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texts from jeeves

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Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2015 

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I wrote this in 2018! 2018!! Apparently someone gave me a prompt, and originally this was Christmas? I guess, I think. You'll see the vague setting of it, hah, somewhere, if you squint. Also, I've edited it, slightly, in the year 2023! Wild, have a read, I guess -

‘She’s not nervous.’ Molly told herself, foot jiggling, while her hand was firmly clenched around the stem of the wine glass. Yes, she was. Her brain wasn’t being helpful. Whatsoever. They’d had dinner. Her and Brian. A nice dinner at a lovely posh restaurant, with servers wearing gloves (always impressive), and he’d not pressed her to go to his flat either.

Though it wasn’t a flat, like she’d mentally prepared herself, but rather, a house, or a mansion. 

There was an echo. 

There’s not an echo where she lives, but there was an echo here. 

There was also loads of space from the floor to the ceiling, and loads of space elsewhere.

Hence, the echo. 

The interior design was - different - not unpleasant, but modern, eclectic, and kind of gaudy. Yes, gaudy, with its uncomfortable settee situated near the large fireplace which was currently not on (he had a remote to turn it on with, something he’d mentioned after he’d switched on music with said universal remote). “It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” he said, catching her staring at the massive painting on the wall of a man being shot (which was painted like a renaissance painting, but everyone was dressed modern). 

“Erm - - no,” she said, biting her lip. 

“Yeah, it is,” he said with a wry smile. 

“It’s a bit-,”

“Awful I know - your place is much better, it’s got stuff. I’ve never been good at keeping stuff at my place, if I’m honest.”

“Oh, why not?”

There was a loud gong sound, and Brian furrowed his brows. “Hm, that’s odd-,”

“Was that the doorbell?” Molly said, looking around, half-expecting to see a physical gong somewhere. 

“Hard to miss, yeah, but I’ll go check it out.”

Brian strode off, his footsteps loud until they weren’t. 

There was some walking distance to the front door after all.

Now, this was their fifth date. 

The four other dates had been nice, after all. 

They’d met at a coffee shop, and he’d not had his card on him, but she’d helped.

It was cute, but she hadn’t really expected much to come off it. 

Yet, there had. 

He was nice. 

But…

It was amidst these thoughts, where she was trying very hard not to judge Brian on his decor that she heard a cough. 

Molly blinked, looking around the otherwise empty room, and wondering whether the cough came from somewhere else. 

“Brian?” she said, and another sound followed, sounding like the shuffling of feet. 

The sound came from her right - - -  from the fireplace. 

And that’s when she saw a pair of legs. 

A pair of legs, and a pair of feet, with some fine footwear. 

She gaped. 

Was it art? 

She went to look closer, and that’s when the foot in question - -  moved. 

“It’s me,” a deep familiar voice said all of a sudden. 

“What?” she said, startled, backing away. “...Sherlock?!”

A beat past. 

“Yes?”

“What the hell are you doing in the chimney?” she hissed, bending down, looking up to see that he was wedged in there somehow. 

But she couldn’t see his face. 

She had no idea from what direction he came, whether he’d gone through the house or from the roof. She also had no idea why on earth he was there to begin with. How could she? Normal people didn’t do these things!

“No time to explain.”

“No time? What the hell-,” and that’s when she heard footsteps. Brian! He was returning. 

Molly leapt back to where she’d been sitting, trying to look less flustered than she was. Hoping she was blocking the feet from his line of sight. 

“There was nobody at the door-,” he stopped in his steps. “Are you cold?”

“Oh no,” she said quickly, trying to figure it out while he was stretching for the remote. 

“You sure, because-,” he said, remote in hand. 

“No!” she said. “No! No fire, thank you.”

“Um, alright?” he said, eyebrow raised. 

