none of the cabs would take me

Experiment #5 - Request

Requested by the sinners and anons:  -For your experiment series, what if one of the experiments is that sherlock doesn’t think that people can “get off” by dry humping and so he makes the reader rude his thigh! 
-I have a suggestion for the next experiment- sherlock x reader. Its where sherlock points out that he’s not just using the reader’s body… And their relationship gets a label. (Still not getting the label, though)

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Word count: 1779

Warnings: Smut - dry humping, implied toy play -

A/N: I feel like we’re getting closer to an end so… Yeah, I was planning to mix two requests in here but figured it woudl last longer if I didn’t. Such a tease…


Originally posted by xthismeanswar

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

“What are we?”

He was finally asking that question, and it wasn’t because he wanted to but because he had to.

“(Y/N), what are we?” He insisted.

“I don’t know… Colleagues, I suppose.” (Y/N) whispered. She turned her gaze away, unable to think straight for as long as her eyes and Sherlock’s were locked together. “This was supposed to be only an experiment, and that was it.”

Keep reading

[Meeting The Brother] The Doctor x Reader

Prompt: @heaven-bound-angelrequested: Hey any chance of a crossover? Reader is Sherlock’s beastie and John’s kid sister, but they start to get worried cause she keeps going missing. Turns out she’s been traveling with the Doctor (nine if ya can, if not ten or eleven lol) & Sherlock does the whole deduce thing and it turns out that her & the Doctor really do love each other which has John going all protective over her & she explains how the Doctor saved her & how they need each other.. fluff. If not that’s okay keep up the good work.

Word Count: 957

Warnings: none

Sorry that I posted this so late! School just dropped a bunch of work on me. Hope you like it! <3

Baker Street was quiet.

It was one of the rare days where there were no clients, no cases from the Yard, or national security threats from Mycroft. You were sitting in John’s chair in front of the fireplace, with a cup of tea, and nose deep into a book. Your brother was on his laptop typing the latest case solved by a certain raven haired consulting detective.

Both of your heads snapped towards the door when it flung open, revealing Sherlock in bloody clothes and holding a bloody harpoon. John’s eyes widened, but you just sipped at your tea, much more accustomed to this than John, and sighed at the loss of the quiet, peaceful ambience.

“Well that was tedious.” Sherlock scoffed.

“You went on the tube like that?” John said, looking at him incredulously.

“None of the cabs would take me.” Sherlock scowled, annoyed.

He strode towards the bathroom and shut the door behind him. John looked over at you, and you shrugged, expecting this kind of behaviour from Sherlock. You sunk back into the chair, when you heard your phone go off, and smile at the caller ID. You answered the phone, while putting on your jacket, and telling them you’ll be right out.

“Where you going?” John asked.

“Out, don’t wait up for me.” You said shutting the flat door.
John rolled his eyes.

Kids these days.


Sherlock had gone absolutely nuts.

Or at least that’s what John thinks. A client came in from Dartmoor claiming that some sort of mutant hellhound that killed his father had been terrorising him now. John and Sherlock agreed to go and investigate more at Dartmoor. Fastforward, Sherlock and Henry search the hollows and Sherlock, clearly, visibly shaken up, started stating that he had in fact seen the hound too! John had told you to stay back in the flat, but with a hysterical Sherlock, he was going to need your help.

That’s when you asked a friend for a ride.

You arrived at Dartmoor quickly, and called John to pick you up. When he arrived, he seemed confused.

“How’d you get here so quickly?”

“Oh, I, uh, had Mycroft give me a lift.” You said awkwardly. 

John seemed satisfied with your answer and told you everything that had happened. He told you Sherlock was currently at Henry’s house, and told you to talk to him, since he didn’t want to see at the moment, and neither could he get through to him.

When Sherlock saw you walk in, he cheered, “(Y/N)!” and continued to rummage through Henry’s cupboards.

“John said you’ve finally snapped.”

“John’s being over dramatic, it’s what he does,” he rolled his eyes, “which is why, you are the better Watson here.” He smiled and took a bit of sugar from Henry’s kitchen and decided to head outside.

You had gotten Sherlock to apologize to John, in his own Sherlock way, and you three had bumped into Lestrade at a pub. When John had gotten a lead on the mysterious hound, you decided to slip away and call a friend.

Sherlock casted a worried glance when you walked away, but ultimately decided you would be fine on your own.


When you arrived back at Baker Street, you were met with a very, very unhappy John.

“Where’d you go this time?” He asked exasperated.

“I told you, I’m just goin-”

“Yes, you’re going ‘out’.” He could feel his hair turning grey. ”Where are you going, I mean it (Y/N).”

