sherlock as companion

Headphones (ficlet)

Before John, there’d been headphones.

In-ear headphones, black ones, blocking his auditory canal from at least part of the external noise.

(The internal noise had been enough, had been more than enough.)

Sherlock had worn them whenever he was outdoors as long as he wasn’t on a case, because cases had their own way of shutting off the endless shatter of everyday life all around him, and cases required him to be alert, to use all his senses to gather useful information.

That’s the crux, really.

Never knowing what’s important and what is not, Sherlock had erred on the side of safety, dismissing as much input as he could as ‘nonsense’, not wanting to clutter his mind and run the risk of not having the necessary space and focus for what really mattered.

So there’d been the headphones.

And then there’d been John.

John is nothing like modern composers or the subdued almost-silence of just using his in-ears without even bothering to put any music on. That had been means to an end, just something to drown out something else.

With John, it’s more about having a focus. A single fixed point in the soundscape of busy London streets and endless customer announcements in stores. John is more about not wanting to miss out, even when neither of them had said a word in twenty minutes.

Now, the headphones have become a tangle in the pocket of Sherlock’s Belstaff.

They’re still being used - John isn’t always with him when he goes out - but they’re no longer his constant companion, the one thing he relies on as a filter between him and the noise floor of things that wants to eat away at his brain.

The headphones hadn’t always been enough, and John isn’t always enough.

It’s a bit of a nervous habit, his fingers playing with the cord and the in-ear pieces in his pockets at all times, but especially so during the times when Sherlock wishes John hadn’t been there so he could just plug in his headphones and make the elevator music get dulled down to a tolerant level, or drowning out the screaming toddler by the bus stop.

He could, of course, still use his headphones even if John was with him. John might find it irritating to be so obviously shut out, but John is used to be ignored at times, even without the visible barrier of headphones. It’s just that Sherlock finds that he might want to endure certain things when John is there. It’s bearable, because he has something of a focus, something of slight interest in the outside world.

It had been unexpected, finding knots on the cords of his headphones.

But then John seems to be the cause and solution to many different kinds of tangles.

Finding the loose end and untangling Sherlock’s spinning thoughts with a single sentence at the end of cases.

Making Sherlock leave his headphones unused long enough to grow to become a tangle in his coat pocket.

Tangling Sherlock’s intestines and his unreliable, traitorous emotions with a single, ambiguous glance.

Before John, Sherlock hadn’t known the level of which he was willing to allow him himself to become entangled.

After a few months, Sherlock starts leaving his headphones in his pocket simply because sometimes he needs the outside clatter to drown out the noise John is causing inside his head.

I think other than the sexist wank what is pissing me off about the Doctor Who fandom is those fans pretending that Moffat did nothing to pave the way for this change when in the last few seasons he has most definitely taken on board all the criticism he faced initially and has gotten shit done, namely:

- Bringing in female writers and directors who he then chose to work repeatedly with not just in DW but in Sherlock too 
- Black LGBTQ companion
- Showing male Time Lords repeatedly regenerating into women (one of them into a black!! woman!! proving they can change gender AND race!)
- Giving Clara incredible agency not only in her death but in her posterior departure. 

But like whatever Moffat is the devil he has done absolutely nothing for the show to progress at all! LMAO ok. We get it, you hate him. You stopped watching when he came in. Apparently you also blanked out to everything good that he did to balance the bad out. 

To my (future) husband

You are the

 Han to my Leia

Originally posted by hexzell

Merry to my Pippin

Originally posted by sapphiresoftarth

John to my Sherlock

Originally posted by stayangry-staywoke

Companion to my Doctor

Originally posted by wholicec

Wash to my Zoe

Originally posted by filmusic

 Adama to my Roslin

Originally posted by the-adequategatsby

Mulder to my Scully

Originally posted by shlehpdc

Westley to my Buttercup

Originally posted by bastianpagez

Arthur to my Merlin

Originally posted by you-cant-escape-destiny

The Dean to my Sam

Originally posted by lookprettyliveclassyplaydirty

The Link to my Zelda

Originally posted by thedarkintolight

The Jareth to my Sarah

Originally posted by alilbitof-sunshine

Goku to my Chichi

Originally posted by dragonatics-saiyan

Natsu to my Happy

Originally posted by nao-tenho-medo-de-escuro

Thor to my Loki

Originally posted by short-haired-rapunzel

Minato to my Kushina

Originally posted by thegarnetpen

You Are my Always

Beloved Baker Street Chapter 1

Originally posted by sherlockjw

Summary: Sherlock voiced his deduction. “She’s from out of town though. Intended to stay only one night before returning to-”

“Cardiff.” Y/N finished, leaning against the doorframe.

Sherlock studied her for a moment in silence, eyes narrowed.

Y/N Hudson was the brilliant daughter of Mrs. Hudson, owner of 221 Baker Street. Returning to London to work as a forensic scientist and be closer to her mother, she never expected to be swept up into the whirlwind life of Sherlock Holmes…

“How is Pennsylvania? Are things going well?” Martha Hudson asked, her voice slightly distorted through the speaker of a phone.

Her daughter, Y/N, held the cell phone wedged in between her ear and her shoulder as she folded some newly laundered sweaters.

“Better than the lab back in Denver, I must say.” The young woman replied with a sigh. “I blame you and Papa you know, mum. I was raised to expect so much more action!” She laughed.

“Don’t remind me, dear. I hate to think on what your childhood was because of your father and me. Although I think I can say it was mostly your father.” The older woman lamented.

“Oh mama, I was only teasing. I turned out just fine.”

“Yes, well I think that was due to you, muffin, not anything that I did.”

