I Hate Christmas - Sherlock x (y/n)

Word count: 1784

Warnings: none

“Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson called from downstairs. “It’s (y/n)!”

Sherlock hurried down the stairs as quickly as he could. “Ah, (y/n). Finally. John and Mary are preparing dinner upstairs and I’ll be heading out for a bit.”

“Sherlock!” You said, exasperated. “You promised you’d stay. Even if you had a case. It’s Christmas for Christ’s sake.”

“I hate Christmas.” He said with a sneer. “It brings about carolers and holiday cheer.”

“Oh, Sherlock. Promise me you’ll still come home for dinner and presents.”

“Food is for the weak and I told everyone not to get me anything. I also did not get anything for anyone else…” He said trailing off.


“Fine. I promise I’ll be home for dinner and presents.” He said rolling his eyes. “Even if I don’t eat and I don’t have presents.”

“Good boy.” You said smiling brightly. You bounced into the building away from the cold, chilling air of London. Sherlock moved past you and into the freezing air.

“I’m not a boy (y/n). I’m a man. A very smart one at that.” He said quickly, as if in a rush, which to be honest he probably was. He then briskly walked away. Mrs. Hudson gave you a sad smile.

“Sorry about him dear. That’s Sherlock though. Always dashing about. Anyhow, might you come up for a spot of tea? John and Mary’s food smells so delicious.”

You smiled kindly at her, “Of course, Mrs. Hudson. Thank you.”

Time Skip

“Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock’s loud voice rang from downstairs. “I’m back for Christmas dinner.” He said in a disgusted tone you could tell he wasn’t really trying to hide. He walked upstairs quickly, taking the steps two at a time. He walked past you hastily, using his coat to conceal something that he was carrying. “Mrs. Hudson, John, (y/n) don’t wait up. I’ll be in my room wrapping things up. I’ll be back in a wink.” He said winking at you. You blushed profusely. Trying to cover it up, you said, “Shall we start eating?”

“Of course.” John said with a happy smile.

“Mary, the pie looks delicious.” You said to her.

“Oh, I didn’t make it. John did. He’s a great baker.” She said bragging slightly about her wonderful husband.

“Well then John, it looks simply divine.” You said excited to dig in to the wonderful looking food.

Time Skip – After Dinner

“Oh, the meal was so scrumptious.” Mrs. Hudson commented, a little bit sleepy from the meal.

“It was.” You said, a bit sleepy yourself. “It was too bad Sherlock didn’t eat anything.” You said clearing the last of the plates from the table. As if on cue Sherlock emerged from his room.

“Time for presents.” He said lazily, as if bored with the whole affair and idea of Christmas. Little did you know, inside he was having a silent panic attack. He secretly slipped something under the tree.

“Ok.” You said giddily, smiling like a child. “I’m excited to see what you got me Mr. Holmes.” You said nudging him in the side.

“Nothing.” He responded. “I told you earlier that I didn’t get anyone anything.”

You looked down, slightly saddened by this sentence. Your Christmas cheer was being ruined by Sherlock.

“You know you don’t have to be such a spoilsport.”

“I actually do.”

“Why, Sherlock?”

“The idea of buying people presents gives some people anxiety. Anxiety about not getting the right thing. In fact, it is scientifically proven that people have more stress around the holidays.” He said with a completely straight face.

“Really Sherlock? You don’t buy people presents because you’re afraid you’ll get the wrong thing?”

“That is what I said, yes.” He said rolling his eyes.

“Sherlock… We’re your friends. We’ll be happy with anything you give us.”

“Really?” He said raising an eyebrow. “Last Christmas John said he loved my gift. He lied. I read his body language. He was not at all pleased with my gift. I was given a mental talent for reading people and it is a blessing and a curse. Let me ask you something, (y/n). Do you sometimes wish I were a normal person? That I’m unable to read people like a book?”

Without missing a heartbeat, you answered his question honestly, “No. You are perfect. If you weren’t the way you were you would never have met me. You never would have been ‘The Great Sherlock Holmes’, and I never would have come to you with my case.”

He clasped his hands together, thinking deeply. “Hmm… You’re right.”

“As I always am.” You said.

“Not always.” He corrected quickly.

You laughed. John and Mary came out of the kitchen. “What’s so funny?” John asked.

“Nothing, nothing.” You said. “Let’s go. I can’t possibly wait any longer. I can feel the presents calling to me.”

