#rosamund mary morstan

[tjlc-hellven]

Johnny! There is no baby!

[wasted-women]

PRELIMINARY ROUND, MATCH 7!

Cause of death: Took the bullet for Sherlock.

Propaganda:

They didn't need to do anything with Mary. It wasn't like she was a beloved part of the Sherlock Holmes mythology. But they went out of their way to add her. Then they went out of their way to write a very complicated backstory for her to have to make her badass. And then they killed her off??? WHAT EVEN WAS THE POINT.

[shadyscroller2]

all our years apart (lead us to the one today)

ao3

Posted January 2, 2022 

#First Kiss, #Christmas Fluff, #New Years, #New Year's Eve, #Fluff and Angst, #Angst with a Happy Ending, #Pining Sherlock Holmes, #Pining John Watson, #Jealous Sherlock, #Snow, #Awesome Molly Hooper, #Molly Hooper Appreciation, #Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, #Cute Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, #Minor Mary Morstan/John Watson, #Romance

2009

It wasn't that the flat was dingy and small, or that the cot was uncomfortable and hard. Memories of similar living conditions flashed through John's mind, most of it from just months ago, his army uniform cut and pressed, a gun in his hand and gauze in the other. The sound of gunfire echoed in his ears, with John's brain fighting it, attempting to give him reality instead.

John wiped his face hard and looked around at his flat, the sounds fading in his head, slowly being replaced with the deafening silence of the small room before him.

It wasn't the flat. No.

What bit him hard was the loneliness.

John looked over in the corner, where his cane leaned against the wall, waiting to be used. The only sound in the entire flat now was the sound of cheering and excited counting down of the seconds until midnight. The telly was blaring the noise, glaring the light into John's eyes and flooding the room.

After a long moment, John turned it off.

There was no point. John should just get rid of his television - nothing happens in the world anyway.

Nothing happens to him.

/

Somewhere else, Sherlock was running through a back alley in London, clutching a superficial gunshot wound to his side. He pulled his hand away. It wasn't too damp at all. The bullet the criminal shot must have just grazed him.

Good news for brainwork not to die tonight, then.

Snow had already started falling, white flakes falling from the pitch-black night sky above him. Sherlock glanced up, squinting his eyes into the sprinkling snow.

"Sherlock, are you still there?"

Sherlock looked down, his eyes following where the sound was coming from. His mobile phone blinked with Lestrade's name, the call having started almost an hour ago.

"Brilliant," Sherlock told him. "Everything's gone brilliant, Lestrade, come at once to collect your criminal."

"Sherlock, I know heard a gunshot. What happened? Are you bleeding? Are you-"

Sherlock pressed the 'end call' button, then he texted Lestrade his address. Those details can wait for the report.

There was no way that Lestrade would be there anytime soon, but really, that was no problem. In the last few minutes since Sherlock encountered the criminal, he had whipped his head with the barrel of his gun and slammed his head against the dumpster for good measure.

With the final thought, the bell on Big Ben sounded, piercing the midnight air. Sherlock counted. One, twice, three times. Then nine more.

As the residents of the buildings around him started to sing, harmonizing "Auld Lang Syne", Sherlock lit a cigarette, taking a drag, then coughed horrendously.

The singing drowned out the hacking coughs of Sherlock, who stood alone and thin in a dank alley behind an old flat. Sherlock steadied himself against the wall, and he cleared his throat.

He really ought to start wearing smoking patches.

2010

The lights danced upon the walls of 221B Baker Street, the quietness of the flat pressing down on John like a pressure point, as he stole glances at Sherlock from across the room.

The policemen of Scotland Yard were more than certainly long gone by now. That left just Mrs. Hudson, who had since fully recovered from her fright with the American men and was now one floor below, preparing to issue in the new year.

That just left John and Sherlock, alone, as the clock slowly ticked towards midnight.

John poured himself a drink, the bourbon swirling into the glass held tightly in his hands. John gritted his teeth.

It didn't mean anything.

Irene Adler was wrong. Sherlock is not his. And John should have corrected her.

So why didn't he?

John walked into the sitting room, where Sherlock was picking up his violin. His elegant fingers gripped the back of the instrument, absentmindedly running themselves up and down the strings.

"So, she's alive then." John broke the silence, keeping his voice steady. "How are we feeling about that?"

Sherlock wasn't looking at him. John could only imagine why. He stared at the grace of Sherlock's turned back, posing to start playing.

"Happy New Year, John." Sherlock still wasn't looking at him.

John didn't move his eyes. "Do you think you'll be seeing her again?"

Sherlock finally turned to stare into him, and John watched as he started the first notes to the song. "Auld Lang Syne" wafted through the tense air at 221B Baker Street, where Sherlock and John had lived together for almost a year now. The lights outside were only dimmed by the steady snowfall, with the chiming of the bell continuing to soar through the street.

At this point, John could only sit down in his chair. Thinking to himself, It didn't mean anything.

But Irene Adler's words still played through his head, drowning out the chimes of the clock, drowning out Sherlock's playing.

"I'm not actually gay."

"Well, I am. Look at us both."

John sipped his bourbon, though his throat had become tight.

Irene Adler was wrong.

/

Sherlock looked at John's reflection in the glass in front of him, thinking deeply as he pretended to watch the snow.

All the while thinking to himself: "What did it mean?"

Half an hour later, he picked up his cell phone and texted Irene. After thinking of his message for a moment, he wrote, "Happy New Year."

The game was still on.

2011

John sat alone in Baker Street, boxes with all of his things gathered in the corner. His beard, unkempt and dirty, was becoming far too wild even for John. He really should shave a little. Maybe just leave behind a mustache. Something to make him a handsome bachelor.

"Oh you prat," he said to himself. "You'd never take advantage of it."

John drank the bourbon, and the taste was the same as exactly a year before. Memories flashed in his mind of Sherlock playing the violin right in front of him, for hours and hours, before John had finally turned to bed sleeping fitfully with thoughts of Irene Adler's observations.

Could she have observed that a year later, Sherlock would be dead?

The bell chimed midnight, as it had so many times, so many years before. Texts ignited on John's mobile beside him, the screen lighting up as much as the sky probably is, fireworks booming loudly in the distance.

John took a glance, deadened eyes darting down to look at the screen. One from Lestrade read, "Happy New Year John - let me know if you need anything, mate."

Another text, from Molly this time: "Hi John! Hope you're doing better, know you've got us if you need!"

This one made John smile a little bit. Molly always was a bit of a sweetheart. Always deserved better than hanging onto Sherlock for all that time.

John's smile fell at the thought, his face grimacing. "Yeah, I should talk, shouldn't I?"

He looked up at Sherlock's empty chair, dusty and slowly losing its luster with passed time. John had made it a point not to place even a jacket on it since the Fall. The fewer reasons to look at it, the better.

John still woke up in the middle of the night, watching Sherlock's body plummet through the air, landing with a thud right in front of him on the sidewalk. John always gets there too late to catch him.

And every day, John thought to himself, "this is why. This is why I need to get my own place. Move on with my life."

"Yeah, right," Sherlock scoffed, twiddling his fingers as he stared amusedly at John. "Move on with what life, Watson? I'm gone."

John's head snapped up, and he narrowed his eyes in concealed anger.

"You arsehole," John seethed. "You made me watch you die, you don't get to be snarky with me."

"I'm not being snarky. I'm stating a fact." Sherlock leaned forward. "I'm gone, John. You know I am. There's no bringing me back. And I can't come back. So why do you still see me?"

"You're not really here."

Sherlock smiled at him. Knowingly, cocky. "I always will be, John. Because you'll never stop believing in me."

John looked at him. Tears welled up in his eyes. "Well, I have to now, don't I?"

Sherlock leaned back in his chair. The chair did not move. "You can try. But I'll always be here. Right there."

Sherlock touched John's forehead tenderly with his finger. A tear fell from John's cheek. "I hope not."

Sherlock got up from his chair and moved to the back of the room.

/

Miles and miles away, Sherlock, the real Sherlock, was crouched down behind a tree with a gun clenched in his hand. He flipped open the revolver, the sound clicking against the silence around him. Blast. Nearly empty.

Sherlock looked around. Not for the first time, he wished John was here to shoot for him. He had already missed more than he should have.

The yelling of his enemies echoed nearby, and Sherlock knew the trees couldn't protect him forever.

A gunshot flew past him and embedded itself in the bark behind him. Sherlock turned to look at it, then faced forward again to meet John's eyes.

"Looks like they're carrying AK-47s. Can't be far," John told him, loading his own gun. "I suggest you get around them, dodge them on the northside, distract them with their own gunfire. Be loud then silent. They'll never see you coming, Sherlock. I can assure it."

"I think you're right, John." Sherlock looked at him. "Follow me closely. This is going to be thin."

Sherlock heard another gunshot, and he ducked his head. He bent low to the ground, then he weaved between the trees. The leaves below his feet crunched loudly, and he heard gunfire shooting the opposite way. Sherlock grinned. John had been right.

The alarm on his watch beeped. Sherlock glanced down.

He looked up, meeting John's eyes again, firm and determined, yet soft and kind. Sherlock smiled. "Happy New Year, John."

Another gunshot. Sherlock ducked again, and when he looked behind him again, John was gone.

2012

"Have you ever thought of getting married?" John asked Mary, who was leaning up against his side on the sofa. "I mean, to me?"

"Ooh, only every day, darling," Mary told him, smiling brightly and softly kissing his lips. "Every day you tell me you love me. Every day you're with me, I'm thinking about it."

John grinned and bent down to kiss her. "Brilliant. Best to know."

Mary grinned back. "You are too, love."

John laughed, unconsciously smoothing down his mustache. Mary glanced down at it, her brow wrinkling before it was smoothed out again. "Why do you ask, anyway?"

"I was thinking about it," John replied with a soft smile on his face. "I want to move on, best I can. It's time. It's been almost two years, you know."

Mary's smile turned sympathetic. "That's right. That can't be easy for you."

"No, it's..." John trailed off. "I always knew he was important to me. But losing him...I can't believe how difficult it is for me to say. You were there for me, Mary, and for that, I will forever be thankful just to have met you."

John looked into Mary's eyes, and all he saw was life. Just life. The life he wants for himself. One the opposite of the one he led with Sherlock.

When he looked into Mary's eyes, he didn't see the battlefield. He didn't get that tingle in his spine, the excitement in his heart. Not like he did with Sherlock. With Mary, it was calm. Just quietness. Security. And the promise that everything was going to be ordinary.

John looked up in the seat in front of him, and Sherlock was staring at him again. But this time, he was absolutely silent.

This time, when midnight struck, Mary kissed him, and John felt like everything might work out just averagely. Just the way he needs it to.

/

Sherlock smoked another cigarette, the map before him wrinkled, ripped, and damp. But still readable.

Gashes lined his arms and legs, his back aching from the unhealed whip marks embedded in his skin. Sherlock shook his head, trying not to focus on the immense pain pounding through his body.

Instead, he tried to focus on John's eyes.

"I think if you hit here, here, and here," fake-John told him with certainty. "You can catch them off-guard. Especially if you avoid the back entrance, that's where they'll think to catch you first."

"So where would I have to go in?" Sherlock asked bending forward to look at where his John was pointing. "What other way is there?"

"Right-" John pointed to another point. "-there. It's only watched over by one man. It'll be their downfall not to arm it. It's the only way, I think."

Sherlock looked at John, his own face soft, scarred, and muddy. "I think this could work."

John stared back at him. "I know it will. Long as we stick together. Sherlock, you can't make a mistake here."

"I know. And I won't." Sherlock licked his lips. "Not when I'm so close to seeing you again."

John fell silent, then he smiled and nodded, a soft look igniting in his eyes. It was a look Sherlock had seen several times before. "Happy New Year, Sherlock."

Sherlock checked his watch."Already?"

"You ought to leave now. Midnight on New Year's? Fewer people at the door." John looked at Sherlock knowingly. "Of course I've kept track. Now go. The people of London deserve to see you again. I deserve to see you again. Now go."

Sherlock huffed a laugh. His eyes met John's, full of love, admiration. His stomach flipped. "I'll come back to you. Soon."

John said, "You better, and you better be alive. Now, go."

Sherlock burst out from the door of the half-burned house he was squatting in. The quietness of the area, the woods, was enough to keep his mind calm. The leaves crunched below his boots, the snow around him falling steadily around him, into his wild curly hair and long wild beard.

But it was all worth it. Sherlock will always remember that.

Anything for John Watson.

2013

"Happy New Year, everyone!" Lestrade called out throughout the Baker Street flat. "The clock's counting down!"

John grabbed Mary's hand and tried to match her smile. "Another year, my darling," he said to her evenly. "Although it is much different this time."

Mary glanced up, watching Sherlock moving around the room absentmindedly. She shook her head. "Remember, he must have been through a lot. You said he spent two years abroad, fighting Moriarty's network?"

"Yeah," John sighed heavily. "I never got so many details, but...you can imagine, right? He's never going to talk about it as much as we want him to."

"He's independent," Mary responded. "At least from what I've heard of him. I don't think he's the sort to seek out help."

"No. No, he isn't."

"But, from what I have seen," Mary continued. "he is the sort to answer calls for help. He raced in that fire to save you. I saw it for myself. He will help if you just let him."

"I don't need help, Mary, he does," John told her. "He's back after two years-"

"And he's just come back to his best friend, who's moved on with his life. Who's getting married next summer." John bit the inside of his lip at that. "He should at least help you continue to grow. And if he doesn't, then he's not really a friend, though, is he?"

John looked back at Sherlock, who was standing rod-straight in the corner of the room, speaking with Molly Hooper. Sherlock looked up momentarily, right into John's eyes. Sherlock held his stare for a moment before they both broke away.

John shook his head, trying to focus on his fiancée in front of him.

"No. No, I guess not."

/

"Is he still talking to her?"

Molly looked at John for a moment from across the room, who was grabbing Mary's hand and leading her to the kitchen. She nodded. "Yes, Sherlock, I'm afraid he is."

Sherlock gritted his teeth. "They're getting married in May, about to spend the rest of their lives together. Don't they think they have their entire lives to talk?"

Molly looked at Sherlock sympathetically. "Can't imagine how this must be for you. I mean, he just moved out? You haven't seen him for two years, barely at all this past month since you came back."

"John made his choice. And if it's her, that's…"

Sherlock glanced at John at that moment, watching as he kissed his fiancée tenderly on the cheek. Sherlock trailed off, before falling completely silent.

Then Sherlock met John's eyes for a moment, and he purposefully stared right at him. Silently asking him to break away and talk to him instead.

Of course, John didn't read his mind. Instead, he turned back to his fiancée. Sherlock let out a long sigh.

"Sherlock." Molly's brows were wrinkled, her eyes wide with realization. "Are you jealous?"

Sherlock straightened his back. "I'm not. I'm just..."

Molly's eyes widened. "You're not just jealous...you're..."

Sherlock stopped, and he looked down sharply to the ground. He felt the walls fall for just a moment around his one confidant, and his shoulders slumped.

He met Molly's eyes, who returned the gaze with sympathy and sorrow.

"Molly..." Tears came to his eyes.

Molly sighed, placing a palm on Sherlock's cheek. "Oh, Sherlock-"

"Five! Four! Three! Two! One!" Lestrade called with the entire room. "Happy New Year!"

2014

The following year brought a gunshot, fired from Sherlock's gun and into Magnussen's head. John was still shaking on the inside from the moment it happened. And he couldn't get the tender look in Sherlock's eyes out of his mind.

"Give my love to Mary!" Sherlock had called above the deafening whir of the helicopter blades. "Tell her she's safe now."

The tarmac moment was also forever present in his mind and will be forever. Because John knew there was more than what Sherlock was telling him.

If John's deductions were right, Sherlock had been on his way to his death.

And John had had no idea what to say to him as a final goodbye.

Sherlock had looked at him deep into his eyes, his ungloved and bare hand outstretched to him to shake. "To the very best of times, John," he had said.

And how true it was. Sherlock was the best of his life; that's what John should have said.

That's what he should have said years ago.

Before Mary shot him. Before Mary lied to him. Before he promised his life to her.

Before everything.

The clock was ticking down again. The minutes were going by faster than John had thought, faster than he had ever seen them.

Because as soon as he leaves 221B Baker Street, he's going to have to go back to his wife.

And it scared him how much he didn't want to do that.

/

Sherlock had brought John back to Baker Street on Mycroft's orders, but this was the first of his brother's orders he couldn't help but genuinely want to obey.

This was the first time they'd been alone since the Stag Night. Since they sat together in those two chairs. Since Sherlock felt John drunkenly brush his thumb against his knee. Since Sherlock wanted to blurt out just how much he didn't want John to marry Mary the next week.

He would have chosen to tell John that Mary is a liar. But he didn't. Because he'd never do that to John Watson, never, because he didn't choose Sherlock.

And he never, ever would.

Sherlock glanced at John. "Do you have time for tea, then?"

John gave a heavy sigh. "I wish I did. I really, really do."

"So why don't you?"

Sherlock looked at John, letting the words hang in the air. John paused in his movements, clenching and unclenching his fists. He glanced at Sherlock.

"Because I have a duty to my wife."

Sherlock nodded solemnly. "I understand. John, it's almost midnight. You should be with your wife. You should be…"

You should be with her, not with me. Because you're not married to me. You're married to her. She makes you happy in a way I never will be able to.

Sherlock cleared his throat, forcing those words away from his throat. He said instead, "you should be in your own home."

John nodded. "Yeah. I know. But I don't want to-"

"Then don't."

Sherlock bit down on his tongue. He really shouldn't have said that.

John looked at him. Sadness and exhaustion were in his eyes. "Sherlock, don't you start-"

"So pretend I don't," Sherlock told him firmly. "Pretend I'm too high to think straight. Let me say it. Please don't go home to Mary. Please stay here."

Sherlock stared at John despairingly. The words hung in the air.

Sherlock had never begged for mercy in his life. He has now.

John shifted on his feet, and he wouldn't speak. Deciding what he was going to say.

Then finally, John said, "Sherlock, I wish-"

Then John's phone rang. He looked down, his sentence interrupted. John stared at his phone for a long, long time. He almost let it ring out.

Then he answered it. "Yeah?'

Sherlock looked at John, his heart pounding, so low it was almost to his feet.

And also practically bleeding into John's hands.

John nodded. Made some noncommittal noises. Glanced up at Sherlock once or twice. Then, "Okay. I'll be there soon. I love you."

Sherlock felt his face fall. John looked into his eyes. Apologies were written in the air, all across John's face. But it wasn't ever said aloud.

"It's Mary. Sherlock, I'm sorry, but I have to..."

"Go." Sherlock gestured to the door. "I'll… I'll see you later."

John nodded. His feet didn't move, though, as if they were rooted to the very ground of Baker Street. John looked up at Sherlock, swallowing hard.

Then, after an even longer moment, John turned, and he left the way he came.

Sherlock stood in the middle of the room for a long time after that. Even after the clock struck midnight.

2015

It'd been a long, long, long time since Sherlock had felt this happy.

John was in the corner playing with Rosie, wearing a 'Happy New Years' hat too big for his head, with one on Rosie's to match. Mrs. Hudson sat right beside him holding a toy in front of the little girl's face, much to her delight.

Lestrade made his next silly face at her, switching into a bright smile upon the sound of little Rosie's laughter.

Sherlock grinned. How such a beautiful creature came from such a poor and failed marriage was beyond even him.

John's eyes were happy again, his blue eyes alight with mirth and joy, a man unburdened. Even his shoulders were less tense, now holding his daughter the way they should.

"Sherlock?" Molly said. "I'm sorry I haven't been... how are you doing? I know that explosion must have-"

"Molly, what are you talking about?" Sherlock said, turning to her incredulously. "I'm the one who owes you an apology."

"Oh Sherlock, please, we've talked about this before," Molly told him, waving her hand once. "I can't imagine what you had to go through on that dreadful island. I only hope your sister is-"

"Eurus is doing fine," Sherlock replied easily. "Everything is fine. Perfect, actually."

Molly looked at John, then back at Sherlock. "Everything?"

Sherlock looked at John, and their eyes met. John smiled warmly at him, a smile Sherlock hadn't seen in a long time.

One that was genuine. One that was John.

Sherlock nodded. "It's perfect enough."

Then Rosie started crying, with an ensuing of "awwwww!" chorusing throughout the flat.

"Looks like someone might be ready for her nap," Mrs. Hudson announced. John laughed.

"I'll take her," Sherlock volunteered with a soft smile. "I was just heading out anyway."

"Well try to make it back for the New Year, darling," Mrs. Hudson told him kindly. "The bells about to chime, you know."

Lestrade handed Sherlock her rattle, and Mrs. Hudson stood to hand her over, whom Sherlock tenderly took into his arms.

"Be right back."

Sherlock headed into the back room.

John followed right behind him.

/

Sherlock turned around, startled, as the door closed shut behind him.

John stood there, with his hand still hanging from the doorknob. As if, for one second, he thought about leaving entirely. But then his hand slipped away, hanging loosely at his side confidently and with certainty.

John wasn't going anywhere.

"John? What are you-"

"Sherlock, there's something I need to say. And I need to say it now, or it's never going to get said."

Sherlock nodded. He lay Rosie down. "Okay. Is something wrong?"

John looked away. "Look, I… I made the wrong decision. Last year."

"Last year?"

"Well, not just last year. Every time I went home with her. When I knew that wasn't something I wanted to do." John stepped closer. "Every time I knew...that I would rather have been with you. Not her."

Sherlock met his eyes. "John-"

"Sherlock, I know this doesn't make any sense. But...whatever you have to say...please let me tell you this first."

A moment of silence passed before John could continue.

"Sherlock, I have never...regretted anything more than marrying her. I should have-I should have been with you. The whole time. I don't know what I was thinking, and I'm so sorry I…"

John stopped at the shocked look on Sherlock's face. John's face fell. "I really shouldn't be saying this to you."

"No. John-"

"Sherlock-"

"I love you."

Sherlock felt the weight on his chest relieve itself as soon as the words escaped from his mouth. Sherlock couldn't believe how right it felt to finally say it, and for John to finally hear it.

John sighed, and he smiled so softly that even Sherlock felt his heart melt in his chest. John opened and closed his mouth again and again. Trying to find a way to reply.

Then, "I've loved you for longer than you will ever know."

There it was. The words finally said, finally out in the open. Sherlock couldn't look away from John's eyes.

Then the beeping started. Sherlock didn't even have to look down at his watch. Sherlock smiled wide, his face breaking out into a wide grin.

"Happy New Year, John."

John stepped forward, and before Sherlock could even register what was happening, Sherlock grabbed John by the waist and kissed him, softly, and without hesitation.

John huffed a laugh, pulled away, then kissed him again.

Finally. A truly happy new year.

[waitingformycheesetomelt]

ok i know it is the year of our lord 2022 and posting sherlock conspiracies is so 10 years ago but hear me out.

i just read "decadent poetry" and there is a poet who goes by the name of "rosamund watson" and this is a line from one of her poems ("you are mine for a passing moment / but i am yours to the death")

and it just struck me that mary maybe knew the poet and possibly even that poem ("chimaera") and got tremendously sad because she knew that her happiness couldnt last and she would only be rosie's till her own death.

[starkraivennemad]

Expectations of Home

Dr. John H. Watson  remembered the day he first saw the flat.

He looked around the place – it felt like he belonged there the moment he entered.

He was running from a ghost of himself – he knew it. It was not the life he expected, but nothing in his miserable life since he was invalided from the Royal Army had given him such a sense of expectation.

He certainly had no way of knowing that the next twenty-four hours would throw him through a life altering loop. He had found his place in the world.

And for a while, life with Sherlock Holmes met those expectations. Great and not so great – and then some. And he would not have had it any other way – save one.

How does a man who has spent the past few years all but shouting -Not Gay!- from the rooftops reconcile that he had fallen in love with his flatmate? Unfortunately, John could not get out of his own head to get out of the closet he put himself in. By the time he realized it and wanted to do something about it – it was too late.

Sherlock was gone.

With Harry still an alcoholic, he had no family to could turn to. He had lost his place in the world. John’s will to carry became was a slow, but definitive downward spiral. One that slowly caused him to cut himself off from Greg, Molly, Mike, Bill Murray, and others in his heartache.

Being a doctor was literally the only thing that was keeping him alive, and even that was becoming a thinning thread. It was not the life he expected – it was one he no longer wanted.

He met Mary Morstan and convinced himself he was in love. He was running from a ghost of himself – he knew it. Moving in was not the life he expected, but it was better than the one he had, better than none at all. John convinced himself to live the life expected of him. He convinced himself so hard, that  not even Sherlock’s return could change his mind. He married Mary and became a father.

And for a while, it seemed life was meeting those expectations. Great and not so great – and then some. And he would not have had it any other way – save one, well two…

He was still in love with Sherlock, and (Rosamund) Mary Elizabeth Morstan’s roosters were about to come home to roost in a big way that no one expected.

He woke up one morning and found himself looking at walls where he did not belong.

There was only one time and one place expectations had not failed him – all he had to do was get over his own worst expectations. He had to find his place again.

It took some time, but he did.

The widower looked around the duplex he had shared with Mary for the last time.

Their luggage waited in the taxi at the curb. With Rosie in his arms, John closed the door to the life he once expected to have and locked it; never to return.

Next stop Baker Street.

Finally, he was not running from something, but toward the best of expectations.

John kissed his daughter’s head.

“Let’s go home.”

======================================

Read/Comment on AO3

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[bestmothertournament]

Propaganda Under Cut:

Mary Morstan (Mother of Rosamund Watson): Loved her daughter and the new life that she had built away from violence. But, when he past came calling she chose to leave to protect her daughter from that side of her world.

Maria Rambeau (Mother of Monica Rambeau): Raising her daughter on her own. Got her through the grief of losing Aunt Carol twice. Maria's death during The Snap left Monica devestated.

[o0katiekins0o]

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/57779659"><strong>Horseshoes and Hand Grenades</strong></a> (2975 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0katiekins0o"><strong>o0katiekins0o</strong></a><br />Chapters: 1/1<br />Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Sherlock%20(TV)">Sherlock (TV)</a><br />Rating: Explicit<br />Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br />Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Mary Morstan/John Watson<br />Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Molly Hooper, Mary Morstan, John Watson, Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson<br />Additional Tags: Mary Lives, Fix-It<br />Summary: <p>This is for the 50 Reasons to have Sherlolly Sex prompt list #44: Wingman Diving on the Friend Grenade.</p><p>Mary survived the gunshot wound in the aquarium but will her marriage survive the knowledge John cheated with Eurus?</p><p>It will if Sherlock and Molly have anything to say about it.</p><p>Soon all four of them become victims of their own success as John and Mary's relationship becomes stable while Sherlock and Molly's "help" begins to cross the line.</p><p>Why are they so desperate to meddle in John and Mary's love life? Could it possibly be a distraction from the three small words they exchanged at Sherrinford?</p>

[unusuallysubtext]

BBC SHERLOCK MASTERLIST

Irene Adler

James 'Jim' Moriarty

John Watson

Mary Morstan (Watson)

Molly Hooper

Mycroft Holmes

Rosamund 'Rosie' Watson

Sherlock Holmes

-

Johnlock

Mystrade

-

Your Sherlock Life

[bccksmarts]

VERSE NOTES: Sherlock

⤷ Primarily for the actual BBC version, but specifics ( name, gender, family, etc ) still apply for the Wizarding World version as well

Under the cut as this could get rather long ♡

Name: Hermione Jean Holmes DoB: September 19th 2016 Gender: Female Sexuality: Bisexual with a Male Preference

Family: • Molly Hooper — Mother • Sherlock Holmes — Father • Mycroft Holmes — Uncle • Eurus ( and/or Enola depending ) Holmes — Aunt(s) • John Watson — Uncle / Godfather • Mary Watson neé Morstan — Aunt ( Deceased ) • Rosamund "Rosie" Watson — Cousin • Mrs. Hudson — Aunt / Godmother • Greg Lestrade — Uncle

Biography ( WIP ) Hermione was born to Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper not too long after the events of "The Final Problem", making her younger than Rosamund Watson, her non-blood related cousin. John, her uncle and godfather, tends to call Hermione a ❛little miracle❜ as no one would've guessed that Sherlock Holmes would ever partake in something so intimate, let alone creating a child. Everyone had come to know the man be mostly emotionless, showing his care for his friends in subtle sorts of ways.

But alas, it seemed he had a lot of emotions when it came to Molly Hooper, his pathologist. Especially after the events of Sherrinford and that phone call.

Hermione was born with a head covered in little brown curls ( colour from her mum, curls from her dad ) and a pair of dark brown eyes ( another Molly trait ). However, the things that started to appear as she was growing up was her freckles that were spread across her face, primarily over her cheeks and her nose.

By the time she turned 11, Hermione's curly hair was passed her shoulders, wild and out of control, with a curly fringe falling across her forehead—a detail that she seems to keep. And growing up from that, her height hits a total height of 5'3", near the same height as Molly.

Being the child of two rather smart people, Hermione was extremely gifted with her intellect. She couldn't do the whole ❛mind palace❜ thing her dad could do, but she was close. She could at least make deductions; not as thorough, but very close. She likes to read and study, learn everything that she possibly can and her memory can hold all that information without her having to pull out the book ever again. With her smarts and want for learning, Hermione seems to get bullied for it throughout school—primarily by a snooty platinum haired boy that she just can't be bothered with. Apparently his father heard of everything that happens when it comes to his son—pathetic, really. Throught the years, she obviously has some distaste for him, but also grows other feelings, too, which she'd attempt to deny.

However, she had made friends with two of the boys in her class. Ronald ❛Ron❜ Weasley, son of Arthur Weasley & Molly Weasley ( yes, she finds it funny both of their mums have the same first name ), and Harry Potter, son of James Potter & Lily Potter. Ron went on and on about how large his family is, several brothers and a sister. Harry was similar, but his family was more... detached. He had two uncles, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, and he went on to tell her how amazing they were. She believed it, too. Explaining her family to them was a tricky thing, considering her dad was pretty much famous ( thanks to her Uncle John's blog, no doubt ), but she did so anyway.

Throughout her years of study, Hermione takes the subjects of Chemistry, Biology, Clinical Science and Biomedical Science, as well as grades in Medicine and Surgery. She wants to be a doctor when she's old enough, to help those in need and to figure out causes of illness, injury or even death. Some could say she was ambitious in what she wanted to do, but how could she NOT be when her parents were the people they were? She was inspired to be a potential pathologist, doctor and detective if the need ever arose.

Molly, a cat lover and who had a very cat of her own, Toby, gifts Hermione her very own kitten for her 13th birthday. He was so small at first, but very fluffy with ginger fur. His face looked like he was always a bit grumpy, but Hermione loved that about him. And of all the names she decided to call him, she chose ❛Crookshanks❜.

[ofaflower]

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍: 𝐁𝐁𝐂 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐓

Reposted from an old blog. This canon is compliant to BBC's Sherlock, in terms of Mary being a secret operative. However, there are canon divergencies detailed below. This is written with a base understanding of the events of the series.

Mary's past is a little unclear; however, it is known that she was born Rosamund Mary and that she used to be a trained assassin who went rogue and changed her identity in order to hide from her past. Her accent is English, but she was not born British. However, after so many years of hiding her American accent, she’s lost it almost entirely and has to focus when she wants to use it now. 

Approximately five years before meeting John Watson, she chose the name "Mary Elizabeth Morstan" from the gravestone of a stillborn child, in order to hide her true identity.  Claiming to be an orphan in order to cover for the fact that she had no family. They met when she took a job as a nurse, (having the required medical training and falsified documents) at the clinic John worked at. It didn’t take her long to figure out whom he was, and that the stories in the news involved him. She did not seek him out, but she felt for him all the same --- and surprised herself when she realised that she’d grown feelings for him that were reciprocated.

John planned to ask Mary to marry him, a bit over a year after they had begun dating - shortly before Sherlock's return. He took her for a meal out and brought a ring, however the meal was interrupted by Sherlock just as John was about to ask her. When John finally saw that Sherlock was alive the horror on Mary's face was obvious, as she knew just what Sherlock's "death" put him through. Despite being together for less than two years, Mary was more of a serious girlfriend than the other girlfriends John had and he proposed to her soon after the interrupted meal.

