#just by seeing someone here is 'little eurus'

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 4) Chapter Twenty-Six

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter Twenty-Six: Final Problem

Summary: (Y/N) faces Eurus's game.

            “(Y/N)!”

            (Y/N) heard Sherlock’s sobs as they opened their eyes. They groaned as the headache of the drug returned and the world spun.

            “I’m here,” they said, still feeling like their tongue was heavy. Slowly, they lifted an arm. It seemed to move in slow motion. “I’m here, Dad.”

            “(Y/N),” said Sherlock in pure relief.

            (Y/N) felt the IV and squeezed their eyes shut. They took a deep breath and pulled. Luckily, the drugs numbed the pain, so they felt a pressure and then nothing. Still, when they pulled their hand away from their arm, blood remained on their hand.

            (Y/N) didn’t bother to wipe it as they rolled over and tried to push themself to their feet. Their arms and legs shook, but they got up. Their whole body trembled, dirt and dust had swept over them, and blood ran down their arm. They looked how they felt—horrible.

            “How’s John?” said (Y/N) as they blinked and looked around. It took time for their eyes to focus every time they moved, and they needed someone’s voice to keep their mind focused.

            “He’s stuck in a well,” said Sherlock. “It’s flooding. It’s like Redbeard, and if I can’t find him, she won’t give me the clue to you—”

            “I’ll get out,” said (Y/N). “We need to find John.” They groaned and fell against the wall to support themself.

            “(Y/N)?” said Sherlock sharply.

            “I’m here,” said (Y/N). “What’s the clue?”

            “The song,” said Sherlock. He looked around himself and shouted for Eurus to hear. “But I went through line by line years ago, and I found nothing!”

            (Y/N) stumbled forward, eyes barely seeing, keeping their fingers sliding against the wall to guide them. They could feel a slight breeze. They had to be somewhere. Obviously, the drugs had been meant to keep them down. Undoubtedly, if (Y/N) didn’t have the mind they had they had, they would have just laid there listlessly until they died.

            But they had their family. They were focused. And they were the clever one.

            So (Y/N) was pulling themself foot by foot out of whatever hellhole Eurus had stuck them in. They were going to beat her game and figure everything out.

            “There was nothing!” said Sherlock to Eurus. “There…There was a beech tree in the grounds, and I dug, I dug and dug and dug. Sixteen feet by six, sixteen yards, sixteen meters, and I found nothing! No one!”

            “Sherlock, (Y/N)?” said John.

            “Oh, it was a clever little puzzle,” said Eurus. “Wasn’t it? So why couldn’t you work it out, Sherlock?” She paused. “There’s something you need to know. Emotional context. And here it comes.”

            “Sherlock, the bones I found…” John trailed off.

            “Yes, they’re dog bones, that’s Redbeard,” said Sherlock.

            “Mycroft’s been lying to you, to all of us,” said John. “They’re not dog bones.”

            “Remember Daddy’s allergy? What was he allergic to?” remarked Eurus. “What would he never let you have all those times you begged?” Sherlock froze. “Well, he’d never let you have a dog.”

            Sherlock groaned as he was thrown into memories.

            “Your funny little memory, Sherlock,” said Eurus. “You were upset, so you told yourself a better story. But we never had a dog.”

            “Victor,” breathed Sherlock. Redbeard had been a boy. His friend.

            “Now it’s coming,” said Sherlock.

            “Victor Trevor,” said Sherlock. “We played pirates. I was Yellowbeard, and he was…He was Redbeard.” The pain was evident in his voice as he spoke.

            “You were inseparable,” said Eurus. “But I wanted to play, too.”

            The words bounced around (Y/N)’s head, and they found their sight focusing ever-so-slightly better as they paused and furrowed their brow. Small bits of words, of observations, of clues, began to flit around and spin together.

            “Oh, god,” said Sherlock. He sobbed. “What…What did you do?”

            “I that am lost. Oh, who will find me?” sang Eurus blankly. “Deep down below the old beech tree.” She paused. “Deep water, Sherlock, all your life, in all your dreams. Deep waters.”

            “You killed him,” breathed Sherlock. “You killed my best friend.”

            “I never had a best friend,” said Eurus.

            Another phrase added to the jumble in (Y/N)’s mind, and things started to come together as they pushed forward. Their feet hit stairs, and they dragged a foot up.

            “I had no one,” said Eurus. “No one.”

            All the pieces fit together, and (Y/N) froze.

            “You wanted me to play with you,” said Sherlock softly. “And I didn’t.”

            “Dad,” said (Y/N).

            Sherlock gasped thankfully at hearing their voice again to break up Eurus’s words.

            “She wanted to play with you,” said (Y/N). “Where did you play?”

            Sherlock paused, and his eyes widened. Eurus furrowed her brow on the screen.

            “Oh, you brilliant thing, you,” breathed Sherlock. “Will you—”

            “I’ll be fine,” said (Y/N). “Go play.” They grinned and pushed themself up the stairs. The problem unraveled with each step.

            Sherlock’s focused gaze went to the screen. “You want to play? Okay. Let’s play.” He took the lantern and ran outside. He ran outside to the strange graves he used to play in.

            “The wrong dates,” he muttered. “She used the wrong dates from the gravestones as the key to the cipher, and the cipher was the song.”

            “Is this strictly relevant?” shouted John as he kept himself from falling beneath the rising water levels.

            “Yes, it is. I’ll be with you in a minute,” promised Sherlock. The numbers jumped out, and as the words circled in his mind, the clues came apart.

            “The lights are getting closer!” said the little girl in his ear fearfully. “The plane is going towards them!”

            “Hush now, working,” said Sherlock. He had it. He was getting it.

l

            (Y/N) pushed the door at the top of the stairs open. They heaved a breath as the cool night air washed over them. They stood in a corridor with broken windows on each side and no ceiling. They were in Musgrave Hall. They’d been trapped in what would have been servant quarters a hundred years ago, with a staircase just for them so they wouldn’t be seen. Sherlock would have gone off into the surrounding land to find John and be drawn away from (Y/N) being right there.

            But (Y/N) had gotten out. They had found the strength to push through.

            And they had found the cleverness to solve the final problem.

            (Y/N) looked down the hall at a single room. They had heard Sherlock muttering, and as he solved the cipher, it only made their conclusion all the more certain.

            Help me, brother. I am lost without your love. Save my soul. Seek my room.

            (Y/N) walked down the hall, keeping their focus on one foot in front of the other. They reached the doorway and summoned their bravery. They pushed the door open.

            “Hello, Eurus,” they said softly.

            Eurus was curled up, holding herself close. “You’re playing the game.” Her eyes were closed, and the voice of the little girl came from her.

            The little girl. Alone. No one to help her. No one to guide her. No one to care for her. Alone above everyone else, feeling like she was going to crash.

            Lost.

            “I know,” said (Y/N), kneeling in front of Eurus. “The song was to find you.”

            “I’m in the plane. I’m going to crash,” said Eurus. “And my family’s going to save me.”

            “High above us. Alone in the sky,” murmured (Y/N), looking at Eurus. “Scared because you can understand everything except for landing and connecting.” They moved a little closer as Eurus held her knees to her chest.

            (Y/N) remembered the pity they’d felt as soon as Mycroft explained Eurus’s inability to understand emotion. They remembered how all of her experiments revolved around feelings. They remembered how she wanted to see her family interacting with the people they cared about.

            Eurus couldn’t understand the heart. She had all the intelligence in the world, but she couldn’t understand a single emotion. Not even her own loneliness. She knew was missing something and hated the feeling, but she couldn’t understand it. She couldn’t ask for help because she had no idea what the problem was.

            Intelligence couldn’t feel the hole that loneliness left.

            “I understand,” said (Y/N) gently. They vaguely heard footsteps running down the hall below, but all their focus as the drugs pulsed through their veins remained with Eurus. “I felt apart. I was alone when I was young. But someone found me. Someone can find you.”

            “It’s too late now,” said the small, fragile voice.

            Footsteps ran up the stairs.

            “It’s not too late,” said (Y/N).

            “No, no.” The voice became Eurus’s, but it still shook with pain and emotion. “Every time I close my eyes, I’m on the plane. I’m lost. Lost in the sky. And…no one can hear me.”

            “I hear you,” said (Y/N). “Sherlock hears you. He’s coming.” They blinked as the world spun. They needed to hold on a little longer. The footsteps ended in the doorway behind them. “Open your eyes, Eurus. We’re here.”

            Sherlock knelt beside (Y/N) and Eurus. Eurus’s eyes opened. Tears had collected in her eyes.

            “You’re not lost any more,” said Sherlock softly. “We can bring you home.”

            Eurus sobbed. Sherlock pulled her into a hug. (Y/N) swallowed and watched with a heavy heart.

            “Now, you just…” Sherlock swallowed. “You just went the wrong way last time, that’s all. This time, get it right. Tell us how to save our friend.”

            “Eurus,” said (Y/N), and her eyes went to them. “Help us save John Watson.”

l

            John shivered and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. (Y/N) lay in Sherlock’s arms as he carried them. The high was still subsiding, but the worst of it as over. (Y/N) shook as they burrowed into his coat, and Sherlock held them tightly.

            All of them watched Eurus let herself be led to a transport vehicle to take her back to…somewhere. Sherrinford, if everyone could be replaced. A new facility, if it was too compromised.

            “We just spoke to your brother,” said Lestrade, coming towards the group.

            He and the other police men, rescue workers, and EMTs had arrived on the scene the minute Sherlock had access to a phone and Eurus’s instructions on how to find and save John. They had all arrived at the right moment.

            “How is he?” said Sherlock.

            “He’s a bit shaken up, that’s all,” said Lestrade. “She didn’t hurt him. She just locked him in her old cell.”

            “What goes around, comes around.” John was recovering well. He had his sarcasm back.

            “Give me a moment, boys. (Y/N), can I get you anything?” said Lestrade. “A trip to the hospital, maybe?”

            “Later,” said (Y/N), just wanting to lay with their family for a while more.

            “Alright,” said Lestrade, walking towards his men.

            “Um, Mycroft,” said Sherlock. “Make sure he’s looked after. He’s not as strong as he thinks he is.”

            “Yeah, I’ll take care of it,” said Lestrade.

            “Thanks, Greg,” said Sherlock.

            John and Lestrade looked at him in astonishment even as Lestrade walked away.

            “Is the helicopter ready, man?” said Lestrade.

            “Yes,” said the policeman.

            “Then let’s move her,” said Lestrade.

            “Is that them, sir? Sherlock and (Y/N) Holmes?” said the policeman.

            “A fan, are you?” said Lestrade.

            Sherlock turned his back, and John joined him. (Y/N) just lay their head on Sherlock’s shoulder.

            “Well, they’re great people, sir,” said the policeman.

            “No, they’re better than that,” said Lestrade. “They’re good people.”

            (Y/N) smiled.

            “You okay?” said John quietly.

            “I said I’d bring her home,” said Sherlock. “I can’t, can I?”

            “Well, you gave her what she was looking for,” said John. “You and (Y/N). Context.”

            “Is that good?” wondered (Y/N) quietly.

            “It’s not good, it’s not bad, it’s…it is what it is,” said John.

            (Y/N) hummed and leaned their head against Sherlock again. They all stood silently for several long minutes until (Y/N)’s eyes started to blink slowly, and they furrowed their brow as a headache came on. They began to feel the burn of their bleeding arm, too.

            “I think it’s time for the hospital,” said Sherlock softly, squeezing them gently. He noticed every sign of discomfort.

            “If you insist,” said (Y/N), sighing. They closed their eyes. “Remind me to tell Mycroft something when I’m up and about again.”

            “Oh?” said John.

            (Y/N) grinned as their consciousness slipped away. “I’m the clever one.”

l

            “Alive? For all these years?!” cried Mrs. Holmes. She glared furiously at Mycroft cross his desk. Mr. Holmes stood beside her, equally as angry. (Y/N) and Sherlock hung back near the door. “How is that even possible?”

            “What Uncle Rudi began…I though it best to continue,” said Mycroft.

            “I’m not asking how you did it, you idiot boy!” exclaimed Mrs. Holmes. “I’m asking how could you?”

            “I was trying to be kind,” said Mycroft softly.

            “Kind?” Mrs. Holmes scoffed. “Kind? You’ve told us our daughter was dead.”

            “Better that than tell you what she had become,” said Mycroft. “I’m sorry.”

            “Whatever she became,” said Mr. Holmes. “Whatever she is now, Mycroft, she remains our daughter.”

            “And my sister,” said Mycroft.

            “Then you should have done better,” said Mrs. Holmes.

            “He did his best,” said Sherlock.

            “Then he’s very limited,” said Mrs. Holmes.

            “Where is she?” said Mr. Holmes.

            “Back in Sherrinford. Secure, this time,” said Mycroft. “People have died. Without doubt, she will kill again if she has the opportunity. There’s no possibility she’ll ever be able to leave.”

            “When can we see her?” said Mr. Holmes.

            “There’s no point,” said Mycroft.

            “How dare you say that!” snapped Mrs. Holmes.

            “She won’t talk,” said Mycroft. “She won’t communicate with anyone in any way. She has passed beyond our view. There are no words that can reach her now.”

            “Sherlock?” said Mrs. Holmes, looking at her younger son. “Well? You were always the grown-up. What do we do now?”

            Sherlock looked at (Y/N). They looked back at him. He nodded, and they looked at Mr. Holmes, Mrs. Holmes, and Mycroft.

            “I…have an idea,” said (Y/N).

            “Tell us,” said Mrs. Holmes. “Please.”

l

            Sherlock and (Y/N) stood outside Eurus’s cell. She sat on a stool, facing away from them. She didn’t move or even flinch as they opened their bags and took out their violins. They stood, positioned themselves,

            and played.

            Their music wove together into a tune that communicated just how much they felt in that moment. They played and let the sound reach Eurus, even as she just sat there.

            Abruptly, she stood. She moved robotically to face them. Sherlock and (Y/N) paused. She looked at them, face and eyes blank. (Y/N) and Sherlock resumed.

            Eurus picked up her violin and positioned it. She drew the bow across the strings. Her music joined theirs.

            Words were beyond her, but, just as (Y/N) had seen before, her associated of feelings with songs, rhythm, music, meant there was something that could reach her. Eurus didn’t have to be alone anymore. The Holmes family could still find one another, even when seemingly lost. They would play as long as it took for Eurus to be able to look at her family and really see them.

            The Final Problem was solved.

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[elvisabutler]

Miss girl!!! I was looking at the old old red carpet pictures of Olivia in the turquoise dress with Austin and it made me think of little dove and how if they hadn’t spoken since the end of filming/occasional red carpet - how does she feel watching his career now? and his girlfriends? and how he looks like a superstar now but he used to just look like a pretty, sweet boy?

curious to what we're talking about? click here for the little dove verse.

MISS GIRL. god no one ever calls me that anymore. it's always MISS MA'AM. you've won me over and forced me to give you my heart for that. and thus get an answer

okay! so. the infamous well if they never got back together sort of timeline/idea. see, when eurus and i first came up with this au she was always more of the girl who did it where they never came back together/spoken that sort of thing. but in the time since then i have thought about it. and it's truly sort of the basis of this au i once got asked about where they come back together 10 years in the future.

and here's the thing, she'd be proud of him. for all of the mess that would be attached to their relationship in her mind, she'd still care for him and be so proud he's doing so well. because there was pillow talk about where to go in their careers before the character bleed really took hold. and she'd know he wanted to do more work and the producer element. she'd know all this and she'd be the first person who read the article and went that's my boy. wouldn't post about it, probably. but she'd be so unbelievably proud. though, she'd be jealous of the girlfriends. like she'd try not to be, but she fell so hard and deep for him- even if she thinks when they break up it's just the bleed from playing priscilla. that seeing him be in love with someone else? that stings a lot. lily was a lot. and then kaia is a lot and just. she tries to not dwell on it too much.

as for him looking like a superstar? um. let's just say she perhaps enjoys the videos from like the ysl campaign a bit too much and generally swoons a lil seeing him on occasion. it also makes her step her game, oddly enough? like call it being competitive, call it wanting to make herself more equal to him? it's weird. she really just wants to get that same sort of glow up. like used to be sweet little girl ( who has those rumors chasing her ) and now look at her being a superstar queen.

so basically proud as punch but also jealous and a bit you could be the king but watch the queen conquer vibes for her own life.

[my-head-is-an-animal]

The Sitter

Mycroft Holmes x Bethany Wheeler (OFC)

Story Masterlist

Chapter 19 - The Final Problem: Part 1

John was placed on Eurus’s bed unconscious while Sherlock was still trying to get his breath back after being attacked. Bethany just sat against the wall opposite the Governor and Mycroft stood close by. It was quiet for a while, Mycroft loosened his tie and tried to focus on how they could get out, going over every detail of everything he knew about his sister and Sherrinford itself.

Sherlock paced and soon John was waking up.

‘How are you?’ Sherlock asked.

‘Bit of a lump.’ John groaned as he slowly started to sit up.

‘True that, but you have your uses.’

‘You see your sister?’

‘Yes.’

‘How was that?’ John began rubbing his temples, trying to clear his mind a little from the hit he’d taken.

‘Family’s always difficult.’

‘Is this an occasion for banter?’ Mycroft cut in, growing annoyed at how they were still treating this like a game.

‘Case. In point.’ Sherlock gestured to Mycroft. There was a ringing sound within the cell, like a phone dialling.

‘Are we phoning someone?’ John asked, managing to get up properly.

‘Apparently.’

‘What’s he doing here?’ He gestured to the Governor.

‘As he is told.’ Sherlock answered, glaring at the man sitting in the corner. ‘Beth’s got her eye on him, no need to worry.’

‘Both eyes.’ Bethany said, glaring at him. Mycroft wasn’t sure he’d seen this side of her before and he wasn’t sure what he thought of in.

‘Eurus is in control.’ As soon as Sherlock said it the phone that was dialling was answered by a little girl.

‘Help me, please.’ She was crying. The sound made Bethany stand up immediately. ‘I’m on a plane, everyone’s asleep. Help me.’

The lights pinged red, and Moriarty’s voice replaced the little girls.

‘Hello, my name’s Jim Moriarty. Welcome to the Final Problem.’ He said.

‘Don’t worry, he’s dead.’ Sherlock assured everyone.

‘He doesn’t sound dead.’ John sighed.

‘This is a recorded announcement,’ every time Moriarty spoke the lights went red. ‘Please say hello to some very old friends of mine.’

‘Hello?’ The little girl sobbed again. ‘I can hear you talking. Please help me. I’m on a plane and it’s going to crash.’

The lights went back to white. ‘What is this?’ Mycroft cut in. ‘We can’t do this.’

‘Do shut up, dear.’ Sherlock dismissed him.

‘Is someone there?’ The girl cried again. Bethany was getting agitated next to him.

‘Is this supposed to be a game?’ Mycroft asked more urgently.

‘Be quiet.’ Sherlock told him.

‘Please help me.’

‘Oh, hello, erm…’ Sherlock looked to Bethany to help him calm the little girl. ‘Try to stay calm… just tell me what your name is.’

‘I’m not supposed to tell my name to strangers.’

Bethany suddenly shifted, she had a small frown on, Mycroft knew she’d picked up on something, but even after running the moment through in his head a few times, he just couldn’t hear what had her frowning like that.

‘Of course not,’ Sherlock had to think of something else. ‘Very good, but… I’ll tell you mine, I’m-‘ The line suddenly cut out, leaving them wondering what had happened, had the plane crashed? ‘Hello?’

‘Oh dear,’ Eurus suddenly appeared on the screen in front of them. ‘We seem to have lost the connection.’

Mycroft stepped forward feeling his anger building again. ‘How have you done this? How is any of this possible?’ He demanded, trying to take some control of the situation.

‘You put me in here Mycroft, you brought me my treats.’ She said, her voice remaining level. The room glanced at him and suddenly he didn’t feel so in control.

