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jaggedlittleteacup · 3 years

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Part Four

Note: For @psychosociogentleman. @call-me-moo, sorry for not posting this yesterday!

(Recap: Y/N has to talk Sherlock down from violently beating down his own brother. It is revealed that you spent a stint in Sherrinford, but why? And how will you go about convincing John that Sherlock’s behaviour was justified?)

You lean against the wall and take a couple slow, deep breaths. It’s been a few hours since Sherlock’s little birthday ‘incident’, and you’ve safely deduced that Mycroft will not be attending your little brother’s celebratory dinner. That leaves you, John, and Sherlock. And you’ve still yet to talk down John.

The clock is ticking.

You finally exhale and walk upstairs, before knocking on (what you presume to be) John’s bedroom door. A muffled groan is your answer, so you nod, satisfied, and walk in.

You’re greeted by the sight of your brother’s flatmate lying facedown in bed, trouser-less, and looking fantastically miserable. “My trousers are covered in vodka, Sherlock. I’m not going to your sodding dinner,” he grumbles, face still pressed in a pillow. John doesn’t acknowledge your presence further.

Mummy raised a conservative household. She would have fainted at the sight of this.

You’re not sure what to say. A sound of what appears to be your organs collapsing in on themselves escapes your mouth- in fact, it is almost akin to the noise a computer makes when faced with a command it cannot understand. The word pops into your mind: Short-circuiting.

“Go! Away!” John barks, before opening one eye and settling his gaze on your horrified expression. “Oh.” The word is faint, whispered. The cogs of his brain are slowly turning, shaking off the bit of punch he had and comprehending everything in front of him.

“I should go,” you mumble hoarsely, turning on your heel and quickly making your way to the exit.

“Wait!” In John’s haste to stop you, he leaps out of bed- or, correction, attempts to leap out of bed, but his foot is caught in the bedsheet and he manages to slam face-first onto the rug. “Shit!” he swears loudly, grimacing in pain as he reaches for his drawers and pulls out a pair of trousers, before working them on and stumbling towards you. “Don’t go, I’m sorry for being such a cock. Even if it was meant for your brother.”

Bewildered, you nod, although you remain close to the door in case you have to make a run for it. “I wanted to talk to you, on behalf of my little brother,” you explain, trying to remember the reason why you were there in the first place.

“The bastard can talk to me himself if he wants to apologise. I don’t want some proxy doing his work- that’s Mycroft’s job,” John snaps, buttoning the top of his trousers and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t shoot the messenger?” you say, a poor attempt at humour.

John is stone-faced.

You file away a curt mental note under a part of your brain that is quickly filling with the word ‘John’.

Do not use humour in serious and/or volatile situations. Uncomfortable or tense situations still unknown.

“I’m not apologising for Sherlock,” you try again, this time edging a bit closer to John. “I wanted to explain why he did what he did, and perhaps convince you to go to his dinner. He…well, I’m quite sure he wouldn’t be too pleased if I were the only one attending.”

John hesitates for a moment, fiddling with the knitted edge of his jumper as he thinks. Finally, he speaks. “Why? Why would he attack Mycroft out of…out of bloody nowhere, for Christ’s sake?!” he shouts, before lowering his voice. (Possibly because of a father who- no, you need to focus on the matter at hand.)

“He was defending me,” you say quietly.

He stops. He stops talking, he stops fiddling- for a moment, it seems he has stopped breathing. “He…Sherlock was- what would Mycroft- Oh, the bastard-“

“John, Sherlock is not at fault!” you exclaim, rushing towards the bed in the event you’d need to stop him from attacking Sherlock- something, unfortunately, that John has a tendency towards doing.

“It’s not Sherlock,” John snarls, his breathing heavy. “It’s Mycroft! He’s done this so- so fucking often- too often! It’s the last time, I swear to GOD!”

You flinch. Uncontrollably, unwillingly, perhaps, but still it happens, and still John notices.

“Listen…” His voice grows steadily softer, “I shouldn’t have shouted. But that isn’t going to keep me from shoving Mycroft’s umbrella up his-“

“-I’ve heard enough, thank you,” you interrupt, not even realising you’ve sat down on the edge of the bed. “I would be most grateful if you were to attend Sherlock’s dinner. If not for him, then for the secret sibling who is now asking you kindly.”

He snorts. “Secret?”

You lower your voice, almost conspiratorially. “We used to have another brother, you know? Before I came along…Mummy kept me in the attic for twenty years, and Daddy would only let me read the encyclopaedia…” you whisper. “Sherlock, Boreas, and Mycroft were all forbidden to see me, and only heard of me to frighten them during bedtime. One day, I picked the lock and escaped, but not before stealing the knife from the kitchen, and, well…” You drag a finger along your throat, causing John to visibly pale. “There’s a reason there are only three Holmes children now.”

John swallows. “Is that true?”

You smile wickedly. “Will you go to dinner if I inform you of a concealed knife in my left pocket?”

He nods.

“And will you go if I told you I lied about the whole thing?”

John throws his pillow at you and stands up, still looking a bit queasy. “You’re a cock. Just like your brother- just like both of your brothers,” he says accusingly, although there is no trace of malice in his voice. “I’ll go, Y/N. But only if you promise to never threaten me with death again.”

“Boreas tried the same thing,” you muse, before another pillow hits you square in the face.

#bbc #sherlock holmes #john watson #sherlock #jim moriarty #johnlock #but just a little #mycroft holmes #x reader #boreas #lol #i think i’m fucking hilarious

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possiblyimbiassed · 4 years

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“E” as in Eurus, Enola and Estate

In June this year the Conan Doyle Estate Ltd filed a lawsuit against an impending Holmes adaptation movie on Netflix (article from RadioTimes here: X).

Sherlock, Mycroft and Enola, starring Henry Cavill, Sam Claflin and Millie Bobby Brown.

This post about it by @tendergingergirl (X) seems to have gone largely unnoticed, but I think it deserves far more attention. In fact, it got me thinking “What’s all this actually about?” and looking a few things up.

My curiosity about the doings of this Estate began in December last year, before the release of BBC Dracula in January, when an interesting discussion initiated after an excellent meta by @yeah-oh-shit (X), who had made some investigations into previous copyright and public domain issues and lawsuits, which I had never known about before.

And now it turns out that the Conan Doyle Estate Ltd (from here on I’ll call them ‘ACD Estate’) is suing the film makers, along with Nancy Springer, author of a book series based on characters from the Holmes universe called The Enola Holmes Mysteries (2006-2010), for copyright infringement.

But I thought most of ACD’s Sherlock Holmes stories are now in public domain, including the Illustrious Client, the Sussex Vampire and the Three Garridebs, whose copyright under US law expired last year (2019)? Well, yes, but that’s still not all of them, and according to ACD Estate “for those of the stories whose copyright terms have ended, this action is brought within the three-year limitations period for infringement.”

More under the cut.

So, the ACD Estate’s copyright, they claim, still includes the following ten stories collected in The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes:

The Creeping Man (1923)

The Illustrious Client (1924)

The Three Garridebs (1924)

The Sussex Vampire (1924)

The Retired Colourman (1926)

The Lion’s Mane (1926)

The Three Gables (1926)

The Blanched Soldier (1926)

Shoscombe Old Place (1927)

The Veiled Lodger (1927)

The whole lawsuit can be downloaded as a PDF file from this news article (X), and it’s quite an interesting read.

Claims about Sherlock Holmes’ emotions

So, since this is not the first lawsuit from the ACD Estate about adaptations, what’s their beef with the film makers this time? As far as I can see from their claims, this is about Sherlock Holmes’ emotions.

This is how the ACD Estate reads Holmes’ character development in the lawsuit: “Conan Doyle made the surprising artistic decision to have his most famous character—known around the world as a brain without a heart—develop into a character with a heart. Holmes became warmer. He became capable of friendship. He could express emotion. He began to respect women. His relationship to Watson changed from that of a master and assistant to one of genuine friendship. Watson became more than just a tool for Holmes to use. He became a partner.”

They even quote the famous passage in The Three Garridebs (3GAR, 1924) where Watson says: “It was worth a wound—it was worth many wounds—to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask.”

But all this progress, they claim, specifically happened within these ten still (allegedly) copyrighted stories, which Conan Doyle wrote after World War One, where he had the traumatic experience of losing both his son and his brother.

They claim that Holmes’ emotional development is still under their copyright (which I believe in practise means their power to decide whether to allow a film adaptation or not) and apart from the emotions issue, they also provide the following other examples of developments that are (supposedly) unique to these ten still copyrighted stories:

Holmes employs a knowledge of medicine in Watson’s absence

Holmes and Watson use modern technologies in detective work for the first time

Watson marries a second time during his association with Holmes (BLAN)

Holmes changes into someone who has great interest in dogs

Sherlock’s “secret sister”

The Enola Holmes Mysteries got me interested, and now I’ve read the two first of six instalments in total. The series is about Sherlock’s and Mycroft’s younger sister Enola, a clever teenager whom the brothers – in particular Mycroft - want to send away to a boarding school after their mother has disappeared and abandoned her. But Enola hates the idea of being confined to a place where she will be forced to wear a corset and restricted to a certain (‘female’) behaviour at all times. She escapes to London, where she starts a secret private detective career specialising in investigations of missing persons. Enola must keep ahead of her brothers who are determined to capture and force her to conform to Victorian society’s expectations for young women. She skilfully uses different disguises, just like Sherlock, and she meets John Watson pretending to be someone else. With her cleverness she manages to outwit even Sherlock. She is good at drawing and uses her sketches in her work. She manages to communicate with her mother (and eventually also with Sherlock) by using ciphers.

