#and Watson and the Holmes brothers are probably getting put through some shit too

[tiger-moran]

How do we feel about angst cos this story seems to be turning out to be a lot darker than I expected it to be

[alltingfinns]

TEH, part 3

I wasn’t sure how much there was left after the bonfire scene but apparently there’s about a half hour left, meaning these parts are in neat thirds.

I write as if anyone else knows what I’m talking about when these drop randomly once a year or so.

Sherlock remained more in focus from John’s perspective.

Still so cute how Sherlock immediately must hustle his parents out when his crush heterosexual former roommate shows up.

Mum putting her foot in the doorway in case there was any doubt who’s the “sherlock” of these two.

“Your parents? Your parents? Those were your parents?”

John who desperately wants to understand Sherlock. How much he would have wanted to interrogate them, I’m sure. But then he has to giggle at the absurdity of the Holmes brothers having such (seemingly) ordinary parents.

And then the hurt. “Did they know too?”

“So that’s why they weren’t at the funeral!” Because if they had been, John would have recognized them now of course. But also he probably thought they had died or something, making their existence as ordinary people even more shocking.

“Wasn’t working for me.” If Molly and John not mirrors then why this exact line. Why not “Well, everybody hated it” or “Didn’t fit me” or “Kept tickling my lips”.

Just saying. Plenty of options.

“Last night” “Too nebulous” goes on with the case.

There’s all the likelihood that, like with Sherlock’s survival, the writers just didn’t care who put John in the bonfire. They just wanted John in the bonfire. So that Sherlock could heroically rescue him.

And yes I was thinking about how this episode takes place “today” as in 5th November as in Guy Fawke’s Day. (Though the cool kids call it John Johnson’s day.)

Am I just that Johnlocked that I find it adorable that Sherlock angled the laptop so that John would see more/be more included?

Sumatra road is 28 minutes by car from Westminister. Definitely not below it. Gotta take some creative liberties for those sweet canon references.

Why hasn’t Moran just left town entirely? Oh well.

A bit of illegal breaking and entering as people walk by without giving them a second glance. That’s big cities for you.

I forgot how far they have to go through this.

Love that John got to comment on the demolition charges.

Ah, I get it! Moran still has to be in like radio range or something.

“Why do you think I know what to do?” Really, Sherlock? Really?

“And a soldier, as you keep reminding us all!” Sherlock why are you being so petty, you love him being a former soldier.

051113 is the bomb code.

I just love the line “Use your mind palace” because it makes me think of how intelligence is weirdly used as a superpower in media.

Also that you can vaguely hear Sherlock saying “off” as he’s panicking with his hands around the bomb.

John is so fucking smart but also maybe he also just has faith in Sherlock being clever enough. But anyway just cutting through the bullshit, this is a trick.

Maybe Sherlock is underhanded here. But John finds this sort of stuff difficult.

So here we get John Watson’s version of Dean Winchester’s purgatory prayer. “Of course I forgive you”

This explanation is definitely unreliable narrator. Sherlock wasn’t quite as in control as he likes to portray himself so of course he makes it out otherwise. But he’s convinced that Moriarty died but again: A. Singular. Body.

This explanation means that it was John that most importantly had to buy it. Possibly because close friend, with medical certification who Sherlock nonetheless felt he couldn’t trust the acting skills of.

I think this scene happened (more or less) and sometime after the proper end to the episode. But like even Anderson(Philip) noticed that the explanation is lacking.

Sherlock laughing like the utter little shit he is.

“There’s always an off switch.” Say that to the undefusable bomb. Although technically it did have an off switch, it was just too complicated to be tried without knowing the proper sequence.

Getting John to laugh even when he’s angry with him.

They really are the right kind of wrong for each other.

Mycroft being les miserable. XD

“Weddings. Not really my thing.”

You’re going to be planning and arranging the whole thing you miserable bastard!

A difference between Molly and John. She went for the suspiciously similar substitute, he went for (what he believed to be) the exact antithesis.

Oh my little lestrolly heart at Lestrade asking if Molly and Tom are serious. Although he is likely doing it because he is the one who would comment on the elephant.

“Real life is rarely so neat.” The goddamn bonfire.

They’re literally saying that the one true explanation for Sherlock surviving is that John asked him to.

“Time to be Sherlock Holmes.” *wears the damn hat*

Sherlock’s mind palace is certainly nicer than Magnussen’s.

[airconditionedgirl]

Tagged by @nsfwitchy

Nickname: Ali!

Sign: Aries 

Height: 5′8″ sob

Song Stuck In Your Head: Emperor’s New Clothes by Panic at the Disco

Sleep: this is easy lol bc i had a major panic attack this morning from like 4 to 9am ish or like a series of them idk and that tired me out so much that i slept from like 10am to 5pm.

Dream Job: Dog Sittiing!

Wearing: pink panties be normal about it (unless you’re allowed not to be u know who yall are)

Favorite Songs: fcnk, idk im not a huge music person i just like what i like? Addict, Cult of Dionysus, Achilles Come Down, Kesha’s Take it Off, Brothers of Metal is a band that I also enjoy.

Favorite Instrument: The Violin

Favorite Authors: Brandon Sanderson, Neil Gaiman, April Daniels, E.E. Ottoman, Madeline Miller

Favorite Animal Sounds: dog

Last Song: Cruel Angel’s Thesis probably

Last Series: Agatha Christie’s Poirot. It’s not Sherlock Holmes being extremely homoromantic with Watson but it’s a good show

Random: I learned how to solve a Rubik’s Cube last week! It’s been awesome and i literally cant stop telling people about it! Aside from that not much else has been going on. So I guess I’ll just put some movie opinions here: the Wachowski Sister’s Speed Racer movie is fantastic, the Star Wars prequels are good actually, the Matrix Reloaded and Revolutions are amazing actually, Mad Max Fury Road is a better Fallout movie than we will ever get, and I didn’t care for John Wick 3 that much. Like, it’s Fine? I just think it was doing too much, was too consistently visually overstimulating and less cohesive overall. Also the original “Chocolate Factory” film is low key facinating as shit and yall??? my favorite headcanon ever is that Willy Wonka is the Devil. Like actually and literally Satan. Seriously try watching that movie with that lens next time because it totally fits. He’s this dude who is the complete master of his own corner of the universe, he’s clearly very intelligent and is basically blatantly magical but scratch the surface and he’s also deeply unhinged, he guides the kids through the layers of his factory and literally Tempts them with things that represent their sins or character flaws, he’s all about testing them to see if they’ll resist that temptation or do the right thing in the end, a bunch of other little things that goddamn office of his and that contract and the oompa loompas might as well being demons (which is uh not good racially speaking but it’s better than the surface level text of the movie which basically has them as his slaves so Yikes) like seriously the movie legit gets so much better and interesting if you go into it with “Willy Wonka is the Devil” in your mind go go watch it right now damn you <3

And now I’ll tag @msaprildaniels @thetransgirlwhoneverwas @ginger-snap-talkin-nonsense !

[hnybnny]

properly introducing my main fanservants!!!

LOTS OF PHOTOS/ART AND SUCH UNDER THE CUT BUT LIKE,,,, THIS IS JUST. A QUICK INTRODUCTION. TO MY PRIMARY SERVANT BASTARD CHILDREN- (in order of appearance; Sebastian Moran, John Watson, Enola Holmes, Columbia, Thomas Edison (True), Nicolas Flamel, Captain Stormalong, Edgar Allan Poe)

Feel free to hop in my ask box if you wanna talk about them or have any questions!!! Thank you for reading ily- 

Colonel Sebastian Moran (Assassin)

My primary servant OC by far! Professor James Moriarty’s chief-of-staff and right hand man- the second most dangerous man in London, after the Napoleon of Crime himself. Nicknamed ‘Basher’ or ‘Tiger Jack’, among others..

Moran is- or was- the most skilled marksman in the British Army, before he was dishonorably discharged. There are only a handful of men on the face of the continent able to shoot as well as he. As well as being an unnaturally skilled shot, he is a devoted sportsman and big-game hunter, and has notoriously tangled with tigers by himself in India- a predator that rather aptly describes the man himself. He authored two books, and his feats are still legendary in India, where his record 'bag of tigers' still goes unmatched. Although his outwards appearance was that of a respectable London gentleman and honorable military veteran, he gained a reputation in the evil underworld and was recruited by James Moriarty, serving as his 'chief of staff' of his criminal empire as well as his personal assassin for jobs that required his peculiar skill with a rifle.

The man is, as one Chaldean staff member puts it, a 'stone-cold badass'. He has a nerve of iron, and is vehemently loyal to both Professor Moriarty and his Master. He lives for danger, and the thrill that comes with 'kill or be killed' situations. Moran is also extremely easy and obvious to read- smiling 'like an idiot' when happy, and 'frowning like thunder' when angry. He does rather enjoy killing people, and is overall a man of few morals (although still having more than the Professor)- which, paired together, is what led to his leave from the military as he's practically a walking example of the 'Colonel Kilgore' trope. The more challenging the kill, the more enjoyment he gets out of it. As a strange upside, Moran has no illusions of how he's a right bastard.

"Ask anyone who knew me in the army, and you'll hear the same things about Basher: tiger in the field, bounder in the mess; a good man to have your back, but a bad man to show your back to; trust him with a fight, but not your sister, your wallet, or a deck of cards."

His Noble Phantasm, which represents his unmatched skill with a rifle, is called  BEBR DER KHANH KHALI - Persian for ‘the tiger in the empty house’. 

The bullet shot is, unlike others, a specially-made expanding revolver bullet which makes Moran unable to be likely linked to the kill. Much like a ghost or a tiger stalking its prey, he is completely silent in his attack, and the target can never see him coming before they're already dead- and just as quickly he is gone, seemingly disappearing into thin air without a trace.

No matter the conditions or distance, as long as Moran can see his target in some way- whether by the naked eye or through his scope, or perhaps in some other manner- his shot is guaranteed to hit its mark with deadly accuracy.

Also, if you find him not wearing his coat, it’s probably because he gave it to Jack. He loves knife child. They deserve proper clothes.

(source: amon-sheep on twitter)

(source: manalmmune on twitter)

[[LINK TO HIS CHAPTER IN MY FANSERVANT FIC]]

--

Doctor John Watson (Caster)

The famed Boswell and best friend of the great detective himself. Aman who is most like his traditional origin, as opposed to the heavyset comedic figure modern media tends to make him out to be- aka the Watson that is described by Doyle as a former rugby player, an army man, and popular among the fairer sex due to his handsomeness, intelligence, and charm. 

He quickly becomes a proper ‘fatherly’ figure in Chaldea and especially to Master, due to his big dad energies, despite never having the chance to be a father in his life. Chaldea also appreciates finally having a proper doctor that isn’t a Berserker or... whatever’s going on with Ascelpius. Watson is Holmes’s life compass, the loyal companion always by his side who balances the detective out. 

Although he’s a caster, he also wields his trusty wartime revolver, and is curious in that, unlike most casters, he has one offensive Noble Phantasm- it’s his secondary, and his primary ‘Conductor of Light’ crystallizes Watson's role as a 'whetstone' for Sherlock Holmes's mind and unmatched stimulator of his famous flatmate's genius. As Holmes himself summarizes, “It may be that you are not yourself luminous, but that you are a conductor of light. Some people without possessing genius have a remarkable power of stimulating it.” This Noble Phantasm is purely supportive, serving to bring out the absolute best in an ally- whether it be manifested in power, magic, or inspiration- and temporarily unlocking a vast wealth of potential that they might not have even known they had. The exact limitations or bounds of it is not known, as it can seemingly extend in purpose as far as Watson or his Master might need it to in a given situation- able to provide buffs, grant moments of unmatched mental clarity or courage, and even unlock hidden abilities and Noble Phantasms if the moment is dire enough. His secondary NP is one he rarely uses, and hates to do so, because of the bad memories it dredges up- called ‘The Reichenbach Solution’, it creates a reality marble recreation of Reichenbach, with the roaring waters and a single shot from Watson himself sending the enemy tumbling off the falls to their demise. 

Watson was old friends with Moran in the army, and reconnect during their time in Chaldea (despite Holmes and Moriarty’s protests), and he also joins the ‘author squad’ and spends much time with them. He is a rational man and sturdy as they come, always there when needed; whether it be to patch up wounds, help solve mysteries, or to help Master deal with all the mental trauma from their adventures (because holy shit they need HELP-). Also Also he probably just straight up adopts Mash, he and Holmes are her new gay dads.

(source: gomooink on twitter)

--

Enola Holmes (Ruler)

If Sherlock is the representation of all great detectives, then the teenage Enola Holmes is the representation of all female sleuths. Originally far too weak to be a servant- her source material being extremely modern (Enola Holmes series by Nancy Springer), she contains the essence of the great detectives of the fairer sex, but most importantly of two Divine spirits- Athena and Persephone (not Ma’at, despite what the image says-), both Greek goddesses. Athena is the dominant of the two, and a maternal figure to Enola, while Persephone is content just to sit back and enjoy the ride.

The younger sister of Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes (and sometimes, the mysterious elder sibling Sherrinford), Enola is much like her more famous brother- similar in lanky stature and physical features, including the prominent hawk-like nose. She is plain in appearance but behind bright eyes hides an intelligent, clever mind, albeit a stubborn and hard-headed one. She is a rebel at heart, resisting the efforts of society to shove her into the mold of a perfect subservient Victorian woman. Enola often uses being underestimated due to her sex and age to her advantage, and, like Sherlock, is quite adept at the art of disguise. With her Spirit Origin also containing figures like Nancy Drew and Miss Marple, Enola is a talented private investigator with a knack for seeing things from angles that other’s can’t- like that of a woman.

Also yeah, she gay. Keep scrolling. She would like to hold hands with Mash very much. 

(enola w/ her brother mycroft; source, dewa-chan)

(concepts for her ascensions, mostly cemented, again courtesy of dewa-chan who i owe my life to always and forever-)

--

Columbia (Ruler)

The Divine Servant calling herself Columbia is a complex individual. At face value, she is the personification of the United States of America, often visualized as a goddess; a quasi-mythical figure first written about by the enslaved poet Phillis Wheatley during the Revolutionary War in her work To His Excellency, George Washington. Columbia is, in fact, an amalgamation of two lesser Divine Spirits. One of them is the Roman goddess of liberty, Libertas. The majority of personifications of liberty are merely aspects and appearances of her, including the Statue of Liberty and the unidentified woman in the painting Liberty Leading the People, leading to Libertas having a more powerful- if rather confusing- Spirit Origin compared to most other minor Roman deities. The other is Columbia herself; a goddess first encountered by Chaldea during the odd adventures with Paul Bunyan. She is the symbol of America, and although she is technically a goddess, she is not worshiped- instead existing as an anthropomorphic personification akin to Uncle Sam. She is a goddess crafted by humankind, a manifestation of the thirst for freedom and equality that resides in the heart of man.

