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shooting-the-walls · 5 years

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I watched His Last Vow, and, well..... here are my thoughts again

Quick thing before we start: I choose HLV because it is one of my favourite episodes, and what I feel is one of the best shot episodes. Usually, I can't make it to the end of it because I know what is going to happen and I can't stomach it. Anyway, enjoy my little angst-filled monologue!!!

• Uggggghhhhhh Magnussen is so creepy even to start with

• Quick question: why the fuck does he have "porn preference" in his little file?? Creepy, dude. Real creepy

• I hate Magnussen with a passion but ngl his house is pretty bomb

• Why has a got a statue of a knight on an ostrich, and why does the camera focus on it? Kinda random XD

• Clever how they never show him going down the stairs the storeroom. IMPORTANT LATER ON

• Lady Magnussen when she sees Magnussen: *quietly* what the fuck

• "She looked delicious" "yum-yum": EEUURRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHH

• "I have a condition": is that condition.... being a creepy weirdo???

• HEY SHE MAY BE AN OLD LADY BUT SHE'S A STRONG INDEPENDENT WOMAN SO SHUT THE FUCK UP MAGNUSSEN

• "This isn't blackmail it is.... ownership": uhhhhhh, pretty sure it's blackmail mate

• I'M SORRY BUT WE DON'T JUST LICK PEOPLE'S FACES, WHO WERE YOU RAISED BY DUDE

• The driver knowing something's up: we stan a king

• BAKER STREET YEAAAAAH BITCHES

• The intro mussssiiiiiccccc: it will now be stuck in my head for days XD

• When you miss your bestie: :(

• John being clueless XD

• *doesn't know what to do* *makes tea*

• "He the drugs one?" "Nicely put John"

• "Who's Sherlock Holmes" "See, that does happen"

• I think John feels bad for snapping at her XD

• "THERE IS NOTHING THE MATTER WITH ME. Imagine I said that without shouting": me 24/7

• Dude we know you tryna look sexy but the tyre lever XD

• "It is a tiny bit sexy" "I know": *is forcefully reminded of Boyle screaming "later sluts"*

• "I'm not just browsing": MATE IT'S NOT BLOODY ARGOS LOL

• Why is John so fucking cocky? Like we get you're an adrenaline junkie but Jesus XD

• JOHN BAMF WATSON IS HERE GUYS

• "Nope, just used to a better class of criminal": truth

• "Arse end of the universe with the scum of the earth": Jooooohn be nice

• Sherlock just so casual like " Oh HIIIII"

• "They're havin' a fight": Oh, like..... a married couple....?

• "WEll NoT nOW": we stan a queen XD

• "Alright Shezza?": *John and Mary Watson, Mycroft, Mrs Hudson, Molly and NSY have joined the chat*

• MOLLY YAAAAAAAS QUEEN PUT HIM IN HIS FACE

• "Just. Stop it."

• They are so concerned and Sherlock can't see it and I CAN'T

• "Just some guy" Sherlock: JOHN YOU DIDN'T *is suddenly more in love than ever*

• Sherlock: *hears what he sounds like* *ROLLS EYES*

• Billy knows what's going ON

• "Hang on, weren't there other people?"

• "I've got Mrs Hudson on semi-permanent mute"

• "Why do you do that": IT'S BECAUSE HE LOVES YOU

• "Cross-dressing may have been a wiser path for you": Mycroft your uncle was a bloody QUEEN

• "foR GOD'S SAKE"

John: oh deary me

• The mardy lil "I'm just gonna sit in this chair"

• MYCROFT STOP TATTLING ON YOUR BROTHER

• Also the Holmes parents line dance: I feel like this fact is super underrated XD

• "Just look frightened and. Scuttle": I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

• "I think we'd both find that embarrassing": THE FACT THIS WAS AN IMPROVISATION MARTIN IS SUCH A FAB ACTOR

• "Okay, I'll let you know if I notice"

• "Don't appall me when I'm high": genuinely one of my favourite lines of the entire series

• "God no. Trying to recruit you": Sherlock knows his John so weeeeelllll

• "Stay out of my bedroom" John: *immediately goes for the bedroom*

• JANINE HEYYYYYYYYY

• "Sherl.....": John is having a fucking field day with the nicknames

• John's confused little face XD XD

• "You have a girlfriend" "Yes I have" *JOHN WATSON CANNOT COMPUTE*

• Damn they're starting with the aquarium shit early

• "You got that from a book" "Everyone got that from a book"

• I'm sorry but Sherlock Holmes acting straight it the weirdest thing EVER

• "Maybe I will....": OH GOD. If she knows "what he's really like" (ie gay), then she also knows how much he loves John (she was at the wedding), so she's basically saying "I'll tell him you're in love with him"

• John: OH YES. THIS. THIS IS SOME NICE CEILING. MMM. GOOD CEILING

• John is so hung up on dinner XD

• "With wine.... and sitting....": I love the idea that when Sherlock eats, he just walks around like munching on shit. Like John used to get out of the shower and when he opened the bathroom door Sherlock would be standing there rocking on his heels eating a scotch egg XD

• "It's in the fridge, it kept ringing": me as an adult

• John just being so armed

• OH GOD SHERLOCK YOU'RE SO DAMAGED LIKE SO MANY PRESSURE POINTS

• BITCH DON'T BRING UP REDBEARD

• Oi listen Magnussen you little bitch

• NO PLEASE DON'T

• Shut UP Magnussen: as a Brit I cannot condone what the fuck he's saying. I AM A PROUD BRIT

• WHYYY

• WHYYYYYYY ARE YOU PEEING IN THE FUCKING FIREPLACE: this is why Moriarty was better, the sweetie had manners

• "How do you know his schedule?" "Because I do"

• The fact that Sherlock's checked with Mary if John is available XD

• CAM news: OMG THE CAM LETTER FROM S3E2, it makes sense nowwww

• Sherlock is so good at pick-pocketing

• "...your head kicked in." "Do we really need so much colour?" "It passes the time"

• I'M SORRY HIS CUTE LIL FACE WITH THE RING BOOOXXXXX

• I am fully convinced Sherlock was pretending Janine was John when he made the proposal

• SHERLOCK YOU CAN'T GET ENGAGED TO BREAK INTO A FUCKING OFFICE

• SHERLLL BEING IN LOVE WITH YOU IS NOT HUMAN ERROR, PLS GET SOME SELF ESTEEM

• "Bit rude, I just proposed to her"

• Sherlock immediately knows something's going on

• "...white supremacist so who cares?": SHERLOCK YAAAAS

• "During our own burglary" aka "really u idiot"

• The fact he immediately dismisses Mary: HE'S SO SWEET HE DOESN'T WANT TO RUIN JOHN'S HAPPINESS

• OH MY GOD THE REVEAAAAAAAAAL

• That moment when he realised. He just realises. The deductions he ignored: they could have helped her

• NO MARY YOU SHOT HIM WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS

• I'M SORRY BUT SAYING YOU'RE SORRY DOESN'T RIGHT THIS

• The sirens: again, as I said, the way this episode is made is incredible

• People often remark on who turns up in his mind palace: I totally agree with the idea that the others are his heart, "and you should never let it rule your head"

• SHERLOCK CALLING HIMSELF STUPID IN HIS MIND PALACE OH SWEETIE NO

• The fact Anderson is there tho

• THE FACT THAT EVEN THE FLOWERS TILT JESUS THE DETAIL

• "Don't go into shock, obviously": woooooooow, thanks Mycroft

• Oh Redbeard, the sweet little dog: "They're putting me down too now"

• Oh come on, he was totally looking for John's room when he ran into Mary

• NO NOT THE PADDED ROOM

• You don't understand: I actually can't watch this scene. It freaks me out so much. It's so sad, and the acting is SO GOOD.

