reichenbach hero

Remember How It Felt? // Sherlock Holmes

Originally posted by silent-micka

Angst Angst Angst Angst ANGST! Hope you don’t all hate me for this one. Song rec goes to @im-currently-daydreaming who gave me the idea to use it. 

Requested by Anon: Before the Reichenbach Fall, you were Sherlocks girlfriend. When he realizes the outcome of what’s going to happen, he finds it best to tell you that he really doesn’t love you so he can spare you pain. But his confession brings on a whole wave of hurt you never expected, and words never meant to be spoken.

Warnings: None? Turns from angst into fluff? 

Song lyrics come from I Don’t Love You- My Chemical Romance

The song lyrics at the end come from Too Far Moon- Till My Heart Stops


Well, when you go
Don’t ever think I’ll make you try to stay
And maybe when you get back
I’ll be off to find another way

He folded his hands on his lap as he patiently waited for your arrival. It wasn’t long now. Not long until he ruined your life, not long until he met his fate. Sherlock Holmes was not a lucky man, but he was surely a man in love. 

  “You nearly scared me half to death, Sherlock Holmes! Did you get the key code from the flat? I looked everywhere and couldn’t find the bloody thing!” 

You knew the moment his eyes met yours that things had taken a turn for the worst. 

And after all this time that you still owe
You’re still the good-for-nothing I don’t know
So take your gloves and get out
Better get out
While you can

Your heart nearly stopped as he began to speak. “You’re so gullible, y/n. The poor little girl who wanted someone to love her?” He taunted, still several feet away from you. Despite your inability to breathe, you never took your eyes off of him. “Did you honestly believe that someone like myself could love someone like you?” 

  “Shut up.” 

  “Oh no, I’m not done yet. Here’s the truth of the matter. I don’t love you y/n. I never did. It was all a test. An experiment.” 

The despair and anguish in your face was soon replaced with a new unbridled fury that you had never experienced before. Part of you wondered if he was saying all of this to spare you from something much greater than you realized, but you never asked. You just started screaming. 

  “I spent so much time investing myself into you.” You said quietly, curling and uncurling your hands into fists. “My expertise in criminal justice was just what you needed to get at Moriarty, wasn’t it? Poor little y/n, the woman who got played by the Detective with no heart. I should have seen it coming. But I, unlike you, did love you. I adored you. Remember how it felt to look at me and know that despite what happened, I was always going to stick by you?” 

When you go
Would you even turn to say
I don’t love you
Like I did

  “Get out of here, and do me a favor. Don’t come back.” The bitterness in his voice sent you sinking to your knees. You had never begged for anything in your life, but there you were pleading with the man who claimed to never love you. “I said get out y/n!” 

  “This is all a ruse. I know you. I’ve always known you!” You shrieked, unable to keep your composure as tears came rolling down your cheeks. It was just a flicker, but you saw the guilt linger in his eyes as you hid your face in your hands. “You told me yourself that you had never known what unconditional love felt like until you looked at me. I saw you for who you are, Sherlock Holmes. Do you really want to throw it all away?” 

His phone vibrated against his chest, his final calling to the rooftop where death awaited him. “It’s probably best that you go now.” He replied, brushing past your sobbing form on the floor of the lab. “Live for me.” 

  “If you’d let me, I’d die for you.” 

Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading
So sick and tired of all the needless beating
But baby when they knock you
Down and out
It’s where you oughta stay

After nearly fifteen minutes laying still on the floor, you inhaled deeply and dragged yourself up onto your feet, ambling out of the hospital and flagging down a cab. Everything in your life felt so.. wrong. Like you had spent the past year and a half committing the worst crime possible. 

You had fallen in love with Sherlock Holmes.

When John never came back, you didn’t care.

When the news played the headlines Reichenbach Hero Proved To Be A Fraud, the only thing you did was cry even harder then you had the past week. It took a while, but your tears stopped coming. 

But how does a heart feel after it has endured the most tragic emotion of all, grief? 

 “Y/n, come sing to me. It helps me concentrate.” Sherlock called out from the living room, his hands resting against his eyes. You’d been studying your case notes in the kitchen and drinking your first cup of tea for the day, stepping out into the warm flat at his call. 

