#just thinking about how much Henry hates doctors and how that showed through possessed Will

[willel]

But my mother somehow knew. Knew it was I who was holding up that mirror. She despised me for it. She called a doctor. An "expert". She wanted him to lock me away. To "fix" me.

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of July. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love.

Happy reading!

1) Your Good Time | Explicit | 3070 words

Louis nodded along with what the guy was saying, apparently his arousal taking over his brain to mouth filter as he said, “Who would want to hide a fit bloke like you? That guys an idiot.” Louis scoffed, dramatizing the word ‘idiot’, giving the guy a sly smirk. The guy leaned an arm against the bar, turned his body to Louis and fixed him with a curious look before he held out a hand.

“M’Harry.”

Louis and Harry meet in a bar when Harry's date is an ass. Inspired by Temporary Fix by One Direction.

2) I Push You To The Limits | Explicit | 3846 words

Louis is a brat who likes seeing his boyfriend get jealous and possessive over him.

3) Overkill | Explicit | 4354 words

Louis was never going to get over how fucking attractive Harry was. How glorious his big, tall, curvy body was. The feeling of Harry behind him, hot and heavy, trapped on the tube after they’d been somewhere during rush hour. His thick hands, full of pretty rings sometimes, handing Louis a cup of coffee, then getting one for himself.

4) Too Nervous to be Lovers | Mature | 6445 words

Louis doesn't want to spend quarantine with Harry, his straight roommate, who doesn't even acknowledge his existence.

5) Fratboy In Love | Mature | 6830 words

Harry Styles was a frat boy who loved to sleep around and flirt with boys and girls. Louis was a good uni student who loved to stay in and study and wasn't much of a partier.

Insert his best friend Niall who talks him into going. Louis gets drunk and ends up sleeping with harry. The next day he leaves before Harry wakes and tries to avoid him at all costs. Thinking Harry wouldn't care since Louis was just another conquest. But what if Harry did care. And actually have a crush on Louis. Read and find out

6) My Sunflower | Mature | 7057 words

Louis would rather be sunbathing at the beach with his friends, not slaving his spring break away in his father’s flower shop.

7) Waiting | Explicit | 8023 words

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

8) Shine Light Upon Your Ground | Explicit | 8506 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/H, which the reader can picture as Harry or Henry Cavill.

Louis sighs again and fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist, twisting the charms around and petting the fake diamonds.

“How much for a night?” A deep voice suddenly asks him. The man who approaches him is already pulling out his wallet and flicking through a bundle of bills. Louis, who had been sitting at the bar completely innocent and minding his own business, lets out an offended, strangled sound.

“Excuse me?” He demands, straightening up in his seat. The hem of his dress creeps further up his thigh but he pays it no mind.

9) Glistening Under The Sun (You're My Honey Soaked Love) | Mature | 8996 words

“Oh Petal,” he picks her up nuzzling the top of her head with his cheek as she nibbles on the lavender, “How lucky are we? I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy, the only thing we have to be sad about is that soon I won’t be able to hold you like this,”

10) Connected To The Heart | Explicit | 9059 words

Note: This is an coda scene for this fic.

“Your stage cue is way too close for you to be wearing that look you’re wearing,” Louis informs him. He can’t stop himself from looking up at Harry through his eyelashes, the silk of Harry’s dress shirt brushing against the backs of his knuckles.

“Twenty minutes,” Harry agrees. His breath is minty from the gum he was chewing earlier, fresh and warm. “Twenty minutes can be a long time, baby.”

This time, Louis has to force himself to roll his eyes. “Not nearly long enough for the way you always want to fuck me.”

11) Fuck U Betta | Explicit | 11438 words

There’s something about having Louis like this, exposed and desperate, that makes a primal urge bubble up from deep inside Harry’s chest. Desire mixed with something else, something unquantifiable. It’s the thing that makes them want this, need this. Nothing else will satisfy them or quench their thirst.

OR the one where Harry likes the thrill of the chase, Louis likes to be chased, and everyone gets what they need… in the end.

12) Kiss Me In Your Chevrolet | Explicit | 11569 words

"Yes, Lou?" Harry asked, rubbing his tired eyes. A gust of wind came through the open windows, sending chills down Harry's arms as a light rain began falling outside. He closed his eyes again and let his head fall back to the couch arm rest.

"Can we go there?" Louis asked, probably pointing somewhere. Harry opened his eyes and felt his heart jump in his chest, a magazine page a couple of inches away from his face. Startled, Harry closed his eyes and breathed heavily, trying to collect himself.

Harry blinked a few times to focus his eyes on the page Louis still held in front of his nose. "You want to go to the Grand Canyon?" He furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head to the left to look at Louis' face.

13) Pull The Trigger | Explicit | 12007 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic, which is #16 on this list.

Louis has never been alright with killing. Will that change when he learns what it's like to be the one holding the gun?

14) Open All Night | Explicit | 12537 words

It’s six in the morning when Harry finally makes it back home.

Harry's a bartender, Louis' got a nice ass and a shit taste in men. They make it work.

15) Among Other Things | Explicit | 16073 words

“Harry, it’s 7:45, oh my god, my class starts at 8:15,” and Louis wants to cry. Harry’s busy under the bed trying to find the tiny silver key but Louis knows that fate just hates him and he needs to find a way to get up. “Harry, I—fuck,” Louis whines. Harry stands up in a rush.

“I can’t seem to find them. It. The key.”

Or, Louis’ the teacher of Harry Styles’ daughter. Their paths shouldn’t cross like this. This meaning Louis showing up to school handcuffed to a headboard.

16) A Bullet And It's Gun | Explicit | 18156 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #13 on this list. 

Louis’ parents arrange his marriage with Harry. He’s fully ready to accept that he’s going to be a sad and lonely person for the rest of his life. But then Harry starts proving himself as more than just an asocial man with money.

17) By Such Slight Ligaments | Explicit | 26764 words

Note: The fic pairing is Louis/Henry Cavill.

A late night visit to a patient sets off a series of events that will turn Louis' world upside down.

... Here there be monsters.

18) At Your Fingertips | Explicit | 27384 words

He finds himself wrapped up in sheets in bed on Thursday night, staring at the familiar name on a new story that was posted the night before.

His fingers twitch, ready to hit play and surrender to his impulses, saving the regret and turmoil for later.

And still he hesitates, internally praying that he’ll somehow gain the strength to exit out within the next few moments before he inevitably loses his patience and hits the button.

Three…

Two…

One.

Play.

19) Forgot My Roots Now Watch Me Bloom | Explicit | 28334 words

Lonely transit worker Louis pulls his longtime crush, Peter, from the path of an oncoming train. At the hospital, doctors report that he's in a coma, and a misplaced comment from Louis causes Peter's family to assume that he is his fiancée. When Louis doesn't correct them, they take him into their home and confidence. Things get even more complicated when he finds himself falling for Peter's brother, Harry. Loosely based on the movie "While You Were Sleeping".

20) Push You Out, Pull You Back In | Explicit | 31544 words

Harry hates feeling vulnerable. Louis is set on breaking through his tough facade.

21) Baby Blue | Explicit | 39439 words

Harry Styles takes his time coming out to greet them. Louis only knows what he’s seen on file and what he’s heard them talking about, but he fully lives up to the image he had inside of his head.

He saunters down the front steps of the farmhouse in his Levi’s, brown snakeskin boots curving out from underneath the denim Louis’ sure he had specially made. He’s got on a plaid button-down tucked into the jeans because of course he does, curls spilling out from either side of his cowboy hat around his sunglasses and country-tan skin.

“Harry Styles,” he drawls, extending a hand to Louis’ manager, “Pleased to meet ya’ll.”

22) Lidocaine And Palm Trees | Explicit | 44653 words

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

23) Sleeping On Our Problems | Explicit | 67369 words

Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

24) Truth Would Be | Explicit | 91869 words

“You want me? I’m not a… a thing to be owned!” Louis stuttered, still very angry and confused.

“Hmmm…” The alpha tapped his lips as if he was contemplating something. “Last time I checked, the debt was paid off and the only thing I had asked in return was… you. So technically I do own you.”

“You are crazy…” Louis muttered as he began to back towards the door. Harry’s impossibly green eyes turned a shade darker, but his tone was still teasing and light when he said, “Maybe I am…”

The I-paid-off-all-your-debt-so-you-are-mine AU in which Omega Louis wants to be left alone by Alpha Harry but it's super complicated when he starts to not hate the alpha all that much.

25) Collision | Not Rated | 224594 words

Note: This fic was finished in 2018, but two new epilogue chapters have been added.

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[god-shops-at-thot-topic]

Okay so I had a real wack idea and that is: Jekyll and Hyde but in Danny Phantom AU. Basically it would be like an episode where Dr. Henry Jekyll becomes a new teacher at Casper High and right after he arrives a new ghostly menace (Hyde) shows up to terrorize Amity Park. I’ll put more info under this if you’re interested in my ramblings. 

Okay so basically, when Henry Jekyll was in college he got in an accident that  involved a homemade/really shitty ghost portal that he and (Hastie? Robert? Maybe something else?) Lanyon built. Lanyon and him had a fight over it and after Lanyon leaves the room to calm down Jekyll says “fuck it yolo” and decides to start up the machine himself. It blows up in his face giving him a scar on his right cheek and turns him into a half ghost. His halfa form appears younger than Henry and seems to have a bit of a mind of its own (due to the shoddy construction of the ghost portal). He calls himself Hyde because his first instinct was “HIDE” when security, medical personnel, and other assorted people on campus run to the wrecked lab. The name Edward comes later mostly as a personal “Ooo I like that name” kinda thing (if anyone has a better idea for this please share because im a dummy and can’t think of anything). Jekyll comes back and since he has the scar on his face Lanyon thinks he caused the explosion on purpose and whoop there goes their friendship. They end up both getting the blame but it’s less of a “you tried to blow up the school” thing and more of a “you really fucked up on your experiment and must have really miscalculated” thing. The school has their families pay for most of the damages (which is a-okay because they both come from wealthy families) and it just ends up becoming sort of an on campus joke. 

Years go by and Hyde ends up getting more and more of his own personality. At first he was almost completely influenced by Jekyll but now it’s become more like Hyde is a separate ghost possessing Jekyll. This becomes a problem when, as Jekyll is working in his lab, Hyde decides he’s bored and takes over. Jekyll ends up developing a chemical to control the transformations (HJ7) and put him back in charge of the situation. It works for a while but then Henry starts seeming black out for times, and what he hears about his actions as he’s blacked out makes him realize that Hyde is taking control/possessing his human form (basically green eyed Jekyll type scenario). This freaks Henry out, so he decides he’s going to find professional help. Low and behold, Amity Park, the town where some of the most famous ghost hunters live in, has a job opening for a new chemistry teacher at the local high school. Jekyll easily gets the job and starts working immediately. 

Henry soon becomes the teacher everyone either totally loves or totally hates. He’s very passionate about chemistry but knows a lot about other scientific fields and will talk to students about their favorite studies. Because of his passion for chemistry though, he grades very harshly and does not tolerate disruptions such as talking during lectures and arriving tardy (without a good excuse). This is what causes the great divide on the students opinions of him. Everyone stands on one side or the other. Everyone except Danny Fenton. Danny is the child of scientists, the local ghost hunters Jack and Maddie Fenton, and is very passionate about astronomy and wants to work for NASA when he grows up. The problem is he’s always either missing, tardy to, or sleeping in class. He also doesn’t really seem to grasp the material. Dr. Jekyll is torn because he can tell that Danny loves science and he has had really great conversations with him about astronomy but he’s just upset at how Danny is in his class. He ends up deciding that he will take the boy under his wing and tutor him to help him pass. This will also get him closer to Danny’s parents who he thinks can help him with his Hyde problem. 

Danny goes after school for tutoring (surprisingly there were no rogue ghosts attacking today) and waits for Dr. Jekyll to show up. And waits. And waits. Then his ghost sense goes off and he just can’t wait anymore. Danny grabs his bag and runs into down the hall to the boys room where, with a quick “I’m going ghost!” he’s off to fight the ghostly menace of the day. When he spots the spirit, he sees this is one that he’s never fought before. He’s tall and quite lean with bluish skin, venomous green eyes, green hair pulled into a flaming ponytail, and a nasty scar across the right side of his face. The ghost takes notice that Danny’s there and a fight ensues. And then it ends when Danny gets yeeted through a wall and the ghost disappears. At least Danny was able to pick up that the new ghost’s name is Edward Hyde during the fight. He goes home to work on his homework go to sleep. He just crashes right into bed and sleeps till the next day. 

When he gets to school, Dr. Jekyll comes up to him and apologizes that he couldn’t make it to the tutoring session and that an emergency had come up that he had to attend to. Danny was like no biggie and continued on with the day. He talked with Sam and Tucker about this new ghost. They go over where he may have come from, if he’s working for Vlad, and all the other possibilities including that it could be that Dr. Jekyll may be a halfa like Danny and Vlad, but that got brushed off as wrong (”That ghost did not seem like the kind of guy who’d have a PHD. He’s a MR. Hyde at best, not a Dr. like Jekyll”). The school day ends and Danny’s off to learn the ways of chemistry. This time Dr. Jekyll is there and the lesson goes according to plan. At least right up until Danny’s lesson is about over. When the topic of talking to Danny’s parents about his tutoring (and the possibility of them helping out with Jekyll’s halfa problem) is brought up, all of a sudden a change comes over the good doctor. He starts saying nasty things and acting like real bitch. That’s when Danny notices that Dr. Jekyll’s eyes are a vibrant shade of green. Seeing this as a sign that Jekyll has been possessed (hopefully by that Edward Hyde ghost from yesterday, Danny wants a round two with him) Danny goes ghost (because it’s not like Dr. Jekyll will remember anyway he’s possessed. 

This freaks the shit out of Hyde because a. he thought he was the only halfa there was b. holy shit this little scrawny kid is that ghost that nearly kicked his ass yesterday c. he thinks he’s been found out and d. holy shit this little scrawny kid is that ghost that nearly kicked his ass yesterday. Since he’s so freaked out, he slips a little and Jekyll comes to for just long enough to be punched in the face by the kid he thought would be his favorite student. This “little” punch shakes up Jekyll but acts as a snap back to reality for Hyde who makes them go ghost. When Danny sees the rings go around Dr. Jekyll turning him into Edward Hyde, he realizes he fucked up. A fight ensues which ends with an agreement between the two (three???). Basically Danny will leave them alone and not tell his parents as long as a. Hyde doesn’t forcibly take over Jekyll and when he’s out he doesn’t cause problems and b. Jekyll doesn’t try to destroy Hyde.

(when Danny tells Sam and Tucker about all this Tucker yells “HAH! I told you!”)

I think Hyde still gets up to mischief but he’s not a real villain just more of a pest. The real villain is Jekyll who goes to Vlad Masters for a side job (cause teaching don’t pay nearly enough as it should) where he ends up helping to develop ghost weapons. I’d actually see him being able to get close enough to Vlad that he learns a lot of his little secrets, just not the one about Vlad being a halfa. (I think Jekyll might be brought in to help with cloning Danny.)

And that’s pretty much all I got. I might make a fic if anyone wants it but there’s no real guarantee on the quality since I haven’t taken a creative writing class in over 4 years.

[melodiouswhite]

Memories of Suffering

(A/N: This is a fic about my Jekyll’s terrible childhood, so trigger warnings: tw: horrific child abuse, tw: terrible parenting, tw: blood, tw: graphic depiction of violence. I’m serious, if you’re a minor and/or this triggers something for you, then don’t read it, because this one is really dark.)

Jekyll feared the worst, when he came to his therapy session and saw Lady Summers' grave expression.

“Don't worry, nothing bad happened”, she assured him. “Nevertheless, we need to talk about something extremely unpleasant today.”

He sighed: “What part in the story of my life will it be today?”

“Your childhood, Doctor.”

Damn right that's extremely unpleasant!

Lady Summers sighed: “Doctor Jekyll, you knew that it was inevitable for me to bring it up sooner or later.”

“I know, I know. But … but it's so hard to even think about it.”

The Prussian's face was sad. “I know. And I understand. But if you talk about it and get it off your chest, it could help you get closure.”

He wanted to talk about it.

He didn't want to talk about it.

He wanted to pour his heart out to her.

He wanted to keep it in, ignore it and never think about it again.

She noticed his affliction and took his hand, gently stroking the palm with her thumb.

“It's alright. If you're not ready to talk about it right now, I'm giving you a few weeks. If you want Mr. Utterson and Dr. Lanyon to be there for support, I will let them know.”

“Thank you, Milady”, he replied warmly. “But … I think …”

“You want to do it now?”

He nodded.

“Are you sure?”, she queried.

Another nod.

“Dr. Jekyll, if you don't feel ready, you shouldn't push yourself to speak about it”, she warned.

He took a deep breath and shook his head.  “No. I want to get it over with. Get the worst parts about it off my chest.”

“Really? Are you certain that it won't be too painful now?”

He nodded again.

Lady Summers looked very doubtful (and rightfully so, he knew that), but she respected his decision.

“Alright”, she spoke. “Go on, then.”

Jekyll took a deep breath and began to talk.

Not good enough.

He was never good enough.

His character wasn't good enough.

His behaviour wasn't good enough.

His grades weren't good enough.

His art wasn't good enough.

His piano play, dancing and singing weren't good enough.

His Latin wasn't good enough.

Nothing was good enough.

And if he wasn't good enough, he would be punished.

Even if he hadn't done anything wrong.

Wait, no.

He always did something wrong.

Why else would they hate him so?

This time it was because of a photograph.

His father was not pleased with how he had looked in it.

But just posing for the picture had been a torture for the seven-year-old.

He had tried to look as innocent as possible and pretend not to be in pain.

For a while, things had been surprisingly peaceful, until the photographer had shown them the developed daguerrotype.

His father was looking at the viewer like a poster picture gentleman, while his mother was looking down at her son with wide eyes and he himself was looking at the photographer with an earnestly innocent expression, trying to mask his pain.

James Jekyll had punished both his wife and son.

His wife for the nasty grimace that didn't look at all like a perfect wife and mother was supposed to look like.

His son for “not looking childish and innocent enough”. And for the shivering. He had shivered from fear and pain, because both of his parents had nearly squelched his shoulders.

But trembling wasn't allowed.

Half an hour later Henry's nanny was tending to his bloodied back, while he was crying and whimpering into the pillow.

His father never stopped beating him until his back bled.

“Monsters!”, the elderly woman hissed, “Someone should lock them away and throw away the key!”

But no one would dare to arrest his parents, because they were good and always right, no one would believe him.

For the next weeks he was unable to lie on his back.

Of course his father would slap his sore back, just to hurt him.

But that was fine, because it was normal and he deserved it anyway.

Henry tried not to scream, when his mother pulled him out from under his bed.

But it hurt so much and so he couldn't help but wail, as she pulled him to his feet by the hair.

“YOU DISGUSTING LITTLE BRAT!!!”, she screamed, “YOU SINFUL CREATURE! YOU LOWLY SINNER!”

