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gregorovitch-adler · 8 months

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Wallet

John sat back on the sofa and relaxed. Rosie was at the daycare, and the renovation of 221 B Baker Street was about to finish in a day or two. Sherlock and John were done with today's work at least.

Sherlock was out for a walk to clear his head, probably to delete some insignificant information from his Mind Palace. John was only guessing, so he shrugged to himself.

Working on the renovation of this house - the place where they used to live together and John had the time of his life before Sherlock's awful staged death - had brought them closer together once again. John had moved back into this flat with Rosie a while ago.

Perhaps this was their way of forgetting about the dreadful day at Sherrinford. John was trying to forget Eurus in general, but his messy and still a little burnt surroundings were making it difficult. She was the one to send the silent bomb to their place, after all.

Still, John was trying to live. Trying to make things better between him and Sherlock. He knew he had to be the one to make the most effort - given how he'd treated Sherlock after Mary's death. Cutting him out of his life. Abandoning Sherlock when he needed John the most, and letting him end up in that morgue at Culverton Smith's mercy.

The images of John kicking and punching Sherlock until he lay half-dead on the floor, actually bleeding from several places, flashed before John once more.

John closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn't stopped being haunted by the vivid images of that day. What had he done? He'd ruined everything they once had between them, that's what. John deserved to be haunted, and so much worse. How could he possibly treat someone he was in love with in that way? He didn't deserve Sherlock at all.

They'd started to work together again on the cases because, for some inexplicable reason, Sherlock didn't hold John accountable for his actions, even when he had every right to do so in the world.

John would never dare to even think of Sherlock as a heartless person again. John knew he would never be able to comprehend the size of this man's heart.

Still, things weren't the same. John felt that he and Sherlock had a lot of things they needed to talk about with each other. Both of them had been holding back on many things.

Not that John expected things to remain the same, after how he'd treated Sherlock. But a better communication was needed.

John will have that with Sherlock someday. He didn't know how, but he was going to try. He'd start by apologising first. He was ready to get down on his knees if that was what he needed to do. He'd do anything Sherlock asked. Anything in the world.

For now, he pulled out his wallet from his back pocket to open it.

His stomach twisted when he saw it was Mary, Rosie, and himself in the photo that the wallet contained. He felt nauseated looking at his fake smile in that photo. The time when everything was bitter but he was supposed to pretend he was okay.

It went without question that John loved Rosie, but he couldn't bear to look at the fake happy family photograph anymore. Not with how things with Mary turned out in the end.

John decided he needed a different photo for his wallet, so he took this one out and placed it on the coffee table.

He wondered which photo he'd use instead. John grabbed his phone from his pocket and opened the gallery, to go through some suitable images.

John wasn't the one to take a lot of pictures, but as he scrolled through, he stumbled across one from ages ago.

It was Sherlock in that picture, standing just outside a restaurant and laughing. Heartily and beautifully.

John stared at the image trying to recall what this was about.

That's when he remembered: They were on a case and they'd taken a short break because John was hungry. And John had tried to pull the door instead of pushing, even when the sign clearly said 'Push'. John had spitefully taken his photo after that.

John chuckled at the memory and swallowed. This one it was then. The picture he'd use for his empty wallet.

John was very much aware that he'd lost the chance of trying to have a relationship with Sherlock. He was incredibly lucky that Sherlock was ready to have him back as a friend.

John had to take his feelings to the grave, but this was the least he could do to make himself feel better. It was selfish, but it was his private thing.

It had to be this way.

Sherlock September Challenge by @onesmallfamily

Prompt: Wallet.

Tagging: @helloliriels , @topsyturvy-turtely , @lisbeth-kk , @keirgreeneyes , @gaylilsherlock , @clueless-mp4 , @curlyjohnlock , @a-victorian-girl , @lookingforlifeoutthere , @missdeliadili, @peanitbear , @calaisreno , @kettykika78 .

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #sherlock holmes/john watson #sherock x john #sherlockian #sherlock headcanon #september prompts #new ficlet #wallet #angst #post- tfp #pining john watson

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tommdale · 10 months

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I love your art so much!! Especially Sherlock and Mocha leaning on each other 🥺🥺🥺

Head cannon time:

Mocha gets anxious when Gavin’s away for long periods of time (he tries not leaving them for too long, but can’t help it sometimes).