The arrival of Sherlock into their lives was a tricky one --- the spy in her wanted to view him as a potential threat, but she couldn’t help but like him. However, it took everything in her to watch every step she made --- the wrong word or move would send him sniffing after her past. Fortunately, he seemed to like her and blinded himself to those bits about her (or maybe, he noticed but said nothing as a friend).

Mary did eventually marry John at St, Mary's Church in Sutton Mallet, Somerset. The wedding was attended by among others, Greg Lestrade, Molly Hooper, Tom, Mrs Hudson, General Sholto and Sherlock who was John's best man. Her wedding was tumultuous and she received a possibly threatening telegram from CAM  (that set her on edge, but she played it off as nothing --- she had people who sent her little reminders to toe the line in her new life every so often; she was used to it) . Her first dance with John as a married couple was a waltz written by Sherlock. She was revealed to be pregnant that night, after Sherlock informed them from signs he had noticed from Mary..

The truth about her past was revealed to some extent during Sherlock and John's investigation of Charles Augustus Magnussen. Under a threat from Magnussen, she went to his office intending to kill him, however she was discovered by Sherlock whilst he and John were breaking into the place. Knowing that if she killed both men, John would be a suspect, and she could no longer kill Magnussen without Sherlock witnessing, she shot Sherlock just below his chest where the wound would not surely kill him. She then hit Magnussen over the head and phoned an ambulance for Sherlock and left the building. When he was in the hospital, she told Sherlock not to tell John about any of it.  

After Sherlock ran away from the hospital Mary found him after he fed her a series of clues. He projected a picture of her face onto an empty house – saying that it mimicked her personality, a façade. Inside the house, they discussed how she could easily have killed him yet chose not to. Mary said that she would do anything not to have John leave her. However, John was present while she confessed to being an assassin. They returned to Baker Street, where Sherlock told him as much as he knew about her. Mary produced a USB drive that she claimed had everything about who she used to be on it. She begged John not to read it in front of her, because she did not want to watch him stop loving her.

Six months later at Christmas, after a period of separation between Mary and John, John told her that he did not think her past was his business but that her future was his privilege. Mary, now known to be pregnant with a girl, was incredibly relieved. John admitted he was still angry at her, but the two remained together. After Sherlock kills Magnussen, Mary and John see him off in an emotional farewell when he is being exiled and sent on a dangerous mission as part of his punishment. However Sherlock ends up being flown back in when images of the deceased Jim Moriarty start appearing around London, indicating the late master criminal may still be alive.  

Mary later gave birth to a healthy baby girl, named Rosamund Mary Watson, after herself. Sherlock, Molly, Mrs Hudson, and possibly D.I. Greg Lestrade, were named as Godparents. Alas, Mary was tracked down by a member of the assassin team she was part of and is forced to leave John and Rosamund behind whilst she takes random trips around the world, a new country, a new identity. Eventually, she is tracked down by Sherlock and John, but also Ajay, the fellow assassin she was running from. The three escape.

Mary meets Sherlock in an alcove to show him her past. She knocks him out using some sort of drug and leaves after he has seen the real Mary Watson, also known as Rosamund Watson. Her real maiden name is still unknown. We later find out, in an aquarium, that a government secretary, Vivian, gave the order in a fateful mission in Georgia that cost the lives of half of A.G.R.A., Mary's former assassin team. Vivian moved to shoot Sherlock, and Mary watched in horror as he stood frozen in shock. Moving to pull him out of the way, she was hit in the shoulder. The action was stupid and she berated herself for it, but it proved non-fatal.

Still, the action was a close call --- and with everything that had happened, along with Rosie to be considered. The Watson’s needed to reconsider how they engaged with Sherlock and his world. Prompting a period of distance, as they also had their own issues to work out. However, Sherlock’s challenging of Culverton Smith --- and his extreme backslide prompts them back into the fray once more.

Mary is still shot in the aquarium, but she is shot trying to pull Sherlock to the ground. The shot is not fatal, and both survive the incident. Instead it hits her shoulder, and while she recovers from the injury, and her arm is never fully the same again afterwards.

I don't have a full canon for how The Lying Detective works, but I feel like even though she's fine --- Mary getting shot would likely still cause some tensions with their newborn child and make them evaluate some things. Which could lead to distance. Which isn't to say they don't want to go on these adventures, or 'ruin' the fun --- but they have a small person to look after and getting shot at by choice is not a good way to do that and this dynamic is just going through a re-calibration period. I'll likely plot this with partners specifically to make it work for our threads, but this is my  default.

Because of how fast paced and unexpected it is, Mary is with them when Eurus' drone attacks Baker Street and is with the three of them there. She also was a part of the trick played on Mycroft by Sherlock and John to push him to confess to Eurus' existence --- but she also voices during the scene that she thought the whole thing was a tad bit dramatic, but when are things ever not. "Also, the costume fit and it was a little funny."

[maryholmes94]

Лучший друг (3379 words) by Mary_Holmes_94 Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sherlock (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Mary Morstan, Mary Morstan/John Watson Characters: Mary Morstan, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mycroft Holmes, Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s04e01 The Six Thatchers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Drama & Romance, Loss, Grief/Mourning, Falling In Love, John Watson Dies, Mary Lives, Marylock - Freeform, Rare Pairings Summary: Мэри удается избежать встречи со смертью, но вместо нее погибает Джон. Альтернативная история с пейрингом Мэрилок.

