martin-x-theresa

The box in Martin’s jacket pocket seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, sitting there like a lead weight and dragging his attention away from the important matter at hand. He didn’t think that he’d ever been more nervous for a dinner in his entire life, barring perhaps the first dinner he’d had with Theresa when he’d been so anxious that he would commit some horrendous breach in etiquette and bring shame down on his entire family. It had been a very near thing actually, especially when he’d come within a hair’s breadth of spilling the bottle of red wine all over the table and himself, but he’d managed to get through that dinner without any international incidents and even managed to get a second and third date afterwards. 

This date was slightly more intimidating however. This was, after all, the one month anniversary of their first date together to the Air Museum, and even if it was something of a silly thing to celebrate Martin still wanted to get it right. Especially considering what he had planned with the small red box that was currently pressing into his side and sending his pulse up through the roof every time he thought about it. Would she like it? Would she think it was too weird? Was he making a huge mistake?

There was no turning back now though, not after he had gone through all the trouble of arranging this date and procuring the present in question. Honestly, getting Theresa to Fitton had been the easiest part of the whole ordeal thanks to His Royal Highness getting into a tiff with the Sheikh of Qatar on the playground and needing a family member present for a teacher conference, something that Martin tried not to think about too much so that his brain didn’t start hurting from the absurdity of it all. Perhaps even more absurd was the fact that he was currently sitting with the Crown Princess of a foreign nation in a tiny pub in Fitton, in spite of his many protestations that something like an anniversary required white tablecloths at the very least. But Theresa had put her foot down, insisting that she got quite enough of white tablecloths and stuff dining at home, and so here they were tucked away in a dark little corner of the local pub, sharing pints of ale and a plate of chips while arguing the finer points of war-era aircraft. It was absurd. And perfect.

As the night wore on Martin grew steadily more nervous about his present and several times even came close to backing out of the whole thing entirely, but the buzz of alcohol through his veins and the happy smiles that Theresa kept sending him gave him a courage that he had not previously known he possessed. At last, when a natural pause came in the conversation and they shared a brief but comfortable silence, he knew that it was time. It was now, or never.

Reaching into his pocket, he fumbled the red box out of his jacket while clearing his throat slightly. “Now Theresa as you know, this is a very important and momentous occasion, one that should be celebrated as such.”

Theresa’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and curiosity, a slight smile playing over her face as she leaned back in her seat. “Oh, is it now? I wasn’t aware that dinner at the pub was considered a momentous occasion here in England.”

"Don’t be silly, you know what I mean. It’s, well, it’s been a month. Since we started dating. It’s our anniversary." Theresa remained silent, that small smile of amusement she always seemed to wear around him still on her face, and Martin felt his cheeks flush slightly as he plunged forward. "Anyway I wanted to get something to mark the occasion, something that uh, befitted the standing of the parties involved and the, er, gravity of it all. So I, well, I got you this."

Face burning red by now, he thrust the box towards her over the table and held his breath as she opened it with a puzzled look on her face. A moment that seemed to last a lifetime passed in silence as she examined the contents of the box, not saying anything at all and sending Martin’s pulse pounding through the roof. Words came spilling out of him all at once, nerves and anticipation and the need to be understood exploding together.

"It’s a medal, the Medal of Exceptional Courage and Valor. It’s bestowed on those who have shown tremendous patience and kindness, in this case for honoring this humble captain with your presence and surviving a relationship with him for a whole month. I thought, well, since you gave me so many medals when we first met, it’s about time that I start repaying you the favor. It’s not as official as the ones you gave me I know, but I had it made special -"

"I love it." Theresa cut him off with a smile, reaching across the table to grab his hand and sending a burst of warmth shooting through him. "I really love it, thank you Martin. I’m honored that a Captain like yourself would give me such a wonderful thing."

Giving his hand a final squeeze, she pulled the small silver medal out of its box and pinned it to her blouse with a smile. It gleamed fitfully in the low lighting of the pub, the words engraved there glinting in the candlelight and warming Martin through. It had been a gamble, getting her something so silly and yet so personal for a one month anniversary, but going by the enormous smile on Theresa’s face it seemed that for once in Martin’s life his gamble had payed off. 

