I really want to do something… but idk what.

I want to do something that’ll spread positivity and kindness in the Sherlock fandom, because this fandom is slowly starting to fall apart and it really saddens me.

I know the majority of us are the ones not instigating the hate or may even be recieving it. We’re sick of it. We’re sick of the uncalled for hate and fighting from every angle of the fandom. It’s unfortunate that we’ve lost so many members of the fandom to all this crap.

So I really want to do something. Pick a day, a week, something that we can ease into, to spread positivity. Some activity or something. Show that it’s ok to ship what you want to ship, to like/dislike certain characters. You can have your opinions without demeaning other people’s and bullying them. A person’s ship does not define them. That is only a very small fraction of who they are, and there is SO MUCH MORE to a fan than that. There’s a whole person to learn things about.

I want this fandom to go back to the supportive and loving family that it used to be.

Show that these people, the minority of our fandom, don’t need to be such hateful and cruel people. They don’t need to instigate or retaliate the hate. Two wrongs doesn’t make a right, and making a wrong in the first place doesn’t make you look any better.

I know I’m only a single person in such a huge fandom, but I wanna use the small platform that I have to encourage my followers and friends to do something positive, and hopefully that’ll spread to thwir followers and friends, and so on.

I just don’t know what we could do… Does anyone have any ideas?

For penaltywaltz. Just a little continuation of the fic I wrote for you earlier. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A TINY DRABBLE. Anyways, dear, I hope this fluffy little thing brightens your day just a smidgeon. WARNING: FLUFF AHEAD. I feel like I just consumed an entire bag of cotton candy in one sitting. You’ve been warned.

Sherlock and Molly decided to return to 221B after Molly finally convinced Sherlock to stop beating himself up for forgetting the ring. (It only took a rather long, passionate kiss on her end, which Molly was only too happy to bestow.)

Instead of hailing a cab, they elected to stroll through the quiet streets of London, hand in hand. Sherlock had not officially asked her anything, but Molly was practically humming with excitement, knowing what was to come when they arrived back home.

She chattered happily as they walked, shifting from topic to topic so quickly that only a man as astute as Sherlock Holmes would have been able to follow her train of thought. 

She felt him chuckle as she told him about a particularly gruesome autopsy she had performed that day. He kissed her temple before whispering in her ear (and he knew how much she loved when he did that, damn him!), “Only you would be this excited about investigating a suspected poisoning, Molly. And, well, me,” he amended hastily, after she pulled away and playfully glared at him.

She wrapped her arms around him again, perfectly content to stay in his embrace forever, and continued on with her story as though he hadn’t just interrupted.

They arrived back at the flat nearly an hour later. By this time, Sherlock was nearly dragging Molly along, the long day finally taking its toll on the pathologist.

“We’re here,” he said softly, trying not to startle her. She blinked at him drowsily, wiping her eyes to try to dispel some of her fatigue.

“Would you like to continue our discussion from before, or wait until tomorrow when you’re more alert?” At his raised eyebrow (the smug bastard!), she was almost tempted to make him fret a bit longer, but anticipation was thrumming through her veins again, his quiet reminder waking her more effectively than yelling would have.

“Well get on with it, then.” She tried to infuse her voice with as much irritation as possible, but was fairly sure her excitement shone through instead. 

She bounced impatiently on the balls of her feet as Sherlock went to fetch the ring, wondering how he planned to ask. Would it be a simple “Will you marry me?” Or would he try to be more romantic for her, waxing poetic about their supposed complementarity?

Hearing Sherlock’s footsteps in the next room, Molly entwined her fingers behind her back, shifting nervously back and forth. He stopped in front of her, a small, black box resting innocuously in the palm of his left hand.

He trailed his free hand down her arm, leaving a trail of goose pimples in its wake. She shivered as he untangled her hands, grasped her left between his fingers, and knelt in front of her.

He opened the box, revealing a stunning, white-gold band with a princess-cut diamond in the center. Surrounding the jewel on either side was a small sapphire. Molly was utterly captivated, feeling herself tear up. He had remembered her favorite gemstone.

Gently, Sherlock stroked the back of her hand, gazing deeply into her eyes as he mentally rehearsed the speech he had so carefully prepared for this very moment. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth-

“Yes!” Molly hollered eagerly, before he could say anything, beaming brightly at him. Some of his exasperation must have shown on his face, because Molly covered her mouth apologetically. “Sorry,” she muttered, embarrassment and remorse coloring her tone.

He sighed good-naturedly, wanting to assure her that he was not angry that his plans had once more been foiled, this time by an over-excited forensic pathologist. 

