old morgue

uberwekkness  asked:

Hi! I was wondering if all of Olaf's fake names in the series refer to the fact that he's in disguise. Captain Sham is obvious, "Shirley you can't be serious" is an old joke, and Coach Genghis seems like it would be finished as Genghis Khan (Con.) Detective Dupin would presumably be "dupe," but then I couldn't figure out if Stephano, Mattathias, and Gunther had any joke like that tied in.


Stephano is an allusion to Shakespeare’s “The Tempest” (because the Prospero appears in the same book). Gunther is a stereotypically German name Olaf uses because he’s playing a foreigner. Genghis Khan was a Mongol, which is supposed to show how sloppy the disguise is because Olaf is clearly impersonating a Sikh and Mongolia has almost nothing to do with Sikhism. Dupin is an allusion to Detective Dupin from Poe’s “Double Murder in the Rue Morgue”, the first crime novel. Sham and Shirley are indeed puns on the topic of sincerity. Handler does that again later with Frank and Ernest (Frank and Earnest). Mattathias is an allusion to the biblical character, a high priest of Judaism mentioned in the Old Testament. Because Mattathias is never seen and obeyed without question, the religious subtext is quite astute.

I don’t think there’s a common theme to Olaf’s aliases, Handler just seems to pick what he likes depending on the occasion.

Connection Twenty Six

Originally posted by fireshinigami

Originally posted by merindab

Connection.  Read Chap One here. Two. Three Four.  Five. Six. Seven. Eight.  Nine.  Ten.  Eleven.  Twelve.  Thirteen.  Fourteen.  Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.  Eighteen.  Nineteen.  Twenty.   Twenty One.   Twenty Two.   Twenty Three.   Twenty Four.   Twenty Five.

Sherlock x reader

Summary: an American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.

Word Count: 3243

**Possible spoilers for Series Four: The Final Problem**

Your name: submit What is this?

Moran was good. Even in the urban area, he had military training that helped him disappear and stay hidden. And with Moriarty’s network funds, who knew what kind of money he had for resources. After two weeks of work, it didn’t seem possible to track him with any reliability. You were beginning to think you were lucky spotting him that day with Vic or maybe he was just being more careful. You didn’t have time to let him slip away over and over. You needed to bring the game to him before someone else died.

Even with your head down tracking Moran, you had caught the news of the bomb on Baker Street. The remains of 221B weren’t as bad as it could be but it was enough to make its point. Will and Rosie were off with Mr. and Mrs. Holmes on a last minute vacation and it was the only thing that allowed you to breathe. With the kids out of reach, that left only the adults to get this over with and it wasn’t getting done as fast as you hoped.

You closed your eyes and rubbed them gently. The hours of staring through binoculars and watching different buildings was definitely getting to you. This was never your type of work but it had to be now. Mycroft was doing his part while everyone else thought he was in critical condition at an unspecified hospital, Sherlock and John were probably recovered enough by now to be back at it, and Vic was working her angle on Moran’s business. But Moran had become just as much of a ghost as the three men you hoped to hell knew what they were doing.  

You couldn’t get Eurus’s flash of recognition at the sight of you out of your head. It didn’t look like she mentioned it to Moran but she could have messaged him once she got in the car she sped off in. Did he actually see you and send his men after you or did she? Either way, they came after you. They had more than enough chances to kill you but that wasn’t the plan like the tranquilizer Eurus shot into John’s chest when she could have killed him. There was a much bigger game than to simply kill you in the streets, they needed you alive to be handed over to Moran or Eurus.

You snapped your eyes open and stared at the house you’d been watching for the better part of the day and wondered if maybe you were going about this all wrong. You didn’t have to find him, you could let him find you. Break into one of his houses, they would certainly have surveillance, and present an undeniable option. Plan b was always a reliable backup.

You turned on your mobile and called Vic. A couple of beeps notified you of messages as you waited for her to answer. You were just about to pull the phone away to look when her harried voice broke through. “Y/n?”

“What is it?”

“We’ve been trying to get a hold of you since yesterday!”

