disappearing america

the craziest thing about the civil war discourse to this day is the posts that are like ‘tony stark needs to just take his government regulations and shove them!’ (in terms both less and more polite) and to that i offer just one itsy-bitsy teeny-tiny point of order

consider, if you will:

  • they would have happened anyway

The Craftsman Way -  MyCreativeVoid  © Taylor St. Photography 2014


  - On a unexpected visit to Fort Ross, estab. around 1812, I was taken by the light through the old glass windows. Beautiful warm tones from the aged hand hewn walls filled the room. A fine collection of old tools and beautiful antique hand planes lined the walls. Shooting handheld through a set of bars, I did my best to capture the light. I would love to be free to shoot this place from various perspectives. 

Imagine:

When Steve decides to disappear and Captain America will be no more for an indefinite period of time, he moves to a small cottage in the mountains, and you’re the only one who knows about it, so you’re in charge of bringing him groceries and other items every few weeks.

2

we all know he’d spook him lets be honest 

(alfred is terrified of spirits/demons/monsters, but doesn’t believe in them. arthur does believe in spirits/demons/monsters, but isn’t afraid of them)

im gonna tag all the au posts w “until dawn au”

Imagine Chris being terrified of your older brother, Tom Hiddleston.

A/N: Here’s that request of yours @shadowprincess0218, I managed to fit it in between other pieces I have to finish. Um- I don’t know about this one 😅 I’m tired so it might be a little trashy. But it’s done! Now- oh, right, back to my keyboard for the other three. 🙃 I need coffee.

“Stop,” you laughed, slapping Chris’ hands away as he playfully yanked at your hair. “You’re going to mess it up.” You told him but he ignored you with a cheeky smile on his face. “Chris, stop.” You giggled, slapping his hands away again.

“I’m just trying to make it look better, I’m really good at doing hair.” He licked the tip of his fingers and reached for your hair but you moved back before his fingers made contact. “C'mere,” he teased, trying not to laugh at the look of horror on your face. “C'mere, Y/N.”

“No!” You laughed as you made a run for it; as per usual, you were too slow for Captain America. “No, Chris!” You shrieked with laughter when he grabbed you from behind, lifting you off the ground. “Oh God, Chris!” You yelped and he spun you in a circle, laughing as hard as you were. “Put me down!” You started to choke on your laughter.

Your older brother watched the two of you fool around on the set while you were all waiting for the cameras to roll. The shenanigans seem to have only gotten worst now that the two of you were actually dating and not just friends- who clearly had a lot of chemistry- anymore. You met Chris a while back, when you were visiting your brother on the set of The Avengers, and immediately hit it off with him. You became really good friends, then co-stars in a few different movies- this one being your first MCU movie- and now you were a couple. It took Chris awhile before he finally made a move on you because you were after all his friend’s baby sister; you were only twenty-three whereas Chris was your brother’s age. He didn’t want to cross any lines but he couldn’t keep lying to himself anymore; he liked you and he wanted to be with you.

“Is that weird for you?” Robert asked Tom when he saw him watching the two of you. Tom turned to him and shook his head with a nonchalant look. “You don’t feel the urge to go over there and tell him how things are? Be an overprotective brother?”

“Not really, no.” Tom shook his head. “I mean- she’s my baby sister, yeah, but she’s not a baby. She’s more than capable of taking care of herself and- it’s not like Chris is a bad guy. I actually,” he turned back to the two of you, and Robert followed suit, “really like them together.”

“You also like messing with him,” Robert commented with smirk and Tom chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. It is quite funny seeing how scared he is of you. Does Chris know you don’t care that they’re together?” He asked.

“I’m sure Y/N has told him, but I don’t think he believes her. You can tell because he avoids me,” Tom said and Robert nodded. “Ready, watch.” A small smirk formed on your brother’s lips as he walked over, leaving a chuckling Robert behind to observe.

“Chris, put me down!” You demanded, giggling. Chris ignored you, of course, and continued spinning you around. “Chris!” You laughed; your stomach starting to ache from it. “You’re messing me up, I’m not going to be camera ready! Put me down!”

