#sherrinford / eurus

[randomnessoffiction]

For those wondering why I used a photo of Captain Hastings for Sherringford it's because Hugh Fraser played him in a Big Finish audio drama - and to my knowledge the only actor to actually play him.

[sakshisahu]

POV : When you are getting ready unknowingly for a traumatic day.. -MH

[threehours-aday]

for some weird reasons i like eurus so much. she's a total chameleon. i like her.

(does that mean i like chameleons too? ew, no.)

[consult-sherlockholmes]

@consultjohnwatson something happened, but I won't tell you what, and I think I need medical attention.

@atamh please bring Eurus back to Sherrinford and make sure she stays there this time so this doesn't happen again. She is a danger to all of society, but mostly to me it seems.

[himbovillains]

i’m not scared. not of you.

if it were possible for the smile on his face to become more sinister than it already has been, then it happens in the moment that sherlock speaks. the plush sofa upon which jim is sitting creaks as he pushes himself up to his feet, before approaching the glass that separates them with slow and measured steps. ‘ no, i wouldn't think you were... in fact, i think i'd be disappointed if i scared you. ’

he wants to press himself against the thick glass like a cat, in an effort to get himself as close to the body opposite him, even if he can't physically touch it. the tactile nature of his obsession with sherlock holmes has, as of yet, gone unexplored, but he'll continue to hold out hope that one day he'll get what he wants. he always gets what he wants because he makes it so. not even the sky is the limit for his aspirations, not when he has strung webs through the clouds to pull and tug and manipulate however he so desires.

and of course, there are plans in place, there always are and always will be. it's just figuring out how to start rolling those wheels into motion. but once they're going, there'll be no stopping them. he's designed them that way, with no breaks and no reprieve from the chaos that they will cause. ‘ ...aroused you? now that i would prefer. but i don't suppose that's your style, is it? ’ // @theirmadness

[psdrawsthings]

HLV: The Christmas Treat

"We never do this!"

I just realized... Mycroft usually goes to Sherrinford for Eurus's treat on Christmas Day.

Here he is clearly not at Sherrinford on Christmas Day.

It's after this that Eurus starts broadcasting Moriarty all over television. Mycroft could still have prepared something for her but if he couldn't be there to deliver it personally as agreed he had no insight in what was really going on.

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (20) Do-Over

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 20)

Summary: Rosie comes home in the middle of the night, and realises that her parents have kept a horrible secret from her.

Twenty Years Old

I tried my best to be quiet when I locked myself in at three in the morning. The intended sleepover at Clare’s had ended abruptly, when her brother had stumbled in around midnight and broken two of his fingers when he tried to find his way in the dark. Being familiar with injuries of all kinds, I insisted on accompany him and a rather hysterical Clare to the closest A&E. That sorted, I decided to go home. Clare’s parents, who had attended a party, were summoned to the hospital as well, and my services weren’t needed anymore. 

When I heard muffled sounds from the living room, I was puzzled. I couldn’t quite discern if one of my parents was talking on the phone, or if they were talking to each other. And then I heard sobbing. Dad. I froze and all kinds of thoughts soared around in my mind.

Had anyone died? Nana? Pops or Granny? 

I didn’t even dare thinking about uncle Myc or Molly. Papa’s words stopped me from opening the door and inquire. His voice was thick with emotions, clearly crying himself.

“I’m sorry, John. I wish she’d never been born!”

The last sentence was delivered with passion and venom.

Who the hell was he talking about?

“It’s not your fault, my love,” Dad croaked. “You didn’t remember her. She knew what she was doing. Stop blaming yourself.”

“But you’re still suffering, and it’s been years,” Papa protested, the devastation pouring out of his voice.

“Only a vicious nightmare because of the events earlier today, Sherlock. She can’t harm us anymore now,” Dad soothed. “Let’s go back to bed.”

I exhaled shakily, only then realising I’d been holding my breath for too long. Slowly, I ascended to my room, knowing that sleep wouldn’t grace me with its presence tonight. Only one option, then.

Are you available? Need to talk. I’m home.

A car will pick you up in twenty minutes. UM

***

No sounds were coming from Dad and Papa’s bedroom when I snuck down the stairs twenty minutes later. A nondescript driver nodded at me when I slid into the back seat of one of my uncle’s cars. I was surprised to see that the car stopped outside uncle Myc’s house and not the Diogenes Club. I suddenly felt bad for interrupting his sleep.

“No need to apologise, Rosamund,” uncle Myc assured me before I’d even said a word. “We had just woken up. Gregory was called away to a crime scene.”

“Right. Perhaps for the best,” I said hesitantly, while I curled up in one of the comfortable armchairs.

“Your parents don’t know you’re here,” he stated.

“No. Hopefully I managed to sneak out soundlessly. I…overheard something when I came home. Unexpectedly. I was supposed to spend the night at Clare’s, but a trip to the A&E put a stop to that,” I sighed.

Uncle Myc cocked an eyebrow at the mentioning of the hospital.