“Oh for God’s sake! I’m not doing drugs if that’s what you’re worried about!” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

“Is this a phase or something?” He asked, genuinely concerned.

“I’m 25!” You gaped at how unreasonable he was being. “I DON’T GO THROUGH PHASES AT THIS AGE!”

Sherlock had been silent the entire time, when he heard soft footsteps.

“Would this be a bad time?” A voice said, with a Northern accent.

You looked over and saw the Doctor leaning on the doorway.

“Who the bloody hell are you?!” John was even more irritated now, “And how did you get in our flat?”

“I’m friend of (Y/N), John Smith, you must be her brother, I’ve heard alot about you.” He said casually, and took John’s hand and shook it.

You walked over to the Doctor and smacked him in the chest.

“You show up at the worst times.”

“I’ll have you know my timing is impeccable.”

By now Sherlock was staring at the Doctor, you knew he was trying to deduce him.

“Why is that guy looking at me like that?”

“So how long have you been together?” Sherlock said suddenly.

“What?” John gaped.

“Oh come on John, it’s right there,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and rolled his eyes seeing as John still did not get it, “he’s clearly the ‘mysterious’ person she’s been disappearing off with, they clearly are incredibly close seeing as she gave him a key to the flat, they’re standing very close to each other, even though there’s more than enough free space around, that and the fact his arm is around her waist.”

That’s when you realized the Doctor had put his arm around your waist, and was hold you rather closely.

Seeing as John was close to exploding, you quickly started to explain how you met the Doctor and how he saved you from some really bad people that you had gotten mixed up with. John’s glare had softened, and turned into his usual concerned one.

“You, be careful, I don’t want you to get hurt,” you rolled your eyes and mouthed a “I’m 25” at him, and he turned to the Doctor, “You, hurt her, and I will hunt you down, I’ll make sure that you don’t have a future.” The Doctor, trying not to laugh at the sight of the 5 ft man try to intimidate him, nodded enthusiastically.

“Alright, anything else you’re hiding? Have a secret tattoo too?”

“Well actually, he’s an alie—” You started, but John was already going down the stairs, mumbling a “goddamned kids”, and headed out.

You turned to Sherlock.

“That went well, yeah?”

The advertisement

Title: The advertisement

Anonymous asked: “Sherlock x reader. Someone finds a picture of sherlocks wife in the paper. Saying how’d he like to fuck. Sherlock gets very protective and it shows later on that night when he comes home to his beautiful, sexy wife”

Characters: sherlock and you

Pairing: sherlock x reader

Warnings: fighting, mentions about sex

Word count: 383

A/N: I was going to add the “none of the cabs would take me” gif but couldn’t find it, sorry! ________________________________________________________________________________________

“that’s what I’m talking about, I bet she would look wonderful in my bedroom” the man standing next to Sherlock said to his friend. “like you could get her, she’s way to smart for you. Look” his friend said, pointing at the advertisement. In bold capital letters it said: “Local girl helps out police on case they couldn’t solve”. “that’s nothing, the police are incredibly stupid” the first man said. “they are” the men heard. “who are you?” one of the men said, irritated his conversation had been interrupted. “the name’s Sherlock Holmes” he said. “and the woman you are talking about happens to be my wife” he revealed. “sure pal. Why don’t you wake up. A woman like that would never be with you” the man said. “she needs a real man, someone that reminds her of her place: the kitchen” he laughed. Without hesitation Sherlock launched forward and hit the guy in his face. Quickly the other guy kicked Sherlock, making him hit the ground. “let’s go” the guy, who was now bleeding from his nose said to the other.

“I’m back” you heard, as Sherlock entered Baker Street. “great, I’ve got to show you…What happened to you?” you asked, seeing his bloody face. “it’s nothing” he said, waving it away. “like hell it is. Sit down, I’ll get the first aid kit” you said, leaving the room. A couple of minutes later you came back from the bathroom, carrying a small red box. “now you tell me what happened while I patch you up” you said, dabbing the blood away. “and that’s the story” Sherlock said after he explained what had happened to him. “did none of the cab drivers offer you any help?” you asked once you were finished by applying everything. “none of the cabs would take me” he murmured. “well I think you are sweet Sherlock Holmes” you said, putting your arms around his neck and sitting in his lap. “you really think so? Sweet? Don’t you mean incredibly handsome?” he smirked, kissing you. “hmm, how about I’ll show you how handsome the two of us can be together” you said, pulling your shirt over your head and throwing it to the floor. “gladly” he said, lifting you up and carrying you to your bedroom.

Originally posted by sherlockspeare


Street racers!AU

warnings: still mafia related, hints for the next chapter, this is a stand alone story but it will confuse you for a bit if you haven’t read the other series, more delays, secrets and betrayals in so deep, some fluff to compensate. 

