#you know sherlock went to that hospital for half a year and came into the room just with liam still unconscious and it was just silence

[ultopias]

[datauthorress]

;love me (like you love the sun); [Chapter 1]

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes / Original Female Character

Summary: “I should be afraid of you.” she whispered against his lips.

In which Shelby, a Sensitive with Mediumship abilities and a Guardian Demon, meets Sherlock Holmes, a powerful and alluring vampire.

Rating: E

Warnings: Gore and Violence, Vampire! Sherlock, Canon-Divergent, Supernatural Elements, Suicide Attempt Mention

“Inspector Lestrade? Miss O’viere has just arrived on scene.”

         “Let her in.”

         Donovan gave a nod to Lestrade and left the building, allowing another, younger woman into the room and towards the crime scene. She didn’t appear to be any older than her mid-twenties, but Lestrade knew she was just about 30-years old. She was about average height and had short, dark brown hair that was mostly slicked back besides a few strands falling across her forehead, and had a pair of hazel-colored eyes with a thin ring of blue around her pupils, and a pair of rainbow themed glasses with wide lenses.

         She was wearing an outfit that complimented her figure quite nicely. A pair of black skinny jeans with a couple of rips in the thighs, a white tank top with a worn, but still in good condition leather jacket that had a hood connected to it, and a pair of shin high boots that hugged her shins. She had several piercings on both of her ears and was wearing a few necklaces, along with a long chain that had a single, black key hanging from it.

         At her side, the woman was leaning her weight on a cane, and a shoulder bag over her shoulder.

         “Hello,” the woman smiled. “I’m sorry I’m late. The cabbie was new and went down the wrong road.”

         “That’s quite alright. Miss O’viere, was it?” Lestrade asked, holding his hand out for her to shake.

         “Shelby, please.” She replied, moving towards Lestrade to shake his hand. “Thank you for having me on your team, Inspector.”

         “It’s my pleasure. We could certainly benefit from your experience.” He nodded. “Your resume was quite impressive, and your references were out of this world.”

         “Ah, thank you.” Shelby smiled. “So. What are we looking at?”

         They turned towards the crime scene, which was gruesome beyond words. There was a broken circle in the middle of the room, having been drawn on the cement with bright red chalk. The symbols in and around the circle were easy to recognize.

         Demonic symbols.

         Used for summoning demons.

         There was a body in the middle of the circle, or what was left of a body. It had been torn completely in half at the waist, the top half was all the remained. Dried blood and internal organs were strewn all over the circle, painting the red chalk even darker.

         “Any information?” Shelby asked with a soft sigh.

         “Charles McAdams, 25-years old and had a history of schizophrenia, according to his medical records. No parents, but one older sibling that said Charles had been doing fairly well for almost a year.” Lestrade replied.

         “What happened up to this point?” Shelby asked.

         “According to his sister, Charles had began to relapse about three days ago. She had been working on getting him admitted back to the hospital, but he disappeared from the home, shouting something about summoning “him”.”

         “Hmm,” Shelby mused.

         She released a soft grunt when she knelt down on one knee, examining the circle more closely. After a moment, she stood back up. “Something definitely came through,”

         “How do you know?” Lestrade asked.

         “The circle was obviously correct, the symbols all in the right place.” Shelby pointed out. “Whatever came through was hungry, and more than likely ate the other half of Charles.”

         “Jesus, she sounds like him.” Anderson snorted.

         “Lestrade! The freak is here!” Donovan called from outside.

         “Speak of the devil,” Anderson muttered.

         Shelby turned her attention to the door as a tall, slender man clad in black trousers and a black coat walked into the room. His skin was pale, his hair black and curly.

         And his eyes were blood red.

         Vampire.

         “What’s a vampire doing working for Scotland Yard?” Shelby asked, turning to Lestrade with a raised eyebrow.

         “He doesn’t work for Scotland Yard. You could say he’s helped us on more cases than I can count on all my fingers and toes.” Lestrade replied.

         Shelby turned her attention back to the newcomer, who stared down at her with those red eyes of his. After a moment, she held out her hand to him. “Shelby O’viere, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

         The man’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment before he reached out as well and shook her hand. It was easy to feel the insane strength behind the shake. “Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective.” He introduced.

         “So you’re the famous Sherlock Holmes,” Shelby said with a slight grin. “I’ve heard a lot about you, detective.”

         “Enlighten me,” Sherlock drawled.

         “Maybe later,” Shelby said.

         “What have we got?”

         Lestrade explained the same thing that he had done to Shelby, and once Shelby gave her input on what had happened, Sherlock spoke. “What makes you believe something came through?”

         “As what I said before, and the energy around the circle. Whatever came through was a few hours ago, but the energy is still here.” Shelby replied, kneeling back down in front of the circle. She reached into her bag and brought out a small, thin case and what was inside was white and red chalk. “And from the way the energy feels, the entity that came through is definitely demonic and of….about average strength. Strong, but not as strong as one of the Seven Deadly Sins.”

         “Seven Deadly Sins?” Anderson questioned.

         “Seven Sins, Seven Princes of Hell. Powerful demons that command over parts of Hell, and although there are nine Levels, the Seven Sins rule over seven Levels, while the other two are ran by other demons.” Shelby explained. “Lucifer is the most powerful of the Princes, being that he is the Devil.”

         “So Lucifer is what sin?” Lestrade asked.

         “Pride.” Shelby nodded. “Lucifer was the most beautiful of all the Angels and when he raged war against his Father, he and the other angels were cast out of Heaven forever.”

         “Back to the case,” Lestrade cleared his throat.

         “Of course. So whatever came through the circle is strong, but again, not as strong as one of the Sins. It can be defeated with the proper tools,”

         “Can you break the circle?” Sherlock asked.

         “Yes.”

         Shelby drew onto the circle with white chalk, adding a few symbols around it before she placed her hand in the middle of it. The white circle glowed, and next, the red circle. It glowed with the same ferocity of the white one and within seconds, a dark mist rose from the red circle and vanished quickly into the air.

         “There,” Shelby said, removing her hand. “The circle is harmless now, although I would suggest cleaning this up so someone doesn’t get curious and remake it.”

         Shelby stood up with a small wince, wiping her hands on a wet wipe that she had produced from her bag.

         “If I may ask,” Sherlock began, getting the young woman’s attention. “How do you know so much about demonic beings?”

         “I’ve had my fair share of encounters, Sherlock.” Shelby replied. “Ever since I can remember, I’ve always been sensitive to the supernatural. I started doing research when I was about twelve.”

         “Interesting,” he muttered and slowly approached her, to which he noticed she didn’t back away from him. “You have knowledge in the supernatural that would surpass even the oldest human who had done research all of his life. You’re not just an occult specialist,”

         Shelby stared up at him with a hard look.

         “You’re a Demon Hunter. And besides that, you hunt more than just Demons.” Sherlock deduced, causing Lestrade and Anderson’s eyes to widen.

         Shelby was quiet for a moment before a smile broke across her features and she chuckled softly. “No wonder they call you the Consulting Detective. I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve had my fair share of encounters with the supernatural, other entities included.”

         “Fascinating,” Sherlock mused. “Yes, you’ll do. I’m looking for a flat mate to help share the rent. I already know you don’t have a place to call home quite yet, so you should move in with me.”

         “Sherlock, I just met you not even a half hour ago.” Shelby said, shaking her head. “I’m not going to move in with someone I just met.”

         “Shelby O’viere,”

         “Shit, Sherlock-!” Lestrade cursed, quickly covering his and Anderson’s eyes.

         Shelby glanced up into Sherlock’s eyes with her own wide ones. His were glowing with the brightness of a blood red moon, bright in the sky. “You will come home with me.” Sherlock finished, his eyes locked with Shelby’s.

         Shelby was quiet for a long, agonizing moment before she smiled softly and shook her head, causing Sherlock’s eyes to widen in shock. “Thanks, but no thanks, Sherlock. I’ll find a place on my own.”

         Sherlock frowned, looking as if his ego had been stomped on repeatedly. He let loose a quiet growl underneath his breath before leaving the room quickly.

         “How in the bloody hell did you do that?!” Anderson exclaimed.

         “Ah, I have my ways.” Shelby smiled.

         “I’ll drive you back,” Lestrade offered.

         ~ ~ ~

         TWO DAYS LATER

         “I believe Inspector Lestrade left some files for me? Shelby O’viere is the name.”

         The receptionist handed Shelby a file folder and immediately recoiled back in her seat, her eyes fixated on someone next to Shelby. Shelby glanced to her right, seeing the tall, intimidating figure of Sherlock Holmes standing there, staring down at her.

         “Oh, hello. Sherlock, was it?” she asked, taking the file folder from the receptionist.

         “Yes,” Sherlock rumbled.

         “It’s 7 o’clock, detective. You woke up at six, correct?” Shelby asked, and Sherlock huffed. “Of course I know the sleeping schedule of vampires, most of them at least.”

         Shelby turned on her heel and walked towards the entrance of the station, with Sherlock following her. “How long have you known about vampires?” he asked, curious.

         “As long as I’ve known about most things, when I started my research at twelve-years old.” Shelby replied as they walked outside. “I’ve done research on different cultures, mythical and mythology, as well as the paranormal.”

         “Hmmph,” Sherlock said. “Have you eaten yet?”

         “Not since breakfast this morning, why?”

         “There’s a Chinese place just at the end of Baker Street.” Sherlock replied, and saw her raised eyebrow. “Don’t give me that look. I can go into an actual restaurant. Besides, I already fed today.”

         “Oh, well, then. Sure.”

         Sherlock flagged down a taxi for them.

         ~

         “How long have you been a vampire?”

         “500 years,” Sherlock replied. “How long have you known about the paranormal?”

         “Since I was eight-years old.” Shelby answered, swallowing down the forkful of noodles down her throat. “How did you turn?”

         “Accident involving a gun.” Sherlock said, sitting back. “What happened to your leg?”

         “Car accident, also took my uterus.” She answered, not seeming to be offended or shy of answering.

         “So you had a hysterectomy?”

         “Yes, a full one. My organs were too damaged for them to remain in my body, so I had emergency surgery to have them removed. And before you ask, no, I don’t miss it.” Shelby explained. “I also never wanted children in the first place, so I don’t miss having a uterus at all.”

         “And the car accident took your leg?” he asked, raising a brow.

         “I still have my leg, yes, but the bones were completely shattered. I had seven surgeries to try and correct the damage, but I grew tired of being poked and experimented on.” Shelby said, shaking her head. “So I deal with the pain with medication.”

         “You weren’t driving when the accident happened.”

         “No, I wasn’t. My sister was. She was drunk.”

         “I see, and you can’t forgive her.” He said.

         “No, I can’t. Not after the fact that she could have told our parents that she had been drinking, but she didn’t and I paid the price for her mistake.” Shelby sighed, taking a long drink of her soda.

         There was silence between them as she finished eating.

         “Move in with me,” Sherlock offered.

         “Sherlock, we barely know each other.” Shelby sighed.

         “And?”

         “You’re not going to give this up, are you?”

         “Nope.”

         “Let me see the place and I’ll think about it,” she said.

         After eating, Shelby followed Sherlock up Baker Street until they came to a building, named 221B Baker Street. He opened the door for her and let her in first, before he shut the door behind them and took her up the stairs and into the flat.

         “Wow,” Shelby said in awe, glancing around the flat. “This is nice, very nice actually. I assume there’s another bedroom, probably upstairs if I’m correct.”

         “Who said anything about needing two bedrooms?”

         “Eh?” Shelby asked, confusion etched within her voice.

         Before she could do anything, Sherlock was in front of her, standing close to her body. Cold hands cupped her warm cheeks, and before she could utter a word, Sherlock pressed his lips against hers. Shelby blinked once, twice, then a third time while she tried to believe this was really happening. She was being kissed by a gorgeous vampire – no, a gorgeous man. Sherlock was dark and beautiful, deadly and strong, and yet, she found herself melting into his touch as she began to recuperate the kiss.

         It had been a long time since she had kissed someone, not since her crush had kissed her in high school to have her know what a kiss actually felt like, and a good one at that. She released her cane from her hands and grasped Sherlock’s broad shoulders, her lips molding perfectly with his once he deepened the kiss.

         “I should be afraid of you,” she whispered against his lips.

         “You should be,” he agreed, his hands moving away from her face to grab the lapels of her leather jacket.

         His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, his tongue soothing the bite before his tongue slipped between her lips and into her warm mouth. She released a soft mewl into the kiss, her hands clutching onto his coat. Sherlock’s cold hands moved her jacket off of her shoulders and down her arms, letting the heavy fabric fall to the floor. Shelby did the same with his coat, hearing it hit the floor as well.

         “Sherlock,” she gasped into the kiss.

         “Beautiful,” he murmured, one hand staying on her back while the other maneuvered down further and squeezed her ass through her jeans.

         Shelby squeaked and pulled out of the kiss to breath, a thin string of saliva connecting them before it broke. “W-wait, this is so sudden….” She panted.

         “You’re a virgin,” he concluded.

         “Y-yes, but that’s not the point. We barely know each other, and I….” Shelby’s voice trailed off into a shiver when Sherlock’s lips pressed a kiss onto her throat.

         “You’re right,” he murmured. “There’s one thing I want to know.”

         “Which is?” she asked.

         “How did you resist the thrall? No talisman, or protective enchantments can protect a human from a vampire’s thrall, especially in their own territory?” Sherlock asked, glancing up at her.

         Shelby should have know that question was going to come up. She released a soft sigh. “It’s a bit of a long, complicated story.”

         “We have all the time in the world,” he assured her.

         “Right,” she nodded.

         ~

         “I always had a hunch I was different, per say. I was more sensitive to people’s emotions, people I could see and people I couldn’t see.” Shelby began, holding the cup of coffee in her hands, as she and Sherlock had taken a seat on the couch. “When I was eight years old, I saw my first ghost. My great-grandfather. He just smiled at me and waved, before vanishing. That was the start of my encounters with the paranormal.”

         “And it grew after that,” he said.

         “Yes. By the time I was twelve, I could see and hear spirits and entities all around me, asking me for help on where to go. It wasn’t until I was thirteen when I could help them cross over to the other side, wherever they were supposed to go.” She explained. “But by the time I was 14, things took a turn for me. I experienced a series of events that made me believe I was supposed to die. At 14, I tried to kill myself because the bullying in school had become incredibly bad. At 15, I was struck by lightning and barely survived,”

         That explained the Lichtenburg Figure on her neck and chest, Sherlock mused.

         “At 16, was the car accident, as you already know.” Shelby said, taking another sip of her coffee. “I had died. I had met another spirit that was going to supposedly guide me to my afterlife, but another had come by and told them that it wasn’t my time yet. And because the universe had wanted me dead so badly, I was appointed a guardian.”

         “An angel?” Sherlock questioned.

         “No…a demon. A Guardian Demon, one who had been working on his sins for a very long time and had been given a chance to secure his own paradise.” Shelby replied. “He reminds me of my father, to be honest. He’s extremely protective and wants to make sure I’m safe at all times.”

         “Is he here now?” Sherlock asked.

         “Yes, he’s listening right now.” She nodded. “He was going to attack you, when you kissed me, but he decided not to once I returned it.”

         “Is he the reason why a vampire’s thrall doesn’t affect you?”

         “He’s the only reason it doesn’t affect me,” she nodded.

         “I see.” Sherlock said softly.

         “Sherlock,” Shelby called his name softly and she reached out to place a warm hand on his own cold one. “I’m not sure what to make of this, but the last thing I want for you is to get hurt. Things follow me, wanting to know why I’m being protected by a Guardian Demon. And they get violent sometimes. I don’t know what it is…but I feel as though I’ve known you for a very long time.”

         Sherlock turned his hand over and squeezed her hand gently, his touch gentle despite the strength in it. He cupped the side of her neck with his other hand and leaned forward to press his lips against hers in a tender kiss. Shelby returned it with a soft hum, to which she pulled away when she heard Sherlock’s cellphone ding.

         Sherlock sighed in annoyance and pulled out his phone, checking his messages. “It’s Lestrade. He said that we’ve got another half-torn body.”

         “Ah, then the demon must be close.” Shelby said with a nod.

         Shelby stood and took her cup over to the kitchen, where she finished the remainder of the coffee and rinsed it out.

         “Shelby,” Sherlock said, his hand taking hers once more.

         “Yes,”

         “I’ll protect you,” he promised. “You have my word, my promise. And I vow to always protect you, no matter what.”

         Shelby smiled up at him. “I promise the same, to vow and be there for you, no matter what. Now let’s go kick some demon ass.”

[musingsofmyown]

Missing Case #010

    18 years ago…

  “Sherlock Holmes,”He shook the Detective Inspector’s hand,”Pleasure to meet you Lestrade.”

  “Likewise,” Greg turned and gestured for the ametur to follow him,”I saw how fast you figured out that last scene, let’s see if you can do it again.”

  Lestrade stood back and watched as the young man examined the body in front of them, Anderson was next to him,”You sure that this kid is a good idea?”

  “We’ll see,”to his surprise Sherlock stood up and closed the small compact magnifying glass,”What do ya got?”

  “I’ll spare the details that your forensics group would have already gotten,”He motioned to a spot on the body and started to rattle off a lot of facts that nobody had even begun to think of. His thoughts were detailed and precise, every fact leading into another and then some. Intricate pieces of information that literally nobody would think are important, but Sherlock made it sound like the most crucial part of the investigation,”Therefore the killer was the next door neighbour, might want to bring them in for questioning.”

  “Wait wait,”Greg had a baffled look on his face,”You got all that from a body?”

  “Yes, it’s not all that hard if you know what to look for.”

  “My team has never gone into that much detail, what’s your education Holmes?”

  “Doctorates in Chemistry, other than that, self-taught,”A small grin played on his lips.

  Anderson walked off and Greg stepped closer to Sherlock,”Listen, if you want to ‘help’ out on cases, you’ll have to get yourself clean.”

  “I have no-”

  “I know an addict when I see one Sherlock, I know how hard it is to stop, but you need to if you want to work with me.”

  “Right.”

.

  Four-and-a-half years later…

.

  “Hey there Sherlock, you doing okay? I saw you almost fall over at the scene there,”Gereg came up to him.

  “It’s nothing…” there was a tone of sadness in his voice,”the erm, victim, was a friend of mine back in Uny. I saw him a week ago with his kids and wife.”

  “Oh, Sherlock, I’m sorry to hear about that,”He knew what it was like to find a person you knew laying on the ground surrounded by yellow markers,”Were you close?”

  Holmes shook his head, and then looked at Lestrade with a curious expression,”Your wife is due soon, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah…”Greg took a step back, knowing good and bloody damn well that the last time he deduced something like that, the young man’s partner was giving birth as they spoke.

  Sherlock smiled,”Girl or boy?”

  “A little girl,”Greg was a bit relieved he didn’t say anything else.

