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rebelliouslala · 3 years

Text

4 Something

warnings- language, threats of death, violence

word count- ~2k

a/n- I don’t have my computer so I can’t put a keep reading, and it took me a bit to make sure this part was <3 perfecto so :,) Pain. also I HATED WRITING THIS SOB YOU’LL SEE AHHH

With a stir, and a dry groan from your mouth, you opened your eyes to find your arms still, holding your belt by buckle as the rest of the accessory bounded you. Now this was just an insult.

Yet, your nose twitched in anger as you widened your eyes. Gogo. He and Chenle, they both had betrayed you. And Victory, you cringed at the thought of how Victory had looked before you saw darkness.

You blinked a few times. You need to get out. You need something to get out and to save Johnny, and everyone else. To not be a dick, and get help from the Ripple.

The room around strangely smelled like raspberry tea. The top half of the walls were a dark oak wood traced and had clouds decorated in, with the sun shaped chandelier placed on the ceiling, even though you could barely see it from its dim light. You noted the red, or dark pink wallpaper that was supposed to be covering the rest of the wall, but from its decay, it turned into a mold green. You had a feeling it was perhaps just the design, and not age.

It was, both intriguing and relaxing to feel at the moment. You heard a pair of muffled voices mumble next to the door, behind and to the right of you.

In front of you, as you finally eye, was a rustic coffee table scattered with small treats, a delicate cup filled with red raspberry tea, and a letter. It read, in Korean characters, “Patience is key, he will fly in a few moments.”

You frowned. Baise was a very diverse city, an island that people would pass by on their maps. You remembered seeing it on a map before. It was between Korea, Japan, and China. A bit below Korea, to the bottom left of Japan and the neighbor to its big brother, China. Meaning nearly every person in Baise knew and could read at least more than one language. You even took your fun with Thai when you talked to Jewel.

Korean was something only- you inspected it closer by leaning in. It was only used by the Pound. In mafia terms of the Powder City, to converse you must strictly use one singular language because of the Drug War.

You remembered how awkward it was to talk to Flavour. His Chinese sucked. That was why Chenle was your spy. He was a boy from China, a son that funded and partly owned the Dream Gems.

Hopefully The Ripple should be getting here, you and Johnny, as well as Victory were high assets. They wouldn’t just leave you.

You sighed and hung your head, before leaning up to scratch your head. You gasped, and took the belt. You rolled your eyes from how tired you were, lazy enough to not even focus how detained you were.

There was a crackly sound, a cough, a voice which said an, “U-uh, oh, uh, uhm—,” with fading static in between the stuttering.

You finally leaned in to inspect the tea, scowling if it bubbled. Although it did smell like sweet honey, with pure cane sugar mixed in with its now wet leaves.

“I,” you heard a deep voice, almost growl into the speakers. It was menacing, and it echoed in the room. You sipped your tea out of excitement. “Am Eos. Boss of the Pound.”

Your eyes lit up at the taste of the drink, before gulping the rest down. It had a nostalgic feeling behind it. You swayed to the warmth that filled your body, and how it made you feel like you were running along the alleyways again with Johnny, feeing like you could fly up in the clouds.

“I am Psy,” you replied. Your mouth was now prepared to talk, and you took a crumpet. You inspected it before biting, “A worker.”

“For the Ripple?” The man said with a hiss.

“For myself. And my partner. Release him and I, along with some of the money, and perhaps I won’t try and find you and kill you,” you leaned back into the moss green sofa. The furniture had perfectly blended into the wall, and you smirked by biting some more into the snack with a crunch.

There was a chuckle, and it electrified the energy around you. “Oh; Psy, is it? I let you have this much freedom. Do not try anything too rash.”

“Well, I do want to get out.”

The mic went silent for some time. You looked around the room, making sure not to be too observant to the natural eye. You noted the walls below the wood were thin as paper, revealing brick. Perhaps you were in an old apartment building on the Southeast side?

“What can you do, Psy?”

“Hop over on drug trades, lie like I’m pretty, murder- oh disguises, I dunno, what do you want?”

Another moment. There was a door to your right, where you had heard the voices. It was painted and a thin wood. If you were to get up and kick it now, it would shatter.

“There will be a man to pick you up. He shall explain everything. Salutations, Psy.”

You looked up at the singular woofer diagonal from you. You salute it with a slight breeze to it, “Yep, pleasure meeting you Eos.”

As expected, when you finished a miniature cucumber sandwich, a short but stone faced man came in. “Hello, my name is Selen.”

“Psy,” you said as you got up, snapping your belt around your waist and you crossed your arms. “Any announcements?”

The man took a look at you before he gestured for you to follow with a ‘come hither,’ of his first two fingers. You rolled your eyes, but followed him out of the gothic room, to a moist and ugly stone hallway.

“We are the Pound. Eos is not a man who prefers to show his face, so I shall speak on his behalf. We are one of the most influential mafias in Baise, because of our spies.”

You stopped walking, overwhelmed by his extremely fake deep mafia voice, and the smell of everything you would witness in a sewer, “Spies?”

“Do I need to explain it to you lightly?” Selen asked, continuing to walk after a moment. You followed, “I am not going to be your little spy. I worked years for the Ripple. I would never betray them.”

“Flavour told us you need money.”

You gripped your belt. “W-What about it?”

“Ever wonder,” Selen opened the only door, and you widened your eyes, “How Johnny always had the money from those little robberies he made?”

You gasped as you saw a huge ballroom, and the nearly dozen of people you saw occupy it. Despite its space the people almost seemed to fill the room with their energy.

Every black tile on the floor lit up as you saw a young man run past you on your left side, at an astonishing speed, before grabbing a bow and sliding across diagonally, and shooting at a man covered in armor, hitting him in the head with ease.

Every old, and no doubt expensive, picture across the other man training, threw knives at another man on the right as he ran down and dodged, before getting out a shot gun and blowing it at the picture’s faces, not even looking.

You gazed in awe at the training facility. Not only did it have a classy energy, but it trained others to the max of their abilities. At the Ripple, you would probably fight Sushi until you both ended up in a tickle fight.

This, this was something else. Victory, Chenle, and Osaka were lined up near the entrance you had meet entered, waiting for their turn. You couldn’t breathe. Another man had begun to give them weapons, instructing them to shoot.

“Johnny has worked with us since he was 18. He said, specifically, he had no partner. Believe our eyes when Coral radioed in he had lied the entire time.” Selen chuckled a bit to himself, “Well, really, it was Gogo.”

You eyed up to the grand staircase which was above the black and white tile floors you occupied. The dark haired man who laughed pushed Johnny in a wheelchair, both seemingly fine. You pushed Selen out of the way, and made your way across, easily avoiding the traps.

The traps, so to speak, were more knives thrown at you, and you whipped out your belt around you, which caught them all in its swirl. When you snapped the belt into a club, the daggers fell out, bouncing as you glared at the man ahead.

Even as an arrow shot at you, you had turned and knocked it out of your vision like it was a simple baseball.

Gogo.

That was the name that seemed to repeat in your mind once you came out of your unconscious spell.

You had made yourself safe upon the stairs, you glared Gogo as you bludgeoned him, with all your force in the face with your truncheon. Everyone watched the man get knocked into the wall, and he groaned loudly as if it were his last breath. The people around you froze and stared.

“YOU ASSHOLE! YOU COMPLETE DICK!” You grabbed the man’s shoulders, intending to crush him as if he were a bug, before you felt a gentle touch.

“Y/n. He saved my life.”

“HE RATTED US OUT!” You turned to Johnny.

But his eyes were soft. They melted you. And that’s all that mattered. That he was truly still okay. He held your face and smiled. “Y/n,”

You embraced Johnny, and hid in his shoulder, grabbing him as if he were that teenager hiding from the cops again. He smelled the same as always. Warm, like opening a fresh cup of coffee, and sniffing the pure caffeine and vanilla mixture, with just a- a touch. That Touch of Cinnamon. You teared up. You couldn’t believe it. This was the closest you had ever lost Johnny. And it was because of the one man you had trusted.

“Y-Y/n,” Gogo spat out some blood as you raised your club, glaring at him. “Don’t you fucking come—,”

You felt a soft touch on your shoulder, and it was rubbed in.

Johnny caressed your face and smiled. “Don’t. He’s a kid.”

You looked back at Gogo looking at you. Now he didn’t look as the spy you hated.

He was Mark. He still had those same big sunflower seed like eyes, and he was so tiny. He was the same boy who giggled at Johnny telling jokes half awake. He was still a kid.

You tucked away your club back into a belt and embraced Johnny closer.

The man picked you up with ease, wincing quietly but he sat you on his lap. “Y/n, can you forgive me for ever lying?”

You paused, inhaling his scent as you felt yourself tear up. “Is that what all of those grocery runs were?” You asked quietly. Now, the young man named Mark Johnny had left, to go talk to Osaka below.

“Yes, yes they were.”

You wiped your tears and giggled quietly, “No wonder you always forget something stupid, like bread.”

“That was one time!” Johnny yelled.

“No it wasn’t!” You laughed more, and poked him. You both held each other close.

Gogo then touched your arm, and you whipped out your belt and stared at him with a faux, huge smile. “Hi, Mark.”

He blinked. “H-Hello- B-Boss, uh,” Johnny held you closer, and you narrowed your eyes, “Spit it out, traitor.”

“Eos saw you. H-He said,” he clicked something in his ear, and nodded quietly, “He wants to meet you.”

Johnny held you. “No. No- we agreed.”

“Boss said you can- er, r-roll them there.”

Johnny scowled at Gogo. He lifted you off, hissing as he got up. “I-I’ll walk.”

The two of you made your way from the door Johnny had entered, to another dim, gross hallway like the one Selen and you had to go through.

You were more surprised at the architecture of this building than the spies.

“Did you know Osaka?”

“No, I only truly knew Ma- Mark.” You carried the tall man in your arms, as he stumbled. “He and I got in at the same time. I taught him everything I knew, but, I guess I’m still not a good of a hyung than I thought I was.”

“No, he’s just a bonehead.” You aided Johnny. “Besides, I’m pretty sure if I can take Gogo, well, Flavour—,”

“Jaemin is just a kid.”

You frowned. You, of course still trusted Johnny. He did this for you. You just, it felt weird seeing him so casual to the people who, was supposed to be your enemy. You sighed quietly and gently looked up, “Do you—?”

“Yeah, my portrait isn’t watery, it’s going to be,” he grunted quietly, “kinda like, uh, like w-watery snow. I’m sorry- Give me some time?”

You smiled. Once you and Johnny had left the South side, you guys didn’t know how to get caught by mafias, or even the cops. You spoke in code. Each first letter of a word he spoke meant something.

Everything else that he said, due to his tone, how he sounded more casual, and knowing his voice so well you could impersonate him- you knew he meant.

Plan

Working

Meaning the second part of his sentence was; It’s going to be,

Working

Soon

You sighed, “You better make that fuckin’ portrait snow.”

“It needs to be watery at least.” He said, a little distastefully.

“Fine, do that then.”

“I will.” He said forcefully, but he softly kissed you on the head.

He stopped, and he held you by your arms, and you now turned to face him.

You’ve seen Johnny scared all too many times. He couldn’t sleep for two weeks after he first killed a man. He once started to leave to be running at a beach since he had to check in on an elderly woman’s house, since her bottom floor was soon to be raised. He went into a rage when he realized his parents had moved, and left him a note saying they will be waiting back in Korea for him.

“I-I,”

You softly leaned in and kissed the side of his lips. You’ve done it a hundred times. This time, you meant it as, you will be back. “I love you too, John.”

You opened the door behind you, and you stepped in backwards, watching his presence crumble. His eyes stopped melting, and instead he looked like he was frozen as the door closed. He looked as if he had lost you, again.

The moment you walked in, your nose scrunched up. The stench of fresh flowers had grabbed your sinuses like it was in a chokehold. The room was dim but lit by a faux gold chandelier, with tiny pink wax candles, and the room, from top to bottom, was lined with flowers.

Pressed, fresh, old, molding, you stared at the maker of the scent, and the man himself.

Eos’ hair was softly curled and from his white roots, it was coloured as the dawn, as he looked through his stained glass windows. His entire body, besides his eccentric hair, was hidden by an enormous leather desk chair. His back was turned to you to gaze upon the windows. You wondered how he can even see you.

Psy, isn’t it?” His voice was more natural, but had that tone. That commanding tone of power.

“Yes.” You glanced at your belt and how it was loosely buckled.

“Come another half meter, if you can.” He said naturally.

You almost went forward, before stopping. You crossed your arms. “Tell me why.”

“I beg your pardon, little one?” He uttered, as if you told him something preposterous.

“Are you going to kill me?”

The man laughed, and unlike his voice, it was silent, and came out only in exhales, until it started to turn into a fit of giggles as he showed his hands. Long. Veiny. They grabbed something out of the air until they disappeared behind the chair.

“It is forbidden at the Pound for any spy, especially one of your standard, to see my face. Anyone who does, shall die.”

You rose an eyebrow and you sighed. “Really now?”

You’ve taken down at least six, eight if you count the small drug circles, of organizations in the city. You can name all types of mafia leaders. This one, based just off of the minute you’ve spent in his, it would be kind to be called an office, he was definitely one for the dramatics. One might even say he had a complex of which he was a God.