All of this does seem to have certain similarities with how Eurus Holmes is described in S4, doesn’t it?

Eurus is, like Enola, the secret Holmes sister whom we never have heard of before.

In TFP Mycroft claims Eurus’ intellect was superior to both Sherlock’s and his own; she was “incandescent”.

We see little Eurus draw sketches of her family members (not very pleasant sketches when it comes to Sherlock, though).

Mycroft made sure Eurus was sent away to an isolated prison/institution (Sherrinford) at an early age.

Their parents seemed absent and not particularly interested in the whereabouts of their own daughter (they didn’t even know she was alive); they let Mycroft and ‘Uncle Rudy’ take care of things, so one could easily suspect she was abandoned.

Eurus seems to have escaped to London at her own leisure, while Mycroft thought she was incarcerated.

Eurus appears in London under three different disguises: “E” (flirting and texting with John),

“Faith” (walking the streets of London with Sherlock)

and John’s new therapist.

Eurus makes riddles with codes for Sherlock to decipher (“The cipher was the song”).

So, one might wonder if the Eurus plot is – at least to some degree – inspired by Enola Holmes? On the other hand, while Eurus appears cold and calculating, Enola is compassionate and sensitive and makes mistakes because of emotional bias. Enola seems more similar to Eurus’ disguised personas than to the supposedly ‘real’ Eurus - the one who burned the family estate down and killed Victor Trevor.

I still believe that Eurus only exists inside Sherlock’s head in BBC Sherlock, being a part of himself, but that’s for another discussion.

As for the Holmes siblings, it’s also interesting that on the ACD Estate’s website, where they have a collection of ’facts’ about ACD’s characters, they seem to have included BBC Sherlock’s Eurus as a valid sibling of Sherlock and Mycroft (scroll down to “Holmes facts” on this page: X), even though this character is nowhere to be found in canon. Please correct me if I’m wrong about this, but the only reference I can find to ”the East Wind” in ACD’s stories is in His Last Bow (LAST, 1917), where Holmes says that ”There’s an east wind coming, Watson”, and goes on to talk about a cold, bitter wind that is threatening England; most probably a reference to WWI, which was raging at the time of publication. No one with the name Eurus is ever mentioned, though. If Eurus had already been part of canon, why would Mofftiss have claimed her to be the big ”rug-pull” in TFP?

I haven’t read the final part in the Enola Holmes series (X) yet, where allegedly Enola reconciles with her brothers (Sherlock in particular) and they end up respecting her independence and skills. But according to several reviews Sherlock softens up a bit in the end. In the parts I have read, the two adult brothers appear rather conservative, patronising and sexist towards their younger sister – indeed more condescending than I think Holmes view of women actually is described in ACD’s original stories (allegedly – we never see him treat women badly in practice, do we?). At any rate, I haven’t this far been able to find a single specific plot element from the ten (supposedly) still copyrighted stories in Springer’s work.

In their lawsuit, the ACD Estate claims that “The Springer novels make extensive infringing use of Conan Doyle’s transformation of Holmes from cold and critical to warm, respectful, and kind in his relationships. Springer places Enola Holmes at the center of the novels and has Holmes initially treat her coolly, then change to respond to her with warmth and kindness.”

So what they’re doing here is the same thing they’ve done before (and lost): they’re claiming they still own some intrinsic characteristics of Sherlock Holmes, even though most of the stories are already in public domain.

Other lawsuits

A similar lawsuit towards Miramax (X) was made in 2015 for the film Mr Holmes, which had Ian McKellen as protagonist. But it ended in settlement before the defendants had responded to the accusations, which were similar to those regarding Enola Holmes about Holmes’ emotional life, but also had to do with the details of Holmes’ life as a retired man.

So, this is not the first time the copyright owners are interfering with content in Holmes adaptations. To complicate things further there seems to be two different estates claiming copyright for Doyle’s work. In 2010 there was some reporting that another estate had threatened Guy Richie’s Sherlock Holmes movies with disapproval after Robert Downey Junior had discussed Holmes possibly being gay on a TV show (X). According to Digital Spy, Andrea Plunket, who then represented the ‘Arthur Conan Doyle Literary Estate’, said: "I hope this is just an example of Mr Downey's black sense of humour. It would be drastic, but I would withdraw permission for more films to be made if they feel that is a theme they wish to bring out in the future. I am not hostile to homosexuals, but I am to anyone who is not true to the spirit of the books."

It’s very unclear which legal rights Andrea Plunket’s family (Andrea apparently died in 2016) actually has to represent ACD’s work, though. Andrea had been married to one of the copyright owners, and her family’s money had paid for the purchase of those rights, but after her divorce Andrea seems to have lost her part in the copyright, according to @mallamun on tumblr: (X). There’s also a lot of interesting things to read about these copyright issues in an article by Mattias Bodström from 2015: (X). However, there’s still a website from ‘Arthur Conan Doyle Literary Estate’ claiming ownership of the stories: X, and they have published a detailed account of their version of the matter (X).

The current case

I have no idea what the court will think about these new accusations against Netflix et al, but to me, if this isn’t farfetched, I don’t know what is. I think a good case could be made for most of these ‘unique’ elements listed above being expressed already before the Case Book. For example, in His Last Bow (LAST, 1917) they use a car, in The Dying Detective (DYIN, 1913) Holmes manages to fool Dr Watson that he’s very sick. When Watson declares his intent to marry for the first time already in The Sign of Four (SIGN, 1890), Holmes resorts to drugs. The dogs are all over the place since day one, and Holmes seems to appreciate them very much, not least Toby in SIGN.

And don’t get me started on the contradictions in Watson’s various discussions of whether Holmes has a heart. Holmes’ actions of helping people often contradicts the image of a cold, emotionless person. The Yellow Face (YELL, 1893) ends with Holmes being deeply repentant for being over-confident in his suspicion of a woman for adultery or maybe worse offences, when she was actually only trying to protect her little daughter from society’s racism.

In the Devil’s Foot (DEVI, 1910) there’s the following conversation (my bolding): “Upon my word, Watson!” said Holmes at last with an unsteady voice, “I owe you both my thanks and an apology. It was an unjustifiable experiment even for one’s self, and doubly so for a friend. I am really very sorry.” “You know,” I answered with some emotion, for I had never seen so much of Holmes’s heart before, “that it is my greatest joy and privilege to help you.”

Why on earth would it be a “surprising artistic decision” from ACD to develop Holmes into a little more caring and openly compassionate person as he grew older? Isn’t that the very classical character development of any literary hero’s journey and also a logical personal development for many people in the real world? It’s called ‘learning’ and ‘maturing’, as far as I know. To claim this is infringement of some unique idea is frankly ridiculous.

In short: They make a very literal, textual interpretation of the Holmes character, cherry-picking the parts that suit their interests, they claim there’s a clear story arc with very separate characteristics before and after WWI, and that they own the end of it. Thus, no adaptation with a progressive story arc regarding Holmes’ character would be permitted without their consent. Since apparently BBC Sherlock have ACD’s Estate’s license for their own franchise, this just makes me wonder how much trouble Mofftiss et al had with including things like Sherlock’s and John’s hug in TLD, or his emotional breakdown with the coffin after Eurus’ experiments on him in TFP.

Possible satirical meaning and small hints

Allow me to speculate a bit about the possible implications of BBC Sherlock in relation to the Estate. In a recent excellent meta by @raggedyblue, the ACD Estate as ‘Doyle’s bank’ is discussed, regarding the significance of the banker Sebastian Wilkes in The Blind Banker (X). Many interesting ideas are presented in this meta, I really recommend a read. This topic also initiated an interesting discussion about Doyle himself mirroring John in this post by @devoursjohnlock (X).

In an addition to that meta @shylockgnomes brings up John’s blog post about Tilly Briggs as another possible reference to the Estate (X). I totally agree with this; some time around the release of BBC Dracula this year, and our discussions about legal issues connected to both shows, I stumbled upon this particular ‘aborted’ blog post and came to realise its possible significance. It gave me the idea to change the title of my own blog to “Tilly Briggs Ship with Johnlock on it”, since I suspect that the blog post might be a clue about legal obstacles to a certain relationship. And that title is staying, at least until we know the true story (if ever).

