#watson now is busy kissing holmes

[amypihcs]

Hello my friends! Today's Wake Watson Up day! Our dear doctor might be a bit grumpy!

Well, i'd be grumpy too if my partner woke me up at ass o'clock in a freezing morning. Holmes, i hope you kissed him good morning at the very least.

Poor Watson, cold, knocked out of bed early, no breakfast, even! Holmes, treat your darling a bit better, please!

Oh, apparently the note is from Hopkins calling them for a case! Here's why Holmes is happy and excited

AND STILL SHOULD STOP INSULTING WATSON'S WRITING. Good man Watson replying that way. Oh well, during the beeretirement WATSON will have occasion to criticize HOLMES' writing instead uwu. But back to their case, it's not a moment for bickering, now.

murder.

Uuuh! And an IMPORTANT one! And now that he warmed up with deducing the way Watson shaved with his eyes closed and being an ass to our good doctor, Holmes starts the deductions. Watson would just like to catch some sleep in the train. Can't fault him, toh.

Oh here's Hopkins! Nuu, no more care? You deny Holmes cases? No more case for Holmes? Oh! OH! Ja- No wait. Let's see anyway.

Watson...

this is right on the bistinguished path. Also ouchie, poor girl.

Abused i see. Holmes sees too but lets the topic drop. Not the time, but his spidey senses are tingling.

Holmes, muttering: don't you say Watson is stomping on his foot.

Poor girl again. She's so right. Also thanks acd for having denounced the way it was impossible or very difficult at the time for women to obtain a divorce in England.

Well, yeah, accounts of the mess follows and then a quick question to Theresa, the maid

WHOOOO has balls of steel. And tells our boys to be off. Well, to the dining room.

Poor Holmes. He wanted a nice CASE.

OOOH but he's interested! Well, for starters there's Pavarotti (thank @mostvaliantandmostpround for this) a body on the floor

Ouchie. Well, we can agree he's dead-dead.

And much better like this. An abuser. Great. Holmes' senses were right to tingle.

And Holmes isn't swallowing the burglars explanation.

weeeeird. Did they know someone?

MORE weird. Took few things. And seems UNLIKELY. And ooh? Three glasses? HALLOA!

He's INTERESTED. Very interested. Watson stop staring at him in that way, please, those are the original heart eyes™.

And a little deduction to raise the morning's morale, just to say!

But he's still Sad about the lack of interesting case for now... Poor Holmes, well, Hopkins is a nice man and knows how to do his job! Why shouldn't Holmes give him credit?

And now sorry... Watson has something to do

Like a detective to convince it's time for lunch (sent the letter around midday). He'll tell the rest of the story in another letter.

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Signs

They were subtle. You needed to pay close attention to see them. Most people didn’t, but that was not important. The pair that mattered, when it came to perceiving these signs, had learned to read them as others read the newspaper.

***

It started not long after they met at Barts. They walked down Baker Street from the tube station. Sherlock’s expression soured when he saw the black door.

“What is it?” John asked, already fine-tuned to his flatmate’s moods. 

They tended to have a ripple effect on how the rest of the day went.

“My brother is here,” Sherlocks said darkly.

“How do you know that?” John asked and looked up to see if anyone was standing by the window upstairs. 

Nothing.

“Look. Observe!” Sherlock demanded.

“Oh,” John said after a few seconds. “The knocker is straight.”

“Good man,” Sherlock praised. “I always keep it askew to know when he’s here. He can’t stand to see anything out of place.”

“So, he always straightens it before he comes in,” John finished with a chuckle.

“Indeed,” Sherlock beamed. “Knew you’d get there.”

***

A cup of cold tea at the table beside his chair, or on the kitchen table, was another sign. Even if Sherlock forgot he’d asked for tea or said he wanted a cuppa when John asked him, John always provided them without fail. He never complained that Sherlock forgot. 

It’s alright. I know you’re busy, but I want you to know that I’ll make as many cups as you’ll like. Because I care.

***

Hot baths when the weather was damp and cold, and they’d been out solving crimes for far too long. Without even asking, Sherlock filled the tub with scolding hot water for John.

Here, I’m proving that I’m not a sociopath. I would be lost without you. Now, let this bath heal your old wound so you’ll be fit to follow on my heels when a new adventure comes our way.

***

After a while, a sinister ploy almost forced them apart.

“Run, Sherlock! Save yourself. I’m a soldier. You’re not. Run, for Christ’s sake. Save that brilliant brain of yours!”

Eyes locked. An entire conversation took place over a span of seconds.

I’m not going anywhere. I will go to hell and back with you, John Watson.

“Told you you had a heart, Sherlock,” a sing-song voice echoed through the tiled room.

***

Frantic movements, thoughts of a loved one’s demise if you weren’t quick enough made hands tremble, heart racing, tears flowing. Finally, the parka with the bomb was torn off John and flung across the floor.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Answer me, John!”

Hands roaming over a body he’d barely touched before.

“Fine, Sherlock. Not hurt, just a bit shaken. Stop it! Breathe, Sherlock.”

A hug, so tight it made it hard to breathe for both of them.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

“People will talk.” 

“I don’t care!”

A tentative kiss, turning desperate.

I have loved you for so long. Please, don’t let this scare you. I need you in my life. To function. To thrive. To feel whole.

***

At a crime scene. Deciding on the next cause of action. A nod, eyes meeting, a ghost of a smile showing off a dimple.

Ready? Always. Follow me, then. Right beside you.

***

The ripple effect of their extraordinary relationship reached far and wide. Every newspaper in the country at first. They told the story of a consulting detective and his loyal blogger, his doctor, his soldier. It didn’t feel right to say one name without the other anymore. They were an item now, in every capacity of the word. 

When there was a crime unsolvable to the police, the tall and handsome detective appeared like a whirlwind. By his side, the unassuming blogger, doctor, soldier radiated calmness. But by now everyone knew that hidden behind that collected façade, was a man ready to run after the mad detective, protecting him from harm’s way, kill if necessary.

News travel fast, and before long the entire world had heard of the great Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson. A pair every criminal feared, and yet some of them always thought they could outwit them with their ingenious scheme. To date, no one has been successful in their endeavours.

--------------------------------------------------------------

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @helloliriels

@raina-at @meetinginsamarra @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitch-adler @topsyturvy-turtely

@jolieblack @peanitbear @phoenix27884 @bs2sjh @brandiwein1982

@meandhisjohn @a-victorian-girl @221beloved @ninasnakie @shy-bi-letsfuckingdie

@7-percent @lhrinchelsea @missdeliadilisblog @salmonsown @oetkb12

@jawnscoffee @gay-ass-bitch @acumberlockedgirl @willamholmeswatson @whatnext2020

@mydogwatson @redmondcollege @thegildedbee @ilovegayangels @elizabethhood

@xmengal03 @riversong912 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @couldbecannibal @2old2b-fangirl

@dw91165 @jonkwatson @binx72

(Tell me if you want to be tagged or removed from the list)

[leosficlist]

Johnlock Fluff rec list Part 2!

Back again! Here are some stories of getting together, and fluffy domestic warm fuzzy feelings!

Fluff 1, Fluff 3 , Fluff 4

The Barter System by brbsoulnomming 6.9k words

“Sherlock and John form a bartering system. Well, Sherlock does, anyway.”

notes: sharing clothes, getting together, includes a first time but overall feels fluff

A Long December by LondonSpirit 3.1k words

John and Sherlock get snowed in, Sherlock doesn't feel well and John looks after him.

notes: first kiss, bed sharing for warmth

Hope Springs Eternal by QuinnAnderson 4k words

John Watson and Sherlock Holmes go on holiday, and Sherlock has romance on the brain.

notes: Sherlock being romantic, first kiss/time

The Source of Light by bookjunkiecat 4k words

During the outbreak of the virus, John, as medical personnel, is essential on the medical frontlines. This means a necessary separation from his loved ones. Stretched thin, exhausted, he nevertheless makes time for a Skype call with Sherlock and Rose. Even though all he wants is to finally tell Sherlock how much he loves him, now isn't the time. Circumstances, however, don't always work as we expect.

notes: parentlock, COVID-19 mention

Insomnia by youtextd 4.4k words

Sherlock and John can't sleep.

notes: love filled getting together, first time

So, this is normal for us now? by TooManyChoices 1.4k words

John and Sherlock have been sharing a flat, and a life for some time. This is a story of how the glacially slow movement of their relationship makes another agonising crawl forward another inch.

notes: bed sharing, mentions sex but no smut

It’s In The Details by KimbiaBlue 4.2k words

“I’d like for us to meet with a forensic artist, to determine how capable we are of describing one another to a perfect stranger, should there be a need in future.”

In which John struggles to adequately describe Sherlock Holmes, and also thinks about his lips a lot.

notes: post-mary, no baby mention

Nothing So Sweet by @alexxphoenix42 5.2k

In an alternate universe, Sherlock is busy keeping to himself, tending his bees, and selling lovely jars of honey when a soldier limps into his life quite unexpectedly.

notes: au, first date first time fluff

and stand there at the edge of my affection by coloredink 2.6k

"You've written love letters," Sherlock asserted.