How was she going to explain this? How?! She had no explanation. Sherlock had given her none, though none would work either. There was no logical reason he’d hidden himself in Brian’s chimney, except if it was a case. Was there a case? Now she wasn’t certain. Maybe Brian’s decor should have tipped her off. White walls, bare to minimum furniture, and all of them uncomfortable, besides violent art - he could be a ruddy serial killer from the looks of it. “ - - Are you a serial killer?” 

She might not have thought that one through, and from Brian’s reaction, besides a low laugh behind her - she was probably wrong. 

“Is this a normal fifth date conversation for you?” Brian said while looking slightly put off. 

He’d clearly heard the laugh, eyes slightly narrowed. 

She was about to speak, about to hopefully say something clever and not at all accusatory. 

“It’s a valid question.”

It wasn’t her who said that - - -  nor was it Brian. 

Molly squeezed her eyes shut for a mere second, trying to regain herself, while Brian stood there clearly shaken. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, and she couldn’t really answer that. 

“Sherlock Holmes is the name.”

He answered it for her. Of course. 

Brian didn’t know where to look. 

“He’s - - in the chimney.”

He stared at her for a few seconds in disbelief, but she stepped aside as Brian stepped forward. 

“Hello - - umm  - - Mr Holmes?”

“Hi.”

“What - - are you doing in my chimney?”

“I’d rather answer that after I’ve gotten out.”

Brian stepped back, but Sherlock did not step out. 

“Except I can’t…”

--

“That could have been worse,” said Sherlock, a shock blanket enshrouding his shoulders while firemen were scattered about. 

She stood there with tightly crossed arms, her mouth in a frown, which it had been for the last couple of hours. It had taken the firemen ages to break Sherlock out of the fireplace, in that time Brian had asked a myriad of questions about their relationship. 

They didn’t have a relationship, or well, a functioning working relationship, and Brian being much more put together than she was feeling, despite his fireplace being disassembled, told her to question that relationship for a second. 

She’d avoided questioning it for months, letting that phone call slowly die out in her mind, or well, to the best of her ability. Molly, despite being one who seemed like she said I love you often, had not in fact ever been that sort of person. 

There were less than a handful of people she’d said that to, and one of those people was standing in front of her. 

It was also, hopefully, the last and first time she’d been forced to say it to someone as well. 

“It could have been better,” she returned grudgingly, eyeing Brian in the distance who was talking to one of the firemen, and who she suspected would not be asking for a sixth date. 

“You should get back-,”

She hated it when he did that, whatever it was, but she recognized it. She knew that look on his face, the sort of soft look, the sort of sad look... “He’s nice-,” he added in her silence. Sherlock was making a decision on her behalf again, and she hated when he did that. 

“Yeah, he is nice.”

“Then-,”

“Why am I still here?”

It sounded sharper than she meant, but he deserved it. 

“Why were you in the chimney?” she probed, again, he’d been avoiding the question. 

She was afraid he’d avoid it again. 

“I don’t know,” he said finally, though it was hardly an answer. 

“You don’t know?”

“I didn’t drop in.”

“No, you’re not Father Christmas.” 

He smiled, briefly, “John told me you were on a date, well, he told me you’d been on several-,”

“And?”

“I felt like being there.”

“In the chimney?” she said with a snort. 

“Obviously I didn’t intend to get stuck.”

“No, probably not, but you could have asked-,”

“Asked..?”

“Asked me out?” she said with a casual shrug, but it wasn’t at all casual. 

This was why she’d been nervous. She’d thought of turning Brian down already, of telling him they might just be friends, but nothing more. 

Sherlock looked completely caught off guard - the sort of doe-eyed look she expected from him - “Or you could just hide in my chimney next time,” she said grinning. 

“Not enough space for me-,”

“And your ego?” she questioned, still trying to keep the mood light. 

She had to. 

He still hadn’t asked. 

“Will you?”

“ - What?”

“Go out with me?”

“Yes?” she said with a laugh.

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Did anyone write The Ghost and Mrs Muir or Persuasion? Or did my brain make up stuff?? And do I need to write it?