‘What treats?’ John asked. Mycroft remained silent as he went through every single time Eurus had asked for something and he’d complied.

‘Why is she looking at me like that?’ Eurus suddenly asked. ‘Why is her face all funny?’ It became apparent that she was talking about Bethany and Mycroft felt a surge of something protective.

‘Eurus, let us out of here.’ Mycroft demanded again.

‘No, I don’t think so.’ Eurus barely even thought about the answer. ‘I want to know how it felt.’

‘What?’

‘When you kissed her. Did you like it? Did she feel nice?’

Mycroft felt his heart drop, how could Eurus have known that he’d kissed Bethany.

‘Eurus, how do you he kissed me?’ Bethany’s voice cracked slightly.

‘Your face is so funny. Are you thinking?’

‘I am. I’m thinking a lot about the voice of that little girl on the plane. How scared and lonely she must be.’

There was a faint pause. Eurus was jarred just a little, which meant Bethany was on to something and Mycroft needed to pay attention to it.

‘Oh look, she thinks she’s worked it out, but you haven’t, we’ve barely begun. I didn’t think Mycroft would let you come here, but don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll have your use… eventually.’

The lights went red. ‘Clever Eurus! You go girl.’ Moriarty sang through the speakers.

‘How can that be Moriarty?’ John asked, no longer involving Mycroft.

‘Oh, he recorded lots of little messages for me before he died.’ Eurus seemed to have a soft spot for him. ‘Loved it. Did you know his brother was a station master? I think he was always jealous.’

‘The girl,’ Sherlock tried to get to what was important in that moment. ‘Where is she? Can I talk to her again?’

‘Poor little thing. Alone in the sky on a great big plane with nowhere to land. But where in the world is she? It’s a clever little puzzle. If you want to apply yourself, I can reconnect you, but first…’ Eurus turn her chair to reveal what was behind her. A woman tied up in a chair on the balcony behind the Governor’s office.

‘That’s my wife.’ The Governor suddenly stood up to beg for his wife’s life. ‘That’s my wife! Oh God that’s my wife!’

‘I’m going to shoot the Governor’s wife.’ Eurus said, disturbingly casually. Mycroft sucked in a deep breath.

‘Please. No.’ The Governor begged. ‘Please, help her.’

‘In about a minute… bang! Dead.’

‘Please don’t do that.’ Sherlock asked, calmly. Mycroft could see Bethany’s chest heaving a little quickly, she was starting to panic, but he didn’t know how to help her.

‘Well, you can stop me.’

‘How?’

‘There’s a gun in the hatch. Take it.’ Sherlock hesitated, before going over to the hatch and taking out the gun. ‘You want to save the Governor’s wife. Choose Beth, Dr Watson or Mycroft to kill the Governor.’

‘Oh… oh god.’ The Governor breathed.

Sherlock looked between Mycroft and John, not even thinking about handing the gun to Bethany. He went to approach the Governor himself.

‘You can’t do it Sherlock,’ Eurus stopped him. ‘If you do it, it won’t count. I’ll kill her anyway. It has to be your brother or your friends.’

Sherlock thought for a moment.

‘You have to do this.’ The Governor said, turning to Mycroft who felt fear flood through his being. ‘Eurus will kill her.’

Sherlock adjusted the gun and took a step towards Mycroft. ‘Doesn’t appear we have a choice.’ He held the gun out, but Mycroft just looked at it horrified.

‘Right then,’ Eurus said. ‘Countdown starting.’

Mycroft didn’t dare touch the gun. ‘How long?’

‘No, no, no. The countdown is for me. Withholding the precise deadline, will apply the emotional pressure. Where possible, please give me an explicit indication of your anxiety levels. I can’t always read them from your behaviour.’

Mycroft thought about taking the gun for just a split second before deciding he couldn’t do it. ‘I can’t do this.’ He shook his head, hating himself for a moment, but refusing to play this childish game. ‘I can’t, it’s murder.’

‘It’s not murder.’ The Governor begged. ‘This is saving my wife.’

‘I’m particularly focused on internal conflicts where strategizing round a largely intuitive moral code appears to create a counter-intuitive result.’ Eurus explained, though it barely did anything to ease his mind. Sherlock moved the gun a little closer, but Mycroft just couldn’t do it.

‘I will not kill.’ He said, defiantly. ‘I will not have blood on my hands.’

‘Yes, very good, thank you.’

‘Killing my wife is what you’re doing.’ The Governor tried again to convince Mycroft to do it.

‘I’ll do it.’ Bethany spoke up.

Everyone turned to her, surprised that she was willing to do it. The Governor was shaking, he was silently thanking Bethany for stepping up.

Sherlock slowly turned the handle of the gun towards her. ‘Are you sure?’

She cleared her throat. ‘We don’t have a choice.’ She wrapped her hand around the gun, but Sherlock didn’t let go just yet. She looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears. ‘The likely outcome is that Eurus will kill the Governor anyway, regardless of what we do, at least this way, we can save his wife.’

Sherlock watched her, trying to decipher her thoughts. He slowly released the gun and Bethany took a moment to hold it. Clearly, she’d never held a gun before. John stepped forward.

‘You don’t have to do this.’ He said.

‘One of us has to.’

Bethany looked at the shaking Governor. Her courage was faltering, but she tried to prepare anyway. She didn’t raise the gun for a while.

‘Beth, have you ever been in love?’ The Governor asked. The question caught her off guard and she swallowed, confirming that she had. ‘What happened?’

‘Not good enough for him.’ Bethany was trying to hold onto her tears.

‘Would you have given your life save him? If he was here now?’

‘Yes.’ She barely made any sound, wiping her tears away.

‘Eurus will kill me. Please save my wife.’ He begged.

‘There will I’m afraid be regularly prompts,’ Eurus interrupted. ‘To create an atmosphere of urgency.’ The lights went red again and Moriarty could be heard making ticking noises.

Mycroft wished he’d had the courage to do it for her. Bethany was too kind for this, too innocent.

‘Beth, it’s okay.’ John slowly took the gun. ‘It’s okay, I’ve got it. You don’t need to do this.’

Bethany’s eyes closed, disappointed with herself. John stood and readied himself.

‘What’s your name?’ He asked.

‘David.’ The Governor was surprised he asked. Bethany wandered close to Mycroft, he wanted to reach out and hold her hand, but he was unsure of that was what she wanted.

‘Are you sure about this, David?’

‘Of course, I’m bloody sure.’

‘Nearly there.’ Eurus said, indicating the countdown was nearly at zero.

‘Right, well, do you want to pray or anything?’ John was a good man, giving the Governor all the dignity he could.

‘With Eurus Holmes in the world, who the hell would I pray to?’

‘You are a good man and you are doing a good thing.’ John assured him.

‘So are you.’

‘I’ll spend the rest of my life telling myself that.’ John looked to Bethany who just looked terrified. Mycroft placed his hand on her shoulder, something that made her relax just a little.

John raised the gun and the Governor flinched. Mycroft could barely look, but Bethany was carefully watching it all play out. John hesitated, his finger twitching over the trigger.

‘Please.’ The Governor begged. He turned around so that John wouldn’t have to look at him, it helped for a moment as John readjusted himself, but it still wasn’t enough. John soon placed his hand on his shoulder, indicating for him to kneel. He placed the gun to the back of his head. ‘Oh God.’

‘I know that you are scared, but you should also be very proud.’ John told him and repositioned himself once more.

‘Just do it. Be quick.’ The Governor was sobbing.

‘This is very good Dr Watson,’ Eurus said. ‘I should have fitted you with a cardiograph.’

‘Goodbye David.’ John held the gun with both hands, somehow thinking it would help.

‘Please.’

‘I can’t.’ John moved away. ‘Sorry. I can’t do it.’

‘Fine. It’s alright.’ Sherlock still remained clam.

The tension seemed to release for just a moment, before the Governor did something that none of them expected. He took the gun from John and all four of them stepped forwards to stop him.

‘Stop! No, no, stop.’ John and Bethany both begged him.

The Governor pointed the gun at them, making everyone retreat for a moment. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s alright.’ Sherlock tried to calm him.

‘I’m so sorry.’ He then placed the gun beneath his chin. ‘Remember me.’ He begged and pulled the trigger.

Mycroft had never seen anything like it in his life. Suddenly he felt himself throwing up against the wall. The smell of the gunfire and blood making him dizzy and dry heave until he had nothing left.

‘You alright?’ Sherlock turned to John and Bethany, but they stayed quiet.

‘Interesting.’ Eurus said, observing them.

‘Alright, there you go,’ Sherlock approached the glass talking to her. Mycroft felt Bethany’s hand on his back, he nodded letting her know he was fine. ‘You got what you wanted. He’s dead.’

‘Dead or alive, he really wasn’t very interesting.’ Eurus sneered. ‘But you four, you four, were wonderful. Thank you. You see what you did, Dr Watson, specifically because of your moral code, because you don’t want blood on your hands, two people are dead instead of one.’

‘Not two people.’ John frowned.

‘Yes, sorry, hang on.’ Mycroft turned just in time to see Eurus swivel in her chair and point a gun at the Governor’s wife. The was a gun shot and when she swivelled back around, they could see the Governor’s wife had been shot through the glass.

‘Oh.’ Bethany couldn’t look and turned away from the sight.

‘What advantage did your moral code grant you? Is it not in the end, selfish to keep one’s hands clean at the expense of another’s life?’

‘You didn’t have to kill her!’ John yelled.

‘The condition of her survival was that you, Mycroft or Beth had to kill her husband.’ Eurus chuckled. ‘This is an experiment. There will be rigour. Sherlock, pick up the gun. It’s your turn next and when I tell you to use it, and I will, remember what happened this time.’

‘What if I don’t want a gun?’ Sherlock challenged.

‘Oh, the gun is intended as a mercy.’ Eurus clarified.

‘For whom?’

‘You.’

‘How so?’

‘If someone else had to die, would you really want to do it with your bare hands?’ There was exchange of looks shared between the three of them, Sherlock maintained his gaze. ‘Would waste valuable time.’

‘Probably just take it.’ John said, all of them having a silent conversation between them.

Sherlock nodded, they didn’t have a choice. He bent down and took the gun in his hand. Mycroft could see he was hating this. Sherlock checked the magazine for how many bullets were left.

‘There’s only one bullet left.’

‘You will only need one. But you will need it.’ Eurus assured him. A door to the side of the room opened. ‘Please… go through. There’s a few tasks waiting for you and a girl on a plane who’s getting very, very scared.’

Sherlock went to lead them through before turning back. ‘Treats?’ He questioned Mycroft.

‘Just… you know, a violin.’ Mycroft said, weakly. He didn’t dare look at Bethany, he felt like the worst human being in the world and entirely undeserving of her.

‘In exchange for?’

‘She’s very clever.’

‘I’m beginning to think you’re not.’ Sherlock scowled at him.

The lights went red and Bethany was getting progressively more distressed with it.

‘Come on now, all aboard!’ Moriarty sang.

They followed Sherlock through to the next room, Mycroft keeping an eye on Bethany, he noticed her frizzy hair, once making her look bright, youthful and a little wild, now made her seem incredibly sad and helpless.

‘She must be redecorating.’ Sherlock said entering a room that had been painted red.

‘Is that allowed?’ John asked.

‘She’s literally taken over the asylum, we have more to worry about than her choice of colour scheme.’

Mycroft placed the tips of his fingers against the wall. ‘Barely dry. It’s recent.’ He concluded.

‘That’s for our benefit.’

Eurus appeared on the TV screen again. ‘As a motivator to your continued co-operation, I’m now reconnecting you.’

‘Fasten your seatbelts. It’s gonna be a bumpy night.’ Moriarty sang again.

‘Are you still there?’ The little girl could be heard and Bethany’s head was up once again.

‘Yes. Hello.’ Sherlock said. ‘Hello, can you hear us?’

‘Yes.’

‘Everything’s going to be alright.’ Sherlock tried to be reassuring.

‘It’s changed.’ Bethany said, quietly, only Mycroft hearing her.

‘What has?’ He whispered.

‘The pitch.’ Bethany gestured for Sherlock to keep her talking, closing her eyes and concentrating.

‘I just need you tell me where you are.’ Sherlock continued. ‘Outside, is it day or night?’

‘Night.’

‘That certainly narrows it down to half the planet.’ Mycroft said, sarcastically, earning a glare from Sherlock and Bethany.

‘What kind of a plane are you on?’ Sherlock carried on.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Is it big or small?’ John interrupted, knowing they had very little time and needed the answers quickly.

‘Big.’

‘Lots of people on it?’

‘Lots and lots, but they’re all asleep, I can’t wake them up.’

‘Where did you take off from?’ Sherlock asked.

‘And the driver’s asleep.’

‘No, I understand, but where did you come from? Where did the plane take off?’

‘My nan’s.’

‘And where are you going?’

‘Home.’

‘No. I mean what airport?’

The line cut out. ‘Enough for now!’ Bethany’s eyes flew open and she looked to Eurus. ‘Time to play a new game. Look on the table in front of you. Open the envelope if you want to speak to the girl again. Earn yourself some phone time!’

‘This is inhuman. This is insane.’ Mycroft said.

‘Mycroft, we know.’ Bethany immediately calmed. ‘But there is a very scared little girl who needs our help. You want to help her, don’t you?’

‘Of course.’ He sighed.

‘Good. You hear that Eurus? We all want to help-’

‘Oh you’re clever,’ Eurus interrupted her. ‘Very clever, I can see why Mycroft likes you so much. You’re ten steps ahead of everyone. How did you do it?’

Bethany swallowed. ‘I play piano, cello and saxophone. Pitch and tone come very easy to me.’ That was news to Mycroft, he knew she played piano, but the others he wouldn’t have guessed. He could see it now of course, the evidence was right in front of his face, so why couldn’t he see it before?

‘Interesting. If I’d known how good you were, I would’ve put you in a different cell. I don’t want you to ruin this experiment, but I do want to see your response to keeping a secret.’ Eurus was thinking quickly. ‘If you tell, indicate or make any non-verbal signal eluding to what you know, something very bad will happen to Mycroft.’

Bethany was knocked back a step.

‘Don’t tell. This will be our little secret.’

Bethany swallowed. ‘Fine.’ She breathed.

‘Good.’ Eurus turned her attention back to the task at hand. ‘Six months ago, a man called Evans was murdered. Unsolved, except by me. He was shot from a distance of three hundred metres with this rifle.’ A light turned on above where Sherlock was standing, illuminating a rifle. Sherlock brought it down. ‘Now, if the police had any brains, they’d realise there are three suspects all brothers. Nathan Garrideb, Alex Garrideb and Howard Garrideb. All these photos are up to date, but which one pulled the trigger, Sherlock? Which one?’

‘What’s this?’ John shook his head, confused. ‘We’re supposed to solve this, based on what?’

‘This,’ Sherlock was already assessing the photographs he’d pulled out of the envelop. ‘This is all we get.’

‘Please.’ Eurus said. ‘Make use of your friends, Sherlock. I want to see you interact with people that you’re close to. Also you may have to choose which one to keep.’

‘What do you make of it?’ Sherlock presented the gun to Mycroft first.

‘Am I being asked to prove my usefulness?’ Mycroft said with a hint of disdain.

‘Yes, I should think you are.’

‘I will not be manipulated like this.’ He maintained his defiance.

‘Fine, John.’ Sherlock turned to his closest friend. ‘John!’

John took a moment, cleared his throat and took the rifle. ‘Yeah, I think I’ve seen one of these, it’s a buffalo gun… I’d say 1940s, old fashioned sight. No crosshairs.’

‘Glasses.’ Bethany pointed out.

‘Nathan wears glasses.’ Sherlock nodded. ‘Evans was shot from three hundred metres, kickback from a gun of this calibre, would be massive.’

‘No cuts or scarring.’ Bethany checked the photo.

‘Not Nathan then, who’s next?’ Sherlock moved onto the second photo.

‘Well done, Dr Watson, how useful you are.’ Mycroft said, sarcastically. He’d had more than enough of this stupid game. ‘Do you have a suspicion we’re being made to compete?’

‘No, we’re not competing, there’s a plane in the air that’s going to crash.’ John squared up to him. ‘So, what we’re doing is actually trying to save a little girl.’ Mycroft watched Bethany stilled for a moment, whatever secret Eurus was making her keep was making her tense. ‘Today we have to be soldiers, Mycroft. Soldiers. And that means to hell with what happens to us.’

Mycroft raised his eyebrows briefly. ‘Your priorities do you credit.’

‘No, my priorities just got a woman killed.’ John snapped.

‘Mycroft.’ Bethany turned, she spoke gently. ‘Stop. John’s right. We need to focus and we could do with your help, otherwise just stay quiet.’ Mycroft hated her expression, it was one of disappointment and it was entirely aimed at him.

‘Now as I understand it Sherlock, you try to repress your emotions to refine your reasoning, I’d like to see how that works. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to apply some context to your deductions.’ Eurus kept her gaze steady and it was unnerving.

Suddenly the three suspects appeared at the window, bound, gagged and with signs hung around their necks with their names on.

‘Oh dear God.’ Mycroft looked out of the window at the three dangling men, horrified.

‘Two of the Garridebs work here as orderlies, so getting the third along really wasn’t too difficult.’ Eurus explained, not that anyone was that concerned with how they got there. ‘Once you bring in your verdict, let me know and justice will be done.’

‘Justice.’ Sherlock repeated.

‘What will you do with them?’ John asked, approaching the window.

‘Early, release.’

‘You’ll drop them into the sea.’ Sherlock concluded and went back to the photos.

‘Sink or swim.’

‘They’re tied up!’ John exclaimed.

‘Exactly!’ Eurus cheered. ‘Now there is context. Please continue with your deductions. I’m now focussing on the difference to your mental capacity a specified consequence can make.’

‘Why should we bother?’ Mycroft turned back to Eurus. ‘What is we’re disinclined to play your games, little sister?’

‘I have,’ Eurus chuckled. ��If you remember, provided you with some motivation.’ Eurus disappeared and the little girl could be heard again.

‘We’re getting through the clouds, like cotton wool.’ She said. Mycroft placed his hands on the back of his head, somehow feeling like it would help reduce the stress.

‘Oh, that’s nice.’ Sherlock lifted his head, the stress getting to him as well. ‘Try to tell me more about the plane.’

‘Why won’t my mummy wake up?’ She cried.

The static cut out the call again and they were back to square one. Again.

‘So, it’s got to be one of the other two.’ Sherlock flitted between the little girl on the plane and the three men hanging outside the window. ‘Now Howard…’ he strode up to the window. ‘Howard’s a lifelong drunk. Pallor of his skin, terrible gin blossoms on his red nose. And terror not withstanding a bad case of the DTs. There’s no way he could have taken the shot from that shot from three hundred metres away. So, that leaves us with Alex… indentations on the temples suggests he habitually wears glasses. Frown line suggests a lifetime of peering-‘

‘He’s short sighted, or he was.’ Mycroft stepped in to help finish off the deductions. ‘His recent laser surgery has done the trick.’

‘Laser surgery?’

‘Look at his clothes, he’s made an effort.’

‘That’s very good.’ John whispered more to himself.

‘Excellent,’ Sherlock agreed. ‘Suddenly he sees himself in a quite a different light, now that he’s dumped the specs. Even has a spray tan, but he’s clearly not used to his new personal grooming ritual. That could be told by the state of his fingernails and the fact that there’s hair growing in his ears. So it’s a superficial job then… but he got his eyes fixed, his hands were steady, he pulled the trigger, he killed Evans.’ Sherlock was certain, he turned to tell Eurus who was still observing the four of them with great interest.

‘Are you ready to condemn the prisoner?’ She asked with a smile.

‘Sherlock, we can’t do this.’ Mycroft pleaded quietly.

‘Plane, remember?’ Sherlock snapped.

‘Sherlock, are you ready?’ Eurus got his attention back.

‘Alex.’

‘Say it. Condemn him. Condemn him in the knowledge of what will happen to the man you name.’

