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zepskies · 9 months ago

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Take Me Home - Part 1

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from.

AN: Welcome to my first ever Big Sky series! I’ve been wanting to get to this for a while now. I’m so glad I finally get to start sharing this with you! I truly hope you enjoy the ride. (Note: This is set towards the beginning of season 3.)

Song Inspo: “Fly Away” by John Denver. And remember, you can listen to the full Take Me Home Playlist ⬅️ here.

Word Count: 4,400

Tags/Warnings: A bit of angst, a bit of setup, “Glamper Girl,” and a side helping of cops enjoying baked goods…

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 1: All of Her Days

“This really feels like cheating,” you mused.

Yet again, you surveyed the sheer size and luxury of this tent you were supposed to be “camping” in.

Between the giant king-sized bed with crème and burgundy comforters, a two-seater dining table, a dresser (with a vanity), and even a small bookshelf, it looked like the Taj Mahal of glamping.

“Can’t you just enjoy it?” your best friend replied, poking a teasing finger into your side. She smirked when you flinched and gave her some playful side-eye. “My parents are the ones footing the bill, anyway.”

“Of which, I intend to pay them back for my half,” you said. Mary just rolled her eyes and waved you off. Her parents’ money was something she’d never had a problem spending.

“Come on, they’re getting ready to go on the hike without us,” she said, tossing her little purse over her shoulder. You were a bit more practical with your backpack, filled with a bottle of water, a couple snacks, bug spray, and your sketch pad.

Mary bumped your shoulder with hers as you two walked out of the tent, and you gave her a smile. You were glad she insisted on this little week-long excursion. It gave you exactly five more days to enjoy the fresh air of no responsibilities, before you returned to reality.

“So where are you guys from?” you asked a couple of walking companions on the early-morning hike.

The woods of Helena, Montana were vast and deep, and you found them a bit intimidating. You were a city girl, through and through, but you were learning to appreciate the mountains and the steep trails flanked by dense trees. You were also grateful that you weren’t alone.

Emily seemed to be a nice girl around sixteen, while her stepfather Avery was a lightly graying man in his 40s. You pegged his accent as English, the “casual posh” kind. On a scale from Dame Maggie Smith to Dick Van Dyke's attempt at cockney, you’d put Avery on a Benedict Cumberbatch level.

“Well, I met her mother in Houston,” Avery replied, nodding at the girl beside you. “She and Emily joined me here in Helena after we were married this past spring.”

Emily confirmed with a nod. “Yep, starting school here in a few months.”

At that, you could smile. “Me too, actually.”

Emily gave you a confused look while she fiddled with an app on her phone.

“What? You’re still in school?” she asked.

“No,” you laughed. “I’m—”

“She’s a college professor,” Mary tacked on. “AKA: a giant nerd.”

Emily tried not to smile at your expense. You just shook your head at your friend.

“Thanks,” you said wryly, despite your amusement. “We can’t all be personal trainers. One can only take so much Spandex.”

Mary rolled her eyes and prepared to fire back a retort, but your attention shifted back to Emily, who seemed to be debating whether to press a red button on her phone. You thought it looked like a voice recording app.

You followed her line of vision and saw Paige and Luke up ahead—a young “happy couple” here at Sunny Day Excursions. They were whisper-yelling at each other, sniping something about Luke’s birthday. Apparently, he had a problem with getting another year older.

Don’t we all, you thought, with no small amount of sarcasm. The guy had been a sour apple since the start of this trip, and to be honest, he was starting to get on your damn nerves.

“This is like, prime time stuff for my podcast,” Emily whispered.

You looked over at her. “Oh yeah? What’s your podcast about?”

“Relationships, lies, that sort of thing,” she replied.

You almost grimaced. Good luck finding willing subjects for that one.

Mary snickered on your other side. She leaned close to your ear so only you would hear.

“God, Paige’s voice is so effing annoying. Like a chipmunk on helium,” she said. “I feel sorry for him.”

You shot her a dry look. “He’s the one asking for it, if you ask me. But they’ve been going at it the whole time. Makes me feel sorry for both of them.”

You shook your head and kept walking on the trail. Mary sobered as she stared back at you. She was reminded of why you two were really here, and what you’d been through this past year…

What you all had been through.

You and Mary fell behind Avery and Emily on the trail, giving Mary the opportunity to touch your arm and stop you in the middle of the trail.

“Do you really plan to stay here?” she asked. “In dusty-ass Montana? With the snakes and the bears and the old hicks?”

“Well, I got the key to my apartment before we got here,” you said. And she knew that. “My aunt is letting me crash with her until the rest of my things ship over in a couple of weeks, and I start a new job in the fall. So yeah, I’m staying.”

Mary’s lips pursed. She gave you a long look, but you held your ground. You even popped your Airpods in for good measure. You were done with this conversation.

She huffed and kept walking.

You watched your friend go in annoyance. You knew she would try to talk you out of your decision at some point on this trip, but you hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

Heaving a sigh, you looked up at the clear sky above you, filtered through the tall trees. You took a moment to collect yourself in this great big no man’s land, where you could finally let yourself slow down for a minute, and breathe.

You raised the volume in your Airpods when a particular song came through.

“All of her days have gone soft and cloudy. All of her dreams have gone dry,” crooned the soft melody. You nodded to the rhythm of the mellow notes, but all the while, you tried to blink through the sting of tears.

“All of her nights have gone sad and shady. She's getting ready to fly…”

You rubbed your left hand, where you still had the tan line of the ring you used to wear.

“It’s really okay, sweetie,” Mary tried to console you, rubbing her hand between your shoulders.

After the hike, you all had returned to camp and sat down to brunch. It was an amazing spread, with waffles and muffins and Danishes, eggs done three different ways, toast with jam, assorted sandwiches, coffee and orange juice (and sparkling wine for the adults).

But even with a huge plate of appetizing food in front of you, you were sulking a bit. You had your face covered by your hands as you rested your elbows on the table.

“One of my only goals on this trip was to ride a damn horse, and I couldn’t even do that,” you said.

Sunny Barnes and her husband Buck were the heads and hosts of this whole trip. And after the hike, their son, Cormack, had tried to help you onto the nice chestnut mare the handler had brought out of the stable for you. But your entire body had locked up in fear at the prospect of being vaulted onto the horse.

In fairness, she was huge. And you were both afraid of heights, and animals that could buck you off its back and trample you.

You hadn’t been able to speak. You just shook your head vigorously every time Cormack asked you if you were okay.

So he’d graciously patted your back and gave the mare to Emily instead.

“I’ve never been able to ride a horse either,” Avery offered in commiseration. You lowered your hands and gave him a wan smile.

Emily was carving an apple with an impressive (and somewhat scary) looking pocketknife. She shrugged.

“It’s not so hard,” she said. But, perhaps realizing how she sounded, she looked up and gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry. I mean, I’m sure you’ll get it! It’s hard in the beginning, but once you get used to it, it’s like riding a bike.”

Right. A bike with hooves, you thought, ripping a piece of bread from your egg and cheese sandwich.

Mary bumped your shoulder with a teasing smile. “You just got showed up by a high schooler. Again.”

You pursed your lips in amusement. You tossed the piece of bread. It hit her dead between the eyes. You giggled at the way she jumped with a start.

“Real mature,” she shot back.

“Yeah,” you replied, taking a giant bite of your sandwich for good measure. “I learned from you.”

Even Emily snickered, making Mary roll her eyes in amusement.

Shortly after, Avery and his stepdaughter were finished with brunch and got up to get back to their tents.

You glanced over and noticed that Emily had left her knife on the table, now closed in its sheath.

Sheriff Beau Arlen may have still been relatively new in town, but he considered himself a consummate professional.

He’d agreed to accompany Cassie, the local private investigator (and his friend), up to this mountain pass to look for a missing backpacker. Questioning Buck and Sunny Barnes and their crew was just good old-fashioned, thorough police work.

But if it also gave Beau a chance to check on his daughter up here “glamping” with her half-baked stepfather, then he couldn’t pass up on that opportunity, now could he?

After talking to Buck and Sunny, who hadn’t seen hide or hair of the backpacker, Beau let Cassie take care of questioning Cormack Barnes while Beau found his daughter outside her tent. After giving her a big hug and inspecting her “tent” (Really? he thought. Looks more like a hotel room than a tent.), he asked her how her trip was going so far.

“Good, Dad. But you really didn’t have to come all the way out here just to check up on me,” Emily said. She was amused, but no longer surprised to see him.

“No, no, no. I didn’t, okay?” Beau refuted. Though at the look on her face, he knew he wasn’t fooling her. She was a sharp kid. “All right, maybe not the only reason. We had to talk to Sunny about a missing backpacker. It’s something Cassie’s investigating.”

Emily’s amusement faded into surprise, and then concern.

“Wait, what?” she said.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. Just, you know…parents probably didn’t get the memo that ‘off-the-grid’ was part of the deal,” he said, giving her a meaningful raise of his brows. Maybe his daughter didn’t have to screen so many of his calls while she was on this trip.

“Overprotective parents, huh?” Emily dryly remarked.

“The worst,” Beau agreed, shaking his head.

But he smiled. Just seeing her made his whole week better…and it alleviated some of the hurt in his heart. Not getting to be with her on a trip like this stung. And knowing Avery was the one who got to be there for her grated on him.

Beau was already missing too much of his daughter’s life, and he still wasn’t too sure on how to deal with that.

Speak of the devil, he thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Avery approaching. Beau forced himself to look as close to pleasant as he could get around his ex-wife’s husband.

While Mary went back to the tent to freshen up, you grabbed Emily’s pocketknife and went to look for her so you could return it. It had a wood-carved hilt and had her initials, E. A., engraved on the side. The knife looked special, not the kind of thing you wanted to lose.

You found her outside her tent with her stepfather, and a man you didn’t know. He had broad shoulders and short brown hair that swept above his brow. When he turned to look at you, the first thing you noticed was the cut of his bearded chin, and then the green of his eyes.

You didn’t realize it, but your insides stilled, just for a moment. Then you remembered to smile.

Avery looked a bit tense, as did the newcomer. You sensed you were interrupting a tete-a-tete.

“Uh, hi. I’m sorry,” you said, and extended the sheathed knife toward Emily. “Just wanted to get this back to you. You left it at the table.”

“Oh! Thanks,” Emily said gratefully.

“Well, hi there,” said the new guy. He was tall, you noted, wearing a beige jacket over a buttoned-down shirt, some jeans, and boots. It was a casual look, but all worked very well for him…in a rugged cowboy sense.

“This is my dad,” Emily supplied.

“Sheriff Beau Arlen, ma’am,” he said, giving you a more friendly smile that you matched in kind when you shook his hand. You also gave him your name to go along with it.

“You here for a little belated vacation, Sheriff?” you added.

“No. Matter of fact, I’m here on police business,” he replied. That concerned you, but he was quick to wave a dismissive hand. “Everything’s okay here. Just checking on a missing backpacker. But it looks like we’ll have to continue our search for him elsewhere.”

You hummed at that in concern. “Well, I hope you find him.”

“I do too,” he agreed with a nod.

Then, Emily took the slight pause in the conversation as her chance to escape.

“Okay, Dad, well, we’re gonna go hike down to the lake,” she said, gesturing at Avery. “But as you can see, I’m fine. We’re fine.”

Beau’s smile became a bit tight, but he nodded in understanding. He gave her a big hug, and you could see he was reluctant to let her go. Avery stood behind them. He held tension in his shoulders. You felt a bit awkward yourself, being in the midst of what was clearly an uneasy family dynamic.

Beau released his daughter. After she took off with Avery following close behind, Beau turned to you next. You tried not to blush at the sight of his handsome face.

“Sorry, again,” you said, raising a placating hand. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

His lips twitched upward, and he shook his head. “You’re fine. Though you don’t look like a local. You from outta town?”

I could say the same thing about you, cowboy, you thought. There was a slight southern drawl in his voice that sounded like Alabama. Maybe Texas?

“You got me,” you nodded. “I’m from Chicago originally, but…I’ve actually just moved here to Helena.”

“Ahh, a city girl,” he remarked. “Small world. I just got here a few months ago myself. Houston, Texas.”

Your smile brightened. Right on the money.

“Yeah, I figured,” you couldn’t help teasing him a little. His grin kicked up in the corner.

“How’re the mountains and fresh air treating you then?” he asked. “Better than that blanket a’ smog in Chicago.”

“We do not have smog…or, well, not that much,” you laughed, “but yes, I’m actually really liking it here so far. I mean, I just got here about a week ago. I’m still learning. Though Emily actually tried to help me ride a horse today.”

“Yeah?” His brows raised. “How’d that go?”

You had to laugh. A kind of self-deprecating laugh that had you half-covering your face to stem off your blush.

“Not well,” you admitted.

Beau ducked his head with a smile. He met your eyes in amusement, but not without kindness.

“Well, here’s a tip for ya,” he said. He planted his feet, held his hands up into lightly clenched fists. “The trick is in the legs. Grip tight, but not too tight. He’ll think you’re rarin’ to go.”

You blinked a bit wider. Was that just honest advice…or was he sort of flirting with you?

It made you blush in earnest.

“Ah. Good to know,” you said with a laugh. He treated you with a tip of his imaginary hat.

“Hey,” someone called out.

Both of your heads turned to a tall black woman with long curly hair. She gave you a polite smile before she nodded up at Beau.

“You ready to go?” she asked.

“Ah, yep,” Beau nodded. He gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry, gotta get back to the station.”

“Oh, of course,” you said. But you held up a finger. “Wait, just a sec.”

You hastened back over to the table of confections from brunch and offered them a chocolate chip muffin each for the road. Cassie politely declined, but Beau gladly took his.

“Although, are you trying to stereotype me or somethin’?” he teased.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but after a moment, it hit you. You’d just given a cop a baked good.

“At least it wasn’t a donut,” you quipped, despite your embarrassment. Beau still looked bemused, but he let you off the hook.

“That’s okay. I’ve never been known to turn down free food,” he assured.

“He really doesn’t,” Cassie confirmed. You noticed how she was waiting, arms crossed.

“Well, there you go! Sorry for keeping you,” you said.

“Not at all, darlin’,” said Beau. His smile had a charming gleam. “Nice to meet you.”

You quirked a smile back. “Wow, you are from Texas.”

You didn’t think you’d ever been called darlin’ in your life.

Beau’s good humor shifted into slight embarrassment himself.

“Sorry. I’ve been told to stop doing that,” he said. When he chuckled, you did along with him. You weren’t offended by it, just surprised by the old-fashioned endearment.

“It’s okay,” you said. “Nice to meet you too, Sheriff.”

You raised a hand in goodbye, and Beau returned it, watching you go. Meanwhile, Cassie watched him with a small smirk. He stepped down from the short platform in front of Emily’s tent to meet her.

“Were you just checking out Glamper Girl? In front of your daughter, no less,” Cassie remarked.

Beau shot her a look of denial. “I did no such thing. I’m a professional. And a gentleman, mind you.”

Cassie rose a brow at him. It stirred up a bit of his defensiveness.

“But, I’ll have you know that Em had already moved on when I had a friendly conversation with the glamper,” he said.

Cassie rolled her eyes. Right.

That afternoon, you decided to bring your sketchpad and your modest collection of paints to the lake. You sat on the bank and tried to paint, while Mary joined the others in swimming.

“That looks nice,” Emily’s voice startled you from behind.

You twisted to look at her, and she gave you an apologetic look. She was dressed to go for a swim in a one-piece bathing suit and some shorts. She seemed more of a conservative dresser than typical high school girls her age. Maybe that had something to do with a policeman being her father, or maybe that was just her personality.

“Sorry,” she said, raising her hands.

“It’s okay.” You waved it off and gestured for her to sit beside you if she wanted. She did so, admiring your work over your shoulder. You felt a little embarrassed by it, but you didn’t mind her watching you try to paint ripples of light on the water.

“Are you an artist?” she asked.

You shot her a smile. “You’re very sweet, but no. I just started this year.”

You’d just Googled some therapeutic techniques instead of, you know, going to therapy. You just knew that if you did, your aunt would probably tell your parents, who would never let you hear the end of it. Specifically, why it was a waste of time. Your father especially would have something to say.

But one of the sources you found suggested trying out some creative outlets to calm the mind and think productively, but not create more stress for yourself. You’d tried a few different things, but landed on painting. It was working for you so far, even if you didn’t think you were that good.

“How do you like Montana so far?” you asked your companion. “Your dad told me you guys just moved here too, a few months ago.”

“Yeah, when my mom got remarried, my dad moved to stay close to me,” Emily explained.

Your brows raised. Your painting hand paused with the brush near the page.

“Well, that’s a good father,” you said. You smiled at the thought of Beau Arlen. The way he hugged his daughter before, like she was his entire world, and the fact that he’d moved entire states just to stay with her, told you a great deal about the town’s new sheriff.

Emily nodded, but her lips were pressed. “He’s a bit overprotective.”

“Well, he is a cop,” You said, smiling. “I assume that’s just part of the package.”

“I get that,” she said. “It’s just…a bit much sometimes.”

You gave her a sympathetic look. “I understand. My dad can be like that too. He’s got his soft moments, but he can be a real tough nut too… He’s a retired fireman.”

“Wow, that’s cool,” Emily said. She looked impressed. “Did you ever want to be a firefighter?”

You chuckled. “No, and he never wanted me to. It just wasn’t my beat, anyway.”

In the many years before your father had risen in the ranks to firehouse chief, your mother had often worried about him when he was on shift. Being a firefighter in inner-city Chicago had brought some hard and dangerous calls.

But you had always been more bookish, and both your parents were grateful for that.

You sighed. Your paintbrush made a stroke of deep green on the page, creating darker shades in the bottom of the lake.

“I did end up dating one though. Almost married him too,” you muttered, before you could stop yourself. You forgot you were talking to an insatiably curious girl.

“Really? What happened?” she asked. You looked over at her, and she was staring at you with her full attention. You remembered then that her podcast was supposed to be about relationships, but you had no desire to be a subject.

“It didn’t work out,” you said at last, and with difficulty.

“Why?” Emily asked.

Your internal struggle kept you quiet. It gave time for Emily to really see the withdrawn, almost pained look on your face, the slight hunch of your shoulders. She deflated guiltily.

“Uh, sorry,” she said.

You offered a small smile. “It’s okay, honey.”

“I’ll uh, just let you get back to painting,” she said. You waved her goodbye after she got up and left, giving you one last look before she joined her stepfather in the lake.

You let out a deep breath. The teen was tenacious, and naturally curious. That in itself wasn’t such a bad thing. But as you watched her splash at Avery, laughing that weightless laugh that kids got to have, you realized how much you missed being that young and free in your heart.

Again, out of habit, you set down your brush and rubbed at your empty left ring finger.

Mary finally joined you back in your shared tent after a long night of socializing by the fire. You had kept to the tent, reading Much Ado About Nothing for one of your classes that would start in the fall. It wasn’t your first time reading the Shakespeare play, by any means, but you did want to brush up on it.

“You know, you’re actually supposed to be vacationing on this vacation,” Mary pointed out. She started changing into her pajamas for bed. You were already cozy in one of your old college hoodies and some shorts, not to mention snuggled under the warm blankets.

“I am,” you said defensively. “I hiked, I painted, I ate no less than one burger, a basket of fries, and three smores, and now I’m reading.”

“Yeah, for school,” she pointed out. “I may not be as smart as you, but I know homework when I see it.”

You shot her a smile. “You’re plenty smart, M.”

She snorted and slipped into bed beside you. It felt like the sleepovers you two used to have in college, years ago, when she’d come to crash in your dorm, or you in hers. She’d been a philosophy major (despite not giving two shits about Socrates), forced to attend college by her parents. You were an English major, working three part-time jobs just to get you through until graduation.

“Hey,” she said, laying a hand on your shoulder. You turned to her in question. She seemed more serious than usual.

“I’m worried about you,” she said. “And I’m not the only one.”

You sighed. Lowering your book, you leaned back against your pillows and stared up at the tent’s fairy lights.

“I know,” you replied. “But you don’t need to be.”

“Yeah you keep saying that, but you know the real reason I’m here, right?” Mary asked. Her insistent hand on your arm made you meet her eyes.

“You don’t have to do this," she said. "You don’t have to move out here and leave everything behind. You should just come home with me. Your parents, our friends—everyone wants to be there for you, like we have all year.”

Your lips pursed, and you shook your head.

“I’m not going to change my mind. So if that’s really why you’re here, and not to just spend some time with me, as my friend, then you should just go home,” you said. “I’ll leave here and go to my aunt’s house. I’m sure your parents can negotiate some kind of refund.”

Mary got angry and huffy, just like you thought she would. You weren’t playing around though. This was your life, and your decision.

If your friends and your family couldn’t be happy for you, or at least understanding, then they could at least respect you. You just weren’t sure when they’d get the hint that this was real.

You were moving to Montana, permanently.

On the drive back into town from the camping site, Beau ate his chocolate chip muffin and tried his best to listen to Cassie—to her theories on where the backpacker might’ve gone, and how best to tell the parents to keep her on this investigation.

A good part of him was still thinking about his daughter, wishing he could be there with her right now.

And maybe, his mind occasionally wandered…thinking about the pretty shade of your eyes when you smiled at him.

AN: And there we have it, Part 1 of a new series! If you liked it, please let me know! 🥰

And a special Happy Birthday to @jackles010378! 💖 I was going to say we're both Aries (mine is next month) but forgot Pisces comes first lol. ♓

Next Time:

The trees were tall and dark now. The moon was filtering through them like the sun had during other day hikes, but it was much more ominous at night.

“Shit,” you muttered. You gripped your flashlight in worry as panic started to well up in your chest.

Now you were lost.

You jumped with a start when the hoot of a bird passed by overhead.

Shiiiit. This was very bad.

You kept moving forward on what you thought was the trail. That was all you could do, keep moving forward. You made a few turns around some trees, occasionally calling out for Sunny, or Mary, or anyone to hear you.

▶️ Keep Reading: Part 2

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duvetfawn · 5 days ago

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CHAPTER III

A/N: Hello people. Sorry for updating so late, I've been a bit busy. I made this chapter longer as an apologise. Thanks for all the likes and reposts, it means a lot <3. (Oh, and in case I made some grammar mistakes, I truly apologise, English isn't my first language.)

PAIRING: Professor!Benedict Cumberbatch x fem!reader

WARNINGS: Some eventual swearing. Nothing in particular.

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

“There’s no way you actually went to see him.” Cassie was drinking her third shot, but not even alcohol was helping her relieve the shock. It’s not like didn’t want you to join, she knew you loved poetry, but at the same time she considered it a suicide. She didn’t want you to cry during nights like she did because of Cumberbatch.

“You’re a graphic student, why on Earth would you want to take some lessons about poetry?!”

Your friend was too drunk to have a civil conversation, but you knew Felix wasn’t approving that either.

“She has a point, Phoebe. You don’t know him.” Your guy friend tilted his head to the side, perfectly convinced you weren’t understanding the situation.

They really cared about you, and since they knew how much of a twat Cumberbatch could be, they simply didn’t want you to make the same exact mistake. That professor was the only one who could make Felix cry over a grade, and he was always careless about school. The man really drove both of your friends crazy. They were just trying to save you, but only God knew how much he intrigued you. It was the danger – that intrigued you, actually. You started to see it as a challenge; you wanted to prove to your friends that getting good grades with Cumberbatch was possible.

“He’s not that bad.” Your friends almost choked on their drinks before quickly putting the glasses down.

“Not that bad?!” they exclaimed in unison, unable to believe what you had just said.

You leaned back in your chair, thinking about the professor. The way he challenged your friends, pushed them to the limit... It wasn’t about being nice; it was about respect. And maybe that’s what you liked about him. It wasn’t something your friends understood. But you didn’t care.

“You guys don’t get it. He doesn’t just hand out grades. He makes you earn them. You don’t know the whole story. Trust me, there’s more to him than just being tough.”

“Like what? He secretly loves kittens?” Cas joked, while glancing at the “attractive” (that’s how she considered him) waiter. She won’t sleep at the flat tonight. – you thought.

“No, but... maybe you’ll find out soon enough.”

You weren’t sure what those words meant, you were sure you were going to get at least an A with him though.

The night had wrapped up, and the pub was slowly emptying out. You watched as your friends chatted, laughing and poking fun at each other, while you stayed mostly quiet, still thinking about the conversation you'd had about Cumberbatch. It wasn't like you to get so defensive, but there was something about the challenge he presented that pulled you in.

Cassie wasn’t the type to back down from a challenge either, though her challenges usually involved something a little more... adventurous. You saw her give a sly glance toward the waiter—tall, dark-haired, with an easy smile. She had always had a way with people, especially when she was in the mood for something more than just a casual conversation.

