#Mycroft scenario

[sickficideas]

moriarty brothers illness headcanons :)

William

- very easily motion sick. it's not as bad on trains or carriages but anything on water is guaranteed to make him feel nauseous

- prone to fevers...they're not always very high, but sometimes he'll be working all day with a low grade fever and no one will have a clue. once it gets high enough, though, everyone starts to notice, but William will usually keep working until someone makes him stop (and at that point he's a pushover)

- everyone is aware of his tendency to suddenly fall asleep (undiagnosed narcolepsy lol) but it's worse when he's sick, and he's much more difficult to wake when he's sick

- post-The Final Problem, he's gotten more sickly, and he's much more aware and accepting of when he needs to rest. he's often super faint and dizzy and has issues walking for long periods of time, so he always takes Sherlock's arm when it's too much

- Sherlock laying with him when he's not feeling well, giving him tummy rubs when he feels nauseous and making sure he's comfortable enough to sleep uninterrupted...William often makes himself feel worse when he worries about his family and even though Sherlock understands his pain he's gotten good at derailing his thoughts

Louis

- he has to take daily medication for his heart...if he ever misses a dose or the formulation is off, it's obvious - he's pale, dizzy, and faint all day. he will absolutely get irritable too. William will notice it coming on when he gets a little snappy

- he's generally pretty sickly, despite denying it, and he's not good at hiding anything or taking care of himself. anyone other than William has to tread carefully with accusing him of being sick because he'll get defensive. most of them have learned to just tell William if something is wrong with Louis instead of confronting him themselves. but Louis hates that even more, William worries too much about him 💔

- he has a very sensitive stomach...not only with food, but his stomach reacts to unpleasant sights and smells too to a certain extent. if he sees something that makes his stomach churn he'll turn around, cover his mouth and breathe hard through his nose and that usually works okay. he's used to his stomach hurting but tries to avoid throwing up at all cost, especially in front of others

Albert

- he is ridiculously good at hiding when he doesn't feel well. like William, he can continue working despite his condition, but he's much more stubborn about stopping. usually it works out in his favor but there has been a few times where he's truly needed help

- Mycroft has personally witnessed him very politely excuse himself to throw up and come back and seem perfectly fine, like nothing ever happened :) Mycroft thinks it's kind of attractive

- Albert is a pro at throwing up 🙏 it doesn't bother him much at all, and because of this he's very good at taking care of his brothers when their stomachs are sick

- he's not sick very often and generally has a good immune system, but stress will usually be the reason he falls ill. he's also fallen victim to a hangover every now and then too lol

[pillow-anime-talk]

hi, can i request nsfw 42 + Mycroft Holmes from Moriarty The Patriot with brat/slutty reader

# tags: scenario; one night stand; hot romance; strip club; stripper!reader; bratty!reader; nsfw

warnings: mention of sexual acitivities, size kink, a bit of dry humping, erotic dance, commands, just touching, no panties, ass gripping, slutty names

includes: gender neutral reader ft. mycroft holmes {mtp}

music inspiration {click}

author’s note: i liked my own idea and the character of mycroft in it, so i hope you like what i wrote too :) have a nice time!

42. “… You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

You encircled the metal pipe twice, then wrapped your left leg around it and tightened your grip on its cold surface, all the time looking at your regular customer – Mycroft. His huge and breathtaking posture occupied the entire soft burnt red armchair, and his face was directed at your naked body from the beginning of your strip dance. He carefully watched your agile legs, waist, neck adorned with a gold necklace, as well as glossy red lips and cunning eyes with a long line of black eyeliner.

He came here to see you twice a week: always on Tuesday at ten o’clock in the evening, and every Saturday shortly after midnight.

“… You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.” You pushed your hair back, giggling a little. “... As always.”

“Let’s just meet after your working hours.” He grunted with satisfaction, taking a sip of whiskey with an ice cube, and you just smirked, shaking your head in disapproval.

“I don’t sleep with my clients, you know that. I play with them, tease them; you can look at me and touch my body, but nothing else, pretty boy.” You said in an amused, slightly playful tone of voice, pressing the chest against the smooth long stick. Your make-up reflected the lights of purple and gold lamps beautifully, and your skin was smooth and juicy like never before. You were sexy, attractive and talented (not just in dancing, of course). “Should I do more or just dance next to this pipe? Have you come to confess your nasty sins to God and drink some alcohol or what?” You asked after a short while, touching the metal with your musculed back at the same time. Your high heels tapped loudly on the dark wooden floor, and the man set the glass down on the table next to the chair.

“Come here.”

“As I thought.” You responded by smacking your lips and then slowly walked over to the man, placing your hands on both of his knees. Your chest immediately caught his eye. The necklace reflected the light from the small lamp next to the two of you, and you crouched down, wiggling your ass. However, you quickly lifted your body, standing over one of your client’s legs and sat on it with a confident movement. Your bare skin touched the cool material of Mycroft’s black pants, and you smiled in his direction. “Touch me, I know you want to.”

Both large hands touched your waist, then moved to your bare buttocks, squeezing them. The grip was so strong that you moaned slightly under your breath, biting your lower lip with your teeth. For sure, after this night, red marks will be visible on your skin. That wasn’t a problem though.

