#mycroft holmes x official character

[anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek]

TEARING DOWN YOUR WALLS (MYCROFT HOLMES X OC!MORIARTY)

Alizon Moriarty, the elder sibling of the renowned consulting criminal, embodies a striking presence with matching hair colour and eyes reminiscent of their notorious counterpart. Yet, Alizon diverges distinctly, portraying a vibrant intellect intertwined with a refined sense of style. Despite their jovial demeanour, Alizon conceals a latent tendency toward psychopathy, a trait that surfaces only under specific triggers.

As the older sibling, Alizon occupies a position of authority within the government, surpassing even the esteemed Mycroft Holmes in rank. Identified as demi-gender, Alizon navigates their identity with grace and confidence, seamlessly balancing their professional obligations with personal complexities.

Mycroft Holmes, The epitome of governmental authority and intellectual prowess. With a demeanour that exudes cool, calculated control, Mycroft navigates the intricate web of political intrigue and criminal activity with unparalleled finesse. His towering intellect is matched only by his formidable presence, often depicted as a master manipulator behind the scenes.

Physically imposing yet possessing an understated elegance, Mycroft's sharp wit and encyclopaedic knowledge serve as formidable weapons in his arsenal. Clad in impeccably tailored suits that mirror his refined taste, he commands attention in any room he enters. Despite his enigmatic demeanour, Mycroft harbours a complex relationship with his younger brother, Sherlock Holmes, often oscillating between mentorship and exasperation in their interactions.

As these two formidable figures cross paths, the question arises: will the elder Moriarty and Holmes siblings become rivals akin to their notorious counterparts, or will they chart a course entirely different from their younger siblings' paths?

Read the story here

Masterlist of what I've written

[girl-next-door-writes]

Under The Umbrella

Characters: Mycroft Holmes x reader

Summary: Mycroft shares a cigarette with you outside 221B, and feelings are felt if not expressed.

Word Count: 1013 words

Prompt: Sharing a cigarette with him under his umbrella just outside 221B; romantic but not official yet.

A/N: @russian-soft-bitch thank you for this request. I know it has taken me a while but I really like what I’ve written, and I hope you do too.  

The landscape was grey, from the rolling clouds right down to the dirty slab laden pavements, the buildings merging into the murky mistiness of the day to create a swirling vortex of drab and dreariness which was the city of London. There was a chill in the air, despite the lack of wind; the heavy drops of rain hurtling down towards the ground on a straight trajectory, bouncing up from whichever surface they reached first. The ground shimmered lightly as the streetlights began to glow, reflected in the growing pools of water, the gloom creating the illusion that the hour was much later than the 4pm it truly was.

You pulled your coat tighter in a vain attempt to stave off the chill, a light shiver rippling through your body. Mycroft noticed your actions, frowning slightly, causing his brow to furrow in a rather endearing manner. A sudden warmth around your neck had you looking up as he nonchalantly draped his scarf around you with one hand, his other holding his umbrella.  The soft cashmere smelled of his aftershave and you found your eyes fluttering closed as you inhaled deeply for a moment.

Upon opening your eyes, you saw him watching you with amusement, his face illuminated by the glowing embers of the cigarette between his lips. After taking a drag, he languidly removed the cigarette with his gloved fingers, the soft leather creaking slightly, bending and flexing around his digits as he offered the filter to you.

The sheets of rain cascaded around the pair of you, bouncing up from the ground to soak through the bottoms of your trousers and your socks. Neither of you registered the discomfort of your damp clothing clinging to your ankles. Instead, the rhythmical, soft thudding of raindrops pounding against the black umbrella he held aloft over the two of you had become your own personal soundtrack, covering the silence that blanketed your interaction, leaving only soft looks and a tantalizing tension which always seemed to indicate this was more than an acquaintance, more than two people simply in his brother’s orbit.

You took the cigarette from him, shuffling a little closer, but always careful never to make physical contact. There was always a buffer of a few inches between the two of you, something you both subconsciously maintained at all times.

He watched as your fingers raised the cigarette to your lips; unable to look away from the gentle pout, the softness of your lips, the intimacy of the gesture. Mycroft was aware of your chest rising as you inhaled, despite the many layers of clothing you were wearing, and he felt his stomach flip. Transfixed, he watched the way the thick white smoke curled from your mouth, almost taunting him. That smoke which had tenderly caressed your lips in a way he often wished he had the right to do, met with the chilly air, rising through the damp until it encountered the rain. His gaze was still on your mouth, his own lips parting slightly as his imagination began to run away with him.

How easy it would be to take you in his arms, to hold you close, to finally give in and taste your kiss instead of just fantasising about it. This moment, right here, where the two of you existed only beneath the shelter of his umbrella, would be perfect, if he could only find the courage to step off the emotional ledge. Yet, his fear of falling was too great. The humiliation of potential rejection stung as if it were real, and he simply took the cigarette from you and closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, trying to calm his nerves.

Neither of you pointed out that you had your own cigarettes, or that he had a packet in his inside jacket pocket which would allow you to each smoke separately. This was not the first time the two of you had shared a moment like this, although the rain was a new touch. The easy silence between you where all the things unsaid existed was an addiction neither of you wished to give up. The strange thing was, this was now the only time either of you smoked. A cigarette was just an excuse, a reason for you to linger there with him, and he with you.

People hurried past as you both stood at the bottom of the steps up to 221, neither of you in any hurry to leave. Sadly, the cigarette was burning down, now dangerously close to the filter, the excuse to remain was disappearing as the ash fell, seemingly disintegrating in the air as your time together came to an end.

Mycroft’s brow furrowed, and, for a brief moment, you both thought he might say something, but the words never came. Instead, you removed his scarf, offering it back to him with a soft, grateful smile.

“Keep it.” His voice was low, a little gravel making its way into his tone before he coughed to clear his throat. “Your need is greater.”

You simply nodded, wrapping the scarf around you once more, and then the two of you parted company.

Mycroft fought the urge to turn and watch you leave; he preferred to imagine you there one moment and then gone the next as if by magic. That made all the times he imagined you being by his side easier somehow. He held onto the spent cigarette, the stain of your chap-stick the only evidence that you had really been there with him this time. Pulling his cigarette packet from his jacket, he carefully slipped the butt into it, wanting to carry around a tiny part of you just for a little longer.

Perhaps, one day, these encounters may end differently. Perhaps there would come a time when nicotine would not be the thing that joined the two of you. For now, though, Mycroft made sure he always carried a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, just on the off chance your paths crossed and he could steal some time with you.

[maximwtf]

“Wicked game.”

                     Mycroft Holmes x reader 

words: 2700

google docs pages: 5

warnings: guns, drugs, needles, mentions of overdose, 

opening: Asking Moriarty to clean your name in exchange for a couple missions he had for you was a bad idea, leading you to almost overdosing and killing yourself. Who would be there to save you when the world was on fire?

AN// still trying to get used to these characters!^^

                “Wicked game.”

                             wicked game

After being an assassin for years, you had come to the realization that if you ever wanted to have a normal life, you’d have to clear your name and your whole background. But the problem was, you had no one to go to. No government official would help you, they would put you behind bars for what you had done over the years. So the only people you could turn to, were other criminals. Other powerful criminals that had the power to hide your whole past, and let you live a normal life.

Being an assassin for years, it didn’t take you long to find out about a certain consulting criminal. Jim Moriarty was his name, you heard he had done something like this for others as well. Being desperate for getting what you wanted, you had found the man and gotten some time to talk to him. He had agreed to help you, to clean your background if you did a couple missions in return. He would clear parts of your past after every mission, and at the end you’d be free to leave and live on. This seemed like a fair deal. You had seen and done it all as an assassin, so you didn’t believe he would ever be able to set you with a mission that would be impossible for you to do. 

You assumed doing the missions would take months, so you settled in London. Got yourself an apartment with the help of Moriarty, and moved in. From there you would get texts and class on the phone he had given you. The texts would tell you what to do and how, and you’d do as you were told. After the mission he would give you a piece of proof that again, a part of your past was removed from any documents.

This went on for months. You began to have relations with the people living across from your apartment building. From the window of your apartment, you could see the door that said 221B. Having talked to the people living there, you had gotten to know them as well. One of them was a military doctor, the other a detective and the landlord was the older lady. The detective seemed to be very sharp, deducing facts about people correctly by just looking at them. This intrigued you. You weren’t scared that he would find out about your business, but the way he was able to find things and solve mysteries interested you. 

While your phone was silent, you’d spend more time with the detective and his companion. The more you listened, you came to find out that they’d often talk about Moriarty, and some kind of a game he was playing with Sherlock. Listening to the things he had done and the puzzles he had given to the detective were interesting. Though your growing relations to the detective and the doctor, you kept most information about yourself to yourself. They knew your name, well your second name. Never did you give them your last name, saying that it wasn’t important. And before every meeting with them, you’d make sure there was nothing Sherlock could pick up on. To them, you were just an ordinary neighbour, interesten in their work. 

After knowing them for all that time, you got to know that Sherlock had an older brother. Mycroft Holmes. He was a high ranking government official, others calling him the government itself. Now, if Sherlock didn’t seem like a threat, his brother on the other hand did. That man had access to all the documents your information was being wiped out of and being replaced by something else. If he wanted to, he would be able to check your background. 

And that was the reason why you started being around him more often. Chatting with him, and talking about ordinary things. If you seemed like you had nothing to hide, he wouldn’t have a reason to assume something was wrong. 

This had worked, up until this point. You had come to find out that you had fallen for him. First getting to see the iceman himself, and then slowly getting to know the big brother that cared deeply about his younger brother. He was always there when Sherlock’s drug use got the best of him, making sure that he was going to be okay. He was even ready to pay people to look after his brother and report back to him if something was going on. He would sometimes invite you to breakfast with him, since he rarely had time to just hang out. 

Everything had been going well so far. Only around two missions left, and you would have been free to live a normal life. Then you would have been able to get closer to Mycroft, since he wasn’t a danger anymore. He wouldn’t be able to check any of your old documents and see your past. Though, this morning had taken a downfall. Your phone’s screen had lit up early in the morning, waking you up. It was the second last mission from Moriarty, telling you to kill a certain government official, since you seemed to be in the perfect position to do so. Of course you knew Moriarty had been watching over you, and he must have seen you grow closer to Mycroft. It didn’t take much deducing to understand that the reason you were assigned to this mission was, because Mycroft was a hard target. To Sherlock, Moriarty could easily get his hand on, but Mycroft could hide behind the government, he could probably disappear if he so wished. Now that you were close to him, Moriarty seemed to assume Mycroft wouldn’t even suspect you to try something like this. 

The whole morning you had been phasing around your apartment, thinking of ways to avoid this. Even if you somehow managed to pull this off, you would never be able to face Sherlock again as the same person. You wouldn’t be the same neighbour interested in their work, you would be the same assassin you had always been.

You heard a familiar voice under your apartment’s window. It was Sherlock and John getting a taxi to most likely go to a new crime scene. You grit your teeth together in slight panic and pulled your coat over your shoulder, before exiting the apartment. From the corner of your eye, you could spot the cab Sherlock was in. What you didn’t notice was Sherlock’s gaze on you, inspecting your movements. 

You hurried to the door with the tag ‘221B’ on it. After knocking on it, Hudson appeared from behind it, telling you that Sherlock had just left with John if you were looking for them. You shook your head, and said you had left something in his apartment earlier, and just wanted to come and grab it. She smiled at you and stepped back from the way so you could walk upstairs. “Thank you.” You said, making your way up the stairs. 

You crashed down on Sherlock’s chair, covering your face with your hands, pulling them together under your nose, the same way you had seen Sherlock do when he was thinking. You already knew you weren’t going to even try to kill Mycroft, but you had no idea what Moriarty would do to you if he found out you hadn’t completed the mission. 

While in this state of panic your gaze hit a little tray on a stool. On top of it was a needle, you weren’t one to deduce things perfectly, but from what you knew and what you had used on targets before, the liquid in the needle should have been enough for an overdose, or at least close to one. 

You reached for the needle and rolled up your sleeve. You never imagined that you would end up like this, but maybe you should have known. You had been dealing with a powerful criminal who worked in a whole web of crimes. Of course cleaning your background wasn’t going to be that easy. You positioned the needle, injecting it. You laid back on the chair, dropping the need next to it. 

While all this had been happening, the gears in Sherlock’s head had started to turn. Putting the pieces together, he had realised what was going on. You had been able to hide so well up until now. The way you had been acting this morning, the phone he had seen you use only once and even then you had hidden it quickly. The times you had disappeared off to ‘work’, and him not being able to trace what kind of work you did. You weren’t just a neighbour of theirs, somehow you were related to Moriarty, and the phone you used rarely was a way to contact him. And assuming Moriarty had sent you something to startel you by the way you had been looking around earlier, you must have been in danger. 

Sherlock looked out the window, soon realising that the cab was already so far away from baker street, that all he could do was call his brother to come and see if you were okay. Most likely, you would still be in his apartment if Hudson had let you in.

Sherlock opened his phone and called Mycroft. It took a while for him to respond, but in the end he decided to pick up. “You need to go check 221B, Y/n is most likely in danger because of Moriarty.” He quickly explained, not giving his brother time to ask any questions by ending the call. 

Back in baker street, the drugs had kicked in. You had never had time to take or try any because of your job. It required for you to be in the best shape at all times, so you’d be able to shoot even from far away with a steady hand.

You had no memory of half the things that were happening, but somehow you had ended up with a loaded gun in your hand. You stared at it while falling back down onto the chair, finger inching closer to the trigger. Surely if the needle hadn't had enough, this would do it. You thought to yourself, trying to smile. You felt dizzy, almost sleepy and because of your state you didn’t hear the door being opened aggressively and with force. You looked up at the person who had come in, and soon recognized him as Mycroft. You wanted to tell him to not come close to you, but speaking felt difficult. 