A Bit of Spring by Avice 3.3k words

Sherlock is in love and almost buys flowers. John is confused until a good old fumble in the dark helps him see the light.

notes: sherlock in love, jealous john, trapped together first kiss, first time

A hiccup in the plan by jamlockk 1.3k words

"In retrospect, it might have happened anyway. As it was, circumstances converged to create conditions conducive to finding himself trapped in a small space, pressed close to his half-furious, half-laughing flatmate, trying desperately to stop the undignified squeaks erupting from his esophagus. Sherlock later reflected that, if he'd known that's all it would take for John to kiss him, he'd have got stuck in a cupboard on a stake out long ago."

34 Minutes by bendingsignpost 4.6k words

An experiment in eye contact.

notes: truly lovely

Wish I Was in Heaven Sitting Down by @blogstandbygo 3.2k words 🔒

Five times when Sherlock and John ate together, and one time they didn't. A history of the boys, in food.

notes: through the years til post s4, minorly hurt john

The Trouble With Being Subtle by Victory Candescence 5.4k words

In which Sherlock experiments, John misinterprets, and everyone else stands back and waits for the light to turn on.

notes: Sherlock is bad at flirting

[fruitviking]

Fic ending tag game

Rules: post the last sentence/s from your 10 most recently posted fics (less if you don't have 10 is also fine)!

1. Nothing Without My Boswell

He closed the door behind us, and there was peace.

2. The Hound of Baskerville

Either way, you’ll hear from me again in the next few days.

John.

3. Sherlock Holmes and the Musgrave Crown

In that perfectly ordinary, ordinarily perfect moment, far from magical crowns or secret riddles or anything else, I was content.

4. Up In Our Bedroom After The War

“I did.” The song pauses while Holmes shifts beneath him. “I felt it was all I could offer.”

“You didn’t have to offer anything.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” says Holmes, holding him tighter.

5. The Case of the Feline Incursion

Holmes looked up. “What is it?”

“Nothing, my dear fellow. I was only thinking that we may no longer be able to accurately call ourselves bachelors.”

6. Watson is a Time Lord

I spent the day out and about on various errands, knowing Holmes required seclusion and solitude in his hours of intense mental concentration, and returned that evening to a sitting room immersed in a thick miasma of tobacco smoke.

Thankfully, not being human, I can avoid having to breathe when absolutely necessary.

7. In Another Life

“I would hardly call this imprisonment!” I am laughing now, too. “But if that is so, how long is my sentence? How many years do I have left?”

Holmes leans down to murmur in my ear. “How many would you like, dear fellow?”

I turn my head so I can look him in the eye. “As many as we have, I think.”

8. Scenes from a Sussex Garden

Reverently, Watson folded back the veil of the beekeeping hat and leaned in for a soft kiss. Somewhere overhead a blackbird trilled. He clasped both Holmes’s hands in his, their fingers intertwined, their new wedding bands clinking together gently.

They were made of gold, but there were sparks.

9. Another Day

If all Holmes wants to do is sit quietly and listen to the bees at the windows and the cows in the distant fields, well. Watson is only too happy to oblige him.

It certainly beats running for their lives. This is a beautiful place to be.

10. Across the Watsonverse

“Right you are.” Watson nodded, all business once again, and began to follow me out of the tent. On the way we met with the extremely confused man who ran the shooting gallery game, but neither of us hung about very long to answer his questions. I expect he thought the machinery had exploded; it certainly appeared that way.

- - -

Tagging @blistering-typhoons, @amypihcs, @rudbeckiasunflower, @jeremys-come-to-bed-eyes, @teaspoonnebula, and whoever else wants to take part!

[twifairy]

Actually fuck it who wants a list of the genklintville/baskerzieks/genklint (and Genshin's wife) fic ideas i have in my drafts!! I will tell you about them!

Also a few gen fics related to those characters:

Gen fics but related to Genshin/Klint/Baskerville

AU where Mikotoba and Sholmes witness Baskerville murdering Stronghart and let her get away with it. Charles Augustus Milverton scene rewrite

Barok and Kazuma discussing what kind of person Lady B was

Genshin has a challenge— a reward for any Scotland Yard inspector who can guess the story behind how he got his ring. When nobody figures it out, he tells Klint.

Dynamic study with Genshin, Courtney, Stronghart, and Klint

Genshin and his wife

Relationship study because I don't think they were in love but I think they were interesting

Same as the last one but it's a study of his wife after Genshin dies

Baskersogi (I've decided that's their ship name bc it's funny sounding)

Just the two of them discussing marriage and the law and love. Yknow like how Arthur Conan Doyle always complains about divorce law.

Baskerzieks:

Klint introducing Stronghart to ✨️💖his beautiful wife💖✨️ because Stronghart would be soooo annoyed. I need them to be so in love i need to leave the room. I need them to be GROSS.

First kiss fic. Historical repressed romance yknow how it is. I just like when they are extremely in love and happy and sweet to each other, it makes the tragedy even better when it hits imo

First meeting fic. I think Klint should find smart people extremely attractive and Lady Baskerville is a GENIUS.

baskerzieks fluff ficlet I cut out of my Professor Killings fic

Genklint:

Dead Klint reviewing his own crime scene but he's a little too proud of Genshin?

Ghost Klint. Haunting Genshin's holding cell. Or maybe Genshin's losing it.

Companion piece to the Professor killings fic, because it's more bskz heavy

Fic I wrote because there will be simultaneous Baskersithe shenanigans

Early friendship— Genshin is assigned busy work that ends up being acting as Klint's bodyguard when he does not need one. Based on Watson having to stick around Henry Baskerville in HOUN

"Why did you kill all those people" "My beloved detective is like 80% of my impulse control."

Genklintville:

Stronghart is trying to find details on Klint's life to manipulate him with and asks Genshin if he knows anything about Baskerville. He lies.

Double drabble of them working late together on case notes.

Ghost genklint, a bit of grieving when they realize their beloved Lady Baskerville is about to die

getting together fic??

Me using my historical corsetry knowledge for evil (to bully Genshin Asogi with)

Christmas! Up now!

Baskerville has noticed her husband's huge dumb stupid dumb idiot crush on Genshin and she is going to Do Something about it.

Genklintville rewrite of The Second Stain with Genshin in Holmes' place and Barok in Watson's. I think Baskerville deserves to be a little insane too.

I am the Director of Prosecutions, I did not forget about our meeting— I am not blushing, detective. So what if I am in good spirits because my fiancée came to visit m— lipstick? No. You must be mistaken, I checked— I mean a gentleman would NEVER have an unmarried lady's makeup on his face. That's absurd— STOP LAUGHING.

[the-power-of-a-pen]

Make a Wish

Fandom: Sherlock Holmes

Summary: Sherlock refused to tell you his birthday, so you took matters into your own hands.

Word Count: 1470

Pairing?: Sherlock Holmes x gender-neutral reader (romantic - established)

Trigger Warnings: None.

A/n: First fic in a few years. Let me know what you think!

"Sherlock? When is your birthday?"

He briefly looked up from the morning papers to answer you. "You're the partner of one of the greatest detectives in the world and you haven't figured it out?"

You stuck your tongue out at him. "Most people just tell their partners their birthday."

"Well, I'm not most people. Besides, does it really matter?"

"Of course it matters," you exclaimed. "I want to celebrate the day that my boyfriend was born."

Sherlock hummed in response, but otherwise did not acknowledge your statement.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" you asked.

"I appreciate the thought, my darling, but I am far too busy to celebrate something as trivial as my birthday.

Internally sighing, you decided to play his mind game. If he wanted to be difficult, you'd be worse. "You're not too busy for me."

This caught his attention, and it took everything in you not to grin. He put the newspaper down. "I'm never too busy for you."

You ambled over to Sherlock and leaned over him, your hands on the arms of his chair. "Are you sure?"

Sherlock stared at your lips as though he were stuck in a trance.

"Love?"

He inhaled sharply and came to. "Hm? Yes, I'm sure. My work is important, but not more important than the people I love."

"Then you'd understand how important it is to show that love," you reasoned.

Sherlock smiled softly. "You already show me that you love me."

"Now who's an overachiever?" he smirked.

Feeling your control of the situation slipping, you gave one final attempt. "Can you at least tell me what you want for your birthday?"

"You."

"You already have me."

"A kiss from you, then," he replied simply.

You deadpanned at him. "That's not a real gift. And it brings us right back to square one: what day is your birthday? Otherwise, I won't know when to give you your gift."

"I guess you'll just have to kiss me everyday, then," he grinned.

"Sherlock-"

He cut you off by pulling you onto his lap and pressing a sweet, long kiss onto your lips, leaving you breathless.

"Just like that," he said, as though unfazed.

