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kitturah · 3 years

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Holmes killing Holmes

Actually, he thought he was going to dieafter Sherlock. His little brother is the one with the dangerous life. He on the contrary tends to stay safe. He has always seen himself aged in an armchair, grey and bent over in front of a fireplace, with his hand on a stick, leaning back and with a smile on his lips. That was how he wanted to die. Not this way, not here. This place is the complete opposite. And it is too soon.

But he will die here, today. Before Sherlock. By Sherlock.

And because of his own stupidity.

Stupidity.

Stupidity has always been something that belonged to others. Now it is his. For the first, and last time. Stupidity is taking him to the grave. He almost laughs at it.

Instead, he talks. Talks to Sherlock, wants him at least not to feel stupid and manipulated. Talks to ease his brother into what he has to do, what Eurus is making him do.

„… You’ve always been the slow one, the idiot,“ he says. Forgive me, Sherlock, he does not say. „That’s why I’ve always despised you“, he says. You could never help it, he doesn’t say. „You shame us all,“ he says. I’m so proud of you. „You shame the family name,“ he says. You’re the big Holmes of the family. „Now, for once in your life, do the right thing. …“ He keeps talking, but he doesn’t listen to himself. He just looks at Sherlock, his little brother, who has long since seen through him.

I’m sorry, he doesn’t say.

„Ignore everything he just said,“ Sherlock says instead to John, who listens with a stoic expression, having accepted something he doesn’t have to. He is a good man. The best of the three of them. And the perfect companion for Sherlock. „He was being kind. He’s trying to make it easy for me to kill him. Which is why it is going to be so much harder.“ He takes a swing and aims. A lump of cold hits Mycroft’s chest, making him stagger briefly.

„Not in the face, though, please,“ he says, as if that matters. He holds on to it. And, „I promised my brain to the Royal Society,“ he adds, as if that matters. But meaning has lost all ist sense, now, on the threshold of death. His death. A surreal notion. He has made up his mind. But he cannot believe it: that he is about to die.

He looks at Sherlock. The last face he will ever see. And he wonders if his brother will regret it. If he will grieve. If it will hurt him. But he doesn’t ask. He talks and talks. And Sherlock talks too. One last distraction. A postponement of the inevitable. They both don’t want it to happen.

„I won’t allow this.“ John pushes himself into the line of fire. Looks at Mycroft. And pulls the brothers out of their ridiculous spiral of distracting ramblings.

Mycroft’s gaze settles on John. He is suddenly immensely grateful to him. For being here. For rescueing Sherlock.

Still his brother aims at him, but he drops his arm as Mycroft begins to explain, to dissuade John from his ridiculous intervention. He explains, explains himself, explains the situation. And suddenly Sherlock recognises, recognises John. And steps back again. Sherlock’s gaze meets Mycroft’s.

„How could you be so stupid.“

I know, Sherlock. I know.

His brother raises his arm again, the muzzle staring coldly and darkly at Mycroft. Stupidity. His own stupidity screams at him, mute and black. He swallows.

One last deep breath. His insides tremble. „Goodbye, brother mine“, he says. Do not forget me, he does not say.

Yet it is important to him not to be forgotten. Not by him.

Sherlock will remember this, what he has done. He will have nightmares and it will haunt him. Mycroft doesn’t want his little brother to go through that. But he can’t change it. He can only hope that John will be there, that he will be able to handle Sherlock’s nightmares. He suddenly wishes he could be there with him himself. Sherlock is not used to being emotional. It will disturb him.

Sherlock tilts his head, his index finger resting immovably next to the trigger on the gun. He doesn’t realise it has to be now. He doesn’t want to realise it.

I know. But you have to.

„No flowers,“ he says aloud, „my request.“

And then the tension dissipates. The light turns red. Eurus speaks. Moriarty speaks. „And here we are. End of the line. Holmes killing Holmes.“ Even from death, he still makes fun of them all.

Mycroft feels small. Small and stupid. He is small and stupid. And he is to blame. For all of this. For Sherlock’s coming misery. For his own death.

Sherlock’s eyes narrow. „Five minutes…!“ he hisses. „It took her just five minutes to do all of this to us.“

Yes, now you understand. Now you understand how good she is.

Helplessly, Mycroft looks at him.

We didn’t stand a chance. I didn’t stand a chance.

Mycroft doesn’t know what to say. He has been so terribly stupid. So arrogant. So infinitely stupid. He lowers his eyes.

