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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years ago

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BTS Reaction || You Don’t Want Kids [Request]

BTS X Fem!Reader

A/N: I am in no way saying it’s a bad thing to either want or not want kids! It’s down to everyone’s personal feelings on the subject

Seokjin:

Pacing around the bathroom was all you could do to try and calm yourself down, you'd been feeling so sick lately which you thought would pass with time but then you noticed how late you were to your period and you realised what was happening. One of your worst fears could have been coming true at any given moment,

"How long has it been?" You questioned your best friend who was sitting on the other side of your phone, you'd taken the test and laid it face down on the counter so you couldn't see it. You didn't want to see it. This was the one test that had the chance to ruin your life,

"50 seconds since the last time you asked. Why aren't you doing this with Jin?" That was a good question, you knew you should have been with him but you couldn't. Not when having kids wasn't something you wanted.

"He's out-" The door to the bathroom tried to be pushed open but it was locked,

"Babe?" You hung up the phone and threw the test into the bin beside the sink trying to fix your face to make it look like you'd hadn't been crying for the last ten minutes.

"Yeah?" You questioned as you pulled the bathroom door open and looked up at him, he held up a bag in the air.

"I got you some anti-sickness tablets. Gingernut biscuits. The lady in the store said it'll help with cramps," You told him that all of this was because you were on your period, it was the only explanation you could give to him.

"Thanks, you can take it-" You stopped talking when you noticed that his gaze was fixated on something behind you.

"Are you?" You frowned looking over your shoulder, you'd left the box out on the side when you were in a rush to let him into the room, you looked down at your hands as you took in a deep breath.

"I-I don't know. Jin I'm scared." You whimpered as you finally let all the tears go that you'd been holding back for a while, he pulled you into his arms kissing the top of your head. The pair of you were in an agreement where kids were concerned, he didn't want to have any and neither did you. It had been one of the things you'd talked about in earlier days before moving forward with the relationship. Jin stated that he didn't want kids because he wanted to focus on his career and you and you told him about your fears of being a bad mother.

"I think it's been enough time, I should check the test." You mumbled into his chest as you pushed away from his chest and went to get the test from the bin.

"Turn it over," You should sense the nervousness in his voice so you turned it quickly and looked at the screen.

"Not pregnant." Was flashing back at you which made you smile in relief throwing down the stick into the bin and turning to pull Jin into another tight hug.

Yoongi:

It wasn't you that had brought the topic up for discussion it was the boys. You'd all been joking around in the dorms about your future when the subject of children came up into it all and you laughed it off saying you didn't want to have kids. At first, Yoongi brushed it off not wanting to bring it up in front of everyone but as soon as you got back to your shared apartment he had to question you on what you said.

"What did you mean when you said you didn't want kids?" His question was self-explanatory but you looked over at him from the wardrobe, you were getting ready for bed when he brought it up.

"That I don't...want kids?" You questioned, you thought what you said made sense but the frown on Yoongi's face told you otherwise.

"Ever?" You slowly began walking over to the bed and sat down beside him. This wasn't something that you and Yoongi had ever discussed since you'd only been dating for about 6 months.

"Never," You whispered unsure on how he was feeling about this. His face was giving away no indications as to what he was feeling about what you were saying to him. Truth be told he wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about it. The thought of having kids had never bothered Yoongi before now, he'd thought about it in the distant future but he never put real thought into it.

"Do you want kids?" You questioned as you got under the covers and continued to watch Yoongi who was frowning,

"Not yet." Yet. That was the downfall of this. There was a chance he wanted kids. A chance you didn't want to have.

"Yoongi-"

"Do you think you would ever change your mind?" You shook your head at his question softly, it was something you'd felt strongly about for years. Yoongi began nodding his head as he stared down at the covers, he was trying to think everything over. Trying to think about if Kids was something he wanted or something he'd been brainwashed into thinking he wanted.

"Yoongi we should-"

"I don't want kids either," It came out more rushed than he intended it to but he was serious about it,

"No, Yoongi. You don't have to think about it now...We can talk about it and we can be adults about-"

"What's there to talk about? We can have fur babies right?" The thought of being surrounded by dogs instead of crying children was starting to become more appealing by the second to Yoongi. The thought of having another Holly around, someone to keep him company while he was away at work.

"Y-Yeah," You stuttered not expecting him to react so well to this, he just smiled and leant forward to kiss your lips.

"Then fur babies are enough for me," He chuckled as he kissed you over and over again, laying you down on the bed below him.

Hoseok:

Family events were always met with dread in your household, the constant questioning on where you were in your relationship with Hoseok. Why you weren't married yet, why you were waiting so long to get engaged at least and the greatest one of all. Why you hadn't had kids yet. A baby was placed on your lap as you sat with Hoseok in the living room,

"Watch him." Your cousin whimpered as she rushed to the bathroom to pee, she was pregnant with her fourth child.

"Look at you!" Your auntie yelled as she saw you bouncing your cousins baby up and down on your knee, waving your fingers around in front of his face and smiling at him.

"You're going to be a great mother, when are you having kids?" The questioned was directed at Hoseok this time, they knew how shy he was around them and would tell them anything they wanted to hear if it meant they would approve of him.

"I'm not sure, we're still young-" Your brother's loud laughter cut Hoseok off from talking about it and you stared at your younger brother who was shaking his head.

"Y/n doesn't want her own kids, she hates babies." You frowned looking at him and silently begging that he would shut up. The discussion of babies hadn't been brought up yet and you were hoping you could continue to ignore the discussion altogether but it was only a matter of time.

"You don't want kids?" Hoseok questioned slowly, the living room fell into an awkward silence and your auntie took the baby away from you.

"Let's talk somewhere else," You took Hoseok by the hand and lead him up to your old childhood bedroom,

"Didn't you think that was something we needed to discuss?" He was angry and he had every right to be angry with you,

"I didn't think it was important yet-"

"What? Y/n, that's our future you're talking about. I want babies, in fact, I want four." Your mouth fell open as you heard that he wanted four babies, the thought of having one was enough to scare you into never having sex again.

"Hobi, it's not something I want...Before you ask no, I'll never change my mind." You had reasoning behind not wanting to have kids, the fear of never been good enough and seeing what it's done to your family and their relationships was enough to put you off kids forever.

"If I have kids I'll never have my own freedom...My own life." He shook his head as he listened to you, you knew it was deemed selfish by some people but it wasn't something you wanted.

"Will you ever change your mind on the matter?" You shook your head looking up at him sadly, you knew what was about to happen, your mother had warned you it would happen if you ever told someone you didn't want to have kids.

"No," Your voice came out as barely a whisper and Hoseok wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head and sighing. You both knew what this ultimately meant for you both but it didn't have to be right here and now,

"We'll finish this later...Okay?" He questioned looking down into your eyes, you knew it meant things would end as soon as the day was out so you prayed the day would go on longer and last as long as possible.

Namjoon:

The topic of your future together with Namjoon had been coming up frequently in the last couple of days. He'd asked you to marry him and, of course, you said yes since he was the love of your life. You were in the middle of talking about the future plans, how you wanted to travel for a while before marrying him and then it got onto the harder questions.

"How many kids do you want?" He meant it as a small innocent question since it was something everyone knew he wanted. Everyone knew how badly Namjoon wanted to be a father, you'd known it too but you'd pushed it deep down inside of you. Having kids wasn't something you wanted in life.

"I-I don't really want...Any." As soon as the words left your mouth Namjoon stopped talking and looked at you, his mouth was hanging open a little as he tried to comprehend what you said.

"Joonie?" He shook his head as he tried to wrap his head around it,

"But you know I want kids, don't you? It's- It's not something I want to put off," The reality was starting to set in. That you and Namjoon couldn't have a future together unless you gave him something he'd always wanted, something he'd wanted for the longest time.

"Is this just a 'I don't want kids' thing now? Or forever?" His voice was cracking as he stared into your eyes, this was something you should have discussed before getting engaged but the subject had never come up. Whenever it came up in your brain you pushed it away, focussing on how much you loved Namjoon.

"I never want to have kids," Your voice came out as barely a whisper and Namjoon leant back against the sofa he was sitting on in defeat.

"Why?" The question that everyone asked whenever you told them you didn't want to have kids,

"I-I just don't want them, the thought of carrying a baby for nine months is scary enough and then what if I'm not good enough-"

"What if you are good enough? Y/n! You'd be a fantastic mother," You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to do what everyone else around you did whenever they found out that you didn't want to have children. Convince you that you were wrong.

"So it's a deal-breaker for you? If I don't want kids..."

"You don't think you'll ever change your mind?" You shook your head, it was never something you wanted but you wanted Namjoon to be happy, for that to happen it meant ending things so he could find someone to fit his life better.

"We know what we have to do, don't we?" He whispered to you as he looked up at you, you were twirling the engagement ring around your finger as you nodded.

"C-Can we just have tonight together, one night to say goodbye?" He stuttered out to you as he moved closer to you.

"One night to end things on good terms." You agreed with him, leaning your head on his shoulder as you tried not to cry just yet.

It was one night together that helped you both end on good terms, you wanted Namjoon to find someone better and you agreed to stay friends - whether that stuck or not was a different subject.

Jimin:

There was a small baby shower happening for Namjoon and his wife as they got ready to have their first child together, of course, that meant that all of his wife's friends with kids were around the party as well and you'd been left to sit with them on the sofa.

"Where's your little one?" One of the mothers questioned as she bounced a baby on her leg, you swallowed the lump that was in your throat and then shook your head,

"Oh, I don't have or want any kids." You whispered nervously as they looked at you, from past experiences mothers didn't turn to react well whenever you told them this information. You could already see the wheels in their heads turning as they all gave you dirty looks as though they were better than you because they wanted children in their lives.

"Does Jimin know that?" The first mother questioned, her tone was bitchy but you looked at her. She was pointing over your shoulder, you glanced back to see Jimin touching Namjoon's wife's bump while bouncing a child on his hip. The giant smile on his face was something you loved seeing,

"He does, h-he respects that I don't want them." They all hummed in disagreement with the statement and you were left to your own thoughts, the conversation had come up with Jimin before and he told you he wasn't bothered about having children but seeing the way he was around them. It made your heart fall at the thought of taking that away from him so you turned away again.

You were walking up to the house when Jimin finally decided to break the silence that had been hanging over you both since you left the party.

"What's going on baby? You've been so quiet." The sniffle you did, alerted him that something was wrong instantly and he rushed you into your shared home,

"What's wrong?" He panicked forcing you to look at him as he cupped your face in his hands, you shook your head doing anything you could to move away from him but he wasn't letting it happen any time soon.

"Tell me what's bothering you-"

"You want kids, everyone can see it," He frowned, letting you go and watching as you walked away from him.

"All the mums at the party could tell you wanted kids...I-I don't want to be the reason you don't have a family in the future. I don't want you to hate me because I don't want kids." He rushed over to you shaking his head as he heard what it was that was truly bothering you,

"No, no baby. Please don't think like that. I will never hate you...I don't need kids to have a family, you're my family." You sighed hearing him tell you this, you didn't want to be the reason he put things on hold.

"All I need is you." He whispered before kissing your lips softly so you could no longer fight him back on it.

Taehyung:

The guilt had been weighing down on your chest all week since the interview that the boys had done it was just some small TV interview and they were asked questions about their future lives. All of the guys saying the same thing - that they wanted kids which instantly made you sick with worry and guilt as Taehyung seemed to be one of the most excited ones at the prospect of having kids.

"Tae?" You questioned late one night he was laying beside you reading a book on something -- You hadn't been paying attention when he told you what it was since you were busy worrying.

"Yes, darling?" He sat up on the bed, shuffling back so that his back was pressed against the headboard of the bed.

"Did you mean it the other day? When you said you wanted kids?" Your voice came out as a stutter, you'd been trying to think of the best way to bring this subject up all week and nothing seemed right. It was a serious topic that couldn't just be dropped randomly into a conversation.

"I did, why? Are you pregnant?!" The excitement in his voice only made you feel worse for what you were about to tell him, it broke your heart knowing you were about to shatter his future dreams with you. This was something you'd never told anyone before, it wasn't something you wanted everyone to know.

"N-No, I'm not. I don't want to be either?" It came out as a question which struck Taehyung with confusion as he looked at you trying to work out what you were saying to him.

"You don't want kids?" You heard how hurt he sounded by it and you wanted to cry but you nodded your head.

"I should have told you before now...Before we got so deep into our relationship but- It's not something I ever see myself doing." You whispered as you looked up at him, you didn't want to see the hurt on his face but you had to know what he was thinking.

"You don't want kids, ever?" You nodded in agreement with him and he rubbed the back of his neck, he always respected every decision you'd make without questioning it but this time he needed to know the rationalising behind it.

