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bakerstreethound · 4 months

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To Another Year

Relationship: Sherlock x lestrade!sibling reader

Warnings: mentions of fireworks, alcohol, Molly makes the briefest appearance, slight hints of jealousy, and Sherlock is a little grumpy

Summary: When the party for the new year begins at 221B, you reflect upon your year and the many blessings it's given you - that one of a new family, both blood and chosen.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT copy, repost, claim, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 1.09k+

A/N: Happy 2024 everyone! Let's hope it's a good one. University has had me in a whirlwind this past semester and up to this winter course I'm on the tail end of. I hope to continue writing and posting more stories about our beloved detective. I know this is a few days, almost a week short of the new year, but it is Sherlock's birthday, so this works as a two-for-one gift. I sincerely hope you enjoy it. As always comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated. Huge shoutout to @strangelockd for beta reading and helping with the title! Graphic by @firefly-graphics

Mrs. Hudson rushed into the room, a bottle of champagne in one hand, the other holding a tray of sweets balanced precariously on the platter. You smiled, making your way over to help before John shoved you aside, taking the platter from her in stride.

“Let me get that for you, Mrs. Hudson, ah yes these look swell!” John grinned, and you rolled your eyes, joining him as he popped a brownie in his mouth.

You chuckled, biting into one as well, letting the warmth coat your tongue and suddenly you felt like a child again. “Oh, Mrs. Hudson you’ve outdone yourself truly. These are fantastic!”

She chuckled while pulling out the glasses, clearing the table in the kitchen from the remnants of Sherlock’s experiments you’d cleared away, but somehow mysteriously popped up again.

You groaned in exasperation. You couldn’t remember the last time the kitchen, or the table for that matter had been clear of experiments or Sherlock’s current fixations.

“Say, where is Sherlock?” John asked, taking another brownie from the tray.

You shrugged, taking a sip from the champagne Mrs. Hudson handed you. “I haven’t the faintest idea. If he had any plans he didn't tell me.”

“Since when does he ever have plans other than dragging us along on cases?” John nudged you playfully and you sighed.

“Sherlock always likes to go off and run around without regard to us,” Mrs. Hudson pipped in, taking a sip from her glass.” But that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun without him. Surely he’s bound to show up.”

“Oh, I’m sure he will, he’s been on a few holiday cases up in Cardiff, from what Greg has told me,” you smiled. Speaking of the devil your phone buzzed and you moved with John and Mrs. Hudson to the living room where you promptly seated yourself in Sherlock’s chair, John following suit in his own while Mrs. Hudson sat on the couch you’d pulled closer to the chairs.

You pulled open the text from your brother, your smile widening. Greg’s message was a selfie of him hauling a grocery bag, likely offerings for the party accompanied by an “on my way!” and a profuse apology for being late as Scotland Yard refused to close at a decent hour.

Well, a decent hour for Greg would be five, so he could sleep earlier and be to work at an even earlier time. Between the both of you, you’re more the night owl.

You take another sip of your drink, watching as John set up festive music on the telly, and opening the curtains where you were met with a rich dark sky littered with stars, the moon glowing softly. You admire the sight and you can’t imagine anything better than this or anywhere you’d rather be.

Your phone buzzed again, met with another text from Greg. Make sure to keep Sherlock in line.

Thanks, Greg, you think. If you had any idea where he was you would be sure to do so as he was your significant other. Yet communication on large cases tended to hinder his whereabouts.

Pretty sure John will do a fine job once we find out where the hell Sherlock went, you shot back.

“What’s this Grantham wants?” Sherlock burst through the door in all his glory, his beautiful Belstaff billowing around him as he fiddled with his phone. Joh chuckled, rolling his eyes at the absurdity and you huffed in amusement.

“Wonderful to see you too my dear. Welcome home!” You rise to greet Sherlock but he’s over next to you in an instant pulling you in for a hug.

You fall into him, sure that Mrs. Hudson is giggling in a corner sending a meaningful look to John. You don’t care in the slightest, not anymore. Sherlock was always yours and you are his, despite the doubts you had from time to time through the years.

“Oi, come on you two lovebirds is this a party or what?” Greg beamed, patting John on the shoulder, raising a glass to Mrs. Hudson. It didn’t take him long to find the drinks, you chuckled to yourself, pecking Sherlock’s cheek. “Also, my brother's name is not Grantham. You should know this by now.”

“Smart girl that one is,” Greg said, “yet she gets herself involved with the likes of Sherlock. I’ll never understand it. The Lestrades like danger over stability it seems.”

“Oh knock it off you all,” Mrs. Hudson admonished. “At least take a few more drinks and at least eat. I bet you all haven’t eaten since lunch, and likely skipped breakfast as well.”

You cast her a look, for she knew you all too well. “Of course, Mrs. Hudson,” you pulled yourself from Sherlock’s embrace even though it was agony to do so, your mind screaming for you to pull yourself up against him and drown in his kisses and warmth.

You quickly give your brother a hug and Greg grinned good-naturedly as you squeezed him tight. It’d been weeks since you’d seen him given the business of the holidays.

It was nice to finally settle down without the impeding stress of work and other responsibilities, relinquishing yourself to the relaxation amongst friends and family. It was why you cherished moments such as these and when you hugged Sherlock again, ruffling his curls, as he grumped, but you knew deep down he enjoyed it.

******

Soon enough you’re all full of champagne, a filling meal, and in generally good spirits. Molly made a chance to stop by, too, and you pulled her into a warm embrace. She blushed in the dim light, not expecting it from you. You couldn’t blame her for having a crush on Sherlock all those years, but your mutual jealousy between you had faded with time and you’d come to enjoy her company.

You hand her a glass, eyes shining in mirth and at that moment you know you’ll be alright. With your found family and kin in the room, all felt right.

Perhaps the year would be a good one after all.

You found Sherlock in his chair observing the quieter atmosphere as everyone settled, talking quietly. You noted the way his fingers tapped on the chair impatiently and you carefully situated yourself in his lap, setting your half-empty glass on the side table.

From the window, fireworks light the sky in all their glory and soft cheers ring through 221B. You brush your lips against Sherlock’s, and he welcomes you into the dawn of what hopefully will be one of the best years in your memory.

******

#sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes fanfiction #happy new year 2024 #bbc sherlock #benedict cuimberbatch #my writing #my alleyway

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sherlollyandspoilers · 1 month

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Undercover

Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2024, Day 3 Trope : Fake Dating Barely proof read this, so sorry for any mistakes lol, enjoy!

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Sherlock, I said no.”

“Molly, you agreed to this.”

She stared at the man sitting across from her, annoyance radiating through her body as she stared at him. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “I am not dancing with you.”

Clearing his throat, he stood up and straightened his jacket before walking around the table to extend his hand out to her. “Yes, my dear, you are.” He stared down at her, a mask of control. “Molly,” he dropped to a whisper, “this is the best chance for us to be close to the masterminds…it’s for the case.”

She huffed out a sigh through her nose and dramatically slapped her hand into his, rising to her feet.

“Fine. But only for the case.” She fixed a soft smile on her lips and allowed herself to be led to the hotel dance floor.

“Remember, you’re in love with me,” he whispered, letting his lips graze her ear. “We need people to believe that.”

She shook her head as she gave a disbelieving laugh, her fake smile selling the “love” façade. “You’re ridiculous.”

“How so?” He kept his voice low and face close to hers, but his eyes remained locked on their targets.

“I told you I was done with this fake relationship stuff for cases…yet here we are.” She knew her anger towards him was only partially justified – she should have backed out as soon as he said the word fiancé – but being angry at him was easier than admitting to herself why she kept saying yes to him.

“You’ve enjoyed helping me with previous cases," he said as he continued to gently move them around the dance area. “I am not sure why this case is any different.”

She shook her head before resting her temple on his shoulder, looking away from him. “You know why,” she muttered, feeling tired.

Sherlock’s swaying stopped for a moment before he started moving again. “I assure you, I do not.”

She pressed her eyes tightly together and took a deep breath. Centering herself, she lifted her head, this time a genuine smile, although sad, sat on her lips. He looked at her, slightly taken a back by the abrupt change in demeaner. “What did you say the masterminds were looking for? Happy couples?”

“Delirious with infatuation and out of touch with reality, specifically,” he responded.

“Well then, happy we shall be.”

...

“My goodness!” The woman slapped the table as she giggled. “You two are just the most delightful creatures! Do you think we’ve met any other couples as delightful, honey?” she asked as she turned to the man on her right.

“No, you are right my dear. These two are some of the best people we’ve yet to meet here.” The couple shared a look that was not missed by Sherlock or Molly. “I say, we would love to have you two join us tomorrow night for a special gathering we are having.” He slid a card across the table to Sherlock. “9pm.”

“We’ll be there!” Sherlock took the card and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

“Sounds lovely!” Molly nodded in agreement.

“Well, looks like we should be turning in.” The man gestured to the clock on the wall. “Honey?” He held his hand out as he stood and she took it.

“Oh, yes.” She smiled brightly at Sherlock and Molly. “I look forward to seeing you both there tomorrow.”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Molly said, only letting the smile drop from her face after they were out of sight.

“Come on.” Sherlock stood and ushered Molly back to their master suite.

“I think that went well,” Molly said once they were back in the room as she started to take off her heels.

“What did you mean when you said, you know why?” Sherlock’s question caught her off guard and she struggled to not slip as she worked her heels off.

“Sherlock…” she trailed off, not sure what to say as he stared at her. Finally, she shrugged and sat on the end of the bed. “You know, I just had a long week and this case was kind of bad timing.”

“No.”

She gave him a questioning look.

“Last case…I kissed you while we were undercover.” He took a couple of steps closer to her.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“But I’d done that before.”

“Yes.” She shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

“And those didn’t bother you.” He moved so he was standing directly in front of her and she had to tilt her head up to look at him.

“Sherlock?” She was unsure where his line of questioning was going.

“This kiss was different because…” this time he trailed off and she could tell he was replaying that night in his mind.

They had been colleagues turned friends for a long time, but Sherlock didn’t often open up about his private life and on that case he had. She had then shared back and something had shifted between them. And while she had always enjoyed kissing Sherlock, even just for pretend, this kiss felt different. The next week she told him she could no longer be his undercover dating partner.

Dropping to his knees, he took her hands in his. “It was different because…I was different?”

She nodded silently. He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off. “It wasn’t that you were actually different – you were still Sherlock. But you were Sherlock who let me in…which you so rarely do.”

His eyes flicked to her lips and he hesitated a moment, before leaning in and kissing her. It was soft and gentle but still made her head rush and when he pulled back, she smiled brightly at him. “I’ve always liked kissing you,” he admitted. “When you told me you couldn’t be my undercover dating partner anymore, I am ashamed to admit the disappointment I felt at the idea of no longer having an excuse to kiss you.”

He captured her lips again and kissed her soundly until both their hands were tangled in each other’s hair. Breaking apart, Sherlock slid into the spot on the bed next to her before kissing her again. And again…and again.

When they finally broke apart, Molly spoke, “Maybe we don’t have to pretend to be together anymore.”

#sherlolly #sherlollyweek2024

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ohifonlyx33 · 1 year

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Sooo, i have been sick for the past week during the peak of my sherlolly renaissance, and I may or may not have gotten it stuck in my head that I absolutely HAD to make a vid of them with a specific song (coming soon to a YouTube near you). Like it would not stand. My mind would not rest. I have thought of nothing else.

So I decided to download all 4 seasons of Sherlock and go through the episodes clipping every sherlolly scene or minor reference, as well as looking for more context clues and applicable character moments or themes.

And the one that I picked up on was the invitations to join one another for food or drink. This theory wouldn't work in every case, or necessarily mean the same thing in every case... however it works with Molly.

John and Sherlock have dinner to establish their friendship. And Irene Adler clearly doesn't want to just "have dinner" when she texts Sherlock... in fact I don't think she wants food at all. But in Molly's case it's love she's hoping for... a relationship.

