sherlock holmes ask

anonymous asked:

Sherlock says he's married to Molly as part of an undercover role for a case, but someone overhears, takes it as literal and spreads it to the papers. (Sherlolly)

So Nonny, your fic ended up becoming a multipart fic that I picked to write for @simplyshelbs16xoxo to cheer her up. I will try really really hard to update this more frequently than I do most of my fics, I swear! But for now, here is Part 1 with Sherlock and Mary, setting up the “fake marriage being spread to the papers as a real marriage” part.”

It Can Be As Real As You Or I (Part 1/?) - At the very beginning of a case to help Janine, it comes out that the very eligible and spectacular stud in the bedroom Sherlock Holmes has married local specialist registrar, Dr. Molly Hooper. Which would be fine and all, except it’s a fake marriage. That Sherlock wants to make real by the end of the case. But Kitty Riley’s constant hounding of him throughout the case, turning every tidbit she hears (always out of context) into tabloid fodder, is going to make that virtually impossible, he fears…though he might very well be surprised himself.

Read Chapter 1 @ AO3 | Buy Me A Coffee? | Send Me A Prompt

“So she’s agreed?” Mary asked, sipping her tea at the cafe that she and Sherlock were sitting at. He supposed that she dragged him out in public so that they both had some semblance of a social life, though he didn’t mind too much. Truth be told he quite enjoyed her company, whether he was using her as a partner in case solving or helping her take care of Rosie or anything, really. It was a bit different these days, but he supposed that was to be expected after the incident at the aquarium where she had almost lost her life.

John had been so filled with grief, so sure he was going to lose her, and they had stood there, and then he had snapped out of it, the way John had snapped him out of it with the young guard in the showers, gotten down to the business of saving Mary’s life. Admittedly it had been touch and go for a time; the shot had not been nearly as neat as Mary’s own shot to him had been, and there had been more than one moment where they had thought they might lose her. But Mary had things worth fighting for, and she was tough, strong. She clawed her way back.

Things came out then, things he had deduced but not mentioned. The woman on the bus, the late night texting. John was so sorry, so very sorry and Mary gave him another chance, and it seemed all was well. Mycroft had found someone who could be trusted to hear it all, Mary’s backstory and the secrets John knew, and they were working through things, their feelings about the entire situation of their lives, together and apart. And he was glad for his friends. If anyone deserved happiness, of all people, it was them.

If only his own life would go as well in that department, he supposed.

Janine had reached out to him for help. While she had settled down for a less extravagant life, it seemed as though not everyone was willing to let her association with Magnussen go, and she was being harassed rather viciously by someone both online and at her cottage. She worried for her new husband’s safety as well as that of her unborn child, and she asked him for help. She had, surprisingly, been hesitant to ask, but he had said he owed her, for what he had done to her. Her revenge had not been nearly bad enough to hurt him the way he had hurt her; if anything, it had given him a reputation that most men would envy and benefited her in the bargain.

In the process, though, he had found out her husband was not all he had seemed. Not in a bad way, thankfully; she did not need to be hurt more by having him be a bastard. It had simply turned out he was a member of the Royal family who did not know, but there were those who wanted to exploit this position and his position as a high-ranking executive in an export company to their advantage. To do that, he needed to move among the crowd Janine moved in. As she was married now, he could not go as her paramour. And this was not the type of crowd you brought a casual lover to.

You brought a wife.

And Molly Hooper had agreed to pose as his.

Sherlock nodded. “As of yesterday, Molly is now Molly Holmes, my legal wife.” He picked up his coffee and took a sip. “Neither of us wanted to make a big fuss, really. Which I apologize for, but…”

“Rob me of the chance to be matron of honour,” Mary said, reaching over and slapping his shoulder. “After you were best man and damn near groomzilla at my wedding, Sherlock.”

He chuckled slightly and then shrugged. “Perhaps there will be another chance at–” He broke off when the person at the table next to them abruptly pushed away, scurrying off. He turned and watched but the crowd at the cafe made it damn near impossible to catch anything other than a glimpse of the person who left. He couldn’t even tell if the person had been male or female. Shaking his head, he turned back to Mary. “We depart tomorrow morning to Essex and we’ll be staying there as Janine’s guests while I nose around there and here in London when I have time.”

Mary nodded. “So John and Rosie and I will not be completely devoid of your company?” she asked with a smile, tilting her head.

“Of course not,” he said. “I would never deny my best mate and my favourite women of my presence.”

