Sherlock always hated having his hair ruffled or having someone play with his curls, having someone run his fingers through the soft strands he’s spent hours taming in front of the mirror.
Even when he was a still child, he always dreaded people’s hands on his head because they never knew how sensitive he was, how badly it hurt when their fingertips grazed over his scalp too firmly, when the pressure was too much to bear with the engine of a brain inside his skull that simply never shut off, rattling and steaming, roaring and raging.
Before he and John are truly a thing, and yet having moved past the stage of ‘we’re just best friends’, his touches are frequent; on his shoulder when Sherlock’s head is buried in the newspaper during breakfast and John walks around the table to get a refill of his coffee, on his wrist during a cab ride in which none of them says anything and they only exchange silent but all-knowing glances as their lips curl upwards, on his ankle when Sherlock’s feet rest in John’s lap when they watch the evening news or a film that Sherlock half-watches, half-predicts. Sherlock is content with how things are progressing, evolving between them, slowly but steadily.
One night, he’s on the verge of falling asleep on the sofa, but still awake enough to feel a blanket being laid over him, wrapped around him, so he doesn’t get cold. A pair of warm lips brushes over his forehead before he hears the receding sound of two feet clad in woollen socks.
It’s a few nights later that Sherlock dares to rest his head instead of his feet in John’s lap. John looks surprised at first, but then he smiles as one of his hands finds its place on Sherlock’s shoulder. They’re watching the latest bond movie that John has on DVD, and Sherlock is unexpectedly quiet. John’s body is warm, and his fingers draw soothing circles on Sherlock’s shoulder blade. As the movie continues, John’s fingers begin their journey. They swirl around a few curls on the back of Sherlock’s neck, and although Sherlock freezes a little and goes rigid involuntarily, in fear it might be too much, but he starts to enjoy it after a while. John notices, of course he does, and quietly asks, “this all right?” He’s the first to ever ask him this question before touching him.
Sherlock wants to nod, but his head feels heavy and comfortable, so he hums “mhm,” instead. It’s only his nape he focuses on, but it’s enough for now. It’s just right.
And so John keeps going, and he grows to love it. He enjoys it so much it becomes a regular occurrence. At least when they’re in private; when nobody sees. During movie nights, or crap-telly nights or quiet nights in front of the fire. He progresses slowly, always starting in the back of his neck, sometimes that’s all he touches, but as time passes, he ventures further, running his hand through the curly, messy mop on Sherlock’s head. And God, the first time he does it, Sherlock’s entire body is covered in goosebumps. He shivers and can’t help but let out a muffled gasp. John’s hand retreats then, pulling back enough as to not overwhelm him, but never completely, never all at once.
One night, they come back home from an exhausting case that has lasted for over a week. And this time, it’s not adrenaline they feel from having solved it, no, there’s none of that, as rare as it may be, but this time, they’re both drained, fatigued, and knackered. Sherlock hasn’t slept in days, and when he did, his brain wouldn’t shut off properly; John’s only taken power-naps, which have lost its power-giving function on day three. Sherlock is so worked up, adrenaline and weariness fighting for the upper hand inside him, he lets his coat and jacket fall over the backrest of his armchair and sits down, groaning in frustration. His fingers dig hard into his curls, pulling, pressing against his scalp, almost tearing, to make it stop, to just make it quiet. But it won’t, the engine simply rattles on, puffing and blowing and–
releasing steam when …
two hands reach for his own, unclench his fists and remove his hands from the raging machine inside him. “Come on,” John whispers almost inaudibly, pulling him to his feet. “Into bed with you.”
“I know,” is all John says as he guides him down the corridor, into Sherlock’s bedroom. The room is dark except for the light shining through the window from the street lamps.
Sherlock stands there, frozen on the spot. He can hear John exhale quietly and see the tired smile on his lips, and then there are fingers on the buttons of his shirt, pushing each one through its hole. John makes quick work of it; there is nothing suggestive about it as it should be, considering he is undressing him for the first time since … well, this started. But they’re both too tired to think too hard about it or to care, and then Sherlock’s shirt is gone, and he steps out of his trousers and leaves his socks on the floor, and is led to his bed. He doesn’t know how he managed to tell John “Stay,” but somehow he does, and John’s smile widens despite the weight that pulls his lids down and makes his eyes seem so small.
“I’ll be right there,” he tells Sherlock whose fingers cling to the sleeve of John’s jumper that now slips through them like sand. Then he disappears in the dark hall. Sherlock hears the door of their cupboard closing and the tap running, then there are steps growing louder, and then John is back, handing him a glass of water. “Drink,” he says quietly, and Sherlock does without hesitation. Before he finishes, John has already stripped down to his vest and pants and is now sliding into bed behind him. It feels exciting and new, making his chest tingle and his heart beat faster. John takes the glass from him once he emptied it and sets it down on the bedside table. Sherlock turns towards him, resting his head on John’s shoulder, feeling how an arm winds around him protectively and pulls him closer. One hand lies on his waist, but the other disappears in his hair and stays there, motionless at first, and when John feels it’s all right to move, he does so slowly and gently and tenderly.
Sherlock already expects the worst, waiting for the explosion to set off, but nothing of the sort happens. Instead, the buzzing quietens down, the rattling slowly comes to a halt. He dares to take a deep breath. The machine stays silent and still. John has found the off-switch.
“‘nk you,” he mumbles wearily against John’s chest.
“No need,” John whispers, and then, “Sleep well, love.”
If Sherlock weren’t so tired, he’d properly process what John has just said, but instead, he succumbs and is dragged into the peaceful darkness his body has been craving for days, ineffably grateful that the touch of the person who matters the most doesn’t feel excruciating and agonising but soothing, comforting and breathtakingly pleasant.
John and Sherlock trying weeks on end to teach Rosie to walk, but Rosie never working up the courage to leave go off John or Sherlock’s fingers even though the other is there arms outstretched waiting for her.
Until one day, both John is making tea in the kitchen and Sherlock pops his head in the kitchen and Rosie leaves go of the coffee table and toddles over to Sherlock, albeit a bit wobbly, just in time for both Sherlock and John to see her. She nearly tumbles, but grabs onto Sherlock’s pants leg before falling and both John and Sherlock are singing her praises telling her how fantastic and brilliant she is. Sherlock picking her up and raising her above his head and making her giggle loudly and then placing a raspberry on her stomach before passing her onto John who swings her back and forth and praises her effusively which causes her to clap.
my little blog finally hit 700 followers! for months i was stuck in 663 or something and finally this happened (same day when dnpgames hit 3mil!)
during these years i’ve been here, this blog has gone through many changes, from doctor who to sherlock (you can still find the sherlock posts if you dive into the depths of my archive) and now i’m posting mainly dan and phil. this blog brings me so much happiness. i’ve never done anything for follower milestones, but now i’m doing.
these are all my lovely mutuals in random order (under the cut). i wish that we could interact more. but now i only want to say thank you to you all <3
The free class had been on a Thursday and Rosie had spent the entirety of dinner that night explaining to John what they had done in class. She even then gave him demonstrations as she still had her outfit on. Sherlock could not get her to change out of it but decided the enthusiasm was good.
She was sad when she had to get ready for bed but Sherlock had promised her they could practise everyday until Tuesday’s class which they did. They usually ended up practising while John was at work because he had a busy schedule the next few weeks because one of the doctors was still off on maternity leave. Sherlock didn’t mind though, he loved taking Rosie to her classes and watch her progression. She concentrated diligently and was usually the first in the class to master the moves they were taught and then she would help Evan and the other girls who didn’t quite get it.
The first two weeks of class were pretty much the same, the third week they began to expand their moves.
This time they were made to stand in a straight line while they learned the first and second position with their feet. In first position their heels are almost together as if kissing and in second they’re a step apart. The teacher then when on to teach them the arm positions for positions one through five.