• "Pain. Heartbreak. Loss. Death.": I'm sorry, but isn't that everything Sherlock's been through with John almost?

• Magnussen: dude I ain't telling you who shot him

• "It's raining. It's pouring. Sherlock, is boring. I'm laughing. I'm crying. Sherlock, is dying": JESUS THIS SONG

• "Mrs Hudson will cry. And mummy and daddy will cry. And the woman will cry. And John will cry buckets and buckets. It's him I worry about the most. That wife..... John Watson is definitely in danger": THE FACT THAT THAT MAKES HIM COME BACK; I'm sorry but how can you deny Johnlock after that?? He literally COMES BACK FROM THE DEAD for John Watson. Also, note how he misses off Greg and Molly and Mycroft. He thinks they don't care but they do. They care so much, Sherlock.

• "Oh you're not getting better are you?"

• MARY STOP ACTING ALL FUCKING INNOCENT YOU FUCKING SHOT HIM

• "I'm buying a cottage": I mean why not

• The fact that they're fine with each other after insulting each other XD

• I maintain that Janine is Moriarty's secret sister

• "I have an interview with The One Show and I haven't made it up yet"

• "I know what kind of man you are. We could have been friends": AGAIN she totally knows he's gay

• The fact he's self-punishing by turning the morphine down MY BABY

• The fact Greg just wants a video XD: I still want a Special Features on one of the DVDs of "videos from Greg Lestrade's phone"

• Of COURSE Sherlock's broken out, what else were you expecting John?

• Mycroft's little hand gestures like "off you go peasant": we know you love Greg really Myc

• "...stalked him one night" "foLLOWED"

• YOU, JOHN. HE'S PROTECTING YOU YOU DIPSHIT

• The fact Sherlock went back to Baker Street, BLEEDING INTERNALLY, to put John's chair back <3<3<3

• "A façade. Remind you of anyone?"

• Of course you can't Sherlock XD

• The fact he won the house in a card game with a cannibal XD

• I love this scene. Everything just suddenly makes sense. Everything she's said suddenly has a different meaning

• "You were very slow": BECAUSE HE WAS IGNORING THE WARNING SIGNS SO HE DIDN'T WANT TO UPSET JOHN

• "Even Scotland Yard can get somewhere with that"

• I feel like Sherlock had a little bit of a panic when she pulled the gun out, because he KNOWS that John is sitting there and he can't lose John Watson

• She loves John but he loves John too.... too much man, too much

• She can barely turn: the fact she knows that she may have just lost John forever

• YAAAAS WE'RE AT THE HOLMES' GUYS

• "How is it only 2 o'clock, I am in agony"

• "Is this your laptop, Mycie?" "Upon which depends the security of the free world, yes, and you've got potatoes on it"

• "Am I happy, I haven't noticed?" *gets hit with cracker*

• MRS HOLMES WE STAN A QUEEN

• "Someone's put a bullet in my boy and if I ever find out who I will turn absolutely monstrous": *takes tea to said shooter*

• When the dad is the only sane one XD

• I think even Sherlock's dad can see how much his son is in love with John

• I'm sorry but the entirety of the first bit at the Holmes': I STAN IT GUYS

• "What exactly is the point of you!?"

• "What's going on" "Bloody good question": me in physics

• Jesus Mrs Hudson is right Sherlock does look bloody awful

• "...that's me by the way, hello": HE'S SO PROUD AND IT'S SO SWEET

• "IT WAS MY HUSBAND'S CARTEL, I was just typing"

• The fact he tells him to be calm: Sherlock KNOWS that he needs to calm John down to get this sorted out

• Mary, stop being sarcy with him he's tryna sort it out

• "Because you won't love me when you've finished, and I don't want to see that happen": I mean she's not my favourite but I still feel so sorry for her

• "Look at you two: you should've got married": Sherlock: OH BABY NOT MY GAY ASS

• See, Sherlock SAYS that the reason Mary didn't kill him was because John would be part of the murder investigation, but I think it's because she's already seen what Sherlock's death would do to John: she's seen him crying at the grave, seen him drunk and screaming for Sherlock to come back, seen him unable to even walk past St Barts without seeing Sherlock hitting the ground over and over and over again, and she knows she can't do that to him again

• Paramedics: yo we here

• "She shot you" "ehhhhh mixed messages"

• "The problems are your past are your business. The problems of your future are my privilege": GET YOURSELF A MAN LIKE JOHN WATSON

• "You can mow the sodding lawn from now on": the fact John uses his wife's secret identity to get out of chores is such a mood XD

• When your mother catches you smoking: Mycroft: nope wasn't me Sherlock: *immediately blames his brother*

• "Your loss would break my heart" "what the HELL am I supposed to say to that": brotherly feeeeeeeeeeeels

• "Go and have some more": AWWW YOU LOVE HIM REALLY

• Dr Watson voice is baaaack

• Awwww at least he checks they're all still breathing XD

• "You can imagine the Christmas dinners".... GUYS THE OMENS CAME TRUE

• I love the idea that Sherlock just waltzed into Angelo's like "yo can I have a table", and Angelo DIDN'T EVEN QUESTION what he was wearing or the fact he was hooked up to morphine, just said "yoooo, I got your table sorted" and brought him food XD

• The constant flashbacks in this episode are so effective, cos they really bloody fit in

• "My brother": *literally delivers a drugged Mycroft all wrapped up with a little bow on top* "WELL I DIDN'T LIE"

• "Oh yeah we could be imprisoned for high treason btw": Sherlock stop you idiot

• "But it's Christmas!"

• "WHY WOULD I BRING MY GUN!?!!?!?!" "Coat pocket?" "YES"

• "But look how you care about John Watson": even MAGNUSSEN knows guys

• Awwwww Mycroft's pressure point is Sherlock, that's kinda sweet

• You've gotta admit Magnussen's logic is pretty sound

• "I enjoy it": yeah but you're a sadistic maniac, mate, you don't enjoy normal things

• He must have half the fucking Eden Project in his house XD

• Ooooo THE VAULTS ARE A MIND PALACE: big reveaaaaaaaaaal

• Sherlock's little look down: it's as if he's chastising himself, telling himself he should have know

• "I don't understand" "You should put that on a t-shirt": JOHN WATSON T-SHIRT SAGA #2, PART 1

• "Sherlock do we have a plan?" *silence*

• "I still don't understand" "And there's the back of the t-shirt": JOHN WATSON T-SHIRT SAGA #2, PART 2

• When Magnussen makes John let him flick his face: Sherlock can't even WATCH. He's just standing there, staring at the floor, still questioning why he didn't see it