It starts when Molly innocently asks Sherlock if he'd like a coffee. This sets up the theory, because "going for coffee" is Molly obviously asking Sherlock out for a date. Nothing untoward, but also not a platonic request.

But although this is clearly meant as a romantic invitation, Sherlock dismisses the subtext, and takes a coffee with 2 sugars. He also tells Molly in season 1 that digestion slows him down. Neither food nor romance are acceptable distractions... at this point he only barely tolerates friendship, and even then it's got to be useful to him.

Cut to Moriarty being "back" and Sherlock bringing Molly snacks and stealing her from her lunch date so she can help him.

Then Molly tells Sherlock he looks sad when he thinks no one can see and that she doesn't count. He looks surprised that she sees all this, but admits to nothing and denies nothing.

Anyway, she offers to help Sherlock if he ever needs anything at all... ("but what could I need from you?")

At the end of that conversation, she declares she is getting chips... and asks Sherlock if he wants anything before remembering that of course he doesn't.

Subtext in that scene seems clear to me that shes talking about more than just the chips she offered... Molly is offering him her help, loyalty, and compassion... And even her love. Even though she knows he won't reciprocate, she offers. Just as she's offering him chips she knows he won't eat.

And Sherlock starts to say something, but Molly turns heel and leaves, because of course Sherlock doesn't want anything from her. She insists that he doesn't, even when he starts to interject. She's convinced herself that Sherlock won't accept food... or anything more.

But it's interesting because he was thinking about it. Sherlock actually tries to stop her from leaving with "well, actually, I-" ...even though he's on a case! Molly's invitaton to him appealed.

And of course, later we know he takes her up on the REAL offer for help... and what he needs from her is simply her. ;)

Now cut to Molly and Sherlock working together in season 3 when John is out. Sherlock invites Molly to 221B and asks if she would like to solve crime, while Molly thinks he's going to ask her to dinner. Again she's still looking at their interactions in the context of romantic possibility. He's still prioritizing the case, but sees her as someone he can turn to.

Well, at the end of the day, Sherlock actively asks if she wants to get chips with him. Does he mean it as a romantic invitation? Maybe not fully... But the impression is still there because it's then that she finally confesses, and he knows that she can't do this because she's engaged (and if it's just chips with your old platonic friend, why would that matter?)

So yeah. They've been in this dance for a while.

#sherlolly #sherlock x molly #molly x sherlock #sherlock meta #sherlolly meta

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pennywaltzy · 1 year

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Pondlock, 2, green

So this prompt was "cold pizza," and I also used a 30 Day Writing Challenge for this "All Of Time And Space" fic ("Write about a girl's night"). I haven't updated this series in ages and it has a complicated backstory so please feel free to read the series from the beginning if you're confused.

A Feeling Of Normalcy - Sherlock walks in on a girls night in at Baker Street and finds he likes the normalcy, even if it is fleeting in the long run.

READ @ AO3 | SERIES PAGE

Sherlock let himself into his home to be greeted with the cheers of women and the smell of pizza. He grinned. Ever since Anthea’s return from traveling with the Doctor, she was around Amy more. Molly and Amy had become quite good friends despite Rory’s attempt to attack Amy, mostly because Molly was very good for Rory and the attack had been influenced by The Silence. Martha came round quite often as well, and from the look of blonde frizzy curls peeking around the corner, River was here as well. Sherlock got more situated into the sitting room and saw some other women there as well.

“Oh! Sherlock, we weren’t expecting you back yet,” Amy said, getting up with a slice of pizza in her hand. He saw it had green peppers and olives with extra cheese, her favorite. It looked cold, but she was eating it anyway. “It’s the World Cup, and I have the best TV and sound system, so we’re all here watching England vs Argentina.”

“Don’t mind me,” he said. “I can go back to John’s place and stay there for a bit.”

“No no no, join us,” Molly said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I want to hear about your latest case before I read about it on John’s blog.”

“Well, Lorna was there with us, providing us with military details that John was iffy on,” he said carefully. This case had UNIT ties, so Lorna was providing information on what Madame Kovarian had been up to, though the scope of what she knew had been limited. He’d been closeted with Kate Lethbridge-Stewart most of the day and Lorna had only been there for part of it, and then the both of them had gone to her and John’s home to have dinner and go over everything with John.

It was already beginning to be a headache.

But Molly was familiar with some of Lorna’s history, and how Melody had been kidnapped and rescued, so her eyes widened and she nodded. “I hope you solve it soon, then.”

He mouthed “thank you” to Molly and the squeezed in next to Amy on the loveseat. It was a tight fit with River there, but he didn’t mind. “Anything interesting going on in your life, River?”

“I met a new man, and we’re living together,” she said happily. “In Darillium.”

Sherlock’s heart sank. The next time she’d see the Doctor after that she’d be lost to them all, though he had the idea she could still pop up from time to time; there was so much he still couldn’t fathom about his daughter in her adult form no matter who tried to explain it. It was one of the few things he’d freely admit he didn’t understand.

“One night last twenty-something years,” Amy said, leaning into her husband’s space to whisper in his ear. “And this new man is an older regeneration of the Doctor. Or a newer one who looks older. Caught a glimpse of him dropping her off. He reminded me of you.”

A small smile settled on his face. That was some good news, at least.

A cheer went up among the women as England scored another goal in overtime. He knew soon everyone would leave and River could tell him more, and he could go into details about the case with Amy and the others, but in the meantime, it was nice to have a modicum of normalcy in his life. Made for an interesting change, and a nice one, to boot.

#sherlock #doctor who #wholock #pondlock #fanfic #fanfiction #my stuff #sherlock holmes #amy pond #molly hooper #river song #30 day writing challenge #afteriwake's 25th Anniversary Prompt-A-Thon

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classickook · 2 years

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you don't know him like i do | sherlock holmes

pairing: sherlock holmes x gn!reader

summary: you're sick and tired of constantly hearing insults thrown at sherlock about how he handles his emotions.

warnings: kissing, two dumb idiots in love!, (i tried to make the reader gender-neutral but please let me know if i missed anything).

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i recently started watching bbc sherlock and fell in love with the character (i know i'm like centuries late in starting the show oops) and really wanted to write something for it. ignore any inconsistencies or if the characters seem super ooc, i'm new at this lol.

you’d been at sherlock’s side for months now. ever since he solved a serial murder case that would’ve gotten you killed next, if he hadn’t figured it out just in time, you’d been practically attached to his hip ever since—helping him with cases as best you could, tidying up the flat and running quick errands, handing him his phone and reading his messages out loud to him (when he was perfectly capable of doing so himself, damn him). but you didn’t complain. in fact, you felt honored to be of any assistance to the spectacular sherlock holmes and john watson. you had fun in joining them—running through the city, chasing criminals, solving mysteries—it felt good, making yourself useful and doing something for the greater good. it was dangerous, yes, but you’d never experienced this much adventure in your life, and you couldn’t be in better company. so you were thankful to sherlock—to him saving you, and to him giving you this wonderful opportunity and friendship.

so, of course, you were irritated when others didn’t see sherlock the way you did; beyond frustrated that they hadn’t perceived his character how someone (you) who truly knew him would do so. it had taken you just under six months to develop a great friendship with sherlock, so how was it so difficult for his coworkers who had been working with him for years, relying on him for his genius to fix their problems and solve their worst cases, to appreciate him? it grated on your nerves and, frankly, you were over it.

it took one more snide remark from donovan, something about how emotionless and cold sherlock could be, that really put you over the edge. you snapped, to put it bluntly.

“he cares a great deal more than any of you will ever understand. you think he’s so cold? a machine, was it?” you ask, directing your glare at donovan. “you don’t see it, do you?” your gaze meets the others gathered in front of you—lestrade, anderson, mycroft, some familiar faces you’ve seen milling about scotland yard. you’re angry, fuming even, that nobody seems to appreciate sherlock the way you do. john, of course, and mrs. hudson and molly, sure, but it seems as though sherlock has barely a handful of people in his corner. after all he’s done, all he’s put himself through, to help those around him—solving cases, putting his life on the line, bringing forth justice—and he gets nothing in return but sneers and snide remarks.

“sure, he may process emotions differently than most of us,” you continue, “reacts in somewhat peculiar ways to the common eye, ways we may not understand. and because of this, you think he’s unlovable? unapproachable? inhuman? does that automatically give you all the right to criticize his every move and judge him regardless? i can guarantee that he cares more than any of you realize.” your cheeks feel damp and you become aware of the fact that you’re crying. normally, you would be embarrassed for being so vulnerable in such a public setting. especially your coworkers—if you can even call them that—of all people. but, truthfully, it’s about damn time someone put in any effort, show even an ounce of respect or sympathy toward sherlock. “he’s a great detective and an even better man,” you say, letting the tears flow freely. “but you just don’t realize that, do you? he is, without a doubt, the most incredible man i have ever met, and i consider it a privilege to know him. but you can’t accept that, can you? arseholes.”

john suddenly clears his throat next to you, pulling your attention toward him. he tilts his head off to the side, directing you to the tall figure standing in the corner, messy curls and popped collar making him immediately recognizable, to your dismay. you drop your head. now’s the time to feel embarrassed, you think to yourself. you never would’ve thought sherlock would walk in during your outburst and defense of his character. of course, you don’t regret it whatsoever, you meant every word you said. but for him to witness it? heat creeps up your neck and into your cheeks, and you pray that no one can tell how you’re reacting to his sudden presence, but you know it’s useless.

sherlock approaches your accusation circle, everyone quickly pulling back and making room for the consulting detective, gazes flitting from one person to the next. sherlock pays them no mind, his footsteps quick and sure, until he’s standing right in front of you. your eyes are glued to his scarf when a nimble finger tilts your chin upward, and you’re staring into sherlock’s blue gaze. oceanlike, you think. pretty.

you’re surprised when he presses his thumb to your cheek, collecting a fallen tear and staring oddly at the wetness coating his fingertip. his blue eyes are curious and inquisitive beneath furrowed brows. always the detective, you bemuse to yourself. always looking for clues. suddenly, that look disappears and he’s looking at you thoughtfully, the creases around his eyes softening. “don’t waste these on me, my dear,” he says, voice deep yet gentle.

your heart pounds beneath your ribcage at the term of endearment. it was meant to be endearing, right? you panic internally. what if you’re connecting dots that aren’t even there and jumping to conclusions, just to make an even bigger fool of yourself. certainly, at this point, everyone is sure to know how you feel about the detective. if your sudden outburst wasn’t enough, you probably have hearts in your eyes now.

a grin stretches across sherlock’s face and you know that your reaction hasn’t gone unnoticed by him. typical. can’t hide anything from the man, you think sourly.

“while i certainly appreciate you defending my character,” he begins, “there’s no need to fret and most definitely no need to cry. not over me,” he says the last bit with an ounce of remorse in his tone. your heart cracks, knowing how hard he is on himself, how judgmental he is even of his own character, let alone how others respond to his peculiarities.

his large palm rests against your cheek and then adjusts slightly, just enough to cup the back of your neck securely, intimately. you feel safe in his hands—hands that are strong enough to pull the trigger of a gun, yet gentle enough to pluck the strings of his violin.

sherlock isn’t usually handsy, per se. you start to wonder why the sudden display of—affection, is it?—when he leans forward and presses his lips to yours. his lips are slightly chapped from the brisk winter air but they’re soft and warm against yours. never in a million years, although you certainly dreamt it, would you have thought you’d be kissing sherlock holmes—the world’s best (and only) consulting detective, and your greatest friend. he’s holding you so securely, tilting your head a fraction to deepen the kiss, tongue meeting yours until you’re practically making out in a scotland yard conference room with an audience, but you couldn’t care less at this point.

sherlock pulls away and you unconsciously follow his lips with the movement, not wanting to stop just yet. god, you could kiss him for hours, you think unabashedly. you vaguely hear gagging noises coming from anderson, but you tune him out, your full focus directed at the man in front of you. the unruly curls atop his head have become even messier, if possible, and his cheeks are flushed and his ears are red. it’s so endearing to see him like this, you feel a laugh bubble up inside you.