The next lesson they learned was the plié. She chose a volunteer from the class and brought her up front, her name was Vanessa. First she had Vanessa stand in the first position and then bend her knees while keeping her heels flat on the ground and making a ‘diamond shape’. The second position for the plié was the same, but instead of making a ‘diamond shape’ this time you made a ‘house shape’. The teacher went around and individually helped each of her students with the instruction and they all seemed to pick it up fairly quickly.
The next position she taught them was the posse. This is where you bring your one foot up to the leg and where you connect your toe to your knee, making sure the knee is facing out to execute the move properly. This move took a little longer to master because of the balance issues. She gave them each homework or practicing this move until they could do it without wobbling too much.
Now that more than half the class was over, the teacher decided they had enough time for one more move. “Alright class to wrap things up before cool down, we are going to learn one more move, the echape sote.”
She began by starting in first position with both arms and feet and then you jump out to second position with arms and feet to finish. This caused the room of toddlers to giggle and it was by far their favourite move of the day. They practised this move several times before doing cool down stretches and being released to their parents.
“Remember children,” the teacher called after them, “to keep practising. You are all doing a wonderful job and in two weeks we shall start some new moves that I think you will all like.”
All the children chattered and clapped and Rosie went over to Evan and told him he did a good job today and that she’d see him next week. Evan’s mum commented to Sherlock about how polite and encouraging Rosie was and that if it hadn’t been for Rosie, Evan wouldn’t have come back and Sherlock stated she had that effect on people. Evan’s mum almost asked Sherlock for coffee until she noticed the wedding band on his finger and was relieved she noticed before making a fool of herself. Sherlock seemed to sense it and just smiled it away and told her he’d see her and Evan at class next week.
This time John had beat Rosie and Sherlock home from class and he was in the kitchen making tea when they walked through the door. “Daddy! You’re home!”
She ran out and grabbed his hand and drug him to his chair and made him sit. Sherlock clicked the kettle off and also joined them in the front room in his chair. Rosie took her coat off and laid it on the coffee table and turned back to her parents.
“Look at what I learned today.”
She began with the first and second positions and moved into the plié, then the posse and then echape sote. And John grinned from ear to ear. “I don’t know, you soon may be giving your papa a run for his money.” He winked at her.
She looked at him quizzically but continued talking about her class, “I helped Evan and some of the other girls with some moves and the teacher said we are all doing good practising on our own and in two weeks we get to learn some new moves.”
John reached across and took Sherlock’s hand and squeezed it, “this was such a good idea. I can’t wait until Marci comes back from leave so I can go along to a class.”
Rosie shrieked, “Daddy, that would be wonderful, I can’t wait! How soon does she come back?”
“Two weeks sweetheart.”
“That’s just in time for you to see the new moves we’ll be learning!” Rosie squealed as she bounced up and down on her feet.
“Why don’t you go put some play clothes on and we’ll call out for takeaway tonight to celebrate?” John asked her.
She frowned, “But I love my ballet outfit.”
“I know you do sweetheart, but we don;t want to get it stained,” he said scooping her up and tickling her belly. She giggled and agreed as long as they could have Thai.
They all agree and John let her down so she could run up to her room to change.
As soon as she was out of sight,John walked over to Sherlock and pulled him into a kiss. “Let me guess, you’re the proudest parent there.”
“Absolutely John. You should see her, She lights up the room and everyone follows her lead but it doesn’t go to her head. She takes after you in that respect.”
“I can’t wait to see her in two weeks.” He leaned in and kissed Sherlock again.
When they broke, John chuckled, “I better go call our order in.”
(Note: this is an Au where Eurus never killed VT and grew up as normal in the Holmes household as the baby of the family, she’s still a sociopath, so this happened…)
“Are you ever going to tell Molly Hooper that you love her?” Was the first thing Sherlock heard upon entering Baker Street after a long case, admittedly he should be used to his little sister showing up at his flat for no reason other than to annoy him, but honestly he thought it was Mycroft’s turn this month .
“And good evening to you too Eurus” Sherlock sighed turning around to find her sitting in his chair casually eating from a tub of (obviously expensive, imported specifically for high priority clients, delivered just two hours ago by a messenger with sweaty hands) Marchetti Gelato, she was wearing the Pajamas Mycroft had give her last Christmas and apparently seemed to have the ludicrous idea that he was back to his eight year old self who’d indulged her in as many pretend tea parties as she wished “I thought you said sleepovers were for goldfishes and amoeba brained females not worth associating with”
(Adult Eurus had never graduated from her ‘force my brothers to play tea party with me’ phase. And unlike Mycroft, who’d easily used his seniority to escape their little sister’s manipulative feminine machinations as soon as humanly possible, Sherlock never really had it in him to push her away)
“And he avoids my question, big surprise there, do have some Gelato, I even had this Ginger Nut flavor comissioned just for you” Eurus smiled extending the tub in his direction “you know that you are my favorite brother don’t you?”
“Yes I am aware, considering that the other option is Mycroft and I always win by default, although I apreciate the effort to sweeten what will undoubtedly be a conversation fraught with manipulation tactics and no I do not love Molly Hooper” Sherlock replied, putting away his bellstaff loosening his scarf and accepting the gelato “speaking of which how is your dear James?”
“Still hiding behind his lawyer in an effort to avoid me” Eurus sighed dramatically with a wave of her hand
“Well to be fair Moriarty isn’t an idiot, I think most men would prefer his high security prison in the middle east over facing your wrath after his failure to remember your aniversary” Sherlock didn’t have to make his disapproval of his sister’s choice of boyfriend known, after all it was the frequent topic of discussion among family dinners and the only subject Mycroft and he agreed on lately, but when it came to life sentences the Holmes brothers didn’t think that there was anything worse than being subjected to Eurus and the mercurial moods she hid under her sociopathic personality, so they both refrained from outright trying to get themselves rid of him.
“As James should” Eurus huffed “but he won’t be able to plead guilty forever if I make sure evidence of the contrary begins to accumulate around him” And considering the latest petty crime Moriarty had pleaded guilty for involved the assassination of a well known Middle East religious leader, Sherlock didn’t doubt his sister’s threat “are we done with your deflections Sherlock?, answer me already, when is that love confession taking place?”
“Very well Eurus, I’ll humor you” the ‘else you’ll never let the subject drop’ was implied but thankfully not voiced, if one thing was true among the Holmes family was that Sherlock loved his like minded sister and rarely left an opportunity to talk to her go to waste “why do you think that I am as you so eloquently put it 'in love’ with Molly Hooper when you know I firmly believe that sentiment is a waste of time”
“Because you are, do you need me to make a PowerPoint presentation to illustrate it?” Eurus snorted, reminding Sherlock of their teenage years and her old perchance for whining about always being right “Anyone with high IQ can see it”
“So Papa has finally given you the grandchildren ultimatum huh?”
“No more than he gave it to Mycroft but that’s not the point”
“Youre his only daughter of course its the point, Papa wants grandbabies to spoil and you as the daddy’s girl that you are, do not want to dissapoint him, you wouldn’t be here trying to matchmake me otherwise” Sherlock shot back smugly “stop saying I’m in love with Molly”
“may I remind you that of all the people in this sentiment riddled universe Molly Hooper is the only one you’ve voluntarily apologized to?”