“Presents don’t talk.” Sherlock mentioned quietly.

“They do in my mind palace.” You said, teasing him.

He sighed tiredly, “Let’s just get on with the presents.”

John cleared his throat. “Ok then. Let’s see, first present.” He picked up a box with green wrapping. He said out loud, “For Mary and John, from (y/n).” You smiled as they unwrapped it together. They pulled out a small onesie.

“It’s for the baby.” You said smiling brightly. “Do you guys like it?”

Mary turned to you. “Oh, (y/n). We love it!” She came over to hug you.

John said, “Thank you (y/n). It’s a wonderful gift.”

You picked the next box. “For Sherlock, from John and Mary.” You smiled at the couple as you unwrapped the present for Sherlock. You pulled out a hat. You laughed. Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked at the hat in disgust. You smiled at Mary, “Thanks guys.” You looked at John and mouthed, “I’ll make him wear it.” The next present was for Mrs. Hudson, from John and Mary. It was a nice pink shawl. John and Mary had given you a nice coat that matched Sherlock’s. The presents from John and Mary were all wonderful. Next, it was your turn to give everyone presents. You had already given John and Mary their present so you gave Mrs. Hudson hers. Sher pulled out a blouse, a skirt, and a pair of heels all matching the same royal blue color. “Thank you, dear.” She said smiling at you.

“Of course, Mrs. Hudson.” You said, matching her smile. Then you handed Sherlock his present. He opened it and was surprised to see a brand new blue scarf.

“Thank you very much, (y/n).” He said looking over at you.

You smiled at him, “Anything for you, Sherlock.”

Mrs. Hudson seemed to be ready to bounce out of her seat. Sher quickly handed everyone their presents. Your gift was a nice jumper. “Mrs. Hudson, did you knit this all by yourself?” You inquired.

“Yes I did.” She said quite proudly. Sherlock’s was a fancy suit.

“Mrs. Hudson, where did you get this?” He asked.

“Oh, it was from a real fancy shop. I know you have a lot of suits, but this one just seemed to pop to me. It would look perfect on you. I mean you have all black suits; you never wear blue. I thought it would look real nice on you.”

“Thank you. I like it.” He said cautiously, as if his words might offend her. Everyone looked around. There were no more presents to be opened. Everyone looked expectantly at Sherlock. They didn’t seem surprised, however. They soon all packed up and left, save for Mrs. Hudson, who had gone upstairs. You started to clean up the trash on the ground from the presents. Sherlock watched you carefully, studying you. You had finished clearing all of the wrapping paper from around the tree when a little twinkle from under the tree caught your eye. You reached a hand under the tree and felt a box. You pulled it out. It was a small box covered with shiny silver wrapping paper. Carefully you turned it over, ‘To my dear (y/n), from your Sherlock,’ it said in fancy writing on the wrapping paper. You turned to Sherlock and he gave you a smile. “I didn’t want you to open it in front of everyone.” He said smirking at your surprised face.

“Here, I thought you were a pompous jackass who was too good to get anyone anything.” You commented, joking lightly. Sherlock only rolled his eyes.

“Open it.” He said. “Before I change my mind and return it.”

“Now I know what you meant when you said you were in your room, ‘wrapping things up’. You meant it literally, that you actually were ‘wrapping something up’. Gosh, you are clever.”

“I know.” He said, sarcastically. “Now open it.”

You excitedly ripped off the wrapping paper. Inside was a black square velvet box. You gasped in surprise. It was from Tiffany’s. You traced your fingers along the velvet on the outside of the box. “What is it?” You asked Sherlock, looking over at him. He only smiled mysteriously.

“Open it and see.”

You opened the box to see the diamond necklace you had been drooling over for a long time every time you passed the window of Tiffany’s. “Sherlock! You didn’t have to get me this.”

“I actually did. Did you think I wouldn’t notice how every day when we walked past the store you looked longingly and lovingly at this necklace. I read John, I can read you too.”

“Sherlock! This is just too much. I-I” You were at a loss for words. You looked down at the box and noticed there was another, much smaller, box inside. You picked it up. “Sherlock… What’s this?”

He stayed silent. So you took the box carefully in your hands and opened it up. Inside was a beautiful diamond ring. You gasped. “Oh my. Oh my gosh.” You looked up at Sherlock. He smiled mysteriously.

“I see no need to get on one knee and all so I’ll just say it. Will you (y/n) (y/l/n) the most beautiful and clever and kind and funny person I have ever met and also my favorite human being in this entire wretched world, agree to be my wife?”