  “That’s nice, I’ve always heard that girl’s are easier to manage in their younger years than boys. Then again, I was always a pain, still am,”he said matter of factly,”Also, your wife is about to call.”

  “What?” Just a moment later his phone rang and he answered,”Hello? Ya, ya, oh. Oh! I’ll be there in just a second! Yeah!”

  “You okay there boss?” Donovan asked, seeing that he practically jumped out of his skin.

  “Jen is going into labour!” He started for his cruiser and saw Sherlock standing where he left him,”Get in Sherlock.”

  “What?” the rookie walked over and gave him a questioning look.

  “Just get in!” He got on the passenger’s side and they went off with the lights and siren going,”I want you to be there.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because…”

  “I know it isn’t because I’m your frien-”

  “Sherlock?”

  “Yes?”

  “You are my friend, okay? I know you’re not one for ‘sentiment’ but you are in fact my friend. I am bringing you because you remind me of someone I wish my daughter could meet.”

  “Who would that be?”

  He drew a breath in,”My brother, Thomas. He died of a drug overdose a few years ago. Bright man, graduated from Uny with a PhD in Forensic Sciences.”

  “Oh,”Sherlock furrowed his brow,”Well, I’m sure he’d be proud of you, making a family of your own.”

  Greg nodded as they pulled into the Hospital parking lot,”Alright, stay here until I call you up.”

  “O-okay.”

  After about an hour-and-a-half of waiting, Sherlock got a text ‘We’re on the second floor room 211.’ He went in the elevator, and then came out of it facing room 205. After a moment of very brisk walking he reached 211 and lightly knocked on the door. Lestrade opened it,”Jen, this is Sherlock.”

  “You’re the darling detective Greg talks about all the time, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Holmes.”

  “It’s Sherlock, please,”He sat in one of the chairs that sat in the room.

  “Meet Sterling,”Lestrade picked the baby out of the bassinet that sat next to the bed,”Sterling Opal Lestrade.”

  “She’s beautiful,”Sherlock smiled. His eyes widened when Greg sat the small child in his arms, but quickly relaxed when she looked up at him,”Where’d you get the names from?”

  “The first name is from Greg’s brother, Thomas Sterling Lestrade, and the middle name is from my mother Opal Leeway,”She beamed.

  “Hello Sterling.”

End Case-

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[multific]

Solve a Murder

Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: You were desperate. You needed help and so, you turned to the one man in London who would be able to help.

“Mr. Holmes, I’m here to hire you to solve a murder.”

“And who’s murder would that be?”

“Mine.”

“Pardon?” asked Dr. Watson.

“It’s my step-sister. I suspect she and her husband want me dead. You see, I inherited my father’s land when she thought she would be the one to get it. And now, just the way she looks at me. She offers me drinks, way too often, I suspect she is trying to poison me. I fear for my life, and lately I haven’t been feeling well. You need to help me. Find evidence that she is plotting my death so I can go to the police.”

The two men looked at each other. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have come.” you said as you stood up, they made you feel like you were a fool, but then the Doctor spoke up making you look back at him.

“How long have you been suspecting that she is trying to poison you?”

“About a month. My dad died five months ago, I lost my mum when I was little, so he married another woman who gave him my step sister. My step mum died two years ago, or rather disappeared. Dad left everything to me in his will. And my sister was fuming, saying that she was the one to deserve it. Back that I was so sad, I didn’t even realize she said that. During the four months I was grieving, but then I started to notice things.”

“Things like?”

“Her servants bringing me food and tea, which is a nice gesture but...it’s usually after I already ate. And then I started to get sick a lot more often. I’m not one to fall sick easily. The doctor said it was just a cold, but...I know she did something. The look on her face said it all. She looked happy when I was in bed for a week. I tried asking for help, but everyone thinks I’m paranoid.”

“I believe you.” said Watson as he looked back at Sherlock who only rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s clearly only the mind of a woman, making up scenarios. Why are you really here? You are wasting my time.” his words were harsh. And they hurt. Just as the nice Doctor turned to scold his friend, you spoke up, tear running down your face.

“I hope Mr. Holmes, that you will visit my grave one day. I just wish to see your face when you realize that you were wrong.” you said as you stormed out of the house.

You felt so silly. And to think that you were extremely nervous when you decided to seek for his help. You didn’t even realize that you left your scarf at the house. 

***

You were truly helpless, you didn’t have any friends to talk to, your maids were fired by her, leaving only her trusted ones behind. You were trapped in your own house.

And you didn’t have evidence to go to the police either. Although you looked everywhere in the house for signs. But you were unable to find anything, no bottles, no poison, nothing.

The worst however was that you were gradually falling more ill, day after day.

It felt like you were dying from the inside. So, you called the doctor over.

The doctor said that your illness was due to the loss of your father. The doctor blamed depression, but you knew it wasn’t that. Not with the way your sister was smirking and smiling when she thought you weren’t watching.

One day, you felt so terrible, you couldn’t even get out of the bed. 

And from that day on, you didn’t.

You were so ill, the sun hurt your eyes and you felt useless. You just laid in bed, you weren’t even sure for how long.

You had barely any appetite. And you wondered how many days have passed.

***

“Miss Y/L/N, two gentlemen are here to talk to you. They said they brought your scarf back.” one of the maid’s said before they left, leaving the door open to let the two men in. You tried to sit up, look at least presentable, but you were too weak.

“Miss Y/L/N,” you recognized that voice, that calm and kind voice.

“Dr. Watson,” you said smiling at the man, not noticing that Sherlock was also in the room.

“You left your scarf. Don’t get me wrong, My Lady, but you look very ill.” said the doctor as he placed the cloth by your hand. You grabbed it and thanked him.

“The doctor was just here, yesterday I think. Said it’s only depression.” you said letting out a long sigh. 

“That’s ridiculous. I saw people looking more heathy on their death bed. May I examine you?” you gave him a weak nod, then you turned to Sherlock who was standing on the other side of your bed.

“Will you take my case now, or in a few days when I’m gone?” you asked looking at Sherlock. His eyes met yours.

***

Dr. Watson determined that you needed immediate care in a hospital. Although your sister argued with him, telling him that you already are in the care of a doctor. 

That day, Sherlock took your case. He clearly noticed something which he didn’t’t share at the time.

You were in the hospital for three days, and you already felt better. Every day Dr Watson would come over to talk about the case or ask questions. Although you were sure Sherlock was already close to finding evidence.

***

One day, you were finally better, so you could walk around a little. You were sitting outside, reading a book under a tree when you noticed Mr Holmes making his way over to you. 

“It was the food and the water and the tea and the cookies and everything.” said Sherlock as he sat down beside you. “You were poisoned gradually, small portions on everything you ate, and drank. The maid did it, because your sister ordered her to. Both are in custody as we speak for attempted murder.” he said, but even with your suspicions being right, you didn’t feel better.

“Thank you Mr. Holmes. I will pay you as soon as I get out of here.” you said before turning to look up the tree, watching a little bird hop from one branch to the other.

“Hmm.” you didn’t notice the look Sherlock gave you. But he noticed just how much livelier you looked. Your eyes shined, your skin shimmered in the light. You looked a lot better. “So, as I observed, you are not married. Neither am I.” he said.

You had to admit this was the worst possible way someone tried to court you. You looked at him, eyes wide.

“Pardon?”

“I’m saying that I find you quite beautiful and I would like to know you better.”

“Oh.” 

“Oh? That’s it?”

“Don’t get me wrong Mr. Holmes, I appreciate the compliment, it’s just... Your timing, Sir. I am still in hospital because my sister tried to poison me, my brother-in-law is still out there, possibly stealing everything that he can move from my home. And you are...handsome.” 

“Then, I will be back with the same proposition in a few weeks. Ms Y/L/N.” he said as he stood up and left.

You laughed a little, thinking that he was joking.

After all, what could a man like him possibly want from you?

***

It had been almost a month since you left the hospital.

You were half right about your brother-in-law. He did steal a couple of items when he left, but luckily they didn’t mean anything to you, so you were just happy that he was gone. 

You hired new staff and fired everyone. You were not sure who you could trust.

You also made sure that every food and drink was thrown out or went down the sink. You were not taking any chances. 

The fact that you only had 2 members of staff made you do some work you were not used to. You were no brat and you didn’t mind getting your hands dirty, so you helped with the cleaning where you could. 

You were working in the kitchen, cleaning the cupboards when a voice behind you made you startled. You nearly fell off the furniture as you were cleaning the very top shelves.

“Miss, Mr. Holmes is here.” 

“Thank you, Tina! Let him in, please.”

“He is here, Miss.”

This is when you finally turned around and noticed the man smiling up at you. Tina already left to get back to her duties.

“Nice to see you again, Miss Y/L/N. I must admit, every time we meet I can see a different side of yours. I have never seen a lady on the sink, cleaning the shelves.”

“Well, someone has to do it.” you said slowly climbing down. Sherlock helped you, making sure you won’t fall. “I assume you came for your payment. Give me a moment. I put it in an envelope in the library.”

You said washing your hands before heading into the library. You pulled the drawer of your father’s desk out and pulled the envelope out.

“For your speedy resolution, and for Dr. Watson’s help regarding my health, I added a bit extra. Thank you very much.” you said handing him the payment.

“I actually didn’t come for the payment, Ms. Y/L/N.” he said but you watched as he reached out to take the payment from you and slipped in into his pocket. “I’m here to keep my word. What I said in the hospital, I wish to get to know you better. You seem like a very interesting and smart woman. You realized that your sister was bad, even when everyone, including me, thought that you were delusional. I apologize for that.” you honestly didn’t know what to say. You thought he was a man who wouldn’t see you in a romantic matter. But then again, he just mentioned getting to know you.

“Maybe, you can stay over for lunch? I will cook up something nice.”

“You?”

“Yes, I am yet to hire a new cook, and in the meantime I do the cooking, my old nanny taught me a few recipes.”

“Sounds nice.”

And so, he stayed for lunch, dinner and the next day he came over again and every single day after.

He was charming, and the two of you could speak for hours about everything and anything.

Before you knew it, months, and years passed.

You certainly didn’t think that when you decided to go to Baker Street 221B to ask for help, you would find your future husband.

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[stxleslyds]

MY TOUGHTS ON PART THREE OF RED HOOD BY CHIP ZDARSKY :)

A DC RENDITION OF THE SONG “MOTHER KNOWS BEST” FROM TANGLED.

Here I will leave the links to my reviews of Part 1 and Part 2

Well, here we are, three issues in this story of only six parts and i still cant tell if i like it or not. What i know for sure tho is that Zdarsky never read any Red Hood books, i had my suspicions but now i am at least 95% sure.

This Jason has been nerfed. We had a perfectly balanced Jason back in 2005 he was smart, skilled, confident and strategic. Then from 2011 to 2020 (let’s put the fact that Lobdell is trash aside for a moment) Jason was skilled, he had the whole “chosen one” thing going on with the all-castle, and in some moments you could even see him being quick witted and confident. But now in this first half of this story he is extremely insecure, his skill set and expertise is barely there and is presented as just reckless. 

The other day i was talking about how DC treats Jason, how they just can’t decide on who he is, what motivates him or what he wants. His personality is a whole ass mess, it was fine in 2005 and 2010 when Winick wrote him but then Lobdell from years 2011 to 2020 just couldn't decide what he wanted to do with Jason or his relationship with Batman and his rules. After Lobdell finally left Jason was passed around people who either only read Lobdell's work, or didn't read anything from him or didn't take into account Jason's life because their book was set in a future that may never happen. 

What i am trying to say is that Jason doesn't have a personality, and writers don't really add things to the Jason that we “know”, what they do is start his story from zero over and over again. There is no consistency to Jason's character and while you could argue that maybe this new start could be the definite version of Jason Todd/Red Hood i will point out that this nerfed version of him is a major disservice to the character that he was when he was brought back to DC.

It’s simply not nice. 

And in this particular issue the “Jason isn't that good at this whole vigilante gig” is even more pushed because of the whole “batman knows best” bullshit. I am not getting this (anthologies) book with a Red Hood story just for Batman to come in and be like “I am actually good at this job, you know nothing AND i have the moral high-ground”, this is NOT it.

If you are reading a Red Hood story chances are that you will be interested in Red Hood not Batman. 

Oh one more thing, Jason was an excellent Robin. He was kind, smart and skilled. I liked the flashbacks in UtRH because it showed Jason being all that but he also understood a couple of things about the kind of criminals that Gotham had, your common thug is easily scared of the concept of Batman but the dress-ups knew that no matter what they did the Bat would never kill them, that’s what Jason thought about criminals there.

This Robin Jason is treated rather poorly by Zdarsky at times, he feels insecure and inferior to Dick but he is also dismissive of him and the Robin mantle in the first issue, now in this one he is shown as way too reckless (which is kinda bad because it feeds into DCs favorite trope of “Jason’s death was Jason’s fault”) and his stance on “low level” criminals is weird, like it was made clear that drug related criminals are Jason’s biggest issue, thieves were not. 

Those are my general thoughts on this issue and the current state of Jason’s characterization. I have some panels from this issue that i want to talk about in more depth tho, so here we go. 

The issue stars were we left off once more, Tyler defends Jason and when Batman asks who he is Tyler says that he is the Blue Hood, that was really sweet of him, that child is adorable and he needs to be protected. 

Once the Bat distracts Tyler Jason tells the Bat that the man he killed was Tyler’s dad. 

There are a couple of things i want to point out from these panels, Jason feels incredibly guilty, not about killing Andy but about leaving Tyler in a situation that is similar to the one he was left in when his own mother died. He still believes that Andy was not a good man and deserved to be dead, after all he was drugging his own son and was the reason Tyler’s mom overdosed and is now in the hospital. It just hits incredibly close to home for Jason and i understand completely. 

The other thing i want to point out is that Jason says “I know your rules. No killing in Gotham” so, this is (to me) confirmation that Jason hasn’t killed in a long time and that he has been sticking to the Bat's rules (at least in Gotham). Andy (a drug-dealer) is the only person that Jason has killed since the events of UtRH (that are apparently canon in this story because it was mentioned in the first issue). 

Following this conversation the Bat says that he will take care of Tyler’s mother (yikes, i really thought in my last post that Jason was the one who would have tried to get her the help she needed, to me it seems more appropriate if Jason does it given that this is his story but what do I know) 

This is where this Red Hood story transforms into the Batman show.

Not only will Bruce take care of Tyler's mom but he will clean up the mess and shut down the making of the drug all by himself. Jason tells him that he will do it but the Bat tells Jason that if he wants to do it they will have to do it together because there is no way he is letting Jason out of his sight, he made a mess!

Yes, nothing like making the lead character look incompetent at his job. Love that for Jason.

Before the team up starts Batman and Red Hood go to Leslie's place to leave Tyler with her. This is a good moment only because there is a dog involved, well…Tyler, Jason and a dog are involved, best panel in the whole issue? I think yes.

Maybe I have a couple more panels that are my favs in this issue, here they are, a lil bit of positivity in this extra bitter post.

Now I will be honest, I hate Batman (Bruce’s Batman, love Dick Bats he was the MVP) so him saying that he is helping a Robin makes me want to shoot him. You are not helping; you are overtaking, as you do. Never a team player, the Batgod must always be the center of the show.

Back in the new cave Bruce talks to Jason about the drug and who he thinks might be behind it's production. He also makes sure to let Jason know that he is very smart and might be the only person outside of Crane's circle that knows how analyze a very unstable compound…weird flex but okay. He also teases Jason about his detective skills. Yay.

Flashback time! Get ready!

Robin Jason and Batman are at a crime scene and Jason doesn’t seem to be in the mood to play CSI: Gotham with Bruce.

At one moment Jason says “and then we will stomp the guy who did this” (“this” being murder), which makes Jim Gordon (who came to see if batman was done playing Sherlock Holmes) uncomfortable, so Batman tells Jason to wait for him. As Jason is going he sees someone acting suspicious.

Back to present day Batman and Red Hood are visiting the woman that created the compound that makes Fear Gas, the interrogation starts well but because this is the Batman show and Jason is bad at reading people and asking questions we have a scene that shows Jason being a bit too much.

I honestly thought that the first question was fair, but then after they leave the office they were in Batman basically goes on a rant about the things that Jason missed.

Ok, I get it Batman = good vigilante. Red Hood = Incompetent.

Zdarsky is honestly trying to make us believe that Jason hasn’t picked up any of those things, in his years as Robin with Batman AND Nightwing? They both taught him, there is no way Jason doesn’t know the basics of how to read people. Also do you guys remember Jason in UtRH and Lost Days? That guy read people perfectly, how is UtRH canon in this story, did Jason lose his skills in the explosion when he blew up the Joker?

As if that wasn’t enough Batman calls Red Hood reckless after they don’t agree on what to do next.

To this I say the following: Never again make me believe that Jason will willingly work with Batman. They don’t work together and neither are willing to meet each other halfway, even less let the other lead. This makes the idea of Jason following the Bat’s rules and him being part of the “Batfamily” the joke that it actually is.

They don’t work well together anymore; bring duality back to Gotham 2021.

Back in the past where the previous flashback is resumed we have Jim telling Batman that the new Robin seems a bit too rough around the edges. Did Jim ever meet Dick as Robin? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Dick was a sweetheart but he also beat criminals alongside batman every night. It just doesn’t feel like what Jason said was that much of a violent statement or anything, maybe I just don’t get it.

But don’t worry if you don’t get it, because we are shown Robin Jason going after that suspicious man, he is beating him asking if he knows anything about the murder or what exactly he was doing so close to the crime scene when Batman arrives. Through Batman we are told that that man was no longer a criminal, to which Jason says this, “…The guy is a jewel thief! He will always be a thief” and Batman responds “I refuse to believe that. Didn’t I meet you in the middle of stealing the Batmobile’s tires?”

I can’t believe Bruce went full “It’s over Jason. I have the moral high ground” on Robin Jason.

I mean Jason is OOC, we know this, but he has to be that way in order to make Batman look better when compared to a child. DC hates Jason Todd #Confirmed.

It kinda reminds me of that thing DC does with Dick and Barbara, Dick is skilled and smart as long as Barbara isn’t in the room, if she is then Dick will forget to check if there is someone inside his apartment and then be thrown across the room by her and then be told that he sucks at putting security in his living space.

Moving on...back to the present one last time Jason is interrogating a man while he dangles him from the edge of a building (did Dick teach him that? I bet he did.) After getting some information he calls Oracle so he can make sure that the place he is going to is safe. Oracle tells him the she will help him but she did not like the fact that the last time she helped him someone ended up dead.

Now, fair warning, Barbara and Jason big NO for me and after Geoff Johns and his antics in Three Jokers I have zero love for their “team-ups”.

Jason says this, 

Believing in him? Excuse me? Chonky, baby, she only helped you find a building.

All I can do at this point is pray to whichever god or whoever hears that this does not lead to Jason pinning for Barbara. We don’t need it (Barbara doesnt need it), I might be overreacting, I hope I am, but nobody wants that kind of drama right now, thanks.