Y/N smiled at the pet name she’d heard so often growing up. Y/N Hudson hadn’t seen her mother in person since right after her father had died, some years before. The young biochemist had flown out to London and spent a few days with her mother, repairing the relationship they had lost when Y/N left at 18 to go to school and get away from the “business” her father was involved in.

“Mama, I was thinking…maybe I should look for a job over there and come live in London. I know it’s a big change, but frankly, I hate my job here. Besides, I’ve been wanting to live closer to you for a while.” Y/N suggested, nervously playing with a lock of hair.

Over her 26 years, Y/N had had a complicated dynamic with her family. Her parents’ marriage was an ill-advised impulsive decision that neither could see lasting. Barely a year after Y/N came into the world, they moved to Florida. Her father, Frank, got in with a really bad crowd and eventually began to run a drug cartel. Mrs. Hudson didn’t know about his dealings until Y/N was in elementary school. By that point, she did her best to keep Y/N away from Frank, but the father wasn’t one to be separated entirely.

He taught the young child how to shoot a gun, and put her into self defense classes. He was a terrible man, but he cared about his child. During her adolescence, Y/N resented her mother’s choice to stay, determined to leave it all behind and become independent as soon as she possibly could.

Always intelligent and fascinated by science, Y/N was accepted to Reed College on a full scholarship. Belongings packed, and with all the money she had saved over the years, Y/N left. Her mother found a note the next day saying that Y/N was going to college. She assured Mrs. Hudson that she loved her, but she needed to make a new life for herself.

Y/N graduated top of her class with a major in biochemistry and a minor in history. At first, she worked in research, alongside dedicated scientists. Inevitably, the work was too dull for the quick minded young woman. Needing to work her brain, Y/N changed careers. Being a CSI fit her perfectly, but she still felt as though something was missing. She missed her mother.

“Really? That’s all I’ve wanted since you left for school, but I knew you needed to come back in your own time.” Mrs. Hudson said ecstatically.

“You wouldn’t happen to know if Scotland Yard is hiring, would you?” Y/N half-joked.

Keep reading

Annoying- Sherlock x reader

I’m Just gonna keep the one shots coming until i upade WOLF okay? I hope you guys enjoy this, and i hope you guys are having a good day :)

If anyone wants to be added to the tag list, Or if you have a request, don’t be afraid to pm me. ;


Originally posted by benedictc

Part 2

Y/n couldn’t stand the thought of Sherlock Holmes. There’s a lot of other things she would rather do than breathe in his direction. He is rude, insensitive and all round annoying, and just the sight of him makes her sick to her stomach. She honestly didn’t know what her older sister saw in him, he obviously uses false compliments and feelings to get his dirty work done.

And the man made it quite clear he didn’t want anything to do with her either. 

Y/n rolls her eyes as Sherlock walks into the lab, Molly trailing behind him like a lost puppy. And John came in a bit after, she had no problem with the Doctor, he’s nice, unlike his companion.
Sherlock scowls upon seeing the girl sitting at a desk, but she was too busy peering into a microscope to be bothered with him. Her e/c eyes meet his for a moment before she went back to the microscope. “Did you get the blood results yet Molly?” Sherlock asks, turning to look down at the shorter woman who shakes her head. “I wasn’t here when it came in, Y/n was working on it.” she answers, nodding to her sister. Without a word, Y/n raises a small vile that held the blood of some bloke from a crime scene and a note with the details because she had absolutely no intentions of talking to Holmes. John walks over and takes it from her, since it was clear that Sherlock wasn’t going to move, “Thanks.” he says and the girl smiles, “No worries John,”
Sherlock rolls his eyes at the sound of her voice, turning around and briskly walking out.
John chuckles as he fall in step with the taller male, Sherlock looks over to him, “What?” he questions, which only makes John laugh. “You know Sherlock, for a man who notices everything, you really don’t.”
“What are you talking about John?” Sherlock asks, his confusion showing as his brow creases. “Honestly? You honestly don’t know?” John shakes his head, leaving the detective to figure it out on his own. Sometimes certain things are so obvious that even the smartest person could miss it.
Back at the lab, Molly stood, watching her younger sister carefully, “Why don’t you like him?” she asks and Y/n sighs, looking up at her sister, “What a funny question.” she muses, “Let me ask you one, Why do you allow him to play you like that?”
Molly blinks at her younger sister, unable to actually answer her. They both know why, it’s not like she needed to answer. Y/n nods, “Right. I don’t like him because I don’t. Simple.” She gets off the stool she was sitting on, pulling off her lab coat, “I’m heading out for lunch, need anything?” Molly shakes her head and Y/n leaves without another word.
Y/n sighs, glad to be out of the lab, breathing in the fresh London air. For once she’s not surround by chemicals and junk, she goes to a nearby cafe to buy a few muffins for herself and Molly, despite her sister’s protests. A lot can be done in a half an hour, so the girl takes a walk before heading back to Bart’s.