You decided that you could live with defeat for a while if this was your reward.

------

You cornered John when he came over for tea that afternoon.

"John-"

"No, I'm sorry, but I am not getting involved in your relationship problems."

You chuckled. "What makes you think Sherlock and I are having problems?"

John hung up his overcoat and hat, saying, "He sent me a telegram earlier telling me not to give you any details on his younger life. That's enough of a sign for me."

"No, John, you misunderstand. Sherlock just doesn't want to tell me his birthday."

"Oh," he blinked. "Well-"

"John! A moment please?" Sherlock called from round the corner.

John mouthed "sorry" and followed Sherlock into the dining area.

You sighed and boiled some water on the stove, but by the time you had brought tea for the three of you and were getting up to throw away the trash, Watson had scribbled a note on a napkin that read "F of A, AHED."

Sherlock was in the midst of explaining his latest case, and didn't notice you sneak a glance at John's writing. You stepped outside to take out the trash and decipher the code. It was unmistakeable: 6th of January, 1854.

------

"You've known him longer, John. What do you usually get him for his birthday?"

John had agreed to help you run errands while Sherlock slept in for once, and this dreaded task was the last thing on your to do list.

"Well, considering that I follow him around everywhere, across countries and continents risking my life to solves the cases he's dedicated to without so much as a single doubt," he began, "I find that an annual card at a random time of the year is quite acceptable."

You sighed and scratched your neck, a habit that you had picked up whenever you were stressed or irritated. "I need to get him something special. Something that really shows him that I'm in it for the long run."

"You've dated and dealt with him for about 2 years," John pointed out. "I don't think he doubts your loyalty."

You pressed your lips together. "If your boyfriend was the world's greatest detective who runs on adrenaline and ambition, what would you get him?"

"A therapist," John remarked.

"How helpful," you scoffed. Taking a seat on a nearby bench, you tried to massage some warmth back into your hands. "But seriously, what would he enjoy? A scarf? A plant? A goddamn encyclopedia?"

John stuffed his hands into his pockets and sat down next to you. "Just follow the good old advice. Give him something from the heart."

"Does Holmes keep you around for those groundbreaking remarks of yours?"

Watson laughed. "You're lucky I like my friends to have snark, or both you and Holmes would be out of luck."

You sat in comfortable silence for a while before daring to voice your idea. "Sherlock loves music, right?"

"Of course. Maybe get him something music-themed."

"Well, my first idea was to get him a music box," you admitted, "But I thought it was too small and low-effort, and I wouldn't even know what song to get him, so..."

"So?" John prodded.

"I wondered how bad of an idea it would be to ask Mycroft?" you asked shyly.

He stared at you for a while, dumbfounded. "Have you gone mad?"

You shrugged, picking some lint off of your coat. "I want to get this gift right."

"So, yes, you've gone mad," he confirmed to himself. "What makes you think he'll help you?"

"It may not look like it, but he does love Sherlock," you smiled. "He also spent some of the most vulnerable years with him, before you. I think he'll see it as his way of... apologizing, in some anonymous way."

"Your death sentence," John acquiesced. "Let me know how that goes for you."

------

You woke up on the 6th of January to Sherlock being dead asleep from a long night of research and used your opportunity accordingly. First, you made his favorite tea and breakfast on a tray and brought it to his nightstand. You gently stirred him awake and kissed his forehead, to which he responded by pulling you on top of him.

"Good morning, my love," you whispered. "And happy birthday."

He pulled away slightly to look at your face, clearly impressed that you had figured it out. "Thank you, dear."

Barely controlling your excitement, you jumped off of the bed and urged him to have his birthday breakfast. He obliged, and asked you to tell him about your aspirations and dreams.

You talked idly for a while, but the moment that he finished his tea, you rushed right out of the room to grab his gift.

"It isn't much," you prefaced. "But I thought you might like it."

You presented him with a cedar music box and sat down at his desk, awaiting his reaction.

He took the gift from you tenderly and opened it to find a violinist figurine in the back, spinning to some classical music. In the box, you had written a note that said, To my light and my love. May this box bring you joy and teach you to declutter your desk so you don't have to use mine. He set the box down on the bed and turned away for a moment.

You approached slowly, a bit concerned and hugging your robe tighter around yourself. "So, what do you think?"

He turned back around, and you noticed that he was wiping tears from his eyes and smiling. "How did you know that Paganini was my favorite composer?"

You grinned. "Wild guess. I take it that means that you like your gift?"

"I love it." He wrapped you in a warm hug. "I love you."

"I love you, too," you murmured into his shoulder. After a moment: "Oh, I almost forgot."

You rushed downstairs again, and came up with a cupcake with a candle in it and a lighter.

Sherlock sighed in content. "You didn't have to do all of this for me."

"I wanted to," you replied, lighting the candle. "Now hush and make a wish, or I'll get all of Baker Street to sing happy birthday to you."

"Alright, easy on the threats," he chuckled. Sherlock closed his eyes and envisioned a smaller, black box in his future, wishing for a good omen. Then, he blew the flame out.

"What did you wish for?" you asked. "And don't give me that superstition crap, because we both know you don't believe in it."

Sherlock smiled and shook his head. "You'll see soon enough, sweetheart."

[my-head-is-an-animal]

J Is Just A Letter

Chapter 2 - H.O.L.M.E.S.

Mycroft waited for weeks, months went by and Sherlock became a priority with his usual antics, it was enough to distract him for a while. But each night he went home, he thought about the black and white photographs kept in the top drawer of his desk.

Some nights he would just gaze at them, noting every patch of skin he could see, wondering what she would look like up close, hoping secretly that she would pay him another visit. He was especially taken with her slender neck and collarbone. He tried not to let his little fantasies get too graphic, but the idea of kissing her neck and listening to her sigh against his ear was a difficult one to shake.

He entered his office one idle morning, noting he had comparatively very little to occupy his time, a few meetings with MI6 agents, some paperwork to do and a visit to Buckingham Palace was on the cards, but unless something extravagant happened, he could devote a little time to catching up with John Watson and find out if Sherlock was up to anything unusual.

Mycroft settled behind his desk and began reading through a file, when he noticed something across the room. A painting. One he’d placed there months previous of a Victorian household, the painting was busy and was enough to stimulate his mind from time to time, but something about it was out of place. He stood up and wandered over to it. His eyes scanned every single part of the painting, it wasn’t the one he’d placed there, this one had been made especially for him with subtle differences.

Where there should have been a maid scrubbing the floor, she was now reading a book and had a name badge that read ‘Alex’. Where there should have been the emblem for a member of the British army on the soldier beret, it was the faces of Mount Rushmore. On the wall was a painting of Stone henge instead of a farmhouse in a field. On the table, there were mini Eiffel towers instead of salt shakers as well a strange little green statue, that Mycroft had to rack his brain to find; and finally, the symbol for the tube appeared as one of the toys the children were playing with.

Mycroft opened his door and called for Anthea to give him the current whereabouts of J.

‘I’m not sure sir, we’re not currently tracking her.’

‘We should be tracking her every minute of every day.’ Mycroft said, angrily. ‘She’s about to do something in several locations, we need to be ready.’

Anthea made the calls and came around her desk to look at the painting, she couldn’t see anything wrong with it.

‘I know this painting like the back of my hand,’ Mycroft said, carefully. ‘Every single part of it, so any minor change is like a fly in the ointment.’

‘What’s changed, sir?’

Mycroft proceeded clockwise around the painting. ‘Maid on the floor is reading a book and has the name badge Alex: Library of Alexandria. Up on the wall, it’s a small painting of Stone henge. On the table we have saltshakers in the shape of Eiffel Towers, as well as a statue of a praying mantis carved out of a green gemstone and currently on display at the Hermitage Museum in Russia. Then on the soldier’s beret, instead of an army emblem, it’s the faces of Mount Rushmore. And finally on the floor the children appear to be playing with a toy resembling the underground tube system.’ Mycroft was glad she was writing this down. ‘J is going to grab our attention once again by targeting these locations, I have no idea what she’ll do, but we will need to keep our wits about us. She’ll start with the Hermitage Museum, move on to Oxford Circus, then the Library, Mount Rushmore, The Eiffel Tower and Stone Henge.’

‘How do you know it’ll be oxford circus? She could pick any of the stations?’ Anthea finished writing.

‘Because she’s spelling “Holmes.” Last time it was Mycroft and now it’s Holmes.’

‘Trying to get your attention, sir.’ Anthea said in a rather annoying way.

‘Mm.’ Mycroft hummed to himself.

‘Sounds like she might be a fan.’ Anthea got on and made the calls, but Mycroft had a very bad feeling.

‘I told you “no”.’ He said to himself, still observing the detail of the painting. ‘One can only assume you didn’t take it well.’

‘Sir, the Museum has already been hit.’ Anthea said. ‘One of our undercover operatives has just been found with the mantis tied… to his head?’ Anthea had to make sure she heard it correctly. ‘He’s currently being transported back to the British Embassy, but he says he has a message for you sir.’