As the hours passed, the energy in the pub shifted. The music grew louder, the conversations more animated. You couldn’t help but notice her making her move. A few teasing words, a laugh, and suddenly, the waiter was sitting with her, sharing a drink. It didn't take long before they slipped away, disappearing into the night.

You didn’t think much of it at first. Cas was always unpredictable, and you’d learned not to be surprised by anything she did. But as you stood up to leave, you noticed her phone buzzing on the table. She hadn’t come back to grab it.

You grabbed it, sending her a quick text saying you were heading back to the flat. But then you paused, a little hesitant. There was a message from the waiter, something about meeting up later. It was more than casual—it was flirtatious. A smile tugged at your lips despite yourself.

The walk back to the flat was quiet. The city streets were empty now, the late-night crowd thinning out, the cold air biting at your skin. You slipped into the building, climbed the stairs, and unlocked the door to the flat, feeling the familiar warmth of home.

Inside, the silence felt odd. Your roommate wasn’t back yet, and there was a strange stillness in the air. You dropped your keys onto the counter, stripped off your jacket, and made your way into the living room. You tried to distract yourself by scrolling through your phone, but your mind kept wandering back to the night. Cassie and the waiter. What had really happened after they left the pub?

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and she walked in, her face glowing in a way that caught your attention. She looked... different. It wasn’t just the way she carried herself—it was more like she had a secret, something she wasn’t sharing just yet.

“You’re back late.”

“Yeah, I lost track of time.” She tossed her purse onto the couch. Her eyes sparkled with something you couldn’t quite place, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to know. “And you? How was the walk of shame?”

“It was fine.” You gave her a sidelong glance, but she didn’t seem to be paying much attention. She was too busy scanning the room, like she was looking for something—or someone.

You opened your mouth to ask if she was okay, but then stopped yourself. There was no need to ask. You could already see it in the way she moved, the way she kept glancing at her phone, the slight flush in her cheeks.

As you grabbed a glass of water, she finally spoke up, her voice light but with an edge of mischief.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you what happened.”

“Try me.” You leaned back against the counter, crossing your arms, still a little curious but not sure if you wanted to hear the full story.

She looked at you for a second, considering whether or not to say more, before a laugh escaped her lips. “I might have gone home with the waiter. And... It went really well.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep a neutral expression, though a small part of you was surprised by her candour. She didn’t usually share details unless she wanted to.

“Really? How well?”

She gave a mischievous grin. “Well enough that I stayed over.” She stretched her arms above her head, clearly amused with herself. “I think he might be a little smitten. Let’s just say it wasn’t just a one-time thing.”

You didn’t respond right away, just sipping your water. Part of you wanted to be sarcastic, to joke about it, but there was something else—an unspoken understanding between you. You knew her well enough to know when she was being serious, and right now, she seemed to be savouring the moment, letting it sink in.

The mood shifted slightly as you processed what she’d said. You both had your wild nights, but this felt... different. Maybe because you had no idea how to process what she had just done. It wasn’t about judgement, just the realisation that your world was shifting, ever so subtly, and you weren’t sure where it would land.

“So, what now?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “We’ll see. For now, I’m going to take a shower and figure it out.” She turned away, leaving you alone in the living room, the weight of the night pressing down on you.

You stared at your phone again, but this time you weren’t thinking about the professor. You were thinking about Cassie —and whatever happened with the waiter, you had a feeling it wasn’t going to be the last secret she kept from you.

The flat was quiet. The soft glow of the desk lamp flickered gently in the corner of the room, casting long shadows on the walls. You had intended to spend the evening reading, to dive into the worn copy of Notes from Underground that you’d picked up a few days ago. Dostoevskij had always intrigued you, his exploration of the human psyche—its contradictions, its darkness, its beauty—had always felt like something you could connect with, in some way.

After your conversation with Cas earlier, you'd promised yourself that tonight would be different. You’d push aside the distractions, the thoughts of Professor Cumberbatch, and focus. You needed to focus.

You sat on the couch, tucking your legs underneath you, the book open in your lap. The first few pages were filled with the usual musings of the Underground Man, his bitter, self-loathing observations about society, about himself. You tried to focus on the words, the rhythm of Dostoevskij's sentences, but as you read, your mind began to wander again.

It had been a simple request, really—just a quick meeting to discuss whether you could join his course. But when you walked into his office, something in the air had shifted. It was as if you’d entered a different world entirely, one where rules were set by him and only him, where even the smallest gesture seemed significant.

His eyes, so sharp, so calculating. That slight frown when you spoke, as if every word you said was being measured against some invisible standard. His voice had been cold, as it always was, and yet there was something else in it—a hint of something that couldn’t quite be defined. Was it curiosity? Or was it just the way he viewed everyone: as another puzzle to solve, another enigma to dissect?

You tried to shake off the memory, but it clung to you like a shadow.

You forced your eyes back down to the page of the book. The Underground Man, now deep in his musings, was reflecting on his own alienation from society, his frustration with his inability to act on his desires. It should have been comforting. After all, you were feeling a similar sense of frustration—not with society, but with yourself. With Professor Cumberbatch.

It wasn’t just that he was cold or distant—it was the way he saw people, the way he seemed to know exactly where their weaknesses lay. The way he had looked at you that first time, his eyes narrowing slightly, his lips barely moving as he gave you the approval to join his class. It was as though he had known you weren’t like the others, and that made you both anxious and… intrigued.

The Underground Man’s internal dialogue, so full of self-hatred, was suddenly too familiar. You could almost hear his voice—“I want to be everything, to be admired, to be desired. And yet, I remain here, on the outside, watching, always watching, but never truly seen.”

You felt that way sometimes, too. Like you were watching from the outside, never quite allowed in, never quite understood. But with Cumberbatch... it was different. You weren’t just watching. You wanted to be seen by him. You wanted to break through that cold exterior, to make him see you as more than just another student, to make him notice you in a way that was beyond grades or lectures.

You sighed, closing the book with a snap. The words of Dostoevsky had faded, now irrelevant in the face of your own swirling emotions. His coldness was beginning to consume you, a constant, nagging presence at the back of your mind. You didn’t know what it was, exactly. Was it admiration? Or something darker, something more dangerous?

You glanced at the clock on the wall. It was late—too late to be thinking about him so intensely, but you couldn’t stop yourself. The idea of him lingered, wrapping itself around your thoughts like smoke. Why did you even care so much? You couldn’t say for sure. You didn’t want to care, but every time he spoke, every time he looked at you, you felt the pull again.

You tried to read, but the words just wouldn't stick. You couldn’t escape him, not even in the pages of a book. You closed your eyes for a moment, the silence of the room swallowing you whole, and all you could see was Cumberbatch’s sharp gaze, that unshakable calm, as though he was always five steps ahead of you. Maybe it was the challenge that drew you in, you thought, the way he made you feel like you were always trying to catch up, always striving to prove yourself. Maybe that was it. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t just about proving anything. It was about him. About how his coldness made you feel like you needed to be more than what you were.

You had read somewhere that the most intriguing people were often the hardest to understand. That the more distant they were, the more fascinating they became. Perhaps that was what it was. You couldn’t stop thinking about him because you were trying to figure him out, trying to decode him like some impossible puzzle.

But you also realised, with a twist in your gut, that maybe you were trying to decode him for an entirely different reason.

You shook your head, pushing the thought aside, but it was no use.

The silence of the flat was suffocating, the kind of silence that made your thoughts feel louder than they should be. You had tried, really tried, to focus on the book in your lap. The weight of it seemed heavy in your hands, but not because of its content. No, it wasn’t the book that weighed on you—it was the battle raging inside your head.

Every time you read a sentence, every time you tried to immerse yourself in the Underground Man’s bitter rants, your mind would drift back to that man. His face, his voice, that cold, assessing gaze that had been burned into your memory since the first time you’d met him.

You hated that you couldn’t push him out of your mind. You had tried so hard. You had closed the book, shifted on the couch, taken deep breaths, even tried to replay the dull, comforting monotony of your day to drown out the thought of him. But it was useless. His image crept into your thoughts like smoke, seeping into every corner of your mind, twisting everything around.

Focus, you told yourself. Focus on the book, on the Underground Man’s cynicism, on his contempt for the world. Focus on something that makes sense.

But it was impossible.

The thought of Cumberbatch lingered like a shadow, taunting you. What was it about him that had you so utterly captivated? You barely knew him, for God's sake. You knew nothing about his life outside of class, nothing about his personal history. And yet, there was something about the way he carried himself, that air of indifference mixed with intellect, that had gotten under your skin in a way you couldn't explain.

You shifted uncomfortably, your heart racing for reasons you couldn’t quite name. You didn't want to think about him. You really didn’t. The thought of liking him—of feeling something for him, something other than disdain or annoyance—made you feel… dirty. It wasn’t right. He was your professor, after all. The power dynamic between you two was something you couldn't ignore, and yet your body had betrayed you, repeatedly, in ways you couldn’t control.

Why was it so hard to just stop thinking about him?

You hated this feeling. It wasn’t admiration; it wasn’t respect. It was something else. Something that made your stomach twist uncomfortably, as if you were standing on the edge of a precipice and couldn’t quite bring yourself to step back from it.

Why couldn’t you just leave it alone? Why did your thoughts keep drifting back to him, like he had some magnetic pull over you?

The mere idea of him—of liking him, of being attracted to him—made you want to crawl out of your skin. You could feel the shame creeping up your neck, heat spreading across your face.

This is ridiculous, you thought, clenching your hands into fists. He’s your professor. He doesn’t care about you. He probably doesn’t even see you as anything other than just another student—just another face in a sea of faces.

But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, the discomfort wouldn’t go away. The thought of him lingered like a taste you couldn't wash from your mouth, sweet and sour all at once.

You stood up abruptly, pacing the small flat. The low hum of the city outside the window seemed to taunt you, as though the whole world was moving forward while you were stuck in this strange mental loop. Every time you thought you’d gotten rid of him, he'd slip back into your thoughts.

I need to sleep, you told yourself, desperate for some escape from the dissonance swirling in your mind. Sleep is what I need. Forget about him. Just sleep.

You grabbed your book and threw it on the nearby desk, suddenly unable to stand the sight of the pages anymore. Your breath was shallow, your hands trembling slightly. This wasn’t like you. You weren’t one to obsess over things like this. You weren’t someone who let a professor—someone who barely even noticed you—take up so much of your mental space.

But you were. And it scared you.

You moved toward your bedroom, your steps heavy with exhaustion. The night had dragged on far too long, and you felt the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. You undressed quickly, too tired to think, and crawled into bed, pulling the covers tightly around your body as though they could somehow shield you from the storm of emotions raging inside.

You lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open, the silence almost unbearable. You tried to clear your mind, but each time you closed your eyes, his face appeared. His eyes. That voice.

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if that would banish the thoughts away.

The sunlight filtered in through the blinds, casting soft stripes across the room. You woke up to the familiar hum of the city outside, the world moving on without pause. Your head ached a little, not from the usual hangover, but from the weight of your thoughts, which had stayed with you throughout the night. But for now, you pushed them aside.

You rubbed your eyes, stretching under the covers, still half-dazed from the lack of sleep. It was Saturday, which meant you had the luxury of a lazy morning. The apartment was quiet, save for the faint sound of Cassie moving around in the kitchen. You could already hear her talking, her voice cheerful, full of that easy energy that always seemed to fill the space. As you dragged yourself out of bed, the familiar scent of coffee wafted through the apartment—one of the few things that always made you feel more awake. You walked into the kitchen, where your friend was sitting at the table, sipping her coffee with a mischievous grin on her face. There was a spark in her eyes that was impossible to ignore, a knowing glint that made you immediately suspect what she was about to say.

“Morning,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes one more time.

“Good morning!” Her voice was bright, almost too bright. She leaned back in her chair, casually stirring her coffee, her gaze never leaving you. “So, how was your night?”

You winced slightly, a quick flash of discomfort crossing your face. You hadn’t exactly planned on this conversation. The night had been quiet for you, spent in a dazed attempt to avoid the things swirling in your head. But Cassie had clearly been up to something more exciting, and there was no way she wasn’t going to talk about it now.

You sat across from her, trying to feign casualness, but the unease you felt about last night’s thoughts—about the guilt you couldn’t shake—was hard to ignore. Your fingers wrapped around the mug of coffee you’d poured for yourself, its warmth a small comfort in the still-chilly morning air.

“So, uh, how was your… night?” You asked carefully, trying to sound nonchalant. You really didn’t want to get into the subject of Cumberbatch, not now, not when you still hadn’t figured out what the hell was going on with you.

Her eyes sparkled with a mischievous grin. "Oh, it was quite something," she said with a dramatic pause, leaning in slightly, as if sharing some kind of inside joke. You raised an eyebrow, dreading the details, but bracing yourself for them nonetheless.

“I told you that waiter was cute, didn’t I?” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “And we had such a fun time talking, you know? He was so easygoing, not like those uptight types we usually meet. And then… Well, we ended up spending the night together.” She shrugged, completely unapologetic. “It just sort of happened. Nothing too dramatic. I think he’s a little younger than me, but it was fun—completely spontaneous. I don’t know, I just felt like doing something different, you know?”

You nodded, still processing her words. For a moment, you just stared at her, feeling that strange sense of disconnection. She seemed to take everything so easily, while you felt like you were being buried under a pile of guilt and confusion. You weren’t even sure what you wanted anymore—everything felt foggy.

“Wow, sounds like quite the night,” you said softly, attempting to sound encouraging without delving into the details.

“Oh, you bet,” she replied with a playful smile. “I’ll tell you everything later, but not while you're giving me that look.” She winked at you, obviously seeing through the facade you were trying to maintain.

You swallowed hard, a sharp pang of self-consciousness running through you. You hadn’t exactly expected to be interrogated about her night with the waiter, but the more she talked about it, the more it reminded you of how distracted you had been with your own thoughts. Thoughts you couldn’t even fully acknowledge yet.

You bit your lip, trying to keep your focus on Cassie words and not on the uncomfortable knot forming in your stomach.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” she said, catching your glance. “You’re making it sound like I did something bad. We’re adults, you know.”

It wasn’t that you judged her at all—really, it wasn’t. But there was something about the way she was so carefree that made you feel even more self-conscious about your own internal battle. You suddenly felt so small, so inwardly conflicted. There you were, stuck on a man you couldn’t have, with thoughts you couldn’t control, and all she seemed to care about was whether her spontaneous hookup had been fun or not.

You shifted in your chair, trying to focus on your coffee, as if it could provide some kind of escape.

“Yeah,” you said, forcing a small, half-hearted laugh. “You always know how to have fun.”

“Of course I do,” she replied, her grin widening. “You know me.” She paused, studying you for a moment, her expression softening slightly. “But, you are okay, right? You’ve been a little... off lately. You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you.”

You hesitated, looking down at your coffee. You wanted to tell her everything—how you couldn’t stop thinking about the professor, how the thought of him made you feel weird, like you were betraying some unspoken rule. But no, you couldn’t. Not yet. Not when you still didn’t understand what was happening to you.

You forced a smile, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt. “I’m fine,” you said quickly. “Just tired, I guess. Nothing to worry about.”

She didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she didn’t press you any further. Instead, she shifted in her seat and grabbed her phone, distracted by a new message.

“Anyway, I think I’m going to see him again,” she said breezily, glancing down at her screen. “Maybe we can all go out next week. You in?”

You nodded absentmindedly, lost in your own thoughts again. The idea of hanging out with her and the waiter seemed like a distant thought now—almost too simple, too light-hearted for what you were feeling. The weight of everything you couldn’t say pressed down on you.

“Sure,” you managed, your voice quiet, far from the enthusiasm you were trying to fake.

You couldn’t bring yourself to ask about the details of her night any more than she had pried into yours. And for the rest of the morning, you sat quietly, trying to pretend that everything was just as it had always been.

But in your mind, all you could think about was the crushing, relentless feeling of wanting something you couldn’t have, something that you knew, deep down, would only complicate things further.

And you weren’t ready to deal with that.

#bbc sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #benedict cumberbatch smut #benedict cumberbatch x reader #sherlock #sherlock fandom

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sscrambledmeggss · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 4,520 times in 2022

That's 800 more posts than 2021!

460 posts created (10%)

4,060 posts reblogged (90%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@tthankstoyou

@rinezha

@ultravioletmorning--light

@simplysebastian

@thomas-the-goat-of-satan

I tagged 2,382 of my posts in 2022

Only 47% of my posts had no tags

#kurt hummel - 316 posts

#meg’s incoherent thoughts - 299 posts

#sebastian smythe - 256 posts

#kurtbastian - 233 posts

#ana kardashian - 151 posts

#glee - 120 posts

#ratbastian - 104 posts

#taylor swift - 99 posts

#rachel berry - 72 posts

#the raven cycle - 66 posts

Longest Tag: 142 characters

#depends on who you ask tbh 😭😭 but it’s one of those djdjd probably more likely kill 🤨 because i feel like i’d be easy to beat in a fight 🕺

My Top Posts in 2022:

quick question glee made up kurts eye colour? I have been gaslighted

YES, the glee fandom just randomly made it up 😭 I think the Sherlock fandom might have also helped? I also thought it was real until @dilfdarren said something about it being fake. So thus the origin search for the word began 🗽

When searching for the origin:

1) the only thing about ‘glasz origin’ when searching that doesn’t autocorrect to ‘glass’ is an urban dictionary entry:

Safe to say it didn’t lead to much 🤨

2) when searching ‘glasz eyes’ you DO get eye pictures, but most of the people are Chris Colfer and Benedict Cumberbatch. (And a Percy Jackson character, but her eyes were never described as glasz in the books).

3) I started googling it as a last name meaning but still didn’t find anything.

4) FINALLY I came across this beautiful thing: The Etymology of Kurt Hummel’s Eyes

It definitely cleared a lot of things up 😭

Though this still didn’t answer why it’s spelling was ‘glasz’, so then I realized, “hey wait, if anyone would know this, tumblr would’ and it did. So I didn’t have to search for like two hours, but what can you do </3

anyways this post explains the reason for them turning it into the Hungarian spelling and not just the Welsh one.

But throughout all of this, a lot of the stuff I got was things like, “guys, I have glasz eyes!!” On Reddit and quora, and people on tumblr telling people they have glasz eyes etc etc. so it seems to have gotten out of the glee and Sherlock fandom, as it’s been used in other fics and fandoms and with real people as well. 😭

Anyways I’m sorry for making this answer so long, but thank you for listening to my deep dive <3

81 notes - Posted April 28, 2022

Emma Woodhouse really was the first gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss wasn’t she 🤨

85 notes - Posted February 17, 2022

Do you think, Hugh Jackman stays up late at night crying over the fact that Kurt Hummel absolutely obliterated him with his NTBND cover

96 notes - Posted August 5, 2022

Sebastian after him and Kurt fight at the Lima Bean:

Sebastian: Something lgbt just happened to me

99 notes - Posted May 3, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Hc that every time Sebastian tries flirting with Kurt it just goes horribly wrong, like he goes,

“hey, you look pretty today ��” but as he walks away he slams into a glass sliding door

104 notes - Posted May 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Cherie and Ana being in my top tags LOL as they should be 🕺#This is so fun :D #I’m so surprised about the Emma woodhouse post being a top post because it really got zero notes when I first posted it for like months 😭

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resowrites · 2 years ago

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Sherlock Holmes: The Winding Sheet Part 1

Summary: Amelia Bainbridge is urgently seeking the assistance of Mr. Sherlock Holmes, so that she might finally understand what caused her brothers mysterious death six months ago. At first the facts are scant and Mr. Holmes dismisses the case as unworthy of his time. But then Amelia mentions a curious detail and suddenly, the game is afoot…

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (I envisioned Henry’s version but the story could apply to Rathbone right through to Cumberbatch), OC!Amelia Bainbridge, Mrs. Hudson, OC characters.

Warnings: adult/dark themes such as murder, occasional threat of violence/danger, some period misogyny, angsty, mentions of sickness and death, lightly beta’d.

WC: 2190

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! No copyright infringement intended, gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Links to next parts: Part 2, Part 3

Part 1

Amelia Bainbridge hesitated as she stood on the edge of the pavement. Across the street was the infamous black door, its lunette window revealing a soft orange light. Although the street was mostly bare this early in the morning, the market sellers and other tradesmen not yet filling the road, Amelia knew she couldn't simply keep standing there. She slowly made her way across, dodging the piles of uncleared horse manure and potholes, and dashed up the steps. The knocker was stiff in its hanger but she gave a couple of extra knocks, just to be on the safe side. A short, elderly woman with snow white hair answered the door. "Yes? May I help you?" She eyed Amelia carefully, though she didn't seem entirely surprised by her presence.

"Yes... good morning, I have an appointment with Mr. Sherlock Holmes. My name is Miss Bainbridge. I was supposed to meet him later this morning... but, circumstances dictated I come earlier." Amelia swallowed and smiled hopefully. The elderly woman just turned and invited her into the hallway. She motioned for Amelia's wrap and cane, then asked her to wait. She hobbled up the hallway stairs and out of sight. Amelia looked around her. Considering this was meant to be the abode of a world famous detective, the walls were rather old and nondescript, the tobacco stains and faded pictures being the most notable features.

Eventually, she heard a voice from the top of the staircase. "Mr. Holmes will see you now..." the old woman didn't descend the stairs nor stoop to make sure she was properly seen and heard. But she followed her voice up onto the first floor landing and into a largeish morning room. "A Miss Bainbridge for you sir..." the old woman then stepped to the side, nodded her head, and departed. He was seated in a wingback armchair by the biggest window in the room. Smoke curled out from his pipe as he held up a large newspaper. He eventually glanced over to her and nodded for her to take a seat in front of him. Amelia crossed the room slowly, taking in the large, intimidating form in front of her. Even seated, he was obviously well over six feet. His long brown curls framed an angular jaw and piercing dark eyes. He would most certainly be described as handsome, even if his reputation for having a brusque and ungentlemanly manner preceded him.

"Good morning Miss Bainbridge, please, won't you be seated." He glanced at her quickly before placing his newspaper and pipe to one side. Amelia perched on the edge of the smaller chair opposite him, curling back the veil of her hat but refusing to take off either it or her gloves. Instead, she kept her trembling hands in her lap and avoided all urges to fidget with the seams of her gloves as was her custom. "I see you have arrived earlier than expected, do I take it then, that you visit me on a most urgent matter?" She could barely look into his probing eyes. She certainly felt attracted to him, though at that moment she would say she felt more frightened than anything else.

"That's correct Mr. Holmes... I... in truth, I hardly know where to begin." He smiled tightly and clasped his hands on the edge of his knee.

"One can only start at the beginning, and I would say that as you have hurried here so quickly your gloves are inside out and your hat and waistcoat improperly fastened, you have more than enough time to tell me your story. When you are ready, Miss Bainbridge." Amelia was waiting to be summarily exposed, she'd heard the accounts of his other clients and though she hardly felt put at ease, she supposed the sooner she told her tale the better.

"Well... it all started some six months back. My older brother, Jack, had returned from Europe and was about to start work at an accounting firm. Perhaps I should go back a little further..." her voice trailed off and she didn't dare look back up at him. "My brother and I were born and raised on a small estate on the edges of Hertfordshire. Our father died young and our mother remarried some years later to an importer named Edwin Thomas. He's a cold, calculating man. Though he made sure my poor mother signed over the deeds to the estate, she also stipulated that once my brother married, it was to be returned to him. Then, just months after he became engaged, he was struck down by a mysterious illness and died in the night. The autopsy was inconclusive but found no evidence of foul play. However, I don't believe for a minute that my stepfather wasn't somehow involved..." Amelia took a deep breath, it was the most she'd ever spoken in recent years. Mr. Thomas wasn't a fan of female frivolity.

"And why do you suppose this? Were you present at the time of his death?" Amelia tried to swallow back tears, she had to stay calm and focused. And she hardly believed Mr. Holmes would be any more tolerant of female weakness than her stepfather.

"My stepfather allowed me to see him one last time before his body was collected later the same morning. As far as I could see, his bedroom was undisturbed. The windows were all locked shut, his clothes were hung over the chair by his desk as normal..." Amelia had to stop for a few moments to collect herself. "He always slept with the door locked, it was only when our maid couldn't wake him the next morning that they used the spare key. It was an otherwise normal scene..." She stopped for a moment, wondering perhaps if there had been any other details she’d missed. If there were, they'd been extremely subtle. Mr. Holmes simply sat with his lips pursed, a look of deep concentration on his face. Finally, he spoke.

