#moriarty brothers angst

[idontknowmyownmind]

Moriarty the Patriot prompt for Louis-centric (desperately need more of this baby)

1. Louis is a bit more broken than canon after the fall which result in him being an empty vessel because Louis Moriarty died at the same time of his brother's death news reach him and he is completely gone when Albert is also gone. Even when they come back, the Louis they know is no longer there as he is already dead.

2. A what if scenario where Louis is the one who is dead some time before the grand closing act.

3. A year or two after the fall, Louis got into an accident that got his memories, about everything and everyone but his name, erased. He life his new life without knowing his past and the return of Liam.

4. Some time after the fall, Louis got blind+deaf and somehwat lead a normal life somewhere. What if Liam and/or Albert have been taking care of him but he doesn't really aware (he is familiar but refuse to delute his imagination).

5. Louis dissapeared not long after the fall.

[anushkab2711]

Liam : *slamming open the door *

Sherly: *startled *is there anything wrong?

Liam : look what I got !!

Sherly : what happened , are you okay ?

Liam : *panting * shoving a heavy brown a paper bag in his hands * ( he had came running home )

I got a copy of Dr Watson's book . AT A SALE !! ( he no longer buys expensive stuff , had given upon being a noble)

It's magnificent!!

Sherly : still processing why is he so excited about that , he could have simply asked him to provide a copy whaa~ ?

I have never wrote something like this before 😆

[giggly-squiggily]

Still You Under The Surface (Moriarty The Patriot)

I hadn't intended this to get sappy but here we are 👀

Heyo everyone! I finally finished the Lee!Albert fic I was making! Darling man- I love Albert so much! He and his brothers deserve all the love in the world, and so this fic has been created! I hope you like it!

Shoutout to the wonderful @thatbigbisexual29 for the idea that Albert's neck is ticklish- I hope it's okay I've included it in this fic- it was too cute to pass up! Check her out, she's fantastic!

Summary: Albert had crafted the perfect persona for the world, for the various nobles he entertained, and for the Lord Of Crimes. However, it had little to no effect on his brothers. When the cracks start appearing in his mask, William and Louis are there for him.

Albert James Moriarty was unreadable.

The eldest of the Moriarty brothers, you’d be damned to find him without his signature smile. Coy, with a touch of amusement in those green eyes as if he found everything around him enchanting. He was a picture of elegance, gracefully handling any situation thrown his way with poise and charm. Some believed he’d never faced a worry in his life with how at ease he seemed, while others believed he simply dripped with confidence, too secure in himself to let anything petty bother him.

It was an illusion he held like a shield, his thin layer of protection to prevent the cracks from shining through. And it worked.

However…

“You seemed stressed.” William spoke up one morning upon seeing his brother. Ruby red eyes peered up at him from his newspaper, the slightest furrow in his brow upon meeting Albert’s gaze. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh? No, I’m fine.” Albert smiled, taking a seat as he collected the tea Louis made. It was a touch too strong, but he drank it regardless. “Things for our plans are going smoothly. Nothing to be concerned about.”

“That’s good to hear, but I wasn’t asking about our plans.” Folding the paper, William turned his full attention to Albert. “I was asking about you.”

“Will-”

“Albert, I watched you practice that smile until it became natural.” The blonde’s tone snapped his lips shut, making him pause. “That’s the smile you wear when you’re playing the Lord of Crimes. When you have to charm some aristocrats into sharing details or entertain a room as part of your noble stature. It’s an effective tool, but not one designed to hide things from us.” Willam’s voice softened some, concern taking away the edge. “Please tell me, as you-what’s wrong?”

Albert was quiet, stunned by how effective William saw past his illusion. It was true, he had practiced it many times with everyone; slowly molding his new persona into a well fitting mask he sometimes struggled to remove. When he did, it scared him- this person floating beneath the surface of his new role. It was so easy to forget who he was when he wasn’t helping bring London’s current system to its knees; when it was just him and his brothers.

“Albert?” Louis' voice cut through the smog of thoughts, something in his voice he found alarming. When he looked up, he found both brothers staring at him in surprise. Only when he blinked did he realize he’d been crying. “Oh, Albert…”

“Oh dear… how’d that happen?” Albert laughed softly, wiping his face with a shaking hand. “Apologies, gents, didn’t mean to scare anyone.”

“Nevermind that.” Louis scoffed, closing the distance and kneeling before his older brother, trying to catch his eye. “You never cry. Did something happen? Who did it? I’ll find them-”

“Louis.” William’s soft voice stopped his rambling, the other man sitting on the arm of Albert’s seat, his hand squeezing his shoulder. “It’s okay. You don’t have to now, but when you feel ready, we’re here to listen.”

“Really, I’m fine.” Albert choked out, struggling to clear his throat of the stubborn lump residing there. “You mustn't worry about me. I’ll be fine. Must be all the-the dust. Yes, that’s it. It’s dusty in here; my allergies are acting up.”

Louis and William shared a look, conversing with their eyes. Then Louis smiled, a touch sad as he gently patted Albert’s knees. “You know- Brother and I always did that too. We’d get overwhelmed with everything that happened and blame it on dust or grime from the slums, or We’d say we’d accidentally poked ourselves in the eye.”

“Terrible excuses, no? Of course, you never believed them for a second.” William nodded in agreement, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into Albert’s shoulder as he reflected on the memory. “You’d tell us it’s a big brother’s job to help his younger ones when they cry, no matter what the reason.”

“Cause it’s true-” Albert cut in.

“And it’s the job of the younger siblings to make sure they help their eldest brother when he’s in tears.” Louis leaned his arms against his knees, resting his chin in them as he gave Albert a small but encouraging smile. “Even if they have the gall to say the room’s dusty after I’ve cleaned it.”

The brunette let out a wet laugh, the sound making the other two grin. Shaking his head, Albert let out a breath before clearing his throat, finally starting to calm. “Apologies. I dislike crying- it makes me feel so…vulnerable.” He sighed, reaching out to gently run his fingers through Louis’ hair, his other hand coming out to pat William’s hand. “I guess it’s not so bad with you two, though.”

“You guess?” William tsked in mock offense, sharing another look with his brother before the hand on Albert’s shoulder began to slide, creeping across his upper back. “How rude. All these years later and you only guess it’s okay to be yourself around us?”

“You know what I me-eeh!” Albert straightened when the hand found his neck, curling against his nape. “Will, don’t you dare.”

“Dare what? We’re only sitting here.” Louis defended, the arms resting on Albert’s lap stretching so he could grasp each knee, something playful entering his expression. “Why so tense, brother?”

“You know whhiihihhiy! Will!” Albert yelped with a giggle when the hand at his neck wiggled, making him scrunch some. “Dohoohon’t!”

“My, you’re awfully fidgety today, Albert.” William teased, two fingers continuing to scratch at his brother’s neck while the rest of them pressed gently, sending little pulses of ticklishness across his nerve endings. “What’s the matter? Have to use the restroom?”

“Ants in your trousers?” Louis teased, his own hands squeezing Albert’s knees in a similar fashion, making him squirm. “Tickly ones?”

“Oh, I’ve heard of those. Devious little things.” William nodded solemnly, smirking when Albert blushed, a hand swatting at him. “No? What’s wrong then?”

“Wihihihihilliam! Lohohoohuis! SThaahahahp ihhiihit!” Albert broke into a fit of laughter, curling in on himself as William brought his second hand in, wiggling it gently against the back of his ribs. “Geahhahahaa! Thhiihihis isn’t fhahahhahair!”

“I disagree. I think this is quite fair.” Louis giggled, clearly enjoying himself. With his weight against Albert’s legs, he leaned up some to give his brother’s waist a squeeze, laughing when the brunette hooted. “You always tickled us when we were upset. It’s about time we return the favor. Right, brother?”

“Absolutely, Louis.” William nodded, one hand carrying on squeezing Albert’s neck while the other reached for his armpit, knowing how bad a spot that was for his brother growing up. “Come to think of it- I can’t recall the last time Albert properly laughed for us, can you?”

