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1-800-marvelswhore · 2 years ago

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Nothing Even Matters (2)

genre>> eventual smut. angst. fluff. childhood best friends to lovers.

synopsis>> he was your best friend. nothing more. nothing less. you never thought he reciprocated your feelings... until he did, but you wanted him to achieve his dreams so you lie and deny any feelings for him. but at what cost?

warnings: a year has passed, brief time skips, reader struggles with alcohol, angst, yoongi is the best human, more hurt feelings , brokenhearted!taehyung, strong language, reader is broken but healing, reader has a heart to heart with her mom, good parenting, emotions!, flashbacks. mention of family death (father), jungkook, jimin, and hoseok all make cameos, brief fluff

word count>> 10.1k

note: Sorry this chapter took so damn long... writer's block is seriously no joke. But I made it longer and there's more in depth information about the reader. Thank you for your patience and Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy <3.

main masterlist series index

🎧: Drink Before the War by Sinéad O’Connor

and

🎧: Stranger by Katie Costello

A year has passed. 365 days. 8,760 hours. 525,600 minutes. That's how long it's been since you last saw Taehyung. That's how long it's been since you told him you hadn't any feelings for him knowing there was nothing more you wanted in life than to be with him and tell him you love him 1000 times.

You decided to get your life together rather than trashing your liver with more alcohol than you should be consuming. You attended Alcoholics Anonymous and you also had a sponsor. Ironically enough your sponsor wound up being no other than Min Yoongi. When you saw him at one of your AA meetings, the first thing you did was apologize and he let you know there was no hard feelings. Addiction is a tough battle, one that you were now prepared to fight because you made a promise and you intended to keep said promise.

You dealt with your alcoholism by deciding to throw yourself into work and while it wasn't the healthiest thing to do and it exhausted you, you figured this was the lesser evil. Not all of it was bad though because all your hard work enabled you to get a promotion one that you've wanted since before you had even landed the job at Kim Corp.

With him sponsoring you it was inevitable that you'd get close. You learned he was 4 years older than you and he didn't just bartend he'd actually own the same bar.

Sighing and beginning to get fed up with the amount of work you needed to complete, you texted Yoongi.

[You]: could use a break, up for coffee?

[Yoongi]: sure, buy me an americano with 2 shots of espresso and 1 cream :)

You snorted. While your addiction was alcohol, Yoongi's was definitely caffeine.

[You]: u should cut down on the caffeine yoongles. next think u know you're going to have a heart attack..

[Yoongi]: You would want that, wouldn't you?

[You]: pfft no, of course not.

[You]: anyways, I'm at the Cafe Jin.

[Yoongi]: No shit Sherlock, where else would you be?

[You]: I have half the mind to kill you right about now.

[Yoongi]: You love me too much, but I'm always there. Calm down, yeah?

As you walked into the cafe the smell of fresh coffee and muffins filled the air making you swoon. You always did enjoy the smell because it reminded you of your sleepovers with Taehyung... back in the good days at least. You ordered yourself a skinny vanilla latte and Yoongi's drink, paying for it before you sat at a table.

[Yoongi]: I'm down the block.

You didn't respond as you saw him strolling towards the cafe through the large glass windows. He was looking down at his phone with one hand in his pants pocket. To be frank, if you weren't madly in love with Taehyung you'd probably would have made a pass at Yoongi already, that man was attractive beyond words. All in all, your heart was spoken for.

"What're you so deep in thought for loser?" Yoongi smirked down at you making you scoff.

"You're the loser." You snorted gesturing for him to sit.

"So what's new?" He asked you. He was a relatively good sponsor and he was good at human interaction.

He dealt with alcoholism in his teenage years, but when he saw what it did to his mother he decided to stop drinking and fix his life up at the age of 18. Granted owning a bar was already the biggest form of self-control you've ever seen an alcoholic do. I mean if you surrounded yourself around liquor and other drunks your liver would have failed with haste.

"Nothing much," You shrugged. "I got a promotion offer, but that means I'll be in the field more and probably be away from home a lot. I don't know if I'm going to accept as of yet though." You fiddled with your fingers. A habit that started as you stopped drinking, you used to think it was a sign of withdrawal when in all reality it was just nerves.

"How could you not want to take that job? If I remember our conversations correctly, you've wanted that promotion since before you joined the company, no?" He asked rhetorically quirking an eyebrow before continuing. "Look kid. Take the job. You'll regret it if you don't." He said simply.

You knew he was right, I mean what did you have to lose? It was more money and an opportunity to travel, how could you even possibly think of passing such an offer up? The thing was though you were concerned about your mom, she was sick and you didn't want to risk anything happening in your absence.

It was just a risk you couldn't take.

"You're right, but what about my mom? Can't just leave her... she's not deathly sick, but she's sick enough for it to be concerning." You groaned.

"I bet you if you told your mom of this opportunity she'd tell you to take it in a heart beat. Stop making excuses, what's the real reason you don't want to take the job?" He quirked an eyebrow at you. In the year you've spent getting to know each other he's learned almost everything about you and vice versa.

It was a breath of fresh air to be able to share such personal matters with someone who wasn't Taehyung. You hadn't opened up to someone since him because you didn't trust easy, but with Yoongi it came naturally and though it surprised you, you welcomed the change with open arms.

"I guess you're right, but the truth of the matter is I'm way too paranoid to leave my mother. She's all I have which you know and I'm all she has too. My father lost his battle to lung cancer when I was three. I can't just leave her Yoongles." You sniffed fighting the tears that threatened to spill over.

Yoongi just smiled at you adoringly. He knew all the tribes and tribulations you faced in your life, but the fact that you had the heart to speak about them made him admire you. He wished you had someone that could be there for you when no one else was; an anchor if you will. He loved you as if you were his own blood.. which is why it was so easy for him to say these next words to you.

"How about... I take care of your mom whilst you're gone?" He saw your eyes widen before continuing, "I mean it's no big deal. You need and want this job and if this is what I have to do for you to take it then so be it. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you, just think of me as the big brother you never had." He smiled at the look on your face. Your eyes were welled up with tears and your lips were quivering.

"I-I don't know what to say. I truly don't." You said softly letting one stray tear glide down your cheek before wiping it away quickly. You smiled happily at him. "Thank you so fucking much. I literally owe you my life right now."

"You don't owe me anything. Just remain sober, take the job, and travel the world. That's how you can pay me back." He shrugged.

At that moment your drinks had finally came and you and Yoongi fell into casual conversation. From your sobriety to future plans at least right now you felt happy... and you didn't even need alcohol. You were grateful for your sobriety & you'd hoped you wouldn't fuck up.

"Okay, so we're going to pay your mom a visit and let her know the news of her new caregiver; this guy!" Yoongi wiggled his eyebrows as his thumbs pointed towards himself. The actions made you snort as per usual. You took a sip of your latte moaning in delight when Yoongi spoke again. "Oh and Y/n?" You hummed in response. "Stop calling me Yoongles."

You simply smirked. "Never."

2 hours later...

You'd arrived at your moms house with Yoongi and you couldn't hold your excitement, you missed her so very much and you were happy that you finally got the chance to see her after almost 4 months. You moved the hydrangea flower vase to the side in search of the spare key and unlocked the door.

"Mom?? I'm here and I have a guest!" You screamed just in case she was upstairs. Her hearing wasn't as well as it used to be.

Your mom was relatively young... having you at 19 and all, but she's had lupus from age 14 and since she thought she couldn't carry kids full-term her and your dad never saw a reason to use protection. When she missed her period twice she never thought anything of it because her cycle was quite abnormal, but when her stomach began growing that's when she went to the doctor. She never had morning sickness with you- which was a blessing for her. You were born a month earlier than expected so you stayed in the NICU until you were 8 months. 5 out of those 8 months were tough, but your mom and dad pulled through and showered you with love... no matter how scared they were.

"Aish.. stop screaming so much child. I'm only in the kitchen." She scolded. "Now who's this guest you've brought over? Is it Taehyung? I miss that boy." She was making her tea to get ready to take her medicine so she hadn't noticed the way you froze when you heard his name.

Yoongi rubbed a soothing hand over your back hoping it'd calm you down a bit; it did.

"No, his name's Yoongi. He's my sponsor and kind of like a brother to me." You explained. Your mom turned and looked at you then Yoongi.

"Well you're quite handsome." She swoons with a coy smirk. Leave it to your mother to make a move on a younger guy.

"Ah thank you Mrs. L/n. You're quite beautiful too if I do say so myself." He flirted back which made you scrunch your face up in displeasure.

"Anyways... we've come to talk to you about something important... not for sexual tension. I got offered a promotion at my job, but it requires me to travel a lot and I'll be in the field more." You got right to the point not wanting to drag this any longer then it needs to.

"Okay? You'd better be taking the job," She paused to take her pills. "I don't want any excuses." She waved her hands about gesturing you to follow her to the living room and sit. "You have my answer now what else are you here for child?"

"Well, Yoongi offered to look after you because soon as I accept the job offer more than likely I'll be on the first plane out of here. He'll just make sure all is well and really it's more for my benefit than yours so in a way it works out. Especially given the fact that you seemed to take some weird interest in him." You stated. She simply blinked at you before moving her gaze to Yoongi.

"I'm not a cripple. And I don't expect you to treat me as such. I'm a capable woman, but if this is what it'll take for my daughter to take this job then so be it." She spoke curtly to Yoongi, who nodded in response.

You sighed heavily. That was one problem you could check off. The other? What about Taehyung... wouldn't this put an indefinite halt in your plans to wait for him? Truthfully, you knew you'd never give up on him- never in a million years, but could he wait? What if he's married, or has a child, or-

"Oi, what're you pondering about?" Your mom waved a hand in your face.

"Taehyung." You spoke softly, but honestly. He's been all you've been thinking about since that last day you saw him. It was hard to ignore the thoughts, but the majority of the time you were to your elbows in work so it helped. But just like alcohol it was just a temporary fix.

"Aw. Look I've known you and Tae since you both were 9 and 10. If it's love? You'll find your way back to each other. The universe has it's way of helping those who need help the most. It's so incredibly hard to get over someone whom you've handed your heart over, and there's not a doubt in my mind that Taehyung has been thinking about you just as much as you're thinking about him. You're beautiful smart and funny. That's why he fell for you in the first place. True love conquers all my daughter. True love conquers all." She hugged you and rubbed at your hair as you cried softly. You weren't sure when exactly the tears fell, but they did. And there was no stopping it.

"Look Y/n your mother's right. True love really is such a powerful thing and though I haven't experienced such a concept myself I know that it can be a beautiful thing. Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get- only with what you are expecting to give and that's everything and more. Life isn't black and white; there's no such thing as you love someone or you don't. You never stop loving someone because genuine love never goes away." Yoongi shrugged as if he didn't just give you a sermon on love.

"Wow when did you become a love expert?" You teased wiping your tears, but still hugging your mom.

"Love, Actually. Tons of sappy romantic shit... I don't even know myself I was just spit balling there to be honest." He smirked lazily. "The point still stands, if he told you he loved you don't overthink things... you'll find your way back to each other and your love will blossom- yeah okay that's enough from me."

You simply smiled.

"For you to be "spit balling" you're quite the wise chap." Your mother praised approvingly making Yoongi fluster.

"Ah thank you, but I should be heading to work now. I'll leave my car so you can get home. The bar is 20 minutes away by train so and it was nice to meet you Ms. L/n see you soon." Before you could protest Yoongi dropped his keys in your lap and landed a kiss on your forehead. What a guy.

"What a guy." Your mom echoed your thoughts out loud making you laugh. She always did have a knack for doing such a thing.

"So want to watch the Marvel movies in timeline order?" You suggested beaming when you saw your mom's smile.

"I thought you'd never ask, go get some clothes. I never refurnished your room so all your stuff is still there. I'll get the popcorn and soda." She beamed happily making you coo. She really was the best mom ever.

You stalked upstairs to your room seeing that literally nothing changed in here. You went by your window seat and a cherished memory crept in the back of your mind, you were 14 and Taehyung was 15...

9 years ago...

You were sitting by your window seat reading, Jane Eyre. It was one of the most underrated books by the eldest of the Bronte sisters, but to you? It was one of the finest pieces of literature you've ever read. Of course, Wuthering Heights was indeed a popular read, but that's why you enjoyed the lesser significance of Jane Eyre- it made you feel different from the rest of the world and you loved that.

"Y/n!! Taehyung is here, I'm sending him upstairs okay?" Before you even thought of a response, Taehyung was right in front of your door making you flush.

"Well hello best friend, reading as always I see?" He teased you making you flip the bird. All it did was cause him to laugh and you couldn't stop yourself from adoring the way his cheeks puffed up. You loved his smile. You loved him. At least as much as a 14 year old could love.

"Yeah well at least I'm getting smarter while your brain cells rot away as you just play video games and watch vines all day." You scoffed. He gasped in mock offense.

"How rude! Your best friend title should be revoked!" He hmphed making you snort.

"You'd die before you replace me... we both know that." You joked. "Anyways what're you doing here? I wasn't aware of this impromptu visit." You spoke before marking your page and closing your book.

"Well that's exactly why it's called impromptu little girl. Use that big head of yours." You kicked him in the shin making him howl out in pain.

"That's what you get and stop letting your year over me gas your head. It's quite irritating." You sat with your legs folded in your seat staring out the window.

"When I get older I'm gonna work as a ghost painter. Nobody would know that any of the art I create is mine- except you of course because you're not nobody. My name would be V for Vincent Van Gogh," He smiled cheekily making you blush. "The anonymity would be the best part because while being a ghost painter, I'll also be a photographer, but with my real identity. I'm thinking I'll do candid shots of people admiring my work without them knowing that I know they don't know that it's me who's work they fell in love with." He spoke so passionately about it. He took a beat before continuing. "Hopefully my career as a photographer will take off because I want to move to Paris and see my paintings in the same museums or galleries as Picasso, Michelangelo, Da Vinci , and more!"

He had his whole future planned. All you could do was stare at him longingly, but that was just as far as you could go for you knew he'd never be yours. You fight the urge to kiss him and instead decide to ask him more questions about his plans for his life. And the best part? You were apart of every moment he spoke of. Making your chest get heavy with emotion.

That's Kim Taehyung for you. Your best friend.

*End of Flashback*

Your eyes filled with tears at the memory. You had been stalking the internet for Taehyung- well "V" and noticed that his paintings were a rave internationally. It was no wonder he'd get an invitation to Paris, all his works spoke to you as if telling a story in just watercolors or oils. You were especially impressed by the fact that he'd also become a huge deal in photography, but you had no doubt in your mind that he'd succeed in exactly what he wanted.

You shook your head, wiping your tears, instead deciding to start digging through your dresser for clothes. You were still relatively within the same weight range as your teenage self so you were able to fit the pajama set you picked out with no problem. Your hips grew a bit, but your pants still fit snugly. You proceeded down stairs and saw your mom had the popcorn and soda out just as she said she would.

You didn't know much about what the future would bring, but one thing you knew for sure was you were gonna miss your mom and you were going to miss her a lot.

2 days later...

You sighed heavily as you looked up at the huge building that is Kim Corps, to say you were nervous was definitely an understatement. You were worried that you'd fuck something-anything up and lose the job of your dreams, but you were hopeful. You hadn't lost all faith in yourself and you weren't going to start now.

"Okay let's do this." You muttered to yourself stepping into the building. You ears filled with the sound of people chattering and the smell of the cafeteria filled your nostrils making you sigh contently. As nervous as you were, you always did love the smell of coffee and bagels in the morning. It gave you a homey sense and you loved it. You made your way straight to the elevators pressing the 12th floor.

You were 20 minutes early, but you know what they say; the early bird gets the worm- or in your case the promotion. I mean there was no competition for your spot, but you'd rather not be late to such an important meeting. You were going to figure out where the first place on the field would be and you were nauseous just as much as you were excited. It was nerve wracking how much you'd wanted to go somewhere such as New Amsterdam, Rome, Paris... but you're not sure you want to go to Paris anymore.

It's not that you didn't want to it's more like you'd rather not bump into Taehyung in a foreign country because... well does there need to be a reason?

The elevator stopped at the 12th floor and you braced yourself mentally praying that you'd get somewhere that's beautiful, but not too distracting. But you know how these cliche's go... Of course you'd go somewhere that's beautiful, but next thing you know, you're hit by a bus. You laughed at the thought and you knew it wasn't funny, but if you can't joke about dying can you joke at all?

The sounds of your heels clicking against the tile floors was the only thing you heard as you made your way to the CEO's office. Your legs were shaking and your hands were jittery as you opened the door. You were immediately greeted by the sight of a conference table and 6 other bodies occupying the seats.

"Ah Y/n!" Your boss, Kim Namjoon, greeted. "Your quite early, but that's fine I do love a dedicated employee. Punctuality is a big thing in the business world. Aish I'm talking too much.. please take a seat." He gestured to the chair across from where he was seated.

"Good afternoon Y/n, I'm Park Jimin, I'll be helping you on the field wherever we go." He beamed at you. You almost cooed at the way his eyes crinkled, but you held back.

"Nice to meet you." You spoke quietly. You didn't want to come off too strong, but you didn't want to come off as a shy little girl either so you decided to just speak calm and collected.

"Right on with it then, Y/n your first assignment will be of 8 months in Paris. What you'll be doing is working on advertising with out partner; Dubois Inc. It's pertinent that you make a good impression. Given the fact that you are a foreigner, that doesn't speak French, however will prove to make the transition a little more complicated than it needs to be. But I have no doubt in my mind that you'll be able to adjust. The 2 men to your right will be your assistants and they will help you with whatever you need. Al good thus far?" He looked at you with a strong gaze that almost made you cower.

No it wasn't all good. You were going to Paris... that much was inevitable and you knew that and the reality of the situation you were in was sinking in slowly. You'd be better off not going to Paris, but you couldn't say anything to your boss... no that would make you seem ungrateful plus Paris really is one of the most beautiful cities so how bad could it be?

"Yes all good Mr. Kim, I'm very happy to be able to go to Paris and you won't regret hiring me sir." You nodded curtly.

"Oh I have no doubt in my mind about that. You're free to leave. Your plane ticket and hotel booking have been sent to your email and feel free to request anything in your favor. You're free to leave, Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok will all meet you in Paris." And with that you held in your squeal and left the room with haste.

Though you'd be in Paris, how could you possibly bump into Taehyung when it's such a grand city? There was no way. Literally the only way would be fate; and you haven't had much faith in fate so there's that. It was a placebo to you; the idea of fate. It gives hope, but when such a thing doesn’t happen it crushes a persons faith.

As you were walking your phone rang and it read ‘Yoongles’ on the screen which made you immediately pick up just in case it had anything to do with your mom. Jeez you weren’t even in Paris yet and you were worried. This oughta prove to be harder than initially thought.

“Hello?” He spoke first which surprised you because he never spoke first.

“Hey Yoongles, everything alright?” You inquired immediately wasting no time. He simply chuckled.

“Yes everything is fine Y/n, I was just calling because I know the interview was today and just wanted to see where they’d be sending you first.” The thoughtfulness made you smile. You knew he had a soft spot for you, but this was just something else.

“Ohhh, yeah they’re sending me to Paris. Irony truly is a cruel mistress don’t you think? Whatever I guess.” You pouted even though he couldn’t see you.

“Ah though Paris is a beautiful city all I care about is your sobriety and happiness. Do you think you can handle the possibility of seeing him? On the off chance it’s possible, I mean.” He questioned carefully.