‘What is it?’

Anthea listened carefully. ‘He said “Are you paying attention?”’ Anthea looked a little worried.

‘Maximum surveillance on Oxford Circus tube station, I want to know everything that’s going on there before J has a chance to-‘

‘It’s too late.’ Anthea interrupted. ‘Another undercover operative has been found tied to the end of one of the cars… sir, she’s hit them all at once.’

Mycroft closed his eyes, exhausted. There were a few undercover operations he had going in several of those locations, all of them of the highest secrecy and all of them now disrupted by one woman flirting. He sighed and straightened himself up, heading to the surveillance room where Lady Smallwood was waiting.

‘Lady Smallwood, I wasn’t expecting you.’ Mycroft observed her and suddenly realised he would hate whatever was about to come out of her mouth next.

‘Mycroft.’ She said, stepping towards him. ‘Seems you’ve got yourself a fan.’

‘A flirt more like.’ Anthea said, not so quietly as she walked past, getting to work.

‘Quite.’ Lady Smallwood agreed. ‘I thought you said she was harmless.’

‘She was.’ Mycroft said, hating every second he spent discussing J. ‘Until she came to my office, told me what she wanted and I said “no”.’

‘She was here, in this building! Why didn’t you arrest her?’

‘Because she was sitting in my office whilst a safehouse in Tokyo was burning.’ Mycroft explained. ‘There was nothing at any of the sites that led us directly to her and unfortunately we are dealing with an intelligent woman who seems to have endless resources and a talent for uncovering secrets. I imagine the court case would not have lasted long and the result may have been a lot worse.’

‘Perhaps.’ Smallwood looked back towards the screens displaying each of the locations that J had hit. ‘What is it she wants?’

‘To open doors.’ Mycroft sighed, knowing he couldn’t hand that kind of power over to someone so destructive.

‘What doors?’

‘Every door.’

‘Ambitious then.’ Smallwood was starting to get the gravity of it. ‘Not even MI6 knew about every operation we had going on out there, so how did she?’

‘Her resourcefulness knows no bounds.’ Mycroft had no idea how she found out about all of these operations, but it was disruptive and damaging at best. ‘Read the rest of the messages.’ He ordered whoever was closest which happened to be Anthea.

‘Hermitage: “Are you paying attention?” Oxford Circus: “Let’s have dinner.” Library of Alexandria: “I want to hear you say yes to me.” Mount Rushmore: “Your suit looks nice today, it would look better on the floor.”’ Mycroft rolled his eyes in annoyance at that one, but it did start a flurry of fantasies in the back of his mind. ‘Eiffel Tower: “Are you still thinking about me?” Stonehenge: “I’m not hungry, let’s have dinner.”’

Everyone took a moment, waiting for Mycroft’s reaction.

‘Well,’ Lady Smallwood spoke up to break the silence. ‘I think we all know what she really wants.’ The room tried not to laugh.

‘She’s bored.’ Mycroft concluded. ‘Perhaps it is time to look at striking a deal with her. I imagine if I say no again, it won’t just be some undercover agents she’ll reveal, but something much more extravagant.’

‘You’re not seriously considering giving her access to-‘

‘Of course not, but I think I might be starting to understand what she really wants.’ Mycroft mused. ‘A resource like that could prove invaluable.’

‘You want to bring her onside.’ Smallwood concluded.

‘It’ll take some time and the right deal will need to be struck, but I think it’s worth a go.’ Mycroft nodded.

‘What if she says no?’

‘Then I’ll arrest her.’ Mycroft smiled pleasantly before leaving the surveillance room to head back to his office.

He took a moment before entering, wondering if she was yet again waiting for him. He slowly opened the door and looked to where she had been sitting last time to see nothing out of the ordinary. J hadn’t paid him a visit this time.

He checked his desk in case she’d left anything, a note or a sign she was there, but there was nothing, nothing out of place, nothing to indicate anything had been disturbed.

Mycroft sighed and sat down thinking hard on what he could do to convince her to come onside and work for the British government. It would be a hard sell and he would have to make it worthwhile, but surely anything she wanted he could secure easily enough.

He spent the rest of the day dealing with the aftermath of J’s damaging little tantrum and finally found the time to go home and get ready for another day. He was just about to walk out the door when something caught his eye once again. The painting. He took a step back to look at it and realised that the original painting belonging to him had been returned. A small note was hanging just behind it, the paper sticking out of the corner of one side. Mycroft slowly slid it out from behind the painting, it was a phone number, presumably J’s. He pocketed the note and finally left for home.

If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!

Main Story

Mycroft Holmes Masterlist

[zealouscanonindeer]

13. Paid in full

Mr Cartwright did not, of course, kill me that day; my impending death was warded off by the three police officers catching hold of Mr Cartwright and wrestling him back into the sitting room while Emily smuggled me out the back door. I asked her to fill in the police on the finer points of our investigation in my absence and kissed her hand in farewell

I hurried around to the front yard in time to intercept McKinley and son as they tried to make good their escape while the police were otherwise busy. I tripped McKinley with my stick as he ran towards one of the cabs, knocking him out cold on the walk, and made my own escape in the same vehicle.

Watson was cleared of all charges and released that night, though his watch was kept as evidence in the trial; all the same he was grateful to return to our rooms on Baker Street. It was, of course, comforting to me to have my old friend back, though I had pushed my concerns to the back of my mind during the investigation.

It was not until two weeks later that I received any compensation for this case. I was sitting in my favourite wicker chair after breakfast, engaged in an activity that Watson called napping but which I preferred to think of as meditating, when Mrs. Hudson brought up the late morning post. As Watson flipped through the various bills and letters of entreaty, a name caught my attention.

"What was that last one, Watson?" I asked, not opening my eyes just yet.

"It appears to be an invitation, addressed to both of us."

"From whom?"

"A Mr Edmund Cartwright."

I smiled to myself. "Open it, please. This may prove interesting."

I heard him open the invitation - it sounded like expensive stationary, possibly even parchment. "'You are cordially invited to attend a soiree at the Cartwright Estate to honour Miss Emily Cartwright,'" he read, "Good heavens, Holmes! It doesn't say it directly, but I think we've been invited to his daughter's debutante tonight!"

"Small wonder," I remarked, "considering her first one was ruined by a burglary - the one that led to your being arrested, you may recall."

"Ah, yes. How could I forget? So do you plan to go?" he asked dubiously. He knew me well enough that I was not a social creature.

"You have frequently told me that I need to get out more. I expect this would be an ideal opportunity to do so."

"Holmes, are you feeling all right?"

"Never better. Why do you ask?"

He sighed. "You've been a bit out of sorts lately... and I've never seen you perk up so much at the idea of a social gathering."

"I did not perk," I growled, a bit defensively.

"I thought you did."

"Then you were mistaken."

"Very well, Holmes," he resigned, though there was a note of something slightly false in his voice.

*****

We arrived at the soiree at precisely eight o'clock that evening, dressed in our evening clothes. I acknowledged Leopold with a nod as our cloaks and hats were taken by the attendant. He glanced at my boutonniere - a fresh orchid - with a raised eyebrow but made no comment. The flower had been an absolute pain to find, but I thought it would be a nice touch.

I surmised that the only reason we had been invited was at Emily's urging, considering her father's attitude towards me when I'd left at the close of the investigation. As was my habit when I didn't expect to be otherwise intellectually stimulated by a situation, I started picking out people at random and making deductions about them.

One gentleman, for example, suffered from a slight inflammation in the right shoulder, to judge by the way he carried that arm close to his body and used his non-dominant left hand to gesture and such. Another middle-aged gentleman was having a falling-out with his wife, who was now neglecting such minor services as informing her husband that he missed a spot shaving... just there, in the hollow of his jaw. And there...

I stopped short and inhaled sharply when I reached the next subject of observation. I nudged Watson with my elbow.

"Tell me, Watson," I said to him, "What do you deduce about the young lady in the blue dress?"

Watson peered at her as discreetly as he could, trying not to look like he was staring.

"Well," he said finally, "Her husband is very well-off, if she can afford such a nice dress. French, to judge by the neckline."

"Yes, I believe such decolletage, as they call it, is a recent import amongst the fashionable. Why do you say she is married?"

"Well, she's in her twenties, it looks like. And she's a very attractive young woman. I imagine she was married fairly early on."

"Yes, but I don't see a ring of any sort."

"By Jove, you're right," he said as he looked closer, "I wonder why she hasn't married?"

We watched in silence as a young man approached her and attempted to engage her in conversation. During their brief encounter, he showed her something that sparkled - probably an offering of jewelry - but she brushed him off with an abrupt wave of one gloved hand and a few sharp words and walked away.

"Well," Watson concluded, "That answers that. She seems like quite a heart- breaker, if this is a regular occurrence."

"Oh, I don't know about that," I said whimsically, "You can ask her if you like, though. She's coming this way."