"And you're sure your stepfather would not have had another key? Such copies are easily made." Amelia couldn't answer this specific question, though she was certain no one else had been in his room overnight.

"I'm afraid I wouldn't know what keys are in my stepfather's possession, but my brother's room is directly across from my own. I'm a light sleeper and would have heard someone creeping across the landing. I don't believe anyone visited him in the night." She could have sworn something flashed across Mr. Holme's eyes.

"Then what do you supposed happened Miss. Bainbridge... young men rarely just die. I assume he was in normal health? What about the possibility of a gas leak? Such an event kills quickly and quietly..." Amelia shook her head vigorously.

"All the pipes leading to and from the room were checked... besides, I imagine I too would have been affected being so close..." Mr. Holmes nodded in approval, glad to see she had at least some reasoning ability.

"What were his habits in the evening, did he drink heavily? Read a lot perhaps?" Amelia thought for a moment.

"No, my brother despised drink... he also never smoked or even played cards. He did read at his desk, though not for too long, he had a deathly fear of falling asleep and the candles catching fire..." an idea then entered his mind but he put it aside for one moment.

"Then why assume his death had anything to do with your stepfather? Did he show any particular animosity towards your brother?" Amelia began fiddling with her gloves now, she didn't understand why she was being cross examined if she'd done nothing wrong.

"I know he didn't want the estate to return to my brother... why else would he have stuck around after my Mother's death?" She hoped this would satisfy him but instead, the questioning continued.

"Perhaps he felt a familial responsibility... tell me, did he receive any money upon your mother's death?" Amelia was happy to be able to answer this question definitively.

"He was given a small stipend, on the condition that he continued to look after the state in my brother's absence. The rest goes towards our allowances... my allowance, I mean." Mr. Holmes screwed up his eyes.

"Well then there you have it Miss Bainbridge... he was hardly in a position to leave the estate if he had been instructed to manage it." He sniffed and picked up his newspaper again, their meeting seemingly over.

"Oh Mr. Holmes, you don't understand, my brother returned early, so my stepfather did not need to stay. He also tried to dissuade him from marriage... we even found an article in the local paper several weeks later that besmirched his fiance's good name. Who else could have arranged for such a thing? I know the evidence is scant Mr. Holmes, but you haven't met the man... I'm sure you would feel differently if you did." He sighed and folded up his newspaper for good, clearly, he wasn't going to be permitted the chance to read it.

"Miss Bainbridge... a feeling is simply not enough to determine the merits of a case. From the facts you have presented to me... it seems your brother likely died of natural causes, as unfortunate as that outcome may be." But Amelia wasn't prepared to back down.

"Please listen, Mr. Holmes, my stepfather has requested I now sleep in the same room. I was away with friends for several weeks, I refuse to spend much time in that house anymore. But upon my return, I was told the entire left hand side of the top floor had flooded due to a leak in the roof. He's locked my bedroom and all other rooms on that side so I can't even check for myself. I requested to sleep downstairs but there's been a spate of burglaries in the area recently and my stepfather has forbidden it. I won't even be able to defend myself in such a room, the windows are permanently locked, a fault that my stepfather has also neglected to fix though they didn't have such a fault when we were younger. I believe he purposefully tampered with the windows as well." She looked at him seriously and for once, his expression seemed concerned.

"And you're sure you have no other means of ventilating the room?" Amelia shook her head and hoped he would now agree to take on her case.

"Well Miss Bainbridge, I admit your circumstances are unusual and if your stepfather's intent is indeed murderous, it matters not whether his first attempt is unsuccessful, especially if you say there was no evidence of his room being entered in the night. Perhaps a visit might behoove us... am I free to attend later today?" Amelia grinned from ear to ear.

"Yes... he's away on business until this evening, we'll be undisturbed, of that I'm sure." Mr. Holmes nodded and rose quickly to his feet.

"Very well... head back now and I shall follow shortly, I still have some business in town I must attend to first. Good morning Miss Bainbridge." He nodded politely and waved towards the door. It was an abrupt end to one of the more strange meetings of her life, but Amelia felt great anticipation at finally being able to put the matter to rest. She hurried out of the house and into a waiting cab, ostensibly on her way back to the train station. Mr. Holmes observed her casually from the window. She couldn't have been more than five and twenty but she had an easy if slightly nervous manner. She was also delightful on the eye. He refilled his pipe and returned to his chair. The truth was he had little business that morning. Mrs. Hudson took care of most of his affairs and with Dr. Watson away on sabbatical, he had more time on his hands than usual. Though the facts were scant, he had to admit the brother's death was strange if no obvious cause had been found at the autopsy and there was also no evidence of foul play. The most alarming point in his mind was the locked windows... why would these need to be permanently sealed? If the brother needed to escape, he would have been unlikely to jump or climb down the facade from the first floor anyway. At that moment Mrs. Hudson disturbed his train of thought.

"Some tea for you sir... I see you already have the morning paper but I've also bought you the financial times and a letter from Dr. Watson." She placed everything down on a small console beside him and stood to straighten her dress. She was getting on in years and couldn't keep climbing the stairs so often. "Would you like your breakfast now or later?" Mr. Holmes got to his feet, ignoring both the tea and paper, and shoved Dr. Watson's letter quickly into his jacket pocket.

"No breakfast for me Mrs. Hudson... I have an errand to run." He pecked her on the cheek briefly before striding out of the room and down the stairs.

A/N: Hi guys, as a huge Sherlock Holmes fan of both the original stories and the many series/films, it’s my pleasure to present this new short series. Any feedback is appreciated and Part 2 will be out next Wednesday at 6pm EST - so I hope you’ll continue to stick around and enjoy more to come!

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

#henry cavill #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #sherlock fandom #henry cavill fics

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inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years ago

Note

Do you have any fic recs of Sherlock being soft for John and John only.

Hey Nonny!

Ahhhhhhhh your request had me thinking that yes I do, and I did tag a few fics with “soft Sherlock”, but I’ve never started a list, so here ya go!

SOFT SHERLOCK

See also: Sherlock Soft With Children

Soft. Happy. Content. by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 223 w., 1 Ch. || Sleepy Cuddles, Bed Sharing, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Spooning, Morning After, Sherlock POV) – Sherlock reflects on his state of mind. Part 6 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

A Perfect Figure by ecb327 (K, 622 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, First Person POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Introspection, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Light Angst) – Sherlock build a spot in his mind palace for John.

I Knew You Loved Me by inevitably_johnlocked (T, 743 w., 1 Ch. || Morning Cuddles, Fluff, Clingy Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slice of Life, Morning After, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Declarations of Love, Pet Name, Bed Sharing, Snuggles) – John and Sherlock share a lie-in the morning after their first time. So fluffy and gross your teeth will fall out. Part 4 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Peacock by ClassyGirlsWearPearls (T, 1,189 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Cranky Sherlock, Soft John, Hand Holding, Soft Sherlock) – A study in Sherlock and John.

Mizzle by MrsNoggin (K, 1,233 w., 1 Ch || Friendship, Fluff, Platonic Johnlock, Humour, Slice of Life) – John can't decide if it's raining or not. Sherlock doesn't understand.

And, Usually, He's the One Who GIVES Me a Headache by Cumberbatch Critter (T, 1,315 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, POV John, Cranky John, Headaches, Head Massage) – A migraine is never fun.

Together is What we Have, Together Protects Us by Phantom of the Black Pearl (K+, 1,566 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Friendship / Platonic or Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Sherlock, Worried Sherlock, Slice of Life) – After a case one evening in the flat Sherlock voices a concern that causes the pair to consider why they've chosen to stick together after all that's happened

Here to Stay by MockJayPhoenix12 (K, 1,574 w., 1 Ch. || Post Reunion, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Headache, Bed Sharing, Care Taker Sherlock, Hand Holding, Fluff) – On Sherlock's first day home, John wakes with a migraine.

Evermore by SosoHolmesWatson (G, 2,068 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4, 5-Year-Old Rosie, Love Confessions, Song Fic, Parentlock, Oblivious John, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Disney Songs, Beauty and the Beast) – For the past years, John and Sherlock have lived at Baker Street again, raising Rosie together--as friends and nothing more. Ever since the little girl has watched her first Disney movie, she is obsessed with princesses. When John comes home one day, he finds his friend and his daughter in the middle of a reenactment of her current favourite. Part 1 of Made of Music

Let the Sun Fade Out by nothingislittle (E, 2,711 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff & Smut, Praise Kink, PWP, Obsessed Sherlock, Bottomlock, Heart-Tearing Love) – "He could warm the sun itself, Sherlock thinks, could heat their flat with just his presence, could brighten the room with one dazzling smile or just the sparkling in his eyes. John is everything, he’s beautiful and he shines, he’s everything."

Unquantifiable by 221b_hound (M, 2,799 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Sherlock/Sally Friendship, Grumpy John, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Pet Names, Texting, Sweet Sherlock, Princess Bride References) – John remains a terrible and foul-tempered patient, but he does try to make up for it with pet names and text message silliness. In the meantime, Sally Donovan visits Baker Street for a hint about the Milverton case, and has to deal with a Sherlock Holmes who can't find words big enough to thank her for saving John's life at the warehouse. For afters, there's a viewing of The Princess Bride. Part 33 of the Unkissed series

Pillow Talk by 221b_hound (E, 2,925 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, Est. Rel., Preening Sherlock, Limpet Sherlock, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Sex on Furniture, Scent Kink, Masturbation, Fluff, Soft Sherlock, Sherlock’s Bum) – John gets home late from work and Sherlock is nowhere to be seen. John walks through the flat, distracted by memories of all the excellent sex they've been having, and finally finds Sherlock asleep in the upstairs room - apparently having fallen asleep mid-wank while inhaling the scent of John's pillow. Well, you should always finish what you start, John thinks... Part 3 of Lock and Key

The General Idea by agirlsname (T, 3,022 w., 1 Ch. || Retirement, Promise of Forever / Proposal, POV John, First Kiss, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Soft Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Crying / Emotional Sherlock, Love Confessions) – After twenty years of friendship, John is used to Sherlock acting weirdly. But the news Sherlock finally brings himself to deliver change the carefully built dynamics between them, and John realises it's time to act.

Affirmation by jamlockk (E, 3,096 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Dev. Rel., PWP, Love Declarations, Emotional/Overwhelmed Sherlock, Comforting/Caring John, Gross Fluff) – "Sunlight dappled John's skin, casting a glow across his spreadeagled form as he dozed among the rumpled sheets. Sherlock knew the expression on his face was hopelessly soft but for once did not care about showing his true feelings so openly. He simply stood there, in the doorway, gazing at the impossibly beautiful man currently snuffling softly in his slumber." Part 8 of All the ways we love

Untouched by KittieHill (E, 3,239 w., 1 Ch. || Kissing, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock, Body Worship, Sherlock’s Scars Mentioned, Masturbation, PWP, Rimming, Multiple Orgasms) – Sherlock leaked a lot. John had never needed lubricant. John loved watching it, had once spent an entire afternoon edging Sherlock so he could watch as the thick precome drip, drip, dripped onto Sherlock's belly.

Morning Sunlight by slashscribe (E, 3,565 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Morning Sex, Fluff, PWP, Established Rel., Soft Idiots) – A thin band of soft morning light peeks between the curtains and stretches across John’s torso, laying dormant across his forearm, dipping into the space between his arm and his chest, illuminating his right nipple but just brushing the edge of his left, disappearing into his armpit, and reappearing again right over Sherlock’s eyes where his head rests, nestled against John’s shoulder. Sherlock is not annoyed by the light’s intrusion on his sleep, not when it rests so soft and tantalizing on John’s skin, a work of unintentionally erotic art. A PWP with so much emotion.

Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series

Date Night by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 4,451 w., 1 Ch. || Anxious / Worried Sherlock, Caring John, Schmoopy Fluff, Fidget Cube, Baking / Cooking, Date Night, Established Relationship, POV Sherlock Holmes, Understanding John, Grumpy Sherlock, John’s Bum, Kisses, Hugs, Domestic Fluff, Touching, Hair Petting, Light Humour) – It's John and Sherlock's first Date Night as an official couple and Sherlock needs it to be PERFECT. Mrs Hudson helps. Part 7 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

If He Knows by shamelessmash (M, 4,513 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3 Fic, Pining Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Angst, First Person Sherlock POV, Texting, Internal Monologue, Blanket Forts) – I imagine mornings: John handing me a cup of tea, hair sticking out at odd angles. How he would bend down to kiss me, smiling fondly as he pulls away. The way his skin crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the way his skin looks in the morning light. The soft sigh as he sits in his chair with the morning paper, the way his toes curl in the carpet, the way he rolls his shoulders before sinking deeper into his seat. I watch him, how he is when he is content, as it should be. As he deserves. Happy. With me.

all things warm and tender by darcylindbergh (E, 5,177 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Romantic Fluff, Rimming/Anal/BJ’s, Body Worship) – Grinning and giggling, John slides back down under the sheet and pulls it over his head. He finds Sherlock waiting for him, eyes bright and hair wild, the firelight bleeding through the thin fabric, colouring everything in soft peach and topaz, and in that moment he is so suddenly, unexpectedly, ethereally beautiful that John forgets how to breathe.

Pillow Talk by scullyseviltwin (M, 5,183 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Angsty Fluff, Pillow Talk, Bed Sharing, Worried John, First Time Morning After, Soft Sherlock, Sexuality Discussion, Love Confessions, Kisses and Cuddles) – John has been looking at Sherlock for ages, it feels like.

a very soft epilogue (my love) by darcylindbergh (E, 5,395 w., 3 Ch. || Retirement, Domestic Fluff, Dancing, Dogs, Grumpy Old Men) – Across the pillows, Sherlock shifts and hums, the creases of his face deepening and then smoothing before settling. John watches him wake up, his chest swelling with affection and fondness, and thinks he’ll never get tired of Sherlock in the mornings, sleepy and soft. It’s been some forty-odd years, and John hasn’t gotten tired of it yet. Part 5 of things fairy tales are made of

Naked by sussexbound (E, 6,166 w., 1 Ch. || Frottage, Fluff, Intimacy, First Time, Love Declarations, Trust) – John takes a deep breath, and then lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Sherlock, how would you feel if you were sitting out here doing one of your bloody experiments, and I just waltzed out of the loo and started fixing myself breakfast completely starkers? Hmm…? ”Sherlock’s lips inch up at the corners into a pleased hint of a smile he can’t seem to suppress. Part 2 of Intimacy

Christmas by WhimsicalEthnographies (E, 7,673 w., 1 Ch. || Worried Sherlock, PWP, Drunkeness, Christmas, Est. Relationship, Idiots So In Love) – John feels a lump rise in his throat, and it hits him, again, that this beautiful, infuriating creature is his. Completely, one-hundred percent his.

How To Give Your Boyfriend Who Doesn't Know He's Your Boyfriend the Best Valentine's Day Ever by unicornpoe (T, 9,832 w., 1 Ch. || Valentine’s Day, Fluff and Crack, Soft Sherlock, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock is pretty sure that John Watson is his boyfriend. He's also pretty sure that John doesn't know it. But with a little help from a magazine, some friends, three crepes, five dates, one awesome CD, and a stalker van, John is bound to realize just in time for Valentine's Day.

Someone I Love by hudders-and-hiddles (M, 10,002 w., 2 Ch. || Canon Compliant, HLV-Filler Fic, Pre-Slash, Jealous John, PIning Sherlock, Angst & Fluff, UST/URT, Dog Tags) – John gets married and Sherlock finds comfort in wearing John's identity tags around his wrist.

To be loved by Strange_johnlock (E, 12,436 w., 8 Ch. || Post S3, Established Relationship, First Person POV Sherlock, Pet Names, Soft Sherlock, Mild ADHD, Protective John, Captain Watson, Body Appreciation, Bottomlock, Rough Sex, Travelling for Holidays, Introspection, Sherlock Loves John So Much It Hurts) – John is so deeply integrated into the work, both as my conductor of light, and as a great shot with a vicious right hook who tackles men -and women- no matter their size all in my defense. He protects me with all he can without question, and this loyalty is surely more than I deserve. Or: Sherlock is counting his blessings.

holding steady by darcylindbergh (E, 12,724 w., 4 Ch. || Post S4, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Growing Old, Gone Fishing, Mood without Plot, Soft Sherlock, Caring Sherlock, POV John Third Person, Anxious Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Touching, Feeling Old, Sherlock Worship, Crying Sherlock, Cuddles, Comforting, Introspection, Retirement, Hand Holding, Forehead Kisses, Caring John, Bed Sharing, Emotional Love Making) – Sitting on a thick wool blanket at the end of a rickety dock side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge, a styrofoam container of wet, dark dirt between them, they’re fishing. John knows what this is about. This is about finally figuring it out.

On The Fence by BeautifulFiction (T, 13,770 w., 1 Ch. || Fencing, Case Fic, First Kiss, Insecure John, Pining John, Hug, Greg Finds Out) – The murder of the King's College fencing champion leads to revelations about Sherlock's past. Will it be the point that tips them from friends to lovers, or will they remain on the fence?

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John, Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Division by MrsNoggin (E, 19,542 w., 11 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Barista Sherlock, Clingy Sherlock, POV John, John’s Limp, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Sensuality, Touching, Virgin Sherlock, Insecure John) – John likes mysteries. And every morning he dips into the local independent coffee bar with his newspaper and ponders another... one Sherlock Holmes.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn, Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

A Quiet Life by DiscordantWords (M, 25,176 w., 6 Ch. || Post S4, Retirement, POV Sherlock, Awkwardness, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Minor Character Death, Questionable Parenting Choices, Non-Linear Narrative, 20 Year Old Rosie, Meddling Mycroft, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Angst, Sherlock Whump) – There had been three days of silence and a funeral. Sherlock had the terrible feeling that whatever happened next would depend, entirely, on him.

Deck the Halls by itsalwaysyou_jw (T, 31,018 w., 24 Ch. || Advent Fic / Multiple One-Shots, Assorted Tags) – One Johnlock ficlet for every day leading up to Christmas. Who is ready for pining, first kisses, established Johnlock, and everything in between? This collection of stand-alone ficlets will have it all.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Definitions by siennna (T, 101,528 w., 12 of ? Ch. || Dev. Rel., Pining, Fluff and Romance, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Cuddles, Girl’s Night, Texting, Virgin Sherlock, Drunk Sherlock, Background Mollstrade, Hair Petting, Laying on Lap) – Sherlock’s journey in defining his flat mate and stumbling through the muddled world of emotion. {{This feels complete; the chapter count is listed as ? but I feel like it is done}}

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #soft sherlock #Anonymous #long post

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parkers-gal · 4 years ago

Note

Reader meet Tom during a Meet and greet for the first time. She’s European (like Belgian perhaps. You can choose that) and she catches his attention. They start as close friends and whenever she gets to London, they meet up. After a while they start a relationship (can be long distance) and they just adore eachother a lot.

a good story

wc | 3k (SORRY i rly went off)

i chose france because i heard they have a bit more diversity...? i hope that makes it a bit more universal :) plsss i didn't proofread — hope u like it ! <3

—

You try to wipe the sweat off your hand for the fifth time in the last two minutes. Your pulse picks up while the line moves up again. You’ve been waiting for about an hour and a half, but you really don’t mind. Not when that mop of curls and pile of muscles is so close. Besides, you get to fangirl with the rest of the fans in line around you.

You’d been in deep conversation with a girl and her girlfriend for a good while until one of them went off to get coffee and the other asked to use the bathroom. The security guard assured them that they’d return to their exact position in line, ensuring they wouldn’t have to wait all over again. You missed them, though, because they weren’t back within seven minutes so you preoccupied yourself with the lanyard around your neck with your VIP Access pass attached to the end.

You play with the strings of the Spider-man hoodie; it’s the midtown hoodie that Peter Parker wears in the first movie. You wore it to be cute — and it is, especially with these jeans — but now you’re afraid you might die of heat exhaustion. As the security guards usher yet another fan through the curtains, your feet move forward a couple of feet until the movement stops and you’re stuck waiting again.

The girl and her girlfriend return not a minute later, one of them offering you a bite of their croissants from Starbucks. You ponder the offer before politely declining; you don’t want your breath to smell, or something to get stuck in your teeth. You know you’re overthinking this entire situation, but you can’t help but be nervous when you’re about to meet the one person you’ve spent so much of your time gawking over — and through a screen, at that. It’s pathetic, you admit, but you can’t help it. There’s just something about him.

Another fan goes through the curtains and suddenly you’re less than five turns away from meeting the beloved Brit. You can’t help but feel a little more connected to him, knowing that you’d flown all the way from Paris, France for this London Meet-and-Greet. It’s a wonder how you got your schedule to work so well.

You move forward another spot, tapping your index and middle fingers on your hip while tracing the lines of the tiled floor. You try to distract yourself — counting every prime number you can think of, naming all the superheroes in the Marvel Franchise — until you’re one spot away from going through the black curtains.

“You’ll be in in less than three minutes,” the girl smiles while informing you of the estimated time frame. You thank her, taking note of the tag attached to her uniform.

You take a deep breath, shaking away all nerves and last jitters before wiping your hands one last fateful time. And then all at once, the curtain opens and allows you to step through and into the room where a young actor awaits your arrival. It’s so surreal that you have to watch your feet to ensure they don’t trip and cause you to stumble.

“Hello, love. How’re you?”

Your breath hitches and when he finally takes a good look at you, his breath does too. Your eyes lock for a beat, the two of you lost in a trance before you finally spit out a response.

“I’m… really good. How’re you?”

He smiles, eyes crinkling and face lifting up. “I’m great, thank you.”

You nod, the tip of your tongue playing with your front tooth. You shake out of it, though, setting your bag and your lanyard down on the provided table before stepping a little closer to him.

“Ah, the Midtown hoodie,” He points out, holding your wrists out so he can examine the sweatshirt himself.

“Yeah,” you smile bashfully. “It’s… stylish.”

He laughs wholeheartedly, something that eats away at your shell and causes you to join his chuckling.

“What’s your name, darling?”

You bite your lip, inhaling sharply at the term of endearment. “Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tom,” he offers a hand, something that makes your face scrunch up with a laugh.

“Can we hug instead?”

“Please?” He insists, realizing how embarrassing his last move was. The two of you embrace strongly, and you inhale the scent of Tom Holland while you can.

When you separate, you grow a little more courage, and pick up the conversation. “I loved you in The Impossibly. Obviously in the Spider-man movies, too, but your other movies are really good, too.”

“Thank you, love. That means a lot,” he scratches his neck with a sheepish smile, a blush rising from his neck and onto his cheeks. He smiles, an action you mirror. “Is this your first Meet-and-Greet?”

You nod, “Yeah, I’m a bit nervous.”

He nods in understanding. “Are you from England?”

You shake your head, “I’m currently living in Paris.”

“Ah, the country of romance,” He looks as if he’s thinking of what to say next — as if he shouldn’t say it. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” You smile again, and the glint in Tom’s eye changes just a shade, as if he’s just unlocked a new level. He looks excited for a different reason now.

“How long are you staying in England?”

“Till the end of the week,” You can’t help but feel giddy because it’s only Monday, which means you have until Saturday night to explore the great country of Britain, home to Tom Holland and Tom Hiddleston and Benedict Cumberbatch and basically every celebrity you’ve ever been a fan of. You can’t anticipate what Tom’s to say next, because you don’t want to turn your experience into a Wattpad story, but you hope he’s about to offer something in relation to sightseeing.

“Would you want to… could I show you around? Show you all the best places?” He looks shyer than you, almost, and you swallow your heart so you can answer calmly.

“You’d do that?’

“Of course,” He smiles softly. “You look like a lot of fun.”

You’re taken aback at the compliment, and you stumble out a reply as best you can. The two of you are reminded to take the picture so the line can move forward again, and you will yourself not to frown at the coming end of your encounter with the famous Brit.

“Could we do this?” You show him a picture from your phone and he nods excitedly.

The two of you link hands, standing close together while you smile into the camera. Your encounter comes to an end, and though you’re disappointed, Tom asks for your number, giving you his phone for the occasion. You’re giddy as you wave goodbye, leaving the tent with your picture and his lingering energy.

A day passes, giving you time to recover from your celebrity-interaction and time to get settled into your comforting hotel room on the seventh floor. You’re a bit wary that Tom won’t ever text you, and seeing as you don’t have his number, you realize you have to wait it out. You don’t want to risk waiting for the entirety of your stay here, though, so you grow worried. But alas, Tom texts late on Tuesday night, apologizing for the radio silence that came when he had to finish up the Meet-and-Greet event. You’re relieved, to say the least.