However, her existence is still closely intertwined with Libertas, having come from her 'lineage'; Columbia explains that if other personifications of liberty were to manifest, such as Marianne- the French icon of liberty, they would have to have Libertas accompanying their own Spirit Origin to be anything more than a Phantom. Columbia is not only linked to the nation carrying the name America, but to the land itself- in her earliest incarnations she served as a representation of the Americas- both South and North- to those across the Atlantic. She protects all who walk across the great frontier, and all those who have walked it before. Geronimo often voices his hopes that she is the same goddess that brought the first peoples of the yet-unnamed land delicious maize in abundance; Columbia only ever gives a knowing wink, always keeping the answer to herself.

Columbia tries to speak like a newscaster- that is, without an accent- to hide that fact that her true accent as a Servant is the thickest fucking New York brogue you can imagine. AYYYY, SHE’S WALKIN’ ‘EEEEERE!!!!

She has two Noble Phantasms- a support one, her main, called ‘ TORCH OF THE NEW COLOSSUS: THE DREAM OF A NATION ‘, and an offensive albeit rarely used NP called ‘ STRIKE FOR FREEDOM: DO NOT WEEP, FOR WAR IS KIND ‘ that has anti-Country parameters /because it straight up fuckin’ manifests the american military from all across its history-/

Columbia is just... a big country mom. who can grow to the size of the statue of liberty. whoops. 

[[LINK TO HER INTRO CHAPTER IN MY FANSERVANT FIC]]

--

Thomas Edison (True) (Caster(?))

BASTARD MAN. BASTARD. This Thomas Edison, though being initially called an Alter, is actually the True manifestation of the ‘Wizard of Menlo Park’ without the influence of so many presidential heroic spirits. To match Tesla, he’s a 5*. I have him as Caster but... that’s still up in the air, tbh. 

He will steal your Noble Phantasm and claim it as his own. It’s actually one of his Skills- ‘Intellectual Copyright’. It blocks an enemy's ability to use their Noble Phantasm, sealing it for a length of time, while also buffing Edison in return- the strength of the buff received is proportionate to the strength of the sealed Noble Phantasm. This embodies Edison's habit of taking other people's ideas for his own, and while he often improved upon them, he still claimed them as solely his creations. He can copy the abilities of others and shape them to his own needs, always at the ready with a lawsuit in hand if anyone dare complain!

He is not allowed around Ivan or Ganesha due to his history with elephants and electrocution.

His Noble Phantasm (he may have more than one, he gets VERY shifty when asked) is a manifestation of his most terrible and deadly creation- the electric chair. He can also create a reality marble of a fantastical Menlo Park, a thriving center of innovation and invention, using his Territory Creation. 

Did I mention he’s a bastard? God, he’s a bastard. He’s incredibly intelligent BUT HE IS A BASTARD. He’s Evil alignment (arguably, may be Chaotic Netural-). It pains Tesla to admit that he actually likes normal Edison (furry man) much more. 

Ask him what he did to Louie Le Prince and he’ll sock you in the jaw and take off running (and also not answer). 

--

Nicolas Flamel (Caster)

The Alchemist, the great and immortal Nicolas Flamel himself. He’s a sad old lanky Frenchman DILF dad who misses his wife a lot, and is always ready to throw hands with Merlin and/or Paracelsus. He’s a potential candidate for the Grand Caster class, but is behind Solomon and Merlin in ‘line’.  Flamel was a successful French scribe who would gain a reputation as an alchemist after his death in 1418- or at least, his presumed death. He was rumored to have been successful in his creation of the Philosopher's Stone, an artifact with the ability to transmute base metals, and with it was able to create a way to achieve immortality. This Stone was his magnum opus, and he was the first to successfully create it- a fact he makes sure that Paracelsus is aware of at all times.

Also, much like Merlin, he’s not a true Servant. This is THE Nicolas Flamel. But... what happened to Perenelle, his wife? He does not like to talk about it.

He enjoys peace and quiet, educated debate, and reading. Flamel gets on quite well with his fellow Frenchman Dantes, as well as with Waver/El Meloi. 

THE DRAGONS OF FLAMEL (Skill): Flamel summons a staff of Cadeceus. Carried by the Greek god Hermes in mythology, it is said "...wake the sleeping and send the awake to sleep. If applied to the dying, their death was gentle; if applied to the dead, they returned to life". In the hands of Flamel, it can stun an enemy or counteract the effects of a stun-inducing skill upon an ally. As well as that, it can channel the effects of its corresponding god-named element mercury, able to dissolve many metals like silver and gold at will. However, like mercury, this skill is extremely volatile and prone to backfiring violently on Flamel if overused.

ELIXER OF LIFE (Skill): The ultimate alchemical creation- the solution, part of Flamel's legend, that granted he and his wife immortality. He keeps a small flask of the elixer on him at all times, and can be used in a pinch to heal all of Flamel's physical wounds, or that of a singular ally. However, it is not enough to grant an ally immortality, nor is it enough to heal multiple mortal wounds. The substance takes exactly one week, given the right materials, for Flamel to remake and refill his flask with some of the elixer.

He has two Noble Phantasms, one being ‘The Stone of the Philosphers’, and the other being ‘The Book of Abra-Melin the Mage’.

[[LINK TO HIS INTRO CHAPTER IN MY FANSERVANT FIC ALSO THERES A LATER CHAPTER WHERE HE ATTEMPTS TO THROW HANDS W/ PARACELSUS]]

--

Captain Alfred Bulltop Stormalong (Rider)

Captain Alfred Bulltop Stormalong is, plainly put, pretty much a nautical version of Paul Bunyan. Like Bunyan, he can change his size at will, growing to huge proportions. His giant ship was said to have hinged masts so as not to catch them on the moon, and had a stable of Arabian horses on board for his crew to get from one end of the ship to the other! Stormalong is said to have had a lifelong rivalry with the fabled Kraken- but unfortunately for the legendary sea beast, it got summoned alongside Stormalong and has begrudgingly taken up residence in his hat in a somewhat smaller form.

His main weapon (not drawn) is a ship's anchor he wields like a flail. His pipe is really just for the aesthetic as he can't use it to smoke, but it does blow bubbles! His Noble Phantasm is The Courser and the Kraken (Massive all-enemy damage + stun).

He’s a good boy who loves boats, the water, and clam chowder. 

--

Edgar Allan Poe (Foreigner)

The alcoholic author himself, Edgar Allan Poe is a Foreigner-class servant, being linked with the King in Yellow- Hastur the Unspeakable.

Sometimes you can find him locked in a tiny pitch-black closet with Dantes and Sherlock, all three of them puffing away in utter silence on their tobacco. Hastur most often takes the form of a multi-eyed raven chillin’ on his shoulder, and is capable of speech- if prodded, he will shit-talk the patrons of Poe’s fellow foreigners. He really doesn’t like Cthulhu and Yog, even if Poe has psuedo-adopted Abby, WHOOPS. Hastur, to his credit, is the least malevolent Elder God/patron in Chaldea- though if he is seen chatting with Moriarty by any servants or staff, Master must be alerted immediately.

True to form, he’s very macabre, with a unique dramatic way of speaking much like his writings. He’s unsettling and creepy, but has impeccable manners and likes to chat (he’s very lonely-). He enjoys a good mystery, and is prepared to find Arthur Conan Doyle if he be a heroic spirit and beating the snot out of him for treating Holmes so poorly- Poe was the inventor of the detective fiction genre, after all. Most of skills manifest visually as references to his most famous works. His NP is ‘ A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM : THE CRY OF THE YELLOW RAVEN, NEVERMORE ‘ 

He doesn’t know what a ‘Hot Topic’ is, but it sounds intriguing!

And no, he doesn’t know what the hell was up with his death either. Weird shit happens in Boston.

[justanotherone16]

He pressed send. And then he waited. The extreme tedium of simply waiting was not something that Mycroft Holmes could tolerate. His brother’s erratic behaviour and inability to accept the normalities of every day life was well known, and indeed Mycroft’s unwillingness to play along with the inane and mundane of ‘normality’ could well be inferred. Few people, however, successfully inferred or recognised that Mycroft’s consequent impatience manifested as restlessness too.

Dr Watson would surely come. He always does. Mycroft drummed his fingers rhythmically on the black folder that rested upon his lap. In times gone by Sherlock didn’t have a Dr Watson that Mycroft could go to with sensitive information, or emotional conundrums. No, in times gone by, he just had to take it straight to his brother. All things considered the widening of the tiny pocket of trust around Sherlock was a good thing; there was considerably less chaos.

A thick film of fog choked London, almost Dickensian in its persistence to blanket the city. November was in full swing and the days were drawing in rapidly. Today, the fog and the biting, piercing cold only served to cheer on the early darkness, that was knocking at the door in spite of it being just 15:42.

Mycroft was so lost in his pondering that he was somewhat startled when the car door opened suddenly and the familiar figure of John Watson ducked into the car and settled next to him.

The scent of winter air clung to John’s coat and his cheeks were rosy with cold. He rubbed his hands together in a feeble attempt to warm them.

“I hope you’ve planned at a stop at a coffee shop, I’m freezing my bollocks off” John joked as leaned back into his seat and blew hot air in between his hands.

Mycroft pushed the small red button near his window which rang through to the driver. “The closest Nero please.”

The car pulled away slowly and joined the chaos of the London afternoon traffic. “I didn’t expect you to agree, should I be worried?” John asked lightly.

Mycroft didn’t speak, he just opened the folder in his lap, which had been fulfilling a singularly percussive purpose while he had been awaiting John’s arrival. Mycroft took 3 separate pieces of paper and passed them wordlessly to John.

John’s brow furrowed as he scrutinised the contents, trying to understand the context. “Okay so three dead men... yeah I don’t get it. Why are you showing me these?”

Mycroft took a deep breath, placed the folder on the seat beside him. “Jonathan Callaghan, Zachary Noble and Jack Sharpe. Long-term heroin addicts that Sherlock has had previous associations with. All overdosed on Tuesday evening.”

“Shit... how?” John shook his head as he perused the documents, wincing inwardly at the photographs.

“Their heroin was laced with a fatally high level of fentanyl. It would seem that the quality of heroin circulating the streets of London is categorically unsafe.” Mycroft gave John a knowing look.

“I don’t think he’s using”.

“No, he isn’t. I would know”. Mycroft assured John.

John put the paper down and turned to face the elder Holmes. He was balding quickly now; ageing fast.

“Right so, why are you telling me?” John asked.

Mycroft rubbed his face with his left hand and when he spoke, there was more than a hint of resignation. “Because Sherlock will hear of these deaths soon, and more I should imagine. Many of his homeless network will fall victim to this. And... Jonathan in particular, was quite close to Sherlock, well about as close as anyone could get to him during this time of his life. Jonathan saved his life three times. Once he personally provided mouth to mouth and administered adrenaline that I had provided him with. The other two occasions he called me, even on pain of death from Sherlock. I... well I will always be grateful that Jonathan was with Sherlock in those... instances.”

John was sat dumb struck. That was a lot to take in; a great deal to unpack, with a man who rarely paused long enough to unpack anything.

“So, Sherlock will be upset? I’ve never heard him mention any of them, or Jonathan?” John tried.

“I should think so... He rarely discusses his past with drugs, I think because the regret, shame and fear of the power it had over him is too much. But, I do fear when he finds out he will be somewhat aggrieved. I don’t believe he will seek out drugs to cope with that, given what he will know about the chemical composition. But I can never be sure with Sherlock. And when I saw, saw these photos of these men. Men I have interacted with, men who have saved my brother’s life on more than one occasion- dead... I can’t help but picture, in my worst nightmare, Sherlock in the same state. This news will come to him. Not from me, probably not from you. But he will hear. And once again Doctor Watson I must ask you to look after him. Please.” Mycroft’s voice was uncharacteristically small. The pain of the past and anxiety for the future swam in his eyes.

“Of course I will look after him. Always. Although, for all of Sherlock’s complaining it doesn’t sound like you’ve done such a bad job yourself. In these kinds of conversations, I am increasingly surprised that Sherlock was alive to meet me.” John lowered his voice too. He didn’t see eye to eye with Mycroft and he never would. And there were half a million things that John wanted to tear into Mycroft for. But the care he had for his brother was clear and unrivalled.

“Thank you, John.” Mycroft smiled weakly.

John smiled grimly in return. “So alongside being there for Sherlock and keeping an eye out. You know he will pursue this. Try to find the source and stamp it out?”

Mycroft nodded and took a long sharp breath. “Yes I know. And I’m sure he will be successful. I’m primarilh concerned at how he will take the passing of Jonathan, Zachary, and Jack. You know... He went back to find them once he had gotten clean himself, for his longest period of sobriety, not long before he met you. He offered to fund their own rehabs. All three men declined of course. For various personal reasons.”

John was consistently surprised at what he did not know about Sherlock. While the pair of them virtually ignored the swathes of Sherlock’s life that were taken up by being high and shooting up, the effects and associated risks seemed to lurk everywhere.

“Perhaps I should tell him? Tell him what you’ve told me so that we have some control of the situation?” John asked.

“No. Sherlock won’t appreciate the idea that I am soundboarding you. If you must bring it up. Tell him only that I had made you aware of the lethality of heroin currently for sale in London and nothing else.” Mycroft firmly answered.

The car stopped outside a cafe Nero and the driver got out of the car, locked it, and strode into the shop to order coffee.

“When Henry returns with your coffee, walk back to Baker Street. Sherlock will assume you got the Metropolitan line at 4pm.” Mycroft said conspiratorially.

John nodded and defaulted to silently waiting for the driver to return with his coffee. “Are you okay Mycroft?” John asked seriously.

“Me? Yes of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

John just eyeballed Mycroft, trying to the best of his ability to convey a ‘don’t be dense, I’m not fucking stupid’ sentiment in response.

Mycroft stood down his defences and sighed. “Yes, I am okay. Just, let me know how Sherlock is. And... I’ll, well I’ll thank our lucky stars that Sherlock did live past 30. And have a quiet toast to Jonathan Callaghan, who saved my brother 3 times and deserved far more than he got in life. That’s your coffee John. Don’t worry, it’s decaf, soya milk, one vanilla syrup shot. Text me if you need anything.”

A steaming cup of coffee was passed back to John. He couldn’t help but notice the Christmas theme on the cup- that time already?!

“Right, yes, yeah. Thanks for the coffee and, um take care. I’ll be in touch.” John said climbing out of the car, the chill in the air swiping at him as he did so.

[honeypiehotchner]

Trust -- part four

I swear I have absolutely no self-control. Here’s another part.

I wasn’t going to update this story again until Tuesday, but then I just finished part five, so I decided I’d post this tonight. I like to always be one step ahead in the writing process than I am in updating on here. That’s both a good and a bad thing.

I know things you don’t know hehe

Warnings: Language? I guess? The f-bomb is used many a time in this chapter, but other than that, just some sadness.

The morgue at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital in London is Sherlock’s home away from home, you decide. Especially when upon walking in, a young woman addresses him by name.

           “Sherlock!” She beams. She obviously works here judging by her lab coat and her hair pulled back in a pony tail. “Hi John! And—who’s this?”

           “Oh, Molly this is Y/N L/N, Y/N this is Molly Hooper,” John introduces you.

           You smile, offering a wave. She returns the gesture, and you can hear the question she’s going to ask before it even comes out of her mouth.

           “Are you…John’s…you know, girlfriend?”