“It doesn’t prove anything” Sherlock dodged sitting in his armchair “I respect Molly, she’s my friend”
“You analyze her life choices and clothing preferences more than you do any other female in your acquaintance and that includes mummy, Mrs Hudson, Mary Watson and Me” Eurus listed off ticking her fingers “I don’t have much experience with actual friends but as the social manipulation expert in this family I can tell you that friends do not do that”
“I do NOT analyze Molly’s life choices, I deduce them and offer helpful advice, which according to John IS what friends do”
“Then why do you always hold your deductions whenever the topic of sex comes up around her?” Eurus challenged him with a smug smile as if to say 'go ahead, try to deduce yourself out of that question’ “it wouldn’t happen to be because your mind palace automatically supplies complimentary material would it? You used to say that intercourse was part of human nature”
Sherlock internally blanched, his sister really knew too much “because it has come to my attention that talking about someone else’s sexual habits and preferences in a social setting is potentially embarrassing for them”
“I see I’ll have to help you along, honestly your level of denial is quite impressive” If Eurus had been a little younger she’d have reached for fake glasses and written Sherlock’s name on a clipboard like she used to do when she’d mockingly declared she wanted to be a psychologist after her tenure in Sherrinford “why if its potentially embarrassing do you still do it to virtually anyone…exept Molly?”
“Because Molly is different, she’s not an idiot, she’s useful to me and good at her job”
“So you get no satisfaction out of making her feel like an idiot I understand, yet one could argue that Mycroft and I arent idiots either and you infer about our sexual lives often enough” Eurus pointed out taking a spoonful of gelato “why is molly different?”
“Because she is!” Sherlock grunted instantly regretting it by the knowing look his younger sister was giving him “what I mean to say is that, talking to her about the subject never feels correct to me, Molly isn’t …”
“Able to talk about sex like a normal adult? Why Sherlock she’s a healthy woman in her thirties who disects naked human bodies for a living, I would think she’s probably very open about it” Eurus ventured innocently “her past boyfriends seem like they were enjoying themselves at the very least”
“Would you please stop taking about Molly Hooper and sexual expertise in the same sentence!” The consulting detective finally snapped
“You ruin all her relationships”
“Its not my fault that she seems to attract men with criminal tendencies”
“Oh please, you announce to any who can hear the most inconsequential things, who cares if the paralegal with the bleach teeth was evading his taxes? His only crime was talking to your precious pathologist during her lunch break” why was it that Eurus always managed to sound fifteen whenever she tried to meddle in his life?, she was a genius in all parts of her life, but as a sister Eurus Holmes could really be a pain in Sherlock’s ass when she wanted to be"If you haven’t deduced it, I’ll have you know even James could tell that her relationships are your blind spot”
“Please don’t remind me about the famous 'Jim from IT’ considering that masquerading as Molly’s date isnt an ideal way of meeting my younger sister’s psychopath boyfriend ”
“ Life partner” Eurus corrected without missing a beat “James and I don’t use amaeba terms to classify our conection” then remembering something funny she added with a chuckle “The 'Molly factor’ blindsided your deductions so badly you even thought James was gay, as if someone like him would limit himself by the sexuality and gender of his partners”
“Nowdays I even doubt that he’s limited by their consent, species or lack of pulse” Sherlock rolled his eyes, glaring at his sister “But then again he’s saddled with you, so what should I expect? After all I’ve seen his bruises and heard the tortured screams”
“What can I say I like things rough and James is the only man I know who gives as good as he gets” Eurus shrugged and Sherlock had to remind himself that she wasn’t the type to worry about the gender, sexual orientation, lack of consent or inmorality of her sexual acts either “he has a certain je nes se quais that fits me so well”
“Spare me the details Eurus, there’s a reason I never frequent your Knightsbridge flat”
“Me thinks the gentleman doth protest too much, your Molly hasn’t been raised under a rock you know, why, if my airlines didn’t keep me so busy I’d think I might even grow to like her, I would wager my escapes with James wouldn’t shock her”
“Keep your evil machinations away from Molly Hooper sister mine” Sherlock warned narrowing his eyes “You already played you games with John and it almost cost him his marriage, if you so much as try the same on Molly so help me science I will make you regret it”
“Why would I want to make my future sister in law despise me?” Eurus laughed letting Sherlock see in her eyes a glint of the madness she kept firmly under lock and key in the confines of her own mind palace “you should really hasten that love confession Sherlock, you won’t be virile forever you know, after all we don’t know if all those drugs you’ve taken in the past have affected your fertility” she taunted in a sing song voice
“I’m perfectly fertile and perfectly virile! Molly would have nothing to complain about in that aspect” Sherlock exclaimed outraged realizing belatedly thst he’d falken for Eurus’ bait “I meant it in a purely hypothetical situation”
“ARGH I blame Mycroft for this! If he hadn’t put the 'emotions are evil’ mantra in your head you wouldn’t be acting like a preschooler pulling the pigtails of the girl he fancies” Eurus groaned putting her head in her hands “what have I done to deserve this?” The answer : probably a lot
“Funny, Mycroft blames you for crippling Victor’s legs in that blasted well and coloring my perception of human relationships with trauma”
“He locked me in SHERRINFORD for three years because of it, excuse me if I disregard his opinion on the state of your psyche”
Sherlock sighed, he supposed they all were self fulfilling prophecies, being the middle child in a family of geniuses had never been easy, specially because their whole sibling dynamic hinged on Sherlock’s hability to stay neutral in the feud between Eurus and Mycroft, who by all means hated each other during a good day
But Eurus liked Sherlock and Mycroft liked Sherlock so they made an effort to not attempt mutual murder if it kept them in their middle brother’s good graces.
“Sherlock you leave me no choice! If you don’t get your head out of your rectal cavity where Molly Hooper is concerned and tell her that you love her I’ll have to force the issue with Mycroft” Eurus outlined in no uncertain terms, eyes flashing the way they only did when she played violin “and believe me I won’t be as nice to him as I’m to you”
“It would take a battering ram to knock down Mycroft long enough to give papa grandchildren and we both know it” Sherlock exclaimed, then narrowing his eyes the posibility that Eurus was in fact unhinged enough to put her brain to the task of breaking Mycroft “you wouldn’t, even YOU have to draw a line somewhere”
“Andrea has been working with him for how long? Since high school if I’m not mistaken, I happen to know a philanthropic a armament mogul that is looking for a public relations manager and well…How bored must Andrea be in that silly little desk, chained to our brother, doing paperwork all day, a woman of her capabilities deserves more and Mycroft doesnt let her do an ounce of fieldwork, if I happened to offer the position to her, adding the fact that our mogul has the highest number of assassination attempts in any bounty hunter’s book, she’d accept right away, if only to get to use her fancy guns” Eurus began innocently as tough outlining her lunch break plans
Deducing exactly who she was referring to Sherlock groaned “Nikolai Udinov? You would send Andrea to manage the life of that reprobate? Mycroft would never allow it”
“Well what do you expect? If Andrea leaves her job and him for good I calculate that it will take Mycroft less than two months to crack, she does his laundry, paperwork, calls, orders him his cakes, decorates his bunkers, manages his agents with an iron fist, Andrea practically breathes for him and Mycroft needs the wake up call” Eurus smiled with a hint of malice “so many agents have fallen in Udinov’s maze of secrets…It would be a pity if Mycroft’s greek flower was next”
“That’s because Nikolai Udinov is the type of assignment that goverment agents train for years to take on, the bullseye in his back is larger than Mycroft’s ego ” Sherlock snapped wondering again why he hadnt trottled his sister yet “you’d be manipulating Andrea into strong arming Godfather Death”
“Correction Mycroft will THINK she’s taking on Godfather Death” Eurus snapped rolling her eyes “She’ll be fine, I wasn’t lying when I said Agent Anthea is quite competent and she’s been wanting to do fieldwork since her thirtieth birthday, my people will make sure she doesn’t get killed”
Sherlock didn’t even want to ask about who 'her people’ were, like he did with Mycroft and they did with him, the less the Holmes siblings knew about eachother’s ocassional dabblings in the wrong side of the law the better “You’ll just have Mycroft believe she is, but why?”