Poking his side, you smiled down at the Detective who looked at you with nothing but awe in his blue eyes. “I think dancing would help you concentrate more. Going cold turkey isn’t exactly easy.” You replied, pushing the furniture out of the way to give both you and Sherlock a large enough space to dance.”You lead, I’ll sing. Sound good?” 

  “Sounds perfect.” 

Dancing had been your getaway from the world, something that you and Sherlock both excelled at. And the song.. your song.. now it was just empty lyrics. How does one dance without their partner?


Two years. 

You had endured personal hell for two years. John was non existent, Greg Lestrade had completely given up in anything to do with Sherlock, and you hadn’t set foot in the flat since you moved out. 

It had taken nearly five months for you to make the decision, leaving behind everything you ever knew and starting somewhere fresh. Granted you only lived a block away, but you still wanted to keep your visits with Mrs. Hudson frequent. She was one of the few who still mattered to you. 

You always wondered if Sherlock had said such cruel words to protect you. Because despite his sociopathic tendencies, you had seen the heart that lay beneath first hand. 

I’ll always remember how you made me feel. 

221B didn’t deserve to be a casket, so you spent two days cleaning out the entire flat from top to bottom. You straightened up the endless papers from Sherlocks cases, and even picked up at tuning his violin. It wasn’t your skill to play it, but it made you feel close to him. 

  “What about y/n?” Sherlock questioned, tucking his shirt into his trousers as he stared at himself in the mirror. It had been far too long since he had heard any news about you. You were his soul reason to get back to London. “I hurt her badly before I fell. I said things I shouldn’t have said.” 

  “She’s pulled through, remarkably enough.” Mycroft replied. “Last I heard, she was spending most of her time cleaning your flat top to bottom and attending regular therapeutic sessions with John.” As Anthea handed Sherlock his Belstaff, Mycroft found the urge to speak up once again. “Brother?” 


  “Do yourself a favor and don’t hurt her again.” 

Sherlock quietly stepped into the flat, hidden in the shadows of the kitchen as you lit one of your candles on the now nearly immaculate desk. “Remember how it felt when you told me you loved me, Sherlock?” You murmured quietly to yourself. “That was the same night you said you were going to marry me someday.” You turned back towards the wall where you had taped one photo of you and Sherlock, clasping your hands together against your lips as you reminisced when it had been taken. “My love, my love… Where have you gone? I turned around and now I’m alone… Will I ever understand it? Will I make it to the other side? I almost died… the day I lost you.” 

Your heart clenched as the next part of the song- your song, echoed in a deep baritone from directly behind you. “I’ll keep breathing,” You let out a sharp sob as Sherlock stepped out of the shadows, his blue eyes still clearly visible in darkness. He had dried blood on his face and his top lip was swollen, but despite his pain, he still sang. “I’ll keep breathing, till my heart stops, till my heart stops…”

  “You still have a gorgeous voice.” You whispered in disbelief. His bow shaped lips quirked upward in a smile as you stepped closer to him, hand outstretched to rest over his heart. Your cries became more pronounced as you felt it- the unmistakable thrum of his heat beat. “You’re real. You’re here.” 

  “John put me through the ringer when I barged in on his proposal, but I’m here. I don’t plan on going anywhere ever again.” Sherlock whispered, his hands tangling in your hair as he captured your lips in his own. Your knees wobbled at the force of his kiss, pouring everything you’d been feeling over the past two years he’d been gone into it. Grief, anger, guilt. You pulled away first, jumping into his arms and wrapping your legs around his waist. “Everything I said in the hospital y/n.. It was meant to keep you safe. I didn’t want you to be so damaged when I return that you would hate me.. I don’t think I could bear it if you did. I’m sorry.” He buried his face in your neck and shuddered as you raked your fingers through his hair. 

  “Part of me never lost faith in you because of that photo.” He slowly set you on the ground and allowed you to pull him towards the shot up wall, where the photo John had taken was taped. The two of you had been dancing, and when he’d barged in, you had tripped right into Sherlocks embrace laughing hysterically at your fault, his eyes on you and his smile wide. Genuine. In love. It was the only reason you had kept your faith. “That’s you. The Sherlock I fell in love with. My brain kept telling me to leave all of this behind-” 

  “What did your heart tell you?” 

