#sherlock holmes is bad with fellings

[softestqueeen]

i can't do this anymore!

pairing: bbc!sherlock x gn!reader

summary: When Sherlock overhears you talking on the phone, he thinks you're going to leave him.

warnings: nothing really, just miscommunication and a little angst

a/n: hey, this is my first ever fanfic so please be a bit patient with me. English is not my first language, I apologise for all the mistakes I've probably made.

Sherlock and you have been in an relationship for almost two years and so far everything was going great. Well, at least that’s what Sherlock thought.

Until one day, when he overheard you on the phone talking to your best friend, Mary. It wasn’t his intention to eavesdrop, but you looked upset while talking and he just wanted to assure he wasn’t the cause for it.

You were on the phone ranting to your best friend about wanting to quit your job. It didn’t make you happy anymore and you’ve already applied for new jobs. You didn’t tell Sherlock yet, because he was very busy with one of his cases and didn’t want to bother him with something that could wait.

“I’ve noticed that in these past few weeks I wasn’t happy anymore with this situation. I can’t keep on doing this, it’s just too much. So the only right thing to do, is end it. Once and for all.”, you told her.

Hearing this, Sherlocks heart shattered. He thought you were happy with how things were in your relationship, but apparently that was not the case. He couldn’t hear what Mary said on the other end, but he could hear very clearly that your plan was to end it tomorrow.

He couldn’t lose you. You were his everything, his reason to live. You made his life worth living and managed to break down the walls he built to protect himself. He trusted you with his life, so just thinking about you wanting to break up with him, nearly send him spiralling.

He didn’t know what to do or say so hedecided to wait until tomorrow and then beg you to not break up with him. Even if he’d have to get on his knees and beg. Alone the thought of you leaving made tears well up in his eyes.

He quickly composed himself, because he could hear you saying goodbye to your best friend. Acting like he was in his mind palace when you entered, gave him some time to think about what to say tomorrow.

“Hey Sherly”, he could hear your joyful voice call for him, but choose to ignore it, keeping up with the act. You were not happy at all with Sherlock ignoring you. After all the time you’ve spent with the consulting detective you knew when he was really in his mind palace and when he was just pretending.

With a frown on your face, you bent down to be at eye level with him. You crossed your arms and lifted an eyebrow. The moment you lifted your brow you could already hear the defeated sigh from your boyfriend.

“Hello, love”, he greeted you with a tight lipped smile. Immediately a crease started to form between your brows. “Is everything alright, honey?”, you asked him. “Yes, everything is just fine, love. I just have to.. uh.. go to a crime scene. Exactly, John called, he needs my help. Now. Don’t wait up for me.”, while explaining his not really convincing plan he put on his signature coat and his scarf.

He kissed you on the side of your head and left without another word. You could just mumble a short “take care” before you heard the door to the busy streets of London shut closed.

Not going to lie, you were worried. Why was he acting so weird all of the sudden? He seemed almost distant. Normally, when something is on the genius’ mind he talks to you. You’ve made a lot of progress since you first got together and talk about almost everything. You knew each other so well, you could always tell what’s on his mind, even if he doesn’t like to admit that. It’s his own fault, if he teaches you to deduct people. But in this case you wanted to wait until he came to you with his worries. Whatever it was it seemed to really bother your boyfriend.

Sherlock wandered around aimlessly before he returned to Baker Street. He wasn’t ready to face you just yet, so he did something he rarely did. He visited his house keeper Mrs. Hudson. He was that desperate.

He knocked twice, before the elderly woman opened the door with a surprised smile on her lips. “What do I owe the honour to, Sherlock? You never come to visit me.”, she ushered him in and set on a kettle.

“Uhm… I fear y/n wants to break up with me.”, he mumbled, not daring to look Mrs. Hudson in the eyes. “Oh, Sherlock! What makes you believe that?”, she wanted to know from the detective, that has grown into her heart and is now like a son to her. She was worried, she knew how much you meant to him.

On the other side she also knew how much you loved him and doubted that you wanted to end things. Sherlock told her what he overheard of your conversation. “But Sherlock, are you really sure that’s what she meant? Couldn’t she have been talking about her job or something?”, she wanted to know.

He just shrugged and sipped his tea.

“I think you should go and talk to her, Sherlock. Maybe it’s all just a big misunderstanding.”, she reasoned. Still unsure of himself he nodded and thanked her for the advice. “Anytime, Sherlock, anytime.”

He went back into the flat you two shared, first as flatmates and now as lovers. He couldn’t see you anywhere and softly called out your name. He went into his bedroom, which the two of you mostly share and found you underneath the blanked, hugging his pillow. The dried tears on your face made his heart shatter.

He wasn’t sure what to do, thinking he messed up. He undressed and put on his pyjamas, but instead of joining his lover in the bed, he went back to the living area and settled on the couch. It wasn’t comfortable but he couldn’t sleep anyways. At around 4 o’clock in the morning his exhaustion won and he fell into a dreamless slumber.

You woke up to an empty bed. It wasn’t something new, but you worried about your boyfriends whereabouts. A lot.

You got up and found him asleep on the couch, looking incredibly uncomfortable, his tall frame not fitting into the small space provided. You started to rub your hand up and down his arm to wake him up.

Slowly he opened his blue-green eyes and looked into your e/c eyes. He sat up, stretched and then looked at you like a kicked puppy. If you looked close enough you could even see a pout forming on his plump lips.

“Sherlock, what’s wrong?”, you asked cautiously.

After a very pregnant pause he chocked out, “Please don’t leave me. I- I- I just cant live without you, you are my everything!”

You looked at the tear that rolled down his face, taking a path over his high cheekbone to the corner of his lip, with utter shock and heartbreak.

“Oh darling, what makes you believe I want to break up with you?”, you sat down next to him, cupped his cheek and used the pad of your thumb to wipe away a new tear that threatened to roll down his face. “I love you so much, I would never leave you!”

Sherlock released a shaky breath and leaned forward, making your foreheads touch. He cupped your face and whispered with his eyes closed, “I thought you’re going to leave me. I- I was so scared I-“ “Shh, it’s alright, darling. I’m not going to leave you. You’re stuck with me now.”

The last sentence made the detective smile. You furrowed your brows. “What made you think I was going to leave you?”, you wanted to know. He looked hesitant and then admitted, “I heard you talking to Mary about how fed up you were and that you wanted to end things. I assumed that you were talking about us.” He avoided looking at your eyes.

You chuckled a bit but stopped when you saw his puzzled expression. “I want to quit my job. I’m not unhappy with us, silly, I’m unhappy with my boss and my colleagues. I haven’t told you about it because you’ve been so busy with your case.”, you reassured him, “Why did you eavesdrop on our conversation in the first place?”

“You looked worried and I wanted to be sure that I’m not the cause of it. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”, he confessed. You knew that when he dropped the words ‘I’m sorry’ he really meant it.

“It’s alright, you meant it well.”, you told him, “I wish you would have been honest with me from the beginning, but I could have asked you what’s going on when I noticed you acting weird. From now on we know better.”

“You are right. As always.”, even though he whispered the last part, you’ve still heard it.

With a soft smile you stood up, “Come on darling, let’s go to bed.”

He immediately stood up, picked you up bridal style and took you to his bedroom.

He was just glad, he still gets to call you his love.

a/n: if you liked this, please leave some notes! you can now also request fics on my page!

#love #fluff #miscommunication #sherlock holmes x reader #bbc!sherlock holmes x reader #happy ending #angst #sherlock holmes is bad with fellings #first fanfic #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock bbc #reader insert #x reader #female reader #fem reader #gender neutral reader

[love-strawberry]

we'll be alright

summary : in which they fight but there's no doubt that they'll end up alright.

pairing : sherlock holmes x reader

warnings : slight spoiler for enola holmes 2, ooc!sherlock, slight angst

author's note : so, hi!! i love you, thank you for sticking around, i love you!! <3

tagged : @0oolookitsme

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“sherlock?” 

“enola. what are you doing here?” sherlock questioned, swaying as he tried to focus on his sister. “it’s not safe. there are scary people about”

“yes, let me know when you meet one,” enola sighed, walking towards him and standing close in case he fell over. “brother, are you quite yourself?”

“i’m fine, it was just a disagreement over a glass of wine and whose wine it was,” sherlock waved her off, looking around. “there was another disagreement that i had, not here, no. at home. it quite upset me. very much, in fact.”

“you fought with y/n?” enola asked, her eyebrows raising. she absolutely adored y/n and to hear that her brother and her sister-in-law were fighting was a shock considering they were totally smitten with each other.

“i find after wine, it’s very difficult to make your arms and legs move,” sherlock completely ignored her question, swaying dangerously. enola rushed to support, a wince escaping her as sherlock leaned on her for support. “i don’t usually imbibe but i’m not a case, you see. it’s proven rather tricky”

“cab,” enola called for a carriage, walking while supporting her brother’s weight, losing her footing every once in a while during their very short walk to the side of the road.

“hello,” both the holmes’ siblings greeted the driver, moving to sit inside.

“where are we going?” sherlock asked, looking at enola for answers.

“221 baker street,” enola replied, helping him get in the cab.

the ride to 221 baker street was filled with silence, with enola occasionally trying to ask about y/n and sherlock mindless chatter about his latest case.

the pair of siblings exited the cab, paying the driver and walked to the front door. after opening it, enola stood with sherlock in front of 221a and stopped, looking at her brother for any sort of indication that he was going to open it.

“that’s a and i’m b,” sherlock mumbled, his eyes unfocused as he first pointed at the door in front of them and then at the stairs going to the upper level.

enola sighed, rolling her eyes slightly as she moved over to the staircase. she looked at the number of stairs they’d have to climb before looking at her drunk brother.

“i didn’t know you had steps,” enola mentioned, wanting nothing more than to just sleep and wake up in a week or so.

“one should always have steps to avoid people stepping on you,” sherlock said, his words slurring together as he stood there. “that’s a tip, you should probably write that down.”

“alright,” enola started as she let go of him slightly and helped him lean against the wall, “how about i go upstairs and get y/n and she can help me get you upstairs?”

“y/n?” sherlock’s attention shifted to enola, his head leaning on the wall. “i don’t know if she’ll be here.”

“why not?” enola asked, worry growing in the pit of her stomach. had the fight really been that bad?

“she was quite upset with me,” sherlock spoke, his words stringing together to a somewhat coherent sentence. “i wouldn’t be surprised if she chose to go and stay with her sister for the time being.”

“we’re not at all done with this conversation as i’m very eager to know just how you’ve messed it up with the most loving and caring woman but we do need to get you upstairs,” enola said, her tone of voice sharp as she supported sherlock and guided him towards the first step. “all right, lift your left leg.”

“enola?” a voice questioned from the top of the stairs, making both the siblings look up. “and sherlock? what happened?”

“y/n!” enola exclaimed with relief in her voice, excited to see her sister-in-law and to get some help. “could you please help me in getting your drunk husband in the apartment?”

“y/n, love,” sherlock called out but his voice was ignored by both the ladies, leaving him with a frown on his face.

“oh my, i’m so sorry,” y/n rushed down the stairs, her dress flailing behind her as she went to sherlock’s other side and supported him. “did you get him here all by yourself?”

“had to,” enola informed, climbing up one step at a time. “he was drunk and got thrown out of an establishment.”

“god,” y/n mumbled, ignoring sherlock’s attempts to talk to her. it was obvious that she was angry with him. “i’m sorry you had to see him like this, enola.”

“it’s alright,” enola replied in her cheerful voice, the one that made y/n smile at the girl. the company of three finally reached the top of the stairs and y/n opened the door. “i can hold this incident over his head for years to come. at least, until he does something else.”

“i got him from here,” y/n assured the girl, her hands going over her husband’s shoulders as she supported him. “you go, get freshened up."

“alright,” with that enola went off in the direction of the bathroom, leaving sherlock and y/n alone.

“you should sit down, sherlock,” y/n said to her husband, leading him to the couch in the corner of the room. 

“you’re right,” sherlock mumbled, tripping as he moved across the carpet. “of course you are, darling.”

sherlock sat on the couch with a grunt falling from his lips, y/n’s hand automatically going to his shoulder while the other cupped his cheek, making him look at her. when she realised what she was doing, she quickly withdrew her hands and folded them in front of her, trying to ignore the confused look on her husband's face.

“are you okay?” she questioned, keeping in mind to keep her voice low.

“yes, i’ll be up and running in no time,” sherlock assured, reaching for her hands but stopped when she made no move to take his.

“i was worried when you stormed out and didn’t come back before nightfall,” y/n admitted, her fidgeting with the numerous rings she wore, a nervous habit she had; something sherlock always picked on.

“i apologise,” sherlock whispered, burying his head in his hands, the light from the lamps making his head hurt. “for worrying you. and for other things.”

“that’s alright,” y/n replied, chuckling lightly, though it was weak and she sounded tired. “i think i'll always be worrying when it comes to you. i’ve made my peace with it.”

"you're not mad?" sherlock asked, his voice muffled.

"we'll talk later, sherlock," y/n spoke, her voice sharp as she took a deep breath. "you make it hard to be mad at you, when you're in this stage."

“i suppose i don't make it any easier," sherlock asked, a small smile on his lips though y/n couldn't see it. "being me."

"you don't," y/n looked away, choosing to look at the portraits on the wall. "but that's okay."

sherlock was about to say something else when enola's voice sounded from their bathroom.

"i better go and see what she wants," y/n spoke though she made no move to leave. a moment passed between the couple before y/n moved towards him and pushed him to lay on the couch by his shoulders. "you, rest. please."

"if i must," sherlock said, leaning into her touch and craved it when it was gone. he settled and closed his eyes. "is she to stay the night?"

"yes," y/n spoke sternly, leaving no room for argument making sherlock grumble but he didn't object; knowing it would be fruitless.

y/n moved through the living room, making her way to the bathroom and knocked twice before waiting for enola to open the door.

"a moment," enola called from the inside and half a minute later, the door was thrown open and y/n was pulled inside.

"is everything alright?" y/n questioned, looking at the teenager whose hair were down, strands falling in her face.

"could you do my hair, please?" enola questioned, a pink tint on her face. "i usually just throw them in a bun and that does the trick but i love how you do your hair and since i'm here and you're here, maybe you could do my hair?"

