#SHE THREATENED HOLMES

[electrosquash]

I accidentally stumbled over some workplace drama that they've been trying to keep under wraps today

[whothehellisrosee]

Right. I agree one hundred percent with this.

This fandom has existed since a time where misogyny “wasn’t a problem” (it was OBVIOUSLY a problem but it was more widespread and people didn’t think of it as much as we do now. Ofc there were people that tried to fight against it, and they were frowned upon, but thats slightly beside the point).

The point being that we have brought with us this misogynistic sight on the Sherlock Holmes fandom since it has been embodied since the start of it. And that’s not good, we should DEFINITELY stop that.

But the tag I made was only to show that it wasn’t the ENTIRE moment I wanted to highlight, I wanted to highlight the hand-holding. And that’s it.

Maybe I shouldn’t have put it in the way that we should ignore the woman. And yes she doesn’t threaten anything.

But I also think some people need to take things they see online slightly less fucking seriously (says I writing a small paragraph)

Because at the end of the day it’s just a fandom. It’s not in real life.

And i genuinely don’t think most of us are thinking that deep about what we say.

It really isn’t that deep.

I just rewatched “The Greek Interpreter” and god when they held hands

I can’t

And Holmes was so majestic in this as well

I just love this episode so much

sorry for the quality 🙈

[fandom-oneshots-etc]

✨ Dropping by to request literally anything sherlock x reader - would love something with awkward idiots in love ✨

🍄 Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

🍄 Genre: Fluff

🍄 Summary: When Sherlock goes off on a frantic tangent, John knows exactly who to call, the idiot in love with him...

🍄 Word Count: 2084

🍄 Abbreviations: N/A

🍄 Warnings: N/A

🍄 Note: I hope this is what you were looking for Anon! :)

“What’s he doing this time?” you answered the phone as John’s name appeared. You had become so accustomed to the calls at all odd hours of the day, usually all pertaining to your high-functioning sociopath of a friend, Sherlock. Odd hours like the one now.

You had just sat down in your cloud chair, kindle in hand ready to read the next chapter of your gripping (b/g) when the phone had pinged, angrily vibrating against the coffee table-top. A puff of air had moved the stray hairs touching your face as you instantly recognized the personalized ring tone you had installed. You knew that John wouldn’t call you unless it was at least a code blue, blue-in-the-face blue. A colour code the two of you had created to describe the different moods of Sherlock Holmes.

“I’m so sorry-” You rolled your eyes with a little smile. “He’s just off on one. He solved the case, you know the one with the woman and the suitcases? He’s been off the walls since then. Can’t get him to settle, he’s talking about renovating the flat, knocking walls down for more ‘thinking space’. I think Mrs Hudson’s threatened to evict him already,” You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped your lips at the thought of the sweet old woman threatening your tall friend, knowing very well that she’d mean every word. You could already picture the offended horror on Sherlock’s face at her threats.

“I’m on my way,” you reassured before hanging up the phone and pushing yourself out of the comfortable chair. Slipping your kindle into your bag, you grabbed your keys from the hook and turned off the lights. You didn’t bother changing out of your night clothes,, instead your threw a long coat over your pajamas and slipped on your trainers before heading out of the flat. You weren’t exactly keen on the idea of getting a cab this late at night, but you preferred that over walking the streets alone in the dark.

Thankfully, Baker Street was only a few roads away and the journey was nice and short with the lack of traffic at this time of night. Looking up at 221B you could see tat it was one of the only lights on in the street. You slipped the spare key out of your bag and unlocked the door to 221B.

Mrs Hudson reached the bottom of the stairs in an angry flurry huffing as she passed, a few rushed ‘oh dear’s escaping her lips as she passed you, only briefly making eye contact as she scurried back into her flat, red-faced. Taking that as your cue, you started up the stairs to the flat, fully expecting to see the flat in complete disarray, and you weren’t disappointed.

The papers from the now-closed case were still strewn across the flat, stuck to the walls, laid out on the desk, tucked under the tea cups on the small side table. The tea cups, several sat on the desk untouched and probably growing a few types of fungus that Sherlock could happily describe for you. The pillows from the sofa were thrown about the flat as Sherlock stood on the sofa, feet buried in the sofa cushions and tape measure I hand as he stretched it across the wall in front of him, a HB pencil clenched between his teeth.

“Thank God you’re here!” John poked his head out of the kitchen as if weary of the man in the living room. He gestured for you to step into the kitchen, with a final glance at the tall consulting detective, you slipped into the kitchen.

“How long has he been like this?” you asked, setting your bag down on the cluttered kitchen table. Piles and piles of old experiments were stacked tall, filling up almost the entire surface of the table and from the darkening black patch by one of the chairs you had no doubt that Sherlock had blown something up today, yet another thing to add to the list of problems for you and John.

“A couple of hours now, I stupidly thought that solving the case would change his mood, but it only seemed to make him more antsy for another one-” He sighed. “Sorry it’s so late, I know you usually sit down and read about now. I didn’t want to bother you but with Mrs Hudson threatening eviction I thought it best not to wait.” You smiled at your friend and shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s been a while since he’s been like this so it was expected sooner or later. Better sort him out before Mrs Hudson really does chuck him out.” The two of you chuckle at the thought of a homeless Sherlock, it’s not really a sight either of you can imagine fully. But you had no doubt that his homeless network would really find him the best spots in London to squat.

“You don’t mind if I take a quick walk do you? I’ve been cooped up in here for a few hours trying to sort him out, just need bit of fresh air.” You shook your head and hurried John out of the kitchen door and down the stairwell. You knew it would be easier to deal with Sherlock without John around anyway. Not that John was a problem, but with Sherlock like this and his habit of making unsavory comments without fully thinking of the consequences, it would be easier than having a row start between the two flat mates.

You paused for a moment and brushed your finger against the black mark on the table top and inspected the pad of your finger. That’ll come off with some polish, you decided. Stepping back out of the kitchen and into the living room, your eyes zeroed in on the consulting detective who had now abandoned the tape measure and was gently knocking against the wall looking for a hollow sounding area.

“No.” You spoke clearly, catching the attention of the detective who had yet to notice you. Spinning on his heels, his eyes flashed at you wide and adorable. It kind of reminded you of a child who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. His mouth started to open but you shut him down quickly. “No,” You gave him a stern look. “That wall has all of the major electricity lines and one of the main water pipes. No.”

“There’s no way you could possibly know that just from looking at the wall-” Sherlock argued.

“No I couldn’t. I know because I had to get the schematics for the flat after you started shooting the walls because you were banned from in-person cases and blew the power out in this side of London,” You reminded. “An event that Mycroft still calls ‘The Great COVID Blackout’.” Sherlock’s nose scrunched at the mention of his brother. “Now, are you going to sit down or am I going to have to use that self-defense training program you insisted I go on to incapacitate you?” You could almost see the cogs turning in his head as his eyes narrowed at you, trying to deduce if you were serious or not. Your unwavering stance must have given him his answer as he slowly stepped down from the sofa and settled his feet back on the floor calmly.

“Why are you here?” You were very rarely offended by Sherlock’s blunt words, it just wasn’t worth the energy when you also knew that he rarely meant it to come across in that way. “No, don’t answer that. You’re here in your night clothes, your kindle is tucked in your bag and your hair is done up which means it’s late- John called you. Why?”

“Probably because his roommate was threatened with eviction after planning to renovate their rented flat and set the landlady off.” “Mrs Hudson wouldn’t evict me. She still owes me for getting her husband executed.”

“Favours do expire Sherlock. They have their limits.” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Really?” You nod. “Oh. Well John wouldn’t let her evict me.” “Have you been experimenting today?” You think back to the two mugs settled on the kitchen counter, one sporting a brownish green sludge at the bottom.

“Yes, why- Oh.”

“Right come on,” You clapped your hands, moving towards him and grabbing one of his hands to pull him over to his chair. You ignored the sounds of protest from Sherlock as you settled on the chair and tugged on his arm. “Sit down,” you instructed. Sherlock sighed and complied, dropping onto the floor and crossing his legs underneath him. You grabbed the TV remote and switched it on. “What should we watch? Bones or Criminal Minds?” you pondered.

“Why do we have to watch a crime show? They’re always so inaccurate-” You flick the TV onto an episode of Criminal Minds. “Look, the killer’s using tape- what about finger prints? They don’t need to study his behaviour, just find the prints-” You smiled softly, fiddling with a few strands of Sherlock’s curly hair in your lap as he rattled on about the mistakes of the Unsub and the BAU team.

It was around an hour later that John returned to the flat. Pushing open the front door of 221, he was relieved to hear nothing. The light under Mrs Hudson’s door was now off, meaning she had slipped into bed, no longer tormented by her tenant’s renovation plans. The light on the landing let off a soft glow as John started up to the flat. A heavy wave of relief swept through him as he noticed the lack of banging, drilling, sawing or any construction noises at all. You had managed to talk him out of it for now. He reached the top of the stairs and could hear the muffled sounds of the TV in the flat. Stepping into the kitchen he could see that the place was still a pig sty but at least there wasn’t any knocked down walls or partially constructed extensions. The mess could be dealt with in the morning.

As he turned the corner and peeked - still a little cautiously into the living room - a soft smile graced his face. Your back was pressed against one of the arms of Sherlock’s chair, your legs swung over the opposite side. Sherlock’s was still perched on the floor with his legs crossed, his head dropped back against your stomach, with your right hand resting on top. Your fingers rhythmically threading through his curly brown locks, soothingly. John flicked his eyes up to the TV screen to see an episode of Criminal Minds playing, Sherlock’s face scrunched in distaste as he watched the team profile the murderer. Your other hand held your kindle tightly, your fingers set comfortably around the flower pop socket on the back as you occasionally flicked the pages with your thumb.

John couldn’t help but watch in awe for a moment. No one he knew had ever been able to soothe Sherlock in the way that you could. Not him, not Mrs Hudson and certainly not his brother, not even his parents had this calming effect that you had. He wondered if Sherlock would ever confess to the effect you had on him, or explain why you had such an effect on him. John knew the reason, Mrs Hudson knew the reason… did Sherlock? Did you?

You were always just as oblivious as Sherlock. John had mentioned to you once or twice about how you effected the consulting detective, but you couldn’t see it. You wouldn’t admit to the effect you so clearly had on him nor would you confess to the butterflies that whirled in your stomach whenever you were this close to him.

You caught John’s eye and must’ve made an educated guess of what he was thinking as you rolled your eyes and shook your heads. Deciding that now was probably not the time to bring up the obvious pink elephant that shared the living room with the three of you, John mouthed a ‘thank you’ to you and you nodded, letting out a quiet yawn. He bidded a quick farewell to the pair of you before shuffling out of the kitchen and upstairs to his room. On his way up the stairs, he couldn’t help but wonder how long the two of you would remain oblivious.

As he reached the top of the staircase he paused and chuckled. Lovesick idiots.

[ask-geralt]

You guys want to know one of my favorite things about Edwin? He loves how smart his friends are. He gets so excited and outright a w e d whenever they think of something clever, make a keen observation, or offer a solution to their problems. All I ever want to write is Edwin who eloquently gushes and praises his friends' intelligence and skills. Edwin who, when the occasion arises, gases them up when they get self deprecating, because to him it's not an opinion, it's a FACT that they're smart, and good, and kind, and brave. That they're all equals. I would even go so far as to say he, himself, feels he has to continuously work and study so hard to keep up with them, to continue contributing.