• I mean I'm sorry but the murderous little glint in Sherlock's eyes when Magnussen is flicking John: he knows there's nothing he can do, but then he also knows what he's about to do. And he knows that John is going to hate it, but it's the only way to keep Mary safe

• THE LOVING LOOK AT JOHN JESUS CHRIST I CAN'T

• "MERRY CHRISTMAS" *bang*: JESUS SHERLOCK NO

• Mycroft sounds so panicked, like "no please don't shoot him"

• "Tell her she's safe now": THEN. That was the moment John realised. The moment he realised who he was really in love with

• All Mycroft can see is his crying, upset and scared little brother AND I CAN'T

• "You know what happened to the other one": OOOOOOO

• "There is no prison where we can incarcerate Sherlock without him causing a riot on a daily basis": dis be true guys

• SHERLOCK MAKES MARY LOOK AFTER JOHN I CAAAAAAN'T

• The fact that all acceptingly walk away, like they know what Sherlock is gonna try to do

• "The game is never over, John. There are just new players": SHERL STOP

• "6 months, my brother estimates. He's never wrong": he KNOWS he's gonna die

• The fact he can't even tell John just shows something, doesn't it

• "John there's something I need to say. Something I've always meant to say but never have. Since it's unlikely that we'll ever meet again, I might as well say it now": we all wanted it. We all wanted him to say it. Even JOHN had the hopeful little look in his eyes....

• "Sherlock is actually a girl's name": BUT HE CHICKENS OUT AT THE LAST SECOND. You can just see the disappointment and upset in his face, even on the plane, knowing that he may not see John again and John still doesn't know

• "Did you miss me?": MORIARTY YES WE STAN A QUEEN

• "You're needed": the lil panic cos he knows his OD isn't gonna work

• "Who needs me" "....England": yeah, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland are screwed XD

#sherlock holmes #sherlock #sherlocks3 #johnlock #his last vow #s3e3 #brain dump #wtf brain #kinda analysis #analysis

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honeypiehotchner · 5 years

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Deception -- part three

Since y’all are some greedy little bitches, here’s another. (I’m teasing, I love y’all so much and I’m just as eager to get this story rolling on here; I’m already on part six writing-offline-wise, anywho, happy reading)

John’s appointment isn’t until one in the afternoon, thankfully. This gives me time in the morning to run to the store and buy a red lipstick, as well as some pens. There were some already here in this house, but they aren’t the kind I prefer to use.

By the time I return home from my little shopping adventure I still have a couple hours before John is supposed to arrive, giving me plenty of time to have a cup of tea and look over his file once more.

I hate to say it because it sounds cruel, but there isn’t much more to Dr. Watson than what Mycroft told me.

He studied medicine at King’s College here in London, eventually receiving a Bachelor of Medicine and Surgery. He was a Captain – Captain John Watson – in the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. He is, in fact, a soldier. A veteran of the war in Afghanistan that left him with a bullet wound to the shoulder, a psychosomatic limp, and an intermittent tremor in his dominant hand. He was discharged, of course, three years ago and was seeing a therapist for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – which is common among veterans. Apparently, the last time he saw a therapist was almost two years ago. He stopped seeing one shortly after being introduced to Sherlock, which explains a lot, I suppose. Having a busy life and a best friend by your side can do wonders sometimes for healing.

He currently holds a job as a general practitioner physician at a local clinic, so he does keep up with being a doctor. Though it’s clear he hasn’t worked in days…almost a week. So, he hasn’t worked since Sherlock jumped off a roof, which again, makes perfect sense.

On the topic of Sherlock, John has lived in 221B Baker Street with Sherlock for almost two years now. He’s had a few girlfriends, but nothing stable and nothing current.

I glance back at his picture, furrowing my eyebrows. I understand he’s a veteran dealing with his own issues, and that Sherlock can be quite the busy bee, but how has no girl snagged John yet? Just seems absurd to me that he isn’t dating anyone.

I hum to myself with a shrug, going back to reading.

John was apparently warned many times about Sherlock, but still stayed by his side. So, he’s loyal. He’s a good man.

When Sherlock jumped, John was there watching from the ground…

I sigh heavily. He literally watched Sherlock fall to his death. No wonder the man is not doing well. Seeing death, especially the death of someone you’re close to, does something else to you. It rips you up inside with a tangle of questions and accusations.

Fuck you, Sherlock. Fuck you for doing this to John Watson.

I try to keep reading, moving forward. John has a few friends, but none he really keeps up with outside of Mike Stamford, who he was in the army with. Other than that, he’s got Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson who they rent the flat from, and Molly. But it’s clear from this that Molly is closer to Sherlock than she is John.

Interesting. He’s a veteran, a doctor, and Sherlock Holmes’s best friend.

He’s insanely intelligent just from what I’ve read. He seems like a genuinely good man. I hate to say that I’m a little eager to meet him now. I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances, but it is what it is, I suppose.