"of course i will!" y/n exclaimed as she pushed enola's hair out of her face. "you shouldn't ask, enola. you're like my sister. i basically raised you."

"still, i felt the need to ask," enola shrugged, handing her the brush that was on the counter and turning around.

"you shouldn't," y/n reassured her, brushing her hair softly. "i'd never refuse."

"i'm glad to hear that," enola smiled at her, looking through the mirror in front of her. "is sherlock okay?"

"he's resting," y/n mentioned, starting to braid small braids. "at least, i hope so."

"did you two have a fight?" enola questioned, no longer being able to control her curiosity.

"he told you about it?" y/n asked, mild surprise on her face but still, she smiled at the girl.

"he wasn't sure if you'd be home when we reached here," enola spoke, wincing slightly as her hair got caught in one of the many rings y/n wore, the latter apologising profusely as she untangled them. "said you might've chosen to go to your sister's house. and he also mentioned something about a disagreement at home when i first saw him outside the bar."

"oh, um, we did have a fight," y/n admitted, a small frown on her face as she recalled the harsh words that were thrown around. "but i'd never just leave."

"did he apologise?" enola questioned, admiring the braid y/n had finished. "please tell me he did."

"he did," y/n assured the younger girl. "i wouldn't be here any longer if he didn't."

"that's good," enola smiled, her fingers twirling around the braid. "you're both good then?"

"i don't think it works like that, darling," y/n spoke slowly, her eyes trained on her hair, a sad smile on her face as she refused to look at her in the mirror. "it's not just a simple 'sorry' and then everything is fine."

enola stayed silent as she thought about what y/n and finally after a couple moments, spoke. "what do you mean?"

"i mean, you can't just hurt someone and then realise that what you did was wrong. you can't apologise and expect everything to be okay, that's not how it is," y/n spoke, her voice calm and controlled but her mind was filled with the words that sherlock and her had spoken—yelled at eachother. "the person you hurt, they're not just going to forget and forgive you."

"then, what are we supposed to do?" enola spoke, her voice a whisper as she watched y/n finish off the last braid and tuck it neatly with the others. "if we apologise but they don't accept it, then what? we're supposed to keep on telling them?"

"we need to show them," y/n corrected her, turning her around to she could pin up the strands that kept getting in her eyes. "with actions, not just words. with what we do, with gestures. they need to know that we cherish them, that we're thankful that they're here, with us, they need to know that we love them and that we're sorry."

"sherlock does that?" enola asked, her eyes on her sister in law.

"he does," y/n whispered, looking down as she felt the familiar burning in her eyes and the floor became a mosaic. "he really does."

"then why are you both not okay?" enola asked, comforting y/n as she rubbed her arms.

"because i'm so worried," y/n started, her breathing heavier and her voice choked up. "i'm so worried, enola. it's starting to affect me physically. he's taking on dangerous cases everyday, the next one more dangerous than the last and he goes out without any sort of protection and i'm so scared that he's not going to come back home to me."

"he's always going to come back to you," enola spoke, her hearting hurting when she heard y/n sniffle. "he's sherlock and you're y/n. you'll always find eachother."

"last night, he didn't come home until midnight and i had stay up waiting for him because i hate it when he comes back and there's no one greeting him and he had a cut on his upper arm and i freaked out," y/n rambled, her hands clutching enola's, the latter not letting go even for a second, "and we had a small argument about him coming this late and coming home hurt when i've told him many times to take someone from scotland yard with him but it ended in a big fight and we both went to bed angry, it was the worst. in the morning, i brought it up again and he just—yelled at me and i yelled at him and he just stormed out."

"i—i don't know what to say," enola breathed out, her hands still onto y/n's. "except, let me go out there and smack some sense into him."

y/n let out a shaky laugh, letting go of enola's hand to wipe her eyes.

"letting all of that out felt good," y/n admitted, sniffling slightly, twirling enola as she looked over her hair. "i needed this, thank you, enola."

"of course, y/n," enola smiled, her eyes sparkling under the lamp in the corner of the bathroom. "thank you, for doing my hair."

"don't mention it, love," y/n waved her off, her heart feeling lighter. "the guest room is neat and clean, you should get some sleep."

"ah, yes," enola spoke, looking at herself in the mirror before smiling at y/n. "i'll see you in the morning."

"of course," y/n smiled back tiredly, her head hurting.

"good night," enola called as she walked away from the bathroom and towards the guest room, her voice drifting as the door closed.

"good night," y/n whispered, knowing that there was no way she heard her. she looked at herself in the mirror, taking note of the year stained cheeks and how anyone could tell that she had been crying. her hair was a mess, flicks restricting her view.

she sighed, before opening the faucet and washing her face, cursing at herself for not doing it earlier as it already made her head feel less heavy.

after drying her face with a cloth, she made her way to the living and spotted sherlock in the same position in which she had left him. he seemed to have fallen asleep, with how even and deep his breathing was and how he was still and peaceful. there was no furrow of his eyebrows, y/n noted as she admired him.

"sherlock?" y/n called as he leaned over him, her voice barely audible as she didn't want to startle him. "we should head to bed."

sherlock groaned as his hands covered his face, moving slightly but he made no indication of sitting up.

"sherlock, please," y/n spoke, her hand on his shoulder. "let us go to bed."

"hm?" sherlock hummed, opening his eyes a fraction before closing them.

"sit up," y/n ordered, her voice still light. sherlock pushed himself up, looking up at her with tired eyes and y/n had to resist the urge to kiss his forehead.

“come on, let’s get you in bed,” y/n spoke softly, holding onto sherlock's shoulder as he stood up. she lead him to their bedroom, his body swaying slightly at the movement, making y/n grip onto him a bit tighter.

“that sounds nice,” sherlock mumbled, his hands holding her waist as he walked into their bedroom with her support.

“it does, doesn’t it?” y/n sat him on the bed, removing his coat, tie and vest. “have some water before you fall asleep. here.”

“i’m not going to fall asleep,” sherlock huffed before drinking the water y/n from the glass on the bedside table with a small ‘thank you’, “i’m not tired.”

“sure you aren’t, love,” y/n muttered, helping him get under the covers and adjusting the pillow under his head. “do you need anything else?"

"huh?" sherlock asked, his head falling against the pillow. "no, i suppose."

"alright," y/n moved towards the dressing room to change into her night gown. "i'll be back in a minute."

y/n only got a hum from him in reply as she made her way into the small attached dressing room and changing as fast as she could into her night gown. folding the dress as neatly as she could, she opened the door to find sherlock sitting up with his back to the headboard.

"sherlock?" y/n asked, confusing evident in her voice as she made way towards him. she sat on the edge of the bed, her worries increasing as sherlock stayed silent for the better part of a minute.

"i'm sorry," sherlock spoke, his voice small as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "for yelling, for storming out, for worrying you, everything. all of it."

"it's okay, love," y/n didn't even notice the term of endearment fall from her lips. "we can talk in the morning. you need to rest."

"no, it can't wait," sherlock argued, opening his eyes and looking at her with utmost seriousness. his hands clasped hers, holding them with a firm grip. "i have only just realised how much worry i cause you."

"sher—"

"if you were out there, i don't know what i would do," sherlock continued speaking, the words falling from his lips effortlessly. "and i realise that i have been selfish, worrying my wife about my well being, coming home late and sometimes even injured."

"darling—"

"i'll work on that," sherlock nodded, not noticing y/n trying and failing to speak. "i'll talk to lestrade about getting a constable with me on dangerous cases."

"love—"

"we already went to bed angry at eachother yesterday," sherlock spoke tiredly, his eyes dropping and his grip on her hands going lax. "i didn't want you to be mad at me tonight. i love you and i'm sorry, y/n."

"i love you and i'm not mad, not anymore," y/n shook her head, smiling as she leaned over and kissed his forehead, stroking his face with her thumb. "i just worry about you, a lot."

"and from now on, i won't give you a reason to," sherlock promised, leaning into her touch.

"good," y/n dropped another kiss to his forehead, smiling when he looked up at her and leaned in to kiss her on the lips. she smiled as she met him halfway.

the kiss was messy, with y/n leaning over him and sherlock's hand supporting her. y/n's hand found the front of his shirt, pulling him even more closer while sherlock's hand circled her waist, tracing small circles on her hips as he kissed her back with fervour.

they broke apart, their breathing heavy as they smiled at eachother, hearts beating fast.

"you need to sleep, mr. holmes," y/n reminded him, pulling away from him and moving towards her side of the bed. "you're tired."

"no," sherlock denied, watching her as she got in under the cover. "maybe, yes. god, am i tired."

"told you," y/n smiled at him with satisfaction. "sleep."

sherlock watched as she leaned over her bedside table and turned off the lamp settled comfortably, shifting slightly. he waited until she was fully settled in before moving close to her.

he laid his head in the crook of her neck, his nose touching her collarbone as his breath hit the exposed part of her neck, making her shiver. her hands automatically went to his hair, running her fingers through it.

minutes passed as y/n laid in bed, staring at the ceiling and running her fingers through her husband's hair.

"sherlock?" y/n asked, her voice barely a whisper.

after hearing no answers from him, she shifted lightly to get a good look on his face and smiled as she noticed that he was fast asleep. his mouth was parted slightly and each exhale of breath made y/n shiver and get goosebumps. his grip on her was relaxed and the look on his face was so peaceful that it made y/n feel at peace.

kissing the top of head, y/n inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and sending a prayer to whatever force that made him hers.

sure, they had their disagreements, both big and small. their difference of opinion cause a rift every now and then but still, there was no doubt.

we'll be alright, she thought before falling asleep with the love of her life.

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#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes blurbs #enola holmes 2 #henry!holmes x reader #henry!sherlock #henry cavill

[howtofightwrite]

Sorry if you’ve already answered this, I’m having trouble finding different posts in your blog.

I know a lot of your asks are more practical-related, but how do you suggest fully encapsulating the horror and tragedy of war in a (fantasy) battle scene? I really need that emotional and gory impact but it also to seem reasonably realistic.

My favourite references are Battle of the Bastards in GoT and scenes from Lord of the Rings.

Thanks!!

Martin and Tolkien are not two authors I’d ever expect to find together when discussing thematic and abstract concepts like the horrors of war in their writing. One of them is extremely deep, and the other is a puddle. Neither of them are particularly “realistic” but only one of them claims that pretense while drawing from real history. If you’re wanting horrors of war, you’re much better off moving away from Martin and taking a gander at the actual War of the Roses.

Let me explain.

Tolkien served as an officer during World War I. By sheer body count, The Great War was one of the most bloody and brutal wars in human history. As a point of reference, over a million soldiers died during the Battle of Somme. Perhaps as importantly, World War I killed the cultural concept of the Summer War. Before World War I, the British upper class viewed war as a game. War was an adventure, something young men did between reaching manhood and getting married. Watson from Sherlock Holmes is an excellent example of the end result for this particular outlook. They figured they’d go off, have some jolly good fun, get a few scars, and be back in a few weeks in time for tea. What they got was a meat grinder. Two of Tolkien’s close friends died during the war. He also lived through the bombings during World War II while working as a professor at Oxford, he experienced the devastating effects that war had on the civilian population first hand, and, likely, saw a few of his students die. Despite his hatred of allegory, the man was working through some shit in The Lord of the Rings.

If you’re interested in learning more about World War I or even about effectively demonstrating the horrors of war, I do recommend reading All Quiet on the Western Front. I read it once in high school (more years ago than I’d like to admit here) and, much like Elie Wiesel, it has stuck with me. It was also such an effective anti-war novel the Nazis banned it and it was one of the first books they publicly burnt, so you know it’s good.

Back to Tolkien.

What they don’t tell you about fantasy is that it’s real life, just with elves and dwarves and magic. The real world forms the foundation of fantasy and it’s the humanity of the emotional experience in war, the good and the bad, with both ends cranked all the way to eleven that really makes Tolkien’s work so impactful. LOTR is operatic by design, but what keeps the narrative from falling into melodrama is the core thematic message underneath the pageantry. One of the major themes is hope, which gets symbolized in light, and hope’s interplay with despair, symbolized in darkness. Not just a rosy view of it either, but the genuine struggle to keep the light burning against all the overwhelming reasons to give up or give in. Tolkien allows his characters to be corrupted and redeemed, their struggle with temptation before ultimately choosing the better path or failing and falling into darkness. He commits to the idea that hope can be restored in the unlikeliest of places.

Boromir’s death is, perhaps, one of the best examples of Tolkien’s philosophy in action. Boromir is a character we’re not sure of, he wants the one ring from the outset, he’s the only one advocating that it shouldn’t be destroyed. The hearts of men are easily corrupted. When he tries to take the ring from Frodo, he falls into his worst instincts and breaks the Fellowship. But then, against the overwhelming flood of Uruk-hai, Boromir tries to save Merry and Pippin. He fights wounded, shot again, and again, until he’s felled by twenty arrows and he fails. Yet, in his failure he restores Aragorn’s hope in his people, gives him a reason to fight for Gondor, and inspires the audience to believe in Man’s potential for greatness.

Tolkien could have left Boromir in the dark, but he didn’t. He could’ve given into cynicism, but he didn’t. In every adaptation, Boromir’s death never fails to get me bawling. Boromir is both good and bad, both dark and light, his best and worst instincts are driven by the same underlying, sympathetic reason—his desire to save his people and fulfill his duty to his father.

On the whole, I find Tolkien’s presentation of the human condition and war to be more compelling and realistic than Martin’s. Tolkien’s underlying themes have more in common with All Quiet on the Western Front, Saving Private Ryan, and HBO’s Band of Brothers. For all that his characters often feel larger than life (by design, he’s telling an epic) there’s always a grounding quality that allows the audience to connect with them. Whether we agree with Tolkien’s core thematic message or not, Tolkien genuinely has something to say about warfare and its effect, both on personal and world changing levels, and he communicates that message very well.

The irony about the “horrors of war” isn’t about the horrors of war. Thematically, the “horrors of war” is about who we choose to become in the face of them when trapped in the crucible. Do we rise to our best selves? Do we fall to our worst? When every illusion about who we believe we are is stripped away, what’s left? It’s an existential question, not a “realistic” one.