Canon contains some info about Matilda Briggs is in The Sussex Vampire, one of the late ACD stories that should be in public domain by now, since the copyright supposedly expired in December 2019. But, as shown above, the Estate now claims there’s a three-year lapse when they can still sue for infringement. Here’s the quote from SUSS (my bolding): “Matilda Briggs was not the name of a young woman, Watson,” said Holmes in a reminiscent voice. “It was a ship which is associated with the giant rat of Sumatra, a story for which the world is not yet prepared.” Sumatra, by the way, was Sherlock’s preferred destination in the TST tale of the merchant who met Death in Samarra. In Sherlock’s version, according to Mycroft, the merchant survived and became a pirate... ;-)

John’s aborted blog post (X) is titled “Tilly Briggs Cruise of Terror”, which just might be yet another little jibe at the Estate. John says that “I had to take this post down for a while as the ship's owners are launching an appeal”. According to Jacob Sowersby (a Sherlock fan on the blog) and Mike Stamford, this was “mind-blowing stuff”:

So I can’t help thinking this sounds like a hint to us about the Estate and a certain ‘ship’ which is still partly in their (legal) power and control. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if the whole show - on the meta level - is partly meant as a satirical commentary on how Holmes’ and Watson’s characters, and therefore also their relationship, have been treated the last 100+ years by their ‘owners’. A treatment where I believe the hetero norm has always ruled, and where Andrea Plunket’s quote above indicates that homophobia regarding Holmes and Watson is still tied to legal obstacles.

Charles Augustus Magnussen also talks about ownership at the beginning of HLV (thanks for the quotes, Ariane DeVere): “Of course it isn’t blackmail. This is... ownership”. And later in the episode: “It’s all about knowledge. Everything is. Knowing is owning”. In fact, quite a bit of emphasis in HLV is put on Magnussen’s ‘ownership’ of characters people: “I’m a businessman, acquiring assets. You happen to be one of them!” Apparently - as this new lawsuit shows - it’s even possible to make money out of Holmes’ emotions.

@catwillowtree also pointed out, in another additional thread to @raggedyblue’s meta, that Eurus’ burning down Musgrave Hall – the family estate - in TFP also seems like a reference to the ACD Estate. I would add to this, saying that the bomb that didn’t go off in TEH and the “patience grenade” that did go off in TFP might have to do with the same issue. What would happen if the ‘bomb’ of Johnlock would go off before the relevant stories are legally in public domain? Most probably another lawsuit from the Estate, which might become very expensive.

Come to think of it, in TGG Greg Lestrade mentions an estate agent, when Sherlock receives a text message and a phone call on the pink phone from Moriarty: “What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent’s photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!” Well, if the Estate agent is somehow connected to the five pips, that fandom theory of the pips representing five series in the show comes to mind... For every pip in TGG there’s a victim covered in explosives; a huge bomb threatening to go off. (The third bomb did go off in TGG, but in S3 Sherlock found the ‘off-switch’ in time). If the fifth bomb is to explode in S5, I bet it won’t be until the relevant stories are safely in public domain. 2023?

More wild speculation while I’m at it: Maybe Sherlock and Ajay’s smashing of Thatcher busts in TST also ties in metaphorically to the same topic? The Thatcher era was not easy for LGBTQ people. There are several owners in TST whose Thatcher busts need to be smashed in order for Ajay’s lost memory stick to be recovered. AGRA is referred to as Ajay’s and Mary’s “family”. The memory stick contains personal information, ‘who you really are’. Could be read as if the info of who Sherlock Holmes really is can only be released once certain obstacles are overcome...

In another interesting meta from last year by @yeah-oh-shit (X), they mention the secret underground station at Sumatra road in TEH, where Howard Shilcott tells Sherlock and John that “They built the platforms, even the staircases, but it all got tied up in legal disputes, so they never built the station on the surface.” So maybe S5 is basically already written? It would make sense to me if the long hiatus we’re facing right now has a far more logical reason than the excuses Mofftiss have presented in interviews - the risk of legal disputes with the copyright owners.

Tagging some more people who might be interested: @gosherlocked @ebaeschnbliah @sarahthecoat @sagestreet @thepersianslipper

ETA: I have corrected some details about the copyright owners in this post; thanks @devoursjohnlock for pointing them out!

#The Conan Doyle Estate

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missmollybloom · 3 years

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New Fic: Couples Retreat

Summary: Two months after the phonecall from Sherrinford and Sherlock Holmes can tell that things haven’t been the same between the detective and his pathologist. With Molly pulling away from him, will an undercover case at a couples’ retreat be enough for Sherlock to show his pathologist that things can go back to normal between them?

(And, as it’s a Sherlolly fic, do you really think “normal” will remain “normal” for long?)

A/N: So here I am with another WiP. I’m trying a few new things. In terms of plot, I’ve never written a case fic before - so wish me luck! In terms of process I’ve actually plotted the whole thing out so (hopefully!) I shouldn’t write myself into writer’s block and should hopefully update regularly. Here’s to good intentions. I hope you like it!

Also on Ao3 here.

Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes didn’t like change. Of course, this fact shouldn’t have come as a surprise to anyone. He was, after all, a man who had lived in the same flat for the past ten years, worn the same make and style of Belstaff coat for just as long, and once mourned his favourite brand of ball-tip pen going out of business by sulking on the couch for two weeks.

But the change which Sherlock found hurtling towards him this time was no mere inconvenience like the pens, or couldn’t be handled by stocking up on a cupboard full of identical coats. This change had the power of turning his whole world upside down.

So shaken was Sherlock by the news that it took John only five minutes in his presence for him to declare the detective’s mood so “un-fucking-bearable,” that he was banned from visiting John’s flat until he “pulled his head out of his arse.” Both of these statements were said by his friend mere moments before slamming the door in the detective’s face.

Sherlock couldn’t help it. So blindsided was he by the change that was coming upon him that he had no means to process it outside of the piercing verbal barbs he had flung at his friend. Barbs that were not received well and would, in any other circumstances, have led to a black eye or two.

Sherlock got off lucky – nary a bruise from John shoving him out the door - and only because John knew the one fact that Sherlock was only just discovering: If Molly Hooper left London, Sherlock Holmes would be lost.

Even though Sherlock had no idea before that day that Molly was even contemplating such a thing, there were hints that he missed.

Although he and Molly had been able to continue working together after the awkwardness of explaining that phone call to her, things in the past few months were decidedly different from before.

Molly, for her part, took his explanation well, understanding the situation Eurus had put him in. Nevertheless, there had certainly been a reserve in their exchanges ever since. Sure, she’d do the autopsies he requested, and would work late to run extra tests, but it was all delivered with the cool detachment of a colleague, none of the warmth he’d come to expect, value, even enjoy from Molly.

Even their companionship, the comfortable silence spent working side-by-side in the lab had evaporated over the last few months.

Earlier that morning, the morning Sherlock’s world fell off its axis, he strode into an empty lab that he could tell she’d only just vacated. At the time, it didn’t even cross his mind that she was making every effort to limit her time with him.

But now, as he lay on the couch in Baker street, reflecting on the day that was, he realised that she most certainly was.

---

Earlier that day, Molly heard Sherlock’s familiar voice echoing down the hallway outside her lab. On the phone to John, she guessed. She didn’t bother packing up before leaving through the side door, escaping before he could find her in the lab. She needed some air, needed some space, needed anything other than Sherlock Holmes, and Beppe’s café just down the road from Barts would do the trick.

Making herself scarce whenever Sherlock came around was a habit she had formed ever since the phone call from Sherrinford a few months ago. Of course she couldn’t keep working at Bart’s and never see him, it was, as Mycroft Holmes had called it all those years ago, Sherlock’s “home from home”.

Molly decided that she’d do what he needed for his cases but nothing extra.

No late night phone calls where he used her as a sounding board.

No walks through London like they had spent in the long nights of his recovery after the Culverton Smith case.

Certainly no invitations to eat takeaway in her flat.

Not that he had tried to resume any of their friendship rituals since that day, either.

What the detective didn’t see, or couldn’t perceive in all his intellect was that Molly was a woman in pain. Not for any lack of the detective’s observational prowess; rather, Molly didn’t trust herself to give him the opportunity to see her, had built a wall around herself so thick and although the cement hadn’t yet hardened into toughened concrete as yet, she knew well enough that time spent in Sherlock’s presence would only weaken the foundations, causing the wall to crumble and herself to be revealed.

That phone call had for a moment fulfilled every hope she had ever held for their relationship, only to have said hopes dashed with the sudden silence of the suspended phone line. Even if she kept a kindling of the flames alive for a few hours afterwards, his explanation was a deluge of rain, making it impossible to stoke the embers of her hope back to life again.

It was early morning the next day after the phone call when he arrived. He looked like shit and this was in the opinion of someone who had seen him after faking his death, had seen him hanging over a toilet bowl vomiting bile because his detoxing body couldn’t handle any food, had seen him at his lowest.

But his sunken eyes had seen ghosts that day. He’d also, she’d soon learn, seen her on a screen with a countdown timer that – with four men already dead at Eurus’ hands – gave Sherlock no reason not to believe counted the seconds ticking away in the final minutes of Molly’s life.

“I had no other choice, I hope you’ll understand and one day, even forgive me.” He had asked.

“There is nothing to forgive.” She had lied.

The phone call was an experiment, just as he had said. Just not his.

And the words, said twice and so convincingly, were mere lies to save her life.

How could she ever be so daft as to believe them to be true?

She needed time and space to rebuild from the ashes – which was becoming increasingly difficult with the frequency with which Sherlock had been visiting Barts in the last week.