He does not know what will happen after his death. But he can assume that his sister will not harm Sherlock after she gets what she wants. He can rest easy.

He looks up again and finds Sherlock still pointing the gun at him. He looks at him. For a moment they seem to understand each other like brothers. Sherlock nods. Something in Mycroft suddenly softens. And he fears he will not be able to endure the situation to the very end. He forces a smile. His body tension slackens. Sherlock’s expression loosens a little. He is reassured. It was worth it.

Brother mine.

John steps up to Sherlock, wraps his fingers around his friend’s gun hand. He focuses fully on Sherlock and on the task they have to do. Always the soldier. He mutters something and they both take a few steps towards Mycroft. He swallows. He struggles not to evade backwards. His heart beats fast and hard in his chest, as if protesting against what is coming, as if wanting to quickly do all the work it will never get to do. His fingers on his jacket lapels tremble slightly.

It will be over in a moment.

John adjusts Sherlock’s arm down a tiny bit. Then his gaze passes their hands. „I’m sorry it had to come to this,“ he says to Mycroft, and he closes his eyes for a moment.

„I know. Thank you, John,“ the elder Holmes says, looking at the pair before him, losing himself for a moment in the soldier’s steady gaze, actually finding his crutch in it. „I trust you.“ He says it knowing it will be quick. Because John is there. Take care of Sherlock, he doesn’t say, but he nods at John. He knows.

And then he sees John’s index finger press down on Sherlock’s, and all he hears then is the bang – and a swoosh that fills his head. Impact energy races through his chest, ripping a hole bigger than the one it caused. Ruptured eyes stare at him. They no longer have a hold. Everything inside him turns red.

The pain is worse than he expected and it takes away his breath. A tinge of panic screeches through his head. He struggles for oxygen. It was supposed to be quick! Everything inside him turns white and tastes of pain, goes numb. It turns cold. The shock.

„You’re dying from this.“

Or from blood loss.

„The bullet went straight through your heart. It’s no longer working.“

What do I do now?

„Suffer the shock, of course. That takes away the pain.“

I’m scared.

„Trust me, the shock makes it easier.“

I don’t stand a chance, do I?

„You will achieve your goal.“

The goal was to die now.

„Then do it.“

All right.

„Do it.“

Sherlock?

„Yes?“

I did it for you.

And then he’s gone.

__________________

This OS was inspired by the genius little scene The Dreams He Doesn‘t Have by @discordantwords

This is Mycroft's POV of the same scene written from Sherlock's POV in Holmes killed Holmes

Find it also on Ao3.

#bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #mycroft fanfic #sherlock and mycroft #angst fanfic #angsty #eurus holmes #john being a good friend #short fic #brotherly bonding #brotherly moments #mycroft holmes #sherlock holmes

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anntoldst0ries · 3 years

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Diagnosis

I just want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart to all of you who read my previous fic and left such kind comments. You can’t imagine how much I appreciate this!

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Vicky Valentine)

Word Count: 2,911

Summary: Dr Ramsey attempts to diagnose the most difficult case in his career...his own.

Warnings: None! A lot of introspection again and hints of angst :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ethan Ramsey considered himself a brave man.

He always had the courage to say whatever he wanted to say or what had to be said - be that a terminal diagnosis, savaging someone’s speech at a medical conference (only if the speaker was talking nonsense, that is), scolding an intern - you name it.

With years of experience under his belt, Dr Ramsey excelled at the “art” of saying the most horrible, unpleasant and inconvenient things. It was a process he took to pieces and mastered every tiniest part.

He knew exactly what they were whispering behind his back in the hospital corridors. Dr Ramsey is a bully. A ruthless cynic. No one survived more than 3 minutes of his tirades without bursting into tears. Or, as some of the interns so lovingly put it, he was “the only survivor of a heart transplant”. The last remark had been conveyed to him by Baz, who found it hilarious…and so did Naveen. It took one deadly look to silence Baz forever, however Naveen used every occasion to remind his protégé of hospital’s favourite joke:

‘How’s your heart, Ethan?’

‘Good, why are you as—‘ Ethan didn’t have a chance to finish answering the question, interrupted by Dr Banerji who was in convulsions.

‘God, Naveen, for such a bright mind and one of the best doctors in the world, I still find it hard to believe that you have a sense of humour of a 5 year old’

‘There is nothing wrong with some joy, Ethan. You should try it sometimes, it may do you good.’