You grabbed his hands and rested them against your abdomen, leaning backward into his chest. “It kept telling me the same thing over and over again. Remember how it felt to save so many lives? To literally change the world?  To look at you, that insanely beautiful man, and remember how it felt to live? That’s what my heart told me. To remember all of the good instead of the bad. And I did.  That’s why I’m still breathing.”

  “I love you.” He whispered softly. “Will you do me the pleasure of getting back together with me?” 

  “There’s not anything I want more.” 

The life in 221B thrived.

Memories were made.

Love was rekindled.

And everytime you looked at the man who had taken you as his wife, it got easier to just keep breathing.

Tag List

 @gonnamurderyou @foureyedsiopao @charlottemalfoy


New Leaf (rp with the-reichenbach-hero)


Piper gently lowered the heavy box of recording equipment into the living room of the basement of 221 Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson, of course, had offered a room on the upper floor, but she insisted that the basement would be fine. There would be less sound heard if she was recording down there.

Of course, it was all furnished like the other apartments-or flats, she supposed. Of course, when she imagined starting out with a clean slate in a new country, she never thought it would be in a basement. But the rent was cheap and better than her other options.

With that thought, she climbed back up, grabbed another one of the remaining boxes, and started he cycle all over again.

Hello Detective Chapter 47

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

“Joining me?” Sherlock asked as you were handcuffed together.

“Yeah, apparently there’s some kind of law about assaulting officers.” You said, and Sherlock’s head turned back to see blood running from Donovan’s nose. He let out a small smile.

“Bit awkward, this.” Sherlock said.

“There’s no one to bail us.” You said, though you could always call Mycroft, but you also knew Sherlock would refuse his help.

“I was thinking more about our imminent and daring escape. You don’t have an earpiece in right?” Sherlock asked.

“No… why?” You asked, and he grabbed the dispatcher from the car you two were against, and gave it a squeeze. An excruciatingly high pitched sound emitted through all the earpieces of every officer around. Everyone clutched their ears and quickly ripped it out. Sherlock quickly turned around, dragging you with him, and pulled a  gun out of an officer’s belt.

“Ladies and gentlemen, will you all please get on your knees?” Sherlock yelled, pointing the gun around at them, but no one moved, he fired into the air twice, “Now would be good!”

“Do as he says!” Lestrade yelled, ushering everyone down to their knees.

“Just so you’re all aware the gun is his idea. I’m just, uh, you know…” You rambled nervously.

“My hostage!” Sherlock said, pointing the gun at you. As you two slowly backed up away from Baker Street.

“Hostage? Ok, what now?” You whispered.

“Doing what Moriarty wants. Becoming a fugitive. Run.” Sherlock said, dropping the gun from your head and running.

“Get after him Lestrade!” You heard the Chief yell from around the corner.

You two ran awkwardly, since your hands were cuffed together.

“Take my hand!” Sherlock instructed, and you obeyed.

You continued to run until you cut through an alleyway. You were about to turn a corner when you saw a police car passing and pulled Sherlock back. You two waited, leaning against the cold brick.

“Everybody wants to believe it. That’s what makes it so clever. A lie that’s preferable to the truth. All my brilliant deductions were just a sham. No one feels inadequate. Sherlock Holmes is just an ordinary man.” Sherlock said, before pulling you to the opposite wall.

“What about Mycroft? He can help us.” You said.

“Big family reconciliation. Now’s not really the moment.” Sherlock said, peeking around the corner.

“Sherlock.” You whispered, pointing down the alley to a man peeking out from behind the wall. “One of your new neighbors.” You recognized him from the files Mycroft had shown you.

“Let’s see if he can give us some answers.” Sherlock said, before running.

“Where are we going?” You asked. He looked out to the street and the red double decker coming down the path.

“We’re going to jump in front of that bus.” He said before taking off again. You followed him into the street, your heart beating fast. Before the bus could hit you, you were pushed out of the way by Sherlock’s new neighbor. You hit the ground and Sherlock grabbed the gun from the assassins waistband since the one he had was dropped blocks ago.