(And, really, he couldn’t be mad at her when she smiled at him like that. He did have a heart, after all, and she happened to be standing in front of him.)

Squeezing her fingers to once more illustrate his forgiveness, he said dryly, “Now, can I put the ring on, or are we going to discover the jeweller got the size wrong?”

The ring, as it turned out, fit perfectly. Molly thought she heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like “Thank God,” but then she was throwing her arms around his neck and snogging him soundly, and he was too preoccupied with his beautiful fiance to worry about silly things like horrible days and ruined plans.

And Mars was a lovely red - Part deux

So this little drabble just refused to leave my head. Continuation of the above mentioned story….in a away.

She was screaming, yelling and protesting as the man physically lifted her. Flailing her hands and legs Molly tried to free herself, but the man was too strong. He easily picked her up by her waist and moved backwards.

Sherlock looked on, appearing to be uninterested in the on-going tussle. It was only when the man fell down on his back, dragging Molly down with him that he frowned slightly. Molly scampered away, all elbows and knees, running towards the now ruined piece of scarf lying in front of her. Picking it up, she ran further towards cheering members of her team, who hugged her, jumping and screaming in joy.

“The times I wonder how all of us are even remotely related!” Mycroft muttered under his breath, looking at the ensuing celebrations with a wondrous expression, as the participants yelled and bantered.

“Next time Molly Hooper, just you wait and watch. Next time I won’t let you go!”

“You wish, Isaac Holmes!” she laughed back.

It was a rare, sunny autumn day and the entire Holmes family had got together to celebrate an engagement. And you could be forgiven for assuming that Molly had known them all for much longer than the seven months she had been with Sherlock. She had an easy banter going on with the older generation and was joking around, easily mixing with the cousins, especially with Isaac.

“Well done Willy, didn’t know you had it in you… I thought she was Isaac’s girl. Now that’s a boy who would make any girl happy!” An old but strong voice said from the chair wheeled next to him.

“Well Auntie Ella, time for some little…” as he made a drinking gesture with his hands.

“Ah, don’t get riled up dear. I have already enrolled Mikey for that.” The septuagenarian smirked, patted his back and mentioned for her aid to wheel her away.

They had all adored Molly, been thrilled and more than a little surprised to find that he had an openly acknowledged girlfriend. By the end of the day, their belief in the legend of the “bloody good luck” the Holmes men enjoyed had been re-affirmed.

“They liked you.” He said lying in bed that night, watching as Molly went through her nightly routine before joining him.

“Your family is really lovely, Sherlock. You are so lucky.” She smiled.

“Well, they all agreed to that too. But it was good, watching you with them. Even though it was painful watching Isaac see you as a missed opportunity.”

“I’m not an opportunity Sherlock. And Isaac knew how I felt all along. Why are you even bringing him up?”

“Well there’s always a chance…anything can happen.” He sighed, pulling up the duvet and turning away on his side, grabbing his pillow and getting comfortable.

“But that’s true for everything.” Molly thought out loud as she applied her moisturiser. “You can suddenly decide you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Says who? Who stops you from waking up tomorrow, completely convinced that this isn’t working? I’d have to leave then, wouldn’t I?”

He turned to face her at this, a slight frown on his face.

“Why would you leave?”

“It’s your house, of course I would leave if we break up.” Molly replied nonchalantly as she rubbed some extra cream into her heels.

“I wouldn’t want that!”

“I hope you mean the break up and not just me leaving.” She smiled as she turned off the light, used to having such arbitrary conversations with him, and snuggled into the duvet, yawning as the day’s activities started catching up. “Good night Sherlock.”

There was silence in the room, broken only by the soft breaths the occupants took.

“In that case, we should make this official.” Sherlock spoke after some time.

Molly hummed sleepily, almost lost in another world before she opened her eyes, the implication of what Sherlock said finally getting through her sleep addled brain.

Half-rising on her elbow, she turned on the light, causing him to voice his protest, which was drowned by her question.

“What did you just say?”

Turn the bloody ligh-”

“Before that!!”

She looked a weird mix of scared and angry.

“I said we should make it official. That would mean you won’t have to leave if you ever break up with me.” He bit out, irritated.

“You want us to marry just so I won’t have to move out if you break up with me?” She repeated.

“Molly, after today, if I even think of leaving you, I would have to answer to at least half of my relatives, some of who scare even bloody Mycroft. And that’s before Mummy comes into the picture. Not saying that Isaac wouldn’t happily jump in.” he bit out.

“Sherlock, this isn’t about a roof over my head or your mother. And stop dragging Isaac into the conversation. He is a dear friend, and that’s all there is to it. There is no need to get jealous!”