“what?” he asks, a tinge of self-consciousness creeping into his tone, and his hands slowly fall from your neck to rest on your shoulders. “why are you laughing? normally in a situation like this, the other party wouldn’t be laughing, correct? or am i doing something wrong? i haven’t received complaints in the past, although there was this one time—”

you tug on the lapels of his jacket and pull sherlock in for another kiss, cutting off his rambling spree as his arms wrap tightly around your waist. “i like you, idiot,” you mutter against his lips.

sherlock's breath catches slightly, just barely noticeable, but then a peculiar glint reaches his eyes. “i suppose i am expected to say that i like you, too?” he teases.

you gasp in mock hurt and the two of you erupt in a fit of laughter, the air around you bubbly and light. his laughter dies down but he's still smiling at you. “i do like you,” he says, earnestly, “truly. i adore you, my dear.”

your audience had departed from the conference room just moments earlier to allow for some…privacy, with john shaking his head at you two in amusement as he closed the door on his way out. “about damn time.”

#sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock x y/n #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes fic #sherlock holmes fanfic #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock fic #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock imagine #benedict cumberbatch

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afishlearningpoetry · 3 years

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Looking Closer at How The Abominable Bride Foreshadowed and Can Be Used to Chronologically Decode Series 4:

In TAB, Sherlock imagines Hooper being openly hostile to him in his dream, doubting his abilities, insulting John, and joining the league of brides as one of “the women we have ignored and disparaged.” Sherlock thinking of Molly this way is consequential of the way that he’s treated her throughout the show, ignoring her feelings and sometimes her well-being because he can’t return how she feels. The last time he saw her in HLV, she was incredibly with angry with him and had just broken off her recent engagement.

In series 4, there is no corresponding exchange – instead, Molly’s demeanor and relationship with Sherlock goes unaddressed and even regresses. John’s story writes Molly in a way that undoes all the progress that Sherlock made in his dream, shrinking her presence in TST, downplaying her impact on Sherlock in TLD, and dwindling her down until the worst moment for her character in the show, the false love confession.

John knows how Molly feels about Sherlock; the difference in how she’s characterized demonstrating just how vastly apart Sherlock and John’s perspectives are, and how both of their different narratives mirror each other.

[Continue below the cut for more ➤]

See also: Shout out to “Something Borrowed, Something Blue” by @shinka... 10 Revealing Things From The Six Thatchers That Haunt You Late At Night, 10 Revealing Things From The Lying Detective That Haunt You Late At Night, and 10 Revealing Things From The Final Problem That Haunt You Late At Night. (#tw addiction)

Bonus: Engagement, substitute.

When John finds Sherlock in the midst of a relapse in HLV, a month after John’s wedding with his bags packed, his first instinct once he drags him outside is to check if he’s even telling the truth. He immediately doesn’t believe that Sherlock is telling the truth even though he’s clearly on his mind. John replays their exchange in ASIP, “Want to see some more?” Oh, god, yes,” as he sleeps next to his wife. When he wakes to find a friend at their door, he immediately assumes that she must be looking for Sherlock, and Mary expresses her annoyance at John being obsessed with him when she’s right there. “See? That does happen.”

This ends up being a frequent theme throughout TAB and series 4, and the events of HLV in relation to how the show uses Molly. The Molly, in progression, from HLV to TAB to series 4 are three different versions of the same character, which tells us a lot about what each scene means.

In TAB when Sherlock asks who’s on duty at the mortuary, Lestrade says “you know who,” and Sherlock complains about it always being him. Him and Molly keep running into each other because of his work and in their personal lives. This case is work after all, but it’s also of personal interest to Sherlock. The problem is that he can’t ever return her feelings and mistreated her, and she’s had a hard time moving on from him, even when she tries to find someone else, he just looks like Sherlock. John points this out with a look. He has the same issue and all, him and Molly are in the same boat and mirror each other.

In HLV, Sherlock doesn’t want to go to the lab, he just wants to keep working on his case, but john takes control of the situation and calls Molly. He treats the indulgence with such disdain, “Because Sherlock Holmes needs to pee in a jar,” like this is what his life has come to. He’s ready to bolt out on his marriage a month after getting married, including the honeymoon, and he’s biking to work. He showers and gets changed there. He attacked Billy moments ago in the house. No one wants to be in this situation, but he’s about to drag Molly into it the same way he was dragged into finding him in the first place. They’re both constantly pulled to Sherlock and resent it, even if they’re in love with him.

In TLD, John is ready to call Molly again in order to check if Sherlock is lying. This is one obvious way that John is recycling previous stories in writing his coverup, like repeating The Six Thatchers story again after already having a blog entry about it, but it also bears character significance. John knows he can rely on Molly to see through his bullshit when he can’t. He assumed that Sherlock was lying last time but he really did relapse. For some reason he does the same thing here; why would he assume Sherlock is lying again? About him relapsing while working on a case? After they haven’t spoken for some time? That last one is John explicitly lying because they have communicated with each other; John sent him a message through Molly and Sherlock tries to call and visit him, but that just draws more attention to John repeating stories that have already happened. It doesn’t make much sense outside of John being so paranoid he thinks Sherlock is willing to lie to him about literally anything. He also imagines that Sherlock would be able to predict he’d call Molly, which adds another layer of paranoia that Sherlock could be manipulating John through.

John in series 4 also identifies Molly as one of his “substitutes”, using the color red, like he explains in TST: "That is... me. Well, it's a me substitute.” While everyone in series 4 is a mirror of John, because he’s the other, a few characters are very clearly more important mirrors, and Molly is one of them.

As @shinka explains in “Something Borrowed, Something Blue”...

And regarding colors that Molly wears:

Let’s not forget the most important John’s Mirror, Molly, actually wearing bright red twice in TST. We are supposed to notice her too, being the only one wearing this red. You don’t make her this visually important without a reason.

[...]

John does this with Eurus too. He marks Molly with vivid red for being a special mirror, and the use of the red jumper during the false love confession scene is very important.

When Hopper and Sherlock meet face to face in TAB they’re openly hostile with each other off the bat. The hostility isn’t necessary how Molly feels in reality, not entirely, but rather Sherlock both expressing his guilt at how he’s treated her despite her feelings and also imagining how must she must resent him after everything he’s done. He even imagines slandering Hooper’s work for no other reason then he needs a small justification to be hostile in response. After what happened last time they met, Molly’s anger is at the forefront of his mind.

John asks if Sherlock is clean in HLV and Molly replies exhausted, like he can’t see the obvious, “Clean?” She didn’t want to be dragged back into Sherlock’s life to begin, and here everyone is packed into their lab so John can know if Sherlock is lying to him when he looks like this already. He asks it almost casually, like he doesn’t realize the enormous strain that it was for him to ask this of Molly to begin with. In contrast, Molly is waiting outside the door in TLD unbothered, where she’s brought to him instead of him going to her. Sherlock stumbles by her completely off and she doesn’t say anything in response. The frustration and guilt that Sherlock magnified on in his dream is initially, completely absent in John’s story. This is because John is missing that perspective, but also because since Molly mirrors him, John is trying ot downplay how serious this is for both of them. John was also just yelling at him inside. The public also doesn’t know about the events of HLV and doesn’t have reason to think anything different about Molly’s reaction.

Hooper in TAB insults Sherlock’s ego in showing off his intelligence, saying that he can leave anytime he likes. He also points out that there are “features of interest” to the case, something Sherlock says in his story all the time which John insists, but isn’t true. Sherlock has only used “feature of interest” once in the whole show, and that’s when referring to John, “There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in the whole of this baffling case, and quite frankly it was the usual. John Watson – who, while I was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life.” John helped Sherlock focus on the issue at hand – and later in the episode he recites the same thing to himself, don’t solve the murder, save the life when talking about the Mayfly Man coming to the wedding to murder Sholto. Sherlock ignores Mycroft as he focuses on John. “John Watson, you keep me right.” So Molly is calling his attention to the bride in that sense. It’s not about solving Ricoletti’s case that’s important, or figuring out how Moriarty is back – he knows he is, he admits later in the episode his body was never recovered – it’s about choosing to save the life instead of solving the murder. And because the Ricoletti case is also about trying to predict the future and ties into the Carmichael case, it means that Sherlock has to catch up and realize what his subconscious is trying to tell him if he wants to save someone’s life. Not just Mary’s, out of fear for breaking his vow, but also John’s. Sherlock slaps himself in TSOT as he comes to the realization of what the wisdom of that phrase means to him.

In HLV, Molly slaps him. Hard. Three times. John watches in shock each time as Molly demands that Sherlock apologize to his friends. Sherlock responds by sniping her failed relationship, “Sorry your engagement’s over – though I’m fairly grateful for the lack of a ring.” John is standing right there with his own failed relationship, and Billy deduces later in the scene just how bad it is. Molly says, “Stop it. Just stop it.” Sherlock doesn’t listen to her at all – he deflects his guilt and exits the scene by focusing on the case again. Later in the episode, he’ll remember what Molly did and recreate it in his mind palace to get himself to focus on not dying, saving his own life, in order to protect John from Mary. Molly as a mirror helps Sherlock focus on John, “Why indeed, John?” but it comes at a ghost of hurting Molly’s feelings. Neither of them are going to get out of the relationship unscathed until they address the elephant in the room.

John continues to downplay this in TLD – now Molly is acting more meek and massively less concerned with Sherlock relapsing then she did before. All she has to say about Sherlock using again is “are you sure?” Molly would know right away that it was true, because she was in this situation last time, but John uses Molly as his mirror to have a quick dialog with himself. “No, of course I’m not sure,” and asks her to check it out like did last time. She already dropped her afternoon to plan on coming here and she gets in the ambulance. Again, John is doing this on purpose, but there is also a lack of perspective on his part, or at least a big difference in how Sherlock and John filter the lab scene.

Hooper says to John, “Isn’t he observant now that Daddy’s gone?” This means a few of things in Sherlock’s dream, including that Sherlock is aware that John and Molly downplay their feelings around him, that John downplays himself on his own blog (“I am happy to play the fool for you”), and also what John says next, “I am observant in some ways, just as Holmes is quite blind in others.” John provides a crucial perspective that Sherlock lacks, including that he’s aware of how Molly still feels about Sherlock, because he shares the same feelings. By extension of Sherlock’s guilt, Molly helps him focus on certain parts of the case that trouble him.

This is what happened in HLV – Molly is the first one to appear when Sherlock’s mind goes into emergency after being shot, pulling a sheet off of Sherlock’s body as he lies on a slab. She slaps him again and tells him to focus, bringing his attention to saving his own life instead of letting it be a murder. Sherlock later connects him being in the morgue briefly here to Ricoletti in the morgue, which is why Molly is there in both instances, and why he also has her mention there being features of interest.

John carries this motif through in TLD, when John asks what his condition is (again) and Molly says, “I’ve seen healthier people on the slab.” Sherlock counters by saying she usually works with younger people who are murder victims, when he was the one who was actually murdered by Mary, the last time he was on the slab. Molly is deeply frustrated with Sherlock again and says the has weeks, but she doesn’t slap him again, and her response doesn’t really feel like a continuation of the last time they had this conversation – rather it feels like she’s just going through the motions, which is doubly contradictory when his life is explicitly more in danger then before. She says “I’m stressed, you’re dying!” and then just turns away from him like she’s nearly given up on trying to help him. Everything about how they interact in series 4 makes it very clear this was written from John’s perspective. It’s missing not just Sherlock’s perspective in this TAB scene, but the realization he comes to by the end of the episode.