Similar conversations took place on a regular basis, but they always ended with Ethan rolling his eyes and Naveen sighing. Younger doctor would never, ever tell his mentor off, he respected him too much. So Ethan let Dr Banerji have some fun at his expense from time to time.

But, truth be told, he kept his emotions at a leash and he was good at it, because there wasn’t a thing in Ethan’s life that he wasn’t good at. Regardless of what it was - saving people’s lives or emotional self-deprivation.

That’s why reminiscing past 2 years was so hard for accomplished diagnostician. He couldn’t help but think that he’s lived more during this time than he’s lived during his whole life. His existence wasn’t a boring one, he loved his job and the cases that the team had to crack were mostly complex and thus exciting. There was also a sense of fulfilment and servitude to a greater cause.

As a kid, Ethan wanted to be a detective. It all started with Alan buying his son one of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s books. There was no hidden intention in this choice - Alan simply ran out of book ideas, Ethan was literally gobbling up the books at his disposal and was thirsty for more. Therefore, Mr Ramsey picked picked one of the thickest positions available in the book shop, with hopes it will keep Ethan occupied for at least a couple of weeks. Oh, how wrong he was - 5 days later his son was already begging for more.

Sherlock Holmes and Hercules Poirot quickly took the top spot on the list of Ethan’s childhood heroes. He was obsessed with their investigative methods, their sharp minds that captured even the tiniest of details and how missing those nuances would make solving a mystery a lot harder, if not impossible.

That’s why he became obsessed with details. He analysed, compared, observed and noted down everything around him with deliberation. After a while, Ethan realised that these skills come handy in various areas of life. He could read people and to a degree foresee what their next move was going to be. If he wanted to, he could probably try and influence their decisions too. If it wasn’t for Alan’s upbringing, this particular skill might have taken his life onto a dark track, but fortunately he utilised it for greater good.

Having this sort of insight made him very self-conscious and he never turned away from reliving his own decisions and behaviours, which helped him become a better doctor, every single day. But he never wallowed in the mud of emotions, instead always operating on facts.

But for the past couple of months, this process became a pure torture.

You know what they say, the devil is in the detail. And the devil it was indeed.

The devil that would be the death of Ethan was 5’4, had raven hair, plumped lips, mesmerising eyes and a captivating laugh.

Suddenly, he heard the devil’s voice in his head.

‘Are you pinching the bridge of your nose right now?’

He was.

‘God dammit!’ - shouted Ethan, so loud that he startled poor Jenner, who resigned from occupying the sofa and ran straight to his bed. Even the retriever, in his doggy wisdom, knew that when his master was upset, it was best to stay out of his sight and wait for the storm to pass.

Whenever Dr Ramsey had a serious dilemma, he would subtly join his thumb and index finger to pinch the gentle skin between eyes. She knew of this somewhat subconscious habit and teased him about it countless times.

With most people, the whole observing and reading process was a one-sided game. For majority of mortals, Ethan was a closed book and they had no idea how to open, let alone read it. But not Rookie. She saw right through him. Ethan considered himself a riveting mystery thriller before, if we’re talking comparisons, but right now he was probably a cheap Harlequin. How did he sink so low in practically no time?

The answer came before he was even able to finish the question.

He was hopelessly, utterly and irreversibly in love with Dr Vicky Valentine.

“Victoria….” he whispered. He knew her full name, he’s read her bloody application and her employee file many, many times. More than he’d ever care to admit. Neither him nor anyone else addressed her by her full name. She always introduced herself as Vicky and even mentioned to him, June & Baz one time that she considered herself too young to be a bearer of such gracious name. But when the name fell out of his lips, it made perfect sense. Victoria. Victory. After a long, tough and heartbreaking battle, she’s won all of him. And man, wasn’t she fighting fiercely.

She was so much like him, and yet so different. Patients loved her, and for a good reason - not only was she amazing at her job, but also so genuinely caring about every patient she met. Somehow, she was able to see past people weary of their conditions, instead she always noticed the human beings with their unique stories. Thanks to her, patients never felt like sickness became their identity, but merely a stage in their life that shall soon pass.

Hospital staff adored her as well, she had time and a huge smile for everyone; her bright aura lit up every room she walked into and was a pleasure to be around.

