and a little bit of john and sherlock as they live there

I just need to hug Mycroft. He has had to live with the knowledge that his sister killed a little boy, traumatized their brother, plotted to kill Sherlock (those drawings were the stuff of nightmares), burned down their home, and would have to be locked away for the rest of her life for everyone’s safety. And then, to spare his parents further pain in a logical, but misguided, way, he had to tell them she died. And he lived alone with the knowledge that she lived…and even existed.

He couldn’t kill the governor and threw up when he watched the man shoot himself.

Then he tried to make it easier for Sherlock to kill him over John, because he believed it was all his fault (a little bit true) and because without John, he knew Rosie would be an orphan and Sherlock would destroy himself over what he had done.

He cares. So much. And tries to hide it because he believes all that his heart has done has brought pain to him and his family.

I just need to hold him.

Sherlock was sitting at the table working on an experiment and had some time ago looked up to see the book laid across John’s chest and the slow rhythmic moves of his breathing.  He should get up to move the book so it doesn’t fall or John lose his page, but he doesn’t want to disturb John.

The monitor sits on the coffee table between them and Rosie had been napping for about an hour now.  Every now and then Sherlock would hear her move or a little noise escape from her, wondering whether he should go check on her even though he knew she was still sleeping.

He went back to examining his slides content in the fact that his Watsons were home where they belonged after the flat had been rebuilt.

These days 221b was a bit different, more put together. It had to be for a toddler to live in and Sherlock was still in shock of how it had happened.  John had just showed up one evening with a pack n go cot and Rosie’s bag and his bag hitched over his shoulder.

Sherlock had asked if there was something wrong with John’s place and the answer John gave him shocked him to the core.  “You’re not there.”

He didn’t expect it mean what he’d hoped at the time but now as he sat here six months later a small smile crossed his lips.  It had begun slowly, John had arranged for a babysitter one night and asked Sherlock out to dinner and from there it was history.  And not long after that he had sold his place and him and Rosie moved into Baker Street.  This time Mrs Hudson was right, they’d only be needing the one bedroom because the one at the top of the stairs had to be converted to a nursery.  She beamed, it was her proudest moment after all these years.

Just then a soft coo broke Sherlock from his thoughts and he was up the stairs silently and quickly.  

“Hush little one, we don’t want to wake daddy” He gently whispered to her and she cooed back happily reaching out for her favourite blanket as Sherlock took her to the changing table to change her.

“And how was your nap little one?”

Rosie laughed and gurgled at him in response and that had been what woke John up.  He stayed sat and listened to the small talk between Sherlock and Rosie as Sherlock took care of her after her nap.

When they came downstairs, Sherlock was disappointed he’d forgotten to shut the monitor off, they’d woken John.

“I should be getting up anyway or I’d never sleep tonight,” he said as he got up and laid his book on the table and reached up to give Rosie a kiss on the cheeks and then Sherlock a kiss on the lips.

“Thank you for getting her and allowing me a few extra moments.”

“Anytime John.” Sherlock responded back. “Would you like some tea?“ He asked as John took Rosie from him?

“That would be nice, thank you and could you get Rosie’s bottle ready.”

“Absolutely,” he smiled.

And this was now life at 221b Baker Street, but don’t fool yourselves, it was much more than that. There were still cases and friends around but John was home and John was family and Sherlock couldn’t be happier. This was home.

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they are still there they are living happily together they are in love, they have baths together with candles and bath bombs and bubbles and tea and breakfast every day together. one time john makes sherlock a birthday cake and it’s not perfect and looks a little bit silly but they eat it together and it’s perfect. they are both soft kind gentle good loving tender beautiful humans with huge hearts and they buy fluffy soft blankets and and stand next to each other when they brush their teeth. they put their cold toes on each other at night and pad around the flat in big soft cozy socks on sherlocks have bees johns have stars. sherlock has a collection of tinted lip balm john applies it for him sometimes when they’re on a case and it’s cold out. sherlock plays violin for john. john sings to sherlock. sherlock is soft and tender and tall and wiggly and has a big beautiful science brain and loves dogs and bees and loves john most of all and he has a favorite shirt but when he’s wearing a certain pair of socks a different shirt is his favorite and he likes his tea in the purple cup in the morning and he can tell what everyone else’s favorite color mug is too. john is gentle and soft and kind and has beautiful eyelashes and is strong and knows just how to care for sherlock in just the right way and knows how to hold him just right and he loves candles and poetry and soft pajama shirts and the way the light shines orange into the flat in the afternoon and most of all he loves sherlock and their life is made of firelight and gentleness and glowing soft eyes love

Oh. My. God. Mofftiss, you beautiful, heartless, amazing bastards. The Final Problem was quite possibly, for me, the best episode of Sherlock ever. 