You can’t write about the horrors of war in fiction if you have nothing to say about war, humanity, and its effects. All you’ll end up with is gore for shock value. The world becomes hopelessly depressing, and, in the end, all the blood turns brown before it’s finally shat out.

Hi, Martin.

Don’t get me wrong, Martin is a very skilled writer. His prose is genuinely beautiful and his first book in ASOF, A Game of Thrones is actually a pretty decent deconstruction in the traditional fantasy narrative and a fairly realistic treatment of how events would go for the standard well-meaning fantasy protagonist. And that’s… the deepest we get.

Martin comes out of the 24/Joss Whedon death for shock value school of writing and the land of Iron Age comics that doesn’t have anything to really say beyond, “people suck.” Underneath it all is a level of cynicism in the human condition that would make Garth Ennis blush. The deaths are just shock value. There’s nothing more to it than that. Once you’ve acclimated to the gore, there’s nowhere else to go and nothing else to think about. Ironically, out of his contemporaries, Robert Jordan is better at giving both war and death in his narrative lasting effect, driving character growth, and real meaning.

Martin and Tolkien are opposite ends of the spectrum in their approach to war and their outlooks are utterly incompatible. One of them is a complete cynic and the other is facing himself honestly, openly, fearlessly, and without a smidgen of irony. (The true irony here is that the latter is the Englishman.) Following Martin’s blueprint won’t bring you to a Tolkien outcome. Tolkien’s genuine emotion is the subject of mockery in Martin’s world. Season 8 may’ve been clumsy and infuriating, but it was the natural end of Comic Book Iron Age cynicism. There are no good people, people with power can never be trusted, and all heroes, no matter how noble, reveal their true colors as villains in the end. As Christopher Nolan said, “You either die a hero or live long enough to become a villain.” This philosophical outlook may be sold as realistic but it’s really just Political Both Sidesism, Fantasy Edition.

The irony is that the real history Martin draws from, The War of the Roses, is simultaneously crueler, kinder, more noble, more horrific, more impactful, and ultimately more hopeful than Martin’s own work. And this was post the Hundred Years War and all the wars that preceded it.

I bring you, the Duality of Man.

If you want to write a realistic battle scene, start with real war. If you want to write about the horrors of war, start with real war. Pick a war, any war, and dig in. Reading the experiences of others is a way to gain insight into experiences you yourself don’t share and start to process the different philosophies born out of those experiences. The horror of war is a human one.

The most important lesson is that you won’t get there by focusing on the battle itself. To truly feel the impact, every character needs to be carefully built from the very beginning with a through line to every horrific event that happens to them. If you want to learn how to do that, then you need to go study every single war movie from good to bad (including the jingoistic rah-rah ones) like Apocalypse Now, Saving Private Ryan, Battle for Iwo Jima, etc, to really start internalizing the underlying storytelling structure and character design formula that makes those films tick. There’s no one better at portraying the horror and humanity of war than the war film industry. Part of what makes the best of these films really good is their willingness to allow their characters to be emotional and vulnerable. Which you won’t find in a lot of fantasy novels that run on machismo, but is the secret sauce that gives Tolkien his impact.

Having the confidence to allow your characters to struggle, be vulnerable, experience humiliating circumstances, and appear weak is an aspect of writing that a lot of men and women struggle with. Cynicism is a form of self-protection to keep those emotions away, to keep one from being emotionally invested, and is a means by which we protect ourselves from being hurt. We may portray cynicism as the more realistic reality but it’s just a cloak we hide behind. Martin’s approach to warfare is less realistic than Tolkien’s. Tolkien’s characters approach warfare with an eye toward protecting their civilians, safeguarding their future, or, in the case of his villains, focus on genocide. War for Tolkien is the eradication of civilization and the destruction of the future. Characters from experienced combatants to innocent civilians are willing to risk their lives for a world and for the people who matter to them. Martin has the Summer War. It’s there in the title, A Game of Thrones. An entertaining charade of musical chairs. And while all of his characters are chasing power, almost none of them have any sort of vision or goal for the future beyond the accumulation of more. In Martin’s world, the only way to truly win is not to play, but in the real world playing is the only way to create the world you want. Cynicism ends with no seats at the table and no means to change or save anything.

It’s funny because England during the War of the Roses had been in a state of near constant warfare for hundreds of years with their own domestic powers and France prior to the War of the Roses kicking off. The concept of a Summer War didn’t really exist for the medieval nobility. Much as we joke today about war being a game for medieval nobles due to their ransom protections, it really wasn’t. The peasantry was also much, much more dangerous en masse than they are in ASOF. They drove traveling monarchs to hide in monasteries plenty of times and, while that’s funny, it’s not actually a joke.

Now, picture Joffrey dragged off his horse in the middle of a riot and having his skull crushed by a local fishwife right before being trampled into a bloody, unrecognizable pulp by sharp hooves.

Or enjoying the Agincourt bathing route.

You’re welcome.

-Michi

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#how to fight write #Michi answers #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips

[tommiruewrites]

Hi! I would like to request a Tewksbury x fem’Reader (romantic)! Reader is Enola Holmes’ sister

So basically, I was hoping for this to take place in Enola Holmes 2 in the theater fight scene. If you remember, Enola almost gets stabbed, but her corset protected her. So what if it was reader instead, and the corset didn’t protect her? Reader does finish the fight like in the movie because she’s just a girlboss like that and has that whole moment with Tewksbury after, but the stab wound finally takes its toll. That’s sort of just the base of the idea, you can do whatever you come up with after that! I sort of think of this as an angst + fluff? Thank you!

Just a Little Longer - V.T.

word count: 1.2k

requested: yes | no requests: open | closed request rules here

warnings: fem!reader, fluff to angst (but mostly angst bc i love to make myself miserable but in a cute poetic way), brief mentions of fighting, talk of blood, major injury, main character death, best friends to lovers/idiots in love, tragedy, holmes!reader, NOT PROOFREAD

a/n: i'm SOOOO sorry, ik it's been ages since you put in this ask, but my adhd slump was a pain in my ass. it has finally been forcibly lifted (by yours truly) bc i want to write again, and i found the start of this fic in my drafts and decided to finish it. i hope you're still active and able to read this, lovely anon! <3

remember to like, comment, and reblog to support my writing <3

part 2

· • —– ٠ ☆ ٠ —– • · • —– ٠ ☆ ٠ —– • · • —– ٠ ☆ ٠ —– • ·

Everything went by in a blur. You were fighting alongside Tewkesbury and Enola, dodging weapons and fists. The next thing you know, you’re on the floor, wind knocked out of you.

A loud crack rings out and you feel an intense pounding in your head, so you guess you must have hit it when you fell back. As you begin to stand, you feel a dull ache in your ribs. You look down to see the cause, and you thank the heavens that you’re wearing one of those god-awful corsets you've always hated so much. Shouldn’t leave more than a nasty bruise.

You hear Tewksbury —who’s still fighting from across the room— call out your name to make sure you’re alright, but you don’t have time to respond. Your sister reaches a hand out to help you up off the floor as she dodges a hit. A bit preoccupied in a fight of her own she misses the silver handle sticking out of your corset.

“Are you alright?” she screams over the chaos.

You stand firm on your feet, still staring down your opponent. “Fine. Just a little fall, nothing I can’t handle.” Pulling the blade from your abdomen, you miss the red glint of blood as you resume the fight.

———————

The battle is over, and the energy is high. You and Tewkesbury bounce off the walls blabbering on about the recent events, adrenaline running through you while Enola concludes the investigation with your brother, Sherlock.

“Did you see me! I got some really good ones in there. Think I got him in the nose!”

You laugh, breath like shard of glass in your lungs from the cold, "You were wonderful! Just like I showed you."

He beams at that, his cheeks glowing a warm pink, which he hopes could be chalked up to the biting chill outside, “You didn’t do so bad out there yourself.”

“Not bad?” you scoff, "You must have missed the look on that guy’s face when I threw him across the room!"

You both laugh softly, your breath visible in the winter air. You ignore the tight feeling in your lungs.

Suddenly you’re both hyper aware of the lack of space between you. Looking between his cold pink lips and his glassy doe eyes, you hold your breath as he begins to lean closer.

Just as you feel his intoxicating lips graze yours, your knees buckle beneath you. You try to steady yourself against Tewksbury, hand pressed against his chest, as he quickly grabs your waist to hold you up. He chuckles a bit as he tries to help you regain your footing, but immediately stops when notices that you’re practically limp in his hold.

“What's wrong? Talk to me.”

It feels like your chest is collapsing in on itself, and your head starts to spin. “Oh- I’m fine. Just cold.” Mostly reassuring yourself, nothing bad could happen right? You won after all. You beat them. Your family is safe and your best friend that you've been in love with for years is finally kissing you. Those are all good things. Really good things. So it's just the cold making you feel weak and breathless, right?

“I’m just really, really tired.”

Just as you begin to stand up straighter, sharp pain shoots through your stomach and your knees buckle again, causing Tewkesbury to almost fall over. He panics when he hears a gasp that sounds too much like you’re in pain.

“Enola! Something’s wrong!”

Enola and Sherlock stop their current debate and immediately notice your uncharacteristically frail state, rushing over to help Tewkesbury get you on the ground. They sit you down as quickly as possible without hurting you, your back to Tewksbury’s chest so he can keep you stable. His shaky hand tremble against your hips as he surveys your body for injuries. Enola kneels to be eye-level with you, “What's going on? Are you hurt?”

"No-" You nod your head, "I'm fine, I just-" you cut yourself short, unable to create a more convincing reply as a groan of pain rips through you. Thats when Enola notices a deep tear in your dress.

“Her corset. Take off her corset!”

Enola and Sherlock work to quickly remove the thick article of clothing, Tewksbury squeezing your hand reassuringly when you wince at the movement of him lifting your arms. Once the corset is successfully removed, a deep cut reveals itself, crimson red seeping through your under-dress. "Oh my god-"

You look up, the concern in Tewkesbury’s voice making you nervous. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

Enola grabs your focus when she presses her hands against your wound.

"Oh..."

Sherlock frantically removes his coat to tie around you and try to stop the bleeding. “Nothing's wrong. Nothing at all. You’re going to be just fine.” He rambles out, trying to calm both you and himself.

In your hazy state you can't fully sense the anxiety all around you, or how serious your injury truly is. You only register one thing. You’re going to be just fine. Your brother would never lie to you. Not ever.

Your breathing begins to slow as you relax, leaning your head back against Tewkesbury's shoulder. You begin to feel your own shoulder dampen. Looking over at the cause, you see Tewksbury’s face tacked with glistening streaks down his cheeks, staring at Enola and Sherlock frantically try to stop the bleeding as he helps where he can.

“Tewks?” His eyes jump to yours, sniffling. “What's the matter? Why are you crying?”

Much to your dismay, that makes him cry harder. "Nothing’s the matter."

You reach a weak hand up to wipe tears from his cheek as more roll down in their place. “Then why are you crying?”

There’s a long pause, your sibling’s desperate shouting falling deaf on your ears as a faint ringing replaces it. "I’m just so proud of you is all."

You smile at that, "I'm proud of you too, fighter." You tease. He chuckles weakly, not surprised that your wit is still intact even as you're bleeding out. Your eyes begin to feel heavy as you stare into his, eyelids fluttering open and closed.

“Hey! Hey, keep your eyes open for me. Just a little bit longer.” He stammers, squeezing your hand to keep you awake. "We just need a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes, and then you can rest, alright?"

You groan in discomfort, feeling all of your energy go into the one simple task as your body begins to feel floaty and numb. “Tired.”

“I know, I know. Just a little longer. I promise everything will be fine. I promise. Just please, don’t close your eyes.” He sobs out desperately, interlacing his fingers with yours.

Enola and Sherlock keep trying everything in their power to stop the bleeding, sobbing and begging for anything to work. For you to be okay. You try your best to keep your eyes open for them, you really do, but it’s just too difficult. You can hear distant shouts of your name as you finally let the peaceful darkness consume you.

#enola holmes 2 #enola holmes masterlist #enola holmes #enola 2 #enola and sherlock #tewksbury blurb #tewksbury x reader #lord tewksbury #viscount tewksbury #tewkesbury #tewkesbury imagine #viscount tewkesbury marquess of basilwether #tewkesbury fluff #viscount tewkesbury #lord tewkesbury #tewkesbury x reader #tewksbury fluff #tewksbury angst #tewkesbury angst #louis patridge #enola holmes fic #tewksbury fic #tewkesbury fic

[lykaonimagines]

Mistletoe - Sherlock x Reader

Meant to have this up by Christmas, but I still wanted to put it up :) Might have rushed the ending a bit, but hopefully you all like it ^_^

Paring: Sherlock Holmes (BBC) x Detective F!Reader

Word Count: 2,486

Description: When an argument finds Sherlock and Y/N under a mistletoe together in the center of Scotland Yard, Y/N uses the moment to spite Anderson... and maybe for some other reasons too. 

Other Things: Establishing relationship. Embarrassed Sherlock. Mistletoe making them realize feelings trope. I just don’t like Anderson 🤷🏻‍♀️

Warnings: Some swearing. Suggestive. Making out and flirting, but not particularly NSFW.

Masterlist

“Sherlock you know we need a full write up of the case,” Lestrade sighs as he walks through the precinct with Sherlock, Y/N, and John at his heels. 

“I fail to see why John or I need to be here while you write up a report Gram,” he pouts, crossing his arms as they walk.

“You were part of solving the case, we need your side of it. As I’ve told you a thousand times before.”

“I’m sure Y/N could adequately give you that information, she was beside me nearly the entire time. Frankly she’s the only one that kept up this time, and this is the job she’s paid to do in this building. Our presence is entirely unneeded.” 

“Runs around behind you for three days straight and you want to abandon me to paperwork at the first opportunity,” Y/N teases, lightly elbowing the detective. “I see how it is.” 

“Oh, and how is it Detective Y/L/N?” He counters, turning toward her as he lets John pass them both. “Do I have to hold your hand for the paperwork as well?”

“Yes, just like how I held your hand when you nearly fell off that rooftop.” 

Sherlock’s mouth opens then snaps shut quickly, a frown pulling at his lips. “If it was such an inconvenience you could have let me fall.” 

