especially when he's angry on sherlock

Brother, Annoying Brother - Request

Requested by anon:  A Sherlock x reader where Sherlock is inlove with the reader, but wouldn’t admit it. Mycroft knows about it and makes Sherlock jealous by flirting with the reader. So he would confess. They’re working on a case with mycroft

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Word count: 1,312

Warnings: Un-edited.

A/N: I loved writing this.

Enjoy!

Originally posted by imaginesherlock

Working along with Mycroft was never ever part of the plan. He wasn’t a ninja, a field soldier, or a detective; Mycroft was the kind of man to order whatever he needed via mobile and get in on a silver platter, and that was one of the things that frustrated Sherlock the most.

“You’re ruining the case!” Sherlock fumed. He loved searching for clues, and doing his own research and Mycroft had gotten all of the information with just one phone call.

“No, I solved half of it quickly. It’s called being efficient.” Mycroft replied bitterly.

“Boys…” (Y/N) called their attention as she appeared at the door with a letter in hand.

“What is it, (Y/N)?” Sherlock asked and Mycroft was surprised by the soft tone he had used; completely different to the one used against him two seconds before.

“A man gave me this for you, Sher.” She explained, handing the letter to him. Sherlock instantly recognized it as a clue from the criminal they were after.

“Did he hurt you? Did he say anything at all? How does he look like?” Sherlock inquired as a preoccupied look invaded his gaze; Mycroft took the letter off his brother’s hands, but was too focused on Sherlock’s behaviour.

“I’m fine; I don’t think that’s your criminal.” She said, softly. Mycroft noticed how their eyes were strictly staring into the other’s eyes like there was nothing else around. “More like a messenger.”

“You’re right.” Sherlock nodded, clearing his throat and returning to his usual superiority posture. He took the letter off Mycroft’s hands and analysed it carefully.

(Y/N) excused herself a few minutes after, claiming that she had plans with Mrs. Hudson and Mary. Mycroft used it for his advantage, making sure to give his little brother the most obvious and annoying knowing look the world has ever seen.

“What?” Sherlock groaned angrily.

“You fancy her.” Mycroft observed.

“Of course I fancy her, she’s a good friend.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“No, you fancy her like more than a friend.” Sherlock froze for a second but ignored his brother. “I’m not saying that I understand because I’ve never been a man of too many feelings, but you… You were always a sentimental.”

“Shut up, I’m working.” Sherlock ordered as he continued to analyse the pictures the forensic department had sent him.

Keep reading

The Game is Afoot

Summary: What could happen if Sherlock gets high and goes off his rails? Could you stop him? Well…things seem to get a little bit weird.

(Based on Sherlock’s ‘Henry V’ monologue – The Lying Detective)

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Title: ‘The Game is Afoot’

Content: The “Henry V” scene from “The Lying Detective” / Humour / Angst / Mild swearing

Warning: If you haven’t seen the fourth season of Sherlock, please do NOT read this one-shot. (Unless spoilers don’t bother you.) / Mild swearing

Word count: 5.372 (Oh, I’m on fire!)

A/N: Right. I based this on ‘The Lying Detective’. I TOTALLY loved this episode and I think that the ‘Henry V’ speech was the best scene from it. I mean, Benedict gave his best when portraying this crazy, maniac, yet amazing Sherlock Holmes. He REALLY should have won the Emmy for ‘Outstanding Lead Actor In A Limited Series or Movie’. Hope you like it. - xo

*gif not mine

DEDICATED to : @sherlockedpottersimagines and @sherlock-one-shots


And there you were, walking down Baker Street while talking on the phone with Molly.

“So…you think that John may be a little bit concerned about Sherlock?”

“A little bit? Do you really know Sherlock?”

“Well, let’s say I know how we met and how he couldn’t stop asking me for a second opinion so he could solve a crime of his.”

“Ok…good job,” she giggled. “Nobody gets Sherlock’s attention when he’s thinking.”

“Do you think he’s ok, don’t you?” You asked worriedly.

“Sherlock?”

“Yeah.”

“Does he have a case?” She asked thinkfully.

“Not on my watch,” you denied almost shouting.

“He is a detective, he has to accept a case. That’s his job!”

“I said no,” you said and sighed.

“Ok. Try to convince him then.”

“I’ll do my best. Wish me luck.”

“Just try not to upset him, you know how we gets when somebody confronts him,” Molly warned you.

“Yes, yes, I know,” you said sarcastically and hung up the call.

You were now standing in front of the 221b Baker Street front door. You tried to find the keys in your bag. Once you succeeded on it you finally opened the door. Suddenly you heard a loud noise and somebody screaming. Also, you could listen to “Le nozze di Figaro” coming from Sherlock’s flat. You rolled your eyes and hung the bag on the wall hanger which was in the hall. You thought he was only bored so he started shooting the wall but actually, he was not. You stared at the stairs and sighed. You wanted to go up stairs and calm him down but Mrs. Hudson showed up all of a sudden.

“Oh, my dear, thanks God you are here!” The landlady hugged you so tight that you could barely breath.

“Mrs. Hudson…Mrs. Hudson…please,” you took a deep breath and exclaimed: “Mrs. Hudson!”

“Oh, sorry darling. It’s a habit,” she realeased you.

“Mrs. Hudson, what’s going on here?” You asked concernedly.

“Oh, you mean Sherlock,” she finger pointed the detective’s flat

“Yes. Sherlock. What is he doing?” You nodded angrily.


“Once more unto the breach, dear friends…once more!“


“Is that he?” You inquiered astonishingly and then saw the landlady nod. “Ok, that’s all. I’ll stop this.”

“No, Y/N!” she took you from the shoulder and faced you with horror “Please, don’t disturb him.”

“But Mrs…” you were interrupted by Sherlock’s cries.


“Or close the wall up …with our English dead! Set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide.”


You both heard two loud shots. He was surely shooting the wall.

“You see? If you go upstairs it will get worse. Stay with me, darling. We’ll wait for him to stop shooting and screaming,” she offered.

“But he’s…” you were interrupted, again.


“Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit… to his full height!


He was now yelling at the top of his voice, his face full of rage.


“On, on, you noblest English…whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!“


“He has gone crazy. I should end this right now,” you stated. You were really ashamed of what your ‘boyfriend’ was doing by then.
“Are you crazy, Y/N? Do you want to get shot?” She cried worriedly.


“And you, good yeoman, whose limbs were made in England, show us here the mettle of your pasture!”


“Fine. I’ll wait with you.

“Great!” She smiled with enthusiasm.

“What does cheer you up that much?” You frowned.

“Tea, my dear! Tea!” She exclaimed happily.

You sighed and followed Mrs. Hudson to the kitchen. Then you sat down on a chair at the table and started listening with attention to Sherlock’s yelling. He was certainly out of control. Meanwhile, the ex exotic dancer was putting the kettle on and prepared some tea.

“So, when do you think he’ll stop?” she asked you.

“I don’t know, Mrs. Hudson,” you replied and sighed.

“And what do we do?” She looked at you waiting for an answer.

“I would go up stairs but he would surely shoot on my head,” you mumbled.

“Shall we call John?”

“Why? Do you think he would stop screaming if John will be here?” You inquiered.

“Well, actually, he knows him better than you do, dear mine,” she finger-pointed at you.

“Mrs. Hudson. He will not stop even if you’d give him more morphine,” you complained. You couldn’t believe what Mrs. Hudson has just said; you were the one who knew him better. In fact, you were the only one who could stop him.

“Do you think he’s drunk?”