“Yes, now, just,” his hands were outreaches, and they grabbed a shard of glass. His nimble fingers moved it through his hand, as if he had done it hundreds of times. But, you swore you saw a glimpse of his- “One more step, little one.” He let go of the glass. Please.”

You scoffed quietly, but you did so, and bowed.

There was so much silence you started to tap your belt out of panic. It hasn’t even been 10 seconds. But you felt as if he was ogling you. Eyeing you. Undressing you.

“You’re perfect.”

“I’ll kill you.” You hissed. Definitely a man with a God complex. You wanted to choke him with your belt now.

“Hm-? Oh, forgive me, Psy,” he started to tap something, whether it was his chin, or his shoe, it echoed in your head. “I was thinking. I was going to kill you.”

“Thanks, Eos.”

“Heh, well, I was. Emphasis, Psy, emphasis is something never talked about. I bet you Mr. Money would give you a lecture on something anything but that, no?”

You uncrossed your arms. “What—?”

“Victory has been a spy of mine since the Ripple started. But he’s only a low rank in that stupid little West side shit of his. But you, no no no, you and John built something there. In that little club. And I need you to bomb it out.”

Your mouth was beginning to ache from how many times you started to sigh and scoff at the man, “Do you really think—?”

“I am a man of my word, yes I was going to, but I couldn’t really kill you. Johnny and I made a promise to each other. For you and he to leave Baise happily.” Eos’ hand showed, and it drooped in a laze, as if it was a sort of wish he never wanted to keep. “I will give you a yacht, servants, food, water, a boat out of the island if you take down the Ripple. And you’ll never have to see me, or anyone in a mafia again.”

His hand disappeared, and you heard in his leather chair, he moved, almost as if he was facing you, that his body language was possibly showing he was extremely happy. Or an extreme liar.

“Do we have a deal, Psy?”

You frowned. The Ripple. Your family. People you’ve seen at their worst. They have seen your flaws. They are your only means of happiness and purpose here.

“If I refuse?” You muttered, your arms slowly began to hide yourself. It covered you more than just cross over your chest. Your throat closed up, and you felt like shaking as Eos smiled through his words.

“If you refuse to obey me, Psy, removing Johnny permanently from your life shall be your only consequence.” The sound of adjustment, and he tapped something again. That fucking echo.

He knew he won.

#kwritersworldnet #ultkpopnetwork #nctnetwrite #kpop imagines #kpop fan fiction #nct #fanfiction #kpop #nct fanfiction #nct 127 #nct 127 angst #dee writes #4 Something

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starryfreckles · 4 years

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✨ten questions✨

thank you for tagging me fae, grey, and sarah 💛this is three sets of questions so buckle in, this is going to be a long ass post lol but their questions are so good !! i couldnt not respond 🥰grab yourself something to drink, its a whole lot about me... 30 questions about me actually lol

from la twin @fvae ✨

#1 If you were a fruit, what fruit would you be ?

a mirabelle. its a mix between an apricot and a plum thats from france and maybe other parts of western europe idk 🤷‍♀️

#2 Free space!! Rant about whatever you’d like

thanks queen, what will i talk about today ?? ooh i know ok not so much a rant but im currently listening to harry potter and the goblet of fire audiobook becuase i wanted to read the stories again. this one is probs one of my favs and so much got left out in the film like DOBBY’S FUCKING ROLE IN IT ! also just the beginning when dudley is on his diet and harry has a fucking stash of food in his room and the weasley’s coming to get him. theres so much more to the story and i know they cant fit the 450 page book into a 2 hour movie but those details are so important for me. theyre part of the world building and we all know im a sucker for world building and character dev. like hell yea storytelling !! but just the wizarding world in general is my pride and joy and means the actual world to me 🥺 also after this one imma listen to order of pheonix becuase SOOOOO many details were left out in that movie and wowow best book but like highkey worst film... ((maybe thats the rant part of this lolol ok this was def a rant LMAOOO)) ok but its a really good one and i just wanted to be in that world again 🥺🥺

#3 If I were to visit your country right now, where would you take me ? What places should I visit ?

right, youd be coming to the southern west coast of the US. if covid wasnt a thing we’d go to a bunch of museums but ART, we are artists 🥰we’d also go to all the open air malls which are super cool and just fun to walk around and window shop. theres the beach for like beachy things lol, more touristy things. but theres also the mountains for hiking and being one with nature. there are a few observatories and telescopes within 2 hour roadtrips and those are cool becuase SPACE and just their location on top of super cool mountains for all the views you could ever want.

#4 If you came with a label, what would it say ?

« not what you’d expect » or « beware of typos »

#5 If your life was a book, that title would you give this chapter of your life ?

oooh so i this chapter of my life closing soon ((RIP ME)) but i think id be called something like « what do i make ? » or « finding my voice »

#6 What is your stereotype in your friend group ?

oh lordy, im like a mom friend ((hi tasfia if youre reading this lol)), the super organised one that plans things lmaooo

#7 What’s your spirit animal ?

Im an owl or a fox lets be realll

#8 What’s the most unexplainable thing that’s ever happened to you? Does it still happen ?

lol not to get deep and sad but the amount of friends i have somehow managed to push away and lose... uhhh yea it does... im not good with relationships 😔sigh

#9 What’s your favourite word and it’s meaning ?

extraordinary - adj very unusual or remarkable.

if you break the word down to its compoun words : « extra » and « ordinary » to me its almost as if it should mean something that is incredibly plain but its not, its quite the opposite of that.

#10 What was something that made you smile this past week ?

i had a bunch of convos with my irl friend and coworker ((about wtfock LOLOLOL and just getting her to start watching skam lol)) that were super hilarious and just really nice 🥰

from @stoffans 🌸

#1 What would be the most fitting for you: the sun, the moon or the stars?

I think the moon. it has phases of lightness and darkness...

#2 Where have you felt incredibly out of place?

literally any party or group of people greater than three. im an incredible shy person around people i do not know very well and just sit there awkwardly...

#3 What are the moments in life that make you realise life isn’t all that bad?

when im out with my closest friends or when im making my creative work

#4 Which song makes you feel like you’re floating on a cloud?

visions of gideon by sufjan stevens its so soft and relaxing

#5 Sunset or sunrise?

seeing as im not usually awake fro sunrise lol, imma have to say sunset. i used to live near the beach when i still physically went to uni ((rip covid)) and man those colours and seeing the sun dip into the oceans wowow

#6 Do you like it when people do stuff for you without telling you?

i love that kind of stuff, im an acts of service kind of person and just the little things to show that they thought of me just gets me tbh

#7 Did you ever cheat on your tests in school?

uuhh nei, im a good student 😭

#8 Could you take care of a plant or would it die instantly?

i always had plants in my uni room, they did great 💛

#9 Do you think you’re a difficult person?

emotionally yes, i cant describe what im feeling and im terrible with words in difficult conversations... other than that, im the most indecisive person youll ever meet and pretty easy going.

#10 Give me one word to describe yourself

anticipatory or thoughtful. i guess these two kind go together but i like play out different outcomes in different scenarios and anticipate so much...

from @grey-mist-exist 🍂 ((you tagged me on my main but i wanted to put them all together, i hope you dont mine 💛))

#1 Does your current means of transportation (car/bike/etc.) have a name? What is it?

uhhh so i havent been in a car in about a month soooo imma say my rolly desk chair that i use to zip around me room lol. its from IKEA and its called sporren

#2 If you could learn a language over-night, what language would you choose and why?

ahhh id learn norwegian ngl, dutch is close second. OORRR i stick to my roots and learn vietnamese 🤨 hmmm idkkk there are many languages i would love to learn 😭

#3 If you were an article of clothing, what would you want to be?

id be a jumper, to keep people warm and cozy

#4 You get teleported into a childhood fairy tale / folk story- what tale is it?

peter pan 🥰🥰🥰 my main’s user is enough i think lol

#5 You get the choice between time-travel or travelling to a parallel universe (but only being able to travel one time). Which do you choose?

parallel universe. i want to see how another me is getting on in life. what happens if my parents never moved us out of france 🥺

#6 Sun, moon, stars, or other? Why?

the stars are so interesting and mysterious

#7 If you were a path, what type of path would you be (concrete, cobblestone, dirt road, highway, asphalt, etc.)?

red brick. for the aesthetic lol

#8 How do you know when you’re in love?

i get butterflies in my stomach and my heart drops when they walk in

#9 What is your cellphone wallpaper?

bb fae look ((you already knew this was it but 💛💛))

✨🌸💛✨🌸💛this lovely piece of art of my bb is by @jensrolt go check out all her other art, its always the cutest thing ever ✨🌸💛✨🌸💛

#10 If you could instantly become an expert in something, what would it be?

expert of molecular cuisine pls. i love cooking and food. that kind of science fascinates me

#we did it yall!#these were so nice !!!#i love you merci #this was fun #but so so long #i have no idea what my questions would be tbh so enjoy my answers 💛💛#tagged #about me #personal #not skam

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quirkykayleetam · 4 years

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Broken Pieces Superhero AU

Hello friends and superheroes! @burtlederp and I are back with a new installment, though the next one might take us a little longer. This features some hurt/comfort for Damien, domestic fun and insults as a love language with Daniel and Beth, the beginnings of badass!Jay, and trouble brewing for Mr. Marcelo. Ready to read?

Chapter 4: Of Secrets and Soup

Jay stared at the television set. Their hand paused between their mouth and the bowl of popcorn on their lap.

“No,” they thought. “It couldn’t be.”

Behind them, Jay heard Daniel curse. They registered the man prepping the SUV for damage control. They knew someone had to help the Alchemist before it was too late and, well, Daniel was known for saving people. He saved Jay.

Still, Jay stared at the 23 inch screen. Their mind did and redid their calculations, instantly analyzing vocal tone, hand gestures, speed, gait, everything Jay could make out. It matched over 90%, no matter how Jay ran the numbers.

Jay knew who Roman was.

“Don’t go to the hospital!” they called desperately to Daniel before he sprinted out the door. They hoped Daniel heard. Then Jay dashed to their bedroom.

They needed their computer. They needed to think, get all the information, because Jay only knew one thing: They had met Roman before and they sure as hell weren’t going to let the villain hurt anyone else, not on their watch.

“Ahhh, smooth as silk,” Marcelo sighed as he walked back into his home through the medical room entrance. “Honey, I’m hoooome!” He called.

“Get changed and meet me in the kitchen, I made cinnamon rolls!” Cynthia called back. Marcelo moved faster, skipping to the master bedroom.

Cynthia walked into the bathroom as Marcelo stepped out of the shower just a few minutes later, holding a buzzing phone. He looked up at her, then to the phone. It was that phone. The secure one he’d made specifically for communication between him and Jay. Cynthia looked worried as she handed it to him.

“Thanks honey,” he nodded, taking it and putting it to his ear. “Mayor Blackwood speaking, is everything alright?”

“Umm...you said I could call if...if I needed anything, right?”

Marcelo could tell even over the line that Jay was shaken and shaking.

“Yes, Jay, of course, of course! What can I do for you? Are you okay?” he asked.

“I can’t….It’s not safe over the phone. Can we meet? Now?”

“Yes, yes we can. I’ll be over in ten minutes, is that alright?”

“Not the house!” Jay blurted. “Not there. I’ll be in Central Park, by the red bench with the rose bushes. And Mr. Marcelo, sir?”

“Yes, Jay?”

“Don’t….Can Mrs. Cynthia not be there? I don’t….I don’t want her to hear anything and get in danger or trouble or--”

Marcelo glanced to Cynthia, brow creased with concern. “Of course, Jay, ah… Should I… should I bring some kind of defense for myself?”

“I don’t think so….Not yet. Not until you’ve heard what I’ve got to say. Then I was….I was hoping we could make plans from there. Together.”

“...Okay.” Marcelo sounded apprehensive. “I’ll be there… I’ll be there very soon.”

“Thank you. Thank you sir. I need to be somewhere safe. I need to be with you.” Jay’s voice crackled slightly as the phone cut off.

“What did they say?” Cynthia asked, eyes wide, as Marcelo lowered the phone.

“They sound very… Very worried. They wanted to meet me alone in the park.” Marcelo swallowed.

“Take a gun with you?” Cynthia requested. Marcelo looked at her and smiled.

“Of course, love,” he brushed his thumb affectionately across her cheek. “Alright, I need to put some clothes on. Can I take a cinnamon roll for the road?”

“Yes, I’ll pack one for Jay, too.” Cynthia answered warmly, and stepped out as he got dressed.

---

It was warm. It was very warm, but not unpleasantly so, not hot. Just warm. And soft. Damien didn’t remember his bed being so soft.

He opened his eyes slowly, aware of a very distant pain as he focused blearily on popcorn ceilings, green-striped wallpaper. Not his house. So, of course, not his bed. And no mask.

It took a moment for all the memories of the past couple hours to come to him, but while they trickled back, his heart pounded. He wasn’t wearing a mask, he wasn’t wearing his costume, he wasn’t wearing a shirt or pants. He remembered Daniel, the fight with Roman, getting shot.