It was late and Y/n was still at the lab, getting some last minute research done. Molly had offered to stay back and help but, she’s been working non stop since morning and she’s needs to rest so Y/n declined.
She was taking notes when someone walked in, she looks up from her small note pad. “Sam… hey.” she fakes a small smile as her ex boyfriend walks to her, stopping to lean against the desk she was sitting at. “I came to see you.”
“I thought we agreed that I don’t see your face?”
Sam crosses his arms over his chest, seemingly getting comfortable, much to Y/n’s annoyance. Sam’s grey eyes look up at the ceiling in thought before looking back at the girl, “Yeah, well I changed my mind.”
Y/n blinks, “Yeah well, change your mind again and walk out. I have work to do.” she says annoyed, looking down at her notes again. She hears Sam sigh, and in a second he grabs her wrist, twisting her arm. “I don’t think so.”
Y/n gasps in pain, glaring up at him, “Let go.” she says through gritted teeth, but of course, it only seemed to amuse him. Flashes of memory comes to her mind of when they were together, it wasn’t a happy relationship and things usually went south. Until she broke it off, but as faith have it, they worked in the same bloody building.
That’s why she refuses to allow herself to like any guy, her image of a good man flew out the window since Sam. So she didn’t allow anyone to get close, she remained detached.
“I really think you should listen to her.” A deep baritone voice comes from by the door and Sam drops her hand and turns around. “Mr Holmes.” he says, eyeing down the detective. Y/n keeps her eyes glued to her notepad, of course it had to be him, Sherlock Holmes is just the person she needs to see right now. Sam walks to the taller male, standing right in front of him.
Sherlock raises an eyebrow, looking the man over, then his eyes flicker to Y/n. “You should leave.” Sherlock warns, narrowing his eyes at Sam. The man smiles, chuckling at Sherlock, he takes two steps and that was all it took. Sherlock puts his hand near the man’s neck, putting a tight hold on the pressure point between his collar bone and his upper shoulder. Spinning him around, he kicks the back of his knee, forcing the man down, allowing Sherlock to bang Sam’s head against the counter.
Sherlock straightens out his coat as Sam lays unconscious on the floor. He crosses over him and walks to where Y/n was sitting watching him with raised eyebrows. “Wow, okay…”
“Are you alright?” he asks, motioning to her wrist where a bruise had blossomed, and she nods speechlessly.
Did Sherlock Holmes just defend me?
“Uh, yes. I am.” she says, rubbing her wrist tenderly. Sherlock nods, reaching into his coat pocket, he pulls out a small packet with some sort of dirt. “I came analyse this.”
“Yeah sure.”
He moves away from her, going to where he’d normally sit, emptying the dirt into a Petri dish. I should probably - “Thanks for that,” Y/n says, her eyes still in her notepad, she didn’t want to look at him, because he’d easily see.
Of course he could’ve deduced it a long time ago, or not. It’s not that she doesn’t like him, he’s annoying yes but, she does have a soft spot for him. It’s Molly, she loves her sister too much to let some man get in the way of their bond. If she were to act on her impulses, she’d hurt Molly, and that’s something she couldn’t live with, she’d rather lose a chance at a boyfriend than lose her sister.
“You’re welcome.”

Tag List: @cutie1365 @dontstoptime @fandomlover03@morganschiebel @mrsdeanwinchester15 @justanaturalfreakshow@et2310 @suvikamahes98blr @thedumbestravenclaw@alphaspiritrose @broken-soul-crystal @sherlockfan4life @naughtylittlefire 


A/N: The first chapter will be posted tomorrow!


You frustratingly ran your fingers through your hair whilst marking some papers that your students had submitted. A knock on the door broke you away from your correcting.

You glanced up and raised a brow at two smart looking men standing by the threshold “Yes?” You asked and turned in your chair.

The men took this as an invitation to come into your classroom “Sorry to disturb you Ma'am but if I may introduce myself, I’m John Watson and this is my companion, Sherlock Holmes…” John trailed off and you narrowed your eyes.

“Holmes? The detective who wears the funny hat?” You asked with amusement in your voice. “Well what can I do for you gentlemen?” You asked getting straight to the point.

“A colleague of yours highly recommended you Miss Y/L/N” Sherlock spoke up.

Your face was riddled with confusion and your nose scrunched “Colleague?” You asked standing up and walking over to the window to open it “I don’t work with anyone”.

Sherlock and John sent a look to one another before John piped up “He said that he worked with you about two years ago…something to do with artefacts and South America and Nazis?”

You froze and lightly shut your eyes, letting out a huff of irritation as you spat the name of your so-called colleague “Indy…” You opened your eyes again and turned to two men with a fake smile “Doctor Henry ‘Indiana’ Jones is most certainly not my colleague…pain in the arse however…” you quietly spoke the last part to yourself.

“Forgive us ma'am,” John apologised “We must have misinterpreted him. However, he has highly recommended you-”

“For what exactly?” You asked raising a suspicious brow, nothing good was going to come out of something Indy put you forward for.

Sherlock stepped forward “An expedition of course”.

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

@adorablebadger @musingsofophelia @damnitman-jamlocked-inthetardis @holmes-maev @rikkachloechan @lock-sherlock @katie27hp @wcsteland @daynaan

  • “I really cannot congratulate you.”
  • I’m afraid, John, I can’t congratulate you.”
  • “But, as I’m apparently your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion.”

The first quote is from “The Sign of Four”, the others are as you all know from “The Sign of Three”. 

In the first Holmes refers to Watson marrying Mary Morstan, followed by the whole stuff about marriage being detrimental to brain work, true cold reason, etc.. In the second Sherlock refers to John choosing to marry at all (which is a direct reference to Canon and Holmes’s attitude towards the institution of marriage per se). In the third, however, Sherlock refers to John having chosen Sherlock as his companion. 

Which means that, once again, Sherlock directly equates himself with the bride. Choosing companions, congratulations, all this does indeed refer to a marriage and not to a non-romantic friendship between men. 