He exchanges details, telling you to meet him at a corner cafe at ten in the morning tomorrow. You comply, promising to get a good night’s rest before saying your goodnights and sleeping the hours away. You’re promptly awoke but your eight-thirty alarm. With a groan, you get up to shower, and the cold water wakes you right up.

An hour later and you’re ready for some quality, top-notch sightseeing. You grab what you need, locking your hotel room door before going down the elevator with a sweet elderly couple. You follow the map on your phone until you arrive at a small shop on the corner, just as Tom had said. You pull the door open, the smell of coffee beans entering your airways. You exhale the familiarity of it all, smiling to yourself before searching the shop. You spot Tom in a corner booth, and as you make your way over, he sets his phone face-down on the table with a smile, waving at you. You take a seat across from him.

“This place is cute.”

“Right? Best tea in London.”

Your stomach grumbles, loud enough for the both of you to hear and then share a laugh about. “I suppose I should eat breakfast.”

“I suppose I should join you,” he replies in the same tone, the two of you sharing tender smiles before someone comes over to take your order.

The conversation picks up and all tension and awkwardness wafts away in the air, leaving you in Tom’s comfortable aura. You talk until the check is paid, and as you step out on the crisp air of the city’s streets, you turn to Tom for the agenda.

The day goes on like that. The two of you go all around the city, visiting The British Museum, the Tower Bridge, Big Ben the clock tower, the Buckingham Palace, the Portobello Road Market, the National Gallery, and even the London eye. Tom knows everything like the back of his hand, and the ancient city makes you feel so significant. Your last stop is Cambridge University, something you’ve always wanted to see in person.

Tom’s been taking your picture all day. On polaroids, your iPhones, and even some of the tourist-profiting workers who beg for sales. He claims it’s so you can start scrapbooking, a conversation the two of you had covered during your many word exchanges.

The two of you have been all over the city since the end of breakfast at almost eleven o’clock. Now, it’s almost eight o’clock and you’re hungry as fuck. After some debate, the two of you decide to take a big red bus back to your hotel for some room service or hotel-restaurant food.

Tom sits in the seat beside you on the bus, the two of you up top and enjoying the city. You get lost in conversation again, the two of you going through today’s latest pictures and video-memories. You end up goofing off, so much so that you almost miss your stop.

The two of you stumble to the entrance of your hotel. Tom smiles, grabbing the door for you. You reply with a sheepish “thank you,” before waving hello to the front desk women.

“Do you want room service or do you want to dine in the restaurant?”

“Would you mind if I joined you for room service?”

You shake your head with a gentle smile, the two of you racing to the elevators. After hitting your floor number, the elevator goes up and the two of you talk again and again. Tom excuses himself to the bathroom when you get into your room; it gives you the opportunity to change out of your clothes and into a pair of sweats and a loose tank. Tom comes out ready for room service but is grown flustered at the sight of a different outfit on you.

“Getting comfortable?”

“Duh,” you lean back on the queen sized bed, back hitting the headboard. “Stay for a movie?”

He smiles, “Hand me the menu.”

He ends up staying until ten o’clock. You promise to go clubbing with him, for a full London experience, and the two of you schedule to do just that on Friday night. You book the entirety of Thursday to finish your sightseeing with him, and before you know it, you’re spending every day in London with Tom.

On your last day, Saturday, you eat breakfast with him at that first fateful cafe. He tells you he can’t take you to the airport — he’d probably get mobbed by fans — and you understand, promising to call him once you land. He promises to come with you to France one day, so the roles can reverse.

You finish your final cup of coffee just as Tom finishes his tea. He smiles sadly, one you mirror.

“I’ll see you soon, you know. And you can still drop me off at the airport.”

“I know,” he smiles sheepishly, hand reaching across the table for yours. “But I’ll miss sightseeing with you. I forget how amazing my own country is, sometimes.”

“Well,” you smile, “I’ll be back, so don’t worry too much, Tom. It’s not like I’m going across the world.”

“Yeah,” He chuckles, “And besides, I can come see you sometime.”

“Absolutely.”

“It’s just so weird to have friends in France and shit,” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Like you live there and I can just go and visit you whenever.”

“I’m still a call away.”

“And thank god for that.”

You exhale after a beat of silence. “This is so fucking crazy.”

“What?”

“This. You, us hanging out. Just four days ago I was paying to see you, and now I’m having breakfast with you for the third time?”

“I promise, I’ll refund that Meet-and-Greet money.”

“Why?” You look at him quizzically and he bites his bottom lip.

“Well we’re friends, so you don’t really need to waste that money and I can get it back so-”

“Don’t,” you look up at him. “It makes for a good story.”

He nods, and after the two of you pay the check, you’re standing from the booth of the quaint little shop one final time, making your way to your door and settling in the passenger seat of Tom’s car. With your luggage in the backseat, he drives all the way to the airport, the loud sound of plane engines filling your ears. He drops you off at the terminal with a hug and a watery smile.

“See you soon!” He waves until you’re out of sight and the security guard is threatening to give him a ticket.

Half a year goes by, with quick three-day weekend trips back and forth, to London and to France even. You’ve seen Tom a total of seven times in the past six months, and you’ve grown closer than ever.

About a month goes by after your last trip, until your boss is telling you that you’re getting a week off for the upcoming paid break. You’ve already confirmed your flight and hotel plans to London, wanting to surprise Tom.

You decide to do it the night before you’re due on the airplane to the country of Brits.

You can’t help but grin at your phone, eventually laying down to sleep while you can before your early morning flight. Tom’s on your mind, in your future, and in your dreams. The last month of FaceTimes and text messages have been amazing, but unbearable because you miss his presence. The extreme amounts of flirting, however, have definitely picked up over text. Your week long trip to London marks the eighth time you’ve seen Tom since that first fateful Meet-and-Greet. You can’t help but feel like the dynamic is changing a bit, though. The two of you have upped the levels a bit, and now you’re more cuddly, more flirty, and definitely more interested.

When you land, you text Tom but frown when the usual immediate response doesn’t come. Moving past a crowd of waiting people, you head to baggage claim to get your luggage. After excruciatingly lifting it off of the conveyor belt, it lands with a thud on the ground and you start wheeling it towards the exit.

The building is extremely less crowded thanks to your early flight booking. When you look up, you see that familiar head of precious brown locks, and you squeal. Tom never leaves the car when picking you up or dropping you off at the airport, for fear of paparazzi and fans catching him. But this time, he’s out and in the building to come get you.

Abandoning your luggage, you drop your carry-on on the floor as you run over to him as fast as you can. He can sense you’re about to jump into his embrace, so he prepares for the bone-crushing hug.

Your arms go around his neck while his hands settle on your waist. He smiles, chin settled in the crook of your neck while he inhales the scent of you.

“Tommy, oh my god. I missed you so much.”

When you pull apart, you’re each a jumbled mess of excitement and tears, so much so that when Tom’s hands grip your face to pull you in to a passionate kiss, you’re immediately calmed. Though you’ve never kissed before, it feels so right.

Your lips chase after his, deepening it as your hands go to his hair and his to the small of your back. When you separate, your foreheads lean against each other while you pant.

“That’s new.”

“Sorry, I should’ve asked.”

You chuckle, “I would’ve said yes.”

He interlocks your fingers, smiling. “I missed you.”

“I missed you more.”

Suddenly, he’s reminded of the fact that the two of you are in public, and when he looks up, he sees a group of girls holding their phones up and capturing the moment he’s just shared with you. Quickly, he pulls you into his chest protectively, hiding your face in your neck.

“We need to hide or else they’re gonna know it’s m-”

“Don’t,” you settle him. “It makes for a good story.”

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justthehiddleswrites · 4 years ago

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Anesthesia | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary: Tom suffers a serious car accident and the reader is the nurse on duty in the ER. Tom and anesthesia don't mix and Tom acts very out of character. Can Tom regain his composure or will he continue to shamelessly flirt with the reader? And is Benedict going to work all of this to his advantage?

Warnings: Car Accidents, Hospitals, Anesthesia Makes people act crazy, Tom quoting Shakespeare

“Tom?”

Tom’s eyes fluttered, and he blinked several times, adjusting to the bright white light.

“Nurse! He is waking up!”

Nurse? Waking up? Tom reached out and cold metal hit his hands. Safety rails. The air was cool, dry, and sterile. As he attempted to sit up, he felt a cold air hit his bare back.

“Hey buddy, lie back down. You gave us quite a scare,” the familiar voice reassured him as he lowered himself back down to the bed.

Tom turned his head to the sound and once he saw Benedict’s face he smiled. Ben smiled back.

“Welcome back to Earth, Tom.”

“Thanks, what happened?”

The last thing Tom remembered was climbing into the stunt car to rehearse the big action shot. After that, it was just flashes of fire, screams and sirens.

“The brakes failed and the stunt coordinator doesn’t know what happened. But the important thing is you got out alive.”

Tom attempted to sit up again and felt winces of pain throughout his body.

“What was the damage?”

Benedict looked down.

“To you or the car?”

“The car… of course me! I feel as though a Mack truck hit me.”

“You are not far off. You broke your clavicle, wrist, and a few ribs. Um… lacerations everywhere and a… a ruptured spleen.”

Tom twisted to see his friend’s face better and felt the stitches and bandages strain. He winced at the sharp pain on his left side. Benedict hit the call button and in minutes, the nurse arrived.

She smiled as she approached the bed.

“Feeling pain?”

Tom nodded.

She looked at your chart before adding some pain meds to Tom’s IV.

“That should do. I would suggest lying down and the doctor should be in about twenty minutes.”

Tom thanked her and couldn’t help but notice her gazing over her shoulder as she left the room. Her smile barely contained her giggles. Tom’s eyes widened.

“Do they know who I am?”

Benedict averted his eyes and rose from the chair, feigning interest in the generic artwork on the wall. Tom narrowed his eyes at the clear avoidance of the question.

“What are you not telling me?”

“Oh boy, you don’t remember anything when you got here, do you?”

Tom shook his head.

“No, what happened?”

“You were in a lot of pain. Tell me have you ever been under anesthesia before?”

“Maybe, once or twice…” Tom questioned, but then he stared his friend down for answers.

“What did I say, Ben?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do. Sit down and tell me, and I will decide if you live or die.”

Dejected, Ben returned to the chair and let a sigh out.

“I’m sorry, Tom.”

Four Hours Earlier

The gurney burst through the ER doors just fifteen minutes after you started your shift. Emergency room shifts are never boring but physically and emotionally draining. You put down your cup of coffee and headed in to assess the patient.

A man lied, groaning on the gurney. His face covered in scrapes and blood staining his ginger whiskers. His left wrist sat at an unnatural angle and his shirt cut away by the paramedics to administer help.

“Car accident,” the EMT relayed, “stunt gone wrong.”

A specific hazard unique to Los Angeles. They wheeled him to the examination room and put him onto the bed with care. He wore a C-collar, but the jostling stirred the man. His eyelids fluttered open and his blue eyes work to focus on his surroundings.

“Hey…” you looked down at his chart, “Tom. How are you doing?”

“Pain.”

“I know you are in pain, but where?”

Tom gestured to the left side of his abdomen.

“Okay.” You grabbed some morphine and added it to his IV. “Any allergies?”

He shook his head.

“Anyone come with you?”

As if on cue, Benedict pulled back the curtain.

“I did.”

You recognized the man standing before you. Benedict Cumberbatch was quite the movie star.

“Really?” You attempted to keep your cool. This was no time for fan girling.

Within minutes, Benedict could communicate the information about not only the accident but Tom’s medical history as well. It had all been on file with the production company.

The doctor came in and did a quick examination.

“We need to get a CT scan and X-rays. Looks like there may be internal injuries.”

You nodded as you prepared to wheel Tom down the hall.

“Ready to go for a ride?” you asked.

Tom nodded and gave a goofy smile.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N, Y/N. That’s a beautiful name. My name is Tom Fucking Hiddleston.”

The drugs were doing their job.

“Nice to meet you, Tom. We will take you for some tests.”

“But I didn’t study!” he sounded dismayed.

You could not suppress your laugh.

“I think you will be fine.”

Tom grabbed your hand and looked up at you, tears in his eyes.

“Will you help me study?” he asked with a serious tone.

“Of course.”

Tom continued to babble on for the rest of the trip to imaging. He spoke about how nice you smelled and how pretty your eyes look. The full court press of flirting. As you reached the room, you and the other nurse lifted Tom onto the machine.

“Here you go.”

Tom grabbed your hand once again.

“Please don’t leave. I’m scared of the dark.”

While his words spoke of her fear, his eyes and smile said something else.

“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Hiddleston?”

His smile only grew.

“Is it working?”

You leaned in to his ear to whisper, “No, but the drugs are.”

Tom pouted.

“Not fair.”

“But you are cute.”

His face lit up once again.

“I came, saw and overcame.” Tom was being dramatic.

At that point, the other nurse started up the machine, and you walked away to let the rest of nurses to care for his needs. After his scans, you headed back to the waiting area. You found Benedict pacing the floor in anticipation. His long fingers alternating between steepling in front of his face and raking through his hair. As you approached, you cleared your throat.

“Yes?” his voice shared a tone of concern and hopefulness.

“A few broken bones but the big thing is that his spleen has ruptured. He needs surgery right away.”

Ben’s face fell.

“Will he be okay?”

You nodded.

“He will make a full recovery. Would you like to see him before they send him in to operating?”

You led Ben back to where they were prepping Tom for surgery. The anesthesiologist added drugs to the IV and Tom was now in a full hospital gown. His tattered rags of clothes in the garbage.

“No fair!” Tom bellowed as you entered with Ben throwing the thin sheet over his legs. The two of you shared a knowing look, “You have seen me naked but I have not had the chance to see you naked.”

You leaned into Benedict.

“It would seem that the medicine does not agree with your friend,” you smirked.

“Oh, I don’t know, I rather like him like this, so not proper. So not Tom Hiddleston.”

You smiled as you looked upon Tom who, in vain, tried to cover his body. Even loopy on drugs, he charmed and warmed your heart.

“I will leave you to it.”

As you turned to leave, Tom shouted at you.

“I love thee, Y/N. By which honor I dare not swear thou lovest me, yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, not withstanding the poor and untempering effect of visage. And therefore tell me, most fair Y/N, will you have me?”

You suppressed a small giggle.

“I will see you later,” you let them both know as you shut the door.

As soon as the door latched, Tom grabbed Benedict’s arm and pulled him down close.

“Ben! Ben! Have you met my wife?”

Benedict screwed his face up with confusion.

“The nurse? That is just the drugs talking, Tom. You barely know her.”

“Nonsense. She will be my wife and you shall be my best man.”

Benedict looked at Tom with an exasperated face but Tom’s only contained earnest. With a chuckle, Benedict conceded.

“Very well, Tom. I will be your best man.”

Tom slapped Benedict’s shoulder.

“That’s the spirit. As my best man, I require you to acquire my future bride’s number.”

Benedict could not resist at this point to play along with his friend’s drug-addled fantasy.

“I will, on one condition.”

“Name your price.”

“Name your firstborn after me.”

“Consider it done.”

“Then consider the number yours.”

Tom’s face beamed and as if on cue, the nurses came to wheel Tom into surgery.

***

“Oh dear, God. I quoted Shakespeare.”

Tom hung his head and his face and neck turned a bright shade of red.

“Yep. The Henry the Fifth wooing speech too. Honestly, it was one of your better performances. Might I suggest doing all your roles drugged from now on.”

Tom shot Benedict a withering look.

“Ha ha. Very funny. I can’t show my face to her again.”

At that moment, the door opened, and you entered. The color drained from Tom’s face, while the smile grew on Benedict’s.

“Y/N!” Benedict cooed, “We were just talking about you. So nice of you to stop in.”

Your shift ended half an hour ago, but you wanted to check in on Tom before going home. Today was not the first time a patient hit on you, although they are usually not an award-winning actor with a penchant for quoting Shakespeare. But, you would remain ever the professional. You checked the chart before wishing the two men well.

As you turned to exit, Benedict walked you out.

“Thank you, Y/N for attending to Tom.”

“My pleasure. Even under the influence, he is quite charming.”

Benedict took this opportunity.

“Speaking about that…”

3 years later

“Tom!”

You yelled down the hall of your London home, beckoning your husband. At six months pregnant, getting up and down was no easy task. Tom rushed to your side. He gave you his arm and with a rocking start; you extracted yourself from the chair.

“Thanks, darling.”

“I am at your beck and call.”

You rubbed your swollen belly as you waddled your way down the hall. Tom followed you to the kitchen.

“Now about names for this little young man here.”

Tom grew ashen. He thought he could avoid this conversation, but it seems his luck had run out.

“Yeah, I have I mentioned today that I love you.”

Tom kissed your lips, and you looked at him with distrust.

“What have you done?”

Tom smiled and rubbed his neck, a nervous habit.

“I may have promised to name the child after Benedict.”

Tom flinched.

“You what? Why on earth would you do that?”

“It was for a good cause.”

“Which was?”

“Your phone number.”

With that, Tom took off down the hallway. You smiled as you walked with much effort behind him.

“We are NOT naming our child after breakfast food!”

You heard Tom’s laughter fill the house.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff

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hyperfixation-stations · 3 years ago

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Dr Strange and the Multiverse of Madness - My thoughts and feelings

Today me and one of my friends went to go see MOM and let me tell you it was an experience. It was really interesting movie and really different from a lot of marvel movies that have come before it (a huge part of this is due to Sam Rami’s directing). Overall I thought it was really strong and it’s probably a top 10 marvel movie for me.

Below are spoilers, so if you haven’t seen the movie yet I’d skip this post.

1.) Cinematography: I’m personally a sucker for a movie with good cinematography and it’s something I typically notice in movies and pay close attention. I had feeling that with the multiverse, Strange’s, Wanda’s and America’s powers we’d get some interesting visuals and boy does that feel like an understatement. I thought that some really strong visuals were created and were like nothing we’d really seen in the MCU up until this point. Some of my personal favorites included the music fight scene, Strange and America falling through the different universes and the reflection scene. I really hope we continue to see marvel take some more creative risks like the ones we saw in this movie.

2.) The Horror Story Vibe - Going into the movie I had heard that aspects of this movie reminded people of horror films and it was probably marvels scariest movie to date. I wasn’t expecting it to be the level that it was and I wasn’t expecting to enjoy it as much as I did. There were multiple times where jump scares or some of the scenes got to me and I knew they were coming. I thought this darker tone and horror vibe worked really well for the movie and helped make it as strong as it was. I think utilizing some of those horror tropes or techniques elevated some of the scenes and added a new twist that made the scenes play out in a way different then what I was expecting.

3.) America Chavez: I was little concerned that with all of the chaos America’s introduction would get lost in the shuffle in this large scale movie, but thank god I was proved wrong. I thought they handled her introduction really well and she really held her own with characters like Strange, Wanda and Christine.

As for the actual character of America I loved her. I didn’t know too much about her going into the movies, I knew a bit from my readings of the Young Avengers comics but that was a view years ago so I was really going in blind and didn’t have strong feelings about her. I thought Xochitl Gomez it was phenomenal I’m her portrayal of the character. I also really liked her relationship with Steven and how well they played off each other. Her powers also intrigued my as for what they mean for the future of the MCU and what they can do and explore. I’m excited to see how they continue her story in the feature and it makes me cautiously optimistic that we might get a Young Avengers story as a movie or show.

4.) Stephen Strange: I’m going to be honest, I didn’t love the first Dr. Strange movie and I felt nothing but indifference for him through Infinity War and Endgame. But this movie and Spider-Man No Way Home really changed my perception of him. In the past two movies his character has seemed way more organic and natural and the writing is a lot better then what he was getting in his early movies (at least in my opinion). I was really surprised how good he was in a mentor type role. We had seen mentors appear a couple of times now with Tony and Clint and only one of those were well done (hint it’s not Tony), so I was a bit nervous about how these interactions would go and I was pleasantly surprised. They’ve developed his character where it makes sense at this point and he’s moved past some of the arrogance that would’ve caused issues had they done it earlier.

I thought that each universes Strange felt like they were connected but where different enough that they felt like individuals to that specific place. And that’s really a tribute to Benedict Cumberbatch’s acting abilities because playing similar but different versions of the same character must have it’s challenges. Strange feels like he’s going to be one of the staples of phase 4 on (like how Captain America or Iron Man wee heavy focuses of phases 1 and 2) so it’ll be interesting to see how is journey continues to play out.

5.) Wanda Maximoff (my beloved): I wish that they would stop causing Wanda so much pain, but god damn does she make an interesting villain. Wanda as villain is probably one of the best we’ve seen out of marvel in terms of execution and storylines. I thought her escalation to villain made sense (even though I wish we saw a bit more of it). She is one of my favorite characters in the MCU and I was so interested to see how they continued the story of her character.

Her arc this movie did feel like a natural progression from WandaVision, especially with the knowledge that she’d been out there for months alone with the Darkhold. Her desire to find a universe where she is a happy and she has literally anything going for her was a smart choice and an interesting concept. Wanda is the prime example of what happens when a person who’s had so much shit happen to them breaks, because that’s really what happened. She lost her parents, then Pietro, then Vision (x2), she died and came back to life only to find out he’s still dead, create a false reality out of grief, have to kill vision (for the third time) and her kids to make things right again. I mean I’m surprised she didn’t break sooner. Wanda as a character who is so interesting to me because she clearly wants to be a good person and doesn’t want to be this monster that she is often seen as, however she’s drawn to this darkness because of her circumstances and how this much loss truly changes a person. I could go on and on about Wanda and her storyline of grief and loss and how surprisingly well done it is, but I will save that for a different post.

6.) Cameos: the movie had the perfect amount of cameos imo. It would’ve been super easy to have become bogged down with them due to the nature of exploring multiple universes and I’m glad they just kept it to the Illuminati council. My personal favorites were Maria Rambou as Captain Marvel and John Krasinsksi as Richard Reid. I personally could’ve done without Captain Carter, she’s the least interesting of the Captain America/Winter Soldier’s and her prior filmography doesn’t paint in her a great light. I’m not going to lie I wasn’t upset to see her get killed off.

I really enjoyed the movie, however there were things that I would’ve liked to see/had me scratching my head

1.) Lack of mention of Pietro and Vision: I thought it was a bit odd that throughout the alternate universes we didn’t see or hear about Pietro or Vision for the most part other then a couple of throw away lines. I personally would’ve liked to see a nod or an in depth mention of them, but it wasn’t vital to the story so it’s a small complaint of mine.

2.) Was the Wanda that interacted with Professor X our actual Wanda and like her conscience because the darkhold had taken over her? Or was it that universes Wanda?

3.) What’s the purpose of Strange’s third eye? Is that a comic thing?

4.) No mention of the events of Spider-Man No Way home. I really thought given how big of an issue the multiverse opening up in that movie was that we would’ve gotten a few more mentions of the events that transpired and how it effected this movie.

I personally really enjoyed my experience with this movie, I know that some people loved it and some people hated it. I thought it everything about it was kind of a breath of fresh air from what are used to getting from marvel and I’m interested to see how the movies and shows may change stylistically going forward.

#dr stephen strange #multiverse of madness #pro wanda maximoff #wana maximoff #america chavez #multiverse of madness spoilers

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tomhiddlestonfanfic · 3 years ago

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He Loves Me Not Chapter Twenty

Ch.1 - Ch.2 - Ch.3 - Ch.4 - Ch.5 - Ch.6 - Ch.7 - Ch.8 - Ch.9 - Ch.10 - Ch.11 - Ch.12 - Ch.13 - Ch.14 - Ch.15 - Ch. 16 - Ch. 17 - Ch.18

Summary & Chapter Index

TITLE: He Loves Me Not

CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: 20/?? WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Actor Tom OTHER CHARACTERS: Benedict Cumberbatch PAIRING: Tom Hiddleston/OFC GENRE: Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance, Teen Angst, Coming of age

FIC SUMMARY: Norah is a troubled teenager who is secretly and obsessively in love with her sister Sarah’s boyfriend, Tom. Sarah constantly worries about her younger sister, who is struggling with depression and anxiety, and one night, after a long evening at a charity event, Tom decides that he has had quite enough of Norah’s at times reckless and what could be considered rather selfish behaviour. He reveals a new side of himself as he desperately tries to help Norah break her vicious circle of self-destruction and open her eyes to the beautiful things in life. Could he be Norah’s knight in shining armor? Or will his efforts prove to be all in vain? Is his mere presence actually doing more harm than good? Could he ever love her the way she loves him?

WARNINGS: This story contains potentially triggering subjects such as Depression, Anxiety, Self-Harm, Self-Destruction, Eating Disorders, Talk About Suicide and Suicidal Ideation. It also deals with the subject of Grief and contains Previous Character Deaths. Other potentially upsetting subjects this story contains are Spanking Fantasies, Sexual Fantasies, Masturbation, Dirty Talk, Age Difference and Age Play.