“I am not jealous… and I still think we should make it official.” Sherlock sulked. He actually pouted and turned his back to her.

“But I don’t have a ring.” He said a few minutes later, in a low voice.

“What? I don’t want a ring.”


Knowing how he could still be grumbling about this in the morning, she placed her arm on his shoulder, trying to pacify him but he shrugged it away.

Shaking her head and sighing, she turned the light out and lay down.

“Molly Holmes…I like the sound of it. Of course professionally you can still be Molly Hooper. But I…Holmes just sounds better.” His voice muffled by his pillow.

“I like Molly Hooper.”

Fine!” He huffed out.

“Though Hooper – Holmes sounds better.”

“Ok,” he replied after a pause, slight petulance in his tone. “I’ll tell Mycroft to arrange the rest.”

“No church wedding!” She said tentatively.

He turned around at this, the horror on his face visible in the light from the street.

“Of course not! No ceremony.” Looking as if he had just batted down the most ridiculous of suggestions, Sherlock shook his head, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. “We’ll just sign the papers and be done with it.”

“Hmm,” she agreed. She was incapable for talking right now, her brain trying to catch up with what had happened in the last few minutes.

Turning to look at him after some time, she saw his eyes were closed and he was breathing steadily.

She was glad he was asleep as she needed the peace and quiet to let it all sink. To actually believe she had had the conversation. To know that she wasn’t hallucinating.

She thought of the past few months, the way her life had turned around on a new axis altogether. And now, she had agreed to marry, to actually marry Sherlock bloody Holmes. He had asked, albeit in his own way but still…him! A man most thought of as incapable of basic human interactions had just gone ahead and done, what in her opinion was, impossible.

Marriage! Who would’ve thought!!! She smirked as she realised that not much could surprise her now.

“Babies! What are your thoughts about them?”

Oh, how wrong she was!

buttercup59 asked:

Hey dear! Can't get enough of little Miss Georgina! The last one you did with a teenage Georgina getting Sherlock all worried about her growing up too fast was just sweet. With that said, I'd love to see a Father of the Bride AU with our favourite characters. Haha, it would be fun to see Sherlock going all nuts/protective with his daughter getting married!

I shouldn’t have started this. Because now I won’t get anything else done… Enjoy, dear Buttercup! :)

The Wedding of Georgina Holmes (or How Sherlock Holmes learns the hard way not to mess with the bride)

‘Where is she? Her flight landed twenty minutes ago,’ Sherlock complained and tried to see over the throng of people milling around them.

Molly reached over and threaded her arm through his to calm him, her tone fondly exasperated. ‘She has to get through customs, love. Be grateful we’re not waiting for her to come through US customs. We’d be waiting for hours.’

Sherlock huffed and pulled out his mobile. He was just about to press the dial button to call her when Molly let go of him with a soft exclamation.


His head whipped up and he felt his heart catch at the sight of the familiar black curls bouncing towards him. He breathed a sigh of relief and followed his wife as they shouldered their way through the crowd. As they got closer, he slowed down when he saw a young man following closely behind his daughter. Molly swept Georgina into her arms, identical smiles on their faces. Sherlock ran his gaze over the man and felt something settle uncomfortably in his stomach at what he read.

‘Daddy!’ Georgina had let go of Molly only to run over to him and tackle him. Immediately forgetting the man, Sherlock grinned and, on impulse, twirled his daughter about like he had done when she was a child. She shrieked in surprise and laughed, the sound warming his heart. He had missed her these past three months. America was too far away and he’d be damned if she ever left London again.

Finally setting her down, he glanced up to see Molly shaking the man’s hand, a bright smile on her face. He glowered. Did she not know that the young man had designs on their daughter? It was clear from the dilated pupils when the man looked at Georgina and the familiar way his fingers threaded through hers to tug her to his side! Sherlock froze in horror as one more deduction crossed his mind. This boy had seen Sherlock’s daughter naked! His fists clenched at his sides and it was only because he knew it would be a bit not good to level the boy to the ground that he restrained his urge to clobber the idiot.

Through clenched teeth, he snarled, ‘Who is this?’

Molly was immediately at his side, reading the tenseness in his shoulders and knowing that the last time he spoke in that tone, he had ended up breaking Mycroft’s nose for letting Georgina eat sweets before dinner. She hooked her arm through his and held herself tight to his side as Georgina looked up at the idiot adoringly.

‘Mum, Dad, this is Nicholas…’ Georgina turned to them, her eyes hazy with what Sherlock could only assume was belated adolescent hormones. ‘…my fiancé.’

