#NO ONE I MEAN LITERALLY NOBODY IN THE WORLD DOES IT LIKE MR BAKER

[ufonaut]

You know, I never really noticed how many open flames there are in Manhattan.

You Are Here (1998) #1

(Kyle Baker)

[coconutknightshade]

The Hoodie™

Word Count: 3644 Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker / Iron Man & His Spider Son

Summary:  The one in which Tony overhears Peter telling his roommate that the MIT hoodie he's wearing is his dads. The one in which Peter never plans to call Tony 'dad' to his face but the universe has other plans.

Based on This Post by Lexi (Tony-Where’s-My-SuperSuit)

Read Here OR Read Below

Peter is hunched over in his underwear with one leg down his jeans when his roommate comes barreling through the door. They freeze, eyes locked on the other for a half minute before they both burst out laughing. Harry claps him on the back with a shake of his head as he walks by, causing Peter to stumble forward with a laugh.

“Jerk,” he teases under his breath. Harry winks at him good-naturedly. They aren’t exactly friends, not yet anyways. Move in day had been a little awkward. Peter had insisted on moving into his dorm room alone, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to keep it together if May had been there with him. It hadn’t mattered much, both he and May were emotional as he packed up the latest on the market Jeep Grand Cherokee that Mr. Stark had insisted on getting him upon graduation- To the surprise of literally nobody but Peter. The official move-in day had been only a few weeks prior and as it would turn out his roommate came from a long line of Harvard graduates, which begged the question as to why they were moving their kid into an MIT dorm. They had asked Peter a million and one questions about his future as well as a few questions about his family. The answers to which Peter had kept vague.

With the initial orientation officially over and classes in full swing Peter Parker’s life up to this point has been a whirlwind of simultaneous excitement and exhaustion. Fortunately, the last several years spent with Tony in the lab until the wee hours of morning (or until Pepper pulled them our kicking and screaming) has prepared him for minimal hours of sleep. UNfortunately, today it is rapidly catching up to him. He’d slept restlessly the night before, texting Tony until nearly 3AM - “Did you know on the last day that you’re allowed to drop classes everyone pushes a piano off of Baker House? Were you part of that when you were here? Hey, how’s Morgan by the way? I miss her. Can you believe May and Happy are together? Is Happy going to propose? You would know and you’re legally obligated to tell me if he is.” - before finally crashing hard. Because of this Peter hadn’t rolled out of bed until mid morning and hadn’t showered until noon, which brings him to the present. Half dressed and unintentionally putting on a show for his roommate.

“This campus is massive. I mean, I’ve already gotten turned around 3 times today,” Harry says in amazement as he hauls himself up onto the bed. The two of them had gone out and bought bed risers so they could create lofts after having decided that placing their desks beneath them would leave more floor space for them to work on any projects they had brought from back home. It means Peter has the room he needs to lay out all of his tools so that he can work on his suite whenever Harry is out. And more fortune for Peter, he’s learned early on that his roommate is the party type and as such he’s already had three nights to himself to work.

East Campus is MIT’s second oldest dorm building but she’s sturdy. Peter loves it. Not only are the undergrads allowed to physically alter their dorms however they like (one kid installed what she calls a Domino’s Button that automatically orders Dominos whenever pressed), they’re also allowed to paint the rooms. This brought Tony much satisfaction, as evident by the text he sent Peter in the wee hours of the morning, most assuredly after a 30 hour day - “Don’t worry, Spiderling. I’ll send you some red and gold paint. I’m also sending you a care package filled with Iron Man figurines, Iron Man boxers, and a custom Iron Man comforter. You’re welcome. XOXO” And so long as they comply with the fire code, they’re allowed to alter the common areas as well. Their floor has already had several brainstorming sessions on what they could do to be original this year. Peter is living for the sense of community. Walking through the halls is an experience in and of itself- Nearly everyone keeps their doors open, much like Harry had done when he practically fell through the door. Odd music blares through the halls, as does the occasional peals of laughter. Sometimes it’s too much to handle but fortunately one of Tony’s many parting gifts had been small nondescript ear plugs that effectively dial the world down to a more normal level. Peter had stared down at them in amazement… “I- Mr. Stark, I can’t thank you enough. This will- Will help so much, wow.” “You can thank me by having a good time, kid.”  

In all, Peter is more comfortable than he initially anticipated given the fact that neither Ned or MJ were there with him.

“The campus is massive. And swarming with children and parents,” Peter adds absently, digging through his dirty laundry hamper for something comfortable. It’s the start of Family Week and the place is crawling with people. Students excitedly pull their family through campus. The university is hosting picnics, social events, and even several free seminars throughout the week for family members to attend if it tickles their fancy. Next week is First Year Residential Exchange (FYRE) and the East Campus dorm has already began working on what will be a fully functioning roller coaster in their courtyard. Parent alumni are encouraged to assist.

Peter is grateful that Family Week is, well, family week . May on occasion still works long hours at the hospital, and with MIT being four and a half hours from home hitting a 24 hour period, or even a 48 hour period just wouldn’t have cut it. As such, May (and Happy), will be there come Thursday and Peter is quite literally counting down the days. He considered asking Mr. Stark, who Peter definitely considers family, but he had hesitated. While he’s sure that Tony feels the same way about him, Peter still has those pockets of insecurities. After having lost his parents and his uncle Peter oftentimes worries about losing the rest of his family, even those not of blood and recently acquired.

“Whoa, that’s really neat?” Harry’s questioning voice pulls him from his thoughts and Peter glances up as the kid hops back down off the bed to stand in front of Peter. His eyes are trained on Peter’s chest and he reaches out to tug at the fabric. “That’s got to be vintage now, right?”

Peter looks down at his MIT hoodie that he’d just slipped over his head. Well, it isn’t his per se. It’s actually one of Tony’s old hoodies. One that Peter had stolen - long term borrowed, thank you very much - several years back, not long after his sixteenth. Tony had been on a mission with the Avengers. It had been overseas and dangerous enough that Peter had been told under no circumstances was he allowed to tag along. He’d pouted for a few days, wallowing in the anxiety that gripped him whenever he thought about them leaving. Blame the anxiety on his spidey sense, for as it would turn out, Tony and the others had quickly found themselves driven underground for nearly two and a half months. So far underground that they had gone completely radio silent. Director Fury had insisted that it had all been part of the plan and that while Tony wasn’t in contact with Pepper he had certainly remained in contact with the Director. All lies.

Those two months of silence had been a nightmare. He’d spent nearly every weekend, occasionally skipping days of school, with Pepper at the tower. They had both failed miserably at distracting each other from the crippling worries that something was definitely wrong. But it had been a bonding experience and Peter remembers clearly the night he was woken by FRIDAY to Pepper having a breakdown on her bedroom floor after having found out that she was pregnant and, “God, Peter, what if Tony never comes back?” After an emotionally charged night Peter had slipped into Tony’s closet and dug around for something, anything, of Tony’s that might offer comfort. Something that might help him sleep better at night when the fear of losing yet another father figure threatened to consume him. That’s when he found the hoodie. It was comfortable and late in the night when Peter felt tears sting his eyes and when the world felt like too much of a burden, being wrapped up in it felt a lot like a hug.

Peter loves this hoodie. He’s never told Tony about it and the man has never indicated that he’d noticed one missing. And up to this point Peter has never been asked about it.

“Yeah,” Peter says soft and a little awkwardly, scratching at the base of his head. “It was my Dad’s.”

The word rolls off his tongue so easily, as if he’s said it a thousand and one times when in fact he’s never done so before. Not out loud at least. Saying it now though feels like the most natural thing in the world- It feels right. And the thing is, Peter does consider Tony to be his Dad. He has a Father, Richard, whom he loves very dearly, but who he has very few memories of. And of course he has his Uncle Ben who he also loves to the moon and back again. But he only ever thought of the man as such. Tony though… Tony feels like his Dad - A title different from both Father and Uncle.

Yeah. Tony is his Dad. And though he’s never said the word out loud, never admitted it even to his two closest friends and absolutely never to Tony himself, Peter had internally drafted the man into the role several years back when Tony had gleefully shoved him towards one of the Audi’s and said, “Today’s the day, Underoos. You’re going to learn how to drive while we take a road trip down the coast.” In the city, with all the public transportation and given the fact that May could never afford a vehicle for him, Peter hadn’t given much thought to learning. There was no rush. Tony, however, felt differently.

“Was?” Harry asks eyebrows knit together in confusion before softening. “Is he, you know, dead?”

“Wha- No,” Peter huffs, quiet laughter in his voice at having been caught off guard by the question. “He’s very much alive and well.” You can hear the fondness in his voice as he absently tugs at the hem of the hoodie, almost bashful in the way his eyes drop down to the worn out frayed MIT logo on the front.

“Well,” a voice, a very familiar voice, cuts in, “Pepper might disagree with you on that one, kiddo.”