He groaned, lifting an arm and stopping as he realized an IV was delivering to him… Well, he didn’t know what it was, but it was probably helping, maybe.

“It is,” Desperaux offered helpfully in the back of his mind.

Something smelled good, he noticed. His stomach was empty, that he was acutely aware of, and the smell made it rumble. He started to sit up, surprised at how little his wounds hurt him--they still hurt, just not as much as lesser wounds had in the past.

“Hey, kid,” Daniel said stepping into the room. His hands were wet, like he’d just washed them, and he buttoned a fresh black shirt around his torso. “I wouldn’t go sitting up just yet. Those bullets got you pretty bad.”

“Hey, kid!” a feminine voice called back from behind him. There was no ire in it, but it still made Damien jump. “You pull four pieces of shrapnel out of a goddamn superhero and the first thing you say when he wakes up is ‘Hey, kid’? I thought you weren’t supposed to be patronizing.”

A short Latino woman with curved bangs and a teasing smile appeared in the doorway. She held a large green patterned bowl in her hands, mixing its contents with a spoon while balancing several smaller multicolored dishes on her hip.

Damien watched her come in somewhat warily, but already trusted her a little for her comment. “How long was I out for?” he croaked, sitting up anyways, maybe to spite Daniel a tiny bit.

The aforementioned Daniel handed him a plastic cup of water.

“About 3 hours. We had to give you some pretty heavy sedatives to get the bullets out. You bounced back quicker than we expected.” The operative looked over his shoulder at Beth before reaching up to scratch behind his ear. “We were worried about you, kid.”

Damien almost smiled as he heard Despereaux purr delightedly in his mind. “They noticed! They noticed!” He didn’t let the smile reach his face, still, but lowered his gaze, humming in response.

“What Daniel means to say,” the woman cut in, “Is that you were all kinds of stupid--read: brave--and that I’ve been yelling at him for the past 2 hours for not telling me about you from the time we landed. So, he gets to go do the dishes while I get to ask you the easiest question you’ve probably been asked in a while: Do you want some Corn-and-Poblano Soup?”

Damien looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. “Um, yes ma’am.”

“Look at me, surrounded by gentlemen! I’m Beth Hernandez. Daniel says I shouldn’t tell you what my last name is yet, but you’re in my goddamn house and it's the most common thing south of the border.”

She spooned out a healthy portion of porridge-like stew, setting it on the bed next to Damien’s hip and handing him a spoon.

“Just don’t the be dumbass Mr. Wei thinks you are by picking that bowl up while it’s still hot and you’re still weak. I haven’t found a pottery store I like here yet so no one is allowed to break anything.”

A veeery slight smile found its way onto Damien’s face as he looked down at the bowl. “There’s one on Inupiak street, three over from main.”

Beth narrowed her eyes at him. “Local artisans?”

“Yes’m.”

“Fantastic! You get better, I get some more stuff, and I promise we can chuck every ugly thing in this house at the wall until it shatters. Deal?”

“Can I help?” Daniel called from the kitchen. Beth looked expectantly at Damien, like she was asking for permission or something.

Damien looked back at her blankly for a moment and shrugged.

“Ugh, fine you villainous hero-wrangler!” she called back.

Damien smiled. “Thank you, ma’am, for the food, I really appreciate it.”

Beth leaned in closer like she had a secret to tell. “Now, you may not know this yet, but this is kind of what I do. I get worried about people in danger which makes me stress cook so I get Daniel to get those people and bring them right back here. You’re not the first person I’ve collected.” She winked. “But you’ll meet Jay later.”

Damien nodded. “I hope he’s nicer than Daniel.”

“They’re sweetness wrapped in trauma like an empanada. Don’t yell too loud and you’ll get along just fine. Daniel is the one the yelling’s for.”

“I don’t know how to yell if I’m not in costume.” He shrugged.

“I think we can work with that,” Beth said. “Now shut up and eat your soup. I have to go make sure that maniac hasn’t rearranged my cutlery again.”

“It’s more efficient with the army method!” Daniel called as Beth went after him.

Damien scoffed quietly to himself, and began to slowly tuck into the soup. “She’s nice.” Fox commented in his mind.

“She is,” Damien murmured. “She is.”

---

Marcelo stepped out of his car, his casual one--not a big, black suburban, but something small, economic, good on snowy roads. He walked out to the bush that was blooming happily, standing by it and watching a family play in the park as he waited, tense. He’d brought a gun, stashed subtly within his light coat.

Jay ran up, seemingly from nowhere. Their appearance was rushed: frenzied blond hair fell over darting blue eyes. They grasped the small black bag from the plane cargo bay in their hands.

“You came. You actually came. Thank goodness!” they said, staring past Marcelo to the roses, or maybe their thorns. “We can’t stay here. I...I know something. Is that your car?”

“I--yes, that’s mine,” Marcelo’s brow furrowed with worry. “Jay, you’re alright, aren’t you?” he asked, walking towards his car.

“I’m honestly not sure? I...I think I am, for now.” Jay scrambled in the passenger seat before meeting Marcelo’s eyes in the most intense gaze the mayor had ever seen. “I have information on Roman, sir.”

“You do?” Marcelo returned his gaze, just as serious, nothing in his face betraying fear. “What is it?” he asked, locking the doors for security.

“Not here,” Jay repeated. “Once we...once I say this, neither of us are going to be safe.”

Tag List : @stoic-whumpee, @whatwasmyprevioususername, @whumpty-dumpty-fell-off-the-wall, @straight-to-the-pain, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @0idril0, @fallingstormphoenix, @whump-fantasies, @imagination1reality0, @whumpback-wail, @whump-tr0pes, @untilthepainstarts, @captivity-whump, @burtlederp, @redwingedwhump, @whumpiary, @captivity-whump, @blue-flare10, @aquaace

#Whump #Hurt/Comfort #Broken Pieces #Superheros #Aftermath #Recovery #Damien #Beth #Jay #Daniel Wei #Marcelo #Cynthia #Broken Pieces Superhero AU

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thebrochtuarachs · 7 years

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Recap on 3x09: The Doldrums

I loved this transition episode and this might be my favorite episode so far the entire season!!! (Yes, probably more over the reunion episode)

P.S. I’ve stopped reading the “Voyager” so that I don’t really know what to expect in the coming episodes. I’ll re-read once the season is over. This is exciting.

1. INTRO CHANGES ARE AMAZING!!! That African remix in the theme song plus the new footages are just adds so much more intrigue on what’s going to happen in the next half of the season! I mean, The greenery, the sea, the shipwreck, Jamaica, Turtle Soup? I can’t even already and it’s just the start of the episode.

2. I honestly had no idea what “doldrums” mean.

3. Oh, they didn’t show the passage to France,well, we need to run the story fast so I’m fine with it. It so nice to see Jared again. I wonder how much richer he’s gotten since his main rival in the business is gone.

4. Young Ian can be sold as long as he doesn’t get into trouble…well, let’s cross our fingers for this one.

5. Tension still there between Jamie and Claire. Despite the fact, he still allows himself to be vulnerable to Claire, even confessing that God maybe punishing him for wanting it all too much. I love this character development. Moreover, I actually love this tension more than when they getting to know each other in S1. Sam and Cait have nailed being an “older, married” couple without losing their sexiness and chemistry.

6. James Fraser is totally unreal and we shall all swoon about it. Here’s a man confessing his love but still willing to let his woman go (will even escort her back personally!) if it’s what she wants. Claire, on her end, knows she won’t leave Jamie but doesn’t want to tell him yet (cheeky! get the men on their heels, joke!). But with her coming with Jamie, I assume she accepts the man he is now for the man she knew once before? ;) I mean, I understand why parting this time maybe more okay cause at least they both know that each other lives but they both know that it ain’t going to happen no matter how crazy their situation is.

7. Claire trying to comfort Jamie with her hand in his arm and back. I’ve been waiting for this Claire Fraser to come back and here she is. Also, the Frasers handholding gives me much life. I need more pure scenes like these.

8. Jamie asking Claire to touch the horseshoe because of superstition but she only touches it because it’ll make him happy. I honestly can’t. My bbys are coming back.

9. When Jamie just said women and red heads are both bad luck but Claire only acknowledges Jamie’s. HAHAHAHA married.

10. Wow, I didn’t expect Jamie and Claire PDA but I am loving this. I love how automatic their hands are with each other in this hug. All these banana talk is too telling. I love cuddly Frasers.

11. Besides Fergus, yet again, interrupting a sweet moment…FERSALI HAS ARRIVED (and married)!!

12. I love Jamie’s sarcastic face talking to Fergus and Marsali. “You hardly know each other” - JAMES, JAMES, have you forgotten your own wedding? ;)

13. Marsali’s annoyance with Claire is seeping. She just calls her names even when Jamie and Fergus asks her not to. Also, I kinda liked that she defended her mother because she’s her family first despite what she’s done. I remember Lauren Lyle’s tweet that Marsali not being the “meek and obedient” type and she was right. Well, girl, you’re just like Claire more that you like. Plus, I love that Claire doesn’t hide the fact that, she too, doesn’t like Marsali all that much.

14. Marsali will not be bug down. Jamie is surrounded by fierce, outspoken women in his life. His mother, sister, wife, daughters…

15. “We’ve been parted for 20 years and you want me to room with her?” I think we all know what Claire’s plans were ;) HAHAHA Plus, I love that even in their rocky start, Claire still knows her hold over Jamie and I love it. I miss this dynamic.

16. Jamie Fraser, the king of all men, cannot sing, cannot wink and cannot stand being in the sea. I know that somewhere deep down Claire is temporarily enjoying Jamie’s state of disposition.

17. Claire and Jamie talking about Fergus like the family conversations they missed the past 20 years. These two, no matter how awkward their situation is, they will always choose to say what they need to and actually have a decent conversation.

18. Claire and Jamie talking about their wedding like it was three (and not twenty) years ago gives me the feels. I love that they remember it still so much.

19. Our things? Love that she was surprised it’s BOTH their stuff. Love that Claire didn’t think someone would save something of hers the past 20 years. Love that the first thing she thought was being practical and that she would’ve been fine with it being gone. Love that Jamie but in so quickly that he couldn’t bear losing memories of her. Love that Claire recognized her cloak and didn’t like Marseli wearing it. Love that Claire finally has some change of clothes. Love that Jamie says that there’s still more clothes saved back home. PS. Can someone make a FF where Jamie is just reminiscing through the clothes please? :) Also, there’s some debate on whether it was right that Jamie kept and not sold them for money as Lallybroch was struggling (See @OutlanderCostum tweets). Honestly, for me, sentimental things as such are priceless. If it were the not the really, really, really, last resort, I wouldn’t let them go either.

20. Humorous Frasers are my favorite. I love their inside jokes. Ahhh, seriously, this couple destroys me with feels.

21. Of course, something goes awry and who’s fault is it? Our favorite duo. Seriously, can’t they catch a break, at least once? BTW, I love seeing Dr. C.E.B.R Fraser in action!

22. Father-Son moment with Jamie and Fergus. “If you were forced to marry milady, then I’m forced to breath, my heart, it is forced to beat” THIS IS HONESTLY ONE OF THE BEST AND MOST ROMANTIC LINES. Fergus sees and knows how true their love is, no matter how much each downplays it. I love that Fergus remembers their brief time together all those years and how that feelings never changed. Jamie is still not making good arguments. So far, everything is biting him back in the behind. (Is their a FF where Fergus tells Marseli memories of Jamie and Claire and shares how pure they truly were?)

23. I may have rolled my eyes when Jamie imposed Fergus to be TOTALLY HONEST with Marseli about his rendezvous past. I mean, come on.

24. I thought Claire, being a woman of the 20th century, would probably have knowledge and amenable to superstitions and how much it wouldn’t bother following them if without harm. After all, she grew up with an archaeologist and was married to a historian, so for sure, she knows many cultures and traditions. And here she is, dining with the captain, questioning why she should follow the ridiculous ideas of the seas. But still, I love that Claire shares her insight still, and thank goodness, the captain is a little bit more open-minded about this. Just a thought.

25. MR. WILLOUGHBY/YI TIEN CHO IS HERE!!! His threat to Jamie’s manhood is very convincing.

26. Claire and Marseli in each other throats and no one is backing down. Love that Claire, assuming as she was, doesn’t back down to Marseli nor does try to explain herself.

27. Caitriona Balfe just looks gorgeous in that blue outfit. I love the added belt and bag. I love that it doesn’t go all the way down to the floor and shows her gorgeous shoes. This is, so far, probably my favorite Claire look! The sun is so good on their skins too. I ABSOLUTELY LOVE HER HAIR. I love tan Jamie and Claire!

28. I wonder how Jamie and Claire survived weeks with Jamie’s vomiting and I wonder where their conversation would have gone hadn’t Marseli and Fergus interrupted them.

29. I love how they both turn around as Marseli and Fergus approach them. Like what’s that about? :D

30. I must give so much credit to Fergus and Marseli for fighting for their relationship. I must give credit to Claire for trying to help them out. Marsalis face when Claire defended them was priceless. Jamie acting like the “stoic dad” and Claire as the “convincer mom” and this indirect parenting scene gives me so much joy.