Genuinely I feel like it's a pretty big factor in his hostility towards Crystal in the beginning. When Charles and Edwin first talk with her post-exorcism, she's unimpressed with the work they did to save her, and she insults the name of their agency, which Edwin and Charles are both clearly fond of. Charles, who's used to laughing at digs far more hurtful than that considering his life before death, let's it roll off him easily, but Edwin takes it more personally. From there, he grows jealous because of the attention Charles is giving her, made worse when Crystal proves her powers ARE faster than the methods the boys used before meeting her. Edwin feels like he needs to prove he's better, or at least still useful where Crystal isn't ("We all have talents.") to Charles, because if Crystal can do everything Edwin does, and does it better, then why would Charles keep sticking around? And of course, Crystal returns his hostility beat for beat, as she should. I feel like her subtle attempts to smooth things over and get along with Edwin aren't talked about enough, like she lets him get away with so many snide and openly rude comments before she starts biting back again in episode one. But Edwin holds a grudge and she shouldn't have to take his attitude towards her lying down, not forever, and neither of them are willing to, say, try and ask the other why they're so snippy towards each other, or apologize lol. Honestly their dynamic is so layered and fun to pick apart!!

What really seals it for me is the contrast in his reaction to Crystal compared to Niko. He warms to Niko pretty much immediately, calling her charming and quickly getting down to business on saving her, without even a token protest about helping yet another living girl. And I think that comes down to her attitude towards their assistance, what she brings to the table for the group's dynamic, and her willingness to let them do their thing without rocking the boat on methodology. She doesn't come across as a threat to Edwin's friendship (repressed and unacknowledged crush absolutely not helping either) with Charles, since she and Charles don't interact much, especially not one on one the way he and Crystal do, so she doesn't ruffle Edwin's feathers at all compared to how instantly and repeatedly Crystal gets under his skin.

All this to say I love all four of them, I love that they've all got their strengths and skills, I love that there's also that overlap, that they all get to do detective-ing and that Edwin doesn't get that petty protectiveness over that role. Yes he feels threatened by Crystal, but that has everything to do with Charles and nothing to do with her being competent, in and if itself. He doesn't see himself as a Sherlock Holmes with three Watsons following him around. He likes it when the others are clever, when he's not being a petty bitch (affectionate) who hates change/new things lmao

[ohwatson]

today is a good day to remember that sherlock holmes canonically helped a closeted lesbian (who was having an affair with another woman) escape her marriage with a man who was blackmailing her (threatening to expose the affair & her secret) by helping her get the blackmail material back so that she could come out on her own terms and go and live happily with her partner, sherlock holmes loves lesbians confirmed.

[mwagneto]

okay just to clear this up since people are spreading misinfo even though the truth is way funnier. SHERLOCK HOLMES HAS BEEN IN THE PUBLIC DOMAIN FOR AGES. a few stories haven't, sure, but the doyle estate doesn't give a fuck what you do with him either way. he was already gay in 1970 (private life of sh) and was a jolly & emotional guy in 1979 (murder by decree).

when you see people/articles saying the ""doyle estate"" threatened to sue people for things, such as guy ritchie for making him too gay in his 2009&2011 movies, that is NOT THE DOYLE ESTATE!!!!!! all those stories are about one single woman, Andrea Plunket. her claim to Holmes is that she married someone who owned US copyrights to some Holmes stories but the thing is. they got divorced in the NINETIES and she has Zero claims to Holmes. she's literally going insane about Holmes possibly being gay thirty years after her husband owned the rights to him, she literally never has and never will, and people have been doing whatever they wanted to Holmes for decades now. it's obviously all a play to squeeze some money out of anyone she can, the entire story is so insane i suggest you guys look it up and read about it more but tldr:

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (18)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer and Y/n resolve their feelings. wc: 3k A/n: You have no idea how happy I am being able to write fluff after seventeen parts. SEVENTEEN. Only happiness from now on (which isn't much because sadly there are two parts left)

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17

THE FIRST THING she became aware of was the constant noise ringing in her ears. The soft hum of the room greeted her as she slowly drifted into consciousness. Feeling slightly disoriented, she blinked her eyes open, adjusting to the muted light filtering through the half-closed curtains as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings.

Hospital. She was in a hospital. The sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the air as a sudden wave of panic threatened to engulf her, but then a gentle, calm voice cut through her confusion. Her gaze shifted to the side, and relief washed over her as she spotted Spencer sitting on a nearby chair, engrossed in the book he was holding.

For a moment, she observed him—the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, the strands of hair that fell across his forehead, and the intensity in his eyes as they traced the words. His soft-spoken tone was soothing, and after a moment of listening to him, she realized he was reading the book aloud for her.

"...and with that, Sherlock Holmes deduced the mystery, much to the amazement of Dr. Watson," his voice filled the room, and she couldn't help but smile faintly at the choice of literature. She shifted in the bed, and the quiet rustle of sheets prompted him to look up from his book.

"Hey," he greeted softly, placing the book on the bedside table. "You're awake."

She responded with a nod, accompanied by a small, appreciative smile. "Sherlock Holmes, huh?"

"I found a copy in the waiting room. Someone must've left it," he explained. "Thought I'd borrow it before giving it to Lost and Found."

Her gaze lingered on the tired lines across his features. "And you decided to read when you could have slept?"

"I wanted to be here when you woke up again."

A soft smile adorned her face but her brows twisted into a frown as she registered his words. "Again?"

"You've been in and out of consciousness." He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. "The doctor said it's common among patients suffering from dehydration."

Her frown deepened, and the weight of the situation began to sink in as she processed his words. Her fingers unconsciously traced the edge of the thin hospital blanket for comfort.

"Is Eric..."

"He's injured, although not fatally. My shot wasn't aimed for anywhere vital," he explained, shifting his chair closer. "But he's in custody. You're safe now."

Relief washed over her, but a flicker of fear remained in her eyes. "I don't remember much after what happened."

"That's understandable," he said gently. "Your body and mind went through a lot. It might take some time to process everything."

She managed a weak nod and her eyes traced the outlines of the IV line snaking into her arm. "How long have I been here?"

Spencer glanced at the clock on the wall, his brows furrowing slightly. "About a day."

"A day," she repeated, the concept feeling both distant and immediate. The realization settled in and a pause hung in the air before her gaze shifted to him again, seeking clarification. "As in twenty-four hours?"

His face twisted into a frown, uncertainty clouding his features. "...yes?" he replied, unsure where she was going with this.

"And I've been sleeping for most of the time?"

"Well... yes."

"And you? How much have you slept?" When she was met with silence, her expression softened as her eyes took in his weariness. "Why are you still awake, Spencer?"

He sighed, a conflicted expression crossing his face. "I just... I didn't want to leave your side."

She studied him, her eyes tracing the lines of exhaustion that clung to his face. Deep lines etched across his forehead and the shadows underneath his eyes spoke volumes about everything he endured. The fading bruises, the slouch in his shoulders, and the tousled strands of his hair all painted a picture of someone who had weathered more than their fair share.

It was evident that even the hospital room had taken its toll on him, and the subtle change into a fresh shirt was his small attempt to regain a pretense of normalcy. But who was she to judge? Here she was, lying on the bed, all weak and worn out. She couldn't deny that she, too, must be presenting a less-than-picture-perfect image.

With a gentle sigh, Spencer eased into the chair beside her bed. "How are you feeling?"

She took a moment, assessing the sensations in her weakened body. The dull ache in her limbs, the lingering throbbing in her head.

"Like I've been hit by a truck," she finally responded with a smile, trying to ease the tension. But his head suddenly seemed to be elsewhere. He absentmindedly nodded, and it was clear to her that something was on his mind.

"Hey," she spoke softly. "What's wrong?"

He looked up, meeting her eyes, and she waited for his response. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and finally found the courage to speak.

"I'm sorry."

Confusion clouded her eyes. "For what?"

"For... everything." He let out a sigh. "For hurting you, for not being there when you needed help, for not realizing what was happening sooner. For not seeing the signs."

She shook her head. "You can't blame yourself. You were there when it mattered, and you saved me."

"But I should've protected you from the start," he insisted, his eyes searching hers for understanding. "I should've stayed with you—"

"It's not your fault. Don't apologize for something that he did."

"But I could've prevented it from happening if I didn't leave your house in the first place."

She studied him for a moment before letting out a sigh. "Look, if you're going to keep on apologizing, might as well do it in comfort." She shifted over on the bed, making room between them. "Come here."

His gaze flickered between her and the mattress. "I'm not sure that's allowed."

"What? Do hospitals have a policy against sharing a bed with visitors?"

"Well, technically—"

"Spencer," she interjected. "Just lie down with me. Please."

He hesitated for a moment, but after a brief internal debate, he relented, deciding that being close to her trumped any hospital regulations. Slowly, he settled onto the bed, careful not to disturb any wires or machines. But then she suddenly sat up and Spencer frowned. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Outstretch your arm."

"What?"

"Outstretch your arm," she repeated.

He followed her instructions, and she laid back down, resting on his arm. As she nestled against his side, he couldn't ignore the warmth that spread through him. He simply looked at her, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement when she kept pressing herself against him. His hand instinctively fell on her waist. "What exactly are you up to?"

"Testing a theory. I read somewhere that lying on someone's arm can regulate their heartbeat and help with stress. And given your guilt-ridden apology, it seems you could use a bit of stress relief." She then settled a hand over his chest. "But it doesn't seem like it's working, your heart is beating really fast."

He felt a blush creeping up his cheeks as her fingers traced gentle circles over his chest, the warmth of her touch sending ripples through him. "Well, you're lying unexpectedly close to me, I wasn't exactly prepared for that."

She laughed softly, the sound echoing in the quiet room. "Just... try to relax. You've been through a lot too. You don't have to hold yourself together for my sake."

He slowly nodded, letting himself sink into the moment with her. The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest against his side, the gentle pressure of her hand over his heart. But guilt still rippled through him when he studied the weariness in her eyes, or the IV line sticking into her arm, or the bandage wrapped around her hand. He hated seeing her so weak that he couldn't help but blurt out another apology.

"I really am sorry."

She shifted slightly, turning to look at him. "I know you are."

"I wish I could have done more to protect you," he continued.

She reached up, tenderly brushing a strand of hair from his face. "You did what you could with the information you had. No one could have expected what happened."

He sighed, and she continued to trace gentle lines across his face as they fell into a comfortable silence. But much to her dismay, it didn't last long when he suddenly interrupted their moment. "I... I have another apology."

She was the one who let out a sigh this time. "What is it now?"

"I..." he hesitated, searching for the right words as his eyes wandered around every corner of the room but on her. "I-I want to apologize for being rough on you that day when we... when we—you know."

She raised an eyebrow, amused at where this conversation was heading. "You mean when we had sex?"

He nodded and diverted his gaze away from her, looking slightly embarrassed. She laughed and cupped his face, forcing him to look back in her direction. "Why are you suddenly so embarrassed?"

His cheeks flushed a shade of pink as he met her gaze. "I'm not used to discussing these things so openly, especially when I feel like I mishandled the situation."

Her laughter softened into a warm smile. "Spencer, we were both in a difficult place that day, I wouldn't say you mishandled anything." She leveled her gaze on him. "I trusted you. I knew you weren't going to hurt me, which you didn't, and I can assure you that I enjoyed the sex very, very much."