           You let out a loud laugh, probably too loud to be in a morgue, so you quiet down as quickly as possible. “No, no. I’m his half-sister.”

           “Sister!” Molly grins, surprised. You see her give John an almost offended look. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

           “Yeah…” John nods. “Me either.”

           “I’m his half-sister,” you explain. “We just met a few days ago.”

           Finally understanding, Molly nods, dropping the subject and going over to the body that you guys are here to examine. She carefully pulls back the sheet, revealing the man’s face. He’s still in his clothes, which is odd, but then when Molly begins explaining everything, you understand.

           “He was just brought in. I haven’t even done the paperwork yet. This one must be really important—”

           You stopped listening halfway through Molly’s nervous ramble – you know she fancies Sherlock; you saw it when you walked in, but you can’t focus on that right now. Because your eyes locked on the face of the man lying in front of you the second she revealed it.

It can’t be.

Absolutely not. You’ve met a lot of people. It has to be a coincidence, just someone who looks like him – eerily like him. That’s all.

           It takes John a second to realize you’ve gone frightfully still, but once he does, his older brother side immediately comes out.

           “Y/N?” He steps closer, his hand on your arm. “What is it?”

           “Fuck,” is all you say. Then again. “Fuck.” You turn around, pushing your hand into your hair and stepping out of John’s grasp. “Fuck!” You would know his face anywhere.

           Even Sherlock stands from examining the body to give you a strange look.

           “Fuck. Fuck.”

           “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

           “No, no, no, no. Tony, fuck. Tony, come on.” You try to remember the last time you spoke to the agent. It’s been weeks since he’s texted. Weeks since you left him. “Shit, my God.”

           John gives up on trying to get your attention, instead standing still with the other two people in the morgue, all three of them giving you wide-eyed looks.

           Sherlock narrows his eyes first, studying your behavior as you turn back around, your eyes avoiding Tony’s body on the table. It’s obvious you knew the man, but Sherlock senses there’s something more there. And if he were to voice that deduction, you’d tell him to fuck off.

           Even if he is right.

           Your hand shakes as you pull out your phone, quickly dialing Allen’s number from memory, hoping you’ve got it right.

           “Hello?”

           “Thank God. Allen, hi. It’s Y/N. Listen, have you—”

           “What the fuck do you want? I got a call saying your charges are all cleared, you lucky bastard, so I don’t wanna fuckin’—”

           “For Christ’s sake, if I wanted a lecture from you I would’ve come to visit your office.”

           “I’m sure I can find something else to arrest you for—”

           “Just shut up, alright? I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t have to. It’s important.”

           “Well, out with it!”

           I was trying to, you want to snap, but don’t. “Have you spoken to Agent Whitaker recently?” Please say you talked to him two minutes ago, please, for fuck’s sake—

           “Tony? He’s been off on vacation for a week – hey, why the fuck do you care?”

           You sigh, closing your eyes. Allen. The father figure to Tony, who might as well have been Tony’s actual father since his actual father couldn’t be bothered to care about him. You should’ve known when you left that Allen would be more pissed with you than anyone else. Allen always thought you were trouble – trouble for him because he was the head of the agency, and trouble for his boy because he saw the heart eyes Tony had for you the second you met him. He was the first to see the problem, but Tony saw past it, and eventually, because of that, Allen started to, as well. You should’ve known when you left it would only confirm what he already thought in his head about you from the day you met him.

You open your eyes, ignoring the worried glances coming from John and Molly. “Because I think I’m looking at him right now.”

           “What the fuck are you goin’ on about?”

           “I’m in a fucking morgue, Allen,” you hiss, ignoring the shocked looks from John, Sherlock, and Molly. A first.

           “What the fuck? Where are you?”

           “London,” you reply evenly. “Does he have anything to identify him? A tattoo or something? Hang on—I’ll put you on speaker.” You pause. “Okay, go. We’re listening.”

           “‘We’re’? Who’s—Never mind. You’ve held his hand, smart one. Look at his hand. He should have a tattoo. A number eight.”

           Hand holding, Sherlock notes. Something to do with sentiment, so there was, in fact, something more.

           “Where on his left hand?” You ask, nodding to John who steps forward to check. You already know this. But you don’t want it to be him, please, God, don’t let it—

           “On his fucking hand, where else—” You can hear the panic rising in Allen’s voice as he continues rambling on, a mix of gripes toward you and gripes about this being absurd because Tony was just taking a break. But Tony never takes breaks, you remember. And you knew this would be hard for Allen to believe. Tony Whitaker was Allen’s best undercover agent. The absolute best man he had.

           You hear John sigh heavily, holding up the man’s left hand. There, on the skin between his thumb and index finger, is a black, number eight tattoo.

           You remember it. You remember running your thumb over it as you held his hand. You blink back the tears, not wanting to cry right now – and feeling foolish for even wanting to. What you two had – it was never supposed to mean anything. You both knew that and made that agreement.

           “He has the tattoo, Allen,” you say quietly. “Between his thumb and index finger.”

           You hear Allen let out his own heavy sigh, and the silence that follows makes you wonder if the line has disconnected. But then, like he was searching for words and couldn’t find them, all he says is, “Can you send me a picture?”

           “A picture?” You snap. “Of a dead man?”

           “You’ve done worse,” he snaps. “I just want to be sure it’s not some lunatic with the same tattoo.”

           “I don’t think it is,” you mutter, but you move to take a picture anyway, shuddering at the idea. You hit send. “It’s sent. Did you get it?”

           “Well give me a second to look.”

           You chuckle. Even though he’s arrested you three times and absolutely despises you because you managed to escape all three times (Tony helped you escape, and you know Allen knows that), he has always been amused by you. He’ll never admit that, of course, and neither will you. You’ll both continue this act of bickering and hating one another for as long as you can. You remember it used to annoy the shit out of Tony, that you and Allen could never quite get along.

           “That’s him,” Allen suddenly replies. You see John hang his head, probably hearing the despair in Allen’s voice. “Shit, Tony,” he mutters, forgetting he’s on the phone for a moment. “What the fuck did you get yourself into?” You know the question isn’t directed at you, which makes the tight feeling in your chest worse.

           “I’m sorry,” you murmur. “What do you want me to do?”

           Allen chuckles darkly, no doubt holding back tears. “What can you do?”

           “We’re gonna figure out what happened to him,” you reply, determination taking over. “I’m with Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson right now.”

           “Those two?” Allen perks up. “Alright.”

           “You’ve heard of us?” John asks.

           “Hell yeah, I’ve heard of you boys,” Allen replies like it should be obvious. “If there’s anyone I want figuring this one out, it’s you two.”

           “Well, thank you,” John suddenly turns bashful, but you’re glad he’s at least replying since Sherlock is too busy examining Tony further. “We’re going to figure this out.”

           You smile fondly, glad John is on your side – you know Sherlock is, too, but he’s preoccupied, as usual. “Can we call you back later to talk more?”

           “I’ll do you one better,” Allen pauses. “I think I should come to London.”

           “Are you sure?” You ask, pulling the phone off speaker and pressing it to your ear. You turn to walk away a little, suddenly feeling sick. “I mean, do you want to risk it?”

           “Risk what?”

           “Oh, I don’t know,” you nearly roll your eyes. “Your best agent has just been found dead. Did it ever occur to you that whatever killed him could be after you?”

           “Is that concern I hear?”

           You pinch the bridge of your nose, not exactly in the mood for this. “Fine. Come to London if you want. But if your ass gets killed, don’t blame me.”

           You hang up the call, stuffing your phone back into your pocket. You lean your head against the wall, taking a deep breath. Shit, Tony. Shit is right. What shit did he get himself into? What the hell was he doing in London?

           You don’t have time to wonder about that right now. You really don’t want to even think about it.

           You lean back, rubbing your forehead tiredly. You hear footsteps behind you, and you’re right to assume it’s John.

           “Are you okay?”

           You decide to be honest. “No.”

           You hear him chuckle, but it’s not humorous. It’s sad. A sad chuckle – something you do as well that you always thought was inappropriate, must be a Watson trait. Even if your mom despised the name and the man that fathered you (even though you know she still loved him until the day she died), meeting John has changed your perception of who a Watson is. John has set a good example. You don’t mind being a half-Watson as much.

           “I’m sorry.”

           “Thank you,” you offer a small smile when you turn around.

           “Uh, Sherlock is gonna run some tests and go to his mind palace if you want to head back to the flat.”

           “I’m sorry, his what?”

           “Oh,” John does laugh this time. “His mind palace. He—It’s like a map. He stores facts in different spots and he can go back and visit them at any time. In his palace.”

           You give Sherlock a look, finding that he has his eyes closed, hands already steepled at his chin. “It would be a palace for him, wouldn’t it?” You shake your head. “Can we do something else? Sitting around doesn’t sound good for me right now.”

           John nods, understanding, and thankfully not prying, even though you know he wants to. “What do you want to do?”

           You think it over for a moment. What you really want to do is scale a building or two, maybe jump from here to there, but you know John wouldn’t be up for that. He, knowing him as you do now, probably wouldn’t want you doing it anyway, so you make a mental note to remind yourself not to tell him if you ever do that one night. He’ll only worry more than he already does.

           Then, it hits you. “My trip to the record store was cut short earlier,” you offer, a little dazed at the fact that going to the record store, having a chat with Mycroft, listening to Sherlock play violin while you read, visiting a crime scene and running into Lestrade again, and coming to the morgue all happened today.

           “Alright,” John nods, accepting. “Let’s go.”

           “Bye Molly!” You wave with a smile. “It was nice meeting you.”

           “You too!” She gushes, walking closer to not disturb Sherlock as much. Oh, she fancies him like crazy, you smirk. “I hope I’ll be seeing you around more often. And I’m really sorry about your friend.” She pauses, fishing her phone out of her lab coat. “What’s your number?”

           You gladly give it to her, bringing out your own device to put her number in. John smiles at the interaction, glad to see you making a friend. You’ll admit it does feel rather weird. The number of friends you have always dwindles after you leave one place, so right now you have Molly (you guess) and John. You would mention Sherlock, but it’s clear to you he doesn’t have friends – and he hardly seems amused enough with you to be a friend. It’s a work in progress.

After you and Molly finish exchanging numbers, you give her a hug – she’s the sweetest person you’ve met, sorry, John – before you set out with John to give Sherlock his space.

 ~~~

You let out a sigh of relief when you step back into the record store, but if Mycroft interrupts you again, you already plan to tell him off.

           Going back to the crate of B’s, you start from the beginning, since you didn’t get very far earlier anyway. John moves to stand next to you, going through the crate of A’s. You try to ignore it, but it must be some stupid sibling thing, because you can sense John’s emotions more than anyone else. You don’t know if it’s because he feels so much, or if it is being his sibling, but it’s rather annoying.

           He’s worrying. And it’s so loud.

           “So…Lestrade arrested you last year?”

           There it is. The beginning of the small talk. You nod. You’ll entertain him. “Well, he had an arrest warrant. I don’t think he ever got as far as really arresting me. He tried to.”

           “And?”

           “I refused,” you shrug. “There was no sign that said I couldn’t play guitar on the roof of that building.”

           “What building?”

           “It was a bank, I think.”

           John stops going through the records to give you an incredulous look. “You scaled a bank and played guitar on the roof?”

           You chuckle, shaking your head at yourself. “While the sun rose. It was so peaceful. You should’ve seen it.”

           “Y/N.”

           “Hm?” You raise your eyebrows.

           “You can’t just scale buildings like that.”

           You shake your head with a laugh. “See, this is why I didn’t say anything. I knew I’d get a protective older brother speech from you.”

           “It’s not a speech—”

           You give him a look.

           He sighs. “Just. Stay away from rooftops, okay?”

           “Why?” You snicker. “You got something against feeling the wind in your hair and looking down on a city?”

           “Sherlock fell from a roof,” he pauses, taking in a deep breath. “So I have a bit of a problem with rooftops.”

           “Oh…” You nod. You weren’t expecting that. “How did that happen?”

           “It’s a very long story,” he shakes his head, staring down at the vinyl records in front of him. “And it’s in the past.”

           “You know, you can’t ask me questions about my life and then avoid the questions I ask you.”

           He looks up to meet your eyes with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to talk about it right now.”

           “Fair enough,” you nod, returning to flicking through the records. You find 1 by The Beatles and smile, holding it up. “There she is.”

           “Is that your favorite?”

           “Of course,” you smile, moving to put it back.

           But John stops you. “I’ll get it for you.”

           You smile almost out of instinct, because you don’t realize it at first. “I have money, but thank you.” You pause, staring down at the record. “I don’t even have a record player,” you say, but it’s more of a code for I never buy myself anything, so I probably won’t buy this anyway.

           He hesitates, thinking something over. “I’m sure they sell them here.”

           “What? You want me to buy a record player?”

           He shrugs. “Why not?”

           “Right,” you chuckle. You forget for him – and every normal being, probably – that buying something you want, if you have the funds, is the almost obvious solution.

           John can tell something new is troubling you, and it only takes him a second to remember the conversation you both had a few days ago. I don’t have…stuff. I’ve always gone without. He still grimaces at the idea of you only having one outfit which included shoes two sizes too small, and no personal belongings whatsoever – not even a favorite blanket or a bag. Just a phone and the clothes on your back.

           No wonder you’re hesitant about buying yourself a vinyl and a record player. You’ve literally never had the option. You’ve never had the funds, or a place to call your own where you could keep said belongings.

           “You know you can purchase it,” he pauses, not wanting to sound like he’s prying, but he kind of is. “You have a flat now.”

           “Right,” you say again, this time turning to look at him. “Is it bad that I sometimes forget that I do?”

           His gaze turns sad, but he shakes his head. “Not bad. Just know that you do have it. And you’ve got me.”

           You offer him a small smile, this feeling – having a flat and having a friend, a half-brother – is the most foreign feeling you’ve ever felt. Not uncomfortable, but just new. You’re not used to any of this at all.

           “You said you have money?” John asks, switching subjects to bring you back around.

           You nod, humming, “Mycroft.”

           “Right,” he scoffs. “Are you really going to tell him the truth about what Sherlock does?”

           “Christ, no,” you laugh, laying The Beatles record next to you. “That’s boring.”

           “So…what are you gonna tell him?”

           “Oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something,” you let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you think they have any Paul Anka here?”

           “Who?”

           “You’re right,” you wander over to the Q crate. “Queen would be a better pick – ah! A Night At The Opera. The best album.” You turn back, picking up The Beatles record, too. “Do you think they have any classical?”

           John snorts. “Just listen to Sherlock play if you want that stuff.”

           “Right,” you nod, entirely serious. “I’m sure he’ll play enough of that. No need to waste money on a record.”

           John furrows his eyebrows, but doesn’t have time to argue with you before you’ve wandered off again. He isn’t sure what’s gotten into to you, and you aren’t sure either. But you think it has something to do with your fingers grazing over Tony’s favorite album of all time earlier. Desperado. The Eagles.

           You try to move past it, but then your eyes fall on the single version of “Desperado” that is on the wall and you freeze. You can’t seem to get away from it, from reminders about Tony.

           “Y/N?” John walks over behind you, looking to where your eyes are fixed. “What is it?”

           You reach out and hold the record in your hands, a shuddering sigh leaving your lips as your thumbs rub over the plastic. “Tony used to sing this,” you whisper. “I’d play…and he’d sing.”

           “Oh, Y/N,” John sighs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I am so sorry.”

           You nod, not answering him. You put “Desperado” back, slipping from John grasp to return to the crate of E’s. You think this must be a sign, or you would if you believed in that kind of stuff. But regardless, you pick out Desperado, adding it to your collection.

           You owe it to Tony to buy this. And to play “Desperado” one last time.

           “I think I’m just gonna start with these three for now,” you murmur, looking up at John. It feels odd even saying that you’ll start with these. Like you’ll be back to buy more.

“Okay.” He nods solemnly, hating the look that you have on your face. He remembers once hearing Molly say something about looking sad when you think no one is watching, and it only makes him wonder how deep the hurt has to be for someone to not be able to mask the sadness when they know someone is watching.