“Your favourite women other than Molly,” Mary said, her grin turning into a smirk.

Sherlock began to get uncomfortable under her gaze. “Yes, well…”

“Are you going to survive this case, I wonder, with your singlehood intact?” Mary asked innocently, picking up her drink and taking a sip.

“Shove off,” Sherlock muttered, glaring at her and having more of his coffee. To be honest, he’d rather have asked anyone other than Molly. Not because he didn’t like Molly, or trust Molly, or think Molly was competent.

No, not at all.

But because his relationship with Molly had been rather…muddled…since John and Mary’s wedding, and become moreso over time. He was responsible for the end of her engagement, after all, and their relationship wasn’t quite as platonic as Mary and everyone else believed, and as fake as this marriage was?

He had rather hoped he could convince her to make it real by the end of the case.

He just hoped nothing spoiled his carefully set plans in the meantime.

10

Sherlock checking up on John (John checking up on Sherlock)

anonymous asked:

Why is Granada Holmes so perfect ? <3

Because it is funny 

Originally posted by granadabrettishholmes

and interesting 

Originally posted by granada-brett-crumbs

Because there is this softe detective

Originally posted by constantbullshitting

Originally posted by granadabrettishholmes

and his softe husband

Originally posted by tremendousdetectivetheorist

Originally posted by jeremyholmes

Yeah there is nothing hidden there and they are just so fond of each other openly and they are basically husbands.

Can you fucking believe this scene? 

Originally posted by granadabrettishholmes

Or whatever is this

Originally posted by granadabrettishholmes

Or this (kill me)

Originally posted by granada-brett-crumbs

*screams*

Originally posted by calliopecookiejar


That’s it . I am unable to write anymore because Granada Holmes is fucking perfect.

anonymous asked:

John realises how selflessly Sherlock takes care of Rosie, and it helps him realise that Sherlock is actually a person truly and completely capable of loving. Much more than any other person he has ever known.

John and Rosie have been living back at Baker Street for two months when Rosie starts crying in the middle of the day.  John is up to his elbows in soapy water at the sink, trying to clean all the dishes from the mess that was lunch, and Sherlock has been sitting at his microscope for the past hour, hardly moving, working on some experiment or another.  John knows better than to attempt to ask him to help with the dishes when he’s so engrossed.  

Rosie just sits in the middle of the sitting room, screaming.

John curses and, in his haste, he accidentally drops one of the sippy cups, successfully spilling water all over the floor.  He sighs and leans down to pick it up, chucking it back in the sink and throwing a towel down over the spill.  He’ll have to clean it up later, after he calms Rosie down.  It isn’t until he’s almost got his hands completely dry, however, that he realizes Rosie has stopped yelling.

He looks over and almost drops the towel.  Sherlock is standing by the window, Rosie curled up in his arms.  He’s got his lips pressed against her head, and he’s murmuring quiet words that John can’t hear.  Rosie hiccups and takes deep, shuddering breaths, her fists curled into Sherlock’s robe.  After a few minutes, she lays her head down on his shoulder.

John doesn’t know how long he stands there staring at them, and he can’t quite pinpoint why the image of them together like that is making his chest hurt.  He’s seen them play together in the past couple of months; he’s seen Sherlock play Rosie the violin; he’s seen Sherlock read to her.  John’s eyes slide back to the microscope at the table where Sherlock’s abandoned slides and samples sit. 

It wasn’t that he thought Sherlock was selfish enough to ignore a screaming baby in favour of his experiments.  But…Sherlock had been known to tune out almost everything when he was working.  He’d even tuned out the fire alarm once when Mrs. Hudson had accidentally set her stove on fire.  John had had to drag him out of the flat.

But somehow, at the first sign of Rosie’s distress, Sherlock had been pulled from his work.  And now, as John watches, he thinks about all of the other times Sherlock has done something like that in the past few months, smaller things that John hadn’t quite taken note of at the time.  Ignoring texts from Lestrade; coming home with new nappies when John hadn’t even realized they were almost out; emerging from his mind palace when Rosie climbed up onto the sofa with him.  Little things that seemed so small and yet weren’t.

John swallows hard, setting the rag aside, and that’s when Sherlock looks up at him, just the ghost of a smile gracing his features.  John smiles back, and his throat feels tight because Sherlock is happy like this.  He’s content with John’s child in his arms, rocking her until she’s calm, abandoning his own wants for hers.

