“When objects large enough to generate their own gravity fields come into each other’s influence spheres, they increase their destructive force as they hurtle towards each other, and they are lucky if they escape each other’s gravity at all after the collision, surfaces damaged and cracked from the impact and black hole cores shuddering with new activity.”
-Evolving Universe: The Biography of the Cosmos, Govert Schilling
Oh, look at these two. How they wish to destroy one another. How they wish to control one another. How they both wish to be free. Can you see? Can you see how much they need one another? No, perhaps not. Sometimes these things cannot be seen.
A/N: This could link to one of the other reader inserts ‘The Baby Is Coming’ but you don’t have to read that to understand this. I hope I haven’t made Mycroft or Sherlock to OOC. Enjoy! xxx
Exhausted was an understatement. You knew that childbirth was very painful and tiring but nothing could have prepared you for that. However, the long nine months and incredibly painful birth was all worth it as your little boy was born. Sherlock was stood by the window nursing the babe. He’d insisted that you slept but you wanted to stay awake because the Holmes parents, now grandparents, were on their way. You assumed that Mycroft would probably stay at the Holmes residence but you didn’t know whether he’d be forced to pay a visit to the hospital. Sherlock was tense. You could tell he didn’t want Mycroft to come but you did. You wanted a close family and although Mycroft was a fairly distant and an unsociable person, he was the uncle of your child and you wanted him to be involved.
“Yes mother,” A voice said from the other side of the door. The voice belonged to Mycroft Holmes. “The nurse said that they were in here.” The door opened slowly and in came Mycroft and his parents.
“Congratulations!” Mrs Holmes exclaimed and came over to your bedside. She kissed your cheek and then rushed over to Sherlock and kissed him. Mr Holmes gave his congratulations whereas Mycroft stayed in the doorway.
“Have you decided on a name?” Mycroft asked.
“Arthur Hamish William Holmes,” You replied with a smile.
“My little Arthur,” Mrs Holmes said happily as she took the boy from Sherlock. “I say that we’re too young to be grandparents."
"I for one accept my age,” Her husband replied but she just chuckled. After holding Arthur for quite a while, she finally passed your son over to grandfather Holmes.
“Finally a grandchild,” He said. “We knew Mycroft would never have children and we finally gave up hope with Sherlock. Then he met you, Y/N. You both produced a lovely little baby boy. My grandson.” He was full of pride.
“Would you like a hold?” You asked Mycroft.
Sherlock was about to object but his brother did first. “No thank you,” He said. “Babies are not really my forte and I have a good view from here.”
“No I insist.”
“Mycroft Holmes, you will take the baby, hold the baby, and enjoy it.” You got out of bed and you took Arthur from Mr Holmes. You then passed him to the child’s uncle. Mycroft was terrified. He was almost shaking. Mycroft was in charge of the whole country (practically) but that was no problem and he was as cool as a cucumber. Give him a child and he will panic.
“I think we should all, with the exception of Mycroft and Y/N, get some coffee,” Mrs Holmes said. “No objections!" They all got up and left. There was no arguing with Mrs Holmes.
Mycroft watched helplessly as you fell asleep. He had hoped to hand Arthur back you but tiredness had took over you. He couldn’t give him to anyone else either. He was stuck. He walked over to the window, which was where Sherlock had stood earlier. Mycroft looked down at the boy. Arthur’s eyes were wide open and he was looking up at his uncle. Mycroft’s expression softened. He began to realise how important this child was to him. He was trusted with little Arthur and he would do anything to protect him. Mycroft was the one who taught Sherlock to not care however the 'iceman’ himself was now making exceptions.
Sherlock entered the room. He saw you asleep in the bed and then saw his older brother looking down at Arthur with admiration in his eyes.
"I may appear harsh,” Mycroft stated. “However, I promise that I will do everything in my power to keep Arthur, you, and Y/N safe.”
“Were you not doing that already?”
“Yes but that was out of 'brotherly compassion.’ Now it is out of… Out of… Love.” Love was a hard word for Mycroft to get out but he did it all the same.
Sherlock chuckled. “I’m flattered.”
“I’m the father. Am I not able to keep my wife and child safe?”
“Yes but what happens when it comes to cases? When you’re getting into other people’s business and you put yourself and them in danger? Or when you’re bored so you get high? Who will be there to pick up the pieces? This isn’t a game, Sherlock! These are people’s lives!”
