and sherlock figured that out and did the same

This is an additional post to my Eurus shot John and TFP is his imagination while dying / John is the girl on the plane theory, so please consider this while reading this post, thanks. :)

This whole post will be a bit random because I have so much thoughts about this. I hope you don’t mind.

At the end of TLD, we see how Sherlock finds the “Miss Me?” on the paper. And that’s usually the moment where Sherlock drops all his shit (he did so in HLV with his chips) and RUNS to save John. But we didn’t see that. Weird, huh?

Also, we get a bit of John’s imagination/foreshadowing in TLD:

And in TFP, the girl on the plane (= John) says this:

“The lights” are very common when it comes to near-death experiences. Walking towards light, a tunnel with light at the end and closer coming lights.

Okay, that was that. So, let’s talk about TAB: There are things in TAB they included on purpose to make us think “That’s fucky!” in order to figure it out. An guess what? THE SAME SHIT APPEARS IN TFP.

First of all: Cringeworthy spinning shots.

Also:

Eurus = Emelia Ricoletti

Both of them look as if they were taken out of a horror movie. AND THEY BOTH SING A FUCKING SONG!

And Remember Me = Do Not Forget Me

Same with the graveyard scene in TAB … THAT SCENE WAS FAKE because the corpse came to life at the end.

An guess what else is fake and has fake graves …

And let’s not forget fat Mycroft:

Aaand back to TFP, where Sherlock says “Greg”:

When you watch the scene, you’ll first be like: “Oh, that’s nice, Sherlock finally got Lestrade’s name right!” But the thing is … THEY TOLD US THAT SHERLOCK NEVER GETS HIS NAME RIGHT JUST TWO EPISODE EARLIER. John had to MOUTH “Greg” to Sherlock so he could say it right:

So why the flying fuck would he suddenly remember his name? Weird AF? Yes, it’s John imagination. Because HE never gets Lestrade’s name wrong, that’s why!

Also, when I first saw the scene where they are at John’s, I had the feeling that Sherlock … looked so out of place? He’s standing in the room and has his coat on.

And then I thought … FUCK, I know this scene, it looks like the scene in “Many Happy Returns”!

This scenes too (first one from TFP, the other from MHR):

These too:

And when Mary (aka John’s imagination) said this:

I knew I heard it before … it’s on John’s fucking blog, he wrote it when he met Sherlock for the first time:

Oh, and I mentioned earlier what people see while having a near-death experience … it’s not just light, on of the things is also FAMILY.

And you know what else is fucky? This quote from “Mary” at the of TFP …

Well, the thing is … SHE CAN’T KNOW THIS QUOTE. We do, and Sherlock and John, but Mary can’t. Well, she could have made it up, BUT (!!!) John said it to Sherlock in TEH:

Mary wasn’t in that scene. Sherlock said something like that at the wedding, but it’s not the same:

Also, in her speech at the end of TFP, we see this shot from ASiP:

Well … nothing weird about that, right? Except for the fact that THIS is the first scene they used in TAB! If you don’t believe me, go and watch it.

And this:

Actually, there is more I could write about, but some things have already been pointed out. That Eurus wore a John-sweater as a kid or that John responded to Sherlock instead of the child on the plane.

So. If there is no fourth episode, then at least we know that the fandom is a million times cleverer than Mofftiss. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Requested by thestrawberryblondehobbitbatch:  Sherlock x reader. Jim kipnaps Sherlocks wife. He finds you weeks later. Weak from lack of food and water. Once at the hospital the doctor finds ‘Did You Miss Me?’ Cut into her back

(gif note mine but writing is)

Where is she?

“Where is she?” Sherlock shouts as he worryingly paces around 221B Baker Street. John stood nervously watching. On the table Sherlock’s laptop was open. He was currently having a group video chat with his brother Mycroft Holmes who works in the British government and Greg Lestrade, inspector at Scotland Yard.

“Where is (Y/N)?” Sherlock yells whilst picking up a book and throwing it across the room. The book had knocked some items off of the mantelpiece. Sherlock walked over to them and picks up a shiny rectangle. It was a photograph of Sherlock in a black suit hugging you in your white wedding dress. The happiest day in both of your lives. Gazing at it lovingly, Sherlock gently strokes the frame before putting it back ontop of the mantlepiece.

“We have our best people on it.” said Greg.
“The case is our top priority.” added Mycroft. Angrily Sherlock slams down his laptop lid, ending the chat. “Idiots” he mumbled as he walked back over to the photograph.
“They’re trying their best.” John says, trying to reassure him.
“I need her John… I. Need. Her.” Sherlock pleas as he starts to stroke your face in the picture.

You had been missing for a week now. It was so simple, you went to the shop but never returned home. There were no leads, your mobile was uncontactable, you had completely vanished. No contact from you or your captor. Sherlock had no idea who had abducted you and it was tearing him apart. You were his other half, a half that he didnt knew he needed before. He often described you as more powerful than any drug and more interesting than any case.
Permanently glued to his chair, he barely ate or slept. Only having the minimum amount, so he was always ready if he heard any news. John and Mrs Hudson took it in turns to watch over him.

John had walked into the room after making some toast. Sherlock was still in his chair, one of your dressing gowns draped over him. Placing a slice of toast next to Sherlock, John sat in his chair. Sherlock nuzzled the dressing gown whilst he was twisting his wedding ring around his finger. From what John could tell, Sherlock was in his mind palace.
Suddenly Sherlock’s mobile phone vibrated on the table, making him jump. The screen illuminated with the words ‘1 new message from unknown number’. “Finally” Sherlock mumbled as he grabbed the phone. He hesitated before opening the message, mentally preparing himself for what it might be.

Sherlock’s eyes widened in shock. It was a photograph showing your face and neck. Tears streaming down your face. Your watery eyes were framed by black rings of fatigue under them. You were clearly in distress. Bruises made from fingertips were on your neck, suggesting that a restraining hand had previously been there. A man’s lips were kissing your neck. Unfortunately the photograph only showed the very edge of them, making their owner difficult to discover. Under the photograph was a caption which read 'Thank you for the gift Sherlock. She is too delicious to resist!’

Tears filled Sherlock’s eyes as he stared at the image. “She looks different.” he whispered. John walked over to look at the message. Placing a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder he said “It could just be the camera angle.”
Sherlock’s eyes interrogated the photograph. “No, that’s not it. Something is wrong with her face. It’s… It’s thinner.” he said trying to keep his voice steady and attempting to suppress his quickly growing anger.

For the next week Sherlock frantically ran around London, trying to figure out your location. He took his mobile to Lestrade in an attempt to track the number that sent the message. Sherlock knew that it would not work but he had to try anyway. Using the photograph he analysed the background but there was too little information to go on. He was running around in circles and he knew it. Despite his desperate efforts, you were unobtainable. Slowly, it was breaking him.

Sherlock laid on the sofa in 221B. John had tried his best to keep him positive but it had been weeks now. All Sherlock would say is “How can I be a consulting detective if I can’t even find my wife… I miss her so much.”
Sherlock’s mobile buzzed with another new message from an unknown number. He turned around and sat up on the sofa. His eyes filled with tears, he had been silently crying again.

The message was another photograph. It was of your hand being held by a man’s hand. He could spot your hand instantly especially because of your engagement and wedding rings. The man’s hand looked strangely familiar but Sherlock could not think of whose it was at that moment. A caption read 'I think we have really bonded’ this was then followed by a list of numbers.

John sat next to him on the sofa, looking over his shoulder at the message. Mrs Hudson also stared in from the kitchen as she made cups of tea for the three of them. “Coordinates” Sherlock said whilst looking at the numbers. Suddenly something happened that Sherlock did not expect. His phone rang. His mobile illuminated with 'unknown number calling’
With a trembling hand he answered it and put it on speaker phone. His eyes widened as he heard the sound of your voice.

“Hello my love. He knows that you have figured out the numbers.” your voice was shakey and weak. “Sherlock, he says that he is going to leave you a message… What is that? Why do you have that? No please, no!” you let out a blood curdiling scream. John could see Sherlock’s heart breaking. He was in agony.

Almost instantly Sherlock stood up. “We. Go. Now!” Sherlock growled as he put on his coat and taking a bag from the side. John hurriedly did the same as they both ran out the door and hailed a cab.

Following the coordinates, the taxi pulled up outside an abandoned office building. As they stepped in they could see long corridors filled with offices, all of them looking identical. John had the bag on his back and a gun in his hand. “Look at the walls. I should have known it would have been here.” Sherlock said.
“We couldn’t have gotten here any sooner.” John reassuringly replied.
In one of the offices at the other side of the corridor. Sherlock could see a figure slumped on the floor.

“Sher…lock” you said though your voice was no louder that a whisper. Slowly lifting your head, a smile spread across your face as you saw your husband. You would be crying with joy if you weren’t so dehydrated. Sherlock ran towards you and knelt down besides you. He gently hugged you and planted kisses all over your face before tenderly kissing your lips. It was as if you both couldn’t quite believe that you were finally reunited. Both of you were completely overwhelmed.
Looking at your dramatically thinner body, John rang for an ambulance.

