and sherlock's like i've never been this turned on in my life

anonymous asked:

So does fandom still think there is a 4th ep? I've been feeling pretty down about it today :( just seeing how busy BC is gonna be coming up and knowing Martin is busy too and knowing how shitty they left us it's like someone died. Or up and walked of of your life never to return. I'm trying to be hopeful but it feels odd like they all of them are quietly moving on from this mess. The sheer silence from the Sherlock camp/actors isn't helping either. I'm just so bummed again. Help me believe lol

Hi Nonny!

I actually answered a similar post here the other day. In a nutshell, yes, I am still holding out hope until March 8 at the very least for some sort of news, but for me, everyone’s complete silence about the series is WHY I am suspicious about there possibly being another episode. Plus the COMPLETE 180˚ in TFP from the 12-episode narrative that was being told just doesn’t make any sense to me AT ALL. And there’s all the IN-CANON hints given in S4 and TAB, during setlock (with the Back to Back pics and the Mary and Molly in different wigs AND scenes filmed that we haven’t seen), AND MOFFAT actually being the one to START THE RUMOUR, NOT US. Also some other interesting coincidences have popped up (for instance, Benjamin Caron, director for TFP, once directed a special for illusionist Derren Brown, who is a very close friend of Gatiss… Some speculate that Brown is actually WAY more involved in the series than we intially thought, possibly helping Mark come up with a long game plan. I’ve seen speculation that his appearance in TEH may be a clue to this). 

If there is a secret episode, it is already done, so don’t worry about Ben and Martin not being able to “film” it. We believe that the Secret Episode contains alternate versions of scenes from S4 and from previous seasons’ filming, since we know for a fact that S3 ALONE has at least 3 hours’ extra film. And, as I mentioned above, there were many scenes that were filmed during setlock and we never actually saw in any of the three episodes. So there’s that taken care of.

Personally, everyone’s silence about everything is why I’m really suspicious; it’s fortunate both Martin and Ben had other engagements immediately after S4 aired, so it explains why they’re generally silent about it all. But Mofftiss are really… blasé about S4, almost acting like it WASN’T critically panned or not talking about it at all. This is why many think it was a purposeful thing, and why people think that they’re trying to recreate the outrage of ACD’s time when he killed off his Holmes in The Final Problem – essentially, Mofftiss killed off their “Sherlock” with the Final Problem, and it generated outrage and demands to fix it. Piss poor planning, if this is the case in my opinion, since I don’t think they were thinking about how much it would hurt their fans, but I digress.

ALL that said, Nonny, do not – DO NOT – feel obligated to HAVE to feel good about how it was left off. You have every right to be upset and bummed. There’s a ridiculously good chance that there IS NO secret episode… it’s not officially confirmed and its very existence is all based on speculation and rumour. If you aren’t able to have your heart broken again, THAT’S OKAY. IT IS OKAY TO BE SKEPTICAL ABOUT IT. In fact, we ALL should have a healthy skepticism; part of proving a theory is to be skeptical about its existence so you can openly find proof without bias. I would hate for you to be bummed again if it turns out that the special isn’t real. You are more important than this show. <3 But I do hope that I have made you feel a little bit better.

anonymous asked:

Hi! I was wondering if you know of any parentlock fics where John and Sherlock have to look after a slightly older child? Preferably a teenager, because I've loved to imagine what they would be like while dealing with a teenage kid

Only one came to mind when I first read this but I was surprised by how many I’ve actually read once I went through the tags.

A Shipless Ocean: Ten years after the fall Sherlock goes back to London to find that John no longer lives there. Instead, he resides in a seaside town, a widower, and the father of a seven year old son. Now, Sherlock must struggle with the fact that there may no longer be a place for him in this new world. (Son is 7)

Ours Series: John is an omega who has been on heat suppressants his entire life. When Sherlock realises this and shows an interest in John, they have to work their way through the problems caused by John having never had a real heat in his life. (Need an ao3 account to read- follows the children growing up as well)

Coming of Age: It’s not easy growing up when your father is best friends with Sherlock Holmes. It’s even harder when you stumble across their secret. (Follows daughter growing up)

The Third Holmes: After Sherlock’s death, John was an empty shell. He felt like he was simply existing. Until the day, a few months after Sherlock’s death, that Mycroft asks something of John that John had never expected. Faced with caring for the teenaged son John didn’t know Sherlock even had, John is tested beyond his wildest dreams as he is forced to learn to be a parent. Just when everything seems well and John and the boy he considers his own child have settled into a happy life, everything is turned upside down by the arrival of someone John never expected to ever see again. (Sherlock has a secret son, teenager)

The James Holmes Chronicles: It starts with five words. “Is my father really dead?” Or maybe, that’s how it ends. (Sherlock takes care of Moriarty’s son, 12)

One Last Question: “Sherlock reads two entries on the blog he just found before closing his laptop with a sigh. How could he take advice from women married to men who already cheated on them? He puts the laptop on the coffee table and glances at Lily sitting beside him. She’s looking at a book about stars and Sherlock brushes her hair tenderly before going to the kitchen. John had left hours ago now and Sherlock has not find a single idea.
How does one propose ?” (Daughter is 5-ish)

The Birds and the Bees: The five times that John and Sherlock managed to right themselves before their son Hamish walked in on them doing the nasty and the one time they didn’t. There will be man sex. You’ve been warned. (Starts out with Hamish age 3, ends with him as a teenager)

Learning Curve: John is a Kindergarten teacher. One of his students, a boy named Henry Holmes, refuses to speak in school. John is determined to get to the bottom of it, and that is how he meets Sherlock Holmes. (Son is 6-ish)

Twist of Fate: In a cocaine bender Sherlock forgets to take his heat suppressants and spends his heat with a soldier readying for deployment. While he remembers the man’s kindness he does not remember his name. In a move even Sherlock isn’t sure he can deduce, he decides to keep the child. What will he do 10 years later when he meets Dr. John Watson at Barts? (Son is 10)

If you know a fic like this, please reblog or reply with a title and author or a link!

Okay wow, so here’s a number I never thought I’d reach in around 10 months, let alone at all. But here we are, elbows deep in a lot of angsty plots/headcanons, Jim temper tantrums and fluffy moments, and I simply had to make this, because you little nuggets mean a lot to me because without you guys to bug Jim, we wouldn’t be here. So without further ado…

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Do you know any good femlock AUs? (Btw I've read everything by queerwatson and I've read How the Mouth Changes its Shape) There just isn't enough femlock 😭

well i can see you’ve had a brilliant start, here are some more that i hope you’ll enjoy <33 

teenlock/ unilock:

i already made this list if you’d like to check it out

soulmate au:

Moonlines -  Ever since Sherlock had come back from the dead, things had felt different.

how thick about us root -  Though Sherlock had never been the sort to believe in a higher power, she constantly wished there was someone in particular she could blame for the four letter word she had ‘tattooed’ over her ribs.

coffee shop:

miss a train or a plane to meet you for coffee -  Jane meets Sherlock at a coffee shop. They fall in love. They bake, they kiss. Jane doesn’t miss any trains or planes, but she does nearly miss work.

witchlock/ potterlock:

Guide Me in the Moonlight (witchlock, sherlock is a demigirl <3) -  John had easily claimed her place in Sherlock’s home and heart and cast such a spell of affection that left the witch aching.