“Yes, Sherlock. Yes of course I’ll be your wife.” You stood up to hug him and as you hugged you noticed a small green plant hanging on top of Sherlock’s head. You smiled. As you pulled apart from the hug you pecked Sherlock on the lips.

“What was that for?” He questioned.

“Tradition.” You responded with a smirk.

“I hate tradition.”

“Is there anything you don’t hate?”

“I don’t hate you.”

You smiled softly. “Hey, don’t get soft on me now Mr. Holmes.”

“I won’t Mrs. Holmes.”

The End


“ In my eyes, she is beautiful.  I love her. I am happy and tickled and bursting with pride that she would agree to be my wife. And I want us to live as closely as two people can, for the time that remains to us on earth.”  

- Charles Carson S06EP01


Darlie Routier - A Mother’s Undoing.

The day of June 6, 1996, had been a busy one for the Routier family of Rowlett, Texas. Father Darin put the family’s infant son in his crib and bade goodnight to his wife Darlie and two sons, Damon (5) and Devon (6), who were sleeping together downstairs in the rec room. He went upstairs to the bedroom and went to sleep.

Darin was startled awake some time later by the sound of his wife Darlie screaming for help. Dashing downstairs, Mr Routier discovered a scene of utter carnage; his two sons bleeding heavily from knife wounds, his wife screaming hysterically with a knife injury of her own, and the kitchen in shambles. Darlie gasped incoherently about an intruder standing over her with a knife and his escape from a window in the utility room. Darrin Routier bravely tried to administer CPR on his sons, but it was too late; both boys had died by the time police and ambulance services arrived. The cause of death was determined to be punctured lungs due to knife wounds, and the deaths ruled a homicide.

Darlie was taken to hospital to have the slash wound on her neck treated. She was still hysterical, but managed to tell the same story about a medium-tall intruder dressed in black clothes and a baseball cap mounting her as she slept on the sofa. She denied hearing the intruder kill her sons, and admitted to picking up the knife the killer had dropped on the floor. The only motive for the crime that she gave investigators was simply ‘Robbery’.

Police carefully combed the Routier house for any clues that might prove useful. Immediately investigators noticed certain conflicting details:

- Darlie claimed the killer was an intruder whose motive was robbery, but the murder weapon was an ordinary kitchen knife that belonged to the Routier home.

- Despite the robbery going awry, the attacker didnt take anything with them; several peices of expensive jewelery was on the kitchen counter and Darlie’s purse was in the same room. The kitchen was noticably shambolic as if someone had hurriedly tried to stage the room to look as if it had been robbed.

- The window and broken screen the intruder was supposed to enter and exit the house from was free from bloodstains and disturbances, and the soft ground bore no fresh tracks. The offender would have been covered in blood from the brutal attack, yet there were no reports of suspicious persons or discarded clothing at any point during the investigation.

- A Luminol test administered during the crime scene examination showed several blood spatters and a childs bloody handprint had been wiped clean from the leatherette sofa suite. A flower vase had also been wiped down and arranged to look as if it had been knocked to the floor. A bloody scrap of towel was discovered, and sections of the kitchen counter had been scrubbed. Someone had tried to destroy evidence, but why?

It became apparent to police that Darlie Routier had something to hide, especially when she adamantly stuck to her story about the intruder. As they delved deeper into her life and marriage, a different picture of the pretty blonde housewife began to emerge. Darlie had suffered from post partum depression, she had voiced her frustrations over coping with her children, and - most interestingly of all - that she and Darrin were facing banktrupcy and a lifestyle change. Darlie liked nice things, and didnt want to settle for a more modest standard of living. The marriage grew tense and stressed, until finally it all came to a head; in the most hellish way possible.

While police focused their interests on Darlie, the mother herself was causing a stir amongst her family and friends. Nurses at the hospital who treated her said she didnt seem particularly perturbed over the deaths of her sons and appeared “bored and disinterested” whenever anyone tried to console her. When the family got together, everyone cried except Darlie; nobody ever saw her shed a single tear, and she talked more about wanting to replace the carpet and pick out new curtains than she did about the funeral arrangements. On the day the Routiers bade farewell to their sons, Darlie remained stoic yet was heard whispering “I’m sorry” to the boys caskets.