“Honestly? I’m not even sure yet, but don’t worry about that… I’ll immediately contact you if I feel as though I might relapse.” You bit your lip. You’d hoped that you would contact him… You hoped that you wouldn’t go off the deep end. You prayed. You’ve come so far and you’d really rather not risk it all.

“Y/n? Are you completely sure you can trust yourself to contact me when the urge comes? I ask because it WILL come and it might throw your mind for a loop. I just want to consider all our options. If you do feel as though you wouldn’t be able to see him then I can talk to Namjoon. He’s an old friend of mine anyway.” Yoongi suggested. That was new information for you. You had no idea Yoongi knew your boss, but then again how could you? You never asked.

“N-no it’s fine I swear. There’s a shit ton of artwalks in Paris so on the off chance I run into him then… I’ll distract myself with some Picasso and Van Gogh. You know me Yoongles. I’ll be fine.” You reassured. Though you weren’t even sure yourself at this point. But you know what they say; fake it till you make it right?

“Alright, well I’m proud of you kid. Can’t believe you’re going to Paris without me.” You couldn’t see him, but you could hear the mock pout on his face which put a smile on yours.

“Don’t be sad Yoongles, when I make enough money then I’ll take you on a trip to Paris.” You teased. You were serious though with all his help through your sobriety he’d deserve a trip out the country. And you’d be more than happy to be the one in order to do so.

“Oh you’re gonna be a big baller huh? I love that for you loser.” He chuckled softly. There was a beat of silence before he continued, “All jokes aside though I am going to miss you. Not that much, but I’m going to miss you.” He sniffed. You knew Yoongi enough to know if he got emotional you meant a lot to him so hearing his sniffles? Definitely made your eyes water. “I love ya kiddo and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. Remember that.”

And remember that you will. How could you forget? You knew Yoongi would be calling you everyday checking up on you making sure you’re still sober and just because he missed you.

“I will and I love you too Yoongles.” You smiled sadly. You were gonna miss him and your banter. It won’t be the same over the phone, but you had to do what you had to do. This job opportunity was one in a million… you’d be insane to reject such a considerable offer. You knew that much. “I have to go because I have to pack, but tell my mom I love her and be sure to take care of yourself.” He hummed and you hung up.

A day later…

This was it. You’d be leaving for Paris in 18 hours and there was still so much that needed to be done. You still have yet to finish packing and you know you shouldn’t be procrastinating this much because you’re usually a prompt person, but something- somehow is holding you back from getting your shit together. You knew what that something was, but you chose to ignore it for the sake of your sobriety and general health. All in all you were still on the verge of an anxiety attack. As if pshycologically sensing your inner battle Yoongi called. He was always good at doing that. You picked up hastily and heard his voice.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He said as soon as you picked up. You sighed in relief at the sound of his voice; he always could calm you down from anxiety attacks.

“H-hey Yoongles.” You replied back shakily. Instantly he knew what was wrong.

“Woah, Y/n are you okay? Do you need me to come over? You sound like you’re hyperventilating and that usually results in anxiety attacks… so tell me right now if I need to come over.” He all but demanded in worry. You inhaled sharply trying to focus on breathing before responding.

“N-no I’m fine… just being on the phone with you is helping me calm down a ton so thank you. You always know when I need your help.” You attempted to joke, but Yoongi remained silent. “I’m serious I’m fine Yoongles.” That nickname always softened him up and you’d hoped it’d do so right now.

It did. Sort of.

“Fuck. I’m so worried about you all the time… I’m gonna be a nervous wreck when you go to Paris and I just-” He stopped talking suddenly and exhaled a large breath. “I’m just going to want to beat myself up if anything happens to you over there.”

“Hey man nothing’s gonna happen. Have some faith in me, yeah?” You teased. You knew his worry was coming from how much he’s seen you struggle this past year, but you didn’t want him to worry this much… you hate being a burden more than anything.

“I have faith in you. I don’t, however, have faith in the temptation of alcohol. You’ve done great this past year, but if you happen to bump into Tae-” You winced at the name so Yoongi corrected himself, “That guy… the temptation and urge to drown yourself in alcohol will become so hard to ignore and I won’t be there physically to help. You know?” He spoke softly not wanting to say anything that you’d take the wrong way. Little did he know… nothing he says does anything but help you.

“Yoongi you’ve done more than enough and let the fact that I just called you Yoongi instead of Yoongles sink in because you know how serious I am once I use your actual name rather than your nickname,” You paused. “Besides you can always come visit; so long as you bring my mom, of course because she’s always wanted to come to Paris too.”

He simply chuckled and there was another beat of silence. One thing that you loved about your relationship with Yoongi was everything was so easy; conversations, admissions, confessions, revelations… it never seemed like a chore with him. It’s blasphemous that you met him in a bar, but you’re grateful you were a regular and there isn’t anything you would change.

“Alright little sis I’m gonna let you get to packing because we both know that you’ve yet to finish and you can’t put this off anymore. You leave tomorrow. Well technically at the ass crack of dawn, but same difference anyhow. I love you and see you tomorrow.” His voice wavered knowing he was possibly on the verge of tears made you bite your lip to refrain from having an emotional breakdown.

“O-okay bye Yoongles.” You quickly hung up and folded into yourself on your bed like a kid. You’d hoped that Paris would be worth all this emotional strain. You really did. If not? You don’t know what you’d do.

You put your “Cure my Depression” playlist on shuffle and got to packing knowing there was no more procrastination that could be done. You needed this job and the benefits that came with it. You inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly. You got this, you told yourself.

17 Hours Later…

You were at Incheon International Airport outside of Gate 6 waiting for the announcer to announce flight 180. Ironic (bit of a Final Destination reference). You were almost ready to board your plane, but right now? You were in a bear hug with your mom and Yoongi. Tears were shed and sad smiles were shared. Some shit you’d see in a sappy RomCom if you do say so yourself. Just without the romance because you knew very well there was no type of romanticism in your life. At least not at the moment.

“Don’t forget to FaceTime us everyday even if just for 2 minutes. If you don’t I will hop on the next flight to Paris with no hesitation.” Your mom playfully scolded to which you just nodded. You’d definitely be calling them; so much so they may just get tired of you. In any case, they’d be getting calls. Whether they’re annoyed or not.

“Oh don’t worry you’re sure to get tired of me with how much I’m going to be calling. Yoongi just make sure you’re by your phone at ALL times. If I happen to bump into that man in any circumstances the first thing I’m doing is calling you. Mom. Please don’t worry yourself about me. I know I’m going rather far, but I’m a call away. Don’t stress too much. I love you both. I should probably get to my gate,” You squeezed them in one more bittersweet hug. “I’ll call when I land.” They nodded and you hauled yourself and your luggage towards your plane.

You internally prayed (to whatever God you may or may not believe in) that you’d have a safe unproblematic flight to Paris. You’d hoped that nothing would happen as you took off. And you really hoped the turbulence wouldn’t be too much to handle. You didn’t have a fear of planes because you knew what came with them and you always expected the expected the unexpected. However, you did have a fear of dying. As you walked to the gates you imagined the song “Worldwide” playing by Big Time Rush. It was one of your favorite childhood songs and you’d imagined yourself as Jo when she was leaving Kendall.

“Last call for flight 180 to Paris, France. Last call for Flight 180 to Paris, France.” The announcement spoke as you arrived in front of the door to your plane. You looked back once more and sighed heavily. “Bye Korea. You will be missed.” You whispered more to yourself than anything. Saying goodbye to your home was a bittersweet feeling. You don’t think you’d survive longer than these 8 months. You hoped all will go well and the time will pass by quickly.”

You handed your ticket to the stewardess outside of the landing gate and made your way inside the plane. Your seat and the seats next to you were empty whilst the rest of the plane was empty. You hadn’t expected that given the fact that you were flying economy, but you were grateful nonetheless.

“Can I help you with anything to eat, drink or read? This is quite the long flight and I will be available at any point in time you may need something.” A flight attendant of the name Sinead told you.

“No thank you.” You responded politely to which she nodded with a smile and walked to the next person. You figured if you slept at least through half of this ride the anxiety you felt creeping into your skin would pass by easier. So that’s what you did. You slept.

12 hours and 25 minutes later…

Much to your surprise you were sleep for the entirety of the flight. Only time you had woken up was to use the restroom, but immediately after you went back into your deep slumber. It felt good and from what you could tell there wasn’t much turbulence… well if there was you didn’t feel it and that pleased you greatly. On your way down from the escalator you saw Park Jimin standing at the bottom with your namecard. You were shocked at how quickly they got to Paris, but you assumed they had a private jet of some sort so you’re not too surprised.

“Hello Ms. L/n” He smiled at you. You thought he was charming and damn near cooed at the way his eyes turn into tiny crescent moons. But you held yourself back.

“Ah greetings Mr. Park fancy seeing you here.” You teased now reaching him. He smelled of wood and vanilla. The cliche man smell you reckon.

“Ah mademoiselle no need for formalities.” He winked, “We should get going we kind of have to get to HQ and I believe we are running late already. Shall we?” Jimin held his arm out to which you hastily grabbed. You almost retracted it, but his smile reassured you.

“Work on my first day in Paris… Such a shame.” You tsked playfully. It was already beyond easy to joke around and converse with Jimin and you were happy about that because you always did hate those typical boss-assistant relationships in which the foundation of their relationship is simply the boss having superiority over the assistant. Yeah, you didn’t believe in that. It was belittling and having been in that position before… you’d be damned if you treated someone as such.

“Ah, but once we settle in HQ and send to Mr. Kim that we’ve touched base then we can explore all of what Paris has to offer. Especially the Lourve because I know you want to go there. Who wouldn’t?” Jimin chuckled softly. He was walking briskly yet calm. His whole demeanor seemed to calm you down tenfold. “Ah right… Hoseok should already be at HQ since he landed before us so hopefully it isn’t too much to be done. I know you must have jet lag.”

You shrugged though he was completely right. “It’s no biggie. At the end of the day this is a promotion so I knew I would have more work then I did previously. I worked hard for this promotion and I’ll do whatever must be done in order to not disappoint Mr. Kim.” Jimin just smiled at you making you flush. You cleared your throat. “Should we?” You motioned to the car in front of you.

“After you.” He winked whilst opening the door to the Lincoln sedan. You would’ve whistled at the sight of it, but you figured it was just any other town car. Except it wasn’t it had tinted windows and from what you could tell… a fresh coat of matte black paint. The interior was leathered up and it seemed as if this car had just came from repo. Whatever the case may be… there was no denying that this car was a beaut. Jimin slid in next to you still smiling. You noticed that he smiles a lot more than the average person and you found that admirable… In a world such as this one, it’s hard to find happiness so you’re quite impressed that he’s able to smile.

“We’re going to HQ.” Jimin told the driver in English. The driver nodded and drove off with haste. Just when you thought you couldn’t get any more impressed by this guy he goes and gives you another reason.

“You’re impressive, Park Jimin. You’ll make for a good assistant I reckon. I hope there is never any tension between the two of us and I hope that you feel comfortable enough to be around me in order to open up to me whenever you see fit. I am your boss, but I never want to make you feel as though you are under me. We shall have boundaries of course, but other than that I’m an open book.” You spoke quick but Jimin was hanging on to every word you uttered.

“Okay Ms. L/n.” He snorted and you nudged him in response. “In any case I’ve no choice but to respect you more than I would those who’re on the same level of employment as me. So thank you for giving me freedom, but I shall not take advantage of it.” He looked at you studiously as if trying to read your expression before it came on your face.

“I’m glad we have reached an understanding.” You nodded sternly yet playfully. You were rather impressed with his work ethic and easy understanding of common principles. You knew you were his boss and that he should have more of a respect for you than the common person, but you didn’t like the feeling of superiority. He just nodded in response and the rest of the drive was silent. However, it was a comfortable silence not one of awkwardness.

“We’re here bosses.” The chauffeur, who’s name you learned is Haechul, stated. You nodded and stepped out the car. From what Jimin has told you you figured that your bags had already made it to the hotel you would be staying at while you were here. You’d wondered if you’d have your own room or if you had to share, but that was a bridge to walk when you got there. As for now… you’re fine with the mystery. (this isn’t that kind of trope so no it won’t be Taehyung)

“Thank you Haechul. You’re free to go on break. Don’t come back until we call you for assistance.” You commanded to which he nodded curtly. You really did despise the way most bosses treated their employees so you swore to yourself when you became successful and had employees of your own you’d never treat them the way you had to be treated before your success. While it may have shaped you to be the kind of employee you are now, you figure you could be way better had you been treated with more respect. Or maybe if your previous boss wasn’t such a womanizer… You hadn’t realized that as your thoughts took over Jimin had said something and you only caught the last bit.

“...Dinner?” You looked at Jimin and blinked. Was he asking you to dinner? That’d be quite inappropriate you reckon. Maybe ask him to repeat himself..?

“I’m truly sorry, but could you repeat that? I only caught on to the last part of the question.” You said kindly to which Jimin just laughed.

“Yes, I asked if after the Lourve you’d want to get dinner? Of course it’d be rather inappropriate of me to try and attend dinner with you which is why I was going to recommend a good diner that you can get takeout from.” He shrugged simply.

“Oh… well yes I guess that’d be good. I do feel as though before we go to the Lourve I’d like to visit an art walk- a street one that is.” You thought about the possibility of seeing one of Taehyung’s paintings there and you really would want to see one in person. You haven’t seen one of his artworks in person since forever and it’d make you happy.

“Luckily for you, there’s always one open about two blocks away from the museum therefore you can go before or after.” He smiled which made you nod with a small smile of your own.

“Thank you Jimin.” He gestured in front of him as if telling you to lead the way which you were baffled by seeing as though this was your first time at Paris’ headquarters. You shot him a look of concern to which he snickered.

“Just go straight to the lift and go to the top floor ma’am.” As you walked in the building you noticed the elegant interior… it gave off the perfect “French Renaissance” theme and you adored it wholeheartedly. There was a front desk; which you assumed was the receptionist. You read her name tag and learned her name was Avril, she smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes so you greeted her with a curt nod and kept walking through what seemed to be an endless corridor.

Without realizing you must’ve stumbled into the lift because the doors were closing and you were on your way to the top of the building. Perhaps you were so in awe you hadn’t minded your step… in any case this life was exceptionally extravagant. The music was the instrumental to “My Heart Will Go On” by Celine Dion. You let your thoughts take over and began feeling bad for Jack Dawson. Personally you thought he could have survived & that there was room for both him and Rose. That whole movie was rather depressing if you did say so yourself.

You adored it though. Such a tragic love story, but written so beautifully. The movie took such a impactful event in history and romanticized it the perfect amount so it doesn’t stray away from the fact that the sinking of the Titanic was indeed a rather melancholy occurrence. You were stripped from your thoughts when the elevator came to a sudden stop. You straightened your posture and walked through the doors ready to take on the day ahead of you.

“Ah, you must be L/n, F/n! I’m Jung Hoseok which I’m sure Mr. Kim told you, however if he didn’t than I must formally introduce myself.” He was smiling- beaming even and you enjoyed the positivity greatly and he put his hand out for you to shake which you did.

So with a smile of your own you responded, “Nice to meet you! I just want to thank you in advance for all of your assistance on this promotion.” You dropped his hand and he bowed.

“No need to thank me! Just doing my job. Now the office here is not so different from the one in Seoul… only difference is you’re working with more foreigners than anything. However, French people are evidently easy to work with and they cooperate because they like to get things done efficiently. Mr. Kim wants our first task to be trying to entrap new clientele.. I’m not entirely sure why, but half of me thinks he just wants us to scour Paris on our first day. Don’t tell him I said that,” He stopped briefly and tapped his chin as if in thought. “Ah and Jimin will take you to the rented house that you’ll be living in. Completely paid for by the company so no need to worry about funds unless for food.” You nodded. Though that was a lot of information to take in so quickly you respected his efficiency.

“Thank you Hoseok, you’ve truly been the most helpful thus far. Now Jimin tells me that there’s an artwalk close by the Lourve… do you know how far the museum is from here? Is it walking distance or might I have to rent a Vespa?” You inquired. You really were anxious, but you were more intrigued at the possibility of seeing one of Taehyung’s pictures and you know what they say; go big or go home. And you just left home so going big was the obvious choice here.

“Ah yes it truly is a sight at night. It’s a 15 minute walk for the “average” walker, but you don’t seem to be an average walker so roughly 10 minutes by foot. It really depends on the speed in which you walk.” He rambled on. You found it admirable more than anything else though.

“Thank you again Hoseok, I’ll see you tomorrow for the first official day of work… well in the office that is.” You smiled at him and he returned the smile with no hesitation. He bowed at you and walked off. The hard part wasn’t necessarily even going to the artwalk itself, the hard part would be not to breakdown in front of all his photographs and paintings because you know there is always a message behind what Taehyung does… you just weren’t emotionally ready to deal with it as of yet.

2 hours later…

You were getting ready for the artwalk when you got a notification to your phone; a text from Yoongi. You were expecting it sooner or later you just didn’t think it’d be this much later.

[Yoongles]: How’s the city of love going for ya?

[You]: there’s currently no loving over here, but for everyone else? I’m sure they’re doing superb :p

[Yoongles]: Ah, don’t be such a Debby Downer baby sis. You got this! So how was the first day? Hectic? Tiring? Boring? Dreadful?

[You]: None of the above actually. It was hardly a first day because well all I did was visit headquarters and met my two assistants, but other then that? It was a pretty calm and chill day.

[You]: Oh and I’m going to visit an artwalk later… for no particular reason at all of course, but you know me! I love me some art :)

[Yoongles]: Y/n… do you think me a fool? (don’t answer that it was rhetorical)

[Yoongles]: You think I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours? You hope to see a work of he who shall not be named.

[You]: I never implied that you didn’t know what was going through my head,,, as a matter of fact I was hoping you did!

[Yoongles]: There’s nothing I can say that’ll convince you NOT to go I’m assuming… just be careful and if by chance- or fate whatever you choose to call it.. You see him? Don’t resort to drinking make sure you call me immediately. Otherwise.. Have fun <3.

[You]: Yes Sir! <3

You turned your phone off and sighed anxiously. You want to believe you’ll be fine, but there is still a chance that you may have to see Taehyung. And while it hasn’t been too long of a time well it’s still been a long time. 365 days? Yeah a very long time in your book. You’d hope that the first time you saw him he wouldn’t be too angry with you, but knowing Taehyung you knew that was wishful thinking. He wasn’t one to forgive easily- especially when it came to his feelings about something. What would he do when he saw you? That same thought was constant in your head and it was one of your biggest worries. However, you hoped for the best. You flinched at the sound of your doorbell ringing knowing it was more than likely Jimin coming to pick you up.

“Coming! Give me a second just going to make sure that everything is off!” You took a quick skim of your apartment and took a deep breath for the nth time this night. To say you were nervous would be the understatement of the century, but you were hopeful. You believed in destiny and you hoped destiny wouldn’t let you down.

You opened the door and saw- not Jimin but Jungkook? He looked up from his phone and gave you a bright smile which you caught yourself almost cooing at.

“Jimin told me to extend his apology for not being able to make it tonight he was needed back in the office for preparation things. But I will happily escort you to the artwalk Ms. Y/n.” He bowed to which you immediately shook your head at.

