maybe i should drop the lock. but i love sherlock too

anonymous asked:

i don't want to be a pessimist here, i really hope destiel is endgame and after s12, and after i read some of your meta, (which is amazing btw), i mostly believe it will be, but i shipped johnlock too, and all the subtext and even text and the foreshadowing and all those hints that johnlock is endgame was all for nothing...or maybe just for queerbaiting, and i was really butthurt about it that i'm afraid to put any hopes up for destiel, how do you think destiel is different than johnlock?

I may be a bit controversial on tumblr about Johnlock because…. well I didn’t really see it like it was blatant and going to be canon, I saw it as subtext that was something they added to give it a bit of pizazz without thinking they were actually in love or that it would be endgame canon. 

I really enjoyed the first seasons of Sherlock (I just cannot get my head around how the last season worked at all, maybe I need to try again, but it just didn’t make any sense to me) and my interpretation was that Sherlock might be a bit romantically interested in John, but push come to shove he was more intellectually interested in him and the friendship they forged and I never really saw John as being romantically interested in Sherlock at all.

I felt like they added the subtext, which for me, was subtext only, to add a bit of spice to their chemistry and their character bond, but without actually meaning to make it romantic.

Now I see this differently to Destiel in that I read Destiel as 1. much more blatant because of the continuous and abundant nature of it, given that it is now nearly 9 years and much more material to work with due to there being…. around 135 hours of SPN since season 4 v 15 hours of Sherlock

2. But also that it is written into the script in terms of the fact that it has a real effect on the PLOT, not just sitting alongside it as subtext to be ‘enjoyed’ (I say ‘enjoyed’ because I know how painful it was to fans who really wanted it and it didn’t happen but for a lot of people I think it did add to the enjoyment of the show by deepening their character bond). Whole seasons don’t make sense without taking into account the deep feelings between Dean and Cas, I mean… seasons 4-6 are all about Cas saving the world because of his love for Dean, season 7 is one big long metaphor for Dean’s innermost thoughts and depression about Cas, season 11′s mytharc plots rests on Dean’s love for Cas and how Amara uses it… 

I totally feel for anyone who felt queerbaited by Johnlock because I genuinely do think that they put subtext in there on purpose thinking it would be a great addition to the chemistry but had no intention of going through with it as it was just that, a fanciful way to deepen their connection without it really being actually scripted love (honestly this is wanky, but I really don’t rate Martin Freeman as an actor, I find him so cold that it wouldn’t surprise me if they upped the written subtext in order to counter his wooden performance),  I just don’t think they realised how much people would feel cheated by it.

With Dean and Cas, their story is much longer as stated above which enables it to go much deeper into so many more romantic tropes, for them to be portrayed as much more of the romance than the buddy trope, I think they fulfil like 67% of romance tropes? where most couples on tv / in movies settle at most around 10-25% ish? This is because they are able to do so due to the pure length of time we have been watching them and because they are actively portraying it in this way. I’m trying to remember how many Dean and Sam fill and Sam and Cas fill? I think Dean/Sam is like 12% and Cas/Sam is probably about 2%! So there is a real reason why it is so strong with just these two…

Season 12 is all about taking it now from the subtext into the text, we have been watching it with a similar “will they won’t they” attitude towards TPTB as with Johnlock up til now, even though it was scripted and much more plot - related I believe, there was still a chance that they would potentially back out, even if it didn’t make sense for the story, it was still a possibility because I think a lot of the GA don’t really see the way that the story doesn’t make sense without it.

For example in season 11, I think many of the GA just look at the top level and don’t read into WHY Amara couldn’t contact Dean without going through Cas, how her forced bond with Dean was not as strong as his chosen bond with Cas even though she was GOD’S SISTER or WHY Amara’s whole interactions with Dean were all about him repressing his emotions, loving, but it being clouded in shame, holding himself back. 

I mean some people were shocked at some of what Dean said in 12x22, they were also shocked at how Dean acted in 12x11 and a lot of this season said he was OOC, which he absolutely WAS NOT, he was entirely HIMSELF and that was the point! That he had DROPPED the facade so his true self was showing through in snippets and I’m sure these people will be absolutely shocked when he acts more and more like this in season 13.

I feel like to get through to some people Dean literally has to say something blatant like “Sammy I’m done pretending, this is me, deal with it, oh and by the way, I like dudes too” before taking a big bite of a Chicken Parmeggiano and ordering an ice cream sundae and getting back to business, cos man the point is, he’s not that different, there’s just a few things he keeps locked away, but his whole character isn’t going to change.

Anyway, same goes for Destiel, it’s going to have to be eased in slowly but made blatant now and I feel like season 12 was the first part and season 13 should be the second, before it can go canon, so that people aren’t shocked by it, in exactly the same way as they did Performing!Dean this season, ramping up the subtext before taking it into the text and then finally making it canon.

So now after season 12 it feels to me that with all the bad PR around queer baiting with Sherlock, with all the bad PR around Supernatural (if you google queer baiting SPN comes up on the first page), it would be diabolically stupid for the new showrunner to ramp up the subtext like this and bring it into the text as he did from mid season 11 onwards, without taking it towards endgame canon.

It doesn’t mean they will for 100% sure but I would be so confused if they didn’t now, it would literally be the worst kind of ongoing, not just subtextual but textual now queerbaiting and a total shambles of a PR disaster as well as making NO sense to their own story which has been so carefully crafted for over a decade. 

I don’t think they’re THAT stupid to take a beautiful story and rip the soul of it out, destroying their credibility as writers as well as PR Hell…

I have trust in Andrew Dabb until proven otherwise :)

Heartfilled Confession

Part two to: Pretending to hate eachother AU

Requested?: Holy shit yes it was

Summary: Nico was a close friend during your first few days/ weeks at camp… Why is he so cold all of a sudden?

Warning: Sameful Fluff… its almost too fluffy to hold >.<

“Wait what?” You quickly asked the Latino who sat on the deck of the ship still. He nodded and pushed himself up to his feet while speaking, “ Jeez, it’s so obvious so I don’t know how you haven’t noticed. I thought you knew him well enough before all this that he pushes people away when he really likes them.” Leo blurted out with a small chuckle escaping his lips to ease the mood. You face-palmed at your stupidity, Nico was actually a really close friend of yours before he started shoving you away a few days after you came to camp.