You raced the car beside yours, taking a strong left drift before repositioning the vehicle. Kicking on the clutch to shift your gear to a four, you accelerated the car as it neared the finishing line. However, the one beside you got ahead and took over. The crowd cheered as your opponent hit the finish line and the girl swung the flag round.

The male got out of his car before you did and strolled towards you slowly until you heard the sound of sirens. Instantly, he grabbed your wrist and dragged you behind a building. Seonho trapped your body between his own and the wall. He glanced back and forth at the policemen huddled on the road.

When you heard footsteps approaching, Seonho panicked so you held his hand instead and jumped into the water. This caught the attention of the officers; however, they couldn’t see your bodies for you were deep underwater.

You pulled the older male with you as you got out of the water, you placed your finger on his lips as he was about to speak. The both of you succeeded in escaping, but you still had to keep moving.

Not later did you find a telephone booth, thus Seonho made his call lucky enough that his cash clung to his pockets. You wrapped your arms around your body, shivering at the cool breeze. Seonho saw this and wished for his friends would pick up the phone; however, they didn’t.

Keep reading

Hello Detective Chapter 34

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 Part 61

The next few days had began like any other, until you got sick. It started just with vomiting in the mornings and then into the day it progressed into a nice cold. You thought it might have been food poisoning, but it seemed more persistent than that. It seemed to be a bad cold mixed with a stomach bug.

You called in sick for work and Lestrade told you to stay home until you were symptom free, he couldn’t risk you getting anyone else sick at work.

You needed to go to a doctor, but you didn’t have a set one here, you had only lived here for about a year, and it had been a very busy year. You called John instead and told him what was happening. He told you he thought it was a cold too, but if you came over to the flat he could check you out and possibly give you some medication.

You did just that, you walked around the corner to Baker Street, wrapping your coat tightly around you as you walked.

John looked at you, and confirmed you had a cold and possibly also 24 hour stomach bug that should subside soon. You were sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket while John made you some tea. You probably looked terrible, you hadn’t slept well, and you were just sick. Suddenly the door flew open and the sight in front of you almost made you scream.

Sherlock was standing in the doorway with his white sleeves rolled up, his face and shirt covered in blood, and holding a harpoon.

“Well, that was tedious.” He said, casually.

“You went on the tube like that?” John asked him after handing you your tea.

“None of the cabs would take me.” Sherlock said, now turning to you. “You’re sick.”

“Obviously.” You shot back.

“Are you alright? Do you need anything? Lay down, rest. We’ll take care of you.” Sherlock said quickly, rushing to you.

“Okay mother, calm down.” You smiled. Sherlock left to take a quick shower and change his clothes. He came back out into the living room in his dress pants and white shirt, with his blue dressing robe on, still holding his harpoon. He began pacing in front of the couch, just watching him was making you tired.

“Anything?” Sherlock asked John, referring to the paper he was reading.

“Military coup in Uganda. Another photo of you in the er…” John began and pointed to a picture of Sherlock in his favorite deer stalker.

“Ugh!” Sherlock sighed while still pacing.

“Well, um, Cabinet reshuffle.”John read.

“Nothing of importance? Oh, God!” Sherlock yelled, banging his harpoon on the floor. It made you jump slightly.

“John, I need some. Get me some.” Sherlock said and you scoffed.

“No.” John said.

“Get me some.” Sherlock now turning back to face you.

“Absolutely not.” You said, laying down on the couch.

“Cold turkey we agreed, no matter what,”  John said, pointing his finger at Sherlock. “Anyway, you’ve paid everyone off, remember? No-one within a two-mile radius will sell you any.”

“Stupid idea. Whose idea was that?” Sherlock asked. John only cleared his throat and didn’t answer.

“Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock yelled. He turned to his desk and began throwing papers everywhere. He was rummaging through every drawer looking for cigarettes.

“Look, Sherlock, you’re doing really well, don’t give up now!” John said to Sherlock, who was still turning the living room upside down.

“Tell me where they are! Please, tell me.” Sherlock said. His tone changed to almost a puppy dog look “Please.”

“Can’t help, sorry.” John said, looking to you and rolling his eyes.

“I’ll let you know next week’s lottery numbers.” Sherlock said, to which John only laughed, “It was worth a try.”

“You know where the are don’t you, Y/N?” Sherlock turned to you.

“Of course I know where they are, that doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you.” You said, nuzzling deeper into the couch. Sherlock began eyeing the couch cushions under you, thinking the cigarettes were hiding under there. He took a step closer to you and began to bend down to look.

“Don’t even think about it. They’re not under there and I’m not moving just so you can check.” You scolded.