“Not at all. Such a travesty.” Louis tsked, yelping when Albert’s hand found his chin. “Ahhehhehe! Nohohohoo!”

“Yehehehhehehs!” Albert giggled back, his other hand latching onto William’s thigh and squeezing, nearly sending the other blonde flying off his seat. If they were gonna tickle him, he’d at least get a few back. “Thhiihihihs is whahahhat you gehe-AH!”

Well- so much for that idea.

“Ohoohoho? Is this still a bahhad spot?” William grinned when Albert arched away, arms shooting back to his chest when he wiggled both hands into his armpits from behind. Loud, beautiful laughter boomed from their brother’s lips; deep belly laughs that were so recognizable he tried to fight down on a daily basis. “There it is!”

“AH! Ahehahahhhahahahhaa! Whihiihihihihll, plehehehhahahhahahahse!” Albert cackled, sinking in his chair as he tried to fight off the hands. William simply changed positions, going from the front to carry on his playful assault. “Dhohoohohoohohn’t tihihihihihickle meehhehhee thehehehheheherhe!”

“Why not? It’s proving rather effective.” Willam laughed, yelping once more when Albert tried grabbing his waist. “Nohoohpe! No, absolutely nohoht! Louis hehehelp!”

“On it!” Bailing on Albert’s legs, he grabbed his brother’s wrists; pulling them up so William could properly tickle him. “There we are- finally smiling for real now.”

“GEHAHHAHHA, YOOOHOHOU TWOHOHOHOHO! STAHHAHHAHAP!” Albert squealed, all but falling out of his seat as his worst spot was attacked. It didn’t help Louis had begun running his thumbs against the outskirts of his palms, a tickle spot even he had little knowledge about prior to today. “I’M CHEhEHEHHERRED UP ENOOOHOOHOHUGH NOW PLEHHHAHAHHASE!”

“Hmm…do you think he really is, brother?” Louis asked, unable to fight down a giggle at the pig snorts breaking up Albert’s laughter.

“Seems that way to me, Louis. Very well.” William stopped, pulling his hands back as he watched Albert gasp for air. “Look at you- red faced and giggly. One’d think you had too much wine again, Al.”

“Yoohohou two…are gonna be the dehahhath of me.” Albert groaned, pulling himself back into his seat with Louis’ help. “Whahas that really necessary?”

“Yes.” The blondes said in unison.

Albert laughed, running a hand through his hair, his entire body tingling from the tickles. When he opened his eyes, he found the pair watching him fondly, sharing a small smile to themselves.

Without much warning, he grabbed them both, yanking them into the chair with him.

“Ah! Albert, this isn’t that big of a chair!” William yelped, letting out a small ‘oof’ when Louis unceremoniously crashed into him.

“We’re not children anymore- we all can’t fit in one seat like then!” Louis tried to argue, nodding apologetically to his brother after his elbow went into his gut.

“Oh please, you two are so dramatic.” Albert laughed, one arm around each of them as he hugged them close. Tight quarters aside, it was nice having them near. “Don’t worry- I don’t plan on getting vengeance. Yet.” He gave them both a light squeeze to their sides, earning a huff of giggles. “But truly…thank you.”

“For crushing you?” William asked, brows raised. “I suppose some enjoy that.”

“Hush.” Albert rolled his eyes, nudging him some. “You know what I mean. I’ve….been feeling off lately. It’s like you said; this whole ordeal we’ve found ourselves in…it can become overwhelming. Sometimes I’m scared that I’ll lose who I am. Not my status or anything like that but…me. Albert.” He closed his eyes, letting his head rest against the back of the chair as he looked for the words. “I suppose that’s why I’m so grateful for you two. If I didn’t have you…who knows what I’d be. Or who’d I be.” That lump was coming back. Why was he so weepy today? “So yes…thank you.”

The pair were quiet as he spoke, still even when he finished. For a scary moment, Albert was concerned he spoke too much. Before he could try to remedy that, something reached up to flick him lightly between the brow.

“Such a sap.” William teased gently, even if his voice sounded a little thick. Albert crinkled his face at him, earning a laugh. “You’ll never have to worry about that with us, though. No matter what happens, or what the world has in store, you’ll still be Albert to us.”

“That’s right. Our eldest brother.” Louis nodded in agreement, reaching out and squeezing his hand. “You’ll always be you, under the surface. Nothing will change that.”

Albert didn’t trust his voice. Instead, he only hugged them to him, letting the feeling of much needed assurance wash over him like a gentle wave.

He was so truly grateful for them. His brothers.

Thanks for reading!

[detective4blog]

I managed to write something slightly coherent and it's of course some angsty bullshit reunion moment that takes place sometime during season 4. Under the cut bc I feel bad making long posts. Also no spoilers bc I barely remember that season anyway.

Those deeply colored eyes were trained on his. The flecks of lighter blue seeming lighter with a slight joy, but drowning in the sea of rage induced navy blue fire. Those eyes were different, changed. Toughened from his past, toughened from his present; his eyes truly were like diamonds.

Still, they were Sebastian's eyes. Not the eyes of some sick criminal or twisted bastard...not to John, at least. At least he knew what happened after that pit. Sebastian hadn't died, and seemed to make a living for himself.

If clothes with dried blood stains counted as that.

"I want to make it clear that I don't care about the Holmes, either of them." He spoke, practically growling. "Keep them away from whatever fuck-all island the younger one wants to go to."

John was confused, vaguely remembering that there was some talk about someone, that Mycroft didn't want him involved since he wasn't family until Sherlock said something. "...why?"

Sebastian didn't look surprised by the question, but his silence proved he hadn't thought of a response to that question. "Spite, I suppose."

"No, I mean why warn me."

Longer silence.

"Mycroft would try to recruit me and Sherlock would just arrest me. Or talk too much and end up getting shot." The answer was said in a bored tone. As if either of those options would be an inconvenience.

John looked at the pockets of Sebastian's pants and jacket, looking for the faint shape of a firearm. That seemed to amuse the older, holding his arms out in a way that said "go on, frisk me".

Despite better judgement, John did so. Keeping far away as he could but feeling around for a weapon; gun, knife, or worse. He could feel how Sebastian's arms were larger with muscles. How he had another shirt underneath the plain button up he had on.

No weapon.

"I don't think you're a threat to me."

John raised a brow. Sebastian sighed, continuing to speak. "If it came to it, you'd hesitate to shoot me. And if you did manage to pull the trigger, it'd be somewhere that wouldn't kill me. You'd do the same if Stanford got involved in shit."

"I could break your arm." John pointed out. "Non lethal and would keep you from doing anything. Worst I could do there is make it a messy break."

Sebastian looked amused. "You'd have to grab me. If I had a gun," he made finger guns and aimed it towards John's midsection, "it'd be over. A knife, maybe you could get away with it. And you'd be betting on the fact that I can't use my other arm."

This wasn't how most people who went to school together and served together talked. Neither of them were normal anymore, it seemed. Too wrapped up in different worlds that intertwined sometimes.

"You said spite earlier. To who?"

The smile dropped from Sebastian's face at the question, eyes darkening. Not angry but mournful. "A dead man."

John crossed his arms at that answer, head tilting to the side. "You weren't always so closed about answers before."

That drew a bitter booming laugh. "You weren't always one for messy adventures."

Touché.

John stared at the man for a bit. He wanted to speak more, but what could he ask? What would Sebastian reveal? He sighed. "If you know Sherlock, you know I can't talk him out of anything."

The mention of the detective made Sebastian's face become sour with hatred. "You can try. Or not tag along. It's his loose ends to tie, not yours. You've got a kid to worry about."

John's throat went dry at the mention of Rosie. A slight moment of regret appeared in Sebastian's eyes but his face remained blank. "How did you hear about that? I haven't seen you since-"

"That dead bastard decided to keep getting updates even from the grave. Bit stupid if you ask me, since I certainly don't care what shape Sherlock's shot into the wall or your baby." Sebastian interrupted with a shrug. So casual about admitting that the man he knew spied into-

"Moriarty."