Honey And Amber (witchlock, wip) -  Sherlock runs a little magic shop, with her trusty friend Hamish, the Glaswegian skull, who talks and interferes, and is a constant matchmaker. Johanna it’s-a-mouthful-call-me-John Watson takes a wrong turning and discovers the shop, as well as a friend, and the love of her life. (sherlock deals with a lot of insecurity, but the fic is very soft and lovely!)

Jane Watson and the Room of Requirement (potterlock) -  Sherlock figures something out about a particular room on the seventh floor that only sometimes seems to exist. She shows it to Jane. Fortunately it’s a good place for figuring things out.

a little odor that to me is metre (potterlock) -  There are a lot of disturbing things Jane is almost used to coming home to. Sherlock leaning over a cauldron isn’t one of them.

translock: (well its not really an au but i will put it on any list)

Like A Pillow -  John doesn’t like the bit of softness on her stomach. Sherlock does.

Making the Cut -  Sherlock is genderfluid, but hasn’t told anybody yet, afraid that they wouldn’t be accepted. However, feelings of dysphoria make it harder and harder to hide.

Reborn -  There are two secrets Sherlock intends to take with her to the grave. They are, quite plainly, unutterable.


Keeping You Safe -  After the end of her disastrous marriage, Joan moves back in with Sherlock and learns - quite by accident - what happened to Sherlock’s wings.

specific aus:

The Bee Charmer - au of fried green tomatoes, but less sad (contains mcd at the very end, read the tags please!)

lone and level sands stretch far away - the mummy au, and the crossover is written gorgeously to fit the characters. also, john is so fucking hot,, what else is new,

Feeling Yourself Disintegrate

Fandom: Satan and Me
Wordcount: 1,450
Characters: Natalie, Lucifer
Pairings: Natan
Rating: G or T
Contains: A few cusses
Summary: Natalie addresses some of her nagging feelings following her use of the contract. 

When he said he would take her to the beach, this wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. For starters, she assumed that it would be during the day, not at 2:00 in the frickin’ morning. “Um, should we even be here right now? I think we just passed a sign that said no trespassing…” she said.

Keep reading

Johnlock AU, Sherlock loses his memory
  • John: Sherlock, its me. John.
  • Sherlock: John who?
  • John: *quiet for a moment* John. John Watson.
  • Sherlock: Never heard of you.
  • John: For gods sake Sherlock! Its me!
  • Sherlock: I've never seen you before in my life.
  • John: Sherlock. Its me, John, your flatmate, your best friend!
  • Sherlock: *clearly confused* I'm sorry, I think you have me mistaken for someone else.
  • John: *chuckling sadly* Who else do you know is named Sherlock? Sherlock Holmes? Hmm?
  • Sherlock: How do you know my name?
  • John: Because I'm John Watson! I'm your best friend! Have been for the past 3 years!
  • Sherlock: *slowly backing away* I'm sorry, I don't know who you are. I don't know who you think I'm suppose to be.
  • John: Sherlock Holmes. The Sherlock Holmes. Consulting detective, only one in the world. MY best friend.
  • Sherlock: You're clearly mistaken. Thats my name but I'm not any of the things you've just mentioned.
  • John: *completely baffled* Jesus, you really don't know who I am?
  • Sherlock: I'm sorry. I don't.
  • John: This isn't right. This is wrong. All of this is WRONG.
  • Sherlock: Um, right. I should probably get going.
  • John: No! *more softly* Please, don't.
  • Sherlock: I'm wanted at Uni. I'm already late as it is.
  • John: Uni?
  • Sherlock: Yes, I was suppose to take some exam. Though I quite frankly don't see the point of it. They're just simple, dull, to-the-point questions; I could do them in my sleep.
  • John: You don't go to Uni.
  • Sherlock: Of course I do. I know I haven't been for the last four days but-
  • John: You haven't been for the last couple YEARS.
  • Sherlock: *chuckling* I think you've had enough to drink, don't you? I suggest you go back home-here I'll pay your taxi.
  • John: I haven't had a single drop.
  • Sherlock: Clearly you have.
  • John: Sherlock, please. Its me. Your friend.
  • Sherlock: Okay, I'm going to call that taxi for you.
  • John: No, listen to me. Your name is William Sherlock Scott Holmes. You're a consulting detective, a job you invented for yourself. You haven't been to Uni in years. You live at 221B Baker St with me, John Watson, your flatmate and best friend. We solve crimes together. I blog about it.
  • Sherlock: *chuckles* Thats absurd.
  • Sherlock: Wait. You know my name. How, how do you know my name? I've never mentioned that to anyone.
  • John: *sad smile* Because you told me.
  • Sherlock: Thats impossible. I don't even know you.
  • John: Let me help you, Sherlock.
  • Sherlock: No. Stay away from me. *backing away*
  • John: Sherlock, please, don't!
  • Sherlock: Stop! I don't know you! You don't know me! Stop saying my name!
  • John: If I didn't know you, how would I know you had a drug addiction?
  • Sherlock: You could have easily heard that from someone in Uni.
  • John: Or that you like talking to your skull Billy?
  • Sherlock:
  • John: Or how about the fact that you use three nicotine patches when you're trying to think? Hmm? Or that you prefer texting to calling? Or that you have a brother named Mycroft that you despise and he in turn spies on you?
  • Sherlock: Who are you?
  • John: I'm John Watson. 5th Northumberland Fusiliers. Army doctor. Your best friend.
  • Sherlock: How come I don't know you?
  • John: I don't know. But I'm going to find out.

anonymous asked:

First of all, I want to congratulate you. I love everything you write! And now my question. I've read that John is Mary's possession and I don't really understand it. Is it just because she is possessive and jealouse or is there something else about her that I don't see? Thanks for your time!

Awww, thank you Nonny!! That’s very kind! :D

Mmm, John as Mary’s possession is something I’ve wanted to talk about for awhile and just never got around to doing. I discussed it a bit at the bottom of this post here, but I’m going to expand upon it here for you. 