“I’m a changed man now.”
“I’m trying to help, Sherlock!”
He sighed. “Then thank you. Also, Y/N would like you to be godfather as well as John.”
One night Sherlock was jumping on the bed. He fell off and bumped his head. In came the doctor, and the doctor said, “No more Sherlock jumping on the bed.”
Sherlock gazed woozily up at John from the spot on the floor where he’d landed. John knelt down to examine him.
“You don’t appear to have a concussion, but just to be on the safe side I’d better stay in here with you tonight, so I can wake you up every couple of hours to check on you,” John said.
Sherlock made no objection.
The next night Sherlock was jumping on the bed. He fell off and bumped his head. In came the doctor, and the doctor said, “No more Sherlock jumping on the bed!”
“I think I might have a concussion,” Sherlock said. “You’d better stay in here again tonight, so you can wake me up every couple of hours to check.”
John made no objection.
The third night Sherlock was jumping on the bed. He fell off and bumped his head. In came the doctor, and the doctor said, “No more Sherlock jumping on the bed!”
“It’s for an experiment, John,” Sherlock explained.
“Well, I suppose I’m going to have to stay in here again tonight,” John said.
Sherlock made no objection.
The fourth night Sherlock was jumping on the bed. He fell off and bumped his head. In came the doctor, and the doctor said, “No more Sherlock jumping on the bed!”
“But John —”
“No, Sherlock. I don’t care if it’s for an experiment. Even your thick skull can only take so many hits without serious damage.”
“I suppose you’ll have to stay with me again, to make sure I don’t have a concussion,” Sherlock said.
John made no objection.
The fifth night Sherlock was jumping on the bed. He fell off and bumped his head. In came the doctor, and the doctor said, “NO MORE SHERLOCK JUMPING ON THE BED!”
Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but John cut him off before he could begin.
“This is getting ridiculous. You don’t have to keep banging your head in order to get me to spend the night with you. If you want me to share your bed, all you have to do is ask,” John said, sliding under the duvet.
Sherlock made no objection.
John and Sherlock, together in the bed, Taking turns giving head. In came Mrs. Hudson, and this is what she said: “I knew you wouldn’t need two beds.”
This is my response to the @hiatustory May prompt: Bedsharing.
Do you have any prompts for a house or apartment full of artists/ art students?
Character A is coming home from a late night dance class, and after entering in their dark apartment, they’re ambushed by Character B, who is yelling and brandishing one of their calligraphy pens like a tiny knife. Turns out that Character B thought that Character A had been home all night and that their shared apartment was being broken into.
“Could you stop playing depressing music? I get that you like listening to morbid music while you work but please, put on some headphones or at least turn the music down.” AU
Character A is really into comic books and wants to become an artist in the future, but at the moment, Character A is going to school for a major that their parent(s) chose. Character B is Character A’s roommate, and Character B is very into writing, so when they learn that Character A has always dreamed of making their own comic book, Character B offers to help them.
In order to keep up with their thoughts, Character A tends to scribble cryptic, half-formed ideas on their hands and arms – “lovecraftian style Sherlock Holmes mystery”, “object head w/lemon slice”, “granite hearts refuse to break”, etc. – throughout the day. When they come home at night, Character B looks over Character A’s hands/arms and takes the ideas that they feel like they can do something with.
“Help it’s 2am and I need a last minute nude model so shuck off your clothes and start posing. ” AU
Character A has been trying to work through a really difficult writer’s block, but they just can’t get out of it. Characters B and C, Character A’s roommates, decide to take Character A out for a long hike so that Character A can hopefully work out whatever is holding them back.
Alternatively, Character A’s art is in direct connection with their feelings, so when Character A has a lot of repressed emotions, their art begins to suffer and the only thing that helps is a good crying session. This is usually set up by Character B with a night full of sad movies and both of them talking about their feelings.
I think it’s important to stress that at this point in the lying detective john and Sherlock are estranged mostly due to John’s anger. They are both hiding things from each other.
He doesn’t trust himself with Sherlock and he certainly doesn’t trust Sherlock but who do they both trust? Molly Hooper.
John trusts Molly to do what he can’t do, (he’s still seething, he can’t be objective with Sherlock, not at the moment)
John sees but does not observe, so he thinks that Sherlock would never think of Molly, because he only sees what Sherlock lets him see.