That got a reaction from Sebastian. His eyes flashed with every stage of grief, his body tensed, and his fists clenched. It all relaxed after a deep breath, eyes turning to the side. "You've gotten observant."

"Happens when you hang around observant the Holmes brothers."

Sebastian still stared at something towards his life. Likely nothing of importance, but something that was good enough to keep his mind off of the loss he still was recovering from. "I gave my warning. Don't get involved with all that. It's messy and it'll just ruin your day."

"What is 'it', exactly?"

"One of the many charming skeletons in Mycroft's closet." Sebastian finally looked at John again. His eyes were returning to the ones John knew; the ones that glimmered with playfulness and had a fire burning in the background. "Tell him I said 'hi'. It might make him a bit grumpy, though. I've been a bit of a problem for him, after all."

John was silent. Those rageful eyes from earlier were that of a criminal but the anger was not at him. Could it ever be at him? Curiosity would kill him, and heaven knew when he'd see Sebastian again. "Could you shoot if it was me?"

Sebastian stopped, his back turned and only ten steps away. "Pardon?"

"Could you shoot me?"

The man was silent. The longer it lasted, the more the possible answer started to scare John. What would he do if it was a 'yes, without hesitation'? Just walk away and pretend that finding out an old friend would shoot you if it came to it was normal?

"Probably not. You've got that kid to take care of, and I'd hate to take you away from them." Sebastian thought for a moment, a grin growing on his face. "'Sides, you've got too pretty of a body to shoot."

"Someone disagrees with you."

"Someone hasn't seen you naked, then."

John was about to comment that of course whoever shot him hadn't seen him naked before stopping. Sebastian's incident happened before he was shot. He didn't hear of that tidbit of news. He frowned, shaking his head a little. "You say that as if many people have." He instead said.

Sebastian shrugged. "I'm just happy to be one of 'em."

"I see you haven't changed."

Another booming laugh, this one with no traces of bitterness. John couldn't help but smile at it, rolling his eyes. "Besides, I don't even know who shot me."

Sebastian stopped, concern lacing his eyes. "Was it here or back then? Because if it was here, I can easily find who did it and-"

"It was during the war, Sebastian. Jesus, calm down." He forgot how scary his old friend could look when angry. Even more now that he bulked more muscles and was rather obviously a criminal.

The man just nodded at that, scratching the side of his neck. "Sorry to hear. Hope it doesn't bother you."

"Not anymore."

"Good."

Silence washed over the two again. It was obvious the conversation was being dragged on longer than it needed to be. John didn't want to let go but Sebastian was already drifting away like sand in the wind.

"See you around?" He called hopefully after the retreating blonde.

"...maybe. Probably not, though."

There was a sad bitterness in Sebastian's voice. It thickened his accent and made his already deep voice go lower.

He was still so readable after all these years. John watched him go until he couldn't make out which walking person was Sebastian, then went on his own way. He kept what was said in mind, hoping to bring it up whenever Sherlock was in a mood to accept ideas that contradicted what he wanted.

Even if keeping him away from wherever was just Sebastian being a spiteful bastard towards Moriarty one last time.

[eliasorchard]

ALWAYS THE FOOL WITH THE SLOWEST HEART — ALBERT J. MORIARTY

📼: angst, yearning, unrequited love, complicated feelings

📼: he loves you but you've fallen for his brother instead.

📼: okay ouch </3 ty for the request, anon :)

albert will never truly finish falling in love with you.

when you ran alongside him past the old, weathered houses lining the summer fields with the afternoon air in your hair, he knew he would never stop falling in love with you. or the time you two sat, cross-legged on the carpet in the drawing room, drawing doodles of each other with bright crayons on paper that had been torn from albert's workbook..

you were etched into his heart, into his soul — he was sure he would forget his own name before forgetting yours.

and when talks of you and albert becoming engaged were brought up between your parents and his, he felt happiness so overwhelming it almost overshadowed the suffocating, negative emotions he'd feel upon merely looking around at the state of his family, at the state of britain. you shared the same sentiment too, and he was happy to see that.

"what are you giggling about?" you'd ask one summer morning when the two of you were in your preteens, having a picnic on a hilltop, protected by the shade.

was it obvious — that giddiness on his face? "i'm not sure what you're talking about." he leaned back on his palms, trying to play it cool. but he knew he was doing anything but convincing you, especially when his fingers tightened around the plaid picnic blanket you two were sitting on.

he loved you dearly, and perhaps you loved him a little too.

seasons changed and time went on, while you were enjoying breakfast with your family one morning — your father broke the news of what happened to the moriarty manor, about the fire engulfed albert's family, how albert, his adoptive brother louis and 'william' were the survivors.

you rushed to him the very next day, worried about him.

"you're sure you're fine? no injuries whatsoever?"

it was the umpteenth time you'd ask him that question, and yet his answer always remained the same: "i'm fine, (name)." a few scratches meant nothing if you were here.

the topic of engagement was dismissed, but albert didn't mind one bit. he was just happy being around you. it seemed like things were finally becoming better for him.

he introduced you to youngest brother louis soon after, his new and found family, and you were very happy for him. he, too, seemed much happier than before — much at peace. louis was a bit distant yet respectful and william, well...

he was really nice, you thought when you initially met him. he was kind, polite, gentle. he was a really good person.

years passed, and all four of you grew up.

now albert watches from the kitchen window, absentmindedly staring at you and william walking side to side in the backyard without a destination in mind.

"can you pass me the salt?"

"..." albert tears his eyes away from the two, smiling at louis. he'd insisted on helping prepare dinner because he could not afford to be alone with his thoughts, neither could his heart handle being close to you two. "yes, here it is."

the way the two of you moved together, so in sync and enamored with each other made albert's chest tighten. he'd sneak in a few stolen glances every once and then, even though it hurt him to, he couldn't help it.

meanwhile, he remain on the sidelines, the perpetual third wheel, the one who could never quite find the courage to make his move. always the fool, always the one with the heart that seemed to beat a step behind everyone else's.

he watches as william places a kiss on your forehead and how your face visibly brightens at such a simple action. a part of him wishes he could be the one to make your eyes glitter like that, to hold you in his arms like william gets to. but he knows that is nothing more than a distant dream.

william is a good man, he's everything. he knows that your heart will be completely safe with his younger brother and yet, he doesn't know whether to feel pity at himself or be happy for the two of you, happy that you found each other.

and as if knowing the turmoil albert is feeling, louis gently pats his eldest brother's shoulder. "brother.."

"it's alright." albert let out a deep, heavy sigh, and when he turns his gaze back towards louis. the youngest brother saw tears forming in albert's eyes. he also noticed a slight tremble in the wry smile that albert fought hard to maintain.

at that, louis fell silent immediately.

the wedding preparations were complete and only a few days later, you would be somebody else's entirely.

for the sake of your happiness and that of his younger brother's, he is resolved to let you go. he knows that the depth of his feelings for you will only bring him ruin, and he knows that he will let it. yet, not a single speck of his sorrow will ever burden you: he will make sure of it. this act of release will be his final, ultimate expression of love for you.

and as softly as it started and as heartbreakingly it will end:

yes, it is true. he will never truly finish falling in love with you.

© 𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍 ;; do not repost, translate or modify my works in any way or any platform. all rights reserved.

[pillow-anime-talk]

reaction to his s/o’s death.

request: hi! how would moriarty the patriot characters react to his girlfriends death? sorry my english is bad becaues it’s not my language. if you don’t want to do it, dont do. have a nice day/evening😁

# tags: headcanons; current relationships; romance; drama; angst; death and blood mention; pregnancy and cancer mention too; suggestive

includes: female reader ft. sherlock holmes, jack renfield, james bond, fred porlock, george lestrade {mtp}

author’s note: hiii, thank you so much!