Before I begin I should probably state for my new followers that I LOVE Mary. I love that she’s an interesting, complex character and I think that her arc as a villlain-of-sorts is already shaping up to be a rather exciting one. However, this meta will paint her in a rather negative light, but only because logically, that is what the narrative is telling us. So if you like Mary and sympathize with her, this meta is not for you. My meta are always based on facts within the show; granted my opinions are skewed towards Mary-as-a-villain, but know that this is actually one of my favourite Sherlock things ever so I speak very passionately about her character arc. I’m just taking what I’m seeing on screen and translating it for the masses.

Okay, so now that that is over-with, let’s dive into this thing.

To understand her possessive behaviour, I think we need to break down her character. As I see it, I believe she is Jim’s operative, and John was her mission… except she wasn’t supposed to “fall in love” with John (which I’ll get to in a moment), simply was supposed to keep him alive and steal him away from Sherlock to ‘burn out [Sherlock’s] heart’. It’s this theory here that is the only thing that makes me think Moriarty is still alive (the only thing confusing me is her surprise at the tarmac to Jim’s return… perhaps she was worried he’d come back for vengeance because she tried to kill Sherlock? We’ll see soon enough).

The timing of Mary’s arrival into John’s life is too convenient to have simply been a coincidence, all the more reason I think Mycroft is also stuck in this mess; he’s the only one who knew where Sherlock was most of the time, so anything Mycroft knew, Jim knew. Another thought that I’m having is this: we know that Mycroft was keeping tabs on John while Sherlock was away… so what if he also saw John was becoming more and more depressed / suicidal? Mycroft was instructed to keep John alive, by Jim. Enter Moriarty’s former right-hand woman who just *happens* to also be a nurse this time around.

I think this is how we can tie in Mary and Mycroft working together; he knew of her from his CIA-on-a-freelance basis missions, and we’ve been told that Mary has done wet jobs for the CIA (and possibly some of those wet jobs were for Mycroft a LONG time ago).  Perhaps she came to Mycroft, on Jim’s orders and offered to keep his brother’s friend alive. I’m still working out this part all in my head and how it works with my theory about Mary.

So, initially Mary was with John as part of her mission – keep John alive and make him fall in love with her, because Sherlock would return and his heart had to feel truly broken. Except as a romantic, Mary possibly also fell in love with him in some odd way; possibly more with the idea John and with the sense of security he offered when they finally got together. John was constantly in a state of grieving and she possibly found out a tonne about Sherlock that even Moriarty didn’t know about, and in turn realized just how much John actually may have loved Sherlock. But John’s stupid pining over his “dead” friend was starting to get on her nerves… and god this new life of hers was so boring.

Okay, so how does all that relate to Mary being possessive of John? Well, enter Sherlock, and John straying away from her. 

I think in order to answer WHY she does it, we should consider a few things about her character. The mystery of why she would continue to keep John in her grasp without Jim around is something I’m still struggling with. Perhaps if she is the ringleader in all of this, she still would want to burn out Sherlock’s heart if only to gain a sick sense of pleasure out of it. She still would want to keep John all for herself because he is the ultimate trophy for her winning the game she’s playing with Sherlock. I just did a quick meta on the deductions of Mary during the night of their first meeting, and aside from “liar” a few of the deductions struck me as interesting, despite them being a bit muddled in Sherlock’s head:

DISILLUSIONED: (def: ‘having lost faith or trust in something : disappointed that something is not as good, valuable, true, etc., as it had seemed’). Okay, this is HUGE to me. I initially speculated that perhaps Sherlock is reading all of his deductions of her as also being a façade because she’d been living this lie for so long, but now that I’m taking the time to actually have to look at these deductions, I’m starting to think that was an incorrect theory. This is all still very much a self portrait. 

ANYWAY, back onto ‘disillusioned’. Look at that definition: could that possibly describe John and / or her mission? Perhaps she’s coming to realize living 5 years in a lie wasn’t all it was cracked up to be; she’s getting bored, and is beginning to lose faith in this plan of Jim’s ever working… Was she promised this amazing romance and a tonne of money if she just kept John alive? Or promised a clean slate if she just did this one thing? Dear Jim, can you fix it for me that I never get found by the people who want to kill me? Jim found himself a crack-shot sniper and in turn for her services he told her how fantastic Sherlock’s pet was, that he would be the best thing Mary had, all she had to do was keep John alive and keep him away from Sherlock. Good thing she already knew Mycroft.

But now that she got John, perhaps she’s finding JOHN not as great as advertised. At least not now that Sherlock has returned (or possibly always, because he’s just a boring, depressed doctor who’s constantly talking about his dead best friend; it’s driving her crazy). The fact that she’s already exhibiting these “disillusioned” words probably point to how bored she is at this point with this mission and with John in general.

Funny how having John straying away suddenly makes her want John back again… 

ONLY CHILD: Now, taking into account the above theory that, in fact, the deductions are actually Mary’s and not her persona’s, I now believe that Mary is not Moriarty’s sibling, as many have been speculating since TAB. Sherlock’s deductions were all over the place that night, but for the most part they were correct… Sherlock is rarely wrong in that regard, he’s just having a harder time processing them now that his emotions and his probable concussion are factors in this one.

GUARDIAN: Of whom? Who is she protecting? I’ve seen theories that it’s possibly her past child, a past family, a past in general; ‘Guardian’ does imply protector of a child or family. But you know what else Mirriam-Webster defines a guardian as? “One who has the care of the person or property of another”. Mary is protecting another person’s person / property (Sherlock’s John) until she’s good and ready to be done with him, or until another move happens in their perilous game that they are all playing.

SHORTSIGHTED: (def. ‘not considering what will or might happen in the future’). Here’s where I point out that she completely and totally didn’t think about what would actually happen once Sherlock returned. This is also where I point out that I am completely believing that she also faked the pregnancy: she had a plan but definitely had no idea how she would pull it off. OR the pregnancy WASN’T planned but is NOT John’s. Either way, this deduction is amusing to me because Sherlock also deduces that she’s clever… How can one be so shortsighted if she’s clever? I think she’s only clever when she needs to think quickly, when she needs to think of a “right now” solution. Clever people don’t just shoot other people who offer to help them.

As an aside, clever has the synonyms of “crafty”, “cunning”, “canny” and “shrewd”, so. I’ll leave you to your deductions.

SECRET (by itself): (def. ‘kept hidden from others; known to only a few people; keeping information hidden from others). This is also damning, to me, for it to be separated from the tattoo deduction, since it’s such a character trait of Mary. She’s hiding who she is as a person, and it’s only known to a select few people. I think David may have been her confidante, and I think Janine also may know, since I believe she’s Jim’s sister. Magnussen knew who she was before she was “Mary”. This deduction can be used in conjunction with “liar”. 

The sad thing is that because Sherlock was such an emotional mess, he chooses to ignore all these red flag deductions about her. 