“No need for the formalities Jungkook. Thank you for your consideration. Let’s go shall we?” To which he stepped to the side extending his arm and nodding the same way fancy waiters do when taking you to your booth. Jungkook closed the door behind you and so the adventure began.

“What are you most excited about seeing?” Jungkook inquired. You found it admirable that he would make small talk during this walk therefore the silence wouldn’t make everything so awkward. You knew you couldn’t really tell him that this was some sort of way to stalk your ex-bestfriend to see how his art has either changed or not changed from when you guys were teenagers, but you didn’t want to lie either.

“An old friend of mine? Well, his name has been big in the world of art lately so I wanted to see if there was a chance I’d see some of his works in local artwalks. He’s always been such a great artist even when we were teenagers so I’m sure he’s been recognized enough around the world.” Jungkook just nodded in response. “Anything you’re particularly interested in?” You countered.

“I like photography, but like vintage and candid. Photography has always been a hobby of mine, but I like the corporate world more which confuses a lot of people.” He shrugged.

“That’s very admirable. Maybe in the future I can see some of your pictures if I’m not imposing of course.” You smiled to which he returned. As you were roaming the streets of Paris you noticed why this was such a tourist spot. The nights were exceptionally beautiful and you enjoyed the finer things in life such as a beautiful night under the stars. The stars in Paris definitely shined brighter which you loved.

“Ah here we are it’s past that alley there.” He pointed in an alley where you heard a violin and other instruments. All of a sudden you were overcame with nerves… what if Taehyung was there? What would his reaction be to you admiring his art after you messed with his heart? Would he mind? Your mind was running every scenario possible (Pipe down Doctor Strange) and of course your own subconsciousness was against you and thought this whole interaction could go wrong rather than right. Why did you decide to give up the alcoholic life again?!

You inhaled and exhaled deeply before smiling up at Jungkook. “Let’s go shall we?” He nodded and led the way. As soon as you reached the alley you were overcome with the smell of fresh French pastry and music. It was honestly the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Your eyes lit up in admiration as soon as artwork came into your view. There were different types ranging from abstract to realism even cubism which you heard was hard to perfect. “Wow.” You sighed out loud.

“Yeah it’s all very beautiful a lot of these pieces took artists months if not years to finish.” Jungkook explained while admiring some photography.

“I’m going to explore more, if you need me just text me and we can regroup and vice versa.” He nodded and you walked off. Anxiety and excitement both filling you as you were ready to possibly see some of Taehyung’s work. As you were admiring you noticed a painting that looked familiar and sure enough… V was signed at the bottom right of the portrait. I mean of course it looked familiar… It was you. Tears welled up in your eyes. How did he manage to make you look better with nothing but paint and a canvas? You really loved this man. While you were awestruck you hadn’t noticed the artist himself a mere 2 feet away.. Simply admiring you as you admired his favorite painting.

Taehyung’s POV:

All feeling of resentment left Taehyung as he saw you. You looked amazing under the moonlight and lanterns and his heart began racing as if he was a teenager loving you from a distance all over again. This whole year he worked on nothing else but this portrait and seeing your reaction made all that time worth it. In his mind he knew that you would be reunited, but he sure didn’t think it’d be this soon. But is it really that soon if he counted the days he was left without seeing your smile? He wasn’t sure if he should talk to you or not because he didn’t want to possibly say the wrong thing. While he spent this time missing you he also had a lot of pent up anger and resentment towards you. It was a rational reaction he thought.. At least when you weren’t in front of him, but now he’s not so sure. He was about to walk away and leave you to it, but you looked up and he got lost in your eyes. Curse your keen instincts… You always did have a good gut feeling when someone was staring at you. Taehyung didn’t break the eye contact even as his heart got heavy and memories began rushing back in his mind 10 fold. He couldn’t. Your eyes stared back into his and your mouth was slightly agape. It seemed you two were the only ones in the world at that moment and it was as if the Earth itself stopped rotating. It was as though neither of you wanted to ruin whatever on Earth this trance was so you remained still. Staring.

Somehow in the midst of all this staring Taehyung’s legs moved and he was in front of you. Tall as ever. Still no words were spoken… until Taehyung decided he had stared enough and reached his hand up and caressed your cheek softly resting his palm there for a second. “Y/n… I’ve missed you.” Were the first words he said to you. Taehyung let his mouth speak for him before his mind could catch up.

“Taehyung.” You said softly now holding his hand that was on your cheek.

Both of you knew there was tons to speak about but right now in this moment you both thought it could wait a bit. You were in your own old world now and you both wanted to remain there before you had to face the music and face decisions that could possibly alter any sense of normalcy.

No, that’s for fantasy.. This is real life.

Reader POV:

“No… I can’t just pretend everything is okay. You hurt me Y/n.. hurt me too much. It took a lot for me to even confess and you turned me down, I understand why, but no. I’m going to need time before I can just jump back into our regular selves.” Taehyung removed his hand from your cheek and immediately you missed the warmth his hand brought you. You gulped before deciding to speak.

“I know Taehyung trust me I know. But we both needed that time. I dealt with my alcoholism and I’m better. I wanted to be better so that when we found each other again I could be someone worthy of your love. I know it was selfish of me, but I wanted you to pursue your dream here in Paris. But NOT while I was an alcoholic who couldn’t go a day without drinks. I’ve been sober for the past 365 days. You inspired me to be better and I’m so so grateful for you. You’ve made a big name for yourself and I’ve never been more proud. I love you. More than what you may think. Take the time you need, I’ll wait for you no matter what.” You wiped a stray tear from your cheek and took a step back. Taehyung didn’t respond rather he pulled you into a tight embrace and gave you a kiss on the forehead.

“Tomorrow. Meet me at the Eiffel Tower. 8 pm. Sharp. If you’re not there I will leave and we won’t have the much needed conversation we need to have.” And with that he walked off into the night without a glance back. You were shaking, but hopeful.

Tomorrow at 8 pm would change everything. You were sure.

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years ago

Note

Hey Steph! Do you know any long, ACD-verse Johnlock?

Hey Nonny!

Ah, I actually very rarely read any ACD canon-verse fics.

Here's what I have on my MFL list from other asks:

No Such Person by Calais_Reno (T, 11,892 w., 2 Ch. || ACD/BBC Time Travel AU || Grief/Mourning, Missing Persons, True Love, Ghosts, Angst with Happy Ending, POV First Person Sherlock) – Sherlock takes the case of a missing man, an army doctor whose sister believes there is something sinister about his disappearance. It's actually a bit more complicated than that.

Bent by lifeonmars (M, 12,101 w., 2 Ch. || ACD Canon || Case Fic, Realization, First Kiss, Mystery) – Sherlock straightens a poker. Something in John's mind snaps. For all fans of The Speckled Band.

Holmes' Mistake by pandapony (E, 13,430 w., 8 Ch. || ACD Holmes || Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Regret, Oral Sex, John First Person POV) – Sherlock Holmes rarely makes mistakes. But the one time he did, Watson paid the price. Now, as Watson heals from the assault, their dynamic has changed. Is Holmes' new behavior stemming from guilt, or something deeper?

The Adventure of the Vatican Cameos by Garonne (E, 18,710 w., Ch 2 || ACD Canon || Case Fic) – Holmes and Watson solve a case in Catholic London while navigating the turbid waters of their new relationship.

A Visit To The Doctor by flawedamythyst (T, 28,318 w., 1 Ch. || ACD/BBC Crossover || Time Travel, Hollywood Physics) – When Watson gets ill, Holmes goes to extraordinary lengths to get him well again.

The Afterlife of Doctor John H. Watson by flawedamythyst (G, 31,103 w., 1 Ch. || Ghost!Watson, ACD Canon) – An account of Doctor Watson's actions in the years following his death.

The Unsinkable Ship by drjohnhwatson (NR, 36,758 w., 5 Ch. || ACD Canon Holmes Titanic Fusion || Retirement, Established Relationship, Historical References) – Holmes and Watson board Titanic for her maiden voyage.

Totus Mundus Agit Histrionem by mistyzeo (E, 42,715 w., 8 Ch. || ACD Canon Actor AU|| Murder Mystery, Different First Meeting, Blood, PTSD, Case Fic, Frottage, Oral Sex, Minor Violence, First Time, Bed Sharing, Anal Sex, Romance, Living Together) – January, 1881: a despondent army doctor is offered a ticket to a Shakespeare play, and is instantly captivated by the fellow playing the Danish prince himself. Then there is a murder. Then they fall in love.

The Devil At Prayers by always_1895 (T, 50,846 w., 22 Ch. || ACD Canon / Victorian AU || Friendship, Case Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Murder, Politics, Intrigue, Mystery, Historical, Treasure Hunting) – Emily Watson and her twin sister were raised in a peaceful English manor house. But when a mysterious Professor arrives to visit her father, she is thrown headfirst into a murderous conspiracy. Forced to seek refuge with her only living relative, half brother Dr. John Watson, she discovers that he lodges with the infamous detective, Sherlock Holmes. Book 1 follows Emily and Holmes as they begin to unravel her own mystery, when they are introduced to the case of a missing Russian diplomat. The thread connecting the two cases runs deep, and they race against the clock to uncover the politician's whereabouts before political tensions reach a breaking point. Part 1 of the Queen and Country series

Conductor of Light Series by Calais_Reno (M, 84,970+ w. across 8 stories || Series WiP || ACD Canon || Drug Addiction, Prostitution, Bed Sharing, URT, Doctor John, Protective Mycroft, Minor Injuries, Developing Relationship, Jealously, POV Sherlock, Case Fics) – A non-canonical, not-quite-an-AU retelling of ACD's detective and his doctor. The stories assume that Watson was an unreliable narrator attempting to make his telling of their cases acceptable for publication. As a narrator, Holmes is more reliable, but justifies many things to himself as he struggles to understand and express his feelings for Watson.

Missing Pages Series by PlaidAdder (M, 108,516 w. across 27 works || ACD Holmes || Period Typical Homophobia, Short Stories, Jealousy, Developing Relationship, First Time, Mutual Pining, Canon Typical Violence, Past Drug Use/Addiction, Grief/Mourning, BAMF Watson, Dirty Talk, Protective Mycroft, Marriage, Fluff) – This is a group of interlinked short stories (most between 2000 and 7000 words) which tell the story of how Holmes and Watson really came to be separated at the Reichenbach Falls, and how they found each other again. Each story is in the form of a document--a letter, a journal, a surveillance report, an affidavit, etc.--which is linked to one or more ACD canon tales, and which tells us something about that story that was changed or suppressed in Watson's published account of it. Holmes/Watson, with glimpses of other relationships. Only one story ("The Boy in the Boat," which is f/f) is rated M. Everything else is T.

Since First I Saw Your Face by Stavia_Scott_Grayson (M, 338,544+ w., 17/22 Ch. || WiP || ACD Canon / 1884 Victorian AU || Friends to Lovers, Pining, UST/URT, POV Sherlock, Christmas, Developing Relationship, Turkish Baths, Victorian Attitudes, Sussex Holiday, Cocaine, Holmes’ Childhood, Cold Cases, References to Canon) – During the Great Hiatus, Holmes, studying in Tibet, reflects on his first meeting with Dr John Watson.

----

Tried to keep the word count above 10K, so I do have some more, but they're shorter.

I also have these ones as crossovers that I've read:

echoes through time by chellefic (E, 21,619 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Romance, ACD & BBC, Epistolary) – Mummy sends a trunk from the Holmes cottage in Sussex to 221B. Its contents alter the way John and Sherlock see themselves and one another.

The Curious Adventure of the Drs. Watson by ShinySherlock (M, 40,883 w., 14 Ch. || BBC & ACD Fusion || Victorianlock, Time Travel / Magical Realism, Friends to Lovers, Love and Kissing, Romance, Body Swap) – What if ACD Watson and BBC Watson switched places... “Imposter!” Hands clenching the lapels of John’s coat, Holmes shoved him anew. “Yes!” John agreed, nodding, and then grimacing. “Sort of!”

AND FINALLY here are a couple of lists:

Victorianlock

ACD Canon

Feel free to add more, friends, if you have them!

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #acd canon fics #help steph find fics

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renjunbae · 3 years ago

Text

resurface; kim jungwoo.

synopsis : all you had wanted was a quiet summer by the beach to relax, escape the oppressiveness of the city, and get your mind off of your last disastrous relationship, but apparently peace was hard to come by, especially when a figure from your past reappears unexpectedly in your life.

pairing : kim jungwoo x fem!reader

genre : beach resort au, university au, romance, fluff

warnings : (very) mild profanities

length : 7.1k

soundtrack : let me drown - deanz ft. andy delos santos; u n eye - boy in space; sun goes down - aiyo

author's note : this is part of the ot23 "resonance beach" collab hosted by @amorajae. thank you so much for letting me participate & go check out the collab masterlist for more addicting summer reads!

Socializing had never been so suffocatingly painful and pretentious.

Clinking champagne glasses, aimless mingling and a forever unending charade of polite smiles that never quite reached one’s eye, they surrounded you like a shroud that made it hard to breathe, a shirt that was too tight and biting uncomfortably at the neck. Much like the very dress you were wearing at the moment; form-fitting, over-the-top fancy, and narrow in all the spots you hated.

Oh, how you wished to change out of it all. Rip off the structured binds around your entire being, take off and away from the repetitive scene that had become more frequent over the past weeks and the main cause of your headaches. But there was nothing you could do about it except stare uselessly at the clock as its hands ticked by at an excruciatingly slow pace, and you hated that fact more than anything else.

“Well then, it has been lovely to meet you, Miss (Y/N). I can see that your parents have done an excellent job raising such an elegant and well-mannered young lady.” The concluding words, along with an outstretched hand, snapped you out of your misery and forced your attention back to the middle-aged man before you. Already, you were struggling to recall his name from the brief—or was it excruciatingly long?—introduction he’d done when he sought to strike a conversation with you twenty minutes earlier. Was he a superior of your father’s? Or maybe a recent acquaintance of your mother’s? You didn’t know, nor cared, really. After two hours of entertaining your parent’s countless associates with answers to their onslaught of questions about which college you attended and other various aspects of your personal life, you no longer had much energy left to spare for further pretense.

For the entirety of the exchange, you’d somehow gotten by with absentminded nods and murmured agreements. Thankfully, your latest companion was too immersed in his tales to notice your drifting focus and lack of interest, at which you almost heaved a sigh of relief. If your parents had received word of your misbehavior, you’d be a goner for sure, and you certainly were not looking forward to another round of their droning lecture about mannerism, etiquette, and public image.

“It was nice meeting you too,” you managed to return with a smile that was just about passable for being semi-enthusiastic, though inside, you were cringing hard at your poor attempts of keeping up the graciously civilized front your mother had always insisted for you to display in public. Forget the crowded dinner parties, forget the fancy evening galas, with every passing minute you were closer to less than a hair’s breadth away from plopping down on the nearest sofa and calling it quits. But you retained your composure and made sure to wave politely as the man stepped away, only letting out a long-held breath after his figure had completely disappeared amidst the crowd.

The room was getting uncomfortably stuffy, and your desire to leave was ever growing as you struggled to get through the throng of chattering bodies for some space alone. Sure, you’d been at a number of clubs and parties with your friends, but they were always on the more laid back and easygoing side of the atmosphere spectrum. You didn’t have to put up a perfect front for others to examine, nor be pressured to uphold your entire family’s reputation. And you certainly wouldn’t be obliged to answer your mother’s calls from ten feet away, beckoning you over to no doubt meet another friend of hers.

It was all the same, over and over. Introductions, small talk, and then going into the personal life of the (L/N)s’ “all grown up” daughter.

“Neo Tech University? The top school in the area? How nice!”

Your father beamed proudly. “Of course, she’s my daughter, after all.”

The adults laughed. You didn’t join them, instead picking at the fabric of your gown until the conversation required your participation again.

“She’s matured so much, I bet she has all the boys at her heels already,” The lady commented, to which your mom immediately responded with a pleased smile and, “Of course, she’s got a boyfriend too. They’re soo cute together. Hey, honey, how come he hasn’t come around in a while?”

God, why? Why, of all things, did they have to bring this up? You felt your insides squeezing together painfully at the mention of the topic, your fists clenched so hard you could feel your fingernails digging into your skin. You’d thought this night couldn’t get any worse than it already was, but you were wrong, it just did. Their gazes were all set on you expectantly, and you hated the attention. Hated being the focus of the conversation and picked apart to the seams.

“We broke up,” you said eventually, avoiding your parents’ eyes.

Your mother's smile fell away to an expression of shock and disbelief. “Why? I thought you two were doing so well with each other.”

Yeah, we were, before he cheated on me, you were tempted to say. To firmly erase any of your mother’s misconceptions that she had even a single idea of what was going on in her daughter’s life. But you just shrugged nonchalantly, as if the breakup was only a trivial matter. If you’d told them the truth, your mother would’ve no doubt considered it a huge blow to her reputation.

“It’s alright, you’ll find someone else who’s worthy of you,” the lady patted your shoulder sympathetically, and you felt your face heat up in a mixture of humiliation and frustration. The last thing you needed was someone telling you that in public.

You figured this was a good time to leave, maybe dig a hole and bury yourself in it. Tonight had been a suitable enough reason. Murmuring a quick apology to the adults, you excused yourself and made your way toward the exit before your mother could intercept. People stared as you passed, but at this point, their hypercritical looks were the least of your concerns. If grown-up life was beyond the point of “childishness” and “selfish acts”, then you’d grown beyond the point of caring.

By the time you’d arrived home, it was already ten o’clock. You and your parents had left for the gala around six-thirty, which meant you’d spent at least a good three hours and a half at the venue, engaging in hollow, repetitive conversations with near strangers. It was exhausting, to say the least, and you found yourself craving a warm bath the moment you stepped through the door. But you had your priorities set straight, and after changing into some casual clothing, you made a beeline for the kitchen to make yourself a pot of ramen. You were practically starving after almost an entire night of strolling around and snacking only on lady-like portions of foreign delicacies at the event.

While the water boiled, you dialed your best friend’s number. She’d told you of her plans—or the lack thereof—this evening, consisting of nothing but binge watching anime and consuming an inhumane amount of triple chocolate fudge ice cream. That was basically an open invitation for you to call her whenever you felt like ranting about old men and how it just wasn’t fair no one else was obligated to chat for hours on end with them about stock market prices, and you accepted it gladly.

Yera picked up on the second ring. True to her word, you could hear the incoherent Japanese shouting of the characters in whatever anime she was binging at the moment.

“How did it go? The gala?”

Just the sound of her voice was enough to ease some of the tension in your shoulders. Your best friend always knew what to say and how to lift your spirits in times like this, no matter how blunt and straightforward she may be, and you were looking forward to her advice.

“Terrible,” you groaned. “Whoever came up with the idea of stuffing over two hundred boring, judgmental business people in a room far too bright and oxygen-lacking must’ve been out of their mind.”

You heard Yera snort from the other side of the line. “Yeah, no shit, sherlock. You know, I’d reassure you it’s not that bad, but I know it’s exactly that bad.”

You shifted your position so that you faced the kitchen window, where a view of the city’s nightscape unfolded before your eyes. The sky was dark, but thousands of glimmering lights made up for it—neon billboards, cars flying by on the busy streets below, office lightings, roadside lamps, and glowing patches of yellow from residential buildings like your own. You stared out at the sea of twinkling sparks, and for a moment, felt so very small amidst the immensely vast world.

“They mentioned him.”