"But I-I tied you," he insisted. "I used handcuffs on you. Handcuffs."

"Well, did it ever occur to you that I liked being tied? That I like it when you're in control?"

He studied her, and let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding when he fully registered she was being serious. "You do?"

She chuckled at his wide-eyed expression. "Yes, Spencer, I do. I thought it was very obvious." She gave him a smile, fingers tracing soothing patterns on his cheek. "But if it makes you feel any better, we can come up with a safe word."

"What's a safe word?"

His brows furrowed in confusion, prompting her to burst into laughter. She couldn't help but find his innocence endearing.

"It's something you say to stop or slow down during sex, especially if things get uncomfortable or overwhelming," she explained, her laughter subsiding.

"Oh," Spencer said, a hint of realization dawning on his face. "That makes sense."

She nodded, still smiling. "So the next time we explore our sexual needs, we can use our safe word."

There was a pause before he murmured, "Next time?"

Her smile faltered at his question. "Do you not want a next time?"

Noticing her sudden withdrawal, he placed a hand behind her, pulling her closer to him. "I want there to be a next time," he confirmed and sighed in relief when he felt her relaxing again. "You know, I just want to spend more time with you in general."

Her smile returned, warmed by the sincerity in his words. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "I want to take you to dinner."

"Dinner sounds lovely."

"And take you out on a date."

Her smile widened. "What kind of date do you have in mind?"

"Well, I was thinking of the museum. Or maybe the library." Then his eyes lit up with a hint of excitement. "There's also this planetarium I've always wanted to visit. Did you know that the planetarium nearby has one of the most advanced digital projection systems? It's supposedly a state-of-the-art projector that can simulate the night sky with incredible accuracy."

A genuine smile graced her lips. The excitement in his voice brought a sense of relief to her. It wasn't just a reaction to his enthusiasm about their planned date, but also the subtle transformation in his demeanor. He seemed more relaxed.

"That sounds amazing." And just because she couldn't stop herself from flustering him, she added, "But the real question is, will there be sex in this future date?"

Spencer's reaction was immediate, his face flushing with embarrassment. "Stop teasing me."

"I'm serious," she laughed, thoroughly enjoying his momentary discomfort. "I want to know what I'll be expecting."

He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. "I guess... If you want to, then yes."

"Of course, I do, but I want to hear it from you." She grinned when he gave her a pointed look. "Spencer, you've given me more orgasms than I can count, why is it so hard for you to say the word sex?"

Spencer shook his head, attempting to brush off the embarrassment that lingered. "You're unbelievable." 

Despite his attempt to resist, there was a subtle twinkle in his eyes that betrayed the amusement he couldn't fully conceal. A reluctant smile stretched across his lips, and he finally conceded, "Yes, Y/n, we will have sexual intercourse in the future."

She laughed, the sound echoing in the room. "How romantic."

Her teasing expression softened into a warm smile, and Spencer couldn't help but be captivated by the warmth in her eyes. Feeling a surge of affection, he gently pulled her closer. There was a subtle shift in the air. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, she nestled into his embrace. But it was hard to fully linger in his arms when her IV line seemed to be getting in their way.

"Hold on, I think I have to turn around," she said, her fingers tracing the thin tubing connected to the IV. Spencer released his hold. "I should probably get off the bed."

"Don't you dare," she threatened, and turned to the other direction gracefully, adjusting herself without much difficulty. Once settled, she pressed her back against his chest and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her again.

"Better?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

She nodded, a contented smile on her face. "So much better."

Spencer held her a little tighter, and somehow, his hand found its way to hers, softly intertwining their fingers. He held on to her as if he didn't want to let go, as if the simple act of holding her hand offered a sense of grounding in the aftermath of everything that had happened. And with a contented sigh, she leaned back into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. She reveled in the moment because life had taken them through twists and turns, and yet, here they were—finding solace in each other's company. The warmth of his hold enveloped her like a protective shield, and for a fleeting moment, the worries that had weighed on her seemed to dissipate.

Gratitude swelled within her—a deep, heartfelt acknowledgment of this moment, of being alive, and of the shared embrace that grounded her to the present. 

"Hey, Spence?"

"Hmm?"

Her fingers gently traced over his hand, still intertwined with hers, savoring the connection that seemed to defy the odds. "Thank you for staying with me."

She felt a reassuring squeeze from his hand.

"I'm here for as long as you need me."

"Don't you think this is a little too much?"

Garcia threw Morgan a glare as they walked down the hospital corridor, her heels echoing in the narrowed space. Her eyes then shifted to the balloons in her hand, the container of freshly baked cookies she made in the other hand, and the bouquet of beautifully arranged flowers dangling from Morgan's arms.

"She deserves a warm welcome after what she's been through," she countered. "And it's my first time meeting her in person, I can't come empty-handed. That's so unlike me."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, sure, but we're just visiting. It's not a party."

Garcia huffed. "I believe in spreading happiness wherever I go. And besides, who wouldn't want flowers, balloons, and delicious cookies after being stuck in a hospital bed?" She looked over to the rows of the door down the hallway. "What room did Reid say she was in?"

Morgan glanced down the corridor lined with identical-looking doors. "Room 108."

Garcia led the way, her heels clicking purposefully as she cradled the balloons and cookies with a determined air. Morgan followed, still holding the bouquet, and couldn't help but shake his head at Garcia's unwavering commitment. As they approached the door, she paused to adjust her cookies and then knocked lightly on the door, only to be met with silence.

She turned to Morgan. "Do you think she's asleep?"

"I don't know." He pulled out his phone and tried to dial Spencer's number, only to be met with a constant line of ringing. "He's not answering."

"I think we should just go in."

Morgan hesitated for a moment, then nodded in agreement. Garcia took a deep breath and gently pushed the door open, stepping inside. The room beyond was dimly lit, with the curtains drawn, followed by the soft hum of medical equipment filling the air. It seemed like an ordinary hospital room, but what seemed out of place was the sight before them.

Because Spencer lay on the bed with her, both peacefully sleeping.

"Oh my god," Garcia gushed, stepping further into the room. “Oh my god.”

Morgan couldn't help but wear a surprised smile. "Well, that explains why he wasn't answering his phone."

Garcia carefully placed the balloons at the foot of the bed and Morgan followed behind her, setting the bouquet on the bedside table. She then motioned for him to place the container of cookies there as well before she held her hands together, watching the scene before them. "This is like a scene straight out of a romance movie."

Unable to contain her excitement, she took out her phone and snapped a discreet photo of them. Morgan shot her a disapproving look, but she just waved her hand dismissively and whispered, "It's for the memories."

"Come on," he insisted, grabbing onto her arm. "Let's leave these two to rest."

"One more picture!"

Garcia's voice echoed in the room, and Spencer stirred in his sleep. Morgan and Garcia stilled for a moment, holding their breath. They waited for another second, and thankfully, the couple seemed to be too deep in slumber to hear the commotion in the room.

Morgan gave Garcia a pointed look. "That's enough, Garcia. Let's go."

"Give me a minute,” she lingered. “Let me take one last video."

Morgan shook his head. He took her phone out of her grasp, ignoring her protest, and finally dragged her out of the room—leaving the two lovebirds behind.

>> NEXT PART

a/n: that last scene is kind of a bonus, I just thought it was cute

.

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[lilmoonbunny]

Denial; Mycroft Holmes

Mycroft only seeked you out to deduce you (aka, how Mycroft realised he liked you).

John and Sherlock were, without a doubt, the loudest neighbours that Y/N had ever had.

Gunshots at God only knows what hour, constant stabbing, banging, and so on. Despite this, she still considered them dear friends and the best neighbours that she had ever had. Sure, they were weird and loud, but they were also kind and genuine, at least for the most part. Alongside this, they also appreciated her baking, especially after long cases.

A gentle knock sounded on the door the 221B catching the attention of three people.

“You can come in, Y/N,” Sherlock called from behind the door, greeting the woman with a nod before turning his attention back to Mycroft whilst John smiled at her.

“Hi, Sherly. Hi, John.” She smiled at the two friends before turning to the older Holmes brother. “Hi, Mr Holmes.” Y/N greeted him with a smile. Although she hadn’t met him before, it wasn’t difficult to deduce who he was; the expensive suit and the fact Sherlock was glaring at him gave it away.

“Sherly?” Mycroft spat, grimacing at the nickname given to his brother. “Who on Earth would you let call you that?” He asked.

“This is Y/N, our neighbour. What have you brought for us today? I’ve been looking forward to this all week.” The sweet smile Sherlock gave to the woman made Mycroft feel ill. He had no clue who this woman was and absolutely no idea why they seemed to be this close.

“Chocolate cake, sugar cookies, and love.” She joked, beginning to laugh at the way Mycroft audibly gagged. “I’m only kidding. No love.”

“I should certainly hope not,” came Mycroft’s response, one which simply made her laugh again.

“Are you jealous, Mycroft?”

“Because of the cake, he is.” Sherlock interrupted, waving Myrcoft off. “No, I won’t take the case. You can leave now.”

“This is an urgent matter, brother mine.”

“Don’t care.”

With a groan and a roll of his eyes, Mycroft lifted himself to his feet and prepared to leave.

“I’ll leave these with you, just in case you change your mind. Goodbye brother mine. John.” The hesitation was obvious on Mycroft’s face, despite how well he typically hid his emotions, as he faced Y/N.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr Holmes.” Y/N smiled sweetly, earning a simple nod from him before he left.

Sherlock, who had leaned to grab the tub of baked goods from the woman’s hands, rolled his eyes as Mycroft left and immediately began to eat.

It wasn’t long until Y/N’s entire life had been researched.

There wasn’t much there. No criminal record, a few jobs, occasional moves, but no sign of her posing any danger to Sherlock and, by association, John. However, the way Mycroft felt upon seeing her was unusual, so he decided to do his own investigation.

“Morning, Mr Holmes,” he was greeted before he reached the empty counter. “Welcome to my bakery! Would you like anything?”

“Just a coffee, please. Black.” Mycroft nodded, not returning the smile she had given, despite the odd feeling it gave him. She was evil and he would prove it to Sherlock.

“Coming right up! Take a seat wherever you’d like, and I’ll bring it over.”

As Mycroft occupied a seat, he took a moment to properly assess the woman making his drink.

She didn’t seem threatening: a content smile on her lips as she prepared his coffee, humming a quiet tune that he barely picked up on. In fact, she didn’t seem out of the ordinary at all, but the feeling when he first saw her – a feeling Mycroft couldn’t explain – had him needing to investigate her further.

“Here you go, Mr Holmes.” Y/N said, placing a hot coffee and chocolate cake on the table in front of him. “Sherlock mentioned that you like cake, so I grabbed you some. It’s all on the house.”

“Why?”

With a small laugh, she responded without hesitation. “You’re Sherlock’s brother.”

How odd, Mycroft thought to himself. She doesn’t even know me and she’s giving me things for free…

Despite his thoughts, Mycroft simply nodded, watching as she took a seat opposite him. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s quiet today so I figured I’d try and keep you company the best I can. I’m sure you have better company than me, though.”

“I don’t mind,” he replied before even thinking. It was safe to say that he didn’t enjoy the way his chest felt whilst he watched her smile.

Maybe she’s a witch? No, don’t be stupid, Mycroft. They don’t exist.