“I'm sorry, Mama”, he sobbed, not knowing what he was apologising for, “I'll never do it again-”

“SILENCE, YOU DEMON!!!”

She struck him across the face.

“YOUR FATHER TOLD YOU TO GET DRESSED UP WITHIN TEN MINUTES EARLIER AND HOW LONG DID YOU NEED?! TWELVE!!!”

“I-I'm sorry, Mama-”

She struck him again.

That was all she ever did, when they weren't in public.

Strike him, pull his hair, scream and throw things at him, lock him into the cellar … just like his father.

“TWELVE MINUTES!!! THAT JUST SHOWS WHAT A TERRIBLE CHILD YOU ARE! WHAT DID WE DO TO DESERVE A BRAT LIKE YOU?! YOU SPAWN OF SATAN! YOU SPAWN OF POSSESSION! YOU LAZY, DISOBEDIENT, UNRELIABLE, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING-”

Someone clearing his throat distracted her.

Arthur Poole was standing in the door, frowning at the scene.

“Your husband is asking for you, Madam”, the butler informed her calmly.

Clara Jekyll huffed, let her son go and stormed out of the nursery.

Henry, now free from his mother's cruel grip, sank to his knees and cried.

Poole took the child in his arms and stroked his head soothingly.

“What a monster”, the man muttered, “Abusing a ten-year-old child like that. You poor, dear boy. You deserve better than this.”

Henry wanted to believe him, he really did.

But he couldn't.

Not when his parents were right and let him know it almost every day.

He was scum and he deserved everything he got.

Sometime later his mother had called him to the parlour and he had already readied himself for a world of hurt.

But when he got there, his mother's face was murderous.

“A little birdie told me that you don't respect the sanctity of marriage”, she snarled and he saw her hand wander to a huge book on the table.

“Is that true, you spawn of Satan? YOU SPAWN OF POSSESSION?!”

“No, Mama-”

“IT IS TRUE!!! I KNEW IT!!! OH, YOU SHOULD BE EXORCISED! IF I COULD I WOULD BANISH YOU TO THE DEPTHS OF HELL!!! BEGONE, SATAN!!!”

Then she threw the book at him.

Henry dodged it and ran for his life, before she could abuse him some more.

When Henry found out that he had … unnatural, sinful desires, his first impulse was to kill himself.

He didn't know how it had happened, but one day he realised that his feelings for his two best friends weren't normal.

Why the hell did he look at them and wanted to do inappropriate things with them?! Why did he want to touch them, kiss them, love them, court them … share his bed with them?!

That was disgusting!

Utterson and Lanyon were his friends and all three of them were boys!

So why the hell was he having these disgusting, sinful desires?!

But he wouldn't give into them.

He would NOT give into them!

When he was sixteen, his parents found out that he had lost his purity a few months earlier.

Their reaction was even worse than he had anticipated.

His mother had screamed at him for hours and slapped him until his cheeks were nearly bleeding.

That was normal so far.

But his father had given him the worst beating of his lifetime, had punched and kicked him in every spot that wasn't his face, until he was lying on the floor, whimpering in pain and spitting blood.

At this point he rarely even heard the terrible things his parents were saying.

But that wasn't even the worst.

He had been bedridden for a week and just begun to get better, when his infuriated mother had dragged him out of bed and into her own room.

At first he had been confused what he was supposed to do here, but then she threw some of her own clothes at him.

“PUT THEM ON, YOU MISERABLE LITTLE WHORE!!!”, she yelled, “SO THAT EVERYONE CAN SEE WHAT A DISGRACEFUL SLUT YOU ARE, LUSTING AFTER WOMEN AND MEN!!! DO IT, YOU DEMON!!!”

He froze in horror.

Then he fell onto his knees and begged: “No! Please, no! Mother, please, don't-”

“DON'T CALL ME MOTHER!!! AN IMMORAL DEMON LIKE YOU ISN'T MY SON!!!”, she shrieked and struck him twice.

Then he had been forced into his mother's evening dress.

The dress was ugly, hardly fit him, the corset was laced so tightly that he could hardly breathe, his mother's shoes were too small for him and he was still sore and in pain from the beating a week earlier.

And that was only a part of the torture.

After breakfast, where his father had just looked at him in disgust, they had paraded him around the small town that was their home.

Had shown him around in a dress so everyone could mock him and laugh at him.

Then they had dragged him home and he had received another vicious beating.

And all of this, just because he wasn't a virgin anymore.

Jekyll stopped.

He couldn't go on any further.

Partly because talking about these memories was becoming too painful, but mainly because he was currently crouched on the floor with Lady Summers, sobbing hysterically into her lap and unable to talk at all.

He felt so dirty and worthless, just when he thought about it all.

He could feel the bruises and the wounds inflicted on his body, hear his mother's furious shrieking, see his father's cruel gaze-

Lady Summers was gently petting his head and back and cooing words of comfort in both English and German.

Lying curled up on the carpet and crying into a noblewoman's black skirt would have been beyond humiliating, if it hadn't been her.

With this lady, it was fine.

Jekyll wasn't quite sure how long he had been crying, before it occurred to him that maybe he should stop and leave, before her next client came.

“Don't worry”, the Prussian assured him, “You're my last client for the afternoon. Cry all you want.”

Her voice sounded strangely hoarse and when he looked up, he was surprised to find that she was crying with him.

“Now that was one hell you went through, wasn't it, Doctor?”, she asked sadly. She cupped his cheek with one tiny hand and stroked it gently, wiping the tears away.

“Oh, my poor, dear friend. Listen, Dr. Jekyll”, she spoke gently, “No matter what your parents told you, you deserved none of this.”

“But … I really am-”

“No. No child deserves to be treated like this, especially not by their parents. And nothing of what they told you is true, never was. You were not a bad child. They were just horrible parents – scratch that, they don't even deserve to be called parents. Parents are supposed to be loving, encouraging and nurturing, not barbarous and abusive like yours. They should have gone to prison for what they did to you.”

“But I'm still a horrible son!”, he sobbed, “Right after my father died … I put my mother into the Bethlem Hospital and told everyone that she had gone mad from grief! She's still there and I never even went to visit her, I-”

Lady Summers raised an eyebrow. “Hush. That doesn't make you a bad son. After her behaviour and all the terrible things she and your father did to you, it was a perfectly human and reasonable thing to do. And I do not say this lightly.”

She continued stroking his cheek and rubbing his shoulders.

Jekyll leaned into her touch. It was so warm and caring.

He wanted more, he needed more, he needed the Lady's mellow lisp to banish his mother's screeching from his head, needed her gentle hands to make him forget his parents' brutal strikes and kicks, needed her tender words to erase his parents' cruel tirades of hatred.

Please give me more, I need more, please give me the motherly warmth I have never known, help me, be there for me, hug me, hold me, dry away my tears, tell me that everything will be fine, pet my chest and my back until I can breathe, please give me warmth, pet my head and stroke my hair, treat me like I'm precious, like I deserve to be cared for by you and the other three, please forgive me for being so childish and needy, I don't deserve you, I'm so sorry, I know that I'm asking for too much from my friends and you're younger than me and far above me, but please, I need it-

“Shhh. It's okay”, she cooed, “You're not below me, you never were. We all ask for too much from our friends sometimes, but right here and now, you're not. Let it all out. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. You're safe here. Your parents can't hurt you anymore.”

“They can't hurt you anymore.”

For so long his logic had told him this, but it was only when Lady Summers said these words out loud, that he finally was able to believe it.

He looked up to her with a smile. “Thank you”, he croaked. “Thank you so much.”

She smiled back fondly. “Hey now. That's what I do, isn't it?”

“No, seriously. You're … I don't know what I have done to deserve someone like you. Have I ever told you what a wonderful friend you are?”

The tiny Prussian chuckled: “No, Dr. Jekyll. But you can tell me as often as you like.”

“Well, you are. You're an amazing friend. And … thank you for humouring me and Hyde on this. I promise, this is not going to become a habit. I don't see you as a motherly figure, but-”

“I know. And it doesn't matter. It's fine”, she interrupted him gently. “Everything is fine.”

Jekyll leaned into the hand that was running its fingers through his hair. Suddenly, exhaustion settled in with a vengeance.

“I'm so tired …”

“Then sleep”, she cooed. “That couch over there is big enough for you.”

The two stood with some effort (Jekyll helped the Lady up) and she led him over to the couch.

He lay down and covered himself with the blanket.

Then he thought of something.

It was embarrassing to ask – he was fifty years old, not five!

But …

“Of course I will sing that song for you”, Lady Summers laughed kindly.

She sat next to him, took his hand and began to sing softly:

“Guten Abend, gut' Nacht!

Mit Rosen bedacht,

mit Näglein besteckt,

schlupf unter die Deck'!

Morgen früh, wennn Gott will,

wirst du wieder geweckt,

Morgen früh, wenn Gott will,

wirst du wieder geweckt.

Guten Abend, gut' Nacht!

Von Englein bewacht,

die zeigen im Traum

dir Christkindleins Baum.

Schlaf nun selig und süß,

schau im Traum 's Paradies.

Schlaf nun selig und süß,

schau im Traum 's Paradies.“

By the time she was finished, he was sleeping soundly and peacefully.

She sang the song once more, then went upstairs to make a phone call. She had to tell Mr. Utterson to pick up his lover later, after all.

When the black-haired lawyer came to pick his blond lover up, he found him still sleeping on the couch.

Utterson's eyes softened immediately.

“Milady”, he whispered, “I'm afraid I can't find it in my heart to wake him up.”

“Well, I'm not waking him up either”, she whispered back. “You're his sweetheart, you wake him up.”

“No, you wake him up!”

“No, you!”

And this whispered argument continued until the Doctor woke up by himself.

[theladyjojogrant]

The Missy Chronicles and why it’s one of the best Doctor Who books ever made.

Is it as hilarious as it sounds? Even more so. 

I just read The Missy Chronicles and I still can’t believe how perfect it is. Each story brings something unique to Missy’s character and adds some interesting things to Doctor Who canon that you really, no I mean really, don’t want to miss. 

(Below is a short synopsis of each story and some memorable quotes/things that happened. If you don’t want spoilers, come back and read this once you’ve read the book!) 

1. Dismemberment by James Goss

Basically, the Master always goes to this sketchy gentlemen’s club after he regenerates to just chill and be around other morally questionable people. But this time there’s a problem. The Master (as Missy, though she hasn’t decided on her name at this point) goes to the club like usual after her regeneration, but gets kicked out because she’s a woman. The rest of the story is her carrying out very extravagant plots for revenge on each of the members of the club, including, but not limited to: making it rain blood; tying a man to train tracks, marrying him, and then letting him get run over; and last but not least, freeing an African American slave and letting her poison the food at the club’s big annual celebration, telling them they can be cured if they eat some paper, and then telling them after they eat the paper that she was lying. 

Favourite quotes:

About Missy: “Her eyes possessed that cold burn you got from holding ice.” 

Missy: “So sorry I’m late. Just been running over a maths teacher with a milk float. You know how it is.” (GUYS I’M NOT CRAZY MY THEORY WAS RIGHT AND IT’S NOW CONFIRMED, MISSY KILLED DANNY!!!!!) 

Generally, this story was funny and very typically Missy. Also the African American slave Missy saved is the one who eventually comes up with the name Missy, and the only person from the club that Missy didn’t kill was a certain man named Dr. Skarosa...

2. Lords and Masters by Cavan Scott 

The time lords recruit Missy to go on a mission for them, so they hijack the Eye of Harmony in her TARDIS and send a time lady to hold a gun to her head. Basically she has to figure out what’s causing some strange time disturbances, and it turns out this doctor genetically engineered a creature that could travel in space and time and kept it in stasis so that he could gain the power from its energy or something like that. Missy was supposed to kill the creature, but instead she manipulated the time lady to kill the doctor, kept the creature, and miniaturized then killed the time lady and sent her back to the General on Gallifrey. 

Favourite quotes:

“Missy had places to go and people to subjugate.” 

“Missy gave her the look she usually reserved for simpletons and UNIT personnel.” 

Not too much went on story-wise, but it was interesting to see how Missy dealt with being pushed around by the time lords. She also gets her first “companion” in this story: Yayani, the time lady who’s supposed to kill her if she doesn’t obey the time lords’ instructions. 

3. Teddy Sparkles Must Die! by Paul Magrs

Yes, it is just about as strange as it sounds. Missy becomes the governess of three children in early/mid-20th century England. The children are suspicious of her and go through her things, only to find a sparkly teddy bear who’s really an alien who can distort time and complicated stuff to grant wishes. The teddy bear lets them go to crazy places like the moon and Missy gets the kids out of trouble. In return for her rescuing them, she wants the kids to wish to grow up to be powerful people in the world, and the kids do it because they don’t really get it. So they grow up and become powerful people, forgetting about Missy. Then Missy comes back when they’re older and demands they give her the world. Teddy Sparkles (the alien bear) thwarts Missy’s plan by rewriting time and sending the kids back to their childhood, though he also accidentally incorporates crazy creatures that Missy told the kids stories about into the world. Teddy Sparkles uses up the rest of his energy/life to set everything right again, even inventing a fictional story about a governess with a carpet bag and an umbrella who takes children on fantastic adventures so that Missy will become famous, which is something she hates because she gets crowded by people gawking at her. Missy leaves, and in the end one of the children grows up to be a grandmother, and Teddy Sparkles shows up as a Christmas present for one of her grandchildren. 

I didn’t write down any really memorable quotes from this one, but the whole Mary Poppins connection was great, and I found it interesting that Missy actually “lost” in this one; it wasn’t from her point of view at all, either. 

4. The Liar, the Glitch, and the War Zone by Peter Anghelides

This one is pretty complicated to explain because it’s very timey-wimey, but basically Missy runs her TARDIS into some Gryphons (after escaping from the Daleks at the end of The Witch’s Familiar) and then crash lands in 21st century Venice. Through a series of things happening (time rifts and stuff are involved), Missy’s dematerialisation circuit ends up in 14th century Venice and she goes back in time with a random girl (Antonia) and also tries to destroy 21st century Venice in order to get her TARDIS working again and escape the Gryphons. After the TARDIS starts working again Missy time rams her TARDIS and everything undoes itself, so 21st century Venice goes back to normal. Missy tries to leave Antonia in 14th century Venice with her dead friend who fell through a time rift, but Antonia mysteriously ends back up in the TARDIS. More on that in a sec because...

GUYS. THE THIRTEENTH DOCTOR IS IN THIS STORY. NO JOKE. Missy discovers her dematerialisaiton circuit went back in time when she sees an ad for it being on display in a museum. She tries to ask where it came from, but all the employees keep telling her to talk to the curator. So finally she sets up an appointment, and that’s where I immediately became suspicious. The curator’s office is very thoroughly described, and while the combination of old and new stuff (including a plague doctor’s mask) could be telling of the Doctor (I mean, Day of the Doctor and the Curator, hello???), it also could just be a typical curator. But what set me off was that the curator is never physically described at all. There are other clues (before an obvious reveal at the end of the story.) Through the whole story people keep calling Missy “signora” and she insists that she wants to be called “signorina” instead. The curator calls Missy “signorina” without any indication from Missy. And as the curator is helping Missy find out where the dematerialisation circuit came from, she says “I do enjoy this kind of research myself. It’s a real trip into the past.” Missy also runs into a plague doctor back in the 14th century when she’s getting her circuit back. Then at the end it’s made really clear. Antonia shows up in Missy’s TARDIS (after Missy tried to abandon her) saying “If it wasn’t for her, no one would have seen me again.” She then gives Missy a note: “...two short paragraphs of neat handwriting chastised Missy for her lack of caution, and told her that she would need to try much harder.” Missy goes back to the curator’s office and finds it empty except for the plague doctor’s mask. All the curator’s secretary can tell her is (and it’s the last line of the story): “The doctor doesn’t work here any more.” (*SCREAMS*) 

Also, Missy decides to call one of the Gryphons “Hermione” and then says that she’s a Slytherin girl herself because she goes for the bad boys. She also says that she sees some Severus Snape in herself. 

5. Girl Power! by Jacqueline Rayner 

I don’t know how Jacqueline Rayner can write perfect Doctor Who stories. Every. Single. Time. 

This story is not told in traditional narrative fashion, but initially through messages that Nardole and the Twelfth Doctor send back and forth to each other. Nardole is guarding Missy in the vault and is worried when she seems to be putting together some sort of plot. The Doctor tells him to go along with it, and soon enough Missy is contacting important and influential women all throughout history to create MADAM, Missy’s Army for the Demotion of All Men. (I’m still dying over that XD). She creates a group on “Spacebook” and chats with these women, including Henry VIII’s wives, Joan of Arc, Lady Jane Grey, Elizabeth I, Agatha Christie, and Jane Austen. Basically Missy just wants them all to kill all the men on the planet. But the Doctor joins the chat pretending to be Circe and gets all the women to leave the chat. He and Missy end up talking because Missy of course knows it’s him, and the Doctor thinks she came up an elaborate plot so that she could escape the Vault. Missy sort of accidentally confesses, however, that she was trying to have the oppressed (women) fight their oppressors (men), like the Doctor would do. 

Favourite quotes: 

Literally the entire story. The synopsis is vague because the meat of the story is Missy writing all these feminist things about how to respond to stupid man questions and how to do things that women can’t do at certain points in time (like vote, own property, etc.) and sending them to the members of MADAM. At the beginning of the story Nardole relates to the Doctor things that Missy has asked for, and the Doctor approves or disapproves them. These things include: hairspray, history books about important women (which was where she got the MADAM idea), marshmallows, a campfire (to roast the marshmallows; however, the Doctor doesn’t approve that one because “If she’s still got that can of hairspray, we could all be in big trouble.”), a tiger, and sherbert lemons. 

Missy: “It has come to my notice that being a woman isn’t just about the addition of some wobbly bits and a sudden inability to grow a goatee.” 

Missy on her Spacebook profile under the section ‘other names:’ “Professor Thascales, Colonel Masters, Reverend Magister, Sir Gilles Estram, Mister Saxon. Look, if I called myself ‘Reggie’ or ‘Dave’ the Doctor never even had the decency to suspect it was me. I used to go to a lot of trouble dressing myself up for him so is it so wrong to want some attention?” 

Missy on her Spacebook profile under the section ‘life events:’ “Born, Died, Died, Died, Died, Died, Died, Died, Died, Died, Died, Died, Died Died, Died, Took over some bloke’s body, Died, Died, Died, Became a human, Stopped being a human, Died, Died, Became a woman, Ruled!”

Missy: “I’m 100% done with human women. Hate the lot of them. Hope they all use lead-based makeup and die.” 

I literally did not stop laughing throughout this entire story. And I really mean that. My abs hurt. 

6. Alit in Underland by Richard Dinnick

Takes place during World Enough and Time/The Doctor Falls. Missy and Simm!Master travel around Floor 507 with Alit, the girl who gave Cyber-Bill the mirror in The Doctor Falls. The Masters (with Alit in tow) take out some Cybermen who come after them and find an elevator to leave the floor. 