“You’re my favorite cumslut... So disappointing that you don’t want to meet me for free. You know I’d please you very well.” He grunted, obviously dissatisfied, and you only moved your hips, rubbing against the man’s soft pants. The pleasant friction caused a slight wave of pleasure in you.

“Meeting outside of my job would certainly be more expensive than a private car. You wouldn’t have paid off until your future grandchildren died.” You leaned to him and whispered the sentence into his ear, licking it lightly with the tip of your hot tongue.

“One day you will succumb to me, bitch.” He responded by squeezing your ass once again and you lifted the corner of your mouth up.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” You replied, catching his massive bulge in his boxers with your right hand.

[itsbenedict]

what the fuck mandy you can't just say who carlyle's biological parents are that's LITERALLY ILLEGAL

But yeah, this is a tricky one! In part because like, it's been a while since I read those books, but also because Carlyle is so temperamentally a cinnamon roll. And the plot isn't fresh enough in my mind to figure out the perfect place for them to go off the deep end...

I think probably the easiest way to do this is to just have Julia Doria-Pamphili get to them. Carlyle goes through like five different crises of faith in these books, so it's probably not hard to have one of them resolve in a less healthy way. They break, one of the many times they had the opportunity to break but didn't in canon, and Julia makes them into exactly the weapon she intended them to be. Probably works best if, like, this happens before Bridger does what Bridger does at the end of Too Like the Lightning, and they kidnap him and really fuck up his conversation with J.E.D.D. Mason. Theologically speaking, they can do a lot of damage.

[theblob1958]

we need to dykeify the bechdel test again

[musclesandhammering]

This. I love the subtle details peppered throughout the series that, in defiance of the stereotypical eccentric intellectual archetype, Sherlock’s actually very physically motivated.

I take the precaution of a good coat

and a short friend

[sarcasstic-jpmvr]

but WHY LAZARUS, HOLMES BOYS

RIDDLE ME THAT

IT’S EITHER THEM FANDBOYING OVER A FUCKING DOCTOR WHO EPISODE OR JUST THE SAINT LAZARUS OF BETHANY WHO DIED AND JESUS WEPT

SO WHO IS JESUS IN THIS SCENARIO? JOHN? LESTRADE? MYCROFT????

Wait hold on I think I’m onto sth here

[calaisreno]

Three Women Perplex the British Government

1362 words / Prompt: Journey / A sequel to Sixth Sense. (Just in case you were wondering what Molly decided to do!)

---

He doesn’t recognise the woman standing before him. His mother trained him well, though, so he rises and gestures at the chair. 

“Please.” He glances at Anthea, who is giving him an inscrutable look from the doorway. The one that says he’s offended her in some way that she will neither admit nor explain. 

Anthea closes the door. Mycroft regards the woman, who is still standing. 

“Please,” he repeats, giving her a generic smile. 

His visitor is regarding him as well. Studying him. No smile. “I’d rather not.”

She’s a tiny woman, and he’s a tall man. If she would only sit down, he could sit as well, and it would not feel so much like he’s bullying her. That’s not his style, at least not with women. Small women, dressed in hand knit jumpers. 

He has no idea what she wants, but is afraid that some persuasion might be necessary. Not the bullying he reserves for his brother, or even the subtle manipulation he aims at John Watson, a difficult man to intimidate.

“Miss…?” He feels like he ought to know her. 

“Molly Hooper,” she says. “We haven’t met. I’m—”

“Yes, of course. Doctor Hooper. How can I help you?” He looks down at her, desperately wishing she’d take the chair. “I should thank you,” he remembers to say. “Your help was greatly appreciated. I hope my brother expressed that to you.”

“I’m here about John Watson.”

“Ah.” He narrows his eyes, anticipating the outburst of sentiment she will unleash. “I’m maintaining surveillance on him. You need not concern yourself about any retribution against him. He is safe.”

“It’s not that,” she replies, folding her arms across her chest and glaring. She’s about as intimidating as a kindergarten teacher, but she’s making him uneasy. 

He should have anticipated this. Sherlock assured him that she would play her part well, and Mycroft himself managed the business about the body. But even a goldfish might have a conscience, especially if other goldfish are asking questions.

“Are you receiving any scrutiny over your part in the plan? That can be handled.”

“No, it’s fine. What I mean is, John isn’t coping well with Sherlock’s death.”

“Ah. My brother asked you to assist him in keeping Doctor Watson in the dark, and you’re feeling guilty that you know things which he does not. I assure you that we considered all possible scenarios, and none of them involved taking Doctor Watson into our confidence.”

“Why not?”

“Doctor Watson is a soldier. He is used to death and equipped to handle grief.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” she says, glaring in earnest now. “It’s been months. Have you seen him?”

“My people are keeping a weather eye on him.”

“But you haven’t called on him?”

“He would not appreciate hearing from me, Doctor Hooper. I’m afraid my concern will not help him.”

She closes her eyes briefly, shaking her head. “You made a mistake. You and Sherlock.”

“There were not many options before us.”

“Was it you or Sherlock who decided not to tell him?”

“My brother has a great deal of sentiment for Doctor Watson. I’m afraid I had to dissuade him.”