Sherlock groaned and jumped across the room to the fire place. He shook a shoe and threw it behind him when he found it to be empty.

“Yoo-hoo.” Mrs. Hudson said, walking into the room.

“My secret supply, what have you done with my secret supply?” Sherlock asked, making a mess.

“Eh?” She asked confused.

“Cigarettes, what have you done with them?” Sherlock asked.

“You know you never let me touch your things! Oh, chance would be a fine thing. Oh hello dear, are you alright?” Mrs.Hudson said, turning to you.

“She’s sick, we’re keeping an eye on her, well I am, Sherlock is…” John said, gesturing to Sherlock.

“I thought you weren’t my housekeeper.” Sherlock retorted to Mrs. Hudson.

“I’m not.” She replied with sass.

“Argh!” Sherlock yelled, leaving the fire place and returning back to his harpoon. You saw John make a ‘drink’ motion to Mrs. Hudson.

“How about a nice cuppa and perhaps you could put away your harpoon?” Mrs. Hudson told him.

“I need something stronger than tea. Seven percent stronger.” Sherlock said, making you worry. Last time he was bored without a case you had found him shooting a wall after he had gotten done shooting up.

“Sherlock…” You said.

“You’ve been to see Mr. Chatterjee again.” Sherlock said, now pointing his harpoon to Mrs. Hudson.

“Pardon?” Mrs. Hudson asked.

“Sandwich shop. That’s a new dress, but there’s flour on the sleeve. You wouldn’t dress like that for baking. Thumbnail. Tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch cards again. We all know where that leads don’t we. Mmm. Casbah Nights. Pretty racy for a Monday morning, wouldn’t you agree? I’ve written a little blog on the identification of perfumes.” Sherlock began rambling.

“I’m sure there’s a crying need for that.” You muttered, Sherlock gave you a dirty look before continuing.

“It’s on the website. You should look it up. I wouldn’t pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr. Chatterjee, he’s got a wife in Doncaster, that nobody knows about.” Sherlock said.

“Sherlock!” John yelled.

“Well, nobody except me.” Sherlock said, was he having a psychotic break?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I really don’t!” Mrs. Hudson said, storming out of the room, slamming the door. Sherlock leapt into his chair, hugging his knees to his chest.

“What the bloody hell was all that about?” John asked.

“You don’t understand.” Sherlock said rocking slightly.

“Go after her and apologise.” John instructed.

“Apologise?” Sherlock said the word as if he had never heard it before.

“Mhm.” John nodded.

“Oh, John, I envy you so much.” Sherlock said.

“You envy me?” John asked in disbelief.

“Your mind, it’s so placid, straight-forward, barely used. Mine’s like an engine, racing out of control. A rocket, tearing itself to pieces, trapped on the launch pad. I need a case!” Sherlock yelled.

“You’ve just solved one, by harpooning a dead pig, apparently!” John yelled back.

“Ahh! That was this morning. When’s the next one? Y/N, does Gavin have a case?” He asked, both men turning to face you. They hadn’t realized you had fallen asleep. You hadn’t realized that John had mixed some medicine into your tea and it must have made you extra drowsy.

“Nothing on the website?” John whispered. Sherlock grabbed his laptop from his desk and handed it to John.

“Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I can’t find Bluebell anywhere. Please, please, please can you help?” Sherlock dictated.

“Bluebell?” John asked confused.

“A rabbit, John!” Sherlock yelled, which surprisingly didn’t wake you.

“Ah, but there’s more. Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous. ‘Like a fairy’ according to little Kirsty. Then the next morning, Bluebell was gone. Hutch still locked, no sign of a forced entry. What am I saying, this is brilliant. Phone Lestrade, tell him there’s an escaped rabbit.” Sherlock said, seriously.

“Are you serious?” John asked.

“It’s this, or Cluedo.” Sherlock said.

“Ah, no. We are never playing that again.” John said, removing the computer from his lap.

“Why not?” Sherlock asked, in all seriousness.

“Because it’s not actually possible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock, that’s why.” John said.

“It was the only possible solution.” Sherlock argued.

“It’s not in the rules.” John said.

“Well, then, the rules are wrong!” Sherlock yelled.

“Shh! You’re going to wake her up.” John whisper yelled, pointing to you.

“Fine, I’ll just move her then.” Sherlock said, moving to pick you up. He carried you into his bedroom and placed you under the covers. When he was leaving his room he heard the doorbell ring.

“Single ring.” John pointed out.

“Maximum pressure, just under the half second. Client!” Sherlock said.