“The world was on fire and no one could save me but you.”

He stayed near the door, not wanting for you to pull the trigger. “Put down the gun.” He said, pulling up his hands to show he wasn’t going to try and force it out of your hands. “Please, Y/n, put it down.” He repeated himself, hoping you would do as he asked. You stared at him as the room spun around you, making you lean against the chair even more. He didn’t understand what you had been told to do, he didn’t understand what they would do to you if you refused to do it. You’d much rather die by your own hand than in the hands of Moriarty. “You don’t understand.” You mumbled, trying to sit up better in the chair, the gun still pointed firmly at you.

Mycroft looked around you, spotting the now empty needle on the ground next to the chair. No, he didn’t understand. He had no idea what might have caused this, but he wanted to understand. “I don’t but you can tell me, just put down the gun.” He said, turning his gaze back to you. You could feel how uneven your pulse felt, making you close your eyes for a moment.

“Strange what desire will make foolish people do.”

You thought this was the end, so might as well explain to him what had happened. “My first name is Y/n, I was a freelancer assassin for years.”  You started, trying to steady the hand that held the gun. “I ended up asking Moriarty to clean my background in exchange for a couple missions.” You hummed before opening your eyes again to look at him. “Foolish of me to think it was going to be that easy.” A small laugh escaped your mouth as you spoke. “I desired to have a normal life, to get away from my past.” You finished your speech. Mycroft thought of what you had said for a moment, trying to make it make any sense. How could you of all people- “I could have helped you.” His stiff voice said. You knew he was going to say that. “You don't know what I've done. You have most likely tried to catch me in the past as well.” You said, trying to stay conscious even if giving up felt comforting. “Well let me help you now. Put down the gun.” Mycroft repeated himself again, hoping at least the drug would make you dizzy enough to make you let go of the gun.

“I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you.”

You shook your head. “I have to do this.” Feeling the gun against your temple you continued. “He’s going to kill me if I don’t kill you.” It felt like the world stopped for a moment after that, saying it out loud for the first time. You were finally and for the first time able to care about a person enough to not be able to cold heartedly kill them. As your eyes closed again, you heard Mycroft take a couple careful steps closer to you. “You’re killing yourself. We’ll solve this together if you let me help.” He explained, making you smile. No one had ever wanted to help you for free. That's why the deal with Moriarty had felt fair. A fair price for what he was going to do for you. You coughed a couple times, feeling your pulse slow down again. “It’s too late for that.” You said, trying to hold up the hand holding the gun. You heard Mycroft crouch down in front of you. You thought of something to tell him, something you had wanted to tell him later on but it seemed like this might have been the last chance you had. “I love you, Mycroft.” Was what you had wanted to tell him, but now it just came out as a whisper. Your head began to droop before going unconscious.

“And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you.”

 Mycroft quickly caught the gun and took it out of your hands. He placed it on John’s chair, pulling out his phone so he could call Sherlock. He was too cold to say those words back to you, but he did care. Cared enough to feel sick about what had happened and what you had been assigned to do just to clear your name. He wanted to make sure you were going to live and be protected from Moriarty. 

Before he was able to call his brother, Sherlock and John came through the doorway. John didn’t waste a moment before running next to you to feel your pulse. “Their pulse is still slowing down. Call an ambulance!” He yelled out soon after, placing you to a better position on the chair. The doctor turned to look at Mycroft, seeing that he was in some type of shock. “Are you okay?” John asked, staying by your side to make sure you kept breathing. “Yes, thank you.” He said and put his phone back down. He watched as Sherlock called the ambulance and waited for them to arrive. 

You were going to live and he promised himself he’d keep you safe. 

[konigbabe]

MY WRITING LIST

⇢ List of characters (and shows) I'm willing to write for. That doesn't mean I will write something for every single character but I might write for some (eventually).

⇢ Take this list as more of who I'm willing to write for rather than who I write for.

⇢ Default pairing is "character x fem!reader" unless stated/requested otherwise.

Resident Evil

Leon S. Kennedy ┊Jack Krauser ┊Carlos Oliveira

Call of Duty

John Price ┊ Keegan P. Russ┊König┊Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

Jujutsu Kaisen (both anime and manga)

Satoru Gojo┊Mahito┊Toji Fushiguro┊Choso Kamo┊Kento Nanami ┊Sukuna Ryomen ┊Hajime Kashimo

Bungō Stray Dogs (both anime and manga)

Osamu Dazai┊Fyodor Dostoevsky┊Edgar A. Poe┊Nikolai Gogol┊Sigma ┊Jouno Saigiku ┊Tecchou Suehiro

Seraph Of The End (both anime and manga)

Shinya Hiragi┊Guren Ichinose┊Ferid Bathory┊Crowley Eusford┊Lacus Welt

Moriarty The Patriot (both anime and manga)

Sebastian Moran┊Sherlock Holmes┊Albert Moriarty┊Mycroft Holmes

The Case Study Of Vanitas (anime only)

Vanitas ┊ Noé Archiviste

Demon Slayer (anime only)

Giyu Tamioka┊Tengen Uzui┊Douma┊Muzan Kibutsuji┊Sanemi Shinazugawa┊Obanai Iguro

Heaven Official's Blessing (Tian Guan Ci Fu)

Feng Xin┊Mu Qing ┊Pei Ming ┊ Shi Qingxuan

The Founder of Diabolism (Mo Dao Zu Shi)

Lan Xichen ┊Xiao Xingchen┊Jiang Cheng

[funkymbtifiction]

REQUEST FILLED: The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes: Mycroft Holmes [INTJ 5w4]

REQUEST FILLED: The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes: Mycroft Holmes [INTJ 5w4]

Function Order: Ni-Te-Fi-Se Mycroft works for the British government, by heading up various programs for the war department. He’s working in an advisory capacity to creating innovations that would help the Brits win the wars he is sure are headed their way; he mentions to the queen that she should look to Germany, and that they need something to help them guard against the new dirigibles that…

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Honesty and Trust (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader) *PARENTAL

Characters: Mycroft Holmes X Daughter!Reader

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: Abusive and/or neglectful family, mention of threats and murder (not detailed)

Request: Can you do Mycroft x daughter reader, where he adopts her from a bad situation and tries to get her to trust him? Plzz

Life hadn’t dealt you a good card when it came to your life. Born into a dysfunctional family that clearly didn’t want any children leading to silent resentment from your parents in the form of neglect and abuse, it always had felt like it was you against the world, and you had long ago convinced yourself that there were no good people who existed, and that no one would want you or love you. It was sad that it had come to that, especially when you had thought that at a young age, but that was just how it is. The the topping on this messed up cake was the fact that your dad had been killing people on the other side of London for some reason (you didn’t know and you didn’t want to know) and your mum knew about it and had been covering for him when the police investigated him and both of them threatening you into silence, leading to even more murders. It wasn’t until a private detective showed up at your door unannounced and picked up on your uneasy body language and pleading eyes ofr him to please do something, did your dad get caught. That was a year ago. 

Now, your life was totally different. The detective who solved the case and had you removed from their lack of care, had taken you in temporarily. It went against all the rules, so he technically kidnapped you, but he was nice enough to you. He was called Sherlock, and in those few hours he had you, he just talked with you. He got to know you, your interests (which were limited) and what you wanted to do with your life. He sort of interrogated you, before he called someone. His brother. He arrived, said hello to you rather confused on why you were there, before Sherlock ushered him out the room and they spoke in hushed tones, before they arrived back in the room, Mycroft on the phone confirming something, before turning to you. “Alright Y/N, I’m now your legal guardian.” It wasn’t much longer after that that Mycroft legally adopted you. Now you lived in a big house, going to one of the best schools in the country, all your interests being invested in so you could divulge in them and become an expert in them, as well as other extra curricular activities that would help you achieve your dream job in a few years. Pretty great right? Right? On the surface it was, but for you, it was alien. Strange. Terrifying. 

This life wasn’t anything that you’re used to, and to suddenly be thrust into it didn’t feel right. You felt out of place in your expensive school uniform beside the other students who were the children of government officials, artists and the elite. And yeah, you could say your… dad, worked high in the government, and some of the girls in your class talked about how their dad knew and worked for your dad, which made them want to be your friend, which rubbed you the wrong way. Then there were the classes to teach you in perfecting you interests, and once again you were surrounded by the best, and the pressure of doing well sucked the pleasure out of it. And at the end of the day, you returned to your house that was big, cold and dark and far from comforting and homely. You had tried to pad up your bedroom with blankets, pillows and warm lighting, but the room was too big. The bed was too big. The windows were too big. You wanted your old, cramped, tiny bedroom where you could hear the cars outside every night that kept you up, the heating never on so you could excuse wrapping yourself up in several blankets as you did homework. You wanted something familiar. But above it all, the worst part was that the man who had adopted you felt like a total stranger, and despite all the kindness he had showed you, you didn’t trust it and didn’t feel comfortable coming to him about your woes, worried you’d be seen as ungrateful for it all. 

This all led you to where you were right now. You’d found the one good spot into the whole house that was cramped and the heating wasn’t the best, letting you wrap in all the fluffy blankets, and sit on a throne of pillows that you had shoved in all the crevasses of this installed closet with a sliding door. You had your laptop on a breakfast tray, and you had your homework in your lap, your books highlighted by the light coming from the screen, as well as a lamp you had also pulled in there, plugging it in with the outlet just outside. You had a bit of music playing through your earphones attached to your laptop as you worked, feeling content and comfortable for once, letting your shoulders relax as you worked. You felt like you were getting homework done quicker, and you had already decided you were going to try and do all your work in here from now on. You were in your zone, happy as could be, until there was a blinding light, making you squint, turning to look at the source- the sliding door had been pushed open, and looking down at you was Mycroft, who looked puzzled. You shyly removed your earphones, looking up at him. “Hi.” 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, looking at your little setup- one leg under the breakfast tray, the other bent with your foot under your other leg, with a book and some papers in your lap and pen in hand. 

“I’m doing homework. It’s cosy here, I like it.” You explained to him. Mycroft looked across the room at the desk in your room that was bare, everything that was usually on it now stuffed into the closet. Mycroft looked back at you, before carefully getting down on the floor with you, which was honestly surprising. He didn’t seem like the type to do that- he’d always worn suits, he was one of the most important people in the country, so it was strange to see him pull his legs into sitting cross-legged, facing you. 

“Why not do it on your bed? Is there a reason you like it there?” He asked you. 

“Well… um… it’s not really cosy in there because of how big it all is… it’s sort of overwhelming… This is the only place where I feel comfortable.” You explained to him. 

“The only place?” He questioned, and you nodded. “Is there anywhere else? At school with friends? Or doing your activities?” He asked. You hesitantly shook your head. 

“No… can I be honest?” You asked him. 

“Of course you can.” He spoke softly to you, gently pushing you to open up. 

“I feel really out of place at school- I don’t really have friends. There’s this weird hierarchy thing- some girls only want to be my friend because our dads know each other, not because they want to actually be my friend. It feels fake. It’s weird… and being in a room with tutors and other people to do with my interests makes it feel competitive and it drains the fun out of it… I don’t want to do it anymore. I want to do my interests in my own time at home.” You rambled to him. He nodded as you spoke, listening intently. “I don’t want you to think I’m being ungrateful! I really don’t. I’m eternally grateful for all this, and I’m sure I’ll get used to it-” 

“No- no, I understand. I can’t imagine how overwhelming all this change is for you, I should have eased you into it and checked in on your more.” Mycroft assured you. “Now there isn’t much I can do about school- at least for now. I’d like you to finish the school year, but if you’d like I can move you to another school, maybe a public school if you’d like? And we can stop with the extra curricular and instead I can set up your own space here at home to do it in your own time…” He listed, before looking back at your room, examining it. “How about changing the bed to a canopy bed? We can add curtains that you can shut… I’ll get you a small lap desk… maybe we could use a room divider to make the space feel smaller? How does that sound?” 

“Really? I’m allowed to do that?” You asked, Mycroft nodded reassuringly. 

“Of course you can. I just want you to be happy and comfortable, and you should feel like that in your own bedroom. I’m glad you told me so I could do something about all this.” He told you. The reassurance and getting all that off your chest made you immediately feel better about it all, sighing with relief. “Well, I’ll leave you to do your homework- would you like a snack or something? Some of those biscuits you like?” He asked as he pulled himself off the floor, grunting as he did so. 

“Yes please.” You responded. He nodded, before carefully sliding the door shut again. With you unable to see him, Mycroft smiled to himself, glad he was able to get you to open up a bit, gaining a bit of your trust. It was baby steps, but something was always better than nothing. He made a little checklist of the new things he needed to do to soothe his daughter, before going to get those biscuits.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in! 

*Not my gif

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[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage (Mycroft Holmes x Reader) Part 4

A/N- Hoping this one has come out a bit happier than the last instalment! I’m trying my best to not write Mycroft too out of character and focusing on how much more emotion he had displayed in season 4.. I have a few more chapters planned out so far and I am hoping to, at the very least, update weekly! I hope you all enjoy this chapter and, please, don’t forget to leave a comment letting me know what you think! Kind words or constructive criticism are always welcomed and inspire me to write more! Thank you!

Word Count: 4416

"Did you fancy doing anything else today? Well, this evening I suppose suits better." You asked Mycroft, clearing up the plates from dinner. Dinner here being a term used loosely- after the emotional turmoil only a few hours ago at the revelation of both yesterday's events and your inner attractions, neither of you particularly felt like cooking, or eating for that matter, and settled on a sandwich just to provide some energy.

The energy of the room had felt different now, now that everything was in the open, now that the pair of you had finally broken that barrier to move further in your relationship. It was nice, calming. The pair of you weren't children, the confirmation of shared attraction didn't mean you immediately jumped each other, or feel the need to be constantly touching in some aspect or another- but the mere idea of knowing that the attraction between you was mutual, and that you wanted to act upon that was more than enough for now. It felt incredible.