“I told you I was tracking…”

“Mycroft, John, and Sherlock are gone and I can give you one bet where they’ve headed.”

You shoved the key into the ignition. “Do you think Mycroft was right, that she wouldn’t hurt either of them?”

“How the hell could anyone say for sure? The girl was locked up when she was a child! It’s been decades since he’s really talked to her and he let fucking Moriarty in to have a chat. Listen, that backup plan we talked about the other night, after some actual sleep I have a few concerns…”

“Do you think Moran is working with her?”

“That’s the problem, I think they are and if this has so much to do with her brothers, if Moriarty set this up, I’m a little worried about why she’s working with Moran.”

“What if he’s the best chance we’ve got?”  

“Radio silence on their end and it’s impossible to get a line to Sherrinford without Mycroft. So, this whole plan has a few holes. How much sleep have you gotten? You should come in and once we hear from Mycroft…”

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“They filmed parts of the Exorcist at the college I went to. There are all sorts of spooky urban legend type stories told about the “cursed” filming of that movie, feel free to look them up.

I love ghost stories and urban legends, but our Exorcist campus stories didn’t do much for me. The idea that the filming of a Hollywood movie would bring ghosts or demons or whatever to haunt college kids in their dorms was not particularly creepy or interesting. Certainly less so than other campus legends we had like the dorm that used to be an old morgue or the secret tunnels that ran under campus that were used to wheel bodies to the said morgue. I liked those ones, but The Exorcist stuff just seemed hokey.

Several weeks after classes had ended my junior year, I was scheduled to leave on one of those overseas volunteer trips that college kids do. Our group was scheduled to leave from campus and head to the airport together early one June morning. We decided it would be fun to all spend the night before on campus together.

All the dorms had been emptied out for the summer, with the exception of the one or two they kept open for summer students. One of the people coming on our trip, however, was a school employee who lived on campus in a nice air-conditioned apartment in one of the closed-up dorms. As you’re probably guessing by now, yes, it was a dorm in which they filmed an Exorcist scene, supposedly in the basement.

Out of the whole group of us, there were only two guys, me and my friend Brian. The girls all decided to have a big sleepover on the floor in the staff member’s 4th floor apartment. Brian and I decided to go off and find an empty room with beds (but not an air conditioner unit) to stay in down the hall. Partly because we wanted both wanted to sleep in a bed, partly because hours of late night girl talk didn’t interest us, and partly because we knew about the haunted reputation of the building and thought it would be fun.

There was a lot going on in my mind that night. I was super excited about the trip; I had never been overseas before. I really wanted to get a good night’s sleep so I started off the trip feeling good and not crabby. The room Brian and I chose was incredibly hot and stuffy though, even with the windows opened as much as they would go, and my mind was racing the whole night, thinking about the long flight in the morning. The hours just dripped away.

At some point after hours of lying awake, I started feeling like I had to pee. The only open bathroom in the building was down on the first floor. I knew that getting up and going to the bathroom was just going to make me feel even more awake, so I tried to fight it. Also, as much as I didn’t put much stock in the silly Exorcist ghosts or whatever, the idea of going down to the first floor in the dark didn’t seem particularly appealing.

Eventually though, the need to pee was just too strong. I got up and, using my cell phone as a light, found my way to the elevator, went down to the first floor, relieved myself, and started back up. I got back into the elevator and pressed the button for the 4th floor. Instead, the elevator decided to go down, taking me to the basement. Being that there was nobody else staying in the building that night besides us, my heart started pounding. I had been in sort of a sleepy daze, and suddenly I was wide awake and thinking what the fuck is going on.

When the doors to the basement opened, I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to look out. I felt my way over to the panel and peeked out just enough to find the button for the 4th floor. I pressed it. The doors started to close, but then jolted, as if someone had stuck their arm between them to stop them.

So, I’m just standing there in the elevator, it’s deathly quiet, I’m breaking into a cold sweat despite the fact that the building was like a furnace, and I keep pressing 4, and the door keeps trying to shut but can’t. Eventually I open my eyes and look out, just to make sure there’s not actually something stuck between the doors, and all I see is the pitch dark of the basement beyond. I’m starting to think I’m going to have to go out into that darkness and find the stairs if I want to get back to the room.

