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strangelock221b · 6 years

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Posting this here in case @noregretsnotearsnoanxieties can’t get to AO3.

Behind a cut since it’s long.

Simple Intimacies

Forget lingerie, Sebastian Moran thought as he watched from the doorway. My shirt is the sexiest thing ever. At least, when Molly’s wearing it.

His wife of two years was at the stove with her back to him, frying eggs if the smell was anything to go by. She wore his grey henley, the shirt going to the tops of her thighs, and her white ankle socks. Her legs seemed to go on forever, and he loved that he knew exactly how they felt wrapped around his waist.

“If you’re done ogling,” she said, amused, “you can make the toast.”

Seb smirked. “Who said I’m done?”

She looked over her shoulder to grin at him. “Breakfast first, then we’ll work up an appetite for lunch.”

He gave her a salute, delighted. “Yes, ma’am!”

It happened every time they were in a crowded place – Sebastian would take her hand and wouldn’t let go until they left. It didn’t matter if it was a pub, a shop, or a party at someone’s house – he’d take her hand and just hold it. Her left hand in his right, always – Molly knew it was to keep their dominant hands free.

The first time he’d done it, they were in Harrods close to Christmas and the place was packed to the rafters with last-minute shoppers. It was their first Christmas together and Molly was having a hard time finding just the right present for her boyfriend. Seb was looking at jeans when she decided to check out the blazers. Wading through the sea of people was tough and she had only left his side for five minutes when she felt a hand on her shoulder then he turned her around and kissed her hard.

“What was that about?” she asked after she caught her breath.

“I couldn’t find you,” he said quickly and she swore she saw panic being replaced with relief in his eyes. “One minute, you were beside me, the next minute, you were gone. It took forever for me to find you in this fucking crowd.” He took her hand. “I’m not letting you go again.”

“Seb,” she said gently, “it’s alright. I would’ve looked for you as soon as I was done. I’m not a child, no one’s going to walk out of here with me except you.” She lightly squeezed his hand.

He smiled weakly. “I probably sound like an idiot, but with the life I lead…”

“You sound like someone who cares.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

His cheeks turned slightly pink as he smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Seb groaned softly as he leaned back in the tub, letting the warm water relax him. His broken left arm, wrapped in plastic to keep the cast from getting wet, was resting on the side of the tub. Next time, he thought darkly, Holmes can fight his own fucking battles.

“Feel better?” Molly asked as she knelt by the right side of the tub. Her sleeves were rolled up and Seb wished she’d remove her top entirely.

He grinned at her. “I’d feel even better if you joined me.”

She smirked back. “Tempting, but you’d have a hard time holding me with just one arm.”

“I’m certainly willing to try.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Molly laughed softly. “Save it for after, handsome.” She leaned forward to kiss him softly then she started to wash his hair.

Seb could feel himself melting into the bathwater when he felt Molly massage his scalp. “Oh God, babe, right there…”

“I had a feeling you’d like that,” she murmured, amused. “You’re a house cat wrapped in a tiger’s hide, admit it.”

He chuckled. “I knew there was a reason why you liked me.”

“Love, husband,” she corrected him softly. “Love.”

Molly absently played with Seb’s hair while she read an article in a pathology journal. She was sitting on one end of the sofa in their sitting room, his head in her lap and the rest of him stretched out along the length of the sofa. He was watching news coverage of the election in Russia, occasionally adding commentary.

“Nyet, nyet, nyet,” he muttered. “It doesn’t matter what he promises, re-electing him will only get them more of the same. ‘Course, the election is rigged, so what the people actually say won’t matter.”

“Since when did you become interested in Russian politics?” she asked, not looking up from the journal.

He tilted his head back to look up at her. “I’ve done a few contracts in Russia. Haven’t been back in a while, but if this election turns out like I know it will…” He smiled a bit when she looked at him with her eyebrow raised. “And I’ve already said too much.”

“Can’t Mycroft make use of you closer to home?”

“He’d rather eliminate his domestic enemies at the polls.”

She lightly smacked his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

He smirked. “If you want to tell my boss I need a shorter commute, go right on ahead. I’ll stand by while you get audited.”

Molly rolled her eyes then went back to the journal. Seb turned his head to kiss her knee then went back to the election. After a while, she heard him snoring lightly.