But Molly Hooper had another plan. There was another way she could maintain her space and heal her heart.

---

Sherlock lay across the lounge at Baker Street. His hands were steepled under his chin as he replayed the events of the day again, scouring them for any hints at what was to come.

Sherlock was about to follow Molly out to her favourite lunch place when his phone rang. Normally, he’d ignore a call from his mother, but with the wounds wrought by Eurus’ reappearance from the dead still raw, he had softened of late in his treatment of his parents.

The recovered memories from his childhood now revealed why his parents had always fretted over him so much.

“Morning mother,” he began.

“Oh Sherlock, I’m so glad you answered. Are you well?”

“Yep,” he said, popping the P. “Is that why you called? Checking in on my health? Because it’s easier to text.”

“No dear, it’s Cheryl Williamson – do you remember her, from my square dancing troupe?”

“Yes,” he lied, without any attempt to sound convincing.

His mother continued, “Well it’s her son, James. Well actually it’s his wife Melanie. You see, she’s missing and I was hoping-“

“Solved it.” He cut her off. “She left him.”

“No! That’s just the thing!” His mother persisted, “They’d just been to a couples’ retreat.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. So far, so boring.

“Can you please look into it for me?”

He didn’t have the heart to say no. But he also knew how little attention he could give such a case and still count it as keeping his promise to his mother. Five minutes on the internet should do the trick.

“Of course I will.”

Sherlock hung up before his mother finished showering him with effusive praise.

He needed a computer, and he knew just where to find one.

Having succeeded in avoiding Sherlock earlier, Molly was shocked to find him in her office sat at her computer when she returned to Bart’s.

“Sorry. I had a case,” was his greeting.

“Won’t be long,” he added, all without looking up from the screen.

“Oh, that’s ok, I’ll just-“ Molly placed down her take-away bag from Beppe’s café on the desk and turned to leave.

“You can stay.” He said, gesturing to the visitor’s chair. “It is your office after all.”

As much as she wanted to leave, there was a not insignificant part of her that missed the companionship they used to share as they worked together in the lab. She opened the take-away tiramisu cake and started eating it.

“MrsDawson1976 isn’t a very strong password, Molly”.

“I’ll be sure to change it.”

“I would have pegged you for a Pacey fan, anyway.”

“I would have assumed you would have deleted all knowledge of American teen dramas from the 1990s.”

She should have left it at that, but it was Sherlock and he was on a case, so curiosity got the better of her.

“What’s the case?” she couldn’t help asking.

“Missing woman. Wife of a son of a friend of my mum’s.”

“What a good boy you are,” Molly teased with a wry smile. “Any leads?”

“Not a one,” Sherlock said, frowning, eyes scouring the screen for more clues. “It seems that she left early from a couples retreat four weeks ago and vanished, leaving no trace.”

This was where she would usually chime in. This was where she would have joined him on his side of the desk, standing so close that she could see the stubble forming on his chin, nose filled with the scent of him, a scent she craved and had to admit she had been missing.

But she didn’t join him.

Instead, she stood.

“Good luck with it,” Molly said, standing, punctuating her exit by throwing the empty cake container in the bin.

---

Sherlock watched her go. It was the longest time she’d voluntarily spent in his presence in months, and it had only been a few minutes.

He had seen in her a vacillation, a moment in which she may have come and helped him, but it evaporated in an instant, and Sherlock was left alone.

His searches for Melanie Williamson had yielded no clues. Her mobile phone was dead. Her accounts had not been accessed. Her car remained on the street where she’d parked it in front of her flat before taking the train to North Norfolk for the couples’ retreat.

The woman, it seemed, had evaporated.

Curious indeed.

Online avenues of inquiry all exhausted, Sherlock was about to turn off Molly’s computer when an email alert popped up. Normally, her inbox was full of messages from Mike Stamford, or questions from her various trainees, or subscriptions to online shopping sales from H+M or Topshop, her brands of choice.

He would have ignored all these. But not this one. This one he had to open based on the preview text alone.

From: [email protected]

Subject: Progress of your application

Dear Doctor Hooper, thank you for your interview on Zoom last week. We are in the final stages of reference checks and will inform you of our decision in the coming week.

Warmly,

Jane Harper

HR manager, Glasgow Royal Hospital.

Molly had applied for another job.

Molly had interviewed for another job.

Said job was in Glasgow.

This wouldn’t do. Sherlock strode out of Molly’s office and upstairs to the one man who could make sense of what was going on.

It turns out that Mike was in the middle of a call when Sherlock arrived, and from what Sherlock heard, it was the reference check that the email referred to.

“Hang up.” Sherlock declared.

“Sorry?” Mike said.

“Hang up!”

Sherlock didn’t wait, placing his fingers on the receiver cradle to cut off the call.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Mike asked, face reddening.

“What do you think you’re doing, Mike? Molly can’t leave Bart’s!”

“She can if she wants to, mate. Do you know how many headhunters have been after her in the past 10 years? She’s said no to every single one.”

“But what has changed?” He asked himself, rather than Mike.

---

Having reviewed all available data from the day, Sherlock stood from the lounge. Taking his violin out of its case, he plucked at the strings, hoping the familiarity of the instrument would give him peace, help him understand.

He didn’t know how long he had been playing, or precisely what he had been playing, but from the look on Mrs Hudson’s face, it had been a while, and not necessarily music that was soothing to the soul.

“I need to sleep Sherlock,” his landlady had pleaded. “I’ve got the ladies coming over to play bridge tomorrow.”

In the past he would have snapped at her. In the past he would have taken out his frustrations on the wall or on the mantlepiece.

Instead, he stood, grabbing his coat and leaving without a word.

He walked for hours through the streets of London. It was a habit he used to do alone, but during his detox and recovery, Molly had joined him.

Over the course of a few weeks he had shown her all the cases he could remember, those details he hadn’t deleted or outsourced to John’s blog to keep an historical record of.

As he walked tonight, he wasn’t recounting cases, he wasn’t even focusing on the case at hand – the disappearance of Melanie Williamson. All his attention, all his mental energy was spent unpacking the curious behaviour of his pathologist.

It was obvious that Eurus’ little game, her emotional vivisection, was not without its cost. He could see that now, so clearly. Molly had withdrawn from him, and rightly so. But, if he was honest, he had allowed her to.

It would only take one visit to her flat with chips, one phonecall to chat through his thinking in a case, one day like the day they’d spent solving crimes together after his return from the dead and she would see what he already knew, that nothing needed to change, they could return to how things were before Eurus came and fucked everything up between them.

And that was the answer – a case – and one staring him in the face!

Two birds, one stone.

---

It was 5am when Molly awoke to a not unfamiliar sight of Sherlock Holmes stood over her bed.

“What is it?” she said, voice horse, eyes bleary.

“I need help with a case.”

Molly reached for her dressing gown, pulling it tightly around her as she sat up.

“Is there a body?” she asked.

“No.”

“Well, is there some test you need?”

“No.”

“Then what do you need?”

“You-“ a beat, the couplet had passed between them on a night completely different from this one.

Sensing the charged atmosphere in the air, Sherlock continued.

“Four weeks ago, Melanie and James Williamson attended a couples retreat in North Norfolk. Melanie left the retreat early and hasn’t been seen from since.”

“So what do you need?”

“I need you to go undercover with me at the retreat.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No – I’m sure you’ve heard the word before Sherlock.” Molly paced to the kitchen, putting on the kettle.

“I’m familiar with it, but I don’t understand,” he said as he followed her.

“I can’t drop everything and go chasing after white rabbits with you whenever you feel like it.”

Sherlock didn’t understand the reference.

“Alice in Wonderland, look it up sometime.”

Sherlock persisted in his questioning “Why not?”

“I’m not John. I’m not your partner. I’m your-“ Molly paused, stuck for words. “I don’t even know what I am Sherlock. But whatever it is it doesn’t entail being at your beck and call 24/7. I have my own life.”

She didn’t say it but he knew. Glasgow loomed unspoken between them.

He wanted her to stay in London, wanted to tell her how important she was to him, how he couldn’t do his job without her help. He wanted to say he was sorry that things got so fucked up by his sister. He wanted to commit to making things go back to just like they were before the phone call.

He was going to say it all, but the sound of a text alert from Greg sliced through the silence between them.

Sherlock read it, then showed Molly the screen.

James Williamson didn’t show up to work yesterday.

“Two people, Molly. I can’t go in there on my own.”

Everything he could see in Molly, the clench of her jaw, the intake of air sharply through her nose, the fingers balled into fists at her side told him she was about to say no.

Which was why Sherlock was so surprised when she agreed.

“Yes. I’ll go with you.” She said, “but I have some rules first.”

#sherlolly #sherlolly fic #missmollybloom writes sometimes

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hnybnny · 4 years

Text

properly introducing my main fanservants!!!