“Tell me what you want from me.” Sherlock demanded, pointing the gun at him. “Tell me!”

“He left it at your flat.” He said.

“Who?” Sherlock asked.

“Moriarty.” The assassin answered.

“What?” Sherlock asked.

“The computer key code.” You all stood.

“Of course, he’s selling it. The program he used to break into the Tower. He planted it when he came around.” Sherlock smiled, finally understanding, he lowered the gun.

Gunshots were fired from the air and the assassin in front of you dropped to the ground dead. You took a step back in shock, and looked to the rooftop where the shots had to have come from.

You and Sherlock ran, panting before ducking into an alcove.

“It’s a game changer. It’s a key. It could break into any system and it’s sitting in our flat right now. That’s why he left that message telling everyone where to come ‘Get Sherlock’. We need to get back into the flat and search.” Sherlock said.

“CID will be camped out. Why plant it on you? Another subtle way of smearing your name?” You asked, looking behind the corner and hearing sirens again.

“I assume so, now I’m best pals with all those criminals.” Sherlock said. Your eyes darted to a newspaper stand that had the SUN just next to where you were hiding.

“Yeah, well, have you seen this?” You asked, grabbing a copy to show Sherlock. “A kiss and tell. Someone named Rich Brook. Who is he? Mycroft showed it to me.”

Sherlock’s eyes grew wide when he saw the name of the writer.

“I know where we need to go, come on.” He took off running.

You had now broken into a flat and were sitting on the couch. You assumed you knew where you were even though Sherlock didn’t tell you: Kitty Riley’s flat. Your suspicions were confirmed when the door creaked open and the lights flipped on.

“Too late to go on the record?” Sherlock asked, as Kitty’s eyes grew wide when they landed on the two of you in her couch.

You had handed Sherlock the bobby pin that you used to break into her flat, so he could undo his handcuff before you did yours.

“Congratulations. The truth about Sherlock Holmes. The scoop that everybody wanted and you’ve got it. Bravo.” Sherlock growled at her. She now sat across from where you were.

“I gave you your opportunity. I wanted to be on your side, remember?” She said. “You turned me down, you both did.”

“And then, lo and behold, someone turns up and spills the beans. How utterly convenient. Who is Brook?” Sherlock asked. She shook her head like she wasn’t going to answer.

“Oh, come on, Kitty. No one trusts the voice at the end of a telephone. There were all those furtive little meetings in cafes, those sessions in the hotel room where he gabbled into your Dictaphone.” You seethed with anger.

“How do you know that you can trust him. A man turns up with the Holy Grail in his pocket. What were his credentials?” Sherlock asked, and you could hear the sound of the door opening directly behind you.

“Darling, they didn’t have any ground coffee, so I just got normal.” A voice spoke from behind you, your eyes went wide and looked to Sherlock as you recognized it. You quickly turned around and was met face to face with James Moriarty.

He dropped the bag of groceries and backed up against the wall, his hand raised.

“You said that they wouldn’t find me here. You said that I’d be safe here.” He spoke, his voice trembling, no where near the same as the Moriarty you knew.

“You are safe, Richard. I’m a witness. They wouldn’t harm you in front of witnesses.” Kitty said.

“Richard? So, that’s your source? Moriarty is Richard Brook.” You argued.

“Of course he’s Richard Brook, there is no Moriarty, there never has been.” Kitty believed.

“What are you talking about?” You said, mystified.

“Look him up. Rich Brook, an actor Sherlock Holmes hired to be Moriarty.” Kitty said, and your mouth dropped open.

“Ms. Gregson, I know you’re a good woman. Don’t… Don’t hurt me.” He raised both of his hands in defense.

“No, you’re Moriarty! He’s Moriarty! We’ve met, remember? You were going to blow me up! You have been following me since I met Sherlock!” You yelled.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. He paid me. I needed the work.” He almost laughed.