Sherlock and John find Mary about to discover the heart of the conspiracy, and they go in to see that the abominable bride has become a league of brides. Vengeful women who target men with justice, killing Emelia Ricoletti’s abusive husband, killing Lady Carmichael’s predatory husband, and the woman that populate the crowd are filled with familiar faces. For Sherlock, those two faces include Janine and Molly. Sherlock used Janine for access to Magnussen, manipulating her into a relationship, and has used Molly’s expertise and resources for even longer. He doesn’t always mean to because he’s so isolated, but he has specifically used her before for the sake of his work, like in TBB when he says, “The – the style. It's usually parted in the middle. It's good; it, um, suits you better this way,” because he needs her help. Or in ASIB when he deduces her at the christmas party until he realizes the gift is for him and genuinely apologizes. Sherlock knows that he’s betrayed her trust and he needs to make amends to her. “We must certainly lose to them,” Mycroft says earlier in the episode. “Because they are right, and we are wrong.” Molly needs to move on from him and he needs to help her do that. He also needs to be open about his feelings with John, so he can move on too and they can stop making things hard for each other, especially for Molly.

Later in HLV, Molly says that she’s put her engagement because they both need the space. Aside from reacting to Moriarty returning at the end of the episode, this is the last time that we’ll see the real Molly. Like John, her relationship has ended with them not living together anymore. Molly was engaged in TEH, the same time that John proposed to Mary. By the time jump in HLV John and Mary haven’t spoken in six months and have been living separately from each other. Molly is still stuck at this point like John, and it’s clear in series 4 that we’re not seeing Sherlock’s real interaction with her, because their relationship has clearly regressed to her doing whatever he needs whenever he needs it. Even if you skipped from HLV to series 4, it doesn’t make any sense. And what happens next is worse.

Sherlock manipulates Molly into telling him he loves her by lying about loving her back. In John’s story this is one of the darkest moments for him, as an author and emotionally in how he feels, calling back to the subway scene where Sherlock manipulated John into nearly admitting that he loves Sherlock, but as a character this is Molly’s crisis point and the lowest point in her character arc. For the first time we see Molly in her home, and we see from her perspective (written by John) what it’s like emotionally for Sherlock to call her out of the blue and demand her help while ignoring what she’s going through. She’s even wearing the red jumper she had on in TEH when she was helping Sherlock and he called her “John”. John is repeating how he ignored Sherlock’s calls just two episodes earlier, but emotionally it rings true to John’s version of Molly in this story. She begs him to stop, to leave her alone, to just stop, but he asks her repeatedly, and she inevitably agrees to what he wants, but only if he says it first. John is being more honest than he is for most of series 4. This is really how he feels and how he might react, just filtered through her. Sherlock thought he was saving her, but he destroyed her.

Sherlock: Eurus, I won. I won. Come on, play fair. The girl on the plane, I need to talk to her. I won! I saved Molly Hooper!

Eurus: Saved her? From what? Oh, do be sensible, there were no explosives in her little house. Why would I be so clumsy? You didn't win, you lost. Look what you did to her. Look what you did to yourself. All those complicated little emotions, I lost count

John writes Sherlock destroying the coffin in rage for what he had to do. And this is the last we see of Molly until the very end, where she shows up at Sherlock’s flat, smiling and completely fine. Completely unaffected.

Sherlock acknowledges by the end of TAB that he needs to do right by Molly and they need to move on from each other, and then nothing like that happens, nothing even remotely resembling him even trying to make that happen. John’s story doesn’t include that resolution, and so he writes Molly from his own perspective as is necessary for the story, rather then her behavior being a natural continuation from HLV, which the general public knows nothing about. The love confession is worst thing about it, a false catharsis of character and plot threads that’s meant to feel wrong because it is wrong, because this shouldn’t be happening to Molly and Sherlock should be telling John the truth instead.

But he doesn’t, and the harm blows back on Molly instead. In the end she’s still in the same place she was the last time we saw her in HLV, similar to John; still in wake of a relationship gone wrong, still hung up on Sherlock. She hasn’t grown in series 4 because no one has. Because no one is allowed to as long as Mary watches over the silence in the ending montage.

The final moments in the ending of TFP is the biggest lie of them all, and like Mrs. Hudson spraying the flat to cover the smell, it’s one small element that adds up to a giant coverup.

#sherlockedit #tjlc #tjlcedit #sherlock bbc #molly hooper #sherlock holmes #meta #edits #series 4 #john as the author #mirrors #the six thatchers #the lying detective #the final problem #series 3 #his last vow #the empty hearse #looking closer at tab timeline

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luxwritesfanfic · 3 years

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Definitely Not Your Color

In true Sherlock fashion, he shows you exactly why green isn’t his color. Or, the one where reader can read auras and Sherlock is going through it at the sight of her new friend. AU!Bucky makes an appearance because I can’t live without him. Enjoy!

Sherlock Holmes/Reader

You were stood off to the side of the crime scene recounting your conversation with the last witness of the night. There had been yet another murder and Lestrade had requested Sherlock’s help for what seemed to be a serial killer in the making. Two murders in less than a week and Sherlock was thrilled and it was easy to tell. An array of yellows and subtle oranges surrounded him, engulfed him, as he explained how vacant Scotland Yard truly could be and how quickly he had figured out the killer’s M.O. He shined like the sun, and you swore you saw tendrils of sunlight shoot off of his fingers as he analyzed every aspect of the scene before him. All confidence, he paraded around the crime scene in a way you knew so well, pointing out things that even after working with him for months that you wouldn’t of picked up on. He was happy to be working again, to be playing, no, winning the game once more.

You were thankful no one else saw his colors like you did. Because as sure as you were that he was what they meant when they said, “let there be light!”, you were sure that others would gravitate towards him even more until it got to a point that there was so much in between the two of you that you would only be able to see his shine from between the cracks of other people.

Pulling you out of your thoughts of Sherlock and things that you couldn’t control, you turned your head at the sound of someone’s throat clearing.

“He’s seriously brilliant.” An officer who you hadn’t recognized before stood behind you, holding his cap in his hands and drumming his fingers along the rim. He looked past you to where Sherlock and John were, a laugh slipped out from under his breath. “Makes it look so easy.”

Your lips twitched at the statement, a warmth you knew too well for your liking spreading around you. If anyone else could see you, really see you, you’d surely be figured out. Sherlock Holmes was a great man, you were sure of it. He was as intelligent as they came and as handsome as the devil, and sure— sometimes he could be rude, and maybe a little ignorant, and sometimes you really wanted to slap the smirk off of his face when playing Cluedo (Because, Sherlock, it can’t be the victim!) but you wouldn’t change him.

They told you not to stare at the sun but you couldn’t help it. You needed to see what was really there because you refused to believe that a man who couldn’t feel a thing made the world look that vivid. You were the moth and he was the flame and if that meant dying a painful death just to bask in everything that he was, so be it. Evidently, there were worse ways to die.

Stealing one last glance like you couldn’t help yourself, you shoved your notebook and pen in your purse and made your way back to your conversation.

“He really is. You’re new, right? Lestrade mentioned he had some new guys joining the force. Can’t say you didn’t have an interesting first week.” You wanted to lighten the mood as much as you could because you knew this wasn’t an easy crime to see. You still couldn’t look at the body too long yourself without feeling the black sit heavy in your stomach.

“Don’t worry ma’am, I can handle it.” As if he read your mind, he gave you a warm smile and nodded. “My father, he, uh, he was an officer as well. Started me with the bad stuff early. Said it would give me a little more character and a lot more advantage. There’s not too much that can scare me away, I don’t think.”

You returned his smile. He was a cool blue, and it matched his eyes perfectly. It looked good on him, you decided. “Good. London needs all the help that we can get. Oh- I’m Y/N, by the way! I work with Sherlock and John sometimes. I’m not a genius or a doctor but I can take damn good notes.” And at that you both laughed, as he reassured you that the boys would have nothing to study from if it wasn’t for you. In turn it made you laugh even harder when you realized he hadn’t got the chance to see Sherlock visit his Mind Palace yet, where everything you could offer him he already had.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m James, but I hardly ever use my government if I don’t have to. Please, call me Bucky.” He reached his hand out to you and shook yours, that boyish smile never leaving his lips. From behind you, you could tell subconsciously that it had gotten significantly darker. Like a light had went out. You didn’t think enough of it to turn around and investigate it.

---

You found it was easy to talk to Bucky and you had more things in common than you could have expected. He was polite and seemed to have seriously believed that you were an integral part of the team that he needed to get to know. You appreciated his kindness and how friendly he was, and it seemed like more than anything he was grateful you were giving him a chance to belong. You couldn’t figure out why.

It just so happens that from the angle you were looking, you saw Sherlock’s shoes before you saw his face. It looked like moss had grown through the concrete and saturated him so thoroughly that you thought he wouldn’t soon be able to move. It made you uneasy how sickly the green made him look. You had never seen this color on him before.

“If I knew all you were going to do was stand around and disregard everything I say, I would have brought Molly instead. She listens. Intently.” Sherlock spat and cut his eyes at you before looking to Bucky and giving him a once over before digging in.

“Generally, they say to try again and again if you fail. I would think that wouldn’t apply to something like the police academy. Third, no... fourth times the charm as they say?” The green fog spilled out of Sherlock’s mouth and continued to cover him, wrapping so tightly around his body that you thought he might have trouble breathing. Even though you were standing a few good feet away from him, you could feel how heavy the fog had made you, and you worried for Sherlock as it encompassed him. You almost made to reach for him because you were afraid you’d lose him under all the smoke.

“You’re a favored drop out who still lives with his mother, no, father. That’s where the drinking problem comes from I assume? One failed relationship too many and now suddenly your calling is keeping the streets clean of the people you used to run them with. Now, I know Lestrade has horrible taste when it comes to putting together a team but tell me, how did he get so lucky as to stumble across you? It can’t be the... no wait, it is because of-“

“Sherlock!” You say exasperatedly, looking at him like he’s he’s got three heads when you can’t even see the one he’s got as it is. He is solid and dark and lost in this feeling that you can’t name and he’s not him. Well, he is him, but weighed down so much by whatever he’s trying to carry through that you can’t imagine he’s acting this hateful for no reason. You refuse to believe it.

Bucky sighed and somehow still managed to twitch his lips upwards, a ghost of the grin he wore before. “Well, Mr. Holmes, you are what they say you are. Brilliant for sure. Hell, you haven’t even spoken a word to me prior and you know my life.” You were shocked to see Bucky’s reaction, most people would of blacked out on Sherlock for an outburst like that and this one definitely warranted it. “You’re right, about all of those things. I guess I’m just trying to play the best game I can with the hand I was dealt. I’m not one for feeling sorry for myself.” He straightened up and fastened his cap back on as he caught eyes with Lestrade and returned a knowing nod.

Turning to you, Bucky grinned as if it never phased him, like he had grown used to being talked down on. The blue never left him and that made you happy. You didn’t want him to feel bad.

“Goodnight, Y/N. I look forward to speaking with you again. Mr. Holmes.” With that, he bid you both a good night and headed towards his team.

“Sherlock,” you murmured when you turned back to face him. The fog was so dark that you couldn’t make out his features anymore. You felt the fear creeping up your neck while you were trying to figure out what was so wrong with him. “What’s wrong with you? I figured you’d be happy that you practically solved the case...?”

You saw it, he had been happy. And then you remembered his earlier comment about Molly. Maybe he wished she was here instead to celebrate his win with him.

“Listen... if this is about Molly, you know you can always ask her to tag along instead. I don’t want you to feel... obligated to invite me. She’s probably more useful in a situation like this anyway.”

You felt yourself internally deflate as you spoke, but you were able to make out Sherlock’s face once more under the city lights. The green began to thin out. He must’ve been relieved at your confession, you thought.

Sherlock visibly tensed for a second before quickly masking it under an air of nonchalance.

“I could care less about Molly or what she’s good for. All I care about is the work and that it gets done. You know that.”

You watched as time passed and you could start seeing more of him. You realized you’d been holding your breath for some time waiting for the green to dissipate and set your detective free. Sherlock was back with you, and whatever feeling tried to take him away from you was lost now. That’s all that mattered.

And, of course, because there were still pressing matters to finish attending to, your moment with Sherlock didn’t last long. You swore something had changed within him. Something you couldn’t name just yet.

