#all while kissing the hot detective inspector on the case

[emmashouldbewriting]

a little fruit fly keeps trying to swim in my wine and SIR PLEASE, i am writing a synopsis for my agent, i do not need you making this more hellish than it already is

[lovelytsunoda]

indecent exposure // liam lawson

summary: some men should not be allowed to buy gag shirts when they go to vegas. liam lawson is not one of them. or, the liam face-sitting fic i've been ruminating on for months and never wrote.

pairing: liam lawson x female! reader

warnings: 18+!!! SMUT!!! porn with very minimal plot if i do say so myself. lots of double entendres for common police charges (disorderly conduct, indecent exposure etc.), liam refers to himself as 'agent lawson' and makes us all cringe with laughter. the actual face-sitting portion of the fic is really only a few paragraphs at the end lmao the foreplay was too fun with all the cop jokes-

author's note: somebody should take both my library card and every british detective show in existence away from me because this is what happens when i watch too many episodes of anything with a hot detective in it. never mind the fact that i binged lauren layne's new yorks finest series last year when i was snowed in and my classes were cancelled for almost a week

there was nothing that y/n loved more than coming home from a long day at work and taking her dress pants off. and her high heels, and her bra. typically this would be followed by a pint of ben and jerrys and a few episodes of 'grace and frankie'. sometimes it would be followed by a feel good eighties movie, or by her boyfriend ordering takeout and ravishing her while they waited for it to arrive.

all of these were good options, as far as y/n was concerned.

"hey babe!" liam shouted, darting across the hall from the small gym space they'd set up, to the master bedroom. "look what i found in the closet...jesus. you look gorgeous." he stopped in his tracks, eyes fixed on his goddess of a girlfriend as she stood in front of the gilded mirror next to the walk-in closet.

"you saw be before i left for work." she laughed, taking out the small diamond studs in her ears. they were a gift from liam for their anniversary. "all i've done is take off my slacks and bra, and undo my shirt a little bit."

but it wasn't the lack of pants that was getting liam all flustered, nor was it the way the collar of her silk work shirt dipped down just a little too far, the hem not quite long enough to cover the area where thigh met ass.

no, it was the black prada glasses that delicately framed her eyes. the eyes that had so captivated liam from the moment they met.

"if you ever decide to get contacts, i'm leaving you. seriously."

he wasn't serious in the slightest.

"the way you look in those glasses should be a crime. you're gorgeous, babe."

facing him, she laughed, hands on her hips. "i thought you threw that shirt out!"

she groaned internally, looking at the tight-fitting black cotton shirt that liam was wearing, and the cracking white vinyl lettering over his heart. fbi. a gag gift he had bought in vegas. it was too tight despite it's age, hugging each and every one of liam's muscles far too tight, and looking deceptively erotic when paired with his dark blue jeans.

"so did i! isn't it great?" he grinned like an idiot, spinning in a little circle to show off the writing on the back.

female body inspector.

who the fuck came up with these things? on any random guy in the street, she would have gagged at the vulgar implications of the words. on her boyfriend? she only rolled her eyes.

"there's a reason it went missing in the move, babe."

liam shook his head, ignoring her words. "ma'am, i'm special agent lawson from the federal bureau of investigations. i've received a complaint about disorderly conduct on the premises. and now that i'm here i might have to upgrade that charge to indecent exposure, little lady."

"you're such a fucking idiot." she giggled, looping her arms around her boyfriend's neck before kissing him softly. "i love you."

"love you more." he rasped in between kisses, his hands travelling underneath the hem of her shirt. "what do you say the two of us make a case for disturbing the peace?"

"if you make one more cop-related come on, i'm walking out that front door and never coming back."

liam flashed a shit-eating grin, raking his bleached blonde hair out of his face. "so does that mean you won't consent to a frisk search?"

"i will humor you this one time." she laughed, taking a step back. "take it away, agent. but you do realize that the fbi don't get to make disorderly conduct calls? that's a beat cop's job."

"i seem to recall that you have a right to remain silent?"

she winked, undoing another button on her shirt, the fabric falling away just enough to give liam a glimpse of the soft flesh of her breasts. "and i don't recall being read my rights."

"hands against the wall, feet shoulder width apart, you beautiful smartass." liam laughed, waiting for her to turn slightly before playfully swatting at her backside. "then i can read them to you."

the wall was cold against her palms as she got into position, listening half-heartedly as liam attempted to remember the american miranda rights. he got about as far as 'you have the right to remain silent' and 'you have the right to an attorney' before he gave up.

"you know what, this isn't that serious. fuck the right to remain silent, you have the right to remain sexy as fuck. how about that." she could hear the playful annoyance in his voice, and couldn't help the smile that broke out across her face.

there was the liam she knew and loved. not one to mince words, even in the bedroom.

his smooth hands were a welcome presence on her body, travelling up her legs, over her hips and up the sides of her torso. torturously slow, his warm hands dipped underneath her shirt, taking her breasts in his hands, her peaked nipples between his fingers.

heat rose to her skin, adding a rosy sheen in the halflight. she sighed under his touch, her head dropping back to rest on liam's shoulder. liam smiled fondly, one of his hands reaching for hers, the other dropping to cradle her waist.

"you're beautiful." he hummed, kissing her neck gently. "i hope you know that."

this was a side of liam that only she ever got to see. on the outside, he gave off frat boy energy: the hair, the way he carried himself. the way he spoke. but just under the surface, was a man who was wrapped around his girlfriend's finger. one who loved shamelessly, and with his whole heart.

pulling away from the wall, the turned in his hold to face him, tangling her hands in his hair and kissing him deeply.

"if you can get that shirt off without tearing a stitch, you can keep it."

liam beamed, breaking from the embrace to scramble for the hem of the worn t-shirt. he had almost gotten it over his head when he heard the first few stitches begin to pop, fabric getting stuck by his shoulders.

"fuck!"

"need some help with that?"

"i think i'm good!"

somehow they ended up on the bed, both half dressed and pent up. she was soaked through her thong, despite her earlier attitude towards the t-shirt and further proving the point that her lover looked good in just about anything (or nothing, for that matter). she was needy, every nerve in her body reacting to the way liam's tongue probed her mouth, the way his hands touched her body. the way he moaned when she pressed up against the bulge in his jeans.

"babe," he mumbled in between kisses. "do you trust me?"

she cocked an eyebrow, brushing his bangs out of his face before looking down at him "should i be worried?"

"do you trust me, yes or no?"

"of course, li. of course i trust you."

liam nodded. "good. so sit on my face."

she paused, almost as if her brain was sending up error messages. she knew this day would come. liam lawson would eat pussy any which way. truthfully, she was shocked this day hadn’t come sooner.

it wasn’t that she didn’t want to. of course she wanted to.

“babe, how will you be able to breathe? I’ll suffocate you.” she protested, reaching for his hand. “I don’t want that on my conscience.”

“sweetheart, it’s okay. you won’t hurt me. and if-god forbid-I do suffocate, trust me on this, I wouldn’t want to go out any other way than with your thighs on either side of my head.”

and with that, liam took her hands in his, and guided her towards where he needed her most. she looked down at him with a soft smile, running her fingers through his hair.

"i love you." she whispered, moving her hands to the headboard and beginning to lower herself down to meet her lovers tongue.

she inhaled sharply as she made contact, liam's plump lips mouthing at her pussy, her grip tightening on the wooden headboard.

"i've got you, princess." liam's voice was muffled, but his words were reassuring as he ran a hand up and down her thigh. "just ride my face, darlin'. use my tongue to get yourself off."

feeling bolder than she was when she first sat down, she began to grind on liam's face, his nose bumping against her swollen clit with each movement. every bit of friction, every swipe of liam's tongue drove her wild, was like setting fire to her nerve endings.

"oh sweet jesus, god." she whined, fighting the urge to close her thighs together around liam's head, focussing on the way his hands gripped her thighs in a bruising way. she looked down at his face and moaned again, seeing the pleasure mapped out on her boyfriend's features.

"oh, i'm in heaven." he moaned, pulling her down further to plunge his tongue inside of her, rapidly flicking it inside and out.

her eyes rolled back as her hips bucked, grinding against the tip of his nose as one hand came down to clutch at his hair. tears of pleasure pricked the corners of her eyes as she cried out his name.

"liam- right there, oh my god, keep doing that." she whined, trying to move her hips faster. liam's face was soaked, the entire bottom half coated in her juices. there was so much of it, running down the sides of his cheeks and soaking into the pillowcase behind him.

she felt so good she could barely see, screwing her eyes shut. her pants and whines became closer together and more high pitched, the movement of her hips more frantic as she chased that feeling, that high.

"are you going to cum for me, baby?" liam asked, pulling his face away from her. she continued to drip onto his face, and he opened his mouth wide, catching some of her slick on his tongue. "come on my face. please, i want to be drowning in it."

and how could she say no to that?

she could barely keep her shoulders straight as she resumed her motions, fingers gripping liam's hair to keep herself steady. his hands grasped desperately at the flesh of her ass cheeks, squeezing and massaging as one of her own hands came up to grasp at one of her tits, teasing the peaked nipple between her fingers.

"oh god, liam, i think i'm coming!"

"i've got you, i've got you. just breathe-"

his last word was cut off with a moan as she began to gush, coating his face in her release. his moans were muffled by the weight of her body, but they were no less loud as he set about licking her clean.

her legs felt like jello and her body like mush as liam tried to sit up, easing her body back so that she was sitting in his lap, wet core right over top of the massive bulge in his jeans. liam was certain that if she moved at all while she was on top of him, he'd come in his jeans. totally spent, she slumped against him, resting her head on his chest.

he leaned down to kiss her sweaty forehead and she scrunched up her face. she looked adorable in her fogged-up glasses with her messy hair. and liam couldn't stop his heart from melting as she reached for the box of tissues in the nightstand and began to clean up his face.

"that was incredible." her voice was soft as she cleaned him up. "i had no idea you could do that."

"don't give me all the credit." liam laughed, playfully nipping at her fingers as she moved to wipe his mouth down. "you played a very large part in why i'm still hard right now."

she laughed, a big smile on her face as she looped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him softly. with his large hands holding her in place, they kissed again. sweet, chaste and soft, with no intention of it leading anywhere else.

at least, not this early in the evening.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @libraryofloveletters @cartierre @lorarri @userlando @diorleclerc

[tokyodolldiaries]

"Their insults are just hot air that will make us soar because our easy-going gal group is as light as cotton candy." - Ririko, page 53

RATING: 2/5 ☆ read the full review here ☆

Kechonpa by Chiaki Hijiri is about Charisma gal Ririko and her adventures playing amateur detective in Shibuya. The series was published in three volumes between 2009 and 2012.

The title, Kechonpa, comes from the onomatopoeic Japanese word that describes being beaten until you are black and blue. Ririko's friends call her this because of her frequent usage of hair dye.

Unfortunately, this manga is... not good. 

The writing is weak, and the artwork varies drastically in quality from page to page. Some of the art is great, with detailed linework and individualized characters, but Chiaki often drops the ball. However, knowing what I know about the manga industry, my guess is that this was due to a time or budget crunch (probably both), but it's disappointing regardless. The color portraits before and after each chapter are lovely. The girls look, as Ririko would say, "shiny and fab."

The story reads like a poor man's Nancy Drew. Ririko's innate investigative abilities shone through at times, but for the most part, she wasn't given much to do. It appears that Chiaki enjoyed the idea of having a plucky gyaru detective but was uninterested in or unfamiliar with the mystery genre itself. All of Ririko's "cases" are predictable. Ririko's gyaru-ness only helped her in one case: her extensive social network aided her in locating Akemi. I thought that was fantastic. It was a melding of two seemingly unconnected things: gyaru and detective work. But it's the only time we get stuff like that. 

This manga is like biting into a pastry that's hollow in the middle. There's not much happening below the surface. There was minimal police work, and aside from Ririko's delusional preoccupation with police inspector Hoshino Nii, virtually no romance. I actually don't mind Ririko's obsession. It's childish, but she's nineteen. I hope that in future volumes, it's used as a point of character growth. However, I hated Nii. He was a cardboard cutout of a man, not a helpful police officer or a compelling romantic interest. I wanted less of him in every scene.

It seems ever-apparent that gyaru is used as a visual indicator of Ririko's transformation. When Tamiko bleaches her hair, it unlocks the "real" Ririko, giving her the confidence she needs to speak her mind. This is another aspect of the manga I liked, as this is true for myself and many other gyaru I know. However, this powerful statement is hindered by the fact that Ririko and her gal friends are two-dimensional. While Ririko frequently waxes poetic about her challenging upbringing and engagement to Nii, the other girls are left to fend for scraps. As a result, we don't truly know who they are or why they're friends. 

Tamiko was, by in large, my favorite character in the manga. She wasn't particularly developed either, but I loved what I saw of her. Her warm presence and maturity balanced out the youthful vapidity of Ririko and her friends. She embodied everything good about an older sister gal. I wish the manga had been about her. 

I'll be the first to admit that I chose this manga based on its cover art. It evoked Paradise Kiss and the hand-drawn, grainy charm of 1990s anime, but I was disappointed. I should mention that the cover image shows Ririko holding what appears to be a staff or pool cue. I assumed this meant she'd hit someone with it, but she doesn't. Not even once. For that alone, I believe I am entitled to some form of recompense.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hi, i am looking for a very specific johnlock case fic on ao3 with an au where they are in america and on the oregon trail, possibly traveling to wyoming, or probably just western america!lock in generally. thanks! :)

Hey Nonny!

Ahh, I don’t know which fic this is, but I have a few American AUs in my MFL list, maybe one of them is it? If anyone knows which one it is for sure, let us know!!

AMERICAN AUs (TO READ)

Gone and Changed by cwb (E, 4,617 w., 1 Ch. || Farm/Ranch American AU || Teenlock, Friends to Lovers, Angst, High School, Summer Vacation, Swimming, Hot Weather, Oral Sex, Car Sex, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Falling in Love, Mutual Pining) – John and Sherlock are best friends, until John goes and changes. Part 1 of the Just Like That series

At All Material Time by dizzylittlesunflowers (T, 7,029 w., 1 Ch. || 1930′s Farm/Ranch AU || One Shot) – When John Watson first met Sherlock Holmes, the dark-haired stranger had told him he'd never make the mistake of falling in love. Set in 1930's Southern America, the mysterious Holmes family move into the deserted house opposite John Watson's farm. Intrigued with the strange newcomers, the young farmer lets his priorities slip. But not without consequence.

How to Sleep with Your Enemy in One Semester by 221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (M, 9,699 w., 6 Ch. || College / Uni Professors AU || Professor John/Sherlock, Enemies to Lovers, Rivalry, Bickering, Office Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Domestics, John’s Beard, Idiots in Love, Humour) – Visiting professors John Watson and Sherlock Holmes are longtime academic rivals — and now unwilling office mates — at a prestigious American university. When their tense arguments give way to an undercurrent of mutual attraction, their war of wits turns into something more personal — until it goes off course. A party, a phone number, and deserted office at night might just bring them back together.

The Rainbow Connection by honeybee_motorcyles (M, 13,161 w., 7 Ch. || Post-TRF, Autistic Sherlock, American Road Trip, Understanding, Communication, PTSD Sherlock, Regression, Aspergers, Angst and Fluff) – A Road Trip is the best cure for Sherlock and John's relationship.

Wild Skies by darkestbliss (E, 13,339+ w., 9/? Ch. || WiP || American Farm/Ranch AU || Age Difference, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Bottom Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Teen Sherlock, Summer Camp, Older John) – Sherlock Holmes, show jumping champion turned druggie, is sent to a small, remote ranch in Wyoming for the summer as part of his rehabilitation process. There, he meets John Watson, a beautiful and good-natured ranch hand who was raised by the West.

The Reawakening of John Watson by 221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (E, 20,463 w., 14 Ch. || Historical 1800s American/Victorian AU || Artist Sherlock, Writer John, Angst with Happy Ending, Bisexual John, Period Typical Homophobia, Sensuality, Experienced Sherlock, Pining, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Love Confessions, Flirty Sherlock, Frottage, Outdoor Sex, Trust Issues, Minor Character Death, Sexual Tension, Colorado / London, Rimming, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs,  POV John) – Trying to escape his troubled past in England, John Watson has started a new life in the American West. When he meets the handsome artist Sherlock Holmes, a smoldering attraction is sparked, complicating his quiet, carefully guarded existence. Maybe taking a risk with Sherlock is exactly what John needs to feel alive again...

Learning Curve by thpontiacbandit (M, 41,422 w., 22 Ch. || Teacher / Parent AU || America, Fluff and Smut, Parentlock, Frottage) – John is a Kindergarten teacher. One of his students, a boy named Henry Holmes, refuses to speak in school. John is determined to get to the bottom of it, and that is how he meets Sherlock Holmes.

The Bone Fiddle by htebazytook & Vulgarweed (E, 61,167 w., 13 Ch. || American Historical 1970′s AU || Appalachia, West Virginia, Vietnam War, Watergate, Murder Mystery, Case Fic, Drama, Humour, Romance) – In November 1973, Vietnam vet John Watson returns to his family's old home in Arthel County, West Virginia, deep in coal country. His low expectations include recuperation and boredom. Instead he finds a ruined landscape, a series of grisly murders, and one of the world's weirdest neighbors. Part 1 of the The Bone Fiddle series

Next Right: Welcome to Westbound Rest Area 818 by elwinglyre (E, 73,618 w., 16 Ch. || American Unilock AU || Bunk Beds, Anonymous Sex, Homophobia, Closeted John, Roommates, Angst with Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Music, Rape/Non-Con, Hurt John, BAMF John) – Sherlock Holmes dreams of escape from his smothering family and space to breathe. Studying chemistry at the University of Michigan, he's almost far enough away to fill his lungs. Almost. While John Watson dreams of being a doctor, he also dreams of being with another man. John knows that with hard work and study, he can make the first a reality, but he's certain the second can never be. Until a secret encounter in the dark at Rest Area 818 changes everything. When Sherlock meets his new roommate, John Watson, he sees a man in the closet. Sherlock hides from no one. Except from his own family, a detective inspector who wants his evidence returned, and his secret encounter at Rest Area 818. Setting late 1970s, Michigan, USA. POV third person alternates between John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock, P.I. by Callie4180 (E, 83,264 w., 11 Ch. || Magnum P.I. Fusion || Past Relationships, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Canon-Typical Violence, Stalking, Creepy Moriarty) – For the Fall TV Sherlock fusion project. Sherlock, P.I. is an American television show that follows the exciting adventures of genius private investigator Sherlock Homes and his friends as they live their lives on the beautiful island of Oahu in Hawaii. Sherlock solves crimes as he wrestles with the ghosts and demons of his past.

Boyfriend Material by PoppyAlexander (E, 151,282 w., 58 Ch. || American Hockey AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Closeted John, POV John, Pining, Casual Sex / Hook Ups, Rom-Com) – Boston Brawlers' team captain John Watson longs for two things: a championship before he retires, and a boyfriend. Assigned to room with goaltender Sherlock Holmes--known around the league as both a genius and a "weird dude"– on Brawlers' roadtrips, John discovers the things they have in common that lead to an easy friendship and a convenient arrangement.

Nine and a Half Weeks by CumberCurlyGirl and Kameo (E, 175,094+ w., 35/? Ch. || WiP || American AU || Different First Meeting, Daddy Kink, Bottomlock, Anal Plug, Riding Crops, Spanking, Light Bondage, Anal/Oral, Aftercare, Posh John, Virgin Sherlock, Homophobia, Sugar Daddy John, Rimming, Coming in Pants, Light Dom/Sub, Past Sherlock / Victor, Light BDSM, Public Sex, John in a Kilt, Vibrators, Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes is about to graduate from high school in midwestern America. Despite his intelligence, his prospects are bleak due to poverty, an indifferent, alcoholic father and poor choices. One day, at work, he sells a riding crop to a handsome blonde Brit and his life is changed. He doesn't know what hit him - until he does. This is a story of a journey to love and self-acceptance and explores many themes along the way: drug abuse, grief, coming out, age difference, consent. Lots of sex but so much more.

Just Like That Series by cwb (E, 201,462+ w. across 4 works || Series WiP || American Teenager / Farmer AU || Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Angst, High School, Summer Vacation, Swimming, Friends to Lovers, Car Sex, Mutual Pining, Falling in Love, Kissing) – John and Sherlock are best friends, until John goes and changes.