~~~

John carries the record player while you carry your three vinyl records. You wanted to protest, but decided against it after remembering that your shoulder would only hate you if you tried carrying the player yourself. It hasn’t been right since the accident.

           Reaching your flat, you pull the keys out of your pants pocket, unlocking the door and stepping inside. You see John’s look of surprise with how empty your living room is, even though he tries to hide it because he has been trying to get better about letting your lack of stuff not bother him as much – since you prefer it this way, after all.

           But after four days of sitting on the floor, you do think one chair couldn’t hurt. Or maybe a beanbag, or something.

           “You can plug it in over there,” you gesture to the plug against the far wall. You really want to be left alone, but you know he wants to help, so you let him do this small thing for you.

           After he finishes, he stands with a proud – but you see the sadness underneath it – smile. “What are you gonna play first?”

           “I don’t know,” you breathe. “If I’m honest…today has been a lot. I think I’m gonna go take a nap.”

           “Okay,” he nods, understanding that’s his cue to leave. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

           You offer a smile. “Thank you.”

           “No problem,” he replies, walking over to the door. He stops halfway, giving you a sympathetic look. “I’m just upstairs if you need me.”

           You falter for a second, not used to anyone saying if you need me to you at all. The assumption is always that you’re fine on your own (granted, that is true) and you’ve also never had anyone around who cared enough. “Okay. Thank you.”

           “Yeah,” he nods. You can tell he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. He opens your door, giving you one last, fleeting, worried glance before stepping out and shutting the door behind him.

           Hearing the door shut is almost your cue. The tears well in your eyes. The tension releases from your shoulders. The numbness settles in.

           You almost crumple to the floor right then, but you force yourself to walk to the record player. You sit down against the wall next to the box, sliding the three records you bought over to you. You grab Desperado, pulling the record out of its sleeve.

           You sigh as you place the needle in the correct spot to play “Desperado,” the music flooding the room a second later.

           As soon as the piano begins, the tears fall down your face. And they seem to do that the entire night.

[thorne93]

Curious Conundrum (Part 24)

Prompt: You’re John Watson’s sister. One day you decide to visit your brother for lunch, only to meet the infamous Mr. Holmes…

Word Count: 1468

Warnings: language, flirtation, sexual innuendos (maybe? idfk), murder/crime/case related stuff, angst, jealousy…

Notes: Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong Not only did she beta, but I literally couldn’t have written half these scenes without her help. She contributed majorly, even wrote some parts of scenes. I am forever in her debt.

Also, this starts AFTER Season 2, episode 1. I don’t follow all the episodes, but it does follow the timeline and hit some major events : )

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 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 |

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As with all things in life, the things you want to focus on took a backseat. John and Mary were engaged, and they were planning their wedding. In a horrible attempt, John asked Sherlock to be his best man. And to your great shock, Mary asked you to be Maid of Honor.

“Me? Why me?” you asked, perplexed. You knew Mary had a few close girl friends that she could’ve chosen.

She put her arm through yours as the two of you walked along the shops. “Because you’re John’s sister, I really like you, and not to mention, if I don’t make you Maid of Honor, then some other woman has to walk down the aisle with Sherlock.”

This thought hadn’t occurred to you, but now that it had, your blood started to bubble.

You grinned widely at her and said, “I think you’re going to be a great addition to the family.”

At this, she laughed merrily and the two of you went into shop after shop where she tried on probably a hundred dresses. You liked Mary, always had. Well, at first, of course you were skeptical, she was dating your big brother after all. But you could see the effect she had on him, a way she had with him. She was compassionate, yet stern. Something you think John needed in his life.

The two of you had become pretty good friends, in the few times she had stopped by to check on you during your dark time. Sometimes she came with John, watching after you. Other times she came on her own on her way from work. But either way, it was an incredibly sweet gesture, seeing as most people don’t go try to check in on their boyfriend’s little sister when she’s depressed. But Mary wasn’t like most people. She was kind-hearted and forgiving, but not a woman to be reckoned with and you really liked that about her.

After you and Mary had finished, she still hadn’t found a dress. You assured her the look wasn’t over and her dream dress was out there somewhere. You launched into full on Maid of Honor mode as you worked with her to see what all she still needed to get done. You asked her what she wanted John's help with and what she wanted your help with.

So far, it seemed she and John would pick his tux, their rings, the church, the reception, and the food. That left the dress, veil, accessories, shoes, flowers, decorations, and the bridal party attire.

With all of this, you focused on your real job and the wedding, trying to be at John and Mary’s every beck and call. If it was any other time, it would’ve been fine, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you realized this was bad. Being Mary’s Maid of Honor gave you an excuse to avoid Sherlock. Trying to wiggle out of hanging out, helping on cases, coming to his apartment to spend the night. You always gave an excuse that you were either surfing the web for tips, shopping online, or putting together lists.

You couldn’t help but be prone to not want to be around him. Being around him hurt almost as much as when you thought you’d never see him again. Something about those haunting blue crystal eyes, those long fingers, that notorious coat, his dark curls -- something about them turned your stomach when you saw him. Anxiety and fear would rip through you every time.

One day, this would be a dream. One day, you’d wake up in an asylum, realizing you’d finally snapped. One day, he’d really be gone and your poor heart would just stop beating.

Sherlock continued to try though, he kept pushing slightly. He wanted to give you your space, but he worried if he let up too much, you would feel like he’d disappeared again. So he kept at it, reminding you constantly that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere. Yet, while he was continuing to try and push you, he had his own Best Man duties he had to attend to, which just caused the chasm to grow even further.

Moving in together had even been put on hold because you weren’t ready to leap just yet, and finding the time to do all of that would’ve been impossible. At least until Mary and you were out looking for her dress once more, after you’d looked at flowers, centerpieces, table cloths, and chosen the wine to be served.

The saleswoman was fussing over Mary’s train as she eyed herself in the mirror, then you as you walked around her, assessing how it fit her body.

“Just think, Y/N, this might be you someday!” she said with a giddy grin.

At first, you had no idea how to respond. Marriage? The thought had crossed your mind before Sherlock’s little… event, but now… you could hardly stay in the same room without feeling anxious. It’s not that you didn’t want to. When you thought about it -- Sherlock in a tux, waiting for you at the end of some aisle, all your friends and family there, it sounded quite nice. Even fast forwarding through domestic living. The two of you working cases, solving crimes, helping the justice system just to come home to each other. Someone to lean on… Well, isn’t that what anyone wanted in life? Someone to love and be loved?

You laughed softly. “I’m not sure Sherlock’s the marriage type,” you noted. He had already made leaps and bounds to even date you, then kiss, then have sex. Marriage might be asking too much of the poor man.

“I think any man is marriage material if they find the right girl.”

“I suppose,” you hummed.

“Speaking of, how’s the moving in going?” she asked.

“Moving in? I--uh--”

Shit, you forgot you told her.

“You haven’t started yet have you?” she asked and the saleswoman stepped away to grab something.

“Well… I…” you began feebly, no excuse coming to your head.

“Y/N,” she began in that motherly, chastising way she had. “You can’t put it off forever.”

“I don’t want to. I just… I need time.”

She pressed her lips in a line, nodding before she hugged you. “I’m not going to tell you or make you do anything you aren’t ready for, but I also feel like I should remind you that the man is trying. The least you can do is try to meet him in the middle.”

You nodded. “I know.”

“So what’s got you hesitant? Do you think you don’t love him any more or?”

You shook your head. “That’s not it. I love him too much. I’m just scared that… well that I’ll get too close again and he’ll hurt me again.”

She bobbed her head understandingly before she took your hand. “Marriage is unpredictable. You don’t know what challenges lie ahead, what obstacles you have to face, but knowing you’ll have someone by your side to face them with makes it all worth it. The nerves, the anxiousness, the worry, it’s all worth it in the end. So I want you to think about the fact that life is short, and if you spend all this time pushing him away, you may wish you had never done it in the first place.”

Your head hung at her words, chewing your lips.

“I’m not trying to talk you into staying with him, or moving in, or anything of the sort,” she continued, peering at you gently. “I just don’t want to watch you two miss your chance. You’re a lot like John, you let the pain of your past stop your happiness of the future. Take it from me, you don’t want to do that. You don’t want to live in the past. It never does anyone any good.”

“You’re too wise,” you remarked with a slight laugh.

“You’re about the only one who thinks so,” she joked lightly.

But her words sunk in to you, deep. They dropped anchor and latched on. She was right. All of this pushing Sherlock away had only been hurting the two of you, the last thing you wanted to do.

After going through all these beautiful and sentimental things for the wedding, you’d been pushing down bubbling feelings for Sherlock. You’d forgotten how happy it had made you to see him after a long day, or how thrilled you were the first time you kissed, or how euphoric your nights could be with him.

You didn’t want to forget any more, you didn’t want to dwell anymore. You wanted to live, in the present, with Sherlock.  

You decided to go home that evening, and start packing, ready for a new life, a new chapter with Sherlock.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[notgonnarememberthis]

Beautiful- Chapter 2

Heyo I return with a plan/news for once in my life.

1. In regards to the fic my plan is to build up more of a relationship between Joan and Sherlock in between scenes and once we get to the present will begin the “real” narrative of the fic. 

2. In regards to how damn long this took to come out I am really sorry but I just got super tangled up in a massive shit storm of writer’s block. On top of that my grandma visited from Arizona and my brother’s baseball team has had 2 tournaments in the meantime (one of them being a week long tournament 4 hours from home) and I don’t miss games. 

September 27, 2012

Sherlock hadn’t stopped pacing since the end of the excursions. He’d checked his email on the progress of a cold case he was looking into on the matter of longitude and latitude correlating with the placement of bodies from a serial killer. Of course he’d stumbled past an email from his father regarding a sober companion coming to pick him up from the rehabilitation center. Underneath was the provided information on the woman who would now be living in the same house with him for the next six weeks.

What his father had failed to know that approximately thirteen years ago he’d met a woman of the same first name and coming occupation in the bar and proceeded to sleep with her that same night. He’d escaped in the morning without rousing her scribbling a quick hangover remedy on a post it before making off with all of his possessions.

He doesn’t remember the full evening as he got regrettably wasted. He still remembers vivid details though. The feeling of her dark hair running over the back of his hand, the freckles dusted like constellations across her skin, her moaning his pseudonym.

Surely there were other Joans studying to become a surgeon in New York. He runs the possibilities through his brain. Records showed that this Joan had lived in the state since birth so moving from far away wasn’t an option. Chances still could be likely though.

Briefly he hears shuffling from the other room. His previous partner must’ve awaken. He should probably warn her that he’d left the curtains open… He checks the clock observing it to be about 11:56 a.m. Well whatever poor sap was home sick or running late would get quite the show.

He thinks quickly flipping on the multiple televisions scattered through the room. If it was her he could test her with a movie playing on one channel. From the stupor of the night he did remember Joan laying her head on his shoulder while some sappy love story droned on in the background. She didn’t fall asleep long after that. The subconscious memory would spark in her eyes revealing if she remembered him or not. If it wasn’t her or perhaps if she didn’t remember then he would appear as a loon who just left rehab without his escort.

“Excuse me Mr-” Of course the voice is familiar. His luck is that his father hires the one ex-surgeon turned sober companion that he’d slept with 13 years ago. He shushes her and pauses all of the screens with one button allowing the woman to continue. “My name is Joan Watson.” Yes he is very very aware and familiar with the name. The woman in front of him is no doubt the one he slept with all those years ago. She doesn’t look like she changed a bit. “Your father hired me to be your sober companion. He told me he was going to email you about me.” He did. “I’m here to make the transition from your rehab experience to your everyday routine as smooth as possible so I’ll be living with you for the next six weeks,” Lovely. “Which means I’ll be available to you 24/7.” Even better.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Her mouth shuts and her eyebrows raise in surprise. “I know what you’re thinking. The world is a cynical place and I must be a cynical man thinking a woman like you could fall for a line like that. Thing is,” He takes a step closer taking away the space she’d so humbly put between the two of them. “It isn’t a line.” He does not stop moving studying her  face for any flashing cues that may give away stimulated memory. “I have never loved anyone as I do you right now in this moment.” Something dark flashes in her eyes.

She’s just about to say something as he unpauses the movie. The actor on the screen repeats the dialogue word for word. She looks between the screen himself before her cheeks flush a lovely shade of red. Embarrassment and shame fill her wonderful features. Ah, so she doesn’t remember. Lovely.

Regardless if she did remember she would’ve known him as Sean rather than Sherlock. The only clue to give away that it was him were some of his tattoos he’d actually had at that age. Joan shuffles to gather the things from her bag that had scattered across the floor in her shock. The woman still appears to be rather shaken even as the monologue ends clutching her bag tight to her chest. Confusion laces her expression. For the better too.

“Spot on.” He says with confidence in his tone. “Sherlock Holmes.” She takes his extended hand shaking it yet her expression remains shocked and a bit apprehensive. He looks her up and down once more for good measure. She’s cleanly dress, well styled too. She’s definitely done well for herself if the designer shoes would say anything. “Please don’t get comfortable. We won’t be long.” He shrugs past her to go gather his shoes and shirt which had been scattered throughout the Brownstone during his earlier… activities.

“Mr. Holmes did your father tell you about me or not?” Frustration laces through her tone. Maybe if he keeps it up she’ll drop the manner and leave.

“Uh…” Ah yes there’s one shoe he’d been looking for. “He emailed. Said to expect some sort of addict sitter.” Distaste spills off his tongue. His father likes to pretend he knows what’s best for him even after all these years.

“Then he explained his conditions with respect to your sobriety.”

“Then you mean his threats to evict me from this; the shoddiest and least renovated of the five, count them, five properties he owns in New York. Then yeah he made his conditions quite clear.” He grabs the other shoe slipping it on. “I use, I wind up on the streets. I refuse your help, I wind up on the street. It’s my understanding that most sober companions are recovering addicts as well.” He studies. “But you’ve never had a problem with drugs or alcohol.” With a quick bounce he;s back on his feet once more.

“Your father told you.” She excuses.

“Of course he didn’t.”

“Well do you care to explain why you broke out of rehab the same day you were being released?”

“Bored.” He answers plainly.

“Your were bored.” She questions half annoyed and half inquisitorial. Maybe she’d make a good test subject. She does ask a lot of questions.