"Why?" That was the million-dollar question that you had an answer for,

"I-I don't think I'd be good at it? It's not something I-I ever see myself doing?" It sounded as though you were questioning yourself, which you weren't, this was something you felt strongly about and nothing would ever change that. Taehyung was unreadable as he stared down at the covers surrounding you both,

"Not even in the future?" His question came out shakey and you shook your head.

"I-Is this a problem?" The reality began to settle in that you might want different futures and not having kids could be a deal-breaker to him, he stayed silent for a couple of seconds as he thought about it all.

"I don't want you out of my life...If not having kids is how I keep you then so be it," That sentence didn't make you feel any better about what was happening,

"Tae this is serious, you can't just say that now. What if you regret it in the future. I don't want you to hate me-"

"I don't want a future if you're not in it, I love you and nothing in this world or universe could stop that," He kissed the top of your head, forcing you to relax in his arms.

Jungkook:

Jungkook's laugh came out louder than usual as he sat across from on the sofa in your shared apartment. You'd been watching movies together all night trying to have a relaxing time together and you'd just finished 'The Waitress' when you decided to tell him you didn't want to have kids. Throughout the movie, he'd commented about how "all women wanted to have kids." Which wasn't true in your case but now he was laughing to himself as you told him that you didn't want them. You knew he wasn't trying to be malicious about it and he just thought you were kidding so you didn't get upset with him.

"You can't be serious, everyone wants kids Y/n." You frowned as he continued to laugh the way he was but it just wasn't true for you. The thought of having a baby wasn't something that appealed to you, even as a kid when other people had baby dolls you didn't. The maternal instinct had never been something you possessed.

"Jungkook...I'm serious, I-I don't want kids. What's so funny about that?" As soon as he realised the sincerity in your voice he stopped laughing and stared at you, his face was unreadable as he stared you dow. You didn't know what to do so you just looked away from him, you didn't want to feel any worse about this than you already did.

"I should have told you before now, you always wanted kids-" His hand moved slowly and he placed it on top of yours. You stopped yourself from talking too much or rambling on when you felt him touch you. Whenever you told someone that you didn't want children in the past they would go on some kind of word rampage about how you didn't mean it but Jungkook was different, you could see in his eyes that he was different from them.

"We don't have to have kids baby," You frowned hearing the words fall from his lips, you were sure you'd heard him talking about wanting kids in the future. This wasn't something you wanted to take away from him and have him regret years later down the line.

"But you want kids, Kookie I don't want you to say no to that because I don't want them," He shook his head at your words, cupping your face in his hands as he stared into your eyes. He began rubbing his thumb along your cheeks as he looked at you, he wanted you to see how serious he was about this. You knew he could never lie to you, whenever he did lie he'd avoid eye contact.

"What I want is you in my life, if kids don't come with that then I'm okay with it. I love you Y/n," You relaxed against his touch leaning your face into his hands as you tried not to tear up so much at what he was saying to you.

"Besides, we can always get dogs or cats...Even one of those giant iguana's." He said excitedly as he began listing off all the different pets you could have instead of having kids. He didn't once question you on your reasoning behind it as many others did before him. It was comforting not having to explain it, that he understood your wishes and he was willing to go along with them.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @rjsmochii @bisexualmess007 @innersooya @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1 @btsxdoll

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thomasofc · 5 years ago

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━━ @hecrtfelts

there had been an agreement . to keep things quiet — to not make it a BIG thing — in fears that people KNOWING would complicate things while they were still finding their footing with one another again . but with only a week or so behind them since their second FIRST date , it seemed that it had hardly taken much time at all for everything to fall BACK into place . for tommy & mal to become TOMMY & MAL once more . he’d thought that there may have been some form of AWKWARDNESS between them as they navigated their way around being back in each others lives . both of them had grown , CHANGED , since the last time they’d been together after all . an adjustment period MUST be on the cards . but the only adjustment period they had to deal with was concerning the whole keeping things QUIET . tommy had been no stranger to keeping emotions & wants under control when the title of FRIENDS still hung over their heads but now that malia schafer was once more his GIRLFRIEND it was about the only thing he wanted people to KNOW . all he wanted to do was be WITH her & not have to bat an eye at who saw them together . his place may have become a quiet sanctuary for them to retreat to , a place they now spent the MAJORITY of their time in , but remembering that what they were in PRIVATE couldn’t find its way out into the world outside of the four walls of his room just yet was getting HARDER & HARDER . they’d spent so many MONTHS apart & with everyday that passed bringing malia’s impending DEPARTURE closer & closer — the feelings of others was becoming a tiring reason to keep them under wraps . he understood why but at the same time , he wanted to make every day count because in a few months , their days together would be NUMBERED in one way or another . it was like a ticking clock in his head , growing louder & louder in his head . harvard , he knew , was a DREAM malia had had for quite some time & there was no denying that he was PROUD of her . but one could also not deny the flicker of apprehension in his stomach whenever he thought about it . boston was 5 hours behind england & with 5265.77 km between them a 6 hour flight — something he’d looked up many a times — was the only way in which he could see her . it wasn’t exactly IDEAL for anyone let alone two people that had just gotten back together after a figurative distance had lay between them . all he could do was HOPE that they’d figure it out once they reached that point in time because if he allowed himself to linger on it too long it was a pathway into thoughts that had broken them up in the first place & that was FAR from somewhere he wanted to go . there may been some frustrations towards their current predicament but at least he got to SEE her — got to BE with her . focusing on the here & now — on HER — was all that really mattered .

but thomas connelley would be lying if he said he didn’t JUMP at the first chance to get away & leave behind the second guessing himself every time he so much as looked at her from across a room just in case his eyes or HER eyes gave something away when they locked upon the other . after all , malia schafer wore her heart on her sleeve . all he wanted was ONE weekend . ONE weekend where there was no one around that knew them . ONE weekend where it was just them . their weekends away had always been one of his FAVOURITE things & with their university year wrapping up & mal was more & more frequently found with her nose glued to a book for hours on end — there was no better time to take a chance . it was a RISK , both skipping town for a WHOLE weekend without drawing some suspicion from mal’s friends if they went around asking the boys questions , but a risk worth taking . pack clothes you can go walking in as well as comfy things , you’re not gonna need anything else — it’s just a couple hours drive away — just TRUST me will you ? this is what he got for keeping a girl that liked to worry in the dark . but it had ALL been worth it when they’d arrived at the end of long winding driveway lined with thick pines on either side to a small , cozy weekend stone cottage overlooking lake vyrnwy . it certainly wasn’t anything fancy , no JAW DROPPING get away to a 5 start resort spa , but it was THEM . it was the perfect place for them to FORGET about the endless amount of school work waiting for them back home , the watchful eyes of friends & any other worries that may be lingering in the backs of their minds . they could spend all day in bed if they wanted . they could tuck their phones away into their bags & curl up in front of the open fire when the spring sun faded from the sky & turned the woodland area surrounding them cool . they could spend hours exploring the area around them & venture into the nearest village . but most importantly they could just BE . he couldn’t have asked for more , it had been EVERYTHING he’d wanted & more . at least , so far .

with eyes switched intense focus between the two mugs of tea between both hands , fingers wrapped securely around each handles , he tried his hardest to keep either of them from losing a single drop of the steaming liquid within as he backed out of the cottage’s small kitchen & snaked his way through the ARRAY of mismatched furniture towards the plush couch in front of the fire he’d left mal curled up on a few minutes ago . though not before managing to snag a packet of biscuits in his mouth that were the first thing to be set down upon the coffee table . though set down was putting in politely , it was more of a HOPE & pray it didn’t hit the mugs in hand toss with a flick of his chin towards the table . but he hardly thought about the possibility of what could have happened if he’d let go a second later because only a few seconds later he was setting the mugs down next to them . “ here we go — they had no fancy smancy tea hidden away in the cupboards so you’re gonna have to make do with good ol’ english breakfast . ” there was a smile shot her way as he lowered himself back down onto the edge of the couch before shifting backwards to allow his back to rest up back against the back cushion of the couch with a quiet sigh , “ but if you hate it ,. you can always pass it off to me — but i WILL say it is worth just having it there to dunk the gingernuts in . i HIGHLY recommend a couple of seconds . makes it not too mushy but just enough so it doesn’t feel like you break your bloody teeth when you bite into the damned thing . ”

#━━ his words betray his true feelings「threads」#━━ his words betray his true feelings「threads ft. mal」

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theworstswiftie · 5 years ago

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I'm having my own positivity hour. Like @friendlyneighborhoodpegacorn does Except since no one sends me asks I'm just gonna tell you every positive thing that has ever happened to me.

1. When I was like 10 I had a friend who was really fond of the band aqua

2. I got roller blades for Christmas once

3. My poppy pop took me to the golf course to see the kangaroos in the morning

4. My nan had gingernut biscuits after school

5. I had a pet rat who realised the cage door was open one night and came to hang out in my bed

6. I gave my mum away at her wedding

7. I went to nyc

8. The girls dressed as merideth and Olivia at the 1989 concert in adelaide

9. Taylor Swift liked my pride photos one time

10. When carpe did the thing

11. My friend amber existing

12. Having my first alcoholic beverage in the governor's house

13. A good home made scone with butter

#positivity

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ukthxbye · 6 years ago

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Lesson Learned

(prompt from @stlgeekgirl with all intentions of being a 500 word challenge which I failed, but still is a drabble technically)

hey go kudos it on ao3 if you liked it!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17593049

“Hey, I’m gonna start the kettle, you want some tea?” Molly yelled down the hall as she dropped her bags and a stack of folders on the desk.

Sherlock yelled through his closed bathroom door. “Excellent idea as always Molly ! I’ll be present in a moment.”

The noise of water stopped down the hall as she started it in the sink in the kitchen, filling and turning the kettle on. She stood tiptoe, pulling down biscuits from the top shelf. No reason bothering with a plate. He’d eat the whole pack while they worked. She rummaged for clean mugs and set the tea bags in. She whispered a thank you at an absent Mrs Hudson for the bowl of fresh lemons.

Kettle beeped as she turned the corner and near dropped the biscuits . “ Sherlock !” she squealed, shutting her eyes tight.

Sherlock stood at the desk, folder in hand and a large white Turkish cotton towel wrapped around his waist. His eyes turned up to see what caused her alarm.

“Molly whatever is the matter?,” he asked breezily looking back at the folder in hand. Words sat at the tip of her tongue and he gazed back at her in anticipation.

“You... towel ... for God’s sake,” she cracked one eye open and risked the other, gesturing wildly with her hand .

He looked down, brow furrowed, “Yes, that is the obvious fact. Why it matters—”

“Bloody hell, I am not having this conversation until you put on some pants ,” Molly sighed.

Sherlock’s lips curled up at the corner, “Just pants then?”

She stared at him. She tried with every bit of her nerve to not follow the lines of his body, starting at those damp curls down to the jawline, to his chest and... she shook her head to push away those thought and put her chin down in her chest .

“No, then ?” He grinned now, and she gulped when she looked up to meet his gaze.

“Trousers, and a shirt too. Please. We have work to do, correct?” She pivoted on her heels and rushed into the kitchen to start the tea, avoiding his continued stare.

He groaned, “Fine, since we are friends which I thought it meant... anyway I hate how clothes feel on my skin after a shower.”

She entered back into the room with their mugs. As she turned her head up for a glance, with a put-on pout he made sure she noticed his lethargic stomping down the hall. She breathed out in relief as she set down the mugs and sat.

- :-

Sherlock entered her flat with his key. He thought to himself how respectful it all was, using keys and not picked locks and windows.

He tossed his laptop on her sofa , ignoring Toby’s meowing at his feet.

“Is that you, Sherlock ?” Molly yelled down her hall.

“Does anyone else have a key?” he shouted back.

“I’ll be in there in a moment,” she huffed out.

Throwing his coat over a chair, he flopped on the sofa and opened his laptop to begin the work on a case he came over to have her assistance.

Toby abandoned his meowing and ran to Molly when she entered her sitting room. Sherlock looked up briefly but then did a double take. Hery pony tail was typical but the rest of her clothing not so much. Tight leggings and a decidedly loose tank top. He interrupted a workout he surmised as he scanned her form.

“If I interrupted …” he began, but she cut him off.

“ Just got done with y oga . So what are we working on today?” She crossed the room and Sherlock turned his attention back to the screen.

“Two murders across town from each other but I feel their injuries are so similar they must be related. I thought perhaps you could review—” He felt his mouth go dry as she leaned over his shoulder, placing a small hand on it. Her flowery perfume overcame his senses, filling his nose. His eyes steadily followed her fingers as she dropped her hand from him and rested it her hip.

“Well, I’ll look them over if you’ve got good photos. If it 's our new specialty register who took them, I have little hope,” she laughed lightly .

“I see ,” is all he managed to murmur in response. His eyes strayed slowly upward but not quite to her face. Her perfume enhanced by the warmth of her body still held in his nose.

Molly knew the effect, she could sense the sudden tension when she touched his shoulder. The perfume sprayed just before she entered the room affected him well . But she was n’t done with her lesson yet.

