#always reblog john by the thames

[fizzyxcustard]

Betrayal (17) - FINALE. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: Crossover of Spooks and Pilgrimage (Modern AU)

Pairings: Lucas North x OC/Raymond de Merville x OC

Warnings: Love triangle. Angst. Language. Sexual references/language. Cheating. Stalking. Some spoilers from season 9. Su*cide. Grief.

Summary: Amy Holland is Lucas North’s girlfriend of six months. Amy is aware of his job as an MI-5 agent and supports him. However, Lucas’ cousin, Raymond de Merville, has always loved Amy and uses their one night stand together as leverage for something more.

Comments/Notes: If you wish to be tagged in any of my tag lists for fics or characters, please let me know, and stipulate what you want to be tagged in. I’m gradually removing people from my tag lists who do not interact.

If you enjoy this fic, please remember that a reblog is always much appreciated and helps us writers out immensely with getting our fics circulated. <3

There is an explicit warning in this chapter for su*cide. Please read with caution if you feel that it something that may affect you.

This will be the final instalment of this fic, so thank you to everyone who has come along on the journey with me. I appreciate all of you so much.

ONE YEAR LATER

Amy crouched at the gravestone, reading the name John Bateman in gold, italic lettering. Tears dripped down her cheeks as she placed a small bunch of white roses into the font. "I'm sorry, Lucas," she whispered. She said those words every day, still carrying the guilt for his passing. In his sheer terror at the thought of being imprisoned again, after living a lie and carrying another man's name, John Bateman, threw himself from the roof of Thames House in London.

Raymond took Amy's hand in his and helped her back up to her full height. "Come here," he whispered, and took her into his arms.

Amy remembered the funeral, a tiny gathering of only her, Raymond and a vicar, to commend John Bateman to ashes and his final resting place. None of his colleagues had come to the service; none of his family wanted anything to do with the man being laid to rest. Only Raymond and Amy showed any kind of care and compassion.

Back at the car, Amy got in the passenger seat. Her eyes remained focused on her hands which were fidgeting in her lap.

Raymond took a deep intake of breath as he got back in the car. Every day and he saw the pain she carried with her, the guilt of Lucas' death. He knew that she blamed herself for not stopping him taking his life. None of the counselling seemed to be helping her, and all Raymond wanted was to see her smile again...properly.

"Aim?"

"Mhmm?"

"He wouldn't want you to live like this, you know?" Raymond said softly, turning towards her. "I think I knew him enough to know that he'd never want you carrying guilt on your shoulders. When he took his life, that was his choice. There was no way you could have stopped him."

"How do I know that?" Amy looked at Raymond with a watery gaze. "Will I ever really know?"

"No, you won't, but his choice isn't something that should define you. Amy, I want to see you live. Don't you think it kills me seeing you like this day after day? Everything that John did was his choice alone. We go over this so many times, and I don't think even your counsellor is getting through to you either."

"I was one of the last people he spoke to, and I heard all that pain in his voice," Amy began. Then the sadness overtook her again, the hole in her gut opening up and outwards.

"Amy, please?" Raymond begged. He reached over the space between them and held her face in his hands. "I love you so much, and I just want to see you smile." Tears also fell down his cheeks. He peppered her face in kisses. "I'd do anything to take this pain from you. Blame me if you need to, just...stop carrying this."

***

A week after Amy and Raymond's trip to London to visit Lucas' grave, Amy stood in from of her bathroom mirror. She looked at the the two pink lines. Positive. It didn't comprehend for the first few seconds, and then she gasped, dropping the white test into the sink with shaking hands.

Raymond let himself in to the two bedroom flat he shared with Amy in Coventry. After a near twelve hours at work, he was ready to have an early night. The flat was quiet, he noticed. Normally if Amy was home before him then music would be playing, and tonight should have been one of those nights.

He placed his keys down onto a small table in the hallway and then followed it down into the kitchen at the end. She wasn't there. He checked the living room. She wasn't there.

"Amy?" he called.

"In here. I'm in the bathroom."

Raymond opened the bathroom door to see Amy sat on the toilet lid. She was holding a small white object in her hand, and she was smiling. It was a contented smile, a smile that made its way to her eyes.

She lifted the object to Raymond for him to look at it. "I'm pregnant," she said simply.

Raymond stared at Amy, speechless. Like her, the news didn't comprehend immediately. And then it hit. He was going to be a father. The second part of his dream had come true. Not only did he have Amy, the woman he loved, but she was carrying their baby.

Amy waited, growing nervous at Raymond's lack of response. Until his whole face changed and he beamed. He grabbed her tight and pulled her to him, and together they kissed.

As they parted, Amy saw tears in Raymond's eyes. "Our little de Merville baby," Amy said, smiling from ear to ear.