Looking over at the brooding detective, Y/N loops her arm through his and pulls him closer, “I would think we’ve worked together long enough now Sherlock, that you know I’d never let something like that happen to you if I could do something to stop it. And not just because I generally try to protect people if I can in this job.” 

“Oh, then why me specifically?” He challenges, bringing the two to a halt. 

“Well I-” she begins before being interrupted by Lestrade’s voice. 

“Looks like we got two under the mistletoe over here!” He shouts loud enough for all the offices and desks to hear. 

Y/N and Sherlock freeze as all eyes turn toward them, her arm dropping from his as they both glance up to see the festive plant hanging over their heads. 

Their gazes both drop slowly from the offending plant to one another, Sherlock’s eyes suddenly wide with fear. 

“Greg don’t make her kiss the freak, whatever punishable offense she’s committed isn’t that bad. Firing her would be kinder,” Anderson says with a smug smile from his desk. 

Sherlock’s face contorts briefly before looking to the floor at the comment, his usual snarky reply strangely absent.

“Sherlock?” She whispers, he glances up at her quickly, an unfamiliar emotion in his eyes that he seemingly tries to push away. 

Setting her jaw sternly, she glances at Anderson with a scowl before grabbing ahold of Sherlock’s lapels.

“Y/N-” he begins before her lips press firmly to his own. 

A sound of surprise escapes his throat as her lips move on his, his own tightening beneath hers a second later. His hands drift up to her cup her jaw as she opens her mouth to his. 

As his tongue touches hers, their moment frozen in time shatters, breaking apart immediately as whistles and catcalls finally reach their ears. 

Flushed red up his neck and cheeks, his lips wet and already slightly swollen from her unexpected onslaught, Sherlock stares back at her with a look of surprise and embarrassment. 

“Alright?” She asks quietly under her breath, smoothing his lapels back down under her hands. 

“I believe so,” he responds equally as quiet, his eyes searching her intently. “Possibly.”

“Is everything… ok here?” John asks as he approaches the two, his eyes flickering between them. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Sherlock snaps back, turning his face away from John. 

“Just give us a minute,” Y/N reaches for Sherlock’s sleeve and pulls him quickly behind her toward the break room. 

Pulling the door open, she sighs in relief to find it empty. Tugging him in behind her, she drops her hold on him as the door shuts behind them. 

They both steal glances at one another, the drip of the coffee machine the only sound in the room. 

Taking a step back, Y/N crosses the room and tears open the fridge, snatching a water bottle from the bottom. She tosses it to Sherlock as she walks back.

“And this is for…?” He questions. 

“You’re dehydrated, clearly haven’t been drinking enough while we’ve been on the case,” she shrugs and nods toward it. “Drink up.”

“You’ve deduced that have you?” He asks with a raised brow, opening the bottle and taking a long drink. 

“Your tongue was in my mouth, I didn’t have to deduce anything,” she grins, bursting into laughter as he momentarily chokes on the water and glares at her. 

“Was that necessary?” 

“It was rather funny.” 

“Yes, well,” he glares at her and sets the bottle down on the nearby counter. “If we’ve just come here so you can inform me you disliked it and clarify that it only happened to spite Anderson, you can save your words, it’s obvious.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you be wrong twice in one sentence actually.”

Sherlock’s brow furrows and he crosses his arms tightly around himself, “Explain.”

Suddenly finding interest in her fingers, Y/N looks down as heat pools in her cheeks, “I’m sorry. I’m nervous and I’m making a mess of this. I meant while annoying Anderson was the reason it happened so quickly, it wasn’t the only reason I did it. And I most certainly didn’t dislike it. Pretty far from that actually.” 

Looking up at him, he tilts his head and she continues, “I also wanted to apologize for not asking first. His comment about you set me off, and I just went for it.”

“You didn’t just kiss me to spite him?” He asks incredulously. “You mean to say… that you…” 

“Wanted to kiss you? Yes,” She finishes as he stares at her and blinks rapidly. “I know. I’ve heard you’re married to your work and don’t do that sort of thing. But I think you deserve the truth after that at least. Lestrade has known for awhile, he teases me about it. Probably why this happened at all today.”

“You’re part of my work,” he finally says sharply, visibly cringing at his own words. “That is to say… my work is not in the way of… more.” 

“You would want that?” She asks in surprise, her own eyes widening. 

“I… enjoyed the kiss,” he admits. “I wanted it to happen.”

Stepping in closer to him, Y/N carefully takes Sherlock’s hands in her own, “So you’d be amenable to doing that more often then?”

“I’d be amenable,” he says softly, his eyelids lowering as he ducks his head down. “Very amenable indeed.”

“Good,” she barely whispers over his lips before sealing them together. 

His hands drop from hers, finding her hips and pulling her in closer as his lips move eagerly against her own. 

Pulling her lower lip into his mouth, nibbling at her lip before soothing it with his tongue. She groans lowly into his mouth, her arms wrapping firmly around his neck. 

His hands shift to the back of her thighs, encouraging her to jump up and wrap her legs around his waist. 

Her lips break from his, trailing sloppy kisses from the edge of his mouth along his jaw.

A low growl rumbles in his chest against her as her lips reach just below his ear and sucks at the skin there. Maneuvering them around, he presses her back into the nearby wall and adjusts his hands to firmly grip her behind. 

Y/N’s fingers tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck, lifting her lips from his skin and chuckling as she looks at the reddening skin. 

“Just marked me have you?” Sherlock asks with amusement. 

“Mhm, maybe got ahead of myself there. I’ve wanted to get my mouth on your neck longer than is decent to admit,” she grins and leans her head back to see his face.

“I’m learning all sorts of things about you today aren’t I Detective Y/N?” He grins back at her almost shyly. 

“I suppose you are,” she shrugs and presses her forehead to his. “I would like some clarification from your side though.”

“You need clarification?” His brow raises. “I’ve currently got my hands on your arse, and you’ve got your legs around my waist. I think there’s little room for interpretation.”

“Well I meant, what did you mean by wanting more? Are you just wanting a friend with benefits, or something more committed.”

His brow quickly furrows at the question, his head tilting as he studies her, “I can’t pursue this if you aren’t mine, only mine. If you don’t want to commit to me-”

“Good,” she says interrupting him and pressing a brief kiss to his lips. “I didn’t want to assume. I’m perfectly happy committing to this with you. I had thought you would be the one to not want that kind of commitment.” 

“I don’t have much experience in that realm. And I suspect it’s going to be intense once I allow it all out,” he warns. 

“Well we’ll figure it all out together. I want this Sherlock, with you.”

Sherlock leans his head forward, briefly burying his face against her neck and exhaling contentedly. “Plan to be spending far more time on Baker Street.”

“Of course,” she replies, running one of her hands through his hair. “We should get back though, I’m still technically working.”

“You’ve been working nearly three days straight, your shift is over,” he grumbles against her skin. 

“Well it is, once we finish that paperwork you were going to abandon me for,” she teases lightly. 

Groaning unhappily, Sherlock pulls his face back and lets Y/N down to her feet, “Fine I’ll assist you. But only so you can leave faster. I’ve got a shower, clothes you can borrow, and Chinese takeout nearby the flat, so there should be no issue with you just coming straight back home with us.”

“Oh really, that’s what I’m doing?” She questions with a playful smirk. 

“You can’t expect me to be perfectly fine with us going to our respective home after just these ten minutes, now that we’ve gotten to this point,” he pouts and crosses his arms. 

“Good point. Though I’ve never seen you in anything but a suit, do you own other clothing I can wear? Otherwise I do have to drop by my flat first.”

Rolling his eyes, he reaches out to lightly grip her chin, “Do you think I sleep in suits?”

“Hmm,” she hums and looks up at him. “Admittedly most of my thoughts of you in bed haven’t involved clothing…”

Sherlock’s face flushes again and he presses his thumb to her lower lip, “I’ve gotten myself a handful haven’t I?”

“I think that would be true both directions,” she adds.

“That would be a fair deduction,” he agrees releasing his hold on her and offering his hand. “Let’s go get the paperwork settled then? The sooner we can leave the better.”

Her hand slips into his, a half smile on his lips as they exit the break room and head back toward where they had left John and Lestrade. 

“£20 on that they’ve all achieved fuck-all in that time and have been standing around gossiping like school children,” Y/N jokes, smiling at the near snort that leaves Sherlock. 

“I don’t bet against the obvious dear,” he remarks as they turn the corner and find themselves the center of attention once again. 

Standing up straighter, Sherlock ignores them and pulls Y/N along with him toward Lestrade’s office. However, just as they reach the doorway, he pauses. 

Taking a step back he whistles, “Anderson!”

The man in question looks up in disdain.

Sherlock turns his head sharply making the now bright red patch just below his ear deliberately obvious and winks smugly, firmly gripping Y/N’s hand and heading into the office. 

“Was that entirely necessary?” She chuckles, glancing at his self-satisfied expression.

“Entirely. For several reasons. The most important being he still had hopes you’d be his next free weekend affair.”

“He WHAT?” She shouts her lip pulling up in disgust. “I’d never in a thousand years, what the fuck.”

“I’d told him before you would be appalled by the idea, he called it jealousy and that I needed to ‘butt out.’ Not entirely inaccurate. Had he managed it, I’d have told his wife myself out of spite.”

“Surely you knew the possibility was zero,” she says with a raised eyebrow. “Even if you didn’t realize my feelings for you. Me being interested in Anderson? A married man and an asshole. What a catch.” 

“Are you two about done?” Lestrade calls out from his desk, motioning to the empty chairs beside a very smug looking John. 

“Good news I’d presume?” John asks as the two of them take their seats. 

Sherlock rolls his eyes and reaches over to lay his hand on Y/N’s knee, “Let’s just get this over with so we can all go home.”

“In a hurry to go somewhere?” Lestrade asks with a grin. “Any reason why?”

“Not at all Deputy Inspector.”

“Well if that’s the case, maybe you can stay and help with-” Lestrade starts before Sherlock cuts him off.

“The perpetrator was the affair partner of the wife. The wife was part of the plot, for life insurance money so her and the affair partner could leave the country with the money. She however put in her notice to leave her job prior to her husband’s death, he bought the poison through the city’s homeless network, left his finger prints on the victim’s mug. We found crumpled love letters in his trash, incriminating texts in their exchange. He informed his family he’d soon be moving abroad after he ‘took care of a problem’,” Sherlock rattles off and stands up quickly from his seat, grabbing Y/N’s hand to pull her from her seat. “I think we’re done here. John can fill in anything we may have missed, he took notes. Good day Deputy Inspector.” 

Giving an apologetic smile to her boss as she’s pulled from the office, Lestrade sighs and shakes his head with a slight smile and waves them off. 

“Off to Baker Street are we?” She asks with a laugh as he navigates them through the precinct and out the entrance into the frosty night air. 

“Precisely,” he grins and pulls her in closer to wrap his arm around her shoulders. “We need time to properly bond, I don’t plan on letting go of you for some time.”

“Is that right?” She teases and slips her arm under his coat to wrap around his waist. “Sounds like a good plan to me.” 

 ----

Sherlock Taglist: @stephenstrangeaddictions  @strangeions  @asgardianprincess1050  @rbymoon  @elisa20beth  @black-and-white1  @gaitwae @azu21 @mirikusashes @bubsonnobx @yuu-chan-is-still-a-student12 @catsr0pia @strangelockd @lokidokieokie @icytrickster17 @celilice1​ @callsign-sunshine @hollieclare

If you want to be tagged in any future Sherlock stuff (or Doctor Strange) let me know or fill out the taglist form on my pinned channel navigation/masterlist. 💙

#Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock #sherlock BBC #sherlock x reader #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock imagine #benedict cumberbatch #fanfiction

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

SHERLOCK MASTERLIST

*DISCLAIMER: SOME STORIES MAY BE TAGGED FOR WRONG DEMOGRAPHIC (ie, Not GN, male or fem) IF SO, PLEASE POLITELTY INFORM ME SO I CAN FIX IT

SHERLOCK HOLMES

Testing His Deductions (Sherlock X Fem!Reader)

High Pitched (Sherlock X Fem!Reader)

Saturn (Sherlock X Fem!Reader)

Why Not? (Sherlock X Fem!Reader) Pt 1/ Pt 2

Fell In Love (Sherlock X Fem!Reader) Pt1 Pt2

I'm Looking Right At Him (Sherlock X Fem!Reader) Pt 1/ Pt 2

My Own Personal Hero (Sherlock X Fem!Reader)

Deaf (Sherlock X Fem!Reader)

John's Little Sister (Sherlock X Fem!Reader)

We're Married (Sherlock X Wife!Reader)

Arms (Sherlock X Reader)

Low Risk (Sherlock X Teen!Reader)

Old Actions (Sherlock X Teen!Reader)

Bad Day (Sherlock X Teen!Fem!Reader)

Who's Getting Together (Greaser!Sherlock X Fem!Greaser!Reader)

Deducing A Deducer (Sherlock X Teen!Reader)

Past Resemblance (Sherlock X Teen!Reader) *TW

Uncle Locky (Sherlock X Niece!Reader)

Not Feeling Loved (Sherlock X Daughter!Reader)

Binder (Sherlock X Trans!Son!Reader)

Favourite Big Brother! (Sherlock X Baby!Brother!Reader)

MYCROFT HOLMES

A Friend In Need (Mycroft X Fem!Reader) *TW

Dirty Little Secret (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

Baby Sitter (Teen!Mycroft X Teen!Fem!Reader)

Falling In Love (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

You Love Me? (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

A Little Us (Mycroft X Wife!Reader)

Long Lasting Crush (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

Upstairs Neighbour (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

He Seems Nice (Moriarty X Fem!Reader)

Monsieur (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

You'll Be Alright (Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

Secret Relationship (Mycroft X Moriarty!Fem!Reader)

Baby Holmes (Mycroft X Pregnant!Reader)

Personal Case (Mycroft X Reader)

I'll Be Your First (Mycroft X Reader)

Mycroft? (Mycroft X Reader)

Your First Time With Mycroft Holmes Would Include...