Eurus huffed tempted to just repeat Sherlock’s famous 'you see but you don’t observe’ dribble that he always spewed to John Watson “Because it will kill Mycroft to lose Andrea and I’ll enjoy seeing him suffer” Eurus shrugged “think about it Sherlock, Andrea has been a fixture in Mycroft’s life since your uni days, the only time you and I see him without her is on social situations and even then she’s always one text away from him, he trusts her with all of his sensitive information”
“You assume that he cares about her” Sherlock snorted mystified “Mycroft doesnt do sentiment Eurus, not even for Andrea”
“Oh how blind my brothers can be when they wish to” Eurus laughed taking out a bag of chips from her purse and biting a couple “I don’t assume, I KNOW, just as I know that you love Molly, the difference is that Andrea is more likely to wait to have children, but as I said I’ll force the issue if I have to”
“If Agent Anthea dies because you wanted to get out of giving our parents grandchildren then forget about Sherrinford, he’ll hire a submarine and drop you in the Atlantic with a crew of deaf personell”
“You could also tell your morgue mouse that you love her, then I wont have to threaten Mycroft’s potted plant”
Eurus like always, had a better grasp of the ins and outs of sentiment than her two elder brothers, a fact both Sherlock and Mycroft often resented, because while Sherlock fought his battles with logic and Mycroft with dry politics, Eurus manipulated people using their emotions against them. She’d rarely used her 'gift’ on Sherlock preferring to keep herself occupied with her chain of airlines and her side work as a data analyst (when she wasn’t dabbling in her illegal hobbies) apparently tough she was doing it now.
Sherlock didn’t find it amusing.
“I suppose I should be grateful that you have not threatened to kill Molly yet and instead chose to talk to me about it in a rational way, isn’t that what your point is?”
“Yes! And I feel deeply offended that you don’t appreciate the gesture, I could have bulldozed trough your childhood traumas just to make you see sense” Eurus huffed clearly not happy by Sherlock’s lack of gratitude “I don’t see why you wont just admit the truth”
“You’re seeing things where they don’t exist, don’t you think that if zi loved Molly I would know?”
“NO! BECAUSE YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND SENTIMENT” she shot back with an angry glare, then Eurus sighed and did the one thing that always brought Sherlock to his knees, she opened her big dark eyes and gave him a very sincere part of her vulnerability “Sherlock” she began, her tone belying how much she wasn’t trying to manipulate him this time “you’ve been there for me trought all the hard things in my life, you who have supported me even in things we both know you knew better than to support…Is it really such a surprise to know that I want to see you happy?”
“as my little sister, wanting to see me happy comes with the territory” Sherlock replied putting the desert down and returning her sincerety “the truth is that I don’t see a future where I can keep Molly safe, I have too many enemies…she deserves better than me, she always has”
“And yet she loves you, all of you, far strongly than you deserve”
“Foolish woman that she is” Sherlock chuckled “I can’t love her Eurus, I’d be placing a red mark in her forehead if I did”
“Sherlock, there’s always going to be Blackwoods, Magnussens and Black Lotus organisations in this world, in fact there’s drunk drivers and bad weather and unhealthy eating habits all who cause death on daily basis, but for you there’s only one Molly” Eurus tried reasoning softly “ its hard enough for people like us to form lasting human connections, I’ve come to learn it takes years of persistence to completely bond with someone else and the fact that you are capable of it is something I’ve always admired far beyond Mycroft’s Iceman facade”
“Speaking from experience?” He raised an eyebrow taking care not to break the fragile bubble of vulnerability they’d reached
“Its always nice to know that there’s always someone out there who will care about you beyond the trappings of your psyche” Eurus agreed cryptically, giving Sherlock a tiny insight into the twisted reason why his sister hadn’t allowed Moriarty to blow his brains off after Sherlock’s fall “isn’t that how Molly makes you feel? I admit she’s no Nocturne like Irene Adler in looks or sexual appeal but I don’t believe I could be wrong in what I see when you look at her while her back is turned”
“Don’t put Molly in the same category as the woman…Irene is a capriccio, an Intermezzo with too many Staccato harmonies and not enough tenerezza, more Opera than Nocturne she’s filled with high octaves and acciaccaturas, Molly is her own sonata”
“Now that is quite surprising” It had never occurred to Eurus that Sherlock might have a melody for Molly, mainly because if he did he’d want Eurus to hear it at least once, given her brother and her shared a love for violin that often lent itself to describing people in musical terms according to how they saw the world but honestly Eurus expected Sherlock to classify Molly as a chloral “how does Molly sound?”
“Molly is shades of Adagios, Dolce notes and intermitent Allegros, that rise and fall without damaging the integrity of the composition, any more notes and she could have been a ballet or a solft waltz” Sherlock sounded so sure, humming a few bars to let her understand the gist of his thoughts, always far more comfortable expressing sentiment trough music than in words
“I wonder why you have never played her for an audience” Eurus genius that she was didn’t need to see him play to hear the notes in her head, the soft tone of the violin and the spikes of the Sonata’s hidden edges “she sounds like comming home” was all Eurus could say after the song finished playing in her mental fortress “your very own masterpiece”
“Her melody isn’t for public to hear” Sherlock replied ruminanting in his sister’s words, because she had put into words the elusive title that he’d never given to the Sonata that belonged to Molly Hooper 'comming home’ was an apt name for the piece and if he was honest with himself he had to admit it had been that way for a long time, Molly herself was the kind of person who’s existence validated the part of Sherlock who needed a place to run to when things got difficult “she makes me feel accepted, when it comes to Molly I always know that whatever I do, or wherever I go, I will always have a place to call home in her life, the Sonata always changes in degrees of subtleties” hadn’t that been the reason he’d felt so hurt by her (failed) engagement to Meat dagger? Because he’d assumed she would always be there… and on the heels of that thought the realization struck “Because I love her”
Eurus could have clapped her hands in joy at the breaktrough of her brother, and to think it hadn’t taken any death threats, really Sherlock was so much better to reason with than Mycroft “then why do you keep wasting so much time?” She asked still trying to be understanding
“You don’t understand Eurus, I LOVE HER” Sherlock exclaimed in shock and Eurus could see the beginning of what looked like a very Holmes panic attack “And I’ve hurt her in the past so badly…and you KNEW” he was referring of course to the fact that Eurus hadn’t told him what she suspected since day one
“In all honesty I thought that you would have noticed your attraction to your pathologist since the moment you began your game of 'flirting for organs’ I didn’t expect the situation to last this long” Eurus admitted sheepishly reminding Sherlock of the way she used to intentionally assume that he’d clean his bedroom when he had a nasty experiment rotting in his desk, conveniently not reminding him to throw it away “its not my fault, its yours” So maybe his mind palace was undergoing a major rearrangement, Eurus could work with that..hopefully
“What do I do now?” Sherlock groaned putting his head in his hands “I love her”
“You do whatever mummy would do I suppose, she’s the one who is good at handling non-sociopaths” Eurus tried to help along “maybe you should confer with Dr Watson, I fear my continued advice in that subject would nderimental to your latest breaktrough” Aka: Eurus would not give Sherlock romantic life hacks, she simply wasn’t willing to.