Reaching into the bag and pulling out a bottle, Sherlock pours some water into your mouth. It was what you had been craving for weeks. You welcomed the feeling as a drop slipped out of your mouth, washing over your dry lips. John kept guard in case your captor was still around as Sherlock placed a cube of chocolate on your tongue. “I’ve missed you so much.” you whispered as Sherlock stroked your cheek.
“Are you talking about me or the chocolate?” Sherlock said which made you giggle. He savoured the sound of you laughter as a happy tear ran down his cheek.

Holding your hands he helped you as you shakily stood up. Your black form hugging dress now looked baggy as it hung off of your body. You started to walk but your legs buckled. You would have fallen on to the floor but Sherlock had caught you by placing a supportive hand on your back. This made you whimper in pain.
You shook your head. You felt like you didn’t want to be touched, especially there. Thoughts of you captor filled your mind and you shuddered in fear.

Without warning Sherlock scoops you up and starts to carry you. He was slightly alarmed by how much lighter you felt in his arms. You could start to hear sirens in the distance. Laying your head against Sherlock’s chest, you closed your eyes as you listened to the relaxing sound of his steady heartbeat.

You woke up in a white hospital bed. Sherlock was sat on a chair next to you holding your hand. His eyes staring at you. A smile crept onto his face as he watched your eyes open. He stood up and leaned over you, gently placing a kiss in your forehead before sitting back down again. You mouthed the words 'I love you’ which made his smile bigger.

You looked around the room. “John’s working on a few of the leads I have. Your captor seemed familiar but I just can’t quite put my finger on who it is yet.” Sherlock said with disappointment in his eyes.

“I see that I have come in at the right time.” said a doctor as he walked into the room. “(Y/N) as you know you are severely dehydrated and malnourished. I have given you some quick working syrups to help build your strength up. As long as you rest for the next few weeks, you will feel better in no time. You have also lost a lot of blood. I found something very strange when I examined you - ”
You cut him off as Sherlock looked at you with a confused expression.
“Please can I tell him… In private?” you ask with a look of shame on your face. The doctor nodded as he left the room.

“Sherlock…” your words trailed off as tears filled your eyes.
“What is it?” Sherlock asked lovingly as his hands cupped your face.
“You know how you said that my captor seemed familiar to you. Firstly, you know him. Sherlock it’s difficult. I hate him, you hate him. I can’t even say his name. The message he said that he was going to leave you… Well…” you say shakily.

Getting up and out of the bed, you stood in front of Sherlock. Turning around so you now faced the wall, you pulled your hospital gown up. Sherlock’s heart sank as his fists clenched in anger.

Carved deeply into your back were the words 'Did You Miss Me?’

“Moriarty” Sherlock growled through gritted teeth.

Worried - Part 3 - Request

Originally requested by anon:  can you do one where Sherlock comes home from a long case which he finally solved but is beaten up and and bruised and he doesn’t understand why is reader is so worried because Sherlock + human emotions = ?
Winner of Sequel Friday #2

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Word count: 2,690

Warnings: None, I think.

A/N: I know I said I would add a bit of smut, but I couldn’t find a way of doing so because it would be too rushed. Sorry! Maybe, if you want a third part I will focus on that.

Enjoy!

To say that her behaviour changed after Sherlock’s strange confession would be a lie. (Y/N) was still the same professional, friendly, caring girl Sherlock had fallen for within an instant.

She had made sure to take good care of him, and so his bruises were healing and his limping was almost gone. Sherlock was afraid that her interest would be soon lost without his wounds and so he would try his best to get rid of the ice and heat packs whenever she wasn’t looking, or faked to drink the medicine just so it would last a bit more.

“I don’t know, John.” (Y/N) sighed to the phone, “He was fine and now he… He sunk.” She stood silent for a while, and Sherlock observed her from a slight creek on the door. “Yes! I’ve done everything; the bruises are still there… I’m getting worried, John, what if it’s something else?” Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Fine… All right, thank you… Bye.” She hung up, and Sherlock rushed back to the bed before she saw him.

“How’s John?” He asked innocently as she entered the room.

“He’s good. Mary and he are taking the baby to the park for a while and then they will come over.” She replied softly.

She looked bad. Her eye-bags were pretty big by then and her hair was messy, her usually pink lips were pale and her whole complexion seemed to have changed. She looked skinny, and sad.

“Why are you still worried?” He inquired tiredly, “I’m good now.”

“You’re not.” She stated, staying at the door. “The bruises are still there without a single change… It’s like you haven’t been on treatment or something.”

Sherlock hesitated to speak. He knew it was his fault, his own envious fault, wanting to stay ill just for the sake of having her focused only on him. Sherlock knew he had to tell her the truth, he felt bad when seeing her like that, but what if she lost interest?

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hey Steph! Can you explain to me the whole amo=love instead of ammunition concept? I see it around a lot, but don't remember it being referenced in Sherlock? Is it just something this fandom made up? Thanks :) have a good day!

Hi Nonny!

Certainly! 

Mary gives us what she thought it meant here:

SHERLOCK: Who employed you?
MARY: Anyone who paid well. I mean, we were at the top of our game for years, and then it all ended. There was a coup in Georgia. The British embassy in Tbilisi was taken over; lots of hostages. We got the call to go in, get them out. There was a change of plan, a last-minute adjustment.
SHERLOCK: Who from?
MARY: I don’t know. Just another voice on the phone, and a code word, “Ammo.”
SHERLOCK: “Ammo”?
MARY: Like ‘ammunition.’

Ajay explains how he was tortured with it:

SHERLOCK (calmly, quietly): What did you hear, Ajay? When you were a prisoner, what exactly did you hear?
(John glances across to him as he speaks then looks back towards Ajay and blows out a quiet breath.)
AJAY: What did I hear?
(He opens his mouth to form a word but hesitates for a moment before he manages to say it.)
AJAY: Ammo. Every day as they tore into me. Ammo. Ammo. 

Then Sherlock figures out “ammo”in this exchange here:

SHERLOCK (over phone): The English woman. That’s all he heard. Naturally he assumed it was Mary.
MYCROFT: Couldn’t this wait until you’re back?
SHERLOCK (still in the same room in Morocco, although it seems that Ajay’s body has been removed): No, it’s not over. Ajay said that they’d been betrayed. The hostage takers knew AGRA were coming. There was only a voice on the phone, remember, and a code word.
MYCROFT: Ammo, yes, you said.
SHERLOCK: How’s your Latin, brother dear?
MYCROFT (frowning): My Latin?
SHERLOCK: Amo, amas, amat.
MYCROFT (still frowning as he translates the Latin words): I love, you love, he loves. What …?
(He stops. Apparently he’s got it.)
SHERLOCK: Not ‘ammo’ as in ‘ammunition’ but ‘amo,’ meaning …?
(Mycroft raises an eyebrow then starts to straighten up, his face stern.)
MYCROFT: You’d better be right, Sherlock.
(He hangs up. Sherlock does likewise, and the Holmes brothers start to move away.)

And then followed up here:

LADY SMALLWOOD: This is absolutely ridiculous and you know it. How many more times?
MYCROFT: Six years ago you held the brief for foreign operations, code name “Love.”
LADY SMALLWOOD: And you’re basing all this on a code name? On a whispered voice on the telephone? Come on, Mycroft.
MYCROFT: You were the conduit for AGRA. Every assignment, every detail, they got from you.
LADY SMALLWOOD: It was my job.
MYCROFT (unfolding his hands and sitting back): Then there was the Tbilisi incident. AGRA went in.
LADY SMALLWOOD: Yes.
MYCROFT: And they were betrayed.
LADY SMALLWOOD (firmly): Not by me.
(Mycroft just looks at her. She takes in a breath and sighs it out.)
LADY SMALLWOOD: Mycroft, we’ve known each other a long time. I promise you, I haven’t the foggiest idea what all this is about. You wound up AGRA and all the other freelancers. (Slowly, emphatically) I haven’t done any of the things you’re accusing me of. Not one. (Even more emphatically) Not. One.

(X)


So essentially, Mary assumed it was just a codeword for guns, and Sherlock thinks it has to do with Lady Smallwood, whose code name is Love.

Now that I’m re-reading and examining this scene though… They never actually are referring to the PERSON “Amo” are they? EVERYONE keeps saying “the English woman AND a codeword”. IF Lady Smallwood was directly being referenced, why are they NOT saying “The woman ‘Amo’”, or… Love. Why use an obscure Latin word rather than call her what they think the codeword was? 

And what’s even more curious, as I reread the text above… they NEVER SAY IF THE VOICE AND THE ENGLISH WOMAN ARE ONE IN THE SAME. I even went back a bit to clarify the second exchange:

AJAY (savagely): We were betrayed!
SHERLOCK: And they said it was her?
AJAY (to Mary): You betrayed us!
SHERLOCK (firmly): They said her name?
AJAY: Yeah, they said it was the English woman.

“They” is referring to Ajay’s CAPTORS, and THEY’RE the ones saying they were looking for an English Woman; NOT necessarily the person who was on the phone. 

THE PERSON ON THE PHONE IS LEFT DELIBERATELY AMBIGUOUS. THE ENTIRE EPISODE.