When he arrives to the place he was looking for I think everyone can tell that it’s a trap, everyone but Jason apparently. 

How on earth does Jason not realize it’s a trap up until it’s too late? Are you joking? Is this a Red Hood story? Are we really doing this? Just how incompetent is Jason in Zdarsky’s eyes?

Freeze…is it Freeze? I don’t care but he is there, he freezes Jason and that’s the end of the issue.

Listen, I wish I could say that this is the worst Jason has been treated and that this book is horrible, I wish but I can’t. I can’t do it because this isn’t the worst characterization or book of Jason, this is still a pretty good story, could it be better? Yes.

I mean this story is written by someone who obviously doesn’t know Jason and that sucks but it still isnt the worst characterization and it messes me up. Three Jokers was worse than this, certain plot decisions in Future State: Red Hood were worse than this (in my opinion) and Lobdell’s New52 RHatO was pure trash (that is the worst book, just horrible please dont read it). 

I am saying this only to make it clear that even tho this issue was painful (mostly if you don’t like Batman) I still have hope that it can turn out to be good. I cant help it, i want and need this story to be good and there is still time for it to get better. 

Alright thats all i have to say, let me know what you thought about this issue and my review, bye!

[onthecrosslook]

Reverse, esreveR

Tw: S*ic*de Attempt, Dr*g Abuse

Sherlock Holmes was an arsehole. He knew that he was, he felt it- deep inside, a sort of gut emotion that clenched and twisted and made him feel all the more wretched. He really couldn’t control it at this point. It was a habit that had formed from years of keeping every awful thing that had happened to him pent up in his mind. So many years of abuse, so many bruises and scars, and so, so much hurt that left no marks on anywhere but the mind. He knew it was wrong to take it out on those he loved- and even those he didn’t- but it kept resurfacing in the forms of snide comments and manic volatility.

It started one quiet night at Baker Street. It was nothing much, a snappish comment too far, perhaps? Whatever it was, it was the last straw for a livid John Watson, who stood up and kicked over the coffee table in fury. Words bounced off of Sherlock, who heard without listening. Eyes closed, chest feeling empty, Sherlock felt John’s innate rage. Until he didn’t.

When Sherlock opened a single eye, he saw John holding a small box that had been concealed under the table. Sherlock heard a roar in his ears, he could hardly breathe, he was crushed by an overwhelming feeling of guilt- it all just hurt.

John’s steady fingers brushed over the syringe that the box contained. The flat was silent, except for the pounding of Sherlock’s heart- or was he the only one who could hear that?

Glass shattered at his feet. John was yelling, now. Sherlock was pretending to listen.

Sociopath. Liar. Machine.

John was saying those words as if they held no value to Sherlock. Of course, that had been the impression Sherlock had made, so why wouldn’t he say those things?

Sherlock was used to feeling hopeless, but this? This was it. This was all he could take and more. And worst of all? It was cowardly, and Sherlock couldn’t even have the decency to properly listen to John.

Possibly in the middle of John’s sentence, he stood up and mumbled some sort of excuse- that he had to use the loo, maybe? He wasn’t sure.

Dazed, Sherlock walked to the loo and left John alone in the living room. Thoughts were rushing through his head. He couldn’t take this. Not anymore.

He clicked the lock and slid down the door onto the cold, hard tile floor. His hands were shaking, his vision blurry with held-back tears. He didn’t want to do this. Yes, he did. No, he didn’t. Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he?

Trembling fingers pulled open the medicine cabinet. They pulled out a bottle of painkillers. They opened the cap. They poured precisely ten in Sherlock’s other hand.

Ten, because Sherlock had measured the dosage during a particularly bad night. He knew that each pill had 500mg of acetaminophen in them. Over 5000 in one go would certainly kill a man. It had to.

Shaking, crying- although he didn’t realise it, and he never would have admitted it otherwise- Sherlock popped a pill into his mouth one at a time. It was hard to swallow. His throat was rejecting it, so each pill took longer to take. He was shaking his head, not wanting to finish, but knowing he had already taken at least six.

After number ten, Sherlock broke. The tears came freely, now. He mumbled a shattered apology to his mum and dad, to Mycroft, even, and most definitely to John, whom he didn’t want to leave.

With each whispered name, Sherlock popped another pill between his lips. Now he had taken…what, fourteen? Fifteen? He didn’t really care, even though he did. A small part of him was screaming for someone to care, to stop him, to save him- but to no avail.

After a few choked-out sobs, Sherlock regained some of his composure. He wiped his eyes, which were shamefully red, and stood up. He was going to go about this bravely. The toxic shock wouldn’t kick in for at least a few hours, and by then, he would be asleep. A peaceful death. An easy one.

Sherlock unlocked the door and walked back out to the living room, where John was pacing furiously. He looked pale and frightened.

John must have asked something along the lines of “what did you take?” in a worried tone of voice, but Sherlock shook his head. He probably told him that he took nothing. John still looked concerned. He asked him again. Still, Sherlock shook his head. He felt guilty for lying to John.

John relaxed. He nodded, he sat down. He offered Sherlock dinner, but Sherlock politely refused.

Sherlock lied about something or other and said he had a stomachache, that he wanted to go to bed. John reluctantly allowed him to.

At approximately nine o’clock, Sherlock laid down in bed and wrote a short note in his pocketbook. It told whom he wanted his things left to, even though he knew it wasn’t entirely legal. He trusted Mycroft to sort all that out.

His stomach was already starting to ache. He needed to fall asleep.

And so he did, praying that he would never wake up.

Unfortunately, life was decidedly quite cruel.

By the time the clock read midnight, Sherlock realised he had made a terrible mistake. He woke up gasping for breath as his stomach burned. His face felt hot, and his head was pounding. It was as though his insides were tearing themselves apart.

Dazed, he tried to move, but instead fell out of his bed and hit the floor with a groan. Sherlock was so weak that he could not find the strength to move. He threw up, even though he didn’t want to. It meant that the drugs might not work. Mind racing, chest heaving in mild panic, Sherlock wondered if this was how he would die- suffocating on his own vomit and in horrible agony.

Spirits broken, Sherlock whispered John’s name. It hurt too much. He needed John to save him, or else he was going to die.

Sherlock kept whispering it- his lungs wouldn’t allow him to speak up. But John was already upstairs. He couldn’t hear him. Maybe Sherlock didn’t want him to.

He choked out something along the lines of “I don’t want to die”, but slowly, agonisingly, his eyes closed and he faded into unconsciousness.

You could imagine his surprise when he woke up the next morning, every inch of his body aching. His chest burned, and he kept needing to throw up every few minutes, but he was unmistakably alive.

And in some of the worst pain of his life.

He staggered to his feet and made his way to the loo. He threw up again.

For a brief moment, he felt better. He dreaded another racking dry heave that would take hold of his body.

No dice.

After typing a few things onto his laptop- perhaps updating his website with a few unintelligible entries about the side effects of acetaminophen overdose- he went back to the loo and threw up. He hadn’t eaten anything, so it was just stomach acid that burned his oesophagus and made him nauseous. The pain was growing steadily worse, and John wasn’t even awake yet.

For the next hour, Sherlock allowed the poison to simmer in his body, silently attacking his liver and slowly killing him.

John eventually woke up. Of course he did.

When he saw Sherlock’s pale face, he said nothing. When Sherlock nearly tripped down the steps in delirium, John was concerned, but said nothing.

When Sherlock’s knees buckled beneath him, he said something.

What did you take?

Sherlock slurred a half-hearted response, his head aching and his stomach twisting itself inside out. He felt like he was dying. It was probably because his organs were failing.

He clung onto the banister of the staircase as John desperately shook his shoulders. He couldn’t breathe. His brain was shutting down but his eyes and ears still worked. Everything hurt.

Sherlock saw John pull out his mobile and dial Mrs. Hudson’s number before swearing and pulling him outside.

Sherlock faded in and out of consciousness.

He was in a car.

Then a waiting room.

Then an urgent care.

Disappointed, disapproving, and endlessly pitying. Nobody would stop staring.

A nurse said he would be out of their care the same day.

His liver began to fail.

And then he was in an ambulance. He made a hazily rude comment to the EMT.

They stuck a needle in his arm. They did it wrong. It hurt like hell.

I’m clean, he wanted to tell them. Saying he didn’t do drugs anymore would be a flat-out lie.

They put him in a hospital.

His liver reached critical condition. The levels of acetaminophen in his bloodstream were lethal, yet he was somehow still alive. (It would be a case study for months and months to come.)

Sherlock was in the worst pain of his life.

They gave him morphine.

John sat by his bed during the entire ordeal.

He didn’t say a thing.

He didn’t know what to say.

Sherlock almost died.

John looked like he’d aged many years.

Sherlock felt regret.

John held his hand.

Sherlock wished he could turn back time.

John did, too.

༺═──────────────═༻

(Author’s Note: Based on a true story, sad enough to say. It’s sort of my way of giving past experiences a bit of closure. Imbuing writing with pain and anguish is rather cathartic. To tell you the truth, the fact that I’m alive now puzzles doctors and professionals alike. A case study was written on me. I am one of only eleven cases to have ever survived several doses of acetaminophen- enough to kill multiple grown men- at the age of twelve. I’m an anomaly and the fact that I’m here today writing this only proves how strange I am. I can’t say I’m better now. But I’ve learned my lesson. I’m sorry if it was so intense. If you or a loved one are having suicidal thoughts, please tell someone. Don’t make my mistake. And please, for the love of God, if you’re considering it, don’t kill yourself. It would be the biggest and final mistake of your life. People care about you so much. Much love, - AE.)

[afteriwake]

Solace (An “A Future In The Past” Story)

@strangelock221b had a rough day and so I offered to write her a pick-me-up fic in the “Sway” AU, and this is what came out. It’s sweet married domestic fluff between Khan and Molly, so I hope you all enjoy it.

Solace - Molly calls Khan after getting sacked illegally from Barts, but it might turn out all right in the end.

READ @ AO3 | SERIES PAGE

Khan had not expected a phone call from Molly so late in the workday, but as she was nearing the time to deliver their son, and she was worried about the delivery, he should have expected it. Mycroft had had some of the top doctors in the United Kingdom run diagnostic tests of amniotic fluid and blood samples from his son under the strictest confidentiality, so both of their minds were at ease that their son was as normal as Molly was, but the actual delivery had been on Molly’s mind since she’d had to deal with a postmortem on a woman who died in secret childbirth.

“Molly?” he asked, answering his mobile on the second ring. What he got instead of a verbal response was a choked sob, and his hackles went up. “Molly, what’s wrong?”

“I got sacked,” she said, following it up with another sob. “All so the bloody hospital doesn’t have to give me maternity leave.”

He relaxed. He’d worried for a moment that it had to do with Jalen, or even that the sobber hadn’t been Molly and perhaps had been Mary on her mobile, delivering news that Molly was gone. To hear she had been sacked was bad, but not nearly as bad as what he had let filter through his mind.

“Mycroft owes you a favour still, right?” he asked.

There was a soft hiccup. “He does, yes.”

“Let him yell at hospital administrators. Get on the phone with Lestrade and have him yell on Scotland Yard’s behalf. Have Sherlock find blackmail. You have options. You can get your post back, if you really want it.”

“I do, but...I don’t. It was just so sudden and I wasn’t prepared at all.”

“Head home. I’ll meet you there and we’ll spend tonight plotting.”

“No head-bashing.”

“No head-bashing.” He paused. “Can I break a kneecap or two at least?”

She giggled this time, and the last knot of fear in the pit of his stomach evaporated. She was going to be fine. “No, Khan. No violence.”

“Then what else am I good for?” he asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“Kisses. And shagging. And foot massages.”

“Head home and I’ll prepare a bath for you with your favorite things, and I’ll give you a foot massage and a back rub. And we can have a takeaway and watch those rubbish romantic comedies you’re so fond of.”

“I don’t deserve you, you know.”

“Don’t ever say that,” he said quietly. “It is I that doesn’t deserve you. But I strive every day to be a better man for you.”

“I love you, I do.”

“I love you too, Molly. I’ll leave now and meet you at home.”

“Okay.” She hung up and so did he, and after checking on the schematics he’d drawn up one last time he gave them to his assistant and gave him instructions on how to proceed before going into the office he used when consulting and got his coat. He slipped it on and went to the car to drive home. He’d picked up driving reasonably easily, with some defensive driving skills imparted on him by Mary during their lessons, and now it was one of the times he took to unwind from his day.

He was angry underneath it all, but not angry at Molly. He was angry on her behalf for being sacked. She was a brilliant pathologist, and an excellent researcher and Barts should have just given her the damn maternity leave and welcomed her back in a year and a half with open arms. She could go anywhere, but he knew she loved the work she did on behalf of Scotland Yard, and she loved working on Sherlock’s cases, and it was a blow to be unceremoniously sacked from a job she loved so much.

If she wouldn’t let him in on bringing the hospital board to their senses, at least he could give her something to ease the hurt.

He called in their Indian takeaway order to pick up on the way home, the phone situated in its holder. He could easily concentrate while driving and chatting, but even he had trouble handling the phone and the wheel at the same time. The gift had been from Molly and he appreciated it quite a bit. Before he got to the restaurant he went to Tesco and picked up some ice cream to take the heat of the Indian food away, and also picked up a bouquet of flowers while he was at it.

Once he got the food and had a chat with the owners about their business and their day he headed home to find Molly curled up on the sofa. She seemed to perk up when he stepped into the sitting room. “Flowers? How lovely!”

“I thought you deserved something pretty for the kitchen table,” he said, setting the lilies down on the coffee table and then setting their dinner down after that. “Ben wanted to know how much longer until the baby would come. He suggested the spicy dishes if you want the baby delivered earlier than later.”

Molly smiled, picking up the lilies and getting off the sofa slowly to go get a vase. “I’ve had his special dish and Jalen still won’t make an appearance,” she said.

“Jalen is stubborn, like his father,” Khan said. “I got you Speculoos ice cream to take away some of the heat of your dish. Ben made it extra hot for you.”

“The heartburn is worth it,” she said, pulling down a vase and filling it with water. “I’m so glad Mary took you there. It really hits the spot for my spice cravings.”

“I’ve noticed.” He set the ice cream next to her takeaway and then went to go get them forks and a spoon for the ice cream. “Have you called in your favour?”

“Mycroft said this was a freebie. I help keep Sherlock in line, therefore he wants me at Barts. I know Sherlock promised to behave with my replacement while I was on maternity leave, but that was when I’d be a phone call away to...well, give guidance or approval or whatever. Being sacked, I have no authority.”

“All that to avoid maternity leave, though?” he asked.

“I’m not the only one it’s happened to. Just the highest level staff. Meena said two nurses in caridology were sacked while on maternity leave. They’re planning on filing suit against Barts. I might join them, even if I get my position back.” She put the lilies into the vase and then brought it back to the coffee table. “Even if I decide it’s not worth going back, that’s a lawsuit I may be willing to join. I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh?”

“What if I am a stay-at-home mum? I have plenty in savings, we own this place outright, you get a significant sum from the government for the work you do...you’re only a consultant now, we could be hands-on parents if I don’t go back to Barts.”

“What about your research?” he asked, sitting down and watching her lower herself onto the sofa. She sat with her head against the armrest and stretched out, and he took one of her feet in his hands and began to massage it gently. Her ankles weren’t quite swollen but it was obvious if she hadn’t been sacked she’d have to have started maternity leave soon; she needed to be off her feet sooner rather than later.

“I can do that for any hospital, or any university. And before you ask about Sherlock, he was going to have to get used to a replacement. Now he can without dragging me back in when I want to be with my son. Or...well, John and Mary have two children under the age of five now. And they both work at the surgery rather hard. I was thinking...I could volunteer to...help him?” She sounded almost hopeful as she said that.

Khan was quiet, continuing to massage her feet. Sherlock was, by far, one of his least favorite people to deal with, but they were at least on cordial terms these days. If Molly wanted to be his assistant, take John’s place sometimes, he could rearrange parenting and work schedules around it. If going on cases would make her happy, why would he stop her? “I can just see Jalen in one of those back strapped baby carriers at a crime scene,” he said, giving her a grin.

“So you don’t object?” she asked.

“Not really, no. If that’s what you want to do, we can make it work. But...don’t give up your research completely. You’re more than a brilliant pathologist, you’re a tremendously good researcher as well.”

“I won’t.” She took her takeaway and set the carton on her chest, just above her pregnant belly. “You know, it was such a shock, but maybe it’s a good thing.”

“Well, eat your supper and then I’ll run you a bath and sit with you and we can plot and plan,” he said. “And maybe we’ll be lucky and this will have been the hardest thing we deal with tonight.” Molly beamed at him and then took one of the forks and began to dig into her food while he switched feet for her. For what had started off as an emergency, it seemed all right now. If she was happy, that was the important thing, wasn’t it? It was to him, at least. And he’d do whatever it took to make her and their future son as happy as he possibly could.

[kyber-crystal]

Maybe It’s Meant To Be

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~3.7k

Summary: Sometimes, love finds people in unexpected ways. In this case, fate has extra special plans for America’s golden boy and one of SHIELD’s best agents in history. And you know there’s no running away from fate once she’s set out your futures for you. 

Warnings: mentions of violence and blood, angst, and once again, soft steve :)

A/N: I haven’t attempted a soulmate AU in over a year. this is one of my fav works but it’s really poorly written rip. The age gap between you and Steve is ~3 years. 2017 AU where they made up after the Accords :) Steve’s back with his WS look bc that suit was hot af

Tags: @pies-writes-and-more​ this is for you! THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS BEING SO ACTIVE ON MY BLOG AND FOR YOUR SWEET AND SUPER ENCOURAGING WORDS. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. AND @marvelsswansong BECAUSE YOU'RE MY IDOL AND I LOOK UP TO YOU YOU'RE AMAZING

Soulmates.

You'd heard plenty about them growing up. Seeing your parents' perfect relationship blossom over the years piqued your interest, and for the longest time, your only wish was to find someone who could love you with their whole heart and soul and mind, like the way your Mom and Dad loved each other.

Unfortunately, as all stories must come to an end, love stories had to find their ending. And not all of them ended on a high note.

Their jobs should've kept them apart from the beginning. Your mother was head surgeon at one of the best hospitals in Brooklyn, and your father was head of SHIELD's navy division. Constantly out and about, they were rarely granted any time to rest. Yet they still found a way to make things work; and it all started because of a run-in at a café around the corner.

Then when you were fifteen, you got word that your father had been deployed overseas again, but this time, he wasn't coming back.

You had to stand there and watch your mother slowly fall apart, breaking down a little more each day until she fell gravely ill. A mere week after her diagnosis of cardiomyopathy, she passed away in her sleep.

A person's soulmark didn't appear at a specific time. It could show up at any point in their lives, when the Gods believed the time was right for them. When those Gods felt the time was right for you to find out who it was, you'd feel a slight tingle where the mark was etched into your skin.