You weren’t totally quite convinced that whatever had happened between you two back there wasn’t about Molly, or some strange feeling that Sherlock was having that he’d surely never talk about. Even still you continued to follow after him wherever he asked you to go, as he still always asked you to go.

And if he happened to stand a little closer to you the next time you worked alongside Scotland Yard, you were none the wiser.

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miniherodesktales · 2 years

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Best godparents ever

Sherlock: Molly, I can’t get Rosie to stop crying. Do something.

Molly: No, I can’t! I’m studying, you know that. Have you tried singing to her? She loves music.

Sherlock:...No

Molly: Well, then off you pop. I’ll know if you succeed when I can start to hear my own thoughts again.

Sherlock: (mutters) I don’t know any lullabies.

[2 hours later]

Molly: Aw, she’s fast asleep. The singing worked then?

Sherlock: Yes, the singing worked. I had to dig deep into my memory to find the right song, but yes it worked.

Molly: In that case don’t delete it. We may need it again.

[2 weeks later]

Molly: Please stop crying! Daddy will be home soon! Sherlock, quick, what was that song?

Sherlock: The Cuckoo Song!

Molly: Right, good, The Cuckoo Song.....What?

Sherlock: The Cuckoo Song. It was very popular in the 13th century. My father used to sing it to us.

Molly: Of course, I forgot you were raised as a medieval lord. Why don’t you do the honours?

Sherlock: Ahem. Sumer is icumen in, loude sing cuckoo! Groweth seed and bloweth meed, And singeth the wode now! Sing cuckoo.

Molly: I’m not sure it’s working...

Sherlock: You have to join in. It’s the earliest example of a round we have.

Molly: What?

Sherlock: Rosie’s upset that you’re not participating, Aunty Molly. Come on, now. Sing cuckoo!

Molly: Sing, cuckoo...?

Sherlock: Sumer is icumen in

Molly: Sumer is icumen in

Sherlock: loude sing, cuckoo!

Molly: loude sing, cuckoo!

Sherlock: Groweth seed and bloweth meed, And singeth the wode now!

Molly: Groweth seed and bloweth meed, And singeth the wode now!

Together: Sing, cuckoo, sing, cuckoo!

[Two years later]

Nursery Teacher to John: She doesn’t know any nursery rhymes...

John: Oh, well, no, but I have been -

Nursery Teacher: Which is normal, of course.

John: But maybe I could work on teaching her -

Nursery Teacher: It very impressive that she can sing in Middle English. We can’t understand most of they lyrics, but the rest of the class do love the Cuckoo Song

John: The what song?

[Ten Years Later]

Sherlock to Rosie: And that’s why we are the best godparents ever. You were well ahead of the other toddlers.

Rosie: Yeah, I hate that song now.

[Forty Years Later]

Rosie to Sherlock: Do you remember the Cuckoo Song you and Aunty Molly used to sing to me all the time? I’ve never forgotten it. Maybe we could we sing one last time? I’ll lead.

Sumer is Icumen In: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B2Tk1JseYkU

It’ll stay in your head always :D

#sherlolly #sherlolly fanfiction #molly/sherlock #Molly Hooper #Sherlock #rosie watson

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nettlestonenell · 4 years

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Enola Holmes in Review

Gentle Readers:

1. I did not plan to watch Enola Holmes

2. I do not/have not watched Stranger Things, and my entire concept of Millie Bobby Brown as a human is encapsulated in the occasional errant tumblr post, and a line of eyewear she apparently has created, posters for which hang at my glasses-provider.

3. I had never heard of the YA novels about Enola Holmes

There she is!

Yes, I do tend to enjoy nearly any incarnation of Sherlock Holmes. And, yes, I am often surprised by this fact. For some reason, Holmes, unlike, say, Chris Evans as Cap or Chris Hemsworth as Thor [instances where I can’t really imagine enjoying anyone else in the role] I am always interested to see someone else’s [writer and actor and director]’s take on him. *Subtle shout-out to James D’Arcy’s 2002 turn in A Case of Evil.

Mr. Jarvis! [and there was Vincent D’Onofrio and opium!!]

And yet, watching the Enola Holmes trailer [no doubt b/c of tumblr], and yes, admittedly not unmoved [we are not made of stone] by Cavill’s Curls™ the delight I felt in watching that advert led me to start informing my family that on September 23rd what I was going to be doing was enjoying Enola Holmes on Netflix [and anyone else was free to join me].

Someone important is missing from this picture

And what a delight it was. In the run-up to its debut I read more than a few reviews of the film [and, I think, every one of them written by men], some of which struck me as simply coming from a place of mean-spiritedness, yet none—even the positive reviews—preparing me for how ENJOYABLE this film is.

I’m not going to provide a full review point-by-point here, b/c the film involves cases to be solved (no, none of them are overwhelmingly complex—YA novel--, so all the more reason not to spoil any pay-offs). But I do have some things to talk about.

THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM – And what a nice, nice elephant it is! Henry Cavill as Holmes is, in my opinion an absolute delight of a performance. From the moment he first says Enola’s name (a perfectly-rendered reaction to the moment playing out) this Holmes fits into this Greatest Showman-like version of Victorian England, where no one’s too dirty no matter how poor, and where despite a flaming red dress, cut too low for daytime wear, young Enola is never once mistaken for a working girl. [Again, YA novel] As other reviewers have noted, HC is, well, Cut and Bulked Out, and in his highly tailored frock coats well, strapping is too light a description word. *not a complaint. Cavill’s Curls are out and proud and here to tell us that we are meant to be Having Fun, and Gentle Readers—THEY DO NOT LIE.

No, not a priest’s collar where he is undercover (though I had thought so)

In fact, you could absolutely write your thesis statement on this film, that it’s really a fraternal, familial love story between Sherlock and Enola. Sherlock is the character during the two hours that actually changes. [Yes, Enola comes to an understanding about herself, and her circumstances change repeatedly—but it is Sherlock who experiences a Change of Heart/Reversal].

Raise your hand if you’re totally here for significantly older brother/significantly youngest sister family love!

HOW I WOULD DESCRIBE IT – This might in no way be helpful, but, Enola Holmes is basically The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles...

Where have you gone, Sean Patrick Flanery?

a YA historical storyline that’s written adjacent to [there, famous people] here, enduring fictional characters. It’s adventurous and pleasantly immersive, historical morays are given a slap-dash portrayal, rather than a fully-accurate representation, there’s adventures to be had, and side-characters to be converted into caring about the title character as much as we, the audience, do.

LUCY HONEYCHURCH – Yes, that gorgeous girl from Windy Corner. The timeline doesn’t jibe, but I daresay Helena Bonham Carter (back in a corset—though she may have worn those for Bellatrix) as Eudoria Holmes *IS* what Lucy Honeychurch might well have become beyond A Room with a View’s end. Bonham Carter looks absolutely at home here (period films have sorely missed her! –she had a part in 2015’s Suffragette), and still wears the trappings of Victorian England like a second skin.

Not to mention that she now join my personal comfort-list of on-screen mothers with the likes of 1997’s Little Women Susan Sarandon and Cinderella’s Hayley Atwell.

FAMILY ISSUES OR PLOT HOLES?

It’s a fair question. There’s a lot going on in this plot, some of which...seem solvable. Why has it been so very long since the Holmes brothers have seen their own mother? And sister? How could the woman we come to know as Eudoria raise a Mycroft? [see also, Molly Weasley?] Why aren’t people who seem to care about Enola more engaged with saving her from all the dangers London throws in her way? Why does Enola accept several acts of violence aimed at her, why does she in certain instances Do What She Is Told? Rather than chalk these up to plot holes or convenient devices, I’m siding with the Holmes family being dysfunctional [who knows what dad was like? We’re certainly not told here].

[clears throat]

The conversations between Mycroft and Sherlock barely skim the surface of any subject they interact on. Classic dysfunction: distancing one’s true self from human interaction b/c keeping the peace supersedes all else.

Enola accepts certain treatments b/c if we really do watch her relationship with her mother, there is an element of something amiss—as I will declare the later abandonment shows. Enola is a child used to being elevated and celebrated on one hand, and shut out and isolated on the other. Her parent has informed her about so much, but essentially locked her away in a false reality, where Enola is not taken to see the world, nor taught how to interact in it (which is explicitly stated). Perhaps it is not so surprising that the Holmes’ brothers have not cared overly much for visiting their remaining family. And when repeatedly confronted with a minor child (and yet a child likely though old enough or about so, to be married off) being forced to endure things diametrically opposed to her will—the brothers’ reactions are stoic, the system they accept as to how life must be lived immoveable and morally right simply by its very existence.

MILLIE BOBBY BROWN – THE STAR – In what has to be an Emmy-nomination-deserving turn, MBB is nothing short of wholly in charge of the screen. She never overpowers the story. She’s as loveable as Sandra Bullock in While You Were Sleeping, and as ready for her closeup as Jennifer Lawrence in The Hunger Games. As another review mentioned, she handles the 4th wall breaks in such as way as we look forward to the next time she’s going to talk to us. We ache with her sorrow for her lost mom, and rage with her at the adults in her life choosing wrongly for her future—or simply not choosing at all.

A random observation, but one that feels important to me: her HAIR. Yes! They’ve managed to make a late Victorian-era film where the heroine’s hair looks like real hair that someone really styled (or in some scenes, didn’t). And yet, where the hair looks proper for the time. [wild applause]

COMPLAINTS: Well, in honesty there aren’t any. If you want to complain that there isn’t any dirt, that the evil of the world (I mean, c’mon, this is narrowly post-Dickensian London, here) is neutered, that the adults in question seem neither alarmed enough or emboldened enough at either their mother or sister being missing and possibly out of their depths in a dangerous society without protection, and in Enola’s case real-world skills--? Well, I’m certainly not going to disagree with you. This is YA Victorian London, after all, not Ripper Street. There is also neither a hint of or actual threat of sexual violence at any point in the film. But the lack of that has preserved us from having to sit through that, as well as no doubt lectures about how Enola’s virtue might be spoilt and she might become useful to no man.

The relationships are appropriate, too. Despite strides between Enola and certain adults in the film, by the time the credits roll they’re not showing physical affection toward each other (a move that would have seemed over-the-top), and teen relationships are shown progressing at a reasonable and mutedly awkward pace.

Now, Netflix, green-light me five more films (or more). There’s still a new version of John Watson to meet, after all!

#enola holmes #netflix enola holmes #millie bobby brown #henry cavill #helena bonham carter #SUCH A GOOD TIME!#universally well-liked!

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wipbigbang · 3 years

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2021 Round - Artists Claims (Round 2)

Round 2 of claims for artists are open! The second round will go this week and then I'll post a new round on Thursday, opening it up for thirds. Everybody spread the word! We have 70 story summaries below for you to choose from, and this round, you may choose 2 stories to do art for! Just use a different check in ID with each sign-up.

This year, art claims are working a little differently than in years past. We are using a google form to streamline things, which should make things easier both for you as participants and us mods. To claim a story, the form requires email, check in ID, and the identifying number of your first choice of story. Putting your top three choices is best in case your first or second has already been chosen. Please be sure you've read the FAQ before claiming.

Click here to claim a story!