Without another word, Raymond got to his knee and took Amy's hand. "I intend to make you one, too. Will you marry me?"

Amy couldn't help but let the sheer joy of what was happening over take her completely. Tears fell down her cheeks, and she threw herself and Raymond into another tight, love-filled embrace. "Yes. I'd want nothing more."

FIN.

***

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[cutie1365]

Hello Detective Chapter 71

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This is my first time writing in months oof, but I’ve had these next few chapters outlined for a while so I’m really excited about this idea and where it’s going. 

Any and all feedback is appreciated and encouraged!

Masterlist in bio, taglist in reblog.

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

“Wow,” Charles said in shock as he took a sip of his martini. Sitting across from him in a dark secluded corner of the expensive restaurant you explained everything to him and how your life had changed over the last few weeks.

“Are you really surprised? You know how crazy my life is. This can’t be that much of a stretch.” You chuckled. Looking back, shocking things happened to you all the time. Serial killers, faked deaths, assassins.

“I just can’t believe you got married.” He shook his head. You were no longer the cold hearted grieving girl he once knew.

“Actually I’m kind of shocked about that one too. Everything happened so fast.” You gazed off out the window. You’d gone from married to fake broken up so fast that it almost gave you whiplash.

“Are you ok with all of this?” Charles asked with a raised brow, uncertain.

“It’s our jobs, I know it’s never going to be easy. You and I have each done worse for a case.” You tried to convince him, and maybe yourself.

“God I know,” He almost shivered, “Remember Barcelona?”

“Don’t remind me.” You cringed, shaking your head, before looking up and smiling at the man across from you. The two of you sure had some wild adventures.

“So when’s the last time you saw him?” He asked, changing the subject.

“Hm, guess it’s been about three weeks. We texted for the first two, but he told me he’d have to cut off contact. Guess a break in the case. Hopefully this will all be over soon and things can go back to normal.” You said, taking a sip of your wine.

“Our lives are never normal Y/N,” Charles teased, “How’s work been? I mean, obviously can’t be that great, I’m not there.”

“Ask me something else.” You groaned, stabbing at your plate as you pictured Magnussen’s face.

“O come on, do you need me to kill someone for you?” He asked, and you knew he wasn't joking.

“That’s so sweet, Charles, really chivalrous of you.” You smirked, placing a hand over your heart.

“You know I’ll do it darling, drop of a hat.” He sipped his drink once more.

“Oh I know you will. Work’s fine. I like it, I do. I hate the politics of it though.” You shrug.

“We need to get a gun back in your hand and get you back to MI6.” He said.

“What, do you not like your new partner?” You asked with a smirk, knowing he didn’t play well with others. Hence the whole reason you were assigned to work with him in the first place.

“Well they’re not you darling, so obviously.” He flattered you.

“Do you want a desk job at MI5?” You teased.

“Oh shoot me.” He scoffed, causing you to laugh.

You’d missed this, the shenanigans you two got into. Of course you were happy to be catching up with him again, you just wish it wasn’t under these circumstances. You were thankful to have someone to confide in though.

“Why don’t you come see the office tomorrow, I’m free in the morning. Take a break from the River House.” You suggested, tempting him with your puppy dog eyes.

“I might...” He smiled, knowing he could never say no to you. His voice trailed off as you noticed your waiter approaching your table.

“Are you ready for the check, sir?” The waiter asked, only making eye contact with Charles, not even acknowledging you.

“Yes please.” Charles took the leather booklet from the man who promptly turned and left. You reached across the table to snatch it out of his hand but he pulled away out of your reach.

“A gentleman never lets a lady pay.” He shook his head.

“Well we both know you’re not a gentleman. And this lady promised you dinner, for you know, saving the entire country from a nuclear explosion.” You argued.

“If you insist.” He smirked, bringing the check closer, now within your reach.

“I do.” You snatched it, slipping your card in without even looking at the price. Perks of the new job. Hell if Mycroft had told you how much you were gonna make you would have gone off to work with him a long time ago.

As Charles walked you back to your flat, you slipped your arm under his as you noticed the photographer on the other side of the street. They seemed to be camped out with a direct view of your house. Of course you pretended not to notice them.

“What do you say Gregson, gonna invite me up for old times sake?” Charles smirked as you’d made it to your front door.

“I say, we’ve got eyes on us at your six and my husband needs the world thinking we broke up. So you’re going to kiss me on the cheek and then I will invite you inside.” You smiled sweetly, you had to make these photos look convincing. Surely they’d be on the front page come tomorrow morning.

“Have you always been this bossy?” He smiled, rolling his eyes and slowly moving in to kiss you on the cheek, giving the photographer time to make sure he got a shot.

“Of course I have.” You whispered back with a chuckle.

“Happy?” He smiled, pulling away.