“So,” Y/N’s voice broke the man from his thoughts. “It’s a funny story how me, Sherlock, and John met. I was actually working and Sherlock bursts in demanding to talk to me. My baking stuff had been found at a crime scene and he thought it was me!”

“How interesting.” Came Mycroft’s blunt reply, even if he was intrigued.

“You listened to it, so you must care, even just a little bit. I think that’s a win for me!”

Mycroft couldn’t help the tiniest smile that crawled onto his lips, but he internally prayed that nobody noticed it, especially her. She, however, seemed oblivious to the movement, simply staring over his shoulder and out of the window.

“Anyway, what was he like growing up? Was he like he is now? Blunt and rude?” Y/N asked with a giggle.

“He wasn’t, actually. He was rather sweet. He liked playing pretend with his friend; he always wanted a dog too.” Came Mycroft’s reply. “His favourite thing was pirates.” He said with a fond look in his eyes. Sherlock wasn’t going to be happy when he found out that he had told her, but he couldn’t resist answering her question.

Mycroft watched closely as the woman in front of him grinned, the bright and happy smile a nice contrast to what he was used to whilst working with the government. He couldn’t help but smile back, noting how her smile widened further as he did so.

“That’s sweet. I couldn’t imagine that, to be honest,”

It was time to ask the question that was on his mind. “Are you attracted to Sherlock?”

“Sherlock?” Y/N said, bursting into laughter. “No, absolutely not. He’s more like an annoying older brother. Same with John. We’re just friends, and, well, neighbours too.”

Confusion spread over Mycroft as she felt the weight on his shoulders lift at her words; she was telling the truth.

“How is she?” Sherlock asked the moment he answered the phone.

“How is who?” Mycroft’s voice sounded through the device.

“Y/N,”

“Why do you assume that I know?”

“It’s obvious you were there earlier.”

“…”

“Well, that and Mrs Hudson told us.”

“Of course she did.” Mycroft said with an involuntary roll of his eyes.

“So, how was it?”

“It was fine.”

“You like her then?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, you went to see her. It’s quite obvious, Mycroft. Come on, I thought you were smarter than that.”

Mycroft simply put the phone down.

He did not like her.

The next time that Mycroft came across Y/N was when it was raining.

He hadn’t wanted to seem ‘creepy’ by seeking her out again for more investigations and deductions, so he simply waited. She was friends with his brother, it wasn’t like their paths wouldn’t cross at some point. Besides, he didn’t want Sherlock to think that he liked her.

“Raining real bad tonight, isn’t it?” The driver spoke to Mycroft. He was new, so Mycroft couldn’t exactly blame him for attempting some type of conversation with him; it was still annoying, though.

Anthea, looking up from her phone was what caught Mycroft’s attention. “I feel bad for her.” She said, nodding towards a soaked woman. It only took Mycroft a moment to realise who it was.

“Pull over,” he stated bluntly, grabbing his umbrella. He simply ignored the look he was receiving from his assistant.

It had been a long day filled with rude customers, and to make it worse, it was raining, and she had forgotten her coat. Today couldn’t be going any worse for Y/N.

Shivering wildly and soaked to the core, Y/N huffed, watching the way her breath instantly evaporated; it was clearly below freezing, but she held out hope that the rain would stop and she would be home soon.

Her hope seemed to pay off, though, since she could no longer feel the rain. As she looked up at the sky, she spotted a familiar face.

“Mycroft?”

“Y/N.”

“What are you-“

“Get in.” He said, pointing towards the car before wordlessly leading her towards it, still holding the umbrella above her, even if he was getting wet.

“You don’t have to, Mycroft.” She said as he ushered her in and shut the door behind them both. “I mean, I’m soaking your car!”

Mycroft, who could feel the heat on his cheeks from their proximity, simply shook his head. He was too focused on the way her leg was pressed against his as she sat between him and Anthea who stared at her phone with a small smirk.

The ride was void of conversation, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, the only noise was that of Y/N shivering.

After a moment of hesitation, Mycroft shrugged off his jacket and handed her it. “Here.”

There was no chance of refusal, Mycroft wouldn’t allow it, so with a quiet ‘thanks’, Y/N popped the jacket over her shoulders. He just found the chattering of her teeth annoying, was what he told himself.

As they arrived at the flats, Mycroft followed her out of the car.

“Thank you, Mr Holmes.” She said as they stood on the door of her flat.

“Mycroft is fine, Y/N.”

“Thank you… Mycroft.” She said with a small smile before bidding him a goodnight.

“I see you gave her your jacket,” Was all Sherlock said as Mycroft entered 221B.

It was hard. Very hard. Harder than anything Y/N had ever experienced. Having a crush was not easy as it was, but having feelings for Mycroft Holmes was the hardest thing in the world: he rarely showed emotion, he was blunt, he was rude, but most importantly to her, deep down, he was nice.

A small sigh left Y/N’s lips as she worked on her latest batch of cookies for the morning. He was on her mind… again. It was a common occurrence by now.

“We’re not open yet, sorry!” She called over her shoulder at the sound of the door opening. As she turned around to see who it was and apologise again, a blush rushed to her cheeks. “Mycroft! What are you doing here?”

Mycroft stood there, umbrella in hand, and gave a simple shrug. “I was on my way to work so thought I would ‘pop in’ as people say.” He explained, earning a laugh from the baker.

“Modern phrases don’t suit you, Mycroft.” She teased.

With an amused shake of his head, Mycroft took a seat at the table nearest her.

“Want some cookies? They’re fresh out of the oven!”

Mycroft nodded with a grateful smile, always glad to have sweet treats. He would never turn down anyone’s desserts, least of all Y/N’s; not because he liked her and didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but because she was a good baker.

The pair sat in a comfortable silence, Mycroft gladly eating his cookies with an appreciative look whilst Y/N worked on her next batch. There was nothing awkward between them, and there, surprisingly, never had been.

“Are you not at work today?” Y/N broke the silence with a question that was bugging her. She could have sworn Mycroft had always worked this time over the months that she had known him.

Mycroft hesitated for a moment. He was supposed to be there right now but had decided to visit you before. It wasn’t like anyone could fire him for it, he was basically the British government, after all.

“Not yet,” he lied, and he was glad that he was a good liar.

“Oh, okay! I’m happy you came then. I don’t want to bother you.”

“You could never be a bother,” the words fell from his lips before he even registered what his thoughts, and he noticed the blush race up her cheeks, as did she with his.

“Thank you, Mycroft.”

As he stared at her and her rosy cheeks, a million thoughts went through his mind, but they were all related to one thing: her. It was in that moment that he realised the truth, he did like Y/N, and he had been attracted to her since the beginning; that was what he was feeling.

Oh dear…

[cherryrouge]

action

lawyer!harry x lawyer!y/n

warnings: profanity, angst, mentions of murder and death

word count: 2.0k

harry styles is a damn good lawyer. he’s intelligent and calculated, but impulsive when necessary. he’s famous for closing deals before they can ever get before a judge and on the off chance that he does have to go to court, he wins. always.

harry styles is the standard for the firm, that much was clear to y/n. from the moment she stepped foot into her interview for holmes & harrison to where she sits now, in her spacious office with a view over looking manhattan.

y/n had no problem winning. she had been excellent in debate in university and law school. she conducted thorough research on her subjects, never leaving any gap for her to be bested. she was cunning, aggressive where she needed to be, and just a damn good lawyer.

all reasons why harry seemed to feel threatened by her.

before y/n, harry was constantly given the most important cases with the most high class clientele. he was praised at every turn for his accomplishments and everyone kissed the ground he walked on. he was the only one doing the work that he was, handling intense cases, often working over night to get to the bottom of the issue and chip away at the fine details in order to spin the evidence in his favor. and, he was the only one winning. reasonably, the attention, the praise, the power, got to him. his ego inflated and he grew arrogant. two things that y/n could not stand. just as much as harry couldn’t stand sharing the spot light.

y/n had begun working at the firm two years ago as an associate and swiftly climbed her way up to partner. she excelled in each position and proved her spot each time. the office was filled with hushed whispers of her name and enthused remarks about her accomplishments.

when she made partner, she was overcome with excitement. she was finally able to handle cases that matched her level and gave her a bit of a challenge and work with those who inspired her. one of those characters being, harry. harry who won cases. harry who had carried clients through long trials to end up victorious, despite how stacked the odds were. harry who was just a damn good lawyer. what she didn’t realize was how much of an asshole he was because of it. brushing off her attempts to start conversation or build an amiable work relationship, telling her that she could speak to him once she “made it off the playground and into the big leagues like the rest of the partners.”

and yes, he had a point. she had been doing pro-bono cases for months when she first became a partner. but that was just situational. no one else wanted to do them, so she did. and she won every single one of them, without really much effort either. the insinuation that she wasn’t on par with the rest of the partners left her blood boiling and her chest flushed because she was! she had climbed the same ladder they had, she had done similar cases to them, and had victory after victory that mirrored theirs! so what if she was doing pro-bono shit! she had her own office with her name on the door, for christ sake!

the notion that despite all of her labour and focus, she still wasn’t good enough enraged her and fueled her desire, no need, to be better than him. she wanted him to be haunted by her existence.

so when she was called into audrey holmes’s office, the managing partner of holmes & harrison, to invite her to assist harry on his newest case, she was elated.

“this case will not be easy,” audrey warned from her place sat at her desk, “but i have hope that you two can finish this.”

“i do, too,” y/n affirms with a smile, “thank you for this opportunity.” y/n stands from her chair opposite audrey and starts walking to the door, her heeled feet clacking against the hard wood floor.

“y/n,” audrey calls her attention back, a request y/n happily complies to, “play nice.”

“so, you trust me to handle this case entirely by myself?” mitch, y/n’s associate, questions from his cubicle. mitch is a rather quite man, driven yet happier in the background. a hard goal to complete in a place like this.

“you know, there comes a point in every associates life where they have to prove that they can handle a situation by themselves.” y/n states, arms crossed with a smirk over her painted lips. if there was one word to describe her, it would be polished. her hair sleek and blown out, her attire plain yet so classy. she was the kind of woman people either wanted to be or be with.

“but this is kind of important-“

“and you are a big boy so you should be able to handle important cases, yes?”

“yes, ma’am,” he replies sarcastically, “why are you giving this to me anyway?”

“i have to help harry with a murder trial.”

“and audrey is ok with that?”

“she insisted upon it.”

“you guys are gonna kill each other.” he says, matter of factly. his tone elicits a laugh out of y/n.

“y/n,” her name is announced from beside her. the voice familiar and haunting, the accent giving away who her caller was.

“harry, how nice to see you!” she says as she turns to face him, faux cheer laced in her tone.

“running back to the playground so soon?” he questions rhetorically with a teasing pout on his pink lips.

“ha, ha,” she jeers, “i’m actually giving mitch a case of mine, seeing as i have a much bigger issue to take care of.” at the mention of his name, mitch goes to introduce himself by stops before the words can leave his lips, realizing it to be ill-timing for such things pleasantries. harry scoffs at her response.

“what? did audrey finally let you take a case that will actually put money into the firm?” harry’s attempt to put her down brings a smirk to her features.

“she didn’t tell you?” she rest one arm against mitch’s cubicle and her other hand on her hip.

“didn’t tell me what?” he crosses his arms and his brows furrow with confusion.

“you might want to sit down.” she now smiles widely, the confirmation that he has no clue giving her the utmost satisfaction.

