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inevitably-johnlocked · 1 year

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Hi! do you have any fic recs about sherlock and john having to share a bed for a number of reasons for example they go to an inn and there is only one bed left!! do you also have any recs for sleepy sherlock. Thank you so much!

Hi Nonny!

You're in luck, I love bedsharing fics, and I'm going to use your list as an excuse to post up my next part!! Check these out:

BED SHARING Pt. 6

See also

The Speckled Blonde / BedSharing

BedSharing Pt. 2 and Insecure Sherlock

Bed Sharing Pt. 3

Bed Sharing Pt. 4

Bed Sharing Pt. 5

Sleepy Fics

The Last Room At The End of The Hall by Corporate_cards (G, 219 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff) – All things can wait, for finally things work, in the last room at the end of the hall. Part 1 of Random Things I've Written In Class -- Johnlock

Octopus by glass_rose_paperweight (G, 705 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Fluff, Bed Sharing, Limpet Sherlock) – A week after Sherlock and John finally get together, and John is finding sharing a bed with Sherlock Holmes to be ... difficult, sometimes. If not downright suffocating.

A Comprehensive Taxonomy of Tobacco-Ash by Silvergirl (E, 11,475 w., 2 Ch. || No TRF AU || Cranky Sherlock, Alternating POV’s, Self-Esteem Issues, Jealous John, Pining John, Confessions, First Kiss, Frottage, Bed Sharing, Sensuality, Cuddling, Touching) – A handsome academic approaches Sherlock about publishing his magnum opus on tobacco-ash in a prestigious scientific journal. Sherlock is quite flattered and flustered, and John’s nose is out of joint.In this little AU there is no Fall and no Mary. Instead, there is humor and smut. Truly a disproportionate amount of smut.

holding steady by darcylindbergh (E, 12,724 w., 4 Ch. || Post S4, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Growing Old, Gone Fishing, Mood without Plot, Soft Sherlock, Caring Sherlock, POV John Third Person, Anxious Sherlock, First Kiss, Touching, Feeling Old, Sherlock Worship, Crying Sherlock, Cuddles, Comforting, Introspection, Retirement, Hand Holding, Forehead Kisses, Caring John, Bed Sharing, Emotional Love Making) – Sitting on a thick wool blanket at the end of a rickety dock side-by-side, legs dangling over the edge, a styrofoam container of wet, dark dirt between them, they’re fishing. John knows what this is about. This is about finally figuring it out.

A Hooligans’ Game Played By Gentlemen by scullyseviltwin (E, 15,213 w., 1 Ch. || First Time, Rugby as Foreplay, Porn with Lots of Plot, John POV, Ogling, Body Appreciation, Cranky Sherlock, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Cuddling, Touching, Heavy Petting, Blow Job, Botttomlock) – In which John wants to get back in shape, does so, joins a rugby league and has sex with Sherlock Holmes. In that order.

How To Unfold a Heart by elwinglyre (E, 25,477 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It, BAMF John, Mentioned Eurus, POV First Person Sherlock, Case Fic, Fluff, Slow Burn Topping from the Bottom, 3 Yr Old Rosie, Introspection, Sexual Fantasies, John Worship, Ogling, Hand Holding, Kidnapping, Domesticity, Sherlock Whump, First Kiss/Time, Doctor John, Caring John, Soft Sherlock, Sensuality, Touching, Crying, Love Confessions, Anxious Sherlock, Rimming, Toplock, Fingering, Bossy Bottom John) – To Sherlock’s dismay, John’s return to Baker Street with Rosie is only temporary. Sherlock’s daily visits to Regent Park with John and Rosie illuminate his lost childhood memories and missed opportunities. But with each trip to the park, Sherlock also feels a growing sense of hope. That is until the past horrors return unexpectedly in a cryptic note folded in the shape of a heart. To decipher the message, Sherlock must uncover the nature of the hearts around him, including his own.

Domestic Matters by ohlooktheresabee (M, 29,404 w., 6 Ch. || Fantasy AU || First Meetings, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, BAMF Sherlock, BAMF John, Idiots in Love, Misunderstandings, Supernatural Elements, Implied / Referenced Child Abuse, Elf Sherlock, Human/Elf Politics, Emotional Abuse, Possessive Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, Buddy Greg) – All flatmates need to work out domestic matters between them - who does the dishes, who takes out the rubbish, how often does the carpet need to be vacuumed - these are part and parcel of sharing a living space together. However, when you’re an elf and your flatmate is going to be a human you just met, this rather complicates things…Very loosely inspired by 'The Elves and The Shoemaker' by The Brothers Grimm.

Lucifer's Gardens by ampersand_ch (E, 32,679 w., 12 Ch. || GERMAN VERSION|| Romance, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Murder, Poison / Drugging, Mystery, John Undercover, Academic Club, Therapy, Rituals, Jungian Archetypes, Doctors & Physicians, Grief/Mourning, Esotericism, Hospitals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, John Falls In Love With Another Man, Jealous Sherlock, Crying, Doctor John, Hand Holding, First Kiss/Time, Mysticism, Hugging, Touching) – John goes undercover for an investigation as a favour to Lestrade in a village in Suffolk. The events surrounding the case awaken deep-seated fears in Sherlock. While John begins to come to a realisation of what he needs in Lucifer's Gardens, Sherlock tries to find a way to reach John – in more ways than one.

You Might Just as Well Be Blind by ArwaMachine (E, 56,625 w., 12 Ch. || Fake Relationship, For a Case, Bed Sharing, Platonic Cuddling, Jealous Sherlock, Oblivious John, BAMF Hudders, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Anal Sex, Happy Ending, Case Fic, Flirting, Pining John, POV John, Toplock, Possessive Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Infidelity) – When a serial killer starts targeting couples, Sherlock and John must do what they have to do in order to get to the bottom of things. Unfortunately, John already has a girlfriend. Surely pretending to be in a relationship with Sherlock won't pose any problems with his relationship, will it?

Bakers with Benefits by Raina_at (E, 88,130 w., 14 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Strangers to Lovers, Switchlock, Friends with Benefits, Mentions of Alcoholism / Past Drug Use, Banter, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, Semi-Public Sex, Past Sherlock/Victor, Mutual Pining, POV Sherlock, Obsessive Sherlock, John’s Bum) – Sherlock Holmes has a successful YouTube baking channel, but what he really wants is his own bakery. When an old friend sends him a call for the very first Great British Bake Off, he seizes the opportunity to finally win a sponsor for his bakery. Here's the plan: Win Bake Off, get the bakery, don't fall in love with the handsome Army doctor at the neighbouring station. Easy.

Drawn to Stars by Silvergirl (E, 109,272 w., 60 Ch. || S4 Compliant to TLD / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Sherlock’s Italian Adventure, Sherlock/OC and Johnlock, Jealous John, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, First Kiss/Time, Idiots in Love, 3 Part Story, Slow Burn, Inexperienced Sherlock, Bottom Sherlock, Introspection, Alternating First and Third Person POV, Separation and Reconciliation, Emotional Love Making, Love Confessions via Letters, Angst with Happy Ending) – After the Culverton Smith case Sherlock is clean, working, and looking for a romantic partner—since John has told him that’s what he needs. Shame John didn’t mention he was interested in that role himself, before Sherlock went off to Rome with a gorgeous Italian copper to try to fall in love and become a complete human being. Part 1 of the Drawn to Stars series

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic / Meta Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Demisexual Sherlock, Holmes Family, John Whump, Gay Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Drug Addiction, Parenting, TFP is a Nightmare, Virgin Sherlock, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Switchlock, John’s Past, Sherlock’s Past, Eurus, Love Confessions) –Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #bed sharing fics #bedsharing fics #sleepy fics

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j-eryewrites · 1 year

Text

It Was a Rainy Day

Part One of The Arbitrary Lives of the Occupants of 221 B Baker Street

Word Count: 4.9k

Thanks to @bartokthealbinobat for helping me edit this chapter!

SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

I'm planning this to be an ongoing Sherlock x Reader series that mainly flows the plot of the BBC series. Let me know what you would like to see.

DISCLOSURE: I do not own any of the characters and plot. Those belong to BBC and Arthur Conan Doyle.

__________________________________________________________

“On behalf of our crew, we thank you again for choosing to fly with BWA Airlines. Please stay seated until the seat belt sign has been turned off. We will begin exiting the plane soon.” The speakers above chimed.

Immediately, chatter filled up the air. People were anxious to get off the plane. In all honesty, they had just endured an eight-hour international flight. Ching. The glow from the seatbelt sign flashed off, signaling for people to stand up and stretch their legs. Y/N would have taken the opportunity to stretch her legs, but she was seated next to the window towards the back of the plane. She didn’t think she would be standing up any time soon. Instead, Y/N occupied herself with the view outside of her window.

The sky was an opaque gray. Numerous dark clouds of the same hue covered the warm light of the sun, stopping it from gracing its presence. It was raining. A typical forecast for London in September. But it wasn’t a gentle rain; the rain that tickled your skin as it fell from the sky. No, it was the rain that soaks you to the bone the minute you step outside– real rain. The best kind of rain. Y/N found the rain to be peaceful. Maybe it was the smell that came with the rain as it made the earth anew. Maybe it was the unpredictable yet consistent pattern of the pitter-patter as the water came in contact with the soil. Y/N enjoyed the view of the rain. She let her gaze flip out of focus as she watched the ripples in the puddles. Each wave moved farther away from the center.

“Pardon me, miss.” A cheery flight attendant chirped. The flight attendant’s eyes had dark circles underneath them, yet they held the most pleasant expression. “If you can exit the plane now, we need to prepare for the next flight.”

Y/N tore her eyes away from the view and quickly apologized. Her cheeks burned red out of embarrassment as she hurriedly stood up, snatched her luggage from the overhead compartment, and exited the plane. She was glad that the plane was docked at the main section of the airport, so she didn’t have to trudge through the rain. Any other day she would have been overjoyed to be soaked to the bone, but not today. Y/N wanted to look somewhat presentable when she reunited with her aunt, Mrs. Hudson.

Martha Louise Hudson wasn't Y/N’s aunt by blood, but she was her grandmother’s best friend. Those two were peas in a pod. After Y/N’s grandmother had suddenly passed away from a heart attack, Mrs. Hudson took it upon herself to occupy the vacant role.

“No child should grow up without a grandparent. They need someone to spoil them rotten,” Mrs. Hudson would say.

Despite her family’s abrupt decision to move to the United States, Mrs. Hudson continued filling that role. Occasionally, she would send postcards and presents for birthdays and Christmas detailing her adventures in London. The latest of which was a postcard describing a vacant apartment she was looking to rent. With the prospect of seeing Mrs. Hudson again, with the additional benefits of living in the United Kingdom, Y/N packed up her life and moved back across the ocean.

Baggage claim for flight AQ178. Baggage...It wasn’t hard to miss. All Y/N had to do was peer across the vast sea of people to where the crowd stood. They were all huddled around the baggage carousel. All of them dismissed the advice to stay behind the yellow and black striped line unless they were retrieving their baggage. One by one, they retrieved their bags as they moved down the line.

Eventually, after many turns of the metallic carousel, Y/N’s bags came into view. She crossed the line and grabbed the large suitcases. It was strange to think that all her worldly possessions fit into two suitcases. The cases were covered in dust and grime from the journey despite them being brand-new. Y/N counted each suitcase, a notion in the back of her mind told her something was missing. An unholy screech rang out above the crowd. A sound that could only come from the jaws of a tiny demon–her tiny demon. Y/N winced in embarrassment as she slipped out a small sheet of paper from her pocket. The screeching continued, dragging the attention of innocent travelers. Her cheeks began to flash red as she approached a desk.

Behind the desk there stood a poor young man who was made the unfortunate victim. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and his brows were raised impossibly high. In his shaking hands, he held a crate at arm's length, as if the brown cat inside would bust down the door and steal his soul.

Y/N reached the desk, and coughed, “He’s mine.” She pointed towards the cat who stilled at the sound of her voice.

The man gulped, nodding, and asked to see her ticket to confirm ownership. She quickly presented it to him. His eyes quickly glanced over it. Then he sighed in relief and threw the crate into her hands.

Y/N carefully peered into the crate and was met with the wide golden eyes of Bjørn. The cat stood still as his golden eyes processed what was in front of him. They narrowed slightly and he began to meow again. He was no longer screeching like a demon but singing like an angelic child for his mother had arrived. Y/N whispered words of assurance to the cat, praising him for being the best boy on the flight. He purred under her sweet words.

Y/N’s pocket buzzed, and she carefully set Bjørn’s crate down. Her eyes quickly glanced outside to discover the rain had lightened up. Remembering someone had messaged her, she pulled out her phone and began to read.

___________________________________________________________________

Auntie M

I’m sending one of my good friends and one of your neighbours to come and pick you up from the airport.

His name is John Watson, blonde, and a kind man.

(Read)

___________________________________________________________________

Y/N raised her brow at the message. She was puzzled as to why Mrs. Hudson had sent the description of “kind”. As she read the text over, the cogs in her mind began to turn. Y/N tried to conjure up an image of what a kind British man named John, who happened to be a friend of her Auntie's, looked like.

Picking up Bjørn’s crate, she lugged her bags toward the exit. She passed by people entering and leaving the airport. Some people ran into the arms of their loved ones and others jumped into taxis that took them to their next destination.

Her feet began to slow finally coming to a stop. She turned her head, looking around the crowd. She bit her lip, and a dazed look filled her face. A low drone crept up to her. Y/N’s eyes were immediately dragged down to the taxi in front of her. With a creak, the passenger’s window rolled down.

“Hel’o there, how can I help you today?” inquired the taxi driver. The man wore a white and beige flat cap. He was an older-looking fellow who wore glasses. He flashed Y/N a smile that made her stomach fill with unease.

“Oh no thank you” she quickly replied, stepping away from the car window and closer to the booming crowd outside of the airport.

“American, eh? I’ll be able to take you where you need to go. No problem. You can trust me,” He insisted. With his hand aged with time, he took off his cap and brushed through his wispy white hair. His smile grew bigger as he faked a charming expression.

“No thanks,” answered Y/N. The alarms in her head were howling at her. “I am waiting for someone, you see, to come to pick me up.” Taking a big step back, she sank into the crowd behind her. A woman wearing all pink brushed her shoulder against Y/N. Y/N’s eyes winced at the explosion of color. Everything about this woman was pink: pink phone, pink suitcase, pink overcoat.

“Are you taking this cab?” distractedly asked the woman as she stuffed her baggage into the cab.