Because John loves Sherlock, but in many ways he is blinded to him, believes too much of the narrative he himself has created.
With John Sherlock is either the hero or “a monster” there’s little shades of grey. Even at the end of the episode of the lying detective when Sherlock is so vulnerable and shattered john still almost leaves, almost doesn’t take the desperate hand Sherlock offers.
And because Sherlock is so exceptional in John’s mind, he instantly thinks that when Sherlock might get emotionally attached it will be with Irene adler because she is exceptional too, because Sherlock’s reaction to her was visceral and intense.
But he doesn’t see Molly, who is always there, who Sherlock invites out to solve crimes, the Molly who stands beside Sherlock at the christening or comes to eat cake with them.
Because it’s so ordinary, because the man who is with Molly isn’t Sherlock Holmes the detective but a more human sherlock, a more ordinary Sherlock. John likes to embellish the stories, highlighting the most dangerous and exciting parts.
If you were John would you write about the woman who stripped naked the first time you met her? Who told Sherlock she would take him on that table and make him beg for mercy. Twice.
Or would you write about Molly Hooper, the quiet little pathologist, godmother to his daughter?
John is attracted to dangerous people, people like Irene adler and Sherlock Holmes and Mary Morstan, it’s not even a concious thought.
I don’t think john means to belittle Molly but I think he thinks of her like he does himself, an ordinary person dragged into extraordinary events.
He relies on her so much that she ceases to have any mystery (it can be inferred that Molly took on the bulk of parenting post Mary’s death) she’s always available always willing and so john forgets about her (like his limp)
John forgets just how much Molly does for all of them and he is supposed to be the most human, emotional one while Sherlock is supposed to be a computer so of course john figures that Sherlock wouldn’t appreciate Molly’s talents but as season four progresses and john loses his humanity and falls from grace Sherlock seemingly finds his.
John is inferring what Sherlock wants based on the Sherlock Holmes in legend, but he’s never asked what Sherlock might want, what kind of partner would fulfill the great detective. John assumes that his tastes (dangerous women) are Sherlock’s taste, but could it be that Sherlock savours the normalcy? That he might need something more from a relationship than sex and danger?
That someone he can trust absolutely would succour him when the rest of his world is full of danger. We see Sherlock through John’s eyes and so through his bias.
We don’t know how Sherlock feels, until of course we do, thanks to Eurus.
Eurus rips the john filter away from the audience and suddenly we see Sherlock as he is, a vulnerable, broken man that john would never write about.
Sherlock Holmes the great detective wouldn’t think of Molly hooper
Requested by @kentuckyfriedcarlos:
Hello! Wondering if you could write a fanfic about Sherlock asking reader to deduce something and her being uncomfortable and unsure but he insists she tries and he is sweet about it? Thank you so much! 💚
Pairing: Sherlock x reader.
Word count: 907(Shortie)
A/N: I don’t know if this is sweet enough to fulfill the request, but it made me really happy to write it so…
stared at the object for longer than anyone was used to. He barely blinked, and
his face remained neutral as his mind wandered to every last bit of information
it kept looking desperately for an answer.
sitting at the opposite side of the table, analysing him. She was quiet, as
usual, and she tried with all her might to keep her breath steady so Sherlock
wouldn’t kick her out.
missing something…” Sherlock muttered and looked up at her.
isn’t a clue at all.” She suggested quietly.
Sherlock shook his head, “This is a
clue, I just… There’s a whole; something I’m not seeing.”
should rest.” She whispered.
Sherlock replied absentmindedly, “I need John to help me.”
his honey moon, remember?” Sherlock sighed heavily.
“Honey moon.” He mocked bitterly, “What a
bunch of crap, there are loads of criminals all over London and he prefers to
go on holiday rather than…”
wife.” (Y/N) interrupted, “He went on holiday with his wife.”
Sherlock leaned back on his chair and looked around as if that would help him
get to the desired result.
someone smart to help him. Of course, no one had a mind such as himself but it
truly helped him when someone else gave him their opinions. Without mentioning
the fact that he was still missing something important, which could be something
obvious to the eyes of a common citizen and that increased his need for someone
blue eyes landed on the girl sitting across from him. Her whole appearance was
tidy and neat, with her hair perfectly combed and natural makeup. The clothes
of a real lady, which she liked to wear during cases because it gave her more
of a professional look. Sherlock tilted his head as an idea invaded his mind.
spoke. The girl looked up at him. She had been playing with her phone.