The Devil's Blaze by DulcimerGecko (E, 296,121+ w., 25/? Ch. || WiP || American Cowboy / Rodeo AU || Vet John, Case Fic, Texas, Slow Build, Manipulative Sherlock, Masturbation, Developing Relationship, Dancing Lessons, Drunk Sherlock, Safe Sex, Blow Jobs, Horny John, Cowboy Sherlock, Cowboy John) – Sherlock Holmes, the world’s only Consulting Equestrian Expert, is the individual called when horse owners are out of their depth. At the behest of his elder brother, Sherlock travels to Amarillo, Texas, to investigate why a valuable bucking stallion has seemingly gone berserk for no reason and killed his trainer. The local authorities suspect the owner of fraud and possible animal abuse, but Mycroft sees parallels to an unsolved case from the 1980s wherein a racehorse killed a groom. Complicating the situation is John Watson: bronco rider, rodeo veterinarian and one of case’s primary suspects... Part 1 of the The Devil's Blaze series

[sanababes]

It All Ends Here

Pairings: female kpop idols x fem!reader

Warnings: NEUTRAL (detective au)

-----------

PROFILE

• Name: Park Y/n (female)

• Age: 18

• Height: 5'8

• Bloodtype: A-

===

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock

The sound of the clock almost lulled you to sleep. Exhaustion was finally taking a toll on your whole body due to the continuous murder cases for the past weeks. You and your teammates were sent to different crime scenes to assist the bureau, and especially to ensure the safety of the city of Seoul.

A sound of glass being placed on the table interrupted your eyelids from fully closing. You looked up to see your trusted partner, Major Song Yuqi. She chuckled at your vulnerable state then took a sit across you.

"It's pretty rare to see you that tired, Y/n." She mocked playfully.

You rolled your eyes out of annoyance and clearly, your day won't get any better.

"Yeah right,"

She gestured you to drink the liquid that she mainly prepared to ease your troubled mind. You casted a look of doubt to your mischievous friend before shrugging your shoulders and sipped on the hot tea. A delightful sigh came out from your mouth as the warm liquid rushed down on your throat.

"Damn, that's much better... Thanks, Yuqi." You smiled gently which made the latter feel contented.

"It's nothing, Lead Inspector."

"Oh! Today's finally the day we elect a new mayor! Who are you going to vote for?" She added while pacing around your room excitingly.

"Huh? I don't know yet..." You replied nonchalantly.

"Well I'm going for Kwon Boa, but don't tell chief though or he'd go spare!" You chuckled at your partner's antics.

Seoul is currently celebrating the election between the mayoral candidates – Choi Siwon (red party) and Kwon Boa (blue party). Both are socialites within the government, with Siwon being the current elected mayor and Boa's aspiring will to lead the city better.

Just then, the door of your office burst open. The two of you immediately rise up and greeted the Police Chief of Seoul, Kim Namjoon.

"There you are, Lead Inspector. I've been searching for you, "

"Speaking of the devil..." You heard Yuqi grumbling under her breath.

You stifled a laugh before welcoming the man inside.

"Well know that you found me, what is it that you want to say, Chief?" Your eyes glanced down to the i voted badge on his chest.

"I'm sure that you guys know that today is an important day! Keeping things secure is our top priority for now, that's why I came here. I want you to go check out the red party's offices because Mayor Siwon has expressed strong fears about the safety of his staffs and I don't want to leave anything to chance." He stated, but you're a little unsure with his sudden firm attitude.

"But chief I've been hoping that we'd be having a day off—"

Yuqi's whine was cut off when the chief yelled out.

"You can't seriously have hoped to be off duty on such a day, Major Song?! Now go and report to me as soon as your team is done patrolling!"

Eventually, you went to the lounge area of the officers with Yuqi tailing behind you and saw your other five teammates chilling without any worries.

"Guys! We'll be heading to the headquarters of the red party, please ready yourselves and we'll leave in a bit."

Sua, Jennie, Joy, Sana, and Miyeon groaned in unison as they struggled to follow your orders.

"Oh stop with the fuss, we are all tired here... Don't worry I'll try to book a week vacation for us." You offered.

Their faces instantly lit up at what you said, causing them to gear up hastily which made you snort.

《at Red party's Headquarters》

You and the girls stepped out from the van then walked up to the entrance of the building.

"Hey Y/n, have you noticed... how tense Chief is acting lately?" Jennie said as she clings to your right arm.

The others immediately agreed to what the older girl uttered.

"I know right, maybe the mayor is putting some kind of pressure on him. I hope it stops after the elections." Sana continued while swiftly wrapping her arm around you.

"We don't know anything about that yet, let's just wait and see."

You finally composed yourself, and as if it was planned, Mayor Siwon appeared with his bodyguards behind him.

"Inspector Y/n, I'm so glad that you girls are here!"

He shook hands with you and the girls looked at him with hidden disgust, unknown to your own oblivious demeanor.

"That goes the same for us, Mr. Choi." You smiled politely.

"Uhm since my headquarters are about to open in an hour or two, I want to make sure everything is safe for my staff's last day of work."

He motioned to come closer to the sealed doors before unlocking them one by one.

"Here, I've opened the doors for you. Please if you can just have a quick look inside, I'll feel safer." You and the girls reluctantly stepped inside the offices.

Your team began to part ways and started to look around the vast hall.

Not even a few seconds had passed, a loud shriek coming from Joy made you dash to her side.

"What's wro– oh shit!" Yuqi cursed as she saw what the latter was screaming about.

There in front of you and the other officers was a man sitting in one of the office chairs, unfortunately, he was shot to death.

"Oh my god! B-but how could this happen, and is that the rookie model, Kwon Jiyoung? What is h-he even doing here?" Joy stuttered due to the terrifying scene.

"I've never liked him at all since he's been involved with some drug scandal, but to die like that and be shot right between the eyes? Damn..." Sua sighed.

Just then, the mayor called out.

"Inspector, is everything alright?" His eyes went wide when he saw Jiyoung's dead body.

"Oh god, I-I swear I had nothing to do with this! I'm innocent and history will prove it!" He exclaimed while starting to walk backwards.

"Calm down, Mr. Choi. We're just going to need to talk to you since Jiyoung was shot in your headquarters, after all." You warned him with your raspy voice.

'Ughh, daddy~' The girls thought except for Yuqi.

( a/n: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )

The mayor agreed and ushered you and your team to make it quick.

"Oh God, the press will surely crucify me once they knew about this. We need to do some damage control!"

After calming the man down, you added him to the profile list for being a possible suspect.

You told Jennie, Sana, and Joy to bring the victim's body to the morgue for an autopsy report. The rest are tasked to investigate the crime scene.

"Y/n! I found a receipt, this might be a clue." Miyeon said as you take a look on the faded paper.

It belonged to Jiyoung and it seems like he bought a drink at Lotte Hotel shortly before his death.

"Good job, maybe try checking the hotel after this search? You can bring Detective Jieun with you."

"Yes, Inspector!" She kissed your cheek before going back on finding clues or some fingerprints.

'Why are they so whipped for me...'

===

You and Yuqi are currently talking with the mayor in some private room within the Red party's offices. They are still some questions that Siwon needs to answer to give your team some information.

"Inspector, this cannot be happening! The journalists will have a field day with this if it goes out to the public!" He said and distress was evident on his face.

"I'm afraid that we cannot make this go all away, but I have already informed the Chief. I'm sure he'll keep this case confidential for a lotted time." Your partner reassured the man.

"I can't believe people would do this... Killing a man just to ruin my chances of being re-elected!"

Your brows furrowed at his statement.

"So you are claiming that you were framed?"

He reasoned that Kwon Jiyoung was an avid supporter of his campaign.

"I see, thank you for having time for us Mr. Mayor." You and Yuqi soon left the offices.

《back to Seoul Police Department》

The good news instantly came as the two of you arrived at the station. Coroner Kim Taeyeon reported that the victim was executed cleanly with an extremely precise shot. The killer seems to be right-handed due to the bullet trajectory and definitely knows how to handle a gun.

—————————————————

KILLER'S PROFILE

• handles guns

• right-handed

—————————————————

Meanwhile, Miyeon and Jieun just came back from investigating the lobby and bar of Lotte Hotel.

"Y/n, it's confirmed that Kwon Jiyoung came to the hotel shortly before his death. We also picked up a torn ticket, I'm sure it looks promising!" The detective said while handing you a clear zip bag which contains the clue.

"I see, let me try restore it in my office. I'll see you guys in a bit."

You sauntered towards your office and placed the torn pieces of the ticket on your table. You leaned one of your hands on the hard surface before starting to place the pieces together.

You're now down to the last part when someone back hugged you and nuzzled its face into the crook of your neck.

"Y/n~ let's cuddle~" Sana whined which made you chuckle.

"Now is not the time for that Sana-ssi, besides I just finished restoring the second clue." You showed her the finished product.

The girl snatched it from your hold before skimming through the details of the plane ticket. She also pushed you gently towards the table which made you sit on it, the latter smiled then placed herself on your lap.

"It says that this ticket was brought under Kwon Jiyoung's name. And this is a one-way ticket to Hawaii! Why he would even purchase such kind of trip?" Sana pouted as she turned her face towards you.

"You're right. As far as I know, Jiyoung's sole goal in life is to be a bona fide member of Seoul's exclusive luxury community. He'll never have left for some tropical islands..."

"The credit card number used to buy this ticket will help us understand everything! ...Oh no, it's badly printed... can you help decipher this for me Sana unnie?" You asked cutely.

"O-of course, I'll be done in no time!" You saw her blushing which made you smirk internally.

"Thanks, I really appreciate the help." You pressed a kiss on her forehead before leaving the latter flustered.

Your phone suddenly rang as you pressed answer, not even bothering to look at the name of the caller.

"Yah Park Y/n! We still need to have a chat with Kwon Boa, I'm barging in any second!" Yuqi exclaimed.

You groaned at her childish demeanor.

"I'll be back in an hour, please do your task okay?" You reminded Sana before finally meeting up with Yuqi.

===

《Seoul City Hall》

The press conference of the candidates just ended a few minutes ago, so you took it as an advantage and greeted the head of the blue party.

"Ah, Inspector Park! It's nice to see you, have you voted yet? After what happened today it seems like my victory tonight is almost ensured!" Boa expressed herself happily.

"Are you referring to Kwon Jiyoung's murder?" Yuqi asked as you watched the older woman in front.

"Hmm, I always had a hunch that the red party is populated with bloodthirsty maniacs. I mean making dreadful deeds just to advance their political agenda... Poor Mr. Kwon being shot at their own headquarters, now I'm sure that the citizens of Seoul will vote for me!"

"Anyways, my campaign has always been based on honesty and morals." The mayoral candidate stated.

You just sighed at her egocentric reply.

"I think that's all that we need to know for now, Mrs. Kwon. We'll keep in contact with you, just in case." You sent her a cold gaze before walking away with your partner.

Yuqi grumbled under her breath before draping her arms around your tall frame.

"These goddamn politicians are going to be the death of me..."

You chuckled on what she said.

"Same... Right now we only have two suspects."

"Yeah, we should close this case as soon as we can. By the way, Officer Chan told me that you should check your email soon. He said the mayor's staff sent you a video recording." Your partner explained.

You immediately grabbed your phone then opened your email.

1 unread inbox

You shared a meaningful glance with Yuqi before opening the said message.

A videotape is played which showed Kwon Boa sneaking into the Mayor's office, presumably right before Jiyoung was killed.

"I can't believe this! It's Mrs. Kwon! We should speak to her again right now–"

"Not so fast, Major Song." Chief Kim appeared with some of the SWAT officers behind him.

"Mrs. Kwon can wait, I want you two to go secure the stand where the election's winner will be announced."

"Huh? But Chief we can't lose time on finding–" you tried to argue, but as usual, you were cut off again.

"Finding Mr. Kwon's murderer is top-priority, but so is the election winner's safety! I'm counting on you Inspector Park, go talk to Boa and don't forget to check out the election stand on the way!"

You and your partner had no choice but to follow his orders instantly.

"Every goddamn time, he always cuts us off!" You whined childishly which is pretty rare.

After a few minutes of walking, the two of you arrived at the wide podium. It has two large posters of each party which is hanged opposite to one another. The guest tables were pretty scattered in front of it due to the neglecting visitors who came to watch the awaited conference a while ago.

"Let's split up, you're with the tables then the podium is mine." You instructed Yuqi.

"Yes ma'am!"

The two of you then started to inspect the area thoroughly without missing a single spot. There were a few plant vases on the stage which didn't look suspicious until you saw one that looked a bit unkempt and the soil was disheveled too.

'Oh! Looks like our killer messed up a little, too bad for him...'

You wore your leather gloves before analyzing the vase carefully. It seems like someone previously dug up a hole and covered it carelessly. A smirk crept into your lips as you shoved your hand in the soil and began to try feel any possible foreign object.

"What are you doing?" You looked down to see your partner doubting your current efforts to find a lead.

"I'm searching for any clues? Duh..."

You suddenly felt a hard item and struggled to have a grip on it. After a few seconds of harsh pulling, you finally hauled a small garbage bag with something wrapped completely inside it.

"Look what I got~" you grinned playfully.

"How the fuck did you–"

"I'm going to bring this to the forensic team, have anything useful too?" You asked while stepping down the podium.

"Uh I got this hidden camera on one of the tissue holders, and then I saw this notebook on the floor. The page is torn so I think It looks suspicious so yeah,"

Yuqi handed the portable camera and ripped notebook to you. She also helped on putting all the clues inside your forensic kit whilst you called for Officer Wooseok to pick you up from the city hall.

"I called for Jennie and Joy to help you talk with Mrs. Kwon again, I'm sure you can handle it without me right? I'll go ahead to the station to get this stuff examined." You bid a goodbye to your partner and told her to wait for the other girls.

'Let's see if the fun starts from now on.'

Part 2 coming soon...

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

How was ittt? Its my first time writing with these kind of theme sooo yeah hihi 🐶

[potatocrab]

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (18/18)

Chapter 18/Epilogue: We Could Go Places

Madelyn finally earns her happy ending.

“With my brains and your looks, we could go places.” - Frank Chambers as played by John Garfield (The Postman Always Rings Twice, 1946)

That’s all she wrote! Thank you to anyone to joined me on this wonderful journey! 😭

[read on Ao3] | [series masterpost]

June 22nd, 1958

“You’re late.”

Madelyn laughed at the sound of Nick’s voice, calling out to her the moment she arrived at the agency that morning, the bell above the front door indicating her presence. Her amusement persisted as she walked through the lobby, observing the care packages that filled the space. Even Ellie’s desk was covered with boxes and flower bouquets—more than what had been present the previous evening, or the day before that. There were more gifts scattered throughout the room, all sent in congratulations after news of Valentine Detective Agency’s success spread across Boston. Taking down Eddie Winter was one thing but solving a decade-old missing persons case and exposing a government conspiracy was another. Nobody expected the ragtag detective and his lawyer broad to take expose the Institute—not that anybody knew the university were hiding such abhorrent secrets in the first place.

She leaned against the doorway of Nick’s office, surprised by the lack of clutter that typically covered his desk. The stacks of case files and reports had been boxed away, leaving the room the cleanest she’d seen in years. Well, except for the small sprinkling of cigarette ash on the oak wood that he’d failed to hide—hell would freeze over before Nick Valentine gave up that habit. All that remained on his desk, aside from the usual decorations, was a single newspaper and a bottle of Irish whiskey, two perfectly poured glasses on standby. A Sunday tradition. 

Madelyn grinned. “I think I’m right on time.”

“I wonder if Grace Kelly received this many flowers when she won best actress,” she joked, walking over to take her usual seat in the armchair to the left.

Nick chuckled, rounding the desk to join her with the two glasses in hand, the bottle and newspaper tucked under his arm. “I’ll let you know when I start feeling like a Princess.”

“You should see Piper’s office,” he added, passing her one whiskey-filled glass and the weekend edition of Publick Occurrences before sitting down. “Gal’s been flooded with offers from all over the state, including the Bugle, to run their editorial departments.”

“She’ll never take them,” Madelyn contended. “She has enough resources and connections to finally fund a full staff. Maybe finally move into a bigger office and give us the space back so we can do the same.”

Even though Nick smiled at the idea, he reeled in his excitement. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Madelyn feigned innocence, shrugging as she hid her grin behind a generous gulp of whiskey.

He glanced at her curiously, smiling against the rim of his cup as he also took a drink. He expertly diverted the conversation. “So, where were you this morning?”

She considered lying just for the fun of it, but decided the truth was just as shocking. “Church.”

“Madelyn Hardy, once again attending Sunday mass,” Nick replied, shaking his head in humorous disbelief. “I thought I’d never see the day.”

Neither did she. Madelyn was sure she had lost her faith the day her husband died, buried it along with Nate to be forgotten. His death, and her survival was more than guilt—it was sin. And then, one New Year’s Eve party later, everything changed. She’d been tested over the last several months, and despite the grief and the loss, she was also at peace. Nate was at peace. Somewhere along the way, she’d found salvation.

“You could say I’m a changed woman.”

Nick considered her words in comfortable silence, the two slowly drinking their whiskey while exchanging soft, lingering smiles. It was reminiscent of the ‘good-ol-days’, but calmer. He said what she was already thinking. “I’ve changed too. We all have.”

Madelyn contemplated asking if he had any regrets, or if everything they had done was for the best when he silently gestured towards the newspaper draped across her lap. She glanced down, smirking at Piper’s headline. Reunited!

“She’s finally learned to reel it in,” she jested, looking over the picture of Shaun Pearlman—now eleven years old—standing with his parents, Nathan and Nora.

“After such headlines as The Boogeyman Banished, and The Synthetic Truth,” Nick’s laughter was at the expense of their dearest reporter friend. “The article speaks for itself. It’ll take some adjusting, but the kid will be alright.”

Madelyn studied the family portrait again, focusing on their smiling, overjoyed faces. “It isn’t everyday that somebody gets a happy ending.”

“They’ve earned it,” Nick remarked, just the slightest hint of sorrow passing through his light green eyes. Jenny—the heartache would never go away. He remained silent, but his smirk slowly returned, encouraging her to continue reading through the newspaper.

Inside, there was a picture of Hancock—John McDonough—formally announcing his plans to run for mayor in the 1959 election. He had already been working with the interim mayor after his brother’s death, ensuring that any lingering Institute corruption was snuffed out. His platform hadn’t changed much—of the people, for the people—and judging by the large outpouring of support, a lot of Bostonians dug what he was offering.

“Are you going to vote for him?” Madelyn teased, chuckling when Nick grumbled a sigh and rolled his eyes without an answer.

There was another article about Preston Garvey and his Minutemen, reclaiming their post in Quincy now that the Gunners had been successfully chased out of town. MacCready had found a place in their ranks, grinning like the sun was shining out of his ass in the group picture that accompanied the article. It was a good fit for the former mercenary, even if Preston was a little weary about accepting him at first. The network of neighborhood watchmen were supported by the newly reformed Boston Police, Sergeant Danny Sullivan himself promising to oversee their continued partnership.

Correction—Deputy Chief Danny Sullivan—earning quite the promotion after the fall of the Institute exposed and removed more corrupted individuals from power. He was running his own campaign, recruiting the best and brightest minds to fill the ranks throughout Boston’s precincts with the promise that integrity and stability were there to stay.

“Still have a long way to go,” Nick commented, his distrust of the system would linger too. “But it’s a start.”

Madelyn nodded in agreement, flicking her eyes to another one of Piper’s headlines—Mr. Danse Goes to Washington.

“He’s not going to be happy when he finds out about this,” she laughed.

“The Lieutenant will get over being compared to Jimmy Stewart,” Nick replied. “The man’s a war hero, isn’t he?”

Her laughter continued as she read over the article, trying not to imagine Lieutenant Danse in a comedic movie from the past, and instead as the dignified officer he was. The headline was tongue in cheek but accurate—he’d gone to Washington, D.C. to testify on capitol hill about what occurred at Fort Hagen between the Institute and the United States military. He’d also promised Nick and Madelyn that he’d watch over the federal investigation closely, ensuring another cover-up didn’t take place.

“Here,” Nick spoke, standing to snag a second, unseen Publick Occurrences from his desk. “Special edition. Hot off the presses, as Piper would say.”

Madelyn exchanged copies with him, setting down her glass so she could examine the front headline closely. Valentine and Hardy—The Unstoppables.

“So are you the Silver Shroud or The Inspector?” she giggled, covering her mouth.

“Ha, ha, Mistress of Mystery,” he retorted sarcastically, sitting back down across from her.

There was a picture of them standing in front of the office building, the neon light of the agency sign burning brilliantly behind them. The longer she stared at it, the larger her smile became, warmth radiating through her body. She’d never felt more proud or honored to be a part of something important. She felt at home.  