Sherlock took a moment to be certain. ‘I condemn Alex Garrideb.’

Suddenly it was Nathan and Howard who dropped into the ocean, leaving Alex still hanging there. Bethany tried to turn away, she’d seen enough death for one day.

‘Mind the gap.’ Moriarty’s voice sounded.

‘Congratulations,’ Eurus smiled again. ‘You got the right one. Now, go through the door.’ She said and another door on the opposite side to where they came in opened. Sherlock put his hand gently on Bethany’s back and asked her quietly if she was alright, she took a deep breath and nodded.

‘You dropped the other two, why?’ John strode up to the screen.

‘Interesting.’

‘Why?’ John demanded, panting as he did.

‘Does it really make a difference killing the innocent instead of the guilty?’ She seemed to contemplate the question for a second. ‘Let’s see.’

Sherlock was guiding Bethany through to the other room, shielding her from what was about to happen. Mycroft watched at Alex was then dropped into the sea as well.

‘The train has left the station.’ Moriarty sang once again.

‘No.’ Eurus answered her own question. ‘That felt pretty much the same.’

‘John, don’t let her distract you.’ Sherlock approached his friend, but Mycroft just wanted to follow after Bethany.

They entered into the next room where an empty coffin sat in the middle of it. Mycroft quickly scanned the room, whatever he’d done previously, he wanted to make up for it for Bethany, to make her think he was still good.

‘One more minute on the phone.’ Eurus said and Mycroft immediately went to Bethany who was trying not to cry.

‘Are you alright?’ He asked, quietly.

‘Of course not.’ She shook her head. ‘But what choice have we got?’ It broke his heart when she automatically went for a smile, just to settle him, just to make him feel a bit better. She was far too kind and it was killing him.

‘Frightened, I’m really frightened.’ The little girl was crying again.

‘It’s okay, don’t worry. I don’t have very long with you.’ Sherlock shut his eyes tight, the stress was starting to interfere with his focus. ‘So, I just need you to tell me what you can see outside the plane.’

‘Tell me what to do.’ Mycroft begged Bethany, she looked at him with surprise and fear in her eyes, but swallowed nervously while she thought.

‘You do what you can, Mycroft. What needs to be done. It’s the only way we’re getting out.’ It was vague, but it was all she could think of saying. Mycroft nodded and promised himself to do better for her.

‘Just the sea. I can see the sea.’ The little girl said and Mycroft decided to focus his efforts on the little girl.

‘Are there any ships?’ Sherlock asked.

‘No ships. I can see lights in the distance.’

‘Is it a city?’

‘I think so.’

‘She’s about to fly over a city in a pilotless plane.’ Mycroft said, quietly, making everyone aware of how grave the situation was. ‘We’ll have to talk her through it.’

‘Through what?’ John asked, frowning.

‘Hello, are you still there?’ The little girl panicked.

‘Still here, just give us a minute.’ Sherlock called back.

‘Getting the plane away from the mainland, any populated areas.’ Mycroft finished explaining. ‘It has to crash in the sea.’

‘What about the girl?’

‘Well, obviously, Dr Watson, she’s the one who’s going to crash it.’ Mycroft thought that was fairly obvious.

‘No.’ John shook his head. ‘We can help her land it.’ Mycroft was only partially aware of Sherlock looking to Bethany who was still keeping her secret.

‘And if we fail, and she crashes into a city? How many will die then?’

‘How are we going to get her to do that?’

‘I’m afraid we’re going to have to give her hope.’ Mycroft hated hope, it was a false promise, never to be made good upon, the biggest lie out there.

‘Is there really no one there who can help you?’ Sherlock asked the little girl, realising that if this was their only option, they needed an alternative. ‘Have you really, really checked?’

‘Everyone’s asleep.’ She cried. ‘Won’t you help me?’

‘We’re going to do everything that we can.’ Sherlock promised.

‘I’m scared. I’m really scared.’

‘It’s alright-‘ the line went dead again.

‘Now,’ Eurus was back. ‘Back to the matter in hand. Coffin. Problem is someone is about to die. It will be, as I understand it, a tragedy. So many days not lived. So many words unsaid. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.’

‘Yes, yes, yes,’ Sherlock stopped the repetition. ‘And this, I presume will be their coffin.’

‘Who’s coffin, Sherlock? Please, start your deductions. I will apply some context in a moment.’

Sherlock took a deep breath and exhaled harshly. ‘Well, allowing for the entirely pointless courtesy of headroom, I’d say this coffin is intended for someone of about 5’4”. Makes it more likely to be a woman.’ Mycroft glanced to Bethany who was just a little over 5’4” and felt an instant relief that it wasn’t her.

‘Not a child?’ John asked.

‘A child’s coffin would be more expensive,’ Sherlock shook his head, moving around the coffin to get a proper look at it. ‘This is in the lower price range although still best available in that bracket.’

‘That was a lonely night on google.’ John said, under his breath.

‘This is a practical and informed choice; balance of probability suggests this is for an unmarried woman distant from her relatives.’

Mycroft spotted the lid of the coffin leaning against a wall and wandered over to it.

‘That much is suggested by the economy of choice. Acquainted by the process of death, but unsentimental about the necessity of disposal.’ While Sherlock continued talking, Mycroft picked up the lid and saw it had only three words on it “I love you”. His heart sank for a moment. ‘Also, the lining of the coffin-‘

‘Yes, yes, very good Sherlock,’ Mycroft had had enough of his rambling. ‘Or we could just look at the name on the lid.’ He turned the lid around. ‘Only it isn’t a name.’

‘Oh,’ John nodded. ‘It’s for somebody who loves somebody.’

‘It’s for somebody who loves Sherlock.’ Mycroft corrected him. ‘This is all about you. Everything here. So, who loves you? I’m assuming it’s not a long list.’

‘Irene Adler.’ John suggested.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, look at the coffin.’ Sherlock snapped.

‘Unmarried, practical about death. Alone.’ Bethany repeated, her eyes shutting as she realised who it was.

‘Molly.’ John said.

‘Molly Hooper.’ Sherlock confirmed.

‘She’s perfectly safe, for the moment.’ Eurus interrupted. ‘Her flat is rigged to explode in approximately three minutes, unless I hear the release code form her lips. I’m calling her on your phone, Sherlock. Make her say it.’

‘Say what?’ John was still missing the point.

‘Obvious sherly.’

‘No.’

‘Yes.’ Sherlock turned towards the lid of the coffin and even Mycroft felt for him. The damage it does to a person to say things like that when the timing wasn’t right.

‘Oh, one important restriction.’ Eurus cut in once again. ‘You’re not allowed to mention in any way that her life is in danger. You may not at any point, suggest there is any form of crisis. If you do, I will end this session and her life. Are we clear?’

Sherlock nodded, they started dialling and the countdown began. The phone began ringing and they watch Molly ignore it.

‘What’s she doing?’ Sherlock panicked.

‘She’s making tea.’ Mycroft said, obviously.

‘Yes, but why isn’t she answering her phone?’

‘You never answer your phone.’ John countered.

‘Yes, but it’s me calling.’

They continued to watch Molly ignoring the call. Bethany’s breathing quickened again.

‘Hi this is Molly, at the dead centre of town… leave a message.’ It was her answering machine.

‘Okay, okay,’ Eurus resigned that if she didn’t answer, it wasn’t fair. ‘Just one more time.’

The phone began dialling again. Mycroft watched Bethany shift from one side to the other, begging Molly to pick up.

‘Come on Molly, pick up, just bloody pick up.’ She whispered.

‘Hello Sherlock,’ Molly finally picked up the phone. ‘Is this urgent, because I’m not having a good day.’

‘Molly, I just want you to do something very easy for me and not ask why.’ Sherlock spoke as calmly as he could, remembering Eurus’s rules.

‘Oh God, is this one of your stupid games?’ Molly sounded extremely upset.

‘No, it’s not a game,’ Sherlock tried to convince her. ‘I need you to help me.’

‘But I’m not at the lab.’

‘It’s not about that.’ Sherlock dismissed, glancing at the timer.

‘Well, quickly then.’ She put the lid on a jar, getting impatient. ‘Sherlock… what is it? What do you want?’

Sherlock took a breath. ‘Molly, please, without asking why, just say these words.’

‘What words?’

‘I love you.’

Molly was clearly taken back, and extremely hurt. Bethany shook her head, that clearly wasn’t the way to go about it.

‘Leave me alone.’

‘Molly no-‘ Sherlock stopped her hanging up the phone. ‘Please, no, don’t hang up. Do not hang up.’

‘Calmly Sherlock,’ Eurus reminded him. ‘Or I will finish her right now.’

Sherlock refocused. Mycroft had never seen him like this before.

‘Why are you doing this to me?’ Molly demanded. ‘Why are you making fun of me?’

‘Please, I swear, you just have to listen to me.’

‘Softer, Sherlock.’ Eurus added.

‘Molly, this is for a case. It’s a sort of experiment.’

‘I’m not an experiment, Sherlock.’ Molly growled. Mycroft had never heard Miss Hooper like that before.

‘No, I know you’re not an experiment,’ Sherlock quickly tried to rectify his words. ‘You’re my friend. We’re friends, but please… just say those words for me.’

‘Please don’t do this,’ she begged and Bethany could barely stand it, the way her friend was hurting was killing her. Sherlock needed to do better. ‘Just… just don’t do it.’

‘It’s very important. I can’t say why. But I promise you it is.’

‘I can’t say that.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t… I can’t say that to you.’

‘Of course, you can. Why can’t you?’

‘You know why.’

‘No, I don’t know why.’ Mycroft didn’t believe Sherlock when he said that.

‘Of course, you do.’ She was trying to stop herself crying. Moriarty’s image appeared ticking like a clock.

‘Please just say it.’ Sherlock begged once more.

‘I can’t. Not to you.’

‘Why?’

‘Because…’ Molly began failing in her attempt to hold back her crying. ‘Because it’s true… Because it’s true, Sherlock. It’s always been true.’

Bethany was roughly wiping away her tears, trying to stay quiet. Mycroft stepped towards her, running his hand down her arm and gently taking her hand, he had a very bad feeling that Sherlock was going to fail and Bethany would need someone to hold her. That was his priority now, nothing else mattered.

‘Well, if it’s true, just say it anyway.’ Sherlock was strained.

‘You bastard.’

‘Say it anyway.’ The clock was getting dangerously low.

‘You say it. Go on. You say it first.’ Molly challenged him, not wanting to take anymore of Sherlock’s crap, admirable, but it was about to get her killed.

‘What?’

‘Say it. Say it like you mean it.’

Sherlock looked to Eurus for some kind of guidance, anywhere he could get it, he’d take it.

‘Final thirty seconds.’

Sherlock shook his head, trying to focus. ‘I… I love you.’ He said, unconvinced by himself. ‘I love you.’ He tried again. Molly was silent. ‘Molly.’ They headed into the last fifteen seconds. ‘Molly please.’ Sherlock begged.

‘I love you.’ It was a low whisper but it was there, she said it and the timer stopped with two seconds to go.

Mycroft stepped forward for a moment, releasing Bethany’s hand as she paced, getting her breath back. ‘Sherlock however hard that was-‘

‘Eurus, I won, I won.’ Sherlock raised his voice, but the quake was unmistakeable. ‘Come on, play fair, the girl on the plane. I need to talk to her… I won, I saved Molly Hooper.’

Eurus just laughed. ‘Saved her? From what? Oh, do be sensible there were no explosives in her little house. Why would I be so clumsy? You didn’t win. You lost.’ Mycroft took a moment to himself, if he had been in that position, would he have done the same? Hindsight is twenty-twenty they say. ‘Look what you did to her. Look what you did to yourself. All those complicated little emotions. I lost count. Emotional context Sherlock, it destroys you every time. No, please pull yourself together. I need you at peak efficiency. The next one’s not going to be so easy.’ Mycroft watched the next door open. ‘In your own time.’

Sherlock wandered over to the lid of the coffin, picking it up and placing it on top of the base. Mycroft watched with Bethany from the door to the next room. Suddenly without any warning at all, Sherlock threw his fists and thrashed his arms straight through the wood, over and over again. He didn’t stop until the coffin was entirely destroyed. He screamed and cried and all the frustration and fury he’d had over what Eurus had made him do, came out in every movement he made.

Eurus was destroying him.

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[depressed-bubbles]

Martin Luther had his 95 Theses/Grievances against the Roman Catholic Church, but today I come to you with my Top 3 Grievances against Sherlock bbc.

1. what the hell is this time line? i’m not even sure then is any canon time line for the entire series, let alone each episode. the only exact time we are given is of Sherlock’s “death” being two years long. and some people will say that the measurement of time doesn’t *really* matter, soooo who cares! I DO!!!! it matters so much, i can’t even iterate my reasonings except scream in a bucket. there’s so many concepts including Mary life before and after John, just Johns entire life before meeting Sherlock (by basic calculations he should be sooooo gosh damn old to work as a doctor as he does), Moriarty and everything he does outside of and pertaining to Sherlock, Eurus (her crimes, her time in Sherrinford, her time with Moriarty), just—- so many plots and aspects of this show make little to no logical sense because of how off and awkward the series chronically works, or doesn’t work.

2. John. his life. and by life i mean love life. i will admit i’ve never understood the concept of just meeting someone and suddenly dating them, maybe it’s the greyromantic thing, but hey…. this isn’t about me. but what the fuck? when does this guy have the time? he basically had three jobs: mystery man, doctor man, and sherlock babysitter man. when is this guy going out and meeting these girls? and why is he doing this? he knows he’s in no place to be #dating anyone, mentally or physically. the only person he hangs out with is the *cough* love of his life *cough* i mean unsocial flatmate, whom i heavily doubt would allow his John to get taken with anyone else. but overall, in the entirety of this show, John and dating don’t have a purpose except to show that John cares about Sherlock more than anyone he claims to care about more. to show his true hufflepuff— wrong fandom —his true loyalty and undying yearning to follow Sherlock into the deepest darks. except Mary, that has a plot, a good one? ehhhhhhhhhh but there’s q reason for the relationship, not just “here we go, another reason Johns not a H O M O S E X U A L

3. the ‘end’ of the season. personally i liked that episode. is it really weird and create a few plot problems and unrealistic scenarios based on what we know of our characters? yes, yes it does. but at the same time i don’t care and the only thing i truly hate is how annoying the Moriarty recordings were. they broke my ears. but this being the end of a series that i love so much and truly cherish, just breaks my heart because it’s so SHITTY! not a shitty episode, but a shitty one to end a series on. but yeah sure, they say they’ll do another season…………. i can’t believe that. at all. so, until i open Netflix and see a new season of Sherlock there I will be calling “The Final Problem” the series finale of Sherlock.

even though it sucks as one.

[aveline-amelia]

I actually somewhat agree with that comment and I will try to explain why. To me, it has nothing to do with shipping or that hugging would be seen as shippy or sexual. It's not sexual, but it's vulnerable and emotional, two things not exactly societally acceptable with two men as with two women or a man and a woman.

That in my mind comes off as "too gay". Male intimacy = gay. To me it's not literally two brothers hugging = gay incest. If hugging a man you are not related to intimately is seen as 'gay' (derogatory used) by society, then hugging a man you are related to is 'gay incest' using the same logic. And if it needs to be stated, no, hugging another man as a man is not gay, not even if the men hugging are both gay men. Dating men is gay. (or bi). It's male vulnerable = gayness, rooted in homophobia. Not saying that's what anyone consciously believes in, but it's ingrained.

I know you tried to put shipping aside, but I mean, Johnlock is the most popular ship in the show and they still had them hug in a very intimate way. And it was seen as a shipper moment. In a season that was disappointing to all people invested in a Holmes & Watson dynamic, not just Johnlock shippers. And a lot of people claimed it was a "romantic hug", not a "platonic hug". So presumably they would claim the same thing if the men in question are brothers.

Under that Johnlock hug post, someone straight up said "I don't hug my brother like that." (this was in reference to a news reporter calling it a bro hug)

I disliked that comment because I don't want someone reading that who does hug their family members to think that doing that is weird. It's my biggest problem with the whole "they're not just friends/friends don't look at each other like that/you don't grieve a friend like that/you don't do that all for a friend" argument.

It throws all of the people who show their platonic relationships the same intimacy under the bus by implying it is seen as inherently romantic or sexual.

But using that logic, Sherlock hugging Eurus is also weird. The two of them interlocking hands would also be weird. Which to some people it was. This was messing with my mind for a while, because why would one be okay but the other not?

To me, it's a gender thing. It's about a lack of intimacy. Intimacy between men, any two men, is seen as "too gay". A brother hugging a sister is less weird than a brother hugging a brother because male and female intimacy is more "normal". I don't know if I am actually making sense here.

We are more accustomed to seeing a man hugging a broken down/vulnerable crying woman than two men in a similar situation. It's not just two brothers hugging, but hugging in that exact way, I bet it would been seen as weird just as was weird to people for the Winchester brothers in SPN to hold hands or touch foreheads. It was seen as shippers' fan service. (I was not among those people. it never had any of those kind of undertones to me)

Imo, they still should have given us a hug. Nobody is entitled to anything, but it would have made the episode so much better. I mean they had them hug in the flashback in the beginning and you see Mycroft smile. It would have cost them nothing to just show them hug after Mycroft is released.

No one would be against it! A lot of people wanted a moment like that, even some Johnlockers were more invested in the Holmes brothers' relationship and said they were even more repressed than Sherlock and John when it comes to showing they care about each other.

Sherlock is physically affectionate with the women in his life (Mrs H, Molly, Mary) and in the last episode, with John. So to me, it is a double standard to not extend to the men. And like I said if Mycroft is not the hugging type, why that scene and that reaction. Is it only acceptable when you are a little kid and gets awkward when you are an adult? That's what's bugging me.

And I think we are meant to see Sherlock hugging Eurus as compassion and a sign he is becoming a better man, not him being pragmatic to get her to release John.

And it's not bad in itself Sherlock said Mycroft did his best, it's that he put more effort with Eurus after everything she did while Mycroft only gets that one line.

I think not showing Mycroft in Baker Street is fine, as he was never linked to that place, Baker Street is more of a Holmes & Watson thing. I think that moment where Mummy holds Mycroft's hand while they watch the violin-off is meant to show a family healing and that they are all a family now, Eurus included. So Baker Street was one part of the montage with everyone visiting and the Holmes family reunion was another, that's probably why Mycroft wasn't there in the Baker Street scenes.

This post (mine) is all over the place and I feel like I directly contradicted myself, so I hope I didn't sound completely incomprehensible.

Hey Sherlock!

killed your best friend at age 5

traumatized you deeply

tried to kill you, burning down your family’s home

conspired with Moriarty to drive you into suicide, involving the possible deaths of some of your friends

killed at least about 10 people

blew up your flat, endangering everyone around

made you endure some pretty f*ck*ng games

made you break Molly’s heart

wanted to force you into killing either your brother or your best friend

nearly let your best friend drown

And you 

hug her

visit her frequently

play the violin for her in an attempt to reach out to her

tried to get you off and to stay away from drugs

saved you and your friends several times

had to cope with you spoiling secret service business

manipulated evidence to clear you of charges

abused his possibilities as an agent of the state to keep you and your friends from harm

was willing to offer up his life to keep you from harm, physically and mentally

And you

say “he did his best”

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 THE FINAL DAY

The Final Problem/Carry On/The Giggle

“The Final Problem”

Plot Description: A dark secret in the Holmes family rears its head with a vengeance, putting Sherlock and friends through a series of sick, manipulative psychological and potentially fatal games.

Here we are, the Sherlock episode SO BAD:

1) the fandom collectively decided there was a secret fourth episode that would fix it all, and

2) I’ve blocked most of it out of my memory in the past seven or so years

My apologies to Megumi who is being subjected to this at such a young age

For someone who hates socializing and in fact just people in general, Mycroft is having such a good time mouthing the dialogue of this movie……

Is this SENTIMENT, Mycroft?? Before it all goes to hell REALLY fast

Isn’t part of this a trick by Sherlock??

