UItimate Sherlolly weaknesses:

  • Molly wearing Sherlock’s Belstaff and practically drowning in it, but wearing it anyway because it’s warm and is actually kind of comforting.
  • Sherlock and Toby battling over who gets Molly’s lap.
  • Molly stroking Sherlock’s curls and slightly massaging his scalp to help him think or help him sleep.
  • Sherlock hiding his smiles when Molly keeps making terrible jokes in the morgue because he’s working dammit but he still allows her to do them because he secretly loves them.
  • Molly and Sherlock curling up on the sofa and falling asleep.
  • Sherlock kissing Molly because he can’t think of anything else to say to her.
  • Molly kissing Sherlock when he’s just made an amazing deduction.
  • Sherlock trying to say “I’m sorry” with ever more elaborate gifts.
  • Molly not accepting said gifts until he actually apologizes.
  • Sherlock or Molly taking each by surprise with really intense make-out sessions.
  • Sherlock kissing Molly’s forehead, or nose, or jawline.
  • Molly quietly giving Sherlock body parts so he doesn’t get bored when he’s without a case.
  • Sherlock subconsciously hugging Molly closer when they’re sleeping.
  • Sherlock nuzzling at Molly’s cheek and kissing at her neck.
  • Sherlock listening in rapture as Molly goes into really detailed reports about her most gruesome autopsies.
  • Molly listening in rapture as Sherlock tells her all about his most intriguing cases.
  • Molly using her days off to help Sherlock with his experiments.
  • Sherlock finding the sight of Molly in science goggles distractingly hot.
  • Molly really loving the sight of Sherlock in jeans.
  • Molly finding Sherlock asleep on the sofa or in his mind palace and merely shaking her head and kissing him on the forehead because she loves and understands him.
  • Sherlock unexpectedly dragging Molly down to him and kissing her.
  • Sherlock and Molly kisses quickly turning into spontaneous sofa/kitchen/bedroom/bathroom sex.
  • Molly assisting Sherlock on the cases deemed “too weird”.
  • Basically Sherlock and Molly.
In Starlit Nights - OccasionallyCreative - Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

New Reylo story! Well, not really a new story, just a 500-word short I’ve edited and expanded on and posted to AO3 when it’s late and I have poor judgement skills. But still! Thing!


Sherlock + Shakespearean characters (insp.)

Reasons behind choices (which I’m aware will differ from the opinions of others, but I did try to stick to how the canon shows these characters, and not the fanon interpretations):

Sherlock Holmes // Iago, Othello: “For I am nothing, if not critical.” Both Sherlock and Iago, as characters, use their intellect and their wits as their main weapon. They are cold and distant, and often see other people as commodities rather human beings (Iago to advance his plans, Sherlock to alleviate his boredom). They aren’t afraid of manipulating others, even people close to them, in order to get their way and to win in a conflict. However, the difference comes in that Iago’s machinations throughout Othello come from a place of deep jealousy, whereas Sherlock is shown on some occasions to have compassion for others and be highly aware of what others think of him, which can lead him down dark paths.

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anonymous asked:

How can you not ship johnlock? Its the main ship! Cant you see all the sexual tension between sherlocak and john? And they are constantly eyefucking. And sherlock and molly dont even show affection for eachother? They only kissed in andersons reichenbach theory! And sherlock only told molly she mattered so that he could survive the fall, if she really mattered to him then a gun would have been pointed at her too. I dont blame your for shipping sherlolly, you wouldnt know any better.

Molly woke to the sound of tapping. Angry, quick tapping.

Blinking herself awake from sleep, she pulled the sheets closer to her chest and raised her head to see that her consulting detective was sat up in bed, laptop balanced precariously on his propped up knees. He frowned deeply as his fingers moved across the keyboard in a blur.

“Sherlock,” she asked with a soft sigh, propping herself with an elbow as she looked at him. “What are you doing?”

“Busy,” he growled, but the word was swiftly followed by a familiar chime of of an email notification. Molly gave a groan and fell back onto the bed.

“Not the chat rooms again.” She ran her hands over her face in a mild display of despair. “Please not the chat rooms.”

“Not the chat rooms,” he said curtly, briefly glancing at her. “Tumblr.”

“That’s even worse.”