You sighed and muttered a quick “Be right back” under your breath before turning towards the direction of the boat cabins. You shuffled quietly- yet swiftly down the stairs and corridor before you heard a faint echo if footsteps trail past the doors to the rooms and continue down the hall. You pushed yourself forward in order to go around the corner faster than you already were; the result being the glimpse of a black pants leg going quickly around the corner. You furrowed your brow and darted after him, up a staircase that headed to the upper deck- why head downstairs if you’re only going back up you idiot? You thought to yourself. You rolled your eyes at his actions before speeding after him.

Keep reading

The Midnight Lovers

Summary: After an argument you leave your boyfriend, Greg. Months later your friends ask you on a road trip, only Greg was invited too. What the two of you don’t know is your friends have planned this trip to try and get the pair of you to rekindle. But will it work?

Warnings: None!

Chapter 2

A sinking feeling swept over you. You knew what Jim was going to talk to you about.

You and Greg.

You and Jim were so unbelievably close as friends, you shared the deepest of secrets with him and he shared his with you. You both just got each other. Not to mention the fact that you are both amazing pranksters. You had chatted with Jim lots times after storming out that night and you always tried to avoid him bringing it up by changing the subject. There was no hiding from Jim now.

He closed the door of the bedroom he was sharing with Sherlock behind him “Well?” He raised a brow as you sat yourself down on his bed.

“Well what?”

Jim rolled his eyes and moved towards you, sitting at the top of the bed with his legs crossed. You turned to face him and mirrored his position. “You and Greg. You never told me the reason why you stormed out all those months ago”.

You let out a sigh and your gaze fell to your hands “We would just argue and bicker over the silliest things. It was never like that before we got together. Maybe we just saw each other in a different light. I admit what I did, just storming out, was stupid. I lost more than a boyfriend that day. I lost my best friend”.

“Hey!” Jim whined “I thought I was your best friend?” You playfully rolled your eyes and pushed his shoulder slightly.

“Enough about me,” you sighed out “What about you and Sherlock?” You asked and you saw Jim’s demeanour shift.

“What about me and Sherlock?” He scoffed and folded his arms like a sulking five year old.

Your brows furrowed “What happened?! You were so close to asking him out!”.

“Mycroft happened!” Jim huffed “He told me I should just stay away, that Sherlock doesn’t need me and that he needs to focus on Uni. I think that what he was saying is that Sherlock is too good for someone like me…” Your heart tightened in your chest for him. Jim was never the best at showing any feelings nor was he the best at expressing his emotions.

“Who cares what Mycroft thinks,” you told him and he perked up a little “It’s what you want. He shouldn’t interfere. I’m sure if you just sat down and told Sherlock how you feel everything will fall into place after that” you smiled and clutched onto his hand “Come on, I’m sure I saw some of Sherlock’s socks we can hide to annoy him” you winked and an ecstatic smile spread over Jim’s face.

Twenty minutes later you had emerged out the room with Jim. Sherlock suspiciously narrowed his eyes at the both of you. Mary was in the small kitchen making some tea and you joined her “Hey, need some help?” You asked and she tilted her head to you.

“Nope I’m alright, you want a cup?” She asked and you replied with a no “You feeling alright about…everything?” She asked hinting towards Greg being on the trip.

You nodded and sent her a thin lipped smile “Yeah,” you leaned in a bit closer to her to whisper “I think I’ll have a talk with him later”. Mary nodded with a proud smile, she really hoped you would work things out with Greg.

You sat down across from him, grabbing your book that you took everywhere with you and settled down as the camper passed through the English countryside. “I got you that book…” A timid voice caught the attention of your ears and your eyes flickered from the pages to Greg then back to the page.

“You did. Thank you” you acknowledged him, surprising everyone. Including yourself.

“You….you don’t have to thank me” Greg stuttered out and you started to get irritated. You just wanted to read in peace.

“Well I am, thank you for such a beautiful book. Pity that it was probably the only beautiful thing about us.” You snapped out, irritated. Everyone winced slightly at your tone, you were even disheartened by it. You didn’t mean to be so snappy, but you were stubborn enough not to apologise.

A moment of uncomfortable silenced hung over the van before Greg opened his mouth again “You don’t mean that.”

He was right, you didn’t mean that.

You looked up to him with sad eyes before returning to the words written in your book bursting with beautiful poems. This page read; ‘The rain is cold and bitter like a jealous lover. Yet rain is endearing and stubborn. The drops kissed your skin. It loved you. Like everything else on this earth and beyond.’-anonymous.

The book was a staple. Greg got it for your birthday years ago when you first met him. You had read it over and over again countless of times, you loved it. It was basic, no pictures, a plain brown paper cover with the words ‘Poems for her by anonymous’ on it.

He said he found it nestled between two overbearing books at a bookshop. It was the greatest gift you had ever gotten. You had a book mark with everyone printed on it that permanently lived between the pages of this book. You put it down on your lap and looked up to Greg between your lashes “No I didn’t,” you uttered out under your breath. Greg let out a small sigh of relief just as John was stopping at a campsite for the night.

John and Mary set up a small barbecue for dinner and you all sat in a comfortable silence before sharing stories about uni. However you and Greg both kept quiet, sharing subtle glances between one another.

It was nearing eleven at night when you felt a small tap on your shoulder, your head tilted up towards those brown eyes you once fell for.

And never stopped falling for them, not even now.

“Can we talk?”

Tags: (Let me know if you’d like to be tagged/Untagged)

@adorablebadger @damnitman-jamlocked-inthetardis @musingsofophelia @lock-sherlock @wcsteland @cutie1365 @holmes-maev



Gifs not mine.


said: Jim x reader fic where reader is insecure about body/weight and he makes her feel special and stuff? then he maybe starts doing random things to remind her that he cares and loves her? thx! I love your blog! xx

James Moriarty was the Napoleon of crime so it was understandable that you wouldn’t see him very often as he was away most of the time. He often seemed quite distant when he was home because of his business. He was more of a passionate and ‘hands on’ kind of boyfriend. He wasn’t too affectionate but he could be. You often felt like he didn’t care. You loved him of course but you did not feel like he cared. He’d buy you whatever he wanted at the drop of a hat no matter what the cost. You thought that he was doing this to make you feel like he loved you but actually didn’t. You felt lonely… Even when he was home.