SECRET TATTOO: There are a few good meta on this, but basically the gist of this theory is that she wears a tattoo of the Black Lotus from TBB on her heel. Unless someone was specifically looking for it, no one would know. So… John’s not a foot-man, anyway. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

In all seriousness, though, if this is the case, then her involvement possibly goes back further than we suspected, and leaves us to wonder about the mysterious Black Lotus. Are they a faction of Moriarty’s organization? Did Moriarty find her there? Is she the ringleader in it all? 

In any sense I hope they address some of these more damning deductions.

ANYWAY, Nonny, this post TOTALLY went in a completely different direction than you initially asked for, apologies, I do that sometimes (and by that I mean ALL THE TIME). But I think it helps to understand her character as a whole to see how her love (or non-love) for John is possessive, and I think it’s a good idea to examine her as Sherlock would. 

I think what it all boils down to is that she’s possessive in a way that means she needs to keep John alive in order to guarantee her own survival. “She’s gone a bit freelance” = she’s not playing by Jim’s orders anymore. The reason Mary started to become possessive of John was because he started to stray back to Sherlock, however unintentionally she meant for it. Perhaps she didn’t really think John was in love with Sherlock. Maybe there was a bit of jealousy, but I doubt it. She actually thrived on giving John temporarily back to Sherlock only to take him away again. 

From then on, winning John’s affections became a game to her. Imagine her elation at finding out Sherlock was being sent away indefinitely to his death. The fact that she even showed up at the tarmac when there was NO REASON FOR HER TO EVEN BE THERE tells me that she wanted to continue to make it clear to Sherlock that she had won this game, and quite possibly to ensure he actually was leaving. I also believe she gets some twisted satisfaction in rubbing it into Sherlock’s face that she has ultimately “won” John from Sherlock despite everything, and it’s this scene here that seals it for me:

Look at the way she just latches onto John here in a very possessive manner: both hands and holding onto him like he’s going to run off. And all right in front of Sherlock; he knows she’s doing it on purpose. She’s pouring salt on the wounds to a man already dead, stabbing the knife in a little deeper. Look at his eye-roll or blinky-blink as he’s turning to talk to his brother; he knows she’s being petty. Heck, I bet you Mary was hesitant to leave them to talk together because she actually thinks Sherlock might try something.

With Mary, I think it’s the idea of John that she likes; having him around grants her some sort of stability. As much as I don’t want a redemption arc for her, I’m wondering if she thought she was genuinely getting a fresh start in her life, and John was her ticket to that; stay with him long enough to finish her mission, she gets a clean slate, and creates a fake death for herself to break it off with John. My only qualm with this is that if she truly was starting fresh, then she would not still have a perfectly fitting assassin’s outfit and a gun with a silencer hidden away from John’s eyes. There’s definitely more to her than the clues the narrative can currently provide.

In the end, honestly, Mary is a psychopath, possibly a sociopath, given her need to feel like she “wins” everything (seriously, read those links and check off all that apply to Mary; pretty much all of it). I don’t think she has any remorse whatsoever for the shit she inflicted upon John and Sherlock. MAYBE she felt a “tiny bit” when she shot Sherlock and said sorry? Maybe she genuinely liked Sherlock? I don’t know; I find that hard to believe when she shoots THEN says sorry. I think it was more because she thought he was actually going to die, so make his last moments not TOO horrible; his death WAS going to guarantee John being close to her again, after all. All she’s concerned about is herself and a means to her end. It’s this possessive behaviour that I feel she exhibits will finally be her downfall. 

I personally love her character arc; I love that she’s not a whimpering side character, but instead a baddie that could possibly surpass Moriarty in her deviousness. I don’t think she’s above the whole “killing because you’re not mine any more” trope; some psychopaths have done this before. When Mary finally feels like a trapped animal she will try again; we’ve seen it happen in HLV twice, only I think this time it will be John who finally tries to stop her, possibly by protecting Sherlock. And I think, sadly, that this will only end in tears for everyone.

I have my own headcanons for *that moment*, but perhaps another time. On a closing note… we’ve never actually heard her tell John she loved him; yet both John and Sherlock have told each other that they loved each other, albeit by-proxy. Let that sink in. I think that’s a huge flag right there.

EDIT: Okay, I also forgot to take into account about Mary pushing the two of them together in TEH. I… have no idea how this fits into the theory, other than I think that it was something she HAD to do begrudgingly. But it was definitely not something she wanted to do. I welcome others’ opinions on this matter.

EDIT 2: I also don’t think she is Moriarty, but more was his right hand person who possibly is answering to a new baddie. After some thinking on this, I think Mary was surprised because she wasn’t expecting him to return (ie. dead OR because he never let her know when he was going to return). If he is, in fact, alive, I think her fear IS  because she strayed from her mission and tried to kill Sherlock. I need to still think a bit more on some S4 plot theories, but this is the basic premise I’m working from right now, which will surly change as we go through setlock.

More from inevitably-johnlocked:  MY META || BEST OF MY BLOG || “STEPH REPLIES” SERIES

shxrlxcked  asked:

hi! i have a question that may have been asked before but i've never seen it talked about and it's always kind of confused me. in teh in the scene where john is shaving he tells mary to shut up and then she says or what, and he says or i'll marry you. she stops talking which confuses me because couldn't they have added a flirty "oh i guess i should keep talking then," but like instead she actually shuts up. adding in the fact that mary seems excited that sherlock is back, what does this mean?

Hmm. This is an interesting point… She does grin cheekily after John half-assed proposes to her in his trashy way… Huh. Why DIDN’T she speak up then? I mean, I’m sure they continued on talking after the scene cuts, but it seems very interesting that Mary DOES keep quiet and the only reason John proposed to her was because she was teasing him about Sherlock. 

I talked a bit in this post here about Mary’s possible motives for staying with John. Basically my belief is that Mary’s phone call the night of Sherlock’s return was a warning of Sherlock’s return to the restaurant (which I read in another meta somewhere, but for the life of me cannot remember who wrote it), possibly instructing her to encourage a proposal out of John. The linked meta boils down to Mary basically being told to be with John as part of her mission to destroy Sherlock, and she’s possibly strayed and is also using him as her safety net. So, the cheeky smile is possibly her satisfied that she got John to propose, now being an ass to Sherlock is the fun part for her; she praises Sherlock until she gets John’s affections, then subtly turns hostile towards Sherlock when John’s not around, at least that’s the impression I get. She chips slowly at Sherlock’s horrible self esteem, and remind Sherlock that John is hers. Emotional abusers are masters at mentally hurting someone without seeming like they’re doing anything wrong (I have personal experience…) and excel at making people believe they are perfect little snowflakes.

That said, I don’t think Mary really initially WANTED to be tied to John, but then somewhere along the way she became obsessed with him, like I said, using him as a safety net. It could account for her lack of talking after.

You are right, it is very curious indeed that she does actually shut up.