Some people didn't receive the soulmark at all. Along with this came a sense of freedom to fall in love with whoever they pleased, but often times it would end in a loveless relationship. But they were additionally granted the ability of being able to carry on by themselves.

If your soulmate got injured in any way, you would feel the same pain that they endured. And if they died, you would carry a weight around with you for the rest of your life that slowly progressed into a disease. So ultimately, those left in the world without their soulmate would also die in the end, further proving the claim of humans being unable to live without love.

One by one, you watched your friends find their match. They would excited come up to you, goofy grins on their faces as they showed you their marks. You were happy for them in the beginning, of course. But as years went by, and you passed adulthood with still no sign of your designated soulmark, you slowly began losing hope. There was no point in looking forward to the future when you watched one fall apart before your very eyes.

Maybe it was because of your job. None of the Avengers had received their soulmarks either, asides from Tony and Pepper. But they were an exception. Everyone could see it coming from the day they first met, judging by the way they lovingly gazed at each other from across the room. It was a match made in heaven.

You believed that maybe, just maybe, you were destined to be alone. So when you woke up one morning with the burn mark on your wrist, you were taken completely by surprise.

"Hey, Tony? Bruce?" you asked, walking into the lab with a frown. "I need to ask you guys a quick question."

"Ask away, Killer," Tony nodded, using the nickname he'd given you years ago when you first joined the initiative. "What's on your mind?"

"So, um..." you fiddled with the sleeve of your sweatshirt for a moment, before pulling it up to reveal the mark, "this happened."

"That's a soulmark," he stated.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," you rolled your eyes. "But why would it appear now? I don't see any sign of me meeting them anytime soon."

"When did it appear?"

"I don't know. I woke up this morning and saw it."

"Let me take a look at that," Bruce carefully took ahold of your wrist, squinting as he adjusted his glasses to peer at the mark, "huh. So it appeared last night...have you felt any side-effects?"

"Not that I know of yet, no..."

"If you start feeling any severe symptoms, I can prescribe you some medication to deal with the pain, though I doubt that's going to happen. In the meantime, we need to figure out who this could be."

"Imagine if it was someone who already died, and I'm slowly dying right now," you joked.

"No, if that were to be true, you'd be lying in a hospital bed right now."

"Does the symbol have any specific meaning?"

"That I'm not so sure about," Tony shrugged.

Bruce was silent as he began typing away for a bit, before turning the screen over to you.

"I've checked out over a dozen different sites about this, and..."

"And what?"

"Well...once both people discover their mark, they have a week to find each other before both of them disappear off the face of the earth, forever."

"Sounds like a damn time bomb to me," you muttered. "What the hell? I thought that the point of this whole thing was the gods trying to push us with someone else! Not the other way around!"

"I don't know, Y/N," Bruce sighed. "Feel free to do your own research, but everything I've read up on so far says the same thing."

"So basically, what you're telling me is I'm gonna die if I don't find out who the hell has this same mark as I do," you repeated.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Well, I'll have to worry about that later. Got a briefing with Cap, Bucky, and Wilson in five. Fury's gonna kill me if I'm late again," you breathed out as you tugged your hoodie's sleeve back down. "See ya."

"Agent Y/N," Nick Fury gave you a curt nod as you burst into the meeting room, breathless. "I hope you slept well last night."

"Of course."

"I need you four to track down a weapons dealer in Skagway," he explained as he handed Steve a black manila file folder, "shut down the base, download the intel onto the flashdrive. You’ll be staying at a safe house in Juneau afterwards for about a week to keep things on the down-low in case something goes wrong. Simple in-and-out job."

"When are we leaving?" Sam questioned.

"You're taking off in half an hour. Suit up."

You sighed. Finding your soulmate would just have to wait, then.

...

"Y/N, look out!"

You quickly whipped around and narrowly missed a bullet whizzing past you, as Steve tugged you around the corner, an arm wrapped firmly around your torso as he hid you both behind his shield.

You gasped as you felt a sharp pain in your chest, and Steve immediately pulled away from you in alarm, gripping your shoulders worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you panted, trying to steady your rapid breathing, “I’m fine. But we’re gonna have to split up from here if we wanna get the job done faster.”

“Y/N, I can’t-”

“Steve,” you interrupted, the firm tone of voice making him immediately shut up. “I can handle myself just fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure! Go find Sam and Bucky, and I’ll meet you guys by the rendezvous point as soon as I’m done. Okay?”

“Alright.” He looked around for a moment before stepping away, as if he was hesitant to leave you on your own.

Ignoring the slight ache in your chest, you parted ways, darting down the hall with your guns up and ears alert. 

From there, it was easy to fall into your usual routine. Keep all eyes and ears open; don’t hesitate, shoot on sight unless ordered otherwise. If necessary, engage powers but if not, use your fists or bullets. The mantra repeated itself over and over in your head as you followed through with your job.

You hid behind a tower of wooden crates, back pressed up against the steel walls. “Sam. Status update?”

“Controls room with Barnes, disabling all security systems. Steve’s retrieving intel from the north wing. You?”

“Outside on standby,” you murmured, keeping a finger pressed to your ear. Three technicians were loading equipment onto crates as the other six stood guard several yards away. “I make nine hostiles on the load dock straight ahead at twelve o’clock. Three dozen in total scattered around the area. Most likely preparing for an overseas arms trade. We’ll have to stop them.”

“And...done. We’re heading your way,” Bucky reported. “Be there in three.”

“Roger that.”

Exactly three minutes and two seconds later Bucky showed up, with Steve and Sam in tow. You came out from your hiding spot and began making your way towards the loading dock where the agents were stationed. They were quick to stop what they were doing and noticed the four of you approaching, whipping their snipers out and proceeding to open fire.

...

Your breath came out in white wisps of fog as you got caught in between a fistfight with one of the three dozen men on the docks, the freezing cold slowing all your movements and making them feel more sluggish than usual. If it weren’t for the thick material of your suit and your enhancements, you would’ve succumbed to the harsh weather hours ago.

The man captured you into a tight headlock with his thick arm but despite your frostbite you were too fast; you quickly whipped around and grabbed his wrist, twisting it to the side. His eyes widened slightly as he cried out in pain, the sickening crunch of bone echoing through the frigid Alaskan air as you swiftly dodged each one of moves as he attempted to come at you, countering with a sharp right hook to his jaw. 

His body slumped to the ground with a thump. 

“Why the hell do you even carry around a sniper if your fists do all the work for you?” Sam yelled over the cacophony as he released Redwing, swooping down from the rooftops. “Seriously, you don’t need guns! You’re strong enough as it is!”

“I prefer versatility in fights, Wilson!” you yelled back, grunting as you dodged a blow to the stomach, sweeping out your attacker’s feet from underneath him as his head smacked against the wall, before sliding down to the ground with a dull thud. 

“Y/N, look out-” Bucky called out, but it was too late. You didn’t get to hear his warning in time before you felt something cold and hard hit your lower abdomen. A yell of pain ripped through your throat as you felt a sticky warmth spread across your skin, your knees hitting the ground as you clutched the wound.

At that exact moment, Steve felt a sharp pain flare up his side as well. “Shit,” he cursed to himself, “Buck, cover me so I can get to her.”

You were barely clinging on to life by the time he reached you. Your breathing was heavy and labored, your eyes beginning to roll back as you struggled to stay awake. Everything hurt. Your arms and legs felt like they were weighed down with bricks. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t open your mouth to scream, either - you had no energy left to do so.

“Come on, Y/N, stay with me, please stay with me,” he muttered as he began carefully applying pressure to your wound. You let out a hiss of pain at the same time he did. “Just hang in there for me, please. Sam’s getting the Quinjet ready. We’re gonna get out of here in just a few minutes, okay? Please don’t die on me.”

“Look, if I don’t make it-”

“Don’t say that,” he spoke in between clenched teeth while fighting back tears of his own, “you’re not going to die. Not today, not tomorrow, and certainly not on my watch.”

“Steve…” you croaked out, the stinging from the wound almost becoming impossible to bear. Your eyes were becoming heavier by the second, your body throbbing painfully now that all the adrenaline had worn off. It was a struggle just to take in a single breath and to stay awake. "I'm so tired, I can't do this anymore..."

He disappeared from your line of sight as your began seeing spots at the edges of your vision momentarily, before reappearing and pulling you into his lap, trying to put pressure on the area of injury again in an attempt to stem the bleeding. But it didn’t seem to work. There was so much blood. So much of it, coming out so fast. There was no way you’d last out here for longer than ten minutes before bleeding to death.

"Stay with me..." he murmured as he looked up around him. "Hang in there for a few more minutes, please…Damn it, Sam, how much longer is this gonna take? Y/N’s down. We gotta get her to the safe house as soon as we can. She’s bleeding out.”

"Three minutes, tops. I’m circling the perimeter as an extra precaution," Sam replied. "You guys hang tight for a sec."

"We don't have time!" he raised his voice. "Just hurry the hell over here."

"I'm so sorry," you choked out before going into a coughing fit, blood dripping down your lips and chin much to Steve’s alarm. "I'm sorry for everything, I'm sorry for being reckless and not keeping a look ou—"

"Shhh, it's okay," he soothed, "There’s nothing to be sorry about. Just save your energy for later, okay? You're gonna be just fine."

"Hold my hand," you begged hoarsely.

"I already am," the super-soldier answered, but his look shifted to that of an alarmed one when he realized you couldn't feel it. "Y/N—"

"I'm cold," you said weakly, already feeling your limbs grow heavy and numb and your vision growing blurrier with each passing second. "I'm so tired, Cap, I just wanna sleep—"

"No no no, please don't leave me," he pleaded as he felt his head begin to spin as well. Where had the sudden wave of dizziness come from? "Hang in there for a little longer, please, I l—"

You didn’t get to hear the rest of his sentence before your eyes fluttered shut and everything went dark.

...

When you came to, your throat felt dry and raw, the metallic taste of dried blood around your lips and chin overwhelming your senses as you adjusted your eyes to the harsh bright lights streaming into the room. It looked like you were in some sort of antique coastal house, strangely void of belongings with the only decoration being a plain floral calendar hung on the wall opposite you, above the fireplace.

You were still in your suit, but your wound had been treated and wrapped up in a thick set of bandages. The couch you were on was old but extremely comfortable, so you found yourself not wanting to sit up at the same time you wanted to get up and look around.

The blinds were drawn shut, but the sunlight still managed to shine through. It was light outside, but you  weren’t sure what time it really was. The walls were a dull grey, and if you listened hard enough you could hear the faint ticking of a nearby clock and probably Bucky or Sam talking on the phone upstairs with someone in hushed whispers.

You finally pulled yourself up into a sitting position, glancing around at your surroundings. Someone quietly entered the living room and you looked up to see Steve. His shoulders sagged in relief upon seeing that you were awake.

“Hey,” his voice came out so softly it took both of you by surprise. You moved over slightly to make room for him to sit. “How are you feeling?”

“Like crap,” you groaned lightly, feeling a dull ache in your stomach where you’d been hit. “But other than that, I’m fine. What about you? Did you get hurt anywhere?”

“Body aches that come and go, but I’m fine. It isn’t your place to be worrying about me right now though, Y/N. You got shot.”

The curtains fluttered and a cool breeze rushed in, making you shiver. Steve took notice and stood up to go light up the fireplace, then sat back down and wrapped the fleece blanket around your body. You let out a small sigh of contentment. “Thanks.”

“Are you sure you’re alright? You knocked out for over twenty-six hours .”

“I’m fine, Steve, just tired...hey, how’s Bucky and Sam?”

“Sam’s upstairs radioing Fury on the mission status. Bucky’s taking a nap in the guest room.”

“Oh. Okay. So, I-” you were interrupted by a sharp stabbing sensation in your wrist. “Ow. Fuck.”

“Language,” he joked lightly, but when he saw the obvious pained expression on your face, his face fell. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just...I get those random pains from time to time. I don’t know why, but...they’ve gotten worse since we took off for Skagway and then came here...”

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, eyes glassy with unshed tears, “I should’ve kept a closer watch over you. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine...I should’ve watched my own back better.”

You both fell into an awkward silence for several minutes before he spoke up again, the realization finally dawning on him. 

"Y/N."

"What?"

"Your wrist."

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked down and saw the star glowing brightly, sending a white-hot pain down your arm. "What about it?"

Steve pulled at his shirt's sleeve for a few seconds before lifting it up to reveal the same exact symbol.

"We're soulmates," you breathed out, the realization hitting you like a flash flood.

"Yeah, I guess we are, huh," he smiled softly.

“W-when did yours appear?”

“Monday afternoon.”

“Mine appeared in the morning...I showed it to Tony and Bruce and they said I had a week to find who it was or both me and my soulmate would die. So I guess we got lucky, huh? Only four more days, then...”

“Yeah, we did,” he exhaled. “I’m glad you’re the one. I can’t imagine living out the rest of my life with anyone else.”

“But Peggy...”

“She found her soulmate decades ago,” he explained, “which explained why our relationship was so short-lived. I didn’t expect to find mine...especially not after coming out of the ice. Maybe I had this coming from the get-go, I’d wonder...”

“Then how come they’d appear now?” Your brows furrowed together in confusion. “I don’t get it. We’ve known each other for years.”

“Because it was only this year that I accepted it.”

“Accepted what?”

“That I’d fallen in love with you, and I kept that inside for far too long.”

“You...what?” You were officially rendered speechless. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled lightly, face breaking into a gorgeous, million-dollar grin before turning serious again, lowering his voice. “Y/N, I’m in love with you. You are my infinity and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re my present and my future, and I hate that I couldn’t see that sooner. I should’ve known from the start that Peggy and I wouldn’t work out, but I never understood why...until I met you. I didn’t believe in the concept of soulmates because I felt I was undeserving of that love, but then you came along...and I started hoping and praying I’d find someone who’d love me as much as I love you. So now that I know for sure it’s you, that it always has been and always will be...I couldn’t be more happier that you’re my soulmate.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until he reached forward to brush your hair away from your face and wipe the stray tears that fell, before wrapping an arm around you and gently pulling you towards him.

“God, I made you cry, I’m so sorry,” he choked on a sob of his own. “I’m the worst.”

“I’m not mad at you, Steve,” you sniffed as you wiped your nose with your sleeve, and looked up and cracked a small grin. “You’re just so cheesy.”

“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, so quiet you almost didn’t catch what he said. 

“You can kiss me any day, Captain,” you smiled.

“I love you more than you know.”

“I know. I love you too.”

He then brought a hand up to cup your face, allowing his thumb to lightly skim against your cheek, his warm breath fanning against your skin.

When his lips met yours, it was like you were turning back the clock. Everything in the world stopped and held its breath,  and all the hurt, all the sadness and heartache and pain bottled up inside your body, washed away.

...

BONUS

“HOLY SHIT, Y’ALL ARE SOULMATES?”

The sound of Sam’s screeching made you finally break apart for air. You could’ve been like that for two minutes, two hours, or two weeks, you weren’t sure.

You blushed and quickly averted your gaze. 

Steve’s face was as red as a tomato. “Yeah. We are.”

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW SOMETHING WAS GONNA HAPPEN BETWEEN THEM SOON! PAY UP, BARNES! YOU OWE ME TWENTY BUCKS.”

“Come on, man,” Bucky groaned, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. “We’re gonna head back home soon, anyways! And you’re not even poor.”

“A bet’s a bet, Barnes.”

“Of course you two bet on it,” you groaned. “Classic Sambucky activity.”

...

NINE MONTHS LATER

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Captain Rogers,” Fury announced, a rare smile gracing his normally stoic features. 

Steve did his best not to break down sobbing as he slid the ring onto your finger. With the backdrop of the waves gently crashing against the shore and the sun slowly sinking lower and lower into the horizon, he leaned down and cupped your face in his hands, passionately pressing his lips to yours. Your soulmarks glowed brightly in tandem, lighting up in a brilliant gold hue. 

Needless to say, there wasn’t a single dry eye in the house. 

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 6

Day 6 - When your soulmate is injured you will experience pain in that area

Pairing(s): Analoceitmus [ambiguous, can be read romantic or platonic, or a mix], QPR Royality 

TWs: Injury mention, swearing, Remus being Remus near the end 

–

“I’m going to sue him.”, Logan hissed, attempting to sit up in his hospital bed, “Soulmate or not, how can one man possibly be so irresponsible?! I’m definitely going to sue him.”

He winced as he tried to get comfy, but the tough mattress and uncomfortable bunching of the sheets said suffer. 

And boy, was he. 

Logan Sanders was an immaculate, careful man. Had been since he was a child. A neat and tidy lad who - upon learning of the rules of fate - made it his utmost mission to spare his soulmate any pain or anguish for as long as he could manage. 

His soulmate, however, didn’t seem to share that sentiment.

From childhood, Logan found himself with sudden knee pains from scrapes he never fell for, abrasions he had caused no friction to gain, and the occasional shoulder or back pain as if he’d been pushed over when he was standing perfectly upright. At least the universe had decided to spare humanity the anguish of leaving soulmates with the physical injuries that came with the pain, but it was only a minor comfort.

Logan couldn’t say he hadn’t expected a lot of rough and tumble from his soulmate after his elementary school years, but really; a broken leg, facial burns, and a splintered forearm? “This is absolute bullshit.”, he bitterly muttered, “Barely hours apart! How is that even possible?!”

His ranting went ignored by the nurse who came to administer his medication; thankfully science had worked out a wonderful little clear pill that could banish the pain from particularly debilitating soulmate pains. The little bastards were expensive - the true pain is always capitalism within the medical world -  but Logan’s job paid handsomely. Say what you will about computer nerds and whatnot, but programming for the right people lets you make some seriously high end bread. None of that homemade farmer’s market shit.

Unfortunately, he’d have to wait about a week for his pains to ebb gently into nothingness until the klutz of a man fate paired him with got into MORE trouble. Thus Logan couldn’t get back to his work. His leg was, for all intents and purposes, broken so the staff couldn’t let him go home. He couldn’t simply drive home himself either, his splintered forearm saw to that. And Logan couldn’t even ask his roommate Emile to bring him his work laptop to try and keep his workload at bay, his left eye was too cloudy and painful to concentrate on a screen. 

Yes; his soulmate BETTER be paying his hospital bills.

Realisation struck Logan; his soulmate is obviously just as injured, ergo it’s a high probability that he could be somewhere within the hospital too. Using his good hand to reach for a pen, and absolutely dreading adding to his pain, Logan poked the tip into his good arm, wincing as he first attempted to contact them with simple morse code, “My/ Name/ Is/ Logan. Who/ Are/ You?”

He waited for a response, fearing he would have to start scratching his name onto his arm when he felt the little jabs in response,  “Janus.” Great. He FINALLY had a name to put on the lawsuit. Logan, already wincing at the bee-sting pain from the pen, he jabbed out another message,

“Are/ You/ Currently/ Staying/ At/ Stokes/ General/ Hospital?”