Those who knew Ethan a bit better or worked with him were aware of the insanely high standards he was holding himself to. And it would have been fine if they only applied to him, but he held everyone else to the same standard too. It was his buffer. Most gave up without even trying, it was humanly impossible to live up to such expectations. And that was the goal. Dr Ramsey wanted no distractions and if anyone wanted so much as approach him, they had a giant wall to jump over first.

But the young intern wasn’t bothered in the slightest. Dozens of people before her stood in front of the wall and tried to figure out how to get in. And she… she just found a tiny gap and squeezed right through. Before Ethan realised what’s going on, it was already too late. And she wasn’t even fully aware of what she’s done.

Like air, she’s entered his life imperceptibly, filling every space until there was nothing else. She was in every reflection he saw, every smile, every freaking thing a reminder of her, one way or another.

He was completely under her spell, enchanted, drunk in the thought of her.

The most ironic part was that if he went by his unreasonable standards, she’d never stand a chance.

She was messy, she was a klutz, she laughed too loud and rounded her eyes like a child when something seriously excited her.

And yet, something about her made him break all of his rules, lower his guard and re-think everything he’s ever thought he knew and believed in.

Obviously, he wouldn’t be himself if the occupational quirk did not kick in at some point. Whatever the cause, Dr Ramsey had to get to the bottom of it, no matter how many tests did he have to run on his mind and heart. He needed the diagnosis so he could start the treatment. But his sharp diagnostic skills which made him a famous man, suddenly decided to go on unplanned vacation and it looks like they were not coming back anytime soon.

Ambivalence became Ethan’s newest companion. Some days, he thought he was going to blow his brains out, the others he was strangely content and did not want to analyse anything, things were good just as they were.

For the first time in his life, he felt truly lost. He felt like Jon Snow, he knew nothing. It wasn’t a result of one event, rather a chain reaction. Starting with Naveen getting sick, the inability to figure out what was wrong with his mentor made Ethan seriously doubt his capabilities as a doctor. Then, Louise Ramsey made a surprise reappearance after having walked out on him and his dad 25 years earlier. When he was little, his dad use to say that wherever Louise goes, trouble follows and it wasn’t any different this time. She brought company - insecurity, sorrow, resentment - to name just a few. Ethan felt like someone ripped a band aid from his heart and painfully reminded him that all the wounds are still alive and never really healed.

And finally, Edenbrook. The place that others saw as walls, glass, beds, people in white coats, sickness, illness, death. To him, it was much, much more. The hospital had almost a transcendental dimension. It was here that Ethan’s transition had been completed. He shed his old skin and became Dr Ramsey, the person he was always meant to be.

That’s why Edenbrook closing hit him so hard - a part of him was about to die and be buried beneath years of sweat, tears and effort. It was probably the hardest thing to come to terms with in the 37 years that he’s been walking on the surface of the Earth.

And throughout all these events, she was with him.

She never gave up on Naveen and Ethan knew that there was more to it than just saving Edenbrook’s most prominent doctor. He believed, he wanted to believe that she did this for him too.

The memory brought shame that drained off him like unpleasant wave of cold water. Ethan never really forgave himself for just laying in his bed like a drunk bag of potatoes, whilst she was busting her gut to solve the case, even though she had ethics hearing to prepare for. A hearing that could make or break her whole career, before she even had a chance to start.

Dr Ramsey would like to think they were alike. But as a matter of fact, she was a much better person than him.

Then, with his mother in the picture, she never told him what to do. Even though he asked, many times. He hoped someone can actually make the decision for him, because it hurt so much to even think about this, let alone decide what to do next. But she never did. She was just there and by simply being, she empowered him to make his own, informed decision.

She was there, like no one else was in his entire life. Not to take anything from Naveen, who had tremendous effect on Ethan’s life - but this was completely different.

She penetrated his soul.

She made him feel.

Love.

It was the first time he used this word in a long, long time.

And maybe, quite possibly, for the first time in his life he used it with intention.

He thought he felt it once before.

When he was a student at Johns Hopkins, Ethan met Camille. She was a year older than him, with angelic voice and looks, the cascade of blond locks surrounding her gentle facial features like a halo.

What impressed him was that she kept hitting up on him, not the other way round. He’s had his mind set on graduating as a top student in his class and then getting the best residency there was - in Edenbrook hospital in Boston. It was either him or someone else. University romances were of no interest to him, or so he thought. After all, he’s just gone past his teenage years and was relatively new to the world of intimate human desires. As much as he tried to push them away, he had needs and his hormones were still a giant part of his decision-making process, doesn’t matter how hard he tried denying it.

