jimandsebatyourservice

[jimandsebatyourservice]

Sixty seconds - (2023)

“I learnt how to make myself indispensable with time, but that is also my burden, Detective Inspector, this unfortunate talent to see and understand far beyond the average human capacity, to predict the unpredictable. It would be quite a task to explain to you the sheer extent of my potential, I’m afraid.”

“Spare me your ‘Big Brain Act’, Mycroft. You Holmeses are definitely something, but no one can predict the future, not even you, you can’t see forthcoming events like some bloody psychic. You’re a diplomat, or whatever you want to call yourself this week, not Colin Fry.” (continues below)

Keep reading

[jimandsebatyourservice]

Do you think that when Lestrade confronted his wife about the cheating she let the words "real man" slip through and that hurt him more than the cheating itself?

[jimandsebatyourservice]

Facing the Storm

Mycroft looked at his phone as it buzzed with a number not heard from in nearly two years.

“Hello Inspector, I…”

"Fuck you and that inspector shit!!! I'll be home in thirty. Get over there now, you bastard!" Greg spat, then immediately rang out.

Mycroft stared at his phone and knew there was only ONE reason for the call now.

The day he has looked forward to -and anxiously dreaded was now upon him.

He sighed as he looked out of the sedan window at the dark stormy night of London on his way home. He could barely see out the windscreen, its wipers barely able to hold the tide against the torrential rain that lashed violently against the windows.

"Change of plans, Edgar." Mycroft gave his driver an address on the opposite side of London. "Inspector Lestrade's flat."

"Sir?"

"He's met with my resurrected brother."

“Ah...” Edgar made the U-turn.

This was a different storm for Mycroft to face.

----    ----

Mycroft recalled Gregory's flat faced the front of the building and realized his approach had been noted and was not surprised to find Gregory’s door slightly ajar when he reached it. He was surprised to open it and find a towel that waited on at the table by the door, but not the owner of the flat.

Gregory stood by the wide windows, his back to Mycroft as he watched the raging storm outside.

Mycroft entered, placed his umbrella in the stand and hung his coat next Gregory's on the rack before he faced the room.

In moments of weakness, Mycroft has watched Gregory via cameras. But he had not seen the man in person in nearly two years.

And Gregory… looked good.

The stress of clearing his name at work, and life in general, has made his hair more silver, but he remained a rugged, casually gorgeous man.

There were many things Mycroft Holmes wanted to say to Gregory Lestrade. What came out of his mouth instead was not it.

“You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Gregory flinched; his reflected face glared at Mycroft in disbelief. Mycroft could not blame him; he was appalled with himself at the inappropriate jest. Mycroft suspected the D.I. was purposely keeping his distance, lest he give into the temptation to lay hands on him -and not in a good way.

“Your brother made the same bad joke. He told you he’s seen me…” It was an accusation.

“No, he has not. I know you have by… your level of anger.”

“My level of…” Gregory practically snarled as he spun from the window. “You lied to me, Mycroft. For two fucking years.”

“I never lied to you, Gregory. I couldn’t…”

Gregory started for his kitchen.  "It's shit out there, have a seat. The water's hot and I have the Darjeeling you like."

“I… I think this conversation requires something… stronger.”

Gregory paused, then came back with two glasses and a gift-wrapped box. He threw the paper at Mycroft as he revealed a very expensive bottle of scotch. Scotch that had come up in a conversation during dinner some time ago. Without looking Mycroft knew it was supposed to be a Christmas present from Gregory to  him. Christmas from the previous year as the crumpled-up paper and gift tag in his hands confirmed with a gut punch.

"Thank you.” Mycroft accepted the glass. “Before you speak Gregory, or give to the ardent desire to punch me, will you please hear me out?"

Greg threw him a look, that barely hid the smirk of veracity to the threat. "Whatever."

Mycroft took a fortifying sip of his scotch; not tasting it in his nervousness, as he took a deep breath and began.

“My brother and I. Our relationship… is complicated as you well know. We obfuscate, and omit truths at times, but we never lie when it is of importance and we never break a vow with each other. I told you my brother did what he did to save John, Mrs. Hudson, and you." 

Greg made an impatient get on with it gesture...

"Sherlock made me vow, not promise vow, I would tell no one he was alive – no exceptions.” Mycroft looked at Greg, then lowered his head at the coldness found there. “On St. Bart’s roof, Sherlock found a loophole in Moriarty’s reasoning. One in which Moriarty committed suicide to close it shut… And thus, Sherlock…jumped.”