“ Well , you get those pulled up for me, gonna grab a quick shower ,” she turned and headed toward the hall , hiding a growing grin as she moved away.

Sherlock shook his head , clearing linge ring thoughts as she was no longer there to distract. Back to work, he told himself.

He heard the shower shut off.

“Tea?” he yelled down the hall.

“ Absolutely . Biscuits in their usual spot,” she said back , sticking her head out the door.

Once she heard him rummaging for the coveted biscuits , she slipped on a satin dressing gown over her naked form, a bit on the short side but she knew its effect. “Walk out in a towel. I can play that game,” she whispered to herself as she smoothed down the fabric once more in the mirror. She stepped out and toward the kitchen confidently.

“Do you think the photos will suffice for study?” she said cheerily as she entered the room.

Sherlock stuffed a Gingernut in his mouth before he turned to her and nearly choked on it . His mind raced and went blank, Molly standing much too casually in a short pink satin dressing gown and obviously nothing else.

“You OK?” she asked with a furrowed brow. But he held her stare, and her eyes gave her away.

“ Molly …” he coughed out.

“Whatever is the matter, Sherlock ?” she asked bright eyed as the corner of her lips curling up.

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes.

“I think your point has been made.”

She nodded slowly , “So no more just walking out in your towel then ?”

“Perhaps... we should get back to work, or we could have another conversation we have been avoiding,” he gulped, his thoughts nearly racing too fast for his own good. “But with trousers and shirt on, please.”

“ Perhaps,” she smirked as she backed her way out of the room.

#sherlolly #mollock #Sherlock Holmes #molly hooper #fluff and humor #its a bit spicy too like a gingernut biscuit

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idratherstayslytherin · 6 years ago

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My Drarry Fics Rec (Bc Why Not)

So I though I share with you (all my lovely followers) my favourite Drarry fics/fics that I really enjoyed. Gosh, I’d love to record a podfic of one of those, but like idk. Also, I might make another one of this kind of post. ENJOY.

Lost Children by gracie137

Summary: There's a lot of things Harry doesn't expect to happen after the War but Narcissa Malfoy invoking his life debt to her and asking him to save her son is top of the list.

My review: OMG! This fic has become literally one of my favourites since I finished reading it few days ago. There is everything you need even if you never knew you needed it. There is broken Draco, who is still the Draco we know from the end of the war. He is not at his best as he is almost a dead man. There is Harry who is SO WELL WRITTEN (as is everybody else), He is so cold toward Narcissas’ demand , but then he softens a little while spending time with Draco. Yet he still stays true to his book character, he doesn’t just forgive Draco, he doesn’t try to pretend like things Draco did were okay, and his cowardness doesn’t excuse what he did. The falling in love part is so beautiful, YOU WILL CRY. There is a lot of Lucius hate which I love, Narcissa is also not as nice as people sometimes paint her in her fics. She’s slightly better than Lucius, but still kind of bitch. It’s bc she loves Draco though. AND GET THIS, there is also Blaise and Pansy which are so fucking supportive, sassy, and geniuely good friends. I totally love tchem here. There is also amazing Ron and Hermione. NO GINNY BASHING and beautiful Linny . Draco and muggle things, Draco being responsible for his dark past. THERE IS GORG DRACOS’ REDEMPTION. READ IT.

YOU WILL CRY. DON’T DENY IT. GET A LOT OF TISSUES.

The Sleeping Beauty Curse by who_la_hoop

Summary: When Draco Malfoy falls into a cursed sleep and can only be woken – at least, according to the Daily Prophet, that impeccable source of truth – by ‘true love’s kiss’, Harry Potter knows there’s no way on earth he’s the answer to this particular riddle. Is he . . .?

My review: FUUUUUUCK! If you’re into fake/pretend relationship, a lot of angst, jealousy, humor, redemption and whole lot of wanking then this is fic for you. Harry truly hates Draco at the beggining of this fic and gives no fucks about the Malfoys. CHARACTERS ARE SO FUCKING WELL WRITTEN I CAN”T EVEN.

Draco has a huge heart, but is also a fucking idiot and definitely not a saint. He knows what are his mistakes and he tries to be better. His road to become decent human being and change his views on muggle borns, pure bloods, half-bloods. He pays for his mistakes. He struggles a lot, okay? He just wants to be loved and give love. He is sweet without being sweet, if you know what I mean. He just loves Harry so much and Harry is oblivious af. Harry is pinning really hard, at some point your heart breaks for both of tchem bc there is so much pinning, so many emotions flowing. SO MUCH “COMFORTING” and whole lot of not so phisical comforting. Their relationship is beautiful.This fic destroyed me in a good way. I don’t want to say more bc it ruins all the suprises.

YOU WILL CRY.

No Shadow Taller Than Our Souls by khasael

HEY LOOK THERE IS ALSO A PODFIC OF THAT AND I’M TOTAL SLUT FOR IT BC I LOVE PODFICS AND I LISTENED TO THIS ONE. JUST DONT FORGET TO LEEAVE KUDOS ON THE PODFIC AND WRITTER FIC.

Summary: Auror Potter and Unspeakable Malfoy team up to investigate a series of missing persons, and it soon becomes apparent that Dementors are involved. Despite their initial misgivings, Harry and Draco find that they need each other's help, in more ways than one.

My review: This also may be one of my favourite fics! It’s so gorg I can’t ven describe it. I love Unspeakable Draco and Auror Harry teaming up and working on a case together while they talk about their past and try to understand one another . I LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS DYNAMIC SO MUCH. I don’t want to spoil anything , but I’ll just say that the case is pretty interesting and Drarry’s relationship development will make you cry and you’ll feel this h=fic Warming your heart.

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl.

PODFIC

Summary: Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

My review: IF YOU DON”T ALREADY KNOW WHO IS Saras_Girl THEN ARE YOU EVEN A DRARRY SHIPPER?! I’M A HUGE SLUT FOR ALL OF HER WORKS. This one gave me so many feels I don’t know if I can process it.

This fic will forever stay in my heart. It starts off by usual Draco/Harry kind of childish rivalry, but when Harry is rushed into the hospital bc of SOMETHING THAT HAPPENS., Draco is there by his side. He feelsso much guilt, but also so much hate, but then something that isn’t hate at all. I love how sweet yet still Dracoish Draco is. He has grown up and you can definitely see that. There is still old Draco inside him. Harry is so in love it hurts, Draco’ s heart might explode from loving Harry. You can feel all the feels. I LOVE DRARRY TALKS IN HERE AND DRACO’S PET. I just love everything about this fic. GO READ or LISTEN TO IT NOW.

House Proud by astolat.

PODFIC BC YES I’M STILL A SLUT FOR THEM

Summary: His house liked Draco Malfoy more than him.

My review: Let’s keep it short. Harry is confused, angry, sassy, annoyed, Draco is annoyed, sassy, kind of a tosser and definitely super duper into scarhead. He doesn’t want to help Harry, but he is forced to, right? That’s why he stays with him for so long. I love their dynamic here.

And an Owl Named Romeo by Rickey

GUESS WHAT? PODFIC

Summary: Draco breeds owls, Harry's an Auror, and an owl named Romeo is going to bring them together.

My review: Um. I totally love “cold” and “totally not interested and annoyed Draco” and Harry who just “wants to know more about breading owls”. I’ll let you figure out why I love this fic so much. ( a little help: PINNING, LATE NIGHT TALKS, FORGIVNESS)

Stately Homes of Wiltshire by waspabi

well… YOU KNOW WHAT

Summary: Malfoy Manor has mould, dry rot and an infestation of unusually historical poltergeists. Harry Potter is on the case.

My review: Sooooooo, I read that a while ago, but I remember crying and my heart breaking. There is so much humor in here as well if I remember well. So it’s a good fic!

Reparatio by astolat

A little AUDIO as you of course need it

Summary: Draco snorted. “I’m not reduced to penury. I want something considerably beyond money, and I rather think you’re the only one can give it to me.”“You want the Invisibility Cloak,” Harry said, flatly. He’d half expected as much; it was the only thing he had that Draco could want—“Don’t be stupid, Potter,” Draco said. “I want my reputation back.”

My review: Draco is really a little shit here. He is so arogant and he is using Harry for his publicity after the war (well kind of himself too) has taken that away from him. You won’t like him here instantly, but you’ll grow to love him, I promise you. The end is just PERFECT.

Landslide by Libby Drew

by this point you should know what is HERE

Summary: Harry Potter disappears, taking a sick Teddy Lupin with him. While everyone searches for their missing hero, Draco's life continues as it always has. Rumors of curses and kidnapping don't interest him. As Hogwarts' guardian, he has only one concern: the strange, miraculous events occurring on the cliffs outside the castle walls.

My review: I’ll just say that Drarry with Teddy is my weakness and I cried through that fic a lot. So just, BE READY TO FEEL YOUR HEART BREAK AT ANY TIME. It’s such a sweet, sad and healing fic. You really should listen to the recording, (BUT LEAVE KUDOS UNDER THE WRITTEN VERSION TOO).

What We Pretend We Can't See by gyzym

for HEADPHONERS (it’s like 12-13 hours, so make some tea, draw, and listen)

Summary: Set 7 years after the Battle of Hogwarts: Auror Potter is summoned to a break-in at a rather eccentric little museum in the house he used to own

My review: THIS IS MY ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE FIC (well one of tchem, but you get me). evrything is so fucking well written, you feel all the emotions, characters stay true to their bookselves. You will: smile a lot, cry a lot and possibly experience heartbreak, but hey! It’s all fun and games, right?

Burning Day: A Tale Of Rebirth by tealeaf523 (ConstantComment)

You guessed it - PODFIC

Summary: Looking for a bit of solitude over his winter holiday, Harry Potter rents a home in Scotland, only to end up in the middle of adventure amongst the snow-blanketed hills. There is a local in Castle Valley who looks uncannily like his Hogwarts school rival, but he has no memory of meeting Harry in the past. However, Harry is determined to find out what happened to Draco Malfoy between his disappearance and finding his new identity as a charming unicorn trainer at the Scotland Unicorn Reservation for Lost Youths.

My review: SO MANY EMOTIONS. A LOT OF FLUFF, BUT THEN ANGST, AND HEARTBREAK, SO MUCH LOVE YOU’LL DIE. Harry is so in love and you’d be like ewejgihwebfhdijwerufyugfuiwrejflkwejrf2q3fuhjefiofc. Draco is pinning hard as well. Harry is confused af here.

Seeing Draco Malfoy by khalulu

If you’d rather listen THEn THERE YOU GO , podfic sluts unite

Summary: It's a few years after the war, Harry is an Auror, Ginny's broken up with him, and Draco runs a "Magical Repairs and Reparations" service. And then there’s Ignatius – devastatingly good-looking, temperamental, and addicted to gingernut biscuits. When Harry loses his glasses in a fight and learns that they’ve landed in Draco’s hands, he’s suspicious. But soon after that, life starts looking up.

My review: Honestly this fic is just Harry finding excuses to visit Draco again and again and I’m in love. I love this Draco so SO MUCH. Give it a read, or a listen if you are AMAZING.

The Moon Looks Lovely Tonight by Omi_Ohmy

🎧

Summary: When Harry moves into the damp and empty Black house, it doesn’t quite feel like home. And then the first owl moves in. After that, it’s a steep slope leading to bed-sharing, more owls, assorted housemates, strange potions experiments, and terrible cooking. And a bit of waltzing, too.

My review: It was one of the first Drarry fics I read (listened, but shhhh) and it holds special place in my heart. I love their road to falling in love. Harry is so sweet I cry everytime I remember how awkward/pinning/caring/sweet he is. Draco is a little shit, but he loves Harry so much. There is Ron and Hermione, Luna and Goyle and they all live at Grimmauld Place with Harry. Honestly, by the end you’ll be sobbing and you’ll feel all the feels, bc our two idiots in love are so in love.

Because Potter Is Allergic to Poppies by Lomonaaeren

🎧

Summary: Auror Harry Potter is in hospital being treated for a curse when someone tries to kill him. Obviously it is up to bored, trapped Apprentice Healer Draco, who was only admitted to the Healer Program in the first place to do the menial work, to find out who did it. Because then they will promote him. No, it’s for no other reason, thanks.

My review: MY HEART CLENCHES EVERYDAMN TIME THEY ARE PROTECTIVE OF EACH OTHER AND DON’T TAKE ANYONE’S BULLSHIT. THEY ARE SO IN LOVE - YOU MIGHT DIE FROM THE FEELINGS. THE CASE ITSELF IS SO INTERESTING YOU WON’T WANT TO PUT THIS FIC AWAY.

Redemption by khasael

🎧

Summary: When Draco runs into Harry Potter in Muggle London, he has no idea how much the chance encounter will change his way of life. How much is he willing to learn about forgiveness?

My review: I listened that a looooooooong time ago, but I loved it and I know that bc hello I made few sketches of our boys just bc I was listening to it. It inspired me to start my art.