— SHERLOCK

↘ Your death was sudden. Sherlock was not prepared for it at all. He wanted to spend time with you that day at your favorite cafe on the corner of one of London’s streets. He wanted to eat apple pie with you, drink some coffee or tea with honey, and at the end take a walk along the park, talking about plans for the coming weeks.

↘ Your smiling face and eyes full of love, which shone even more at the sight of sweets, were muffled after a short while by the screams of the barista and customers, as well as gunshots, probably the most ordinary pistol. This day was going to be great, but it ended with a shooting by a madman.

↘ The sight of your body covered in blood and your blurred eyes was something indescribable to the man. After everything, the only question left was: Why didn’t he take you somewhere else? The feeling of guilt overwhelmed Sherlock Holmes like nothing else.

— JACK

↘ Just a few hours earlier, you were teasing each other about what to have for dinner, and a little after five in the evening, when you and your dog went for a short walk around the tenements, Jack heard many screams. He quickly put the newspaper he was reading on the table next to his cup of coffee, and then went to the huge window to see what had happened.

↘ The man could only see the galloping horse, the driver shouting incomprehensible words to God, your dog – Sharon ��� curled up under… you lying in a pool of blood, dirt and mud.

↘ That was when Jack cried for the first time in ten years, since your wedding.

— JAMES

↘ Together with James and William, you went to fulfill a mission; it was a simple task. Talk to the suspect, make a deal, possibly admit guilt and consider the punishment for the sins that the person was supposed to have committed.

↘ At first, everything was going well. Harold Stein, a German who came to London five years ago, was a human trafficker, who he brought from Germany. Pimping was a huge crime, so the three of you decided that there was no other punishment for the man than to hand him over to the police. And it was probably these words caused him to become so furious and disapproving. In an instant, the flash of a knife was within your sight. You quickly jumped away from the criminal, and then, with the will to fight, you wanted to stop him by saying that nothing would improve his situation.

↘ Your good spirit and aversion to aggression caused the knife to move towards you in an instant, and the next thing you felt was cold in your hands and toes. Looking down at the knife stuck straight into your chest, you just laughed. Flying bullets, fights, and poison had never defeated you… it was just a knife. Seeing this, James went into a rage, and even the calm and powerful William couldn’t stop him.

— FRED

↘ Fred understood the concept of death, he had dealt with it for a very long time, especially working for the Moriarty brothers.

↘ However, he never understood and never would understand the concept of the death of someone close to him, beloved, so precious. You were so young, so beautiful and had your whole life ahead of you; you wanted to write, sing, dance ballet, you wanted to open your own café, start a family with Fred in the future, have a pet and a garden where you would grow your favorite vegetables for salads or dinners. And yet cancer, for which a cure had not yet been invented, took you away from Fred in half a year.

↘ And although he had seen your life fading away for the last six months, at the funeral he could not hold back his tears and emotions; even Louis, even his mother, even God himself could not calm his suffering soul or soothe the longing that was visible in his gaze when he kissed your forehead for the last time in the coffin before placing it in the grave.

— GEORGE

↘ To George, you were a real princess, real Queen. And when you got pregnant with your first child, your husband couldn’t have been happier; a beloved woman, a home together, a long-awaited baby that would bear his surname, and also plans for the future like a secure old age and a group of grandchildren around the two of you sitting in old armchairs. Could it have been more beautiful?

↘ It certainly could have been... different. George had many enemies, but when you entered a relationship with him, you knew what to expect. So for five years you lived quietly, not sticking your neck out too much, enjoying being his life partner and future mother. However, everything changed on that one rainy night, when your beloved stayed at work longer than usual, wanting to finish some paperwork. And that’s when someone broke into your apartment. At first, they took what seemed valuable and expensive; your necklace, pocket watch, a bottle of red dry wine, a cigar, your grandmother’s rings, and also gold in small bars. And you would probably have survived that night if not for the instinct that told you to wake up and check if your husband had already returned.

↘ Instead of George, however, you saw a stranger who, upon seeing you, immediately attacked you with a vase standing on the dresser. In a moment, you found yourself on the floor with a terrible headache and spots before your eyes. The only thing you could think about was your husband and child in your belly. Unfortunately, your beloved returned too late and the sight he found was worse than all the nightmares he had dreamed of throughout his life. Guilt, anger, sadness, mourning, a desire for revenge… And in all of this, emptiness and loneliness...

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: August 30/24

Happy Friday everyone!! Check out what I've got for you today to get you through Labour Day Weekend! Enjoy!

RECENT MFLs

It Never Rains by StellaCartography (M, 1,955 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Parentlock with Rosie, Domestic Disaster, Plumbing Issues) – Focus, Watson, he commanded himself. He was down to the last corner of floor and then he'd just have to plunge the toilet, scrub and disinfect every surface in the bathroom, clean out the shower, run another wash, feed Rosie a proper dinner, and get her to bed. All in the next hour, if he wanted to prevent a stroppy Rosie and an even stroppier Sherlock. He hurried to get the toilet flowing again and was kneeling down to start on the floor when the door opened.

A Study in Bathtub Drains by jawnscoffee (G, 1,233 w., 1 Ch. || Prompt Fic, Established Relationship, Bathing, POV John) – It's a hot summer's day but not in a Shakespeare- but a really sweaty-i‘m-dying-because-of-the-heat-way. Which is why Sherlock wants to take an ice bath. The only problem: he can‘t find the bathtub drain.

For The Honour Of The Division by flawedamythyst (T, 8,627 w., 1 Ch. || Pub Night, Pub Quiz) – Lestrade wants to win the pub quiz, John wants to socialise Sherlock, and Sherlock just wants to get John drunk. (TRANSLATION: 中文-普通话國語)

The Arrangement by AbAbsurdo (M, 16,891 w., 10 Ch. || Mystrade || Victorian AU || Misunderstandings, Romance, Secret Identity, Historical Inaccuracy, Age Difference, Past Child Abuse, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Background Relationships) – Ten years ago, Mycroft Holmes was forced by his father to marry a young aristocrat from Brussels, who was left alone in the family’s countryside estate while Mycroft went to London to pursue a career in politics. A decade later, he sends divorce papers to the husband he hasn’t seen since he was a boy because he wants to go after James Moriarty who’s been seeking his company for years. In a ball, he meets his brother’s acquaintance and occasional colleague Inspector Lestrade and falls for him instead. His husband, while in grave danger himself, has not yet said his last word. Old enemies are waiting for a mistake to destroy him.

The Slash Man by Engazed (E, 281,469 w., 34 Ch. || Post TRF, Detective Story, Angst, Hurt / Comfort, Gore, Conspiracy, Friendship, Rape/Non-Con, Disturbing Images, Graphic Violence) – After ten days of unspeakable torture at the hands of Sherlock's worst enemies, John Watson has returned to Baker Street to live with a man whose death, no matter how fake, still haunts him. But his recovery is not easy, his friendship with Sherlock is strained, and a dangerous but hidden menace continues to threaten them both. Part 2 of The Fallen Series

[shall-we-die]

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{Rejection}

How would they react to you rejecting their confession (or the other way around?)

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↬[Fandom]•⊰ {Moriarty the Patriot}࿐

↬[Warnings]•⊰ {Angst}࿐

☰[Main list]•⊰ ────┈┈{0067}┈─╮

╭──────┈┈┈┈┈───────╯

╰┈➤Likes/Reblogs are appreciated࿐

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↬|Albert|

Albert is very good at hiding how he actually feels. He'd obviously be disappointed about it- He'd take their rejection with a polite shrug, and a smile. He'd try to be encouraging, and try to get them to reconsider, but once it's a firm 'no' he'd back off almost immediately. He's not going to insist on a no! He'd be upset about it, but try to take it with a smile and wish them a good day. Albert's rejection and heartbreak would get worse at night, and he'd mourn in his room, maybe drinking some wine. But he does have his brothers to cheer him up, and he'd try hard to move on from his crush, but it would take him a while. Albert would try to still maintain the same polite distance he usually does, hoping their feelings would change, while subtly trying to get closer to them again when he can. At the same time, he'd be open to different romantic prospects, now that his feelings are one-sided.