AND it’s that last bolded bit by Lady Smallwood that has me interested indeed. She has NO idea what Mycroft is talking about. And following the convo, Mycroft looks guiltily down to the table and then to the one way mirror, PROBABLY silently hoping his brother hasn’t figured out the inconsistency here.

So. This has me thinking that Mycroft WAS and IS indeed involved with AGRA / Mary, MYCROFT was the soft voice on the phone (which then could tie back to TGG and the soft voices directing people to Moriarty) and AMMO is indeed the codeword, not Amo. “Amo” is literally Sherlock having Love on the brain… this is the connections he is making, and it just HAPPENED that Smallwood has the codename “Love”.

What’s bothering me about the whole Ammo thing is that they SPECIFICALLY keep saying Ammo SEPARATE from the person they are looking for, and that makes NO SENSE if they are looking for a person. Why Latin? MARY is the one bringing up “ammo” in the first place. I think she definitely betrayed her team, and knows EXACTLY what AMMO is. It’s NOT a person, it was her mission. 

Another thought, was it OMMA? There is a very brief scene where OMMA is shown on screen as well. Could this or AMMO be another acronym like AGRA?

These are all things to think about, and I’ve probably confused you even more, Lovely. Sorry. D: I love when I’m freeform meta writing and come up with thoughts as I write replies to this stuff only to confuse the issues further.

Twenty Years - a Sherlolly Retirement!Lock fic

Well, Sherlolly, Warstan and Mythea hehe! Plus, Rosie Watson & Victor Holmes <3

a birthday gift to my lovely friend, @sherlollian2016m! I hope you enjoy it, darlin!


Tucked away in the English countryside, stood a cozy cottage, the backyard containing a most beautiful garden, along with a couple of hives set up for beekeeping. Molly Holmes walked down the small garden path to find her husband checking up on the beehives. It was a lovely spring day; not too hot, not too cool. He turned to flash her one of his eye-crinkling smiles. Her heart still hammered in her chest at the sight of him, even after all these years.

“Hey you,” she smiled as he pulled her in for a warm embrace.

“Hello,” he murmured into her hair. It looked like a mix of cinnamon, salt and pepper. Sherlock’s own onyx curls were sprinkled with grey here and there. “How is it that you look more beautiful every day?” Molly stood on her toes to press her lips to his tenderly.

“The same way that you look more handsome each day,” Molly replied, her nose rubbing against his.

“Mm, I love you,” Sherlock spoke softly. “Twenty years. How have you managed twenty years of marriage to me?”

“To be fair, I’ve managed you for thirty years in total,” Molly giggled. “As to how? Because I love you so much, Sherlock. Plus, the shagging is good.” They laughed together. Today was their twenty year wedding anniversary and soon their family would arrive to celebrate with them. They completely disregarded the sound of car doors as they continued to snog each other senselessly. Outwardly, they had aged but inwardly, they were still young at heart.

“Look at you two, still going for it like a couple of teenagers,” John Watson laughed with Mary after finding them in the garden. Victor Hamish Holmes, followed after with his hand laced with Rosie Watson’s, now Holmes.

“Hi,” Molly beamed, giving everyone hugs. Sherlock hugged his best friend, then Mary and his son and daughter-in-law.

“Ugh, sentiment,” a familiar voice called out.

Keep reading

Sherlolly Appreciation Week Day 2: First Date

Okay, day two… this one’s rated G. Gonna gift it to @battledress because she asked me for a fic a couple of days ago. Here you go, honey-bunny. Hope you like it. Thanks to @mizjoely for betaing, as usual… she’s amazing! Enjoy ~Lil~


-So, First Date, Was It?-

He was nervous about dinner, he could admit that much (at least to himself). But this wasn’t just any dinner, it was his first real date with Molly Hooper. Date, his mind scoffed. Yes, date. Now shut up! He had, of course, done his research about what woman expected from a suitor on a first date, then promptly tossed most of it out the window. Molly wasn’t like other woman. Besides, they’d known each other for nearly eight years, for God’s sake!

The table was set near the windows, and yes, there was a candle. He’d forgone the flowers, however. Giving a woman flowers was a blatant manipulation and he absolutely finished with manipulating Molly Hooper. It had taken almost two days to make the flat presentable (with a great deal of help from Mrs. Hudson). How it had gotten in such bad shape after the repairs, he had no idea. The meal, linguine with clam sauce, was nearly ready. The wine was chilling and the music was softly playing in the background.

He sighed. Nervous indeed. His only comfort was that Molly would definitely be more nervous than him. That thought relaxed him for a moment as he checked on the sauce once again.

Hearing voices, he realised that time had gotten away from him and that his Molly had arrived and was speaking with Mrs. Hudson. He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of a kitchen chair, putting it on as he walked to the sitting room. Counting her soft footfalls on the stairs, he opened the door just at she arrived on the landing.

“That’s good timing,” she said, smiling, those adorable dimples beckoning him to kiss them.

It wasn’t the right time, though, or placement for that matter. No, no cheek kisses tonight. He had plans for both of their lips…later. He also had upwards of twenty-two ideas of how this date could end (each one more pleasing than the next).

“Evening, Molly. You look…” His eyes took her in: work shoes, khaki trousers, striped button up shirt, chunky sweater, her hair in a haphazard bun atop her head. She looked magnificent. “…lovely.”

“Don’t be glib, Sherlock. I got stuck doing a last minute autopsy and didn’t get a chance to change,” she said as she walked past him, tossing her handbag onto the sofa. “Mmm, something smells good.”

“Linguine with clam sauce,” he explained as he shut the door.

“From Angelo’s?” she asked excitedly.

“Ah, no actually…”

“It doesn’t matter,” she interrupted. “It’s my favourite. I’m sure I’ll love it no matter where you got it from.”

Deciding to wait until she tasted it to take credit (just in case she hated it), he directed her to the table and pulled out a chair. “Please, have a seat.”

“You’re quite the gentleman this evening.”

“I’ll just, ah, go get the wine.” He walked away with a confused look on his face. She wasn’t at all nervous. Which made him feel very conflicted. On the one hand, he was glad that she was so relaxed in his presence, but… it’s our first date, damnit! She should at least be a little nervous!

It wasn’t any better when he returned. She thanked him for the wine then made a horrible joke about cirrhosis of the liver.

Once they started eating, things got even stranger, or rather not strange at all. It was just like every other meal they’d ever shared.

“So I told him the same thing I told you about three years ago, once I grew a pair and stopped letting you run roughshod over me,” she explained before taking another bite.

“You said, ‘Sherlock Holmes, you might be a good looking bastard, but you’re still a bastard and I’m not your house elf’? I never did figure out what a house elf was, by the way.”

“No, you dolt! The other part. I told him to clean up his own mess or I’d leave it sit there until the Second Coming.”

“Ah, religious humour. Funny.” He smiled. It wasn’t funny. But this was a date. One laughed at their date’s bad jokes whilst on a date, it was required (one of the small bits of advice he had kept as he filtered through all the nonsense).

Molly shook her head and laughed. “Sort of. Where did you get this, it’s excellent,” she said, pointing to her plate with her fork.

“I made it, Molly.”

“No, really.”

“Of course I made it. Is that so unbelievable? I am a graduate chemist. Cooking isn’t difficult, just monotonous.”

“I believe that you’re capable, Sherlock. I seriously doubt that there’s anything you couldn’t do if you set your mind to it. My problem is that you never do anything yourself if you can get someone else to do it for you.”

Where had she learned to compliment him and insult him in the same breath? You! She learned it by watching you, moron! “Well, tonight is… “ He froze, looking into her big brown eyes, all thought evaporated and he was left gaping. After several agonising seconds he managed, “You like it though?”

Molly nodded slowly then went back to eating. Thank God!

The meal ended and Sherlock took the dishes to the kitchen, something which seemed to surprise Molly even more than his cooking. He had told her to have a seat on the sofa and that he’d return with dessert.

Her eyes followed him as he walked in holding two bowls of ice cream. When he handed one to her she let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh thank goodness. I was afraid you’d made a tart or something. You’re starting to freak me out, Sherlock.” She dug into the double chocolate chip with a smile.

Though her behaviour was not what he had expected, he was relieved that she was enjoying herself.

When they finished their ice cream Molly leaned back and rubbed her belly. “Wonderful meal, Sherlock. I’m stuffed.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Sitting up, she reached for her bag. “I did. But I’ve had a shit day and I need a long bath.” She stood and started walking towards the door.

What? Sherlock followed. “Ah, well, thank you for… coming to dinner,” he said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice. Maybe I waited too long, he thought. Maybe there’s no actual spark left after all these years. Or maybe I’m just rubbish at dating when it’s an actual date, not pretending.

She stopped at the door and turned around. “What’s wrong?” she asked, putting a comforting hand on his forearm.

Oh, there’s the spark. “Nothing, Molly. I just had high expectations for this evening.”

Her lips quirked up. “High expectations? For what, dinner? We eat dinner all the time, Sherlock.” She suddenly look apologetic. “Did you want to do an experiment?”

And that’s when the penny dropped.