“This is going to give you more exposure than you’ve ever had,” she remarked, tapping the paper with her fingers. “There’s going to be people lining out the door asking for your help!”

“Our help,” Nick corrected with a small smile, leaning forward in his chair. “That is, if you’re still up to the task of being my partner.”

“Of course Nick,” Madelyn answered immediately, unable to stop from grinning. “You’d be hard pressed to find a woman as willing as I am to put up with your brand of bullshit.”

He laughed, louder and heartier than she’d heard him sound in a long time. “Has anyone ever told you how charming you are?”

Madelyn tilted her head to the side. “Funny you should mention that.”

The laughter settled into quiet mirth as Nick looked into his empty glass with a sigh. “I need a vacation first.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he echoed. “Starting with a proper meal. Care to join me?”

Any other time and Madelyn would’ve said yes. She frowned as she shook her head. “I have a date.”

“That’s nothing to pout about,” Nick smirked. The detective—her partner—regarded her with a warm smile. “I can forgive you this one time.”

The warmth had settled in her heart, and she wondered if she was glowing as she smiled at him, the happiest she’d felt in years. Nick reached over to gently clasp her hand, squeezing her fingers as he spoke. “It’s a good look, Madelyn.”

She stood up, leaning over the small distance to place a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, Nick.”

“Sure, sure,” he watched her as she left, lingering only for a moment in the doorway. “See you later, doll.”  

Madelyn sat in the vinyl blue booth of the Slocum’s Joe, gazing out the window and watching as people passed by on the sidewalk. Cambridge wasn’t nearly as busy since the Institute’s downfall, but hundreds of people still called considered the Boston neighborhood their home—including her. She’d made occasional trips to her apartment in the last few weeks but had only recently started living in D7 again now that she was sure it was safe. Codsworth and Dogmeat were more than pleased to have her home, the Mister Handy unit suffering a bout of anxiety after being separated from his mistress—even if it shouldn’t have been possible with his programing. Even now, the robot had difficulty letting her out of his sight, and she laughed when she noticed Codsworth across the street, hovering about as he walked Dogmeat, a leash tied to one of his metal arms.

“What’s so funny?”

She glanced up to find Deacon setting down two cups of coffee before sliding into the booth across from her. Two sugars and a little bit of cream for her, straight black for him. He wasn’t in his usual suit, swapped out for something far more casual and befitting for summer, black wig left forgotten on her bedside table. Of course, he’d never leave without securing his sunglasses—his eyes were only for her to see.

Madelyn titled her head, gesturing out the window as she took a slow sip. “It seems I’m always destined to have somebody stalking me.”

“I take offense to that,” he held a hand over his chest, feigning attack from her teasing words. “To imply that I stalked you.”

Madelyn struggled to contain her giggling behind her cup. “Hmm, and what would you call it?”

“Careful observation from afar,” he said, brows furrowing for a moment as he inspected the contents of his coffee before taking a careful taste—always with the suspicion. You can’t trust everyone, even the barista at their regular coffeehouse, it seemed.  

“What would you call it now?”

Deacon smirked at her flirtatious question. “An up-close and personal liaison.”

Madelyn smiled, her heart racing in excitement as it usually did when they danced around this subject. There still hadn’t been much of a discussion—or a confession—since their infiltration of the Institute. No clear conversation about what their relationship meant. It didn’t stop them from acting like lovers, a constant stop-and-go ever since the evening she got shot, pausing when they needed to focus on the case instead of romance. Now that there were no more distractions, what she desperately yearned for was full steam ahead. She darted her eyes back out the window, forcing her mind to stop before she spiraled into anxiety and doubt. She was happy—right?

Deacon’s hand reached over the table to cover hers. “Do you want to go to D.C.?”

She glanced back to his face, momentarily surprised by his question. Any joke she thought about making—that everybody was going south—fell away. “With you?”

His expression faltered. “No, with Drummer Boy,” he said sarcastically.  

“I dunno,” she nervously laughed, humor the only defense mechanism she could rely on. “Robby makes for a pretty good date when you aren’t—”

“Charmer,” he groaned, fingers tightening around hers, even though a smile dared to pull at his lips.

“Is this one of your business trips?” she persisted. “Or would this be for pleasure?”

“Why can’t it be both?” he responded, and it sounded witty enough, except all traces of humor had disappeared. “Can’t you tell when a guy is trying to be serious?”

Madelyn swallowed, and released a shaky breath. “What is it?”

Deacon didn’t say anything, and she was afraid she’d scared him off with her teasing. Minutes passed before he finally reached up and removed the darkened shades from his face, placing them on the table next to their forgotten coffee cups. Blue eyes locked on blue, but still, he remained silent.

“What do you want?” she prompted, slowly turning her hand over to lace their fingers. “Deacon?”

She’d seen that emotion in his eyes before—just last week—when he tried to tell her something important, and she denied him the opportunity. This time, she wasn’t afraid.

“I want…”

“Je t’aime,” she answered, filling the silence when he trailed off. His eyes widened, the shock quickly subsiding as a bright smile pulled at his lips. Madelyn knew it was a simple saying, but still translated. “I love you.”

“I—”

Not everyday that Deacon was at a loss for words. He suddenly moved, slipping out from his side of the booth and swiftly sliding in to join her. Madelyn turned to meet him, laughing as the butterflies swarmed her stomach like she was experiencing this—love—again, all for the first time. He leaned in close so only she could hear.

“Je t’aime,” he repeated with an ever-growing smile. “I love you too.”

There was nothing left to say, so he kissed her instead. Madelyn smiled against his lips, sighing when his arms wrapped around her in a warm embrace. Deacon was still grinning when they parted, eyes shining with an emotion she wanted to keep there forever. He pulled her close, and she rested her head against his shoulder, switching her gaze back outside.

The sun was shining, and she was happy.

[hanniiesuckle17]

Guns and Blankets

A/n: not requested but I have been doing too many Stray Kids posts lately holy crap this got long. yes it is heavily inspired by BBC sherlock

ASKS AND REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Member: Jung Hoseok ft. BTS

WARNINGS: Mild violence, swearing, partial smut?, smoking (don't do it kids), alcohol

Summary: Y/n L/n is the world's closest thing to Sherlock Holmes. Her intellect was unparalleled by anyone, but her snide and sarcastic remarks and attitude kept her from joining the force. However, Chief of Police Kim Namjoon can't help but enlist the services of the consulting detective. To the outside, Y/n may seem cold, calculating, and emotionless, but her partner ( Dr.Jung Hoseok) sees a different side of her.

Genre: nonidol!au, detective!au, police!au, sherlockholmes!au, mystery, comedy, angst

I paced the floor of my dark apartment, mind running. "Is your goal to create a dent, because you are doing mighty good work." I scoffed at my partner who sat in the armchair reading the paper.

"I'm waiting. I thought domestic people like you understood that concept." The young man with dark hair chuckled as he watched me burn a hole through my wood floor. My head shot towards the window at the sound of a car pulling up. "Finally, Kim shows up with something to do!"

"A nice murder. That always cheers you up, love."

I could hear the grin in Hoseok's words. "Oh shut up! You love it as much as I do, Mr. Military Doctor." I couldn't kept the smile from breaking onto my face no matter how hard I tried. "Y/n!" The familiar voice of Chief Inspector Kim Namjoon came up the stairs to my apartment.

"What is it this time, Kim?" He stopped in the doorway, out of breath. "Body? Kidnapping? Attempted political assassination? All very fun." He shook his head and started to pull his phone out of his pocket. "No. This was sent to me twenty minutes ago." He showed me a picture of a shabby empty room, but something was ominous and familiar about it.

"I know this room. Where do I know this room." Hoseok came behind me to look over my shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by my cellphone ringing on the table.

Handing Hoseok the phone I went to pick up mine. "Y/n L/n speaking." There was silence on the other end. The two men spoke in hushed tones conversing about the photo. "Hello?" The line was live and my ears picked up the slightest sound of breathing on the other side. "You're wasting my very valuable time by-"

"Y/n."

"Yes, Hoseok. What is it?"

"The room. Isn't it the apartment downstairs?"

Hanging up the phone I looked again at the photo. Without a word, I took off down the stairs yelling for out landlady, Mrs. Yang. Grabbing the keys from her painted nails I rushed to the door and opened it, Kim and Hoseok hot on my heels. I froze when my eyes landed on the center of the room.

"What? What is it?" A pair of women's trainers lay side by side in the exact center of the room. Dusty light came through the old windows illuminating the area.

"Well that's not creepy."

The second I took a step forward my phone rang once again, breaking the heavy silence. Gingerly, I pulled out the device and put it on speaker. "Hello." I said quietly still examining the shoes from afar.

Heavy,shaky breathing filled the room before a women's voice spoke. "H-hello...s-se-sexy..." In my peripherals I saw Hoseok move to my right near the wall.

"Who is this-"

"I....s-sent you a...li-little p-puzzle.....Just to say...h-hi."

"Whose talking? Why are you crying?"

Kim's eyes moved between me and the shoes. My mind was reeling with the new information being shown to me.

"I'm n-not crying...I'm t-typing...and this stupid...b-bitch is reading my w-words."

My feet moved forward towards the shoes to examine them. "Careful!" Kim said. "This sounds like a power play. The guy could be a bomber."

Handing Hoseok the phone I crouched lightly on the floor, putting the pieces together.

"14...hours to solve m-my puzzle,...Y/n.....or I will b-be ve-very naughty."

More crying could be heard on the line. I turned to my right to see Hoseok with his eyes closed and head against the wall, a strained expression on his face.

"Time starts now..."

The line went dead and silence filled the room. Hoseok opened his eyes only to flinch as I lifted the shoes from the floor. "I know these shoes...."

"You have the department's full support. Anything you need."

"Oh, Yoongi will be happy about that."

Hoseok chuckled and slipped my phone in my pocket as I turned to him.

"Come on, Hoseok. I'm sure Tae is at the lab. We've got a puzzle to solve."

"I'm sure Taehyung will be very happy to see you." Every inch of Hoseok's voice was dripping with jealousy. Something I rather enjoyed hearing.

Five hours had passed as I studied the shoes. Taehyung was more than happy to let us use the morgue's lab once again. Hoseok idly chatted with me as I worked, something I had grown accustomed to but did not so much to say enjoy. The short silence was broken once again by my cell.

"Pass me my phone?" My eyes never left the microscope as I spoke to him.

"Where is it?"

"Pocket."

With a sigh, Hoseok got up and reach into my back pocket.

"Careful there, Hobi." A smirk played on my lips as I turned to him behind me. That small knowing smile creeped onto his face. He knew something the rest of the world didn't. I had quite the soft spot for him. In more ways than one.

As he opened my phone I turned to the computer screen to analyze the new results. "Text from your brother."

"Delete it. It's not important."

"He seems to think so. Something about national security codes."

"Codes are already out of the country by now. Nothing I can do about it. Besides he pretty much is the South Korean government he can fix it like a big boy. All by himself."

Hoseok tossed my phone beside me on the table and walked back to his seat on my right.

"Besides....someone else is being way more fun."

The computer finished just as the door opened to reveal Taehyung with starry eyes aimed towards me. "Any luck?" "Yes, finally." A warm body followed behind him shortly after.

"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Hyun- Hi! Oh my God! No come in."

The woman came over slowly to stand next to Tae, but I paid her no mind, continuing with my work.

"Hyunah, this Y/n L/n. And her.....Juny Hoseok." My partner politely shook hands with her but I could feel her stare on my back, though I ignored it.

"Hi...So....you're Y/n L/n. Taehyung has told me all about you." Her voice had a sultry tone to it.

"Yes, dear Tae has a tendency to do that."

"Are you working on one of your cases? I'm such a fan." She moved near Hoseok to try and peek at the screen. "Hyunah works in IT upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance!" My eyes scanned her over picking up every detail about her.

"Gay."

"Sorry what?" Tae said shocked.

"Nothing sorry. Hey."

Cast a nod towards her, she smiled and dropped a metal pan that rest on the edge of the table.

"Oh sorry! Oh my god!" She bent down to pick it up revealing the bright red skivy up her skirt, causing Hoseok to look away.

"I should be going." She placed the pan back on the table and bade a quick farewell to Tae with a kiss on the cheek before exiting.

"Gay? We're together."

"And domestic life must suit you Taehyung. You've put on three pounds."

"It's not three! Maybe two and a half!"

"Three."

"She's not gay! She's n- Y/n why do you have to spoil-"

"With that hair color?"

Hoseok scoffed beside me. "What because she died her hair orange. I've died my hair before." "No, love you've bleached your hair. There's a difference."

"She isn't gay."

"You failed to notice those tired clubbers eyes, the quite prominent pride themed tattoo on inside of her forearm, and obviously the short nails. Most women don't really like that you know feeling."

"Short nails?"

"Also the extremely suggestive fact that she slipped me her number before leaving."

Pulling the sticky note from under the pan Hyunah knocked over I handed it to Taehyung before looking back at the microscope.

"Call me xoxo. She quite straight to the point. I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain, Tae."

With a glare mixed with hurt Taehyung simply turned and left the room. "Charming. Well done, Y/n."

"Oh please. You are you jealous a girl has put more moves on me than you have."

Getting out of his chair Hoseok came to tower over me. "You know that's not my problem but yours." It was true. I liked fucking with him, but I was afraid to let my heart have precedence over my head.

Two and a half days later and two puzzles had been solved within the time limit. Now I was just waiting for something to happen. I sighed as I flexed my arm. Promising Hobi I'd quit smoking was maybe the hardest things I'd encountered.

"I've brought take out and vodka-what are you doing!?"

"Nicotine patch."

"Three of them?"

"It's a three patch problem."

He sighed and opened the bottle pouring himself a glass before downing all of it. "Why isn't he doing anything?" Hoseok collapsed onto my couch, his arm spread over the back behind my head and his other hand pulling my legs into his lap so we could both fit on the small couch.

"I don't know. I'm happy not to think about anything for a while."

"What's it like living in your head? It must be awfully boring."

"Not really, I have you to keep me on my toes."

See most people would recognize the consequences of hard liquor and sexual tension, but I honestly didn't care. So when the sky grew dark all other senses are heightened. Sound. Taste. Touch.

That seemed to be the favorite of the night touch. His hands felt secure on my body as the moved across it like paint on a canvas. My lips couldn't help but find pieces of raw skin waiting to be marked as Hoseok lay on top of me. The smell of smoke and alcohol filled the bedroom, leaving my mind a blur.

The feeling of Hoseok filled my entire body and was better than any alcohol or drug I had ever taken. I felt a lack of control and I loved it. Hoseok thrust into me at a deep and steady pace and his lips moved down to my chest and attaching themselves to my breast. My fingers pulled at his dark locks eliciting a deep melodical groan from Hoseok that fueled my need even more.

A heavy pounding on my door awakened me from a heavy sleep. Light was just beginning to break outside my window. Hoseok lay under me with an arm wrapped tightly around my stomach. Hoseok still stayed fast asleep so quietly I got out of bed and slipped on a pair of sweats and put my black bra back on. The pounding continued.

"ALRIGHT! I'M COMING!" I screamed before running to open the door. Opening the door I found Kim And Min Yoongi standing in the hall. "Yoongi."

"Y/n."

"Yoongi face the other way. You're putting me off."

"Nice sex hair."

"At least I can get off with fucking and not having to be an ignorant asswipe."

"Yoongi shut up. Y/n let us inside." I opened the door further and motioned for the two men to enter, but not without flipping off the idiot.

"Another one?" Kim nodded before responding. "Down by the docks. We got a call this morning. You have 12 hours. Sounded like an older woman this time. Aparently she's blind." I smiled, excited by the new development in our little game.

"Hobi, nice of you to join us. Sorry I left you darling." I turned hearing footsteps coming from the bedroom. Hoseok stood with messy hair in only a pair of sweats he kept at my place. "You're fine." He said with a small but sad smile.

Yoongi scoffed before turning to me, taking in both of our states. "I didn't realize a psychopath like you could have a soft spot for your little doctor."

"I'm not a psychopath, Yoongi. I'm a high-functioning sociopath, do your fucking research."

"Ladies, stop fighting. We've got a murder to solve."

After changing Hoseok and I followed the two officers in a taxi to the docks. A slight mist rained down on us as we arrived at the destination. Police tape bordered the area and several officers milled about a car parked near some shipping crates.

As we got closer, I could see blood dripping out of the driver's side door. My eyes searched the car over. "Car was hired yesterday by a Jeon Minhyuk. Looks like about a pint of blood." Kim said, crouching next to the open car.

"Not about. Exactly. Most likely planted here on purpose. Our victim-"

"Jeon Minhyuk."

"Yeah, whatever. Long story short. Abduction not murder."

My eyes caught the sight of a middle aged woman crying next to some officers. "Who's that?" Yoongi nodded towards her. "Jeon's wife. Got here just before you did."

I nodded and stuffed my hands in my pockets as I turned to Hoseok. "Let's go talk to her, darling."

I took a breath of cold air before approaching the crying woman. "Mrs.Jeon?" She turned and frowned at our presence. "Yes, look I've already spoken with the police-" "Yes, ma'am. We aren't police." Hoseok interrupted politely.

"Y/n L/n." I reached out to shake her hand with a broken look.

"A very good friend of your husband's. We-uh... we grew up together."Tears started to fall from my cheeks as I 'recalled' the memory.

"I'm sorry? Who are you?" She said shaking her head.

"This is my husband, Hoseok." He politely shook her hand while casting me a side glance.

"I-don't think he ever mentioned you."

"No-no. He must've- I just can't believe it. I was just with him the other day. Same old Minhyuk not a care in the world."

Her face changed dramatically. "I'm sorry, but my husband has been depressed for months. Who are you?"

"Strange that he hired a car?" I said looking back the car and wiping away some of the tears. "Why would he do that? But suspicious isn't it?"

"No it isn't! He forgot to renew the tax on the car that's all."

"Ah. That was Minhyuk. That was Minhyuk all over. Forgetting everything."

"No it wasn't!"

"Wasn't it? Interesting."

My face turned straight and I turned back to the car walking away. "Do you enjoy lying to people?" Hoseok asked with a smile. "People don't like to tell you things, but they love to contradict you." I couldn't help but smile at Hobi's laugh. "Did you notice?" I asked.

"What?"

"I referred to her husband in the past tense and she joined in. Bit premature. We've only found the car. She's in on it."

My eyes drifted to a sticker on the bumper. Janus Cars. "Hobi." Pointing to the sticker he crouched to inspect it. "Janus? The only Janus I know is the top headed Egyptian god."

"Well let's go see."

Five hours were down as we entered the office of Kim Hyojong, owner of Janus cars. "Yeah rented the car out to him yesterday." The man said as he scratched his arm. "Mazda Rx8 I believe. Wouldn't mind one myself." He smirked as he pulled up the sleeves of his shirt revealing an expensive watch.

"Is that one?" I pointed to a random picture on the wall as I walked around. When he turned I quickly inspected the back of his neck before turning around. "Uh... that's a jag. Not a car girl I see."

"Surely you can afford one, a Mazda I mean." Hoseok said, pulling the attention off of me for a moment as I inspected the man for a few more minutes.

"Have you got any change for the cigarette machine? I'm practically gasping." Hoseok shot me a glare as I held out a ten and watched as the man pulled out his wallet.

"No, sorry."

After thanking him the two of us walked out side by side. "If absolutely need to....here. I've got change."

"Don't need it, darling. Nicotine patches, remember?" I said pulling up my sleeve to reveal another two added on my arm. "Too expensive to smoke nowadays anyhow."

"So what was that all about?" He said pulling down my sleeve quickly. "Needed to see inside his wallet. Did you see? All foreign bills." My growing speech was interrupted by my phone ringing.

"Y/n L/n."

"The clue is in the name. Janus Cars."

An older female voice came through the phone. The blind lady. Yes almost forgot. Bomb and everything.

"Why are you giving me a hint?"

"Why does anyone do anything......I like to watch....you...dance...."

The line went dead. Hoseok looked to me with brows raised. "Phone Kim. Tell him to bring the car to the garage."

Eight hours in and I was sure. Kim and Hoseok stood with me in front of the car, waiting for my explanation.

"The blood was their first mistake. Exactly a pint. But it is definitely Jeon Minhyuk's, though frozen. There are traces. I had Tae run some tests. I think Minhyuk gave a pint of his blood a while ago and that it was Janus Car's spread on the seat."

"Janus Cars?"

"Yes, the clue is in the name."

"That God with two faces?" Namjoon asked.