There was only a beat of silence. Yera didn’t need long to catch onto who you were referring to.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, they were talking about boys and then my mom brought up the fact that I have a boyfriend—had, actually,” you sighed, an action you found occurring more often than not lately. “Guess I forgot to tell them he’s an ex now, but then again, they didn’t ask before.”

“Gosh, that must’ve been so awkward.”

“It was,” you shut your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose with your forefingers. “You tell me. I had to leave, right away. I’m just glad it’s over now.”

“Wait wait wait, hold on. How many of these event thingies have you gone to in the past week?”

“Three, not counting the time my mom had some friends over for lunch. They stayed until dinner, actually, and we had to go out and eat.”

“What the heck?? And you let them drag you along?”

“It’s my duty to accompany them, I guess. They’d be mad if I don’t go and let them show me off for a bit. But then again, there usually aren’t this many events. My dad just signed a contract with some important clients, and my mom’s been invited to a bunch of social gatherings, plus the fact that normally, I’d have school as an excuse. There’s just been more of them recently, and it’s not like I have any good enough reason to opt out.”

Yera gasped. “It’s summer. Summer!! That’s all they should need. It’s summer break right now and it’s your time off. They shouldn’t need any more reason than that. And whether it’s the norm or not, you have to know that you are in charge of yourself and that you get to decide what you do with your own life, not them.”

“You have a point, Yera, you always do, but...” you shook your head. “I honestly don’t know at this point. Things are easier said than done. I hate it all, but in a way, it’s part of my responsibility.”

“Okay, oookay. That’s it. No more dinner parties or rich people galas for you, (Y/N). It’s your time off and I’m going to make sure you take some time off. Aren’t you tired of them ordering you around? You’re the one who’s in control of your own life, (Y/N). Go have a nice vacation and stay away from adult business for at least a few weeks, or I’m not letting you anywhere near my mom’s homemade honeycomb brownies again, got it?”

If Yera was bringing her mother’s brownies into the deal, then you knew she was serious. Somehow, despite the situation, you almost felt like laughing. Felt like you were invincible, as if her words brought a surge of confidence along with it. Smiling up at the night sky, you said, “Well, I guess I have to do it for those brownies.”

“Good, now go on and take on the world!”

The world—or, namely, your parents—was clearly not amused when you dragged your suitcase into the living room at eight in the morning the next day, dressed in a flowery blouse, your favorite jean shorts, and a pair of heeled sandals. They’d been eating breakfast at the dining table just ten paces across as you entered, engrossed in a conversation about the latest commercial trends and news of the business world. They looked up at the sound of wheels against the marbled floor, an initial expression of shock crossing their faces as they took in your outfit and the luggage in your hands.

Your father looked almost bewildered as he glanced between you and your mother, who’s brows had deepened into a frown. She shook her head as if to clear away thoughts of disbelief, though you could detect the note of disapproval that was weaved into the action.

“What’s with this?” she asked, her tone stern and commanding, almost as if to compel you into saying exactly what she wanted: “Nothing, mom. I’m not going anywhere.”

It had always been that way. You’d intend to do something, and she’d shut you down before you could even try. But not this time.

“Carrying out my plans for summer break,” you replied and paused before continuing. “Why?”

The lines on your mother’s forehead deepened. “Plans?”

She was waiting for you to either straight up admit what you were up to or give up. You knew that, and you didn’t want to beat around the bush either, so you looked her right in the eyes and said, “Summer vacation plans, mom. I’m leaving today.”

“(Y/N), I thought we already talked about this. You can’t just—”

“Go around and quit my duties? Yeah, I know.”

“Then what are you doing right now?”

“I’m not quitting,” you said through gritted teeth, “I’m taking the break that I deserve.”

“You’re running away,” your mother accused, her voice trembling with incredulity and, despite her apparent effort to keep it controlled, a slight hint of anger. “You’re going back on your promise and you’re not going to do what you should just because you don’t want to. Stop being so selfish and naive, (Y/N). You’re not a child anymore.”

It was something just suddenly snapped inside you, and all your pent up frustration boiled over. “Selfish? Mom, do you ever think about how I feel? I’ve put up with all the things you wanted me to do and I can’t even have a single moment when I try to focus on my own happiness for once?”

“You promised—”

“I’m not a replacement for him!”

Your parents stared, momentarily speechless from your outburst. In the silence, you felt the frustration and anger wear away and bubble down to something that resembled a fevered hurt. The broken pain in your mother’s face seemed to mirror your own, but the words slipped out anyway.

“No matter what, I can’t be him. I can’t replace him. I know that’s what you want me to be, and that if I was, maybe you could think that he’s never gone, but I can’t. I just…”

You could see that your comments had hit their mark.“(Y/N)—” your mother started.

But at this point, you were too tired of arguing to continue. You didn’t wait to hear what she had to say, only picked up your bags and headed for the entranceway. You exhaled as the door clicked shut behind you. Gosh, I’m really going to do this, am I?

Resonance Beach Resort was a nice change from the usual fast-paced schedule of your daily life that was full of unwanted obligations and tasking duties. You'd visited often in your early childhood and teenage years, and had loved the place for its elegant, luxurious accomodations and the spectacular view of a pristine beach that spanned along the resort's outer edge. But since some time ago, all the pressure and weight of your increasing responsibilities had suddenly just came crashing down on you, and you found yourself taking cram school more often than not due to your parents' constant urging. There just simply wasn't any time for you to take the long vacation you desperately craved. Now that things have finally lessened up to nothing but socializing with your parents' acquaintances, this was the first place you'd thought of for the perfect getaway. Just hide away from the rest of the world for a little bit before reality kicks in and you'd sink back into your busying routine. Here, you could finally have some peace and quiet, be able to breathe easier for once. No more business events or get-togethers, no more forced polite conversations over tall glasses of champagne. If you were going to party, then you should at least do it properly. You figured that aside from relaxation and watersports, Resonance Beach Resort had exactly that.

You'd switched over to your spare phone for the duration of your stay. If your parents decided they've had enough of your “childishly selfish acts”, they'd be greeted by a long period of ringing without answer, followed by an irksome beep and the message that, "sorry, the number you've dialed is not available".

The fight still simmered fresh at the front of your mind, and you shook your head in an attempt to brush it away. A small part of you felt almost guilty about your abruptly impromptu runaway, but it was merely a fleeting thought that passed as quickly as it had come. You knew how hard it was for your parents since what had occurred years ago, and that they were afraid of the same thing happening with you. Still, it wasn’t fair for you to bear the burden of two and act in as a mere substitute only to make someone else feel a bit better. Since when did you owe your parents your entire summer break to play pretend anyways? It isn't as if it actually helped you do anything except feed your growing boredom and frustration for hours on end.

You walked into the entrance hall and made your way to the reception area that sat in the middle of the gentle hum of music and red carpets and golden chandeliers. After going through the check-in process, you received your room cards and headed toward your room to drop off your luggage first.

The west-side elevator was mainly empty aside from a few other visitors who, like you, arrived earlier than most do. They’d entered before you and stood along the side panels, each scrolling through their devices for news and texts. Why take the time and money to come and visit, you wondered, if they were going to just be on their phones all the time? But then again, you were glad none of them paid any attention to you and savored the peaceful silence. The back of the elevator was adorned with clear glass panes that overlooked the beachside, allowing riders to gaze out at the scenery below them as they rose high above ground. You stared at the swaying palms and foaming waves in the distance, and thought that—despite being here so many times before—the view had never looked so welcoming before. You couldn’t wait until you could get down there and enjoy the feel of the warm sunshine on your back, hear nothing but the calming hum of the ocean.

There was a short ding! as the elevator doors opened and a middle-aged woman exited. You turned briefly to watch her leave and the doors clang shut once more behind her. Some passengers shifted around to space themselves more evenly upon her departure, but other than that, it was the same, still, silence as before. A few more minutes passed, and the process repeated until it was just you and another man standing by the front. On the controls panel, only one floor button was lit up.

He was handsome in the most traditional sense, tall and fit with tousled dark hair, flawlessly smooth skin and wide doe eyes directed at his phone screen. Although he was only dressed in a simple graphic tee and sweatpants, they looked too expensive for the average person to afford and the look suited him so well he could no doubt pass for the modern-day version of Cinderella’s Prince Charming. You almost laughed at the thought. That had been your reaction too when you first saw your ex, and you fell for him so quickly, so easily, it didn’t take much to convince you that he loved you as much as you loved him. After all, why not? His family had been wealthy and influential like your own, and your parents—mostly your mom—had absolutely adored him. You thought you’d been living the perfect fantasy until it all broke down and your palace had turned into nothing more than rubble and ashes.

In the quiet buzz of the elevator, you could hear as the stranger dialed a number on his phone and put it to his ear. Whoever on the other side must’ve answered immediately, because the man started to talk right away.

“Hey, where are you guys?”

“Okay, just checking that you’re in the suite because I don’t have the key.”

“Yeah, I’m almost there, why?”

“Woo wants another bag of his favorite chips from the convenience store? Seriously? We’re at a fancy beach resort and he wants chips from the convenience stores? God.”

“Yeah, I brought them, don’t worry. I swear he stuffed my trunk full of them when I wasn’t looking because I barely even have space in there anymore. Geez, you’d think he would die if he went a day without those.”

“Yeah, okay. Mm-hmm. That’s fine by me. Sounds fun. See you.”

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the conversation, but the slight echo in the space made it easy for you to hear every word the man said. And for some reason, it brought back long-ago memories of you and your brother, having the time of your lives marveling over the elevator’s view. Arguing about whose snacks the ones in the bag were. Roaming around the resort like it was your own home. That wasn’t possible now, of course. He was farther away than ever, and happier. There wasn’t anything you could do except be happy for him, though that did nothing to help the sore ache in you.

Your entire life felt like a train wreck at the moment, but then again, that was why you were here at Resonance Beach Resort in the first place. And as the elevator dinged once more, you were determined to make your summer better. Much better.

An afternoon in the sun seemed to do its trick.

After spending several hours out by the rolling waves, reading magazines and enjoying the spontaneity of doing whatever you’d wanted to on a whim, you were ready to call it a day. The freedom was exhilarating, and though you’d done much less that you would’ve on a typical weekday, you felt much more fulfilled than before. You’d eaten a quick informal dinner down in the dining hall, too tired to spend time on a full-course meal, only stopping by the vending machine on your way back to your room for a drink.

You inserted your money into the slot, pausing for a moment to look at your choices. Ginger ale would be good, you decided absentmindedly, your thoughts already drifting elsewhere. When the drink rolled out of the machine, you stooped to pick it up before preparing to leave. You turned and, not realizing there was someone behind you, ran right into them, your arm bumping against theirs. The impact knocked the can of ginger ale out of your hands and you quickly bent down to pick it up before it could roll away.

“I’m sorry, that was my fault.”

You straightened up to see the man from the elevator. He rubbed his neck sheepishly, an apologetic smile on his face. He was close enough that you could see the curved bow of his lips and the way his eyes crinkled in good humor, the way the tips of his ears were red in embarrassment at having knocked into you.

You blushed at the close proximity between you and the stranger, before remembering your manners and shaking your head lightly, “No, I’m sorry, it was my fault as well. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

The two of you stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say or what to do, until the man’s eyes landed on the room card in your hand.

“Suite 1009? What a coincidence, my friends and I are right next door. Want me to walk you back since we’re—you know—going the same way?”

You gave a little startled laugh, finding a bit of comfort in the fact that even a man as good-looking and confident-seeming as him could stumble over his words in situations like this. You’d pegged him for the type with an air of arrogance, but his voice held a sort of genuine sincerity and modesty along with the charm you’d expected. “Of course, I’d love that.”

As you walked down the corridor together, he seemed to realize something, and started in surprise, “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Jaehyun. Jung Jaehyun.”

“I’m (Y/N),” you smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. Is this your first time here?”

“Well, yes, my friends and I were planning to go somewhere for the summer, and one of my friends recommended this resort. How did you tell?”

“I used to come here a lot, but I haven’t visited in a while. I came back to escape city life, I guess, though I must admit I missed this place tons. The things adult life takes away from you are just plain cruel.”

“I know right? Sometimes I wish I could just go back to seventeen and—”

“Relive that teenage dream?” you finished.

He laughed. “Yeah, exactly.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

“What, don’t you agree?” he looked at you in feigned shock.

You looked up at the ceiling as if searching for the answer in the lights above. “Yes,” you said truthfully, “I do agree.” Though it wasn’t exactly how you felt completely all the time, there was no denying that at least you’d loved the various aspects teenage years had to offer.

“You sound almost cynical about it.”

“Do I?” you shook your head. “Oh, well, personally, maybe, I guess?”

He gave you a weird look. “Think you could sound any more unsure about that?”

The two of you burst out laughing, the sound echoing against the walls of the hallway. As you chatted with Jaehyun, there was an undeniable tingle at the bottom of your stomach, spreading to the tips of your finger and your rosy cheeks. You didn’t know if you were willing to fall in love again, especially after your previous failures and bad encounters in romance that extended beyond your last relationship, but there was no denying that Jaehyun was fun to be around and you enjoyed his company immensely.

So when you both arrived at your destinations, you almost felt sorry to go. You lingered for a second, turning to him almost hesitantly.

Of course you’d see him again, being next-door neighbors for the next few weeks or so, as long as he’s here, but you didn’t want to leave and be all alone by yourself just yet.

Jaehyun seemed to feel the same, and he paused. “So, see you soon?”

You started to respond with a definite yes, but didn’t get a chance to answer. The door next to yours opened slightly, and some inaudible conversing trickled out from the crack. You caught a few words in the back-and-forth as you stood by your room, an amused smile at your lips. Jaehyun rolled his eyes, clearly used to this type of behavior from his friends.

“Oh, don’t mind them. They’re always like this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “They seem fun to be around.”

“Yeah, yeah, when they’re not nagging twenty-four-seven at me to get snacks for them.” Though you could see by the teasing grin on his lips that he was only kidding.

Jaehyun’s friend pushed the door open a little more so that the conversation became more distinctable. And then, a sudden recognition made you freeze in your tracks. Your heart dropped. No. No way. The smile fell from your lips, replaced with a rush of confusion and near-disbelief.

Was that…?

You heard his voice before you saw him.

“Jaehyun! You’re back, just in time—”

Brown hair, plump lips, and bright, playful eyes. His boyish features evolved into something more mature but not unlike its younger version, still lined with the same youthful innocence as years before. He was taller too, though in that moment, at first glance, you felt as if it was the only significant change in him. The familiarity jolted awake a feeling you had not felt since long ago, flipping back the pages of yesterday until it landed on a distant memory that seemed so close yet was so far away. It was like the world stopped spinning for a moment, freezing in time that had both given and taken so much from you.

Your stomach twisted with a mixture of fluttering anticipation and dizzy uncertainty.

Why here, of all times and places, did you have to meet Kim Jungwoo again?

Kim Jungwoo, who was your first love, but also your first heartbreak.

It all started the summer before your high school sophomore year, with an ice cream date as friends and a piggy back ride. You and Jungwoo had known each other for years, having met in elementary and developing a close bond over time. Though you each had your own separate friend groups, outside of school, the two of you often hung out together and spent time at each other’s houses. It wasn’t abnormal for you to have dinner at Jungwoo’s place—because your parents often went on business trips and rarely ever cooked even when they were home—and it certainly wouldn’t be a strange sight to see him on your couch, watching TV and snagging snacks from the basket on the coffee table as he waited for you to finish up your homework so the two of you could go out to the nearby park. It was practically routine when, two weeks after break began, he asked you if you wanted to go down to the beach with him and get some ice cream along the way. You texted back a quick “yes, of course” before flopping back onto your bed and blinking up at the ceiling as if in a dazed dream. And for some reason, you thought hard about what to wear.

It was an issue you never had to concern yourself with before. Jungwoo had seen you in your pajamas, bed hair and all, random mismatching clothes you’d thrown on in a hurry, and even ridiculous costumes you wore as a kid. He’d seen you down in your lowest low, face a mess with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Heck, he probably knew all your embarrassing moments by heart and could recite them on a whim. But recently, you’d started to feel more self-conscious around him, and as days passed, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror more and more, holding up different tops and pants in an attempt to decide which would look nicer. A few years ago, you would’ve laughed at the thought. You? Fussing over clothing for Jungwoo’s sake? Ridiculous, you’d never needed to. But now, it seemed that the fact that he was a boy—and a very attractive one too—just sank in, and suddenly you became all too aware of it.

After shuffling through your wardrobe for ten full minutes, you finally ended up with a closet strewn messily with discarded options and clothing racks and an outfit you dimly recalled that Jungwoo had once expressed his liking for. You’d chosen a pair of thin, spaghetti sandals that were lined with gold, a gift from one of your mother’s shopping sprees, and made an effort to brush your hair neatly to go along with it all. Good enough, you supposed, as you turned left and right to check up on your appearance. Hopefully.

You grabbed your phone and keys, scribbled a note for your parents that you doubted they’d even read, and made your way out the door. Jungwoo was waiting for you at the front, standing casually by his car with one hand in his pockets. Your heart beat faster as you approached, the continuous drumming resonating within your chest and ears.

He’d been looking down at the pavement, scuffling a stray pebble around with his toes, but quickly lifted his head at your footsteps.

“Hey,” he greeted, smiling up at you.

“Wow, looking unexpectedly grown-upish today,” you lifted an eyebrow, trying to mask your nervousness in his presence with the usual snarky remarks. You spoke with a heavy hint of sarcasm, meaning that you were only joking about the matter, but what you said was true in a way—Jungwoo did look nice, though you weren’t about to say that aloud to him. It was as if you’d just noticed how much older he’d become, and how much more matured he looked.

“Really,” he said flatly, though his eyes were crinkled in good humor. “You’re the only one in the dark then.”

You laughed. “Because other people still call you an adorable baby?”

“Haha, so funny.”

You settled into the passenger seat beside Jungwoo and watched as he leaned over to put the vehicle in ignition. His hair had grown longer since his last haircut a few months ago, and they fell over his eyes. He shook them out of his face, reaching up a hand to brush away any remaining strands that stuck to his skin. He turned to grin at you before switching over to your favorite radio station as he started to drive. You tapped your fingers to the beat, and not a minute later, the two of you were singing along to the familiar tune. Jungwoo’s voice soared up and down as he sang in a weird mock accent, and you tried hard to keep your own from trembling with uncontrollable laughter. You both knew that Jungwoo was an amazing singer, but even more so a natural at comedy.

Jungwoo parked the car a few blocks away, deciding that trying to find an open spot in the crowded beachside lots was too much of a hassle. Summer had lured many people out with the promise of good weather, and combined with the dazzling scenery of the sea, who was to say no? The brightness of the skies was all too infectious, your mood soaring like the winds above that cast a blessing of gentle coolness upon the world. It was all so perfect that you’d even surrendered to Jungwoo in a water fight, although quite begrudgingly and continuing to splash in his way afterwards.

The sparkling waterdrops glittered midair like multifaceted diamonds so that although knee deep in water, you felt almost as if you were living in the midst of a glowing fairytale. After spending some time among the rolling waves, the two of you decided to walk around a bit and let the warm air dry your clothes before going to the ice cream store. Morning went by all too quickly, and soon noon had arrived. The sun shone brilliantly overhead, the pavement burning at the soles of your shoes. You grimaced at the heat, hopping slightly to avoid getting scalded and wishing you’d worn something that wasn’t so flimsy and thin. Jungwoo seemed to notice your discomfort, glancing your way worriedly.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” you groaned. “But thanks for your concern.”