Not much plot-wise, as you can see, and it’s a fairly short story. But bantering between the Masters is fantastic, and one of the best parts is Missy and Simm talking about how much they love cartoons. Missy tells him that she and the Doctor watched Frozen together and Simm can’t believe it and keeps judging her for it, when finally Missy tells him to “Let it go.” 

The other interesting and really cool aspect to this story is Missy’s character. She comforts Alit, tells her a story when she’s frightened, and even holds her hand. She also deliberately saves people, but keeps that a secret from Simm. I really like how the final two stories incorporate Missy’s slight moral shift. And the last little bit of the story, and of the book itself, is awesome: 

Simm!Master: “Tell me. Travelling with the Doctor. What is that all about?”

“I was imprisoned. It was the only way out.” 

“So you did have a plan before you ran into me. Get rid of him; betray him?” He licked his lips. “Kill him?” 

“Get rid...?” Missy looked at the Master, and her face became a stony façade. “That has a certain ring to it.” 

...

“Note to self: Get rid of...betray...kill.” Missy nodded. “Yes. I suppose that’s the only way.” 

The Missy Chronicles, everyone. If you have the chance to read it, please do.

[fandompitfalls]

Dumping the whole pot of tea on The Irregulars.

Originally posted: 4/9/2021

Two weeks ago, I offered to write a post for my Scion’s blog on the Irregulars before I had even seen the show.  While I try to follow Paul Thomas Miller’s belief that “All Holmes are good Holmes” (not gonna lie, I fail sometimes, yes Ferrell, I’m looking at you), this show caught my interest because I’m a fan of Gaiman’s A Study in Emerald and I am a horror nerd, so it had me at “rift”. I expected to like it.

What I did not expect was to love it as much as I do and to have so many thoughts about it.  Thoughts, feeling, surprising revelations and low-key frustration about things regarding this show and the fandom.  There was tea that needed to be spilled and I couldn’t do that in a BSI related blog post.  But this is my blog, nobody really reads it anyway so I’m dumping the whole damn tea pot onto the table and we’re doing this.

This is your spoiler warning:  Below be monsters.  You were warned.

If you’re still here then you’re either interested, got sent this as a “look what this bitch wrote”, or you really want to see the tea.  I’ve got words, so many that they’re going to be split out in categories. So sit back, I’m sure I’ll insult everyone by the time I’m finished.

Family

This show is about family.  End stop.  Not the family you’re born into but the family you find.  The Irregulars are a found family.  The first set of Irregulars; Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and Alice…whatever her last name was. They were close friends and tried to be a family in their own way, until anger, jealousy, resentment got in between that and shattered it leaving everyone left guilt ridden and resentful.  The second set of Irregulars: Bea, Jessie, Spike, Billy and Leo (yes, I’m counting him, he damn well earned his right into this family) are absolutely a found family.  They came together in the workhouse and a bond forged of mutual survival, protection and love was created. A bond that remained firm long after they all escaped and went out on their own. Even in episode six when there is doubt cast along everyone and Leo’s true identity is discovered, feelings are hurt, betrayal is strong and everyone goes their own way for a time, that bond is still there and is plainly shown in episode seven when the group is able to use that familial bond they’ve created and now strengthened to pull Jessie out of the nightmare world that the Linen Man has cast her into. It’s the bond that Jessie uses to convince Bea that sending the mother they both desperately wanted back into the rift was the right thing to do. It’s the bond that keep Leo, Spike and Billy willing to fight against the monsters to the death to protect their home and the victims they’ve rescued, not knowing that Bea and Jessie would close the rift but believing that they would.

Drugs

It was mentioned, even in the trailers and the summary for this series that Sherlock Holmes is drugged.  And yes, in fact for a good majority of the series, Sherlock Holmes is strung out on opium or cocaine.  It’s not the pretty strung out like scruffy hot Benedict Cumberbatch or the effervescent smoothness of Jeremy Brett.  Henry Lloyd-Hughes shows us the dark side of prolonged addiction; head shaven, stumbling around in filthy rags, vomiting over the side of the bed, pissing on the nightstand, wild with withdrawal symptoms. When Bea asks their mutual landlady, Mrs. Hudson about Sherlock, she calls him a drug addict and a bum. In episode four when Bea is in a race with Watson to see who can find Sherlock first, she is assisted in the Opium Den by one of the addicts who tells her “Just because we’re users doesn’t mean we’re bastards. Everyone down here is trying to numb the pain of something, grief, heartbreak, life in general.” The line resonates because while this is happening, the episode is juxtaposition Bea’s trips into the bowels of opium dens looking for an addict with the Palace where Leo is attending a party for the elite.  There he meets Eleanor Morgot who is obviously attracted to his title and position.  Later, on a balcony, she offers him a drug telling him he needs to loosen up.  Leo, high on…a tablet version of opium perhaps, we’re shown his trip in a dream-like quality. A far cry from a bedridden Sherlock on the floor scrambling for the few pieces of what he thinks is opium rather than sugar.  The use of drugs amongst the wealthy doesn’t seem to hold the same distain and disgust as it does in the bowels of London.  Which is an interesting play on society, not only in the time period in the show but even now.  Why is it cool and trendy to see the rich and famous snorting coke off a glass table using dollar bills or popping tablets, yet when Bob in the neighborhood is discovered to be using heroin, he is suddenly the social pariah.  Society’s view of drug use is defined on a scale of wealth and prestige. Sherlock Holmes, caught in the middle of this, his prestige holding at bay much of society’s distain, as seen in episode seven when Gregson doesn’t even blink when Holmes walks in to Scotland Yard wearing a filthy, ripped shirt and a green coat.

Mirrors and parallels

Let’s discuss mirrors and parallels together because I’m going to be going back and forth on these.  And we’re starting with the huge one, the Irregulars vs the Irregulars- it’s all fun and games until the monsters become more dangerous and someone goes through a rift. I’m talking about Alice, Sherlock and John mirrored in Leo, Bea and Billy.  My thoughts on John Watson will have their own section so I won’t get into much of them here, but by episode three, I could see where this was going.  Bea, who hadn’t really had any sort of attraction to anyone, finds herself attracted to Leo.  Billy, who has secretly loved Bea as more than an arrant sister for possibly years, suddenly has competition in this well-spoken newcomer and is forced to watch as Bea and Leo grow closer. On the other side, as we learn in episode five, Sherlock and Watson are riding high on their success as consultants to Scotland Yard when Alice arrives, and suddenly Watson has competition for Holmes’ affection and is forced to watch as Sherlock and Alice grow closer. How Billy deals with it throughout the final few episodes and how we see Watson deal with it are in no way mirrored to each other. While resentment and jealousy do grow in these two characters, it is Billy who realizes first that Bea is a person with her own thoughts and feelings, and she’s allowed to like whomever she wants.  Did it hurt him? Hell yes, the clueless idiot took out his frustration with not only trying and failing to make Bea jealous, but getting into fights including with Leo. But hating Bea and hating Leo for something nobody can control is pointless and by the end of the story, Billy chooses his family, willing to sacrifice and standing beside Leo in the end. Watson, on the other hand, doesn’t come to this realization until he experiences the losses and guilt of his choices and sees them played out once again in the next generation.  His frustration and jealousy festered for almost two decades before he was faced with the realization that nothing would have changed and only then, did he begin to let go, both figuratively and literally.

Speaking of Watson and Bea, the parallels between their two characters run true through the first episode- starting with their first meeting and ending at their last. Loyalty, stubbornness, anger, frustration with their lot in life, the anguish of people leaving them, all of it plays out between these two in blinding contrast and none so much as the theme of forbidden love.   The same characteristics that makes Bea such an expansive and intriguing character are also with Watson, just hidden under layers of resentment and guilt. The scene in episode four when Watson comes around the corner and sees Sherlock and Alice kissing and realizes he is never going to have the one thing he truly wants paralleled with the scene in episode eight where Leo tells Bea that he sacrificed his freedom for Billy’s release. He was going back to the palace and marrying someone names Helena.  Bea realizes in that moment that she will never have the one thing she truly wanted. There’s a scene between Watson and Bea when they’re hiding out in a closet in an Opium Den waiting for security to go past them.  He looks at her and says, “ It amuses me to think you can best me, I am better educated, wealthier and stronger than you are, tell me , what ability is it that you think you have that I don’t possess in greater abundance?” And while that may be true; John Watson is a man of means, ex-Army, particular friend of Sherlock Holmes and a doctor, he has forgotten what made him that way in the beginning. Everything he was, everything he is, that is covered under layers of bitterness, he sees either consciously or unconsciously in Bea. This is what highlights the final scene between Bea and Watson, when she breaks down and while it’s not proper to touch, he does so anyway because he understands.  “Everyone leaves me” - “I won’t” Realization and acceptance and shared grief makes this scene extremely powerful.

Finally, let’s talk about John Watson

I’m going to be honest, I made it through the first six episodes with plans to make buttons that said, ‘John Watson is a petty jealous bitch’, because damn. And before anyone comes at me with the idea that I don’t understand and of course John had the right to be upset or worse yet, heteronormativity (although, honestly, the lack of Alice hate is either shocking or I’m not in the right places), let me say that yes, I understand, but watching Billy take a angry visible step back from Bea and Leo juxtaposed with John attempting to open a rift so he can keep Sherlock in town and then making the obvious choice to ignore Sherlock’s plea for help when it came to saving Alice.  A choice that he had to make again with Alice’s daughter Jessie.  Watching John in the first six episodes all the signs are there, the old married couple, where John is shouting out the window at an escaping Sherlock that he doesn’t even want to see him again to the vicious way he comes after Bea when she discovers who he truly is.  Hell, we as the viewers don’t even see Sherlock and John in the same scenes together outside of the flashback until episode seven. This is how we see John Watson because up until then, this is how Bea sees John Watson. They’re told by Mycroft Holmes, the Linen Man, hell even by Sherlock Holmes through his story that John Watson is the wart on this story, he is the danger, he is the reason this is happening again.

Episode seven though, is where Royce Pierreson shines as John Watson. Because episode seven and eight takes a man that is universally hated by everyone in the series and flips it to a man who is trapped by society, rules, honor, duty, and his own self-loathing who tried to keep things as they were only managing to ruin things completely.  He turns from a cruel example of classism to a sympathetic character, a man who’s trying to do things right, who wants to fix what he did.  By episode eight, I was not only love John Watson as a character, but I was sympathetic to his situation.  His attempts at denial and rationalization in episode seven that finally culminated in the first time he ever spoke the words aloud “I love him” was just…damn, rip my heart out Royce and stomp on it because you’ve got me. From that moment on, all thoughts of buttons were gone from my head and I was, possibly for the first time, firmly in the John Watson Appreciation Society.  Royce never says a word during the scene when Alice returns and Sherlock is overcome with emotions, but you can just see in his eyes the dagger slowly piercing his heart and how he is silent, allowing the sisters and Sherlock to have their moment with Alice.  Even when Jessie begins to close the rift and Alice returns to Purgatory, he remains still, finally moving when Sherlock looks at him and utters those first self-aware words he might have spoken the entire series “You’ve been a better friend to me than I deserved John”.  And when he is once again faced with saving the man he loves or a woman that Sherlock loves, he finally lets go, making the choice to help Bea save Jessie and letting Sherlock step into the rift to be with Alice.  It’s a painful scene and it’s what makes the final scene mentioned earlier between he and Bea even more powerful.  She looked at him as asks, “How do you stop loving someone?” and his reply with “You don’t.” Just. Heart wrenching.

I have never shipped Johnlock in any of the series, but congratulations Royce Pierreson, you’ve got me shipping Johnlock.  Not only Johnlock but canon Johnlock.  It might be unrequited (maybe, there was a hint of subtext and there’s always Season two) but it’s canon.

Which leads me to the important question and one in which I will dump out the remainder of my tea: I checked Twitter and social media the weekend The Irregulars came out. I never heard a peep about this.  There is a show out there, with Holmes and Watson, that is set in Victorian London (monsters and cross-dimensional rifts notwithstanding) where the showrunner has explicitly given canon Johnlock and I haven’t heard a peep about it?  Why is that?  I have my theories, but I really hope they aren’t true because it just gives credence to long held theories. I’m hoping that I’m just maybe not in the right groups, but my social media feed is vast enough that something would have eked through but all I hear are crickets.

It seems my teapot is empty.  Anyway, let me hear your thoughts. Preferably here.  Like I said, I’m not a popular blog so I’ll be surprised if this one picks up traction. But hey, come and talk.

You have different theories?  Wonder why I didn’t speak on something that you saw? Find yourself personally insulted by something I wrote? Want to celebrate my list of favorite John Watsons going up to five?  Let’s brew a fresh pot of tea and discuss it.

[apicturewithasmile]

LOST rewatch (season 2):

[follow the entire rewatch-tag here]

episode 1 – Man of Science, Man of Faith:

It’s Desmond tiiiiiime!!!! Maaaaake your own kind of muuuusiiiiiic!!!

>:

OH MY GOD Jack’s flashback hair is horrible.

Desmond’s accent alone is worth watching the show but honestly, his whole character is a total game changer. He’s the personified sci-fi element and I McFriggin love it!

 episode 2 – Adrift:

Big feels for Sawyer here

Does this count as the first on-island flashback when we see John climbing down the hatch? Because we already saw what happened after that in the previous episode… I guess it’s only a mini flashback but still… it is…

Awwww it’s the Dharma sharky

With every Michael flashback I hate his ex even more.

How did everything that’s happened so far only happen in 44 days?!?! It feels like they gone through enough drama for a whole year.

“box man”

episode 3 – Orientation:

Katey Sagal <3

Kate discovering the real important shit – first the chocolate, now the guns

“You needed a father figure and I needed a kidney.” Fuck you Anthony Cooper.

“Why do you find it so hard to believe?” – “Why do you find it so easy?” – “IT’S NEVER BEEN EASY!!!” --- you tell him, John!!!

episode 4 – Everybody Hates Hugo:

I missed Rose!

….Hurley’s boss at the fast food restaurant… ain’t that the same guy who bullied John at the box company? Did I ever notice that before?

episode 5 – …And Found:

Jin’s hair growing longer is all I ever needed for my inner peace.

That Sun + John scene in her garden :’)

I forgot how good the score of that show is. Suck me right up with the feels!

episode 6 – Abandoned:

Oh nooo… that the episode where Shannon dies? Please don’t!!!

I can never understand what it is Ghost Walt is saying to Shannon

John holding the baby *external screaming*

I’ll forever be bitter that they killed Shannon off – all the missed potential for character development

episode 7 – The Other 48 Days:

It’s Nathan Ingram looking like Indiana Jones.

Is it ever explained what the Arrow Station was for?

It’s so annoying that the place Ana killed Goodwin isn’t the same place where Jin finds his corpse in the jungle.

episode 8 – Collision:

Kate winning against Jack at golf is what I’m here for.

I wish Ana Lucia and Sayid had gotten more scenes together after that

“What good would it be to kill you if we’re both already dead?”

That reunion scene of Rose & Bernard and Sun & Jin is soooooo kitschy, I love it

episode 9 – What Kate Did:

Petition for Daniel Daw Kim to be topless more often

I… didn’t remember Sawyer fever-mumbles to Jack that he loves Kate

Ah yes, it’s the black horsey episode

Shannon’s funeral :’( whyyyyyy?????

“Boy, when you say beginning you mean… beginning.”

I’m trying to figure out who cut out part of the Orientation video… was it Kelvin?

Kate’s dad, who’s a very high ranking soldier: “I don’t have murder in my heart.” Me: …..sure, Jan.

“Don’t mistake coincidence for fate.” Mr. Eko and John could have had sooo many intriguing conversations; it’s a pity they had to write him out.

episode 10 – The 23rd Psalm:

I don’t like the whole drug plot but that’s probably because that means more plot for Charlie… like… don’t get me wrong: I like the backstory, but not the new found drama with Charlie

Smokey in his whole glory. That scene is so breath taking, I love it.

episode 11 – The Hunting Party:

 I had forgotten the whole “Michael locks John and Jack up in the armory”-bit

And Jack and Locke actually taking a button-shift together? That’s programmed trouble.

Fuck you Jack! Take Kate with you! You’ve known her for…. What? Over 50 days? You know she won’t stay behind. You’re really no good judge of character, are you?

funny how John is so curious about Sawyer’s name… kinds foreshadowing to the whole Anthony Cooper connection as if John already felt it somehow

Geronimo Jackson

episode 12 – Fire + Water:

 I find it interesting that they chose a + symbol for the title instead of “and” or an ampersand.

Charlie’s parents’ accents are… bad.

“Now Locke’s your friend, eh?” oh shut the fuck up Charlie!!!

Hurley as Jesus on Charlie’s dream is foreshadowing

The difference between Charlie and John is that John is protective over Claire and Aaron whereas Charlie is possessive.

 “[Kate’s] hot, [Jack’s] hot” – Ana Lucia, confirmed bisexual.

YAAAAS!!! Hit the bastard, John! You show him!!!!

episode 13 – The Long Con:

 “You wanna break seven virgin Marys? Be my guest! But I’m superstitious.”

Yunjin Kim is the only person on earth that can make the colour orange look good to me

Seriously… I didn’t remember why exactly I dislike Charlie so much but season 2 reminds me episode by episode.

episode 14 – One Of Them:

 IT’S HAPPENING! EVERYBODY STAY CALM!!!!

I’m so here for every scene between Sayid and Danielle

Amazing “arm waving through a tent” acting @Michael Emerson!!!

“My name is Henry Gale, I’m from Minnesota.” LIIIIIIAAAAAARRRR!!!

I think the first time I watched it I was so excited about Michael Emerson that I didn’t notice the guy who’s talking to Sayid in the next scene is Kelvin.

The first time John sees his future island husband… awwwww :’)

Funny how at first John doesn’t believe Ben’s act but later he’s like “tell me all the lies, I’ll believe you anything, my dear!”

“Why would you travel [in a hot air balloon]?” – “Because I was rich.” Has any line in the entire show ever been that real?

I have trouble believing that Jack is physically stronger than John.

The first time we see the hieroglyphs on the timer.

episode 15 – Maternity Leave:

Alex!!! My pretty little child!!!

Oh my sassy dear rat boy

And creepy Ethan is back.

Mr. Eko: *cuts his beard off* – Not Henry Gale: Okay, wtf?

“Are you the genius or are you the guy who’s feeling like he’s always living in the shadow of the genius?” Ben you little asshole!

episode 16 – The Whole Truth:

Daniel Dae Kim shirtless again – thanks for answering my prayers

Terry O’Quinn gets sexier the scruffier he is

Does Sun realise she’s pregnant this early?!?!?!

Okay John just totally took a glance at Jack’s dick after he was getting out of the shower.

“Jack and Locke are a little too busy worrying about Locke and Jack.”