31. Yi Tien Cho and Claire friendship is marvelous. I love that Claire has genuine interest in getting to know him. “A story told is a life lived” line is so powerful, at least to me.

32. Claire VO scene. I love that she’s smiling making the medicines. The script had a deleted scene where Claire was actually singing and humming but at least, one can see that Claire is actually enjoying the voyage….SO FAR. ;)

33. I love that she go grabs Jamie to listen to some songs :D

34. I love the acupuncture scene. My favorite of the episode. I love how shocked Jamie and Mr. Willoughby was, being caught on act. And enter Claire, who bears the look more of surprised amusement rather than the fury they were expecting. I love that we see just how deep Jamie’s fears of losing Claire is - that something as simple as offending her ginger tea will make her run away. We see him bracing himself for another round of arguments of why she needs to stay with him because up until this point in the episode, Claire hadn’t really committed herself back to him - she gave direct statements on the cliff, hadn’t really answered about staying with him, when he offered her return to the 20th century, she reasoned Young Ian. Not their relationship. Then Claire, bless her soul, finally said the answer we’re all eager to hear with all the love and it was the perfect. (I currently have Claire’s response as my phone wallpaper for good vibes and feels).

35. She makes him ginger tea twice a day for three weeks and she’ll make them still hadn’t she caught them - if that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.

36. With that argument out of the way, the relief on their faces that immediately changes to that look of love we all know and miss from these two. I mean just look at Claire - like there’s no issue anymore, nothing that she holds against him, doesn’t ask him to explain further, doesn’t ask him for conditions - and neither does he. Because they know that going forward and being together is the most important thing. And then they joke and intimacy resumes without shyness.

37. Jamie and Claire kissing while laughing may have destroyed my feels. I love them so much and this moment is what they deserve for all time. Also, ESKIMO KISSES.

38. Jamie has forgotten about his acupuncture face and Captain Raines, hilariously, calls him out. HAHAHAHA! Mr. Willoughby trying so hard to explain the treatment, the crews horror looks, and Jamie trying to distract them.

39. We are just blessed with so many Claire and Jamie moments this episode! I just love this. A rare private moment for our twosome. Love how Claire approaches him after he’s done with his prayers, Jamie unmoving in her presence. Love how she approaches him first and initiates the intimacy because Jamie is still unsure where his boundaries lie. Love how she kisses him on the cheek and grabs him by the arms. Love how their foreheads touch. Love how they only have love eyes for each other. Love the hugging and kissing. Love that it is soft and tender like the still of the night. Like they’re part of the night. Love how perfect they fit together in the embrace. Like it was always meant to be that way. Love that they have a moment to reflect about Brianna. Love how he hugged her closer to assure her of her decision. Love how they stay that way until the end of the frame. I would have loved though if they included the part where they look at Bree’s pictures again but nonetheless, this scene was beautiful, heartbreaking and perfect. Sam and Cait just nailed this especially the last 10 seconds of this scene.

40. It’s moments like these where I wish Bree could have a way to know and see that her mom is okay and is with her dad and that they both love each other and her very much. I honestly can’t wait for Brianna to meet Jamie next season.

41. Bad luck after bad luck after bad luck… of course, our bbys are to blame. What’s new? :P

42. They are lucky Captain Raines is an open-minded person or else, they’ll be thrown out by now.

43. Jamie is an honorable man but I don’t know how he can make promises of not running out of water and evade a mob of angry sailors so fervently. Also, I love how frequent he refers to Claire as his “wife”. Like he missed calling her that so now he repeats it, over and over.

44. Claire taking charge as well is my favorite aesthetic.

45. YI TIEN CHO TO THE RESCUE. I love his monologue. I love hearing his story and back story. Love his quick thinking about superstitions and how he can make himself a picture of good luck by bringing wind and rain. Completely forgetting about the horseshoe incident. His timing is impeccable. Love how Claire and Jamie asks him after how he knew and appreciated him saving the day and everyone on the ship. And not just for the rain but personally, for helping them heal in some way.

46. Jamie and Claire’s mischievous look when Yi Tien Cho was depicting body parts. These guys have waited weeks and we know what’s coming.

47. Fergus and Marsali kissing behind Jamie and Claire’s backs is the ultimate family moment.

48. Hallway swinging, INTENTIONALLY falling to each other, “The Wedding” soundtrack starts to play in the background, laughing, breathing heavily, the electricity in their look. Claire and Jamie enter the first door they find. Weeks of abstinence, this intensely hot make-up follows.

49. OMG we get the bang this episode. I love these kisses more than in 306. More urgent, hungry, and loving. Cait’s jaw line is gorgeous. Claire asking him to hurry up. Pants must be harder to navigate than kilts. Claire complaining about the heat in the room - girl, i don’t think it’s just the room. LEGS. FUNNY BANTERS ABOUT GETTING CAUGHT I AM DEAD. CLAIRE/CAIT’S LAUGH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ACTION. THIS IS LOVE. She holding his face to hers. They don’t care who hears them, they waited weeks for this. This is too hot for words. They don’t seem like 50-year old people to me, then again, what do I know? This is just beautiful because they come together just out of pure love for each other with abandon and nothing else weighing on them.

50. Whoever is in charge of cinematography this episode, I love you. These scenes are precious. I love how they’re sprawled together on the floor and love how her skirt beautifully covers them. I love their positioning. I love their content smiles. I love how their locked away in their own little bubble. I love how they fit together. I love how Jamie loves the grey. KING OF ALL MEN line- writers, I see what you did there. I love this love reaffirming scene between them because now, they brace for…

51. TROUBLE AHEAD. I should’ve known we won’t last in our happy bubble forever - or at least until the end of the episode. The British just can’t leave Claire and Jamie alone.

52. Claire’s pained face at the thought of being separated with Jamie again broke me. Shockingly, she didn’t protest to his plan this time and gave her promise immediately. Wow, they are older and wiser. I hate seeing them apart. These two just can’t get away from…adventure, can they?

53. TOM LENNON - I SEE YOU AND DON’T LIKE YOU.

54. Dr. CEBR Fraser is back and I love when she takes command. Jamie’s face when she talks medically is half proud and half scared. Claire’s horror face when Jamie refuses to let her see patients.

55. Props to Jamie for trying to talk Claire out of it. Props to them for talking about it like the mature married couple they should be. Props to Claire trying to explain to typhoid fever to comfort Jamie with the idea that she can’t catch a disease not yet known in 1768. I love that Claire takes so much pride and honor in her oath as a doctor just as equally the same as Jamie’s oath as a soldier. They both live dangerous lives and both respects and loves each other for pursuing it. I love that they kiss in agreement and that sexy look Claire gives Jamie after he agreed is just enough to leave him wanting more of her and them. Goodness, the chemistry between these two is electric.

56. RING TOUCHING. I NEED MORE FRASER HOLDING HANDS MOMENTS.

57. I love how Jamie will literally not take his eyes off the ship.

58. FEMALE SHIP SURGEONS IN 1768 PEOPLE!

59. THIS SHIP IS REEKING I CAN SMELL IT FROM THE TV. I almost gagged myself.

60. Dr. Claire giving instructions these men don’t want to be bothered with so Tom Lennon KIDNAPS her. WHAT THE HELL

61. CLAIRE’S PAINED LOOK AT BEING SEPARATED WITH JAMIE AGAIN. I JUST CANT.

Final thoughts:

Since I stopped reading Voyager, I go on watching the episodes with no expectations at all so this episode was freaking fantastic! Probably my favorite of season 3 yet. They gave us many Claire and Jamie moments because we’ll not see them together in a little while - AGAIN - but damn, those were precious scenes. It had a little bit of everything from drama, romance, comedy, action and of course, the ever effective, CLIFFHANGER that we have to wait out until the next episode comes. Can’t wait for more Fergus and Marseli. Can’t wait to see how the last 4 episode plays out. I love this show so much.

#outlander #3x09 #309 #the doldrums #jamie fraser #claire fraser #recap #review #sam heughan #caitriona balfe #starz #outlander starz #sorry if this is long #its what i had in mind while watching #personal

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gabbalot · 7 years

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Another ask meme 👀

So I was tagged by the one and only @merriemelodie who has a knack for making me feel valid on the worst of days, and also who I NEED TO COME UP WITH A SWEET NICKNAME FOR???❤️

The rules are: Post the rules, answer 11 questions, make up 11 new questions, and tag 11 people.

(Or just break the rules like I do. I tag the same people every time I do these so I’ll give everyone a break. If you want to, but don’t feel obligated: @plsetski, @zestyfiretruck, @stregina, @dednout, @vityanikiforova. For everyone else, I’m just being shy but if you see this and want to do it, CONSIDER YOURSELF TAGGED BY ME! And @ me in your response.)

My questions for people are:

If you could, would you choose to download your consciousness into an artificial simulation of life, where nothing really bad ever happens, and all the good things that you want from life happen in a believable way? Or would you rather live your life as it is now? Why?

If you could pick anything to do for your career, without having to worry about money, what would you do?

If you had to describe yourself with a Wikipedia article, or an article from The Onion, what would it be?

What is your favorite gif/meme??

If you could say anything to your younger self, what would you say? Would you say anything at all?

If humanoid androids became normalized and easily-accessible in the future, would you choose one as a companion? If no, why not? If yes, who would you like them to be based on?

What is the weirdest thing someone has every told you they like about you?

Which would you choose, and why: Bring your favorite character(s) to life? Or transport yourself into their world?

If you had to become immortal, what age would you choose to “die” and remain forever, and why?

What are your thoughts on Pluto? Is it a planet? or just a rock?

What is one thing you wouldn’t trade for $1,000,000 (or equivalent in your currency)?

And here are my long-ass answers for Melodieee:

Q1. Have any unpopular opinions? Now’s the time to say them. It doesn’t matter what they’re about; whether or not you think people will care about them, or if it’ll change people’s perceptions of you. Just let ‘em fly.

a:- Okay so…I don’t…really like Autumn…and it might…MAYBE..be my least favorite season…?? ? (I’m sorry, I know). I feel like this is particularly offensive coming from me, since I’m currently living in New England, which is well-known for having the most beautiful foliage during Autumn. But there’s only so much pumpkin spice and scarves I can indulge in before I have to face the reality that The Darkness™ is coming. Funny enough, I don’t have much of an aversion to Winter. (That’s a lie.) (I can’t manage during late February - March). (I barely make it to the end of Winter every year). All in all, this article pretty much summarizes my exacts feelings towards Autumn. Beware though, ~* 🚫 Autumn-lovers DON’T Interact! 🚫 *~, you will be enraged. ☕️🐸

Q2. Do you cling to summer, or are you typically more than excited for autumn? (Or do you not have a strong opinion either way?)

a:- Wellll I guess I sorta addressed this in the first answer? Hahaha. Aha. H a. (I still feel bad about it). But I suppose I don’t really cling to summer, because I have this icky tendency to…spoil good things before they are ready to be ruined??? Like “Ahhh, well am I going to feel bad eventually? Might as well get started on that right now!!”. Feeling Bad is the only thing I don’t procrastinate, lmao. But yeah, I don’t cling to summer (I mourn its death prematurely), and I don’t get excited for Autumn, I just do my best not to feel Too bad overall. I definitely don’t cry, because I Am A Big Kid Now.

Q3. What’s something that you’ve been wanting to tell somebody, but haven’t been able/felt ready to? (Of course, if you’re still not comfortable saying it in a public post, then you definitely shouldn’t feel obligated to do it. This is just for fun. ♥)

a:- The funniest thing is that a lot of the things that leave my mouth nowadays are things that I haven’t been ready to say. But I’ve been lucky enough not to word-vomit anything that’s been truly detrimental to my mental well-being. I’m also lucky to have a few amazing people in my life that I’m able to be quite vulnerable with.

Q4. What would the soundtrack for the film of your life look like? (FOR THOSE WILLING TO TAKE IT UP A NOTCH: if you were to write a Broadway musical about your life, what would some of the songs be titled/be about?)

a:- Let’s see if I can be as dramatic as possible. In terms of a movie soundtrack, I definitely think that the opening scene would be to Tame Impala’s Let It Happen. Once things calm down and fall back into the natural rhythym of grey, expect to enjoy tunes from Radiohead, in particular their track Daydreaming, which plays on repeat in my dissociative head on a regular. When things get desolate, we enjoy The Postal Service’s This Place Is a Prison. When they’re comedic (see: manic), we’re jamming to some Manfred Mann’s Earth Band!! If I could be selfish, I would find my Big Love and/or purpose, and the soundtrack would lighten up with sounds from Coldplay and Active Child. Also, because I am quietly just as dramatic as our favorite witch Georgi Popovich, a few of my Broadway musical song titles include “Sometimes Fireworks Are Silent”, “I’m Sorry For A LOT Of Things, But This Isn’t One Of Them”, “Some Of Us Taste Colors”, “Tequila (TEQUILA)”, and of course “2D Drawings Are As Strong A Medicine As Any”, which has a b-track “Music Is Morphine (Which is Also a Poison)”.