I glance at my watch, seeing I have around an hour before John is supposed to arrive. I glance down at my clothes, deciding to change before today’s session. Something to really get me fully inside Jane’s head and out of my own.

~~~

It’s pouring down rain.

It was barely sprinkling earlier this morning when I went out, but now it’s begun to pour. I guess I should’ve expected this with how dark the sky was looking earlier, but I had my high hopes.

I expect the weather to delay John’s arrival, but it doesn’t. The doorbell rings right at one, which only tells me he must’ve been waiting for the clock to turn. Sounds like something he’d do, if I do say so myself. Even though I don’t know him well.

“You must be John Watson,” I smile, eagerly waving him inside and out of the rain. “Come in, come in.”

“Yes I am, hi,” he smiles a bit nervously, shrugging off his coat.

“Oh, you can hang it there,” I point to the coat rack by the door. “Don’t worry about it dripping on the floor, it’s nothing this hardwood can’t handle.”

“Alright,” he nods.

“A mad dog and an Englishman.”

“Sorry, what?”

“A mad dog and an Englishman,” I reply, thinking he didn’t hear me correctly.

“I don’t understand.”

“The only two fools who would go out in this rain on purpose,” I explain.

John lets out a nervous chuckle, obviously not entirely sure of what’s happening, and this causes me to reel myself back in.

“I apologize,” I furrow my eyebrows, shaking my head stupidly. “It’s an old joke my grandmother used to make all the time, but I realize this is an inappropriate time to joke around. Uh, right this way.”

I gesture up to the two chairs. A pitcher of water sits on the table next to John’s chair, placed there by me a bit ago to make it seem…more comfortable. I have no idea what I’m doing here, but I’m trying to pretend like I do, and that’s been proving to be a little more difficult than I imagined. And it’s only been two minutes.

We sit down in our respective chairs, me placing his file (not the one Mycroft gave me) in my lap, so I can take notes, and he awkwardly folds his hands together, crossing his legs.

Here we go.

“So,” I breathe, crossing my legs as well. “Why today?”

There’s a pained expression on his face already as thunder booms around us. “Sorry?”

I furrow my eyebrows. “My records say it has been eighteen months since you’ve last seen a therapist. Why today? Why now?”

“You read the papers?” He asks, his voice cracking. “And you watch telly?”

I nod slowly.

“I’m here because—” He cuts himself off with a sharp breath, shaking his head.

“John,” I pause, trying to swallow my own lump in my throat from watching him like this. “What happened?” He tries once, and stops. “You need to say it, John.”

“My best friend,” he pauses, “Sherlock Holmes,” he stops again, closing his eyes, “is dead.”

I sigh, hanging my head as I listen to him begin to cry. I swear to God, I’m going to smack Sherlock across the face so hard the next time I see him. Whenever that is. Because this is ridiculous. Doing this to John. And leaving me here to clean up the mess, to look after him.

Quietly, I stand and retrieve the tissue box from the coffee table by the couch. I bring it back to the table by John’s chair, setting it next to him since I know he won’t take one if I hand it to him. He doesn’t seem like that kind of man, and I’m right. He doesn’t take one until I am sitting back in my chair.

“What happened, John?”

The look he gives me next might as well have been lethal. “I’ve just told you what happened.”

“Yes, I know,” I reply. “But I mean how did it happen?”

“You want me to tell you how he died?”

“I want you to talk to me, John, that’s what I’m here for.”

He nods. “He jumped. From a building, to his death, and I was watching. That’s how it happened, since it was so damn necessary for you to know.”

He’s grieving, so I let his hostility slide. “You were watching?”

“Yes,” John confirms. “I was on the phone with him before he…”

“What did he say to you?”

“What did he say?” John repeats the question, but with so much incredulity I’m afraid he might start yelling at me. “He told me he was a fraud. That it was all fake.”

“What was all fake?”

“All of his,” he waves his hands. “Deductions. All of the cases he solved. That it was all a…a magic trick.”

“And you don’t think it was.”

“Do you think it was?”

“I didn’t know Sherlock personally, John. I’m just trying to understand the whole situation. And I’m just trying to get you to talk about it.”

“What if I don’t want to talk about it?”

“Well, then why did you schedule this appointment?” I really shouldn’t ask such a testy question as this, but I am.

“I don’t know,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“Can I tell you why I think you scheduled this appointment?”

He gives me a strange look. “You’ve barely known me for ten minutes, but sure.”

I smile softly. “I’ve seen a lot of patients like you.” I see a lot of myself in him. “And when they schedule these appointments when they don’t want to talk about what’s troubling them, it’s not because they don’t want to face what happened, it’s because they’re afraid of what might happen to them if they don’t.” I wait for him to interrupt or make some sarcastic remark, but he doesn’t, so I continue. “Grief is a deadly disease, Dr. Watson. If you don’t treat it properly or deal with it eventually, it will eat you alive. Talking about what’s happened is one way to deal with it, but if you don’t talk to me, I can’t help you.”

He sighs heavily, nodding his head to let me know he’s heard me. I expect for him to sound off with another remark, but he doesn’t. He surprises me this time by talking about Sherlock. Not about Sherlock’s death, but about one time when he came home to Sherlock shooting a yellow spray-painted smiley face on the wall of their flat. I try not to laugh as he tells the story, but I can’t help it when he’s smiling, too. I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it.

John tells me another story of the time – most recently – when Sherlock came home covered in blood. He had taken the tube covered in blood. Even my eyes widened in shock, causing John to nod at my reaction and say, “Me too.”

I thought this session was going to be a little more painful than it turned out to be, but as John is shrugging his coat over his shoulders at the end, I see that an hour of just talking about Sherlock has really taken a weight off his shoulders. I did keep notes of some points in the stories that seemed interesting that I’ll ask him about next time. I didn’t want to press after he seemed genuinely amused and content telling stories.

And I know from personal experience that sometimes the best healing comes from remembering the good times spent with the one you’ve lost.

#Deception #bbc sherlock #bbc sherlock fanfiction #bbc sherlock fanfic #sherlock #john watson #dr john watson #dr watson #john watson x original main character #john watson fanfiction #john watson fanfic #THE REICHENBACH FALL #angst #sadness #therapy #therapy talks

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thebeethathums · 5 years

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Observers - 55

Paring: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

John didn’t expect to find you pressed against Sherlock’s chest when he came down to get something to eat, in fact, he rather expected to find you still drawing in the same position he’d left you. It caused some mixed emotions in him. In a way, he was relieved that Sherlock had somehow managed to pull you from that so you could get some rest but at the same time, it made his skin crawl. His baby sister snuggling with his unusual flatmate seemed so… wrong. You roused and rolled off of Sherlock and to the floor with a loud thump, bringing your hands up to rub your face as you stared at the ceiling for a bit before John gently coaxed, “Are you alright, (F/n)?” “No,” came your simple, honest reply and John came to look down at you as you stated, “He didn’t deserve to die, John… especially not like that.” “Everyone dies, (F/n).” Sherlock hummed flatly, having been drawn out of his thoughts when your warmth left his body.

“Sherlock!” John hissed, watching you roll to your side to curl up in a ball with a soft whimper of sadness before setting in to scold Sherlock as he sank to the floor to pull you to him. You let him, snuggling into his neck as you grumbled, “Leave him be, Johnny, he’s right, but it doesn’t mean the living hurt any less.”