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↬|William|

William is usually calm and rational person, but he may get slightly frustrated and emotional if his confession is rejected. However, he will try to hide his emotions and maintain his composure if possible. William believes that intelligence and rationality are his main assets, and he may think that his crush is not smart enough to understand his feelings. He may also get curious about why they rejected him and may try to analyze the situation with logical reasoning. William may try to approach his crush again later on, hoping that they may change their mind or that he can persuade them with his charm and wit. Over time, William may realize that his initial approach may not be the best way to win his crush's heart. He may start to think that showing a softer and more emotional side may appeal to them. William may try to find out more about his crush, such as her interests, dislikes, and things they value in a relationship. He may use this information to tailor his approach and show that he really cares about them as a person, and not just as an idea. William may also get frustrated or discouraged if he feels that his efforts are not paying off.

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↬|Louis|

Louis wouldn’t react with anger if his crush rejects him. Rather, he’d accept her choice with a smile, albeit with a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, and express his hopes that they can remain friends, though a part of him would remain wistful. He would also take some time to process and cope with his emotions, possibly through composing music or engaging in a relaxing activity to find inner comfort. In the days that follow, he might become somewhat more distant and reserved. Although he’d conceal his true feelings, occasionally there would be moments where it shows in his eyes. If she approaches him again, he’d make an effort to be kind and respectful, but would ensure that he doesn’t get too attached once more. He may even attempt to distract himself with further music writing and other creative outlets, as well as spending more time with his brother, whom he trusts the most out of anyone.

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↬|Sebastian|

Sebastian would feel very disappointed by their rejection, which would probably lead him to drink heavily to try and make the feelings of sadness and rejection fade away. He'd try and focus on other things until he's able to accept that his feelings for them wouldn't be reciprocated, and that the best thing to do for both of them would be to just move on and not hold onto his unrequited love for them. He'd probably try and keep to himself for some time, avoiding talking to or interacting with them as much as he can. He'd also probably try and spend more time with other people to try and distract himself from thinking about the rejected confession, as well as try to move on and find someone new. He wouldn't go as far as to hate her, and would still try and be friendly if he had to interact with them for a reason, but would most likely be a bit more reserved around them out of embarrassment and sadness over the failed confession.

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↬|Sherlock|

If Sherlock ever got rejected, he'd most likely put on a big, nonchalant display of how "He'd already lost interest and they'd be missing him," or something along those lines to save face in the moment. Inside though? He would be shattered, and definitely go into a period of depression. He's got too much pride to let himself mourn over it though, so he'd mostly try to stay busy and avoid any feelings that may creep in. Though he would make occasional snide remarks about them after that.  He'd certainly never forget about them. To be rejected by them would be a blow to his self-confidence as well since his intelligence is one of the core aspects of his personality. He'd most likely be extra cocky about other things, to pretend he's still that cool, confident guy. There would also for sure be a bit of moping and brooding, mostly late at night. He'd go through the five stages of grief, though he may skip straight to anger to try and get it all out of his system faster.

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↬|John|

When his crush rejects his confession, he'd be a bit dejected, but not entirely surprised. He'd probably say something along the lines of "I had a feeling" or "I expected that outcome." John often tends to keep his cards close to his chest when it comes to his emotions. However, a small part of him might still hope that they'll one day change their mind or realise their feelings for him. He'll ultimately accept their decision and carry on as usual, though he might need some time to process his feelings in private. After getting rejected, John might find himself questioning why they didn't feel the same way he did. He might wonder if there was something he could have done differently, or even if something was wrong with him. These doubts will eat away at him, even though he won't let it show. He'll try to distract himself by focusing on his work and throwing himself into whatever hobby he's currently fixated on. He might also seek advice from friends or family on how to deal with the situation or even try to date someone else to move on.

||[🅁ejection]||

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     ⇆ㅤㅤ◁🅀ㅤㅤ❚❚ㅤㅤ🅂▷ㅤㅤ↻

[perkypeony]

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𝕄𝔸𝕊𝕋𝔼ℝ𝕃𝕀𝕊𝕋 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧

s᥆rrᥡ і'm ᥒ᥆𝗍 𝗍ᥲkіᥒg rᥱ𝗊ᥙᥱs𝗍s(і'm ᥒ᥆𝗍 s᥆rrᥡ) 🙃

angst:💔, fluff:☁️, spicy(very very mild): 🌶

🅙🅤🅙🅤🅣🅢🅤 🅚🅐🅘🅢🅔🅝

The Strongest's Opposite: Gojo Satoru x little sister reader 💔

Sukuna with a reader stronger than him 🌶

Gojo-sensei x new student reader ☁️

Shattered: Gojo Satoru x wife reader 💔

Gojo-sensei ft. the first-years☁️

Late: Gojo Satoru x girlfriend reader☁️

Changes: Nanami Kento x reader ☁️

You're Not Weak: Naoya x girlfriend reader☁️

A Father's Complicated Love (Dad Gojo x daughter reader) 💔:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Trapped: Yandere Gojo Satoru x fem reader

He's Mine: Suguru x reader ft. Satoru

🅦🅘🅝🅓 🅑🅡🅔🅐🅚🅔🅡

Umemiya Hajime x girlfriend reader ☁️ :

1 2 3 4 5

🅞🅑🅔🅨 🅜🅔

Mammon missed the reader 💔

Barbatos and the Rat ☁️

🅜🅞🅡🅘🅐🅡🅣🅨 🅣🅗🅔 🅟🅐🅣🅡🅘🅞🅣

Utterly Smitten: Albert James Moriarty x wife reader ☁️

I also write fanfics on Wattpad:

A Twist of Destiny (Naoya x reader)

The Demon Brothers' Little Sister (Obey Me fanfic)

[zetsubobu]

To this day, I still can't bring myself to actually ship sherliam

I'm sorry but they just don't appear like a romantic couple to me

Idk if it's because their bond seems kinda rushed, especially in the beginning or if I genuinely can't see them being romantically interested in anyone (because to me neither of them acts or hints that they are interested in romance. Sure they say some things that can be interpreted as romantic but to me those sentences could also be said to a close friend. Both of them appear more aroace than anything else)

It's rough being a yuumori fan and not shipping sherliam because it's everywhere

(also can they start giving us angst again, I know that the remains just ended and part two will continue soon but I need more moriarty brothers angst)

[moriartyluver]

Hiii! I saw your post about having William’s kid after his fake death and I wanted to request something similar to that if you don’t mind, angst with comfort of Liam coming back from his “death” but when he tries to find his wife he literally can’t find her anywhere and when he asks his brothers about it they tell him that after she found out he “died” she became really mentally unstable for the whole pregnancy and after she gave birth she moved to her manor in the countryside and rarely ever came to the city and she always seemed upset when she did

A/N: thank you for the request! I’m not very creative so it may still be a bit too similar to the original oneshot but I’ll try my best!

Characters: William James Moriarty x Fem! Reader

Prompt: William coming back after his fake suicide to find his wife had almost disappeared completely off the face of the earth.

Genre: angst to comfort

Format: oneshot

Warning: mentions of suicide, mentions of post natal depression. NOT PRROF READ

William glanced around the room.

“Where is she…?” By ‘she’ he was referring to his wife, you, who was nowhere to be seen. Above all, he was probably most excited about seeing you when he had returned.

“..William..” Louis muttered his name, contemplating how he should tell his brother of what had occurred whilst he had disappeared.

William’s mind had gone to the worst possible scenarios, although he tried to remain calm and rational. Had you moved on and married another man who was more suited to you, or worse, had you..died?

“She’s alright, I suppose,” James inputted, trying to not escalate the situation. “We just..”

“She’s gone..” Louis continued. “She’s alive and hopefully well, but from what we’ve seen, Lady (name) left,”

“Why did she..-?” William already knew the answer though, he was a smart guy after all. He knew that you wouldn’t want to stick around after he supposedly died. It hurt, yes, but he understood.