The reply came cryptically,

“Yes / I / -”

Logan wasn’t sure why his soulmate had suddenly stopped replying. Had a nurse confiscated whatever his soulmate was using to poke himself? Either way, Logan would have to be content with the knowledge his soulmate was at least close by. He truly had no idea how close until two very disgruntled voices were within earshot of his room door,

“Brilliant, I just adore being ousted from my comfortable bed so I could spend even longer looking at your delightful face.”

“Oh, like you’re the victim here, asshole! You’re the one stabbing yourself and fucking up my unbroken arm!”

Logan watched them both argue outside of his room door. Both men were sporting similar injuries to his own; the first one that had spoken, refined looking gentleman with sharp features and neat blonde hair, had the left side of his face bandaged heavily. Meanwhile the other man, sporting raven hair and eye bags that could carry a month’s worth of groceries, was fitted with a cast on his left forearm. Both of them were on crutches, though Logan couldn’t see if either had a genuine cast.

“Ahem. Gentlemen?”

Logan called to them, watching as both turned to meet his gaze. He lifted the pen in his hand and asked, “I take it one of you is Janus?”

The man with the bandages over his eye, Janus, nodded, “That would be me.”

The man with the broken arm looked confused, “Wait, so, you’re the one who was ramming a pen into their arm? Damn.”, he turned, begrudgingly to the first man, “I guess I owe you an apology then.”

“Really you needn’t-”

“Then I shan’t.”

Janus glared at the other man’s snark, but Logan found it rather delightful. Clearing his throat once more, he breached the topic, “I take it that means we three are soulmates?”

“Four.”

Logan and Janus looked to the third man as he explained, “Your leg doesn’t have a proper cast on it, this asshole doesn’t have one either,”, Janus gifted the man a half glare and a middle finger before he continued, “And since I don’t have one, it’s pretty obvious there’s a fourth musketeer.”

Fair to say, Logan was impressed, even Janus was hiding the tiniest hint of admiration as he retorted, “And are we to call you Sherlock or D’artagnan?”

The man rolled his eyes, “Ha ha, fuck you. My name’s-”

“VIRGIL!!”

The man, Virgil, nearly lept out of his skin, jerking his arm and giving the three of them a jolt of pain. Logan felt relieved he’d only have to put up with it for a few more days once the medicine took effect. 

In the doorway stood a man who could only be described as unnecessarily handsome, clad in a burgundy bomber jacket and a Nightmare Before Christmas shirt that seemed out of place on someone who stood poised like the protagonist of a romance anime. Logan noted he and Janus both checked to see if his leg was broken; good to know they had similar tastes even if the man’s lack of a cast dashed their hopes. Said handsome man made a beeline for Virgil, only to receive a swat and a motion to back off, 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Princey, you nearly gave me a heart attack!!!”, Virgil hissed and took a deep breath. ‘Princey’ let out a fond huff, “You should be so lucky, Bring Me The Depression, do you know how worried Pat and I were when we couldn’t find you!? This, dearest Emo Nightmare, is karma at its finest-!”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, Roman. Where’s Pat? He’s gonna wanna meet my soulmates.”

Roman blinked, finally registering Logan and Janus just watching the two of them reunite. Clearing his throat, Logan made the introductions, “I’m Logan Sanders, this gentleman is-”

“Janus Delgado. Charmed I’m sure.”, Janus butt in, “Really, Logan, I can introduce myself. Unlike some people.”

Virgil flipped him off just in time for Roman to frown in confusion, “And…. you’re all sure you’re soulmates? I mean, no offense but you don’t...”, he picked his words carefully, his face contorting at the effort, “....act like soulmates?”

The three of them looked between one another and shrugged, “To be perfectly fair - Roman, yes? - we have all literally just met today under…. Less than optimal circumstances. I doubt you and your soulmate, assuming you’ve found them, hit it off instantly.”

Roman blinked, “Kind of, we didn’t have any problems like this, quite honestly...”, he almost sounded guilty at that notion, “The worst we have to deal with is his cat allergies-”

Out in the hallway, a couple of nurses hurriedly walked past and allowed another man into the room who immediately lit up at the sight of Roman and Virgil, “There you both are!!! I got held up at the vending machine, but when I came back you were both gone!”

“Patton! How glad I am to see you once more!”, Roman beamed, pulling the taller man into a hug and planting a dramatic kiss upon his cheek, to which Logan, Janus, and Virgil simultaneously met with an ‘ugh’. Perhaps they were more alike than they first assumed. 

Patton turned to meet Janus and Logan’s gaze, looking back to Virgil who explained, “They’re two of my soulmates, Pat.”

For a moment, the tall excitable ball of sunshine looked like he was about to pop with joy when Roman held up a hand to interject, “Pardon me, but ‘two of’?”, and cast his confusion towards Virgil who explained, “Our last soulmate has a broken leg, it’s the only injury we can’t account for.”

Patton and Roman shared a momentary look, drawing Logan’s attention, “Roman? Patton? Are you both alright?”. The two seemed to play eye contact rock-paper-scissors to decide who would answer, with Roman losing apparently.

“When exactly did you feel the pain in your leg?”

“Couple hours ago” “Around three?” “Precisely 3:27 pm.”

Came the chorus of answers. Janus and Virgil both shot Logan a look, to which he quietly murmured, “It never hurts to provide a little extra clarity.”

“Apparently so,”, Janus began, before shifting his partial gaze to the couple, “So, are you lovebirds-”

“Qpp’s.”, Patton corrected quietly, to which, Janus did apologise, “Pardon me. So, are you queer platonic saps going to clue us in to why exactly you asked us such a specific question?”

Roman sighed, “I ask because my brother, Remus, broke his leg at that exact same time today. Pat and I were going to visit him right after we’d checked in with Virgil.”

The three soulmates shared a collective look, but the first one to pipe up was Virgil, “You have a brother?! Why am I only finding this out now, I’ve known you for 12 fucking years, Roman! What the fuck!?”

Logan exasperatedly ran a hand down his face as he tried to maneuver himself out of his bed and into one of the hospital’s wheelchairs, Janus offering a hand to him, “Virgil, as much as I would love to listen to you and Roman bicker back and forth, could we possibly save such trivialities for after we meet our fourth soulmate?”

This time Patton piped up, “Oh, um, you may not want to do that just yet-”

As if on cue, roughly six or seven medical staff rushed by, causing Patton and Roman to quickly look around the doorway, only to turn back to the others, “Well, no time like the present. Patton, if you help Virgil, I’ll help Janus once Logan can shimmy into that wheelchair.”, Roman assigned as he offered an arm for Logan to hold onto while he got himself in the chair. Noting the context clues, Logan was rightfully worried, especially as he felt a new pain in his hand, only to note that while Roman and Patton helped them move, Virgil and Janus seemed to be experiencing more pain in their legs than before. In the moment, Logan did feel a little bad that the pill he’d taken hours earlier was saving him from too much additional pain. Approaching the hospital room the medical staff had gathered within, the group were greeted with a wild scene.

A scruffy man strikingly similar in looks to Roman - albeit sporting a thin moustache and silver hair streak - wearing a leg cast was holding a crutch in one hand and an honest to god butterfly knife in the other, standing atop his hospital bed, raving like a lunatic and gesturing frantically to an empty space in the room,

“NOW WILL SOMEBODY FINALLY LET ME OUT OF HERE?! ME AND THIS BEAR WANNA GO CATCH HORNY FISH AND SHIT IN THE WOODS!!” 

Charming. 

Logan glanced over at Patton and Roman, the question clear on his face just like their answer. That was Remus alright. He watched Roman talk with a nurse trying to calm Remus, “We gave him some painkillers to ease his leg pains, but it shouldn’t be affecting him this much!”

“Oh, Remus has always been like this with medication, I should’ve warned the nursing staff.”, he groaned, “But that doesn’t explain-”

“He must’ve pushed the blue button behind his bed,”, Logan sighed, already anticipating Roman’s question, “The medical staff likely assumed Remus was coding and thus went into action. That’s why they’re here right now.”

Roman’s expression confirmed that was indeed going to be his question. As Roman went to help the nurses tranquilise Remus’ wild flailing, and while his other two soulmates stood by to watch the chaos - in varying degrees of worry and strange admiration bordering on attraction for his disregard for social norms - Logan tried to come to terms with the facts.

He had three very different soulmates, and by the looks of it? He’d have to get used to frequent hospital stays….

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

This one’s probably on the weirder side, but uh, yeah, I hope it’s still a good read! [Also sorry these have been a little late lately TTvTT] @tsshipmonth2020 Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses

[british-bombs]

( TO BEAT THE DEVIL ) An introduction.

FORMAT: teleplay / novel

GENRE: horror, coming of age

LOGLINE: An interning demon drives a pair of twins cursed with obedience and honesty to kill their cult leader.

THEMES: Trauma, sexual abuse, domestic violence, victim blaming (particularly self blame), peer pressure, redemption, internalized homophobia, and religion.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Sexual abuse, violence, domestic and otherwise, manipulation, and death

EXTENDED SUMMARY, CHARACTERS, EXCERPT AND NOTES:

Carmine can taste it. They're hiding something. Humans have such a silly smell about them, turns an overwhelming shade of sweet when they've made a demonic deal. All four of these children have. He just can't figure out what, and more importantly: why.

It keeps him on the surface longer than he should be. Long enough that Lilith sees it fit to send him a fucking trainee? And if that wasn't insult enough, the trainees one of the eternal teenage know-it-alls.

He's already got four annoying toddlers to trail, and now there's one tugging his hand in the new generation's approach to soul-catching like Carmine isn't one of the best employees they've had since the turn of the century.

And somehow, to make it all worse, the trainee is good at it. And if Carmine wants to keep his spot at the top of the food chain, he's going to have to get the soul of that dumb bitch who's running the joint.

But, of course, the kid gets him murdered??? And then has the nerve to figure out how what those toddlers managed to stick their syrupy, grubby little hands in. What gives?

But two can play at that game. If he can't get the dead guy's, then he can have the next best thing.

Jesse has lived just under seventeen years, but he's ready to check out. Or he was. But of course, some selfish bastard had to come along and say you can't ever act on those thoughts again! Don't think like that!

And then the hole kept getting deeper.

Six feet deep, to be exact. He's got blood on his hands and no matter how fucking good it felt to cut off the air supply to the God who stole his innocence, it's probably not going to feel very good to watch his mom suffer through a highly publicized trial with headlines like CHILD MURDERS HIGH PROFILE BENEFACTOR!!!

Oh. Well. Billy did say if he really got in that deep, he could always strike up a deal. His soul, everything wrapped up in a nice little bow, sweet as Easter Sunday. But until then? Yeah, he's content to live in a stupid fucking Sherlock Holmes novel.

CHARACTERS:

JESSE NIX: A soon-to-be seventeen-year-old saddled with the curse of obedience. Unlike miss-lucky-Ella-Enchanted, he wasn't told to give away his mommy's locket. No-siree. He was told to give away his virginity. In his opinion, the only appropriate payback is a life. Maybe, one day, if he really snaps, he'll dig up Pastor Dallin's corpse and chop his dick off. Really stick it to the man. If he doesn't go to prison first, anyway. (spotify playlist)

NANCY NIX: Also a soon-to-be-seventeen-year-old, though saddled with the curse of honesty. It's really not so bad. That is, until she stumbles across the sight of her dearest little brother covered in blood for no reason he can push through his metal braces. She refuses to believe he did it on purpose. If only she could convince the cops without sounding like a nutjob. (spotify playlist)

BEVERLY PINES: A seventeen-year-old cursed to feel the pain of those around her. It makes for some fun family dinners with a sadistic mom and a missing dad. Distance nulls pain, but she can't ever seem to make it past state lines before her mom gets wise and breaks one of her ribs. Oh, well. She's got a bone to pick with psychos like her mom. Apparently, Pastor Dallin was one of them. She doesn't think she could stomach the pain of killing someone, so next best thing, right? (spotify playlist)

CLARICE ANDERMANN: Also a seventeen-year-old cursed to be constantly in motion. It's honestly not that bad. She's Yale bound! Perks of having endless energy for everything to cheerleading to debate contests, though she can't imagine her heart's going to keep up like this. It's already hanging on by a thread. That thread is named Beverly Pines and like hell she's letting it go to prison for nothing. (spotify playlist)

BILLY: An annoying fuck trapped in a seventeen-year-old's body. No curses. The opposite, in fact - blessed with a silver tongue and a keen sense of deduction. It takes him all of two hours to put together (almost) everything about Jesse Nix. He just didn't think he could push the repressed little fuck to murder that quick. (All the more power to him, though. Prison always makes people desperate and paranoid, AKA: an easy mark.) (spotify playlist)

MAVIS EVANGELISTA: Former housewife turned grieving widow turned revered prophet. If she got a little help from someone downstairs, then who's to know? They love her all the same. Now, she really, really wants to see how far she can push them all. (spotify playlist)

CARMINE: Just a helpful guy, passing through. Really doesn't need anything, just a little pledge, is all! And then? Then, you can have everything you want, fame, money, power, love. The sky is your limit. The water's fine! (Ignore the piranhas, they'll wait till you're dead to eat your face, just a little bit.) (spotify playlist)

NOTES:

- all of these characters have equal importance within the story.

- personal tag system for story stuff is '#tbtd' and character tags are just first name (ex: '#jesse')

- this is kind of really fucked up. the only reason i wrote it was cause i was thinking damn ella enchanted really is NOT fucked up enough. like i don't think the author of ella enchanted went dark enough. a locket? that's it? a bitch move. i'm taking it to straight murder and sexual abuse

- jesse transgender, no character straight except evil people

- i'm not entirely sure how tag lists work but i think i get the gist of them?? idk if you want rb or ask or something </3

EXCERPT:

There were moments, where she was reminded just how different this voice was, how violent.

She had found Lynette, making off with her makeup that she’d spent her own allowance on. Mavis doted on her and, from what she’d seen of other families, everyone else looked upon their little siblings with contempt, despising the burden they dragged along with their existence.

But Mavis adored Lyn. When she'd been born, her mother had come home with a tiny thing bundled in pink fleece. Mavis had taken to Lyn on sight, thinking Lynette’s headband adorned with a baby blue bow was the universe’s way of telling her happy birthday! as reparations for the ones her mother had missed while she was enduring her week long stay at the hospital.

But that mindset was a disease, one that had finally caught up with her. Had Lynette not become her burden? She was nineteen, busting her back day and night so Lynette wouldn’t have to, that she might avoid the life that Mavis had lived in those blissful six years where it was her and her alone.

Had her mother not tampered down her birthday celebrations since Lynette’s was so very close and they couldn’t afford double anyway? Had Lynette not deprived her of the teenage experiences she heard her classmates speak of, going out and tasting alcohol for the first time while Mavis followed a ten year old Lynette house to house so she could complain of a stomach ache after she’d devoured all the candy on the walk back home?

And now this! Stealing her few precious items, the few things she bothered to save up for, few things she bothered to keep hidden. For what? It wasn’t as though she was ever going to have the courage to ask a peer of her’s out. She was a thief.

One Mavis had made the mistake of taking care of. She should’ve embraced those stirrings of resentment, should’ve left Lynette to her own devices since Lynette didn’t appreciate anything, or even half of what Mavis afforded her. She should’ve left her out in the cold that Christmas. How could anyone have known? It wasn’t as though corpses could talk--

She had let Lyn take off with the whole case, as if to remind herself when she woke up the next morning what she had considered, how vile the thought was.

Lyn had never done anything unforgivable to Mavis. Mavis didn’t suppose she ever could. It was no fault of Lyn’s she didn’t understand what it was like to live with their father. How could she? It was a topic off limits to Lyn by both Mavis and their mother. After all, a child born blind doesn’t know until it’s pointed out to them.

And yet, she found guilt hard to summon. She did, but the speed at which it came, the strength, made her uneasy. What had happened to the girl she was? Lyn had been her world. What had changed?

Then, dully, that other voice, entirely of its own volition, said You did.

[musicprincess1990]

Sherlolly Tropes Duos I’d like to read something containing 24 (jealous Sherlock) and 39 (Reflex Affection) Nice game, I’m curious how it turns out! 😊

Taken from this prompt list.  Blimey, this was hard.  Not the jealous Sherlock part, that’s always easy (and so much fun!), but I couldn’t find a way to fit the reflex affection in until the very end.  Still, I’m pleased with the turnout.  Thanks for the prompt!

*

Molly tried to listen to the conversation, she really did, but her attention just kept creeping back to the scowling detective across the table from her.  She had stumbled upon Sherlock and John while looking for a place to have dinner with her cousin, Ivan, who was in town for the weekend.

They’d been close growing up, being close in age and neither of them having any siblings, and though he now lived in Scotland, he always made time for her, whether it was coming to London for a visit, or their weekly phone calls, or if she went to visit him in Edinburgh.  That became even more true when her father passed, leaving Ivan and his wife and children the only family she had left.

John, always friendly and polite, invited them to join him and Sherlock, who were just on their way to Angelo’s.  Sherlock was on a case, but John would be eating there, even if Sherlock did not.

Throughout the exchange, Sherlock remained silent, his eyes trained on Ivan, narrowed in scrutiny.  Molly cringed, hoping he would at least keep from blurting out any unpleasant deductions to Ivan’s face.

Now, here they sat, munching on bread and butter (except Sherlock), half the party oblivious to the other half’s unease.  John and Ivan quickly found common ground through medicine, as Ivan was also a doctor.  They were currently swapping stories of the strangest patients they’d encountered.  Molly listened and laughed along, at first, but as Sherlock continued to scowl, she couldn’t concentrate on anything but him.

Why on earth was he so upset?  And so quiet?  She couldn’t believe he hadn’t said so much as a word to Ivan, not even a passing deduction.  Normally, he would eagerly demonstrate his intelligence by rattling off details of where a person grew up, their family life, their drinking habits... but now? Nothing.

“Molly?”

She started, and by the way all eyes were on her, she guessed someone had just asked her a question.  “Oh, um... sorry, I didn’t hear...”

“That’s Molly for you,” Ivan teased with a grin.  “Always has her head in the clouds, this one!”

Molly opened her mouth to retort, having plenty of fodder to meet her cousin’s teasing and then up the ante.  But before she could say a word, Sherlock finally spoke, “Perhaps you don’t know Molly nearly as well as you think you do.”

What?

“What?” Ivan echoed her thoughts, laughing openly.

“Well, I’ve known Molly for nearly ten years, and have never once thought she ‘always has her head in the clouds.’  As a matter of fact, she is easily the most intelligent and competent pathologist at St. Bart’s, able to read minute details and extrapolate data with precision and efficiency.  She also has the cleanest Y-incision I have ever seen.  Would she be able to do all that with her head in the clouds?”