“Mummy…would make lunch, maybe a pot of her favourite tea” Sherlock agreed pensively “and ease Molly slowly into the situation”
“Not too slowly, I want my first nephew to be born preferably within the next year or so” Eurus asserted as tough she were giving Sherlock her takeaway order “you will make mostly male children given both of your genetic profiles but I’d still like at least one of them to be named after me if possible”
“Have you ever thought that Molly might not want children? If anything she hasn’t agreed to even date me yet, let alone get engaged or conceive with me…”
“Tiny crime solving pathologists?” Eurus supplied when he couldn’t bring himself to say the word children “Sherlock a basic deduction of Molly’s life would point towards a desire for a nuclear family, more to the point she’d want it and she’d want it with you, the only sibling in our circle liable to be successful in raising another generation of Holmes geniuses” considering Mycroft and Eurus would most likely cause their offspring some degree of psychological issues with their parenting techniques, it didn’t sound so much like a compliment
Aaaand there went their bonding moment, Eurus was back to her manipulative self “Maybe you should leave” Sherlock muttered comming in and out of buffering mode “as much as I enjoy our interludes, I don’t think I’m fit for company or will be for the next few hours”
“Maybe I should, my work here is done” Eurus agreed rising from her seat and dusting her Pajamas “I expect that a sleepover wouldn’t be any fun anyway, not with the way your thoughts are shouting”
Noticing the changes in the tone of her voice Sherlock briefly paused his panic attack to regard his sister with a suspicious stare “Stay away from my pathologist Eurus, I mean it”
“I will, but be a smart boy and keep an eye on her, I heard your old friend Victor is back in town” Eurus attempted to joke “Maybe you should move her here for a few days, you know, for security reasons” And with that parting shot his sister breezed out of Baker Street leaving a very stressed Sherlock no choice but to phone Molly
“Gasp and Bloody Works what can I do for you?” Molly’s cheerful voice answered her mobile, Sherlock could hear the sound of a bone saw in the distance and deduced he’d caught her in the middle of an autopsy
A million thoughts raced trough his head but he settled for a mundane response, no need to alarm her “Bad time for a call?”
“Oh it’s you Sherlock, sorry I didn’t see the caller ID, funny you should phone I just got the most interesting body with a unidentified brain aneurysm, I thought you might find it interesting so no its not a bad time at all” she always sounded in good mood whenever he called, give or take a few exemptions, Molly always tried her best to be positive about everything including his cases.
“Really? A brain you say” Sherlock perked up before remembering the subject at hand “actually I was calling to ask for a favor, but the brain aneurysm sounds quaint, please save it for future study”
'smooth Sherlock real smooth’ mind palace john muttered
'Not now Watson’
Molly who knew him well enough to know that if he wanted to ask for something big he’d do it in person and not by phone had no qualms in replying “what kind of favor? Sherlock is this for a case?, you know that as long as its within my power I will help you”
“No its not for a case, this is more of a personal favor, I need to stay in your flat for an undefined amount of time” there he said it now all he had to do was get Molly to agree, because while this wasn’t the first time he’d used her place as a bolthole it was the one time he’d do it for sentiment’s sake and consent was important.
“Wait, why? Are you okay” the bone saw was turned off and Sherlock could hear the unecessary concern in the voice of the woman he’d just realised he loved.
“yes I’m fine, but I have reasons to believe that my privacy in Baker Street has been compromised” and he needed to make sure Molly’s hadn’t been. Lest Eurus perchance for giving people a push in the right direction landed Molly in the bottom of a well.
Sherlock gave a long suffering sigh and answered “by my sister”
An: I’ve thought up Eurus as a dark version of Georgiana to Sherlock’s Mr Darcy hope she wasn’t to occ, this fic is for all my Sherllolian folks on tumblr, who are just awesome
When Rosie turned four Sherlock decided to sign her up for ballet classes. They made a big to do over it and went shopping for several different leotards, tights, and tutus and one special pair of little ballet shoes. Come Monday morning, she was nervous but she hid it well as her papa got her ready for class. Her hair wasn’t quite long enough for a bun, but Sherlock put it in a high ponytail with loose curly tendrils hanging down here and there. Once she was ready, he couldn’t contain himself.
“We must take a picture and send it to your daddy at work.” Rosie beamed. She stood in first position just like her papa had shown her and left him snap a few pictures. Sherlock sent them all to John who sent back comments such as ‘look at our little girl she’s growing up to fast’ and ‘beautiful’ as well as ‘have fun at class and behave yourself’. (The behave yourself was for Sherlock.)
Sherlock texted back and informed John he would be the model parent and honestly, John couldn’t disagree with that because when it came to parenting Rosie, he took it very seriously.
It was in the cab on the way to class that Rosie began to get nervous. “Papa, what if everyone laughs at me or what if everyone is better than me?”
Sherlock hushed her, “Rosie, you will be just fine, all the little boys and girls coming to your class today have the same fears, but you will all start at the same pace and learn together. There is nothing to be afraid of, and if you make a mistake, you practise it again until you get it right. Besides, you also have a bit of an advantage, your papa can help you practise at home remember? Papa took ballet when he was young like you.”
She giggle, her eyes going big, “I can’t imagine that.”
“Well if you like, I will give you a demonstration someday and don’t forget who showed you how to do the first position.”
“I thought you just looked that up online to make me feel better.”
Sherlock feigned surprise and then kissed her on her forehead. “And look, here we are dance class.”
Sherlock paid the cabbie and they got out of the cab and headed into the building. Upon entering the class, they found all the parents chatting in a small group with their toddlers clinging to their legs afraid to let go. There was only one little boy and he looked terrified. Rosie marched over to him and said “Hi I’m Rosie, what’s your name?”
He bashfully replied, ”Evan.”
“Well Evan, you can sit next to me because I’ll tell you a secret, my papa used to practise ballet when he was our age and he says we will all learn together and have fun.”
Evan smiled brightly and Rosie giggled and Evan’s mom mouthed thank you to Sherlock and he just nodded and took a seat in the back of the room as the teacher called the class to order.
The teacher was a bright young girl who quickly took control of her class and had them stand in a circle holding hands and then sat down. The children raptly paid attention and did as instructed as she took them through moves that had them stretch properly.
They started by sitting with their toes out in front of them and flexing their feet front and back while saying hello and goodbye to their toes which drew giggles, but it was effective. In not time they had the move down.
The next move, their feet stayed in front of them, but this time they used their arms to stretch. She had them stretch their arms tall like they were reaching for stars and then once they had an armful she would tel them to bring them back to their chests only then to throw them up in the air again.
They moved on to to concentrating on their legs, where they put their feet together and knees out to the side and then she had them bend forward towards their feet to stretch. After they sat back up, she had them flap their knees up and down and wave their arms and took turns asking them what color butterfly they were, Evan said blue and Rosie said purple and there were a lot of yellows and pinks and oranges from the other girls. So they had a whole rainbow.
The next stretch required them to lie on their stomachs and up with their arms while their legs and hips remained on the ground. After a couple of ups and down, they did the second part of the exercise where they were to take their right arm back and try to grab their right foot and then switch and do the left. Some children got this and some did not but the teacher assured them by practising here and at home, they would surely get it in no time.
Now they were ready for the last stretch. They sat on their knees and curled into a small ball. Then they stretched their body upward becoming very tall, all the way up and then back down again into a small ball. They did this several times.
By the time she got them standing from this exercise, the kids had her complete attention and half the class had was over. She began to take them through the positions. She ended up making it through all five with the kids mimicking her and some did well and others would need a lot more practice and then at the end of the class she finished with a few cool down stretches and released the children to their parents who had been quiet the entire instruction time watching.
Rosie grabbed Evan’s hand and ran over to Sherlock, “Papa, did you see us? How did we do?”
“The two of you did wonderful as did all of the other girls in the class.” Sherlock said loud enough so they could all hear. He remembered back from his days of class some children didn’t get any praise because their parents didn’t care or pay attention or even stay for the lesson.
“So can we come back for more lessons?” She asked as this had been a free lesson designed to get the children interested in dance, he crouched down in front of her, “this is a commitment and you have to come to all the classes and practise the assignments the teacher gives you, this isn’t something to take lightly.”
“I know papa, I will. I’ll come to all the classes and practise at home and you can help me when I get stuck,” and then Rosie turned to Evan. “Evan, will you be coming back?”
Evan looked up at his mum and asked if he could, “If that’s what you want honey, we can even come on the same days as your new friend here so you know someone.”
So between Sherlock and Evan’s mum, they decided Tuesdays and Thursdays at 10 worked best and signed them up.
Rosie was delighted as she was putting her coat on and telling Sherlock she couldn’t wait for her daddy to get home from work so she could tell him all about ballet class and show him some of what she learned. Sherlock smiled at her and they walked down to catch a cab.
When they got home, Sherlock made her lunch while Rosie practised the new things she had learned in class today.