Bing bong. Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen, now that the fandom has more or less recovered from the initial adrenaline-fuelled frenzy and gift of: 2 brilliant ships and a li-ttle king Maxi (♪), it’s time to really appreciate the brilliant genius that is; John Finnemore.

Or, as they say in Limerick.


Now that you’ve all calmed the heck down,

I think we should give the real crown,

To Mr John Finnemore,

For his genius galore,

And the feels in which we all now drown.

To Fall in Love (Perchance)

The Taj Mahal glittered in the moonlight, lit by a thousand dancing lights and innumerable stars. If it was beautiful in the daytime, standing sharply out against a clear blue sky as a monument of brilliant marble, it was somehow transformed by the hush of nightfall into something even more magnificent still. The hard lines of stone were softened, muted, blurred by the darkness and the uncertain shimmer of the stars, stars that glinted off the dome and danced in the mirror of the long pool to be reflected back into the wide dark of the sky. It hardly felt real, this star and candle lit wonderland that echoed with laughter and music wafting on the warm night air, so far from the dreary realm of the ordinary as to be another world entirely.

A few short hours ago Martin would not have been able to even imagine this place, this panorama of breathtaking beauty that he had found himself in on a whim and a chance and a laugh. When Theresa had called out of the blue on their layover in Dehli to tell him that he should make it up to Agra as fast as he could with the nicest clothes he had with him, the possibility of ending up here and mingling with people such as these had not even flitted through his mind. Why would he ever assume that he was being invited to the birthday party of the King of Sweden, even if the woman inviting him was royalty herself? This wasn’t the sort of thing that happened to someone like him, not ever, and yet here he was in a borrowed tuxedo holding a glass of champagne he could never hope to purchase for himself, watching the light glimmering and dancing from the Taj Mahal flicker over the face of an actual, honest to goodness princess who was smiling at him with honest to goodness joy.

Keep reading

The Students Meet Theresa

Just a little something I wrote…

Pairing: Martin/Theresa

Rating K+ - T

Summary: The student’s of Parkside Terrace meet Theresa the morning after the date to the Duxford Air Museum.

The students of Parkside Terrace were gathered in Daniel’s room having gathered there after seeing something that had it not been for the others conformation none of them would have believed. Martin had told them that he had a date, and of course they were pleased for him, but they knew the drill after almost three years Martin had only had a handful of dates, but none of them had ever stayed the night, usually they left having been offended by something Martin had said but which they knew he hadn’t meant. They all had early starts this morning, and so Ali and Daniel who were usually the first up came down stairs to see Martin and his date curled up on the sofa fast asleep, once over the initial shock they went back upstairs quietly to wake the others, fearful that if Kate or Lucy saw them they would wake the sleeping pair. “Is there anything in the rule book about what happens if Martin has a date that stays the night?” Ali asked “Let me check” Daniel replied going to retrieve it from his desk draw, it was one of the things they all remembered to put away not wanting to risk Martin discovering it. After a few minutes of going over the rule book with a fine tooth comb they agreed to treat this as any other date of Martin’s. “OK, we better head down stairs, they’ll be awake soon, if not already, and there needs to be someone down there who speaks Martin” said Kate.

The students headed downstairs to find that Martin’s date was in the kitchen, this puzzled them further as clearly she was planning on staying a little while considering that she was baking “Oh, good morning” she said to them as they walked in to the kitchen “Good morning. I’m Daniel, and this is Kate, Lucy and Ali” Daniel said introducing them “Nice to meet you all. I am Princess Theresa of Lichtenstein” she introduced herself. They stood there in stunned silence Martin having a date was one thing, Martin having a date who stayed the night was a miracle. Martin’s date casually announcing that she was a princess whilst baking…Martin chose that moment to walk in “You’re all unusually quiet this morning, have you not had your coffee yet?” He asked them as he walked over to Theresa to kiss her on the cheek, but at the last second she turned her head so it ended up on her lips “Morning” they said to one another with a smile. The students watched in awe as Martin helped Theresa to bake, and her teasing him, which every time she did was met with either Martin wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her, or the two of them kissing.