"Exactly. Janus Cars offers a less than legal service to help you disappear from certain problems whatever they may be."

"So where is Jeon?" Kim questioned again.

"Brazil." I said closing the car door.

"What?"

"Kim Hyojong had a 20000 Brazilian peso note in his wallet as well as some change, the dick. Which means he had been abroad recently. When I asked him about the cars he turned and I saw an obvious tan line on his neck. Somewhere hot, but not for pleasure. No one wears a shirt on the fucking beach. Next his arm-"

"His arm?"

"Do stop interrupting. It's quite annoying and we have a bomb to stop. Yes his arm. He was scratching it and It was bleeding. Most likely because he had a booster jab. The therefore out Jeon Minhyuk is somewhere lying in a cabana in Brazil thanks to Janus Cars."

I pulled out my phone and posted the answer on my website like I had the past two times. "Y/n how long have you known?" "It was very simple. I knew the bomber had given us twelve hours so I finished this and was able to complete other things."

"Other things! That woman has been sitting there with a bomb strapped to her chest." Immediately my phone rang.

"Hello."

"Help me...." the woman cried out softly.

"Tell us where you are. Address."

"They were....so-....They're voice was-"

"No! Don't tell me anything about them!"

"They sounded...so soft-"

The sound of an explosion could be heard right before the line went dead. "Hello!" My shaking hand dropped the phone. I stood frozen in place. Hoseok took my face in his hands. "Y/n? Y/n, love? Look at me. What happened?" The words were stuck in my throat.

"It's-.....it's not fair. I answered! She started to describe him and she- Oh my god!" My fingers pulled at the roots of my hair and anxiety and panic started to kick in.

"Namjoon, there was an explosion go get a squad. I'll take care of her." Hoseok pried my hands away from my face where my nails where scratching at my hair and skin in panic.

"Y/n....I'm right here it's okay. Fuck!" My vision spun and it felt like nails were driving into my skull. Clutching my head I collapsed on the parking garage floor. "I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE! TAKE IT AWAY! TAKE IT AWAY FROM ME!" I screamed and pushed Hoseok's hands away as he tried to rip off all five of the nicotine patches, which certainly weren't helping the situation.

"I CAN'T DO IT ANYMORE! THERE IS TOO MUCH UP HERE! There's no room for me." I clutched my head even tighter as tears spilled onto my cheeks. Hoseok tried to pull me towards him in Hope's of calming me down.

"I don't want this gift! I don't want it! There is no more room for me! It's too much stuff in my head! Hoseok, please make it go away!" I pounded on his chest and cried like a baby as he pulled me into his lap on the ground.

"I don't want to be smart anymore.......It's too much......I can't be responsible for all of this!"

The last thing I remember was passing out in Hoseok's arms.

I woke up again to darkness. Sitting up, my coat was hanging on the door and I had been put in a tshirt that wasn't mine. The clock on my beside table read two a.m. Hoseok lay next to me, sleeping soundly. I sighed and pulled open the drawer searching for a pack of cigarettes. After finding a singular one I walked to the door and pulled a flash drive out of my coat pocket.

Lighting the cigarette I walked into the living room and to my laptop. Quickly I posted something on my website and got dressed. As I walked towards the front door, my eyes got sight of the bedroom. Hoseok shifted in his sleep a little bit.

With a sigh I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote a note.

1067 Hangguk Ave.

Trust me.

Taping it on the door, I closed it and grabbed a taxi to take me downtown.

I entered the large ornate library in silence. My footsteps were the only sound that echoed throughout the three store building. Hundreds of book shelves lined the area, the only light was from the bright moon as it shone through the huge glass window in the back.

"I've brought you a little getting to know you present." I said my voice echoing off the rounded roof as I held up the flash drive.

"This is what it has all been for right? All your little puzzles. Making me dance....Just for this."

The sound of a door opening made me turn around. It took all of my power not to let the look of terror show on my face. A figure walked towards me through the dark. A figure I knew. My half brother.

"Seokjin?"

He wore a black winter trench coat and a straight expression. "Evening."

"This is a twist, isn't it Y/n? Bet you didn't see this coming." My hand lowered to my side as I tried to regain my composure.

"What...would you like me....to make him say.... next?"

Seokjin opened his coat to reveal several bombs strapped to his chest over his normal suit. A little red dot was also now trained on his chest. Frantically I searched for the shooter in the balconies.

"Humpty Dumpty....sat on a wall.....Humpty Dumpty.....had a......great...fall-"

"ENOUGH!" I screamed.

"He is one of the only....people you care about....isn't that right.......Y/n."

"Stop it."

"I can stop his heart.....if you like...."

Seokjin's face fell and he gulped at his own words. It was true. Seokjin had always looked out for me, even though I was a huge smartass. He never complained once about his ten year old sister being in junior year with him.

"Who are you?" Another door opened behind me and the sound of heels clicked across the floor.

"Gave you my number. Thought you might call."

Shadows drifted across her face as she came to stand in the moonlight. A playful smirk was drawn on her painted lips.

"Is that .45 Dan Wesson Specialist in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

Her voice was smooth like honey and dripped with confidence. “Both.” Keeping my face straight I pulled the gun out from my jacket. “Kim HyunA......Hi.” The woman stepped further into the light, revealing the rest of her sculpted face.

“Hyunah? Hyunah from the morgue? Huh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression on you? But then I suppose that was the point of the whole thing.” She stepped closer. Something about the way she spoke sent shivers down my spine. My grip on the gun grew tighter. My eyes flickered to my brother to see the red dot still there.

“Oh don’t be silly, love. Someone else is holding to gun. Don’t really like to get my hands dirty.” She circled to stand behind my brother, and evil smile on her lips. “All those puzzles; did you like them?” The look on her face told she wasn’t looking for an answer she was just toying with me.

“I’ve given you a glimpse, Y/n. Just the tiniest glimpse of what I have got going on in this big bad world. No one ever gets to me.” Her stare never left me as she whispered in Jin’s ear, chuckling as he shuddered.

“I did.” My fingers cocked the gun and kept it aimed towards her. She coolly moved to the right of my brother and towards me.

“You’ve come the closest. Now you’re in my way.”

“Aww thanks.”

“Didn’t mean it as a compliment, love.”

“Yes you did.”

“Yeah, okay I did.” 

Her words left a playful ring in the air and often went up in tone giving me chills. There was a fire beneath her eyes. Something dangerous. Something deadly. “But, the flirting is over, Y/n. Mommy has had enough now!” Her painted nails played with my brothers jacket. The most subtle sign of dominance. She was in control of everything.

“I’ve cut loose all those people. All those problems-”

“People have died.”

“That’s what people DO!”

Her voice echoed off the cavernous walls making me realize how alone we truly were. A moment of eerie silence followed causing me to reach into my pocket pulling out a simple black flash drive. My brother visibly gulped when he saw them. “Y/n you wouldn’t. Those codes are top secret.” 

“This is what you want yes?” She smirked and came over, plucking the drive from my hands. “Oooo. Missile codes.” She eyes the small object in her hands before meeting my gaze again.

“I could’ve got them anywhere.” With that she dropped the drive on the floor and crushed it with her heel. “Y/n, I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet but I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order if I wanted to at any second.”

She pulled a gun from under her blazer. “So take this as a friendly warning. Back off.” She brought up the weapon and clearly aimed it at me. “What if I was to shoot you now?” She gave a sing song laugh that rang throughout the room. “Well then you would be able to cherish the look of surprise on my face. Because, if you did, Y/n, I would truly be surprised. But, you wouldn’t be able to cherish it for long.” She loaded and cocked her own gun as well. 

“As you might have figured out, I can’t very much leave you here after I leave, so......” With a shrug she pointed the gun back at me, a smirk on her face.

“Ciao, Y/n L/n-”

The sound of a gunshot sounded and I closed my eyes for the briefest moment and I felt blood splatter across my cheek. Opening my eyes, I saw HyunA lying on the ground. Dead. Turning around I saw a small hole in the window where the bullet must have come through. My eyes then looked towards the building across the street. 

“Y/n?” My brother called out.

Rushing to him I hastily threw the coat as far away from us as possible. The both of us looked up at the sound of sirens and red and blue flashing lights coming from the front. Within seconds five policemen burst through the door and took us outside to waiting ambulances.

My feet dangled off the back of an ambulance as I sat there trying to get the EMT to take the stupid orange blanket off of me. Chief Kim interrupted the scene.

"Why do I need this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me."

"It's for shock."

"I'm not in shock. Nothing is shocking about a man getting shot." He scoffed and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"No sign of the shooter." Kim shook his head and looked to the building across the street. "Cleared off before we got here. We've got nothing to go on."

A single disapproving look from me shut him up. "I wouldn't say that." He nodded for me to continue with a smile. "The bullet the just dug from the bookcase is a handgun. A kill shot over that distance with that type of weapon is a crack shot we're looking for. Not just a marksman; a fighter. Hands wouldn't have shaken which means they're acclimatized to violence. They didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, so one would infer they have great moral principle."

My eyes wandered as I spoke, trying to recall every detail I could gather about the shooting.

"You are most likely look for a male with a history of military service, nerves of steel, who-......." My eyes landed on Hoseok who was standing by one of the police cars simply watching all that was going around him and my words sort of trailed off. He turned and smiled innocently at me, shaking me from my trance. "Actually you know what. Ignore me."

"Sorry?"

"Ignore everything I just said. It's uh-it's just the uh-shock talking. Yeah sure."

"Where are you going? I've still got questions!"

"Oh what now! I'm in shock! Look I've got a blanket and everything!"

Kim called out to me as I walked away towards Hoseok who smiled as I came closer. "What's with the blanket?" "It's for shock. Please take the fucking thing away from me." He laughed as I shoved it into his arms. We walked side by side to the nearest main street to catch a taxi.

"Nice shot by the way."

"Yes, must have been."

"You would know."

He looked at his feet, a smile creeping onto his cheeks. "Thank you, Hoseok." My hand reached over for his and quickly latched onto his fingers. "You were very dumb to leave alone."

"Yes, but I knew you'd follow me."

"How on earth did you deduce that?"

"You love me."

He smiled down at me, the tips of his ears turning pink. "A very good deduction." His hand came up to my cheek and stroked the skin their lovingly. "I'm impatient kiss me already." He laughed and lent down to place a kiss on my lips.

Masterlist

[maegfen]

⭐ Tell me about the thing you’ve been waiting for an excuse to talk about or point out. Or whatever.

I wasn’t sure if there was a particular fandom you were interested in dear anon, so I’ve gone with the most recent one I’ve written and posted something in: Miss Scarlet and the Duke. It’s a tiny little fandom at the moment, but everyone is lovely and the fic being written is great.

If you’ve not seen the show, it’s about a woman detective called Eliza Scarlet. It’s set in the Victorian era and she solves various crimes in London. She spends a lot of time arguing/ working with an old childhood friend William ‘The Duke’ Wellington, an inspector with Scotland Yard. There is a lot of tension between them, and it is great and I will be gutted if there is not a second series.

The section I really wanted to talk about was the following, from my first MSatD fic “Take comfort in my arms”:

It’s a missing scene from the first episode, after Eliza’s father Henry dies (this happens pretty early on, it’s not really a massive spoiler.)

I’ll put the rest under a read more because I rambled... oops!

~*~*~

“He’s dead, William.”

He knew then, knew to whom she referred and he felt it like a gut punch. No, not Henry, no! How could this be? William sucked in a breath, struggled for composure. Henry had been like a father, his mentor, his friend, and if he was feeling as wretched as this, then he couldn’t possibly fathom the pain which filled the woman standing in front of him.

“Oh, Eliza.”

He reached out for her then, instinctively, subconsciously. It was probably untoward, and if anyone caught him he’d have stick at the station for weeks, but William pulled her close regardless. He expected to be pushed away, for her to reprimand him for the invasion of her personal space. Instead, Eliza returned the embrace, held him tight around his waist and William swore that she may never let him go.

William felt rather than heard her sobs, felt Eliza’s hot breath on through his waistcoat and shirt. He just held her, just tried to support one of his oldest friends as well he could. He felt awkward, but knew she needed this, that he needed this. Yes, Eliza had lost her dear father, but William had loved Henry as if he were his own flesh and blood. It just… hurt.

He’d not held her so close in years, since he’d kissed her all that time ago. She’d been crying then too.

Eliza’s sobs were muffled in his waistcoat, but he allowed her the time to process. There was little he could do, could only really do this until she was calm enough to talk. William pulled back a little and placed at soft kiss on her forehead. He felt ridiculous, but Eliza seemed to appreciate the gesture, pulling him slightly closer at a result of the action.

He coughed slightly then, and moved his hand to swipe at the stray tear that had formed at his eye. He would grieve and mourn, but not now, not with Eliza right here. It wouldn’t be fair to take her pain and try to overshadow it with his own.

Eventually, Eliza’s sobs turned to the shuddering breaths one would expect of someone fighting to gain control. She pulled back and relinquished her hold on him. William took the signal for what it was and took a small step back, putting distance between them, but staying close enough in case she needed him again. He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around the room as he allowed Eliza to compose herself.

“You’ve ruined my best shirt,” he muttered, glancing down at her, a soft forgiving smile on his lips.

Eliza smiled back, just a little, just enough.

“Oh come on William, it’s hardly your best shirt; it smells like you’ve been living in it for a week while soaking in alcohol.”

He huffed half-heartedly and offered her his handkerchief. She took it and dabbed at her slowly drying eyes. William stepped forward and placed his hand on her cheek, carefully using his thumb to wipe away a stray tear. Eliza reached up a hand and placed it over his, squeezing his fingers slightly before dropping it to her side once more. She motioned to give him his handkerchief back but William merely shook his head as he swept his thumb over her cheek once more.

“Keep it,” he whispered softly.

He knew they wouldn’t mention this again, it wasn’t who they were, not really, not now. He dropped his hand and took a step back. Eliza was quiet for a moment before she spoke.

~*~*~

“Take comfort in my arms” was the first story I finished and posted in nearly 18 months (my last story was a Wynonna Earp one in November 2018, and before that my posting had been sporadic at best) and Miss Scarlet and the Duke was the first fandom in a long time to spark the creative juices. It’ll hold a special place in my heart for that, and it’s a fic that helped me get in touch with the lovely people in the fandom, so I’m thankful for that too!

I wrote it, I think, after I’d seen the whole series, and I’d been thinking about what scenes I would have loved to have seen - this was one of them and thus the story was born. It’s not my greatest work, I’m well aware of that, but I really enjoyed writing it, and the section above especially.

William and Eliza have known each other for years - William had worked with her father when Henry was an inspector himself and William was just starting out in the force as a young man, so there was a connection between the two men, as well as familiarity between Eliza and William. (They shared a kiss when they were younger too - after Eliza’s dog had died - they talk about it a lot even though they both say they don’t want to talk about it...) What I really liked writing about in this section was William’s sense of loss and how he tries to deal with the death of Henry. He’s hurt and mourning at the announcement, but he doesn’t want to detract from Eliza’s pain and make it about himself (which is something I am very conscious that many stories/ things in modern media do: use a woman’s pain to further the man’s story.) It was something I absolutely wanted to avoid, while still wanting to show that William was hurting. I think it comes across pretty well in this (maybe?)

The fact that William and Eliza hug in this section was important to me too - it was one of the first things I thought of when I was thinking about the outline to the story as a whole. They aren’t anywhere near as touchy feel-y as this in the series (that’s the Victorian era for you I suppose) but it didn’t feel right as I was writing it to not have them embrace in some way, which is why I wrote the hug and the other small gestures: William wiping the tear from Eliza’s face, kissing her forehead (I am such a sucker for this, I could write forehead kisses for ever and ever...) and giving her the handkerchief.

I just really really loved writing this section because, while William and Eliza aren’t all over each other in the show, it’s obvious that they care, and to have either one of them be standoffish in the wake of the death of someone incredibly important to them both just didn’t feel right. It’s also why I wrote in the line about them not mentioning this incident again, because they wouldn’t. They are idiots and struggle to embrace their feelings and to acknowledge what happened in this scene would probably end up being a disaster.

The little bit of humour was really important to me too - Eliza and William snark at each other all the time and it was something I felt was important to put in here. Yes, they are both devastated by the loss of Henry, but there’s no reason why they can’t try and make the other laugh, even just a little. It’s something they do a lot in the show and I felt like I did the characters some justice here with the tiny bit of sniping at each other towards the end of this section.

So, yeah, I love this section of this fic because I feel like I really got to grips with the characters, as well as writing a realistic scene that would have fit well into the series itself (possibly? I am not good at talking myself up, can you tell?)

This was also the first story of mine, as far as I know, that has ever been posted/ recommended on facebook. It was bizarre - I’m a fan of the MSatD FB page, and there weren’t too many people in the fandom at the time. I saw my own story pop up as a post and was delighted to see people liking and discussing it (not many, but enough to make me grin like a fool.) It was the first time that my real life and fandom life really crossed over and it was cool but very strange!

I have no idea if this is the type of thing you wanted anon, and I’m aware I’ve probably not done what I’ve supposed to, so I apologise if that’s the case. I just enjoyed writing this scene and I love this fandom/ pairing. It was great to get back into the fic writing game with this story and hopefully there’ll be more to come in the future!

[jaroslavlewis]

The Same Old You: Behind a Photograph

Title: The Same Old You

Chapter 1: Behind a Photograph

Author: Jaroslav Lewis

Fandom: Detective Conan

Pairing: ShinRan with slight KazuHei

Summary: Time has passed for them to believe that they have changed only for them to realize that some things haven't. Some things just don't.

Chapter Summary: She liked photographs. He never did but her habit grew on him. Now, they keep the same photograph to remind themselves of how pictures never change the same way memories don't even if people do.

Disclaimer: This is the first Chapter of the excerpt I posted last week. This contains some side/satellite characters which are my OCs. I don't own Detective Conan and any of Gosho Aoyama's characters. I simply borrow them when I'm bored.

New York, Friday, 8:00 am

He sits back, staring at the pile of case reports on top of his desk, with a mug in his hand. The bitterness of his black, morning coffee wakes him as he takes a sip. The warmth floods his whole system as he drinks. The caffeine starts to kick in and then suddenly, he feels energized and ready to start the day's work.

He takes a small bite out of his cream cheese bagel and then sets it aside together with his coffee mug. With a sigh, he takes one folder, ready to go through with the filing of case reports which he absolutely despises. Then he feels a punch on his shoulder. It doesn't hurt him but it is strong enough to make him flinch and shift his attention to whoever did it to him.

"What the fuck?!" He reacts in full straight English as he stares at the assailant who turns out to be a petite woman with brown hair, tied in a neat pony tail. She is tan, brown-eyed and wore an NYPD uniform. "What the hell's wrong with you, Jess?"

Jess then looks at him furiously with her hands on her waist.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?!" She answers back, this time taking a folder from his desk to hit him with. He raises his arms in surrender, still confused by her sudden attacks. "I can't believe you're ghosting Yejin! What's the matter with you, man?"

Then it hits him. He purses his lips together, thinking as he stares into space. Jess puts the folder back in its rightful place before casually propping her short frame up on his desk so she can sit there. He proceeds to take a file from his desk to promptly scan through it.

"I don't know…" He shrugs. "I guess she's just not it."

Jess furrows her eyebrows in both confusion and frustration.

"You only had one date with her. How could you tell?" She asks looking at him judgingly. "God, Shinichi! You're unbelievable!"

"I don't know, okay? We just didn't click. The chemistry isn't right. I'm sorry." Shinichi apologizes swiftly, brushing off the topic as he starts typing the report on his computer. Jess continues to stare at him, quizzically as if analyzing him.

"Chemistry shemistry. What do you know? You're a detective. Not a scientist! Is she not beautiful enough for you? Was she not a bombshell like I described?" She interrogates like the police officer that she is.

"She's pretty, alright…" Shinichi replies in an apathetic manner as he continues to type on his computer. The case reports suddenly seem interesting to him now.

"Then what's the matter?" Jess presses on. Shinichi then stops typing and leans back to his chair's back rest. He briefly looks at framed picture on his desk. It is a photo of himself with her at the Kiyomizu-dera in Kyoto, from ten years ago.

"Nothing." He answers. "She's great. She seems nice too. But…"

'She's just not her…'

Shinichi shakes his head, avoiding certain thoughts as he leans over his computer to type again and to start working. Jess hops off of his desk but she doesn't leave his cubicle.

"But what?" She asks curiously as she studies his uneasy manner.

"Nothing…" He repeats, avoiding Jess's gaze, hoping that she would just leave him alone but she stays. "I feel nothing…"

Jess shakes her head.