"Mmm, what did you have in mind?" He hummed back, standing from the small table in the kitchen to help you with the washing up- not that you weren't fully capable of doing so yourself, it just felt nice acting a little domestic- electing to wash the dishes himself and leaving you to dry them and put them back in the cupboard. You shrugged, closing the cupboard's door and leaning against the counter.

"St James' is just round the corner isn't it? We could go for a walk? The weather is oddly nice for September." You suggested, grinning as you watched Mycroft look down at his current attire of jogging bottoms and a band t-shirt. You didn't need the power of a Holmes to know what that face meant. "Compromise. You don't have to wear the joggers in public, but you also cannot wear a suit, I swore against it."

"If you're suggesting for me to leave my home in my undergarments you've completely lost your mind." You looked at Mycroft and allowed his brain to think a little more. "Oh bugger you can't mean-"

"You and I both know you have a pair of jeans in your wardrobe Myc. Joggers or Jeans, the choice is yours." Mycroft opened and closed his mouth multiple times before rolling his eyes and muttering something under his breath that sounded Latin. "Oi at least have the decency to do it in French so I have a chance of understanding what you say when you swear at me." You quipped, jokingly throwing two fingers up at him as he gave in and sulked up the stairs.

"Tu seras la mort de moi." His voice was still quiet, but loud enough for you to understand him.

"Et pourtant tu serais perdu sans moi." You shouted back, teasing a little. Mycroft didn't answer but smiled to himself as he walked into his bedroom, agreeing with you completely but too high in his pride to admit it. Downstairs, you rummaged through the other bags from Anthea, feeling thankful as you saw that she had equally bought you some hoodies too, pulling on a maroon one before grabbing and sliding on your boots. A few minutes later you heard Mycroft's voice from upstairs, muffled completely excluding the 'goodbye' that sounded as he left the bedroom and made his way down the stairs. "Planning my arrest were you? Should I be expected to enter the park to MI6 agents dragging me into a car and shipping me off somewhere for forcing the British government into denim?" You turned around and saw him in his change of attire, whistling approvingly at the sight of him in the dark grey pair of jeans you had bought him a few years ago- 'because you cannot walk into a pub wearing anything purchased on Savile Row, Mycroft'- and the navy blue blazer he had chosen to match with them; the small evidence of The Who's logo peeking out slightly between the lapels. It was seldom Mycroft wore such casual clothing, but feeling welcomed by your reaction certainly made him more comfortable. Maybe at some point you'd tell him it's because those jeans make his bum look incredible. Mycroft's cheeks flushed and he shook his head, ignoring the noise of encouragement you had made.

"MI5, actually, but do not be too alarmed- I've insisted they only use force if absolutely necessary." He teased, hoisting his scarf from the coat rack by the front door and expertly wrapping it around his neck. You jabbed him lightly in the arm, knowing he was joking but equally wanting to make sure the phone call wasn't from Sherlock already pestering him about something or another. "It's fine, truly. Nothing to cause government upset.. only public." You went to question what he meant but was instead caught off guard by him eyeing you up. "Are you really going out.. in that?" Mycroft gestured to your clothing and for a brief moment you felt a little insecure, frowning slightly at him. He caught on immediately and apologised. "No- I mean.. You will likely get cold, will you not? A hooded sweatshirt isn't the warmest item of clothing I can offer you." You grinned at his concern and just passed him his beloved umbrella (it wasn't raining, but that didn't make a difference) before opening the front door.

"Myc I have pulled bodies out of the River Thames wearing nothing more than a pencil skirt and a blouse, I will be fine." You grabbed his hand and tugged him outside, shutting the door behind him. He wanted to argue back but he knew any attempt would be futile- you both knew that you could be more stubborn than Mycroft and so he didn't wish to cause harm on what could be a splendid evening. You took your normal position beside Mycroft, your hand resting in the crook of his elbow, while his rested in his pocket, the other holding onto his umbrella handle. The chill of London's air brushed the back of your neck, leading you to pull the hood of your jumper over your head before continuing your walk, not allowing Mycroft to have the pleasure of knowing he was right. but also not missing the smirk that tugged at his lips as he noticed- of course he bloody did.

The short walk to the park was in a comfortable silence. Mycroft found himself thinking over today's events, how even he couldn't have predicted that this would be how it would end. He was certain you would have left earlier, he'd even prepared himself for the chances of a punch to his nose in anger, and so never in his right mind did he expect you to stay, let alone embrace him while he cried, forgive him for the unforgivable, to... kiss him. He felt childish thinking back on it, but he kept replaying that moment over in his mind. It wasn't a proper kiss, it was barely there at all, and yet, if Mycroft thought hard enough he could still feel the light pressure of your lips on his, and it left him eager for more.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Your voice distracted him as you walked down the final street before the park. He blinked, looking down at you, at your joint arms and offering a smile.

"Just that I didn't expect today to happen the way that events turned out." You opened your mouth to make a comment about how Mycroft knew everything but he cut you off. "I deduce, I cannot predict the future, Y/N."

"But you can mind read?" He raised his other hand, one finger to his mouth in a 'shhh' motion and you grinned.

"Penny for yours?" You hummed in response as you looked at yourself in the reflection of a car window and pouted, rounding the corner to walk through the park's gates.

"I look like an egg." Mycroft let out a rare laugh, caught off guard by your answer. "That you do, my dear. But a rather beautiful egg." It was your turn to flush now. Getting any form of compliment from Mycroft Holmes was a rarity, and when they did come to surface they were usually on one's intellectual skills, or the times where you'd go out to a fancy restaurant and he would claim 'your dress' was beautiful, but never you directly. Your lack of response made Mycroft nervous and he spoke again. "Apologies, upon reflection that was a very backhanded compliment." You squeezed his arm and nudged yourself in closer, welcoming in the warmth his body was emitting.

"No no, I am incredibly flattered to be deemed a beautiful egg." You laughed. "It would make a lovely epitaph don't you thi-." He tensed. "Yeah, sorry, bit soon." You continued your walk for a little further before something clicked in your mind and you stopped in your tracks. Mycroft stumbled a little at the sudden cease in movement and shot you a confused glare. "Myc.. There's nobody else here."

"Excellent observation, Y/N. I now understand why you're so well respected down the Yard."

"Git. I meant.. we're in one of the most tourist centred parts of London, in the early evening, and there's nobody here." Mycroft raised his nose a little in the air, a movement witnessed by anybody else that would be mistaken for smugness, or being pretentious. But on Mycroft you knew it meant he felt a little embarrassed, raising his head ever so higher so you couldn't see the dusting of red on his cheeks. "The phone call... Mycroft bloody Holmes did you abuse your power as a government official to rent out the entirety of St James' park so that nobody would have to see you in your jeans?" He avoided your gaze and you began to laugh, removing your hand from his arm as you wiped a tear that spilled down your cheek out of amusement before tugging him over to a bench that was a few feet away.

"Should I not have?" His tone was light, relaxed knowing that you weren't mad with him and that you found the situation entertaining.

"It's not that.. It's just that nobody else WOULD." You rubbed your numbing fingers together and tucked them inside the sleeve of your hoodie. "You. Are an extraordinary man, Mr Holmes. You never cease to amaze me." He smiled softly, tentatively reaching over to take your half sleeve covered hand into his own pale one.

"And you, are freezing." He commented. You dismissed his assessment and instead focused on the view in front of you, the slight appearance of the London Eye poking above some trees from across the Thames.

"After living here for so long, sometimes I forget how beautiful London truly is." You spoke, shuffling the rest of your hand from your sleeve to lace your fingers between his. He hummed in agreement as he watched on. "And you stole this view from thousands of visitors this evening for the sake of your own dignity and so we could be alone. What do you have? People guarding every entrance? A few loitering around somewhere to make sure there were no stragglers? Christ are they armed? It just so.. so.." Mycroft felt himself become uncomfortable.

"I can be a very selfish person Y/N, you know that."

"I was going to say sexy but now I feel as though I'm not being as sympathetic to the tourists as you were expecting me to be." Mycroft tensed again and you leant to rest your head on his shoulder. "You should probably try to get used to that. I've been waiting a fairly long time to actively be allowed to say things like that to you and it not sound really weird, so I'm making up for lost time."

"How long?" His voice was quiet, likely his mind recovering from you, for the second time that day, calling him such a thing. It wasn't that he didn't like it, he was extremely flattered, but he just found it very hard to believe that you truly thought that way about him; that anyone could. You thought for a moment, childishly using your fingers to count.

"How long since I realised I had a thing for you? As of today it's been 5 years, 3 months and 17 days.. or, in less creepy terms to not make it seem like I've been counting, 2 weeks before I broke up with Thomas. It didn't feel fair to keep dragging him along, especially when I started to look forward to meeting you for dinner much more than I did meeting him for our weekly date night. He's a lovely guy and deserved more than that. I tried for those couple of weeks to get over it but I couldn't." Mycroft stayed silent but you could practically hear his brain whirring. "How long did I wish that you somehow felt the same way about me? Probably 5 minutes after the last thought." You laughed, feeling ridiculous for sounding like a school girl with a crush. "What about you? Pining after me for long or just spontaneously after I kissed you?" You joked, trying to make the whole ordeal feel a little less embarrassing. Mycroft shifted in his seat, laying his focus in the warmth that he could feel spreading to your hand that he held in his. He wasn't the type for large exclamations of emotion, or really speaking about the way he feels at all. But, upon hearing your revelation, he bit the bullet and spoke.

"I have never been the kind of man to experience typical human emotion. Until yourself and Gregory came along, I hadn't even the experience of having acquaintances, let alone.. friends." His eyes stayed forward, watching as the London Eye rotated slowly and focusing on its movements. "Approximately 6 months prior to the time you have mentioned, I began to realise that the way I felt towards you was far different to the way I felt about Gregory, and not the same way I feel towards Sherlock. I pressed the thought into the back of my mind for the better part of a year, before Sherlock told me that you were 'obviously' experiencing some kind of affection towards me, which I told him was preposterous, but from then the thought of you in that aspect felt welcoming. I had never expected in my life to have those kinds of emotions for anybody, let alone have them reciprocated, but I still chose to ignore them. I chose to keep you as my friend rather than risk losing you at all.. Then Eurus happened. Seeing you on that.. screen. Knowing what they could do.. Knowing I could lose you anyway.. it flicked something inside of my brain that made me regret not talking to you about it sooner. I was trying to work out the right way to bring it up, but then you did it for me." The side of his mouth flicked up into a small smile and disappeared, the embarrassment of talking so much on emotion taking over.

"You still look cute when you're embarrassed." You commented, not wanting to elaborate on his wordings more. It meant everything to you that he had even said that much, so you weren't going to push him further out of his comfort zone by pestering on. "Though as much as I'd love to look at your little flustered cheeks in this moonlight, I have to admit that you were right and I am bloody freezing, can we go back?" You took your hand back from his briefly to rub against your other one, a feeble attempt to bring warmth back into your fingertips. Though warmth soon enveloped round your neck as you felt Mycroft begin to wrap his cashmere scarf around you, folding and wrapping it expertly until you felt comfortably warm, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of his cologne that loitered in the fabric.

"I'm always right." He grinned smugly, standing from the bench and offering his elbow out to you once more. You nudged it away, missing the disappointed look on Mycroft's face, before instead grabbing his hand, lacing your fingers between his and tucking them into his pocket for warmth, your other arm folding over your body to hold his arm.

"I'll prove you wrong on that at some point, mark my words." You beamed, starting the walk back to Queen Anne's Gate and relishing in the warmth of the taller man beside you. Mycroft couldn't hide the small smile that appeared on his face from your action, choosing himself to push closer and close the gap between you even more. He swiftly pulled his phone from his pocket, leaving his umbrella dangling from his wrist, as he made a quick call to Anthea.

"I suppose we better let the tourists have their park back.. at least for now." He spoke, more to you than to Anthea but nonetheless she relayed the message to security who began to pack up and reopen the gates to the public. It had barely been a minute before they had all left, all except the PA in question who watched on fondly upon seeing the pair of you leaving, fighting the urge to text the man that it was about damn time.

***

The walk back was incredibly quick and you soon found yourselves walking back through the front door, discarding layers of warmer clothing, Mycroft opting to put the sweats back on in place of his jeans.

"I'm thinking we have a cuppa and then head to bed? I'm knackered." You proposed, flicking the kettle on and settling back to rest on the edge of the kitchen counter. Mycroft hummed in agreement, reaching to grab the necessities. You quickly kicked off from the counter and wandered back into the front room, pulling Mycroft in tow. "Seems as good a time as any to have some music on, Greg made me this mixtape a few weeks ago. He said it's some classics I already love, and a bunch that I'm going to, so it sounds pretty promising." From behind you Mycroft opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off. "If you're about to chastise me for calling a CD a mixtape, don't waste your breath. Mix-CD just sounds horrendous." He stayed silent, inwardly amused at the fact you hadn't even seen his face and yet knew exactly what he was going to say, and you called him the 'mind-reader'. The Kinks began to play quietly through the speakers, 'Have a Cuppa Tea' fittingly being the first song to play on shuffle. Usually you despised any type of mixtape, or 'best of' albums, claiming rather strongly that they defeated the point of artists bringing out the original albums, ruining the story behind each one. But when it came to Greg you trusted him completely with music taste and had never been disappointed thus far. The click of the kettle in the kitchen sounded, making you walk into the other room and prepare your drinks- you hadn't bothered asking Mycroft the way he had it, you had that burnt to memory years ago. Perching back onto the sofa besides Mycroft, you handed him the beverage and sighed in content.

"You missed the Sex Pistols. Forgive me if I cannot hear you for the next 20 minutes, I have a feeling that my ears have bled." He teased, taking a sip of his tea and settling it on the table beside him. Before you had a chance to answer, another Kinks song began to sound in the room, the slower rythm of Waterloo Sunset.