Well, this is unfortunate. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he said,  “Molly, this wasn’t just dinner. Think back to when I asked you to come over.”

She got a far off look in her eyes for a moment, then started looking around the room. He watched her look at the table, with the still lit candle. She looked toward the kitchen, then at his laptop, still quietly playing instrumental music.

Oh my God!” she whispered.

“Finally got it, did you?”

“This was a date! This was our first date!”

Sherlock just nodded.

Dropping her bag, she reached for him, grabbing his shoulders. “I’m so sorry. I really didn’t…”

“Yes, I see that now.”

“You cooked for me! The ice cream and music and the candle. Oh, Sherlock, the candle was a dead giveaway!” She moved closer. “I feel like an idiot.”

Reaching up, he cupped her face, tracing her dimples with his thumbs. “You’re not an idiot, Molly.”

“I’m sorry, Sherlock. What can I do to make this up to you?”

He smirked. “Well, my expectations did include a kiss.”

“Oh, of course,” she said with a sexy little smile. “All this trouble… it’s the least you deserve.” Pulling him closer, she stretched up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. “Does that meet your expectations?”

Grabbing her by the hips, he pulled her close. “It does. But it doesn’t make up for not realising that we were on an actual date.”

“Hmm,” Molly hummed, looking thoughtful as she threaded her fingers through his hair. “I assume you have some ideas about how we could salvage this evening?”

“Twenty-two to be exact,” he said before kissing her senseless.


Thanks for reading! ~Lil~

W.O.L.F - Sherlock x reader |Chapter Two|

Chapter list

Thank you guys so much for all the love on chapter one, you guys are awesome! stay sweet. 

Tuesday, 8:00 pm.

It’s been three days, and Sherlock was still puzzled over the letter on the wall and the reaction of Lestrade’s niece. He remained in his flat, pondering over things. The killer hasn’t showed, so so far, no new murders. He has his homeless network keeping an eye on Y/n’s whereabouts and who she’s come in contact with for the past few days. She’s connect to this, a big piece of the puzzle, but Sherlock just doesn’t know where she fits.
He was sitting in his arm chair, his phone in hand, waiting for a text. John was sitting in his chair with his laptop, trying to find details on Tyler Olson’s records.  So far what they know, He was American, and moved to England to attend Cambridge. And that’s mostly it, they’ve got in contact with his parents, and his ex wife to see if they knew anything about anyone who’d have the ambition to kill him, or a reason. But so far, dirt.
“Ah finally.” Sherlock says, looking to his phone as it buzzed.

Found her Mr. Holmes
She’s up in Lambeth

Sherlock jumps out of his chair with a new found excitement. Causing John to raise an eyebrow at him, “What?” he asks, watching his friend carefully, as he moves around the flat, a rare smile on his face. “Found something about the case?” Watson questions,  
“Yes,” Sherlock says absently, “I have someone to monitor, you stay here and find out what you can about Tyler.” Sherlock was already grabbing his coat and scarf saying this, nodding at John before slipping out of the flat. Hailing a cab once outside, he gets in and tells the cabbie address. It didn’t take long for Sherlock to reach his destination, he comes out the cab, immediately spotting the girl, in a restaurant on the street over.
She’s not dressed for a date, she was casually dressed. So, it’s quite possible she is meeting an old friend. Sherlock watches discreetly from the inside of a tea shop, as a woman approaches Lestrade’s niece. She had red hair, whom he has seen a few times on many crime scenes working with Sally, Sarah her name is.
Not much time later, the two exit the restaurant, and walks up the street. Sherlock following closely behind, managing to take a picture of them, and then his phone rings.
“Not now Lestrade. I’m busy.” he says, not taking his eyes of the girls. “We got another one.”

                       _______

9:00 pm

“Who was she?” Sherlock asks, walking into the flat of the victim, John who he texted a while ago trailed behind him. “Name was Kate Francis according to her ID. She just started teaching up at Cambridge.” Lestrade says, Sherlock stoops down to where the dark haired woman laid, she died the exact same way that Olson did, and there’s the letter. A large F was sprayed on the wall over her head, with a red line through it. Whoever’s doing this, they’re crossing people out. That much is clear. But what’s the connection between this woman and Tyler Olson?
“What subject was she to teach?” Sherlock asks, looking up at Lestrade briefly, “Is that important?”
“Yes.”
“Uh. The sciences I think.”
Sherlock hums thoughtfully, “Interesting.” he mutters.

When John and Sherlock get back to 221B, Sherlock immediately walks over to the wall where he had his leads pinned up. John looks at the pictures on the wall, “Is that Greg’s niece?” he asks, “Who?” Sherlock looks over his shoulder confused and John rolls his eyes, “Lestrade.”

“Oh.. yes." 

"You think she has something to do with the case. Is she the one you said you had to monitor?” Sherlock sighs, running a hand through his hair as he stares at her picture. He’s still trying to figure that part out, but even if he did. What’s the connection?
“Tyler Olson and Kate Francis both attended Cambridge. They both took the same science courses.”
“Yeah, so?” John questions from where he sat in his arm chair, looking at him quizzically. “There must be a connection.” the detective turns, and again heads out of the flat.
                      __________

  “Do you know what this means?” Sarah asks, walking next to Y/n, stopping her with her hand. And Y/n sighs heavily, “Yes I know what this means.” she says, closing her eyes for a second. “I don’t think you do. Y/n, two of our friends are dead. That means, one of us could be next. You’re on suspension right? Dig around.” She was walking her home, making sure she gets there safely and unharmed. To anyone else, the two of them have never met, the didn’t know each other, had no background whatsoever. And they have their reasons, but they are very close friends, top close.
“If you’re suggesting that I go see Holmes.”
“I’m just trying to save both our asses here.” the red head argues rolling her green eyes. The two girls stop outside Sarah’s house, Y/n didn’t want to leave her alone, but the girl can handle herself just fine, she is on the force. “You call me when you get home okay?” Sarah says, pulling her into a hug, Y/n nods, muttering, “If I get home.”
“It’s not funny.” Sarah says sounding irritated that her friend would make a joke out of this serious situation. “Who’s laughing?” Y/n shrugs, smiling at Sarah, after she promises to call, and making sure that Sarah got inside, she walks back the way she came. Since it’s late, she’d have to walk a bit before she can hail a cab. She has no problem walking in the dark, it’s just a bit unnerving when someone’s out to kill you. She was about to cross the street when a voice stops her, “Spare some change miss?” she turns and sees someone sitting on the floor, a homeless man covered by a tattered cloth. “Uh, yeah. Sure, let me just get it yeah?” she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the spare change she had, reaching down to put it into the can the man was holding out to her, she drops the money in, but he grabs her hand. Startled she tries to pull away, and the man gets up, “Well well, Mr Holmes. If you wanted my number, you could’ve asked.” Y/n says, smirking as Sherlock removes the cloth from around him, dropping it on the ground, “What are you doing up here in Lambeth?”
“Getting spare change. Obviously.” He shakes the can in her face, the change he’d collected over the hour dancing around in it.
“Why are you following me? I can have you arrested for stalking.” she says, smirking still and Sherlock raises an eyebrow. “I need answers.” He says, and Y/n blinks, her smirk dropping ever so slightly, “I’m afraid I can’t give them to you.” She says, pulling her hand from his, and he furrows his eyebrows. “And why not? You know what’s going on, I know you do. What’s it going to take for you to tell me?”
“You’re asking questions for answers I don’t want to give. You’re Sherlock Holmes, just solve the case.”

Tag list : @cutie1365 @dontstoptime @mrsdeanwinchester15 @fandomlover03 @morganschiebel @et2310

The Way We Are (An Adlock Fanfiction)

In the very rare times that he find himself waking, most of these moments have her scent lingering in the air. 

Sherlock rarely sleeps, as what people who most know him have come to be used to, and yet in memory, the very few times he does is always in requiem of The Woman. And it is so because in her company he can count some of his deepest slumbers, her warmth next to him almost effortless. 

His eyes adjusted to the faint light seeping through the windows, averting to see her peaceful face beside him. The blanket was nothing in comparison to how hot her skin felt against his, the memory of their reunion last night vivid in his memory. 

Staring at the ceiling with an unnerving thought fleeting in his mind, Sherlock started to question what everything meant. He never did, or never thought he would, but there’s something about the idea of being with her, now, that felt surreal. 

He refused to think this was solely to satisfy the tingling of the flesh, for everytime his lips touch hers, it felt foreign to the nothingness beneath those playful and pretentious kisses with Janine. 

“Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”

His own voice echoed in his mind, a certain agitation in its tone. For someone who often dismissed the presence of beauty, romance, sentiment, he found himself questioning the mere idea of allowing Irene to unravel him layer by layer. Her very voice touches his mind like an unending dance, eyes pierce through him like a sharp sword, and her wit – oh, that brilliant mind of hers –the entirety of her existence feels more like a drug to him than anything he’s ever taken. 

Her fingers moved and reached for him, trailing a soft touch over his chest. It was a simple thing, something that shouldn’t feel out of place at all, and yet every single millisecond of it immediately stored itself in his mind. 

“You chose her.”

