This is for @dmollyc. Love you, sweetness! Thanks go to @mizjoely and @mrsmcrieff for looking it over for me and making some great suggestions. Bless! It’s rated K+ and there is an element of truth to the case mentioned (or at least I heard that it was true!). You can also read it on AO3 and FF.net. Enjoy ~Lil~
“And then I realised that it wasn’t a random attack.” Sherlock said smugly before taking a drink of his wine.
“How!?” John’s date asked, clearly impressed. “He was attacked by wild squirrels!”
“It’s obvious,” Molly interjected causing all three heads to turn toward her.
Angela, John newest girlfriend, looked thoroughly shocked. “It is?”
Sherlock folded his arms across his chest. “Okay, Miss Hooper. Enlighten us.”
Holding up a hand, Angela said, “Wait! You already know, right?”
“No,” Molly answered. She hadn’t heard about this latest case, having just returned from a conference in Edinburgh. “I haven’t been in the lab for nearly a week.”
“But surely he told you,” the other woman said. “I assume he tells you about all of his cases, just like John tells me.”
John turned to his girlfriend. “I didn’t tell you about this one.”
“You said you wanted to give Sherlock something to talk about. How did you put it? Oh, yes. He’ll want his ego stroked,” she said, doing her best John impersonation (which was pretty good, much to John’s dismay).
“Ah, sweetheart…” the doctor started.
“It’s okay, John. I’m quite used to your pejorative description of me,” Sherlock said, looking only slightly offended. “At any rate, Molly was about to dazzle us with her deductive skill.” He winked at her as he spoke.
Molly giggled and rolled her eyes.
“All right. It was the ex girlfriend,” she proclaimed proudly.
“You’ve talked to Lestrade,” John accused.
“No. I just got in this afternoon. Barely had time to unpack before this one,” She motioned to Sherlock. “came storming into my flat, demanding that I accompany him to meet the new girl. His words.”
“Okay, okay. You’re clean. Now, how did you know it was the ex girlfriend, and furthermore, how the hell did she do it?” Angela asked.
“Elementary my dear, Angela,” Molly said cheekily. “The ex was a retired…” She paused, looking around the restaurant, then her gaze landed on Sherlock and she finished, “…lion trainer.”
John gasped, Angela squealed and Sherlock beamed.
“Go on,” the detective encouraged, leaning closer to his pathologist. “How did I figure it out?”
“Wait a minute,” Anglea protested. “Maybe John figured it out.”
Everyone laughed in unison, including John himself.
Sherlock waved his hand toward Molly. “I can’t wait to hear how you got that from the little I told about the case.”
She turned toward him, tossing her napkin onto her finished plate. “You said he was attacked by a scurry of squirrels. Was bitten… twenty-four times?”
“Squirrels aren’t pack hunters; they eat nuts, for God’s sake. And even if they can be somewhat aggressive, I’ve never heard of an organised squirrel attack.” She turned to her dinner companions. “Have you?”
John and his date both shook their heads.
“They must have been trained. Like those squirrels in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” she continued.
“What?” Sherlock asked.
“Never mind. It wouldn’t make sense to you even if I explained it,” she said to Sherlock, then turned and addressed the couple across the table. “Anyway, she must have somehow lured them into her house and trained them to attack the ex.” Tapping her index finger against her chin she said, “But how…”
Sherlock started to speak up, but was stopped when she whipped her head back to him.
“You found a standee of the boyfriend in her home!” she proudly proclaimed.
“Bloody hell,” John mumbled. “Now there’s two of them.”
Sherlock paid his blogger no mind, his eyes completely focused on Molly. “How?” he asked, in a gruff voice.
“I worked it out,” she said proudly.
“Impressive,” Sherlock said, leaning closer, putting his arm on the back of her chair looking her directly in the eyes. Molly was staring back just as intently.
“You two are absolutely adorable,” Angela said, pulling them out of their ‘moment’.
“I’m sorry, what?” Molly asked, confused.
John, on the other hand, knew exactly what she meant. And it was trouble.
Angela looked at his friends dreamily. “How’d you guys meet anyway?”