“That’s impossible! Moriarty knew things about me that even Sherlock didn’t! You knew about my uncle, you knew what he did to me, what he called me! And you knew that I–” You were furious. You stopped yourself before you said he knew you were pregnant. You promised Mycroft you wouldn’t tell Sherlock. It might have been a stupid decision, but right now Sherlock needed to focus more than ever. “Sherlock, you better explain ‘cause I am not getting this.”

“I’ll be doing the explaining. In print. It’s all here. Conclusive proof. You invented James Moriarty, your nemesis.” Kitty said, handing you the write up.

“Invented him?” You asked, in disbelief.

“Mmm hmm. Invented all the crimes, actually. And to cap it all, you made up a master villain.” Kitty spoke.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” You scoffed.

“Ask him, he’s right here! Just ask him! Tell him, Richard.” Kitty pointed to Jim in his faded jeans and cardigan with disheveled hair. “

“Oh for God’s sake! This man was on trial!” You pointed.

“Yes, and you paid him. Paid him to take the rap. Promised you’d rig the jury. Not exactly a West End role, but I’ll bet the money was good. But not so good he didn’t want to sell his story.” Kitty said.

“I am sorry. I am, I am sorry.” He mumbled.

“Rich Brook.” You scoffed, rolled your eyes. You began to turn to Sherlock when you stopped in your tracks. Eyes wide, you could hear the voice of Ms. Hudson in your head from earlier tonight ‘German, like the fairy tales’, and Donovan ‘The Reichenbach Hero’.

“Oh my God. Rich Brook. Reichen Bach.” You turned back to Moriarty and you swore you saw a smirk flash across his face.

“Yes, that case too, all rigged.” Kitty said, not understanding.

“No Kitty, you naive idiot.” You shook your head at her. “Sie verstehen, richtig?” You spoke to Sherlock in German. You understand, correct? He nodded, still looking at Jim.

“I’m on kids TV, I’m the storyteller. It’s on DVD, Kitty show her.” He kept playing the role. Kitty handed you a folder with Richard Brooks ‘credentials’.

“Tell them. It’s all coming out now. Just tell them. Tell her!” Jim rambled, making Sherlock more angry. “It’s all over… No! No! Don’t you touch me! Don’t you lay a finger on me.”

Jim began to yell after Sherlock took a step towards him. Moriarty was now backed up against the stairs leading to the kitchen.

“Stop it, stop it now!” Sherlock yelled. Moriarty quickly turned and ran into the next room closing the door.

“Leave him alone!” Kitty yelled as you all chased him. When Sherlock got the door back open the window was open and Jim Moriarty was gone.

“No, no, no, he’ll have backup.” Sherlock pulled you away when you looked out the window.

“Do you know what, Sherlock Holmes. I look at you now and I can read you. You repel me.” Kitty said, Sherlock turned and exited her flat. You ripped the copy of her expose out of her hands, still holding the ‘Richard Brook’ file and followed Sherlock outside.

“Can he do that? Completely change his identity? Make you the criminal?” You asked.

“He’s got my whole life story. That’s what you do. You sell a big lie. You wrap it up in a truth to make it palatable.” Sherlock paced outside.

“It’s your word against his.” You argued.

“He’s been sowing doubt into people’s minds for the last 24 hours. There’s only one thing he needs to do to complete his game and that’s to–” Sherlock stopped himself before finishing.

“Sherlock?” You asked, concerned.

“There’s something I need to do.” He spoke, and his whole demeanor had changed.

“Can I help?” You asked, craving to be kept in the loop.

“No, on my own.” Sherlock said, jumping into a cab and leaving you in the dead of night outside of Kitty’s house.

“Sherlock!!” You yelled as he left you.

You angrily got into a cab, knowing there was one place you had to go.

talesofsymphoniac  asked:

AH OKAY I'LL ASK ANOTHER (unless you already have a bunch, idk). 19, please?

19. things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

“You’ve got me in a tie again, and I swore I wouldn’t after-”

“You aren’t about to mention the last one, are you?” John looks up at me from straightening his own tie in the mirror over our dressing table and approximates a glare (he can’t quite manage a glare)(not today).

“I was about to complain about my tie,” fiddle with it (too tight? too something). “But I rather liked the last one. Almost.”

