come from.  He applies on you, dipping under the edges of your swimsuit, though his expression is absolutely schooled and focused.  He will not let on if he’s becoming flustered or not.  Double checking that you have everything before leaving to make sure that there won’t be any emergencies while you two are out.  He holds your hand the moment you two leave, and he sneaks a few quick kisses to your cheek with a soft sorry each time.  If you ask him why he’s apologizing he admits it because he is finding it hard not to be affectionate because you look so excited to go swimming.  He promises to make sure he behaves once you two get where you’re going.

  Edward Hyde

THIS MAN HAS NO CHILL.  It’s better if you meet him there because if you change at your place or his and try to go anywhere from there he just wants to hold you and kiss you and other things until the two of you are running late.  When you do meet him there he will pick you up and spin you around excitedly, despite the scolding he gets for rough housing.  He will want you to hold onto him while he swims so he can give you a ride.  Because it makes you smile, and because your body is pressed against him in those moments. 

  ‘Irene’ (based off of the conwoman headcanon)

She asks you if you don’t mind if she makes a few adjustments.  Going through the motions to make sure it’s tied in areas or sitting where it needs to be, she wants to make sure you don’t have mishaps while you two are out.  She takes selfies with you using your phone and posting them on your social media to make sure people see you’re with her.  Queen of gentle touches as she brushes your hair aside to put sun screen on you, turning around so you can return the favor.  While she may not be so hands on in public she does like to either be sitting next to you, hip to hip, or watching you with a gentle smile as you swim.  Though the closest thing to getting into water will be sitting on the edge of the pool with her legs dangling in.  

(please like, comment, and/or reblog to let me know what you thought and to let others know my blog is still alive)

[retvenkos]

It got deleted! Fire for the Marauders, Sherlock and SW (any era), guy preference, I'm a girl! I usually hate talking about myself and would rarely share but I'm kind and caring to people. Slytherin and proud. Bookworm who also likes movies. Hate chaos above all, I always have some kind of a schedule in my head. I analyze every detail and am a bit shy, I like being alone but don't mind people. Truly inexperienced in the romantic stuff. INTJ. A bit shy but would making jokes and sarcastic comment

Marauder Era:

I ship you with Remus Lupin!

Alright so you and Remus are the responsible friends of the group, actively bringing down the chaos levels (which, without you, would be insufferable). Together, the two of you bring some semblance of order to the Marauders lives, and trust me, it's much appreciated.

I have no doubt that the two of you met thanks to the bumbling idiot that is James Potter - you and James were paired together for a class in your first year, let's say astronomy, and he gets so behind in the class that the teacher has YOU get him back on track - something about a peer influence. Anyway, you march up to Gryffindor tower to find James and maybe,,,, I don't know,,,, get him to do his homework,,,, and he's hanging outside the portrait hole, making jokes with his friends. You try your best to be reasonable, and your just shy enough to not be rude or anything, but James and Sirius were infuriating first years and they didn't listen to you at all.

When you leave, defeated, Remus runs up after you and tells you he'll try to get James to do his Astronomy homework. You say thanks, and two weeks later, James seems to have taken whatever the brown haired boy said to heart, because he's doing his homework consistently. You decide it's high time you thank this guy for his service, and you start to write him a thank you letter (much less embarrassing than a verbal apology - this way you can't stutter over your words or anything) when you realize you don't know his name. Damn. So now you have to thank him in person, and you approach him before potions. You thank him and he's sheepish and humble about it. Then, before you leave, you make sure to ask him for his name - just in case. Remus Lupin. You tell him yours and that's the end of that.

You see him through the halls in your second and third years, and it isn't until your fourth year that the two of you have reason to speak to each other. You have Potions together, and your partners. For a whole two to three weeks the two of you are pleasant to each other but don't really talk much. Neither of you are great at starting conversations, and it isn't until you see James and Peter pull a very obvious prank on a Slytherin, and Remus cover for them that you actually have something to say to him. "You clearly just lied to the professor." "Me?" And you scoff, but all Remus says is "He doesn't know that, though. Will you keep my secret?" "Sure. Consider it part of my thanks for first year." And you don't think Remus would remember but he does.

After that, the two of you end up talking more, and your crush on the quiet, mischievous gryffindor grows. One time, you hear him arguing with Sirius, defending you, specifically, saying that not ALL slytherins are evil - you certainly aren't.

It's by fifth year that your crush is full blown, and when you have dada with the Gryffindors, you get a little sidetracked by Remus, and when a good friend of yours notices, they tease you mercilessly.

Meanwhile, the marauders are teasing Remus, because he too has a crush on you - one that makes him blush terrible and renders him tongue tied when you're nearby

One day you're walking to the quidditch pitch for the game, and your friend is teasing you terribly about your crush on Remus. You're digging your head into your scarf to hopefully hide your blush, when you run right into Remus. Your friend is quick to fall silent, but you're sure it's a little too late for that. He's no doubt heard.

But.... it's not? Or at the very least, Remus doesn't mention it, just apologizes with a bashful blush and keeps going.

Little do you know, Remus definitely heard it, and now Peter and Sirius are exasperated asking him why he didn't say anything when it was the perfect opportunity. He says it wasn't the right time! You were already thoroughly embarrassed. But now that he knows you like him back.... well, it bodes well for his confidence, which needs all the help it can get.