Her voice raises. “Because he loves John?”

“Doctor Watson is not…” He considers how he should word it, decides that being forthright will end this conversation sooner. “My brother’s feelings are not returned. Cannot be returned. Sherlock is gay, and Doctor Watson is not.”

“How do you know?”

“He has stated this publicly several times. Sherlock knows as well. In order to undertake the task he set for himself, it was necessary to leave him behind. I have no doubt that the doctor will meet a lovely woman and be married before long.”

“I don’t care what label you put on him. He loved Sherlock, and it’s killing him that he’s dead. He has PTSD. When they met, he was suicidal. If anything happens to him—”

“Miss Hooper. If you are considering breaking your promise, I must warn you. This matter involves branches of our government whose existence is unknown to most people. I would hate to—”

“Don’t threaten me, Mr Holmes,” she says. “At this point, what is the harm in telling him? If there are still snipers trailing after him, you haven’t done a very good job, have you? And if there aren’t any snipers, there’s no reason not to tell him.”

He has erred. This woman is no goldfish. 

And Anthea keeps asking him about Watson, suggesting that it’s time he knew. 

And then there’s this other woman. Mary Morstan, she calls herself. A complication. She vexes him. 

“Very well,” he says. “I will handle it.”

---

“Well, I’m back,” John says. 

The headstone is silent, as it should be. John Watson does not look like a man who expects an answer from a block of marble. He squares his shoulders and stands at parade rest, hands clasped behind his back. 

“I’m back again,” he repeats. “I just wanted to tell you something.”

He looks uneasy, Mycroft thinks. A confession, then.

“When you died, I thought I’d never… find myself again. I wasn’t good, not for a long time. Maybe that would surprise you.” He smiles grimly. “Well, you’re beyond surprise now, so I may as well say what I didn’t say the first time I came here. No, I’m not going to ask again. I know there’s not going to be any miracle. You’re not… coming back.” 

He lowers his face into his hand. For a moment his shoulders shake. Mycroft waits.

Drawing a deep breath, he raises his head. “So, this is it. What I should have told you… when it might have made a difference. Maybe it wouldn’t have, but I wish I’d said, just in case… well. I love you. I always did.” Choking back a sob, he continues. “You didn’t do that, though. No sentiment. Caring’s not an advantage. Yeah. But I did. Love you.”

The sentiment is so thick, it’s almost nauseating. Mycroft desperately wants a cigarette. Reminding himself of what he’s here to do, he waits.

“Once, I asked you for a miracle. But there aren’t any miracles, at least not for us. And now…” John wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his jumper. “Now it’s time. I know I’ll never be over you, never forget what it was like… but I’m alive, and I think I have to do something to stay that way. Get on with it, try to have a life without you.” He clears his throat and sniffs. “I met somebody. She isn’t you, but I think you would have liked her, that she would’ve been the one who finally passed muster. I know she would’ve liked you. So, I’m giving it a go, asking her. To marry me, I mean.” 

He makes a sound that might be a laugh, or maybe a sob. “I have to try,” he says. “I wish… well, it’s no use. I love you, but you’re not here. And I just can’t be alone forever. So.” He straightens his back, nods at the black marble. “This is goodbye, Sherlock.” 

As he turns, Mycroft steps out. John’s eyes widen, then narrow with suspicion. 

“Doctor Watson,” he says. “There are several things you need to know.”

—-

When he opens the door of his office, Anthea is waiting for him.

“Well?”

“You were right.” He sighs and meets her eyes. “Good call.”

The look on her face softens into a barely-detectable smile. “I’ve taken care of the Morstan woman. Extradition is underway.”

“She was…?” 

“Yes. Different name, but she’d done several jobs for him. The Americans will be glad to have her back. She won’t be visiting us any time soon.”

He nods, suddenly weary, and sinks into his chair. Too much sentiment, too much emotion. It’s exhausting. “Now we only need to bring my brother home.”

“We’ve received word this morning that he’s on his way to to Serbia.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Intercept him. We’ll let Baynes and his team handle that. Sherlock needs to come home.”

Her smile broadens. “As you wish.”

The door closes behind her. 

“Good journey, brother,” he whispers. “No more surprises.”

---

Read / comment on AO3

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: December 20/24

Happy Friday Before Christmas, friends!! Some of us officially start a break, so let's get into the weekend with five more fics added to my radar this week! Enjoy!

RECENT MFLs

Travellers by Calais_Reno (T, 2,672+ w., 1/? Ch. || Time Travel AU || WiP || Victorian Universe, Christmas, Hope) – I’ve been collecting some ideas for short stories based on The Traveller and have decided to keep them together here. There is no plot; these are scenes (sequels? prequels?) I didn’t include in The Traveller but wanted to share with you. If you haven’t read the original story, Sherlock is a time traveller from 2052 who comes back to 2009 to kill Moriarty, who has set in motion events leading to a civilisation-ending scenario in the year 2143. He meets John, kills Moriarty, and… I’d say the rest is history. Part 9 ofTime Travel

A Commitment by J_Baillier (T, 4,479 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, Rosie Is In This Fic, Marriage, Parenthood, Light Romance, Platonic Romance, Angst, Family, Friendship/Love) – Mycroft has news to share, which prompts John and Sherlock to consider the turns their shared life has taken during the past few years.