Sherlock looked over just as you buried your face into John’s jumper, your shoulders shaking as you finally broke down and quietly wept on him, “H-He was my f-f-friend, John. He knew h-he was going to d-die… if-if I h-had gone to seeee him when he a-asked- If I-I hadn’t put it offff- I c-could have h-h-helped.” Your brother wrapped his arms around you as tightly as he could, stroking the back of your hair with one hand, “No you couldn’t have. He was already in too deep, (F/n). You would have only gotten yourself into trouble… The kind I can’t bail you out of.” A deep frown settled on Sherlock’s face as your quiet sniffles turned to full-blown sobs, his chest feeling so tight it was like he couldn’t breathe, but he was relieved, glad even, that John was handling it. His mind referred him back to Mycroft’s tome of ‘caring is not an advantage’ as he witnessed just what caring reduced you to. If you were this broken up by the death of an old friend you hadn’t seen in years, then you’d be more than incapacitated if you lost say, John… or perhaps even him. He briefly wondered how he would react if anything happened to you or your brother… for even if he was unwilling to admit it, he was certainly attached to you both.

His Watsons.

He shoved the dreadful thought from his mind, assuring himself that nothing would change should something unfortunate happen… not that he would ever allow something to happen. He supposed that was the true problem. How far would he go to keep both of you safe? When he looked over at you again, you’d quieted considerably with John’s nose tucked in your hair as you let out small hiccups. Sherlock could tell John disliked it as much as he did when you cried, the man looking pained as he rubbed your back softly. You carefully separated yourself from your brother, pausing to give him a kiss on the cheek as you whispered, “Thank you, John,” before moving back to your seat at the table to wind your fingers around a pencil. You needed to think, to remember, it was the only way you could move on and for you, the only way to do that was to sketch. You spent the next three days in almost complete silence, borrowing more of John’s clothes and spending hours on end drawing in a chair by the window in something similar to Sherlock’s post-case sulking but without the whining or condescending statements. John knew this was your way of dealing with loss and was just glad that he’d managed to avoid you going through one of your destructive fits or locking yourself away. He also noticed that you seemed to have forgiven Sherlock since you weren’t completely ignoring him and he on occasion made you tea or pulled your hand into his to relieve the tension. Neither of them pushed you to talk or move, giving you time to process everything and come to terms with it. Something you greatly appreciated. Other than your silent presence, things in 221B pretty much went back to normal- John worked a handful of shifts at the clinic in between updating his blog and Sherlock busied himself with an experiment that involved removing the corneas from human eyeballs and shining different colored and wattage of lights through them. John thought it was odd and a little disgusting but was numb to it and you observed it with a kind of quiet curiosity, no doubt putting what you saw down in your sketchbook. On the fourth day, John got up to find you sitting on the couch, dressed in your own clothes, staring at your mobile phone on the coffee table with your hands intertwined over your mouth in nervous thought. You looked up for a second, offering a distracted, “Morning, Johnny,” before going back to staring at your phone and he raised an eyebrow at you, “Feeling better, Squeak?” “I guess so, yeah,” you huffed before scooping up the phone and quickly dialing a number, drumming your fingers on your leg as you waited for someone to pick up. John moved to the kitchen but could hear you take a deep breath before offering a solemn, “Bonjour, Madame Ares. C’est (F/n). Je crains de mauvaises nouvelles.” He could only assume that what came after was a brief explanation of what had happened and you offering condolences before giving them Lestrade’s number and ending the call with a soft, “Je suis désolé pour votre perte. Au revoir.” You were just setting down your phone when John sank down on the couch next to you and offered you a much-needed cup of tea, “You alright?” Taking the tea, you let out a huff of air, staring at the space in front of you for a moment before looking over at him to nod, “Yeah. I think I am. Thanks, Johnny.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and kissed your temple before getting up to sit at the table with the paper and his laptop, “Have you seen the camera? I wanted to upload some of the photos we took on the last case.” You joined him at the table, stealing a section of the newspaper as you hummed, “I haven’t but Sherlock destroyed the memory chip the day before last so I think you’ll have to do without.” John groaned, wondering how exactly his flatmate had managed that, and for the first time in a few days you chuckled, reaching over to ruffle his hair before getting up to retrieve your sketchbook as you offered, “If it means that much to you, I can scan in some of my sketches and you can use those.” You opened your sketchbook to the pages from the case he was referring to and handed it to him as he raised an eyebrow, “You’d let me?” “Why not?” you shrugged indifferently, taking your empty cup back to the kitchen while John looked over the pages, calling, “These are even better than the photos. I’d love to use them.” Appearing to lean on the kitchen doorframe, you looked over your section of the newspaper as you stated, “I’ll scan them and email them to you before I leave for work.” “You’re going back to work?” “Have to pay my rent somehow,” you sighed, returning the newspaper to the table before giving your brother quick side hug, “Speaking of which, I have to go get ready… I’ll give a yell when I leave.” He gave you a small grin and handed your sketchbook back, “Alright, Squeak. Have a good day and thank you for the sketches.” Sherlock still wasn’t up by the time you had to leave and John was happily adding your sketches to his blog so you called out a quick farewell and slipped out the door. Annie wasn’t there when you got to the café, which was how you’d expected it since she was dealing with her own grief over Timmy and you’d offered to watch over the place while she took a day. What you didn’t expect was a small red envelope to be sitting in the cubby you normally stashed your stuff in. Scooping it up to run your fingers over the stiff crimson paper, you opened it and pulled out a crisp white card with swirling black lettering on it that simply read, “I. O. U. –M” You shrugged, stowing it away in your bag as you assumed it was from Mycroft referring to the favor he’d done you of getting you out of trouble, and went about your day at work. By the end of the day, you’d forgotten all about the mysterious little card, leaving it tucked away in the front of your sketchbook, and didn’t think about it again for a long time.

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geekmama · 7 years

Text

A Stratagem

Part 12 of 15 in the Aftermath series. Follows directly after Preparations.

Molly, with Sherlock at her back, opened the front door. She smiled in spite of her nerves, for she was genuinely fond of Millicent and Vernet Holmes, the astonishing couple who’d produced three of the most exceptional beings on the planet. Astonishing -- and yet the soul of kindness. Some of her previous meetings with them came forcibly to mind -- tea in their comfortable back garden, discussing her part in Sherlock’s “fall” and all of them grieving over the many distressing aspects of the situation; that long, frank conversation she’d had with Millicent in the canteen of the hospital where Sherlock lay a few floors above, struggling to recover from the bullet Mary had put into him. Oh, God. They had been through so much in the last few years, all of them, but particularly these good-natured, intelligent people standing on her front porch, and now she wanted nothing more than to throw protective arms about the two of them and spare them this additional pain, which lay like a terrible shadow over the occasion.

However, both Sherlock and Mycroft were counting on her, and to fail them would be unthinkable. She therefore said, “Hello! I’m so happy to see you again. Please, do come in!”

“It’s good to see you, too, dear,” Millicent Holmes exclaimed brightly and immediately embraced her. Then she favored Sherlock with a shrewd, speaking glance. “And you’re looking well, my son. Ah! Sons,” she corrected, having spied Mycroft. “And Alicia! Good heavens, I believe this is quite unprecedented! Are both my confirmed bachelors set to grant my fondest wish and settle down?”

“Now, Mother,” Vernet chided amiably, “don’t tease the boys. These things have their season.”