Oh riiiight, Kate doesn’t know about Not Henry Gale

The fact that Ana Lucia and Sayid get along okayish fills my heart with so much joy but then I remember she’s gonna be dead in like… 2 episodes and I hate that.

“Men reject their prophets and slay them but they love their martyrs and honour those whom they have slain. So what’s the difference between a martyr and a prophet?”

episode 17 – Lockdown:

The first time Ben yells “Jaaawwwn!”

There’s also more and more Emerchesthair going on and I’m here for it!!!

“How about you put your mangos where your mouth is?”

Anthony Cooper you fucking asshole.

John just found the most inappropriate time to propose to someone

“You came back!” – “Did you think I was gonna leave you here?!”

episode 18 – Dave:

I wish Hurley’s story wasn’t focussing on his weight to much

John putting in a good word for Not Henry Gale is my vibe!

Never mind… bondage Ben is MY VIBE!!!

“God doesn’t know how long we’ve been here, John. He can’t see this island any better than the rest of the world can.” --- that’s one of the most underrated lines in the entire show I think.

episode 19 – S.O.S.:

Moooore chesthair action!!!

I love that Rose and Bernard just fairly recently met and haven’t been together for like 30 years already.

episode 20 – Two For The Road:

Ugh is that the Ana Lucia/Christian Shephard episode?? I’m always in for more daddy Shephard.

Strangulation really is Ben’s go to kill method, isn’t it?

“I was coming for you.” – you sure were, my guy. You sure were.

episode 21 - ? :

“the artist formerly known as Henry Gale”

Terry O’Quinn’s arms give me life

It’s the Pearl station

Oh riiiight there’s been cameras in the Swan station, totally forgot that

“every single second of my pathetic little life is as useless as that button” poor John

Sawyer comforting Kate… I’m here for it!

episode 22 – Three Minutes:

Oh Alex, my sweet angel

“we got caught in a net” – “why are you telling me this, Sawyer?” – “because you’re about the closet thing I got a friend on this island, Doctor.” I wish they had spent more time focussing on that broship rather than the love triangle

DESMOND’S BACK!!!!

episodes 23 and 24 – Live Together, Die Alone:

“we’re stuck in a bloody snow globe”

Charles fucking Widmore, my OTV – One True Villain

Aaah it’s the weird Hurley bird

John crying in the jungle breaks my heart (and fuck you Charlie for making fun of him)

“with enough money and determination you can find anyone”

Desmond realising John saved his life by hammering on that hatch door is one of the best moments in the whole show.

Not Henry Gale is back, my bebe, right there with the dramatic appearance on a boat

Desmond really big on competing against Sayid in the “who’s got the best island hair”-competition (Sayid still winning tho)

“I’m sorry for whatever happened that made you stop believing but it’s all real.”

“We’re the good guys, Michael!”

[qqueenofhades]

Prompt: The Many Trials and Tribulations of one Sam Jones as he attempts to lose his virginity

Right, I have several prompts/requests for more in the Swan and Crossbones universe, so I am going to get started on some of them, surprising nobody. They will be done chronologically, starting soon after chapter 32 of The Rose and Thorn and looking at bits of the pirate family’s life through the years. This one comes before flesh and bone and is the first in the one-shot series.

Philadelphia

June 1741

Having assured himself one last time that there were nostray socks or underthings or other odds and ends hiding under the bed ordraped on the sideboard or otherwise on the verge of escape, Sam Jones shut thetrunk, sat on it, and flipped the tongues down, locking them with a satisfyingthunk. He hated packing, as it always transpired that you owned far more thanyou thought you did when you were trying to force it into one small space foran extended period of time, and given as said time was six weeks aboard the Dora Mae, a two-masted brigantine ownedby a local Scottish tobacco merchant, he had to be strategic about it. Theywere sailing to Newport, in Glasgow, then taking a coach to Edinburgh, thenstaying in a guest house for probably at least a fortnight while in search ofpermanent accommodation, and whatever else. The clothing and personal belongingsthat Sam was placing into this trunk now needed to be arranged under thepossibility that he might not be able to properly unpack until Michaelmas.Practical bits on top, things he could live without below, fragile or importantbits well cushioned between. Bloody nightmare, really.

Straightening up, he regarded his efforts with somesatisfaction. He had been vacillating between excitement and apprehension asthe date for their departure grew ever closer, a scared but eager knowledgethat he – that they – were actuallydoing this. Jack had decided to take Uncle Thomas’ advice, wanted to trybecoming a doctor, and he had to be in Edinburgh to take the universityentrance exam in September. If he passed that, he would be formally extended anoffer of matriculation at the medical school. If he didn’t… well. It waspossible that they would be back here next year with nothing but an extendedvacation to Scotland for their trouble, and Jack was entirely aware of theessential insanity of what he was attempting. He had to cram years of missededucation into six months of intensive study, and had shaken off suggestionsthat he take his time about it and prepare at a normal pace. He wanted to go, he wanted to start something new,after spending the rest of his life as he had, and Sam had to admit, if anyonecould pull this off, it was him. That was why it was helpful to be inPhiladelphia. There were plenty of books and scholarly tracts that Henry and Mr.Franklin had scouted up for them, and Sam assisted as much as he could.

Sam took a deep breath, once more reconciling himself to thereality that this was actually happening. It wasn’t as if he was a novice toadventures – last year had, if nothing else, showed that – but this wasdifferent. He was growing up, leaving home, going across the bloody AtlanticOcean to bloody Scotland, and with JackBellamy, of all people. Going as a unit, a pair. Together. They’d beenliving at Jack and Charlotte’s house in Philadelphia, with Alix and Cecilia,and Henry and his family just down the lane, and while this had certainly been useful,it did make it slightly crowded. Geneva had sailed them here on the Rose along with Uncle Liam and AuntRegina, who had left last week to return to Paris and begin the process ofselling their house and packing their things to move back here permanently.What with one thing and another, Sam and Jack had not really been alone (or atleast not without considerable risk of interruption) since they left Nassau,and that was starting to become annoying.

Nor could Sam see much hope for a reprieve in the future.They were sharing a cabin on the DoraMae, but because the captain was Scottish and thus saw no reason notto pinch pennies to their utmost, they would have a third companion: ayoung barrister-in-training, Edward Crouch, hoping to be admitted to the Innsof Court in London after a visit to a wealthy old uncle in Glasgow. Sam hadonly met their unwanted roommate once, and was not enthused for a repeat engagement.Crouch looked like a weasel, twitched like a rabbit, and sneezed constantly, as well as having a habit of peering judgmentally at the world frombehind fingerprinted spectacles and clicking his tongue with a sound like smallordnance exploding. A person less conducive to an atmosphere of luxuriousseclusion and romance (relatively speaking, this was still a cramped cabin on atobacco merchanter on a long ocean crossing) could hardly be imagined.

Sam grimaced. He supposed it was unchristian to hopethat Crouch caught an ague and died mid-voyage, but how in damnation he wasgoing to manage sharing six weeks with Jack in small spaces, and not being ableto touch him at all, he had no idea. He had offered to compensate the captain withthe extra money he might lose by canceling Crouch’s passage, since he did haveplenty of that now, but it was probably a bad idea to make an enemy of abarrister who might proceed directly to lawsuits upon being thwarted. Thecaptain had refused, anyway. Sam, Jack, and Crouch it was going to be. Bloody wonderful.

Perhaps, Sam rationalized, it was for the best. He and Jackwere cautiously venturing to be more physical with each other, but they stillhadn’t gotten much past the enjoyable fumbling stage of things. Sam had alsodecided that he wasn’t going to say a word about it, as he was still mortifiedover his too-forward behavior during his convalescence on Nassau. In hisdefense, he had been a total mess, he hadn’t known, and it was a good thingGeneva had stepped in to take that nonsensein hand, but still. The last thing Sam wanted was for Jack to think that he wasonly in it for the carnal side of things (not that he had any idea what thosecarnal things were, aside from briefand lurid fantasies) or that he was unsympathetic to the terrible things he hadbeen through and simply who he was, and he didn’t want to distract Jack fromhis studies. Thus, even though it made him feel like a pot constantly about toboil over, he had kept his hands, thoughts, and general mood of frustrated lustto himself.

Sam took one more look around, then threw a few more thingsinto his rucksack and set it on top of the trunk. They would be taking it alldown to the docks to load aboard later this afternoon, and the room lookedoddly bare, not that it had been extensively furnished before. He was the onewith the most luggage, anyway. Jack’s clothes and possessions barely filled abattered carpet bag, and Sam felt almost guilty that he had so much to bringalong, and Jack so little. The money frommy share of the Skeleton Island treasure is as much his as mine, I’ll tell himhe can buy whatever he wants. How he would convince Jack to accept it, hedidn’t know, but still. Even if Jack didn’t want things, he should at least know that he had the option. With UncleThomas’ help, Sam had converted some to cash, some to stocks, and the rest tothe care of the Bank of England, who were supposed to handle stashing it safelyfor future use. Barring a really major disaster, they should never be pooragain.

After a final pause, Sam took a deep breath and wentdownstairs, where Charlotte, Alix, and Cecilia were eating lunch in thekitchen. At the sight of him, Charlotte looked up and smiled. “Packing allfinished, then?”

“I think so,” Sam said, sitting down and helping himself toa generous spoonful of cold shepherd’s pie. “It strikes me that we’re… thatwe’re actually going. It’s weird.”

“Aye,” Charlotte said. “And strange for Jack, I’m sure, tobe going back to Britain. Take care of him, all right? Please?”

“I will,” Sam promised her solemnly. He could not possiblybe unaware that Jack had to overcome a great deal of instinctive and ingrainedrevulsion to even set foot on a ship bound back for the soggy little island hehad spent so long trying to escape. Edinburgh wasn’t London, but still. “Isthere anything else I really should know? I mean, I’ll stick out like a sorethumb anyway, but…” He shrugged self-effacingly. “Just in case.”

“You’ll be fine,” Charlotte said. “Though it rains probablyrather more than you’re accustomed to, and is that bit colder, as well. Nobodymoves to Britain for the weather.”

“I might not mind getting out of Philadelphia,” Sam admitted.The place tended to stink like an open sewer in high summer, not that Edinburghwas going to be any more savory, and he had passed the time by helping hisbrother Henry in Mr. Franklin’s print shop. This was well enough, but the printshop was hot, close, noisy, and sweaty, with a lot of inking rolls and settingtype and hauling heavy things and invariably ending up with black stains allover his hands and sleeves. It also made him miss Nathaniel, Franklin’s latenephew, who had been his best friend for his entire life and who Sam had gottenkilled (he had never managed to absolve himself of the blame) at Robert Gold’sestate in Barbados last year. He tried to tell himself that it was done, itcould not be changed, and then he felt even guiltier at the idea that he couldmove on from it, start this exciting new chapter in his life, while Nathanielwas still dead, and nothing could ever fix that or take it away. Sam’s head hada tendency to go in spirals on these things, and a change of scenery might nothurt.

“Will you miss your family at all?” Charlotte asked. “It’sthe first time you’ve left the Americas, isn’t it?”

“Aye,” Sam said. “And I will, a bit.” His parents andgrandparents had seen them off when they left Savannah, and he had foundhimself momentarily clinging, even though he was normally an independent-mindedlad. “But it’s not forever. At least I hope not.”

“I’m sure,” Charlotte said. “And I’m bloody proud of him. Iknow you are as well.”

“I am.” Sam met her gaze, and they experienced a brief,wordless moment of understanding in their shared love for Jack, different as itmight be. Sam had come to quite like her, and it was also why, even though Jackand Charlotte had had their marriage annulled, he did not feel entirely correctabout pursuing intrigues with Charlotte’s former husband before her face andunder the same roof. Not that there was any jealousy. Charlotte and Alix werehappily together, Charlotte and Jack had never consummated their marriage, andwhile their bond was deep and real, it was not of a sexual nature. Sam knewthat Charlotte would not have cared whatsoever if he wanted to roger Jack everyday and twice on Sundays (which he did, but never mind) and that this wasreflective of his own hang-ups, but still.

They finished lunch, and Sam went out to find a hirecarriage, loaded the trunk and bags in with the driver’s help, and rode down tothe wharves and the Dora Mae. Astheir things were carried on board, Sam looked hopefully at the cabin for anyevidence that Edward Crouch might be detained on an urgent engagement and thusmiss the sailing, but his stern black valise was already set on one of thebunks, and the place whiffed faintly of weasel. Damn it.

With a reminder from the captain that they were departing onthe early morning tide tomorrow, and hence might wish to take up their berthtonight, Sam went ashore and took the carriage to the house, where he paid thedriver, told him to return in a few hours, and went back in. Now thateverything was over except for the waiting, he felt jittery, restless, not surehow to occupy this last bit of time on American soil. Jack should be home soon,they were having a farewell supper at Henry’s place, and after that, would headdown to the ship. This is it. That’severything. It seemed rather impossible to have actually accomplished.

Sam paced, then went out to the back porch and sat for abit, then paced some more, until he heard the front door bang and Jack’s voicegreeting Cecilia, who had run to meet him. It was clear that she was strugglingwith the idea of their upcoming parting, and Jack had tried to pay specialattention to her, promising to write and to send little things from time totime. As Sam emerged into the hall, he saw Jack balancing Cecilia on his hip,and grinned to himself; the sight would never fail to be adorable. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Jack put Cecilia down, though she still kept her armsaround his waist, and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “All done, then?”

“Aye, I took the luggage to the ship earlier. Crouch madeit, unfortunately.”

Jack raised the other eyebrow. “He’s not the worst berth mate to be stuck with.”

“No, I suppose if he was actively dying of consumption, orsmelled strongly of boiled cabbage, we could do worse. Wait. He does smell of boiled cabbage. And hesneezes, so frankly, he might be dying. I’m not sure I would mind.”

Jack looked as if he was trying to hide a grin. “Why do youhate him so much, exactly?”

“He’s – ” Sam attempted to think of a way to phrase this indeference to the child listening in. “He’s a bit of an… obstacle, don’t youthink?”

“Obstacle?” Jack looked genuinely confused. “To what?”

“Never mind,” Sam said, fighting his usual stab of insecurity.If Jack was peachy keen at the prospect of a six-week voyage with no physicalcontact at all, he had no right to say anything different. “Who knows, maybewe’ll end up best mates.” He doubted it in the extreme, but trying to keep acheerful outlook was always the first step.

Jack looked at him as if sensing that something had remainedunspoken, but consented to let the subject drop for the time. He went upstairs,freshened up, and then returned for them to head over to Henry’s. They spentsome time chatting with Violet and playing with Richard and Lucy until Henrygot home from work, with a few special treats. “Ready to go, Sam?”

“I think so,” Sam said, half-wishing that everyone wouldstop asking him this question, as his answer could not have changedoutstandingly in the few hours since they’d last enquired. Besides, the morethey asked, the more he’d start worrying if he was or not. Still, he managed asmile. “Going to miss having me to boss around at the print shop?”

“It’s good for you,” Henry said, with an older brother’sprerogative to lord it over a younger one at every opportunity. “But I’mexcited for both of you. Oh, Jack, I have this for you. It’s a portfolio thatthe Edinburgh medical school published just last year, it should have somethingto say about the most recent version of the exam. Here.”

“Thanks.” Jack looked surprised, as he was still not in thehabit of having a family who casually picked up things they thought he mightlike and that would be helpful for him. Then Charlotte, Alix, and Ceciliaarrived soon after, and they all went to have dinner together. Henry offered atoast to new opportunities and new adventures, and they drank to it, even asSam’s chest had contracted into a knot of anxiety and he couldn’t quite get outan answer. Theoretically, he supposed, he could still change his mind and staybehind. Not that he was going to do that, not that he even wanted to. But atleast it was there.

Once it started to get somewhat late, everyone began toglance at the clock and clear their throats self-consciously. Jack and Sam pushedtheir chairs back and stood up, and Henry did as well. “Send a letter when youget to Scotland, all right? I’ll make sure Killian, Mum, Granny, Grandpa, andUncle Thomas get it. They’ll want to know.”

“Aye, of course.” Sam’s throat felt dry. He held out hishand. “I’ll – well, I’ll see you sometime, then?”

Henry took it, shook it, then pulled him into a brief,brotherly hug, clapping him firmly on the back. “I hope you have a wonderfuladventure.”

“Better than the last one, at least,” Sam cracked weakly. Hehugged Violet as well, then his niece and nephew, then glanced over at Jack,who was hugging Charlotte and Cecilia ferociously, one with each arm. Ceciliawas trying, with no success, not to cry, and Jack and Charlotte looked ratherbright-eyed themselves. Finally, they stepped apart, and Charlotte took Jack’sface in her hands and kissed his forehead. They clutched each other’s hands forone more long moment, then let go.

Charlotte turned to Sam, and they hugged quickly as well.Sam thought he felt her trembling slightly, but she was customarily brisk whenshe pulled back. “Well, then. Off with you, both of you. Go on.”

Jack hugged Cecilia one more time, kissed the top of herhead, then put her down. “Indeed, we should be on our way. We’ll write fromGlasgow. Come on, Sam.”

Sam trotted up next to him,pulled on his shoes, gathered his things and took one last look at theirfamily, gathered on the doorstep and waving them off. The summer sky was adeep, streaky red and rose and purple, hints of sunset still lingering in thewest and the air thick and hot, as they started down the muddy road, in theflickering shadows of street lamps. Sam glanced back once, but by then, theyhad turned the corner, and the past was out of sight.

To his credit (or so Sam strongly felt) he managed a wholeweek out to sea before the Crouch situation started to get really intolerable.The weather was good, which was nice; Sam was not fond of sailing to startwith, and a bumpy ride would not have done anything to improve this opinion.They were paying passengers and thus not expected to assist with the vessel’soperation, and Jack spent most of his time studying anyway, crammed at the tinydesk with his various books and squinting in the light through the smallporthole. The only problem was, there was only one desk, and Crouch felt that he was entitled to use it at leasthalf the time as well, since it was uncomfortable to work when stooped over ina small bunk. This had been cause for a low-level feud brewing between him andJack, as they tried to elbow the other out of it or stealthily get to it firstin the morning, before the other woke up. The cabin was small enough that Samwent stir-crazy after a few hours stuffed in there with both of them, so hespent most of his time above. Perforce, without Jack.

Not to mention, Crouch apparently had the hearing of abloody bat. Not that it was really needed: Jack and Sam had one berth, Crouchthe other, which meant there was perhaps six feet of space between them at anygiven time, and if they turned over or otherwise made the berth creak too muchwith totally innocent rearrangements, Crouch would glare at them from under hisstriped nightcap and hiss if they really had to make so much noise. It was asif he had never considered the possibility that a long voyage in close quarterswith strangers might just beinconvenient, or he had the nervous disposition of a baby dormouse, or he hadbeen sent expressly to ensure that no heathenish behavior would take placeaboard this ship, no sirree, not on his watch. There was clearly no way totry anything without it instantly coming to his wretched attention, and that,well, that would definitely be a disaster.