He approaches you one day in the library, days before the end of school. You're sitting at a table in the corner, actually relaxing for once, a favorite novel in front of you, and Remus hesitantly slides in across from you. For a long while, the two of you just read your own books, until you finish a chapter and look up at Remus. You say you have something for him - a letter, since school is ending soon. You start rambling about how you're going on a trip and it would be fun to write to eachother since you both appreciate history and you'll be going to a few museums and Remus smiles gently and says he'd love to write to you.

You smile, and Remus starts to tell you that he has the biggest crush on you, but he can't being himself to do it, so he talks about his summer plans, too.

When he gets back up to gryffindor tower he's kicking himself because he didn't tell you how he feels, but then he remembers your letter, and he decides to open it.

And in the letter, you tell him how you're almost certain that he heard your friends teasing that day before the quidditch match, when you bumped into him, but in case he didn't (or didn't believe it) you wanted to put the record straight - you like him, and you're terrible with words, so putting it in a letter is the best way you know how to tell him and not completely embarrass yourself.

And Remus runs back to the library to tell you that he got your letter and that he likes you - really likes you - back.

And hell yeah you write letters to eachother over the summer it's vvv sweet.

ANYWAY, you and Remus are a perfect match for each other I'm in love with the idea.

Sherlock:

I ship you with John Waston!

Okay, so both of you have such similar temperaments, I can really see the two of you working out.

You're both introverted, sarcastic, incredibly caring, detail oriented, and bookworms. While John isn't as scheduled as you are (how can you be with a friend like Sherlock Holmes?), he definitely sees the importance in routines and likes doing things in more practical and sensible ways.

Both of you are naturally curious, fairly versatile, and very determined, which makes for a good relationship since your traits and values match up.

I think that John would love the steadiness you being to his life - you are predictable and calm, and you're also independent and able to take care of yourself. John had a lot to worry about on the daily, so the fact that you are reliable is good for him. It allows for a lot of peace of mind.

John would be the one to bring you more in touch with your emotional side - he's a very emotional person, and also very mature. He would bring in a lot of interesting elements to the relationship - simultaneously bringing you out of your comfort zone while also validating your limits and respecting them. You would be an interesting couple to watch.

I love the idea of the two of your writing together for his blog - or you acting as a beta reader and helping him come up with names for each case. The two of you like to sneak in witty jokes and one of your favorite pastimes is seeing how many nonsensical things about Sherlock you can include.

Also! I imagine that your rational though process and your attention to detail is helpful in cases, sometimes, since Sherloxk can get so caught up in the moment and disregard certain elements that might have come in handy. Otherwise, you're great at remembering little things to put in the blog, which makes Sherlock smile.

And may I suggest..... watching movies with John Watson. For once, he is glad he doesn't have Sherlock talking in his ear, going on about the inaccuracies or about how ridiculous it all is. BUT, he finds himself telling you some of the things that Sherlock would say, and the two of you talk through the movie, chatting about what tropes you think are washed up, and what dynamics you love to death.

When you read, though, it's a different story and the two of you are quiet. John will make you a tea or coffee and you spend the day on the couch, just reading and enjoying the other's presence.

Star Wars:

I ship you with Commander Cody!

Alright, but we support clones on this blog, and commander Cody is one of the best clones.

First of all, both of you are very similar. Both of you are smart, determined, thoughtful and versatile people who would work well in sync with one another. You're not the most trusting of people, but one your loyalty is earned, it's earned for life and you would lay down your life for the other. You are both strong willed people, and yet you also carry a deep tenderness to you.

Cody absolutely loves how well read you are - he loves to listen to your stories (especially if they have a good, soft ending) and he loves the way you look at books - the little details you remember, the ideas that you hold onto. It's a great escape for him, listening to you talk about the novels you've read or listening to you read aloud. This world goes so fast and there's so much evil that he sees, so to hear something good - something slow that progresses to a happy ending - means the world to him. It's a little bit of softness he allows himself.

He also loves your shyness. He thinks it's cute, how someone so smart and strong - someone who by all means should have a healthy amount of confidence - is quiet and mostly goes under the radar. It's also a nice compliment to his more commanding presence.

You are both just humble enough to have great respect while also being just outgoing enough when you're in the right setting, and it's perfect. There's never confusion between the two of you over why you're more quiet in some places or more extroverted in others. You just understand the other.

You are also just so caring of others - Cody cared for his brothers more than anything in the world, and to find someone just as caring is good for him. He loves with his whole heart, and he's glad you do, too.

Oh, and the two of you together? The most sarcastic - the galaxy was unprepared for your combined energies, and it's been unstable ever since.

I also can't get enough of you together in the field - maybe you're a Jedi or a recruit pilot or something, but the two of you fighting together is peak. You're both smart and practical in your approach to things, and you're also very determined and ambitious - you would always have each others backs and you approach problems in the same way, so you work efficiently as well.

But, then again, the quiet moments the two of you share are pretty sweet - you force Cody into watching movies with you, and he actually gets really into them. He loves sci fi and fantasy, and he probably really likes silent films or foreign films too. Idk why, I just get the vibes.

Oh! And if you ever want a good laugh, ask Cody about the shenanigans that Obi-Wan pulls througho it the day. He gets so exasperated by all the little things that the Jedi pulls, and listening to him rant about them is very funny.

[honeypiehotchner]

Deception (John Watson x OFC) -- part sixteen

Hi...uh...you aren’t going to like this part. Or the next. Don’t say I didn’t warn you! The time has come for shit to hit the fan.

Tomorrow.

           Mycroft called and said tomorrow is the day Sherlock returns. Well, the day he plans to reunite with John, that is.