Sherlock finally pulled his eyes off of Molly and explained, “It was her third day at St. Barts. I came in with Lestrade to examine a body that we thought was the latest victim of a serial killer.” He looked off into the distance. “Not nearly enough of those anymore.”
“Sherlock…” Molly admonished.
“Right, I keep forgetting that it’s considered unacceptable to wish for more killings. Anyway, Mike Stamford introduced us. I instantly realised that I had a chance to work with a highly skilled and intelligent pathologist. I was thrilled,” he said with a smile.
Molly scoffed. “You deduced me, you great git!”
“Of course I did; it’s what I do.”
“You pointed out the cat sick on my shoes and said that I hadn’t had an intimate relationship in over seven months. Then you said that I needed to change deodorant!” Molly proclaimed.
“Yes, but I said nice things too. You’re just being negative.”
John, having seen the look on his girlfriend’s face, knew where the whole thing was heading. So he tried to change the subject. “Anyone want dessert?”
“No. I want to hear more about Molly and Sherlock,” Angela said, leaning forward. “Then what happened? Doesn’t sound like you were very fond of him at first.”
Sherlock laughed. Molly cut him a nasty glare.
“Quite the opposite,” the detective said with a grin.
“Yes,” Molly said picking up her wine glass. “I thought he had a fine arse and a bad attitude.”
“You were smitten!” Sherlock protested as he topped up his glass.
“I might have been a little naive those first few years, I’ll admit that.”
“You asked me out after watching me beat a corpse with a riding crop,” he said, turning to her fully, bracing one hand on the table and the other on the back of her chair.
“Oh my God! As if you didn’t know that you were being distractingly sexy that day!”
He leant forward. “Distractingly sexy, ah?” His voice was suddenly lower.
Angela was drinking it in like she was watching a romcom, live and in person.
Molly tossed her head back. “HA! Don’t, Sherlock! It doesn’t work anymore.”
“Why doesn’t it work anymore?” Angela asked, riveted.
Molly sat her glass down. “Well see, about a year ago, I get this phone call…”
“I had no choice, Molly, you know that,” Sherlock interrupted.
She waved him off. “I know, I know. Back to what I was saying…” Then Molly launched into the tale of Eurus, leaving out the parts about her being Sherlock’s sister and killing his childhood friend, she basically just gave the pertinent points. “He came round my flat two days later, explaining that he didn’t mean to hurt me and we’ve been fine ever since,” she said, finishing the story, a satisfied look on her face.
Angela, on the other hand, looked crushed. “That’s it?”
“Yes,” Molly answered. “What were you expecting?”
“You two aren’t a couple?”
Molly laughed, a little too loudly in John’s opinion. “Oh, good God no!”
Sherlock didn’t appear amused at all.
“But…but…” poor Angela tried to form a sentence, but seemed too heartbroken to continue.
“It’s not that ridiculous, Molly,” Sherlock said, draining his glass.
She turned to him and said, “Yes it is. Worse than that, it’s impossible.”
“And why is that?” he asked, obviously offended. “Once was a time, Molly…” Again, his voice dropped an octave and John considered dousing the man with a glass of water.
“Yes, once was a time… But that time is no more,” she said emphatically.
“Are you absolutely certain, Dr. Hooper?” Sherlock said, his voice dripping with so much sexuality, it was actually embarrassing.
Molly opened her mouth to respond, but John tried to pull everyone’s attention to him as he stood. “Go to the restroom with me, Sherlock.”
Not taking his eyes off of Molly, Sherlock replied, “No, I don’t think I will.”
The detective turned and sneered. “Because we aren’t fourteen year old girls.”
“I need to…” Damnit… He couldn’t think of an excuse. Then one hit him. “I need you to look at a mole on my back!” Oh, bugger, that’s stupid and a little gross.
“Shouldn’t you see a dermatologist for that, John?” Molly asked, looking concerned.
“No, no. He’s right. I can spot a melanoma from twenty yards,” the detective said as he stood. “Lead the way.”
John breathed a sigh of relief as they walked to the men’s lav.