A Need For Attention (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader) Pt 1/ Pt 2

Honesty And Truth (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader)

Walk Away (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader)

Tattooed Skin (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader)

Still Proud (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader)

Tea Party (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader)

Affection (Mycroft X Daughter!Reader)

Babysitting (Child Mycroft X Baby!Reader)

JOHN WATSON

Mental Scars (John X Fem!Reader)

MORIARTY

Keep Her Safe (James Moriarty X Fem!Reader)

Unknowing Pawn (Moriarty X Holmes!Reader)

Based On Lies (Moriarty X Fem!Reader)

Expensive Flowers (Moriarty X Fem!Reader)

The Normal One (Moriarty X Holmes!Reader)

Sebby's Sister (Moriarty X Fem!Reader)

Excuse Me? (Moriarty X Fem!Reader)

Read You Like A Book (Moriarty X Reader)

Seven Nation Army (Mycroft X Reader)

View (Moriarty X Teen!Reader)

Moriarty Helping His Sister Through An Abusive Relationship Would -Include...

Moriarty Dating A Hobby Artist With Anger Issues Would Include...

Wanting Normalcy (Moriarty X Teen!Fem!Reader)

MULTIPLE

You Made Her Cry (John Watson X Sister Reader, Mycroft X Fem!Reader)

Her Revenge (Sherlock X Fem!Reader X Moriarty)

The Dress (Sherlock X Sister!Reader X Mycroft)

Like Her (Sherlock & Mycroft X Sister!Reader)

Newbie (Sherlock, John & Lestrade X Fem!Reader)

Fitting In With The Weirdos (Sherlock, Mycroft & John X Fem!Reader)

Drama Queens (Sherlock X Reader X Mycroft)

Not Part Of The Plan (Moriarty X Holmes!Sister!Reader X Moran)

Comparisons (Mycroft X Fem!Reader X Sherlock)

OTHER

Overprotective (Molly X Sister!Reader)

Happy Anniversary (Molly X Fem!Reader)

Spotting The Odd (Eurus Holmes X Teen!Fem!Reader)

Bonding Time (Eurus Holmes X Reader)

The Flirting Game (Lestrade X Fem!Reader)

#Sherlock #sherlock holmes #mycroft holmes #john watson

[eirinstiva]

The Man with the Watches

Five years after the supposed death of Sherlock Holmes at the Reichenbach Falls, this story featuring a quote from an un-named criminal investigator appeared in the Strand Magazine. Could this person have been Sherlock Holmes? You may decide for yourself…

New letter from my dear friend Watson and... surprise! It's "The Story of the Man with the Watches", part of Round The Fire series. This is the third time I read this story and always lefts my heart aching.

This start with a very tall man and a woman who looked like father and daughter. They arrived at the station and refused to share a smoking compartment with a very surprised man.

[Illustration by Frank Craig in The Strand Magazine (1898)]

The train stops briefly at Willesden at 5:12pm, and then again at Rugby at 6:50pm where the open door of a first-class carriage attracts notice. The three passengers have now vanished, and in their carriage is the body of a young man who has been shot through the heart. There is no clue to his identity but, oddly, he is in possession of six valuable gold watches, all of American manufacture…

[llustration by Manuel Orazi in Du mystérieux au tragique (1911)]

Mystery murders on trains are a classic trope, probably the most famous is Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie. Similar cases can be found in Detective Conan and Moriarty the Patriot. There's a reference too in Ron Kamonohashi's: Forbidden Deductions opening:

What makes this story peculiar is the subtext in the relationship between Sparrow MacCoy and Edward. There's an older and captivating criminal with a younger man crossdressing doing crimes in different cities. His brother James tried to get Edward back in "the right way", but everything ended with the tragic death of Edward in the train. MacCoy is shown as a ruthless criminal, expert card-sharper and very bad influence for young Edward, but after the murder we see a sensible side of MacCoy, who takes care of James after they fell from the train.

[Illustration by Frank Craig in The Strand Magazine (1898)]

Maybe Arthur Conan Doyle wasn't a writer of queer stories, but this one follows the typical "gay tragedy" trope that it was pretty common until last years. As Graham Robb said in Strangers: Homosexual Love in the Nineteeth Century:

"Gay tragedy is a tradition, not just a circumstantial feature. This is one of the clearest signs that 19th-century gay literature was not a parasitic sub-section of 'serious' literature. It had a discret life on its own and was far more influential that it seems."

Also: who is this "well-known criminal investigator"? Sherlock Holmes? He was in some part of the world dismantling Moriarty's criminal organisation. Mycroft Holmes? Maybe Watson trying to follow Sherlock's style, or Lestrade... This is a new case to solve. ✨

#letters from watson #the man with the watches #literature #graham robb #illustrations #arthur conan doyle #manuel orazi #frank craig #letters in the underground

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 3) Chapter Sixteen

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter Sixteen: Near-Death Imaginings

Summary: (Y/N) attempts to stay alive in their mind palace.

            “You need to stay alive.”

            (Y/N) lay on their back. The skies above them were stormy and grey. The grass around them was damp as rain began to fall. They blinked and tried to focus.

            Sherlock—(Y/N)’s interpretation of him in their mind—leaned over. “Good. You landed on your back. Gravity and the bullet with control the blood loss.”

            “That’s what’s going to kill me,” murmured (Y/N).

            “Yes,” said Sherlock. “But you fell.”

            “I did it right,” said (Y/N). The storm clouds flashed with lightning, a warning. “What’s…happening now?”

            Sherlock knelt beside them. “You’re going into shock. That’s the next thing that’s going to kill you.”

            “What do I do?” asked (Y/N) as he supported them to stand.

            “You have to stop yourself. You can’t go into shock. Being unconscious is bad enough. You need to calm down,” said Sherlock.

            “How?” said (Y/N). “I can’t—I can’t regulate my emotions.”

            “Find a memory,” said Sherlock.

            (Y/N) stumbled towards the plants around them. Memories, memories, memories. I need something to calm me down. The vines reached out and pulled them into their memories.

l

Years ago…

            “Welcome, (Y/N). I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time here.” A smiling face, too wide. Even young (Y/N) had known when the adults were lying.

            Not that one.

            Arriving at the home wasn’t a pleasant memory. It was so soon after their mother’s death. It was lonely. It didn’t have Sherlock.

            Sherlock.

            The memories fast forwarded, running through all the loneliness and discomfort around people unwilling to understand them or let them be themself. It was exhausting and stressful to see.

            It all slowed down, and (Y/N) stood inside 221B.

            “This is my flat,” said Sherlock. “There’s a room for you to the right, and the kitchen is to the left. Don’t take anything out of the refrigerator or freezer. I’m running experiments.”

            (Y/N) nodded and looked around, holding the trash bag with their few belongings to their chest. Their first time in 221B. The first moment with Sherlock. The first moment they felt accepted. Sherlock treated them like another person instead of a strange creature or freak.

            (Y/N) walked to their room and put down their bag. They unpacked the clothes and went back down to the main room.

            “You’re done,” observed Sherlock, sitting in his armchair.

            (Y/N) nodded.

            “Good. We have work to do,” said Sherlock. “I have a case to get to.”

            “You’re bringing me?” asked (Y/N), but their present self knew the answer.

            “Obviously. It would be a waste to leave your mind bored,” said Sherlock. “You have a lot of potential.”

            (Y/N) straightened at the compliment. No one had ever thought of them as anything more than a bother, an emotionless kid who couldn’t connect with people.

            “Are you coming?” said Sherlock, standing and pulling on his coat.

            “Right,” said (Y/N), and they followed him out. The London chill hit them, and Sherlock glanced down.

            “We’ll need to get you a coat,” said Sherlock.

            “It’s alright,” said (Y/N), not wanting to be a trouble.

            Sherlock raised an eyebrow and just pulled off his scarf. He threw it over (Y/N)’s head to protect their neck from the cold. They blinked in surprise.

            “There,” said Sherlock, turning away.

            (Y/N) watched him before touching the scarf, smiling, and following him.

            (Y/N)’s present-day self let out a breath. They were calm. The first time they had felt accepted—their first moment in 221B—that was what they needed to fight off the shock of getting shot. After all, Sherlock had saved them and given them a home. That was what they were fighting to stay alive for.

            Pain shot through their stomach, and (Y/N) doubled over.

l

            The memory faded away, and (Y/N) fell to their knees in the grass of their Mind Palace again.

            “Without the shock, you’re going to feel pain,” said Sherlock, crouching next to them.

            “Right,” said (Y/N), grimacing.

            “You need to control the pain,” said Sherlock.

            “I need to control the pain,” repeated (Y/N), but the sensation was too much. It rose up like a tidal wave. “I need to control—”

            The ground opened up beneath them, and like Alice, (Y/N) fell to a wonderland nightmare of pain.

            They landed on rough stone. The cave around them was cold and dark, and the pain in their stomach was too much. They rolled over and curled in on themself, groaning.

            “You’re weak.”

            (Y/N)’s blood chilled as a familiar face stepped into their view.

            Moriarty smirked down at them and crouched by their head. “Pathetic. You can’t control your pain at all.”

            “I should’ve…made you feel pain,” spat (Y/N) through their agony.

            Moriarty grinned widely. “I’m dead. I can’t feel anything.” He patted their head, and (Y/N) shivered. “Don’t worry. You’ll be dead. Pain. Heartbreak. Loss. No more. Just death.”

            (Y/N) coughed, and the cave crowded in around them as their energy abated.

            Moriarty laughed. “It’s raining, it’s pouring, (Y/N) is boring!” he sang. “I’m laughing, I’m crying, (Y/N) is dying.” He leaned over (Y/N). “Just die, (Y/N). Just give up. It’s so easy, and your life is oh-so-hard,” he pouted.

            “I can’t…not when…family…danger.” (Y/N) blinked, trying to stay aware of their own mind.

            “Oh, right, right. The dear doctor, his wife, the Iceman, the inspector, the housekeeper, and lovely little Sherlock himself,” jeered Moriarty. “It’s so hilarious I might laugh myself to death again! You pathetically dying while danger eats the rest of them right up!”

            (Y/N) blinked, and their vision focused. Sherlock, John, Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, even Mary—(Y/N) couldn’t let any of them get hurt. Especially not if it was what Moriarty would want. (Y/N) had to keep fighting.

            “I don’t care how hard it is,” said (Y/N), turning and pressing their palms to the ground. “I have to…survive.”

            Moriarty raised a brow. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to live.”

            (Y/N) pushed themself to their knees. “It’s my life.”

            “Oh, god, making speeches now? Pathetic,” said Moriarty.

            (Y/N) pushed themself to their feet and glared at Moriarty. “Yeah, well, it’s my mind.”

            Vines erupted from the ground and pulled Moriarty down with them. The cave around (Y/N) opened up to the blue sky.

            “And dying or not, I rule here.”

l

            (Y/N) heard the beep of the heart monitor before their eyes opened. They coughed and blinked.

            “(Y/N),” breathed a relieved voice. Sherlock appeared at their side, gazing at them in worry.

            “Dad,” said (Y/N), voice croaking with the effort of speaking.

            “Here, here’s water,” said Sherlock, holding out a glass he had held ready for them.

            (Y/N) took a drink. “How long…how long has it been?”

            “A day,” said Sherlock. “I’ve been here the entire time.”

            “Thank you,” said (Y/N). “I needed you.”

            Sherlock reached out and squeezed their shoulder. “I thought I was going to lose you. It took everything in me to stay here and not…handle who caused this.”

            (Y/N) sat up and instantly winced. Sherlock supported them carefully.

            “It’s not Mary’s fault,” said (Y/N). “It seems it was Magnussen’s.”

            “She shot you,” said Sherlock. He was furious. His kid had almost died, and it was Mary’s fault. He wouldn’t forgive her so easily. Even if Magnussen had something on her—obvious enough now—he couldn’t just let Mary off the hook.

            “She was aiming for a non-vital spot on you,” said (Y/N).

            Sherlock frowned. That was true, but that wouldn’t get rid of his anger. “But she got you hurt.”

            “I know, but I decided to push you out of the way,” said (Y/N).

            “(Y/N), you were hurt—” said Sherlock.

            “I know,” said (Y/N). “But, please, I—I managed to come back because of what I care about.”

            “What you…care about?” repeated Sherlock.

            “Knowing you and John and Mary and everyone else is in danger, I knew I had to, you know…not die,” said (Y/N) quietly. “I want to help you all. Especially since, I assume, Magnussen is still alive.”

            “He is,” said Sherlock.

            “Then I want to help,” said (Y/N). “We need to know everything.”

            “(Y/N), you need to rest,” said Sherlock.

            “No, Dad, I need to help,” said (Y/N) quietly.

            “…You’ve got so much spirit,” said Sherlock. “It’s impressive and worrying.”

            “Well, I had a strange dad raise me,” said (Y/N), smiling. They frowned and looked down at their medical equipment. “Now, can you help me out of here?”

            “…Fine,” said Sherlock. He was worried, but (Y/N) wasn’t going to let up.

            It didn’t take much work for their intelligences to figure out a way to get out of all the equipment without setting off alarms. Sherlock had brought clothes for (Y/N), so they got bundled up, and he supported them as they walked towards the exit.

            “Do we tell John?” asked (Y/N) as they went.

            “I don’t know,” said Sherlock.

            “…I think he should get to know. He needs to decide what to do himself. He deserves the truth,” said (Y/N).

            “He does,” admitted Sherlock. He’d give up his warpath to help (Y/N). Even if he was furious with Mary, he’d support (Y/N)’s decision. (And once logic ruled his mind again—difficult in the face of (Y/N)’s pain—he would know that finding out Mary’s true identity was the right decision).

            “We can’t see John until we figure it out, though,” said (Y/N).

            “He’ll be worried about you. He wanted to see you, but I kept him and Mary out,” said Sherlock.

            “John is always worried about us,” said (Y/N).

            “We have given him reason to, it seems,” said Sherlock.

            (Y/N) smiled and leaned into their dad. “Yeah, but he forgets we have each other.”

            Sherlock smiled softly. “We do.” He was (Y/N)’s father. He’d always been there to protect them and help them. That was his duty. That was his proud duty.

Taglist:

@stilesstilinskiforlife-blog

@im-making-an-effort

@ilse235

@schrodingers-intelligence

@awsedrftgyhujikol

@lxserthxngzzz

@forever1313

@mentallyunstablemanlover

#a study of the heart and brain #x reader #gn reader #nb reader #x gn reader #x nb reader #x teen!reader #x teen reader #sherlock x teen!reader #sherlock x teen reader #teen reader #teen!reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock fanfic #sherlock & co #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock bbc #sherlock holmes x reader #father figure #found family trope #found family #bbc #sherlock #parentlock #platonic #platonic x reader

[crmsnmth]

A Letter to Someone I'll Never Talk To Again: Part One

Dear "Muppet"

Most people start off a letter by asking how you are, but I don't want to waste words on something that doesn't affect my life. I hope you're doing well, but it's really none of my bsiness in the end. I wish like hell that that wasn't true, but wishes are for wishful thinking. You know me, always the life of the party.

I haven't changed all that much since our time. Okay, that's a lie. I've changed a lot. See after you left, and everyone watched me go down, I vowed to change. That I would someday change back into the person I was at my happiest. I thougth that's what mattered, being happy.

The problem with this fool proof plan was that I was a fool with guesses. I was at my happiest with you, so that means I'll never be that person again. That person is officially dead and buried and his rotting corpse is why my breath stinks to badly in the morning. It leaves a foul taste too.

I knew you were with him during the last month of our relationship. I always wonder if you ever figured out that I figured it out, playing Sherlock Holmes but with a far less interesting story that you already know. I knew he was there while I was at work. And I bit my tongue because I loved you so much. I loved the person I had fallen in love with.

That person I fell in love so deeply with, was different than the one you were at the end. And I guess that's kind of a given fact since you were fucking someone else while we were in our relationship. I've had some bad relationships, the one after you especially difficult, but one thing i can say is that I've never once cheated on any partner I've had. Even if I wanted to, I never did it. Not even has payback. I didn't really give all thought about it.

Why would I? It never mattered what you did. From the very first time you stepped into that bar to the very last time you walked away from me, I knew I was yours. I was yours and I would do anything for you. So I even forgive you for all of this stuff too.

That doesn't mean I wasn't a problem too. I was caught in a delusional world I had built in my head, and I wouldn't get out of it until you left me. I think that was the shock that snapped everything into place. The catalyst, you could say. I was a liar and a con artist with the charisma of Charles Manson. I could get anyone on my side before you. I used those skills. I did it constantly. Tell a lie, something so far off and unreal that was obviously lie, and I'd wait for sometone to take the bait. Once they took the bair, the game was on and I ould try to convince someone that I was right, even when they knew I wasn't. It worked more often than not, and looking back, that frightens me so much. I was so good at it. Either that or everybody was somehow in on the joke. I did it too twice that I can think, but that number should be higher.

I really lost it after you left. And you saw it. The last phone call I ever got from you was the morning after a very awful evening. I don't remember the evening. I was mixing cocaine and being black out drunk. Somehow, I managed to piss everybody off and was taken outside to get the shit kicked out of me. You called the next morning, after hearing abot the beating and my awful behavior. Yout told me your roommate was super pissed at me. I tried to apologize on Facebook and maybe find out what happened, but he read my message and proceeded to block me/ That was it then. That one less than a minute long phone call.

They'll be letters soon, but for now I'm tired and my eyes itch behind my glasses. Time to start the ritual you loved so much in the beginning but by the end hated. And that's how it goes. People change, and there is absolutely nothing one could do. Our time together meant and still means almost everything to me, and at the way it's going, I'll be seeing you when my eyes close for all of eternity. Even without well-respected no contact clause. I almost broke when I came across your picture in a box of random papers. But I didn't. And the number I refuse to delete from my sim card may not even be your number anymore. I've probably gone through 100 different numbers since yo split.

I have to stop now, or I never will.

Love You Until the Sun Explodes, "Peanut"

#writers and poets #spilled thoughts #spilled feelings #spilled writing #writing #my writing #spilled emotions #spilled words #writers on tumblr #poets and writers #creative writing #writerscommunity #writerscorner #writer #punkrocksoapoperas #letters to no one #letter

[softestqueeen]

misty mornings

pairing: sherlock holmes x reader feat. john watson and mrs. hudson

summary: When Sherlock Holmes awakes on his birthday, he doesn’t expect anyone to remember it. But of course, you do.

warnings: none, just some birthday fluff

wordcount: 968 words

a/n: Happy Birthday Sherlock Holmes! I think his birthday calls for some well deserved fluff and I had the idea for this while listening to the song "misty mornings" by travis bretzer, which is where the name for this fic comes from! This is also the first time I scheduled a post, so I hope this works and uploads properly, but we'll see! I'll stopp rambling now: Enjoy <3

It was one of the rare nights where Sherlock Holmes could actually get some sleep. He didn’t dream, which made awaking a lot more pleasurable, knowing his mind had actually gotten some rest. The only strange thing: when he awoke, you weren’t in his arms.

That was weird, normally you’re the one dragging him to bed and practically forcing him to sleep. He rolled over, but your side was cold to the touch, you must have been gone for some time. He looked at the digital alarm clock and it’s red shinning numbers illuminated the room with the time just behind the light. 7:30 a.m.

Mhmm.. strange. Normally you would be still fast asleep next to him. Slowly, he was getting worried. Did you go to work early? No, that’s impossible, it’s Saturday. You never worked on Saturdays, did you?

He spent a few more moments debating with himself on what to do now, when he suddenly heard noises and the fridge opening and closing again. At first he could only hear his old flatmate John (what the hell was he doing here?), but then he could hear you whisper yelling, probably at John. What were you discussing?

He looked at the alarm clock again, this time not for the time but for the date. Did he forget something?

Oh. It was his birthday! How could he forget?

The detective dreaded his birthday every year. He would get calls from his parents and random fans sent him letters, sometimes even flowers. He didn’t see the importance of his birthday. And even when John lived with him, he never celebrated his birthday.

But now that he was in a relationship with you, he thought things might change. You probably didn’t know when his birthday was, so he could maybe casually drop it in a conversation today. Maybe even take you out to celebrate, but more to use it as an excuse to spend more time with you.

But he would have more time to think about that later. For now, he would get up, see what you and John were up to (hopefully a new case) then do some thinking and maybe afterwards take you out. Sounds like a plan, doesn’t it?

He got up, put on a pair of plait pyjama trousers and his signature morning gown and opened the door that led to the rest of the flat.

But the sight that awaited him, was nothing he could have ever imagined.

There you were standing, still in your pyjamas, holding one of Sherlocks lighters. Next to you, John who was  just putting a small cake on the table. Neither of you had noticed Sherlock yet, but it didn’t take long.

Once you did notice Sherlock standing in the doorway, a smile broke out on your face. You turned to John for a second to whisper something into his ear, whereupon John approached the detective, blocking his view of you for a second.

“How are you feeling today, Sherlock?”, John asked him with a smile on his face.

“What are you two up to?”, Sherlock shot back, visible confusion on his face.

“You’ll see in a sec.”, John answered, his smile now accompanied from a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Sherlock couldn’t react as quickly as John put the party hat on him. After his assault on Sherlock, he put one on himself. The consulting detective was still shocked and confused at what was happening.

John let him be and went back to his initial place next to you. Now Sherlock could see it all. You were wearing a hat as well and the cake was now adorned with three burning candles. You’re smile was brighter than the candles though and he got lost in your eyes for a moment.

He didn’t even know you knew when his birthday was, even though Sherlock had yours marked in his calendar.

Because of the short distraction, he didn’t realise that Mrs Hudson had come up to join the party as well and of course she also wore one of the colourful hats.

“Good, I came just in time.”, she said, beaming into the room. Apparently the group was now complete. At least he hoped it was, he couldn’t handle his brother or parents right now.

Now that everyone was here, you start to intone “Happy Birthday”. After the short serenade, Sherlock applauded the three of you, a smile forming on his lips. You walked up to him and pecked his lips. “Happy Birthday, Sherlock”, you whispered against them, before walking back to the cake.

“And now, blow out the candles and make a wish!”, you seemed more excited than him, but as long as it made you happy he’d do anything for you.

He made eye contact with everybody in the room, hoping he could tell them without words how grateful he was for this little surprise, before he went to the cake.

He thought about what to wish, but soon realized that he had everything he could ever need. He had you, a loving partner who always cared for him and waited for him when he came home, no matter what time. He had John, his best friend who always helped him and with whom he could talk about everything. He couldn’t forget about Mrs Hudson of course, who always had some advice for him and was almost like a mother for him. He had his brother, who was exactly how a big brother should be: annoying and unbearable. He even had Gevin? Gerald? Lestrade. He had Lestrade who was slowly becoming more than a colleague, a friend.

He had everything he could have ever imagined. So, he just closed his eyes and when he blew out the candles, he just wished for this to never end.

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @softestqueeen

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[calaisreno]

Imperfect: Pain, Truth, Love

Prompt: Truth

“How’s your pain level?” John asks. 

“Tolerable,” he says, as close to the truth as he can manage. It fucking hurts, he wants to say. 

“Liar. If you’re in pain, I can give you something.”

Give me time travel, he thinks. Send me back to 2010, let me figure out how we won’t end up here.

“No, it’s not so bad.” He considers. “You should go home, check on Mary.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Well, she’s pregnant.”

“Yeah. She’s also a nurse, and knows how to use a phone.”

“But you—“

“Don’t say you chose her. I didn’t. And I don’t. The woman I chose, the one I married, wasn’t an assassin. I don’t know who she is.”

He reconsiders. “She could have killed me if that’s what she intended.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” John glares at him. “That was a kill shot. And if it wasn’t, it’s given her what she wanted. That’s what she thinks, anyway. I’m not letting her divide us.” He gives a short, brutal laugh. “And her shooting you was acceptable? Is that what you think?”

“She was cornered. It wasn’t her plan.”

John rolls his eyes, gives a deep sigh. “I know you’re the amazing Sherlock Holmes, who can identify a software designer by his tie and – what was it? – a retired plumber by his left hand.” He looks away, stubbornly shaking his head. “I’ve lived with her for months. Maybe I was oblivious for most of that time, but that bullet—“ he points at Sherlock’s chest— “has given me remarkable clarity.”

“John—“

“No, Sherlock. She’s lied to me from the day we met. Everything about her is a lie. Maybe if she’d just lied about one thing— but I can see it all now. Even here, in this room, while the paramedics were taking you away, she pretended concern, but she never ever apologised to me for—“ Tears course down his face. “She knew what it did to me when you died— she saw how I grieved— and she tried to take you from me again—“

“Come here,” he says. “John, please.”

“Not if you’re going to tell me how she saved your life!”

“All right. Just— come here.”

John kneels beside his chair, leans his head on Sherlock’s thigh. Sherlock puts his hand on John’s head, feels him let go. 

“I want you to be happy,” he says. “Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve been looking for someone. When I saw you with Mary, I thought you’d found her.”

A deep sigh. “So did I. But that was only because I’d lost you. Who was the last woman I dated, Sherlock? Do you remember?”

“The boring teacher.”

“Her name was Jeanette. We broke up after the Christmas party, the first year I lived here. Do you know why I stopped dating?”

“I assumed it was because I kept scaring off all your potential girlfriends.”

“It was because of what Irene said. I know you heard it. You were there.”

“You told her you’re not gay.”

“She said we were a couple. She was right about that, and I was just too stupid to see it then. But after— after you fell, after you died—“ His face contorts with sorrow. “It was too late, but I saw it. I was in love with you.”

“But you met Mary. You married her. You’re not gay.”

“Look, just assume I’m an idiot, Sherlock. I was angry with you. I’d realised that I was in love with you, settled for a woman who I thought could make me happy, or at least less unhappy, and then you came back. But you don’t do feelings. You don’t do romance or— love. Me loving you—“ he makes a choked sound, half laugh, half sob. “You were never going to love me back, so I stayed with her. And now— I’m not going to make that mistake again. Maybe it is too late. Maybe you’re married to your work, don’t have friends, avoid sentiment because it wreaks havoc on your rational brain. I don’t care. I choose you. I love you. I need you.”

“John—“

“Fine— sentiment is on the losing side. You can’t reciprocate. I know, I know. I won’t leave you again. Not voluntarily. You’ll have to change the locks if you want to get rid of me. Or maybe have Mycroft vanish me, send me to some remote part of Canada. He’s threatened before—“

“What?”

“Just say it, Sherlock. If you want me go, I’ll go— anywhere but back to her. I wish—“

“John, stop.”

John sighs, looks up at him. “All right, I’ll go. But not until you’re off pain meds. When you’re well, I’ll leave. I’m not sorry I told you how I feel, Sherlock, but I don’t want you to think that you owe me something you can’t give.”

“John, please. No more.” He closes his eyes, breaths deeply. “Let’s assume I’m an idiot, too. I told you I was married to my work, and I believed it. But I was wrong. By the time I realised, you were dating women. I would never make you happy, I thought, but apparently I couldn’t stand seeing someone else make you happy. But when I came back and saw what I’d done to you, how unhappy you’d been after I left—“

“After you died.”

“— I was willing to put your happiness before my own selfish desires. That’s why I told you to go back to her. I wanted you to be happy.“

“Are you even listening? It isn’t about being happy, Sherlock! I don’t know why you think—“

“That’s what I thought, past tense. As I say, I was an idiot. This is imperfect— you and I. It’s something I didn’t realise, and when I finally realised, it was something I didn’t want to feel.”

Unexpectedly, John laughs. “You’re saying that even though we’re a mess, even though you don’t want it—“

“I love you too, John.”

“Do you mean—”

“Yes. In every way. Always.”

1000 words / Flash Fiction

@lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @bertytravelsfar @momma2boys @jrow @helloliriels @the-reading-lemon @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @elwinglyre @mydogwatson @thetimemoves @jobooksncoffee @lhrinchelsea @peanitbear @gregorovitchworld @7-percent @shiplocks-of-love @khorazir @gaylilsherlock @catlock-holmes @the-reading-lemon

#my fics #may 2023 prompts #johnlock fanfiction #truth #love confessions #1000 words #flashfiction

[fictionalmenmistress]

The Private Library

... Of Fictional Men Mistress

Welcome! This post serves as my digital private library... my most beloved collection. None of these works are mine, and all credit is due to the lovely and incredible minds that created these works of art; (which you will find next to their titles, once you choose a category). This is the home to my personal most favorites, and most beloved stories and fanfictions and blog posts I have read. I think about these daily... I adore these. They've made my life better. They've changed my life. They've kept me going during my lowest points in life, and I mean that. I reccomend all of these. These were written by the best writers in the world; true to character, perfectly immersive, so imaginative, feels like you are there.