“You should probably do as she’s asked,” your brother’s voice approached and Chris’ laughter subsided pretty much immediately. You saw your brother strode onto the set, pressing your lips together as you tried not to laugh while Chris did as your brother said. You didn’t know why but your boyfriend- the ever-so-mighty Captain America- was afraid of your sweet, gentle brother, Tom Hiddleston who couldn’t hurt a fly.

“I’m um- I’m going to go check in with Anthony and Joe,” Chris began to come up with an excuse to leave; like he always did around Tom after dawning the title of your boyfriend. “See what scene they want me to film next so um- I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

You nodded, trying not to laugh as you shared a cheeky smile with your brother. You felt bad for Chris but you also found him ridiculously hilarious, as did Robert- who was losing it at a distance- and the rest of the cast. Basically everyone on set knew how Chris was around your brother; uncomfortable and awkward.

Of course Tom didn’t actually mind the two of you together, in fact- he wanted you with Chris. He thought the two of you would make a wonderful couple despite the age difference and you did. You’d told Chris before that everyone was okay with you were dating him, especially your brother; that fact was acknowledged but it didn’t stop him from acting weird around your brother. It worked in yours and Tom’s favor actually; Chris was very fun to mess with.

“You know it’s obvious you’re avoiding me, right?” Tom blocked Chris’ path and Chris took a step back, swallowing. “So you start dating my sister and suddenly I’m not good enough for you? She’s the better Hiddleston to hang out with?”

“That’s not-”

“It’s because she doesn’t have a British accent, right?” He quizzed and you stifled your chuckle at how ridiculous he was being just to mess with Chris; he was so easy that a reason as stupid as that worked. “If I spoke in an American accent, you’ll be more inclined to be in the same room as me?” You rolled your eyes at how British you brother was; you’d spent half your life in America so you didn’t speak with the accent, or with words and structure fit for the Queen.

“I don’t…” Chris trailed off, unable to find a way to respond. “Um-” he glanced over at you for help and you all cracked, bursting into loud laughter. “What’s happening?” Your boyfriend mumbled to himself, looking as lost and as confused as a baby duck.

“He’s just messing with you, Cap.” You giggled, sliding your hand in Chris’ as you joined his side. “He’s always just messing with you.” You shook your head at your brother who was now smiling. “He doesn’t care that we’re together. I’ve told you that a thousand times, so stop being such an easy target.”

“You’re not actually-” Chris glanced from Tom to you and back to Tom. “Oh my God,” he let out the breath he was holding in. “I was like ‘what the fuck is he talking about?’ Honestly, man. You are ridiculously scary when you want to be.”

“You think my brother is scary?” You burst out laughing and Tom did too. “Please,” you pulled away from Chris to throw an arm around your brother. “Tommy is the least scary person in this room. He couldn’t hurt a fly,” you said then looked up at your brother, smiling.

“Perhaps not a fly.” Tom agreed with a nod then continued in his most threatening tone- which definitely contradicted your previous statement because Chris was right, he could be scary when he wanted to be. “But I will hurt you if you hurt Giggles.” Giggles was your nickname growing up because- well, that was self-explanatory. “And I am not messing with you, that is a promise.”

“You are the only man I know who can say the word ‘giggles’ and still sound scary.” Chris said after a while and you giggled whereas Tom remained his threatening composure until he heard what he wanted from Chris; a promise not to hurt you. “I won’t hurt her,” he nodded. “Ever,” he added when he turned to look at you, smiling when you smiled.

“Good,” Tom relaxed his demeanor and smiled. “Now that you know where I stand, Chris, you can stop trying to avoid me.” Chris chuckled softly at that as you rejoined his side. “The crew’s starting to complain about how Captain America disappears the second Loki steps into the room,” he teased as he walked off.

“You knew he was messing with me and you didn’t tell me?” Chris tried not to smile as he turned to you; you pressed your lips together. “You Hiddlestons are the absolute worst,” he shook his head, chuckling. “I’m a little afraid to meet your parents now,” he said as you wrapped your arms around his neck; his hands placed on your waist. “God knows what they’ll do to me.”

“They’ll love you as much as I do,” you promised and he smiled. “And I love you a lot, Captain.”

“And I love you too, Giggles.”

Tourists

“You’re up early.” Joe comments as Jack walks in, looking very awake for eight in the morning, an abnormal time for the younger man to even be up. Joe figured it’d be another couple hours before his boyfriend stumbled out of bed, still complaining about how early it was.