“Come on, my couch misses you sleeping on it. And I’ve got some Glenlivet 25 with your name on it.” You slipped your arm around his back and pulled him into the flat, no doubt giving the photographers a couple more shots.

“Oh Gregson, you know me so well.” He smirked.

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

The next morning you were giving Charles the grand tour of the Thames House, MI5 HQ. You were hoping for a calm, quiet, peaceful morning. Of course in your world that was never likely.

As you’d made it to the top floor of the building and stepped into your corner office Charles immediately strode in like he owned the place.

“So this is your office, hmm, I could get used to this.” He smirked as he plopped himself down into your desk chair and spun to face the windows. They were floor to ceiling and made up the whole wall. Of course they were bullet proof for security purposes.

“You wouldn’t last a week.” You joked as you approached the window and admired your beautiful view of the river.

Suddenly, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket, you were pulling it out as you turned back to Charles and chuckled at his behavior.

Who knew a world class assassin could be won over by a cover office and a swivel chair. Your face went pale as you glanced at the text that lit up your lock screen.

911 Barts

-JW

“Oh my god,” You muttered.

“What is it?” Charles asked, he knew it was serious from the look on your face.

“911 Barts Hospital.” You turned the phone so he could see as you snatched your purse off of your desk.

“Come on, I’ll drive.” Bass jumped into action, leading you out the door and down to the garage as your mind wandered. Something was wrong. John wouldn’t have texted you if it wasn’t. Was it Mrs. Hudson? Was it Sherlock?

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

As you burst into the lab that the receptionist had directed you towards you heard the hard slap of flesh on flesh as Molly’s hand came down onto Sherlock’s face. He was alive, hell he looked like shit but he was alive. He’d told you this case would take a physical toll on him, you knew it could mean a relapse.

“Oo, can I go next?” You ask, annoyed as you stood in the doorway, Charles lingering behind you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Sherlock spat, matching your energy, making sure to hold up his end of the charade. You saw his head tilt to view the man standing behind you. He almost looked intimidated for a moment, as his face flashed in a “That’s Charles?” sort of manner.

“John texted me ‘911’, I thought it would be important, I was on a date. Clearly I can see we’ve wasted our time.” You retorted, crossing your arms as you stepped into the room. This was as close as you’ve gotten to Sherlock in nearly a month.

“I’m confused.” John chimed in, furrowing his brows as he looked between you and Sherlock.

“We broke up.” Sherlock explained with an eye roll, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“You’re joking.” John almost laughed, not thinking he was serious. The hint of laughter left his lips as he looked back at you and Charles, “You’re not joking. So you two...”

You nodded as Charles stepped to your side to introduce himself.

“Charles Bass,” He shook John’s hand with a smirk. For an extra touch he slipped his hand to the small of your back.

“Right.” John nodded, still confused as to how so much had happened while he was away on his honeymoon. To him it seemed like his whole world had turned upside down.

“Maybe one more slap for good measure, Molly.” You smiled at the girl who looked just as shocked as John at the news of the break up. Glancing down you noticed the missing ring on her ringer, and hoped she wouldn’t get any ideas.

“If you were anywhere near this kind of thing again you could have called, you could have talked to me.” John moved towards Sherlock, obviously he wasn’t clean. Rock bottom always meant a certain 7% solution. You hated how it always came back to this.

“Oh, please, do relax. This is all for a case.” Sherlock rolled his eyes at John’s scolding.

“Isn’t it always. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that one.” You scoffed.

“What kind of case would need you doing this?” John asked, still not amused.

“I might as well ask you why you’ve started cycling to work?” Sherlock said to John, trying to change the subject as you glanced at the wrinkles in John’s shirt and followed his deduction.

“No, we’re not playing this game.” John shook his head.

“I drove all the way here for this?” You raised a brow, annoyed.

Sherlock looked to you as John had his back turned. A smirk lingered on his lips, he was enjoying this little game. That or he was still high. You had to admit, it almost was fun, and a bit like role playing. The smirk dropped as he put back on his mask and turned to John.

“Quite recently, I’d say, you’re very determined about it.” He just loved to get under John’s skin.

“Not interested.” John said, and you nodded in agreement as you turned to walk back towards the door.

“I am. Ow!” You recognized a voice coming from behind Sherlock and turned around at the sound of his yelp. You tilted your head to see around him, your eyes landing on a familiar face.

“Wiggins? What’re you doing here?” You asked, your brows furrowed in genuine confusion.

“How do you know him?” Sherlock asked with hostility, but something in his voice told you he was scared. He didn’t like not knowing things, and he couldn’t comprehend how you could possibly know this man. You weren’t supposed to know him, this wasn’t part of the ruse.

“We’re old friends,” You said sarcastically, rolling your eyes, “What do you think?”. His eyes widened in realization. Well there’s anothering thing the two of you had in common, same dealer. Although for you it was more of a one time thing.