Sian Brooke as Euros was SO GOOD. Seriously, the level of acting it takes to portray a character like that must be ridiculous, she hit the mark on so many levels. 

Serious heart-in-mouth moment when Sherlock and Molly were on the phone. My little shipper heart nearly burst. At the same time it felt unresolved, so I hope they come back to that. At the end when they’re back at Baker Street, I wonder how much time’s passed between the phonecall at that bit? I really hope that call gets brought up again at some point, because I think (and hope) it was true coming from Sherlock as well as Molly. 

I did a similar double-take when Moriarty got out of the helicopter. I just went “HOLY FUCK HE LIVES” and then when it said “5 years ago” I was a bit miffed but still fascinating at how he could be even more dangerous when dead than alive. Holy shitsauce. 

At the heart of it all, Benedict Cumberbatch, Martin Freeman and Mark Gatiss played their characters outstandingly, and said characters were written outstandingly. Gatiss and Steven Moffat slotted in so many hilarious, heartbreaking, heartstopping and heartwarming moments. Being in the cinema for it was just an added bonus. As I said above: best episode of Sherlock yet, if not ever.

Thoughts on Sherlock S4E3

So the way they finally incorporated Victor Trevor was heartbreaking.

And I adore Sherlock’s rebuttal to Mycroft’s assertion that their sister is beyond reach, which is really a rebuttal to anything Mycroft has tried to convince him of. And just how all of Sherloc’s emotional growth over the course of the series is highlighted by events, especially the end.

Plus, it has Johnlock as canon as I ever expected it to be: Mary basically giving them her blessing from beyond the grave, and the two of them solving cases and raising John’s daughter (I can’t tell if John is still living on his own with his daughter or if he’s moved back in - probably the former, though).

Honestly, I think I’ll be a little bit angry if Sherlock continues, because in many ways this was the perfect bow out. I’m not saying I wouldn’t watch any episodes after this, but sometimes I think it’s important to know where to end a story - something the modern world of franchises doesn’t always get.

A good night’s sleep

Originally posted by thebritishspace

A/N: Tried something. Let me know what you think about it! :) <3 

You lied awake and stared out of the window. The snow was very calming. Especially in the warm light of the lanterns. It was comfortable on the sofa in John’s and Sherlock’s living-room, but also lonely. Sometimes loneliness was something you seeked - but not that night. Usually you didn’t sleep over at Baker Street. After all you had your own apartment, your own furniture, dishes and bed. You loved your apartment and your job as a librarian. It was all calm and easy and simple and wonderful. You didn’t share the cold intelligence of your brothers and you weren’t a bit disappointed about it. Still, it sometimes made things between you, Sherlock and Mycroft a little complicated. They could be very hard to deal with. You got along better with Sherlock than with Mycroft. He loved you and he wasn’t even bad at showing it. Sometimes he just didn’t know when it wasn’t a good idea to make a deduction about his younger sister.

The loneliness sat on your chest like a huge elephant. Your heart knew pretty well what was wrong and what you had to do to make it stop. You had always had those rather depressing phases in your life and when you were younger there had always been a simple solution: run as fast as possible down the dark corridor in your parent’s house to get into Sherlock’s room and slip under his blanket to sleep cuddled up in his arms. But as the two of you got older he started to be away at night, getting himself drugged God knows where and you were left alone in his room, sleeping in his bed to at least be able to burry your nose in the familiar, calming smell. 

Now, you were in the same apartment as Sherlock again, having one of your depressing, angsty phases and the possibility to slip into Sherlock’s bed was given again. 

Keep reading
Sentiment - wearitcounts (Sher_locked_up) - Sherlock (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Sherlock (TV)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mycroft Holmes, the Holmeses
Additional Tags: post-tld, TFP what TFP, baby what baby, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, dancing to Marvin Gaye, childhood bedroom sex, Christmas, for some reason, Established Relationship, but only just really very newly so, ya feel me, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Laughter during Sex, Family, Love

What would it look like if they actually talked about who they really are, and who they want to be; what would their lives be like if after TLD, they simply let themselves finally finish falling in love.

continuing my string of bringing back little bits and pieces of things since deleted from ao3 for Reasons. made partially canon-compliant, as you can see from the tags. this one’s a bit sad, bit funny, bit weird. i miss them like this.

