#guard me sherlock james | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kisslandeds · 1 year ago

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[̲̅T]here's a stillness in the atmosphere of the auditorium, and a heavy languor that pervades the circumambient air. It's a rather lethargic Tuesday morning, a rather laid-back day for Bella, who'd been somnolent since she'd woken up. Despite her indolence, it was necessary she tackle the day. She had several errands to run after rehearsal, and she was more than nervous for them. Regardless, Bella is an early bird, and like usual, she's at work before anyone else.

Bella figured, as she ambulates across the stage of the regal opera house, that she might as well use this time to rehearse her lines again. She stands in the middle of the vast stage, in a field of light reflections. Being right in the heart of the auditorium helped her visualize an audience, perhaps serving as an incentive for her.

Before her were thousands of seats, vermillion in colour and sewn from the finest textiles. There were levels of seats, balconies of them, just waiting to be filled with people and ovation. Alabaster pillars and delicate marble pillars complete the architecture of the house, perhaps derived from works of the Renaissance era. The lambency from the balcony lights shoot diamonds from the gloss of the stage floor, it felt like a garden of crystals just right beneath her.

With a deep breath, Bella closed her eyes. Opening them again, she is greeted with visions of thousands of people filling up the empty seats in front of her, an animated audience clapping and cheering. Such a sight would never grow old to Bella. This view, after all, paid her bills and gave her a motive to keep acting. She loved it, adored it. Despite being a job, she never got tired of entertainment, she never grew bored of being on stage.

For a moment, the ambient was stentorian during Bella's reverie, palpable, even, before silence catches up with her once more and breaks the unreal utopia before her.

Just before Bella reached for her purse to retrieve her folded script, a bright light flashes in front of her, a luminaire so blinding she instinctively shuts her eyes and covers them with the palm of her hand. The main stage light moves across the stage, and the once still ambience of the auditorium was now completely gone.

Before Bella has a chance to react to the rush of fright that moments before filled her stomach, she notices a figure among the cavernous seats, juxtaposed between them. Gradually, it gets larger, as if moving closer to her. Given the events that had been happening in her life, she had every reason to believe she was in danger. A rather disconcerting emotion overtakes Bella.

"My Belladonna! I knew you'd be here, you're always here at 9:30 AM without fault!" A rather flamboyant masculine voice reverberates across the empty theatre. Just like that, the quiet atmosphere had been cut through with a knife.

"Simon," Bella gets up from the stage, a sigh of relief escaping her glossed lips. "Good morning. You're in a good mood today, aren't you? Why are you in so early? You're not here until 10." She inquires, walking across the stage and watching as Simon, her agent, trots down the stairs at the side of the auditorium to get to the pit. She pretends as if moments before she was completely shaken by his entrance.

"Oh dear," Simon's voice is high in several octaves, and his visage is rather grave. "Today has to be a busy day I tell you! We have to make sure you're on your A-game, baby!"

"You're making me anxious, Simon."

"You ought to be anxious," Simon finally reaches the pit before climbing up the stage as if to intensify what he was about to say. "Bella, those casting directors that watched your rehearsal yesterday were in awe at your work! They want to schedule lunch and talk business!"

"My Gods, Simon," Bella sighs. "You don't think a simple text could've sufficed? You know how much you make me nervous when you look so serious."

Simon gives out a small chuckle, his dark skin wrinkles as he smiles. "I'm sorry, Bella," his eyes twinkle, the gold eyeliner on his eyelid shimmers in the light of the luminescence filling the house. "You know how much your success means to me."

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Simon, I don't mean to get all serious," Belladonna apologizes for being so apprehensive. "Today's a big day for me. I'm finally going to see someone to talk about these weird things going on."

"That's great!" Simon adjusts his scarf. "You let me know how that goes," he clears his throat, "anyway, I'd like you to get ready for rehearsal. Your costar will be here any minute now. Remember, your A-game today, ma'am!"

Quick to brush it off, huh, Belladonna quips to herself. I guess I shouldn't share my business.

With a forced smile, Bella saunters off to get ready for rehearsal.

II.

"Beautiful, beautiful," Simon claps, he is as preppy as a schoolgirl. "Brava, bravissimo! I could shed a tear."

After enduring painful hours of wearing a tight corset and having to act out intense emotions, Bella was to say the least, exhausted. Her visage was glossed with sweat, her stage makeup fading away with the hours of wear. From arriving at the auditorium at 9:30 AM, it was now 3 PM. Despite this, it didn't matter to her. Her role had to be perfect, it was imperative she mastered her character. If that meant staying overnight rereading the same lines over and over again, it was a condition she was willing to endure. Of course, Bella's most critical audience was herself.

"I think I am moved," Simon wipes away doubtful tears from underneath his painted eyes. "Truly, I have never seen another Christine so remarkable!" Simon turns to Bella's male counterpart. "And you! You make a wonderful phantom!"

The play that had demanded so much of Bella's time and energy was the classic, 'The Phantom of the Opera.' To be frank, it was a rather challenging role for Bella, having to act out all these intense emotions from the protagonist she plays in such tight clothing and dry conditions of the stage. Not to mention, she was required to sing, and to project your voice across the massive auditorium was no easy task.

"Don't flatter me," Abel, Bella's male costar chimes. "If you're on stage with such a talented actress, naturally, the energy she exudes would motivate anyone to perfect this role." A big, teeth-y smile spreads across his profile.

"Oh, please," Bella laughs. "Don't sensationalize me."

"Don't be so modest!" Abel exclaims. "Although, that is what makes you so charming."

"Mhm," Simon hums. "Bella, I have to get going to meet with some directors. Please, get some beauty sleep. I need you looking youthful and energetic! You seem gloomy today, and we can't have that," Simon is already at the curtain to the backstage, "Don't forget to rehearse your lines, dear. It's not too long 'till opening night." Just as quick as Simon made his ingress this morning, preceded his egress in the same fashion.

As soon as Simon's presence had left the room, the air was much more desolate and did not seem so cheery. The preponderance of his aura now dissipated, and Abel and Bella are alone. It was already 3 PM and Bella had to get going to run her errands. The day was certainly not over here.

"I gotta get going, too," Bella gives in a breathy chuckle, she was starting to suffocate from how tight her corset was. "I'll see you tomorrow, Abel."

Abel nods and elicits a small smile, giving a small wave goodbye as Bella wastes no time to start heading back to her dressing room. The sound of her antique heels reverberate across the theatre, and before it could be gone, Abel stops Bella from sneaking away behind the curtains with a gentle touch to her arm.

"Hey, Bella," Abel says hesitantly, "before you go . . ." he smiles nervously, as if telling himself to confess something, "would you fancy lunch today?"

Bella turns around upon Abel's survey, observing a shy expression dominating his features. He runs his fingers through his quaffed hair, scratching his neck awaiting Bella's response.

"I'm so sorry, Abel!" she commiserates. "I have something today that I just can't put off. Maybe some other day, though."

"Of course." Abel chuckles nervously. "Have a nice afternoon, Bella." Finally, he waves her goodbye, to which she replicates, and that was that.

III.

After rehearsal, Bella had changed into her evening attire and decided to refresh her makeup. After all, she needed to look as presentable as possible today. Her mascara had drooped after hours of wear, and her under-eyes had begun to crease due to her exhaustion. With an anxious exhale, Bella powders her face, cleaning up her makeup to look as awake and fresh as possible. She runs a nude colour liner under her waterline, opening up her eyes as much as she can.

Bella was no stranger to anxiety. As an actress, living alone, she had many things to worry about. However, besides what a person usually worries about nowadays, she had something weighing on her shoulders that she just couldn't handle anymore. She'd been fatigued the past few days with a melancholy feeling reducing the quality of her life, and now she was finally going to get help.

The World's Only Consulting Detective, huh, Bella thinks to herself as she reapplies a pink blush to the roundness of her cheeks. Will you disappoint me, too? Bella sighs, reminded of the contents of the article she'd read on The London Times, the tabloid in which she'd discovered the office of this detective.

❝ Proficiency with observation, deduction, forensic science, and logical reasoning.

At 221B Baker Street

Approved by the Scotland Yard ❞

It was in Bella's best interest that this detective—Sherlock Holmes, would accept her case. She'd grown tired of rejection from local private investigators, brushing off the details as too 'trivial' or of lesser importance than their other cases. Bella would be referred to the Scotland Yard—and that was the last thing she wanted. She wanted to keep the details as private as possible.

Belladonna takes a profound look at herself, subconsciously deep in thought of what could come of today. Her brown eyes glisten with the bright white light of her vanity bulbs, a lustre glazing her pupils. Absentmindedly, she stares at herself, her conscience lingering with nothing but thoughts of the future.

A rhythmic knock catches Bella's unconscious thought. Bella, shaken up, reverts her glance to the door. That's weird, Bella gets up from her chair, I'm not expecting anyone. Could it be Abel again? Simon?

"I'll be there in a second!" Bella grabs her phone from her purse that'd been hanging from a clothing rack. She checks the time, to which it read 3:55 PM. Damn, it's late.

With a sigh, she places her fingers on the doorknob and cautiously opens the door. The door is barely open, but she can tell there is two strong, broad chests. Curiously, she widens the interstice that separates her and the two men.

The men, standing right before her, were none whom she knew.

The man, on the left, wore a white button-up and a black vest. His posture was relaxed, his hands inside the pockets of his dress pants. The man, on the right of Bella, wore a polished 3-piece. The fabric of his vest was deep navy in colour, his button-up was striped and pristine, and his tie was a refined silk, a deep red. Above it all, was a heavy, sculpted dress coat that hung over his robust shoulders. Peculiarly, an arm seemed to be hiding behind his back, as if concealing something.

Although it was impolite, she was rather compelled by his clothing—she couldn't stop herself from staring, and she hadn't yet seen their faces. What piques Bella's interest specifically is his lapel. Near his navy lapel is a brooch, a brooch of a blue rose with an intense hue. It was a beautiful rose, a rose that seemed so fresh in spite of the dry auditorium air. To Bella's curiosity, both men complimented their habiliment with the same brooch as if to insinuate their affiliation.

From first glance, without even a look at their face, it was very evident how well-dressed these men were. However, it wasn't just their vesture that made their appearance so captivating, but rather their very aura. Something palpable radiating off of them, something so tangible. Consider it a very emanation of their preponderant, puissant presence.

Before Bella could open her mouth to speak, realizing how impertinent she'd exhibited herself, her words are adjourned.

"Good afternoon, madam! How does the day find you?" The man, who she had been studying so intently, finally cuts through the silence. His voice is clear, as smooth as silk.

Finally, Bella looks up. The man she'd scrutinized the longest of both looks at her with a cunning expression, a perfectly fitting frame for his chiseled physiognomy. His eyes resembled that of sapphires. The bright, extravagant luminescence from the dressing room emits precious gems from his eyes. Even with such an alluring pair of eyes, it does not undermine the sheer amount of education expressed in them. Unconsciously, and uncontrollably, Bella is gripped onto his physical.

