#greg lestrade one shot

[helloliriels]

A MASTERLIST of this years FANDOM TRUMPS HATE 2024 works for our community: BBC Sherlock, Johnlock, and Mystrade! a.k.a. things I wanna check out (and don't wanna lose track of!)

🌹 Unremarkable by discordantwords for Podfixx :: It's an unremarkable day. John has a date. Sherlock has a case. And Mycroft & Rosie have just been shoved into the boot of a car.

🌹 Open Line by anyawen for sherlockian4ever :: Greg & Mycroft have front row seats to a spat between Sherlock and John.

🌹 There's Nothing in the Rulebook by avalanching_effect for bluebellofbakerstreet :: In which Lestrade rolls with the punches, Sherlock's body betrays him, and John is completely normal :)

🌹 Mimetidae by avalanching_effect for 796116311389 :: Magic has to make everything so complicated, doesn't it?

🌹Another Fortnight Lost in America by Biana_Amberly_Vacker for Silvergirl :: Sherlock gets offered a New York City vacation by a wealthy client. John thinks he's hiding something more, though.

🌹 The Disappointed Optimist's Guide to Sharing a Flat with a Madman by Calais_Reno for LHR_etc :: John Watson has a bit of luck when he meets Victor Trevor. Taking over his lease.

🌹 You Don't Live Here Anymore by elwinglyre for Jim88 :: Sherlock leaves 221b because he can’t bring himself to live there alone without John. Post-S4 Mary death.

🌹 In the Arms of the Ocean by standbygo for Silvergirl :: Sherlock and John are gifted an Atlantic cruise. Will either one of them finally get their heads out of the sand?

🌹 John Watsons Big Adventure by mydogwatson for Silvergirl :: There is a wedding in his future, but John Watson wants to have an adventure first. He gets his wish, but will he survive it?

🌹 The Part of You that Stays by holmesian_love & Accident for helloliriels :: Sherlock comes home a broken man and after serving as John’s best man, seemingly has a mental breakdown.

🌹 Cover for The Murder of Sir Emory J. Amat [Art] by bluebellofbakerstreet for ChrisCalledMeSweetie :: inspired by the fic. also

🌹 [Podfic] The Murder of Sir Emory J. Amat by semperfiona_podfic for ChrisCalledMeSweetie :: a podfic audio recording of the fic!

🌹Show Me Your Flaws by holmesianlove for Lock_John_Silver :: A talented stranger crosses his path and suddenly life isn’t boring. But how can John win over someone like that, when he's so flawed?

🌹A Minor Detail by meetinginsamarra for Katiegee444 :: Sherlock has found the perfect flatmate for sharing 221b Baker Street. If only there were not that minor detail in the small print of the lease ...

🌹Wasteland, Baby by LoloLolly for ShakespearelovedLadyMacbeth :: Things hadn’t felt right in 221B since John and Rosie moved back in. If only Sherlock knew it was about to get worse ...

🌹Scheherazade of the Thrift Shop by standbygo for thegildedbee :: Sherlock, cut off by Scotland Yard and desperate for something to do, decides to try deducing in a thrift shop.

🌹 Meet Ugly by jrow for 72reasons :: One encounter with a gorgeous madman is a good story. Twice is crazy coincidence. Three times might just be fate.

🌹 Cover for The Murder of Major Sayer [Art] by bluebellofbakerstreet for ChrisCalledMeSweetie :: inspired by the fic

🌹 The Mile High Club by elwinglyre for Silvergirl :: All they wanted was to get married without a fuss. Sherlock has more on his mind.

🌹 Johnlock on Holiday [Banner Edit] by a-victorian-girl for Silvergirl :: for the collection of FTH 2024 fics Silver prompted!

🌹 A Magical Holiday by PipMer for Silvergirl :: He had wanted to wait until after the new year, but it seems John needs a pick-me-up.

🌹 Never Trust to General Impressions [Cover Art] by helloliriels for thetimemoves :: a.k.a. Never Judge A Book By Its Cover (unless its cover is smexy)

🌹 What if John never disposed of the gun he shot the cabbie with? by safedistancefrombeingsmart for khorazir :: a story told in GIFs.

🌹 Shadows of the Fallen Oak by sherlockian4ever for luckettey :: Rosie Watson is kidnapped by a vengeful criminal from Sherlock's past. Their rescue mission tests their bond and reaffirms their love.

🌹 Always a Soldier by Lock_John_Silver for Silvergirl :: Mycroft arrives at Baker Street with disturbing news Sherlock can’t ignore.

🌹 The Cavern by elwinglyre for Katiegee444 :: Sherlock doesn’t believe in magic, he believes in making rock & roll history. His best chance is with John's band.

🌹 Full of Life and Full of Love by anyawen for ChrisCalledMeSweetie :: She watches over them. Still.

🌹 Bloods Tracks & Love Attacks by topsyturvy_turtley for Katiegee444 :: Six people enter a chairlift at the bottom of the mountain. Only five arrive at the top. All of them dead. Casefic.

🌹 Confirmation Bias by thalialunacy for Silvergirl :: A casefic featuring Harry Watson, knights, con men, and body farms.

🌹 Fan Edits for The Secret Writer by emilycare for Lock_John_Silver :: This is a collection of edits inspired by the story.

🌹 The Pillar Upon Which England Rests [Art] by khorazir for thetimemoves :: based on the fic by discordantwords.

🌹 36 Views of London by helloliriels for thegildedbee :: A patchwork image of John & Sherlock’s London, as seen through their eyes.

🌹 and back again by anyawen for helloliriels :: a book familiar and meaningful to both men offers guidance and hope.

🌹 Take My Hand by her_ladyships_soap for Mouse9 :: A tale of closeness, moving fwd, and finding comfort in unexpected places.

🌹 Minuit te va si bienby fireandhoney a translation for ChrisCalledMeSweetie

🌹 The Case of the Missing Patty-Pan by ChrisCalledMeSweetie for chainedtothemirror :: When Mrs. Hudson invites Sherlock to tea, his own cleverness gets him in trouble. Fortunately, Dr. Watson is eager to come to his rescue.

🌹 Every Song Reminds Me of You by ChrisCalledMeSweetie for alexxphoenix42 :: Music hath charms to help John acknowledge his feelings for Sherlock.

🌹 The Campari by CorvidCordelia for Silvergirl :: Technically, it’s a forced vacation for Sherlock, but when wouldn’t it be?

🌹 Sleeping Irene by Khorazir for ChrisCalledMeSweetie :: Cover for the wonderful fairy tale inspired fic

🌹 Pretty in (A Frankly Alarming Shade of) Pink by helloliriels for thetimemoves :: a Rock Out edit prompt from 80's album.

🌹 Every Song Reminds Me of You [Cover Edit] by a-victorian-girl for ChrisCalledMeSweetie :: for the fic of the same name!

🌹 What If I'm Not? [GIF] set by safedistancefrombeingsmart for helloliriels :: Johnlock :: for the fic of the same name.

🌹 No Going Home by emilycare for 13Monkton :: When Sherlock dies ... What if instead of John moving on, they both realized what they meant to one another when he returns?

🌹 Through The Rain by Snowfilly1 for Raechem :: A missing person from John’s past sends Mycroft and Greg on an investigation to Dartmoor.

🌹 Where It Is Always 1670 by Iwantthatcoat for khorazir :: Sherlock and John go on a diplomatic mission away from the heart of London to a little village called Adamczycha. The year is 1670.

🌹 The Red-Headed League by JRow for bluebellofbakerstreet :: Can Sherlock figure out what Rosie's teacher is involved in? And can he prevent the inevitable, namely Ms. Shea falling in love with John?

🌹 FTH2024 Artwork for A Case of You by Silvergirl by DemonicAngeling for Silvergirl :: Inspired by the fic

🌹 The Missing Half by aquileaofthelonelymountain for reveling_in_mayhem :: It was a fancy box of chocolates, the kind you didn’t get in supermarkets ... “So”, Greg said cheerfully, “you’ve got a secret admirer, then?”

🌹 Momentary by BlueMoononTheRise for StellaCartography :: Greg Lestrade has just been diagnosed with cancer. Unable to come to terms with the reality, he decides to go on a trans-Canada roadtrip.

🌹 The Beginning of Always by mydogwatson for thegildedbee :: John Watson wants to be a doctor. Sherlock Holmes wants to be a consulting detective. Most of all, they both want to be loved.

🌹 Handbook for Unrequited Love by Bluebuell33 for holmesianlove :: Life was one cruel joke after another for John. Mary lied and left him. Sherlock wanted nothing to do with him. How had his life ended up here?

🌹 John Watson and the Tale of the Bloody Finger by ChrisCalledMeSweetie for PatPrecieux :: A childhood tale comes back to haunt John.

🌹 An Ounce of Cure by BakerTumblings for safedistancefrombeingsmart :: When John needs elective surgery, Sherlock isn't at all thrilled about it. And when it doesn't go as planned. John finds himself fighting for his life.

🌹 Life finds a way. by Bluebuell33 for felinefemme :: Anthea convinces newly retired Mycroft that he needs a pet for his quiet cottage life. He comes home with more then a new cat. <3

🌹 The Rescuing by BakerTumblings for Podfixx :: Sherlock, off in Serbia, has been captured and severely injured. Mycroft recruits John to aid with freeing him and then overseeing his recovery.

🌹 A Gentleman's Agreement by Peanitbear for Enterthetadpole :: Sherlock is an alpha that doesn't want an omega. John is an omega that doesn't want an alpha.

🌹 Cover for My Pictures of You by bluebellofbakerstreet for 72reasons :: inspired by the fic.

🌹 The Murder of Sir Emory J. Amat by ChrisCalledMeSweetie for PatPrecieux :: A Sherlock Holmes mystery, as recounted by Dr. John H. Watson. Can you follow the clues to deduce whodunnit?

🌹 The Light Gets In by Raina_at for Besotted08 :: John comes back to Baker Street on a rainy Wednesday in January. He wants to feel whole again. Maybe that’s not achievable. But fuck, he wants to try.

Posting here, as not all of them yet appear in the FTH 2024 collection on Ao3, but I knew they existed! *whew*. Please let me know if I missed any???

Glad to see I wasnt the only procrasti-writer this year! (my first year offering fic) and so proud of those of you who made it to the finish line and HOLY mother of fandom those of you that wrote more than one!!! (bowing lowly to the floor). Writing for FTH made me more in love with those of you who do this every year. It's a brilliant challenge and all for charity!

[calaisreno]

Loyal, So Quickly

Greg and Mycroft have another chat. See An Arrangement.

560 words / Prompt: Intimidate

Mycroft Holmes doesn’t do things like other people, Greg realises. Where another man would text or call, ask to meet for coffee, Holmes kidnaps people. 

Not exactly kidnapping, but it’s a bit intimidating to be followed by a black car, invited in by a beautiful woman who does not smile. Maybe that’s a condition of working for the man: no smiling allowed. 

“I assume you’ve met my brother’s flatmate,” Mycroft begins without preamble.

“John Watson,” Greg replies. “Yeah, I’ve met him.”

“What do you think of him?”

“Seems like a good bloke. I mean, I think he’s trustworthy.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I can see he has a steadying effect on your brother. He keeps Sherlock’s attitude in check at a crime scene.”

Holmes seems to be making a mental note of this. “How much does Watson know about my brother’s habit?”

“When he found out about the drugs, I could see he was surprised. It didn’t take the world’s only consulting detective to see that he won’t tolerate that. Now that he’s aware, he’ll have an eye out for it. A doctor’s eye. Sherlock’s not going to jeopardise their relationship, though.”

“And what relationship is that?” The grey eyes narrow. 

“Your brother doesn’t have friends, Mr Holmes. Even me—he doesn’t consider me a friend. I’m just DI Lestrade, the person who supplies cases and needs Sherlock Holmes to solve them for me. We don’t hang out, have a pint and discuss the footy. We’re colleagues, I suppose.”

“You’re suggesting that he considers Doctor Watson… a friend?”

“I don’t know. Never seen him with a friend, so I’m not sure what that would look like.”

“And what about Watson?”

Greg remembers after the cabbie was shot, talking with Sherlock, who was wound up, talking a mile a minute, describing a man with a strong moral principle, a crack shot, a fighter. He’d noticed Watson standing behind the tape, waiting for Sherlock, looking innocuous. And he’d realised. Sherlock himself hadn’t realised until a moment later, when he begged Lestrade ignore me. 

He felt a bit proud, seeing something Sherlock hadn’t seen. So he watched, and saw more. Sherlock, walking towards Watson, Watson looking at him. They exchanged a smile and a few words, and he knew. 

He didn’t know Watson well yet, but he’d worked with Sherlock for a few years, and had never seen him look at another person like that. Admiration. Longing.

And then there’s the unsolved murder of Jeff Hope. Well, that bullet anyway. The man died of an aneurysm, but technically it could be murder, if the gunshot was what set things off. Not that he’s going to share his suspicions about that with the elder Holmes. No point setting up Watson for another interview. Though he’s sure that if anyone can stand up to Mycroft Holmes, it’s John Watson.

The look on Watson’s face. 

I think he would kill for Sherlock. I think he would die for him.

“He’s a loyal one. You can trust him. He won’t leave.”

Holmes is quiet for a long moment. Then he nods. “I hope you’re right. I think he could be the making of my brother. Or he could make him much worse. Either way, I will be watching.”

His smile reminds Greg that he’s not the only one likely to be followed by a black sedan.

--

I'm posting my #mayprompts2024 here on AO3 and in this collection. Please add yours!

[lilmoonbunny]

First Kisses; BBC Sherlock

Includes: Sherlock, John, Mycroft, Lestrade, and Moriarty.

Sherlock:

It wasn’t rare for Sherlock to come out with the strangest things, but there were times when his requests were so unexpected that one would choke.

“I need to test out a theory,” Sherlock broke the silence between himself and Y/N one day.

“…Okay?” Y/N replied simply, preparing to tell Sherlock that he can’t put a head in the microwave again.

“I require your help.”

That was odd, he rarely ever trusted someone else to help him with an experiment, not even John.

With a raised eyebrow, she responded. “How so?”

“You need to kiss me.” Whilst his words were as blunt as always, Y/N couldn’t help the way that she choked in surprise, all whilst he rolled his eyes. “It is not that serious, Y/N. I simply need to see if it solves these thoughts.”

“These thoughts?” Came her confused response, watching him as he walked towards her seat on the chair opposite him.