The dress fit you perfectly. It was yellow and very summery. Jim had promised to take you out for a picnic. No one would have dared to call him out and spoken to him when he was out in public. You twirled in front of the mirror but you didn’t see the beauty in yourself. To you, the dress felt too small and showed stomach rolls. It didn’t but that’s what you saw. You kept tugging at the bottom of your dress because you worried that it was too short. It wasn’t. You sighed and reconsidered your choice of clothing. Maybe you should just play it safe and wear shorts and T-shirt. But maybe your thighs would look too big or your shirt may be too tight and make you look fat or the shirt could show sweat stains. You wanted to lock yourself in your room and cry but then Jim would notice. Except Jim was watching you already. He stood in the doorway to your bedroom however it was out of view from the mirrors reflection. Your own insecurities were eating away at your mind so you couldn’t concentrate on anything else anyway.

“You look lovely today,” Jim said startling you.

“Oh!” You exclaimed. “Jim, I didn’t see you there.”

He chuckled. “Clearly.” He looked you up and down. “You’re gorgeous.”

You smiled. “I guess so…”

“No. You don’t see yourself in any other way but ugly. You’re not ugly though.”

“Well I’m not as beautiful as you seem to think I am.”

“You are. We are not leaving until you admit you're beautiful.”

“I doubt-”

“I’ll use force if I have to.” You raised an eyebrow at him and crossed your arms as if to say 'try me.’ He walked slowly towards you and started kissing you. He worked his way down your neck and collarbone before stopping. He knew he’d have to try harder. He ticked your ribs causing a squeal to leave your lips. He knew he’d found your weakness. He threw you onto the bed and tickled you further.

“Stop!” You yelled between giggles. He shook his head. “Okay fine! I’m beautiful.”

He stopped immediately. “Look me in the eye and say that again.”

You met his gaze. “I’m beautiful.” He kissed you and laid beside you. He pulled you close to him. It was these moments that made loving the consulting criminal worth it.



After that, it made Jim notice that he hadn’t been spending enough time with you or hadn’t been showing you enough affection. He’d start taking more time out of his day to see you or he’d just hold your hand more or hug you more. He’d always make you feel special and loved. And you loved him.

Hello Detective (Sherlock) Chapter 33

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   Part 11   Part 12   Part 13   Part 14   Part 15   Part 16   Part 17   Part 18   Part 19   Part 20   Part 21   Part 22   Part 23   Part 24   Part 25   Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Part 29  Part 30  Part 31  Part 32  Part 33   Part 34   Part 35   Part 36   Part 37   Part 38  Part 39   Part 40     Part 41   Part 42   Part 43   Part 44   Part 45   Part 46   Part 47   Part 48   Part 49   Part 50  Part 51  Part 52  Part 53  Part 54  Part 55   Part 56  Part 57 Part 58 Part 59 Part 60

The four of you sat in the same office you had found Mycroft in earlier. Mycroft was sitting across from Irene Adler at the table, while you and Sherlock were sitting in chairs in front of the fire.

“We have people who can get into this.” Mycroft said, tapping the phone.

“I tested that theory for you. I let Sherlock Holmes try it for two months. Sherlock, dear, tell him what you found when you x-rayed my camera-phone.” Irene said. Had two months really passed? It seemed to go by in a blink.

“There are four additional units wired inside the casing. I suspect containing acid or a small amount of explosive. Any attempt to open the casing will burn the hard drive.” Sherlock said.

“Explosive. It’s more me.” Irene said with a smirk.

“Some data is always recoverable.” Mycroft said.

“Take that risk.” Irene said.

“You have a passcode to open this. I deeply regret to say we have people who can extract it from you.” Mycroft said.

“Let’s let Y/N have a go at this one.” Irene said.

“There will be two passcodes, one to open the phone, one to burn the drive. Even under duress, you can’t know which one she’s given you and there will be no point in a second attempt.” You said, scowling at her. You heard Mycroft sigh.

“So smart aren’t they? I should have them on a leash. In fact I might.” Irene said. You looked back to her and rolled your eyes.

“We destroy this, then. No one has the information.” Mycroft suggested.

“Fine. Good idea. Unless there are lives of British citizens depending on the information you’re about to burn.” Irene said.

“Are there?” Mycroft asked.

“Telling you would be playing fair. I’m not playing any more.” Irene said, you wanted nothing more than to punch her in the face right now.

“A list of my requests, and some ideas about my protection once they’re granted.” Irene said, sliding an envelope over to Mycroft.

“I’d say it wouldn’t blow much of a hole in the wealth of a nation, but then I’d be lying.” Irene said, and judging by the look on Mycroft’s face you didn’t think she was lying.

“I’d imagine you want to sleep on it?” Irene said.

“Thank you, yes.” Mycroft said, still reading the list.

“Too bad. Off you pop and talk to people.” Irene said, now you really wanted to punch her.

Mycroft sighed and sat back in his chair.

“You’ve been very thorough. I wish our lot were half as good as you.” Mycroft said.

“I can’t take all the credit, I had a bit of help. Oh, Jim Moriarty sends his love.” Irene said, his name send shivers down your spine. It clearly had an effect on Sherlock as well, his eyes widened at the sound of it.

“Yes, he’s been in touch. Seems desperate for my attention, which I’m sure can be arranged.” Mycroft said.

“I had all this stuff, never knew what to do with it. Thank God for the consultant criminal.” Irene said, now sitting on the edge of the table. “Gave me a lot of advice about how to play the Holmes boys. Do you know what he calls you? The IceMan, and the Virgin, though I suppose he’s going to have to think of a new one for you. He didn’t even ask for anything, I think he just likes to cause trouble. Now, that’s my kind of man.”

“And here you are, the dominatrix who brought a nation to its knees. Nicely played.” Mycroft said, standing.

“No.” Sherlock suddenly said, causing everyone to turn to him, confused.

“Sorry?” Irene asked with a smile.