He stopped as if to consider something, then squatted down in front of you. “Here.”

“What—” you started in surprise, caught off guard by his sudden action.

“Come on, I’ll carry you.”

You thought your face couldn’t get any redder than it already was, but you swear it just did.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to. It’s my fault anyways. I should’ve worn something more suitable,” you managed.

He grinned up at you. “Yeah, you probably should’ve, but that's what I’m here for, right? Moral and well—physical—support when you make those beginner mistakes.”

“Argh, you bastard,” you half-huffed, half-laughed, whacking his shoulder lightly with one hand.

“Hey! I’m just trying to help here.”

Caught up in the slight back-and-forth, you’d forgotten entirely about the source of it all and let out a strangled gasp when a red-hot pain shot up your feet.

“Yeah, it’s not up for debate at this point. Come on, just get on already. Grab on tight.”

With surprising strength, Jungwoo hoisted you up upon his back, his arms wrapped firmly around your legs to secure you in place. Instinctively, you reached over to cling onto his neck like your life depended on it.

“Gosh, not—this—tight,” he choked out, and although you knew he was half-joking, you mumbled a laughing apology.

You were tense at first, afraid to make a single wrong move. But after a while, you felt tired of staying so still and uptight like a board and relaxed some more. When the sun’s rays stung at your eyes, you laid your head sideways against Jungwoo’s neck, your breaths falling together in the same even rhythm. He hummed a tune you did not recognize, probably another one he’d just made up randomly, and you smiled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you replied innocently. Just thinking how ridiculously likeable you are.

You wondered if Jungwoo could feel, through the thin fabric of your shirt, the pounding of your heart at his back, the same way you could smell the scent of the salty sea air and his favorite cologne on him. Raising a fingertip, you traced a heart lightly against his skin. He flinched. You held back a laugh. You’d done it right on his most ticklish spot.

He wouldn’t be able to tell, what you’d drawn and what you felt toward him, but at that moment, it felt like a nice secret, nestled comfortably within the confines of your heart. Maybe you’d tell him one day, when the time is right. You’d like to.

The ice cream shop of Jungwoo’s designation was just up the street. Apparently, it had opened just a while ago and, according to Jungwoo, he was dying for you to try some of their flavors. You didn’t have a favorite place you preferred, so you agreed without any conflict. As the two of you neared, you held on for just a little bit longer before hopping off reluctantly and fixing your clothes. You wished it didn’t have to end, that the two of you could stay that way forever, snug in each other’s embrace.

But it all changed when you walked inside the store.

The interior was neatly organized, with pastel-colored walls and light brown tables of different sizes scattered around the semi-spacious room, most of them occupied by other visitors. A long counter spanned the back of the shop, most of it built-in glass cases that displayed a colorful array of ice cream in their silver tubs. A couple workers stood behind it in sky-colored uniforms, occupied with a variety of tasks and tending to customers.

You breathed in softly, taking in the scent of chocolate and vanilla and an assortment of fruit. The air around you was cool, and you were immensely grateful for the air conditioners that made the atmosphere so welcoming after spending a long time in the sweltering sun.

“It’s nice here.”

“I know right?” Jungwoo grinned. “Just wait until you taste their ice cream. It’s the best.”

There was quite a line at the counter, and your skin itched with the particles of sand that had stuck to it uncomfortably. Your hair was wind-blown and a tangled mess atop your head, and you felt conscious of the fact that you probably looked like a mess. “Hey, Woo, I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright,” he gave you a thumbs-up. “I’ll pick out something for you. I swear you’ll love it.”

“Okay, thanks,” you laughed. “I’ll look forward to it then.”

After fixing up your hair and wiping yourself clean with a paper towel, you felt semi-presentable and headed out of the restrooms to find Jungwoo. You didn’t see him at the tables nor in the line, but in the close distance, almost hidden from view the rest of the shop but clearly visible from where you were standing, caught your attention.

Jungwoo.

Except he wasn’t alone.

A pretty girl around your age stood by him, donning the uniform of the store workers. She seemed to have just gotten off her shift and was loosening her hair from the ponytail she’d previously kept it in. Jungwoo was chatting animatedly, and she laughed at something he said, then shot back with her own response. He reached over and engulfed her in his arms, swaying her from side to side almost exaggeratedly.

There was a familiarity, closeness, in the way they interacted, and as you watched on, you felt your heart slowly clench tighter and tighter until it felt impossibly suffocating. Was this what heartbreak felt like? An ache so terrible and soul-splitting that you couldn’t quench no matter how hard you tried.

At the side counter, they were still going at it. He grabbed at her to kiss her cheek, but she turned away, pushing herself out of his grasp. He made a few more futile attempts, to no avail, and the two of them burst out laughing, her high, lovely one mixing in with his lower, boyish baritone.

You looked down, and wished you could just disappear into a hole. When you returned to the table after you made sure the commotion in the front had died down, Jungwoo was already waiting with the ice cream. One for him and the other, your favorite favor. He handed yours to you, but you found that you didn’t have the appetite for it anymore. You managed to muster up a feeble “thanks” and a strained smile, staring at the cone in your hands.

“What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t see Jungwoo’s expression, but you could hear the concern lacing his voice. As if he wasn’t laughing so merrily just a second ago.

“Nothing,” you replied, staring at the table. “I should probably go now. My parents said we were going out for lunch today.”

“But you said you didn’t have any plans,” Jungwoo said, confused.

“Well,” you shrugged, “It’s really my mom’s. Anyways, see you later.”

The bell jangled behind you as you exited the shop, the sound not as cheerful as it had been just a while before. A rush of hot air greeted you, but the stinging at your feet could no longer compare to that of the pain in you.

“Oh, okay. See you.” You could still hear his disappointed voice, although you couldn’t fathom just why he wouldn’t be glad to have some time with his girlfriend without you there as an awkward third-wheeler.

You didn’t see Jungwoo again that summer.

TO BE CONTINUED.

thanks for reading! send an ask or comment to be in taglist for upcoming chapters!

#renjunbae's works #resonancebeach #resonancebeachcollab #kim jungwoo #jungwoo x reader #nct #nct 127 #jungwoo #fem!reader #romance

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onthecrosslook · 3 years ago

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Three Acts

Note: @call-me-moo Here goes nothing…

Epilogue

(From this point onward, the chapters will not be illustrated. I attempted to illustrate them, but it diverges from canon so much that I couldn’t find a single scene that worked. I’m really sorry about it. But still, I hope you enjoy the epilogue…and whatever that entails.)

I’m in a wheelchair at Mary’s funeral. The doctors told John I was too weak to leave the hospital, but I insisted on going. Their concerns were warranted, after all- the last time I left, I nearly bled out in an abandoned building. But having my best friend…

Perhaps maybe more…?

I shake the thought away.

I can’t ruin this.

Being with John is the least I can do, and the most I could ever ask for.

I don’t deserve him.

Everyone that was there to pay their respects have already left- not that many people came to begin with. Most washed their hands of the whole situation when they found out who Mary truly was, and what she had done to us. Only John and I stayed afterwards.

Together. Once again, together.

We remain at the grave, respectively sitting and standing in companionable silence. Neither of us are sure what to say- to each other, or to Mary, I’m not sure. It’s fairly overcast, and I can see the beginnings of storm clouds rolling in above us.

How appropriate.

I exhale and tentatively steal a glance at John. He looks calm, but I can see a range of emotions flashing in his blue eyes as he stares at Mary’s gravestone. One of his hands is balled into a shaking fist, and the other loosely holds a bouquet of white lilies.

“Sherlock,” he murmurs, his voice cracking with emotion and painful, unsaid words. “Sherlock, what…what am I supposed to say…?”

He killed his wife.

I swallow hard. I’m not sure what to say, either, but anything I could do…“Do…would you like me to speak first?”

He killed his wife for me.

John nods stiffly and stands back, before hesitating and pushing my chair a bit closer. He looks as though he wants to say something to me, but he bites back the words and keeps them to himself.

I take a deep, shaky breath. “…Mary. I…I…want you to know that…Even if- if you shot me. Even if you…with Rosie…Even after all that, I- I think…I forgive you. You were selfish. And you- you lied, and you hurt everyone. But…you were also kind. And you were selfless, sometimes. And I saw some of the love you had f-for everyone, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Where is this coming from? I hated Mary, I hated her, I really did, I hated her smile and her words and her subtle manipulation throughout the entirety of our fabricated friendship-

“Sherlock…” John says softly, urging me to stop getting lost in my mind. It’s funny how he can do that with a single look…

I can’t stop. Not now.

“-And…and I know I should be…the last person who tells you about love, because…because I’ve only truly…truly known what it meant after meeting John.” I don’t look at John. I’m too afraid of how he’ll react. “And…and you. I don’t…believe in the afterlife, you’re aware. But…I- I hope…” I feel hot tears burning my eyes. “I hope you’re at peace, Mary.”

John rests a hand on my shoulder as I choke back tears. I flinch at the sudden contact. He doesn’t say anything further as I take deep breaths to regain my composure.

I shouldn’t be this emotional. I shouldn’t care.

“Sherlock,” he repeats again, the barest trace of a smile on his face. “How- how do I compete with that?”

I laugh and lean into his touch. It feels warm, comforting, loving.

It feels right.

I smile weakly back at him. “Just say what's on your mind. You’ll be all right.” And I mean it. He will be all right.

He sighs and walks forward. A moment passes before he finally builds up the courage to begin speaking- and once he starts, it all rushes out of him like an unblockaded river. “Mary. You were my wife. Once. And…and yes, I shot you. But you shot Sherlock, so I think we’re even. You were a liar. And a killer. But I suppose that’s my type, yeah? I can’t help going for the crazy ones. It’s…it’s my addiction.” He glances towards me, pain in his eyes, before looking back. “I just…I don’t think I could forgive you, normally. But…if…if Sherlock could- if my favourite bloody sociopath could find it in his heart to…I…I think I can, too. Goodbye, Mary. I think I’ll be happier now.”

He deserves it. John Watson has been through far too much heartache, he deserves to have a bit of happiness.

“John, are you all right?”

His expression lightens a bit, as though he’s gotten a lot off of his chest.

I suppose, in a way, he has. Catharsis can be a wonderful thing.

“Yeah, Sherlock. I’m all right. For the first time…in…in a while. Come on. I’ve got to finish moving my stuff back to Baker Street, and I’ll be damned if you use being shot as an excuse not to help.”

I smile softly. “No excuses?”

“None,” he agrees, before leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss against my lips. “I think we’ve been making excuses for far too long.”

I know we have. Things will be different, at first. It’ll take a bit of getting used to. But I think we can do it.

Sherlock Holmes…and John Watson.

¿?MThIeSS?MEnd¿???

“R, sweetheart, do you have eyes on Sherlock Holmes?” A smooth voice- just like honey- creeps into R’s ear like a particularly cunning virus.

R swallows bitterly as her lips curl into a snarl. “Yes, sir. He’s at the grave,” she growls, her American accent feeling much more natural than the British one she had been faking for so many years.

“Excellent,” the voice says, which isn’t the most original comment, considering how many criminal masterminds have said ‘excellent’ in regards to evil plans before. “Ugh, isn’t he boring?”

“Who?” R asks reluctantly.

“John. So plain, so obviously in love- oh, I think he finally kissed his little boytoy! Bravo, John, it only took you five years!” The voice is taunting, emanating energy as though it would never again have a chance to play. “I’m sorry, that’s a bit of a sore spot, isn’t it?”

“Of course not, sir,” R says curtly, ignoring the previous musings. “Would you like me to eliminate them?”

“No, no, no!” the voice shouts viciously, making R flinch. “Don’t you dare touch a single curl on that pretty thing’s head! I want Sherlock to recover and be healthy for our next round.” He says ‘round’ as though it’s such an intimate thing- it’s altogether rather surreal.

As much as R would like to put a bullet in each of their heads, she controls her impulses. God knows what he would do to her if she did. “Yes, sir.”

The voice groans. “Stop with the formalities, Mary. It’s so dull, and you of all people should know how much I despise dull people.” He lowers his tone to something dark and deathly soft. “Refer to me as ‘sir’ one more time, and I will string your bloody corpse up in Regent’s Park for the birds to have at you.”

Mary swallows, her gun shaking violently from her sniper’s post. “With all due respect, Mr. Moriarty, Mary is no longer my name,” she whispers.

“Ah, well, it suits you!” Moriarty exclaims over the comms, his voice back to its regular gusto. “Head back to the car, Mary. We need to discuss your punishment.”

Mary pales. “Punishment, Mr. Moriarty? But- I haven’t-“

He laughs. It sends shivers up her spine. “Mary, Mary, quite the contrary,” he quips. “You nearly killed my favourite pet. Shooting him near the heart- tsk, tsk, I expected better of you. The little joke about saying ‘hi’ to me was clever, too, but I can’t have this go unnoticed. We’re both professionals, I’m sure you understand!”

“But-“

Moriarty interrupts her with a shout. “BUT I suppose I’ll be lenient, just this once.” He seems to be barely holding back deranged giggles. “Instead of taking your hand, I’ll settle for a finger. Off you pop!”

The line cuts off abruptly as Mary feels a needle plunge into her neck, and she suddenly wishes she hadn’t worn a bulletproof vest when confronting Sherlock…

(To Be Continued!)

Act One linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/656892650818011136/three-acts

Act Two linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/656968775195934720/three-acts

Act Three linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/656990419321864192/three-acts

Act Four linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/657145687996301312/three-acts

#bbc #john watson #sherlock #sherlock holmes #johnlock #jim moriarty #post reichenbach #mary is not good #she’s actually pretty evil #sherlock fanfic #mycroft holmes #miss me #moriartipocalypse 2021 #moriarty is alive #Moriarty was real

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kajaono · 4 years ago

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Another reason why Elementary is such an awesome show are the mental health issues. Sherlocks ACD canon drug use gets handled really different by different adaptations. Miss Sherlock made it into a addiction to sugar and RDJ Sherlock Holmes completly ignores the topic. In BBC Sherlock Sherlocks drug use is one of many recurring topics that never gets adressed, like Johns alcoholism and anger issues.

Elementary would not work without the whole drug rehab topic because this how he meets Joan. Sherlock drug use is a constant topic for the course of seven seasons. We see him in support groups and all his struggles releated to his past drug use. But not only that. We also see him discussing the need for support groups for women of sexual trauma. It is not a one epsiode thing but something that gets discussed for a long time. Spreading awarness and helping to educate the viewer. Or Sherlock dating a women with autism.

Elementary might not be diverse when it comes to sexualities, but it did an amzing job when it comes to the representation of mental health issues and i think it deserves more credits for that

#mental health #elementary #elementary season 3 #elementary 3x03 #elementary rewatch

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gray-is-neutral · 4 years ago

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Before the Fall

Hey y’all! I posted this on my AO3 acount, but I wanted to post it here too.

......however, if you were to want to check it out.....my name is addicus_ace_of_gray.

If not, that’s chill too. Let me know what y’all think! Leave a comment or don’t that is also chill. Thank you! :)

I looked at the ceiling, mapping out Moriarty’s next move in my mind. I blocked everything out. I had to. Everyone was starting to doubt me. I was used to them thinking it was me who killed the people whose murders I solved, but not John. Never him. He had to know it wasn’t me. He had to. He has to.

It was quiet when I came to. It was dark. Night had fallen while I had laid still. I looked around the apartment. It was a wreck and I understood that, but the idea of cleaning it sent panic coursing through my veins. It didn’t make sense, but I knew where everything was, and I will know where everything is in the morning.

I smelled tea and reheated leftovers. John was home. I weighed my next actions. Does he want to see me? If he really did, wouldn’t he try to get my attention? What if he had been and simply gave up? What if he didn’t want to see me, and is just being really bad at sneaking about? What if he thinks I don’t want to see him? What if..what if?

“Are you here?” John asked in the same stern, but gentle I’ve grown used to.

“Yes,” I responded, monotone.

“Did you figure it out?” he inquired, setting a bowl of soup from yesterday in front of me. His eyes searched me. He was trying to deduce me. He was never quite good at it though. I honestly think that it would ruin him if he was. I would hate for him to ever be anything like me. I would hate for him to know what I see when I look at complete strangers. I would hate for his beautiful heart to become as cold as mine. I would hate for him to be a freak too.

“Sherlock?” he said after a long moment of silence.

“No,” was all I could manage. This was getting past mildly embarrassing.

Moriarty was no longer just a difficult case. He was the cause of my humiliation. I never thought I would care if there was another who could outwit me. I was sure there was. John has many times, and so has Mycroft. I am by no means, unaware that others are more intelligent than I am, but this was something else.

John loved it when I solved the case and saved the day. He has made me a hero, not only in his stories, but in his own mind as well. The problem is that I am no hero. I am a pathetic, lonely, broken addict who can barely call myself a man. I have no illusions about this. I may work on the side of Angels, but never confuse me for one of them. I knew how I am, but I wanted to be the hero he deserved. I let him believe I was a hero; we were playing pretend. We played out this fantasy so long, I almost believed I was good. I was the hero John wanted me to be. I was the hero he saw me as. The hero he needed.

Unfortunately, fantasies never last. Surely John knew I was not the hero he thought I was. Surely he’d listen to the whispers.

“He’s sick.” “I knew there was something off about him.” “Psychopath.” “Murderer.” “Freak.” “Should have locked him up years ago.” “Any second. He’ll snap any second.” I replayed those whispers time and time again. I felt my throat close up.

‘No,’ I told myself. ‘You are a sociopath, you can turn this off. You don’t have to feel this. You don’t have to feel. I don’t have to feel.’

“Sherlock?” John cautiously called to me, trying to pull me from a rut before I could fall into it.

“Yes?”

“Let’s not think about Moriarty tonight,” he said, coming to sit by me.

“Why don’t we play a game, or perhaps watch the telly?” he persuaded.

“Why would we do that?” My heart sped up despite my brain telling it that this was only John.

He was my John, though. He wasn’t like everyone else. He was what kept me here. He was what kept me from going too deep. He brought me to Earth. He put the fear of God in me. He brought me home, patched me up, and ran back out with me. He was my best friend. He made life worth living despite the constant boredom.

I looked John in his eyes; they had an odd look in them. What was that emotion? Was it emotion?

“Because,” he said. He mumbled something else too, but I never got to hear it.

“What?” I stammered a little. I took deeper breaths. He smiled just a little bit. A whisper of a smile that he reserved for girls he had been dating, but this one was more...natural? No. No. No no no no no no. Don’t think like that. Don’t do that to yourself.

Please, don’t do that John. I’m really trying here. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t make my heart feel like it was close to exploding. Don’t make my stomach do cartwheels. Don’t make my face combust in a deep red blush that I can’t hide. Don’t make me blow my cover. Don’t- my internal panicking was interrupted.

“I said, because tonight, it’s just us. Don’t think about Moriarty. Don’t think about Mycroft or Molly or Mrs. Hudson. Let us have some fun while we have this moment?” he suggested.

He avoided my eyes. He was fidgeting with his hands in his lap. He was nervous, and I guessed he noticed that I had figured that out because his ears went that cute shade of pink that could make me lose all of my senses.

‘You are a sociopath! Stop that! Turn it off!’ I screamed internally. I was having a hard time turning it off, though. He looked up to meet my eyes and gave a small, but genuine smile. It was a nervous smile. A nervous smile, but sad eyes. What could that possibly mean?