“That is what I said, yes. Do keep up.”

Rolling her own eyes, she stared up at the detective who had an impatient look on his face.

“I mean, okay? If that’s what you want.” He smirked slightly at her attempt to seem nonchalant at his request; he didn’t expect her to actually do it.

“I just need to see if t-“He began speaking, only to have his sentence cut short by her lips pressing against his own.

Sherlock’s eyes widened as her hand gently gripped his cheek as kissed him. He was frozen in place, heart racing, and chest heaving once she pulled away.

“Did that help?” She asked, looking up at the startled and silent man as she seated herself back where she was previously. She waited for a few more moments to see if he would respond before giving up. “Anyway, I need to get going. Tell John I said hello whenever he returns.” Y/N said as she reached the door, Sherlock still frozen in place, at least, until the door clicked, and he snapped out of his haze.

“Hey, Y/N, wait!”

John:

Despite his initial dislike for the youngest Holmes sibling, John couldn’t deny the feelings that he had grown for Y/N Holmes over the past few months. It was obvious to everyone besides the woman herself who was, unlike her brothers, oblivious to any and every sign of affection towards her.

It was just the two of them in 221B going through the latest case files whilst Sherlock attended a crime scene. He had originally asked John to accompany him, but the man refused after realising that Y/N was remaining at the flat, something at which Sherlock simply rolled his eyes, having already deduced his friends crush on his sister long before he even knew himself.

It was a trickier case than usual, hence why Sherlock had to return to the crime scene, leaving John and Y/N to search through mountains of files looking for one specific word.

“This would be so much easier if these files were all on a computer.” Y/N yawned, flipping the page over to the other side, John doing the same.

“Agreed.”

“Wait, this might be what we’re looking for!” The woman shot up onto her feet in excitement, turning the paper towards John and pointing at what she was looking at with a smile which was soon returned as he agreed.

In excitement, Y/N’s arms wrapped around John, and she pulled him in for a hug, only to pull away once she realised what she had done.

“I’m so sor-“ she began, only to be silenced by John wrapping his hand around the back of her neck and pulling her into him for a moment, lips pressed against each other.

“Finally,” a deep voice sounded from the doorway, making the pair pull back away from each other in both shock and embarrassment. “Now if you two lovebirds are quite finished, what have you found?”

Lestrade:

It was odd for Greg to enjoy working with Sherlock.

Whilst he didn’t mind John’s company, Sherlock was an absolute nightmare, but their friend on the other hand, Y/N, she was wonderful and Lestrade could not get enough of her.

She was everything that Sherlock wasn’t. Kind, sweet, funny, genuine, and it came as no shock to him, or anyone else for that matter, when he began developing feelings for her. However, despite how obviously reciprocated his feelings were, the man refused to believe that she could ever like him back, even after Sherlock himself told him that she likes him too.

The two had become fast friends, having clicked as soon as they met, and a friendship with Lestrade meant coffee. All the time. Coffee was his favourite time of the day, especially if there were doughnuts involved.

“Your coffee is in the kitchen.” Y/N called as Greg let himself into her apartment, a common occurrence amongst the two, and he shot her a thumbs-up as he passed her to grab his drink.

“Thank you very much.” He grinned, taking a seat beside her on the sofa and turning his attention to the football for a moment. He knew she had no interest in the game, so why she had agreed to watch it with him, he didn’t know.

“It’s no problem, Greggy.” She teased him with the new nickname, one that always earned a blush from the older man.

“Do you have to call me that?” He muttered, both his cheeks and ears tinted red in embarrassment.

“Yep!” She smiled, pinching his cheek as he continued to stare at her, or, more specifically, her lips as she licked them.

He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but he couldn’t resist. He leaned over, his hand resting on top of hers, and pressed his lips against hers, something which she gladly reciprocated.

In his panic, he abruptly pulled back before registering that she had returned his kiss and began rushing out apologies.

“I’m so so sorry, oh my God, I should definitely not have done that. I am so sorry!” He rambled, previous blush darkening as she pushed himself to the other side of the sofa, disgusted with himself.

“Greg.”

“If you don’t ever want to talk to me again, I get i-“

“Greg.” Y/N repeated his name to try and catch his attention.

“I’m just so-“

Sick of his unnecessary apologies, the woman reached out to grasp the fabric of Lestrade’s shirt, pulling his lips back onto hers, her other hand landing on his shoulder.

“There’s no need to apologise.” She whispered against his lips as she pulled back. “I wanted that.”

Greg, too confused and happy to even register what she was saying, just listened to his brain go oh!

Mycroft:

Mycroft Holmes had two soft spots, his brother and Y/N, the latter being one that he was unwilling to admit to himself, let alone anybody else.

“Morning, Mycroft,” Y/N greeted him as he entered the café, one which he was a regular at; only for her, of course, but she could never know that.

“Good morning, Y/N,” came his simple response as she brought him his usually coffee, having already anticipated his arrival; he was nothing if not punctual, after all.

Neither of you knew how your friendship had evolved into him driving you home once you finished work, but there was never a single complaint heard about it. The moment you ended up at his home, however, that was when something shifted.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, just… odd. Having never been this close to someone besides his younger brother, Mycroft wasn’t entirely sure how to act, especially when the tension in the room reached its peak and your lips ended up pressed up against the others.

It was awkward, as to be expected considering that the older Holmes had never kissed anybody before. However, the awkwardness had its own charm about it, especially when he pulled away with flushed cheeks and immediately changed the subject, ignoring what had just happened for his own peace of mind.

“Should we like, I don’t know, talk about it?” You asked him the next time he entered the café, watching him closely for any sort of reaction.

“Talk about what? Nothing weird has happened recently, nothing at all. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Mycroft rushed out, desperately praying that you were oblivious to the shade of pink that now covered his cheeks.

He had no idea how it even happened, it just… did. Myrcroft was never one for affection, or even friendships, so he didn’t know why he kissed you and even worse for him, he didn’t know why he wanted to do it again.

“If you say so,” you chuckled at his embarrassed demeanour. “Either way, I finish in an hour if you like, wanted to go for dinner or something.”

Maybe he would wait around an hour, not for any specific reason. After all, nothing weird had happened.

Moriarty:

For as long as they had worked together, Y/N and Jim had always flirted with each other.

It started off small, almost unrecognisable, but gradually grew into full-blown flirtations with invitations that were never accepted. Co-workers turned into friends, and a friendship turned into longing, it was just how the cookie crumbled.

The two stared across at one another, Y/N pushing a plate of food in front of the criminal. “Eat it, or I’ll shove it down your throat, do not test me.” She warned, although there no malice in her voice; she just wanted him to eat something for the first time in a few days.

“Do I have to?” He pouted like a young child, earning a giggle from Y/N.

“Yes!” She laughed, leaning in closer. “Or I’ll force feed you it.”

“With your mouth, I hope.”

A blush dusted the woman’s cheeks as an idea formed in her mind, one which would solve many problems, including his refusal to eat.

As she leaned in closer, Moriarty couldn’t resist the joke falling from his lips. “Ohh, are we about to kiss right now?” His words were teasing, he didn’t actually expect her to do so, but as she leaned in and pressed her lips against his, he couldn’t stop his eyes from widening.

Despite his initial shock, he was quick to respond to the kiss, his hands moving to cup her cheeks and pull her closer into him, deepening the kiss whilst one of Y/N’s hands moved to his shoulder and the other to his neck.

“I suppose we are,” were the only words spoken with a cheeky smile before she pulled him back in for a kiss to shut him up.

[starkraivennemad]

Maybe One More...

“Okay, I think we’re good -that’s a wrap.” Gary lowered his camera. “We got some really great shots here!”

“Awww, not quite ready to give them up yet.” Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade mock pouted. “You guys don’t want to leave yet, do you?”

It was time for the annual New Scotland Yard Calendar photo shoot and the large room usually used for press conferences was turned into a makeshift studio. Several of NSY’s more visually appealing coppers were selected for the shoot. Though in Greg’s case, it was more of an order from his higher ups.

He had been on the telly several times in the past year having solved four high-profile cases -and three without Sherlock’s help. Each time he appeared, the emails and comment boards of NSY’s social media would go through an embarrassing uptick in volume for the several inquiries wanting, aka thirsting, after NSY’s silver fox. Greg relented telling himself it was for charity, but what really got him in the room was learning the charity for the year: Battersea Dogs and Cats Home.

A fake police line-up wall was the backdrop, and Greg sat on the mock studio floor playing with the most adorable of suspects: puppies! He was simply having a fun time with them, lamenting how the insane hours of work and his lifestyle really did not lend to keeping any pet as much as he would love to have a canine companion.

“If you want more time with them, we can get a few more shots, but you know what that means D.I. Lestrade…” Gary cajoled.

Gary was able to get Greg to pose with his shirt fully open exposing his torso. He even got him to pose with a shoulder and arm partially exposed. Even though the other eleven officers had little problem with it, what Gary could not do was get Greg to take his shirt off altogether.

Thus, Gary threw down the gauntlet: if Greg wanted more fun time with the puppies it had to be shirtless.

Greg was about to give up his puppy time when Sgt. Nicholas, who had been teasing a reticent Greg looked over in a corner. “Was that corner camera always facing this way?”

Greg froze. He played with a puppy, lifting it to hide how he slowly turned his head to look at the camera indicated. Greg was the last model. He knew the camera was not facing the set, while the others were there, he had checked. “Hmm, the cleaning people likely shifted it again. We can have security take a look when we’re done here.”

“I’ll do that.” Sgt. Nicholas nodded, “Are we done?”

Greg stood, “I swear. The things I do for charity.”

“And puppies!” Sgt. Nicholas laughed.

Seeing Greg remove his cuff links, Gary grinned getting his camera ready. “And what do you think you're doing?”

Biting his lip to hide his own grin, Greg slowly took off his shirt to cheers and cat calls.

“Maybe one more.”

“You’re going to be late for your meeting with the PM sir.”

Not that far away a certain occupant of a minor office in British government stood, about to close the browser window to the camera facing a certain detective inspector.

“In a minute, Anthea.”

Then his husband, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade stood and began to take his shirt off.

Mycroft Holmes fell back into his seat.

“Maybe one more.”

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

Read/Comment of AO3

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Chasing Ataraxia

Always in motion, if not physically then mentally, the latter sometimes being more exhausting than the former. His brain never rested, and it made him frantically tug at his curls in despair before seeking out Mycroft and later Victor. Both were able to distract him and his thoughts that were whirling around in circles, making him dizzy. 

Mycroft wasn’t exactly the physical type and encouraged Sherlock to use his brain by solving puzzles. Oddly enough, that calmed him because his thoughts were focused on one matter instead of creating chaos, firing all sorts of information at him in a constant loop.

Victor took him on adventures with their wooden swords and tricorn hats, playing pirates at the shore of the lake. Sherlock was happy and free in those moments, laughing heartily, his brain occupied with finding hidden treasures and chase the invisible enemy. 

***

The six-year-old boys cried in each other’s arms the day before Victor’s departure to Canada. 

“Why can’t you stay with me?” Sherlock wailed. “We have a big house. You can sleep in my room. There’s space for you there.”

“I want to, Lock, but I can’t. Perhaps you can come visit?” Victor said while stroking Sherlock’s hair. 

Sherlock looked at Victor with red-rimmed eyes and hope rose in him. 

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “I will. Promise.”

Sherlock’s hopes were shattered by Mycroft. 

“Canada is far away, Sherlock. It’s better that you realise now that it’ll be difficult to travel that far, than to keep your hopes up. I’m sorry, brother mine,” Mycroft murmured when Sherlock threw himself into his arms and cried until his throat was sore.

***

“I’m going to find a new friend,” Sherlock stated when school started again.

“Be careful, Sherlock,” Mycroft warned him. “Not everyone is like Victor.”

As always, Mycroft was right. Sherlock was a passionate boy; it was all or nothing. When he got older Sherlock realised that his search to find another best friend and soulmate was a fool’s quest. 

In his Greek lessons at Cambridge, he read about Ataraxia, which was described as a kind of freedom from disturbance in the mind.

The phrase hit him like a fist to his solar plexus. That one word described just what he wanted to accomplish. He did sometimes manage to get the feeling from the drugs, but it lasted too short, and the aftermath was taxing. 

***

When Greg Lestrade decided to trust Sherlock, some of the excitement from his days with Victor came back. He got to chase visible enemies through a city he knew better than any cabbie, and his brain focused on puzzles. It was perfect except from one thing; he was alone on his adventures. Mycroft was no use anymore with his intricate government work, always too busy to pay his brother much attention.

Where can I find someone who’s willing to share this crazy life?

Sherlock knew he had built solid walls around himself. For protection against bullies, but he had a door in those walls. A door with a keyhole. 

When John Watson lent him his phone at Barts one of the last days of January, Sherlock gave him the key to that door when he asked him to meet him at Baker Street the next day. 

After John had tested the waters with him at Angelo’s, and later had shot that awful cabbie, Sherlock knew his search was over. 

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @safedistancefrombeingsmart @phoenix27884 @gregorovitchworld @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @raina-at @peanitbear @sabsi221b @a-victorian-girl

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello!

Do you have any "who hurt you" fics where john or sherlock goes completely scorched earth on anyone who hurts the other?

Thank you!!

Hey Nonny!

You know, I've been asked for similar-style fics a LOT this week, so my lazy arse decided to just scroll through my bookmarks because I don't have a list ready anyway, and pulled out the ones that I THINK have a similar premise :) Please note that it's been awhile since I've read these so I probably effed up a bit, hence the title I used for this list instead :P And apologies for the large chunk of FFNet fics.

As always, please add your own lists if you got them!

WHUMP WITH VENGEFUL / PANICKING / WORRIED PARTNER

See also:

John Whump with Guilty Sherlock

John Realizes How Important Sherlock is To Him

Three Garridebs Moment

Words Were Never Useful by Jenn1984 (K+, 819 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt Comfort, John Whump, Friendship, Ambiguous Ending) - ALLEY BEHIND THE BOOKSTORE, JOHN STABBED. HELP NOW. SH

Dismantle the Sun by Mount_Seleya (T, 965 w., 1 Ch. || John Whump, 3G, Angst, Grief) – After a gunshot leaves John in critical condition, Sherlock holds vigil beside his hospital bed, slowly unravelling as the night progresses.