“I said no. Very, very close, but no. You got carried away. The game was too elaborate, you were enjoying yourself too much.” Sherlock said, standing and walking towards Irene. You shifted to the end of your seat, curious as to what he was getting at.

“There’s no such thing as too much.” Irene said.

“Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine. Craving the distraction of the game, I sympathise entirely, but sentiment. Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side.” Sherlock said, and you stood in your place, confused.

“Sentiment? What are you talking about?” Irene asked with a smile.

“You.” Sherlock answered, simply.

“Oh, dear God. Look at the poor man. You don’t actually think I was interested in you? Why? Because you’re the great Sherlock Holmes. The clever detective in the funny hat. Careful, you might give Y/N a heart attack.” Irene said, looking to you.

“No. Because I took your pulse. Elevated. Your pupils dilated. I imagine John Watson thinks love’s a mystery to me, but the chemistry is incredibly simple and very destructive.” sherlock said, taking the camera phone off of the table behind Irene and walking towards you.

“When we first met you told me that a disguise is always a self portrait. How true of you. The combination to your safe, your measurements, but this, this is far more intimate. This is your heart and you should never let it rule your head.” Sherlock said, as he began to type a password in.

“You could have chosen any random number and walked out of here today with everything you’ve worked for. But you just couldn’t resist it, could you?” Sherlock said.

“Everything I said, it’s not real.” Irene said, grabbing his arm, trying to stop him. “I was just playing the game.”

“I know, and this is just losing.” Sherlock said, typing in the final number. He turned it so Irene could see. When you saw the screen your mouth dropped open, and a tear slipped out of Irene Adler’s eyes.


“There you are brother. I hope the contents make up for any inconvenience I may have caused you tonight.” Sherlock said, handing the phone to Mycroft, who was now standing beside you.

“I’m certain they will.” Mycroft said.

“If you’re feeling kind, lock her up, otherwise let her go. I doubt she’ll survive long without her “protection”.” Sherlock said.

“Are you expecting me to beg?” Irene asked with tears in her eyes.

“Yes.” Sherlock said, walking towards you.

“Please. You’re right. I won’t even last six months.” Irene said.

“Sorry about dinner.” Sherlock said as he slipped his arm around your waist and lead you out the door.

A week later you were walking down to Baker Street in the rain, holding your umbrella high above your head. Outside the door of Speedy’s you saw Mycroft under his umbrella, smoking.

“You don’t smoke.” You said, once you noticed him.

“I also don’t frequent cafes.” He said, closing his umbrella and slipping inside, you did the same.

You sat opposite of him at a table and he slipped a file out of his briefcase.

“Is that the file on Irene Adler?” You asked.

“Closed forever.” Mycroft said. “I’m about to go inform my brother, or if you prefer, you are, that she somehow got herself into a Witness Protection scheme in America. New name, new identity. She will survive and thrive, but he will never see her again.”

“Why would he care? He despised her at the end.” You said.

“My brother has the brain of a scientist or a philosopher, yet he elects to be a detective. What might we deduce about his heart?” Mycroft asked.

“I don’t know.” You answered.

“Neither do I. But initially he wanted to be a pirate.” Mycroft smiled.

“He’ll be okay with this, Witness Protection, never seeing her again, he’ll be fine.” You said.

“I agree. That’s why I decided to tell him that.” Mycroft said, you sighed when you understood.

“She’s dead.” You stated.

“She was captured by a terrorist cell in Karachi and beheaded.” Mycroft explained.

“It was definitely her? She’s done this before.” You said.

“I was thorough this time. It would take Sherlock Holmes to fool me, and I don’t think he was on hand, do you?” Mycroft asked. “So, what should we tell Sherlock?”

Mycroft pushed the file towards you. Clearly it was best to lie to him in this situation. Sherlock wasn’t one for guilt, but sometimes everyone feels it. If he knew Irene Adler was killed he would feel responsible and you didn’t want that.

You walked up the stairs to his flat and saw him sitting at the kitchen table, looking through his microscope.

“Clearly you’ve got news.” Sherlock said as you reached the top of the stairs.

“Hi, it’s about Irene Adler.” You said.

“Well?” He asked. “Has something happened, has she come back?”

“No, no, she’s… I just bumped into Mycroft downstairs, he had to take a call.”

“Is she back in London?” Sherlock asked.

“No. She’s in America. Got herself on a Witness Protection scheme, apparently. I don’t know how she swung it.” You said. Sherlock was now standing in front of you.

“How was your day?” He asked, bending down to kiss you.

‘Um, fine I guess.” You answered.

“Want to go to dinner?” He asked.

“Yeah, sure. I’ve got to run this down to Mycroft though.” You said, still holding the file. He nodded.

You brought the file down to Mycroft and told him that you had decided to not tell him Irene was dead. You walked back up the stairs, Sherlock was waiting in the doorway.

“Maybe we can skip dinner and go straight to dessert.” Sherlock said with a smirk. You laughed.

“You think so?” You smiled.

“Yeah I do.” He smiled and kissed you. Suddenly he picked you up bridal style and carried you to the bedroom. You giggled when he lifted you. Sherlock was back, your Sherlock was back, and you were loving every minute of it.

Why we may never meet Baby Watson

I’ve posted various theories on the pregnancy before, and I still don’t think we have enough clues to come up with one as the clear probable case. Mary’s faking it? Maybe. John’s not the father? Possibly. Stillborn? Parentlock? Baby is an alien? Sure, why not.

Then I started thinking about the few times from the end of TSo3 onward that the baby is actually mentioned. And from a writer’s perspective, one thing started to stick out. But that thing is…well, a bit not good.

Keep reading

After the vows had been exchanged, they had all sat down to dinner under a sky painted rose and heather and tangerine by the setting sun, the faintest flecks of stars beginning to peek through. Now that the food has been eaten, the happy couple toasted, the champagne drunk, and the dancing begun, Sherlock finds himself alone at a table, looking around at nothing in particular. John has excused himself to give his regards to the newlyweds, and everyone else has made their way to the patio-turned-dance floor. Sherlock lets his eyes linger for a moment on the guests dancing there and wishes, for the millionth or so time in his life, that he were a different kind of man–perhaps the kind who feels comfortable asking a stranger to dance, or, better yet, asking the one person he really wants to hold in his arms as they spin gracefully around the floor, eyes locked on one another, the world around them melting away. But Sherlock isn’t that kind of man.