H.O.U.N.D. by KtwoNtwo (T, 7,922+ w., 4/16 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU || WiP || THoB Rewrite, Case Fic, Dubious Science) – When Sherlock takes on the case of Henry Knight he is unprepared for what he will find at Baskerville. Behind the facade of doped up monkeys, glowing rabbits, and the ever-present alien joke Sherlock suspects there's a darker trial being run. One without full govt authority that involves a very human subject. It will take all of his courage to face this adversary - to risk his life and his career - to unleash the H.O.U.N.D. from its master, its collar, and it's cage and to give him a chance at true Liberty; a chance to feel human again.

In the Arms of the Ocean by standbygo (E, 10,814 + w., 6/10 Ch. || WiP || Friends to Lovers, Cruises / Vacation, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating) – Sherlock and John are gifted an Atlantic cruise on a luxury ship as thanks from a rich client. Will either one of them finally get their heads out of the sand and share their love for each other? (Spoiler: yeah, they do.)

Fight or Flight by saintscully (M, 10,975 w., 10 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S4 Rewrite / Fix It, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Mutual Pining, Implied Alcohol Abuse, Implied / Referenced Infidelity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jealous John, Self Doubt, Fluff and Angst) – This is the story of John and Sherlock during Mary’s months away from London. Part 1 of The Fight or Flight Universe

[joanquill]

Introducing their S/O

Because of a forgotten letter, Billy is now left in charge of introducing you to everyone at dinner.

Billy the Kid/Henry Atrim

A/N: Hi! About "How I Got Sent to Another World", I am planning to continue it, but I have no idea when my brain will help me with it 🙃 however, I have added everyone interested in the taglist of the draft :)

Tag/s: Scenario, 500+ words, Fem!Reader, Established Relationship

Warning/s: MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS!

"Would it kill you to learn how to fix your hair?"

"I don't have to since you always help me," Billy cheekily answered, as you brushed his back as best as you could.

You rolled your eyes and slapped a pile of gel onto his head, making him shiver.

"Rude..." he pouted, making you chuckle as you fixed his unruly hair.

"We have finished everything we needed to do, right?" you asked, checking the documents you brought for the nth time.

"Yep! We discussed everything at the Anglo-American talks with Antenna Onii-san, remember?" Billy reassured, looking in the mirror as he fluffed his hair.

As you flipped through the documents, making sure everything was accurate, a small, unopened envelope fell from the pile.

"...Crap."

"Hello!" Billy cheerfully greeted as he entered the room with Mycroft, "Sorry to keep everyone waiting~!"

"No worries, you're right on time," Louis reassured, courtly walking up to the new guests,

"Pleased to meet you, Mister Henry Atrim." Louis raised his hand to Billy, "My name is Louis James Moriarty. My brother has told me about you,"

"Feel free to call me Billy, Louis-kun," Billy replied, shaking his hand with a warm smile.

"Where's Miss (L/N)?" Louis asked, looking around the door for your presence.

"Ah, (N/N)'s gonna be a little late. She's just finishing some loose ends with Pinkerton," Billy answered, perking the ears of other guests.

"Oh? Another lady will be joining us this evening?" Jack asked with a knowing smirk, earning a nudge from Sebastian.

"Yep!" Billy confirmed with an upbeat tone as you rushed to the manor.

"I brought someone that also helped Sherlock and William during those three years," your footsteps echoed in the hallway, catching everyone's attention.

"Speaking of," Billy smiled, seeing you rushing to the room, panting heavily as you hastily fixed yourself.

"This is (N/N)! My loving partner," Billy proudly introduced yourself, making your face flush as you cleared your throat.

"I am (Y/N) (L/N), it is an honor to meet you all," you politely said, bowing your head.

"So you are Miss (L/N)?" Jack started as he walked up to you, holding his hand out as you confusedly placed your hand in his,

"Words do not give justice to the sight of you," he winked, kissing the top of your hand.

"Quit it, old man!" Sebastian warned, pulling him aside as Bonde approached.

"Sorry about him... It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss (L/N)," he smiled, raising your hand to his lips as he kissed your knuckles.

"Master Jack is right, though. You truly are far more charming in person than what you were described as," he added, making you nervously laugh.

"T-Thank you...! I guess...?" you replied, unsure how to react to the attention.

"Isn't she the cutest?" Billy confirmed as he hugged you tightly, making you blush as you tried to look away.

"Too bad, she's already mine!" Billy teased as he showed off the ring on your finger, clasping your hands together.

"Billy!" you shouted, hiding your face in embarrassment as Billy hugged you, hiding your face from the crowd.

"So go find another girl to bother," Billy stuck out his tongue as he shielded you from the men.

"Everyone already knew about your engagement, Mister At- Billy," Louis reassured with an awkward smile.

"(Y/N) already asked us to tell everyone about your engagement, idiot," Sherlock grumbled, walking into the room with a basket of fruits.

"So quit flirting already," Sherlock added, making you sigh.

"Well, this is just the best first impression..."