           Apparently Sherlock is already in London, but he needs rest and to clean himself up before he can do anything. Mycroft has managed to make his younger brother agree to rest for the night and not cause any havoc until tomorrow. I’m not even sure why Mycroft did that. Part of me suspects it is his way of being nice, if you can believe it, by giving me one last day with John. But the other part of me wonders if he’s doing it genuinely just for Sherlock.

           His text that followed our phone call did allude to him doing it for me, but not for the reason I want. He wants me to tell John the truth about me on my own. But I can’t do that.

           Speaking of John, he’s been acting more than strange lately. Not in a way that has me concerned for his mental state, but in a way that…I wasn’t expecting.

           Just yesterday he offhandedly mentioned “our” home. As in, a house we’d buy together one day – soon, too, if his tone is anything to go off of. When I asked him about it, he said he was just rambling. But I could tell by his face that he wasn’t.

           If circumstances were different, if I wasn’t who I am and if John—Well, John is perfect. It’s all on me. If I wasn’t undercover. If I wasn’t “retired.” If I wasn’t working for Mycroft. If he and I were a normal couple, I would’ve pressed the conversation further, but I didn’t. Because I don’t know where it might lead and I’m not too sure I’d like to find out.

           I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach of where it might lead and what John might be thinking about. It’s as plain as day. For any normal couple, it’s the obvious next step, especially at our age.

Marriage.

           We can’t marry. Hell, I don’t even know if he will want to speak with me after tomorrow, when Sherlock returns and the truth comes out. I can try to dream all I want and get my hopes up in thinking that John won’t care, that his love for me will wash away the lies, but even I can’t get myself to believe something so foolish.

           He wanted to go out tonight, just to get take-away, but I convinced him to stay in with me and help me cook something. I want one last night of normalcy. One last night of making dinner with the one I love, of sharing glasses of wine and making out on the couch. Which is what I have planned.

           “You know, we could’ve gone out, and then we wouldn’t have all these dishes,” John comments, a smirk on his lips.

           I give him a look as I start the dishwasher. “I just wanted a quiet night in.” I pause. “We can go out tomorrow.”

           “Actually…” John pauses, pulling me forward by my hands until I’m standing in front of him, leaning into his body. “I have a reservation for us.”

           “A reservation?” I question, trying to keep my voice neutral. The wine is helping with that, but my heart is beginning to knock wildly against my ribcage. “Where?”

           “It’s a surprise,” he tells me, squeezing my hands. He presses a kiss to my nose. “And it’s fancy.”

           “Fancy, hm?” I giggle, shaking my head so he’ll stop peppering kisses all over my face. “Why somewhere fancy? You know I don’t mind greasy diners.”

           “Yeah, I know,” he laughs. “But we never get dressed up. I think we should, every once in a while.”

           “Hm,” I nod, wrapping my arms around his torso. I rest my head against his chest, closing my eyes. I know where this is going. And I know I can’t stop it. “What time?”

           “Is seven good?”

           I lift my head to look up at him, smiling. “Seven’s perfect.”

           John lowers his lips to mine, his hand cradling my face, his kiss tender. It’s what I will miss the most when I have to say goodbye.

+++

John wasn’t kidding when he said the reservation he has for us is fancy.

           I wore the fanciest, most expensive dress Mycroft gave me when he gave me these clothes, and I still feel out of place here. John’s in a tux, looking as stunning as ever, and seeing him this way breaks my heart into a million pieces. Still, I keep my smile steady and my hand clasped in his until we’re sitting at our table.

           We look like a proper couple. All around us, tables for two are filled with couples looking hopelessly in love, and we blend right in. Seamlessly.

           “This is too much, John,” I whisper over my menu. “You spoil me.”

           “What else am I good for?”

           I raise an eyebrow cheekily. “I can think of a few things.”

           His eyes widen in surprise, and a soft pink tint dusts his cheeks. I snicker behind the menu, holding it up like a shield against John’s burning gaze.

           “I meant you’re a good listener, get your mind out of the gutter!”

           “I’m sure that’s exactly what you meant,” he replies, disbelief covering his face. “Behave! We’re at a fancy restaurant.”

           “You should’ve known better than to take me out in public,” I tease him, my foot sliding up his leg. “You know how I am.”

           He gives me a warning look, but the fire behind his eyes is unmistakable. “You’ll be the death of me, woman.”

           “That’s the goal,” I grin, retracting my foot back into my own personal space. “I’ve never been here, what do you suggest I get?”

           John is used to my rapid subject changes by now, so he takes it in stride, pointing out a few things he thinks I’d like to eat. There’s a nervous disposition about him tonight, but my little attempt at playing footsie with him has him riled up, no doubt.

           “You know,” I lean forward, probably breaking all rules of etiquette as my elbows rest on the white table cloth. “I don’t think I’ve said it yet tonight, but you look ravishing in that tux.”

           “And you look gorgeous in that dress,” he replies lowly. “Is it new?”

           “Not at all, why?”

           “Just wondering how much you’d miss it if I rip it later.”

           “John Hamish Watson!” I hiss, my cheeks going red. He’s got a grin on his lips like he’s the cat that caught the canary and I want nothing more than to tackle him. “Well played.”

           “Thank you,” he chuckles. His hand reaches across the table, so I let him take mine. “I love you.”

           I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips. “I love you, too.”

           Out of the corner of my eye, I see a tall figure walking toward us, and my heart practically punches me in the throat. After a moment longer, he turns the other way. I sigh in relief.