The Owl Who Came for Christmas by dracogotgame

🎧

Summary: Draco has a debt to pay off, no matter what Potter thinks. And he has a Very Good Idea to go along with it. Things don't go as planned.

My review: MY TOP FAV!! It’s so fluffy and so funny. Their relationship development is truly a gift to this world. Its such a good ’Eight Year Fic. Definitely fel good fic.

Liar by jad

Summary: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy always preferred the worst of each other; unfortunately, they had better halves.

My review: THIS HURTS LIKE A BUTT CHEEK ON THE STICK . YOU’LL SOB. ((Infidelity - H/G D/A))

Right Hand Red by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill)

HOW IS THERE NOT PODFIC OF THAT?!?!?!!??!!?

Summary: Harry felt Malfoy's breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory. Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy. Malfoy felt inevitable.

My review: GOSH. It’s such a hot, but also fluffy, angsty and feel good fic, if you like party games then you’ll love it!

One Night at the Leaky by birdsofshore

Summary: Harry should have known better than to accept a drunken dare. Especially when Malfoy was sitting right there, looking like that and wearing those bloody tight trousers.

My review: SO MUCH PASSION, SO MUCH ATTRACTION, SO MUCH WANT. Harry might just have a little crush. Seamus is a wanker. All of Harry’s friends know he really has it bad when it comes to Draco Malfoy.

Good Company by Greenflares

🎧

Summary: With Hermione and Ron always together, Harry's return to Hogwarts to complete his education isn't exactly fun. Somehow, it's his unlikely friendship with Malfoy that keeps him sane.

My review: long time no read, but I remember it being fluffy, feel good fic, with a bit of an angst, maybe. I liked it.

Moments Like These by charmed310

Summary: For years Draco and Harry have met twice a month in posh Muggle hotels to engage in a little extra-marital fun, no strings attached. Things take a turn when Draco admits his true feelings for Harry.

My review: OH GOD. YOU WILL BE SO ANGRY. YOU WILL FEEL SO FLUSTRATED, SO SAD. Maybe a little satified. Honestly I don’t remember if this ends well :))))))

(INFIDELITY H/G)

Where Your Treasure Lies by Queenie_Mab

🎧

Summary: Harry and Draco meet again through a journal created by the Department of Mysteries. They face many trials in life together and eventually discover that a love like they have is a force not even death can break.

My review: It’s really healing my heart a little. Okay, maybe a LOT.

Collect Your Courage by mervab

Summary: Potter needs control; Draco needs forgiveness. They shag; Lavender gives advice; they yell; Seamus makes muffins; they fight; and everyone else drinks far too much coffee for their own wellbeing.

My review: LOVELOVELOVETHISSOMUCH. Seamus is such an amazing character here, just like Lavender. They are great friends to Draco. Everything is complicated and they are both oblivious idiots.

#drarry #drarry squad #harry potter #hpdm #ao3 #fanfic #fic rec #fic recommendation #olas's fic recommendation #drarry fic rec #draco malfoy

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anchored-in-high-tide · 6 years ago

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New Chapter online :)

Check out the first three chapters: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17092448

Sherlock’s Chapter: Gentle Treatment

And you can tell everybody This is your song. It may be quite simple but Now that it's done I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind That I put down in words How wonderful life is Now you're in the world.

Elton John, Your Song.

December began and 221B Baker Street was illuminated by fairy lights John had spread all over the sitting room. Sherlock didn’t put up a fight at the sight of the little lights arranged over the fireplace and on the windowsills, especially because he had terribly missed the way John decorated the flat for Christmas, even if he would never admit that. It was just one of the things that made the space feel like a real home, something Sherlock had subconsciously wished for as long as he had been on this earth. His mind wandered back to dark places, to cold months without John’s little lights to guide a way back home, to years of icy isolation from everyone and everything he held dear. He had reason to hope now that he would never have to go back there. Because John was with him now.

The way John cared for Sherlock was everything he needed to seal all the gaping holes and cracks in his being. He had been broken down to his very essence, endured more trauma and heartbreak than he could count, but now, with John back at his side, he would build himself back up again, in new brighter colours, with more windows in his walls to let John’s sunlight in.

There were still secret, ash coloured corners in his mind that someday, maybe, he would open up to John’s golden embrace if he ever mustered the courage to. Every time he let John catch a glimpse of the desolation that lay behind his barricades, allowing him to see all the ways he was a misfit in this bleak universe, Sherlock was sure that his friend would be appalled. How couldn’t he be? But then John was just… kind to him, kind and calm and steady. Sherlock knew that he could trust him unconditionally when it came to fighting the wars of the world but burdening him with the mountains of pain he carried on his shoulders would certainly break even the bravest of men. He had put John through enough already.

He was content to just bath in John’s radiance every day, to soak up his warmth, and fight the demons of his past on his own. As long as John was by his side, Sherlock knew that he would emerge victorious.

As they sat down one December evening, both exhausted from assisting Lestrade on a case which unfortunately called for a lot of lengthy stake-outs, the flat lay in comfortable silence. Mrs. Hudson had already put Rosie to bed in her room where she, fortunately, slumbered now. John made tea and handed Sherlock a couple of gingernuts with his cup and a quiet smile before he slumped down on the sofa and turned on the telly.

Sherlock had noticed that these little caring gestures had increased exponentially since they had returned from Norfolk. At first, Sherlock had hated it; He was angry at himself for breaking down at the precinct, displaying such weakness, and angry at John for trying to coddle him. However, pushing John away with snarky remarks and cruel comments had stopped working a long time ago. John just rolled his eyes at him and stayed stoically right where he was, only showing his hurt in the most minuscule ways possible. These little markers—brows a little too furrowed, jaw a little too clenched—made Sherlock realize that John was genuinely worried about him. Wasn’t it cruel to forbid him to act on his protectiveness? After all, Sherlock would rather John cared about him than go back to a world where John was not only indifferent to his pain but even inflicting it purposefully. John taking care of him had never once been a disadvantage, not to mention that Sherlock enjoyed the hopeful tingling in his chest when John displayed signs of affection. So, what use was in fighting it? His anger followed no logic. Therefore, his reactions needed to change.

Instead of snapping at John, Sherlock now followed a new approach altogether: He tried to reciprocate these acts up to his own capability—which didn’t allow for much, really. Pleasing people was not Sherlock’s strong suit; that had been made clear throughout his entire life. Yet, there had to be ways for him to show John how much he loved having him around again but, as always, Sherlock couldn’t quite figure out what made John Watson tick.

So, he carefully conducted tiny experiments. His past activities—trying to limit his deductions to people outside of his close circle, calming Rosie whenever John was especially stressed, taking his opinion into account whenever he remembered to—had proven quite successful if John’s overall happy demeanour was any indicator. Doing the dishes and the shopping seemed to work, too, while any drink or food Sherlock prepared in order to please John was met with open suspicion. Considering how often he had traced his food with differing substances for experiments, that actually was no wonder, Sherlock presumed. Still, he was pretty disappointed with this outcome since he discovered that the chemistry of baking actually had a very meditative effect on his racing mind. He would just keep trying; maybe John would get over his vigilance eventually. Other endeavours, however, proved completely fruitless, such as opening John’s mail and paying his bills or arranging his clothes in a more convenient order. Sherlock mentally marked these activities as failures and made sure to derive as much information from John’s reaction as possible. Apparently, going through the things John regarded private was a bit not good although these invisible lines people always drew seemed completely random to Sherlock. And gradually he ran out of ideas. Undoubtedly, further research was necessary.

The day before, when John had left him alone in the flat, Sherlock had sat down with his laptop and spent the next few hours googling phrases like “how to be a good friend”. The results varied from partly useful to wildly preposterous. It appeared that a friend was supposed to compliment his counterpart, be trustworthy and reliable, make sure the other felt happy, help them in difficult situations, and display affection for them in various ways. Especially the last point sounded exceptionally tedious but the harvest might still justify the labour.

“The tea always tastes better when you make it,” Sherlock now said after taking a sip, his voice timider than he had desired.

John was clearly baffled by the compliment; His head jerked around with such rapid movement that he almost spilled his own cup of tea in his eagerness to look at the younger man. His eyes scanned Sherlock’s features for signs of dishonesty or mockery but found only a coy smile curling full lips. Slowly, John’s expression relaxed and reflected Sherlock’s smile.

“Thank you, Sherlock. That’s… I’m glad,” he said, still hesitating a little. Sherlock was not quite satisfied with his reaction.

“And I like your new button-down,” he added, trying to sound serious and friendly at the same time—not an easy combination to master for him. “The colour really suits you.”

To his discontent, John just rolled his eyes at him and playfully snapped: “Yeah, right. Give it a rest, you git.” He turned his gaze back to whatever was on the telly and slightly shook his head in what Sherlock could only guess was some form of scepticism.

“But, John, I mean it.” Weren’t people supposed to be pleased by compliments?

John chuckled disbelievingly and fixated him again, eyes narrowed in exaggerated suspicion. “You set one of my jumpers on fire again and now you want to build up to an apology,” he accused him jokingly.

“No, of course not.” This really wasn’t the way Sherlock had imagined this conversation to go. The few times he had paid people compliments—for the sole purpose of manipulating their feeble egos—it had always worked. Why did things never go according to plan with John Watson?

“Then why are you being so nice?” John asked, his voice now displaying equal parts of amusement and concern. Sherlock was suddenly very aware of his hands and thankful for the cup to wrap around.

“Just trying something,” he mumbled into his tea, avoiding John’s eyes. Sherlock was not sure how to evaluate this new approach but acquiring additional data would have to wait until tomorrow. He couldn’t possibly endure any more of this awkwardness right now.

“Right.” John dragged out the word and redirected his attention to the telly.

The rest of the evening was spent in relative quietude while both men dwelled on their own thoughts. At half past ten, John got up and made his way to the bath- and then the bedroom. Sherlock gave him the usual ten-minute head start before he followed suit. As he entered the bedroom, their bedroom now, John was already rolled to a tight cuddly burrito of blankets, ready to fall asleep in an instant. Sherlock slid under the covers next to him, his back to John, and reached over to turn off the bedside lamp.

In the all-cloaking darkness, John’s soft voice, already muffled by imminent sleep, floated to his ear: “It’s nice when you’re being kind, Sherlock. Just took me by surprise a little, I guess. But I like it.”

“You do?” Sherlock whispered. Why did his voice suddenly sound so hoarse?

“’Course I do,” said John, barely conscious. A minute later his breaths were already so deep and steady that Sherlock was sure he had fallen asleep. His own transport, however, didn’t allow him to drift off that easily. John’s words still rang in his head, demanding a revaluation of the evening’s development; Compliments were useful to display affection and appreciation after all. Sherlock would just have to apply them regularly so John knew he was being serious. That wasn’t that hard. There were thousands and thousands of little positive things Sherlock noticed about John and just never found the necessity—or the nerves—to utter. Give at least five compliments daily, Sherlock wrote on his mental checklist. He could still adjust the amount according to John’s reaction later on. Satisfied with his results and a little proud, Sherlock lay in the dark and felt a grin perk up the corners of his mouth.

Next to him, John began to toss and turn, uneasy moans escaping his throat. Sherlock suspended his own breathing to listen closely, not sure how to categorize these sounds. Was John having a nightmare? Or… a different kind of dream? Carefully, Sherlock turned to his other side and tried to make out John’s face. His features were barely visible in the gloom but Sherlock believed they looked rather pained than pleased. He was just about to move closer for a better look when John’s eyes sprang open. They struggled to pierce the darkness and, then, found Sherlock’s.

“Sherlock?” John’s voice had an unsettling quality to it.

“John?” Sherlock answered and simultaneously fumbled for the bedside lamp to finally see John’s expression.

“I don’t feel so good, I think I might be—,” John began but the rest of the sentence was lost because he sprang from the bed and rushed into the bathroom. Seconds later, Sherlock heard a nasty combination of gagging and splashing sounds. Oh, no.

Worriedly, he rose and poked his head through the door to find John kneeling in front of the toilet, still violently throwing up. Sherlock had a strong stomach usually; a prerequisite for being a detective and a scientist. He couldn’t remember the last time something had really made him sick. For goodness sake, he experimented with severed body parts as often as he could get his hands on anything from the morgue. But somehow, in an inexplicable flash of concern, seeing John on his knees, his body heaving in painful contractions, was too much for him. His whole system shut down. Sherlock could only stand in the doorway, frozen in panic, staring at his friend. Oh, no, John’s sick. Not good. John can’t be sick. Oh, no, his mind spiraled. Mycroft had been so right; Caring was not an advantage. It just disabled any rational thought.

Finally, John’s body lost tension and slumped into a little trembling mess of limbs on the cold floor tiles. With weak hands, he flushed the toilet and turned around to look at Sherlock, who still gawked at him with bright blue eyes wide open in distress.