The Abominable Blob

Blob blinks blearily and peels open their eyes, squinting in the harsh light as the world around them slides into focus. Everything is muzzy and confused. Their head throbs, and they try to think back to how they ended up like this.

Work. They had been at work. At their desk. It had been a late night, working on coming up with clever captions for all those new gifs that the interns had made. They had had a quick bite–just a sandwich–and then they must have fallen asleep at their desk.

Blob’s head jerks up, looking around worriedly to see if the bosses had noticed, but the sight that greets them is not at all the one they expect. They’re still at their desk, but instead of the sleek, modern, glass-and-metal design that serves as their home away from home, the desk is a dark, wooden monstrosity, heavy, with ornately carved legs. Instead of their computer, there’s a typewriter and a ream of crisp paper, and Blob wonders for a moment how on earth anyone gifs things on those. (And how exactly is a poor armless blob supposed to type on that, too?) Instead of the comfort and quiet of their small cubicle, there’s the chaos and noise of a large open space full of employees, everyone rushing to and fro in a whirl of papers, set to a soundtrack of the steady clack clack clack of fingers on typewriters keys.

What is this place? Blob stands and walks toward the nearest group of people, unsure if they know anyone here or not. But wait. There’s Brian, sitting at the desk by the window like normal. Except… Why on earth is he dressed like that? It takes a lot of convincing for the Brian that Blob knows to even wear a shirt, much less one with starched collars. Or a tie. Or a waistcoat. And is that a pocketwatch? And when did Brian grow that ridiculous moustache?

A quick glance around reveals that everyone is dressed similarly to Brian. Is today some kind of fancy dress day? Hipster day perhaps? Blob tries to remember if they had seen this on the office calendar. Bring a meme to work day is coming up of course–an annual favorite–but Blob doesn’t remember anything like this.

Gathering their nerve and trying to look as if they’re only maybe half as confused as they feel, they approach the desk cautiously. “Brian?”

Brian doesn’t move; he just keeps working, which is odd because Brian normally does as little work as possible.

“Brian, what’s going on?” Blob asks a bit louder, but still Brian doesn’t respond. He just keeps scribbling furiously on the paper on his desk.

“Brian,” Blob repeats again, nearly yelling. “What’s happening? Is this some kind of weird party?” Still Brian doesn’t look up, and Blob, irritated at being ignored, tries to give him a sharp nudge with their shoulder, but where there should be solid flesh over muscle and bone, Blob only feels air. Trying again, they watch horrified as their futile attempt at contact fails, their orange shoulder sliding right through Brian’s elbow as if it weren’t even there. “BRIAN!” they scream, standing quite literally in his face, which would probably be considered rude if Blob weren’t so immaterial at the moment. When Brian simply sneezes and scribbles on, Blob begins to think that something has gone very wrong.


Something has gone very wrong indeed. Blob ducks and runs as shots ring out, dodging a hansom cab as they flee. There’s no time to think, only to run.

Blob had just wanted to understand what was happening, so they had wandered out into the streets of an eerily unfamiliar London. It was the same street, but it had been re-paved with cobblestones, and everything and everyone around looked as if they had been transported here from the set of BBC’s new, sure-to-be-a-hit drama Dickensian. There were gas-lamps and horse-drawn carriages, men with walking sticks and top hats, women with full skirts and puffed-up sleeves. All these people around and no one seemed to notice the lonely, confused blob wandering the streets, mouth agape and eyes popping. It was as if they weren’t there, and occasionally, someone would even walk right through them. It was a curious sensation only in that there was no sensation at all–Blob couldn’t feel a thing when others passed through them, and they wondered if this was what it was like to be a ghost.

They had wandered aimlessly, lost in the hustle and bustle of this otherworldly London. Then suddenly, there had been a familiar voice. “Come, Watson, come.”

Could it be?

It could! Blob turned the corner and there stood Sherlock Holmes and his trusty companion Doctor John Watson. They looked as if they had stepped straight out of that most recent batch of gifs and into Blob’s life. Watson’s moustache was even more glorious in person, if Blob did say so themself. And they did. Or at least they tried to. But as with their attempts to talk to Brian, their attempts at complimenting Watson’s perfect moustache also went unnoticed. (If they had fingers, they would have tried to twirl it, too, but alas, Blob had been cursed with a fingerless existence.) But the lack of response had given Blob an idea. If no one could hear them and no one could see them, perhaps they could follow Holmes and Watson around unnoticed. It was worth a try.

And so Blob had spent their entire day wandering around in Holmes and Watson’s wake. There had been a murder, and so Blob had been able to check out the crime scene with them, watching as they worked, listening to Holmes’ rapid-fire deductions and Watson’s ebullient praise. The crime scene had looked familiar, and Blob realized that they had seen it before. Oh! Somehow they had actually stepped into the Sherlock special! Their excitement grew then, and they bounded off after Holmes and Watson, taking in every detail of their adventure, not wanting to miss a second. And oh my, what an adventure it had been. The things Blob had seen. It had been enough to nearly turn an orange blob white.

When Holmes and Watson had solved the case (the key clue to it all had, oddly enough, been a half-eaten baguette) and retired back to Baker Street, Blob had decided to try to make their way back home because it seemed too weird to creep into someone else’s home when they didn’t know you were there. Some of their tumblr friends might try it, but Blob liked to consider themself a more respectable blob than that.

And so Blob had turned for home, unsure if their home even still existed in this version of London, wandering through unfamiliar familiar streets, when suddenly a woman appeared on a balcony overhead, pulled out two shiny pistols, and started firing.

Blob isn’t certain whether or not bullets have an effect on someone in their state, but now isn’t the time to find out. They bob and weave, looking for a place to hide. Aha! A bakery. Surely that should be safe. Blob runs straight through the open door and ducks for cover underneath the window display, carefully hidden behind rows and rows of bread. It’s the safest place they can imagine to hide because, honestly, who shoots bread?

The window shatters as two bullets pierce the soft loaves, slicing through them like knives (well, like bullets actually, but knives sounds more poetic in Blob’s head), and penetrating right to Blob’s core. Blob doesn’t feel it, but they start to bleed all the same, their lifeforce pooling at their non-feet. They try to scream for help, but everyone is oblivious to their plight. The darkness creeps in as Blob pulls in shuddering breaths, their last thoughts that they’re glad they at least got to find out what happens in the special before they died.


Blob wakes with a start, shaking their head to clear it and looking around to find Brian standing in the doorway of their cubicle.

“Brian! I had the strangest dream.”

“I know,” Brian replies with a disappointed sigh, grabbing the remainder of Blob’s sandwich and tossing it in the bin.

“What? How could you–”

“You were screaming about the bread,” Brian says, stepping aside so that two bulky security officers can slide into Blob’s cubicle.