She replied, the detective smiled slightly.
make a deduction for me?” Her posture instantly stiffened and her eyes became
stuttered, pointing at herself like there were a million other (Y/N)s in that
Sherlock stated softly.
think I can be of much use to you, Sher.” She said.
assured, “I actually need someone else’s opinion and you’re smart enough to do
we were all idiot compared to you.” (Y/N) muttered.
all idiot compared to me.” Sherlock stated, “But out of all of the idiots, you’re
the less idiotic.”
smirked at his words. “A compliment worthy of Sherlock Holmes.” She joked.
gave her a wide grin before going back to his serious face. “So?” He gestured
at the object. (Y/N) sighed heavily and hesitated a little before she stood up
and walked to his side.
moved a little so (Y/N) had a better, more direct view of the object. The girl
leaned down on the table to observe.
was just one shoe, the left one. High-heels, to be specific, and very tall and
It’s quite a big foot for a lady.” She stuttered, “Unless she’s six feet tall,
I’d say she’s actually a man.” Sherlock furrowed at her words but didn’t
interrupt. “They are also quite unused so I’m guessing they’re new, although there’s…”
She lifted the shoe to look at the sole, “Yup, there’s glitter there, see?”
Sherlock nodded, “There are bars… Gay bars, that have glitter all over.”
was found nearby one of those bars.” Sherlock whispered and then looked up at
her. “What else?”
all, I’ve got nothing more.” She confessed shyly. Sherlock nodded once more and
took the shoe off her hands, returning it to its past position. (Y/N) searched
for his gaze, and Sherlock noticed which resulted in a silent question from
him. “Did I do right?” She asked.
relaxed at her words. “Well, you skipped a lot of important data…” (Y/N) face fell,
and Sherlock instantly changed his voice tone to a softer one, “But it was, in
a way, brilliant.”
of an idiot?” She inquired.
“No, not at
all.” Sherlock shook his head, “I thought it was a huge woman…” He confessed.
shyly. “Maybe she is a huge woman and I am an idiot.”
Sherlock’s turn to laugh. “There are no registers of a woman this tall… Not in
London, at least.” He said. Suddenly, his gaze changed into a different one;
one that (Y/N) hadn’t ever seen on him. “You did wonderfully, dear.”
think so?” (Y/N) inquired.
“Yes, I do.”
Sherlock extended a hand to caress her cheek for two seconds before going back
to minding his own business. “I’ll be downstairs.”
(Y/N) whispered as Sherlock walked and disappeared through the door. “I’ll just
wait here, then.”
seconds of silence passed, and suddenly Sherlock’s face appeared again. “You
can come.” He said.
Again, she pointed at herself.
Sherlock insisted, “I wouldn’t be able to finish this case without you, dear.”
He winked at her before disappearing once more. “Bring the shoe!”
her lip happily and took the shoe before running downstairs. It was the first
time Sherlock asked for her help on a case, and it wouldn’t be the last time.
Sherlock sitting on the couch with his feet on the coffee table and when John comes to reprove him as soon as he sits down Sherlock certainly takes his feet off the table but only to put them in John’s lap. Shaking his head, John gently pats his leg, keeping his eyes on the telly, but both him and Sherlock smiling for themselves.