“i can assure you that whatever you are going to say to me is hardly shocking enough for sitting to be a requirement.” he says, smugly. her eyebrows raise slightly as if asking him if he would like to place a bet on that idea.

“i will be joining you in court.” a beat of silence as harry processes this information.

“on who’s authorization?” his face is the spitting image of irritation

“audrey’s.” her’s the picture of pride and triumph.

“i was doing just fine without you.” he all but huffs out.

“she seemed to disagree.”

“i am going to have a talk with her.” he states, unfolding his arms from their place on his chest.

“you do that.” with that final comment, he turns on his heels and walks out of the associates office. with a proud smile, y/n turns her head toward mitch.

“jesus christ.” he laughs dryly, opening the case file that y/n had given him. she laughs at his remark.

“hm?”

“does she realize that she’s starting a war?” she smiles softly and pats the side of his cubicle.

“less worrying about this, and more focus on mr. jones and his bed bugs.” she says kindly, taking her leave of him.

her venture back up to the partner’s floor was pleasant. she was much happier knowing how angered harry was by her presence in his case. she’d successfully gotten under his skin like he has to her countless times. she stopped on her way to her own office to speak with louisa, harry’s assistant.

“i’m just unsure of why audrey didn’t tell him the minute she decided that you would be joining the case.” she says softly as to not disrupt the rest of the assistants, a nosey bunch of you ask louisa.

“i’m not sure either, but i’m happy that i got to be the one,” she smiles, a laugh laced into her words, “you should have seen his face.” louisa laughs with her.

the opening of a door calls the attention of the two women to the man walking out of it, a scowl on his face.

“how’d it go?” y/n asks sarcastically, a smirk on her lips.

“in my office, now.” he commands, walking past her and louisa without even sparing them a glance. y/n turns to louisa with widen eyes. louisa mirrors her expression.

following him into his office she somewhat regrets her choice of words earlier, she felt wholly unprepared for whatever he was going to say to her. he opens the door for her, allowing her into the space first. a surprising gesture. once she’s stood in the middle of the office just before his desk, she stays still as he moves around to the other side. the two stand and look at each other. his presence is assertive, always has been but now with his hardened features displaying the image of a man angry, he looks dominant. his hair messy yet perfectly placed on his head, his green eyes slightly narrowed, brows and lips set in a hard line. if this were his appearance in any other context, she’d say it was a good look for him. that it made sense why so many women, opposing attorney’s and fellow partners alike, tried to make a pass on him. but this wasn’t any other context.

“if we are going to work together, you have to understand a couple things.” he states, sternly, sitting himself at his desk chair. y/n follows suit, sitting on one of the two chairs on the other side of the desk.

“i’ve already been breifed,” she says with an expression that mirrors his, “reopened murder trial, our client claims he’s been framed, limited to no evidence proving the fact-“

“i put our client in jail.” his statement puts a halt to her listing.

“i’m sorry?”

“when i was working under simon bernstein at maxwell-darby, he had given me this case. prosecutor in a murder trial where every piece of evidence seemed to work in my clients favor. i won the case and locked away, what i know now, is an innocent man for 20 years.” she nods as he recounts his story.

“simon bernstein is a dirty lawyer. he doesn’t play by the rules and i knew that then. but i figured since he pawned the case off to me, there wasn’t any foul play. an incredibly naïve thought. i know that he tampered with the evidence to this case. i just have to prove it to the judge.”

“so, you reopened a murder trial because of a gut feeling?”

“there’s a shirt that the victim was found wearing. there was blood on it, the corner’s speculated that it belonged to the perpetrator as the placement didn’t make sense with her wounds. it was taken in to be tested, but for some reason none of the dna samples where ever brought to court.”

“bribery?”

“very likely.” harry leans back in his chair, still looking at y/n. she tucks a strand of hair behind her ears as she takes in the information.

“we need to get that shirt.”

“you think i haven’t tried that?”

“they wouldn’t let you use it?”

“stated my reasoning for not needing it in the initial trial.” y/n sighs, leaning back and giving herself some space to think.

“who’s their lawyer?” y/n questions, assessing his past clients.

“district attorney, clifford brown. good friend of simon bernstein.” y/n’s eyes light up at the information.

“i think we have our lead.”

-

hello, everyone! i hope you enjoy the first installment of lawyer!harry x lawyer!y/n. i’m planning on it being a four part series, let me know if you have suggestions for these two!

with love, rory.

[fancyfeathers]

zainiscompletelydone333 asked a question

omg but imagine william's potential darling to be like agatha christie? a mystery writer whose mysteries are almost impossible to solve. whether or not they are as smart as the masterminds or detectives in her books, her stories do come close to confusing even sherlock or william a bit. if you've read her "and then there were none" SPOILERS its about a judge killing people for being evil and that is so william coded. anyways i'm straying far what I mean is william could be a quiet fan, and as the lord of crime, even replicate some of her stories as part of his crimes. watching his darling's face pale at the unknown criminal doing such a thing.....ASDKSHD an when he finally does officially meet her, he wonders if she'l ever base a character off him. a hero, or perhaps a villain?

For some reason this isn’t showing up in my tumblr inbox but thank god for my email cause this is a gem! Thank you @zainiscompletelydone333 for this!

Okay I love Agatha Christie, an actual icon! Fun fact she actually faked her own disappearance in 1926 and the police couldn’t find her for over a week and she just took a vacation to London after her husband threatened to leave her and she said fuck it and decided to treat herself. Then also Arthur Conan Doyle the author of Sherlock Holmes was hired to find her.

Anyway I am getting so off track but I love this lady so much so here we go!!!

But yes William would absolutely adore a darling like her. Imagine him first finding her works for the first time, perhaps one of his brothers or Sebastian or Fred was reading her work and just out of curiosity he picks up one of her books and is just immediately enthralled. Whenever he is not busy he is reading or even rereading one of her books and even begins to be teased by others for his slight addiction to her works.

Then when he and Sherlock is on the train investigating the murder that is when he gets an idea from both this and one of her books.

Weeks later an aristocrat who had been acting as a loan shark was found dead on a train in his compartment, stabbed a dozen times, his door locked from the inside, just like a murder from one of her most famous book…

But what William did not know is that she was on that same train…

And of course she found the body…

As William was making his way back to his seat to join his brothers, he hears a blood curdling scream and he simply chalks it up to someone finding the body. Then the panicked woman is brought to her seat by the staff and she looks a mess, pale faced, tears rolling down her face, hyperventilating, all things someone should be after seeing a dead body.

She is being asked questions when she finally calms down enough and William’s ears prick up as he hears words he never thought he would hear…

“Oh god… this is my fault…”

He turns his head to the booth next to him and sees her in absolute terror as she speaks to the train conductor.

She is right next to him…

She is terrified, horrified even…

And she is beautiful.

After everything from that incident had settled and she is off at home, trying to work on her next work for the life of her but being horrified by what she just witnessed…

Then more deaths come to surface all with the same pattern…

They are based on her books…

The author is absolutely horrified, she is loosing sleep, not eating as she should, and has rarely left her house in weeks…

Then she gets a knock on her door from a certain detective who was hired to look into one of the deaths, Sherlock Holmes. While he may like her books, he has noticed the pattern like she has and has one request for her…

“I want to help you to solve these cases. Who better to solve murders based on books better than the author herself?”

At first she refuses and dismisses him, but then when she is laying in bed that night she realizes he was right.

Her drawing room becomes a mess of her old notes that she had tucked away from when she wrote her book, copies of her her books with dozens bookmarks in them, newspaper clippings all around, and evidence she had Sherlock get access to with his connections that she doesn’t have.

After days of pure investigation and nights of no sleep she finally was able to figure out where the next murder will be, just by what books are left…

But that’s the thing…

There is not a single work of hers left that this murderer has not take inspiration from…

The only thing left is the author, and she can only assume that she is the next target. So without telling Sherlock, she packs up her bags and fakes her own disappearance, to fool both the police and the murderer.

She spends so much time in the shadows, watching and waiting to see who looks into her disappearance, seeing how people react to it, but nothing, not a thing…

It frustrates her even further…

Then she finally decides to return home, feeling like a failure. Her house if just how she left it, even the papers in the drawing room that look like the work of a madman that she will have to clean up after her failure so she can go back to what she is good at, fictional murders not really ones…

No she can’t do that, that would only give the murderer ideas…

So she quits.

No one hears from her for months as she nods herself taking up a librarian position at a local library, at least she is doing something with her literature. She says goodbye to Mr. Holmes and tucks away all her old books and works in progress that will never be finished on the shelves to collect dust for the rest of her life.

At her time working there she gets a frequent visitor at the library, a Mr. William James Moriarty. He had a fascination with murder mystery novels and the two form a quick friendship over their shared love of them. Everything feels like a new start, a clean slate but then he had to ask…

“Will you ever write again?”

That question has her heart hurt because she adores writing, but to sacrifice lives just for what she enjoys, she would never. She shuts down his question quickly and excuses herself, but then avoids the scarlet eyed man as to not be asked that question again.

But as she is laying in bed one night…

She hears the sound of footsteps in her study downstairs…

She feels her heart stop…

She closes her eyes and prays whoever is there will just go away, but they do not. So she musters whatever courage she has left and slips out of bed to see who is there in her study that has been collecting dust for almost a year…

And she approaches the closed door she realizes whoever is behind them must be the person behind the murders that gave plagued her and-

“William?”

The pangs of shock she feels in her chest when she sees the face of William Jane Moriarty looking through her unfinished works that she shelved away what felt like years ago. She must have looked like a deer in headlights as the Lord of Crime looking up at her with a smile, his red eyes staring into her soul…

She is terrified, horrified even…

And she is beautiful.

“Your unfinished work, will it have an ending? Or perhaps will we have to write one ourselves? What do you think, darling?”

The weeks go by and the next time the author is seen in public again she has an engagement ring on her finger and the announcement is being made about their upcoming wedding. The talk of the aristocracy says that she finally has a husband who is willing to deal with her crazied ideas that ended up killing so many people, not knowing that she is on the arm of the man who killed them…

Just for her.

(I could kinda imagine it ending up as a situation like the book Misery by Stephen King where he has her finish her work even if she doesn’t want to, but what differs is that while he doesn’t necessarily keep her locked up physically he does mentally. Sure go run off, he isn’t going to stop his darling, but just watch the bodies stack up pin ways she imagined, he is using her own mind against her which is the most terrifying of prisons. Then soon fear turns into dependency, she becomes terrified of him leaving her because now she has no where else to go but him so he has no need to hide her away when she clings to his arm like a terrified and wounded animal.)

[chimielie]

cw f!reader , mild fraternal violence , atsumu’s terrible lying skills

“I know something you don’t know,” Osamu singsongs, standing in the doorway of their shared bathroom and peering over his brother’s shoulder at his reflection in the mirror.

“Yeah?” Atsumu grunts, yanking a comb through his hair and glaring back at his twin. “Spit it out, shitty ‘Samu. I got places to be, you know?”

“Ouch, don’t shoot the messenger,” Osamu drawls, leaning against the doorframe. “I know that you have a date tonight and you think you’re being sneaky about it.”

“Do not,” Atsumu scowls immediately, dropping the comb and turning around, because he is the worst liar ever. “I don’t even—what are you—I’m taking myself on a date, how about that, it’s called self care, ever heard of it? Huh? Okay? Huh?”

“Okay,” Osamu says, “You’re wearing a tie.”

“I can wear a tie if I want to,” Atsumu sneers, fiddling with it.