John’s mouth is starting to turn down a little (that doesn’t do) and he drops his eyes to the dressing table, “You don’t have to say that.”

“I did. The food was very nice. And you were happy with me. I’d pleased you. Made you proud. I always do enjoy that. When I can manage it.”

“Don’t be stupid,” John mumbles. He finds his tie pin (it’s mine)(it’s his, but it’s mine)(gift from my stint as the Reichenbach Hero, so of course we earned it together) and fastens it on. “Is this straight?”

“Straight as an arrow.” Fidget with my own tie again. It’s something to do.

After a moment, John turns to me, “I’m always proud of you. You do know that. Yes?” He’s looking right into my face, chin out, as if he expects to be contradicted.

He knows me so well, “What about-”

“Sherlock,” John is trying to look stern, but he can’t swallow down his affection (doesn’t have to!), “We’re not going to do this. Okay? I am quite literally always proud of you. And I’d go on about it, but,” he taps his breast pocket, “then I’d tread on the toes of my vows. And you know I like to surprise you.”

Grin, “When you can manage it.”

“Yeah, that,” John reaches up and unties my tie. I think he’s going to do it up again properly, but he tosses it on the dressing table, “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.” 

John kisses me, “Good.” He undoes the top button of my shirt. “There now. I can see that mole on your throat and daydream about what I’m going to do to it on our sex holiday, all through the ceremony.”

Groan, “Oh don’t call it that, John.”

John laughs, “Okay, but only because it doesn’t do to make your new husband cross on the happiest day of your life.”

“Happiest day of your life? You think so?”

“Well, so far.” John kisses me again, “I expect we’ll top it.” He bounces his eyebrows and grins broadly, “Maybe on the honeymoon.”

Raise my right hand, “I accept that challenge.”

John laughs and grabs my raised hand, lands a kiss on it, “All right, Mr Ambitious. Let’s go, then. I can’t wait another minute to be married to you.”

I offer him my elbow, “Yes, off we pop. Time to go and be Sherlock Holmes.”

John takes my elbow, “You love it, don’t you? Being Sherlock Holmes.”

I tuck his arm a little more firmly into mine, “Yes. I do.”

Based on one of my favorite HCs for The Hounds of Baskerville.

Molly, I’m going to Dartmoor for a few days. Don’t throw out those bacterial specimens you were saving for me! I’ll need them when I get back. -SH

Dartmoor? It’s beautiful there! I went camping there with some friends in uni. Is it for a case? -MH

And don’t worry your bacteria is (are?) safe with me. -MH

Yes, it’s for a case. Have to find a big dog with glowing eyes. - SH

Does this have to do with Baskerville? I saw something about that on the news. Sounds spooky. Keep me updated. - MH

Don’t tell me you believe in this foolishness too, Molly! I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for what’s going on. Getting on the train now but I’ll e-mail you the details when we arrive. Might need your assistance later. - SH

Keep reading

Everyone, please, they’ve already told us what’s going to happen to the Watson marriage. They even told us what was going to happen to Sherlock on the day of the Watson wedding right at the beginning of TSOT. The Watson marriage is going to follow the same path of the Hudson marriage. After all, their weddings were importantly similar. The Hudson marriage was a whirlwind thing, admittedly not the love between soulmates. She didn’t know what he was up to. He was running a criminal organization. He was cheating on her with more than one other woman. She was helping his criminal organization the whole time without knowing it. She was relieved when he finally snapped and killed two people, knowing her connection to him wasn’t going to be forced anymore. She was finally freed from that abusive relationship that she was too afraid to leave - her spouse was violent she feared what he was capable of. She speaks of knowing what it’s like to have found “the person you click with” and she knows the feeling is “the best in the world”. But she admitted that wasn’t the person she married. So there was someone else along the way that made her feel whole. Someone she would rather be with, someone that wasn’t just a whirlwind thing. But she would never have had that chance at freedom had it not been for that one special person, our own Reichenbach hero. He gave her her life back. He helped her even though she was just an ordinary woman working for a drug cartel and exotic dancing on the side. His damsel in distress.