Washing each other’s hair and back and Sherlock always making sure no shampoo gets in John’s eyes and he is so tender, massaging his scalp and all that but when it’s John’s turn his thoughts are somewhat reduced to “he’s got long hair I am gonna make him a shampoo mohawk“ and Sherlock always pouts at first but each single time he bursts into laughter right afterwards
Sherlock cooks for John quite often now and he also wears an “kiss the cook“ apron which John considers really adorable and once, when he returns from work, he finds Sherlock at the kitchen counter, stirring food with one hand, recipe book in another, too busy to notice he’s not alone any more and John can see him growling at the book in his hand, annoyed and rather irritated, because he of course thinks the introductions must be wrong since whatever it is in the pot doesn’t resemble what’s in the picture, at all. John watches him for a while, smiling fondly, leaning against the wall behind Sherlock without giving a sign of being there but the more Sherlock argues with the objects around him the harder it is to keep quiet so after a moment he decides to walk toward Sherlock, wrapping his arms around his waist and giggling and he doesn’t even have to say anything Sherlock blushes so hard his face ends up as red as a pepper
Once after having a shower, when John enters the bedroom in the evening he finds Sherlock leaning against the headboard, under the duvet and reading and, much to John’s surprise, wearing glasses too and his heart melts because it must be the cutest thing ever but he also can’t help himself but tease his boyfriend a little. Sherlock quickly puts the glasses away but as John climbs into bed he kisses him softly and whispers against his lips, saying he thinks they’re actually really cute and you can imagine Sherlock pondering for a moment before deciding he’s going to wear those glasses much more often from now on
For the headcanon thing: Skirt 😊😊 Now is right LOL
(I’ll assume sherlolly hehe) Molly owns a skirt that she bought on a whim, but feels it isn’t practical for work and is too dressy for casual wear. It’s kind of full so flares out when she spins which is why she fell in love with it. Sherlock (having hid out at her flat countless times) totally deduced all this about the garment and ends up using it as an excuse to ask her out. “You do realize that skirt you keep at the back of your closet is being completely wasted? That is so obviously a dancing skirt…you may as well come dancing with my this weekend!” 😉
It was all his mother’s fault, Sherlock thought, as he poured himself another wee dram. Carefully. He was seated at the dining room table, but was slumped over it, half lying on the white linen, steadying himself against the solid surface as he concentrated on his task. It was Scotch whiskey, his father’s favorite, thirty years old and obscenely expensive. His mother would murder him if he spilled a drop, she had a streak of frugality in her that seemed more than a bit strange in one born to affluence, and would have no sympathy for him in spite of the fact that his Molly might die. His mother was a cruel and unusual woman, a mathematics scholar in her youth, and she still thought like a bloody machine (though in truth he’d admired that in former days – how ignorant he’d been).
Okay so this was reaaaaally heavily inspired by Hotline Miami bc I forgot how much I loved that game. I love Jacket’s character so much, I thought it’d be interesting for reader to have a similar one. So here, have a murderous Mute!Reader. ~ 🕷️💋
‘Need you down at the station ASAP. - GL’ ‘I thought I told you already, if he has a purple mop, you can arrest him. Check the underwear drawer, the gun’s in there. -SH’ ‘We already took care of that. New case, very peculiar circumstances. Need you here for help. Please come. -GL’ ‘Be there in twenty. -SH’
Sherlock grabbed his coat, throwing it on as he hurried out of the flat and into the street below, where he eagerly hailed a taxi. New cases were always amusing. Arriving at Scotland Yard, he made his way to Lestrade’s office, where the older man sat waiting, sifting through various objects sprawled across his desk.
Lestrade jumped at Sherlock’s voice, “Yes. Multiple homicides. Horribly bloody. Might as well call it a massacre.”
“You should’ve seen it. The newer guys, they won’t sleep for a week, at least.”
“Yeah,” Lestrade picked up one of the objects - a Walkman - and inspected the outside before opening it and pulling out a cassette. He noted the piece of Scotch tape at the top with chicken-scratch writing scrawled across it. He took a moment to read it.
I kinda put a lot on this… so, with all my heart for all Adlock fans. Thanks to @fireloom for her help in this ^_^
Prompt day #14:“Happy Valentine’s Day, Sherlock Holmes.
“Wake up!” Nero says in a playful tone. “Get up.” The boy tries to open his father’s eyes. Sherlock rolls on the bed to avoid the intrusion of his son. This action only causes to Nero burst into laughter. “Get up! I want breakfast! Can we make pancakes? We make pancakes when mom is here,” Nero asks with excitement. Sherlock slowly rolls back to face the boy.
“We made pancakes only once, when your mother left. But, I think we can manage and make for breakfast today anyway,” Answers Sherlock with a sleepy voice, barely opening his eyes.
“When in mommy coming back?” The boy asks, eagerness in his small voice.
“Tomorrow,” Sherlock states bluntly.
“Will we have pancakes then?” Sherlock laughs at the question.
“Yes, Nero. We can also have pancakes tomorrow.” The boy cheers and jumps on the bed. Sherlock gets up lazily. “Come on, breakfast first and then…”
“To tend to the bees!” Yells Nero happily.
“Sherlock! Help me! There’s a bee trapped in my jumper!” Nero cries, running to his father. With gently hands, Sherlock untangles the bee from Nero’s jumper and lets it fly away. Nero thanks his father and runs away to keep playing with his dog Titus.
