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sports-and-fandoms · 6 years ago

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*SPOILERS* Star Trek Discovery Season 2, episode 1: Brother*SPOILERS*

Hello guys! Yes, I am indeed still alive. I apologize for not having posted in a long, long time. How long has it been? A year? It’s been rough and just an all round bitch. But, we’re not going to dwell on that any more. As it is customary for my blog and since Star Trek: Disco has just premiered season 2, I am going to be posting reviews again. As I have mentioned up above, SPOILERS UP AHEAD!

Star Trek Discovery, oh, how I have missed you! My God, tonight’s episode was so good! Ahhhhhhhhh

-I SQUEALED WHEN THE ENTERPRISE CAME ON SCREEN!!!!!! NOT EVEN ASHAMED TO ADMIT IT.

-TILLY MY SWEET, PRECIOUS BABY! I LOVE HER! Some of her best moments, tonight. “Math Rules!” “Comms!” Tilly rambling for 5 minutes straight while the bridge crew watches on, highly amused! Her whole “it’s funny saying pinky to a Captain” moment! Oh, the pinky scene was hilarious! “I don’t want you to go.” :(

-Paul Stamets. God. Damn. You. I love him. I do. But seeing him suffer KILLS. ME. So, here’s what I’m gonna say. GIVE. PAUL. HIS. HUGH BACK.

GIVE US OUR SPACE HUSBANDS BACK!

Also, how dare you, Star Trek disco writers? Who the hell gave you the right to play with my emotions like that? Stamets was listening to opera and he gets it now! I stg I almost cried.

After seeing him so sad at the start of the episode, seeing him light up when Tilly brought in a FREAKING ASTEROID on board the Discovery was EVERYTHING. He needs to be happy!

-Saru is so amazing. I love how sassy he is! Oh my Lord! Ya know the scene when he felt someone’s death coming? And the guy on the bridge just stared at him and he was like “Are you really surprised?” LMAO

-Pike. I love Christopher Pike. I always have. He is so much like Jim Kirk in this, it’s unbelievable. So reckless and would do anything for his crew. He went on the rescue mission. He also tried to find a solution that would defy all odds. We all know where Jim Kirk learned that from. Lol I love how he almost gave poor Tilly a heart attack. I love everything about Chris Pike!

-Still in love with Burnham. SLAY, QUEEN! SLAY!! I especially loved the shade she threw at the Enterprise crew (Pike, blue shirt dude that got himself killed coz he didn’t listen and underestimated Michael, Red shirt girl that listened and survived). So when they beam on the Disco, they’re all talking and stuff then Pike mentions the new uniforms and Michael is like “I saw. Colourful.” LOVE. IT.

-One moment to appreciate the elevator scene. How simple yet so entertaining.I loved it. The banter. I loved how everyone just greeted the guy and Michael was like “hey dude! sup?” and making conversation. Then he sneezed on blue shirt dude and Pike blessed him. I love how simple yet so Star Trek and funny this scene was.

-Another thing to appreciate. The importance of loyalty towards Starfleet and all its officers. I love Michael’s “leave no man behind” thinking. Again, very Star Trek. Family bond was, again, very important in this episode. It’s really the “throw all caution to wind and complete a certain mission and maybe do some science on the way” kinda episode. Which is so Star Trek. This is spot on, in my opinion.

-Sarek and Michael’s relationship. She called him father. Also, Sarek actually admitted to something sentimental. He, for just a second, was vulnerable and open. He admitted to finding Amanda reading Alice in Wonderland soothing. I love it!

-Wilson Cruz (the actor that plays Hugh Culber) tweeted that this episode was all about love. I agree with him. It was. And for the love of all that is holy, he better be back! I can’t see Paul being sad anymore. My heart can’t take it!

-I am really loving where this season is seeming to head. I like the story concept and I feel like it has a lot of potential. Also, I really love the involvement of Spock in this. I feel like this season could potentially be very, very good! I also loved the small tidbits about Michael and Spock’s relationship.

My predictions and what I am looking forward to:

-Lorca is definitely coming back. It’s all in the fortune, baby. He’s coming back, and he’s gonna either kick some ass or get his ass kicked. Again. Those that have read my previous reviews know that I love Gabriel Lorca. I love Jason Isaacs. A lot. So you can imagine just how excited I am.

-They’re gonna bring back Hugh. Ok, so this is less of a prediction more of a “do it or else” kinda thing. Seriously, disco writers. BRING HIM BACK.

-We all saw the Ash/Michael scene. So that’s something to look forward to.

-WHAT WAS THAT THING THAT ATTACKED TILLY??? SHE BETTER BE OKAY.

-Philippa Georgiou is gonna be back! And she joined section 31, so that’s really interesting.

-I wanna see more of Sarek and Michael.

-More of Saru being a Captain.

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Alright, that’s all for tonight, folks! I’ll be back next week lol Until then, if any of you wants to talk more about this episode, message me! I would love to talk about theories and discuss certain scenes in tonight’s episode! Looking forward to talking to you guys!

#star trek #Star Trek Discovery #star trek disco spoilers #star trek discovery spoilers #Star Trek Disco #michael burnham #Christopher pike #captain pike #saru #sylvia tilly #paul stamets #Hugh Culber

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asianhappinesss · 3 years ago

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Parallel Life (2010)

Summary

Kim Seok Hyeon becomes Korea’s youngest appointed criminal court judge at the age of 36. He's famous for his rational rulings. Seok Hyeon also has a beautiful wife and a daughter. His near perfect life crumbles when his wife is brutally murdered. A man named Jang Su Yeong, who had a vendetta against Seok Hyeon for a prior ruling, quickly becomes the primary suspect and the case is close. A reporter then approaches the grieving Seok Hyeon and points out the amazing similarities between Seok Hyeon's life and a judge from 30 years ago named Han Sang Jun. The judge from 30 years ago was also appointed the youngest criminal court judge, graduated as valedictorian from the same high school, and also lost his wife and daughter in a brutal murder. These events seemed to have occurred in exact 30-year intervals. Now if this "Parallel Life Theory" holds to form, Jang Su Yeong will escape from prison in 16 days and murder his daughter...