[mystradeholidaycollection]

Mystrade Holiday Collection update...

There are now 11 fics in the collection! Hope you’ll take a moment to give them some love. 💖

all is (somewhat) calm by phinnia-- T, 131 words

Mycroft hates Christmas morning. What he really means is that he hates being disturbed Christmas morning.

@starkraivennemad ‘s series continues with...

On Cue -- G, 360 words

It was clear to Mycroft that Gregory's ex wanted to rekindle things. Mycroft could not determine whether Gregory wanted it as well. He wanted Gregory, but not if Gregory wanted someone else. Give me a cue.

Taking A Chance--G, 360 words

Mycroft does not believe in coincidence, but he does believe in the Universe giving him a chance with Gregory.

If he is brave enough to take it.

Imagined Scenarios--G, 360 words

Mycroft has imagined many scenarios on how he'd confess his love to Gregory - this was not one of them.

In addition they have added 3 fics separate from the series above.

The Second Holiday--G, 760 words

It's been months. A pattern acceptable to Greg has been established. He was good, he knew where he stood.

And Mycroft breaks it...

Twelfth To First--G, 782 words

It began with something silly – as all such do. Greg knew he was being ridiculous, but it gave him an idea, and he could not resist.

And it was on!

All I Have To Do... --T, 360 words

It's close to the New Year. Sherlock finds himself in a bad situation. All he has to do is one thing to fix it. But can he...?

[leosficlist]

Johnlock Fluff Rec List 6!

As always, these are the warmest, lightest, fluffiest fics in my bookmarks. Most of these are getting together fics, as most of my blog is.

Fluff 1, Fluff 2, Fluff 3, Fluff 4 , Fluff 5

How to Survive (When There's a Me and a You) by MirabileLectu @mirabilelectu 4.2k words

The explosion that came from the kitchen really shouldn’t have surprised John all that much, but if two years of living with Sherlock should have taught him anything by now it would be to never make assumptions he wasn't ready to have proven wrong.

notes: Sherlock gets hurt during an experiment, hurt/comfort, love confessions, calling him "love"

Risk by Spark_Writer 3.9k words

It doesn’t make sense, so John googles it.

An infatuation lasts an average of 4 months. Once it’s exceeded that, you’re already in love.

A curse—soft, albeit heartfelt—escapes him. He puts his head in his palms; exhales.

notes: fluff, both falling in love but not knowing what to do about it

The Five Times Sherlock Held John by Dark3Star 2.8k

... and the one time John held Sherlock. OR, The five times John saw and the one time he observed.

notes: sweet, short tale of times Sherlock comforted John

And In Your Arms I Figured Us Out by eragon19 @loveinthemindpalace 2.8k

John had figured it out ages ago, but it takes a chase through an airport, an overly cheerful EMT and a trip to the hospital for John to finally do something about it.

notes: fluff, hurt/comfort

On a Miserable Winter's Eve by belovedmuerto @belovedmuerto1.1k

John comes home to an empty flat. He falls asleep on the couch.

Stolen Kisses by ofsummerstars 6.1k

Sherlock takes it upon himself to kiss John at seemingly random moments, leaving John to decipher what this newfound affection means.

notes: together before they realize it

A Mirror Image by IntoTheSkyUntil 2.9k

Sherlock learns how to kiss the same way that he's learned how to give a compliment or say thank you: by mirroring John Watson. Shameless, shameless fluff.

Never Knew by smutmuffin 1.4k words

Written for auburnbatch, who won my promo giveaway and asked for a fic with Johnlock cuddles and some kissing on the sofa. The prompt included Mycroft saying something that hurt Sherlock and John snuggling him to make him feel better. My muse ran away with this and demanded a first kiss / friends to lovers scenario. (who am I to argue).

Fluff by loveanddeathandartandtaxes 535 words

At first, John wonders if there's something wrong with their washing machine or dryer. Then he wonders if it's his eyesight that's going.

Now by stopthat 1.2k words

John has only caught glimpses of it before.  He’s seen flashes of it, in Sherlock’s less guarded moments, only to doubt it all completely once it’s been carefully shuttered away. But Sherlock is not hiding now.

A Lifetime Together by LondonSpirit 8.8k words

John and Sherlock falling in love.

notes: a bite sized slowburn, lovely and heartfelt

Alright by evesbeve 4.1k words

Sherlock knows it's selfish to want John to take care of him, but it's entirely John's fault for offering to dry Sherlock's hair. After all, that's what flatmates are for... Right?

A Study in Paws by Strange_johnlock 6.5k words

"What do you need the milk for?” “I don’t need it. The kittens do.” As if they knew they were being talked about, the quiet room is filled with high pitched, tiny meows. John is right next to Sherlock within a few steps, and there, on his chair in a small box, are three of the tiniest kittens he has ever seen.

3 Kittens move into 221B. It's as simple as that. Oh, and John and Sherlock are in love, but they are also idiots.

notes: fluff for fluffs sake

[onceinawhilemoon]

Sherlock may roll his eyes at his older brother's overly patriotic calls for action in his requests “The nation needs you. Make the Empire Proud,” but I imagine Mycroft writes them with a genuine sense of pride in Sherlock. He writes them knowing that Sherlock will solve the mystery and save the day, even if his brother doesn't always see the value of his contributions to the greater good, and he simply offers them out of personal interest to satisfy his curiosity.