While you slept, a client was brought into the living room. He showed Sherlock and John a documentary on the television about Dartmoor. Dartmoor was home to the military testing site Baskerville, which is rumored to be doing animal testing and genetic mutations. The client, Henry Knight, was in the documentary. He claims that a genetically mutated beast killed his father. Sherlock abruptly turned off the television and asked Henry what he saw. He argued that he was just about to say it on the documentary. To that Sherlock responded that he liked to do his own editing.

“Do you know Dartmoor, Mr. Holmes?” Henry asked him.

“No.” He answered.

“It’s an amazing place, it’s like nowhere else, it’s sort of bleak, but beautiful.” Henry began.

“Hm, not interested. Moving on.” Sherlock said rudely.

“We used to go for walks, after my mum died, my dad and me. Every evening, we’d go out onto the moor.” Henry began before Sherlock cut him off again.

“Yes, good. Skipping to the night that your dad was violently killed, where did that happen?” Sherlock asked insensitively.

“There’s a place, it’s a sort of local landmark, called Dewer’s Hollow. That’s an ancient name for the devil.” Henry said.

“So?” Sherlock said, unaffected.

“Did you see the devil that night?” John asked.

“Yes. It was huge, coal-black fur with red eyes. It got him. Tore at him, tore him apart. I can’t remember anything else. They found me the next morning, just wandering on the moor. My day’s body was never found.” Henry Knight said.

“Red eyes, coal-black fur, enormous… dog? Wolf?” John asked.

“Or a genetic experiment.” Sherlock smiled.

“Are you laughing at me, Mr. Holmes?” Henry asked.

“Why, are you joking?” Sherlock returned.

“My dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville. About the type of monsters they were breeding there. People used to laugh at him. At least the TV people took me seriously.” Henry said.

“And I assumed did wonders for Devon tourism.” Sherlock said.

“Yeah… Henry, whatever did happen to your father, it was 20 years ago. Why come to us now?” John asked Henry.

“I’m not sure you can help me, Mr. Holmes, since you find it all so funny!” Henry scolded, standing to leave.

“Because of what happened last night.” Sherlock said, answering John’s question to Henry, causing him to stop in the doorway.

“Why, what happened last night?” John asked.

“How… How do you know?” Henry asked.

“I didn’t know, I noticed. You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning. You had a disappointing breakfast and a black coffee. The girl across the aisle fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you’ve now changed your mind. You are however extremely anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Mr. Knight, and do please smoke. I’d be delighted.” Sherlock said. Henry moved and sat back in John’s chair.

“How on Earth did you notice all that?” Henry asked.

“It’s not important…” John attempted to save Sherlock from making his speech, but he seemed to go on and do it anyway.

“Punched out holes where you tickets been checked.” Sherlock began.

“Not now, Sherlock.” John tried.

“Oh, please. I’ve been cooped-up in here for ages!” Sherlock protested.

“You’re just showing off.” John said.

“Of course. I am a show-off, that’s what we do.” Sherlock argued. “Train napkin you used to mop up the spilled coffee. The stain shows that you didn’t take milk. There are traces of ketchup on it and on your lips and sleeve. Cooked breakfast, or the nearest thing those trains can manage. Probably a sandwich.”

“Ha. How did you know it was disappointing?” Henry asked nervously.

“Is there any other type of breakfast on a train? The girl. Female handwriting is quite distinctive, wrote her phone number down on the napkin. I can tell from the angle she wrote at that she sat across from you on the other side of the aisle. Later, after she got off, I imagine you used the napkin to mop up your spilled coffee, accidentally smudging the numbers. You’ve been over the last four digits yourself in another pen, so you wanted to keep the number. Just now though you used that napkin to blow your nose, maybe you’re not that into her after all. Then there’s the nicotine stains on your fingers. Your shaking fingers. I know the signs. No chance to smoke one on the train, no time to roll one before you got on a cab here. It’s just after 9:15, you’re desperate. The first train from Exeter to London leaves at 5:46 am. You got the first one possible so something important must have happened last night. Am I wrong?” Sherlock said.

“No. You’re right. You’re completely, exactly right. Bloody hell, I heard you were quick.” Henry said and Sherlock now had a smirk on his face.

“It’s my job. Now shut up and smoke.” Sherlock said, and Henry began to light his cigarette.

“Henry, your parents both died and you were what, seven years old?” John asked. Sherlock stood over Henry and inhaled his smoke before sitting back down. “That must be quite a trauma. Now, have you ever thought that maybe you invented this story, this… to account for it?”

“That’s what Dr. Mortimer says.” Henry said.

“Who?” John asked.

“His therapist. Obviously.” Sherlock said.

Suddenly your voice could be heard yelling from the bedroom.