If you are having a hard time and think that stories containing any of those subjects might have a negative effect on your wellbeing, I advise against reading it and wish you the best of luck. Please, take care of yourself.

CHAPTER TWENTY New Friends

Norah groaned as she was roughly woken up by having a tube forced down her throat. She tried to fight the hospital staff off, but was being firmly held down as they proceeded to get the tube down. Tears ran down her face and she desperately gasped for air when throwing up the liquid being pumped into her stomach through the tube.

"Try to breathe through your nose," a female voice advised. "You're going to be alright, Norah. I know this is very unpleasant, but we're only doing this to help you."

"Norah, I'm right here." It was Sarah's voice. "I'm holding your hand," she added, giving Norah's left hand a gentle squeeze. "Try to keep calm and breathe through your nose."

Norah managed to breathe as instructed in between her violent vomiting. She cried, because she was exhausted, confused and scared, and she felt like she couldn't breathe properly. Everything seemed to hurt, especially her throat and stomach.

When the plastic tube was finally being pulled out of her throat, she took several deep breaths. Her vision was still blurred, but it had at least started to become clearer than before.

"I'm going to put an oxygen cannula in your nose. It's not going to hurt and it will provide you with the extra oxygen you need right now," a nurse explained to Norah before carefully putting it in place.

"Thanks," Norah mumbled and laid back down on the examination table. She rubbed her tired eyes and accidentally pulled off the oximeter from her right hand.

“This stays on,” the nurse from before said firmly and reattached the oximeter on Norah’s index finger. “How’s your vision?”

“It’s all blurry, but it’s a little bit better than before,” Norah replied in a hoarse voice.

“So it’s getting better then. That’s a good sign,” the nurse said in a friendly voice. “Let’s get you into a wheelchair and take you to the ward. The doctor will come see you there.”

“The ward?” Norah asked with a hint of panic in her voice. “Which ward?”

“We’ll take you to ward 80, it’s a general ward,” the nurse replied as she helped Norah get down into the wheelchair.

“I think I can walk,” Norah objected.

“Let’s not take any chances. A couple of minutes ago, you could barely breathe on your own,” the nurse said seriously.

“Really?” Norah asked and looked in Sarah’s direction. She couldn’t see her facial expression, but she could hear in her sister’s voice that she was serious.

“Your lips were blue,” Sarah confirmed. “Then you went unconscious and scared the life out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” Norah mumbled, feeling ashamed of herself for drinking so much. She put her bare arms around herself to get warmer and placed her right hand in front of the left to hide the worst scars. Tom took his jacket off and put it over Norah’s shoulders. “Thank you,” she said and smiled when Sarah put Norah’s jacket and shirt over her arms and in her lap. Norah relaxed, relieved to have her scars hidden beneath the clothes. She wasn’t used to having them out there for everyone to see.

“Let’s get you to bed,” the nurse said once they had reached the room Norah would be staying in. There were four beds in it with curtains between the beds to give the patients some privacy. One of the beds was empty and Sarah stopped the wheelchair right next to it.

“I have to use the toilet,” Norah mumbled as she stood up from the wheelchair. She grabbed the bed for support as her head was spinning.

“I’ll take you,” Sarah offered helpfully. Norah felt embarrassed but realised that she in that particular moment needed help with walking straight, so she let Sarah help her all the way to the toilet seat. “Here’s some paper,” Sarah said, handing her some toilet paper. “I’ll wait right outside. Let me know when you’re done.”

Norah emptied her bladder in what felt like ages. When she was finally done and had managed to pull her pants back up without falling she headed towards the sink and tripped over her own feet.

“Damn it, Norah. I told you to let me know when you were done,” Sarah said with a sigh and helped her little sister up from the floor.

“I misjudged the distance,” Norah mumbled as she washed her hands.

“What’s that on your top? Is it blood? Did you hurt yourself?” Sarah asked concernedly.

“Oh, that,” Norah said as she realised that she had bled through the top. “It must be blood from when I had a nosebleed.”

“When did your nose bleed?” Sarah asked.

“Before. At the party,” Norah lied.

“But that was like an hour ago. This blood is fresh,” Sarah remarked. “Did you cut yourself on your stomach?”

“It was only superficial,” Norah said quietly and crossed her arms over her stomach to hide it from Sarah.

“Let me see,” Sarah said, seemingly disappointed.

“No. I’m not showing you my fat stomach!” Norah said angrily. “Let me keep some of my dignity.”

“Fine. I won’t make you. But at least let the nurse have a look at it so she can dress the wounds properly,” Sarah told her.

“There are no wounds, just superficial scratches,” Norah insisted. “No one needs to look at it.”

“But it bled through your top,” Sarah objected.

“Scratches can bleed too, you know,” Norah told her.

“Let the nurse look at it,” Sarah kept insisting.

“Just leave me alone!” Norah told her angrily and pulled away the nose cannula that was attached to an oxygen cylinder that was sitting on the floor near the toilet. She pulled the oximeter off her index finger and was about to throw it into the wall when Sarah quickly grabbed it from her.

“You’re not throwing stuff,” Sarah said sternly as she picked up the oxygen cylinder from the floor and carried it out of the bathroom. Norah sat down on the floor, because she couldn’t keep her balance enough to get anywhere by herself.

“Come on,” Sarah said once she came back. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Norah reluctantly let her sister help her walk the way from the bathroom to the hospital bed. When in bed, the nurse grabbed a nose cannula that was attached to the wall and put it on Norah. The nurse then proceeded to put another oximeter on Norah’s left fingertip.

“Norah, it’s time for Sarah and Tom to leave now so you can get some sleep. We’ll keep you here over the night to make sure you’re safe,” the nurse said. “The doctor will talk to you in a moment.”

“Can’t I stay?” Sarah requested. “Don’t I have a right to stay since she’s underage and I’m her legal guardian?” she questioned.

“Only if Norah wants you to stay,” the nurse said and Sarah frowned.

“Really?” Sarah questioned.

“Your sister needs to rest right now. And to judge by how tired you look, so should you. Go home, get some sleep and come back tomorrow,” the nurse advised her.

“She’s right, Sarah. You need to get some rest too. Norah’s in good hands. She’ll be safe here,” Tom reasoned.

“She better be,” Sarah muttered before turning back to the nurse. “Can we at least wait until the doctor has had a look at her. I want to know for sure that she’ll be okay.”

“Fine. I suppose I would ask the same if it was someone I cared about,” the nurse agreed. Tom and Sarah sat down on two chairs, one on each side of the bed.

“How’s your vision?” Tom asked and handed Norah her phone. “You got a bunch of notifications before, so I turned the sound off.”

“Thank you,” Norah said appreciatively and tried to look at her phone screen. She could discern some letters, but they were too blurry for her to be able to read properly, even when she magnified them. “I still can’t see properly,” she said with a sigh.

“Would you like me to read for you?” Tom offered.

“Okay,” Norah agreed and handed him her phone.

“Let’s see here,” Tom said and read something on her phone. “You’ve got several friend and message requests on Facebook,” he told her.

“From who?” Norah asked curiously.

“One is from someone called Jim A Scott,” Tom said. “He’s sent a message request too.”

“Check the message.”

“It says: Hi Norah, it’s me, Andrew from the new year’s party. How are you doing?”

“Accept the request and answer that I’m alright,” Norah instructed.

Tom helped Norah go through the messages on her phone and she felt grateful for being alive as she was reminded of how many people cared about her. Most of her messages simply consisted of the sentence ‘happy new year’, but every single one of them meant the world to her at that moment. She had gotten friend requests from Will, Trevor, Amanda and Lacey from the party. They all asked how she was doing and wished her a happy new year. Norah also got messages from Riko, Joe and Lucy from their trip to the coast. She smiled as the doctor came in to see her.

“Norah Collins?” he asked, looking down at his papers.

“That would be me,” Norah replied and pulled the blanket to cover her bare scarred arms.

“I have some questions for you, and I want you to answer them honestly,” the doctor said seriously.

“Okay,” Norah mumbled.

“Would you like them to leave so we can talk in private?” the doctor asked, to Norah’s surprise.

“I’m her legal guardian,” Sarah interjected. “Don’t I have the right to know what’s going on?”

“Of course I want to talk to you too,” the doctor told Sarah. “But Norah’s nearly eighteen and should have the right to speak to me alone, if she wants to. Especially since I’ll be asking her some sensitive questions.”

“Would you like to speak to him alone?” Sarah asked Norah. “You know you don’t have to.”

“I think it might be easier for me to speak to him alone,” Norah replied, feeling empowered by being asked the question for once.

“Alright then,” Sarah said, seemingly a bit disappointed. “We’ll wait outside then.”

“Love you,” Tom said and handed Norah her phone back before quickly leaving the room with Sarah. Norah smiled at his words, knowing they were true, but not in the way she wanted them to be. He loved her like a sister, not a lover. She felt sure about that now. And for the very first time, it didn’t bother her that much. She actually felt okay with that. He did not love her in the way she wanted him to, but that was alright.

The doctor shut the door before walking up to Norah.

“Happy new year, Norah,” he said as he sat down in a chair near her bed.

“Happy new year,” Norah replied.

“I’m Darius Fereshteh and I’m a doctor,” he introduced himself. “I was told that you were not in a good state when you got here. How are you feeling now?”

“I’m very tired,” Norah said honestly, looking at his blurry face. He sounded young, she thought, wondering if he was handsome too. “And embarrassed,” she added truthfully.

“What are you embarrassed about?” he wondered, taking notes.

“I’m embarrassed about drinking too much and taking up a hospital bed at new year’s eve. I know you guys have a lot to do this time of year. I swear it wasn’t on purpose,” Norah told him apologetically.

“Don’t worry about taking up a bed, Norah. Even if the most acute phase is over, your life could still be in danger, so you need to stay over the night so we can make sure you are alright,” the doctor said. “Do you understand that you could have died from alcohol poisoning?”

“Yes, I understand,” Norah said.

“Good. How’s your vision?” the doctor asked.

“Still a bit blurry,” Norah told him with a sigh. “Will it pass?”

“I can’t promise you anything, if you’re unlucky it’s possible to go blind if you don’t watch what you drink,” the doctor said.

“But my vision has gotten clearer than it was before, that’s a good sign, right?” Norah asked, feeling genuinely worried. She had taken for granted that she would get her vision back. But what if it didn’t? “But I’m only seventeen. I can’t lose my sight already,” she objected.

“It doesn’t matter what age you are if you drink the wrong things. But it is a good sign that your vision is better now than it was before,” he told her. “Your vitals look good. I believe the stomach pumping did its job,” he added.

“It was horrible,” Norah said. “I’d rather die than-”

“Are you sure about that? Because you could have died. Would that be worth it?” the doctor questioned. “I understand that it wasn’t fun, but in your case, it actually saved your life,” he explained. “Would you really rather die than going through that again?” He didn’t really sound angry, but he was very serious as he asked Norah the questions.

“No, I wouldn’t. It’s just an expression,” Norah mumbled in response.

“That’s alright. I just want you to know how serious this is,” the doctor said. “So you didn’t drink with the intent of hurting yourself?”

“No, not really,” Norah replied.

“Did you realise that it could be dangerous to drink as much as you did, especially considering the medications you take?” the doctor asked.

“I didn’t really think about that,” Norah mumbled and looked down at her phone in her hands and thought about all the messages she had gotten and the friends she had made preceding year.

“Were you completely oblivious about the fact that it could be dangerous, or didn’t you care that it could be dangerous?” the doctor asked.

‘Bastard,’ Norah thought to herself. He had set up a trap for her, either she would admit to being stupid or she would admit to being self-destructive. She went for the honest answer. “I just wanted to have fun,” she told him.

“You don’t strike me as unintelligent. I believe you knew that it was not a good idea to mix your anxiety medication with alcohol,” the doctor said.

Norah blushed, feeling embarrassed. “It was stupid of me to drink on benzos,” she admitted.

“That’s more like it,” the doctor said and Norah was pretty sure he smiled at her. “It would offend me if you decided to pretend you were completely clueless. To judge by what I read about you in your medical record, you’re an intelligent young woman. Self-destructive and sometimes reckless, but intelligent nonetheless.”

“Why are you saying that I’m intelligent when I just did something really stupid?” Norah asked confusedly.

“Because you are intelligent, Norah Collins,” the doctor insisted. Norah could almost hear a smile in his gentle voice. “And just like every other person, intelligent or otherwise, you’re capable of making mistakes.”

“My sister is often described as intelligent, not I,” Norah said. “I’m an emotional wreck.”

“You can both be intelligent, can you not?” the doctor questioned.

“I suppose,” Norah said with a shrug. “But she’s really smart, unlike me.”

“I don’t think you’re being fair to yourself,” the doctor said. “She’s several years older than you, so of course she has more knowledge about some things than you have. But you also know things that she doesn’t know. For example, what it’s like to be you. You’re the only expert on that, which is why I wanted to talk to you alone. I want us to come to an agreement.”

“What kind of agreement?” Norah wondered sceptically, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“An agreement on how we should proceed,” the doctor said. “You will stay here tonight, that’s already decided. But what do you think should happen after that?”

“That I should go home,” Norah replied.

“Would you truly be safe if you went home tomorrow, though?” the doctor asked. “Could you guarantee that you wouldn’t do anything more self-destructive once you were back home?”

“I promise,” Norah said and pushed away the thoughts of her most recent self-injury.

“Do you always keep your promises?”

“Of course.”

“If I were to ask your sister about that, what would her answer be?” the doctor asked. Norah sighed heavily. She had lied to Sarah so much over the years. That’s why she didn’t trust her anymore. “That’s what I thought. If you don’t keep your promises to your sister, why should I believe you would keep a promise to me?”

“Come on. You’re probably overcrowded with patients right now. Why would you try to convince me to stay here? I’m taking up a bed that others need more than I do,” Norah argued.

“I’ve seen this before and sadly, those stories don’t always have happy endings. I want your story to be long enough for you to start enjoying your life. You’re much too young for a tragic ending,” the doctor said.

“So was Hamlet,” Norah mumbled.

“So you like Hamlet?” the doctor asked, seemingly pleased by what she had said. “I believe he was several years older than you are now. But you’re right, he was too young for his life to end in such a tragedy.” Norah nodded in agreement but remained silent. “Can you relate to anyone in the play?”

“I suppose I can relate to Ophelia, but I mostly relate to Hamlet,” Norah told him.

“In which ways can you relate to him?” the doctor asked curiously.

“Well, he strikes me as very ambivalent,” Norah said thoughtfully. “Like he can’t make his mind up on whether he should live or die. He has extreme mood swings and does impulsive things. And I believe he has this awareness that people might regard him as mad, and it’s almost like he embraces that.”

“I see. I suppose the question I should ask right now is if there is a method in your madness?” the doctor wondered.

“I’d like to think so,” Norah replied with a gentle smile.

“I’d like to think so too. You’re a clever girl, Norah. I think you can turn things around and that you will one day turn those hard experiences into something you can make use of,” the doctor said.

“If you have so much faith in my potential, why not let me go and turn things around myself?”

“Because I believe you need some help with heading in the right direction. Something that will give you a kick start,” the doctor said.

“A kick start?” Norah questioned. “How?”

“Your psychiatrist has managed to get you a spot in one of England’s most well respected and successful treatment facilities. You should really take this opportunity and use it to turn your life around. Just give it a few months and I promise, you’ll find yourself on the right path,” the doctor told her enthusiastically.

“But I don’t want to go there. I’ve already told them no,” Norah said irritably.

“Don’t you want your life to change?” the doctor questioned. “Do you really want your life to end in tragedy just like Hamlet’s life did?”

“Of course not,” Norah said with a sigh. “But there are other ways to achieve changes in your life than going to a place like that.”

“Of course there are. But nothing is going to change unless you start doing things differently,” the doctor pointed out. “Why not take the chance to make a radical change to your life? A fresh start some might say.”

“A kick start into a new life,” Norah mused. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Then I think we need to consider keeping you here for longer than until tomorrow,” the doctor said seriously.

“Is that a threat?” Norah asked.

“It’s not a threat, Norah. It’s a safety precaution, because, given your medical history, I can’t guarantee that you do not pose a threat to yourself,” the doctor said.

“How much time have you spent reading my medical record?” Norah questioned irritably. “Do you really have time for that? Especially now of all days?”

“I have a confession to make,” the doctor told her abashedly. “Your psychiatrist is my mentor. That’s why I know so much about you.”

“So you’ve been fed with her opinions about my mental health. Aren’t you supposed to learn to think independently about patients?” Norah questioned.

“I have been thinking independently about your case. It was I who suggested that you would be a good candidate for Willow’s Creek,” the doctor said.

“Well, I’m still not going there,” Norah told him.

“Let’s talk more about it tomorrow,” the doctor suggested. “A nurse told me you had injuries on your stomach, may I see?”

“No,” Norah replied. “It’s just scratches.”

“How did you injure yourself?”

“I cut myself with glass from a broken mirror,” Norah told him. “It was in the heat of the moment. I couldn’t think straight.”

“So it was impulsive,” the doctor concluded.

“I suppose it was,” Norah replied.

“Do you promise to clean and dress the wounds yourself if I get a nurse to give you everything you need for it?” the doctor asked. Norah nodded, feeling grateful that he didn’t insist on seeing her self-inflicted injuries. “I trust you on this, Norah, because I believe you are capable of making sure that you don’t get an infection and I trust that you will ask for help if it should get infected.”

“I will take care of it,” Norah assured him.

“Can you promise me to consider Willow’s Creek? Just google it and read about it, it’s a really great place,” the doctor said.

“I will. If I get my sight back, that is,” Norah said.

“I’m pretty sure you will,” the doctor said and shook her hand. “It was very nice to meet you, Norah.”

“Um, you too, I suppose,” Norah answered awkwardly. She was pretty sure the doctor was smiling at her before leaving the room.

She found herself smiling to herself after their meeting. It was nice to not be treated as a child or made to do things against her will. He had actually respected her wishes.

“Hi,” Tom greeted Norah when he came back into the room. “We’ll be leaving soon so you can get some rest. Sarah just needs to talk to your doctor first,” he explained and sat down next to her. “Would you like me to help you with something while I’m here?”

“I suppose,” Norah said with a big yawn and handed him her unlocked phone. “Could you google ‘Willow’s Creek treatment facility’ for me and tell me about what you find?”

“Sure,” Tom replied and took the phone. “It’s in the countryside. It has a big indoor pool in the basement, table tennis, a gym, and oh, there’s access to horses. This looks more like a nice retreat than a treatment facility. It’s been rewarded for its good result in treating young adults with different mental disorders such as anorexia, bulimia, EDNOS, binge eating disorder, depression, bipolar disorder, anxiety disorders, and personality disorders.”

“Okay,” Norah replied. “Is it a place for rich people only?”

“Doesn’t seem like it. It’s possible for anyone fulfilling the criterions to be admitted. But it seems like it’s really hard to get access to the place since it’s so popular. It says that it’s a great commitment if you’re admitted. You’re expected to take responsibility for your health and to accept the help being offered.”

“I see,” Norah said.

“It sounds like a really great place, Norah,” Tom said eagerly. “I definitely think you should try it if you get the chance to.”

“Why though? I’m doing well now. Except for this little slip up, I’m doing quite well,” Norah told him. “I eat properly, I do my school work, I exercise regularly and I take more responsibility at home. I don’t need to go to a place like that.”

“I still think you should consider it. It might just be the perfect place for you to become more independent,” Tom said. Norah sighed. He was right about her not being independent enough. She still needed Sarah to remind her to eat and do school work and other important things that she wouldn’t prioritise over sitting by her computer playing games online with Riko and Joe. She would lose track of time and always stay up too late and skip meals if it hadn’t been for Sarah.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled in response. She felt self-conscious about the fact that Tom saw her as independent, which she associated with being immature. Maybe the mature choice in this situation would be to go to Willow’s Creek and give it a shot. But what was the whole purpose of trying to be more mature? It’s not like it would make Tom change his mind about loving her as if she was his sister rather than romantically. ‘Or would it?’ Norah couldn’t help but wonder.

“I won’t try to convince you anymore, because it’s entirely your choice, Norah. It’s your life and you should be living it the way you want to. I just think that place can give you an idea about what you want out of life,” Tom told her.

“You’re still trying to convince me though,” Norah remarked.

“Damn it, you’re right. I’m sorry,” Tom said apologetically.

Sarah came back inside the room. Norah couldn’t tell whether she looked pleased or not, but she sounded calm as she informed Tom that it was time for them to leave. He handed Norah her phone back and patted her on the shoulder.

“Take care, Norah. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said gently.

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Sarah told Norah and kissed her on the forehead. “You’re going to be alright, Norah. Try to rest now.”

“I know. You two need to rest too,” Norah told them before they left.

Once she was alone, it didn’t take long for Norah to fall asleep.

When Norah woke up in the morning, she was relieved to discover that her sight was back to normal again. A nurse came in at eight o’clock with breakfast for her and her ordinary morning meds. Norah’s oxygenation levels were back to normal, so she could remove the nasal cannula and walk freely in the room she shared with three others who she hadn’t seen yet since they had been asleep when she arrived.

“I was told to give you those for your injuries,” a nurse told Norah and provided her with bandaids, sterile cotton balls to clean the wounds with and some wound cleanser. “Let me know if you need anything else or if you want any assistance,” the nurse added.

“Thank you,” Norah said appreciatively and went into the bathroom to nurse her wounds in private.

She cleaned the sink with some steriliser before putting the things down on top of a paper towel on the sink. She bit her lip as she carefully rolled up her white top that was stained with dried blood. With a pained grimace she pulled the white fabrik away where it had stuck to the wounds and she sighed with relief once it was done. She could feel the lukewarm liquid run down her stomach to the edge of her jeans and shook her head at how the wounds were a bit worse than she had thought. She had not looked at them properly before putting the bandages on after she injured herself. She stared at the letters in the mirror and felt like she wanted to cry. She questioned how she could have done something like this to herself, but refused to let herself get too emotional about it. What had been done, had been done. All she could do now was care for the wounds and hope the scars wouldn’t be as visible once the wounds had healed.

After nursing her wounds, Norah took her medication with some water, but ignored the breakfast she had received. She sat in her bed and checked her phone. She had gotten some more messages during the night and answered them, assuming that the people she wrote to were asleep by now since they had stayed up all night.

Sarah had texted and asked if she was awake. When Norah had just answered ‘Yes’, Sarah called her and she picked up the phone.

“We’re coming over,” Sarah informed her. “Do you need anything from home?”

“Not really. I’ll probably be discharged in a few hours,” Norah replied.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Sarah replied. “I’ll pack you a bag just in case you’re not.”

“But I’m fine now,” Norah objected, feeling a bit frustrated.

“You did something really dangerous and reckless last night, Norah. You could have died. I believe they might want to keep an eye on you to make sure you’re really okay,” Sarah reasoned.

“You mean mentally?” Norah asked.

“Exactly,” Sarah replied. “We’ll be there soon.”

Norah sighed and proceeded to check out her new friends’ social media profiles. She was especially interested in learning more about Lacey. She noticed that her new friend had a lot of friends and followers, and felt a bit discouraged about that. Norah thought she had felt a special connection with Lacey preceding night, but realised that she might just be one of many. Her heart sank when she found pictures of Lacey kissing other girls at parties. She seemed very generous with her kisses when she was drunk, which seemed to be almost every weekend. Norah felt somewhat disappointed by her discoveries and decided to move on to check Amanda’s profile. Norah felt glad to discover that they at least had some things in common. They seemed to like the same kind of series and movies and had a similar taste in music. She went on to check Trevor’s profile and learned that they had a similar taste in games. Norah checked Will’s profile and noticed that he liked to share medical, psychology and scientific articles. There was one article he had shared about a scientist who saw Borderline personality disorder as a neuropsychiatric condition. Norah opened the link to the article and saved it for later reading. She was interested in learning more about the condition her doctor thought she had, but hadn’t yet diagnosed her with. After reading about it, Norah felt like she could relate to a lot of the criterions for Borderline personality disorder. That’s why she had written an essay about the condition and Hamlet, which both Tom and Sarah had given her a lot of praise for.

A nurse aide came in with a bunch of papers for Norah to fill in. She flipped through them and realised that they were full mental health related questions. There was also a pile of papers with questions about her personality traits.

“What’s this all about?” Norah questioned before the nurse aide had a chance to leave.

“Your doctor wants you to fill in those papers while you’re here. It should keep you busy for some time,” the nurse aide told her with a gentle smile. “You should try to eat and drink something,” she added and nodded in the direction of the tray of breakfast.