That’s when I hear it, and I swear to god this actually happened, I hear a person muttering something off in that darkness. I close my eyes again and just keep pounding on that button and eventually, the doors are able to close and they take me back up to the 4th floor.

Suffice to say, I never got back to sleep that night and I started off the trip being really crabby and feeling out of sorts.”

By: CarthVonMonk (What is the weirdest/creepiest unexplained thing you’ve ever encountered?)

Chap Twenty

Originally posted by livingstills

Originally posted by mycroftslittlebrother

Originally posted by skulls-and-tea

Connection.  Read Chap One here. Two. Three Four.  Five. Six. Seven. Eight.  Nine.  Ten.  Eleven.  Twelve.  Thirteen.  Fourteen.  Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.  Eighteen.  Nineteen.

Sherlock x reader

Summary: an American forensic psychologist hired by Mycroft Holmes. You thought it would be more interesting and fulfilling than your previous job with a law firm in London but you had no idea how much it would change your life. Or really, how much one person would change everything.

Word Count: 3942

“The very thought of you” Billie Holiday lyrics in bold and italics

Special Beta thanks to @prettyxlittlexwriter  

Your name: submit What is this?

You were sitting on a bench at Will’s favorite park reading the London newspaper you found at the library. While skimming through it for any sign of another sniper victim or any possible link, you stopped on a story of an unidentified three-year-old boy in Bart’s morgue. The boy’s description made your stomach turn and the thought that came with it sickened you further; could this boy’s death have been a deliberate hit at Sherlock?

The case wall appeared when you closed your eyes and you double checked the date of the last sniper victim. It had been too quiet for such a stretch of time, it bothered you. You had started to wonder if the drop off had been another part of the plan. Add up just enough victims to get his attention and then go underground and leave it. The quiet could drive Sherlock crazy especially if there were no clues to dwell on and eventually Scotland Yard would mark it unsolved and file it away. But for Sherlock, there would be no solution; something that rarely happened but bothered him when it did and it would never disappear. He was still solving cases, little stories were in the newspaper every so often, but you knew this one would be digging under his skin.

You felt terrible wishing for another shooting but action can have a reaction, every shooting could have a slip-up, but nothing at all was dangerous. It just didn’t make sense with Moriarty’s past games but maybe that was the point. Could he deliberately be throwing cases at him and then leaving them to grow cold? The silence that punctured a deep wound left to fester until it became toxic and corrupted not only his mind palace but everything.

Thinking of quiet, you glanced up and didn’t see Will. “Will?” You stood from the bench cursing your wandering mind and scanned the area while tamping down on the knee-jerk panic. He was probably just hiding in a tunnel playing a game.

You moved swiftly to the playground equipment and looked in the tunnel with a forced grin, “boo.”

The word bounced around the hollow tube as your heart slammed into your ribcage. Nagging anxiety reared up into full-fledged fear clamping down on your throat. You spun, taking in every inch of the park and raised your voice, “Will!”

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In Dreams 5

Y'all ready to go AU??

Rating: Gen


The Chicago field office is newer than the Hoover, but at it’s most basic level, is still government building. The whole place is builder-grade, with cracked ceramic tiles and low pile carpet in the bullpens. The forensics dept is basically the same as any in a standard police department or CSI office. It is essentially glorified a teacher’s lounge with high tech lab equipment and five-year-old computers.

Thankfully, a morgue doesn’t require much flash. As long as she has her equipment, she’s happy.

Well, not happy, in the month and a half since her arrival, she’s been making a pretty good show of it though.

She’s able to work with a certain level of anonymity here. The field agents are focused on organized crime and gangs, not her spooky reputation, which seems to have blown away in the windy midwest. She can be whoever she wants here. Maybe she likes the corny jokes the guy in fingerprints regales her with everyday. Perhaps she’s the kind of person who joins the forensics department book club. She could be the kind of woman who wants a cashmere sweater because Oprah recommended it. Couldn’t she?