All of these fanfictions, stories, character & show analysis, random tumblr posts, headcannons, and beloved writings of all types, will be listed in no distinct order, inside their categories. Please Enjoy; explore them all! 🖤🗝☕🥂

The Majorety of these reccomends are for mature audiences, 18+, so if you are a minor, please DO NOT read through these reccomends yet.

Choose a vinyl playlist!

What genre of fandom writing do you want to spin on the turntable???

NOTE: NO LINKS ON THIS LIST ARE CURRENTLY ACTIVE! LISTS ARE BEING FINISHED, AND LINKS WILL BE ADDED TO THIS LIST ALL AT ONCE, VERY SOON. PLEASE CHECK OUT MY OTHER MASTERLISTS, PINNED TO MY BLOG, AND SAVE THIS GOODIE FOR LATER! 😉

• Favorite STARWARS Reccomendations: (The Clone Wars, Prequels, Sequels, The Bad Batch) Analysis / Headcannon / Fanfictions / NSFW & SMUT 🖤

• Favorite BTS Reccomendations: (mostly Taehyung, Namjoon, Yoongi, Jungkook, Jin, Hoseok) Analysis / Headcannon / Fanfictions / NSFW & SMUT 🖤

• Favorite TMNT Reccomendations: (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Bayverse Turtles, 80s, 2003 TMNT, Rise of the TMNT, 2007 TMNT) Analysis / Headcannon / Fanfictions / NSFW & SMUT 🖤

• Favorite MARVEL Reccomendations: (MOON KNIGHT, WandaVision, LOKI, Loki Laufeyson, Avengers, XMEN, Wolverine, VENOM) Analysis / Headcannon / Fanfictions / NSFW & SMUT 🖤

• Favorite LIE TO ME* Reccomendations: (Dr. Cal Lightman, Tim Roth *actor*) Headcannons / Fanfictions / NSFW & SMUT 🖤

• Favorite THE BOYS Recommendations: (Billy Butcher, The Boys Team) Analysis / Headcannon / Fanfictions / NSFW & SMUT 🖤

• Favorite MY HERO ACADAMIA Reccomendations: (Bakugou Katsuki, Todoroki Shouto, Kirishima Enji, Dabi) Analysis / Headcannons / Fanfictions / NSFW & SMUT 🖤

• Favorite Good Omens Reccomendations: (Anthony J. Crowley *The Demon*, Aziraphale A.Z. Fell *The Angel*) Analysis / Headcannons / Fanfictions 🖤

• Favorite "Warden" Hwajin Na *Get Schooled Webtoon* Reccomendations: Analysis / Headcannons / Fanfiction / NSFW & SMUT 🖤

• Favorite Tom Hiddleston Reccomendations: (Tommy Hiddles *actor*) Headcannons / Fanfictions / NSFW & SMUT 🖤

• Favorite What We Do In The Shadows Reccomendations: (Vladislav The Poker, Viago Von Dorna Schmarten Scheden Heimburg, Deacon Bruke, Stu, Nick "Twilight", Anton The Werewolf, Nandor The Relentless, Guillermo De La Cruz, Lazlo Cravensworth, Nadjia of Axtapos, Colin Robinson) Analysis / Headcannon / Fanfictions / NSFW & SMUT 🖤

• Favorite SHERLOCK Reccomendations: (Sherlock Holmes *BBC*, John Watson, classic sir arthur conan doyle books) analysis / fanfictions / NSFW & SMUT 🖤

• Favorite DC COMICS Recommendations: (BATMAN, The Batfamily, Nightwing, Robin, The Teen Titans) analysis / fanfictions 🖤

• Favorite Impractical Jokers Reccomendations: (The Tenderloins comedy troupe, Brian "Q" Quinn, Sal Vulcano, James S. "MURR" Murray, Joe Gatto) Headcannon / Fanfictions / NSFW & SMUT 🖤

• Favorite Portal Recommendations: (Portal, Portal 2, Wheatley, Chell, the Cores) Analysis / Headcannon / Fanfictions / NSFW & SMUT 🖤

• Favorite Ghostbusters Reccomendations: (Dr. Egon Spangler, Dr. Ray Stanz, Dr. Peter Venkman, Winston Zeddermore) Analysis / Headcannon / Fanfictions / NSFW & SMUT 🖤

• Favorite AVATAR (Na'vi) Reccomendations: (Jake Sully, Neteyam Sully) Analysis / Headcannons / Fanfictions / NSFW & SMUT 🖤

• Favorite Stranger Things Reccomendations: (Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington) Headcannon / Fanfictions / NSFW & SMUT 🖤

• Favorite Tumblr Posts: (random, deep & intellectual, movie, life, advice, or most comedic posts, that make tumblr the greatest platform of all) 🖤

>>> Return to Main Masterlist?

#fictionalmenmistress #personal #my masterlists #my reviews

[storyofmychoices]

Shadows and Deception: Parts V & VI

[Series Masterlist] [My Choices Masterlists]

Books: The Royal Romance (post-TRF), Crimes of Passion I, Desire & Decorum, Blades of Light and Shadow I

Characters: Trystan Thorne (M, no race mentioned), Marguerite Thorne, Olivia Nevrakis, Queen Amalas, Maxwell Beaumont, Daniel, King Liam (no race mentioned), Tyril Starfury, Nia Ellarious, Prince Hamid

Pairings: Olivia Nevrakis x Queen Amalas ; M!Trystan Thorne x (no gender given) MC (mentioned) ; King Liam x Riley (mentioned)

Rating/Warnings: Teen, mentions of blood, stab wound, knives/daggers (no graphic descriptions)

Word Count: Part V: ~500; Part VI: ~1,500 : total ~2,000

Summary: The murder weapon is found and it belongs to someone we know well. Are they guilty or are they being framed?

Catch Up: [Parts I and II] [Part III and IV]

V. --- In the Ballroom with the Dagger? (Clue inspired)

Trystan's eyes widened in discovery, a smile filling his face. He had become somewhat of a well-known detective back in New York, and he was happy to see his skills weren't going to waste on this little trip. "Over here," he shouted, calling the guards toward an ornate golden curtain drawn back to the side, allowing the haunting moonlight to pour into the ballroom. "It's just there," he directed, pushing the folds of the curtain open for them to see.

"It can't be." King Liam's face drained of color.  

One of the guards carefully lifted out the concealed ornate silver dagger adorned with sapphires in the hilt. 

The gaze of the room fell on the scarlet-haired Duchess. 

Olivia scowled, rolling her eyes at the incompetence of those around her. It had to be a replica, “a bad one at that”, she snarked. "As if anyone could lift my dagger from me." She slipped her gown up her thigh, revealing an empty slot in her thigh sheath. "I—It can't—" she stuttered for perhaps the first time in her life. "That's not possible. No one could—" 

"Olivia?" Liam approached cautiously. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," she scowled, still trying to assess the situation. "I would never be so sloppy as to leave the murder weapon so visibly in the open where a wannabe Sherlock Holmes could find it. How did you find it so easily?"

“Elementary,” said he with a playful wink.

Her gaze narrowed suspiciously at him before shifting back to Liam. "Trust me, if I had killed him, you'd never know." 

Despite her confident tone, Olivia's thoughts wandered. That was definitely her dagger, but no one could have lifted it from her, especially without her knowledge. The moment of confusion that flickered in her eyes turned to cold calculations as she analyzed the faces of everyone around, searching for that missing piece to put the entire puzzle together. She was being framed, but whoever was careless enough to make her a suspect must know that her wrath would find them. Sunrise might not come to all. 

"I need you to come with me, Olivia," Liam said solemnly. His arm extended, ushering her forward with the guard. 

"Of course," her voice resolute as she continued her own investigation with each step forward. Her gaze landed on a certain fashion designer—Princess of Drakovia, Marguerite Thorne. The subtle hint of a smile on her face as she watched closely, her fingers gliding across the smooth screen of her phone with only the occasional glance down. Could the rumors be true? Olivia would find out one way or another. 

What Olivia failed to notice however was that she wasn't the sole object of the Princess's observation. There was someone else—someone far more captivating. It wasn't the look she had anticipated. She expected the Spy Queen's countenance to remain inscrutable, especially at this crucial moment. Yet, Marguerite saw it in her eyes; it was a familiar expression, one she had seen before. Interesting, she mused to herself, watching as Amalas’s fingers ever so slightly caressed her clutch, watching as Liam led Olivia away. Very interesting.

VI. Put two and two together... sometimes the answer's four... and sometimes it's twenty-two. (Nick Charles)

As the investigation into the murder mystery deepened, the ballroom buzzed with whispers and hushed conversations. The air crackled with tension, each suspect under the microscope of suspicion. A trail of clues emerged, casting suspicion not only on Olivia but also on a certain Drakovia princess, no stranger to deception and spying herself, as well as to the Priestess Nia, who first discovered the body. 

Tyril placed a gentle hand on Nia's shoulder, approaching from behind.

Startled momentarily, the Priestess soon relaxed upon recognizing his familiar face. "It's you," she breathed more easily.

"Nia," Tyril began in a hushed tone, "I overheard a whisper among the guards. They mentioned that a strand of red hair was found beneath the body."

Nia's eyes widened in surprise. "Do they think it's mine?" Her voice tinged with concern. She quickly tried to reconcile it. "It must have fallen out when I found Daniel."

Tyril furrowed his brow, deep in thought. "It's peculiar," he mused. "They found the hair beneath the body. It seems unlikely that it fell from you at the time of the discovery."

Nia pondered for a moment longer, her expression shifting as she reached a new conclusion. "It's possible that it happened earlier when he served me a drink. The hair could have landed on his clothing and found its way under the body." 

"Perhaps," Tyril considered. "Be careful, Nia. The Duchess seems to be hinting it came from you at the time of the murder."

Nia's voice rose in her defense, "What motive could I have? I could never hurt a life! I've never even stepped on an ant before!"

Tyril pulled her to the side, quieting her once more. "I believe you, Nia," he reassured her. His voice lowered to a soothing tone. "But we must remain cautious. Someone here in the palace is responsible, and we need to find out who. Stay away from the royals for now. We know how many secrets they hold."

Nia nodded a mixture of confusion and disbelief in her eyes. "Why would Olivia insist it's my hair, though? What would she accomplish with that?"

Tyril's gaze hardened, a spark of determination igniting within him. "That is indeed the question. We will uncover the truth, Nia, no matter what it takes."

Marguerite's gaze narrowed as she approached Trystan. She wasted no time in confronting her brother about the rumor she heard. "I heard you broke into the armory. Is it true?" 

Trystan's gaze met hers in amusement. "My dear sister, you confuse me with Kaspar," he replied with a smirk. "Though, I suppose then it would have been the jewel room instead. Too bad he’s banned for stealing the Cordonia Golden Apple. He would have had fun tonight.”

"This is serious, Trystan!" 

"Relax, Mags. Rose may have been giving me lessons on lock picking, and I must say, I've become quite proficient. But I've not left the ballroom all night. I trust the cameras will confirm as much." 

Marguerite shook her head in confusion. "Then why would someone spread such a rumor?" 

Trystan's smirk widened. "Perhaps they wanted to divert our attention from something else, or somewhere else."

"What are you talking about?"

"I still have the key to the truth hidden in my pocket." He tapped his jacket, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Marguerite pressed her hands to her hips, waiting for an explanation.

Trystan fished the silver trinket from his jacket pocket, holding it up for Marguerite to see.

"What is that? What’s it for?" 

Trystan shrugged nonchalantly. "No idea," he replied, flipping the key in his hand with a flourish before returning it to his pocket. "But I have a feeling it's connected to what happened tonight.” 

Her curiosity turned to suspicion. "Where did you get it?" 

"Someone slipped it into my pocket earlier this evening," he confessed, his voice dripping with delight. 

“And you didn’t catch them? You’re slipping.”

“On the contrary, I propose they’re that good. We’re not looking for an amateur,” he revealed proudly. "And now, my dear Mags, it's up to us to unravel its secrets."

"Where do you think it leads?"

"I recently learned that the staff secures their personal possessions in lockers outside of the kitchen... care to venture on a little side quest with me?" 

Her lips pressed together in a Cheshire grin as she followed behind him, making sure the flash drive she had been hiding was tucked safely in her handbag out of sight of her curious brother.

Not satisfied with the rush to judge Nia or even the Duchess, Tyril continued his own investigation. He found himself conferring with Prince Hamid, considering him a reliable source and an upstanding citizen in search of the truth. They met in a secluded corner of the ballroom, away from prying eyes and eager ears.

Prince Hamid leaned in, his voice quieting, "I overheard an interesting theory. Some believe the evidence points towards Marguerite framing both Olivia and Trystan for their respective crimes. But the question in that became, what does she stand to gain from either murder? And could she truly be cunning and ruthless enough to manipulate her brother and fellow royal as pawns to some unseen end?"

Tyril’s lips pressed together in consideration. "The evidence is light on both accounts of murder. The Princess Marguerite may have secrets to hide, but I believe them to be unrelated to these crimes."

Prince Hamid nodded, his eyes glancing across the ballroom. "I share your sentiments. I would add that I also find Trystan to be without blame in this despite the accusations of his past. Trystan played a crucial role in bringing justice to the Heartache Killer. It stands to reason that he is invested in the truth. I see no cause to suspect him in this case."

As they spoke, they noticed Trystan's return to the ballroom, his presence catching their attention. The two exchanged a meaningful glance before setting off toward him, hoping he could shed further light on the events of the evening. 

The pair approached the exiled Prince, their eyes filled with anticipation and determination. Trystan, happy to formally make their acquaintance, listened with great interest to what they had observed. Tyril and Prince Hamid shared their thoughts, suspicions, and what they had overheard, hoping that Trystan would reciprocate with findings of his own. 

"Not here." Trystan glanced around the room, carefully studying the locations of the cameras. After a moment of contemplation, he guided them behind a large pillar, confident that it would provide enough cover to discuss their discoveries without being noticed.

"Earlier this evening, someone slipped a key into my pocket," Trystan admitted in hushed tones. "Not long ago, I concluded it may open Daniel's locker."

"Is that from where you are returning?" Tyril asked. 

"Yes."

"From the look of exhilaration in your countenance, I trust your search was fruitful," Prince Hamid posed.

Trystan smirked, carefully revealing a handful of coded correspondences. 

The three men analyzed the documents hoping to find a clue.

Prince Hamid drew a page closer to his nose, recognizing a faint citrus scent emanating from the corner of the documents. "Could it be?" He hummed to himself. Acting on a hunch, he brought the bottom edge of one of the letters close to his lips and exhaled softly, applying heat to the paper.

A faint illustration of a brown squid flickered to life before their eyes, only to disappear as Prince Hamid pulled back. "Invisible ink," he concluded. “Lemon juice, most likely.”

Before they could delve deeper into their speculations as to the meaning of the latest revelation, Trystan's phone chimed with a notification, indicating that a video had finished downloading.

“Perfect timing!” He held up his phone for his newfound partners to see. "Maybe this will shed some light on the mystery," he announced with more than a hint of excitement. "I asked a friend of mine back in New York to hack into the surveillance feed for the camera closest to Daniel. Shall we put this mystery to rest and catch a glimpse of the killer?" 

The trio waited with bated breath as the video played, revealing a shadowy figure lurking in the back moments before Daniel entered the frame. With lightning precision, the figure concealed by a dark cloak moved toward the waiter and retreated just as quickly. The murderer's identity may have remained concealed but their size and stature hinted at just one thing, a woman had been the culprit of this heinous act.

As the footage concluded, Tyril couldn't help but notice someone lingering on the other side of the column, partially concealed from view. He strained to catch a glimpse, but when he turned to inspect further, they were nowhere to be found. With only a glimpse of their features, he couldn't be sure, but he thought he had seen Queen Amalas. 

[Continue...]

Thanks for reading! I hope you are enjoying the mystery. What do you make of all of the new clues that seem to be arising? What could it mean?

Find out tomorrow when the last section of the story is released.

Giveaway Information: complete details here

3 winners will be chose for minimalist portraits with @bayleedrawsx

Any one who comments on or reblogs with a comment with their theories, thoughts, ideas, ect. on any and all sections of the story will be entered in the giveaway. (1 entry per section)

Prompts: For @choicesbookclub COP ; @choicesmonthlychallenge Private Investigator Event

Special thanks: to JenBeaumontJones (IG) for beta reading

#playchoices #choices game #the royal romance #blades of light and shadow #crimes of passion #desire & decorum #choices fan fiction #tyril starfury #trystan thorne #marguerite thorne #nia ellarious #maxwell beaumont #olivia nevrakis #queen amalas #prince hamid #lovealexhunt #choices book club

[starkraivennemad]

Reminding Me

Greg Lestrade was not having the best day. Awake since a quarter of three in the morning, it was now half past one in the morning. He stood back while Donovan questioned a new widow. There was something about the woman that niggled at the back of his mind, something he could not put a finger on.

Same with a book he saw in the window of a shop that morning. And with the new watch he noticed on his boss’ wrist while being royally blasted by him for something that was not his fault.

Greg chastised himself to pay attention before he missed something – else, or nearly did something stupid – again.

Goodness knows I do not need another dressing down from Sherlock Holmes, when I was caught semi day-dreaming.

There had been something about a painting in a different murder’s home that had triggered a similar feeling he could not quite grasp.

“I would think the copious amount of blood on the floor you’re about to step into would have your attention, not- whatever that monstrosity passing itself off as art on the wall. Clearly you don’t need my assistance if you can’t pay attention, Inspector. ”

And with that Sherlock flounced off minutes later.

Now hours after the fact, it still rankled. Suffice it to say when his phone buzzed with a familiar pattern Greg was not in the mood.

Mycroft. Oh, Christ, what does he  want?

Before he fully retrieved his phone from his pocket the buzzing stopped. Assuming an accidental dial, and grateful to no have to deal with the man right now, Greg went back to work. He would have completely dismissed the incident if the same did not happen again as he and Donovan left the scene and called it quits for the night.

Greg stared at his phone in surprise.  Mycroft Holmes accidentally dialing someone once was a mistake. But twice – within  the span of twenty minutes?

That did NOT happen.

Greg immediately dialed the man as he rushed to his car.

“Gregory, I apologize. I was not aware of the late hour and…”

Tired as he was, even Greg heard the falsehood of it. Greg did not lie to himself. He knew Mycroft Holmes to be a master manipulator. If he truly wanted to lie to Greg, he would be none the wiser. Greg did not think twice as he interrupted.

“Bollocks, Mycroft. What do you need?”

“I…”

The phone fell silent. The seconds ticking by was the only reason Greg knew the man had not rung out. As Greg somehow knew he would, he smiled to himself when Mycroft spoke again exactly as the minute mark struck.

“I must suffer being in close quarters with another being.”

Mycroft suffer?

His exhaustion fled; Greg looked at his phone. “Excuse me?”

The uber intelligent genius worked in a position the world does not know exists and is better for it. Mycroft Holmes causes suffering in others who do not listen to his advice in that position. Mycroft himself does not suffer for anything but save his brother and migraines; that his brother,  Sherlock, was sometimes the cause of said Migraines, notwithstanding. A man for whom caring is not an advantage is practically a mantra, Mycroft most certainly did not suffer the company of others if he did not have to, including Greg’s. Something he had made known repeatedly in their association, even if that now decade old association has slowly grown into something of a friendship from once acrimonious beginnings.

Greg started his car. “It’s past two in the morning, Mycroft. I’m having a bad day, could you be a little more forthcoming?”

“I know, Gregory... As am I...” Mycroft sighed. Before Greg could take in the enormity of that admission, Mycroft continued. “I... I find myself in the unique mindset of desiring quiet, but not solitude and the Quiet Room will not do. If I must do this – and clearly, I must – the only compromise is to align myself with someone who would cause the least egregiousness  to my sensibilities. I lament that it seems it would be… you.”

“I…” It was Greg’s turn to take a full minute to parse through the backhanded part to reach the possible compliment.

He wants company? But not just any company. He wants MY company…

“Where are you?”

“Diogenes, if you’re too tired, Gregory, I will underst-”

“Be there in twenty.” Greg rang out.

----    ----

A middle of the night Mycroft sat behind his desk. His shirt sleeves were perfectly folded, exposing his forearms. It was only the second time Greg had seen him as such. With his eyes glued to his work, Mycroft blinked when Greg stood at the door and softly cleared his throat.

You called here I am. Your insufferable company.

Mycroft checked the time, seventeen minutes. He gave a slight smile when Greg said nothing else as he closed the door, and hung his trench on the rack.

Always the perfect host, Mycroft gestured between the choice of the wingback chairs by the fireplace, a decanter of what Greg knew would be very expensive brandy on a table between them, or the sofa which had a pillow and a blanket folded on top, in deference to the late hour.

Mycroft stood; a curious look flickered across his face as Greg chose neither but approached the desk instead.

Greg closed the laptop and glared at Mycroft daring him to gainsay him as he pointed to the chairs.

You want quiet, but not solitude, but you are not working while I just sit around and twiddle my…

Caught in Mycroft’s blue/grey gaze he was reminded of the art that had captured his attention – It had the same color. Without looking down he knew then that his boss’ new watch reminded him of Mycroft’s pocket watch. The book he saw in the shop? A copy of Narnia that he and Mycroft had talked about at their last dinner. And the canned lights above Mycroft’s head shone on the ginger hairs of the hirsute man’s forearms. Hair the bright ginger color of the victim’s wife Donovan interviewed.

…Oh

“Gregory?” Mycroft broke the silence. “Are you well?”

He called...

He started to say I saw something today, and it made me think of you, but stopped himself just in time.

...and I came running...

It was then Greg realized these were not one-off occurrences at all. He has been seeing the man in seemingly random things, not just that day, but for quite a while.

...without batting an eye...

Oh shit…

“I’m fine – shall we…?” Greg quickly turned, walked to the chairs, sat, and poured himself a much-needed drink.

He called and here I am…

In a moment of shocking clarity, Gregory Lestrade understood something else:

I’m in love with Mycroft Holmes and I absolutely cannot tell him.

OH SHIT!

@mystradepromptsandscenarios

#mystradedialogueprompt #mystrade monday #mystrade #bbc sherlock #greg lestrade #mycroft holmes

[pyreneese]

Comic Con

@unofficial-deathnotetober

Day 7: Cosplay

Pairing: Hints of Lawlight

Rating: G

L and Light were bored. The chain that connected them idly swung a few inches over the ground. Eventually, Light's head bobbed.

"Wanna go to Comic Con?"

L's brow quirked.

"That... seems very unlike you. You have tickets?"

Light's face soured.

"Yeah, I do. I was supposed to go with friends. But then, well... you know." He gently rattled the chain with an accusatory glare.

L's lips pursed, not responding to the jab. It was probably a bad idea. Knowing Light, he probably had some sort of master plan. L's voice came out flat.

"I wouldn't undo the chain."

"You don't have to. We'll just say it's part of the cosplay."

L considered. Hm. Eventually, he swung to a sitting position and sighed.

"Fine. Let's go."

The second they stepped into the venue, they froze. All around them were people dressed up as different interpretations of L and Kira. They were imaginative, to be sure.

The Kiras wore everything from wings to devil horns to incorporating fake hearts into their outfits. Some of them carried scythes, others swords and wands. Light's mouth fell open. This was... weird. He glanced in shock at the interpretations of L.

Some looked like Sherlock Holmes. Some were literally just a giant foam L. Some of them were dressed up as the suave detective archetype. Others seemed more grungy.

Perhaps the thing that made both L and Light want to turn around and go home though was the fact that most of the L and Kira cosplays they saw were couple costumes. People walking and holding hands, pressing tender kisses against lips and cheeks. And the Artist Alley... Oh, God, the Artist Alley...

"Why... why do people ship us?" Light murmured in horror.

All L could do was stare with his large, owlish eyes. A teen passed them and looked at them, tilting his head slightly.

"Are you cosplaying as L and Kira?"

The two of them nodded slowly. The kid perked up at pointed at L.

"That's a pretty cool cosplay! It's perfectly creepy for Kira!"

He looked at Light with an approving nod.

"Not a bad L! You two make a cute couple!"

The teen beamed and continued on towards the autograph section. Light's eyes bugged, his jaw tense at being referred to as an L. He glared murderously after the kid. L's brow quirked. So apparently he came across more as a Kira. He touched a thumb to his mouth, lips curving around the finger.

"15%."

Light's head whipped in his direction, cheeks dusting a light red.

"I want to go back to the building," he growled bluntly.

L smirked, large eyes sparking mischievously.

"Nope! We're going to Artist Alley."

Without another word or debate, L unceremoniously dragged Light in the direction of the fan art, snickering as Light started calling him every name under the sun.

#death note #unoffiicialdeathnotetober2023 #light yagami #l death note #lawlight

[kaisooficrec]

fic search n. 8 🔎

#037:

Haelofish: Hii I need help to find this fic. Only remember that they are at dinner/party. KS parents think that jongin is a bad influence, then JI steals a key from someone house and take KS there and have sx

#038:

Dudu: Hi! I need help with one fic. Baek and Soo are boyfriends and he dare Kyungsoo so give Kai a BJ while he's watching.

#039:

Andi: Im trying to find a kaisoo fanfic. Its not new, Maybe 2018-2021. It was an ongoing,long.Fantasy genre, adventure. I dont really remember the plot, but there were other kingdoms, eyes colour was import

#040:

hani: Hi, im looking for a fic where Kyungsoo is supervillain and Kai is the hero and Kyungsoo falls in love with him. Kyungsoo also had a tiger if that helps lol

#041:

rhy: do u guys know this fic where ksoo took in bear hybrid nini? and along the way nini got scared that kyungsoo will kick him out cause he hibernated?

#042:

Nabs: Hi, I’m looking for an old kaisoo fanfic where they’re strangers to lovers, only for one to find out that he’s schizophrenic and have been imagining the other, after witnessing an accident. Thank you!

#043:

Oboni: And I need to find a fic where jongin is kyungsoo's teacher. Kyungsoo so freaking talented. Almost like Sherlock Holmes. But jongin is married with soojung. Kaisoo develop a guilty pleasure type rltn.

#044:

Kim: i was looking for au where Jongin is the athlete, Kyungsoo fell down confessing his feelings to Jongin on the court, but Jongin just laughed and Kyungsoo got embarrassed and ran away before listening

#045:

Garnets: Hi! I'm looking for a tweetfic / au (i believe i read it on twitter). They are both agent. They are exes. Ksoo will go to a difficult mission on airplane, kai insist to be his mission partner after their breakup, kai always flirts with other in the office. Ksoo saw that, but doesn't bothered bcs he know it's just a gimmick. He knows kai's real flirt. It's different there is a scene when ksoo cut his hais bald. Later in the office, jongin saw it and he got startled, gawking at soo's head. One time jongdae slapped soo's butt and jongin stared hard at the scene so after it is fixed that ji will be soo's mission partner, soo went to locker and ji followed him. They had a heated arguments at the locker. So why ji insisted on assisting soo on this mission? 1. It's a difficult mission on airplane, soo is scared of height. 2. Ji is the most skilled agent on air mission. 3. Ji hated to wait for days till soo came back from a mission, not knowing whether soo will come back alive or not

#046:

Hani: Hii, i was wondering if someone could help me find a fic? I Read it a while ago and it was a fic with kaisoo veing royals, kyungsoo was a carrier and Jongin could read kyungsoo’s mind since they were soulmates or something. I don’t remember much else about it😅 there was this one scene where a baby was abandoned and kyungsoo being a carrier was super affected by it, and also it is slow burn and chaptered. Hope that helps a little thank youu

#047:

Kimsoo: Hi, does anyone know a fic where Kyungsoo is a doctor in a kingdom and Jongin is a warlord in that kingdom, they like each other, then Jongin goes to war.

#kaisoo #kadi #dika #fic search