The memory of the last time he had wanted to dance at a wedding needles him, and Sherlock has to fight to tamp down the regret and sadness he still feels about that entire situation. Yes, John is back at Baker Street now and Mary is long gone, but part of Sherlock still hates that he hadn’t been more vocal about his desires, that he hadn’t tried harder to stop John from marrying her. He knows it’s selfish–though he tells himself it would have saved both of them a lot of pain and suffering in the long run. The whole thing fills him with self-loathing. He hadn’t been good enough to peg Mary as the liar she really was from the start. He hadn’t been brave enough to tell John how he felt. And in the end he hadn’t been quick enough to prevent Mary from absconding with John’s daughter, both of them disappearing into the night like phantoms. The guilt eats at Sherlock until he pushes himself away from the table and slips into the darkness. He follows the low garden wall to the farthest corner, well outside the warm sphere of light cast by the lanterns surrounding the patio. Sherlock lifts his long legs carefully up and over before taking a seat on the wall, facing out at the surrounding hills looming nearly invisible in the darkness. He could really use a cigarette. Instead he watches the stars emerge as his vision adjusts, and when the slight autumn breeze ruffles his hair, he wishes he had thought to bring his coat.

Soft footsteps behind him. An all-too-familiar cadence. John.

“There you are. I was wondering where you’d got off to.”

“Mmm,” Sherlock hums noncommittally. John stops just behind him, close enough that Sherlock could lean his head back against John’s chest if he wanted to. And he does want to. But he doesn’t move. Since John has come home, they seem to have found their rhythm again, and Sherlock doesn’t want to screw that up. Sometimes though, there are little touches–John’s arm glancing off Sherlock’s as they walk, John’s fingers brushing across his as John hands him a cup of tea, John’s hand gently squeezing Sherlock’s bicep in an occasional gesture of… friendship? understanding? support? Sherlock isn’t sure. He also isn’t sure if they actually happen more often now or if he just notices them more often now that he is more attuned to the effect that John has on him. Either way, he doesn’t think that his head resting on John’s chest would be welcome. It’s too… intimate. And so he restrains the desire that pulses through him with every beat of his heart.

John clambers over the wall, his shorter legs making the movement far less graceful than Sherlock’s had been, and takes a seat next to him. Sherlock can feel the fabric of John’s suit jacket catch ever so slightly on his own where their arms graze against each other. They sit in companionable silence, the strains of a recent pop hit floating gently away from the cottage, past where they’re huddled on the wall, and out into the open night.

John eventually breaks the silence with a quiet sigh. “I never should have gotten married.”

Keep reading

Chapter 41: No Bullshit


“I know my gift is here somewhere.” I mumbled shuffling through my trunk. Wow, I buy a lot of shit. I heard a voice behind me.


I turned around and my eyes widened in shock and anger.

“Thomas, what the hell are you doing here?! I already dealt with Gold’s trashy ass and now I gotta deal with you?” I spat viciously. I really don’t have the time. These motherfuckers must think I’m playing when I say I’m done with this life and I’m not coming back.

“Rue, listen-”

I felt someone pull me back and I looked up to see it was Chris with the angriest expression on his face.


He cut me off “Nigga I thought I told you to stay away from my wife. Stay away from her and my house.”

I looked between him and Thomas and Thomas displayed no fear but didn’t reply.

Chris stepped up to him. “And if you don’t understand English, I’ll translate in ass whooping.”

I pulled Chris by his arm towards the house. Chris was riled up telling me to let him go so he can give Thomas a “proper translation.” I rolled my eyes dragging him inside.

“Chris, really?”

“What? That nigga hurt you! He hurt you bad! I’m gonna kill him!”

I couldn’t help but smirk at how protective Chris is.

“Chris, its ok.” I reassured wrapping my arms around him.

“You’re right. It is. Because if he never hurt you, I would’ve never got you.”

I laughed feeling myself tear up. “You’re so fucking cheesy.”

“Cheese is delicious.”

“But gives you constipation.”

Chris scrunched up his nose in disgust. “That’s nasty.”

I laughed pushing away from him and going back to the party. Everyone was of course fawning over the beautiful birthday girl. I was talking when Kim tapped my shoulder.

“Kae, look at this!” She turned to Angie and started to sing.

“Butt naked nasty or nah? Can you make it butt naked or nah?”

As Kim sang, Angie dropped her little booty on the ground and back up giggling. Aww she’s twerking! Well, trying to. It was cute and the girls kept cheering her on.

“What are y’all teaching my grandbaby?” Mama J laughed watching her.

“Mama.” Angie mumbled doing her little baby twerk.

I cheesed hard. “Yes I see you, baby.”

“What the hell is she doing?!” Ty yelled with an angry expression his face.

I laughed. “Ty, calm down.”

“Nah, y’all got my niece doing ratchet stuff!”

“What the hell is Angelina Marie Brown doing?” Chris stormed with his hands on his hips in a non feminine way.

“Y’all need to calm down. She’s just twerking her little booty Kae gave her.” Teyana answered holding up her phone. “Twerk for Aunty. Butt Naked Nasty or-”

“Nah! Cut that shit out! I see that little boy eyeballing my daughter!” Chris pointed to his friend Trell’s nephew and picked up Angel.

“The only man you need is your daddy, baby.” Chris kissed her and we all cooed.

Seiko put a hand on his shoulder. “I love to burst your bubble, so you know she’s gonna get older, right?”

“No! She’s staying Daddy’s LITTLE girl forever. Isn’t that right, baby?” He kissed her repeatedly causing her to squeal in delight.

I smiled placing my hand over my heart. My babies.


Angie squealed in delight as I kissed her. This is my baby girl. My Angel. No one else’s. She got down and began to walk/run outside and me and the rest of the guys followed. We stood outside just chilling and talking.

“So do you and Kae want anymore kids?” Ty asked me.

I sighed watching Angie play ball with Bow. “We never talked about it and right now is not a good time but yeah. I want a lot of kids. Around like 18. A nigga needs a basketball team.”