“Wanted to give us ample time.” Jack explains, pecking Joe quickly on the cheek in passing as he made his way towards the fridge.

“Ample time?” Joe repeats, his face scrunched up in confusion, computer forgotten on the work top in front of him, “What do we need time for today?”

“We’re going out.”

“We are?”

“Yup.”

“But…”

“Nope.” Jack shakes his head, walking back around the counter to gently close Joe’s computer, spinning the chair he’s sat in so they’re facing each other. “Between you getting sick and me disappearing to America, we’ve barely seen each other. So today we’re going to be tourists. Just you and I. No work. No stress. Just fun.”

“Tourists?”

“We’re going to hit up all the famous sights in London!”

“You’re insane,” Joe laughs, “But that does sound pretty fun…”

“Then go get ready. We leave in half an hour.”

“Do you have everything planned?”

“Mostly,” Jack shrugs, taking a sip of his juice, “But some of it will probably be made up on the spot.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything else,” Joe smiles, kissing Jack quickly before disappearing into the bedroom to get ready.



“First stop: Buckingham Palace!” Jack announces as they slide out of the car, thanking the driver before he pulls away.

“I’ve seen it a million times, Jack.”

Huffing, the younger man whirls around to glare lightly at Joe, “I know that! So have I! But today, we’re tourists, so act all amazed and shit!”

Joe’s lip twitched as he tried to not laugh, but he nodded, letting Jack take hold of his hand and drag him closer to the gates; clearly his boyfriend was determined to make the most of today.

“Why’re we here anyways?” Joe questions, slipping his fingers between Jack’s and leaning against his side as they come to a stop.

“Changing of the guards.” Jack nods towards the palace, where the guards are just starting their switch over routine.

And while the two watched the process, Joe felt himself relax. Maybe pretending to be tourists wouldn’t be too bad. Not with Jack at his side.

They remained there a short while after it finished, listening to a random tour guide spew off facts about the palace, both betting on which ones were real and which were fake, before Jack finally dragged Joe away.

“Where to next?”

“Big Ben.”

“Of course, how could we do London without seeing good ol’ Ben?”

“Don’t mock me, Joe.”

“I’m not!”



“Should we do cheesy photos like those tourists?” Joe asks as they lean against a half wall, gazing over at Big Ben and the tourists that had also gathered in the same spot.

“I think we could do cheesier.” Jack hums, his thumb brushing over the back of Joe’s knuckles.

“Is that a challenge?”

“It is now.” Jack grins, reaching into his pocket for his phone.

And so the couple spent the next ten to fifteen minutes taking progressively more ridiculous photos with Big Ben in the background.

They earned themselves some looks from other tourists, leaving the two boys in near tears from laughing so hard, their arms wrapped around each other and bodies leaning against one another as they stumbled away, their laughter drifting into the air.

“I think we just made their trip more memorable,” Joe gets out between fits of giggles, wiping away a tear from the corner of his eye.

“They’ll never forget London!” Jack adds, “That’s for sure!”

“And I don’t think I’ll look at London the same way again.”

“Good.” Jack grins, leaning over to kiss Joe, muffling the remaining laughter. “Now on to the next spot!”



The day went on in much the same fashion, with Jack dragging Joe around, the two of them acting like complete tourists, but both enjoying every moment of it.

They got lost in the crowd of Trafalgar Square, as well as having a quick chat with the lion statues, and of course posing for more ridiculous cheesy photos to laugh at later on. Then they had a small lunch in Hyde Park, relaxing in the warm sun and gentle breeze, smiling as they watched families wandering around. Jack insisted that tourist couples would make out in the park, and who was Joe to deny what a tourist would do when that was what he was for the day? Which meant they spent more time paying attention to each other than the actual park. Although neither had a complaint over that.

Following that, Jack took Joe to the Globe Theatre, watching as Joe’s blue eyes came to life as he talked about the thatched roof, smiling fondly at the older man and his ever existing passion for his previous job. Jack decided that was probably his favourite moment of the day, simply because of how happy and carefree Joe looked while explaining how the thatched roof was done.

To round out their touristy day, they took a trip around on the London Eye, not talking much as they took in the city spread out below them, the sun setting in the distance.

Before heading home, they picked up dinner to go, both preferring to laze around on the couch and eat rather than deal with a noisy restaurant.