“No,” replied Y/N. She wanted to warn the woman in pink, but before she could, the taxi had pulled away from the pickup station and was on its way to who knows where. A buzzing feeling came from the back pocket of her trousers. Pulling her phone out she saw another message from her aunt.

________

Auntie M

I just realized I should probably give you John’s number.

Y/N

- That would actually be great.

Auntie M

Sending it to you right now. I’ll be making a nice dinner to warm you up after all that rain.

Also, your apartment is all set up and waiting for you. :)

Y/N

- Great, that sounds perfect. Thanks, Auntie M

____________

As she waited for John’s number, Y/N thought it would be best to head back inside and find a place to sit. Hearing the ding of her phone and a number pop up she mumbled, “Remind me to thank Auntie M for that…”

An Irish voice popped up next to her, and Y/N’s gaze rose from the screen of her phone to meet dark and mysterious chocolate eyes. “Remember to thank your aunt for that” he chuckled.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. Her eyes scanned the man up and down. He had an edgy and cool air to him. With his smirk, he oozed confidence. There was something about him that intrigued her. He had brown hair that was well-groomed and wore a nicely tailored suit. He reciprocated Y/N’s smile and even more of his charm showed through. “The name is Jim, '' introduced the man. He extended his hand for her to shake.

Y/N couldn’t help but let a giggle escape her lips as she firmly shook Jim’s hand. His grip was warm and strong. “Y/N, and thank you for the reminder, Jim.”

“Anytime.” He replied, making himself comfortable in the open seat next to her. They settled into a pleasant silence. The only sounds that occupied their ears were the wheels of rolling luggage and the light chatter of the other travellers and guests of the airport.

“Work, family, or friends?” inquired Jim, his head tilting slightly to the right to look at Y/N.

“Sorry?”

“What are you here for?” Jim clarified.

“I guess you could say work and a bit of family,” answered Y/N. She began to secretly pick at her fingers, a stim, and nervous habit of hers. Jim cocked one of his eyebrows up with curiosity. “I'm moving back to my roots.”

“From London?” Jim questioned, furthering the conversation.

Y/N paused before answering. The encounter with the taxi driver was still fresh in her memory. She sighed and her shoulder’s relaxed. It wouldn’t hurt to have a friendly conversation, she thought.

“Yeah.” She replied. “I was born here but after a few years my parents and I moved to the U.S.” She shrugged, “and now I’m back.”

“And now you’re back,” Jim repeated softly. There was a minute shift in his expression into something Y/N couldn’t decipher. By the time she noticed it, it was gone; leaving Y/N to wonder if she had imagined it. “Well, London is delighted to have you back,” Jim winked. Then he readjusted his seating position as he straightened his black suit jacket.

“Well, I have to leave. Business to attend to” smiled Jim, “I bid you adieu”. Standing up from the seat next to her, he gave her one more smile. His eyes lingered on her figure. Without another word, he took a few steps, disappearing into the crowd of people.

She sat back in her seat, the image of Jim in her mind. Her thoughts trailed from Jim to her aunt and then…Shit! Y/N realized she did not text John’s number. Immediately pulling out her phone, she sent a quick text. A little gray bubble appeared, and he responded by saying he was there at the airport with a taxi outside. Raising from her seat, she, once again, made her way out of the airport. Y/N searched the crowd, her eyes looking for a man that fit the vague description her aunt had given her.

Just then a young man with kind dark eyes, the shade of morning coffee, and blonde hair approached her. He was wearing a beige knit sweater. Hand knitted...looks like Auntie’s knitting...is this… but her thought was interrupted by his voice. “Are you Y/N? Mrs. Hudson’s niece?” he inquired.

“Yes, that’s me, are you John?” replied Y/N.

“Yep, John. John Watson. Can I help you with your bags?” politely asked John.

A wave of relief fell over Y/N, “Yes, thank you, John.”

John reached for two bags of luggage and began directing Y/N to where the cab was. “It’s no problem really, just doing a favour for Mrs. Hudson” he explained, turning his gaze back to Y/N to smile at her. It was strange to think about how there could be so many different types of smiles. John’s smile was different from Jim’s confident grin, and the eerie smirk of that taxi driver. John’s smile was kind, caring, and calm. It reminded Y/N of the smile etched onto a Teddy bear’s face.

John carefully placed Y/N’s luggage in the trunk. Afterward, he held the door open for Y/N to enter the back seat. John sat down after her, closing the door behind him. “221 B Baker Street” instructed John. The driver nodded and drove off, the station growing smaller and smaller behind them.

After a few moments of silence, John peered at the crate on Y/N’s lap. “You have a cat,” stated John with a questioning tone to his voice.

“Yes, his name is Bjørn.” Bjørn happily meowed in response to his name.

“Didn’t know Mrs. Hudson allowed pets in the apartment,” replied John. He lowered his head to get a good look at Bjørn’s yellow eyes. He smiled at the cat which was reciprocated by a purr.

“Oh, I think he likes you!” Y/N beamed.

John raised his brows flattered by the obvious complement of the cat. He cautiously reached a hand out to pet Bjørn through the crate, his eyes glancing up at Y/N. She nodded and he proceeded to pet the cat. Bjørn’s purrs rumbled the cage as he brushed his neck eagerly against John’s fingers.

“Bjørn, you attention whore,” laughed Y/N. She watched as John’s eyes widened at the cat’s affection. It was as if he was a child who’d been handed an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day.

“I’m sure Mrs. Hudson would approve of you getting a pet for your flat,” stated Y/N. Her eyes reflected John’s adoration for the cat.

“Oh god no!” Exclaimed John withdrawing his hand from Bjørn. “My flat mate is enough of an animal as it is.” He chuckled. “I don’t need another one.” His voice turned quieter towards the end, creating an awkward air between the two in the back of the cab.

“...You have a flat mate?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah.” Responded John.

Y/N awkwardly nodded her head and then moved her gaze to the window.

By now, the sky was the textbook definition of gray. The dark rain cloud from before had fled, leaving the sky empty and barren. Everything seemed dulled by the gray tint the sky cast down. Even the brightly colored leaves and the shimmering lights of the city seemed to fall victim to the solemness.

Eventually, the cab began to decrease in speed as it approached 221 B Baker Street, slowly coming to a halt.

“We’re here” stated John as he paid for the cab before exiting onto Baker Street. He then made his way around the car to Y/N’s side and opened the door for her. He eagerly took Bjørn’s crate from her hands.

Y/N stepped onto the black pavement of Baker Street and took a moment to process her new environment. Then she made her way to the trunk of the cab to retrieve her luggage. John had taken the liberty of placing Bjørn inside 221 and let Mrs. Hudson know that they had arrived back from the airport. He then walked back outside to help Y/N with her luggage. Mrs. Hudson followed suit to greet her grandniece.

“N/N, welcome home!” exclaimed Mrs. Hudson as she made her way to Y/N. Y/N turned toward her aunt. She had a gleeful smile on her face as she reunited with her aunt. Mrs. Hudson opened her arms wide beckoning Y/N in for a hug. As soon as her niece was in arms reach, Mrs. Hudson yanked the young woman into her arms and gave her a tight squeeze. She slightly rocked Y/N back and forth. A large smile erupted on Mrs. Hudson’s face, and she became overjoyed. “Let’s have a look at you, shall we?” she said, pulling away from the hug to place her hands on Y/N’s face and tugging at her cheeks. “My you have grown up to be so beautiful! Just like your mum!”