           I know today is the day, but does it have to be here? Sherlock must be duller than I thought.

           “Jane,” John says, pulling me back to reality. “I wanted to ask you something.”

           “Okay,” I squeeze his hand, not paying much attention. “What is it?”

           I try my best to focus on John’s words, I really do, but the tall man is back, and it’s definitely Sherlock who is definitely making his way toward our table. I catch a few of John’s praises, something about me being, “the greatest thing” or something, but I’m too busy bracing myself for Sherlock’s inevitable entrance.

           And I was right. Sherlock is duller than I thought.

           He also has an absolutely horrid French accent. “Sir, I think you’ll find this vintage  exceptionally to your liking. It has all of the qualities of the old with some of the color of the new.”

           I can’t help but laugh. Between John’s look of annoyance and Sherlock’s insanely terrible accent, it’s a comedy. A terrible comedy, but one nonetheless.

           “No, sorry, not now, please.” John looks ready to punch him. And I’m afraid it’s only a matter of seconds before he does.

           “Like a gaze from a crowd of strangers,” Sherlock continues, “suddenly one is aware of staring into the face of an old friend.”

           John stands, his fist punching the table and I know it was meant for Sherlock’s face originally, but John has gotten better at handling his temper. I think, at least, until I see the look he gives his not-dead best friend.

           Oh, fuck, we’re doing this now. Right now. Shit. Okay.

           Sherlock removes his glasses – or whoever’s glasses, they’re obviously not his, but that isn’t important – and keeps talking. “Interesting thing, a tuxedo.”

           John looks back at me. My face falls. It’s happening.

           “Lends distinction to friends and anonymity to waiters,” Sherlock says.

           “Sherlock, stop fucking talking,” I hiss, hitting his arm. The last thing I need is these two in the middle of a brawl in London.

           John’s wide eyes turn to me. “You know him?”

           “Hardly,” I scoff.

           But surprisingly, John’s focus isn’t on me knowing Sherlock. It’s on his best friend. He clenches his jaw, and every muscle in his body is being used to hold back from decking Sherlock right here in this restaurant. I’m not sure how long he’ll be able to hold himself back.

           “For two years,” John says shakily. “I thought—I thought, you were dead. Now, you let me grieve,” John says thickly, glaring at Sherlock. “How could you do that? How?”

           “Right, before you do anything that you might regret,” Sherlock says slowly, and he glances at me, as if I’m the one he needs to be worried about right now.

           It’s a momentary lapse where I’m not focused on keeping John’s anger at bay, when John loses it, and tackles Sherlock to the floor.

           It’s a mess. I scramble after them, losing a heel in the process and kicking the other off out of frustration. The owner and I pull John off of Sherlock, which is about as easy as pulling gum out of a five-year-old’s hair, and I shove him away, toward the entrance.

           Sherlock is standing to his feet with a busted lip while I run after John, reaching for his shoulder once we’re outside. John looks as if I’ve slapped him when he turns around to face me.

           “John…” I shake my head, my eyes welling with tears. “Please, love, let me explain.”

           “Explain?” He hisses, taking a step back from me. “You know him. How do you know him? Tell me. Right now, or so help me God—”

           “God’s not going to help you, John,” Sherlock interrupts, pressing his handkerchief to his lip. “And neither is she.”

           John looks ready to lunge at Sherlock’s throat again, so I step in front of him, forcing him to look at me. “Let’s go home. Let’s talk about this.”

           “We’re going to talk about it,” he says firmly. “But we’re not going home. We’re talking right here, right now.”

           “John, please,” I reach for his arm again, catching myself and pulling back. “Not here. Please. We’ve caused a big enough scene as it is. Let’s go someplace else.”

           It takes some convincing, but soon the three of us are walking down the sidewalk to a smaller restaurant. One where we’ll hopefully find some quiet.

           It’s going to be a long night.

[waitedforgarridebs]

Radio (1994): Merrison & Williams

The 3GAR adaptation that’ll shatter your heart into a million pieces

Clive Merrison and Michael Williams were the first pair of actors to play Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson who got to dramatise every single story of the entire canon – all four novels and 56 short stories.

In 1987, Bert Coules pitched a screenplay of HOUN to the BBC, which was greenlit and produced for radio with Roger Rees and Crawford Logan as the two lead actors. As this show ended up being a great success, Coules suggested to keep the series going, and the BBC agreed – however, they insisted on recasting. Eventually, the popularity of the show led to the decision to adapt literally every single canon story, and for the first time they actually managed to successfully achieve this feat over the course of the next 9 years. The Merrison-Williams-series ran on BBC Radio 4 from 1989 until 1998.

As Williams unfortunately died way too young in 2001, he could not continue his part as Dr Watson for the series of original stories written by Coules, “The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes”. This sequel still got commissioned during his lifetime, and while the production team set everything on hold to wait until Williams got better, sadly this never happened. He eventually was replaced by Andrew Sachs for the last 15 stories of this series.

While Coules remained as lead writer of the show, he was supported by various other writers for this quite massive project. The adaptations of the stories are in their core quite true to the books: The characters’ lines were updated to a more modern sounding language, and filler scenes were written to expand especially the shorter, less dense cases to the runtime of 45 minutes per episode.

For Coules and his team, the Holmes stories are not primarily detective stories. They are stories about a detective – and, more than that: They are stories about a detective and his only friend. Watson isn’t considered to be a bumbling sidekick, but an actual co-lead.

