final vows

So @warmth-and-constancy uh….. this is an interesting version of a script to send to the Emmys when 1) that line wasn’t in it and 2) they kept on using “you know what happened to the other one” as an ambiguous line, that may not have referred to a Holmes sibling at all.

so you’re telling me that in 2016 they sent this to the emmys and risked them knowing the “Eurus Holmes sister” plot twist for a year. 

*MASSIVE SIDE EYE*

Originally posted by annefrankisgod

dailymotion

The entirety of the tarmac scene, frankensteined together using clips from HLV and TAB.

2

How often I am coming back to this moment today. My Final Vows. That day I chose You Jesus. Forever. No. It’s You who chose me. I am Yours & You are mine. P.s. I’m wearing black habit & veil here as it’s an “official” color for all the ceremonies in our Congregation. SECOND photo: I am second on your left 😉💁Praying for all of you out there discerning religious vocation or priesthood 🙏
.
It is Jesus that you seek when you dream of happiness; He is waiting for you when nothing else you find satisfies you; He is the beauty to which you are so attracted; it is He who provoked you with that thirst for fullness that will not let you settle for compromise; it is He who urges you to shed the masks of a false life; it is He who reads in your heart your most genuine choices, the choices that others try to stifle.
It is Jesus who stirs in you the desire to do something great with your lives, the will to follow an ideal, the refusal to allow yourselves to be ground down by mediocrity, the courage to commit yourselves humbly and patiently to improving yourselves and society, making the world more human and more fraternal || @saintjohnpaulii

5

“All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they’re all I can see

I don’t know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all” - Chasing Cars (Snow Patrol)

Imagine working for Sherlock in secret

Sherlock’s eyes were shut and his hands together as his fingers were touching his chin. Meanwhile, his friend, John Watson, was typing on his laptop. “What are you doing?” The detective asked trying to make the doctor stop doing what he was doing because it was annoying him.

“Next post,” he said.

“Stop it,” he snapped.

John stopped and looked confused at the detective. “Why?” He asked. Instead of replying him, Sherlock opened his eyes and glared at him. “Ok, what did you find?”

Desperately he sighed. “Nothing whatsoever,” he drummed his fingers on the armrest. “I need more clues.”

“Anything on the website?”

“No,” he muttered. Suddenly, Sherlock’s phone buzzed. The detective took it and saw that someone sent him a message.

You know where to find me.

- Y/N

He smiled as he read your text. “I’m going to take a walk,” he said as he stood up on his feet.

“What? Seriously? A walk?” John asked in disbelief.

Sherlock buttoned his jacket, then put on his coat and took his gloves. “Helps to think. You know, some fresh air and that stuff,” he gestured with his hands.

“What?” He inquired as he frowned confused.

“Just keep typing,” he said and walked out the room. “Oh, by the way, don’t you dare to post a picture of me wearing the damn hat!” He ordered and John heaved a sigh.

Sherlock hailed a cab and gave the cabbie the adress the place he would meet you.

Once he arrived to empty shell of Battersea Power Station, he walked in the abandoned structure hoping he would meet you there.

As he walked along a corridor he received anothet text of yours.

You’re getting slow.

- Y/N

Sherlock smirked, blocked the screen and kept walking until he reached a large room. He looked around him but he couldn’t see you.

“Walking around a power station, must be dangerous,” he said out loud. “I pressume you’re aware of it…” He trailed off as you walked into view.

“And I assume that you love danger,” you said challenging him.

“Mrs. Y/S, nice to see you,” he greeted as he marched over to you. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I thought you took a day off,” he guessed and then stopped in front of you.

You gave a subtle chuckle. “Don’t be silly, Mr. Holmes. You know, I don’t take days off,” you replied as you looked at him. “Now, I’ve seen you’ve been struggling with this new game of yours,” you said playfully.

“I’m afraid I am. Do you have anything for me?” He asked and raised an eyebrow. You took a pendrive from the pocket of your coat and handed it to him. “And this is?”

“The end of the game,” you gave a smirk as Sherlock gave it a look. “It’s all in there. Does he know?” You inquired but he ignored you since he was thinking about the case. “Does he know?” You repeated the question and cleared your throat.