His son is still too young to have any real interest in caring for the bees. Sherlock understands. At the age of six Nero only wants to puzzle and play with Titus, a gift from his aunt Eurus.
A faint noise of a car parking in the front of the house startles Sherlock. Leaving his current activities, he goes to the front yard, followed closely by Nero. A black car just parked. Mycroft step out of the passenger side door and walks towards Sherlock. He inspects his brother’s attitude and knows something is out of place. Sherlock invites him in.
“Go play outside with Titus, Nero.” The boy complains, but does as he is told at Sherlock’s insistence.
“I’ll go straight to the point,” Mycroft interrupts. “I don’t like to be the bearer of bad news, but I prefer you hear it from me than from anybody else.” He avoids eye contact on purpose. Sherlock’s heart begins to race with the thought of the imminent bad news coming, yet, he maintains a calm stance. Sherlock hints Mycroft to continue.
“It’s about Adler. The Woman.”
“To the point, Mycroft.” Sherlock is getting eager.
“She is missing.” Mycroft pauses to study his brother’s features, unreadable. “The mission didn’t go as well as planned. There was a shooting. When my agents made it to the location, everyone had already disappeared. No signs of spies, shooters or Irene Adler.”
Sherlock shut his eyes and turns around, not wanting to face his brother. The Woman is smart, her tells himself, she’ll be fine. Despite his thoughts, he can’t help his accelerating heart rate. Mycroft speech, on the other hand, has a failure that Sherlock can see through.
“When did this happened?” Sherlock asks with an incredulous tone. Mycroft hesitates.
“Eighteen hours ago. My agents haven’t been able to locate her.” This time, Sherlock’s breath catches in his throat. He is disconcert and can’t help to show it. “But rest assure, brother dear, my agents will-”
“The same agents that didn’t make it to the shooting on time?” Interrupts Sherlock, visibly upset now. Mycroft goes silent and Sherlock begins to pace in the room.
“Don’t you, by any means, brother, think of going after her,” Mycroft warns.
“Of course not, Mycroft!” Shouts Sherlock. “I can’t leave Nero alone. It is the incompetence of your so called spies that troubles me.” Sherlock sighs and wanders pointlessly around the room until he find Mycroft’s eyes. “You better find her, Mycroft.”
Mycroft nods and with solemn attitude, hands him a packet of cigarettes. “Stay focused, Sherlock. For your son.” With a final nod, Mycroft leaves.
Once the door shuts, Sherlock drops on the couch and hides his face in his hands. He is trembling, panting and sweating. He takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. The cigarettes held tightly in his hand.After so many years of playing their game, they finally had a family, a place to call home. Sherlock does not want to lose that. Home lose its meaning without her. The room spins around him, he can’t remember the last time he felt so much despair. Nero’s voice takes him out of his thoughts.
“What happened?” Asks the boy shyly.
“Hey buddy, come here,” Sherlock calls gently, inviting Nero to sit next to him.
“Is it about mommy?” The boy continues as he sits beside his father.
“Yes, it is,” Sherlock keeps a peaceful tone. “Something arose and… she is not coming home tomorrow.”
“Soon,” Reassures Sherlock. “Not tomorrow, but soon.” Nero nods.
Two villains, three quotes. The first scene is real, the second scene is definitely in Sherlock’s MP, the third scene … well.
Oh, you’ve got an audience now. Off you pop. (TRF) - This is Jim on the roof. We might argue that this is a decisive life-changing moment for Sherlock he cannot let go, something he will come back to again and again.
One little push, and off you pop. (HLV) - This is Sherlock in his mind palace in HLV, meeting his inner Moriarty who is challenging him to die while at the same time providing the one incentive to stay alive.
And off we … pop. (TLD) - This is Culverton Smith when he is about to kill Sherlock, the last moment before John smashes the door.
How probable is it that two villains, two enemies would use the same words in threatening Sherlock with death? Culverton Smith is very different from Jim Moriarty, there are no parallels or connections between them (that we know of). Sherlock chose Culverton Smith as the “bad guy” to pick a fight with whereas Jim picked Sherlock as the object of his obsession.
To me it seems far more probable that Sherlock keeps reliving the turning point of his life, the encounter on the roof after nothing ever was the same. Since TAB and S4 keep recycling moments and quotes and mirrors from earlier episodes - which we read as an indicator of EMP - this might be another piece of evidence.