“Thanks, auntie” sheepishly replied Y/N. Her cheeks turned pink from all the attention she was receiving.

“Oh, it’s so good to have you home. We have some catching up to do!” cheered Mrs. Hudson as she led the way inside 221.

John was patiently waiting by the bottom of the stairs inside the building. Her eyes ran up the steps which Y/N assumed, led up to John’s apartment. “Need anything else Y/N?” inquired John, giving a cheerful smile.

“No, I don’t need anything else.” Y/N gratefully replied. “But if you want to take Bjørn out of his carrier and meet him properly, you are more than welcome to.”

John’s eyes widened with delight as he crouched down toward the crate. With a twang, he released the cat from its confines. Bjørn paraded around. His brown furry head was held high as explored his new kingdom. He then noticed John beside him, quickly bringing head to butt against John’s leg.

A loud creaking came from the upstairs flat, scaring Bjørn. He dashed from John’s side toward his mother. She picked him up and cradled him in her arms. His tail swished around as his golden eyes narrowed in the direction of the noise. Distaste eminent in his tiny figure.

John took that as his cue to leave. “Alright then, welcome to London.” He said before making his way up the stairs to his apartment.

A sigh escaped Mrs. Hudson's lips, “I’m so glad that you’ve moved in. At least, I’ll have a bit more normalcy with you here.” She moved her gaze upstairs to where muffled voices were coming from. Y/N could make out two voices. One belonged to John and the other to, who she assumed was, his flatmate. The flatmate’s voice was baritone and clear.

“Well dear, dinner will be ready soon. Why don’t you go on into your new apartment and get settled? I got it all checked out and even got rid of Sherlock's mold experiment.”

Y/N widened her eyes and opened her mouth to ask but was drowned out by her aunt's continued explanation.

“I had to replace the wallpaper, but I think you’ll like the paint I chose,” explained Mrs. Hudson. “I’ll come and get you when dinner’s done.” She then grabbed a pair of keys out of her pocket and handed them to Y/N. “This key is for entering the building,” she pointed to the brass key and then moved her finger towards a thin black key that looked quite old, “and this key is to your apartment.” Then she patted Y/N’s back sending her in the direction of her new apartment.

The apartment was located on the same floor as Mrs. Hudson’s apartment. Just underneath John’s apartment. The walls were covered in beautiful dark green paint. The curtains looked a bit worn around the edges, but overall, it was cozy. Mrs. Hudson had allowed Y/N to decorate and improve the apartment to her liking, which is something she was very grateful for. But first, she needed time to unpack everything. She placed Bjørn down once the door had been closed. The brown cat immediately gave a big stretch and yawned. Bjørn then looked up towards Y/N as if he was saying he would be exploring now and took off. Chuckling, Y/N brought her luggage to her room and began the time-consuming process of unpacking.

It wasn’t long before Mrs. Hudson entered her niece’s apartment to notify her that dinner was ready. When the elderly lady entered, she was met with open boxes scattered everywhere and loud music playing from the Y/N’s phone.

“Y/N, dear…” grabbing Y/N’s attention, “dinner is ready”.

Moving towards the phone, Y/N let the music die down. “I’ll be there in a minute, just let me finish unpacking this one thing.”

“Of course, dear” replied Mrs. Hudson. “Oh!” Mrs. Hudson chuckled as Bjørn rubbed up against her. “What a good boy.” She reached down to pet the cat. Standing up she brushed her hands off and made her way back out the door, slowly and carefully closing it behind her.

Y/N placed the last book on the shelf and smacked her hands together in a wiping motion. “Right then, dinner.” She carefully stepped over the numerous cardboard boxes lying around the apartment. Eventually, she reached her door. Bjørn’s head peaked up in interest as the knob of the door turned. “No, Bjørn. I’ll be back”. The cat seemed to acknowledge her statement and jumped on the couch. After a few customary circles, he was satisfied and collapsed down to the soft surface.

Upon closing the door, Y/N heard two pairs of footsteps making their way down the stairs. She stood still listening to them.

“No John, I do not intend on greeting the new neighbor.” There was that baritone voice again. John’s flat mate.

“Come on Sherlock. She’s Mrs. Hudson’s niece, at least do it for her.” pleaded John.

The footsteps had ceased, and a deafening silence had filled the air. “For the last time, John. I do not intend to meet this new neighbor. I guarantee you that she will have moved out by the end of the week. As most of the other tenants of 221 do.” Then a tall man wearing a long black trench coat appeared and then quickly disappeared as he slammed the door to Baker Street.

“For heaven’s sake, Sherlock,” yelled John as he followed his flat mate out the door.

Y/N huffed in anger, as she made her way to her aunt’s flat. I don’t want to meet you too, Sherlock, she thought. Y/N didn’t even have to knock on the door for Mrs. Hudson to state that she could come in. “Door’s open, come on in”.

Mrs. Hudson was finishing placing the dishware on the table. “Sounds like you just missed John and Sherlock” chimed Mrs. Hudson.

“And a good thing too,” muttered Y/N, causing Mrs. Hudson to ask her to repeat, “Oh nothing.”

“Alright then. Let’s not let dinner get cold,” Mrs. Hudson said as she motioned to the seats signaling Y/N to sit down for dinner.

They chatted amongst themselves. Y/N relayed all the latest detail of her life to her surrogate grandmother: who she was friends with, her job, past relationships, how her family was, the whole lot. As they shared the meal, Y/N felt her bond with Mrs. Hudson restore as if she never moved away in the first place.

Now, it was Y/N’s turn to ask a question. “Who is John’s flat mate?,” Y/N pondered.

“That’ll be Sherlock.” Mrs. Hudson crinkled her eyes and nose with fondness. “He’s a consulting detective.”

“A consulting detective? Never heard of it,” Y/N mentioned.

“Consults on difficult criminal cases. He helps Scotland Yard solves crimes and murders. He’s the one who got my husband the death sentence” explained Mrs. Hudson. Her eyes widened at the statement. “Any tea, Y/N?”

Glancing up from the now empty plate, Y/N replied, “Oh, no thanks”.

Mrs. Hudson then nodded her head and continued to talk about Sherlock, bringing a hand to her heart. She talked about all the strange people who came to visit him. Often relaying stories that would make Y/N raise her brows in concern. Mrs. Hudson’s face contorted as she mentioned his strange and disturbing experiments, one of which was the mold that used to occupy Y/N’s flat. Switching back to her cheerful smile, she began proudly explaining Sherlock’s gift of being able to tell almost everything about a person.

Y/N’s head began pounding as it filled up with all the compliments her aunt had to say about Sherlock. She chuckled trying to hide a wince from the pain in her head. Y/N placed down her fork and knife and leaned in slightly toward her aunt. “Auntie M, thank you for dinner, but…” she trailed off. “I’m feeling tired, and I think that the jet lag is getting to me.”

Looking up in concern, Mrs. Hudson rose from her seat, “Of course, N/N.” She gave Y/N a soft smile and headed towards the door, opening it to let her niece out. “Goodnight, sleep well.” She reached out a hand to pat her niece’s shoulder.

“Goodnight” replied Y/N.