“What did you have in mind?” I asked coldly. No emotion. I can’t do that to myself.

“Alright, two truths and one lie, but with alcohol,” he said. He leaned back into the couch. He now met my gaze.

“Mrs. Hudson doesn’t like drinking-” I reminded him.

“I know, but she isn’t here,” he responded.

I couldn’t argue with that.

“How does the game work?” I asked him.

“Someone tells two truths and one lie, you have to guess the lie. Guess wrong, take a drink. Guess correctly, the other person has to drink. Winner is whoever is the least drunk,” he explained.

“Okay,” I hesitated. “Who goes first?”

“I’ll go,” he said.

We started the game. As it turns out, I did not know as much about my friend as I thought I did.

I soon got very drunk. Very, very drunk.

Everything was nice, though. I was nice and warm. I was with John, who I think might have been just as drunk as I was. How would I know, though. I was so very drunk.

“Okay. Okay. It’s your turn,” I said, downing the shot.

“Okay, let me think.”

“I actually like the way you turn up your collar when you want to feel cool. I am in love. I’m tall,” he was almost giggling.

I laughed and said, “The lie is that you’re tall.” He smiled and took a drink.

“Your turn.”

I was drunk. I wasn’t in control. I was looking at him. Flushed from alcohol. Laughing from genuine happiness. He was beautiful.

I could hardly be responsible for what I said.

“Okay,” I said. “I am experiencing extremely high levels of dopamine, oxytocin, norepinephrine, and serotonin. I like making you blush. I am not in love with you.” I smiled, proud of myself. I had managed to make him blush again.

“Perhaps we should end the game here. You are hammered,” he said. I took a drink and tried to say something witty. Maybe I had?

I was sleepy.

Maybe I walked to my room? No, he helped me there.

He said something maybe?

He put me in my bed, I think?

He sat at the foot and he...he

He sobbed. Was I imagining this?

He wailed with an anguish I have never heard before from him. Why? Why was he crying?

What did I do wrong?

I blacked out, but as it turned out, I would be asking why a lot more than I had ever thought.

It was early that morning when I realized something was wrong. The memory from the night before was hazy and pieced together from what I found around the flat.

John must have not woken up yet, so despite my splitting headache, I cleaned up the place for him and put on some water for tea.

All I remembered from the night before was his laugh and smile. I also heard this God awful wail that must have belonged to a banshee. God, it still rang in my ears.

I also started up what I hoped could pass for food. I’ve never been much of a cook, but I tried all the same.

As I was making my way to the fridge to look for the eggs, a knock came to our door. It was an odd sort of knock. Solemn and quiet, as if the person on the other side didn’t want to be here. Lestrade maybe?

I went to the door. It was indeed Inspector Lestrade. He stood with his hands folded in front of him. Mrs. Hudson was with him. That was odd.

I looked them both over. They had been crying. Not a good sign.

“Sherlock. We need to deliver the worst sort of news, but we need you to sit down first,” Lestrade said.

I looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“Why? If it’s that horrible, let me go and wake John. He will need to hear this too,” I said, dashing to go get John.

“No. Sherlock-” Mrs. Hudson called after me, but I didn’t get why. John would need to know of this too. He is family. If it concerned me, it concerned him too.

I knocked on his door before dashing through the door. “John wa-” I stopped. He wasn’t there. His bed was made neatly. Everything was in order, but he was gone. Where could he have gone?

“Sherlock. Please sit down!” Lestrade begged as he struggled to hold in his tears. “Please.”

I turned to face him. I was confused. “Have you any idea where John might be?” I inquired. “I can’t be told devastating news if he��s not here. There is no use in-”

“Sherlock John is dead!” he yelled, but I ignored him.

“There is no use in repeating it twice. If John isn’t here, and you go ahead and tell me, then I will have to tell him and if it is truly terrible news, I don’t want to have to tell him.”

“Sherlock did you not hear me?”

“Hush now,” I said as I felt something warm and wet roll down my cheeks. “I have to find John.”

I went weak in my knees. “Sit down Sherlock,” Mrs. Hudson cooed and tears ran in black streams down her face. “He’s in a better place.”

“Better place?” I demanded. I was losing my grip. I could feel my world crumbling.

“Sherlock, I’m genuinely very sorry for your loss.” Mycroft came in. He was not mocking me. He had real tears in his eyes.

“No.” I begged. My whole body shook.

“Sherlock. John’s gone,” he said, stepping between Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. He pulled me into a tight embrace.

I let him. “Tell me it’s a joke. Please please Mycroft. Please. Tell me this is a joke. He’s okay. He’s not gone. Tell me. Tell me please.”

“He’s gone.”

“How?” I demanded. “If he’s dead then tell me how!” I demanded.

“No. Sherlock,” Lestrade pleaded. “Give yourself a little time to process before-”

“He committed suicide.” Mycroft’s cold, monotone voice broke me with his words.

The world seemed to break with me. My mind palace was crumbling. A sound so horrible filled the air. I couldn’t understand where it was coming from. It was similar to the one I heard from the night before.

“I’m sorry Sherlock. You’ll understand one day,” was the last thing I remembered John saying. That wail of anguish was his last night. This morning, it was mine.

I curled into myself and I sobbed. I never knew that I could.

I sobbed and sobbed. I was more than broken. I was more than grieving. I was dying. And at that moment, it didn’t seem all that bad of an idea.

Thank you for reading. :)

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thewatsonbeekeepers · 4 years ago

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Chapter 13 – Out of My Dreams [TFP 3/3]

We’re finally here. I can’t actually believe it. This meta series has exploded over lockdown but we’re finally at the close. The title of this chapter comes from a song in the musical Oklahoma! that you can find here, which has a fantastic dream ballet sequence – weirdly, during lockdown the fantastic film I’m Thinking of Ending Things was released which draws heavily on dreams in Oklahoma!, so maybe that’s my next project. Now, however, onto the end of TFP.

Before jumping into this meta, I really suggest reading this meta by @sagestreet (X) – it breaks down exactly why Redbeard represents homosexuality, and the probability that Sherlock’s repression draw’s on his father’s own repression, which is in turn a metaphor for ACD himself. This is really important in the light of the metatextuality I’ve been plugging through this series, and ties together the 1980s and 1890s themes really nicely – these are the periods of growth for Sherlock and canon!Holmes respectively and their homophobia has to be dealt with.

We left off with about 20 minutes to go, as Sherlock is sinking into the black depths of his mind – the deepest we’re ever going to get as well as the darkest in colour, chiming with the rest of the series. And then – flashes of Eurus, Redbeard and young Sherlock bleeding in through his memory. @sagestreet’s meta argues that Victor Trevor could genuinely have been Sherlock’s first love even at that age, and I don’t dispute the possibility, but I do have an alternate reading for slightly later in age, based on one image alone. Jump back in your mind to TAB, when Mycroft tells Sherlock he was there for him the last time – we get a shot of a teenager in a drug den which is never repeated again, but which has a sense of absolute past trauma attached to it.

I plump for this to be our key trauma personally, but currently I don’t think we have enough information to go on. However, regardless of which age you read Victor, the outcome is pretty much the same. So – Sherlock plunges into dark and we get memories flash before him, and it’s almost like he’s drowned in his EMP, his life has flashed before his eyes – but there is one thing stopping him from dying still. Eurus, trauma!Eurus, is ever a paradox, as repressed sexuality inherently is. On the one hand it’s constantly pushing down and on the other it’s constantly pushing up – and the sheer mania we see in Eurus is only really explicable as a set of mental contradictory impulses in this way. At the end of TFP, we spend so much time thinking that she is trying to kill Sherlock, but she’s trying to save herself and him. His gay trauma has completely regressed to a child’s fear here in the form of the little girl asking why she has been abandoned. The plane in the girl’s hands, going back to the height metaphor, is symbolic of the final struggle for life – as long as it’s in the air, Sherlock is in danger of death (see Chapter 2 ), but he is still under the impression that keeping going by crashing it, and crushing the queer side of him, is the way to go. We see him walk past images of him and Victor as children on the walls and ignoring them, after all.

It’s pretty important that these images are shown just as Sherlock connects to his heart for the first time, who is still drowning of course. The connection is closer and closer to being made! Under that water are the bones, which is symbolic of them being hidden in the recesses of his mind. We get the fantastically awful lines from John, if read superficially, that the bones are ‘small’ – others have been very good at pointing out John’s sudden inability to be a doctor as evidence for the EMP, and so it’s important for us to recognise here that John is not John, but heart!John.

There are other obvious indicators of the EMP here, most notably in the location. Even being out for a couple of hours, it is not possible that Eurus could have done this to Sherlock and John. Who aided her in getting John down the well, and how did they get out? How did they come to shore and not get stopped? How did nobody notice the construction of the giant cell in the garden of Musgrave Hall, and how does it spontaneously open after Sherlock pushes one wall? This switching from location to location – island, cell, home – is a shifting of perspective common in dreams. Moffat has used the idea of there being no time between location shifts before as a dream indicator in the Doctor Who episode Forest of the Dead, so it’s clearly something he has thought about. The pushing down of the wall is a huge symbolic moment – it couldn’t have just been a secret door! Instead, it ties in with the image of the breaking busts from TST as the idea of breaking down walls in his mind – and the drama of it suggests that we seem to have arrived at our final destination.

Everything unites rather wonderfully as trauma!Eurus threatens to drown heart!John, as though this is the culmination of ‘burning the heart’ – because ‘the heart’, both literally and metaphorically, is John! And so the destruction of Sherlock’s heart is happening inside his mind because of John’s suicidal suffering outside. We see the same kind of projection as is implied at the end of TST in the aquarium scene – this pulls in ideas of artificiality, which are important, but it’s also an important visual link. In the death of Mary, Sherlock tries to rerun his own assassination but imagines that John is devastated by the loss of Mary rather than Sherlock because he cannot cope with the queerness – it’s a way of processing John’s suicidal impulses without fully recognising them. This link of someone dying surrounded by water with the projection light shows that this is the revised (and correct) projection of what is happening to John in the real world – it is connected to Sherlock’s heart.

Sherlock, with the help of his heart, finally works out that Redbeard is not a dog. @sagestreet’s meta is useful in pointing out that Daddy being allergic to dogs doesn’t mean that Daddy didn’t want one, just that he couldn’t – and that’s a pretty good way of thinking about ACD’s inability to represent queerness as he might have wanted to, and so stamping on the character of Sherlock Holmes. The fact that he explicitly cracks one of the symbols in his mind is fantastic, because it calls back to the TLD scene suggesting that tea and coffee is some kind of code – there is a code in his brain, and he’s starting to break it down. Victor Trevor, whether child or teenager in reality, here is a child and is chosen I think to look like I imagine a child Martin Freeman would look like, but that’s bye the bye. What’s more important is that together, they played pirates. Given that Sherlock has been drowning in the repressed queerness of his brain, we’ve talked about piracy before as being symbolic of fielding that (see TST meta) and instead riding the wave, controlling it and refusing to drown. This hints at the love that Sherlock and Victor were able to enact, if only in youthful play, mastery of the high seas as opposed to adult Sherlock drowning in them. And then, gay trauma!Eurus traps Victor down a well – forces Sherlock to drown his love in that repression, and we know it’s love because it’s the same well that heart!John is in – Victor is equated with him.

“You couldn’t face it, so you told yourself a better story.” Ah yes – how convenient that it’s all tied up in ideas of fictionalising. I’m just going to leave that one there.

“Deep waters, Sherlock, in all your life, in all your dreams” – linking the Carl Powers pool, the TAB waterfall with TFP, and the light on his face reflecting TST – all of these links tying up 1890s repression (TAB) with 1980s repression (TGG, TST). And what is trauma!Eurus’s motive for destroying Sherlock’s love? ‘I had no one.’ The most striking thing about this is that before Sherlock meets John in the real world, and even during the beginning of their friendship, this is the recurring theme in how he chooses to portray himself. It’s not something that applies specifically to Eurus – it’s what we all associate with Sherlock, more than anything, pointing to this motive being about him. ‘Alone is what I have; alone protects me.’ Remember that? Trauma has forced that specific characterising of Sherlock onto him – his queer trauma necessitates solitude.

We already have a clue that Eurus is the girl on the plane by looking at the plane in her hands as a child, but it also suggests that even in her undeveloped form, the capacity to destroy him has always been there. It suggests a suicidal impulse in Sherlock that goes a long way back, specifically connected to his queerness – which ties in with the teenage addict in TAB as well as the cut scene from ASiP in which Greg implies that Sherlock has been suicidal.

Solving the code is a lovely moment – we have all of these hallowed graves of the past Holmes ancestry, which we can read as the hallowed adaptations over the years – and it’s nothing. It’s completely empty. We are disregarding the Holmeses of the past except to use them as tools to get to our trauma – which is what metatextual references have been doing throughout this series. However, there’s something else tricky that I want to throw up here.

I found this problem on an Australian site here, and haven’t seen it on tumblr although I may be wrong! The problem is the cipher. When cracked, it’s not what Sherlock says it is. It might just be a mistake, as the linked website theorises. The words missing are:

Lost Without Your Love Save

Although they appear in the song, their numbers aren’t in the cipher. It could fully be a mistake, or something cinematographical in not making the full cipher clear on the screen – it passes in a blur, after all. But I want to postulate something a tiny bit tenuous here. Sherlock’s subconscious has clearly been grappling with his repressed love for a long time, and it’s something he hasn’t been able to deal with, stemming right back to childhood. Up until now, he has never been able to crack the case, so to speak. But let’s jump back to the (slightly flippant) moment in TSoT when Sholto is dying, and John tells Sherlock that he’s a drama queen, there’s a time limit, the game is on, this is when he works best. And it’s true! We see Sherlock work under very specific time pressure a lot – look at the bomb scene in TEH and the bonfire scene, literally everything about TGG – the show is littered with these moments, and now they come to fruition. He could keep going living a half-life, in constant trauma, because it was not a matter of life and death, and it was too painful to try to confront it. But now in the real world, John is dying – as we can see by the heart down the well (note that brain!Mycroft is abandoned here, cementing the importance of the heart to this deduction sequence) and so he has no choice. And that is the missing bit of the code! ‘Lost without your love/Save’ is exactly what has propelled him to finally face his gay trauma – the fact that John Watson loves him, and will kill himself if Sherlock does not wake up. !!!

The girl on the plane is Eurus. This should not be altogether surprising for those of us who have seen HLV, because EMP theory seems to be repeating the same motifs again and again. HLV – it’s the Mind Palace. TAB? It’s also the Mind Palace. Now here. We also notice that Sherlock’s brain is reusing the plane from ASiB and the initial phone tactic used by Jim Moriarty – another link to John being in danger. But when Sherlock finally breaks in to his trauma, the most important thing is that it’s not threatening. She’s frightened. She has a constant urge towards death, represented by the plane, that ties into Sherlock’s suicidal urges. They will always be there, every time she closes her eyes – but Sherlock gets her to open them. I don’t have an answer to eye hell (yet), but my current theory is that this is the key – sightlessness is a link to suicidal urges through Eurus.

To jump past the police scene then, which we’ll get to in a minute, Sherlock’s reconciliation with Eurus rather than treating her as an enemy is perfect. Just like trauma!Eurus can never end her suicidal ideation, Sherlock can never put an end to the trauma inside him. Framing this as a battle was always wrong. He resurfaces by learning to live with her and to treat himself with kindness. Forgive me whilst I get soppy, but that’s beautiful. In that light, Eurus remaining in a kinder, friendlier version of Sherrinford is fantastic – she’s still inside him, not particularly desirable, and will never go away, but Sherlock has made peace with her and is friends with her. The violin was a symbol of desire in ASiB and again in TSoT, a way of Sherlock articulating what he could not say, and early in TFP that articulation was destroyed by Eurus’s discordance – here they have learned to play together. A difficult relationship – awkward, dangerous, unsure of boundaries – but a relationship nevertheless.

Rewinding to the police moment – despite the chains around John’s ankles, he miraculously climbs out of the well. More important in this scene, however, is that Sherlock gets Greg’s name right. This is, for me, one of the most significant sections of the entire show. Sherlock has never got Greg’s name right before – it’s a running joke on the show – and the reason Mofftiss have made such a joke of it is that it ties into ACD’s complete inability to remember names. Much like having Mrs. Turner live next door is a nod to canon inconsistency, as is the John/James parallel which, although a mistake in the initial work, they have exploited remarkably well, ACD famously never named Lestrade, only giving him the initial G. This is why Sherlock comes up with every possible G name for him. This is tied into Sherlock’s inability to move beyond the mistakes of canon – we see this weird inability to stick in modern Sherlock’s universe in other ways too, like the slightly old-fashioned nature of his costume (passed off as ‘timeless’, but clearly belonging to old as much as modern times), the deerstalker situation, thinking England has a king, not knowing the earth goes around the sun, not knowing Madonna, seeming to forget who Thatcher is – the list goes on, but Greg is the most constant one. Calling him Greg is a symbol that Sherlock has broken out of the confines of all of the past Sherlocks and has completely slipped into the modern version – which is exactly where he needs to be. Greg saying that Sherlock might be good as well as great – because the persona doesn’t matter anymore.

We should note in passing, in accordance with @sagestreet’s reading of Daddy Holmes as ACD, his disappointment and clear distress at brain!Mycroft hiding trauma!Eurus for so long because it was ‘for the best’. I’m not certain where Mummy Holmes stands in this, though I’m inclined to equate her with Daddy as ACD here, but I’m open to other suggestions for that.

And then we have the final sequence – who you really are. And I admit, I am thrown by Mary’s words – which is a terrible way to end the meta series! She says: ‘who you really are doesn’t matter’ – which is an awful thing to say, although coming from a still present comphet is inevitable. She also says that it’s all about the legend. But regardless of what comphet!Mary says, she’s not there anymore. The life that is being rebuilt is one of two men in Baker Street. Baker Street is the symbolic home of the heart within the EMP, so the rebuilding of that and the replacing of heart!John inside is lovely. Furthermore, if Daddy Holmes is ACD to Sherlock, the idea of Sherlock and John parenting Rosie feels like the start of a new, freer, queerer chapter in Sherlock Holmes history – authorship has changed, and it’s been handed over to a new generation. The final shot, however, hammers home for me the validity of the metatextual interpretation – Sherlock and John running out of Rathbone Place.

I mention the significance of this in an earlier chapter – Basil Rathbone is arguably the definitive Holmes interpretation who has defined the character for many years, and so could feasibly represent Holmes’s film/tv status as the most portrayed character of all time. They’re not running into Rathbone Place – they’re leaving it. They’re on their way up and out of all those previous adaptations, as Sherlock builds a new heart with no comphet.

He’s still got to get out to save real!John though – let’s not get too carried away – although we seem to have broken through the bulk of internalised queerphobia at the end of this series. I’ve previously explained on my blog why I don’t think there will ever be a series 5, and sad as that is, it is just life, so this behemoth of a meta series has actually just been an academic exercise more than anything else! Nevertheless, I hope if you’ve made it to the end that you’ve enjoyed it, and if you have any thoughts on tjlc that spring from this I would love to hear them!

#tjlc #bbc sherlock #meta #my meta #phew #done!

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rabbit-in-blue · 4 years ago

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Questions about Sherlolly

I got tagged by @mychakk, you’re right it’s quite a fun thing to do. Today it’s a mexican national holyday, and we have the day off, so I've had plenty of time to put in this, and really really enjoyed

1. Coffee shop AU: Who is the barista, and who frequents the coffee shop?

I have never read a Coffee shop au, I stared one once, but but I finde it kinda borring, and had to stop. I’m willing to give it another try, if someone want to recomend some good ones.