Once they reached the hallway outside the restroom, John grabbed his friend’s arm. “What the hell are you doing?”
“You asked me to come…”
“No, you idiot. With Molly. Stop flirting with her, stop it with the voice trick and for the love of God, don’t try to convince her to fall in love with you again. It’s cruel!” he said in a frustrated whisper.
“I’m not…” He paused, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Okay, fine. I was. But really, what’s wrong with it? We’re on a double date, are we not?”
“NO, no we’re not! This is me introducing my girlfriend to my two best friends. My two best friends who are NOT in a relationship and never will be. Those aren’t my words, Sherlock, they’re yours.”
John Watson may not be observant, but he had a good memory and he clearly remembered a very long and painful conversation between himself and his best friend not six months ago…
“I think might have made a mistake, John,” Sherlock said as they sat in Baker Street one afternoon.
“Telling Molly that I didn’t mean it when I said I loved her,” the detective explained.
“You… do love her?”
“Maybe?” he answer, confused.
John sighed. “You know, if you were anyone else, if Molly were anyone else, I’d say go for it. See if it works. See how you feel. But this isn’t a good idea, Sherlock.”
“You don’t think…”
“I’d say, in this case, maybe isn’t good enough.”
They went back and forth for over an hour, Sherlock trying to express his feelings, John trying to figure out if his friend was really in love or just lonely.
Finally frustrated and hurting for the other man, John said, “Molly’s been through enough. She deserves to be loved completely, Sherlock. If you can’t do that, then you have to let this go.”
Sherlock was lost in thought for a solid ten minutes; eventually he stood up and said, “I won’t ever pursue Molly Hooper. You’re right, John. We won’t be in a relationship. Ever.” It sounded like he was confirming it for himself, more than for John’s benefit.
He then went to the kitchen to start an experiment. John worried about the fallout, but there was none. Even though Sherlock spoke very little for the rest of the day, he acted completely normal the next time John saw him. And the first time the pair walked into the Path lab to ask for Molly’s assistance, it was as if nothing had changed. John was incredibly relieved.
“You’re right, of course,” Sherlock said, the same defeated tone in his voice that John remembered from six months before. Then he seemed to shake it off. “I just got carried away. You and Angela seem so happy and…” He cleared his throat and fiddled with his cufflinks. “I’ll apologise later, when I drop her home. She’ll understand; she always does.” He started to walk back toward the dining room. “Though I blame your new girl, John. She clearly ships us.”
“Ships?” John said, as he jogged to catch up with the man. “How do you know about shipping?”
“I know a lot of things.”
“Yeah, but ships?”
“I’m a man of the world, John. And I’ve been on Tumblr.”
John was happy to see that Sherlock seemed to be right back to his old self again.
But as soon as they reached the dining room once again, everything went straight to hell.
Molly was standing next to the table talking to a man who looked to be in his late thirties. Why does he look familiar? John wondered. He was average height, had light brown hair and brown eyes. He was also, unfortunately for him, pretty good looking. When he and Sherlock were about five feet from the table the man grabbed Molly around the waist, hugging her tightly and kissing her on the cheek.
John had no time to react. Sherlock took the man by his shoulder, spinning him around to face him. Molly tried to speak, but before anyone could do, well, anything, Sherlock had punched the man square in the mouth.
“What the hell, Sherlock!?” Molly exclaimed.
The detective turned to her and said, “I don’t know why I ever listened to John. He’s always wrong!”
Molly looked horrified. “What?!”
“It’s not maybe, Molly. I do love you! And I won’t have some random man groping you during our date.” He finished it off, dramatically of course, by pulling her close and kissing her passionately. The whole scene looked like it had been scripted by some first year film student.
John groaned and Angela cheered as the restaurant staff tried to help the 'groper’ up off the floor. Thankfully he looked fine (except for the bloody lip).
The kiss ended, finally, and Molly stepped away, she seemed a bit bewildered. She walked over to the man and asked if he was okay. Sherlock looked crestfallen. The man nodded as Molly whispered to him while she examined his lip. Seemingly satisfied, she turned her attention back to Sherlock.
“Can you explain what that was about?” she asked, her hands on her hips.