Rosie falls asleep in Sherlock’s arms, and he takes her upstairs to put her into her crib.  When he comes back down John has made up his mind, and he’s never seen Sherlock look so shocked as when John kisses him right then and there.

Can anyone else see the relationship of the Scamander brothers being very similar to that of Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes from the BBC series?  Newt worked for the Ministry of Magic for a short time, but Theseus made a career out of it as a powerful Auror.

I can just see a day when the Ministry needs the expert advice of one certain Magizoologist who has no intention of coming back to Britain at the moment.  It’s up to Theseus to drag him from whatever little outpost he’s at in the middle of the night, putting up a complete fuss the entire way until he’s seated outside the Minister of Magic’s door, wrapped in nothing but his camping blankets in defiance.

Theseus:  We are in the Ministry of Magic, the very heart of the wizarding British Nation.  Newton Scamander, put your trousers on.

@asktheseusscamander

anonymous asked:

Sherlock standing Rosie on the tops of his feet and leaning over to hold her little hands and dancing her around the room and John overhears them from the kitchen, Sherlock saying "This is a waltz, bumblebee. I tried to teach your daddy once, but I'm afraid you got all the natural talent in the family."

Originally posted by forbeautifulpeopletv

10

“A character plans to confess their love, but ultimately decides not to.”

His Last Vow (2014) // Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl (2003)

Originally posted by whenisayrunrun

A/N:requested

**********

“God you are just so beautiful, what are you doing here?” a detective from Scotland Yard, flirts with you. You skipped school to hang out with your older brother, Sherlock, for the day after he called you about a case early this morning. From the looks of it Sherlock was regretting it as you were surrounded by guys

“Really is that the best you could do?” Sherlock bursts from where he stood next to the body

“Oh come on Sherlock, don’t be like that” you tease

“Would you like for me to call Mycroft?” Sherlock threatens and you sigh knowing that he will do it

“Sorry boys” you step away from the group over to the body

“I love you Sherly” you give your brother a side hug, he just huffs mumbling for you to not call him that but you know that he loves you and will always be there to protect you. Plus he also loves your hugs.

5

Um, hello. Is, err… I’m sorry, Sherlock asked me to come. What, two weeks ago? Yeah, about two weeks.

anonymous asked:

How about victorian Sherlock, intimately shaving John ; )

“Well, you’re on army pension now, I presume this is how it will be from now on. No more fancy trips to the barber.”
John Watson only hummed, face rigid.
“Relax, my dear,” Holmes purred. “I quite like this. I’ve always preferred my doctors clean-shaven, but I’ve never been the one to do it…”

Easter Egg!: On doing some research I ran into this article that explains some of the masculinity/sexual connotations behind shaving in Victorian England… 

anonymous asked:

So when Rosie was three, Sherlock and John took her to the South of France on their first proper family holiday - they had of course done the odd day trip to Brighton, and visited Sussex or Sherlock's parents for a weekend here and there before this. Anyway, John forgot his shaving kit when they went away and Sherlock might've talked him out of nipping to the local supermarche to purchase some more. 'Consider it an experiment,' he'd said. Within a few days both Sherlock and Rosie had taken (1)

a great interest in the stubble on his usually smooth cheeks. It was a bit itchy, but considering Sherlock’s reaction, he dealt with it and enjoyed the sun, the beach, hearing Sherlock speaking french and listening to him teaching Rosie a few more phrases and words - which she picked up and used very astutely over their week away. 

But when they returned to London, both Sherlock and Rosie sulked for a day solid when he shaved it off for work. When Sherlock joined him in bed that night (still slightly sunkissed with some rather fetching freckles!) John turned to look at him in the darkness. ‘Do you really prefer it?’ he asked, coaxing Sherlock to look at him gently. 'I mean, do you prefer me with the beardy look?’ Sherlock scowled and turned to face him, cupping his smooth cheeks. His thumbs ran over them as he spoke, 'You are gorgeous. With or without facial hair. It’s addition or removal could never make me love you any less than I already do. Same with Rosie.' Sherlock sealed his promise with a kiss. 'Though it was a bit sexy. A change,’ he added, 'And I really wouldn’t mind if it made a comeback now and then. If you’d like that…' 

John could hear the hopeful smile in his voice, and felt it against his own lips as he went in for another kiss. 'Hmm, we’ll see,’ he whispered, 'Might need a little more convincing…’ Anyway, John grows it out now and again and Sherlock rather likes the bristley kisses, so does Rosie, and he gets forty per cent more flirtatious glances and chat ups when he has it - a blessing and a curse, both stemming from Sherlock’s jealously. A new addition to the bathroom cabinet is beard oil and shampoo, courtesy of the facemask and skincare aficionado himself. (Fin).