“… which I doubt not, for there is none of you so mean and base …“


“No, Mrs. Hudson,” you rubbed your face sick of Mrs. Hudson’s questions. “He’s definetely high as a kite”


“… that hath not noble lustre in your eyes!”


“Sherlock high? Again?”

You looked at her with a ‘Oh, God!’ look. “Oh, please…don’t you know him?”

“He had never been high as he is now,” she shook her head.

“Fantastic!” You exclaimed sarcastically gesturing with your hands.


“I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, straining upon the start!“


“Does he always recite Shakespear’s Henry V when he’s high?” You looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

“He often does it, but you should listen to him soliloquizing Romeo’s letters to Juliet,” she laughted.

“When the hell did he had time to read Romeo and Juliet?” You chuckled.

“You should observe him b…”

Meanwhile he stepped into the living room, aimed the pistol towards the wall and fired four times more to various photos of Culverton Smith, the serial killer that got Sherlock’s attention. The music ended and Sherlock was breathless.

 “What was that? Did he stopped?” She looked at you in disbelief.


“The game’s afoot.”


“Oh no, it is not,” you stood up angry. “I’m gonna kill him, Mrs. Hudson. I am going to kill him.”

“Oh, dear; don’t,” she said but it didn’t work.

You ignored her and started walking towards the stairs. You were really scared of Sherlock. You had no idea what he was capable of when he was high. Especially when he carried a gun with him. Once on the stairs, you continued her your nervous climb.

“Wait!” The detective yelled from the flat.

Your heart skept a bit when Bill Wiggins raced past her. He scared you to death.

“I’m out of ’ere,” the young man said. “’e’s lost it.”

“Wiggins, what are you doing…” you glanced at him.

“Where is it?!” Sherlock asked angrily, from the inside of his flat.

“’e’s totally gone!”

You jumped and drawed back while Bill headed off down the stairs, and Sherlock kept yelling upstairs.

“Oh my God. What now?” You whispered to yourself with your hands and legs shaking.

Sherlock breathed heavily as you slowly pushed the door open again. Trembling you stared at the consulting detective. He could not even maintain the equilibrium. Sherlock has gone off the rails. He looked terrible; he didn’t shave himself or took a shower either. He was a total mess. Sherlock was only wearing a dirty shirt, trousers in poor conditions and his blue robe. The last time you saw him was last Monday and he looked sane, so that was unexpected.

You looked around the room. It was full of Culverton Smith’s photographs. You scaringly shivered. You tried to be unnoticed but Sherlock saw you.

“Oh, hello,” he said calmly. “Can I have a cup of tea?” He turned and walked into the kitchen.

“Mrs. Hudson go to your room. Now!” You screamed ordering the landlady to hide herself from him. “Sherlock, please give me the gun,” you lifted a your right hand hoping that he’ll do what you asked him to do.

“Do you mean this?” He glanced at the weapon and observed it.

“Yeah; please give it to me,” you nodded and ordered him calmly.

“What for? I need to get rid of that monster!” You frowned as he pointed with his free hand at a wall full of photographs.

He aimed the pistol to Smith’s photo of the newspaper and shot it five times in a row. Then played with the gun with his hand and took you from your shoulder to get you closer to the wall full of the serial killer’s photos.

This…this monster.He is a serial killer,” he pointed a photograph of him with the weapon.

“I believe you, but I need the gun Sherlock.”

“Can’t you see what he can do?!” He stared at you and frowned.

“I know, he would kill…”

Anyone,” he finished the sence for you.

“Exactly, anyone but you can kill me if you keep playing with the pistol. Please, give it to me.”

“No,” he protested as he walked into the kitchen.

“You better give me the bloody gun or I’ll call the police!” you yelled from the living room and then surprisingly he came back and faced you.

“I can solve this on my own!” he walked towards you aiming the gun at you with his shaking hands.

“Please Sherlock, put that gun down. Don’t you dare to shoot at me,” you cried terrified thinking that you could die in a minute.

“Oh! Oh, you!” He laughted throught greeted teeth and then pointed with his left index finger at you. He smiled as a maniac. “You were always Smith’s partner in crime, weren’t you?”

“Sherlock, for the last time I beg you; put that gun down and don’t fire on me.”

“Why wouldn’t I? You betrayed me!”

“What? No! I would never betray you,” you shook your head.

“Oh, yes you would,” he put the pistol down and got closer to you. He was that close to you that you could feel his heavy breath on your face. “Playing with me made you happy. Did you enjoy the show?”

“Tea?” you asked and he frowned. “Fancy a cup of tea?” He pulled back.

“What?! What..what have you just…”

“You said you wanted a cup of tea, didn’t you?” You tried to calm both of you down and look him in the eyes.

“You..you!” He started to make gestures with his hands on the air.

“I said tea!” You exclaimed as you slapped him on his face three times. He looked at you astoshingly, so you slapped him again but this time the slap was that hard that he dropped the gun. It was now on the floor. You quickly grabbed it and then aimed to Sherlock. “So now, do you want some tea?” He blinked as he stared at the weapon. His hands were in the air with the purpose of surrendering. “Now go to the kitchen and give me your handcuffs!”

“I already have them, my dear,” said the landlady who walked into the room with them in her hands. “Oh, get over yourself. You’re not my first smackhead, Sherlock Holmes. Here you are, you’ll have to thank me next time, Y/N.

You giggled as you took them from Mrs. Hudson’s hands. You handcuffed Sherlock and told him to walk downstairs.

“Oh, for goodness’ sakes. I have to catch that maniac!” He protested as he walked towards the hall.

“Yes, as you say Sherlock; but first you’re going to visit someone.”

“Who?!” he inquired shouting.

“John Watson.”

“Oh, god! Please.”

“Don’t be childish; you should have thought it twice before getting high,” you were by then pointing with gun at Sherlock’s back.

“Could you please put that down? It hurts,” he complained.

“Oh really?!”

“Mrs. Hudson! Mrs. Hudson! Help!” He yelled.

“I won’t help you, my dear,” she was standing at the door with her car keys in her hands.

“What?! Since when do you…”

“Oh, shut up!” You scolded.

“Sherlock Holmes you are not gonna like this,” Mrs. H looked at him with desapproval.

“What are you going to do with me?” He cried with his face pale as paper.

“I assure you, Sherlock, that you’re going to have nice ride,” the woman said. “Now get out of here!”

“What?! No, no, no,” he cried as he saw Mrs. Hudson car and its boot opened. There were two man next to it. They were the boys of the café.

“Stop complaining, Holmes, and get into the boot or I’ll fire on you,” you pushed him with the gun making sure that you wouldn’t pull the trigger and hurt him. That was not the idea, you wouldn’t never hurt him. You just wanted to help him…or at least that was what you were thinking.

“Please, I beg you,” he begged you.

“You’re gonna love it, Holmes.”

“Oh, yes! Now guys, there you go! Get him into the bloody boot,” Mrs. Hudson ordered.

“Please!”

“Stop it, Sherlock!” You shouted at him.

Getting Sherlock into the boot was not easy.They had to drop him twice.
Once in the boot, with his whole body shaking, Mrs. Hudson and you looked at him.

“D’you know why they dropped you, dear?” Mrs. Hudson paused for a second to laught at him. “Because they know you.”

Once the landlady said that she’d walked away and got into the car. Meanwhile, you staring at him whit a dissapointed face.

“When are you gonna learn that getting high is not the solution to all of your problems?”

Sherlock didn’t say a word so you continued staring at him and chuckled.

“Oh, Sherlock don’t be afraid! This is gonna be fun!” you softly laughted. “See you in a few minutes. Bon voyage!” You said and closed the boot.