“Get Rosie out of here,” John panted, his face white as a sheet and bedewed with sweat. “I can’t risk that she contracts this too, she’s too small!”

The addressed didn’t move.

“Sherlock!”

At last, his brain decided to respond to John’s words and kicked his body into action. He rushed out of the bathroom and yelled for Mrs. Hudson until she finally—hours later, Sherlock was sure—came hurrying up the stairs in her nightgown. Her face mirrored the alarm Sherlock couldn’t wipe off his own features. Yet, as he just cried out that John was sick, her fearful expression eased into slight concern laced with something almost resembling amusement. How was John being in pain funny?!

“Good God, Sherlock, I thought someone was about to blow up the flat again,” she chuckled in apparent relief.

Sherlock was about to snap at her for her lack of understanding the incredible seriousness of the situation but then decided there were more pressing issues to address. He quickly shooed Mrs. Hudson upstairs to grab Rosie from her crib and get her to the safety of her own flat before the little girl could get in contact with him or John. Fear and concern still fogged his mind as he paced up and down the sitting room, waiting for Mrs. Hudson to bring Rosie down.

After they finally had left, Sherlock returned to John, finding him sitting on his side of the bed. His face was still rather pale but at least the shivering had stopped. John shot him an apologetical smile while Sherlock just stood in the doorway, unsure how to proceed. He wanted to make John feel better, no matter what it took. That was what a good friend was supposed to do. And he wanted to be a good friend for John Watson, so badly. First and foremost, he needed data. Data formed the universe’s fabric. Data brought sense and logic and security.

“When and what did you eat and drink last?” asked Sherlock, his voice slipping into the matter-of-fact but eager tone he used on clients.

“Ehm, a cup of tea and biscuits with you, like four hours ago.” John rubbed his face and Sherlock’s stomach clenched at the sight of his friend’s evident fatigue and discomfort. Seeing John suffer in any form always afflicted him with the nagging sensation of acid burning through his inner organs. Empathy was surely one of the most useless and counterproductive outcomes of evolutionary history ever. Thank God, Mycroft wasn't here to witness his reactions.

“Hm, can’t be it, I’ve had the same thing and I’m fine,” Sherlock said and waved his hand dismissively, now beginning to pace the room again to wear off some of the nervous energy seething in his body.

“I had a sandwich for lunch at two-ish, that’s it,” John said after short consideration.

“Unlikely. First symptoms of food poisoning normally occur two to six hours after ingestion,” replied Sherlock, his bare feet tapping on the bedroom floor in anxious movement.

“I know, Sherlock, I’m a doctor.” John rolled his eyes at him, although his words bore less of the annoyance he usually used when Sherlock spurned his medical expertise. He really was etiolated.

“So, it’s most likely a stomach bug. Good call to get Rosie out of here.” Sherlock once again admired John’s ability to prioritize everyone else’s safety and well-being, even while vomiting his heart out.

“You should go too, I don’t want you to be sick,” John said softly as if to highlight Sherlock’s thoughts.

“John, I’ve been in very close proximity to you over the last 48 hours. If it’s the stomach flu, I’ve already caught it by now.”

“Still, the next couple of hours won’t be fun,” John replied with a weary smile. “You don’t need to see that or lose sleep over me.”

Sherlock halted and fixated his friend, looking for signs of dishonesty or rejection, yet finding nothing but sincere concern. Even now, John was more worried about Sherlock being uncomfortable than about his own tarnished health. Ever the good doctor.

Whenever Sherlock had been sick as a grown-up, he had been completely alone. Whenever his transport fell ill and he was confined to his rooms, alone with his thoughts, nothing to console him; those were the only occasions Sherlock craved company. He always wished for someone to take care of him and guide him through the disposition, to sit by his bedside and coddle him as his mother used to when he was only a child with too much going on under his dark curls. Sherlock then usually cursed his mind for being too weak to fight off this sentimentality and fruitless wishes because, of course, no one ever showed up to look after him. Until a certain ex-army doctor limped into his life.

Sherlock had noticed it the second John had stepped into the lab at Bart’s: the overwhelming and soul-devouring loneliness. He had known in that very moment that no one had ever taken care of John either. That he had probably lain in a hospital bed, recovering from a wound sustained while protecting others, all by himself, forsaken. He had read his need for companionship, for a purpose, for a home, as clearly as if it had been written on the man’s forehead in neon letters. And he had seen how close the doctor was to contravening his core values and ending the misery he deemed his existence.

An echo of the same sense of responsibility Sherlock had experienced all those years before rang in his chest. He would never let John fight sickness or injury or anything the world might inflict on him alone ever again. Not, if there was any other way.

“I’m not leaving,” he said, unwaveringly.

“Sherlock—,” John began his attempt to object but Sherlock cut him off with an adamantine stare.

“I. am. not. leaving.” To corroborate his words, he climbed back into bed, pulled his blanket up to his waist and crossed his arms, pouting.

“Right. Fine,” John shrugged and Sherlock was almost certain that he heard a little chuckle accompanying his words, as his friend slid back under the covers.

***

John threw up two more times that night, his empty stomach regurgitating nothing but gastric juice. In an aftermath of shaking limbs and sweat-soaked pyjamas, he barely conquered the few steps back from the bathroom before his body could collapse beneath him. With every passing minute, Sherlock grew more worried and frustrated by his own inability to help him. John couldn’t drink even the smallest amounts of water without his body pumping it right out again. His gaze became fuzzy and unfocused, the few words he spoke were unintelligible. Sherlock tentatively reached out to the man next to him and placed his slender fingers on John’s forehead; he was burning up.

“You run a fever,” Sherlock said, his voice thick with concern. That someone as tough and sturdy as John could be knocked out by some stupid microorganisms was just not right.

“Hm, hand’s cold,” John murmured with eyes half-closed, being drawn to a dreamless exhausted unconsciousness.

“Oh, sorry.” Sherlock quickly retreated but John frowned and quickly added: “No, s’nice.”

As the younger man’s pale hand returned to his skin, John’s face relaxed again. His eyes slid closed completely and a soft satisfied bumbling vibrated in his throat. The fact that he was able to alleviate John's discomfort relieved Sherlock immensely. He adjusted his own figure to a more comfortable position, now sitting beside his friend with crossed legs and his sheets wrapped around his shoulders. He cooled John’s forehead, switching hands whenever their body temperatures aligned, and watched as John drifted back and forth between sleeping and waking. Slowly, pale sunlight crept into the bedroom.

“What’re you humming?” John finally asked barely audibly, prying his eyes open with strenuous effort and groggily fixating Sherlock. Under his gaze, Sherlock stopped his mind from studying John’s endearing features in the faint light of the rising day. Humming? He? Had he really? Quickly, he tried to identify the melody still lingering on his lips. Oh. At the realization, his cheeks turned pink.

“Your Song, Elton John,” he said, embarrassment tinting his voice. “My mother always used to sing to me whenever I couldn’t sleep, no matter how old I was, whether I was sick or just agitated or scared or sad—.” His voice trailed off, stumbling over the memories. Forcefully pulling his thoughts back from that path, Sherlock rolled his eyes in an attempt to disguise the emotion invading him and added: “She wasn’t one for traditional lullabies, always just sang me random songs she liked. Your Song was one of her favourites.”

“I like it, too. It’s a good song,” John approved and gave Sherlock a warm smile that calmed his nerves. It was one of the puzzling talents of John Watson; When Sherlock’s mind was tearing at him, galloping in a thousand different directions, John could steady him. With a single smile, one softly spoken word, one firm but tender hand on his shoulder, John Watson could anchor him even in the greatest of storms. He was solid and constant and safe.

“It's a little bit funny this feeling inside, I'm not one of those who can easily hide,“ John began to sing gently, more as to remind himself of the lyrics. Sherlock loved hearing John sing; his voice was rich and extraordinarily expressive as if music unlocked something deep inside of him that was usually not allowed to see the light of day. More times than he cared to count, Sherlock had listened to John crooning songs to himself while making tea or breaking into song under the shower when he thought no one could hear him. Every time, an unfamiliar sensation spread in Sherlock’s body, sailing on his bloodstream to even the remotest of his shores.

Listening to John now, his voice still muffled by sleep and fever, didn’t fail to evoke this response either. Without his permission, Sherlock’s lips curled into a cherishing smile.

“I don't have much money but boy if I did I'd buy a big house where we both could live,” John continued, reverberating Sherlock’s smile even brighter upon meeting the pallid eyes hovering above him. He radiated a warmth that had nothing to do with the fever. Sherlock’s heart skipped a beat.

“If I was a sculptor, but then again, no, or a man who makes potions in a traveling show, I know it's not much but it's the best I can do. My gift is my song and this one's for you.” John’s voice became more confident and Sherlock no longer fought the adoration that shone from his face.

“And you can tell everybody this is your song,” he cautiously joined John in the chorus, their voices intertwining into an enchanting harmony. Goosebumps spread from the base of his skull.

“It may be quite simple but now that it's done I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is while you're in the world.”

***

Only two hours later, the flu got hold of Sherlock, as well, although not as badly; he only threw up once and slumbered next to the still feverish John for the remainder of the day. As the sun began to set again and Sherlock trudged off to the kitchen to get a glass of water, he found a get-well-soon note from Mrs. Hudson next to a tray loaded with salty crackers, herbal tea, and a pot of chicken soup; obviously a substitute for her usual afternoon tea and biscuits. Sherlock resolved to thank her next time he saw her—if he remembered to. He reheated the soup, made them each a cup of herbal tea, and carried everything back to the bedroom. This being-a-good-friend-thing became easier by the minute.

As Sherlock lay in bed, comfortably nestled in his blankets only inches away from John, who had his laptop on his knees, streaming a Netflix documentary, both nibbling crackers and sipping tea, he couldn’t help but think that being sick wasn’t that bad after all. As long as it meant spending the day with John like this, he would even condone the vomiting.

Sherlock shot John a quick glance, glad to see that their extensive nap had returned the colour to his cheeks, and smiled slightly as John met his gaze. They would take care of each other now. They were not alone anymore.

#fanfic #sherlock #johnlock #bbc sherlock #after series 4 #could be canon #ao3 #john watson #sherlock holmes #baker street boys #fluff #light angst

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its-lily-white · 6 years ago

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Happiness.

It has been written in the newspapers. People have been talking about it.

But only John Watson knows the real answer to the question. What is true

happiness for Sherlock Holmes?

One day Watson decided to pay a visit to his friend and his new neighbour

Molly Hooper who had been living on Baker Street for about a month.

As always, the door was opened by Mrs. Hudson or Mrs. ‘I Am Not Your

Housekeeper’ as John sometimes called her to himself. She greeted him

warmly and said that Sherlock and Molly were upstairs. Watson slowly climbed

up and stopped in front of the familiar door. He listened for a moment.

“Hey, miss! Please, don’t touch my test tubes anymore. I’ve been conducting

an experiment.” John heard his friend’s voice but there was something strange

about it. Sherlock wasn’t angry. Wait! Was he...smiling?

“Bugger off you, geek. I need to cook dinner and your glass is everywhere.”

Molly doesn’t sound annoyed. It seems like she’s having fun.

“John, stop eavesdropping and come in.” Called the calm voice of his friend.

Watson lowered his eyes guiltily and pushed the door. Sherlock was sitting in

his armchair in the Turkish fashion and reading something on the screen of his

laptop. He pointed at the other armchair without looking up.

“Um, hello.” John hesitated a moment and then sat down. Sherlock nodded.

He seemed to be too busy to talk. At that moment Molly entered the room with

a big cup of raspberry tea, the smell was very pleasant.

“Oh John, hi! So glad to see you.” The woman gave him a warm smile and

came up to Sherlock. Giving him the cup she leaned towards his face. For the

first time Holmes raised his head from the screen and imprinted a kiss on her

cheek. “John, would you like some tea?” Molly asked.

“Yes, please.” Watson was too shocked to ask anything but as soon as they

were left alone, his curiosity prevailed. “Sherlock, can you please explain to me

what’s going on?”

“John, you’ve seen everything and despite the fact that your deducting skills

are not brilliant I’m sure you’ve come to the right conclusion,” answered

Holmes.

Molly returned from the kitchen and put the mug and a plate of gingernuts

on the table. Sherlock’s hand reached out for a cookie but it immediately got

slapped. John choked on his tea.

“No treats for you,” said Hooper strictly. “You blew up human eyes in my

microwave.”

In reply Sherlock pulled her closer to himself looking at her face. “I’ll buy a new

one,” he whispered.

“And a multicooker.” She calmly added, unable to take her eyes off the man.

A pensive wrinkle appeared of Sherlock’s forehead.

“Deal.” Holmes kissed Molly on the corner of her lips.

“But be careful with this.” She pointed to the open tab with the latest news on

his laptop. Molly already knew that he has found a new case.

“I will,” he nodded promisingly and suddenly jumped up from his armchair.

“John, we need to go. The game is on!”

He chuckled; looking at his friend’s amazed face. Watson got to his feet and

went to the door.