No because really, if you watched the first episode of this show and then this one you’d be so confused how we fucking got here. This used to be a fun if queerbaiting detective show!!

Did you really need to psychologically torture Mycroft to get this information??

Why would John know that about Mycroft more than Sherlock?

I seriously don’t understand why everyone hates Mycroft this season. He’s never been the warmest or most forthcoming person, so why are we all of a sudden bullying him for it?

One thing I do remember is that the Holmeses didn’t have a dog, and the dog we’re seeing in these flashbacks will eventually be revealed to be a neighborhood kid…and Sherlock is about to figure that out

They put her away for just a tinge of arson?? (And the murder, too, I suppose, and clearly wanting to kill her brother?? (Why is she Dabi?))

In another Eurus is Dabi, she started another fire that she “did not survive.”

What a convenient time for that drone with a grenade to show up at 221b

This would not have happened in 2010 Sherlock, but the degradation of this show is just………it’s sad, really

Rolling my eyes at “Sherlock Holmes the pirate”…pirates are so much cooler than you, dude

$20 says the guy in the…boat…person…outfit (shut up) is Sherlock. Well…you didn’t bet so I don’t have to give you anything. It was one of the Holmes boys

If this wasn’t the show it started as, this kind of plot could be good in a Dan Brown, easily digestible, psychological thriller kind of way. UNFORTUNATELY, it had promise in the beginning……….I don’t mean to make that sound like I’m shitting on Dan Brown. I can’t deny that I read Angels & Demons quicker than I had ever thought I would

It sucks that John will automatically respond to Vatican Cameos but Sherlock does not trust John the same way

I forgot they were watching a tape and not a live feed…on one hand, it’s good that John figured it out (a little too late but earlier than Mycroft) that they couldn’t trust this man who is in charge of this equivalent to [island prison from fandom redacted] but they probably should have been watching Sherlock too

Am I happy to SEE Jim? Yes. But I’ve always fucking HATED this defanging he got

Behold, the only good moment of this whole episode

I don’t want to actually READ Jim’s story of the nativity titled The Hungry Donkey, but I’d read the Wikipedia article synopsis

Isn’t the whole girl on a plane that’s going to crash fake?

Mycroft has never been so human and emotional, I hate it. Pull yourself together, man

She TOLD you she’d shoot that dude’s wife if Mycroft or John didn’t shoot him, and you didn’t believe her??

Turns out, what’s good for children’s hospitals is good for high security prisons. C’mon, lads, it’s BASIC COLOR THEORY

Get your ass to the table, Mycroft. HELP.

I forgot that she coerces Sherlock to manipulate Molly into telling him she loves him in three minutes or she’ll kill Molly. I was about to say “that’s just cruel,” but it’s no less cruel than the rest of the murders she’s done today, we just have more context and attachment to Molly

Mycroft, you do not get to sneer at Sherlock’s hesitation to kill John when you couldn’t even kill the governor of this prison to save his wife, and then you dry heaved in the corner (what was moftiss thinking with this writing??)

Oh……….oh, he’s TRYING to make Sherlock hate him enough to kill him instead of John, to make it easier for Sherlock. I’m sorry I said that about you, Mycroft……..but Sherlock did see through it

I can’t imagine trying to get this little girl to safely crash this plane (or save it) and keep John from drowning at the same time. I’d shut down

Remember when the fandom thought Tom Huddleston would come in and play Victor Trevor? And I think he was supposed to be the secret Holmes, too….

I THOUGHT I remembered Eurus being the girl on the plane this whole time, but like I said, I blocked a LOT of this out

John’s safe, Sherlock’s better than a great man, he’s a good one…and now Mycroft is being told off by their parents

WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHERLOCK WAS ALWAYS THE GROWNUP?? One, Mycroft was always more stable if also colder, but two, and more importantly, YOU ARE HIS MOTHER AND YOU’RE SAYING THIS??

So Sherlock gets to go play violin with/at her secretly whenever, but their parents never get to see their daughter ever again??

Guess I was wrong, they’re putting on a little concert in her extremely high security cell for their parents and Mycroft, I GUESS

This montage of cases and how we could have had those instead of whatever the hell this was that we got

“Carry On”

Plot Description: in the series finale, Sam and Dean investigate one last case, then confront where their respective roads are going to take them next

I’m calling absolute bullshit on that description as someone who HAS watched the series finale before

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: No one died. It was just the boys doing very ordinary things

One thing I didn’t remember was THEY KEPT THE DOG?? The dog that was potentially only alone because Chuck got rid of EVERYONE??

I want to be like “you were told it was hot” but Dean yelling “Hot bread!” when the toast (it’s called TOAST, Dean) popped out of the toaster is very special to me

AKRON?? I forgot that Dean dies in Ohio and like a 45 minute drive from me…

This is why we don’t answer the door if we’re not expecting someone…you could get stabbed in front of your kids

Ok, potentially he dies a little further from me, in Canton…but still Ohio

Omg I hate this. I know he’s gonna die for real in the DUMBEST WAY POSSIBLE

They’re mentally preparing like they’ve never fought four vampires before. Like they haven’t fought gods, like they haven’t fought GOD. It’s just a nest of vampires

Was she from season ONE? Sam’s hair from the flashback makes me think yes….aaaaand it doesn’t matter

Oh god. There it issssss. The rudest rusty nail in all existence

What the fuck made me think I could go through this again?? I can’t watch Dean die for good!!!!!!!! What I would give to have Cas here right now to heal him

The FIRST AID KIT, SAM??

IT DID NOT HAVE TO END LIKE THIS!!! I will tell future generations that season 15 only has 19 episodes.

He sounds like an OLD dying man, but he’s like just over 40

Y’all are not beating the allegations that homophobic little kid at the motel who asked “king or two queens” put on ya in this moment. Just sayin. That was also, like, season one or two.

I’m just MAD that that’s how Dean went out now…

That’s such a big bunker for one person, Sam

Literally, they could have stopped at 19 episodes. No one wants to watch Sam be depressed all over the bunker

It’s so wild to me how many times they kept bringing Bobby back. And at least now it’s originally recipe Bobby talking to Dean.

Aww Jack made necessary changes to heaven, and Cas is here SOMEWHERE but JUST DOESN’T SHOW UP IN THE EPISODE FOR WHATEVER REASON

Having now seen the penultimate episode, it’s incredibly frustrating that Dean’s first action in Heaven after sharing a beer with Bobby is to go for a drive…like that wasn’t the last thing the boys did at the end of that episode. None of this was necessary

I wonder if Baby is a little cursed like Good Omens Crowley’s Bentley, but instead of playing Queen all the time it’s JUST “Carry On, Wayward Son” by Kansas…because that’s what started playing as Dean started up Baby

I am glad Sam gets to give his kid (who he named Dean) the childhood he always wanted but never had

Now Sam’s wearing glasses to show that time has passed

Ah yes, the horrible party city wig. They didn’t even really age his face. They just slapped the wig and glasses on and said “good enough! This network has never been profitable and it’s going to be even less so after this episode airs and supernatural is over”

They really want it to be a meaningful moment that Sam’s last words to his brother were “it’s okay. You can go now” and his son’s last words to him were the same, but all it’s doing is making me mad again over how Dean died

I know time works differently in Heaven or whatever but was Dean driving for the rest of Sam’s whole LIFE???

I think it’s KIND OF FUNNY that they End of Titanic Sam. Dean looks like he’s the age he died at but Heaven de-aged Sam. I’m not nor will I ever be a Wincest shipper but the parallels ARE THERE. This episode really did THAT

I’m really much more upset than I ever thought I would be about this show ending (she says about a show she can just go back and watch whenever she wants)

“The Giggle”

Plot Description: the Doctor is powerless as the terrifying Toymaker holds the human race in his grasp

(Y’all…I’m getting a little choked up thinking about how this will be over in roughly an hour, maybe an hour and a half…maybe it’ll stretch to two hours depending on how sad I get)

I won’t lie, it’s really weird seeing Neil Patrick Harris in Doctor Who and in 2023

Well, that burning doll being the first image to ever be televised is not horrifying at all

UNIT really needs better ways of getting the Doctor’s attention

I’m…assuming another old companion. I like that we are actually continuing the former companions coming back trend

Oh lord, the amount of paranoia caused by…whatever this is. Honestly, it makes everyone the worst Karen you’ve ever seen. Kate saw two redheads in one room and thought there was a conspiracy going on there amongst other, more horrible things

I’m sorry. WHAT. The image and laugh of the first picture ever televised is somehow buried deep in EVERY tv screen (and possibly just every screen) EVER?? No

Not even Eurus got Moriarty on THIS MANY screens, but it’s giving “miss me?”

YES, Donna!!! Bargain for what your knowledge is worth to UNIT!!!! You went from a 60k offer to 120k and five weeks vacation! You deserve it

I know they WILL but I want the moments NOW of the Doctor finally being vulnerable emotionally about all of it to Donna

Ok but if…is the Toymaker like…another Time Lord?? No, just from another realm (that was the word used…does it mean plane of existence? Universe? Will we ever know?)…and by playing into superstition at the edge of OUR universe, the Doctor let him in, I GUESS

They better not kill Donna. Not after all this.

Noooooooooooo, I’m getting Doomsday ptsd flashbacks. We’re dealing with other planes of existence and now the Doctor and their companion have been tragically separated and are pounding at their respective sides of this door. They can’t even hear each other

The TV guy’s assistant has been turned into a puppet???

No. Wtf wtf wtf. I’m not normally scared of dolls but this is something else. Donna bashing that doll against the wall was exactly the way to go with that, though

You know….watching everything that’s happened to the Doctor since he last left Donna in highly abridged puppet show form….the fates of all their companions (save for 13’s) HAVE been rather terrible.

Wait…so…wait…the Master is in the Toymaker’s tooth???? Also, the Toymaker has TOO MANY TEETH

THAT IS NOT A NORMAL NUMBER OF TEETH

That NONE OF THEM recognized Spice Up Your Life by the Spice Girls is CRIMINAL

The fact that he can render UNIT completely useless

He’s really giving NPH the same kind of speech he gave both John Simm AND Michael Sheen??? Come with me to the stars! We can travel together forever!

I was not expecting him to shoot David with a laser

This is a departure from form, if they do it now. There are 22 min left and we’re getting the regeneration now?? Orrrrrrrrrr not. Far be it for me to criticize or act like an expert, but why are we getting two of them?? Sure?? Bigeneration is now a thing. Is he wearing pants?? Or did they just give him the shirt and tie??

The fate of the Doctor and probably all of humanity is coming down to a game of catch???

Bind it in salt? Is it a ghost?? Is this supernatural???

Who just picked up the tooth though?? The one that, for some reason, contains the Master

So, is the David Tennant Doctor going to stay with Donna’s family or is he gonna go away at some point??

I’m the past couple seasons we’ve gotten so many TARDISes, and this one that Ncuti Gatwa made is even wheelchair accessible!!

Ohhhh!! David Doctor IS going to live with Donna and her family it seems or at least he’ll always have a place with her.

HE CALLED ROSE NOBLE HIS NIECE!!!!! This is his FAMILYYYYY

[leliest]

I have ideas but no writing skills

You've read it. I just more or less accidentally created an o/c which I'd love to write stories about but don't have the guts or skills to do it. And as our fandom includes quite a few talented writers (a "few") I assumed someone else might be short of ideas and like what I've come up with.

How about we make the Holmesian family issues even more confusing by adding a younger cousin to the mix? A witty and deadly sarcastic girl gifted with at least parts of the brains Sherlock's bunch possesses. Though not just as smart as them she's certainly better in the emotional department. Her last name is "Holm" because her parents moved to Germany when she was younger and since the locals kept pronouncing their name incorrectly they eventually changed it to something more German-friendly. Her first name could be something like Ida, or maybe anything equally unusual as Mycroft. With her in the picture, we also have all four of the Anemoi (greek gods) Eurus refers to. She just shows up one day and is instantly annoyed by all the shit going on between Sherlock, John and basically everyone. Did I mention her hero complex? She feels very obligated to fix every issue regarding her cousins. Ida is also convinced that Sherlock and John should've started dating years ago, so she struggles to accept Mary's (luckily rather short) existence. Though she really likes her as a person, just not as John's wife. Certainly a mirror of most Johnlock-shippers. And, like every proper Holmes, she has a knack for the dramatic. Maybe she turns up shortly after Sherlock's death and tries to drop John hints, or she decides to put matters into her own hands and help Sherlock with his return.

Here I'd imagine her with Mycroft and Sherlock in one of the first scenes in Many Happy Returns, the one right before Sherlock crashes John's proposal. I'd like to think she's cheeky enough to convince him not to just run in there and ruin the evening from a safe distance instead. She'd set up the whole thing to somehow destroy John's relationship with Mary, because, as she tells herself, it's not love but the desperate need for normalcy for both of them. And because she's been watching (over) John for the past two years as Sherlock wanted her to she also knows about Mary's past. So she'd have somehow gathered files on all that assassin business and now plans to "present" them to John - on the evening of his proposal. I can certainly see her dressing up as a waiter to spill wine or something on Mary, or even drop the plates, or pull off the tablecloth just to make Morstan leave the table (without John). Maybe she's previously put the assassin files under the menu so she can "get John another" of the soaked menus, which would then, of course, lead to John seeing the files on Mary. In short, Ida would do her very best to ruin the evening and destroy John's trust in Mary. I think she'd even go as far as to talk to a resigned John outside the restaurant afterwards, pretending to be some stranger. Maybe that scene would go something like this:

"Had a rough night?" A slender woman approached the man, curiously eyeing the dark figure on the bench. He just sighed and stared at the bottle of expensive wine in his hands. He had left money for it on the table; if it was enough he didn't know. "Care to talk about it?" He scoffed, still not looking up, "Not really, no." "Talking helps, you know?" He knew. His therapist had told him a million times, she'd talked about how he needed to open up to someone if he wanted to let go, but he didn't want to. Still, right now he felt the sudden urge to talk. Just talk about every little mistake in his life, talk to this random person for no reason at all. He glanced at her shoes, and black leather boots, and decided that a little conversation couldn't hurt. He sighed again and slowly started to talk, every word fighting its way over his lips until it all just came spilling out. "Basically, I lost my best friend to suicide three years ago, fell into a depression, met someone special and fell in love with her, and I decided to propose to her. I was going to, anyway. So I took her out to this fancy restaurant back there", he pointed to a bright building across the street, "but just when we'd arrived a waiter spilt wine on her dress, proceeded to stumble over the table cloth, sending the engaging ring flying in the process, and as if that wasn't enough he accidentally lit the whole thing on fire. She left, the ring's gone and all that waiter left as a 'damage payment' were those random files-", the man gestured towards a stash of paper next to him, "So yeah, it was a bit of a rough night."

She leant against a lantern pole, smiling ever so slightly. It wasn't a friendly smile, though. It was much rather an amused, almost arrogant grin seemingly mocking the situation he'd just described. She noticed that he hadn't even bothered to look at her yet, else he probably wouldn't have been that chatty.

"John Watson, is it?" He glanced up in confusion, his eyes quickly darting from her face to her jacket and her shoes. "Ah, attempt at deductions. Must've gotten that habit from him", she thought, observing each and every of his moves. "Well, yes, but you are...?", he responded slowly, looking up at the unfamiliar face questioningly. Actually, if he thought about it, it didn't seem all that unfamiliar. These cheekbones, and those piercing blue eyes... No, he wouldn't dare to think of that. "Of course. Ida Holm's the name, pleasure to meet you.", a small, undefinable grin tugged at the corner of the black-haired's lips. "Ah... 'Holm', that's German. You don't have an accent, though?" She nodded approvingly, shortly chuckling at the way his drunk self slurred those words. "Long story, but in short my family moved there years ago, and we changed our last name for convenience."

He replied with a small nod, still looking at the strange visitor doubtingly. He was clearly expecting an explanation for that interruption of his 'calm' evening. "Well, that actually brings me right to the point. I'm terribly sorry for disturbing you in your rest, Doctor Watson, but I felt the need to talk to you. We're on the same page, after all.", she shot him an apologetic smile, seemingly not bothering to explain why exactly she knew him just yet. He quirked a brow. "Really? How come?" The tall woman smiled that knowing, almost mocking smile again that he'd started to hate over the past few minutes. It was so strangely familiar, the slightest bit of arrogance mixed with an 'I-know-everything'-look, putting him off and making him feel somewhat content at the same time.

"As you've probably concluded already the name 'Holm' originally comes from the well-known 'Holmes'. I am a distant cousin from your...", she hesitated slightly, "Friend, but unluckily I've lost touch over the past few years. But we always had a very good relationship, so naturally, the message of his... passing shocked me a lot." She was avoiding his gaze, staring at the bottle of wine he still held firmly in his hands. He'd slowly risen to his feet during her short speech, shifting slightly from one leg to the other. She noticed. "Of course, the limp's back"

Watson looked at the female disbelievingly. He'd gotten on with his life (That'd taken him long enough; almost three years in total), had found someone nice and considered himself cured of any Holmes-rubbish out there - and all of a sudden there was this woman standing in front of him, telling him she was a cousin of Sher- him. Said woman seemed to take his silence as an urge to continue her explanation and looked at the concrete beneath her feet before speaking. "Recently, I had a conversation with Mycroft Holmes, I do suppose you know him, and he just so happened to tell me a bit about you. Basically, I then figured that it'd be a good idea to talk to you once; sharing the pain, you know?", she stared at him expectingly, waiting for the smaller man's response. He just gaped at her. What was he supposed to say? "Oh, great, let's grab a coffee and chat a bit"? Instead, he just nodded slowly, sinking back onto the bench. The black-haired was quick to follow, seating herself next to him while staring into the night. 

Now, please excuse my terrible writing, English is not my first language so I'm not really good at that. But this is just an idea of how this could go. I haven't exactly figured out what would happen after that, but if I had then I'd have written a full story already. So do as you please with this, and tell me if you made something out of it!

[finalproblem]

Indica Watson‏ @SiblingSecret  Mar 28 I loved the #TFP read-through.Everyone was so lovely.Note how they didn't print Sian's main character name!@Markgatiss @suevertue #Sherlock

(source)

I feel like this settles the Ursa / Elsa / Ilse question.

(As for Fiona... 🤷 If I had to guess, maybe that was the original name for Faith in The Lying Detective? And then either someone pointed out Elementary had just used the name “Fiona” for Sherlock’s girlfriend or the writers simply decided Faith was a better name for the character what with the symbolism and all. But again, that’s only a guess.)

[maryholmes94]

Very interesting take.

Although I would rather suggest that Sherlock doesn't hate himself, but rather doesn't know what it is to be loved, which is similar, but a bit different after all. It is a problem of all Holmes children - they don't know what it is to be loved, and therefore, as you say, they don't value their own lives. As for Mycroft - well, being an older sibling myself (with exactly the same 7 years age gap), I can only say that a childhood with a younger brother whom the parents like a little more than you (not love, but like) could be filled with something that people may call 'abuse', but it's always a two edged thing. Besides, what Mycroft was saying was actually true. He was smarter than Sherlock, and Eurus was smarter than him - but he never said he was better than both of them. And don't forget: he was not an only person who was hiding the truth from Sherlock. What about their parents? When Victor died, all three siblings were underage, and Mr and Mrs Holmes were responsible for them, so they were there when Sherlock 're-wrote' his memories, and apparently approved it.

And as for John - well, the huge part of 'Sherlock' fandom (first of all johnlockers) believes - wrongly - that this show was similar to traditional understanding of the Holmes-Watson duo, which we saw in movies with Rathbone and Bruce, Livanov and Solomin, Brett and his two Watsons, where the producers played on the motto "the opposites attract". But it was never the case in 'Sherlock'. From the very beginning John was aggressive, demanding and reprimanding, because he was trying to make from Sherlock a person who would suit him and compared with whom he would look 'normal'. They were never 'opposites', and they never had this ability to find peace in each other's company, because both were seeking the same thing, adrenaline. And in 'The Lying Detective' all this negativity came to surface, and, by beating Sherlock John was actually beating himself. And as for Sherlock - well, he doesn't have much experience with relationships, so he can't see when the relationship is toxic and needs serious mending. He just doesn't know what to do in such situations, as he himself said to this therapist in 'The Six Thatchers'.