His own words directed to John suddenly emerged out of nowhere, the proximity between him and Irene becoming more and more evident. He remembered the first time her saw her photograph, admiring her for how she was playing her cards, living up to her title as a dominatrix. 

And then he saw more of her many faces, as time flew by, layers of both their strength and vulnerabilities dropping one by one like the pieces of their clothing on a treacherous circumstance.

He looked at her once more, wondering what she might be dreaming of. It was always a puzzle with her, always so dynamic and ever changing, that just when he thinks he discovered something new, she never ceases to amaze him. 

Rolling carefully to his side, he turned to face her, John’s words running through his mind. 

“Do something while there’s still a chance, because that chance doesn’t last forever.” 

But what is something? He doesn’t even know what this is.

And as if she heard him, Irene’s eyes slowly fluttered open, her dreamy gaze falling on his. She smiled softly, not the smirk that was familiar to others, but a soft and warm smile she often showed only to him – or so he thinks. 

She reached for his cheek, brushing it gently with her thumb. 

“Your thoughts are so loud it woke me up.” she teased. 

Sherlock looked at her curiously, wondering what she meant. He found it absurd for a moment that his mind actually crossed the idea of her hearing his thoughts. 

There might be a change in his expression because she gave a soft laugh, shaking her head slightly as she did. “I was joking, but judging by the look on your face, you’re actually thinking about something. Did I interrupt?”

He shook his head in reply. “I – Can I ask you something?”

Irene propped her head on her arm, gesturing with her head that he can indeed ask, and he hated to admit how smitten he is at her bareness. 

“Have you ever been with anyone? Like the way John or other people like to do things.” he blurted, almost biting his tongue at the malice in his voice. 

It was evident that Irene found the question quite curious, knowing that he was pertaining to emotions or romance, and she gave the most straightforward answer. 

“Yes. Twice, actually. But it was a long time ago.”

Sherlock waited for her to continue but she didn’t. He saw in her eyes that it was all she was going to say about the matter, so he simply turned to lie on his back once more, eyes averting from her. 

“If you want to say or ask something, I wouldn’t mind.” she breathed, fingers twirling strands of his hair. 

“No, that’s all.” he simply replied, his chest starting to feel hollow that he was fighting the urge to vomit. 

“Would you like me to leave?” Irene mused, her words stinging his ears even if there was nothing different in her tone. 

When he didn’t reply, she stood up and started to gather her clothes on the floor. 

Cussing himself, he rose and reached for her arm, holding her firmly. “Just… stay.”

“Why?” Irene asked. 

“Because I don’t understand.” Sherlock admitted, his voice constricted. 

It surprises him how she seems to comprehend even his most cut-off expressions and statements, like his mind was telling hers the next part of the sentence even before he could finish it. 

Irene sat back on the bed, raising Sherlock’s head for their eyes to meet. “Look at me. What do you see?”

Hiding his surprise, the detective studied her and wondered where she was going with the conversation. And he did look – seeing the natural flush on her cheeks, her steady gaze, her parted lips, how her hair fell on her bare shoulders, the line of her collarbone, the curve of her breasts, the flecks just above her navel – and yet, beyond it he couldn’t read her, which frustrated and fascinated him at the same time. 

“Well?” Irene asked again. 

“I still can’t figure you out.” Sherlock muttered, to which Irene laughed. 

“You haven’t changed. You still don’t know where to look.” she quipped, making him more confused than he already was. 

Sherlock sat to face her completely, sighing. “And you still love playing games.”

Irene’s eyebrows rose. “Games? This one was easy. You’re just over-complicating things.”

“Over-com – I don’t understand.” he replied. 

Irene rolled her eyes. “Why did you ask me to come?” 

He looked at her incredulously. “You know why.”

“No, I need you to say it.” Irene demanded. 

Sherlock shook his head. “You’re impossible.”

“And so are you.” she spat back. 

“Yes, and so is this!” Sherlock suddenly hissed. 

Irene was taken aback by what he said, her eyes suddenly blazing. “Yes, I guess it is.”

She stood once more, hastily reaching for her belongings. But before she could even reach the door, Sherlock grabbed her by the shoulders, and without a second to lose, his lips crushed to hers. 

His hands trailed to her shoulders, to her arms, to her body, fingers masterfully stroking her body like the familiarity of his violin. 

“I don’t know what to say or what to think.” he breathed against her lips, his forehead touching hers. 

Irene’s hands trailed his waist, sending a chill down his spine, and her body felt closer and closer to him, lips still touching. 

“I don’t, too. But isn’t this one of those times when we go with ‘actions speak louder than words’?” 

He felt her lips taste his once more, their kiss getting deeper and deeper. She curved against his touch, fingers twirling over his hair, both of them almost moulding to each other. 

“Why did you ask me to come?” Irene whispered with a smile. 

“Why did you come?” Sherlock replied, finally understanding. 

For when Irene asked him to look, as usual he looked closely and not see the big picture. But at the sign of her leaving, it clicked on a whim, and with her and him at this moment, he realised that questions that lie beneath are what and who they are. 

Did it matter? No. 

Because him asking for her presence, and her submitting to his yearning was the only conclusion that can explain them.

Discussing the intersection of expectations, culture, and narrative structure when it comes to suspension of disbelief and perceived narrative quality (using Kuroshitsuji and Sherlock season 4 as examples)

The title makes this sound kind of smart but in reality this is another really really long and totally incoherent ramble that accomplishes nothing it’s just something I thought was interesting and wanted to rant about. I’m sorry. One day I’ll go back to writing clever text posts I just don’t know when that day will come.

TL;DR: I thought of what it would be like to describe the 2ct becoming canon to someone who’s never heard of it and it sent me on this long spiral of thought where I concluded that the cleverness of a plot twist can be weighted on toooootally different criteria depending on who you ask.

Keep reading

My headcannon body types

My head cannon for the Mane 6’s body types

AJ: Thicc. Solid fucking muscle from all that farm work and hearty food. Girl’s tall and broad.

Dashie: Tiny, like super petite but almost no body fat. She’s muscle skin and some small bumps for her chest XP (flattest member of the 6)

Flutters: Very twig like. Girl loves animals so much she probably keeps vegan. Vegan girls are super skinny with barely any muscle on her. On top of that she was tall and pretty enough to be a super model for a while.

Pinkie: Girl is curvy and chubby in all the right spots. She’s still in shape cause she can keep up with the rest of her friends, but you know all that sugar and cream goes somewhere. Hips, tits, and ass~

Rarity: Elegant curves, beautiful butt, perky tits. She has that look of the girl that’s too good for you. I like to think she does work out a little, but stuff like Pilates, and yoga. Just enough to maintain her figure

Twilight: Twilight is kind of average, but she’s on the skinny side of average. I base this off of BBC Sherlock. He will go days without food, and when he does eat, he’ll eat really crappy food. And I’ve noticed that Twilight does the same thing. She’ll get so focused on her schedules or research that she’ll forget to eat, sometimes for days, and only when she remembers she’ll benge a little. Like she did in Twilight time.

And just cause, bonus round. Sunset: Fit, not as muscular as AJ, and not as lean as Dashie, but well built. She had to be the tough girl in school, so she probably strength trained a lot to keep her guns in order. But now, with most dedicated gym rats, its become habit and she just keeps it up.

Now I want a motivational poster of Sunset flexing and the text is “keep her guns in order”

The Interesting One Final Part

Originally posted by fandomediiits

Author’s Note: Hey guys, so finally the final part of the Interesting One. I’m sorry that this took me so long. I’ll explain everything in the next post :) Until then, enjoy and please leave feedback if you feel like it.


There isn’t a single day that Sherlock does not think about the meeting with you. What did you want? Or what could you possibly owe him? And what where your intentions ? What did you know?

You certainly know about your sister and her wellbeing, hiding somewhere and if she was smart enough, never showing up again, where someone would recognize her. Like you would care, honestly you actually were a little annoyed, that he saved her. Would’ve made things easier and you wouldn’t have had to hide her.

Anyway, you got that job you wanted and actually had to work with Mycroft on a daily basis. He doesn’t trust you and you know it, especially because he knows about your encounter with Sherlock and what you told him. After all he picked you up afterwards and tried to figure out, why you wanted to disguise and confuse him with your clothes and what you said. But did you really knew Moriarty? And how did you know he said he owed Sherlock something? He asks himself the same questions as his little brother and for once in their life, they couldn’t figure it out.

So at some point, Sherlock and Mycroft show up in your office. You hear and knock on the door and call them in.

“Ah, the Holmes Brothers. How do I deserve this honor of both of you?” you ask with a smile and lean back in your chair.

“Ms. Adler, thank you for your time.” Mycroft says while Sherlock takes a seat in front of you and starts scanning you. You smile at them and lean forward putting your elbows on your desk.

“What can I do for you?” you say and keep your eyes on Sherlock.

“The question we have is, what can we do for you?” Sherlock answers.

“For me? Nothing really, why?”

“Well, Ms. Adler, as it seems you have confused my little brother and I with visiting him and telling him, you owe him something.”

“Ah, I see.” You say with a smirk and lean back again in your chair. “So you would like an explanation for that afternoon?”