Peter whirls around to see Tony Stark, the man he’s just referred to as Dad to his roommate, standing there in the doorway with his signature sunglasses hiding whatever emotion was there behind the eyes. Peter can’t be sure just how much Tony has overheard, but he suspects the man heard it all. Something in his gut tightens- What if Tony doesn’t react well, or possibly worse, what if he doesn’t react at all?

Peter misses the way his roommates jaw drops as he stumbles back a step or two in surprise when Tony steps further into the room, casual as ever. In a single fluid motion he removes the sunglasses and, as if he doesn’t see the other kid at all, smiles warmly at Peter. Maybe, Peter thinks, Tony doesn’t mind what he overheard afterall.

“Pepper says I need to watch my cholesterol.” He pauses for a moment before adding, “And my attitude. I told her I could only watch one or the other.” He winks at Peter, shaking him from his thoughts, and Peter playfully rolls his eyes while ignoring the remaining tendrils of anxiety that bleed into his veins. Tony strolls across the room and pulls Peter’s head toward him so he can kiss the side of it- “You’re too tall, kid. Make it stop.” - before ruffling his hair and wrapping an arm around his shoulders to pull him in snug against his side. Tony makes the move, something he’s never done before, feel so effortless as though it were something normal between them, as if he really is his Dad. Peter doesn’t hesitate to lean into the man's side. He’s tugging harder at the hem of his hoodie now. No way he can keep it under the radar at this point. Tony’s eyes are trained on him, as if watching for Peter’s own reaction to the display of affection, and Peter’s lips widen into a blinding smile, full of warmth and admiration.

Harry casually clears his throat, distracting the both of them, and Tony turns a press worthy smile to the kid before leaning forward to shake his hand.

“Hey kid, name’s Tony. But you already knew that. I’m Peter’s Dad.”

Harry, still dumbfounded and glancing between The Tony Stark™ and his roommate, shakes the man’s hand far longer than one would consider normal. “Harry Osborne.”

The two exchange quick pleasantries but Peter doesn’t really hear any of it. Tony has just told a complete stranger that he was his Dad and he hadn’t even hesitated in doing so. He’s pulled Peter into a hug, ruffled his hair fondly, and introduced himself as Peter’s Dad. No qualifiers. No “Well, not biologically of course.” No “He was a stray I picked up and decided to keep.” He ducks his head with a small smile that Tony must have caught anyways because suddenly he’s being pulled even tighter against his mentor. His chest- Peter wonders if Tony’s reaction to being called Dad mirrors how he feels hearing Tony refer to himself as his Dad.

Peter can’t help himself, he laughs, giddy in the surrealism of the moment. It pulls him from his thoughts and his cheeks color when he realizes Tony is watching him closely, face serious save the smallest quirk of the corners of his mouth. Harry has sidestepped over to his desk, sliding into the chair with a muttered, ‘Tony Stark is in my fucking dorm room. What the fuck is my life?’ as his eyes flicker between the two of them.

Tony pulls Peter further to his side of the room and brushes a hand fondly across the top of his head, messing once again with the damp mop of hair. The knot of anxiety in his gut completely unravels and he’s positive that Tony takes note of the way he physically relaxes.

“What?” Tony teases. “Did you think I wasn’t going to spend a solid week embarrassing you at every opportunity presented? What kind of Dad would that make me?” And there it is again. Peter’s stomach flips. “I’ve booked a room across town for the week. I’m going to take you out, show you all of the secret hidey holes on campus. It’s gonna be gr-”

“I don’t know,” Peter looks hesitant and it stops Tony in his tracks. “The fifties was so long ago- They might’ve demolished some of those buildings since then.” He looks so serious Tony has to blink a few times to shake the confusion. Then Peter’s serious expression cracks and the kid is smirking far too similarly to the way Tony does.

“You’re a rotten kid and I’m telling May. And Morgan. I’m going to facetime her right now and tattle on you.” Tony flicks Peter’s ear, clicking his tongue in disapproval and ignoring the wide amused smile the kid is sending his way. Peter nearly giggles and Tony hooks a hand around the back of his head and drags him in against his chest for a bruising hug that Peter accepts eagerly. His heart swells and he wraps his arms tight around Tony, fingers curling into the back of his Armani suit. He buries his face into the crook of Tony’s neck, hiding his embarrassment when Tony says, “I’m so fucking proud of you, Peter.”

He doesn’t even try to whisper and Peter squirms, always awkward under praise. Something that hasn’t changed over the years, much to Tony’s delight - “Pepper look! He saw the Decathlon trophy I put up on the mantel in pride , and he blushed. Isn’t this kid great?” Tony doesn’t let him pull away, but he does lower his voice.

“You’re fucking brilliant and you deserve to be here. May told me what you said- And I know you’ve wondered whether or not I had any involvement in your admission process and I want to make it unequivocally clear that I spoke to no one prior to you submitting your application nor after the process began.” He flushes when Tony pulls away, keeping his hands on Peter’s shoulder and dipping his head to catch the kids eye. Tony’s expression is so serious that Peter struggles to maintain eye contact. He had wondered about whether Tony had spoken to anyone in admissions. It wasn’t like Peter didn’t know that the man had connections. And it’s not like Tony had been subtle in the way he dropped hints about MIT. Peter found brochures everywhere- His backpack, the drawers in the kitchen, his bedroom, “The bathroom, Tony? Really??” Of course Peter had wondered. Now he feels shame for ever considering such a thing. The man has more integrity than that. Tony, for his part, is already shaking his head. He knows Peter well enough to know where the kids thoughts are going.

“Listen Petey, it makes sense, I know it does. However, I would never get involved in something of this magnitude. This...MIT?” he lets go of Peter to sweep his arms around, turns his body as if to encompass everything around them. “This is all you, kid. Absolutely one hundred and ten percent your success. You and you alone. I never once doubted, not in the least. Christ, Peter, I’m so proud of you.”

Peter’s heart feels like it’s going to burst under the praise. Under Tony’s praise. His Dad . And wow, it felt so good to let that thought cross through his mind so openly, like a weight has been lifted and permission for using the term fully granted. Peter huffs a laugh and quickly brings a fabric clad wrist up to wipe away the tears he hadn’t realized were threatening to slip down his face. Tony’s got a hand pressed to the side of his head, thumb brushing across his cheek bone and fuck he just looks so fond and so proud and Peter can hardly take it.

“You’re so dramatic… Dad?” Peter chokes the word out, emotion thick in his voice nearly as much as the hesitation there at the end. He breaks eye contact with Tony, deciding instead to count the polka dots on his pocket square. Blood is pounding in his head and when Tony doesn’t immediately respond he swallows thickly and looks back up. Tony is outright beaming now and Peter realizes he’s been chewing at his lower lip in thinly veiled anxiety.

Tony huffs, standing up straighter. “I’ll have you know, Underoos, that I have absolutely never been dramatic a single day in my magnanimous life. Not once. Ask Pepper- Wait no, don’t ask. She won’t back me up. But she’s also a liar, so.” Peter rolls his eyes but bursts out laughing at Tony’s obvious theatrics and nearly throws himself back against Tony’s chest. Tony lets out a little oophf when he hits his chest but Peter doesn’t notice and Tony doesn’t mind. Peter is only aware of the comforting weight of Tony’s arms as they wrap around him. He feels safe. He feels loved in a way he hadn’t really noticed before. Somehow both everything and nothing about their relationship seems to have changed with a single word.

They stay like that, silent and really reveling in the moment before Tony breaks it with a soft, “Love you, kiddo. I couldn’t ask for a better son.” It’s such a sweet moment, such a serious moment and well, it’s Tony . He gives it about four seconds before taking a deep serious breath and adds, “Alright. Now let’s get this bread.”

Peter groans, mortified, and playfully shoves Tony away from him. “You’re the worst. I’m taking the internet away from you. Cancelled. Denied. Child locks enabled.”

“Is that any way to speak to your old man?” Tony scoffs and Peter rolls his eyes. “You’re grounded.” He tugs Peter, his son, against his side and guides him out of the room. “No, really. Now that you’ve been admitted I wholeheartedly intend to show you off to every administrator on campus that I know. Because that’s what you get to do when you’re a Dad.”

“So that’s why you’re in the Armani,” Peter hums in amusement, stomach once again doing flips as Tony embraces being called Dad by a kid he’s made it very clear now that he thinks of as a son. “It’s all coming together now.” Tony looks over and winks at him conspiratorially.

“Just for today. After that it’s all jeans and MIT shirts for the rest of the week. We’ll match! Loving you in the hoodie, by the way. It was the first one I bought when I hit campus. Not sure when you lifted it from me, but it looks good, kid. Pepper and Morgan fly in tomorrow. Be ready- Ever since Morgan you know how Pepper is with the pictures.” Peter cringes. He’s pretty sure more photos of him have been taken over the last several years than had been taken in his entire life up to that point. He can’t complain though. He loves his family.