As Mrs. Hudson closed the door, Y/N brought a hand to her temple massaging it. It was still pounding. She trudged to her flat and opened it. With little effort, she crawled into bed. Bjørn hopped up next to her. He snuggled up close purring loudly as she lazily pet him. Her hand slowly fell limp on top of Bjørn’s brown fur. His deep purrs slowly guided his owner gently to sleep.

_____________________________________________________________

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thefisherqueen · 5 months

Text

Three days later appeared a paragraph in the Morning Post to say that the marriage between Baron Adelbert Gruner and Miss Violet de Merville would not take place. The same paper had the first police-court hearing of the proceedings against Miss Kitty Winter on the grave charge of vitriol-throwing. Such extenuating circumstances came out in the trial that the sentence, as will be remembered, was the lowest that was possible for such an offence. Sherlock Holmes was threatened with a prosecution for burglary, but when an object is good and a client is sufficiently illustrious, even the rigid British law becomes human and elastic. My friend has not yet stood in the dock.

Kitty Winter got more sympathy and mercy here than most abuse victims who attack their abuser get today. I wonder which sentence 'the lowest that was possible for such an offence' would be. Anyone has an idea? A few years in jail? I can't imagine Kitty Winter would be too upset by that, having both had her personal revenge and the knowledge that the baron's reputation was publicly destroyed. Still. That must have been a bad trail for her to go through.

And, yes, it is not fair but it makes sense that Holmes' client would use his influence to keep Holmes out of jail. Lucky, good-hearted, unhinged man. All in all an interesting case and a well written story, probably one of my favorites so far. I don't think it's likely, but I hope we will see more of Kitty Winter and Johnson

#letters from watson #sherlock holmes #the illustrious client

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bookloover35 · 1 year

Text

Sherlock x fem reader-My Wife.

Yns Pov.

Mrs Holmes, Mrs Holmes, I still can not believe it's true.

Even a year later, I still can not believe that it's true, that I Yn (Y.L.N) is married to Sherlock Holmes himself.

And today, during our wedding day, I'll get a chance to help with a case.

Because Sherlock has said that he needs a woman's thinking, and according to him I would like to follow a really exciting case.

And he has a very good score, I would really like a good case, I have read almost every detective book like Sherlock and I have at home in our library and unfortunately I have not received any cases due to the fact that I am a female detective.

Sherlock knows I love reading detective stories daily and it's a little comical that I married a detective.

Yn: I have a bad feeling about this Sherlock, you understand that no one will take me seriously.

Sherlock: My love, they will take you seriously, you are the smartest woman I have ever met, apart from my mother and little sister.

Yn: I hope you'm right.

Sherlock: I'm always right my love.

Yn: You're not always right.

(Jumpskip)

Lestrad: Aa Sherlock good to se you, What is she doing here! You know that a crime scene investigation is not for a woman.

Sherlock: She is my wife, and both you and I know he Yn is the perfect help during this police case the young woman who has disappeared is only two years younger than her. Yn is the only one of us who can know how she thinks.

Thank goodness Sherlock said something before me, really hate when men look down on us women.

We women can be as smart as the men we can even be smarter than them, I gave Sherlock a kiss on his cheek and said.

Yn: Thank you dear husband.

Well gentlemen let's start working we have a missing woman to find and I think her parents will be happier the sooner we find her.

I told them both and then I went to Lestrad and asked him very kindly.

Yn : Mr Lastrad, can you please show me Miss Marywhater's bedroom and while I'm in there, I prefer to be alone so I am not disturbed.

( Jumpskip again sorry).

I walked around the young woman's room and I got to be there myself I really did not have time with police officers who say being a detective is not for a woman. As I walked around there, I began to observe my surroundings.

Yns mind:

She seems to be an ordinary woman, Loves her family and friends but she is very dissatisfied with her parents' choices but it is a matter of course no woman wants to get married many want to marry out of love.

Nothing in her room is broken so there is no sign of violence and her mother told her that the day she disappeared, her bedroom window was open so it excludes one thing that she was not forced to follow.

I continued to walk towards the woman's bookshelf and began to pull my fingers along the books. She seems to love reading books specific love books, my fingers stopped at a very famous romantic novel, Romeo and Juliet. You could see from the book's appearance that it was the one she read often, I decided to open the book where she had stopped reading and what I was met by was that she had cut a small compartment in the dock, and in the compartment there was a lots of love letters from one and the same man.

Yns mind.

Now all the pieces fall into place a young woman deeply in love with a man she can not marry according to her parents. The young couple decides to run away from each other, the case is resolved must bring these letters to Sherlock.

A woman can not be a detective HA.

Sherlocks Pov:

Lestrad: This is pointless, do not take Sherlock badly but your wife will not find any. Me and my very best men have already searched the entire bedroom and we found nothing.

I was very prepared to scold him but was stopped by Yn coming into the living room with a smile on her face and a very proud look on her face.

Yn: I have already solved the case Mr and Mrs Marywhater's daughter is in Paris, this in my hand is a lot of love letters from one and the same man named Jonathan Ericsson.

And in the letters she has explained how she does not want to marry the man her parents have chosen for her and in the last letter it said when he will come and pick her up and then they will flee to Paris.

And guess where I found the letters somewhere in her bookshelf hidden inside her favorite book, it seems that you and your cops did not check properly.

She said to him and gave him the letters then she went up to me you could really see the shock on his face. She stood next to me and hugged my arm wow what a woman she smiled at me I smiled back at her then I looked at Lestrad and said.

Sherlock: You heard what Yn said, so you tell Mr and Mrs Marywhaters that their daughter is well and happy.

Then we left, and just when we got out I stopped and turned Yn so that she stood in front of me, before she had time to say something I kissed her she was not ready at first but then she kissed me back, wow I really married a amazing woman.

The end.

#sherlock x you #enola 2 #enola holmes #henry!sherlock holmes x reader #wattpad #wattpad story #wattpadstories #henry cavill #henry sherlock

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storiesbytoria · 11 months

Text

At The Docks

a Sherlock Holmes Chapter One (by Frogwares) fanfiction

Summary: Sherlock unravels a new theory about a recent case, but it requires a midnight trip to the docks, and he needs Jon to accompany him.

Notes: Established Sherry/Jon - Jon is real

You can find this and more writing on my A03 account:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesbytoria/profile

AT THE DOCKS

The wooden slats of the pier creaked beneath Sherlock and Jon’s feet as they approached the end of the dock.

It was quite late in Cordona, streets near empty and moon high in the sky - or what could be seen of it in the breaks between clouds. It cast the sea in patchworks of silver and ink, broken only by the blush of warm orange from the oil lamp in Sherlock’s hand.

Sherlock had had another of his unexpected breakthroughs regarding a recent case of theirs that hadn’t fit quite right in the detective’s mind. A theory on what was missing had Sherlock bolting out of bed and nudging a sleeping Jon awake only an hour earlier.

It was an impressive skill to say the least - Jon’s ability to be all but dead to the world and then awake and functioning the next moment. Sherlock could often go nights without sleep at all, but he imagined most people would be quite disoriented upon being awakened from such a fitful sleep. He supposed the chill night air might have rendered some assistance though.

Sherlock might have let his companion sleep through his latest realization had it not involved something of a…delicate matter…

Jon surveyed the dark surface of the water.

“Down there, then?” Sherlock nodded, and Jon began to shrug the leather straps off his shoulders. Sherlock took them from him once they were unclipped from his pants.

“You’re quite sure you’re awake enough for this?” Jon grinned.