“Clare’s brother. Broken fingers. She went hysterical, so I…”

“You took it upon yourself to accompany them. Being a comforting presence. Just like your father,” he summarised.

Despite my distress, I had to chuckle a bit. I wondered if he was aware of how much he reminded me of Papa in such moments. Probably, I concluded.

I gave him a clinical summary of what I’d heard back at 221B. He inhaled sharply and clenched the armrests so hard his knuckles whitened. His eyes closed and a pained expression manifested on his face. Years of practise paid off because when he opened his eyes again, he was his normal calm self. 

He told me about his and Papa’s sister Eurus and what she’d done as a child and that she’d been locked up at a place called Sherrinford. I was shocked beyond belief, and braced myself when uncle’s look got even more sombre, after he’d uttered the words: “and then she managed to escape.”

“Dad was trapped in that well, and Papa…”

I had a hard time grasping all this mind-blowing and horrific information.

“Yes,” uncle interrupted.

There was no need to tell that tale one more time.

“So, why now, do you think? Dad’s nightmare, I mean.”

“Ah, yes. I got a call from Sherrinford yesterday. Eurus fell into a coma. She never woke and died a few hours later. We all went there yesterday to confirm and bury her,” he told me and clenched his jaw tight.

She was his little sister, I thought, and tears started to stream down my cheeks.

“Don’t,” he said fiercely when I was about to rise and go over to hug him. 

“But, uncle Myc, she was your…”

“She was a predator, a manipulator, a cold-blooded killer. Eurus stopped being my baby sister long ago, Rosamund, and I’m glad she’s dead. It means that one of the heavier burdens I’ve been forced to bear, is finally lifted off my shoulders.”

“I still want to hug you,” I whispered. “We could both need one, I think.”

Uncle Myc stood and opened his arms. He held me tight, and I buried my nose in his chest and inhaled the familiar scent of his luxurious aftershave.

“Thank you for keeping us safe,” I murmured and rubbed his back.

“A privilege, my dear,” he assured me with a steady voice. “The guest room is ready for you. No need to go back to Baker Street at this hour.”

“How can anyone think of you as a heartless person, Mycroft Holmes?” I asked fondly and stroked his cheek.

His blush and muteness spoke volumes. He was just as sentimental as his younger brother.

(Canon do-over)

Also available on AO3

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @raina-at

More tags in the replies

[aveline-amelia]

You know how I complain about the lack of emotional resolution in The Final Problem? It's not an issue exclusive to that episode.

In The Great Game, there is an explosion at 221B, when John enters the room expecting to see a hurt or injured Sherlock, but instead, we see Mycroft and Sherlock talk about a case.

Why is this interesting? We know Mycroft went straight there after he heard about the explosion, most likely for reasons other than the case like, idk, to check if his brother is still alive? We are not shown that. If Mycroft showed any concern towards him, it is entirely off screen.

We are shown Mycroft watch Sherlock get tortured and speak to him in bad Serbian (why was the Serbian so bad? Was it supposed to be bad?), mirror the actions of his torturers and refer to his torture as a "holiday."

What are we not shown? Mycroft helping him out of the chains. Arranging for him to get his wounds mended. Any possible show of concern. See a pattern?

The Great Game was mostly from John's pov, so it makes sense there. John wasn't there. Here you have no excuse, as season 3 is mostly Sherlock's pov.

So why did they not show us that? They were afraid of consequences. It's the same reason the Lazarus explanation felt like a retcon and a cop-out to people.

I saw a hypothesis that just as Option 1 was Anderson's fantasy and Option 2 was the fangirl fantasy, Lazarus is Sherlock's fantasy.

In this version, he had the events perfectly in control, Mycroft didn't cause him to get screwed over and it was all intentional and they worked together, John, Mrs H and Lestrade were not in any real danger, Sherlock didn't get as emotional on the roof and didn't cry etc. etc. etc.

You see if Mycroft was to blame for the fall, if he was what truly led to Sherlock's downfall and it wasn't all premeditated, you would have to address that.

Sherlock would be angry with him. He would resent him for something he actually did as opposed to a vague reason we were never given or explained.

You wanted to play with emotional stakes, but you didn't want any relationships to actually evolve.

That's why John's beating of Sherlock is not addressed in The Final Problem even when it would be relevant.

That's why Molly is shown back in 221B at the end when the last time we saw her, Eurus put her friendship with Sherlock in serious jeopardy if not outright kill it.

That's why they wrote Rosie into the show and then did next to nothing with her.

That's why 221B explodes and then is rebuilt in a quick montage at the end of the episode.

That's why Eurus is put back into the very same prison she had no issue mindfucking everyone in and escaping from.

That's why we don't see Sherlock reacting to Mycroft being freed or have them discuss events of Sherrinford.

Because they wanted to put these characters through hell, but not actually have anything change.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph! Any fics with Moran? Either as a prevalent side character or the main. If not, non-romantic Mycroft fics?

Hi Lovely!