END 

* FUN FACTS: The Piano Drop Day is a legitimate thing as is the name of the building they push it off! FYRE week is a legitimate thing! East Campus is an actual dorm building, they're actually allowed to paint the rooms and alter the common areas AND the Dominos Button is a real example. AND BEST of all- The roller coaster in the dorm courtyard was something they actually constructed during FYRE week! FYRE week is Freshman Year Resident Exchange in which they open all of the residential halls and encourage freshman's to explore them all to see if they want to stay in their dorms or transfer! Basically anything related to MIT aside from family week (though to be fair I'm pretty sure every campus has a family day or week) is accurate.

[pandorafics]

A College Bartender Au

(( Well then 🙃 I'm still breaking my rules here. Psst @sk-1522. It' here. I want to thank @apologieslogan for dropping the initial idea for the fic so this is for them.

-Pandora

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Cw: I don't think so, not yet

Word count: 2,064

 “ Roman? Are you okay?” Patton finally questioned while he looked at his friend pouring over textbooks. Two empty coffee cups by the drama nerd's side. To the young baker… this was like seeing every world monument at once.  It was amazing. However, it was also frightening that it was possible.

    “No, I am dying. I have all this stuff to do, and barely any time. Mrs. Dominic is going to laugh at this exam grad, it's curtains for sure!”   Roman groaned dropping his head into the books in front of him with a sigh. Ro reached for his third coffee, he only raised his head when the cup was gripped tightly in his hand.

    “You never worried about Mrs. Dominic's class before and you typically pass. Which is impressive enough. She doesn't like anyone.”

    “Patton I have been bewitched by this handsome glasses clad fellow with a mind sharper than my sword.” Roman whined before taking a sip of his coffee, “ She actually likes him, Patton.  She is actually a human with him! I don't get it!  How! How does any one person get into a casual conversation with her? Debate with her. And then carry on as normal!”  He ranted in frustration his hands moving as he talked. However, his movements were more spastic since he was tired.

    The baker sighed his hand reached into his bag and pulled out two cookies setting them down on the napkin. The smaller man ignored the sounds of annoyance coming from others in the coffee shop. “ Logan?  He is just really smart. Mrs. Dominic has a lot of respect. For kids like him. I am sure he is not a snob just talk to him.”

    “No I will prove I am sm- oh there he is.” Roman silenced himself looking down at the multitude of books. As the nerd entered the shop placing his order.   Logan glanced around the boisterous shop before spotting an acquaintance of his, Patton (he hoped), gently patting the back of another student appearing to try and study.  

    Trying was the keyword in Logan's mind. The man was hunched over multiple books. His hair ruffled from shoving a hand through it repeatedly.  There we two empty disposable cups by his side and one griped in tight fingers while he stared at the same spot on the page from only inches away.  That settled it.

   “Greetings Patton, how are you today?”  Logan questioned as he walked over. He had time before his order was completed. Patton smiled at his friend waving.

    “Hi, Logan! I’m doing pretty good, what about you? “

    “Satisfactory, unlike your friend it seems, anything I can assist with?” Logan remarked in a seemingly neutral tone.  

    “I am fine!” Roman protested, in an offended tone. Logan hummed looking at the page he was trying to study, and then looked up to meet the brown eyes that were narrowed in a glare at him.

    “You're failing to study correct?” Logan said his blue eyes narrowed at the stubbornness of the other.

    “Logan, please. Just let him focus. This is important to him.”  Patton interjected looking between his two friends.

    “This is actually very important to me and I have it under control,” Roman added with a huff.

    “Then how about this. I'll ask a question answer it correctly without peaking at the page in front of you and I will let it go. If you answer incorrectly. I show you how to study properly.” Logan said calmly looking at the boys in front of him.  Roman looked at the nerd, who had the balls to talk to him like that.

    “Fine ask away to teach. I have been studying for hours I got this!”

    “ Alright.” Logan pulled a notebook from his bag and opened to a blank page. He wrote ‘Long-term Memory’ at the top.

    Patton sat to the side sipping hot chocolate with a small smirk, to avoid sighing at Roman’s mistake. Like it or not this was one of Roman's worst subjects. To Patton, Roman Just let his stubbornness dictate his actions.  

    Logan drew two branches one veering left and the other veering right. The branch on the right he left a two line gap then drawing a branch going down a line. Before stopping. On the left branch, he left a two line gap drew a branch going down another two-line gape and then two more branches veering right and left.  “This is the graph at the top of the page, fill in the subdivisions of long-term memory and what falls into those categories.”

    “ Logan Croft?” The barista called out, Logan stood up and looked at Roman.

    “One moment.” The nerd said before walking away Roman looked at the paper Logan had just drawn and grumbled. His pride kept him from cheating. However, Ro struggled to remember what he had read.  

    “You have got to be kidding me. I literally have been studying this page for an hour. I should know this.” He grumbled before naming the ones he kinda thought that he knew.  He was disappointed in himself, to say the least. However Roman kept trying. This nerd was not going to strip him of his pride.  

    Not when this nerd also charmed him.  He bowed his head trying to think. It was not working. Nothing was helping.  “ So, have you finished?”

    Roman huffed as the neutral tone spoke to him again. “ I huh- no I'm not.”   

    “Right… at any rate, I have twenty minutes to get to class and will probably not be able to wait until it comes to you. Here are my address and number. If you want the help simply text me when your coming. And please get some rest. It is important if you actually want to retain any of the information you have been haphazardly gorging on. Good day.”  Logan set a piece of paper on the table. A gloved hand holding his coffee as he walked away.

    The drama kid looked at his friend with wide eyes. “What the-”

    “ One more thing?” Logan called over his shoulder looking at the pair.  Roman swallowed nervously.

    “ Yes?”  

    “ Water helps the brain function more than coffee.”  The nerd said before leaving to his class. This time Roman waited until the ding of the bell before allowing himself to give a look of sheer bewilderment.  

    “ Did that really just happen?”

    “ Yes, I am so sorry Ro, he can be a bit-”

    “ I have a study date!  And it is something he has a passion for!” Roman sang out as if the spirits had just been lifted by guardian angels. Several ‘hushs’ were hissed out at the pair. It was early enough that nobody was ready for Roman Prince's version of extra.

    “ No no no. Roman this is bad. How do you intend to focus when you're sitting less than two feet in front of him. You couldn't even manage to keep it together in the same room as him!” Patton snapped hoping his hopeless friend would see reason.

    Another hush from the people behind them had Roman packing his bag. He wanted to sing and scream from the rooftop.  These people wanted to be boring and wake up for the day. Roman understood. As for what Patton said, Roman could only sigh. “ Patton I will take care of this don't worry.  I need to go, rest, bathe, and rejuvenate!” Roman standing as he adjusted his bag and moved to walk out the door.

    “Roman. His number. “ Patton sighed holding out the paper Logan had left behind.

   “ Oh, right, thanks,”  Roman stated rubbing the back of his neck. He walked back and accepted the napkin. The grin on his face so wide Patton thought the skin would tear.  

    Patton put on a smile, “No problem kiddo just try not to upset your roommate again.”  

    “Surly Temple will be fine. He is used to my antics that is if he is even there. The grouch usually leaves for work by now.”  Roman says calmly as Patton gathered up his own belongings. By the time Pat looked back up Ro had disappeared. Whatever happened, Logan better not break his friend's heart.

   Logan shook his head with a sigh as he went to class, that poor, huh, he hadn't even gotten a name.  That was… unlike him, usually, Lo would get to at least know someone before offering to help someone study. Yet, the young man seemed to be the exception. No matter. He will behave better next time. Granted coffee boy didn't think he was an asshole and never spoke to him again.  

   The twenty-year-old sighed softly when his phone buzzed twice, and then twice more, curious.  A flick of his thumb would show one text was His co-worker and friend Virgil, the other was an unknown number from presumably the coffee boy from fifteen minutes ago.  Virgil first, after all, it may be business related.

    ‘morning teach, hey we still practicing at noon? I really need to get away from the singing lunatic. He just burst in the damn door singing Queen and I can not handle it if I have work at four thirty. ‘

    Shame, Virgil was always having issues with the theater kid, and it was annoying  ‘ You have my apartment key, go rest there. Just try not to make a mess. And we will practice when I come home. Free pouring, hopefully, you won't plant me into the ground this time.  Your muddling needs work, desperately, so we will also make a pitcher of Sangria. Pop quiz: What does “with a twist” mean?’

    ‘ I'll take that as a good morning. with a twist is a ref to the garnish a piece of lemon to add flavor to the drink.’

   ‘ What is the form of lemon?’

   ‘ Lo, it is 7:43 in the morn. Lemon wedge I guess :/’

‘  “With a twist” is the addition of citrus peel used to enhance the flavor of a beverage based on the flavor profile. I will see you after class.’  

   ‘ Do you ever slow down? You just ran a 7-3am here it is 7:43 am and you're starting again? Ever hear of burnout?’

   ‘ If your free pour counts were as accurate as your astute observations of the clock. I'd be out of a tutoring job.’