“Ah, well… you see…” he trailed off, never really finishing the sentence.
“Great. Suddenly you can’t speak.” She turned to look at John. “Any idea?”
“He’s an idiot?” John said.
“Yeah, I get that. But why did he just punch my cousin Bernard?”
Angela simply couldn’t contain herself anymore. “Oh God! He’s so stupidly in love with you he didn’t even recognise the family resemblance! It’s so freaking adorable!” she practically squealed and John wondered if he could break up with her on the ride home, or would he have to wait until the next day.
Molly looked at Sherlock. “Is that true?”
A hushed silence fell as the entire restaurant seemed to be waiting for the answer.
“Yes,” he returned in a small voice.
“And when did you realise this? Was it the squirrels, because that was mostly just dumb luck.”
“It was not and you know it,” he said. “And I’ve been thinking about it for…” The last words were mumbled, completely unintelligible.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
He sighed. “First of all, I need to make it clear that this is entirely John Watson’s fault. He said I shouldn’t pursue a relationship with you when I talked to him about it six months ago.”
Molly glared at John for a moment, then turned back to the detective. “Because you always listen to John.”
“About things of which I have no experience? Yes.”
“Continue, and make it good or I won’t try to talk Bernard out of pressing charges.”
He studied her for a long moment before moving toward her, taking her hands in his. “I’m sorry I punched your cousin in a… fit of jealous rage.” Molly nodded. “And I’m sorry that I asked an imbecile for dating advice.” She nodded again. “But mostly, I’m sorry I didn’t do all of this years ago. Forgive me, Molly.” He kissed her cheek then moved back to wait for her reply.
After several tense moments she said, “Okay. I suppose you’re forgiven. And you know very well how I feel about you, Sherlock. Don’t expect me to proclaim it in the middle of a restaurant with my injured cousin looking on.”
“I can accept that.”
“You’ll have to.” She turned and addressed Bernard. “You want us to run you to the hospital?”
“No! God no! And please don’t invite me to the wedding,” he said, slowly backing away.
“I’m going to go speak with the owner and try to intercept the police,” Sherlock said.
“Well, that was the best date I’ve ever had,” Angel said as she picked up her handbag.
“A day in the life…” John said, as he helped her with her jacket.
Molly walked up to him. “You told Sherlock Holmes not to ask me out?”
“Ah, yeah. I was worried that he would hurt you, Molls. You’re not mad, are you?” He laughed uncomfortably.
She grabbed her bag and wrap then said, “Let’s just say you have a long way to go if you want to be invited to the wedding, John Hamish Watson.” Then she stormed away.
“Oh, she’s pissed off,” Angela said, taking his arm. “Maybe avoid parks and hiking trails for a while. She seemed pretty keen about that squirrel trick.”
Servo: …turns off the hose, climbs down from the ladder, turns to the clown and says, “What? and quit show business?” *laughs* Joel: Tom, I’d really love to laugh at that, but I’m the one who told it to you, essentially. I programmed it into your memory, remember? Servo: Oh, yeah. Joel: Oh, here’s one you’ll like. You’ll wanna get this. You’ll like this. Okay, there’s these four monks, an albino squirrel, and a shoe factory, okay? Servo: *laughs* Crow: Hey, there’s a ship coming into range! Joel: Okay, you can tell your joke when I’m done, alright? Crow: But, no… it’s, uh, no joke. There’s– *sigh* Joel: –or your anecdote, or whatever you got… but, anyway, there’s these four monks, and they work on a construction crew… this is neat… they work on a construction crew at the monastery, okay? Servo: Uh-huh.
Crow (trying to speak over Joel): Joel. Joel. Joel. Joel: And they just get done working on some of the stations of the cross, and they see this albino squirrel who carries it really well… Crow (trying to speak over Joel): Joeljoeljoeljoel. Joeljoeljoeljoeljoeljoeljoeljoel. Joel. Joel. Joel. (Crow is repeatedly nudging or bumping into Joel) Joel: Oh, would you cut that out!? Crow: Well, hey… jeez, what a grouch! It’s the only way I could get your attention! Servo: Hey, there’s a ship coming into range! Crow: *dies inside and sighs, shaking his head* Joel: Willikers, he’s right! Cambot, gimme rocket number nine, pronto!