He only does that when he’s truly exhausted, poor baby, she thought sympathetically. She considered waking him up so they could move to the bed but decided they were both comfortable enough where they were. Kissing her fingertips, she lightly brushed them on his lips before going back to her reading.

“We’re doing this why, exactly?” Sebastian asked as he helped his wife make a fort out of couch cushions and blankets.

“Because Rosie loves blanket forts and she’s going to be here any minute.” Molly added one more blanket to the structure. “There. Sturdy and cozy, just right.”

“If you say so.”

She looked at him over the top of the fort. “You never made one of these before?”

“Not that I can remember. My brothers and I were too busy getting each other in trouble to make blanket forts.”

“You must have been a holy terror.” Her smile was fond and he felt a sudden, desperate need to kiss her.

Seb cleared his throat. “Yeah, no surprise there. I can’t tell you how many times I had to sit in the corner. ‘Course, that was just a foreshadowing of how much time I spent in detention.”

Molly was about to respond when her mobile chirped. He knew by the disappointment on her face what happened.

“She’s not coming?”

“No, a client just came in. Mrs. Hudson will watch Rosie, John says he’ll bring her here tomorrow.”

He moved around to her side of the fort, murmuring, “Well, it would be a shame to waste all our efforts.” He held up the blanket “door.” “After you.”

Molly gave him a confused look then shrugged and crawled into the fort. He followed her, rolling his eyes when his long legs stuck out. Giggling, she laid down beside him.

Seb pulled her close, murmuring, “I love you, you know.”

“I know, Seb.”

“And I love your goddaughter.”

“I know that too.” She softly kissed his neck. “Rosie loves her ‘Unca Sebby.’”

He chuckled. “And you?”

Molly grinned. “Oh, I’m completely crazy about you, didn’t you know?”

“Actually, I think I did.”

It was Molly’s second-favorite thing to do in bed – lay in Sebastian’s arms as a storm raged outside. Sometimes, they’d quietly listen to the rain and the wind. Other times, they’d talk about whatever was on their minds. Seb tended to get philosophical during those times, expressing his thoughts on human nature. His opinion of it tended to be pessimistic; Molly hoped to change that one day.

“What was your first impression of me?” she asked softly. It was after midnight and a thunderstorm that had been going on for what seemed like hours was still going strong.

Seb chuckled. “I haven’t told you this already?’

“Not yet,” she said, smiling a bit. They were laying on their sides, holding each other.

He reached up to stroke her hair. “Honestly, my first impression wasn’t all that favorable – I thought you were just a little mouse that Jim was playing with.”

“What changed your mind?”

He grinned. “You dumping him. That’s when I knew you had some fire in you. I wanted to see more of that.”

She grinned back. “And now?”

“Now I know you’re the warmest, brightest fire I’ve ever seen.”

“Aren’t you afraid of getting burned?”

“Never.”

Sebastian tugged at his collar in a vain attempt to loosen it. He hated wearing suits, especially tuxedos. The one he wore to their wedding had been tolerated because it had been important to Molly, but this tux…

“Bored?” she asked as she sat down next to him. She’d brought over a piece of the cake and two forks.

“Uncomfortable,” he muttered.

She smiled sympathetically. “Just think about how much Mycroft and Anthea appreciate your effort.”

Seb rolled his eyes. “They only have eyes for each other. I thought we were besotted when we got married.”

Molly giggled. “Considering they have yet to be caught making out in the ladies room, I say we still have them beat.”

“The reception’s not over yet.” He took one of the forks then tried the cake. “Not bad.”

“Considering they paid five thousand for it, I should hope it’s a lot better than ‘not bad.’” She tried the cake and her face lit up. “Ooo, that’s good!”

Seb smiled a bit as he took another forkful. “Ours was better.”

She smiled at him softly. “Honestly, I was in such a dreamy haze that day, you could’ve put sawdust in front of me and I would’ve eaten it happily.”

“I’ll remember that for our anniversary.” He chuckled when she playfully smacked his arm.

Molly was in the path lab, hunched over a microscope when she heard the door open. “You’re early, Sherlock. I won’t get the test results for another hour.”

“If I see Holmes before then, I’ll let him know,” her husband said as he approached her.

She turned to look at him then winced as her muscles protested. “Ugh…”

“And how many post-mortems did you do today?” Seb asked, moving to stand behind her. He helped her take off her lab coat, which he draped over a nearby stool, then he started to massage her neck and shoulders.