Okay, i’m late but i’m not sure if you guys noticed that if this is the reflection of both, John and Mycroft, Sherlock is looking at John.

I’m not talking about this being a MP or not, I leave that meta to other people. But please, if IT IS A MIRROR, you can see that his body is leaning toward John’s side

I know i’m trash drawing, but look at his shoulders. The left (our left) is not at the same level of the right shoulder. You can tell for his shirt too. And even his face is a little turned to John’s side. And Martin is closer to Sherlock than Mycroft. 

Here we go again. Keep in mind that i’m trash. 

So his right shoulder is closer to the camera, because he is a little bit turned to John’s side. They didn’t want it to be so obvious, because is a trailer, and Benedict don’t make this kind of mistakes.

Sorry for my english and I hope i made myself clear. 

Confused yet Attached; Moriarty x Reader

Requested by Anon: *shy wave* Hi. I’m just curious as to whether, someday, if you have time and are interested, whether you could write a little thing; a MoriartyxReader where his intention is to kill or use the reader as bait/leverage, but something or other happens and he finds himself becoming confused and attached to them instead. Nothing explicitly sexual, just a fluffy sort of thing. I’ve not been able to search your whole masterlist yet, so apologies if this has already been done. Thanks for considering. :)

Hope you enjoy it! I’m heading back to school today so requests are probably going to slow down a bit and especially so when the fall musical picks up so be aware of that when sending in requests!

Keep reading

Mrs Hudson Is Never Wrong. Sherlock x Watson!Reader

Summary: You, Johns sister, are moving into 221B Baker Street. When you arrive, Sherlock finds you a little puzzling and doesn’t like it one bit.
Warnings: mild swearing, fluff————————

“Sherlock!” John screamed as he came hurtling into the living room of 221B Baker Street after hearing multiple crashes and a gun shot. The doctors eyes skimmed the room, trying to assess the damage that had been done by his roommate; The table that usually held his laptop, notes and all of their case files was thrown onto its side. As for the chairs that hadn’t been so lucky: Johns chair was tossed at an awkward angle against the fireplace, it’s cushions discarded in numerous places around the room. The lovely black sofa that lined the wall had tears down one side, it’s yellowed stuffing coming out of the gaps. The only part of the living room that was unchanged was the black chair that faced onto the kitchen. In it sat the infamous Sherlock Holmes, wearing his usual blue pyjamas and robe, and a gun in his hand pointed at the opposite wall. He seemed to completely unaware of the chaos that was around him, the chaos caused.
“What the fuck are you doing, Sherlock?”

“BORED,” was his only response before he fired another two rounds into the wall.

“SHERLOCK!” John exclaimed. Already worried about the events that were to occur today, he quickly began to right the furniture and deal with the mess. “I can’t believe you. I tell you that my sister is coming today, the first day that she will be living her and what do you do? You go and blow thirty rounds into the wall!”
“When did you say your sister was coming?” Sherlock asked, ignoring the fact that John was tidying up and obviously in need of help.

“Oh for fu-” John sighed, pushing the table back into its original place. “I told you about twenty times today alone Sherlock. What do you think I was moving in a bed and furniture and boxes into the spare room on Friday? For fun?”

"You… You moved furniture in? Huh. I didn’t even notice.” John only muttered his reply, something along the lines of ‘of course you bloody didn’t’. John dealt with the devastation in front of him for about thirty minutes in silence, at which he had only just stared to deal with the mountain of paper and folders that was on the floor. Still not moving from his chair, Sherlock piped up again, “I didn’t think you liked your sister? Isn’t she an alcoholic? Why on earth would you want her to move in? You hate her.” John sighed.

"One, I don’t hate her. I just don’t agree with her choice of… Lifestyle. Two, she’s a recovering alcoholic. And Three. I have more than one sister. Which yet again I told you but as usual you were not listening.” He huffed, “My parents had three children. Harriet, Me, and Y/N. When I found out that she got a job at Scotland Yard, I said that she should move in with us until she gets on her feet here. I was being nice cos she’s my little sister and I wanna make sure she’s okay.” “I’m Mycrofts little brother and somehow I doubt that he will invite me to live with him,” Sherlock replied. “That’s because you two don’t exactly act like brothers. You act more like you two hate each other,” John scoffed, placing the last of the papers onto the table, scanning the room to see if Sherlock had caused any other devastations that John had failed to miss. Thankfully he hadn’t. “Me and Y/N were quite close actually. As kids, we were always the two doing things together. I was always there to beat up the bully’s and she was always there to convince the girls that I was a catch; me and her were the perfect team.” A smile crept across the doctors fine lips as he remembered all the times you had shared together. One memory came across the strongest.