“Blob, we need you to come with us,” bulky man #1 says as bulky man #2 grasps Blob firmly and guides them toward the exit.

“What? Why?” Blob wriggles in their panic, but bulky man #2 just tightens his grip. “Brian, what’s going on?” Blob calls back over their shoulder.

“You know too much, Blob.” He shakes his head sadly. “You know about the bread.”

“I don’t know anything!” Blob screams as bulky men #1 and #2 drag them through the exit and down the stairs. “I don’t know anything about bread!” The two men carry them farther and farther down, their plodding footsteps echoing Blob’s doom. When they pass the door to the ground floor, Blob finally realizes where they’re taking them. “No! Not the basement! There’s no wifi in the basement! Nooooooooo!”

“Exactly,” says bulky man #1 as he unlocks the basement door. “We can’t have you warning anyone about the bread–that’s the key to it all. To the special. To the whole show, don’t you see? The baguette. The loafy window display. Even your sandwich. It’s all about the bread. And down here you can tweet, liveblog, post, update all day long, and no one will ever read any of it. You won’t be able to tell a single soul.”

Bulky man #2 shoves Blob inside, laughing maniacally and closing the door, leaving Blob with only these ominous parting words and never-ending darkness: “In the basement, no one can even hear you stream.”

I want to talk about writing.

I mean, I know everybody talks about it, and I won’t pretend to have some massive revelation to change the world of the written word, but—I want to talk about writing, and the way it changes people, and the way it’s changed me. I want to talk about how amazing it is as an art, and I don’t just mean the pretty phrase or the nifty plot or the way a character makes a choice. Writing changes everything. The more I think about it the more it amazes me, and I’ve got—I’ve got to talk about it.

There are twenty-six letters in the English alphabet. They’re little strokes on a page, angles and curves and lines, and out of that comes Shakespeare and Austen and Rowling and King. Sherlock Holmes is made of the same stuff as Riddle-Master, as the Ninety-Five Theses, as the Encyclopedia Britannica, as the manual for your coffeepot.

Even now, I can’t think of another medium like it. The simple rearrangement of letters from one place to another, and we get both the Bible and that fanfic you just finished. We get a hundred thousand stories from your mind and mine and endless minds who have been dead for centuries—and yet by picking up a piece of paper with these markings arranged on it in an order with meaning, and we get glimpses into the past and the future in an instant, a direct connection stretching across death and decades to someone else you’ve never laid eyes on in your entire life.

It’s just—words have so much power. Letters put down with a reason behind them, and suddenly I have a news article that starts a war, and an order for new shoes, and every letter ever written between sweethearts separated by time and space. We know words are dangerous. Why else do we watch what we say? Why else do we write an angry email and then let it sit overnight until we can edit it in the morning with cooler heads? And yet we come back to it every time, because we’ll burst if we don’t, because there are stories inside us that must be written down for us and everyone who comes after. 

I have never been a part of something so rewarding and so difficult in my life. I have read things so hilarious that I have laughed until I’ve cried. I have read things that broke my heart so badly my stomach hurt, made me sob uncontrollably and desperately, as if these words that I had read, words that had been written down for months or years or decades before I’d read them, had reached into me and pulled me to pieces. I’ve seen things here on Tumblr that made me so angry it physically elevated my blood pressure. I’ve made friends that I’ve never even spoken to on the phone, but who know me better than classmates I see every day because we’ve written to each other and written for each other in particular arrangements of letters that have purpose. I’ve stared at a blank Word document with its cursor blinking at me mockingly, because there was something proto-alive in my head that was so close to being real, if only I could find the words.

And the thing is—if you can hold a pen, that power’s just as much yours as it is mine, or Grisham’s, or Socrates’s. Twenty-six letters, black marks on a white page, and an unbearable, limitlessness possibility. The thing in front of you, that flat piece of your laptop or your phone or tablet or monitor? That’s not a screen. If anything it’s a window.

God! There are worlds inside you! Galaxies, universes endless with stars, all of them more infinite than anything we can see, born out of that divine spark that we see every time someone picks up their first pen to create. Not all stories are the same, I know that. They’re terrible and bad and good and great, but—the thing about them, the thing that amazes me, is that they never end. I walk into bookstores and I marvel at the thousands and thousands of stories there, mundane and magnificent, packed into hundreds of pages jammed together on shelves, books I’ll never see and never know I’ve missed. Five thousand years of written history, and every day there’s someone somewhere, quietly jotting down the birth of an unseen world.

I write because there are stories inside me. I read because every time I turn to that first page, I have the chance to reach out across lifetimes and touch another person’s mind, if only for a moment, to find out what made them dream.

How about we talk about the way you’re misinterpreting the last quote of TFP

For someone who loves to read so much into everything and analyze this show to death,the meaning of the last quote sure went over your heads or you’re choosing to ignore what it really says because you want it to feed into your collective hysteria. So let’s have the quote, right?

 “I know you two. And if I’m gone, I know what you could become, because I know who you really are. A junkie who solves crimes to get high and a doctor who never came home from the war. Will you listen to me? Who you really are doesn’t matter. It’s all about the legend, the stories, the adventures. There is a last refuge for the desperate, the unloved, the persecuted. There is a final court of appeal for everyone. When life gets too strange, too impossible, too frightening, there is always one last hope. When all else fails, there are two men, sitting and arguing in a scruffy flat, like they’ve always been there, and they always will. The best and wisest men I have ever known, my Baker Street Boys, Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.”

What Mary’s saying, simply put, is exactly what we know about the characters. At their core Sherlock is a junkie who solves cases to get high, and John is a doctor who never left the battle field, each one an addict in their own right, which isn’t exactly a stellar review or personality trait. 

What Mary is saying is that it doesn’t matter that they’re a couple of adrenaline junkies, because their adventures, their stories, the persons they’ve helped, the lives they’ve saved and will save, is their legacy, and are the the basis of their legend, and that’s what they’ll be remembered by, not their demons.

They are the last refuge for the desperate, unloved and persecuted. The last hope for everyone when life gets too strange, impossible and frightening.

Who you really are doesn’t matter” is not an insult, it’s absolution. It’s releasing them from their status of flawed and imperfect and damaged, allowing them to fulfill their potential.

bad writing is good writing

okay so I’m really young compared to the people doing this but that’s alright

original post by @wsswatson

this post is long as hell

2005 (age 6)
I’m estimating on that date, but I’ve been writing stories all my life and this was the first “””””””””book””””””” (basically someone gave me like 8 blank pages bound together) and I wrote a story about a girl who makes friends with the dolphins at a museum and sneaks back at night to play with them until her mom finds out. I wrote it in marker…

The only quote I remember from it is this:
“She did a gulp.”