Keep reading

Haunted Universities and Colleges in Ohio. part 1

Antioch College-

  • G.stanley Hall- A former college building which is now boarded up, this 1860s mansion is supposed to be haunted by weird shapes and optical distortions which float through its halls.
  • Glen Helen Nature Preserve- Indians and the original Helen after whom the preserve was named haunt this “living laboratory” located in the woods near campus.

Baldwin Wallace College-

  • Kohler Hall- Kohler Hall was built in the 1870s as the Methodist Children’s Home. It’s said that it was used variously as a hospital and an insane asylum. A tunnel exists beneath Seminary Street between the basement morgue and the college Chapel, walled off on the Chapel end and locked tight in the old morgue. Today Kohler is known as the “freak building,” partially because it houses art majors, but also because of the freaky happenings inside its walls. A mysterious blue haze is the most frequently encountered manifestation, one which only appears in the old wing of the building. It presses down on people while they’re in bed and appears in the halls. A ghost also sometimes tugs blankets off sleeping residents. 
  • Lang Hall- Emma Lang, the woman after whom this residence hall is named, is seen walking the halls and heard rattling her keys. Students who have seen her recognize her from a picture that hangs above the mantel in the lobby. Another story says a conservatory student on the fourth floor killed herself in her closet. Her screams echo through the building. She may also be the reason that girls sometimes feel somebody the heavy, imposing pressure of an invisible someone sitting on their lap in the restroom

Bowling Green State University-

  • Brown and saint theater- Both of these theaters (named for actors Joe E. Brown and Oscar winner Eva Marie Saint) are haunted by Alice, supposedly the ghost of a former Bowling Green actress. She is very picky, and must be appeased by the leaving on of the theater’s ghost light, as well as a formal invitation to every show by the stage manager after the final dress rehearsal. If she isn’t appeased, she’ll cause things to go wrong. One student actually saw her, but ran away before he had a chance to talk to her. 
  • Chi Omega- Chi Omega Sorority House is haunted by Amanda, a girl who was either a pledge accidentally killed in a railroad initiation, or a little girl who died on the park behind the old student union, where the house now stands. She is the source of a lot of superstition around Chi Omega. One room is labeled “Amanda’s Room” and is the site of lots of poltergeist activity, including things disappearing and reappearing in the house utility room, and a closet which locks itself. Every year in the group photo the girls leave a blank place which is marked “Amanda” in the caption. The 1986-87 class accidentally forgot to include her, and that picture is found off the wall a lot.

Columbus state Community College-It was built on top of an old Catholic cemetery which was used until the mid-1800’s. Every time they put up a new building they find more bones, which are then sent to a church for consecration and burial, but apparently that’s not enough for the ghosts, who remain so pissed that they harass night workers and local cops.

Denison University-

  • Library-The  7th floor of the library (which is not open to the public unless you have a special pass) is haunted by the ghost of a former librarian who will scare you if you fall asleep

Chamberlin Hall- it use to be a Frat house. Reports of of the usual doors closing, temp drops etc.

Heidelberg College-

  • France Hall-Ellen is the name of the ghost at France Hall. She roams the halls, locking students out of their rooms, and seems particularly tied to the attic, where strange noises are often heard. There are cold spots in the basement. Things seem to move around by themselves in the kitchen. Fire alarms seem to go off for no good reason in this building. If you see a mysterious dark-haired lady in France Hall, there’s a good chance it’s Ellen.
  • A member of a sorority which occupies France Hall describes seeing a hanger flip around a doorknob and then fly off for no apparent reason. The story is well known around campus, and especially among France Hall residents.
  • Founders Hall-The catacombs beneath Founders Hall are now used as storage space for the theater, and workers have reported seeing strange shadows flitting around down there. Radios seem to turn off for no apparent reason.
  • Willard Hall-Willard’s basement is haunted by some sort of apparition which frightens students from time to time.

Kent State University

Allyn hall-A little girl named sarah roams the halls at night

Englemen Hall- Built in the 1930’s as an all female dorm. Englemen is haunted by the ghost of a young women who was beaten, raped, murdered in the 1940’s and 50’s.