"Y/n! John! Get down here now!” Your mother called, knowing that it was your fault, much like it always was. You and John had to try and suppress the laughter as you entered the kitchen where your fuming mother stood next to your eldest sister, who seemed to have misplaced half of her hair and added pink, sparkly hair dye to the other. It looked good with the goth faze she was in. “What have you done to Harry’s hair!?” “What mum,” you smiled innocently. “All the serious goths are shaving and dying their hair these days. It’s the thing.” “Yeah mum, she’ll be the coolest of all the freaks,” you and John could no longer contain your laughter. Your sisters hair and mothers scarlet face was all to much. “Both of you are grounded! Upstairs! Now,” you mum screamed. You and your brother ran back upstairs in fits of giggles only just hearing your mother taking to your sister saying, “Don’t worry Hun. If need be we can dye it black.” This was followed by a groan from your sister.

John was brought out of his memory by Mrs Hudson entering the room, bring with her a tray of her homemade biscuits and a large pot of tea. She placed it on the small coffee table and sat on the somewhat damaged sofa, not even bothering to pour herself a cup. John moved in for a biscuit before he was swatted away by his landlady.

"John Watson, don’t you dare touch those,” she squeaked. “They are for your sister when she gets here. Won’t be long, so you can wait.”

"Wait you knew too! How come everyone knew that Johns sister who isn’t the drunk one was coming apart from me?!” Sherlock exclaimed.

"Oh Sherlock,” Mrs Hudson groaned, putting her head in her hands. “You weren’t listening again were you,” she asked. “I told you the other day, after I met her. Obviously I knew Sherlock, it’s my house. Oh she is a lovely girl, truly lovely. Very kind, helpful oh and also very pretty, Sherlock.”

"Why is that important?”

"Yeah,” John said, “why is that important? He’s not going to date my sister.”

"I’m not saying he will,” she protested. “But, if any girl is going to take this mans heart it’s likely to be your sister. She is very like you, John, and obviously that seems to be what Sherlock wants.”

"We’re… I’m not ga-” John was cut off by a small voice from the door that caused all the eyes in the room to dart toward it.

"John? Is there something you need to tell me?” You giggled, hearing your brothers sudden declaration. “I always did think you’d turn out more like Harry than me. Just didn’t expect it to be in that sense.” John only rolled his eyes at you as he pulled you into a giant hug, smiling that you had finally turned up.

"Y/n! Glad you here,” he grinned. “Take it you got the keys I posted to you then?”

"No, I climbed in through the window of this three story building John. Yes I got the key.”

“Right, stupid question,” he joked. Before he could ask you anymore questions, Mrs Hudson had pulled you into another big hug, obviously as happy as John was that you had turned up.

"Oh it’s so good to see you, Y/n!”

"You too, Mrs Hudson.”

” Have you met Sherlock yet love?”

“No, she hasn’t.” Sherlock replied for you, making his way over to you. His eyes wandered up and down you, not in a perverted way just in a way as if he was trying to work you out. Every detail of you was captured in his blue hues and yet for some reason, Sherlock couldn’t read you. He tried, and tried, and tried but for some reason all he saw was a girl, wearing a dark dress that swayed above the knees and a smile knitted cardigan. Nothing else. Just a person. No deep secrets, or tells of your journey. Just you. Realising he had been standing in front of you for quite sometime, he extended his hand to you, “Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes.” You took his hand, giving it a light shake before pulling away.

"Y/n, Y/n Watson.” You replied, mimicking the monotone voice that he had addressed you in. Both of you just looked at each other, waiting for the other to say something, do something. This lasted until your bother coughed and ushered you onto the sofa. Sherlock and Mrs Hudson followed suit, Sherlock sitting back in his chair, Mrs Hudson joining you on the coach. John stood and poured you all a cup of tea, handing them round. Mrs Hudson, quite proudly, offered you one of her home made biscuits which you took gladly. After taking a bite you complimented her on her baking skills, to which she smiled greatly at, even blushing a little. For the next few hours you all chatted, about anything and everything you could. Well all of you except for Sherlock who just sat back, watching you and everything you did. Sherlock never had a problem reading people, but for some reason the more he tried to deduce you the more questions he was met with,

<i>What does she do? Is she with someone? Why is she really here? Confident? Who is she?</i>

"Do you want another tea,” Johns voice drew Sherlock from his place of questioning.