Back to Canon where Holmes says: “But love is an emotional thing, and whatever is emotional is opposed to that true cold reason which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgment.” Now in ACD’s time love and especially marriage referred to relationships between men and women. Which, translated, could well mean that Holmes does not want to love a woman and marry her because it would bias his judgment. This from a man living together with another man who is his conductor of light …  

Superwholock Extravaganza: Eleventh Doctor Edition

Gif not mine

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x Reader

Content/Warnings: fluff; angst

Set post Sherlock’s fall

Words: 3856

A/N: Part 3 of my Supernatural Extravaganza is here! I hope you all are enjoying this miniseries, as I’m having fun with it. The last pairing will be with Sherlock, so stay tuned!

One word drabbles are open!

Episode 3: Itsy-Bitsy Spider

“So, where should we go?” The Doctor asked enthusiastically, bounding around the TARDIS console. Sometimes you wondered if the man ever got tired, with how much energy he always had. “Earth, alien, past, future, what do you say?”

“Surprise me,” You said to him with a smile, legs dangling back and forth from where you sat on the railing. “Are we going to get Amy and Rory?”

“I figured this one could just be the two of us! Is that okay?” He asked with a dazzling smile.

You sent him a matching one in return. “Of course! I love spending time with you.”

“Oh, brilliant!” He said, somehow getting even happier as he turned back to the console. “I know just where to go! Here, pull that lever!”

You hopped off the rail, pulling the one he pointed to. “Do I get to know where we’re going?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” The Doctor said as the TARDIS settled. “Now, just close your eyes and -”

Ring. Ring. Ring.

You blinked. “Is that the phone?”

“Why yes, I do believe it is!” He said. “Probably just Amy, I’m sure she left something on the TARDIS again. Hello!” His eyebrows quickly drew downwards, and you had known him long enough to know what that meant. Someone was in trouble. “What? No, no, we weren’t doing anything very important. We’ll be right there.” He hung up the phone and clapped his hands together. “So, Y/N, bad news. We’re going to have to go on a surprise adventure some other day, there’s a bit of an emergency in London. Bit ahead of your time, this London, but unfortunately you’re not allowed to get the new iPhone.”

“I didn’t want -” You sighed. “Never mind. Who was it, anyways?”

“An old friend!” The Doctor said happily. “You’ve never met him, but he’s really quite brilliant. Almost as smart as me, and twice as observant!”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” You said with a smile as the Doctor pulled levers and pushed buttons around the console. “Who is it?”

“Only the most famous detective to ever live!” The Doctor said, giving your nose a tap as he went by. “Sherlock Holmes, of course!”

“Who’s Sherlock Holmes?” You asked, scrunching up your eyebrows. “I mean, he sounds familiar, but…”

“Oh! Right, you came aboard a bit before his rise to fame.” The Doctor twiddled his fingers upwards for effect. “Really, brilliant, a bit rude though! Rude, but brilliant. Brude? Rilliant?”

“Doctor?” You interrupted, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’m sure he’s waiting.”

Keep reading

The Sh(erl)ock

Summary: Sherlock breaks into his brother’s house. But he didn’t expect someone else to be there.

A/N: I saw some picture and caption was saying something like ‘Imagine: Sherlock breaks into Mycroft’s house, but he see Lestrade instead of his brother’. I can’t find it, but yeah, it’s not fully my idea lmao


- Oh my Lord, Sherlock, no. You can’t go - John said with a sigh. Mr Watson was standing in the threshold, his hands on the doorframe, as he tried to stop Holmes from… whatever Holmes wanted to do.

- I don’t care if you say ‘no’, John. Let me go or I’ll jump out of the window - Sherlock said with serious tone. And he actually walked toward the window.

- At least tell me what’s happening. Or let me go with you - John wanted to yell. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to wake up anyone in the hotel. 

- Not this time. I have to do it alone. You would be too loud with your incessant questions - Holmes stopped and suddenly turned around. John rolled his eyes.

 - Okay. Now, move.

- Well, let me think… NO. - John said distinctly. His raised voice was like incentive for Sherlock to continue.

- I can easily move you out of my way with three movements. Don’t make me use my movements on you, John - Sherlock tried to sound like serious adult, but instead he was like angry child. Watson just snorted.

- For God’s sake, Sherlock. It’s 4 am and you didn’t sleep at all.

- You know I can be fully…

- Yes, I know you can think and work without any sleep, but as your doctor I’m saying you should finally go to bed - Watson cut him off, before Sherlock’s big words left his mouth. 

- I won’t. I have to go - Holmes’ eyes had the fire in them. And this fire was bigger and bigger. Something told John it wasn’t good idea to stop Sherlock now. Watson slowly moved to the side. He felt as if Sherlock would attack him in any moment. And when John was no longer standing on his way, Holmes stormed out from his hotel room.  

John breathed out slowly. For second he thought he would die right there and then. What was so important? Of course, Sherlock was outside in the weirdest hours, but he never was like that before. Something was that important to him.

Sherlock was walking fast. He was almost running, almost flying. 'I should hurry’ he thought to himself. This was his chance. His brother wasn’t home for sure, he had important meeting tomorrow and knowing Mycroft, he was already on his way to airport.

Sherlock looked both ways. Nothing. He slowly made his way to the front door. He crouched in front of them and easily picked a lock. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Silence. 

With quick and quiet steps, he walked toward the stairs. One or two steps creaked, but that’s all. Darkness wasn’t his enemy too. He knew this house, so if someone else was here, he would disappear immediately. He didn’t want to be caught, didn’t he? But he didn’t hear anything else, but his own breath and steps.

Now he just had to find the room he was looking for. Wasn’t so easy. Mycroft knew Sherlock, so he knew how he was thinking. He could hide informations about him anywhere. Yes, Sherlock broke into his brother’s house just to steal every information Mycroft had about him.

So he tried to not think like himself. What would his brother do? Where would he find it? Mycroft’s bedroom? His living room? Kitchen maybe? 