“I’m not really hungry,” Norah lied. She felt sick when she thought about all the calories she had ingested through the alcohol preceding night.

“Could I get you something to drink then?” the nurse aide offered. “How about coffee, tea or hot chocolate.”

“Some black coffee would be nice,” Norah replied. “Thank you.”

The nurse aide smiled at her and grabbed the tray, before asking Norah’s roommates if they needed anything. Norah listened to the strangers’ voices and guessed that one was an elderly man, one an elderly woman and the third a younger woman. She couldn’t see any of them since the curtains were all closed.

After the aide had left the room, one of the curtains opened and a woman in her thirties with purple hair and tattooed arms were looking at her.

“Hi,” the woman said with a tired smile. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you also got your stomach pumped during the night.”

“Yeah, that was not fun,” Norah replied and blushed.

“Do you mind if I sit down?” the woman asked and sat down in a chair next to the hospital bed after Norah had nodded in response. “I’m Anastasia, but everyone calls me Ana.”

“It’s nice to meet you Ana, I’m Norah,” Norah replied and they shook hands.

“So what happened? Did you try to kill yourself?” Ana asked and Norah quickly shook her head. “It’s okay if you did. I don’t judge.”

“No, I just got too drunk, that’s all. I also take some meds that I shouldn’t mix with alcohol,” Norah explained. “How about you?”

“Well, I tried to kill myself, but a friend called me an ambulance. I didn’t think she would do that,” Ana explained, not seeming happy about her friend’s way of helping her.

“Do you still want to die?” Norah asked.

“Yeah,” Ana replied. “I’m tired of living like this.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Norah said sadly. She could really relate to that feeling. “Is there anything I could do for you?”

“The fact that you’re talking to me is making me feel less depressed,” Ana said and glanced at Norah's papers. “Are you doing a screening test for personality disorders?”

“Is that what this is?” Norah asked and took the piles of papers in her hands.

“Yeah, I did that a couple of years ago and found out that I have a borderline personality disorder,” Ana said. “That’s why the doctors hate me so much.”

“They hate you because you have borderline?” Norah asked with a frown. She didn’t understand why.

“Yeah. We’re not exactly popular in the health care system,” Ana explained. “Do you think you have it?”

Norah caught Ana looking at her injured arms so she put a hospital cardigan on to cover the white, red and purple scars.

“I believe I might,” Norah revealed. “But so does Hamlet.”

“Is that the guy talking to a skull?” Ana asked with a smile.

“Exactly. He’s known for the line ‘to be or not to be, that is the question,’” Norah explained, happy to talk about something she knew something about.

“It is a living hell to have borderline,” Ana said. “But I guess you know that already. How old are you by the way?”

“Seventeen,” Norah replied.

“You’re so young. I’m almost twice your age,” Ana told her. “But there’s still hope for you then,” she added with a smile. “There are treatments that work for some borderliners.”

“Have you tried any treatments?” Norah wondered.

“Yeah, I’ve pretty much tried every medicine and many different treatments for this shit. But I seem to be a hopeless case,” Ana said sadly.

“I don’t think you’re a hopeless case,” Norah said. “As long as there’s life, there’s hope.”

Ana smiled at her words. “Thank you, Norah,” she said appreciatively. “I’m glad to hear that someone still believes in me. My friends have all grown tired of my self-destructive behaviour.”

“I could be your friend,” Norah said. “No one should be alone with those thoughts and feelings.”

“If you really want to be friends, you can have my number,” Ana said.

“Of course I do,” Norah replied and they exchanged numbers. They spoke some more about life in general and what it was like to live with mental illness, until Sarah and Tom turned up.

“I’ll see you later, Norah,” Ana said before getting back to her bed.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Norah replied and smiled at her new friend.

"You've been making a lot of new friends lately," Sarah commented as she sat down in the chair Ana had been sitting in.

"I suppose so, what about it?" Norah asked defensively. She felt like Sarah was criticising her somehow.

"It's good. I'm happy for you," Sarah said, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"You're happy for me but…?" Norah asked.

Sarah leaned in closer to her and whispered. "Maybe you could be a little more careful when it comes to trusting people you don't really know anything about."

"Really?" Norah questioned and crossed her arms. "Are you for fucking real?! First you want me to get out and expand my social network, but now that I am doing just that, you're saying I shouldn't."

"I just want you to be more careful with whom you share your life story. Maybe the hospital isn't the best place for you to meet new people," Sarah suggested.

"Well, fuck you then!" Norah hissed at her and spilled out her hot coffee into Sarah's lap.

"Damn it, Norah," Sarah muttered and grimaced in pain.

"It wasn't on purpose," Norah replied coolly.

"I sure hope so," Sarah muttered and got up from her seat. Tom handed her a bunch of paper towels and she wiped up the coffee from the floor.

"Did you get hurt?" Tom asked Sarah concernedly when she still had a pained facial expression.

"It burns," Sarah complained. "But I'm sure it's nothing major."

"Let's go to the bathroom and check," Tom said insistently and got out of his seat.

Norah tried not to feel guilty about the accident and picked up her phone to distract herself. She saw a message from Ana and smiled.

The message read: ‘Should we run away together? ;)’

‘Sure ;)’ Norah texted back and got out of the hospital bed. She smiled when she saw Ana do the same. They laughed as they grabbed each others’ hands and ran down the long corridor together.

“Ana!” a nurse called after them, so they ran even faster and exited the ward to the stairwell.

“Up or down?” Norah questioned.

“Down!” Ana replied and they ran down until they reached the ground floor. “Follow me,” Ana said, pulling Norah with her towards the exit. They ran through the automatic doors and both laughed as the cold winter weather greeted their bare feet and lightly clad bodies.

“It’s freezing!” Norah said as they continued down the street. A security guard looked at them suspiciously and began walking towards them, so they picked up running again. He began to run after them and soon put a stop to their little escapade when Norah tripped over her own feet and fell, pulling Ana down with her. They both laughed hard as they sat up on the cold wet ground and checked their bodies for scratches and bruises.

“What are you two up to?” the security guard demanded and looked at them with narrowed eyes. “Did you come from the psych ward?” Norah and Ana just looked at each other and continued to laugh. “Get up!” the man ordered irritably.

“We have done nothing wrong,” Norah told him as she got up from the ground. “We’re not from the psych ward. We just wanted to go for a walk.”

“Exactly,” Ana agreed.

“Did you by any chance come from ward eighty?” a female security guard asked as she walked up to them and looked straight at Norah. “Are you Norah?”

“Maybe,” Norah mumbled, biting her lip nervously. She felt a bit uneasy by the way the guards were looking at her as if she had done something wrong.

“Come on, they’re just worried about you,” the woman said assuringly and put an arm around her shoulders. “And Ana,” she said looking over her shoulder at Ana who was still on the ground. “Try not to give yourself pneumonia. You need to take care of yourself, darling. Otherwise you can’t keep us on our toes with your little escapades.”

Norah looked at Ana. She was only dressed in a hospital gown and a pair of pink girl boxer shorts. Her bare legs were notably thin which made Norah feel self-conscious about having reached normal weight. Ana was clearly underweight.

“Where were you headed this time?” the female guard asked them as she put her free arm around Ana’s thin shoulders.

“To the ice-cream parlour, drinking milkshakes cold and long,” Ana sang and Norah smiled at the David Bowie reference.

“Smiling and waving and looking so fine,” Norah said and met Ana’s gaze. Her eyes lit up with joy.

“Don’t think you knew you were in this song!” They both sang in unison.

“But you’re so young! And you like Bowie too! What are the odds?” Ana said excitedly and shone like the sun. “It must be destiny! We were meant to meet!”

“That must be it!” Norah agreed with a smile. They were soon back in the hospital where the female guard told her colleague that she could bring them back to the ward herself.

“Ana, they’ll be transferring you to ward eighty-two. I offered to take you myself,” the guard said as they stood in the elevator.

“That’s awfully sweet of you, Vera,” Ana replied with a sugary smile. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Norah listened to the guard and Ana joke with each other like they were old friends and smiled sadly as she thought about how Ana’s life must have been. In order to befriend a hospital security guard, Ana had probably been at the hospital quite some times. She had also mentioned that she barely had any friends left who could stand her self-destructive behaviour. Norah couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Ana felt more at home in the hospital than she did in her own apartment.

Once they reached the right floor and the elevator doors opened, they were met by several staff members.

“There you are!” Ana said with a bright smile and ran up to hug one of the people dressed in white. “I’ve missed you!” The blonde haired woman in a doctor’s coat looked clearly uncomfortable as she awkwardly hugged her patient.

“Ana,” the doctor said with a heavy sigh. “What have you done to yourself?”

“Don’t give up on me, doctor Karasovski. It’s just a little setback,” Ana replied.

“Norah!” Sarah hissed angrily and grabbed Norah by the arm. “What were you thinking?”

“If you hadn’t criticised me the way you did, I probably wouldn’t have run away,” Norah replied irritably and pulled her arm out of her sister’s grip.

“In what way did I criticise you?” Sarah questioned.

“Maybe the hospital isn’t the best place for you to meet new people,” Norah said irritably. “That’s what you said! But you know what? Lucy is one of my closest friends. We can talk about everything! And I’ve had more fun today with Ana than I’ve had in ages! I don’t care if you approve of my friendships, because they’re mine! Not yours!”

“Norah, I-” Sarah began to say, but got interrupted.

“I don’t care!” Norah said angrily and quickly headed back to her room. She crawled into the hospital bed and pulled the blankets over her head, like she used to do when she was a child and wanted to hide away from everything. She heard several people getting into the room.

“Norah,” she heard Ana say and immediately pulled away the covers to look at the skinny woman with purple hair. “I have to go now. I just wanted to say thank you for being such a wonderful person. Please take care of yourself.”

“You too,” Norah said and smiled sadly at Ana. Her eyes filled with tears. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, darling. Don’t be sad. We’ll see each other again. I promise,” Ana said as her own eyes filled with tears.

“Not if you die,” Norah cried.

“I won’t die,” Ana assured her as she looked her straight in the eyes. “And you won’t either. Because you know what? One day, we’ll go out and have a milkshake together. Just like in the song. Okay?”

“Okay,” Norah agreed, wiping her tears away.

“Don’t be sad, Norah. I’ll be okay,” Ana told her before she sat down in a wheelchair to be transported to the psychiatric ward by the guard called Vera.

“Norah, are you okay?” Tom asked concernedly.

“I’ll be fine,” Norah replied and made herself stop crying. She had a strange feeling, like a foreboding that something bad would happen to Ana, and she couldn’t quite shake it off.

“Norah, I’m sorry I-” Sarah tried to say but Norah silenced her with an angry glare.

“I don’t care,” Norah said coldly.

Sarah sighed heavily, but didn’t say anything else.

“Perhaps you should try to fill in the papers,” Tom suggested after a long moment of uncomfortable silence. Norah grabbed the pen and the paper piles and began to fill them in.

“Let me know if you need any help,” Sarah offered, but Norah just shot her a glare in response.

Tom and Sarah eventually took up their phones to keep themselves occupied while Norah focused on the many pages with different questions and alternatives to fill in.

The hours passed by slowly. When a nurse aide arrived with lunch for Norah, Sarah and Tom decided to leave her alone to go to the cafeteria. Norah felt relieved that she was left unsupervised for the meal, with no one there to make her eat anything she didn’t want to eat. Instead of eating, she continued to fill in the papers until she was all done.

Then she laid down in the bed and listened to some music with the new headphones she got from Tom. He had made her two playlists on Spotify, one for running and one for just listening to the lyrics. Sometimes, like now, the lyrics felt spot on.

'I feel like no one ever told the truth to me About growing up and what a struggle it would be In my tangled state of mind I' ve been looking back to find Where I went wrong'

@o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @sassafras04 @nanarento @sidneydisneyq @siyoteodiara @banddorkmarie @highjackluv @midnight-polaroids @mediocretranquility @musicartmayheminmyheart @rip-taylors-reputation @littlegeneralamy @tiffanylcullen @twhiddlestonsstuff

Previous Chapter

#mental health problems #mental illness #he loves me not #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston #borderline personality traits #bordeline personality disorder #unrequited love #TW depression #depression #anxiety #eating disorders #eating disorder #suicidal ideation #Suicide attempt #trigger warning suicide attempt #coming of age

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yourfaves-a-pokemaster · 2 years ago

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Alright everyone I'm back and continuing my Strange Variant series! Today we're doing Defender Strange's team, or as I like to call them, Team Defender. As a quick side note I've pretty much decided that all Strange variants have at least one sort of "cute" Pokémon who serves more like a pet or mascot than a fighter. Yeah I have no excuse except I wanna see Benedict Cumberbatch with cute Pokémon.

Don't judge me.

That all being said, let's take a look at:

Team Defender!

1. Talonflame

I'm pretty sure you can guess why I put talonflame on the team. It's the bird motif man, and it's strong here. Talonflame is Defender's lead Pokémon, and his fastest. However its not his strongest. This bird is brash, bold, and unafraid to put any Pokémon or supernatural entity in their place.

2. Haxorus

Hax is the only surviving member of Team Defender, sadly. I love the idea of Defender Strange with a dragon, but I wanted him to have one that wasn't necessarily goofy looking or over the top. Hax is imposing but has a surprisingly gentle nature despite his appearance and ferocity in battle. He becomes something of a Guardian to America Chavez, integrating into her team of mostly fighters and fairies. Hax sticks out like a sore thumb and he's okay with that.

3. Delphox

Okay maybe there's a little bit of a fire motif with this team too, because this one was a toss up between Delphox and ninetales. Delphox won because she's part psychic as well, and I like the idea of Stephen having a psychic type in every universe. It may also come as no surprise that Delphox is also the most magically gifted of Team Defender.

4. Mightyena

Every team has a dark side and mightyena is kinda the representation of Defender's inner darkness, perhaps even a foreshadowing of what he becomes later in Multiverse of Madness. Mightyena is brave, loyal to the core, and evolved surprisingly quickly. He's usually there to help the team get out of serious trouble, seeing his comrades as his family/pack.

5. Lucario

We all know Stephen's all about the auras, and what better Pokémon to pick up on those than Lucario? He's a direct rival of the Delphox, believing more in physical might than magic. I believe this was his second pokemon, potentially hatched from an egg, so Defender feels a very close kinship to his Lucario, and the feeling is very much mutual.

6. Zigzagoon

Like wooloo I have no excuse. I love this Pokémon, and for some reason I feel he just vibes with defender Strange. Seen oftentimes riding around on his shoulder or on mightyena's back, zigzagoon is a little adventurer. He loves to travel and do things with his friends. He's not very strong but he's the sort of heart of Team Defender.

And that concludes Team Defender! I'll be doing Supreme Strange (838 Strange) next time! Thanks for reading and don't forget to stay awesome!

#pokemon #marvel #crossover #pokemon crossover #pokemon teams #pokemon team #dr. strange #defender strange #zigzagoon #lucario #delphox #mightyena #haxorus #talonflame

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turkisherlockian · 4 years ago

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Books and Sins | Chapter Two [Benedict Cumberbatch AU]

Hello everyone! I'm Cer but you might remember me as @rosamundhr a.k.a. Rosamund, it was my nickname but I've changed my mind and I will use my own name Ceren, now. (Cer for short hehehe) Unfortunately I lost access to @rosamundhr so I will keep posting my stories here! I hope you enjoy it and I apologise for making you all wait for so long! Love you all, stay safe. 😸❤️

Summary: Katherine is a fan of Timothy Carlton, the writer who she knows nothing about. No photos, no interviews, no information, not even his age. And one day, a man comes into her life who claims to be her classmate from high school. But through the time, she has a gut feeling something is... Wrong.

Warnings: Mature content, self harm, violence, swearing.

Word count: 1855

Feedbacks are much appreciated and so motivating!

Chapter One

---

Katherine woke up with a weird feeling inside her chest. She was mad at herself for being like this: She could like someone so easily and fall in love with them soon after. It was not her fault though, he was really charming. Too good looking to like her back. However, she tried to convince herself that she just liked him and was attracted to him because he was a writer and well... Handsome as fuck. Not to mention his gentlemanly behaviour. Taking a deep breath, she reached out for her phone to tell her best friend about it. She didn't really have lots of friends and she never complained about it, she liked solitude.

She scolded herself for being that excited about the thought of seeing him again. He was the very first thing that was on her mind in the morning and she wanted to talk to him again. So badly.

K: Morning!

S: Morning to you too 🤣

You're texting me 'morning' since when?

K: Stop being sarcastic. Can't I be nice to my best friend?

S: Of course you can, I'm kidding. I just wondered what made you this cheerful... Or who, I should say.

K: You know who.

S: Oh do I?

K: Come on, Samantha! The man I met yesterday. I can't get him out of my mind, I don't know what happened to me but he's like... Cigarette.

S: You're smoking? Since when???

K: Of course I don't! It was just an example, idiot. Just can't get him out of my mind. What do I do?

S: Text him maybe?

You won't seem desperate, don't worry. I am sure he found you attractive as well and he might even be in love with you.

K: Okay, no need to exaggerate.

What do I say, good morning or hi?

S: It doesn't matter!

K: Okay, I'll text you later.

Are you sure I won't seem desperate?

S: JUST TEXT HIM FOR GOD'S SAKE!

K: OKAY I WILL!

S: Don't forget to tell me about it. I gotta go now, talk to you later. xxx

K: Bye! ❤️

---

There was something different about him. Did she like him because he was attractive or because he was nice to her? She had to admit that he was attractive, but there was something else in his voice, in his looks, in the way he talked. She actually found him beautiful.

Taking a deep breath, she finally decided to text him.

K: Good morning. :)

Was he still asleep? Maybe he was at work. Wait, do writers go to work? Maybe he had another job. Maybe not. Maybe he just did not want to talk to her... Why wasn't he replying?!

She sighed in frustration as she took a big sip from her coffee and burned her tongue.

B: Morning, Katherine.

How are you? :)

He finally replied after 10 minutes. She bit her lip as her heart skipped a beat, and started typing.

K: I'm good! Getting ready to go to school.

K: I mean work.

God, I'm an idiot, she thought.

K: How about you?

B: Just got out of shower, that's why I replied late by the way. Sorry about that. :)

K: I was wondering if you would like to meet again sometime.

She grinned as she bit her lip, that's what she always did when she was nervous or excited.

---

K: I would love that! When will you be free?

B:I'm always available for you.

Whenever you'd like. :)

She started squealing in excitement. What did he just say?!

K:I'm free in the afternoon.

B: Wonderful. How about the café we met?

K: Sounds good. Is 2PM okay for you?

B: Yes. I am looking forward to it, Katherine.

K: So am I. :)

I gotta go now, see you later. x

B: Have a good day. See you. x

She looked at her watch and she was 30 minutes late already. Without telling Samantha about it, she started to get ready in a hurry.

She was never late for work, so no one was upset with her being late.

---

''...And my mum said I'm out of my mind!''

Katherine just could not get him out of her mind, and she hated it. She did listen to her counselee but couldn't pay any attention, and now she was crying. She gave her a tissue, ''I understand you, Jane, and I hope telling me about it made you feel better. I know how difficult it is for you, but I have a suggestion. When I was your age, I found a way to deal with my problems: being your own counselor.'' She smiled warmly.

''My own counselor? How?'' The young girl sniffled.

''I imagined that I was told about everything I am going through, and I had to find them a way out. Think of it as if you're reading your life in third person of view. I did it for years and I still do when I don't want to tell people about my feelings. Plus, I found out that it was scientifically proven in college, so it is safe and it actually works. How does that sound?''

She wiped her tears, ''I can try...''

''So tell me, what would you say to yourself if you were someone else?''

''I think I would say that maybe..." She sniffled, "Maybe her mother wasn't feeling good as well.''

Katherine smiled, ''That's it! You are right. We all have problems that we don't want to tell the others and sometimes we might burn out on people we care about the most without being aware of it. You can ask your mother if she is feeling alright, it doesn't matter whether you are still upset with her or not; maybe you can help her as well just like you just helped yourself. That was very brave of you, in my opinion.'' She smiled wholeheartedly.

The girl who was just crying smiled and said ''Thank you very much, Miss Daelan. It's going to be the first thing I'm gonna do when I'm home.''

''You're welcome. Feel free to talk to me anytime.'' She got up to open the door for her and then left the room as well before checking her phone.

3 new messages from Samantha

S: Hey! Send screenshots!!!

Are you there?

Kath!

K: I'm sorryyyy I was late to work already and then forgot to text you.

Here you go:

*screenshots*

S: I told you that he liked you as well, he is flirting with you!

K: No he's not!

S: He adores you!

K: You are really exaggerating.

''Miss Daelan, do you have a minute?'' Katherine looked up at the principle, "Yes, Mr Brealey."

K: The principle wants to talk to me, I'll ttyl xxx

S: What did he say?

The old man opened his room's door for Katherine, she smiled and walked inside. He gestured her to sit down, "Please, have a seat." he said and closed the door. After sitting down, he cleared his throat and said "Miss Daelan, I... Erm..."

He loosened his tie, couldn't dare to look at Katherine. His cheeks were red and there was a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. The young woman frowned a little, listening to him in curiosity. "I've known you since the day you started working here and... I must say that you are the most intelligent, kind, beautiful woman I have ever seen... I can't take my eyes off you because you're an amazing woman and I... I love you."

Katherine was shocked, didn't know what to say at first. She did not feel honored at all, she was disgusted. "Excuse me? I thought you were married!"

"Yes but I don't love my wife, I'm going to divorce her soon; you must understand Miss Daelan, I love you! Please give me a chance..." And now she felt her blood boil in her veins.

"I am sorry but it's never gonna happen. I suggest you to divorce your wife as soon as possible to keep her away from an asshole like you." Katherine stood up angrily and walked towards the door, "But Miss D--" and she shut the door.

K: FUCKING HELL!

He said he loves me!

He's fucking married, Samantha!

*seen*

Are you there?

*seen*

K: I guess you are busy

I'm going home to get ready, talk to you later xxx

S: Sorry, I had to deal with a costumer

What a prick!!!

How dare he?

I want to kill him.

K: Violence is never the answer but yeah, I pity on his wife to be honest. He even has children.

ANYWAY

WHAT AM I GOING TO WEAR?

S: Whatever you're comfortable with. :)

K: How about a dress?

The one I wore when we last met?

S: You look so hot in it 🔥

Wear that one!

K: It covers all of my body, it's kinda tight and there's NO WAY I can look hot in it. I don't want to look pretentious anyway.

S: Anything you wear looks good on you, love!

K: Gay. 🤭

S: Shut up. Wear it!

K: LOL sorry!

I gotta go nowww

S: Tell me all about it when you're home, IF you go back home ;) Good luck!

K: I WILL and thanks! ❤️

The young woman sighed as she tried to find her keys. She was still mad at the principal and it was frustrating her.

After a short shower, she dried her hair with a towel and let her curls down on her shoulders. She wore the dress and looked in the mirror, It actually looks good, she thought. After applying some makeup and wearing her favourite her perfume, she was ready. She didn't like to wait and hated making the others wait for her as well, so she left her flat at 1:30PM. It took her 15 minutes to get to the café and she realized that she wasn't the only one who was punctual.

"Hi..." She said as she walked towards the man she couldn't get out of her mind. He was wearing a brown jumper with beige trousers and she breathed his masculine, minty cologne in. Her heart was beating faster already.

"Oh, hi, Katherine!" He stood up and for one second she didn't know what to do. Should she shake his hand or kiss his cheek? Or hug him? The young man leaned down and kissed her cheek before hugging her, she was shaking inside.

He felt her body close to his. He felt her delicate, pale skin; and her linden scent made him feel dizzy. Her arms hugged his chest and he felt her plump, beautiful breasts. He watched her dress tighten around her curves as she moved.

She was so beautiful and he could barely keep his hands to himself. He could kiss and take her right there, but didn't. He had to control himself until she submitted to him, which wasn't going to take long because it was in her blood. Submitting, obeying, and being his. He just knew it, and he was going to take what belonged to him. Katherine, belonged to him.

---

Chapter Three

Please let me know what you think! ❤️

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sscrambledmeggss · 3 years ago

Note

quick question glee made up kurts eye colour? I have been gaslighted

When searching for the origin:

1) the only thing about ‘glasz origin’ when searching that doesn’t autocorrect to ‘glass’ is an urban dictionary entry:

Safe to say it didn’t lead to much 🤨

3) I started googling it as a last name meaning but still didn’t find anything.

4) FINALLY I came across this beautiful thing: The Etymology of Kurt Hummel’s Eyes

It definitely cleared a lot of things up 😭

anyways this post explains the reason for them turning it into the Hungarian spelling and not just the Welsh one.