Q5. What’s a poem, story, or song lyric that you think about often? What about it captivates you?

a:- I’ll give you an entire song full of lyrics: The song Bloodstream, which is so aptly named for how deeply I feel it whenever I listen to it. It epitomizes the concept of soulmates for me, which I don’t believe is always a “happy-go-lucky” scenario, sometimes soulmates are just that - a split of your soul, a piece of you in another body, no sparkles and lovehearts, just another self in another form whose destiny is entwined with your own. As someone who isn’t sure they believe in soulmates irl, here’s why the song strikes me - The vocals are a bit eerie, and ever-so-slightly tired. It must be exhausting searching for a missing half. The recurring piano chords in the verses of the song make it feel a little bit like a memory. I imagine that’s what Deja Vu sounds like, which I find to be fitting when you think about all the subtle instances that have connected your life with someone else’s without you even noticing, but sometimes you just feel it. Then comes the chorus, more profound in its intensity, and all of a sudden it’s the realization hitting you like “Ahh, yes. This is the one I can’t live without. I see it now”. And then there’s the bridge, the melody changing again, acting as a flashlight as you wade through the murkiness of Doubt and Uncertainty, and leading you finally to the door of Acceptance. And once you’ve accepted it, and really digested the fact that you aren’t alone, you just float along - adrift but comfortable, because you realize that you aren’t drowning like you thought you would, or like you’ve been all this time. (That was cryptic AF, what does All That even mean??). Idk. I just feel the song deeply and I’m not really sure how to express why. 🎭

Q6. If you had to epitomize yourself with a Wikipedia article title, what would it be?

a:-I think may be Learned Helplessness.

Q7. What do you daydream about?

a:- I have two persistent daydreams lately. One is to lay in a meadow and just rest in a shady spot with the sun’s warmth peeking through the foliage, probably for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t mind being stuck in a time loop if it meant existing somewhere like this or this. I actually have this one saved as my desktop wallpaper at work. I stare at it throughout the day and it brings me peace. The second daydream is imagining what it would be like to go out and get roaring drunk with Yuuri and Pichit. Like…can you imagine the shenanigans??

Q8. What’s your go-to character/kart/track in Mario Kart? (ANY ITERATION)

a:-Toad…..and raiNBOW ROAD BINCH!!! FIGHT ME. #ChaoticEvil

Q9. What’s something people would be surprised to learn about you?

a:- IRL? People would be shocked that I’m pan/bi. Literally no one knows. Friends and family respect that I consider myself asexual, or at least non-sexual, but no one actually knows that I’m not straight. I have hinted on occasion, but growing up in one of the most homophobic and heteronormative societies means that if people haven’t seen you date anything but cis-gendered men (even if it was only for 6 months when you were 14 years old??) then it means you’re straight. Straight until proven otherwise (and simultaneously shunned by extended family for being The Gay Cousin™ ).

Q10. If you could name a crayon/nail polish color, what would it be, and what would the color be?

a:- Tbh, I’m the least creative when it comes to these things, so most likely it would be some sort of holographic sparkly fluorescent pink color, and the name would be “Trophy Husband” (because it reminds me of Victor).

Q11. What’s a question you wish I would’ve asked? ASK/ANSWER IT HERE.

a:- AHHHH THE PRESSURE idk IDK. Ummmmm how about “What do you like most about following me?”. And the answer would be that your tags and writing in general just hit me right in the feels, every. damn. time. Your sense of humor is also A+, it’s never mean-spirited, and you just generally provide a safe space for me to exist comfortably at the end of each day. You’re also incredibly observant, and I feel like I’m a slightly bigger and more important speck in this universe because of you. Thank you for being here ❤️.

THE END.

#here i go again #LONG post #personal #ask meme #😍❤️#that answer to question 5 though...sorry for being a literal lunatic???#what was I rambling about at 4 a.m.??#w hy

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howterrifying · 7 years

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+sherlolly: the admirer (final chapter)

I honestly never thought this day would come, but here it is! I hope this was all worth your while, my dears! I hope you'll enjoy the bonus epilogue at the end. ;) Ahhh, this is it! To those who have made it thus far, I wish I had a huge medal to give you, or like a big cheque for your time but unfortunately, all I have to give is my love and gratitude. Thank you so much for sticking with this drama queen. xx

All previous chapters of The Admirer can be found here or on FF.net.