“Sorry, what?” He frowned and then realized what you meant. “No. I wouldn’t let that happen. I’m keeping him busy - at least for now.”

“Great, because I don’t like someone blogging about me,” you said and he chuckled. “Alright,” you sighed. “This is the moment when I walk out,” you smirked and began walking away, Sherlock stood in his place watching you go. “Try not to get in trouble, it would totally spoil the bussiness, Mr. Holmes.”

“Sherlock,” he said and you looked at him over your shoulder. “Just Sherlock,” you heard him and chuckled.

“Right then, Sherlock,” you said and faded out. Sherlock stood there playing with the pendrive in his hands as he smirked.

My dear Watson,

I write these few lines through the courtesy of Mr. Moriarty, who awaits my convenience for the final discussion of those questions which lie between us. He has been giving me a sketch of the methods by which he avoided the English police and kept himself informed of our movements. They certainly confirm the very high opinion which I had formed of his abilities.

I am pleased to think that I shall be able to free society from any further effects of his presence, though I fear that it is at a cost which will give pain to my friends, and especially, my dear Watson, to you.

I have already explained to you, however, that my career had in any case reached its crisis, and that no possible conclusion to it could be more congenial to me than this.

Indeed, if I may make a full confession to you,

I was quite convinced that the letter from Meiringen was a hoax, and I allowed you to depart on that errand under the persuasion that some development of this sort would follow. Tell Inspector Patterson that the papers which he needs to convict the gang are in pigeonhole M., done up in a blue envelope and inscribed “Moriarty.”

I made every disposition of my property before leaving England, and handed it to my brother Mycroft.

Pray give my greetings to Mrs. Watson,

and believe me to be, my dear fellow, very sincerely yours,

Sherlock Holmes


The Final Problem x His Last Vow

{ acd x bbc sherlock remix: 11/? }

The Woman I Used To Know


Summary: What if Sherlock discovers that you, his fiancé, turn out to be an assassin?

Request:

Can u do a story where greg (or sherlock, take your pick) are on a case and the reader is the murderer (lots of thrill and stuff) also, love all of your story, keep it up :)

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Title: ‘The Woman I Used to Know’

Content: Angst / Thriller

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

Word count: 1.903

A/N: Alright. I picked Sherlock because I knew he was going to make justice to the plot. Firstly, I have to thank the nice fellow for requesting this idea; I loved writing this one-shot. Secondly, this scene gets me all the time (the one where Mary tells John the truth at 221b - ‘His Last Vow’.) I cannot stop pressing the repeat button, tears all over my face. Thirdly, I’m thinking about a second part but first you tell me what do you think about it, would you?

The Woman I Used to Know

The Woman I Used to Know: The Morstan Sisters

The Woman I Used to Know: Magnussen

The Woman I Used to Know: You’re Safe Now

The Woman I Used to Know: The Truth


*gif not mine


Once he fell to the floor, you aimed Vladik Melnikoff, a Russian trained assassin who was hired by an old friend of yours, with your gun. “Who are you, Vladik Melnikoff and what do you want?” You asked him but he didn’t reply. “Ok. How about this? Your boss; I want their name,” you asked. Angrily, you lifted your foot and put it onto his hurt arm. The man cried out in pain. “Don’t be shy. Say it. Tell me their name,” you gave him a second chance as you pressed your lips. “A name!” you shouted with rage since the hired assassin didn’t answer your question but by then, he was dead. Blood was surrounding him.

Suddenly, you heard someone walking towards you. You closed your eyes tightly as you cursed under your breath. “I’ve thought torturing people was not your thing,” a man with a deep voice said. It was him. How did he find you? Your breath was heavier and your heart was beating faster than usual. “Would you mind to turn around…” he asked with no expression on his face and his eyes on your back. “Y/N?” He called; you pressed your lips and swallowed afraid. How would he react? Would he call the police and arrest you? Would he protect you?

You took a deep breath, threw the gun and turned around to face your soon-to-be husband and his best friend. As John folded his arms, Sherlock marched over to you but before looking at you he knelt down to pick up the gun. He grabbed it, uncharged it and shoved the bullets into his right coat pocket. You let out an anguished sigh. When your eyes met you could see anger in his. “Baker Street. Now,” he muttered and then turned around to walk away, you followed him. You drew in a sharp breath, apparently fighting off tears.