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“what fandom brought you to tumblr” genuinely none I logged in to use this site like 2010 pinterest and haven’t logged out since 

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You always do prompts well! Here's my prompt: Sherlock overhears Molly saying that she really needs a "Sex on the Beach" (the drink) but he misinterprets that and thinks that she is talking about having sex on a beach.

A/N: I tried, haha. 

Her groan after her announcement unsettles him, especially when she proceeds to hum, licking at her lips in delight, “Yes, sex on the beach would be lovely,” she said giggling to herself, while he feels his throat drying up, and leaves the lab without another word.

Sherlock knew Molly was peculiar when it came to the topic of sexual intercourse, having revealed to him that she was having ‘lots’ when she’d been engaged, but willfully propositioning him?

That was new.

Keep reading

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Hi! I haven't been very active in the Sherlock/Sherlolly fandom lately but dearly miss your writing. I was just wondering - do you write original fiction as well? Or any other ships? Would love to read anything, honestly! If not, that's cool too, you're a very cool and such an incredibly talented writer and got me through some tough times. So, thank you! For sharing you work with world. <3 xx

Thank you so so much ❤️ I’ve been actually tampering with something for a while. Mostly in my head, and I’ve got half finished writing projects laying about in myriads of word documents. I’m just going to have to force myself to write it, because I’ve been pretending that I’ll find my headspace some magic way. The only thing one can do to get there - is write ❤️❤️ I’ve got several other ships locked away, besides original fiction. Hopefully I’ll get something original done ❤️ But thank you so much ❤️❤️❤️

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Sherlolly the prompt is the song You're The Best Thing About Me by U2

I listened to this song, and then automatically Take on me by a-ha came on right after. The universe spoke to me. No, not really. I just wanted to mention that because that song is great. Also this song was really good too, mind you. I’ve never actually listened to it before - - wow, end rant. 

“What do you need?”

“You,” he murmured taking a step toward her.

She did not recoil, lips parted in slight surprise.

There was a beat.

“Okay, what do you want me to do?” she said in a rush, almost tripping over the words.

Sherlock’s eyes seemed to light up instantly, a sudden grin on his face at her eagerness, before his hands were on either side of her face - - and he kissed her.

Keep reading

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Christmas prompt: Sherlock and Molly get into a fight and he wants to apologise, but she's gone to her family's for the holidays and he doesn't know where they are exactly .So he's going caroling door to door to find her

John didn’t know why he’d gotten put up to this. Honestly. Sherlock hadn’t told him what they were doing, though he’d been very specific about the area. 

He’d gotten out of the cab, clapped his gloved hands together and looked expectantly at his friend who’d dragged him out on Christmas Eve of all days to - “What? - - There’s no case?” he’d said, mouth dangling in the air. 

“No,” said Sherlock who strode ahead confidently. “We’re looking for Molly.”

“Molly - Molly Hooper?” John repeated, taking to jog to keep up. 

Sherlock let out a breath, surveying the row and row of identical houses, “Yes.”

“…What did you do?”

“It was just a disagreement.”

“So - -  what are we here for then?” said John stopping up, though feeling more confused when he saw a car race into the street suddenly stop, before Greg Lestrade came running out of the car, gun practically at the ready. 

The detective inspector was breathless when he reached the two, “I came as soon-,”

Sherlock said “No need for that,” - causing Lestrade to disable and holster it, looking a bit put out that he wasn’t action-man for a second.  

“Right, so what’s going on?”

“At least you didn’t bring a team this time.”

Lestrade smile dropped. 

“What - is it one of those other emergency’s?”

John laughed, “Yeah, if finding out which building Molly Hooper is in is an emergency. I thought you’d be able to find her yourself?”

“She’s surprisingly good at covering her tracks.”

“Wait - we’re trying to find Molly?” said Lestrade making a face. “What do you mean she’s good at covering her tracks?”  

“And you know the address, don’t you Greg?”

Lestrade shook his head, “I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“You could have asked him in a text..” said John in a low voice. 

“Wouldn’t have given it to him, either way.”