Now, all eyes were on Sherlock, stunned by this outburst.  Molly’s heart swelled at the remarkable praise he’d given her.  She’d rather expected him to agree with Ivan’s remark.  Heaven knows, she had a tendency to fantasize... especially about him.

“Well,” Ivan cleared his throat.  “I won’t worry about you making friends here anymore, Molly.  Clearly, you’ve made an impression.”

Sherlock frowned at this statement, but before he could say anything more, John cut him off.  “She certainly has.  You really are brilliant, Molly.  And I’m sure your cousin agrees,” he added, emphasizing the word with a pointed look at Sherlock.

His eyes widened, and he looked at John.  “Cousin?”

“Well, yeah, Ivan is Molly’s cousin,” he replied.

“How do you know that?”

“Because she told us, you ponce,” John rolled his eyes.  “I knew you weren’t bloody listening.”

Sherlock stared openly at Ivan, blinking a few times, and Molly almost laughed aloud.  Glancing at John, she saw him cover his mouth with his fist, eyes dancing with mirth.  “Ah,” Sherlock finally said, and she could have sworn his ears turned a bit pink.  “Right then.”

The chirp of a mobile interrupted the awkward silence, and Ivan glanced at his phone.  “Oh, that’s Emily, wants me to call her.  Excuse me for a moment.”  He stood and walked toward the door, dialing his wife’s number and pressing the phone to his ear.

“‘Spose now’s a good time to head to the loo,” John said, then pointed a finger at Sherlock like he was scolding a little boy.  “Don’t go swanning off without me this time, right?”

“I don’t go swanning off,” he grumbled, but otherwise offered no argument.

And then there were two, Molly thought.  Sherlock seemed intent on looking at anyone and anything but her.  “So,” he began, still averting his gaze.  “Cousin.”

She bit back another laugh.  “Yup,” she replied, popping the “P” as he often did.

Nodding his head, he absently replied, “Good, good...”

“Is it?” she asked playfully.

He gave a quick, one-shouldered shrug.  “I would assume so.  I can’t think of any cousins off-hand in my family, so I have no real frame of reference.”

“Well, Ivan and I are a bit closer than most cousins, so...” she trailed off, still smiling.

“Hm,” he nodded again.  “I suppose he would know you quite well then.”

“Yeah, he does.  But, thanks for saying all those lovely things,” she added.  “I had no idea you felt that way.”

Finally, his eyes met hers.  “I do,” he confirmed.  “Haven’t you wondered why I refuse to work with anyone else?”

“I figured it was because I’m the only one who doesn’t get in a tiff when you start spewing deductions,” she ribbed good-naturedly.

His lips curved up into a little smile that set loose a swarm of butterflies in her stomach.  “That too,” he allowed.

“Sorry about that,” Ivan said, announcing his return.  “Emily says hello, Molls,” he added as he took his seat.  “She’s miffed she didn’t get to come with me this time, but what can you do?  Bedrest means bedrest!”

“Too right,” Molly grinned.

A minute later, John came back as well, and it seemed the awkwardness had dissipated.  Sherlock, though visibly less tense than before, still did not join the conversation, opting to pull out his phone and scroll through his emails.  Molly almost scolded him, but decided against it.  At least he wasn’t scowling.

They were halfway into their entrees when Sherlock’s phone chimed. He jumped to his feet with a loud, “Yes!” that startled the entire restaurant into a hush.  “It’s Lestrade, the idiot’s running this way, just as I expected!  Come on, John!”

John dropped his fork and fished out a few bills to set on the table.  “Here, that should cover my portion, I’m sorry!” he said in a rush, then sprinted out the door after Sherlock.

Ivan stared at the bills for a moment, before turning wide-eyed to her.  “What the hell was that?”

*

Later that night, after explaining Sherlock’s work to Ivan and seeing him back to his hotel, Molly got a text from the detective asking him to meet her at Bart’s, “if convenient.”  Which, Molly knew, actually meant, “Immediately and without question.”  She knew better than to protest, and despite the exhaustion of the day, made her way dutifully to the hospital.

Sherlock was already in the lab when she arrived, at his favorite microscope, peering through the lens at whatever he was analyzing.  Molly sighed.  “I wish you’d stop picking the lock,” she said tiredly.

“Time is of the essence, and a woman’s alibi depends on this analysis.”

“Took me all of ten minutes to get here.”

“And that’s ten minutes less that she’ll have to wait.”

Molly rolled her eyes, but dropped the argument.  “Right, then.  What do you need?”

He stilled for a moment, so brief she thought she might have imagined it, before changing the slide and peering at the new one.  “John’s with Mary.”

“How dare he choose to be with his wife?” she deadpanned.

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Molly.”

“Avoiding the question doesn’t become you, Sherlock.”

He finally looked at her.  “I didn’t avoid the question.  I answered it. John’s with Mary, and was unwilling to come.”

“So?”

“So,” he huffed, “I work better with an assistant.”

Another person might have been annoyed at his use of the term assistant. That person may also have been angry about being practically dragged from their home back to work, which they’d only left a few hours ago, simply to babysit a grown man.  But that person wasn’t Molly.  Molly saw the hidden meaning of his words, and she couldn’t help smiling at the ridiculous man.

“You could just say you don’t want to be alone,” she told him.

He blinked in surprise, then frowned, turning back to his microscope.  “Rubbish,” he muttered, and for the second time that night, his ears turned pink.

Satisfied at having guessed correctly, Molly said nothing more, and went about doing some of her own work.  If he needed something from her, he would ask, but until he did, she might as well get ahead on her paperwork.

They worked in silence for close to an hour, before Molly started yawning.  She checked her watch, and groaned at the small hand pointing to the number eleven.   “How much longer have you got, Sherlock?”

“Not long,” he said.  “Just waiting for that last dirt sample—” a loud beeping from the analyzer cut him off, and he darted his gaze to the computer screen.  A wide smile broke out across his face.  “Oh, yes!”  He shot up from his stool and grabbed his coat.  “I knew it was the sister-in-law!  If you wouldn’t mind emailing me those results, Molly, I’ll need to phone Lestrade right away.”

Molly was used to this, Sherlock firing off instructions and leaving in a whirlwind.  Truth be told, it was a bit of a rush for her, as well.  However.. this time, he did something very unexpected and out of character.  As he swung his coat around and pushed his arms through the sleeves, he crossed over to her, standing only inches away.  Then, quick as lightning, his hands cupped her face, and he pressed a firm, searing kiss to her lips.

When he pulled back with a loud smack, Molly stood frozen, eyes shut, listening as he swept from the room.  Eventually, her eyes opened, staring dumbly at the spot he’d just vacated.  She lifted a trembling hand to her lips, which had been claimed by his only moments ago.

“What... the hell...?”

[khoicesbyk]

Beloved.

A/N: I'm officially obsessed with Wolf Bride and what does one do when she's obsessed with a certain book? She writes an AU about it! 😁 So, Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Rated: Mature. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: Roman (LI) and Naia Evans (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and original characters created by me) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 2,007 words. (more or less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

Tag List: @shewillreadyou @rideordiechronicles @bebepac @queenjilian @pixie88 @imturaxamara @lucy-268 @shannonsaid @shannonwrote @txemrn @aussieez @secretaryunpaid @texaskitten30 @blackkingliamstan

This series is rated Mature. It is NOT reading material that is safe for those under 18. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!

This series may contain spoilers. If you wish not to see spoilers, please do not read any further.

(Also this series is a slight deviation of the original story. In the original story, the werewolf hunter is a woman. But in this series the hunter is a man.)

Missing a chapter or want to read a chapter again? I got you covered! Click ——> Here!

If you’d like to be added to my tag list. Just reblog or dm me and I will gladly add you! 😁😘

Chapter 21.) Fractured.

Naia was rushed to the ER by Roman after being accidentally shot with a tranquilizer by Trent. But as Roman brought her to the ER something was wrong. She was exhibiting signs of a severe allergic reaction. But Roman didn't know what was causing it. He was thankful that Layla’s mother Joanna worked at the hospital. She would tell him what was wrong with Naia. But first, he had to deal with Trent and his crew being there.

It took all of the hospital security team and sheriff's department to separate Roman and the werewolves from Trent and his team. And that was before her parents showed up at the hospital and her mother raised hell with the staff about not wanting either of them there. As everyone waited in separate waiting areas, the tension and the air was thick. Rage, pain, shock, fear, and anxiety all mingled as each waited for news.

Roman and Trent kept their eyes on the hall. While Naia’s father had his eyes trained on the nurse's station. Laurie had her head resting on her husband’s shoulder with her eyes closed while holding on to her husband's hand. She was furious but more so she was terrified. Her daughter was in trouble and she didn't know how to help her.

The minutes felt like hours as they all waited for news of Naia’s condition. Laurie couldn't feel her daughter, no matter how hard she tried to tap into the bond they share. Finally, a doctor came down the hall with a chart in their hands. When Laurie looked up she and the doctor both recognized each other.

“You have got to be kidding me!”

“Well hello to you too Joey.”

“What are you doing at home after all these years?”

“A.) this isn't home. And B.) apparently my daughter was brought in by The Alpha.”

Joey shook her head.

“Well, this explains why I thought she looked familiar.”

“Whatever! Just tell me that you have news.”

“Well it’s good to see that you haven't changed one bit after all this time.”

“Joey…”

“It's Dr. Simpson, thank you.”

Laurie exhaled slowly.

“I do have news. But you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

“What is it?”

Dr. Simpson glanced over to where Roman and Trent were sitting. Shane rolled his eyes.

“Forget him! Tell me what is wrong with her.”

“It's best if we talk over here.”

She led Laurie and Shane to a corner of the waiting room out of earshot of everyone else.

“Her test results came back positive for a high-powered tranquilizer and…” she trailed off. It started to scare Laurie.

“What Joey? What else?”

The doctor sighed heavily.

“Wolfbane.”

Laurie and her husband both went pale.

“What did you just say?”

“You two heard me. When The Alpha brought her in, the Wolfbane had already begun to take effect.”

Laurie shook her head in disbelief. Shane stood there wide-eyed with his hand over his mouth.

“Because of the Wolfbane in her blood, your daughter went into anaphylactic shock.”

“Oh my God! Please don't tell me that my daughter is…”

“She’s alive. We had to put her under to save her life.”

“No. It can't be.”

“I am so sorry Laurie. But it is. And as you well know there is no cure for Wolfbane.”

“Not again…this can’t be happening.”

Laurie started shaking.

“I know more that this isn’t the news you wanted to hear. But the blood work isn’t lying.”

Shane steadied his wife before he spoke.

“Can we see her?”

“Yes. She’s just down the hall to the right. Room D17.”

Laurie ran past Trent and Roman with Shane not too far behind. When she got to the window outside of Naia’s room Laurie felt like she couldn't breathe. She felt like she was looking into a mirror at herself. Every painful memory of Hunt’s Peak that she ever had come flooding back. When they took just a few steps into Naia’s room, Laurie’s knees gave out on her, causing her to fall at the foot of the bed. Seeing her daughter like this made her inconsolably hysterical. And all her husband could do was try to help her up.

Shane was able to get her to the chair next to the bed. When she looked at Naia all she saw was herself those many years ago.

“This wasn't supposed to happen! Not to her!” she said as she cried.

“I know, baby.”

“My baby…my poor baby. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!”

“Laurie, please! It's not your fault.”

She heard him but she didn't care.

“You don't understand! This is my fault! I didn't protect her! I-I-I-I failed her…”

“Baby…”

“Naia please…wake up! You have to wake up!”

Shane knew she didn't mean it but she couldn't help but blame herself.

Meanwhile, Zane had shown up at the hospital. When he got to the front desk he ran into Dr. Simpson.

“Joey I got your call. What is it?”

She glared at him.

“Don’t you Joey me!”

“What? What did I do?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that your sister was home?!”

“Because it’s a small town and you two were bound to run into each other at some point?”

That’s when she punched him in the arm.

“OW! Geez! What was that for?”

“Zane!” she warned him.

“Look I’m sorry! She and her husband showed up a few weeks ago looking for my niece.”

“That’s another thing you failed to tell me about!”

“Now what?!”

“You didn’t tell me she had a daughter either!”

“Yeah well, you’ve been busy! And so have I!”

Joey rolled her eyes at him.

“Where is Laurie? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. Physically anyway. It’s your niece you need to be concerned about.”

Zane gave her a look that was half concerned and half confused.

“What do you mean?”

Joey took a deep breath before leading him out of earshot of everyone in the waiting areas.

“Your niece is suffering from Wolfbane poisoning. And it’s just as bad if worse than Laurie’s all those years ago.”

“That’s impossible Joey. Wolfbane was banned before Xander died.”

“You know that. I know that. And yet…”

Zane glanced over to where Roman and Trent were sitting.

“Well, that explains why they’re here.”

“Yes. The Alpha brought her in. And the Hunter…he’s the one who shot her.”

“He shot her?!”

“It was by accident. He was aiming for the Alpha when she stepped in and took the tranquilizer dart instead.”

Zane exhaled slowly.

“Does my sister know?”

“Not yet. She knows that your niece has been infected but she doesn’t know how she was infected. She and her husband are in there with your niece now.”

“It won’t take her long to figure it out. There’s only one way to be infected by Wolfbane.”

“Yes. I’m well aware. I just can’t believe this happened twice. No one here at the labs would do this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I run the ER. I know for a fact that the higher-ups are terrified of The Alpha. They think he’s just like Xander.”

Zane looked at Joanna and coughed awkwardly into his hand.

“Just so you know I haven't told her anything.”

“So you didn't tell her you’re gonna be a grandfather?”

“No, I didn't tell her. Squirt would lose her shit if she found out you and I had a kid together. So we're gonna keep it that way. And if she asks you…Peabody is Layla’s father.”

“Fine. Now go check on them. They need you.”

Zane shook his head sadly.

“You wanna tell her that?”

“What do you mean?”

“She's selling the house.”

“What?!”

“I've been staying at Toby’s for the last few weeks.”

“Why didn't you say something?”

“Because you would've asked a million and one questions that I didn't have answers to.”

Joey sighed.

“Still you could've said something to me!”

“Look, Naia called and said she was coming to town and didn't want her mother to know. And I knew if I told you…there was a slight possibility that you would've told Laurie.”

“And yet here we are.”

“Yup. Laurie showed up and all hell nearly broke loose.”

“What do you mean?”

“Squirt went toe to toe with The Alpha.”

Joey’s eyes went wide.

“Just like she did with his father.”

“She's gonna get herself killed one day.”

“I know.”

Zane looked over at Roman.

“Does he know about Naia?”

“No. Not yet. I’ll tell him. ”

“Okay. I'm gonna go check on them.”

“Good. They're down the hall to the right. Room D17.”

“Thank you Joey.”

As Zane went to walk past the waiting area, Roman caught his wrist. Zane swallowed hard before turning to face Roman.

“Do you know what's wrong?”

Before Zane could answer, Dr. Simpson spoke up.

“Come with me Alpha.”

Roman cocked an eyebrow at Zane before quietly following the doctor away from him.

When Zane got to the room Naia was in he stopped outside the door. He looked through the window and saw his sister huddled over Naia. It broke his heart to see her so distraught. It reminded him of the night she was here years ago. And that he didn't listen to her, that he didn't believe her then. He quietly opened the door and stepped inside. When he walked in, Laurie looked up at him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Joey called. She said you were here and I thought—”

He trailed off when he looked at Naia.

“You thought what? That I was here in a bed again just like I was all those years ago?”

“I—”

That's when Shane cut him off.

“Well, you’re here. Are you happy?”

“I didn't know Naia was here until I got here and got punched in the arm.”

“Sounds like Joey.”

“She told me that—”

“It was Wolfbane poisoning?”

“Yes. I just can't believe that it happened again.”

Laurie scoffed and Zane looked down at the floor.

“The Alpha is out in the waiting area. So is Trent. I don't think they know.”

“They were here when we got here.”

That's when they heard shouting between both sides coming from up the hall. And Laurie had heard enough.

Something inside her snapped.

It felt like a dam had broken within her when she stood up.

“You two stay here.”

“Where are you going?”

“There's something that I have to take care of.”

Zane and Shane shared a worried look as Laurie stormed out of the room. When she got towards the end of the hall, the shouting and accusations between Trent and Roman grew louder.

“This is your fault!”

“Don't blame me!”

“Fine! How about I rip your head off? Would you like that?”

Trent scoffed.

“I’d love to see you try Balto.”

They stopped arguing when Laurie turned the corner.

“Oh please don’t stop bickering on my account.”

The look on her face was a mix of rage and pain. She glared at them both with her arms crossed.

“It shouldn’t surprise me that you two are at each other’s throats. Because in all honesty you idiots are the reason why my daughter is currently fighting for her life!”

“What?!”

“Let me summarize: Naia is in a coma, because of Wolfbane.”

Roman and Trent looked at each other then looked at her.

“What is that?”

“I’m glad you asked Alpha. If you must know, Wolfbane is a poison that your father had created.”

Roman looked at her incredulously.

“Did I mention that he created it with Bernard Sayre?”

Both men were stunned.

“Judging by the looks that you both have, I assume that neither of you know what I’m talking about. So here’s a little project for you: why would Xander and Bernard Sayre work together on anything?”

“Impossible!”

“Far be it from me to agree with the mutt but he’s right.”

Laurie issued one last declaration to them.

“One more thing, as of right now both of you will NOT step foot into this hospital!”

She then turned on her heel walking down the hall. Leaving them in shock.

[silentauroriamthereal]

Author interview tag

I was tagged by @therealsaintscully! Thanks, you! :)

Name: SilentAuror

Fandoms: Just Sherlock, though I also follow some Old Guard blogs. :)

Where you post: AO3. Though I was almost knocked over the other day when I got a comment on an old HP fic over on skyehawke.com! It’s been literal YEARS since I got a review on anything over there! :P 

Most popular multi-chapter fic: Against the Rest of the World for sure. :)

Favourite story you’ve written so far: With 87 posted fics and 2 more currently on the go, I can’t possibly answer that. That’s cruel. Lol. 

Fic you were nervous to post: This, on the other hand, is easy, haha! Three stories, all for very different reasons: 

1. The A.G.R.A Complex. This was my first Freebatch fic and I thought I might well be burnt at the stake for even writing any RPF. The notion for this story caught my muses’ attention, though, and they eventually forced me to write it against my will. I can’t be held responsible. Lol. It still amazes me that people continue to read it to this day. The notion: Martin and Benedict are friends. There’s a car accident and Martin suffers a fairly mild brain injury. While in his coma, dreams the entire first three seasons of Sherlock, which in this universe, haven’t happened. The nature of the brain injury is such that he keeps shifting mentally between the reality of who he and Benedict (and Amanda) are, and seeing himself and everyone else as their characters in the Sherlock universe. When I posted it, I intended it to be left up to the reader whether to see it as kind of an AU to actual reality, or else a prequel to the filming of Sherlock. When I finally decided to write a sequel, it meant that I had to be the one to make that clear, which made it a prequel. It became a three-part series, with the second part set during and just after the filming of series 3 (the dodgiest in the moral sense, since it dances around and into real life events), and then the third story takes place ten years later. 