Soon Sherlock gave up. He didn’t want to admit that he had no clue where these informations could be. So he started to look for them. He opened first door, second, third… But he couldn’t find anything. 

Usually he was quiet, in case someone was sitting somewhere in the house. But he was desperate for these informations and he didn’t felt it, when he pulled the door too hard. They closed with loud bang. Sherlock was immediately frozen. He stood there for few seconds, but everything was as silent as before. So he walked into another room. 

He was sitting on the floor, next to the cabinet full of papers and he was searching through them. His mind was directed just on finding the informations. So when someone stand in the door and cleared their throat, Sherlock almost jumped up with fear. He looked up and shock was immediately all over him.

- What are you doing here? - he asked Sherlock, but detective was just sitting there with no idea what to say. It wasn’t happening often, Holmes always knew what to say. But now? Nothing. HIs mind was empty and his jaw all over the floor. In other words: he was frozen with shock. - Hello? What are you doing here, Sherlock?

- I was just… I was looking for something - Holmes finally choked out. 

- Okay, wait - he pulled out phone from his pajamas’ pocket. He chose the number and they both waited.

- Hey. What’s wrong? - Mycroft’s voice sounded like exploding grenade for Sherlock.

- Nothing, just… Sherlock is here.

- Why? 

- I don’t know, ask him.

- Sherlock, why are you in my house? - Mycroft’s tone changed. From soft and warm to cool and bitter. 

- I was looking for the informations - Sherlock said quietly, still shocked. He just couldn’t say it louder. He lost it when he saw who was standing in the threshold.

- What did he say? - Mycroft asked, clearly irritated.

- He said he was looking for the informations.

- God. I knew he’s and idiot, but I didn’t realise he’s that dumb… - Mycroft sighed. - They are in my bedroom, under my clothes. Get them for him. Don’t let him even into our bedroom.

- Okay, okay. Take care of yourself.

- Of course. I’ll be back in two days. See you - with that words Mycroft hung up.  

- Wait here, I’ll bring you these informations. You put back these papers back into the cabinet - he said and left. Sherlock just stood up, threw papers on the floor, walked out from the room and closed the door.

He was back in one minute and fourty two seconds. He handed papers to Sherlock and crossed his arms on his chest.

- Next time just ask your brother for whatever you want from him - he rolled his eyes. - Close the door behind you. I’m going back to bed. See you in the morning probably.

With that he turned around and walked away. Sherlock didn’t know how or when he got back to hotel. He didn’t saw John sitting on the chair with angry expression. He didn’t hear John’s questions. His mind was still in Mycroft’s house and HE was standing there. 

- Hey, Sherlock, what’s wrong? - Watson asked concerned. Sherlock was holding some papers, but he didn’t even look at them. Holmes was looking through the window with an empty expression. John’s phone did his 'buzzbuzz’ thing, so Watson opened the message. - Sherlock - he said with very serious and almost angry tone. - Why the hell Lestrade asks me to check on you? And why is he assuming you’re in shock?

- He was there - Sherlock blinked a few times. He clenched his teeth and put papers on the table. Then he turned around to John. - I went to Mycroft’s house for information he had about me. I didn’t notice… No, I did, but I didn’t want to see it. Someone else was in the house. Someone else is spending time there with my brother.

- So… What you’re saying is…

- Yes, John - Sherlock looked at his companion, who was in bigger shock than him earlier. - Lestrade was there, in pyjamas. He was sleeping in Mycroft’s bed. With Mycroft.

Gift from the Heart

A birthday gift for @theresadunn! Sherlock tries to figure out the perfect gift for Molly on her birthday. Post TFP.

               Sherlock was at a loss for the first time in his life. He had been wracking his brain for months. Nothing seemed good enough. Molly’s birthday was in three days and he still hadn’t figured out the perfect gift for her. He should know what to get for her; after all, they were the best of friends. Sherlock felt lucky in that after Sherrinford, their friendship grew stronger rather than dwindled. They knew of each other’s feelings, but never got around to acting on them.

               Maybe she’d like a chemistry set of her own? Or perhaps some extensively researched medical journals? He groaned in frustration, his head falling into his hands.

               “You alright, mate?” John asked.

               “It’s useless, John,” Sherlock sighed. “I can’t figure out what to get for Molly and I’ve been trying for months. Everything I’ve thought of seems too materialistic.”

               “Well, if these past few months have taught me anything, it’s that you have a heart, Sherlock. So, for the first time in your bloody life, use it,” John told him.

               “Brilliant,” Sherlock muttered.

               “Excuse me, what?” John questioned with surprise. Sherlock said nothing and walked out the door and into the street to hail a cab.

Keep reading


Hello Detective (Chapter 17)

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

You all made it back to Sherlock’s flat where all the books were still stacked.

“They’ll be back in China by tomorrow.” John said as Sherlock took of his coat and scarf.

“No they won’t leave without what they came for. We need to find their hideout. A rendezvous. Somewhere in this message it must tell us.” Sherlock said, running his hand over the pictures on the wall.

“Well, I think perhaps I should leave you to it.” Sarah said awkwardly

“No, you don’t have to go. You can stay.” John said at the same time as Sherlock said, “Yes, it’d be better if you left now.”

“He’s kidding please stay if you’d like.” John said, covering up for Sherlock’s behavior.

“Is it just me or is anyone else starving?” Sarah asked nicely.

“Oh, God.” Sherlock groaned. You stepped on his foot forcefully to shut him up. “Ow.” He whispered while giving you a dirty look. You glared back.