Review

Have you ever heard about the line “The person makes his own destiny/fate”? Well, this film will make you question that saying from the bottom of your heart amongst other things. After watching many Korean suspense thrillers, I became surer that there’s no other genre that can top thrillers in Korean cinema because they’re simply too good at making those and Parallel Life belongs to the good ones. This film starts off a bit slow and may not captivate your interest ever since the beginning, but all of those introductions were necessary for the film’s latter events and developments. Parallel Life analyses the “Parallel theory” where two people have the exact same life with an amount of years apart. Of course that may seem unbelievable at the beginning and can always be considered as a coincidence but as the film develops, many facts come to light and surprise us. In order to conclude whether a thriller suspense film was good or not, you need to ask yourself this simple question: “Was I surprised and entertained”? If the answer is “no” then the film was a failure for its genre but if it was a “yes” then you know that this film can be considered a good one out of its genre. Parallel Life fits in the second category. This film’s suspense and mystery were tight and intriguing, they always manage to attract you in and make you suspect every single character that appears on screen. What makes this film even more captivating is the final outcome, you can hardly predict who was behind it all even if the “why” was a little obvious to me but it’s intriguing how can the “Parallel theory” interfere that deeply in one’s life. The acting was pretty well done. I am ashamed to admit that this is my first time seeing Ji Jin Hee in anything. But this first successful encounter will allow me to pick many of his other productions because he was truly amazing in this as well as many other actors. The characters were nicely written, it was interesting to find out the similarities between Kim Seok Hyun and Han Sang Jun as well as their destinies and the way things will turn out to be. The characterization is written in a way that will oblige you to relate to them. In a line, I would mention that the cinematography was good enough and the music was fitting for the thriller/suspense mood. Watch if: -You’re looking for a good suspense/thriller. -You like the Korean way of making thrillers. -You like surprising plots. Do not watch if: -You dislike the genres. -You’re looking for a bloody/violent thriller. Parallel Life is a well-crafted suspense thriller which appeals to the fans of intriguing plots.

#kmovie

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hufflepuffmarlenemckinnon · 6 years ago

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Of the Essence 7/22

A Marauder’s Era Fanfic

Pairings: Blackinnon, Jily

Rating: Teen-Mature for language and sexual themes. I will warn for the two later chapters that get a little steamy.

Word Count: 22k+

Summary: Sirius and James semi-inadvertently invent a new potion. It’s consequences to Sirius’s personal life are anything but straightforward.

A/N: I am a complete failboat at using Tumblr as a platform for my fic, but I am giving it a go and moving my current WIP over from here.

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6

Chapter 7; Stay

Sirius didn’t really consider what he’d done stealing. It was more like he borrowed James’s invisibility cloak. Just without asking and without the intention of telling him he’d had it to begin with if it could be helped.

The lengths he was going to in order to catch a moment alone with Marlene were getting embarrassing. He’d waited around for over an hour in total, first to get into the Hufflepuff common room and then the 6th year girls dormitory.

Once he was there, it was easy enough to find Marlene’s bed and cast a silencing charm around the curtain. Then it was just more waiting.

“What the…” Marlene’s eyes got huge when she opened the curtain to her own bed and found it occupied by none other than a smirking Sirius Black.

He gestured for her to be quiet so as not to give him away. Despite her better instincts Marlene did just that. She slipped behind the curtain and spoke in a whisper.

“How did you even get in here, Black?”

“I have my ways.”

“Shhhh. My dorm mates will be able to hear you.”

“Silencing charm.” He gestured, tracing a ring around the bed, where he’d cast the spell.

“You’re…”

“Intolerable?”

“Well I’m not sure that’s what I was going to say but yes.”

“You’d like me to leave then?”

She really really didn’t. He was reclinded on her bed looking casual and effortlessly gorgeous. How was this fair at all?

“No! Don’t. Um… I mean… you’ll risk getting caught and it’s very busy out there right now. I don’t want to get in trouble because of your… creative sneaking.”

“Right McKinnon. I’m so sure you’re just trying to avoid detention.”

He pulled her down by both hands, and she let out an involuntary squeal.

His kisses were languorous and teasing. Somehow she felt like the wanting party, despite all evidence to the contrary.

Her body was nearly overtaken by the sense of burning need when she managed to pull herself away.

She took a few breaths and tried to ground herself. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. She’d been downright mean to him in effort to make him go away and he still pursued her. Why her? Why when almost anyone else would have been less contrary about it?

She looked at him from a different angle and questioned her whole opinion of him. He really hadn’t been anything but continually nice, though relentlessly flirtatious, with her. He always went away when she firmly rejected his advances. The problem is she wanted less and less to keep rejecting, even though it would be really embarrassing to admit defeat at this point. It was hard for her to concede that her first impression was off but he was starting to grow on her. In no small part because he was a phenomenal snogger. But also because he really seemed intent on earning her affection, her despite her own stubborn flaws.

“So are you going to tell me to leave now?”

“I think not. You’d better stay. I’d just um… rather not get too carried away.”

“Why not? I’d like to carry you away.”

He sat up and laved hot open mouth kisses down her neck, inciting a moan when he added his teeth to the mix.

She needed to act normal. None of this was normal but she needed to act it, or her roommates would think she was acting strangely and check up on her, or worse, alert her brother and sister. She couldn’t let that happen.

“I’m gonna get ready for bed. I don’t want to act like I’m up to anything. Hufflepuffs talk and if anyone knows then my brother Lucan knows.”

“You’re ashamed of me, McKinnon?”

“Yes.”

She quickly slipped out from behind the curtain and made sure it was closed all the way. On the way to the bathroom to brush her teeth she pondered the fact that her tone came out teasing rather than genuinely discouraging. Was she… flirting back?

She felt acutely aware of her pajamas and how… not particularly sexy… they were. She’d put no thought into this fact before that moment. But now… he was going to see her in her beat up old shorts and sleeveless undershirt? Well… at least if her unattractive nightwear scared him off she wouldn’t have to worry about rejecting him again.

When she eeked back in behind the curtain, making sure not to open it at all in the process, she felt sure this was a dream. It had to be a dream.

Sirius Black was shirtless with his lower body covered by the the blankets on her bed.

What. The. Fuck.

“What?” He asked, clearly attempting to feign innocence.

“You were wearing clothes when I left. I’m quite sure I would have remembered if you weren’t.”

“Well you said you were getting ready for sleep. I figured if you don’t want me to sneak out...since you want to avoid getting found out and all...I should sleep here. You can’t expect a bloke to sleep fully dressed.”

“Uuuuuugh…. What was the word again? Intolerable. You. are. intolerable…”

“You seem to be tolerating me quite well, nonetheless. Or would you like me to go?”

He was clearly playing a game with her with his annoying beautiful eyes and stupid strong arms bare and looking like a work of art. He wasn’t just playing. He was winning. She was going to have to admit defeat for this round, she conceded.