The Four Incidents by TheGirlWithRedHair22 (K+, 1,064 w., 1 Ch. || S1 Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, John Whump, Accident, John POV, Hand Holding, Worried Sherlock, Sherlock’s Self Esteem) – The first time John was present when someone insulted Sherlock, he brushed it off as a strange coincidence.

Wreckage and Rubble by grannysknitting (K+, 1,116 w. || Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Ambiguous Ending) – Lestrade's point of view when he's called to the wreckage of the pool. He doesn't want to deal with the wreckage that would occur if London's newest crime fighting duo are parted from each other.

Let Me Through by RacheLynne (K+, 1,172 w. || Angst, Friendship, Ambiguous Ending) – Once Sherlock and John are finally reunited, things seem to be looking up. But when is it ever sunshine and roses for these two? It isn’t long before things go downhill for the pair - and fast.

Two To Tango (The Cold Hands, Warm Heart Remix) by igrockspock (T, 1,207 w., 1 Ch. || Domestics, John Whump, Worried Sherlock) – When John is wounded while pursuing a suspect, Sherlock refuses to leave his side. 

I Feel A Weakness by Jenn1984 (T, 1,389 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Angst, John Whump) – John Watson is hurt. Sherlock has a hard time processing it.

Persuasion by Januscars (K+, 1,492 w. || Friendship, Crime, Angry Sherlock, Hostage John) – A gunman holds a gun to John's head, and Sherlock proves to be very persuasive when he wants to be... 

Left In The Ashes by zoltargirl (T, 1,497 w. || Angst, MCD, Angry Sherlock, Brutal Violence) – Rage is a unique quality in all human beings. In Sherlock Holmes, it's terrifying.

The 3x John Carried Sherlock, and Once ViceVersa by ShinkonoKokoro (K+, 1,673 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Friendship, Three and One, BAMF John, Sherlock Whump, Worried Sherlock, John Gets Shot) – It happens more than he suspects.

Priorities by Starlight05 (K+, 1,686 w. || Friendship, Worried Sherlock/John) – The power is out on Baker Street, so candles are the only source of light at 221B. But then, at night, things go terribly wrong, and Sherlock and John realize just how much they mean to each other.

Quite Contrary by Hollyesque (T, 1,805 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fic, Sherlock Whump / After Mary Shot Sherlock, Hallucinations / Flashbacks / PTSD, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Lestrade POV ) – A short one-shot, alternate scene to Greg's hospital visit in HLV. Instead of Sherlock disappearing, Greg is faced with an unexpected reaction to a hospitalized Sherlock and winds up figuring out something that he really would have rather not known.

In Which Lestrade Looks in on Sherlock and Observes by Aztecwarfareandcrumping (K+, 1,833 w. || Lestrade POV, Friendship, Hurt Comfort, John Whump) – John's in hospital, which means Sherlock is, too. Lestrade takes it upon himself to look in on them.

One in Ten Thousand by Blind Author (K+, 1,856 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TGG, Friendship / Pre-Slash, Discussions of Violence, Worried then Curious Sherlock, Scars/John’s Bullet Wound, Medical Anomalies) – John seems to have unusual mobility for a shoulder wound…

The Doctor's Capable Hands by Totally-Out-Of-It (K+, 2,012 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock Whump, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Anxious Sherlock) – Sherlock is injured during a chase. John sits watchful at his bedside in the hospital and wonders. He wouldn't leave Sherlock alone like this. Especially not if Sherlock wanted him to stay.

Ten Hours by morningdawn202 (T, 2,242 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Friendship, Worried Sherlock, John’s Cane) - It’s been ten hours since Sherlock saw John last. 

The Many Faces of Concern by sdrawkcabemdaer5 (K+, 2,473 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Angsty Fluff, John Whump, Mildly Clueless / Guilty Sherlock) – John is injured on a case, leading to some surprising reactions and discoveries about their friendship.

Domino by Deception's Call (K, 2,689 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Scared / Worried Sherlock, John Whump, Crying Sherlock, Hospital, Implied Caretaker Sherlock) – When John is injured on a case and is admitted to the hospital, those at Scotland Yard come to realize that perhaps Sherlock Holmes has a heart after all.

All in a Day by chappysmom (K+, 2,920 w. || Kidnapping, Sherlock POV) – Oddly enough, it seemed like this time, Sherlock had been kidnapped for no other reason than to pressure John. In other words, this had nothing to do with him. Really, this on top of the blow to the head was enough to make him dizzy.

Once is Enough by Jominerva (T, 3,030 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confessions, Domestic Fluff, Whump) – Just as the earth rises to meet the sun at every mountain crest, John reaches out for Sherlock and takes his hand in his own."Tell me it won't end like this," he says, blue eyes holding grey while he laces their fingers together. Sherlock lets out a shaky laugh and shakes his head. "I wish I could."

A World Without You by tinyhobbit (T, 3,133 w. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, John Whump) – After John is quite badly hurt at the scene of a crime, Sherlock reacts in a way which allows John to finally see that his sociopathic best friend cares. One-shot, set sometime between Baskerville and Reichenbach.

Explosions, Literal and Otherwise by Jennistar1 (T, 3,288 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Worried Sherlock, Sort of Rev.-Reichenbach) – Sherlock does not react well to the idea that John might be dead.

All That I Have by the_arc5 (M, 3,721 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TGG Canon Divergence, Pining Sherlock, John Whump, Anxious / Worried Sherlock, Light Angst) – In the aftermath of the Great Game, Sherlock finds himself with a new weakness. John is both the cause and the cure.

Nursery Rhymes by macrauchenia (T, 4,064 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Suspense, MCD, Unhappy Ending) – "Hickory dickery dock. Sherlock's against the clock. When the wick is gone, so will be John. Hickory dickery dock." - John is in a struggle for his life in a warehouse rigged to blow by Moriarty.

Not Without Me by Jennistar1 (T, 4,319 w., 1 Ch. || Drama, Mystery, Post-TRF Hiatus, Pining Sherlock) – Halfway through Sherlock's Great Hiatus, Mycroft comes to him with the news that John has died. But all is not what it seems…

Very Good Indeed by StillWaters1 (T, 4,531 w, 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Doctor John, John Whump) – John Watson was a doctor, trained to observe details; a fact Sherlock had never been more aware of than when a drugged John’s lifesaving instructions were based on an unlabeled syringe and an unconscious murder suspect’s body.

EMERGENCY CONTACT: Sherlock Holmes, RELATIONSHIP: n/a by blueink3 (M, 5,533 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt John / John Whump, Five and One, Fluff & Angst, Worried Sherlock)  – The first time John Watson’s emergency contact is called is the first time Sherlock Holmes finds out that he has the job. Part 1 of The Emergency Contact Series

Not The Hands That Kill by You_Light_The_Sky (M, 6,201 w., 1 Ch. || Winglock, Whump, Mentions of Drug Use) – Having wings does not make Sherlock Holmes a guardian angel, not in the way that John Watson is his.

EMERGENCY CONTACT: John Watson, RELATIONSHIP: Saint by blueink3 (M, 6,229 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt Sherlock, 5+1, Hurt / Comfort, Caring John, Scars) – The first time Sherlock Holmes realizes he needs an emergency contact is the first time he mentally appoints John Watson with the job. John, of course, does not know this and neither does the local hospital. Part 2 of The Emergency Contact Series

Goodbye, John by XxMildredxX (T, 7,154 w., 1 Ch.  || MCD, Angst, Self Reflection, Saying Goodbye, Holidays,, Scared Sherlock, Bittersweet Ending) – John finds it very difficult to tell Sherlock of his diagnosis, but it seems Sherlock has deduced it himself. As John says goodbye, he and Sherlock struggle with the feelings that this brings on them, and how Sherlock will go on when John has gone.

It’s Natural To Be Afraid by Jenn1984 (T, 7,283 w. || Tragedy, Angst, MCD) - Refusing to accept the obvious, Sherlock searches for what he believes truly happened the night his world was shattered.

Riddles in the Dark by Starlight05 (T, 9,255 w., 10 Ch. || Suspense & Friendship, Torture) - When Sherlock is kidnapped by an old nemesis, it’s up to John to find him and save his life. But can he find a way to get the detective out of this mess? And will they be found in time?

The Dying Doctor by Transcendental Starlight (T, 11,258 w., 3 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Sick John / John Whump, ACD Rewrite) – Loosely based off ACD's "The Dying Detective." Sherlock relives a case that should have killed him, but instead resulted in John being hospitalized for a deadly disease. Sherlock endeavors to catch the murderer, while attempting to envision a future without John Watson. No Slash.

Equilibrium by augustbird (M, 12,351 w., 1 Ch. || Flowers for Algernon Fusion || Jealous then Worried Sherlock, Sick John) – At Baskerville, John is infected by a virus that turns him into a genius. But when the infection progresses into neurodegeneration, it's a race against time to save himself.

The dying Doctor by marylouleach (T, 21,168 w., 11 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, John Whump) – Doctor Watson is gunned down in a dark alley after work, Sherlock wont rest until he finds the man responsible. Guilt riddles him when he realizes he could have prevented this.

Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mild Gore, Sherlock Whump) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s 'Heart of Darkness', and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts' now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.

Bloody But Unbowed by BeautifulFiction (E, 43,211 w., 8 Ch. || Abduction, John Whump, Mild Torture, Background Case Fic, Friends to Lovers, Post-TRF / S3 Rewrite, Hurt/Comfort) – When a familiar argument threatens to destroy the last remnants of John and Sherlock's failing friendship, both men are left questioning their worth to one another. Before either of them has the chance to make amends, circumstance intervenes. John is left at the mercy of his abductors, and this time, he's not sure Sherlock will bother coming to his rescue.

Wars We Fought, Things We're Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w., 10 Ch. || Post S3 / Post TAB, Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST/URT, 3G, Mild Peril, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case, Protective Mycroft, Infant Death Pre-Story, Friends to Lovers) –  Five months after John's world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.

You Have Drawn Red From My Hands by J_Baillier (T, 67,085 w., 17 Ch. || Three Garridebs, Heavy John Whump, Hurt / Comfort, Pining, Heavy Angst, Case Fic/Adventure, Slow Burn, Sick Fic, Injury, Guilt & Depression, Just Talk Already Please, Medical Realism, PTSD) –  John getting injured leads Sherlock on a path of guilt and revelations.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sick Fic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him. 

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,256 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Summit Fever by J_Baillier (M, 78,802 w., 18 Ch. || Mountain Climber AU || POV John, Angst, Tragedy, Suicidal Ideation, The Himalayas, Mountain Guide / Doctor John, Mount Climber Sherlock, Loneliness, Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Injured Sherlock / Sherlock Whump, Pining John) – After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he's a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover's trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I—the most lethal of all the world's highest mountains—shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON by skyefullofstars (T, 110,758 w., 24 Ch. || H/C, Kidnapping, Angst, Violence, Whump, Nightmares, Murder, Drug Addiction, Torture) – While Sherlock grapples with his new-found feelings for John Watson, he faces a very real threat: John's kidnapping and shooting at the hands of James Moriarty. And the knowledge that the love of his life is being used to test an addictive drug - at the risk of John's sanity and life. Prequel to THE BOYS OF BAKER STREET. Part 1 of THERE BUT FOR THE GRACE OF JOHN WATSON

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w., 27 Ch. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller, Switchlock, Rimming, Emotional Lovemaking, Lots of Sex, HJ/BJ’s) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe

[bakerstmel]

Fall Favorite Fic Festival, Entry 4

I'm writing this in Memphis, TN, and I can't see any red trees from my hotel window. Too far south to have gotten started, maybe. It's been very overcast. I'm here for a professional meeting, and as is always the case, they've had the AC set to "violent" in the meeting rooms and I don't know that I'll ever be warm again. You know how if you've ever gotten a sunburn, the water in the shower is warmer when it hits your feet than when it comes out of the showerhead, because it's been heated by your skin? My showers here have been the complete opposite of that.

All that to say, I'm still feeling sad, still feeling lonely, definitely facing an anniversary reaction from my sister's passing, and still quite intentionally drowning my sorrows in fic.

I had the best, most angsty fic in mind for this entry, like, call and warn @221bjen level angst, but then one day, this manip came to mind, for no particular reason:

and oh, yeah, baby. I couldn't sign into AO3 fast enough. If you know, you know, and if you don't, you've got to read:

Whiteout, by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John

I will spare your TL by adding a cut here.

This is a fic I re-read fairly often for sheer pleasure, but that is not to say it's fluff. The author tries in the notes to make it sound like fluff, but it's Sherlock and John as part of an aerial rescue team at the freaking Matterhorn and there is ice and danger and multiple CPR events and Greg Lestrade speaking French and secrets and tears and all kinds of relationship drama and it's JUST NOT FLUFF, OK? However, it is written in a fun documentary style (Shane based it on a documentary he came across on Netflix) with mostly dialogue and camera direction and it is a quick, satisfying read.

I've had the pleasure of betaing for this author in the past, and so I've spent more than a little time thinking about his style. He is an extremely versatile writer, and I think this fic really highlights that. If you compare this style to, say, the highly descriptive and romantic (not just in the relationship way, but also in the world-painted-in-perfect-light-way) Gimme Shelter, you wouldn't necessarily know they were written by the same person within a fairly short block of time (8 months). This fic is crisp, well timed, and quickly paced, with perfectly set points of action, snappy dialogue, and not a lot of down time. Gimme Shelter moves well too, but it's a very different feeling, silky and gentle. It's like the difference between taking a shot of great tequila vs savoring a perfect Cabernet. And if that's not enough for you, please note that SWDYCMJ has also written Priestlock, a skiing OT3, a straight-ahead ghost story, Potterlock, and a Black Mirror crossover that kept me on my toes. Plus, of course, the beautiful Brokeback Mountain fusion that still breaks my heart in all the best ways.

I mentioned in my last entry how the artistry in this fandom continues to knock me out to this day, and Shane's collective work is another prime example.

I don't feel like I'm doing this fic justice, but it's kinda hard for me to talk about without ruining the surprise of it. Even discussing the structure is tricky. Just...go read it. You'll thank me later.

[specialagentlokitty]

Lestrade x reader - I need you

- Lestrade x Reader - Reader is an officer for Scotland Yard and a suspect shoots/ stabs them fatally and Reader dies in Greg's arms. Extra angst if they're not in a relationship and Reader's last words are 'I love you' and Greg doesn't get to say it back - @mxacegrey 💜

Crouching behind the police car, gun in your hand you looked at the man next to you.

“Do we have a clear shot?” You whispered.