Though she wants to reply to his greeting, she can't seem to get the words out.

"Have I startled you?" The man's eyes, as blue as the brooch he had clipped on his vest, sink into his apricot skin with a chuckle that leaves his pillowed, pink lips. The man's large palm runs through his perfectly styled hair, wrecking his pristine haircut, yet seamlessly rocking the effortless look. "Or, is it that you find my face captivating?"

"I'm sorry. . ." Bella breaks her reticence. "I didn't mean to come off as rude."

"It's quite alright!" The stranger chuckles once more. "You're quite reserved, aren't you? It's rather charming."

In response, Bella reluctantly laughs. Although this encounter was very strange, there was no unnerving feeling that permeates her. In fact, although she was nervous, she felt comfortable. In other words, she wasn't worried for her well-being.

"In any event," he remarks, "I'm quite thrilled to meet you like this. You are much more beautiful in person, Ms. Demie."

"Thank you." Bella replies.

So they know my name, Bella thinks to herself. Although that would be a reason to be alarmed for someone, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary for Bella. After all, she was an actress. Although she wasn't by any means a superstar, she did star in small films that did well in the city, and she would often get recognized for them.

"I cannot express how lovely you look today. I almost wish I could frame you and look at you everyday." Again, the man expresses his adulation.

"Do you want her framed dead or alive? Whatever it is, I'll make it happen, James." The young man, who has not said a word until now, breaks his silence and makes a rather strange remark as his introduction.

Bella reverts her gaze to the other stranger, and she notes how much younger he looks from his affiliate. His face is slightly fuller, more juvenile, and is framed by a full head of brunette locks. The young man's eyes are a deep brown, almost amber when the light reflects it. Underneath his eyes are heavy-sunken circles, although it fits his demeanour. Propped in between his thin lips is a toothpick. "What do you say, James?"

"Oh, Sebastian," the man clicks his tongue. "You're going to scare away Ms. Demie. It was a metaphor. I meant that she's so pretty that I wish I could have her as a decoration. Like roses on a bedside table."

Although nothing but oddities have been elicited from this conversation, Bella gets a feeling they mean no harm. "Pardon me if this sounds rude," Bella clears her throat, blinking nervously. "Who might you two be?"

"Where are my manners? How rude of me, I apologize." The man on the right extends his unoccupied hand, seeing as though there is one hand behind his back. "My name is James Moriarty."

The two exchange a handshake, and Bella becomes cognizant of his skin, flesh that was rather cold, but soft. His grip on her palm was gentle, contradicting his authoritative demeanour. Her fingers brush against several bulky rings that adorned his fingers, encrusted by what had felt like some rough stone.

"I'm a maths professor. I teach at the University of London." James elaborates.

Never heard of him. Bella blinks in acknowledgment, a wavy smile framing her face.

"This is Sebastian," James refers to his cohort. "Go on, introduce yourself to the lady."

Sebastian clears his throat, picking the toothpick out of his mouth and holding it between his pale fingers before chucking it into his breast pocket. "Sebastian Moran," the man exchanges a rather firm handshake. "Former serviceman."

"I must say, you have excellent work, Ms. Demie," James exclaims, following Sebastian's brief introduction. "Your role of Irene Adler in 'Murder Mystery' was truly unprecedented. Marvellous indeed!"

"You mean that crime drama? I remember you forgot to record it once, and you were so mad that someone ended up dead!" Sebastian laughs in amusement.

Bella assumes what he just said is a joke.

"You were cunning, witty, graceful, and clever. You almost made Irene Adler seem like a knockoff when you, Ms. Demie, were on-screen." James has expressed nothing but reverence to Bella, although it's a kind of flattery that seems genuine, and not cheap or artificial.

"Thank you, Mr. Moriarty. I really enjoyed playing Irene. She was my debut character in TV," she states, "I'm really grateful I was able to play her."

"I can see how!" James exclaims. "As you can see, I'm quite the fan. I'd like to offer you something."

With that, James moves the hand that he had hidden away behind his back during the duration of this interaction, divulging a bouquet of an assortment of bright, blue roses, the same as the one he had on his brooch. They looked so fresh, with beads of dew still on them, as if they had just been picked from a vast field. The roses were the epitome of pulchritudinous, Bella had never seen such a thing even in nature. The colour, it seemed almost unearthly.

"Thank you," Bella accepts the flowers, sauntering deeper into her dressing room and placing them inside of a wide, empty vase on her vanity. "I have to ask. . ." she ponders, "how were you able to get in? The theatre is closed all day, unless you got in at the crack of dawn."

"Why, of course, we've been here since morning. Stayed until your rehearsal ended." James says matter-a-factly.

"That can't be. . ." Bella takes a long pause and recounts the events of her day; she woke up, got to the theatre, where there was not a single soul but herself. Bella could not surmise their claim. Before she can continue her statement, she is lulled.

"You think we're lying?" Sebastian has a smug expression plastered onto his face.

"No, I didn't say that," her gaze trails down to the floor, verifying a lingering thought she had in her head and gleaning to support her corroboration. "It's just that your shoes are wet."

James gives out a chortle, a hearty laugh upon Bella's examination. "It was sunny all morning," he pauses with a smile on his face, "and it's almost like we got caught in the afternoon London rain." James cedes, putting both his hands up in defeat, as if to elucidate that he'd been caught.

"Aren't you observant?" Sebastian quips.

"Oh, I am truly taken by you," James avows, "you have a truly excellent display of observation. It seems you are just as smart as you are beautiful." There's a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Truly. It makes me want to bite even more." Sebastian says this with a deep chuckle.

"You want to 'bite'? What?" Bella furrows her arched eyebrow, expressing a look of puzzlement upon acknowledging Sebastian's terse remark. Before Bella can further inquire Sebastian's obscene sense of humour, James adjusts his tie and clears his throat.

"Well, Ms. Demie, I must see you again," he takes a step back into the corridor. "Sooner, rather than later."

The door to the dressing room slams shut in an instant, in such a swift manner that Bella cannot even begin to process what has just happened. The two men are gone, and the presence that emitted off of them left with them, too. The room seemed so much more empty and quiet.

Bella blinks several times in confusion, staring at the white wooden door in front of her. Her eyes squint in thought, her mouth agape. What on Earth just happened?

IV.

After the afternoon rain, a cold front infiltrates the humid air in London. With the cold front came a gentle breeze, a mellow wind that mollified the incongruous events that had transpired during Bella's day. She'd spent the last 20 minutes or so on a leisurely amble to her prioritized errand, and while doing so, mentally delineating the unusual details of her afternoon.

Bella's thoughts linger to her unprecedented interaction with the 2 strangers in her dressing room. She thinks about the beautiful, bright blue roses she had been gifted, and wished she had been able to take them home with her. With those men, specifically the professor, Mr. Moriarty, was an undeniably prepotent endowment.

A huff escapes Bella's glossed lips, her tresses flow through the air. She digs her hands deeper into her beige dress coat, an effort to insulate herself, in spite of her legs being exposed from her skirt. Still, her ribbed stockings provide her with a sense of snugness in the cold. Bella clutches onto her purse, opening it and rummaging through her belongings to verify the address she'd been looking for.

Bella stops in her tracks, remaining stationary and leaning against a railing that separates the walkway from a small lake. She huffs once more, looking down and retrieving a folded paper from her bag. The paper unfolded revealed a ripped piece of a tabloid, the edged rigid and coarse. From inside her bag, she takes a look at the article. She leans against the railing and rereads the contents of it, refreshing her memory. The address is highlighted in a light blue.

221B Baker Street

During Bella's perusing, her sense of smell is pervaded by a faint aroma of herbal tea. She looks up again. Ahead of her was a quaint café, it was rather busy, too. Several antiquated table set-ups lined against the building, having a perfect view of the main road and the lake behind the black railings. It was a quite cute setting to sit down and enjoy a cup of tea.

"Fancy a cup of tea, Ms. Demie?" A virile voice calls out, to Bella's surprise. The voice, as Bella follows it, leads to a table where 3 friendly, besuited young men are sat. It was the second time a stranger had referred to her by her surname.

"How ill-mannered of me," the man in the middle says. "I shouldn't have called you by your name like that." There's a friendly tone reminiscent in his voice. From first glance, it was very apparent how tall this man was, despite being seated. His hair was dark, and his skin pale. The man's companions on either side of him were both blonde with an admirable smile.

"My name is Mycroft," he speaks again. "You're Belladonna Demie." Once more, Bella puts another name to a new face.

"I'm flattered you recognize me, Mycroft."

"How could he not?" The man on his right comments. "To not notice such an exceptional actress would be a crime, especially in broad daylight—where she's most radiant. My name is Arsène Lupin."

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Demie. I'm Hercule Poirot," the man on the left extremity says with a charming smile and a small wave.

Hercule Poirot. That Belgian detective? I've seen him on the paper before, Bella thinks to herself. If she didn't know about Sherlock Holmes, she probably would've reached out to him to consult about her case. "It's nice to meet you all." Bella exchanges. "Call me Bella. I'll never get used to Ms. Demie. It feels too formal."

"Very well then, Bella," Mycroft presses his lips, analyzing her very character. "Why don't you have a seat? Considering we've introduced ourselves and whatnot."

Considering the men were so welcoming, Bella didn't feel like an imposition. In fact, she felt rather comfortable, not suffocated by flattery. She knew they were good people. Still, she felt she shouldn't waste anymore time. "Oh, I don't know. . . I have to be somewhere soon."

"Oh, I do know you're in a rush," Mycroft says, a sympathetic expression on his visage. "But, I do have some thing for you that you may find useful in this very moment. Chat over cinnamon tea? You like cinnamon, don't you?" Mycroft calls out a waiter and asks for a cinnamon tea.

How utterly strange. How could someone possibly deduce that from first glance, with less than a few sentences exchanged? It was alluring, impressive, even. "Y-yes, I do."

"Take a seat, miss! Enjoy a cup of hot tea in this cold weather. I think your company would be a perfect addition to our afternoon," Hercule adds. "I think we may have some information for you in exchange."

Reluctantly, Bella takes a seat on an unoccupied chair. Just seconds after, her cinnamon tea is placed onto the clothed table, along with a small dish of biscuits and a spoon. Her question, of how on Earth that man could know she liked cinnamon tea still remained unanswered. It all felt like some sort of magic trick.

"Your bag." Mycroft points at Bella's leather bag, which was still open from before. He takes a swig of his black coffee whilst doing so. "You have a pack of cinnamon gum inside. You were wondering how I knew you would like cinnamon tea, didn't you?"

"That's not the only thing we can tell from her bag." Hercule quips.

"Hercule, spare the vagueness on this poor lady. We're eating up her valuable time, aren't we?" Mycroft chastises his friend. "She needs to pay a visit to 221B."

Once more, Mycroft makes a sharp deduction. His sense of perception was keen, exceptionally refined. Bella had only just met these men, yet they read her as if it was a facile task. She expresses the shock she felt when he pinpoints her errand. ". . . How did you know that?"