“Last summer, at Uncle Jun’s wedding, Ma had to literally threaten to shave your head to get you to wear one.”

“I’m a man now,” Atsumu sticks his chin up, examining his jaw. “I can wear a tie. Hey, did I miss anything while I was shaving?”

“You don’t have any facial hair to shave. And you have a hickey right there.”

“What? Seriously? Where?” Atsumu panics, turning back and forth.

“Ha, I got you—hey!!! Don’t hit me, asshole! I’ll tell Ma!!! And you—you left your fucking bouquet out on my desk, by the way. I told you to stop putting your stuff—no I swear I’ll kill you get offa me get off!—on my desk just because yours is too messy!”

“It was there for five seconds! You left all your laundry on my bed the other day—“

“Where was I s’posed to put it, the floor?”

“Your closet!” Atsumu roars. “Oh, shit, what time is it?” He drops his brother’s shirt collar abruptly.

“5:30,” Osamu says, dusting himself off. “What time you gotta be there?”

“She’s walkin’ over here now, probably,” Atsumu says, rushing back to the bathroom. “Fuck, well since you know, can I use your cologne?”

“It’s the same one you have?”

“It’s better, I don’t know,” Atsumu argues. “Just gimme it, it’s like one spritz.”

“Fine,” Osamu grumbles. “Hey, ‘Tsumu, I know something else you don’t know.”

“What,” Atsumu rolls his eyes as he walks around, frantically shoving his keys and wallet into his pockets, picking up the bouquet—delicate red and white flowers, not bad, scrub, thinks Osamu.

“This ain’t your first date,” he says smugly.

“What are you, Sherlock Holmes?” His brother says. “How d’you figure that?”

Osamu mock-stretches before counting off on his fingers. “One, you never walk home with me and Suna anymore. Two, there’s some flowery shit that appeared in our shower, and I know I didn’t buy it, and you’re not walkin’ around smelling like lavender and honey, so you’ve gotta be sneakin’ someone in. Three, you came to practice two weeks ago with an actual hickey, y’know, when you kept missing sets ‘cause you were in such a good mood.”

Atsumu blinks at him, finally lost for words.

“And,” Osamu says, tone somewhat gentler. “You seem a lot happier lately. Less, y’know, hard on yourself. Whoever it is, I think she’s good for you.”

“Thanks,” Atsumu says, swallowing roughly. “You’re so sappy.”

“Says the guy holding the flowers.” And trying not to let his eyes water over, but Osamu doesn’t say that bit. He can spare some of his brother’s dignity.

“It’s our six-month anniversary,” Atsumu says quietly. “Please don’t tell Ma yet, okay? She’s always on about volleyball bein’ enough of a distraction from school, I know she thinks dating is too. I just wanna—I want her to like my—”

He says your name just as the doorbell rings.

“Her? You’re dating—?” Osamu’s tone is incredulous. “Hold on, you can’t go yet. She’s like a million times out of your league—”

“I know!” Atsumu beams at him. “Keep your mouth shut or you’ll regret it. Tell Ma I’m sleeping at the dorms with Suna. Bye!”

[tremendously-crazy]

Ranting about ACD Johnlock because these Victorian husbands need to be happy for me

What the hell happened between Holmes and Watson in 1902 and 1903?

Context: 3GAR is described as happening in July 1902, and ILLU happened in 1902. CREE and BLAN happened in 1903.

In 1902, Holmes and Watson were inseparable.

I don't even need to elaborate when I mention 3GAR. "It was worth a wound" should be enough to remind you of why. I was so touched when I read Holmes seeing his Watson injured and rushing to his side. He is terrified at the thought of losing his friend. It was amazing to read this seemingly cold, distant, and unemotional man threatening to murder the man who almost killed his best friend. There was loyalty, there was love, and it was beautiful.

According to ILLU, in 1902, they're also frequenting Turkish baths together. (which, I might add, was a common place for homosexual men to gather, do with that knowledge what you may) They're lying side by side on two couches with nothing but a blanket on either of them as they dry off. Watson hears Holmes is injured and nearly passes out, and he rushes to Baker Street to see him as soon as possible. He is terrified at the thought of losing his friend. He gingerly sits at his bedside to ensure that Holmes is okay. These are all very intimate things to do between friends. Indeed, this even suggests the possibility of the two being lovers.

IMAGINE that. These two are inseparable. Clearly, these two stories help to build on the idea that they love each other (platonically or romantically. To me, they seem romantically involved, but even as friends, they do love each other. It's all up to personal preference.) Their relationship is so strong, more than anything we have seen before. These stories showcase their love for each other and how passionate they are for each other.

Now, flash forward to 1903, when CREE and BLAN take place, and we are given an entirely different narrative. Watson describes himself as one of Holmes's "habits" in CREE, saying he felt as though he was an accessory to Holmes. Their relationship is "peculiar," and he is only called over to Baker Street as some kind of tool Holmes can talk to or use on a case. Holmes can rely on Watson, and he is, in a way, taking advantage of his reliability. Throughout the entire story, we can feel the tension between these two (remember how Watson had to stress over his practice in order to join Holmes on the case, and Holmes seemingly did not care at all). It seems partially resolved by the end, but there is still a feeling of bitterness that was fully apparent to me while I was reading it. It seemed like their interactions were angsty and passive-aggressive.

In BLAN, Watson does not even live with Holmes anymore, around a year after 3GAR and ILLU. Holmes explains he has "deserted" him for a wife, which he described as "the most selfish action I can recall in our years of association." Holmes was alone. In the story, Holmes cannot stop talking about how much he misses "his" Watson.

These four stories have such a sharp contrast. They have been absolutely terrorizing my brain a lot as of late. I feel like them being so close in ILLU, and *the* moment in 3GAR are some of their strongest moments together. They are both so terrified to lose each other. How is it that a year later, according to the canon, they are barely on speaking terms? My question is, if we are to trust the canon dates, what happened during those months that caused them to drift apart so terribly? How could Watson leave his Holmes for a wife so recently after these frightening events?

Another point about this supposed second wife. I don't think she even existed. (I do think Mary was really Watson's wife, and I might've reblogged a post about it somewhere) But about the second wife. As far as I'm aware, she's mentioned one (1) time in one (1) story by Holmes, and it was likely just a ploy by ACD to separate them (oh well, I'll just give him a wife. That'll separate them good enough.) It's easily enough ignored for that reason. Watson was, in fact, away from Baker Stret, but the idea of a wife was, in all probability, just made up by Holmes as an excuse for his absence.

I'd like to add my personal headcanon because the continuity in Sherlock Holmes is actually so messed up. John is called James in one story (TWIS, if you want to see for yourself.) October 9, 1890, is called a Saturday when it was really a Thursday (REDH) There's a story set in 1892, when Holmes was supposedly dead... etc, etc. Given the known unreliability of dates in these stories, would it be so unreasonable to suggest that the dates of the four I have talked about were swapped? That, in fact, CREE and BLAN were a falling out in their relationship and that ILLU and 3GAR was their healing? That the former were set in 1902 and the latter, in 1903? I can understand that after knowing someone and living with them for so many years, you may start to take them for granted. But after you narrowly lose them, you would not do such a thing again. (Especially not only a year after such a traumatic experience!!) Therefore, I believe CREE and BLAN were examples of how their relationship was beginning to fail and were actually set in 1902 (or some other date in the latter days of their relationship), and ILLU and 3GAR were reminders of how much they meant to each other, and they happened in 1903 (or, more simply, a year after CREE and BLAN).

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk. I know this is completely incorrigible and nobody's gonna read it but I just wanted to get it out there.

TL;DR: Late Sherlock Holmes canon sucks. No way that they had both near death experiences in 3GAR and ILLU, and less than a year latery they can barely stand each other in CREE and BLAN. My personal headcanon says CREE and BLAN were moments of stress in their relationship and that 3GAR and ILLU happened afterward to remind them of how much they appreciated each other and help reconcile them.

[barbwritesstuff]

i would like to think that hani manages to convince the pack to let her get a journalism degree in a university near pack lands, wherever that ends up being

She becomes a Sherlock Holmes esque figures because her wolf senses let her pick up clues otherwise people would ignore

"...and so you can see, I have no involvement whatsoever in the missing money. This is all a big misunderst—"

"Why are you sweating?"

"What? I'm not swea—"

"You are. I can smell it. Also, you're kinda stiff. Too stiff. Like a rabbit, gone all still, not sure if it should run for the burrow or not."

"I assure you, I'm not—"

"Ever chased a rabbit, Mr Mayor? I have. I'm good at chasing rabbits."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Why?" A flicker of gold in her eye. "Are you feeling threatened? No need for that. I'm just writing a blog. That's all."

[bulkyphrase]

Avengers in Space - a fic rec list

I love the Avengers and I love outer space, and these are a few of my favorite stories that combine the two.

What do you mean we left Clint on Mars? by sara_holmes (@captn-sara-holmes) (WinterHawk, Teen And Up Audiences, 24,537 words)

Summary: “What do you mean we left Clint on Mars?” Cap’s incredulous voice cuts through the stunned silence of the cockpit, loud and shocked. He’s standing there with his cowl in hand, gaping at the holo-screen at the front of the jet. Next to him, Tony is standing with his hands on his head, mouth hanging open in a similar fashion. Over on the other side of the cockpit is Jane, who has both palms clapped across her mouth like she’s trying to hold back hysterical giggles. For his part, Bucky is just staring at the screen like he can’t quite believe what’s going on.

Straight on till Morning by @sineala (Stony, Explicit, 109,848 words)

Summary: Tony Stark resigned his commission in Starfleet five years ago, after a disastrous away mission, and he swore he'd never go back. He just wants to be left alone to build warp engines in peace. But the universe has more in store for him than that, as he discovers when Admiral Fury comes to him with an offer he could never have expected and cannot possibly refuse: first officer and chief engineer aboard the all-new USS Avenger, a starship of Tony's own design. What's more, the Avenger's captain is Steve Rogers, hero of the Earth-Romulan War. Believed dead for over a century, Steve is miraculously alive... and very, very attractive. But nothing is ever easy for Tony. As he wrestles with his secret desire for his new captain and his not-so-dormant fears, another mission starts to go wrong, and Tony becomes aware that Steve has secrets of his own -- and the truth could change everything. Also available as a podfic read by M_Samro (@msamro)

More below the cut!

A Far Better Thing I Do by @brighteyedjill (Gen, Teen And Up Audiences, 5,333 words)

Summary: A mysterious man with no paper trail was involved in a bloody attack on a meeting of Starfleet admirals. James T. Kirk and the crew of the starship Enterprise have tracked him to the Klingon home wold, Kronos, where they have threatened to unleash the experimental torpedoes Admiral Marcus sent with them unless the man surrenders. That man, Steve Rogers, has other ideas.

Into That Good Night by Nonymos (Stucky, Explicit, 73,540 words)

Summary: Steve Rogers has lived for entirely too long—long enough to see the world's end. The heroes are gone, and the Earth is pushing what's left of mankind towards the exit. But when a makeshift team rises from the ashes, when a mysterious presence all but drags Steve there, he begins to think there may be hope yet. As they shoot for the stars one last time, Steve will get proof yet again that the future is nothing if not an echo of the past.