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anonymous asked:

Prompt If you want it:): Sherlock and Molly become engaged, however, their relationship was not the most known among their friends and collegues. They end up having to deal with people not being the most congratulatory to the couple (marrying Sherlock Holmes?! Heartbreak waiting to happen.) Ensue: Sherlock & Molly having hurt feelings and having a much needed cuddle. <3

I can only manage short stuff nowadays. Hope that’s alright!

The door to the kitchen bangs open and her coat and scarf are thrown onto the chair opposite and she grumbles as she sets about making her coffee. Sherlock, sat at the table, holds his newspaper in his hands and watches her. It takes him less than a minute, before the kettle has even boiled, to stand up and walk over to her and wrap his arms around her waist. She sinks into his touch with a sigh, her eyes closing and her fingers instinctively clasp around his arms, stroking at his skin.

“More comments I suppose.” He kisses her neck.

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anonymous asked:

Drunk sherlock always manages to cheer me up.

Molly had looked forward to a quiet night in. The banging at the door indicated that would most certainly not be happening. When Molly wrenched it open however, she was met not by a cool and intense gaze but blurred, narrowed eyes and an expression that wouldn’t look out of place on a lost puppy.

“Oxygen!” Sherlock blurted out, slumping against the door frame. Her brows furrowed. He tried again.

“Oxy—Oxygen! No! Oxy—oxy somethin’…”

Molly raised an eyebrow. His eyes lit up.

“Oxytocin! That’s it! Oxytocin.” In a gesture she was sure he thought to be debonair and elegant, he took a stumbling step towards her, a lopsided smile on his mouth.

“You, Molly Hooper, are oxytocin. That’s what you are.”

Molly nodded slowly and allowed him to cup her cheek. Gently, she touched at his hand and kissed his palm.

“Of course I am, Sherlock. C’mon now—let’s get you to bed.”

With a degree of difficulty, she supported his weight (why were drunk people always so much heavier?) and steered him towards the bedroom. He dropped onto the bed with another uncharacteristic giggle and proceeded to make a mess of taking off his shoes—a mess that only ended in him stroking the wooden floor and mumbling about the time it would take for smoke inhalation to take place. Molly sighed and knelt before him, quietly beginning to unlace his shoes. Sherlock let out a whine as he leaned back.

“What is it?” Molly asked, slipping his shoes off from his feet.

“Should’ve… should marry you…” Sherlock muttered, touching at his neck. Molly smiled and got to her feet, pressing a tender kiss to his lips.

"You did,” she whispered, sinking her fingers into his hair. When he narrowed his eyes in disbelief, she took a hold of his hand and held it up for him to see. His golden wedding band shone in the evening light.

“Oh!” he said and he looked to her, his expression having switched from lost puppy to happy puppy. “I’m cleverer than I thought.”

“Yes you are. Now go to sleep.”

Sherlock petulantly shook his head, his hands wandering towards her hips before he buried his face into her waist. “Want you. You’re warm.”

“I know,” Molly said softly as she pushed Sherlock onto the bed and, with a degree of effort, shifted him so he was stretched out. She turned to leave, but before she could react, she found herself falling back onto the bed and being pulled towards the sleepy drunken pile of limbs that was her husband.

“Oxytocin,” he murmured again, nuzzling his nose against her cheek and he dropped a kiss onto her neck before he slipped into sleep. Molly sighed, but couldn’t help but smile.

After all, there were far worse nicknames someone could have.

Spoilers for TAB.

He was so confident when he’d got off the plane. He knew what Moriarty would do next, he knew his next steps, there was a plan in his head and yet— it disappears here. Everything. The ideas, the plans, it all melts away.

The colour of her door changes from time to time. The first time he faced it, it was red. The shade of cherry, like that damned cardigan of hers. Two years later, he faced it again and found it black. She told him, with a faint laugh and a smile, that she’d fancied a change.

“Hm,” had been his reply. An impolite grunt to show he was half-listening when, in reality, most of his attention was focused on her hand, his eyes taking glimpses as she flexed her fingers against the rounded china of her tea mug, gripping it tight to drink. Every time, his gaze had met the spark and the silver of an engagement ring.

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The Stages of Trying to Get Your Little Brother to Solve a Case for You:

Important documents have been recently been lost. Suspected mole in the Cabinet. The Prime Minister wishes you to retrieve them. – MH

It has been three weeks since your last case. Surely you must be getting bored by now. – MH

The freedom of the Western world is under threat, Sherlock. Answer your phone. – MH

I will tell Mummy. – MH


Sherlock AU: Sherlock Holmes is forced to go to rural France and oversee the selling of his parents’ old chateau and vineyard. He thinks it’s going to be a quick process, and that he’ll be out of there within the week. However, when he clashes with a stubborn yet sweet woman, he discovers that, sometimes, it’s better to slow down and savour the moments life throws at you.

