sherlock holmes ask

mel-loves-all  asked:

A Sherlolly prompt please 💖

So I wrote two Sherlolly fics today, and one was from a prompt from you so I will reply to that one with that fic. The first one I posted was @simplyshelbs16xoxo‘s birthday present, so here is that one!

Pleasant Birthday Surprises - Molly is treated to a three day weekend and a trip to Bath for a Jane Austen festival, but she has no idea who gave it to her…until the ball on the night of her birthday.

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The tickets to the Jane Austen festival in Bath had been a surprise. And the unexpected three day weekend was a nice little bonus, especially since Sunday was her birthday and that was the day of the ball. She’d heard all about it when she arrived at Paradise House and promptly gotten swept up in the planning of two other women who were on her floor for what to do during the festivities. Annabelle and Christine were lovely women, and she was having a grand time, but something was missing.

Everyone had been rather…detached…from each other after Mary’s death. It had worsened a bit in some regards after what John said had happened at Sherrinford. Sherlock wouldn’t talk about it. Sherlock really wasn’t talking about anything, to be honest, and certainly not the phone call. She knew the circumstances behind it because John and Mycroft had both asked about it and given some details, but she and Sherlock seemed to be acting like it hadn’t happened.

And maybe that was best. Maybe it was best that it was out in the open and they weren’t acknowledging it. Now she could push past it once and for all.

And, perhaps, some dashing gentleman at the ball would catch her eye.

She’d been outfitted in a rather fine Regency era ballgown, or what amounted to fancy dress for the time, and her hair was styled properly and she had white gloves up to her elbows. She even was wearing satin slippers and really, this was all marvelous. The gown and accouterments had been in her room when she had returned from breakfast and were better than what she had bought. The gown was a gorgeous red, a very bold colour but something she absolutely loved. She’d taken the afternoon to get her hair coloured on a whim, and now she was a lighter brown, bordering on auburn. She thought she looked lovely, and Annabelle and Christine had agreed. The three had made for where the ball was being held together.

They didn’t stay together long, though. At the top of the grand staircase was a familiar figure, tall and dashing with his normal curls slicked back and in the proper attire for a gentleman. “I should have known,” she said to Sherlock when he moved to where she was waiting to be announced. “Why?”

“I’ve seen how many Austen novels you have, and Brontë and all of that,” he said. “When I heard of the festival and the fact it corresponded with your birthday, I felt you deserved a nice holiday.”

“And you felt the need to join me?” she asked, trying not to put any inflections in her voice. She didn’t know how she felt about all this, really. Happy and shocked and maybe even a little angry, that he had waited so long to let her know this was all his idea.

“I had planned to be here from the start, but Rosie had a cold and wanted her Uncle Sherlock,” he said. She felt the anger recede at that; they both knew he wouldn’t deny their goddaughter anything she wanted. “It wasn’t until John asked where you were that I told him about the surprise and he told me to come join you. So my apologies for leaving you alone most of the weekend.”

“Well, I had good company,” she said with a small smile. “I have two new friends out of the weekend.”

“That’s good,” he said. “You deserve them. You deserve better friends than me.”

She pulled the two of them out of line and somewhere where there was relatively more privacy before reaching up and framing Sherlock’s face, making it so they were looking eye to eye. “Sherlock…did John even realize it was my birthday today?” she asked.

“No,” he said, a frown on his face.

“Did Greg mention anything? Your brother? Sally? Mrs. Hudson?” He shook his head as much as he could while it was framed in her hands. “None of them said anything to me, either, or gave me gifts or anything. But you! You gave me tickets to a festival you knew I would enjoy, and I’m sure you arranged for all the time off, and you booked the lovely room for me and you’re here.” She caressed his face gently. “You meant it, didn’t you?”

“Meant what?” he asked.

“That you love me. When you said it on the phone. You really did mean it.”

He nodded slowly. “I do.”

“Well, I love you too, Sherlock. And I hope to hear those words said between us more often.” He smiled then, one of the genuine smiles she swore crossed his face once in a blue moon, and he gathered her close and kissed her. All in all, she was sure that this year was going to be her best birthday ever…unless Sherlock topped himself next year.

She couldn’t wait to see if he did.

anonymous asked:

So, last night I dreamed I was back in school (I'm nearly 30) and had gotten in very serious trouble. However Mycroft was my brother and came down to the school and basically pulled his, "I'm the British Government," card to bail me out. Felt slightly prophetic given today is Mark's birthday. Which btw, would Mycroft allow himself a slice of cake on this special occasion?

He would but a slim singular one as there are plenty of other people in the office beside Anthea and Aunt Lizzie [who know about his birthday] that will try and tempt him with more sweets [such as Sherlock, John, Eurus, Molly and Moriarty] that he cannot possibly eat without feeling incredibly disappointed in himself the next day.

Mycroft’s birthday would be littered with shared cards from employees and associates alike and some paid for brunch, lunch, dinners by either Aunt Lizzie or someone hoping to curry more favor with him.

Its probably one of the few days that Mycroft doesn’t have to worry about food as much as over eating it.

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


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.


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


“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



“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.


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

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).


Sherlock Holmes: The Birth of a Legend

I may make more of these for the other characters. If you’d like to see these edits for any other character, let me know. This was fun to make, poem is my own, I found it in an old poetry journal of mine. I don’t know who to tag so I’ll just tag the usual people I tag. (Just tell me to piss off if you don’t want to be tagged).

@love-in-mind-palace @shag-me-senseless-watson @savedbyholmes @kateis-cakeis @inevitably-johnlocked