For the first time in this whole… thing, she was the one who initiated the kiss.

“Stay.” Was all she managed to say.

Sirius was in sodding heaven. She kissed him. She didn’t just avoid saying no, she finally admitted out loud that she wanted him to stay. Maybe she was starting to soften towards him. It seemed possible that using the tried and true weapons at his disposal in a more forward manner was going to do the trick. Her hands slid up his chest and around his shoulders as her mouth opened wider to let out a sigh.

He paused for a moment just to look at her.

“Merlin you are beautiful…”

He was contemplating how much of a lovesick idiot he sounded like when her posture changed. She averted her eyes and squirmed uncomfortably. She looked nervous all of the sudden.

“Uhh… yeah… we should um… not…” she muttered in a very small voice.

“Are you alright?” He puzzled.

Marlene felt so out of her depth. She was fairly certain that Sirius knew, or at least suspected, that she was inexperienced. She didn’t want to have to say it. It was awkward and made it seem like it was some sort of issue. She didn’t fee attached to her virginity in any way. She just hadn’t had instance to partake of the relevant activity before.

But now the instance was obviously presenting itself and she felt conflicted. On one hand she was completely overflowing with desire for more of him. More of his mouth on her neck… more of his hands on her thighs. More… ugh.

On the other hand she felt like a dirty little slag for wanting to give it away to a bloke she didn’t even want to admit that she liked. That wasn’t the romantic ideal, now was it?

“Are you… a virgin or something?”

Predictable, that he sensed her anxiety despite the eagerness behind her kisses. Annoying. But he was like that. He seemed to see straight through her.

“Yeah…” she mumbled under her breath, not looking him in the eye.

He failed to contain a little laugh as he pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her mess of golden curls. He realized he was acting strangely but it all felt so right that he couldn’t stop it. Just like he couldn’t stop smiling.

She didn’t want to shag him but she wanted him to stay. He knew that in theory he should have been a bit disappointed, but the idea was so exciting. She might not admit any affection for him yet, but wanting him to stay without the usual excuse was quite telling. He was so happy he could burst.

“You’re laughing at me. Arsehole.”

“Only because you’re adorable. I might be an arsehole but I’m not in the business of pressuring sweet little Hufflepuffs to hand over their virginity. You don’t have to be nervous about that.”

“It’s not a big deal is it? I just haven’t done it before and thought this probably wasn’t the ideal scenario for the inaugural event…”

“I promise it’s fine.… but your wording is not. ‘Inaugural Event’? Really?”

“Better than ‘grand opening’ by a measure I’d say.”

The pair of them were laughing and Sirius was getting very concerned for his cardiac health. He’d never felt his heart in his throat and his stomach in the course of a single minute before. But that was Marlene’s effect on him, he supposed.

“So you want to go to sleep now, McKinnon?”

“Not sure I’ll be able to sleep.”

“Why’s that? I don’t snore or anything. You can even hog the blankets. It’s your bed and all.”

He smirked in that annoyingly sexy way that he did… Marlene had no defenses for this. She turned away, facing the curtain.

“Well Black, let's think. There’s this naked wizard in my bed…”

“I am not naked, thank you very much. I have on pants.”

“Close enough.”

“Not for my liking.”

She buried her face in her pillow, poorly concealing her embarrassment.

He took the opportunity to wrap an arm around her waist and lay his hand against her stomach. He kissed her bare shoulder and the back of her neck.

This was all very odd. This wasn't what Marlene had expected he’d be like. What on earth has she done to inspire such tenderness? She wasn’t even nice to him. She’d have to figure out how to proceed with her life after this, but for right then, she laced her fingers with his. Eventually she managed to relax and drift off to sleep.

#Sirius Black #blackinnon #fanfic #sirius black x marlene mckinnon #marauders era #marauders fic #harry potter fanfiction #marlene mckinnon

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nico-nightingale · 4 years ago

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Summary: Following an accident that involved her beloved younger sister, the crown princess of Arendelle grew to believe she was born cursed. At the summer after her eleventh birthday, however, she receives the visit of a man in strange robes, who invites her to study at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This story follows Elsa's life in Hogwarts as she discovers that magic is no curse and starts learning how to love herself.

Rating: T (ages 13 and up)

Also found on: FF.net, AO3, Wattpad

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Frozen belongs to Disney. The cover photo belongs to Nico Benedickt and the font belongs to Naharstd.

Chapter VII: Shot in the Dark

first chapter • previous chapter // next chapter

On the night following the feast of Hallowe'en, Elsa was so exhausted that she had fallen asleep at the moment her body hit her bed's mattress. It was a good thing. That way, she hadn't had time to mull over what had happened on Charms or the fact that the Hufflepuff first-years would have another class with Professor Flitwick on the next day, which would have caused a sleepless night.

On the contrary. The princess had a dreamless full-night sleep and woke up feeling reinvigorated for the first time in an entire week. Sleeping wearing her hair on a tight bun had also proved to make her morning routine easier since it stopped it from entangling too much throughout the night. The experience made Elsa consider, for a moment, doing it every night even though it wasn't healthy for her hair. No, taking care of herself — especially of what concerned her physical appearance — was one of the obligations of a princess.

On every other day, the princess would have left the Common Room with the supplies for her morning classes and her books, but Hufflepuff first-years had no classes on Thursday mornings since they usually had Astronomy on Wednesday nights. Famished after a dinner composed only of chocolate frogs, Elsa headed to the kitchens as soon as she had finished showering and dressing for the day, without waiting for her much slower friends.

Her belly was full and her body well-rested when the princess' mind finally started working on the pressing matter of what had happened on the previous day during Charms' class. Cursing herself for not having thought about taking her writing supplies, the girl waited for a time when her friends would most likely be in the Great Hall having breakfast to return to the Common Room in order to gather them, giving herself enough space to start worrying. In truth, she didn't want to make excuses for her visit to Flitwick first thing in the morning.

No matter the angle she looked at it, however, Elsa couldn't understand the reason why her magic had behaved the way it had. Unless she had misunderstood the concept of “intent”, it had had nothing to do with what had occurred then. Not only it hadn't worked when she focused on its right purpose; it had worked once the girl was putting an effort on not releasing her magic. If anything, the way she had cast the spell served as a proof against Miranda Goshawk's thesis.

Realizing, from the way the light was entering the kitchen through the window, that it was time for her to go, Elsa thanked the elves for the excellent meal and headed towards her dorm in order to pick her writing supplies, her textbook for Flitwick's class, and the book about “intent”. Then, the girl followed to the Charms' classroom in an attempt to find the teacher before the students arrived for his first period.