2. The Final Proof. Why? Easy. Major character death, and it’s Sherlock. That’s clear from about the first sentence, I think. I had written At the Heart of it All, which features Sherlock running an experiment using the hearts of people who lived lives where they had loved and been loved, and people who hadn’t in an effort to prove his own ability to love to John. He says something at the end of that story about wishing he could see his own heart at the end of their life to see which of the hearts his own resembled by then. And then my muses, my terrible, terrible muses said, “hey... you could write that: you know: Sherlock at the very end of his life, making John promise to look at his heart after he’s died, and complete his experiment.” I, like, teared up just at the thought, and honestly, I cried for most of the writing of that story. I’m assured that about 99% of the people who have read it have also cried throughout, so... sorry. Yeah. 

3. Scars. Why? Easy, again: the entire story is riddled with gaslighting and other types of emotional abuse and mind-fuckery, and an actual rape scene. It was painful to the point of being interally corrosive to write, but I still felt it was a story I needed to tell. I did my homework on this one, consulted multiple therapists who work specifically in the field of men who have been absued (emotionally, physically, sexually) by female partners. I thought no one would read it. I thought I might lose half my followers on tumblr. But I still wrote it. It still amazes me that people read it, even more when they actually like it, and still like me after. Lol. 

How you choose your titles: Hmm... each title genesis is different, I would say! Sometimes it’s a general theme of the story, sometimes it’s a specific concept or single word, occasionally (but not often) it’s a song title. Sometimes it’s another language, particularly Latin. In The A.G.R.A Complex, the title of the story is also the name that the neurologists given to the brain injury Martin experiences. Vena Cava is titled for the name of the vein that Mary’s bullet punctured in Sherlock’s heart, based on a medical analysis I had read. Scars takes its theme from both Sherlock’s external scars from what he went through during his time away, and John’s internal scars from Mary’s emotional abuse. I also have a whole series of (unrelated) flower-themed stories: The Green Carnations comes from ACD era coding for homosexuality. The Yellow Poppies is the story I wrote after the deleted scene about Magnussen’s hospital visit came out, which features both he and Mary as dual villains, and yellow poppies placed in Sherlock’s room as a threat from one or the other of them. The White Lotuses has a leitmotif of Hinduism and slow-blooming self-awareness and romance. The Red Roses is a Molly POV where she helps Sherlock and John get together in spite of her own feelings, and The Wisteria Tree is an amnesia story that has Sherlock forget the past six years of his life, including the five years that he’s been married to John, and how they find their way back together in spite of that. Rosa Felicia - bonus, both a flower name AND Latin, lol! - is a coming-of-age story about Rosie at the age of 19. Where My Demons Hide is a mid-series 4 story that I wrote after The Lying Detective aired, but before The Final Problem did, and is the title of an Imagine Dragons song. Pater Noster is Latin for the title of the Lord’s Prayer in Latin, but also quite literally just means “our father”, and is a story that centres around the events surrounding the death (murder) of John and Harry’s father. You get the gist. 

Do you outline: I always say that one should know how a story begins, how it ends, and at least a few of the major points between those two events. So yes, but loosely. I think that over-plotting kills creativity. It’s not an essay. But even essays need space to grow. 

Complete: 105 stories back in my skyehawke days, the vast majority of which are HP, totalling in about 1.5 million words. 87 stories in the Sherlock fandom (though those include my 4 Freebatch fics), totalling in over 2.3 million words now. 

In progress: I have two stories currently pending: a Christmas story called The Secret of Hazel Grange, and a trauma-based, co-sleeping fic called Nocturne.

Coming soon/not yet started: I never comment about fics I haven’t yet started. Might curse the entire process, lol. 

Do you accept prompts: No, alas. Neither prompts nor commissions. While I’m constantly desperately poor, it takes something out of the writing process for me once it becomes a job. I just feel like that’s not what fanfic is about for me. No judgement to anyone else who does write for commissions, whatsoever - we all have our own process! For me, I’m happy (make that incredibly grateful!) to have donations or supporters through my Patreon (eep: x), but writing to order just doesn’t quite jive for me. I also don’t take prompts, not because I don’t want them, but because I have such a huge backlog of my own ideas that I’ll never get to as it is. There will never be enough time to write all the fics I want to write! That said, don’t think that you can’t still suggest your ideas. My “official policy” (lol) is that I don’t take prompts (for the aforementioned backlog reason), but that doesn’t mean that if you do send me one, my muses won’t seize upon it and force me to write it. You never know. I certainly don’t, at least. :P 

Upcoming story you are most excited to write: I’m super excited by the notion of actually getting my Christmas fic finished by Christmas. Lol. Here’s hoping!! 

Tagging: Anyone who reads this and is a writer, or thinking about becoming one. You’ve been tagged! 

[duhragonball]

‘21

Amidst all the popular hype for seeing the end of 2020, it didn’t hit me until about lunchtime what the real highlight is that I’ve been waiting for: For the first time since 1999, the year finally ends in “numberty-number” again.    It low-key irritated me that we had to call it “two thousand three” and I was relieved when “twenty-thirteen” caught on, but it still wasn’t right because it was too short, and now we’re back in the sweet spot, and I should be safely dead by 2100, so that’s one less thing I gotta deal with.

Really, even “numberty hundred” rings true to me.    “Nineteen hundred” sounds like a year.    “Twenty-one-oh-six” sounds like a futur-y year, which is even cooler.   So did “Two thousand five”, until I was actually living in it, and it sounds even worse now that it was a long time ago and adults will talk about their childhood happening in that year.    Daniel Witwicky would be old enough to get married and grow a fancier beard than me.    That’s nuts.    My point is that, honestly, it’s the year 3000-3019 that I have to worry about, so if I ever decide to go vampire, those will be the years I hide in the ocean or force society to reset the calendar, whichever’s easier.  

I spent New Year’s Eve finishing Superliminal, which I bought on Steam after I watched Vegeta play it on YouTube.  It has a similar look and feel to the Stanley Parable, so if you liked one you’d probably enjoy the other, although Superliminal has a different theme.  I kept hoping I’d find some secret passage that I wasn’t supposed to take, and a narrator would scold me for finding the “Chickenbutt Ending”, but it doesn’t work that way.    Superliminal’s all about puzzles and awesome visuals, but it does have the same soothing design aesthetics as TSP.   Honestly, I enjoyed just wandering around in Stanley’s office, and Superliminal does the same thing with a hotel and several other settings.   It’s nice.

This got me thinking about how I kind of did everything there was to do in The Stanley Parable, and I sort of wished they would add new stuff to the game, but I’m not sure there would be much point to that.    I could play the older version, but it presents the same message, just with different assets.   The Boss’s Office would look different, but it’d be the same game.   And this got me thinking about various “secret chapters” in pop culture.  Secrets behind the cut.

I first heard about this idea in the 2000′s, when fans invented this notion that there was a secret chapter of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.    I read a website that tried to explain the concept, and of course it lauded J.K. Rowling with all this gushing praise for working an Easter egg into the book, a literary work of “well, magic.”  

That pretty well sums up my distaste for Harry Potter, by the way.    These days, JKR has thoroughly crapped all over her reputation and legacy, but in the 2000′s it felt like half the planet was in a mad rush to canonize her as a writing goddess, to the point where fans were congratulating her for writing secret chapters that didn’t actually exist.   The idea was based on lore from the books about Neville Longbottom’s parents.    They were patients in a mental hospital, and he’d go to visit them, and they would give him bubble gum wrappers, intended to demonstrate how far remove they’ve become from reality.   The secret chapter lies in those wrappers, which all read “Droobles Best Blowing Gum” or some such.    What if Neville’s parents were only pretending to be mentally ill, so as to throw off their enemies?   Naturally, they would want to stay in contact with their son, so the bubble gum wrappers would have to contain coded messages.    Said code involves unscrambling the letters on the wrappers to make new words, like “goblin” or “sword” or “Muggle” or “Dumbledore”.    The problem is that you can also use it to make other words like “booger” or “drool” or “booobbiess.”   Play with it enough, and you can make the code say anything you want it to say, which means it’s no code at all.   

But the idea was that the not-yet-published sixth HP book would reveal all of this gum wrapper nonsense, and Neville would decode the messages and discover all of his parents’ super-cool adventures.   I’m not sure why we needed a secret chapter if Book 6 was going to explain all of this anyway in several not-secret chapters, but that was the whole point.   Fans didn’t have Book 6 yet, and they were so desperate to read it that they started trying to extrapolate what would happen next based on “clues” from the previous five.    That’s like trying to figure out what Majin Buu looks like by watching the Androids Saga.   I guess some wiseguy would have guessed that he’d resemble #19, but that’d just be blind luck.  

And when you get down to it, this whole secret chapter business is really just a conspiracy.   This is literally how Qanon works.   Some anonymous jackass posted vague “hints” on an imageboard, and people went goofy trying to interpret them and figure out what would happen in the future.   They call it “research” because they spend a ton of time on this, but there’s no basis to any of it.    It took me a few minutes to figure out that you can spell “Muggle” with the words in “Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum”, but that’s not research and it doesn’t prove anything.   But all these guys keep looking for “Hilary Clinton goes to jail next week” and lo and behold that’s all they ever find.   

In the same vein, the gum wrapper thing was really a complaint disguised as a conspiracy, disguised as a “magical secret chapter”.   At least a few fans wanted to see more Neville in their Harry Potter books, they wanted Neville’s parents, or someone like them, to have cool spy adventures or whatever else.   The point is, they clearly weren’t getting what they wanted out of the printed works, but they didn’t want to turn against their Dear Beloved Author, so they started casting about for an alternative reality, one where J.K. Rowling wrote a cooler story and hid it in the pages of the one that actually went to press.    So instead of just saying “Hey, Order of the Phoenix was kind of a letdown, I hope there’s more ninjas in the next book,” they said “Rowling is a genius because I wanted ninjas and she’s definitely going to give them to me, I have the gum wrappers to prove it.”

The same thing happened all over again when the BBC Sherlock show took a turn for the nonsensical.    I don’t know from BBC Sherlock, but I watched the fascinating video critique by Hbomberguy, and it sounds like the show did tons of plot twists until it stopped making sense altogether in the fourth season.    If you skip to 1:09:00 in the video, you’ll hear about fan theories that suggested that season four was supposed to be crappy, as part of a secret meta-narrative plan that would be paid off in a secret, unannounced episode that would not only explain everything, but retroactively justify the crappy episodes that came before.    But it’s been a few years and it never came to pass, so I think we can call this myth busted. 

Most recently, I think we’ve all seen a lot of talk about the final season of Supernatural, where I guess Destiel sort of became canon but only one guy does the love confession and the other doesn’t respond.   But I guess he does say “I love you too”  in the Spanish dub, which means the English language version was edited for whatever reason.    It’s not exactly a secret episode, but the implication is that there’s more to this than what made it to the screen.    So the questions turn to what the screenplay said, what the writers and actors wanted to do, etc. etc.    My general impression is that SPN fans are a bit more used to crushing disappointment, so they’re not quite as delusional about this show being unquestionable genius, like Sherlock and Harry Potter.     Maybe this is an Anglophile thing?   Like, if you suck at something with a British accent, people will accept it more unconditionally?   

I had seen something on Twitter about how there should have been a secret Seinfeld episode in the 90′s.    Someone suggested it at the time, they tape a whole episode, then wait until 2020 to air it, because by then it would be worth a fortune.    But they didn’t do it, because it costs a lot of money to make a TV episode, and if you don’t air the show right away, you aren’t making that money back any time soon.    Yeah, you might recoup a fortune someday, but Seinfeld was making a ton of money then.    It exposes the fannish nature of the idea.    A fan would love to discover a cool secret chapter, but a content creator isn’t necessarily keen on making a cool thing and then hiding it where few people would find it.  

I thought about doing this myself recently.   Maybe Supernatural gave me the bug, but I thought “I’m writing this big-ass story, so what if I wrote me a secret chapter for it?   Wouldn’t that be cool?”     But no, it wouldn’t be cool, because it’d be the same work as writing a regular chapter, and the same stress I feel when I hold off on publishing it.    Except I’d just never publish it, I’d put it in some secret hole on the internet and hope that some superfan who might not even exist can decode whatever clues I leave.  

I mean, it’d be awesome if it got discovered and everyone loved it.    “Hey, I found this hidden chapter!   Mike’s done it again!”   And I could bask in the glory.   But what if no one finds it?  Then I just wasted my time, right?   I want people to read my work.   My monkey brain needs the sweet, sweet validation of those kudos and comments, folks.   Once I realized that, I understood why no one else would want to do a secret chapter either.    Easter eggs are one thing, but the bigger bonus features they put on DVDs were pretty easy to find, and with good reason.

I think that’s what made the Stanley Parable so appealing to play, because it teases you with the idea that you can “break” the game and find some extra content that you weren’t supposed to see, but as you go exploring all those hidden areas, it gradually becomes clear that this is just part of the game; you were meant to find all these things, and that’s why they were put here.      It’s hidden, but he secret aspect of it is just pretend.   

I suppose that what I like about games like TSP and Superliminal is the illusion of secrets more than the secrets themselves.    I like roaming through the hallways, having no idea what I might find ahead.    I kind of wish I could open all the doors, and not just the ones the game designers put stuff behind, but the reality is that there’s nothing on the other side.    I used a cheat code once  to explore the unused doors in TSP and it’s just a bright white field on the other side.   Interesting to look at, but not much of a reveal.   Honestly, the doors themselves are more appealing than anything that could lay behind them.  

And that’s probably what makes secrets so fun.   They could be almost anything, but once you open the present, the number of possibilities drops to one.   If they had ever made that Secret BBC Sherlock Episode, I doubt it would have lived up to expectations, but fans could amuse themselves by imagining what could have been in it.    In the end, though, things usually don’t justify the hype.  For every Undertaker debut at Survivor Series 1990, there’s a Gobbledygooker debut at Survivor Series 1990.   It’s impossible to manufacture a secret with a guaranteed payoff.   

[crystalwillow]

Pitter Patter, Part One

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Georgia Valentine (F!MC)

Collab With: @brycelahelalover

Word Count: 4.5K

We loved our last collab we done last time that @brycelahelalover and I decided to do another one. In this one Bryce and F!MC are having a baby and learning to become the best parents they can be, so their child doesn’t have to experience what they did as children. I am adding some personal feelings and thoughts to my part of this collab. So it is a little but about me and what type of person I was going through school and my thought process and how that has developed over the years up until now, when I’m 22. I hope you enjoy this one! Remember to keep an eye out for part 2 which will be posted by Chahnaz, as well as a little side story she wants to write too.

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

She had always had a hard time trusting people, but in particular, she’d had a hard time trusting men all her life. She was the shy kid in school who had a small group of people she would hang out with and if they weren’t at school she would always find a quiet spot to sit by herself and pass the time by sitting studying for a subject as she ate her lunch. She never caught anyone’s eye, meaning she never had a relationship. Though that was much to her relief as she already had enough to deal with, and there was no way she could handle a relationship. So when she started her time at Edenbrook hospital after graduating med school, she had no idea that she would be where she is now at 31.

--- 8 Years Earlier ---

“You seriously don’t see children in your future?! Like at all?”

Georgia shook her head as she swallowed her bite of pasta salad at the question asked by one of her friends, Angelica.

“Nope. Not at all.”

“Why?”

Georgia shrugged. “I just... don’t feel like that’s in the cards for me so why bother thinking about it?”

Angelica smiled sadly and gently rubbed Georgia’s wrist before saying goodbye and heading back behind the counter of the coffee shop to continue with her work, leaving her friend to study for an exam.

--- Present Day ---

Bryce sat up in bed with a loud yawn as he stretched out, the person beside him groaning in tired annoyance. “Shut up.” they mumbled, rolling over and stuffing the pillow over their head. Bryce grinned lazily before laying over them and resting his head on the pillow. “Ahhh yes. Much comfier... I should have ordered the Georgia style mattress when I brought the frame instead.” he teased. “Get off of me you fat oaf.” Georgia protested, her voice muffled beneath the pillow.

“It even talks.. cool. Creepy.. but still cool. Tell me, do you love me?”

“Yes. You know I do.”

“mhm. Are you in love with me.”

“Bryce...” she sighed.

“Tell me.”

“I can’t breathe. I’ll tell you that for free. Anything else and you’re gonna have to pay.”

Bryce Chuckled rolling off of her and back onto his half of the bed, Georgia throwing the pillow off of her head.

“Wow. You are RED.”

“And you’re clearly in the wrong profession, Sherlock Holmes.” She retorted smugly.

Bryce looked at his girlfriend with his trademark smirk and eyes sparkling with mischief before launching himself at her and smothering her with affectionate kisses and a massive hug, resting his head in the crook of her neck as she hugged him back.

“We need to get up Bryce.”

“I don’t want to.”

“We have to. I have work and you have shopping to do.”

Bryce groaned into Georgia’s neck and she laughed at him. “Come on.”

“Nope.”

“Bryce.”

“Ugh, finee. But you owe me later.”

“I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

“You had better.”

--- 4 Hours Later ---

Georgia was walking through a hall on her way to the cafeteria to get some coffee, when a blur of colour zoomed past knocking her into the wall. “Oof.” she said aloud as someone came back around the corner, when she met the persons eyes she took in a sharp breath. Bryce looked at her apologetically.

“Sorry babe.”

“No, it’s okay. What are you doing here anyway? I thought it was your day off?”

“It was supposed to be, but I’ve been called in to assist on an emergency surgery. We’ll have to finish the shopping together later.”

“Oh. Okay, well... good luck.” She smiled and went up on tiptoe to give him a quick kiss before he rushed off again. As she trudged onward, Georgia ran into Zaid who waved her over.

“What’s up?” she asked as she stopped beside him

“Baz told me that you’re needed upstairs.”

“Oh. Okay, thank you.” She smiled as Zaid nodded curtly and left, leaving Georgia to go up to the diagnostics office.

When she got there the team was already half way through a differential, she took a seat and done her best to catch up despite the fiery death glares her boss was giving her. They were strong enough that she could have sworn her skin was burning.

“That would be everything for now. And Valentine.”

“Y-yes, Dr. Ramsey?”

“I won’t accept tardiness on my team. If it happens again you can kiss your spot goodbye. Understood?”

“Yes, Dr. Ramsey, Sir.”

She bowed and backed out of the room as if he was royalty before turning around and heading off to her patients again. Later in the day she met up with Bryce and they went to finish the grocery shopping together. Though the car ride there seemed quiet and tense as Georgia looked out of the window with a distant look in her eyes.