Time for some rare pairs, what do you say? ;)

[ao3feed-sheriarty]

Rosie and the pride month

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/CboeKUk

by Sherlockholmesfan2021

Little Rosie celebrating the pride month with her Dads!

Words: 305, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock (TV) RPF, Miss Sherlock (TV), Шерлок Холмс | Sherlock Holmes (TV 2013), Young Sherlock Holmes (1985), Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson (TV 1980), Sherlock Holmes (US TV 1954), Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson (TV Russia), The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade, Molly Hooper, Mary Morstan, Mrs. Hudson (Sherlock Holmes), Janine (Sherlock), Irene Adler (Sherlock Holmes)

Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Mary Morstan/John Watson, Mycroft Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson & Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson, John Watson & Rosamund Mary "Rosie" Watson

Additional Tags: Johnlock Roulette, TJLC | The Johnlock Conspiracy, POV Sherlock Holmes, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes, POV John Watson, Top John Watson, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson Being Idiots, John Watson Whump, John Watson is a Good Doctor, Gay Pride, Pride, Writer's Pride Month 2021, Gay Male Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Gay Character, Gay Parents, LGBTQ Character, Pride Parades, Gay Sex

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/CboeKUk

[all-things-andrew-scott]

Button Surplus Giveaway!

I distributed buttons instead of ribbons at Sherlocked USA and I have leftovers!

I have one “Mary Deserved Better” left

And I have 6 (SIX!!!) “Proud Sheriarty Trash” buttons left!

Rules:

You must have been following me before 5/30/2018 (and are of course still following me).

You must reblog this post. It is your entry. If you reblog it multiple times you’ll still only be entered once.

I will announce the winners on 6/7/2018

Have your private messages open so that I can inbox you for your mailing address.

Unfortunately I cannot ship overseas so only US entries will be accepted. I’m sorry. I love you all.

[sherlocksbag-of-thumbs]

What if when Mary got that telegram from Cam at the wedding, it was Magnussen.

His name is Charles Augustus Magnussen, meaning that his initials would be CAM.

And that that’s why she looked nervous after she got it.

[purpleyin]

BBC Sherlock moodboards: Femslash February 2022 - Victorian Molly/Mary

Using @femslash-friday-prompts picture prompt for Feb 25th. ~660 word ficlet behind the read more.

---

One day, unexpectedly, Miss Mary Morstan visits Molly to enquire about her father's death. What is exceptional about this turn of events is that Molly Hooper has absolutely nothing to do with his autopsy of Captain Morstan, officially speaking. But Miss Morstan doesn't hedge around that, she accepts the fact that Molly Hooper and 'Malcolm Hooper' are the same person. She doesn't act scandalised about Molly's expertise either, inviting frank discussion of her findings. Molly only had a chance to do a preliminary autopsy before she was ousted from her position, but she'd seen enough to know it was surely foul play.

Miss Morstan came home many weeks later, missing her father's funeral, chasing after the ghost of the investigation long since declared dead. She won't speak of why she was away, or the delay in her return from India. It is said but not elaborated on that her family has enemies and so the murder is not surprising in the least. The more Molly gets to know Mary, the more she wonders if those enemies were her father's or somehow Mary's, despite how outlandish it sounds to Molly's ears. She tries to ask outright once but all Mary will say is she has her own secrets. It seems to be implied Molly should understand not wishing to speak of what the world may make them do. And given the grace Mary permits Molly despite her failed subterfuge she should perhaps be grateful, but there's a rebellious part of Molly that is insatiably curious. Who watches Mary's wry, amused smiles with interest and wishes they could both speak of everything, in a way she can to no other.

Mary procures a private investigator for her father's case and she is clearly kept abreast of developments, which she visits Molly regularly to discuss. Each visit Mary brings a small bouquet as well. The investigator does due diligence but progress is slow and she senses Mary's impatience. Mary is always eager to talk over each new tidbit of information, trusting Molly's opinion, something she hasn't felt since she was forced out of St Bart's. Eventually, Mary fires her investigator and Molly offers to reach out to an old acquaintance, Sherlock Holmes, begging a favour she isn't sure he will permit, if he even remembers her. Mary has other plans though, intent to dig into things herself 'through whatever means necessary'. When she catches Mary's eye that day, wondering what she should say to her at that, she sees they blaze with a slowly built fury. If Mary were anyone else, she would ask her to be careful, but she has the uncanny feeling it's Mary others should be careful of.

She doesn't see Mary for several weeks, leaving Molly a touch melancholy and prone to reflection. It takes Molly until then - regarding the drying last bouquet that is her only souvenir of their relationship - to realise the theme of those gifts. That they may be a potential talking point, for example. Every flower beautiful and deadly, if prepared in a particular manner. A meaning that would not be known by the general public, only by those who specialise in the poisonous for one reason or another.

When Mary comes around again, she is jubilant at having solved her father's case. But Molly remembers nothing in the papers that week and she wonders what is the justice Mary speaks of. To her disappointment, Mary does not bring flowers then and she fears their friendship is at a natural end, even though it feels as unexpected to her as their start. However, flowers are left when Molly is out the next day - blue Muscari and a calling card with simply the initial R elaborately scripted on it. The flowers are those of remembrance, not deadly in the least. There's a time, date and place handwritten on the back and the message “Come find out my secrets if you dare”.

[peepingcreek]

Good evening girlies! Today I am thinking about how Mary brought Rosie(relationship) to the bedroom(sex/intimacy) and john took her(relationship) and his phone(heart)with them out of the bedroom(intimacy) after sherlock (detective twink) textedJohn saying that he missed him(bisexual army doctor)