Now all that said, I agree with you that this would probably need come hand to hand with a Uni Au where Sherlock is the frequent and Molly the barista, that’s a no brainer. One can easily tell he comes from money, and in my very own headcanon she comes from working class family, so yah, that.. Also he probably sits on a booth with several pictures forme police repots and crime scenes and while everyone thinks he is wierd and gross she finde him fascinating, and he finds her curiosity for his work intriging and cautivaiting

2. Highschool/College AU: Who is the straight-A student, and who’s the backrow slacker?

This one could be tricky, since we know both of them as workaholics, each one in their own way, but I only see Molly achieving things by working realy hard, while Sherlock is so smart he probably went through school sleeping or high...

3. Rivals to lovers AU: Who takes their rivalry seriously, and who is half in it just to push the other’s buttons?

I tend to see Sherlock as the kind of guy who is so overconfident that he can not take seriously a rivalry unless she proves herself a threat to him and give him a good run for his money, Molly on the other hand is so friendly and gleeful that she woudn’t even realize they were competing against each other until someone mentioned... Probably Sherlock and she would think it’s sweet, then she probably tell him that they don’t need to be rivals, the both can be equally good at something (maybe chess) and as friends can be happy for the achivments of the other insted of geting all jelous and resentful

4. Enemies to lovers AU: Which one switches sides?

This just can happen in a dark Au, and dark Molly is one of my favorite kind of Molly. Well being part of Moriary network or she being the real Moriary, she would manipulate him for sex, and he would fall for it, then she would revel herself and make him feel stupid and expos... But as a good adict he would get hook on her until he can winn her to his side or have to stop her definetly

5. Soulmate AU: Who is eager to meet their soulmate? Who absolutely does not want to meet their soulmate?

Let me make a twist in here, what if they just go with the flow? nither is particulary eager, nither is particularly closed to the idea, even better what if we put all four seasons in this Soulmate Au, and they have know all along their each other soulmates, but none else know. Everything happens just like happens in the show, except the Sherrinford part, where the coffin can say Dearest Soulmate instead of I love you, and that’s how we learn they have been soulmates this whole time, and then Euros can ask Sherlock if he is going to regret never even tried to be with her.... ahhhhhh

6. Single parent AU: Which one is the single parent? (Alt. if they’re both single parents: Which one is open to starting a new relationship from the start? Which one is never planning on finding love again…Until they meet the other and are instantly smitten?)

The single parent It’s usually Molly and I think ther’s a razon for that. Sherlock having a baby with another wooman feels awkard. Sherlock raising John´s or Microft’s child implies, John or Mycrof been death, and are you ready to be the one who murders Doctor John Watson? No, I don’t thik so...

7. Doctor AU: Which one is the longsuffering doctor? Which one is the patient?

Never have I ever hear of this Au before, but then again no brainer, Molly is a doctor. Sherlock can’t exactly become her patient ‘cause you know, her paitents are dead people... But she is a doctor, and have preety much the same medical training that John, and we all need to remember that Sherlock likes his doctors clean and shaved.

8. Bodyguard AU: Who is the bodyguard? Who are they protecting? Which one is secretly pining for the other?

The obvious answer to this is Sherlock being the bodyguard, and Molly the client, but wouldn't be fun if Molly were the bodyguard? what if she is a ex MI5 o MI6 (I don’t know which one does what) and her job the whole time has been taking care of Mycroft little brother, and that’s how she is able to help him to fake his death, with no consequences...

She can also be a trained sniper, and when Sherlock discovers that, he secretly organizes a shooting tournament between Molly, Mary and John, the three of them being very close, but Mary being the winner by a short margin

9. Pirate AU: Who is the pirate? Who is the member of the royal family who did not sign up for this?

Why one of them have to be a royal? Couldn’t be both of them pirates? or maybe Sherlock is the pirate with the Letter of Marque for his brtother connections with the monarchy, while Molly is the regular kind of pirate, this one can come with his own Rivals to lovers AU...

10. Childhood best friends AU: Which one was super obviously in love with the other the whole time? Who was oblivious until they were older?

They been switching places all along, they like each other buy they’re too shy, she wants to be with him, he wants to be tough He wants to be with her she is with someone. She wants to be with him, he is struggling with drug addiction and he can't handle anything else for the moment. He is ready to give a relationship a go, she is again with someone. They are finally single at the same time and he acts like he's not interested, she meets Moriarty, and so one and so one, and you get the picture... until they’re finaly at sync...

I want to tag @bountyflacko, @emil-gabriel-2000, @petratodd (if someone already tag you just ignore me :P) @thequietone0008, @dragonnan, @poleagles, @crowreys-wormstache and @theleftpill

#sherlolly #sherlolly shippers #sherlolly au #Questions about Sherlolly #mychakk #tag game #mollock #sherlock x molly

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thatfanficstuff · 5 years ago

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Meetings (Part 2) - Sherlock

Pairing: Sherlock x ex!Reader

warnings: not really

A/N: I will link part one in the comments because dumblr is dumb.

***

As if losing Sherlock wasn’t bad enough, John had let it slip that he had an inkling that Sherlock hadn’t been serious about your relationship but he’d never said anything to you. So, you hadn’t talked to one of your best friends in several weeks. Truth be told you’d always been a bit of a loner, but you’d gotten used to having Sherlock around and to seeing John all the time. Suddenly, you felt very alone.

You hadn’t heard from your brother since the day he told you why Sherlock was really interested in you but that wasn’t unusual. You didn’t approve of most of his choices and he was more than aware of it. You were sat at your favorite table in the little café you frequented, your computer open in front of you, but you hadn’t written a word in days. Your heart still hurt too much you supposed. If you didn’t pull yourself together you were going to miss your deadline.

Someone sat in the seat opposite you and you glanced up in surprise. Mycroft Holmes, appearing as regal as ever, looked over you with dark eyes and a frown on his face. You frowned and leaned back in your seat. You’d only met the man a handful of times while you were still with Sherlock and you had no idea what he could possibly want with you.

“You are well?” he finally asked.

“As well as I can be given the circumstances. What can I do for you, Mycroft?” If he was here to plea on his brother’s behalf you were going to lose it. It wouldn’t be the first person Sherlock had sent to talk to you, but it seemed so out of character for the man in front of you, you didn’t want to chase him off until you heard what he had to say.

He cleared his throat and pursed his lips. “I need your help.”

Your brows flew up in surprise. “You need my help?”

His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “To be more precise, Sherlock needs your help.”

You huffed in annoyance. “Well, that’s unfortunate for Sherlock.” You grabbed your belongings and stood. “Goodbye, Mycroft.”

A hand on your arm stopped you. “Just hear me out. Please.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat and while you didn’t move toward the door, you also made no move to resume your seat.

“If it makes any difference, he doesn’t know I’m here. I came on my own behalf as well as his.”

You nodded once and sat back down. If nothing else, you could hear him out and appease your own curiosity. “Talk.”

He glanced down briefly before looking up to meet your gaze. “Sherlock has always been rather emotional.”

You arched a brow but said nothing. Mycroft may very well believe his brother emotional compared to himself. They were both far removed from the normal human spectrum of feelings.

When you didn’t respond, Mycroft cleared his throat. “My brother has often struggled with self-destructive behavior though it had been some time since his last episode. He believes dulling his emotions heightens his mental abilities. Of course, all he is doing is destroying himself and taking his brain with him.”

You frowned. John had mentioned Sherlock’s addiction issues to you before but you found it hard to believe someone so smart could be so stupid. “Are you saying that Sherlock is using again?”

Mycroft pursed his lips and nodded once. “I am and I believe you to be the only person that may be able to reach him.”

“Why would you even think that? He lied to me Mycroft and used me in an attempt to find my brother. I mean nothing to him so why would you think he would care?” It broke your heart all over again to say the words and you were proud of yourself that you made it through without your voice breaking.

He shook his head. “You are wrong, Y/N. My brother cares for you deeply. Your estrangement has nearly broken him.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you.” You couldn’t believe him because if you did, then all the things you’d told yourself to get through the last few weeks would be a lie and you’d slowly fall apart.

“Your lack of belief does not make it any less true I’m afraid.” He sighed. “Just talk to him. That is all I ask. Do that and I will never bother you again.”

The silence stretched as he awaited your answer. “All right, Mycroft.”

***

You pulled your jacket more tightly around you and knocked on the door to 221B. Mrs. Hudson swung the door open and immediately pulled you into her arms. “Oh, Y/N. Thank goodness you’re here. He’s got me worried sick.”

“Hello, Mrs. Hudson.” You patted her lightly on the back and pulled away.

She wrung her hands together. “He’s just been so distraught since you left. And—”

You placed a hand on her shoulder to cut her off. “It will be fine, Mrs. Hudson.” You didn’t give her a chance to respond before you headed up the stairs. You loved the woman but all your energy was already expended just keeping you moving forward.

After taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door to Sherlock and John’s flat. As expected, John was the one to answer. His eyes grew wide when he saw you. He offered a hesitant smile. “It’s good to see you, Y/N.”

You nodded once. “John.”

He glanced over his shoulder before looking back to you. “Are you here to see me or…” he trailed off.

“Mycroft asked me to come.”

“Ah, I see. Well, I’ll just make myself scarce then, shall I?” He grabbed his jacket off a hook by the door and slipped out with a nod.

You stepped into the flat and shut the door behind you. Sherlock was in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him as he stared off into space. He didn’t even glance in your direction. “If that was a client, I hoped you informed them we weren’t taking any cases for the foreseeable future.”

You didn’t respond, instead using the opportunity to look over your former fiancé. The skin beneath his eyes was dark with fatigue and he was more than a little disheveled. You wondered when he’d last cleaned himself up. But nothing about the man in front of you screamed addiction. There were no obvious indications that he was using again.

“John, are you going to—” His eyes fell on you then and he was on his feet in seconds. He closed his robe and tied the belt before raking his hand through his hair in an effort to bring some sort of order to it. “Y/N. I didn’t realize you were here. Why are you here?”

You arched a brow but still said nothing as you were finding it difficult to decide exactly what you wanted to say to him.

“I mean…” He huffed out a breath. “I thought you never wanted to see me again. What changed your mind?”

“Your brother.”

“Mycroft?” He was unable to hide his genuine surprise.

“He’s under the impression you’re using again. Are you?”

His brow furrowed. “What? Of course not.”

“I’ll just be going then,” you said and turned toward the door. Sherlock darted in front of it to block your way. You crossed your arms over your chest as you looked up at him.

“Just…since you’re here let me say what I need to say. Please.”

You turned your gaze to the floor uncertain if you wanted to listen or not. You were still broken, still fragile. One wrong move on his part and you’d shatter all over again.

He reached out a hand then let it drop. “Please, Y/N. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

Instead of answering, you walked over to sit in John’s chair.

There was a brief pause as Sherlock processed that you were actually going to hear him out. “Yes, fantastic,” he said as he stepped away form the door. “Can I get you something? Tea, maybe?”

You darted your eyes up to meet his gaze. “You’re losing time, Sherlock.”

“Of course.” He took his seat with a flourish then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “When I first met you, I had no idea who you were. By the time I asked you to dinner, I knew you were Andrew’s sister. And, yes, that is why I asked you out.”

Your heart twinged with the admission. It wasn’t anything you didn’t already know but the reminder hurt just the same.

“But it only took me a couple of dates to realize that you rarely heard from him and you weren’t likely to be of any more help than anyone else.”

“So, what? You kept dating me on the off chance he’d show up, or I’d let something useful slip?” Bitterness dripped from your words.

“No. I kept dating you because you fascinated me. Everything I discovered about you only made me want to know more. When I realized that I would never grow bored with you, I asked you to marry me. Our relationship may have begun because of your brother, but he had nothing to do with why it continued, I promise you.” His tone was practically begging you to believe him. And you wanted to. God, did you want to believe everything he was telling you, but if it was just another ruse, you wouldn’t survive the heartbreak again.

“How do I know any of this is the truth, Sherlock? Maybe you’re just saying what you think I want to hear to win me back. Maybe you’re still using me to find Andrew.” Your chest ached and you sucked in a ragged breath.

“I already found him and turned the information over to the police.”

You weren’t particularly surprised to hear your brother was in jail again. You were surprised he hadn’t contacted you to ask for bail though. Maybe he believed you when you told him the last time was it. No more money. You shrugged. “Am I supposed to be grateful for that? Thank you, Sherlock for arresting my brother. All is forgiven?”

He gave a sharp shake of his head. “Of course not. I merely wanted you to know that finding him cannot possibly be the reason I want you because he has already been found and I still yearn for you. Please, Y/N. I should have told you from the beginning that I was looking for your brother. I should have given you no reason to doubt my feelings for you were sincere. Are sincere. I love you, Y/N. Nothing will change that.”

Moisture flooded your eyes and you closed them to keep the tears at bay. “You broke my heart.”

“If it helps, I broke mine as well. Please give me another chance. I beg of you.”

A tear ran down your cheek. Sherlock’s thumb was there immediately to wipe it away. God, you’d missed him. When he would have pulled away, your hand found his and pressed it against your cheek. “No more secrets, Sherlock.”

“No more secrets.”

You opened your eyes to look at him then and found nothing but sincerity and hope shining back at you. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. He hooked a hand around your neck and pressed his forehead against yours. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Before either of you could say anything else, Sherlock’s phone rang interrupting your moment.

He huffed out a breath and glanced at his phone. He rolled his eyes and answered. “Mycroft, would you mind telling me why you told Y/N that I was using again?”

“It was for your own good, Sherlock. You haven’t been yourself since the end of your relationship.” His voice was distorted, but you could still hear easily enough.

Sherlock’s gaze narrowed. You knew that look. He’d just figured something out. “Is this because I wouldn’t take the case you wanted me to?”

“Don’t be absurd. However, if you and Y/N have resolved your issues I do wish you would reconsider.”

You pulled Sherlock’s phone from his hand. “Goodbye, Mycroft,” you said and disconnected the call. You sat the phone aside and stood. Sherlock’s eyes trailed your every movement. You held out a hand.

“Come along, Sherlock. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He took your hand and intertwined your fingers as he got to his feet. “Dare I hope that you intend to help?”

“Well, you obviously can’t take care of yourself so someone’s got to.” You tugged him down the hall to his bathroom, grinning the whole way.

#sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock imagine #part 2

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sherlollyandspoilers · 5 years ago

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Here Be Dragons, Chapter One

Molly Hooper is happy. Undeniably, sun shine and rainbows, happy. Then Sherlock utters the name Charles Augustus Magnussen and her world goes spinning. She watches as her friend’s lives fall apart and she struggles to hold hers together.

The third major installment of the Isn’t She Beautiful series.

I’ve been working on this for some time now (about two years) and I did post part of a chapter or two about a year and a half ago, so if this sounds familiar, that is probably way...but I’ve edited it since them.

Prologue:

MYCROFT: I’m glad you’ve given up on the Magnussen business. SHERLOCK: Are you? MYCROFT: I’m still curious, though. He’s hardly your usual kind of puzzle. Why do you..hate him? SHERLOCK : Because he attacks people who are different and preys on their secrets. Why don’t you? MYCROFT: He never causes too much damage to anyone important. He’s far too intelligent for that. He’s a business-man, that’s all, and occasionally useful to us. A necessary evil – not a dragon for you to slay. SHERLOCK: A dragon slayer. Is that what you think of me? MYCROFT: No…It’s what you think of yourself.

---

MYCROFT: I have, by the way, a job offer I should like you to decline. SHERLOCK: I decline your kind offer. MYCROFT: I shall pass on your regrets. SHERLOCK: What was it? MYCROFT: MI6 – they want to place you back into Eastern Europe. An undercover assignment that would prove fatal to you in, I think, about six months. SHERLOCK: Then why don’t you want me to take it? MYCROFT: It’s tempting ... but on balance you have more utility closer to home. SHERLOCK: Utility?! How do I have utility? MYCROFT: Here be dragons.

Sherlock smirked at his brother and took another long drag on his cigarette.

“Besides,” Mycroft said as he dropped his cigarette on the ground and treaded on it, “Your loss would break Molly and Mina’s hearts……and mine as well.” Sherlock choked on the smoke he had just inhaled and turned to his brother, a confused and doubtful look on his face. “You’re still my brother Sherlock and despite everything that has passed between us, I do…care for you.”

Sherlock squinted at his brother, trying to read him.

“Did Molly promise you something if you were nice today?” he asked skeptically. Mycroft smiled and gave a small shrug.

“Merry Christmas, Sherlock.”

Chapter 1

“I shouldn’t have reacted that way – You deserve for me to be better than that. I will be better, for you and Mina.” Sherlock took Molly’s hand in his. “Don’t give up on me.”

“I won’t ever give up on you.” She kissed him hard. “I promise.” She smiled at him when she saw the look in his eyes – the love and security that was his promise to her. His promise that he would always be there for her and protect her and love her. His promise that he would take care of Mina no matter what and that nothing and no one would ever hurt her. The promise she would hold on to when things got hard and she struggled to keep her promise.

- With All My Heart, Chapter Five

“Mhmm!” Molly moaned as she dropped her head back, still supporting herself on her elbows. “Oh god! Yes!” She laced her fingers through Sherlock’s curls as he buried his face between her legs. “Oh Sherlock…yes!” He picked his head up and smiled at her.

“If you aren’t quieter, you’re going to wake Mina.” He leaned back down and bit her thigh, making her whimper. He gave her a devilish grin and returned to his ministrations. Molly fell flat on her back, biting her lip hard as she tried to keep herself quiet. The more he worked at her center the louder her moans and whimpers grew.

He knew she was close by the way she wiggled and clenched around his fingers. She protested when his fingers and lips left her skin but Sherlock quickly settled above her and gripped her hips tightly.

“Please,” she begged and he drove into her, his mouth swallowing her gasp. Within minutes Sherlock had her on the edge and falling apart in his hands, followed shortly by his own release. They stayed intertwined as they caught their breath and their heart rates slowed. “I love you,” she said as she peppered his chest with her kisses.

“I love you too,” he whispered to her as he tucked her head under his chin and feel asleep.

“Here baby.” Molly set a plate in front of Mina who gladly dug in. “Who is taking you to school today?”

“Can daddy?” Mina asked around a large bite of food.

“If he ever gets out of bed…SHERLOCK!” Molly hollered.

“Minute!” His muffled voice floated down the stairs. Molly and Mina looked at each other, a knowing smile on each of their faces – Sherlock was never ready on time.

Molly made herself a cup of tea and grabbed herself a plate of food just as Sherlock came trotting down the stairs.

“Morning Munchkin,” he said and kissed Mina on the head. “Mhm,” he hummed as he kissed Molly. “You smell delicious,” he whispered, making Molly’s cheeks heat.

“Daddy, can you take me to school today?” Mina asked as he walked around the peninsula.

“Of course.” He looked at their plates and frowned. Molly smirked and pointed to the extra cuppa on the counter. “Thank you.”

“New case?” Molly asked, noticing his lowered appetite.

“A new…something.” Sherlock smirked and stole the extra piece of toast off of Mina’s plate.

“Daddy!” Mina chastised him as she tried to steal it back, her little arms stretching out. She quickly gave up and dissolved into a fit of giggles as he waved the toast in victory.