John went to the kitchen to look for some food. You knew there was never anything in that fridge but body parts. Sherlock sat down at his desk and began looking through all the evidence again. You stood next to him and did the same. Sarah was roaming around the sitting room, inspecting everything.

“So this is what you do. You solve puzzles for a living.” Sarah asked.

“Consulting detective.” Sherlock corrected her rudely.

“Oh. And you too.” She asked me.

“No, I actually work for Scotland Yard.” You said smiling.

“What are these squiggles?” Sarah asked, now standing on the other side of Sherlock, pointing down to the pictures.

“They’re numbers. An ancient Chinese dialect.” Sherlock said, his patience wearing thin.

“Oh, right. Well, of course I should have known that.” Sarah said. Sarah picked up one of the papers and Sherlock looked as if he was going to blow a gasket. You squeezed his arm highly and shook your head. Silently telling him to behave.

“So these numbers, it’s a cipher?” Sarah asked.

“Exactly.” Sherlock said through gritted teeth.

“And each pair of numbers is a word?” She said again. The two of you looked at her, extremely surprised.

“How did you know that?” You asked.

“Well. two words have already been translated, here.” She said pointing to the picture that we had brought to Soo Lin and Dimmock must have brought back from the museum.

“Soo Lin must have started to translate the code for us. We didn’t see it. ‘Nine’ ‘mill’.” He read.

“Nine million quid. For what?” You asked.

“We need to know the end of this sentence. Ugh the museum, the restoration room. We must have been staring right at it.” He groaned as he slipped on his coat.

“At what?” John asked, emerging from the kitchen.

“The book John, the book. The key to cracking the cipher. Soo Lin used it to do this. Whilst we were running around the gallery, getting shot at. She started to translate the code. It must be on her desk.” Sherlock yelled as he ran out of the flat.

“He’s certainly something else, isn’t he.” Sarah stated. You smiled and nodded.

Suddenly a phone buzzed and interrupted your thoughts. It was Sarah’s, she read it quickly.

“Oh hell. It’s the hospital. I’m so sorry, one of my patients has gone into labor.” She said, scurrying to get her things. After some goodbyes she left the flat.

“Are you hungry?” John asked.

“Actually yeah.” You answered.

“I’ll order takeaway.” He stated and walking into the kitchen to get the phone.

You tried to clear the table a little while John ordered some food. After a couple minutes you heard a knock at the door. You were taking off your jacket as John went downstairs to get it.You heard a bang downstairs.

“John, is everything okay?” You asked, standing up. The moment you turned around you saw him. Zhi Zhu. You made a move for your gun but he was too quick. He pulled his arm back and his gun made contact with your head, knocking you out cold.

You woke up to the sound of a woman’s voice, it was one you recognized. Your head was pounding and your wrists were burning.

“A book is like a magic garden, carried in your pocket.” She said, as your eyes focused in the dark room you recognized her to be the woman from the circus. To your right was John, tied to a chair just like you. But you had a gag in your mouth, he didn’t. The ropes were digging into your wrists and you groaned from the pain in your head. You could feel the blood dried to the side of your face from being pistol whipped.

“Chinese proverb Mr. Holmes.” She said to John. You were sure you heard her right, she called John by Sherlock’s name.  He looked about as confused as you were.

“I’m not… I’m not Sherlock Holmes.” He argued.

“Forgive me if I do not take your word for it.” She said, reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket to get his wallet. He groaned in pain.

“Debit card, name of S Holmes.” You remembered Sherlock telling you a few days ago how John had gotten in a row with a machine at the store so he gave him his card.

“Yes, that’s not actually mine. He lent that to me.” John tried.

“And a check for 5,000 pounds made out in the name of Mr. Sherlock Holmes.” She said. You were the one who gave that to John to look after.

“Yeah, he gave me that to look after.” John said.

“Tickets from the theatre collected by you, name of Holmes.” She said. Sherlock was the one who booked the tickets. This was all just a huge misunderstanding. But yet here we are, kidnapped in the Black Lotus hideout.

“ I realise what this looks like. But I’m not him.” John said.

“We heard it from your own mouth. I am Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone.” She said. They must have been following us. John said that, mocking Sherlock, when he left the two of us outside at Soo Lin’s flat.

“Did I really say that? I suppose there’s no use me trying to persuade you I was doing an impression.” John began until the woman pulled out a small gun and pointed it at his head.You tried to yell ‘Stop’ but it just came out as muffled noise.

“I am Shan.” She said, John shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the gun was still pointed at his head. “Three times we tried to kill you and your companion, Mr. Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin misses?” She said. ‘Misses!’ You tried to yell again. Hot metal slicing open your skin isn’t quite the same as missing. She smiled a creepy smile at you when she understood what you were trying to yell. She cocked her gun and slowly pulled the trigger. You squeezed your eyes together tightly, waiting for the sound, but it never came. The gun let out a quiet click, telling us it wasn’t loaded.

“It tells you that they’re not really trying.” She cooed. John and I let out a sigh of relief. She then proceeded to load the magazine into the gun. “Not blank bullets now. If we wanted to kill you, Mr. Holmes, we would have done it by now. We just wanted to make you inquisitive.Do you have it?

“Do I have what?” John asked, confused.

“The treasure.” She stated calmly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I would prefer to make certain..” This whole time you had been so worried about John that you neglected to look right in front of you. Then you did, that was your mistake. In front of you was the same large, wooden, crossbow seen in tonight’s show. When Shan unveiled it tears escaped your eyes. You tried to wiggle free but the robes wouldn’t budge.