2007 (age 8)
By now I had discovered Word and was writing on short documents when I had the free time. I tried to write a rip-off Harry Potter novel about a girl named Clara who finds out she’s a witch and goes via plane to a magic school. I have no records of this thank god but I do still have the notebook in which I wrote 40 pages of a LOTR rip-off called Questeye. The best friends (actually literally modeled after me and a girl named Roxanne) find their families enslaved by goblins (orcs) and have to…go find something…?

I have no quotes from it but…you can imagine.

2008 (age 9)
Fourth grade! awww. This is when I wrote fucking constantly in these really pretty journals mom would buy for me. I have all of them still.

The Slave’s Daughter
“Oy! Why can’t ye do it?” my mom grumbled. “It’s noon. Dinner. Then, I get a start on supper. Potatoes and stew tonight. Shouldn’t be too hard to sneak.” he replied. [who is ‘he’?] “Hey, I’ll do it,” I offered. “How hard can it be?”

(oh god, I also started this up again in 6th grade??)
Anyway, now that there’s no one to earn money, I now have to transfer to a public school, dropping out of my expensive, private, all-girls school. What a horrible time to transfer–in the middle of fifth grade. Stupid dad.

Rebecca was one of those people who know they look good, but pretend they don’t. All the cheerleaders will hate her, and every guy on the football team will want to date her. As for me, I’ll just watch. I’m one of those people who are just plain weird, but doesn’t care. Yet all the guys seem to like me.
(I managed to cram like five different misogynistic middle school tropes into one paragraph)

“But its not a nickname! My name is Anna Lee. That’s what’s on my birth certificate! That’s what everyone calls me!” my anger was escalating, and I didn’t care if I got in trouble. All I knew is that I hates this man in front of me.
(at least some things never change)

2010 (age 11)
This was fifth and sixth grade oh dear god and the end of my journal phase

The Meadow is where the leader of the Hunt blows his horn to call to the Nature Clan. This is the only sighting and even acknowledgment of the other Clan that is allowed to happen. It’s a beautiful place, with a smooth pond of clear blue water filled to the brim. The grass is an emerald green, rising to your ankles (that’s saying a lot, since spirits are generally a few feet taller than the average human) and the trees seem to sparkle with dew that never dries up. the best part of the Meadow are the flowers. No two flowers are the same color, or the same kind. They sparkle too, but with eternal frost, all around the edges of the petals. When the sun comes and shines on them, it throws a rainbow of light to arch over you. The leader of the Hunt comes here once a year, to make the Nature Clan aware of the Hunt. The Meadow is truly gorgeous, but not quite the taste of a Sky Clan Warrior, Warrior of the Eagle.

2012 (age 13)
Seventh grade…

“If you were to look beneath the untidy wisp of hair that blew about his forehead, you would see into his eyes. You would see the tired look of the elderly, that was only natural, but you would also see something that you might not have seen much before, the same something that most lack.”

·Order something neat. The food you order says everything. This is a classic tip and I still feel the need to repeat it. God forbid you order the lobster, you get it and they tell you that they’re out of the lobster tools, so you’re desperately trying to look alluring while cracking a lobster shell and fishing out the meat with your knife. Of course it turns out your date ordered the Caesar salad.  

“I blame myself. I hope I don’t forever blame myself, for it is the worst feeling I've ever felt. He gave everything for me; each shot that cracked the still air was for me. Each pair of eyes that he watched the light leave was for me, each cry of pain, each early rise, each General’s order, each distant explosion. All for me.”

2013 (age 14)

“The clicking of your heels is louder now, and the walls of the stone cold buildings throw your sound around faster and faster. Each time it passes through you it racks your body and you wonder how something you’re making can hurt you so much, but your heels keep clicking and you wonder why you don’t just stop.”

“Some sick twist of fate–some arrow shot by a hateful Cupid–some beautiful monster brought us together.” jeeeeeesus christ.

ALSO short snippet of some horrible Hinny/Romione fic: 
It was a slow, sweet kiss, not too much tongue (but still some, Harry Potter did not do things half-ass), not like the one Ginny had unleashed on him the other night after his proposal.
“Awh, that’s so sweet,” a dreamy voice sounded behind them.

2014 (age 15)
Around this time, right at the start of 9th grade, I watched Sherlock for the first time and I was like ok I see what this “fanfiction” is now so I got into both. This is the year of bad fanfiction turning to okay fanfiction.

The Happenings of Engagement
Rose, for example, along with her younger brother Hugo, were not let in view of the wealthy London streets without looking their best; like exemplary young children. She could not have dirt on her face, hands or in her hair when other families came to visit, and she must always wear the dresses her grandmother gives her when she comes to stay.
For the Grangers had a reputation to uphold. It was all about who you knew and who respected you in 19th century Britain, and the Grangers were very high up in society’s standards.
“Come, Rose, let’s clean you up. We have visitors today for you! Isn’t that exciting?”

John Watson vividly remembers eating eggs as yellow as his school uniform when he first heard about the Holmes.
“John, have you met our new neighbors yet?”
John looked up from his eggs, surprised. Since when did they have new neighbors? He could tell by his mother’s tone, however, that she had already met them. She was not fishing for information; she was much more insistent when she was. What she was doing now was the classic Holly Watson way of turning a question into a direction. He hated it almost as much as he hated the color of his school uniform.

Killer Queen
Sherlock stood rooted to the spot, watching in amazement as John Watson came barreling out of the bathroom with ridiculous shades on, dressed in dark jeans and a button down–where the hell did he get that fedora–and singing only slightly more dramatically than Queen into a wooden spoon.

Okay and then I went to a writing camp at Duke University:

You had always been a vision in pale yellow under the lights
Closeness was a formality
Closeness came our fourth year together when we literally could not separate
Closeness was a blessing even though neither of us really believed in blessings

Now I’m just combining everything into this: writing I’m proud of

2014/15 (15/16/almost 17 years old)
Most all of this is fanfiction…

Then Potter found him crying, and the universe condensed into that cold tiled bathroom, Harry breathless and wide-eyed in the grimy mirror behind him and Draco’s heart stopping for the longest second of his life as he fought the urge to cry for help.
And the resulting fight tore at the edges of his frayed nerves, his already ruptured soul and as he lay bleeding on the floor, Harry helpless and bewildered beside him, Draco felt his heart break and he told himself he had never hated anybody more, and he believed it.

The Pauli Exclusion Principle
Holy shit, this man was the big leagues. He looked like a model, in all seriousness, something right out of some posh men’s catalogue. He also looked rich as hell, but that was beside the point. Mostly. John did still have quite a large tuition.

For Every Action
For every action, he says, there must be an equal and opposite reaction—and Harry Potter, after that night, was a firm believer in cosmic balance.