“Sherlock Holmes if you are smoking I swear to God!” You yelled when you awoke to the smell of smoke. You opened the door and walked out into the living room wearing Sherlock’s blue dressing gown to see a man sitting in John’s chair smoking.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you had a client.” You said when you saw Henry Knight.

“You’re that detective from the paper, Gregson. I didn’t realize… Are you two?” Henry asked, gesturing between you and Sherlock.

“Yes, we are, now back to your therapist.” Sherlock said, he waved you over to sit on the arm of his chair. When you did, he placed an arm around you. You were feeling slightly better now with a little rest and drugs in your system.

“Louise Mortimer. She’s the reason I came back to Dartmoor. She thinks I have to face my demons.” Henry said.

“What happened when you went back to Dewer’s Hollow last night, Henry? You went there on the advice of your therapist and now you’re consulting a detective. What did you see that changed everything?” Sherlock asked.

“It’s a strange place, the Hollow. It makes you feel so cold inside, so afraid.” Henry began.

“Yes, if I wanted poetry, I’d read John’s emails to his girlfriends, much funnier. What did you see?” Sherlock said, you placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed him slightly, silently telling him he was being rude.

“Footprints. On the exact spot where I saw my father torn apart.” Henry said, Sherlock sat back completely in his chair. He took your hand from his shoulder and absentmindedly fiddled with it, clearly Henry was boring him.

“Man’s or woman’s?” John asked.

“Neither. They were…” Henry began before Sherlock cut him off.

“Is that it? Nothing else? Footprints, it that all?” Sherlock said rudely.

“Yes but they were…” Henry began.

“No, sorry, Dr. Mortimer wins. It’s a childhood trauma masked by an invented memory. Boring. Goodbye, Mr. Knight, thank you for smoking.” Sherlock said, you gave Sherlock’s hand a little squeeze.

“But… What about the footprints?” Henry asked.

“Oh, they’re probably paw prints, could be anything, therefore nothing. Off to Devon with you, have a cream tea on me.” Sherlock said, standing up and waving him off.

“Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound.” Henry said, Sherlock was walking into the kitchen and stopped in his tracks. He turned around slowly.

“Say that again.” Sherlock said.

“They were the footprints of a gigantic hound.” Henry said.

“I’ll take the case.” Sherlock said slowly.

“Sorry, what?” John asked.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, it’s very promising.” Sherlock said, folding his hands under his chin.

“No, no, no, sorry what? A minute ago, footprints were boring, now they’re very promising?” John asked, confused.

“It’s got nothing to do with footprints. As ever John you weren’t listening. Baskerville. Ever heard of it?” Sherlock asked, he turned to you for the last part.

“Um vaguely I guess. It’s very hush-hush.” You said, slipping down into Sherlock’s chair.

“Sounds like a good place to start.” Sherlock said.

“You’ll come down then?” Henry asked.

“No, I can’t leave London at the moment, far too busy. But don’t worry I’m putting my best man onto it. I can always rely on John to send me all the relevant data, as he never understands a word of it himself.” Sherlock said, and you were confused.

“What are you talking about ‘you’re busy’? You don’t have a case! A minute ago, you were complaining…” John began to scold.

“Bluebell, John. I’ve got Bluebell! The case of the vanishing glow-in-the-dark rabbit. NATO’s in uproar.” Sherlock said, making you even more confused.

“Oh, sorry, you’re not coming, then?” Henry said, and Sherlock shook his head, almost giving John a pouty face.

“Oh. Okay. Okay.” John said, standing and retrieving Sherlock’s cigarettes from underneath the skull on the mantle.

“John!” You scolded. John threw them to Sherlock, he caught them and threw them behind him.

“I don’t need those anymore, I’m going to Dartmoor. You go on ahead, Henry, we’ll follow later.” Sherlock said.

“I’m sorry, so you are coming?” Henry asked, about as confused as you.

“Twenty-year-old disappearance, a monstrous hound? I wouldn’t miss this for the world!” Sherlock said as he walked Henry Knight out.

When he came back he saw you sitting in his chair.

“I’m going to need your help of course.” Sherlock said.

“Sherlock…” You sighed, “I’m sick, you seriously want me tagging along?”

“Of course I do.” Sherlock said.

“Sherlock… I think I need to be in bed, I have zero energy, I’m not going to be much help.” You argued.

“Please Y/N! We’ll find and Inn to stay at, you can rest, you have your very own personal doctor, do whatever you’re up to, then I can have someone to talk to.” Sherlock said.

“You have John to talk to.” You retorted.

“You know it’s different.” Sherlock said.

“Ugh fine. But I hope I get you sick for making me do this.” you told Sherlock.

Like a bad rash, he came back

I picked up another closing shift tonight. 

It was so very boring.

Until the end that is. 