BBC Sherlock #15 Title: Children Of Light, Children Of Dark Pairing/Characters Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, John Watson/Mary Morstan, Irene Adler, Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Anthea, Sally Donovan, OMCs, OFCs Rating: Teen Warnings/Tags: Mentioned animal abuse, character death Summary There are a series of murders going on that have a pattern, and Sherlock sees glimpses of it but can’t fathom it completely. But Molly realizes it’s reminiscent of an unsolved case her mentor had told her about, where the murders were based on a series of fantasy novels that Molly herself adores. Sherlock asks her to use her knowledge as a pathologist and a fan of the series to help him figure out both sets of murders, and in the process Molly gets quite a bit more than she bargained for. BBC Sherlock/Agents Of S.H.I.E.L.D/Marvel Cinematic Universe #17 Title: Playing The Game: Act II – Knights & Knowledge, Romance & Regret Pairing/Characters Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, background Natasha Romanoff/Clint Barton, background Jemma Simmons/Leo Fitz, past Molly Hooper/Victoria Hand, Daisy Johnson, Antoine Tripp, Phil Coulson, Melinda May, Grant Ward Rating: Mature Warnings/Tags: Graphic Violence, mentioned past major character death Summary After tracking down Phil Coulson and his team, Molly and the others join him on their hunt for Grant Ward so that Molly can get retribution for Victoria’s death and Nat and Clint can further Fury’s assignment to help deal with all of the escapees from the Fridge. But as things get more complicated with the appearance of the Diviner and all the entails, Molly begins to wonder if she will ever get her end goal of Ward disappearing in a deep dark hole where no one can find him. BBC Sherlock/Midsomer Murders #18 Title: Every English Village Has Its Secrets Pairing/Characters Past/Pre-Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade; Tom Barnaby/Joyce Barnaby, Sally Donovan/OMC, Gavin Troy, OMCs, OFCs Rating: Teen Warnings/Tags: Character death (no major characters), murder Summary When Greg and Sally get called to Midsomer County for a case, right from the start Greg knows it will be a headache when Mycroft offers him lodging (so long as he's alright with his former lover being his housemate for his time there), and it doesn't get much better when he meets DCI Tom Barnaby and immediately their Detective Sergeants take an instant dislike to each other when Sally arrives the next evening. And that isn't even getting into the actual case itself and all the secrets hidden in the village of Elverton-cum-Latterley...

Star Trek: Alternate Original Series/BBC Sherlock #60 Title: To Fight For The One You Love Pairing/Characters Khan Noonien Singh | John Harrison/Molly Hooper, OMCs, OFCs Rating: Mature Warnings/Tags: Graphic Violence Summary Something is peculiar about his flatmate, Molly Hooper. In a new world where nearly everyone has a superhuman ability of some sort, Molly seems...different. And she arrives home early in the morning all beat up to Hell. What is she doing? Khan is determined to find out.

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floral-and-fine · 4 years

Text

La Doular Exquise

Greg Lestrade x female reader

Mycroft Holmes x female reader (but one sided)

A/n: Suddenly had this idea even though I haven’t written anything for Sherlock before, but since I’ve been spending so much time at home, I’ve been re-watching a lot of shows! Anyways, I really like the direction this story ended up going, I may write a part 2 :) (Also think it’s been a long time since I’ve played Charades so sorry in advance)

Thank you @luna-xial for the help with the title!

Summary: Greg Lestrade is in a new relationship with y/n, and to everyone, they appear very happy together and very much in love. Surprisingly, Mycroft finds himself longing for something similar.

“What’s wrong with Lestrade?” Sherlock questioned, staring at the inspector instead of scrutinizing the crime scene for clues.

“What do you mean what’s wrong with him?” John asked looking up from the dead body.

“He’s happy, very happy…” Sherlock muttered, narrowing his eyes. Slowly, he stood from his crouched position, no longer interested in the case.

“And that’s a problem?” John questioned in disbelief, he didn’t quite understand what Sherlock was getting at. “Also, shouldn’t we be focusing on what happened here?”

“Already figured it out,” Sherlock stated, stepping over the body, trying to get closer to Lestrade. “Isn’t it obvious?”

John looked at the scene before him, dead body on the ground dressed in a mascot costume, the man had somehow managed to drown despite not being anywhere near water and his costume was still completely dry.

“No it’s not,” he said, throwing his arms up in frustration.

For a few brief seconds, Sherlock observed Lestrade closely, before a smirk formed on his lips. “Aha!” He laughed triumphantly. “Gordon’s been dating someone… a woman… considerably younger as well.”

John shook his head, “how can you tell?”

“Well, for one the dramatic change in attitude, plus telling by his clothes and hair he’s taken a new interest in his appearance, typical of those in a budding relationship.”

“And how do you know she’s younger?” John pressed.

“See how he keeps checking his phone,” Sherlock pointed out. “He’s using a messaging app used by young adults, rather than middle-aged men.”

“So?”

“So,” Sherlock elaborated, with an eye roll, “he smiles like an idiot every time he gets a new message, hence, that's how he and his new girlfriend are communicating.”

John watched as Lestrade checked his phone again, pulling it out from his jacket pocket when he assumed no one was looking. He really did smile like an idiot, grinning from ear to ear as he quickly typed his reply.

“Good for him,” he said sincerely, John knew how difficult it could be trying to date, especially with a job like his. He deserved to be happy, especially after that nasty divorce he went through.

Tucking his phone back into his jacket, Greg noticed the pair watching him.

“Any ideas as to what happened here?” He asked, approaching them.

“Yes,” Sherlock said spiritlessly. “But it’s rather boring and dull, I’d rather talk about the woman you’re seeing.”

“Oh, you already noticed that?” Greg rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “We’ve only been out a few times, we’re not exactly official yet.”

“Are you concerned about the age difference?” Sherlock interrogated, not caring how rude it sounded.

“Sherlock,” John muttered trying to urge his friend to shut up.

Greg just laughed lightly and shrugged, “honestly, I thought I would be, but I’m not.” Another big grin appeared on his face just at the thought of her. “I’m quite surprised by it all.”

“Well, why don’t you bring her for Christmas, so we can properly meet her?” John suddenly suggested.

Sherlock groaned loudly, he had forgotten all about the holidays, completely forgetting that his parents would be visiting. . . .

Mycroft stood outside of his brother’s flat, enjoying a quick smoke, before joining in on the festivities. He could barely keep himself from rolling his eyes, if it weren’t for the fact his parents were expecting him, he wouldn’t have bothered to come at all.

He sighed, knowing that he couldn’t postpone this much longer. Eventually, his mother would track him down and he’d be scolded like a child for making everyone wait.

Just as he was about to put out his cigarette, a taxi pulled up to the curb, and a woman, who Mycroft didn’t recognize, stepped out of the vehicle.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, he knew everyone, and he literally meant everyone, his little brother was acquainted with. Rapidly, Mycroft assessed the stranger, she appeared relatively harmless, worked as a daycare worker or teacher perhaps. She dressed quite nicely and sensibly for the weather. Telling by the hair stuck to her jumper, she either had a cat or dog at home.

“Merry Christmas!” She greeted, waving at him cheerfully.

Mycroft nodded his head in acknowledgment, saying Merry Christmas back in rather bleak fashion. His eyes darted back towards the taxi as another person got out.

“Merry Christmas!” Inspector Lestrade waved.

The couple approached him, and Lestrade made quick introductions, “Mycroft, this is y/n.”

She extended her hand out, “Nice to meet, Mycroft.”

Mycroft took in several more details, before finally accepting her hand, like the shade of her nail polish to the choice of her shoes.

“Heard you’re smarter than your brother,” she complimented. “That’s pretty impressive.”

“I suppose,” Mycroft commented dryly.

“Well, we better go say hello to everyone else,” Lestrade said, nodding at Mycroft before taking y/n by the hand and leading her towards the door. The poor fool was smiling so big that it made him look completely mad.

“Aren’t you coming?” Y/n called out to Mycroft, her eyes filled with excitement before Lestrade knocked on the door.

“I’ll be up in a moment,” Mycroft said, taking out another cigarette and lighting it. . . .

As Mycroft entered the flat he noted that Mrs. Hudson and his parents were in the kitchen chatting away and preparing food. Molly sat watching Sherlock play violin awestruck. John and his date stood close by whispering to each other. And then there was y/n and Lestrade standing by the fireplace completely in their own world.

After saying a quick Merry Christmas to his parents, Mycroft sat alone on the couch. He wasn’t planning on staying long, just long enough that his mother wouldn’t complain about him leaving so early.

From the other side of the room, Lestrade groaned as his phone started ringing, giving his date a quick kiss, he excused himself taking the call in the hallway.

Y/n stood by the fireplace, her nails anxiously tapping against the side of her glass. Her eyes scanned the room until she spotted Mycroft sitting alone on the couch. “Mind if I join you?”

Mycroft nodded, scooting over a bit. He sat with his legs crossed, elbow resting on the arm of the couch with an umbrella in hand.

“Not planning on staying long?” She joked, gesturing to the umbrella.

Mycroft half smiled, “Just prepared to leave early, should things go awry.”

Y/n chuckled and continued to sip on her drink. They sat next to one another, in comfortable silence, while she patiently waited for Greg to return.

“Your brother plays very well,” she whispered, watching Sherlock who seemed like he was elsewhere mentally.

Mycroft was about to respond until he was suddenly interrupted.

“Sorry, love,” Greg said, abruptly re-entering the room walking towards y/n. “That was work, afraid I have to go in.”

“That’s alright,” she reassured him, standing up and wrapping her arms around his neck. “It can’t be helped.”

With that she pressed her lips against his, Lestrade was quick to return the kiss, placing his hands on her waist.

Mycroft found himself looking the other way, uncharacteristically bothered by the display of affection taking place before him.

“I’ll call you tonight,” Greg murmured quietly, before he reluctantly pulled away from her, and grabbed his coat. “Merry Christmas, everyone!” He shouted as he rushed out the door.

Y/n clasped her hands together, looking around the room, “Well, I suppose I should go too.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, dear,” Mrs. Hudson tutted, waltzing into the living area carrying a tray with tea. “At least stay long enough to have something to eat.”

“Guess I could keep Mycroft company awhile longer,” she smiled, taking her seat back on the couch next to him. “If that’s alright with you?” She asked him.

“Be my guest.”

The rest of the evening progressed full of merriment, food, drinking, and Christmas carols.

At some point, Mrs. Holmes started sharing stories about Mycroft and Sherlock from when they were children. Which everyone found quite amusing with the exception of her sons, who shared an unamused look as she continued to describe the time she found them covered in some type of slime after a failed experiment.

Mycroft risked a quick glance at y/n who was hiding her laughter behind her hand. Watching her react so lively made him smile to himself, not that it lasted long. As soon as he noticed, he returned to grimacing as his mother started another story, this one was about when. Sherlock had borrowed his clothes and pretended to be his big brother for a whole week. . . .

“Why don’t we play a game,” John’s date suggested.

After some debate, the group finally settled on playing Charades. Somehow Mycroft had been roped into being y/n’s partner. Although She seemed rather pleased by it.

“Merry go round!” Sherlock shouted, staring at Molly, and becoming more irate by the second. “Ferris wheel! Clock!”

“Times up!” John announced, sounding rather pleased.

“Well, what was it?” Sherlock demanded.

“The solar system,” Molly muttered quietly, handing him the card.

Sherlock scoffed, “Who needs to know anything about the solar system! This game is ridiculous! Utter waste of time!”

“Stop being such a rotten sport!” His mother reprimanded from the kitchen, where she was helping Mrs. Hudson tidy up.

“Well, Mycroft and y/n it’s your turn,” John said, holding out the cards to y/n.

Mycroft watched her movements intently, “a book, two words…” he furrowed his brow slightly as he watched y/n imitate the action of stabbing or perhaps using a spear? Then a subtle smile appeared on his face. “Moby Dick.”

Y/n bounced up and down clapping excitedly, “you got it!”

Mycroft chuckled, feeling rather pleased with himself, and for a brief moment, he had forgotten that you weren’t with him. That y/n wasn’t in fact his date. He had been having such a good time that it had seemed to have slipped his mind.

His smile faltered, feeling rather odd about whatever he was feeling, but he hid it well, especially as she showered him with praise.

As John and his date took their turns, the game seemed to fade into the background. In his own head, Mycroft was having a rather difficult time trying to process what he was feeling.

He didn’t understand at all what he found so agreeable about her, why her company didn’t aggravate him. Typically, he became at least moderately annoyed being around anyone for such a long period of time.

Y/n gently placed her hand on Mycroft knee, “are you alright?”

Mycroft quirked an eyebrow in response, caught off guard that she noticed a change in his behavior.

“You’re just somehow quieter,” she explained, tilting her head.