"You're going to pay for saying those things, you know I love the Sex Pistols." You pouted, moving your own tea to the coffee table. "I think, Mr Holmes, you need to dance with me in ways of apology." You grinned, standing up and holding your hand out to him. "It's a rare slower song from Lestrade's musical repertoire so I'm not expecting you to start headbanging or anything.."

"Do people slow dance to Rock music normally?" He asked, smiling.

"No they don't.. but when have you ever been a man who follows the rules of normality?" He took your hand at that, standing himself up and leading you to an emptier part of the room, tea forgotten. You softly placed your hands on his shoulders and rested your head on his chest, his reaching round to settle on the small of your back as you began to sway together slowly, the only sound that could be heard was the music and Mycroft's erratic heartbeat that he was sure meant he was going to have a heart attack. "See, this is nice." He hummed in agreement, the vibrations of his deep voice reaching his chest and vibrating against your cheek. "We could have done this years ago.." You commented, thinking on all the lost time you had with Mycroft, all of the years you had listened to music together and could have danced, holding each other as close as you were now.

"We'd have struggled being as Gregory only gave you this CD a few weeks ago.." You laughed and swatted his shoulder.

"You know what I mean.. oh the power of cowardice and fear." You closed your eyes, holding onto this moment as though you had never wanted it to end. Alas, the song began to come to a close, and yet neither of you made an attempt to move. The instrumental introduction to your favourite Clash song began to play and you grinned. "Now this is a song. I'm surprised Greg put it on here, I'd have thought he'd be sick of it by now with the amount of times I play it at work." As the vocals began you felt Mycroft stiffen in your arms, the fingers on the hands on your back began to dig into your skin slightly, not painful, but protective and his heartbeat picked up pace even more.

"Could we skip this one? Please?" His tone of voice was different this time, not the calm, relaxed voice that he had earlier, nor the playful one he had only moments ago. He sounded.. unsettled.

"You're joking right? Mycroft this relationship will have a rocky start if you force me to turn of The Clash at all, let alone bloody 'Death or Glory.'" He tensed again hearing the song's title.

"Please.. it's the one.." Your brain began to piece together his words and you lifted your head from its position on his chest, looking up and seeing the pained expression on his face. Of course, out of every song in the world, this was the one you were listening to when Mycroft said he saw you on the screen, inches away from death. You closed your eyes and sighed.

"I'm not letting this happen. I'm okay, I'm here, alive. This is my happy song, and I have so many wonderful memories from it." It wasn't a lie. The sound held memories of countless car rides with Greg, it was the song that played when you had the phone call about your promotion at work. It had even been playing when your sister phoned up to let you know that she was pregnant with your niece. Both times. It was a bloody good song. "I understand why you don't like it, but you just need to associate it with something better, give it a new memory." You moved your arms from his shoulders to wrap around his neck, shifting one hand to place onto his cheek as you reached yourself up on your tiptoes to become closer to his height.

You caught his focus, making his eyes land on your own rather than being dazed as his mind went back to you dancing on that screen. You leaned yourself in closer, just enough for your lips to ghost over his own, before closing the gap. Unlike the last peck you had given him, this was a far more passionate kiss, giving him the emotion you had kept pent up for the last five years. His grip on your back softened, one hand reaching to your upper back to push you closer to him, his lips moving against yours beautifully. His body began to relax, the tension in his shoulders disappeared as he leant himself forward, easing you back flat on your feet. Had you have not known any better, you would have never guessed that Mycroft had never kissed somebody before; he was just a bloody quick learner. You ran your tongue along his bottom lip softly, grinning as he let out a quiet moan. The need for air soon took over and you allowed yourself to separate, not moving any further than leaving your foreheads touching. "There. Now when we hear it, that's what you need to think of instead. Christ knows I will be." You laughed, your hands guiding themselves from his neck slowly down his chest and pushing him back slightly. "I'm going to go shower, so meet me upstairs? I know I promised more Hardy but I would really like to go to sleep if it's all the same to you." Mycroft only nodded, feeling you peck his lips once more before disappearing out of the room. The song had finished by now, having been replaced by who Mycroft believed were The Rolling Stones, but he wasn't really listening.

He stood still in his spot, mind replaying over the moment as he smiled fondly to himself. He could hear the shower running upstairs along with your voice, muffled but clear enough to understand that you were still singing along to the last song. Placing his fingers against his lips, Mycroft tried to imitate the pressure you had placed on them moments ago, thinking about how your lips felt against his, properly this time, not just the two second thing on the sofa this morning. His chest felt warm, stomach flipping and in a rare moment Mycroft felt genuinely happy. In all his life up to this moment, caring had never been an advantage, had always led to him getting hurt. But maybe, just maybe, you were right about how you were going to prove him wrong one day. And he hoped to whatever sentient being that may or not be watching over him that you were going to prove him wrong about that.

[alphardofthealley]

thoughts on the yuumori S1 dub

I'm not really one to watch dubs, but when the characters are canonically british, this one is a godsend I never knew I needed (๑˃ᴗ˂)

a brief overview:

thoughts on their voices in english

very nice parts ❤️

parts that were changed — which worked

parts that were a bit wrong

anticipations for the s2 dub!

﹡ ﹡ ﹡ ﹡

thoughts on their voices in english

british accents!! thank you

absolutely loved:

john is just stellar! his voice fits perfectly — I cannot emphasise just how right it sounds, 10/10 casting (〃ω〃)

sherlock’s voice is deep oooh — he sounds like a sherlock, if you get what I mean

miss hudson!! she has just the right amount of snark: in ep8, her “Mr Watson is a down-to-earth gentleman — unlike you” cracks me up every single time 😆

liked:

william and louis are quite cool — I think their voices fit very nicely

young william is so cute!

okay:

albert sounds posh: a bit like aziraphale from good omens, idk

moran sounds… older than I thought, or rather more like his actual age (35)

didn’t manage to hear enough of fred to form a solid opinion, though I suppose that’s to be expected

sometimes it feels like in an effort to keep up the accent, the ends of some sentences get garbled

very nice parts ❤️

please do watch them, it adds another dimension to the anime :3

ep6: sherlock and william's first encounter on the noahtic — william's part was especially *ahem* blush-inducing (〃ω〃)

ep10: sherlock and john’s argument — the sheer emotion! I liked it better than the jp version

ep11: william’s “unmistakably” and sherlock’s “obviously” — the attitude in those lines

ep11: sherlock’s apology to john — it feels more awkward and heartfelt! I like it better than the jp version as well

Aside: Mycroft is a Sir?! ohoho

parts that were changed — which worked

<spoilers for the dub!>

Sherlock’s overall attitude

He’s generally more subdued in the dub, in contrast to JP Sherlock who goes from 0 to 100 real quick, and is also very loud about it. Still, I really like his laugh in the dub — it’s quieter yet mirthful, and so openly joyous! x)

Sherlock calls William by his first name before calling him “Liam”

It is a change from the source material, but I think it adds a bit more nuance to this interaction:

The scene:

Sherlock calls William “William” when he suggests that they have a contest of deduction; William accepts

Then Sherlock argues with the Yard officers, saying they’ll solve the case in 48 minutes, and looks to William for confirmation, saying “Right, Liam?” — from now on, he calls him “Liam” as usua

Thoughts:

I see it as that Sherlock was trying to feel out their relationship at the start: after all, he’s only met William once, and is not entirely sure how the man will react

Moreover, it’s not a major concession: it’s still very informal to call someone by their first name in that era, especially when they haven’t given you express permission to do so (like John to Sherlock) — notice how Sherlock never calls Miss Hudson and Lestrade by their first names, despite knowing them for much longer than William

And once William accepts his offer, Sherlock goes one step further and gives him a nickname, hence matching up with the source material; in the end, the level of familiarity is unchanged

I think this is what’s going to happen in the official english manga translation as well, though Volume 5 (with the back half of the Two Detectives arc) hasn’t been released yet

"Come and catch me if you can, Mr Holmes"

I actually like how they tweaked the lines here, so that the flow of the conversation made just a little more sense:

The scene:

William tells Sherlock it’s his job to prove he’s the Lord of Crime; Sherlock then asks him what he would say if he were the Lord of Crime

Then William says “Come and catch me if you can, Mr Holmes”; Sherlock laughs; William is all like, “Yeah I thought you’d derive satisfaction from that” /smiles/, and the scene continues as in the original Japanese version

Thoughts:

I think it makes a lot more sense this way — like it sets up a pretext for William cracking a “joke” out of the blue, with someone he’s still unfamiliar with

Though I was (still am) a bit frustrated about why they changed a line that’s already in English, come to think of it, if you were to write their dialogue purely from an English point of view, this is exactly what William would’ve said

Like in Japanese, we’re able to excuse some technically odd lines in English due to the mix in languages (see also: Sherlock’s “Why me?” in the Final Problem arc)

So part of me appreciates that they made this choice

Though I'm not sure why the back part of William’s line sounds distorted? It’s like he tried to stop himself from laughing as he said it, and for some reason they chose not to re-record the line 😥

*An aside on Louis's name

The dub also led me to agree that his name should technically be spelled “Lewis”:

I think it’s because of the way it’s pronounced in the dub — “Lew-is”, and not “Loui-s”, which would be a bit closer to the actual French pronunciation

Still, it feels more fitting that all three brothers have the names of kings — the name Lewis can feel a little common when placed alongside names like William and Albert

parts that are a bit wrong

and here are some gripes I need to get off my chest haha

Episode 8: Miss Hudson refers to John as “Mr Watson” — but presumably she would’ve known by now that he’s a doctor, and so she should’ve referred to him as “Dr Watson”

Victorians were very particular about titles (in the Sherlock canon, Holmes always called Watson a doctor too)

Episode 8: At the crime scene, Drebber was referred to as “a lord” when he should be called “an earl” instead:

"He is an earl" — ok

"He’s Lord Drebber" — ok

"He’s a lord" — not quite

Though they did use the proper term afterward...

Episode 11: William shouldn't be called “Lord Moriarty”, as that form of address is reserved for Albert, the oldest son

Instead, William should be addressed as “Mr Moriarty”

Carried over from the JP version: The royal cyphers on the policemen’s helmets are wrong!

(screencap from S1 ep11) (sorry john, I couldn't find a better image)

Notice the “E R II”: This is Queen Elizabeth II’s cypher, not Queen Victoria’s...

finally, some anticipations for the s2 dub!

I wonder how they’ll handle the king of bohemia’s voice! his “good night, mr sherlock holmes” was very nice in jp — I wonder if they they can top that? :3

and seeing (hearing?) how they cast moran’s dubbed voice, I wonder how they’ll handle patterson, who’s even older than moran 🧐

will herder have a german accent? oooh

...will we ever be ready to hear the final episode in english ( ; ω ; )

[ebaeschnbliah]

SCANDINAVIAN  REFERENCES

________________________________________________________________

In Sherlock BBC - and also a little bit outside of it 

While writing on DISTRACTION & CONSEQUENCES and CABIN ON THE MEADOW, involving Phil with his ‘explosive’ car and the Hiker with the bashed-in head, I couldn’t fail to notice that Phil’s unmoving car is a SAAB … which is a Swedish brand. 

According to the informations given during the promotion campaingn for the Escapre Room, TheGameIsNow, Sherlock lives currently in Sweden. Since these aren’t the only occasions where Scandinavian regions are mentioned in Sherlock BBC, the suspicion inevitably arose that those references could be of some importance. Reason enough to make another little list. :)

TBC below the cut ….

Short definition of Scandinavia

The term Scandinavia in local usage covers the three kingdoms of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden. 

In English usage, Scandinavia also sometimes refers to the Scandinavian Peninsula, or to the broader region including Finland and Iceland.  x

A Scandal in Belgravia

As mentioned above, Phil’s immobile car, which ‘explodes’ and thus distracts the Hiker who, as a consequence, is killed by his own boomerang, is of the Swedish brand SAAB. 

The Empty Hearse

Mr. Howard Shilcott, the ‘train guy (and mirror for Sherlock), possesses important informations about the Underground station at Sumatra Road, which once was built but then closed before it ever opened. He wears a ‘funny hat with earflaps’ made of Islandic sheep wool. That hat becomes an object of significance when Sherlock invites his brother to play deductions with him, just like in the old days.

MYCROFT: The earlier patches are extensively sun-bleached, so he’s worn it abroad – in Peru. SHERLOCK: Peru? MYCROFT: This is a chullo – the classic headgear of the Andes. It’s made of alpaca. SHERLOCK: No. MYCROFT: No? SHERLOCK: Icelandic sheep wool. Similar, but very distinctive if you know what you’re looking for. I’ve written a blog on the varying tensile strengths of different natural fibres.

His Last Vow

The main villain of this episode is designed after Doyle’s British character Charles Augustus Milverton. For some reason, in this adaptation, name and origin of the man have been changed into Charles Augustus Magnussen, who is now from Denmark. The fact that he is ‘foreign’ is driven home explicitly right at the beginning of the episode by the dialogue as well as the accent of the man, who is played by Danish actor Lars Mikkelsen.

GARVIE: Do you think it right that a newspaper proprietor, a private individual and, in fact, a foreign national should have such regular access to our Prime Minister? MAGNUSSEN: I don’t think it’s wrong that a private individual should accept an invitation. However, you have my sincere apologies for being foreign.

The Six Thatchers

Mr. Kingsley, a client, thinks that Sherlock’s deductions, once explained, are actually dead simple. Highly annoyed, Sherlock spontaneously invents a ludicrous story and tells the shocked man that his wife is actually Greta Bengtsdotter, Swedish by birth and the most dangerous spy in the world. She secretly works for none other than James Moriarty and uses her unsuspecting husband as cover to hide her true intentions which will finally precipitate in World War III. 