Anyways I’m sorry for making this answer so long, but thank you for listening to my deep dive <3

#Toby Wilde #IM SORRY FOR MAKING THIS SO LONG SJDJS #kurt hummel #glee #I’m sorry if there are any typos in here 🦧#meg’s incoherent thoughts #chris colfer #glee cast

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thewatsonbeekeepers · 4 years ago

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Chapter 12: Three Men in a Boat [TFP 2/3]

[This was completely missing from my tumblr, via every search function and everything! So I’ve reuploaded - thanks anon for letting me know!!]

This section of the meta is going to deal with the events at Sherrinford – I’ve broken TFP up into three sections to try and get the most out of it. This isn’t just a read through like the first part of the meta, it has a specific structure, much like Eurus’s trials for the boys, so it’s really important to take this bit in one chapter. My hypothesis is thus – that each episode of s4 has been a different obstacle to be broken through in Sherlock’s mind, and that each of them is represented by one of the different Sherrinford tasks. It’s essentially an illumination of Sherlock’s progress through his mind – but it’s set up by Eurus, who is Sherlock’s mental barrier, so these are going to represent Sherlock’s darkest fears about each of the obstacles. Ready? Let’s go.

We take up the episode at the pirate hijacking, which is quite BAMF, but also illuminates a couple of things that we should bear in mind going into this episode. The first is that the transition from a blown up Baker Street to Sherlock and John hijacking a boat without a scratch on them is absolutely bizarre and leaves SO many questions – it’s dream-jumping of the most obvious kind. The second is that water has played a long role as a metaphor through the show, particularly in the EMP sequence, and it’s climaxing now – we are in the deepest waters of Sherlock’s mind.

Mycroft and John working together in the disguise sequence is metaphorically lovely – in the Oscar Wilde scene of the last part we saw Sherlock’s brain and heart finally coming together, and here for the first time they’re working together to give Sherlock the ability to go and confront Eurus. This is what makes Mycroft’s line so powerful. He says:

Say thank you to Doctor Watson. […] He talked me out of Lady Bracknell – this could have been very different.

Comic throwaway? Maybe. But given what we know about Lady Bracknell from the first part, this also has a more powerful meaning – heart!John finally stopped brain!Mycroft from being an obstructive force in Sherlock’s psyche, and they started working together instead to save him. This could have been very different is far more loaded than it sounds. All this whilst creating an image of Mark Gatiss as a Victorian aunt – wonderful.

When we first meet Eurus proper, her similarity to Sherlock is striking. She plays the violin – this isn’t a Holmes thing, because Mycroft doesn’t – it’s Sherlock’s motif throughout. Her hair is like a feminine Sherlock, her pallor and cheekbones match Cumberbatch. For reference, this is a picture of Sian Brooke and Benedict Cumberbatch together in real life.

I’ve done a section on why I think Eurus is the most repressed part of Sherlock’s psyche, and his traumatic barrier to love and life – I sometimes glibly refer to this as gay trauma, but that’s its essence. The similarity between Brooke and Cumberbatch in this scene is really compelling, looking the same but lit and dressed in opposite colours. Similarity and difference both highlighted. Even nicer, the white of Sherlock’s shirt is the same notable brightness as Eurus’s uniform, but it’s hidden under his jacket – a visual metaphor for her being hidden inside him.

Eurus gives Sherlock a Stradivarius as a gift. This should set alarm bells ringing for anybody who has seen TPLoSH. If you haven’t seen The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes, please do so immediately because my God you are missing out, but TLDR – a Russian ballerina offers Holmes a Stradivarius to have sex with her so she can have a brainy child, and he declines because he’s gay. (This is not just my interpretation, this is genuinely what happens, just to be clear.) Eurus giving Sherlock a Stradivarius is a deliberate callback to the film which Mofftiss cite as their biggest inspiration; just like the ballerina tempted Holmes to feign heterosexuality, so does Eurus – and both make clear that it’s not without its rewards, which is unfortunately true for real life as well. This moment in Sherlock’s psyche also recalls the desperate unrequitedness of Holmes’s love for Watson in TPLoSH, a reference to our Sherlock’s deepest fear at the moment – he has realised his importance but not John’s romantic/sexual love for him, as we’ll see. So here, trauma!Eurus isn’t just referencing closetedness, but is actively drawing on a history of character repression with which to torment Sherlock – metafictionality at its finest.

The Stradivarius is specifically associated with closetedness, but violins more generally in the show are used to show expressions of love that can’t be voiced out loud – think of John and Mary’s wedding, or the desperate bowing of ASiB. So Eurus, gay trauma that she is, telling Sherlock that she taught him to play is a moment of distinct pain – she is the reason he can’t speak his love aloud, but instead has to speak in signs.

When Sherlock plays ‘him’, rather than Bach, to Eurus (he has a big Bach thing with Moriarty in s2, take from that what you will because I don’t know!), he’s playing Irene Adler’s theme. As a fandom, we’ve generally agreed on associating Irene’s theme with sexual love, which ties in nicely with Eurus’s question – has Sherlock had sex? It’s unanswered. At the end of ASiB, Irene calls Sherlock the virgin, suggesting that he hasn’t.

My favourite moment in s4 without a doubt is Jim dancing to I Want To Break Free. I know it’s the most boring thing to say, but my two greatest loves are Andrew Scott and Freddie Mercury, so it was like Christmas. Here it is also Christmas, but there are two possible timelines. I hypothesise that this refers to Christmas 2010, but it’s absolutely conceivable that it could be Christmas 2009. If we acknowledge that Sherlock is in a coma in 2014, then five years ago is Christmas 2009; however, given that we’ve jumped to 2015 in dream time, I’m going to make the guess that Jim’s visit to Sherrinford is supposed to take place in 2010. This ties up with the idea that this is when Moriarty first started taking an interest in Sherlock, who had never heard of him before ASiP, particularly as this is all in the EMP.

I firmly believe that Jim represents the fear that John is in danger – I highlight this in the chapter on HLV, where you’ll recall we first encounter Jim in the EMP and he sends Sherlock on his journey through the EMP with the words John Watson is definitely in danger – a pretty big sign. Even without this, though, his biggest threat to Sherlock has always been hurting John, whether in TRF or with the idea of burning the heart out of him with Semtex. It’s not unreasonable then to assume that MP!Jim first getting inside Sherlock’s subconscious to represent this fear happens in 2010, when he first meets John. He slips in and stays there, and he melds with Eurus. We see this in the powerful visual of the two of them dancing in front of the glass as Jim’s image slowly becomes Eurus’s reflection – the fear of John dying embeds itself into the gay trauma that Sherlock has stored up, even without him realising it. This ties in nicely with the choice of I Want to Break Free, which is famous for its use of drag in the music video – Jim melding into Eurus is the dark side of queer genderbending that we hate to see. It’s also a pretty fitting song name for an intensifying of repressed gay trauma, even without the association with queer king Mercury.

[A side note to all of this – there were wonderful TEH metas about trains in tunnels being sexual, which isn’t just a tjlc thing but is a well-established idea in cinema – Moriarty’s consistent train noises here seem like a horrifyingly inverted version of that sexual longing.]

Task 1 – The Six Thatchers

The governor is set up as a mirror for John in this task, which provides some helpful context for the episode as a whole. Heart!John makes this comparison himself, by drawing out the similarity between the situation with the governor’s wife and his with Mary, though in this case the governor does kill himself because of his wife – or so it seems. The suicidal instinct matches with everything we’ve learned about John in s4, but I want to hypothesise, perhaps tenuously, that he’s more connected with Eurus than we might think. We know that Eurus has had control of the governor for quite some time, and one of the things we hear her saying to the governor in the background of the interrogations is that he shouldn’t trust his wife. This is an odd thing to pepper into the background when he’s about to commit suicide for her, and perhaps suggests that he’s more of Eurus’s pawn than he lets on, though I grant this may be spurious.

The idea that he distrusts his wife because of Eurus is important, however, because we’ve already seen John engage with Eurus in various forms, but this seems like an extension of E; Eurus, aka Sherlock’s hidden self, has been making John doubt Mary, even before she shoots Sherlock. John cannot know she’s a spy at this point, so it’s unlikely he’s doubting her goodwill; he’s simply doubting her.

Before we look at how the actual task impacts the governor and how that illustrates what’s really going on in TST, it’s worth pointing out that it is the governor’s engagement with Eurus which prompts the entire shutdown of Sherrinford and forces Sherlock (with brain!Mycroft and heart!John ever at his side, of course) to engage once and for all with Eurus. This points to everything that s4 has been telling us – that Sherlock’s understanding of the relationship between him and John, including his power to save him (we’re going to see the governor play the foil here) is what sends his brain into stay-alive-overdrive. Sherrinford is the peak of this.

Summary of the task, for those who hate TFP: Sherlock is given a gun and told he can pick either John or Mycroft to kill the governor, otherwise the governor’s wife will be killed by Eurus. As I’ve written about in its chapters, TST is about Sherlock trying to get to the bottom of Mary and why she tried to kill him – and, of course, the impact this will have on John. In brief, by displacing the shot onto Mary in his mind, he’s discounting his own importance and instead thinking about what it will mean for John to lose Mary. His greatest fear is that losing Mary will break John, and it isn’t until the end of TLD that he recognises that the return of John’s suicidal ideation isn’t over Mary, but over him. TFP presents the horror version, the version of TST that Sherlock’s trauma wants him to believe but which he has to overcome. In this case, Mycroft and John resolve to keep the governor alive in their passivity, but that passivity – Sherlock’s coma – is not enough to keep the governor from killing himself over Mary. This is the most feared outcome from Mary’s death that Sherlock can think of – his fear of losing John combined with John’s love of Mary, which in TST Sherlock is still taking as read.

Double naming in this show should never be neglected, and in this case we learn shortly before the governor dies that his name is David. Again, the dramatic manner in which we learn this (on the moment of execution) draws our attention to it – we know another David in this show.

Yup – Mary's ex who’s still in love with her from TSoT. So even though Sherlock is experiencing the panic of John killing himself for loss of Mary, his subconscious is still pointing out to him that that’s not what’s happening here. This mirror version of John that he has set up, who is broken by the loss of Mary as Sherlock fears in TST, is actually the other man in Mary’s life – even with Eurus forcing the worst possible scenario onto him, this still can’t quite fit John’s character. And so we move onto the second task.

Task 2 – The Lying Detective

This section of the Sherrinford saga is the three Garridebs, the closest thing that the fandom has ever got to a collective trauma. I do think, however, that it’s fully reclaimable for tjlc and means the same as we always wanted it to; I also think that it’s possibly the most gutting part of Eurus’s metatfictional power play.

If you haven’t read The Adventure of the Three Garridebs, it’s quite short and the most johnlocky of the Holmes canon, so I’d thoroughly recommend. For the purposes of mapping bbc!verse onto acd!verse, however, here’s the incredibly short version. A man called Evans wants to burgle Nathan Garrideb, so he calls himself John Garrideb and writes an advertisement from a man called Alexander Hamilton Garrideb (make of that what you will, hamilstans) declaring that he wants to bequeath his fortune to three Garridebs. “John” gets someone to pretend to be a Howard Garrideb to get Nathan out of the house to meet him – he comes to burgle the house but Holmes and Watson are lying in wait. He shoots Watson, and Holmes thinks Watson is seriously injured and so we have this wonderful section:

“You’re not hurt, Watson? For God’s sake, say you are not hurt!”

It was worth a wound–it was worth many wounds–to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.

“It’s nothing, Holmes. It’s a mere scratch.”

He had ripped up my trousers with his pocket-knife.

“You are right,” he cried with an immense sigh of relief. “It is quite superficial.” His face set like flint as he glared at our prisoner, who was sitting up with a dazed face. “By the Lord, it is as well for you. If you had killed Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive. Now, sir, what have you to say for yourself?”

Mofftiss have referenced this moment as being the greatest in the Holmes canon for them, the moment when we see the depth of Holmes’s affection for Watson, and so it seems odd to waste it on such a tiny moment in TFP. Many fans, myself included, were really upset to see Eurus drop all three Garridebs into the sea, the implication being that tjlc would never be real, and it was that moment that caused many (including me) to walk away. I came back, obviously, but I completely understand why you wouldn’t. However, I want to map one Garridebs story onto the other to show how they might match up.

The Garridebs that Eurus presents us with are not the three Garridebs from the story. In the story, there are three physically present Garridebs – Nathan, John and Howard – although admittedly only Nathan is an actual Garrideb. Alexander was completely invented by John and existed only in a newspaper advertisement. Evans, alias John Garrideb, is the criminal in the Garridebs story; Alexander is an invention.

So – what happens if we substitute John for Alex in bbc!verse, as in canon they are the same person? This is interesting, because double-naming means that John becomes the killer. Whilst it’s true that John Garrideb is known as Killer Evans for his murder of a counterfeiter back in America, in canon he is done for attempted murder – of John Watson, of course. Here we have a situation where a John is set up killing John. This is exacerbated by the victim in bbc!verse being called Evans; Roger Prescott, the counterfeiter, would have been a much more canonical nod to the books, so we can assume that the choice of Evans is therefore significant. It should be noted that Evans and John/Alex Garrideb are the same person in acd!canon - so killing Evans is a representation of suicide. But, in case we weren’t there yet, the reason that Evans took the name ‘John’ is acd!canon is very likely to be because Evan is Welsh for John – so whatever way you look at this situation, you have Sherlock deducing John killing John.

This is, of course, exactly what Sherlock deduces at the end of TLD, far too slow, when we see Eurus shoot John in an exact mirror of the shot from TST – I explained in a previous chapter why this means that John is suicidal without Sherlock. However, much like the passivity of Sherlock, John and Mycroft in the first task, here we see that Sherlock’s act of deduction is good, but can’t actually save anyone; Eurus kills off our Garridebs moment as Sherlock is left to watch, and it’s notable that heart!John is the most distressed about this. Remember, in the first task Eurus left Sherlock with an image of a John who was suicidally devoted to Mary, and although the Garridebs moment is one which metafictionally highlights the relationship between Sherlock and John, she’s still presenting him with a Garridebs moment in which he is fundamentally unable to save John. This is a direct result of the Redbeard trauma that Sherlock has experienced – helplessness is key to that, and this is what Eurus has come to represent in his psyche. But – Eurus isn’t real, Eurus is testing Sherlock, trauma trying to bring him down, and Sherlock’s job in TFP is to break through the walls that his consciousness has set up for him.

The power in Sherlock saying I condemn Alex Garrideb is heartbreaking, then, because it is Sherlock recognising that he is the reason that John is going to die. Eurus is there to make him confront that reality, which she explicitly makes him do. We get the split-second moment where he thinks he’s saved Alex, and then he’s plunged into the sea – but remember, this is Eurus taunting Sherlock, presenting him with worst-possible-scenarios. TFP is set up as a game for a reason – it is a series of hypotheses cast in Sherlock’s mind by his trauma that he has to break through one by one. Remember, although she’s ostensibly trying to hurt Sherlock, Eurus’s ‘extra’ murders in the first two tasks are aimed at hurting John, which wouldn’t make sense if he weren’t the mp version of Sherlock’s heart.

Task 3 – The Final Problem

Pretty much straight after this episode aired, people were pointing out that Molly is a clear John mirror and that pretty much all of the deductions Sherlock makes here could be about John. Again, we’re seeing Sherlock’s emotions being resolved in a heterosexual context – the presence of Eurus means that he’s unable to process them in their real, queer form. However, if we take Molly to be a stand-in for John in this scene, it may tell us what TFP is about – and the scenario that Eurus presents will be the worst one, the thing that is causing Sherlock the most pain.

TLD/the previous task have shown us that John is in imminent danger, so the transition to Molly Hooper’s flat being rigged with bombs is not a difficult one; we must assume this to be the suicidal ideation that we’ve just deduced. The time limit suggests that Sherlock is running out of time to save him (fucking right he fell into a coma SIX YEARS AGO). Putting Molly in a bad mood isn’t really necessary for this scene – they make her seem a lot more depressed than she would necessarily need to be, and they emphasise her aloneness and her ability to push people away, which isn’t something we know Molly to do. These traits are all much more important in the context of a suicidal John – they paint a much clearer picture of someone who is depressed and alone than we really need for this scene, where it’s not relevant to the surface plot.

Sherlock and the audience believe he has won this task, but of course he hasn’t - there were never any explosives rigged up in Molly’s flat, and it was a ruse to destroy his relationship with Molly. This is what he fears then – what if he’s wrong? What if coming back to life because he loves John won’t save him – it will destroy him and their relationship? The problem to be wrestled with is how to save John – according to the symmetry of these tasks, that is the final problem. We know that the scenario Eurus has presented isn’t real, but Sherlock doesn’t; he is being held up by his inability to cope with interpersonal relationships, and to get to the bottom of that we’re going to need to understand what he’s been repressing – part 3 of this meta.

There’s a wonderful shot just as Sherlock is destroying Molly’s coffin which zooms up and out through a ceiling window, all the way above Sherrinford, as though to emphasise not how remote Sherrinford is but just how deep inside it Sherlock is. Given what we know about the height metaphor as well as the water metaphor, this shot is a pretty clear way of telling us – this is as deep inside Sherlock’s mind as we go, this is the nub. But Sherlock smashing up the coffin has another powerful connotation – he's refusing death. In terms of metaphor, he’s refusing John’s death – there will be no small coffin, because he will not let it happen – but the visual of him smashing the coffin also suggests that he is rejecting his own death. The two are, of course, inextricably linked. Our boys’ lives are tied together.

Epilogue: The Hunger Games

I can’t watch this without thinking of The Hunger Games, I just can’t! But regardless of how much Sherlock seems like Katniss in this section, let’s press on. I don’t count this as one of the typical tasks, because this isn’t Eurus presenting a ‘haha I tricked you scenario’ - far from it. This is Sherlock’s way into unlocking his repression. The key takeaway from this scene, as we’ll see is that trauma has hurt Sherlock, and it’s going to try pretty hard here to mutilate him – but it can’t kill him.

We get a great line from Sherlock at the beginning of this, where he tells John that the way Eurus is treating him isn’t torture, it’s vivisection. Because it’s an experiment? Perhaps. But the more logical way to phrase this would be that it isn’t vivisection, it’s torture. Torture is much more emotionally charged than vivisection as a phrase – from a writer’s perspective, this phrasing is strange because it seems to negate rather than intensify the pain our characters are undergoing. Why, then, would vivisection be more important than torture? Well, put simply, vivisection is the act of cutting someone open and seeing what’s inside – and that’s what we’re doing. This isn’t just an analogy for experimenting on people, it’s an analogy for going literally inside somebody. In EMP world, then, these words are well chosen.

Sherlock is offered the choice – John or Mycroft? Heart or brain? We might initially think that this is Eurus pressuring Sherlock into death, but that’s not the case at all – we know from the early series that Sherlock has survived before (although very unhappily) with just one of these two dominating the other. It has taken his EMP journey to unite them into a functioning entity, and Eurus is bent on destroying that, mutilating either his emotional capacity or his reasoning, the two parts that make him human. This is a good sign, as well, that trauma has been acting on Sherlock through the first three series, when his psyche was dominated by brain!Mycroft - Eurus is keen to revert to that state, when trauma had control. It is touching, then, that brain!Mycroft is willing to relinquish that control and leave Sherlock with his heart, perhaps because this new unity allows him to recognise how damaged the Sherlock he created was. We should also note that this diminishing of Sherlock’s heart is compared to his Lady Bracknell, which we know to be his repression of all Sherlock’s romantic/sexual impulses – except this time it’s less convincing, because his brain doesn’t believe it anymore. What is also devastating is heart!John’s lack of self-esteem or knowledge, the sense that he isn’t useful to Sherlock, which of course will be proven wrong.

[if anyone has thoughts on the white rectangle on the floor, do let me know. It’s bugging me!]

Mycroft says that he acknowledges there is a heart somewhere inside of him – again, this is emotionally powerful in the context of the brain/heart wrangling that we’ve seen inside the EMP. Just as Sherlock’s psyche has tried to compartmentalise them all this time and they’re finally working together, now there’s an acknowledgement that the compartmentalisation into personae is maybe inaccurate as well – brain!Mycroft’s pretence to be emotionally detached is not in fact correct, as we’ve been suspecting for a long time.

Brain!Mycroft also states that it’s his fault that this has all happened because he let Eurus converse with Jim. If you spend any time thinking about the Eurus + Jim meeting, like many elements of this show it doesn’t make sense. There isn’t a feasible way this could have been planned, recorded etc in five minutes, and although it’s true that Jim could have come back to shoot the videos under the governor’s supervision, it’s not clear why he’s so important. Unless he takes on the metaphorical significance that we’ve assigned him, letting Jim see Eurus seems pretty unimportant – he is only the garnishing on Eurus’s plan. Instead, Mycroft is at fault for letting John be in danger – not only did Sherlock misdeduce Mary (although we can lay the blame for that at the feet of heart!John - see meta on TST), his reasoning was blinded and so he missed John’s suicidal urges and the danger to his life. Brain!Mycroft holds himself responsible – all of these EMP deductions are way late, comprised of things Sherlock should have noticed when his brain wasn’t letting his heart in.

Five minutes. It took her five minutes to do this to all of us.

The lighting is dramatic, so I can’t properly gauge Ben’s expression at this moment, but his eyes look crinkled in confusion, just like they are at the moments when a sense of unreality starts to set in in TAB. Indeed, these aren’t very appropriate words for when you’re about to kill your brother; it’s like he’s being distracted, like there’s something important that he’s missing. Mofftiss are drawing attention to the sheer impossibility of the situation – and Sherlock’s nearly there. His Katniss Everdeen move, threatening to kill himself, is the recognition that his trauma doesn’t have that power – it can hurt him and deform him by twisting his psyche into unbalance, like it has before and like Eurus is trying to here, but it cannot kill him. We can see that Sherlock has risen above the one-sided dominance that he began the entire show with when Eurus shouts at him that he doesn’t know about Redbeard yet – that’s not going to change his mind today, but it’s a direct throwback to the days when it would have, in ASiP with the cabbie. Character development, folks.

The shot of Sherlock falling backwards into the dark water links to two aspects of the EMP. One is the continued metaphor of water to represent sinking into the depths of his mind. The water is so dark it looks oily – it could be argued that this is the oil that is corrupting the waters of his mind as we finally cut to the repressed memories. I quite like this reading, though I have little other oil imagery to link it to in the show. The other notable point is the slow-motion fall backwards – instead of showing Sherlock, John and Mycroft all falling, we cut to Sherlock falling backwards exactly like he did in HLV when he was shot by Mary. This is a really clear visual callback. Even though we’re going deeper, we’re linking back to the original shooting, back in reality, suggesting that this depth is paradoxically going to lead us back to the start. To go back to the oil imagery, don’t forget that oil floats on water – although it looks like we’re sinking, there’s a real sense that these repressed memories are actually pulling us to the surface of Sherlock’s subconscious, quite unlike the deep zoom out we saw when Sherlock was destroying the coffin.

And that’s it for part 2 of the TFP meta! Part 3/3 will deal with such highlights as John not being able to recognise bones and presumably getting his feet pulled off by chains. Good thing this is just a dream. See you then!

#meta #emp theory #tjlc

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aion-rsa · 3 years ago

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Marvel Phase 4: Where Does the MCU Go After Black Widow?

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This article contains Black Widow spoilers.

The wait is finally over, as Black Widow has arrived in theaters and on Disney+ to end a two-year drought in which no new movies in the Marvel Cinematic Universe were released. Of course, the powerhouse company kept the flag flying with the premiere of three well-received series on its streaming platform — WandaVision, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, and the outstanding Loki — but the MCU was born on the big screen and there’s something reassuring about seeing it return there.

But now that Black Widow is out more than a year after it was first slated for release, what happens next? Ironically the film that is kicking off the MCU’s long-awaited Phase Four is a look back at the past, the filling in of a chapter in the back story of one of the founding Avengers. But aside from the introduction of the woman who is clearly going to take over as the Black Widow going forward (Florence Pugh’s Yelena Belova) and a key post-credits scene (more on that later), Black Widow doesn’t offer up a ton of insights or clues into the future of the MCU.

For that we have to look ahead.

Now that the pandemic is (hopefully) fading into the rearview mirror, Marvel is getting aggressive with four new movies in the second half of 2021, four in 2022 and anywhere from two to four in 2023. But following Black Widow, the studio’s next two releases are perhaps its riskiest bets since Guardians of the Galaxy defied the odds and became a pop culture phenomenon back in 2014.