The Admirer: The final chapter

It was just two days before the 18th of May, the day of John and Mary’s wedding and by some miracle, Mary had managed to get Molly’s dress done in time. At first, Molly had been hesitant to be part of Mary’s bridal party but Mary had insisted, saying Sherlock’s expression would be worth all of this. The thought of what Sherlock would think or say sent both excitement and terror through Molly. Buying a ticket home and wrapping everything up in Japan (with plenty of Ayumi and Mycroft’s help of course) had been the single most impulsive thing she had done. Still, she could not deny the current of anticipation that ran through her every time she thought of seeing Sherlock again. She imagined his face and wondered if it would be filled with the same anticipation and delight. Molly was positive he would be delighted to be reunited with Scott, but she was never sure what his response to her would be. Perhaps she had read it all wrong and he had indeed adjusted back to his Baker Street life as a solitary unit bound only to his work. Yet, her instincts told her something else, which was what ultimately pushed her to take the risk and come back home to London. “Oh, Molly, I know you were afraid lilac wasn’t really your colour but just look how lovely it works on you…” said Mary, delighted. “I suppose it does work,” Molly remarked, smiling as she studied her reflection. “Thank you for rushing to get this done. I told Mycroft going incognito as a guest was more than enough…” “You? A simple guest?” Mary said with a chuckle, “Nonsense. You’re more important than you realise, Molly Hooper. And, like I said, Sherlock’s face when he sees you walking down that aisle is going to be worth everything.” When the ladies were done with the fitting, Mary pulled Molly in for a hug and whispered, “You know, he will be so happy to see you, Molly…” “Will he?” Molly asked, “Sometimes I’m not sure what I’ve just done…” “Well, has it made you happy?” “Yes. So far it has.” “Then that’s all there is to it.” Mary gave Molly a quick peck on the cheek and another reassuring squeeze before letting her go. The two of them parted ways, both with smiles on their faces. A very important day was coming up, not just for the Watsons, but for Molly Hooper too. — “I know you don’t think I’m very busy, Mycroft…I mean, I don’t run errands for the Queen or protect the whole of England but I can’t just be summoned out from my own clinic at your beck and call, you know…” remarked a rather exasperated John who was being ushered into Mycroft’s office again. “I would never leave your practice in the lurch, John. My stand-in doctors are running your clinic as though you’d never left it.” “Well, that’s reassuring,” John replied, sinking with resignation into an armchair. “We need to discuss the wedding,” said Mycroft, cutting straight to the point.” John sighed. On one hand, he was overjoyed that the woman who was clearly important to his best friend was finally back home and was possibly going to make their wedding even more special than they could have ever imagined. On the other hand, however, it meant even more incessant interruption from Mycroft and more meddling from the British government than John could have ever anticipated. “Are you going to bomb-sweep the venue again or something?” asked John, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Oh, no, no,” Mycroft said with a dismissive laugh, “Bomb-sweeps are things of the past. We have new methods now that I cannot tell you about.” “Pity. I was all ears…” “I need to know that you’ve managed to keep Molly Hooper’s arrival secret from Sherlock. I imagine he’s spending lots of time with you and Mary as the wedding draws near. He’s rather involved in all its operations, is he not?” “A little too involved, in fact,” John said, “Which worries me sometimes but Mary finds it amusing.” “Oh, I wouldn’t worry. It keeps him occupied, which is always a good thing.” “Well, with such reassurance from you and Mary, I guess I shan’t.” “But he doesn’t know about Molly, does he?” “Nope. Not even a genius like him has deduced a whiff of it.” “Good.” “Mary’s been the one calling the shots anyway. She’s awfully good at this. Makes me wonder if she was a spy in a past life or something…” said John with a chuckle. “Perhaps…” Mycroft answered wryly, “Who knows these days…” Suddenly, a knock came on the office door as one of Mycroft’s assistants appeared in the open doorway. “Sir, it’s done and ready for your inspection,” said the assistant quietly. “Already?” he asked the assistant, “I had been regretfully told to expect it until after the wedding…” “They were afraid to…upset your schedule, sir,” came the assistant’s reply. “This is splendid news,” said Mycroft, genuinely breaking into a smile. “What is?” asked John, marvelling at the sight of Mycroft’s actual teeth. Mycroft signalled to his assistant to ready his car as he picked up a few dossiers off his desk to read whilst on the way. “Come on, John,” said Mycroft, “I hadn’t expected such serendipitous timing but since you’re here I think you should join me.” “Where are we going and what am I joining you for?” “We’re off to Baker Street,” Mycroft replied, smiling, before turning to walk out of his office. When the two gentlemen arrived at Baker Street, John was surprised to see people moving in and out of the building, with Mrs Hudson standing by the door, beaming away in excitement. “Judging by that look on your face, Mrs Hudson, I trust it’s gone all to plan,” he said, greeting the landlady. “I couldn’t resist and had to take a peek,” she whispered excitedly. “Oh! Wasn’t expecting to see you here, John!” The landlady moved to give John a hug and a kiss on the cheek. When she saw John’s furrowed brows and the obvious confusion he was feeling, she could not help but laugh. “He doesn’t know, does he?” asked Mrs Hudson, turning to Mycroft. “Not in the least,” Mycroft replied. “Well, shall we?” With Mrs Hudson leading the way, the two gentlemen made their way up the stairs to Sherlock’s flat. When they emerged in Sherlock’s sitting room, they saw a few men dusting and vacuuming the area and obviously doing a massive clean-up. A few others were seen moving what looked like folded cardboard boxes and huge rubbish bags out from John’s room. “What on earth is going on here?” John exclaimed. “Why don’t you step into your old room and find out?” said Mycroft, very generously offering John the first view of what had been Mycroft’s secret project. “All right then,” said John with a nod. With a tentative step forward, John placed his hand on a familiar doorknob and twisted it open. When the door opened, the first thing that struck him was the smell of freshly sanded wood. In fact, there was the scent of overwhelming newness in the air. True enough, when John opened the door fully and stepped inside, the entire room was nothing like he had remembered. “Was this your idea, Mycroft?” John asked, smirking, turning to face Mycroft. “Well…” Mycroft seemed hesitant to answer. “Yes, it was,” Mrs Hudson answered on his behalf. “It was entirely his.” What John saw was an incredible transformation. The room had been newly wallpapered with a fresh, springtime-inspired design. Shades of lemon yellows and mint greens and blues peppered the design of the room, from the cushions on the new arm chairs, to the bedding of what was clearly the central feature of the room: a large, sturdy wooden cot. “This…is all for Scott,” John exclaimed in amusement, picking up a baby’s pillow and blanket that had Scott’s initials embroidered on them. “Isn’t it wonderful?” Mrs Hudson said, almost bursting with excitement. Indeed, what had been John’s old room was now converted into a most wonderful nursery. There was the sturdy, hand-finished wooden cot that Mycroft had designed by the best in the country, the luxurious armchair and side table, and the desk tucked in the corner, equipped with everything Molly needed in case she needed to work there. The nursery was beautifully lit with custom designed lighting and had everything from the drapes to the carpet finished to perfection. “That changing table looks like it costs more than my whole house, Mycroft…” John joked, walking over to a most impressive looking changing table with all sorts of customised features and secret drawers and compartments everywhere. “This is beautiful. I didn’t think it was possible, Mycroft, but you’ve really outdone yourself.” “Wait till you find out about all the security features in this room,” Mrs Hudson whispered to John.” The pair of them laughed as Mycroft stood, scanning the room, oblivious to their chatter. He was quietly examining that everything had been done according to his very meticulous demands. A small smile finally appeared when Mycroft had ascertained that everything was indeed in order. “I have a question, Mycroft,” John asked, snapping Mycroft out from his inspection. “Hmm?” “How did Sherlock not notice any of this?” “Simple, really…” Mycroft answered, walking over to check a hidden compartment in the window sill. “Surely he would have been irritated by all the people coming in and out…” continued John. “Locking this room wouldn’t have kept him out either…” There came a small laugh from Mycroft as he tapped a small section in the window sill only for a small little device to pop out from it. He bent to take a closer look at it and smiled in satisfaction that it had been properly installed before popping it back in. “All I had to do was to turn this into a blindspot,” Mycroft began, “and our mother is Sherlock’s greatest one.” “Oh god… Yes, I remember now…” John said, “I even asked if she was moving in.” “You did? Well I’m glad you did. Any additional mention of mother always helps. All it took for me was to mention our mother had something to do with the room and it sent him running. I could commit whole murders in here and he wouldn’t have had the slightest clue simply because he would have blocked everything out.” Mrs Hudson and John stood where they were, amazed at how Mycroft had allowed the largest clue to Molly’s arrival in London go unnoticed by Sherlock when it stood here, right in the heart of his own flat. “Right, I think we’d better go,” said Mycroft, turning to exit the nursery. “My brother is returning soon and we wouldn’t want to spoil everything, would we? Not after we’ve come this far.” — It was only the morning of the wedding day and John was already exhausted. He had spent the whole morning finding ways to stop Sherlock from going to inspect the bridal party in his compulsive bid to check that everything was in order. “It’s fine, Sherlock,” John said, “Mary’s got everything under control, her maid-of-honour’s there…the wedding planner’s there…” “Janine’s duties are confined to watching over Mary. As for that wedding planner you hired, well, let’s just say I could give him a run for his money…” “Look, Sherlock, we all know you’ve got this wedding planned to a T, so let’s just relax. How about you focus on getting us lads ready and to the church on time eh?” “I suppose I can’t be in two places at the same time…” “Sorry to remind you, Sherlock, but you’re not omnipresent.” “Well, we all have our shortcomings…” “Enough. Let’s just sort my tie out and get to the church…” The two men eventually stepped out of John’s suite and began walking to the church. Sherlock was still trying to hop over to the bridal suite because he was not confident the ladies knew what to do with their corsages or if they were going to hold their bouquets correctly. Eventually, with great patience and great persuasion, John managed to keep Sherlock quite literally out of the ladies’ hair and to the church to prepare for the ceremony. Before they knew it, the hustle and bustle of the morning began to settle as the wedding ceremony soon approached. John and Sherlock were stood by the altar at the end of the aisle, watching the church hall fill steadily with guests. “You nervous?” John asked Sherlock. “No. Are you?” “Of course, I am. I’m getting married.” “So why are you asking about me?” asked Sherlock. “You don’t like crowds, nor social events, nor anything sentimental or romantic. This is an unfortunate amalgamation of those things. I thought I’d just check.” “I’m fine,” said Sherlock, inhaling sharply. “This is your day. I won’t ruin it. I had promised.” “Well, just…take it easy, all right?” John said, amused, “The girls know what they’re doing. You have to let it go.” “But those bouquets have to be held precisely at the angle at which…” “Sherlock…” “Sorry. I’ll just…stand right here.” Sherlock had lied, of course. There was an impossible knot in the pit of his stomach. Him wanting to fuss over bouquets and corsages was his own way of distracting himself from the terrible anxiety he was feeling. As best man, his place beside John meant all those eyes that were looking at John also looked right at him. It did not help that much later on, he would have to give a best man’s speech in front of those very same people. Swallowing hard, Sherlock tried forgetting his anxiety by checking the flower arrangements on the pews and was just about to run down to adjust a slightly drooping leaf when John nudged Sherlock in the ribs to signal that things were about to begin. The pianist had taken her position as the vicar invited the congregation to stand. Sherlock felt a moment’s relief as all those gazes averted from where he was standing and moved to stare at the church entrance. When the doors swung upon, the day’s sunlight poured in and Sherlock could see the figure of the page boy walking in. As he relaxed, he found himself being able to smile a little. Sherlock took a quick glance at his best friend and saw that his eyes were already glistening with emotion. Nothing could have distracted John’s gaze from those open church doors as he stood in anticipation of his bride’s entrance. A few piano chords in, Sherlock could see Janine, the maid-of-honour, following behind the page boy. The first thing he did was to inspect the way she was holding the bouquet and was pleased she had remembered his instructions from the wedding rehearsals. Two more bouquets, he thought to himself as Janine continued walking down the aisle. There was the second bridesmaid, and then a few piano chords later, the third one, both holding their bouquets correctly, as per his rehearsal instructions. In a few more chords, Mary, in all her resplendent beauty would step through those doors and begin her walk down the aisle. No matter how nervous he was feeling, Sherlock could not help but be filled with excitement as he waited to see Mary, someone he now considered near and dear to him, come down the aisle. So when an unidentified fourth bridesmaid appeared in the church’s doorway and began her walk down the aisle, Sherlock felt his excitement turn into slight panic at this unexpected change of plan. However, as his eyes slowly focused on this fourth bridesmaid and as her identity slowly became apparent, it was no longer panic that he felt, but sheer disbelief. The wedding march music seemed to drown out as his ears filled with the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. When Mary eventually walked in, John caught her eye through her veil and they both smiled. Gesturing with a quick tilt of her head, Mary signalled to John to take a quick peek at his best friend. John turned around and had a swift glance at his friend who seemed transfixed by the fourth bridesmaid whom he knew by now was Molly Hooper. Trying his best not to laugh out loud, John turned back to focus his attention on Mary, whom, in a few moments, he would finally marry. The piano music reached its climax just as Mary reached to take the arm of John Watson. The maid-of-honour, the two bridesmaids and Molly all took their positions in a neat row beside the bride. Sherlock had not once stopped staring at Molly. The last time he had doubted what his eyes had seen was when he had been drugged by a powerful hallucinogen. Sherlock was sure nothing of that sort was in his bloodstream and yet, could not believe what he was seeing. As the guests took their seats and the church hall quietened down, Molly finally looked up from her bouquet to glance over to the groom’s side. There, her eyes met with Sherlock’s that had been locked in on her the entire duration. A gentle smile appeared on her lips and Sherlock, too shocked to respond, merely blinked in rapid succession, with his mouth slightly agape. Trying hard not to laugh, Molly bit down on the insides of her cheeks and returned her eyes to couple at the altar. This was their special day and she intended to give all of her attention to it. She would deal with the short-circuiting detective at a more appropriate time. The wedding had gone perfectly according to plan and when the church bells rang, John and Mary raced down the aisle, hand in hand and laughing as the newlyweds, Mr and Mrs Watson. Molly and the other three bridesmaids ran after them, laughing and cheering as the guests clapped and threw flowers outside the church. Nothing but happiness filled the air and John and Mary’s faces shone brighter than the late morning sunshine. As the photographer snapped away and people continued cheering and clapping, the bridesmaids stood around the couple, smiling along with them and posing with their bouquets. “Just the couple now, please, if you don’t mind!” said the photographer, asking everyone in the bridal party to step out of frame. Everybody obliged and stepped aside whilst the photographer continued to take pictures, occasionally calling out instructions to the couple. Molly stood at the side, beaming away as she watched the happy couple clearly having one of the best moments of their lives. Being able to witness their happiness made Molly especially glad that she had come back, back home to her friends, to her family. “Do you have a moment?” came a quiet but not unfamiliar voice just behind her. Molly turned around and saw the very face she had come back for smiling gently at her. She nodded, smiling in return. Sherlock extended his arm and she took it. Together, they slipped back into the church, away from the revellers. With her arm looped comfortably in his, the pair of them walked quietly into the church, unaware of the amusing fact that they were in fact strolling slowly down the aisle. Sherlock led them to the very first row of pews and sat down. Molly joined him and the two of them took a moment to enjoy the peace and quiet of the empty hall and the way the light streamed in, taking with it bits of colour from the stained glass windows. For a long time, neither of them said anything but neither were they uncomfortable with the silence between them. It took a while but eventually, for the first time since the morning, since all the wedding madness and the shock of seeing Molly, Sherlock could feel his chest start to ease a little as he relaxed. “Are you okay?” Molly asked gently, after she saw him take an actual, normal breath in. “Yes,” he said, exhaling slowly after. “Yes, I am.” He turned to Molly and studied her carefully, trying to ascertain that his eyes truly had not deceived him. “Are you back?” he asked, unknowingly furrowing his brows. Molly chuckled at his question and reached to take his hand. Her heart quite nearly melted when she felt his fingers weave themselves just as eagerly between her own. “This feels lovely,” she remarked quietly, looking down at their hands. Perhaps it was the strain from the morning’s anxiety, or the overwhelming emotions that flooded the detective’s now-functioning heart, but Sherlock simply had no capacity to contain himself anymore. In one swift movement, his free arm reached for Molly, pulling her towards him whilst his other hand remained firmly held in hers. As a dam of relief burst inside Molly, she let him hold her and rested her forehead against his chest. The sound of his heart was deafening, but with hers pounding equally hard, Molly could not be sure whose heart it was she was hearing. “Are you back?” Sherlock asked again, his voice even softer now. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” Molly replied, smiling against the fabric of his jacket. “For how long?” he asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer. “Well, I’ve been given a position at Bart’s…I don’t have a ticket back to Tokyo…” she began. Sherlock blinked at her words and pulled himself away so as to face her. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the corners of her lips lift to smile almost playfully at him. Molly’s eyes shone like he had never seen before and for a brief moment, they stole away the impact of her words. “You’re back…for good?” he remarked warily as her words slowly sunk in. “For good.” she said, nodding at him. “But why?” he asked, staring at her curiously. “Why?” Molly asked back with a laugh. “Everything was going well for you there…you and Scott were fine, your work was making excellent progress, Ayumi was there…” “But it’s better here,” Molly interrupted gently, reaching to take both his hands in hers. “It’s just…better here, Sherlock.” He stared at her as though she had spoken in some unknown language. There was no reason for her to remove herself from all that she had so wonderfully established in Tokyo. It did not make sense that anything could be better, and certainly not here. “Was it my brother?” he said, eyeing her again. “Did he actually succeed this time?” “No, it wasn’t Mycroft,” chuckled Molly, “He’d be pleased you thought so highly of him though.” “Did something happen? Did you get hurt?” he asked, his eyes widening a little in fear. “No, Sherlock…” Molly replied, trying to calm him down. “Then what is it?” he asked, trying to focus on enjoying the feeling of his hands in hers instead of panicking. Molly dropped her head to look down at their intertwined hands, a sight she had thought she would never see again. She smiled, then returned to look up at Sherlock, biting down the amusement from seeing the perplexed look on his face. “I love you, Sherlock, we’ve established that, haven’t we?” she said, matter-of-factly. “We have.” It was Sherlock’s turn to bite down a smile. “And that’s why it’s better here,” said Molly, looking right at him. “Is it?” he remarked quietly. “Yes, Sherlock, yes it is,” Molly replied. “But it is better without me. That was established for us, was it not?” he said, fighting his rising emotion with the trustworthiness of logic. “No, I’ve decided it isn’t,” Molly said firmly. “Sherlock…” “Yes?” “It is better here, because you’re here,” she said, reaching to touch his cheekbone, “We’ve established that too, I believe.” They took a moment to stare at each other; Sherlock, processing all that she had said, and Molly, waiting for him to respond. Suddenly, he leaned towards her, took her face in his hands and kissed her gently on the lips. Molly smiled against his lips, grateful for this familiar sensation that she had missed which now washed over her. “You sure about this?” he whispered, his forehead touching hers. “I did leave you my earring,” Molly joked, “One simply cannot go around with merely one ruby earring…” Sherlock laughed. A proper, relaxed laugh. He felt all remaining tension in his ribcage finally ebb away as all the fog in his head began to clear. Molly was here, and it seemed, no matter how illogical it appeared to him, she was here to be with him. “If it’s the earring you’re looking for,” he said, giving her one more kiss, “You’ll have to come to Baker Street.” “Mind if we stayed for a few days?” Molly asked, shifting to lean against Sherlock as he draped an arm around her. “I thought you’d never ask,” Sherlock replied, turning to kiss her once more. Suddenly, Sherlock stood up with a start, startling Molly who also rose from her seat and looked around them. “What’s the matter?” Molly remarked, scanning their surroundings. “Where’s Scott?” Sherlock asked, worried. There came a chuckle as Molly moved to hug the bewildered detective. Sherlock could not help but smile as his arms naturally wrapped themselves around her, feeling instantly calm from her embrace. “You don’t have to worry,” said Molly, “Scott’s in the safest place I know.” — The room was peaceful and quiet, save for the faint sounds of stealthy footsteps that circled the room they were in. Mycroft sat at his makeshift desk and looked out of the window. From there, he could make out the church in the near distance, and just below, he could see the adjacent building, the large reception hall where the Watson’s wedding luncheon was to be held. “I hope it’s going well, don’t you?” said Mycroft. There came no response, other than a sweet smile and the slight clatter of a toddler’s building blocks. Scott Hooper, having grown accustomed to the soothing voice of Mycroft Holmes, looked up at the man who sat beside his play mat and offered him a red block that looked like it was meant to be part of the construction of a fire engine. “Well, thank you very much, Scott Hooper,” Mycroft remarked, gently taking the object from the bright-eyed one-year old who was currently in his charge. The baby giggled softly, happy to hear Mycroft’s voice. Unable to resist, Mycroft reached down to pick the little one up and went to stand by the tall window that he had been spying from. “Your mother’s somewhere in there,” explained Mycroft to the baby in his arms. “And hopefully, if all goes well,” he paused to smile at Scott whose attention was caught by some birds settling by the window, “you, Scott Hooper, are going to become my nephew.” — The day had taken a dizzying turn. His best friend was no longer a bachelor, now married to a remarkable woman, and Sherlock had successfully managed to deliver his speech without insult or causing lasting damage to anything or anyone. There had been tears in the eyes of his audience halfway through, causing Sherlock’s alarm bells to go off slightly before he realised those tears were in fact, normal and acceptable. John’s hug in the middle of his speech had been awkward, but oddly comforting as well. The day was turning out all