WHO…WHO ARE YOU???

anonymous asked:

I love swaplock where Sherlock is the one with the crush and Molly is oblivious, but everything else is the same. :) May I humbly request?

“Any luck?”

Sherlock looked up, startled. “What?”

“With the flowers,” John nodded to the bouquet on Molly’s desk. “You bought them, didn’t you?”

Sherlock scowled, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. “Not according to her.”

“What’s that mean?” John asked, amused. 

“Means she didn’t read the card, obviously.” 

“Why not take her to lunch or something?”

“Because, John, she’s not that sort of…ugh.” Sherlock stalked off, glowering. He waited until John had caught up with him. “She doesn’t take hints very well.”

“Well, knowing you, you didn’t put the card in the flowers,” John said.  

“I…had it written out…”  

“Okay, but still missing the point.”

“Well…she should know by now nobody buys her flowers, she could have seen me walk in with them!” Sherlock blustered.  

“Okay,” John nodded, humoring him. “How?”  

“Well…when…through security feeds!” Sherlock tried.  

“Mm, right, and when does she have time to hack the security feeds, on her lunch hour?” John shook his head. “Sherlock, just ask her out.”  

“Ask who what?”  

Both men turned with a start.  

“Uh…” Sherlock flicked a nervous glance to John, then back at Molly.  

“Sherlock is taking you to lunch,” John said. “That’s nice of you, Sherlock, well I’m going back home, let me know if anything comes up!” he slapped his friend on the back, waved goodbye to Molly and jogged off. 

“So…lunch?” Molly asked, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. 

Sherlock followed the curve of her fingers, distracted. Blinking quickly, he shrugged. “Yes! No…I…had thought dinner…instead.”

“Okay,” Molly shrugged. “For what though?”

“To…thank you,” he decided, mentally berating himself. “You’re quite singular, Molly Hooper.” 

Ah, better. 

“Sounds like fun!” she smiled brightly. “I’ve got loads to do, so lunch wouldn’t have worked out anyway, I’ll see you tonight, seven-ish?”

“Yes, I’ll pick you up-“

“Oh no it’ll be faster if I meet you, what’s the address?”

A plan quickly formulated in his mind. “You know Angelo’s restaurant?”

“I do, love it there.”

“Yes I know,” he murmured. 

“What?”

“I said ‘Oh good’,” he answered quickly, flustered. “Yes. Angelo’s. Seven-fifteen.”

“Right. Okay!” she jotted down the time and place on the notebook she carried.

“See you then!”

Sherlock would have been lying if he said he’d nearly ducked his head to kiss her cheek, but she was past him before he could complete the motion. Well, there would be time for kissing later…he hoped. 


Sherlock Holmes was, for lack of a better word, utterly besotted. Molly Hooper, for whatever reason, either had no idea, or no interest. He felt rather sick to his stomach, the idea of her rejecting him, and thus ending their friendship. Perhaps she was oblivious, it was entirely possible, after all, it wasn’t as if he’d been clear from the start how he’d have liked their relationship to go. Well, he could and would clear all that up tonight. 


Later that evening, around seven-ish
Molly ran a hand through her still slightly-damp hair. The windy evening had mostly dried it, but she was all-too-aware she looked rather wind-blown as she stepped through the doors to Angelo’s restaurant. 

“Sherlock Holmes’ party,” she murmured, breathless, trying to comb down her hair. 

“Yes of course Miss Hooper, this way,” she was about to thank the hostess when she looked up, and suddenly wished she’d put on a nicer dress. Not that she was improperly dressed, but it was just an plain black sheath dress, one that allowed her to move freely while she worked. 


Looking around the restaurant, Molly couldn’t help but stare.
“Where um…where is everyone?” she asked.

“The restaurant is yours for the evening,” the host pulled aside the curtain to the outer patio. There was a single table, candles and paper lanterns decorated the patio. Wine was being chilled and a bouquet of heady peonies and roses decorated the table. “Enjoy.”