Watson froze in mortification as Miss Emily Cartwright strolled towards the two of us. Blue quite suited her, I thought, as did the smile and the slight blush when she noticed the orchid.

"Good evening, Miss Cartwright," I said, kissing her proffered hand.

"Good evening, Holmes - and I said before that you could call me Emily."

I shot a quick glance at Watson, who was smirking.

"Perhaps you would like to introduce your friend?" Emily prompted, saving me from an explanation I didn't wish to provide just then.

"Yes, of course. Miss Cartwright, may I present to you my friend Dr John Watson. Watson, this is Miss Emily Cartwright, who aided the investigation in your absence."

"Charmed," Emily said as she and Watson clasped hands.

"I expect Holmes must have given you quite a run for your money," said Watson.

"Not as much as you might think," she smiled, "I don't need to be cushioned from a rousing adventure like that. And I certainly don't need to be patronised by the well-meaning." Her manner was pleasant enough, but I heard a note of warning in her words that reminded me of something she'd said earlier.

"Is that what happened to Michael?" I asked, and had the satisfaction of seeing her look surprised by my recall.

"No," she finally said, "Michael was at the last gathering. He'd had a bit too much to drink and he tried to corner me and put his hands where they had no business being. So I dislocated his knee."

Had Watson been taking at drink at that moment, I expect he would have sprayed it over whomever was standing nearby, such was his expression.

"A scream of protest probably would have sufficed," I said wryly.

"Well, of course I screamed," she said, "but by that point so did he."

"It's the strangest coincidence," Watson finally said, "Do you know that when I was out that night I treated a young man with that exact injury? I was passing by in a cab and I saw two men carrying him to another carriage. Of course my physician's Oath dictated that I had to help where I could, so I jumped out to see what was the matter. He was rather incoherent, though, and he smelled of alcohol."

"That couldn't be why you were so vague about it," I remarked.

"No," Emily concurred, "It was probably the hatpin."

Watson looked at her and turned scarlet. "Yes... well, that was an operation I felt better suited to a proper hospital," he said, choosing his words with care, "Considering its location."

Even a man without my powers of deduction could have combined that statement with the respective expressions on Watson's and Emily's faces and come up with an accurate conclusion. My eyes watered slightly.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Dr Watson," Emily said then, "But Holmes and I have a few things to discuss about a few details of the case. If you will excuse us?"

"I wouldn't dream of detaining you," said Watson, sounding like he meant every word and looking a bit fearful for my safety. I offered him a reassuring glance and allowed Emily to lead me away. She walked into the secluded balcony, away from the humdrum of the ball. It felt like walking into silence.

"I don't wish to occupy you for long," I said as we crossed the dance floor, "I imagine your dance card is quite full."

She smiled. "Nonsense. This is business, not social, right?" "Of course," I said, mainly for my own sake, "So, what happened after I left so abruptly?"

"Well, after the policemen got my father calmed down, they realised their birds had flown - but oddly enough, somebody had winged them coming down the front walk. It took all three of them to pick up Mr McKinley and carry him back in. I explained what had happened in the delivery office, both the fight with McKinley and also the location of the stash of jewelry. After they checked out our story, they arrested McKinley for the burglaries, and at present they're trying to figure out what jewelry came from whom. You can expect that that will take a while."

"From what I learned of the families, I expect no less," I replied.

"I do have one question, though... how did you know where the jewelry was? You seemed to know that whole day we were scouting about. I could have hit you when you finally told me."

I smiled. "Until we found the cardboard box, it was merely a theory that your belongings would not be with the rest. You see, according to the eyewitness accounts from Leopold and yourself, the thieves had no opportunity to dispose of the jewelry someplace outside, but they didn't have it on them by the time they were searched. Thus, they hid the jewelry somewhere within the house. Now young Adam was in the presence of the maid from the time he left the lavatory to the time he returned to the hall, and I'm certain she would have seen any furtive activity in the meantime. The only logical conclusion was that the jewelry was hidden within the main hall. When you have eliminated the impossible-"

"Whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth," she finished for me.

"Very good. And of course, the best hiding-place is one which you expect to take away with you in the future."

"So... what made you choose the centrepiece?"

"You might have noticed, Emily, that I took care to check the bowl before my dramatic unveiling. I would have looked quite foolish had I blindly chosen the wrong vessel - not to mention the fact that your father would have chased me out before I could find the correct one."

She laughed. "True enough. And of course you always make sure to do your research." She tapped the orchid in my lapel. "That was a nice touch." She held her gaze for a few moments longer, then looked away pensively. "I'm glad you could make it to the soiree," she said quietly, "I knew you'd want to hear how everything turned out... and you have no idea how much arm- twisting it took to get my father to let you back here."

I gritted my teeth. This was starting to get awkward. She turned looking the other way, I gently touched her elbow and put my forefinger under her chin and tilted her head up so I could see her face. I was planning only to assess how her injuries from the fight had healed, but in the process I noticed for the first time the soft contours of her face, the fullness of her mouth, the way a stubborn wisp of hair that had escaped the pins trailed down at her left temple and over her cheekbone, and the precise shade of fathomless ebony found in her eyes.

I hadn't noticed, and I always prided myself on noticing details. A dozen thoughts raced through my mind.

The one that came out was: "I see your split lip has healed nicely."

Argh.

She smiled, acknowledging the attempt. "Did your eye swell too badly? It still looks a shade puffy."

"I've had worse injuries than a blackened eye."

There was an awkward pause.

"Well," Emily finally said, "Is this discussion social yet, or is it still business?"

"It seems to have gone in its own direction," I replied stoically, "Leaving us with no choice but to follow." I stepped back and offered her my hand with a bow. "May I have the honour of this dance?"

She smiled and took my hand.

Even now I can't say for certain how long we danced. Suddenly it was 11.30 and Watson was at my elbow.

"Holmes! I've been looking all over for you!"

I blinked and looked over at him, still quite aware of the young woman in my arms. I hurriedly stepped back to a more discreet distance from her.

"It's getting late," Watson continued, "And I'm really quite worried about you."

"Worried?" I echoed, "Why?"

He merely glanced significantly over at Emily. I frowned.

"Watson," I said, "I can assure you that there isn't the least thing wrong with me that wasn't already there two weeks ago - and all that has healed, by your own account."

"Holmes-"

"But of course if you wish to go, we shall go." I was being peevish, I knew.

"Holmes." This was from Emily. I looked over at her. "You're not going to leave before you receive your fee, are you? For services rendered?"

My brain scrambled for a few moments before I remembered what she was talking about. "Ah, yes. For getting your jewelry back. Of course."

Emily flagged down Leopold, who had in an inside pocket an envelope, which she took from him and handed to me. I opened it and looked at the cheque inside, then raised my eyebrows at the amount.

"That's from my father," Emily explained, "though I think he was just glad to get you out of the house."

"He's very generous," I said, tucking the cheque into my breast pocket.

"The cheque is only part of the fee, though," she said, "This part is from me."

Before I could ask, she gently bent my head down with one gloved hand and kissed me softly on the corner of the mouth.

"Good night, Mr Sherlock Holmes," she murmured close to my ear as her hand brushed down my cheek, then she stepped back, inclined her head to Watson, then turned and vanished into the crowd.

Watson looked at me with newfound respect. "Holmes, you devil!" he smirked.

I cleared my throat. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," I lied.

"No?" he asked, "Then why are you blushing?"

I stopped short and glared at him. "I am doing no such thing, Watson," I snarled, "And you know it."

He started laughing as I stalked away to the coat check.

******

The End.

Continue to the new

Adventure of the grasping ghost

[riddlesandlies]

I, uh, don't have many people here that I know, and you ask me for nine people that I want to get better? Thanks for the tag, @quotesandmiracles, but this part of the chain dies with me >:3

Three ships

Orpheus and Eurydice in Hades (because of the music, of course it's because of the music, I will always listen to Darren Korb's tracks with reverence), Hound/Sandor Clegane and Lady Brienne from Game of Thrones (they have one scene in which they fight, and one scene in which they talk about why they fought and that's it, I want more of these two idiots trying to kill each other for whatever knightly reasons) and finally Christoph and Darell from Kindret (a relatively obscure russian book from 2006) (this is just the best kind of platonic friendship - two dudes helping each other through all the hardships, they are intimate through shared passion and grief, Chris even going as far as to excorcise a god rather than kill it on an off chance that Darell might survive, just mwah, dudes being bros to the grave and beyond)

First ship

I don't do fandom, but the earliest relationship I can remember that I can reasonably point to and say "I ship it" is Roy Mustang and Liza Hawkeye from Full Metal Alchemist. It's a fun one - romantic relationships didn't make a lot of sense for me, most of them just registering as "a plot device to make two characters care about each other". This justification was so pervasive in media, that whenever two characters of opposing sex have two much tying them together, I awaited a kiss scene like one would await a dentist's appointment - with hope that it comes and passes without much pain. It never happened with those two and it was such a relief that they kept it in character - business only. And yes, I'm calling lieutenant Liza, this is the hill I will die on.