The tiny car zoomed easily along the quiet country roads of rural France, its small engine barely making an interruption against the tranquillity of the fields and the meadows. Yet the driver, sweat dripping from his forehead, growled deeply as he punched a series of numbers into his phone. On the driver’s console, a map, intelligible and unreadable, flashed up uselessly.

“Aller tout droit,” the soft voice of the satellite navigation commanded. “Aller tout droit, aller tout…”

“Shut up!” the driver snapped, pressing the phone to his ear. Only two rings sounded before the intended recipient of his anger answered.

“Mary Watson speaking.”

“You did this deliberately, admit it.”

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anonymous asked:

Still taking prompts? Love your fics :)... Another detective starts coming to see Molly regularly as his go-to pathologist. I wonder if anyone might be jealous of that? ;)

Also for the anon who requested Jealous!Sherlock. So sorry for the delay in filling this prompt! My inbox has been a bit stuffed lately.

“Molly!” Sherlock barked as he swooped inside the morgue. “I need that body, believe the name’s Tara Jen—” He stuttered to a halt at the sight that befell him. To anyone else, it would have seemed perfectly innocent. Just Molly helping out another detective. To Sherlock Holmes however, it was akin to a subtle declaration of war. He cleared his throat and stepped forward, tapping Molly on the shoulder. She smiled briefly at him.

“Just a minute, Sherlock. Wait outside, won’t you?”

Sherlock frowned and looked to the man opposite him. He was tall, muscular in build with short cropped hair. Former military then.

“Who are you?” he asked shortly, tucking his hands behind his back.

“Oh!” the man said brightly. He moved around the table towards Sherlock, sticking out his hand. “Name’s Barker. You’re Sherlock Holmes, aren’t you? Big fan, big fan.”

For a long moment, Sherlock stared at the man who had so brusquely and clumsily invaded his morgue. He didn’t take his hand. Barker chuckled nervously and let it drop back to his side.

“I was just getting some help from Molly, with my latest case. Very efficient—much more than some of the others around here!” he said with another banal chuckle.

Sherlock departed without another word.

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AU MEME // Star!Molly.

Centuries ago, a King sacrificed the stone that marked his reign out of grief for the wife he had loved so greatly. It flew into the stratosphere and marked itself against the star that always shone the brightest: the Evening Star.
Falling to Earth, the star found herself alone and in the cold. Abandoned by her sisters and alone in this strange new world, she took on the mantle of Molly Hooper and made her way through the life that had been given to her, learning about the mortal world she had only ever admired from afar.
Finally, years later, she found someone. Someone as bright and as observant and as intelligent as her. Through him, she learned the joy and pain of unrequited love.
Yet Sherlock Holmes was far more observant than the star gave him credit. He knew she had a secret, and he became determined to find out what it was. He investigated her–pursued her–until finally, out of her love for him, she confessed her fall to Earth. She believed he would spurn her; be frightened by her.
He defied every expectation. For instead of running, he stayed. He stayed to see the world through the eyes of a star.

I made this post yesterday, some people asked for it to be extrapolated into a fic, so I wrote this little thing as a way back into fluff.

“You’re to be – married?” John spluttered, jumping to his feet among the mess of Baker Street. His face bloomed red, soon transmogrifying into a delightful puce colour. “And you didn’t think to tell us?”

Sherlock blinked, made a mixture of curious and amused by the reaction of his best friend to the announcement. He glanced to John’s side, where Mary was still serenely sat upon the sofa. “Mrs Watson, tell your husband to sit down before he has a heart attack.”

“To be fair to my husband,” Mary replied coolly, “to suddenly announce to us you’re to be married is quite a shock.”

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Uncle Mycroft is my weakness.

Mycroft meeting his niece/nephew for the first time.

Mycroft immediately falling in love with his niece/nephew basically as soon as they smile at him.

Mycroft pretending he isn’t actually as emotionally attached as everyone knows him to be but still sending anonymous gifts to 221b on the regular, all of them top of the range and obviously from him.

Molly and Sherlock deciding not to say anything, but allowing the gifts to continue, because they’re actually really rather helpful in the raising of their newborn baby.

Mycroft visiting 221b with increasingly rubbish excuses, just so he can see his niece/nephew.