LOTS OF PHOTOS/ART AND SUCH UNDER THE CUT BUT LIKE,,,, THIS IS JUST. A QUICK INTRODUCTION. TO MY PRIMARY SERVANT BASTARD CHILDREN- (in order of appearance; Sebastian Moran, John Watson, Enola Holmes, Columbia, Thomas Edison (True), Nicolas Flamel, Captain Stormalong, Edgar Allan Poe)

Feel free to hop in my ask box if you wanna talk about them or have any questions!!! Thank you for reading ily-

Colonel Sebastian Moran (Assassin)

My primary servant OC by far! Professor James Moriarty’s chief-of-staff and right hand man- the second most dangerous man in London, after the Napoleon of Crime himself. Nicknamed ‘Basher’ or ‘Tiger Jack’, among others..

Moran is- or was- the most skilled marksman in the British Army, before he was dishonorably discharged. There are only a handful of men on the face of the continent able to shoot as well as he. As well as being an unnaturally skilled shot, he is a devoted sportsman and big-game hunter, and has notoriously tangled with tigers by himself in India- a predator that rather aptly describes the man himself. He authored two books, and his feats are still legendary in India, where his record 'bag of tigers' still goes unmatched. Although his outwards appearance was that of a respectable London gentleman and honorable military veteran, he gained a reputation in the evil underworld and was recruited by James Moriarty, serving as his 'chief of staff' of his criminal empire as well as his personal assassin for jobs that required his peculiar skill with a rifle.

The man is, as one Chaldean staff member puts it, a 'stone-cold badass'. He has a nerve of iron, and is vehemently loyal to both Professor Moriarty and his Master. He lives for danger, and the thrill that comes with 'kill or be killed' situations. Moran is also extremely easy and obvious to read- smiling 'like an idiot' when happy, and 'frowning like thunder' when angry. He does rather enjoy killing people, and is overall a man of few morals (although still having more than the Professor)- which, paired together, is what led to his leave from the military as he's practically a walking example of the 'Colonel Kilgore' trope. The more challenging the kill, the more enjoyment he gets out of it. As a strange upside, Moran has no illusions of how he's a right bastard.

"Ask anyone who knew me in the army, and you'll hear the same things about Basher: tiger in the field, bounder in the mess; a good man to have your back, but a bad man to show your back to; trust him with a fight, but not your sister, your wallet, or a deck of cards."

His Noble Phantasm, which represents his unmatched skill with a rifle, is called BEBR DER KHANH KHALI - Persian for ‘the tiger in the empty house’.

The bullet shot is, unlike others, a specially-made expanding revolver bullet which makes Moran unable to be likely linked to the kill. Much like a ghost or a tiger stalking its prey, he is completely silent in his attack, and the target can never see him coming before they're already dead- and just as quickly he is gone, seemingly disappearing into thin air without a trace.

No matter the conditions or distance, as long as Moran can see his target in some way- whether by the naked eye or through his scope, or perhaps in some other manner- his shot is guaranteed to hit its mark with deadly accuracy.

Also, if you find him not wearing his coat, it’s probably because he gave it to Jack. He loves knife child. They deserve proper clothes.

(source: amon-sheep on twitter)

(source: manalmmune on twitter)

[[LINK TO HIS CHAPTER IN MY FANSERVANT FIC]]

Doctor John Watson (Caster)

The famed Boswell and best friend of the great detective himself. Aman who is most like his traditional origin, as opposed to the heavyset comedic figure modern media tends to make him out to be- aka the Watson that is described by Doyle as a former rugby player, an army man, and popular among the fairer sex due to his handsomeness, intelligence, and charm.

He quickly becomes a proper ‘fatherly’ figure in Chaldea and especially to Master, due to his big dad energies, despite never having the chance to be a father in his life. Chaldea also appreciates finally having a proper doctor that isn’t a Berserker or... whatever’s going on with Ascelpius. Watson is Holmes’s life compass, the loyal companion always by his side who balances the detective out.

Although he’s a caster, he also wields his trusty wartime revolver, and is curious in that, unlike most casters, he has one offensive Noble Phantasm- it’s his secondary, and his primary ‘Conductor of Light’ crystallizes Watson's role as a 'whetstone' for Sherlock Holmes's mind and unmatched stimulator of his famous flatmate's genius. As Holmes himself summarizes, “It may be that you are not yourself luminous, but that you are a conductor of light. Some people without possessing genius have a remarkable power of stimulating it.” This Noble Phantasm is purely supportive, serving to bring out the absolute best in an ally- whether it be manifested in power, magic, or inspiration- and temporarily unlocking a vast wealth of potential that they might not have even known they had. The exact limitations or bounds of it is not known, as it can seemingly extend in purpose as far as Watson or his Master might need it to in a given situation- able to provide buffs, grant moments of unmatched mental clarity or courage, and even unlock hidden abilities and Noble Phantasms if the moment is dire enough. His secondary NP is one he rarely uses, and hates to do so, because of the bad memories it dredges up- called ‘The Reichenbach Solution’, it creates a reality marble recreation of Reichenbach, with the roaring waters and a single shot from Watson himself sending the enemy tumbling off the falls to their demise.

Watson was old friends with Moran in the army, and reconnect during their time in Chaldea (despite Holmes and Moriarty’s protests), and he also joins the ‘author squad’ and spends much time with them. He is a rational man and sturdy as they come, always there when needed; whether it be to patch up wounds, help solve mysteries, or to help Master deal with all the mental trauma from their adventures (because holy shit they need HELP-). Also Also he probably just straight up adopts Mash, he and Holmes are her new gay dads.

(source: gomooink on twitter)

Enola Holmes (Ruler)

If Sherlock is the representation of all great detectives, then the teenage Enola Holmes is the representation of all female sleuths. Originally far too weak to be a servant- her source material being extremely modern (Enola Holmes series by Nancy Springer), she contains the essence of the great detectives of the fairer sex, but most importantly of two Divine spirits- Athena and Persephone (not Ma’at, despite what the image says-), both Greek goddesses. Athena is the dominant of the two, and a maternal figure to Enola, while Persephone is content just to sit back and enjoy the ride.

The younger sister of Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes (and sometimes, the mysterious elder sibling Sherrinford), Enola is much like her more famous brother- similar in lanky stature and physical features, including the prominent hawk-like nose. She is plain in appearance but behind bright eyes hides an intelligent, clever mind, albeit a stubborn and hard-headed one. She is a rebel at heart, resisting the efforts of society to shove her into the mold of a perfect subservient Victorian woman. Enola often uses being underestimated due to her sex and age to her advantage, and, like Sherlock, is quite adept at the art of disguise. With her Spirit Origin also containing figures like Nancy Drew and Miss Marple, Enola is a talented private investigator with a knack for seeing things from angles that other’s can’t- like that of a woman.

Also yeah, she gay. Keep scrolling. She would like to hold hands with Mash very much.

(enola w/ her brother mycroft; source, dewa-chan)

(concepts for her ascensions, mostly cemented, again courtesy of dewa-chan who i owe my life to always and forever-)

Columbia (Ruler)

The Divine Servant calling herself Columbia is a complex individual. At face value, she is the personification of the United States of America, often visualized as a goddess; a quasi-mythical figure first written about by the enslaved poet Phillis Wheatley during the Revolutionary War in her work To His Excellency, George Washington. Columbia is, in fact, an amalgamation of two lesser Divine Spirits. One of them is the Roman goddess of liberty, Libertas. The majority of personifications of liberty are merely aspects and appearances of her, including the Statue of Liberty and the unidentified woman in the painting Liberty Leading the People, leading to Libertas having a more powerful- if rather confusing- Spirit Origin compared to most other minor Roman deities. The other is Columbia herself; a goddess first encountered by Chaldea during the odd adventures with Paul Bunyan. She is the symbol of America, and although she is technically a goddess, she is not worshiped- instead existing as an anthropomorphic personification akin to Uncle Sam. She is a goddess crafted by humankind, a manifestation of the thirst for freedom and equality that resides in the heart of man.

However, her existence is still closely intertwined with Libertas, having come from her 'lineage'; Columbia explains that if other personifications of liberty were to manifest, such as Marianne- the French icon of liberty, they would have to have Libertas accompanying their own Spirit Origin to be anything more than a Phantom. Columbia is not only linked to the nation carrying the name America, but to the land itself- in her earliest incarnations she served as a representation of the Americas- both South and North- to those across the Atlantic. She protects all who walk across the great frontier, and all those who have walked it before. Geronimo often voices his hopes that she is the same goddess that brought the first peoples of the yet-unnamed land delicious maize in abundance; Columbia only ever gives a knowing wink, always keeping the answer to herself.

Columbia tries to speak like a newscaster- that is, without an accent- to hide that fact that her true accent as a Servant is the thickest fucking New York brogue you can imagine. AYYYY, SHE’S WALKIN’ ‘EEEEERE!!!!

She has two Noble Phantasms- a support one, her main, called ‘ TORCH OF THE NEW COLOSSUS: THE DREAM OF A NATION ‘, and an offensive albeit rarely used NP called ‘ STRIKE FOR FREEDOM: DO NOT WEEP, FOR WAR IS KIND ‘ that has anti-Country parameters /because it straight up fuckin’ manifests the american military from all across its history-/

Columbia is just... a big country mom. who can grow to the size of the statue of liberty. whoops.

[[LINK TO HER INTRO CHAPTER IN MY FANSERVANT FIC]]

Thomas Edison (True) (Caster(?))