“It’s nothing,” Mycroft replied with a small smile. Even despite all the confusion he felt, he managed to enjoy the rest of his time with y/n.

Finally, the night was coming to an end. Being the gentleman that he was, he stood outside with y/n as she waited for a cab.

“I had lots of fun tonight,” she shared suddenly. “Thank you for including me.”

“Of course,” he nodded, once again smiling all of a sudden.

Soon the taxi approached, and Mycroft got the door for her. He felt a sinking feeling in his gut, he wanted her to stay just a little longer, or he wanted to join her on her ride home. However, neither option was appropriate.

“Good night, Mycroft,” she said, as she climbed into the backseat.“And Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, y/n.”

...

Walking into his large home, Mycroft removed his coat hanging it up on the rack and placed his umbrella by the door.

He didn’t understand why this bothered him so much. Mycroft had encountered plenty of other happy couples before, but none of them had ever left him with this feeling of jealousy and loneliness.

As much as he tried to deny it, he knew deep down he envied Lestrade, which for Mycroft, was a hard pill to swallow. Before y/n, he practically pitied the detective. But now the inspector had something that Mycroft wanted.

What was so bewildering about it, was that he had never wanted something like that before. He never cared for or wanted any type of companionship or relationship. It seemed so frivolous,

But now his mind wandered to the what if’s, such as, what would it be like to not come home alone.

Despite his better judgment, Mycroft gave into his imagination. The downside of having a mind like his is that was how he could picture things so clearly in his head.

He could practically see her now, slightly tipsy, clinging to his arm with one hand for stability as she removes her shoes. Then, he would hear the soft pitter-patter of her bare feet as she made her way to the bedroom.

Mycroft started to loosen his tie as he walked towards his room.

As he would enter, he would find her jumper and leggings strewn about on the floor. But instead of making it an issue now, he’d ask her to pick them up in the morning.

Mycroft headed towards his closet, undressing and putting on his pajamas.

As he would step back into the room, y/n would pop her head through the door of the master bathroom, with a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. She’d smile widely at him before finishing. “Almost done!” She would call out to him.

Mycroft turned out the light and climbed into bed. Despite having such a large bed to himself, he always slept on one side, never really spreading out.

He pictured what it would be like for y/n to join him in bed. She’d gently kiss him good night, before resting her head against his chest. He imagined what it would be like to hold her, feel the warmth radiating off her form, to caress her back in a soothing manner until she fell asleep.

Mycroft groaned loudly, rolling over and burying his face against his pillow. There was no point in indulging himself with these fantasies any longer. No matter how clearly he could picture it, this alternate life, there was nothing he could do to change his reality. She simply wasn’t his.

#bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #mycroft holmes #mycroft x reader #lestrade x reader #greg lestrade #mycroft fanfic #lestrade fanfic #reader insert #Female reader #bbc sherlock fanfic #mycroft holmes x reader #greg lestrade x reader

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write-place-write-time · 4 years

Text

Sharing It

[ Can be read as a sequel to “Keeping It” or as a standalone ]

“Mmm…. no.”

“You’re maddening.”

“No argument there.”

“That is also maddening.”

Molly sighed and put down her tablet, the medical journal she’d been trying to read for the last ten minutes a lost cause. “You’re both maddening.”

Her husband smirked behind his cup of tea, an eyebrow cocked over his reading glasses. “It is hereditary, you know.”

“Yeah, Mum. Uncle Mycroft is maddening, and I know Dad thinks Gamma and Papa are--”

Sherlock shot his gaze to their daughter in a mock-glare. “Shush. Gamma can likely hear you, even fifty miles away.”

“Which is what you find maddening,” was her sly response.

Molly reached for a piece of toast, a small grin on her face. Sherlock nudged her calf with his bare foot under the breakfast table.

“Dr. Hooper-Holmes, I’ll have you know you are maddening too. I’ll also remind you that you contributed the other half of the maddening genes we see in the creature at our table.”

“Creature?!” Another bare foot swept and nudged Sherlock’s calf, though harder than he’d nudged Molly’s.

Laughter ensued, as it usually did when Sherlock teased the girl.

“Darling, what prompted the maddening argument?” Molly asked her, nibbling her toast.

“I asked Dad if I could help with the Livingston case. DI Dimmock called this morning and will be here by noon.”

“And,” Sherlock interrupted, “I politely - yet firmly - said no.”

“Why?” both of his girls asked in unison.

Sherlock inwardly groaned. Twin pairs of heart-shaped faces and messy chestnut buns swung to look at him expectantly. The brown eyes were curious, but the eyes that mirrored his own in color and shape were full of challenge. A swell of pride and love rose in his chest but he beat it down so as not to look soft -- those challenging eyes were keener than his own and would see it and manipulate it with ease.

“Because it’s not appropriate--” he began.

“Fibber,” Molly smiled. “You don’t give a fig about being appropriate.”

Sherlock scowled, though without heat because she was right, of course. “Fine. Because she’s too young--”

“You were only nineteen when Uncle Greg first let you onto an NSY case!”

She was also right.

“Sherlock.”

He looked at Molly, her laugh lines a little more prominent, her own reading glasses perched atop her head. Motherhood and wifehood had not diminished her charm or her ability to see him. “Yes?”

She just smiled at him until he gave in and smiled too.

“Alright, is this going to be like when I came home early from the Watsons’ and learned what coitus interruptus meant?”

They both kicked their daughter under the table, who laughed and threw pieces of bacon at them.

“Artemis Charlotte Zephyrine Hooper-Holmes!” Molly chided the young woman. “You’re worse than your father!”

“Well you were getting all sentimental, something had to be done!” Artie (as she preferred because her full name was only for when she was truly in trouble with her parents) chuckled, crinkling her nose up at her mother. “We were in the middle of interrogating Dad about his lame reason why I can’t help with the Livingston case…”

Sherlock chewed the bacon she’d thrown at him, nodding to Molly. She could say what he felt.

“He doesn’t want to share you,” his wife said simply.

“Share me?” Artie stared at her father. “Whattaya mean?”

It was Molly’s turn to nod at him. He swallowed tightly and let himself feel. It was important, after all. “If you solve the Livingston case with me, it’ll be open range for the NSY to come to us both, then ultimately just you, for more cases.”

His daughter cocked her head to the side, a tic she’d developed early on when deducing something. Or someone.

“You’re not worried I’ll overshadow you or take over the ‘family business’, though, Dad,” she said softly and certainly. “Then why--”

“It is a wild, heart-pounding, dangerous, and exhilarating life, being a consulting detective,” he said. Molly’s warm eyes met his. “I have only ever experienced the precisely same rush in the line of work that is husband and father. And I want nothing more than for you to feel it too.”

He looked Artie right in the eye and let himself be open to her. “I don’t want to share my girl and her talents for deduction and compassion just yet. It would mean that you’re ready to not need me. Or your mother,” he added quickly, trying to maintain some semblance of his signature stoicism.

Artie’s eyes narrowed, and she was silent for a moment. As the moment stretched Sherlock was reminded that she was most definitely his child. John had said that his own silences were unnerving. But, right before the moment became awkward, Artie’s face broke into a smile.

“Dad, you’re an idiot.”

Molly cleared her throat with admonishment, but both husband and daughter waved her off with identical dismissive hands.

“Mum, you know what I mean,” Artie smiled, keeping her eyes on her father. “Dad, I don’t want to do this because I don’t need you and Mum. I do and always will. I want to work this case because I think I want to be a writer.”

Molly and Sherlock looked to each other, then to their girl. “A writer?”

Artie sat up a little straighter, pulling the sleeves of her father’s old blue dressing gown down over her hands. Sherlock inwardly grinned. Bravado and nerves in both movements; this was a big moment for his daughter.

“I figured out what I want to major in at Oxford -- creative writing. I know, I know, it’s not exactly lucrative but I could take some cases myself as you said and that could pay a bit. Besides, Uncle John’s blog inspired me, and a-actually I’m rewriting some entries for a publication. Rosie’s doing the illustrations and I found that I loved it but I’m not getting the voice of the stories right because I’ve never seen you and Uncle John on a case. Well, not a murder case -- and we all know those are the juiciest tales!”

She was babbling, outdoing her mother as she motor-mouthed her explanation. She seemed to realize this and slowed to catch her breath. Molly and Sherlock were still locked in on her, their faces a combination of shock and intrigue.

Artie took a breath and smiled at them. “I want to write and publish these stories, Dad. Your stories, with Uncles John and Greg, Mum, Nana Hudders. I want to share you with more than London and the surrounding countryside.”

Sherlock’s throat felt tight, and a strange prickling began behind his eyes. He chanced a glance at Molly, whose eyes were swimming in pride and un-shed tears.

“Oh,” he murmured, blinking rapidly. “Well, um…”

Artie’s hand slipped into his on the table. “Dad?”

Sherlock grasped her fingers in his, her touch grounding. He looked at Molly again, his foot finding her sock-clad one under the small table, and closed his eyes. In his mind palace (which had more windows than walls now, letting sunlight filter in and illuminate the ceilings and doors of the massive building), he found Artie’s room next door to Molly’s. Pushing the door open he saw her, all of eight years old with his deerstalker on her head and her faithful, never-far-from-reach diary open, a silly feathery pen at the ready.

He smiled as he opened his eyes and arched a supercilious brow at his currently eighteen year old daughter. “Best get your arse dressed and prepared for battle, Miss Hooper-Holmes. The game--”

“-- is ON! Hell yeah, Dad!” Artie tugged him forward and planted a loud smacking kiss on his forehead before bolting out of the kitchen and upstairs to her bedroom, dressing gown flapping dramatically.

Molly immediately cracked up laughing, standing to clear the table. “She is so your child, Sherlock.”

He grasped her wrist and pulled her into his lap. “Again, I remind you that she is half you too, wife.” He kissed her languidly, her hands reaching into his curls (which may or may not have had strands of silver through them). They broke apart only when they heard the thump of their daughter losing her balance, no doubt trying to put on her boots without unlacing them (again).

“You better get yourself dressed too,” Molly said, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Artie’s been dead-set on joining you for a murder for ages.”

Sherlock scrunched his nose at her. “Dead-set? Molly, your jokes…”

They shared another soft, sweet kiss, ignoring the thundering footsteps and the subsequent “Ohhh come on, you two!”

#sherlolly #sherlock holmes #molly hooper #parent!lock #original hooper-holmes child

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i-believe-n-sherlock-holmes · 3 years

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I was reading @ebaeschnbliah's interesting meta X about the images surrounding the new Royal Mint medal and something very intriguing twinged my brain - I realised that the Jack the Ripper skeleton is a John symbol and foreshadows what happens to him in the episode.

You'll remember that in TEH, while John is still angry with Sherlock, Sherlock takes Molly along on the fake Jack the Ripper case (actually set up by Anderson to lure Sherlock back to London). Throughout this investigation, Sherlock is haunted by John's disbodied voice taunting him like a ghost.

What made things click for me that Sherlock is actually looking at a John mirror in this staged crime scene is how ebaeschnbliah describes this: "Sherlock comes to the conclusion that the fake corpse is only six moths old and its Victorian outfit had been exposed to first: sun and then: fire damage. (Sun exposure, fire damage, undead..."

Who else was sun exposed (John in Afghanistan - one of the first things Sherlock noticed was his tan) fire damaged (in this very episode he is thrown in a fire and the fact that they were trying to draw a parallel between him and the skeleton finally makes the odd line about feeling "a bit smoked" fit) - now undead - well, John did die a type of death in Afghanistan and was very much the walking dead when he returned to London.

So why 6 months old? This could either be referring to John's relationship with Mary, which we know has been going on about that long, or to how long John was back in London before he encountered Sherlock.

This whole case feels like Sherlock (perhaps in his MindPalace) trying to recreate that first encounter with John but switching out John with different elements. The invitation to Molly for her to join him on a case is like Angelo's reversed - Molly thinks Sherlock is asking her out but he's actually asking her on a case.