Thus, Sam was obliged to sleep close alongside Jack, pressedup against him in body and limb, breathing his scent and able to touch him, butonly in passing and unsuspicious brushes, and not do a damn thing else aboutit. He was fairly sure that some of his blood might never return to his headafter how long it had spent hopefully and painfully elsewhere, as if imploringhim to put it to use one of these days before it went blue and fell off. Samwould have liked nothing better than to do this, but, well, Crouch. There wasthe possibility that he and Jack could sneak off to the hold, but that was, tosay the least, risky and uncomfortable, not to mention unsanitary. Sam didn’twant their first time to be against some moldy damp beams in the pitch black,listening every second for one of the sailors coming down. Besides, Jack didnot appear to be suffering in the same way, so maybe it was just Sam consignedto purgatory on this whole thing. He still wanted to be with Jack even if allthey ever ended up doing was sleeping together like this, with nothing extra,but… he wanted the extra too.

It was thus coming up on a fortnight out of Philadelphiawhen matters really came to a head. The last few days had been rather rough, ofcourse Crouch was prone to seasickness, and rather than spend anothergodforsaken instant in the faintly vomit-smelling cabin, Sam had escaped to thequarterdeck. To his surprise, Jack joined him in a few more minutes, hairblowing out of its ribbon as they looked out to the misty horizon together.“Bloody hell, I’m sick of skeletal diagrams. And if Crouch farts one more time,I’m wringing his neck.”

Sam looked at his beloved with a rather triumphantexpression, as if to say that his hatred of their third wheel had thus beenvindicated all along. “Not to mention the puking.”

“That too.” Jack leaned on the railing. “Besides, we haven’treally had a chance to, well.” He waved a hand awkwardly, as this was still notsomething he was good at doing. “Talk.”

In Sam’s opinion, talking was the least of what they had notbeen able to do, but he forbore from offering this up. Trying to change thesubject, he said, “How’s the studying going?”

“I should pass the damn thing. Maybe. Hopefully. They couldstill decide not to offer me a place, if I barely make the cut.” Jack’s handstwisted on the rail. “It might have been wiser if I went out first, alone, andthen sent for you if I got in, rather than dragging you along and uprootingyour life when there’s still a chance I won’t. If you – ”

“I’d… honestly rather be here.” Sam tried to keep his voiceoffhand. “With you. And I don’t think you wanted to sail back to Britain byyourself, did you?”

“Not really, no.” Jack’s lips were grim. “I just keepforgetting there’s the both of us now.”

“Aye.” Sam decided to refrain from pointing out that strictlyspeaking, it was three, as he didn’t want to keep bellyaching about Crouch andmake Jack think he was hating every minute of this and wished he was at home.“It’ll be… it’ll be all right.”

“We’ll see.” Jack glanced at him again. “What have you beenthinking about? All this time. You keep looking like you’re going to saysomething, and then you don’t.”

“It’s not important,” Sam said quickly. “As long as you’rehappy.”

“Well, happy is astretch, but this is a necessary evil.” Jack caught his hair as it started toblow again and tied it back, a brief, easy gesture which was among the many Samfound inordinately attractive about him. “But I care what you think too, youknow.”

“I just…” Sam hesitated, glancing around to every side forunwanted eavesdroppers. “Three’s a crowd, you know? Especially with our bloodymate Edward goggling at us the whole time. There’s no chance for… anythingelse.”

Jack still looked confused, before understanding belatedlylit on his face. “Ah.”

“Yes.” Sam looked down at the blue-green waves, the curls ofwhite wake, peeling away from the DoraMae’s hull. “Really, though, it’s not important. I know you’re – well, it’snot necessarily something you’ve had a great experience with, and I… I don’thave any experience at all, so…” He stopped. “I’m rabbiting on, sorry.”

“Hey.” Jack made a slight motion as if to turn Sam’s face tohim. “What’s wrong? What’s bothering you? If this is about Nassau, I told youI’m not upset about that, remember?”

“I am,” Sam said, almost inaudibly. “I’m upset about it. Ibehaved like a… like a total boor, and it embarrasses me every time I thinkabout it, and I… I shouldn’t have. I should have just… I don’t know. Done itdifferently.”

Jack blinked. “What? You were a bloody basket case. Besides,you’re beating yourself up over – what, telling me that you wanted me? Jesus,Sam. That’s the sweetest thing that anyone’s ever done in the state that youwere in. It’s not like I did anything to tell you or help you out or… God. Youreally think I’d be upset about that?”

“Like I said, maybe you weren’t, but…” Sam stared intentlyat the worn wood of the railing. “I should have known better.”

“Hey. Hey.” Jackmoved to grab his hand, briefly and fiercely. “Is that really what’s beeneating you up this whole time? Just that?”

“Well, no.” Sam blew out a slow breath. “I just hate thethought that I’ve ever hurt you in any way, and if you – ” He stopped again.“Look, if you really don’t want to, well, go in that direction, I’ll live withit. I swear. If it’s what you want.”

Jack looked as if he’d been hit over the head with a pavingstone. “Wh – you think I don’t want you? Physically?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said, in a very small voice. “Maybe youwere just humoring me and I was the one making you uncomfortable again.”

Jack took several moments to collect himself, almost lookingas if he might laugh, but refraining from it in the name of sparing Sam’sfeelings. “Sam,” he said at last, very gently. “Bloody hell, you don’t want to hurt me? You’re the kindest person I’ve evermet. You forgive everybody, all the time, and you worry so much about whetheryou’re doing the right thing, and you never give yourself any credit. I… it’s askill I don’t even understand. I think I’ve hurt you more, eh? I still wonderwhy you’d want to leave home and put up with me.”

“Because I – ” Sam bit his tongue. What he might have beenabout to say was not a conversation for the deck of a ship, out in public, not likethis. “I… want to, all right? So, like I said. I’ll just not bring it up again,and we can – ”

“What?” Jack said again. “You think that’s what we shoulddo? Ignore it?”

“We don’t have much choice, do we?” Sam tried to shrug. “Bemore helpful, yeah?”

“Maybe, but… I don’t want you to take that to mean that Idon’t want you. Because I do. I just…” It was Jack’s turn to look hesitant. “Ireckoned it would be no good since Crouch was there anyway, and I don’t knowhow to show that, and I never have. Besides, a relationship, a realpartnership, isn’t about what one person wants all the time, and the otherperson having to crush their own feelings and thoughts down and never speakingup and never feeling they can have what they want. I don’t know much, but I dobloody know that. That’s not what I want for you. For us. I just wanted it – wheneverit did happen – to be perfect. And since I didn’t know enough to make itperfect, I just… didn’t say anything, and if that’s made you think I don’t wantit… you…. I’m sorry. Because I do.”

Sam looked up at him tentatively. “You – you do?”

“Of course I do,” Jack said, half-exasperatedly,half-tenderly. “I’ve never felt about – well, I’ve never felt this before, andit… it scares me too, eh? I have no bloody idea what I’m doing either. You evenbeing here seems like more than I deserve.”

Sam blinked again, biting a shy smile and thinking thatwhile he had wanted to hear this more than anything, it was really awful to doit in a place where he could not do what he wanted to do next, which was tograb Jack by the collar and kiss him cross-eyed. This new and excitinginformation, however, would also make their unavoidably chaste bunk-sharingeven more excruciating, if Jack might actually try flirting. Sam did not thinkhis heart was capable of withstanding that without giving out. Bloody hell, hejust really liked this boy. Sue him. “No way to get rid of Crouch,” he managed.“So we can’t get too carried away, eh?”

“No.” A faint smile tugged at the edges of Jack’s mouth.“You’re right. He’s obnoxious.”

Seeing some of the sailors giving them curious looks, sincethey’d been standing close together and speaking in such confidential tones,Sam felt rather hot around the ears and stepped quickly back. He did not wantto return to the Puke Palace just yet, and he was not sure he wanted to put hisself-control to such a test as standing there nonchalantly next to Jack withoutbeing able to do bleeding anything. Thisvoyage might actually kill him.

The next several days, therefore, were straight out of theDevil tempting Jesus in the desert. Crouch had gone topside for some fresh air,after which Sam and Jack barred the door and took full advantage of their firstfive minutes of privacy on the damn trip to date. They had just progressed fromkissing on the mouth, to kissing down necks and shoulders and chests, when thepestilential bastard started banging on the door and demanding to be let backin because he had forgotten some essential item of barrister existence,apparently. Jack was shirtless and Sam’s was well unbuttoned, they were bothbreathing as if they’d been chased by a coach-and-six, and Jack stomped acrossthe floor with an extremely aggrieved expression to grab the book from Crouch’sthings, open the door a crack, and shove it through. Crouch began to gripeabout this, whereupon Jack slammed the door again.

They were just trying to pick up where they had left offwhen Crouch was back, this time because he was cold and wanted an extrablanket. Jack was thus obliged to give him that as well, while Sam calculatedthe easiest method of killing him without raising suspicion or making a mess. “Smotherhim in his sleep?”

“Too much work to smother someone in their sleep,” Jacksaid, with the air of someone who had tried to do exactly that at some point.Sam decided he would rather not know. “I’d suggest we’d get back to it, but – ”

“Aye, the mood’s been lost.” Sam blew out a rumpled breathand sat dejectedly on the rickety chair. “I knew there was a reason I hatedsailing.”

Jack grinned. “I don’t think this was it.”

“Hush,” Sam said. “It was so.”

Jack grinned again, turning away to pull his shirt back on,which Sam regarded with a mournful expression. Much as he approved of the factthat they were now actually doing something with all this pent-up interest, itmight be even worse if they were constantly allowed to snatch moments here andthere, but never full satisfaction. Crouch would need his wart plaster orwhat-bloody-ever else, or they might forget to bar the door, or they could becaught, or… paying customers or not, this wasn’t something Sam wanted the crewknowing. Outside his family and home, this was still the sin that politesociety considered too depraved even to be spoken of, and men could be hangedif the Navy caught them doing it. Attitudes at large were not generally moretolerant. For their own safety, they had to be discreet.

They thus struggled through the next few days in thisheightened state of awareness, which obliged Sam to think about the leasttitillating subjects he possibly could in a desperate attempt not to beobvious. Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, they were again confined to thecabin, and after endless rounds of Crouch sneezing, clicking, tutting, andotherwise making Sam very seriously consider strangling him, he couldn’t takeit anymore. He jerked his head at Jack, and they slithered out of the cabin,down the gantry, and into the sheltered spot behind a lashed canvas, with someboxes and barrels heaped up behind. There was no privacy from being overheard,if they were indelicate enough to make noise, but at least they could not bespotted. With a brief, daring look at the canvas, Jack sat down on one of theboxes and cocked a wicked eyebrow at Sam, who perched straightaway on his lap.Before he could bother talking himself out of it, Jack was kissing him.

To Sam, who existed in a more or less constant low-levelstate of wanting to kiss Jack, this was utterly delightful and he had noobjection whatsoever. He gripped Jack’s face with both hands as Jack’s armscame around his waist, and they thus managed to get in close to ten wholeminutes of blissful, Crouch-free, amorous solitude. If you could ignore thestrong smell of pickled herring and tobacco drifting up from the casks, it wasalmost perfect.

Unfortunately, they did have to return to their cabin beforeany of the sailors came down to check the cargo, or before things could getmuch more carried away, and that night was particularly agonizing. Crouch hadexcused himself to visit the head (there was a pot in the corner for numberone, but number two required a trip out to the deck) and the instant he wasgone, Jack wrapped his arm around Sam, pulled him close, and kissed the nape ofhis neck, rolling his hips snugly up against Sam’s backside and running a handdown his thigh. “Bets on how long he takes?”

Sam emitted a small squeak.

“Aye, could be a while. Climbing out there when it’s dark,the business, then back…” Jack moved his hand deliberately lower. “Might bejust me and you here, eh?”

“Talking about Edward Crouch’s loo habits is not alluring,”Sam managed. Even that was slightly too horrifying for him to picture in anattempt to restrain the situation, which he was quite sure Jack was well awareof. (And actively encouraging, damn him.) He uttered another strangled noise asJack nipped lightly at the shell of his ear, then mused deliberate kissesacross his neck and onto his shoulder. “You’re – very evil, you know.”

“Mm-hmm.” Jack sounded horribly self-satisfied, but with atimbre of easy amusement in his voice that, despite the fact of this being a lessthan ideal time for it, made Sam turn to warm jelly. He would do just aboutanything to hear that sound again, to know that he had been the cause of it,that Jack was happy and comfortable enough to let his guard down like that. Thenhe nuzzled at Sam again, kissing the underside of his jaw as his hand continuedits explorations, and Sam wriggled in abject fear of actually expiring on thespot. Jack chuckled into his ear. “Christ, you’re such a bloody ball ofnerves.”

“That’s your fault.” Sam made another interesting registerof noise as Jack got really familiar.“Right now at least. Oh God.”

Jack ghosted another laugh against his warm skin, bodiesentwined in the small bunk, sleepy and comfortable and tangled together, a glowthat could not be entirely dispelled even when Crouch made his inevitablereappearance. That, then, was how Sam made it the rest of the crossing. Noteven the stolen moments, but the joy.

They arrived in Glasgow on a cool, drizzly day in the lastweek of August; indeed, if it was supposed to be summer, there was no evidencethat Scotland was aware of it. They berthed at Newport, since the River Clydewas too shallow for large ships to navigate all the way up to the city, andtook the coach in, thus to get their first look at their new homeland. Glasgowwas a jumbled stone maze, its steep, muddy streets crowded with a jostling throng of people, and much as he tried, Sam could not understand a single thinganyone said. Jack, who had more experience with strong regional accents, wasobliged to serve as translator, though even he struggled at points. They werefinally offloaded at a traveler’s inn, shamelessly paid double to get their ownroom, and shut the door at long bloody last. Sam kept waiting for the floor tomove under his feet, as it felt unnaturally still and solid after close to twomonths at sea. “Well, we’re… we’re here,” he said. “Jesus.”

“Aye.” Jack smiled at him. “We made it. Privacy, eh?”

“I’m too tired to do anything more than eat a meal thatisn’t hardtack and sleep on a bed that doesn’t rock and doesn’t have EdwardCrouch six feet away.” Sam was already yawning so hard that his jaw cracked. “Imight even actually just go to sleep if supper isn’t soon.”

He indeed ended up sleeping close to fourteen hours, and wasstill dozing on Jack’s shoulder as they set off the next morning in thestagecoach to Edinburgh, just under fifty miles east. A messenger on a fasthorse could theoretically have made this in one day, but as stagecoaches wereone of the most horrendously inefficient forms of transportation known tomankind, they would be lucky if they got so far as Linlithgow tonight. Therewere a few times, as they bogged along roads only discernible as roads becausethe mud there was flatter than to the surrounding sides, that Sam thought theymight make better time if they got out and walked. Nobody had been lying aboutthe weather, unfortunately. It was piss.

In all, it took them three days to get to Edinburgh, wherethey finally settled into a rented room near the Royal Mile and prepared toofficially go by the university and enroll Jack as a candidate for the exam andother such administration, tomorrow.They were once more too exhausted to do anything then collapse into a vaguelyhorizontal position, totally oblivious to the muffled banging and shouting fromthe inn’s taproom below. Upon their very belated awakening, Sam remembered towrite a letter and put it on the coach headed back to Glasgow and the shipsscheduled for the last crossing of the season. If all went well, his familywould know sometime this year that they had made it safely.

Jack took the entrance exam on a crisp and sunnymid-September day, likely the only one they would get all autumn, while Sam satwith a book in a coffee shop a few streets away and tried not to act as ifthere was a hedgehog in his chair. It was a three-hour exam, and he counted itoff by the bongs of the (numerous) church bells, waiting tensely until a veryhaggard-looking Jack finally came in and bought the largest size cup that theestablishment offered. “Bloody fucking hell,” he said, collapsing into the seatnext to Sam and rubbing both hands over his eyes. “I’m sure I failed every partof that. They’ll probably have to invent the Jack Bellamy as a new mark forcandidate ineptitude.”

“Hush,” Sam said. “I’m sure you were brilliant.”

“Only because you’ve been helping.” Jack gave him a faint,wry smile. “Look, if – well, likely when– I don’t get in, we could… I mean, it’s a bit late to return to theAmericas this year, and I don’t want to spend another six weeks on a ship. Wecould stay here anyway and see what comes up, or…” He paused, shaking his head.“I didn’t even realize how much I wanted this until I’m convinced I can’t… thiswas stupid. This was stupid.”

“Hush,” Sam said again, more ferociously. Doubting himselfwas all well and good, but he would not permit Jack to do it. “You’ve workedyour arse off for this. You were competing against boys who had private tutorsand expensive school places all their lives. And you learned enough to be areputable candidate in what, not quite a year? Whatever ultimately happens,that’s amazing, all right? It’s bloody amazing.”

Jack gave him another smile, this one softer and moretender, and they finished their coffee and headed back to their room. Theresults would be posted at the end of the week, and while Sam might haveoffered to distract Jack, there was no distracting him. He sat all hours at thedesk and obsessively reviewed practice questions and scribbled-on tracts andall the books he had brought over from Philadelphia, muttering about variousmedical miscellany that Sam only rarely understood. It was clear that therewould be no reasoning with him or reaching him until the verdict was passed,and Sam felt a sort of anxiety by association, trying to calculate the oddsthat a distinguished establishment such as this would ever accept someone likeJack into their ranks. He can do it. Iknow he can do it. Just give him a chance.

On Saturday morning, there was a knock on the door from theinn’s manservant with a letter for Mr. Bellamy, and since Jack had gone green,Sam was obliged to take it and hand over a halfpenny. His hands shook as heregarded the handsome wax seal of the university, incised with sigil and motto.“Do you want me to open it?”

Jack shook his head, looking as if he might be sick if heopened his mouth. Then he got up, practically snatched it out of Sam’s hands,and tore it open, as if determined to rip off the scab and get it over with.His eyes remained fixed on the paper, unblinking, face dead white. Finally, hemade a sound like a small animal being stepped on.

“What?” Sam was about to have kittens. “Jesus, what? Didthey – Jack, you did your best, maybe they can let you sit the exam again inspring, we can stay and try some more – ”

Jack uttered the same sound again and shoved the letter atSam, who took it tentatively. He looked down at it, and his eyes went verywide. “O… oh. Oh.”

“You think…” Jack managed, speaking in a hoarse croak. “Youthink they mixed me up with someone else?”

“Unless there just happened to be another Jack Bellamystaying here, I…” The paper rattled in Sam’s hands. “They want to know ifyou’ll accept your place by the end of the week following. Tuition fee threeguineas, payable upon registration. Oh my god.”

“Three guineas?” Jack looked wild. “I – I don’t – Christ, Iforgot, I – ”

“Hush,” Sam said, for the several-odd time recently. “Jack,you got in. You got in. I have money,remember? We have money. That’s not a problem. You got in, I’m so proud of you.I am so proud of you.” His throat felt thick, eyes bright and stinging, hismouth unable to stop stretching itself in an absolutely lunatic grin. “You got in!”