A few minutes before close, Mr. WE ARE NEVER COMING BACK from last night defied all reason and completely dashed my hopes that he fell into a ravine and came back.

He came with two very sleepy kids in tow, presumably to teach us a lesson. His wife looked as unhappy as the children.

He triumphantly marched up to the podium and exclaimed “We made it on time tonight, DIDN’T WE!? I checked the website first!”

Me: Congratulations, you can read.
Him: What did you just say to me?
Me: Congratulations, follow me.

So I take him to the first open booth and they pile in, the little girl starts crying because all she wants to do is go to bed and the little boy is struggling with everything. The wife, meanwhile, is shooting daggers out of her eyes that lead me to believe she was very very unhappy with this idiot’s idea of a Monday night excursion.

Him: You’re serving us tonight, right?
Me: Nope! Not a server. I’ll get you one.
Him: But I want you to be my server tonight after how you treated us last night! It’s the least you can do. We want a good time AND I KNOW YOU CAN GIVE US THAT! The customer is always right!
Me, doing my absolute best Church Lady impression: Well isn’t that special! I’ll get you a server.

And I told the server on that he had a table, and warned him that the guy was a complete sperm burping anal baby.

I came back out just in time to see the wife picking up two crying children and walking out the door. She stopped long enough to apologize to me for his behavior before she left. I nodded sympathetically.

Then I was cut.  Not being one to miss out on a show though I decided to change clothes (since our uniforms suck) and hang out up front. He was sitting in the booth - after telling the server to come back over once his wife came back with the kids - furiously calling and texting (I’m assuming the wife.)


Somewhere around 15 minutes after close I’d finished helping the server put up all the bar chairs and decided I was bored enough to leave.

Him: Hey come here a minute.
Me: Do you need your server?
Him: No. I need a ride home.
Me: You want me to call you a cab?
Him: Can you give me a ride?

I stared at him a moment, as my brain was unable to process what the actual hell this guy thought was going to happen after being such a shit nugget two nights in a row.

Him: Well?
Me, doing my absolute best Family Guy cleaning lady impression: Noooo….Nooo.
Him: Well I’m going to sit here until somebody volunteers to take me home, I’m not paying cab fare. I shouldn’t have to, if YOU HAD JUST LET US EAT HERE LAST NIGHT NONE OF THIS WOULD HAVE HAPPENED!
Me: Do you…uh…do you plan to order any food tonight?
Him: Well not any more!
Me: Then I have to ask you to leave. We’re closed.

He demanded a manager. 

Now I’m still getting used to the management here (or they’re getting used to me…) but this lady came from the office, confirmed that he had no intention to order anything, and told him the kitchen and restaurant were closed and he could either wait inside until his cab arrived or leave now - but nobody was driving him home so he needed to pick.

When I left he was out front, calling (presumably again his wife) to “cut the shit and just fucking pick him up.”

I hope she didn’t, and he had to walk.

There’s something about a clusterfuck too intense to be found in nature that I really enjoy. That’s why I’m really hoping for another Dashcon. Last year’s was deliciously awful. -J

Real Sherlock & Watson Quotes if spoken by Dyfty

from the show Sherlock (some are slighted altered)

Lofty: You don’t have a girlfriend then?
Dylan: Girlfriend? No, not really my area. 
Lofty: Alright… Do you have a boyfriend? Which is fine, by the way. 
Dylan: I know it’s fine.
Lofty: So you got a boyfriend?
Dylan: No. 
Lofty: Right. Okay. You’re unattached. Like me. Fine. Good. 
Dylan: Ben, erm… I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, and while I’m flattered by your interest, I’m really not looking for any… 
Lofty: No. I’m… not asking. No. I’m just saying, it’s all fine. 
Dylan: Good. Thank you. 

Lofty: [after Dylan smugly diagnoses a patient] That… was amazing.
Dylan: You think so?
Lofty: Of course it was. It was extraordinary. It was quite extraordinary.
Dylan: That’s not what people normally say.
Lofty: What do people normally say?
Dylan: “Piss off”. 

Dylan: You’re a nurse. In fact, you’re an E.D nurse.
Lofty: Yes.
Dylan: Any good?
Lofty: Very good.
Dylan: Seen a lot of injuries, then?… Violent deaths?
Lofty: Yes.
Dylan:  Bit of trouble, too, I bet.
Lofty: Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime… far too much.
Dylan: Want to see some more?
Lofty: Oh God, yes. 

Lofty: It’s how you get your kicks, isn’t it? Treating complicated patients to prove you’re clever.
Dylan: Why would I do that?
Lofty: Because you’re an idiot.
Dylan: Dinner?
Lofty: Starving.