Sure, his little brother may stray from the beaten path sometimes and do whatever he wants, heedless of all instructions. Sure, it's frustrating to no end, and sure, his carelessness may result in the rise of unwanted troubles, but Mycroft still chooses him to complete those missions over any of his agents, and that, I think, says a lot. And hey, even if Sherlock “fails” his mission, he can still learn a thing or two more about spycraft and gain experience, and that's a win in Mycroft's book.

Sherlock perceives it as Mycroft being “too lazy” to do his own bidding, so he enlists Sherlock to “run errands” for him and dump some weight on Sherlock to relieve some of his own, and yet, with a few sighs and grumbles, Sherlock still pursues them for his brother, which also says a lot a lot. That being said, I'm convinced those missions are thoroughly researched and meticulously selected for Sherlock because Mycroft is a total control freak and overprotective like that.

I don't know how exactly he picks the mission he thinks is appropriate for Sherlock, but there are a few stables that come to mind: 1. Despite his brother’s above-average mental faculties and aptitude for combat and disguise, Mycroft still considers the fact that his brother isn't trained in espionage and that there are a lot of things he’s yet to learn, and thus chooses missions for him accordingly. 2. He ensures that whatever he asks of Sherlock does not, in any way, shape, or form, compromise his brother's health, safety, or identity. I don’t think that he'd ever, for example, ask Sherlock to look into anything involving “M.”

And I like to think that it's Mycroft who fabricates those news stories afterward about how some “brilliant” and “rising” police inspector cracked the case in order to protect Sherlock's identity.

Request by request, mission by mission, Mycroft has been slowly training his brother with hopes that one day Sherlock might consider working together with him on a more regular basis and make a name for himself in Mycroft's world. If Sherlock agreed, they’d be a force to be reckoned with; a Holmes in Her Majesty’s Secret Service is already a force to be reckoned with, imagine if there were two.

His approach is heavy-handed and comes across as entitled and demanding, but what if Mycroft pushes Sherlock to work for/with him simply because he wants his brother close to him? What if his ideal scenario was him and Sherlock serving the nation side by side and getting along as brothers? It’d be easier to keep an eye on Sherlock that way, too, instead of having to run around and chase after him to make sure he doesn't get himself into serious trouble.

That day did come eventually, based on one of the endings, but oh boy, I don’t think Mycroft realized just how much like oil and water he and his brother really are.

[fandom-lover2]

The Hound

Chapter One - A-hunting We Go

Word Count - 1246

My eyes slipped closed again, and I fought to open them.

God, how much longer was this stupid lesson?

The teacher droned on, monotonously, about a topic I can’t remember. Despite the annoying shrill of her voice, the lack of change in pitch was lulling me to sleep.

My eyes closed, my head too heavy for my neck, and I jerk awake just in time to save my forehead slamming into my desk from where it slipped off my raised fist. I checked the time again. Still 20 minutes, and it was barely even 10am yet.

I needed out, an interference from God to free me from this prison.

And then it came. The intercom went off, I was needed in the office with my bags.

I packed up silently and slipped away from the class, heading to the office.

I hadn’t done anything wrong, right? My grades were good and I hadn’t been acting out in class. Why was I being called in?

I walked through the halls of the school, private obviously. Mycroft had insisted I attend, saying that if I was staying with his brother, I needed a proper education. He’d gotten me into the school all the politician’s children went to, so that I was protected. Surrounded by armed special forces security teams, no one could even look at the school without being surrounded and hauled off for interrogation.

I got to the office and waited with the headmaster’s assistant for a few minutes before being allowed in. When I was, he sat me down and looked at me very sadly.

“Your father phoned. There has been a death in the family.”

There were two things wrong with this scenario. First, my father didn’t even know I was in London. In fact, last I knew he was either a prisoner to the Iranian government or he was working for them.

Secondly, ‘death in the family’ was a code. Something that would guarantee my release from school.

“Your father is busy booking the flights for you.” The headmaster continued, pulling a slip of paper from his desk and beginning to full it in. “Let me know if there is anything I can do for you.”

He didn’t mean it, it was just something people said to one another when tragedy struck. You weren’t actually going to drop all you were doing and help somebody just shy of the title ‘stranger’ because they were mourning. Humans are weird.

The headmaster handed me the release slip and offered getting one of the agents to drive me home, but I told him I’d prefer the walk. It’d give me time to message loved ones and work through my grief.

Making my way out the school, I handed my release form to the guards at the gate and was then on my way.

I didn’t hurry. “Death in the family” was to come home, not any concern. “Mother in hospital” was an emergency, needed to be home immediately. “Brother broke his arm” was it wasn’t safe to go to the flat, and I needed to hightail it to Mycroft’s office. That, or Mycroft would have someone fetch me from school.

Taking the 45 minute walk, I tried putting my deduction skills to work.

Last time Sherlock had used this excuse he’d taken me to a case. Lestrade had questioned why I was there, and Sherlock had lied about me having a sick day. Sherlock had of course solved the case in 5 minutes. But he remained silent, standing by and watching me as I moved around the body, the scene, trying to see what he was seeing.