Jack tried to say something, utterly failed, reached out,and crushed Sam in his arms, the two of them clinging together so ferociouslythat Sam thought they might mold into one, They spun across the floor, stopped,and kissed harder than they ever had, still giggling with breathless disbelief,elated and giddy and gulping for air and not wanting to pinch themselves, notwanting to wake up. Toppled onto the bed together, and moved thoroughly andtenderly and carefully to the road they had always gotten a few steps down, butnever any further. This time, though, knowing that they were staying, that thiswas real, they’d done it, that they were beginning something strange and solidand true, there was no reason to stop the journey, only to go forward, and toexplore everything that awaited. So Sam Jones (finally, bloody finally) losthis virginity to the man he loved, and discovered that he was right. His heartcould not possibly bear it.

After, as they were lying entangled and naked and vaguelyaware that it was quite a heathen hour to still be in bed, and even more soconsidering their recent activities, they could not bring themselves to care.Sam wriggled up next to Jack, put his head on his chest, and before he couldstop himself, he whispered, “I love you.”

Jack went completely frozen, so quickly that Sam wanted tobite back the words while they had barely left his tongue. He cringed, alreadycastigating himself for ruining the mood so thoroughly, and apologies cametumbling after. “Jack? Jack. I’m – I’m sorry, I – just please ignore that ifyou – I didn’t mean to insult you, I just… Jack, I didn’t…”

“Jesus,” Jack said, even more hoarsely than before, when Sam’sbabbling had finally trailed off into mortified silence. “You know, I don’t…how could you ever think that it would insult… you… you beautiful, generous,sweet, bright, brave soul, I just… I don’t… I don’t.” He shook his head, unableto finish his thought. Finally he managed, “Don’t understand how this could bereal. All of this. It. This world. With you.”

Sam blinked. “You’re not… angry?”

“Why on earth,” Jack said, reaching up to tangle his handthrough Sam’s loosened hair, “would I be angry with you? Bloody hell, Jones.Bloody hell. You’re going to kill meone of these days, I swear.”

“Aye, well.” Sam looked down. One more time, a small smilebegan to break free. “I think you’re going to return the favor.”

(They were horribly late to breakfast.)

[thejivechild]

Year Three, What a Feat

What up homie,

It’s me again, back to give you your annual fill on all things good, bad and probably boring. It’s weird how long you’ve been gone. It feels like a lifetime in some moments and no time in others, then I look up and realize “three years, so much has happened.” It’s an odd sensation, feeling like days creep by but years vanish in the blink of an eye. Yet here we are, doing our best to look like we’re successful - fake it til you make it, right? Right! I was going to go back and read what I wrote you last year, but I figured it didn’t matter much. So here we go, sorry if any of what I tell you is simply a reiteration of last year’s letter. I’ll borrow from a popular paradigm because I think I’m wed to the idea of you coming back some day. Without further ado, something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue.

Something Old: I told you last year was my 1L year, right? Well I finished that in typical basement boy fashion, smoove. It didn’t feel pretty or glamorous when I was in the library reading until my head hurt, but the end result was well worth it and I got my first year of law school outta the way, THANK. GOD. Henry recently met a law student in NYC who described 1L year as “academic hazing” and I couldn’t agree more. It was like being in high school all over again, but with adults who like to use bigger words. I won’t front like I didn’t flex the lexicon at times, but can you blame me?! All in all it was really a massive learning experience. I did my best to bridge the gap in knowledge that I came in with and to ride the learning curve, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t stressful. Onwards and upwards!

Henry remained in Iraq for another year. He started his juice business, er I started it as the idea man (He owes me royalty payments!), and it took off. He’s mastering the art of social media and millennial marketing, which is a massively important skill to have in this day and age. On a different note, he took Zenry to new levels. From telling me he was studying stoicism, to his newfound obsession with healthy diet and living, he did his best to transform into a modern ascetic, and he did it pretty well. Don’t let any of this fool you though, he’s still the same Henry that you man marked in possession drills at Seneca park. Still ratchet as ever, still LITTLE bro, but would we love him if he wasn’t?

Afrika kept his head down and plugged away at success silently and smoothly. He just finished his masters and I’ll be damned if the only notification I got was a hilarious snapchat with the caption “just finished my last presentation.” It’s funny how little he’s changed (or any of us, for that matter) since you’ve been gone. He went to Afrika for most of the summer and did this program called “Kick for Life,” I think. If I butchered the name I apologize, but you can guess what it was from my description. It sucked not having him around all summer, but the snaps made me want to go to Afrika, and I plan to!

Snat and the Kennison house remained the exact same. A band of misfits if I’ve ever seen one, but how on earth could we expect different? Their humble abode remained the place to be on Friday and Saturday nights and like we basement boys have always done, they made it their own unique experience that was unlike any other on earth. Snat continued in “medical sales” if that’s an apt description of what he does - I still don’t really know, and I’m not sure he does either. He wears scrubs, fitting, but he’s certainly no doctor. Doctor of Destruction, maybe. He won awards for whatever the hell he does, took some trips to LA and got medals. I really don’t understand it lol but all success is good success!

Ham and I fell outta touch to a degree, but not for any real reason. I go MIA in Lexington when school gets hectic, so it’s almost entirely my fault, but he knows and understands and doesn’t hold it against me. I was there for his bday (of course) and it was a lot of fun and felt like I hadn’t been gone for a minute. Same inside jokes, same antics, same squad. I pray to god that never changes.

All in all the crew continues to remain largely intact. Life gets in the way sometimes, but rest assured that none of us have forgotten where we came from. It’s still basement boys for life. Thuggish as ever, prettier than before, breaking hearts and chasing dreams haha.

Something New: I deviated from the legal path, albeit temporarily and slightly. I’ve decided to pursue a JD/MA and get my masters in International Relations. It added a year (don’t remind me) to my academic tenure, but I think the end will be well worth the means, ya feel me? It’s putting me closer to a career in international law and eventually world domination. Getting closer to that penthouse! I just finished my first semester, killed it in the classroom, and made some new friends. Truth be told, the extra year sounded awful but I’m halfway through and don’t regret it at all. But enough about me…

Henry’s back in the states! First time in two years. He came back, surprised his mom, then got surprised by me a couple days later. It was long overdue and I think (I know) he missed the freedom that we cherish in the Western world. He left the juice biz and decided to become a #ProReader (his words, not mine). Sadly, his taste in literature is limited to “how to become a millionaire” self-help books, earning him the nickname “self-help henry” or “SHH” for short. I like it because sometimes you just want to tell him “shh” when he goes on his rants about… who knows. That being said, he’s on a real cultural adventure. I think he’s endeavored to see, smell, touch and taste more of the world than he would have had he stayed in the states after school. I hate to mention Drake, but for SHH it fits; he’s trying to live “more life” and he’s succeeding. But despite that, he’s still the little kid who couldn’t hit a long ball to save his life, don’t let him tell you different.

I sort of gave it away, but Afrika is finished with school - for now. He’s toyed with the idea of law school (I told him not to go) and with the idea of a master’s in International Relations (I told him to definitely go) but for now he’s still moving in silence and success. He and I are working on a lengthy research paper and the goal is to get it published in some scholarly journal in the future. Not a ton of new, but certainly priming for massive success in the future.

Snat, oh Snat, Snat’s perhaps made the biggest move of any of us. The child moved to Warshington DC. I STILL don’t know what the kid does for a living, but it took him to our nation’s capital. I think it’s great that he finally spread his wings and got outta town. I visited him recently when I was in DC for a conference and soaked up a little of his new life. It was cool. He lives in a swanky apartment complex in a nice part of town and wears scrubs to work. Most of his neighbors probably think he’s a doctor and I’m sure he’s in no hurry to disprove that theory, but I’m not hating. I told him to get a raise so that when I graduate we can be roommates (again, coming for that penthouse). He and Mcaddams are still a love story for the ages. Still posting the cheesiest pictures online and conjoined at the hip, even from hundreds of miles away! It’s a site to behold haha, but they’re happy which is all that matters. I drop the occasional comment riddled with unnecessary emojis and exclamation marks on their FB photos.

Sadly, I can’t tell you how much new has gone on in Ham’s life, but I do know that he’s moved up the corporate ladder. I want to say he’s some sort of manager now, you know, still living the life of a team captain just in a different arena.

I should mention the coolest thing (IMO) that we did this year. Two nights before Thanksgiving I was in the shower when I had an epiphany. “People always play Thanksgiving morning football games,” I thought “we should do a soccer game.” A minute or so later it hit me again, “we should do it in honor of Spotie. Eventually, we should make it a charity game.” And on and on and on. I was on a roll and it just made so much sense. We (Me, afrika, snat, henry and several others) put a plan into motion and on Thanksgiving morning we held the first ever Nick Spaulding Memorial Soccer Game at, you guessed it, Seneca Park. It was great. So many people showed up and played, cheered and braved the ice cold for you. Some of us came out of retirement, some of us rose from the dead, some of us played in what probably felt like slow motion, but all of us had fun. It was, is and will surely always be a highlight of this year and many to come. It was grassroots and unorganized, but it laid the foundation for what is going to become an incredible annual event, I promise. Check my FB and see how many people showed love!

Optimism over everything. Life is going pretty well on all fronts. There’s no huge drama to report, no heartbreak or endless sadness. There have been some utterly devastating moments, but those aren’t to overshadow the unbreakable happiness and the ties that can’t and won’t ever be undone. People grow up, people grow out and people grow apart, but the latter certainly isn’t us. We’ve all grown up and grown out in many ways but we haven’t grown apart. Time may pass and we may not speak daily, but the same principles apply and the same standards are adhered to. We’ve all got each other’s backs no matter where in the world or when in time something comes up. It’s actually insane to think about. Nothing could break these ties, no force on earth or in heaven has that kind of strength.

Something Borrowed: We’ve all reached a point where life has become real, but that’s not to say that it’s hardened us or erased memories of our pasts. I won’t speak for everyone, but sometimes I wake up mad. Sometimes I wake up sad. Sometimes I wake up and the last thing on earth I want to do is go exercise, or go to class, or face the day. Sometimes I wonder why any of this ever happened to me, or how it could have. I often think “I’m too fucking smart to have let things play out the way they did.” It’s moments like that when I’m most humbled. It’s moments like that when I realize that some things are just out of my hands. It’s moments like that when I remember that I’m human and that my struggles and my flaws are as visceral and real as anybody else’s. Those kinds of moments scare me. It’s a delicate balance between survivor’s guilt and self-perceived invincibility. Sometimes I cry and ask myself why it wasn’t me. Sometimes I grin and think “I survived that, how the hell could this stop me?” Sometimes I don’t think about it at all, because it doesn’t make any sense. One thing stays consistent though, through all of those emotions I learn. I learn about myself and what I’m made of and what I can and can’t handle. It has certainly raised my self-awareness and for that I am thankful.

If I had to describe the past three years in one word I’d say they’ve been incredibly educational. Academically, sure, but I’ve learned a lot of intangibles as well. I’ve learned that there are certain, unavoidable truths that we’ve all got to come to terms with. For example: it’s entirely possible that any given day can be the worst day of your life. It’s absolutely terrifying how fragile this existence is and how temporary. But in the same vein, there exists a light in all of us. A light that cannot be extinguished unless we ourselves choose to do so. And that is perhaps the most beautiful thing. Because while any given day can be the worst of your life, the chances are equally likely, if not better, that any given day can also be the best day of your life.

Something Blue: So instead of today and all subsequent December 20th’s being the hardest days of my year I’m vowing to make them the easiest days of my year. I vow to make them full of nothing but happiness and laughter and joy and remembrance. I do it in your name and your likeness. I do it for Momma Ros and Dr. Spauld who, although they never dreamed they’d have to, now live on in your image. They now perpetuate your legacy and your memory, as we all do. I know I live in your shoes when I stand up for what I believe is right and unashamedly wear my heart on my sleeve, or when I stumble into something delicate like a clumsy, lovable bull in a china shop. I’m not religious, you know that, but before I do anything big I say a prayer for success. Not to god, but to you, my brother. I always ask you to send a little extra basement boyness my way and to give me a little help from the other side. I walk with my chin held high knowing that I’ve got the greatest good luck charm in the universe and my best friend on my side. I smile through the tears, knowing that my ambition, our ambition, far exceeds my talent but that it will be the driving force behind the change that WE affect. There’s something holy about the connection we have, even after all these years. There’s something incredibly about the intangible and invisible. I know it’s there, I feel it every day. You know it’s there, you always send it my way. It’s comforting knowing that no matter what life throws at me I’ve got a partner in crime. So, I laugh when I want to cry, I joke when I want to give up, I grin when things get harder and I welcome every challenge that comes my way. I don’t flinch at the thought of studying until 2 in the morning, or running until I can’t feel my legs. Bring it fucking on. Because I know that when I’ve fought until I can’t fight anymore, when I’ve given everything I have and when I think I can no longer go on, well that’s when you come in. That’s when you give me that little bit of strength, that nobody else has. That’s when you serve that shot of extraterrestrial espresso that fuels me. Someone asked me how I did it earlier this year, where my drive came from. I smiled and simply replied “my ambition is wicked,” and it is. OUR ambition is wicked.

After three years I can comfortably say that my life is great. I can comfortably say that we’ve all grown and learned and matured in immeasurable ways. I can comfortably tell you that we’re all going to be fine. We’ve gone different ways, but our ties have remained constant and strong. The sun rises and sets every day and each passing day brings us all one day closer to that thugs mansion reunion that we all so desperately yearn for. Although each new day brings new experiences and new reasons to be thankful we don’t forget about you. We don’t cease to make you proud nor do we move past you. Your memory lives on in all of us, even if we don’t actively express it. We work harder, stay up later and get up earlier because we’re all trying to build our own penthouse apartments, our own sky-high, iced out paradises in the sky. Do you want know why I’m so obsessed with penthouses? Why I’ve talked about them for the past three years? Not because it signifies wealth, or achievement, or luxury but because it’ll put me that much fucking closer to you. I love you, my brother. I can’t wait to see you again, but I promise I won’t come a minute early. I won’t come til I’ve left my legacy and til I’ve made you proud. Be good up there and don’t forget about me, I promise I won’t forget about you. I won’t let people forget about you. Take care and have a good year. I’ll be back next year with another letter. Tell the post-man to expect it.

XX XII XIV

Your Brother

[nightingveilxo]

How Do You Keep Sherlock Holmes Alive? You Make Him A Monster.

“He wasn't busy, he just... sometimes he struggled to fit in. He couldn't switch off, couldn't relax. He just struggled with people, I think. Yet the video... it showed the other side to him. He was rude, yeah. Arrogant. Apparently lacking in anything resembling empathy. But I'd forgotten just how funny he could be. He was so charming. So... human. It's bizarre because most people would say he was the most inhuman person they'd ever met. But he wasn't. He was everything a good person should be.“

TGG

JOHN (switching off the phone): Try and remember there’s a woman here who might die. SHERLOCK: What for? (He looks up at John.) SHERLOCK: This hospital’s full of people dying, Doctor. Why don’t you go and cry by their bedside and see what good it does them? (John looks away in disbelief. Unmoved, Sherlock looks back into the microscope but just then the computer beeps a result.)

SHERLOCK: People have died. JIM: That’s what people DO! (He screams the last word furiously, his personality changing in an instant.)

ASiB

On another occasion, two little girls are sitting together on one of the dining chairs while Sherlock paces in front of the fireplace. LITTLE GIRL: They wouldn’t let us see Granddad when he was dead. Is that ’cause he’d gone to heaven? SHERLOCK: People don’t really go to heaven when they die. They’re taken to a special room and burned. (Like Mary supposedly is in T6T, but Sherlock was supposedly buried after TRF. Odd...) (The two girls look at each other in distress.) JOHN (reprovingly): Sherlock ...

LESTRADE (looking at a bag of evidence): Well, according to the flight details, this man was checked in on board. Inside his coat he’s got a stub from his boarding pass, napkins from the flight, even one of those special biscuits. Here’s his passport stamped in Berlin Airport. So this man should have died in a plane crash in Germany yesterday but instead he’s in a car boot in Southwark. (Like Sherlock in TAB and TLD) JOHN: Lucky escape(!) LESTRADE (to Sherlock): Any ideas? SHERLOCK (examining the man’s hand with his magnifier): Eight, so far. (He straightens up and looks at the body again, then frowns momentarily.) SHERLOCK: Okay, four ideas. (He turns to Lestrade and looks down at the passport and the ticket stub of the passenger, John Coniston, who was meant to be travelling on Flyaway Airways [oh, good invented name, production guys(!)]. Straightening up again, he gazes up into the sky.) SHERLOCK: Maybe two ideas. (The shadow of a passenger jet passes overhead.)

In the street, Sherlock is doubled over with John on his back half–strangling him. John’s face is contorted with pent-up anger and frustration, and Sherlock is struggling to pull his hands off him. SHERLOCK (half-choking): Okay! I think we’re done now, John. JOHN (savagely): You wanna remember, Sherlock: I was a soldier. I killed people. SHERLOCK: You were a doctor! JOHN: I had bad days! (John, chill, son.)

MYCROFT: We’re in a morgue. There’s only so much damage you can do. (Sherlock inhales deeply and then blows the smoke out again.) MYCROFT: How did you know she was dead? SHERLOCK: She had an item in her possession, one she said her life depended on. She chose to give it up. (He takes another drag on his cigarette.) MYCROFT: Where is this item now? (Sherlock looks round at the sound of sobbing. A family of three people is standing on the other side of the doors at the end of the corridor, cuddled together and clearly grieving the death of someone close to them. Sherlock and his brother turn to look at the family.) SHERLOCK: Look at them. They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there’s something wrong with us? MYCROFT: All lives end. All hearts are broken. (He looks round at his brother.) Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock.

THoB

JOHN: Um, Henry, your parents both died and you were, what, seven years old? (Henry is concentrating on taking his first drag on his cigarette. As he exhales his first lungful, Sherlock stands up and steps closer to him.) HENRY: I know. That ... my ... (He stops as Sherlock leans into the smoke drifting up from the cigarette and from Henry’s mouth and breathes in deeply and noisily through his nose. Having sucked up most of the smoke, he sits down again and breathes out, whining quietly in pleasure.) JOHN (trying hard to ignore him): That must be a ... quite a trauma. Have you ever thought that maybe you invented this story, this ... (Henry has exhaled another lungful of smoke and Sherlock dives in to noisily hoover up the smoke again. John pauses patiently until he sits down again.) JOHN: ... to account for it?

BARRYMORE: You’re one of the conspiracy lot, aren’t you? (He grins as Sherlock rolls his eyes.) BARRYMORE: Well, then, go ahead, seek them out: the monsters, the death rays, the aliens. SHERLOCK (nonchalantly): Have you got any of those? (Now it’s Barrymore’s turn to roll his eyes.) SHERLOCK: Oh, just wondering.

SHERLOCK: The sugar, yes. It’s a simple process of elimination. I saw the hound – saw it as my imagination expected me to see it: a genetically engineered monster. But I knew I couldn’t believe the evidence of my own eyes, so there were seven possible reasons for it, the most possible being narcotics. (Narcotics = monster.)