Once their dinner had been eaten and photos had been looked over, the two curled up together on the couch, with Joe laying on top of Jack, his head resting against the younger man’s chest, familiar arms wrapped around him, and a steady heartbeat in his ear.

“Hey Jack?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Thanks for today.”

“You had fun, then?”

“I did. Gave me a new perspective on London too.”

“Glad you liked it.” Jack hums, his arms tightening slightly around Joe as he shifted. “You needed a day off.”

“I also needed a day with you.”

“You have me every day.”

“I know,” Joe sighs contently, his mind slowly drifting off, “But still, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

when yoongi was 9, he kept wondering why the parks were suddenly replaced by another family in their house. yoongi didn’t see jimin for a long time, wondered where he went because he couldn’t even say goodbye to his then only friend and neighbor. now, yoongi is 24, and he’s staring at a boy who looks so familiar standing in his patio, drinking something from a mug as he scrolls on his phone. when he looks up, he catches yoongi staring, smiles, puts his mug down on the little coffee table and jogs across the street right to where yoongi is in his own patio.

you don’t remember me?” the boy says in smooth english. yoongi stares at him for a while, and the boy opens his mouth again, speaking in korean this time. “yoongi-hyung, it’s jimin.” and yoongi felt really stupid because he could have sworn nobody smiled like jimin did. jimin. his jimin. his old best friend that mysteriously disappeared, went to america, and now he’s back.

yoongi’s laugh is shaky, feeling really embarrassed because jimin recognized him with one look, and yoongi didn’t. he doesn’t know how much time he has with jimin, but just like he always believed, first love never dies, and he didn’t even realize he missed someone he thought he already forgot. 

4

“…that don’t look like me, punk.”
“!? ‘Course it don’t, as if I’d ever draw you!”
“Well, he’s a looker, I’ll give 'im that. Smart chin. Who’s he?”
“Shut up.”  

Just… stop trying, Steve. Ssshh. Get kissed. Sit down. 

(Stucky ☆★ Palette #2 for memoryrecovery

3

Sherlock : The Great Game Imagine

Imagine if the little boy from the great game was replaced by the reader (Sherlock’s girlfriend who solves cases alongside both him and Watson) and Sherlock finds a way to save her.