“Everything in the West has its price. And the price for her life, information.” Shan said to John. Two men came and picked up your chair from the sides. They placed you right in front of the crossbow, so you were looking down the barrel, so to speak.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” John kept repeating as you cried and tried to yell.

“Where’s the hairpin? The Empress pin valued at nine million sterling?” Shan said. All you could think about was that arrow piercing through you.”We already had a buyer in the West, and then one of our people was greedy, he took it, brought it back to London, and you Mr. Holmes have been searching.”

“Please, please. Listen to me. I’m not Sherlock Holmes. You have to believe me I haven’t found whatever it is you’re looking for .” John pleaded.

“I need a volunteer from the audience.” Shan yelled.

“No, please, please!” John yelled.

“Ah, thank you, lady. Yes, you’ll do very nicely.” Shan said approaching you. You continued to wiggle, scream, and try to break free. All the while tears were streaming down your face. Shan pulled out her dagger and pierced the sandbag just as she had done in the show.

“Ladies and gentlemen, from the distant moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure, Sherlock Holmes’ pretty companion in a death-defying act.”

“Please!” John yelled once more.

Shan pulled an origami Lotus out of her pocket and placed it onto your lap. It was the same one found at Soo Lin’s death, the same we pulled out of Van Coon’s throat. They all meant the same thing. Death.

“You’ve seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends.” Shan said, but all you wanted to do was ram your fist into her smug little face.

“I’m not Sherlock Holmes!” John yelled.

“I don’t believe you.” Shan yelled back.

“You should, you know.” A voice came from behind you as more tears spilled down your face.The weight was lowering closer and closer to the bowl, but you didn’t want him to see this.”Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him. How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?”

“Late…” John sighed.

“That’s a semi-automatic. If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over 1,000 metres per second. The radius curvature of these walls is nearly four metres. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you.” Sherlock spoke.

You felt the robes at your back being tugged. Then you realized Sherlock was behind you trying to untie them. As you turned around to look at him you saw Zhi Zhu strangling Sherlock with the red silks from the show. You turned back to the crossbow to see John scooting his chair closer and closer to it. He was so close before he fell to his side. The weight was an inch from the bowl. You closed your eyes, knowing what was to come.

You heard the sound of the crossbow release.

You opened your eyes slowly to the scene around you. John was lying on his side, still tied to the chair. The crossbow was turned to the side. Zhi Zhu laid on the floor with the arrow deeply imbedded in him. Sherlock was behind you, trying to untangle himself from the silk. Shan was running down the corridor, never to be seen again.

As Sherlock threw the silks off of him he bent down to untie you. Your heart was pumping so hard.

“It’s all right. You’re going to be all right. It’s over now.” Sherlock said softly. He removed the gag from your mouth and moved in front of you to help you stand up. He grabbed both of your hands and gently lead you to your feet. You wrapped your arms around him and held on tight. When you released he brought his hands to your cheek to wipe your tears. While his hand still rested on your cheek, you boldly placed yours on the back of his head. You ran your fingers through his curls and pressed your lips to his. He seemed surprised at first, but after a second he kissed you back. You slowly pulled away.

“Thank you for saving my life.” You whispered. He smiled, his eyes full of compassion.

Sherlock called Dimmock and his team to tell him we had found the Black Lotus’ hideout. They were there within a few minutes. Sherlock took of his coat and placed it around your bare arms.

“We’ll just slip off. No need to mention us in your report.” Sherlock said to Dimmock.

“Mr. Holmes…” Dimmock began, but Sherlock cut him off.

“I have high hopes for you, Inspector. A glittering career.” Sherlock said, beginning to walk off.

“I go where you point me.” Dimmock said.

“Exactly.” Sherlock said, joining you.

When we made it to a cab Sherlock read us the cipher. Nine mill for jade pin, dragon den black tramway. He said it was instructions for all their London operatives. A message. What they were trying to reclaim. When the cabbie stopped in front of your flat, Sherlock insisted that he go in with you, just to make sure you’re okay.

You unlocked the door to your flat and had a strong urge to just fall into bed. You hadn’t slept in it for days. Some kind of vacation this was. You took off Sherlock’s large coat and hung it up on the rack next to the door.

“Would you like some tea?” You asked him.

“Sure.” He smiled.

“Great. There’s the kitchen.” You pointed and smirked. He laughed and got up and made two cups of tea.

“I’m going to take a quick shower. Make yourself at home, turn on the TV.” You suggested as you stepped into your room. After a quick shower you examined the wound on your head. You have never been pistol whipped before. Definitely wasn’t fun. You decided that it wasn’t deep enough to require stitches, just a butterfly bandage would do. You could tell a bruise was starting to form under it, fun.

After slipping on some grey sweatpants like shorts and a pink tanktop you re joined Sherlock in the living room.  He was shouting things abusively at the TV.

You smiled and sat next to him on the couch. He handed you your cup of tea, along with two pills.

“Take these. It will help with the pain,” He said, you thanked him and took the pills. You sat next to him for a few hours and watched TV. You laughed at how petty and uneducated they were. Keeping Up with the Kardashians seemed to be the only thing on, but it was fun to make fun of them. Soon you fell asleep on Sherlock’s shoulder. He lifted you off the couch and placed you in your bed. Your eyes fluttered open as he pulled the blankets over you.

“Sherlock…” You whispered as he was leaving the room, he turned around at the sound of your voice.

“Please stay,” you said, placing your hand on the open place on your king sized bed, “I just, don’t want to be alone tonight.”

He nodded, clearly he was tired too. He slipped off his shoes and crawled under the covers. You fell asleep only minutes later, but you felt safer with him by your side.