At first, he had originally asked Sherlock to look for you so he could see you first, but after they both weren’t able to track your whereabouts, William had decided on seeing his brothers first. Hopefully, you were with them.

But once he had entered the room without you seen anywhere, he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He had driven you to the extent of leaving those who you were closest to. Liam wasn’t ever going to forgive himself.

The room was silent. There was undeniable tension. On one end was Albert and William who were confused as to where you had gone, and then Louis and the rest of MI6 who wanted to tell William in the nicest way possible.

“The last time we saw her was nearly a year ago…” Fred commented. He paused, trying to look for the right words. “As far as we were aware then..she had gone to stay in her manor in the countryside…”

Louis glanced over to Fred, as if questioning whether he was going to continue. Louis knew he couldn’t bring himself to do so, and so he hoped that one of the other could. Fred opened his mouth to speak again, fiddling with his scarf.

“…with her son.”

William’s scarlet eyes widened. He had a son? Was this his son? He had hoped so. William knew he was being selfish, to some extent, but he couldn’t bare the thought of you moving on. Whilst he was gone, he had a whole breakdown to Sherlock when he had asked liam how he felt about leaving you behind. He didn’t want you to move on, and it was the most selfish that william had ever felt.

“…a son..?” The suppose was evident on his face. From a man who always expected everything, he finally had cracked, and experienced surprise.

Once the awkward reunion was over, he had informed Sherlock of this who helped liam find where you were staying. The manor was one you had recently bought, after William’s death. It would have been easier to find you if it wasn’t but alas, you had managed to isolate yourself from the entire world and only stayed with your son.

From what they had gathered, you had went to stay in the countryside after William’s supposed death, and had only visited your friends once in a blue moon. It wasn’t illogical to assume that this was all for the sake of your child, after all, he was the son of the Lord of crime, and although Albert and mycroft pulled a few strings to make it out that you were completely innocent and had no involved in the killings of nobles, your son wasn’t going to have the privilege of being as safe.

So now, there William had stood outside your new manor. He was hesitant to knock on the door and see you for the first time in three years. The professor had stood alone. Nobody else was with him to help ease you into the reunion between yourself and your husband, which had now seemed like a foolish decision.

He lifted his curled fist to the door. There were very few lights on in the house and no signs of human activity for miles.

Knock

Nothing.

He tried again.

Knock, Knock.

Footsteps approached the door. He could hear the faint sounds of a child blabbering. It was as if the manor had come alive. The pacing of what he had assumed were your feet was slow, as if you had no energy to walk quicker.

The door swung open slowly to reveal you stood in front of the blond. Your hair was disheveled and your eyes were tired. Your posture was lazy and your eyes were baggy. Whatever had happened to you to make you look so exhausted hadn’t mattered now. You were there and as beautiful as the day he had left you. That was all he saw.

You rubbed your eyes tiredly, failing to realise who was in front of you. Smaller and quicker footsteps had approached your behind. Your son had managed to quickly walk over to you despite being so young and hugged your leg for support.

Once your eyes had flustered open, that’s when you saw him, and you could have sworn your souls had leapt out of your body.

“W-William..?!” Your voice was low and quiet, even though you had exclaimed his name. Had you not talked to anyone in so long that your own voice had begun to disappear?

You fell to the ground, your son moving away as you knelt in front of your husband, the man who you had previously known to be dead.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. After spiralling into a deep depression following both the ‘death’ of your husband and the birth of your son, you genuinely thought you had gone mad and hallucinated his existence.

“It can’t be…” you muttered as you looked down at the ground on your porch “You’re really here..william..?”

He knelt down to face you on equal ground, his soft fingers making their way underneath your chin as he made you face him. “I’m here..it’s really me..”

Tears began to fall from your eyes as your lips parted, releasing a few sobs. Your husband held you close in a tight embrace while you cried into his chest. You spoke of how much you had missed him through tears as he rubbed your back, reassuring you of his return.

Your son waddled over to his parents, blabbering a few noises as he tried to ask both why his mother was crying and who this strange man at the doorstep was.

William pulled away from you, caressing your cheek before planting a soft kiss onto it, then scooping your son in his arms as he helped you stand up once more.

“I’m here..now and forever..”

[chiamew]

"sherliam angst" "moriarty brothers angst" okay that's whatever where is the billy and garrett content I've seen nothing for them that I didn't make myself

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

Severed and Broken(Part 2 of “Deduce Me”)

So many people requested a 2nd part to “Deduce Me”, so here it is! *Familiar Characters are NEVER mine!*

Fandom: BBC Sherlock

Warnings: Soulmate AU, angst (no fluffs given here), It’s short. Reader is broken. 

Pairings/Characters: Sherlock Holmes x fem!reader, Mycroft Holmes

"And why should I do this for you, Sherlock?" Mycroft's question grated on Sherlock's nerves. "Mycroft, I do not ask you for anything. I don't need favors from you in normal circumstances, but I need this." Mycroft cocked his head to the side for a moment as he thought. When John had called him and told him what Sherlock had done, Mycroft was determined to stay out of it. But now Sherlock was here, asking for his help. And Mycroft liked you. You were good for Sherlock.

         "I will see what I can do," he finally replied to his brother. Sherlock didn't thank him as he left Mycroft's office. The elder Holmes sighed before picking up his phone. As soon as he knew Sherlock was gone, he dialed your number. "What is it, Mycroft?" your tired voice asked when you'd answered. Mycroft quickly explained what Sherlock asked him to do and you scoffed. "Of course he did. The choice is yours, Mycroft. I won't hold any ill will for you if you choose to help him." You hung up, leaving Mycroft with a decision. He wanted to respect your choices, but he also wanted to help his brother. With that in mind, Mycroft texted Sherlock the information.

         You weren't at all surprised when, three days later, you found Sherlock standing outside the soulmate clinic. "What are you doing here, Sherlock?" you asked. "You cannot do this," Sherlock simply stated. You stared at him for a moment before you began laughing humorlessly.

         "Why not?! Why shouldn't I?! You clearly don't care. You didn't even notice I was gone!" you shouted, "I-I can't do this anymore, Sherlock. It isn't fair to either of us. Having a soulmate might not mean anything to you, but it does to me. Something has to change here. And I won't make it be you."

         Sherlock stared at you for a moment, as if waiting to see whether you were finished shouting at him. When he determined that you had, at least for the time being, he spoke. "You've always known who I was, Y/N and you have stood by my side just as Watson has. I do not think I could really forget you if I tried." You let out a scoff.

         "Really? What about the next case? A case that tickles your mind and pulls you in so deep you cannot tell fantasy from reality? What if Moriarty somehow returns? Or the next Irene Adler comes along?" you asked as you fiddled with your fingers. Sherlock couldn't argue for once. He knew you were right this one time. He opened his mouth to speak, but you continued on in your tirade.

         "Face it, Sherlock, your cases and yourself will always come first for you. And that's fine. But I won't sit idly by, letting myself die a slow and painful death at the hands of my supposed soulmate. I love you, Sherlock, I truly do, but I can't go on in this constant pain. So, I am severing the bond and releasing you from your tie to me. I wish you the very best. Please don't try to stop me."

         Before Sherlock could stop you, you raced inside. As he was about to take off after you despite your wishes, his phone pinged with a text. Lestrade with a case. Sherlock glanced up at the doors of the clinic, then back down at his phone briefly. It only took a second for him to make up his mind what he would do.

         Sherlock would learn the consequences of his choice a couple of hours later when he nearly fell to his knees in pain. When he desperately tried to reach out to you through the soul bond, he could no longer feel it. The two of you were no longer bound together. You had done it and for once in his life, Sherlock felt something akin to remorse. He only hoped you would be content with your choice.