The first location Mary visits on her hiatus is Norddal in Norway. That’s a small place (ca. 1660 inhabitants) deep inside the Storfjord. Here she picks up a fake passport hidden inside the stonewall of a coastal watchtower. Her new name, Gabrielle Ashdown, is taken from TPLOSH, where Holmes chooses the pseudonym ‘Mr. and Mrs. Ashdown’ for himself and Gabrielle Valladon, the woman who consulted him in the case of her missing husband but is actually Ilse von Hofmannsthal, a German spy who pretends to be Mrs. Valladon. 

The Final Problem

One of the very last scenes of this episode shows a man dressed as Viking, including the (cliched) horned helmet. He lies motionless on the floor in the livingroom of 221b Baker Street (played by Paul Weller). John bends over him and examines his left eye. 

Vikings were highly skilled Norse seafarers who raided and pillaged (like pirates) with their infamous longboats (also well known as dragonboats). They acted as mercenaries but also as merchants, who traded goods across wide areas of Europe, North Africa, the Middle East, European Russia and the North Atlantic islands. Some of them even reached the North-Eastern coast of North America. (X)

That Viking is not the only character in this story who ‘wears horns’. Furthermore, cow horns are also connected to the eye-goddess Hathor, whose other, dangerous side is represented by lioness goddess Sekhmet.

The way this Viking lays there … one leg sharply angled at the knee, the foot shoved beneath the other, outstretched leg and both arms straight beside his torso … it’s a bit odd and strangely reminds me of the ‘dancing men’ drawn on the blackboard in the shot displayed immediately before this one. It almost looks like the way this man lies there could have some meaning. 

And something else comes to mind: the way John bends over the Viking stunningly resembles the scene from Magnussen’s office in HLV, when Sherlock got shot by Mary. One could even say, there are three potential ‘pirates’ gathered in Magnusson’s bedroom in that scene ... Sherlock, John and ‘Viking descendent’ Magnussen. Interesting ...

The Game is Now - Escape Room Promotion

With the cliffhanger of The Final Problem in mind and still no official announcement regarding a fifth series on the horizon, one could come to the assumption that the ‘TheGameIsNow- EscapeRoom’ event serves as a sort of interlude and somehow resembles a ‘SherlockBBC-Hiatus’ (hopefully). Isn’t it interesting that here too, Scandinavia seems to play a role?

During the conversation with Mycroft, in the intercepted message Nr 1, Sherlock mentions that he currently is in Sweden. 

During the intercepted message Nr 2 a map of Scandinavia is shown in the background with informations regarding its natural recources: iron ore, copper, zinc, gold, IKEA and uranium. 

Additionally Mycroft confirms a second time where his brother might be found at the moment: ‘Missing, rumoured to be in Sweden’ is written below a picture of Sherlock, kept in black and white, but temporarily overlaid with pink and green  (Study in Pink and Green)

Scandinavian canon reference regarding the ‘hiatus’

In Doyle’s original story The Empty House, Sherlock Holmes tells Dr. Watson after their reunion that, for some time during his hiatus, he had stayed in Norway under a fake identity. 

“You may have read of the remarkable explorations of a Norwegian named Sigerson, but I am sure that it never occurred to you that you were receiving news of your friend.” (ACD, The Empty House)

Using Sherlock’s own words from The Great Game, one could say that, by now, the story told in Sherlock BBC as well as the EscapeRoom event have a …  ‘distinctly Scandinavian feeling about it’.  :)

Some Scandinavian side notes outside Sherlock BBC

Not Sherlock related. Should be taken with caution and humor: 

Radio Times, November 2018:  Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss reveale that Danish actor Claes Bang will be playing Dracula in their new series. ‘Hell has a new boss’ says the headline. Strictly speaking, the boss in Hell is generally considered to be the Devil (maybe also his grandma :) but surely not Dracula, who is after all just a human who desired immortal strength to protect and revenge the ones whom he loved. At least, that’s the story told in ….

Dracula Untold  (2014) -  some quotes:

"One day I will call on you to serve me in an immortal game of revenge … to unleash my wrath against the one who betrayed me."

“This is not a game!”

"Oh, what better way to endure eternity. For this, is the ultimate game. Light versus dark, hope versus despair. And all the world's fate hangs into the balance." 

Vlad Dracula meets his creator         Let the games begin

“You want me to shake hands with you in Hell? I shall not disappoint you.“  (Sherlock at Jim Moriarty, TRF)

How Dracula BBC came into being

“It came about several years ago,” Gatiss said. “We were filming  — we’d just started the third series of Sherlock, where he comes back from the dead, and we had to break off after two days to go to the RTS Awards (March, 2013) and I had a picture on my phone of Benedict silhouetted against the door of Mrs Hudson’s room. I showed it to Ben Stephenson, who was then the Head of Drama [at the BBC], and I said, ‘Looks like Dracula’. And he said, ‘Do you want to do it?'”  (RadioTimes, April 2019)

“We’re gonna go all Dane“

The same article from RadioTimes, contains an interview with Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. When asked about their upcomming mini-series ‘Dracula’, if there will be more ‘homegrown talents’ among the cast, the producers answered the question in their most familiar way - with lots of laughter and giggling - obviously taking much pleasure in the announcement of their new ‘informations’.

“No, no ..., it’s strictly Dane from now on. We're only casting over Denmark. I don’t think Denmark’s being sufficiently represented and so we’re gonna go all Dane.”  

Strictly Danes …. well, well …. I’m more curious than ever ... and extremely exited!  :))))  

On Scandinavian name-giving tradition

It is a well known custom in Scandinavian regions to create personal names based on the given name of one’s father, grandfather or male ancestor by adding the ending -son/-sen/-søn or -dotter/-dottir/-dattir. This is called a patronymic (while the same method based on the mother’s name is called matronymic). A good example for this in Sherlock BBC is the character Charles Augustus Magnussen …. Magnus-sen = son of Magnus. 

This kind of Scandinavian name-giving tradition is based entirely on first names. Just assuming though, this method would also be applied to last names, then ... a female descendent of someone with the family name ‘Bang’ could be named ... ‘Bangsdotter’. :)))

A last funny detail:  the subtitles for Sherlock BBC, Series 4 (British Edition), display the name of the famous Swedish spy, Sherlock invents in TST, as Greta Bengsdotter. The correct spelling of the first name of Greta’s father (used here as patronymic) isn’t Beng though …. but Bengt.

Bengt (female, Bengta) is the Swedish equivalent of … Benedict.   :)))

As I said above ... to be taken with caution and humor.  :)))))

Thanks @callie-ariane for the scripts.    Related post by @tendergingergirl

Mai 2019

[thebeethathums]

ASC- A New Friend 13/?

John Watson x Reader x Mycroft Holmes

Notes: Transfering my old fics from 2014 to here! This is the John branch of the A Second Chance story. If you are looking for the Mycroft branch it is called ASC- A New Beginning.

As always if you can’t find the next chapter message me or check out my DeviantArt or Archive of Our Own under the same username.

You quite literally bumped into John as you came out of your room, both of you giving a little awkward chuckle as you stepped back to create a gap between the two of you. He took a moment to look you over, you had changed into a worn pair of jeans with a hole in the knee of one leg and a plaid green button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up over your elbows. Your long hair was up in a sensible ponytail that just added to how casual your overall look was. You offered him a quick grin, “Sent to deal with me again I see. I bet Sherlock asked you to wake me if I was sleeping.” John nodded, “I told him no.”   “Thank you for that but it was unnecessary. I’m actually going out,” you laughed lightly. “Out?” he echoed, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

You fought the urge to giggle and nodded, “For a walk. It’s a nice enough day and I need some fresh air. You are welcome to join me if you’d like. It would save you the trouble of having to report back to my family and I wouldn’t mind the company.” Slipping past him, you started on your way to the door, sock covered feet making hardly any sound, and he trailed you like a lost puppy, “Shouldn’t you rest?” You made your way down the stairs, tossing an answer over your shoulder, “I’m used to not getting much sleep. I did live with Sherlock for quite some time and I don’t have to tell you that he can keep you up for days on end when something motivates him enough.” “But you haven’t been home in what… six years was it you said? You would have me believe that in all that time your habits didn’t change?” You paused to pull open the front door, sparing him a quick fleeting glance to find that he looked genuinely concerned. You shook your head, “I appreciate your concern, John, but I promise you I’m fine. My job requires as much of me as Sherlock’s does and with all the traveling, my body is accustomed to abrupt changes and long periods without sleep.” The mud on your shoes from the day before flaked off when you banged the soles against the top step and you quickly slipped them on while John ventured, “What is your job exactly?” “Shall I assume you’re coming with me then?” you wondered, quirking an eyebrow at him, and he nodded, prompting you to continue, “Consulting Conflict Resolution Specialist is my official title. Sherlock came up with it back when I first started working cases with him so people would be impressed when he introduced me. Personally, I prefer problem solver- when people need something fixed they come to me.” “So what do you actually do?” John asked, walking beside you as you meandered down a path that led off the grounds. “A little bit of everything I suppose. I can be a detective when needed or an information gatherer and sometimes I do damage control type things but mostly I’m a mediator and a negotiator.” “Sound interesting.” You offered him a little grin, “It never gets old and people hardly ever get along so I’m always busy.” A comfortable silence settled in as you walked and then he wondered, “What you do requires a lot more patience and people skills than what Sherlock does… you two seem so different. How is it you became friends in the first place?” You chuckled, “It’s a long story that I’ll save for another time but I guess you could say that we were drawn to each other by the level of intelligence we share… we just happened to have different strengths- much like you and him do now.” John looked confused and you let out an amused hum, “You didn’t think he chose you to accompany him on his cases just because you happened to be there, did you?” “Actually, I kind of did,” he admitted, giving a short laugh. “Sherlock chose you because you not only put up with his antics but you keep him grounded as well. There are a lot of things he is not good at but reading people’s character- that is something he is almost terrifyingly superb at. I doubt he anticipated you’d become a friend but he certainly chose you for who you are and your skill set.” John looked to be thinking that over when you glanced his way to add, “I can see why he did. You’re a rather remarkable man, John Watson.” The pink tint that came to his cheeks was entirely out of his control and you let out a mirthful giggle as you linked your arm with his, “You’re so fun to fluster.” He gave a small, embarrassed chuckle but leaned against your side slightly, causing you to shoot him a sidelong glance and a shy smile. He couldn’t figure you out. One second you were teasing him and flirting and the next you were chewing you lip shyly and avoiding his gaze- were you messing with him or did you like him? Both of you enjoyed the silence as you walked arm in arm, each of you relishing the fresh air and a chance to sort through your respective thoughts. You contemplated your argument with Sherlock earlier over your attraction to John, wondering what your brother was playing at by questioning his friend’s merits as a potential match for you and then contradictingly sending him to check on you. You were trying to convince yourself that he was just being meddlesome for the sake of being meddlesome when John cleared his throat, drawing your attention to him as he wondered, “How did you know those things? Last night I mean?” “Power of observation. I’m inclined to agree with Sherlock- people often look but rarely see.” He pursed his lips in what looked to be something very close to a dissatisfied pout and you hummed softly in amusement before explaining, “Your full name was on the train ticket Mycroft bought you and your status as a doctor was obvious the moment you opened the front door for me from your handshake. The kitchen was a mess and I didn’t have to open the cabinets to know they were empty but there was a pan in the sink signifying that someone was at least attempting to cook and since it obviously wasn’t Sherlock that left you. As for wanting a night to yourself and a new password- everyone needs time off from Sherlock when living in close proximity and the man rarely uses his own computer when he knows he can guess the password of someone else’s. You don’t seem like one to come up with a password tricky enough to keep Sherlock out of your things- no offense.” There was a moment of quiet and you wondered if maybe you’d gone a bit too far, you still didn’t know John very well after all, before he broke out in a wide grin, “That was fantastic!” You had to stop walking, you started to laugh so hard, and he gave you a confused look. Between laughs, you managed to choke out, “No wonder Sherlock keeps you around- you’re remarkable and you willingly stroke his ego.” You slowly recovered, offering him a wide grin, “Where have you been all my life? Sherlock would have been so much easier to live with with you around.” John went to respond when the grey sky finally decided it had had enough and started to shower you with a light rain. You quickly grabbed John’s hand and took off at a run, glad that you were close enough to your destination that you didn’t have to go very far in the rain. The both of you were panting softly by the time you pulled him under a large gnarled looking tree with branches enough to shelter you from the water falling from the sky. You exchanged a glance and then started giggling, John with his hands on his knees as he tried to recover his breath and you leaning on his shoulder for support. Once your shared case of the giggles died down, you moved over to the tree trunk, tracing the double helix DNA scar Sherlock had carved into it when you were teens. John stepped over behind you, running a hand over the Oxytocin molecule you’d drawn next to it, “You and Sherlock came to this tree often, didn’t you?” “Whenever we wanted to get away,” you nodded, “I used to come alone and then one day he followed me and it became our place.” “What does this stand for?” he asked, giving an upwards nod to the mark under his hand. You offered him a small smile, pointing to the DNA, “Teenage boredom. He carved the strand of DNA and said nearly everything alive is made of the same building blocks- from this tree to him and me. I carved the chemical structure of Oxytocin- the hormone that is believed to be responsible for intimacy. It was a good-natured jab at his claim that relationships were pointless since even science accounts for the human need for intimacy- it's in our biology.” “How did he respond to that?” You waved a hand for him to follow and walked around the wide trunk to pat another carving, “He carved one of the proposed structures of Humic acid. It’s produced by the breakdown of organic matter. He reasoned that since it is found where something has died or decayed, essentially everywhere, that we are always surrounded by death just as much as we are surrounded by life.” “Wow, that’s…” “Dark? Sherlock’s always been a bit morbid,” you chuckled. “He’s such a hypocrite- he keeps saying my blog romanticizes the truth but this seems oddly poetic,” John huffed tracing a finger over the scared bark and you placed a hand on his shoulder with the soft lilt of a laugh hitting his ears a moment later. He glanced over at you, “Why did you bring me here?” “It’s quiet and I like it here. I thought I would share,” you shrugged, walking back around the tree and sticking your hand outside its circumference to feel the rain that was still coming down. John just watched you for a moment, rubbing at his hair to help it dry. Your hair was plastered to your face and neck and your clothes were covered in a smattering of darker spots just like his but you didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. A smile curved at your lips as you caught some of the rain in your cupped hands before letting it fall to the ground with a little splash. You’d brought him someplace with a lot of meaning to you, shown him part of your life that he doubted anyone aside from you and Sherlock had ever seen. There was definitely something to that no matter how casually you'd brushed it off. He took a few steps closer to you and you suddenly turned, running into him again, but this time you didn’t step away and neither did he. Your chin lifted to look at him- he wasn’t much taller than you, maybe an inch or so, and your eyes were nearly level. You appreciated that for a moment since with Sherlock you always head to crane your neck to look him in the eyes and you could never quite see into them over the distance. With John it was different, you could see the grey-blue of his eyes quite clearly and it was almost as though you were looking into his very soul. You tilted your head slightly as you thought, ‘People say that, right? The eyes are windows to the soul or something like that?’ Neither of you noticed that the gap between you was slowly growing smaller as you each searched the other’s eyes until your lips were about to touch and you stopped staring as they fluttered closed. The moment of contact never came as the loud sound of a car horn startled you apart. John looked royally peeved when you both turned to find Mycroft, sitting almost smugly in the driver’s seat of the same grey Bentley you’d taken from the station. He raised an expectant eyebrow and the two of you scrambled over to hop in, finding the floor and seats already covered with towels to keep the interior clean. Mycroft simply offered, “Mother sent me to see to it you didn’t walk back in the rain and catch a cold,” as an explanation for his presence, turning the car around to take you back to the house. You gave him a wide grin and a thank you before starting up a conversation about one of the books you’d both read while John crossed his arms over his chest in a sulk and glared at the back of the other man’s head. He was more than sure he’d interrupted on purpose. What was Mycroft’s deal?