You walked away with a satisfying smile on your face. You peered throught the window of the car. Then you saw Mrs. Hudson in the driver sit.

“Are you going to take care of him, Mrs. Hudson?” You asked her concerned about Sherlock’s health.

“Of course I’m not!” She scoffed. “Please, get into the car, my dear. I’m not going to deal with him alone.”

“Mrs. Hudson I don’t think…”

“I said get into the car!” She yelled and you obeyed her. “Now, put your seatbelt on; this is going to get rought.”

“What?!”


Suddenly Mrs. Hudson’d started the car and raced down Baker Street. You couldn’t believe this woman was capable of doing such a thing. She even broke the law as she drove that fast. The landlady seemed to have gone off the rails. Mrs. Hudson started driving faster and faster. You looked through the window and saw a helicopter following you. It was unbelievable. You even wondered if Sherlock was alright in the bloody boot.

“Oh, dear mine could you open the glove box and take out a casset? It’s getting boring in here.”

You struggled but immediately found one and pressed it into the slot. The music started playing. ‘For goodness’ sake!’, you tought as “Ode to Joy” blared out the speakers. Then, Mrs. Hudson’s phone rang and she answered while driving. It seemed that she was not even aware about what was she doing. Your eyes got wide-opened when the car headed for another roundabout and has been pursued by two police cars.

“Mrs. Hudson, please slow down! And hang up the phone!” You asked.

“Not now, Y/N. Not now! We needJohn’s help!”

When the second police car approached from in front, the woman crashed into several plastic bins outside the houses.


“Uff…that was amazing!” She said happily as you looked at her amazed.

Mrs. Hudson got out of the car and saw John opening the front door. She sighed with relief while you tried to open the door. Eventually, you got out of the car. The woman turned to John with a smiling face. Before he could say a word a policeman stormed over from the police car.

“Right, you there. Stop right where you are,” he ordered.
“Huh? What?”

“Mrs. Hudson, please do what he says, you begged but the landlady ignored you.

“Oh, John!” She exclaimed.

“Do you have any idea what speed you were going at?” Said the police officer and then she stopped and walked towards him.
“Well, of course not. I was on the phone! Oh…by the way it’s for you,” she handed the phone to the man.

“For me?” He inquired.

“Of course it’s you! Don’t be stupid,” she said as you sighed and put a palm on your face. “It’s the government!”

“The what?!” He cried as he raised the phone to his ear.

You quickly walked towards Mrs. Hudson and John.

“Is that Mycroft, isn’t it?” You asked and pointed at the officer.

“Indeed. Who did you think I was talking to all this time?”

“Look at the state of you, Mrs. H! What have you been doing? By the way, hello,” he greeted you.

“Hey,” you said breathlessly.

“Mrs. Hudson, have you phoned the police?”

“Of course I didn’t call the police. I’m not a civilian!” She blurted and he rolled his eyes.

“Could you explain me what was she doing?” He asked you.

“Well…”

“It’s Sherlock, John!” She stated and began crying. “You’ve got no idea what we’ve been through!”

“What? You’re joking, aren’t you?” He glanced at you but you shooked your head. – “Um…look, I’m not in the mood to talk with him.”

“But John!” She protested.

“Nope, Mrs. Hudson. It’s not gonna happen,” he denied as he shook his head.

“He needs you! Please examine him!” She begged.

“Examine him?” He looked at her astonished and upset. “Someone else. Not me.”

“But…” she pouted.

“No ‘buts’”

“John, please,” you asked him wormly and tilted her head towards the landlady. 

He didn’t say a word, he just sighed and walk towards the house.

“John, John!!” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed frantically as she followed him right into the house 

You rolled her eyes and decided to go and try to convince him to take a look at Sherlock. John walked along the hall when Mrs. Hudson stormed out over to him.

“Now you just listen to me for once in you stupid life. I know Mary’s dead and I know your heart is broken, but if Sherlock Holmes dies too, who will you have then?” Angry, she pointed with her finger at him. “Because I tell you something, John Watson. You will not have me.”

After that she decided to walk away, passing Mary, and head to the door. Mary, who was now John’s hallucination, looked at him.

“Are you really going to let her go like this, John?” You asked him.

“I guess so. I just tell you something, I am not goin to check Sherlock. End point.”

“John, please. Just do it…” he shook his head. “I know Mary would do it,” he looked at you speechless and then stared at Mary.

“Really, John? She’s right and you know it.”

“What are you looking at?” confused, you asked.

“Wh…what?” he mumbled.

“You just looked at the wall,” he shook his head.

“I was just…I didn’t look at the wall.”

“Yes, you did,” Mary looked at him disappointedly.

“John. John!”

“Sorry. What do you want, Y/N?” He asked you firmly.

“Just do what would Mary do. All I ask is that. Sherlock.”

“John. Look at me. I’m dead, but if I were alive I woud do what she says.”

“I’m sorry,” he refused.

“Ok, I understand. Just say Mary that I miss her so much,” you stated and walked out the room.

“Oh, yes. She knows about me. Now, go on,” she tilted her head towards her with ‘Go and check him out’ look on her face.

“Y/N,” he tried to stop you but you were already outside comforting Mr. Hudson.

“It’s ok, Mrs. Hudson, he’ll survive. Or at least I think so,” you said while you were leaning against the Aston.

“No, he won’t. He needs John’s help,” she folded her arms on the car’s roof and has lowered her head onto them and started crying.

“He’ll be alright; I’ll take care of him. After all, I am doctor too.”

“But you are not John. You’re just a physician. You would be not capable of ending this mess.”

“Oh, thanks for the compliment,” you said sarcastically and turned your gaze to the bins Mrs. Hudson just crashed. “You know, I think that it seems he’s not gonna help us,” you reassured her.

“Yeah, look, okay, maybe, if I get a chance,” they both turned around to look at him. He appeared all of a sudden.

“D’you promise?” She smiled at him hopefully.

“I’ll try, if I’m in the area.”

“Promise me?” He turned his gaze to you. She was waiting for an answer with her arms crossed. You seemed to have a ‘Please, help her. I can’t stand this anymore’ look on your face.

“I promise.”

“Thank you!” She said with a smile on her face and turned around to go and open the boot. “Well, on you go.”

 You really wanted to see John’s reaction towards Sherlock’s body in the boot. But there was no expression on his face at all. The consulting detective had his wrists handcuffed together and his whole body trembling. His face was pale of horror.

 “Examine him! Come on!”

“Mrs. Hudson…”– you murmured.

“Oh, darling you should be concerned about him more than I do,” she scolded and you annoyed, softly turned your gaze up to the sky.

“Ok. John?” She asked the army doctor.John glanced at her and then looked into the boot again where Sherlock lifted his head and peered out. He was grimacing.

 “Examine him!”

“I can’t. Just look at him. I cannot do this,” he denied and pointed at Sherlock.


“Yes, you can. You just don’t want to. John, stop being selfish for once. He needs you. And don’t think I will stop you. He’s family.”


“No, he’s not,” he shouted and looked at Mary. She was leaning against the car with her arms crossed.

“John you’re doing it again,” he glanced at you. “You are staring at the car.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Stop lying, John Watson. It doesn’t work.”

“Oh, really?!” He shouted once more.

“John, you’re not ok,” you paced towards him and put a hand on his cheek. “Go home, take some rest and phone me when you’ll stop seeing her.”

“I don’t see her.”

“Yes, you do. Please do it. I’ll check him out. Don’t worry,” John turned his gaze to Mary and sighed.