Molly couldn’t speak, still staring at the grand gesture that was spread before her. This was not a friendly dinner to say ‘thank-you’, and she felt quite foolish suddenly, for not having seen Sherlock’s attempted advances before. It all made sense! His spending time in the lab even if he had no cases or experiments, his assistance on her caseloads, the mysterious bouquet of flowers that showed up twice a month… 

Sherlock appeared, muttering to himself as he wrestled with a champagne bottle, clearly trying to get the cork out. He was dressed quite nicely in an rich aubergine button-down, and one of his nicer suites (though to be fair, all of his suits were nice).

“Oh…” Molly finally spoke.  

The cork finally popped out with a terrific ‘crack!’, just as he realized she was standing there. He cursed under his breath as the champagne foamed over, he grabbed the cloth from the handle of the bucket, wrapping it around the neck. 

She couldn’t move, or else she’d have helped him. Rooted to her spot, she again took in the beautiful sight. A lovely reserved restaurant for two, candles and flowers and champagne…and Sherlock, trying his hardest to appear blasé about half a bottle of wine foaming over his hand. 

“Molly,” he tried. 

“You meant me…” she finally managed, and he met her gaze. 

He quirked a smile, nodding. “Yes. All this time I’ve been making rather a poor show of trying to tell you but-“

“No, I’m just dense sometimes, you were lovely, and I’m sorry if I misunderstood,” she shook her head quickly. “I just…I never expected,” she gestured to their surroundings, then to herself. “I never expected anyone to do this for me and I’m…” she blushed, smiling at her feet for a moment. “I’m overwhelmed, if I’m quite honest,” she laughed, nervous, but she dared a step forward. 

“So…you’ll stay?” he too, moved nearer. 

Shy again, she nodded, pushing her hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry I’m not properly dressed,” she gestured to herself. “If I’d have known I-I’ve got a really beautiful dress at home, it’s dark green and velvet and not just an old work sheath.”

“You look lovely,” he said, quite honestly, and held her chair for her. “I’m just glad you came.”

“I’ll always come when you need me to, Sherlock,” Molly replied. “If I seem surprised it’s because…I guess I never expected someone like you to want someone like me.” 

He looked at her as if she had two heads. “I find that hard to believe, considering your brilliance, your fascinating line of work, to say nothing of your physical features,” the waiter stood by the doorway, and Sherlock noticed. “I could go on,” he said. “But there is the waiter with the menu, but I would like to discuss what our future would be, should we continue this relationship on a more intimate level.” 

“I’d like that,” she nodded, flushing, eyes shining at him.

anonymous asked:

I love your line sketches of the BBcsherlock characters and would love to learn how to draw this way. This style where you can see individual lines instead of other shading absolutely facinates me. Do you have any tips on how to start?

Hey thanks! I don’t think there’s anything particularly special about this sort of style, it’s basically just the same as crosshatching with a traditional pencil, except here with digital art I just used the pen tool in SAI so the lines don’t blend and they stand out more.

Essentially what you’re trying to do is express a plane with a series of lines, like this:

To express tone and shading, you can vary the density:

Thickness:

Darkness:

Or overlap lines (crosshatch):

This doesn’t mean that crosshatching always makes things darker, sometimes you can crosshatch lightly, it’ll just make the shading look finer:

So with a combination of line density, thickness, darkness, and overlap, you can create all sorts of different tones and textures depending on what you need for different parts of the picture:

To express turning faces, you can vary the direction or angle of your lines:

The rest is just a matter of deciding how you use those techniques to express the picture you want to draw, and that’s a matter of your own judgement and experience; it would be impossible to list every rule because there aren’t any rules. The stuff about thickness and crosshatching and density etc. I basically made up just now by looking back on my drawings and analysing the lines; I never actually consciously thought about those things when I drew them, so don’t treat them like commandments or something, play around with different lines and combinations to get a feel for yourself what works in what situations.

To illustrate that I’ll draw a picture of Sherlock and try to break down what I’m doing at each step:

Sorry my notes are a bit messy (I hope you can read my writing) but if anything I guess it reflects how messy my thought process is, I’m always adding things and changing things as I go along.

Always remember, you’re trying to use lines to represent planes, so even though you’re drawing in lines, you need to be looking at the reference and thinking in terms of planes, not lines. Also, make sure you keep your lines parallel so they don’t run into each other because that’ll make it look messy.

I think the best way to learn is always to try things yourself, so don’t just look at this tutorial, go play around with the lines yourself, whether you use my steps as a starting point or draw from a photo of your own, hopefully you’ll get a feel for how to use lines then. Also remember that you can go as detailed or as loose with your lines as you want, so long as you have the important shapes and facial features expressed.

Hope this was helpful! :)