“Thanks for the tea, Molly. I hope to see you soon.”

“Goodbye, John.” She hugged him for a moment, leaving Sherlock with

enough time to sneak three cookies from the plate, and then closed the door

behind them.

As he was putting his coat on, Sherlock couldn’t stop smiling.

They left Baker Street and suddenly John realised that now he definitely knew

what (or rather who) could make his friend Sherlock Holmes truly happy.

#sherlolly #sherlock #fanfic

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songofmysnark · 6 years ago

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“Perfect,” by Ed Sheeran

The least perfect song in the world. This shit is fucking awful. It’s bad enough that I have found it necessary to present evidence that Ed Sheeran may have been put under the spell of a powerful sea witch.

Let’s dive right into this unholy mess of unexamined emotional hellscape. Buckle up, kids.

I found a love for me Darling just dive right in And follow my lead

Why are you diving, Ed? Stop mixing metaphors, are you ballroom dancing underwater? Are you waltzing through a swamp? Why are you wearing scuba gear to this tango meetup? ED WHAT IS GOING ON? I am worried.

But before we clarify what’s going on, who are you speaking to? “I found a love for me” is not something you say to your smoochiepie, but then you’re addressing “Darling” and instructing her to dive into your shitty mixed metaphors. Are you singing to us, the audience, or your love that you found? Are you telling a story or serenading your lady friend? Ed, this kind of shit is why you are so goddamn easy to mock.

Well I found a girl beautiful and sweet I never knew you were the someone waiting for me 'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love Not knowing what it was I will not give you up this time

I’m coming up to speed here, my befreckled carrot chunk. Let me translate: you had a crush on this chick, she didn’t like you much, and then you got rich and she was like “welp, gotta survive somehow” and is now swallowing her pride and marrying a guy with a giant jungle cat tattoo on his chest because it means she won’t have to work anymore? Cool, glad I’m reading between the lines. Gold digger, redheaded nugget, it’s a warm-toned match made in heaven.

But here is where Ed Sheeran starts to do the thing that sends me into a feminist rage spiral: nothing about this woman is at all about her as an individual, but it is definitely about him as an individual. It’s one of those “Nice Guy (TM)” things that I hate: the dude here gets to have autonomy and his own story is central to the narrative, while simultaneously, his comfort, pleasure, and gaze are prioritized.

He found a girl? No, he did not. She existed all along, he didn’t do a goddamn thing. People are not hidden fucking treasures, Ed.

She was the someone waiting for him? No, she was doing her thing, Ed. And then you came along (again). You really think she was waiting for you any more than you were waiting for her? I mean, you weren’t, you totally sing songs about boinking other ladies. You both just met at a convenient time and were like “I guess you’ll do.” Stop making this sound like she actually held out for you. She didn’t.

You were just kids when you fell in love? AS OPPOSED TO WHEN, ED? YOU WERE BORN IN 1991. YOU HAD TO GROW INTO THE HARRY POTTER BOOKS, PAL. And we know nothing about when this chick fell in love with you. Hindsight is 2020, my sweet little baby child crooner.

Let me put on my therapist hat, my little tattooed gnome. When/why did you “give it up?” I’m curious. Tell us more about that. No? Not wanting to talk about how you likely acted like a bit of an ass to this woman? Okay, let’s keep going.

Can we talk about this one thing, though? Your phrasing is odd. Like, your syntax is fucking horrid, but points to your own self-centered brand of narcissism that has become your trademark. You are the one dancing in the dark, and you have her between your arms while dancing. Not only is this just weird, because the subject/object relationship separates you both, but you’re not even saying that you’re dancing together. You’re dancing, and she’s an accessory placed between your arms. It also sort of sounds like you’re in the 8th grade and dancing like a mummy -- you know, the way kids sort of hold their arms out and sway during slow songs? If they didn’t have each other, they would look like mummies. Are you mummy-dancing with your love, Ed? Or are you just writing lyrics that center around you as the primary figure and place your partner as a peripheral accessory object that is described in terms of her physical relationship to your body parts? Isn’t the point of dancing like that about togetherness, like “we were dancing together” or even using a transitive verb to at least link the activity between you two. Nope, dancing in the dark, and she was an accessory. Like a flashlight or a bolo tie.

I know, I know. I’m so pedantic. And you’re singing about your experience, from your point of view. You’re right -- and I’m not saying you shouldn’t think or sing or say this crap. You can do all those things. And I can judge the living shit out of you for it, because you come off as a selfish, childish, manbaby.

Moving right along...

But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own And in your eyes you're holding mine

Ed, you’ve got to cool it with the weird possessiveness shit. But this has given me a great mental picture of her eyes growing tiny hands and ripping Ed’s eyes out of his head while they (the eyes growing the hands) scream “MIIIIINE.” Oh Ed, the beautiful images you paint with your lyrics. Never change.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight

See, this shit? This is gold. This is why I have a tumblr dedicated almost entirely to the shameful pile of lyrical poop that is Ed Sheeran’s discography. Let’s break down everything that’s wrong with this fucking terrible refrain that we will be subjected to repeatedly, over and over, on our traffic-laden commute thanks to Top 40 radio’s obsession with Ginny Weasley’s favorite saccharine leprechaun. #magicallypernicious #unluckycharms

She said she looked like shit because a. she thought so or b. she’s thirsty AF. And you’re like “you look perfect tonight.” I mean, that’s sweet, but also, WTF were you doing barefoot in grass with your favorite song playing? Were you camping? Was this a date? Did you tell her that this OBVIOUSLY PREVIOUSLY ORCHESTRATED EVENT was happening? Did you give her a chance to, like, make sure she put her anti-humidity spray in her hair before you took her out to some swampy field and put on whatever her favorite song is? What is her favorite song, Ed? Do you sing it? I didn’t think so. NEXT VERSE!

Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets To carry love, to carry children of our own

I swear to fuck, Sheeran. Stop.

Every goddamn time I hear this verse, I just cringe. My whole entire body just shrinks up into a massive, painful, muscle-spasming cringe. Part of it is that melodramatic way you sing it, really going to town on the microphone when you sing about “carrying children,” that makes me hope for the cleansing tide of early-onset alzheimers to wash away the memory of ever hearing this goddamn line being belted through the speakers of my Toyota.

And I get it, you were like “hey I’m a lyrical genius, did you know that the word ‘carry’ can be used as the verb when describing someone bearing and/or transporting a physical or emotional load AND being pregnant with a baby? Cool, man, you figured that out and had her carry secrets AND your future spawn, because you are that ~*deep*~ to be like “I can use the same verb to describe keeping secrets and popping out some progeny!”

Do you only value her strength because it’s useful to you??? Way to be. This is why we still need feminism. You are framing this all about what this person can do for you. She can carry your secrets for you! She can have your baby for you! She can be strong for you! As previously established, you are disorganized and have a hard time delegating, but seriously, nobody needs to bear this fucking burden. You’re just like “Fuck her own stuff, fuck how strong she’s needed to be while I behaved badly toward her!” (Reminder: you apparently gave it up and left her for a bit; see verse 1 because you know I keep my receipts).

And really? To carry MORE than just your secrets? Like, that’s already a fucking load to bear and now you’re going to weigh your ladyfriend down like a pack mule with the rest of your fucking baggage? Way to be a gentleman. Grow a pair of gingernuts and figure your shit out, son.

By the way, what secrets are you keeping? Like, big secrets? Like “Dick Cheney would waterboard you to get at them” secrets? Or just, like, whatever you did at music camp when you were 11 and played a little too much truth or dare? You know what, forget I asked, the idea of combining enhanced interrogation with Ed Sheeran’s pre-pubescent truth-or-dare behavior is making me want to bleach my mind’s eye. Carry on, my wayward son.

What dreams of yours does she share, Ed? I know it’s a figure of speech, but last night I had a dream that in the middle of an international cuisine tasting conference, I was tasked with butchering an octopus in a college dorm room and ended up having sex with Ursula the Sea Witch, so I wouldn’t wish my dreams on anyone.

And sharing her home, Ed? Is this your nod to feminism, like oh, despite singing about her as an accessory, I’m going to acknowledge her earning potential and, in this version of the narrative, make sure you know it’s her home. The wage gap doesn’t exist, she’ll be the one to get us a home, I’m progressive! Or are you implying that she’ll be a homemaker? Either way, this is not a good look, Ed.

We are still kids, but we're so in love Fighting against all odds

How the fuck don’t you realize that I keep my goddamn receipts? You referenced how you were kids back then (see verse 1 above and my joke about being born in 1991, buddy) and now you’re like “WE’RE STILL CRAZY KIDS!” Sweetie, buddy, pal, my guy, the lack of continuity here is astounding, I mean how the fuck are you making so much goddamn money off of these truly awful songs?

I know we'll be alright this time Darling, just hold my hand Be my girl, I'll be your man

Nabokov already wrote this novel. You know, that whole “light of my life, fire of my loins, I’m dead when she leaves me” book? Yes? No? Okay, look it up later.

I see my future in your eyes.

Plot Twist: Ed Sheeran is in love with Lolita, but Lolita is an immortal and ageless sea witch. IS THIS WHY HE WAS DIVING RIGHT IN?

It doesn’t matter if her name takes a trip of three steps down the tongue if she steals your voice. How’s that for lyricism?

I have faith in what I see Now I know I have met an angel in person And she looks perfect I don't deserve this

Okay, I was wrong. This entire song is about his complicated relationship with a sea witch who has cast a spell. If you sing it in a minor key, this shit is really ominous. I have faith in the truth that I see now before me, she has revealed her true identity and it is terrible, please make it stop, I see the horrors for what they are now! It’s the angel of death, I have seen her in person and I don’t deserve this torture! She is perfect in her wrath and I must pray now and praise her while recanting my douchebaggery, I am now crying for help in this field as my love has revealed herself as a mirror into my own terror, and I am but a shapeless narrator without an audience, screaming into the void! Is this why she holds your eyes in hers? Is this why she shares your dreams, because she can see inside of your soul and reflect your own desires back at you until you’re blinded and crazed by your own self-centered bullshit? Is the sea witch using the Mirror of Erised as a shield to protect herself from your bullshit?

We’re worried, Ed.

You look perfect tonight

For fuck’s sake, Ed.

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stephdrawsjohnlock · 1 year ago

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SH – :Couch Cuddle: (FTH #2 for @discordantwords) Procreate on iPad Pro

I would love something domestic and Johnlock-y, though I don't have anything very specific in mind. Maybe Sherlock and John on the sofa in 221B watching a movie? Or looking after a dog or cat? Or cleaning up after one of Sherlock's messy experiments? Just something where the boys are enjoying each other's company together where they belong. I'm not overly picky, I just want to see them happy. :)

Here's pic two of three for my @fandomtrumpshate pieces for 2023, this one for the WONDERFUL @discordantwords, who gave me pretty much free reign on what I wanted to do, as long as it was Domestic Johnlock!

I absolutely wanted to do a piece with a puppy after I saw that suggested, here's our favourite (married!) duo with a new Redbeard puppy!

They're supposed to be lying down on one of those L-shaped couches but it looks weird to me, I dunno. DiscordantWords seemed really happy with this one, so I'm gonna just ignore all the things I think are wrong with it, LOL

One nitpick I will make is I think I should have made the couch a different colour because Redbeard is hard to see, LOL. Ah well. Hope y'all like it, anyway.

And thank you DiscordantWords for this fun prompt! I'm so happy you liked this! <3<3

🖼 I’M ON INSTAGRAM at stephdrawsfanart 🎨 @stephratte is my Primary Fanart Blog! Art © to S.G.M. Ratté. Do not repost or sell.

(Tags below cut, dm to be added/removed)

@discordantwords

@queerbeess

@ayryn-art

@antisocial-otaku

@havetardiswilltimetravel

@yorkiepug

@tea-and-gingernuts

@quantum-sparrow

@chinike

@chained-to-the-mirror

@almosttomorocco

@loveismyrevolution

#fandom trumps hate #fandom trumps hate 2023 #fth 2023 #johnlock #johnlock fanart #sherlock #sherlock fanart #fanart #my art #sdjl johnlock #sdjl sherlock #sdjl myart

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simplyshelbs16xoxo · 7 years ago

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Delayed Love

Post-TFP. It's Sherlock's birthday, nearly a year since the phone call. Molly's finally ready to open her heart to him again, surprising Sherlock.

I wrote this originally for the Sherlock birthday celebration, but I actually hated this fic at the time for some reason. Now, I love it, and so, I decided to post it.