“No, they’ve can’t get a clear shot because of the hostage.”

You moved to the other side of the car and looked at the sobbing woman, you didn’t know what to do, if anyone made a move he was going to hurt her.

You couldn’t let that happen, so you peaked around the car and you realised there was a way to get around this.

You looked to Lestrade and you gestured for him to come over.

“Move the riot unit to behind that building, Anderson and Donovan need to keep him distracted. If we can get behind those bushes we’ll have a short window before he notices…”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s anxious, alert. He checks all around him frequently, a minute is all we have to move officers behind the bushes, he won’t see them. From there two officers can strike, one grabs him and the other grabs the woman.”

Lestrade looked at you then to the rest of the force who was waiting for some sort of direction.

He trusted you, and he knew you thought carefully about this so he nodded and moved, and you watched the man follow Lestrade with his head.

Using this as a chance you quickly crawled to the next car, looking around you pointed to an officer and he moved over.

“With me.”

“Right.”

You waited for the moment to move, which took more time then you wanted, but soon enough you were slowly moving behind the bushes to get to the opening behind the man.

“We have one chance, you follow me. When I grab him, you need to grab her and get her out of there, okay?”

“Yeah, got it.”

You waited again, and slowly you started to move, but it was Anderson who gave the whole plan away.

He looked at you, which made the man look and you made a split second choice.

Running, you grabbed both his arms and threw him to the ground, while the woman was rushed away you were knocked to the floor and you felt a sharp pain in your side.

“(Y/N)!”

The man was tackled off you, and Lestrade ran over, dropping to his knees next to you.

He started to pat around your vest, and he felt the gap in the fabric of it.

Carefully he undid the vest, and peeled it back to show your blood soaked shirt and he cursed under his breath.

“It’s okay, it’s nothing serious. I just need to get this off.”

He carefully moved you in order to get the vest off, and he took his jacket off, folding it he placed it under your head.

Lestrade placed a hand over the wound, applying pressure to it to try and stop the bleeding, and the other on the side of your face.

You were gasping for air, your hand shaking as you brought it up to grip his hand tightly, pulling it away from your face as you clutched it.

“L..Lestrade… it… it hurts..”

“Shh, okay. It’s okay, you’re okay…” he whispered.

He looked at his hand which was covered in blood, seeping through his fingers and to the floor.

“Crap.. crap!” He yelled, “we need an ambulance hurry up!”

He turned his attending back to you, and he lifted your shirt a little to see the blood just pouring out of your abdomen.

“Oh god..”

He quickly pulled your shirt back down and tried pressed his hand back to the wound but he couldn’t get a good grip.

He pulled his tie from his neck, getting your blood on his neck and shirt but he didn’t care. He used the tie to put pressure on the wound.

You had tears falling from your face, and he reached up, hand still in yours as he wiped some of your tears.

“I’m here, just hang in there helps coming, it’s coming…”

You turned your eyes to his and you breathed shakily.

“It.. it hurts.. Greg I.. I.. I can’t..”

“You can. Okay? You can! You.. you have too…”

He was trying to keep himself calm and composed for you, but it was next to impossible.

Looking at you, bleeding on the floor, begging and crying because you were in so much pain. He felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest.

He placed the back of his hand to your cheek, turning your head to face him and you looked at him, heaving for breath.

Blood was trickling from your lips, you could hardly breath.

Quickly Lestrade acted, hand pressing into your wound making you cry out in pain and he apologised as he rested your back against his chest.

Your head was on his shoulder, and you were breathing deeply, your hand still clutched in his, and your other hand wrapped around your abdomen, fingers brushing against his.

“Ambulance is a few minutes out!” Someone shouted.

“You hear that? A few minutes, just a few more minutes…”

You heard him but you didn’t say anything in reply.

You looked at all the blood around, on your clothes and his hand, still pouring out and the realisation hit you.

Even if you got into that ambulance you didn’t have a good chance of making it, you didn’t have to be Sherlock to know that one.

“Greg… Greg I.. I need to tell you.. something…”

“Tell me in the hospital okay?”

“No.. no… you… it has to.. be now…”

You slowly titled your head back, bringing your free hand up to his face, gently touching his cheek.

Lestrade heard the sirens.

“I… I love you…”

He stared down at you in shock, and you gave a weak smiling.

Your vision was pulsating, and your body felt heavy.

“I.. I love… you…” you repeated.

Lestrade leant into your touch, and he then leant down and kissed the top of your head, looking down at you.

He went to reply, but he realised your hand wasn’t holding his face anymore, it was on the floor.

Your other hand that was clutching his was limp, and your eyes were closed.

“(Y/N)…”

He gently shook you.

“(Y/N)? No. No. No. no. No. Wake up. Please, wake up, wake up!”

He laid your on the floor and stared to push down on your chest, trying to remember how to do CPR.

His tears fell on your face, but he didn’t stop, he kept going, anything to keep your heart beating just a little longer as the ambulance came around the corner.

“Wake up!” He yelled.

Paramedics rushed up, and pushed him away, no matter how much he yelled and begged and pleaded for them not to take you away they did.

Lestrade fell back, Anderson appeared behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, letting his boss lean against his legs as he stared at your being taken away.

Lestrade looked down at his bloodied hands, your blood. The hands that you held so tightly when you took your last breath.

You told him you loved him.

You.

You loved him.

He’d been waiting to hear those ever since he first laid eyes on you but he could never build up the courage to ask you out on a date.

Lestrade slowly pushed himself from the floor, stumbling a few steps as he grabbed his jacket, and barged past Anderson to get to his car.

He got in and he just sat there, bloodied hands gripping the steering wheel as he just stared straight away.

You loved him.

And he couldn’t even say it back.

He couldn’t ask you on a date.

He couldn’t see your smile.

Couldn’t hear your laugh.

Couldn’t do anything he loved dong with you.

You had been ripped away from him.

He didn’t know what to do, a large hole suddenly appeared in his life, and he felt like it was going to eat him whole.

You were the one thing in his life that gave him the strength and the courage to put up with whatever crap life was going to throw at him, and now he didn’t have that anymore.

He reached over and went to grab your coat, but he stopped himself, not wanting to get it dirty and he pulled his hand away.

“I need you (Y/N)…”

Because he did.

Greg Lestrade needed you in his life, because without you he had nothing good anymore

[ao3feed-narlie]

Spotify Wrapped Writing Challenge 2024

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/tePwGAv by Crazy_Comet_97 Crossposted from Tumblr: Send a pairing and a number between 1-100 for a minific based on that song. (2024 Edition - Currently doing Mystrade, Narlie, FirstPrince, Steddie, and Buddie!) Words: 658, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English Series: Part 47 of 🛢️ Lucky Dip 🛢️, Part 27 of 🧊 The Waiting Room 🧊 Fandoms: Heartstopper (TV), Heartstopper (Webcomic), Stranger Things (TV 2016), Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, Red White & Royal Blue (2023), Sherlock (TV), 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Gen, M/M, Multi Characters: Nicholas "Nick" Nelson, Charles "Charlie" Spring (Heartstopper), Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade, Evan "Buck" Buckley Relationships: Nicholas "Nick" Nelson/Charles "Charlie" Spring, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Additional Tags: Short, short one shots, Short & Sweet, Random & Short, Meme, Memes, Request Meme, Tumblr Memes, prompt fics, Tumblr Prompt, prompt fills, Spotify Wrapped Writing Challenge, Spotify Wrapped Writing Challenge 2024, Mini fics, Narlie, steddie, first prince, mystrade, buddie, Work In Progress read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/tePwGAv

[softsnzstuff]

Thinking about an overworked detective who just caught a big break in the case having to stand out in the rain at night overseeing a crime scene investigation (or something) when he’s already got a bad cold 🤤🤤

——

I’m here to request this!! 🤭

Ask and you shall receive!! Getting back to my roots with some classic M/ystrade goodness.

Summary - D.I. Lestrade has caught the worst cold in a long time but he’s stuck working a new lead in the case thanks to Sherlock. Mycroft stops by and fusses. As per usual. 🥰

Dedicated to @snzagaba for encouraging me to write it and also to my lovely Anon for requesting 💕

The winter rain hammered the pavement all over London, icy winter chill freezing people to the bones. Most people were inside their warm homes at this time of night, but Detective Inspector Lestrade was out near a construction site.

Sherlock had informed him earlier that they needed to go to the site immediately and search for the discarded backpack that would lock up the suspects for good - nasty fellas involved in a brutal child murder.

Greg wasn’t sure how Sherlock always managed to do it, but he hadn’t been wrong yet. This time he was on about the way the suspect wore his belt. Had to give away that he worked construction in the side.

The consulting detective and his partner were standing under two umbrellas, Sherlock barking orders at the dog team. Greg was without umbrella, soaked to his shoes.

“HURRRDSH!!”

He snapped forward, water droplets flying off the soggy whisps of hair.

Sherlock shot him a glare that said ‘you’re interrupting my thinking’.

“Bless you.” John offered before turning back to face the scene with sherlock.

With Mycroft away on business this week, no one was around to tell him to get some rest. The DI had been working late nights at Scotland Yard every day this week, running himself ragged. By Wednesday he’d already started coming down with one hell of a cold. Donovan and Anderson avoiding him by Thursday.

The silver haired man used a wet hand to try and wipe the rain out of his eyes - an effort that was futile. He pulled an already damp tissue from his pocket and coughed harshly into it.

The cough sounded worse than it was - two decades of smoking seemed to have that effect on Greg whenever he fell ill.

“You’ll catch your death out here, Gregory.”

The man in question turned around and was met with none other than the British government himself holding an umbrella over them both.

“ii’GSHHH! Heh’RRRDSHUH!”

Mycroft huffed a sigh, always startled by how loud his partner could be.

“I thi’gk I already have…” Greg mumbled from behind the tissue. He blew his nose, practically turning it to confetti.

“For heavens sake Gregory, do throw that useless napkin away.” The younger man removed a clean and pressed handkerchief from his suit’s breast pocket and handed it to the detective who was already putting it to good use.

“H’eTCHiew!”

“Bless.” Mycroft pursed his lips as he strode over to Sherlock and John.

“Ah, brother. You’ve gained weight.” Sherlock quipped.

Mycroft rolled his eyes, “Could you perhaps hurry this up, brother dear. Detective Inspector Lestrade is unwell.”

“What Grant?”

“You know his name, Sherlock.”

The younger of the Holmes’ brothers shouted at the crime scene investigators who were digging in ponchos.

“Not there you idiots. Your other left!! For Christ’s sake Anderson, didn’t anyone teach you directions?? THERE!”

Right where sherlock pointed, someone hit something solid. After a couple people joined in the digging, it was unearthed as a backpack. THE backpack needed to crack the case.

“Detective, I think you’ll find the backpack was exactly where I’d thought. Inside you’ll found damning evidence that the banker did it all along for the insurance claim. We’ll be on our way now.”

Sherlock turned on his heels, John apologizing but following after him.

“Is that enough to get you home and into some dry clothes then?” Mycroft asked. “Anthea has the car ready to go.”

“Erm… let me make sure Donovan can handle this before I just snfff leave them…”

Mycroft made a note of his partner’s growing congestion. He’d prepare the humidifier later that night.

A few moments later, Greg was trotting back over through the rain.

“Alright, she’s got it. Don’t suppose the British government can summon me a towel?” He teased.

The window of the car rolled down and Anthea handed one over. It was warm as if it had just come out of the dryer.

“How did you-? Nevermind…”

“Don’t mumble, Gregory.” Mycroft ushered him into the back of the car. “Let’s tend to that cold of yours, shall we?”

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 3 - Shot Through The Heart

One lovely early morning, Katrina put her coat on and went to meet up with Jim from IT; Funny enough, the two became such good friends that they incorporated this morning coffee and park stroll activity into their routine. Since her best friend and flatmate, Lea, got a boyfriend, she began spending more time with him and their common group of friends. Due to many schedule differences, Katrina could never really find the time to join in their fun - Nor did she feel too welcomed anyway. Regardless, the flat was so... Dark and quiet, in spite of the many fairy lights or the constantly playing music. No matter how homely she made her home, it still felt cold and empty... Lonesome. That was the right word - It was lonesome. She felt lonely.

It didn't matter that Sherlock and John were just below her, or that she met James every morning, and interracted at work with Molly and Greg; At the end of the day, there was no one waiting her home, except for her old baby girl, Fifi. She was old, growing tired, startled, almost blind and deaf. Bless her heart.

The only bit of excitement she's had was in the unfortunate case of the block being bombed, as Lestrade informed - Thankfully, not hard enough that it destroyed her own flat, but bad enough that Sherlock's windows shattered to hell. Poor Mrs. Hudson!

Regardless - A lovely morning like many others, a sweet coffee in her hand, and great company by her side, strolling through a gorgeous park - A lovely day indeed. 

"I'm curious, Jim... How has your life shifted since you started working in this place. Since you got caught up with the whole mess with Molly, myself, Sherlock... Poor hacker boy must have no free time of peace and quiet." the bluenette chuckled at him, taking a sip from the hot drink.  "It's certainly entertaining, that's true. I'm glad I got to meet you, though. I don't really have friends... I guess I'm too much of an introvert. This feels like a breath of fresh air." he gave a timid smile, making her nod in understanding, an ever-lasting smile on her face. "It's fun hearing such exciting stories told from different people. It's like making a puzzle, putting together evidence and painting the whole picture yourself. It only made me want to meet your friend, Sherlock, even more. He sounds like a brilliant detective, like you read in Agatha Christie's novels!"

"Oh, you like them too, don't you! Why, I thought the exact same thing - Yes, handling cases together feels like a more dangerous Christie novel indeed!" the lady sparkled with glee hearing that. "Although - I can't say meeting Sherlock would be a... Spectacular experience. You see - He can be... Quirky." she tried to speak politely; He was never rude to her like he was with Anderson or others, but with how unpredictable he could be, she was quite afraid of introducing them together. She didn't want Sherlock's insensitive nature to hurt her friend. "And I wouldn't call him very emotionally intelligent... He can be... A little rude; He doesn't have a filter when he speaks, and he's very blunt."

"How scary!" Jim's eyes widened. "I wouldn't want to make a bad first impression - You and Molly both are friends with him, I wouldn't want to..." he cleared his throat. "Anyway, that doesn't matter; Molly said he comes by the office very rarely anyway. With how cooped up I am in the IT department cubicle, I don't think I'll have the pleasure anyway. Maybe for the better."