The John mirror being dressed in Victorian clothing is a bit of foreshadowing to TAB. It makes you wonder if the Victorian version of John Watson already existed in Sherlock's MindPalace prior to TAB - a creation made while he was away trying to take down Moriarty's network - or created when he was being tortured in Serbia - and he made up this case in his mind to try to put that version of John to rest now that he was returned to London. This also makes Sherlock's comment about preferring his doctors "clean shaven" make more sense because if he's been playing out things in his mind with a Victorian era Watson for a while, he was saying there that he prefers the real thing (or at least a modern day version of John) to that Victorian imagining.

He also has Molly there (who, like John, has a new fiance) so that he can let the modern day version of John go too - recognising the old dynamic just won't work. Molly in turn foreshadows that Mary will be a sociopath because when Sherlock lets go of the possibility of them solving cases together, he says that not everyone she falls for can be a sociopath. Molly then says (after she steps outside) that maybe she just has a "type" - meaning that John has a type - something that Sherlock will point out to John when Mary betrays him.

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musicprincess1990 · 4 years

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An Unconventional Proposal

@rabbit-in-blue sent the below image by way of prompt, and I humbly present my response (oh, and I made a slight tweak, hope that's cool with you).

"This is nice," Molly said, trying desperately to keep the tremor out of her voice. She wasn't entirely sure she succeeded.

Sherlock gave a somewhat stiff smile, his eyes darting between her and her hand. Her left hand.

They were in Angelo's, seated at the coveted back corner booth, the same booth at which they'd had their first real date. Sherlock had been a perfect gentleman, albeit a nervous one, until Molly had asked about a recent case of his. He'd been surprised, thinking she would want to keep his case work separate from their dating life. Oh, but she'd quickly set the record straight.

"Why on earth would you think that? We met because of your work, we became friends because of your work, and we are now a couple, because of your work. And besides, I love hearing about your cases. So, let's hear it."

The enthusiastic kiss he'd given her as a response had dissolved any remaining nervousness in either of them. From that point, the evening went splendidly, culminating in the unplanned, but certainly not unwelcome, "christening" of Baker Street.

Tonight, however, the nerves seemed to be getting to both of them, and Molly had a sneaking suspicion she knew why. The first glance at her hand, she'd barely noticed. Even the second glance, the thought hadn't crossed her mind. But when there was a third... fourth... fifth... and now she'd lost count... well, that really could only mean one thing.

Of course, her first instinct had been joy—oh, finally, finally!—but as the evening continued on, with no question, no further hints, she grew more and more anxious. Why hadn't he asked her? Was he rethinking the whole thing? Had he changed his mind? Oh God, what if he was going to break up with her?

When their dessert came and went, Sherlock suddenly spoke. "Forgive me for being blunt, but are you going to ask me or not?"

Molly blinked. "Sorry? Ask you...?"

"Yes, ask me," he huffed impatiently. "You've been agitated since the evening began, and you keep rubbing your ring finger with your thumb. It's quite obvious what you want, so I'd prefer it if you would just spit it out, so I can say yes, and we can go back to your flat and celebrate."

Oh. My. God.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Molly asked, "You think I was planning to propose to you?"

He blinked once. Twice. Then her favorite crinkle appeared between his eyebrows. "Aren't you?"

Molly couldn't help it... she laughed. Loudly, without restraint, scaring the poor old couple two tables over, and earning them a nasty look from the waiter. Sherlock just frowned, waiting for her to finish.

"I thought you were going to ask me!" she giggled.

His eyebrows shot up, his mouth parted in shock, and he stared at her. Then, he was laughing with her. It took them several moments to compose themselves, and by then, their hands had joined across the table

"Well," he murmured with a smile, "I suppose that means we're getting married."

Molly's heart filled almost to bursting with love for this ridiculous man. Sliding closer to him, she pulled her hand from his, only to bury it in his hair and tug his head down for a slow, lingering kiss. When the kiss ended, she touched her forehead to his. "Trust us to get engaged in the least conventional way."

"Mm," he pursed his lips in thought, causing them to brush against hers, "I wouldn't say it's the least conventional. There were no pets involved, no life or death situations, nor an interactive website."

Molly drew back and stared at him. "You looked up weird ways to propose, didn't you?"

His ears turned pink. "Maybe."

With a quiet chuckle, she pressed her lips to his. "I'm rather mad about you, you know that?"

He grinned. "I know."

#sherlolly #my writing #sherlolly fanfiction #aw yiss #proposal fic #love these nerds #otp forever #thank you for the prompt!

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vowled · 3 years

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Unpopular Opinion: Johnlock edition

So, I am, as invariably suggested by my blog and username, a major Sherlock fan. I absolutely love it. The first time I watched it, I immediately related to it, and my peabag brain instantly saw a friend in John Watson. Sherlock’s character, on the other hand, was quite unconventional to me. I couldn’t bring myself to quite like him for the first 2 episodes. He was.....different. I knew I wanted to watch the series just for the dynamic duo and their and sweet friendship. The cases I couldn’t at first care for much, but eventually that changed too. I always was completely amazed by how well they had managed to adapt the series to the 21st century and their subtle winks to the original canon too was quite impressive. Eventually, I fell in love with it, and proceeded to watch the entire series thrice. in a row. I was, and still am, completely obsessed.

Then came the thought, which was also somehow initially suggested subtly by the show itself, ” What if Sherlock and John are in Love?” I must agree, I had read too many conspiracy theories about certain celebs being closeted to not come up with that question.

At first it was just a thought. But then, critical analyses on tumblr came up. I couldn’t stop reading them?! and so many of them were thought-provoking and persuasive and honestly, I was living for it. The phone = heart theory is still one of the best Theories I’ve read among all the fandoms I’ve ever been in. And that is just one among many. JohnLock was everywhere. Other ships were persistent, but none could reach the amount of fervor as JohnLock. And I was living for it too. I still really enjoy all the adorable fanfics and the ever-interesting theories, and honestly, at this point, my motto is “I’ll find homoerotic subtext even if it kills me”.

Shipping is ok, shipping is good. But here’s the deal we need to talk about: we shouldn’t justify our ships to the point of interpreting every action as romantic. This propagates unrealistic expectations and results in harmful stereotypes.

Yes, I’m talking about the unending debate on Johnlock.

From season one itself, Johnlock was phenomenal. It is widely argued that the show-runners themselves inserted subtle hints, and hence, birthed this beast on their own. The Sherlock fandom remains one of the oldest fandoms in the world, with its beginnings rooted in the Nineteenth Century when ASiS was published, and since then many have argued about the latent homosexual subtext embedded into the writing, my point here being people have been shipping Johnlock for well over a hundred years. Hence, It’s not really a surprise that people are still drawn to this ship. But to be shipped by this magnitude of people? This invariably suggests that there’s material provided to us by the creators themselves that is very blatantly obvious about the relationship. And while in most cases shipping two characters is completely okay in itself, according to me, shipping Johnlock has further validation in the fact that there is proof of intent of it becoming canon eventually (at least in the first two seasons).

Like I said before, shipping is OK, shipping is good.

But is shipping okay if we take it to the point of over-analysing every move?

Sherlock is a comfort character for me. God knows half of my maladaptive daydreams are about him being a father figure towards me. My entire twitter tl and Tumblr dashboard is stuffed with cutesy or angsty things about him, and that’s great! But being in the fandom for about eight months, I’ve realised how this sort of feed eventually resulted in me completely forgetting the original storyline, and more importantly, in me forgetting how flawed a character Sherlock is!

Everyone(including me, the first time) freaks out in HLV because of how Sherlock isn’t listed as John’s pressure point. I, however, think we should question ourselves: Why should John still consider Sherlock that tantalizingly close to himself as he was in the beginning? John learnt his best friend had died, and he decided to do the bravest thing he could: make peace with it and move on. BUT NO! The Ghost of the man who loved him returned from the grave to haunt him! Here I talk about the other possible reasons why Sherlock wasn’t a pressure point for John in HLV.

I am tired of this constant sugarcoating of Sherlock’s character. I am tired of seeing constant posts about how Sweet and caring Sherlock is and how much he loves John and how he loved her more than Mary. I am done with over analysis of every single shot where Sherlock looks at John, completely done. This shot below? It’s been overused for so many fanfics and cheesy romantic lines that I forgot that it’s supposed to be a look of GUILT.

Anyone who knows me knows that I love sherlock so dearly because he’s a very unlikeable character. That is precisely what sets him so far apart from the other characters. Sherlock started off with a hateful and dismissive character, but through the course of the events he undergoes a lot of emotional development. And that is truly noteworthy. In TFP he said for Mycroft, “ He did the best he could (for Eurus)...” and that is truly sentimental. This sort of development is always heartwarming.

What I want people to understand is that Analysis is, obviously, important. And CRITICAL ANALYSIS more so. And it’s saddening to see so many people glossing over the critical part of the analysis. Why is it so wrong to point out HOW HURTFUL SHERLOCK’S ACTIONS TOWARDS JOHN HAVE BEEN? Why is it wrong to to point out Johnlockers borderline bully other shippers?

Can we finally talk about the problematic aspects of Johnlock, or rather Johnlockers?

Even though I’m relatively new to the fandom, I’ve noticed how dismissive people are of anything negative said about Sherlock. In the beginning, it was endearing, really; but now I see this pattern of constantly singing praises of Sherlock’s character, and it has lead me to realize how detrimental it can be to the relatively younger audiences. Sherlock is Rude, period. There’s no question about it. And this constant glorifying of his rudeness and arrogance and dismissing it as a quirk could very well possibly give the impression that arrogance and vanity are in fact not so bad, and hell, it might make one seem a little cooler even ! Oh, don’t be mad if I act like my comfort character ! I’m quirky like that !

Constant bashing of the creators. And when I say constant, I mean it. This sort of bashing about is never-ending. And when I say this, I don’t mean that the creators were perfect; some of their mistakes were, quite frankly, blatantly ignorant ( like Irene the Canon Lesbian falling for Sherlock), but I don’t see enough people praising it for what it is. Even now there is so much slander against the creators ( and personally I feel bad for Mark Gatiss because he’s actually on twitter and is constantly spammed). Is it really a surprise that the creators hate the fans and especially the Johnlockers? Was it supposed to be so shocking when Martin said that being in the show wasn’t very fun anymore because of the fans?

We just don’t actually analyze anymore! I get that we haven’t got any new content for FOUR muheffing years but please I literally don’t see anything that’s actually interesting or analytical anymore and that kills me because that was the reason I joined this fandom- to read and comprehend the subtext, and the AMAZING META! All I see are cute couple-ish pics of ben and Martin and tbh we can do so much better than that?!

Johnlockers have so much actual stuff to talk about? There is literally so much going on Subtextually, and yet all I see is people losing their mind over any interaction between Sherlock and John. This is so unfair! AND it’s detrimental too! With people painting every interaction as romantic in nature, the younger teenagers in this fandom who might not have experienced Love or Attraction may glean unrealistic ideas about them! It is difficult as it is to navigate oneself through romantic entanglements, let alone being fed such rose-colored ideas! And I say this because although I don’t know much about the audience on Tumblr, but Stan Twitter is like, (at least) 50 percent teenager-fuelled. It actually isn’t healthy for them at all.

Stop with the Benedict-worshipping for God’s sakes. Are you only in here because of him? We all get it, he’s absolutely stunning but come on, we’re here for the stories too right?

Romantic love is important, no doubt. But you know what’s completely overlooked? The platonic sort of love. And it’s tiring. Sherlock and Molly/Janine/Irene/John are all amazing duos and each pair has it’s own uniqueness and tang to it! Let’s not constantly dissect everything in the name of shipping, shall we?

lol looking back at it, I feel like it’s a vent rant for the prevailing circumstances on Stan Twitter. I apologize if anything I said hurt anyone, it wasn’t meant to. I completely understand that shipping people is for...recreation (?) but this was just my opinion. Let me know what you think about it!

#sherlock bbcsherlock im prolly gonna get a lot of hate for it maybe i should delete it but nah it took a long time to type dont hateme

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