So she’ll meow til he gets home. Sometimes, Sherlock comes to keep her company and this is how Gavin finds them when they get back

#detroit become human #gavin reed #nines rk900 #reed900 #this is my hc for gavin’s cats #mocha and sherock are their names #dbh

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lesbonoi · 12 days

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some of sherlocks idle animations that make me giggle plus one im not sure is actually used in the game:

#i have to. cycle through all 10000 animartions.#feel free to correct me on that last one!#frogwares sherock holmes

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dctable · 1 year

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Elementary, my dear Bernard

Tim Drake Robin #8

Editorial requested a Sherlock inspired Tim Drake in the vein of Sidney Padget's original illustrations. Because of that I changed up my process and did more of a greyscale ink-wash and added the color in after.

David Talaski

#David Talaski #Bernard Dowd #Tim Drake #Robin #Sidney Padget Sherock Holmes

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chicasrock · 1 year

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Happy Birthday to our talented Chica Cutie 🥳💕 Wishing you a Rocking day. We love you!! #chicasrockcc #cutiechica #bdaygirl #sherocks #coolestgirlsintown (at Corpus Christi, Texas) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqOu7LQsFG0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#chicasrockcc #cutiechica #bdaygirl #sherocks #coolestgirlsintown

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athenepromachos · 1 year

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And with that pipe.....

#henry cavill #sherlock #sherock holmes #enola holmes 2 #pipe #suck on that pipe #smokin'#cavill bde #🍆🍌🍆🍌🍆🍌🍆🍌🍆🍌🍆🍌🍆🍌🍆🍌🍆🍌

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make-me-imagine · 2 years

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Feelings to Embrace

Requests/Plot: Reader was also a consulting detective. Maybe with the prompt "I'd feel much better if you'd let me walk take you home" with Sherlock wanting to make sure that the reader is okay after finishing a tough case? And "You came all the way here for me?" and 'Fingertips brushing hair from your face.' Requested By: Anon "Ace" and a second Anon.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x GN!Reader

Warnings: Brief mention of violence and hospitals.

Words: 1.3k

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo Elementary Taglist: None; let me know if you want to be added

You eyed the officers at the door as you shoved the rest of your stuff into a bag. You had been in the hospital for three days, and the officers hadn't once left your door. You knew there had been a possibility of a partner in your most recent case, and now this just confirmed it.

You winced a bit as you sat down in a nearby chair to pull on your shoes. Your mind wandered to Sherlock, wondering if he had any clues to who the partner was. You knew the killer that had been arrested wasn't the type to talk, so Sherlock would have to figure it out on his own.

As if your thoughts summoned him, you look up to see Sherlock step into the room. He held his arms behind his back as he looked around, finally meeting your eyes. "I heard you were going home today."

You smiled softly. "Yes. Any luck with the partner?"

You saw Sherlock wrinkle his nose as he looked around the room again. "Not at the moment, but I'm close." He said softly, and you could tell it was bothering him, not knowing.

"I'm sure you'll catch him." You said with a sigh as you stood up.

You saw Sherlock's eyes look you up and down, and you knew what had happened was playing through his mind. The killer, who you thought was working alone at the time, had suck up on you on your search of his apartment. You fought him rather brutally until Sherlock and Bell showed up to help you.

"Are you sure you should be going home? You still look a bit..." he trailed off as he motioned at you vaguely.

You let out a soft laugh. "I'm fine, just a bit bruised and sore, there's no real reason to keep me here."

Sherlock turned and walked to the window. You watched him curiously, noting how fidgety he appeared to be. "Are you alright Sherlock?"

Turning, he met your eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Closing it, he walked up to you and bounced on the balls of his feet. "I'm...frustrated. That the partner is eluding me so well. But...I'd feel much better if you'd let me take you home"

You watched him for a moment, "You don't think the partner will come after me do you?"

Sherlock looked down at his feet, before meeting your eyes again. "I don't know." You noted the seriousness in his tone.