"Well, don't worry - If the opportunity arises, I'll try to keep the ocean smooth! Hopefully, Molly would be there too - It would help a lot, I think." she smiled brightly, patting his back reassuringly. "How's the game going?"

"I managed to get around with the game beta testing prototype. I have the stick with me... If you want to try it out and give me your feedback. It's supposed to be kind of like... A domino effect. You have to solve a puzzle that will get you to another, and so on. It's like a chain reaction." he explained, making the lady grin at him brightly, quickly snatching the USB stick and putting it in her purse. "As soon as I get home, I'll try it out without a doubt! I'm so excited to see what you've created. Thanks for trusting me enough with your game, Jim. You're the best." she winked at him playfully, as he feigned bashfulness. She hasn't had such a fun friendship for ages.

"Now, now - We wouldn't want to make Sherlock jealous, would we?" he winked back before they both started laughing.

"Sherlock, jealous? Ha! I have heard them all! The only thing Sherlock would ever be jealous about would be someone potentially smarter than him - And his brother. Though, he's very childish about his sibling rivalry petty feud." they giggled like two school kids. "The moment Sherlock Holmes shows jealousy is the moment the world implodes!" she threw her hands in the air with a theatrical exclaim, as if she was a incurring Divine Retribution.

"You are so dramatic!" he laughed back at her. "So I've been called, dear friend!" she displayed mock pride, like a super model winning Miss Universe. Her moment of glory quickly vanished once her phone started beeping, and she received a most confusing picture. "Forgive me, I have to call the very man." he gestured for her to go ahead and do her thing. "Hello? Sherlock? Can you please tell me why, exactly, did you send me a picture of the basement of Mrs. Hudson's spare apartment? It looks rather ominous, you know?" she found herself saying. "Hold on - Are you on a case? Is this from Moriarty?"   "I knew it - I KNEW IT! It just HAD to be that place!" Sherlock exclaimed as if he'd just discovered God himself. "You're a life saver as always, bless your soul!" even through the phone, it seemed as though he was gleaming with excitement.

"Sherlock, please, tell me what's this all about - If it is Moriarty, you know it concerns me and my safety - Especially after what happened with that bomb." Katrina whined, pleading him to speak to her already. "Is there going to be another bomb? Is this picture some kind of clue? A treasure hunt kind of game?"

"I suspect someone started a most amusing game, and I am more than eager to play it." the detective seemed more than enthusiast; Katrina didn't know, however, that the IT specialist next to her was sporting a shady look on his face; He was elated to see her intuition at work, before his very eyes. "I'll go there now and call you once I've found something. We'll see from there." "Alright, fine... I'll be at the lab. I'll be waiting..." she muttered, not happy with the vague response. "Oh, and, Sherlock? Please - Please, be safe. I don't want anything happening to you."

She heard a small exhale from the other end of the line; Amused, yet somewhat grateful. "See you soon." it sounded like a promise of reunion - A promise that he'll return safe and sound, just like a husband at war, returning home after many hard years. "James - Forgive me, my mind's in a million places. Do you mind if we return to the office? I think I want to start up on today's work." she stopped in her tracks, looking visibly worried, with her head in the clouds.

"Are you alright? Did anything happen to Sherlock?" she shook her head, reassuring her friend that everything was just fine.

"Yes, don't worry - If Sherlock says he will be fine, he will be." she nodded her head, as if to convince herself. "Are we still up for Karaoke tonight? It's 80s-90s rock ballads night - Our favourite."

"Certainly! I wouldn't miss it for anything!" Jim's smile made her heart feel a little lighter ; Together, they bought another coffee and returned to the office. Molly was there when they returned - Seeing them together, smiling at each other and vibing seemed to make her smile tremble a little. Her mind was too cloudy, and tainted by doubt.

During the time Katrina was doing her work, Sherlock discovered a most peculiar pair of old shoes - And more, he received a call from the pink phone they received in a lovely Bohemian envelope - A pink phone resembling perfectly that of Jennifer from the Study of Pink case. The phone was read by a victim having a bomb strapped to her body, reading the words written by Moriarty for Sherlock - A puzzle he had to solve in twelve hours, if he wanted to save the poor woman.

Thus, Sherlock and John rushed to the hospital where Katrina and Molly were working, and he burst into the lab, startling them both. "I'm bust. Let's keep unnecessary pleasantries to a minimum - Help me out or keep quiet." the detective started investigating every little inch of that old pair of trainers. "John, brief Katrina on the case. The basics. Make it quick."

"Well, uh... Sherlock got this picture that led us to Mrs. Hudson's basement, as you know, and we found this shoes. There's a woman strapped with a bomb and we have to save her by solving the puzzle in less than twelve hours." John briefed her quickly. "And, uh... I guess that's as far as I know."

"Alright. How can I help?" the bluenette asked with sharp keen.

"Help me find the origins of the mud and pollen on the trainers." at once, without another word spoken between the two, both Sherlock and Katrina sat down in front of their microscopes and computers, searching for information on the mud sample.

"I-, uh... I'll go get some coffee!" Molly chuckled awkwardly, rushing out of there; She didn't quite like not getting any kind of attention - She felt completely invisible. Her heart sank, seeing Sherlock confide in her friend, after only meeting her a few days or weeks prior, whilst he'd known her for years now, and all he does is take her for granted... It was so unfair! Still, she couldn't... She couldn't think ill of either of them. She cared dearly for them both... And she was dating Jim! He was a lovely man... Although he was nothing like Sherlock, to whom both her mind and heart were lingering on.

It was quiet for a few good minutes, with only the technology making soft noises that went deaf on their ears - John - Poor John was feeling uncomfortable and on edge. "So, who d’you suppose it was?" John asked, receiving no answer. "The woman on the phone – The crying woman. The hostage."

"Does it have any relevance to the case?" Katrina found herself asking, her mellow voice not bothering Sherlock's thinking in the least. 

"For God’s sake, I wasn’t thinking about leads or anything like that!" John seemed almost surprised at the lack of sympathy expressed even by the lady herself. "Don't you care what happens to her? Who she is, why she was picked and all that?"

"We are here to solve the case - Solving the case is equal to saving her, from what I've understood." the blue haired lady replied impassively. "Wait, so, you don't care what happens to her? Who she is, why she was picked and all that?" the doctor almost freaked out at her passiveness.

"If her identity didn't play a part into her being taken hostage, then knowing who she is won't help us save her." the lady replied - In a way, the detective was rather grateful for her bothering to answer of all John's stupid and mundane questions - After all, it was saving him precious time and thinking resources. She had Godly patience - He could never. "Are- Are they trying to trace it, trace the call?" John continued to worry after a few brief seconds of silence.

"I don't they they are bothering with that." the lady replied again. "It's Moriarty we're talking about - He's far too meticulous to leave any unwanted trace behind him. The only way to save our hostage is to solve his puzzle within the time limit." Thankfully, the veteran's flurry of questions was stopped by Sherlock's phone ringing; He was receiving text messages, based on the notification ring.Sherlock ordered his friend, who may or may not have looked around the room, confused as to the whereabouts of the phone. "His jacket." Katrina replied instantly, not even shifting her sight from the microscope. "His... His what...?" John blinked in confusion is disbelief at the ridiculous request. Sighing, knowing it would take far too long for John to budge and actually aimlessly dig into the inside pocket of his flatmate's jacket, Katrina stepped behind the very man, her hand carefully reaching around him, pickpocketing the phone with her nimble fingers, before handing it to John. She had to admit, the short action almost felt like a hug - She quite liked it. Unbeknownst to her, Sherlock's muscles stiffened a little at the close contact - He wasn't used to being touched by other people, he was the one to initiate the touching, and only if necessary. He had his boundaries, like any other person -- He had to admit, though, this one he didn't mind at all.

"Who's it?" Sherlock finally spoke.

"May I...?" was she asking for his permission to access his phone? What a darling!

"Yes, yes -- Just tell me if it's relevant." not bothering to shift his attention from his search, he waited impatiently for an answer.

"Oh! It's a text from your brother! Can I say hi?" Sherlock rolled his eyes - That was so childish. Still, he just waved his hand dismissively - Do what you want, basically. "It's about some missile plans, and a man called Andrew West. How should I reply?"

"Just whatever - I'm not bothering with him and his stupid case. If he wants the case solved, he should get a better diet plan and do some legwork for once." the petty rivalry was being unearthed once again - It made the girl giggle, he was adorable when he behaved like a brat. "He can say he's losing weight all he wants - I know the truth. Those muffins have sugar, not stevia. He's put a pound and a half since the last time I saw him - No, a pound and three quarters actually." she lived for this sibling drama.

"Alright, I'll tell him you're busier with better cases!" he didn't reply. 'Hello, Mycroft! I am sorry to say, Sherlock asked me to inform you he is not interested in the case you presented him with. Currently, he is busy with given by Moriarty - A puzzle he has to solve within the time limit, to save a hostage from exploding. Have a lovely day, and good luck with the case! ~ Katrina.' it was the first time she's signed herself by her real name - Her official name. It was weird, making the jump from her nickname, to her original one, but sooner or later, she'd have to. She loved her name, and she loved being called Kat. She missed it, from the people back home... Alas, she had no one else left.

"You wrote too much. Delete the sent text. I don't want to see a polite message addressed to him, sent from my phone. You are far too civil for your own good. Nice people get killed first." Sherlock sneered under his breath, kicking her chair to the side and grabbing her by the white coat sleeve, pulling her down. "Back to important matters - We are busy saving a woman. The problems of the Government don't concern us."

He was disturbed once again, hardly 2 minutes later; This time, Molly returned. It seemed, even in a lab, he had no freedom to think! Where is this world going to?! "Any luck?" Molly's overly sweet smile seemed to go unnoticed by Sherlock, or at least that's what he wanted her to think. The computer beeped, announcing the end of the search. "Oh, yes!" Sherlock smirked in victory, looking more into the microscope. As Molly approached the trio, another door was opened, and unexpectedly, the very man, the Notorious Hacker James the IT Guy, entered the room. "Oh, sorry, I didn't..." Jim awkwardly gave them a half-smile, raising his hand as a sort of introverted greeting, making his way towards them.

"The Notorious James the IT guy joined the party! A round of applause!" Sherlock turned his head to look at the blue haired woman; His eyes narrowed as he frowned. Why was she so excited that this slob of a man was entering the room - In fact, why did she even know this guy? There was no way a coquettish lady like herself would spend time around a guy who doesn't take care of his appearance at all - Except for the overwhelming amount of product he puts into his hair, and the awfully plucked eyebrows... And what is with that hunched posture?  "Jim! Hi!" Molly grinned, urging him to come closer to her, so she could introduce him to the group. Holmes had already made his impression of this guy - He disliked him greatly. Molly? Yes, she was desperate. But Raven? No. No way. She can do far better. "Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes. This is my forensics colleague and friend, Raven... And, uh... Sorry." Molly pointed towards each of them in turn, only to forget John's name. Actually, Kat doubts Molly ever personally met John anyway. "The esteemed John Watson, the doctor of the group. Everyone needs a healer in their group." the gamer girl joked around, trying to ease him up a little. "True, not everyone can be a Necromancer these days." he pointed out, making the bluenette look away and snort in amusement. "Spot on, correct. Wonder what your class would be, Hackerman. A rogue, perhaps?" the girl jabbed at him, which made Sherlock quickly scan her, Molly and Jim from head to toe, before turning back to his research. He didn't like this one bit. Unconsciously, his foot hooked under the wheel of her chair, pulling her a little closer to his side. "So you’re Sherlock Holmes. Molly and Raven talk about you all the time - Only praise, of course." Sherlock wasn't impressed by all this buttering up. "You on one of your cases?" he walks closer to Sherlock, forcing John to step out of his way. "Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That’s how we met. Office romance." the two of them shared a look, giggling like two highschool sweethearts.

"You two are so cute! James talks so sweetly about you every time we meet up!" Katrina started playfully spinning on her chair; Sherlock couldn't help but frown - What was so special about this socially inapt simpleton? "Gay." Sherlock muttered, not taking his eyes from the microscope. What a hoax. "Sorry, what?" Molly's smile faltered just as easily, which only made Sherlock realise that he might have made things a little more awkward than he'd like. "Nothing... Um, hey." the detective smiled fakely at the IT man, before turning back to his work. "Hey." Jim almost seemed like an awkward fangirl as he knocked over one of the metal dishes, then scrambled to pick it up and put it back on the table, apologising profusely, as all people present tried to hide their second-hand embarrassment. "Well, I’d better be off. Raven, karaoke tonight, 8 o'clock?"

"Just as we planned!" she chirped cutely, showing a peace sign. "Call me when you're done with the beta-testing, please." James asked her, only to smile as she nodded in agreement. "Mind if I make a few tweaks, if I find bugs and stuff?" she lean back on her chair, looking at him with a playful expression. "Oh, yeah, of course, go ahead. It'd be nice to see someone better than me and how I can improve." he smiled softly, as she winked at him. "Not everyone can hack into the Swiss Bank and go on holidays." Sherlock's interest was piqued - This innocent little princess who couldn't even hurt a fly... She did what?! "Molly - You comin'?"

"Yeah -- Uh, go ahead, I'll come back in a minute!" Jim smiled awkwardly, nodding at the group. "It was nice to meet you." he told them all - Only John replied, after a long and uncomfortable silence.

"Have a lovely date, you two!" Kat waved him goodbye. As soon as the door closed, Molly's face dropped immediately.   "What d’you mean, gay? We’re together." Molly's voice quivered, frowning at Sherlock, not understanding his reasoning. She was already on the edge with how friendly her boyfriend and her only friend were with each other - And now, this? The man who is never wrong, her ultimate crush of all things - He claims her boyfriend is interested in men and their relationship is just a facade?! "And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You’ve put on three pounds since I last saw you." Sherlock pointed out, which made Kat turn her head, giving him a shocked look. "Sherlock! Don't be so rude!" she cried, like a mother scolding her child. "Two and a half." Molly tried to defend herself, which only fed into his need to always be right. "Nuh, three." the detective shot back, which made John sigh at his lack of sympathy or... Social etiquette. "He’s not gay. Why d’you have to spoil...? He’s not....!" Molly tried to defend her boyfriend, but it seemed mostly like she was trying to defend herself. "With that level of personal grooming?" Sherlock snorted in mock amusement. "Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair." John seemed to be in disbelief at his reasoning. "You wash your hair. There’s a difference. No-no – tinted eyelashes; clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines; those tired clubber’s eyes. Then there’s his underwear, visible above the waistline – Very visible; very particular brand. That, plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here... And I’d say you’d better break it off now and save yourself the pain." Sherlock reached out to take the card with James's number from under the metal dish, showing it to Molly, who stared at it, crestfallen and in tears, turning around and running from the room. "Sherlock.... That was mean!" he turned to look at the girl next to him - The disappointment in her eyes startled him; Was it not an act of caring, telling someone to be careful?    "Just saving her time. Isn’t that kinder?" Sherlock frowned at his two comrades, not understanding what he did wrong. "Kinder? No, no, Sherlock. That wasn’t kind." John rolled his eyes, clearly frustrated.