“You wound me, Sherry,” he said with a wink, fingers making quick work of his vest buttons before handing the clothing off for Sherlock to hold as well. The detective folded both carefully over his forearm as Jon began removing his shoes and socks.

“I’d imagine it’s somehow stuck or secured at the bottom. It might be best to survey the area first. Come back once you’ve found it, and if we’re in need of tools, I’m sure the fisherman’s shack there may prove useful.” Sherlock gestured to the small wooden shed at the other end of the pier. Jon nodded with a hum.

“Sounds like a plan.” Jon breathed out, rubbed at his upper arms as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “The water’s sure to be freezing at this time of night.” The young man turned to Sherlock, smirking as he swung his arms at his sides. “I hope you’re prepared to thank me later.” Sherlock couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’m sure I can think of something.” Jon grinned, pulling each of his knees to his chest a couple times and shaking his arms out before preparing to jump into the water, the wood groaning beneath his quick warm up routine. Sherlock caught his bicep.

“J-Jon…” Jon stopped, met Sherlock’s gaze and noted the tight grip on his arm. Sherlock parted his lips to speak, hesitated…Jon squeezed his partner’s hand, smile warm, bright, and reassuring.

“I will…” Jon answered. “Promise.”

Sherlock released a breath, nodded. With one last smile, Jon jogged to the end of the pier and jumped. He came right back up to the surface with a gasp.

“B-bloody hell, I was right, it’s freezing .” Sherlock moved closer to the edge of the pier, stifling a laugh. After all, Jon was doing him quite the favor.

“It might be best to hurry, then, Jon.”

“Yea, yea.” Jon held a thumbs up. “Be right back.” With a last reassuring glance, Jon disappeared beneath the water’s surface. Thankfully, the sea was relatively calm tonight - only light waves that had Sherlock less worried about a current. Sherlock counted.

28…29…30…31…

Jon broke the surface, flipping hair out of his face and wiping saltwater from his eyes.

“Found it!” Sherlock squatted at the edge of the pier, relieved at Jon’s reappearance and excited at the confirmation of his theory.

“Just like I described?” Jon grinned.

“Exactly! Looks like it’s been tied down. Just rope, though.” Sherlock nodded, grateful that it wasn’t anything sturdier. Rope could be hard enough to cut through while underwater - filing through anything metal would have taken all night, nevermind being nearly impossible for one person. Hopefully there was a good sailor’s knife in the fisherman’s hut.

“I’ll be right back, Jon.” Jon gave him a thumbs up before rubbing at his arms for warmth. Leaving Jon’s clothing at the pier, Sherlock jogged over to the hut, hoping it was open. He was half correct - though the wooden door was locked, the lock itself was overused and the latch rusted. He made a mental note to leave a message apologizing to the owner. With a well placed kick, the lock snapped, door swinging open to reveal the mess of tools and supplies within the shed.

Rope. Lots of it. Fishing rods, lines, and hooks. Buckets that reeked of fish and seawater. Bundles of nets, rolls of maps - likely to track the currents and school patterns. On the left side was a wooden box littered with metal tools. Sherlock began to rifle through it.

Eye hooks. A hammer. A handsaw. Loose fishing line. Sherlock moved aside a wad of fabric - likely for sail repairs - and finally located what he needed. Sherlock tested the blade on the fabric, and it cut, with some effort. An older knife, then. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do. Hopefully Jon’s strength could compensate for the slight dullness.

Running back to the end of the pier, Sherlock crouched, thankful that Jon was still okay despite some shivering. He reached out as far as he could before letting the knife fall. Jon caught it with ease.

“It’s a bit dull, but it should do the trick,” Sherlock explained. Jon examined the knife briefly before nodding.

“Alright. Might take me a couple tries, but I should have it up to you soon, Sherlock.” Jon gave a playful salute and a wink before setting the knife between his teeth. He dove back into the water. Sherlock stayed in his crouch, counting again.

30…31…32…33…34…

Jon resurfaced with a few loud gasps - knife in his hand.

“It’s a bloody thick rope, Sherry.”

“Will the knife manage?” Jon nodded, taking a few more gulps of air. Sherlock knew any sort of strain while holding your breath was sure to be difficult to maintain. But Jon was obstinate in his own ways.

Jon submerged again. Three more times after that. And honestly, Sherlock was starting to become a bit baffled at how long his companion was lasting. Jon was very visibly fit - there was no doubt in that regard - but it wasn’t often that Sherlock had to fully rely on his partner’s strength and endurance. They often paired so well together that they were rarely overexerted when dealing with the tougher-than-usual crowd.

33…34…35…36…37…38 - Sherlock staggered to his feet. 39…40…41…42

Jon returned, and Sherlock’s entire body shook in relief.

“Jon, how-”

“I got it!” Jon exclaimed between gasps for air, grin wide as he punched the water in triumph. He tossed the knife onto the pier. He took a few more big gulps of breath, running fingers through the hair sticking to his forehead. “Just have to bring it up.” Grateful that the hardest part was over, Sherlock smiled.

“Well done, my friend. Do you think you can handle the weight?” Jon pressed his lips together in consideration.

“I’ll try. One second.” For the seventh time that night, Jon disappeared beneath the water’s surface. Sherlock hadn’t even made it to 30 this time, though, when he reappeared. Jon looked mildly ashamed. “Sorry, Sherry, it’s definitely heavy. Or…” he said with an abashed smile. “...maybe I’m just a bit tired.” Sherlock shook his head and got to his feet.

“You’ve done wonderfully, Jon, no need to be sorry.” The detective thought back to the fisherman’s shed. “There’s some tools we can use so I can help pull it up from here.” After all, Sherlock’s strength had yet to be used, and Jon could still assist from below.

A few minutes later, Sherlock had crafted a rope and hook for Jon to secure to the sack of evidence.

“You’re sure you’re alright to go once more?” Jon nodded enthusiastically, though Sherlock was keen to notice the exhaustion making his breaths tremble. Jon wouldn’t lie to him, though, and they would soon be finished. Sherlock would make sure his friend got as much rest as needed afterwards. “Alright. Once you’ve secured the hook, give a few tugs, and I’ll start pulling from here.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Jon replied with another wink. Taking the hook from Sherlock, Jon dove back into the Cordona sea for what they both hoped would be the last time.

It wasn’t long before Sherlock felt the tugs.

Wrapping the rope around both hands, Sherlock dug into his heels and began pulling. Whatever was down there really was heavy - whether it was from the object(s) inside or from the water weight, he couldn’t tell - but thankfully, he felt the weight grow a bit lighter. Jon.

A few pulls and Sherlock guessed the evidence must have been at least halfway to the surface. Excitement at once again being proven correct and solving the crime that had itched at the back of his mind the past week gave him a bit more adrenaline, and he gave a few heartier pulls on the rope. It felt like good progress until the weight on the other end suddenly increased. Sherlock slid forward, holding and waiting for Jon to readjust.

The weight didn’t lessen. Sherlock felt fear lock his arms.

Jon .

A second more.