Also, there was something motherly about her and she reminded him of the woman who left him when he was just a boy. It was completely fucked-up, he hated his mother and yet a memory of her and how he’d once do anything for her was tattooed in the insides of his brain.

Ethan and Camille shared a passion for medicine, music and opera. A few times, he was close to bringing her down to Providence, to introduce her to Alan, his father. But there was this weird voice in his head stopping him.

Maybe that’s why he wasn’t overly surprised when one day he walked on Camille. In his bed. Screaming and making other explicit sounds…except, he wasn’t the igniter. It was none other than his best friend at the time, Tobias. Ethan would never forget the jealous glance he shot him with when he first brought Camille to one of the student parties. And then things got worse. Ethan and Tobias always competed and for a long time it was a fuel that kept them both going. But when someone wins, someone has to lose. Neither of them was good at losing or accepting the failure.

Ethan was doing better than his best friend. Not significantly better, the difference between them had usually been slight, but it was there. Tobias couldn’t swallow this. Not only was Ethan doing better than him, he also had one of the most beautiful students at Hopkins by his side. Jealousy started to spread inside him like a wildfire and since his attempts to beat Ethan at school were futile, he decided to make use of his other skills. Tobias was a born flirter and charmer. He often used to say that no woman can resist his spell and that “where there’s a woman - there’s a way.”

Dr Ramsey never told anyone, but having found out that his girlfriend cheated on him with his best friend was sort of relief. Call it sixth sense, an intuition… subconsciously he sort of felt that she wasn’t a girl for him. As for Tobias, he was tired of the fight….of Tobias fighting with him, that is. Ethan wasn’t fighting, he was just a better student and was going to be a better doctor. He was tired of petty competition and how the toxin poisoned their relationship.

So they actually made him a favour and helped him killed 2 birds with 1 stone - he was saved from having an awkward break-up conversation that he’s never went through before and he now had every right to hate Tobias. He didn’t really, as such feelings were a waste of energy, but a week later Tobias moved out of their shared apartment and they never really spoke again.

After Camille, he was only in a brief relationship once. With Harper. He deeply admired and respected her, but when things started getting too serious (from her side), he distanced himself. And so, for a couple of years to follow, they were on the off and on again terms. They went through countless friends with benefits stages, but he genuinely enjoyed her company. They just never wanted the same things, which became more and more evident as she was getting older. And he respected her too much to mess her around.

Ethan’s career was everything to him and he accepted the fact that falling in love and having a family is just not in the cards for him.

Or so he thought.

Dr Valentine entered his life one September morning and hasn’t left ever since. And, hell, hasn’t he tried to erase her. To make her hate him. To draw a line between work and personal life. He could honestly say that he tried everything.

For the love of God, he ran to fucking Amazon! He tried to hide from all things Dr Valentine, like a fool who forgot one of the most basic rules of life: there is no running away from yourself.

Tag list (please let me know if you wish to be removed): @terrm9 @openheart12 @openheartthot @rookie-ramsey @alwaysmychoices @brooks-eden @drethanramslay @starrystarrytrouble @justanotherrookie @caseyvalentineramsey@incorrectopenheart @heauxplesslydevoted @perriewinklenerdie @mercury84choices @archxxronrookie @renasalek-blog @maurine07 @whippedforethanfreakingramsey @lemonmiddleton @tsrookie @choicesfan10 @dr-colossal-pita @queencarb @gryffindordaughterofathena @qrkowna @aarisa-frost @choicesficwriterscreations

#open heart #dr ethan ramsey #dr ethan jonah ramsey #dr ramsey x mc #ethan ramsey #open heart choices #dr valentine #play choices #open heart fanfiction #open heart fic #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week

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easilydistractedwriter · 7 years

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[The Curious Case of Newt Scamander] Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Prompt: Anon requested: heyy, what about a crossover of sherlock& fbawtft?:) The Reader (who secretly loves sher& is a muggle) hangs out a lot with newt and they're friends. Sherlock is quite jeaous and curios with whom she is hanging out th whole time. He goes after her when she meets with newt and sees them getting into newt's suitcase. He takes it to 221B and wants an Explanation from her who newt is and what their relation is. Newt tries to settle dispute and says accidentally that she love sher and not him. *hug*

Words: 2,584

Warnings: None that I know of. :D

Wooooo I posted! I know there were some requests that were sent before this, but this caught my eye, and this was so much fun to write.