“No I am bored right now.” He corrects. Where the hell did he sling that shirt? “It happens often you’ll get used to it.” He notes as he digs through a hamper to find another shirt. “Regarding your friends at Hemingdale I believe they should be thanking be for exposing flaws in their rubbish security system, wouldn’t you?” He grabs a shirt from the dirty hamper giving it a quick sniff to make sure it is sufficient enough to pass in public without causing a distraction. “Excellent.”

“There was a woman leaving just as I got here.” She says slowly. “Did she get you high?”

“About six feet.” He says rather smugly obtaining his belt from where it hung loosely on the ladder in between a pair of handcuffs. “I actually find sex repellent.” He says. “All those fluids and odd sounds.” For a brief second her head tilts and there is a sparkle in her eyes. He wonders if she’s caught the lie. Well it’s not precisely a lie. Sex in itself is disgusting but the ability to turn off is a rare and exquisite experience when you find someone distracting enough. It was something she’d taught him that night. Something he’d only managed to duplicate with Irene. He shakes his head quickly at the thought abandoning that dangerous path. “My brain and body require them to function at optimum levels so I feed those as needed. You’re a doctor you understand.”

“Uh, I’m not a doctor.” She corrects politely. Ah so something bad happened then.

“Well you were a doctor. Surgeon judging by your hands.” He studies. Though again he’d known this long ago. “Is your car parked near by?”

“Uh, yes it’s just outsi-” She stops in her tracks. He reaches over grabbing his vest off a rack. “Wait how did you know I have a car?”

“Parking ticket.” He says simply. “I saw it in your purse when you dropped it. Can’t have one without the other can you?” He glances at the clock with a frown. Lovely, Gregson wouldn’t be too happy with him. “We’re late. We need to get going.”

“Late for what?” There she goes with those questions again.

He checks his phone without answering her question. “Actually scratch the car. Manhattan bridge is down to single lane. We’ll take the tube instead.” Good it’ll give him a little practice to hone in on profiling before they reach the scene. “Look at this place.” He frowns with disgust. “Yuck. I’ll wait for you to tidy it.”

She glances at him in disbelief anger filling her dark eyes. Good. It shouldn’t take as long as he initially accounted for to rid of her then. He just needs to play his cards right and she’ll be gone. The sooner the better and that goes for the both of them. But she doesn’t leave. He had left and she’d moved out but they both came back. To the Brownstone, to each other. They’d housed Kitty and a pet turtle named Clyde. She’s stayed by his side unknowing of the truth all this time.

July 25, 2014

The first time Sherlock truly sees a crack in Watson’s hard formed walls isn’t until years after their first meeting. It’d been a particularly rainy summer in New York. Odd for the times but it ended up pertaining to a case. For the past 3 years children were disappearing from public places, ranging from ages 5 to 12. They were lured away from parents and drowned a few days after their disappearance. The man would leave the body on the side of the highway with a folded swan on top of their chest. It did not take the media too long after that to oh so cleverly nickname the perpetrator The Origami Killer.

He and Watson had only been on the case for six months when the eleventh child went missing. An eight year old by the name of Bobbie Hilton had gone missing after his father Malcolm Hilton took the child to the mall. The father claimed only to look away for a moment before the boy had gone missing. They’d also lost another child Ethan Hilton in an accident only a year prior. The little boy had wandered into the streets and Malcolm had been a few seconds too late trying to throw them both out of the way. Malcolm absorbed a good portion of the blow but it was not enough to save seven year old Ethan. The boy died after being in a coma for three months.

It was through this information that Watson managed to make a theory that the killer was kidnapping children of parents that they deemed unfit to be parents. From the Hiltons who experienced a tragic accident, to a family of previous drug addicts, to a woman who’d grown up with bipolar disorder neglecting to get her next dosage of medication. She’d seemed to hit the nail on the head.

From there they managed to track down a social service worker who’d made contact with at least three of the parents before the children went missing, the Hiltons included. They had no substantial evidence to work off of so they conducted an unofficial stake out following a man by the name of Stafford Hunt using an array of cars that Alfredo had loaned to the two of them. Hunt apparently spent an unusual amount of time at a warehouse not far from the Brownstone.

“We have to go in.” Watson insists already beginning to climb out the sleek black car. She’d been acting strange ever since this investigation begun. He’d just shrugged it off as the involvement of many small children. Their lives ended much too soon wracking onto her subconscious. They very rarely dealt with cases involving children as their victims.

“We wait here for Marcus that was our deal for the stakeout remember?” He reminds her.

“It’s been sixteen days Sherlock. You and I both know that it’s the longest Hunt has kept a child. If Hunt is our man we need to go now.”

“You really believe he’s our man don’t you.” Her eyes have lit up with passion since they’d found Mr. Hunt a week ago.

“A connection to three out of the eleven families is the best we’ve found. The best that anyone has found in three years.” She insists. He shifts uncomfortably weighing the options. Rain beats heavily on the room of the car in the silence.

“Very well. However we wait until he comes out.” Joan rolls her eyes but she doesn’t protest in any other fashion. They sit in silence until a man runs out of the building and into his car. Once he rolls out of sight he hastily texts Marcus their location before following Watson into the building.

Watson whips out her flashlight surveying the area. Once they determine that they’re the only two there they freely wander. The place is relatively empty. Abandoned crates left creaking open on opposing sides of the large building, pieces of the ceiling deteriorating allowing the rain to pour into the wooden building.

They split off as Sherlock goes off to investigate the several crates spread throughout the place. He’d managed to make it through two before a shout broke through the empty room.

“Sherlock!” Watson’s voice echoes spurring him into a run. She’s near the center of the room flashlight abandoned on the ground. She’s tugging furiously at something but she’s only able to make it budge slightly. “Help!”

He skids across the floor rushing to help her. Together they lift the grate fixed into the ground to expose a man made hole. Rain water pours down from the hole in the ceiling onto their backs. They reach shoulders deep into the water pulling the body of Bobbie Hilton from the depths. They settle him carefully and Watson checks for a pulse. She quickly goes into the procedure of CPR pressing into the small boy’s chest.

“Hey!” A voice calls out from the doorway. Stafford Hunt stands at the entrance pointing a gun at the two of them. “Step away from the boy!” His gun is pointing at Watson and Sherlock’s heart thuds much too quick. He needs to think of a solution. He can hear Watson muttering fragmented sentences but she makes no move to stop what she’s doing.

“Easy.” Sherlock puts up both of his hands standing. “Nobody needs to get hurt Mr. Hunt.”

“Step away!” He shouts seeming to ignore him. Sirens break through the silence as cops rush onto the scene. Hunt points the gun back at the door giving Sherlock time to occupy the space between Watson and Stafford. Finally he hears the sputter from behind him. He looks back as Watson turns Bobbie on his side rubbing his back as he coughs up the water from his lungs. She wraps him protectively in her arms as his little body racks with violent shivers.

Briefly he can hear Gregson insisting that Hunt put his weapon down. From the sound of it he’s not cooperating. Sherlock turns back to the scene just in time to see Hunt turn back towards them ready to fire.

Two gunshots and the scream of a child blast through the empty space. Stafford Hunt collapses onto the floor two wounds in his back. Paramedics rush in once the sign is clear taking Bobbie from Watson’s arms. Her expression is blank, unreadable. No relief flooded her face now that this one was finally over.

Once they were both checked out they were allowed to go home.

Watson hadn’t moved from her spot on the couch since she’d showered and changed. Her favorite red cardigan is wrapped around her like her own personal armor. She finally stopped shivering so there was that.

He places a cup of tea in front of her but she doesn’t move to grab it off the table. He sits next to her silently offering his support in whatever demons she was battling within her mind. Without him.

“How do you do it?” Finally her voice croaks.

“Do what?” He studies her face but her expression continues to give away nothing. Watson is one of very few mysteries he does not believe he will ever solve. He doesn’t want to either. Since that one night he’d faired off the thought of sleeping together. Not that he didn’t want to. Watson is a very attractive woman. Her face is nearly perfectly symmetrical aside from the dusting of her freckles. She’s incredibly attractive yes but he does not wish to risk their relationship. One that’s so carefully put together.

She takes a shuddering breath before she continues. “How do you face society knowing all the terrible things we do to each other?” As if watching glass slowly crumble as does her facade. A tear slowly runs down her cheek and her body folds into itself. Her knees tuck into her chest and she places her head on them to hide her fears from him.

Carefully he pushes closer wrapping an arm around her to test boundaries. When she doesn’t flinch or shrug him off he pulls her closer. Her face buries into his shoulder as soft sobs shake her body. His heart breaks as she weeps for the lost children, for the parents that had to suffer. He places his lips on the crown of her head as the tears soak into his t-shirt. It’s remarkable that even her sobs are silent. The only things giving away her breakdown being the feeling of her tears and the shaking frame crumpled against his.

This was the first and only time Watson broke down in front of him. Sure she’d been angry and shouted at him. Regardless she never cried. Her eyes watered but she turned away before they fell.

Now however seeing her like this; broken and vulnerable… human. It somehow made her seem all the more beautiful.

[whitecrossgirl]

A Sisterly Chat

AN: This was just a silly idea based on a concept that probably has already been written about before but I wanted to give it a try. I hope you enjoy it. Ask box is open for prompts.

We have a situation – MH

Busy – SH

This is serious Sherlock! – MH

So is this – SH

I know you are microwaving marshmallows with Rosamund Watson to see if they explode. They don’t. Now will you listen? – MH

Actually, Brother Mine, they do explode if you spear them with metal skewers and put them in the microwave. – SH

An eye-roll emoji? Seriously Sherlock? Grow up. This is important – MH

Fine. What? – SH

Eurus has escaped. - MH

“What?!” Sherlock yelled, slamming the call button on his phone. One ring later and Mycroft had answered. “Why didn’t you say that first?”

“I was trying to.” Mycroft replied. “I’m overlooking the footage now, it might have been one of the new recruits. She appeared to manipulate them as they just walked out together.”

“And no one thought to stop them? Mycroft, your people are idiots.” Sherlock snapped. “What is this? The third or fourth time at least that she’s escaped?”

“We’re working on it. I’m calling to warn you to be careful. Eurus is over eighteen months without incident but we can’t be certain that she won’t relapse.” Mycroft said as Sherlock began to run possibilities through his head. Where could Eurus have gone? Eurus escapes for reasons. What reason did she have now?

“Uncla Sherl, who is it?” Rosie asked as Sherlock held her tightly in his arms. He had been looking after her whilst John was at work. Her nursery was having a staff-training day. At two years and three months, her language was improving greatly and her cogitative development was fascinating to observe.

“It’s Uncle Mycroft.” Sherlock said before turning his attention back to Mycroft. “She can’t be going to see Mummy and Daddy; they’re in Australia. The old house was destroyed after we found Victor. She wouldn’t dare go to your building, you would catch her. She has no interest in Lestrade and John would recognise her by sight, no matter her disguise.”

“Then there’s only one option. She will be coming to Baker Street. You’re the only other- Oh God. Sherlock you need to go.” Mycroft said as one of is men pointed to a camera and Sherlock came to the same realisation. There was someone else. Somewhere else. The one who’s importance was the greatest. The one who mattered most. The one who never actually saw Eurus face to face. The one person who meant that much to both Sherlock and Mycroft to gain that reaction from the elder Holmes brother.

“Molly.”

John flexed his fingers as he wrote up his latest report. He could swear that working in medicine was now more about paperwork than actually helping people. John took a moment to smile at the picture of Mary and Rosie on his desk before his phone beeped with an incoming text. Then a second. And a third.

The East Wind has blown into St. Bart’s. Help is required. – SH

If convenient come immediately. If inconvenient come anyway – SH

Rosie is with Mrs Hudson. – SH

“Shit.” John muttered and glanced at the calendar. Thankfully there were only two appointments and the other doctors would be willing to cover. After quickly claiming Rosie was ill, John rushed out of the surgery and into the closest cab. Eurus had escaped. Eurus was at St Bart’s. This was not good. Not good at all.

“Molly Hooper?”

Molly looked up from her microscope and looked at the visitor. A tall, pale woman with elbow-length black hair was standing in the doorway; dressed casually in jeans and a purple hooded jumper. She was dressed far too casually to be part of the police or part of the hospital; Molly knew all the IT people and her plain-clothes guards who Mycroft assigned to watch out for her. This woman was none of them.

“Can I help you?” Molly asked as the woman stepped into the lab, closing the door behind her. Molly watched her move carefully; there was something very familiar about this woman.

“I just wanted to speak to you.” The woman replied calmly. “It’s about my brother.”

“Who’s your brother?” Molly asked as she cursed herself for not having something on her to protect herself with. Sherlock and John always tried to encourage her to do so. Now, that probably would have been a good idea, considering some random woman had just walked into her morgue and was trying to speak to her about her brother who Molly was certain she had never-

“Sherlock Holmes.”

-met.

Fifteen minutes later, Sherlock was sprinting through St Bart’s hospital; dodging doctors, nurses, visitors and patients; ignoring any of their complaints, comments or demands to slow down. Once glance at the wait for the lift sent him speeding towards the stairs, jumping over or missing several in his haste to get to the morgue. Molly. He had to find Molly. There was no telling what Eurus had done or said. No telling what she was capable of or how far she had slipped back into the darkness that had consumed her for so long. As he ran down the stairs, his foot slipped and Sherlock crashed painfully down the last six steps. Pain, however was not a priority; Molly was; so after a few choice curse words, Sherlock picked himself back up and kept running. Molly. He had to get to Molly.

The sound of the doors slamming off the walls echoed along with his running footsteps and Sherlock slammed his way onto the next corridor. Molly’s corridor. As he ran, the echoing of his footsteps was accompanied by the sound of something else. Laughter. Women’s laughter. A woman who was not Molly. Eurus. Why was she laughing? What could have caused her to laugh? What had she done to Molly?

“Eurus!” Sherlock shouted as he threw open the door, expecting to find a blood-soaked Eurus but instead found Eurus and Molly sitting on stools, cups of coffee in front of them and looks of amusement on their faces.

“Eighteen minutes since I entered the hospital. Mycroft is slipping although I was impressed how you managed to work the London traffic. Usually it takes twenty two minutes to get from Baker Street to here.” Eurus commented as Molly smiled at him.

“What are you doing here Sherlock?” Molly asked.

“I- Eurus has obviously escaped and I needed to check that-“ Sherlock said as Eurus cut across him.

“You needed to check that I was not undertaking some complex murderous attack against Doctor Molly Hooper as a result of our own difficult past relationship. That isn’t me anymore Sherlock. I’m done trying to get rid of your pets and anyway, Molly never was one of those pets. I’ve always respected you Molly. And your work.” Eurus explained as Sherlock looked at her perplexed.

“Why are you here? How did you escape?” Sherlock asked.

“Because I want to and because I could.” Eurus answered. “And before you interrupted, Molly and I were having a lovely conversation about pathology, her research on factors which can affect decomposition and the complexity of the human body.”

“It’s true Sherlock. Actually, Eurus, you did tell me you wanted to speak to me about Sherlock.” Molly said but Eurus dismissed that with a wave of her hand.