And finally, this scene from 'The Final Problem' - I rewatched the whole series this summer and have to say that it is very clever. Because what Moriarty says? He says: 'Here we are. The end of the line. Holmes killing Holmes'. But there are three Holmeses in the room, and so it could be interpreted as 'Sherlock killing Mycroft', but also 'Eurus killing Sherlock' and 'Sherlock killing Sherlock'. And what Eurus didn't expect was that Sherlock would change the rules of her game in order to cross that line. She didn't see that coming because the last time he was confronted with such choice he chose friendship, not family. And now he metaphorically 'killed' himself in order to become a different person - someone who would care for his friends but would not forget his family.

The Lying Detective, self hatred and acceptance of abuse

There's something I need to let out of my chest about Sherlock and this episode in particular, cause it's the one that really opened my eyes about something very important regarding Sherlock: he hates himself. He really does, and because he hates himself he believes he deserves all the abuse he gets from the persons he loves.

At some point he says he believed he thought he was an idiot, because Mycroft kept repeating he was the smartest one when they were younger. That was until he met "ordinary people" and realized he was actually, you know, very smart compared to others. And yet, he kept believing that Mycroft was way above him in terms of intelligence. He accepted it, and because he accepted it he trusted him to know what was better for him. And Mycroft, in return, felt entitled to let him believe that Redbeard was a dog and not his childhood friend, and to hide him that he had a sister, who was also a murderer, who had let said friend rot in a well. He felt he had to do it because he didn't trust Sherlock to handle the truth. He thought he was what? too stupid to understand? Too sensitive?

Now don't get me wrong, I love Mycroft as a character, and I know that he did all that "for Sherlock's good", but at the end of the day, lying, manipulate a child's memory and repeating him all the time that he's stupid was textbook abuse. And Sherlock wouldn't have accepted to be called stupid, and would have probably seen that Mycroft wasn't THAT intelligent if he wasn't so deep in self-loathing. But then how was he supposed to love himself if he was always treated like the "slow one" of the family by his own big brother?

When Molly slapped him not once, but THREE TIMES, because he was high, again he didn't flinch, didn't protest. It's not an attack against Molly, I understand why she was upset at the sight of the man she loved destroying himself, but my point is: he could have considered that it wasn't her business, he could have told her to stop. But again, if someone he respects like Molly believes he deserves to be slapped, then he does.

Now John. Sorry guys, that's the hard part I have to say out loud. John was an excellent friend up until a certain time, no argument. One could even argue, and be right, that Sherlock was the abusive one for a while: he treated him like an idiot -but then Sherlock thinks everyone's an idiot except for Mycroft, ruined his first date, unintentionnally (or not) ruined several of his relationships by being obnoxious around his girlfriends, played dead for two years instead of confiding in him like any good friend would do, made him believe they would both die only to hear him say good things about him, I mean... Sherlock's definitely not an angel and for quite a long time, he was rather a shitty friend too. I guess growing up without friends, not even your own sibling will do that to you, but it's an explanation, not an excuse for being an asshole to everyone.

And yet John accepted him as he was, and always forgave him, so of course Sherlock came to idealize him like he idealized Mycroft, for different reasons of course. For the record, I love Sherlock and John's relationship/friendship/bromance/romance/whatever it is. Up until TLD at least I found it... precious. Yes Sherlock was an ass, more than once, but he acknowledged it, and showed he wanted to be better: he not only apologized, but he also grew to become a better person, someone who would be worth of John's affection.

What happened in The Lying Detective, though... what the hell happened? So John was sad because he lost Mary. Understandable. Even if popular theories like to claim he never loved her, his despair and the fact that he keeps her ghost with him all the time said it loud and clear: John loved Mary, very much indeed. And he was mad at Sherlock who he considered responsible for Mary's death. It was also understandable, if Sherlock hadn't shut his big mouth, yada yada... Ah I love to see a a female character fridged so two male characters can suffer and grow thanks to her sacrifice . But then what we know... happened, Sherlock was high as a kite, to the point he was very close to losing it completely he lost it completely, he took a scalpel and John, well, stopped him. But then John lashed on him. He BEAT HIM UP LIKE A PULP, which was at this point completely unjustifiable because Sherlock was no longer a threat, and he would have maybe killed him in his effort if two male nurses hadn't stopped him. But this post isn't about John and his disturbing lust for violence, not really. It's about Sherlock.

What Sherlock did? Nothing. Not one time did he try to defend himself. He took all the hits, didn't ask John to stop, just once again... Accepted. He accepted that he deserved John's violence, even said John was entitled to do that because he had "killed his wife". And Joh doubled down, "yes you killed my wife". But HE knew it wasn't true. Sherlock didn't, though. He was sick because he felt as if he had killed Mary herself, and that's why he was so adamant to grant her her last wish. As someone who hated myself for a long time, I totally recognized the impulse to take the blame for everything bad that happens. That's what Sherlock does, all the damn time.

Violence between men is often glossed over because the old say "boys will be boys". After all it wasn't the first time that John beat Sherlock up, he had done it after Sherlock came back from the dead but it was just for laughs and giggles then, "haha so funny John assaulted him three times, look his noise's bleeding, lol", and also the audience thought that Sherlock deserved it after all, so... it was fine, sort of. Notice that there too, Sherlock didn't try to fight back and didn't ask John to stop. Like, I still don't undrstand why John punched him the last time: because he told him he missed the thrill of the chase? What was wrong in saying that? Except that it was probably true? I'm personally never comfortable with the normalization of violence between men on TV especially when only one is actually fighting the other, but that's just me I guess.

In TLD it was very different. It wasn't funny, and it was certainly not ok. And I was very upset when at the end, not only John didn't apologize to his best friend for physically abusing him, but Sherlock was the one comforting him at the end. The man had almost been murdered by a serial killer, before that his second role model beat him like a pulp for a crime he didn't commit, and he was still the one being strong for John.

I have a big problem with the way this matter was handled, because John's violence was just.... forgotten. And if it had been the only time that he had expressed his anger against Sherlock with his fists, I'd agree it was just a bad moment in their relationship even though he'd still need to apologize for making it ok. But here there's nothing that tells Sherlock that John won't do it again; nothing that guarantees that the next time Sherlock will upset him, John won't lash out on him again, and it will be acceptable because for some reason, violence against a man is somehow ok.

The idea is, I suppose, that there's no power imbalance like there is between a man a woman. If Sherlock wanted to fight John he probably could easily win, he's strong and has enough fighting skills for that. That's not the problem. There IS a power imbalance in that Sherlock will always believe that John is entitled to be mad at him, thus to beat him up if he wants. And since John apparently never apologized for assaulting Sherlock, I have no idea if he realized how wrong it was, and if he intends to change. I don't know about you, but personally I thought texting a woman in secret from his wife wasn't a big deal compared to what he did to Sherlock, and yet that was the only thing that, apparently, John felt guilty of.

Sherlock really broke my heart when he told John that by saving his life, Mary had given it a value. Which meant, basically that before Mary's sacrifice, his life had no value whatsoever, at least in his eyes. Let that sink in for a minute.

"The Lying Detective" is a very fitting name for this episode and for Sherlock in general, because Sherlock doesn't just lie about being almost killed by Culverton Smith, he constantly lies to himself.

He did it when he claimed he fell back into his drug habits "for a case" -if he wanted to attract the press/Magnussen's attention on him there was a lot of things he could have done, he did it all his life about being devoid of feelings and emotions, did it about the reason why he literally offered his life to Culverton; yeah he wanted to "save John Watson" and honor Mary, but it was also about ending his own suffering, a result he hoped to get at best by catching Culverton Smith, at worst by dying.

No wonder why when Eurus challenged him to choose between John and Mycroft, he chose to kill himself. That's actually strange that she didn't see it coming. Probably she didn't know him as much as she thought. He made that choice because he thought he was the one deserving to die. Not Mycroft, not John, not even Eurus... Of course it was also a calculated risk, as he had understood at this point that he was the only one Eurus wanted to keep alive because everything she did was about him for some reason. But I truly believe he would have rather pulled the trigger and shot himself rather than killing Mycroft or John. I saw once someone claim that Mycroft knew Sherlock would choose to save John anyway and that's why he wanted to make things easier, but I think nothing's further for the truth. Sherlock would have never chosen. It would have always been him.

[french-vanilla-in-the-clouds]

𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Sherlock x Reader

Summary: When Eurus entangles Y/N in her violent game of intellect, Sherlock must sacrifice something he never expected to care for.  As he looks back upon what he will lose, he sees only the fragments of his shattered heart...​

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Sherrinford, High Security Prison

“If you want her out of the game, you’ll have to burn her out of it.”

“Sister, please. I beg of you... don’t.”

Sherlock Holmes stood hunched before the monitor, his tone bleeding with desperation.

“I’m afraid this is non negotiable. It’s either her heart or her life. Choose one or I’ll have no choice but to take both. Of course, the bit about her heart won’t be in the metaphorical sense, you understand.”

A red light blared throughout the room and Jim Moriarty’s jives echoed off the walls. Sherlock’s fists clenched as he looked up at Eurus’ sickly smile of triumph.

“I can’t... I won’t destroy everything we’ve built...” he whispered to himself. “Not like this.”

Doctor Watson placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Your sister is insatiable and that makes her dangerous,” he said in a low voice. “There’s more at stake here than just your pride. Soldiers, remember? Maybe you should-”

“Not now John! Don’t you see? I love her!”

Sherlock blanched at his own admission. Y/N was the light of his life and he couldn’t let Euros jeopardize that.

John’s jaw clenched as he stared back with a look of sorrow. “That’s exactly why you need to do it. You need to break her heart to save her life.”

Sherlock looked down at the mobile phone in his hand. As the seconds ticked by, his beloved Y/N came closer to her demise. Eurus had set an assassin after her and unless he complied with his sister’s task, Y/N would face a swift death.

He felt a million passions ricocheting in his heart. There were no more tricks up his sleeve. Sherlock had to submit to his sister’s will or face the consequences.

“I won’t lose her...” he whispered. Taking a deep breath, Sherlock turned to John and nodded steadily. “Soldiers.”

With shaky hands, he dialled Y/N’s number and listened to the timbre of the rings.

He closed his eyes as the world spun around him, and his mind raced in reminiscence. Sherlock could suddenly see thousands of snapshots of the beautiful life which he was about to destroy...

***

“John, I’ve told you before, I haven’t the time for your little friend. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I have a case to solve!”

The doctor sighed and rubbed at his throbbing temple. “If you would just hear her out-”

Sherlock stepped over the coffee table and walked to the door. He made a point to swing it open with great emphasis. “Forgive me,” he said to the girl with a smile that was anything but polite. “But I am very busy. If you would kindly take your leave before-“

“It was the perfume, Mr Holmes.”

Sherlock paused at the girl’s quiet declaration. “Come again?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

Y/N cleared her throat. “The perfume,” she repeated. “The victim smelled of perfume the day her body was found.”

“I’m aware. Did you have a point?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Mrs Thewlis was allergic to Ethanol, the prime ingredient in perfume. She wouldn’t be wearing it unless someone forced her to.”

She crossed her arms as she continued on. “I asked Molly to run a toxicology test and the report came back positive. Traces of poison were found in Thewlis’ bloodstream, seemingly absorbed through her skin.”

She paused for effect. “My theory, Mr Holmes is that somebody sprayed the victim with a sort of chemical infused mist and that there was no murder weapon at the crime scene because the victim was wearing it the entire time!”

Sherlock said nothing. He simply observed the girl in curious silence before closing the door and walking towards her.

“You’re saying that somebody doused her perfume with poison?”

“Yes, Mr Holmes.”

“What’s your name?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated to himself. “Well Y/N, congratulations on cracking your first case.”

Sherlock couldn’t wrap his head around it. How could this girl have possibly picked up on something that he had missed? Normally he’d have felt a wounded pride, a violent jealousy at her intellect, but strangely enough, he felt nothing. On the contrary, Sherlock was intrigued by her sharpness. He suddenly felt a burning desire to know more about her.

Sherlock was snapped back to attention by the sound of her voice. “I’m glad that I could be of assistance. Good day, Mr Holmes.” Y/N gave a curt nod as a means of farewell and was just about to leave the flat when she felt a hand on her wrist.

She turned around and saw the consulting detective. “Please,” he said, extending a gloved hand. “Call me Sherlock. Will you stay for tea?”

***

A soft amber light streamed in through the gossamer curtains of 221B Baker Street. The delicate London breeze danced in through the window, making the thin veils flutter.

Y/N hummed softly as the quaint disturbance roused her from her sleep. She tilted her head to the side and caught a glimpse of the time. 5:45 on a Friday morning. She felt movement to her right, and was suddenly exposed to the morning chill as her blanket was yanked away.

Turning on her side, Y/N was met by Sherlock’s sleeping frame. She gave a shiver and was just about to reprimand him for hoarding the covers when something struck her.

She drew a breath at the sight of him lying next to her. His tousled hair was pressed against the pillow, soft and unruly. His bare chest heaved in slow breaths, moving up and down steadily. His face was unmarred by the stress of his waking moments. Sherlock looked comfortable and at ease. 

Though she had been waking up to this same sight every morning for the past few years, Y/N felt as though she were seeing him for the very first time whenever she caught him in these quiet moments of dawn.

She reached out to touch him just to prove to herself that he was more than a perfect illusion. Her hand lingered mere inches away when Sherlock spoke, his voice heavy with sleep. “You’re awake.”

“Yes, a chill woke me. Somebody was greedy with the covers...”

He opened his eyes and grinned. “How tragic.”

With a soft groan he shifted and pulled Y/N closer, wrapping an arm around her so that she lay with her head in the crook of his arm. She sighed contentedly and grazed his skin with her fingertips. Resting her palm against his chest, she felt the steady beat of his heart.

“What are you thinking?”

Y/N paused for a moment. “I’m thinking that this might be too good to be true.”

“You’re right,” Sherlock said, propping himself up on an elbow. He looked down at Y/N and smiled. “This is much too good to be true, but I would be a fool to question it.” With his free hand, Sherlock cupped the back of Y/N’s neck and brought her close to his upturned lips. “I’ll be damned if I let anything come between us. I swear to you, I’m not going anywhere.”

Sherlock finally kissed her. As the morning rays shone through the airy curtains, Y/N took comfort in the thought that their love was infinite.  

***

Gone was the music.

A familiar burning sensation prickled at the back of her eyes, but still, Y/N denied herself the tears.

She sat quietly in Sherlock’s old armchair, staring at the bullet ridden wall.

“Yoo-hoo,” called a voice from the doorway. Y/N hardly stirred as Mrs Hudson came bustling in with a tray of tea and biscuits.

“Morning’ dearie, I brought you a cuppa’! I thought you might fancy a treat,” the kindly landlady said, forcing a cheery tone.

She took a look around the room and frowned at the gathering dust and drawn curtains. “It’s a bit gloomy in here, isn’t it?”

Grief had taken its toll since Sherlock’s fall, and Y/N was a transparent reflection of it. Her eyes were bloodshot and held an emptiness to them as she reflected within the abandoned flat, lost in her memories.

“It’s fine, really,” Y/N said a weakly.

Mrs Hudson’s gaze shifted. Y/N was wearing Sherlock’s old coat. A mahogany patch stained the collar. A reminder.

“It’s been two years, love. It’s time to let go.”

A glossy trail streamed down Y/N’s cheek, but still she smiled. “He’ll be back,” she said, her voice cracking. “He promised me that he wasn’t going anywhere. If I just wait here, I’m sure-”

“He’s not coming back,” Mrs Hudson said gently.

Y/N turned away. “I told him it was too good to be true.”

Mrs Hudson smiled sympathetically. “I’ll be downstairs, love.”

Y/N grabbed hold of her chair’s armrests and squeezed. She winced as a hot trail of tears slicked her cheeks.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Sherlock wasn’t supposed to have been on that rooftop. He wasn’t meant to leave her grieving. 

He wasn’t supposed to be gone.

Perhaps Mrs Hudson was right. Maybe it was time to move on like John had. Y/N ran a hand through her hair and let out a shaky breath. She was just about to reach for her tea when she heard a loud crash and a scream come from downstairs.

“Mrs Hudson?” Y/N stood up in a panic and rushed downstairs, heart racing.

“Mrs Hudson!” she cried out.

Y/N found her landlady in the kitchen, shattered porcelain on the floor. “Are you alright?” she asked warily.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine. It was simply a mild shock.”

A chill ran up Y/N’s spine at the sound of that distantly familiar voice. It can’t be... she thought incredulously. Carefully, she turned her gaze upwards and noticed for the first time the man standing at the doorway.

“Hello,” he waved awkwardly.

Standing at the other end of the room was Sherlock Holmes.

Y/N stared as he shifted uncomfortably under her critical gaze. Dressed in his signature trench coat and dress pants, he looked the same as the day she had lost him.

“New coat?” she asked, stunned.

Sherlock cleared his throat. “Yes, actually. Unlike yours, I suppose. I see you held onto the old one...” He looked to the floor. “it... well, it suits you, mind the gore.”

Y/N ignored his attempt at humour. “You’re back,” she whispered.

When he looked back at her, his eyes glistened. “How could you expect me to stay away?”

***

“You can’t be serious!”

“I swear it’s true!”

Y/N listened carefully from the hall as John, Mary, and Greg conferred in 221B. From what she could hear, they were talking about her and Sherlock. Though it had been months since they had reunited, the pangs of lost love still inflamed their passions. 

“He actually said that to you? Those exact words?”

Y/N frowned at the excitement in Mary’s tone as she grilled John on something that Sherlock had allegedly told him. John laughed and Y/N peeked through the crack in the door to catch him kiss his wife lightly on the nose. 

“Those exact words,” he affirmed softly. “Sherlock is thinking of proposing marriage to Y/N.”

Y/N let out a small gasp and clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound of her surprise. She blinked as a wave of emotions crossed through her. Marriage? Sherlock? These two words were foreign in the same sentence and she had to take a breath to contain herself. 

“Bloody hell...” she heard Lestrade mutter from the flat. “Our boy’s found it,” he said softly. “He’s found his heart.” 

“Keep your voice down!” John whispered sharply. “Y/N will be here any minute, and she can’t know!”

Y/N stepped back and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. She felt her heart race and couldn’t stop smiling. Sherlock Holmes, the man that she adored more than she ever imagined she could, was on the verge of proposing to her.  

“Sneaking about, are we?"

Y/N gave a start when she opened her eyes and saw Sherlock standing before her, brow upturned. 

She straightened herself and smiled nervously. “I was just about to head inside.”

“Is that why you’re lurking just outside the flat, plastered against the wall?” Sherlock asked sarcastically. 

Y/N shrugged, not knowing what to say. Just at that moment though, Greg opened the door to meet them. 

“Oi, we could hear you gabbing out here. Are you coming in or what? We’ve been expecting you.”

Sherlock peered past the Detective Inspector’s shoulder and found John and Mary grinning guiltily inside. His lips twitched in a hidden smile as he deduced what exactly was happening. “Yes,” he said slowly. “We’ll be right there.”

When Greg stepped back inside, Sherlock turned to Y/N. “You haven’t been eavesdropping on others’ conversations, have you?” he asked sweetly.

She looked at at him in feigned shock. “I would never!” 

Sherlock studied her, his smile growing as he regarded the charming glint in her eyes. In that moment, he caught flashes of a future with her. Since they had met, Sherlock had reimagined his previous notions of the dullness of domesticity. Though marriage had once seemed a burden to him, Y/N had changed that, and Sherlock knew that nothing would be grander than a quaint life by her side. 