Ty chuckled. “Good luck with telling Kae that.”

Suddenly, all that was heard was the quick pitter patter of Angie’s feet and Bow chasing after her.

“This girl is energetic as fuck!” Bow breathed taking a seat.

Angel stood there giggling and I snapped a photo.

@chrisbrown: Happy Birthday, Lil Sunshine

When it got late, the birthday girl fell asleep in my arms and the guests began to leave. I went into Angel’s room placing her in her crib.

“Damn baby girl. You’re already 1. I can’t believe a year ago, you came into my life. It seems liike just yesterday, your mom was cursing me out and then you came. You’re one of my greatest gifts God has sent me. I love you so much.” I placed a soft kiss on her forehead and I watched as her little mouth formed a cute little smirk.

I walked out of Angel’s room to find Kae laying down watching TV in the living room. I eyed the big window door that led out to the patio and the pool. I grew a mischevious grin and opened the patio door. Kae sat up looking at me confused.

“Why did you open the door?”

“Oh I just wanted to get a better view.” I cheesed more coming up to her.

She furrowed her eyebrows getting off the couch. Before she could say anything, I picked her up in my arms. She smiled hooking her arms around my neck.

“Do you love me, baby?” I questioned her.


“Who do you love?”

“Mhh. Lance Gross.” She licked her lips.

I kissed my teeth. Oh so she got jokes? Its cool, I got something for that ass. I moved quickly outside and hovered her over the pool.

“Now who do you love?”

Her eyes grew big. “Oh My God! Chris, let me go! My hair’s straightened!”

“Not until you tell me.”

“I told you!”

“Ok.” I slowly lowered her into the pool and Kae held onto me tighter.


“Get low, get low, get low, get low.” I sang as I continued lowering her.

“CHRISTOPHER!” Kae screamed.

“Baby, who do you love?” I asked in YG’s voice.


“Say it again!”


I smiled placing her on her feet. “And don’t you ever forget that.”

“Dipshit.” Kae glared at me.

“I love you too.” I pecked her lips and she gave me a small smile.

We walked inside the house when she spoke up.

“Baby, I was thinking that maybe we should, um….” she trailed off playing with her ring.

“We should, um, what?”

“Start planning the wedding.” Kae blurted out.

I let a low whistle. “Damn babe, I was hoping we can wait until after I get X out.”

Kae was taken aback. “Oh well, I guess that’s fine.”

“But if my baby wants to plan her wedding now, then she can start now.” I smiled at her and she smiled back.

“Chris?” Kae turned over to face me.


“What do you think Thomas wanted to talk about?” She asked with fear laced in her words.

I clenched my fists but contained my anger. “Nothing. He’s dead to us.”

“But he came out of nowhere. It could be important.”

“If it was important, he would’ve told me the first time!” I snapped.

Kae became mute and turned her back towards me causing me to sigh.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap on you like that. It’s just seeing that nigga after everything he did to you, it makes me mad.”

She turned around giving me a smile. “It’s ok.”

“I just don’t want him anywhere near you, ok?”


I pulled her close and started kissing her neck. “So why don’t I make you wet the bed?”

Kae laughed nervously pushing away from me.

“About that…..”

I groaned loudly. “You on your period?”

She scoffed. “No.”

My eyes widened. “You’re pregnant?!”


“Then what is it?”

“Um, well I was talking to a priest for our wedding and I want us to practice celibacy.”


His face turned stone cold at the word celibacy. I’ve been thinking about this for a while now and I think it’s good for us. It gives us more time to focus on ourselves.

“Celibacy? Is that another religion because I’m a devout Christian, Kae.” Chris replied.

I rolled my eyes playfully. “So am I, which is why I wanna practice celibacy. Celibacy is not having sex until we’re married.”


“Yeah. No sex. Good night.” I turned over, put out the light, and drifted off to sleep.

I woke the next morning and stretched. I looked to my left to see Chris with the same expression from last night.

“Chris, are you still upset?”

“Hell yeah! You just gonna lock my pussy away like that?!” Chris crossed his arms.

I got out of bed stretching and yawning. “Come on. It’s good for us.”

“No the hell it ain’t!”

“Chris, we’re sinners.”

“We are not!”

“Fornication and having a child out of wedlock is not a sin?” I crossed my arms.

“So? We’ll sin again. God will forgive us.” He got out of bed.

“No we need to cleanse ourselves of sin. Sorry but I’m not sorry.” I got into the bathroom and locked the door.

When I finished my morning routine and got dressed, I called telling him I’m going to talk to him. I got in my car and drove to Thomas’ house. I know Chris wants me to stay away from him, but this could be important. What Chris doesn’t know, won’t kill him. I hesistated to knock on the door. What if its not important? What if he just came back to ruin my life again?”

I didn’t get a chance to choose when the door opened and I came face to face with Thomas.



“Come in.”

I walked inside and I blew air out of my mouth looking around.

“Wow. You did well.” I commented.

“Thanks. You can take a seat in the living room.”

I nodded walking inside the living room and my face dropped. Erin.

“What the fuck is your stank ass doing here?!” I snapped.

“I’m here because this concerns me too, you whack ass bitch.” She stood up.

I scoffed. “Cunt.”

Thomas came in between us. “All right, guys let’s chill. I know y’all hate each other, but chill.”

“I hate you too.” I glared at him.

“We all hate each other but damn it. Act mature. This shit is serious.” He stated looking at both of us.

“What is it? Don’t bullshit me.” I folded my arms keeping my glare.

Thomas sighed. “Well, The Boss is after us.”

“No shit, sherlock.” Erin spat sarcastically.

“I’m not finished. Because we left, his buisness went under. That’s why he’s so pissed.”

“And…..” I urged.

“There’s someone else after us. I think its Attica.”

“Impossible. We haven’t associated with Attica since what happened years ago.”

“Because he’s been planning. He’s after us.” Thomas stated with all seriousness.

“So what do we do?” Erin questioned.

“I don’t know.” He confessed.

“We have to do something because this shit is getting out of hand!” I panicked.

“Calm down, Rue.” Thomas commanded.