(doorbell sounds) Editor’s Note: Yes, the spaceship is just a house, floating in space. Deal with it.
Mike: Hello, boys. Joel & the Bots(in unison): Hugh Beaumont!? Mike: Oh, come on, call me ‘dad.’ Joel: Gee, sir– I mean, dad, what’re you doing here? Mike: Well, you see, boys, uh… I’m one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, and, uh… I come bearing a message of unholy death. Joel & the Bots (in unison): Oh… huh!? Mike: That’s right, I’m really gonna give you the business… destroy you, your world and all that you know. But first, a stern talking-to. You know, you boys shouldn’t be so hard on that movie. A lot of people worked quite hard to bring that movie to you. Crow: Gee, I guess we shouldn’t be so quick to judge others, then, huh? Mike: That’s right, Crow. Crow (whispering): He bought it, what a jerk! Mike: Well, I’m glad we learned a little lesson, then. Well, it’s time to die. *lights pipe*
Joel: Gee, sir—I mean, dad, why must you kill all life and matter? Servo: Yeah, can’t you give us another chance? Crow: Please, dad, don’t kill us and take our souls to the afterworld and stuff! Mike: Boys, I… *sighs* I think I owe you an apology. I guess your mother and I got so wrapped up in this 'apocalypse’ thing, I didn’t have time to think how you felt. Servo: Well then, you’re not going to destroy us? Mike: Oh, I don’t see how I could. Well, I’ve gotta get going, I’ve got to catch up to Fred McMurray and the boys, they’re about to destroy Earth. Drink your milk. Joel: What a sweet guy! Crow: Yeah…
If you get lost on every field trip and you
know it clap your hands, if you get lost on every field trip clap your hands, if you get lost on every field trip, and all your teachers
know it, if you get lost on every field trip clap your hands
10 yrs later, you find MINIMUM three separate skulls while
cleaning out ur childhood bedroom
dead things u found in the woods and swore to treasure 4eva
For me, it
was a bird skull, a fox skull, a puffer fish exoskeleton, a (real) rabbit’s
foot, several welk eggcases, a bunch of snakeskin, and a deer skullw/ antlers
Also a lot
of plants but w/e bc my mom didn’t care if I kept those
You touch everything
I’ve set off alarms in 3 major art museums
Deep, instinctual dread of poison ivy if u haven’t had it yet,
inevitable ending in you caving because you ‘can’t take it anymore’ and testing
it on urself
I mean, I
turned out not to be allergic, so……cool?
The final papercraft piece based on this sketch! The four dragons (plus one squirrel), commissioned by busy-old-fool. I love getting to make pieces with lots of characters in them! Balancing all the different patterns can be tricky, but it’s totally worth it to get to show fun character interaction.
Bellarke - Clarke and Bellamy have been sharing a tent for most nights. So when she doesn't show up he goes looking for her. She is in her tent dealing with cramps. He is not pleased that she didn't ask for help.
A/n: something small and fun and well…thank you anon for your prompt! enjoy.
It Just Happened _________________________________________________________
No one knew how it started. Hell, they didn’t know how; it just happened.
Remember the time I found four injured baby squirrels and took them in and named them Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite, Beyonce? And then found out I as breaking wildlife laws by taking them in and was legally stuck with baby squirrels?
And Beyonce died but I ended up raising his brothers (Yes he was a male) and releasing them in secret?
I felt like a really terrible Daenerys Targaryen.
Father of Squirrels. The Unbitten. Breaker of wildlife laws.
I miss them. Liberte was so aggressive, I have a lot of hope for him.
What I have noticed in my small world is that if I praise the wildflowers growing on the hill in front of my house, the following year they double in profusion and brilliance. If I admire the squirrel that swings from branch to branch outside my window, pretty soon I have three or four squirrels to admire…The Universe responds. What you ask of it, it gives…Peace will come wherever it is sincerely invited. Love will overflow every sanctuary given it.