“Season!” Millicent gave a mirthless snort of laughter. “It may still be mid-summer with Sherlock, but Mycroft’s autumnal equinox is peeking round the corner.” She gave her already exasperated elder son an amused simper before continuing, “No, very well, I won’t say another word. And, indeed, it’s lovely to see you again, Alicia.”

“Thank you, Millicent,” Lady Smallwood said, though her tone was wryly amused.

Both Sherlock and Mycroft permitted their mother to embrace them, each betraying only a minimum of awkwardness, and then Molly said, “Brunch is almost ready, but let’s go into the kitchen and pour some drinks, shall we?”

“Whatever the doctor orders,” Vernet agreed, and added, jovially,. “It’s after noon somewhere!”

Mycroft rolled his eyes a bit, but Sherlock’s groan was cut short by a nudge from Molly’s elbow. She gave both him and his brother a swift look. This was not the time for displays of undutiful sarcasm.

Sherlock’s lips quirked against a smile, but Mycroft only sighed, looking as depressed as she’d ever seen him.

However, he and his brother perked up considerably as Molly led the way into the kitchen where an inviting display of libations and glasses had been set out on a side table.

“I’ll have a Mimosa,” said Millicent. “Light on the orange juice, if you please. I understand that we’re here because there is news to impart, and I suspect it’s not only the fact that my youngest has at last come to his senses in your regard, Molly. Though… do tell me he’s not merely imposing upon you again because of the damage to 221B?”

Vernet said, rather apologetically, “We did go by your flat last evening, Sherlock, when we got into town. Wanted to say hello to Martha Hudson, at least -- but obviously she is away, too, while repairs are going on. What happened? Everyone’s alright?”

“We’re all fine,” Sherlock said, evenly. “It was… someone’s idea of a joke, actually.”

“A joke?!” Millicent exclaimed. “That’s outrageous!”

“It was a warning,” Mycroft said. “And to get us out of the house. But the… ah… trickster wanted to be apprehended. And was. Now it’s just a matter of waiting on repairs.”

“But you are correct,” Sherlock put in, accepting a flute of Segura Viudas Cava from Molly. “I have come to my senses in Molly’s regard, as I believe was implied in that text I sent you yesterday.”

“Yes,” said Millicent, sipping her Mimosa and looking at her youngest in some wonder. “I did as you requested by the way.”

Sherlock smiled, and then gave Molly a haughty none of your business look.

Molly, tamping down the odd thrill that had shot through her at this interchange between Sherlock and his mother, merely shook her head and said, evenly,. “Very well, keep your secrets. But come help me put brunch on the table, will you? It’s all ready, I just need to pop the frittata under the broiler for a couple of minutes.”

Everyone helped, actually, and before many minutes had passed they were all sitting down to what Millicent termed a veritable feast.

“Molly, you’ve outdone yourself!” she said, surveying the dishes on offer. “It’s all lovely! Just like Spain, but better, with a touch of England.”

Molly laughed. “Thank you! I do hope you like it.”

“How could we help it?” Vernet smiled. “One can see you’ve put a great deal of love into it.”

“Speaking of which,” put in his wife, “let’s have a toast. To Molly and Sherlock’s… ah… what? Liaison?”

And Sherlock actually grinned at this. “That’ll do for the moment. And it has a pleasingly illicit ring about it, too.” He raised his glass, his eyes warm as he met Molly’s.

She knew she was blushing as she raised her own glass, but that only seemed to add to the perfection of the moment.

They took their time eating, and conversation remained cheerful and general -- Sherlock’s parents had a great many stories to tell of their visit to Spain, and of their most recent journey to the U.S. -- but eventually forks were laid down and the last of the wine was poured out, and things became rather quiet.

Millicent finally seemed to gather herself and turned to Sherlock. “So. Is your friend Lestrade looking into catching this trickster that’s destroyed your flat yet again? It’s not one of Moriarty’s associates, is it? Perhaps the same who created that broadcast? Wasn’t it Moriarty who was responsible for the destruction last time?”

Sherlock had set down his glass and now seemed to be staring at the dregs of his wine, but he gave a nod and said, carefully, “Yes. It was the building across the street that was the direct target that time, of course. But the message was for me.”

Vernet frowned, distressed. “The man was nothing short of a monster. There were quite a number of people killed that time, were there not?”

“Yes, a few, and twelve more in another bombing a couple of days later. Moriarty is dead, now, however. But this current… trickster… was… not an associate. Not an underling, at least. More an old friend.”

Millicent said, “So they were connected?”

Sherlock finally looked up at his parents. Glanced at Mycroft, but saw that his elder brother was not yet ready to speak.

Beneath the table, he caught up Molly’s hand, and she gave his a quick, encouraging squeeze.

Visibly calmed, he went on. “They were connected. The trickster was, and is once again, an inmate of what had been assumed to be a highly secure facility on a small island off the coast, called Sherrinford. But she -- this trickster is a woman -- managed to compromise every safeguard and, in various disguises, traveled about for months, arranging… tests? Pleas for help? In any case, incidents that brought her perforce to our attention -- mine, and John Watson’s, and ultimately Mycroft’s. When my flat was blown up, we were aware of her identity, for she had informed John of it the previous day, before shooting him with a tranquilizer dart -- Xylazine, I would think, from the effects. She had been acting as his new therapist for weeks, after having killed the real one.”

“Good God!” Millicent exclaimed.

“Yes,” Sherlock agreed, blandly. “Mycroft, John, and I traveled to Sherrinford to investigate and remedy the situation, but were caught in her web and forced to undergo a series of experiments which explored situational morality and emotional context. Five persons died in the course of these experiments.”

“My God!” Vernet muttered. “Sherlock, I know you have been the nemesis of many… er… scions of the underworld. But this almost surpasses belief!”

And Millicent added, “It’s like one of those horrible movies out of Hollywood. And yet you say it’s the truth? How on earth do you manage to attract such evil!”

But now Mycroft spoke. “It is not evil per se, in this case. The… the trickster suffers from a severe form of psychosis, and has done nearly all her life. She killed a young boy when she was a mere child herself. Burned her family’s home. Then, placed in an institution for treatment and safety, she managed to set fire to that building as well, resulting in a number of injuries and deaths. It was your brother, my uncle, who installed her in Sherrinford, and there she has been held in secret these many years.

“I… there is no easy way to put this to either of you, but… our sister Eurus is the trickster of which we’ve been speaking. Eurus is alive.”

~.~.

#Sherlock #sherlolly

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mylockholmes · 7 years

Text

Reclaimed Crown ~ Part 2

PART ONE

Author’s Note: asny screencaps of Lucy Griffiths (the face claim for Lucy Holmes) are from @lucy-griffiths-love / any other images without credits attached are from google image searches

Lucy and Charlie had been dating for months and he was caught off guard by an invitation directly to him from Mycroft Holmes. “Charlie, it is okay he;s kind of intimidating but my dad is basically a good person. he;s just spent his life protecting Uncle Sherlock.”

That evening when Charlie arrives at Mycroft’s flat “I figured this would be a less intimidating place to meet you. than my office.” his phone buzzes. he had been dating but he was embarassed to admit it. “Pardon me.” he takes his phoen and goes into the next room and replies to the Text and then turns his phone off.

Charlie, full given Name Charles James McDaniel, was studying medicine with minor in architecture and had chosen to apply to College in London. because he had always wanted to travel, He hadn’t expected to meet anyone let alone hte niece of Sherlock Holmes.

“Relax young man. I ma here to ask you to help me protect Lucero. THere has been an individual observing waiting for a weak point i fear they know my weakness has become my daughter. Doctor Hooper can defend herself and she is Sherlock’s weakness. I believe there is 90% chance that Lucero and Molly will be kidnapped and the enemy is remainign hidden until they want to be known.”.