“I’m not gonna calm down! I’m engaged!” I flashed my ring in his face. “Damn it! I have a fiancé and daughter to think about! My life is finally getting good and I refuse to get everything I love taken away from me! Not again!”

The room fell silent with my words hanging in the air. I was staring at both of them to show how adamant I am about this.

“I’ll think of something. Ok?”

“You better.” I walked out of his house slamming the door.

Today was a busy today. Meeting with my manager, a wedding planner, etc. I looked at the clock. Damn 3 a.m.? I need to take my ass to sleep. I put on my pj’s and instead of falling asleep, I scolled down twitter. Chris came into the room in just boxers and a mischevious grin. I know what he’s thinking and the answer is no.


He hovered over me. “I ain’t afraid to drown if I’m drowning deep up in your ocean.”

“No, but do you prefer the Pacific Ocean?” I snapped sitting up.

He groaned. “Come on, babe.”


“You know you’re gonna give me that pussy, right?”

“No!” I ran out of bed and he chased me.

“That’s my pussy, baby!” He sang as I ran into the kitchen.

“I am celibate!” I stayed on one side of the island.

“I’m not. Ooh baby let’s get naked, just we can make sweet loveeeeee!”

“Sinful love!” I corrected him.

“That sinful love created our baby girl.” He made his way around the island.

“I’m grateful for her but no. Fornication is bad!”

“If you want it then I got it. We should be body to body!” Chris kept moving smoothly and I moved away making sure I was always across from him.

“No!” I ran upstairs.

“We can do all night, girl!” I heard his voice behind me.


“Don’t you be on that bullshit!”

I ran into the bedroom trying to close the door but he pushed against it.

“Chris, no sex!”

“Don’t you be on that bullshit!”

“Chris, stopppp.” I whined.

“Rueche, I don’t think you hear me! Don’t you be on that bullshit!”

I shrieked still pushing the door with all my strength. Lord help me.

benedict-cumbercrack-deactivate  asked:

are you still taking prompts? could you do potter!lock where sherlock and molly get detention maybe? thanks :)

With more force than was necessary, Sherlock dumped another stack of pots into the sink, an action that Molly received with a heavy sigh and a even larger roll of her eyes.

You’re the one who caused the explosion.”

“I wouldn’t have caused the explosion if you hadn’t given me the wrong ingredients.”

Keep reading

moonwasours  asked:

hi alice! you seem really sweet and i like your drabbles! i have a prompt for you if you have time. i noticed you reblogged the december fanfic challenge, so how about Sterek + Secret Santa Gift Exchange.

Lies, I am wicked and cruel (enter into evidence: how fucking late this is). All the same, this is for you and your beautiful misconceptions about my character! I hope you like the side pairings I went with, whoops. MERRY CHRISTMAS.

Stiles loves Christmas time. He loves the familiar music, the neighborly cheer, the animated specials on T.V. and all the delicious treats that appear everywhere. On the other hand, presents. He can’t even count how many times he’s been surprised by a gift from an acquaintance that he absolutely had not anticipated or been able to reciprocate. Awkward. Generally, the only people he buys anything for are his dad (one new release action movie DVD, one bottle of nice whiskey, kindly purchased by one of the of-age deputies) and Scott (varies; Stiles once $25 gift card for Chipotle, though, and he still looked like he’d unwrapped a Faberge egg.)

But now there’s the pack, a whole lot of people to consider after spending most of his life caring about exactly three. It’s giving him serious anxiety, especially when Derek mentions that Cora’s visiting for the holidays about five minutes after Scott excitedly informs them that Isaac’s coming back. With the honorary inclusion of Parrish and Braeden, that’s like, ten people he needs to buy for!

Which is all to say that he’d been pretty relieved when the group decided that they’d do a Secret Santa this year; Lydia had offered to organize, and to host a Christmas Eve party at the lake house where everyone could exchange gifts. So, here they are in her living room, eating cookies and picking their giftees.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Still taking prompts? Love your fics :)... Another detective starts coming to see Molly regularly as his go-to pathologist. I wonder if anyone might be jealous of that? ;)

Also for the anon who requested Jealous!Sherlock. So sorry for the delay in filling this prompt! My inbox has been a bit stuffed lately.

“Molly!” Sherlock barked as he swooped inside the morgue. “I need that body, believe the name’s Tara Jen—” He stuttered to a halt at the sight that befell him. To anyone else, it would have seemed perfectly innocent. Just Molly helping out another detective. To Sherlock Holmes however, it was akin to a subtle declaration of war. He cleared his throat and stepped forward, tapping Molly on the shoulder. She smiled briefly at him.

“Just a minute, Sherlock. Wait outside, won’t you?”

Sherlock frowned and looked to the man opposite him. He was tall, muscular in build with short cropped hair. Former military then.

“Who are you?” he asked shortly, tucking his hands behind his back.

“Oh!” the man said brightly. He moved around the table towards Sherlock, sticking out his hand. “Name’s Barker. You’re Sherlock Holmes, aren’t you? Big fan, big fan.”

For a long moment, Sherlock stared at the man who had so brusquely and clumsily invaded his morgue. He didn’t take his hand. Barker chuckled nervously and let it drop back to his side.

“I was just getting some help from Molly, with my latest case. Very efficient—much more than some of the others around here!” he said with another banal chuckle.

Sherlock departed without another word.

Keep reading

The Asking and Taking Out of Molly Hooper

“I knew it! It was you two snogging in the background!”


Jacket straighten. Confident hair ruffle. Heart racing. Insides churning…perhaps Sherlock hadn’t steeled himself as well as he’d first thought.

“Molly, I…um,” he shook his head, trying to rid the image of her big brown eyes staring at him in confusion, “dinner and err…coffee? Would you, err…would-” another hair ruffle and a deep breath later, Sherlock ran his hands over his face and dropped into his chair, “a date? If you…if, um…argh, why is it so hard, you’re not even here.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Sherlolly prompt- Molly and Sherlock's son deducts Molly's pregnant before she had a chance to tell Sherlock and the son. (if that makes any sense)

Love this prompt. This was like the best excuse to write my Sherlolly babies. I’ve had headcanons of the Holmes-Hooper clan for a while, and never gotten to write parent-lock. So Thank You!!