Hours had passed just fine, until you started to have a nightmare. You could see the weight lowering into the bowl, but this time, it wasn’t you in front of the crossbow, it was Sherlock. You were tied up across from him, Shan holding a gun to your head. As the weight hit the bowl and the arrow made contact with Sherlock’s body you jolted away, a scream escaped your lips. Your breathing was heavy and you noticed you had woken Sherlock up too.

“Hey, shh. It was just a dream. Everything’s fine. I’m right here.” Sherlock whispered, wrapping his arms around you as tears escaped your lips.

“Promise you’ll never leave me.” You cried.

“I promise. I could never leave you.” He said, rubbing soothing circles into your back. He pulled you down, your head resting on his chest. You fell asleep with his arms wrapped around you.

The next morning you woke up, alone in your bed. Your heart sunk until you heard clanging in the kitchen. You crawled out of bed and wrapped your robe around you. You saw Sherlock in the kitchen with his hair a mess and his sleeves rolled up. You smiled at the sight.

“Goodmorning.” You smiled as you saw him cooking.

“Ah, she lives.” He joked. He turned around the handed you a cup of tea.

“Thank you. I didn’t know you cooked.” You said.

“I don’t usually. My kitchen is a little messy.” He smiled.

“Of course. Now don’t get any ideas about sticking eyeballs in my microwave. I’d like to get my security deposit back someday. I don’t need you blowing things up in here.” You smirked and sipped your tea.

“We’ll have to go back to the bank today.” Sherlock stated. You nodded and ate your breakfast.

You slipped into a simple black sleeveless dress with white trim around the bottom. Accompanied with some small white heel you were ready to go. Luckily your wound was easily covered by your hair.

As you were walking out the door, you thanked Sherlock again for everything. For saving your life, for breakfast, for staying.

“Two operatives based in London.” Sherlock began as he helped you out of the cab. “They travel over to Dalian to smuggle those vases. One of them helps himself to something, a little hairpin.”

“Worth nine million pounds.” You added.

“Eddie Van Coon was the thief he stole the treasure when he was in China.” Sherlock said.

“How do you know it wasn’t Lukis? Even the killer didn’t know that.” You asked.

“Because of the soap.” Sherlock stated with a smile on his face.

We made it back up to the trading floor to see Van Coon’s secretary. Sherlock had come to see her before while you had gone to get Lukis’ journal from Dimmock.

“He brought you a present.” Sherlock said as we walked through the door.

“Oh, hello.” She said, remembering him.

“A little gift when he came back from China.”

“How do you know that?” She asked.

“You weren’t just his PA were you?” Sherlock asked.

“Someone’s been gossiping.” She said, annoyed.

“No.” sherlock stated.

“Then I don’t understand why…” Amanda, the PA, began.

“Scented hand soap in his apartment, 300 millilitres of it. Bottle almost finished.” Sherlock stated

“Sorry?” Amanda asked, confused.

“I don’t think Eddie Van Coon was the kind of chap to buy himself handsoap, not unless he had a lady coming over. And it’s the same brand as that hand cream there on your desk.” Sherlock said.

“Look, it wasn’t serious between us. It was over in a flash, it couldn’t last. He was my boss.” Amanda explained.

“What happened? Why did you end it?” You asked.

“I thought he didn’t appreciate me. Took me for granted. Stood me up once too often. We’d plan to go away for the weekend, and then he’d just leave. Fly off to China at a moment’s notice.”

“And he brought you a present from abroad to say sorry.” Sherlock said. You noticed the jade pin sticking out of her bun.

“Can I just have a look at it.” Sherlock asked, extending his hand.

“He said he bought it in a street market.” Amanda explained as she took it out of her hair.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s true. I think he pinched it.” Sherlock said.

“Yeah, that’s Eddie.” Amanda laughed.

“Didn’t know its value, just thought it would suit you.” Sherlock turned it around in his hand.

“What’s it worth?” Amanda asked curiously. Sherlock smiled, knowing his reply would shock her.

“Nine million pounds.” He said, and as expected Amanda freaked out.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” She said, standing up. “Nine million.” She nearly fainted.

You snuck out of the office to go talk to Sebastian, as instructed by Sherlock. He stood when you walked in the room and shook your hand.

“So did you two manage to figure out how he got in?” Sebastian asked.

“Of course. The balcony. “ You smiled.

He wrote out the check, annoyingly. The answer was so simple he was almost angry about all the money its cost him.

“He really climbed up onto the balcony?” He asked, placing the 20,000 pound check into an envelope.

“Nail a plank across the window and all your problems are over.” You answered with a smile.

He rolled his eyes and smiled slightly as he handed it to you. You thanked him and left to go join Sherlock in the lobby.

Sherlock hailed a taxi for the two of you to return to Baker Street. You told John about what had transpired at the bank.

“Over a thousand years old, and it’s sitting on her bedside table every night.” John said.

“He didn’t know its value. Didn’t know why they were chasing him.”Sherlock said.

“Should’ve just got her a lucky cat.” John said, causing you and Sherlock to smile.

“You mind don’t you.” John said, peaking both of your interests.

“What?” Sherlock asked.

“That she escaped. General Shan. It’s not enough that we got her two henchmen.”

“Must be a vast network, John. Thousands of operatives. We barely scratched the surface.” Sherlock said.

“You cracked the code though, Sherlock. And maybe Dimmock can track down all of them now that he knows it.” John suggested.

“Sherlock cracked this code, but all the smugglers have to do is pick up another book.” You told him.

Sherlock sat at his desk, reading the paper. John sat opposite him doing the same. For once it seemed like Baker Street was calm. No murders, no gunfire, no explosions going on in the kitchen. It almost seemed too good to be true.