“Really brother. If you trust the young man enough to tell him you believe Lucy is in danger you might as well tell him. The danger is our sister. Lucy doesn’t know About Eurus. Eurus once held a gun on John Watson.”

“On a lighter note. You need to take my daughter to better place to eat than you have been. I think she has figured out by now. because you’ve been around for almost 6 months.”

Four months prior......

it had been two weeks since the ballet recital “Molly, i am goign to ask he r out. are you sure Mister Holmes wonlt send assassins after me.”

“I don’t know Mycroft as well as I know Sherlock.”

In Mrs. Hudson’s flat at 221B Baker Street....

“Thank you Mrs. Hudson. this is my mother Daphne Rose Collins. we were goign to eat in Speedy;s but i hate those tables you have to stand at.”

“It is nothing Lucy. would you like some tea?”

“Yes. but only if you were planning on joining us for a cup.” she said with a smile

“No dear. that is kind of you. you’re the only member of the Holmes Family that doesn’t treat me like a maid.” she pours tea “A pleasure to meet the woman who gave birth to Mycroft’s daughter.”

Daphne “It is pleasure to meet you mrs. Hudson. Lucy mentioned you in her last letter.” a short time later “Do you believe this young man is interested you romantically? i know you are clearly attracted to him.”

“Charlie is good person.” she blushed “i like how his hair bounces when he laughs. Tell Quentin I forgive him but i wish h you both had told me sooner.” eventhough he wasnlt her biolgoical father he did help raise her.

“He knows that sweetheart. he was just busy or he would have come too.”

“The odd thing is I feel like belong in London. I probably knew somehow that I was Holmes.” she smiled as they sat and ate their food. “Mary Watson is nice. She’s....”

“I crossed paths with her before she deserves to be happy.” Daphne had been thecleaner sent in after AGRA would do their jobs. She was very familiar with Mary Watson. “Before you ask. I was cleaner and Quentin was a hacker. we were set up in in three person teams Quite often with your father. You were conceived on a mission Mycroft and i went on, in which we were pretendign to be a newly married couple.”

“Please don’t go into detail. i would rather not listen to you talk about havign sex. Dad hasa girlfriend and he;s pretending like i am not supposed to know. but when i work a few hours a week in his office she always comes in when his assistant is out running errands.”

Daphne giggles “I am reasonably sure he know you;ve figured it out it is ht reason you’re hte oen there when he invites he to the office it is to see how you will react to being aware. my dad did the same thing when he started dating after my mom died.” she said “I am sure if things had been different i would have married Mycroft. he’s man of honor.”

Present day....

“You Mister McDaniel are a man of credibility. you have no criminal record apart from thigns that happen to the average college student. I believe you will help defend her when the time comes. have you met her mother?”

“Mrs. Collins is a nice lady i met her when Lucy was giving her a tour of Saint Bart’s and ended i nthe morgue.”

“Excellent.”

“i have to meet Lucy for dinner. it was nice meeting you Mister Holmes.”

“Take her to my favorite restaurant. there is standing reservation for olmes i will tell them you are coming at 7pm.” he texts him the direction.”

“Okay. i am only doing this so you’ll stop asking.”

“Politely suggesting.”

after he;s in his Charlie takes out his phone and texts Lucy “the meetign with your dad went well where are you?”

she replies “I am at John’s clinic i forgot i had an appointent for a check up.” she looks at her phone and sees he sent a text and she blushes after reading it but before turning off her phone

Later that evening, at the the restaurant “this isn’t how i imagined my father’s favorite restaurant. Ir must be where he brings his girlfriend. that he pretends i am not aware of.”

“when i was talking to your dad earlier i found myself thinking about our first date. I think he knew my mind was wandering.”

four months earlier.......

“Damn it i lost track of time! Molly is fine if i change in your office.” she nods and while he;s in the office Lucy comes in “Molly how does this look it is dress you helped me choose.” she was wearing simple black dress.

they arrived at the restaurant late rather than beign forced to wait for an hour for another table “Mary, can you recommend a place where we wonl’t out of place dressed semi formallly.”

Mary you can just come over here. John toom rosie over to his parent’s house and he and sherlock are out on case i will leave you two alone.”

20 Minutes later at The Watsons’ house “are you sure we’re not imposing it kind of looks like you were goign to chill out alone for a few hours.” charlie asked

Mary “I don’t mind. i would like to talk to Lucy alone for few minutes.” they go into the bedroom and she sits on the bed “have you two kissed?”

Lucy blushed “i can see this is hte start of a romantic relationship. I want to adsvise to try your damndest to maintain it. cosidering the line of work most of the men we know are in.”

“My mom wanted me to say hi. next time i saw you. she said something about beign he cleaner who cleaned after AGRA was done.”

Mary sighed “Did she tell you what my real name is.”

“I didn’t ask. i prefer not to ask too many questions about things like that my life is complicated enough. You didnt have to make dinner for us.” she paused “Let me guess. sherlock told you...”

“His specific words were it is friday night and there is a high possibility that they will be too impatient to wait for another table so i suggest you make simple dinner for them and donlt question when she calls.” she laughed “you managed to become oone of hte ew peiople sherlock considers an ally. which is maazing considerign you’ve not known him very long. go downstairs.”

When she went back into hte living room “I have one question. how is it a dinner for two when she is here alone?”

“Sherlock.” she loved his smile “how come it took you so long to ask me out?”

“I wanted you to adjust to being in london and i also thought you’d say no. i mean you are clearly as intelligent as sherlock and your father. I mean fro mthe few times i;ve met them. i already told you i am majoring in medicine and mioring in engineering.”

“I want to be photographer and author.”

“you could be professional dancer.”

“Dancing is just a hobby. i couldn’t handle hte stress of doing it as a profession.” she spent two hours explainign to him how dancing was the only way she could be outside of Collinwood for a couple hours without feeling liek she was breaking a rule to do it.

He took her hand and gently squeezed it before they stood up and went to clean up the kitchen. “Let’s go for a walk.”

they’d end up cheduling their classes for the same days and take walks on the campus after classes were over but at the end of the night he nervously awaited the right moment and gave her passionate kiss

Present day......

“In all honesty i wanted to spend all night listening to you but i had classes and stuff to do the next day. I love you Lucy Holmes.”

“The road goes both ways.”

“what does that mean?”

“I love you too.”

To Be Continued.....

#daddy! mycroft #part 2 #reclaimed crown #sherlock fan fic #au fanfiction #1/11/17

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geekmama · 7 years

Text

Cake for Breakfast

Written for the the First Argument prompt for May 18th of Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017, this is the 20th fic I’ve written for my post-S4 series, ‘Time of the Season’...

“No, you bloody cannot have cake for breakfast!” was the roar that greeted Molly as she trudged up the steps to 221B after a very long night at Barts.

It had been her first graveyard shift since Daisy’s birth, an emergency for which Mike Stamford had begged all hands’ assistance. She’d been glad to do it, but she’d forgotten how exhausting such hours could be when one was no longer used to them. But Sherlock’s shout, no doubt directed at their young sons, made her sputter with laughter, and she suddenly felt lighthearted.

She trotted up the few remaining steps and as she entered the flat she grinned at Sherlock, saying, “You’ve certainly changed your tune, now that you’re a staid middle-aged man and a father!”

Cries of Mum! Mummy! Can’t we have cake? It’s almost like scones, You let us have scones for breakfast all the time!, rang out from Will and Jon as they rushed to her, nearly knocking her over with their enthusiastic hugs.

“Thank God you’re home,” said Sherlock, looking both frazzled and angry. “I don’t care what Stamford says, no more graveyard shifts for you until the baby’s weaned, she was up half the night, refused to take a bottle, and now here are these brats trying to filch cake for breakfast when I specifically told them hands off!”