(a/n: I hope you like it! Fluff was apparently off the table for this one though.)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @supernatural4life2022

Deduce Me Tags: @sherlocks-blanket @zizzlekwum @let-me-r-e-a-d @high-functioning-lokipath @cemak 

[fancyfeathers]

angst time!! when william saw the bruise on darling's hand it instantly brought him back to the memory when albert's mother used to beat his hands and wrists so much that they left permanent scars. william's initial plan was to kill the noble lady in a horrific way, only for him to be calmed down later. i like the idea that after that incident, to make her feel better (or some emotional manipulation lol) he shows her his scars as well, and she realises for the first time that he used to be just like her.

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

Ouch… I love this thank you

I’m just imagining the two sitting there while William is still holding her glove that he took off to see the bruising and it’s just silent as the two sit there and William is just thinking of ways to deal with the noble woman who did this and her friends who watched it happen…

He is no fool to the names people call her behind their backs, and honestly he should have expected something like this he just did not expect it to happen so soon.

“William, please don’t hurt them… I am… I’m fine…”

A clear lie from a bleeding heart.

“After all it’s nothing I’m not used to.”

William takes a second to think about what she said, she had indeed been through all sorts of abuse since the day she was born. Her mother after her father died and forced her into work for the ballet before throwing away like she was nothing, then there was abuse she endured there that he did not even want to think about, she could have never said anything about what she endured back then out of fear for what may happen if she did but now she can tell someone and ask for help but she still won’t, choosing to endure it.

She grace of a saint to be able to endure that without biting back in the end, he wasn’t even able to do that.

It is still silent as William stand up without a word and leaves the room, her heart sinks, thinking the worst. Then a few minutes later he returns with a warm wash cloth and bandages for any broken skin that may be there. He sits down next to her and rolls up his sleeves without a word and her eyes go wide and she just stares at William’s scared arms as he tends to her injury, wiping away any blood and wrapping her wrist with the bandage loosely to stop the bleeding and to support the sprain.

“What… What happened?”

Then the truth comes out, up until now he would have never told his darling about how he wasn’t actually noble and what he did to Albert’s biological family along with Albert and Louis and while he doesn’t tell them of their fate he explains what the deceased lady of the house did to him and needless to say she can already figure out the outcome it had. William just pulls her close and holds her, pressing her head close to his chest so his rests his head i top of hers.

“I… I am not like you, William… I don’t want anyone to get hurt or die.”

“I know, dear, but that is why I am here, to do what you cannot in order to protect you from the cruelties of the world.”

She just sits there in his arms, wondering what she had done wrong to deserve the life she had gotten.

(I am just picturing the absolute horror if she or any of the other darlings of the Moriarty brothers found out exactly what they did to Albert’s mother and brother specifically because in the manga their deaths are a lot worse than in the anime, like she was strangled by Albert I believe and he was stabbed through the mouth with a broken piece of wood…. Ya)

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

The Same Page part 2

Here it is! Did anyone ask for it? Not really, but I wanted to write it anyway. Enjoy!

Same Page Masterlist:

Warnings: ANGST

No words were exchanged between the Holmes’ brothers as they waited for you to wake up. They had nothing to say. All that occupied their minds currently was you, and words weren’t needed to discuss the condition you were in.

Bad things often go without saying.

Sherlock wasn’t used to looking to Mycroft for answers or help, but the moment you started to stir, his eyes turned to his big brother’s with an almost panicked expression. After all, he didn’t know how to take care of you in your current condition, and Mycroft had spent two years doing it.

“Mycroft?” Your voice was thick with sleep, and your muffled tone had an air of confusion to it as Sherlock felt you squeeze his arm.

“Hello Y/N,” Mycroft answered before Sherlock could correct you. “I’m here.”

“I had another one,” you whimpered. “Sher…he…was there. I didn’t want to wake up. It was so real.”

“I know it was, honey. Open your eyes.” Mycroft told you hesitantly.

You slowly pushed yourself into a sitting position, rubbing your eyes and blinking them open slowly. When your eyes landed on Sherlock’s, your mouth dropped open slightly, and you reached both of your hands out and gripped onto him.

“It was real?” You breathed, tears brimming in your eyes. Your eyes flitted over to Mycroft to make sure he was there, before whipping back to Sherlock, as though you were afraid he would disappear if you looked away too long.

“It’s real. I’m back, N/N.”

Mycroft watched his siblings silently. He hadn’t heard Sherlock call you by your nickname since you were around three. He also wasn’t used to seeing Sherlock allow you to hug him like you were now, and he couldn’t even remember the last time Sherlock reciprocated the affection.

But then again, over the last two years he had seen many sides to his siblings that he wasn’t used to, most of them for the worse. It was nice to see the better for a change.

“Why did you leave me?” Your frail body was shaking with sobs as you gripped onto your big brother as though he was the only thing holding you to the world.

“I’m sorry,” Mycroft could swear that Sherlock’s eyes were glistening as he held you tightly to him. “I’m so sorry. I’m here now, I’m here.”

You pulled away slightly from Sherlock, your fingers still clamped onto his shirt, and Mycroft’s heart leapt into his throat when your eyes turned to him. He knew that look all too well. Your lip was quivering, and your wide eyes held a fragility that he would never get used to, like a glass mid-way through shattering. You looked at him like he was the only thing in the world holding you together. The only thing you could trust. The only one who could fix you.

But he didn’t know how to fix you. He didn’t know how to pick up the pieces that were so broken, it was as if you had fallen with Sherlock.

“Awake?” You were holding your breath, every bit of sanity left in you reliant on the words that would come out of your oldest brother.

“Yes, yes you’re awake sweetheart.”

Mycroft breathed a sigh of relief when your attention turned back to Sherlock.

Your eyes studied him carefully, as though you were waiting for him to shatter into a million pieces in front of you.

After an agonizing silence, Sherlock spoke. “Moriarty’s men were watching you. If you didn’t react as though I was dead, they would’ve killed you, and me, and-“

“Stop.” Your voice was louder than usual, stronger. “I don’t care why.”

Sherlock swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. “Are you angry?” He was trying to find some emotion in you, anything to give him hope that his little sister was somewhere in this broken figure in his arms.

“No.” You blinked. “Yes…maybe.” Your shaking body seemed to collapse into his arms. “Not now, I don’t think. I can’t now, I just want you here.”

Sherlock held your near-limp form closely, breathing a sigh of relief. He knew there would be plenty of anger to go around later, from you, from Mrs Hudson, certainly from John. But for now you were just relieved to have your big brother back, and Sherlock would enjoy it while it lasted.

He wasn’t sure how long all of you stayed like that, suspended in a strange sense of contentment.

Mycroft was the one to break the silence, looking at his watch and leaning in to speak softly to his little sister.

“Y/N, it’s getting late. You should try to get something to eat and drink.”

“Not hungry.” You mumbled into Sherlock’s shirt. Sherlock twisted, pulling you away from him despite your soft cry of protest.

“Mycroft is right.” Mycroft barely resisted the strong urge to gloat at this statement from his little brother. “I’ll come with you, I promise.”

Sherlock wasn’t used to agreeing with Mycroft, but they had both promised to stay on the same page when it came to you, and he certainly wanted you to eat.

You slowly slipped off the bed, your fingers never once loosening their grip on Sherlock’s now-wrinkled shirt. He didn’t complain, simply following you off the bed and keeping one arm around your shoulders.

Your eyes turned to Mycroft and you nodded your consent at his proposal.

“Do you feel strong enough for the stairs?”

You took a hesitant step forward, and Sherlock felt you lurch, unbalanced on your feet. He tightened his grip on your shoulders, effectively holding you up as you shook your head in answer to Mycroft’s question.

“Would you like me to help you downstairs?” Mycroft asked gently, opening his arms to allow you access.

Sherlock watched his siblings’ little exchange, trying to suspend his feelings of disbelief. Mycroft spoke to you so gently, asking you about every next step he took. His confidence spoke of a familiarity to this situation, and Sherlock wondered how many times Mycroft had had to help you through the smallest of daily tasks.

You seemed torn for a moment, your eyes going back and forth between Sherlock and Mycroft. Sherlock struggled to understand your hesitation, before he came to the most logical conclusion.

Your familiarity with Mycroft’s help in all tasks was tempting and comforting, but you couldn’t bring yourself to release your hold on Sherlock.