John was in for an earful when he would arrive home from work tonight.
I’m running out of gifs for oneshots like these… but the requests are dwindling down which means more Part 2 is coming for the ones who have asked for them. Here’s 1 out of 2 oneshots for the night!
Requested By Anon: Ever since you were a child, you’ve always been much more observant and intuitive to what was going on around you. You’re not a person who cares to have the spotlight on them, unlike your best friend, Sherlock Holmes. Little does he realize the painfully obvious, you’re the opposite side of the same coin.
If this gets more then twenty notes, I’m going to be surprised because it’s actual trash…. xD
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You see, but you do not observe.
For you, it was quite the opposite. All you had ever done since you were old enough was observe. It was how you got to read people, to truly know who lurked beneath the skin and bones that made up human beings.
You had become best friends with Sherlock Holmes in a matter of five minutes. He had deduced you right off the bat, but you didn’t care. You were far more interested in who he had been before taking the title of Consulting Detective. When he wasn’t home, you snuck through his bedroom and read some of his old journals from before he began working with John Watson.
The heart inside Sherlock Holmes still was invisible to the all seeing eye, but you were more then prepared to eventually dig deep into it and figure out the real person it belonged to.
There was one instance during a case after Sherlock came back from Europe that your observing skills were more of a necessity then a desire. They’d spent the majority of the night trying to crack the cipher the suspect had left, and for the first time in all the time you’d known him, Sherlock was stumped.
“Yes, that may be a hint- What are you doing, y/n?” John inquired, trying to peer over your shoulder as you furiously scribbled in your black notebook, hiding it beneath your hands.
“None of your business, Sir Hedgehog.” John harrumphed much to Sherlocks amusement, his blue eyes intently watching your every move from the living room of his flat. “Do me all a favor and shut up. I could hear your thoughts from a bloody mile away, mind you.”
John gaped as Sherlock began to snort hysterically, covering his mouth with his hands as you straightened your spine and shut your eyes. He’d given up on the case over an hour ago due to the inferiority compared to the others in his inbox, but you were hellbent on cracking it.
It took him a fraction of a second to realize what you were actually doing; your fingers moved as if you were going through files, your eyes darting back and forth beneath your eyelids as you dove deeper into your mind palace. “Oh good lord. I should’ve deduced that about her on the spot.” Sherlock muttered, oblivious to Johns confusion. “You were right.”
“Sherlock, I said shut up!”
John huffed angrily and threw his hands up in the air. “I was right about what? And why is she being so bloody ignorant? She’s not you! She’s the opposite of you!” Your eyes flashed open as the last part of your translation was scrawled in your notebook.
“I got it!” You cried out victoriously. “They locked the son in a airless casket in the mausoleum at the grave sight of his grandfather!” Sherlocks eyes twinkled as he turned back to John, taking the notebook from your hand as you began to dance victoriously around the room.
“Just as I’ve always told you, John.” Sherlock remarked. “You see, but you do not observe. Our dear friend here has always been able to deduce but has never made it obvious. She is literally the opposite side of my same coin. And she managed to crack a case that even I myself couldn’t crack. Wasn’t it painfully obvious?”
‘’You-” John leaned forward and poked your chest, gasping as you began to dance with him around the flat. His anger turned into full guttural laughter as you twirled out of his embrace and landed on the sofa. “You have a mind palace too?! Are you kidding me?”
“You can just call me the female Sherlock Holmes.” You dusted off your clothes and jumped to your feet, wiggling your eyebrows at the two men. “The better looking, more clever, and far more people friendly version of Sherlock Holmes.”
Your case sat half-full on you and Sherlock’s bed, your hair was in springs around your head- absolutely everywhere and anywhere they wanted to stick out- and your eyes had to look like creme puffs by now. You loved your boyfriend, with all your heart, but you could simply tell he didn’t feel the same. There was no point in you wasting anymore of his time for your own selfish wants. You were glad he was in his mind palace, mainly because it was easier to force yourself to pack your things and ignore the memories stabbing to the front of your mind. Plus, then you didn’t have to deal with his pity. Yet, closer you got to finishing packing, less you wanted to go.
When you grabbed your copy of Keith A Russel’s “When Doves Cry”, the only thing on your mind was when Sherlock read you to sleep the night after the pool incident with Moriarty. When you couldn’t sleep because you were so terrified of what would happen next, what would happen to Sherlock. It was a leaden reminder of a day long gone, when he still cared about you. Dare you say- loved you. When there was nothing he’d rather do than see you smiling and content…
But you managed to continue your task, and eventually moved on to getting your clothes and other things kept in your bedroom. You scanned it before you started, hoping futilely that you were almost out of tears to be wept.
The way his side of the bed always looked more like a hobbit hole, rather than a few pillows and blankets. Not because of his own messy sleeping habits, strewing himself all over the place in his minimal sleep, but because he knew it annoyed Mycroft, so he’d do it every morning- just in case. Striding past it, like it didn’t make your heart pang and yearn to be in Sherlock’s strong embrace, you beelined for your dresser, grabbing your shirts when one caught your eye.
A man’s violet button-up, that Sherlock told you to keep after you’d hurriedly put it on as some cover after your first real “session” together. You could still remember his tender words wrapped in his gorgeous sonorous voice, tied in a ribbon of a small, sincere smile from your favorite detective.
“I love that on you.” Five simple words, and only two from being the words you wanted to hear more than anything else. And with that small memory of a sweet teasing smile, came more droplets down your cheeks. For the longest time you’d held out hope that maybe he’d actually tell you that one day. That, after all this mess with Moriarty was actually over, he’d care about you again, but you were done deluging yourself in that vain delusion. He was Sherlock Holmes for bloody sake! Why would he love you of all people?
If anything, the only reason he hadn’t broken up with you yet was because he pitied you. A mess of a person who couldn’t cope without someone else to hold onto. He always loved playing the hero, so it did make sense he’d let himself be that person, though that had to be tiring. Then there was John, who’d never forgive the detective if he broke your heart. Maybe it was because John knew how fragile you truly were. After all, he was the only one who knew why you’d been at Saint Bartholomew’s that day you’d met him and Sherlock.
You couldn’t bring yourself to grab the last shirt in the end, opting to leave it behind. It was Sherlock’s still, right?
You had to stop entirely. Your vision was too blurred to go on, and you were so tired. Not physically, more… mentally. Just done with everything around you. Tired of being ignored and unloved, waking up everyday knowing that things will never be the same, but mostly of being you. In your near-blind stupor, you’d collapsed on the closet door, and for the first time that day, you let yourself break down. An ugly sob wrenched itself from your lips, and for the near millionth time that week your eyes flooded, drenching your cheeks.
Sherlock’s eyes flicked open in a sudden epiphany, but his breath caught in his throat before he could exclaim it to no one in particular. His eyes drifted over the room, noticing the every missing object. His heart clenched in his chest as he came to the conclusion that you’d left him. Without a word… the woman he loved and admired more than anything else in the world was gone. No explanation, no logic or reason, just gone. That’s when a small noise attracted his attention in to the bedroom, and he sprinted towards it. A heavy breath escaped him in a relieved sigh as he saw you balled up against the closet door. He didn’t question the why, he just slid next to you, pulling you into a desperate hug.
“I thought you’d left…” He whispered shakily, his face curling into your neck as he took a deep breath to inhale your scent.
“I-I was packing.” You admitted shakily, a bit confused. Nevertheless, you slipped your arms around his shoulders and reveled in the rare embrace. He shot back to look at you, eyes full of betrayal and heart break.
“What? Why?” He demanded, trying not to focus on the little crumbs of himself falling at the revelation. You sniffles a bit, and looked down at your hands as they meandered to your lap.
“I didn’t want to be a burden on you anymore.” The tiny, almost silent voice made him wonder if he’d even heard you right. Another round of tears timidly filled your eyes, and he was suddenly quite aware of how you felt about yourself. He shook his head lightly, his large hands with their lengthy fingers encasing yours in a small, much needed, embrace to bring you back to the moment.