[possiblyimbiassed]

Trying to explain the inexplicable

Sherlock wouldn't very likely admit that something is inexplicable, would he? His usual MO is to investigate and investigate further, until he has it all cleared, so admitting that something is 'inexplicable' would be much more like John than Sherlock any day of the week. This thought struck me after trying to make sense of John's blog post "The Inexplicable Matchbox", which he published during the hiatus before Sherlock's return in TEH.

There's a number of things with this post that make me curious.

First of all is the fact that the whole case is so top secret that John apparently isn't allowed to write anything about the solution to the case, just that "we solved it” and found out “who’d killed who and how and why". 

If Sherlock had been able to comment at this point, I think he would probably have questioned why John decided to write it down in the first place, just like he did before, when John hinted something about Irene Adler (X). According to John, that “adds context. Gives people an idea about the real you”. Which Sherlock also questions. And still, in TSoT, he does mention this ‘frustrating’ case in his best man speech at John's wedding...

...which means that Sherlock - contrary to his usual opinion of this behaviour - did choose to share a glimpse of this case with the wedding guests in spite of it being, apparently, either ‘inexplicable’ or a top secret case of international importance (”We’re talking about Every Official Secrets Act”, according to John’s blog post). So here we have a clear teaser, in my opinion; a whole case that is merely hinted at, but it still appears in both the show and in John’s blog. But in neither of them are we actually told the solution.

So, parting from the conviction that nothing is inexplicable to Sherlock (which is confirmed by John’s blog telling us they did actually solve it), let's dissect this blog post, pice for piece! :) There's a number of objects and phenomena mentioned in this post that pop up frequently in the show, so let’s see what they might mean:

1. Matchboxes. In the picture from TSoT above, Sherlock looks like he’s being enlightened by the ‘inexplicable’ thing that’s in the matchbox. Might there be anything significant about matchboxes - like some sort of clue? There aren't actually many of them, except for the ones in the ‘inexplicable’ case, but they are at least mentioned in ASiB:

But since matchboxes are not so often used by smokers these days, we might as well also include lighters, right? Strange, by the way, that Sherlock would even ask for a matchbox before he asks for a lighter...

Either will do. So, on what occasions do we see Sherlock using a match or a lighter? Well, I’ve tried to collect the data, but since Sherlock apparently had quit smoking at the beginning of the show, we only ever see other characters using them before TSoT, which seems logical; he doesn’t need a lighter, since he has John Watson for a conductor of light. In ASiP there’s Jeff Hope’s pistol lighter. And later in ASiB, after Buckingham Palace, we see Sherlock smoke, but it’s Mycroft who lights his only cigarette. In THoB Henry Knight uses a lighter on his own cigarette, but Sherlock’s cigs are hidden behind the skull on the mantelpiece - ‘hidden’ on his own request apparently.

And in TEH Lestrade is holding a lighter to his cigarette the moment Sherlock returns from the dead, telling Lestrade that smoking will kill him. And that’s about it. And the lighters are all very ‘explicable’, as far as I can see. In HLV Sherlock is smoking again, though, in spite of being fresh home from hospital (no lighter in sight, though). 

But then in TAB’s Victorian scenes and in TFP, there are indeed some matchboxes that seem to require explanations:

At 221B, when Lestrade comes to visit, Holmes lights his pipe with a match, 

which transforms into Emilia Ricoletti’s pistol barrel: 

Is this significant in any way? Might be, but I don’t see it just yet. Need more data.

Later, in the Carmichael house, Holmes strikes a match to light a lantern, and tells Watson to stay in the hall. And then comes an interesting scene (my bolding - thanks for the quotes, Ariane De Vere). 

Watson is supposedly speaking to the ghost of Emilia Ricoletti: 

WATSON: You’re human, I know that. You must be. (It’s dark in the corridor. He puts his revolver onto a table beside him, on which is a candle and a box of matches. He picks up the latter.) WATSON: Little use, us standing here in the dark. (He strikes a match and picks up the candle to light it.) WATSON: After all, this is the nineteenth century.

That last remark is a curious one, isn’t it? As if they should be ‘enlightened’, since it’s the 19th century. But this is all happening inside 21st century Sherlock’s head, so why does he imagine Watson referring to Victorian times as ‘modern’ here? And Watson, who is usually addicted to danger, is now vacillating between being terrified by the supposed ghost and speaking to it as if repeating his recent conversation with Holmes about human ‘impulses’. Adding to the importance of this scene, it was also one of the selected scenes for the TAB trailer, IIRC.

Enlightenment seems to be a sort of theme, because in TFP John says it outright (to Mycroft):

And then in TFP there’s a scene, voice-over by Mycroft, where little Euros is drawing family pictures, but on every one of them her brother Sherlock is dying a horrible death of some sort. (For some reason he also has red hair and is wearing the same yellow-and-blue-striped jumper). 

Then she grabs a matchbox, 

lights a match, 

and then apparently sets the whole mansion of Musgrave Hall on fire. (We don’t actually see her doing this, though).

Now, that’s kind of an ‘inexplicable’ matchbox, isn’t it? Why did Euros do this? This reeks of Childhood Trauma to me. Since I actually doubt that Euros even exists (I think TFP is all happening in Sherlock’s mind, and Euros might represent a part of Sherlock himself) I do wonder what actually happened to Sherlock...

2. Isaac Persano. According to Sherlock in TSoT, he was a “French decathlete found completely out of his mind, surrounded by 1812 matchboxes, all empty except this one”. Apparently John (see blogpost above) couldn’t believe his eyes when Sherlock showed him the content of the matchbox. Persano had been missing for a year and a half, after the murder of his trainer. He was found in a hotel room in Brighton and couldn't speak. John diagnosed it as PTSD, but apparently Sherlock proved him wrong. The trainer had also been found in a hotel room, beaten to death with a heavy object. 

Isn’t it a strange coincidence that first we have this missing person, Isaac Persano on the blog. And then we get Isaac Whitney in HLV, who is also ‘missing’ but later found in a drug den, together with Sherlock. Not to mention that his family name, Persano, sounds almost like Persona. As if someone would be impersonating someone else, right? Maybe someone who likes to use disguises?  

3. Clowns. It’s mentioned twice in the blogpost that Sherlock had to dress up as a clown, so I assume it’s important. We never see Sherlock as a clown, though, but there’s two occasions in the show where someone else is dressed up as a clown. The first is the Waters gang in TSoT:

And the second is in TFP, in Mycroft’s house, where Sherlock apparently has hired a clown to scare his brother into telling him about Euros (which in itself seems extremely weird and illogical to me):

So none of these clowns are actually ‘real’ ones, who make people laugh, but rather acting to frighten people or using the outfit for disguise while comitting a crime. Hmm... Childhood trauma?

4. Helicopters. According to John, Mrs Hudson was thrown out of one (we have no idea how or why). Apart from this blogpost case (the helicopter sequence is not shown in Sherlock’s Best Man speech), there’s only one other occasion described by John: when he was “whisked away in a helicopter and taken to Buckingham Palace”. We also see this scene in the TV show. But there are plenty of other helicopters mentioned and/or shown in the TV show: Already in ASiP, Sherlock is talking of getting a police helicopter to track down the murderer. In TEH, Sherlock is chased by a helicopter in Serbia (we only ever hear the sound of it and see the grass move from its wind, though). Also in TEH, when Sherlock is telling John how he survived The Fall, he considered a helicopter rescue. In TSoT, Greg summons a police helicopter as backup when he thinks Sherlock is in danger at 221B. In HLV Sherlock and John are transported to Appledore in a helicopter. Then Mycroft also arrives in a helicopter (which looks suspiciously similar to Magnussen’s). The same helicopter is then shown in the manipulated footage at the top secret hearing in T6T. Then there’s the police helicopter in TLD, chasing Mrs Hudson’s red sports car. 

Also in TLD, there’s a surveillance helicopter following Sherlock and Faith through the streets of London by night. And - last but not least - there are several helicopters heading for Sherrinford island in TFP. First there’s Jim’s ‘I want to break free’ helicopter. Then the one that transports Euros back to prison. And finally there’s the one that takes Sherlock out to Sherrinford to visit his sister, at least twice. If I haven’t miscalculated, that’s 14 helicopters in total. Quite a lot, isn’t it? Even more than one per episode...

5. Mrs Hudson being where she wouldn't likely bee. The idea of Mrs H being pushed out of a helicopter is very horrible indeed, but doesn’t actually make much sense to me. Is John really a reliable narrator here? Why would an old lady be pushed out of a helicopter? To harm Sherlock? Was it the CIA-guy’s revenge? Or did it have something to do with her past in the drug-dealing business? And if she was pushed out, how did she survive? Was the helicopter parked on the ground? Too many questions here (and too many helicopters as well, I’d say). But then again, we have this remarkable scene in TLD, where Hudders is speeding a red Aston Martin with Sherlock in the boot, being chased by the police. 

So apparently we can now expect just about anything from her, on any location...

Another strange thing about Hudder’s car is the registration plate; why on earth would it have the scientific genus name of the Honey bee (Apis mellifera) on it? Hmm...

6. John doing something he never thought he'd ever do. Well, here I’m totally lost. Unless... Well, from HLV and onwards, I think John has actually been doing lots of things I never thought I’d ever see John Watson do. Like beating up a junkie for no specific reason. Or having a go at Sherlock while he might be dying from a re-opened gunshot in the chest. Or forgiving his wife while knowing that she almost murdered Sherlock. Or blaming Sherlock for her death, without even having seen what happened. Or - worst of all - assaulting Sherlock, kicking him on the ground, when he’s very obviously high on drugs. So yes - that prediction does make sense, thinking about it.

Comment section. Apart from the actual content of John’s blogpost, there’s also the comment section:

Sauron!? What’s this - an in-joke as a nod to the actor who plays The Hobbit? :) In a show that is also frequented by ‘dragon-slayers’... ;) Jokes aside, these two commenters - ‘Sauron1976′ and ‘Scarlet Glove’ - have been hating on John’s blog about Sherlock more or less since he ‘died’. ‘Scarlet Glove’, however, who is claiming that The Inexplicable Matchbox events never happened, makes me think that this name might be a clue - some sort of ‘red herring’, maybe telling us that HLV-S4 actually didn’t happen in the ‘real’ world?

So, in summary, I think there’s a lot of foreshadowing for the rest of the show in this blogpost about the Inexplicable Matchbox. At first sight, S4 was rather ‘inexplicable’ to me. But I feel sure that before the show is over (which it isn’t yet), most of the weirdness actually will be explained.

Tagging some people who might be interested: @sarahthecoat @raggedyblue @ebaeschnbliah @gosherlocked @tjlcisthenewsexy @monikakrasnorada @sagestreet @fellshish @tendergingergirl @sherlockshadow

[all-fandoms-fiction]

The Heartless (Sherlock x reader)

Reader has a past with Sherlock. Also with Mycroft but in different terms. Reader also has a sister in this one. Sorry but I just needed to add a character in this to make this, well, fitting for the plot.

A woman in a tight dress, high black heels echoing against the cold stone floor approaches a big wooden door. The door blocks her attempt on going further, but that is exactly how the meeting is supposed to go. She is supposed to wait there to be invited in. She might be dominating and strike fear in others who know her, but she is not impolite. And never had been.

A man in a uniform appears and takes his place before the woman, he has his hands in front of his lower half and his expression is blank. He tries to look polite and even smile but knows well enough not to let his lips curve into a grin. He has been reminded of that several times.

The man’s or rather the boy’s uniform isn’t a soldier’s or a guard’s. It doesn’t take a genius to pin point this boy is only a servant or an errand boy. He hasn’t much of an importance in such a place where there are governments documents and agents around. He seems as he’s in a wrong place. Out of this world.