“No, you won’t. I am going to do it, because that’s what Mary would do. So I tell you something, I’ll do it for Mary and Rosie,” he gazed at her warmly. “And of course because of you. After all, you’re my best friend,” he stated and took Sherlock out the boot. He grabbed him from the arm tightly and walked towards the house.

“I’m alright, John!” He complained.

“Oh, shut up!” He scolded.

“Sherlock, stop it!” You ordered and looked angrily him in the eyes. “Don’t say a word and do what John says,” he stared at you as he walked along the hall with John’s hand on his right arm.

The doctor stopped walking when they got in the living room. He took his hand off and looked at him.

“Now listen, you stupid cock. I’m not gonna help you if you will act as a child as you are doing now. Shut up!”

I should be working. This is pointless. Don’t you…”

You walked over him, stopped in front of him and slapped him.

“Why are you still slap…” you slapped him once again and he touched his cheek. “I have to admit that you…”

“Don’t you dare to say that to my friend, you stupid bastard! You are getting us go crazy. Stop it, Holmes, because if you don’t I bet you you’ll never see us again,” he got breathless when he stared at you right in the eyes. You were angry and he noticed it, so he didn’t said a word.


John was walking in circles while you were checking him out.

“So?” He asked.

“He took heroin,” you replied.

“Since when do you take heroin?!”

“Since you are gone” he said, ashamed.

“What the hell do we have to do with you to stop with this?!” John yellled.

“Well…”

“We’ve been supporting you all this time, Sherlock Holmes,” the landlady exclaimed.

“Except the boot, Mrs. Hudson. The boot was mean.”

“Please, stop it, Sherlock. Just stop it!” You begged for the sake of all of you. You were sick of his behaviour.

“Oh, no wait, Y/N,” John swallowed and pointed at the detective. “He’s dying to tell us something,” he turned to Sherlock. “but I would only love to know why.”
“Because Mrs Hudson’s right. I’m burning up. I’m in the bottom of a pit and I’m still falling and…” he sighed. “… I’m never climbing out. I need you to know, John…I need you to see that up here…I’ve still got it, so when I tell you that this…” he pointed to the laptop, which had the newspaper website open. “…this is the most dangerous, the most despicable human being that I have ever encountered; when I tell you that this-this monster must be ended.”

“Sherlock, enough!” You scolded.

“No!” He turned around to face you with an angry face and making gestures his hands. Then, he turned to John. “Please remember where you’re standing, because … you’re standing exactly where I said you would be two weeks ago,” he stopped for second and calmed himself down. “I’m a mess; I’m in hell; but I am not wrong, not about him.”

“So what has all this got to do with me?”
That creature, that rotting thing…”

“Stop it, Sherlock!” You shouted at him once more.

“Don’t you see what’s going on, Y/N? This monster could kill anyone, even you!” He walked over you, he finger-pointed at your heart and whispered. “I bet you don’t wanna get killed, so don’t appal me when I’m trying to protect all of you. I’m really concerned about this and you know it. So as I said, this horrible rotting thing…living breathing coagulation of human evil, and if the only thing I ever do in this world is drive him out of it, then my life will not have been wasted.” He turned around and stared at John. “John, look at me. Can’t do it, not now. Not alone,” he looked at him with helpless face.

“You…” John muttered. “…you Sherlock, you are a liar!” He finally stated.

“Why would I lie to you?” Sherlock frowned.

“Because you always lie. Always. It seems to be your mission.”

“Look, I have been many things, John, but when have I ever been a malingerer?”
“You pretended to be dead for two years!” He yelled and they both could see the landlady shed a tear.

“Oh, yes. You did,” you scolded and he began hesitating.

“… Apart from that?”

“Listen, before I do anything, I need to know what state you’re in,” John said.

“You both have just checked me!” He protested.

“It is not enough! We have to be sure if you are clean. I mean look at this scars! God, Sherlock!” You pushed up the sleeves of his shirt and the scars showed up. You were really concerned about him. You could have cried but you tried not to. “You’ve been injecting yourself, didn’t you?”

“Oh for God’s sake!” He yelled as he shaked his arm just to take your hands off of it.

“We need somebody. Somebody who unlike me, learned to see through your bullshit long ago.”

“You mean her,” he finger pointed at you

“No, Sherlock. That’s not me,” you corrected him and folded your arms.
“Who’s that, then? I’m sure I would have noticed.”

“The last person you’d think of,” John said and Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“I want you to be examined by Molly Hooper,” he said. Sherlock looked down and bit his lips.

“Did you hear him? He said Molly. Molly Hooper,” you repeated just to make sure that he heard John.

“You’re really not gonna like this.”

“Like what?” John asked.

The doorbell rang and you looked at him furiously. “Let me guess,” you said to him and shut him up. “Molly?”

“Two weeks ago,” he muttered and you cursed under your breath. “If you’d like to know how I predict the future…”

“I don’t care how,” John said angrily as he turned to him.

John opened the door and saw Molly standing in front of him.

“Uhm…hi. Sherlock phoned me”

“Two weeks ago, right?” John smiled tightly.

“How do you know that?”

“Take a guess,” he said.

“Oh God!” She exclaimed when she saw you behind John peering out.

“Yes,” you nodded and John turned around surprised.

“What happened now?”

“He’s using again,” John informed her while rubbing his forehead.

“Could you please just check him out, Molly? The only thing we already know it’s that he has taken heroin,” you asked her.

“Since when?”

“Just check him out, please,”

Suddenly Sherlock stumbled out into the hall. “Is it she, isn’t it?”

“Sherlock, take a guess,” you confronted him and he frowned.

“What?”

“You should better go and cough. Once you’re done, you’ll go back to Baker Street. And if you don’t I’ll take you right into the boot again.”

“Why are you so angry with me?”

“We should be asking you why did you got high, what the hell were you thinking about when you phoned Molly and what are you doing here,” John scolded.

“Well, I guess the last one doesn’t need an explanation,” he glared at you so you sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Let me…” he interrupted you.

“Come on, Molly. Tell me when to cough. Hope you remembered to bring my coat.”

“Your coat is in my house, you cock. You forgot it in the lab last Monday, so I took it for you,” you told him angrily.

“Since when do I forget my coat?” He asked himself.

“I don’t know. Oh, by the way you forgot your scarf too. So I think that’s why you are wearing what you’re wearing,” you smiled tightly and fakely at him.

“Oh, good Lord!” He sighed and walked away.


Once outside John and you were watching Sherlock being checked out.

“Do you think he’ll do it again?” He asked.

“Well…” you mock-shuddered. “we both got involved with a junkie with an international reputation.”

“Yeah, we did,” he sighed and then looked at you “Was I even sane when I accepted to be his flat-mate?”

“I don’t know. That’s your problem,” you giggled.

“Uhm…mm…yes but we share the same problem,” you both chuckled and then he turned his gaze again at the detective and the pathologist.

“Don’t even mention it,” you laughted.

“John, is Molly the right person to be doing medicals? She’s more used to dead people. It’s bound to lower your standards,” asked Mrs. Hudson as she stepped next to him.                

“I don’t know, Mrs. H.”

“And you Y/N? You are a doctor you should have examined him.”

“I already did, but the bastard seems not to understand.”

“So…well…this is the moment when I say goobye,” he said and started walking towards the house.

“John!” Mrs. Hudson cried. “John Watson, come back here! John!” She shouted and she followed him saying his name out loud and ordering him to stop.

“Mrs. Hudson, stop. I’m not…”

“You have to go with him, John. He turned into a maniac since he discovered that Culverton Smith is a serial killer.”