Ah, for Mycroft, you can check out these list below for fics I've recced:

Mycroft Flirts With John

Mycroft Plays a Role in This Fic

Mycroft Plays a Role Pt. 2

Mycroft Plays a Role Pt. 3

Matchmaker Mycroft

Big Brother Mycroft

Big Brother Mycroft Pt 2

Big Brother Mycroft Pt. 3

Holmes Brothers’ Relationship

For Moran, I don't have many that I recall, so I did a tag/name search for MORAN on my lists. Check these out, and please add your own, friends if you have them!

======

MORAN IS IN THIS FIC

BOOKMARKS

I Will Take Care Of You by SailorChibi (T, 16,664 w., 15 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Sick Sherlock, BAMF John, BAMF Lestrade, Reunion Fic) – Two years after Sherlock's death, John comes to find him on the sofa. Wounded and ill, Sherlock is convinced he's hallucinating and refuses to share any details about Moran or the fact that Mycroft has been compromised. That doesn't stop John from stepping up and taking care of the last of Moriarty's web, BAMF-style.

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic / Meta Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Demisexual Sherlock, Holmes Family, John Whump, Gay Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Drug Addiction, Parenting, TFP is a Nightmare, Virgin Sherlock, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Switchlock, John’s Past, Sherlock’s Past, Eurus, Love Confessions) –Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

Sherlock Holmes Live by emilycare (E, 488,496 w., 73 Ch. || Theatre AU || Immersive Theatre, Romance, Slow Burn, Fake / Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Bisexual John, Demisexual Gay Sherlock, Alternating POV, Falling in Love, Eventual Case Fic, Soft Sherlock, Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending, Pining John) –  Down on his luck John Watson answers an advert for a paid role in an experimental play. Enter William Scott with a most unusual proposition: help him test run a two person immersive experience, oh and by the way there is sex and romance involved.

MARKED FOR LATER

I Didn't Know I How Much I Needed You by orphan_account (M, 4,270 +w., 3/? Ch. || WiP || Teen Ballet/Rugby High School AU || Ballet Dancer Sherlock, Rugby Player John, Gay Sherlock, Underage Sex, Graphic Violence, Teenage Drama, Blow Jobs, Anal/Oral, Spanking, Implied Past Child Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Drug Abuse, Prostitution, Sex Worker Sherlock, Pimp!Moran) – Sherlock is an orphaned boy raised by his abusive foster father. He's under the control of an over-bearing and cruel pimp, Sebastian Moran, who makes a lot of money off of Sherlock's ability to seduce anyone. Treated like a worthless whore, Sherlock feels loved for the first time when he meets John Watson, a rugby player with a hard life. The two boys are drawn to each other instantly and thus begins a beautiful relationship that neither of the boys have ever experienced before.

Curse of the Were-Tuna by WhoGroovesOn (E, 46,916 w., 9 Ch. || Were-Creature AU || Nudity, Aquariums, Fish, Body Horror, Curses, Cuddling, Romance, Transformations, Frottage, Anal, Fem! Moriaty/Moran, First Time) – John couldn’t help but feel as though the large tuna beyond the glass was staring at him, which was weird because it’s not like fish had eyelids, they always seemed to be staring at things.

Rust Red Skies by bakerstreetashtray (E, 73,597 w., 26 Ch. || Army/Military AU || MorMor) – Jim Moriarty is a newly qualified medic, uncertain about the job and heading out to Afghanistan to be posted out with a team. NEO Team, to be specific - headed by one, Captain Sebastian Moran. Working under impossible conditions in a volatile area, inexperienced with saving lives and recovering from a troubled childhood, the attention of the Captain is the last thing on Jim's mind. And yet, it might just become the first.

Between the Fall and the Creation by 7PercentSolution &  shelleysprometheus (E, 78,954 w., 23 Ch. || Angst, Betrayal, Case Fic, Trust, Revenge, Rebirth, Grief/Mourning, Alternating POV, Extortion, Entrapment, Blood and Torture, BAMF John, Twins, Suicidal Ideation) – However inconvenient. However improbable. Could be dangerous. SHJohn had stared at those two lines of text for far longer than was necessary. In seven words, in an instant, his life had both been given back to him and at the same time, altered irreparably. Of course, he had gone. Had he ever not followed wherever Sherlock had led? And he had watched, silent, still, gun pressed solidly to the back of Moran’s head as Sherlock had faced down Moriarty and Moriarty had … well, done the unthinkable. Not that he’s not grateful to the depths of his being for Sherlock’s return and Moriarty’s demise. He is just, well… most probably he is in shock. When Sherlock had ‘died’, John’s world had fallen apart. Cracked, shattered into pieces, been obliterated. And now that Sherlock is back, living, breathing, sitting calmly across from him in the living room of 221B, he is … numb, furious, deliriously happy and devastatingly betrayed—all at the same time. He’s fucked up in a hundred thousand different ways. And Sherlock ... The fact that their chairs now face the hearth rather than each other is an indication of just how large the gulf that has opened up between them really is. Part 4 of the Forethought and Fire series