“Are you okay sweetheart?” Bryce asked, concern on his face as he darted glances to the seat beside him. But he got no answer. “Geor-”

“I’m fine.” She snapped out of seemingly nowhere forcing Bryce into a silence making the atmosphere in the car very awkward. When they reached the parking lot of the store and Bryce killed the engine after parking the car she spoke up again. “You stay here. I’ll get everything we need.”

She still had that tone in her voice and Bryce could tell she was doing it again. Trying to put distance between them, and it was then he registered what the look in her eyes truly was. A mix of fear and uncertainty. Sighing, he locked them in the car and took her hand in his tentatively and stroked the back with his other spare one. “Babe. It’s okay.” He whispered looking at her even though she refused to look back at him. “I understand that you get scared. And that’s okay, Just please... don’t push me away. I’m here for you Georgia. Through whatever life will throw at you. I’m in your corner.” He watched for a reaction from her, but she just shook her head as she blinked back tears. “Oh sugarplum.” He sighed, unbuckling her seatbelt and pulling her into his lap. She silently snuggled closer into him as he rubbed soothing circles onto her back and kissed the top of her head delicately as if she was an expensive piece of antique china porcelain he couldn’t afford to break. Georgia cried quietly into his chest until she fell asleep, Bryce laying her in the back of the car and covering her with a blanket before locking the car and heading inside to do the shopping himself. By the time she woke up, they were back at Bryce’s apartment and her head was in Bryce’s lap as he watched a show on TV whilst absentmindedly playing with her hair. Her slight movement and yawn alerted him to the fact she was awake now. He glanced down to find her glistening green eyes looking up at him, they were still tired and had a mix of emotions flowing through them.

“Hey.” He said with a soft smile at her, which she returned.

“Hey.” She whispered back, sitting up to stretch some more before laying back in Bryce’s lap, his hand going back to playing with her hair. “I’m sorry for earlier.” She mumbled, staring at the screen as if it was a window.

Bryce sighed. “It’s alright. You’ve explained everything to me before. I’m not mad. You’re perception of men hasn’t exactly been the greatest growing up. Your dad wasn’t the best, your mom only ever dated men who would break her heart and was too stubborn to end things because she didn’t want to give the man the satisfaction of her doing so. And I’m your first ever love. Navigating a relationship when you haven’t had the best examples is hard, I get that. I mean, look at my parents. I’m blessed because they stayed together, but... they weren’t the best example of what love should be. When I say I’m in your corner, I mean it. We’re in this whole adventure together. It’s new and scary for both of us, but don’t let the feeling of fear rule your thoughts. I’m not leaving you, I love you too much. I’d be insane to leave such a beautiful woman. There’s nobody like you. You’re smart, funny, caring. You may not see it yourself but you’re also very courageous at times. Nothing is going to change the way I feel about you, ever.”

Georgia smiled at him as a tear rolled down her cheek. She had only been awake for approximately 5 minutes and he had made her cry. Bryce looked down when he heard a sniffle and looked at her with a look of adoration mixed with concern.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just... you’re so sweet when were together. Why don’t you show this side more often?”

“You mean in public with our friends?”

She nodded.

“Because this side of me is reserved for moments like this. Where it is just us, and I can be as sappy and loving and worshipping of you as I like without judgement from the likes of Jackie.”

“Bryce...” Georgia smiled genuinely as he bent down to press a soft kiss to her lips. She kissed him back, and when they pulled away their lips were a little plumper.

--- 3 Weeks Later ---

Bryce sighed as he got into his car after one of the most intense surgeries he had conducted, he was equal parts worried as he was tired. What was so urgent that Georgia wanted to speak about? He was taken over by confusion as he drove towards his apartment where he knew his girlfriend was waiting for him. As he parked in the lot of the complex, he took a moment to breathe as he killed the engine before heading upstairs on tired feet. As he opened the door, the familiar smell of his favourite rice dish hit his nostrils and he perked up a bit before dread overtook his senses. If she had cooked his favourite meal what was this about if not breaking up? He stepped over the threshold and closed the door, tossing his keys into the bowl on the table by the door, and hung his jacket on the coat stand, before kicking his shoes off and wriggling his toes with a sigh of relief.

“Bryce!”

“Ah!!” he screamed as his girlfriend ran over and jumped into his arms, hugging tightly.

“I missed you today.”

“I missed you too, honey” he yawned.

Georgia lead him to the couch and sat him down. “You relax here. Dinner is almost ready.” She said with a smile and kiss to his cheek before heading back to his kitchen. When she returned she was carrying a tray that had a massive bowl of rice and chicken on it.

“I’m too tired to lift a fork right now babe. I just got out of an 11 hour surgery and-”

“Stop right there. That’s why there’s only one bowl, I’m going to feed you because you need to eat.”

Bryce smiled with a small chuckle. “You’re going to make an amazing mother to our children one day. You know that?” He asked as he turned his head to look at her, suddenly feeling more alert when he registered how serious her expression had turned. “Is... Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Yeah...”

Georgia placed the tray on the coffee table and sat next to him as he sat forwards and turned his body to face her, and they took each other’s hands.

“Is there something wrong? Are you unable to have them? Because that doesn’t matter if that’s the problem, we can adopt. There’s hundreds of children looking for loving homes. And.”

“Bryce. Will you shut up for one minute and let me talk?” she asked as she cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah. Of course, sorry. I just.”

“It’s okay. I understand. But I wanted to talk about it because I think I’m ready. To start trying for a child. That is.. if you are too?” she said with hopefulness in her tone.

Bryce looked at her as a silence stretched out between them, he watched in awed perplexation as she lightly bit her lower lip, internally asking himself if this was really happening and if he was ready for this step in their relationship too. After a while, Georgia started to get worried.

“Babe? ... B-Bryce?” she asked, her voice loud in the silence bringing Bryce back to the present moment. He looked down at their hands held in one another’s a small smile creeping onto his features as hot tears of emotion pricked his eyes. He looked up to be met with her green orbs sparkling with a mix of emotions as he cleared his throat.

“Yeah.” He nodded, squeezing her hands. “I’m ready too.”

Time seemed to stop in that moment for them yet still go on around them as they hugged tightly whispering sweet nothings to each other and shared kisses that were equally as sweet. They shared the bowl of food and washed it down with their favourite drinks before they both headed to bed, exhausted from their days.

Two months after their discussion, Bryce and Georgia started trying seriously for a child. Soon the days turned to weeks, weeks to months and months to almost a full year until the morning of his 33rd birthday Bryce was woken up by an ear-piercing scream. He flew out of bed and into the bathroom where he found Georgia on the floor crying, and spotted a pregnancy test on the side. He walked over and risked peaking at it, breath catching in his throat as he saw it.

“Babe...” he said quietly as he crouched beside her and pulled her into a hug. Tears glistening his eyes too. Georgia couldn’t manage any words that morning as they got ready and made their way to work other than what food she wanted from the coffee shop as they stopped off on their way to Edenbrook. When they reached the hospital they stopped in the atrium and took a seat on a bench close to the main doors.

“How are you feeling?” Bryce asked

“.... Shocked. I...”

Bryce smiled and squeezed her hand tightly, conveying he knew exactly how she felt with his touch and the look he gave her.

“I wasn’t ready to see a positive after so many negatives. I just. I can hardly process my thoughts. I... How are you feeling?” she asked back looking into his eyes only to be met with a warm, excited smile.

“Honestly. Pretty great, this is like, the best birthday present ever.”

Georgia froze as she suddenly remembered what day it was.

“Ohmygosh. I’m so sorry, I’d planned to cook breakfast for you and everything. Not wake you up by screaming and crying on your bathroom floor.”

“It’s fine babe, honestly. But I have been meaning to talk to you about us too.”

“You have?”

Bryce nodded, uncertainty clouding his eyes for a brief moment before being replaced by his trademark happiness. “I’ve been thinking maybe we should move in together now. I mean, we’re taking the step of having a child, so it only makes sense we live in the same place now instead of separately. Which has been torturous for me by the way.” He said teasingly.

Georgia smiled at him. “We should give it thought for today and talk it over in more detail tonight after work, back at my place.”

“Yeah, sure. No problem.”

They both leaned forward for a kiss, but it was cut short at the sound of a familiar voice ringing out through the atrium.

“VALENTINE!”

Georgia cringed at the sound of Dr. Ramsey’s voice and pulled away with a sigh. “Sorry. I should.. get going.” She whispered.

“Okay. Come. Find me. Later.” Bryce said with a smile, kissing her between each word.

Georgia gave him a smile and returned his kisses before taking her bag and following her boss up to the office to start her day at work.

Inside the office before the morning consult started, Dr. Ramsey rounded on the young doctor.

“You’ve had all morning to suck face rookie, I suggest if you want to do it for longer that you give up your spot for someone who will value it and not act with such reckless abandon.”

“Are you a female, Dr. Ramsey?”

“I’m sorry?” He asked, everyone looking at Georgia confused.

“Are you a female? Did you find out this morning that your pregnant? Is it your boyfriends birthday? And last but certainly not least, is the topic of later discussion with your boyfriend already in your mind? In other words... Are you walking amongst the clouds this morning, Dr. Ramsey?”

“I-”

“You’re pregnant?! Congratulations.” Baz exclaimed happily, wrapping her in a hug. “I’m going to be an uncle, can you believe it?!”

“I’m sure Zaid is going to be thrilled.” A stuck up voice said

“Excuse me. Zaid Mirani is very good with children and not half as bad as he portrays himself.” Georgia said defensively to the posh, stuck up woman who had replaced June’s spot on the team.

“And for future reference, you address Dr. Ramsey with respect as he dese-”

“I suggest you, Dr. Portavia, address the members of my team who have been here longer than you with respect. Including myself. Dr. Valentine is well within her rights to talk to me as she was. We have somewhat of a friendship outside of these walls, I take the boss position too harshly sometimes in moments where I shouldn’t. Now. If we are done with the arguments?”

The team sat around the table. Baz next to Georgia as always and 2 seats left empty between themselves and Dr. Portavia as Dr. Ramsey briefed the team on their new patient.

---

Consumed by the busyness of her day and lost in the amount of tasks she had to do, Georgia completely lost track of time until she ran into Bryce and saw him in his regular clothes.

“Hey babe.” She greeted with a smile and quick kiss before turning to her patients chart she had placed on the desk of the nurses station.

“Hey.” Bryce said back with a yawn. “How are you?”

“Pretty good. Today is hectic but I’d be lying if that wasn’t one of the aspects of this job that excites me.”

“Today? Honey, when was the last time you sat down?”

“In the diagnostics office after I left you this morning.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes. I’ve had a cereal bar that was in my pocket. Other than that I’ve just been keeping my water intake way up. ... Not really had the chance to stop for longer than 2 minutes.”

“And... what day is it?”

Georgia gave a chuckle. “It’s your birthday silly.” But her expression fell as she took in the serious look of concern on Bryce’s face. “Wh-what is it?”

“It’s 4:27am of the day after my birthday.”

“What? No it’s not.”

“Georgia. I’ve been waiting at your place for you all night.”

“But...”

“No buts. You’re clocking out and coming home with me. Now.”

Georgia sighed as she felt sadness and a pang of guilt radiate in her chest. She’d missed her boyfriend’s birthday completely, and now she felt completely rotten.

“Oh. O-okay then. I’ll just... get my... stuff.” She stuttered before heading off to the locker room. Bryce flagging down a nearby nurse and asking them to keep an eye on all of her patients. On their way out they passed Ethan coming into the hospital. He stopped in his tracks as he heard Bryce’s hushed words towards Georgia.

“...you’re pregnant now. You can’t pull almost 24 hour shifts and survive on cereal bars and water anymore. You need to take care of 2 people now.”

Equal parts intrigued and worried, Ethan called out to them.

“Valentine. Lahela.”

Georgia and Bryce stopped in their tracks and turned to him.

“Hey Eth- Dr. Ramsey.” Georgia said sweetly whilst Bryce gave a curt nod to the attending.

“Are you only now going home?” Ethan asked

“I uh...”

“She is. Though I don’t see why it concerns you.” Bryce said coolly

“Bryce. He’s my boss.”

“Right.”

An intense awkward moment passed between the three of them as Bryce stared as Ethan with his chest puffed out, holding Georgia’s hand protectively. They all knew why, but Bryce needn’t worry. Ethan was aware that Georgia didn’t reciprocate his feelings towards her in a romantic way and they were contently settled on being friends. That didn’t stop Bryce from being protective of what was his though, he felt it was his duty to protect her from other bachelors. Young or old.

It was Ethan who broken the silence. “Right, well um. Take the day off and rest properly. I’ll see you tomorrow Valentine.” He said with a soft smile and single nod before heading to the elevators, Bryce walking out to his car still protectively holding Georgia’s hand. When they got back to her apartment Bryce carried Georgia up to her front door, only placing her on her feet to open the door before picking her up again and taking her inside and straight to her bed.

“Keep your butt planted here, I’ll heat up your dinner.”

“Okay.”

Bryce turned quickly and made his way to the kitchen so that Georgia wouldn’t see the worry in his eyes. When he came back with a plate full of steaming hot food, he found the bed empty.

“Babe?” he sighed, placing the plate on the bedside table

“Yeah?”

Bryce turned around and saw Georgia behind him.

“I thought I told you to keep your butt on the bed?”

“I needed to pee.”

“... so?”

“So I went. I wasn’t going to pee my bed Bryce.”

Bryce sighed with dejected tiredness. “Just. Eat your dinner, I’ll come by later or sometime tomorrow and we can talk about moving in together then okay?”

“You... aren’t going to stay?”

“I have a shift that starts in an hour and a half. I can’t.”

“Oh. Okay. Well um, see you later. I love you!” Georgia called out as Bryce moved past her and out of the front door. Guilt settled in Georgia’s chest as she heard the door close behind him, her ‘I love you.’ left unreturned.

--- The Next Day ---

It was late in the afternoon the next day and Georgia was half way through her rounds when she bumped into someone’s chest as she rounded a corner.

“Oh! Sor- Oh. Bryce.” She said as she turned her gaze to the floor and maneuvered around him and carried on her way. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since he left her in her apartment to head to work the previous morning, so she knew to avoid him. It had always been that way for her, she had a good relationship with someone, things went great, then she got carried away with something she loves to do and makes them mad, they don’t talk to her, she avoids them. So when Bryce caught her arm gently and pulled her back, it took her by surprise and her breath hitched.

“I have work to do. I need to get to the lab.” She said professionally never meeting his gaze.

“I’ll walk with yo-”

“No. I’m internal medicine. You’re a surgeon. There’s no reason we need to be walking together unless we’re heading to the same patient room.”

“I’m also your boyfriend.”

“Are you? Because the last time I checked, even if a boyfriend is mad with their other half, they at least send them a message saying hey, hoping their okay and ending it with I love you. Which by the way, you never returned. So if you’ll excuse me, I have to get some run-ups done on these blood samples.” Georgia huffed as she turned on her heel and stomped towards the labs.

“Georgia!” Bryce called out as he chased her through the halls.

“Just leave me alone, Bryce.”

“Would you just talk to me for a second and tell me what’s wrong?!”

Georgia halted to an abrupt stop.

“I told you what’s wrong Bryce. You’ve not text me back, you’ve ignored my calls and you never returned my ‘I love you.’ yesterday. I’m pregnant with your goddamn child and you’re acting like one all because I lost track of time and almost worked 24 hours! I get that could have endangered the baby but I’m a doctor, Bryce. I was going to eat a proper meal as soon as I got home.”

“And when was that going to be?”

“As soon as I’d filled in those charts and said goodnight to my patients. I was 20 minutes from being done for the day when you dragged me away.”

“I did not drag you!”

“I’m not saying you physically dragged me.”

“Then what are you saying?”

Georgia just gave him a look and just like he had done to her, walked away from him without another word, leaving Bryce to throw his arms up in exasperation before heading back to work. Soon months had passed, and Georgia was now 7 months pregnant. She and Bryce got over there little bump and had made the decision to move into a 3 bed house close to Edenbrook, which they had both gotten the day off of work to move into properly. Georgia watched from the top of the stairs as Bryce carried in the last box from his car, kicking the door shut behind him. Feeling her gaze on him, he looked up flashing his trademark grin with a wink.

“Like what you see?”

“What I see impregnated me, sooo..”

“Fair point.” He chuckled then pointed to the box. “Last one. Where’s it going? It’s not labelled.”

“In our bedroom.” Georgia smiled before heading towards the nursery to carry on clicking the pieces of the plastic drawers that would hold the toys together. She was clicking the wheels in place when Bryce came in the room smiling at her.

“What?” Georgia asked with a brow raised in curiosity.

“Nothing. I just feel like a proper adult now. I have a job, a beautiful girlfriend, we have a baby on the way and we just got our first place together.” He said, sitting next to her and pulling her to his chest as he leant back on the wall. Georgia smiling up at him. “Yeah. It does feel pretty great doesn’t it?” she smiled. They stayed there in the spot for a while, just looking out of the window and watching the trees swaying in the wind before carrying on with building, and setting things up. After a long day moving into their new house, they settled into bed after enjoying a warm bubble bath together, excited for the day they would be able to finally meet their bundle of joy.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph! First, you're amazing. Second I haven't connected to anyone in the fandom, probably because I came late and haven't contributed, well, anything. No one in my life knows about my obsession with Johnlock/TJLC. However, I'm dying to talk about it with someone and you're so kind to your nonnies. Here's one thought I'd like your opinion on. In the ambulance scene after Sherlock is shot doesn't John seem not that bothered, or is it just me? (1)

Hey Nonny!

Ah, this was the only part of your ask I got, so I’ll answer your only question, with my opinion and a personal anecdote.

John is ABSOLUTELY panicking (as is implied a couple scenes after when John happily announces Sherlock made it), but my guess is as a former soldier and trauma doctor AND as a current doctor, John knows how to compartmentalize his emotions and feelings that make him able to deal with crises as they come up – that’s why he’s a “very good” doctor (and why his reaction to Mary’s shooting is so off with me, but I digress) – and it allowed John to think in step-by-step manner. Save the life first, have a break down later. His first priority was to save Sherlock’s life. 

I can tell you from personal experience that we all panic in our own way when trauma occurs. When my dad passed away, the doctors didn’t even know I was related to my Dad when we got to the hospital because I wasn’t outwardly grieving. In a crisis, my brain automatically goes to “solve this problem” mode, and I shut down my emotions until later. My mother and my sister were hysterical, so it was up to me to collect my sister from work, drive us an hour to the hospital, and call my uncle from the hospital and make the initial plans and speak for my mother. I appeared uncaring, but the truth is, I went numb... for almost a year and a half. I didn’t grieve for a VERY long time, and it’s still hard for me to think about.

The point I’m trying to make is that we all grieve differently, and John absolutely strikes me as a prioritizer in a trauma situation. He absolutely cared <3

Anyway, thank you for your kind words, and never hesitate to contact me. I’m TERRIBLY slow at replies because of my own stress in my personal life, so don’t take it personally, but I try my best. <3