(And yes, I am basically quoting Coules himself from an interview done for the “I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere” podcast, so I do not know if Moftiss nicked that pitch from him or vice versa.)

In order to stay true to every story’s essence, the writers were “imaginatively faithful” to the original cases. They would, for example, sketch out the backstory and all the inciting incidents leading up to a client’s inquiry at 221b, and dramatise a bit of the story Doyle only mentioned in passing, but never actually wrote down. Or they would invent new scenes, sometimes even new endings, whenever they thought the original version wasn’t as effective as it could have been.

The reason I am putting all of this over the cut is to make you aware of the fact that the changes in the story were all done with a purpose – in this case, to amplify its emotional impact.

Because, without this background knowledge, their changes to 3GAR appear to be absolutely devastating. Cruel, even.

Can I just start by saying that I love Merrison’s Holmes and Williams’ Watson?

Their chemistry is incredible. They breathe so much life into these two characters! They banter, they laugh, they at times even mock a particularly annoying client when said client can’t hear them – and sometimes even when they can *coughs* Killer Evans – and I regret not having listened to their entire work as of yet. 

(But that’s a good resolution for the new year if there ever was one!)

And, one thing I can say for certain: This Holmes is 100% in love with his Watson.

It is the “desperately unspoken” dynamic of TPLoSH all over again, but maybe a little less repressed. Also, Watson – again – has his three-continent-reputation to defend. They are stupid idiot boys, they don’t fucking TALK to each other, and it’s driving me up the wall, but at least they do very much consider each other family, and that is a really great step into the right direction.

That being said, do not listen to this version of 3GAR if you don’t have the time to be emotionally compromised after finishing it.

This adaptation first aired on October 26, 1994.

As mentioned earlier, the writers – in this case David Ashton – did add a bit of backstory as well as some filler scenes to stretch the episode over the entire runtime: the introduction shows how Evans shot Prescott, featuring seemingly indifferent, almost John-Mulaney-esque barkeepers, who are so very chill about the entire murder-thing happening in front of their eyes. “Oh, what is it about Friday nights, ey?”

Ashton not only gives characters like Saunders lines, but writes whole scenes just for them, and even paces longer exposition bits quite nicely by, for example, having the American John Garrideb start the explanation about the search for the third Garrideb in Baker Street, and Nathan Garrideb finish it by excitedly rambling about his impending fortune at the exasperated Saunders.

Not only pleasant filler scenes like these were added, however.

You see, there is a running theme throughout this episode: At the beginning, Holmes is quite his usual self, and mocks the concept of love, human connection, and relationships. He and Watson see a young couple in the park, the bloke teasing the girl and playfully stealing ... her ... hat ... *muffled screaching noises* ... and Holmes compares the couple to pidgeons: “The male puffs out his chest and the female runs around in circles.” Watson, as ever, doesn’t seem too opposed to the idea of having a woman in his life, and Holmes simply ends up pointing out that the couple is having their date quite close to where the gallows used to be. Charming as ever.

Throughout the episode, Holmes is confronted with the idea of love and companionship again and again, in very different scenarios, and gradually warms up to it. Which, looking at where the episode is headed – Watson realising that there is a heart behind the cold mask – is actually a beautiful thing to do, and certainly does make sense.

However, one morning Watson has business of his own to attend to. And that’s where the heartbreak sets in: In an added scene, they show Watson ring-shopping. 

(Not for Holmes, obviously. He seems to have met someone and plans on getting engaged, again. Very rude.)

So, while Holmes keeps realising that being alone all the time is not good for him, that he actually wants someone in his life, the only person who could fill this void runs around with a little box hidden in his coat pocket.

But, it gets worse.

Remember when I teased in the post about the Hobbs-Shelley-adaptation (x) that there is yet another way to include Watson’s internal realisation after getting shot? As in, neither putting it as a summary at the beginning nor at the end of the episode?

I was talking about this one.

Merrison’s Holmes, in my opinion, has the most emotional reaction to Watson getting shot. He literally panics. 

(And the fact that there are a couple of seconds of complete and utter silence after he rushes to Watson’s side really does not help!)

HOLMES: Watson, you’re not hurt! For god’s sake, say you’re not hurt! WATSON, in pain: Ugh... oh... almost worth it.  HOLMES: ... what!? WATSON: The pain. To see that look on your face. A great heart... as well as a great mind. HOLMES: Nonsense... I was merely worried about the surgeon’s bills. WATSON, bellows out a single laugh. HOLMES, tenderly: Here. L-l-let me look. WATSON: Oh no, it’s nothing Holmes. I should know it. It’s just a scratch. EVANS, groans in the background. WATSON: Did you shoot the fellow? HOLMES: No. The second shot was his also. But I laid my revolver along the side of his head. Wild West, indeed. – Watson, you are certain? WATSON: It’s just a scratch, Holmes. Honestly.

Then, Holmes first turns into the Hulk and then towards Evans, and if I ever heard a man speak through gritted teeth, then this is it.

And that following exchange features, honestly, the best non-canonical line of dialogue in Holmesian history:

EVANS: Say, what did you hit me with? HOLMES, not missing a single beat: JUSTICE!

But... it gets worse.

Evans gets arrested, and we get to see Watson and Holmes in Baker Street after the incident, where Holmes dresses Watson’s wounds – or at least he tries to, until Watson insists on doing it on his own, because Holmes is rubbish at it. Holmes then starts pacing around in the living room like an expectant father, “But is there nothing I can do??”