Few Escape the Gallows by 7PercentSolution &  shelleysprometheus (E, 92,406 w., 26 Ch. || Grieving John, Case Fic, Angry Moran, Torture, Domestic Violence, Knife Play, Blood and Injury, BDSM, Sulking Sherlock, MorMor) – Sherlock is dead. Moriarty is free. And John is ... falling. What do you do when you have nothing to lose? Following on from A Dead Man's Money, this fic pits a grieving John Watson against an angry Sebastian Moran. Mycroft is scheming in the background and Moriarty is making mischief. And Sherlock ... ? Part 3 of the Forethought and Fire series

Fin de Siècle Series by Calais_Reno (M, 102,149 w. across 20 works || Victorian AU || Alternate First Meeting, Friends to Lovers, Alternating POV, Misunderstandings, Period-Typical Homophobia, Love Declarations, Grief/Mourning, Victorian Attitudes, Marriage of Convenience, True Love, Loneliness, Hurt/Comfort) – Holmes and Watson meet and commit themselves to one another, in spite of laws that make their relationship illegal. Holmes confronts Moriarty at Reichenbach hoping to end his influence in the government; he falls, but does not win. Moriarty's machine continues. While Holmes tries to make his way back to England, Watson, believing Holmes dead, suffers the consequences of their opposition to Sebastian Moran, Moriarty's successor. Finally reunited after several years, Holmes and Watson work to end the corruption that has taken over Britain's government.

We Will Survive by anny (M, 103,007 w., 21/25 Ch. || WiP || Viclock vs Johnlock, Past Viclock, Anal / BJ’s / Orgasms, Music, Jealousy, Case Fic, Social Media, Protective Mycroft, Pining John / Sherlock, Fluff, Weddings, Drug References, Drunkenness, Angst, Humour, Character Death) – After Reichenbach, Sherlock is back in London to face a new villain: Sebastian Moran. But he has to deal with John's new life with Mary Morstan, and he soon understands that things between them have changed. With the arrival of Victor Trevor in Sherlock's life, John will finally deal with his true feelings for Sherlock.....

[gregorovitch-adler]

Wallet

John sat back on the sofa and relaxed. Rosie was at the daycare, and the renovation of 221 B Baker Street was about to finish in a day or two. Sherlock and John were done with today's work at least.

Sherlock was out for a walk to clear his head, probably to delete some insignificant information from his Mind Palace. John was only guessing, so he shrugged to himself.

Working on the renovation of this house - the place where they used to live together and John had the time of his life before Sherlock's awful staged death - had brought them closer together once again. John had moved back into this flat with Rosie a while ago.

Perhaps this was their way of forgetting about the dreadful day at Sherrinford. John was trying to forget Eurus in general, but his messy and still a little burnt surroundings were making it difficult. She was the one to send the silent bomb to their place, after all.

Still, John was trying to live. Trying to make things better between him and Sherlock. He knew he had to be the one to make the most effort - given how he'd treated Sherlock after Mary's death. Cutting him out of his life. Abandoning Sherlock when he needed John the most, and letting him end up in that morgue at Culverton Smith's mercy.

The images of John kicking and punching Sherlock until he lay half-dead on the floor, actually bleeding from several places, flashed before John once more.

John closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn't stopped being haunted by the vivid images of that day. What had he done? He'd ruined everything they once had between them, that's what. John deserved to be haunted, and so much worse. How could he possibly treat someone he was in love with in that way? He didn't deserve Sherlock at all.

They'd started to work together again on the cases because, for some inexplicable reason, Sherlock didn't hold John accountable for his actions, even when he had every right to do so in the world.

John would never dare to even think of Sherlock as a heartless person again. John knew he would never be able to comprehend the size of this man's heart.

Still, things weren't the same. John felt that he and Sherlock had a lot of things they needed to talk about with each other. Both of them had been holding back on many things.

Not that John expected things to remain the same, after how he'd treated Sherlock. But a better communication was needed.

John will have that with Sherlock someday. He didn't know how, but he was going to try. He'd start by apologising first. He was ready to get down on his knees if that was what he needed to do. He'd do anything Sherlock asked. Anything in the world.

For now, he pulled out his wallet from his back pocket to open it.

His stomach twisted when he saw it was Mary, Rosie, and himself in the photo that the wallet contained. He felt nauseated looking at his fake smile in that photo. The time when everything was bitter but he was supposed to pretend he was okay.

It went without question that John loved Rosie, but he couldn't bear to look at the fake happy family photograph anymore. Not with how things with Mary turned out in the end.

John decided he needed a different photo for his wallet, so he took this one out and placed it on the coffee table.

He wondered which photo he'd use instead. John grabbed his phone from his pocket and opened the gallery, to go through some suitable images.

John wasn't the one to take a lot of pictures, but as he scrolled through, he stumbled across one from ages ago.

It was Sherlock in that picture, standing just outside a restaurant and laughing. Heartily and beautifully.

John stared at the image trying to recall what this was about.

That's when he remembered: They were on a case and they'd taken a short break because John was hungry. And John had tried to pull the door instead of pushing, even when the sign clearly said 'Push'. John had spitefully taken his photo after that.