"When you were in the corner, rummaging through your purse, you seemed to have been trying to figure out your way somewhere. You referred to a paper. Specifically, an article on the London Times. It's a rather peculiar thing for a young woman to be reading," Mycroft explains. "Which is why you didn't take out the paper, but rather, you read it through your bag."

But if I never took out the paper, how could he have known? Like a book, the man is able to read her, with finesse. Bella wondered if he was a dilettante for detective work.

"You're sure you didn't take the paper from your bag out," Mycroft adds. "So, how did I know? Your face tells me that's what you want to ask. Well, for that sliver of a moment you crouched down to sit down, I was able to see you ripped out a small section from the paper. There was a photo of a rather popular case that remained unsolved until recently, and from that I didn't need to look more than that to know you were going to 221B. Not even the address you highlighted."

My Gods. Bella is at a complete loss for words.

"Oh, yeah, I know what case you're talking about," Arsène says. "The french nobility's daughter was getting married, but the groom went missing for quite some time."

"Shirley really went out of his way to solve that one," Hercule sighs. "Quite the shock since nothing piques his interest."

"Bella, you're going to hire Sherlock Holmes." Mycroft ends his spiel.

"There's the end of that soliloquy." Arsène chuckles.

To say Bella was amazed would be diminishing the emotion she felt. For the second time today, she'd been rendered unresponsive. However, this time it was from the sheer shock she felt upon this man's extraordinary faculty for figures. It seemed like she'd been a slave to his search for detail.

"Amazing! You're a brilliant mind, aren't you?!" Bella takes a sip from her tea, expressing her impression.

"You're too kind to Mycroft." Arsène laughs a hearty laugh.

"You mentioned you had something I would find of value." Bella remarks, taking a sip of her tea.

"Oh, yes," Mycroft clears his throat and presses a napkin to his lips to wipe off excess coffee, "hand me your phone."

"My phone?"

"You've got the default maps app, don't you? I just want to show you the way there." Mycroft explains he has no ill intent but to help.

Bella's intuition leads her to believe this man means no harm, and she has no reason to believe he'd do anything with malice from just a look at her phone. If it were anybody else, she'd tread with more caution. She trusts him. Bella hands Mycroft her smartphone. In just a moment, after a few swipes, he hands it back to her.

"Your destination is here." Mycroft points at a blue dot on a digital rendering of the map of London.

"Thank you so much!"

"I suppose you should get going. We've had you here for about 5 minutes, not too much of your time." Mycroft wears a knowing expression, satisfied with himself and the outcome of the brief conversation.

"Shame you can't enjoy some freshly-baked scones!" Arsène refers to the dish of pastries a waiter has just placed onto the table. Though they looked divine, she couldn't possibly waste anymore time.

"Mycroft's right, she doesn't have time to relax," Hercule supposes. "No time for afternoon tea."

"Yeah, it does seem I should get going now," Bella gets up from her chair and pushes it into the table. "It was fun talking to you all. I'm happy I got to know you."

"I hope you won't be disappointed in what you may find in there." Mycroft says this with a sigh, as if he knows something she doesn't.

"Oh! Let me pay for my tea." Bella retrieves her wallet from her purse, before Arsène makes her refrain.

"Let me be a gentleman and pay for it," he smiles, "perhaps a dinner with you too."

"Until next time." Hercule gives a wave goodbye, with a closed-eye, wavy smile. His blonde hair glimmers under the sun, that had now started to set. Upon that observation, Bella realizes how late it had gotten.

"Well, I'm off. Goodbye!" Bella dismisses herself, delighted with the help and conversation she'd gotten from the friendly trio. With that, she uses her phone to guide her to her destination.

It's about a quarter after 5 PM. The sun was setting, and the clouds had become to reflect the light from the horizon. Light orange hues emitted from the sky, a beautiful luminosity as a consequence for the afternoon rain. Although the day may have been nigh to an end, Bella was not yet completed with herself, despite her atypical day having her busier than usual.

Bella, with the help of the digital map Mycroft had set up, was able to reach her destination without getting lost in the vast array of streets in London. However, she had found herself loitering in front of the London residence. She'd come so far that she wasn't going to stop herself from going in, but she was still trepidatious, the lingering feeling of her trip being in vain made her feel tense. Intrusive thoughts of rejection worried her.

Don't be disappointed. Anything can happen. Bella responds to the mental thought of her case being shunned.

Bella exhales, trying to muster up courage to knock while observing the building in front of her. It was three stories, with a flat right beneath it. The residence was connected to several others, however, the architecture suggesting everything directly up and straight belonged to the detective. Embellishing every window, stacked on every story, was a container of flowers, a small garden of green. On the floor above the flat, was a balcony, composed of an intricate black railing and more flowers. The domicile seemed sophisticated, dapper in appearance.

It's now or never, Bella. Composing herself, Bella saunters over to the ingress of the building. The door is black, a glossy paint, she can almost make out her distorted reflection. The frame is rectangular, rounded at the crown. Reluctantly, Bella reaches for the copper door-knocker, her attempt to refrain from being abient. Her warm fingers touch the cool surface of the door-knocker, but before she could knock, she hears an extrinsic speaker.

"Oh, no! Did Sherlock keep you waiting, dear?" A mature, coarse voice calls out from behind Bella.

Bella turns around in response, inquisitive in the source. It's an elderly woman, a convivial expression on her aged mien. "I don't know what I'm going to do with him," she sighs, "how long have you been waiting for, dear?"

"Oh, actually, I was just about to knock." Bella felt discomfit rushing in her, her cheeks going red when she realized the old dame had likely seen her dallying and assumed that she'd been forced to wait. "Do you live here?"

"'Do I live here?' Aha! I'm the landlord, dear," the elderly woman explains, approaching the door with a ring of keys. "I live next door."

"I see," Bella enunciates. "Well, I'm here to talk with Mr. Holmes. I'd like to hire him, you see. I'm hoping he's interested in my case."

"In that case," the elderly woman smiles, her wrinkled skin does not cut her juvenile emotion short. "Welcome to 221B. The boys call me Mrs. Hudson."

"The boys?"

Mrs. Hudson has unlocked the door and pushed it open. "The boys. Sherlock and Watson, dear," she explains with a discreet tone. "Come in."

Watson, Bella thinks to herself, I think I read about him in the paper. He's Mr. Holmes' assistant.

Warily and with circumspect, Bella steps into the ingress of the hearth. Posthaste the door slamming shut, the ambience that carried over Bella outside pendulates to a warmer one. The scent of the breadth is woody, redolent to that of cedar. The interior of the edifice presents itself with an antiquated yet pleasant style, the walnut mahogany walls daubed with an intricate, vermillion wallpaper. The vestibule was spacious, a welcoming entrance. Before the front door was a staircase, the corridor that fared the voices that were upstairs to the first floor.

"Lestrade, you idiot! How could you possibly have this overlooked? My Gods, the Scotland Yard is useless! What do you even do?! Use up valuable taxpayer dollars?!"

A commotion from upstairs penetrates through the observation that had kept Bella so absorbed. She looks up at the stairs, to which Mrs. Hudson gives a quiet laugh, and says, "I hope you won't be disappointed by what you find today." That was the second time she'd heard those exact words today.

"Watson, tell Sherlock to calm down. 'Else I'll assign someone else on this case."

"For the last time, Lestrade, I'm not Sherlock's mother, nor am I his father. Not even the Queen herself could strip him of the arrogance he has."

"You wouldn't even think about having someone else on this case, George. The Scotland Yard couldn't be less oblivious to any crime networks going on in the cesspool of London. How could you even contemplate replacing me?! To have another idiot overlook such a crucial part of the autopsy?"

Several voices reverberate in the domicile, voices Bella can't put a face to. Suddenly, an anxious emotion pervades Bella, and she turns to shoot Mrs. Hudson a glance. "It seems they're a little busy. I can come back another time."

"Nonsense. You see, they're always chatting up a storm like this." Mrs. Hudson clicks her tongue, her voice is brimmed with unconcern. "Boys! Stop arguing! You've got a guest."

Following Mrs. Hudson's yell, Bella can't help but feel like an imposition. She fidgets with the backings of her earrings, a futile attempt to control the desperation that fills her. With a deep breath, she relaxes herself. Mrs. Hudson motions her up the stairs, and Bella acquiesces.

In the loft, the entire atmosphere is switched. It was a complete juxtaposition from downstairs, instead of being warm and welcoming, was contemporaneous to chaos and disarray. The lounge room, or rather, the office, had several items strewn about the space, disorder defining the character. In the middle of the study was a hearth, a dark mahogany fireplace with a dimly lit fire. On either side of the fireplace, in the center, were two leather chairs. A window, barely covered by a curtain, released a stream of sunlight into the room and reflected onto the intricate red patterns of the wallpaper, hints of gold adorning it. The office was mounded with books, literary works on the shelves of the walls.

Ambulating about the room were two men, whilst one sat at an escritoire. However, once Bella's presence had been acknowledged, their quarrel had came to a stop. Knowingly, and not wanting to exhibit herself as brusque, Bella takes the opportunity to introduce herself.

"Hello," she waves a small wave. "My name is Belladonna Demie."

Mrs. Hudson, not saying a word until now, dismisses herself. "I'll make you all some tea while you talk things out."

The man on the right of Bella wastes no time to extend his hand. His face, is carved wonderfully and to perfection. His skin is pale but golden, and his hair is flaxen and with a fitting coiffure. He's suited in a dark brown suit, except without the coat. The man's air lingered with tranquility and cordiality. "It's nice to meet you, Belladonna," he smiles, his white dentition framing his visage, he looked leonine. "I'm John Watson. Feel free to call me John."

Bella and John exchange a brief handshake, their eyes meeting and acknowledging the establishment of a standard familiarity. His eyes are amber, resembling that of a jasper. His physique is strong, bigger than the rest of the men in the room, however, it doesn't look vulgar, it looks fitting to his masculinity. It was impossible to deny his endowment in appearance.

"It's a pleasure to meet you John. Just call me Bella, I much prefer it," she says, "I believe I read that you're the assistant, aren't you?"

"The pleasure is all mine!" a small chuckles escapes his lips. "Well, I do suppose I've become an assistant. The papers write me out to be that way. I'm actually a doctor. I work as a physician at the local clinic."

"I see. So you're a Dr. Watson."

"May I take your coat? It's quite warm here," John offers, immediately approaching from behind Bella. Her beige coat is slipped off her back, and she is suddenly reduced to her brown skirt and cream cardigan. Her modest jewelry is exposed, a breeze of warmth immediately grazing against her chest.

Following John's statement, the man next to him takes a few steps forward, extending his hand to Bella. "George Lestrade."

George's appearance is more aged than that of John's. His jaw had a grey stubble, with an indentation in his chin. Grey hairs had already begun to sprout on his head of hair. He wore a navy trench coat with the buttons lazily put on. In the centre of his chest was a brown lanyard, which read George Lestrade with a photo of him.

"He may not look like it," John says, "but he's an inspector at the Scotland Yard."