Clearly this was going better than any of them expected so they gave the nod to do which no other Parkside Terrance student had done, actually get to know Martin’s date rather than running interference. They had been down stairs for half an hour and not once had any of them had to translate anything Martin had said, which was a significant improvement on the previous record of five minutes “So how did you two meet?” Lucy asked, she always had been the nosiest of the four of them. “Martin flew my brother and I to Fitton last week” Theresa replied. “I see” replied Daniel “And are you really a Princess” Lucy asked earning her a ‘you don’t just ask someone something like that’, in turn she gave them a ‘how else am I meant to ask look?’ “Yes I am. I am the Princess of Lichtenstein” she answered with a smile. The students looked at Martin “She really is, I’ve been to her castle and everything” Martin said “Yes, and I saved you from the dragon” Theresa said with a smile “Hmm…indeed you did” Martin replied kissing her again. “Let me get this straight. You are a Princess who likes Martin?” Daniel asked seeking absolute clarity. “That’s right” she replied.  “Sorry about them” Martin said. “Oh it’s alright, I think they just want to make sure you’re happy” Theresa replied. “Yeah it would be nice to see you happy for a change Martin” Kate said “Oh well…umm thank you” Martin said to them. At that point Theresa whispered something in his ear which caused him to go bright red laughing she pulled him out of the kitchen, and upstairs. Once they were sure the two of them were out of earshot they again had to confirm what they had just seen with one another, after finally agreeing that it did they grabbed something to eat on the way in as they were all now running late, they left a note for Martin on the work top and walked out the door. “So…” Lucy said as she joined the others at the front gate “When do we start planning the wedding?”

Observant - Team Bobsled/Sherlolly

I was always under the impression that Theresa is a bit younger than Martin, so read this as Martin being around 37, and Theresa being 33-34.

Arthur is really good with kids because he basically is one


***

  Martin stands on the patio, surveying the party. His garden is filled with friends and family - both his and Theresa’s – and everyone seems to be enjoying the rare sunny weather. He can’t help but laugh to himself when he spots Arthur sitting cross-legged on the grass, surrounded by a semi-circle of children as he animatedly explains the time they ‘flew over the polar bears’. Apparently he’s giving it a bit of embellishment, judging by the rather loud roar he’s just let out.

  Douglas and Herc are deep in conversation with Mycroft, who seems to be toning down his usual air of grandeur in an attempt to fit in; he’s even left his PA at home. Martin’s mum and Carolyn are over in the corner of the garden, laughing at a stack of his baby photos, which Wendy seems to have produced from nowhere. He’s just wondering where his wife has gone when a pair of thin arms wrap around his middle.

  “Sherlock and Molly are here.” Theresa murmurs in his ear, nuzzling her nose slightly into the back of his neck. He turns his head to meet her eyes, and is greeted with the sight of the other Holmes brother and his family entering the garden, waiting to say hello. Martin grins; Sherlock has been forced to leave his infamous coat at home, looking slightly odd in just a white shirt and dark grey trousers, carrying little Milo on his back. Molly looks radiant with her pale yellow sundress covering her baby bump – he’s heard people say before that pregnancy suits her.

  “Happy birthday, Martin!” she says, holding her arms out for a hug, and Martin goes to her willingly. He’d always liked Molly, even taking her out on a date or two before realising the extent of her feelings for Sherlock. She’d insisted that he be the godfather for the new baby, and he had been only too happy to accept.

  “Thank you,” he lets her go with a grin, winding one arm around Theresa’s waist. He turns to Sherlock, “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble driving all the way up here.”

  “Ever since your friend took it upon himself to teach Milo how to play ‘Yellow Car’, let’s just say that long journeys are an adventure.” Sherlock raises an eyebrow as his son holds up a lemon coloured toy car and squeals “Yellow car!”

“And look at you, Miles – you’re so big! Nearly as tall as me!”

  “That’s not very difficult, is it?” Sherlock mutters, chuckling when he receives a glare from the pilot. “Happy birthday.”

  “Cheers, Sherlock.”

***

  Later in the day, once Milo has located ‘his Arthur’ and clambered into his lap to share the steward’s slice of birthday cake, Sherlock  pulls up a plastic chair beside Martin and makes himself comfortable. He’s been forced to roll up the sleeves on his expensive shirt, cursing his half-brother for being born in the middle of summer as he grudgingly unbuttons the cuffs and folds them back to expose his pale arms.

  “Why couldn’t you have been born in winter?” he grumbles.

  “I didn’t choose my birthday!”

  “I did.”