Last song

I almost always have background music, even now as I'm writing this. I can't sleep, which means whatever relaxed epic I liked the most recently, which is Crimson Crown by Swallow the Sun, pulled right out of the depth of Spotify, cursed be its name.

Last movie

Either Nimona or Banshees of Inisherin, and I don't think I can figure out which. Nimona is Nimona, you know it. Banshees is not what I expected of it, but still very enjoyable once you become comfortable answering the questions it poses.

Currently reading

Congregation by Nadezhda Popova, recommended to me by @reflingthefox. The protagonist, a newly appointed inquisitor and investigator on his first case, is such a relatable character to me in the way he thinks and overthinks and spirals into his thoughts, never quite sure if he's doing his best. A nice book to have when you need to kill some time.

Currently watching

Elementary, yet another retelling of Sherlock Holmes, in which he's a recovering addict, and Joan (!) Watson is his sober companion. I'm just a sucker for hyper intelligent detective protagonists, I'll probably watch Mentalist next someday.

Currently consuming

Uhhh, tea shroom, which is just a basic combucha, protein shakes, and whichever soda finds itself in our fridge

Currently craving

More intimate, quiet time with my boyfriend, more opportunities and energy to meet him

[amypihcs]

And seeing this reblog of yours of such beautiful art after a day of lab couldn't but trigger my will to write something for those old men <3

Purple drops

Mr Sherlock Holmes didn’t move his eyes from his lavender harvesting activity but Doctor Watson knew he shouldn’t have been surprised by his sudden comment on Silver Blaze’s presence on his lap.

“Thought you were busy with the flowers, my dear.” Replied he.

Holmes chuckled. “You know me better than to think that such a mechanical and repetitive activity can occupy all my faculties, my dear man. – He rebuked jokingly. – And I reiterate my point. You’re never getting the cat’s hair out of your trousers.”

“Are you perhaps jealous?” Enquired the doctor, a hint of mischief in his tone.

Holmes snorted, mockingly outraged. “I will inform you, my husband, that jealousy is the kind of grit in one’s lens that’s only typical of boarding school girls. To think that I might be jealous of a cat! – He rose from his low crouch and winced a bit as one of his knees protested. – Still, I must admit, I do tend to be a bit possessive, and that spot he is occupying is my spot.” He growled softly, a loop sided smile on his face.

Watson laughed silently. “Hence, my honeybee, you are jealous of our cat.”

“You have yet to prove your hypothesis, doctor.” Smiled Holmes, approaching his husband to put a soft kiss on his lips.

“Is the leg a bit better now that you’ve warmed up in the sun a bit?” He asked then, sitting beside him on the bench, purring as he felt the doctor’s strong arm around his waist.

“It is, but I doubt the cat will let me stand.” Smiled Watson, drawing his partner in another kiss.

Holmes smiled tenderly, leaning on his shoulder for a moment. “My Watson. Retirement made you grow lazy.” He joked.

“And you romantic.” Replied the doctor, squeezing him tight for an instant.

“Never.” Swore Holmes with a soft purr, immediately contradicting himself by beginning to grace his partner’s jawline with several tiny, soft kisses.

The doctor laughed again, his shoulders shaking with mirth as he bent his head to expose more skin for his husband.

“Liar. – He moaned. – You won’t deny that you look delicious at least.”

“You are still the most biassed man I know, Watson.” Smiled Holmes, flattered.

“You’d look even better in one of those light tea dresses that are the rage now. – Continued Watson. – Would you like to try one?”

The detective grinned. “Thought you were against my lacing up in a corset.”

“And as much as I like the sight of you all laced up, I still am against you risking to come to harm for such a thing. – Clarified Watson. – Still, these new tea dresses hardly require you to don a corset, especially if you’re wearing it at home for none else but the two of us to see it.” He smiled, a hand slipping under his partner’s jacket to rest on his waistcoat.

Holmes smiled again, and put yet another deep kiss on his partner’s lips. “I should be delighted to try one on, my dearest. If only to be able to study your reaction to it.” He grinned.

“You devil. – Accused Watson. – What are you planning to do with the flowers?” He asked then.

“I’m sure you remember your experiment in making soap that will take roughly another three weeks to cure. I plan to extract the essential oils and aromas from these flowers and scent some of the soap bars you made.” He explained.

The doctor hummed a bit, his thoughts resting on his Holmes’ plan. “I suppose you have at least a draft of a procedure already, my dear?”

The retired detective nodded. “I do, in fact, my heart. And that surprised look is certainly not worthy of you. I will have to distil it from the plant, it will be done in a couple of hours at most.”

Watson chuckled and kissed his husband’s hands softly. “I should be glad to assist you, if you wish so?”

The detective smiled and brought his partner’s hands to his mouth to bestow a kiss on them. “I should be delighted to have your help, John. You know it.” He smiled.

I found this honey and lavender soap recipe and naturally the first thing I thought was Holmes picking some lavender from their garden to make some soap while Watson reads under a tree, and of course then I had to draw it.

[amypihcs]

"Do try my stew Watson!" "... That's the murder weapon, right?"

HELLO PEOPLE! FROM RAINY ITALY, LATE AS HELL AND INSTEAD OF STUDYING, DrWatson and his husband in the adventure of the gossipy cave!

Watson hear a voice outside and can't believe his ears!

IT'S HOLMES! Of course it's Holmes! Watson is a bit worried for him, has he eaten OR slept enough? He looks so thin, no DOUBT that figure was so tall and thin, it was Holmes! Still, Watson is QUITE worried.

STILL, he was never more glad to see a person!

We extend our thanks to Granada Television for having included Mortimer and so realistically stopped Holmes and Watson from kissing each other stupid.

Still, both Holmes and Watson are quite surprised to see the other around!

They're both so very happy to be once more around each other!

Holmes must've been so happy to see a sign of Watson around!

Still, Watson is not ENTIRELY happy! He's justifiably a bit raw because of y'know Holmes lying to him.

And how to find any fault in it! But he's quite easily pacified.

Holmes is back! now we'll be able to talk and he'll help me!

They of course enter Holmes' humble abode and set to do what the two biggest gossip girls of London do: GOSSIP!

Well, at least once dismissed the stew. Cooking's not QUITE Holmes' forte.

Chatting of country gossip with some important wait what moments!

What do you mean his wife, Holmes?

DAAAAMN. Well, allusions to 'making love' aside, this chat is going quite well.

Nothing better than discuss the details of a case while curled up in an old cave maybe eating canned peaches togethe-

WHAT IS THIS NOW??! Not the time, Watson. What the hell?

Damnit, They are too late! And yes, well NO, but yes, unfortunately.

It's undoubtedly sir Henry!

They have some talks of revenge and so on, but Holmes is for keeping calm. As calm as possible

Using the Granada chronology, he's passed through Five Orange Pips already. It's nto the first time he loses a cli- Are you alright dear fellow?

CHANGE OF PROGRAM! IT IS NOT SIR HENRY! Wahoo, i suppose!

The hell now? They just agreed on hiding the body when someone is approaching! The wannabe murderer himself! The audacity!

Not a word, John. So good that i wasn't kissing you.

Stapleton surely wanted to make sure the work was well done and complete!

Well, at least now Holmes can toss his last line by assuring the man that he WON'T be around the following day and he and Watson can retreat to the hall to finish talking the business over!

And we'll see what they'll make of it in the next episode!

[isles-of-man]

Sherlock Holmes slouched in his study at 221B Baker Street, the room illuminated by the harsh glow of the street lights outside the window and cluttered with scattered files, and a jumble of half-empty coffee cups. The sharp, acrid scent of his cigarette smoke. On the desk, among the mess, lay his phone, unanswered from calls from his brother and Watson who had increasingly more busy with marriage and a newborn. He didn’t understand family life, little of his own had been ever been much on his mind.

Holmes knew he was teetering on the edge. The adrenaline from the chase and the high from the drugs had merged into a dangerous cocktail. What had once been a pursuit of truth and intellectual satisfaction had devolved into a relentless, destructive cycle. His need for the next fix was as consuming as the case itself, dragging him further into a spiral where the line between investigation and addiction blurred beyond recognition. The very thing that had once sharpened his brilliance was now a crutch and a curse, threatening to undo him from within.

It was only a saving grace he had a number to call; his dealer in a way named “Granger” as he had come to know her all. They had had trysts, in and out of his flat where he had taken her. She had been both intellectual and intimately satisfying to him since they had first met. Unbeknownst to John he had used his name; avoiding detection of using his own name to connect with a willing subject to his needs. She had answered to his messages. Since then he had called on her like he had just a half hour ago to give her time to arrive.

His front door open, eyes darted towards it and greeted his guest with a quick smirk and lowered his head to kiss her firmly with a nip of her lip. The simple touch already causing a satisfied feeling in him. She was indeed, a drug. His drug. "I don't want you to hold back tonight, understand?"