During the journey to Baker Street, no one said a word. You glanced at Sherlock but he was too upset to look at you so he kept looking through the window. John tried not to turn your gaze at you either. They were both extremely mad at you.

A few minutes later, the cab pulled up at Baker Street. Sherlock opened the door of the living room and walked in, you followed him up the stairs and John was behind you. Once inside the flat, John slammed the door loud enough to scare you.

You walked slowly towards the dining table as you took off your coat. You placed it on the table. Sherlock stood by the fireplace and John leaned his back against the wall by the door. The detective’s eyes were on you and his arms were folded.

“Ooh Ooh,” Mr. Hudson hurried towards Sherlock and put her right hand on his shoulder. You and the doctor turned your gazes to her. “Sherlock, John,” she greeted. John gave her a tight smile. “Y/N!” She looked at you worried. “What’s going on? I heard someone screaming downstairs as I was cleaning this mess of yours, Sherlock Holmes,” she asked and scolded, a worried look on her face.

“Don’t get me wrong, Mrs. Hudson but your presence is hard to take right now,” Sherlock said coldly as he glared at you.

“Sherlock,” you muttered but John cut you off.

He looked at you, “Good. I mean, first Mary…now, you.” He exclaimed and put both hands on his hips.

“Who do you work for?” The sociopath asked with a quiet and serious voice.

“I don’t work for anyone, Sherlock,” you answered looking at him shyly.

“You’re an assassin; you must work for someone,” he snapped with an unreadable face.

You got closer to him. “I’m telling you the truth. I don’t work for anyone,” you replied raising your voice shaking.

“So why did you do this?” he asked you. Sherlock had a small fixed humourless smile on his face as his eyes remained locked on you.

“I-I-I did it for my own sake,” you confessed as you hesitated. “People like him…” you stopped and sighed knowing that this was going to make him freak out.

“Who?” he asked and frowned, his anger still present.

“Sherlock…” you muttered.

Who do you work for?!” he shouted at you furiously. His eyes met yours as you pulled back.

Mrs. Hudson jumped terrified and scuttled to the kitchen. “Oh, the neighbours!” She cried.

The army doctor, who saw the detective breathing heavily tried to calm him down. “Sherlock, slow down.”

“No, John,” he shouted as he glared at you. “I want to know who you work for,” he asked lowering his voice.

“If I’d tell you, you would leave me and never return back,” you said as you tried to hold back your tears. “And I swear you, that it would break my heart into pieces.”

“I don’t mind what the consequences will be,” he stated firmly. “I’m just asking you a single question. Just one, Y/N. Who do you work for?“ He asked once more, his voice and his face were full of barely-controlled anger.

“I don’t work for anyone. I am on my own. He was following me with the purpose of killing me,” you replied calmly. “I have been hiding from Moriarty and that implied killing the ones who were tracking me, that’s all. That’s all I have done, just protect myself.”

“Sorry, but what did you do to deserve Moriarty’s hate?”

Sherlock looked at his friend over his shoulder with exasperation. “John, shut up,” he asked and then turned his gaze back to you. “Why?” He stared at you upset, though he blinked repeatedly. “Why me? Why did you choose me, huh? Why didn’t you pick the first man you could have stumbled with down the street? “

“Because I never knew he was going to play with you. Because I love you, and I always did,” you confessed trying to hold back the tears. “I never thought that I would fall in love with a sociopath who played with the devil itself.”

“People have died.”

“And I still can’t fall sleep without thinking about my actions before,” your voice broke yet you stood still. “That’s why I’ll have to carry a cross for the rest of my life,” you said. “So if you truly love me, just kill me.“

“Don’t be absurd,” he heaved a sigh and paused. “I’m taking the case,” he accepted without being asked.

“What case?” You asked perplexed.

Yours,” he looked at you right in the eyes seriously.

John took two steps forwards. “Seriously? You’re going to do that again?”

“John, I told you to shut up,” turned towards him furiously.

