antique screen

A Pocketful of Jelly Beans, Ch.24

Summary: AU Accountant Tom and his wife are on their way to a party when they are overtaken by masked gunmen and secrets are forced to light.

Genre: Thriller/Angst/Fluff

Rating: M (abduction/flashbacks, brief depiction of gun violence, bruising/marking, non-explicit sexual content…please see individual chapter warnings)

Author’s Notes: It’s been six months since I’ve updated this story and I thank you for staying with the Jelly Beans and for your kind words.  I let fear and some things get the better of me for too long.  This chapter is unbeta’d and all mistakes are mine.  Some innuendo, no other warnings. 

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 -Chapter 7-Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 -Chapter 13 -Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 -Chapter 19 -Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 23


“What do you think, darling? Do these adequately fulfil your ‘dazzling’ edict?  Which one do you like the best?”

I couldn’t help but giggle and almost reflexively squirm away from his warm breath tickling against my ear and the gentle nipping of his teeth.  A low growling huff of disapproval accompanied the quick placement of his big hands on my waist as he settled me back snugly between his legs.  He had arranged us on the oversized armchair in the study with the laptop on the footstool in front of us.

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willietheplaidjacket  asked:

John working as a cleaner at a club as an inbetween job. It's not great pay but he likes the atmosphere. He's seen Sherlock dancing before, thinks he's wonderful but doesn't think Sherlock would listen if he went to talk to him. Then one night he goes into the dressing room to tidy up and there's Sherlock, still laced up in a black corset, wiping off his make-up. He turns to face John when he hears him come in, raises an eyebrow and turns back around, 'help me out of this thing?' (now you go)

John looks over his shoulder in confusion for a few seconds.  Surely, he was talking to someone else. ‘Er… me?’ he asks finally.

Sherlock looks back over his shoulder, a look of mild amusement crossing his red smudged lips.  ’Obviously…’ he remarks, turning back around.

John hesitates at first and then, setting his brush against the wall outside the room, enters, kneeling behind the dancer.  Tilting his head, he remarks the intricate pattern of red ribbon that ran down Sherlock’s back.  It’s complicated, taut, and John immediately sees why Sherlock needs help getting into (and out of) it.  He gets to work, untying the bow at the base of Sherlock’s back, shaking his head as he tugs at each lacing trying to get it to loosen up.  ”How do you breathe in this thing?” he inquires with a chuckle, wrinkling his nose as works.

Sherlock chuckles softly, reaching over to the vanity and grabbing a tissue, dipping it in a glass of water and wiping cleanly over his mouth. “Ugh, breathing’s boring…”

John smiles at that.  Of course, he would take fashion over function.  His entire act was a a display of lavish glamour and elegance.  ”Well, your act was very good.  You’re quite amazing actually”

Sherlock tilts his head quizzically.  ”You think so?  Hm.  I didn’t think you’d noticed”

John reaches the top of Sherlock’s corset and, gently grabbing either side, pulls it apart, remarking the imprints of the boning and eyelets on his pale skin.  ”Of course I noticed.  Why wouldn’t I?” he asks, standing up and smoothing out his trousers.

Sherlock stands as well, shimmying the corset down over his hips and kicking it carelessly to a nearby chaise lounge.  John blushes, feeling slightly indecent as his eyes glide over the mostly nude form of the dancer, who places a stocking-clad foot on his vanity chair and unfastens the clasps of his suspender belt.  ”Well, I’d imagine you’d be rather busy with your own work,” Sherlock comments matter-of-factly.

John shakes his head, with a vaguely cynical laugh, “I wipe tables and brush floors.  Not exactly hard work and I take tea breaks.”

Sherlock looks over at him, tossing the stocking over with his corset and switching legs, the faintest hint of a smile crossing his lips. For the first time since John entered the room, they look directly at each other and John can’t help but note just how different Sherlock looks without any make up on.  He’s certainly still beautiful, but like this, he looked, well, handsome and definitely miles away from the ethereal, androgynous beauty he had watched on stage.  He blinks it off as quickly as he can, swallowing and averting his eyes, a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sherlock who smiles and disappears behind an antique divider screen in the corner of the room. “And so you decide to take your breaks during my acts, then?” he calls from behind the screen.

John looks up again, listening to the rustle of fabric and shrugs, “You’re the most interesting.”

There is a long bout of silence and John shifts nervously on his feet, worried that he may have said too much or made the dancer uncomfortable with confession.  He starts to turn to leave when Sherlock emerges from behind the screen, dressed in a bespoke black suit and mulberry shirt.  John takes a step back in surprise.  Out of everything he imagined Sherlock wearing outside of the club, that was the last thing he could have predicted.  He looked like a completely different person, more like the men who frequented the club as patrons rather than one of the exotic dancers who entertained them.

Sherlock raises an eyebrow at John’s reaction, buttoning the jacket of his suit. “Problem?”

John shakes his head quickly, “No, not at all! You just look..different, Mr. Charbonneau…”



“It’s Holmes.  Sherlock Holmes, to be precise.”

“Oh…” John says, nodding and holding out his hand, “It’s nice to meet you, Sherlock.  My name is-”

“John Watson, I know,” Sherlock says, taking John’s hand in his own and giving it a shake before brushing past him and pulling a long black coat from the rack next to the door.  He slips it on, pulling a pair of leather gloves from the pocket and placing them on his hands as well.  He then grabs a blue wool scarf and in one swift motion ties it around his neck.

John frowns in confusion as he watches him.  ”How do you know my name?”

Sherlock smirks and turns to look at John, his pale eyes glinting softly.  ”Because I noticed you too…Good night, John.” he says with a wink, walking out the door and out of sight, leaving a bewildered and stunned John alone in the room.

Just Dating Chapter 5

AO3 / FF

In the rush of working fifty or more hours a week, helping her best friend plan his proposal, and managing a newly blooming social life, Annabeth’s stack of books-to-read and favorite reading chair have become sorely missed. The call of an evening in, curled into the soft siding of a wingback chair with her legs tucked under her and holding her latest read gets the better of her and she finally gives in on Friday night.

Her chair is pushed into the corner of her living room under the window with the best lighting. A tall brass posted lamp sits as close to her chair as the cord will reach and pours light over the pages on days when the clouds blot out the sun or nights like this when it’s slipped past the rooftops to create a pseudo-sunset which turns her apartment a golden pink. It’s this lighting that makes the faded, threadbare carpet and ancient faucets worth living with, but it’s nearly useless for reading.

So her lamp hums just above her head and fights back against the waning light while she sucks in page after page. Her right hand holds open her book and her left cups a fresh mug of tea, the perfect combination to round off a cozy night in. She’s lost in the story when the phone on her side table rattles violently and shatters the illusion. Annabeth spares a quick glance to see if it’s important enough to put her book down and sees the text alert. If it’s important enough they’ll call, she tells herself and resumes her diversion.

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