“Boring. I just said that so you wouldn’t have me thrown out. I actually wanted to meet you. Mycroft told me a lot about you and after my little ‘experiment’, I wanted to know more about you and your work.” Eurus explained before a mischievous glint shone in her eyes. “Although, now that he is here, Sherlock, did you ever tell Molly about your Reception Nativity play?”

“Shut up! Shut up right now!” Sherlock insisted, looking terrified for a completely different reason. It had been one memory he had tried to erase.

“No, what happened?” Molly asked. This had taken an amusing turn; watching Sherlock turn from a mostly composed adult to a little boy bickering with his sister.

“Sherlock was playing one of the shepherds and Mummy was of course very proud; used her best tea towel as part of his costume and everything. However when the night of the performance came, Sherlock was supposed to proudly say his lines and lead the other shepherds in following the star. That didn’t happen. Instead, Sherlock stood up, said his line and fell off the stage.” Eurus explained.

“Oh no,” Molly said as she pictured Little Sherlock. The grown up Sherlock was red in the face and glaring at Eurus.

“It gets better, some of the children tried to help and the play carried on. However Mycroft couldn’t help but smirk and laugh. Sherlock happened to glance out at the audience when he and the others were gathered around the manger. He saw that Mycroft was laughing and decided to throw the baby Jesus at him.” Eurus explained, her blue eyes shining with amusement at the memory. At almost four, it had been the funniest thing she had ever seen.

“Sherlock!” Molly said as she laughed at the image of a little boy dressed as a shepherd throwing a doll at his brother.

“Mycroft shouldn’t have laughed.” Sherlock insisted as the door opened behind them again.

“You should have watched where you were going.” Mycroft replied, looking composed as usual as he and John walked into the room. “Eurus, I believe it’s time to go.”

“Fine.” Eurus replied fairly. “Molly, it was nice to finally meet you and I am sorry for making Sherlock think I had put explosives in your flat and forced you two to admit something that really should have been done privately. It was very immature although it did work out for the best.”

“And that is a true Holmes apology.” Molly retorted. “A good beginning before the inevitable turning the tables to make the one receiving the apology feel annoyed again.”

The two women looked at one another before smiling and laughing at one another. Eurus turned and walked back towards Mycroft. Just as she reached him, Mycroft shook his head at her. “Give it back Eurus, you know he needs it.”

“I was going to see how long it would take for him to realise.” Eurus said as she reached into the pocket of her hoodie and threw the item she had stolen from Sherlock’s pocket. “He has been carrying it around for three weeks.”

“Two and a half.” Sherlock argued as he held the precious item in his hands. “I just haven’t found the right time to do it.”

“Well you’d better hurry up.” Eurus replied simply as she looked at John who was looking completely stumped by the day’s events. “And do tell John what’s been going on otherwise his face may look like that forever.”

“No that’s just his face.” Molly quipped cheekily before smiling apologetically at John. “Sorry.”

Eurus however laughed and before anyone could stop her, rushed over and threw her arms around Molly, hugging her tightly. Molly hugged her back instinctively and Eurus stepped back, smiling at her. “I mean it, I really do like you. Had I had you for a sister, who knows how different things would have been.”

“Indeed,” Molly replied; she was certain that things probably would have not changed but it was better to let Eurus have these moments of happiness that didn’t come from torture or death. Any genuine happiness that could help Eurus’ mental state was to be encouraged.

“Come along Eurus.” Mycroft said as he led Eurus out of the room, his arm linked around hers in what appeared to be a kind gesture between siblings was also a way of reminding Eurus about the tranquilizer dart on the dial of his watch. One wrong move and she wouldn’t wake up until she was back on Sherrinford. If she did wake up from the dosage.

As the door shut behind them, John turned and looked at Sherlock and Molly. “What just happened?”

[qpjianghu]

What I loved and hated about the Molly Hooper Scene

I’ve been deaded along with most of the rest of the fandom, so I haven’t done much of my own writing on the finale. Howeverrrr, Louise Brealey’s tweets in response to Steven Moffat’s interview with EW got me going, and, alas, here we are. The first half of this piece has been published on Bustle, but I had to cut it significantly, so I’m posting the extended version here.

In “The Final Problem,” one contentious scene stood out among the many, many, many (Tumblr is making lists) other contentious parts of the episode: the forced love confession scene between Sherlock Holmes and his pathologist friend Molly Hooper. The scene – which was actually a last-minute addition to the script – has polarized the fandom because it seemingly reduces Molly to a one-dimensional, love-sick sop, while proving to Steven Moffat’s staunchest haters that the “Sherlock” writer and creator is a diabolical misogynist.

On the Steven Moffat front, I happen to love his female characters. Even when I hate them – cough Clara Oswald cough – I love that I hate them, because it demonstrates that they’re real and layered enough for me to approach them in an ambivalent way. Molly Hooper is actually one of Moffat’s more complex female characters, both in personality and narrative arc – the latter of which is why people are so irked by the Molly Hooper scene. I have other problems with the scene (which I will get into later) but I do not think it necessitates a reductionist view of Molly’s character, despite the implication that Molly has not progressed past her season one self.

Molly starts out as a Sherlock fangirl of sorts, fostering an unrequited affection for the great detective. In season two, we learn that she is more than her love for Sherlock – she stands up to him, gains his respect, and becomes an integral part of Sherlock’s plan to fake his death. Season three moves her further into the friendzone (which, in the context of the “Sherlock” universe, is a huge step for both of them), while establishing that she has – or tries to have – a life outside of the pathology lab and the morgue.

Her character in “The Abominable Bride,” is the most interesting: “Molly” is known to all as “Hooper,” the “man” who runs the morgue and takes no shit from anyone, least of all Sherlock. When we find out that the whole plot of “The Abominable Bride” is a fiction concocted in Sherlock’s head to help him figure out a case, it makes Molly’s re-characterization as a man even more fascinating – not because Sherlock would only respect her as a man, but because he now recognizes her inner steel, and believes that if Molly did live in those more, ahem, genteel times, she would have had to pretend to be a man in order to be respected as the smart and capable person that she already is.

Season four shortchanged a lot of characters, Molly included, and she only appears in the first two episodes to help take care of John’s baby and to remind Sherlock that he’s too doped up to function. Then came “The Final Problem.”

“The Final Problem” centers on the sudden, psychopathic appearance of Sherlock’s secret sister, Eurus, and her desire to understand Sherlock’s “emotional context.” To do so, she puts him through a series of Escape Rooms and presents him with a different ethical conundrum in each. One room contains an empty coffin, which Sherlock deduces is meant for Molly Hooper. Eurus tells Sherlock that Molly’s flat is rigged with explosives, and unless he can convince Molly to say the code phrase “I love you” before the timer runs out, Molly will die.

It’s cruel. In a way, that’s what makes the scene brilliant. For Molly, it’s a painful phrase to utter “because,” she says, “it’s true.” And even though Sherlock succeeds in the challenge – “I won! I saved Molly Hooper!” – the cost is high, and, Eurus explains, unnecessary. Eurus reveals that Molly was never actually in any danger, so Sherlock hasn’t actually “saved” her, and whatever he thinks he has “won,” he’s now lost much, much more. “Look what you did to her,” Eurus points out. “Look what you did to yourself.”

“Look what you did to yourself”: Immediately afterwards, Sherlock Hulk-smashes the coffin with his fists in a primal rage, an indication that, as the entire series thus far has aimed to show us, the most impressive aspect of Sherlock Holmes is not his brain, but his heart. Sherlock is deeply, deeply emotional, and it’s gut-wrenching to see him so distraught over causing emotional harm to someone else, someone he used to slight without a moment’s hesitation or afterthought. Now that’s character growth. Plus, this scene is a callback to “A Scandal in Belgravia,” when Sherlock humiliates Molly at a Christmas party, completely blind to her affection for him. Sherlock is surprisingly chastened when he realizes his mistake, and the moment marks an important crack in his emotionless facade.

The scene in “The Final Problem” is so agonizing because we know how much Sherlock has grown since then. But what about Molly? It seems she hasn’t changed a bit. In “A Scandal in Belgravia,” Molly plays the part of the pining, unrequited lover, and she is thrust into the exact same position in “The Final Problem.” Many fans are furious over this static characterization of Molly, a woman who seems to exist only to support the emotional growth of the main, male character. In fairness, the show is called “Sherlock,” ergo, every character – male or female – essentially exists to support the emotional growth of the main, male character. However, is it fair to say that this scene indicates that Molly is nothing but a stock female character with no internal growth or struggle?

Yes and no. No, because Molly is far from being a prototypical damsel in distress of yore or a one-dimensional, ass-kicking heroine. In fact, what I love most about Molly Hooper is that she turns the dreaded trope of the Strong Female Character (™) on its head. Here is an original female character (she does not appear in the Arthur Conan Doyle stories) who is pure-hearted yet complicated, emotional yet entirely competent. Though she has some form of a relationship with the main, male character, she also has her own career, dating life, living space, and stressful days unrelated to said main, male character. What stood out to me most about Molly and Sherlock’s exchange in “The Final Problem” was Molly answering the phone with “Hello, Sherlock. Is this urgent? Because I’m not having a good day.” Those six words – I’m not having a good day – hint at an entire life outside of whatever’s going on with Sherlock Holmes, and imbue her character with immediate depth.

The fact that she is still pining for him arguably makes her feel even more real. In response to fan criticism, Louise Brealey tweeted her own assessment of the scene: “Loving someone after years is not reductive, retrograde, antifeminist or weak.” (The actress views herself as a proud feminist and has been outspoken about women’s rights and her own struggle with body image issues.)

All of which makes the fallout  – or lack thereof – from this scene at the end of the episode so shocking. We see how this conversation has profoundly affected Sherlock (“Look what you did to yourself”), but not how the conversation has affected Molly (“Look what you did to her”). Molly appears in one subsequent scene in the episode, as part of an ending montage that shows her happily skipping into 221B Baker Street. Wait, what?

In a post-finale interview with Entertainment Weekly, Moffat addresses fan concern with the careless treatment of Molly in this episode with a repressive: “She gets over it!” He then goes on to explain that their resolution obviously occurs off-screen, and ends with: “She probably had a drink and went and shagged someone, I dunno. Molly was fine.”

Oh, Steven. If anything, this makes matters even worse, and Louise Brealey herself tweeted that she disagrees with Moffat’s assessment of Molly’s reaction to this scene:

The Molly Hooper scene in “The Final Problem” is supposed to feel horrible. It’s supposed to feel brutal, and it feels that way because of the careful development of both Sherlock’s and Molly’s characters over the course of the series. We witness Sherlock’s agony, but Molly’s is completely brushed aside. That’s the real tragedy of the treatment of Molly’s character – not what happened to her within the “emotional context” of the episode, but what wasn’t explored by the writers afterward.

But there’s another ick-factor as well, and that’s the larger issue of the whole “no homo” feel of this episode. This scene bothered me on a more meta level because it felt like it was capitalizing on Sherlock’s one heteronormative relationship. If the words “I love you” mean so much, why not have Sherlock say it to John? (Sherlock himself says “I love you” to Molly because she will only say it if he says it first.) I could write – and obviously many of you have written – hundreds of pages on how Sherlock’s love for John Watson drives nearly every episode, so that’s another essay entirely. But if you’ll take it on good faith that Sherlock and John’s relationship is what powers the heart of the entire series, why have Sherlock utter such a sincere-sounding declaration of love not to John, not even to his brother Mycroft, but to the one straight female character on the show? (Apologies to Mrs. Hudson.)

BBC deliberately mislead fans by including Sherlock’s “I love you” in one of the promotional trailers for the season – and that, I believe, was cruel. Not cruel towards fictional characters, but cruel towards real-life fans who devote so much of themselves to this show. A large proportion of “Sherlock” fans were exhilarated by the prospect of seeing John and Sherlock finally get together as a couple, despite the fact that Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss have repeatedly denied that that was ever going to happen. For my part, I didn’t need to see the two of them engage in a dramatic, public display of affection to close out the season, and I believe something that grandiose would have been out of character for these two emotionally repressive men.

But that’s why the final hug between Sherlock and John at the end of “The Lying Detective” was so meaningful and so cathartic. That’s why Sherlock saying “I love you” to or at John (hey, I would have been happy with a Mind Palace love confession too) would have been a natural follow-up to the emotional vulnerability finally laid bare at the end of “The Lying Detective.” And that’s why it felt so cheap to have Sherlock say it to Molly. “I’m not an experiment,” she angrily scolds Sherlock, as he desperately tries to get her to say those three words. But in the larger, “emotional context” of this show, she might as well be.

.

[keagan-ashleigh]

Sherrinford

So, I must admit my twin theory was wrong. I had the “this is a woman” theory in mind but that wasn’t my first guess so I really have to admit I’m surprised. So long for my theories, but, honestly this isn’t disappointing at all, that’s really great. They did really worked on the fact we would expect a brother. That was clever. Yet the “never twins” repeated still bothers me, I just can’t seem to let this go. x) This has another explanation but maybe the theory still holds itself somehow, I’ll just try to think of it in another way.

Now on some notes: Sherlock didn’t recognised her at all. He would have if he had seen her in past decades, so he hasn’t seen her since they were children. I still thinks he believes she’s dead, and I still believe Sherlock repressed the memory of her. She hid from the CCTV. She was real, so she was walking with Sherlock in the streets, yet Mycroft points out “why is he rambling around the streets?” I assumed it was because the woman wasn’t real, because Mycroft and the others looking at CCTV don’t see her. Meaning that Mycroft knows what she looks like, that’s obvious since he has been dealing with her case - and that mainly means Mycroft don’t know she’s on the lose. She says she has been sent by Smith. But the note says “miss me”. That’s Moriarty’s brand - unless it’s not. We assume it’s Moriarty because of the “miss me” video, but it may be Sherrinford’s brand. And that’d means the “miss me” dvd is her doing somehow. I was suspecting it before, Moriarty is just a pawn, and Sherrinford really is the bad one, the centre of the web. Mary may have just been her pawn too. Obvious thing: she’s clever, pretty damn clever, she chose that therapist because that was the one John would choose. She anticipated John’s move just like Sherlock has been all the time throughout this episode. That means she knows Mary’s dead. She has been taking a look at Sherlock and John’s lives for god knows how long. She knows how John counts in Sherlock’s life, then. She knows she has to go through him to get to Sherlock. Hence the three garridebs moment she initiated.