    ‘ Uhh fuck you lo’

    ‘ I am not a fan of aggravated copulation rituals, therefore I am going to have to reject your… less than the kind offer.’  Logan responded a final time before walking into his first class of the day. His phone turned off and put away as the professor started the discussion with an air of expertise that Logan had always idolized. The confidence, and demanding presence.  The teacher didn't force people to pay attention to. His words were thoughtful and questioning prompting discussion from everyone while notes were written on the board.

Logan Croft loved to learn. it was his blood.

   Virgil shook his head at Logan's response, taken literally again. He had no clue if it was intentional or not at this point. However as much as it annoyed him, it was funny that Lo could be so smart, yet so dumb.  The rookie stood grabbing his bag and sauntering out of the door. Honestly, “ We Are the Champions, ” is a solid song even if it isn't his cup of coffee. However, there is a time and place dude.

   Roman undressed his eyes glancing at the scars, it was a liberating feeling.  The binding had never done his singing any good. Nevermind he was not the most cautious, but he could breathe deep now. Hold a note.  His eyes never looked below the scars, he couldn't.

      A half hour later he was in bed,  his fingers laced behind his nearly black hair.  Roman could get some rest, he had sent Logan a text that he would be at his place by 12:45. That would do for now. He could pack study supplies later.    

    Logan hadn't realized he had dozed off in class. He didn't even recall feeling particularly tired. Well at the coffee shop maybe, but the caffeine, sugar, and taurine( from an energy drink at work earlier) should have assisted him.  He was still out cold in his astrology lecture.

[superwholock-marvel-images]

Through Time and Space 12

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

“Oh dear god.” You say looking at your phone.

“What?” Dean asks walking over to you.

“Sherlock found a mouse… he wants to put it in the microwave.” You answer shoving your phone back into your pocket. “Doctor mind if we stop at Baker Street?”

“Sure.” The Doctor replies.

The TARDIS lands outside Baker street, you and your siblings head inside. Katie stops to talk to Mrs. Hudson. It appears that your brothers are staying downstairs with Katie. “Sherlock, what are you doing?” You ask.

“Bored.” He sulkily mutters.

“Again?” Sherlock nods. “Mouse, please.” Sherlock sighs and walks over to where he stashed the mouse and hands it to you. Thankfully it’s still alive. You sigh and open a window and put the mouse in a nearby flower pot. “I can understand why you said Mycroft threatened you with knighthood.” You say breaking the awkward silence between you and your flatmate.

“What do you mean?” Sherlock asks.

“Do you really want to know?”

“A little bit.” You rub the back of your neck. You then explain to Sherlock that the most recent adventure with the Doctor was in Queen Victoria’s time, you also explain that the queen gave everyone nobility… then promptly banished you. Sherlock snickers. “Dame Y/N of the Impala… I’m not letting that slide anytime soon.”

“Why do I tell you anything?” You ask in a teasing manner. Sherlock presses his lips together for a moment.

“I haven’t the foggiest.” Your flatmate replies, causing you to erupt in laughter. It feels good to be back at Baker Street.

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

“That was tedious.” Sherlock says holding a harpoon and he’s also covered in blood, you arch an eyebrow wondering why you didn’t notice him leaving the flat with a harpoon.

“You went on the tube like that?” John asks arching an eyebrow.

“None of the cabs would take me.”

“I found us a case, just do you mind cleaning up first?” You ask in response. Sherlock nods and leaves the room. Once changed Sherlock starts rummaging through his things looking for his emergency stash of cigarettes instead of looking at the case. You sigh and move your computer to the side and stand up and walk to your room. It takes about five minutes to find what you’re looking for. “Here Sherlock, these will settle the craving.” You say handing your flatmate the box of nicotine patches.

“Y/N, you’re a miracle worker.” Sherlock says leaning down slightly and giving you a quick peck on the cheek.

“Thought we agreed with cold turkey.” John says.

“John, I gave him nicotine patches, not cigarettes.” You point out.

Sherlock finds this case about a glowing escaped rabbit, he gets all excited about it. “This is brilliant! Phone Lestrade.”

“And tell him what?” John asks.

“That there’s an escaped rabbit.”

“You got to be joking.”

“It’s either the rabbit or Cluedo.”

“We are never playing that again!”

“Do I even want to know what happened when you two played Cluedo? Because that was a rather quick hell no John.” You point out when Sherlock mentions the board game.

“Sherlock said the victim did it. Which isn’t in the rules…” John counters.

“How long did that argument go on?” Your flatmates don’t answer because the doorbell rings.

“Single ring.” John points out.

“Maximum pressure just under the half second.” Sherlock adds in.

“Can’t be Lestrade he usually walks right in.” You pipe up. You and your flatmates look at each other.

“Client.” The three of you say in unison.

Not long afterward a man is sitting in John’s chair, causing John to sit in your seat, so you have to sit on one from the dining room. You’re literally bored out of your mind at the moment. There’s a documentary on at the moment.

“I was just a kid. It-it was on the moor.” The client says breaking the silence between everyone “It was dark, but I know what I saw. I know what killed my father.” Sherlock asks what happened and the client describes something that reminds you of a hellhound.

You walk over to your bag and grab your dad’s journal and thumb through it looking for his notes on hellhounds.

You and your flatmates create a bet of ten quid… John says wolf, Sherlock says genetic experiment, and you say hellhound.

Sherlock deduces the fact that the client is a smoker and he is in dire need of a cigarette. That last part you weren’t sure if Sherlock was implying he needed a cigarette or if he was just deducing things. When the client says it was a giant hound- Sherlock instantly takes the case.

“I’ll go grab my siblings.” You say as you head down the stairs. “Hey guys, we have a hunt!”

“Already?” Sam asks in response.

“Oh yeah, I’m pretty sure its a hellhound.” You continue down the stairs and walk over to your siblings.

“Pretty sure?” Dean asks mockingly.

“I admit John, Sherlock and I have a bet going on at the moment about this case. I’m either going to lose five quid or gain ten quid.” You say with a shrug. “Anyways John says it’s a wolf; Sherlock says genital experiment, and I say hellhound.”

“How does that involve us?” Sam asks.

“By all means stay behind, if you want to help Sherlock find a missing rabbit.”

“You’re joking about the rabbit right?”

“Nope.” You state. “Sherlock found a message on his website, from a little girl, asking him to help find her pet rabbit.” 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 You, John, and Sherlock share a cab while your siblings share a cab behind you guys. Riding in the back of a jeep with Sherlock driving is an adventure in of itself. What was even more surprising is the fact this jeep can comfortably seat six people.

Sherlock cracks a dumb joke. “Would you stop doing that?” You ask with a chuckle.

“Doing what?” Your flatmate replies looking at you with a lopsided smirk.

“Saying things that make me want to kiss you…”

“Why is that stopping you now? I mean you kissed both of us before.” John comments.

“Yeah well-”

“Not going to happen.” Dean interrupts. “Nobody is kissing anyone, especially Y/N.”

“Overprotective older siblings in the backseat.” You say throwing Dean a bitch face.

Sherlock stops just outside of Baskerville, John marks all the locations on the map. Sherlock points to an area just in front of you. “What’s that?” He asks.

“Minefield?” John asks in response as he puts down his binoculars. “Technically Baskerville is an army base, so I guess they’ve always been keen to keep people out.”

“This is going to be fun.” You sarcastically comment. Once inside the town, you notice all the tourist traps for the hound of Baskerville. “What in the world?” You mutter.

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 “You know I was drinking that right?” You say with a laugh when Sherlock snags your drink. Sherlock cracks a smile. The two of you start talking to this man who claimed to see the hound.

“I called Henry…” John says walking over to the two of you.

“Bet’s off, John. Sorry.” Sherlock says.

“What?” You, John and the person that you and Sherlock was talking to are confused.

“Oh, I bet John and Y/N here fifty quid that you couldn’t prove you’d seen the hound.” John then picks up where Sherlock was going with this. You do as well.

“Yeah, the guys in the pub said you could.” John pipes up. The guy in front of you cracks a smile and points to Sherlock.

“Well, you’re gonna lose your money, mate.” He says.

“Yeah?” Sherlock questions.

“Yeah. I’ve seen it. Only about a month ago, up at the Hollow. It was foggy, mind – couldn’t make much out.” The man then pulls out a picture.

The four of you talk for about ten minutes, then he takes his leave when your siblings walk over to you and your flatmates.

“What’s with that look (nickname)?” Dean asks. You hand him the picture.

“I still say hellhound.” You say fishing out your dad’s journal from your bag. You flip it open to the page you bookmarked, you then set the journal down.

“Oh so that’s where dad’s journal got to, Y/N had it.” Katie comments.

“No one has asked for it back.” You reply. “Anyways, you got to admit this is really similar to a hellhound.”

“Aren’t hellhounds normally invisible though?” You shrug not knowing the answer to that.

“I’m just saying we can’t rule hellhound out just yet.” 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 Sherlock and John have gone off somewhere, you chose to stay behind to figure things out. The only issue, you can’t find your psychic paper anywhere.