Took 2 hours for me to finally admit defeat. Sherlock then walked me through the steps I had taken again, then patiently pointed out what he had seen that I hadn’t, which lead to the revelation of domestic abuse gone too far. In the end, it wasn’t really worth missing my last few periods of school, but we’d bonded and I’d learnt a lot. John was furious when he realized Sherlock had pulled me from school, and for a case no less.

Today was John’s day off, so that meant he was home. Sherlock wouldn’t risk having me home if that meant John would find out, so that meant it involved both of them.

Sherlock had been having a dry spell of cases lately, and desperation had led to him leaving late last night to go “hunting” was all he said, taking a harpoon with him. If the school got a call from my ‘father’, then he must have finished up with that and be home now.

Unless… unless something had happened to Sherlock and John had called the school, needing me home.

My gut twisted tightly. Maybe it’d be best if I did hurry home. Speeding up my walk from a stroll to mildly contained jogging, I rushed down Baker Street and unlocked the door, bounding up the stairs two at a time.

I realized I didn’t need to worry, because Sherlock was looking at me in concern when I made it to our floor.

“You’re not dead.” I greeted.

“Should I be?” he quired, looking me up and down.

“I’m fine.” I reassured. “I just thought the code might mean something happened to you last night.”

 He nodded in understanding, before turning and going down the hall to his bedroom.

I followed after, surprised to see two suitcases on his bed, in the process of being packed. “Going somewhere?”

“We all are.” he confirmed, reaching into the shelves of my closet and pulling out some folded shirts.

I realized that one of the suitcases was full of my things. “Where?”

“I thought we agreed we weren’t pulling her from school?” John spoke, appearing in the kitchen and calling down the hall. He had a suitcase in hand.

“You talked, I listened. That doesn’t count as agreeing.” Sherlock then moved passed me to go into the bathroom, grabbing our toothbrushes and the toothpaste. “Besides, it’s only 2 days. We’ll be back before the weekend’s over.”

“Back from where?” I tried again to get an answer.

“Baskerville.”

I frowned, racking my brain through the United Kingdom geography I knew. Nothing came up.

“Up north, deep countryside.” John supplied, walking into the living room.

Sherlock followed him, breezing into the room and picking up both our laptops.

“For a case?” In all the time I’d known them, there had never once been a discussion on vacations.

 “Man’s father was mauled by a hound a few years ago.”

I frowned at Sherlock, and he moved down the hall again, back to our bags. “We’re investigating a dog attack?”

“We are proving the dog is there.” John corrected.

We were gonna go and prove a dog, which attacked a man years ago, was actually there to attack a man? Wouldn’t seeing the body prove that there was a dog?

“Not dog.” Sherlock called and he headed back towards us. “Hound.”

“And the difference between ‘dog’ and ‘hound’ is?” I asked, looking around at the mess of papers that were all over the place. Like someone had been looking for something.

“Difference between a Blood Hound and a Pomeranian?” Sherlock fired back.

“Size.” I guessed.

Sherlock smiled, patting me on the head as he passed.

Ok, this guy had seen a big dog attack his father. What was the fascination with a big dog?

“Was it not maybe a wolf?”

“There aren’t wolves out that way.” John answered, checking his watch. “In fact, there aren’t wolves anywhere near here.”

“There’s wolves in almost most houses in the world.” I corrected. “Many were just bred down to the size of a Chihuahua.”

My ears perked up at the sound of Sherlock grabbing a glass jar from on top of the fridge and opening it, removing one red lollipop and holding it out to me.

That meant I’d said something useful, something relating to the case, an important fact. I knew what he was doing too, putting Pavlov to the test.

He would reward me when I contributed something useful, studying how rewards promote the desired behavior.

John hadn’t seemed to catch on yet, and it’s not that I minded, I was getting a lollipop.

“Get changed, we have a long train ride ahead.”

Then, he spun and went back to the bedroom, followed by the sound of zippers closing.

I looked around at the mess again. “Cigarettes?”

John sighed in response, moving to head downstairs and hail a cab.

So ‘Cold Turkey’ was going well.

[ohifonlyx33]

Oh oh I've got another one

The way Sherlock has a lucid hallucination of the 19th century in which Molly is there as a competent pathologist disguised as a man, but the John that Sherlock's subconscious conjured (to look for the things he might miss) is able to see her as a woman...

Then the Mycroft in his mind says something like "sometimes we have to let the villains win because they are right"

Remember every role in this scenario, every line written, is conjured by Sherlock FOR Sherlock.

And there she is again... at last revealed to be a woman... its Molly Hooper who is swapping dead bodies and helping other scorned women commit crimes... it's Molly Hooper being clever and strongwilled. And It's Molly Hooper who is the "villain" that Sherlock concedes has been wronged by him.

And then following that experience, there is Molly Hooper again threatening to undo the very foundation of Sherlock Holmes in the finale when he is trying to save her. And Eurus declares he DID lose... so in a way that makes Molly the villain from his subconscious... the one who makes him lose.

Not even "The Woman" could really do that... Sure, she can distract him--throw him off guard for a bit, but when Irene Adler plays her games, it's a battle of wills. Not a partnership or a friendship... and so ultimately he tells her that sentiment is the chemical defect of a loser. And he beats her game. Even when he saves her, he's not beat.

But he loses the battle entirely when Eurus phones Molly. And all Molly did was ask Sherlock if he was ok, slap him in the face when he deserved it, and save his life, and help him fake his death... of course it had to be true when he said those words to Molly...

Molly is the villain of the show. And she was right.

[starkraivennemad]

Imagined Scenarios

“So…” Gregory turned to Mycroft as he glanced around the busy Markthal, “not exactly alone but…”

“…at last,” Mycroft finished the thought as they exited into the night.

Flurries had begun, and Mycroft smiled as they swirled around Gregory’s windswept hair.

“Marcus pointed out something I also observed…you kept stroking this.” Mycroft stopped and touched the hem of Gregory’s jumper, “On anyone else, I would have immediately known it was a sign of thinking of the giver with love. But I gave you this. You know who I am, Gregory, what I am. I did not dare to hope someone like you could care for someone like me.”

“And after the many times of hearing, caring is not an advantage… I hid how much I love you, thinking someone like you would never want someone like me.” Gregory admitted.

HE LOVES ME!

“May I ask something?” Gregory reached for his hands.

“Of course!”

“You don’t mince words and rarely make verbal mistakes…”

“True…” Mycroft said warily. Where is he going with this?

“Your exact words earlier were …to offer you a proposal you truly desire…” Gregory breathed, "Not option, not offer -either of which would have worked, but proposal - did you mean it?"

You noticed! Of course you did!

“Seeing Marcus make overtures was enough to know I had to act. I could not risk losing you because of cowardice.” Mycroft spoke softly, “I don’t know how or why it happened, and frankly, I do not care. I only know that I love you, Gregory.  Yes, I meant it.”

“Oh, Mycroft! And I love you!” Gregory’s breath caught as he grabbed Mycroft’s hands.

“I must say confessing my love and proposing, in Rotterdam nonetheless(!), was never a scenario I imagined.” Mycroft glanced up at the surprisingly clear sky despite the flurries.

“I’ve also imagined a scenario with you…”

“Oh? What scenario?”

“Kissing you in the snow, three days before Christmas…”

Mycroft gasped, whatever words he had forgotten in Gregory’s tender kiss.

Does this mean…?

“Yes,” Gregory read him perfectly, “The answer is Yes, but you…”

“…must ask first? Fine…” And Mycroft read him perfectly.

“Will you marry me, Gregory?”

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

What was supposed to be a one-shot unexpectedly turned into a 7 part series is now complete.

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Start from the beginning Ex Ante Et Post series

@mystradeholidaycollection

@notjustamumj

[the-world-annealing]

A thought I commonly see in analyses of Terra Ignota is, loosely paraphrased: "Why would a third of the world population join up with the quasifascist rome larpers when there's a hive that made pokemon real."

Now of course, we're all on the Gay Sex And Pokemon website, there's a bias here and we might be wrong about what the average person is like, but even so the point still stands! What is it about the Masons that attracts people to them over all six to nine alternatives, especially given how little they actually offer except nice architecture and absolutist power structures?

Well, recall how a fact of Terra Ignota's world, one we run into time and time again, is: "Having everyone stop talking about gender and religion did not actually prevent discrimination or end oppression or otherwise solve any problems". Mycroft applies he/him to masons wherever possible, they're led by an emperor-even-when-female, they wear suits, they're powerful, they draw their symbology from supremely patriarchal times and places. It's clear that Masons are gendered more than any hive except the cousins, and one of the few organizations (the only?) to be gendered masculine.

(I think it's relevant to remark how blacklaws could have been presented as masculine tooth-and-claw survivalists, but instead we get chagatai and madame and dominic as the most prominent examples, which don't read very traditionally-masculine to us)

The cousins are explicitly identified as a sort of aggregate of feminine people, but they certainly aren't the sum total of them. And that makes sense; all the stereotypical feminine traits (caring for others, playing diplomat, cooking) are still relevant in the world that Terra Ignota presents; if you care deeply about Performing Feminine Roles you don't have to join the cousins, you can just be a mom friend or the one at the bash who doesn't work and focuses on raising the kids.

But if you care deeply about Performing Masculine Roles, you're a lot more limited in your options! Society is safe and peaceful, physical labor is increasingly rare, and at any rate nobody will depend on your labor to survive; you aren't 'working hard to put food on the table' because the food literally grows on trees!

The most 'masculine' career path remaining is probably policing (and I think it's relevant that the most prominent cop in the story gets gendered male!) but that's hardly an option for everyone.

So everyone who feels like a man, who watches fragmented bits of pop culture and half-forgotten references and constructs this ideal of masculinity out of it, who might meet the definition for gender dysphoria depending on how you look at it, who the text implies is made vulnerable by these unfulfilled desires... yeah, I think such a person would join the Masons in a heartbeat, because the Masons represent one of the few outlets for masculine urges (them and madame's roleplay scenarios). And if that describes a significant fraction of the population, it becomes absolutely unsurprising to see a 33% mason plurality at the start of the series.