“We would appreciate it.” Mycroft says with a slight smile while Sherlock just stares at you a little puzzled.

“Well can’t you deduce Mr. Holmes?” you say directing your words at Sherlock.

“As far as I know, you don’t have a good relationship with you sister…” he starts.

“You know that because I told you.” You answer.

“You disguised yourself at my apartment, wearing clothes of some assistant around here, you weren’t phased at all about anything. You were completely relaxed and enjoyed Mrs. Hudson’s tea and cookies. You definitely know more than you show but show it on purpose at times, letting little things fall into your sentences. You said ‘I owe you’ in the same way as Moriarty did and not even your sister knew that, so you were definitely involved with him at some point. I have approximately 5 ideas on how right now.

Which is fascinating as you said, that you couldn’t bear to have a sister involved with him considering the job you wanted, but now are in. But again, you said you couldn’t bear your sister to be involved, doesn’t mean you can’t. Because nobody would guess that, as you are holding this position. “

You smile at him and nod, putting down the pencil you didn’t noticed, you held the whole time.

“5?” you ask.

“Maybe just 4.” He answers.

You chuckle and relax in your chair. Mycroft and Sherlock keep on studying you.

“I do know Jim Moriarty. He has been a good friend for a long time.” You say eyeing them, but they did expect it after all.

“I knew him before his criminal consulting time. And towards me he never showed that side of him. But I knew, the way he said things, the way he disappeared, the calls and his attitude that changed then. And then my sister got involved and then he knew, that I knew. I cut all strings attached and distanced myself from him. Until he and my sister got involved with you both. I got my eyes and ears everywhere, making sure it doesn’t get out of hand. So yes, I do know more than people would guess.” You say with a smile.

“In a job like this, you need to. But it’s nothing illegal.” You say, directing this to Mycroft. He smiles and stands up.

“Well, if that’s the case then we won’t bother you anymore.” He smiles and moved to leave, but not without giving a pointed look at his brother.

“Actually Mycroft. I would like to talk to you brother a little more, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, go on then, I’ll be waiting outside.” He smiles and closes the door behind him.

“So Mr. Holmes…” you start, looking at him.

“Sherlock, please.” He said.

“Well, I’ll give the honor back to you.” You smile.

“Sherlock, I would like to keep in contact with you.” You say.

“In which way?” he asks simply.

“In the way, that I’m sure we can help each other out, I’m willing to give you more freedom with cases than Mycroft would. But I’ll need you help here and there.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Glad I got your interest.” You smile.

“What help of me would you require?” he asks.

“I would like to talk about this somewhere else.” You answer.

“How about dinner tonight?” he asks. You smile a little sheepishly at him and nod.

“I would like that.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up then at 8 o’clock.” He says while standing up.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“I think this will get rather interesting. You are a very interesting person, that I can’t quiet read and it excites me.” He says.

“I know what you mean.” You smile, he smiles back.

“See you soon, Ms. Adler.”

“See you soon Mr. Holmes.”

He leaves and you lean on your desk. He sure is an interesting person, and who would’ve thought that the two of you would form something like a friendship and grow rather fond of each other. And who thought that the two of you would spark emotions in each other. At some point the business dinners turned into business dinner dates. And it was the highlight of your week.

3

Masterlist

Part One

Part Two

Gifs not mine.

Part three requested by @thestrawberryblondehobbitbatch.

A/N: So this is the concluding part to ‘Those Scars’ and it has a much more happier ending than the other two. Enjoy! xxx


“Hello, Y/N!” John greeted you. He hugged you. “Come on in. Mary is out at the moment.”

“It’s fine. It seems likes ages since I last saw you.”

“It has been.” You entered his house and took off your coat. You sat down in the living room. He made tea and you got talking. However there was an elephant in the room. That elephant was Sherlock Holmes. The conversation was normal and wasn’t awkward at all. There was just a feeling of sadness in the room due to a certain someone throwing themselves off of a building. You did as your boyfriend had instructed and didn’t tell John. You figured out that Mycroft knew because he would have had to. Molly knew because she’d told you the plan. However, in a sense, Sherlock may as well have been dead because you were suffering the same. His funeral seemed very realistic and you poured your heart out when giving a speech to his grave. His absence took its toll on you despite you knowing he was alive. 221B felt like it was in mourning just because a resident was missing. You stayed to give Mrs Hudson company. Sherlock left and then John moved out. She hadn’t been in contact with John much after his departure and you knew that she’d be devastated if you then left. So you lived at Baker Street with pain each day. You were very upset however you were also very angry. Sherlock didn’t say goodbye to you personally. He just sent a letter.

“How’s Mrs Hudson?” John asked.

“Fine,” You replied sadly because you knew what you would say next would bring up the topic of Sherlock. “She wants to see you. It has been two years and she misses you.”

“I know… I know. I am sorry. It’s just hard to go back after…”

“I understand.” You took his hand. “But you must see her and I know it will be hard to go back.”

“Do you know? You seem to be coping just fine!” You had no idea where John’s anger came from but you didn’t like it. The cheek he had to turn this around on you. You guessed that he had been bottling up his anger for so long.

“'Just fine?’ I have not been coping 'just fine!’ Just because I live in the same place does not mean that I’m suffering any less than you are. Do you know how hard it is to wake up every morning and regret the fact that you couldn’t stop your own lover taking his life? Or that you can’t change the fact that people believe that he is fake and he has to take that to his grave? I didn’t even see him! I just got a letter! A damned piece of paper with his writing on! I feel guilty John! Guilty that I have to move on without him and start a life that he could have had.” Tears brimmed in your eyes and you knew that John instantly felt guilt.

“Y/N, I am so sorry.” He took your hand. “What I said was uncalled for and it was not my place to say how you feel. Forgive me.”

You nodded. “I just miss him.” He pulled you into a hug and you cried into his chest. Two friends reunited with sorrow.

 

 

You rejoiced as you read in the newspaper that Sherlock’s name had been cleared. However the happiness was short lived because you suddenly felt the anger towards the consulting detective again. After being sat in Baker Street all of that day, you decided to stretch your legs. You took a walk around London. Eventually, you sat on a bench in Hyde Park which was overlooking the lake. You would sit there with Sherlock if you had a case in the area. You’d always return to that bench and talk about anything with him. If you had felt down in the dumps or a bit under the weather, then he’d take you there. He wasn’t the best at showing affection however he always knew that he was doing that right. You smiled at the fond memories.

“If only you could be here, Sherlock,” You muttered to yourself.

“I am,” A voice replied causing you to jolt your head side wards. You swallowed a lump down that was forming in your throat. You saw a tall man in a long black Belstaff coat with a blue scarf wrapped around his neck. He had a pale complexion and high cheekbones. A mop of brown curls was on his head an he had striking blue eyes. It was Sherlock.

“Two years…”

“I had to-”

“Two years and all I got was a letter!”

“I had to take down Moriarty’s network.”

“I don’t care! You could at least have said goodbye. What if you had been killed?”

“I made sure that I wasn’t. And it is okay now.”

“No it isn’t! It will never be okay!” You smacked him. He winced in pain however he saw it coming and he knew that only he was to blame. Yes, the famous Sherlock Holmes was admitting defeat. “I gave a speech. At your grave.”

“I heard you.”

“Then I cried all the way home.”

“I saw you.”

“And then I couldn’t get over your loss even though I knew you was alive.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry is just a word. If you com back to 221B, then you’re staying in John’s old room.” You turned and walked away leaving Sherlock on his own.

He sat down on the bench and proclaimed, “I’ve missed you.”

 

 

It had been two months since that argument. You hardly ever saw Sherlock even though you were living in the same flat. That was your doing. You got up early in the morning and spent most of the day out. You came back late and then isolated yourself from him in what was your shared bedroom. He had tried to see more of you but you just ignored him. It broke the pair of you but you did not want to get yourself hurt like before.

 

 

Sherlock was sat in his armchair thinking. He wasn’t in his mind palace or anything so it was nothing special. He was just thinking. It was pouring down with rain outside and you had yet to return back to the flat. That was until the door opened. You stood in the doorway drenched from head to toe. Your wet hair stuck to your face and drops of rain trickled down your cheeks. However, your eyes were puffy and he could tell you had been crying. You stood staring at each other for around a minute before you broke down.

“I miss you,” You told him. He got up and hugged you. Something he wanted to do since the moment he left. He took no notice to the fact that rain from you had dampened his shirt. You cried for a second time that day as he held you tightly.

“Let’s get you dry and warmed up,” He replied pulling away. “I promise you one thing, I will never leave you alone again.”

“Just know that although you are a huge twat, I will always come back to you.”

The Game

Originally posted by ferrronika

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Paring: Sherlock, John x Reader
Summary: As requested by Anon!

I don’t know where I am.
I don’t know who I am. 

You spun around frantically trying to pull yourself together. You saw buildings all around you, felt people bump your shoulders and heard the car horns as traffic sped by. The uncomfortable sights and sounds filled the emptiness in your head, taking the place where your thoughts should be.