“Goddammit Sherlock!” You mutter you pull out your laptop to do the research instead. Your phone goes off, it’s from John. They’re coming to get you for some help on this case. John also admits that you were right about it being a hellhound.

You: let me grab some gear and I’ll meet you and Sherlock outside. John: that works… what do you mean by gear? You: weapons and shit. John: oh.

You shove your phone back into your pocket and grab your weapons bag. “Where are you going?” Katie asks walking into the room.

“John and Sherlock need some help. I’ll be back, hopefully.” You answer. Katie grabs your arm as you start to leave causing you to stop in your tracks.

“(Nickname), you can’t take this thing on alone.”

“I won’t be alone though.”

“Not what I meant. Let me come with you… you’re going to need help if it is a hellhound, and your friends are good people, but they’re not hunters.”

“Katie…”

“No, I’m not letting my kid go hunting for a hellhound by herself.” You eventually fold and say Katie could come with.

Sherlock uses someone as bait, which is very unlike him.

“Sherlock… what the hell is wrong with you?” You ask when you run out of ammo. You tuck your gun into the waistband of your jeans as you’re talking.

“What do you mean?”

“Christo.” You say glaring at the consulting detective. Your ‘friend’ flinches. “I thought so. The real Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t deliberately put someone’s life in danger.” Sherlock’s eyes go black and he sneers.

“What are you going to do?” Without any hesitation, you tackle the detective to the ground. Since you don’t know how to draw a trap, you have to somehow pin Sherlock against something. Maybe it was a good idea for Katie to tag along after all…

“Katie, I need you!” You yell over your shoulder. Your sister comes running. “Sherlock is possessed!” You don’t have anything else on that subject because Katie takes the bull by the horns and starts exorcising Sherlock. You manage to pin the consulting detective against a tree as Katie finishes the exorcism, sending the demon back to hell.

“What happened just now?” Sherlock asks when he is back to his normal self. You’re honestly surprised that he wasn’t rendered unconscious.

“We got into a fight.” You answer helping your friend to his feet. “You also got possessed by a demon.”

“How long was I possessed?” You shrug.

“I know it was after you snagged my drink when we were talking to the witness… I laced my drink with holy water, and you didn’t react to it.” Sherlock simply nods in response. “Going to ask John to make sure that I didn’t give you a concussion.”

You, your sister and Sherlock head over to John.

“What happened to you two?” John asks when he sees the dirt and leaves on yours and Sherlock’s clothes. He also notices the slight bruising on both of your faces.

“A demon possessed Sherlock which resulted in me tackling him to the ground, it quickly turned into a full-on brawl. This is the end result.” You explain.

“I’ll patch you two up at the inn.”

“When you’re patching Sherlock up, can you make sure that he doesn’t have a concussion, he hit his head on a tree.” 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 “What were you two doing?!” Dean asks when you and Katie enter the inn. “One minute you’re here the next minute your gone.”

“Dean relax. We’re fine.” You reply. Dean notices how banged up you are and walks over to you.

“This says otherwise.” Your brother comments, gently rubbing the bruise that is forming on your cheekbone with his thumb. “What happened?”

“Okay I admit, Sherlock and I got a bit banged up… but that was kind of called for.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten so banged up if you drew a trap.” Katie points out.

“Someone was going to get killed, so I didn’t have time to draw a trap. Also, you’re forgetting I had to tackle Sherlock to stop him- do you think a demon is going to willingly walk into a demon’s trap?”

“You have a point.” Your sister mutters.

“Wait… rewind what happened?” Sam asks. You and Katie then have to tell Sam and Dean all that happened within the last hour.

The next day before you, John, and Sherlock leave, Sam tells you to be careful and come back alive.

“I will.” You promise. You then head outside where Sherlock is waiting, John isn’t outside yet.  A reckless thought pops into your head while waiting for the retired army doctor.

“Y/N, what is going on in that head of yours?” Sherlock asks when he notices you’re kind of grinning like an idiot. 

“A stupidly reckless idea.” You reply.

“Which is?” You grab the consulting detective by the collar of his coat and press your lips against his for about two seconds before releasing him.

“Mainly that.” You say in a singsong voice. Ten seconds later John walks outside.

“You two ready?” He asks.

“Yeah, sure.” Sherlock comments, he sounds like he is in a daze. You tell John that you think you broke Sherlock Holmes by kissing him on the lips.

“That would do it.”John comments with a laugh. 

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

The three of you split up. John one way, Sherlock the other, and you go a different way. After a few hours, you find John in the cemetery looking at a war memorial. “John?” You ask as you enter the graveyard.

“Hey Y/N.” John says.

“Is something wrong?”

“What makes you ask?”

“You’re standing in the middle of a cemetery looking at a war memorial.” John stays quiet. You gently place a hand on the retired army doctor’s shoulder. John sadly smiles at you as Sherlock walks into the cemetery. He also subtly passes you the five quid he owes you for winning the bet the three of you made before leaving for Baskerville.

“No-no-no, it was more than that, John. It was doubt. I felt doubt. I’ve always been able to trust my senses, the evidence of my own eyes, until last night.” Sherlock explains to John when John tries to explain to Sherlock that he felt fear. “I also felt trapped in my own head.”

“It’s hard to believe some of the things you see Sherlock.” You explain. “I’ve been hunting the supernatural since I was a kid, but I still get surprised and I don’t want to believe what I see.” Sherlock reluctantly nods. The three of you head back to town where Lestrade is waiting for you, Sherlock isn’t amused to see Scotland Yard. John on the other hand is.

“Greg!” John says as Lestrade removes his sunglasses.

“Hullo John and Y/N.” Lestrade replies. “I heard you were in the area. What are you three up to? Does it involve this hound of hell thing that’s on the telly?”

“Hound of hell that’s one way how to put it. Normally it’s hellhound or a demon dog.” You say sitting down next to him. “I know my siblings and I are after it- I’m not sure about Sherlock and John though.”

“Wait, you have siblings?” Out of the corner of eye, you see your bothers basically having a catfight over something. You turn on your bar stool to face them. You’re about to get out of your seat to break them apart but Katie gets there first.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t.” You comment.

“I’m waiting for an explanation, Inspector.” Sherlock says, interrupting your conversation with the DI. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve told you: I’m on holiday.” Lestrade replies.

“You’re brown as a nut. You’re clearly just back from your ‘holidays’.”

“Yeah, well I fancied another one.”

“Oh, this is Mycroft, isn’t it?” Sherlock spits out his brother’s name like it tastes disgusting.

“No, look…” Lestrade tries to explain but Sherlock cuts him off.

“Of course it is! One mention of Baskerville and he sends down my handler to… to spy on me incognito. Is that why you’re calling yourself Greg?”

“That’s his name.” John calmly states.

“It is?” The consulting detective asks sounding confused and mildly surprised.

“Yes- if you’d ever bothered to find out. Look, I’m not your handler…” The chief inspector retorts as he turns away from Sherlock to pick up his drink. “And I don’t just do what your brother tells me.” You don’t hear the rest of the conversation because get out of your seat and walk over to your siblings

“Who was the person you were talking with?” Katie asks. You forget, no one in your family has done a case with you, John, and Sherlock before now- so they don’t know who Lestrade is.

“That’s Lestrade.” You reply. “He’s pretty much the only person from Scotland Yard that Sherlock will work with.”

“What do you mean?”

“A lot of people at Scotland Yard calls Sherlock a freak.”

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

It turns out that most of the legends about the hound of Baskerville was just a prank. However, there is that small detail of people getting ripped to shreds by a large black dog with red eyes. You, your siblings, and John find yourselves in a warehouse with a hellhound, and Sherlock is nowhere to be found. You create a salt ring around John.

“Stay in the salt ring. It will keep you safe.” You tell your friend.

“What about you?” He asks, looking worried.

“This isn’t my first rodeo.” With that, you run off looking for your siblings or the hound. You run into Katie first.

“Hound.” Your sister says. You spin on your heel, then you and Katie both empty your clips shooting the hellhound. Ten more gunshots ring out this time from behind the hound. The hound drops dead. At least one of the bullets was lethal.

“You leave my kid sisters alone… bitch.” Dean says as he puts his gun in the waistband of his jeans. “You girls alright?”

“For the moment.” Katie replies. “Where’s John and Sam?”

“John is currently out of harm’s way in a salt ring.” You reply. “No idea where Sam went.”

“I’m right here.” Sam says walking up behind you scaring the living daylights out of you. You punch your brother in the bicep before you go get John.

“Is it dead?” John ask when you walk over to him.

“Yup.” You reply. “Let’s get out of here.”

“No arguments there.” John pauses as you break the salt circle and make it look like a spill. He just shrugs and follows you out of the warehouse. The next day or so John is just as shaken as Sherlock was when he first encountered the hound.

“You’re going to be a little bit on edge for awhile John.” You tell him.