Freshly baked ginger nuts? Check. Birthday gift? Check. Fireplace lit? Check. Molly Hooper used her key to 221B to set up everything. It was Sherlock’s birthday and he had been away on a case for nearly a week. She hated that it took her this long to get to this point, but they had both needed time after the events that transpired at Sherrinford. Well, her more than him, surprisingly. She hated how it had hurt him that she wasn’t as enthusiastic about a relationship as he was. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be with him, but she was terrified. Molly never thought there was a chance, and once it was possible, she had no idea what to do with it…

The first few months after the phone call, Sherlock and Molly had both agreed to work on their friendship, rebuilding it from the ground up. They became closer than ever. They were best friends and completely inseparable. They both knew the truth of each other’s hearts, resulting in cheek kisses that lingered a bit longer than usual. Sherlock had decided to go back to rehab to clean himself up for good and he continued to communicate with Eurus through music. He spent time with his family, all of them slowly, but surely healing together properly.

Molly took some time for herself, spending time with Meena and doing new different things. She joined a book club, took a couple dance classes, and picked up extra shifts at Bart’s to save up for a shopping trip with Meena. She felt like adding some new things to her wardrobe as well as look for a couple of new jumpers. She could hardly look at her favourite striped one without feeling sick. Funny how that old striped jumper had good and bad memories attached to it, from her day of solving crimes with Sherlock to that damn heartbreaking phone call.

Despite their very separate lives, weekends were reserved for each other. Late nights filled with take away or the occasional home-cooked meal, along with murder documentaries, classic films and board games. They’d sleep in the same bed. They’d cuddle. But nothing more transpired. It was a comfortable routine. There was a moment one weekend when Sherlock came out of her bathroom, freshly showered and in his pajamas, when he caught her dancing to an old Sinatra song. He had surprised her by taking her hand in his and pulled her into his arms. They danced for a long while, taking comfort in each other’s arms.

When July rolled around, there was an awful heatwave. Molly had been wearing a pair of jean shorts and a bikini top with her hair up in a bun on top of her head. Sherlock had let himself in with the key she gave him.

“Molly, there’s something I need to say and—“ he stopped short, his brain feeling as if it had short-circuited. He was dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, an unusual choice for him, but the sight of Molly Hooper not covering her curves up for once sent him into buffering mode.

“Sherlock?” she asked in concern. Following his gaze, she noticed his eyes wander over her in entirety. Feeling self-conscious, she had attempted to cover up her chest with a dish towel.

“Don’t,” he spoke suddenly. “I apologize. What I meant was that you shouldn’t feel insecure.”

Before really thinking, she spoke out, “I’m not compensating for size then?” It came out harsher than she wanted it to. Bad memories tended to do that to you.

“Molly, surely by now you know I was being a jealous git. That’s not an excuse for my behaviour, merely in explanation. I never meant what I said that Christmas. You have lovely breasts,” he blushed at having said that out loud as he spoke quickly.

“You said there was something you needed to say?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “Molly, I—well, would you like to—“

“Solve crimes?”

“Have Dinner?” They spoke in unison, the roles reversed.

“As much as I would like to, I just don’t think I’m ready, Sherlock,” Molly told him softly. “I need more time.” She watched his face fall as she unintentionally broke his heart. “Please, understand that this doesn’t change the way I feel.”

“I understand,” he replied. He then laughed in disbelief. “Who would’ve guessed I’d be ready before you were?” A look of panic crossed his face. “I didn’t muck up our friendship, did I?”

“No,” she assured him. “Never. You’re my best friend, no matter what.” Despite it being sticky and hot, Molly wrapped her arms around him. “I promise I’ll be ready eventually. My heart is and always will be yours, Sherlock.”

Snapping out of her memories, Molly hoped he would be surprised for once. It took her almost a year to be ready for this...whatever it was they had. Her hair was up in a bouncy ponytail, as she had loose curls in her hair, and she wore a pair of jeans with one of her newer jumpers which was a cable knit in bubblegum pink. The key turned in the door, and she braced herself for the moment at hand.

“Molly?” his tone was gentle, curiosity shown plainly in his eyes.

“Happy Birthday, Sherlock,” she smiled shyly. He stepped closer to her, slowly, as if he was afraid of frightening her. Molly closed the gap between them, hugging him to her. Sherlock allowed his hands to touch her—one on the small of her back, and the other in her hair.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he finally spoke.

“I missed you too,” Molly replied. “I’m so sorry it took this long. I was scared and completely lost, and—”

“I understand,” he said softly. Acting on instinct, he pressed a kiss to her temple, unwilling to let go of her. It seemed that Molly was content with staying in his arms, for she showed no signs of wanting to end it. “You made gingernuts.” She could hear his smile in his voice.

“I also got you a gift,” Molly added, stepping out of his embrace to retrieve it. She felt so cold without him, already. “Please try not to deduce it and open the bloody thing.” She laughed nervously, as if she were having second thoughts.

“I promise,” he smiled. Sherlock carefully unwrapped it, revealing a lovely black moleskin journal. There was an engraving in gold on the cover.

For Sherlock.

I hope this will be a reminder that you are loved, and more importantly, worthy of that love.

Love, Molly xxx

“Open it,” she encouraged him, feeling braver. He did as he was told, his lips parting slightly in surprise. Every page was filled with photos and mementos from all the years they knew each other. There were even photos of them with John, Mary, Rosie, Mrs. Hudson and Greg. His family was featured in a couple as well. There were little notes, written in Molly’s hand, about what she loved about him. He found a photo from that awful Christmas party where he practically deduced her to tears. It was a picture of himself with Molly and John. The message she wrote beneath it had him finally forgiving himself for his cruel words.

Who you are is not what you’ve said or done. I realise now that it was jealousy that caused you to react the way you did. I forgive you, my love. It’s okay.

“Molly, this is…” he trailed off, unable to find the words. “Thank you.” The last page was empty, but was obviously laid out in pencil. “What photo goes here?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” she smirked.

Six months later, Sherlock was holding Molly close to him in bed. Their hands were laced together, two beautiful rings on Molly’s finger glittering in the moonlight, as well as his own ring. Though Molly was sound asleep, he was wide awake, wondering how he ended up here, with the love of his life. His eyes gazed upon the photo on his nightstand from their wedding last month. It was taken the moment they had kissed, sealing their marriage vows. Both of them were smiling, eyes crinkling on both of their faces.

This was real. He was Molly’s husband, and she was his wife. He moved his free hand to settle over her belly. She wasn’t showing yet, but in eight months, there would be another Holmes in the world…and he couldn’t be happier. There were no more regrets of having waited so long—Molly had convinced him to just let it go and start living in the present. And it wasn’t so hard to do just that when she took his hand in hers. Sherlock Holmes was truly happy for the first time in his adult life. Meeting Molly Hooper, now Holmes, was the best thing that ever happened to him, of that he was sure.

ao3

#Sherlolly #my fanfiction

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mama-orion · 7 years ago

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Now Complete!

Sacre Coeur

Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Rated M 92,930 words - complete Sherlock must help John unravel drugged dreams, blocked memories, and offers him an outpouring of truth to make him understand just how long he’s been fighting for his heart... even if he fears the truth will drive him away. We divert from the series after Sherlock is shot in s3. Mary is a strong villain. Euros is a passing whim in a drugged dream. Sherrinford is a charming rogue of a chemist brother from Sherlock’s past. Moriarty is more than just a man. Action, mystery, romance, takeaway. While the journey is tense, I write happy endings and lots of banter. Love ignites and the boys quickly come together to face their demons as one. We follow them into parenthood and leave them whole and healed.

Read Sacre Coeur on AO3

If you like what you read, please consider reblogging. I’d love for Sacre Coeur to reach more of this excellent fandom. (I’ve truly never had so much fun writing, and I’m not slowing down now!)

To my readers who endured this as a WIP for 8 months!! I am so grateful for your kind words along the way. To my tumblr pals, look!!! I made a thing!!! To a few of my fic heroes I’m audaciously tagging – even if you never read this, please know that your excellent long-form stories gave me the courage to take on this project. yeaaaaa johnlock!!!

Tags, sort of: Fixit-fic, Caretaker Sherlock, Bamf John who also cries, Memory loss, New history, Flashbacks, Angsty with islands of fluff, Happy ending, Evil Mary, TD12, Secret organizations, Mind Palace, Coming out, Hospital confession, Resolved romance, First kiss, First time, Developing relationship, Lots of healing crying, And cuddling, Protective Mycroft, Flashback teenager Sherlock, Brother Sherrinford, Chemist Sherlock, Implied character death, Resolved stag night flirting, Marriage proposal, Alternative wedding, Drunken shenanigans, Birth of daughter, Sussex cottage, bee keeping

@ineedhugz @sherlockisnolongeravailable @brilliantorinsane @pinkrose423 @shiplocks-of-love @pj-gingernuts @e--q @girlofgeekery @shirleycarlton @jazzthecat00 @may-shepard @septemberlight13 @tali-zora @librarylock @khorazir @alexxphoenix42 @chriscalledmesweetie @angel-without-wings-sew @bbcbluebell @coloringthegreyscale @thespiritualmultinerd @deducingbbcsherlock @inevitably-johnlocked @quirkycinnamon @desolationofsmaug @sherlockchallenge

#sacrecoeurfic #complete #johnlock #fixitfic #ahhhhhhhhh it's done #now i need to write another one!!!

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lovefromruthie · 5 years ago

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S’mores Brownies

Hi guys!

Eeks, how is it Boxing Day! I hope you have enjoyed all the Christmas build up and had a wonderful Christmas Day. It is always so busy but I love it all. Time with family, the cakes and food; of course the church carol service which is great for pointing me back to who it is all about!

I had wanted to post this recipe a few days earlier but there wasn't time and I have done a little more tweaking since to this recipe...read on! Although Christmas Day is over, this recipe is a fab one to have to bring along as you visit friends and family between Christmas and the New Year. Actually, it's great for any time of the year because who could down....S'mores Brownies!!

The idea for these came around when I was thinking of what to bake for our church Carol service. I had thought about brownies but wanted them with a festive twist. The obvious ones that came to mind were chocolate orange or peppermint but these didn't really float my boat. They're traditional festive flavours but they can be quite polarising I think? My mind turned to the cake I'm planning for my mum's birthday cake in a few weeks time (it has a slightly similar theme to these-ish). And that's when it hit me...s'mores brownies!

What are they? It's a lightly spiced buttery biscuit base, a fudgey brownie topped with a soft, fluffy mallow which sort of tastes a bit like what you'd get inside of a Walnut Whip. Yum. It's like eating the clouds of your dreams :P But just to top this off, the fluffy meringue is then gently toasted with the blowtorch. You can also use a grill but watch super carefully! Freshly eating the mallow after it has just been toasted is the best.thing.ever! Need I say s'more?

Being a vegetarian and well, not living in America has not given me much opportunity to have a s'more so I did a little research on them. S'mores are chocolate and a marshmallow sandiches between a graham cracker then toasted. We can't buy these biscuits in ol' Yorkshire so there's a bit of extra thought that's gone into the base of these brownies. It's a mix of digestives, gingernut biscuits (just a ginger crunchy biscuit), a teaspoon of cinnamon. They are grinded - but not super fine - and then mixed into some melted butter and honey.

I'm excited to share this recipe because I am also giving you my brownie recipe! I tweaked this recipe slightly for these and I love the changes made so I think I will make this permanent. I should dedicate a post to brownies at some point (up the recipe by 25% to get the full brownie if doing just these). It is dense, rich, fudgey truffle like but no so soft that it begins to lose its shape. I needed it to be quite firm to support all the cloud like mallow topping! However, I didn't want to compromise in the texture too much and get a dry, cake like brownie. There's always two types of brownies - the fudgey ones or the cake ones. Seriously though, who would ever prefer the cake ones?!

This brings me on to the topping. I wouldn't do marshmallows because they contain gelatin. There are three types of meringue - French, Italian and Swiss. French is a no no for this since it isn't cooked, it's not stable enough and there would be a little leakage after a while. Italian would work for this but this but I prefer Swiss. It can take a little while to make but it is my favourite of the three. The egg whites and sugar are gently heated reaching to 71.2 degrees Celsius so that the meringue is safe to eat and it also means that there will be no grains of sugar. As I do with my Swiss Meringue Buttercream LINK, for my first attempt, I did a 1:2 ratio of egg whites to sugar. I prepped it all in the morning before serving at church in the evening. These were the first of my baked goodie to go. I think they just look so eye catching and appeal to adults and children.

I actually forgot to try a piece for myself as I was so busy with the rehearsal so Nick quickly grabbed a piece. It was good but I felt I could make the topping better. It was very thick and marshmallow like but was a kind of a plain sweetness. I decided to cut down the sugar a little bit - not 175% of the weight of egg whites. I also switched to golden caster sugar to give a slight buttery, caramel flavour. Another little tip is to use a medium pan, not a small pan but making sure there is a enough space between the bowl and water as you heat up the meringue. These changes helped produce a lighter, fluffier topping and gave a little more depth to its flavour. What I would love to try out next time is to toast the golden caster sugar beforehand to add to the toastiness and richer caramel flavour.

The photo below is using the grill and caster sugar...piled with lots of fluffy goodness!

Thought I’d try taking a different photo but I just felt like a poser and ended up laughing!