Sherlock didn’t quite remember what happened next. Only a vague feeling of his mind and body clashing, and then….black.

~~~~~

“Sherry! Sherry, wake up!” There was pressure on his chest, then a mouth against his, then a surge of awareness and sea water that had Sherlock jerking to the side and heaving onto the sand. Jon’s hands were everywhere, frantic until they seemed to remember that rubbing his back might help encourage more of the sea water out of Sherlock’s lungs. Jon’s hands were shaking.

“Dammit, Sherry, I’m so…so sorry…” Jon’s voice was broken, but if it was because of sea water or panic, Sherlock couldn’t tell. He still had more of his own sea water to expel. A few coughs later, and it seemed his lungs were clear. Jon pulled him into a hug, tight and desperate. “I’m so sorry, Sherry, but why, in god’s name did you jump in?” Sherlock blinked, confused.

“Jump…in?” Sherlock reverted to what he did best. Observation.

They were sitting on the small stretch of sand by the pier, sand and water and fabric stuck to Jon’s face and figure. He was visibly shaking, but the panic in his eyes made it hard for Sherlock to discern if he was at risk of hypothermia or simply shaken by whatever had just happened.

Sherlock then noted that he, too, was soaked. Fully clothed, covered in sand, and trembling lightly.

He had fallen in? While trying to pull the evidence up? Did the rope snap? Did the weight pull him over? The weight. He had noticed the weight of the evidence change as he was pulling it up. He thought…he thought Jon might have been incapacitated…drowne-

But Jon was here . And he was okay.

“Jon, you’re…alright.” Jon nodded, taking Sherlock’s face into his hands.

“Yes, yes, my…my pant leg got caught, that’s all. I was already free when you jumped in to…” Jon released a winded laugh. “...to save me?” Sherlock’s hands had somehow found their way around Jon’s wrists, keeping him close. “The brilliant Sherlock Holmes who knows he can’t swim jumped into the ocean to…to try and save a man who wasn’t drowning?”

Sherlock frowned, aware enough now to note the mild teasing. He felt reflexively defensive at his intellect being questioned, but he needed to address the fact that it hadn’t just been ‘a man’...

“It..wasn’t just anyone…” Sherlock grumbled, looking away. “It was you , Jon.” Jon released a shaky sigh, eyes closing as he pressed his forehead to Sherlock’s temple, one of his hands slipping to Sherlock’s neck.

“Thank you…Sherry. But please…if you value my health, don’t ever do that again.”

“Are you formally requesting that I do not assist you if you were to ever be drowning again?” Jon smirked.

“I wasn’t drowning.” Sherlock didn’t pout.

“You could have been. How would I have known otherwise?” Jon chuckled, starting to get to his feet and helping Sherlock to his own.

“Alright, well, you must be alright, if you’re already back to your stubborn self.” Sherlock bit back the I’m not stubborn that threatened to leave him. He knew, with Jon’s maturity level, that it surely wouldn’t have been taken in his favor.

With the two back on their feet, and Jon’s hand in his, Sherlock was reminded of how frigid his companion’s skin was. Though he could definitely do with a warm fire and some tea himself, Jon had spent too ample an amount of time in the freezing waters. He tugged lightly on Jon’s fingers.

“Come, we should get you dried up.” Jon stopped him, a rare look of defeat on his face.

“I’m sorry, Sherlock, I…I dropped the sack.” Jon rubbed at an arm. “It should still be around where I found it, and…I wanted to try grabbing you both, but…” Sherlock rested a hand to Jon’s cheek, pressed a thumb to his lips to quiet him.

“Nonsense, Jon. There’s no need for you to apologize.” Sherlock laced their fingers together. “Come, let’s return home, rest, and try again tomorrow. I doubt we’ll make any better progress tonight,” he finished with a teasing smile. Jon returned the smile, though it was a bit softer. He squeezed Sherlock’s fingers between his own, easing the slight tremble in them too.

They had to make a quick detour to get Jon’s clothes from the pier, but Jon made Sherlock stand and wait for him at the end of the pier by the shore - well away from the water - despite Sherlock’s grumblings.

When Jon returned to Sherlock’s side, clothing in one arm and their oil lamp in the other, Sherlock took the lamp from him. He was a little surprised by how quickly Jon took Sherlock’s free hand back into his, but when he looked to his companion, Jon seemed adamant about avoiding his gaze. He looked away, but let himself walk a little closer to his companion than usual.

“I owe you, Jon. I can make you whatever you’d like when we get back to Stonewood.” Jon grinned, and Sherlock was happy to see some of the life back in his eyes.

“I’ll hold you to that,” his companion replied. “But for now, I think we very much need a bath and some sleep.” Sherlock smiled softly and nodded.

“Agreed.” Jon swung their hands together briefly.

“But I hope you’re prepared to make me a five course breakfast of kings tomorrow.” Sherlock wondered if he maybe should have put some parameters on his offer. Jon’s appetite was, after all, unmatched.

Thanks for reading!!

Hope you enjoyed! As I'm getting back into writing, I very much appreciate comments and constructive feedback, so feel free to leave them as you desire! (Or just gush over how wonderful these characters are too, I give you free reign lol)

#sherlock holmes #frogwares sherlock #sherlock holmes chapter one #sherlock fanfic #jonlock #sherlock and jon #jonathan #frogwares #sherlock holmes fanfiction #fanfiction #videogame fanfiction

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edgarsullivans · 1 year

Text

where i see the father brown characters in twenty years

felicia - she divorces monty, and becomes the cool mysterious aunt who is the peak of fashion and glamour, occasionally stopping and meeting up with old friends, but she mainly ends up living in paris for the rest of her life.

father brown + flambeau - he waits as long as possible to get retired, but eventually he does. when he retires, flambeau also ‘retires’ from a life of crime and they travel the world together. Of course, neither of them will every really stop, and their lives still mainly consist of Father Brown trying to guide Flambeau away from stealing things or getting him out of sticky situations.

mrs m - she goes back to Ireland to make up with lost time with her siblings, but she writes to her old friends every week. i also see her ending up as a mini ms marple for her tiny village in ireland.

bunty - ive said this before, but ill say it again, she defo ends up as a british spy in London in a 60s spinoff called the “right honourable” where she has a sherlock holmes + dr watson relationship with her assistant or smth

sid - he buys himself a canal boat and lives the rest of his life going from dock to dock exploring local sights wherever he visits, occasionally dropping in on mrs m to check shes okay <3

sullivan - i see him having a midlife crisis and doing so work on what he actually wants to do in life and he ends up leaving the police force and becoming a non- fiction writer of historical books on really obscure eras living in a flat in Baker Street ( bunty + him totally end up being friends after a while )

valentine - he ends up taking early retirement to the countryside and becomes the new father brown of kembleford, meddling with the people he once was + trying to make up for police injustices. him and father brown exchange letters every week or so.

goodfellow - becomes the inspector of the kembleford constabulary, stays being a great guy and tries his best to work with valentine just like valentine did with father brown.