BASTARD MAN. BASTARD. This Thomas Edison, though being initially called an Alter, is actually the True manifestation of the ‘Wizard of Menlo Park’ without the influence of so many presidential heroic spirits. To match Tesla, he’s a 5*. I have him as Caster but... that’s still up in the air, tbh.

He will steal your Noble Phantasm and claim it as his own. It’s actually one of his Skills- ‘Intellectual Copyright’. It blocks an enemy's ability to use their Noble Phantasm, sealing it for a length of time, while also buffing Edison in return- the strength of the buff received is proportionate to the strength of the sealed Noble Phantasm. This embodies Edison's habit of taking other people's ideas for his own, and while he often improved upon them, he still claimed them as solely his creations. He can copy the abilities of others and shape them to his own needs, always at the ready with a lawsuit in hand if anyone dare complain!

He is not allowed around Ivan or Ganesha due to his history with elephants and electrocution.

His Noble Phantasm (he may have more than one, he gets VERY shifty when asked) is a manifestation of his most terrible and deadly creation- the electric chair. He can also create a reality marble of a fantastical Menlo Park, a thriving center of innovation and invention, using his Territory Creation.

Did I mention he’s a bastard? God, he’s a bastard. He’s incredibly intelligent BUT HE IS A BASTARD. He’s Evil alignment (arguably, may be Chaotic Netural-). It pains Tesla to admit that he actually likes normal Edison (furry man) much more.

Ask him what he did to Louie Le Prince and he’ll sock you in the jaw and take off running (and also not answer).

Nicolas Flamel (Caster)

The Alchemist, the great and immortal Nicolas Flamel himself. He’s a sad old lanky Frenchman DILF dad who misses his wife a lot, and is always ready to throw hands with Merlin and/or Paracelsus. He’s a potential candidate for the Grand Caster class, but is behind Solomon and Merlin in ‘line’. Flamel was a successful French scribe who would gain a reputation as an alchemist after his death in 1418- or at least, his presumed death. He was rumored to have been successful in his creation of the Philosopher's Stone, an artifact with the ability to transmute base metals, and with it was able to create a way to achieve immortality. This Stone was his magnum opus, and he was the first to successfully create it- a fact he makes sure that Paracelsus is aware of at all times.

Also, much like Merlin, he’s not a true Servant. This is THE Nicolas Flamel. But... what happened to Perenelle, his wife? He does not like to talk about it.

He enjoys peace and quiet, educated debate, and reading. Flamel gets on quite well with his fellow Frenchman Dantes, as well as with Waver/El Meloi.

THE DRAGONS OF FLAMEL (Skill): Flamel summons a staff of Cadeceus. Carried by the Greek god Hermes in mythology, it is said "...wake the sleeping and send the awake to sleep. If applied to the dying, their death was gentle; if applied to the dead, they returned to life". In the hands of Flamel, it can stun an enemy or counteract the effects of a stun-inducing skill upon an ally. As well as that, it can channel the effects of its corresponding god-named element mercury, able to dissolve many metals like silver and gold at will. However, like mercury, this skill is extremely volatile and prone to backfiring violently on Flamel if overused.

ELIXER OF LIFE (Skill): The ultimate alchemical creation- the solution, part of Flamel's legend, that granted he and his wife immortality. He keeps a small flask of the elixer on him at all times, and can be used in a pinch to heal all of Flamel's physical wounds, or that of a singular ally. However, it is not enough to grant an ally immortality, nor is it enough to heal multiple mortal wounds. The substance takes exactly one week, given the right materials, for Flamel to remake and refill his flask with some of the elixer.

He has two Noble Phantasms, one being ‘The Stone of the Philosphers’, and the other being ‘The Book of Abra-Melin the Mage’.

[[LINK TO HIS INTRO CHAPTER IN MY FANSERVANT FIC ALSO THERES A LATER CHAPTER WHERE HE ATTEMPTS TO THROW HANDS W/ PARACELSUS]]

Captain Alfred Bulltop Stormalong (Rider)

Captain Alfred Bulltop Stormalong is, plainly put, pretty much a nautical version of Paul Bunyan. Like Bunyan, he can change his size at will, growing to huge proportions. His giant ship was said to have hinged masts so as not to catch them on the moon, and had a stable of Arabian horses on board for his crew to get from one end of the ship to the other! Stormalong is said to have had a lifelong rivalry with the fabled Kraken- but unfortunately for the legendary sea beast, it got summoned alongside Stormalong and has begrudgingly taken up residence in his hat in a somewhat smaller form.

His main weapon (not drawn) is a ship's anchor he wields like a flail. His pipe is really just for the aesthetic as he can't use it to smoke, but it does blow bubbles! His Noble Phantasm is The Courser and the Kraken (Massive all-enemy damage + stun).

He’s a good boy who loves boats, the water, and clam chowder.

Edgar Allan Poe (Foreigner)

The alcoholic author himself, Edgar Allan Poe is a Foreigner-class servant, being linked with the King in Yellow- Hastur the Unspeakable.

Sometimes you can find him locked in a tiny pitch-black closet with Dantes and Sherlock, all three of them puffing away in utter silence on their tobacco. Hastur most often takes the form of a multi-eyed raven chillin’ on his shoulder, and is capable of speech- if prodded, he will shit-talk the patrons of Poe’s fellow foreigners. He really doesn’t like Cthulhu and Yog, even if Poe has psuedo-adopted Abby, WHOOPS. Hastur, to his credit, is the least malevolent Elder God/patron in Chaldea- though if he is seen chatting with Moriarty by any servants or staff, Master must be alerted immediately.

True to form, he’s very macabre, with a unique dramatic way of speaking much like his writings. He’s unsettling and creepy, but has impeccable manners and likes to chat (he’s very lonely-). He enjoys a good mystery, and is prepared to find Arthur Conan Doyle if he be a heroic spirit and beating the snot out of him for treating Holmes so poorly- Poe was the inventor of the detective fiction genre, after all. Most of skills manifest visually as references to his most famous works. His NP is ‘ A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM : THE CRY OF THE YELLOW RAVEN, NEVERMORE ‘

He doesn’t know what a ‘Hot Topic’ is, but it sounds intriguing!

And no, he doesn’t know what the hell was up with his death either. Weird shit happens in Boston.

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consultingsister-aa · 3 years

Note

❛ i never stopped loving you. ❜ / bash

this meme for: @theasteriae verse: alt main

Someone, probably Mary, wrapped a blanket around her before she was allowed to go out and meet him. They’ve all been treating her like a patient for months, even before they knew about the baby. She’s so fucking delicate. No one says it, everyone is thinking it.

Admittedly, she does look sick. She’s exiled herself from London, instead choosing to stay in Surrey. Sherlock, Mary and John all take turns staying with her. Again, no one says it, but they seem to not trust her on her own. She feels like a shamed woman; the man she loved got her pregnant and then fucked up so they’ve sent her out to the country to have her baby in privacy. Hell, maybe they will take it away from her afterwards.

She’s thinner, paler, the tan she earned in Italy is long gone. Her high cheekbones and narrow face make her look almost ghostly. It’s the light too, she’d like him to know. Doctor John has been keeping her on a strict diet to help her build up energy. Every day she’s made to get up, stretch, walk around the house, shower. She does through the routine without complaint.

The call from Morland, which she did not answer was a relief from the repetitive days.

Sherlock answered and seemed unsure of how to deal with the information. On one hand, he was sort of hoping Sebastian Moran would die in Sherrinford. On the other, it caused him pain to see his sister so lost in her own mind and he understood, however hard it was for him to accept, that there might only be one person with the ability to fish her out. The helicopter touched down at the very end of the garden and Cee, with her blanket and her bump stood waiting for it. Mary, Sherlock and John were somewhere back in the house, not allowed to walk her down.

He looks as bad as she does. Good. She couldn’t care less if it’s spiteful.

Before he can get a word in, she slaps him. It’s not a sudden reaction thing, she has been planning that from the second Mycroft, against his will, told her what Bash had done. He did it for you. She was pretty sure Bash hadn’t curled up next to Jim in bed for her.

"I never stopped loving you.”

For months, Cee had been numb. Numb to the betrayal, to the baby, even to the news that Morland had got Bash out. But when he talks, his voice, the look on his face, it all begins to wash over her like a wave. And maybe it’s not just him, maybe it’s everything. It feels like everything. It feels like a lifetime of shit and terror and nothing ever going her way, all to arrive at this moment. This win. She’s an idiot for believing him, over and over but she doesn’t care.

Celia begins to sob, one hand reaching to hold the back of his neck, the other pulling his hand down to her stomach. Her kiss is wet with tears and she needs to pull back to breath through the sobs. “I hate you,” she manages, “oh my god, I hate you so-- fucking--” more sobbing and more kisses. “Never leave me again. Never leave us again. Fucking-- arsehole--”

#theasteriae #( i. message )

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vulpesmellifera · 5 years

Text

Fics I Read & Loved: May 2019

The April list is here.

I love coming up with these lists, but June and July were filled with lots of my own writing! So this one is very late, lol. Working on June’s list now.