John chuckled at the memory and swallowed. This one it was then. The picture he'd use for his empty wallet.

John was very much aware that he'd lost the chance of trying to have a relationship with Sherlock. He was incredibly lucky that Sherlock was ready to have him back as a friend.

John had to take his feelings to the grave, but this was the least he could do to make himself feel better. It was selfish, but it was his private thing.

It had to be this way.

*

Sherlock September Challenge by @onesmallfamily

Prompt: Wallet.

Tagging: @helloliriels , @topsyturvy-turtely , @lisbeth-kk , @keirgreeneyes , @gaylilsherlock , @clueless-mp4 , @curlyjohnlock , @a-victorian-girl , @lookingforlifeoutthere , @missdeliadili, @peanitbear , @calaisreno , @kettykika78 .

[starkraivennemad]

Heartbeat

Greg blinked surprised to see a certain name pop-up on his actual personal phone.

Mycroft had always, ALWAYS called on his work phone and sometimes at his office desk phone, but never has he called him personally. Greg felt the anxious thump of his heartbeat.

Greg started typing even as he rang in. “Hello, Mycroft, how are you?”

“Hello Gregory. Do you know that you and Sherlock are the only people in the world who have asked that, and I know truly mean it?” the unheard dejected sigh in Mycroft’s voice was loud as loud as the silent gratefulness. “Even now.”

“I’m sorry the world makes you feel that way, but I am glad that you know I do mean it.” Greg continued typing furiously.

Greg felt both honored and chagrinned. Honored that Mycroft had called him, HIM, when he was clearly feeling something out of the norm. Chagrinned that Mycroft was being made to feel something out of the norm.

“You’re typing rather quickly… If you’re busy…”

“Nope.” Greg stopped what he knew was Mycroft getting ready to back out of whatever it was. “I haven’t heard from you in a bit. Talk to me, Mycroft. I’m listening.”

Greg could not explain this thing with Mycroft, because he cannot really say what it is.

Or what he wants it to be.

Or what Mycroft wants it to be for that matter.

The last time Greg saw Mycroft was the morning he rescued Mycroft from Eurus’ cell in Sherrinford. Once Mycroft got over the initial shock of seeing Greg there, the control he was renowned for  shattered. Greg opened his arms and Mycroft, to emotionally raw to deny himself the balm offered there,  fell into them, then desperately clung to him like a lifeline. Other than to give his thanks, Mycroft was quiet as Greg was dropped off at his flat.

And then weeks of nothing from Mycroft.

Until now. Which meant it was something deep to break the silence. Read the rest on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/50929210

Mystrade Monday Prompts #59 For October 16, 2023 "I dreamed of you.”

Okay, it's not flash or even Monday, but it is this week's prompt.

@mystradepromptsandscenarios

[eadrey-the-iptscray]

Eurus traipsing about London disguised as different people only to return to Sherrinford for the finale is akin to the immortal entity that decides to repeat high school just to meet the protagonist of a YA paranormal romance novel

[tamerlane-holmes]

OOC: This is my BBC Sherlock OC blog! In this post, I will introduce my character and list some roleplay rules. (This blog is ran/moderated by @cosmicbobatea)

Name: Tamerlane Ensley Holmes

Nicknames: Tam, Tammy (childhood nickname, family use only.)

Age range: 20s-30s

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Gay (crushes/relationships are complicated. he doesn’t have the best luck.)

Skin color: White

Hair color/texture: Brown, short, wavy

Eye color: Hazel

Height: 5’8” (slightly taller than John but shorter than Sherlock)

Body shape: Lean, slightly muscular

Typical clothing: Suits in greys, browns, or blues

Friends/Allies: John Watson, D.I. Greg Lestrade, Dr. Molly Hooper, Mary Morstan/Watson

-He is the youngest of the four Holmes children, after Mycroft, Sherlock, and Eurus. He was too young to remember much of Eurus at all before she was sent to Sherrinford.

-While he might not be as particularly intelligent as his siblings, he’s better at dealing with people. He has a talent/skill regarding persuasion and charm that even his siblings seem to have at least some respect for. Sherlock has asked him to use his talent to gain information from suspects or witnesses a few times.

-He is a quitting smoker, along with his brothers, and sometimes relapses.

-He loves tea. He can’t live without it. Jokingly, he has suggested having an addiction to it.

-He sometimes has difficulty expressing his emotions easily/openly.

-He works as an actor for community theater.

-He has a love/hate relationship with a certain individual.

~ ROLEPLAY RULES ~

- Don't be rude. Just because the mod is an adult, doesn't mean they're going to tolerate rude behavior.

- No NSFW. Some innuendo content is fine, but no images please.

- Cursing is fine for the most part, but please refrain from using slurs whatsoever.

- Homophobia, transphobia, racism, pedophilia, xenophobia, etc. will not be tolerated.

- If you want to interact as a character, use anonymous ask. Character blogs are perfectly fine.

- If you want to send art in asks, please do, by all means, but keep it SFW.

- Do not spam asks!