There was no time to arrange visual, but Sherlock had been wired, so Mycroft had heard everything between Sherlock and Moriarty. Still, Mycroft shuddered in the memory of those harrowing seconds after the gunshot, when he had no idea whether one or both on the roof were dead. Mycroft’s overwhelmingly relief in receiving Sherlock’s text LAZARUS was immediately overshadowed in the enormity of then carrying out LAZARUS IS GO.

Even now nearly two years later, Mycroft shuddered in the memory.

“Gregory, I made that vow in the planning stages never believing it would be needed.” Mycroft forced himself to continue. “I made that vow before I realized keeping that vow meant I had to lie to the man I was then only realizing I had fallen in love with.” Mycroft looked up and held Gregory’s eyes. He watched as Gregory took the words and processed them; saw the moment the impact of them registered and continued, “Yes, I said he jumped, but I never said that he died. No exceptions, unfortunately included you, Gregory. I could not bear to ask him to let me tell the man I loved whom I could see whenever I wanted, when he risked everything for John and could not.” Mycroft drained his glass and put it down. “And I absolutely could not continue to face you with that hanging over my head. I could not. So, I… I kept my vow… And withdrew from you.”

“I know.” Gregory said quietly after a moment.

“You know?”

“Well, I do now…” Gregory admitted. “Sherlock snuck his resurrection on me in NSY carpark. Once I got over the shock, he told me the much the same as you about your vow. And…” Gregory ran rough hand through his hair, setting it awry. “…He begged me to forgive you - but still did not really know why I should… until now.”

Mycroft understood it meant Sherlock had not broken his vow to Mycroft to not tell Gregory of his love.

The silence stretched long and uncomfortable as both men watched the storm outside until Mycroft’s phone buzzed.

Text>> I tried to explain, but he was livid upon realizing you’ve known all this time. I did not realize it was reciprocal until I saw his face. It is the same fury and hurt I saw with John. If you see him, know that I did not tell what is yours to say to him. – SH Text>> In retrospect, I see now I have broken four hearts with this vow I forced upon you. I do not know if John can ever forgive me in this – or if Greg will with you. – SH Text>> I am sorry. – SH

Mycroft sighed and showed Gregory the texts.

“John will forgive him… eventually...”  Gregory stood, poured himself a fresh drink and walked away to stare out the window again.

Mycroft understood the silent dismissal for what it was. He went to the door and took his things before he opened it.

“Is my brother right, Gregory?”

“Yes, it is reciprocated. And yes, I am furious and hurt…” Gregory answered after a moment.

Mycroft stepped out and with his back to Greg and his hand on the door, he forced himself to ask one last question. “And will you forgive me?”

“Eventually…but not tonight.”

Mycroft left. Outside, he looked at the continuing deluge, undecided on which storm was worse.

----------------------------------------

Read/Comment on AO3

@mystradepromptsandscenarios

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[jimandsebatyourservice]

Professional Courtesy - (2023)

“What do you mean exactly by ‘Larry has a better salary than you’?”

“Larry works at Downing Street, Gregory. His position as ‘Chief Mouser to the Cabinet Office’ makes him, consequently and undeniably, your superior. Hence his high salary…and his Tier 5 Security Clearance as well.”

“Tier 5?! Are you kidding me?! Mine is only Tier 3! How?”

“Because you are a DI and he works for the Prime Minister, it is as simple as that.”

“He doesn’t ‘work’, Mycroft. It's a cat, and a pretty fat one at that! He doesn't do anything except for sleeping all day and stretching his paws in front of the press. And he's spending more time on our sofa snoring in front of Peppa Pig than catching mice at Number 10.”

“I would be grateful if you could go easy on the body shaming. You know that Larry is extremely sensitive about his body. So, that kind of language won't be tolerated. *sigh* And, as you well may know, things are getting pretty complicated at Downing Street at the moment. Welcoming Larry is just professional courtesy between civil servants.”

“Yes, my love, professional courtesy. I’m sure it has nothing to do with you being an absolute cat dad, but keep telling yourself that.*cronch*

A big thank you to @vegetadaily for the beta 💗

[jimandsebatyourservice]

MorMor- A sniper, a psychopath and a shack in the middle of nowhere

Before this happened, Sebastian Moran could count on one hand the number of times he’d been ‘graced’ with his boss’s presence during his two year employment. He admired Moriarty of course, had a deep appreciation of the sheer primal darkness that swelled outwards whenever the Irishman occupied a room. And by god was the man attractive. But he’d never truly spent that much time with the consulting criminal for that appreciation to take the form of anything beyond brief thoughts of lust and graphic dreams. 