Mycroft finally being told by Molly that he doesn’t need an excuse to visit, much to Sherlock’s consternation, who loves seeing his older brother squirm.

Mycroft and Sherlock competing over who gets to hold the baby.

Mycroft and Sherlock arguing over every last detail of the child’s first birthday party, and consequently all the birthday parties after that.

Molly allowing the Holmes brothers to argue whilst she actually organises the birthday parties with Mary and John’s help.

Mycroft learning of Sherlock’s sewing competition with the leader of the Yummy Mummy club at his niece/nephew’s primary school and helping out, smugly pointing out how much better he is than Sherlock at it.

Mycroft casually remarking how alike his niece/nephew is to Sherlock in his younger years.

Mycroft learning and using the secret handshake from The Parent Trap with his niece/nephew.

Mycroft’s niece/nephew handing him a splodged painting of a stick man, proudly claiming it to be a portrait of him.

Mycroft congratulating them on the painting and Anthea finding it stuck to his fridge later on.

Mycroft encouraging his niece/nephew with every achievement they make, all way through nursery and up to university.

Mycroft secretly helping his niece/nephew find their very own “goldfish” and denying everything when his niece/nephew finally twigs what he’s up to.

Mycroft giving a little smile as he watches his niece/nephew getting married, knowing that his mission to look after them is now complete.

You can blame Benedict Cumberbatch, Louise Brealey and Letters Live for this.

EDIT: Molly’s replying letter can be found here.

Dear Molly,

The journey towards the front has been arduous, at best. The other men have been singing Vera Lynn’s “We’ll Meet Again” almost non-stop since our company’s departure. John has joined in once or twice with them; he claimed it was to boost morale, but I doubt it. I’ve caught him looking at his picture of Mary once or twice.

I find myself thinking of you.

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anonymous asked:

prompt: lestrade or john catch sherlock checking out molly :)

“The thief sent another message, coded. A team’s trying to decipher it now—Sherlock.”

Nothing. Lestrade tried again, a little louder the second time. Still nothing. Finally, he cleared his throat. This time, his efforts were rewarded with a small I’m-going-to-pretend-to-listen grunt. Lestrade rolled his eyes as Molly stood up straight, gathering her files in her arms. She blushed furiously.

“I’m so sorry for that—I’m so clumsy sometimes—”

“It’s fine,” Greg said with a smile. Molly heaved a sigh of relief and glanced to Sherlock, who immediately began to look very interested in the sample under his microscope.

“I was about to get some coffee. Want one?” she asked brightly. He nodded.


“Two sugars. I remember! See you later Greg!” she called over her shoulder as she turned to leave. Greg looked back to Sherlock to find that the consulting detective’s gaze had gone back to zeroing in on Molly. Specifically, her arse.

He didn’t stop looking until the lab door swung closed behind her.

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Sherlock staring at the wallpaper for hours on end.

Sherlock tracing the shapes of the wallpaper pattern with his fingertips.

John asking what the hell Sherlock is doing.

Sherlock explaining that he’s channeling his Man Pain for Molly through the wallpaper.

John wondering what planet his friend’s landed on.

Sherlock claiming he must say nothing because of Man Pain.

John telling Sherlock he’s an idiot.

Mary forcibly dragging Sherlock to St. Bart’s by the ear.

Molly greeting them in surprise.

Mary locking Sherlock and Molly in the lab.

Sherlock rattling off deductions to Molly in a rambling attempt to tell Molly how he feels.

Sherlock comparing Molly to the wallpaper as he rambles.

Molly raising an eyebrow.

Sherlock apologising.

Molly raising another eyebrow.

Sherlock saying he didn’t mean it.

Molly giggling.

Sherlock frowning, confused.

Molly saying she loves him too.

Sherlock grinning.

Molly doing what she’s always wanted to do and kissing him.

Sherlock taking Molly back to 221b.

Molly suffering a fit of giggles at seeing the wallpaper.

Sherlock blushing beetroot, before rolling his eyes and dragging Molly to the bedroom.

Sherlock tracing the shape of Molly with his fingertips.

Molly being far more responsive than any wallpaper.

Sherlock saying “sorry” over and over again.

Molly telling him to shut up and kiss her.

anonymous asked:

Mycroft finds out his sister-in-law is pregnant before anyone does,even before world's only consulting detective. And he gots a little enthusiastic over the thought of being an uncle,of course in his own way. Maybe in a family dinner...