Watson tells him that he’d very much like to smoke a cigar, which leads to Holmes rummaging in the pockets of Watson’s coat.

And you’ve guessed it: Of course he finds The Box.

Cue: awkward moment where Watson tells him, for the first time, about his plans to get re-married.

And Holmes starts sulking, because Watson is about to leave him alone. Again.

But, it gets worse!

Suddenly, Lestrade calls. Holmes at first thinks this is about a case mentioned in passing earlier in the episode, but it is actually news about Nathan Garrideb: As you know, he didn’t take it too well that he never found a third Garrideb in Birmingham, and Lestrade now informs Holmes that Nathan got sent to a mental asylum. 

And... Holmes and Watson visit him there!

They happen to meet Saunders in Nathan’s room, who sadly ponders about the fact that Nathan was always so lonely during his lifetime, and that this isn’t healthy, and that this certainly contributed to the fact that his mind now snapped. 

Nathan eventually has a moment of clarity and recognises Holmes. After gifting his collection of bees to Holmes (...), he hopefully asks if Holmes came to tell him that he found the third Garrideb after all. Holmes, of course, has to decline, but he promises Nathan to find the man, if he exists.

But how, Nathan then exclaims in despair, can Holmes not know this! Holmes must know! He must know everything!!

So, the episode where Watson realises that Holmes does, in fact, love him, ends with an emotionally crushed and forsaken Holmes pondering about his retirement and keeping bees.

And that, my friends, is the most heart-breaking adaptation of 3GAR I have ever listened to.

[sophiaholmes221b]

Sophia Holmes and the Study in Pink

Chapter Eight 

I stand on the stairs for a few seconds, wiping away the tears until I hear the door slam shut downstairs, then I go back into the living room and try to look as emotionless as usual.

"He'll be back in a minute," I say casually, and I'm pleased to hear that my voice has stayed level. John nods from his seat in front of the laptop.

"Any idea what's up?" Lestrade asks, and I shrug.

"He's just gone somewhere quiet so that he can think."

"Okay, well I'll try ringing the mobile, and maybe we can find the phone from there," John says, and I nod, not really paying any attention. 

Outside, I can hear the cab pull away and I know dad is inside it. 

John hears it as well and looks out of the window. "He just got in a cab," he tells Lestrade. "It's Sherlock. He just drove off in a cab."

Donovon tuts in irritation as walks to join Lestrade. "I told you, he does that," she says to John. "He bloody left again." She walks back into the kitchen, shouting orders, but I block her out, too worried as I look out the window to reply.

'Caring is not an advantage', as I've been told many times by dear Mycroft, but I can't help it. He cares about my dad, so I should be allowed too.

"I'm calling the phone. It's ringing out," John says to Lestrade. I listen for the ring, but I can't hear anything.

"If it's ringing, it's not here," Lestrade says as John lowers his phone and reaches for the computer.

"I'll try the search again." John says firmly.

"Does it matter?" Donovon asks Lestrade, coming over to confront him. "Does any of it? You know, he's just a lunatic, and he'll always let you down, and you're wasting your time. All our time."

I let another tear slip down as she criticises him, but I wipe it away as Lestrade sighs. "Okay, everybody. Done 'ere." As his officers pack up and gradually leave, Lestrade turns to me. "Why did he do that? Why did he have to leave?"

"I told you: he just needed to go somewhere quiet to think. He probably solved the case while he was down there and left to chase down our killer; you know what he's like."

"I've known him for five years and no, I don't."

"So why do you put up with him?" John asks.

"Because I'm desperate, that's why." He walks to the door and turns back around. "And because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think one day, if we're very, very lucky, he might even be a good one." I laugh half-heartedly, and Lestrade sends me a pitying look. "Call me if you need me, yeah?"

As I nod, he turns and leaves John and I sitting quietly together, just staring at the screen of dad's laptop as the clock ticks away.

"What is up with your dad, Sophia?" John asks me after a moment. I bite my lip, unsure whether or not to tell him. "Come on, you need to tell me if you know something."

"That taxi we were chasing earlier ..." I trail off, looking out of the window as I feel the tears welling up again.

John looks at me, a comforting look in his eyes. "Yeah, what about it?"

I clear my throat and look back at him. "The cabbie: he's the murderer, and dad's just gone off with him." John sits back, his eyebrows drawn in a mixture of surprise and worry. looking surprised and worried. "I tried to stop him..." I choke on my tears and turn away.

John places a comforting hand on my shoulder and bites his lip, unsure of what to do. "Don't you know where he's going?" I shake my head and wipe away the tears. "Well ..." he trails off, looking around the room for inspiration, "... we could always try and track the cab - I still have the number."

I nod, hopelessly. It's not going to work, but it's worth a try and it'll keep me occupied. With a final swipe, I wipe the tears away and head downstairs for my coat. John comes down a few minutes later, clutching dad's laptop and looking triumphant.

"Found it?" I ask, all emotion cleared from my voice again.

He nods. "Yeah, he's still on the move."

"Then his murder spot will be quite far out. Where's he at the moment?"

John shrugs and I lead him out onto the street, hailing a taxi as it sails down the road.

"Where to, Miss?" he calls.

"I don't actually know!" I titter falsely. "I lost my phone and it's giving me directions on where to find it. Do you think you could take us there, please?"

The cabbie smiles kindly at me. "Yeah, sure, love. I've got nothing else -"

"Lovely," I say, cutting off his rambling and getting in. John sits in beside me and starts giving the cabbie directions on where to go.