Word count: 2998

Trigger warning: mention of gun shot inflicted wound

The pink phone rang in Sherlock’s pocket.
“Hello?” He spoke with impatience as it interrupted.
He was at the gallery, confronting the curator. He was confident the painting was a fake. At the other end of the phone was the voice of a female. What was unusual was that she wasn’t crying, only trembling.
“Have you solved my puzzle?” You spoke into the phone, repeating after the voice from ear piece placed in your ear. You told Sherlock and John you’d stay behind at 221B while they went to the gallery. Somehow you were knocked out cold and woke up wearing a bomb. You weren’t whimpering or sobbing, it was as if you weren’t afraid…or maybe you just had a lot of confidence in Sherlock. Sherlock realised what was happening at once.
“Y/N?” he spoke with a sense of urgency. Sherlock was obviously alarmed, he hadn’t expected this to happen. Lestrade’s eyes widened in horror when he finally understood. “ It’s Y/N, oh god”. John was at a loss of what to do. Sherlock knew he had to do something. He couldn’t lose you. He just couldn’t.
“The painting is a fake! It’s a fake! That’s why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed. Oh come on, proving it’s just a detail. The painting is a fake. I’ve solved it, I’ve figured it out. It’s a fake—that’s the answer, that’s why they were killed.” There was no reply in the ear piece. Naturally, you didn’t speak either. Any wrong move could get you and anyone near by killed and you couldn’t risk anything like that. Sherlock was getting nervous. The Great Sherlock Holmes was worried over you. He cared. He cared about you.
“Okay, I’ll prove it. Give me time. Will you give me time?” The voice in the year piece started the count down. “Ten” you said slowly, starting to doubt you’d make it. Please, Sherlock, please help me.
“Ten. It’s a countdown. He’s giving me time.” But was ten seconds enough? “Jesus!” Lestrade exclaimed. “The painting is a fake, but how can I prove it? How? How? ” Sherlock needed to get this right. He needed to save you.
“Nine…Eight …” Come on, Sherlock, come on! You were starting to lose hope. “Y/N will die. I can’t let that happen. She will die because of me. Tell me why the painting is a fake. Tell me! ” Sherlock raised voice. He was worried. He was angry.
“Seven …” You started to count slower. You can do this, Sherlock. “No, shut up. Don’t say anything. It only works if I figure it out.” He gestured for the curator to shut up. Sherlock turned back to the painting. He thought hard. He needed this. He couldn’t lose you. He was determined to prove the painting was fake, frustrated that he just couldn’t figure it out. Unable to stand the tension, John began to pace around. The thought of losing you was frightening. He tried to block it out, so did Lestrade. “Must be possible. Must be staring me in the face.”
“Six … ” Shit, Sherlock hurry up! “Come on. ” John tried to calm himself down. The thought of losing you was daunting, and it was about to become a reality in just a few seconds. “Woodbridge knew, but how?”
“ Five …” Your counting was speeding up as you followed the voice from the ear piece. “It’s speeding up!” Lestrade tensed up. “Sherlock.” John muttered. Come on, Do this for Y/N. You can’t lose her. Sherlock thought to himself. Sherlock couldn’t lose you. You were one of his only friends, and his girlfriend. “Oh!” His mouth fell open.
“Four … Three…” Yes! Sherlock did it! “In the planetarium! You heard it too. Oh, that is brilliant! That is gorgeous!” “What’s Brilliant? What is?” John was lost. “This is beautiful. I love this! ” he grinned triumphantly, having solved it.
“Two …” Come on, Sherlock, do it already! “Sherlock!” Lestrade was urged Sherlock. “The Van Buren Supernova!” Sherlock yelled into the phone. “ Sherlock, help me!” You screamed into the phone. Before he could reply and before you could say anything else, you realised a gun was held to your head.
It was Molly’s boyfriend. It dawned on you. Jim. Jim Moriarty.
He took the phone and spoke into it. “ Well Done, Sherlock”
“What did you do to her!” Sherlock yelled into the phone.
“ Why are you doing this” Sherlock asked. “Why does anyone do anything? Because I’m bored. We were meant for each other, Sherlock. Did you enjoy my game?” He hung up. You looked up at him, he had a cruel, deranged smile plastered across
his face. “Why” you whimpered before he knocked you out with the butt of his gun.
The next thing you remembered was waking up to the smell of chlorine. The voice in the ear piece told you to walk out, where you found Sherlock waiting. “Brought you a little “getting to know you” present. Oh, that’s what it’s all been for isn’t it? All your little puzzles, making me dance. All to distract me from this.” You heard Sherlock speak.
“Evening. This is a turn up, isn’t it, Sherlock?” You copied exactly as the voice in the the ear piece said. You saw the look in Sherlock’s eyes, he was hurt, he was lost. He looked like a little lost child for a second, confused. Then he saw the explosives under your jacket. “Bet you never saw this coming. What would you like me to make her say next? Gottle o’ geer. Gottle o’ Geer…”
“Stop it.” Sherlock snapped. “Nice touch this, the pool. Where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop your dear Y/N too. Stop her heart.” You whimpered, you felt like a pawn, any wrong move and you’re dead. “Who are you?” Sherlock questioned.