You get the 2019 list (Johnlock and Mystrade), and the 2018 list (so much Johnlock), plus a few Hannigram fics at the end. Don’t be surprised if you see a few Good Omens fics in next month’s list!

Sherlock Fic Recs for May 2019

Just a Cuppa by green_violin_bow. Mystrade. Explicit. 3,880 words. Exhausted after a case that required participation from both of them, Greg and Mycroft end up sharing a bed...I mean, seriously, what could happen?

The Old Familiar Sting by songlin. Johnlock. Teen. 2,961 words. Sherlock doesn’t want John to realize he’s autistic.

That Teenage Feeling by akitsuko. Johnlock. Explicit. 12,397 words. John decides to try and set Sherlock up with a date. But when he sees a man flirt with Sherlock, he’s seized with jealousy. The jealousy is delicious.

In For a Pint by MissMilquetoast. Johnlock. Teen. 9,840 words. Sherlock, Greg, and Molly try to get John out in the dating game after Mary’s death. John doesn’t exactly appreciate it, and surprises them all.

Star Child by bookjunkiecat. Mystrade. Teen. 1,261 words. Mycroft is an unlikely candidate for a tattoo. But it means a lot to him. Turns out someone else he knows can appreciate it, too.

Winter in London by Waid. Johnlock. Not Rated. 45,112 words. Victorian AU and rape recovery fic. Holmes is knocked out and Watson deals with the last stages of a case. He tries to hide what happened from his friend.

Welcome Home, John by slashscribe. Johnlock. Gen. 5,504 words. John returns to 221B a broken man. Sherlock is very considerate - a little too considerate. John begins thinking he might not be the only broken man.

Hurts and Comforts by Lavender_and_Vanilla. Mystrade. Not Rated. 2,112 words. Adorable ficlets - five in all! The last chapter is distinctly a sickfic, the others are all hurt/comfort, just a little something to touch your heart and make you smile.

Recovery by Tammany. Mystrade. Gen. 3,350 words. Mycroft suffers an assassination attempt that leaves him unsteady and in pain. Lestrade is a natural caretaker. Lovely short story.

Coffee, Lies, and Cheesecake by siriusblue. Mystrade. Teen. 1,516 words. Adorable coffee shop AU wherein Mycroft finds a nice, quiet coffee shop with a handsome barista. But the silver haired barista is not all he seems!

Barter System by brbsoulnomming. Johnlock. Explicit. 6,982 words. This one is sooo sweet. A touch of angst, too, but it’s perfect. Sherlock and John start a bartering system with their clothes.

A Bit of Indulgence by beltainefaerie. Johnlock. Not Rated. 3,364 words. One of my favorite tropes! John and Sherlock run into an old army buddy of John’s while on a case at Pride.

Tempting by bookjunkiecat. Mystrade. Mature. 1,602 words. Smut and doughnuts, this is good!

Seize the Day by siriusblue. Mystrade. 1,664 words. Mycroft is a human rights lawyer having a bad day at work. Greg is a cute barista.

A Model Patient by EventHorizon. Mystrade. Teen. 1,800 words. A most humorous story of a government official’s illness and his model patient behavior.

The Golden Egg by bookjunkiecat. Johnlock. Mature. 4,259 words. Having John and Watson is all he could ever ask for. Things come to a head after an Easter egg hunt at Aunt Harry’s.

Shining Tigers by Tammany. Mystrade. Explicit. 2,428 words. Mycroft and Greg are mature men who get on with each other. It seems only natural for a comfortable courtship to unfold.

I Do by bookjunkiecat. Mystrade. Teen. 1,102 words. Greg starts having doubts the night before the wedding. Mycroft learns why.

A Little Bit of Irritation by thecount. Mystrade. Not Rated. 11,789 words. Sherlock dives off of a building. Greg is in trouble with the Met. Mycroft sets it right, and then, they find themselves getting closer, though it’s not easy.

Taking Care by Mice. Mystrade. Gen. 1,497 words. Greg comforts Mycroft directly after he events at Sherrinford.

The Hand of Friendship by Topicabo. Mystrade. Teen. 3,925 words. Sweet, sweet story (with just a teensy bit of angst) of a close friendship that tips into something more.

Mystrade Goes Grocery Shopping by Lavender_and_Vanilla. Mystrade. Gen. 1,659 words. Hahaha, Greg makes Mycroft go shopping. Cute little fic wherein Mycroft realizes there might be something to this suggestion.

Pebble by bookjunkiecat. Johnlock. Gen. 1,088 words. Holy fucking Christ, if this isn’t the cutest thing I’ve read recently.

What’s Warranted? by Lavender_and_Vanilla. Mystrade. Explicit. 1,285 words. Soft and sweet. Greg can’t find his warrant card, and he knows Mycroft must have stolen it in a bid for morning sex.

The Comfort of Touch by sanguisuga. Mystrade. Teen. 2,132 words. Greg comforts a touch-starved Mycroft after a grievous loss. Sweet and soft.

Can You See Me? by stripyjumpers. Johnlock. Teen. 10,139 words, John is going blind, and has no idea what to tell his flat mate. Beautiful little story.

Sherlock fics I loved in May 2018 are under the cut. So are the Hannigrams.

Sherlock Fic Recs from May 2018

Nature and Nurture by earlgreytea68. Johnlock. Mature. 203,273 words. I reread this recently, and it’s so fucking amusing. Mycroft leaves John and Sherlock with a clone baby. The new dynamic at 221B leads John to reconsidering where he stands with Sherlock. Post-Reichenbach.

Full Disclosure by Itsallfine. Johnlock. Explicit. 7,032 words. John gets invited to a night out with army buddies and brings Sherlock along to try and deflect ridicule for showing up alone. Some things get said.

Bridging the Ravine by SilentAuror. Johnlock. Explicit. 58,887 words. I think the Fake Relationship trope is my fave. John and Sherlock have to investigate a therapy centre for same-sex couples. Post-season four, so you know there’s a lot of drama!

Nothing to Make a Song About by emmagrant01. Johnlock. Explicit. 36,833 words. Sherlock lives a life without John for ten years after John breaks off their friendship when Sherlock returns. John gets divorced from Mary and returns to London. This is worth every reread.

Dawn Before the Rest of the World series by PoppyAlexander. Johnlock. Explicit. 65,164 words. This is sweet and John Watson is stupidly romantic while Sherlock is ridiculously buttoned up. Downton Abbey-esque.

Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour by what_alchemy. Johnlock. Explicit. 30,568 words. Hello Fake Relationship Trope, I love you. John, Sherlock, and Mycroft go gallivanting in Scotland for Mummy’s birthday. Sherlock told Mummy that he and John are engaged to get Mummy off his back about love and relationships. John goes along with it.

The Handler by saturn_in_retrograde. Johnlock. Explicit. 11,300 words. This one is hot. Alternate meeting - Sherlock is convalescing in the family home. John Watson shows up to apply for a job training dogs.

Ghosting by johnwatso. Johnlock. Explicit. 22,590 words. John Watson has a tattoo that Sherlock knows he didn’t see before Reichenbach. He can’t help but obsess over it, forcing John’s hand and his own in exploring the nature of their relationship.

The Way to a Man’s Heart by SwissMiss. Johnlock. Teen. 21,273 words. John is living at Baker St after the death of Mary and the baby. Greg asks Sherlock to be his best man, which leads to tension between Sherlock and John. Then a connection to an old flame.

The Strait of Juan de Fuca by mightypog. Johnlock. Teen. 6,400 words. A gorgeous post-Reichenbach piece, where Sherlock takes John to Canada, and in the wilderness there, hopes to reconnect with his old friend and blogger.

Right Hand Man by SilentAuror. Johnlock. Johnlock. Explicit. 42,031 words. Mary and John get into a car accident that paralyzes John’s lower arm and hand. The baby is incoming, so Mary asks Sherlock to take care of John while she prepares for birth.

A Very Sherlock Musical by flawedamythyst. Johnlock. Teen. 11,980 words. This one had me laughing. Sherlock won’t sing with anyone, and John is upset that Sherlock won’t sing their duet.

If Equal Affection Cannot Be by blueink3. Johnlock. Explicit. 31,156 words. This is a beautiful story of estrangement and reunion, where Rosie is a pivotal character and Sherlock and John have many old feelings to deal with.

To Keep Quiet by Salambo06. Johnlock. Explicit. 11,091 words. The boys have been through a lot. Rosie and John come to stay temporarily at 221B Baker St. Beautifully told short story outlining their trials and tribulations after Mary and Culverton Smith.

What You’re Missing by kedgeree. Johnlock. Mature. 16,339 words. Sherlock is disdainful toward love, and John decides he needs to show him what he’s missing, and why that’s important.

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221B. Johnlock. Explicit. 20,004 words. Sherlock surprises John with an early retirement, but he convinces John to join him in Sussex. What follows is a lovely story of two men getting together.

A Diseased Fancy by J_Baillier. Johnlock. Mature. 85,088 words. Spooky, creepy, and awesome. Sherlock and John get complicated, and then Victor Trevor shows up. Shit gets weird. An awesome story. Did I say awesome already?

