favourite female villainsjamie moriarty (elementary)

 ’My first instinct was to kill you. Quietly. Discreetly. But then, the more I learned about you, the more curious I became. Here, at last, seemed to be a mind that… that rivaled my own, something too complicated and too beautiful to destroy… at least without further analysis.

anonymous asked:

So, here it goes… Joan wakes up at her new place to the sounds of someone in her kitchen and Clyde climbing over her. According to Sherlock, Clyde’s been missing her so he thought of bringing the pet for a visit.

This is my first time writing for these two, so forgive me if I haven’t got the characters quite right yet.Thanks for the prompt!


It takes Joan a minute to realize where she is when she wakes. She can feel the familiar weight of Clyde crawling across her blankets and hear Sherlock in the kitchen making breakfast. She yawns, stretches her arms above her head and opens her eyes. 

She’s not in her old room in the brownstone. She’s in her new place, the place she was so keen to get, but always seems to feel cold and empty now that she’s moved in.

It takes her another minute to realize that if she’s in her house, Clyde shouldn’t be on her bed and Sherlock should not be in her kitchen. At least, she assumes it’s him. She doesn’t know anyone else who would break in and put a tortoise in her bed.

With a sigh, more fond exasperation than actual annoyance, she swings her legs over the side and climbs out. Grabbing a cardigan from the chair in the corner and carefully picking up Clyde, she leaves her room and heads downstairs.

She can smell an omelet cooking, and her stomach growls. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss this part of living with Sherlock; waking up to find a delicious, painstakingly prepared breakfast waiting for her. 

“You know, you do have a kitchen in your own home.” She says by way of greeting, as she walks through the door to see him standing by the stove.

He turns to look at her over his shoulder, his face unreadable, before he narrows his eyes.

“Clyde missed you.”

She places the creature carefully on the floor before moving to sit at the table. He’s already put out plates and glasses filled with orange juice. It’s nice, homely. Familiar.

“Oh. Clyde missed me?” She parrots back, a skeptical look on her face, even as he puts a perfectly folded cheese omelet on her plate.

“He has trouble sleeping. I thought a visit might do him good.” He says calmly.

She knows he’s not talking about the tortoise. She’s not stupid. But she feels a pang of regret at the thought of him stuck in that house alone, missing her, talking to pets and skulls like he did before she arrived.

“Alright. But that doesn’t explain the omelet.” She plays along, because that’s what they do; humor each other.

“You have nice frying pans. I wanted to try out the… Non stick feature.” He doesn’t look at her as he serves his own breakfast, taking the seat opposite before tucking in.

“So you came to my house at eight in the morning because your tortoise missed me and you wanted to try out my frying pans?” There’s a smile on her face. Because it’s so him. It’s so them.

“He’s our tortoise. And yes.”

“Okay.” She acquiesces, because she’s just as reluctant as he, to admit that she misses this too.

“Eat your omelet. It’s getting cold.”

In 1st grade, you may have 2 boyfriends.
And one day you might be playing at recess and have your first kiss.
But over the years, it will just be a silly memory.

In 2nd grade, you may be in a different class from those boys and forget they were ever even your boyfriends.
And you might have the biggest crush on a dirty blonde haired boy in your class that doesn’t like you back.
But over the years, it will just be a silly memory.

In 5th grade, you may date a boy for a week and then date his bestfriend after you break up but they won’t be mad at each other.
And over the summer you might break up with him over the phone for the boy around the corner.
But over the years, it will just be a silly memory.

In 6th grade, you may date 10 boys but find a special one and think you’ve “fallen in love.”
And this might be the first time you cry over a boy, have a somewhat real first kiss and maybe even learn how to actually feel something.
But over the years, it will just be a silly memory.

In 7th grade, you may still be dating the same boy but a bad boy will come along and get in the way.
And you probably won’t last long with him because it was never worth it in the first place.
But over the years, it will just be a silly memory.

In 9th grade, you may go into high school with high hopes to find a new boyfriend.
And nothing may work out, and soon you might start to look at girls differently..
But over the years, it will just be a silly memory.

In 10th grade, you may date a girl and find out how it feels to love something unconditionally.
And she may break your heart and tear you to pieces.
But over the years, it will just be a silly memory.

In 11th grade, you may still think about that same girl but it will become more and more faint everyday.
And you will learn how to love yourself and how to value yourself.
And over the years, this lesson will stick with you and not just be a silly memory.

—  G.R.

You saw that I was in a raw state, and you stayed to see me through it. Now, when I learned of the lie, however, I deliberately adopted a more sanguine mood. I wanted you to see that I was well again so you could… move on. But the most curious thing happened. You stayed. Days passed, then a week. It became clearer and clearer that you were not staying for me, but for yourself.