JOHN: Yes, you said: fear. Sherlock Holmes got scared. You said. (Sherlock catches him up, takes hold of his arm and pulls him round to face him.) SHERLOCK: No-no-no, it was more than that, John. It was doubt. I felt doubt. I’ve always been able to trust my senses, the evidence of my own eyes, until last night. JOHN: You can’t actually believe that you saw some kind of monster. SHERLOCK: No, I can’t believe that. (He grins bitterly for a moment.) But I did see it, so the question is: how? How? JOHN: Yes. Yeah, right, good. So you’ve got something to go on, then? Good luck with that. (Doubt, not fear = monster)

MHR

When we see real doubt begin to take hold. For Sherlock, and John.

TSOT

This is when Mofftiss really starts integrating Rathbone/Bruce versions of the stories into the Sherlock series, and there are items in the box John receives that directly correlate to those versions. Terror By Night, Trains, & Sherlock ( x )

FLASHBACK.  John’s blog entry entitled “The Bloody Guardsman” drifts across the screen for a moment, then fades to a view of Sherlock standing in the living room of 221B looking at his information wall behind the sofa.  He turns to where Mary is sitting at the dining table and John is sitting in his armchair and looking at his phone. [That case was June 29th, but John and Mary’s invitation will read May, the sign at the wedding has no date, and John’s blog entry is in August. x ] SHERLOCK: Need to work on your half of the church, Mary.  Looking a bit thin. MARY (smiling): Ah, orphan’s lot. Friends – that’s all I have.  Lots of friends. (We get a glimpse of the paperwork on the wall and realise that Sherlock is organising the hell out of the wedding.  There is a list of things which need to be done, all of them ticked off, and the wall is divided into areas which are headed, “Transport,” “Catering,” “Rehearsal,” “Wine,” and probably other items too.  On the table beside Mary is a cardboard 3D model of the reception venue.) [Transport, not transportation….] SHERLOCK: Schedule the organ music to begin at precisely 11.48. MARY: But the rehearsal’s not for another two weeks.  Just calm down. SHERLOCK: Calm?  I am calm.  I’m extremely calm. MARY: Let’s get back to the reception, come on. (He walks over to the table.) MARY (handing him an RSVP card): John’s cousin.  Top table? SHERLOCK (looking at the card): Hmm. Hates you. Can’t even bear to think about you. MARY (looking up at him): Seriously? SHERLOCK: Second class post, cheap card … (he sniffs it and grimaces) … bought at a petrol station.  Look at the stamp: three attempts at licking. She’s obviously unconsciously retaining saliva. MARY: Ah.  (Over her shoulder to John) Let’s stick her by the bogs. [Transcriber’s note: ‘bogs’ is a slang word for ‘toilets.’] SHERLOCK: Oh yes. (He sits down.  Mary leans closer to him.) MARY: Who else hates me? (Instantly Sherlock hands her a sheet of paper.  There’s a long list of names on it.) MARY: Oh great – thanks(!) JOHN (looking at his phone): Priceless painting nicked.  Looks interesting. [Same idea as TRF.] MARY (looking at paperwork on the table): Table four … SHERLOCK: Done. JOHN (chuckling at something on his screen): “My husband is three people.” MARY: Table five. SHERLOCK (looking at a list): Major James Sholto.  Who he? MARY: Oh, John’s old commanding officer.  I don’t think he’s coming. JOHN: He’ll be there. MARY: Well, he needs to RSVP, then. JOHN (firmly): He’ll be there. MARY: Mmm … JOHN (reading from his phone): “My husband is three people.”  It’s interesting.  Says he has three distinct patterns of moles on his skin. SHERLOCK (standing up and speaking quick fire): Identical triplets – one in half a million births.  Solved it without leaving the flat.  Now, serviettes. (He squats down beside the coffee table, reaches under it and pulls out a tray with two serviettes folded into different shapes. He gestures to them as he looks up at Mary.) SHERLOCK: Swan, or Sydney Opera House? MARY: Where’d you learn to do that?! SHERLOCK (looking down): Many unexpected skills required in the field of criminal investigation … MARY: Fibbing, Sherlock. SHERLOCK: I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of … [The John alibi Post-It note.] MARY: I’m not John.  I can tell when you’re fibbing. SHERLOCK (exasperated): Okay – I learned it on YouTube. [MHR itself] MARY: Opera House, please. (She leans to one side and reaches into her trouser pocket.) MARY: Ooh, hang on.  I’m buzzing. (She takes out her phone and lifts it to her ear.) MARY: Hello? (She listens for a second, then stands up.) MARY: Oh, hi, Beth! (John’s eyes lift from his phone as Mary heads for the kitchen.) MARY (into phone): Yeah, yeah, don’t see why not. JOHN (standing up and looking at Sherlock): Actually, if that’s Beth, it’s probably for me too.  Hang on. (He heads for the kitchen, while Sherlock sits down on the floor cross-legged and facing the coffee table. In the kitchen, John smiles at Mary as he walks closer to her.  They talk quietly.) JOHN: He knows we don’t have a friend called Beth.  He’s gonna figure out that it’s code. [TLD burning up = cipher to be broken] MARY: He’s YouTube-ing serviettes. JOHN: He’s thorough. MARY: He’s terrified. JOHN: ’Course he’s not. MARY: Right, you know when you’re scared of something, you start wishing it sooner just to get it all going?  That’s what he’s doing. JOHN: Why would he be scared that we’re getting married?  It’s not gonna change anything – we’ll still do stuff. MARY: Well, you need to prove it to him.  I told you to find him a new case. JOHN: I’m trying. MARY: You need to run him, okay?  Show him it’s still the good old days. [You mean like a dog, Mary?] (She nods encouragingly to him.  He doesn’t immediately respond, and she nods again and gestures towards the living room.  He looks around, then turns and slowly starts towards the door between the kitchen and the living room.  Mary puts her hands on his back and shoves him forward. Sherlock is still sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table, his head propped up on one hand.  He briefly looks round at John, then turns back and gestures at what’s in front of him.  There are at least seven serviettes folded in Sydney Opera House shapes on the table, and sixteen or so more on the floor.) SHERLOCK: That just sort of … happened. (He looks round at John again, who frowns but then smiles.  Glancing back into the kitchen for a moment, he walks towards his friend.) JOHN: Sherlock, um … (Sherlock stands up.) JOHN: … mate … (Again he frowns briefly, perhaps wondering if he is overdoing it.) JOHN: I-I’ve … (He walks over to the dining table. Sherlock glances towards the kitchen where Mary can be heard talking as if she’s on a phone call, then they both sit down at the table.) JOHN: I’ve smelled eighteen different perfumes; I’ve sampled … (he stops to think) … nine different slices of cake which all tasted identical; I like the bridesmaids in purple … [TLD ends with cake.] SHERLOCK: Lilac. JOHN: … lilac.  Um, there are no more decisions left to make.  I don’t even understand the decisions that we have made.  I’m faking opinions and it’s exhausting, so please, before she comes back … (He glances towards the kitchen, activates his phone, clears his throat and holds the phone across the table.  The screen is showing Sherlock’s “Science of Deduction” website.) [Which isn’t even used anymore. They were using John’s blog by this point.] JOHN: … pick something. (Sherlock’s eyes flicker down to the screen a couple of times.) JOHN: Anything.  Pick one. SHERLOCK: Pick what? (John blinks a few times and then laughs.) JOHN: A case.  Your Inbox is bursting.  Just … get me out of here. SHERLOCK (leaning closer and speaking quietly): You want to go out on a case?  N-now? JOHN: Please, Sherlock, for me. [Don’t be dead.] (Sherlock takes the phone.) SHERLOCK (quietly): Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll get you out of this. [Again, alibi.] (He starts to flick through messages on his website.  After only a few seconds he finds something of interest.) SHERLOCK: Oh.

Transcript ( x )

TLD

At MI5, or wherever it is, Mycroft walks into the surveillance room, a grim look on his face.  Lady Smallwood is standing behind the computer desks. LADY SMALLWOOD: We can keep tabs.  You didn’t have to come in. MYCROFT: I was talking to the prime minister. LADY SMALLWOOD: Oh, I see. (Mycroft looks at the screens, and particularly at a camera watching Sherlock walking along a road.) MYCROFT: What’s he doing?  Why’s he just wandering about like a fool? LADY SMALLWOOD: She died, Mycroft.  He’s probably still in shock. MYCROFT: Everybody dies.  It’s the one thing human beings can be relied upon to do.  How can it still come as a surprise to people? LADY SMALLWOOD (turning to him): You sound cross.  Am I going to be taken away by security again? MYCROFT: I have, I think, apologised extensively. LADY SMALLWOOD: You haven’t made it up to me. MYCROFT: And how am I supposed to do that?

FAITH (offscreen): Sex. (Walking with her along Regent Street towards Piccadilly Circus, Sherlock looks round to her.  They are now each carrying a can of energy drink.) SHERLOCK: I’m sorry? FAITH: Sex.  How did you know I wasn’t ... getting any? SHERLOCK: It’s all about the blood. (Close-up of the bloodstain on the paper, which Sherlock now gestures to.) SHERLOCK: This one comes from the very first night.  You can see the pen marks over it.  I think you discovered that pain stimulated your memory, so you tried it again later.  I’m no expert, but I assume that since your lover failed to notice an increasing number of scars over a period of months, that the relationship was no longer intimate. [Pain stimulated your memory. So if this coma, trance, EMP or whatever, this is our queue that Sherlock’s pain is stimulating his memory.] FAITH: How do you know he didn’t notice? SHERLOCK (shrugging): Oh, well, because he would have done something about it. FAITH: Would he? SHERLOCK: Wouldn’t he?  Isn’t that what you people do? FAITH: Well, that’s interesting. SHERLOCK: What is? FAITH: The way you think. SHERLOCK: Superbly? FAITH: Sweetly. SHERLOCK: I’m not sweet; I’m just high.

MARY: So all he needed to do was find the first available lunchtime appointment with a female therapist within cycling distance of your surgery. (While she speaks, John turns his head away and rubs his nose briefly.) MARY: My God, he knows you. (The ambulance drives past the limo.) JOHN: No he doesn’t. MARY (smiling): I’m in your head, John.  You’re disagreeing with yourself. DRIVER: You ready, sir? (John is alone on the back seat.  He turns and looks at the blank space, speaking a little angrily.) JOHN: Yes, I am. (He turns to look into the rear-view mirror where the driver is watching him in the mirror through sunglasses.  The man turns his head away.) MARY (back sitting beside him): He is the cleverest man in the world, but he’s not a monster. JOHN (looking at her): Yeah, he is. MARY: Yeah, okay, all right, he is.  (She mock-shudders.)  Urgh! (She chuckles.) MARY (softly): But he’s our monster. (John turns away again.) In a TV studio, Smith smiles into the camera. SMITH (in a loud whisper): I’m a killer. (Outside the building, a large billboard is being carried away by a couple of people.  The image shows someone – presumably a man but the picture only shows him from the neck down – wearing a suit and tie and holding up a large sharp knife covered with blood.  To the right of the person, text reads: ROWBANK MEDIA A ROWBANK ORIGINAL SERIES ROUGE [in bright red] SERIES PREMIERE 8TH MARCH EXCLUSIVE TO PLAY TV Along the bottom of the poster it reads: ON MARCH 8, THE SECRET WILL BE UNLEASHED

SHERLOCK: I’m at the bottom of a pit and I’m still falling and ... (he shakes his head and clenches his eyes closed) ... I’m never climbing out. (Mrs Hudson turns away sadly and goes back to the kitchen.) SHERLOCK (standing up): I need you to know, John – I need you to see that up here ... (he gestures to his temples with both hands) ... I’ve still got it, so when I tell you that this ... (he walks to the side table to point to the open laptop) ... is the most dangerous, the most despicable human being that I have ever encountered; when I tell you that this-this monster must be ended, please remember where you’re standing, because ... you’re standing exactly where I said you would be two weeks ago. (Grimacing in pain, he slumps into a chair beside the table.) SHERLOCK (more quietly): I’m a mess; I’m in hell; but I am not wrong, not about him. (He points to Smith’s photo on the laptop.) JOHN: So what has all this got to do with me? (Folding his arms, he smiles humourlessly at Sherlock.) SHERLOCK (savagely, still looking at the photo): That creature, that rotting thing, is a living breathing coagulation of human evil, and if the only thing I ever do in this world is drive him out of it, then my life will not have been wasted. (Related to the wet paint discussion, because there is something dead rotting away. Culverton also talks about H.H. Holmes, the man who built a hotel to use as a deathtrap. Because, at this point, there is a bigger monster than Sherlock could ever be.

SMITH: Oh, I don’t know. (He pulls back the sheet on the table to reveal the head and shoulders of the corpse.  There is a Y-shaped cut, sewn up, in the chest.) SMITH: No, I’ve always found ’em quite pliable. (As he says the last word, he reaches out to the body – which we can now see is an elderly woman – and pulls her jaw down with his fingers.) JOHN: Don’t do that. SMITH (staring at the woman intensely): She’s fine.  She’s dead. (He smirks, still holding her jaw down and staring at her misty eyes and stained, misshapen teeth.  He finally releases her jaw.) SMITH: H. H. Holmes loved the dead.  He mass-produced ’em. SHERLOCK (probably for John’s benefit): Serial killer, active during the Chicago Fair. (He walks off and starts wandering around the mortuary.) SMITH (raising his head to look at John): D’you know what he did?  He built a hotel, a special hotel, just to kill people.  You know, with a hanging room, gas chamber, specially adapted furnace.  You know, like Sweeney Todd ... (He reaches out to the dead woman’s jaw and moves her mouth up and down with his fingers while he speaks through clenched teeth as if manipulating a ventriloquist’s dummy.) SMITH: ... without the pies! (He chuckles, releasing her and turning away.) SMITH: Stupid.  So stupid. (Instantly John grabs the sheet and pulls it over the woman’s face.) JOHN: Why stupid? SMITH: Well, all that effort.  You don’t build a beach if you want to hide a pebble; you just find a beach! [Insert the visual of Mycroft’s feet at the pebble beach at Musgrave in TFP] (Sherlock has stopped at the far end of the room and is leaning back against a sink.) SMITH: And if you wanna hide a murder, or wanna hide lots and lots of murders, just find a ... (He pauses for a moment then meets John’s eyes.) SMITH: ... hospital.  x )

TFP

MYCROFT (looking at him): Memories can resurface; wounds can re-open.  The roads we walk have demons beneath ... (he turns his gaze to Sherlock) ... and yours have been waiting for a very long time.  I never bullied you.  I used – at discrete intervals – potential trigger words to update myself as to your mental condition.  I was looking after you. SHERLOCK (softly, intensely): Why can’t I remember her? (Mycroft pauses for a moment, glancing in John’s direction but not looking at him.) MYCROFT: This is a private matter. SHERLOCK: John stays. (John had been about to get up but now looks across to Sherlock, surprised.  Mycroft leans forward in his chair.) MYCROFT (in a harsh whisper): This is family. SHERLOCK (loudly, firmly): That’s why he stays. (The brothers lock eyes for a long moment.  John smiles and lowers his head. Eventually Mycroft sits back.  John clears his throat.) JOHN: So there were three Holmes kids. (He pulls the lid off his pen and re-opens his notebook.) JOHN: What was the age gap? MYCROFT: Seven years between myself and Sherlock; one year between Sherlock and Eurus. (Capable of reprogramming people since age 5.)

MYCROFT: Musgrave. (Sherlock and John stand either side of him a few paces behind him.) MYCROFT: The ancestral home, where there was always honey for tea. (Not sugar or coffee)

MYCROFT: After that, our sister had to be taken away. SHERLOCK: Where? MYCROFT: Oh, some suitable place – or so everyone thought.  Not suitable enough, however.  She died there. JOHN: How? MYCROFT: She started another fire, one which she did not survive. SHERLOCK (firmly): This is a lie. (John looks towards Mycroft, who hesitates only for a moment.) MYCROFT: Yes.  It is also a kindness.  This is the story I told our parents to spare them further pain, and to account for the absence of an identifiable body. (Supposedly why Mummy and Daddy never said anything else or ever showed photos of Eurus? Pfft)

@monikakrasnorada @gosherlocked @ebaeschnbliah @swimmingfeelsinajohnlockianpool​ @loveismyrevolution

[melodiouswhite]

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde rewritten - Ch. 21

21. On rivalry and the art of courting

Jekyll hated this.

Hyde was clearly planning to seduce the man he loved and the blond did not like that at all.

He hated himself for being so possessive of the black-haired lawyer, when the latter wasn't even willing to take the step from friend to lover just yet.

“Oh come on, Jekyll”, Hyde taunted him, “In a way, he would still be doing it with you, even if he chose me! And vice versa!”

Jekyll gritted his teeth.

“Maybe. But you can't tell me that you wouldn't be jealous, if he would choose me instead of you to be his first.”

Hyde cackled: “Oh, Jekyll! Even if I had grown possessive of him at that point, I wouldn't be jealous. That would require that he was mine at some point! What I would feel in that case is envy. But look at you! If anyone is jealous, it's you! You see him as yours, but he doesn't even return your proclamations of love! The closest thing he comes to doing so, is saying 'I know'!”

The doctor's face darkened further. “Don't speak about love, as if you know what it is.”

His alter ego appeared on the next reflective surface.

“You're wrong, my dear soulmate. Just because I never loved, doesn't mean I don't know what it is. I'm a part of you, of course I'm familiar with the emotions that you feel.”

The blond whirled around to glare at him. “Prove it!”, he barked.

The brunette raised an eyebrow. “You sure you want me to give you a disgustingly sentimental explanation on that ridiculous sentiment?”, he scoffed.

“Yes, actually. Show me that you know what that words means!”, Jekyll challenged.

Hyde rolled his eyes and began. “It's when you put another person's needs and wishes above your own, think about them all the time and feel, as if they were the only thing that mattered in the world. You happy?”

Jekyll glowered at him. “That was just the general definition of love as everyone sees it. You obviously have no idea what you just said! It's plain by the derogative manner you said it in.”

Hyde raised his hands in defeat. “Well, maybe you're right. For once. But that doesn't matter, because I have no intention of ever finding out, what that revolting sentiment feels like.”

Now it was Jekyll's turn to be smug.

“Oh, but you are on the best way to find out!”, he taunted back.

Hyde's smirk vanished. “What do you mean?”

“You're already growing attached to him. His kind gestures towards you make you flustered. You're determined to make him yours. There is only one reason anyone would act like that.”

Hyde's face twisted into a ghastly grimace. “You're a fool, Jekyll. He is nothing but a toy to me. A toy I can play with, break it and throw it away, when I grow tired of it. He means nothing more to me than all the prostitutes I dab it up with.”

Jekyll's eyes grew equally hard. “Sure, Mr. Hyde. What ever helps you sleep at night. But soon enough you will find that I'm right.”