A Case for Domestic Propinquity by SilentAuror. Johnlock. Explicit. 32,308 words. Renovations are underway at Baker Street, and Sherlock is wondering how he can convince John to stay with Rosie. But there are a lot of truths to uncover.

Never (Turn Your Back to the Sea) by DiscordantWords. Johnlock. Explicit. 39,968 words. This is a fantastic story. Sherlock wants John to stay but John just visits with Rosie. Eurus is kind of a bitch, but she eventually gives Sherlock the key.

A Wizarding Barista’s Field Guide to Seducing a Muggle by paradigmfinch. Johnlock. Teen. 29,344 words. I mean, this is just one of the cutest things I’ve ever read.

On the Losing Side by missselene. Johnlock. Explicit. 8,210 words. Sherlock and John stumble into a physical relationship, and they don’t talk about it.

Time on my hands by mildredandbobbin. Johnlock. Mature. 7,179 words. I love this one. Sherlock decides to go cottaging. John eventually finds out.

State of Flux by Atiki. Johnlock. Explicit. 24,655 words. Sherlock and John slide into a relationship without Sherlock really realizing. The couch scene is one of my favorite things in this.

Sussex by SilentAuror. Johnlock. Explicit. 26,640 words. Casefic and bed-sharing and post-Reichenbach, oh my!

The Moonlight and the Frost by CaitlinFairchild. Johnlock. Explicit. 77,349 words. Mycroft and Sherlock insist John goes back to Mary for his safety. Eventually, John has had enough of everyone else making decisions for him.

Masters of Ink by IndyBaggins. Johnlock. Explicit. 67,482 words. What a great AU, and what angst! John and Sherlock are tattoo artists competing on a reality show.

Recovery by mainegirlwrites. Johnlock. Mature. 26,935 words. Sherlock is attacked while on a case and is disfigured. John takes care of him.

A Fold in the Universe by darkest_bird. Johnlock. Explicit. 152,875 words. This is an interesting concept and a fun story. Alpha Sherlock and Omega John are in a relationship in one world. Sherlock and John are not. Somehow, John and Omega John swap worlds.

Hannigram

Marriage of Inconvenience by fragile-teacup. Explicit. 3,563 words. Why do I love Hannibal and Will together so much? This short fic is and many other fics like it are part of the reason why. In this one, Hannibal is being deported! Will offers up a solution.

This Dangerous Game by MissDisoriental. Explicit. 270,260 words. This one is a fantastic historical AU set in London at the time of Jack the Ripper. Will is visiting from America and on the case. Hannibal is fascinated by this young, intelligent man.

Kindling by gleamingwholeanddeadly. Explicit. 1,769 words. Hannibal has a clingy patient. Will pretends to be his date at a social event where the patient will attend.

Prey by Miss_Lv. Explicit. 6,959 words. Hannibal meets Will in the woods. He comes to discover more about himself after violent and sexual interactions with the strange hermit.

#monthly fic recs #mystrade #johnlock #hannigram #fanfiction #2019 fic recs #johnlock fic recs #mystrade fic recs

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pennywaltzy · 4 years

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Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures - It all begins with an invitation to Mycroft’s wedding to his PA and seven days at a resort in Jamaica, with the assumption that Molly pretends to be his girlfriend that his mother might be under the impression that he’s going to propose to sooner rather than later. It ends up being so much more than that…

READ CHAPTER 1 | READ CHAPTER 8 | BUY ME A COFFEE?

Sherlock and Robert walked around the resort, looking at the various places where people could be sociable, talking as they moved, and eventually found the now infamous, at least to Sherlock, Aunt Mildred at a table with his Uncle Harrington and Molly. He could already hear the spirited discussion of what constituted a lesser work by Dickens from twenty feet away, and he swore he had never seen a gleam so bright in his uncle’s eye before.

Molly spotted them first. “Sherlock!” she said, a wide smile on her face. “Please come stop them from taking this argument to others who don’t share their love of literature.”

“Sorry, I nodded off during Dickens,” he said, leaning over and pressing a kiss into Molly’s hair, just because he could. “Ask me my opinions on the stories of Doyle and I may be worth having enter the fray.”

“Oh, he did write good science fiction,” Harrington said.

“Yes, but H.G. Wells was better,” Mildred said.

Harrington looked for a moment like he was going to disagree, but then stopped and nodded. “I suppose you have a point there. The Time Machine was a stellar work. Not fond of the Guy Pearce adaptation, but I wore through many VHS copies of the original production.”

“And just why don’t you like the Guy Pearce version?” Mildred asked, with a mildly pointed tone and a smile on her face.

“Aunt Mildred, we have a Problem,” Robert said, sitting next to his aunt. “With a capital P and the initials SH.”

“What has he done now?” she asked, nodding towards Sherlock.

“She knows you?”Molly murmured as Sherlock sat next to her.

“I’ll explain later,” Sherlock said back. Then he turned to Mildred. “Not me. At least, not this time. The other problematic Holmes child with those initials.”

The amusement dropped off Mildred’s face. “Shit,” she said.

“You’re acquainted with my eldest nephew?” Harrington asked.

“Unfortunately,” Mildred said. She looked at Sherlock, narrowing her gaze. “Robert filled you in, I take it?”

Sherlock nodded. “Yes.”

“And your pretend girlfriend’s clearance level is high enough to know the truth, I suppose?”

Sherlock started to reply but Molly shook her head. “Not so pretend,” she interjected. “At least, not anymore, I suppose.”

Mildred nodded slowly, giving them an approving look. “Good. One less secret for the bastard to ferret out.”

“I’m missing quite a bit here, aren’t I?” Harrington asked with a frown on his face.

“You have the highest clearance of the Holmes family,” Mildred said, turning to him. “Aside from my soon to be in-law and Sherlock, of course. Robert and I work as Her Majesty’s top line of defense when it comes to national security, and your eldest nephew is a threat to Queen and country.”

Realization dawned on Harrington and he nodded slowly. “Ah. That makes sense.”

“What does?” Robert asked.

“Why half the guests I’ve run into so far from Andrea’s side of the family seem so closed off,” Harrington said. “It fits with the nature of what I’m assuming is your family business.”

Mildred shook her head. “For the lot of us, we seem to be very bad at relaxing.”

“You were doing just fine, dear,” Harrington said. “I never would have guessed.”

Mildred gave him a warm smile. “I like you, Harrington. I think I’m going to have you stay nice and close this week.”

“There are worse places to be,” he replied with a grin of his own. “But I imagine we’ll all be keeping an eye on Sherrinford?”

“Wouldn’t hurt,” Sherlock said. “I know less about him than almost everyone else, it seems. But I’m willing to go to great lengths for this week not to be ruined.”

“Well, start discretely spreading the word amongst our family he’s here,” Mildred said to Robert. “I’ll send the ones who we can’t afford to have the bastard see off to a lovely vacation on some other Caribbean isle, and we can dip into funds to make sure the wedding gifts are up to scratch for their unfortunate disappearances from the event.”

“Does that include cousin Sharon?” Robert asked. “She’s a bridesmaid.”

“Damn,” Mildred said. “It does.” She thought for a moment. “Your sister is fond of Dr. Hooper. Suggest she take Sharon’s place.”

“What?” Molly asked, her eyes widening.

“You’re the only one in Sherlock’s small group with any real sense, we all know it,” Mildred said. “That’s why we like you. You rein in this walking hurricane next to you.”

“I’ve never been called a walking hurricane before,” Sherlock said in an approving tone of voice.

“It isn’t a compliment,” Mildred said.

“At least it’s not The Ice Man,” Sherlock retorted.

“Oh, we all knew that was a crock of bull the minute Andrea said she had her sights set on your brother,” Mildred said. “But back to the situation at hand. Make the suggestion, get those people out of here we need to get out as quickly as possible, and tell Mycroft and Andrea to extend more invitations at the last minute to some low-level government officials that they need to curry favour with. You know, the ones most aggravated by this one’s stunt.”

Robert nodded. “I’ll get right on it,” he said. “Might need to steal your companions, as they’re the only parts of the wedding party with high enough security clearance.”

“Do what needs to be done,” Mildred said. Robert stood up, as did Sherlock and Molly, before she turned to face Sherlock. “I do actually find you interesting, you know.”

“I’m glad, as we’ll be family by the end of the week,” Sherlock said.

“There are worse families for my niece to marry into,” Mildred said. “At least you and Mycroft turned out well enough.” She then waved her hand at the three of them and turned back to Harrington.

“That’s our official dismissal,” Robert said. The three of them moved away from the table and Sherlock and Molly turned to Robert. “I suppose we start rounding up people and sending them off.”

Sherlock nodded and Robert began walking ahead of him and Molly. Molly looked up at Sherlock, her eyes slightly wide. “Spies, Sherlock?”

“Family business, apparently,” he said.

“Why is nothing normal in your life?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” he replied. “Do you want to stay a part of it?”

“Of course,” she said, reaching for his hand. He felt his heart lighten at that and then they went to go catch up with Robert. That was one small consolation, at least.

#sherlock #sherlolly #mythea #fanfic #fanfiction #omc x ofc #sherlock holmes #molly hooper #ocs #multipart: desperate times call for desperate measures

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