Consequences of Redemption
“In the end it was the most arbitrary thing,” Draco answered, still with the ghost of a bemused smile on his lips. “All that deliberation and fear and oppression, and it came down to…I don’t know, some sort of gross sentimentality.”
“A gross sentimentality,” Harry repeated blankly.
“Yeah, Potter. You.”

The Best Man
“So,” he brought up conversationally at Ron and Hermione’s later that night, all of them safely two drinks in, “have either of you received an invitation to Draco Malfoy’s wedding?”

SO I’m gonna stop there……’re welcome……

At some point before I leave for college I’ll probably write an actual fucking story that I can legally publish but until then…a link to my AO3 is on my blog ;)))))))))

anonymous asked:

Umm.. This is sort of awkward for me to ask, but lately I've been thinking of a Benloo fan fiction read... so.. um... yeah instead of Sherlock and Molly, how about Benedict and Loo? (Is it weird to ship and write stories about real people?)

Okay so it’s not completely Ben and Loo, even though I ship them together, I don’t feel comfortable with writing about real people.

I do hope you enjoy what I chose to do with the prompt though, personally I think this might be my favourite story yet.

Sherlock had been tense and annoyed with everyone for more than two weeks – well more so than usually – and John had trouble figuring out why, they’d had interesting cases, loads of brain teasers and murders, enough for Sherlock not to grow bored anyways.

The answer as to why Sherlock had been particularly pouty came one day in the morgue, ‘really Molly I thought you’d know better by now, how many times do I have to tell you not to date.’ Sherlock all but growled at her, ‘this one is obviously a fool like all the rest of them, and yet you still prefer to spend time with him instead of helping me with important matters.’

John smirked, he’d known for a while – or at least suspected – that there was more to the relationship between the detective and the pathologist that met the eye, of course neither of the two people in question were aware of this fact.

‘He’s an actor, I know him from school, and he was actually second in class, so if he’s a fool, then he’s a very clever one,’ Molly bit back, ‘and if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to go have lunch with him,’ she walked swiftly away from Sherlock, walking into her office to pack her bag.

Sherlock scoffed, it was the fifth time she’d taken the time off to see this guy, and all this time she could have helped him with important experiments, and solving murders. He clenched his hands and jaw, glaring irritatingly to where the pathologist had just disappeared.

Molly shrugged on her coat as soon as she re-entered the room, rolling her eyes at the pouting detective. ‘Listen you’ll still have access to the morgue and lab, and I know you’re capable at working with the other pathologists here.’ She sighed as he was still staring angrily at her.

John heard footsteps walking towards him, and he turned to look at the stranger who had to be Molly’s date. John wasn’t embarrassed to say that this man was possibly the sexiest man he had ever seen, and he could honestly see why Molly would chose him over experiments with Sherlock.

Molly stormed out the door; anger clear on her face, John knew Sherlock had most likely said something insulting. But as her eyes fell to Benedict her face lit up in a smile, one bigger than Sherlock had ever gotten from her. Ben grabbed Molly and pulled her close, leaning in to plant a kiss on her lips, just as Sherlock followed Molly through the doors.

He stood frozen and watched as this fool kissed his pathologist, and he felt a burning anger running through his body. ‘Are you ready to go babe,’ Ben asked Molly as she beamed up at him, she nodded and he took her hand in his and led her away from Sherlock and John.

John knew Sherlock was jealous, it was easy to see, and John could fully understand, he’d be jealous too, in fact he made a deal with himself to never let Mary meet this Ben guy. Sherlocks phone made a noise signalling a text from Lestrade, obviously Scotland Yard needed help with a case.

When Sherlock arrived at the crime scene he yelled at everyone he met, and within two seconds no one wanted to be near him, even Greg couldn’t seem to please the detective, even though the case was an eight.

However mad and irritated Sherlock was he buried himself in the case, it led them to an exclusive party, it was a masquerade so the two friends didn’t mind going there together, and they were wearing masks after all. As soon as they walked through the doors Sherlocks eyes turned to find the person he’d been looking for, he’d known she’d be here of course.

The case had been solved almost as soon as he’d turned up at the crime scene, John didn’t know that obviously. Molly was wearing a strapless black dress, the corsage looking top of it encased in golden embroidery; her eyes were covered in a black lace mask, Sherlock sneered as soon as he saw Ben’s arm around her waist.

Really the man had to be daft, the only clever man Molly had ever had the sense to love was Sherlock himself, he smiled smugly, if everything went according to plan, Ben would soon be out of Molly’s life, and she would once again only have eyes for him.

He flew across the dance floor, aiming to the band playing, he was going to request Molly’s favourite song, but before he could get a word in with the manager of the band, they started playing the song he’d had in mind, and he watched as Ben pulled a smiling, giggling Molly along in his hand, before pulling her into his arms.

Sherlock was fuming; he left the party immediately leaving John behind without a word. When he found the detective later he was in his chair at Baker Street, grumbling madly. As soon as he’d seen Sherlock run off, he’d looked to where the detective had been staring, soon enough discovering the real reason they’d been there.

He’d gone over to talk to Molly and Ben, finding out that he was a clever, and generous man, despite all that, John formed a plan, he would get Molly and Sherlock together if that was the last thing he did. He had to call in backup, soon both Mary and Lestrade knew about the true reason behind Sherlocks foul mood, and Johns plan of getting them together.

Molly had smirked when she saw Sherlock enter the ballroom, like John she had figured out Sherlocks feelings for her, just long before him, which was why she’d called the aid of her close friend Benedict, he was an actor after all, so he could play the part well, he’d winked at her when he too had seen the detective enter.

The next few days she started talking about a trip her and Ben were leaving for, stating that she would be away for a week. Sherlocks head had snapped up, and he’d gotten up from the chair so fast it fell to the ground, his face was red, and his mouth set in a straight line.

He went to leave the morgue, but soon changed his mind, he turned and stalked towards the petite pathologist, grabbing her face in his hands and crashing his lips to hers. Molly smirked against his lips, she’d thought it would have taken at least another month before he would have acted, but she was happy to be proven wrong.

When Sherlock let go of her, his breathing heavy from their kiss he took the time to truly look at her, realising just how big a fool he’d been. ‘So you’re not dating him then,’ he said, trying to sound annoyed, but Molly could sense a smidge of pride in his voice.

‘Nope,’ she dragged out the word as she’d heard him do so many times before, smiling up at him, ‘as it turned out, you saw but did not observe Sherlock, he is an actor after all,’ Sherlock took another look at Molly, before leaning in for another kiss, he smiled, knowing there was no one else like his Molly, his pathologist, no one else could have fooled him like that.

When john found out he laughed so hard tears fell from his eyes, to think that he, his wife and Greg had been planning to set them up, just to find out Molly had fooled them all was possibly the best thing that had ever happened in their tiny little group. The story of how their parents started dating was the Holmes Hooper kids’ favourite goodnight story, usually told by their uncle John.