Much to Elsa's relief, the tiny professor was sitting behind his desk, reading a book. He raised his head as soon as she crossed the door sill, “I was wondering if you would come to see me before class, Miss Kyrre.” Although somewhat embarrassed by the predictability of her acts, the princess couldn't help but relax under the man's bright and calm smile.

“Good morning, professor,” she answered, offering him a shy smile in return for his own.

“Likewise!” He offered with enthusiasm before nodding his head towards the books on the princess' hands, “I see you brought Miranda Goshawk's books with you. Why don't you sit down so we can discuss it?”

The smile died on Elsa's lips as she nodded back and took a seat by the desk right in front of Professor Flitwick's. She proceeded by sending an inquiring look toward the man, trying to figure out a way to voice the questions in her mind. Finally, the princess realized she wouldn't be able to summarize everything in one single question, “I— can not understand what happened in class yesterday.”

“I figured as much,” the professor acknowledged with kindness. “First things first, perhaps you might be interested in knowing that the official name used to address what you did yesterday is ‘non-verbal magic’. This style of spell-casting is formally covered from the sixth year, although more advanced students sometimes try it on their own before taking their O.W.L.s.”

Thinking about it for a few seconds, Elsa realized that, although it didn't guarantee the Charms' teacher would be able to help her, she was relieved that he knew of magic being performed wordlessly. “Do people often cast spells like that by accident?”

“Indeed they do,” Flitwick declared right away. “I dare to say, a child's first accidental spells are always non-verbal.”

“I— yes— of course,” surprise washed the princess as she realized how stupid she had been for having forgotten such basic information. The accidental magic on all the stories she had heard from her classmates was non-verbal. “So, do you think it was an accidental spell?”

“Well, that's for you to say, I'm afraid. Did it feel accidental to you?” The professor replied with an encouraging nod.

“I— I do not know. Mrs Goshawk's book— what she said about ‘intent’—” the girl shook her head, rethinking her words in an attempt to formulate a clearer answer to Flitwick's question. “During my first attempts, I tried to— to think on how much I wanted to make the spell work, but it helped not— sorry, I mean, it did not help. When you asked me— when the spell actually worked— I had— already— given up that approach.”

“And what have you tried then?” The man asked, curiosity clear in his voice. The princess could see in his eyes that he was coming up with some theories already.

Elsa struggled to respond to his question, however. Although the professor didn't even acknowledge the issues in her speech, the girl was ashamed about the sudden trouble she had had to formulate her previous answer. In the previous weeks, her English had improved greatly, but more pressing conversations still had the power to make the language slip through her mind.

“Miss Kyrre, there is no reason to be ashamed of. This is a conversation with your professor on a subject you are not expected to have mastered yet, not a diplomatic discussion with a politician or a reporter. It is fine to stumble on your words a little,” the teacher reprimanded her with kindness. “Now, if you may answer my question—?”

Despite the embarrassment caused by his reproach, Elsa took his encouragement to the heart and was much calmer when she replied with a nod, “well, as I recall, I just wished it to work so I would not have to repeat the exercise.” The girl's cheeks reddened further at the confession of her lazy, sloppy performance.

There was no sign of reproach on his voice when the man responded to Elsa, however, “the purpose of finishing an unpleasant activity as fast as possible.” Encouraged by Professor Flitwick's serenity, the princess locked up, noticing that he was smiling in amusement. “I dare to say that few intentions are as strong as this one.”

Elsa's eyes widened at the revelation that she didn't have to concentrate on the effect of the spell. If the intention of making the spell work was enough, it would make things much easier. “Is it— enough? To— to make it work?” The princess felt the need to ask since Professor Flitwick's answer had felt like something that was too good to be true.

“Sometimes, with more basic spells, yes,” although he still seemed to be somewhat amused, the teacher was taking his time considering what she was telling her. Albeit anxious, Elsa appreciated his interest on the matter. “As I am sure you know, magic is often unpredictable. Yours seems to be more—” the professor paused, his smile slowly dying as he entered in a state of deep thought, weighing his next words, “instinctive than the others'.”

“Why is that, though?” Elsa asked before she could refrain herself. Suddenly, the girl realized they were discussing a topic she had been determined not to approach with her teachers.

Flitwick didn't take notice of the girl's struggles, however. Instead, still in deep thought, he started pacing back and forth, “I cannot say for sure. Professor Dumbledore believes that your magic's explosive nature is caused by your attempts to suppress it. While not a common occurrence, such magical outbursts are not unheard of.”

If not trained to read slight changes in the expressions of experienced politicians, the princess knew she would have missed the worry and fear hidden behind Professor Flitwick's calm composure. The girl tried her best to soothe the wave of anxiety caused by his emotions by telling herself that Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have let her study at Hogwarts if she was dangerous to the other students. The attempt, however, failed.

“Miss Kyrre— Elsa, look at me.” The princess was surprised when she noticed she had averted her fuzzy gaze from the professor. Realizing the way her eyes were flooding with tears of pure dread, however, Elsa didn't do as the man had requested her, keeping her head down. “What is it that is troubling you?”

The girl swallowed her tears before opening her mouth to answer, but she wasn't surprised when her voice came out low and rough, “am I— am I dangerous?”

Professor Flitwick took a few seconds to answer her, but she felt no desire to look up and try reading his expression. What if she saw even more concern in his eyes? Would she be able to stand it? “Regardless of the reason your magic is so unpredictable, you represent no danger to your classmates, Elsa.”

The princess didn't need to look up to realize the man was hiding something from her. His answer had been straight-forward enough, but also too specific for a simple yes-or-no question. Her tutors at home would have advised her to drop the subject since she wasn't well-versed at leading people into revealing something they weren't willing to. Elsa had to know.

“Do I represent a danger to— someone else?” The girl was still trembling and incapable of raising her head to look straight into the professor's eyes. What would she do if he said she was actually dangerous? What could she do?

“There are certain concerning cases in which suppressing magic can lead to— unpleasant consequences to one own. I dare not to say more than that, though, Elsa,” he added quickly as the princess was opening her mouth to ask more questions, “we are monitoring your magic and there is no reason to be concerned for now.”

There is no reason to be concerned. Elsa had heard those words several times before from her parents, her nanny, some of her father's most trustworthy advisors. Nothing to worry about— the words had been traitorous in each of the moments they had used them to reassure her about her magic. Should she be concerned about her own safety, then?

“Professor Dumbledore's theory worries you, though. Doesn't it— Sir?” At the realization that the first part of her speech had come out as rather obstinate, the princess chose to add the last word to show that she held respect for her teacher.