Sherlock Holmes definitely lived up to his reputation.

Or rather the “high-functioning sociopath” part. Anyone who has ever met the detective have most likely been a victim to his famous deductions; incredibly brilliant but also painfully truthful. As for his sociopathic personality, well… To the public eye, the man seems void of any emotions, the only person who he seemed to have any sort of relationship with was John Watson. Of course, there are still many women who swoon over the tall, dark and handsome detective, but the idea of Sherlock Holmes dating anyone was laughable everyone. Perhaps it was just impossible to provoke an emotional reaction from the consulting detective at all. Or so people had thought. ____ You took one last look in the mirror, and smoothed out your dress to make sure that there weren’t any wrinkles. Satisfied with your appearance, you walk into the living room of your shared flat of 221B. You were about to leave when you heard a familiar deep voice. “You’re in a dress.” “Wow! Sherlock Holmes’ best deduction yet! Quick, someone inform the media of this remarkable discovery!” Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Yes well, you weren’t in a dress earlier, were you?” He retorted with just as much sass, “What’s the occasion?” “What? Can’t a girl dress up for herself once in a while?” Sherlock hummed, “We both know that’s not the case.” You rolled your eyes, “I’m having lunch with an old friend of mine, he’s in London for a few days.” “Old friend as in…?” He raised an eyebrow. “A friend that is not currently new.” You put your shoes on and grabbed your purse, “Don’t wait up for me, I left some food in the refrigerator if your hungry, okay love ya!” With that, the door was slammed, leaving Sherlock alone. He sighed. Guess the skull will have to do for now. ____ Newt was meeting you at a quaint little café a few blocks down from your flat on Baker Street. You would’ve suggested to meet at Speedy’s, but the possibility of certain nosey, curly-haired flat mate coming down to spy on and muck up your little reunion was too big of a risk to take. Nothing was going to ruin today for you. You walk in the front door, hearing the little bell ring. You hear Newt call your name and see that he’s already gotten you two a table by window. He stands up and engulfs you in a big hug. “It’s great to see you, (Y/N/N).” “Great to see you too, Salamander.” You grin cheekily, he absolutely loathes that name. He groans, “Seriously? You know I hate that nickname! Do you have to call me that all the time?” “Oh, sorry, does it really bother you?” You tried your best to look genuinely sorry. “Yes!” You’ve been calling him that for as long as you can both remember. “Aww, well,” you pretended to look thoughtful, “Then of course I’m not gonna stop, you should really know me by now Newt!” He rolled his eyes and smiled at you fondly. It was good to have his best friend back. ____ Sherlock was most definitely not having a good day. First Mrs. Hudson threw out his experiments that were left on the kitchen table. Okay, maybe that was an ideal location to put them but still, they were vital to this case! Then, John had to go back to work because they had an “emergency”, this was an emergency! So he was forced to continue the case when John came back. And then (Y/N) had left him for lunch with another person, whom he has never heard of. And she wasn’t even answering his texts. I mean it was him, how could she not be answering him? He kept thinking about your lunch date, in the totally not creepy way. Maybe she got lost on the way there, that would be typical of her. Maybe she’s stuck in traffic. Or maybe she got mugged?! MAYBE MORIARTY KIDNAPPED HER AND IS HOLDING HER AT GUNPOINT RIGHT NOW?! Okay, he’s definitely been hanging around you for too long. He tapped his fingers along the side of his leather couch. God, was this frustrating. He then, somehow came to the conclusion that spamming (Y/N) with texts until she’d answer him would be the best thing to do. ____ So… you were ready to kill Sherlock. With a spoon. And a blender. Half of your conversation with Newt has been lovely, talking about his travels, his new findings about beasts, his upcoming book and whatnot. The other half, has been with nothing but text alerts. “Yeah, I’ve - ding – been doing – ding – fine here in London, the flat – ding – mates I’ve got are – ding – wonderful, even if – ding – Sherlock can be – ding – a real pain in the arse – ding – sometimes.” Newt makes a face, “Are you sure you don’t wanna get that? It seems urgent.” “Mm, it always is with him.” You mumble. 