You dried a tear that had fallen down on your cheek. “How’s that gonna look, Sherlock? A detective with a criminal?”

“I don’t care how’s that going to look, I’m doing it because Moriarty played with you,” he replied with an angry whisper, leaning towards you while pointing down to the fireplace. “You’re not my fiancé, you’re a client now,” He turned briefly towards John, gave him a nod and then looked back to you. John picked up one chair and put it down facing the two armchairs of theirs. Slowly Sherlock walked towards his leather armchair and sat down, and then John joined him. “Sit down,” he emphasised both words. He tilted his head to the chair and you obeyed.

Before you could said a word John looked at you and cleared his throat. “What do you know so far?” You asked Sherlock, who was looking at the fireplace. The detective didn’t say a word. “I know you, Sherlock. The fact that I’m an assassin and a smart woman doesn’t mean that you’re not better than me.”

“I never said that.”

“Then, what do you know so far?” You asked him loudly and he turned his gaze to you.

Sherlock scanned you and made some deductions based on what he had seen an hour ago. “Judging by the way you type when you’re texting, I presume you know how to use the Morse code. Your shooting skills, they are better than mine – unfortunately – so you must be also a sniper. I assume that you worked for someone for a couple of years, then you quitted. Liar; shame on you,” he spoke quietly and sighed; then he continued. “It was blackmail,” he stopped for a second to smirk, you and John paying attention. “You had information that he wanted back, so he tracked you. You’ve been undercover at least for six years so they could not find you. But when you heard he died and that the web was finished you returned to your ‘normal’ life – if you can call it like that. It seems that you’ve never heard about me, apparently; but who knows? Have I missed anything?”

“You know me well,” you said and gave him a small smirk as you were proud of him.

John froze for a moment. “So, you just wanted to protect yourself from Moriarty?” he pointed at you with his pen. “Then why did you kill these two people?” He showed you the files of the last two cases they couldn’t solve since you were the murderer and they had never suspected you. “I don’t understand,” John shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. Sherlock glanced at him and then turned his gaze away to think.

“Because she saved our lives, John.”

John and you looked at him. You felt proud but John…John was shocked. “How? Why would she save our lives? I mean you’re involved in these two cases, Y/N,” he finger pointed at you.

“Because if she wouldn’t have killed them, they would kill us. Knowing that we’re her weaknesses they tracked us and planned our deaths.”

“Oh, Jeez,” John ran a hand all over his face and then looked at you.

Sherlock had his eyes fixed on the nowhere as he tried to think. “But the question is ‘why me’?” he muttered and then looked at you. “Why did you fall in love with me? Why did I fall in love with you?” he asked you as he gestured with his hands.

“Like you said a year ago, I’m addicted to a certain lifestyle and that I’m abnormally attracted to dangerous situations and people,” John randomly said. “Well, so are you, Sherlock,” he finished.

“But she was not supposed to be like that,” his eyes fixed on his friend as he breathed rapidly and deeply.

“Mary wasn’t either; but I still love her,” he assured calmly.

“She is a murderer!” he pointed at you, his voice a little stronger. Your heart broke at the moment he called you like that. Tears fell down o your cheeks.

John looked down to his notebook for several seconds and then turned his gaze up directly into Sherlock’s eyes. “But you chose her, anyway,” he simply said the truth.

“You may not love me now, but he’s right,” you said with your voice full of suppressed of tears. “You did let me enter your life because you wanted to.”

“I’m taking the case,” he just said without looking neither to you nor John. He stood up on his feet and walked away.

“Sherlock…” John said as you both watched him march over to the doorway. “Where are you going?” He asked but his friend ignored him. “Great, I think someone will have to put off the wedding,” he shook his head, stood up and headed to the kitchen to make some tea leaving you there alone.

You lowered your gaze down and looked at your hands. They were cold. You glanced at your engagement ring and then started playing with it. You turned your gaze up and took it off. It was the most beautiful thing that could represent the love between you and the detective. You smiled but then closed your eyes, pressed your lips and heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry,” you sadly whispered, took the ring and put it into one of Sherlock’s drawers.

You sighed, rose from the chair, took your things and without bothering John you walked out the flat to go back home.