“Oh, yes. I noticed,” he tightly smiled as he surprisingly saw Mary. She was there looking at him. Standing on the grass and leaning her back against the wall got him nostalgic. But all of sudden she spoke to him.

“John, cheer up. The game is on!” She laughted at him.

“No, it’s not,” he replied Mary.

“Sorry?” Confused, the landlady asked him. “John, are you ok?”

“Uhm…mmm..yes.”

“Of course he’s fine, Mrs. Hudson,” you said as you walked towards them.

“So if it is true, I beg you to solve this together with Sherlock.”

“Mrs. Hudson…” he rubbed his nose and put his hand on his hips.

“Come on, John,” you chuckled. “The game is afoot!”

“Sorry, what?” he asked as he glanced at Mary.

“You heard her, John. Go and catch this criminal with our monster. Go on!” Mary smiled and he smiled back to her. “The game is afoot!”


Masterlist // Requests // Prompts

John knows who was able to see through Sherlock… even John admitted that he wasn’t able to do this.

and there’s Sherlock saying “I’m sure I would have noticed” 

because he knows… but he’s afraid that he’ll disappoint that person again so he’s using his sarcasm again…

but then John said this…

and this was Sherlock’s reaction… he looked kinda angry? why?

because Molly was the one person who mattered the most and she’s definitely not the last person he would think of.

I also want to talk about this…

There they go again, Molly gets stressed because of Sherlock especially when he’s taking drugs. That shows how much she cares for his well-being but Sherlock, for some reason, can’t grasp the concept yet (and he’s kinda avoiding the problem)… then he said this:

“Stress can ruin every day of your life. Dying can only ruin one.

That last line, I think that’s a foreshadowing (that Sherlock unknowingly said that could actually be used against him)… 

“DYING CAN ONLY RUIN ONE”

Because when Molly’s life was put in danger, we all know who’ll be ruined by it. 

STARBRIGHT PT. 2

“You’re smiling again,” Greg noted.

John jumped back to the present, blinking quickly to shake away his thoughts, which happened to be composed of two very specific people back at the flat. Almost guiltily, John took a sip of his pint and averted his eyes. “I can’t smile?”

“Oh, sure you can,” Greg replied, seeming to struggle hiding a smile of his own. “Domestic life is very fetching on you.”

“Shut up.”

Greg chuckled good-naturedly, popping another chip in his mouth. “I kid, I kid. And speaking of kids…”

John snorted at the segue. “Good one. Rosie’s fantastic, as always. Sherlock’s watching her right now actually, getting up to god knows what. We sort of have an agreement; whenever you and I have these Friday pub trips, he and Rosie are allowed to do whatever experiments or games they want, no questions asked. Mealworms, baking concoctions, microscopes, you name it. Whatever she wants to do.” John nabbed a chip of his own, completely unable to hide his smile this time. “Sherlock’s reasoning being that if I don’t know, I can’t get angry.”

“And you trust him?”

There was no question. “Utterly.”

Keep reading

I was thinking about why I just cannot bring myself to like Jughead on Riverdale at all - I don’t think it’s totally my disdain for the actor, or his hamfisted delivery, or my dislike of the character in the classic comics (the coded homophobia of his initial characterization as an effete, ineffectual, lazy, self-absorbed guy whose awful treatment of women is presented as the explicit evidence that he’s not into girls and whose obsession with food replaces what is, in his peers, an obsession with women) or my mistrust of his handling in nu-Archie comics stuff (where that homophobic characterization is justified by writers labeling him as asexual, rather than actually changing the character in a fundamental way so that he’s no longer that sort of caricature). Obviously all of that is part of it but what is also part of it is like, why do writers always write men and boys in pain the same way! Why the Manpain™!

Like, there is a difference between a dude character who is having a hard time, or is traumatized, or is depressed, or angry, or grieving, or whatever, and expresses those emotions in complex ways that feel real and organic to the character… and a dude character with Manpain™. You know?

Owen Hunt on Grey’s Anatomy has Manpain™. He growls and punches people and takes his misery out on his girlfriend but we’re all supposed to be sympathetic because he’s hurting and it’s just so complicated. Alex Karev has SOMETIMES been written in a more thoughtful way than this but most of the time he also has Manpain™, especially when he was with Izzie. Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock Holmes has Manpain™; actually a LOT of modern versions of Sherlock Holmes have Manpain™, including Dr. House. Manpain™ makes you insufferable. Manpain™ is uncommunicative, frustrated, sometimes violent, always surly. NOBODY UNDERSTANDS MANPAIN™! Women, especially, can not understand; only men feel Manpain™. The only people a man with Manpain™ can relate to are like, their best bro, and dudes who are soldiers returning from a war zone, because that is the standard for Manpain™, I guess, because war is about Men, it’s where men go to be traumatized because that is the only legitimate way to be traumatized. (There are never any people who are not men in war zones, in these stories, or if they are, they come back miraculously untraumatized.) Manpain™ tells you that you cannot POSSIBLY relate to this character; it is alienating to watch, especially if you are not a man. Sometimes men with Manpain™ lecture women characters about how they can never understand them. When this happens it is understood that the women characters deserve this and should feel bad and stupid and understand that their concerns are trivial.

A character who just kind of happens to be a dude with some sort of emotional turmoil or pain is, like… Finn from TFA. Finn is struggling. He’s trying to get a handle on his shit. He’s terrified and hopeful and bleak and nervous and angry and sad and excited, sometimes by turns and sometimes all at once - he has a range of human emotions. He’s scared and brave and vulnerable and determined. He doesn’t really know how to say everything he wants or needs to say all the time - you can tell by the way he has visible difficulty when he tells Rey goodbye, before he comes back for her; this is NOT represented by stony silence, or macho posturing, or whatever, it’s just him, looking at this person he cares about and trying to find the right words to say what he wants to convey and ultimately failing. Through Finn’s turmoil, we get a sense of who he is, what he really wants, what he might do in the future; we get to know this character in a way that feels cohesive and somewhat intimate, and that makes us more invested in the story, which never presumes to tell us that we can’t relate to what he’s going through, because obviously no one watching TFA has ever ACTUALLY been a Stormtrooper - Stormtroopers aren’t real - but lots of people have felt dehumanized, lost, scared, lots of people have wanted to make people think they were someone else, etc (and that’s not even getting into like, Space Oppression Allegories).

Anyway I hope this clears up what I mean when I talk about Manpain as like, a narrative tool or whatever. 

The Personal Blog of Molly Hooper

“I want to ask you something…on your blog, you mentioned- last night, and I…well, you said it was…boring. Molly, if I’m failing to please-”

“Sherlock, I was joking…come on, I know you read it. I’m hardly going to say my new secret lover rocks my world and makes me forget my own name when we’re together. You…are the best…I’ve ever, and will ever, have.”

9:13pm January 12th 2014

I cannot believe the evening I’ve had! Firstly, Mr. Sexy Self-Proclaimed Sociopath demanded my full attention yet again (honestly, it’s like he doesn’t want me to meet anyone.) Anyway, on my way home, I went to my local chippie…bloody drunk started grabbing at me and pulled me into an alleyway. Luckily, Allan saw and shooed him off – it’s times like this I wish I knew self-defence! Can you imagine that? Molly Hooper, shy little morgue mouse, fighting her own battles? It’s a thought…

“SHERLOCK HOLMES!” The consulting detective groaned loudly when he heard the small and angry steps on the stairs leading to flat B; Molly was terrifying when she was angry – he desperately glanced around the flat, searching for something to make him look busy. Giving up, he threw himself on the sofa as the door flew open, “what the hell is this?”

Molly threw the newspaper across his sprawled body, effectively bringing his attention to the headline: MAN FOUND BADLY BEATEN IN ALLEY OUTSIDE CHIP SHOP.

Keep reading

3. I am going to punch you, please go with it.

Anon- “Sherlock #3??”
@joesuggstuff- “Hi I saw your post about the prompt quotes and i thought it was a cute idea! I was wondering if you could make me one with Sherlock and number 3?”
Thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy!
I told myself that this would be short… 2k words later and here I am.
-Mrs. Holmes

No one infuriated you more than William Sherlock Scott Holmes.
You mention his full name because he hates it, so saying it even if it’s in your head, you know it would annoy him.
There was a period of time where you would only call him “Will” or “William” just to see his eyes sharpen in anger.
However, that’s besides the point.
The point is you hate him and you really tried not to, but some things just happen.
Ever since the first time he met you he had been a complete ass. You remember one moment more vividly than the others.
It was your first day on the job at Scotland Yard with the forensics division and you had made cookies for the whole team.
Sherlock was at the office that day and some of your coworkers had warned you about him, calling him horrid names and making fun of him.
You were sure that he couldn’t be that bad, so you made the mistake of attempting a conversation with the man.
When you saw him that day you asked him how he was doing and if he wanted a cookie from the batch that you had brought in.
He had stared at you for a while, sizing you up and deducing you easily.
He listed off a mix of personal and obvious information in front of the whole team which left you fuming.
He had expected you to cry or maybe scream at him.
Instead, you had planted a firm slap to the side of his sculpted cheek.
He will always remember the pointed and furious look you had given him before walking away in a murderous stride.
The rest of the team had laughed, never having seen someone react that way to Sherlock’s deduction.
They especially hadn’t expected it from the new girl who baked cookies for them.
Sherlock was surprised as well and a bit impressed.
He supposed that’s when he made it his personal goal to make you as angry or annoyed as possible just so that he could see your nose crinkle and your eyebrows furrow together.
And you supposed that’s when you decided he was the most infuriating human you have ever met.
There were several months of tense conversations and rude remarks made by the both of you.
You can only remember two positive conversations that you had with the man over a whole year of knowing him.
One of them was relatively short and not as horrible as you would have expected.
Sherlock had entered your office abruptly, earning a sharp glare from you as you sat at your desk working on paperwork.
You had asked him what the hell he was doing in your office before he gave you an exhausted look.
He let out a loud sigh before throwing his body down into a chair that sat in the corner of the room, “I was afraid I was going to commit homicide.” He remarked.
You weren’t taken aback by this comment, Sherlock often said weird statements like this.
You looked up at him, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.
“Anderson?” You questioned, knowing Sherlock’s hatred for the man.
Despite him being your boss, you didn’t like him that much either.
Sherlock nodded curtly, answering your question.
You turned your head back down to your papers, your pen scribbling down some information.
“Stay in here as long as you need,” You sighed, the statement sounding like it physically pained you to say.
Sherlock didn’t thank you, or even say anything, he merely stared at you for the rest of his visit.
The second positive conversation could hardly be considered a conversation, but it was a surprising encounter. It also was the most recent interaction you had had with the man. After this, he had been talking to you less and less before it came to the point where he wouldn’t even really look at you.
Not that you were complaining. Deep down you were lightly complaining but your mind easily pushed it down.
You were at a crime scene, dressed in your normal work clothes and preparing to wear one of the ridiculous, but mandatory, blue suits that were worn to prevent contamination to the crime scene.
The station was set up and many other officers were suiting up, talking amongst each other as they did so.
You listened absentmindedly to the conversations as you grabbed one of the light blue suits.
“That Sherlock, he’s a scary one, isn’t he?” A young man questioned, someone who you knew was one of your inferiors.
Not that you thought that in a bad way, but more as a mere observation. You knew you had the man in your office a few times for training and for interviews.
You had thought he was nice, a good fit for the job, and a nice addition to the team.
Until you heard him speaking casually to one of his colleagues.
The other man, who was someone you had never spoken to but had seen around, answered.
“Definitely, he’s real creepy. He’s got the dead eyes and all.” The man remarked in agreement.
You slowed your dressing in order to listen closer to the conversation, your brow furrowed a bit.
“Seems all like a hoax, he’s probably helping the murderers,” One suggested with a snicker.
You took in a sharp breath at the suggestion, surprised by their rude words.
“Yeah, what a freak.” The other laughed, reminding you of a bully from a cheesy high school movie.
You swallowed, feeling sickened at their terrible accusations.
You disliked Sherlock, pretty strongly at that, but you would never even think the words these men were thinking.
He was rude and lacked all proper manners along with any social skill but he was the smartest person you have ever met.
You turned immediately to the men, not even thinking thoroughly before speaking.
“You don’t speak of a co-worker that way, especially not in front of your manager. I can’t believe you would accuse a man who has done nothing but help us of being a criminal.” You snapped at them, your voice holding a level of sharpness that you usually reserved for the man who you were defending.
The two men looked shocked at your sudden outburst, staring at you with wide, deer in the headlights eyes.
“W-We thought-” One began, looking desperate to fix the situation or scurry away in submission.
“It doesn’t matter what you thought, it matters that you respect the men and women you work with. It doesn’t matter what Sherlock does he is a member of this team and he does not deserve to be bullied by two men who still have an adolescent mindset.” You were on the verge of shouting at them, a random burst of anger spreading through you as you remembered the terrible things they said.
The men looked terrified at this point and mumbled apologies before hurrying away with their tails between their legs.
You rolled your eyes as soon as they left, letting out a frustrated sigh before zipping up the ridiculous outfit and turning to go to the scene.
You stopped when you saw Sherlock standing near the doorway of the abandoned warehouse you had to enter to go examine the body.
Your eyes widened and you felt a mix of wanting him to have heard you defending him but also desperately wanting him to have missed it so that he wouldn’t tease you for it for the rest of your days.
You swallowed, waiting for him to say something so you could gage if he had heard or not.
“Thanks,” he said softly, his eyes not narrowed in observation but calm and gentle.
“Uh,” you muttered, moving to walk past him so that you wouldn’t have endure anymore awkwardness.
“No problem,” you added, scurrying past him quickly and going to the crime scene.
After that, he had slowly decreased all conversation.
You kept telling yourself you weren’t disappointed or even worse, actually missing him.
But, there was a small feeling of despair when he didn’t come into your office randomly just to exchange rude banter back and forth.
It was odd not hearing his smooth voice tease or insult you at least once a day.
But you definitely didn’t miss him, or so you assured yourself.
He hadn’t spoken to you and barely even looked at you the past two weeks, so you can imagine the surprise you felt when you felt fingers grip your arm.
You were walking through the crowded break room when you were pulled to the side.
You furrowed your brows instantly at the action, confused as to who would grab you so rudely.
Your questions were answered when you looked up and was greeted by a pair of piercing green eyes and curly dark brown hair.
“What?” You asked him, a bit more defensive than you intended.
He wasn’t affected by it, he was already talking to you.
“I have a case I’m working on and I would like your opinion. Do you want to go to dinner?” He questioned with a forced calmness in his tone.
Your eyes widened instantly and your breath hitched in your throat.
He blinked at your reaction and was still holding onto your arm with a light grip.
“I-I-” You stuttered out, looking up at him with an expression of total shock.
“Dinner?” You finally asked, sounding beyond confused.
“Yes, that is what I said.” He told you, his voice not as rude as usual and actually sounding understanding and kind for once.
You narrowed your eyes at him in distrust, “Dinner as in Chinese food or with wine and… Nice clothes?” You asked, hesitating on your definitions.
Sherlock thought for about a second before responding, “Wine and nice clothes,” He decided.
“With me?” You asked, needing to make sure.
He nodded and you can tell he was trying very hard not to say a witty insult.
You stared at him for longer than you needed to as you examined his angular features and bright eyes.
“Yes,” You blurted out, your mouth deciding to speak without consent from your mind.
He looked a tiny bit surprised but in a good way and you could have sworn you saw a small smirk on his lips.
“But, I am going to have to punch you, please go with it.” You asked of him, taking a small step back and watching his eyes flash with slight fear.
“Punch me?” He questioned, still looking alarmed.
“I have a reputation to uphold,” You explained vaguely, earning a raised eyebrow from Sherlock.
“If you must,” He sighed, turning his head so that the blow would be directed to his cheek and not his nose or teeth.
“Still on for dinner though, right?” He asked for confirmation as you squared up and threw an arm back.
You weren’t planning to hit him too hard, just hard enough so that the people in the break room knew that they were still on relatively bad terms.
Also, it made you look like a badass and you would never turn down the opportunity to look cooler than you actually are.
“Of course,” You responded, hitting him sharply to the side before turning around and walking away.
His hand instinctively went to the stinging skin of his cheek as all of the workers looked up to see the scene.
However, he was watching you walk away.
He immediately noticed the pep in your step that was a deep contrast to your usual powerful stride.
He smiled slightly at that and found himself looking forward to the dinner, he just hoped you wouldn’t have to punch him again.