Dylan: Listen, what I said before, Ben, I meant it. I don’t have friends. I’ve just got one.
Lofty: Right.

Lofty: [after Dylan smugly diagnoses a patient] It’s fantastic!
Dylan: Do you know you do that out loud?
Lofty: Sorry, I’ll shut up.
Dylan: No, it’s… fine. 

Dylan: You took your time.
Lofty: Yeah I didn’t get the shopping.
Dylan: What? Why not?
Lofty: Because I had a row in the shop with a chip and PIN machine.
Dylan: You had a row with a machine?
Lofty: Sort of. It sat there and I shouted abuse.

Lofty: Anytime you want to include me… “No, I’m Dylan. I always work alone because no one else can compete with my massive intellect!”

Dylan: I need to get some air. We’re going out tonight.
Lofty: Actually I’ve got a date.
Dylan: What?
Lofty: It’s where two people who like each other go out and have fun.
Dylan: That’s what I was suggesting.
Lofty: No it wasn’t. At least I hope not.

Lofty: Is that a head?
Dylan: Just tea for me, thanks.
Lofty: No, there’s a head in the fridge.
Dylan: Yes.
Lofty: A bloody head!
Dylan: Well where else was I supposed to put it? You don’t mind do you? Got it from the morgue. I’m measuring the coagulation of saliva after death.

Lofty: Don’t do that.
Dylan: Do what?
Lofty: The Look.
Dylan: The Look?
Lofty: You’re doing The Look again.
Dylan: I can’t see it, can I? {he looks in the mirror} It’s my face?
Lofty: Yes, and it’s doing a thing. You’re doing a “We both know what’s really going on here” face.
Dylan: Well we do.
Lofty: No. I don’t. Which is why I find The Face so annoying.

Dylan: Are you coming?
Lofty: If you want me to.
Dylan: Of course. I’d be lost without my nurse.

Lofty: There are lives at stake, Dylan! Actual human lives. Just so I know, do you care about that at all?
Dylan: Will caring about them help save them?
Lofty: Nope.
Dylan: Then I’ll continue not to make that mistake.
Lofty: You find that easy do you?
Dylan: Yes. Very. Is that news to you?
Lofty: No. No.
Dylan: I’ve disappointed you.
Lofty: That’s a good— good deduction. Yeah.
Dylan: Don’t make people into heroes Ben. Heroes don’t exist and if they did I wouldn’t be one of them.

Dylan: No! No no! Of course he’s not the boy’s father! Look at the turn-ups on his jeans.
Lofty: Knew it was dangerous.
Dylan: Hm?
Lofty: Getting you into crap telly.

Dylan [covered in blood]: Well that was tedious.
Lofty: You went on the bus like that?
Dylan: None of the cabs would take me. 

Lofty: Can we not do this this time?
Dylan: Do what?
Lofty: You being all mysterious with your cheekbones and putting your hands on your hips so you look cool.
Dylan: I don’t do that.
Lofty: Yeah, you do.

Dark to Light Chapter 3/3

This is a Dark Felicity fic written for the ever lovely and amazing Helen @oliverfel4 for her birthday! This is the final chapter, thank you so much for all your kind words and reblogs! I so hope you enjoy the ending.

I would like to thank @captainolicitysbedroom for the amazing artwork and for all the support and letting me know where I need more details.

All mistakes are mine. One final note, Felicity is very dark in this fic and does not value her own life. Just wanted to make note of this in case this is something you want to avoid.

This can also be read on AO3:

                                  Chapter 3: Rolling in the Deep

Malcolm and Thea took a cab to meet Felicity.

What Malcolm did not know was Thea also texted Oliver the information. Malcolm may have promised not to include Oliver but Thea had not.

The cab stopped at an abandoned building “You sure this is the place? It’s a pretty shady area.”

“Sadly, yes,” Thea said smiling at him and giving him a big tip.

As Malcolm and Thea stepped out of the cab they saw Felicity and she looked none to happy to see Thea.

Keep reading

Sherlock x reader

Not much flirting, but I tried at least. If you see any typos, please tell me.

Warnings: none

Wordcount: 474

Request: sherlock x reader where he takes her to a crime scene and lestrade flirts with her please

You’re in a cab on your way to a crime scene, Sherlock had texted you the address and asked you to come. So you had dragged yourself of your couch, gotten dressed and hailed a cab as quick as you could. You doubted that it was anything that needed to be done fast, since then he would have done it himself. The cab stops and you exit it, and pay the driver. The police man standing by the police tape stops you and asks who you are. Before you can say anything, John appears in the doorway of the building. “It’s okay, she’s with us.” He says. The policeman grumbles something under his breath, but let you go past him.

Keep reading