“What have I done to deserve you?” he asked softly. Y/N watched as Sherlock pressed her gently against the wall, and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed the crown of her head before leaning forwards and grazing the shell of her ear. “I love you,” he whispered delicately. Sherlock closed his eyes and whispered again, “I love you.”

***

Sherrinford, High Security Prison

“Hello?”

Sherlock’s eyes snapped open. He scanned the room, disoriented. He had felt safe for a moment, caught in remembrance, but the sterility of Sherrinford’s cell had cut through the dream. 

He caught a flash of Eurus frowning from the monitor and looked back to find John standing solemnly behind him. Y/N's voice blared from hidden speakers. Nothing had changed.

“Hello?”

Sherlock drew a breath at the familiarity of the voice on the other end of the line. His task became clear once more. He pinched the bridge of his nose and gulped.

“Hello love,” he said, his tone strained. 

Red lights flashed in warning and Sherlock looked up. “This isn’t a social call,” Eurus said icily. “Don’t try and mitigate the blow with pet names. It’s her heart or her life Sherlock, I think I’ve made that clear.” 

A pang of alarm shot through him. There was no way out. 

“Sherlock, is that you?” Y/N asked from the other end of the line. “Are you alright?”

Sherlock walked to one of the cell’s walls and leaned an arm against it, seeking purchase. He thought of Eurus’ hire, trigger finger itching for a clean shot.

“Sherlock?” she called again. “Can you hear me?”

Sherlock needed to burn her out of his story. "I pray you'll forgive me..." he whispered to himself. Standing tall, he straightened his collar and detached himself from the warmth that Y/N had inspired in him throughout all their years. Sherlock Holmes became ice.  

“Y/N?” he said. “I need you to listen to me.”

"I'm listening," she said uncertainly.

Red lights flashed and Moriarity’s malarkey reigned.

"About us," Sherlock continued, "We've come far."

Y/N laughed. "You called to talk about us? What’s this-”

"Don't interrupt," he said curtly. "I need to fix this."

There was a moment of silence before Y/N responded. "What are you saying?” she asked slowly. 

"I mean to say that I'm ending this. Our experiment."

"Experiment?” she scoffed.

Sherlock's voice was brisk and steady, devoid of feeling. "Indeed. You see, our relationship was was only ever a simulation of sentiment. A psychological examination. A game of science."

He could hear Y/N’s breath hitch and he clenched his fist in guilt. He was slowly approaching the end. 

“It’s all been a rouse,” he said tensely. “ A clever experiment to test the naivety of the human mind, and you Y/N, were the ideal subject. Insecure, wide-eyed, and unduly retentive; you were foolishly loyal to a man that never cared, and it has proved your undoing.”

Sherlock waited for Y/N to hang up the phone. To curse him or yell obscenities from the receiver. He waited for her anger, silently praying she would cut him off. It was the only way Eurus would spare her, and Y/N’s acrimony against him was well worth her life.   

She said nothing.

Subconscious sirens hammered in his mind. Sherlock couldn’t know for sure if she had believed him. He had to push harder. “ You’re nothing more than a failed enterprise,” he said sharply. He heard his voice rise until he was sure he sounded manic. “ You have nothing left to offer, so I implore you to leave me be!” 

Silence dragged on until Sherlock finally heard Y/N sniff. She let out a shaky breath and spoke. “Sherlock,” she began softly. “I’m not sure what you’ve gotten yourself into, but you can’t expect me to believe a word of what you just said.”

no. no. no. no. no... 

Sherlock shook his head furiously. She wasn’t supposed to be kind. She was meant to be hurt. 

Y/N gave an unsettled laugh before continuing. “I love you, Sherlock,” she whispered. “I love---”

Shattered glass and silence. 

Sherlock collapsed to his knees. “Y/N?” he asked gently. A shiver ran up his spine at the blackout stillness. “Y/N!” he cried out. His hands trembled in horror and bile rose in his throat. It isn’t so... he thought. it can’t be so... 

“I’m afraid you’re out of luck, brother.” Eurus said softly. 

Sherlock looked up at his sister, his eyes bloodshot. 

She cocked her head to the side, feigning sympathy. “You failed,” she said simply. “Let’s move on, shall we?” The screen went dark and the cell lit up with crimson light. 

Sherlock stayed abased, kneeling on the cold flooring. A damp heat trailed down his cheeks, but he made no move to wipe it away. He thought of Y/N. He thought of her smile. Her laugh. Her silence. 

He thought of their thousands of moments past and the finality of her fall. 

He kneeled in sterile reminiscence. 

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*psssst!* try reading Corpses and Roses!!!

I FINISHED IT! I FINALLY FINISHED IT! THIS CURSED FIC HAD BEEN TRAPPED IN MY NOTES SINCE THE SUMMER BUT I FINALLY FINISHED IT!!!!

Hey you guys!!! What’s going on??? This fic is very heavy on the whole Molly x Sherlock ordeal back in Sherrinford, so I hope that’s something you’re into! I just thought it would be cool to write about snapshots from Sherlock and Y/N’s relationship, soooo yeah! Thanks for reading!!!!

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[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 4) Chapter Twenty-Two

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter Twenty-Two: Rigorous Experiment

Summary: Sherlock, (Y/N), John, and Mycroft are at Eurus's non-existent mercy, and her experiments begin.

            (Y/N) groaned and blinked as they awoke. Sherlock was beside them and guided them to their feet in a moment, looking at them worriedly. John was already awake, rubbing his head, and Mycroft stood at the wall. The director sat dejectedly in a corner. They were in a grey and white room, empty and barren.

            “Are you alright?” asked Sherlock.

            (Y/N) nodded. “Just bruised,” they said. “Did you see Eurus?” It was time to focus. Their head being bruised meant nothing in the grand scheme of being locked up by an amoral genius.

            “Yes,” said Sherlock.

            “How was that?” said John.

            “Family is always difficult,” said Sherlock.

            “Is this an occasion for banter?” said Mycroft incredulously.

            “Case in point,” said Sherlock, gesturing at Mycroft.

            Over the speakers, a phone rang.

            “Are we ringing someone?” said John.

            “Apparently,” said Sherlock.

            “What is he doing here?” said (Y/N), narrowing their eyes and looking at the director.

            “As he is told,” said Sherlock. “Eurus is in control.”

            “Help me, please.” Over the phone and speakers, the tearful voice of a young girl appeared. Everyone tensed. “I’m on a plane. Everyone’s asleep. Help me.”

            The lights turned red.

            “Hello. My name’s Jim Moriarty,” said a lilting voice. “Welcome to the final problem.”

            (Y/N) shivered at his voice, and Sherlock’s hands on their shoulders tightened protectively.

            The lights went to normal.

            “It’s okay, he’s dead,” said Sherlock firmly.

            “He doesn’t sound dead,” said John.

            Red lights. “This is a recorded announcement,” said Moriarty cheerfully. “Please say hello to some very old friends of mine.”

            “Hello?” said the little girl. “I can hear you talking. Please, help me. I’m on a plane, and it’s going to crash.”

            “What is this? We can’t do this,” snapped Mycroft.

            “Shut up,” said (Y/N), glaring at him. If there was a child in danger, then they would help.

            “Is something there?” said the girl.

            “Is this supposed to be a game?” said Mycroft.

            “Be quiet,” said Sherlock.

            “Please help me,” sobbed the girl.

            “Hello,” said (Y/N), speaking up for the girl. “Try to stay calm. Okay? Take a few breaths for me.”

            “What’s your name?” said Sherlock, keeping his voice gentle.

            “I’m not supposed to tell my name to strangers,” said the girl.

            “Of course not, very good, but…I’ll tell you mine,” said Sherlock. “My name is—”

            A click signified the line disconnecting.

            “Hello?” said Sherlock.

            A screen buzzed to life, and Eurus’s face appeared. “Oh, dear,” she said. “We seem to have lost the connection.”

            “How have you done this?” demanded Mycroft. “How is any of this possible?”

            “You put me in here, Mycroft. You brought me my treats,” said Eurus.

            Sherlock furrowed his brow.

            “What treats?” said (Y/N).

            Mycroft lowered his gaze.

            Eurus lifted a remote and pressed a button.

            Red announced Moriarty’s voice, this time accompanied by his face on the screen. “Clever Eurus! You go, girl!”

            “How can that be Moriarty?” said John.

            “Oh, he recorded lots of little messages for me before he died,” said Eurus. “Loved it. Did you know his brother was a station master? I think he was always jealous.”

            “The girl. Where is she?” said Sherlock. “Can we talk to her again?”

            “Poor little thing,” said Eurus, her voice still monotone. “Alone in the sky on a great, big plane with nowhere to land. But where in the world is she? It’s a clever little puzzle. If you want to apply yourself to it, I can reconnect you, but first…”

            She rolled away from the camera to reveal a woman handcuffed and gagged in a chair behind her.

            “That’s my wife,” gasped the director. “That’s my wife!” He scrambled to his feet. “Oh, God, that’s my wife.”

            “I’m going to shoot the director’s wife,” said Eurus blandly.

            So this is her type of game. (Y/N) narrowed their eyes.

            “Please, no,” begged the director. “Please.” He looked at the group. “Help her.”

            “In about a minute…Bang. Dead,” said Eurus.

            “Please don’t do that,” said Sherlock.

            “Well, you can stop me,” said Eurus.

            “How?” said Sherlock.

            “There’s a gun in the hatch. Take it,” said Eurus.

            Sherlock went to the hatch and lifted a gun from it.

            “You want to save the director’s wife?” said Eurus. “Choose either Dr. Watson, Mycroft, or (Y/N) to kill the director.”

            John let out a breath, (Y/N)’s fingers began to tap, and Mycroft turned away from the screen. Sherlock looked at them worriedly.

            “Oh…Oh, god.” The director sobbed.

            Sherlock stepped forward.

            “You can’t do it, Sherlock,” said Eurus. “If you do it, it won’t count. I’ll kill her anyway.”

            She will anyway. The thought flickered through (Y/N)’s mind, and despite having no basis, they felt truth in the thought.

            “Dad,” said (Y/N).

            “It has to be your brother, your child, or your friend,” said Eurus.

            “You have to do this,” said the director. “Eurus will kill her!”

            “She will kill her anyways,” said (Y/N).

            The director looked at them and furiously shook his head. “No, no! Play her game! Just do it! Do what she says!” He was in Eurus’s “spell” or whatever she could do. He was listening to her and only her.

            “Dad,” said (Y/N), looking at Sherlock.

            “We don’t have a choice,” said Sherlock. “She has to play by some rules.”

            “But she doesn’t,” said (Y/N) quietly.

            “It’s a test on us. Punishment,” said Sherlock. He touched their shoulder. “We have no choice. We could save her.”

            (Y/N)’s shoulders slumped. They were stuck and had nothing they could do.

            Sherlock looked at John and Mycroft and offered the gun. He wouldn’t make (Y/N) take another life. The only reason they didn’t regret killing Magnussen was that he threatened their family. Any other person, and they’d never pull the trigger.

            “Right, then,” said Eurus. “Countdown starting…”

            “How long?” said Mycroft as Sherlock stood in front of him with the gun.

            “No, no, no.” Eurus shook her head. “The countdown is for me. Withholding the precise deadline, I’m gonna apply the emotional pressure more evenly where possible. Please give me an explicit verbal indication of your anxiety levels. I can’t always read them from your behavior.”

            So she’s a genius who can predict everything about the world and control how people act, and her weakness is…emotions? People? The Holmes family shared the same genes. It seemed a spectrum—Sherlock the one with the heart, then Mycroft who had a heart and rejected it, and finally Eurus who couldn’t even recognize having a heart.

            “I can’t do this,” said Mycroft, staring at the gun and shaking his head. “Can’t, it’s murder.”

            “This is not murder,” said the director desperately. “This is saving my wife.”

            “I’m particularly focused on internal conflicts where strategizing round a largely intuitive moral code appears to create a counterintuitive result,” said Eurus.

            She’s running experiments. She’s being a scientist and trying to understand people. (Y/N) glanced at the screen where Eurus was watching them intently.

            “I will not kill,” said Mycroft. “I will not have blood on my hands.”

            “Yes, very good, thank you,” said Eurus, leaning back in her chair.

            “Killing my wife is what you’re doing,” said the director.

            Mycroft shook his head and stepped back. “No.”

            “Okay, fine.” Sherlock let out a breath and turned towards John. “John?” He held out the gun. He and John both knew (Y/N) was off the table—even if they’d offer to do it, neither their father nor their uncle were going to ask them to do this.

            “Dr. Watson, are you married?” said the director.

            “I was,” said John.

            “What happened?” asked the director.

            “She died,” said John stiffly.

            “What would you give to get her back?” said the director. “I mean, if you could, if it was possible. What would you do to save her? Eurus will kill me! Please save my wife!”

            “There will, I’m afraid, be regular prompts to create an atmosphere of urgency,” said Eurus.

            “Tick-tock,” said Moriarty with the red lights. “Tick, tick, tick, tick. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.”

            John looked at the gun and stiffly took it. He didn’t enjoy it in the slightest. He was just trying to spare a man what he had gone through. “What’s your name?” said John to the director.

            “David,” said the director softly.

            “Are you sure about this, David?” said John.

            “Of course I’m bloody sure,” said David.

            “Nearly there,” said Eurus.

            “Right, do you need want to pray or anything?” said John.

            “With Eurus Holmes in the world, who in the world would I pray for?” said David.

            “You’re a good man. You’re doing a good thing.” John was trying to do right by David before…

            “So are you,” said David.

            “I’ll spend the rest of my life telling myself that,” said John.

            He raised the gun. Mycroft turned away, and Sherlock held (Y/N) close. David closed his eyes. John stared at him. The gun wavered.

            “Please,” sobbed David. He turned around so he wasn’t facing the barrel. Then, he got down on his knees.

            John flicked off the safety, and David sobbed as he heard it.

            John leaned over his shoulder and spoke to him softly. “I know that you are scared, but you should also be very proud,” said John.

            “Just do it,” sobbed David. “Be quick.”

            “Tick, tick, tick. Tick, tick, tick,” sang Moriarty.

            “This is very good, Dr. Watson,” said Eurus. “I should have fitted you with a cardiograph.”

            “Goodbye, David,” said John, holding the gun tightly.

            “Tock, tock, tock, tock. Tick, tick, tick, tick,” said Moriarty.

            David sobbed. John trembled.

            “Please,” begged David.

            “I can’t!” John stepped back, shaking his head and swallowing hard. “Sorry, I can’t do it.”

            “Fine, it’s alright.” David got to his feet shakily. He grabbed the gun. He pointed at everyone as they tried to move towards him.

            Sherlock pushed (Y/N) behind him, and John shook his head.

            “Stop! No, no, stop!” said John.

            “I’m sorry,” sobbed David.

            “It’s alright,” said Sherlock, trying to speak calmly.

            “I’m sorry.” David pressed the gun to his throat, pointing up. “Remember me.”

            “No!” shouted everyone.

            Bang!

            Mycroft turned and retched. John stared in despair at David’s body. Sherlock stared, frustrated and upset at himself for failing. (Y/N) closed their eyes and tapped their fingers together, trying not to lose control.

            “Interesting.” That was all the reaction Eurus had.

            Sherlock stepped towards the screen. “Alright, there you go. You got what you wanted. He’s dead.”

            “Dead or alive…it really wasn’t very interesting,” said Eurus. “But you four, you four, were wonderful. Thank you.” She inhaled and leaned in. “You see, what you did, Dr. Watson, specifically, because of your moral code, because you don’t want blood on your hands, two people are dead instead of one.”

            “Not two people,” said John.

            “Yes. Sorry. Hang on.” Eurus leaned back and raised a gun.

            Bang!

            “Oh!” gasped John.

            Mycroft turned away and retched again. (Y/N) clenched their fists, digging their nails into their palms.

            “What advantage does your moral code grant you? Is it not, in the end, selfish to keep one’s hands clean at the expense of another’s life?” said Eurus.

            “You didn’t have to kill her!” shouted John.

            Eurus chuckled, the first change in expression the entire time. “The condition of her survival was that you, (Y/N), or Mycroft had to kill her husband.”

            “You would have killed her either way,” said (Y/N), looking evenly at the screen. “To see our reaction to how ‘even sacrificing one’s morals doesn’t give someone an advantage.’ ”

            Eurus leaned forward. “This is an experiment. There will be rigor.”

            “Exactly,” said (Y/N). “You just want to see emotional reactions. Understand them.”

            Eurus looked at (Y/N), her gaze blank, but (Y/N) knew her mind must be whirring. Then, as if nothing had transpired, she spoke again, monotone as ever. “Sherlock, pick up the gun. It’s your turn next. When I tell you to use it, and I will, remember what happened this time.”

            “What if I don’t want a gun?” said Sherlock.

            “Oh, the gun is intended as a mercy,” said Eurus.

            “For whom?” said Sherlock.

            “For you,” said Eurus.

            “How so?” said Sherlock. He had barely moved from his anger.

            “If someone else had to die, would you really want to do it with your bare hands?” remarked Eurus. “Would waste valuable time.”

            John swallowed. “Probably just take it.”

            Furious, Sherlock picked up the gun silently. He checked the clip. “There are only two bullets left.”

            “You will need two,” said Eurus.

            A door hidden in the wall slid open.

            “Please, go through,” said Eurus. “There’s a few tasks for you and a girl on a plane who’s getting very, very scared.”

            They stared at the door.

            Sherlock paused and turned to look at Mycroft. “Treats?” He refused to go forward without more information.

            Mycroft cleared his throat. “Yes. Treats. You know, a violin.”

            “In exchange for…?” said (Y/N), staring him down.

            “She’s very clever.” That was all Mycroft could say to defend himself.

            “I’m beginning to think you’re not,” said Sherlock.

            “I’m certain of it,” said (Y/N) evenly.

            “Come on now, all aboard!” said Moriarty’s voice. He mimicked a train whistle.

            The group walked onwards into the next room and further into Eurus’s experiments.

Taglist:

@stilesstilinskiforlife-blog

@im-making-an-effort

@ilse235

@schrodingers-intelligence

@awsedrftgyhujikol

@lxserthxngzzz

@forever1313

@mentallyunstablemanlover

@roo024

@ohimjustagirlidrathetnotbe

@snowy-violet

[topsyturvy-turtely]

similarities between heartstopper and teenlock ✨

no i haven't binge-watched the whole show and am making it all about johnlock because johnlock is my life

drawing by @boredsushi 💚

first: the looks: charlie is this skinny little lanky boy with dark curly hair. he obviously doesn't have the same cheekbones as sherlock but his face is pretty angular too. nick however is this strong boy who is, not like john blond, but ginger - still his hair looks similar to john's (talking about bbc sherlock and john here btw) with it being much fairer than sherlock's. he also has a "chubbier" face, just like john.

second: their personalities: charlie is this openly gay, very smart, "weird geek" kinda kid, who is getting bullied (which is kinda obvious that this happened to sherlock too, because that one dude who went to uni with him was such a bully in TBB (was it tbb?)). whereas nick is this popular boy as a rugby captain (which we all know is a an accepted headcanon for john in teenlock fics). everyone loves him. he is handsome, strong but kind and loyal and willing to put up a fight for his boyfriend sherlock charlie.

tori is eurus: i am not saying tori (charlie's sister) is a psychopath with multiple personalities (sherlock's sister) but... especially in the first few episodes she appeared out of nowhere creepily watching her brother from a corner. she also has the same hair length and color and bright eyes like eurus. idk if it's just me but she gives me eurus vibes... especially from her looks. she looks SO MUCH like eurus.

charlie & his coat: he loves it. he also likes scarves.

charlie has a purple button up shirt too. (PSSOOOOOSSSSS!!!)

their sexuality: charlie is openly gay. sherlock is a gay icon and he must be out to at least a few people because WHY ELSE would mrs. hudson imply they might not need two separate bedrooms oN ThE dAy jOhNLoCk mOvE iN tOgEtHeR?! nick is like a MAJOR BISASTER who is SO CONFUSED by his feelings for this cute curly haired smart boy that entered his life and who he kinda wants to spend all his time with...?! does that remind you of someone?

charlie almost never eats... sherlock however does all the time oh wait... no he doesn't.

i might be lashing out a bit here but their names: in S1E7 nick calls charlie "char"... which sounds similar to john calling his partner in crime (see what i did there? ;P) pretty often "sher"... it seems to be a thing that happens especially when john is being caught off guard in the middle of his sentence (like sherlock running away or sth) and nick seemed not to notice he was saying that either until charlie pointed it out. oh and charlie - short for charles... if you scramble it up a bit you could make "sherlac" out of it. which isn't the same as "sherlock" but it's pretty darn close if you ask me. oh and nick? contains of exactly four letters - just like john ;)

okay i am done now. do you agree??? did i miss something?! i mean i might have overdone it a bit but like COME ON?!