Koonce Hall- Which is haunted by the very judgemental spirit, Judy Koonce. rumor has it that if your presence is nice than she will be nice to you but if you give off a mean, destructive presence, than she’ll be mean to you. Judy died while saving a child in the flood of Kent.

Also it is rumored that the victims of the Kent state massacre still haunts the school in the places where they died.

"Just a Nurse"

I didn’t catch the Miss America competition this weekend, as it was my weekend to work. Not that I would’ve watched anyway, I’ve never been much of a “girly girl”. I suppose that’s why Emergency nursing attracted me. I knew I could do things in the Emergency Department that I would never do anywhere else. Not to mention the autonomy I have there. We are respected by our physicians as the best of the best. So, while the Miss America pageant was broadcasting, I was starting my second 12 hour night shift. I was running a Level 1 Trauma center Emergency Department, as the charge nurse. I was assessing patients coming in by squad with my nifty “doctors stethoscope” and being gatekeeper to the unending lines of squads and patients checking in.

After my 36 hours in the Emergency Department this weekend (what did you do with your weekend?), I slept most of the day Monday. My sleep was broken by the myriad of daytime noises… kids playing, lawn mowers, cars coming and going from the neighbor’s, and our two cats meowing, wanting my attention. When my boyfriend finally called and woke me at 4pm, I felt like I had wasted the entire day, yet only gotten a couple hours of broken sleep. I stumbled to the shower, hoping I could at least salvage the evening.

I spent that evening having dinner with a colleague, an advanced practice nurse with two masters degrees, and my wonderful boyfriend, who listened to us bitch endlessly about the bullshit we put up with just to do our job properly. He has the patience of a saint, not to mention he respects my work. Doesn’t hurt that he’s in love with me either. 😉

Tuesday, I woke up bright and early, ready to accomplish something with my only full day off. But, a morning doctors appt quickly turned into a specialists visit and minor surgery for my boyfriend. He picked me up and I went with him so that I could drive him home afterward and decifer any home going instructions he received. Plus, I’m also in love with him, and wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. I was sent to the waiting area while he had the procedure where I sat and stewed… I don’t make a good patient, and I make an even worse patients significant other. I mentally checked off all the things I should be on the look out for… fevers, increased swelling, drainage, bleeding, cellulitis, MRSA, etc. Once we were done, I dropped off his prescriptions at the pharmacy and took him home to rest. But, by the time we made the 30 minute trip, the area in question was already significantly swollen and didn’t look right to me. We called the doctors office, but had to leave a voicemail. Then, I waited. And I got him lunch, and picked up his prescriptions, and watched the area like a hawk, while I waited for the office to return the call. I got him a cold pack to put on it, in hopes the swelling would slow, and worried. We watched movies and I stayed with him all afternoon and evening, because again, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

You see, this girl who is “just a nurse”, doesn’t ever stop being a nurse. Even on my days off, my boyfriend will attest to the fact that I am frequently stewing over a work situation, or a sick patient I took care of, or working on items for one of the many committees I belong to in the hospital. When I’m not doing those things, I’m a mother, a daughter, a sister, a girlfriend and I’m still a nurse. And I take care of the people I love. Even if it’s just to answer a phone call and reassure them they’re not going to die from taking motrin 5 hours apart instead of 6. Yes, this actually happens to us all the time.

My point being, that by Tuesday night, I was finally relaxed enough to scroll through my Facebook feed and catch up on the offensive and appalling comments Joy Behar made on The View about Miss Colorado. You can Google it if you haven’t already heard, but she questioned why she was wearing a “doctors stethoscope” and basically mocked her, calling her “just a nurse.”

Now, I don’t watch much television, I’m too busy for that. So, I’m sure that The View will never miss my patronage, since they never had it to begin with. But let me just say, of all professions to mock, nursing is not the one. With over 3 million nurses in the US alone, not to mention the family, friends and colleagues that love and respect us, you just pissed off the wrong crowd.