Molly groaned quietly as she relaxed. “Oh God, yes… Um, three.”

He chuckled. “I told you, you need to stretch your muscles between bodies or you end up in knots like this.”

“Mmm… Or I could just have my private masseur take care of me.”

“It’s a good thing my rates are reasonable.”

“Oh? What’s your usual rate?”

“A kiss.” He leaned down as she tilted her head back and kissed her upside-down.

Molly grinned up at him. “Works for me.”

“Wait, I’m not done,” Seb murmured.

They were sitting in bed, his arm around her shoulders, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix in her hands. Between the two of them, Molly was more of a bookworm so he had a hard time keeping up with her speed of reading, but she got him hooked on the series.

She smiled at him fondly. “Which House would you be in?”

“Gryffindor,” he said immediately. “All the courage, not enough brains.”

Molly playfully smacked his leg. “You’re smarter than you let on. What about me?”

“Hufflepuff.” He bent his head to kiss her neck. “Loyal, hardworking, and sweet.”

“Mmm… I’d say those two Houses go well together.”

Seb grinned at her. “Three years and counting.”

“You’re a sniper, you kill people for a living, you currently work for the British Government, and you used to work for the world’s only consulting criminal. How in the bloody hell did you crack several ribs playing football?” Molly glared at her husband as she laid an ice pack on his chest.

Sebastian looked up at her from where he lay on the sofa, his blue eyes plaintive. “Sherlock’s a lot tougher than he looks, believe me, love. Bastard speared me and honestly, a car hitting me would’ve been softer.”

Molly rolled her eyes. “You have fifty pounds on him at least.”

“Doesn’t matter, he’s fucking solid.”

She shook her head in disbelief as she handed him two painkillers and a glass of water. “Well, you’re taking it easy for the next six weeks.”

He groaned quietly. “Mycroft will have a thing or two to say about that.”

“Well, if he does, I’ll have a thing or two to say to him. You’re going to be too busy healing and staving off pneumonia to work.”

“Don’t forget not doing anything fun,” he muttered.

“Ah,” she said, smiling fondly. “Now the truth comes out.” She leaned to kiss him softly. “We’ll make up for all the sex we’ll miss once your ribs have healed.”

A hopeful smile spread across his face. “Promise?”

If someone were to ask, Sebastian would say that the kisses he gave Molly in public had a code all their own. Since his wife wasn’t always comfortable with kissing on the lips when they weren’t at home, he found other ways to show his devotion.

When Seb wanted to thank her for doing something for him or give her encouragement for saying something clever, he’d kiss her on the cheek. That never failed to bring a happy smile to her face.

When she was upset and he wanted to show that he was there for her, he’d kiss her forehead. She’d sniffle and give him a weak smile.

When she pointed out to someone that she was very happily married, he’d take her left hand and kiss it, keeping his eyes on hers. A happy blush was always his reward.

But as soon as they got home, she would grab the front of his shirt and pull him down for a good snog.

God, he loved this woman.

There was an unspoken tradition between Seb and Molly that every time they heard their song, they’d stop whatever they were doing and dance to it. They were known to dance in the middle of their sitting room, at weddings, at pubs and nightclubs, even, on one memorable occasion, in Mycroft’s office. Both of them loved it.

What Molly didn’t know was that Seb was behind every single instance of their song being played “randomly.” He knew every professional DJ in London – all he had to do was make eye contact and they’d play his and Molly’s song. He also knew the number for their song on every jukebox in all of their favorite pubs. A quick trip to the jukebox while Molly was in the loo or stepping outside to take a phone call was all it took.

He realized she’d caught on when their song “mysteriously” became his new ringtone.

Sebastian woke one morning to the sound of Molly crying. He was standing in the doorway of the bathroom before he even realized he’d gotten out of bed.

Molly was sitting on the counter, sobbing. There was something in her hand but all he cared about was protecting her from whatever was hurting her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly as he gently wrapped his arms around her.

“Oh, Seb…” she whispered, burying her face in his shoulder.

He gently stroked her hair, murmuring, “What is it? Tell me and I’ll make it right, I promise.”

“You … you won’t like it.”

Something in her voice made him curious. “Let me be the judge of that, Molly.”