Although Molly had attended many of the Holmes family dinners during her relationship with Sherlock, this was perhaps the strangest one she had experienced yet.

It was the fault of Mycroft. Usually at these types of things, he would pick at his food and occasionally threaten to start a war whenever his mother began to discuss (what he believed to be) a particularly boring subject. This time however, Mycroft seemed to be fully engaged with the conversation, chatting airily with his parents whilst he sipped at his wine and took regular bites of his roast dinner.

“Yes, terrible business about the Miller daughter, I’m sure Mother. But her marriage was only in its infancy, after all, so I doubt there’ll be too much damage,” Mycroft said with a smile. Molly frowned as she stabbed at another roast potato. Although he was smiling at his mother, she couldn’t help but feel that the elder Holmes brother’s comment had been directed at her in some way.

Violet Holmes gave a sympathetic sigh. “But think of the children. They’ll have two addresses now. And they’re so young too.”

“Practically babies,” Mycroft said, nodding slightly.

“Divorces happen all the time,” Sherlock said shortly, quickly losing impatience with his family’s idle chatter. “And why are you so interested in the Millers, dear brother of mine? I believe they were on your list of boring subjects last year.”

Mycroft shrugged. “I admit I was a little bit immature, yes. Some might say I was… childish, even.” Another comment Molly was sure was directed at her. Sherlock frowned and he circled a hand around Molly’s free one, his thumb subconsciously stroking over her silver wedding band.

“I’m sure she’ll back on her feet in no time at all,” Gregory Holmes said brightly as he rose to his feet. “Anyone for some more wine?”

“Is it vintage?” Mycroft inquired, but his father shook his head.

“Only got it in today, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, so it’s a rather youthful wine.”

Gregory nodded. “The vintage wine I’m keeping for a special occasion.”

Mycroft considered this for a moment before he gave a quick shrug. “Some might consider this a special occasion, Father.”

Sherlock sighed. “Mycroft, what are you talking about, this is a—” He stopped short, glanced towards Molly, back to his brother and back to Molly again, where his hand shot out and covered her wine glass. When she spluttered for an explanation, he continued to glare at his brother.

“You complete and utter arse. You could’ve said earlier!”

Mycroft smiled innocently. “I was simply waiting for the right moment.”

After a moment of silence, Molly cleared her throat and tapped her husband on the shoulder. “Okay, Sherlock. You’re going to have to update me. Why are we cross with Mycroft? I mean, I get that you’re normally cross with him but—could you please get your hand off my glass?”

Sherlock shook his head, still glaring at his brother. “Not possible.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Violet said with a wave of her hand. “Let your wife drink her wine, Sherlock.”

Mycroft turned his trademark thin smile towards his sister-in-law. “Molly, I wouldn’t become too cross with your husband. He’s only being his overly protective self.”

“I still don’t get it.”

The elder Holmes looked back to his young brother, and arched an eyebrow. Sherlock humphed slightly and looked to his wife. A hidden smile twitched at his lips and his gaze dropped momentarily towards her stomach before he looked back to her.

“Molly, it seems that we are to have a baby.”

Slowly, Molly nodded as she looked around at the shocked faces sat around the table—except Mycroft who merely looked utterly pleased with himself—and she swallowed slightly.

“Oh. Baby. Okay. Right.”

There was a small thump on the floor as Molly quietly fainted.

Sherlock and Molly’s six year old daughter comes home from school crying because she’s been teased about the fact that Molly and Sherlock haven’t yet got married. And when Sherlock and Molly realise this, they cuddle her and tell her that marriage isn’t exactly a necessity, but more of a choice that some couples make and others don’t, and love exists anyway–regardless of name or marital status.

And then Molly remarks that living with Sherlock Holmes for 10 years doesn’t necessitate a marriage certificate but more of a medal, causing their daughter to giggle and agree, leaving Sherlock to playfully pout.

anonymous asked:

sherlolly prompt for when you feel like writing: tickle war (featuring sherlock being a sore loser)

“Blood pressure is normal, which is excellent for someone in your—” Sherlock shifted his shoulders slightly and swallowed thickly. Molly’s fingers continued to walk their way up his back and across his shoulder blades. He let out a shaking breath. “In your state. Molly, please concentrate, this is important.”

“I am concentrating,” Molly said all-too-sweetly. Her fingers traced at the nape of his neck. “You have a lovely neck, you know.”

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