You wanted to make it stop, shut it all out. You wanted to cry for help, but you didn’t know what you needed help for. 
The world spun, the noises got louder, you couldn’t handle it. 
You covered your ears, shut your eyes and screamed with all your might. When your knees hit the pavement you felt the world fade away.
You had a moment of silence and one word came to mind…

Sherlock.  

You didn’t know what it meant but it felt certain, safe. It didn’t answer your questions and the way it sat on your tongue made you fairly sure it wasn’t your name. 

“Sherlock!”


Originally posted by cumbersnitchflabberbatch

“John, can you be quiet.”
John looked up from his newspaper and raised his eyebrows at his roommate. “am I thinking too loud for you Sherlock?” he asked sarcastically. 
“That would imply that you are capable of producing coherent thoughts.” Sherlock snapped, throwing himself dramatically into his armchair.
“If a case doesn’t come along soon I will turn to a murderer.” John said snapping his paper back in front of his face.
“No need to do that for me.”
“I was planning on doing it to you.” John fired back without looking up.

Suddenly Sherlock shot up in attention. “Finally, someone interesting!” 
“Thank God!” John tired to pretend like it was a relief but deep down he was just as excited as Sherlock. Things had been too quiet in the flat on Baker Street. “Tell Mrs. Hudson to let them up,” he said as he got up to make tea. 
John jumped seeing the figure in the doorway. Usually Sherlock predicted their visitors before they made their way to the second floor. Usually Sherlock had it all figured out before the client even sat down to share their sob story. But this time Sherlock was silent, his hands brought together under his chin as he poised himself to observe. “Uh hello there, I’m John Watson. Would you like to take a seat?” John gestured to an empty seat between the two arm chairs. 

You didn’t have a lot of trouble finding Sherlock. You didn’t know if it was a place, a person or a memory but the moment you started asking the strangers around you they knew where to point you. “Oh Sherlock? Sherlock Holmes? Brilliant. Odd young man, but brilliant.” Those were the exact words of the little old lady who directed you to 221B. 

Instinctively you pulled your black coat closer around you as you took the seat John pointed you towards. The two men sat down on either side of you, John staring at you expectantly as if he was waiting for you to speak. But you didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t tell them why you where there or how you knew to come. You couldn’t even give them your name. Sherlock, much less expectant but much more intrigued sat leaned back and slightly smiling. You didn’t get what was so funny. 

“What can we help you with?” John said breaking the silence. 
“I-I don’t know.” You responded. 
“Sorry?” 
“I don’t know who I am or why I’m here. I can’t remember…” saying it out loud made you feel stupid. Who doesn’t know who they are? Who shows up for help and not know what’s wrong? You scrunched your eyebrows together and stared at the floor in embarrassment. 
“May I?” John was on his knees in front of you, blocking your view to the aging carpet. “I’m a doctor.”
“If her memory loss was caused by harm it would’ve been obvious.” Sherlock said dismissing John. “Concussions are not always obvious,” John retorted waiting for you to give him the ok. You gave him a slight nod and he took your head in his hands, checking for any injuries and watching to see if your pupils dilated. “What’s the last thing you remember?” John asked. 

“Nothing.” You had spent the last few hours searching your mind for something, anything to think back on. But all you remembered was waking up in the city. It’s like you had no past, no yesterday. 
“Wrong,” Sherlock said from his seat, “you remembered one thing. Me.”
“I’ve never met you.” You shot back, not liking how abrupt he was.
“Then how did you learn his name?” John asked.
“That’s not the question,” Sherlock interrupted with a sign. He was clearly annoyed that you all weren’t on the same page.
“Then what’s the question?” John asked, rising to his feet. he wasn’t bothered by Sherlock’s comments. He was clearly used to being 5 steps behind his friend. 

“It’s likely that she remember then name because she figured out we could help, but considering how wiped her memory is it’s most likely that my name was the last thing she saw,” Sherlock began, pacing in front of you. “She could have gotten it from anywhere. We’re in the papers, someone could have spoken it to her. But no. She’s too clean to be someone off the streets, her clothes are fresh but worn like she’s owned them a few months-6 to be exact. But she…she has something familiar. Something meant for me to notice…You were deliberate. You’re a message.” 
“Why me?” All of Sherlocks observations made you angry. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. That what had happened to you, what erased everything you knew was a trick, a ploy to get to Sherlock. You didn’t know him. You could care less about his life and yet here you were. A piece in a game that no one asked if you wanted to play. “Why me?”
You felt a hot tears roll down your face. 

“You’re asking the wrong question!”
“Sherlock!” John gave his friend a threatening look and sat down next to you, his eyes darting to the tear you didn’t bother to wipe away. “We will figure that out, ok? We will help.”
That’s when something in you clicked, like a light switch you turned off the anger and swallowed your tears. Focusing on what you didn’t know would drive you crazy. So you focused on what you could learn. What was the right question? 
Then it hit you. “What’s the message?” you asked.
Sherlock smiled, glad someone finally understood where he was going. 

“The game is on.”

Originally posted by codychristian

Requests are opened!

The bell rang and you threw your locker door shut at the exact same moment.

“Oo~” Theo narrowed his eyes “Bad mood are we?”

“What’s it to you?” You frowned at him, crossing your arms over his chest.

“You’re jealous.” He declared, a sly smirk stretching on his face. “Let me guess…Of Hayden?” You rolled your eyes.

“Really, Sherlock? How did you figure that out?”

He shrugged.

With a scoff you moved away from him, gliding to your class along with the other students. Theo followed after you.

“Maybe I can help you.” He called after you.

“If it involves the Dread Doctors” You stopped next to your destination, you putting your hand on the door handle “I don’t want to hear about it.”

You stumbled into class, your (colour) eyes on instinct landing on Liam Dunbar – the current object of your obsession.

The world around you seemed to brighten once his gaze found you and he sent a barely noticeable smile your way. It was more than enough for you, as you hooked a loose strand of (colour) hair behind your ear and took your usual seat, one being right next to the werewolf with immense temper tantrums.

With one last glance sent your way Liam turned to Hayden which ruined your already non-existent mood in a second. You in return glared at her head, feeling your blood boil to the point where you snapped your pencil in half.

“You okay?”

With a big smile you snapped Liam’s way who was watching you closely.

“Just a bit…” You threw a dirty look the black haired girls way “-tense.” You finished, finding his eyes and staring straight at them, unable to look away.

“Why?”

“Theo, mostly…” You mumbled.

“Is he hurting you?” The genuinely in his voice surprised you.

“What?” You asked, blinking “No-no no no, he’s… behaving.” You gulped “Just the things he says, sometimes…” You grimaced “Well, all the time,” You smiled “throw me off.”

He continued to examine you closely, before speaking.

“Well, alright” You said “Tell me if he’s being an asshole.” You laughed at that, and he cracked  smile.

“Theo is always an asshole, so I guess I should start complaining.” You grinned.

On cue, the teacher bust through the door, directing Liam’s gaze to him.

“Maybe not now…” The beta said, glancing at you “-how about after school?”

“Can’t wait.” Was the first thing you blurred out, still unsure if you heard him correctly.

New Year, Same Fandometrics

Television: Oh, ayyyy (lmao).

Sherlock? Fourth Season. No. 1. Finally.
The OA debuts at No. 20, and did you hear? It stars a Tumblr user. (Hi, @lilskeletonprince!)

Movies: Glitz and glamour and strong female characters.

☆ Take a seat and listen to this: Passengers debuts at No. 10.
Hidden Figures should be seen, it debuts at No. 12.

Music: This Christmas, our hearts went out to George Michael.

George Michael (No.1) spent his life giving so much to so many. RIP.
Mariah Carey didn’t sing on New Year’s Eve, but she did make it to No. 2.

Originally posted by catastrofe

Celebrities: It was a long, hard week to cap off a long, hard year.

Carrie Fisher (No. 1) and her mother Debbie Reynolds (No. 2) were incredible women who will inspire for generations to come. <3
Martin Freeman returns to No. 10 like Sherlock returned to your TV.

Originally posted by jupiter2

Games: No quarters necessary.

The Last Guardian falls fast and hard, down ten spots to No. 17.
NieR: Automata breathes some new life into the list, debuts at No. 13.

Web stuff: The highest high and the lowest high.

Wiishu debuts at No. 20 after hitting 50,000 subscribers on Youtube.
RWBY takes the No. 1 spot yet again.

The question that follows becomes: why would Sherlock text them two entirely different things to convey the same message? Four things come to mind.

  1. Sherlock communicates to them differently based on his relationship with each of them. He speaks with John in an efficient, utilitarian way, Mary in a more complex way. He did highlight this throughout 4x1 in his interactions with Mary about cases.
  2. Mary’s message may be coded. Sherlock knows her background occupation, knows that she recognized a skip code right before John was nearly burned alive, he trusts her to figure it out. It could be a warning.
  3. The audience is trained to assume both the texts are from Sherlock. Both John and Mary received their texts at the same time. Presumably Sherlock could have sent both if he types as fast as he thinks. But he might not have, the texts could be from two sources. Which leads me to…

4. Sherlock Holmes. Sherrinford Holmes. Same initials.

Irene Adler is a Mirror for both Sherlock and John, depending on which character is viewing her in ASiB.