This all changed however when Jim decided to tag along on Sebastian’s holiday and the ex-colonel was blessed with glimpses of a different side of the seemingly cold hearted businessman- a softer, lonelier side… a side Sebastian could fall in love with.

P.S if tumblr doesn’t post this properly it’s Major’s from IZombie’s fault cause he’d a douchebag and to blame for everything wrong in this world :P 

[jimandsebatyourservice]

Gif by @suledins

B: My dick is so hard for you right now. What are you gonna do about it , Harrington?

S: Ignore you.

...

B: But it's getting even harder.

[jimandsebatyourservice]

[jimandsebatyourservice]

Baby I'm preying on you tonight

Hunt you down eat you alive

Just like animals

/╲/\( •̀ ω •́ )/\╱\🕸️🐯

[jimandsebatyourservice]

Jim Moriarty will, on occasion, have the heads of moles and turncoats displayed on pikes on Traitor's Bridge. The police never find out who's behind it, of course, but all the big players in the criminal underground know exactly what it means to see a prior associate listed among the victims in the news.

[jimandsebatyourservice]

seb: whats your type

jim: idk, snipers?

seb: i mean your blood type because i think i just stabbed you in your groin.

[jimandsebatyourservice]

Mormor Headcanons

-seb has a green thumb, jim… does not

-jims nicknames for seb: basher, bastian, seb, sebby, tiger, kitten

-sebs nicknames for jim: James (mad), jim, Mr Moran (once theyre solid), Mr Moriarty, boss (kinky)

-SEB KEEPS TIGER LILIES AROUND FUCK YOU IF YOU DONT AGREE

-theyre murder husbands but also have soft, fluffy non sexual moments too, ykwim?

-seb works out quite a bit

-jim has awful work habits, mostly out of passion for his job 🕷

-seb, as we know from the fact that he went to Mr Pretentious Brit School, hes super smart, but is usually the brawn/doesnt use his intelligence very often, but when jim asks for his advice and he already has a whole plot ready jim thinks its really hot

-seb has a full back tatoo of a tiger (wait, i actually have a few design ideas in mind)

-seb has a nice voice (0 criticism will be taken)

-seb is stupid good a connect 4 (yes they play stupid games) but usually lets jim win

-seb will sometimes just walk behind jim and pick him up bridal style

-seb is 6′2 and jim is 5′7

-i have wedding tuxedo designs if anyone wants to see them

i can explain, if need be

[jimandsebatyourservice]

Mormor seal!

Apparently I have no idea how to take photos💀

[jimandsebatyourservice]

Seb: Hey, I’m getting in the shower. Wanna help me out?

Jim: ...Have you never taken a shower before?

[jimandsebatyourservice]

[prompt from @mathematicallyinsignificant - i want jim to have to apologize.]

“Sebastian!” Jim called, hurrying forward at an undignified pace, somewhere between a walk and a jog. Small raindrops spilled onto his face, the beginnings of a storm brewing up in the heavens. The sniper took the stairs up to the navy front door of their Mayfair flat two at a time, leaving Jim to struggle behind.

“Sebastian.”

The front door slammed shut behind them, blocking out a gust of cool evening air. The bulky figure in front of Jim kept moving forward, dropping his jacket on the floor without a word. Jim didn’t stop to pick it up, mouth tightening in warning. “I said, Sebastian. Hold on, will you?” Annoyance and breathlessness battled for supremacy in his voice; the other man had kept up his very brisk pace all the way from the parking garage to the flat, and Jim’s legs just weren’t as long as his.

Sebastian kept moving away and he kept following, past the living room and through the hallway. His silence was glaringly loud as he pushed their bedroom door open, and Jim’s heart skipped a beat to see him heading straight for their closet. Panic made his voice high and flippant. “Don’t be ridiculous. You have to know I wasn’t actually considering it.”

“Do I.”

Two words were all it took for the enormity of the situation to impress itself. Sebastian’s voice was deep and crisp and cold, and Jim recognized, now, the calculating stillness that took hold of his sniper in those life-or-death situations he chased so ardently.

Sebastian hadn’t been fuming on the way back. He’d been thinking.

Keep reading

[jimandsebatyourservice]

we as a society need jim shaving seb’s face cause the latter is too wounded to lift his arms

[jimandsebatyourservice]

Jim: Did it hurt when you fell-

Seb: From heaven? Wow, I didn’t think you were such a flirt-

Jim: No, I meant when you fell down the stairs.

Seb: ...

Jim: You just laid there for 15 minutes.

[jimandsebatyourservice]

another late night, but there’s somebody waiting for you in the dark.

(click for higher resolution)