Molly gasped in delight, even as Sherlock’s eyes widened and he felt the ground beneath him cave in. Georgina was barely twenty-two and this… this… this idiot was trying to steal her away! ‘What?’ He hissed and took a threatening step toward the idiot. The soon-to-be impotent idiot, if Sherlock had his way.

‘Nicholas Burke, Mister Holmes.’ The idiot extended his hand in greeting, clearly too stupid to see that he was one more inappropriate look at Sherlock’s daughter away from castration.

‘Lovely to meet you,’ Molly interjected before Sherlock could say anything and shook the idiot’s hand. She shot her husband a warning glance telling him without words to keep a lid on whatever deductions and threats he wanted to make.  ‘Let’s get your luggage and get home, okay? Then we can get the whole story and get to know you, Nicholas.’

Sherlock shot her a dirty glare, but her return scowl cowed him into petulant silence as he trailed behind them to luggage claim, listening to Georgina’s and Molly’s gushing chatter. He glared at the back of the idiot’s blonde head and imagined all the ways he could kill him on the way to Baker Street. He had come up with thirty-seven by the time they were climbing into the car Mycroft had provided. Georgina and Nicholas sat across from the elder couple and the fierce protectiveness Sherlock had fostered for his daughter since before she had even been born grew tenfold as he watched her interact with her… fian…no, he couldn’t even think the word.

‘So, Nick,’ Sherlock interrupted the women’s conversation, nearly choking on the last syllable of the idiot’s name. ‘How long have you been shagging my daughter?’



He ignored the indignant outbursts from Molly and Georgina, only tilting his head and raising his eyebrows in expectation. Nicholas flushed deep red and blinked rapidly, a bead of sweat forming on his temple and he subconsciously shifted away from Georgina. ‘I-uh, we haven’t… not long, just…’

Georgina squeezed his hand and shot a dirty glare at her father, one he knew she had learned from him. Her eyes, so like his own, were filled with anger and she leaned into the idiot purposefully. ‘Don’t answer him, Nicholas. He’s just being a jerk.’

‘Don’t insult me, young lady,’ Sherlock snapped. Molly gripped his knee tightly in warning. A warning he ignored. ‘You come home from a three month assignment for New Scotland Yard with a fiancé attached to your hip. A man you have never mentioned before who comes from a middle class American family,’ he scoffed at the very idea of her consorting with an American. ‘He is of average intelligence, at best, something you must know, being the product of my own brilliant mind. He has no redeeming qualities that would make him a suitable spouse, from his unbelievable ordinariness to his delusional desire to pursue a woman well out of his ‘league,’ as they say. So you must be having copious amounts of satisfying intercourse in order to consider a legal union as the best option instead of breaking up when your assignment ended and you had to return to London.’

Molly sighed beside him and slid her arm from his to cross them over her chest. Nicholas was sweating profusely, but instead of cowering under Sherlock’s deductions, he sat up straighter and stared firmly back at the Consulting Detective in a futile show of bravery.

But it was Georgina’s reaction that told Sherlock he had most definitely gone too far. Her eyes were locked on his and an icy anger radiated from her stiff figure. Sherlock had often thought she took after Molly in temperament and him in intelligence. But at this moment, he could only see himself in the way she glowered at him, a cold mask of anger on her pale features.

The rest of the ride to Baker Street was spent in tense silence. Molly refused to look at him, but he could feel the disappointment pouring off her in waves. Nicholas was staring out the window at the new sights, but his attention was on Georgina, his thumb rubbing soft circles in her palm. Sherlock didn’t relish the thought, but he begrudgingly acknowledged that the idiot was attuned to Georgina’s need for her own space to think, while still giving her whatever comfort he could; something Molly did for him. Georgina refused to look away from him, her glare unwavering. She hadn’t responded to his remarks, letting her anger and disappointment speak through her silence.

When the car finally pulled up to the curb alongside, Georgina quickly slid out, pulling Nicholas behind her. Molly turned to him before he could climb out and gripped his hand.

‘Sherlock, look at me,’ she whispered. He sat back, but didn’t obey, knowing he would see the disappointment in the brown eyes he loved so much, something he had worked so hard and had succeeded in preventing for many years. A hand cupped his jaw and turned his face until he was forced to look down at her. She smiled softly at him, not a trace of disappointment in her gaze, just understanding.

‘Give him a chance, sweetheart.’ She brushed a curl from his forehead. ‘Look what loving me did for you. You’re happy, at least I hope you are.’ She smiled when he nodded. ‘Perhaps that’s what he will do for her. When was the last time we saw her so unencumbered by her genius? Not since she was a child.’

‘But to marry him?!’ He retorted incredulously.

Molly shook her head and smiled. ‘Let’s get to know him before we decide against him as Georgina’s husband.’