“How do you know?” Your friend asks in response.

“Because it happened to me as well as my siblings.”

Now when John gets a call about the original client that gave Sherlock the case, you, John, Sherlock and Lestrade get up and go to find him.

When this other hellhound comes out of the fog you realize you’re weaponless and by the looks of things, your throat is about to get ripped out. You back up against a tree cursing yourself for being so stupid. “Y/N, whatever you’re seeing isn’t real.” Someone yells over the commotion. The beast in front of you comes closer and somehow manages to remove a noticeable sized chunk out of your arm.

“Excuse my language, but if this thing isn’t fucking real, how the fuck did it manage to take a fucking chunk out of my god damned arm?!” You snap, holding your uninjured hand against the wound trying to slow the blood escaping from your injury.

“You’re imagining it!” The voice yells, distracting you from the blood. It’s more than likely Sherlock going off the tone of voice. “None of this is real!”

“Bull-fucking-shit!” Sherlock and John runs over to you when the fog clears.

“Can I see your arm?” John asks. You nod and move your hand away from the wound. He winces when he sees that unfortunately, your injury wasn’t a hallucination.

“Okay… maybe you weren’t imagining it.” Sherlock says. You throw him a Winchester bitch face.

“No fucking shit, Sherlock.” You retort.

“Wow, you swearing like a drunken sailor.” Lestrade says. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say more than bitch.”

“Yeah well I normally don’t swear in front my friends… John and Sherlock are the exceptions.” You wince when John wraps a handkerchief around your arm to slow the blood flow.

“I’ll stitch you up when we get back to the inn.” John states.

“What happened to you?” Sam asks when John temporarily leaves the room to grab his first aid kit.

“I have no idea but something took a decent sized chunk out of my arm.” You answer. “Which fucking hurt.”

“Looks like it.” John gets back before he starts treating your injury he gives you some painkillers.

“Hey, at least I got hit on my arm instead of the side.” You joke, trying to ignore the needle and thread going into your arm.

“That’s true.” John chuckles. “I still can’t believe Sherlock wore nothing except a sheet to Buckingham Palace.”

“Didn’t Mycroft tell us to act like adults?” John nods in response. “How did you word it- I doubt it, he forgets his pants, I blog about it and I’m the queen of sass or something.”

“Close enough.”

“And the painkillers just kicked in… what did you give me John, morphine?” You ask when the painkillers kick in, you asked mainly because whatever John gave you made you feel like you were either drunk or stoned.

“Morphine would take to long to get into your system Y/N. I gave you a painkiller that is related to morphine just faster acting.” John answers with a shrug. He finishes patching you up. Since you’re currently a little bit high, one of your siblings helps you get to bed and you’re out like a light. 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 “Why the hell did you give me such a potent painkiller John?” You ask, the next day on the way back to Baker Street.

“First fast acting one I had.” John replies. You groan. The painkillers were wearing off and you felt terrible.

“Sometimes I really hate you, John.” You lean your head back against the headrest. John chuckles.

“You got to admit, you were pretty funny with that painkiller in your system sis.” Sam points out.

“Please tell me you didn’t take a video.” You mutter.

“I didn't… Dean did though.”

“I’m going to kick both of your asses so hard it won’t be funny.”

“Whatever you say kiddo.”

→ ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → ← → @the-third-winchester-warrior @flannels-and-rocksalt @always-keep-writing-spn @winchesters-favorite-girl @caroldanverseinatardis @spnkisum @thewinsisterchronicles @simply-wins-little-sis @moose-and-sqruille-lover @thewinsister @mrspadackles @spnsisimagines @percussiongirl2017

[thesolitaryhobbyist]

Yuukoku no Moriarty highlights/comments, chapters 4 - 10

Selective, but I tried to include important points. Doesn’t detail the resolutions of the actual heists/crimes. Minor/vague spoilers unmarked, a few more significant spoilers in a separate section at the end.

Chapter 4: The Case of the Noble Kidnapping

Opium, and the military.

Unspecified bad blood between Albert and Moran.

(Maybe Moran being ex-military might be relevant?)

William is kidnapped.

William’s catchphrase really seems to be “I will hand down your punishment!”, more or less.

MI6.

I won’t say more for 2 reasons: 1. I didn’t seriously try to understand all the details (sorry, I’ve misunderstood Albert enough); and 2. The entire plot hinges on one reveal, which I’ll mention below.

Chapter 5: The ‘Noahtic’, Act 1

‘Noahtic’ is the name of a cruise ship.

How William plans to go from Durham’s local hero to London’s Napoleon of Crime, a rough summary:

[interior, Moriarty London residence, a meeting between the Moriarty brothers, and Fred and Moran]

William: ‘The [class] system can’t be changed immediately. But what we can do is plunge London into the depths of hell. Turn it into a city of crime. [...] Crime isn’t the end, it’s the means. The system can’t be changed immediately. But people’s hearts, they change in an instant. People are mobilised by their feelings, you must have understood that from Durham. What hits people the hardest - that’s death. [...] We’ll direct a production and decorate the set to allow death to come to the forefront [...] People’s...the country’s eyes will be opened. [...] The time has come for the curtains to rise. If this ‘play’ on this big stage succeeds, we can accomplish anything.’

Albert: Oh, and I’m in MI6, so I can pull strings.

William: Let’s start by exposing this one Earl’s misdeeds.

(So that’s why these chapter titles use ‘act’ in them. And also probably the/an inspiration for the name ‘William’, as in Shakespeare.)

Holmes and William have a deduction-off on the Noahtic:

Holmes: I deduce you’re a mathematician! I saw you staring at the golden ratio in the staircase!

William points out what Holmes does is technically abduction, then goes on: ‘You play violin, but you aren’t a performer. Moreover, you excel at physical combat. And if I may, you also have an interest in scientific experiments, and are a bit reliant on drugs. It’s obvious you’re an Oxbridge alumnus (!), yet you speak with a cockney accent (!!). That must be because you’re proud of your roots, particularly on your mother’s side (!!!)...am I right?’

Holmes: HAHAHAHA srsly, ur hilarious

(Bless this cockney Holmes.)

Chapter 6: The ‘Noahtic’, Act 2

At the Moriarty London residence:

Moran: ‘Cleaning up after a big operation like this is tough, eh, Fred? Maybe using civilian lives bothers you? But “death is what moves people most”, isn’t it? I'm telling you, if I was Enders’ [the killer on the Noahtic] target instead of that man, I’d have willingly given my life. If William’s plan needed me to sacrifice my life, I’d do it any time. You would, too, right, Fred?’

Fred: ‘............got it.’

(Yeah...Fred Porlock.)

Holmes: 'When you eliminate the [...]' Blah blah, you know the drill.

I didn’t catch if there was a specific reason he was on the cruise, though.

Chapter 7: A Study in ‘S’, Act 1

When you want to avenge your fiancee’s death, who you gonna call?

On the coach ride back from that consultation, Moran offers to kill Holmes "any time", but William turns him down.

(He and ACD canon Moran need to have a chat about killing Holmes...)

Holmes is theatrical and impish, and speaks quite casually.

Mrs Hudson yells at Holmes in the street to pay rent, while he’s carrying a bag of apples, and he tries to give her an apple as ‘payment’. They fight in the street. The public is entertained.

Stamford passes by. Holmes asks to borrow money from him, but he suggests finding a flatmate.

Mrs Hudson rejects three would-be flatmates before Watson shows up.

Watson’s moustache was sacrificed to the bishounen character design cause, sadly.

When Watson first enters 221B, Holmes is ‘dead’.

I present to you:

Goth jewellery Holmes.

That woman is Mrs Hudson (well, Hudson-san). She’s “eternally 17″, according to herself, but “about thrice that”, according to Holmes.

Watson tries to smooth-talk Mrs Hudson when she’s angry at Holmes for meeting her at a seedy pub, instead of a restaurant, to introduce her to Watson. (Spoiler about this at the end.)

She’s not impressed, and thinks he’s some kind of womanizer.

When Mrs Hudson complains about Holmes’ abilities being ‘wasted’, Holmes excuses himself to go to the toilet.

Then Mrs Hudson tells Watson that Holmes worries her a lot, and because he’s like a kid, she doesn’t want him to live with just anyone.

Watson smiles and points out that she worries about him “like family”.

Holmes and Watson team up to beat up the man who harassed and groped Mrs Hudson.

After that, Mrs Hudson gives Watson her approval.

Enoch J. Drebber is an Earl here.

Holmes is arrested because Earl Drebber ‘wrote’ “Sherlock” in blood on the floor of the room he was killed in.

(Because dying messages are totally a thing, eh? [insert Ace Attorney joke here])

Holmes and Watson address each other using given names from the get-go. Just how things work in this manga, apparently. The Yard still address Holmes as ‘Holmes’, though.

Volume 2 omake, a summary

“William’s room / No entry! / Except Lewis”

Lewis wants to help with William’s plans, but William always says it’s fine, Lewis, it’s too dangerous for you.