  “Wh- you did not!”

  “Perhaps I didn’t, but at least I had the courtesy to be born in January instead of August.”

  Once Sherlock is sure that he looks presentable, he leans back in his chair and watches his son interacting with Arthur. It’s only when he looks over at Martin that he realises the other man is doing the same.

  “You must be so proud of him.” Martin says, somewhat dreamily.

  “What, Arthur? Mm, at least he’s learned to share food now-“

  “You know I’m talking about Milo.”

  Sherlock studies the other man’s face. Something in his expression when he watches his nephew makes the detective pause before he replies.

  “Yes. Very proud.”

  Martin nods, turning his beer bottle absentmindedly between his fingers. His gaze flits over to Theresa and Molly, who are also deep in conversation. As he watches, Molly takes his wife’s hand and gives it a squeeze, and he’s positive that they’re discussing the same subject that has been rolling around in his head for the past few months.

  “Still no success, then?” Sherlock at least has the decency to keep his voice low. Martin shakes his head, flattening his fringe down over his forehead, a tell-tale sign of just how stressed he is.

  “It’s been nearly a year, and nothing.”

  “It’ll happen, Martin.” The detective is trying his best to do the whole ‘reassuring big brother’ thing, but Martin scoffs.

  “That’s easy for you to say! One kid already and another on the way – not all of us have it as good as you do.”

  He’s trying not to feel bitter, he really is; but when he sees Sherlock with his perfect family, and his well-paid job, and his frankly inhuman good looks, he can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

  “Are you forgetting that you’re now a member of the royal family of Liechtenstein?”

  The pilot shoots him a look.

  “I may be married to a princess, but I’m still working as an underpaid pilot in Fitton. The only reason I get paid at all is because my wife owns part of the airline!” he sets his bottle down with far more force than necessary, “And none of this is helping me get her pregnant, is it?”

  “You seem to think that my family is idyllic, yes? But it seems to have escaped your notice that it’s taken four years for Molly to conceive again.”

  “Right, and how long did it take for her to conceive Milo? A few months, six at most? Here I am, nearly 12 months in and I’ve got nothing to show for it. No baby, not even… two pissy little lines on a white stick.” He covers his eyes and lets out a shaky breath.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap at you, but everything’s always been so easy for you and Mycroft, and I know it’s selfish – but when’s it going to be my turn?”

  Sherlock is briefly stunned into silence; he’s never seen Martin this on edge before, let alone heard him swear.

  “Martin…”

  Martin lets out a humourless laugh. “I’m fine, really. I think being surrounded by all the kids has got my back up, I’ll be alright later. I feel really bad for acting like a spoiled brat when all you’ve done is come to celebrate my birthday with me. Sorry.”

  “Martin, I think you might want to-“

  “It’s alright, just ignore me. Do you want a drink? Some food?” Martin gets up without waiting for an answer, and starts making his way across the garden. Sherlock watches as he crouches briefly to talk to one of Simon’s little girls, tickling her under the chin and grinning as she giggles. He watches Theresa appear at her husband’s side and whisper something in his ear, but gets distracted by the appearance of Molly. She takes the seat that Martin had vacated, leaning back with one hand on her stomach to get comfortable. Shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand, she mutters,

  “I take it I wasn’t the only one who found it obvious, then.”

  “Of course not. I knew as soon as she opened the front door. Martin’s just a little bit slow on the uptake.”

  “Bless him; I think he’s just about catching up.”

  They locate Martin and Theresa in a secluded corner of the garden, out of earshot of everyone else. The princess is clutching her husband’s hand and talking very fast, while he just looks completely dumbstruck. He blinks hard, asks her something, and her answer nearly causes his eyebrows to fly off his head as he slaps a hand over his mouth. She’s nodding at him, and then they’re both grinning and crying at the same time and Theresa throws her arms around Martin’s neck and kisses him hard. He’s whispering something over and over again, hands tangled in her hair, never breaking eye contact, and it’s obvious to anyone that can see them what he’s saying to her.

  “Thank you.” 

***


I’m not really sure about the ending, but it’s 1am and I wanted to have it up before I went to sleep and towards the end it sort of went a bit

So it’s gonna have to do for now

THE ‘PISSY LITTLE LINES’ PART WASN’T AN INTENTIONAL PUN