"No thank you,” you replied, gathering your belongings. “I’m rather tired,”

<i>is she? She looks well rested to me. Actually she looks rather… Pretty… to me</i>Sherlock thought.

"I’m gonna head to bed,” you hugged Mrs Hudson, thanking her for the biscuits and the room, gave a big hug to John along with a small peck on the cheek and turned to Sherlock. “Night, Sherlock.” And with that you were gone, the only remains of you was the small pitter patter of your feet climbing the stairs to your new room. Mrs Hudson left not long after, leaving Sherlock and John alone.

"Thank you,” John smiled as he cleared away to cups from the evening.
"For what?” Sherlock replied, walking toward where the doctor stood cleaning mugs.

"I didn’t do anything.”

"Exactly,” John laughed. "You didn’t do anything. You didn’t do your usual of deducing and pissing off my sister.”

"I would of if I could.”


"N-nothing. Forget I said anything.”

"You can’t read my sister can you?” Sherlock didn’t even bother replying just stomped off into his room, slamming the door behind him. A smile grazed Johns lips as he too headed to bed, mumbling to himshelf, ‘maybe Mrs Hudson was right.’

anonymous asked:

Valentines Day: Sherlock doesn't know which flower is John's favorite so he buys him an entire flower shops inventory just in case and their living room is full of flowers and John tears up

John coming into the flat and Sherlock’s standing in the middle of all these flowers looking a bit shy but mostly happy and absolutely adorable and he smiles out a little “Happy Valentine’s Day, John,” and John can’t even speak because no one’s ever even bought him flowers before, let alone loved him like this <333333


“Where have you been?”

You stiffened a moment before straightening, not bothering to try sneaking past Sherlock. You didn’t know why you still tried to get past him whenever you came back from your trips with the Doctor. It was just second nature now, considering you had never told Sherlock or John about your little adventures. Of course, Sherlock suspected something was up, though he couldn’t quite seem to put his finger on it, something that secretly pleased you quite a bit.

Sherlock cast a sideways glance in your direction from his spot on the couch, “Who is he? A friend? An enemy? Oh, which one?” he asked suddenly, gauging your reaction.

You wrinkled your nose, “None of your business.”
At this, Sherlock sat up, his eyes slightly narrowed, “You live with us, of course it’s my business.”

You rolled your eyes, resting your hands on your hips, “Some things are meant to be private, Sherlock. You’ll just have to accept that.” With that, you hefted your backpack and strode as purposefully as you could to your room, holding your head high. Sherlock watched you go. Now he was determined to figure out where you kept disappearing off to.

*not my gifs
Congratulations, Mr. Holmes, it's a Ghost! - EventHorizon - Sherlock (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 5/?
Fandom: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Characters: Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mrs. Hudson
Additional Tags: Ghosts, Greg had a bit of an problem a few centuries ago, but it hasn’t hurt his eye for handsome Holmes men

A punishing storm strands Mycroft in a remote inn where the residents are friendly, helpful, but not necessarily among the living. The one specifically not among the living takes a special interest in their guest and isn’t shy about making that fact known…

A little self-reflection on Mycroft’s part and a bit more of Greg’s story…

New Johniarty fanfic

Hey Everyone!

Johniarty is a ship that usually has a lot of dark fanfics, and while they are all absolutely brilliant, sometimes my Johniarty soul just wants a little fluff, hilarity, and sweetness with a dash of sass to make it feel a bit better.  Thus, I have started writing a fic on AO3 called Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and if there are any other Johniarty fans that want a bit of fluff, crime, and crack in their lives, I encourage you to check it out :) This is my first fanfic, so I hope you all enjoy it!

What if the entire show is actually from Mycroft’s memory?

After Sherlock is killed in the final confrontation with Professor Moriarty (Jim’s brother), Mycroft steps down from his government job and moves into the country near his parents, living a solitary life, blaming himself. When he is older, John and Mary’s grown daughter seeks him out and asks to hear the stories of Sherlock Holmes.