The woman lifts her gaze to meet the boy’s, the blue eyes locking on the beautiful (e/c) ones. She puckers her lips and shifts her weight on her left leg. She is now waiting for the boy to announce the status of the meeting.

She had received a text message from an old friend if that is what you want to call it. The message as always as straight forward as ever, informing her a car was waiting right out side her house for her to hop in and come for a visit. She had to admit to herself she handout expected to hear from her old friend and enemy ever again or at least not so soon. The terms between the two had heat up last time they were in the same room and after that there was no question of the two ending in a same room again.

”Mr. Homes will see you now, Miss. (L/n).” He said surprisingly without stuttering which made the woman smile almost proud of the boy. The boy didn’t even hide behind his rather long hair, couple of brown strands hanging in front of his right eye.

She nodded and let the boy lead the way, even if she knew perfectly fine where to go, but to give the boy something to do other than to just stand in the hall and observe from the side all the action.

The big doors were opened and the two walked in to another hall. There were several pictures hang on the wall, paintings. Portraits. Under few of theme there were tables, on them bouquets of flowers. None of them were roses. Good. That would be a cliche.

When the woman and the boy reached the end of the hall the boy opened yet another door, but with a bow he stayed there and didn’t follow the woman inside. The door was closed right after the woman stepped in the dim room. It was familiar to her. She had visited this specific office couple of times and every time as unofficially as ever. She did often wonder why the man insisted to meet her here from all the places. Why wasn’t he ashamed to be seen in even the same building with her?

”Do sit, Miss (L/n).” A man behind the desk said, his hand bent forward, pointing the chair on the other side of his table. The woman sat, with a nod and a light smile. She took an official position, crossing her legs and leaning back a bit. The distance between the man and the woman was comforting for some reason. She knew the man wouldn’t want her any closer than needed and it didn’t bother her.

”Nice to see you Mycroft.” She smiled, but it was clear she was being playful not serious. She didn’t mean to be nice to the man, she simply wanted to annoy him in any way possible.

”Well, I can’t say the same about you.” Mycroft said and took a seat behind the big desk of his, leaning forward and linking his fingers and resting his hands on the table which was filled with piles of papers and files. He had been busy with paper work apparently, but had found time on his schedule for the woman before him. So sweet of him.

”Don’t be like that.” You taunted him. ”I know you missed me.”

Mycroft scoffed, pulling his hands to his lap and leaned back making as much distance between the two of you as he possibly could. His face kept the amused yet irritated stare on you, but that was his regular expression. You had almost never seen him wearing any other look on his face. It could have something to do with him hating your guts. Go figure, you told yourself. And to mention what his facial expression was wearing, he also had his usual outfit. Straight grey trousers and a suit along with a red cravat.

”This is not about missing, (Y/n).” Mycroft informed with his usual irked smile. You studied him. He had lost weight again from what you saw him last time. It had been six months exactly. He did look better now than back then. He had been carrying a huge weight on his shoulders, not actual weight but emotional. You of course didn’t say it out loud as Mycroft was known of not having emotions or feelings. That of course was before your sister had come along.

You answered the man with a smile, then letting your expression go blank.

”How are you, (Y/n)?” Mycroft forced the words out. He was trying to be nice. You knew well enough this wasn’t just for nothing, though you didn’t need him to be nice to let you know he needed something. The last time had ended nice enough to keep you two away from each other and even for good, but something had changed. And knowing him he would tell you what he was after. Or not. But you still decided to play along.

”I’m good.” You lifted your head higher up proudly yet doubtingly. Your lips were pursed, your lipstick barely showing.

”As good as you can get, I presume.” Mycroft added snidely. ”I have heard you have been busy with your ’investments’ am I correct?”

You tilted your head and couldn’t help but fake pout at him. ”Am I here to be scolded for my business?” Mycroft scowled, but it didn’t bother you. Not even a bit which probably irritated him even more.

”I was trying to be polite, you were begging for our conversation to side track.” He sounded like he was trying to parent you. It actually humored you.  

”You were the one to ask me how I was doing.” You reminded and leaned back on your chair, looking away. You spotted yet another flower bouquet on a side table under a lamp. You smirked. Usually Mycroft’s office was empty of all living, if you leave Mycroft out which always was questionable was he a human or a robot. This was a big improvement. You knew those flowers.

Mycroft saw your smile and cleared his throat. You did as he wished, not mentioning the flowers and whom they were from and just turned your attention to him.

”I asked you to come here for a reason, Miss (Y/n).” Mycroft became serious now, his eyebrows shadowing his eyes and chin closer to his neck. His face  had lowered, his eyes on the floor and then you knew this was something serious. Not something serious to Mycroft and humorous to you, but really serious. ”I have a request to make for you.” Mycroft explained while he stood back up, pacing around the chair not making eye contact.

”Yes?” Was all you were able to get out of you. You were starting to catch up on Mycroft’s mood change. You kept your eyes on the wondering man, not letting even the tiniest act go unnoticed.

”I need you to leave the country.” He turned to face you, his arms behind his back.

”Excuse me?” Was all you said, you were stunned by his suggestion or more of a command. He had tried to bribe you to leave before, but this was different. He didn’t try to be as polite as Mycroft Holmes was capable of and this time it wasn’t wishful thinking. He was practically ordering you.

”Things are going to happen.” Mycroft admitted. ”Things that don’t need any unnecessary obstacles on it’s way.”

”You’re telling me I’m on your way?” You clarify with arched eyebrows. You couldn’t help but laugh at that. Mycroft wouldn’t ever say something like this so this had to be interesting. This would keep you awake for weeks.

”Yes, I do not enjoy of telling you about this, but it is true. I need you to leave the country tonight. You can fly on my plane and I will make sure you will have everything you will need in America.” He was serious. It actually shocked you, no, it took you off guard how sure he was you would play by his rules.

”What is this about, Mycroft?” You needed an honest answer. He wouldn’t go this far to get you leave the country just for nothing. There had to be a reason. And if you were to leave the country you needed to know. It was your liberty.

Mycroft sway where he stood, then freezing on place. He looked down on you. His hand was placed on the edge of the table getting support from the wooden furniture. ”I won’t be needing you here to distract him.”

Your heart skipped a beat. With a doubting smile you shook your head at him. ”I don’t understand what you mean.”

”Oh, I think you do.” Mycroft said. He lowered his face, under his brows his eyes seemed like a wild cat’s that was studying it’s prey before attacking. A humored cat’s. Before you had the chance to say anything to him Mycroft continued ”He will be back tonight, at the exact time my plane will set off with you to US.” He started pacing around again and your eyes followed.

He couldn’t be talking about, Sherlock? Could he?

”Why is it so important for me to disappear?” Keeping the cold tone you tried avoiding to get too deep into this. But Mycroft, just like before, wasn’t going to keep anything inside of him.

”You will be a distraction to him. Last time I checked you two had feelings for each other.” He smugly reminisced. You took a deep breath. You could feel your anger building up. ”But don’t worry, I will never tell him where you went. He will never hear of you again.” Mycroft smiled to you. It actually hurt you how badly he wanted you out of the picture. He had just announced you his brother wasn’t really dead, and now he was banishing you from England.

”It was nothing like that.” You started to shake, but the movement was so little no one noticed. ”You know what happened and it has nothing to do with emotions.”

Mycroft let out a chuckle. He took a step closer to you, his hand had found his umbrella that he was now swinging back and forth. The tip of the object rubbed the carpet Mycroft stood on, back and forth, back and forth until it swing up and land on Mycroft’s shoulder. ”Do you really take me as an idiot, (Y/n)?” Mycroft hummed questioningly.

”I don’t, but this is something you know nothing off of.”

”You don’t need to lie to me, (Y/n), I know well enough-”

”What I was feeling?” You snapped. ”I doubt that. I mean who has swore he doesn’t feel these kinds of emotions? Last time I checked it was you, Mycroft.” You pointed your finger at him when mentioning his name.

”You were destroyed by him!” Mycroft yelled.

”Well, it makes two of us!” You yelled back, getting up from your seat. ”And I’m not talking about him.” You knew this hurt him. This was a slap on his face. Even if Mycroft Holmes declared he didn’t have a heart the closest of heart was destroyed in him, and that was no one else than your sister.

The silence went on for a while until you stopped it. You fixed your dress, pulled your hair back and straightened your back while stating ”I take your offer.” You could see Mycroft was surprised by that. He also fixed his composure and cleared his throat. ”Really?” and to that you nodded. ”Yes. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

You walked to the door but turned to look at Mycroft for the last time. ”Did you know about him all along?” You needed to know. Even if you weren’t probably ever ready to see him again you needed this information.

”Yes, I did.” Mycroft admitted but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. He had started to read the files on his table, starting to finally calm down since you were leaving.

You nodded, more to yourself since Mycroft wasn’t looking at you, but when you went and opened the door Mycroft called for you for the last time. You turned to look at him for the last time and saw him wearing a mask. An expressionless mask and he gave you his last term on your leaving. ”Please take you sister with you.” And he let his face return to the papers. With that you left the office.

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Little Holmes (Sherlock X Wife!Reader)

Characters: Sherlock X Wife!Reader, John Watson X Sister!Reader

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: Kidnapping, pregnancy

Request: Wastons little sister is married to sherlock she has just found out she is pregnant, but gets kidnapped by moriaty while she is figuring out how to tell sherlock. Sherlock ends up rescuing her. Ends with fluffiness.

It had been 2 hours since you had woken up, finding yourself in a deserted art gallery, tied and pinned to a pillar. The first minute or two after waking had been filled with confusion, wondering how the hell you ended up here- the last thing you had remembered was leaving the flat to go  pick some stuff up. After a while you found yourself accompanied by a familiar face- Moriarty. He had assured you that you wouldn’t be here long, and that you’d more than likely leave the Gallery without a scratch.

The first hour had been full of desperate but failed attempts to get out of your restraints, full of panic, looking for any sign of anything that look like it could detonate around you, but to no luck. The lights had been turned off, leaving you in darkness. You were determined to get out of here as soon as possible, if not for your sake, but for your baby’s. 

It was strange. The first time your mind reminded you of the little life in you struggled, you actually stopped for a moment. You hadn’t had a moment to actually process the information. You had been feeling unwell for days prior, and just to rule it out, had taken a pregnancy test that morning after your husband and your brother had already ran off for a case- though to your surprise, it came back positive. The shock and denial of it had made you tell yourself that it was probably a false positive- the test had been in its box for months, just something you had on hand to rule it out, and sometimes Sherlock used it to run tests, one time using one to positively identify a killer. You told yourself it was out of date, or you did it wrong or something. However, as the afternoon rolled around, John had called you to check up on you, and during the call Sherlock had snatched the phone to talk to you. You were yet to not find it amusing how he’d insult people with a monotone voice one moment, and then turn to you and speak to you softly and kindly. He’d always done it from the moment he met you, surprisingly. You guess that was the first sign that he had loved you from first sight. However, hearing his voice reminding you to eat, asking if you wanted him to pick up fish and chips on his way home later, and telling you to look after yourself since you’d not been feeling well recently, snapped you out of your shock enough to want to go out and grab more tests to be sure. It was during that trip that you’d been taken. 

You still weren’t 100% sure that you were actually pregnant, but when looking at the facts- the sickness, the soreness, the fatigue, the changes in your taste and smell and cravings, combined with the test you’d already taken… it seemed more than likely. It was because of this that you’d spent the last hour instead of panicking and working yourself up, focussing on the future after you got out. How were you going to tell Sherlock? How were you going to tell your brother? And Mycroft, he’d be an uncle to your baby along with John as well. You’ll probably need to look into a bigger flat or something, the two bedroom flat not being ideal since that would mean 4 people under 1 roof after the birth. But what if it was twins? Triplets? Oh what about names? Sherlock would probably try and name the baby something strange, and even if he didn’t get his way, he’d nickname the baby and refer to them as that. What kind of mother will you be? What kind of father will Sherlock be? You imagine he’d be rather loving, if a bit strange, doing things the non traditional way. There will probably be a time where your child gets picked up from school in a police car, or by government officials, Sherlock will probably show his experiments to his child to get them interested in science and crime solving… but he’d be there whenever they need him, keeping them safe from harm, holding them close whenever he got the opportunity. 

“Y/N!” Sherlock’s echoed call throughout the building snapped you out your thoughts, a smile immediately forming on your lips. 

“Sherlock!” You called back, hearing his footsteps against the smooth stone flooring drawing closer, and with it you heard he wasn’t alone, and you had no doubt that it was John. You were proven right as Sherlock rounded the corner, turning the lights on, John not far behind, both of them rushing to your aid, untying you and helping you up. 

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” John fussed first as you hugged your husband tightly, before turning to him. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine. He got me when I popped out for something.” You explained to them. 

“Let’s get you home, come on.” Sherlock said, wrapping his arm around you, walking you out quickly as police piled in to examine the area for any evidence. Lestrade looked like he was about to say something about Sherlock and John about to technically remove evidence, before Sherlock interrupted with “Not now” and walked you right past him. 

As soon as you were home, John got on getting you a hot drink to soothe your nerves as Sherlock got you bundled up on the recliner with a blanket. “How are you feeling?” Sherlock asked you as he hovered over you. You smiled up at him tiredly.

“In need of a nap.” You chuckled quietly. John came back, handing you the mug, which you let warm your hands as you waited for it to cool down enough to be drinkable. “What’s going to happen? Why did he take me?” You asked. 

“Not sure yet. It was a surprise.” John told you sitting down on the settee. “What was it you needed to get? I’ll go get it for you if the shops are still open.” He offered. You thought for a moment, hesitating, your actions being noticed by both men, who were immediately suspicious. “Y/N?” 