@theirmadness

[sablesigyn]

What's you worst Obligatory Date Story?

Mine needs a bit of context...

I was staying with my parents on winter break from college and ran into one of my childhood bestie's little brothers at the store. There were 10 kids in that family at the time so our hang out time often included the younger kids. My bestie was a year older than me, so this little brother was my age and I had known him for years but hadn't seen him or my bestie (his sister), since she went to college the year prior. I asked if she was visiting and he told me she had eloped! He said he would elaborate over the phone later.

He called my parent's number. I never gave him my cell number. After giving me very little info about his sister, he mentioned it had been a long time since we had hung out and we should catch up some time. Now....I thought he meant we should hang out....not date...

I said, "Sure. I'm only in town for a few weeks though."

He replied with a huge sigh of relief and said, "Oh my gosh, I was so nervous!"

When I asked why he would be nervous about hanging out I realized I had done goofed. Now, I did try to explain the misunderstanding and said I had never thought of him romantically, but I had already agreed to hang out and felt obligated to do so.

What followed was nightly phone calls to my parents number. If I didn't answer, he kept calling until someone picked up and my parents would always make me take the call. When I told him not to call so much and not to call after 9pm, cause I was working on a project, he started calling at 8:58pm and would ramble on for a hour by making it super difficult to end the call without sounding rude. Eventually I agreed to see the new Sherlock Holmes movie, but there was a snowstorm the night before. He called to change plans and said he was would walk the 30-minute drive/15 miles through 2 feet of snow to see me....

I was alarmed and only convinced him not to by rescheduling for 6pm on the same day I was having dental work. Turned out he didn't have a car, so this was a double date with his friend driving us and they showed up 2 hours early, at 4pm. My face was still very numb from my 2pm dental work. The other couple went to a different movie and things weren't too bad until Dr. Watson's wedding scene, when Watson is hung over. This is when my date said, "Don't worry. That won't happen at Our wedding."

After the film we went to the Mongolian Grill with the other couple, where you get to cook your food at the table. If my face wasn't numb, this would have been nice...but the meat was chewy, and I could only use one side of my mouth. I was taking a long time and couldn't reply without biting my cheek, so I was quiet. My date was too busy staring at me chew to notice he caught some food on fire and I bit my cheek badly when bumped into by them trying to put out the fire. The other couple tried to minimize this by telling a story about seeing someone accidentally light the whole table on fire before.

I was relieved when dinner ended until they said my date had a work training for pampered chef...across the street. I was left at Barnes & Noble for an hour, my cheek bleeding and a mouth of pain as the numbness was finally wearing off from the dental work. My friends texted me to pass the time and make sure I was safe. Finally, my date showed up and said we could go. As we sat in the backseat, he tried to steal a kiss and asked for a second date....the couple in the front was listening. In the quietest voice I could muster I politely said, I only saw us as friends.

Now, you would think that the story was over at this point....but you would be wrong.

After this, the nightly calls continued and my father said I had to talk to my "boyfriend." He wouldn't turn down the calls or back me up when I said I didn't want to talk. My father said that my "boyfriend" got me a job I could do for a week as a door-to-door DOOR salesman. I declined.

A few days before I was returning to college, this guy showed up at my folks' house to do a Pampered Chef sales pitch that he arranged with my Father. My mom wasn't interested and left. After his pitch, my father invited him to stay for dinner and said he needed to get something at the store....leaving us alone.

I sat on the other side of the room from him and something made me sneeze, a huge and gross sneeze. I excused myself and rushed to the bathroom to clean up, kicking the door closed behind me only to discover that this guy had ran after me and INTO the bathroom.

I yelled at him to get out and close the door. He did...but waited behind the door for me to come out. At this point I was angry, but my father had left us alone and this guy had no car or way to get to his apartment unless he walked 15 miles. When I came out, I told him that following a woman who excused themselves INTO a bathroom/walking in on them when the door was closed was Unacceptable behavior and I wouldn't be speaking with him again. He did apologize, but I don't remember what he said. When my father returned I told him to see to His guest and I left the house.

Turns out my father was trying to play matchmaker. He said this guy reminded him of himself when he was younger. I then had to explain all the things wrong with following a woman into a bathroom, how barging in on someone in a private place wasn't acceptable "puppy-dog love" behavior...

And then I had to explain to the guy's grandma that no...we were not dating. At least his grandma was cool about it. And I never saw him again.

[rory-iero-real]

Here are my notes (live action) :

TW for spoilers

EHAHAHAHHAAAAAAAA I LOVE OLIVIA COLEMAN

Lestrade with sideburns is amazing

Sherlock......... in a PLAID SUIT

I love how this was filmed

Why am I scared

"It's a shotgun wedding" baddie moment

Everyone looks so sexy in the 1800's I love this

"I have some urgent business" IS IT MYCROFT?!?!

M is prob mycroft

Wait do we not get to see Molly?!?!

Rude.

AHHHHHHHH WHAT

I LOVE BUTCH MOLLY HOOPER BUT WTF IS HAPPENING

"It's never twins" he said the thing!!

Not the secert twin-

Can I marry Mr Hooper?

THATS FUCKING CREEPY...

"Now that daddys gone" AHHHHHHH BE MY HUSBAND

"And I should have to go deeper still." cunty

Eating up the Victorian dressing gown

Idek what he just said bud talks too fast

"Who have I been talking to all this time?" Awww sherlock misses his man wife

Why is John being a dick

Ewwww

"If inconvenient, come anyway" he said the thing!! Pt 2

"Shut up" love a sibling rivelry moment w the Holmes boys (if their seeing myc, idk yet)

What..... is happening.....

"Sorry what" me that whole scene bud

The way they are depicting Mycroft is- something

I know it's Canon but like-

Not them betting on Mycrofts life

This makes how Mycroft is in the 2010s feel sadder

Love the brothers bickering

Please get back to case solving

Still trying to figure out where Mary is going

"Those are my specialtys" love that guy

A priest?? GHOSTS?!?

Are those seeds?? Am I dumb??

I'm very confused

HER?!?!?!?!??!

"My sins have found me" DID HE KILL HER?!?!?! WHAT

Was she his ex wife??

That bed looks mad comfy ngl

WHAT??

I'm scared it's too misty

Is he dead?!?¿

HOLY SHIT-

AHHHHHHHHHHHH IM SCARED

The head tilt is giving me the hibby jibbys

NO FUCKING WAY HE JUS DIED RIGHT THERE.

"But he could be" lmao

Watson??

AHHHH MARY YES.

"And I was about to laugh in your face"

So theirs no ghosts??

Babe that was NOT sleepwalking

Sherlock feminist moment

He's so funny

This episode is sideburns central

Ohhh so their orange seeds

IS IT SCURVY??

It's not scurvy.

"The game is afoot" he said the thing!! Pt 3

Dad thinks it's finally twins ("cause it's NEVER TWINS")

I think it's ghosts (I like ghosts)

Love their yapping

IRENE ADLER MENTION

Watson just wishes holmes had game

"A brain without a heart"

DOES HE MEAN SEX?¿?

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAH

"Oh Watson, nothing made me. I made me."

REDBEARD!?!??

IS IT A GHOST

I'm dizzy wtf is happening

I'm fr kinda scared

OMG HES DEAD!?

John bby u can't shoot a ghost

WAIT WHO WAS THAT

PLEASE BE GHOSTS PLEASE BE GHOSTS

AHHHHHHHHHHHH NO JOHN PLEASE

AHH GO SHERLOCK GO

"THEIR ARE NO GHOSTS" WHY are u yelling at me Sherlock

Yay Lestrade is back!!

Dude how is it John's fault??

Benny hunnny PLEASE talk slower

THERES A NOTE??

IS IT THE WIFE

YESSSSSSS ITS MORIARTY

"Good boy" I WOULD LET MYCROFT HOLMES THROW ME DOWN THE STAIRS.

If Moriarty doesn't have sideburns I'm turning the TV off/j

HES COOKING LET THE MAN COOK

Mind palace mention

"I just sort of do" I love you Mrs Hudson

THE DEVIL??

NOOOOO SHERLOCK SAY NO TO DRUGS

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HES HERE

"Or are you just pleased to see me?" HE SAID TJE THING!!! pt 4

Not him posing so cuntly

HE WAS IN HIS BED??

HE LICKED. THE. DUST.

DONT SHOOT MY MAN HELP

"where's the intimacy in that" PLEASE kiss

"UGH so what?" WHY IS HE BEING SO CUNTY

Yes. I do need to know how.

PLEASE ANDREW STOP BEING SEXUAL I AM WITH MY FATHER.

"DEAD, is the new sexy." GRRRREAHHHHHHHHHBHHH

WTF. IS THAT.

It's ghosts. It's ghosts.

Wait he was dreaming?!?!?!!