Hyde said nothing. He just stepped out of the mirror and took on a corporeal form.

Before Jekyll could ask what it was about, the smaller man grabbed him by the shoulder, slammed him against the nearest wall and kissed him savagely. The doctor growled and kissed back.

What followed was … a fierce battle for dominance, rather than a make-out session. There was biting, clawing, groping and yanking each other's hair.

“I hate you, Edward Hyde!”, Jekyll snarled, as soon as they had regained their breath.

Hyde laughed savagely: “I hate you too, Henry Jekyll.”

Then he stretched his arms.

“I hate you thiiis much!”

The next time Lady Summers was consulted by Dr. Jekyll, she saw at first sight, what the matter was.

Ich wusste es!, she thought angrily, Ich wusste, sie würden einen Wettstreit daraus machen!*

Even though she had learned to think in English, sometimes she slipped back into German, if she was angry enough.

He grew pale and gulped, when he saw her face. Good. So he knew that she knew.

“I thought I said something about turning this into a competition”, she hissed.

“It wasn't my intention!”, he immediately tried to defend himself.

“Excuses, excuses!”, she cried in outrage, “You made up your mind as soon as Hyde suggested it! It's always like this. You men are all the same! Once you set your eyes on someone, that person must be yours at all costs! Why is it so hard to find a man, who isn't greedy and possessive?!”

She pinched her nose in frustration and leaned back in her rocking chair.

“Agh! Well, I can't say that I'm surprised. Mr. Hyde is a vicious person and both of you have a … gay disposition. Sit down, Doctor. And then tell me, why you are here. If I read your mind, I fear that I'll get angrier than I already am.”

Dr. Jekyll looked genuinely ashamed.

Good.

That put her short Prussian temper a little at ease.

“Milady”, he said quietly, “I really don't see him as a trophy, you have to believe me-”

“I do”, she interrupted him calmly, “I know that you don't. And that is your saving grace, because I hate nothing more than people who regard others as objects to be owned. Mr. Utterson is not a thing, he's a living, breathing person.”

Of course she was aware, that he knew it, but she still felt the need to point it out.

She pointed a gloved finger at him. “That's directed towards both of you.”

“I don't think Hyde has been listening”, Jekyll said awkwardly.

“Well, then I'll just say it to his face next time I see him”, she retorted.

And if he talks any rubbish about Utterson just being a toy to him, I'll punch him, she added in her mind.

Dr. Jekyll spoke up: “I'm here, because I'm concerned. Hyde has been … more aggressive than usual. More forward too.”

“Towards you, I presume?”

“Yes.”

Now she was calm enough to read his mind. Oh dear … that is pretty pushy, she thought at the pictures.

“You seem to be handling it comparatively well, though”, she stated.

He sighed. “Yes and I owe that to you. Before you became my therapist, I was so weak. He overpowered me so easily, I feared that one day Henry Jekyll would disappear completely. I was depressed and had no strength of will. You gave it back to me and I will forever thank you for that.”

She frowned. “That sounds like you want to break off the therapy.”

“No, no!”, he cried, “I just wanted to thank you for saving my life in more ways than one. I guess I could say that you're my guardian angel, because you stepped into my life right when I needed you.”

She stared at him incredulously. Then she blushed lightly and broke into giggles.

Guardian angel? More like a fallen angel, but who cares!

“Oh, you cheeky devil!”, she giggled, “For someone who prefers men, you certainly know how to flatter a lady!”

He laughed awkwardly, then he sighed and continued: “Anyway, as I was saying earlier, Hyde is more aggressive and forward than usual. Now that I have my strength of will back, I can meet him on an equal level, but it still worries me.

He always loved to taunt me and make me angry, but lately he's been more infuriating that usual. He enrages me to the point, where I just want to strangle him. But there is something wrong about the way he taunts me. There is something wrong with him. I need to know what his problem is. Is it my fault? Because I don't stop confronting him about his own emotions and behaviour?”

That was a good question.

She read his mind and thought for a moment.

“Hmm … I would say yes and no. It is only partly, because you keep confronting him about his emotions. The main problem is that he has these emotions. He knows that you're right and that scares him. Mr. Hyde is used to being indifferent to everyone and everything but his own self and desires. But now that there is someone who treats him differently from everyone else, he feels things that are completely foreign to him.

Of course it's too early to say that he's falling in love. But he is feeling something new, something very profound. He's experiencing emotional attachment. And he's frightened of how intense and overwhelming it is.

Perhaps it has crossed your mind at some point. But deep down, everyone's scared of letting someone close and give them the power to hurt them. I'm no exception. But most people have the courage to risk it, in the hope of finding love and happiness. Mr. Hyde is not one of those people, at least not yet. Just like you said to him, he doesn't truly know what love is. All he knows is the heartache that you feel, when you love someone, the hopeless pining, yearning and daydreaming. He's scared of going through that.

Love requires a special kind of courage. A kind of courage that Mr. Hyde neither has nor knows.

His relationship to Mr. Utterson is already more emotionally intimate than everything he has ever known. Of course he is closer to you than to anyone else, but you're his creator and his other half.”

“And for him that doesn't count”, the Doctor guessed.

“Exactly”, the Countess confirmed. “He just thinks that it's supposed to be this way. That he can't help but be attracted to you, because you are two parts of one soul.”

That makes sense, she could hear him think.

“But with Mr. Utterson it's different. Mr. Hyde doesn't realise that your friend is trying to love him for his own sake as well as yours. And even if he did, he wouldn't understand it. To him, your lawyer is the man you're pining after. He sees love as nothing but a weakness, a disgusting sentiment. The fact that he refuses to change his opinion, is a defensive mechanism. He doesn't want to become what you used to be, when it came to Mr. Utterson or Dr. Lanyon.”

“A pining, perpetually depressed and emotional mess”, Dr. Jekyll noted drily.

She chuckled. “Yes. You must know that, despite his self-mockery, Mr. Hyde does have a modicum of pride. He fears that love will not only make him weak, but confine him as well. Committing to a single person other than himself? Pining, sighing and daydreaming like a lovesick schoolboy? No way!”

Dr. Jekyll grimaced. “You just summed up his entire nature.”

“I know. But I had to explain his attitude to you somehow, because he's not going to do it.”

“Fair point. So he's acting the way he does, because he suddenly has … profound emotions. And because I remind him of it, he feels cornered and is scared.”

“Pretty much, yes.”

“Do you think I should stop doing it?”

That too was a good question. Continuing would keep the young man on edge. But from the way Hyde was acting, she found that Jekyll's call-outs were needed to keep him in check. Hyde's mind games were getting out of hand. His other half's retorts might agitate him, but they also showed that the young man couldn't taunt Jekyll without the older man returning the favour. The doctor had grown a spine and was now more than ready to stilt his alter ego when necessary.

“Quite the contrary, Dr. Jekyll. Continue. He needs someone to counter his mind games. Be careful, though. After all, you're playing with fire.”

The next time Jekyll came to the Lady, he felt a little lighter than last time.

Hyde was still being a pest, but now that he knew what the problem was, Jekyll had more patience with his alter ego.

That seemed to have an effect on the brunette as well. To the blond's surprise, he had agreed to a few terms, concerning Utterson.

Neither would pressure him into doing something he didn't fully want.

The lawyer's personal space was not to be invaded.

Flirting would be done in moderation and with subtlety.

Of course for Hyde, 'subtle' meant that he would keep it at the level of making suggestive remarks. Obviously suggestive remarks.

But it was a start.

“I see, you have set up some rules”, she noted, when he entered her greenhouse. “Well, I'm still not happy about the whole ordeal. But that puts me a little at ease.”

“Yes”, he mumbled awkwardly. Her anger from the last meeting had been terrifying and she hadn't even raised her voice to the level of shouting.

“I just wanted to make sure that neither of us pushes something on Gabriel. But …”

“But what, Doctor? Choose your next words wisely.”

“I do wish to court him. And I was hoping, that you could give me some advice.”

He had needed days of consideration to bring up the courage to ask that question. After all, he did have a sense of pride. But she knew the human mind so well. And she was a Lady of the highest class. Surely she would know a thing or two about the art of discreet courting.

But to his surprise, her expression turned awkward.

“Doctor, I'm a conversational therapist and consultant. Not a dating advisor. And to be honest, I'm no authority when it comes to that. It's been half a lifetime, since I last romanced someone. And no, I'm not actively courting Dr. Lanyon”, she added, when he opened his mouth to ask.

For a second he wanted to ask her, if she was really sure about that. But she gave him that look and so he kept his mouth shut.

“However, I understand where this is coming from. So I will try my best. Well, you know what he likes, so one important criteria is off the list. The most important part of courting these days is discretion. Sadly, because of our society with its ridiculous morals and expectations, you can't tell the world how much you love him. I wrote several letters to the parliament, telling them how much of a mistake they made by criminalising same sex love. Of course I didn't receive an answer. Not that I expected one, but hope dies hard.”

Jekyll's heart warmed. He certainly loved how open-minded, understanding and unbiased the Lady was. Of course it could be attributed to the fact, that she was a telepath, who had seen the world. But even so, it was so rare that someone didn't judge you, just because you had other preferences than the masses.

She giggled: “Oh, you would be surprised at how many people are unconsciously homosexual or know, but suppress it. To be honest, I never understood what the big deal is. Love is love, that's how it works. It never even occurred to be, that there should be something unnatural about people not preferring the opposite sex.”

“Never?”, he echoed in surprise.

She smiled and shook her head. “Never. My parents were non-judgemental people themselves and they never told me that other people would think this way or why. I was quite shocked, when I found out. When I asked my father, he shrugged and said that most people are hypocritical philistines.”

She smiled fondly. “That's how he was. He drilled me to be perfect in everything I do, but he also kept reminding me that everyone has their flaws and that I should never think of them inferior.”

Jekyll almost laughed. Then something came to his mind.

“Did your father … uhm, have unusual abilities too?”, he asked hesitantly.

For a second, she seemed to consider if she should answer that question or not. But then she seemed to decide she should and nodded. “Yes. He could tell, when someone lied or told the truth. I inherited my affinity for the supernatural from him.”

“And your mother?”

“She had no supernatural abilities. But she did have endless tolerance, patience and empathy. She was one of the few angels among humankind.”

Jekyll tried and failed to suppress his envy. His parents had never cared about anyone or anything but their name and reputation. If he didn't live up to their expectations (which had been almost always the case) he could be sure to regret it.

“That's terrible”, Lady Summers answered his thoughts sadly. “It's so depressing, that most people don't know how much children need their love and appreciation. Of course my father was strict and had high expectations of me too, but he valued me and my mother above anything in the world. Screw his good name, what mattered to him is that we were fine.”

“I wish my parents had been half that caring”, the Doctor said bitterly.

She took his hand and said gently: “Now, now, Doctor. We can't change the past. All we can do is fix the damage that has been done. That's what my father always said. In fact, he was the one who inspired me to become a therapist.”

“Really?”, he asked curiously.

“Yes. When my husband died, father said: 'Don't waste time on tears, Luise. Instead work on making his dream of a better world come true. Maybe you won't succeed in making the world a better place, but that shouldn't stop you from trying. You have such a wonderful understanding of people. Use it to help them.' And that's what I did.”

Jekyll smiled. What a man her father must have been …

Suddenly the Lady clapped her hands in a businesslike manner. “But enough of these reflections! You wanted advice on discreet courting. Don't ever forget to remind him that you love him. Never ever forget a meeting. Take him out to places he likes from time to time. And give him subtle messages. Are you by any chance familiar with floriography?”

The doctor shook his head hesitantly. “I know that it's the language of flowers, but I have no idea what it entails. I'm too much a man of science.”

“It's actually simple. Every flower has a meaning or several. You use that to convey messages. It's a tradition from the Middle East and has been a popular trend ever since it was introduced to Europe. Most ladies carry bouquets around and the gentlemen who are interested in them, mostly carry pocket books on them that contain the meanings of each flower.”

“So, if I gave flowers to Gabriel, everyone would know what the flowers mean?”

“Most people would. Therefore I wouldn't recommend handing bouquets of flowers to him, where everyone can see it. Give him secretly one flower each day. He knows the meanings. But be careful. Some flowers and plants carry negative messages. But you know what, Doctor? I have a book on flower language in my office. Do you want to borrow it?”

Jekyll nodded. “That would be wonderful”, he said gratefully.

“Good. I think we can end this session. I will just get the book, before you go. Oh, and Dr. Jekyll? Please, do something about all the sexual tension between you and Mr. Hyde. Your relationship is so bipolar and dysfunctional, that it's getting painful to deal with.”

Jekyll blushed and sputtered, while Lady Summers grinned smugly.

He returned home still flustered from her remark, but with a dictionary about flowers in his bag. Good thing he had brought a bag to begin with.

“What are you reading?”, Hyde asked curiously, when he appeared to find Jekyll reading the book he had borrowed earlier.

The blond didn't answer, but allowed the brunette to look over his shoulder.

Hyde's bilious green eyes skimmed over the page and he giggled.

“What is this? A book about the meaning of flowers?”

The corner of Jekyll's mouth turned upward. “Yes, actually. Her Ladyship lent it to me.”

With that, he continued reading and said no more.

Hyde remained in his spot, leaning over and obviously reading along.

From time to time the comfortable silence was broken, when one of them pointed out a flower whose meaning they particularly liked.

“Oh my god, the yellow carnations!”

“Hah! Look at that part about the narcissus! That flower is just perfect for you!”

“Look who's talking! And the orange lilies! I'm so going to leave those out for you!”

“And I'm so going to shower you in geraniums, because you're a fool!”

But apart from those little banters, they read together in silence.

At some point Hyde leaned his chin onto Jekyll's shoulder. His long, café brown hair tickled the blond's neck.

“I really don't understand how you can wear that stupid stiff collar”, the smaller man muttered.

The taller one shrugged. “It's just a part of a gentleman's attire.”

“Well, I hate it. Also, you're at home. Take it off.”

Jekyll could see, where Hyde was coming from. The collar was quite uncomfortable and rubbed against his skin. If he moved his head the wrong way, it could even hinder the blood circulation in his neck.

“Fine”, he chuckled and took it off.

Ahhh, much better, he thought, as he rubbed the irritated skin on his neck.

Then he tensed up in surprise and shuddered, as he felt the other's lips and tongue glide across his sensitive skin.

Whoa there, Edward!

“Are you planning to seduce me, or do you just want to leave a mark?”, he grumbled.

Hyde snickered. “Don't worry, just the latter.”

Jekyll cried out in shock, when Hyde nibbled at his neck with his sharp canines.

“Just a friendly reminder, Henry dearest: you're mine and even your lawyer agrees to go out with either of us, it will remain this way”, he purred.

The blond growled lowly.

Oh, two can play that game!

With a swift movement, he grabbed the smaller man by the small of his waist and pulled him into his lap. Hyde gasped in surprise and had to cling to the taller man to not fall off.

“Well, I can only return that statement, my dear creation”, he snarled. “I made you. That makes you just as much mine as it makes me yours.”

The brunette blinked. Then he caught on and smirked salaciously.

Jekyll requited the smirk. “Could it be that you lied earlier, when you said you didn't want to seduce me? Because I find it hard to believe you right now.”

“Ohhh, maybe?”, Hyde breathed lowly into his ear. “Alright, I lied. I absolutely planned to have my way with you.”

“You wicked tempter.”

Hyde chuckled gutturally. “You're easy to tempt. Look at you, Doctor. Where is the gentleman everybody knows? You're just a sexually frustrated old man in his midlife crisis.”

“And you're a short-tempered little goblin, who doesn't leave me alone”, Jekyll retorted.

Hyde mock-gasped and clutched his chest. “A goblin?! That's just rude, I must say, Doctor! Besides …”

Jekyll shuddered, when the smaller man caressed the sensitive skin on his neck with his sharp fingernails.

“… You're just too willing to indulge me. And do you know what? It has become so much more fun lately!”

“Has it?”

“Ohhh yes! There is fire in your eyes … resolve in your voice. I love it, when you get feisty and finally give into your dark desires, you dirty old man! You have no idea just how much it turns me on!”

Jekyll snorted. “Actually, I think I do.”

The bulge in Hyde's pants said it all.

“You know, perhaps I should deny us both, just to spite you.”

Hyde smirked smugly. “You won't.”

“You're right. I won't”, the blond admitted.

Feeling bold, he let his hands wonder down the smaller man's legs. They were comparatively long, sinewy, swift and strong. Enviable.

“Do you know what turns me on about you?”, he purred.

To his satisfaction, Hyde shuddered at the touch.

Oh, sweet, sweet revenge!

The brunette smiled, obviously flattered. “No, but do enlighten me.”

“Your guttural voice, especially, when you purr …”

Hyde chuckled throatily.

“Your strong limbs …”

“Why, thank you!”

Jekyll clasped Hyde's middle and pressed their bodies together. “How perfectly you fit against me …”

“Oh good grief, stop!”, the other laughed.

The doctor smirked. “That roguish glow in your devilish green eyes …”

“Alright, alright, enough!”, Hyde cried and held a finger to his mouth. “What the hell was that, Henry! Warn me next time you're going to be so grotesquely saccharine!”

Even as a spectre, he couldn't hide (pun intended) the intense blush on his face.

For some reason that made the blond feel incredibly empowered.

“It's a shame you can't keep that corporeal form for long. There are so many things I want to do to you right now!”

The brunette grinned lopsidedly. “What, strangle me or snap my neck?”

Jekyll laughed. “Sometimes you make me wish that, yes. But no. I wouldn't do that, no matter how angry you make me. After all, I couldn't live without you.”

Hyde blushed even harder and lowered his head, mumbling something unintelligible under his breath.

But it didn't need to be coherent. Jekyll knew what he had said.

“But most of the time, I'm grateful, that we're not completely separated.”

“How come?”, the younger wanted to know and looked up.

The Doctor smiled. “I will never be alone. There is something comforting about that. You will always be with me …”

… Right?

Hyde's eyes softened and he touched the older man's cheek. “Of course I will, Dr. Jekyll. Even in death.”

Suddenly he grinned. “Now shut up and satisfy me, you dirty old man! If we keep being this corny, I will throw up!”

Jekyll chuckled. “Of course, you horny brat. But it's late and I'm tired.”

“See you in your dreams, then”, Hyde purred.

Then he gasped: “Oh! I almost forgot!”

Jekyll yelped in surprise, when the smaller man sank his teeth deep into his neck.

“I did promise to leave a mark!”, he cackled and vanished back into their head.

“Sweet dreams, Doctor!”

“You'll certainly take care of that!”, the older man muttered and went to disinfect the hickey.

There was no doubt that he would have passionate dreams tonight.

God, what a brat! So many mood swings this evening! Maybe the Lady is right … I really need to do something about the sexual and emotional tension between me and Hyde.

---

*German for: I knew it! I knew they would turn this into a competition!

(A/N: Btw, it was totally custom to communicate via flowers in the Victorian Era. It’s called floriography or semlalik and it’s really awesome)