Need I say s'more?! ;) I really hope you make these and enjoy them with your friend and family. As always, if you want to post or share these, please refer to my blog.

Before I finish, I will quickly say this. Christmas for me is all about the birth of my Lord and Saviour, Jesus. Sometimes when Christmas Day is over all the build up can feel somewhat of a let down. But the hope and joy that Jesus brings us never fades!

Love from Ruthie x

Biscuit base:

175g digestives

175g gingernut biscuits

1 teaspoon of cinnamon

90g butter

3 tablespoons of clear honey

Brownies:

128g butter

300g dark quality chocolate (I use Green & Blacks 70%), chopped

3 large eggs

300g light brown sugar

75g plain flour

25g cocoa powder (I use Green & Blacks, NOT hot chocolate powder)

1 teaspoon vanilla

Swiss Meringue Mallow Topping

5 egg whites

Golden Caster sugar - 175% weight of the whites (i.e approx 185g egg whites, 324g sugar)

1 teaspoon of vanilla

Optional pinch of cream of tartar

Recipe:

1. First make the biscuit base. Pre-heat the oven to 160oC. Melt the butter and honey in a medium pan. Pulse the biscuits and cinnamon until coarse crumbs (you don't want it super fine). Mix the biscuits into the butter/honey and press into a lined 9 x 13 inch tray-bake tin. Use the bottom of a wide glass to help press in and level the biscuit base. Bake for 8 minutes.

2. Make the brownie. In a small pan, melt the butter. Once melted, remove from heat and add chocolate. Stir in until the chocolate is melted and you have a smooth, dark, glossy mix. Turn the oven up to 175oC.

3. Whisk the sugar and eggs on a high speed until pale, frothy and doubled in volume.

4. With the whisk attachment on medium, slowly pour in the cooled chocolate mix.

5. Sieve together the flour and cocoa powder and put into brownie. Fold, using a spatula. Do this gently but always check thoroughly as you do not want a pocket of flour!

6. Pour onto the biscuit/tray and gently level out. Bake for 22 minutes. It will be slightly firm on top and have a little crinkle layer.

7. Keep the brownie in the tin until cool and then allow to cool completely on a cooling tray.

8. Make the mallow topping: fill a medium pan with up to about an inch of water. Place sugar, egg whites and cream of tartar (optional) into a grease free large glass or metal bowl and place on top of pan. Gently heat until it reaches 71.2 degree Celsius whilst continuously gently whisking.

9. Pour into your stand mixer and whisk on a high speed. The bowl should cool, but doesn't need to be completely cool. Whisk until stiff peaks, look for the bird peak. Another clue is you will see how the meringue 'climbs up' the side of the bowl and this will then stop getting any higher. Quickly add in the vanilla.

10. Dollop the meringue onto the brownie, using a pallet knife drag the mix in directions so that there are little peaks. Then for the fun part - use the blowtorch!! You could also use the grill but watch it very carefully.

It is absolutely gorgeous when you have just used the blowtorch, or even from the grill and it is slightly warm. You can keep the brownies in an airtight container to eat during the rest of the day and will also keep until the following day. Enjoy!

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sherlockxreader · 7 years ago

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30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 1

Day 1: Holding Hands

Summary: You and Sherlock are forced to be friends after months of mutual hatred. Author: Maddy (@laterthantherabbit) Characters/Relationships: Sherlock x Reader, John x Reader (platonic), Mrs. Hudson Words: 2070 Warnings: None

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

“Sherlock?”

“...”

“Sherlock!”

“Hm?”

“Would you stop your moping and actually acknowledge John and I? You haven’t even moved since this morning!”

“...”

“Are you listening to me?”

“...” You heaved a loud sigh and glared at the man spread out on the sofa, as far from you as possible whilst still being in the room. You looked at John who just shrugged and continued reading the paper, bringing his tea up to his lips. You had finished yours and stood to wash out your cup which was when Sherlock spoke up, his irritation towards his afternoon having you in it clearly punctuated in his extremely childish tone.

“Don’t touch my experiments on your way out.” He turned towards the back of the sofa, waving his arm in a motion that said go away with as much annoyance as possible, and continued his sulk.

“Bite me Sherlock!” You rolled your eyes and continued to the kitchen.

Yours and Sherlock’s difficult and largely forced association with one another began on the day you moved into 221C. The move to the big city had not been as difficult as you anticipated considering your lack of possessions and the fact that John had selflessly helped you move box after box into the apartment. He introduced himself and Sherlock and began to talk to you about London and moving, forming a friendship swiftly. Sherlock however, hadn’t found you interesting at all and had deduced you immediately, hoping to send you off with his sociopathic tendencies. You weren’t fazed and instead, continued to talk to John, blatantly ignoring him for the rest of the move. Over the first few weeks of your living in the building, you became close friends with John, and had made friends with Mrs. Hudson, Molly and Greg. Even Mycroft fell for your charm and you two frequently went out for coffee together. Everyone loved you and you appeared to never leave 221B, always being present when anyone showed up and making everyone feel welcome. Sherlock hated it and took every opportunity to say so.

Not surprisingly, the glares and remarks exchanged between you and Sherlock were frequently noticed by Mrs. Hudson and John. They thought, however, that with the right push, you two would forget about your apparent loathing and hit it off, however every time the push was given, the stubbornness you both possessed prevented you two from cooperating. This had lead to today, where John and Mrs. Hudson’s final plan would begin.

John made an excuse to duck down to Mrs. Hudson’s flat as you returned from the kitchen, not that there was any need to as both you and Sherlock ignored him to carry on with your glaring and insulting one another. He knocked on the door to her flat just as she opened it. “Oh John! Is it time?”

“Yes. I think we’d better get it going before they rip each others throats out.”

“Oh John that was a bit morbid! Mind you they’ll probably want our throats by the time they figure it out.”

“Yes, probably. Where’s the biscuits?” John was handed a tea tray with the teapot and cups on it whilst Mrs. Hudson finished arranging the biscuits on the plate, placing it on the empty space on the tray before following John to the door.

“Will I come up with you?”

“I think that’d be a good idea. They’re more civil with you present.” John didn’t enjoy this plan but it was the final push he was willing to give you two. “Are you sure they’ll eat these?”

“Of course dear! They’re their favourites. It’s a shame they don’t realise their mutual love for gingernuts.”

“Yeah, they’ll get together over biscuits.” John snickered at the idea of you two forgetting your hatred over a packet of gingernuts before groaning as it evolved into an image of you two fighting to the death over them. “God I hope this works. You have the handcuffs?”

“Yes John. Up you go, I’ll need a soother for my head if they keep yelling.” Mrs. Hudson was right. As John ascended the stairs with her trailing behind, he realised that your bickering had become a yelling match. As he nudged open the door he saw the both of you standing at opposite ends of the room, throwing insults left and right. He changed his voice into the commanding tone of Captain John Watson so to grab your attentions quickly.

“Okay that’s enough!” Two heads spun towards him simultaneously. He would’ve laughed at the similarity of you two if it wouldn’t set you off again. “Stop with your arguing and have some tea with me and Mrs. Hudson.” At the mention of Mrs. Hudson’s name and her appearance behind John, you both became equally ashamed and muttered sorry’s as you sat back in the seats you had claimed before. Really, how could you two not notice your likeness was beyond John. He sighed and sat the tea tray on the coffee table, sitting in his chair whilst Mrs. Hudson sat near Sherlock.

“Are those gingernuts?” You asked as you poured the tea in three of the four cups, causing Sherlock to mutter to himself and glare at you once again as you smirked.

“Yes I picked them up earlier in the week.” Mrs. Hudson picked up her tea and nodded her thanks to you as you gave John his, turning away for a slight moment. When you turned back for your tea, you see that Sherlock had broken a biscuit in half and placed it into your cup, it becoming soggier with each second.

“Oh yeah, real mature Sherlock.” You picked up the decaying biscuit halves and popped them into your mouth as Sherlock ate his third biscuit, obviously trying to eat them all before you. Irritation bubbled to the surface of your skin. You tried to remain calm in front of Mrs. Hudson and, in place of yelling, your whispered to Sherlock harshly. “Sherlock I swear if you...” Your head began to feel light and you set your tea down, “... keep eating them I’m gonna… Oh I don’t feel well.” Your eyes felt heavy as you heard Sherlock mutter about Mrs. Hudson and drugs or something. You couldn’t really tell as everything became blurry and sleep overcame your body.

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

You woke a few hours later, the moon casting light through the open window, bathing everything in pale light. You groaned as you moved to recognise your surroundings, or you would if you could move your head, which was being cradled by something. As your senses sharpened you noticed that you had been moved into a bed after passing out. You tried to move your head to see what was holding you down, which was when you registered the body next to you and not just any body, but Sherlock, and not just Sherlock but Sherlock holding you while he slept. “Gah!” You scrambled away, or you tried to as your left hand refused to move with your body as it was being held by something, that something being Sherlock’s right hand. You also saw that your wrists were handcuffed together so there was no way of escaping Sherlock. “Great. When I get out of this, I’m going to kill John.”

Sherlock, having eaten more biscuits than you, was still blissfully unconscious, though still tightly holding your hand. You tried to pry his fingers away from yours but there just was no letting go. You gave up and laid back down on the bed, seeing as there was no way you could move anywhere whilst tethered to dead weight. As you settled again, Sherlock mumbled something and rolled away from you, taking your hand and body along with him. Not expecting the sudden move, you yelped and scrambled over him to stop your arm from hyperextending, falling off the bed and causing Sherlock to wake up groggily. Somehow through all the movement and falling, Sherlock still grasped your hand as he became more aware.

“Mmm... Y/N?” Sherlock’s voice was thick with sedatives and sleep, and his hair was messy, one side sticking up and the other slide flat on his face. His eyes blinked slowly and his eyebrows were pulled together in confusion. “Wha… Oh.” His eyes widened in realisation of what had happened to the two of you.

“Yep. John and Mrs. Hudson drugged us, handcuffed us and put us somewhere. I don’t know where though.”

“My room.”

“Huh?”

“We’re in my room.”

“This is your room?”

“Yes! Oh god my head is killing me.” He went to cradle his throbbing head with his hands when he realised he was still holding yours. He dropped it, and continued to massage his temples. When your hand followed his, he registered the handcuffs attaching you two together and groaned. “I’m going to kill John.”

“Not if I do first. Can’t you pick these open?”

He scoffed. “Of course I can pick these open. Let me just…” He reached over your head to fumble through the drawer of the bedside table, his hand coming back up with a pick for the lock. He turned back to work on getting you two out but instead, he groaned and dropped the pick, falling back onto the pillows, his free hand coming up to cover his eyes. “What the hell did they use?” he mumbled to himself.

“Are you okay?” You reached your hand out to move his arm yet when you did, he screwed his eyes shut tight and groaned again.

“Yes, it’s just my head keeps pounding and I can’t focus on the lock. Give me a second.” It was uncomfortable on the floor and you couldn’t go around the bed, so you opted to just climb over Sherlock to other side of the bed. “Ow! Stop moving you're making everything worse! What the hell are you doing anyway?” Sherlock’s words were muffled as he had placed a pillow on his face to block out light and sound.

“I am getting more comfortable as you have a headache and can’t get us out of this until it stops, which could take ages.” He tried to move the pillow to glare at you but even the little amount of light coming from the window made him shut his eyes again and whine. You were a sympathetic person and even though this was Sherlock, you felt bad that he was in pain because of your arguing. You didn’t know what to do to comfort him so you grabbed his handcuffed hand with yours and stroked the back of it with your thumb.

“What are you doing?” You could hardly understand him and laughed lightly at the confusion in his tone.

“I can’t go and get ibuprofen or anything to speed up your recovery and I don’t know what else to do to comfort you so...” You continued to stroke his hand in silence when he stilled for a while, not even moving with his breath. You stopped stroking his hand and went to shake him to make sure he was alive when he spoke again, quiet and the most sincere you had ever heard him.

“I’m sorry.” You sighed and rested your head against the headboard, resuming your movements with your thumb.

“Yeah, me too.” You thought about your relationship with Sherlock over the months and started to giggle a little bit, your giggling soon becoming louder until it was a full bodied laugh. “God! I can’t believe it took drugged biscuits to get us to get along!” You saw Sherlock lift the pillow off his face at your realisation, a genuine smile upon his face before it contorted in pain again. As your laughter died down, Sherlock managed to removed the handcuffs through his diminishing headache, staring at your hands the whole time. “Hey.” He pulled his eyes away from your hands and to your eyes where a mischievous glint was shining in the moonlight. “You want to go get revenge on John?” Your grin grew along with Sherlock’s as he pulled you off the bed and lead you to John’s room upstairs, your hands holding one another the whole time you handcuffed John to his bed and whilst you slept on the couch, waiting for morning to arrive.

#30 day challenge #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #mrs. hudson #maddy #maddy writes #laterthantherabbit

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