“I gave you my number. I thought you might call. Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket? Or are you just pleased to see me?” Jim appeared across the pool with a smirk on his face. “Both.” Sherlock replied.
“Jim Moriarty. Hi. Jim? Jim from the hospital? Huh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then I suppose that was rather the point. Don’t be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don’t like getting my hands dirty. I’ve given you a glimpse, Sherlock—just a teensy glimpse—of what I’ve got going on out there in the big bad world. I’m a specialist, you see. Like you.” He cooed, something about him made your hair stand in its edge.
“Dear Jim, Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover’s nasty sister.” “Dear Jim, Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America.” Was Sherlock’s reply.
“Just so.”
“Consulting criminal. Brilliant.”
“Isn’t it? No one ever gets to me. And no one ever will.”
“I did.”
“You’ve come the closest. Now you’re in my way.”
“Thank you”
“ Didn’t mean it as a compliment.”
“Yes you did.”
You kept as silent as possible this whole time, listening attentively to their conversation.
“Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting’s over, Sherlock. Daddy’s had enough now! I’ve shown you what I can do. I’ve cut loose all those people, all those little problems. Even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off. Although. I have loved this. This little game of ours. Playing Jim from IT. Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?” Moriarty sang.
“People have died” Sherlock pointed out.
“That’s what people DO!” Moriarty shouted, his voice echoing off the walls of the room. You flinched at his scream. Both men seemed to have noticed your reaction. Moriarty gave you a wide grin, your fate depended on him. Sherlock’s green/ blue eyes gazed into yours as an attempt to comfort you.
“I will stop you.” He said. “No you won’t.
"You all right?” Sherlock looked at you, obviously worried.
“You can talk, Y/N, sweetheart. Go ahead.” You didn’t dare to speak.
“Take it.” Sherlock passed Moriarty a memory stick.
“ Hm? Oh, that. The missile plans. Boring! I could have got them anywhere.” Moriarty tossed the memory stick into the pool. Taking the chance, you grabbed Moriarty by his neck and screamed “Sherlock run!”.
To your surprise, Moriarty simply cooed “ Oh! Good. Very good.” You said “Just like that. Pull that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, and we both go up.”
“ She’s sweet, I can see why you like having her around. But then people do get so sentimental about their pets. They’re so touching and loyal. But oops! You’ve rather shown your hand there, my dear Y/N . Gotcha!” The red sight on your jacket movies to Sherlock’s head. You had to let go.
“Westwood. Do you know what happens if you don’t leave me alone, Sherlock? To you.” He seemed unfazed.
“Oh let me guess, I get killed.”
“ Kill you? Eh, no. Don’t be obvious. I mean I’m going to kill you anyway someday. I don’t want to rush it though. I’m saving it up for something special. No no no no. If you don’t stop prying I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you.”
“I have been reliably informed that I don’t have one.”
Upon hearing that, Moriarty instantly replied “But we both know that’s not quite true.” As if to demonstrate his point, more laser sights moved to your jacket and you whimpered as you closed your eyes. Sherlock’s eyes softened. They looked anxious and afraid. The great Sherlock Holmes, afraid. At least you knew he cared. That he still valued your relationship, that he still loved you. You knew he cared even though he claimed not to. Why else would he be here? Why else would he personally come for you?
“Well. I’d better be off. So nice to have had a proper chat.” Moriarty sang.
“What if I were to shoot you now? Right now.”
“Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face. Because I’d be surprised, Sherlock. Really I would. And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldn’t be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes.” Moriarty proudly left.
“Catch you… later.” Sherlock said.
“No you won’t!” Moriarty only chirped.
As he left, Sherlock frantically ripped the vest off you and slid it as far from you as possible, “Alright? Are you all right?!” He pulled you into a tight hug.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Sherlock— Sherlock! Are you okay?”
“ Me? Yeah. Fine. Fine. That, ah— thing that you did. That you, um, you offered to do. That was, um… good. But please don’t go it again. I can’t afford to lose you” Sherlock’s eyes were sincere. He was relieved that you were no longer in danger.
“I’m glad no one saw that.” You attempted to lighten the mood.
“Hm?”
“You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk.” You joked.
“People do little else.” You grinned at his reply.
Then, the laser sights returned, this time there were more.
“Sorry boys! I’m soooo changeable! It is a weakness with me. But to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can’t be allowed to continue. You just can’t. I would try to convince you. Everything I have to say has already crossed your mind.” You sighed and rolled your eyes. Not again, you thought.
“Probably my answer has crossed yours.” Sherlock replied, moving his gun down to the level of the explosives. Moriarty’s smirk disappeared.
Before you knew what happeneed, a sharp pain ran through your body and you collapsed to your knees. Grasping your stomache in pain, you screamed out as you realised that you had been shot. Sherlock immediately lowered his gun to run to your side.