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph, how are you doing today? Hoping you're taking care of yourself. Just wanted to tell you that you are real gem of a person and your work in this blog helps so many people everyday. Kudos to you for doing such an amazing job.

Lastly, if you have free time can you please suggest me any new fluff fics like domestic or friends to lovers and preferably long ones.

Thank you in advance.

*Huggsss*

Hi Lovely!

Ahhh, I could be better! At the time you sent this (because I know this will be drafted for awhile since I'm using it as an excuse to post a new list), the sunshine is FINALLY showing itself after nearly two months of cloudy weather. Sunshine affects my mood positively, so while my normal bleh feelings are still there, it's not overwhelming anymore.

Thank you so much for your kind words on my blog! I'm glad you enjoy it, and I hope others do too :)

That said, and as I alluded to in the first paragraph, I'm going to take this opportunity to finally publish my FTL Pt. 3 list! WOOOOOO!! Hope you enjoy, and everyone please add your own!

FRIENDS TO LOVERS Pt. 3

See also:

T-RATED Pt. 1: Friends To Lovers Fics || [MOBILE LINK]

Friends to Lovers [FULL POST] || [MOBILE POST]

Friends to Lovers Pt. 2

Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Evermore by SosoHolmesWatson (G, 2,068 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4,  5-Year-Old Rosie, Love Confessions, Song Fic, Parentlock, Oblivious John, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Disney Songs, Beauty and the Beast) – For the past years, John and Sherlock have lived at Baker Street again, raising Rosie together--as friends and nothing more. Ever since the little girl has watched her first Disney movie, she is obsessed with princesses. When John comes home one day, he finds his friend and his daughter in the middle of a reenactment of her current favourite. Part 1 of Made of Music

A Gossamer Dream by CarmillaCarmine (E, 15,985 w., 4 Ch. || Writer/Teacher AU || First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Writer John / Teacher Sherlock, Fluff, London, Holding Hands, Online Friendship / Romance, Phone Sex, Anal Sex, Happy Ending, Alternating POV, Scottish John, Online Relationship, Internalized Homophobia, Hand Holding, Forehead Touching, First Kiss/Time, Texting/Sexting, Rimming, Toplock, Sherlock Speaks French) – Sherlock had never realised one could care so much about someone they'd never met in person. Now he is about to meet the friend with whom he's been chatting online for months and his anticipation is reaching a crescendo. 

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier. 

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

Rupert Street by WritingOutLoud (M, 27,262 w., 9 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Case Fic, Sexuality, Demisexual Sherlock, Drugging, Smart John, Sherlock Has Internalized Biphobia, Fluff, Angst with Happy Ending, Gay Bar, Flirting, John Manipulates Sherlock to Eat, John Deduces, Arguments, Kidnapping/Torture, Hospitalization, John Whump) – Discharged from the war with nothing but the clothes on his back and a realisation of his bisexuality, John Watson has to learn who he’s become. He can’t afford London on an army pension, but the city is the only friend he has. In an effort to understand his newfound queer identity, he heads to a bar one night, where he stumbles across a mysterious stranger who turns his life upside down. ‘I dug around inside myself, and I'm not quite sure what I found, but it was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.’

Sunday Evening 6 p.m. by Silvergirl (E, 30,712 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF / TEH Divergence, Grief / Mourning / Stages of Grief, Mutual Pining, Dreams, Reunion, Love Confessions, First Kiss / Time, Alternating First Person POV, Smart John, BAMF Boys, Emotional Love Making, Song Fic, Referenced Suicide, First Kiss / Time, Touching, Sleepy Sherlock, Blow Job, Villain Mary) – Six months after Sherlock jumped, he learns that John is dedicating songs to him on a requests-only radio programme. Is John just working through grief? Or is he—communicating? Fixes the hell out of S3 by pre-empting it altogether. Remember, as TAB told us, John is Pretty Damn Smart.

Deck the Halls by itsalwaysyou_jw (T, 31,018 w., 24 Ch. || Advent Fic / Multiple One-Shots, Assorted Tags) – One Johnlock ficlet for every day leading up to Christmas. Who is ready for pining, first kisses, established Johnlock, and everything in between? This collection of stand-alone ficlets will have it all. 

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION || Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

Isosceles by SilentAuror (E, 56,609 w., 7 Ch. || Post-S4, POV John, Original Male Character / Sherlock Dates Another Man, Love Triangle, Jealous John, Virgin Sherlock, Sexual Coaching, Angst, Romance, Domesticity, Unrequited Feelings, Miscommunication, First Kiss/Time, For a Case, Friends With Benefits, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Spooning) – After solving a case for a major celebrity, Sherlock gets himself asked out. When John asks, he discovers that Sherlock has no intention of going, at least not until John agrees to coach him through whatever he might need to know for his date...

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton  (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic / Meta Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Demisexual Sherlock, Holmes Family, John Whump, Gay Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Drug Addiction, Parenting, TFP is a Nightmare, Virgin Sherlock, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Switchlock, John’s Past, Sherlock’s Past, Eurus, Love Confessions) – Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns. 

[xu-ren]

Genshin gods and their connection to demonology and mythology

I’m no expert on demonology nor mythology, simply someone that enjoys both and the connection between them and Genshin Impact. I think that Mihoyo did a splendid job on the choices they made when deciding which demons in The Lesser Key of Solomon to use. Anyways, I hope that you enjoy. 

Barbatos

Barbatos in demonology is one of the earls of hell, ruling thirty legions of demons and has four kings as his companions to command his legions. His name seems to derive from Latin 'barbatus', bearded, old man, philosopher. He is the 8th demon in The Lesser Key of Solomon, while Pseudomonarchia Daemonum listed him as the 6th demon.

So far it does not really have anything to do with Genshin, except maybe the fact that Barbatos refers to Morax as old man when his name means old man, so that’s a little ironic.

Barbatos is very known for his command over archery, which is why Barbatos in Genshin uses a bow.

Alright, here is the fun part, Barbatos, unlike some of the other demons in The Lesser Key of Solomon, doesn’t have anything to do with foreign gods. Foreign gods in this case refers to gods not belonging to the Abrahamic religions.

In fact, Barbatos is a fallen angel and was once of the order of the virtues of heaven. This is a delicious piece of irony, given that Barbatos’ godly form greatly resembles an angel.

Barbatos takes upon the name ‘Venti’ as a mortal. The name Venti is most likely Latin instead of Italian. Venti in Latin means wind, and can either refer to the entirety of the four wind gods that serve Aiolos, the Roman Lord of the Winds, whose Greek counterpart is Aeolus or a specific type of wind spirit in Roman mythology, whose Greek counterpart is known as Anemoi Thuellai. The wind spirits are violent storm winds, sons of the monstrous hurricane-giant Typhoeus and were kept locked up in Aiolos’ floating fortress. 

The four wind gods that served Aiolos are Aquilo, the north wind, Favonius, the west wind, Notus, the south wind, and Vulturnus, the east wind. Their greek counterparts are Boreas, Zephyrus, Notus and Eurus respectively. I brought this up because of the Knights of Favonius. 

Another of the four winds gods appear in Genshin, although this time with a Greek name. Andrius, the Wolf of the North, is also known as Lupus Boreas. Lupus is the Latin term for wolf while Boreas, as stated above, is the Greek god of the north wind. In conclusion, the name Lupus Boreas itself more or less means Wolf of the North. 

Morax

Morax in demonology is one of the presidents of hell, ruling thirty legions of demons. His name seems to come from Latin 'morax', that delays, that stops. He is the 21st demon in The Lesser Key of Solomon.

So far, similarly to Barbatos, the only thing that has anything to do with Genshin is his name, mostly because rock is the most likely to be able to endure time.

Morax appears as a great bull with the face of a man, which is interesting in a Chinese context, as Liyue is based on Ancient China. In the Chinese zodiac, an ox has a fixed element, which is earth. The Chinese zodiac sign Ox is disciplined and orderly in his or her thoughts and actions. They are known for the strength of body, mind, and character, and tend to be very conservative. They do well in business, not because of ingenious inventions or clever self-promotion, but by hard work and long hours. Sometimes considered old-fashioned, Chinese Oxen are well-known for their moral fiber. They live by a code that may no longer be popular, but they have a clear sense of what is right and wrong. While others may see them as slow and plodding, inside, they are romantics who want to look at the world as it once was (or at least how they know it was).

This makes the ox a very fitting animal for the Morax we know in Genshin.

Furthermore, another belief for his name is the Egyptian goddess Maat, the goddess of truth, balance, order, harmony, law, morality, and justice. This makes it fitting for the Morax in Genshin in my opinion.

Alright, back to demonology, Morax teaches Astronomy and all other liberal sciences, and gives good and wise familiars that know the virtues of all herbs and precious stones. The precious stones part is fitting for the Morax in Genshin but also the fact that Morax in demonology likes to teach, just like the Morax in Genshin.

Morax descends upon Liyue as a dragon. Dragons in East Asian mythology is commonly associated with good luck, propitiousness, power, and nobleness. In ancient times, only emperors were allowed to use a dragon as a symbol. This is probably used to further reaffirm Morax’s position as the highest of the adepti. The colours used in Morax’s dragon form are simple, brown for the earth and gold for the gold that flows in his veins. Even if he did not create Mora, it is typically said that immortals bleed gold, which is commonly known as ichor.

“The Dragon is believed by the Chinese to present power and valiancy, excellence and determination, dignity and divinity. A dragon is believed to have the powers to overcome obstacles to see success. He is spirited, confident, enthusiastic, intelligent and determined.”

As a mortal, Morax takes the name ‘Zhongli’. Chinese names are a bit more difficult to decipher, compared to Latin names since they depend more of the characters used to make up the name as compared to just the sound of the name. Different characters in Chinese could make the exact same sound but mean very different things. Zhongli’s name in Chinese characters is 钟离, the Zhong in his name means clock while the Li in his name means leave. A interpretation of his name would be off the clock, symbolising his retirement. 

His name is likely from a figure in Chinese mythology, 锺离权, Zhongli Quan, one of  the Baxian, the Eight Immortals of Daoism. Zhongli Quan is also sometimes known as , 汉锺离, Han Zhongli because he is said to have lived during the Han dynasty. In legend, he wields a large fan which can resurrect the dead and transform stones into silver or gold. The Zhong in his name is actually the same Zhong used in Genshin’s Zhong but in traditional Chinese as opposed to the simplified Chinese used in Genshin. 

Baal

Baal in demonology is a Duke of Hell, with 66 legions of demons under his command. His name comes from a Canaan and Mesopotamian god, specifically the god of fertility and storms. The Semitic word Baal means lord or master, and the ancient people believed he was in charge of all of nature and humans. He is the 1st demon in The Lesser Key of Solomon.

Baal in Genshin forms herself as a ruler or lord and master of Inazuma. Unlike Barbatos, who is mostly absent or Morax, who descends once a year, Baal seems to be a god that rules with an iron fist, appropriate for someone whose name means lord or master.

Baal in Genshin claims that her ideal is "nearest unto Heaven," calls her body the "noblest and most eminent of all in this world," and sees her reign as eternal which is again, fitting for someone whose name means lord and master.

Baal in demonology is also commonly associated with Satan or at least as his primary assistant. The arrogance shown in Baal in Genshin is therefore fitting, given that Satan was once Lucifer, the most perfect of angels before he rebelled against God and fell to heaven. He too believed that his ideal was the nearest unto Heaven and that his body is the noblest and most eminent of all in this world. Another interesting factor is that Baal in Genshin believes that humans are not deserving of visions, similar to Satan’s reason for his rebellion against God, for he believed that humans did not deserve God’s love or protection.

Baal as a god was believed to be the "giver of life" and mankind was dependent upon him for providing what was necessary to sustain the farms, flocks and herds. Baal was the god of fertility and storms, it is fitting as storms meant lighting and therefore electricity. In Ugaritic and Hebrew, Baal’s epithet as the storm god was He Who Rides on the Clouds.

The question on how a powerful ruling god, similar to Zeus in Greek mythology, became known as a demon is fairly simple.

“According to the Old Testament, after the Israelites wandered in the desert for 40 years, they arrived in the fruitful land of Canaan where the prime deity was Baal. Before they entered the Promised Land, the Hebrew people were warned not to worship the pagan gods of Canaan. However, after wandering in the desert for all that time, they weren’t quite sure that their god was the right choice since the Canaanites were living it up on the fertile soil. Many split their allegiance and decided to worship both their god and Baal.”

Many pagan gods were demonised by the Abrahamic religions as the Abrahamic religions did not allow worship of gods that weren't their God. They called it idolatry and deemed it a sin.

Baal’s primary prophet was Jezebel, if you are not familiar with the Abrahamic religions, she is symbolically associated with false prophets. The original Jezebel instituted the worship of Baal and Asherah on a national scale and violently purged the prophets of Yahweh from Israel. Through the centuries, the name Jezebel came to be associated with false prophets. By the early 20th century, it was also associated with fallen or abandoned women. In Christian lore, a comparison to Jezebel suggested that a person was a pagan or an apostate masquerading as a servant of God. By manipulation and seduction, she misled the saints of God into sins of idolatry and sexual immorality. In particular, Christians associated Jezebel with promiscuity. The cosmetics which Jezebel applied before her death also led some Christians to associate makeup with vice.

Personally, given that the records of Jezebel are mostly from Abrahamic religions, I would advise that it be taken with a spoonful of salt. I mentioned Jezebel because she was said to have violently purged the prophets of Yahweh from Israel, similar to how Baal in Genshin purged the vision holders in Inazuma.

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Sherlock ask: who is the bigger monster: Moriarty, Magnusen, or Eurus?

Oh, Mycroft. Okay, okay, I'm just kidding. No I'm not. It's Mycroft Holmes.

If you'd like me to choose between the three you listed, I can do that. I'd have to go with Magnussen. He's actually my favorite villain in the whole series. He's such a unique, different flavor to characters like Moriarty. The predatory behavior, all of the disguting little touched like peeing in the fireplace and licking Lady Smallwood. Lars Mikkelson is outstanding, and even though Magnussen doesn't cause the degree of damage than someone like Eurus, but he's easily the most unlikeable. And by far, I believe Sherlock's hatred for him, more than I do Moriarty. All of the twists and turns with this guy, right up to the shocking and yet surprisingly simple solution (that was not intentional alliteration) for how to beat him, just...he's despicable, and I love it. Never seen a villain quite like him before or since.

But Mycroft. My god.

Listen, I love this guy as a character. I do. He's believable, he's interesting, all of his various quirks and habits and mannerisms all come together to form a three-dimensional person who makes total sense as Sherlock's older brother, and hats off to Mark Gatiss because I don't think Mycroft would be quite the same without that portrayal. But that's all in appreciation of him as a character who fits into the story. But as a person? In-universe? My god, if I were Sherlock, I would have moved to another country long ago, just to get away from him.

I don't think I've ever met a character who was this controlling, where the other characters just kind of accepted it. The degree to which Mycroft considers himself in charge of Sherlock/responsible for him is already a bit iffy, but he has the means to exact that level of influence and control over Sherlock's life, and Sherlock and the others just take it as a part of their day to day lives. They don't like it, but they just treat it as inevitable and no big deal. Which is just...rather disturbing. While it's not the kind of thing you'd really notice on a first viewing, or at least I didn't...it gets insufferable on re-watches.

Sherlock claims that he "is" the British Government and while that may not be true, the other people in power appear to keep him on a very loose leash and let him do whatever he wants. Like get John's attention with over-the-top theatrics like hacking local phone booths, and then basically kidnap him - neglecting to mention that he's a government agent, and threatening John in the most pompous way possible. He tries to bribe John into spying on Sherlock, but I don't know why he even needs that, as in that same episode we find out he has tons of surveillance on them. I'm not an expert on privacy laws in the U.K, but the intentional focus on his own brother makes it feel like Mycroft isn't doing his job, and the whole thing feels very creepy. Imagine if he did something like that to say, an ex-wife? Yeah, see what I mean? I know Sherlock is a loose cannon sometimes, but he's also an adult and Mycroft is not his brother's keeper.

Let's talk about The Irene Adler incident. I've got a lot of strong feelings about what this show did with her character, but that's neither here nor there. Mycroft sends government agents to abduct Sherlock, to bring him to Buckingham Palace. Once there, he tries to pressure Sherlock into taking on a client while refusing to say anything about who they are, despite Sherlock making it clear that he's not comfortable with that. Doing that whole "classified" nonsense even though he's literally trying to force Sherlock to be involved in the situation. Sherlock refuses the terms, and to prevent him from leaving, Mycroft steps on his bedsheet, nearly forcing him into a state of nudity. He refuses to take his foot off the bedsheet. And - get this: Throughout all of this, Mycroft is insisting that Sherlock is the one acting childish. My god, dude. It doesn't matter if this is a matter of "national security" as you keep saying. Guess what: Sherlock is not one of your tools or your underlings. He's his own person who is perfectly entitled to take whatever cases he wants, and to have his own dealbreakers. You literally had to kidnap him, and you were expecting a "yes?" (Though Sherlock does say yes eventually.)

Mycroft also knew damn well that he was sending Sherlock into danger, as well as John. Mrs. Hudson later admonishes him for this, and he's not the least bit sorry. The episode skates over this bit, but I don't think it's talked about enough. Sherlock and John could have died. Mycroft knew this and did not tell them about the level of danger. And after all of that, he has the nerve to tell Sherlock that the Irene Adler situation is "no longer his concern." No, no, no. Sorry, but no. You kidnapped him and pressured him into taking this case with no information, it could have got him killed, and now you want to tell him that he's "off the case?" When you know full well what Sherlock is like? I said it before but I'll say it again. Sherlock doesn't work for you, Mycroft. You are not his boss. This comes up again later in His Last Vow, with Magnussen. Mycroft genuinely seems to think of Sherlock as a freelance government agent.

We're still not done talking about the Adler situation, by the way. Because later on in the episode, Irene manipulates Sherlock into deciphering the code and ruining the Airline Plan. Setting aside that I don't believe for one second that Sherlock, an aromantic character, would have fallen for this because he was #DistractedByTheSexy...this ultimately leads to Mycroft once again kidnapping Sherlock and bringing him to an aircraft (Where he now has the man who assaulted Mrs. Hudson in his employ. Are you fucking kidding me, Mycroft?) and all so he can just yell at Sherlock for screwing up his big complicated plan? He actually does abduct Sherlock and bring him all the way there just to dress him down for the security leak. Oh Mycroft, you must be so confused, because once again, Sherlock doesn't work for you. He's not a government agent at all. Mycroft does admit to blame for some of this, but he does so in the narcissistic "It's my fault for putting you in a situation you clearly couldn't handle, you were my responsibility and I overestimated you" type of situation. I swear to god.