"You... You have a very... Particularly blunt honesty about you. Yes, your message was helpful, but the delivery... It was the delivery that hurt. That, and the fact that, if your claim comes true - Which, Molly knows, will definitely come true - It means that she's once again single and very much alone." the two shared a few seconds of eye contact, as if they were speaking telepathically. "Nobody likes being alone, Sherlock. Sometimes ignorance is bliss."

"I like being alone." he defended himself.

"No... You don't." he frowned, confused at her implication - What would she know anyway? "You like being alone when you want to be left alone. Otherwise, without any bit of social interaction and mental stimulation... You go crazy. You can't live without it - Without attention, without challenges, without cases - And incidentally - Without people." the look on his face was almost defiant, as if he didn't want to hear the truth coming from someone else; As if he didn't want his mystery and secrets to be discovered. "Rent isn't the only reason you were looking for a flatmate, Sherlock."

"... You would know, wouldn't you?" his tone was low, as if to provoke her back, to rebound that awful implication, a simple fact that he saw as close to a personal attack as it could get. Surprisingly, however, she nodded, a genuine response. She wasn't hiding, she wasn't changing the subject, or lying, or bouncing the conversation his way. No, she was perfectly truthful. That was a scary trait in a human - Sometimes, this honesty scared Sherlock to the core, seeing someone being so helplessly vulnerable with him, without having anything to lose; Vulnerable and genuine, without it being a weakness to exploit - It was her strength, her shield. Her smarts, intuition and wit weren't her only assets - Her personality, also, was special in this world. "Good to know." he cleared his throat, looking away from her and leaning back on his chair - Instead, he focused on John, pushing the trainers his way. "Now, John, go on. You know what I do, off you go." Sherlock gave John one of the trainers on the table, but he refused to touch it. "No. I'm not gonna stand here so you can humiliate me while I try and disseminate..." John tried to say, only for the other one to shake his head. "It's very useful to me. An outside eye, a second opinion." he tried to urge him, but John frowned. "Why don't you have Raven analyse it? Why do you always have to humiliate me?" John put his hands on his hips, glaring at Sherlock. "Will that make you feel any better? Fine!" he glared at his flatmate - The last thing he wanted to do was to look at the bluenette again, when he just turned away from her. Damn it, John.��"Fine. Raven, give it a try. Doesn't matter that you know close to nothing about this case." Sherlock rolled his eyes, turning around with one the trainers, putting it in her hands.

"Uhm...? They're... Very worn out sports shoes. There's a smudged name written here, so they belonged to a child with... Remarkably big feet." she frowned a little, placing a shoe next to her foot - This child's shoe was significantly bigger than her own. "Anyway, it looks like a boy's favourite pair of shoes. They seem worn but repaired to some degree." she continued, looking at them from different angles. "Our sample matched Sussex and London... But if the kid liked these shoes so much, why would they be left behind like that? He wouldn't let them get this muddy, right?"

The detective peered his piercing blue eyes deep into her own; There was little to reproach her for. How annoying. "Very well. You missed about... Half of the information." he extended his hand towards her, so he could show off. "Yes, the owner loved these; Scrubbed them clean, whitened where they got discoloured; Changed the laces three... No, four times - Even so, there are traces of his flaky skin where his fingers  have come into contact with them so he suffered from eczema." he turned the shoe with the soles up. "The shoes are well-worn more so on the inner side, which means the owner had weak arches. British-made, 20 years old."

"How did you know?" the girl asked, seeing the man access his phone.

"They're original." he showed her the screen. "Limited edition, two blue stripes, 1989."

"I wasn't even in the country 20 years ago. I was celebrating the fall of communism." the girl chuckled lightly.

"Wait, but there's still mud on them. They look new." John's correct observation came to light.

"Someone's kept them that way." the detective stated mysteriously. "Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles... Based on the analysis, the kid wore these trainers, came to London from Sussex 20 years ago, and left them behind."

"If Moriarty gave us these shoes - Does that mean the kid died here, in London? 20 years ago?" Sherlock remained silent for a few seconds, before he's had his eureka.

"Yes, he loved these shoes, he'd never leave them filthy, or throw them away... Which means he had to. A child with big feet gets... Oh..." Sherlock's eyes widened in realisation, saying out a name that was completely foreign to both Katrina and John. "Carl Powers."

"Who is Carl Powers...?" Katrina leaned forward a bit, intrigued by his reaction, just like a child eager for the story-telling to continue. "Did you know this kid? Was he one of your cases?" At once, Sherlock picked both John and Katrina up, hurrying them outside of the hospital, to catch a cabbie back home. "It's where I began. 1989, a young kid – champion swimmer – came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament; drowned in the pool. Tragic accident. You wouldn’t remember it. Why should you? And Raven was in her country." Sherlock explained briefly. "But you remember." John pointed out the obvious. "So what was odd about it? What caught your attention?" "Yes, I was only a kid back then, I read it in the papers - I tried to tell the police something was wrong, but nobody listened." he still seemed frustrated by the case. "The boy, Carl Powers, had some kind of fit in the water, but by the time they got him out it was too late. But there was something wrong; something I couldn’t get out of my head." the detective continued, absorbed in his own thoughts. "What?" John asked, intrigued by the story of Sherlock's first case. "His shoes. They weren’t there. I made a fuss; I tried to get the police interested, but nobody seemed to think it was important. He’d left all the rest of his clothes in his locker, but there was no sign of his shoes... Until now." Sherlock smirked, happy to finally be able to solve his first ever case.

"I have a thought - Though I don't know the details of the original case so I might be wrong." Katrina found herself speculating. "You said the boy was a champion swimmer, yet he drowned. That means something happened while he was in the water, right? He couldn't move. If he had a cramp, he could still get himself up enough to hang onto the corridor divider in the swimming pool, right?" Sherlock nodded his head as an encouragement to continue. "That meant something more happened - A cramp not to his leg or arm, but to his whole body." his eyes were beginning to widen little by little. "I am sure you've got a million theories and possible answers in your head right now, and all of them could fit - So let me narrow it down for you, with my limited knowledge and coincidental guess." she continued softly. "Clostridium botulinum - The neurotoxin. A single nanogram per kilogram can kill a person. If it was on his shoes, it touched his skin, and thanks to the eczema, got inside his capillaries, then bloodstream, reached the brain - By the time he entered the pool, his neuromuscular joints had been afflicted - His body was completely paralysed so he couldn't flail around or shout for help fast enough; That, and the fact that his thorax and diaphragm couldn't spread for the lungs to get enough air to last a little longer..." the cabbie became graveyard quiet. "Sorry, maybe that was too far-fetched."

"No, that - That was brilliant, it- It actually makes a lot of sense!" John's praise made the girl's cheeks flush a little with joy.

"I love you." in a split second, Sherlock forgot all about his previous pettiness and grabbed the girl to kiss her temple. "Can't you drive any faster? We've got a case to solve!"   As soon as they arrived home, Sherlock dragged the girl to the microscope to search for the Gram positive anaerobic bacteria. What a naughty bacillus! In the meantime, Mycroft started texting John instead - And the detective sent his sidekick away to gather information from his brother; He was all alone with his lady friend now, to search for answers in peace and quiet.

Sure enough, he did just that - Found his eureka faster than ever, now that he knew what to look for - In his shoelaces! Of course nobody would be looking for Clostridium! Quickly, he posted the answer on his blog, the Science of Deduction - It was the only way to communicate his puzzle solving with the killer, and save the hostage.

Clearly, our bomber was Moriarty, without a shadow of doubt; He was as bored as Sherlock always is. Regardless - The night ended, and once morning came, Sherlock and John rushed to Lestrade to speak about the case and the rescued hostage. They received a new message - This time, unlike previously, the phone pinged 4 times instead of 5. So they had to solve 5 puzzles in total. Only 8 hours to solve the hostage. 

Involved she might have been in the whole Moriarty ordeal, Sherlock didn't think twice about involving the girl in this case - His mind was focused, this was an easy job - Moriarty must be slipping if he thought he couldn't single-handedly solve such a laughably easy case! He was on FIRE! Oh, he was giddy, SO giddy and excited! Three more puzzles - They better be fascinating, otherwise this would be a simple walk in the park for him; A joke, if anything!

The third day came by, and thus, the third case also - The hostage was a blind old woman inside her own apartment; Sherlock had twelve hours to solve this case, once again - A funny case. Moriarty loves his new plaything - He loves to watch him dance to his own tune.

Katrina, however, was doing her job - And because of that, Sherlock himself came to consult with her. His next subject of interest - Connie Prince, a middle-aged TV show host, had died two days prior, and she had been in charge of the autopsy. To think that her death would be related to a Moriarty case - Fascinating!

"Please be quick - We don't have much time to stall. Tell me you got something." Sherlock started investigating the dead body with his own eyes, listening to the girl's autopsy report. "She died two days ago - Some guy said she cut her hand on a rusty nail --"

"Yes, so, if Tetanus bacteria enters the bloodstream, goodnight Vienna." Sherlock concluded for himself. "How long would the bacteria have been incubating inside her?"

"8 - 10 days." John found himself answering before anyone else - He was intrigued just like the others.

"I don't know if it helps, but she's got some puncture points on her forehead - I'm assuming Botox or some kind of hyaluronic acid; There's scratch marks on her arm, definitely indicative of cat claw marks." she pointed towards those aspects. "Also... I didn't find any Tetanus symptoms on her, nor did I see anything at the microscope around that area - In fact, that hand wound is clean - I think it was done post-mortem, to confuse you." Katrina stalled for a few seconds. "But if you're sure Tetanus killed her, it needed another entry point, at least a week prior." she stopped for a few seconds, looking at the body. "I think either the Botox shots or the cat's claws. Those were the only obvious entry points." though it seemed Sherlock's mind gears  were working intensely, he didn't speak a single word on the case.

"I think I've got it." the man nodded his head - Yes. Botox. He's got more important things to check on. "Thanks for the help. Job well done. Gotta go--"

"Hey!" the girl cried out after him as soon as he tried to rush out. "Are you not going to tell me anything at all? Why are you leaving me out of all these cases?" the man looked down at her - She looked upset and a sparkle of betrayal mixed with disappointment gleamed her gorgeous eyes. "Do you not trust me anymore? Or am I not useful to you? What's going on -- Sherlock, this concerns me well enough, I--"

"Stay low and don't leave the house more often than it's necessary - Not that it would save you from him - But at least a faux sense of security, I suppose." he sounded like a robot, rather than a human; Even the inflexions in his voice disappeared. "He is playing this game with me - Not with you. For now, at least. Fan of ours or not, he's getting bored faster than I am - It's only a matter of time before he's schemed up a new game for you." it was then that she realised, in spite of his cold voice and harsh tonality, Sherlock Holmes was worried about her.

"... Alright, Sherlock. If you need me, I'm just a ring away." John looked at the defeated woman - She still smiled, and her voice was mellow and sweet; He couldn't understand why Sherlock was dismissing her so quickly - She'd been such brilliant help!

"Sherlock --" John asked, trying to keep up with the detective's long strides. "Raven's right - Why are you excluding her from all this?"

"Moriarty's thrown her in front of death twice now - Let's not make it a third. Until we've ended this bomberman game, I'd rather not have to worry about playing hero." harsh, very harsh, but still, the intentions were there.

"Why don't you have your brother's people keep surveillance on her? You said he's the British Government - Surely, he could keep her safe... Right?" based on the troubled look on the detective's face, the medic realised he had already thought of that. "...Right?!" the answer was uncertain - And Sherlock would rather not risk it. Rivalry aside - Even Mycroft wasn't safe from Moriarty and his influence.

That evening, Katrine met up with James again, at the internet cafe nearby; She brought over the USB stick so they could test out the game; She told him all about the bugs and what she tweaked around - He seemed thrilled of it all; And then, he showed Sherlock's blog, and the three peculiar posts. "I've heard all about the bombings - But I can't figure out; Sherlock's posts are... I can't understand them - And John hadn't updated his own either. I was hoping... Maybe... You'd fill me up on this?"

"Oh, yes, sure!" the girl smiled chipper - At least that way to be involved. "I don't know the whole thing very well - Sherlock hardly let's me into the cases. I think he's afraid I'll become a collateral victim of out bomber." she sighed, yet her smile didn't disappear.

"That dangerous?" he gasped. "Well - It's a bombing, I guess that's nothing to joke about. It's quite scary -- And then those twelve people dead in the gas leak... I heard people talking - They said it was the bomber." he continued lightly. "Do you think... Sherlock failed the last game?"

Katrina frowned, looking at the blog - The latest post explained the killing toxin was, once again, Clostridium botulinum. "No. He got it right. And he got it just in time." she muttered to herself. "The hostage... I heard it was an old, blind woman. She must have broke Moriarty's rules. Since they only communicate by phoning on that phone... Maybe she said something." she stroked her chin, her eyes fixated on the monitor. "Why would Moriarty have the same killing method twice... Was it to confuse the investigation...? How silly." she hummed to herself. 

"Sorry?" realised how confused she was making him, she shook her head and smiled at him.

"Forgive me, I got caught up in my thoughts!" she became chipper again. "The first case about Sherlock's first case, 20 years ago. There was a swimming champion kid who drowned, and our only clue was the pair of shoes left behind. We found Clostridium botulinum on the shoelaces. It's a powerful neurotoxin, it got into his bloodstream through his eczema, and by the time he was in the pool, his muscles paralysed." Jim was looking at her in complete awe. "Second one... I know nothing about it. Sherlock didn't involve me at all in that one. As for the third one... That TV show host got regular botox injections, I suppose done at home by this guy, whoever he was - And he must have upped the dose, and she died or something."

"He must really be afraid for your safety, if he's keeping you in the dark so much." he turned his head to look at her. "Reckon he's investigating another one now?" 