"Could've left out the part where you said 'he may not look like it.'"

"It's nice to meet you, Inspector." Bella makes out the man who had not said a word through this interaction, he sat on the escritoire with a brooding demeanour. He wore a white button-up with a black vest, his tie was a plaid navy blue. His visage is clouded with the darkness of the corner, exhibiting himself as arcane. Through the process of elimination, she supposed that was Sherlock Holmes.

"By the way. . ." the inspector scratches the back of his head, "have we met before?"

John, immediately bears a look of disapproval on his visage. ". . .It's only been 5 minutes, George. Anyone can see where you're trying to take this."

"No, I mean it! It wasn't me trying to come on to her, I really have seen you somewhere, Bella!"

Bella, about to mention the fact she's a rather common face on local London TV, is interrupted by John's realization that he had seen her somewhere, too. ". . .You're right. Now that you mention it, I've seen her somewhere, too."

Before Bella could explain that she's an actress, the words are taken out of her mouth and thrown onto the ground.

"You've come to hire me? I'm quite busy today, so if it's less than trivial, I'll send you off," the man on the escritoire whom had not said a word until this very moment breaks his reticence with a brusque remark. Suddenly, the welcoming environment is cut through with a knife, replaced with a tension that was palpable. He gets up, a quiet creak following, striding on over to Bella. "You must know, I value my time."

Feeling reduced to an infant, Bella parts her lips to speak. Again, like clockwork, the words are taken out of her mouth and thrown onto the floor.

"Let us review," the man paces around the room, his hands inside his vest pocket attempting to look for something. He produces a cigarette from the aperture, setting fire to the butt of it and placing it on his lips. "You're an actress. You've been acting since a very young age. You're preparing for a lead role at this moment, a role you're nervous for."

"Maybe that's where I've seen her. . .!" Inspector Lestrade comes to a realization.

Well, anyone who watches TV can know I'm an actress. Bella does not express any amusement to his observation.

"You're Turkish by birth. You came to London in pursuit of work," he takes a puff of his cigarette, "you have Egyptian roots. You're religious."

Maybe that's a little harder for him to know, Bella thinks to herself. There was really no way to research her background, so it was more than a startle to Bella he'd been able to deduce such a thing. Before she thinks anything else, she listens attentively. Suddenly, she'd encountered an interest in someone recounting the mundane details of her life.

"You just had cinnamon tea. Specifically from the Crescent Café a few blocks from here." Sherlock attests.

"Wait, Sherlock, I think I know where I've seen her!" John exclaims, "She was in—"

"You're with 3 strangers. You're used to being around strangers, yet you're nervous now. You're hiding it, yet the smile on your face looks natural and not timid," he continues, "you don't like exhibiting yourself as shy, or nervous."

"You breathe from your abdomen. It's why your chest doesn't rise or fall, you were taught that since you were a child."

"It's a surprise to see you here, Bella, looking for Sherlock of all people," John wears a smile on his face, realizing finally where he'd seen her. "You must know, Sherlock is a fan of 'Murd—"

"You're modest," he continues, interrupting John again. "You don't wear expensive clothing, for the most part, and your jewelry is from your family," he blows out another puff of grey smoke and the room is daubed with an effluvium of menthol. "The symbols on your necklace," he insinuates to the pendant that fell between Bella's bosom, "it's an Ankh—a customary Egyptian religious symbol. It's a rather peculiar pendant for a woman in London to be wearing. It's gold, like your other jewelry, not because of wealth, but because of culture."

It seemed Sherlock was explaining the observations that led him to his deductions. With keen interest, Bella listens, making no interruptions. "Your other necklace has a blue eye as a pendant. That's the Nazar Boncuk, an amulet known to 'thwart' the bad energies from people by absorbing them. Although it doesn't come from Turkey, and it can be traced back to Ancient Italy and some parts of Asia, it is Turkey's most popular souvenir and tradition. It's not a big pendant, nor one that's very visible, but from the light reflecting it, I can notice the blue gemstones forming the pattern of a blue eye, despite the primarily gold component."

So that's how he knew I was Turkish, instinctively, Bella places her fingers on her pendant and fondles it as she continues to hearken to Sherlock's immaculate faculties of observation.

"Your bag is half-open, and there's a script visible. It's wrinkled, worn out, probably because you've been reading it every opportunity you can because it's a big role and you're careful not to mess up on any lines. You're nervous about it, that's why so many pages have the ears folded throughout the distribution of the pages. On the spine of the script, is the title of the play. You're playing the heroine of 'The Phantom of the Opera.'"

The detective pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and chucks the decay and presses on it with his foot. He puts down the cigarette on an ashtray atop the fireplace. "You stopped by the Crescent Café and had cinnamon tea. The Crescent Café happens to be the only place in London to serve Ceylon cinnamon, a strain of cinnamon grown in the fields of Sri Lanka. You carried that aroma with you."

It became very clear, that despite the imperious and haughty that lingers in his voice, there was an unfettered extraordinary mental power he was endowed with. With just the power of sense, visual and olfactory, he is able to retell the characteristics of someone and their exact steps. It was magnificent, unprecedented.

"I suppose I did make the right choice coming here." Bella says nothing more.

"You just now realized that?" Sherlock scoffs.

"What Sherlock meant to say is, 'I'm glad you think so.'" John corrects his companion, adding humanity to his statement.

Mrs. Hudson comes into the room carefully holding a tray with an arrangement of dishes. In the center is a porcelain teacup, releasing a pleasant aroma of herbal tea. "Have a seat, Bella," she insists, setting the tray down on a coffee table in the middle of the two chairs. "Come here." Bella sits on one of the leather seats, following Mrs. Hudson.

"You too, Sherlock," the woman says, "I made peppermint tea. Your favourite." The landlady talks to Sherlock with a low tone, displaying her respect and familiarity. It almost seemed kin-like, like a grandmother talking to her grandson. Shortly, she leaves the room.

With no protest, Sherlock seats himself onto the leather chair in front of Bella, on his side of his back faced the pouring sunlight. He reaches for a small teacup, treating himself to the peppermint contents inside the teapot. For a moment, he's silent, his eyes closed taking a sip of his tea. Not ambulating across the room anymore, finally stationary, Bella is able to get a better look at his appearance.

Sherlock's shoulders are sinewy, his build robust and fitting to his tall frame. His physiognomy was chiseled, a masculinity that contrasts to the softness of his appearance. His cheekbones were carved, the highest point complimented with the light that met it. His eyes, were a light, iced cerulean. It was a timid blue, an iciness that characterized himself. His lips, now wet with tea, were a soft pink that were pillowed, a keyhole effect. His coiffure was black, a deep obsidian hue, combed untidily, yet he wore it nicely. He was an attractive man, his prepossessing figure was yet another endowment to his many brilliant gifts.

"I've shown you the extent of what I can do," he gloats, "I would rather not waste anymore time and would like you to discuss the matter of today's visit. What is the matter of today’s visit?”

"Of course," Bella clears her throat and reaches for her purse. She retrieves a plethora of white envelopes, passing them to the detective before her.

Sherlock shuffles through the documents, before passing them back to John who'd been standing behind his chair. John studies the papers, a wary expression on his visage.

"'Give up the play or there will be the most dire consequences.'" John says, "'Give up the role, or you will regret it.' Christ, how have you been going to rehearsal with this? I'd be looking after my back. All the notes have the same handwriting, so naturally it's from the same person."

"They were always in my dressing room," she explains, "but that's not all."

"It's not?" John asks.

"A little while ago, one of my dear friends passed away," she continues, "it was ruled an accidental death by the autopsy. She'd died in a car accident. Her name was Flora."

"I'm so sorry to hear that."

"It's quite alright," she says. "The point I'm getting to is that she was also performing a play sponsored by the same people this play is being sponsored by."

"And, you think those things may be related?" Sherlock inquires.

"To be honest," she sighs, "I have no idea. It's been a lingering thought of mine ever since I've gotten these notes. Not to mention, it doesn't help the fact that I have no idea who the main patron for this play is. Anyway, Flora was also playing a main role. She never mentioned any threatening notes to me, but I was thinking it might've been because she was scared to."

"These people funding this event, do they have a company?" John asks.

"They're anonymous. My agent, Simon, got me this role because they whoever funded this play looked for me specifically," she sighs, "frankly, Dr. Watson, I feel that my life has been overtaken by strange, intangible little details that could very well lead to nothing. But, I do know one thing, which is that I am being threatened over this role that I refuse to jeopardize."

"I'm afraid I've got my hands full." Sherlock clears his throat.

"Come on, Sherlock, you're so bored you've started to shoot bullets at the walls." John reclaims, glancing over at the wall behind him which had been slightly dilapidated with holes remnant of gunpowder. He closes his eyes and frowns. "Much to the dismay of Mrs. Hudson."

Sherlock says nothing in response. He settles himself deeper into his chair, taking another sip of the peppermint tea that had now gotten lukewarm.

Bella bites at the inside of her lip, accepting the defeat the end of the day had come to. It seemed the prescient conversation with Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft had foreshadowed the events occurred. They mentioned Sherlock was critical of his cases, and almost nothing piqued his interest. Although Bella was disappointed, she was not surprised. Sherlock was implacable. That's that.

"Well, I'm disappointed you won't take my case," she explains, clutching at her purse, "but the reason I came here was because I'm not giving up this role no matter what, and I hoped I could get this issue resolved. But, even still, I'm not going to let these notes stop me. I will ensure this production is a success, and I refuse to put my role in jeopardy."

Sherlock sighs an exasperated sigh, his gaze finally meeting Bella's.

"In any event," Bella gets up, "I'll be on my way out."

"No, please sit," John protests. "Sherlock, are you sure about this?"

Sherlock says nothing.

"Bella, how about talking with the Scotland Yard about this?" Inspector Lestrade commiserates.

". . .I want to keep this as quiet as possible." Bella explains why she'd sought after private detectives rather than the police department.

"You think someone on the inside may be responsible." John exclaims.

". . .Maybe. I also don't know who it is I'm dealing with. I also don't want to publicize my bestfriend's death, or sensationalize any of this." Bella explains.

"That's more of a reason to talk to Scotland Yard."

Sherlock, saying nothing more, gets up, retrieving his coat from the coat stand. "I'll need you to show me where you hold your rehearsals."

"Congratulations, Bella," John exclaims. "You finally got to him."

"We must start where the incident occurred," Sherlock says, "and looking for clues in the dressing room is indispensable."

"My Gods, thank you so much, Mr. Holmes!" Bella exclaims, filled with alacrity. "Really, thank you!"

"Don't misunderstand," he quips, "I haven't accepted your case yet."

"I know," Bella says, with a smile. "I'm just really happy you agreed to take a look and offer me your time."

Sherlock, almost fighting off a smile, wears an indiscernible expression on his visage. "Very well then. I'm sure the answer to this matter will take no longer than 1 hour to be uncovered."