“Is it his shirt?” Wiggins butt in, changing the subject and breaking the unintentional staring contest you and Sherlock were having.

“I’m sorry?” Sherlock turned back to Wiggins.

“Well, it’s the creases, innit?” Wiggins said, “The two creases down the front? It’s been recently folded but it's not new. You must have dressed in a hurry this morning. So all your shirts must be kept like that. But why? Maybe ‘cause you cycle to work every morning, shower when you get there, and then dress in the clothes you brought with you. You keep your shirts folded, ready to pack.” He said, shocking nearly everyone in the room.

John and Mary were so focused on Wiggins that you and Sherlock were able to share a quick smile, almost a laugh. It quickly faded to ensure no one else noticed.

“Not bad...” Sherlock said.

“There you go, a new toy to play with. Have fun,” You scowled at Sherlock as you made your way towards the door once more, “Molly, Watsons, Wiggins, it’s been a pleasure.” You nodded at the rest of them, ignoring Sherlock as you left the room.

As you walked down the hall, you weren’t sure whether to feel angry or happy that you at least got to see your husband and know that he’s alive.

“Well that was unexpected.” Charles said, breaking your train of thought as you walked back to the car.

“Welcome to my world.” You scoffed, a ‘quiet morning’ was unheard of for you.

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

Just as you began the drive back to your office your phone lit up with a call from Mycroft, causing you to roll your eyes.

“My brother’s drug habit is about to hit the newspaper. Did you know about this?” He asked, and if you didn’t know any better it sounded like an accusation.

“Well that’s not really my problem anymore is it?” You retorted.

You’d spent the last few weeks convincing him that you and Sherlock had broken up. Making sure to mention plans with Charles more in his presence to really sell it. Luckily after some initial shock and a brief conversation with his brother, he believed you. But surely he wouldn’t think you would leak a relapse to the press for some sort of petty revenge.

“Did you know?” He asked once more, more forcefully.

“No, I just found out. He’s at Saint Barts, John texted me.” You explained, rolling your eyes once more.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to block all of these articles. Will you meet me at Baker Street, I may need back up.” He asked, but you knew it wasn’t really a question. You tapped Charles on the shoulder and mouthed ‘Baker Street’ to him and spun your finger to instruct him to turn the car around. He nodded and complied.

“Should I bring my gun?” You asked sarcastically. What kind of back up did he think he was going to need, it’s his baby brother for christ sake.

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” He said, unamused.

“Well if you’re not wanting me to crack any skulls I’m not sure why I have to tag along.” You said, you had a very certain skill set and if he wasn’t looking to utilize it, there was really no point beyond moral support.

“Don’t make me order you.” He threatened and you scoffed, as if he could.

“Mycroft, I don’t want to have to see him. Surely you can understand why. It’s not my job to look after him anymore.” You pleaded.

“No, but it is mine. So you will be there.” He said sternly, and you sighed and hung up.

Of course you had already instructed Charles to turn around and head to Baker Street, you just wanted to push back against Mycroft a little to make this whole break up seem more convincing.

When you pulled up Mycroft was waiting outside. Charles got out and made his way around the car to open the door for you. You leaned back against the closed door as you smiled sadly at Charles.

“Thank you, sorry your tour gott cut short.” You smiled, making sure to keep your voice at a whisper so Mycroft didn’t overhear anything.

“Oh my morning was much more interesting, you’re one hell of an actress darling.” He whispered back with a smirk, placing one hand next to you on the car and leaning closer casually.

“You’re just figuring that out? By the way, we have a very important audience right now.” You informed him.

“That the brother?” He asked, and you nodded.

“Then we’ll just have to be convincing,” Bass said, leaning down to leave a chaste kiss on your lips. It wasn’t the first time you’d kissed for a case, public displays of affection make people uncomfortable and tend to prove very useful in spywork.

“I’ll call you later.” He waved with a wink as you walked towards Mycroft. You smiled and waved back with a nod.

Mycroft raised a brow, his face in its usual look of disgust.

“Well that was unpleasant to watch.” He said once you were now standing in front of him.

“I told you I was busy and I don’t want to be here, you don’t get to judge.” You scolded, raising your finger at him. You turned to face the famous black door of 221 Baker Street, realizing how long it’s been since you’d been here.

“No, but I do get to say I was right.” He smirked, causing you to furrow your brows and turn back to him.

“About what?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“I always knew there was more between you and 007.” He said, with the tilt of his head, as if he took pleasure in being right. Of course he wasn’t really right.

“Spare me, Mycroft. Let's just get this over with.” You rolled your eyes and crossed the threshold into 221B, an eerie feeling starting to settle in. Your gut told you not to walk up those seventeen steps, it warned you, it screamed ‘Danger Ahead”, but of course you didn’t listen. You never did.

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