Let's fast forward to The Reichenbach Fall. Something that I will say in Mycroft's defense is that the events of this episode are...unclear, largely because of The Empty Hearse. During one of the many recounts of how Sherlock might have faked his death, he claims that he and Mycroft were in on this from the beginning, though Anderson quickly points out all of the holes in this story. So maybe it wasn't really true, or maybe it was. But considering how quick Mycroft is to throw his family under the bus in other situations involving Moriarty (We're getting to Eurus, just hold on.) I'd have to say that most unfortunately, it would be very in character for Mycroft to have done what he did. The punchline here is that he leaked private information about Sherlock to Moriarty of all people, and it's not like he didn't know about the rivalry between the two of them by this point. Even if he didn't, what the hell, Mycroft? He lets his personal life interfere with his job, and he tries to bring his job home and force his family to be a part of it (mainly Sherlock.) Everything that happens in The Reichenbach Fall is arguably on him.

But everything that happens in The Final Problem is objectively, inarguably on him, and the episode even says as much. We can all feel how we want to about Eurus and her inclusion in the show. A lot of fans feel like her existence is the show jumping the shark, but whether it is or it isn't, doesn't change how these events came to be in-universe. Supposedly it was Sherlock's Uncle Rudy who started this process, of lying to Mr. and Mrs. Holmes about their own daughter, letting them believe she was dead, when in reality she - as a child - was thrown into a prison. It's not a mental hospital because she receives to treatment, in fact people are forbidden from talking to her because she's just "too dangerous" which I think we can assume is a skillset she developed overtime as a result of not being allowed to talk to anyone. She learned to manipulate people to make the most of conversations when she had them. It's not clear when Mycroft was put into control of this situation, but he chose to continue his sister's imprisonment. Y'know, I've been waiting for a moment to talk about how he reminds me of Albus Dumbledore, and I just realized how appropriate a parallel it is.

Wait, I've just remembered something else. Put a pin in Eurus for a second. In general, Mycroft also has a habit of searching Sherlock's belongings and 221B Baker Street, and you know he doesn't have a warrant for that. The worst thing is that John often goes along with it or asks him to come. Like...look, I know in His Last Vow, John was worried for Sherlock's safety because he was using again. But what does Mycroft do? Makes snide comments about Sherlock being "back on the sauce" and says that as a celebrity, Sherlock simply "can't afford" a drug habit. So to be clear, he's not really worried about Sherlock's health, or at least he doesn't convey as much. He thinks it's down to him to decide what Sherlock can and cannot afford, even though Sherlock's made it abundantly clear that he doesn't care what the press thinks about him. Oh, and he invited Anderson of all people into Sherlock's place to search it, "for your own good." No, no, no, no. All kinds of no. Why don't you just bring Donavan while you're at it?

On top of that, he then turns around and threatens the "fan club" with absolutely no provocation, threatens to hack their laptops and have them falsely arrested. And then he jokes about doing the same thing to John. Right in front of Sherlock. One instance of him trying to tell Sherlock who he can and cannot take cases about, and then Sherlock shoves him into the wall, in a very satisfying moment. If he only knew just how much Mycroft deserved that. If he only knew that his ability to process trauma and his memories of childhood, his very concept of family and likely his ability to make friendships, were all negatively affected by Mycroft's meddling. It's finally time: Let's talk about Eurus.

Okay, I'm not saying she's innocent. She's a murderer. But she is the way she is because of decisions that were made on her behalf when she was a child who needed help and care and rehabilitation. Mycroft says that Sherlock turned out the way he is because of his experiences with Eurus, but that was his fault! As was her fate. Eurus spends her life in solitary confinement, and Mycroft specifically forbids anyone from treating her or even talking to her. This is actual torture. Like, it is the textbook definition of torture. Mycroft takes it upon himself to decide that his sister is a lost cause and cannot be saved, he doesn't tell Sherlock or their parents that she's alive. But the one time that he does let her have human contact? Holy hell. His motivations, first of all, are selfish. I know, I know, preventing terrorist attacks is noble and whatever, but all I'm seeing is Mycroft once again forcing his family members to be tools in his job, against their will. Not only that, but who does Mycroft let Eurus see? Her parents, her brother? A doctor? No, let's go with...wait, I've got it! Moriarty.

This is what I mean when I say that I don't believe Mycroft telling Moriarty about Sherlock's life in Season 2 was a deception. Because it's the kind of thing he would do. Not only is this a betrayal to...oh, so many different people. Chief among them Sherlock, but also the security of the United Kingdom which Mycroft claims to love so much. Yeah, not only that, but...the lapse in common sense. This is peak dumbass. This is some next level stupid right here. Mycroft actually agreed to let Eurus have five minutes alone with Moriarty. I don't care if the episode calls him out for it and he acknowledges it was a mistake. Dude, you should have known that! Everyone who Eurus harmed and killed is a direct result of Mycroft's failure to handle her situation when it was not for him to decide in the first place. This was not his call, but he took upon himself to prevent their parents from finding out, and handled things for them. At the end of it all, when they ask when they can see her, Mycroft has the nerve to say, "There's no point." As if they care at this point whether or not he thinks it's a good idea. As if they were asking his permission. As if anything is going to stop them. As if they're not being remarkably calm under the circumstances.

Mycroft just has a serious problem with not only controlling his family, (he literally used trigger words to "monitor" Sherlock's trauma throughout his childhood, which...yeah, all kinds of fuck that) but he also has an obsession with asserting himself as the cleverest one. How telling is it that the one person in his family whom he admits to being smarter than him is the one he threw in a cell? But he's also quite comfortable in having oh so subtly bullied Sherlock for years for not being "as" clever as Mycroft, which...I mean, you say that, dude, but we never see you doing anything close to the deductions that Sherlock does. But all sorts of lines, like the ones he has during that game of Operation in The Empty Hearse, indicate this. I don't know if Mycroft is insecure or if he just feels comfortable with Sherlock being his inferior and he doesn't know how to imagine him otherwise, so he goes to great lengths to ensure that Sherlock also sees it that way. Few things are as cathartic as Sherlock's mother saying that Sherlock was always the grown-up, and just seeing those words go through Mycroft like a sliver of ice. Good. About time someone said it.

By no means am I saying that Sherlock himself is perfect, or that anyone in this show is. (Except Greg, he is flawless, no I don't take constructive criticism) If I were Sherlock, I would seriously want to get a restraining order against this creep. And the fact that it probably wouldn't even work thanks to his various connections is exactly the reason I'd want it in the first place.

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

I can see us Lost in the Memory

Summary: Caring is not an advantage. To Mycroft, this was a belief he found through the calculated logic that ruled his life. If was analytical and detached and certainly had nothing to do with Sherlock or the childhood neighbor.

Love You to the Moon and to Saturn

A/N: In a break from my regularly scheduled SVU writing, here’s a four part Folklore inspired Mycroft Holmes thing.

Salt air, and the rust on your door I never needed anything more Whispers of "Are you sure?" "Never have I ever before"

When the Holmes parents invited Ruth on their vacation to start the summer, she couldn’t resist the chance. Her mom would be busy, and the family would be staying on a beach in a little house for a week. You’re just so good with both my boys Mrs. Holmes had said with a soft smile as she pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Since Christmas, she’d had late night phone calls with Mycroft regularly, sneaking the handset for the phone to her room and staying up to happily listen to the minutiae of his day and tell him about her own. To help calm his worries, she took to dropping by to visit Sherlock. But this trip in May would be their first time together save a stolen weekend after midterms where she’d made it to Oxford.

When she arrived at their usual home, not the country house she was so used to, Sherlock darted out, wrapping around her as she laughed. He was almost not a little boy anymore, though she was certain he’d find something broken that they’d try to rebuild together.  She could see Mycroft’s frame in the doorway, and her breath caught. He’d only gotten stuffier since going to Oxford, always in a suit. It worked for him or she’d have teased him mercilessly for it. There was also the fact that she was simply overjoyed to see him. 

“Missed you,” she said softly, looking up at him as Sherlock watched them suspiciously before going back into the house.

“And I missed you, Ruth.”

“Mummy, I think Mycroft and Ruth are going to start snogging.” The youngest Holmes ran to the kitchen, and Ruth flushed a deep pink and giggled as the very tips of Mycroft’s ears changed color.

“Do you care if she knows?” Ruth asked, and Mycroft was acutely aware of the power he had to hurt Ruth in that moment. He would never dream of it, but this would potentially be over in three years, at which point hurting her would be inevitable. But still he held out hope he could balance both.

“Not at all,” he said softly, the same dignified air he always carried. But instead of staying away as he led her in, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips before placing a hand on the small of her back and leading her into the house. His mother and father had the kindness to leave them be, and the drive went smoothly. When Sherlock became antsy, Ruth watched as Mycroft told him about people he’d encountered at university, problems in the dorms. It was a game the pair had always played when Sherlock had to be kept still too long. The younger Holmes would tell Mycroft how obvious it was his roommate's girlfriend had been eating all the food from the common area, and Mycroft would pretend he hadn’t figured it out with the same reasoning.

“Ruth, come here,” Mrs. Holmes had said, calling her to the kitchen as she left the boys to unload bags from the car. “Are you dating my son?”

“I love him very much.”

“The boys are in the last room on the left. You’ll be the first on the right. Behave yourselves, allright?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The evening found them watching Sherlock as Mr. and Mrs. Holmes went to dinner, and since Christmas, he’d discovered documentaries again, sprawling on the couch to watch one on pirates. It was good to see some things didn’t change. What had changed was that Mycroft was willing to give him a little more space. They cooked dinner together, and Ruth was rewarded with soft brushes of his hand over her back as he passed. She suspected he’d always be himself, not one for casual affection when someone could see. But when his brother was tucked into bed, there were soft kisses that grew more desperate and whispered confirmation they were both sure. She stole the Oxford sweatshirt from his bag after, determined not to let his mother find them anything but decent but wanting to keep everything on her as some extension of him.

“I don’t know why they got you a sweatshirt anyway,” she teased lightly, watching him smoke in the dark. “I’ve never seen you in a shirt without a collar.”

“I suppose mummy thought I might wear it to sleep. I don’t think she expected it to be worn by someone else during a post-coital cigarette.” He wore cotton pajama pants and a plain t-shirt, though she expected he had sets with collared shirts for when he was at school. The wind blew in from the water, and she wished she’d grabbed pants instead of letting the crewneck serve as a dress. He noticed her shiver, holding out an arm as he exhaled smoke. She pressed against his side and his arm wrapped around her. 

“Just someone?” she teased. “You know, I think I might be your girlfriend.”

“How is that any different than we’ve always been?”

“It means we build a future together. Don’t date other people. Communicate regularly.”

“I suppose you are my girlfriend,” he said, though she could tell he didn’t particularly care for the word. 

“So you think about a future with me?”

“Constantly,” he admitted, choosing to omit how much of that was grappling with the danger Rudy’s position could put her in when he took over. That he’d have to eventually tell her about Eurus. But he was young and selfish and certain he could separate it.

Your back beneath the sun Wishin' I could write my name on it Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinkin' I had you

Ruth had never been able to get Mycroft to the beach in anything but a polo shirt, but it seemed the way the last of his baby fat had melted off at university meant he was willing to join his brother and Ruth in the water. He still wore a polo shirt and boat shoes with his swim shorts, but he slipped both off and followed when Sherlock beckoned he and Ruth to join him in finding the sandbar. He almost said no until he saw how giddy Ruth looked as she peeled the other unworn bit of Oxford merchandise he’d acquired: a t-shirt that would have fit had he not lost weight. He liked seeing it on Ruth; it made him realize he was getting territorial.

“C’mon,” Sherlock called to them from the water’s edge. 

“We’re coming, Sherlock,” Mycroft scolded gently. “You must wait so we can be sure the tide doesn’t whisk you away.”

“Don’t scare him,” Ruth said, swatting his arm before she hurried and ruffled his brother’s hair. “We’ll find the sandbar, but then Mycroft and I are going to come back to land. I think you ought to see how big of a sandcastle you can make. Maybe even big enough you can hide in it.”

“Do you think there are artifacts in the sand, Ruth?”

“Probably not ones we’ll want to keep. But maybe bottles or keys.” The tide was low enough when they waded to the sandbar that Ruth and Mycroft could sit on it and watch as Sherlock ran along. He could dig as well, finding shells and loading them into the pockets of his swim shorts.

“Why must we be in this wet sand instead of on the towels on land?” Mycroft huffed, and Ruth poked his side.

“Your brother missed you. He likes you being close, even if you aren’t a part of his excavation. He’ll want to build soon, and since shells aren’t restorable like a trowel, he’ll go back to land for a sandcastle.”

“He only yells when I call him.”

“And what does he yell about?” Ruth had heard Sherlock during one of these calls. One of the calls where Sherlock yelled at Mycroft for leaving. But this would pass. She always promised Mycroft that it would pass, and Sherlock would understand his big brother would always come home. 

“Don’t look so proud,” Mycroft huffed.

“It’s not often I’m the one who’s right.”

“You’re often right when it comes to feelings.”

“I love you. My big brained robot.”

“I love you, my darling.”

“That sounds way more romantic than big brained robot. But god, I like hearing you say it. I know it isn’t easy for you.”

“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.” He had a glint in his eye as he looked down at her, and she smiled broadly up at him, delight apparent.

“You read Jane Austen?”

“Everyone does.”

“You only store things you want, Mycroft.”

“When I read it, I thought of you. I was fifteen. I was a fool and didn’t process what that meant for another year. But whenever I read a poem or a novel and they talk about ardent love, your face is my first thought. I wish I were someone who spoke so eloquently of his own feelings. But I do not understand why I love you. It honestly perplexes me. You are wild and hard headed and love the most mindless things. But I would gladly listen to you describe popular music or the intricacies of a flower crown for hours because of the way your smile and laugh sound more melodic than any symphony. What is unbearable in others only serves to make affection blossom when it is in you. Perhaps it’s because I feel I understand you like I can’t understand most, and I feel that you see me not just as some big brained robot but as who I am. And I am grateful for that, even if it perplexes me to no end.”

 “God, you really can be sappy,” she said, tearing up as she wrapped around his middle. Without his parents or peers there, he was more comfortable to stay sitting as perfectly upright as ever, but slip an arm around Ruth and press a lingering kiss to the top of her head. “You’ll keep calling when you go back to school, right?”

“I will. And we’ll figure how to see each other. I know it hasn’t been easy. Uncle Rudy has so much for me to do on top of my course work.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Mycroft. It’s four to six years we have to get through. We can do that.”

“Have you thought about university?”

“Cambridge or Oxford. The latter, while a delightful institution, is due to a bias for a certain student.”

“What do you want to study?”

“I think I’d be a good teacher. Kids Sherlock’s age.”

“You’ve always done well keeping him engaged. That’s a feat in and of itself. But, I always expected that you’d pursue English. Write.”

“I need a job.”

“Writing is a job. You could work in editing too. But, you write so beautifully. And it makes you so happy. I’m certain you would flourish. It may be harder, but you’re intelligent enough to parallel plan and work until you’re published.”

“You really think so?”

“I know. And I’m always right.”

“Cambridge is about as far as London from you. Or maybe I’ll go to Oxford.”

“I just want you to select the institution you wish to learn from. I’m sure we can find a halfway point. If not, we can alternate visiting each other.”

“You wouldn’t feel weird if I showed up in your daily life?”

“You’re a part of my daily life. It would be a perpetual summer. Who wouldn’t wish for that?”

“We’ve just only ever had the summer.”

“There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there? I suspect you’ll tire of me when you realize I’m relaxed in the summers.”

“I imagine you wear suits everyday. And your socks, tie, and pocket square all match.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling. I don’t wear a tie every day.”

“Oh, there are pictures of  Mycroft in a suit with no tie. Is the top button undone? This is simply scandalous.”

She stretched herself up to kiss him, no hesitation now and fingers brushing through auburn hair. Only the screeched order to Stop being so gross from Sherlock convinced them to pull apart, and Ruth was quite sure he was grinning down at her.

Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all

“Are we going to have to chase the two of you from each other's rooms all summer?”

“Mummy, she is my girlfriend. Is it the worst thing if I sleep beside her?”

“You’ll do more than sleep.”

“Yes, Violet, because a bed is the only place teenagers will shag. Never a field or a car or the storeroom at their job. They’re good kids. Leave them be.”

“Siger, this is the third time in a week! Do you want to deal with her mother when we return? She’ll be chasing our boy from her house night after night.”

“Since when does Ruth sleep in her own home? She’s in our guest room most nights. We can feign propriety if it is of such importance and say ‘Oh! I didn’t know he’d snuck into her room’ if for whatever reason Debora learns.”

Ruth was by Mycroft’s side, cheeks pink as she watched his parents. They’d tried to be careful, but she never woke up in time to hurry to her own room. She wanted to tell them her own mother wouldn’t notice anyway, so she should be able to climb into bed with Mycroft. They were talking about flats at Oxford, little ones they would stuff full of books and she’d ensure were always stocked with flowers. She’d made up her mind she’d go there. Mycroft was ready to tell Rudy he was in love, and it didn’t matter what the job entailed; Mycroft could balance it if it meant he’d have Ruth. For once, he was hopeful.

“Both of you, listen to me,” he said firmly, arm around Ruth. “Where do you think she stayed when she visited me at Oxford? This began at Christmas, so I hardly believe it to be a phase. I love her, and upon her graduation, we intend to get a flat near the university. Accept it now, or accept it later. It does not matter to me. This is the reality.”

“You’re following him to Oxford?” Violet seemed to be appraising her now. 

“Yes.”

“You really do love him?”

“Yes.”

“Just don’t make me a grandmother any time soon,” she said finally, obviously acquiescing as her husband followed her to the kitchen again with quiet assurances they’d be fine. Ruth’s cheeks were pink, but she wrapped around Mycroft and kissed him.

“What is that for?”

“You professed your love for me to your parents? You finally put your foot down over something and it's me?”

“I wish to maximize every moment I have you by my side between now and August.”

“I’ll miss you so much.”

“We’ll sort it out. Two terms. Then you’ll follow me to Oxford.” 

“Ruth will leave too?” The soft voice of Sherlock came from the hall, and she pulled away from Mycroft to kneel by him. 

“It’ll be just like the end of summer,” she promised. “It was harder with your brother because he lives with you. But, you usually only see me in the summer, and I’ll still be here for every summer. Who else will help me excavate the garden?”

“Why does everyone go to Oxford?”

“They don’t. But lots of people go to uni, and you will too one day. You’ll get a degree to be a detective or an archaeologist or marine biologist.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“It’s a whole year away. You’ll be a teenager.”

“I guess that’s an okay time for you to go to Oxford.” He bent to look around her to his brother. “You could do well to learn from her, Mycroft.”

“You need to stop being so rude. He’s getting a degree so he can afford to keep you out of trouble forever and ever, kiddo.”

“I’m never in trouble.” 

“Mhm. Never, ever have I scooped you up before mummy could catch you performing experiments.”

“Shh!”

Ruth simply laughed, moving to stand again, Sherlock’s gaze again fluctuating between bored and curious about the world around him as she moved to sit in the arm chair beside the one Mycroft had settled into with his book. She opened her own, feet tucked under her, reaching towards him and resting her hand on the small table between them. He looked at it before resting his hand in hers.

“I like this,” she said softly. He made a noise of agreement, legs crossed. “I could get used to it.”

“We’ve a whole summer ahead, dear.”

That night found them tangled in bedsheets, not bothering to pretend he was going to be sleeping in the room with Sherlock. He rather liked sleeping by her, and he was grateful she was so content to lay against his side, close enough it was intimate and safe, but not requiring their bodies to be tangled. But she did like to play with his hands, especially in the afterglow. She would trace the lines of his palms or the veins on the back of his hand, watching her own actions in the moonlight. He stopped her tonight, letting his fingers slip between hers. She smile down at him, her hair a curtain as she leaned to press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Get some sleep, Ruth.”

“Does anyone ever take care of you, Mycroft?”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.”

“Everyone does. And I’m going to from here on out, okay?”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.”

“How often do you sit in the sun and read for pleasure at Oxford?”

“There isn’t time.”

“I’ll make sure there is when I’m there. You need to give yourself breaks.” He didn’t agree, but instead of arguing, he pulled her to his side, deciding he could tangle himself with her awhile, savoring the closeness. 

“You are too gentle for this world, darling. Please never change.”