"It's a shame. Yejin was so into you. Can't see why though. You're so cold." Jess comments, teasingly. "You're hopeless. You've practically rejected and broke the hearts of all women here in New York."

"I think that's too much of an exaggeration, don't you think?" He chuckles, half-heartedly.

Suddenly a man in an adjacent cubicle peeks at them. He is in his forties with ashy-gray hair and light skin, his eyes were blue with gray undertones. He has strong features, and looks somewhat intimidating but his smile is kind.

"That's because the one he truly wants isn't in New York…" The man says, joining the conversation. He then disappears for a while as he leaves his cubicle, only to show up, approaching Shinichi's with a bag of jelly donuts which he offers to Jess who takes a piece and to Shinichi who politely declines since he suddenly feels as though he has already lost his appetite after being suddenly put on the hot seat. His bagel and coffee sit on top of his desk to grow cold while he works to get his colleagues off of his hair.

"She's someone you left in Japan. I'm thinking, that girl in the picture." He points to the picture on Shinichi's desk, deducing like a pro as if they are in an actual crime scene. Shinichi laughs with not much energy. He feels like a cornered culprit. His heart aches with nostalgia as he looks at the picture again. He stays silent, not knowing what to say. The man on the other hand has a satisfied smirk on his face. Jess gapes in awe at the deduction and at Shinichi's reaction.

"Wow, Inspector Collins, come to think of it, Shinichi has had that picture since he got here and he has never said anything about it." Jess comments. Shinichi shakes his head disapprovingly, hoping that they'd stop pestering him. He tries to remain focused on his work since he has tons to do, but the image, the memory of her keeps messing with his brain, making him lose focus. Even after ten years, she still has that effect on him.

"So who's she, Shinichi?" Inspector Collins asks. His tone is calm and more concerned and caring. "You're awfully secretive, you know."

"Nothing." Shinichi lies with bad attempt, dismissing their show of interest in his personal life. Even after a long time has passed, he still couldn't get himself to talk about her without getting hurt.

"Nothing huh? But clearly, she's important enough to have her picture sitting on your desk for years…" Jess says, shaking her head in disbelief at how bad a liar Shinichi is.

Shinichi on the other hand, says nothing. He smiles sadly as he looks at their picture together and it takes him back to when they were both so young. It had already been ten years since then, but he remembers it just as if it were yesterday. When he thinks about her, he could still remember how her frame felt against his, how she stumbled and he caught her, saving her from a bad fall. She was tall for an Asian girl but when she stood next to him, she looked like a small fragile being that he wants to protect. He remembers the way her lips felt against his cheek the first time she kissed him when they were in high school. And then everything comes rushing back, he remembers every memory they had, the good and even the bad…

"She was the one who liked taking pictures. I never did but her habit grew on me." He says fondly. He takes the frame in his hand and looks at her. He touches her image through the glass, ever so delicately. "She says she liked pictures so much because they never change, the same way memories don't even when the people in them do…"

Shinichi sighs as he places the picture back carefully in its old and permanent spot on his desk. Jess and Inspector Collins stay silent, marveled at how he has suddenly opened up to them.

"She's sentimental like that." He chuckles, remembering her adorable quirks. "Her name is Mouri Ran. She's my childhood friend and my first love…"

Tokyo, Friday, 10:00 pm

From the different side of the world, she stares at the same picture as she stands in the dim room of her new apartment. She drops her shoulder bag on her desk and she takes off her trench coat hanging it by the chair near her desk. She takes the picture in her hands before dropping exhaustedly on her neatly done single bed, while still in her day clothes.

She sighs as she looks at him, studying his half-startled, half-annoyed candid expression. She looks at how he casually wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Goosebumps creep to her skin as she remembers the feeling of him holding her protectively. She remembers his warmth, his touch and she suddenly feels a need, a deep longing for him.

She can't help but think about him still. She can't deny that she still thinks about him every day and even more after today. She wonders how could ten years pass by already, how could she have aged and changed and deep down she knows that he has already too but despite all that and although she hates to admit it to herself, she is aware that her feelings for him haven't.

It is pathetic for she has tried and tried so many times and she continues to do so but despite all her on-going attempts she still continues to fail, so many times, one "relationship" (if it ever lasted long enough to call it that), one date after the other.

Just a few moments ago she took a chance on another date but it didn't go well, at least on her part. And in a few moments, Sonoko will find out why. She groans at the thought. Sonoko is gonna freak yet again.

Then as if on cue, her smart phone rings and she reaches her pocket to answer it. She finds Sonoko's name on the screen and she groans again because she knows she has to take the call, tell her everything then she'd have to endure her long hours of scolding, lecturing her about her boring, non-existent love life.

Without much of a choice, she accepts the call and brings the phone to her ear. She never got to answer with a hello because Sonoko already starts talking.

"Ran! How was it? Did you have fun? Wasn't he great? Ah tell me everything!" She squeals ever so excitedly. Ran winces. Sonoko's gonna be so disappointed. At loss for words, she stays silent.

"Come on, Ran! Tell me! When's the second date gonna be?" Sonoko pesters impatiently after hearing no response from her friend.

"Please don't get mad…" Ran begins, begging but before she could even continue, Sonoko had already let out a gasp of disbelief.

"For the love of god, Ran! Please don't tell me you're rejecting this one again." Sonoko sighs exasperatedly.

"I'm sorry." Ran apologizes, resting her head on her pillow." It's just not gonna happen."

"But why? Is my taste in men not good enough for you? I've already set you up with a lot of great guys! I'm running out of them!" Her friend complains.

"Well, he's cute, very handsome as a matter of fact but he…" Ran struggles to find a more appropriate, less-brutal comment. "He lacks substance…:"

Ran could imagine Sonoko face-palming at this point. She couldn't help but wince to herself.

"What? Are you saying that he's dumb?" Sonoko asks

Ran stammers and mumbles some incoherent words, feeling very embarrassed at her irrational pickiness.

'And this is why you're gonna die alone.' Ran silently tells herself.

"I didn't say that but for lack of better words, yes. Yes, he kind of is." Ran replies and Sonoko groans in frustration over the line. "He refused going to the abstract art gallery nearby the restaurant because he said it would be boring to look at and that abstract art is so easy that a toddler could make them."

"So, what? He's not perfect. You're just saying that because you have a thing for smart boys!" Sonoko retorts. Ran is about to disagree when she went on rambling. "Not to mention, your great love is such a huge nerd."

Ran's face starts to heat up in embarrassment. Sonoko continues to ramble but she fails to hear her by the sound of her pulse, ringing in her ears as her thoughts drift to the other side of the world, as her thoughts drift back to the past.

Her heart skips a beat remembering his weird quirks, the way he's so passionate about things he wants to pursue, the way his eyes would light up every time he talked about Holmes or about some case he solved. Though Ran is not much of a mystery geek as he is, she'd find herself mesmerized just looking at him just being so driven and passionate. Then she smiles sadly as she thinks to herself how it is one of the reasons why she loved him so but also the main reason why she had to let him go.

"Ran, are you listening to me?" Sonoko says, making Ran snap out from her reverie.

"What?" Ran asks all of a sudden, realizing that she hasn't been paying attention to her concerned friend. Sonoko sighs for the nth time.

"I was saying maybe you're trying to look for something wrong in other guys because you can't find his traits in them…" Her friend explains and it suddenly hits her. "Come on, Ran. There's only one reason. You still haven't gotten over Shinichi even after ten years…"

"That is so not true. Ten years is a pretty long time and I've had some serious relationships after him." Ran says, but her voice sounds more like a defensive squeak rather than a well-constructed argument with conviction, as though she is trying to convince herself rather than reject Sonoko's spot-on conclusion. And it is funny because she's a respected lawyer just like her mother. But alas with such conversation, she would easily lose her composure.

"Please, Ran. Your only serious relationship after Shinichi was with Ryuji-san from college and even then you were still so guarded with him compared to when Shinichi was your boyfriend." Sonoko counters.

"Well, Ryuji turned out to be a cheater so…" Ran reasons, hoping to finally shut Sonoko up and it does for a moment until…

"True. Which takes us back to what we've been talking about earlier.-Shinichi. Call him. I thought you guys broke things off on good terms? Why are you guys cutting each other off of your lives?"

"We're not cutting each other off. We just got preoccupied with things and lost contact with each other. Remember how tough law school was for me? And Shinichi, you know him with all the cases he has to solve besides he already works for the NYPD. He's too busy now. Well, we both are. We have different priorities now."

Ran's heart aches at the thought. Sonoko did have a good point. She and Shinichi used to be so tight, like two peas in a pod. Now, it's just different. She somewhat blames herself. Maybe her mother was right after all.

Falling in love with a detective would do you no good.

And she hit the double whammy since he is also her childhood friend. Now, everything's just in the ruins.

Sonoko is about to say yet another word when a beeping sound on the line interrupted, thereby saving Ran from a longer discussion of her dreaded relationship failures.

"Call waiting. I have to take this. It could be a client." Ran explains to Sonoko and she sighs in defeat.

"Alright. But this isn't over okay? Think about it, okay?"

Ran doesn't promise Sonoko anything and takes the other line. This time she finds Kazuha's name on the screen. Her curiosity grows, she wonders what her Osakan friend could probably be up to at the hour. She hopes that it wouldn't be anything like Sonoko's call earlier.

"Kazuha-chan?" Ran asks in wonder and she hears a delightful squeal from the other end.

"Ran-chan! You would not believe what just happened!" She begins, giggling giddily and excitedly. "Heiji asked me to marry him and I said yes!"

Ran gasps and for a moment she is speechless and feeling all sorts of happy for her friend. She grabs another pillow hugs it as she rolls over her bed with a smile, trying to restrain herself from jumping up and down on it out of excitement. And then she wishes she could fly all the way to Osaka in a second to give Kazuha a big hug.

"I'm so happy for you! Congratulations, Kazuha-chan!" She says and Kazuha lets out another giddy laugh. Ran swears she could hear her blushing. If that is even possible.

"Oh my god. This is such big news! Tell me everything!" Ran demands excitedly.

"Sure! Every detail, but first thing's first…I want to ask you a very important question." Kazuha says. "How would you like to be my maid of honor?"

The question earns a cheerful squeal from Ran.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

New York, Friday, 9:00 am

Shinichi is taking a short break from his work, browsing through the newsfeed of his social media account. He looks bored until something peaks his curiosity. It is a new post from Kazuha. Since she is one of his friends he becomes so interested as he hovers his finger through the touch screen ready to press the reaction button but he reads the caption first.

I can't believe I'm marrying this ahou.

Tagged on the post is his best friend who is none other than Hattori Heiji, his fellow detective who stuck with him through thick and thin back when he encountered trouble with a huge, dangerous syndicate.

His cerulean eyes then focus below Kazuha's post and he sees two pictures. One is of Kazuha's hand with her ring finger bearing an elegant diamond ring and the other is of Kazuha and Heiji together, all smiles and right below the post were comments, one of which immediately caught his attention because of the name of the person who wrote it.

Mouri Ran: Congratulations again! Love you guys so much. Honored to be the maid of honor. Pun intended. LOL

He takes notice of how she flooded the comment with heart emojis. He finds it adorable. He unconsciously smiles and soon his mind is filled with questions. He couldn't believe it. Hattori is finally getting married and not only that, he totally beat him to it when all along, back in the day he really thought…

Suddenly his phone rings and Hattori's name and picture appears on the screen, requesting to video chat with him. Shinichi snaps out from his thoughts and smirks. Typical, Hattori. So he answers, positioning the phone at an angle in which his face could clearly be seen and then he sees Hattori's face through the screen, smiling from ear to ear.

"Not gonna lie. I was actually expecting this call, right now…" Shinichi greets him. "Congratulations, Hattori."

From the other end, Hattori scratches the back of his head sheepishly and laughs.

"Thanks, Kudo. Now that you know, I guess I'll cut to the chase." Hattori says. "Remember when you told me you owe me big time after the syndicate case? Well how about paying your end of the bargain by being my best man on my wedding day?"

"Of course. You didn't have to threaten me with my life-long debt." Shinichi chuckles. Heiji smiles triumphantly.

"Great. So, we'll see you soon?" Heiji reiterates and Shinichi nods.

"Yeah. Keep me posted when you guys think of a date so I could immediately file a leave and book a flight." He reminds strictly.

"Sure thing. Thanks again, man!"

"No problem."

Tokyo, Friday, 11:00 pm

Ran now lies in bed in her pajamas browsing through her phone smiling giddily as she looks through Heiji and Kazuha's photos together. Suddenly she feels a slight pang in her chest. It finally sinks in. Everyone's moving forward but her. Her smile fades and she feels the presence of loneliness. She shakes her head. She is not about to let such thoughts ruin such moment to celebrate her friends' milestone because she genuinely is happy for them. Although at the back of her mind she wonders, would she ever have that kind of relationship in her life? Then she realizes she isn't getting any younger.

Then a ping from her phone distracts her from wondering. She sees a notification on her social media and it opens to reveal that someone "liked" her comment and has commented right next to hers on Hattori-kun and Kazuha-chan's proposal announcement. Her eyes stays glued to the screen as soon as she sees the name and reads his text

Kudo Shinichi: Guess, I'm planning that bachelor party after all. See you soon! Best wishes from the best man.

He ends the text with a winking emoji and Ran chuckles to herself and shakes her head. It is just so typical of him.

'That subtle hint, but dramatic announcement. He still has that charm.' She thinks to herself, contemplating whether or not she should hit him up or wait for him to do so. Her lips curve into a mischievous grin as she presses the like button on his comment.

She decides to be subtle with him too.

AN: Sorry it took a while. Got a little preoccupied at work. Anyway, here's chapter one of the story. Made sudden changes as I was writing it. Originally, I planned to reveal the reason of the break up in this chapter I realized it would ruin the story flow and natural progression because I've decided to do two timelines, two perspectives in one chapter. I felt that an information overload is at risk if I'd stick through the original plan. So, I decided to reveal the past on chapter 2 instead. So stay tuned!

Feel free to tell me what you guys think as well. This would be my first time writing a chaptered fic for the DC Fandom so I'm really hoping it will turn out well. I usually just stick to one shots because I'm afraid I won't be able to commit because I've failed so many times. Hahaha

Anyway, I will be posting this fic on , AO3 (Yes! I finally have one now!) and on tumblr. So if you guys want to follow me or this story, you can pick any options for your convenience.

Fanfiction.net link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13195514/1/The-Same-Old-You AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626277/chapters/41558528

Will try to update tomorrow, if not maybe a few days later.

It's 6:56 AM here and I haven't slept. So, forgive me if there are typos and grammatical errors, not sure if I proof-read it enough since I'm sleepy. Will go through it again as soon as I get my rest. For now, hope you guys enjoy.

BTW, I've done a playlist for this fanfic. Just so, I'd be able to set the mood while I'm writing it. Tell me if you guys want to know what I listen to while writing this and if you'd like to listen to the playlist while reading it.

~J

NEXT CHAPTER

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Lumberjack AU Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader WC: 2900+

“I fucked him.” You sigh noisily over Lauren’s ecstatic squeals, sinking in your seat.

“You did what?! Oh my god, Y/N, tell me everything.”

“Dude...” You don’t know where to start, the night playing itself over and over again in your head. “It was incredible. I don’t even know how to explain it.”

“Was it romantic, or more like ‘fuck me now’?” You can hear her pacing, like she can’t sit still. Her energy trembling through the phone line.

“Romantic, I guess? He stayed with me during a mild snow storm, and I ended up on his lap-”

“How do you just end up on someone’s lap?” she demands through a laugh, continuing to call away from the receiver and into, presumably, another room. “You owe me 20 bucks, Trev. I told you she’d fuck him!”

“Wait!” You can hear scuffling, the familiar voice of Trevor growing closer. “Y/N, you fucked him?”

“I most certainly did, now pay your woman.”

She laughs, the sound of crinkled notes being handed over accompanied by a begrudging grumble. “Nah, he’s my woman now, bitch.”

“Was it at least good sex?” He doesn’t sound at all defeated, instead he’s rather eager. “Am I paying Ren Ren because you had good sex with a strapping lumberjack?”

“Does that make me a prostitute if money’s changing hands?” you ask, trying to wrap your head around his teasing.

“Someone’s a prostitute in this situation,” Lauren agrees. “It’s gotta be Trevor.”

“Why’s it gotta be me?”

“Because if you call me a prostitute I’ll kill you,” she says simply, and you can almost see her shrug.

“I’m not arguing,” he admits, leaning closer to the phone and pressing a quick kiss to Lauren’s temple. “If I’m paying you that means I’m getting laid.”

“Oh, gross,” you hurry, “not right now you’re not. I need to talk to you about the weird entity-”

He cuts you off, rushing through a quick ‘it was good talking to you i’ll see you later byeee’ before hanging up.

---

Folding your phone over in your hand, you consider your options.

Not with Ryan disappearing early in the morning, because if you’re honest, you’ve done your fair share of vanishing acts. You aren’t a child, or even a teenager, and you’ve never really been fussed about a silly game of cat and mouse. You’re not about to have your mind run in circles over a man seeing you naked, or see yourself questioning where he’s gone because, frankly, it’s none of your business.

What is your business, however, is whatever the fuck tried to get through your projection charms last night. You’ve run all the numbers, even though you’re terrible at maths, and come to the sound conclusion that every tree that’s been uprooted from the forest, frozen roots curling like agonised fingers and flung against the side of the lodge, couldn’t possibly have made the sounds.

The knocking was too consistent.

Intelligent, that might be a better word.

And besides, a tree wouldn’t leave you struggling for breath. Wouldn’t taint your body with absolute fear, every touch of the walls seeing your charms ripple with strain.

 No, it’d be pointless to argue that it was anything without a pulse.

 You do, eventually, decide that asking Ryan about it is the only option. Testing the waters and seeing where you stand, rather than diving straight into the depths of the unknown that you know not everyone is as open to accepting as Lauren, Trevor and Alfredo. Some information is better than nothing, and you make a mental note to strengthen your barriers before another night takes hold.

So instead of demanding where Ryan’s been, or prying an apology for his absence, you shoot him a quick message asking whether he’d like a drink for when you finally manage to step outside and head to work.  His response comes before you can collect your stones from the windowsill, the almost instantaneous exclamation of ‘hot chocolate!!!’ popping up in the process of crafting another message destined for Jeremy.

You swear at the way it makes your heart flutter.

---

Jon’s just as friendly as ever, chatting with the detective across the counter as Jeremy lounges in the booth he’s claimed. Warmth spills from the cafe’s windows across the street coated in ice and snow, so white that it takes on every colour splashed across it. Every step brings you close to its welcoming arms, the smell of coffee and cakes crunching underfoot like they’re compressed into one glorious scent. But the pair don’t see you, too enraptured in one another’s company, burying laughs in their cups. It’s only once you enter with the swirl of snow - of which has made short work of taking back everything the sun had thawed a day or so earlier - that they break away from each other.

“Y/N!” Jeremy greets eagerly, slipping from the booth in a stumble of limbs and a smile more comfortable than what had graced your home hours before. “Bout time you showed up.”

“It took a while to fight through the snow,” you complain, hugging him close before taking Jon into your arms. “Besides, I asked you here.”

“And here I was thinking Jeremy was here for my glorious company,” sighs Jon into your hair before drawing back, swiping the empty cup the cop had abandoned on the table.

“I’m always here for you,” Jeremy insists, following him to the register, “I swear!”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Jon laments with a fist locked in his tumbles of hair, “you’ve moved on. I can see it.”

“It’s nothing,” Jeremy rejects, looking as though he’d take the man by the collar and shake him if it weren’t for the fact that he’s now working on a second coffee. “She means nothing to me.”

“It’s true,” you confirm. “I’m an inconvenience.”

“An inconvenience!”

Jon glances over, studying Jeremy through fogged glasses before working on the milk. “I can’t take back someone that’s so mean to their friends.”

“God damn it,” he groans, mocking a glare at you.

You shrug, finally letting out the chuckle that’d been mounting since the interaction began. “My bad. I thought he’d go for it.”

Jeremy shakes his head, accepting the cup he’s offered and tossing a few coins back. “Well, I’ve always been a lost cause. Besides, Jon isn’t my type.”

“Ouch,” winces the man behind the register, looking unfazed.

“Don’t worry Jon, no one will be good enough for our dear old Inspector.” Jeremy scowls into your teasing sentiment, but you continue regardless. “Speaking of which, I wanted to ask you if I could swing by the station today and dig into some of those files.”