Katrina sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "I think so, yes. The phone peeped 5 times during the first case, 4 times next, and then 3 times. I'd wager there's two more puzzles left - One he's working on right now, and the other... Well, what do I know. I suppose I'll never know."

 "Well - Maybe it's for the best." the girl's seraphic visage featured a most confused expression. "For you, I mean - As long as you're alive, you can continue hunting cases, right? You said it yourself - You've had enough near-death experiences. Maybe let the hero act for those who don't fear death?"

"... Not like I have much to live for anyway." the girl found herself muttering quite miserably, before flipping the subject back to the game.

Two days passed, and Katrina was preparing for a pool party. James invited her, saying some work colleagues invited him and Molly over. Might as well indulge a little - She loved swimming, yet she hadn't done it in quite a while. The location was a little off - Not quite the resort she expected - But perhaps they got free access to this inside pool, so why not profit off of it?

Hair done nicely, make up on fleek, and a lovely pink summer dress on, Katrina slowly entered the building, searching for the pool - However, the discovery froze the blood in her veins once she opened the doors, and Jim the IT guy was waiting for her most gallantly - Like a super villain, wearing an expensive suit - And threatening the hero and his sidekick. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were there.

"H-Hello..." her voice was meek, despite how much she tried to keep herself in check; Her smile was trembling a little as she patted her dress and carefully stepped towards them. "You look good in a suit - But, uh... Not an appropriate outfit for a pool party, is it?"

"Might have missed the memo - Sorry!" the man giggled dryly. "Just kidding. We were waiting for you - And what better flower to pluck from the garden, then the gardener's favourite blue beauty? Little Disney Princess with the blue hair - Couldn't possibly find a better weakness for our hero, could we? To think he'd fall for you so quickly - Ha! Hilarious!" the villain pranced forwards, grabbing the girl's arm roughly, pulling her towards the center - In front of the two men; He embraced her tightly from behind.

"What the hell are you doing here -- Didn't I tell you to stay the hell at home?!" unexpectedly, Sherlock yelled at her - No one, not even himself, would have expected such a harsh reaction out of him, addressing her. "Who the hell goes to a school pool at midnight, for goodness' sake - Are you out of your mind?!" his loud, echoing voice made the girl's body jump in fear - Right, she was very sensitive to noises. Slipped his mind. "Raven - That... That is Moriarty." he tried again, minding his voice this time.

"W-Well, I, uh-- I... I fixed your game, James. And... I finished it. I... I thought you'd be happy to hear that." Sherlock could see the soft tremble of her body as she dug her hand in her purse, pulling out a USB stick. "72 GB stick - You can keep it. Pretty expensive."

"Right...! How lovely of you! Truly, a work of wonder!" he laughed, snatching away the stick from her hand and putting it in his pants pocket. "Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock." Moriarty grinned, pressing his cheek against her own; One hand was gripping her jaw, while the other was tightly around her wrist - He looked like a puppeteer holding a pretty marionette doll. "You don't get it, do you? Dear Miss Raven - Who, in fact, is Dear Miss Kitty-Kat, in case you weren't aware - You might be smart, Sherlock, but you'll never match her intuition!" Moriarty could see the way his jaw muscles twitched, the more the grip on the girl tightened, making her whimper in pain. "She knew who I was the moment she met me!" his laugh in her ear made her twitch again.

"Did you have your fun, James?" her soft voice stood out. "Did you enjoy tormenting me? Humiliating me? Playing me - Knowingly?" she continued onwards. "I let you exploit my loneliness, my weakness." Sherlock's speculation was unfortunately true - Her only weakness was, after all, her loneliness. "I won't apologise for it - I had fun with you. I enjoyed myself. I didn't care whether you were faking it or not - You never seemed to me like the 'Jim from IT' that you showed to Molly... You always seemed like 'James' to me. Witty, clever, interesting, passionate, and a bit of a geek. Very charming." she went on, unapologetic, yet somewhat resigned to her fate. "So tell me - I believe I'm entitled to know by now - What is it that you want with me?"

Moriarty wolf-whistled, continuing with a dramatical cackle. "I had so much fun hearing you tell me all about those cases - Truly, it was fascinating - And so madly in love!" he hummed, swaying a little back and forth, as if to dance. "I just wanted to play match-maker, you see? Just like Barbie and Ken - And it worked! Am I not just the Cupid himself?" he grinned wickedly, looking straight into Sherlock's blue eyes. "No matter how much I liked to play with you, Barbie - You would always gravitate towards Ken - And the reverse was true also! Oh, the face Sherlock made when he heard you and I are close friends - That we see each other every morning!" the hand from her jaw went into her hair, twirling around a strand of her beautiful blue hair... Mimicking what she'd do unconsciously when she was speaking of the very detective. "Do you know she always does this cutesy thing when she's talking about you? A woman in love is soooo radiant, isn't she?" she pulled on that very strand of hair. "If I'd known the two of you would fall over each other like that, I'd have just courted you instead of poor, desperate Molly Hooper. Not that it would have worked, I know that much - But it would have been absolutely hilarious!" 

Sherlock couldn't stand seeing Moriarty torment Katrina like that - He just couldn't. It took so much power to keep his self-restraint up and not slip. First, John had a bomb vest, and now this. Through her whimpering and trembling, the fear and anxiety, she still continued speaking in the same serene voice, albeit a little shaky. "You still didn't answer me. What is your motive?" "Why does everything need to have a reason?" he taunted her, moving around her joints, only for her to snatch her arm back from his grasp and stumble backwards a few feet - The way she was holding herself defensive, and that look on her face resembling a terrified, wounded cat - This wasn't her first time being roughed up like that. "EVERYTHING has a reason! Why are Days and Nights alternative, and there's never two days or two nights consecutively? The rotation of the Earth! Why do streams flow the way they do? Because gravity makes them go downhill. Why do people always wake up, and then feel the need to go back to sleep, in the same 24 hour interval? Because of the circadian rhythm! Why does the heart pump? Because of the sino-atrial node! There is ALWAYS a reason for everything!" the girl refuted without backing down, which seemed to make him grin.

"Everything has a reason, yes, just like your reactions - You don't like being touched, do you? Men scare you. Loud, burly, gruff and terrifying. One hand can engulf your neck and snap it like a dove. You're so small and frail, a delicate little flower, there is no way you could fight off a man, am I right~?" he knew her fears, her past - And he knew just how to mock her.

"Since you simply confirmed what I said - Will you tell me now why you are messing with me?" with some self-control, she forced herself to straighten her spine, and try to hide how terrified she was - At least on a surface level. "Because I was BORED!" the last word was roared, and it resounded painfully through the pool; Katrina slapped her hands over her ears and half-crouched in pain. Moriarty continued in his normal, soothing voice. "Life is boring without competition or some puppets to fool around with! You know better, what is Batman without the Joker, and vice-versa? And how is being bored a relevant, rational reason?" he asked, throwing his hands into the air.

"Humans are emotional beings, thus, irrational at best, unpredictable at worst. You can come up with statistics and probabilities to figure out, yet, but you can never know for sure -- Even you are not always solely driven by ration, are you? -- Not to mention, I don't know any comics in which the Joker kills Batman; In fact, it is Batman's sidekick who ends up killing Joker. So how will killing any of us benefit you - You'll just get bored all over again, and we both know there is no one out there would could play into your nefarious fascinations like Sherlock could... Isn't that right... The Notorious James the Hackerman." the exchange between those two was putting Sherlock on edge - They were far too friendly with each other, in the worst ways - They knew too much about each other, understood too well. This was only bound to end up horribly wrong.

"And what would you have me do, exactly?" he raised his eyebrow, provoking.  "Let them go, that's what I would have you do! Sherlock AND John! Both of them. Let them live." came her bold answer, hissed through gritted teeth. "Raven, don't-" Sherlock tried to speak, only to get shushed by both herself and James. For once, he would be a liability, not aid. "But that would be BORING! I can't have that, can I? Instead, I can mess around with you, and in turn, that messes with Sherlock! I've already used John as bait, put bombs on him, and boy, that was FUN! But you? Oh ho ho ho, you could be top-star entertaining for me!" he grinned, stepping forward and pulling her back towards him, his grip on her arms painfully tight, just like an abusive ex-boyfriend trying to control you.

"Let go of me, James! You know I hate being touched - It's not gentlemanly!" she tried to wiggle away from his grasp.

"Oh, how quaint, hiding your fears and trauma behind the facade of the stereotype of a gallant and chivalrous British gentleman!" his grinned was poisonous, and his warm doe eyes were dark like an abysmal void, an infinite purgatory. "Sherlock Holmes, the charming hero saving the Damsel in Distress - You love those kind of romantic stories, don't you? It's been your fairytale dream since you were a little girl - To live a mundane life, fall in love, and whatever it is that little girls do. I made the scenario perfectly, didn't I - Little Magnolia Flower." maybe it was the nerves, or her fear, or maybe even the simple fact that she was touched and the grip was hurting her; The stress, the situation, the betrayal... Everything made her snap.

"I SAID - DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!" 

Time stopped for the four players - The loud echo of a strike was followed by the red handprint displayed on Jim Moriarty's left cheek, along with the murderous look on his face - But that was not all, for a fire was discharged, and suddenly, Katrina's gorgeous pink dress was actively being dyed a deep, crimson red.  She couldn't hear her two friends calling out her name, the shock was overwhelming. The strength of the bullet made her stumble backwards, and her wide, wet eyes weren't kind or joyful anymore - They were terrified and in agony, staring into his black eyes. Empty she thought - At first, at least... In spite of her petrified state of mind, and excruciating pain, she could spot one thing in that nothingness - Shock. He didn't plan for this. He didn't want this. He didn't want her dead.

"J-James... Wh-... Why...?" she coughed up violently, blood smearing down her chin, splurting everywhere; Her lady-like facade was destroyed " I will skin alive the idiot who sniped without my approval!" Moriarty voice mimicked a feral growl as he lunged forward, catching her in his arms, keeping her up like a rag doll;  "What did you do to her, you, monster?!" John shouted at the psychopath, who only chuckled, looking down and feeling the woman's strength, as he was gripping into his clothes to stand up, get more and more lax. "Me? Nothing! You saw very well, I didn't do anything to her!. But oh, the look of horror on your faces... It was SO worth it! If only I had known that's all that it took to shake the great Sherlock Holmes, I'd-" he kept on rambling, but the girl's weak voice interrupted him. "Let them go." albeit it was whispery and lacking strength, it had a certain sternness to it - She repeated it, staring into his eyes, fixed, almost like a broken record, which seemed to annoy him a great deal, as he turned twirled her around, so gracefully, as if they were dancing, until the tips of her heeled shoes reached the edge of the pool; She was halfway falling into the pool, were it not for him holding her up, hovering over the clear water. "What do you REALLY want? You love Sherlock, you'd rather have him live, don't you? You couldn't care less if John lives or dies, he isn't that important to you. You saw very well how the person most important to you started ghosting you. Lea, was it? You don't believe in the kindness of people anymore, so don't be hypocritical!" he smirked as he started fiddling with his phone. "Your sweet act is failing, Kitty-Kat. Your kindness is fake." "...I win." she chuckled mirthfully, despite the burning pain that was electrifying through her whole body. "...You... What?" Moriarty frowned, confusion painted on his face.

"I win. I made you worry. You care about me. You just called an ambulance, to make sure I live. You could have harmed, tortured, killed or you could have even used Molly as bait, but you didn't. Likewise, you could have done the same to me, but guess what? You didn't! In that psychopathic mind of yours, you actually enjoyed my presence. It may or may not have been kinda fun, in your own... Twisted... Nefarious logic." she laughed serenely, almost like a lunatic. "Admit it, James, you don't want me dead. You could have, but you didn't, so therefore, you wo-... AHHH!" she must have really angered Moriarty by calling him out, for he started pressing on her stomach, where her wound was; Her legs were giving up, as tears of agony were streaming down her face. Still, she forced a grin on her face. "No. You didn't win. You will never win, not the way you are now. Good girls NEVER win. You think you really read me? You think you know me? How ridiculously arrogant of you! You don't know nearly as much as you think you do." he hissed through his teeth, his grip on her making his knuckles go white. "I'll have to admit, it was pretty fun while it lasted. Any last words?" he asked, smiling mockingly. "Let. THEM. Live." she grasped his tie, and with her last powers, she dragged herself up close to his eyes level, which seemed to piss him off. "Playing off the martyr for these two won't impress me, Kitty-Kat. You were just a declawed cat who would have benefitted from some rabies. Alas, you became a scarf for the wicked." he smirked down at her, any hint of emotion vanishing from his eyes. "I truly hope you know how to swim, otherwise... Yellow submarine, Yellow submarine." he finished in a singing voice, and knowing this was it, she merely snorted in amusement, smirking weakly. "Sherlock does." and with that, a look of rage flashed his face as he pushed her into the pool.

Her eyes were stinging from the chlorine, her vision blurry and the lights were quickly dimming; She was engulfed in velvety ribbons of scarlet, swirling around her body; She was falling down, to the bottom of the pool, with only her mermaid blue hair embracing her. No oxygen could reach her brain, and her nerves were screeching in agony - Not even the cold of the water could properly numb away her torture.

Her last thoughts were on Sherlock playing the hero and saving her, John giving her first aid, and the ambulance arriving just in time to stabilise her condition before getting her to the hospital for surgery - But she couldn't hope. She wasn't afraid, nor was she panicking; She was growing numb, as if she was falling asleep. Darkness was taking over her vision and confusion was afflicting her consciousness. This was the beautiful death she wished for, just like Ophelia drowning in the Thames, her face gorgeous, her outfit beautiful, a smile on her face, and her tragic fate.

Perhaps Sherlock was right - The more beautiful a lady, the more tragic her life.

Before she passed out, she saw a blurry figure, and felt two strong arms embracing her; Her body didn't scream, as it did with Moriarty - She knew who this was - The one man who didn't frighten her. The one man whose embrace felt like the safest haven. The one man who valued her entirely for who she was.

Sherlock Holmes saved his Damsel in Distress from the clutches of death three times, and each time, he delivered her to safety by holding her in his arms.

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[alcottsangel]

Sherlock Library

Touch and Go

A series of encounters with a certain sexy silver-fox Detective Inspector.

My Favorite Neighbor

Based on BBCSherlock Imagines: "Imagine making a gingerbread house together with Lestrade" and "Imagine baking Christmas cookies with Lestrade."