“Um… actually, I don’t think I need it anymore.” You brushed off, looking down at your drink. Sherlock however, wasn’t happy with this answer, squating down beside you, and you looked at him, as he looked right into your eyes. You could see he was deducing you, and you wondered if he’d figure it out. What if he already had? He creased his eyebrows, clearly in thought as he tried to think of what you could possibly need to run out and get so suddenly, before he jumped up, heading to the bathroom. Ah, he’d figured it out. 

“Y/N?” John asked, out of the loop, though before you could give him an answer, the sound of Sherlock rummaging was heard, before he came rushing back in, eyes a little wider. You stared back at him, grinning to him as the news settled in, a toothy grin being returned to you. “What’s happening?” John asked. 

“You’re pregnant?” Sherlock asked for clarification. John nearly jumped out of his seat turning to you.

“I was going to go get more tests but while I was tied up I realised it lined up with my feeling under the weather… I’m almost certain.” You confirmed finally. Sherlock couldn’t seem to contain his excitement as he took large steps towards you, practically climbing onto you to hug you tightly as John cheered.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in! 

*Not my gif

TAGS:  @courtneychicken​  @graysonmalfoy​ @bellero​ @originalpottervengerlock​ @supernatural-pan​ @esoltis280​ @lena-stan-xavier​ @lady-of-lies​ @sebstanismylife​ @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980​ @cdwmtjb8​ @caswinchester2000​ @determinedpines​ @huntheimpossible @holy-tea-cup-blog​  @waywardemo​ @sassy-specter​ @keenmarvellover

[myriadimagines]

I Don’t Like People. Like, At All.

Sherlock One Shot

Characters: [GENDER NEUTRAL] Reader x Mycroft Holmes

Warnings: Mentions of war, violence and death

Request: “Sherlock: One-shot : (Mycroft) where the reader is an anti-social criminal who plans to steal a bomb to start a war.” - Anon

Word Count: 765

A/N: Okay but the title is so me. But I’m not going to steal a bomb guys don’t worry. I don’t really know how to steal a bomb but I hope what I wrote makes sense.

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', myHandler); function myHandler() { var v = document.body.innerHTML; var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; v = v.replace(/\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, input); document.body.innerHTML = v; } // ]]>

America and Britain. Allies for throughout the most of history. Well, apart from the whole American Revolution thing. But they were allies during both world wars, so one would think their relations were pretty good.

You were determined to change that.

Sitting at your laptop, you hacked into the American government files with ease. Cracking your knuckles, your eyes scanned the weapons inventory.

“Which bomb should I take today…” you wondered aloud. “I’ll go for the big ones.”

You scanned over the different missiles the US had stored. Obviously, there were some missiles the Americans hid that the world didn’t even know about, yet here there were in front of you, like a shopping list.

“It’ll have to be a intercontinental ballistic missile.” you mumbled to yourself, mentally calculating the distance between American and the UK. “This one looks good.”

Downloading the file, you sat back in your chair and looked out the window. You loved doing crimes by yourself. It was so much easier than having to work in a team. You hated interacting with other criminals, which you avoided as much as possible. Your anti-social personality was partially what was fuelling your drive today.

You wanted to start a war between the UK and USA. You knew that the UK had enough missiles to shoot down an ICMB if one was launched at them, and thus the conflict would begin.

Your computer beeped, signalling the download was complete. Deleting it from the American website, you decided to leave a little message.

Smirking as you finished your message and hit enter, you began working on the file. Now that the Americans no longer had access to hit, you could launch the bomb without any interference. One simple hit of your computer key, and war would be at your fingertips.

“I’ll save this for when the time seems right.” you shut the laptop and waltzed into the kitchen to make breakfast.

—

“The Americans have just called us,” a government official hurried into Mycroft’s office. “Someone just stole the files to an ICBM, and they can’t get it back. They’re warning us, because they don’t know what the hacker is going to do with the missile.”

Mycroft looked up from his tea, alarmed.

“The hacker left a message in place of the bomb files. Pretty cynical. “Goodbye, you miserable humans. Have fun destroying yourselves.’”

Mycroft paused.

“What did the message say?” he asked.

“‘Goodbye, you miserable humans. Have fun destroying yourselves.’” the official repeated, and looked up. “Why, do you have an idea?”

Mycroft had already grabbed his coat and was headed to his car.

“No, not at all. I just remembered there’s someone I need to meet.”

—

“Oh, come on.” you groaned as a familiar sleek black car pulled up. You pulled the curtain shut as you saw a tall figure step out of the car and make his way to your door.

“Go away, Mycroft!” you yelled, walking down the stairs. You were familiar with the government official, who always managed to keep you at bay.

“Let me in, y/n.” Mycroft yelled back, his words slightly muffled by the door. Exasperated, you yanked the door open, and Mycroft looked at you with an amused expression.

“Stealing a bomb, y/n? I thought you would have a more creative idea.” he moved past you into the house. “And what a pessimistic message you left behind. Only you would say something like that.”

“Invite yourself in, why don’t you?” you mumbled to yourself, slamming the door behind you. “I was bored. I wanted to start a war. And besides, what other ways of starting wars can you think of with just one person? I hate going to others for help.”

“How about not starting a war at all?” Mycroft responded, inspecting a vase on the table.

“That’s boring.” you rolled your eyes. “I don’t like people. Like, at all. So what better way to get rid of them than get them to fight each other?”

“You know, you remind me a lot of someone.” Mycroft looked up at you, unable to ignore the idea that was growing in his head. “There’s someone I think you should meet. He’s very much like you: doesn’t like people, finds almost everything boring. I think you two would get along, and perhaps it’ll help you use your criminal mastermind for some good.” Mycroft headed out, gesturing you to follow. Bewildered, you froze in your spot.

“Where are we going?” you called after him. Mycroft didn’t even bother to turn around as he opened the door.

“221B Baker street.”

[waitedforgarridebs]

What if the IDEA of Moriarty was just the creation of Mycroft, to ensure that his little brother would have a reason to stay alive? Mycroft is not UNDER Moriarty's thumb - Moriarty IS Mycroft' thumb! #TheEngineersThumb

THANK YOU FOR SENDING ME AN ASK WITH YOUR TAGS ON THAT POST (x) I WANTED TO REBLOG THAT !!!! You genius, Mycroft is Moriarty’s thumb, this made my day!

Ask @johnnlocked, I was yelling, and it was 4am!

And yes, I completely agree with you, Mycroft created the idea of Moriarty - but I don’t think his motive was to give Sherlock a reason to stay alive / to stay off the drugs, and since I never came around to write that post, I’ll do a short version now. 

(I say “short”. It’s not short. Imagine what the long version would have looked like though, lmao)

I do believe that the government / Mycroft created the project “Moriarty”, nameless or with another codename (”Amo” / “Love”?). “Moriarty” means “navigator” or “sea-worthy”, so it could be something water-y.

Those are, after all, very “deep waters” for Sherlock… 

My theory is that Sherlock discovered the very fringes of the whole Moriarty machination in TBB #it’s always TBB. And this was completely not what Mycroft wanted, Mycroft never wanted Sherlock to know about this, at all.

Because, those people are really really dangerous, and Mycroft is far from being able to control them all - at least not as in, “don’t harm my little brother”, that would completely contradict the actual purpose of Moriarty; a tool to ensure “the greater good”. 

So, Mycroft wanted to focus the damage Sherlock could do to something more controllable, more limited, and that is not an entire organisation, but a single person. This is why Mycroft invented “Jim” Moriarty, and designed him in a way that he would be the perfect match for Sherlock, that he would be something Sherlock could obsess about, far away from all the actual business of Moriarty.

So far, so good. But if that plan would have worked, the whole plot of the show would have been quite boring though. 

I feel like Jim very much was following his own agenda, maybe he even wanted to destroy Moriarty from within, “commit suicide”, his apparent “death wish”, because thanks to Mycroft he now was Moriarty, he was the only person who would be able to stop this project. If Jim is anything like the character he plays, he loves chaos, he loves the randomness of things, and Moriarty is the exact opposite of this. Moriarty tries to order the chaos, to control it. Very much a Mycroft-esque thing to do. 

(I’m aware of the fact that all of this probably doesn’t make very much sense when you haven’t read at least this part of my meta series (x), but “Moriarty”, in my opinion, is an Orwellian project run by the goverment.)

After TST, and also looking back at the scene at the end of THoB, I think that Sir Edwin is very much in on this, he is probably Porlock. Lady Smallwood is quite clueless, and honestly, I can’t wait to see her kick everyone’s asses for this, but I’m getting off-topic…

Back to Jim. 

The introduction of the character “Jim Moriarty”, in combination with Irene, is the downfall of the Moriarty project. Irene gives Jim the information he needs to turn the tables.

“Bond Air” is Mycroft’s “Skyfall”.

Therefore, even if Mycroft tried to keep Sherlock save and the Moriarty project alive at the same time, there was no way this could ever have worked out. And it was the Moriarty project that had to die, because after the failed Bond Air project, it had already been kind of dead. 

It would’t take long for the terrorists to figure out that someone had played this game with them. That the British government had been trying to fool them in this way. Oh my, that would have had serious consequences. 

That is why Moriarty had to die. But one also had to ensure that no one would be able to link all those events to who actually had committed them, the British government, because this was exactly the reason why they had to kill Moriarty in the first place, to not have anything that would lead back to them. 

Nobody knew up to this point that Moriarty was a thing though. Except some criminals, and they would keep their mouth very much shut about this.

Cue: TRF.

Jim was actively advertising in this episode. And this not because he needed clients, or the money, that was never what he was doing all of this for. 

They. Told. Us. All. Of. This. 

It was important that the world got to know Jim Moriarty. The master criminal. The person who had committed so many crimes, who was apparently so powerful - and in all of that, Sherlock Holmes was helping.

Up to this point, Sherlock was the only person to ever have seen Jim Moriarty’s face - because, Moriarty itself has no face! - and now Sherlock was telling the world, hey, this is him, James Moriarty, the Napoleon of crime. I am the great Sherlock Holmes, you better believe me, this man is my worst nightmare, he tried to blow me up.

And, just before that, Jim had broken into the three most secure places of the country. Sherlock was only confirming to the public what the press had already been telling them, like, trying to steal the Crown Juwels, ermahgerddddd, arrest this man!

So, not only had Jim been able to show off his skillz, but also had he been able to link the name “Moriarty” permanently to his face.

He does all that, and then commits suicide. Welp. Not very clever? 

Except this was what all of this had been for. 

Now, Moriarty, the potential traitor, was dead. No need to take revenge on a dead person. And the link to the British government was gone, too. Sherlock Holmes was on vacation, so they had a lot of time of peace and quiet to get the project running again.

Oh yes. Moriarty is dead, long lives Moriarty. 

Or (Lord) Moran. 

The government didn’t stop doing what they were doing, this whole business was much too promising for that. They just had to carry their coups out in a different way - they have a lot of talented people working there, after all.

And if that meant that Sherlock Holmes had to come back from the dead only to actuate the off-switch on a bomb in order to prevent a terrorist attack that no one ever actually wanted to carry out, that was just meant to frighten people into agreeing with the introduction of an anti-terrorism bill, well. (x)

Which makes me think… 

SHERLOCK: […] Tomorrow the US president will be at the embassy as part of an official state visit. As the president greets members of staff, Greta Bengtsdotter, disguised as a twenty-two stone cleaner, will inject the president in the back of the neck with a dangerous new drug hidden inside a secret compartment inside her padded armpit. This drug will then render the president entirely susceptible to the will of their new master, none other than James Moriarty. KINGSLEY: What?!SHERLOCK (quick fire): Moriarty will then use the president as a pawn to destabilise the United Nations General Assembly which is due to vote on a nuclear non-proliferation treaty, tipping the balance in favour of a first strike policy against Russia. This chain of events will then prove unstoppable, thus precipitating … (he finally slows down and says the next words slowly and precisely) World War Three. (x)

I guess we should watch out for hints at that treaty in the upcoming episodes…?

ANYWAY.

Mycroft introduced Jim into Sherlock’s life. Mycroft planted the idea that Moriarty is a person in Sherlock’s head, the only person who could ever be an equal or worthy opponent for Sherlock. 

And Sherlock believes it.

Sherlock believes that Jim, even if he hadn’t been able to fake his death, would have been able to set up a plan that would take effect after his death, only to continue their little game. 

(^balance of probability, Sherlock, why do you even think that. I am so disappointed, honestly. YOU were able to fake your death, and you really think Jim wouldn’t have been able to do the same, and this just because of your gay fever dream, INSTEAD you really believe he would have been able to set up something like- oh my god make it stop)

And I really think that only in TST, Mycroft is beginning to realise what he really has done there. His brother is obsessed with Moriarty, despite the fact that he isn’t even alive anymore. 

Yes, the plan to distract Sherlock is kind of working, he doesn’t see what is actually going on, that Mycroft is the source of all of this, but at what cost? Is Sherlock gonna get insane because Moriarty will continue to not get in touch, and this additionally to all the guilt that must be nagging at him now because of that whole Mary-business? 

I can really see why he’s gonna be back on drugs tonight… no case and no John, oh my.

[fairytales-and-folklore]

Author: whovianmuse

Title: Lords, Gods, And Madmen

Fandom: BBC Sherlock x Doctor Who x Marvel x Sleepy Hollow x Supernatural x Torchwood

Characters: Abbie Mills x Amelia Pond x Bobby Singer x Captain Jack Harkness x Castiel x Crowley x Dean Winchester x The Eleventh Doctor x Gabriel x Greg Lestrade x Gwen Cooper x Ianto Jones x Ichabod Crane x James Moriarty x John Watson x Loki Laufeyson x The Master x Mycroft Holmes x Owen Harper x Sam Winchester x Sherlock Holmes x Toshiko Sato

Summary: A Time Lord, a Consulting Criminal, a Government Official, and the God Of Mischief walk into a mansion...