“Shit!” Sherlock mumbled under his breath as he held you in his arms. You heard Moriarty say something before he waved off his men and left. The laser sights disappeared again.
“ Y/N! Sherlock!” You heard John’s voice as entered the pool. He had followed Sherlock here, you thought. “Call a taxi, quick!” Sherlock shouted at John.
Everything was a blur as Sherlock carried you (bridal style) into the taxi and screamed frantically for the driver to fetch the, to the nearest hospital. John checked the gunshot wound and attempted to stop the bleeding but to no avail. “She’s losing a lot of blood” John said, you could hear the anxious tone from his voice.
“Could you drive faster, PLEASE” Sherlock raised his voice. It was obvious that he was very worried. You recalled that earlier that day, he claimed he found it easy not to care. That this was all a game, the people were merely pawns. You were a pawn. Sherlock felt nothing for those people, it was just a game. He enjoyed playing this game. He told you not to make people into heroes and that heroes didn’t exist. He said that if they do, he wouldn’t be one of them. But Sherlock came for you, not because it was a game. The moment he picked up the phone and realised that your life was at stake, it was no longer a game. Sherlock cared deeply about you, and he solved the problem,he solved it for you, he saved you. Sherlock was your hero. Tears welled up in your eyes, you were beginning to feel faint.
“Hey, Stay with me, don’t you dare close your eyes, are you even listening to me?” Sherlock cooed into your ear. He was still holding you in his arms, with you partially lying on his lap. You leaned into his embrace and lay your head right under his chin. He wrapped one arm around you and grasped your hand desperately with his other hand. He held you tightly, he didn’t want to let go. His warmth was comforting, it was somewhat soothing. You were comfortable in his embrace.
“ Sherlock, do you still remember that night you told me you fancied me?” You let out a chuckle through the pain. “ you were so confused and… and you took everything like a game, like you had to deduce yourself that you must indeed be interested in me to be feeling those emotions, do you still feel the same way?” You whimpered as you felt a sharp pain and grasped your wound.
Sherlock squeezed your hand and replied “ I do, I still feel the same. I love you, I can’t lose you now, please don’t leave me. I never thought I’d fall in love until I met you. i’ll do anything to make sure you’re safe. Please don’t die now. It’s all my fault, I should have noticed Moriarty would get you, I should have. We should have never been together.” a tear rolled down Sherlock’s cheek. You looked up at him and wiped off his tear with your thumb, adding “Hey, look at me. Don’t say that, I never regretted the times we spent together. I’ll cherish the times John, you and I solved cases together… and the sense of achievement I’d get from it” John gazed at your eyes, it seemed as if he was about to cry too. Beads of tears trickled down your boiling cheeks.
“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me” Sherlock replied, it sounded almost as if he was sobbing.
“ Look at you, the great Sherlock Holmes, letting his emotions get to him, the great Sherlock Holmes is heartbroken. This is what Moriarty wants, he wants to tear you apart, and your letting him do it. Don’t cry” You gave him a weak smile. It took you a lot of effort to even say those things. You winced in pain as you felt yourself drifting away.
Sherlock lifted your chin and pulled you into a kiss. Your lips moved in sync, it felt sad though, it might just be your last kiss. Then Sherlock pulled away, he gazed deeply into your eyes. You could see the affection in his eyes, he obviously cared about you. You also saw sadness and anxiety. “Look, Y/N, if you make it through this, I promise we’ll get married” He seemed entirely serious. You chuckled “ Sherlock, you’re always so childish and impulsive. Are you proposing to me right now?”
“I’m serious, Y/N.” came his reply. You realised how much he valued you. He loved you dearly, it was all so clear now.
“ Look Sherlock, I’m not ready to die yet. I promise you I won’t leave you or John okay?” You gave him a weak smile, a failed attempt to comfort him. It wasn’t up to you to decide your fate, but you were determined to see Sherlock and John again. You felt Sherlock hug you tighter and you drifted away in his embrace.
You woke up to the sound of the hospital equipment beating. You were alright, at least you didn’t die. Familiar faces surrounded you — there was Lestrade by the corner near the door, Mrs Hudson and John by the end of the hospital bed. Sherlock was by your side. He squeezed your hand tightly and helped you get up. You winced as you felt the sharp pain from your wound, Sherlock was extremely gentle with you.
“What time is it?” You asked.
“8.30. You slept for a day. Feel better?”
He gave you a small smile and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You attempted to pull him into a hug.
“ Did you stay with me this whole time?” You asked.
“He refused to do anything else” John helped to reply.
“We’ll give you two some time” said Mrs Hudson as she and the others left the room. John walked towards the door before turning back. “Hamish… John Hamish Watson… If you’re looking for baby names”. Sherlock and you turned towards each other and broke into relieved smiles.