The final scene is the Watson daughter laying her hand over his.

She smiles softly and says, ‘They never blamed you.’

For the first time in twenty-five years, Mycroft manages a small smile and the burden on his heart is eased just a little bit.

And as the Watson daughter walks out to her car, she hears music coming from the house and smiles. Through the window, we can see Mycroft playing Sherlock’s violin with a sad smile on his face.

The end.

Johnlock theory - Angelo's / A Study in Pink

Forgive me if this has already been done, but on the back of the people = John theory, I was thinking of the Angelo’s scene earlier, this bit in particular:

Sherlock: What do real people have, then, in their real lives?

John: Friends? People they know, people they like, people they don’t like… Girlfriends, boyfriends…

Could this little paragraph of speech have predicted the entire Johnlock storyline from start to finish, albeit in a very basic way?

“Friends” = Mike Stamford, who as we all know makes an excellent Cupid, and is a mutual friend/acquaintance of John and Sherlock.

“People they know” = Season one. John gets to know Sherlock.

“People they like” = Season two. They’re established as good friends and it’s clear that they’re invested in each other.

“People they don’t like” = Season two and three - Sherlock dies and then comes back, and John has a hard time processing the grief, reacting in anger, mostly. (Also possibly Mary is someone John could not like because of the whole lying/shooting his best friend thing. And also that could be Sherlock, when he is being an arse in general?)

“Girlfriends” = Season three and onwards - Mary. Okay, so she’s his wife, but this to me is establishing the fact that John will have/has had relationships with other women by summing it up with one word.

“Boyfriends” = What we’ve all been waiting for.

We were told, and we didn’t listen!

I’m probably reading into this way too much, or completely incorrectly, but… just putting it out there!

a hopelessly childish argue between the holmes boys, in 221B with John, James and Greg all there and face palming pretty pretty pleaseeeee??? (handing you internet pansies lovely human you two) – embracethebond


John liked Bond. A very normal chap, overall, which was a little surprising given the stories John had heard; he surmised that Bond was an exceptionally good actor, and left it at that. It wouldn’t be too surprising, the man lied for a living.

“… and you always used to leave fingers in the fridge…”

The Holmes brothers were bickering about what to do for their mother’s birthday. The entire affair had degenerated into bitching and random insults, all three of them de-aging about twenty years apiece.

“… I elected to turn up in person for her last birthday…”

Perfect unison: “Fuck off, Mycroft.”

Greg sighed slightly, making John snort a bit. Bond just shook his head very slightly. “I’m taking it they’re always like this?” he asked lightly; in response, Greg and John laughed in perfect unison.

“Like nothing you could believe,” John told him. “Last time, things got thrown, I think Mycroft had to leave because of a call though…”

“… he did, it was my call, and he was grumpy all damn day…”

“… and so they were interrupted,” John completed, hoping very hard that nobody broke anything. Q was a lethal little bugger when he wanted to be. “But this could last for hours, depends on how stubborn they’re feeling.”

Bond rolled his eyes. “Q does have a tendency.”

“It’s a Holmes trait,” Greg supplemented, as his partner made some wry comment he didn’t quite hear properly that made Sherlock snarl viciously.

John glanced up at the snarl, vaguely curious. “This level of shouting is fairly unusual, usually Sherlock passive-aggressively plays the violin at them…”

I heard that.”

John winced. Bond and Greg shot him twin looks of sympathy. “This is your first time with all three, isn’t it?” Greg confirmed; Bond nodded, as Q unleashed a cascade of imaginative swear words. Greg and Bond blinked. “That’s a little more graphic than usual,” Greg conceded.

“Yes, Q swears imaginatively and frequently,” Bond commented drily; from next door, he heard an echo of Sherlock’s previous statement. Bond rolled his eyes. Q would doubtless tell him off later. “Sorry,” he called next door.

“See? Bond is not good for you,” Mycroft hissed, just loud enough to be audible.

Greg held up a hand to stop Bond stalking in. “I really wouldn’t, he’s baiting to make Q go on the defensive, he doesn’t mean it.”

“Gregory, that is enough.”

“… and that makes a full house,” John commented, and took an almost desperate slug of tea. “God I need a drink. Pub?”

“Oh please yes,” Greg nodded eagerly. “James?”

Bond hesitated.

And I’m fucked if the pair of you are going to fucking criticize me…

“Yep,” he said quickly, and followed them out the back door, leaving the brothers to kill each other in peace.