Think about this, the very first stethoscope laid on an infants chest after delivery is held in the hands of a nurse. The very last person to hold your hand, or wash your worn out body after you pass from this life to the next, is a nurse. The last person to catch a medication error before it kills you, is a nurse. The person that decides who is seen immediately and who waits in the Emergency Department, is a nurse. The person that watches over your premature infant all night long, and can detect the slightest change in their status, and is responsible for calling in a team to rapidly assess and care for them, is a nurse. When you are critically ill or injured and need flown from a scene or to a hospital with a higher level of care, you are taken by helicopter with a nurse. When you can no longer care for your aging parents, or disabled child, and they are placed in long term care, you rely on nurses. So, when you insult such a large and varied group of professionals, you should know that we will defend ourselves tirelessly for the respect we deserve. Luckily for Joy Behar and her table of witless, intellectually challenged cohorts, the nurses of the world are still bound by law and by profession to provide you with the same care they would their own family member. Unlike Kim Davis, the clerk in Tennessee who is hiding behind her religion as a reason not to do her job, we are professionals, and we will never walk away from someone who needs us, just because we don’t share the same religion, ethics, education, ethnicity, sexual orientation or political beliefs. We are nurses, and we are damn proud of it.

So, Joy Behar, I would like to know what you did with your weekend. When was the last time you saved a life? Have you ever carried a 4 year old to the morgue after they died at the hands of their own parent? Have you ever held brain tissue in your hands after a 16 year old shoots himself in the head? Have you ever picked grass and dirt out of severed limb so that it can reattached to the 8 year old that fell under a riding lawn mower? Have you ever been attacked by a family member of a dead child, after you did everything in your power to save their life? Have you ever left the bedside of your own dying family member to go to work to care for someone else’s sick child? Have you missed out on countless holidays, birthdays and school plays to be cussed at and berated by the people you are bound to care for? Do you lay awake at night wondering if you did enough, worked hard enough or advocated to the best of your ability for the sick and dying? Have you ever done CPR on a coworker? Because I have… and when I get dressed for work tonight and put on my scrubs and hang that “doctors stethoscope” around my neck, please know that will spend all 12 hours working my ass off to save lives, and honor my profession to the best of my ability. And I won’t be losing any sleep over the comments you so carelessly made about me and my colleagues. You sit behind a desk and talk shit about something you obviously know nothing about. Until you’ve walked the proverbial mile in my shoes, you should refrain from ever opening those flapping jowls of yours again with criticism of my profession. You will never have even an ounce of the dignity, courage and professionalism displayed by nurses across the country. You are a disgrace, and I sincerely hope you never speak in public again, unless it’s to offer a sincere and heartfelt apology to nurses everywhere.


“Just a Nurse”

Twice a week

I got this idea last night, I don’t even know if it’s good, but I couldn’t get it out of my head (well technically I could, but you know what I mean XD)

‘William Sherlock Scott BLOODY Holmes’ the man in question winced as the words travelled up the stairs and met his ears.

He had of course anticipated a reaction like this but the small specialist registrar still had a way of making the consulting detective cower when the tone of her voice rose. John had laughed when Sherlock had told him, but as Sherlock had been the only one to ever be on the other end of that yell. John couldn’t really know.

Molly stormed through the door ‘you moved all my things here, what it didn’t occur to you to ask me?’ She said as she now glowered at him, her eyes stormy with anger.

‘It seemed like the most obvious solution.’ He answered as he got up from his seat and turned to the window.

‘Solution to what?’

‘To how you spend your time, it takes far long for you to have to go and get clothes at your flat before you come here. Molly you fall asleep on my sofa half of the time. Be reasonable.’

‘Fine, a couple of things though. You clean the bathroom every week, twice.’ She said with the return of her menacing tone of voice.

‘Why can’t I just a-ugh’ Sherlock had turned around only to be hit flat in the face with a pillow and Molly glaring at him from only centimetres away.

‘You Sherlock, not Mrs. Hudson, not John, not a maid, not anyone but you.’

Before the consulting detective could reply Molly was halfway up the stair to John’s old room.