John gets onto the phone to Scotland Yard as soon as we pull out of Baker Street. "Yeah, hi, I need to speak to Detective Inspector Lestrade," John says, pausing to hear their reply as they try and divert the call. "No, Detective Inspector Lestrade. I need to speak to him. It's important. It's an emergency!" John looks down at the laptop as it shows the next turning coming up. "Er, left here, please. Left here." A million possibilities fill my busy mind of where dad could be as we continue down the road. "Good, yeah, I'll ... I'll see you then."

***

Almost half an hour later, the taxi comes to a stop outside Roland-Kerr College and we file out, barely taking the time to thank the driver and pass him a few notes before we head towards the college.

John groans as he sees the two, identical buildings, but this is definitely the place - the other cab is still here outside.

Tucking the laptop inside his jacket, he turns to me. "Which one?"

"I can't tell," I say truthfully. "You take the left one, I'll go right."

John looks hesitant. "You sure you're going to be okay?"

I roll my eyes and tap my pocket, showing him the outline of my gun. John grimaces but I can see a similar outline in the pocket of his jeans, so he gives me a nod and I head off towards the building.

My entire world in a haze of worry and panic as I sprint through the building, peering frantically through the windows to try and find dad. I couldn't bear to think of what would happen if I didn't get to him in time. What would happen to me? Where would I go? I can't lose him as well as mother and I can't live with John - we only met this afternoon. All that matters to me now is finding dad before it's too late.

"Sherlock?" I call loudly as I run. "Sherlock!"

He must be somewhere here. I race up a flight of stairs, and head left down a corridor and through another door. I hear a gunshot, and I know I'm too late. My heartbeat quickens, but my muscles stop, and I feel like I've been winded.

He's gone.

I wipe the tears furiously from my eyes and pull out my gun, then I continue onwards, slower than before, but more determined. I throw open another door and almost let out a shriek of happiness as I see him, knelt over the writhing body of the cabbie.

A bullet hole in the exterior window tells me John got here before I did, and I rush to dad's side as he brandishes a small pill at the dying cabbie.

"Was I right?" The cabbie turns his head away dad and I can see the pool of blood beneath it. "I was, wasn't I? Did I get it right?!" He does reply, so dad hurls the pill across the room and stands up. I run to collect the pill for testing later. "Okay, tell me this: your sponsor. Who was it? The one who told you about me – my 'fan'. I want a name."

"No," the driver gasps.

"You're dying, but there's still time to hurt you," dad threatens. "Give me a name." The driver shakes his head, and dad places his leg onto his shoulder, where the shot hit. The cabbie gasps in pain. "A name." He cries out again. "Now." He's in too much pain to talk, but dad looks intent and manic as he leans his weight onto his foot so that the cabbie whimpers. "The NAME!" Dad shouts furiously.

"MORIARTY!" The driver croaks, agonised. His eyes close, and his head lolls to the side. He's dead.

Dad steps back looking thoughtful as he repeats the word. Is it a name? Or is it an organisation? Either way, I haven't heard of it, and that's what makes me feel so uneasy.

I hear the parade of sirens screech to a halt outside, quickly followed by the doors slamming shut as the officers come in to search the place. I run up to dad and put my arms around him, sobbing into his jacket.

"I thought you..." I choke. I feel him nod and he kisses my head.

"You've been incredibly brave, Sophia," he whispers softly, teasing his fingers through my hair. "Everything is going to be alright, he's dead now."

I stand up straight, wiping the tears away for what I'm hoping to be is the last time this evening. A couple of medics come in with orange shock blankets, and they lead us out and past the stretcher being wheeled in for the body. Both of us try to shake off the blankets but with no success.

They lead us to the back of the Ambulance where we sit and chat, shrugging off the blanket again as the medics walk away.

"Did you get the pill?" dad asks softly, and I nod, not trusting my voice yet. I'm saved by Lestrade coming over, but not before the medics place the blankets on us again. "Why have we got these blankets?" dad asks him, gesturing. "They keep putting these blankets on us."

"Yeah, it's for shock," Lestrade explains.

"I'm not in shock," dad emphasises.

"Yeah, but some of the guys wanna take photographs," Lestrade grins and we roll our eyes. We'll be on social media as we speak, and then we'll be the laughing stock of Scotland Yard.

"So, the shooter. No sign?" dad asks, and I put my poker face on, not wanting to reveal John to the police.

"Cleared off before we got 'ere. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him but got nothing to go on," he shrugs, and dad looks at him pointedly.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

Now it's Lestrade's turn to roll his eyes, and I bite my lip nervously, hoping dad doesn't give too much away. He wouldn't give John up knowingly, but if he's showing off... "Okay, gimme."

Dad stands up. "The bullet they just dug out of the wall's from a hand gun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of a weapon – that's a crack shot you're looking for, but not just a marksman; a fighter. His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatised to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service ..." dad turns his head and sees John standing behind the police tape, beginning to make the connection but not realising it yet. "... and nerves of steel ..." he finally trails off as John looks around at us innocently and then turns his head away again. I can see the lightbulb light up in dad's head as he makes the connection. Lestrade follows his gaze, but dad turns back to him before he can ask any questions. "Actually, do you know what? Ignore me."

"Sorry?" Lestrade questions, looking puzzled.

"Ignore all of that. It's just the, er, the shock talking," he says, walking towards John.

"Where're you going?" Lestrade shouts.

"I just need to talk about the-the rent," Dad says vaguely.

"But I've still got questions for you."