We’ve all noticed the overwhelming similarities between Irene and Sherlock - it’s frankly rather hard to miss them.  Wavy brown hair, blue eyes, amazing cheekbones, use of a riding crop, their cleverness, their sexual orientation… we could go on for an hour about this.  It’s so obvious to us to see their connection because we are watching S2 through John’s POV.  He sees Irene as a Stand-in for Sherlock.  Whenever John is an outsider looking in, he sees those two mirror each other.  However, the same can be said for Sherlock who sees Irene mirror John, whenever he’s an outsider looking in.  Therefore, every interaction these characters have with one another in ASiB has ulterior meaning depending on who the onlooker happens to be.  The goal of this post is to make it easier for viewers to switch POVs in this episode to find out exactly what Irene means to these two men and the long-term effect she has on their romance.  

Let’s start with John’s POV because it’s easier.  He meets Irene and is professional, but confused.  Once she puts on Sherlock’s coat, John starts to flirt (You like policemen? / I like detectives).  She and Sherlock have a small battle of wits and John leaves the room.  To John, he sees Irene from the beginning as similar to Sherlock.  Later Irene drugs Sherlock (Something only Sherlock does to himself) and she vanishes.  John counts all of the texts she sends Sherlock, remarking on how often she reaches out.  He later remarks about how Sherlock always replies to everything and always needs the last word, so John believes Irene is the same way, texting Sherlock incessantly because they both always need the last word.  Once Irene dies, John sees Sherlock wilt.  To him they are one and the same.  The day Irene breaks into the flat in order to get Sherlock’s help with the Bond Air email, John is watching the two of them battle their cleverness in perfect harmony.  Irene is wearing Sherlock’s dressing gown.  John interjects his middle name in order to include himself in what appears to be two people becoming one.  And if they were to literally become one, John thinks they should name the child after him. John leaves Sherlock and Irene alone that night, tired of being an outsider since the two of them have so much in common.   And this is exactly how the viewers are supposed to see Irene - a clever woman battling a clever man.  Irene+Sherlock with John by himself.  At least, this is what the episode looks like if you’re only examining the actions between Irene and Sherlock through John’s POV.  

Sherlock’s POV is so much more important than John’s in ASiB because we see everything Sherlock thinks regarding a possible romance with John play out in this episode.  This is a little trickier so bear with me.  

Sherlock has been thrown off his game ever since John offered to die for him at the pool.  Sherlock’s obsessed with finding out John’s middle name, he’s smoking again.  Sherlock is fully invested but doesn’t know if John feels the same way.  Remember John told Sherlock in ASiP that his deduction about John asking him out at Angelo’s was wrong.  Sherlock has conceded that he must’ve misjudged John’s intentions.  Ever since then he’s been trying to figure out how to gain more information on this topic.  He offers John money in TBB as a kind gesture, also tells him not to get a job so he can hang with Sherlock more often.  Sherlock has nothing to go on regarding reading John’s intentions until he meets Irene Adler.  From the beginning Irene is seen through Sherlock’s eyes as a mirror for John and once he overhears her confession at Battersea, he takes to treating her like he would John, as practice for gaining more information about what it looks like when someone falls in love. Because he needs to know once and for all what John thinks about him romantically. 

First Sherlock is made aware of Irene through her website.  She, like John, advertises her services this way.  While John’s website is fully devoted to Sherlock, Irene’s is fully devoted to sex.  Once in Irene’s sitting room, Sherlock watches John and Irene flirt which causes him to jumble and slur his words.  He quickly recovers and plays it off as nothing.  He saw those two bond over something sexual without him.  He changes the subject to break the two of them up.  Irene breaks into Sherlock’s bedroom and once he wakes up and remembers what happened, he calls out to John.  John and Irene are the only two we see ever from Sherlock’s POV in his own bedroom.  Sherlock follows John to Battersea and listens to the conversation Irene has with him.  This is where we see just how similar John is to Irene: regardless of their assumed sexual orientation, they are both in love with Sherlock. John doesn’t deny this, by the way.  John and Irene are one and the same, in Sherlock’s mind.  This is why he tells both of them “Happy New Year”.  If Irene does in fact love Sherlock, then he can see if John does in fact love him, as well.  That means treating them both equally.  Once Irene shows up in his flat, he does his impressive deductions because he knows that works on John.  And it works on Irene, too.  Every time things go in a sexual direction, Sherlock always reaches out to bring John into the conversation.  Sherlock needs both of them to continue to mirror each other if he’s going to figure anything about John’s feelings for him.  

Later in the evening John leaves Irene and Sherlock alone.  Sherlock has no idea and continues talking to John, even though it’s Irene who’s listening.  He swapped those two characters in his own mind because from his POV they are one and the same.  Irene comes on to Sherlock and he appears confused at first.  However, he allows things to escalate once he takes hold of her wrist.  He knows then what she’s possibly looking for and he’s willing to play the part a little longer in order to get a legitimate example of what it means scientifically when one person falls in love.  He notices her pupils dilate and her pulse elevate.  He took that information and stored it.  He wasn’t trying to uncover her password - that he figured out later on accident.  He was taking note of her biological responses for another reason: to use that information to find out if John reacts the same way. 

This is why Sherlock approaches John in the kitchen at the end of the episode and stands uncomfortably close to John.  He’s there to take note of John’s pupils and heart rate.  And he finds that John responds just as Irene did. Because when it’s Sherlock’s POV, John and Irene are mirrors.

SO THE BIG QUESTION WE MUST NOW ASK: Is Sherlock’s end speech to Irene about the devastating effects of love meant for Irene? The answer is no.  Sherlock sees her come so close to having everything she could possibly want in this world, but her love for Sherlock destroyed her chance at safety and happiness.  Sherlock scolds her for getting too caught up in love.  If Sherlock hadn’t made it to Karachi, her love for him would’ve gotten her killed. This is exactly why he went to save her in the first place - her death would be on his hands since he was the one whom she loved, the one who lead to her downfall.  Sherlock could never let that happen to John Watson.  Sherlock could not live with himself harming John’s safety and happiness.  John cannot be a mirror for Irene any longer.  

Sherlock, now aware of what he must do, finds out from his biological signs that John does love him.  Sherlock retrieves the cell phone from John, symbolically taking his heart and putting it away.  Sherlock turns his gaze away, back to his microscope.  Sherlock will not stand for John continuing to follow in Irene’s footsteps.  

Wrong; Sherlock x Reader

Requested by Anon: Sherlock x reader where reader gets kidnapped and sherlock rescues. Reader gets angry and asks why do you bother rescuing me and sherlock replies because i love you. Fluff please 💜💜

Someone should stop by my ask box! Not only am I feeling lonely but it’s pretty deary over there! Come say Hi, lets chat!


“Sherlock did you ever pick up the milk John need?” you called from the kitchen turning to look at Sherlock who sat in his chair deeply enveloped in his mind palace. “… Sherlock?” From the chair he grunted, signifying he was listening. “… The milk?” you asked again.

His eyes opened slowly, in an attempt to show how annoyed he was. “Is there milk in the fridge?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed before walking over to the door and putting on your coat. “Well I’ll be out getting milk, then.”

The flat suddenly quieted making Sherlock look around. “Wasn’t Y/N just here?” he thought.

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How Many Brothers?

Sooo saw this gifset about tom hiddleston being holmes and just seems interesting if you can write it :3 Good if there’s johnlock, 00Q, hiddlesworth/thorki, any tom you want :D – laurifakristalina

***

I love just how many people can be included in the Holmes family. This one was a little weird for me, mainly because I usually don’t write about real people in the context of fanfiction (it’s a little odd to me), but I did use Tom in this one, even though his name is never mentioned lol

Enjoy! And don’t forget to check out the 600 Follower Fanfic Giveaway!

~Erin

***

Tea with the Holmes brothers was always a tense affair, John concluded. Mainly due to the fact that that conversations (read: arguments) involving Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes usually consisted of a heavy silence, or rapid deductions and accusations. The topic for that particular day, Sherlock’s near exile and Moriarty’s apparent return (though John was still trying to figure out how someone returned from a bullet in the brain…probably the same way someone returned from jumping off a building).

“Honestly Sherlock, if you don’t stop being so reckless, you will eventually get yourself killed.” Mycroft sipped his tea primly, “And contrary to popular belief, I cannot revive the dead.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes, ignoring his cup of tea, “Your concern is hardly necessary, though your sentiment is amusing.”

John wanted to reach over from his chair and give Sherlock a good smack. After all Sherlock had put him through in the past years, after everything with Mary and all the chaos John had been dragged through, and Sherlock had the nerve to say that concern wasn’t necessary.

Mycroft, it seemed, echoed John’s sentiment (even if John couldn’t visible see it), “As vexing as your antics are to me, brother mine.” He drawled, “I should hate for you to end up like the other one.”

The phrase caught John off guard, “I’m sorry, what do you mean “other one?””

Both Holmes brothers paused in their argument, looking at John, “Other ones, just as Mycroft said.”

John frowned, “Don’t play dumb, Sherlock, it doesn’t suit you.”

From behind his tea cup, Mycroft smirked, “I was referring to our other brother.”

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