Once again, Professor Flitwick surprised her by not reacting to neither her anger nor her attempt to remedy it. Instead, the man focused on her question, “no, Elsa. We are all alert to all the possibilities since we are to keep an eye on the way your magic is adapting to spell-practising and the overall life at Hogwarts. What worries me the most, if you must know, is the unconformity between your magic prowess, the knowledge you show in your theoretical works and what you show us in your practical lessons.”

The princess raised her head to look at Professor Flitwick. She had expected him to either deny being troubled altogether or admit he was worried about her powers. The confession about his concerns about her academic situation caught her off-guard. Even more so when the man kept on, “all the teachers agree you are one of the most brilliant students in this school— yet, you are failing Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. You've gone through pieces of theory that first years usually ignore, done— if the reports from Professor Dumbledore are correct— done magic beyond your years, and— still, only once you have cast a spell correctly in class.”

Elsa was surprised when, as he paused to look at her again and their eyes met, she realized that they were showing no sign of anger, only curiosity and concern. Although Flitwick was the Head of Ravenclaw, the princess had trouble understanding his level of disregard for manners and respect when he was pursuing knowledge. While the other teachers would have called her off for her previous reply, the man dismissed it.

After a moment of silence, Elsa realized that Professor Flitwick was waiting for her to say something. It took the princess a few more seconds, however, to understand what it was. “I can not see why the spells do not work, Professor. I had considered the possibility of my magic being simply— different from everybody else's. But— yesterday— I cast the wand-lighting spell. So, it must be at least somewhat alike—?”

As she vocalized her doubts, Elsa noticed that they were back to the subject of her spell-casting. Having practised her eloquence and conversational cunning from the moment she had started talking, the princess knew it wasn't quite easy to trick her into a topic. Yet, Professor Flitwick had done it effortlessly, showing a level of focus and oratory she hadn't thought she would see in a teacher.

“It is definitely something else.” The man paused and, rubbing his chin, looked up to the ceiling as if asking for answers from a divine force. A few seconds later, he turned toward her with a smile, “do you mind showing me your wand? I confess I have rarely seen one such as yours— and never before at Hogwarts.”

A flush spread through the princess' face. “I— do not have it with me. I am sorry,” she added quickly. Elsa's complete disregard for the object had shocked her classmates since most of the witches and wizards considered their wands their most precious possession.

Flitwick wasn't surprised by her confession, however. “That is fine. Why don't you arrive about half an hour before class this afternoon so I can take a look, huh? It might provide us with clues for the reason behind your magic's instability,” he requested with amusement clear in his voice and eyes.

Elsa only nodded in response, trying to control her own embarrassment as she heard steps indicating that the students coming for his first class had arrived. Giggling, the professor kept going, “if you have nowhere else to be, would you like to stay for my next class? Coincidently, I will be teaching the freezing spell to my third year Gryffindor students, which I am sure interests you greatly.”

Elsa was indeed curious about the subject. It wasn't the first time she would see another person casting a freezing spell since Professor Dumbledore had demonstrated it to the girl and her parents back at the Arendelle castle, but she hadn't seen the spell being taught before. It could end up being elucidating, indeed.

As the princess nodded in response, Flitwick waved his wand to materialize a desk on a corner at the back of the classroom so she could be out of the way but still watch it. “Do sit, then,” the professor pointed the head at the place he had just conjured.

It took no time before the classroom was filled, most of the students preferring arriving at the last minute before the beginning of the lecture. Elsa kept her head down, although she could feel the eyes of the Gryffindor third-years on her. Their curiosity was satisfied as soon as the class started, when the professor introduced the princess as a first-year Hufflepuff and explained her interest in the magic of the elements and her desire to see it being cast.

Albeit it wasn't as elucidating as she had first expected it to be, the lecture was rather pleasant as the students were encouraged by Elsa's presence to show maturity and magic skill. Neither of them was able to cast the spell right away, but the first one to manage it was a red-haired boy called William Weasley, whose younger brother Charles was a Gryffindor first-year who shared some classes with the princess.

After his first success, the boy headed to the back of the classroom and offered to demonstrate the spell to Elsa. He even lent her his textbook, a quill, and piece of parchment so she could take notes based on her observations. It was the first time since the princess had arrived at Hogwarts that an older boy had taken notice of her, the very first time an older teenager had been nice to her with ulterior motives. The realization made Elsa to feel even more self-conscious than usual.

Yet, Bill—that was how the boy had asked her to call him—was polite and patient to her. He managed to perform the magic several times in a roll, which he humbly admitted to being a consequence of his homework practice. By the end of the class, the boy was rewarded with ten points for his attention towards a younger student and ten more for his spell-casting.

Elsa, on the other hand, had gotten a new friend and mentor throughout the lecture. Professor Flitwick offered the princess an encouraging smile when Bill pulled her to the front of the classroom in order to introduce her to his friends Tyler Springs and John MacGowan. The three teenagers exited the classroom flooding the girl with questions about her interests and pointing out what they knew about each subject.

Once they realized Elsa liked working with numbers, however, their conversation was directed to an elective class they had started that year, Arithmancy. According to the boys, the discipline referred to the study of the magic of the numbers, which made a lot of sense to the princess considering the latest mathematical discoveries on Astronomy.

What followed was some further explanation on Arithmancy as well as a promise to let the princess into their study group. Although overwhelmed, there was a big part of her that was glad about the encounter and eager to start learning everything about what was promising to be the best subject offered by Hogwarts.

Once they reached the dungeons, where the Gryffindor third-years would have their Potions lesson with Slytherin, Bill promised to send their meeting time and place through his brother once they had it all settled.

Feeling warmth inside herself, Elsa followed to the library to get started with her readings on Arithmancy.

#frozen fic #harry potter fic #elsa of arendelle #filius flitwick #bill weasley #harry potter au #frozen au #crossover #my fanfics #the others

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simplysherlockfanfic · 7 years ago

Text

The study of a haunted mind

A Spin-off of Connection - inspired by a few requests for a one shot or spin off continuing the Connection Universe and the TAB period sparked by @jiuweihututku

(Connection)Reader x Sherlock

Word Count: 4327

The lofty round chamber was illuminated by well placed lamps around the table situated in the center to create a cavernous setting. The men seated around the rather ornate table unobservable in such dramatic lighting preferred the secluded atmosphere for the discussion of topics that would not pass through the heavy doors. The artificial cavern was perfect for the equally artificial men who occupied the chamber.