I said before that I thought Moriarty’s plan was too intimate (I’ll edit to link the post if I find it). Burning Sherlock’s heart? That’s intimate. That meant Sherlock hurt his heart in some way - that meant revenge, and that wasn’t working, and this problem was never addressed. Now it is. It has always been Sherrinford’s plan because somehow, Sherlock and probably Mycroft have broken Sherrinford’s heart. And we know that: to burn Sherlock’s heart, they need to get John - to do it, let’s use a pawn like Mary. And to burn Mycroft’s heart, get Sherlock. That’s the chain of pressure points, really. And it all makes sense as Sherrinford is the key of it. Now to Mary: she said “save John Watson”. The Question was: from what? Now we know. Mary knew for Sherrinford. How did she know? Weeeelll I’ve got a theory. And it goes with the question: why TST was leading us to believe she was bad? (still think she is, but oh shit the meaning of that “go to hell” was the one I was refusing to talk about, though I listed it in the possibilities, I had no other choice, but I just didn’t want to talk about it - I should have, maybe. Turns out that’s what what she meant: you need to face hell to save John. Dumb me.) So why was it ambiguous: maybe because it’s not that ambiguous. We can’t say Mary wasn’t a villain, she proved enough she was, until TST reversed it almost completely (safe for the last bit). There is still unsolved questions about her, and I don’t think they’ll stay unsolved. So lets keep aside the she’s redeemed/not redeemed debate for a sec and points out that she was surely implied in Moriarty’s doings, and was indeed a pawn to get to John, to get to Sherlock. The dvd had “miss me” on it and she knew who Sherrinford was and what she was doing. Plus Mary knew about the dragon slayer. She said it to Sherlock, you’re a dragon slayer. Only Mycroft used this analogy, because that was how Sherlock was thinking of himself. No one else could have known, except for the sister they both shared their games and stories with. She knew Eurus was after John, and she warned Sherlock. Now if she’s a sweet and lovely woman why did she agree to be part of that scheme and why she didn’t tell Sherlock everything? She literally sent him to Culverton Smith, so he’s in danger and John saves him. Why?

That’s part of a plan. The two episodes were telling us that events can be anticipated, on a mathematical level. That’s it. Given a certain path, given each of participants personality, the course of events is predictable. Mary told Sherlock he had to find a bad guy and put himself in danger, then Sherrinford arrives and puts Sherlock on Culverton Smith’s trail. All of the rest, all of what happened next was anticipated. We were led to believe Mary was bad, at the end of TST, because she was, because she sent John and Sherlock were they are now, following the path Eurus wanted them to follow. Mary was part of that plan.

NOW TO MY I TOLD YOU SO POINT. Mycroft’s notebook. Remember? Almost no one believed I was right to think it wasn’t saying “scarlet roll mops” = red herring, that it could as well say “scarlet roll model” for what I searched, which was the name of a dress. This was actually the dress solution. The red dress. The woman in the red dress. Redbeard. I told you it was relevant I TOLD YOU AHA AH. *coughs* sorry. That wasn’t a red herring. That was a clue. You know how Eurus is represented in mythology? Old man, wearing a long beard, a big and heavy coat, and red wings. He’s supposed to live somewhere near the palace of Helios, the Sun. Now Redbeard makes much sense, don’t you think? What’s next: in the immediate? The three garridebs. That’s happening guys, i can feel it, the three garridebs is on. You know what happens next, don’t you? Sherlock opens his heart to John. Next move is that Sherlock will have his heart completely burned by John’s death. After that, here’s the real purpose: Mycroft looses Sherlock. But that’s a tv show folks, the hero always wins. John will be saved, and Eurus will be blown away. (got it? *insert here the picture of a turtle biting on a strawberry* - sorry I always do bad jokes when I’m excited :o) )

So, in the end my twin theory as I presented it is not accurate but the whole character analysis I made of Sherrinford since HLV still works, the things I learned in TLD were mostly confirming it. I just got the gender and birthdate wrong, that is all! *shrug* :o) That’s the game of speculations and theories, they can’t all be right. But I still stand on this: the fact that Sherrinford / Eurus is the one who wants to burn Sherlock’s heart, but less because he hurt her as I believed, but because Mycroft is the one who locked her up, and because Mycroft dearly loves his brother. The three oldest motives in the book are power, revenge, jealousy and love - for Eurus, that’s revenge. I think in the past Eurus was the one hurting Sherlock (she may have been the actual sociopath of the Holmes siblings), and that’s why Mycroft took her away, making Sherlock believe she was dead, erasing all memories of her. Remember the East Wind tale Mycroft was telling Sherlock as a child. He was telling him her sister wanted to hurt him. He turned her into a bogeyman because it was making things easier, and because that way she turned into a tale, something not real, but something to fear.

[alltingfinns]

A Scandal in Belgravia

So I’m back on this.

The swoosh on some sped up footage in the previously, don’t remember noticing that.

This episode’s start gets so much funnier if you read some of the fic written between this and the previous episode.

Silly song now becomes more dramatic in TRF.

What did Irene offer Jim to get him so riled up? If it’s the plot plane plan that would explain why Sherlock is needed alive. But his emotional reaction... maybe he’s already been trying to get it on his own. Indicates possibly that Jim has been looking for a way to get to Mycroft.

“You’re typing a lot.”

This montage is nicely done.

Arguing about the blog.

The pouncing on the title.

He’s so hurt. He knows ash!

“We do watch the news.”

“You said boring and switched the channel.”

First time where “people” = John.

And the hat.

“It’s time.” I never thought about the waiting period.

Ehh, Hudson called up to the next floor so John’s room? Boys?

Ha cool, a SAAB. An old one too. I’d guess a 900 model from the early nineties.

Lestrade probably makes these calls a lot.

I get Sherlock’s confusion, he’s just in a sheet it’d make sense for him to be humiliated.

Their silent conversation + John’s acceptance of the absurdity.

That was a pretty long look on Sherlock’s lap and then asking about pants.

The Swedish subtitles on Netflix just referred to John as ”kronans gosse” I love it!

John took the queen liking his blog as a point in their argument.

I always like looking at John during the sheet bit.

Mycroft and John conversing in subtext that you need to remember their original conversation from a whole series/three episodes ago. And people think johnlock is too subtextual.

They made “the woman” a work title clearly to explain why Sherlock would refer to her that way. A bit harder to work in the context from ACD canon. It would be weird if Sherlock in modern times went “a credit to your gender” for defeating him.

Sherlock’s reaction Mycroft’s veiled assertion settles the question, I think. He’s making a “damn, he’s got me there” face. Mainly because John’s presence, if we considers his previous statement. If it were just him and Mycroft he’d just say “just because I haven’t done it doesn’t mean I can’t understand it!”

Btw, in case you think my typing speed is phenomenal I am hitting pause when something gets really interesting to me.

The parallel of checking the pictures have the “obvious” reading of romantic set up. But Sherlock is still learning details of a case he has been given so another reading is that while he’s targeting her she’s targeting him.

My reading is backed up by Sherlock’s immediate demeanor. His interest in her didn’t really appear until he found out she didn’t ask for anything. Blackmailers are a dime a dozen, but someone making a point of threat against the reputation of the BRF without asking for direct compensation? That’s someone with a plan and someone who can give him the kick he feeds of from casework.

John getting the last word in only for Sherlock to get the laterer word in.

Pinching an ashtray from the aforementioned BRF, whom himself mentioned as his first client with a navy, just to make John laugh? Some things are priceless but for everything else there’s MasterCard.

Okay, I had to back up a bit but: I don’t know who’s getting these pictures for Irene, but the last one that makes her smile is focused on John. She sees Sherlock more naked in the pictures where he’s fully clothed in the back of a cab than when he was in just a sheet on the pavement.

More parallels. This is really about their similarities. Could still be considered romantic foreshadowing “they’re made of the same cloth” type.

Ah yes, punch me.

That little dialogue snippet about “punch me” usually being subtext is what got me to first watch this show.

In general I have a lot of issues with how they handled Irene. But I especially don’t think I get the nudity in this scene. It reveals to Sherlock immediately that his ruse was all in vain since she either a) knew he was coming anyway or b) usually greet priests in distress while stark naked and might therefor just be stark raving.

Unflappable John Watson. Oh dear, my flat mate who I just beat up is sitting in front of a naked dominatrix with his vicar collar between her teeth. “I’ve missed something, haven’t I?”

He doesn’t like being a third wheel either. “I had tea too! Just so you know. In case you thought Sherlock got tea at the palace by himself. I was there too. The tea was lovely. Just the right temperature.”

Dammit.

Now I want tea.

Wait wait wait! When did John put his “date” shoes on? Only time it makes sense is when Sherlock was looking through his disguises. (He definitively wouldn’t wear them to traipse around the muddy crime scene.) Maybe they’re part of his “battle uniform”? Also obviously Sherlock can only “deduce” date because he knows what shoes John wears on dates. This isn’t really clothed people are easier to deduce.

How is he not deducing the heck out of her make up and ear piercing? Is it because she’s acting so extraordinary that her indicators become harder to contextualise?

Or is that whole thing just a plot hole?

And her comes her actual opening chess move. Nudity and banter was just setting up the pieces.

“Somebody loves you.” She pressed John’s big red “DO NOT PRESS” button right away. Later she says Jim told her how to play the Holmes brothers, but he definitively gave some pointers on John as well.

There’s something about John’s facial movements when Irene says he knows exactly where to look. Hard to compare with the sheet scene because of the different angles. But yeah, John is bi.

“You do borrow my laptop” with such an angry glare.

Wait are Irene’s shoes those shoes that are expensive because they’re red on the bottom? (I do not care enough to google their names.)

And it’s when John starts to smile that Sherlock does his verbal keysmash. Officially Ben said it was because Irene was paying attention to John instead of him, but she does that a number of times previously and has had quite a moment of getting cosy at John. But up until then John has been a bit standoffish. Of course you can only take so much of a pretty lady flirting with you before your smile reflex gets activated. Also he whips his head immediately at Sherlock in medical concern for his friend and Sherlock can speak clearly again.

Sherlock thinks he knows her game now as he makes his move getting her to confirm that the pictures are in the room.

Imagine the egg on his face if John hadn’t managed the smoke alarm in time.

“Amazing how fire exposes our priorities” should be part of a collection of lines that are only said once but thematically repeated throughout the show.

Some would argue maybe “I really hope you don’t have a baby in there” could be added but I don’t think it could be considered as repeated enough thematically.

Sherlock being his usual demanding self about turning off the fire alarm. The fool! Doesn’t he know how hard fire alarms are to turn off? (Maybe just a problem for me...)

Okay sure, easy enough with a gun, but impractical as a long term solution.

Umm, excuse me why does he go “no disrespect but you were clearly born in the 80s” in an episode from 2012? The most she’d be is 32, so clearly she looks at most like that then. Why would she be insulted by that? Also he earlier called a dude unhealthy, stupid and with bad breath in front of him without clarifying level of respect. So basically he’s needling her by adding that. That’s the most positive spin it can get.

John apologising for not stopping /forewarning about a whole bunch of trained killers sweeping in? That is diehard loyalty.

She’s staring hard at him as fire exposes his priority.

She actually does give him a clue by looking down the moment he looks at her. Never thought of that.

He heard something click wrong, looked at her for additional clue so she looks to the side “get out of the way”.

I love that John’s priority is medically inclined in the action scene, checking the vital signs of the guy that got shot.

“Observant?” “Flattered?” Honestly he shouldn’t be so surprised by the first bit as it was obvious some kind of observation + deduction got Sherlock the code.

As usual Sherlock gives zero fucks about gun safety. I feel John at some point is going to tie him down and lecture him about it. “We do not scratch our heads with the barrel of a gun, and we don’t call for the police by shooting in the air!”

You know if you’re knocking him out cold regardless, you don’t need him to drop the phone first. You just wanted the beating to be literal.

“He’ll be fine. I’ve used it on loads of my friends.” Yeah no, tell the doctor what chemical knockout drug you just put in a former drug addict!!

I wonder how much of dream Adler is actual Adler speaking to a drugged out Sherlock.

Could be nothing with the only real part being “hush now, returning your coat”. Would make sense for a dreaming brain to jumble the two cases together.

Start of series 2 we get to see Sherlock’s bedroom while John’s remain a mystery after 4 series.

John is not on the top of his game this episode. “What woman?”

And so it begins.

Mycroft does not have “shut up Hudson” privilege.

That whole phone noise discussion is punctuated with embarrassment.

Ah the gaping jaw that set the sails for the lestrolly ship.

“Christmas is canceled!” I love when John banters with Sherlock.

Sherlock is mean to Molly, but to be fair she kind of blundered a bit with the others and Sherlock complaining about John being away was clearly something he told in confidence. Telling Greg and John that their loved ones are betraying the trust put in them is general misanthropy, but Sherlock probably feels justified in needling Molly about a crush that he figures none of them know anyway.

Oh John’s look there. Greg clearly knows too what is coming but John has the recognition factor.

“Oh shit. It was me. Still me? She still has a thing for me?”

For a sort of dramatic moment it still has one of John’s absolutely funniest facial journeys. “Wait, you apologised? You know what an apology is? Are you feeling well?”

Obviously Irene’s text signal gets a lot of funny moments, but nothing will beat the timing of this one. And now I am imagining Jim with a pair of binoculars sitting across the street and telling Irene “now, send it now, it’ll be fucking priceless!”

And Greg “wait really?” When you’re not sure what your consultant can do to surprise you next.

I believe I made a post about it earlier but Jeanette’s boyfriend just said he’s been keeping track up till 57 on text messages that his platonic flat mate gets where the signal is a woman moaning.

“Do you ever reply?”

Jeanette starts working on her break up speech about then, I believe.

Molly nervously gulps a drink. Now Molly is everyone’s favorite John mirror. Medical professional with a crush on Sherlock, and whose favored type of outfit involves knitwear. John usually takes a drink at emotionally difficult times. Is this Molly handling her rejection, or showing what John is doing/will do without showing John?

Mycroft. If they passed a new law why would Sherlock know about it before you?

“How did Sherlock recognize her from... not-her-face?”

Mycroft answers with a smile and leaving the room.

“I got plans”

“No” I know you. If it’s a date you’ve probably bungled it already. Regardless if it is or isn’t you’ll still prioritize my brother because you always do.

John really goes for the superconfident strategy when dating, huh? “I always thought I was great.”

“I’ll even walk your dog!”

“I don’t have a dog!”

“No, because that was the last one...”

Always thought you were a great boyfriend, huh?

When even your landlady who got out of her marriage through execution thinks you bungled it, you probably bungled it.

Think I’ll break here and continue the rest of the episode tomorrow.

[tinglingandnumbness]

A Bullet Post: The Lying Detective

(Again, LONG POST ahead and this is my third time replaying the episode and I noticed things while browsing on here and some of my own bits.)

●Nice carpet there. Red.

●And it makes some sense that Rosie isn't with John at that time. Very unstable, not good. But I can't help but to think something else is wrong here. 

●"Why does everything have to be understandable? Why can't things be unacceptable and we just say that?" Funny enough John can't seem to accept some things of his own.

●Not gonna lie, first time watching it I was really shifting if this was Mary and the Bus Lady. I was that broken about the last episode.

●This is John in pain right now. Seeing his dead wife right there. This is John.

●"What's the very worst thig you can do to your very best friends? Tell them your darkest secret. Because if you tell them and they decided they rather not know, you can't take it back you can't unsay it. Once you've opened your heart you can't close it again." I think...this will be brought right into The Final Problem for sure. And he might be back as well.

●TD 12. They couldn't JUST mention this and implement it and NOT having this drug involved somehow in the arching story in some bigger way.

●This soundtrack going on while he was about to confess reminded me a little bit of Mr. Robot's soundtrack. Heh.

●When Sherlock said in the last episode that intuitions should not be ignored and that it's data processed too fast for the mind to comprehend? Yeah, I knew her face was off but then the scene was going along, I was listening and it just slipped my mind altogether. Sneaky, sneaky, show...