36 missed texts from “Douchebag in a Trenchcoat” What time are you coming back? -SH Have I ever met this “old friend”? -SH I need to conduct an experiment and John left me for work. Of all things. Come home A.S.A.P. -SH This important to the case! People will die, if you don’t. -SH Alright I finished it without you. Since you were so busy with this friend of yours. -SH (Y/N) pay attention to me. -SH I lied, there was any experiment, Mrs. Hudson threw away all my organs… -SH ANSWER ME. -SH I need your help. -SH I ripped pages out of all your books. -SH The flat is on fire and I’m trapped under rubble, SOS.” -SH (Y/N), Moriarty has strapped a bomb on me and if you don’t come to Baker Street he’ll blow everything up. -SH I thought I was supposed to be the arsehole… -SH (Y/N). -SH (Y/N), please. -SH I’m sorry I didn’t mean it. -SH Don’t ignore me! -SH I know you’re doing this on purpose now. - SH I’m extremely bored. -SH I might just get the gun again. -SH Think about poor Mrs. Hudson. -SH You could be having lunch with me instead. I’m probably much cooler than whoever you’re with… -SH Read more… 14 messages “Oh for God’s sake.” Newt could clearly see that you were stressed by whoever this “Sherlock” person was. But it was his duty as your best friend, to cheer you up and have you smiling again. “Why don’t you come down to the case? It’s been a long time, and I’m sure the creatures miss you an awful lot.” He offered shyly. “That, Newtiekiens, would be wonderful.” You smile. ____ Pacing around the flat, Sherlock wondered why you were gone for so long. It’s been hours, where were? Not that he cares what you do, he was just worrying like John would, like a friend would, right? Yes, he was just doing what a good friend would do. Maybe it would be a good idea to go see if she’s alright. Uh, purely because her disappearing would be inconvenient. He quickly went to your room to see if you had left anything to tell him where you had gone. Some might say this was an invasion of privacy, but that doesn’t matter. He saw your journal open with a post it note on the page saying where you were meeting a… Newt Scamander? Huh, odd name. He grabbed his coat and made his way to the café. ____ Needless to say, Newt’s suitcase full of magical, wonderful beasts never seizes to amaze. Of course there had been a few changes since the last time you’ve visited. One, unfortunately, being Frank the Thunderbird has now been set free back into the wilds Arizona. You weren’t supposed to have them, but he was your favourite, and while you were glad that he’s back where he belongs, you just wish you could’ve at least said goodbye. Now, Newt had taken in 3 Hippogriffs that had been trafficked, an injured Manticore and a baby Phoenix that was left in the rain. It felt good to be surrounded by magic once again. “I approve of the new additions to the family.” You grin, you felt like Newt and you were raising children. “Oh good, I thought you were going to make me kick them out.” He joked. You punched him lightly on the shoulder, “Shuddup.” You said, hiding a smile. There you were, sitting on a little hill, petting a baby Phoenix, head lying on Newt’s shoulder. It was a sweet scene. “You know, you should him give this to Professor Dumbledore…” you mumble, “Didn’t he say he liked phoenixes?” “Hmm, maybe I will.” He smiled down at you. “So, have you found yourself a boyfriend yet?” You groaned and lied down, “Damn it Newt, it was nice and now you made all… ewww.” You scrunched your face as if you bit a lemon. “So there is someone?” “No! Maybe…? I don’t know, it’s really really complicated.” You covered your face with your hand. “Not sure if I’m following.” You peeked from under your hand, “Not sure if I do, Salamander.” “Do explain.” You whine a bit more, but sat up straight, “Alright, fine! If your so interested in my love life.” “So there’s a guy, he’s kind of a rude, arrogant arse, but once you get to know him he’s really sweet, in his own way. He’s really really damn smart. And he definitely knows it, but probably the smartest man in the world.. He has these beautiful blue eyes, you could just drown in them. And his hair, I swear it’s not natural, it shouldn’t be, must’ve sold his soul or something… actually that would explain a lot…” Newt laughs, “I’m sure he’s not soulless.” “Yeah, no, you’d be fooled. But still, he’s just wonderful, even if he’s a handful most of the time.” You sigh a little.