Wandering Stars by @sabrecmc (Stony, Explicit, 24,470 words)

Summary: Alien Steve/Astronaut Tony (oviposition)

Cold Space, Warm Welcome by Annie D (@no-gorms) (Stony, Teen And Up Audiences, 15,572 words)

Summary: Tony’s spent a couple of years flying around the galaxy in his best friend Rhodey’s spaceship the Iron Advance, doing what could perhaps be counted as ‘hero’ work. Among their allies is Steve Rogers, captain of his own crew, with whom Tony has a… potentially friendly relationship. When Steve’s ship is irreparably damaged, Rhodey takes him and his whole crew onto the Iron Advance to recover. Tony’s not at all nervous about this, because so what if this is the first time Steve will see him without the Iron Man armor?

Space Between by NachoDiablo (Samsteve, Teen And Up Audiences, 9,157 words)

Summary: Sam has a quiet life on a newly inhabited planet. He spends his days tending the garden plots and avoiding his past. But right before an impending storm, a fugitive crash lands in his space and upsets his solitude.

The Truth When Captains Meet by Kimra (Gen, Teen And Up Audiences, 2,303 words)

Summary: Steve Rogers wakes up on an alien’s space ship being carried bridal style by Carol Danvers. As far as first meetings go, it’s memorable.

Brisingr by @ironychan (Gen, Teen And Up Audiences, 155,649 words)

Summary: When Jane Foster discovers an object on a course for the inner solar system, it looks like a job for the Avengers. But when what looked like a comet turns out to be a refugee ship from another galaxy, it's not clear whose job this is anymore. Tony Stark and the Vision find they have an uncomfortable amount in common with the creatures called the Brisings, while Jane learns that the aliens are being followed by something they thought they'd left behind five million years ago. Set post-AOU, pre-CW.

Liberate Tutemet Ex Inferis (Save yourself from hell) by Terrenis, with art by @kaiwrites (James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Explicit, 55,989 words)

Summary: In the Year 2060, Stark Aeronautics and Space Administration's prestige project, the “Event Horizon”, was on its maiden voyage with the newly developed Arc Reactor Gravity Drive, only to disappear beyond Neptune’s orbit without a trace. Now, seven years later, a transmission from the eighth planet is received, along with a very disturbing audio record. Tony Stark, who not only wants to redeem his reputation, but also needs to know what happened on the ship, goes on a mission with the enhanced Inhuman ragtag crew of the Singularity to salvage his baby. Little do they know that this is literally going to be a trip to hell… Or that totally unnecessary Event Horizon AU that no one asked for. But I’m going to write it anyway.

Catch a Falling Star by tsukinofaerii (Stony, Explicit, 42,741 words)

Summary: When Tony was sixteen, he got to meet his hero, Captain Steve Rogers, the Empire's not-literally-golden boy from the Continuity Wars. When he was twenty-seven, the aforementioned Captain turned Pirate picked him up at the outer edges of space. It would have been a good time to appreciate the abundant nudity that came from spending too much time with space colonists, but Tony had bigger worries than even Rogers' amazing hip-to-shoulder ratio. Something was sending the star-encircling computers that power the galaxy into a tailspin, and it was going to take a lot more than luck and skill to clean the mess up.

Luminosity by CSHfic, VSfic (Stony, Mature, 60,922 words)

Summary: The Avengers organize a two month mission to investigate an anomaly in space that appears to be engulfing planets, Steve is worried about leaving Tony alone, and Hawkeye is just worried about being left behind. But then something goes wrong. Steve drags himself out of the wreckage of their ship, on a planet that shouldn’t exist, the Avengers are missing, Iron Man is torn to scraps, and Tony has a lot of explaining to do. Or, in which Steve has no clue that Tony is Iron Man, and it takes crash-landing on an alien planet for him to find out.

Gravitational Pull by @antigrav-vector (Stony, Explicit, 29,718 words)

Summary: A strange temple floating in space is discovered, and Steve and Tony are the logical choices to go investigate. What they find is going to make or break their relationship...

Inquiries into Orbital Dynamics (The Mission Controllers' Remix) by Muccamukk (Stony, Teen And Up Audiences, 5,591 words)

Summary: When a mysterious object appears in orbit around the Moon, NASA teams up with the Avengers to investigate it. This is NASA's story. Inspired by Gravitational Pull

everybody needs a reason why they run by napricot (Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Explicit, 77,888 words)

Summary: Pepper doesn’t often regret the improbable circumstances and choices that brought her, Tony, and Jim to the SGC and then to Atlantis. After all, being an intergalactic explorer is way cooler than being the right hand woman of Stark Industries’ heir Tony Stark. But when strangers show up during her Gate team’s milk run of a trading mission, she’s got a bad feeling she knows better than to ignore. Which is how Pepper’s Gate team ends up picking up a stray in the form of a metal-armed runner with a mysterious past and learning about a dangerous new sect of Wraith worshippers called Hydrans. But the Atlanteans aren’t the only ones interested in the Hydrans: there are stories spreading throughout the Pegasus Galaxy about the Nomad and the Widows, three maybe-heroes who have set their sights on the Hydrans and the Wraith. Meanwhile, Tony’s trying to figure out if there’s something more to Atlantis’s helpful new hospitality-oriented subroutines, and Master Sergeant Sam Wilson is trying to have just one offworld mission where shit doesn’t get weird.

a war could be our only hope by @aceofwands (Stony, Explicit, 62,817 words)

Summary: Steve emerges in the future, where the Federation is fighting a war against the totalitarian Dominion. Traumatised from his experience with the Borg, Tony already has enough trouble coping without Steve's return bringing up unexpected feelings.

[daisyblog]

Once In A Lifetime

My Drummer Masterlist Summary: YN is given a one time opportunity to join the Jonas Brothers on tour as their drummer, and Harry supports her.

Warning: emotional abuse (YN’s family are not kind to her).

With Harry being back on tour, YN really felt herself slip back into reality. The reality of still being in Holmes Chapel, watching her best friend become Harry Styles and not just her Harry. But watching him up on stage with the other boys, made her feel prouder than she had ever felt before. 

YN was on her way home from college, her earphones sat in her ears blaring ‘Dreams’ as her feet walked slowly towards her house. Fleetwood Mac was one of her and Harry’s favourite’s band, so listening to their songs brought her a sense of comfort and closeness, despite him being over the other side of the world. 

At the sight of YN’s family house, she stopped in her tracks from across the road. YN noticed both her parent’s cars in the driveway, meaning they were home earlier than usual. Interrupting her thoughts, the front door opened and out walked her older brother, their Mum following him. YN moved out of sight behind a parked large green van not wanting them to see her.  

“Bye Lucas, I love you my baby!”. YN rolled her eyes at her Mum’s voice from where she was ducking behind the van. “Please be careful!”.

“I will Mum, love you.”. Lucas could be heard shorting back before he got into his new car. 

“Oh Lucas?”. YN heard her Mum once again. “If you see your sister, tell her to get her arse home!”. YN couldn’t help but let out a pathetic laugh at how her Mum’s attitude completely changed when it came to her. 

“What‘s the witch done this time?”. YN’s fist clenched as the anger bubbled inside her. 

“Failing her classes again.”. She could only guess that her Mum stood there with a disappointed look with her hands on her hips. “She’ll never amount to anything that girl!”. 

Tears threatened to spill, but the last thing YN wanted to do was show them that they were hurting her. She was determined to prove them wrong. Sure she was failing but she was being forced to do a class she said she didn’t want to do. What did they expect?

Wanting to prolong her time before having to go back home, she turned to walk in the opposite direction, her feet picking up speed as she longed to get to her favourite place. Not giving it a second thought, YN opened the front door, warmth hitting her along with the smell of lasagna. 

“YN? Is that you my darling?”. Anne shouted as YN closed the front door behind her, taking her shoes off by the stairs and hanging her coat up. Her usual routine!

“Yeh, it’s just me Anne!”. YN answered as she walked further into the house. Noticing that Anne had added a few more photo of Harry and the other boys. 

“I’m cooking some dinner, do you want to stay and have dinner with us?”. Anne wildly smiled as YN sat at the kitchen table, joining her in the kitchen. 

“My favourite! Yes please!”. YN had been having Anne’s dinners since she could remember and they were always the best, made from scratch and just absolutely delicious. 

“It’ll be ready in about an hour my love.”. Anne looked up at the clock that hung on the wall as she closed the oven door. “How was college my darling?”. 

“Awful!”. YN played with her fingers as Anne sat opposite her at the table. “I’m failing another class now.”. 

Anne looked at the young girl in front of her. The one she had known since she was a little three year old with plaits in her hair, the one who followed Harry around the school yard and as they got older so Harry and YN’s friendship blossomed. They would spend majority of their teenage years at her house, either singing and playing the drums in the garage or watching episodes of Friends on repeat, tucked up under a blanket in the living room. 

Anne reached over the wooden table, to hold YN’s hand in hers. “It’s not that you’re failing sweetheart…you’re not doing something you enjoy.”.

“Try explaining that one to Julie and Steven.”. YN sounded defeated, like she was close to giving up. “Is it okay if I go in the garage for a bit?”. 

“Of course love…that’s what we bought them for.”. Anne smiled at YN, knowing the garage was somewhere where her and Harry spent a lot of time. 

YN closed the door that stood between the house and garage, not wanting to disturb Anne and Robin. YN looked at the black drum kit that sat in the middle of the room. Posters of all her and Harry’s favourite artists scattered over the walls. A photo of them both sat on the shelf, they both smiled wildly at the camera as Harry had his arm wrapped around her shoulder. 

As she sat on the stool behind the drums, the wooden sticks in her hands, YN felt like she had something to prove. She got up and positioned her phone so it could record her and moved Harry’s microphone to angle where should could sing as she played. 

The backing track began to play, YN began to tap the drums with her stick, completely getting lost in the moment already. 

Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise

Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies

And if you don't love me now 

You will never love me again

I can still hear you saying

You would never break the chain 

And if you don't love me now 

You will never love me again

I can still hear you saying 

You would never break the chain 

YN’s soft but strong voice belted out the song as her hands and arms moved to hit the drums with the beat. Finishing the song, YN watched the video back on her phone. For once, she was proud of herself. So taking the leap, she posted it onto her Instagram, captioning it ‘Drumming is my heartbeat.’ for all of her 238 followers. 

The rest of YN’s evening was spent eating dinner with Anne and Robin. They spoke about how well Gemma was doing at university, how One Direction was getting bigger and bigger by the day and how much they missed Harry. They even told YN how proud they were of her for pushing herself everyday to do what she was doing, even though she disliked it. 

YN pushed herself through the anxiety of going back to her house. She tip toed through the front door, hoping her parents wouldn’t realise she was home. As she put one foot on the stairs, her name was called. 

“Come in here now!”. Her Mum’s voice demanded from the living room. YN reluctantly walked into the room and stood close to the door. “Where have you been?”. 

“I’ve been over Anne and Robin’s, I had dinner with them.”. YN explained, as she lifted her bag up higher on her shoulder. 

“You spend way too much time over there!”. Her Dad made a comment, as he slouched in the armchair, not taking his away from the tv screen. 

“It’s probably one of the reasons she’s failing her classes Steven.”. Julie shook her head, her eyes piercing into YN’s. “Have you got anything to say for yourself?”. 

YN didn’t usually answer back, she just stood and took whatever was said about her. But tonight she changed. “I don’t want to be an accountant, I don’t want to follow in your footsteps, I’m not you or Dad…I want to just be me.”:

Steven rolled her eyes and Julie let out a sarcastic laugh. YN’s stopped dropped at their reactions. All she wanted was to be enough. 

“Where has that gotten you so far?.” Her Mum’s comment cut deep. “Hmm? You’re not going to get far YN, you’re just a girl who thinks she can play the drums all day every day…it’s pathetic!”. 

YN went to respond but her father interrupted. “I’ve had enough of your attitude and behaviour…just go to your room.”.

As YN got to her bedroom door, thinking she had escaped the toxic behaviour of her family for the day, Lucas appeared. 

“Oi! Delete that video…I’ve had people messaging me saying how good you are and it’s embarrassing!”. Her brother stuck his head out from his bedroom door. “It’s bad enough we’ve got to listen to your little boyfriend, and his silly band on the radio everyday without thinking you can sing too!”. 

YN slammed the door shut, locking it behind her. Her way of shutting out the world. It was nights like tonight that YN would escape over to Harry’s house, and he would reassure her that her family were to blame. But with Harry over the other side of the world, she felt lost. 

She got into bed that night and scrolled through her Twitter to see what Harry and the band had been up to from the fans. Lost in the moment of scrolling, her phone pinged and her favourite name appeared. 

Harry 💙: I miss you my little drummer! I saw your video, one of our favourites. You’re amazing! I miss our days of singing and drumming in the garage. The other boys are so impressed with you too. Keep banging those drums. Love you xx

---

It was a few weeks later and YN had continued to post video covers of herself singing and playing the drums. It felt like therapy to her, her escape from reality. The views and positive comments she was getting, really encouraged her. It boosted her confidence and made her feel worthy for once. Lucas still tried to knock her down, he even showed their parents saying that she was embarrassing them as a family. 

Harry continued to send her positive messages, encouraging her to keep doing it and saying how he looked forward to them every day. Even the Niall and Louis had messaged her on Twitter to say how good she was and how jealous they were of her drumming skills. Her and Niall had made a deal that if he taught her to play guitar, she would teach him to play the drums. 

YN had just left college for the day, like usually her earphones were placed into her ears as she walked. The sound of an email went off and a notification appeared on her screen. Opening it up, curious to see what it was, YN couldn’t believe what she was reading. 

Good Afternoon, YN

I hope this email finds you well. 

I’m Johnny Wright and I am a Talent Manager at Hollywood Records, and currently managing the Jonas Brother’s. They have a tour starting in October this year and we are recruiting a drummer. 

We have seen your talent via videos from your social media, and are interested in arranging a meeting with yourself to discuss you becoming apart of the tour. 

We can see that you are currently residing near Manchester in the UK. If you decide you would like to proceed with the meeting, I can arrange for us to meet in London. All accommodation, travel and expenses for yourself and one other person will be paid for. 

I hope to hear from you soon.

Best wishes

Johnny 

Talent Manager

YN stopped in her tracks, re-reading the email over and over. “This has to be a joke!”. She whispered to herself. She needed to tell Harry, but just as she was about the click on his contact to phone him, she stopped herself realising it was the middle of the night for him. 

She held a bit of hope that her parents would be thrilled and support her through this incredible opportunity. For the first time, YN ran home as fast as her legging covered legs would take her. She pushed through the front door with force. 

“Mum? Dad?”. She called through the quiet house. 

“Oh stop shouting YN, we’re only in here.”. Julie demanded, from where she stood in the plain beige kitchen. 

“Look at this!”: YN pushed her phone, displaying the email, into her Mum’s hands. “Isn’t this amazing?”. A proud grin shined brightly on her lips. 

Julie read through the email quickly, before handing the phone back to YN and continued to cook. YN looked at her Mum, waiting for her response, but nothing came. 

“Mum?”. She encouraged, praying this was the moment she needed to prove to her family that she was capable and that she could make them proud. 

“You’re not going.”. Julie said flatly as she stirred the food in the saucepan. “They’re trying to humiliate you, not to dishearten you but you can’t sing and you’re not that good on the drums either.”. 

“We’ll see about that!”. YN answered back, determined to prove her own mother wrong. 

YN made her way over to one place she knew she’d have the best reaction, Anne’s house. walking through the door, she could see a suitcase sitting in the hallway. She thought Gemma may have been home from university. But walking around the corner, for the second time that day she couldn’t believe her eyes. 

“Harry?”. YN ran straight into his arms, holding him tight. “Oh I’ve missed you!”: 

Harry’s arms held her tight, leaving no space between their bodies. “Not as much as I’ve missed you.”. 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home.”. YN questioned him as they broke apart. 

Harry shrugged his shoulders as he looked between his Mum and YN. “Wanted to surprise two of my favourite women!”. He cheekily chuckled. 

“Well you’ve got good timing because I’ve got something to show you.”. 

YN showed Harry and Anne the email from Johnny. They were so incredibly proud and supportive of her. They encouraged her not to listen to her Mum and this was a one time opportunity and she needed to do it for herself. 

---

A week later, YN found herself in Harry and Louis’ flat in London, where she was staying for the weekend and for her meeting for the Jonas Brother’s tour. YN was nervous, excited too but scared that she was going to mess up. 

Before she headed off to where the meeting was being held, Harry and Louis both gave her a positive talk. 

“You’re going to do great and one thing you need to do is believe in yourself.”. Harry started the positivity talk. 

“Harold’s right YN…you’re incredible and you don’t give yourself enough credit…go in there and smash those drums.”. YN smiled at how lucky she was that Harry brought four amazing boys into her life. 

“I’ve always said you’re the only girl who I’d want to bang my drums.”. Harry sent YN a wink at his attempt to be a little cheeky. 

“Harry!”. YN playfully pushed his arm. 

YN was gone for around three hours and Harry and Louis couldn’t help but pace their flat. Trying to keep themselves distracted but it was no help because time only seemed to slow down. They were sat watching a football game on the tv when they heard a knock at their door. They both ran in a race to opened the door first, Harry winning and there waiting to be let in was YN.

“I’m going on tour!”. YN shouted excitedly to the both of them. Harry scooped her up into his arms and hugged her tight. He was proud beyond words. 

[alexendria-rose]

Bluey~

Dad Sherlock X Reader.

Warnings- Pure fluff

A/n- I’ve thought about this at work. It’s just a real short one 🤎

Sherlock crinkles his eyebrows as he hears a sort of sound in the front room. He was just waking up for the day, well he was not intending to wake up for a little while longer but whatever that annoying sound was woke him up. He looked to his side to see that his wife wasn’t there, maybe that was also another reason he woke up. He groans stretching before sitting on the edge of the bed and standing up. He walks over to the door grabbing his blue robe that hung up on the door, putting it on and exiting the bedroom. He saw little William sitting on his mother’s lap on the floor as he stared up at the TV. Y/n giggled softly as William clapped his hands.

“Mom! Dad! Bingo! Bluey!” William shouted in his cute little voice and giggled. Y/n looked over towards the kitchen to see a very tired Sherlock Holmes.

“Oh hello my love! I’ve made some tea for you it’s on the counter.” She says with a very bright smile on her lips that made Sherlock in a much better mood than he was previously in.

“Thank you.” He smiles softly grabbing the cup of tea walking over to his chair sitting on it before taking a small sit. William looks up at his father his big blue eyes peering into his father’s own blue bright eyes.

“Daddy!” He exclaims standing up from his mother’s lap running over to Sherlock crawling on his lap. Sherlock laughs lightly placing his tea down on the table next to him before holding onto his son tightly.

“Hello son. What is mother torturing you with today?” Sherlock grins, Y/n glares daggers at Sherlock mouthing a quick ‘fuck you’ before William turns his head towards his mom.

“Momma not torturing me daddy.” William says with bright eyes. “It’s bluey!” Sherlock knits his eyebrows.

“Bluey? That doesn’t sound very educational.” Sherlock mutters but keeping a smile on his face. Sherlock definitely knew his son got his mother’s creative mind but he definitely was Sherlock’s mini him.

“Daddy! It’s good!” William exclaims a slight pout on his little lips. Sherlock rolls his eyes playfully ruffling his son’s dark curls.

“But wouldn’t you rather watch some murder mysteries.” Sherlock whispered so his wife wouldn’t hear. But oh she did. Y/n whips her head towards Sherlock standing up from the ground.

“I swear on everything Sherlock Holmes if you let our son watch that. You’ll become one of those murder mysteries.” She threatens, Sherlock smirks at her threat giving her a lovey smile.

“I love when you threaten me like that my dear.” He teases. Y/n rolls her eyes pulling out her phone seeing a text from Mary asking y/n to tag along with her for morning tea at the bakery. Sherlock looks at his wife seeing a small smile on her face.

“My love do you think I can go out for an hour, I haven’t seen dear Mary in a while.” Y/n asks a huge grin on her face excited to see her best friend.

“My love I hate that you have to ask, obviously you can go. William and I will do something fun-“

“We’re going to watch bluey all day momma!” William says interrupting his father. Y/n laughed at her son knowing she was a copy and paste of his father. Sherlock’s eyes widen at that comment shaking his head towards his wife as a save me sort of look. Y/n laughs grabbing her coat and slipping it on.

“I think that’s a fantastic idea my love! Now I’ll see you boys later.” Y/n says blowing a kiss towards her two favorite boys, William blowing a kiss back and Sherlock glaring at his wife knowing she was dashing out the door to torture Sherlock with this nonsense show. William laid his head on his father’s shoulder as his eyes continue to watch the show. Sherlock sighed leaning his head on top of William’s as they watch the show together.

Later when Y/n got back an hour later she walked through the flat door seeing a very puzzled and intrigued Sherlock and a very sleepy William. Y/n smiled softly as Sherlock’s eyes were glued on the TV.

“Y/n she can’t have kids! This isn’t for children, this show is too intelligent.” Sherlock’s whispers sadly not noticing his son has fallen asleep. “Right William?” Sherlock looks down seeing William dead asleep. Y/n chuckles walking towards the boy’s.

“I thought this was dumb?” Y/n snickers taking off her coat throwing it to the side. Sherlock’s face falls and a slight embarrassed look crawls up to his face.

“It is.” He mumbles his eyes never leaving the television. Y/n just hums grabbing small William from Sherlock’s embrace waking William up slightly.

“Mommy, daddy loves bluey now.” Williams smiles tiredly before going back to sleep. Y/n just smiles at her sleepy son taking him to his room and setting him down on his bed so he could take his afternoon nap. She kisses the top of his head gently just enjoying the second of watching her son fast asleep not noticing a happy Sherlock watching the interaction.

“Did I ever tell you that you’re an amazing mother.” Sherlock whispers quietly. “Kind of like the mom in bluey, no wonder why he loves it.” Y/n looks towards her husband a small blush on her cheeks watching as Sherlock makes his way towards her sitting next to her on the floor beside their son’s bed.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll mess up at this mom thing.” She sighs sadly placing her chin on the palm of her hand as she continued to look at Williams sleepy figure. Sherlock shakes his head playing with the end of her hair.

“You’re doing a good job.” Sherlock smiles softly. Y/n looks at him tilting her head a grin plastered on her face.

“Did you just quote bluey to me?” She asks watching him start to laugh quietly.

“Yes and that show definitely got that right.” He says grabbing his wife and holding her close to his chest. “You take care of us everyday and you’re doing a damn good job at this mom and wife thing.” Y/n sighs happily a grin on her face. Maybe Sherlock should watch bluey more often…