right. The Watsons had managed to change the seating plan at the last minute without Sherlock finding out and had given Molly a place beside Sherlock at the wedding couple’s table. When his speech was done and he had given the final toast, it was Molly’s reassuring smile and firm squeeze of his hand that convinced him that yes, the day was indeed turning out to be all right. “That was wonderfully done, Sherlock,” she whispered to him. “I’m just glad it’s over,” he said with a long exhale, “And doubly glad you’re here.” “As am I,” Molly replied, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. The Watsons caught Molly’s kiss to Sherlock and both raised their glasses to her, igniting a laugh from Molly and a blush on Sherlock’s face. People being happy for him was something he definitely needed to get used to. Ignoring the continued and embarrassing stares from John and Mary, Sherlock turned to face Molly. His face was so suddenly serious that it shocked her. “Molly…” be began. “Yes, Sherlock?” “We have a few hours to rest before the banquet tonight…” he said. “Yes, we do. Thank God for that, I’m quite exhausted actually,” said Molly with a chuckle. “Could you take me to see Scott? Please?” he asked. Sherlock’s eyes were so earnest that Molly could not help but lean in to kiss him gently on the lips. “You don’t have to ask to see your own little boy, Sherlock,” said Molly, taking his hand in hers. Those earnest eyes from before now lit up in delight at her words. With their hands held, the pair stood up and quietly snuck away to where Molly knew was currently the safest place in the world. — There was the faint hum of dance music coming from the banquet hall where the ‘night do’ continued to rage on. Earlier in the evening, Sherlock had finished his violin performance dedicated to the couple and made one final best man’s speech. Scott, who was now together with his mother at the banquet hall, watched Sherlock’s performance after which he had inadvertently robbed his mother of her first dance with Sherlock, much to her amusement. Once the music had come on, Sherlock leapt off stage and swept Scott up in his arms, spinning around the room with the chuckling baby held close to his chest. Scott had stared, mesmerised at the swirling dance lights on the ceiling whilst Sherlock stared, mesmerised at the beautiful boy he was holding. At the second song, Molly had joined in and their reunited family unit of three managed to successfully dance to the full duration of a rather upbeat disco song. By the time they were finished, Molly and Sherlock were breathless but beaming as Scott continued to chuckle and coo, amazed at all the coloured lights spinning around them. When the beats of the third song began, they said their early farewells and goodnights to the couple and retired to Molly’s suite. Now, that same faint hum of music barely had any effect on the two sleeping figures of Sherlock Holmes and Scott Hooper. The boys had turned out far more exhausted than Molly was. It was close to midnight and Molly, having finally managed to have her bath, was now comfortably in her pyjamas, trying to towel her hair dry so she too could get to bed. Once her hair was decently dry enough for her to get some sleep, Molly took one more peek in her son’s cot to check that he was all right before finally heading to her side of the bed. Sherlock barely stirred for he had fallen into a well-deserved deep slumber. He had had a long day, and Molly was glad he could rest. Suddenly, there came a buzz from her bedside table as her phone vibrated with an incoming message. Sorry for contacting you so late. I just wanted to know how things went, And if everyone’s all right. — MH Molly smiled as she began typing her reply to the man who not only knew all of England’s secrets, but who also knew both Sherlock and her better than they knew themselves. We’re headed to Baker Street first thing tomorrow. — M Splendid. I hope you like the nursery. — MH Nursery? — M Yes. I had one built in the very likely event you and Scott were moving in. — MH Ayumi was right about you! — M I cannot attest to that, but I do know that I was right about you. And about my brother. — MH Indeed you were, Mycroft. — M No more of this separating business, I hope? You’ve both realised by now how terribly essential you are to each other. — MH No more, Mycroft. I told you, and I’ve told Sherlock… It’s better here. — M I’m glad of that. I hope the nursery is to your taste. — MH I’m sure it’s perfect. Thank you, Mycroft. For everything. — M — It was a late Saturday morning and Mycroft was sat in the back of his car on a quiet drive to Baker Street. He seemed calm as he always was, although he had a few worries running through his mind. There had been some updates previously that had worried him and, in his bid to contain things, he had asked for extra security among all of London’s prisons and sanatoriums. Even in his special high-security holding areas, Mycroft had warned his people to keep extra vigilant. The premonitions he had had then about trouble brewing had seemed to come back to haunt him of late. The most recent updates sent by his team had done nothing to allay his fears either. Still, Mycroft was taking advantage of this peaceful morning to forget about these troubles for a little while. It was not often he put work aside. There was nothing worth putting work aside for. This visit, however, was an exception. As Baker Street soon came into view, Mycroft could not help but smile a little to himself. He had been looking forward to today for a very long time. He looked over to his right and glanced at a wrapped present that sat on the passenger seat beside him. Closing his dossiers, Mycroft put them down and picked the present up, ready for his visit. As he made his way up the stairs, it pleased him to hear the sound of light, scampering footsteps. He recognised those footsteps and unknowingly hastened his own. The door to his brother’s flat was open, as usual, so he walked right in. “Mycroft,” came Molly’s voice. She was seated on the sofa with a mug of tea in her hand, watching Scott potter about their sitting room playing with his toys. “Molly,” he said, greeting her with a nod. Suddenly, a small ball of force hurled itself towards Mycroft and he could feel tiny but strong arms wrap themselves around his knees as his precious nephew, three year old Scott Holmes, rushed over to hug him. “Hello Scott,” said Mycroft gently, kneeling down so the boy could hug him properly. The little arms found their way around Mycroft’s neck as they hugged the most powerful man in England. Mycroft lay his present and umbrella down and returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around the little boy. Molly smiled at the sight and secretly stole a photo of them using her mobile phone. However, it did not escape Mycroft, who promptly looked up sternly at her only to break into a half smile. He was so different when it came to Scott. It was as though all the old rules did not apply anymore and Molly could get away with anything. “I’ve brought you a present, Scott,” Mycroft whispered to his nephew who still clung on to him. It was as though a magic word had been uttered and the boy finally released his grip on his treasured uncle, but not without keeping one hand on his shoulder. While still kneeling on the ground, Mycroft retrieved the present he had put down and handed it to the boy. “What must you say, Scott?” Molly remarked from the sofa, making sure her son remembered his manners. “Thank you, Uncle Mycroft,” the little boy said, staring at the colourfully wrapped gift in his hand. “Why don’t you open it?” Mycroft said, smiling at his nephew. “But is it Christmas, Uncle Mycroft?” “Christmas?” Mycroft asked, perplexed. “This is a present for Christmas, right?” asked the boy. “No, it’s not a Christmas present,” Mycroft said with a gentle laugh, “It’s because you’re a big brother now, and you need a present to celebrate that.” Scott smiled, as did Molly on the sofa from where she watched them. Trust Mycroft, an older brother himself, to know how Scott would feel now that a new Holmes baby had entered their universe. With his uncle’s permission, Scott hurried off to his little play area and opened his present. Mycroft picked his umbrella up and got up to walk over to where Molly was seated. Just then, Sherlock emerged from the corridor, having just come from the nursery. “Oh. You’re here.” Sherlock said to his brother. “Yes. Molly said I could come.” “Yes, she told me. Very good timing, in fact.” Sherlock said matter-of-factly, “So, are you ready?” “I’ll give it a go,” answered Mycroft, setting his umbrella aside. In Sherlock’s arms was the newest addition to their family, only a few months old and freshly bathed and dressed. Striding carefully over to his brother, Sherlock gently lowered the infant down as Mycroft positioned his arms to receive her. She had not gone to sleep yet and very calmly looked up at into her uncle’s eyes, frowning only slightly as she tried to register this new face. “Hello,” Mycroft said to the baby. “Very pleased to meet you.” Molly smiled as she sipped her tea, observing her brother-in-law and baby daughter meet for the first time. This time, it was Sherlock who took his mobile phone out to take a photo, except it was probably more for blackmailing purposes than Molly’s more sentimental reasons for doing so. Again, Mycroft looked up at the offending mobile camera phone pointed at him and rolled his eyes at his smirking younger brother. Still, he did not waste time squabbling and instead, returned his attention to the small life in his hands. “You still haven’t told me her name,” said Mycroft, turning to Molly, “I was hoping to get a similar pillow for her with her initials embroidered on them…” “We wanted to keep it a surprise,” Molly answered, smiling at him. “Why would it be?” asked Mycroft. “Well, we named her after you, sort of…” said Molly, reaching to gently touch her baby’s forehead. “But she’s…” “She wouldn’t be here without you,” Molly interrupted, looking earnestly up at him. “Just as Scott might not have made it safely into this world without Sherlock, I don’t think Michaela would have ever existed if not for everything you’d done for us, Mycroft.” Michaela. Mycroft said the word in his head and slowly pieced the information together in the database that was his mind. The feminine derivative of Michael…Mikey, mother always calls me Mikey. Michael, Michaela. “Michaela Holmes,” said Mycroft, unable to resist a smile as he looked back down at the baby. Her eyelids were slowly getting heavy and she let out a small yawn as she slowly fell asleep in her uncle’s arms. “Now that’s a picture worth taking,” Molly said with a chuckle, looking on in amusement as Mycroft gazed fondly at the sleeping infant in his arms. “I want a picture with Uncle Mycroft too,” said Scott suddenly, running over from his corner to nestle close to his uncle on the sofa. “Of course you can have one,” said Mycroft, once again throwing all personal rules out the window for this little nephew. Scott leaned against his uncle who held his baby sister, and grinned widely for the camera. Sherlock took his mobile phone out and snapped away, amazed at how genuinely calm and pleased his brother looked. Frankly, Sherlock could not remember the last time he had seen Mycroft in a photograph other than for official purposes. The gentle smile on Mycroft’s face was a rare sight indeed and Sherlock was glad to have captured it. Whatever purpose he may have intended to use it for in future, he was glad to see his brother smile like that. “You should try having some of your own,” Sherlock remarked in jest, walking over to take over from his brother. “None of my children are screaming or running away, perhaps you’d be rather good at this.” “You’re talking nonsense and you know it,” remarked Mycroft, getting up from his sofa. “Maybe you should make a trip to Tokyo. Like I did.” Sherlock continued, smirking at him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mycroft said dismissively, “Besides, raising you was enough. I’ve had enough fatherhood experience to traumatise me for a lifetime…” Molly laughed quietly to herself as the two brothers began their usual light bickering. However, so much of the tension beneath it seemed to have slowly disappeared. She recalled the first time she had been in this same sitting room with them both and how the air quite nearly choked her from how tense it had become. She was glad to see that after everything they had been through, it was not just Sherlock and herself that had a changed relationship. The brothers too had changed and seemed to have reached a new level of understanding and respect. “Well, I should go. I do have a country to run,” said Mycroft, getting ready to leave. “It was lovely of you to come,” said Molly, getting up as well. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Mycroft said, smiling earnestly at Molly. “Come back soon for another visit. Scott would be so happy to see you again.” “I most certainly will.” Mycroft replied. After one more hug from his nephew, Mycroft walked out of the Holmes’ family door and down the stairs back to his waiting car. The weights on his mind were scrambling to return to burden him, but Mycroft made them to wait a little longer before letting them in. For the first time in a long time, Mycroft allowed himself to relish the bliss of having the family he had; a brother he could not help but want to love and protect, a remarkable sister-in-law, a precious nephew and now, a niece named after him. Mycroft also recalled his brother’s silly remark about Tokyo and was glad he could now smile at the thought in the privacy of his car. “First, England. Then, we’ll see,” Mycroft said to himself, picking his dossiers up again as he allowed all those pending work matters that had been waiting to re-enter his thoughts. — What are you doing now? — SH Why are you asking me such a question? — MH Clearly you’re not busy. — SH Does it matter? — MH Yes. If you’re not busy, it means you have time. If you have time, I think you should get on with it. — SH Get on with what? — MH God. Were we just as frustrating? Go do something about her. — SH Why have you suddenly become an authority as to what I should do? — MH Because you’ll regret it if you don’t get a move on. Take this reminder as me returning the favour. — SH What favour? — MH You gave me my last chance with Molly. I don’t want you to miss yours with someone important. — SH I will tell you if someone or something is important to me. — MH You already have. So go. Don’t be an idiot. — SH Don’t be like you, you mean? — MH If that’s what will make you do something, then yes. Don’t be like me. — SH About two weeks had gone by since Sherlock’s exchange with his stubborn older brother. This stubbornness felt like retribution for all the frustration Sherlock had put him through. Having heard nothing from his brother, Sherlock was surprised to come home one evening to see Molly frantically setting up their dining table and putting out wine glasses despite having received a text from her saying that they were all headed to the Watson’s for dinner. “Hello, what’s happening here?” he asked, taking the utensils she was holding and began to help her arrange them on the table. “We’re headed out, so I need to get this ready before we go!” said Molly, rather frantically. “I don’t understand,” Sherlock said, now taking from her a small vase of fresh flowers and placing it in the centre of the dining table as she had intended. “If we’re eating at the Watson’s, why…” His question was interrupted by the sound of their doorbell ringing. Nobody ever rang the doorbell, not anyone they knew anyway. Sherlock was puzzled and turned to look at a rather rushed and frazzled Molly. “Are you not going to get the door?” she asked, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “Why are we expecting guests if we’re going out?” he asked in return. “No time to explain…” Molly said, already halfway down the stairs. Sherlock followed quickly after and, from the top of the stairs, saw Molly open the door to receive a most unexpected guest. “Ayumi? What are you doing here?” the detective asked, his eyes still wide from shock as the ladies made their way up to the flat. “I’m here to, well…” she began “Have dinner with me,” came the voice of his brother, whom no one had noticed coming up the stairs shortly after Ayumi had arrived. There was an awkward pause as Sherlock scanned the room only to realise now that his entire sitting room had been rearranged for this specific occasion. Molly had pulled out all the stops and shifted all their furniture such that all that stood in the middle of the flat was their beautifully decorated dining table with what was clearly only two sets of cutlery. Several bottles of wine had been left on a side table, also decorated with fresh flowers. “Well, looks like the two of you can take it from here,” Molly said, giving Ayumi a quick hug. “Come on, Sherlock… the kids are already with Mary. We’d better head over quickly.” “Right, uh…” Sherlock was still trying to process the thought that his brother was actually going to sit down and eat a proper meal, and with another human being. “Sherlock, let’s go…” said Molly, yanking her husband by his coat sleeve. When the doors were slammed shut, Ayumi and Mycroft were left standing in the middle of the newly rearranged Baker Street flat. It looked more like a small restaurant than a flat and it amused Ayumi. “Was this your idea or Molly’s?” she asked Mycroft, walking over to take a seat. “The dinner? Mine. The elaborate set-up? Hers. But the whisky?” said Mycroft as he took his seat opposite and placed a familiar looking case on the table, “Ours.” As Mycroft opened the case of their favourite whisky, the one they drank only with each other, Ayumi could not help but smile. How strange that he was doing this. After all their years working together, being together in their unique way, she never expected to be dining with him so ordinarily like this. “We don’t…do this, Mycroft,” she said, leaning across the table, watching him carefully pour them a glass each. “No, we don’t,” he answered simply, handing Ayumi her glass. They each raised their glass, bringing them to the middle as they tapped their glasses with a soft clink. “This really is the best, you know,” Ayumi said, savouring her first sip whisky. “We have good taste,” Mycroft replied, taking a sip from his own. “We do,” Ayumi agreed, with a nod. The pair of them chatted for a little bit, updating each other casually on the places they had travelled to recently and the cases they had closed or had pending. By the end of their first glasses of whisky, Mycroft automatically reached for the bottle to pour them both another when Ayumi stopped him, resting a hand on his. “Mycroft,” she began. “Yes?” he answered. “What’s really going on?” she asked. Mycroft cleared his throat and gently removed his hand from the bottle, which in turn caused Ayumi to release hers. He slightly regretted that but it was too late. “Please don’t tell me you’re dying,” she said, looking hard at him with genuine worry. “No, no, nothing of that sort,” he replied with a furtive smile. “Then what?” “Sherlock,” said Mycroft, unable to put his sentences together properly. “What about Sherlock?” Ayumi continued to ask. “My brother informs me that I might have some..inclinations towards you.” Mycroft paused to take a sharp breath in, “And that it was time I actually did something about them.” Ayumi looked back at Mycroft, startled at a revelation she never saw coming. Was it really Mycroft speaking or a doppelgänger set up as some massive joke? Her mind went blank because she had never prepared for a moment like this. How could she? This was them. They did not do these things. “Oh.” This was all Ayumi could respond with. The two of them stared back at each other, a little lost at this unusual juncture in their interactions. Ayumi was the first to relax a little. Getting up, she shifted her seat to a spot beside him instead of across the table from him. “He calls me your admirer,” Mycroft said, turning to look at Ayumi, “It’s a little inside joke we have.” “Really?” Ayumi said with a wry smile, “You’re not doing secret trades in biological weapons though, are you? Because that’s not very good.” Mycroft looked at her, surprised that she knew the reference, only to then shake his head, laughing quietly. Why would she not know the reference? She was Ayumi. Like him, she too knew everything. “Well, you know me, Ayumi,” said Mycroft, smiling at her, “I’m capable of far worse.” The both of them laughed, fully aware that the power Mycroft wielded in the British government alone meant he truly could have been capable of a lot worse. “Thankfully, you’re a rather good man,” said Ayumi, returning her hand to rest on top of his. “And thankfully, you happen to think so,” he replied. “I know so, Mycroft,” Ayumi remarked, “I’ve always known.” “Well, then I’m very lucky,” he said. “You don’t believe in luck.” Ayumi laughed. “You are an exception.” “That’s rather moving,” teased Ayumi. This time, Ayumi was the one who reached for their bottle of whisky. She unscrewed its cap and poured a second glass for them both. “So, tell me,” she said. “Hmm?” “Is your brother right, calling you that?” Mycroft let out a quiet laugh and set his glass down. Turning to face her, his eyes zoomed in on the necklace he knew she always wore but kept concealed as he began untucking it from where it lay partially hidden by her blouse, revealing the pendant at the end of its chain. The pendant happened to be a ring, a ring that bore the exact same design as the one he always wore on his right hand. “You should know by now, Ayumi,” Mycroft said, holding her ring gently between his thumb and forefinger, “My brother is quite the genius. And he is never wrong.” — The Holmes family had returned late from their dinner at the Watson’s, with both Molly and Sherlock carrying one sleeping child each and, to their surprise, found their flat restored to its original layout. “They really are meant for each other,” Molly whispered, careful not to wake Michaela. “I bet Ayumi did all the furniture shifting,” Sherlock said with a smirk. “But I bet Mycroft wouldn’t have let her. He probably summoned his team or something…” Molly remarked, “I wonder where they’d gone to after dinner.” Sherlock took a quick look round the room, scanning for little clues and signs as to how their dinner possibly went. When he had gathered enough evidence, he looked at Molly with an amused half grin on his face. “I don’t think we should wonder about that,” said Sherlock, inciting a soft chuckle from Molly. Shaking her head at her husband’s remark, Molly headed towards the nursery to put Michaela to bed. Sherlock, with his son sleeping soundly as his head rested against his father’s shoulders, walked over to sit on the sofa instead. With the sitting room all to themselves, Sherlock smiled and tilted his head to quietly observe the little boy sleeping in his arms. He studied the full head of Scott’s chocolate brown hair, the slope of his nose that was distinctly his mother’s and measured the even breaths the boy took while he slept. Unable to resist, he planted a gentle kiss on his son’s hair and rested his cheek against the soft wisps, shutting his eyes as he savoured what he had never imagined he would ever experience. Twenty minutes later, Molly walked out of the nursery to a sight she knew she would never tire of seeing. There, seated on the sofa, was Sherlock, having fallen asleep whilst still tightly clutching onto their son. It confounded her sometimes, how she could never imagine a single moment in Scott’s life without Sherlock being a part of it. From the moment he had been born, Sherlock had been there. In Molly’s heart, there was nobody else who could have been Scott’s father. Sherlock must have felt her eyes on him for his eyelids fluttered opened suddenly and eventually met her gaze. He smiled warmly at her, before carefully manoeuvring himself as he stood up, taking care not to wake the little boy. Together, he and Molly walked to the nursery and put Scott to bed. Sherlock pulled the covers up to his son’s shoulder’s and kissed him softly on his cheek. He then walked over to Michaela’s crib and bent to kiss her too, amazed that this small little life was also his to call his own. “Who would have thought, hey?” said Molly quietly, wrapping one arm around her husband’s waist as the pair of them stood in the middle of their children’s nursery. “I hate to admit it, but if there was anyone, it would have been Mycroft,” Sherlock replied as he too, wrapped his arm around her waist. The couple laughed quietly, not wanting to disturb their sleeping children. Sherlock turned to kiss Molly’s hair as she shut her eyes and leaned in even closer. “Do you remember that one occasion that you had been poisoned?” asked Sherlock, his voice even quieter and suddenly solemn. “I try not to,” answered Molly, “But yes, I do.” “I don’t know what I’d do if that ever happened again,” he whispered, “If I ever had to face losing you, or the children.” “We’ll do our best not to let it happen,” said Molly, looking up at into his anxious eyes. “I wish I could rule it out completely.” “You know that’s not possible, Sherlock.” “I know.” Molly could sense Sherlock’s heart sink in his chest as one of the greatest side effects of sentiment and love began to grip him. “Sherlock,” Molly began, turning to face him. “Hmm?” he said, still lost in his quiet distress. “Focus on what you have,” she said, “And not on what you might lose.” “ But I’d almost lost you,” he said, “Twice.” Shaking her head in amusement, Molly smiled as she recalled the death that almost claimed her and the man that almost did so too. She smiled because in all those times that Sherlock thought she had been lost to him, he could not have been more wrong. “Oh, Sherlock,” she whispered, smiling as she moved to kiss him, “You’ve always had me. Always.”