Wordlessly, she held up the thing she was holding. It was the wand of a pregnancy test, and it clearly indicated “pregnant.” Molly was holding her breath as she looked up at him, her eyes even bigger than usual.

Inside, he was shouting for joy, but he knew he had to be calm for her. Instead, he smiled at her lovingly. “What made you think I wouldn’t like this?”

“We … we never talked about kids.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want them.” Seb kissed her softly. “I love you, I already love this baby, and I hope we have a bunch more after this one.”

She laughed weakly. “A bunch, huh? God, I love you.”

He murmured in her ear, “What do you say we go celebrate?”

“I’d say you read my mind,” she murmured back.

#writing #sebolly

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bespectacledbellman · 7 years

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Who to Vote For – Episode III

For the third time in as many years, the British public – that’s me and you, in most probability – are again heading to the ballot box. I won’t be. I’m a postal voter. I’m not tromping off to some church or primary school.

If you’re reading this, the likelihood is that you don’t really know who to vote for. Or you’ve read some of my previous rants and think this one might be equally amusing. I’ll try my best, but I promise nothing but a strong and stable article... Sorry.

This year seems one of the strangest elections in modern times, because much like a soap opera there is an underlying storyline arc that affects everything: Brexit. True, most elections tend to be dominated by one matter or another, often the economy and immigration. Brexit bundles both of these and more into one glorious package of foggy doom whose very mystery frightens the pants off of most rational people.

However, I will refrain from talking about Brexit – the deal has been done, Article 50 has been triggered. We’re going. It’s now we look at who wishes to lead us and who amongst the political class has the ability to successfully govern an “independent” Britain over the next five years. Those leaders are our current Prime Minister Theresa May, the Marxist renegade Jeremy Corbyn, and the sinner Tim Farron.

All the polls indicate that Theresa May and the Conservatives are heading towards a landslide victory that will rival that of any other Tory Prime Minister. Whilst the polls have been wrong before, it does seem likely that a Conservative victory is in the stars: most who favour Brexit will likely vote for the Tories, especially now that UKIP is a de facto dead duck. Incorporate the usual Conservative base and that’s a strong and stable foundation. (Sorry, again. That’s the last one.) This is before we wonder about Labour voters or floating voters who usually vote for Labour.

The workers’ party has changed immensely since the victory in 1997 of a young visionary named Tony Blair and the candid camera comedy of Gordon Brown, whilst an unfortunate Ed Miliband failed in 2015 in a bacon butty battering. Following Mr Miliband on Twitter, I genuinely fail to understand how his humour, charisma and personality failed to get across. Now Labour is led by Corbyn, who has won two leadership battles in as many years and completely polarises the left. To some he is the Obi-Wan Kenobi of the political world; to others he is a fossil of bygone times that leaves him looking more like the reincarnation of Michael Foot than a successor to the fresh face of a ’97 Blair. His views obfuscate official Labour policy and his flip-flop with the European Union leaves even his strongest supporters sometimes baffled.

Therefore for many floating voters and traditional reds, Labour doesn’t seem to be an option. Yet many will be loathe to vote for the Conservatives, especially as modern day Toryism seems imbued with cruel tax-cuts for the wealthy and public sector-cuts for everyone else. This is slightly unfair as there is sound economic theory for doing both; plus the record of David Cameron, now overshadowed immensely by the gloom of a failed referendum, isn’t actually a “typically Tory” CV: legalisation of gay marriage, increase of the minimum wage and increasing the lower tax threshold to name a few. Yes, there are worries about privatisation of hospitals and healthcare, but as a patient of a private dental clinic, I can tell you it’s not bad. The apparent demise of the NHS is, however, deeply troubling.

We are left then with floating voters who cannot stomach Corbyn, yet are conscientious about public spending and public healthcare (and foxes, as May is rumoured to reintroduce their hunting) to enough of a degree that Conservatism isn’t for them. Who are they left with?

The Liberal Democrats, apparently.