“Does he have a name?” He inquired.

“Well, most people call him, dickhead, rude, a self-righteous cock, but I think he prefers to call himself Sherlock.”

He laughs again.

“Sounds like you really like this guy.” “Not exactly sure if he like me back. Not sure if he’s capable of liking anyone.” “Cheer up, he’d have to be out of his bloody mind not to like you. If he really is the smartest man in the world, then he has to see how wonderful you are. Trust me.” “You’re my best friend, you're obligated to say that, Newt.” You say while yawning. He puts his arm around you and you snuggle into his shoulder. You were about to drift off into sleep when– “Do hope I’m not interrupting anything.” You're wide awake now. You turn around, and sure enough, Sherlock Holmes was standing behind you. How the hell? What?! “W-what? Sherlock?! How did you find me? How did you find this place?!” You were pretty sure your jaw was on the floor. “Oh please, you left your journal open and Mr. Salamander–“ “Scamander.” “–Scamander, should really hide this… whatever this is, somewhere more sealed off next time..” He sounded… bitter? “So you followed me!” You huffed. He furrowed his eyebrows and stared at you, “Yes, of course I followed you, that much was obvious!” “Unbelievable, Sherlock, unbelievable.” “I was worried! You were gone for hours I didn’t know where you were!” He defended himself. You scoffed, “Wow, that is a really shitty excuse Sherlock.” “Okay, in my defence, as a detective, you following a strange man into a dark alleyway is really shady.” “Well it isn’t any of your damn business.” “(Y/N), maybe cal–“ “Sorry that I was being a good friend for once, okay? Won't be trying that again since you were clearly having a great time here with loverboy.” He spat. “Uh, we aren’t, I’m not–“ “You have no idea how insensitive your being.” “Right, ‘cos that’s Sherlock Holmes. The insensitive, arrogant prick. Hmm?” He rolled his eyes, “What is this anyways? This place is… impossible.”

“I’m a wizard.” He squeaked out, just a smidge intimidated by the man. “A wizard?” He laughed. “Yes, a wizard what were you expecting?” You hissed at him, still pissed at his actions, “Most people don’t know about the wizarding community, muggles are usually ignorant to magic.” “… Muggles?” “They’re non-wizard folk.” Newt explained to him. “Okay…” Sherlock said trying to process this, and he was failing quite wonderfully at it too. How in the world could this possibly be real? It seemed like a dream, too wacky and bizarre to be reality. Perhaps he was dreaming, and this was all just a horrible nightmare he would soon awake from.

“Yes, and you weren’t ever supposed to know. If you hadn’t followed us this wouldn’t be a problem.” He narrowed his eyes, “Sorry for the inconvenience then, Your Majesty.” “Definitely not as much as I am, trust me.” You glared back at him. “So what does your boyfriend do? Is he a magical animal rescuer?” He hadn't meant to come off rude. Or maybe he had, you never really know with Sherlock.

“I am a magizoologist.” This time Newt glared at him.

“And he’s not my boyfriend, so would you stop saying that!” Sherlock was really really starting to get on your nerves. “Oh? Then what is he?” He challenged. “He’s my best friend, okay? I can have those, right? They can be guys can’t they?” “Don’t lie to me, (Y/N).” He said, he look hurt. Beyond hurt. “Why would she lie to you? If weren’t busy being jealous you could see she loves you…” Whether Newt had meant to let that slip or not, it was enough to get both of you to freeze.

Your eyes widened at Newt like, “Dude! Not cool!” “Was… w-was I not supposed to say that?” He looked at you sheepishly. “I’m not being jealous. She can date whoever the hell she wants.” Sherlock said, not very convincingly though. Your face morphs from confused to sly. You finally realize why Sherlock’s been acting weird all day, ohhhh someone is jealous. “Awwww Sherl, you don’t have to be jealous!” You tease. “I am not jealous.” He whines, like a child who wants a toy.

“Good, ‘cos you’re the only guy for me.” You grab him by his shirt and kissed him. At first he didn’t do anything, he remained still, shocked at the gesture. Then he started to melt into the kiss and kissed back with more passion, his hands moved to your waist and pulled you closer to him. You'd forgotten everything else and remained focused on one thing. Each other. It had ended quicker than either of you would’ve like, but since your senses were still on fire you didn't say anything.

“So, uh, you two are good right?” Newt said, as he shifted awkwardly.

You laughed and pulled Newt into a hug.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” You whisper in his ear.

“You better.” He smiled and whispered back.

You looked back Sherlock, “So, uh, are we, um, a thing then? I know you don't really do this sort of stuff...”

“I would like to be, yes.” He beamed.

“Okay then, Mr. Holmes.”You pulled him into another kiss.

“(Y/N), GET OUT! STOP TAINTING MY CHILDREN.”

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