“Sure,” Jeremy beams, pleased to have your help. Even though you’re unfamiliar with the case, he’s eager to have another set of eyes combing through incase there’s something he’s missed. “I can bring you with me and drop you off home if you want. I’m about to head out.”

“Nah, you go on without me, I can meet you there. I’ve promised Ryan a hot chocolate.”

His face falls, mumbling his goodbyes and excuses to his feet before bolting for the exit. You watch him go, the low sulk of icy blue hair cutting the blinding snow. Out the door with an ill timed jingle and towards his car without a single bounce in his step to be found. Helpless, you attention shifts to Jon, who seems just as put out as you do. He sighs and momentarily buries a hand in his hair, pulling a face before gently removing the reusable takeaway cup from your hands and beginning to work.

“What was all that about?”

Jon doesn’t respond immediately, face squishing while he searches for the words. “Jeremy’s been having a rough time. A lot of stress in his work and personal life.”

You nod as though you understand, and in a way you do, but the fact he hasn’t spoken to you about his troubles stings when you know it shouldn’t. “Would it help if I talk to him?”

This time Jon shakes his head, sharp jerks that stop your offers of comfort in their tracks. Apologetically he smiles, frothing milk with a subtle scream. “I don’t think you being around would help the problem. It might make it worse.”

With a start your expression drops with your stomach, despair and guilt pooling around your ankles like a blanket while your vulnerable body shivers in the cold. Chewing your lip, you watch Jeremy through the window, officer finally lifting his forehead from the steering wheel and sighing with the weight of his shoulders. “It’s because I’m the problem, isn’t it? I was so excited to see him, and he was so eager I just assumed that we could be friends. I didn’t even think about the fact it could bring back bad memories-”

“No no no,” rejects Jon gently, finishing your drink before taking both of your hands in his across the counter. He bounces them, one corner of his lips pulled into a smile. “That’s not it.”

You can’t look at him, glaring at the beautiful cake display while his palms warm your fingers. “Then what’ve I done?”

“It not necessarily you,” he starts, careful with his choice of words. You look up, taking in the sincerity flooding from ocean blue eyes and the subtle quirk of his eyebrows knitting together. “It’s just, well. It’s complicated. Jeremy is interested in Ryan, and you’re kinda getting in the way of his plan.”

You didn’t think it were possible, but your stomach drops even further.

---

You don’t linger at Hay Woodworks, and that’s not because you don’t want to. The smile Ryan had thrown your way when delivering his drink was enough to make the ice encasing the town melt, and the frown that crosses his expression at your quick retreat back into the outside world even harder to deal with.

But it wasn’t these things that made it hard to stay. It’s the fact that every gust of wind rattling against the windows has you jumping when he’s around, has you waiting for the screech that clots your blood and halts your heart. The calm that inhabits his body leaves you uneasy, like the night had been nothing more that part of a routine. A regularly scheduled freight that scares the life back into someone so they can finish the week with vigor.

And it worries you. The empty ache that rattles against you ribs crying out for something in the way of answers, for him to at least acknowledge that the knocking hadn’t been normal. For Ryan to grip the tops of your shoulders and ask if you’re alright. To at least act different; shaken up or on edge. Something. Anything. But you got nothing besides the same smile that always has your heart racing.  

That’s not to say you don’t consider asking about what had happened last night. But the question that clings to your tongue remains trapped behind tight lips and a polite smile, fearful of what the answer may be. The possibility that he’ll confirm your suspicious that the howling and knocking that’d ravished the lodge hadn’t been the wind like you willed it to be.

You can’t deal with it, can’t handle the potential for ridicule for working yourself up over nothing, or idea of him telling you that something stalks through the snow storm. To save your peace of mind you leave with the question, tucking it under your tongue to keep it from spilling down your front.

It’s easier to accept his pretence of not noticing anything out of the ordinary, of not acknowledging that something had been desperate to claw their way into your home. Easier, you repeat firmly, to ignore it. Prepare, protect, but pretend that it’s merely precautionary. Pretend that every element making up your being isn’t screaming.

You’re on the path to the station in no time, following the cobblestone and stopping every now and again for the children that bolt out in front of you. You’re recognising them now, the few times you’ve seen them outside of the community garden project giving them enough courage to squeal your name as a hello while they rush about. Far too much energy for their own good, you think, waiting for a girl named Bea and her bouncing tight curls to pass in front of your knees before moving on. Enough energy that they ought to be able to share. But you don’t spare it much time, waving the group on and continuing your venture across a dusky Motbury until the worries you have surrounding Ryan fade away with the approach of the police station.

The same greeting you’ve come to expect meets your entrance, a warm gust of artificial heat and a cheery “what the fuck do you want, asshole?” from Michael. He tosses you a grin across the reception, watching you shake off the snow that’s started falling again. You hurl him the middle finger and an equally wide smile, and he beams even brighter. “You here to make a complaint?”

“Complaint?” you ask, perplexed and slightly weary.

He shrugs, still grinning. “Yeah, I imagine Ryan’s getting a little handsy at this point. I can arrest him, if you’d like.”

“On what grounds?”

“Pretty sure he cut down some trees without a permit a few years back,” Michael teases into some files he’s pretending to check, tutting and shaking his head. “He’s a menace to society.”

“The only handcuffs he’ll be in are my own,” you shoot back coyly, leaning against the desk while Michael loses himself in giggles that can only be described as those belonging to a gremlin. “I’m guessing Jeremy’s been talking about us, then?”

Michael nods, punctuating his words with a shrug. “Taking about you? He doesn’t shut the fuck up about it, and it’s not just Jeremy. The whole town practically knows you guys are gonna end up fucking. It’s kinda obvious, especially considering the way he looks at you. Not that it’s our business… unless you wanna share details. In that case, I’m all ears.”

“I’m sure you are,” you chuckle, not at all bothered by small town gossip. “Speak of the devil, where’s that little shit?”

“My little shit of a boss?” he questions, taking the widening of your smile as a confirmation. Calling over his shoulder and into the depths of the offices, you hear scuffling and a muffled yelp after his bellowing. “HEY JEREMY, THAT GIRL’S HERE FOR YOU.”  

“I have a name.”

“I know.”

It only takes a few moments of light, and eventually aggressive, banter between Michael and yourself before Jeremy stumbles into the small reception. You stop instantly, taking in the exhaustion you swear wasn’t there the last time you saw him, hair a mess of sad blue and expression so drained that you’re surprised he isn’t in a shallow grave. And although this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him so invested in his work, you know it’s getting the better of him.

He doesn’t seem to notice the pang of concern shooting through your chest, greeting you warmly and opening the door leading from the waiting rooms into the offices. Michael tosses you a shit eating grin as you pass, mumbling faintly about having a spare pair of handcuffs if you were ever to need them. You ignore him, following Jeremy and trying to keep his sleepy footsteps and slumping shoulders from bothering you. It doesn’t take long to draw to a stop, the gentle click of a door opening and a rush of cold making your hair rise, but no more so than the office itself.

The file room makes you flinch, papers stacked so haphazardly it a miracle they haven't fallen. It's painful to see the disorganisation, the cork board so jam packed that information talks over each other, and the desk drawers lined with evidence bags. And they don't contain much. A splinter of wood here and a woollen mitten there. The space screams with nerves, a tight bundle immediately forming across your shoulders and tugging incessantly at the back of your neck. You don't know we're to start, so overwhelmed that it takes Jeremy's directive hand to steer you towards the first faded brown file.

"This was the first kid that went missing," he says around a sip of cold coffee - of which you're starting to think is straight up energy drink as a substitute for sleep hidden in a takeaway cup. "And over there are all of the complaints made of knocking during the storm." He gestures to another shelf, a little more coherent this time with its coloured tags. "You're welcome here whenever you'd like. I've made sure to give you clearance with your pass. Just tell reception if you don't want bothering. Just, try not to take things home. And that doesn't mean you should live here, either."

You're nodding, drifting towards the desk and sitting. It feels... Odd. That's the best way to describe it. A feeling of routine familiarity that you haven't experienced in a long time. Still, your face doesn't give you away, the smile you offer to Jeremy seeing him return one just as bright. "Thanks J," you say, pulling the file over and opening it, "I appreciate it."

"Hey, if you can help us in anyway, I'll take it. We've got a job to do."

[whopooh]

Miss Fisher fic – written in a flash

You might have noticed there were five (or six) new short fics up on AO3 that came from word prompts? That was a flashfic challenge, set to make people write fics in a very short time, created by @olderbynow​ and @whopooh. 

We collected prompts from people and then gave them maximum four hours to write a fic for one of those prompts, by their own choice. The result was rather amazing, and it was all a lot of fun! This was a “beta run” to try the idea out, and we’ve decided to do a second, full-fledged flashfic challenge in about three weeks from now. It will be even stricter, only allowing for 2 hours writing time – and we hope you will join -- it’s open for everyone! Here is a post about the challenge!

But – back to the challenge that already was! Every person sent in three words, the writers could chose between these sets of words, and had to use all three in the fic.

@geenee27 used for her “The Hunt” the prompt “scent, clutch, Mr. Butler” to create a delightful Easter day, where Phryne is soon to have Dot and Hugh and their children over, and before that she stumbles on a deliciously dishevelled Jack in the garden shed. They manage to start something, but a small excited voice searching after her “Aunt P” results in them halting and trying to  straighten up; “The man tried to rub the dirt off the woman's nose while the woman desperately tried to tuck in his shirt and do up his trousers.”

@whopooh wrote in “A desparate need of a numismatist” for the prompt “package, numismatist, sniff”. Here, Phryne calls Jack because she “desperately” needs input from a numismatist, and Jack obliginlgy shows up. He’s secretly sad they solve the puzzle too quickly, but luckily, Mr Butler has already a steak in the oven and Phryne won’t take no for an answer.

@teaandbanjo in “How to place the blame?” used the prompt "Brilliant, orange, sweat" -- which resulted in a fun scene at Jack’s place, where Phryne has come to check on him and finds him all sweaty and annoyed because his bicycle broke down. Phryne finds a way to help out with at least one of those annoyances.

The same prompt was picked up by @ollyjayonline, resulting in “Paradise” , a very clever story where we meet a sulking Jack on an idyllic, beautiful beach, and a Phryne trying to make him come and work a case instead -- that might sound odd, but it really makes complete sense in the fic. There’s absolute top notch bantering and push-and-pull, a detective inspector being delicious in the sun, and Phryne being forced to come clear with her intentions towards that same sun-kissed man.

@omgimsarahtoo didn’t stay with one set of prompts… in the end she actually managed to include three! For her “The Heat of the Night”, there was “feline, elaborate, seek” to start with, then ”package, numismatist, sniff”, and finally “clutch, scent, Mr Butler” (no, we don’t find you crazy for using three sets of prompts, only lovely ❤︎). From these words she spun a very hot scene of love-making and intimacy, where I personally especially loved the use of the word “clutch”.

Finally, @firesign23 didn’t make it within the time frame, but later posted the poetical and atmospheric “The Honesty of Daylight” that from “mask, daylight, embrace” forms a lovely character study of Phryne, her curiosity, and her relation to people as enigmas.

It’s been great to get to read these fics, and it was really fun -- and a bit stressful -- to write on the clock. We hope more people will want to join on April the 21st!

[cheekygeek05]

The Impossible Impostor (Part 3)

Summary: Alexus King is a FBI Special Agent of the BAU who is uprooted from her home and sent to London to work for Scotland Yard. Upon arriving she quickly loses what little enthusiasm her naivety had allowed her. Turns out the British don't take too well to imposing Americans. Who knew? Kind of a Xover, mentions Criminal Minds maybe some guest appearances!

Words: 2376

Tag List Open

Previous Part

Alexus watched Sherlock leave. Maybe she had been a bit mean…After all there was no need to make enemies so soon. Though she could already feel Donovan's eyes boring into to her as she stomped out. At least she had Greg. Speaking of which, where'd he swan off to? Walking outside she found him talking to Sherlock looking quite exasperated. This man must have the patience of a saint. Alexus thought to herself, as she approached them.

"Gentlemen." Alexus greeted.

"Alexus I was just going to see if you were ready to go." Lestrade responded.

"Whenever you are toots." She answered accompanied with a smile.

"Are you accustomed to speaking to near strangers with such familiarity, or is that is reserved for a special few?" Sherlock grunted.

"Aww. Sweetie all you have to do is ask, I'll be happy be flirt with you. Just don't go falling in love with me because I have no intention of following through." This was said with her most flirtatious wink she could manage. She was pleased to see his composure shift, becoming a bit more flustered.

"Please stop embarrassing yourself." He retorted.

"Oh love, I'm not the one blushing. It's getting cold, how bout we take off?" Alexus turned to the DI who was currently staring, surprised at his new partner's boldness.

"Oh yes. Of course." Lestrade said offering her his arm. He didn't miss the snort that escaped Sherlock.

Taking his arm, she began her walk back to the car. Smiling to herself. Alexus was starting to think she would be alright after all. She would still miss her old job and team, but she could see herself enjoying her time here. She would most enjoy the game she had started with the obnoxious Sherlock Holmes.

"You were fantastic earlier." Lestrade complimented once they reached the car.

"Thanks. I was taught well. I'm afraid not everyone was as impressed as you."

"You just have to give them time to get use to you. They will, fairly quickly once you prove you're nothing like everyone's favorite consulting detective."

"I'm just used to saying whatever I see. Back home that's what we did. We said what we saw and waited for our team mates to see something we didn't. That's why we were so good, everyone contributed. All-stars sell tickets, teams win games." Alexus quoted her mentor since childhood. He had told her that when she joined the team and it never left her.

"Unless the all-star is Sherlock Holmes." Lestrade scoffed

Alexus smiled although she completely disagreed. Her team could beat Sherlock. No question. She could see Lestrade cared for Sherlock. She admired him for that. She was quickly coming to realize there was a lot she admired about this man. Maybe being partners wasn't such a grand idea. She could easily see herself liking him. She looked at him again. He had such a kind face. Worn and weathered, but kind. He looked over at her and smiled.

"Eyes front soldier." She teased grinning.

"So, did you always want to be a detective?" Greg asked once the laughter died down.

Alexus was surprised by the question. Her childhood was not something she enjoyed discussing. She wasn't sure how to answer. He apparently noticed her hesitation. He quickly added.

"Because I have since I can remember. There was a two-year period where all l wanted to be was 18." Chuckling nervously after.

Bless him.

"Really? I can't imagine you as anything else."

"Oi give me a chance here I'm not completely two-dimensional!"

"That's not at all what I meant. All my favorite people in the world are law enforcement." Alexus' mind went back to her team. She had some phone calls to make when she got back to her place.

Lestrade pulled up to her place and stopped the car.

"I know it's not exactly home, and I'm not your team. If you ever need anything you can tell me. I mean it."

"Thank you." Alexus' only reply before exiting the car and walking to her door. She waved one final goodbye to her favorite Detective Inspector.

i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i

Alexus put water on the stove. She had already tried the whole English tea thing but decided it wasn't her thing. She had discovered long ago, the best thing in the world for just about anything was a steaming cup of hot coco with whipped cream and marshmallows. After everything was ready she picked up her phone and played phone roulette.

"Hey! How's my girl?" Of course she would get Derek.

"Oh, you know just the normal, corpses, blood, murder, sociopath and hostile coworkers. You?"

"I thought you didn't start till tomorrow."

"Yeah my boss called and asked if I wanted to start early he'd just gotten called in for a case. It went pretty well." Alexus let it end there.

"You can't hide things from me baby girl. What's wrong?"

"It's just different. It seems they're not close like us. They just all seem to wander and do their own thing. It's strange. Then there's this guy who calls himself a consulting detective. He actually seems like fun."

"And by fun you mean?"

"Not like that. He just seems really uptight and callous. I definitely am looking forward to messing with him."

"Be careful sweetheart don't be cruel." Morgan couldn't help the smirk he wore. He knew his girl, she could be quite the heartbreaker.

"Yeah, yeah. Trust me he's in no danger of that. He'd first have to acknowledge someone other than himself. Lord knows that'll never happen."

"So, I'm bored and now more than a little interested. Tell me about it."

"What?"

"Everything. Start with this guy. Talk me to sleep baby."

"Alright. Well he's your typical smartass. He tried to profile me. He said I going off my age I was inexperienced and therefore less than incompetent for my position. He then insulted my clothes saying they meant I didn't take my job seriously. Luckily, I'm good enough to feel I don't have to prove it so I ignored him for the time being. It took everything in me not to profile him right then and there. It was really amusing though, seeing his face when I completely disregarded him. I guess he's used to get a reaction. Probably why he does it. Wait I almost started a profile."

"You know what I said earlier, about taking it easy one him?"

"Yes?"

"Give 'em hell baby girl!"

Alexus couldn't help but laugh. God, she loved this man.

"Will do. So how are my favorite profilers?"

"They're good. It's weird not having you though. Hotch called on you several times yesterday. He even told Reid to go to the crime scene with you. It was awkward. He misses you. We all do. Spence refused to let anyone in your room. He's decided it stays exactly the same for when you come back. He's pretty down about the whole thing."

"So am I, trust me. You have no idea how empty this place feels. I'm going to see if anyone needs a roommate. Or whatever it is they call it here. It's so quiet I'm pretty sure I'm going to go crazy. Besides rent is insanely high here it's just not practical to live one my own."

"The rent is too damn high!" Derek declared, doing his best Jimmy McMillan impression.

The two friends burst into laughter.

"Derek Morgan I am going to miss having you here like it's nobody's business!"

"I already miss you like it's no one's business baby girl."

Just then there was a knock on Alexus' door.

"Hey Derek there's someone at my door. I just texted you a number to call if you hear trouble ok?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah it's just nobody but my partner Lestrade knows where I live. Did you get the number?"

"Got it ready."

"Alright I'm gonna answer it."

Alexus went to the door, revolver in tucked away on her person.

"Sherlock?"

"Obviously!" Sherlock replied dryly. Walking in completely uninvited.

Sherlock pranced around the house looking for anything clues to help in his quest. While Alexus couldn't seem to fully comprehend what had just happened.

"It's very rude to remain on the phone when receiving company." He reprimanded.

That was all it took for Alexus to snap out of her momentary shock.

"Good thing I'm not receiving company tonight." She said grabbing him by the arm and dragging him towards the door. Where she quickly pushed him out, shut and locked it.

"That was weird…" She finally said.

"Who was it?" Derek asked expectantly.

"Oh shut up you heard the whole thing. I put you on speaker just in case."

"How?"

"No idea."

"What?"

"I got nothing."

"Why?"

"Drawing blanks here." She answered, pondering the same questions. "Anyways. Is Garcia there?"

"Do you think I could keep the fact I'm on the phone with you from her?"

"Spence?"

"They went to seem some local production."

"What language?" Knowing Dr. Spencer Reid was involved, said production would probably be in a foreign language.

"Russian. I'll never understand why you went with him to that stuff."

"He didn't like to go alone. Once I started going he went more often. He deserves to enjoy himself."

"Uhuh…right. And that's the only reason right?" Morgan asked smiling.

"Listen here seniorita! We have flushed that topic out,"

"Says you,"

Alexus could almost picture him sticking out his tongue at this point. She couldn't help but grin at that. She must have looked ridiculous sitting on her kitchen counter drinking hot coco and smiling all by herself. The thought made her smile grow wider. She looked over to her left and noticed a red light flashing on her mantle place. She wouldn't have seen it from any other angle. Oh that mother of a camel!

"Listen babe, I gotta go and take care of some stuff." Or shank someone. It could go either way.

"Alright. You all good?" He asked concern leaking into his voice.

"As John Wayne in a western."

Morgan laughed at that.

"Goodnight then baby girl!"

"Goodnight. Kisses to all my lovelies. Tell Hotch hi and I'll call him soon."

"Will do. Peace"

"Peace."

With that she ended the call, grabbed the bug from the mantel piece and stalked to her door. Opening her door, she found none other than Sherlock on the curb with headphones. Alexus walked over ripped them out of his ears and dragged him into her apartment.

"Rule #1. Don't mess with me when I'm happy."

Sherlock looked at confusedly. Not understanding her meaning.

"I won't always be able to call home and when I can, I don't want to be interrupted for petty games!" She said losing her will to be angry but having no intention of letting him know that.

"The next words out your mouth better be an apology followed impossibly quickly with an explanation."

Sherlock was not one to back down from confrontation, but the on her eyes told him she wasn't fooling around. So, he tried his very best to find a happy medium. Okay maybe happy was stretching it. A satisfactory medium.

"I want-"

At which point he was interrupted. Rude!