The yellow bird hasn’t quite flown the vicious nest left behind by the tuition fees debacle in the coalition government between 2010 and 2015. People I have spoken to still feel that the Liberal Democrats either lied to or betrayed their voters – this is a fundamental misunderstanding of politics that is either ignorant or naive. The Liberal Democrats may have entered into government, but they did not win their election. This means that their manifesto – a modus operandi for if they win the election – is practically null and void. Nick Clegg was smart to barter the tuition fees increase – which was essentially a certainty anyway – in order to gain a much-needed referendum on electoral reform. For those unaware, electoral reform very rarely happens, simply because the party in power has directly benefitted from the current electoral system, therefore has no need to change it. Unfortunately, Clegg and his centrist posse bartered weakly for the Alternative Vote, a system so evilly convoluted it may as well had been written in Klingon, instead of pressing for Proportional Representation or a partially-elected House of Lords. If electoral reform had succeeded, it would have meant a weakening of Tory and Labour strongholds and a welcome embrace to third, fourth and even fifth parties to the House of Commons. Nick Clegg held the long-term view that electoral reform would strengthen his party to implement the policies they stand for, sacrificing a short-term policy that failed to win them an election.

Now our head is around that, why not vote for the Liberal Democrats? They have championed the rights of practically everyone in the country from native Brits to immigrants, women, the LGBTQ+ community, students (ummm...), low- and middle-income earners, and animals. They’re almost like the Avengers if they were activists. Yet they are amateurish – this is an election where they can push the fact that they support integration with Europe, whilst respecting the Brexit vote. This is an election where they can unconditionally guarantee the rights of EU migrants in the UK right now. Instead, Farron has been drawn into some debate beyond satire that he thinks gay sex is a sin (how Farron’s personal opinion on the bedroom antics of others is important, I’ll never know), distracting voters from Lib Dem policies. Meanwhile their post-EU statements of another referendum, another referendum for when we leave, blah blah blah, has just confused people. A clear message must come out of the Lib Dem camp to combat the opaque and random policies found on the back of fag-packets in Labour Party HQ and the seemingly heartless ones from Millbank Tower. Only then will voters understand that the Liberal Democrats are a genuine third option.

Independents are always a good option. If you really care who your representative is in Parliament, explore the Independents and small-party candidates standing in your constituency. A vote for them is a vote against the Estbalishment (which everyone apparently hates but always seems to vote for) and allows them to reclaim their £500 deposit if they receive 5% of all votes in their constituency. There are currently four Independent MPs sitting in Parliament – evidence that it can be done. Because they have no party loyalty, they are unequivocally representing their constituents, which is how parliamentary democracy is meant to be – at least in theory.

Those are essentially your options. Staunch supporters will vote for their party regardless. Traditional Labour voters anxious over a Corbyn premiership have three choices: support the man who has won the leadership twice, support your local Labour candidate if you like them and hope Corbyn will resign after a bad election, or vote for another candidate entirely. It makes sense for Labour supporters to turn their vote to the Liberal Democrats, whose policies are closest to pre-Corbyn Labour, or an Independent that they identify with. Though the latter won’t make a huge impact on the national scale, they will serve their constituents well; the Lib Dems as a strong third party would be capable of ensuring legislation passed by government is fairer, or block any that isn’t in tandem with other opposition parties. They’re a safe option – not exciting, but reliable, with the long-term interests of the British people at heart.

If you live in any of the devolved areas of the UK, I must confess I lack sufficient knowledge of your needs and issues to provide specific advice. In Scotland it seems that a strong SNP would push for a second independence referendum, which I believe the Scottish people have every right to. In the face of a Conservative government that refuses to comprehend such a matter, even after the constitutional maelstrom of Brexit, it’s in the interest of the Scottish electorate to vote against the Conservatives. Wales and Northern Ireland seem to me unpredictable – I couldn’t even hazard a guess what colour they will go come June 8th.

No matter who you vote for, my message as always is make sure you do vote. Conservative, Labour, Liberal Democrat, Independent or any party, make sure you voice your opinion via the ballot box. If you don’t, you lose the right to voice your opinion for five years, as those who did vote shouldn’t have any respect for your political views. Personally I would advocate for the Liberal Democrats, as only a centrist approach will help to unify a nation becoming increasingly fractured.

If you disagree, great! That’s a strong and stable (that’s definitely the last one, I promise) parliamentary democracy! Just make sure you vote.

If you aren’t registered, you can do so at https://www.gov.uk/register-to-vote.

#politics #uk #uk election #elections 2017 #theresa may #jeremy corbyn #tim farron #Conservatives #Labour Party #Liberal Democrats

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