Georgina’s husband. Sherlock felt himself pale at the thought, a sick feeling weighing in his gut.

Georgina and the idiot were still struggling to pull their luggage from the boot when Molly and Sherlock finally climbed from the car. Sherlock, with a not-so-subtle hint from Molly, took over for Georgina and helped the idiot tug the bags free. Hauling straps and bags across his back and shoulders, Sherlock paused for a moment to wonder when he had gone from being the world’s only Consulting Detective to being the pack mule for his daughter’s ridiculous number of shoes and extensive lab equipment.

The idiot was in much the same condition, the bags bumping his legs as they followed the women into the flat. Molly was fussing over Georgina and immediately insisting she freshen up with a change of clothes after their long flight while she fixed them some tea. Sherlock dumped the bags in the middle of the room and caught Georgina’s arm when she made to walk past him toward the idiot.

Her eyes flashed angrily and she glared up at him.

‘Gina, I–’

‘Don’t,’ she snapped and jerked her arm from his grasp, ignoring the soft use of her pet name. ‘Just… don’t.’

She grabbed a smaller bag from the floor and marched over to the idiot, who slowly set his bags down and followed her out to the landing and up the stairs to her room. The door slammed loudly behind them, the sound physically making Sherlock’s heart ache. As much as he detested the idea of the idiot stealing away his sweet, innocent daughter (innocent?! A scoffing voice that sounded very much like John Watson echoed in his mind, but he brushed it aside), he knew he would have to make allowances for said idiot in his home for a while.

Ficlets, Drabbles and Small Pieces

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/1UxmT7h

by Raelynn

Somewhere to collect all the tiny little things I write in one place. Will probably be mostly Sherlolly but I’ve got a few other small pieces that may end up in here. Will tag appropriately and mention at the beginning as well.

Words: 352, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/1UxmT7h
Best Laid Plans

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/1EGG6BE

by onceinabluemoon13

A small continuation of my previous story, Murphy’s Law.

Words: 725, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of What Can Go Wrong….

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/1EGG6BE

“He loves her. Of course he does, he adores her” - Steven Moffat

“Molly’s just this rock for Sherlock” - Amanda Abbington

“No no I didn’t practice it, i just fucking did it. I had loads of glass in my hair and I just go for the girl” - Benedict Cumberbatch

“You can’t have Sherlock Holmes without Molly Hooper” - Steven Moffat

“Molly started really as a one shot character, really, in the pilot, doing that first scene just to help introduce Sherlock. And it’s just one of those magical things because Lou Brealey was so brilliant in the part. And it was so automatically funny to see Sherlock with her. But she’s as a character, she’s grown the most of anyone in that series. She’s so totally different now and continues to be that. I have to keep reminding myself you haven’t seen the next two. So there’s a lot to come with that. She’s the first person to make Sherlock apologize. And in extremis, while Sherlock was faking emotion when he was talking to John from the rooftop, just to make sure he was so totally upset he wouldn’t notice that the man was actually alive and had a squash ball in his armpit, when he goes to Molly, he’s being genuinely emotional. So she’s a hugely important character and a surprise to us because we never really intended to add any characters to the original canon. But here we have” - Steven Moffat

“Look how pretty Loo looks. She’s gorgeous” - Benedict Cumberbatch

“You didn’t have to come in, Molly” - Sherlock Holmes, A Scandal in Belgravia, S2.01

“You do count. You’ve always counted and I’ve always trusted you” - Sherlock Holmes, The Reichenbach Fall S2.03

“You look well” - Sherlock Holmes, The Sign of Three, S3.02

“The one person he thought didn’t matter at all to me was the one person that mattered the most” - Sherlock Holmes, The Empty Hearse, S3.01

“What do I do?” - Sherlock Holmes, His Last Vow, S3.03

“I’m sorry. Forgive me. Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper” - Sherlock Holmes, A Scandal in Belgravia, S2.01

“You can see me” - Sherlock Holmes, The Reichenbach Fall, S2.03

“Would you…would you like to solve crimes?” - Sherlock Holmes, The Empty Hearse, S3.01

“For the sake of law and order, I suggest you avoid all future attempts at a relationship, Molly” - Sherlock Holmes, The Reichenbach Fall, S2.03

“You’ve changed your hair. The style, it’s usually parted in the middle. It’s nice. suits you better this way” - Sherlock Holmes, The Blind Banker, S1.02

“You” - Benedict Cumberbatch/Sherlock Holmes

“I will always ship Sherlock and Molly” - The Oxford English Dictionary

“Molly is so important. So fucking important” - Steven Moffat

long story short: