The Real Children

Unbetaed.  At this point I just want to get it up and posted.

Mycroft gets an emergency phone call from John and cause leads to affect and affect leads to knowledge.

Mycroft’s mobile rung at two-thirty in the morning, just as he closed his laptop.  He looked down at it, sitting its precise distance from the edge of his laptop, just before his work mobile.  It didn’t alarm him to receive a call so early in the morning, he often received calls at all hours.  The empty space above the answer icon did alarm him however, he only saw that non-number in relation to a single person.

“Dr. Watson?”  Tucking the phone between shoulder and ear, he picked up his work mobile to text the necessary parties.

“I need immediate medical assistance.”  The tight authoritative command in his voice only served to alarm Mycroft further.  Muffled by the press between John’s shoulder and chin, he could still hear ragged, rapid action in the background.  The puff of breathing of someone man handing someone else.  A rip, a tear, a jagged chasm of a gasp, the wrong tone for John’s voice.  “Cooper Heights flats.  We’re on the roof.”

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Creepypasta #1002: A Fork In The Road

Length: Long

This was an experience I had while driving to Disneyland with my family. We lived in Idaho so it was quite a drive to get there. If you’ve ever driven that route, you know there’s a lot of empty space between towns. If you’re driving at the right time of day or night, there’s almost no cars around. You can set your cruise control at about 90 MPH and not worry about other people for a few miles

In the car, we had my mom and dad, me, and my younger brother and sister. I was 16 at the time.

We were driving through a canyon just as it was getting dark. We’d already been driving for quite a while, and my dad, who was driving, insisted we would push through and not get a hotel. I was staring up at the massive stacks of rock and dirt that made mountains when there was a loud ‘TWAP’ followed by a repeated thudding. I was thrown forward as dad slammed on the brakes and pulled to the side of the road.

My dad growled a curse, and my mom shot him a look.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Flat tire, are you kidding?”

He tossed his door open and got out, shutting it behind him. I watched him walk around the car, yanking my earbuds out. Josh and Nikki, my siblings, watched him too.

He said something we couldn’t hear before visibly sighing and opening the trunk of our little Impala. He started to pull out our bags and set them on the side of the road. Pausing, he came to my door and opened it.

“Keith, can you come help me with this?” Dad resigned. I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out. The air had that chilling nibble, as it was early September. That used to be my favorite feeling, but now I hate it.

We hauled stuff out of the trunk to the side of the road until we could lift the spare tire out of the bottom of the trunk. The tire was set next to the passenger-rear tire, and dad grabbed the jack from the trunk.

Dad had everyone get out and stand in the gravel while he lifted the car with the jack. I think I remember someone made a fat joke.

Dad unscrewed the nuts on the shredded tire while we wandered a little. The road was elevated slightly above the surrounding terrain. The gravel descended a few feet and gave way to grass and weeds. I walked towards a cool-looking tree that looked like a face in the dimming twilight. Of course, the closer I got, the more the face disappeared.

When I got to the tree, I looked around. Mountains created barriers all around us. It was a miracle that water or men or whatever it was had carved through the mountain ranges so we could go through them rather than around.

I was an introspective kid, as you can tell.

A sudden crack made me jump. I spun around, facing the slope behind me that led to the impassable peaks. I couldn’t see anything in the dim light, but I heard another crack. Then another. A rock the size of my head bounced past just a few yards to my left.

I released the breath I’d been holding. Just a rock.

The scare made me want to head back. As I walked back towards the car, I saw the rock roll slowly up to the gravel incline before stuttering to a stop. My mom, who was still by the car, looked back when she heard it.

“Honey, be careful rolling rocks down the mountain. You might accidentally hit a car,” she said patiently.

“It wasn’t me,” I said. “It flew past me on its way down.”

She accepted my answer and turned to keep watching my dad. He had just finished unscrewing the last nut.

He lifted the flat tire off the axle and set it in the gravel next to the spare. Then, he rolled the spare over to mount it on the car.

I walked over to the tire. It wasn’t just flat. It was absolutely shredded. I leaned over and held the black rubber up. There were three slashes straight through the entire tire that ran around almost the entire circumference. What would cause that? We had to have hit something.

I started to walk up the road and was instantly joined by my two siblings, who had previously been occupied in the grassy area.

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Lady Grantham’s Gift

Okay, so I may have taken a few liberties with characterization here with Elsie and Charles, but I don’t think that it’s too far outside of what they’re like - and may be like as happily married people.  This is in response to my head seizing on the lovely Phyllis Logan saying that someone should get the couple a Kama Sutra for a wedding gift and the fact that in my head canon Cora has lots of books for such instruction (that she keeps as far away from Robert as possible if only because he becomes too eager and excited and ends up hurting himself or her if he has more than one new thing he could learn at a time).

If it’s not up your alley in terms of characterization, you can call it a crack!fic if you like.  I just hope you enjoy!  It was meant to be a bit of fun!

Possibly some spoilers for Series 6, episode 3.

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