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐍𝐃

//A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

i'm extremely glad i was able to wrap this first chapter up. this really is just the beginning, and a way for me to establish some of the main characters. yes i know i took off jack stillman but i just don’t like him😣 maybe i’ll put him back idk 🥹

if this is well received, i will be more than happy to continue my writing :) i just hope this reaches the small, niche audience i want it to reach.

anyways

thank you for reading!

blessed be.

#guard me sherlock #james moriarty #sherlock #john h watson

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trickster-kat · 2 years ago

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Professor James Moriarty 2 Preview

#shall we date?#otome games #swd #guard me sherlock #preview #professor james moriarty #james moriarty #james #moriarty #season 2

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joanquill · 11 months ago

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"Hey, wanna take advantage of the couple's discount today?" + "Wanna go fake-propose at every restaurant we can find to get free dessert?"

William and Little Sister Holmes Fluff Romantic Prompts 6 & 7 (and could you also make it so that during all of this, little sister holmes is trying to get info on the lord of crimes a.k.a. william)

William James Moriarty

A/N: The reader is Sherlock and Mycroft's younger sister. Tag/s: Holmes!Fem!Reader, Fluff

You sighed for the nth time of the day, kicking a small pebble as you walked along the street.

You glanced over to the shops and saw your reflection on one's display and the reflections of Mycroft's men, whom he graciously gave you as your bodyguards after seeing your suitors who visited you this Valentine's Day.

What surprised you was Sherlock agreeing with Mycroft.

You clicked your tongue as you kicked the pebble stronger, making it skip a few feet away.

You looked around the streets for an escape, hoping to avoid the eyes of your elder brothers until...

'Huh?' you questioned as you spotted a familiar blond with scarlet eyes entering a stationery store.

'William James Moriarty?' you recognized, seeing him look intently at the different kinds of pen and paper.

You gasped and smiled to yourself as a plan formulated in your mind, an opportunity to mess with your brothers.

And now, seeing the growing crowd coming out of the department store nearby, you have found your chance.

You swiftly crossed the street, hastening your pace as you merged with the crowd.

You snickered as you saw your guards stumble and get pushed back, frantically looking around for you.

You triumphly hummed to yourself as you walked over to William, tapping his shoulder.

"Lord Moriarty," you politely greeted, "It's been a while," you smiled at his surprised expression, slowly turning into a smile.

"Miss Holmes," he took off his top hat with a smile, "It truly has been ages," he added, making you smile.

"What brings you here?"

"Just felt like it," you shrugged, a mischievous smile still on your face, " Say... You don't happen to be courting anybody, do you?"

William raised his brow with a smile.

"Quite direct. Aren't we, my lady?"

"Just making sure no one would be upset or get hurt with my proposition for you," you grinned, making William smirk.

"And that would be...?"

"Be my Valentine's date?"

William blinked twice at your question, making you laugh.

"I beg your pardon?" William asked as you continued to laugh.

"For pretend, of course," you reassured, still chuckling, "My brothers have been really annoying with giving me bodyguards after seeing my suitors, so I want to teach them a lesson," you explained, making him lightly laugh.

"And so you want me to pretend to be one of them?"

"A fake proposal also wouldn't hurt," you shrugged, "Besides, I heard there's been quite the sale for couples this Valentine's Day," you coerced, making him chuckle.

'And with his title and how much Sherlock praises his intelligence, maybe he has some ideas on the lord of crime,' you thought, looking at William.

"...I don't see why not," William answered, making you beam.

"So you agree?" William nodded in response, making you internally cheer.

"Yes. It might be quite interesting," William answered, a dangerous gleam shining in his eyes as he gave you his hand.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, making you scoff.

'Ahh... Now I see...' you grinned, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake.

"Then, it's a deal. Lord Moriarty,"

#yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #valentines #william moriarty x reader #william james moriarty #william moriarty #jq valentines event

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rifulofthewest · 6 months ago

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It always catches me off guard when in Moriarty the Patriot fanfiction William is characterized as someone who is afraid of change or gets visibly angry/scared when things don't go according to his plan

He is all about adaptation to circumstances

A little boy with his brother, one year younger: live in an abandoned old library, and are constantly quitting orphanages. Staying steadily in one orphanage only when Louis begins to have a heart condition, because Will realizes that he will need help of adults with this

He agrees to Albert's invitation, which was neither expected nor anticipated + we know Will and Louis had their own money (we saw them in the courtroom chapters). So in the orphanage, they most likely tried to find people with contacts of doctors who could perform the necessary surgery. Because we also know that they ended up in THIS orphanage AFTER they were caught by the security guards of the largest library in London, where they were - I guess - looking for medical books to compare them to Louis' symptoms and give a name to what was happening to him

And the final plan for the destruction of the class system, which included only crime and Will's death at the end (or the three brothers going to jail, as everyone was told), and Will still being able in the process to: 1) made Sherlock the protagonist - when the three of them were supposed to be the protagonists of everything; 2) rescued Irene Adler/Bond from the British government, which was very risky; 3) went up against the Blackmailing King and lost, but still used it to his advantage.

Like... William James Moriarty should be considered as synonym to ”adaptation„. It is literally EVERYTHING he was doing all his life.

#william james moriarty #moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty

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pinazee · 7 months ago

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Lights camera homicidio

Hola! Me llamo pinazee! Me gusta queso!

Okay im just going to be honest here, when i first watched this (being part latina myself) it made me feel a lil’ icky because it was a knee jerk reaction of it feeling like a white guy doing a bad impression of a mexican; but once i learned James is half and that his dad enjoyed hearing him speak spanish on his show im perfectly fine enjoying all the over the top spanish bits. And listen, i understand that james wasn’t doing an impression of a mexican and it was really more an impression of the soap opera acting, it still felt like a degree of the culture was at play too. But again, its totally fine, and honestly even if he was a full blooded german i probably would have given it a pass, simply for the reasons stated above.

Anyways, I, surprisingly, don’t have a whole lotta notes for this one. So this might just be a set of gifs ;) i mean, look how much fun he’s having!

I love that rothstein and Jorge were almost instantly bff’s with shawn, to the point that the show called it out- which was great! He has this infectious quality of bringing people into his world and making them feel valued and listened to. The more i watch this show, the more im grateful that Shawn was the subversion of the “genius”trope we had at the time in the sense that he was actually great with people. Mid 00’s you had the mentalist (prick), house (prick), sherlock (prick), monk (awkward), charlie (awkward, p.s adorable), uh that lie to me guy (prick)- you get the gist. Shawns a lovable guy. I dare anyone to say otherwise.

Hahahhahaha get it? His sister is ugly! She looks like a guy! Hahahahahha -_-

*sigh* Look how deflated shawn gets because he’s so used to the criticisms at this point. Ugh, henry is really pissing me off this time around. But, i will say, this does add a little bit more to henry as a character. Like the whole bubble bath and tanning thing, we see henry is not the stereotypical manly man but instead feels he has to hide this more feminine side of himself, enough to the point that Shawn doesn’t really know the real him. Henry’s imposed this image of what he thinks a man should be while secretly hiding he doesn’t live up to that ideal himself. Henry’s a really guarded individual and i can’t help but wonder if there is a trauma there that built that wall, or if it was simply how it was growing up in his time. Idk, maybe a little of both. But, again, i don’t think it was ever really explored which is a shame. I would have liked to see henrys origin story. Could you imagine movie 4 opens with kid Henry and papa Spencer? That could be cool :)

The juliet B story- im so confused by what they were trying to say. It was naive of juliet to try to make friends? She shouldn’t come on too strong? Chief Vick is the only friend she needs?? I like the scene she has with the chief, and i honestly don’t even mind that lady being an asshole (cause feminism). I’m just confused by the plot really. I wish they would’ve given us some hope that she could’ve made a friend in the department. Like a passing lady says hi to her, and juliet smiles. Or had karen give her advice that was more than “be careful, these women are guarded.”

That scene juliet had with her did break my heart a little at this part. Juliet needs a friend okay.

Also, i think Ms. pascoretti thought juliet was hittting on her and thats why she filed a complaint, so she’s just a homophobic asshole who should be fired, and im going to assume she was as we never see her again so good riddance.

P.S TOO HARD!

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lilolilyr · 4 months ago

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♡ pls reblog my fic posts ♡

This is my new fandom masterlist!

In alphabetical order, everything I write for:

Gen F/F F/M M/M

• Dracula

• Goncharov (Katfia)

•••• Good Omens (ineffable spouses)

• Gunpowder Milkshake, (Floreleine, ScarletMay, Librarywives ot3, Killercule) also on @floreleine

• Hacks HBO (Avorah)

• Hawaii 5-0 (McDanno)

• Holby City (Berena)

• Humans are Weird // Humans are Space Orcs

• James Bond (00Q)

••• Leverage

•• Lie to Me (Callian, Zoe/Gillian)

• Lord of the Rings // The Hobbit

• MCU (mainly ClintCoulson, Stucky)

•• Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries (MacPhrack)

• Ocean's 8 (HeistWives aka Loubbie)

• Pirates of the Caribbean

• Pitch Perfect (Becommissar)

•• Sherlock (Johnlock, Shirene aka Adlock)

••• Star Trek

• ST Discovery (Milippa -prime, -mirror, -poly, -kat)

• ST DS9 (Kiradax, Kahndax, Kiradaxkahn)

• ST Picard (Saffi)

•• ST TOS (Spirk)

••• ST Voyager (J7, Chakotey/Tuvok)

•• Star Wars

• The Devil Wears Prada (Mirandy)

• The Hunger Games

• The Old Guard (Andromaquynh, Andronilynh)

• The Witcher (mostly Geraskier)

• Venom

• Warehouse 13 (Bering and Wells), also on @hgwellsmykabering

& more :)

A bunch of my fics are unfinished and Up for Adoption!

I don't just write but also make podfics, art, manips, moodboards and memes sometimes :D

If you want to be put on any of my fandom tag lists to be notified when I post something, let me know!

I'm always taking prompts, though much more likely to write for people who also support me by reblogging stuff and/or commenting on Ao3 of course ;) the ones in bold are my active fandoms that I'm mainly taking prompts for! You can also send other ideas though :)

I'm open to transformative works - podfic, fanart, continuations, AUs etc of my works - just click 'inspired by' on Ao3 / link to my work on tumblr!

My favs • Ask me things! • behind the scenes • discord • Ao3

#thought i needed a new pinned post what with the Gonchboard being a year old #tho i think I'll pin a milippa moodboard for a bit first #edit aug24: it's been. 4 months. xD i shall ppst this eventually xD hope i haven't forgotten any fandoms!#x #blog #lilo creates #mine #my post #aug'24 #masterlist #masterpost #lilolilyr #lilolilyrae

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mundrakan · 2 months ago

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Masterlist Rare Fandom Kinktober

I think only ONE person was interested, but I have a certain idea who this person is and so I'll do it just for them. In hopes they see it and know that they are important to me :)

2023

Which one? - Witcher treesome

The dubious joy of worship - Castlevania

A story of love - Addams Family

The Knight's order - Don Quixote

Love thy enemy - Arthurian legend (and one of my favourites)

Blushing virgin - Beauty and the beast

Bat in a cave - Batman

Getting Sneaky - Sex Education

Special treatment - Glass Onion (and if you ever want to see a hillarious, perfect, wonderfun gay man, go watch it)

Training - NCIS

Professional medical opinion - Firefly

Canon - Peter Pan (and it is bizarre)

Losers - Futurama

Snow Crow - Game of Thrones

Fear and love - Spartacus - Blood and Sand

If it is like that - Sherlock (BBC)

Old stacks get mouldy - Altered Carbon

Honey trap - Lucifer

Acquisition - We are the night (if you can watch the German original)

Embarrassing urges - Zootopia

Unlucky - Shadow over Innsmouth

In between friends - Ghost in a Shell

More than words - Captain America

Tryst - Downton Abbey

Business - Gattaca

Creative Solutions - Matrix

Purgatory or Heaven - The Old Guard

Deep inside - Original (Dragon Rider Verse)

Mischief - Thor

Expections - X-Men

Half awake - Taboo

2024

Guilty pleasure - Van Helsing (Netflix)

Having a husband - Addams Family

The Risk - Dune

To make a Garou Child - World of Darkness RPG

At knife's edge - Hannibal

A win-win situation - Deep Space Nine

Walking in your shoes - Firefly

In his own cave - Illiad

If only... - V as Vendetta

Travelling - The Old Guard

The seed of success - Altered Carbon

Anxiety relief - NCIS

What I see - Sherlock (BBC)

The Tigress of Oldtown - Sin City

Horizontal Tango - Attempted vertically - X-Men

Sex on the Beach - Cast away (Crack)

Small Amends - Les Miserables

Unsolicited Interruptions - James Bond

Initiate - Frontier

A thief - Goncharov

British Education - Red, White and Royal Blue

Instead of Chocolate Icecream - Dead Boy Detectives

After the job - Witcher

Public relations - The Rookie

On the watch - Dungeon Meshi

Temptress - Gladiator

Object Teaching - Zone Blanche/Black Spot

Hide the Hide - Rings of Power

Female solutions - Dracula

Beneath the surface - Original work (Dragon Rider Verse)

If a link doesn't work, please let me know. Otherwise... enjoy, I appreciate ever read, kudos and comment you grant me.

#Masterlist #kinktober

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thefisherqueen · 1 year ago

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All right, reading The Bruce-Partington Plans this evening! Two more stories after this and I've caught up with Letters from Watson :)

In the third week of November, in the year 1895, a dense yellow fog settled down upon London. From the Monday to the Thursday I doubt whether it was ever possible from our windows in Baker Street to see the loom of the opposite houses. It blows my mind how normal this kind of heavy, extremely unhealthy smog was in this time. Makes me wonder what in another 100 years people will have going like "You lived like that?!" (I hope it's parking lots and highways and office buildings)

But when, for the fourth time, after pushing back our chairs from breakfast we saw the greasy, heavy brown swirl still drifting past us and condensing in oily drops upon the window-panes, my comrade's impatient and active nature could endure this drab existence no longer. He paced restlessly about our sitting-room in a fever of suppressed energy, biting his nails, tapping the furniture, and chafing against inaction. Bored Sherlock Holmes, oddly cute

“Look out this window, Watson. See how the figures loom up, are dimly seen, and then blend once more into the cloud-bank. The thief or the murderer could roam London on such a day as the tiger does the jungle, unseen until he pounces, and then evident only to his victim.” Oh my, Doyle was really in his tiger fangirl fase when writing these last few stories

Well, well! What next?” said he. “Brother Mycroft is coming round.” “Why not?” I asked. “Why not? It is as if you met a tram-car coming down a country lane. Mycroft has his rails and he runs on them. We'll get to meet Mycroft again! :) Also, quite a funny image, Mycroft running on rails

You told me that he had some small office under the British government.” Holmes chuckled. “I did not know you quite so well in those days. One has to be discreet when one talks of high matters of state. You are right in thinking that he under the British government. You would also be right in a sense if you said that occasionally he is the British government.” And this was me thinking that the BBC series had sucked Mycroft being this whole goverment mastermind out of their thumb. So that's canon?:O

“Well, his position is unique. He has made it for himself. Nice parallel between the brothers here!

“There has been an inquest,” said I, “and a good many fresh facts have come out. Looked at more closely, I should certainly say that it was a curious case.” “Judging by its effect upon my brother, I should think it must be a most extraordinary one.” He snuggled down in his armchair. “Now, Watson, let us have the facts.” I just love this interaction. Holmes being all excited and trusting Watson to tell the important things to him :)

So the case is about a dead clerk that was found - murdered, in all likelihood - carrying some seriously important papers. Which he himself had stolen. And some of which were again stolen of him. Intriguing.

I'm hoping for some fun investigations in tunnels and along train tracks (I hope our men are careful)

If the papers were guarded with the same 'super secure' protective measures as the secret papers we've seen so far, they couldn't have been hard to steal

The actual official guardian of the papers is the famous government expert, Sir James Walter, whose decorations and sub-titles fill two lines of a book of reference. He has grown gray in the service, is a gentleman, a favoured guest in the most exalted houses, and, above all, a man whose patriotism is beyond suspicion. I already don't trust him. At least it's not a colonel?

“Has the fact been verified?” “Yes; his brother, Colonel Valentine Walter, has testified to his departure from Woolwich, and Admiral Sinclair to his arrival in London; so Sir James is no longer a direct factor in the problem.” But his brother is! Very suspicious

“Well, well!” said Holmes, shrugging his shoulders. “Come, Watson! And you, Lestrade, could you favour us with your company for an hour or two? Off they go!

It was one of my friend's most obvious weaknesses that he was impatient with less alert intelligences than his own. Savage, Watson

Watson, we have done all we can here. We need not trouble you any further, Mr. Lestrade. I think our investigations must now carry us to Woolwich.” No don't leave the creepy tunnels and train tracks yet :( I want more adventure

No theories yet. I can't figure out what Holmes means by points and curves and not wanting to investigate the train's carriages

“That should be helpful, Watson,” he remarked as we took our seats in the Woolwich train. “We certainly owe Brother Mycroft a debt for having introduced us to what promises to be a really very remarkable case.” It's 'we' and 'us'. They are so Together

“The end is dark to me also, but I have hold of one idea which may lead us far. The man met his death elsewhere, and his body was on the roof of a carriage.” That explains a lot: why there was a loud thud, why the clerk hadn't a ticket, and also why there was no blood on or near the tracks

The house of the famous official was a fine villa with green lawns stretching down to the Thames. As we reached it the fog was lifting, and a thin, watery sunshine was breaking through. A butler answered our ring. “Sir James, sir!” said he with solemn face. “Sir James died this morning.” Oh! There's a second murder victim?

“It was this horrible scandal,” said he. “My brother, Sir James, was a man of very sensitive honour, and he could not survive such an affair. It broke his heart." Ah, of course, no murder but the mysterious victorian Death by Sadness disease. If he really is dead. Btw, I don't trust the brother

I have a theory: mr. colonel learns of the top secret papers because likely his scientist brother can't keep his mouth shut, either convices his brother to take the papers home, or he steals his key and takes them himself. Anyway, Cadogan West catches them being all suspicious and impulsively (he was hot-headed) follows them to try to stop them. Which doesn't end well, he knows too much so he's murdered, and they place 7 of the papers upon his body so he can take the blame. Of course the brothers cover for each other

Arthur was the most single-minded, chivalrous, patriotic man upon earth. He would have cut his right hand off before he would sell a State secret confided to his keeping. It is absurd, impossible, preposterous to anyone who knew him.” Always trust the opinion of his fiancee. This young clerk was innocent

My friend's face grew graver still. “Anything else?” “He said that we were slack about such matters—that it would be easy for a traitor to get the plans.” Poor security. Why am I not surprised

“We were to go to the theatre. The fog was so thick that a cab was useless. We walked, and our way took us close to the office. Suddenly he darted away into the fog.” “Without a word?” “He gave an exclamation; that was all. Clearly no planned theft then.

“I'm afraid,” said Holmes, smiling, “that all the queen's horses and all the queen's men cannot avail in this matter.” He had spread out his big map of London and leaned eagerly over it. Holmes is a map nerd! Same, Holmes, same. Now the question: what clue did he find from the map?

All the long November evening I waited, filled with impatience for his return. At last, shortly after nine o'clock, there arrived a messenger with a note: Am dining at Goldini's Restaurant, Gloucester Road, Kensington. Please come at once and join me there. Bring with you a jemmy, a dark lantern, a chisel, and a revolver. Danger date! Love it. No clue what a dark lantern is

Try one of the proprietor's cigars. They are less poisonous than one would expect. That is not reassuring at all, Holmes

When I found that the leading international agent, who had just left London, lived in a row of houses which abutted upon the Underground, I was so pleased that you were a little astonished at my sudden frivolity.” So the colonel was innocent this time? Or did he still steal the papers, and then sell them to this agent?

We must bear in mind that Oberstein has gone to the Continent to dispose of his booty, but not with any idea of flight; for he had no reason to fear a warrant, and the idea of an amateur domiciliary visit would certainly never occur to him. Yet that is precisely what we are about to make.” “Could we not get a warrant and legalize it?” “Hardly on the evidence.” They are going to break in! Exciting!

He sprang up and shook me by the hand. “I knew you would not shrink at the last,” said he, and for a moment I saw something in his eyes which was nearer to tenderness than I had ever seen. The next instant he was his masterful, practical self once more. Awww :) Be gay, do crime, boys!

“A fairly complete record, Watson! If we could only get at the man at the other end!” He sat lost in thought, tapping his fingers on the table. Finally he sprang to his feet. Colonel! I haven't given up on my theory yet

I think we might drive round to the offices of the Daily Telegraph, and so bring a good day's work to a conclusion.” I guess that Holmes wants to lure the other accomplice out by placing a new message

But some of these days you'll go too far, and you'll find yourself and your friend in trouble.” “For England, home and beauty—eh, Watson? Holmes you flirt

“By George!” cried Lestrade. “If he answers that we've got him!” “That was my idea when I put it in. I think if you could both make it convenient to come with us about eight o'clock to Caulfield Gardens we might possibly get a little nearer to a solution.” We're nearing the conclusion :)

One of the most remarkable characteristics of Sherlock Holmes was his power of throwing his brain out of action and switching all his thoughts on to lighter things whenever he had convinced himself that he could no longer work to advantage. I remember that during the whole of that memorable day he lost himself in a monograph which he had undertaken upon the Polyphonic Motets of Lassus. For my own part I had none of this power of detachment, and the day, in consequence, appeared to be interminable. The great national importance of the issue, the suspense in high quarters, the direct nature of the experiment which we were trying—all combined to work upon my nerve. It was a relief to me when at last, after a light dinner, we set out upon our expedition. This is a wonderful bit of insight into their characters. Watson is anxiety-inclined. Holmes is able to switch that off to a perhaphs unsafe level - anxiety helps keeps you alive, after all, not good to not have it at all.

The man glared round him, staggered, and fell senseless upon the floor. With the shock, his broad-brimmed hat flew from his head, his cravat slipped sown from his lips, and there were the long light beard and the soft, handsome delicate features of Colonel Valentine Walter. The colonel again. I fucking knew it. Careful, Watson, if you can find more words for his beauty you might faint yourself

I did not murder him! I'm innocent! I only did nothing to prevent it and then did not call for help and then helped get rid of the body!

Some weeks afterwards I learned incidentally that my friend spent a day at Windsor, whence be returned with a remarkably fine emerald tie-pin. When I asked him if he had bought it, he answered that it was a present from a certain gracious lady in whose interests he had once been fortunate enough to carry out a small commission. Cadogan West's fiancee gave Holmes a present? That is so sweet

Another fun read. I couldn't care too much about the fate of those papers, but it was a good case. The yellow smog and trains and tunnels added a lot of atmosphere. And Holmes and Watson interacted very cute in this story

#letters from watson #sherlock holmes #the bruce-partington plans

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fancyfeathers · 6 months ago

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the idea of louis carrying albert's shyer daughter around while doing stuff while she's just quiet is soooo cute also the thought of madeline being john's assisstant is sooooo stupidly adorable like i can't comprehend it. like these two would share the same braincell. plus i wanted to pitch an idea : 🩰 darling meeting john a couple of times when william and sherlock interact. i have this idea that john, to her, is one of those rare people who doesn't want anything from her. he is nice becuase he is. no ulterior motives. it is different from albert's darling since they have the same issues. but john is someone separate from her. he is nice for the sake of being. he is gentle and his eyes reflect no master plan. i can imagine him making small talk and she is silently blushing. better make sure william doesn't see the blush tho-

Ahhhh I know! Just imagining Louis caring her all the time because I honestly picture her probably having chronic fatigue (which fun fact I have and I write so much to help me with it) so I think he would have a very special bond with her since he was very sickly as a child and she is quite similar and just wants to be held all the time. Sorry about the tiny bit of angst lol.

But yes just picturing John and Madeline am trying to keep up with the detective and her elder sister would be like a mirror. Like Watson and her just watching the two of them trying to figure out what the fuck they are thinking.

But the idea of her and John being friends melts my heart. Like she has never had anyone truly kind in her life stick around and when they first meet probably on the train she probably doesn’t trust him at first and it wouldn’t be until their second meeting probably in Bath where the painting gets vandalized where she lets her guard around him. I’m just imagining the two of them looking at the paintings in the gallery and she knows how they are done from her time watching the crew making backdrops for the opera and John just listens, and it’s sweet and kind and reminds her of her dead friends. So just whenever Sherlock and William are talking or working together the two of them just go off with perhaps Sherlock’s darling if she is there and the three of them are actually very good friends.

Now I have the really sad visual of John and Sherlock’s darling reminding her of her two dead best friends when they are visiting, Sherlock and William talking on their own, and she just breaks down crying and the two quickly comfort her, wondering what’s wrong. Then William notices and walks over, pulling her away from John and asks her what’s wrong right when she was about to tell John and Sherlock’s darling what happened and why she was crying…

“I…I don’t remember… sorry.”

The Games We Play of Dust and Ash (Yandere Moriarty the Patriot Masterlist)

Father Like Daughter (Yandere William James Moriarty and his darling having a genius daughter)

#william moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #william james moriarty x reader #yandere william james moriarty #yandere moriarty the patriot #yandere yuukoku no moriarty

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m-y--p-a-s-s-i-o-n-s · 1 year ago

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20 Questions for Fic Writers!

Thanks for the tag, @lizzy0305 <333

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

162

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

622,263 - surprisingly low for how many fics I have, but a bunch are drabbles so I guess that checks.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

What fandoms don't I write for? XD

Supernatural. Sherlock. Star Trek. Teen Wolf. Marvel. Harry Potter. Merlin. James Bond. Lucifer. House MD. Primeval. Doctor Who. Venom. The Witcher. The Old Guard. Ted Lasso. Detroit Become Human. Good Omens. Our Flag Means Death. Hannibal.

Plus a few others.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Meant To Be - AOS Star Trek

5 Times Jim Forgot About Vulcan Hand Sensitivity & 1 Time He Didn't - AOS Star Trek

Making Love - Venom

Lunch Break - House MD

Truth Or Dare - Supernatural

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to respond to every comment provided its not hate, I ignore hate. I want people to know that their comment is truly appreciated from the bottom of my heart. Comments are food for the writer's soul.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably either The Void (TOS Star Trek) or Forever (SPN) or most of my SPN Endverse fics.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my fics have happy endings, I live for them! Hmmm trying to think of particularly fluffy ones though... The Prince and The Princess - (AOS Star Trek) What No Man Has Done Before - (AOS Star Trek X HP) Good News - (DBH) Afterlife - (TOS Star Trek)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not too much, but it happens every so often. Why people can't just exit a fic or not interact with it if they don't like it is beyond me.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Sure do. Um, explicit and M/M but the specifics vary depending on pairing and fic. Been getting more detailed and more adventurous with it over the years though.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Ohhhh boi have I ever written a crazy crossover XD

Convergence - where I brought many many fandoms (and even more ships) together in a story with an actual plot.

Its not my only crossover, but it's by far the craziest.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I'm aware of, but I have been asked if some can be translated before, just never heard from them again.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

In a way with @lizzy0305 who started Fragments ages ago and then I finished it because we both knew she wasn't going to finish it.

and also Double Date with weegie8 a long long time ago.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

My OTP of OTPs is Spirk <3

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Theres a johnlock fic that could be the first wip i never go back to.

and an SPN and a Stanner fic that both could stay wips forever, but honestly it just takes one spark in my brain and the right mood and I could finish any of these, so never say never.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Not sure really. My fluff is extra tooth rotting? XD Also once I get used to a character their voice is easy to channel I suppose.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Feels like everything when you're trying to write a damn fic XD um, maybe not putting in enough details into a scene.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I often use Vulcan language in Star Trek fics, I think it adds to it. However I get that it can be annoying to not understand a piece of likely important dialogue cause its in another language. It doesn't bother me though.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Technically HP when I was teen, before I knew what fandom and fanfiction were. But when I was in the know it was Supernatural.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

How can I just pick one? I'll pick a multichapter and a one shot that I love.

The One That Got Away - TOS Star Trek

The Update - DBH

Tagging: @dayspring-askanison @heartshapedvows @doonarose

#tag game #thankies <3

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denimbex1986 · 7 months ago

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'Turn on the vibrator, there's NEWS.

Whether big or small, young or old: We can, should and MUST all agree on one thing: Andrew Scott is the Short King of the Century. For us, he is one of the true Sexiest Men Alive .

The Irish actor has been omnipresent ever since his role as the "Hot Priest" in the British dramedy "Fleabag", whether in the cinema, on the red carpet, on horny Tumblr or in the form of quotes tattooed on wrists.

It doesn't seem to matter what Andrew Scott does: he does it fantastically, authentically and exceptionally. That's why we're all the more pleased about the news we've received about him this week. Because...

1. Andrew Scott stars in part 3 of Netflix's "Knives Out"!

The Netflix crime thriller "Knives Out" is entering its third round and alongside lead actor Daniel Craig, Josh O'Connor ("The Crown", "Challengers") and Cailee Spaeny, Andrew Scott will also be seen in it. Details of the plot or Andrew Scott's role are not yet known, but it is said to be Benoit Blanc's (Craig) "most dangerous case".

In any case, director Rian Johnson has landed an experienced supervillain in Andrew Scott, as he has already convinced us of his dark side as the evil genius Moriarty in "Sherlock", as Bond villain C in "James Bond 007: Spectre" and most recently as Ripley in the crime series of the same name. We expect a release at the end of this year.

2. Our prayers have been answered: Andrew Scott voices the lead role in an erotic radio play

It's a mystery to me how our society hasn't collapsed under the news: Andrew Scott has recorded a dirty audiobook for us. Just like that. It's called "The Queen's Guard" and is available on the American audio erotica website Quinn . According to the episode tags, you can look forward to "Grinding," "Teasing," "Begging," and "MDom" in the first two episodes, and from episode 3 onwards, you'll get penetration for your ears. Thank you, Jesus.

3. And last but not least: this GIF. It's not new, but it warms our hearts.

*heavy breathing*'

#Andrew Scott #Knives Out 3 #Pedro Pascal #Hot Priest #Fleabag #Netflix #Moriarty #Sherlock #C #Spectre #Quinn #Robb the Protector #The Queen's Guard

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guardmesherlock-rowan · 2 years ago

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Heya (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ~

So I went to replay Guard Me Sherlock after years and wow, I still love this game and these characters. It was the first otome game I played and I remember at the time I loved James so much that just seeing his face made me smile for the rest of the day. I still love him, he's cute and funny after all.

I wanted to ask, if possible, if you could give me some tips on how to write him? I don't think I understood his personality well enough for me to be able to write and I had this idea that hasn't gotten out of my head since last year.

It's okay if you don't want to too. It's a rather sudden request. I hope you have a good day! ;3

There was a little bit of a delay in my response. Things have been weird on a personal level.

When it comes to writing characters everyone has their own little trick to write them. These characters still act as intrusive thoughts for me which can be fun but also weird when you're just going about your life and then immediately get judged by a thought of Mycroft Holmes or Hercule Poirot.

When it comes to James I keep a few things in mind:

He is Fabulous

He will do what he can to keep his hands clean

Is it very easy for this man to turn a compliment into a backhanded compliment

He is good at reading someone and knows how to charm them

And if he can't charm them then he's not above lowkey threatening or teasing them with plausible deniability

If I feel like I'm off from his voice I go to the short stories in the game and reread them to refine his vibe in my head.

#talk to me #writing craft

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sokai-asuki · 1 year ago

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Deep Blue Moon: "You're not real, aren't ya?"

This is in "A Study In 'S'" chapter part for Deep Blue Moon. I change all the characters role in here, tell me if there's something you would want to suggest to me about the characters, so that I would update something about them later.

(WARNING: GRAMMAR/TYPO)

"Before deciding this, are you really sure to do this? You do realize it might even cost your life..."

"Yes," said a man to Mrs. Hudson as she guarding one of the door behind her, "Besides, I think he knows about my condition. My body… Couldn't handle it much longer… If I'm gonna die, he also better off dead to know the cause of suffering he did to me…"

Mrs. Hudson looks unsure until the door behind her unlock.

"You must be Jefferson Hope, correct?"

Jefferson Hope, look up to a man at the door. There's also another person inside the room but he couldn't see the appearance of the said person.

"Don't worry, he will tell you the plan later on," said the man at the door, "After the plan been planted, the kids from downstairs will contact you later on."

The answer seems to be enough for Jefferson as he walk down the stairs and leave the 211B Baker Street.

Mrs. Hudson look at the man and glance at the man in the room, "Are you sure we could trust him, Sherlock?"