- For any OOC (out of character) asks, please specify in your ask.

[anonymousewrites]

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

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter Twenty-One: Hypnotic Voice

Summary: Sherlock, John, Mycroft, and (Y/N) try being pirates and discover the reality of where Eurus remains.

            (Y/N) crouched with John as the wind and rain pelted them and soaked them to the bone. The boat beneath them bounced across the waves, and Sherlock stood above them. He looked down as the sailors opened the door of the cabin and came out.

            “Who the hell are you?!” cried one.

            “My name’s Sherlock Holmes,” said Sherlock.

            “The detective,” said the other sailor.

            “The pirate,” said Sherlock, grinning.

            John stepped out with his gun and pointed at the sailor.

            They had their ride to Sherrinford.

l

            As they veered off course, Sherrinford called them, and the speaker said, “Golf, whiskey, x-ray, this is a restricted area. Repeat, this is a restricted area. You are off course. Are you receiving? Golf, whiskey, x-ray, you are off course. Are you receiving?”

            “Yeah, receiving you,” said John at the radio. “This is a distress call. Repeat, distress call, we’re in trouble here.”

            “Golf, whiskey, x-ray, what is your situation?” said the Sherrinford representative. “Golf, whiskey, x-ray? Where are you now?”

            “We’re heading for the rocks! We’re gonna hit!” said John.

l

            John and (Y/N) (and Mycroft in disguise) waited on the rocks for the guards to come. The other sailors were already tied up, the message to Eurus was written in the sand, and Sherlock was in his position, so they were just waiting.

            Finally, the guards came, and all three put their hands up.

            “They stole our boat!” said Mycroft gruffly. “Them and another fella, with guns!”

            For a moment, the guards were silent, listening to instructions in their ears. Then, they motioned with their rifles. “Move.”

            They were getting into Sherrinford.

l

            John, (Y/N), and Mycroft sat in a holding cell as the director of Sherrinford walked in to interrogate them.

            “This is a mistake! I’m the victim here!” Mycroft huffed indignantly. “These two stole my boat. They’re pirates.”

            “Yeah, we really are,” said (Y/N) proudly.

            “I don’t even know who they are!” said Mycroft.

            “He’s Dr. John Watson, formerly of the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers,” said the director. “And that is (Y/N) Holmes, formerly known under the names (Y/N) (L/N) and (Y/N) Moriarty.” He glared at both. “What are you doing here?”

            “It’s a hospital. Any work?” said John.

            “I’m highly unstable. Lock me up?” said (Y/N) blandly.

            “I want eyes on Eurus Holmes,” said the director to the guards. “Go straight to the special unit, deploy green and yellow shift on my authority.”

            “Sir,” said the guard, leaving.

            (Y/N) was able to not smile only because they weren’t naturally expressive.

            The director sat down across from the three. “I’m sparing your blushes because we’re supposed to be on the same side, and, frankly, this is embarrassing.”

            “Oh. Doing a cavity search?” John unsuccessfully smothered his smile.

            (Y/N) snickered.

            “The true art of disguise, according to your famous friend, is not being looked at,” said the director. He looked at the “sailor.” “But I am looking at you, aren’t I, Mr. Holmes?”

            “Yes, you are,” said Mycroft.

            “But that is the point, isn’t it?” remarked (Y/N). “Because you didn’t look at who you gave your pass to.”

            Mycroft peeled the beard and fake nose from his face to reveal himself. The director paled, and Mycroft grinned. He then took off the wig and peeled off the overalls. Walking to the one-way mirror, he made sure he was presentable as he spoke.

            “That’s the trouble with uniforms and badges, people stop looking at faces,” said Mycroft. “You’d be better off with clown outfits. At least they’d be satirically irrelevant.”

            “Oh, you’ll find the real landers on the North Shore, tied up with two others,” said John.

            “Two others?” said the director.

            “Well, it was trial and error,” said (Y/N).

            “We had to find the right waistband,” said John.

            “This is insane. This is unnecessary,” said the director.

            “No, your security is compromised, and we don’t know who to trust,” said John.

            “And that justifies dressing up?” scoffed the director.

            “Yes it does,” snapped Mycroft. “It justifies dressing up or any damn thing I say it does. Now, listen to me. For your own physical safety, do not speak. Do not indulge in any nonverbal signal suggestive of internal thought. If the safety of my sister is compromised, if the security of my sister is compromised, if the incarceration of my sister is compromised, in short, if I find any indication my sister has left this island at any time, I swear to you, you will not!”

            The director swallowed, and (Y/N) smirked in satisfaction.

            “Say thank you to Dr. Watson,” said Mycroft.

            “Why?” said the director.

            “He talked me out of Lady Bracknell. This could have been very different,” said Mycroft.

            “For the record, I was all for it,” said (Y/N) casually.

            Mycroft touched his ear and the earpiece within. “Are you in?”

            “Just arriving at the secure unit,” responded Sherlock to his call. “Explain.”

            “Prison within a prison,” said Mycroft. “Eurus must be allowed the strict minimum of human interaction.”

            “Why?” said Sherlock.

            “Since you’re determined to meet her, you’re about to find out,” said Mycroft. He looked at the director. “Has there ever been, against my express instructions, any attempt at a psychiatric evaluation of Eurus Holmes?”

            “Yes,” said the director, not daring to lie.

            “I presume the tapes are in my office,” said Mycroft.

            “Your office?” said the director.

            “Cast your mind back,” said Mycroft. “It used to be yours.” He strolled out of the holding cell.

            (Y/N) smirked and followed with John beside them. The poor director trailed after them.

l

            Sherlock stepped into the holding cell of Eurus. Glass separated him from her as she played the violin, facing away from him. He wasn’t sure how to act even approaching her. Part of him wished he had either John or (Y/N) with him because they were in so many ways braver than him, but…he didn’t want them to be near Eurus. She had already tried to hurt John, and Sherlock didn’t want her near (Y/N). So he had to face her on his own.

            He stepped forward. Her playing faltered. Sherlock stepped back. The smooth violin music returned. Eurus was aware of his presence.

l

            “Why am I here?” said Eurus in the recording.

            (Y/N), John, Mycroft, and the director sat in Mycroft’s new office watching the video play on the screens in front of them.

            “Why do you think you are here?” said the man in the recording, out of view of the screen but clearly heard.

            “No one ever tells me.” She spoke quite monotone, the same cadence and rhythm in every word, unchanging and almost robotic. “Am I being punished?”

            “Were you bad?” said the interviewer.

            “There’s no such thing as bad,” said Eurus.

            “Well, not good.”

            “Good and bad are fairy tales,” said Eurus. “We have evolved to attach an emotional significance to what is nothing more than the survival of the pack animal. We are conditioned to invest divinity in utility. Good isn’t really good, evil isn’t really wrong, and bottoms aren’t really pretty. You are a prisoner of your own meat.”

            “Why aren’t you?”

            Eurus raised her gaze from the floor, but it was blank, even, empty. “I’m too clever.” She barely blinked. “She smiles at you when you come home. Like a reflex.” The change in conversation was sudden, but Eurus had barely paused.

            “Everyone we sent in there…” The director trailed off. “It’s hard to describe, it’s like she—”

            “Recruited them,” said Mycroft.

            “Smiling is advertising,” said Eurus on screen.

            “Enslaved them,” said the director.

            “She’s been capable of that since she was five,” said Mycroft. “She’s an adult now. I warned you. I ordered you.”

            The director scoffed in an attempt to defend himself. “She’s clinically unique. We had to try.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes went to him as the director shifted.

            “At what cost?” said Mycroft.

            “Happiness is a pop song,” said Eurus. “Sadness is a poem.”

            (Y/N) paused. Does she interpret things in rhythm? A song for a lost dog, a song for happiness, the rhythm of a poem for sadness? It was odd. It was like trying to translate emotions into something tangible, something controllable and understandable.

            “Tell me the worst thing that has happened,” said Mycroft.

            The director swallowed. “She kept suggesting to Dr. Taylor that he should kill his family.”

            “And?” said Mycroft.

            “He said it was like an ear worm, couldn’t get her out of his head,” said the director.

            “And?”

            “He left.”

            “And?”

            “Killed himself.”

            “And?”

            “His family.”

            The horror of it hung in the air, and (Y/N) looked at Eurus on screen. They knew Sherlock was Sherlock, so they doubted she could make him do something like that, but…they still worried about what she could do to him.

            “You’re going to cry,” said Eurus to the interviewer, her expression not changing at all. “It’s okay if you cry.”

            “I don’t need to cry,” said the interviewer, finally speaking again after Eurus spoke for so long.

            “I can help you cry,” said Eurus.

l

            “Play for me,” said Eurus as Sherlock held the Stradivarius in his hands.

            “I need to know how you got out of here,” said Sherlock.

            “You already know. Look at me,” said Eurus. “Look and play.”

            Sherlock began to play.

            “No, not Bach,” said Eurus. “You clearly don’t understand it. Play you.”

            “Me?” said Sherlock.

            “You,” said Eurus. “Or (Y/N). I haven’t had a chance to meet them yet.”

            Sherlock’s brow furrowed, and he shoved that aside. He’d play “himself,” whatever that meant.

l

            “I warned you explicitly,” said Mycroft angrily. “No one was to talk to her alone.”

            “You spoke to her,” said the director almost sulkily.

            “I know what I’m doing,” snapped Mycroft.

            “You even brought her a visitor on Christmas Day,” said the director.

            John and (Y/N) exchanged a look.

            “I took a calculated risk,” said Mycroft.

            “You gave her a Christmas present,” said the director. “Remember her Christmas present?”

            “I am aware of the dangers Eurus poses and equipped to deal with them,” said Mycroft.

            “What dangers?” said John.

            “Eurus doesn’t just talk to people,” said Mycroft. “She reprograms them. Anyone who spends time with her is automatically compromised.”