When the media interest waned, police again moved to make a case against Darlie. They seized the dispatch call for the night the boys died and collected photographs of the chaotic crime scene. Even when they believed they had enough evidence, investigators waited for the grieving mother to mis-step.

Some months later Darlie and Darrin organized a posthumous seventh birthday party for Devon at his graveside. TV crews converged to film the event, and soon the grave was crowded with presents, flowers, and soft toys. To the horror of everyone present, Darlie produced a can of Silly String and sprayed it all over her dead son’s grave as the priest delivered a speech. Darlie passed it off as having fun, but many thought it inappropriate behavior from a bereaved parent. The police certainely did. They arrested Darlie four days later and charged her with two counts of capital murder.

Darlie Routier was now literally on trial for her life. The prosecution presented a solid case against her, and successfuly painted her as a callous social climber and neglectful mother. The defense retaliated by rehashing the intruder story and reiterating how much she had loved her sons. Despite their valiant efforts, Darlie Routier was found guilty of murdering her two sons and sentenced to Death Row, where she still resides. Her case has sparked calls for criminal reform, and there is still a solid percentage of the American population that believes a miscarriage of justice has occured, and Darlie is innocent.

John is trying to learn how to style little Rosie’s blonde head of curls, but he has NO IDEA where to even start. Very gently Sherlock suggests that he may be able to assist since he has some experience with such things. The next thing John knows Sherlock has made Rosie’s (and his) day. He shows John how to gently run a wide tooth comb and a little leave in conditioner through her hair and how to dry it by squeezing the hair gently with an old cotton t-shirt (“Never a towel John! My God the fibers alone!”).

After her hair is set Sherlock pins a little blue ribbon to it, saying it matches her eyes. John’s heart swells when Rosie hugs Sherlock quickly around the neck as tight as she can and whispers “Thank you Sherlock” then runs away to go ask Mrs. Hudson downstairs for some treats and to show off her pretty new hair style. As soon as she’s gone John clears his throat and smiles at Sherlock. In that moment he realizes just how much he truly loves this man who continues to amaze him, everyday, even in the most mundane ways.

Vans Girls: Mr. Downstairs

We recently met up with the band Mr. Downstairs in Los Angeles, CA and they played us some brand new songs and told us a little bit about how the band came to be and what they are looking forward to about playing together. Watch the video above for an exclusive acoustic performance and to learn a little more about Mr. Downstairs. And, since I am sitting in the airport right now waiting to board a flight to Warped Tour, I think it’s an appropriate time to tell you guys some more exciting news about the band. You can catch Mr. Downstairs at the Vans Girls tent at the Carson, CA date of this summer’s Vans Warped Tour. They will be doing a signing and acoustic set, so make sure to come hang out with us if that’s your stop! If it’s not, don’t worry we’ll post some photos and videos then too. Also, make sure to check back later this week for more behind the scenes from this shoot and maybe even a big fat bonus [hint hint!]

Check out tons more photos from the shoot on the Vans Girls Facebook page, and you can even head over to to steal their look! All photos by Celina Kenyon.

Okay, I have to get this out of my system:

I believe with all my heart that Greg was so happy about Sherlock’s finally getting his name right, he had to tell SOMEONE, and of course the most likely candidate would be Mrs. Hudson, downstairs on his way out.

After he told her with a big grin on his face, she almost certainly clasped her hands together, emitted an adorable high-pitched “Oooh!” And then hugged him.

The East Wind - Sherlock Holmes

A/n- Okay I want to do a part 2 but please let me know if you want me tooooo!!!


You were sitting in the hectic flat reading a book that you had been very interested in. It was peaceful in 221b for once and you took advantage of that. Sherlock and John were on a case and Mrs Hudson was downstairs cleaning. The silence was almost like music to your ears. That was until, you had a little visit…

“Hello Y/N…” the man mumbled. You immediately knew who it was.

“Mycroft. How can I help you?” You asked arising from Sherlocks black leather arm chair and turning towards the tall man. You had known Mycroft for quite a while, longer then Sherlock actually! You used to work with Mycroft full time, but now he only asks for you when necessary.

“I need you to follow me, I have someone that would like to meet you.. if it was down to me you wouldn’t be going but unfortunately, we promised her this.”

You could tell by the worry on his face that he meant what he had said. But you agreed and placed your book down on the arm of Sherlocks chair and grabbed your coat. You followed Mycroft to the car and got in.

“What’s going on Mycroft? What am I about to get myself into?” You asked, a little worry evident in your voice. Mycroft turned to face you and stated for a bit before giving you your answer.

“Honestly Y/N, i’m not to sure…” you took that as a good idea to message your flat mate and best friend.

“Sherlock, your brother has asked me to help him with something, i’ll be back soon! Don’t annoy anyone to much ;) - Y/N”

You smiled at yourself and pressed send before putting your phone in your pocket and relaxing into the leather seats.

You finally arrived at where ever it was that you were and Mycroft took you down to a room. He opened the door and you saw a women standing with her back facing the grey wall in front of her with her back to the glass in front of you. You looked up at Mycroft when he spoke.

“Eurus, you have your visitor, do play nice” he said before turning to you. “I’ll be right outside, if anything happens use this card and get out of here” you nodded and smiled slightly at the Holmes brother.

“Hello Y/N… i’ve been waiting to meet you for a long time… the girl that my brother has fallen for…” she turned round to fave you and edged closer to the door. “Im Eurus. Stupid name really it means the east wind…”

You took a step forward towards the glass, a little confused you were about to ask what she meant by her brother falling for you, but she was already answering that question.

“Oh Y/N… Sherlock Holmes is head over heels for you… I’ve seen it!” This confused you…

“How have you seen it Eurus? Your in here… you cant get out…” you questioned.

“Oh please y/n… what if I was to say… Big Brothers watching you?” She stated in a thick accent. You gasped as you realised thats what she had said to Sherlock when the three of you had been out in London.

“Faith? But how did you… I mean… what?” You asked completely puzzled and unsure.

“Might want to answer Sherlocks text Y/N, wouldn’t want him getting worried. I just wanted to meet you before my plan is all. I look forward to seeing you again very shortly. Good bye Y/N” she sung the last few words and turned around again before you left. As you stepped out of the room Mycroft looked at you unsure of what had happened. You ignored him and pulled out your phone. 3 missed calls and 3 new messages.

“Y/N, where are you going? - SH”
“Where is Mycroft taking you? - SH”
“Sherlock’s in hospital, he freaked out big time.. come ASAP - JW”

The last one caused worry to tingle through your body. “Mycroft we need to go to the hospital now!” You screamed

“Y/N? Whats wrong?”

“NOW MYCROFT!” You shouted before picking up pace.

Mycroft dropped you at the hospital before driving away again. You ran up the stairs and found John trying to get into a room which you guessed was Sherlock’s. At long last he managed to get in and you followed behind. You gasped at the sight. Your best friend in a hospital bed in an awful state and Culverton Smith next to him. You was to worried about Sherlock to notice what was going on. The next thing you knew, Smith was gone. You looked at Sherlock as if to ask what was going on but he just grabbed your hand in response.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here Sherlock…” you sighed. He just squeezed your hand and said he would explain everything when he was out.

And he did. He showed you the video Mary left for him. You began to get teary and sat down on the arm of Sherlocks chair at the sight of seeing Mary again. He walked over to you and hugged you, before changing the subject.

“Where did Mycroft take you?” He asked.

“I met the east wind…” you hummed before walking into the kitchen.

“Tea?” You asked the detective before grabbing two cups thinking nothing of Eurus ever again. Or so you thought…


I love this song so much. I must say I adore Dani being in Mr. Downstairs more than The Millionaires. 

The Red Boxers
  • John: *enters 221B, carrying a laundry basket* Mrs Hudson asked me to bring this up.
  • Sherlock: *glances at him from his armchair* Just put that in my bedroom. *as an afterthought* Please. *closes his eyes*
  • John: *comes back a minute later, clutching a pair of red boxers in his hand* This looks familiar. Is this... mine?
  • Sherlock: *with eyes still closed* No. Look at it closely. *assumes thinking pose*
  • John: *smooths pants over his open palm and inspects the underwear* *his eyes widen* Oh. *turns to his best friend* A bee and a skull? How have I never seen this before?
  • Sherlock: How would you? Molly bought that for me only a few weeks ago.
  • John: *his jaw drops* You... and Molly? Y-you're––
  • Sherlock: Yes.
  • John: *stands in front of Sherlock with his hands on his hips, the other one still clutching the pants* *in a barely concealed angry voice* Please tell me that this is real. I can't let you hurt her, especially after everything she's been through FOR you and BECAUSE of you! Sherlock, Molly loves you! And she deserves better than to be treated like you treated Janine!
  • Sherlock: *opens his eyes* *levels a cool gaze on John* This isn't like the Janine thing. There's no case, and I don't need to pretend that I'm in love with Molly. This is as real as the pants that you're still holding.
  • John: So you're dating Molly for real?
  • Sherlock: *impatiently* Yes!
  • John: *heaves a sigh of relief* Good to hear that. *throws the pants onto Sherlock's lap* Since when?
  • Sherlock: *takes a deep breath* Since she woke up from her coma. Mary was adamant that I didn't waste another minute. So, while I wasn't used to speaking about my feelings... *purses his lips* I made an effort to tell her––as eloquently as I could––that I love her.
  • John: *smirks and crosses his arms* In short, you blurted it out and confused the hell out of her?
  • Sherlock: *pouts* Yes. But, to her credit, she quickly grasped my meaning after I repeated it. She, of course, couldn't properly jump up and snog me, since she just came out of a nine-week coma. But she smiled and squeezed my hand, enough for me to know that she still loved me. We had a proper talk about it once she started to recover. *smiles up at John*
  • John: You waited until her doctor cleared her for more, er, vigorous activities, right?
  • Sherlock: *clears his throat* Of course. Bleeding through the sheets usually ruins the mood.
  • John: *chuckles* *beams at Sherlock* I'm happy for the two of you, Sherlock. *lays his hands on his friend's shoulders and forces him to look him in the eye* You are aware that it wouldn't end well for you if you break her heart, right?
  • Sherlock: *rolls his eyes* Yes, yes, I'm fully aware of that. Mary said she wouldn't hesitate to shoot me again if Molly ever comes to her crying because of me.
  • John: And I'll be right with her when she shoots you. *straightens up* So, why did you call me out here? Do we have a case?
  • Sherlock: No. *stands up and leaves his pants on his armchair* We're going to Glasgow to ask Molly's mother for her hand in marriage. *puts on his coat, scarf, and gloves* Well, I will ask, while you and Mary vouch for me. *glances back at his best friend* Come along, John. We have a train to catch.
Sirius' First Time Staying at the Potters

Ok but let’s imagine little 12 year old Sirius and before they got off the train to go home, James told him he could come to his place if things got bad at home (because we all know the other Marauders would have figured out by then that Sirius’s house was basically a living hell)

And little 12 year old Sirius showing up at the Potters at 2 o'clock in the morning all bruised and bloodied and crying and stumbling out of the fireplace covered in soot from head to toe

And little 12 year old Sirius hysterical and repeatedly apologizing to Mr. and Mrs. Potter (who came downstairs to find that the large bang they had heard was Sirius tripping over their coffee table and knocking over a vase or something) and saying that James had promised he could come stay with them and please don’t kick him out don’t make him go back to his awful parents

And little 12 year old James coming down to see what all the racket is and finding his very best friend traumatized and panicky and so he goes over and hugs him and tells him everything will be ok and that’s he’s safe now

And Mr. and Mrs. Potter are horrified at how terrified little Sirius is and they don’t understand how anyone could possibly be so mean to their own child and Mrs. Potter goes to get him a cup of tea and Mr. Potter goes to look at Sirius’s injuries (to make sure they don’t need to take him to Saint Mungo’s) but Sirius doesn’t realize Mr. Potter just wants to raise his chin a little to get a better look at his face and thinks Mr. Potter is trying to hit him so he flinches and starts freaking out because oh god I shouldn’t have come and now he’s mad at me what have I done they must hate me

And the three Potters spending several hours trying to calm Sirius down and eventually Sirius is just so exhausted he cries himself to sleep and Mr. Potter has to carry him upstairs to James’s room (because James insisted that Sirius have his bed) and Mrs. Potter fixes him up a bit but then he wakes up a little and starts crying and whimpering so James crawls into bed with him to try and make him feel safer

And James inviting Remus and Peter over to make Sirius feel better and Mr. and Mrs. Potter deciding that they’re going to take care of Sirius because he’s such a sweet boy but he’s petrified of getting sent back to his family so he’s always trying to help out around the house even though he doesn’t really need to

And little 12 year old Sirius never being happier in his life and feeling all warm and fuzzy inside whenever Mrs. Potter calls him her darling or Mr. Potter calls him ‘son’

And I just can’t right now guys sorry I’m afraid I’ve made myself cry


“If you fight like a married couple, talk like best friends, flirt like first lovers and protect each other like siblings then you know you are meant to be together.”


for the amazing ladies of the Downton whatsapp group ;)