You said son, so this is focused on Edison, but I had to put Ariana in because of reasons and headcanons, hope that’s okay. Enjoy.


A Pretty, Strange, Scientist.


Edison Holmes had his best concentration face on. His brow scrunched together and eyes piercing in their gaze towards his mother. Molly Hooper was used to that look, seeing as the family of four she belonged to had three fast paced, inquisitive minds.


Edi had never much taken after his father, apart from that look; much like his sister they had ‘borrowed Daddy’s deducing face’. He always found it harder to deduce than his sister, but the small age gap had aided that divide. Ariana was at school today, already somewhat fast tracked at the age of six. Edi was at home, still in the half days of reception class.


“Can we name it after a scientist like me?” His face had dropped the slight confusion, and now, like most days Edison had began the task of setting up his well loved ‘Thomas the Tank Engine’ train set, across 221b’s floor. He couldn’t let his Daddy down, even with his curiosity of his Mummy’s news bubbling over, every night the tracks are disassembled, and (case dependent) every afternoon Edison and Sherlock Holmes will create a new and exciting route for Edi’s many trains, when Daddy wasn’t home yet, it was the three year olds job to start on the adventure. 


“What’s that sweetheart?” Molly had been in the kitchen, her ritual up so far undisturbed by Edison’s stony faced concentration aimed in her direction, tonight’s dinner had to be in the oven so when she picks up Ari from school, Sherlock permitting, the family can each straight away, seeing as Ari’s clubs always ran late. 


“Well, Ariana’s name is strange like Daddy’s.”


“Yes, I suppose. But not in a bad way I should hope.”


“Oh no.” He shook his head adamantly, which Molly couldn’t help but find the most adorable and hilarious endeavor. “Ari, has the prettiest name in all the world. Like you Mummy, but it’s strange too, like Daddy.”


“What’s this all about Edi?” Molly did now halt her chopping, the peppers neatly sliced on the chopping board, she knelt down a little to face the little boy, he was still enraptured by the wooden tracks that sat in front of his, his still somewhat pudgy hands connecting one to another, but the advantages to having such clever parents and such a fantastic brain meant talking and doing were not a problem. 


“Well, you have to name it something. My name is normaler than Daddy’s and Ari’s like yours, but I’m named after a scientist. Maybe the new baby could have a special name that’s a scientist’s and strange, or pretty, or both.” He hadn’t looked at Molly much when he was talking, enough though to notice the shock that coloured Molly’s expression.


“New baby?”


“Oh, yes. Has Daddy not told you yet? Or does Daddy not know? Shall I tell him and Ariana. They’ll be proud I deduced it all on my own.” Edison had noticed how his Mummy had started to look more cuddly, how she looked pale in the morning as if she had tummy-ache, and when she seemed to cry more than necessary at Ariana’s princess films. Ari and Daddy had told him what Mummy was like when he was in her belly and the clues all fitted. Molly beamed at her clever little man, he was his father’s son as much as he was his mother’s. Gaining her strong heart from a young age, always in want of a cuddle, always aware of his parents feelings, but oh so very clever. 


Of course he had been around Molly more, seeing her and studying her more than Sherlock or Ariana had the chance to. Still it was her body and she had only figured it out two days ago. She was going to tell Sherlock tonight (having not seen him since she’d discovered it herself), news of a new little bundle of trouble, and then when the coast was a little more clear break the news to the children of their new partner in crime. Looks like Edi’s beat me to it.


“Only I knew sweetie. Daddy was away when I found out. They will be so proud of you, I’m so proud of you. Shall we tell them together? After tea.” Her emotions already a little wild from the extra hormones rushing through her bloodstream, Molly had to actively prevent the happy tears that would have easily accompanied her proud smile. Edi got up to go give his Mum a cuddle, squeezing her until he knew that she wouldn’t cry anymore, giving her a loud kiss on the cheek.


“Yes please. Thank you Mummy.” He turned back to his trains, waiting for Sherlock and Ariana to get home, the quicker the better; he had important things to tell them. 




Edi wriggled his way through dinner. Although excited about the news, Molly was aware of a need to maintain routine and order in what was once such a disorderly household, (that still on face value appeared to be such). 


When Sherlock dropped himself down on the sofa, case solved, ready for his marathon sleep, he felt a gentle pudding at his arm. Edison had dragged his sister into the sitting room, his mother in tow and was now attempting to garner his father’s attention. Easily done it seemed as Sherlock smiled, opening his eyes from his elongated blink. And ready to address whatever pressing matter seemed to be at hand, secretly hoping it had something to do with Thomas and the other engines. 


In the sweetest fashion, although not what he was aiming for, Edi cleared his throat to begin his little speech, not allowing his Molly a word in edge ways he began. “I have some very important news for everyone. I deduced something all on my own today, Mummy is going to have a baby,” considering it being the focal point of the news Edi skimmed over that part quickly, prompting a stifled giggle from his mum, “and I am going to call it something that is pretty like Araina, strange like Daddy, and a scientist like Mummy. I looked in one of my books and I think Marie.” 


Molly was about to argue that the name was quite normal, but was swooped up into her husband’s arms, a kiss that was interspersed by giddy smiles occupying her lips, Sherlock hands splayed across the soft and soon to be growing curve of her stomach. Each kiss was punctuated by happy revelations and need of conformation. To his ‘really?’ Molly could only nod enthusiastically.


Ariana and Little Edison Holmes, turned up their noses, at the sight before them, in a way that resembled their father to a tee. “Daddy, Mummy. Stop it.” 

P.S. if this is in need of a Read More somewhere, just say and I’ll pop it in :)

+sherlolly because...everything hurts and still does.

I had planned to write this Sherlolly fic to cheer myself up. And it was such a fun, promising premise when I began. However, it turned out a lot more depressing than I had imagined. But well, it’s not far from the truth, is it? For any additional heartache caused, I really am sorry. 

:: This one-shot is spoilery and heavily references The Sign of Three. Scroll past to avoid spoilers. ::






It was getting boring.

John was taking forever in the toilet. 

Will this bloody…table stop…rocking… thought Sherlock to himself. The world seemed to be swirling around him and the loud music was starting to turn into muffled thumps and strange, mechanical sounds. 

Keep reading