“John and Mary should be getting back today from their holiday, will you be dragging him along with you?”

“What am I without my blogger, Molly?” he asked in mock sincerity.

“What’s a blogger?” Mina wrinkled her nose.

“A very useful pet.” Sherlock winked at Mina and Molly rolled her eyes at him.

Molly was having a good day! A good week she should say! Sherlock had been very attentive to her needs the last three nights, Mina had been behaving even more so than usual, she had discovered two very interesting causes of death that morning alone, and her lab cultures were looking beautiful when she checked on them that afternoon! She was having a very good week indeed!

Until she was getting ready to go home.

“Molly!” Sherlock’s voice was urgent as he busted into the morgue.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she pulled him into her office.

“I…I need to ask something of you and you’re not going to like it.” He sat down and waited for her to do the same. He took her hands in his and held them, not looking at her.

“Sherlock, you’re scaring me,” she placed her hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “You know you can ask me anything.” Sherlock swallowed hard and nodded at her.

“Charles Augustus Magnussen….have you heard of him?”

“Of course, he owns several newspapers,” she replied.

“Magnussen is like a shark…it’s the only way I can describe him. Molly, he turns my stomach in no way anyone else that I have ever dealt with has.” His eyebrows were drawn together and his voice was hard.

“You’ve dealt with terrorists and serial killers…yet, you’re telling me that he is the worst?” she asked in an amused tone.

“Yes!” He squeezed her hands tightly. “This…I wouldn’t be asking you this if it wasn’t important.” She nodded her head in understanding. “Lady Smallwood has asked that I intercede for her with Magnussen. Now, Magnussen won’t make a deal with someone unless he has determined their weaknesses, their pressure point, as he calls it, and because I will be interceding for Lady Smallwood, he will try to find my pressure points.” Sherlock stopped talking abruptly. Molly’s head was spinning a bit as she fully digested his words.

“Mina and I,” she whispered. Sherlock closed his eyes tightly and exhaled slowly.

“Not unless I can convince him I have a stronger pressure point…something from my past.”

“No!” Molly pushed away from him and stood up. “No, Sherlock. You can’t!” Her voice echoed in her office.

“If I don’t, you and Willamina could be in danger.” He stood up and reached for her, but she batted his hands away, keeping him at a distance. “I won’t be getting high off of anything…I just have to make it look like I am, to spend time in those places again.”

“You’re an addict and I knew that coming into this relationship but you’ve been clean for almost two years now…why would you want to jeopardize that?” He reached for her again, this time she let him pull her against his chest. “Why?”

“Because you and Mina are my world and I can’t have you two in danger.” He tightened his hold on her.

“Have you and John talked about this? Doesn’t he have any other ideas?” she asked, looking up at him.

“I haven’t told John…no one can know else can know this is fake.” She pulled out of his arms, her anger rising again.

“You not only want me to let you go back into the drug den but you want me to lie to our friends about it?!” she shouted.

“Molly, please...keep your voice down.” He motioned towards her office door.

“I am not okay with this!” she said between clenched teeth. He sighed heavily and shook his head.

“I know…but I need to keep you two safe and this is the most plausible situation…given my background.” He held his hand out to her. “Please let me keep you safe.” She hesitated for a moment before taking his hand.

“Okay.”

Her mobile buzzed loudly on the bedside table. Molly groaned as she rolled over and grabbed it.

“’ello?” she mumbled.

“You need to meet us at the lab.”

“John?” She sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“You need to meet us at the lab…now.”

“Okay.” She swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood up. “I just need to get Mina around.”

“No, drop her off with Lestrade or Kathy if you can.”

“John what is this about?” she asked as she pulled on a pair of jeans.

“You’ll see when you get here.”

Molly gripped her purse tightly against her shoulder as she walked down the long hallway leading to the lab. She had tried to call Sherlock twice on the way over, but he hadn’t answered. He had been spending most of his free time the last month at Baker Street or anywhere else that wasn’t their home. Molly hadn’t liked the idea, but understood that if Magnussen knew where they lived, Mina could be in danger.

She pushed on the door of the lab, slowly, unsure of what to expect. She stepped inside and saw Mary wrapping some young man’s arm, he looked like a junkie. Next to her stood their neighbor, Isaac – Mary was always telling her how much trouble he was getting into.

Molly’s heart sunk when she made the connection between the two men Mary was dealing with. She turned and saw John, anger radiating off of him, and Sherlock, leaning on the counter, facing away from her.

“John?” Sherlock’s back stiffened when she spoke and she knew.

“You need to test him.” John pointed to the small jar on the counter. Molly dropped her purse on the counter and walked over to the equipment she would need. She pulled on her gloves and set to work, still hoping that she was wrong.

She wasn’t.

She snapped off her gloves and threw them on the table. She slowly walked in front of Sherlock, his eye’s finally meeting hers for the first time since she had gotten there.

“Molly, let me –”

She pulled her hand back and slapped him across his face. And then again. And again. Her whole body was shaking and she felt like she was going to explode.

“How dare you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “You promised me! You said that this was for our safety! YOU SAID IT WAS FAKE! THAT YOU WOULDN’T GET HIGH!”

“What? You knew!?” John stepped closer, interrupting.

“It’s for a case!” Sherlock groaned in frustration. “And yes, she knew!”

“No!” She looked at John. “What I knew was that he had to make it look like he was back on drugs…not that he would actually be doing them!” she yelled as she turned back to Sherlock.

“Molly, I swear to you that last night was the first time!” He quickly pulled up his sleeves as he talked. “I didn’t inject anything.”

“How does that make it better?” John demanded.

“Last night was the first time.” He grabbed Molly’s shoulders, bringing her eyes up to meet his. “I promise.”

“You’ve promised before.” She turned to John. “Can you take him back to Baker Street?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” She turned back to Sherlock and rested her shaking hand on his chest. “You can come home and see Mina once you’re clean.”

“Did you call my brother?!” Sherlock asked in a disgusted voice as he got out of the cab.

“I bloody well did!” John called as he paid the cabbie.

“He always fixes the damn knocker.” He moved the brash knocker off center and pushed the door open. He frowned when he saw Mycroft sitting on the steps, waiting for him.

“The siren call of old habits, I see.” Mycroft stood up. “How dare you do this to Molly!”

“Leave her out of this!” Sherlock growled.

“Fine…why don’t you save me a little time and tell me, where should we be looking?”

“We?” Sherlock asked in confusion.

“Mr. Holmes!” Anderson’s voice called from upstairs.

“Fucking hell, Mycroft!” Sherlock stomped past his brother and up the stairs. “Get out of my bloody flat Anderson!” he boomed as he burst into the kitchen.

“Sorry, Sherlock. It’s for your own good.” Anderson held his gloved hands up in protest.

“You’re a celebrity these days, Sherlock. You can’t afford a drug habit.” Mycroft looked at him pointedly.

“I do not have a drug habit…it was one hit…a mistake.” Sherlock could feel his head pounding as he talked. Too many people. He pulled his hood up and curled into his chair, laying his head on the arm rest.

“Must’ve been a rather large hit…” he heard John mumble.

“What have you found so far?” Mycroft asked Anderson.

“THERE’S NOTHING TO FIND!” Sherlock bellowed from his chair.

“Really? John informed me that your test was positive.” Mycroft turned on his heel as he talked.

Sherlock stood up abruptly, swaying a little on his feet.

“This is not what you think, this is for a case,” he said as calmly as he could.

“What case could possible justify this?” Mycroft wrinkled his nose in frustration.

“Magnussen.”

Mycroft turned to Anderson.

“Get out now and never mention that you heard that name in this room.” He waited until Anderson had closed the door behind him before turning back to Sherlock. “Magnussen is not your business, Sherlock. He is not to be messed with.”

“He’s even pulling your strings!” Sherlock said in disgust.

“You don’t know what you’re doing…you’re going to get someone hurt.” Mycroft stared his brother down. Sherlock pressed his lips together and nodded his head.

“Well, I’ll let you know if I need a hand.” He swung around Mycroft and opened the door. “Bye-bye,” he said pointing to the hallway.

Mycroft sighed and turned for the door, but stopped.

“She deserves far better than you, brother-mine,” he whispered. Sherlock’s nostrils flared and he hooked his hand under Mycroft’s elbow, bending his arm behind his back and pushing him into the door frame.

“Brother-mine,” Sherlock took a shaky breath and pushed harder on Mycroft’s wrist, “don’t appall me when I’m high.”

“Let him go, Sherlock.” John stepped up to the pair and waited until Sherlock dropped his grip. “Mycroft, he’s hurt you before and right now, if you don’t go, I think he just might do it again.” Mycroft watched as Sherlock went back to the living room and sat down in his chair. “Just go.” He picked up his umbrella and left without another word. “Magnussen?” John asked as he turned to look at Sherlock.

“Yes.” Sherlock nodded and then looked to John’s seat. He sat down, gripping the arm rests.

“You say this is all for a case then?” He motioned to Sherlock’s disheveled appearance.

“I swear.”

John leaned forward and ran a hand over his face; it felt like it had been days ago that Isaac’s mum had knocked on his door. He looked at his friend and he could tell the high was wearing off – he looked even more ragged than when he had pulled him out of the drug den.

“Why?” he asked, leaning back.

“Magnussen!” Sherlock scoffed at him.

“No…why did you do it?”

Sherlock took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“The others, they were…they were getting suspicious because they hadn’t seen me getting high. When they offered it to me last night I knew I couldn’t refuse if I was going to convince the papers I had a drug habit.”

John gave a loud huff and clasped his hands on his knees.

“You are lucky that Molly is a fucking saint and didn’t break off your engagement right then and there.”

“I know,” Sherlock whispered.

#kate writes #sherlolly #there is a short love scene at the very beginning of the chapter #but nothing else after that #for those of you who don't like that sort of this the rest of the chapter is safe!

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talesfromthefreezerinmymind · 4 years ago

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The Adventure of the Accidental Client

On this day in 1859 (May 22) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of Sherlock Holmes, was born.

May is also Mental Health Awareness month.

What do these two things have in common? For me, quite a lot. I’ll start this story in early 2012.

At that time I was a freshman at Maryville College, in my second semester of majoring in graphic design. I was completely miserable.

Why was I miserable, exactly? Well…

I had no friends (turns out, I had never learned how to make them)

I doubted that graphic design was the career for me (Imposter Syndrome vibes)

I was homesick (even though I went home every single weekend)

I phoned my parents every night and told them about my day. During one such call, my dad told me about a show on Netflix that he’d started watching: Sherlock. It was made by some of the same people that made another favorite of ours, Doctor Who. I was intrigued, and had plenty of time on my hands, so I thought I’d give it a try.

If you know nothing of Sherlock Holmes (as I did when I first started watching the show), he’s a famous English detective residing in 221B Baker Street created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson solves mysteries in the late 1800s and early 1900s. But for Sherlock, the adventures are set in the modern day. Over the course of a week or so, I watched the whole first season. Normally I’m slow to warm up to things, but I was instantly hooked.

I kept watching the show. I read interviews with the cast and crew. I found a fan-run website with all sorts of lovely info. I discovered Tumblr and all the fandom madness that lives there. The second season had already premiered in the UK, and I dredged up info on it (and spoiled it for myself). I started reading the original novels and short stories that the show was based on. I read everything Sherlock Holmes in about 5 months. And then started reading it over again.

Sherlock had found me at just the right moment. I was unusually lonely. I was unusually bored. I saw myself in John Watson; a directionless man in need of a purpose. A deeply loyal man, without a friend to adhere to. I saw myself in Sherlock Holmes; a man whose mind is always running, who loves feeling clever and in control. A man for whom feeling like an outsider is normal, though not always welcome. In the words of John Watson, “I naturally gravitated to London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers are irresistibility drained.” I was a lounger, an idler, and London had found me.

The Sherlock Holmes stories rekindled my love of reading, which had been dormant for a few years, and sparked a much more serious interest in writing. There was just something about how Doyle went from unknown medical man to literary giant that grabbed my attention. He started in one world and ended up in another. It got me thinking that perhaps though I began in graphic design, I could end up somewhere else: a published author myself. So I wrote more. And I read more. I changed my major in the Spring of 2013 to English with a concentration in Creative Writing (Oh, and I transferred to UT in the fall of 2012. I had to get away from Maryville. Fresh start. Sorta). In 2015, right after graduating UT, I joined an organization called the Society of Children's Books Writers and Illustrators. Long story short, in April 2016 I signed the contract for Roof Octopus, my first picture book.

Sadly, though, writing doesn’t pay much when you’re first starting out so I really did need a backup career for the moment. Fall 2015 I enrolled at Pellissippi State Community College (backtracking, I know, per the usual order of things) and began earning an associate’s in graphic design.

Though by this point I was far removed from my freshman year at Maryville, I still felt all the loneliness and failure that I had felt then (and I was still fanatical about Sherlock; third season came out in 2014). Honestly, I had been feeling watered-down versions of those emotions since my junior year of high school (that’s another story for another time). Plus, there was something else that I was carrying that was growing heavier over time: an addiction to daydreaming.

An addiction to daydreaming? Is that even possible? Well, it is possible. It even has a fancy name: Maladaptive Daydreaming Disorder (MDD). It’s when a person’s habit of daydreaming is so obsessive that it interferes with everyday life. I would describe it like there’s a TV on in my head all day. It places my favorite shows, lots of reruns but new stuff, too. Your daydreams are like movies that you write and direct and star in and you can’t get enough. Part of the time they are white noise and I can ignore it. But more often than not, all I want to do is sit and watch. I have trouble focusing on what I’m reading or writing. I zone out super easily while listening to music or podcasts. I have trouble falling asleep for my mind not “turning off”. I zone out in class, at meetings, at church, and in groups of people when no one is talking directly to me. I daydream while driving and running and showering and cleaning and swimming and biking and just walking through my house. I’ve been struggling to focus while writing all this out; I’d rather daydream about writing this than actually do it. (Fun Fact: A big part of my daydreaming is I like to talk aloud while I’m doing it if I’m alone. On second thought, that’s probably more of an embarrassing fact than fun…)

People with MDD aren’t crazy; they don’t hear voices in their head or think people are around who really aren't there. They are fully aware that their daydream worlds aren’t real. But for some people MDD is so severe that they don’t leave their homes for days; they stay in and daydream their life away. Luckily, my MDD is not that severe. Often MDD is used as a coping mechanism. Even though I’ve never experience trauma like some people have, I still really crave an escape from life and all the emotions brought on by it.

I had never heard of Maladaptive Daydreaming Disorder until one day in the summer of 2016; I googled for ways to quit daydreaming and stuff about MDD was in the results. Up to this point I’d slowly been growing tired of my daydreaming. I’d always had an active imagination. Played pretend a lot as a kid, had imaginary friends. But in college it started to get out of hand. Particularly falling asleep was a struggle, or if I woke up super early, falling back asleep. It took me ages sometimes to write a paper or read through something. However, I had so much time on my hands that it didn’t really matter how much I procrastinated. (While at UT and Pellissippi, I still didn’t try to make friends.) I didn’t talk too much to anyone about how much I hated college. About how alone I was. I’m a Christian, but I didn’t pray about any of it. I didn’t talk about all the ways that I felt like a failure. I bottled it all up inside, because that’s what Sherlock did. Sherlock was a loner, who was never a failure. Emotions were for other people. He was too smart for them. Sherlock never seemed to let loneliness get to him, and I wasn’t going to let it either.

Anyway, the more I learned about MDD the more I was convinced that I had it. The most important thing that I learned about MDD was that people who struggled with it could get help. Therapy and medication (like antidepressants) had helped other people get control of their life once again. In the back of my mind, I began to wonder: I had been using MDD to help cope with life, but now did I need help coping with MDD? Nevertheless, true to my never-bare-my-soul nature, I shared these discoveries and questions with absolutely no one.

I kept on keeping on. Finished a year at Pellissippi (still worried about whether or not I could make it as a graphic designer). Signed that book contract. Stayed close (as close as you can be without spilling your guts) to my friends at home, who I usually had to make an effort to see (something I really missed from the good old days pre-college). Tried (and failed) not to freak out as some of those friends got married and/or moved off. Who needs friends anyway, right? They’ll just ditch you eventually; no one’s as loyal as John Watson. I daydreamed too much. I wrote and wrote. I worked at Cove Lake State Park in the summer. I started a second year at Pellissippi.

Then one night in December 2016, I stayed the night at my Nannie’s. After I went to bed, I, per usual, had a horrible time falling sleep. I laid awake for hours, but eventually drifted off.

The next day when I came home, my mom asked me if I had slept well.

That was all the provoking that I needed. I broke down and cried. I told her that I could hardly ever sleep because my mind would not turn off. My daydreaming had become too much. Once it had been my rescue, my escape from everyday life, but now I felt like I was going mad.

My parents talked it over together and decided that I should see someone professional. My mom made me an appointment at a counseling office. On December 20, 2016, I had my first meeting with my therapist.

It was rather surreal. In the first season of Sherlock, John sees a therapist because he’s trying to deal with returning home from war. In January 2017, just mere weeks after my first appointment, the fourth season of Sherlock aired. In in the first episode, Sherlock (spoiler) himself pays a visit to John’s therapist. Sherlock actually needs help and he’s actually asking for. And I had just done the same thing. Life is funny like that sometimes.

Over the last 3+ years my therapist has helped me understand a lot about myself. Anxiety has been present in my life for several years now. Talking to people I don’t know, and even people that I do know, often gives me some level of anxiety. I’m always worrying if I sound weird or dumb or boring. I never know what to talk about. Therapy has helped me build up my confidence so it’s much easier for me to talk to others now. Am I still an introvert? Oh, yes. Can I carry on a conversation with someone I just meet? Yeah. Do I always want to? No, not really. But I’m much more willing to try it now.

I’ve always hated change, good or bad. Watching friends grow up and reach life milestones (marriage, kids, dream job) all while I changed majors, changed jobs, and had little luck in the dating realm was (and still is) rough. Therapy has helped me be a little more okay with changes in my life. I’m not so scared of the future as I once was.

I prefer to keep to myself. I’m a perfectionist and a control freak. I hate asking for help. I always feel like an oddball, even among my close friends. I love feeling clever. I hate feeling like a failure. I hate change.

I am Sherlock Holmes.

Therapy keeps me in check. Keeps from going over the edge. Helps me understand myself, the world around me, and those in it. It helps me become a better version of myself.

Therapy is my John Watson.

I don’t know what would have happened to me had I not discovered Sherlock when I did. I do believe that God knows exactly what types of things would catch my attention (i.e. mysteries and best friend adventures) and perhaps that’s why and how things turned out the way they did. He is the Great Author, after all. I am thankful that He loved me even through the times that I was not a fan of myself, running and hiding from everyone, including Him.

I’ve told this story today because (1) I love telling stories. It’s why I write. It’s why I read. Heck, it’s why I’m addicted to daydreaming. Yep, I still daydream quite a lot, but I feel in control of it now. I’ve been taking an antidepressant for about two years now and that has helped with the daydreaming and my overall mood, too. I’ve also told this story today because (2) stories can save us. Sherlock Holmes saved me. I was a lounger, an idler, who wandered into 221B Baker Street in need of a mystery solved. What was happening to Lucy Branam? Can she be saved? Sherlock was just the detective for the job.

Happy 161st birthday, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Thank you for writing.

#sherlock #bbc sherlock #mental health #therapy #maladaptive daydreaming #mdd #anxienty

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