Internally he’s like: brother, that hurts!

One day, he knocks over William’s diary while cleaning his room.

The angel on his shoulder (yes, this trope is used) is like: reading other people’s diaries is wrong!

The devil is like: at that rate, finding another way to be useful is wrong! and dude, we’re villains!

That’s fair enough, so Lewis reads it.

That night... and the next night, and the next night... he makes stargazy pie for dinner, with increasing numbers of fish.

Because William wrote in his diary that Lewis’ stargazy pie was delicious, and he hoped he would make it again.

Everyone loves it. Except Moran, who yells that he’s sick of it. No one cares.

(But the real question: if the diary isn’t a throwaway plot device, is there any other juicy info in there? Or is it just full of food reviews?)

(I’m not sure which I’d prefer.)

(And it’s not impossible William planted the diary.)

Chapter 8: A Study in ‘S’, Act 2

Meanwhile, in Utah...

Kidding, nobody in this is from Utah. Earl Drebber is from Wales.

Lestrade and Gregson! Lestrade is much more cooperative than Gregson. (Spoiler at the end.)

Watson is quick to trust Holmes and believe in his innocence.

The elaborateness of the crime really brings Holmes back to that Noahtic case...

Baker Street Irregulars!

Fred ninja-jumps up to the rooftops in an alleyway.

Chapter 9: A Study in ‘S’, Act 3

That entire confrontation between Jefferson Hope, Holmes, and Watson is pretty great. (Spoilers at the end.)

Holmes makes a pun on Jefferson Hope’s name.

Holmes: I don’t care about credit, just write “Holmes is amazing!” in your [Watson’s] diary.

It’s published. Holmes is not amused.

Watson: ‘Even when the whole world hates you [Holmes], I alone will be on your side!’

(Gee, that’s not foreboding at all.)

Watson makes Holmes wear The Outfit to meet the press outside 221B. Holmes is not amused.

Holmes passed his ‘audition’ as the ‘main character’ in William’s play, though he doesn’t know it yet...

Chapter 10: The Hunting of the Baskervilles, Act 1

WTF, Sir Charles Baskerville?

He and some other nobles abduct children, then hunt/abuse/mutilate them, like something straight out of Kuroshitsuji. And he has a ‘trophy room’.

I personally don’t find the panels too gory, but stuff does happen on-page.

Moran immediately cancels his plans for the night - i.e., sleeping with one of the women he bragged to at the pub about his new job as a ‘butler’ - so he could accompany Fred to report the Baskerville tip-off to William.

Fred is reluctant to go because it’s late and the abductors come early in the morning, so there might not be time. Moran is like naaah don’t be a coward, let’s run for it, William looks at the big picture, but I know he doesn’t ignore suffering when it’s in front of him.

(Moran backstory, when?)

And about that job - Moran shirks work when Lewis and William aren’t around, and Fred covers for him.

And Moran says though Fred seems distant from William, he and Fred have a special connection to each other.

(Now I can’t help but see Fred’s attitude towards Moran as some kind of rebellious younger brother thing and I cannot wait for backstabbing to happen outside the omake.)

Lewis still wants in on the action, and finally confronts William after Moran gives him a ‘but you’re brothers, tell him how you feel!’ pep talk.

William: oh nooo, I only wanted to protect you, Lewis, but I didn’t consider your feelings, only my ego! From now on, I’ll let you in on the action, too, just like old times!

Other unsolicited comments:

Lady in the vol. 1 colour spread of the Moriarty comrades’ debut album photoshoot: please don’t be Irene Adler, please be someone else, please.

Judging by the page one literal cliffhanger, this won’t be how it goes, but consider: instead of baritsu-ing William over Reichenbach, Holmes shows up late and stabs him with a broken oar. (...This duel.)

William is 24/7 cool, even when he was abducted in chapter 4. The only times he’s really cracked so far were the chapter 1 page one cliffhanger, and his conversation with Lewis in chapter 10. Please crack more, William.

Chapter 4 SPOILER

The kidnapping was planned so Albert could bust some opium smugglers, who were the kidnappers.

Chapter 7 SPOILER

When he went ‘to the toilet’, Holmes gave that man a message ‘from’ Mrs Hudson, to get him to approach her.

‘She’ wrote that she liked a certain kind of role-play... 

Because Holmes thought Mrs Hudson would ask Watson to be his flatmate if she saw that he’s a “gentleman brimming with a sense of justice”.

And Watson really is, so he's pissed when Holmes tells him 

But his tirade is cut short because the Yard comes.

Chapter 8 SPOILER

Lestrade, who's driving the Yard’s coach (uhh, whatever the right term is), swerves so the doors open and Holmes and Watson can escape. When Gregson demands an explanation, Lestrade claims a cat suddenly jumped onto the path ahead.

Chapter 9 SPOILER

Jefferson Hope asks Holmes to kill him. If he does, Fred, who’s watching from a rooftop, will tell him about the criminal mastermind who advised Hope.

Holmes points his gun at him.

Watson: nooo, there has to be another way! *points his gun at Holmes*

Holmes shoots.

...at the ground.

Holmes: haha what do you take me for? I don’t want to be told the answers. I’ll find them on my own. *handcuffs Hope*

Watson: *tears of joy*

After the Moriarty crew pass the press mob outside 221B, there in response to the news of Hope’s arrest, Lewis says there was a ‘60% chance’ Holmes would have killed Hope.

William says the whole thing was a test of Holmes’ character. The gist of the conversation is that Holmes will be of use in exposing the upper classes’ sins.

[wordsablaze]

#16: Facts and Fiascos

Match of Magic What if destiny chose soulmates through literal aesthetic matches? What if education fused with impossibility and reality faded away? Dan and Phil must unite, work together and help each other live the best of all the worlds they can…

(Dan POV)

I copy out the main points just as Mr Prong rubs them off and sighs, “The test of last year’s subjects will be next Thursday. I’d hope you all remember what you’ve probably ignored over the course of summer and the half term so far.”

Mariah groans, “I’m going to fail.”

“You’ve got Tulip.”

“Guys, give me some credit. She’s hard work.” Tulip laughs, the three of us packing up.

Since we’ve moved up a year, we don’t have all our lessons together, my next one being French. The two of them head to their Religious Studies lesson, luckily having it together so they can chat and work in peace. Not that it really matters for them because they’re good at being liked by people. I don’t know anyone in my French class except Ian but he doesn’t count because he’s such a bully.

“So, you matched?” said boy asks me as he bumps into my shoulder.

“Yes.” I reply, trying to stay neutral.

Ian scowls at me, “Did you force it?”

I blink, “No, you can’t do that.”

“You must have brainwashed him.” Ian states, apparently content with that solution.

I roll my eyes but avoid an argument as we all enter the classroom, then groan at the sight of a new seating plan up on the board. Thankfully, I’m sat near the centre of the room so I won’t constantly be in the teacher’s line of sight. She only makes us introduce ourselves and play petty games as a way of recapping the last three years’ worth of vocabulary.

Having almost fallen asleep through the hour of monotonous repetition, I gladly escape the room as soon as possible when she’s done with our lesson. Meeting with the rest of my group for the half an hour break we get, the seven of us squash ourselves onto a bench.

Alonso is the first to complain, “What’s with the tedious ice-breakers?”

“I know, right? They’re the worst thing.” Lilith agrees, “But guess what?”

“What?” Chris asks.

Lilith groans, “You’ve got to guess!”

“You got detention again? Or a warning? Or you talked back to another boring teacher?” Carter asks.

Lilith glares at him, then looks to the rest of us, “I’m not taking suggestions from Carter. The rest of you?”

“You aced a quiz?” Tulip asks, “Or you found out another one of last year’s exam results.”

Lilith rolls her eyes impatiently, “You’re not allowed to guess either. Guys?!”

“You got a boyfriend?” Mariah asks, then gasps as Lilith scowls darkly.

“I am no longer asking any of you!” she exclaims, huffing.

I’d laugh but I haven’t seen her this irked for ages so I simply cough, “Just tell us Lil.”

“Fine!” she grins suddenly, her eyes lighting up to an intense shade of blue, “I’ve met my match!”

Mariah and Tulip shriek and envelop her in hugs as the rest of us cheer, clapping her on the back in congratulations.

“When?” I ask.

“Five months ago. But I only met her two months ago and I wanted to be sure before telling anyone.”

“You could have told us of the possibility!” Mariah complains, sighing.

Five months is a long time to keep something like this hidden, and for someone like Laia, that’s equivalent to centuries. She’s good at keeping the secrets she needs to when it’s important but details of her own life aren’t usually hidden from us because she finds it helpful to tell someone.

“Who is it?” Chris asks, grinning.

“Lesley. She’s so great!”

“When can we meet her?” I ask, seeing Lilith’s extreme excitement.

“I don’t know. Tomorrow, after school?”

“Why not today?” Mariah asks, apparently far too curious to wait even thirty hours for a sighting of this mysterious Lesley. Knowing Mariah, she’ll try and stalk poor Lesley if there isn’t another option.