How can anyone possibly worry about the show deviating from its pattern? This show - of all shows - never deviates from the patterns the writers work so hard to interweave.

Mary is leading a double life. Mary is not faithful to John. Mary is working for a criminal organization and John’s been unknowingly helping her. Mary and John’s romance was a whirlwind thing. She is not the person he clicks with. They do not raise children together. Mary will kill, or attempt to kill, two people and she will be imprisoned or executed. John will be relieved when the chaos finally settles. He’ll have no one to thank but Sherlock for his life back. He’ll happily move back to Baker St where he belongs.

Ginny hadn’t been a DI for long, hell she’d gotten her first case just this morning and was on her way to the crime scene right now. Her right wrist was wrapped in gauze, as it always was. 

She hated the timers, hated the idea of being controlled by numbers on her skin, in a bold move right out of Uni she’d married a man who felt the same way. But his timer had hit zero the other day and she was sure that this was the end of the ‘happy life’ they’d built together. She was better off anyway.

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts as the car pulled up to the scene. They’d already rounded up the witnesses, and a junkie. 

“He was wandering the scene insisting that he knew who the killer was, he’s in that car over there.” the patrolman told her. She walked over to the car, her wrist starting to prickle uncomfortably, she rubbed it through the gauze absently as she opened the car door and looked at the young man sprawled across the backseat. 

“Who’re you then?” she scowled, the prickling feeling starting to burn a bit. 

Send me a ‘✉’ for five times my muse didn’t text yours, and one time they did

[Text: Detective] Sherlock

[Text: Detective] Sherlock I fucked up

[Text: Detective] This is bad

[Text: Detective] I am in so much pain fuck

[Text: Detective] Baaaaabeeeeee I neeed heeeelpppp

[Text: Detective] Okay important question, when are you gonna get home.. I need help with something

plz listen to my sherlock songs because my life is a joke

“As I Fall [Original Song]”

“Please, God, let me live
Let me fall and tell this tale.
Keep your eyes on me,
As I fall”

A song inspired by The Reichenbach Fall, viewing the Fall from Moriarty’s POV (verses), Sherlock’s POV (chorus), and John’s POV (bridge).

“Three Years Wait [Original Song]”

“And now he waits,
Accepting only the grave that you’ve made
He lies awake
The seconds pass, and he folds in his wings
Three years wait.”

A song telling a story about the aftermath of the Fall, Sherlock being the Angel and John being the Soldier. The end, however, is an AU sort of bit, and John ends his life, having trouble living life without his an Angel…

“Sherlock is Falling [Original song "The Doctor is Dying” by Chameleon Circuit]“

"The devil’s returning
A heart will be burning
A reichenbach hero, a fake, going under
Oh, Sherlock is falling
Oh, Sherlock is falling
Oh, Sherlock is falling
Oh, Sherlock is falling”

A song based from Chameleon Circuits “The Doctor is Dying”

I haven’t written any music in almost a year. I’d love to do a Sherlock type of album someday, and maybe I will, if people are interested. I just thought I’d share my fan-related songs with you guys c: Thank you for listening, if you did!

nuchamae  asked:

Prompt: Molly has always been there to keep Sherlock right and focus. She sees him in the way that no other sees. A tragic accident left Molly with no memories of their pasts. To her Sherlock is now a stranger... Thank you...looking forwards to reading your work. I really like your fic "The Admirer".

I was planning to keep this prompt-fill short. But as you are all aware by now, I never succeed. However, I really enjoyed exploring this prompt! Trying to come up with something original nearly killed me but wow, it was a challenge I relished. Thank you for the prompt and also for your kind words about ‘The Admirer’. I hope you enjoy this! x



Sherlock sat alone on one of the three black seats that lined the stark white corridor. It was an unearthly hour and thus deathly quiet. He was not a religious man but he found himself muttering, talking to himself as though uttering prayer. The words, though soft like whispers, escaped his lips fast and furiously.

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Okay, I really kinda suck with making the picture, but we’re not here for the picture. I’ve never done this before but I never had 400 people following me around before. Really, how did I manage to convince 400 people that I’m worth reading/stalking/posting with anyways?

So without further ado, let’s get this done.

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