“You said there’d be scones,” Will complained resentfully.

“Will,” said Molly, sharply, “that’s enough. Though Mrs. Hudson did say she’d be baking this morning.” She turned to Sherlock. “Where is she? Is she alright?”

“She’s fine, but her sister was taken ill and she’s gone off to Devon.”

“Oh, no!” Molly exclaimed, “Is it serious?”

“No, just a virus of some sort, but she’s pretty knocked up and Hudders is likely to be gone a few days. I just hope she doesn’t catch it herself.”

“I’m sure she’ll be careful--” But Molly’s words were cut short by a wail from the bedroom.

Sherlock groaned in frustration and gripped his already messy curls. “I just got her to sleep!”

Molly said, “Well, one can hardly blame her, with all the shouting. But don’t worry, I’ll give her a good feeding and she’ll go back down like a lamb -- I’m fairly desperate to nurse, so it’s as well she woke up. See if she needs a fresh nappy, and I’ll start some porridge for these young savages, how does that sound?” She smiled down at her adorable (if occasionally maddening) sons. “Porridge with a bit of butter and honey?”

“Yes, please!” said Jon eagerly.

“Alright,” said Will, sulkily. “But can we try the cake later?”

Sherlock growled, “You so much as breathe on that cake and you’ll regret it. Your uncle sent that over specifically for your mother!”

“Did he really?” Molly raised her brows, surprised and delighted.

“It’s Princess Cake, from the dinner he attended last night at the Swedish embassy. He said it reminded him of you -- or wrote, actually, he sent the box round by courier with a note attached. Talk about misuse of government funds. Yes, Daisy, I’m coming!”

As he stalked off to the bedroom, Molly herded her little sons into the kitchen, sat them down with half a banana each to tide them over, and proceeded to put their porridge together. It was only half finished cooking when Sherlock came in with a snuffling, tear-stained Daisy.

“Here, you take this one,” said Sherlock, handing the baby over, “and I’ll finish making breakfast. And I may be middle-aged and a father, but I am not and never will be staid!”

Molly chuckled. “I thought that would rankle.” She sat down at the table, and as she prepared to nurse her eager and now smiling daughter she continued. “But don’t’ you remember our first real argument? About you wanting cake for breakfast!”

He frowned at her. “That was years ago!”

“Not fair, Dad!” said Will.

“You be quiet or you can do without breakfast,” Sherlock told him.

“I remember it very clearly,” Molly told Will and Jon. “Uncle John was away and your father wanted me to assist him with an experiment, and promised me breakfast if I’d come over after my shift. But Mrs. Hudson had gone out with some friends and the only thing edible in this flat was half a chocolate cake John had bought a few days before. I was not happy, to say the least.”

Sherlock shook his head. “What a fuss you made!”

“I’d been working all night and I was starving! And my mouth was all set for that fry-up and scones you’d promised me. And then trying to fob me off with tea and that horrid cake? You can’t blame me for being enraged.”

“I took you to breakfast.”

“So you did -- and pouted the whole time.”

“Counts as our first date, at least.”

“It does not! You didn’t ask me out, I just insisted you take me.”

“And I just gave in,” Sherlock huffed, then added provocatively, “No make-up sex on offer, either. I’d say you still owe me for that, Dr. Hooper.”

Molly gaped. “But it wasn’t… we weren’t… ” But then she saw the teasing glint in his eye.

“What’s make-up sex?” asked Jon.

Molly felt herself blushing, and gave Sherlock a glare.

But he merely looked down his nose at her and said to Jon, “It’s when mummy and daddy cuddle and hug and kiss for hours.”

“Ewwwww!” said both boys together.

Molly couldn’t help laughing. “You’ll understand when you grow up,” she told them, “just as your father has now seen the light, about that and about cake for breakfast.”

“Well, not entirely,” Sherlock said, giving the porridge a final stir before taking the pot off the flame. “As an adult, I reserve the right to eat cake for breakfast whenever the mood strikes. You two, however, will eat porridge and like it.” He ignored the boys’ protests as he poured the cereal into their bowls, added just a dab of butter, a dribble of honey, and a moat of cold milk to each, and presented them with a flourish. “There you go. Eat up.”

“Or starve?” Will said, cocking his head.

“Exactly so, precocious brat,” returned his father, carefully not smiling.

Molly said, “It looks delicious!”

“There’s enough for you, if you don’t want cake.”

“Oh, porridge, please, by all means! We’ll share the cake later -- if everyone is very well behaved today and allows mummy to catch up on her sleep.”

Sherlock prepared two more bowls, one for himself, as well, and presently the whole family was peacefully enjoying a nutritious breakfast.

This state of affairs only lasted for a very short time, however. There was suddenly a rap at the door of the flat, a raucous voice calling “Hallo!!” and the sound of a light footfall that resolved itself into the person of Rosie Watson. “We’re going to the zoo!” she announced happily as she entered the kitchen. “Can Will and Jon come with us? Do you all want to come? Oh, please say yes!”

The boys, who adored their lively “cousin”, had already burst into a chorus of, “Can we? Please?” when John walked into the kitchen, grinning at his daughter’s enthusiasm, but saying, “That’s enough, finish your breakfast, lads. Settle down, Rosie, can’t you see they’re still eating?”

“I’m finished!” cried Will, pushing his bowl away, and Jon, of course, followed suit.

Sherlock was eyeing the considerable amount of uneaten porridge in their bowls with disapproval, but before he could say anything, Molly told the boys, “You must finish it all, and quickly, too, if you want to go.” When she saw them obediently retrieve their bowls and tuck in, she turned to John. “Would you mind just taking the boys? I was at Barts all night, and Daisy wasn’t happy about it at all.”

“Ah!” said John, and turned to Sherlock, not quite deadpan. “So that’s why you look like something the cat dragged in.”

Sherlock sighed. “I’d tell you to shut up, but if you’re going to take these brats off our hands for a while I’d do better to kiss your feet. Metaphorically speaking, at least.”

“You’re certain you don’t mind, John?” asked Molly, once more.

But John chuckled. “They’ll be fine -- or they know they’d better be, at least.”

“I’ll take care of them,” said Rosie confidently.

Will grinned, and Jon looked at her adoringly and said, “Rosie always takes good care of us!”

A very few minutes later, the zoo-goers headed out, descending the stairs like a herd of small elephants. Molly and Sherlock sat listening to the racket fade away, and end as the door to 221B was closed behind them.

Sherlock sat back with an exaggerated sigh of relief. “John is a bloody saint!”

Molly smiled. “Rosie, too. And, incidentally, your daughter. Look!” Daisy had fallen sound asleep while nursing, and now lay back in her mother’s arms, limp and entirely lost to dreamland.

Sherlock’s eyes were soft upon his baby girl, but after a few moments he raised them to catch Molly’s gaze. Their softness took on a distinct glint. “It’s nap time and no mistake,” he murmured. “And wasn’t there a recent mention of make-up sex? I could have sworn…”

“There was. It was you who mentioned it, actually -- though you owe me, Mr. Holmes, not the other way around.”

“You have my sincere apologies for ever indicating otherwise,” he said as he stood up and came around to her side of the table to take Daisy from her. “Now, if you would care to accompany me to the bedroom, we’ll stash this one in her cot and I can begin to make amends.”

But Molly just sat there, a tired, silly smile on her face. Amends. And a long nap after. And Princess Cake. What did I do to deserve such happiness? She sighed blissfully, and said aloud, “I love you, Mr. Holmes.”

He rolled his eyes and, pretending to lose patience, said, low but intense, “I know you do, isn’t that the bloody point? Come on, Hooper! Get your sweet arse off that chair and into my bed immediately!”

He led the way, carrying the baby, and she followed, chuckling.

It was only later, when they’d finished and lay in each other's arms, sated and exhausted and on the edge of much needed sleep, that she heard him whisper, “I love you, too, Mrs. Holmes. More than my life,” and she had to rouse herself to kiss him, just once more.

~.~

#Sherlock #sherlolly #Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017

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