Mycroft Holmes brought the meeting to an end and I needed no instruction to stay seated and keep my eyes low. I preferred my place tucked in between the door and heavy drapery that blocked any natural light. Being the only female in the room was not lost on me nor the men who spanned a multitude of positions in various government entities. The group of seven men held different beliefs of where a woman of any standing had a right to be, never the less one whose native country was not the same as their own.

I had no illusions to the temperaments of the men in my company as some would refuse to acknowledge me as company. Mr. Holmes was the only reason I held such a station. He was a man who answered to none and none would speak against his appointments. Even after all my years in his employ, I did not know precisely his position, only that he was of such grave import none would oppose his view save for the very highest and I've only witnessed it once. I was sworn to secrecy and not due to the nature of the discussion but, I believe, because of who came out on top.

The men filed out of the room in silence. I closed my book and placed my items in the crook of my arm as I rose taking hold of my cane.

Mycroft strolled toward me, “what of your findings?”

“Two found your second point a hard pill to swallow.”

He nodded, “mark them in your notations.”

“As always.” I often wondered if he saw the same ticks I observed that betrayed the men who thought so highly of their ability to show the world only what they desired to let them see and he merely used me for confirmation of his own theories. I wouldn’t mind in the least because I often relied on him to confirm my own skills at times.

I wasn't ashamed to admit I had to battle back from a harsh mental climate after an unfortunate incident that forced me to hold a cane at all times outside of my own home. My body wasn't the only thing battered and bruised and I relied on my family and friends to fight back to where I am today.

Mycroft walked by my side to the door, he preferred the slow pace that my injury presented me but also felt it rude to walk ahead of someone he considered his equal. I did not share his opinion of myself for he had accomplished far greater things but I acquiesced to his compliment when he shared it.

“Have I presented my gratitude recently?”

I shook my head, “this position is gratitude enough.”

He smiled as he stopped at the door, “ah, yes when one can stomach the ignorant.”

“We learned that long ago.”

“The best of us had to.”

Mycroft Holmes, man of refined inclinations and unmatched mind, had in recent years softened around the edges in a different way. From the very day my son William came into this world, he began to decrease in size. He was still a tall, large man but different choices had made him, in the words of my good friend Dr. Watson, no longer a man challenging death.

I stepped into the hall and another tall figure moved toward us. Just over six feet, not as excessively lean these days yet still his presence filled the space. His sharp eyes met mine and his purposeful steps slowed to a stop in front of me. I stared up into warm, intelligent eyes that spoke more than I ever thought possible.

Mycroft closed the door, “why, Sherlock, how unexpected.” His smile revealed otherwise.

“Mycroft.” Sherlock inclined his head, “I had some business in the building and heard you were concluding a meeting.” His piercing gaze turned back to me and he tipped his hat belying nothing save for the glitter of his eyes, “Miss Doyle.”

“Holmes.” I nodded with a hint of a grin.

Mycroft folded his hands over his stomach, “yes, well. That will be all for today, y/n. I'd like the meeting’s pages on my desk by nine.”

“Yes, Mr. Holmes. Don’t forget Mr. Melas will be meeting you at the club at seven.”

He eyed me, no doubt perturbed by my persistent formal use of his name, but decided against commenting upon it. “Thank you.”

“May I accompany you out, Miss Doyle?” Sherlock proffered his arm and the elder Holmes’s eyeroll was hardly hidden.

“I’d be delighted.” I took his arm giving the elder Holmes a final nod before turning with Sherlock.

“Good-bye, Mycroft.” Sherlock tossed over his shoulder in a way that only those brothers could, with challenge and love.

“As to you.”

We walked in silence through the building exchanging minute touches around corners and in empty halls. His elbow cheating back to brush his fingers against my wrist, palm, and in between my fingers. Muscle mastery that could entice a rousing masterpiece on his violin and a soothing or inspiring composition in me. I could always tell how his day was going by the way his fingers alighted my skin. He was mixing his piece, half soothing and half enticing. Today was a good day but he wanted to ease the ache in my hip.

His fingers swept over the plain silver band on my ring finger just before he pulled his arm forward and we stepped out the front door where a cab awaited me. He opened the door, plucked up my cane, and held my hand to help me inside. I sat and he placed the cane neatly at my side. “Where may I ask should I send you?”

“I have a meeting with the Society before I venture home.”

He nodded and gave the address to the driver before closing the door. I leaned forward, “a good afternoon to you, sir.”

He smiled with just a hint of delight in his eyes, “a good afternoon indeed.” He stepped back and the cab bounded off.

I closed my eyes and let his composition accompany me through the muddy streets of London.

Baker Street was still bustling even though the air had turned brisk. I had long since grown accustomed to London’s gray sky but I had no doubt more clouds would roll in within hours. Sherlock would scoff at my prediction but the quirk at the corner of his mouth gave him away every time.

I strolled down the sidewalk with one gloved hand tucked in my pocket trying not to lean too heavily upon my cane. Despite the weather, the people hustling and strolling about were in good spirits. They may complain year round but they loved their city, gray skies and all. I smiled, tucked my head against the wind, and returned to mulling over our most recent research into the human mind.

My study pursuing a way to ease, if not erase, dark memories that haunt or, in other cases not so lucky as mine, debilitate those who survive such terrors had been slowly gaining traction. While my research into a mind that felt compelled to inflict such pain had been flourishing and my fellows were already contemplating offering their opinion on suitable titles. Due to the rise in sensationalist stories of Jack the Ripper, I was disinclined to give any more public notoriety to despicable behavior.

I turned my mind from the distant past and recalled the thoughts that had been trying to lure me from my analysis throughout the afternoon. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel the way his nimble fingers caressed my palm amidst the quiet halls. I will forever be amazed by his ability to take my breath with a single touch.

“Mama!” The shout drew me back to Baker Street. William’s dark curls bounced over his bright face as he rushed toward me filling me with a completely different warmth.

I knelt down and opened my arms just before he carefully latched onto me, “hello, my love.” I wrapped him in a tight embrace. “How was your day?” I glanced up and smiled at the little sandy haired girl rushing toward me.

“Auntie y/n!” Rosamund pressed into my side wrapping us in a hug all her own.

“Hello my little dove!” I chuckled and looked up at Mary walking over with a smile lighting her face. My heart jolted and I shut my eyes.

“They’re very excitable today,” Victoria’s voice was bright and when I again looked up, her red hair replaced the blonde I thought I saw. Her face, now whispering concern, was nothing like the ghost of the woman in my mind.