●I love the way they show Sherlock's throught process here, with the chalk, the handbag and so much else.

●How many things is he cooking up exactly?

●Oh, Sherlock. :(

●And...after awhile it made me wonder if John had been in the same state "Faith" was in as well. :( Sherlock shouldn't label himself. :( Sociopaths don't care this much. :( And this sociopath does. :')

●Ok this, this right now HE IS SPENDING QUALITY TIME WITH HIS SISTER. AND HE'S SMILING IN THE STATE HE'S IN AND KNOWS WHY HE IS IN THIS STATE, BUT HE IS SMILING BECAUSE HIS SECRET CRAZY EVIL SISTER MADE A LIGHT SARCASTIC JOKE AND DID THIS...

●I LOVE THE WAY HE SAYS "ROOM".

●"Oh, Big Brother is watching you." "Literally." DOUBLE LITERALLY HOLY SHIT. WOW. At first I thought "how did she know that?" But then Mycroft is the government and Sherlock is popular or something.

●"You never made it up to me?" "And how am i supposed to do that?" "Sex." LITERALLY AND I'LL GET TO THAT LATER.

●UCK OFF. Oh, Empty Hearse feels.

●Sherlock talking about one taking their own life and how it would still affect those close to you after you're gone because your life is also theirs. Moffat, thank you for that.

●IF YOU BLINK YOU MISS IT. 

●Now...why was this gun shown at the beginning of this episode and connected to John YET also connected to TST with the aquarium? Ohh boi....

●TWO TIMES NOW WHEN SHERLOCK IS DRUGGED WE FLASH BACK TO REDBEARD. 

●ANYONE. This whole sequence was so awesome. So very awesome and trippy.

●I LOVE THIS WOMAN SO MUCH. SHE IS OUR VOICE HERE. SHE IS A FORCE. WE SING HER PRAISES.

●AND THIS WHOLE THING. I WAS FEELING SO MANY EMOTIONS. I was laughing because it's just hilarious, i was feeling so bad and sorry because the man is so close to loosing his mind and i felt like I want to put him in my pocket because he's precious and needs protection.

● "Oh, hello. Can I have a cup of tea?" SYRJAIUOHTKDDTHKHTKDUOIAYDJTYSJRYJDTUKTDYFJLBABY

● Basically. (and I love this whole sequence too)

●"I know Mary's dead and I know your heart's broken but if Sherlock Holmes dies too who will you have? I will tell you something John Watson you will not have me!" "They don't matter! You do!" MRS. HUDSON, THANK YOU.

●This is the part where I collectively lost my shit the first time I saw this scene. MRS. HUDSON, THANK YOU. (Even though he planned being there but he didn't figure THIS out. My god the poor man in the trunk when Mrs Hudson was in a highspeed car chase though.)

●"YOU PRETENDED TO BE DEAD FOR TWO YEARS." ".....apart from that!" omg.

● "He knows you." "No, he doesn't" "I'm in your head, John. You're disagreeing with yourself" And he agreed that he was too while answering the driver as well. And knowing this you reconstruct every scene with him and Mary who's in his head. Because Mary is John's thoughts.

●"Yeah, ok he is. But he's our monster." said in an eyerolling, affectionate and knowing way. MEANING: "He's my monster. I know that." :""")

●"You know I'm a killer. But did you know I'm a CEREAL KILLER?" DAT PUN.

●Ahhh John Watson's blog. Funny because in the last episode he was still "updating" it. But on the website itself they say he isn't.

●JAWN. OMG JAWWWWWN.

●and after thought when scrolling through tumblr he does dress pretty sharp in this series does he? Does it serve a purpose?

●Mary smiling and watching Sherlock being obliviously funny as he mostly is. MEANING: John is enjoying and loving this. John wants him to wear the hat. 

●MY BOYS ARE CLICKING IN SYNC AGAIN. (little did I know later. :( )

●I really like the H. H. Holmes element they brought in here. Because it may relate to Culverton AND Sherlock's sister. Hiding in plain sight the both of them. A  hotel secretly a murder hotel.

●There is no getting over that this happened.

●It cannot be justified other than this is John's rage and guilt letting himself hit Sherlock because John himself is in so much pain already. So why not take it out on someone else for a change? It is not fair nor is it right. And Sherlock didn't even cover himself. He feels just as guilty as well and he loathes himself that much to allow John to continue. Something like this cannot be mended easily. But they'll get there. They only got each other now. The person who causes you the most pain is the person that can can fix it sort of thing.

●"You're still thinking about Sherlock?" "No, you are." MEANING: HE IS STILL THINKING ABOUT SHERLOCK. AND HE HATED WHAT HE HAD DONE TO SHERLOCK.

●"Sherlock is not your only brother. There's another one is there?" "No." HAHAHAAHHAHAH IT'S A SISTER . WE'RE ALL FOOLS.

●"The man we both love." 

●They have really gone through mad lenghts for their love for John. Mary didn't "properly" kill Sherlock that first time because of John, Mary knew that would break John and didn't want that on her hands even though she was in a tight situation that she could've easily gotten out of. She then saved Sherlock because...she likes him and instict at most but I can't help but think John equals into this as well. Sherlock as saved his life loads and loads of times in many ways and John himself knows this. So this last bit where Mary tells Sherlock to basically be in living hell, Sherlock does it because it's John, he would do whatever it takes. Depression is a tricky thing and when you're really down below it would take a lot to bring that person back up. Especially with a man like him. But I don't like it that this plan is by chance. It almost didn't work. That's how in bad a shape John is right now. 

●Yes, he changed the IV but he knows he's going to die with Smith there. That crack in his voice tells so much. (OMG I LOST MYSELF HERE. DAMMIT BEN.)

●He doesn't want to die because he wants his best friend and the man he loves to save his life. But probably with what happened to them he wasn't so sure about that and this scared him.

●"Oh, you cock." NO I THOUGHT THERE WAS A RECORDING DEVICE UNDER HIS COCK ASDGHHJLJHFSAETUIODOMG

●THIS BIT. HE WANTED JOHN TO STAAAAAYYYYYYYY. I SAW THAT.

●AND JOHN WANTED TO STAY AS WELL BUT APPARENTLY HE'S IGNORING THIS FACT FROM HIMSELF? 

●Sherlock is making so much human efforts like never before this is great, he almost let John walk out the door but no, he asked if he was ok. He asked if he could go see Rosie. He wants John because...he's all he has as well.

●Mary smiling at John's reasoning to Sherlock is himself letting go, admitting he was a major cock himself. 

●Mary teasing Sherlock about Irene is pretty much coming off as a surprise from John. His face says otherwise though for the most part.

●MAN, NO WAY I WAS THINKING OF IRENE WHEN JOHN GAVE THAT INTENSE SPEECH. WHY WAS SHERLOCK LOOKING AWAY? WHY WAS MARY AKA INNER JOHN LOOKING DOWN?

●Mary being silent while John is confessing. This is for John, for him to just admit it, wallow in it and let it go slowly. Telling himself to be better. For Mary and for Sherlock.

●This is what it is. These two are at their most vulnerable in front of each other like never before. This is another pivotal moment in their relationship.

●CAKE AND HATS

●SEX. THIS CAME OUT OF NOWHERE AND IT'S STRANGE.

●First time watching this my head was reeling at this point. I'M SCARED AND EXCITED ON WHAT SHE WILL DO, WHAT SHE HAD DONE AND OMG.

●OK, CAN WE GO THROUGH THE FACT THAT JOHN HAD CHEATED ON MARY WITH SHERLOCK'S CRAZY SECRET SISTER? LIKE..IF IT COULD BE ANYBODY RIGHT? SHERLOCK'S SISTER. 

Final Thoughts: This episode shot to my top 3. There was an urgency in this episode and so much more emotional than the rest. The way it was edited was ever amazing and had awe to it. I like where they take these characters (Mycroft and Smallwood better have a reason) and it tests them. Culverton was as evil as they said he would be. Eurus would be interesting to watch and I hope we'll see more of her though as well. Wonder what the connection between her and Smith and Moriarty would be. My boys, Sherlock and John are put through a test here to see how their relationship would hold and it did. It's not perfect and still needs to mend and heal a bit but it would always be about them. Now for the final epsiode of the season I'm gonna keep my expectations lowered and leveled. John and Sherlock have a chance to be something more and if that moment comes i don't want it to be fan service. But then again their foundation is already there for it to happen if it happens. Either way I'm still in love with this show so much.

[doyouever-daydream]

*WARNING* Sherlock Spoilers (and just me, rambling).

First things first… I’ll be reblogging a lot of Sherlock spoilers, so a little heads up. Also these are ~my opinions~ and you’re free to agree or disagree, just please don’t disrespect. IT WAS TOO MUCH FOR ME, MY BRAIN, MY HEART. WAY. TOO. MUCH.

I’m starting this post while I watch for the second time the episode. I’m just getting to the part in the aquarium so I’ll start crying my eyes out soon… My comments won’t follow the episode’s timeline, my brain it’s just too messed up for that. That little old lady gave me a strange feeling… Oh, was I right about that… Although I’ve never liked Lady Smallwood and kinda wished she was the bad one but oh, well… I just finished watching it again and I can’t, I seriously feel so confused, empty, sad, nostalgic. I feel as if I’ve finished the whole series not an episode it’s just so weird 💔 Back to the old lady Vivian, I genuinely thought she was going to kill herself, I seriously thought “she’s going to pull a ‘Moriarty’ and shoot herself” but no, she pulled the trigger and the rest just broke my heart, when they showed the bullet in slow motion I thought it was someone’s dream or hallucination, for that matter, but never I expected to see Mary dying, at least I wished they would’ve waited until the second episode because she didn’t have enough time with Rosie… Btw it disappointed me to see how short were the scenes related to the baby ALSO I’m not looking forward to how happy this will make to all those who hated Mary and the baby, also that scene after the credits… What. The. Fuck. Mofftiss are just feeding the hate towards Mary… Although there’s just little hope in me that this will be like a code or something, maybe hell is related to Moriarty? I don’t think she’ll come back but I do think she’ll still have a huge impact on the series and will help Sherlock to solve crimes (ok, I’m lying, I do have little hope, that they would bring her back but the rational part of my brain says ‘They won’t stfu’) Anyway, back to my ramble, Amanda Abbington is BEAUTIFUL. So is pretty much everyone in this show but I’ve always loved her eyes, nose and smile… And her hair is *was* gorgeous this series :( Talking about the hair… Jawn Watson got me feeling a little funny, I had a school girl’s crush on him ~and his hair~ even I would’ve given him my phone number ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° now that I’ve got to this point… What. The. Hell. That’s all very unlike the character they’ve shown us so I find it odd BUT I do get, that as humans we tend to have moments of weakness (Note: that bus lady is a little off, I don’t have a good feeling about this, no matter the outcome) Talking about doctor Watson… The fuck is wrong with you!? I do understand he’s grieving and a way of reacting is anger but why towards Sherlock? It’s not his fault, so I hope they can get through this and be happy (I really hope people don’t murder me for this but I do enjoy watching Jlock moments although I don’t ship them, I ship Sherlock with someone else *cough* but from my point of view both ships have moments that gives us, the shippers, so much joy, -and we should focus on that and not on hating other people’s ships, live and let live as Mrs. H once said, anywayyyyy) The first scene made me so happy, it’s more easy for me to say which character I love a little less than to choose just one or two favorites, so I love Mycroft, and I love it when the Holmes brothers get together the whole ‘I’m not good with humans’ scene was also a favorite, I called it, since the moment he said 'I’m not good with them’ I knew he meant humans, oh, Mycroft, some days I am you haha Lestrade is like a fine wine, he gets better with age, my heart bursts out whenever he appears I also loved how excited he got when Sherlock said his name. Mrs. Hudson is still beautiful and she made me feel less sad in that scene where she’s with Sherlock after Mary’s death…. BTW, I think it’s beautiful baby Rosie has three godparents, Sherlock, Mrs. H and my precious little Molly. I didn’t have enough Molly, I need more of her, Molly and Loo, I love them both. Talking about Molly, two things I need to write before I forget, for the very first time I was a little upset because of her (Well, Mofftiss everything I’m feeling right now is because of them, especially Mark) Why? Because she said what John said… I mean, Sherlock’s already feeling like shit, there’s no need to tell him that, smh. But I feel like they had her saying this because this time she is or feels like she needs to be on John’s side… Not sure how to explain this but once she had to lie to John about Sherlock’s death, now as a way of support she follows John’s instructions but on another note, when setlock happened I remember being so excited about this picture of Molly holding the baby and Sherlock there, also whenever Loo said they shared a beautiful moment I thought this could be it, but no, this scene ruined the picture for a few minutes (maybe more but I’ll just read some Sherlolly fics inspired by that picture to feel better). Oh, another thing for one moment I imagined Molly keeping the baby and being a single mother to Rosie (crazy, random thought inspired by the movie 'life as we know it’ probably) Sherlock. Finally got to this character that has grown up (well, sort of haha) so much since the beginning, I loved how he cared so much for the Watsons, I enjoyed how he and Mary were like new BFF’s but nothing lasts forever *cries again* I also loved the fact that he showed Mycroft, Rosie, and obviously the scenes with her just make me so happy, his sentimental side is more explored and I can’t wait to see how they show that on the next couple episodes (that will have me crying and suffering as usual), I hope he doesn’t feel like Mary’s death was his fault, there’s no one to blame.*** Final thoughts It was too much, I’ll say it again, I feel like they tried to put one series in just one episode, had my head spinning just a little but I love this show, always have and always will (probably). Sherrinford. I’ll just leave it there. I feel like 80% of the things I saw during setlock were for this episode… Hmmm right after I wrote that I remembered a bunch of photos from setlock and well… Nope, there’s some things that weren’t on this first episode, I guess my brain is still too messed up to function properly. Right after I finished the episode I wished I could turn back time and still be waiting for the series and live off fanfics because the ~reality~ was too much for me but I’ll get through this and I can’t wait to have my heart broken next week. I’m so thankful for Tumblr, since none of my friends watch Sherlock, here’s the only place I can write about it. ***When there’s no one to blame I mean the characters, although I wished she wasn’t dead, I think her death was kinda lame? I’ll compare it to another TV show I love: Criminal Minds… WARNING CM Spoilers. It was like when they killed Maeve, in both cases they could’ve done something before the killers pulled the trigger, in both shows they’ve done it before, p.e. they’d shoot the person holding the gun before they’d do anything so I do think it’s a little disappointing to see Mary killed this way, just as I thought when I watched that Criminal Minds episode. But when it comes to Mofftiss, writers I admire, it’s even more shocking to me that they decided to have some random lady shoot and ending Mary’s life (although it was aimed to Sherlock, I know, I know) but oh, well, I’m still a sucker for this show. Fun fact I need and want to share, I wrote a fanfic pairing Sherlock with an OC, I re wrote the episodes and made her a part of them plus original scenes, the point is I thought the end of my fic should be after series 3 since there was no way my OC would fit in series 4 but turns out I could so joke’s on me, my imagination will run wild hahaha My rambling ends NOW. Finally.