“You’re not a burden on me, and you never could be. I lo-care about you, y/n.” The authority in his voice caused you to look up at him. You expected his usual hard, uncaring expression. Instead, you were met with soft eyes with a vulnerable gleam to them, which were completely focused on you.
“B-But you don’t-” You looked away sharply when your words refused to comply, “You don’t have to.” You informed him, hoping he’d back off and stop filling you with this little bit of glistening hope. That maybe he’d let you just go, and stop playing your mind like his violin. That little simple phrase is what clicked in the final pieces for him. He didn’t have to? Of course he did, it wasn’t a choice for him. Every time you weren’t nearby, he couldn’t think straight, and was constantly beside himself with worry. He needed those little fleeting touches you’d give him when you thought he was too concentrated in his mind palace that let him know you were home. That you were back and safe. It wasn’t something he could turn on and off like a tap- it just was. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.
“Yes, I do actually. And not because you or John want me to. I have to because I have no control over it.” His hand pushed a string on messy locks back to their place and away from your matted cheek. He’d, of course, had his suspicions on why you’d actually been in the hospital that day. He’d never mention it, though. His own fear of triggering something for you outweighed his curiosity, because he knew he couldn’t lose you. Your eyes drifted back to his, and for a second, there was nothing but calm. Your reflection caught in the gorgeous plethora of blues, greens, and greys that were trapped in his eyes, and it made you cringe. You were an absolute mess…
"You’re beautiful.“ He told you firmly, noticing the change and pulling you slightly closer. And you know what? For the first time in a (very) long time; you believed it.
"I love you.” You shakily whispered while your eyes drifted slowly closed. A tiny smile pulled itself to Sherlock’s lips at the familiar words. His favorite words, actually.
The weather in London had been gloomy and overcast for days and chilly, perfect weather for snow and Rosie who was now two, stood at the window everyday and asked for snow ever since she heard her daddy mention the word.
Sherlock picked her up and looked out the window and was of course happy to indulge her by explaining where snow comes from and all the previous snows in recent history but she just frowned and pouted “I want snow now!” with her little fists rolled up in a ball. it was actually really cute and John had to turn so she wouldn’t see him grinning at her which would just make things worse.
Sherlock put her back on the floor and explained to her that she’d have to wait and maybe if she got lucky they may have snow later today or tomorrow. All day she kept wandering to the window and walking away broken hearted because there was no snow.
When John arrived home from the clinic she wailed at him, “Daddy I want snow!”
He scooped her up and said, “I know love and tomorrow the forecast is calling for snow so maybe you’ll get lucky and have your snow then. Do you even know what snow looks like?”
“Yes, papa showed me some on the laptop and all the kinds of things you can do in the snow.”
John smiled at Sherlock and mouthed thank you and Sherlock nodded.
“Let’s decide what to have for dinner and spend the rest of the evening drawing about what we want to do if it snows tomorrow.”
Rosie seemed to like that idea and agreed to John’s suggestion of stir fry and soon they were all lying on the floor drawing pictures of tomorrow.
When Rosie’s head began to droop around eight, Sherlock picked her up and carried her upstairs and got her ready for bed while John cleaned up the pictures -carefully hung them on the wall - and put the crayons and leftover paper away.
Overnight the temperature dropped and the snow began to fall. When morning came there was at least five inches on the ground and John could hear Rosie calling from her cot. “Daddy! Did it snow yet?”
Sherlock buried his head under his pillow and John got up and put his robe on and took to the stairs. “I don;t know sweetheart, let’s go find out.” he said cheerfully.
He picked her up and took her downstairs to the window where she could see everything covered in glistening white. Her face lit up. “Daddy, it’s beautiful!”
“Yes it is sweetheart.’
She squirmed out of his arms to the floor and took off for their bedroom and jumped on the bed. “Papa, papa! Guess what?!”
“What love?” Sherlock asked, his voice gruff, peeking out under the pillow.
“It SNOWED! Can we go play in the snow? PLEASE?”
Sherlock sat up and John nodded yes and Sherlock said “I think that would be fine as long as we have good breakfast first and bundle up warmly.”
Rosie nodded her head and asked for pancakes and John headed into the kitchen to start the pancakes so they could begin their day.
On the nights when John can’t quite keep his eyes closed, the even breathing of his daughter across the room doing nothing to soothe him to sleep, he instead draws himself into his own meager mind palace that Sherlock knows nothing about.
His only has one room, no doors, and a window that opens up to the roaming moors where his grandparents had lived. Inside, the living room of 221B is as much of a clone to its real-life counterpart as John could ever manage. It’s not perfect, but he’s not using it for the storage of tobacco ash and various melting points, so it fulfills its purpose just fine.
There’s only one memory he’s intent on keeping safe.
He feels arms, strong and warm, cage around him and draw him against a hammering heart. He feels air stir at his hairline. He feels a dry hand press at the nape of his neck, fingers curling him closer as if he would disappear at any moment. He hears a sigh.
“It is what it is.”
From there, during the pivotal moment of John’s lifelong emotional state, it only gets worse.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. His forehead is pressed to Sherlock’s sternum, and both of his hands find themselves against his broad chest, fingertips digging into an expensive dressing gown. His tears won’t stop.
Sherlock’s hands tighten. “No, John, you have nothing to be-”
John pulls back, cutting him off. Sherlock’s arms loosen until his hands are merely resting against the curves of John’s shoulder blades. John looks up to meet his gaze, but his eyes are closed. “Sherlock,” he says. “Not this. Not… I’m sorry for everything. For every single bloody thing. You…” His breath hiccups. “I am so, so sorry.”
His eyes don’t open. John can feel his voice through his chest, where his palms are still connected. “Nothing,” he says. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Nothing?” John huffs in disbelief. His hands begin to trail up, up, up, and Sherlock’s eyes flutter open in surprise when his fingertips brush the cut beside his ear, half-hidden by his hair, where John’s fist had sliced open his skin. John’s other hand barely touches beneath his right eye, almost catching on his bottom lashes, where the white of his sclera is still stained red. Sherlock’s stopped breathing.
“Everything,” John whispers. The hand on Sherlock’s cheek drops back down to the center of his chest, where John kneads into the scar that his wife had made. “I have everything to apologize for.”
And then Sherlock’s face shatters, so wonderful and horrible all at once, and John’s nose is squashed against his neck when his arms pull him back and tighten, elbows hooked around his shoulders and chest shaking in quiet sobs. John lets himself be held and wraps his arms around Sherlock’s waist, murmuring words into his skin that he couldn’t remember if he tried. They’re broken, John knows, and all that’s left for them is to shudder together through the pulsing waves and try not to drown.
It’s an unsure thing, after all of this when John draws himself back to the present, if he’ll drift to sleep or cry his eyes out.
And yet, despite that, he always takes the gamble.
Rosie had been delighted that John would soon be able to come to her classes to watch her dance, so she made a calendar to mark off when she practised and the number of days until her daddy was coming to her first class.
Just like the teacher had said, they spent the next two weeks repeating what they had learned in their last class, but now they could all do the moves almost every time on their own without being reminded or needing help.
The weekend before the first class John was going to get to go along, he had free, so he took her out for a little father/daughter bonding time and brought her a new leotard set. They had found the perfect one and they were sure Sherlock would love it. It was pale yellow with little bumblebees and white flowers on it and they brought a matching yellow tutu. Rosie was exuberant and couldn’t wait to get home to show her papa.
“Do you think he’ll like it?” she asked her daddy.
“I’m sure he’ll love it, you know bees are his favourite things next to you and me.” John answered her.
When they arrived home two hours later after some more shopping for preschool clothes they found Sherlock in the midst of a case, he had declined on texting John since this was the first real time he had to spend with Rosie in weeks.