"Apology first."

"I apologize if I scared you." He said hoping that would suffice." By the glare he was receiving he imagined it wasn't. "And for unwittingly interrupting your phone call."

She had better be happy with that because there was no way in hell he was going to give her anything else.

"Apology accepted. It needs work, but it'll have to do for now."

Sherlock was beyond himself. This woman is impossible!

"Now for that explanation."

"I wanted to ask you if there was anything I could do to help you settle in to London. I know this place better than anyone."

"And where does the bugging my apartment factor in to 'helping me settle in'?"

"I…" Sherlock faded out not knowing how to get out of that one. "How did you find it anyway?" genuinely curious. He made sure and put it somewhere she would never see it.

Alexus was not about to admit it was completely luck. She didn't want to risk him trying it again.

"Come on sweet cheeks. What's a girl without her secrets?" She said leaning into his personal space. Completely aware of the discomfort it caused and loving the blush that came with it. "I'll tell you. Boring."

Sherlock grunted. This was not at all going how he imagined.

"So now that you're here let me be clear on one thing. Bugging my apartment, never going to happen again. Capiche?" She said, for it was in no way a question. "If you want to know anything about me you can ask me or observe it. Bugging is cheating. Cheating means you're incapable. Are you incapable Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock did not like her implication at all. He was completely capable. He wouldn't, for one minute, have her believing otherwise. So, he did the only he could think to do.

"You will find there is nothing I am not capable of." His answer assertive and much too sure of itself.

"I'm glad we're clear. Now the sirens who inhabit my bed are singing a song that is much too beautiful for me to ignore. Are you planning to stay the night or will you be showing yourself out?"

Sherlock considered taking her up on her invitation, if only to snoop. John would tell him to leave. No question. Then again, when did he ever listen to John? He looked up and saw a question in her eyes. He saw a lot more to her question than he first thought. Maybe John was right.

"I can show myself out." Sherlock turned to leave hoping he had made the right choice. Before he got far he felt her pull him back. She gave him a hug, kissed her hand and hit his forehead with the same hand. He had no idea what that meant, but it made him want to smile all the same. Luckily he still maintained some of his senses, with which, he held it back. Just barely.

"Goodnight Mr. Holmes." Before he could respond she was gone.

Oh, the game is, most definitely, on!

[its-bits-and-pieces]

Past and present merge, part 2

Part 1

(Y/n) was grateful that Moriarty didn’t pick a very secluded factory for his game, after fifteen minutes of running she found an open pub, it looked like a dump, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t there to have a great time with friends she just wanted to drink her mind away.

Meanwhile Sherlock was giving explanations to Lestrade, talking as fast as he was able to, eager to finish and go in the search for (Y/n).

He ended his monologue and he was getting ready to leave, but Lestrade wasn’t having any of it. He was in a very sour mood and he was refusing to continue the leniency with which he always treated Sherlock up until that moment.

“You’re not going anywhere Sherlock. This time you’ll stay and give me all the information. There are three dead men in there, for God’s sake!” Lestrade raised his voice, looking peeved.

“I just did. Do try to keep up, Detective Inspector, it really isn’t that complicated. Moriarty kidnapped me, (Y/n) and her father, brought us here, had two snipers aiming at me and at (Y/n)’s father, made her chose who to shoot from the two of us, she shot the snipers instead, not fast enough to stop one of them from shooting her father. What’s so hard to comprehend?” Sherlock repeated his explanation, his voice sounding bored and annoyed.

“Why would Moriarty do this? Why did he chose (Y/n)’s father? And more importantly, where is she?” Lestrade fired his questions, afraid maybe that he would forget them or that Sherlock might just vanish in thin air before he would be able to get some answers.

“I would know if you would stop being such an idiot and you would let me go and find her. You’ll get the details tomorrow morning. Scouts honour.” Sherlock gave him a false smile while giving the scout boys salute.

Sherlock didn’t wait for Lestrade’s confirmation, he swished passed him, his coat floating behind him like the cape of a superhero. He got his phone out from his pocket typing franticly, he was looking for the closest pubs that he could find, knowing that (Y/n) would chose the first one she would find. The only problem was that he didn’t know which way she went. He stopped his fast paced walk and turned on the spot, looking for a clue, but there was nothing. No shoe marks, there was no rain in the last days so there was no mud, no car tracks which didn’t matter because she was on foot and he was certain that she literally ran. The state she was in would make her take rash decisions she wouldn’t have called a cab. Also if she would have, he would have got to her before she would have left. ‘John chose the worst time to visit his sister.’ Sherlock thought. He would have to go in every pub that was close to the factory, so he decided to go in a clock wise order.

(Y/n) was already at her fourth shot of tequila after having drank two shots of vodka. She knew that was going to get her drunk fast, in the past she did that by mistake, big mistake considering that she woke up in the bed of a complete stranger. This time she didn’t care where she would wake up or even if she would wake up all together. She was broken, she felt pain in her chest, like there was a claw that was squeezing the air from her lungs, her stomach hurt and so did her head. She wasn’t even sure how was she able to hold back her tears, because she wasn’t crying, she even checked by patting her cheeks to see if they were wet.

(Y/n) ordered another shot of tequila when a man sat next to her at the counter.

“Hey! I saw you from across the room. Would it be ok if I join you?” the man asked, smiling at her charmingly.

“Sure if you don’t mind having a drink with a fucked up individual, why not!” (Y/n) answered him and took another taste of the fiery liquid.

“We’re all fucked up one way or another, aren’t we?!” The man responded with a light chuckle.

“Believe me when I tell you, you never met someone as fucked up as me. But hey, it’s all fine since the only reason you’re here talking to me is that you want to shag me. You don’t give a shit about my mental state, that has no importance to your final goal. There have been studies that showed that men would put up with a crazy woman as long she is hot. I think they used more words to describe that study, but my lexicon is reduced by the amount of tequila I ingested.”

“I don’t want to sound like a total dick, but yes, you’re right, I did come here because I find you attractive.” Another sly smile thrown her way accompanied this time by a very suggestive wink.

“I know. You think I’m a ten, considering that you’re still here after all that I’ve told you. Well, you’re in luck, I’m in such a horrible moment in my life and in such a state of ebriety that I’ll probably shag you even though I don’t find you attractive or interesting in any way. But you don’t care about that do you?” she replied finishing her drink.

The man laughed and drained his glass, before answering “No, I really don’t. Should we go then?”

(Y/n) got up from the chair losing her balance for a moment, but the man that was chatting her up, slithered his hand around her waist, using her weakness in his advantage and steering her towards the exit. But their short travel to the door was blocked by a tall man that was glaring at them. Sherlock looked menacing and he seemed even taller than usual, at least that’s how (Y/n) saw him.

“Thanks for your help, I take it from here”, he said reaching for (Y/n)’s arm, fishing her out from the hands of this bloke.

“Hey, get your own! She’s with me!” the man answered plunging after (Y/n), but she was getting sick, she knew that she’ll puke soon and didn’t feel like hooking up anymore, so she made a step back closer to Sherlock and shaking her head she said “Sorry, I don’t feel like it anymore. But that is luck for you, now you have it, the next second it’s gone. If you excuse me I’m going to throw up in that bin over there!” she finished pointing outside to a bin.

She didn’t wait for any of them to respond, she turned on her heels and darted outside, pushing people aside, feeling her mouth getting full of saliva and her stomach making upwards movements. She barely made it to the bin when all the contents of her stomach overflowed from her mouth, leaving a horrible after taste.

When she straitened herself up, a hand offered her a bottle of water, that she took. She drank and washed her face, lifting her eyes and meeting Sherlock’s blue, cold gaze. She tried to give him a thankful smile, but she felt like she couldn’t actually coordinate her face muscles correctly and she doubted that he could actually see the thank you message on her face.

They were soon in the back of a cab heading to Baker Street. Sherlock was quiet, he was looking outside the window, seeming upset. But in reality he didn’t know what to say.

This wasn’t his area of expertise, he wasn’t good at comforting people. In any other situation he wouldn’t even care, but in (Y/n)’s case he wished to know what to say. He wished to be able to make her feel better, to make the pain in her eyes go away, and the usual brightness that was there to take back it’s place. It was paining him to see her so broken, especially that in the year he has known her she was always lively, she always made jokes and sarcastic comments, she always was able to laugh even in the most difficult situations.

She seemed a rock, not like him or his brother, because she cared and she showed that she cared, but in the way that nothing seemed to faze her, she seemed so powerful, so strong in the face of danger and adversity, she gave the impression that she was able to bounce back from anything life through at her. But know, in this moment, that (Y/n) seemed to have died. Sherlock glanced at her and he didn’t see the strong and diligent woman that he knew, he saw a child, small and frail, scared and confused, even physically she looked smaller than usual. He’s train of thoughts was broken by her sudden sobs, he tensed and cussed John for the hundredth time that day for not being there. John would have known what to do, he would have hugged her and hold her, he would have told her that everything will be ok. That’s when it hit him. He could do the same, do what John would do. That should work.

Sherlock swallowed the lump in his throat and moved closer to (Y/n) encompassing her in his arms, bringing her to his chest. (Y/n) went with the movement, she didn’t put up a fight she grabbed his coat in her fists and leaned into him shaking even harder with every sob that escaped her lips.

“Why didn’t he love me, Sherlock? Why did my own father let me believe he was dead for so many years? Why didn’t he love me?” (Y/n) asked her words coming out in between sobs.

What on earth could he answer to this. He didn’t know why her father faked his death fourteen years ago, why he all of the sudden decided to disappear. Yes, the man was an intelligence agent for MI6 and he’s life wasn’t one that lacked danger, but why he made the choice of leaving his fourteen year old daughter behind was a mistery. He couldn’t find any valid answer, especially that he knew that (Y/n)’s father was keeping tabs on her which meant that he knew that his daughter started doing drugs after his ‘death’ and that she overdosed when she was sixteen; he knew that she was in a coma for months and that her mother left to make herself a new life far away from her comatose daughter. The man was a monster, that’s why, but he couldn’t tell her that.

“I don’t know.” He answered, rubbing her back and kissing the top of her head.

“I adored him. He was my hero and my model. Why did he even spend so much time teaching me everything he knew and training me if he was going to leave me behind? Why do people always leave? Why is everybody in my life so keen in leaving me without even an explanation? Why don’t they have the guts to just tell me they’re leaving? They just disappear, like they were never there. But they were, because there’s always a hole left behind and I can’t seem to be able to fill that hole. I’m so tired, I’m done with it. I’m done with life and all that’s in it.” A sense of finality reverberated from her words, stopping her sobs and the fall of her tears.

(Y/n) got up from Sherlock’s arms and wiped away her face “I ruined your shirt. I’m sorry about that. I’ll buy you another one, I promise!” she said seeing the smudges of make up that were all over his white shirt.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Sherlock answered, waving his hand as to wave the problem away.

“I’m buying you another one.” (Y/n) insisted like that was the most important thing to do, like that action was her purpose in life.

“(Y/n) stop it with the shirt.” He responded, not quite understanding her sudden obsession.

“Let me to buy you another bloody shirt!” she raised her voice, making the cabbie throw a glance in his rear view mirror at them.

“Fine! Calm down! There’s no need to shout!”

“Where are we?” she changed the topic, not because she wanted to avoid a fight, but because she just realized that it wasn’t the normal route to her house.

“Almost there.”

“Almost there, where?”

“Baker Street.”

“I don’t leave there. I’m going home.”

“I’m not leaving you by yourself in this state. You’re coming to my flat. John will get back tomorrow and he’ll be able to have a look at you.” Sherlock reasoned.

“I’m not sick. I don’t need a doctor. I’m fine!”, but her voice gave her away, she didn’t believe her own words and that carried through.

“Either way!” Sherlock stopped talking, (Y/n) wasn’t paying attention anymore, it seemed that she didn’t feel the need to fight him on the decision he made for her. It wasn’t a good sign, she gave up and it made Sherlock to be twice more attentive to her, he would have to look over her the whole night, because it seemed that she already reached a resolution regarding her future and the signs all pointed towards self-destruction.

It was going to be a long night.

[angelicsentinel]

the case of valentine

the suffering of fools | the case of christmas

Shinichi’s curled up on the sofa with a sore throat, a stuffy head, and his tablet.  A particularly virulent strain of the flu has his head pounding and his entire body aching, and no amount of medicine seems to cut through it.

He had the sniffles yesterday and hadn't thought anything of it, just that the dry heat was aggravating his sinuses.

This morning he was fine; enough for him to stop by the office and pick up a missing persons request from a worried mother who'd gone to him after the police told her there was nothing they could do for her daughter, seeing as how it she was an adult and had been missing for only twelve hours.

Supposedly.

Someone else had written her texts and a social media post; she'd been gone a lot longer.

He'd found her just in time, tied up and locked in a trunk and suffering from severe dehydration, the car having been abandoned off road in the middle of the Mojave.

He didn't get people sometimes, how they could do such things to each other. Not that he didn't understand why on an intellectual level, because he did, he knew well the things that motivated people to murder, it was just—Shinichi felt things, all right, and strongly. Helplessness. Anger. Jealousy. Fear. Hate. Pain. But he could never tie someone up, stuff a gag in their mouth, and leave them like that to die. It was more than attempted murder, it was cruel.

And it makes him wonder. Whoever had done it had been good at hiding the evidence. Shinichi had hated looking into her eyes, the eyes of her mother, and telling them he didn't know who had done it. There just wasn't enough evidence.

It doesn't mean he isn't going to try. Technically, he has no business investigating it. The LVPD aren't too thrilled with a upstart foreigner “playing” detective, but Shinichi is honestly not too thrilled with Major Crimes at the moment either.

Because there's a pattern. The UNLV student isn't the first woman to be stranded in the desert. And pattern almost always means serial killer. Two, maybe, he's not sure yet. An accomplice, someone to drive the other car. And he hates it because if they are a serial killer, he might have to wait until they strike again and that's almost unbearable.

Some detail he's missed...

He coughs hard, then finds out the antiemetic he took doesn't work as well as it should as the nausea overwhelms him and he retches into a bucket placed beside the couch for just that purpose.

Gross. So gross.

He falls back to the sofa. He doesn't have time to be sick. He needs to be on location or looking at the evidence or something. The Captain at least listens to him in the way that Inspector Megure always did, even if he technically shouldn't.

The door opens, and Kaito comes barrelling in to the sitting room. “Oh, Shinichi~” he says, singing the syllables of his name. He's dressed in a nice suit, and he's at least attempted to tame his hair. He has a large bouquet of roses with him. “I hope you're ready for—”

Shinichi blinks, feeling like he's forgotten something. He knows he has all the necessary clues, but he can't quite put it together. It's not the roses, Kaito brings him roses all the time. But he normally wears white tie to work, and he's in dressed down in black tie today.

He coughs again. “Kaito,” he croaks in response, sitting up—or trying to, his stomach hurts from all the vomiting he's been doing, and he falls back before he can quite manage it, dizzy.

“Shinichi?” he says again, this time questioning, and it's all Shinichi can do to raise his arm over the back of the couch in acknowledgement.

Kaito sets the roses down on a side table, and then leans over the back, examining him. Shinichi knows what he sees. Shinichi’s eyes are bloodshot, and his skin is translucent, almost, his hair almost as tangled as Kaito’s own. His shirt’s a mess; the buttons are mismatched from where he'd had to take it off at the physician's, leaving the collar to push into his chin, and his crumpled slacks bunch at the legs. He just hasn’t felt up to fixing it, not when he can barely move as it is.

“Well, you look awful,” Kaito declares.

“Thanks, I hadn't noticed,” Shinichi says, picking at his shirt. “You look good.” And he does in his tailored black suit, splash of red in cummerbund and tie.

Shinichi, in grimy clothes with greasy unwashed hair, feels like trash in comparison.

“You misunderstand me. As devilishly handsome as you are, you looked healthy this morning,” Kaito accuses, perching on the back of the sofa, trailing his bare foot across Shinichi's leg in a comforting touch.

“Yeah, it came on quickly. Flu,” Shinchi says, and then he sneezes into his handkerchief, and it rocks the whole couch.

Kaito watches as Shinichi curls into himself, shivering, and he procures a blanket, slides down next to him and wraps it around him with one hand, texting with the other.

Then he leans over and kisses the corner of his mouth, and Shinichi jerks back, pushing him away. “Don't do that! Do you want to get sick, stupid?”

“I've had my shot,” Kaito says, pouting.

“That doesn't mean anything! So have I,” Shinichi says. “I don't have time for this. I need to be out doing legwork, and you can't get sick either, with your schedule.”

“Case that bad?” Kaito asks.

“Worse,” Shinichi says, and Kaito finds his hand, lacing their fingers together. He runs his thumb over Shinichi's gold sapphire band.

“I'm sorry,” he says quietly.

“It's nowhere near your fault. It’s just—people,” Shinichi says, bewildered. “I don't get it.”

“Have you eaten anything today?” Kaito asks.

“No, I've been too busy. Didn't think I could keep anything down,” Shinichi says.

“That won't do,” Kaito says, and he tucks the blanket around him, kissing him again on the cheek. Shinichi thinks about scolding him again, and then realizes that he'll regret it once he gets sick, and that will be punishment enough.

Kaito stands, heading to the kitchen, and Shinichi hears the sound of shifting rice and running water, and by the location of his soft steps, he's near the rice cooker.

Is Kaito making okayu? Shinichi really doesn't feel like having that either, he's not that sick. “I've been keeping myself hydrated!” he calls.

“Not good enough!” Kaito calls back cheerily.

Shinichi hears the sound of a microwave, and then the sound of popping corn. Though by the metallic echoes, it sounds like he's popping it in a stock pot.

After a few minutes, Shinichi looks over at the sound of footsteps to see Kaito carrying a big mixing bowl of popcorn back to the room on a tray with some hot yuzu honey tea, by the smell.

Kaito sets it on the coffee table, and Shinichi notes with some amusement it's the pair of  mugs emblazoned with the caricatures of Sugarlock Holmes and Jam Moriartea. As their names suggest, Sugarlock is a deerstalker wearing sugar cube with a pipe, while Moriartea is a cup of jam tea with angry eyebrows.

Kaito takes the Moriartea mug for himself. Shinichi's sure that's why he bought the set of them, even though they were ostensibly a gift for Shinichi.

He's also found time to change into an old shirt of Shinichi's and some sweats. Shinichi squints, and he recognizes them as the clothes Kaito keeps squirreled away in the pantry. That was more impressive before Shinichi learned how he did it.

Shinichi keeps finding clothes everywhere. In the strangest of places. Nowhere is safe. Not even his office. Or the diner that has become their diner.   

“So, what's on tonight?” Kaito asks as he sits beside Shinichi, handing him the other mug of tea and cuddling into his side, uncaring about Shinichi's germs. He places a piece of popcorn in Shinichi’s mouth. It's matcha popcorn drizzled with chocolate. Huh. That’s a bit ritzier than Kaito usually prepares his snack fare. Shinichi’s nauseated, but it tastes great.

Shinichi wonders what the occasion is as Kaito turns on the television.

“Some old film,” Shinichi says, gesturing an arm at the black and white screen. He doesn't recognize it. He wraps an arm around Kaito and pulls him closer. He sips from his mug. The hot tea feels wonderful to his irritated throat.

Kaito hmms, and feeds him another piece of popcorn.

Shinichi doesn't feel like watching anything, really, but Kaito seems determined to have a movie night, so who is Shinichi to argue?

Kaito pokes at Shinichi's stomach, making him squirm and shift. “What was that for?” Shinichi asks as Kaito snuggles closer to him.

“For getting you to share the blanket,” Kaito says, and sure enough, he's wrapped it farther around himself. He's plastered against Shinichi's side, his warmth seeping down to Shinichi's bones, and it's the first time he's felt anywhere close to good all day.

“You're going to regret getting close, you know,” Shinichi says as Kaito eats a piece with the same hand he's been using to feed Shinichi.

“Haven't yet~” Kaito says.

And okay, the implication makes Shinichi blush, but he looks away and says, “Sure, you say that now, but just wait.”

“Even if I do get sick, I know you'll be right here with me,” Kaito says, squeezing his hand.

Shinichi's heart melts. He groans.

“What?” Kaito says.

“You're so corny. How are you even real?” Shinichi asks, right hand covering his face as his fevered blush deepens. He can’t help it.

“Hey! I'm trying to have a heartfelt moment here!” Kaito says, pouting again.

Shinichi throws a piece of popcorn at him. “Like I said, corny,” Shinichi says.

“Oh, like you're any better,” Kaito says, picking it up and popping it into his mouth before flicking another piece at Shinichi.