I smiled with a slight shake of my head, “the chill.” I stood as the children released me chattering over each other about their trip to the park. “What great timing. I was going to send a telegraph.”

We turned and guided the children back toward the flat. “Come along William, Rosamund.” I leaned into her side while the children skipped ahead of us. “So, you heard?”

With a curt nod, she glanced my way, “Molly sent a telegraph about an incident in Sussex.”

“Sussex? Mycroft spoke of a different matter.”

Victoria’s eyes lit in excitement, “how delightful.”

The door to two hundred and twenty one B opened and Mrs. Hudson appeared shaking her head but all signs of discontent were dispelled by the children who immediately swarmed her. Victoria and I stepped inside and removed our coats and gloves.

“You read the new story then?” Victoria said with chagrin.

“Who needs silly stories when I am in the presence of the lovely ladies and gentleman of the house?”

“My dear Martha, this will always be your house. You are not a servant.” She smiled. I had to admit I over indulged in our innocent teasing on most days.

Her gaze was pulled by the sprites at her legs vying for her attention and Victoria elbowed me. We parted as a black cloaked woman complete with black veil rushed down the stairs, in between us, and out the front door without a word. Victoria and I glanced at one another before making our way upstairs.

The patter of the children’s feet followed along with Mrs. Hudson who no doubt would herd them into the kitchen.

I stepped into the sitting room where Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson were seated in their chairs by the fireplace in which a small fire crackled. I leaned my cane against the wall by the door not usually needing it for short distances, due in no small part to Mycroft’s swift thinking and action after the incident more than three years ago.

Sherlock’s gaze trailed over me, his ever watchful eye not missing a thing. I saw on his alert face what answers he had gained in his quick yet efficient observation and knew some piece I would miss gave him some knowledge of half my thoughts today. I winked before turning to the other presence.

Lestrade gave a tip of his head in greeting before his gaze was drawn to William rushing over to Sherlock. “Papa!”

Sherlock lifted our son onto his lap and leaned in, “my dear boy, what adventures did you find?”

“I hear John’s sister is doing quite well in the Queen’s service,” Lestrade said.

I grew confused at his words for all present were in good standing of our situation. But then it alerted me to an outside source from which I was still unaware. “I do what I can.”

Victoria chortled, “yes, who dared to think…”

“Victoria that would be quite enough.” John’s curt remark bordered on offensive.

I turned toward him with a look of disapproval, “now, dear brother.”

“Husband.” Victoria’s admonishment was so that one had to know her thoroughly to hear the dangerous undertone.

Sherlock grinned, “I believe Watson was simply trying to steer back to the matter at hand with our guest.”

William had crossed his leg over the other just like his father trying his best to match the posture down to the crook of his arm holding an invisible pipe to his mouth. Sherlock pulled a small pipe from his pocket and held it out for him. He grabbed it, fumbling it slightly in his excitement and shoved the mouthpiece into his mouth and blew. A few bubbles shot out and William turned such a look of contempt on his father but the sheer delight visible in Sherlock counteracted even the most stubborn of our son’s attributes.

I chuckled softly at my boys as I stepped further into the sitting room and Lestrade moved aside. A man, quite unkempt with messy straw-like hair and dirty overcoat, was seated in a chair on the right side of the room placed directly in front of the couch. “My dear sir, how terribly unkind of me and in my own home. Have you not treated the man to a drink?” I saw the signs of anxiety on his taut face, in his stiff shoulders, and uneven breathing that Sherlock had no doubt already deduced.

Sherlock Holmes may not be an expert in Psychology but he trained himself to catch even the slightest twitch of the eye from a lying man. He knew enough about the emotive ticks to judge the state of the man in front of us.

“That would be grand…” His wild eyes darted from Sherlock and William to me, “did you say your home?”

I walked over and offered my hand, “why yes, y/n Doyle. Pleasure to meet you.”

His gaze flicked to Sherlock and then to John. If I hadn't known better I might think he was about to take flight. “I thought your sister’s name was Harriet?”

Well,” John shook his head, a delay as the struggle continued in his mind, the only thing that came to me was trust in the man before us, “Mrs. Doyle is… adopted… and well, she…”

“She is a woman out of her time.” Sherlock spoke matter of factly and caused a blush to stain my cheeks, his gaze on me with pride and so much more.

I watched John, his conclusion finally eased his features. I laid my hand on our guest's shoulder hoping to assuage some of his nerves. “A relationship like the one John and I share is much like family but without blood relation in this society is, shall we say, frowned upon. It is much easier to tell those less minded that we are in fact blood related. It avoids scandal.”

“Anymore scandal,” Sherlock quipped pointing the mouthpiece of his pipe at me.

“By Jove, Holmes! How anyone could see you choosing a bride of such ordinary tendencies is just beyond…” John chuckled with another shake of his head.

“Or choosing a bride at all from those stories in The Strand,” Lestrade said with a grin at John.

“You're married and a child? But she doesn't bear your name!” The man cried, leaning forward as his stress increased.

I patted his shoulder, “a matter of security I can assure you.” I walked over to the decanter and poured him a drink.

John laughed, “poppycock. You'd no less take that name than…”

Victoria glared at him, “husband.”

I walked over to our guest, “the Holmes name has a notoriety that I would prefer to avoid. Sherlock is a man that takes no offense to my position. He delights in it.” I handed him the glass but his gaze was riveted on John and his hand so shaky, the liquid sloshed about.

“But your stories, you say it’s cocaine or ambition.”

“I believe the line you're thinking is the man alternates between his drug of choice and ambition. She would be that drug,” Victoria quipped with an amused smile. “And sometimes ambition.”

“Is it still only a seven percent solution?” John tossed at Sherlock.

Sherlock grinned, they were enjoying this far too much for decency. “Ah, I do believe I’ve far exceeded that dosage for quite some time now. Some days, at least, but then I tend to be quite fanciful these days.” He met my gaze and I smiled before turning away.

“Gentlemen, I do believe we may only be furthering his distress. That cold drink would do your mind and a good amount of deep breathing would help clear some of that anxiety.” I squatted in front of him, “now, if you would permit it, I would like to help you with that anxiety.” He nodded, still watching me warily. “With me, deep breath in.”

Sherlock, John, and Lestrade continued discussing whatever this man had brought them as I directed him into a calmer state. After a few minutes, he opened his clear, soft gray eyes and gazed into mine.

“May I ask what your speciality is?” His voice was smoother and deeper without the stress tightening his vocal cords.

“Psychology. It's the study of the mind.”