"It would be easier if he did though, wouldn't it?" You asked, not really thinking about what you said.

Sherlock cocked his head lightly. "I'm not here in hopes of catching him, I-" he seemed to grow more flustered as he spoke. "Well, as hard as it might be to believe, I am only here to make sure you get home safely. I do not want the partner to come for you, no matter how easy that might make it to find him."

"So, you came all the way here for me?" You asked softly, knowing that Sherlock lived on the other side of the city.

He nodded once. "Yes. I did."

You couldn't ignore the swelling you seemed to feel in your chest, or the heat that rose up your neck. Not wanting him to notice, you spun around, and grabbed you bag, ignoring the soreness of your body. "Well then, I don't see why I shouldn't let you take me home."

Turning back, you handed your bag to Sherlock, which he took quickly before turning to leave. You smiled softly at the thought of him caring about you this much as you followed him.

The drive back to your apartment was filled with discussion about the case and the partner, and who they could be. You knew Sherlock was frustrated, but you could also tell there was something else bothering him.

As you got into your apartment, you watched as Sherlock quickly walked through, checking every room before he came back. "All clear?" You asked, only mildly serious.

Sherlock nodded as he looked at the locks on your doors. "You should look into getting better security, I could pick these in my sleep."

"Noted." You said softly as you watched him check your windows. "Sherlock." Not reacting, you spoke louder. "Sherlock."

Turning at the sound of your raised voice, he watched you closely as you walked up to him.

"What is bothering you so much? It's not just that you don't know who the partner is. Is it- are you...worried about me?"

"You seem surprised by the prospect."

"Well, you've not really shown this much concern for me before, at least not this noticeably."

"Yes, well..." He let out a huff of air, seemingly unsure of what to say. "I may- I may blame myself, for what happened to you."

"Why?" You asked with a concerned frown.

"I told you to check the apartment. Alone. I was not thinking of your safety as much as I should have been, and you got hurt. I will not neglect to keep you safe this time."

"So it's not that you are worried, its that you feel guilty? Sherlock we were doing our job. Getting hurt tends to happen sometimes. It wasn't your fault. None of us knew he was going to be there. I don't blame you, so you shouldn't either."

"But I do." His voice was louder as emotion became a bit more obvious in his face. His eyes paused on your cheek, where a bruise was still evident.

You felt your body freeze as he reached up, his fingers hovering over your face where the bruise was, before he moved a strand of lose hair from your face, his fingers grazing your skin softly as he did so.

Seemingly realizing what he was doing, he pulled his hand away and cleared his throat. "I will find the partner. I will."

You smiled softly, and spoke in a soft voice. "I know you will."

His eyes slowly moved to meet yours. "I wont let them hurt you again." His voice was almost a whisper.

"I believe you."

"I-" He began, but stopped, unsure if he should speak.

"What is is Sherlock?"

He crinkled his nose as he thought, before he swallowed, and met your eyes. "I find that... I have- that my...feelings towards you are changing, and have been for some time. And I'm not quite sure...what to do with them."

You took a deep breath, as you tried to steady your heart. "It's alright to feel Sherlock. And whatever you decide to do with your feelings...I'll still be here."

"And if I decide to....embrace them?" He asked softly.

"I wont reject you, if that's what you are afraid of."

He bounced lightly on his feet as he thought in silence for a moment. "I have thought for quite some time that you had feelings for me, but I wasn't positive if maybe I was just projecting."

"You weren't." You admitted.

He nodded his head as he locked his eyes with yours. Taking a step closer, you held your breath, his face not far from yours. His eyes grazed over your features, as he brought his hand up, and again, gently caressed your face. "Then I will...embrace them. I want to."

As various emotions seemed to rocket through you, you nodded your head softly, and smiled at him.

His lips quirked up a bit, as he slowly leaned forward. His lips hovered in front of yours for a moment, brushing ever so lightly, before he leaned in completely. His hand cupped the back of your head as he deepened the kiss, embracing the feelings he had once pushed away.

For the moments, the thoughts of the case, of the partner, were gone from your minds. But Sherlock's determination to keep you safe would remain, well past the closing of this case.

xx End xx

I think I hate this. lmao. idk, I just had a lot of trouble getting it down into words. But I hope you guys like it <3

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khorazir · 2 years

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Sherlock just before his ink treatment for another of my Inktober pieces. I just have to be careful not to dip the pen into my tea instead ...

#sherlock #sherlock fanart #drawing #ink #pencil #inktober #sherock graphic novel #graphic novel #wip

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my-shipper-heart-beats · 7 months

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Would You Like To Solve Crimes

ao3: here and fanfiction: here

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4.1 part 4.2 part 5 part 6

~~~~~

Molly sighed as she poured hot water into her teacup. It was the six-month milestone. After their final outing, she and Sherlock would go back to their old routine. There would be no more excursions to the country, no more adventures with bees, no more trips to the museum, no more dinners, no more late-night chats. They would just go back to the way things were before. She would go back to being his lab assistant. Suddenly, she was struck by a horrifying thought. What if Sherlock didn’t even want to go back to the status quo? What if Sherlock felt they could no longer continue their professional relationship either?

Molly refused to let herself fall deeper into that rabbit hole of thought. Why would it matter if that’s what the detective chose to do? She had been doing just fine before he waltzed into her life, and she would do just fine if he chose to waltz right out of it. Rather than worrying about things she had no control over, the pathologist decided to focus on planning a night she and Sherlock could enjoy together. A night that, should they never see each other again, would be enough for her to think of their time together fondly and without regret.

~~~~~

Sherlock let out a frustrated huff as he paced about his flat. Why was he feeling this way? He and Molly had agreed that it was best that they not have any further contact outside of the professional confines of the lab. He should be happy with that arrangement. It was what he always wanted: a professional relationship with one of the most brilliant minds in the pathology field, no messy personal feelings involved. However, if this was such a perfect arrangement, why was he filled with dread at the thought?

Molly had always been a fine assistant in the lab, but, recently, they have been getting closer. So close, that Sherlock was beginning to realize that there was so much more to her. Her value was far more than what she offered him in the lab. Yes, she was one of the smartest people he knew, but she was also kind and compassionate and feisty. She was his perfect foil, keeping him in line when he needed. Going back to the status quo would simply not do. How could he change that?

~~~~~

Sherlock was a bit surprised that Molly had asked that they meet in the lab at St. Bart’s for their last meeting. Why would she want to spend their last day together in the only place they would see each other when this was all over? Still, he made sure he arrived at the lab early and waited anxiously at the lab bench. He was fiddling with a beaker of blue liquid when Molly entered. The detective carefully placed the beaker on the counter, ignoring the fact that his hands were shaking with the anticipation.

He cleared his throat. “Running a bit late today, Dr. Hooper.”

“It’s not even five minutes past our agreed upon time,” she retorted after hastily glancing at her watch. “But I’m sure you are just in a hurry to get this over with so we can move on with our lives.”

“What do you have planned for us today?” Sherlock asked, pushing down the hurt he felt at her words.

He looked over at the pathologist and saw her pull a few file folders from her bag and carefully arrange them face down on their workstation. She had a look of concentration on her face which he had grown accustomed to, maybe even grown to appreciate. He thought it rather amusing the way her brows would furrow and her nose would scrunch and her lips would curl down ever so slightly while she worked methodically to complete the task at hand. Realizing the direction his thoughts were going, Sherlock shook his head, as if to shake those thoughts from his head. Molly looked up at him after arranging all the paperwork.

“Well, first, you need to choose one of these files,” she encouraged, pointing at her handiwork.

He looked at her quizzically, eyebrow raised. The detective reached to turn one of the folders, but the pathologist quickly put her hand out. For the briefest moment, her hand grazed his, and Sherlock felt a jolt run through him. Far too quickly, she pulled away.

“Don’t peek,” she said quietly, a little hesitantly.

Sherlock surveyed the folders before him. Molly had taken a lot of care to arrange them so he had no way to see their contents. There were five in total lined neatly in a row each with varying amounts of paperwork. What could she possibly have in store for their last day together? He tentatively ran his fingers across each before deciding on the one that in the center of the line.

“Do I have permission to look now?” he said in a tone that seemed somehow deeper than his normal timbre.

“Take a look,” she said with a nod.

Molly looked excitedly at Sherlock as he opened the folder and flipped through the pages. His face was unreadable. She suddenly felt uneasy. What if he didn’t like what she had planned? What if he thought she was silly and childish for thinking this was a good way to spend their last date together? She reached to grab the folder out of his hand.

“Dr. Hooper, I may be a genius, but even I can’t read that quickly,” he said with a smirk.

His weak attempt at a joke put Molly a little bit at ease. It seemed like Sherlock was in a good mood, which boded very well for the day ahead of them. She wanted to enjoy what could be the last time they would ever see each other.

“So, what do you think?” the pathologist asked in a measured voice.

She wished she could read what was going on in the detective’s mind. His face was entirely inscrutable, and that drove her absolutely mad! If only she knew what that crease in his brow meant or that slight purse of his lips. They had gotten to know so much about one another in the last six months, yet there was still so much more to learn. Molly felt a pang in her heart as she realized it was likely that they didn’t have much more time left to learn more.

“Well, it appears you have complied a very thorough case file of the murder of Robert Pakington. I am curious to see what exactly you have planned for today,” Sherlock said, his eyes sparkling in a way that made Molly almost believe he was excited.

“I was thinking we could spend the day trying to solve the first ever murder committed by handgun in London,” she explained.

“Dr. Hooper, it almost seems as though you chose this outing with me in mind,” he said with a stupid smirk that reminded Molly why she found him so insufferable.

“Mr. Holmes, you seem to forget I also make a living solving crimes,” she countered.

“Well, how do you suggest we solve a centuries old murder?” Sherlock was very interested to hear what kind of sleuthing the pathologist had planned for them.

“I figured we’d just poke around a historical site or two, maybe review some old documents,” she replied with a shrug. “Nothing too crazy. What could possibly go wrong?”

~~~~~

Molly rounded the corner of the building and into darkened alley. Sherlock was hot on her heels. He was quite surprised at how quickly the petite pathologist could run. She was about to turn into another alley when Sherlock grabbed her arm and pulled her with him behind a stack of boxes that had been piled by the back door of the noisy pub they had just passed. He held her close to ensure their hiding spot would not be compromised. They strained to listen for the lumbering security guards that had been chasing them.

After a few minutes, they were satisfied that they had managed to evade capture. It was only then that Sherlock realized that he was holding Molly rather close to himself. He would never admit it, but he rather enjoyed the way he felt pressed up against him. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to catch her breath, the beating of her heart as it pounded from the adrenaline coursing through her, the warm of her embrace as he realized that she was holding to him rather tightly as well. Before Sherlock could admit to himself that he rather enjoyed the position in which they found themselves, Molly pulled away.

“Well, this certainly isn’t going as planned,” she whispered with a slight giggle.

“That seems to be the theme of all of these little dates,” Sherlock agreed, a hint of humor in his voice.

Molly’s heart fluttered just a bit at hearing him referring to their monthly outings as dates. She very quickly squashed that feeling deep down. She mustn’t let herself get swept up and allow herself even a glimmer of hope that Sherlock might have actually enjoyed their time together and think of them as dates. It was simply a slip of the tongue brought on by excitement of their little excursion.

“Who would have thought our trying to solve a murder that happened almost 500 years ago would end up with us being chased out of the British Museum by some angry security guards,” she panted, still winded from their sprint through London.

“Well, they are known for the theft of many priceless artifacts from other countries, so it’s a bit of poetic justice that we stole a little trinket from them,” Sherlock replied as he procured the alleged murder weapon from his coat.

It was a rudimentary firearm, large and unwieldy by today’s standards. After turning it over a few times, it became rather obvious that any sort of evidence that may have been on this weapon had been long since lost. Why had he even suggested this outing? What did he think he was going to do with a centuries old weapon that had obviously not been cared for proper to retain any sort of evidence?

If he was being honest with himself, Sherlock had just wanted to extend the time they took on this case. It had been obvious to him within a few minutes that they would not be able to solve this case with the sparce information they had. Still, he had suggested that they visit the sites all over town that the victim may have visited on the day he was murdered to recreate his last day. He had recommended that they take a trip to several libraries and small bookstores to search through the archives for any clues as to who may have had motive to kill him. He insisted that they go to the museum to inspect the gun used in the murder to see what they could glean from it. When it seemed as though they were going to hit a dead end and their evening was drawing to a close, he had the bright idea to simply take the pistol for further examination at St. Bart’s. It seemed like a great idea at the time, but now, after narrowly evading capture, it definitely seemed pretty stupid.

“Has the great detective made a discovery?” The sound of Molly’s voice drew Sherlock from his musings.

She looked up at him with a gleam in her eyes that told him that she was teasing him. Suddenly, it dawned on him. Molly was a very smart woman, brilliant even. She must have known from the research she did when compiling the case notes that there was little to no chance that they would solve this murder, yet she had gone along with everything Sherlock had suggested. She had happily followed him around town all day trying to crack an impossible case. She had even helped him cause a distraction to allow him time to steal the pistol. Why would she do that? Was it possible that she was enjoying herself just as much as he was?

“Unfortunately, it would appear that time and mishandling has rendered any potential evidence useless,” Sherlock replied.

“So, we committed a felony for no reason?” Molly’s voice rose a bit. He would have thought she was angry if it wasn’t for the grin on her face.

“No worries, I’ll just have Mycroft return it tomorrow,” Sherlock said with a causal wave. “What’s the point of having the British Government for a brother if he can’t help you sweep a little theft under the rug?”

Molly chuckled at that. Having a high-ranking government official for a brother must come in handy for a man like Sherlock, who seemed to view laws a mere suggestions. She wondered what other kind of trouble the detective got himself into.

“Well, I guess this means that this little “date” has come to an end.” Molly made sure to put that word ostensibly in air quotes to show how silly she thought it was and how she definitely did not see this as a date.

“Indeed,” Sherlock agreed with a stiff nod of his head. “It’s a shame we didn’t manage to solve the murder.”

The pathologist couldn’t tell if he was disappointed that they hadn’t cracked the case or that their adventure was over. If she didn’t know any better, Molly would have thought Sherlock sounded almost sad about it. But she did know better. She knew that the great Sherlock Holmes was known to be stoic and emotionless. There was no way he was feeling the same heaviness in his chest as she was feeling.

“I should get going then,” she said in a tone that she hoped sounded natural. “We’ve been at this much longer than I thought we would, and I have an early day tomorrow.”

“I should walk you home,” he blurted without thinking. “it’s my fault we were out so late, and if someone from the British Museum comes after you, I should be there to explain the whole situation.”

Sherlock cringed at himself as soon as the words left his mouth. He didn’t know why he wanted to walk her home. He just knew that he wasn’t ready for their night to end. He had to come up with an excuse and that was the best he could come up with. He realized it made it seem as though he didn’t think Molly could handle herself. What if he had made her mad? That is not how he wanted to end their last date together. He looked at her and saw that she was shaking her head at him with a slight smile on her face.

“While I’m sure I would handle myself perfectly well if that were to happen, I wouldn’t mind the company,” she countered in a bemused tone.

~~~~~

“All we have to do now is talk to Mycroft, and we can move on with our lives.” Molly’s voice came out as almost a whisper. “We can pretend like this never happened.”

The two of them stood in front of her building. There was a tension in the air that neither of them wanted to acknowledge. Neither of them wanted to think of whatever was going on between them. Neither of them wanted to consider what the future held for them. Neither wanted this night to end.

“Like this never happened,” he repeated, almost to himself.

Sherlock fought the urge to say more, to say that he didn’t want that. He didn’t know what he was feeling, but he knew that he didn’t like it. He didn’t like that he had grown fond of the petite pathologist. He didn’t like that she had seen him vulnerable. He didn’t like that it was all coming to an end.

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” Molly said quietly. “Goodnight, Sherlock Holmes.” She quickly turned around and entered the building without waiting for his response.

“Goodnight, Molly Hooper,” Sherlock responded to the night.

#sherlock #sherlolly #molly hooper #sherock holmes #fanfic #mine

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