He catches it with his mouth, and then stills, dizzy from the quick movement.

Kaito's phone dings. Shinichi glances over to see Kaito firing off a rapid series of texts with a lot of emojis.

“Aoko?” Shinichi asks.

Kaito shakes his head. “Miguel sent me a picture of them, don't they look adorable?”

Kaito’s jeweler friend and his wife are pressed together, the photo having been taken by a third party. They're both dressed to the nines. The caption underneath says, “Thank you for dinner <3”

“‘Thank you for dinner?’” Shinichi repeats, uncomprehending, then he jerks up, nearly spilling his hot tea all over himself. Sugarlock Holmes looks at him disapprovingly from his mug. Shinichi must be really out of it if he’s imagining the artwork on his cup judging him for how long it has taken him to figure it out. Kaito dressed outside of his work norms. The bouquet. The green tea and chocolate popcorn. The chocolate that Kaito had indirectly given him.

“It's Valentine's Day,” Shinichi says, and groans again, falling back against the couch, elbow over his eyes. “Those reservations were originally for us, weren’t they?”

“...Maybe?” Kaito says.

Shinichi raises his head and narrows his eyes. He’s acting cagey. “What else are you hiding?”

“Don’t look out front?” Kaito says, hands up.

So of course Shinichi sets his mug down and stands, wobbling, stalking over to the front door and throwing it open. A giant red bow sits on top of a gleaming black tourer. “You bought me a Benz,” Shinichi says in disbelief. “A 1955 Mercedes-Benz 300 SL. A gullwing.” He turns on his heel, rubbing at his temples. “Kaito. Stop buying me cars. The Phantom was enough.”

“It’s not American,” Kaito says, trying to defend himself. “And you bought me a giant stuffed bear!”

That’s his argument? “A bear is not even close to—” His head is spinning. He feels faint. “It’s not a competition.”

“You’re not going to faint on me, are you?” Kaito asks. His voice is flippant, but his brow is furrowed in worry, and he moves closer as if to catch him should he fall.

Shinichi steps out of his reach, lets out a jumbled vocalization of something, takes a deep breath, and then says, “...No. Do I even want to know how much it cost?” Low production numbers, sought out by a lot of collectors...Shinichi imagines it’s high.

Kaito shifts. “I had it checked before I let the money transfer. It’s authentic!” He looks a little pale, though. Anxious. Like he’s worried about Shinichi’s reaction.

It doesn’t answer Shinichi’s question, but he doesn’t want to think about it right now. “You don’t—” He takes another deep breath. “You don’t have to buy me, Kaito, or get me things out of obligation. I’m here to stay.”

“It's not obligation! You like classic cars, though. Old ones,” Kaito says, rambling. “And I—I just thought you might like it. And I like the way your eyes light up when you see them, and when we go driving together with the windows down, and how you talk about them. I can’t help you with your detective work, not really, not as I am now with people so aware of me, and in fact, I know my fame makes it worse, but I thought that this...this I could help with, you know? This I can do.”

Like the mansion and the premium office space and the Rolls-Royce weren’t enough, though Shinichi is sure Kaito bought him the Phantom solely because of the name. He knows that because Kaito also owns a Honda Shadow Phantom even though he prefers sports bikes over cruisers.

Shinichi takes a step forward, lets his head fall and thunk on Kaito’s shoulder. “Thank you. Idiot,” he mumbles, tired.

“Your idiot, though,” Kaito says, his arms coming up to embrace Shinichi.

“Yeah.” Shinichi says, closing the gap. A long pause, his head still down on Kaito’s shoulder. A fancy dinner to make up for forgetting about Christmas. “My idiot.”  Something grand and over-the-top for Shinichi because Shinichi had gotten Kaito something of the like.

Well, Shinichi would just show him on White Day.  Before that, though…

Shinichi pads over to the table at the entryway, pulling out a long, thin black box with a red ribbon.

“For, uh, today.”

“I thought you forgot?” Kaito asks.

“...No? I mean I forgot it was today, yeah, but I didn't forget forget. I had this made a while back,” Shinichi says. It isn't like there are set rules to this, or that either one of them is the “woman” in the relationship (they're both men, that's kind of the point), so he'd been planning all along to give him something today, their first true Valentine’s Day together. It’s nice that Kaito thinks the same, really, and isn’t insecure about it either.

Kaito takes it, unties the ribbon, pulls it open. “It's pretty,” he says, running his finger over it. It's a moonstone cabochon pendant, the stone cradled by a pair of silver doves in flight. It's not on a chain but on a thick leather cord, and the adularescence makes it gleam in the late afternoon light. “Thank you, Shinichi. It's nice.”

Shinichi scratches his cheek. “Sorry for ruining your dinner plans,” Shinichi says for lack of anything better.

“If you really want to apologize, you can get better quickly,” Kaito says. “Which means lots of rest, so move it,” he says, tugging at him. “Come on, back to the sofa. Your dinner will be ready in an hour.”

“You’re being dangerously domestic,” Shinichi muses as he lets Kaito manhandle him.

“Nope!” Kaito beams. “My motivation is entirely self-serving. I can't have my Valentine Shinichi cuddles if my Shinichi isn't here to cuddle, now can?” He tucks the blanket around him, retrieves Shinichi’s mug, tsks at the temperature, and goes to prepare him more tea.

But Shinichi is already feeling much better, smiling fondly at his back. Oh, he still needs to work on that case, his head still aches, the room’s still spinning, he’s still nauseous, and he’s sure even with his medicine it will be several days before he feels better, but it’s nice to have Kaito taking care of him like this. And when Kaito inevitably gets sick in a few days because he has no sense, Shinichi will gladly return the favor.

But for now, he lets Kaito fuss over him, and thinks about the marked changes since Kaito came back into his life—he’s fiercely glad that Kaito came back into his life at the bar that night. Shinichi doesn’t think he can imagine a life without him anymore.

“What are you smiling about?” Kaito asks him, handing him another steaming mug as he sits beside him.

“Nothing,” Shinichi says, raising the cup to his lips to hide it.

“Looks like a lot of nothing,” Kaito says, picking up the remote and going to a streaming service.

“Yeah,” Shinichi says, pressing a kiss to Kaito’s temple. “That’s one way to put it.”

[darkangelz87]

Different Perspectives

A Autistic Sherlock and eventually Queerplatonic Johnlock fanfiction. Read if you want. ^^

                                     Seeing from Different Perspectives

                                                                                                                           Chapter One

 Autism.

: a mental condition, present from early childhood, characterized by difficulty in communicating and forming relationships with other people and in using language and abstract concepts.

Vague snapping of fingers, twirling, chewing on pencil erasers, sleeves and hands, bright lights, colors, sounds, texture of food and clothing, comforting or abrasive, touch, unwelcome and hurtful, eye contact, nope, thoughts merging and turning into screams… “STOP!”

Sherlock froze, shocked at the sound of his own voice ringing in his ears as he still was pulling at his curly hair, his eyes growing watery with unshed and unwanted tears as he stared straight ahead which happened to be right above a crowd of milling people in a shopping mall and dear lord, no, John was here. He didn’t want John to see this!

John Watson stopped what he was doing which was interrogating a passerby and he immediately strode over to him where he was sitting on a bench, the army doctor mask coming over his face as he leaned down, trying to catch his eye sight, “Hey! Sherlock! You okay? What’s wrong?”

Sherlock frowned, an eyebrow twitching.

Okay… I should probably start from the beginning.

I was diagnosed with Autism as a child and that combined with my brilliant mind and swift calculations was an astounding combination.

I saw it as a gift, my brain but I learned from other people especially my family and fellow childhood students that it wasn’t such a brilliant thing.

I remember enjoying and getting lost in the rays of sunlight through dust motes and how my pleasure points of my brain lit up with joy as I spent hours running my hands through the magical streams. I tried to show it to my family and got scolded for spending hours loafing when I should be studying.

My first special interest and happens to still be a dear interest of mine before studying murders, literature and violin was the wonder of bees. I fell in love with them after I saw my first bumble bee. One landed on a flower near me as I sat studying on a hill near our old house and when my eyes strayed to it, I felt something in me stir with silent wonder at its tiny fuzzy body and its low almost soothing buzzing. I watched it, enthralled until it flew away, and I rushed into the house, went to the family computer and quickly searched ‘Bees’.

I began to draw hundreds of bees, reading and studying everything about them and catching them, putting them in jars and letting them go after a while. The thing that blew my young mind and made me admire the little insects even more is, scientifically, the bumble bee’s wings should be too small for it to fly. Amazing little creatures that no one ever took notice of.

My bees ‘obsession’ was dismissed as a childish phase.

Flapping my hands when I was happy was discouraged ‘It was embarrassing’, twirling was considered dangerous to myself, to everyone around me and to the breakable objects within reach, when I was quiet and wanted to listen to Bach with my headphones on instead of struggling to push words out of my mouth I was considered uppity and snobbish.

Everything I did was wrong, so I started to formulate a blockade around me, my emotions and my autistic side was pushed down and restrained so I turned myself over to my mind and my calculating abilities and enhanced those qualities about myself instead and silently reveled in the praise it brought me from my family and the school faculty.

It didn’t help me with people though, they were a foreign entity and I didn’t want them to get too close to me because if they found out all about me they would surely go away, and I didn’t want the trouble, the headache and pain of relationships. And having girlfriends or boyfriends was out of the question. Sally Reed from high school tried to kiss me and I punched her for touching my tongue with hers and all the boys wanted to do with me was they hit me and taunted me for being smarter than them. I can’t help it if I knew the formula for pi in 4th grade, I naturally excelled at mathematics.

Later, I found my calling in being a consulting detective for Inspector Lestrade, it fully utilized my brain in a healthy way (drugs got my pent-up emotions and energy out when I was high, and I didn’t care about keeping up facades when I was stoned) and I could get along with Inspector Lestrade (Even if some of his group are complete idiots). I eventually found a promising flat with an acquaintance I knew from an old case, Mrs. Hudson. The only problem which was a big problem considering my sometimes-low funds (I refuse to ask Mycroft for anything if I can help it!) was I needed a flat mate to help me with the rent.

In walks John Watson.

I admit, at first, I was only interested in Watson because of his ability to pay some of the bills and to furnish half of the rent but then it turned to something else when he really listened to my deductions with almost a form of awe and a word whispered in complete reverence like: ‘Marvelous!’, ‘Brilliant!’, ‘Fantastic!’, the list went on and to top it all, he killed a man for me.

I haven’t known him for very long but what I do know of Watson, he intrigues me, and no one has ever intrigued me before. I wanted to keep him thinking that I was this intellectual genius, so I hid my disability from him with care the last couple of months that we have lived together.

Well, seems like the proverbial cat is out of the bag.

I didn’t want to go to a mall to talk to a jeweler that had been robbed from, it was a category 3 at least, not worth my interest but Watson had shown interest in it and he said it would be nice to hang out together, that it would be a casual time out together.

Uhuh… I should’ve went with my instinct and said, most definitely no!

It was an onslaught on my senses ever since we entered the doors. Screaming kids, chattering, giggling girls and boisterous laughter assaulted my ears, fluorescent lights glared in my eyes making my head pound with intense pain and people getting too close for comfort sometimes made my skin crawl and unpleasantly itch all over.

By the time I was clawing at my hair and screaming for everything to “STOP!” I knew my cover was blown.

I didn’t dare to look up when John asked what was wrong, but I gritted my teeth and clenched my eyes tightly shut, trying to shut out the imminent look of pity that would surely be coming from Watson.

What I didn’t expect was gentle, steady hands on both sides of my face.

My eyes flew open in shock and I blinked unexpectedly at the change of brightness as I slowly registered that John had just slipped a pair of sunglasses over my eyes.

I blinked up at John and he just smiled, a little smile that he shows sometimes when he is reading the paper, writing in his blog, or drinking an extra especially good cup of hot tea and he walked back to the jeweler, continuing to ask him questions.

I was dumbstruck.

I composed myself and quietly felt around in my faculties, testing myself to see if my senses had calmed down somewhat and found to my surprise that just dimming the lights had made the sounds more bearable and my pounding headache melted down to a tremor of pain. Note to self: Start carrying sunshades in coat pocket.

John walked back to me and I cocked my head to one side, looking up at him with a question on my face, he answered the quiet question, “Nothing that the police can’t solve by themselves.” I growled in annoyance, rolling my eyes, “Like I said, clearly a category 3, nothing of interest.” John grinned, shrugging, “Ah, oh well. It was worth getting out of the flat for a bit huh?” I snorted, looking away, “I’d rather dissect a skunk than be around these swaggering, giggling bags of testosterone and hormones.” John laughed, making me turn my eyes on him, really looking at him and seeing him, I quirked an eyebrow quizzically at this seemingly normal man and I smirked.

John Watson was anything but normal.

 Author’s note: This chapter is insanely short and kinda pointless lol but I just wanted to start this story with something sooo here it is! I’ve been wanting to write this for a very long time and I’m starting it! I’m excited! :) I will be using my own Autistic experiences in the story (Using sunglasses does help dim down sensory issues for me. I wear them in public a lot.). I hope to be able to kinda write and put together a guideline for the next chapter so it won’t be so short and kind of random and I am debating just keeping the story in Sherlock’s pov and not switching back and forth like I am prone to do.

But yeah, this story is about Autistic Sherlock and how he tries to act neurotypical and generally succeeds until John Watson comes in the picture and figures things out and the big thing is, John doesn’t care that Sherlock is Autistic and it may possibly be one of the things that he loves about him. 😊

Yes, there will be queerplatonic Johnlock a lot later in the story cause it’s a slow burn, very sloooow but cutesy fluffy slow burn.

Hope you guys like it and feedback is appreciated! 😊  

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[ramajmedia]

Midsomer Murders: The 5 Best & Worst Episodes (According To IMDb)

Midsomer Murders is a British detective drama that began in 1997. It’s based on Caroline Graham’s Chief Inspector Barnaby book series. It’s set in several villages within the fictional English county of Midsomer and is known for it’s occasional lightheaded jokes and moments of dark humor. Seasons 1-13 starred John Nettles as the eponymous DCI Tom Barnaby, and since season 14 it has starred Neil Dudgeon, who played Tom Barnaby’s nephew John. It has remained spectacularly popular, and even after 20 seasons, ratings have hardly dropped.

Season 21 will begin airing in 2020. Until then, here are the best and worst episodes according to IMDb.

RELATED: The 10 Most Bingeworthy Anthology TV Series, Ranked

10 Worst: The Lions of Causton (6.9/10)

In this season 20 episode, DCI John Barnaby and DS Winter investigate the death of Mark Adler, a businessman and former rugby player. He is found dead in a cryotherapy center associated with his former rugby team, the Causton Lions. The mystery takes Barnaby and Winter through some serious club rivalry, old grudges, romance, and artisanal chocolates. After Mark Adler’s death, two more people die—one by suicide and the other by owning in hot chocolate. 

Fans who don’t like the episode thought the writing was convoluted and the characters too shallow. 

9 Best: Last Year’s Model (8.1/10)

DCI Tom Barnaby has a constable sit in on Annie Woodrow’s trial for bludgeoning someone to death. However, as the constable starts to report back to Tom Barnaby, he starts to worry that maybe he has arrested the wrong person. There had been seemingly watertight evidence—a reliable eye-witness, and Annie caught in a web of lies—but Tom thinks there’s more to the story. As the trial continues, he continues to investigate the case with his constable.

This season 9 episode is the last in the series to score above an 8.0. 

8 Worst: Written in the Stars (6.9/10)

During an eclipse, an amateur astronomer named Jeremy Harper is killed by a blow to the head with a meteorite while on Moonstone Ridge. The initial suspect is Laurence Janson, the head of the university observatory who wants to build on Moonstone Ridge and is having an affair with Harper’s wife. However more brutal (and astronomically-themed) deaths start to happen. A local clairvoyant has claimed that she predicted each death, and insists that Moonstone Ridge is cursed. It turns out the motive is actually written in the stars. 

RELATED: 10 British Murder Mysteries You Need to Watch

Fans didn’t love that this episode seemed to jump the shark. Not only is the mysticism out of character for the show, but the characters are pretty shallow.

7 Best: Ghosts of Christmas Past (8.2/10)

This season seven episode features a family that reunites for Christmas nine years after one of them, Ferdy Villiers, died by suicide. There’s clear tension in the family and then grandmother Lydia Villiers is killed. As DCI Tom Barnaby investigates, it becomes clear that there are many secrets in the house. Eventually, it’s uncovered that Ferdie’s fiancée’s died by suicide very soon after his death and suddenly there might be someone out for revenge.

People loved the atmospheric quality of this Christmas episode, and that the answer to the mystery is truly difficult to uncover. The script is considered smart and thought-provoking as well.

6 Worst: Breaking the Chain (6.6/10)

This season 18 episode had some convoluted relationships going on in it. Cyclist Greg Eddon  is murdered just after winning a national race. It turns out he had just barely beat out teammate Mitch McCordell. Meanwhile, Greg had been spotted kissing Aiden McCordell’s girlfriend, and has been receiving threatening texts over it. (The two McCordell’s are brothers.) The race was crucial to the success of Greg’s cycling stable, and the rival team is accusing Greg’s team of corruption. Before DCI Barnaby can figure out what’s happened, another person turns up dead.

Most fans disliked that the crucial information to solve the murder wasn’t revealed until the last ten minutes of the 90-minute episode. 

5 Best: Death’s Shadow (8.2/10)

In season 2, real estate developer Richard Bailey was hacked to death in his home. There are many suspects, as several people in the village were extremely opposed to his new plan to redevelop a historic property, Tye House, into a golf course and residential estate. To add interest, Bailey’s childhood friend Ian Eastman also wanted to develop the property but lost to Bailey. But then a second murder is discovered and DCI Barnaby must find the link between the two deaths, which may go back thirty years. 

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Fans love that the mystery is well developed, the story is sometimes humorous, and the answer is very surprising, but makes sense. 

4 Worst: The Night of the Stag (6.5/10)

A government revenue inspector, Peter Slim, is murdered while investigating illicit stills in advance fo the Midsomer Abbas May Festival. There is a major fight brewing in the village as temperance campaigners, led by parson Norman Grigor, clash with Anthony Devereux, a cider mill owner, and Samuel Quested, a pub landlord who wants to bring back an old fertility custom. DCI Barnaby discovers a secret that links Slim to a village girl, but as he tries to investigate it, someone who knows that secret is also murdered. 

Viewers were extremely bothered by the “courting” rituals that seem much more like sexual assault. The motive for the murder also makes very little sense to many fans.

3 Best: The Killings at Badger’s Drift (8.2/10)

The very first episode is also a fan favorite. Emily Simpson is found dead in her house—many think it was an accident but DCI Barnaby’s instincts lead him to believe that it was murder. There is the possibility that she saw something she shouldn’t have while biking through the woods, but her death may also be linked to another “accidental death” the previous year. When two other residents of Badger’s Drift are murdered, Barnaby discovers an illicit love affair, blackmail, and other creepy characters.

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As the premiere episode of the series, this was the one that got many viewers hooked. It’s still a fan favorite for the clear murder mystery with surprising twists and turns that still hold up 22 years later.

2 Worst: Blood on the Saddle (6.4/10)

This season 13 episode is the lowest rated in the series, which is saying a lot about how beloved Midsomer Murders is! 6.4 is still a solid positive rating. 

The episode centers on a Wild West show that rolls through town. Soon after it arrives, Faye Lennox is murdered, quickly followed by her lover Jack Fincher, who is lassoed and dragged to death. There are many suspects, but it takes a third death for DCI Tom Barnaby to figure out who the murderer is. Fans disliked the episode because of the tonal dissonance between Midsomer and the Wild West. Many also think it to the weakest storyline in the series.

1 Best: Judgement Day (8.3/10)

The village of Midsomer Mallow is competing for the “perfect village” title when a resident is killed with a pitchfork. Peter Drinkwater was a thief and womanizer, so there are a lot of initial suspects including a jealous husband, a spurned lover, and a robbery victim. Of course, several people in the village only care about how the death will impact the voting for the perfect village title, which draw them under suspicion too. Naturally, the answers lie in the past, and it is up to DCI Barnaby to figure out what happened in a murder 45 years earlier in order to get his answer to the murder today. 

People really love that this episode combines the quaint loveliness of the English countryside with a solid mystery that is full of surprises. Bonus: Peter Drinkwater is one of Orlando Bloom’s earliest roles, which brings new viewers to the show all the time.

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source https://screenrant.com/midsomer-murders-best-worst-episodes-imdb/