Love and Law

Greg is jealous of Mark Darcy.

The Death of a Bachelor

When Y/N had received a text inviting her to John Watson’s stag night, she didn’t know what to expect, but certainly not this. John was here, of course, Sherlock and Greg. No one else. She first thought other people would come later, but two hours in, they were still four, and she was wondering if they would stay that way till the end of the night.

Sherlock (BBC) Reader Inserts

Collection of reader inserts about the Sherlock BBC boys.

Sherlock One shots

Collection of reader inserts.

Sexy Times For Every Fandom

Your boyfriend, Greg Lestrade, convinces you to call in sick to work because he has different plans for your day.

[calaisreno]

The Client

936 words / Prompt: Secret

Mary looks at the chair. John can’t be serious. “Why?”

The look he gives her is terrible. She knows his temper, but this is the first time she’s seen Captain Watson, who could shoot a man and have no trouble sleeping afterwards. 

“Because that’s where they sit,” he whispers fiercely. “You’re a client now, Mary. That’s all you are. That’s where you sit and talk, and we listen and decide if we want you or not.”

Sherlock is looking sort of grey. She wonders how he managed to sneak out of the hospital and set this up. Was it really necessary? Did he not think that John would believe him?

Her husband—well, the marriage probably isn’t legal, and now that he knows he’s married to a woman who’s been lying since the day they met, he’s obviously not going to stay. Right now, he can’t even look at her. 

Sherlock nods at her. She’s not sure why he’s trying to help her. Or why she didn’t kill him when she had a chance. She was rattled, or she would have done it properly, and this conversation wouldn’t be happening. 

She thought she was finally safe. John is exactly the kind of man she would marry. If Sherlock hadn’t come back, they could have been happy. John is angry now, and it’s not all about her. He’s in love with Sherlock, and it’s something he can’t admit, even to himself. 

Maybe she should have simply disappeared. 

She still could.

“You know what?” She stands in front of John’s chair, glaring down at him. “Forget this bullshit. Open your eyes, John. This—” She pats her belly. “It isn’t real. There’s no baby.” 

He sits up, wide-eyed now.

She smirks. “Don’t pretend you didn’t suspect. You didn’t want to believe it, so you stopped paying attention.”

John’s speechless for a moment, then stammers. “But… why would you do that?”

“Without the baby, I would have lost you.” She turns to Sherlock. “Thanks, but I’ll handle Magnussen on my own.” 

Picking up her handbag, she walks towards the door. On the threshold she turns and gives her parting shot. “Pull your heads out of your arses, boys. See ya.”

John stares after her until they hear the door downstairs slam. He turns to Sherlock. “What the hell just happened?”

Sherlock tries to push himself up from his chair. “John… I think…”

Heavy feet are clattering up the stairs. John looks towards the door, where the paramedics have appeared. 

“Did somebody call an ambulance?”

Sherlock gasps. “Did you bring any morphine?”

A week later…

BBC News. According to Detective Greg Lestrade of Scotland Yard, the investigation into the death of media mogul Charles Augustus Magnussen has turned up no clues to the identity of his killer, or how they came to Appledore, his residence. Security footage is being examined, but the killer obviously knew their target and took care not to be caught on camera. All leads will be pursued, he says, but it appears to be a professional job.

Months later…

“You know, Sherlock, we didn’t need to have such a big wedding.”

“Don’t say that to Mummy. It’s always been her ambition to plan one. And I’m finding I don’t mind it so much.”

“I don’t even know half of these people. Other than Harry, I assume they’re all your relatives.”

“Most are. And acquaintances. My parents have a lot of friends.”

“Mycroft looks… well, less dyspeptic than usual.”

“Every feast needs a spectre, John.”

“Oh, look, he’s talking with Greg. And he’s actually smiling.”

“Who?”

“Oh, give it up, Sherlock. Greg Lestrade.”

“Ah, yes. They do seem rather… friendly. Interesting…”

“Who’s the woman with the hair?”

“All the women have hair, John. Not a single bald woman in the hall. Oh, I see. Looks like a wig. Probably some mystery relative. She’s talking with my cousin Pansy. Mummy will know.”

“Not important. Just… she seems familiar. Look, here’s Harry. Glad she made it this time.”

“Harry! Come here—I need to dance with my sister-in-law.”

“All right, Sherlock—does this mean Johnny gets to dance with Mycroft?”

“Absolutely not! I’m not dancing with Mycroft, even if he’s secretly running the country.”

“Well, your loss. Come on, Sherlock. John says you’re a good dancer. Let me see you get your boogie on.”

“My what?”

“Mrs Holmes! This is all lovely. Thank you so much.”

“Of course, John! And please, you must call me Viola. Where’s your husband?”

“He’s dancing with Harry. Say, who’s that woman over there with the dark hair and large glasses? She was just talking with Pansy.”

“Oh… I don’t know, John. I thought she was one of yours.”

“No, she’s not. Oh, look, she’s leaving.”

“Honestly, who leaves a wedding early? Sherlock, do come here!”

“Yes, Mummy?”

“It’s your wedding! Dance with your husband, dear! I’m going to look for mine.”

“Gladly. Come here, John.”

“Sherlock, that woman—”

“Yes, John. I know.”

“Does Mycroft know?”

“He told me she was dead. But he’s been wrong about dead people before.”

“Why do you think she came here?”

“You mean, why did she crash our wedding? I think she just wanted to make sure you’re fine. That we’re fine.”

“Is this what she meant by ‘get your heads out of your arses’?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, I’m glad she’s not vengeful.”

“No, I don’t believe she is. And I don’t bear her any ill-will.”

“No? Hm. I do, just a bit. But tonight, I only want to think about you.”

“Do you? Then I’ll just have to keep your attention, won’t I?”

“You always do, love.”

--

All my May Prompts 2024 can be read on AO3 here.

[aworldofgoldfish]

Written for @mystradepromptsandscenarios "Are we out of the woods?"

360mg format

Or read in AO3 here

Deleted Data [G]

"Are we out of the woods?"

"I think we are strolling down the river in an Amazonian rainforest." 

"That bad?"

John shrugged before shaking his head. Sherlock, despite his brilliance, was often a dimwit. "A bit worse."

"Not good?"

"Sherlock..."

"It's not as if I can't..." He pouted, thinking the situation over. "Mycroft is patty under my fingers."

John considered it. Sherlock wasn’t wrong per se. "Then why...? No, you know what? I don't care. You may have Mycroft around your little finger, but his whole being is wrapped around Greg."

"Not an image I wanted to have, John."

"Well, the image I have is of assassins at the building in the opposite street, ready to shoot to kill."

"Mycroft wouldn't shoot me."

"You? Shoot to maim. Me? Certainly kill."

"Mycroft likes you."

"What? Really?"

"No, let me think about it. Truly, he tolerates you for my sake.” In the meantime, Sherlock, hidden behind the curtains, was staring outside the window for any threat. “What I don’t understand is when he became so emotionally attached to Lestrade. Greg’s a good man, and a steady…” he stumbled over the word. “‘Friend’, I guess, if one goes for such things, and apparently I do, but him being shot isn’t something to generate the kind of emotional reaction Mycroft exhibited in the hospital.”

“Sherlock, what?”

“Lestrade didn’t bleed to death, no major organs were harmed, no internal bleeding, no hit on the head. He’s going to be fine.”

“In half a year or so,” John interrupted him, eyes large as saucers.

“Yes, but still. Mycroft was acting derangedly. And that particular behaviour is always because of me.” 

John watched him stomping around the room, blue robe billowing behind him as if he was Snape. “It’s been years since Greg was added to the list of people Mycroft Holmes acts deranged for.”

Green eyes narrowed at him. “What? Why?

“I think it has something to do with the fact they have gotten married.”

“Who’s gotten married?”

“Mycroft and Greg.”

Sherlock stood right in front of him still as a broom processing the new -old deleted- data. “They haven’t.” Until… “Oh God, they've gotten married.”

[starkraivennemad]

The Beginning Calm

D.I. Greg Lestrade put up with a lot for the services of "World's Only Consulting Detective" Sherlock Holmes. His biting sarcasm, vicious diatribes, and insults to his intelligence. And that was nice compared to what came out of the genius’ mouth when it comes to his team. Not to mention Sherlock’s near childlike glee in flaunting his often barely legal antics with the law. But he and the team, okay mostly just he, tolerated it. Why? Because like it or not - he did, his team did not – at the end of the day, the man got results. Sherlock got the results which got Greg the arrests needed to get criminals off the streets, and the solid convictions that kept them off.

It was not easy dealing with Sherlock Holmes, or his even bigger pain in the arse brother Mycroft but it was worth it. Still, Greg would not lie if he did not wish it could be a bit calmer in the chaos.

Thus, you could have knocked Greg over with a feather once John Watson entered the picture. In less than twenty-four hours of the doctor knowing the genius, Greg had started to note small differences.

Sherlock, when realizing he might have messed up, looked to John for guidance. “Not good?”

John, realizing Sherlock really did not understand, was patient, “Bit not good, yeah.”

Granted, Sherlock was back to his unthinking ways not even a moment later.

Sherlock: “Yeah, but if you were dying ... if you’d been murdered: in your very last few seconds what would you say?”

John” “Please, God, let me live.”

Sherlock: “Oh, use your imagination!”

Greg noted how the doctor, with a mere look and a softly spoken rebuke, “I don’t have to…,” had Sherlock briefly taken aback for his thoughtlessness again. Greg could count on one hand how often that worked between him and Sherlock.

By the end of the night, Greg understood this doctor was only the beginning of something very different for Sherlock.

When a certain black sedan still idled at the curve, he knew what it meant. He walked up minutes later, hearing as the rear window lowered.

“So, have you warehoused him yet?” Greg asked.

“And good evening to you, Detective Inspector Lestrade.” Mycroft retorted drolly.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… Can’t prove it, don’t want to, but I know he just shot a man and that saved your brother’s life.”

“Interesting. For that I will answer your question, yes, he was warehouse earlier this evening. ”

“And he hadn’t go running for the hills after?”

“Neither had you, Lestrade.” Mycroft reminded him. “You, Dr. Hooper, Mrs. Hudson are the only ones to do so. ”

“What does not fear you, has what it takes to deal with your brother it seems.” Greg mused. “Watson calms him…”

“Him? John Watson, CALMS, my brother? That’s just not possible!”

“Don’t worry, your capricious little brother will always be a right prat. That’s never changing.” Greg turned to head back to the crime scene. “Goodnight, Mr. Holmes.”  

“I’m not done speaking, Inspector Lestrade.”

“Too bad, I have work to do. I’m done not listening to you.” Greg walked away smugly.

He heard Mycroft’s scoff as the window went up again. “Watson calms Sherlock? The inspector is mad!”

He could not fault the older brother’s disbelief, given they were talking about Sherlock. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction John and Sherlock had walked as if he still saw the long-gone men and chuckled to himself.

“Yeah, he’s a prat, but I think someday, if we’re lucky with John, he just might become less of one.”

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

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@calaisreno @MayPrompts2024

#MayPrompts2024 - Prompt 7: Calm

[mimisempai]

All those words I almost didn't say

Summary

After one of the most traumatic days of his life, Greg is about to take a well-deserved rest when the doorbell rings. The day is about to take a much happier turn.

Notes

Mystrade Monday  1.0  #46 - "I thought you were dead"

@mystradepromptsandscenarios

On AO3

669 words - Rating G

"Detective Lestrade, after your bravery today, I want you to take a week's leave."

Greg, too emotionally exhausted, didn't even protest and nodded to the Superintendent before leaving his office.

An hour later, he was finally home, dressed in comfortable clothes, beer in hand, about to sit down when the doorbell rang.

He sighed, put his beer down on the coffee table, and looked through the glass to see who was there to bother him.

Seeing who it was, he muttered, "Damn it, Mycroft, I forgot to call him."

Words of apology on his lips, he opened the door, but he didn't have time to say anything because no sooner had he opened it than he found himself in a powerful embrace, pressed against Mycroft's chest.

"Mycroft, what..." he managed to articulate.

But Mycroft cut him off, saying in a trembling voice, "I thought you were dead. For a brief moment I actually thought I was watching you die live and there was nothing I could do."

Greg had never seen Mycroft like that, shaking, his throat so tight with emotion that he almost choked on the last words.

Greg managed to break free of the embrace and said quietly, "I know... thank my Kevlar vest for that,  I can imagine what it must have looked like from the outside. I'm sorry with everything that happened and the chain of events, I completely forgot to call you and I just got home."

Greg knew there had been a lot of media coverage of the hostage situation, but he'd refused to look at the footage. Who wanted to see themselves shot in the chest, even if it had been stopped by a bulletproof vest?

The bruise that began to form on his chest was proof enough.

He continued, "I promise I'm okay. I'm all right."

But Mycroft wasn't listening and said quietly, "Show me."

Greg lifted his shirt and showed him where the impact had occurred. 

Mycroft ran his finger gently over the small bruise and breathed, "I almost lost you."

Greg interrupted, "But you didn't..."

Mycroft put his finger to Greg's lips and interrupted, "Let me speak. I have to tell you."

Greg looked at him puzzled, but said nothing.

Mycroft took Greg's face in his hands and said firmly, "When I thought you were dead, I realized there was so much I wanted you to know that I hadn't been able to tell you. That these last few months with you have been the happiest of my life. That I don't want to spend another minute away from you. I'm in love with you, mightily, painfully in love. The things you do. The way you think. The way you move. I get thrilled every time I'm about to see you. I feel like I've never felt in my life. You have to know all of that."

No sooner had he finished speaking than he gave Greg no time to react, pressing his lips to his lover's in a kiss filled with the same intensity as the words he'd just spoken. Greg instinctively wrapped his arms around Mycroft's waist, deepening the kiss. 

Every time Mycroft felt Greg trying to pull away, Mycroft would press harder against him and Greg would submit because he knew Mycroft needed it after the fear he'd just had of losing Greg.

He didn't even know how long it had been since Mycroft had pressed his lips to his. But it wasn't until they both felt they couldn't breathe that Mycroft slowly pulled away, just enough for them to catch their breath.

They were panting, mouth to mouth, their breath hot and their pulse quickening from the kiss they'd just shared. Greg swallowed several times before he could speak, finally able to respond to Mycroft's declaration and whispered under his breath, "I love you."

Mycroft embraced him again, holding him close, and they stayed like that for a long time in the hallway of Greg's apartment. 

They'd told each other everything.

The rest could wait.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

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