Rosie was excited to show Sherlock all her new clothing and he took the time out of the case while she modeled all her new clothes and she saved the best for last, her new leotard outfit.
“Rosie! It’s beautiful just like you!” he exclaimed.
She blushed and curled her fingers together and swayed back and forth while Sherlock dropped to his knees and gave her a big hug and kiss.
“Listen sweetheart, I have to go out now and help Uncle Greg with a case, but I love all your new outfits and I bet daddy has some fun things for you and him to do this evening.”
She pouted, but she knew it was his job and she was happy because her daddy was staying home with her instead of going along to help her papa out.
Sherlock stood and gave John a kiss and John whispered thank you in his ear for allowing him to have this case off. Sherlock grinned at him as he waltzed out the door, “it’s barely a five, I should be home by dinner or right there after.”
Since Rosie still had her leotard on, she decided to practise for John and he moved the coffee table so she had the whole area to use and he sat on the sofa and watched her intently. He was looking forward to Tuesday’s class which was two days away, he just hoped that Sherlock was right and he’d be done his case by then.
She went through her routine three times until she had gone through it without making any mistakes and John had to remind himself not to tell her that she needn’t always be perfect. If she wanted to practise until she had it perfect then that was her decision, she took after Sherlock in that respect.
The hours passed and Rosie had changed into her play clothes and she and John were sitting at the table playing a game when John received a text from Sherlock that the case had taken a twist and that he wouldn’t be home in time for dinner, probably not until after Rosie was in bed. Rosie was a bit disappointed, but also happy because it meant extra time with just her and her daddy, even though she preferred it to be the three of them but John had been working a lot so now it was papa’s turn to work.
“So, What should we have for dinner?” He asked Rosie.
She scrunched her nose like Sherlock often does and asked “do we have to make it or can we order out?”
John thought about it momentarily and said, “I planned on cooking, but since it’s just the two of us, we can order out. What would you like?”
“Chinese.” She answered.
John smiled. It was amazing how much she was like Sherlock.
Then a serious look came over her face. “Daddy, what happens if this case isn’t over by Tuesday?”
“Then I will take you to class as planned and you can show papa what you learned when he comes home.”
She thought about it a moment. “I suppose that would be ok, but I’d prefer it if the two of you would be there.”
John got up and walked by her to get the menu and tousled her curls. “I know you would sweetheart, but sometimes work gets in the way.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I but we’re lucky that we have pretty flexible schedules that one of us can always be there for your classes or events.”
She wrapped her tiny arms around his waist. “Yes I am lucky, some of the girls at school and dance have nannies that watch over them. I’m lucky that I get to have you or papa, sometimes Mrs. Hudson watch over me. I love you.”
“I love you too sweetie, now let’s order our dinner and make sure I don’t forget to get papa’s favourite.”
Rosie giggled as John dialed the number, like it was a possibility he would forget to order her papa food.
The Trial of Sherlock Holmes by jenna221b (G, 3,015 across 3 works || TAB!lock, Metafic / TJLC, , Victorian AU / 1895, Christmas, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Oscar Wilde) – Scripts based on speculation that Sherlock will be put on trial in The Abominable Bride to parallel the Oscar Wilde Trials of 1895.
Johnlock Ficlet Collection by Irrevocably_Sherlocked(E, 11,505+ w. [WiP] | Random Ficlets, Pining, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Parentlock, AU’s, First Kiss, Character POV’s) - Just a collection of Johnlock ficlets, originally posted on my Tumblr page. (Chapter 10 is the Victorianlock)
In A Changing Age by allonsys_girl(E, 15,590 w. || Victorian AU, Virgin / Demi Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Mild H/C) – Sherlock wakes up in the 19th century, with no idea how he got there.
The Curious Adventure of the Drs. Watson by ShinySherlock(M, 40,883 w. || BBC & ACD Fusion || Victorianlock, Time Travel / Magical Realism, Friends to Lovers, Love and Kissing, Romance, Body Swap) – What if ACD Watson and BBC Watson switched places… “Imposter!” Hands clenching the lapels of John’s coat, Holmes shoved him anew. “Yes!” John agreed, nodding, and then grimacing. “Sort of!”
Sherlock trying to teach Rosie to stack her blocks - they start with five -and Rosie is not quite getting the hang of it. They’ve been at it all morning and she can get the first two to three perfectly straight and then after that they’re misaligned and fall over and bring delight to Rosie over the noise the make when they tumble on her highchair tray. She claps her hand and gurgles like she’s accomplished some big feat and Sherlock just picks her blocks up and sets them on her tray to start over.
He’s frustrated so he takes a break and turns and clicks the kettle on for tea. It’s awfully quiet as the kettle clicks off and he pours his tea, finishing it with milk and sugar and when he turns around he sees that Rosie has stacked all five perfectly.
Sherlock nearly drops his tea but sets it back on the counter and rushes over to Rosie and exclaims how brilliant she is and at this point she knocks them all down again, gurgling because it makes her squeal with laughter and Sherlock joins in and so does John who has been standing in the kitchen door watching for the past fifteen minutes.
Because it’s always Freud - hOW could I not see this
You guys. TFP is a terrible episode. None of it makes sense. That’s because none of it is real. It’s supposed to be read as a metaphor.
OK, hear me out. It’s been established in the series, up to this point, that Mycroft acts as Sherlock’s super-ego. He stands for absolute, cold reason - in Sherlock’s head, that is; in reality, he’s an emotional crybaby. In TSoT, Sherlock had to “defeat” Mycroft in his mind palace - “not you, not you, YOU” - in order to let himself go and love John.
Now. Following the Freudian metaphor, Eurus is no doubt the id, which would make Sherlock the ego. There had to be three of them, after all. Sherlock, following a childhood trauma (I think he’s responsible, somehow, for the death of Redbeard - that much might as well be true), has repressed this raw, instinctual, potentially destructive part of himself. He has, metaphorically, locked it in an underground asilum: “the roads we walk have demons beneath, and yours have been waiting for a very long time.”
We all thought that Sherlock had to give up some of his cold reason to love John, and he did, but that wasn’t the final problem - Sherlock had to face his instincts, had to communicate with them, hear what they had to say. We can all agree that, if interpreted realistically, the scene where he hugs Eurus is cheesy af - but he’s not hugging his mad sister, he’s embracing a part of him that he thought he could lock up and forget.
Eurus is also the part of him that’s irrational enough to be attracted to Moriarty - she stands for his dark side. Just as in TAB Sherlock dreams of Moriarty performing fellatio on a gun, Eurus has that weird glass-sex with Moriarty in TFP. The glass that used to separate Sherlock from his instincts, by the way, is called “elephant” - but the elephant hasn’t been there for a while, that is, since Sherlock accepted his love for John. This happened somewhere between S3 and TAB, I believe. This has allowed “Eurus” to come out and start shooting people.
Eurus is Sherlock. It is not by chance that the “I’m you / you’re me / me or you” thing has been a motif since the second season. When Sherlock sees her, she is a weird combination of Sherlock himself and John - suicidal, clever, walks with a cane - and that is because 1) Sherlock and John have become one inseparable being at this point and 2) because Sherlock does identify with John on some level - remember the “I’m you, aren’t I?” of TSoT?
ALSO, ALSO. TST ends just before Eurus appears - we’ve seen her as the girl on the bus, but I think that’s just Sherlock projecting - and ends with Sherlock in therapy. Couldn’t this whole Eurus thing be Sherlock trying to figure himself out? Perhaps creating characters to materialize different parts of himself as therapy? Sherlock has to save John Watson from Sherlock, and he does. Now that he’s come to terms with both his id and his super-ego, he can actually have a constructive relationship and be a complete human being - a “good man.”
All Moffat and Gatiss have to do is to reveal that it was, in fact, all in Sherlock’s head - but no less valid in terms of character development.
[@drumsinheaven because I texted you all of this screaming]