            The director rubbed a hand over his mouth, and (Y/N) blinked. They looked back at the screen, and their brow furrowed.

            “I’m only trying to help you. We can help each other,” said Eurus to the interviewer.

            Help each other? Like someone could get her out? (Y/N) cocked their head, and John watched them.

            “Helping someone is the best way you can help yourself,” said Eurus.

            “I don’t trust you.” The voice was a bit louder, and (Y/N) narrowed their eyes.

            They lifted their hand to their earpiece. “Dad, Vatican Cameos.” A warning.

            “In a minute,” said Sherlock, switching off his earpiece.

            (Y/N)’s hand twitched. Eurus was getting into Sherlock’s head in some way, even if not controlling him.

            “It’s obvious when it started,” said the director stubbornly. “Well, she was never the same after that Christmas. It’s as if you woke her up.”

            “That is entirely beside the point,” said Mycroft. “You had your orders and failed to act—”

            “Mycroft, John, listen to the tape,” said (Y/N), turning around. Their gaze was cold as they leveled it at the director.

            “What?” said Mycroft.

            “What is it?” said John.

            “You need to really listen,” said (Y/N).

            “My sister’s methods—”

            “Do it,” snapped (Y/N).

            “You have no idea how I could help,” said Eurus. “Bring me to your wife. I want to meet her.”

            “I don’t need your help,” said the interviewer.

            “I can fix her for you, and then I’ll give you her straight back,” said Eurus. “Good as new. I promise.”

            “That’s all? What you’re proposing is not…it’s not right,” said the interviewer, but the voice didn’t feel that committed to denying Eurus.

            (Y/N) looked at the director. “Everyone who spoke to Eurus was affected. Enslaved was your word.”

            “Yes,” said the director.

            “Every single one?” said (Y/N).

            “(Y/N), this is hardly the time—”

            “Shut up,” said (Y/N), and Mycroft blinked in surprise at their tone, but if Sherlock was in danger, (Y/N) wasn’t messing around.

            “Do you trust your wife?” said Eurus on screen. “Do you trust her?”

            (Y/N) looked at the director and leaned over the table. “Tell me, Director, what is your voice doing on that tape? In that room? With Eurus?”

            “You’ve got to stop saying these things,” said the director’s voice on the recording.

            “And since you’re enslaved, Director—” (Y/N) had no doubts there “—who is really in charge of Eurus Holmes?”

            Mycroft and John’s eyes widened, and they looked at the director. Nervously, the director stood and backed up.

            “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m very sorry.”

            “No!” said John as he pulled out a device.

            The director pushed a button, and the alarm began to blare. Guards with guns ran in, and Mycroft, John, and (Y/N) had to put their hands up. The director tried to look at them, but the coldness in (Y/N)’s gaze made him lower his eyes again.

            Men in yellow uniforms grabbed them by the arms and started escorting them through the halls of the asylum, undoubtedly to some sort of cell. The alarm continued to blare, and the PA system buzzed on. John used the distracting sounds to hit one man and duck away, pulling (Y/N) with him.

            “Red alert, red alert!”

            (Y/N) faltered and stumbled at the voice.

            “Big bouncy red alert!”

            No…!

            “Klingons attacking lower decks.”

            No way.

            “Also, cowboys in black hats! Darth Vader.”

            Not him.

            “Don’t be alarmed, I’m here down, I’m here now.”

            (Y/N) could hear the maniacal grin, and their lungs constricted.

            “Did you miss me? Did you miss me?”

            Thwip! Thwip!

            A gun hit their head, and they collapsed. The last thing they saw was a haunting face on all the screens around them. Moriarty grinned at them.

       ��    “Miss me? Miss me? Miss me?”

Taglist:

@stilesstilinskiforlife-blog

@im-making-an-effort

@ilse235

@schrodingers-intelligence

@awsedrftgyhujikol

@lxserthxngzzz

@forever1313

@mentallyunstablemanlover

@roo024

@ohimjustagirlidrathetnotbe

@snowy-violet

[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>

[writingwife-83]

"Forged", for Sherlolly?

I could have gone a number do different directions with this word, which made it fun! I ended up settling on a bit of a medieval au. Hope you like it! 😉 🏰

“Now that you have forged an alliance with your sister’s Kingdom, My Lord, what exactly do you plan to do?” Sir John asked.

“While Eurus is here at court I shall lay the foundation of peace and hopefully even when she returns to Sherrinford we might continue to maintain… Who is that?“ Sherlock asked, stopping short, his gaze fixed across the courtyard and connected to a pair of big brown eyes.

John followed his line of vision and explained, “I believe, My Lord, that is Lady Molly, one of your sisters ladies-in-waiting who accompanied her.”

Lady Molly’s eyes demurely shifted away as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, but a moment later her gaze returned to Sherlock’s, and a very slight smile formed as she found his eyes to be unmoved.

As the corner of his lips lifted as well, hardly hearing whatever Sir John was saying next to him, all of a sudden Sherlock found himself filled with a new and very unexpected force driving him to maintain peaceful relations with the kingdom of Sherrinford.