Mycroft seemed to read your train of thought as well.

“It’s alright, we can both help you. Would that be alright?”

In answer, you removed one hand from Sherlock’s shirt and gripped onto Mycroft’s outstretched arm. Mycroft smiled softly at you, and together the Holmes’ brothers held you up as you walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Mycroft lifted you onto a stool at his kitchen counter, and Sherlock dutifully remained by your side so that you could keep your grip on him.

Sherlock felt like an intruder on some intimate moment every time that Mycroft spoke to you, so gentle and reassuring was his tone.

“Would you like to pick out your dinner?”

A nod. Sherlock wasn’t used to seeing you silent for so long.

“Alright, good. What would you like?”

In answer, you held up an M in sign language, and Mycroft smiled at you.

“Mac and cheese, I’ll be right back.”

After Mycroft had disappeared into the kitchen, a strange silence fell over the two youngest Holmes. You didn’t seem comfortable enough to speak, and Sherlock couldn’t seem to find anything to say.

You tugged on Sherlock’s arm, and he looked down to watch you lay his hand on your lap and play with his fingers between your own. He smiled. You used to do that a lot as a little girl, whenever he was nearby and you were incredibly bored with the “grown up conversation” around you.

“I missed you.” Sherlock whispered. You looked at him with an unreadable expression before turning your attention back on your intertwined hands.

Sherlock sighed. How was he supposed to talk to you? He had had a hard enough time with that before all this. You were the only Holmes sibling that seemed to take after your parents, leaving Sherlock and Mycroft at a loss when it came to finding common interests with you.

Mycroft seemed to have settled into a role in the last two years as caregiver, but this was all so new for Sherlock that he didn’t know where he fit in.

Not long after, Mycroft returned with a steaming bowl that he placed in front of you. You hesitated, unwilling to release your grip on Sherlock. Mycroft leaned down to better look into your eyes.

“It’s alright, you can let go. He won’t go anywhere, I promise.”

Hesitantly, hands shaking, you released your grip on your big brother in exchange for a grip on the fork in front of you.

“Good girl,” Mycroft smiled faintly.

You ate in silence, and after a short time you pushed the bowl away from you, eliciting a slight frown from Mycroft.

“Y/N, please eat some more.”

You shook your head, not daring to look Mycroft in the eye as he let out a frustrated sigh. He nudged Sherlock out of the way and stood fully in front of you, gently tilting your chin up to force you to look at him.

“Please, for me?”

You took two or three more bites before pushing the bowl away and shaking your head. Mycroft sighed and, to Sherlock’s surprise, pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“It’s alright, that’s enough. Thank you.”

“Sherlock.” It was the first word Sherlock had heard you speak in over two hours, and Mycroft responded instantly, stepping away from you to allow Sherlock to get closer.

Sherlock stepped forward and allowed you to once again fall into his arms. He couldn’t remember the last time he had held you this much in a single day.

For the first time since he had caught sight of you in Mycroft’s cameras, Sherlock’s mind drifted to other things.

John. John still didn’t know that he was alive, and Sherlock was itching to tell him. He communicated this to Mycroft by simply mouthing ‘John’ over your shoulder. Mycroft’s face took on a resolute, almost solemn expression, and he placed a hand on your shoulder, pulling you away from Sherlock.

“Sweetheart, Sherlock needs to leave for a couple of hours, alright?”

Your reaction was about as Sherlock had expected.

Your entire body went rigid, and you twisted instantly out of Mycroft’s grasp, gripping onto Sherlock’s arms with all of your strength.

“No, no don’t go!” Your wails struck Sherlock to his core, but he knew he couldn’t just stay by your side forever.

“I have to tell John, Y/N. He still doesn’t know,” he attempted to reason with you, but your cries didn’t stop, neither did your grip loosen.”

“Don’t leave, stay, you have to stay!”

“Hey, look at me, alright?” Sherlock pulled his wristwatch off and placed it into your hands. “See? I’ll be back by 9:30, ok? I promise I will, I promise.”

These reassurances were also to no effect.

“Don’t go, Sherlock don’t!”

Sherlock looked to Mycroft for help, something both men found uncomfortable. Mycroft took your small hands in his, and pried you away from Sherlock, not even flinching as you fought him with all your strength.

“No, Sherlock no!”

Sherlock felt that there was no choice now but to turn his back and leave.

“Sherlock, don’t leave me!”

He would never admit to anyone, even himself, that those were tears dripping down his cheeks as your cries echoed behind him.

[joanquill]

"Oh god… Why are you here?" (Version 2)

Albert James Moriarty

A/N: Another version of the previous post. It's not that different in the plot tbh you can skip

Warnings/s: Death, Blood, Mentions of Abuse

Tag/s: Angst

'No... No, no, no... It couldn't be...' you repeated in your head, your heart thumping against your ears as you scoured Albert's room, hoping your theory was wrong.

Ever since the news of your parents dying from a heart attack reached you, you knew something was off.

Your parents were the picture of health. Even catching a cold was rare for them... A heart attack? It was too bizarre. You knew it was murder.

The only evidence you had were the terrified screams they had the night of their death. You were supposed to be out at a party but decided to go home instead and sleep.

Instead of sleeping on your warm bed, you stood in front of your home as you heard gunshots inside as blood tainted the windows, making you immobile in fear.

When you finally snapped out of it, it took all your strength to run back to the party, locking yourself in one of the guest rooms and pretending to be asleep.

Nonetheless, being an orphaned young noble meant just bad things ahead.

Even at the funeral, you could feel the pitiful looks and malicious gaze of everyone around you.

But when you saw their peaceful faces in the casket, you couldn't help but let out a breath of relief.

As twisted as it is, you felt a weight get off your chest as they were lowered six feet under.

No more walking on eggshells with each word or move, no more hiding bruises under your clothes and makeup, no more hiding around the house when you hear your parent's angry calls.

"(Y/N)...?" a soft voice called out, snapping you back to reality.

"Albert..." you whispered in a shaky breath, "Sorry, I guess I'm just out of it..." you nervously laughed, making him frown.

He held his hand out to you, making you furrow your brows and carefully place your hand in his.

Albert held your hand firmly, giving it a firm squeeze.

"Don't worry, I won't let anyone hurt you..." he promised, making you pause.

Tears you didn't know you were holding back all fell at once, making Albert hold you tightly as you sobbed into his chest.

And he did keep his promise.

You stayed in the Moriarty manor ever since, getting closer to his brothers as you slowly fell in love with Albert, the only one who stayed by your side when no one did.

You couldn't ask for more.

But you couldn't stay there forever depending on the Moriartys.

Albert had no complaints about you staying in their care, but you wanted to be independent.

You wanted to be someone worthy to stay by his side, not some leech living off his money.

So, you decided to leave and make a life for yourself.

But there was still that gnawing feeling of your parent's death, knowing something was wrong.

You continued to dig into their deaths, wanting to know who did it.

What didn't prepare you was your search leading back to the Moriarty manor years later.

You always knew you would go back home to them, to him.

But not because of you accusing them of your parents' murder.

You tried to keep in touch with them. But as years passed, letter conversations slowly became fond memories.

You still held them dearly in your heart... but all the clues lead back to them.

You planned on letting them know when you visit, not sneaking in and dissimilating their bedrooms for undeniable proof.

"Please... Don't let it be him..." you pleaded, going through the documents, and you saw it.

Profiles of your parents are crossed out in red. Details of how they would stage it as a heart attack. There were even more behind it.

You felt your heart drop as you blanked out. You couldn't process what you saw.

The people you considered as family were the ones who killed yours.

"(Y/N)...?" a soft voice called out, snapping you back to reality.

"Albert..." you whispered in a shaky breath, turning around and facing him, your whole body shaking as you gripped the dresser for stability.

'Oh, god...' you gulped, keeping your eyes on Albert as he looked at his room, messy from your search with documents scattered on the floor, his expression unreadable.

"...Why are you here?"