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings

Ironically, Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (September 3) harkens back to the earliest days of the MCU, with the Ten Rings organization first mentioned in 2008’s Iron Man. Of course, fans have been waiting for the real Mandarin as well since 2013’s Iron Man 3 fakeout, and they’ll finally get him in the form of brilliant Hong Kong actor Tony Leung. But the focus here is introducing Simu Liu as the title’s master of martial arts and the first Asian character to headline a superhero film — a groundbreaking move that Marvel no doubt would like to have the same response as Black Panther back in 2018.

Shang-Chi has two more unexpected MCU connection points that were revealed in its latest trailer: a brief scene at the end gave us a glimpse of a cage match pitting Doctor Strange right-hand man Wong (Benedict Wong) against the Abomination, a character last seen way back in 2008 in the nearly forgotten The Incredible Hulk. Scattered rumors suggest that the film may take place during the five years of the Blip or Snap or whatever you want to call it, which is how Wong ends up here; either way, he’s one link to the MCU, while the Abomination — also slated to return in Marvel’s upcoming She-Hulk series on Disney+ — is another.

Eternals

It’s hard to tell which Marvel title is more obscure to the general public — Shang-Chi or Eternals, the latter of which arrives on November 5. Based on Jack Kirby’s cosmic tale of immortal humanoid beings called the Eternals waging a secret, ongoing war to protect Earth from the evil Deviants — with both sides the creation of ancient entities known as the Celestials — Eternals is directed by Nomadland Oscar winner Chloe Zhao. Its first trailer gave us a look at a film that doesn’t quite track with anything Marvel has done before, and it remains to be seen how this experiment feeds into the greater path of the MCU.

Spider-Man: No Way Home

There’s nothing obscure about Spider-Man: No Way Home, and the film — the third and possibly last co-production between Marvel and Sony — is expected to be a pivotal one for the MCU with the long-rumored introduction of the multiverse to mainline Marvel canon (although technically Loki has already broached the subject). Tom Holland returns as Spidey, Benedict Cumberbatch appears as Doctor Strange ahead of his own crucial movie in 2022, and while we don’t know yet who the main villain is, it’s the worst kept secret in the biz that Alfred Molina and Jamie Foxx are encoring as Doc Ock and Electro from previous Spider-Man iterations (thanks Al!).

No Way Home is due out in just over five months — on December 17 — and Sony (which controls the marketing for Spidey standalones) has yet to release a second of footage from the film. Has director Jon Watts (also back for his third go-round with the wallcrawler) packed his movie with too many surprises to show us anything at this point?

Each MCU film is important in its own way, but No Way Home may alter the very fabric of the mythology in a fundamental way, as will the movie coming hard on its heels. But before we get to that epic, however, let’s take a brief break and see where things stand with Marvel on the Disney+ platform.

What If…?

With Loki about to close out its run, the next Marvel series will be What If…?, the first official animated series from the MCU. Just like the comics of the same name, the show will feature reimagined events from the history of the MCU, featuring characters like T’Challa, Peggy Carter, Thor, and more. While the show is speculative in nature and will likely have little or no direct connection to the larger MCU, What If…? (premiering August 11) certainly will promote the idea of alternate realities even more and help to pave the way for the emergence of the live-action multiverse later in the year.

Ms. Marvel

Ms. Marvel will introduce the popular teen Kamala Khan (Iman Vellani) from the comics and will also serve as a springboard for the Pakistani-American superhero and Captain Marvel fan to join her idol in The Marvels, which is due out in 2022. Full details about the plot and additional characters have yet to be disclosed, but the six-episode show will continue Marvel’s major push to diversify the MCU.

Hawkeye

We know, thanks to the post-credits scene in Black Widow, that the next Marvel series in the chute, Hawkeye, will directly play off events occurring on the big screen. In that scene, which takes place in the present, Yelena is standing over Natasha’s gravesite (which is presumably empty since she died on Vormir in Avengers: Endgame) when she is approached by Valentina Allegra de Fontaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) about seeking revenge for Natasha’s death against Clint Barton (Jeremy Renner).

Pugh is all but confirmed to appear in the Hawkeye series, which will likely focus on Barton’s recruitment and training of Kate Bishop (Hailee Steinfeld) as the new master of archery for the Avengers. Louis-Dreyfus is not listed in the cast yet, but seems likely to appear as well.

As usual, Marvel is playing its cards close to the vest and will adapt the comic book characters and narratives as it sees fit, but the introduction of heroes and anti-heroes like Bishop, de Fontaine, John Walker/U.S. Agent (from TFATWS), Belova and others point to everything from the Young Avengers to the Thunderbolts and Dark Avengers.

Both Ms. Marvel and Hawkeye are expected in late 2021, with premiere dates TBA.

Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness

With 2021’s theatrical MCU slate focused on introducing both new characters (Shang-Chi and the Eternals) and new concepts (the multiverse), the four titles scheduled to arrive in 2022 will bring out some of the universe’s biggest guns.

First out on March 25 is Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, directed by the great Sam Raimi (Spider-Man), and you can bet that this will be one of the most important titles of Phase Four. It says it right there in the name: the multiverse is coming, and there’s no question that the film will play off events in both Spider-Man: No Way Home and WandaVision, since the Scarlet Witch (Elizabeth Olsen) will be showing up in this movie too (Olsen described the movie to Glamour as having a “horror show vibe”).

Loki head writer Michael Waldron has written the latest draft of Doctor Strange 2, which is very encouraging news, with Rachel McAdams (Christine), Benedict Wong (Wong) and Chiwetel Ejiofor (Mordo) all returning and Xochitl Gomez as America Chavez in the latter’s long-awaited MCU debut. Plot details are non-existent, but we can fully expect this film to have an enormous impact on the MCU as it barrels into the future — or many different futures.

Thor: Love and Thunder

Thor: Love and Thunder will blast its way into theaters after that, on May 6, and promises to be one of the biggest and most fully stacked spectacles of Phase Four. Thor: Ragnarok director Taika Waititi returns, as does Chris Hemsworth (of course), while Natalie Portman will reprise the role of Jane Foster (and also debut as The Mighty Thor) for the first time since 2013’s Thor: The Dark World (not counting her repurposed Endgame footage).

As we said, this looks like a packed film, with the Guardians of the Galaxy showing up as well (for how much of the picture remains to be seen), Tessa Thompson’s Valkyrie, Jaimie Alexander’s Sif, and Jeff Goldblum’s Grandmaster all returning, and Christian Bale making his MCU debut as Gorr the God Butcher. How it might or might not connect to the events happening back on Earth and the introduction of the multiverse is also unknown at this point, but we expect this film to be perhaps even bigger in scope and more outright bonkers than Ragnarok.

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

Also shrouded in perhaps more mystery than usual is Black Panther: Wakanda Forever. But considering the circumstances — losing the lead actor, Chadwick Boseman, who defined the character of T’Challa for tens of millions with just a handful of appearances, it’s something of a miracle that cameras are now actually rolling in Atlanta on this motion picture.

What’s it about? No one knows, but if movies like Doctor Strange 2, Eternals and No Way Home will delve into the cosmic and/or mystical side of the MCU, than we suspect writer/director Ryan Coogler may keep Wakanda Forever firmly rooted in the geopolitical end of the universe, especially since some of Wakanda’s Dora Milaje turned up in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Of course, Marvel geopolitics may involve nations like Latveria or even Atlantis, but that’s another story.

With nearly everyone returning from the first Black Panther — aside, of course, from its newly minted and now fallen king — we suspect that Wakanda Forever (out July 8, 2022) will address the loss of Boseman in a way that is full of grace, heart and majesty. Just don’t ask us how the hell to pull it off.

Captain Marvel 2: The Marvels

As you can see, the further down we get in the schedule, the vaguer the details are. Which brings us to The Marvels, formerly known as Captain Marvel 2. The title makes sense, since Ms. Marvel will cross over to the big screen with this November 11, 2022 release, but we also know that the adult Monica Rambeau (Teyonah Parris) — now imbued with powers of her own — will be coming over directly from WandaVision. From what we recall, Monica wasn’t too pleased every time the name of Carol Danvers was invoked on that show either, so there’s potentially a lot to explore in that relationship.

Nia DaCosta (Candyman) is directing The Marvels, which will also feature Zawe Ashton as a yet-to-be-disclosed villain. With Monica Rambeau and Kamala Khan both in the mix, it seems as if this adventure will be a bit more Earthbound…but don’t forget, the Skrulls are still out there too, which leads to our next section.

Moon Knight

The Marvel Studios series slate on Disney+ gets a little fuzzier once we get into 2022, but we know that Moon Knight, She-Hulk and Secret Invasion are all going to premiere, along with possibly Ironheart, Armor Wars and an untitled Wakanda-based show.

Of those, Moon Knight may have the least direct connection to the overall shape of the MCU in Phase 4. Oscar Isaac will star in the title role, with The Exorcist TV series creator Jeremy Slater as the head writer/creator on this one, but we suspect that Marc Spector and his multiple personalities will pursue his own journey onscreen, at least in the short term.

She-Hulk

She-Hulk may pursue a similar tack, least of all because it’s said to be in a more comedic vein, although it’s confirmed that Tatiana Maslany’s Jennifer Walters will be joined in the show by Marc Ruffalo as Professor Hulk and Tim Roth as Emil Blonsky/Abomination. Does the latter’s now-confirmed appearance in Shang-Chi (or at least a CG version of him) take on greater significance as a result? Or does simply plant a seed for his return in She-Hulk next year? Stay tuned.

Secret Invasion

With Samuel L. Jackson and Ben Mendelsohn returning as Nick Fury and Talos respectively after their stints in Captain Marvel, it’s obvious that Secret Invasion will feed directly off the Skrulls storyline that was started in that film.

While the Skrulls we’ve met in the MCU so far are ostensibly “good guys,” there certainly seems to be room for Fury and Talos to have to defend the Earth from a rogue Skrull faction looking to infiltrate the highest levels of human society and government. “Secret Invasion” was a major Marvel Comics storyline, so it will be interesting to see whether Marvel Studios keeps it contained to this Disney+ series or expands upon it in the movies as well.

Armor Wars

As for the others, Armor Wars is the one we have the most info on, since Don Cheadle has been tapped to lead the show as War Machine. With the show reportedly revolving around the black market for Stark Tech — and Sharon Carter now apparently very much involved in that black market — some elements of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier may find their way into this narrative (same with Ironheart, since that show’s main character, Riri Williams, develops her own version of the Iron Man suit).

Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania

Arriving on February 17, 2023 is a film that could — believe it or not — be the most important of Phase 4. We say “believe it or not” because until now, the first two Ant-Man movies stood largely on their own, with little direct relevance to the bigger MCU storylines.

But with the Avengers traveling through time via the Quantum Realm in Endgame, with the multiverse becoming a major factor in Phase Four, and with the name of the damn movie actually being Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania, we suspect that the true nature and potential of the Quantum Realm will finally be tapped.

But just as importantly, Quantumania will introduce a villain who is very likely to be the big, Thanos-sized baddie of Phases 4 and 5: Kang the Conqueror. With Jonathan Majors confirmed for the role, Kang’s MCU debut has widespread implications for the overall arc of the franchise. Putting in simple terms, he’s intent on conquering the universe and travels freely through time to achieve his goals. In the comics, he’s a descendant of Fantastic Four leader Reed Richards and also has a relationship with Ravonna Renslayer, who we just met on Loki.

While some of this may turn out to be nothing more than Easter eggs deliberately planted by Marvel to make fans nuts (which it does), the truth is that we may even be seeing the seeds of Kang’s agenda right now on Loki, and there’s a very good chance that he will be one of the main antagonists faced by a new iteration of the Avengers either late in Phase 4 or in Phase 5.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3

The galactic end of the MCU will again take center stage in Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3, set for release on May 5, 2023. Writer/director James Gunn has hinted that this is the last film to feature the squad he first assembled in 2014, but other than that — and the long-awaited and heavily hinted debut of Adam Warlock — little is known about the plot except that it will follow the events of Thor: Love and Thunder, in which the Guardians also appear.

Fantastic Four, Blade, Captain America 4, and more!

That is all we have for the known, confirmed MCU Phase 4 movies. Fantastic Four, with Spider-Man director Jon Watts at the helm, is definitely in development, as is a reboot of Blade with Mahershala Ali as the title character. There are also three unfilled Marvel release dates in 2023 — July 28, October 6 and November 10 — so two of those could be filled by those two films, with a third to be determined (possibly Captain America 4? Or Deadpool 3?).

The Big Picture

The MCU is clearly moving along several narrative tracks: the Earthbound, geopolitical drama most clearly defined by movies and shows like Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, Hawkeye and The Falcon and the Winter Soldier; the bizarre multiverse madness of Doctor Strange, Loki and Spider-Man: No Way Home; and the galactic intrigue of Thor: Love and Thunder and Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3.

Lurking in the background of all this is the arrival of Kang; the impending MCU debut of the Fantastic Four — which may lead in turn to the appearance of such major Marvel figures as Doctor Doom, the Silver Surfer and Galactus — and eventually the presence of mutants and the X-Men, who themselves may arrive through the collision of multiple universes.

Whether Marvel Studios chief creative officer Kevin Feige and his team have all this mapped out, and all these narrative strands eventually coalesce, remains hidden from us at the moment. But make no mistake: Phase 4 of the Marvel Cinematic Universe is now underway, and barring unexpected changes, catastrophes or the worst kind of apocalypse of all — the box office kind — it’s going to get a lot bigger.

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Black Widow is out in theaters and available via premium access on Disney+ now.

The post Marvel Phase 4: Where Does the MCU Go After Black Widow? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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resowrites · 2 years ago

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Sherlock Holmes And The Book Of Rhymes - Part 1

Summary: When Cora Beauchamp begins receiving extracts from a book of nursery rhymes by post, the police dismiss her which leaves her only one way to turn. But with no clue as to the sender or the meaning behind them, will the case prove too bizarre even for Mr. Sherlock Holmes?

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (I envisioned Henry’s version but the story could apply to Rathbone right through to Cumberbatch), OC!Cora Beauchamp, Dr. Watson, Mrs. Hudson, OC characters.

Warnings: adult/dark themes such as adultery, occasional threat of violence/danger, some period misogyny/victorian attitudes, angsty, lightly beta’d.

WC: 2132

Links to next parts: Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Part 1:

Cora turned the calling card over in her hands. She'd been holding onto it so tightly that some of its ink had rubbed off on her gloves. But there was no turning back now, she'd made it all the way here and had to see her task through. She knocked quietly on the large black door, half hoping that no one would answer. After several moments, it seemed her wish would come true when she suddenly heard shuffling coming from somewhere in the hallway. Slowly the door peeled back to reveal an elderly woman wrapped in a shawl, her nightcap still pinned to her head. "Yes… how may I help you?" She eyed Cora with no small degree of annoyance. It was barely light outside, even the market sellers weren't up just yet.

"Oh… good morning, I'm sorry to have disturbed you at this hour, but I'm afraid I had no choice… I … I, oh you must help me!" Cora began sobbing desperately into her hands, causing the elderly woman to look around frantically before practically dragging her into the hallway.

"There, there Miss… come into the reception and we'll see if we can't sort this out…" the elderly woman led her more carefully this time into a room just to their right. She hurriedly sat Cora on the nearest chair and went to draw back the plush velvet curtains. Suddenly the room was bathed in a pale light though the elderly woman wrapped her shawl around her tighter. The chill of the morning could now be keenly felt through the thin windows. "Wait here Miss… sorry, what was your name?" Cora looked up and smiled briefly, her face now wet with tears.

"Cora… Cora Beauchamp." The elderly woman nodded and shuffled out of the room only to reappear moments later with a tray full of hot tea and biscuits.

"Here, now… why don't you tell me what has bought you here?" The elderly woman groaned as she sat in the chair opposite Cora, the current weather doing nothing for her aching joints.

"Well… I had hoped to see Mr. Sherlock Holmes…" she looked up hopefully from her tea to see the elderly woman give a knowing smile.

"I'm afraid Mr. Holmes isn't home at present and I don't know when he'll be back. If you leave a calling card I'm sure he'll be happy to see you at the earliest convenience…" Cora frowned, disappointed that she couldn't be squeezed in that morning.

"Very well Mrs… sorry, I didn't quite catch your name either?" The elderly woman smiled again and made a note of something in the notebook beside her.

"Mrs. Hudson… I'm Mr. Holmes's secretary… of sorts." She removed the glasses she'd perched on the end of her nose and took a large draught of tea. Cora rose swiftly to her feet, her tea only half drunk.

"Well… please give him my regards, and be sure to give him my card. My problem really is most urgent, may I check back with you tomorrow to see if he'll meet with me?" Mrs. Hudson couldn't help but note the young woman's nervous manner, she was practically trembling with anxiety.

"Of course, my dear, though don't bother to keep making the trip here. We'll send you a telegraph as soon as we can, though it might help to give me some details of your problem… you understand that Mr. Holmes doesn't simply take on any case. Why don't you sit, and finish your tea…" Cora reluctantly sat back down, not realising she'd been ungracious to her host.

"Yes… I'm sorry, this whole mess really has me quite shaken up. You see, I'm currently being sent these strange letters… well, they're not so much letters as… extracts, from a book of nursery rhymes…" she looked up shyly, feeling foolish at even discussing such a ludicrous notion. But Mrs. Hudson was simply eyeing her carefully. "Here… perhaps you ought to give Mr. Holmes the one I received yesterday morning…" she handed the note to Mrs. Hudson's outstretched hand. "Oh… I feel such a fool for having come here, I'm sure Mr. Holme's would laugh me out of the room!" When it looked as though she was about to burst into tears once again, Mrs. Hudson cleared her throat.

"Now, now Miss. Beauchamp, I'm sure Mr. Holmes will consider your case with the utmost seriousness. He has a fancy for the more unusual problems and I'm sure this one will at least pique his interest. Tell me, have you any idea what might be the cause of these strange letters, or who could be sending them?" Her questions seemed to focus the young woman.

"No… no I have no clue at all. It's why I've come… I'm so desperate for an end to this absurd situation, I'll do anything…" she then stopped herself, aware of what she was implying.

"Oh don't worry my dear, I understand your reasoning. I assume the police want nothing to do with the matter?" Cora shook her head sadly. "Well then, let's hope Mr. Holmes will be willing to help…" she then let out another sob, confounding Mrs. Hudson who, much like her famous tenant, wasn't too keen on outward displays of emotion.

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson… I can't quite explain it but I'm in fear of my life! You know I'm quite on my own… both my parents and brother have passed… oh what am I to do?" Mrs. Hudson said nothing as she handed her a freshly laundered handkerchief. It was then that she looked at her properly. She was exquisitely dressed in very fine silk. Her hat and gloves were also of the latest fashion. She clearly had money then, perhaps an inheritance given her lack of family? And there was something about the name Beauchamp…

"Mrs. Hudson? I really must be getting on… I'm sorry to have disturbed you so early in the morning. But please, do all that you can to see that Mr. Holmes takes my case. I'll be willing to pay whatever he desires… I just want an end to this terrible nightmare!" Cora then rose to her feet, bowed quickly, and practically fled the room. Mrs. Hudson sat blinking several times in disbelief, not knowing quite what to make of the whole situation. Eventually, she sighed and clambered to her feet. She didn't imagine Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson would be back in time for breakfast, but she'd better prepare some just in case.

Later that day.

As expected, Mrs. Hudson had to throw most of the food away. Though she saved the kedgeree for Dr. Watson, she could always reheat it for his tea. So far they'd been no sign of either of them. Usually, if they intended to be away for more than a day at a time they'd telegraph her. So she assumed they'd be back sometime later that afternoon. It was as she was dusting the banister at around four o'clock that she heard the front door burst open. She ran as fast as she could only to see Mr. Holmes practically drag Dr. Watson into the hallway. Blood poured from the top of the doctor's head and she had to stifle her shock. Clearly, they'd been in some terrible scuffle. "Some hot water and towels Mrs. Hudson…" Mr. Holmes spoke casually despite struggling to heave the doctor's bulky frame into the morning room. The doctor was conscious but clearly in pain, moaning the loudest when he was plonked onto the same chair Mrs. Hudson had received Miss. Beauchamp in that morning.

"What on earth happened gentleman? I was beginning to get worried and I see now that it was for good reason…" Mrs. Hudson had scurried back into the room holding a large pitcher in one and a pile of fluffy towels in the other. Seeing her struggle to hold that much, Mr. Holmes jumped up from his seat and relieved her of her burden.

"Some brandy wouldn't go amiss either Mrs. Hudson…" she tried not to roll her eyes as she fetched the key from her apron pocket and made her way to the corner of the room to unlock the drinks cabinet. The two men remained silent, even by the time she was pouring them both a snifter. But she wasn't about to go quietly and repeated her request for information. Mr. Holmes looked up tiredly from the pipe he was refilling.

"Oh… it was all a storm in a teacup really…" Dr. Watson shot him a look of disbelief, "Though I do believe the Langely affair is now at an end…" he sat back in his chair and struck a large match. Dr. Watson scoffed before chugging down most of the brandy in one go. He then winced as Mrs. Hudson began tending to his wounds. Other than some bruising and a nasty cut near his hairline, he was otherwise unharmed.

"Really Holmes… you have a gift for understatement. We spent all night at the docks Mrs. Hudson, only to be ambushed at sunrise. Still, Mr. Holmes believes he caught the man we were looking for…" he winced again as Mrs. Hudson applied alcohol to the cut.

"It's funny you should mention an ambush… the same sort of thing happened to me first thing this morning…" Dr. Watson quickly gripped the old woman by the wrist and examined her carefully.

"What? Are you quite alright my dear? What on earth happened?" Mrs. Hudson bit back a smile as she placed her first aid equipment back on the tray and fetched the calling card and book excerpt from her other pocket. She handed it directly to Mr. Holmes.

"A nice young lady came to visit me… she was most distressed. She's been receiving bizarre excerpts from a book of nursery rhymes. She suspects someone's threatening her though she can't imagine who… anyway, she'd like an appointment with you at your earliest convenience Mr. Holmes…" she trailed off as she watched the detective flick the calling card to the side to scan the nursery rhyme instead.

"Nursery rhymes eh? How bizarre… sounds right up your street Holmes…" Dr. Watson groaned as he sat back, his body was going to ache even more by the following morning. Mrs. Hudson gathered her things, expecting to leave them to it for the rest of the afternoon when Mr. Holmes raised his hand.

"A moment, Mrs. Hudson, did Miss… whoever, give you the envelope for this extract?" Mrs. Hudson sighed, now expecting the third degree.

"No, she did not." She knew what question was coming next.

"And did you not think to ask her for it?" Mrs. Hudson pursed her lips, suddenly missing the quiet that she'd experienced the rest of that day.

"No, I did not. You are the detective, Mr. Holmes, all the lady wanted from me was a simple appointment…" Mr. Holmes smiled and bid her on her way. The two men sat in silence for the next ten minutes until Dr. Watson couldn't stand it any longer.

"Well, Holmes… what do you think?" The Doctor was turning the calling card over in his hands, noting the slight floral scent that came from it… it must have been Mrs. Beauchamp's perfume.

"Well, thanks to Mrs. Hudson's lack of questioning… it seems I have little choice but to see the young lady regardless…" he threw the book excerpt to the side in annoyance.

"Beauchamp… you know I've heard that name. Let me consult the book…" Dr. Watson carefully got up and made his way to the bookshelf. When he found his book on landed gentry, it didn't take him long to find the name Beauchamp, it being near the beginning of the alphabet. "Ah yes… the Beauchamps, it says here they live at Marsham Hall, Oxford. Lord Beauchamp, his wife Lady Cecilia, and their children… Maximilian and Cora. Strange names. Though they're not nouveau riche, says here the hall's been in their family for hundreds of years…" Mr. Holmes didn't lift up his head from its position against the back of the chair. Instead, his eyes remained closed while trails of thick, grey smoke, rose up to the ceiling.

"Probably some harmless prank… you heard Mrs. Hudson, she seemed the hysterical sort. Probably a fuss over nothing, you know how rich young women can be…" Mr. Holmes sighed, disappointed at how it would most likely be some time before he was engaged in another interesting case again.

"That's strange…" but he still didn't look up at the doctor. "It says here that the lord and lady died nearly fifteen years ago… the boy too. Miss Beauchamp is alone in the world then… and with that entire estate to manage…" it was then that Mr. Holmes's eyes shot open.

A/N: Hi guys, as a huge Sherlock Holmes fan of both the original stories and the many series/films, it’s my pleasure to present this new short series. Any feedback is appreciated and Part 2 will be out Thursday at 6pm EST - so I hope you’ll continue to stick around and enjoy more to come!

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

#henry cavill #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fics

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