Epilogue

It was a luxurious country home she lived in, but she knew that every inch of its grandiosity was a prison. Specifically, her prison. Every step she took was monitored, everywhere she turned she knew the eye of a camera followed. No visitors were allowed, but that was never a problem. No visitors ever came, save for her pathetic old man or worse, the insufferable Mycroft Holmes. Evelyn Lancaster sat in one of the many ornate sitting rooms and flipped through a book of poetry aimlessly. She hated reading but one of the few activities she was allowed was that. Eventually, she made it a point to pick a new book as often as she could and challenged herself to see how many pages she could read before wanting to throw the book against the wall. Everything was suffocating and just so boring. “You have a visitor,” said one of the guards to her this morning. “Oh god,” she moaned, dropping the book to the carpeted floor, “Two whole months of bliss and now they return to taunt me. Could you kill him for me?” The guard did not respond for none of the security personnel was allowed to interact with her beyond what their duties stated. She had been informed of her guest and that was all he had been allowed to say. Having no choice but to receive her unwanted guest, Evelyn straightened her blouse and moved to sit on an armchair to await either the blithering idiot she called her father, or the emotionless and utterly unentertaining Mycroft Holmes. To her surprise, however, a smartly dressed young man appeared and her eyes widened in both disbelief and curiosity. “Hello, Ms Lancaster,” said the gentleman, walking boldly into the room. “Oh my,” she exclaimed, rising from her seat as he took her hand and kissed it. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” “Well, I’ve heard a lot about you, Ms Lancaster.” “And I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr Moriarty.” The gentleman laughed heartily and unbuttoned his jacket before taking a seat. “Please, call me Jim.” he said, smiling charmingly at her. “And you can call me Evelyn,” she said, her eyes sparkling. Somehow, Evelyn had taken an instant liking to James Moriarty. It would not have surprised anyone, really, but it was clear from the very beginning that they were going to hit it off. Besides, it impressed her greatly that a wanted man like him, no, a former wanted man, for he was now deceased, found his way into her palatial prison without a single hitch. “How did you manage to find me? Much less get in here?” she asked, genuinely curious. “It’s only Mycroft Holmes,” James replied nonchalantly, “I know where his loopholes are.” “Incredible,” Evelyn remarked, delighted that something entertaining had waltzed into her premises at last. “But the last I heard, James…” “Jim, please,” he reminded her with another handsome grin. “I’m sorry, Jim…” she apologised with a chuckle, “The last I heard, Jim, was that you were dead.” “You mustn’t trust everything you hear, my dear,” he remarked. “I suppose not,” said Evelyn with a smirk, “Tell me then, what brings you back from the grave?” A slow grin appeared across James’ face as he reached into his jacket for a small white envelope. He placed it neatly on the rather elaborate marble coffee table between them. “I have a proposition to make, Evelyn,” James began. “Oh?” “You’re a businesswoman, I am a businessman…well, of sorts,” he said chuckling darkly. “I can’t help you much in here, you know, Jim…” Evelyn said, raising an eyebrow. “Simple, I’ll just get you out,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned back, relaxing into his seat. Evelyn eyed him quizzically, amazed at how simply he viewed what seemed an impossible task to her. There was power behind his words, a power she saw only in one other man; Mycroft Holmes, and it fascinated her. Perhaps there was a way out of this prison after all. “What is your proposition then?” she asked, sitting up in interest. Without a word, James simply slid the envelope over to Evelyn, gesturing for her to open it and take a look at its contents. Evelyn obliged, picking it up and lifting its flap to reveal a few photographs inside it. Carefully, she slid the four coloured photographs out and her eyes lit up in great intrigue. “My, my, James Moriarty,” she exclaimed, looking up at him, “What have you got planned?” Evelyn lay the four coloured photographs down, meticulously positioning them like an open fan and took another good look at them. She smirked at the happy faces she saw in them and tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail on one particular smiling face. “I want them destroyed,” he stated simply, grinning at her. “Not the photographs, of course. Them. Well, mainly him, but you know, the others are part of the package now.” “Yes, I can see that,” Evelyn murmured, picking one of the photographs up to study closely. The photograph had been taken at Bart’s Hospital. Molly had just given birth to Michaela and Scott and Sherlock were with her by her hospital bed, looking down and smiling at the new baby. Evelyn ran her thumb across Sherlock’s face, remembering what those cheekbones felt like under her fingertips. “Why me, Jim?” she asked, her eyes not leaving the photograph, “Why would you go through all the trouble of getting me out just for this?” “Oh, it’s no trouble at all, my dear,” James replied casually. Sitting up in his seat, he startled Evelyn by snatching the photo out of her hand, causing her to look up sharply at him. He took a pen out of from another pocket and began scribbling hard on the photograph, eventually poking a hole in the face of Sherlock Holmes. “I’ve been watching you for some time,” he remarked, continuing to slowly work his way through the faces of Molly and the children, “And believe me when I say…” He paused to toss the now defaced photo of Sherlock Holmes and his family at Evelyn and smiled fiendishly at her. “I am a great fan of your work.”

END

#the admirer by terrified

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