Pictures of you

Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2016
Day Five, March 10
Non-canon/ Headcanon: “Teen!lock or Uni!lock”
Author: potemkinx
Artist: Flavialikestodraw

AN: Sorry for the delay… :P

“I can’t believe twenty years had passed since we took this photo…”, Molly said, her fingertips caressing the faces on the picture. Her dreamy smile told him that her mind had already taken her on a stroll down memory lane, so he decided to go with her.

Twenty years before

“Come on, Mr. Grumpy! Move that fantastic arse of yours, and take a photo of Molly and me! Even better, put on the self-timer and take a picture with us!”. Victor’s cheerful attitude gave him a headache, but Sherlock knew better than anyone else that his best friend could be rather persistent, when he wanted something. And right now he wanted to immortalize this stupid moment, it seemed.

He put on the self-timer, and reached Victor and his girlfriend, Molly. She was quite tolerable, Sherlock thought. Maybe not quite as alluring as Victor’s ex, but surely smarter. Well, to say the truth, she was really clever… And quite sweet too. And she smelled of cinnamon and apple, and the way her eyes brightened when she smiled…

Oh, God, Sherlock, don’t tell me you’re falling in love with your best friend’s girlfriend! I thought you were listening when I told you how love is a disadvantage… As usual when it had to scold him, his mind chose to sue his brother’s Mycroft voice to reprimand him.

He decided to ignore the way Molly was smiling at him, and Victor’s hand on his shoulder. As soon as the flash went off, he sprinted away, not stopping until his friends stopped to call his name.

Molly’s voice brought him back to reality. “I miss him… Especially today. Thanks to him, I meet you… My future husband.” Her gaze fell to the engagement ring he had put on her finger just that day.

Sherlock nodded, taking one last look at the picture. Victors’ smile seemed to grew larger, but he knew it was just his mind playing tricks on him. When he had left rehab, one year after graduation, his parents told him that his best friend was dead. A car accident, just the day before his discharge from the clinic. Everyone was afraid he would relapse, but he knew that Victor would be disappointed, and angry at him, for using his demise as an excuse to fall back into his addiction. So he didn’t, and on his grave, he vowed to do his best to be the man Victor wanted him to be. And at the funeral, after many years, he met Molly again.

“Well, it only took me twenty years to finally propose… But you’re right, I miss him too.” He raised his glass, and waited until Molly did the same.

“We miss you, and we wish you were here with us. Thank you, Victor Trevor.”

anonymous asked:

Why on earth did Sherlock investigate Mary's guests (I assume Archie was one of hers since John never acknowledged him) and Mary's ex-boyfriend but not Mary herself? He found out about her stolen identity and that she'd been on the run for five years pretty quickly after getting shot, so it must not have been that hard to find information on her. He plans every detail of the wedding and studies David's Twitter habits but doesn't once think of at least googling her like he did Sholto?

Oh nonny, there are so many possible answers to this question. I’ll take a stab at it and give my personal reading of the situation.

I think Sherlock had a huge blind spot when it came to Mary for no other reason than she was John’s chosen person. Sherlock came back from a two year absence in John’s life, after killing himself in front of John, and Mary had already been in the picture for several months. To say Sherlock feels immense guilt over what he did I think is an understatement. You see it in the way that he goes above and beyond as John’s best man and in the way he treats everyone around him more kindly. When he left, he hurt John badly. It doesn’t matter if John forgives him or not because he isn’t over it and Sherlock knows this. In some ways, it’s a simple case of “shoot-the-messenger” syndrome. Look at what happens in TGG when Sherlock to deuces that Moriarty is gay. Molly blames SHERLOCK for spoiling everything. And keep in mind, Molly wasn’t even serious about Jim. Now let’s look at the situation in TEH. John is engaged to marry this woman. If Sherlock brings up the misgivings he has about her, it’s possible, (even likely given John’s state of mind at the time), that John will get angry at him about it, especially given Sherlock’s track record of rudely picking up on the personal business/flaws of others.

That being said, this idea that Sherlock was “slow” as Mary puts it, I don’t believe for a minute. Sherlock knew there was something off about Mary. But he didn’t know what it was, and John chose her to be with, and I think Sherlock decided to give her the benefit of whatever doubt he had for John’s sake. We saw Sherlock notice about the skip code, and we saw him notice about Mary knowing Sholto’s room. He knows that a lot of people don’t like her. He deduced that she is a liar. So this idea that Sherlock doesn’t realize that there’s something off about Mary is incorrect as far as I’m concerned. For example, if you look at something like the David situation, to me it shows that Sherlock doesn’t trust Mary either. If Mary had an ex-boyfriend hung up on her but had no interest in anything happening between them I think Sherlock could trust her to take care of herself where David is concerned. He certainly would not feel the need to downgrade David’s relationship with Mary and make it so that he can only see Mary when John is there to supervise. If Sherlock trusted Mary, he wouldn’t have to worry about what would happen with David and Mary alone, would he? But it is a concern for him, which means that Sherlock doesn’t completely trust her.

Sherlock is focusing on the things that he can control. He can’t control John and the fact that he’s chosen to marry this woman. But he CAN control David and get him to back the hell off.

As for why Sherlock didn’t investigate Mary, he knows that there is likely something to find, something less than good. Given that Sherlock just spent two years keeping something huge from John and feeling guilty about it, if he knew for sure that there was something bad about Mary he knows he would have to tell John. I think Sherlock is just hoping that whatever is in Mary’s past isn’t too bad and just leaving it as it is and choosing to believe that she loves John and will do right by him. Blissful ignorance as it were. Thanks!

If anyone has anything to add, or if you disagree, feel free to respond!!

“Sherlock! Lestrade says-,” John’s voice faltered the minute the doors swung open, revealing a pair snogging in the lab.

A woman was placed on the counter, a man was standing possessively between her legs, his large hands braced on the woman’s hips. 

John gaped when his mind managed to catch up on who the pair in fact were. He saw the ponytail, the white lab coat and the slim hands clutched to the lapels of his curly dark haired friend’s coat - yet - he still felt disbelief pour through him.