Dad turns back in irritation. "Oh, what now? I'm in shock! We both are! Look, we've got a blanket!" He lifts the sides of his blanket as if to prove it.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade yells.

"And I just caught you a serial killer ... more or less."

Lestrade pauses and looks at us thoughtfully for a moment, trying to work out whether to let us off or not. "Okay," he sighs. "We'll bring you in tomorrow. Off you go."

"Thank you!" I call back as we walk away.

Dad takes the blanket off of my shoulders and bundles it up, taking his own off as well and doing the same as we approach John, before tossing it in through the open window of a nearby police car.

"Um," John starts, nervously, "Sergeant Donovan's just been explaining everything, the two pills. Been a dreadful business, hasn't it? Dreadful."

Dad looks at John for a moment before saying anything. "Good shot."

John tries and completely fails to look innocent. "Yes. Yes, must have been, through that window."

"Well, you'd know," dad says, still quietly. John gazes at him still trying to recover his innocent expression. "Need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don't suppose you'd serve time for this, but let's avoid the court case." John clears his throat and looks around nervously, still not admitting the obvious truth, and I'm certainly not saying anything. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, of course I'm all right."

"Well, you have just killed a man."

"Yes, I ..." he admits finally, trailing off as dad looks at him closely. "That's true, innit?" John smiles, but it looks closer to a grimace as dad continues to watch him. "But he wasn't a very nice man."

Reassured that John really is okay, dad nods in agreement and drops the serious demeanour. "No. No, he wasn't really, was he?"

"And frankly a bloody awful cabbie."

Dad and I laugh as he leads us away. "That's true. He was a bad cabbie. Should have seen the route he took us to get here!"

John laughs, dad smiles and I just shake my head at their immaturity. "Stop! Stop, we can't giggle, it's a crime scene! Stop it!"

"You're the one who shot him. Don't blame me," dad says loudly as we approach Donovan.

"Keep your voice down!" John hisses as we walk past. "Sorry – it's just, um, nerves, I think," he apologises to her.

"Sorry," dad tells her before John clears his throat.

"You were gonna take that damned pill, weren't you?"

Dad turns back to him. "Course I wasn't. Biding my time. Knew you'd turn up." He turns and smiles at me.

"No you didn't. It's how you get your kicks, isn't it? You risk your life to prove you're clever."

"Why would I do that?" Dad asks, trying to sound innocent.

"Because you're an idiot."

Dad smiles, delighted that somebody finally understands us. After a moment, he forces the smile down. "Dinner?"

"Starving," John agrees.

"End of Baker Street, there's a good Chinese stays open 'til two. You can always tell a good Chinese by examining the bottom third of the door handle."

"Interesting, Sherlock," I say, chuckling. "I'm sure John is fascinated"

John laughs and dad looks at me, hurt. He drops his laugh as a black car pulls up and a man and a woman gets out. "Sherlock. That's him. That's the man I was talking to you about."

Dad looks up and groans. "I know exactly who that is."

We walk closer to them, dad looking angry at his and Lucinda's sudden appearance. John looks around, as if looking for the police officers in case we need their help. They couldn't do anything to prevent their childish bickering.

"So, another case cracked. How very public-spirited ... though that's never really your motivation, is it?" Mycroft says to dad, just looking for a reason to pick a fight.

"What are you doing here?" Dad demands.

"As ever, I'm concerned about you." I scoff at his pathetic excuse.

"Yes, I've been hearing about your 'concern.'"

"Always so aggressive," Mycroft scolds. "Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?"

"Oddly enough, no!"

"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer ... and you know how it always upset Mummy."

I roll my eyes - it always comes down to this. John frowns as if unsure of what he's heard and I have to stop myself from laughing at his ignorance.

"I upset her? Me?" dad sneers, and Mycroft glowers at him. "It wasn't me that upset her, Mycroft."

"No, no, wait. Mummy? Who's Mummy?" John asks, finally lost.

"Mother – our mother," dad explains, keeping his eyes on Mycroft. "This is my brother, Mycroft." John stares at him in amazement. "Putting on weight again?"

"Losing it, in fact," Mycroft sneers.

"He's your brother?!"

"Of course he's my brother."

"So he's not ..."

"Not what?" We all look at him as John shrugs in embarrassment.

"I dunno – criminal mastermind?" John grimaces at having even suggested it.

I laugh as dad glowers at Uncle Mycroft. "Close enough."

"For goodness' sake," Mycroft snaps. "I occupy a minor position in the British government."

"He is the British government, when he's not too busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis," Dad tells John and Mycroft sighs. "Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does for the traffic."

Dad and I walk away, but John stays behind with Mycroft.

"They'll be talking about us now," I say, nudging dad. "God, he's annoying."

Dad chuckles. "You don't know the half of it."

John catches up with us after a moment and we walk down the road, side by side. "Some day, huh."

"Mmm! I can always predict the fortune cookies."

"No you can't," I scoff.

"Almost can." He nods to John. "You did get shot, though."

"Sorry?' John asks, lost in the change of topic.

"In Afghanistan. There was an actual wound."

"Oh, yeah. Shoulder."

"Shoulder! I thought so," dad says in delight.

"No you didn't."

"The left one."

"Lucky guess." John fires back.

"I never guess," dad lies, smiling and John laughs.

"Yes you do. What are you so happy about?"

"Moriarty," dad says.

"What's 'Moriarty'?"

"I've absolutely no idea." Dad says happily as we continue our way home, momentarily enjoying the rather tedious calm that has swept through London, for now.