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh he WAS dreaming

EXACTLY LIKE MORIARTY

ohhhhhhhhh is that why everything was so- sherlock

Ie. John being "dumb", Lestrade being "weak", Literally JUST made a shot at Mycrofts weigh

Wait now I'm sad

UGHHHHHHH MYCROFT JUST CARES ABT HIM.

IM GONNA CRY

I love Mary

"Yapping?" YAPPING.

"It was my fault" BABY PLEASE I LOVE HIM

HUH?? WHAT IS HAPPENING

I AM TWEAKING IS EVERYTHING A DREAM????

"I could break every bone in your body while NAMING THEM."

Awwwww John just cares

WHAT?? MARY??

"Wear the damn hat" he said the thing!!! Pt 5

I AM SO CONFUSED I LOVE THIS

IS IT CULT SHIT!?!?!?!??!?!?!?¿?

"Being the slow little brother" MARY BADDIE MOMENT

Wait so they're showing how she did it like how they showed Sherlocks

Love that

IS THIS ABT FEMINISM????

ITS ABOUT FEMINISM

This is so cool

But confusing

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MOLLY

SO MOLLY WAS JUST BUTCH IM A GENIUS

I WAS JUST BEING FUNNY BEFORE

New #1 episode

This is so fuckinf cool yall

I LOVE MOLLY HOOPER. SO MUCH.

IT. WAS. ALL. MOLLY.

WASNT IT

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH IT WAS MORIARTY.

I KNEW THAT

I ALSO LOVE MORIARTY.

IT WAS ALL A DREAM. I KNEW IT

Slay Mary tech queen

"Smartest person in the room istg" - my dad

YAAAAAAY LESTRADE IS HERE!!! (he's my fav) (can u tell?)

BENADICT. TALK SLOWER.

PLEASE.

"Mary's taking me home" he gets pegged.

WHAT IS HAPPENING

NO. NONONONO

I HATED THAT.

Wait- WTF IS THAT A WATERFALL

Yaaaaaaaaaaaay Moriarty!

Imagine they kiss

"Not in your mind, I'll never be dead there."

DID HE CALL MORIARTY SHORT ASS? I CANT HEAR WITHOUT SUBTITLES

HELP IM SCARED

"SHALL WE GO OVER TOGETHER?"

OMG JOHN AHHHHHHHHHHH YES

"That's not fair there's two of you" waaaaaawaaaaaa poor stinky baby

"Since when do you call me john?"

AWWWWWWWWWW

"Pretty damn smart."

YES MORIARTY. THEY SHOULD ELOPE.

HE JUST GOT KICKED DOWN. THE. WATERFALL.

HE ALWAYS SURVIES THE FALL.

"ITS ELEMENTARY MY DEAD WATSON." HE. SAID. THE. THING.

Awww the little smile

Stumble stumble

"Promise me?" he just CARES AHHHHHHHGGGGGGG

"Look after him, please?" SOBBING.

REDBEARD.

Watching The Abominable Bride w my dad

[married-to-google-translater]

Getting caught might make out session for Mycroft, Albert and Bond

William, Sherlock and Louis are Here

James Bond

James would have been busy in the last few days.

Now you finally got some "time between just two of you".

So you didn’t have time but took full advantage of the time you got.

So James was just kissing you when the door opened.

Behind it was William who wanted to talk to James about the next mission.

This incident doesn't bother James at all.

He would just talk to William quickly as you blush in the background.

(Times were different and at the time such would have been generally considered immoral. You weren't even married. Oh horrible.)

However, James thinks there is no problem with this.

He would be willing to continue these "things" after William left.

If you want...

Mycroft Holmes

Mycroft would be really annoyed.

He had told his little brother at least 100 times that "you have to knock before you step inside my office."

But again, Sherlock did not listen to him.

And this time he rushed in when you and Mycroft were doing "things."

Poor Watson also inadvertently joined this show.

He would be really red.

The situation is not eased by Sherlock starting to tease his big brother about the situation.

“I didn’t know you could have decent relationships” style humor.

Mycroft looks like he wants Sherlock to get the hell out of his office.

Fortunately, Watson has a good sense of the situation.

He pulls Sherlock out the door before something serious happens.

(Or so Mycroft looks like he’d be happy to strangle Sherlock.)

Albert James Moriarty

It all started when you and Albert spent "quality" time.

He is busy leading the MI6 team and due to other duties.

So because of that, this moment would be really valuable.

It's just a shame the time was wrong.

Just when you had "got up and running," Louis came to announce that the food was ready.

It was embarrassing on so many different levels.

Lewis leaves the room really quickly.

He doesn’t want to make this situation even more embarrassing than it already is.

Too bad that you don't have time to continue the thing you started.

Maybe later ?

[topsyturvy-turtely]

(Rosie's) Elephant in the Room

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Words: 4491 (on ao3)

Summary: John Watson loves Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes loves John Watson. John Watson’s daughter loves her giant elephant plushie.

This is the story how the two men finally jump over their shadows and confess their feelings. All because of an elephant plushie.

---

Rosamund Mary Watson owned one thing she was incredibly proud of: her gigantic elephant plushie.

Name: Ellie Phant Astic

Gender: female

Age: 1 year 24 weeks and 5 days

Material: very soft fabric

Strengths: very good at hugging and listening. The best plushie in the whole wide world.

Weaknesses: shy, not talkative (only talks to Rosie Watson).

“Hi, Rosie, sweetie. What are you writing down?”, her dad (John Watson) asked, as he dropped his bag to the floor after he came home from work.

“Key data of Ellie Phant Astic. Look!”, proudly the girl showed off her scrawly handwriting to her dad, who squated down to kiss his daughter’s top of the head and review her professional plush toy data. Seven years old, exceedingly smart and good at social interactions as long as it only includes herself, her way too big elephant plushie and family, Rosie reminded John more of Sherlock than of himself. Writing down key data of a plush toy? Definitely a thing Sherlock did as a kid!

“Wow, that’s truly elephant-astic”, John joked and winked. Rosie giggled.

“I believe you call that a dad-joke, John”, Sherlock said leaning in the door frame, dressing gown over his sweatpants and a white T-shirt and a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Well,” John stood up and his spine made a clicking noise. “I am a dad, so I am allowed to make those.” John smiles. “How was your day with the little one?”

“Oh, it was quite ‘elephant-astic’, wouldn’t you agree, Watson?”, he said, making air-quotes when saying the really not that funny word.

Enthusiastically Rosie nodded her head. “Yessss! Phantie and Lock and me went to the pond in the park and fed the ducks and then we came home and played Cluedo and then I had to go down to Granny, because Lock was angry, because he wasn’t playing according to the rules but that’s okay because Phantie, Granny and I made cookies and they were delicious and I ate soooo much!”

“That sounds like quite a busy day, Rosie. But, I suggest you don’t play Cluedo with Lock anymore, he is extremely bad at it.”, the doctor said with a smirk directed at his flatmate.

Rosie laughed, looked at the tall detective, then at the 3 foot stuffed animal and finally whispered into John’s ear, “Phantie agrees.”

Knowing full well his Watsons were whispering and giggling over him, Sherlock countered, “I am not bad at Cluedo. This game is simply illogical.”

“Yeah, sure it is, Sherlock.”, John said and Rosie fell into a giggling fit. With a pout, Sherlock turned around and walked back into the kitchen.

Still smiling, John turned to Rosie. “I’ll be taking a shower and be right down. Will you be alright with Mr. Pouty-Face over there?”

Giggling, Rosie nodded and pointed at the giant elephant next to her, “Phantie and I can handle him.”

“Probably even better than I can, sweetheart.”, John said, gave Rosie another kiss and left to take a shower.

Upstairs John was overwhelmed by the chaotic mess of a room screaming at him. He used to have a very tidy room, apart from the occasional pants or jumper laying one day too long on the floor. That had changed when Rosie came and Mary had died. John had moved back in with Sherlock and was since then sharing his room with a little girl: Plushies everywhere, pirate costumes over his bed, a magnifying glass with a bunch of sheets with a kid’s colourful handwriting, on and around the desk. The closet door wide open, half of the clothes falling out.

This room was getting definitely too small for a little girl living her wildest dreams. Let alone a little girl and her father. Said girl wasn’t even that little anymore. They had two small singles now, instead of the queen sized bed, because Rosie was kicking like crazy in her sleep. John’s nightmares had gotten better with her close to him, but on bad nights he had to sleep on the couch downstairs, as to not disturb her. Or blankly stare onto the ceiling hoping sleep would make John its slave at some point. Thankfully Rosie slept like a stone most days.

And as much as it pained him and would for sure pain his daughter: John would have to move out soon, if he ever wanted to live like a grown man again. If he ever wanted Rosie to become not dependent on her father. They both needed their own space. For their own sakes.

John sighed, grabbed some fresh clothes and left the messy room to take a shower. Tomorrow. He would tell Sherlock they’d move out tomorrow.

Continue on Ao3 ;)