His laugh was like a crack of a whip in the room and everyone turned toward him, “but that's simply a fake…”

I smiled as I stood, “I am a member of the Society of Psychical Research and I'll have you know this area of study is exploding especially in America. I just calmed you with techniques I have perfected through my own research, sir. Feel your heart and listen to your breathing, your brain is no longer running in circles. You are now comfortable for the first time since the incident. Are you not?”

His eyes widened and he looked at Sherlock, “is this some kind of sorcery?”

“My wife is of high intellect and sorcery is of no use in this household. You’ll find no parlor tricks here.”

“She is published, both medical journals and novel!” John said tightly, eying the man he had only moments ago allowed a clearance like no other outside our circle.

“Dr. Watson trusts you highly for certain things to be spoken so easily in your presence. I hope you measure up to the worth of that trust.”

He stared at me but the thunder coming from the stairs drew our attention to the door just before it flung open. A large man in an unleashed rage heaved at the doorway, his wild gaze jumping around the room and growing all the more incensed. “Which of you is Holmes?”

I walked toward him and held up my hands. “Good sir, won’t you take a breath and know that no harm will come to you here.”

His bloodshot eyes burned in my direction, “a woman who doesn't know her place!”

I was sure by now my husband would know more about this man than I ever cared to but I could only see the tension in every muscle that spoke of panic and wild rage, a dangerous animal. “And you will lower your voice in my home.” I inwardly flinched at such a careless mistake but dared not show the slightest bit of weakness.

A flash of confusion shadowed his rage but only for a moment before it flared back, “your home!” His gaze darted toward the fire place where John and Sherlock were still seated. “The busy body has a woman with no control!”

His huge hand reached out for me and I snatched his wrist from the air, twisted it swiftly down and around his back as I shoved the mountain of a man off balance and into the door frame. “And you would do well to keep your hands where they belong. Men who foolishly think they can overpower women simply because they are bigger only prove how very uneducated they are.” Malice seeped through my every word and my pulse was pounding in my ears. I had focus on my breathing simply to hold back from injuring him any further.

“The conversation is most entertaining but I believe my wife has just shown you to the door, sir.”

The controlled lilt that hinted of danger in Sherlock’s voice tempered my heated blood. I released the man and backed away. A slight fright at the amount of rage that still pulsed through me. My gaze darted around the room and I was thankful that William was no longer present.

“When I have my say…” He rubbed his wrist and turned but stepped backward into the doorway. He glanced at me with a vicious look before returning his gaze to Sherlock.

Sherlock stood from his chair, his face tight and his nostrils flared but it was Victoria who stepped toward the man, “I believe you have done enough for one day. What would Scotland Yard have to say?”

Lestrade turned toward the man and he huffed, muscles rippling in aggravation as he ignored Lestrade and stabbed a finger toward Sherlock, “do not meddle in the affairs of Dr. Grimesby Roylott!” Then he spun awkwardly and lumbered down the stairs.

I turned to Sherlock and raised my brow in question when John’s old friend seated behind me exclaimed, “good Lord! You…” I turned and met his astonished look with confusion, “you… madam are extraordinary.” There was a lingering fear in his stiffened muscles and I could only conclude that John’s trust wouldn’t be the only thing holding this man to our loyalty.

“A woman can surprise you if only you let them.” Sherlock gave a sharp tug on the bottom of his vest, “if you would excuse me for a moment. I need to speak with my wife.” Sherlock walked toward the kitchen and paused with his hand held out toward me.

Victoria slipped something into my hand as I passed her. I stepped into Sherlock’s side and he took hold of my arm, the soft caress of his fingers on my palm soothing as we walked into the kitchen then around the children and Mrs. Hudson.

I quickly read the telegraph Victoria had handed me as Sherlock guided me into the hall for a touch of privacy, but the words handwritten there didn't make sense, meet me at his boathole in cemetery. I.A.

I squeezed my eyes closed and shook my head at the sudden burst of pain. When I again looked at the paper, it was a simple telegram from Molly. He stopped us and turned to face me as I inquired, “do you know the meaning of the bull at our door?”

“His step daughter made her leave before your entrance.”

“The woman… dressed in black?” A tingle of fear itched the back of my neck. What I had just done could very well be reflected back on her.

He nodded, his fingers brushed over my cheek then he kissed me with a quiet reverence. “You taught him a lesson that I should...”

I pressed my finger to his lips, “it's not that bad. Just the weather. Promise me that woman won’t be alone with that man. If my actions...”

His hand brushed my hip where the ache always flared up in cold weather. “Watson and I must catch the next train to take his step daughter’s case. I believe he’s going to have her killed much like her sister.”

I nodded, “Victoria received a telegram asking for our assistance in a matter in Sussex.”

“Lamberley?”

“Yes.”

“This lady in need of assistance is Peruvian?” He asked with a smile.

I looked upon him in amusement and he kissed me again. “I received a letter of the same matter. I shall send word that an associate of highest caliber will be arriving.”

I turned toward the kitchen, “Mrs. Hudson, could I ask you to watch the children for us until tomorrow?”

“Of course! Oh, how lovely, are you finally going on holiday?”

“Oh no, we have two…” my gaze froze upon the scrap of paper tacked to the wall just behind Mrs. Hudson, “different cases.”

She shook her head with a chortle, “of course.”

The odd stick figures in different positions called to me, something whispering that I should know. “The dancing men,” the words spilled from me but still brought no understanding except for the flash of a woman’s face, dark hair, red lipstick, and clever eyes. You understand.

Sherlock caressed my neck, “still waiting on more data for that. One case at a time.”

I turned back to him, his lopsided grin and a pinch in his brow. “Right.”

“Associates.” His palm pressed against my cheek, “then I shall see you again tomorrow.”

I held his hand on my face with the most peculiar feeling of living this moment before yet the emotions were different, more afraid. “Does your case have an increased element of danger?”

“None higher than others.” He searched my face, my eyes.

I nodded, “until tomorrow then.” He lifted a brow, “just simple instinct, I suppose the bull may have increased my own anxiety for the girl. A cornered animal is a dangerous one.”

He pressed his lips to mine, a slow and sensual kiss that only heightened my sense of being here, saying such a stressed, intense goodbye before. “I will see you no later than tomorrow night. I guarantee this will be wrapped up by morning light.”

John’s story of the events of Reichenbach swarmed my mind and I held onto him tighter. I hugged him tucking my head into his chest, breathing him in. Losing this man was not a possibility.

He bent down just enough to press his lips to my ear, “I’m invincible, you know that.”

I squeezed tighter. “Tomorrow then.”

PART TWO

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