"That's what I've been thinking too, Sherlock... Are you sure a guy that has been seeking revenge to a noble that has done all wrong-doing, would follow the plan?"

"Yes..." Sherlock said, not looking up at the document he is currently reading, "A man like Jefferson Hope, hold a deeply grudge against the noble of our next target. It is justifically reasonable for him to hold the grudge, especially when the said grudge are this big. I say he has no set attachment to the world, considering he never say anything about his family... A person who had just lost someone he loves... A perfect kind of person to trust..."

Mrs. Hudson and John glance at each other and smile softly at their Sherlock, here he go again...

"If you say so, Sherlock..." Mrs. Hudson said, get used to Sherlock's next scheme.

"What about the noble you were talking about before?" Suddenly John's question has just arise, "Don't take me for a fool Sherlock, I know what you're going to do..."

Sherlock look at John and let out a chuckle, "You started to sound like Mycky..." then he pull out a smile for John, "Of course, his gonna make a debut in here, John. And I have a perfect role in mind, just for him..."

————

"Brother, I made a tea for you."

"Ah, thank you Louis," William James Moriarty said, he look up from the newspaper he had just read.

"Don't you think it's a bit late, brother? Don't you need sleep?" Louis asked in concern and worry for his brother's health.

"No, I think I can pass a few of my time to read. Besides, another noble murder had just been made again..."

Louis look at the newspaper William has been reading, the part of the last news about the noble's death again.

"...It seems like, someone had just stood up to take down the system of this rotten country..." William muttered but Louis could clearly hear him.

"Brother..."

Suddenly a knock can be heard from downstairs. Louis and William paused and look at each other and back to the door of Willaim's study room's door.

Louis finally goes to get the door from downstairs but Albert open the door before him.

"Gentlemen, is there a reason for this late night meeting?" Albert said at the people outside.

"Is William James Moriarty here?"

"Yes, I am his brother.... Mind telling me what you have bussiness with him?"

————

"He gets away..."

"...Inspector Lestrade, lying isn't suit for you, you know?" Sherlock let out a pout like a child when they found out something their parents has been teasing them non-stop, "You helped him, correct?"

"...Yes, I'm sorry Sherlock."

The plan for Jefferson that Sherlock gives are all been given out to the man but one extra thing is that Jefferson need to write William's full name to frame the man. The reason for that name is to test William.

It seems the Scotland Yard are too naive and glulible to believe that 'fake dying message'. And Sherlock knows Inspector Lestrade help William.

"But what I want to know is how he can make you to help him?" Sherlock said, even if he is a genius, Sherlock is very curious on how William do that.

"It-"

"It was me," a new voice help Inspector Lestrade, Sherlock look at the source of the voice, "I told Lestrade if William had asked him or Mr. Patterson to help him escape, then they should."

Sherlock looks like he want to tell Mycroft on why he did that but Mycroft beat him, "Sherly, I know how much you get bored if you found your puzzle has been taken away from you."

Mycroft can see Sherlock's face started to turn pink and turn away from his older brother, Mycroft sigh, "Besides, I think you would like to see how William exposed the nobles' sins, considered himself is a noble too..."

"..." Sherlock didn't say anything as Mycroft come closer to where Sherlock's chair is, patting his little brother's head.

"You did a good thing to let him escape, Inspector Lestrade. And Wiggins will come here-"

*knock knock*

"-Right now."

————

"Are you sure of this, Mr. Louis?"

"If it means, exposing the killer that frame William, I would do anything to help him just like how he help me." Louis said as held up a ring to check it.

It is an engagement ring, wedding ring, sad that the killer might doing this for his wife, whose a victim of that noble...

A knock has just come, Louis open the door, expecting the killer but turns out to be a kid with a cloak. It is understandle for a cloak to wear since it is raining right now. Louis can see the kid is a young boy, the cloak seems to be torn up but still has a use of it, unfortunetely because of the rain, he can't see much of the boy's appearances.

"Sorry to bothering you, mister. But in the newspaper, it has said you found a ring." The kid said, before Louis could say anything else, the kid beat him to it, "My sister name is Lucy, her name should be engraved on the ring? Or that was what she said..."

"Indeed," Louis said unsure to trust the kid. It could be a trap...

"Sister Lucy has been upset ever since her ring dissapear. She has just married last year. Her husband is out of town, I'm taking care of her now to make sure she's alright." The kid explained.

"Oh, is that so?" Louis' head started to feel dizzy, all of that has nothing to do with the case, "Here, make sure to tell your sister to be alright..."

"I will, thank you mister."

... "Fred, get Moran."

————

Wiggins knows he is being follow, but he knows this area more than whoever this person that follow him.

After he walks a bit faster, he get in the alley way and started to sprint faster. He can hear a heavy footstep.

Wiggins can sense the person is a man, and the man is in set ready to fight off the kid. Wiggins dodge the attack but the man is faster than he thought.

Suddenly the man is being ambushed by Reed and Yuri. The man took this as a surprised and back away as to not hurt kids that came out of nowhere.

Before Wiggins could run away, he hear the man shouted, "Fred, now!"

Wiggins look up and saw a young man, older than him but not much older like a man that follow him, seems to be trying to landed on him.

Thankfully Batora pulls Wiggins away from the landing. They saw the young man slowly standing and turn to Wiggins and Batora. Before he could do took a step forward suddenly another kid came and drop a marble on the ground in front of Fred.

The three kids ran away, Fred turn around and found Moran fall back. It seems Moran fall for that marble tricks. Reed, Yuri and another new kid ran away from the opposite side.

Moran sat up and hold his head, "Man, can't believe the mastermind brought kids in their group..."

————

Louis started to think back to everything that has been happening 2 days ago. Louis know William can protect himself but the worried feelings keep on swallowing him.

He is drinking a tea from a cafe, or at least this is the cafe Albert said to him because William want to tell Louis something urgent and related to the case. No matter what, Louis would protect William like how he protect Louis when they were younger.

"Louis, are you ready to go?"

Louis look up and saw his brother William, he cover himself with a cloak. Louis look behind his brother and found a carriage. Something is up...

And it is right on the gut, everything has been revealed to Louis as William explained. The noble, Enoch J. Drebber's wrong-doing, the victim, the cause of suffering he did to his other victims, and the killer... Jefferson Hope, the killer of Enoch J. Drebber and the coachman of the carriage they are in right now.

"BROTHER, WHAT THE–"

————

So the conditions are, if William willing to kill Jefferson than he will get the information of the mastermind and reveal that Jefferson is the culprit,

"How can I know about the mastermind when you're already gone?" He asked Jefferson that.

"Remember the kids," the topic about the kids brought Louis back to mind, Moran and Fred told him what happened to the ring, "You may not see them but they are around here, especially the leader of those kids' group."

The said leader was on the tree at Jefferson's side. The kid not look much older...

What's the other condition? Simple, not kill Jefferson and just handed him to the Scotland Yard but not getting the information of the mastermind.

"You finally get your goal and have your vengeance, so why me?" William said.

"That person, thinks highly of you. Even if I have no child, I know how that person feel when he spokes about you, admiring you like no other, and can't get you out of his head like a child can't get something out of theirs when there's something that unsolvable for them..." Jefferson said.

"Like a child, do you really think of this mastermind as a child?" William asked.

"Yes, but at the same time no. He is no ordinary one, no prodigy but very collective. Continue on with the plan as if time can't stop his plan, at that full night, even if it dark, I know the smells of blood is strong but with him, the blood started to wash away. He is a true criminal, a mastermind. Nothing can stop him no matter what until the dawn pick up and midnight strike. How's that, Mr. Moriarty... Does that get your curiosity?"

Everything is silence, nothing is spoken. The kid started to feel uncomfortable with the tension when suddenly a sound of gun being loaded appear.

On William's hand, a gun... And the said gun, pointed at Jefferson Hope.

Wiggins can see William's brother look at his brother with disbelief and yelling at his brother, protesting on what his brother is planning right now. Jefferson seems to be encouraged William to end him, end his story, end him so he could meet his Lucy again but knows heaven will never accept a killer like him.

Then the sound gunshot being heard. So loud to the point the crows are flying away from the scene.

However, instead of someone being dead, Jefferson is alive and still breathing. William purposely missing the shot and still give Jefferson that smile, the smile of him knows everything and yet not everyone knows it.

"Jefferson Hope... Hope... You really hoping I killed you? No, I'm not." William said as he lower the gun, "I know you may not believe me when I said this since I too am a noble but, I really admire your determination for still keep up with this plan even if it might cost you your life. I do want to know the mastermind but if it's a game that the mastermind wants, then I don't mind playing the role of the game he made."

"Brother..." Louis looks like he is in the verge of crying. His brother always make something so surprising...

William look at Louis and smile, "Sorry for scaring you Louis,"

"No, it's okay." Louis wipe a small tear on his eyes and finally look at his brother, "I'm just, glad you still..."

William know what Louis would say, he look back at Jefferson and turn to the kid at the tree, "Hey kid, by any chance, do you have a spare cuff?"

Wiggins landed on the ground and slowly walk towards William, them pulled out a rope. He give William the rope as he tossed it on the floor until it in front William.

"And, tell him," William grab the rope and glance around him, knowing the other kids are ready to leave, "That I gladly play this game of cat and mouse."

Finally, the kids gone. William tied up Jefferson's hand.

————

"He... He really did it..."

That's the first thing John said as he read the latest newspaper again and again to confirm what Wiggins said.

A noble exposed Enoch J. Drebber’s sins and exposed the real killer of Enoch J. Drebber. William James Moriarty...

His not a detective and yet, solve the case so easily...

"Seems like letting him escape with Inspector Lestrade's help was necessary in your part, Mycky..."

"But all of the plans was yours, brother mine. So don't give me too much credit..." Mycroft said as he pat Sherlock's head. Sherlock always let himself calm when his brother did something like this but now, his thought about William solving the case was just...

"He is in a place where he could get the information and yet, he denied it..." Inspector Lestrade said as he think back what happened at the Scotland Yard station, William walk in with Jefferson, his hand tied up together.

Then the motive and behind the scene of the murderer being reveal and also with Jefferson agreed with everything.

"I think, Mr. William is really unlike us, Inspector Lestrade." Mrs. Hudson said, as she handed out teas for everyone, "Unlike us, a victim of the nobles, I believe he find the error of the nobles and it system... Yes, he himself is a noble but maybe, there's something about him–"

"That makes it interesting..." Sherlock cut off Mrs. Hudson, as he think back to what he heard about the Moriarty...

The Moriarty adopted a child from the orphanage, keyword; child. No plural. Moriarty have two sons, Albert James Moriarty and William James Moriarty... But unlike his Albert, who always run an errand for his family, William never goes outside. No one knows what the second son look like or act...

'Ah... Liam... You are not the real William, aren't ya?'

Sherlock chuckle at the thought...

————

#yuumori #yuumori au #role reversal au #deep blue moon #moriarty the patriot #sherlock holmes #yuukoku no moriarty #william james moriarty #sherliam #louis james moriarty #john watson #mycroft holmes

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