He chuckled slightly, she really could be bossy when she wanted to, but granted it really was the most obvious solution, they’d spend quite a lot of time together lately – after she’d forgiven him for the whole doing drugs thing, and the return of Moriarty of course. –

A few months went by and even though Sherlock could put Molly truly on edge, they were getting along quite nicely, for their standard anyway.

When people came to see them the two of them were more often than not dressed in a robe and safety goggles, standing over a new piece of fresh (or old) meat from the morgue that molly had brought home.

Sometimes screams of horror would travel up the stairs to Molly’s room when Mrs. Hudson found yet another severed head perched on a shelf in the fridge.

Thankfully it worked for the two of them, and even though Molly nagged Sherlock about cleaning and shooting, he really did think he’d found the perfect roommate.

The summer and autumn had gone, and winter had arrived.

‘Sherlock, where’s all my stuff,’ her voice bounced down the stairs from what was now called Molly’s room. Well it wouldn’t be called that for much longer of course.

‘My room, its winter,’ he replied yelling straight back at her.

‘And so my stuff has to be in your bedroom, Sherlock i’m very close to murdering you with the strap of my bag, tell me why are my things in your room?’

‘I told you it’s cold, and you’re a source of warmth, simply really, and you call yourself a doctor,’ he scoffed, brushing her away with his hand.

Molly snorted, ‘it takes a fool to know one.’ She simply muttered under her breath, confusing the consulting detective before he decided to just ignore her.

She went to the bathroom no doubt undergoing her nightly routine to get ready for bed.

Sherlock joined her six hours later having spent most of the night solving the cases on John’s blog, people really had the most atrocious problems, but he’d changed and where in the past he would have simply scoffed and deleted the entries, he now solved them.

Molly was half tangled in the sheet, her bare legs splayed to his side of the bed; he couldn’t keep the smile back. And when he finally slipped into bed, his smile only widened, he’d been correct it was perfectly warm, comfortable, and welcoming. He was asleep within minutes.

Another couple of months had gone by, Mrs. Hudson had now gotten used to the occasional head in the fridge. Most clients had heard about his new flatmate and their odd relationship.

‘Sherlock, what the hell is this?’ Molly asked once again, now walking out of their bedroom, holding a small black box in her hand.

‘You’re going to have to be a bit more specific Molly,’ he answered still looking at the folder he’d just gotten from Mycroft.

‘What are you doing with a ring, I swear if you’re pulling that fake proposal shit on some other poor girl, i’m leaving.’

Molly stopped her tirade when she saw a flash of hurt cross Sherlock’s face, it was gone as quick as it had been there, but living with him for so long had its perks, and she could tell when he was fibbing even better than Mary.

‘I apologise Sherlock, please just explain it.’

‘It’s for you obviously, it’s the next logical step in our relationship.’

Molly shook her head and rolled her eyes, really, the man was insufferable.

‘Fine’ she agreed before kissing him full on the lips, leaving the consulting detective quite breathless.

He watched her walk to their bedroom, ‘but sex is the next step, and you’re still cleaning the bathroom.’

Fic -- The World Moves Beneath Us -- TenToo/Rose -- Chapter 6/?

Chapters - 1 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

A collaboration between kilodalton and brighterthanroses

Summary: He’d promised himself he’d never again be without her, that he wouldn’t ever have to be. But then he gets a glimpse of his future.

Rating: Teen

A/N: No warning, but the story deals with themes related to character death

The smell of smoke and rain wafts around her body, the mud cakes on to her trainers. It’s intoxicating, just being here, around these people with their simple love of music, kissing and making love under the gray sky. Out in the open.

It’s times like these that remind her of how much she’s changed since she was nineteen. Her very morality has changed–or at least, she has learned to accept other people’s moralities, like the Doctor told her to do, so very long ago in that dingy old Cardiff morgue.

She wonders, not for the first time, who she’d be if she hadn’t met the Doctor. Probably dead. Definitely not the Rose Tyler she was meant to be. Rose doesn’t much believe in destiny or fate, but after seeing Donna Noble in that world without the Doctor, she suspects she doesn’t know much at all about the ways of the universe. Maybe she was that guiding force, once upon a time when the golden gasps of time swelled in her veins. Maybe she’s always been.

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