“What do I have to do?” said Sherlock causing Greg to light up. 

“I don’t know,” he said with a very put on sigh, crossing his arms as if he was thinking it through. “You know what I like to do every year-“

“No. Absolutely not.”

“What?” Said John grinning as well.

“It’s not to everyone’s taste though,” said Greg as sincerely as he could. “But I really do enjoy it.”

John blinked.

Sherlock groaned, “Caroling. Seriously? Three grown men. Alone.”

“The PM did it in Love Actually!”

“Hugh Grant isn’t the actual Prime Minister though, just throwing that out there, Sherlock,” said John unable to hide his laugh.

Sherlock whipped his head towards him, “And you’re up to this as well? Caroling?”

John made a face at that, looking pointedly at Greg, “How many houses before you let up?”

“Ten?”

“TEN?!” Sherlock guffawed. Fury rolling through him.

“Well, if you really want to see her, because we both know why we’re doing this,” said Greg.

Sherlock made a face. Both John and Greg waited with bated breath. John avoided asking any questions as to “why” even if he was dying to know, but he had an inkling as to why. There’d been a phone call. A “i love you” and surprisingly radio silence on either end, after all. No matter how he turned it around his head - if it had meant nothing, then, they wouldn’t be here right now.

“Fine, fine-“ he said waving his hand dismissively, letting Greg lead the way. They rang the door, and just as they were about to - it was Molly who opened the door.

Greg and John wandered off quite quickly after that.

“So, you were pulling his leg?” Said John as they walked off.

“Yeah, ten houses? Are you mad?”

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Sherlolly #1 (Soulmates AU) please? Something with a happy ending?

1: soulmates au. Also for @juldooz who wanted the same au.

Mycroft knew his brother was up to something when he walked into his bedroom, because Sherlock shot up to his full height and glared. Mycroft sighed, leaning against the doorknob.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Sherlock said quickly, all hair and height, disappointingly stereotypical for a young teenager. The high of his cheeks went beetroot red.

“Mummy says that dinner’s ready.” 

“Fine,” Sherlock said tightly, hurrying to the door and skirting past Mycroft. He yelped as Mycroft grabbed his arm.

“That hurt!”

“Be quiet,” Mycroft snapped, yanking his little brother to his side. He turned the inside of his brother’s arm upwards, towards the hall light. Marker pen was scrawled across his skin. Mycroft’s smile sagged as he realised what it said.

“Oh Sherlock…”

“I told you, it’s nothing,” his brother spat, wrenching his arm out of his grip. He tugged at his sleeve uselessly. “I was just experimenting.”

There was a horrible silence between them for a moment. As ever, Mycroft was the one who broke it. “It’s okay,” he said slowly. “I won’t tell our parents.”

“Don’t tease me,” Sherlock spat.

“I’m not—” 

It was too late. Sherlock had disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door hard enough to shake the door off its hinges. The sound of running water filtered through.

“Boys!” called up the voice of their mother. “Stop fighting and come downstairs!”

Mycroft squared his shoulders, clearing his throat. He hurried downstairs, greeting his mother with a kiss on the cheek. Their family had suffered enough; it wasn’t his place to create further upset to his brother. He just had to manage it, that was all.

Keep reading

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Molly, to herself: Everything’s going to be fine. It’s just a little crush.

Sherlock: Hello, Molly.

Molly, under her breath: I love you.

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I’m gonna pretend that Taylor Swift read Invisible Wings just because of the ending of the little short film/music video to …All too well.

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Me, updating my fic: Readers, I need to end it on this point to keep tension high and give you an enjoyable reading experience

Readers, eyes wide: you CLIFFHANGER readers???? You play with their poor hearts like the FOOTBALL? oh! jail for author!! jail for author for one thousand years!!

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Bf has been pushing me to write more, and currently I am back. And also, Vivaldi helped break my lack of creativity. Wonderful.

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Summary: He was a man on a bench. 

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Wait for it, Mike Haddad