A million questions formed in his head, all of them wanting to be let out, but utterly unable to when he was promptly shoved out by a less oblivious Sherlock.

Keep reading

Also, can I just point out the fact that while Sherlock is lying to people with in the show’s universe who know him, the viewing audience knows that Sherlock is not an unfeeling, robotic, asexual sociopath. He is not lying to us, because we are privy to Sherlock when no one else can see him.

This is why hatred for John is so nonsensical to me. Because people who are angry at him do not seem to understand that we as an audience see Sherlock in a way that John doesn’t. We see him in a way NO ONE gets to.

The Lying Detective is 100% for the in-show universe. Especially John.

Rant time

I am actually so tired of Sherlock shipping. Somehow this show was downgraded to some soap opera and deluded into some idea that every single frame and piece of dialogue in every single scene has some romantic meaning behind it. There is so much more to this show than John and Sherlock’s apparent “100% canon” relationship. Look Im not even denying the possibility, and most of the things I see on it makes logical meta sense. Im impressed with that, and Im happy people care.

Its when ALL PEOPLE DO IS TALK ABOUT IT THAT MAKES ME MAD. Sherlock meta is not just shipping meta. ITS NOT ALWAYS ABOUT THAT. All I see is “this action means he wanted to be away from Mary” or “He said this but the way he looked meant he is angsting over him” Like… sometimes the curtains are just blue ok?

I especially get angry when people pretend that NO other character is allowed to have some positive influence on Sherlock. Every other character is “the enemy” in the little secluded Johnlock utopia. For gods sake Sherlock saved 3 people on that rooftop that day, and called the other “the person that mattered the most.” Sherlock has many people that influence him, John is just the biggest part of that because he was also the trigger that set the rest of them off. Like Mycroft said, John was the making of Sherlock, and also made him worse than ever.

Sherlock is a beautiful and well crafted show, that I enjoyed immensely BEFORE I knew about all the shipping. Ever since the roller coaster of S3, all I see on my dash is “Mary is this, Mary is that,” and “Johnlock is foreshadowed here and here and here" 

Is there really nothing more to this fandom? To this show?? Im exhausted.

Prompt from whoareallyoupeople

Full prompt at the end - warning for violent themes

I’m a child, Molly. I cannot express my feelings for you without hurting you. But there is something I want you to know: I never wanted anyone to know how important you are to me because that piece of information is the most dangerous weapon that can be used against me.

Another day at Bart’s, another day of useless longing and hopeless staring; Molly wondered what she had ever done to deserve this torture. Why couldn’t she just move on and enjoy her life? Tom had sensed his opportunity and ran for his life, taking Janine with him; Molly recognised her from the papers as Sherlock’s ‘girlfriend’. It had been rather early when the moody detective strolled into the lab with the cheery doctor at his side; they were investigating a simple robbery for a neighbour of John’s – apparently he had forced Sherlock to take the case. Sherlock was grumbling under his breath and Molly was certain he was asking for a slap especially when, in his boredom, he turned to John and shook his head.

“Isn’t it obvious it was the teenage son who took the money? He needed a fix…” he frowned, turning back to the microscope and lowering his voice, “…he’s not the only one.”

“What did you say?”

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“…and John will cry buckets and buckets. It’s him that I worry about the most. That wife…”

Notice how Jim refers to Mary as John’s “wife” in a sequence taking place in Sherlock’s head. Not “that Mary Morstan”, which would be more applicable, but she’s being labeled as the only remaining piece of information that’s still true about her from Sherlock’s point of view. This is cross-referenced by images of Mary in her wedding dress pulling the trigger because “that wife” and “that assassin who’s past life I completely missed this whole time” collided in to one image for him.

“Mary Morstan” is currently an enigma or “liar”, so Sherlock knows nothing about her now besides the fact she’s still married to John. Therefore, Jim could have referred to her by any number of crude, mean, or spiteful names if I was really supposed to get the sense Sherlock secretly hates her - be that as a person or for what she’s done here - but “that wife” was chosen specifically, preceded by the statement of “it’s John that I worry about the most”.

John’s life is about to get a huge wake up call in that his wife is not exactly the person he thought she was. Remember in the beginning of this series both John and Mary are posing to be these mild-mannered citizens with their average jobs and normal lives where nothing interesting or over the top happens because they’re both secretly trying to leave pasts behind them for various reasons. Little did John know, however, he still subconsciously found that same source of danger he thought he left behind when Sherlock died through Mary (who also found it again through John).

This series was as much about Sherlock embracing his emotions as it was John coming to terms with the fact he’s just as dangerous as “the psychopaths” he seems to have a knack for surrounding himself with. The longer it takes him to accept this the shorter his fuse is going to get. He knows the violent streak that’s in there and he’s warned people about it before, but what he doesn’t understand is that everyone already knows this despite the facade he puts up. Just this series alone he’s spurring on fights, carrying weapons ~just in case~, and beating up junkies for next to nothing - he enjoys it. Mycroft called it when he first met him, Sherlock indulged him in it, and Jim teased him over it. Thus, I’d too be worried about his reaction to finding out “that wife” - the one person who’s not supposed to be caught up in all this violent stuff is actually closer to it than he ever could have imagined being a former assassin and all - is now added to that pile of people who also saw it in him despite his best efforts, but didn’t love him any less for it when no other woman thus far did. Everyone can read John like a book, but he can’t read any of them - how frustrating is that?

With this reveal, on top of Sherlock possibly dying here, it’s really no surprise Jim then went on to say “You’re letting him down, Sherlock. John Watson is definitely in danger”. What would have been a major blow out between John and Mary over her past (and possibly even some of his), plus Sherlock’s death where John would cry buckets again, still wouldn’t have eliminated the ever growing Magnussen problem that John (and Mary) continues to be tied to and thus in danger from that Mary was initially trying to fix for everyone. Without Sherlock’s mediation to keep everyone together, this could have been even more disastrous than it was already shaping up to be, so he had to get off his ass and go return to them to sort things out.

So when Jim says “that wife”, it reads closer to “That (situation with that) wife! *blows noises* Hoo boy, that’s gonna be a fucking mess when John finds everything out. Wouldn’t wanna be around for that one…”, and not some secret insight to Sherlock’s true feelings about Mary where he feels disdain and loathing. If anything, this is all Sherlock acknowledging what Mary was trying to do from the start, however haphazard it may have been, and that he’s concerned with what’s going to happen to the Watsons because of it, especially John who - surprise, surprise - flips his shit when all of this comes to light because this the billionth time someone has majorly lied to him on this show and he’s angry about it. If there’s anyone who has a first-hand account of what John’s reaction was going to be to something like this and how to handle it, it’s Sherlock. Helping Mary out was the least he could do for “that wife”.

post-s3 (possibly 4)

His breath fogged up on the car window, face partially plastered to the glass, as he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth the thing that had been going through his mind for the full hour they’d been in the car - “We both saw Moriarty die… Isn’t this a bit excessive?”

“Hmm?” said Sherlock who had his blue eyes fixed on the exit. “I’d hardly call it excessive John, though the surveillance cameras inside probably are.”

“… I hope that excludes the locker rooms,” John added with a laugh, wondering how on earth Mycroft had agreed to that, or if Sherlock had put them up himself. A minute or two passed, and he turned his head to stare at the back of his friend’s curly head. “You’re not doing this because she’s here are you?” Instead of giving him an answer, the man shifted awkwardly in his seat peering at his phone that he soon pocketed. “So that’s a no, then? You’ve got no feelings for Molly Hooper?”

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