mallory - retired and now lives in durham to spend more time with his family as he felt bad for missing out so many important moments in his l children’s lives.

#father brown #bunty windermere #mrs mccarthy #felicia montague #fatherbrown #sid carter #inspector sullivan #goodfellow #inspector mallory #inspector valentine

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hey-sherry · 1 year

Text

Act II Spoilers! Screenshots! Thoughts!

This is soooo cool

Unexpected Watson's backstory time but it was neat! Talking about superstitions, so shortly before the everything happens - nice one.

It's interesting that the game changed their outfits for the cut-scene, but the glasses I'd put on Sherlock stayed.

There we go... I expected a reference to that one Russian ship and was not disappointed.

And boyyy did I scream at this, and immediately thought of the Consulting Artist crew over here :'D They're REALLY sending mixed messages in this game. Sherlock, maybe you need to open those letters from Vogel, perhaps he just wants all of his shit back?

The lone Mycroft reference </3

Well, so far, so good! I had fun running around the docks and helping people, I totally misjudged both the barmaid and the young doctor, but in the end everything was alright.

At this point I was starting to miss Creepy Watson, because this Lively Watson keeps getting into doorways and narrow passages and he cannot be pushed away. I actually really like the way he moves around, I just wish he wasn't in my way so much. :D

Oh, and please shut up about the meat pie. Please.

Desire to draw Dishonored crossover fanart INTENSIFIES!!!

Loving these puzzles, they're fresh and new. I didn't have too much trouble with the first one, but we'll see how they get later on!

No clue what's going on, but NOW it's starting to pick up. The creepiness, the horror! It was a bit strange that Sherlock's sudden beard went completely ignored by everyone, but alright?

FANSERVICE. YES. SCREAMING!

I didn't catch a screenshot, but he very clearly yells "Jon" before Watson comes rushing in :D

Anime moment because we can't stay serious

Poor, sweet Watson. This was very touching.

I really appreciate both TA and CO for simply letting men cry it out and it's no big deal.

#shta diary #sherlock holmes the awakened #my screenshots #shta spoilers #spoilers

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gardeninghoe98 · 10 months

Text

Cleaning out my movie lists

SciFi List 👽

Barbie Movie List 💖

Barbie List Round 2 📝

Phone Gallery 📷

Off the top of my head ⭐

1920s deep dive 🎞

From an old Tumblr post ⏪

--------------

The Cabinet of Dr.Caligari (1920) 🎞

The Kid (1921)🎞

Häxan (1922)🎞

Hard Luck (1922)🎞

Norrtullsligan (1923)🎞

Aelita (1924)🎞

Sherlock Jr (1924)🎞

The Battleship Potemkin (1925)🎞

Gold Rush (1925)🎞

Body and Soul (1925)🎞

The Big Parade (1925)🎞

Strike (1925)🎞

Faust (1926)🎞

A Page of Madness (1926)🎞

Menilmontant (1926)🎞

Metropolis (1927)🎞

Sunrise (1927)🎞

The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928)🎞

Steamboat Bill Jr (1928)🎞

The Docks of New York (1928)🎞

The Man Who Laughs (1928)🎞

Jujiro (1928)🎞

Zvenigora (1928) 🎞

The Crowd (1928)🎞

The Fall of the House of Usher (1928)🎞

Blackmail (1929)🎞

Finis Terræ (1929)🎞

Un Chien Andalou (1929)🎞

Twentieth Century (1934) 📝

Modern Times (1936) 👍

Gold Diggers of 1935 (1935) 📝

His Girl Friday (1940) 📝

Philadelphia Story (1940) 📝

Citizen Kane (1941) ⏪

Matter of Life and Death (1946) 📝

The Red Shoes (1948) 📝

The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951)👽

Tales of Hoffmann (1951) 📷

An American in Paris (1951) 📝

Earrings of Madame De... (1953) 📝

Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954) 👽

Forbidden Planet (1956) is 👽

1984 (1956) 👽

Mon Oncle (1958) 📝

The Children's Hour (1961) 📷

The Ladies Man (1961) 📝

The Cat Who Wore Sunglasses (1963) 📷

Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964) 💖

Dr. Strangelove (1964)👽

Young Girls of Rouchefort (1967) 📝

Playtime (1967) 📝

2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) 📝

Model Shop (1969) 📝

Solaris (1972) 👽

The Godfather (1972) 📝

The Wicker Man (1973) 📷

Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)

Saturday Night Fever (1977) 📝

Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978) 👽

Attack of the Killer Tomatoes (1978) 👽

Heaven Can Wait (1978) 📝

All That Jazz (1979) 📝

Wrath of Khan (1982) 👽

And the Ship Sails On (1983) 📝

Splash (1984) 📝

Pee Wee's Big Adventure (1985) 📝

Wings of Desire (1987) 📝

Akira (1988) 👽

Woman on the Edge of a Nervous Breakdown (1988) 📝

Troop Beverly Hills (1989) ⭐

Edward Scissorhands (1990)💖

Party Girl (1995)📝

Ghost in the Shell (1995) 👽

Watermelon Woman (1996) ⏪

Goodwill Hunting (1997) ⏪

The Royal Tenenbaums (2001) ⭐

Big Fish (2003) 💖

Saving Face (2004) ⏪

Little Miss Sunshine (2006) 📷

Waitress (2007)📝

Pariah (2011) ⏪

Inception (2010) 👽

Ex Machina (2014) 👍

Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) 📷

Tangerine (2015) ⏪

Brooklyn (2015) 📷

Jackie (2016)💖

The Love Witch (2016) 💖

Lady Macbeth (2016)⭐

Handmaiden (2016) ⏪

Moonlight (2016) ⏪

Roma (2018) ⏪

Mama Mia 2 (2018) ⭐

Little Women (2019)💖

Greener Grass (2019) 💖

Knives Out (2019) ⭐

Barb and Star go to Vista Del Mar (2021)💖

White Noise (2022)💖

Do Revenge (2022) 💖

Knives Out 2 (2022) ⭐

X (2022) ⭐

The Wonder (2022) ⭐

Nope (2022) ⭐

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traceydyer · 2 years

Text

[PDF] Peril at the Exposition (Captain Jim Agnihotri, #2) - Nev March

Download Or Read PDF Peril at the Exposition (Captain Jim Agnihotri, #2) - Nev March Free Full Pages Online With Audiobook.

[*] Download PDF Here => Peril at the Exposition (Captain Jim Agnihotri, #2)

[*] Read PDF Here => Peril at the Exposition (Captain Jim Agnihotri, #2)

Captain Jim Agnihotri and his new bride, Diana Framji, return in Nev March's Peril at the Exposition, the follow up to March's award-winning, Edgar finalist debut, Murder in Old Bombay.1893: Newlyweds Captain Jim Agnihotri and Diana Framji are settling into their new home in Boston, Massachusetts, having fled the strict social rules of British Bombay. It's a different life than what they left behind, but theirs is no ordinary marriage: Jim, now a detective at the Dupree Agency, is teaching Diana the art of deduction he?s learned from his idol, Sherlock Holmes.Everyone is talking about the preparations for the World's Fair in Chicago: the grandeur, the speculation, the trickery. Captain Jim will experience it first-hand: he's being sent to Chicago to investigate the murder of a man named Thomas Grewe. As Jim probes the underbelly of Chicago?s docks, warehouses, and taverns, he discovers deep social unrest and some deadly ambitions.When Jim goes missing, young Diana must venture to

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inevitably-johnlocked · 1 year

Note

HII!

I wanted to know if you could recommend some very nice Top John fics with plots? Looking forward to your response.

Thank you for all you do for the Fandom. Very grateful. Have a lovely day/night!

Hi Lovely!

Oh gosh, you're far too kind!

I actually have quite a few fics, but I'm also going to use your ask to post my Pt 3 list of Bottomlock fics, so I hope you don't mind. To get the longer, more plotty fics, please start at the bottom of this and all the suggested See Also lists, and work your way up them. Since I put my lists in word-count order, the longer, more plotty ones will be near the bottom <3

I hope you enjoy, and if anyone has something new to add, please do! <3

BOTTOMLOCK Pt. 3