“She’s got a fencing match.” Lilith explains, getting an appreciative whistle from Chris and Carter, both of them having gone through a fencing phase in the past.

“You’re going to watch her play?” Alonso asks, already guessing the answer.

Lilith grins widely, “Yeah, but my mum says she has to accompany me because she doesn’t know much about Lesley yet.”

I laugh, “Surely you didn’t expect anything else?”

“Oh, shut up Dan.” She chuckles anyway, laughing.

I raise an eyebrow but shrug, just as the bell goes. Groaning, we all prise ourselves off the bench and head to our lessons. I’ve got food technology so I head to the technology block, nodding a goodbye to the others.

Surreptitiously slipping into the line, I pile into my seat along with everyone else, Miss Klutun briefly warning us of possible dangers before we start to make our chocolate nests. They’re more or less an Easter food but we need to spend Easter focusing on the harder, more strenuous cooking rather than making nice things. As we get started, the room explodes into soft chatter, either a reminiscence of holiday gossip or frantic conferring over the ingredients.

Chyna purposely elbows a girl whose name I don’t know as she saunters past and sends the butter that she was picking up flying out of her hands. I swear under my breath as it lands on my head and slides down my face.

Miss Klutun sighs, “Daniel, go fix your head; Natalie, clean up the counter; and Chyna, detention tomorrow lunchtime.”

Apparently Miss Klutun does not tolerate anything below impeccable tolerance in her classroom.

Unfortunately this means I have to go and wash my hair out, something that I know how to do because of my sibling but that I’m not necessarily a huge fan of doing.

Speed-walking to the nearest toilets, I quickly wash out my fringe, groaning and giving up when it reaches the maximum level of curl.

“Stupid butter. Stupid Chyna. Stupid Miss Klutun.” I mutter as I walk back through the empty corridors, then school my expression into one of neutrality as I enter the classroom again.

Obviously, nobody pays that much to attention to me leaving or coming back into the classroom so I can carry on with my chocolate nests. Having put the base and main body of it into the fridge as I made the top layer, I manage to finish them perfectly in time, washing up and all included.

Miss Klutun beams at me, “Well done lad.”

“Dude, those look epic. Trade you?” Harry asks, but once glance at his evidently rushed muffins has me shaking my head and coming up with an excuse.

“Sorry, just enough for the fam.”

“Whatever.” He grins anyway, moving ahead to see Miss Klutun, hopefully about improving his skills.

I place my little nests into the box I brought after refining anything that needed to be, at which point Miss Klutun dismisses us. I precariously balance my folder and pencil case on top of the box, managing to get out of the door before Chyna crashes into me.

I grit my teeth and inwardly groan as everything on top of my folder falls. I wait for her shoes to tap up the stairs before opening my eyes and going to reach down so I can pick up my folders.

But I never get to.

My own shocked face stares back at me through the deepest oceanic eyes on the planet, easily beating the seven seas. A buzzed glow spreads inside of me as I smile widely.

“Hi.” Phil beams as he slips the fallen papers back into my tech folder.

“Hello.” I reply, my mood inexplicably lifted.

Phil’s eyes light up as he glances at the nests but he doesn’t say anything, apparently too polite; I shake my head at him.

“Want to try? You know, as a tester to make sure they’re acceptable.”

I open the lid and he nods sheepishly, “Yeah, thanks Dan.”

He picks one out, takes a small bite, and stares at me while his eyes widen, “They’re amazing!”

“Thanks.” I smile, my face flushing.

Phil smiles and breaks the nest into half, going to hand me the larger half before then realising I can’t take it without dropping something.

Get ready for the aeroplane.

I laugh, then bite into the chocolate nest he’s holding in front of my mouth. The taste of chocolate so rich it’s almost toxic pleasantly overwhelms me for a second before I remember that swallowing is a vital part of digestion.

Phil lets me take the rest of it before grinning, “You’re a great baker.”

There’s not technically any baking involved.

“Eh.” He shrugs comically, making me laugh. I quickly pack my folder and the box away, both of us heading to the swings the long way round. I frown as something dawns on me.

“How’d you know what lesson I had?” I inquire.

He chuckles, “A little birdie told me.”

“The bird whisperer…” I smirk and he nods.

“Yup, that’s it. I am one with the natural world…” he declares, jumping and spinning as he says this, looking so naturally graceful I have to take a moment to recover.

“Phil?” I almost groan, genuinely curious. I don’t make a sarcastic comment in case I offend him, which is not something I plan on doing to someone I’ve looked to as an inspirational beacon of happiness.

He simply laughs, “Lesley told me you told Laia Miss Klutun would let you out to lunch late so I made my deductions.”

“You know Lesley?” I ask, baffled.

“Yeah, she’s in my Psychology, but the year above.”

Year thirteen then. The year where it’s statistically proven matches are hard to find as everyone decides to dye their hair or realises they need contacts. No wonder Laia waited until she was sure before telling us. I realise I may have let the silence stretch too long and look back at Phil, who’s still staring at me with a knowing smile.

“I know Laia, she only just told us Lesley was her match.”

“Oh, nice.” Phil beams, “Mutual friends.”

“More like mutual leverage.” I grin and he laughs, a bright laddered sound that makes me smile to the core. The two of us flop onto the swings, intermittently swaying back and forth. I pull my sleeves over my hands as I debate on whether or not to tell him about my AmazingPhil obsession.

“-okay?”

“What?” I ask, bemused, “Sorry, what?”

“Dan!” he shakes his head, “I asked if you’d like to hang out sometime?”

“Yes!”

His eyes light up as he grins.

“No.”

His face falls as he frowns.

“Wait.”

He raises an eyebrow, still smiling.

If anyone could be arrested for smiling too much, it would be him. Except there’s no way I’d ever let him go to prison.

I shake my head, “I do; I’d like to hang out sometime. Without a doubt, yes. I meant that there’s something I need to tell you first.”

“Okay.” Phil smiles, the shine returning to his eyes as small wrinkles appear in the corners.

“Um, so, I spend a lot of time on the computer.”

“That’s okay, me too.” He stops swinging as I stay silent, “Dan?”

“I, uh, also happen to have watched YouTube and, uh…”

“Dan? Go ahead, what’s up?”

I swallow my hesitation and shut my eyes for a millisecond to steady myself, then turn to Phil, who’s still patiently waiting like an undiscovered angel. Perhaps without the halo and typical white attire.

“Iabsolutelyloveyourchannelandit'sactuallylegitamazing.” I blurt, coughing.

Phil tilts his head to the side as he tries to decipher this, “Dan, could you possible slow that down?”

“I don't…”

Iabsolutelyloveyourchannelandit'sactuallylegitamazing!

You’re thinking just as fast as you were talking. I’m only getting ‘solute’, 'land’ and 'zing’

I absolutely love your channel and it’s actually legit amazing…Phil.

I almost cringe but I can’t take my thoughts back. I can’t retrieve what I’ve thought. What I’ve thought for so long and what I’ll never stop thinking no matter wha-

“Dan!” Phil exclaims, snapping me out of my trance, then stops to consider what I’ve told him, his eyes flickering back and forth as he registers what I’m saying before he smiles a beautiful half-smile, “Since how long?”

The knowledge that he stopped to make sure I was alright before trying to figure out his puzzling thoughts makes me grin so hard that my cheeks hurt.

Danisnotonfire

It seems to dawn on him who I am and his endless eyes widen so much I fear for their safety. He stays alarmingly still for the longest time and I start to panic because he’s barely breathing and I’d rather not he dies due to me watching his videos.

Phil?!

Oh. My. Glob.

Phil?

Sorry. You’ve watched my videos?

“Yeah, and they’re the best thing to ever exist.” I exclaim softly, more relieved than anything that he’s still alive and talking, having recovered from his shock.

“What about me?” he asks quietly.

I gasp, turning to him in alarm, about to launch into the explanation that they’re only amazing because he’s in them, but he just grins and shakes his head, “I know, I get you. Do you like my videos for real then?”

“Yeah. I thought that was pretty obvious?” I grin, referring to the chats and messages we’ve exchanged before.

He nods slowly, then stands up.

Not knowing what he’s doing, I stand up as well. He turns to me with a soft smile on his face before suddenly his arms are around my shoulders and he’s leaning down ever so slightly as I’m enveloped in the incredible, protective bubble of pure Phil.

His hands brushing my back, my arms returning the favour, and his head next to mine with the scent of marshmallow, spice and metallic watermelon along with an unknown comforting warmth, light up the fire in my soul, causing a huge smile to arise on my face.

I hug Phil back, the two of us locked in an embrace of promises, gratitude and acknowledgment until we both have to shift from the pins and needles in the soles of our feet. I can’t differentiate between me and Phil as we untangle, my fingers interlocking with Phil’s like they were designed to fulfil this one act.

“Thanks for watching, Dan.” Phil murmurs, his bright smile permanently residing on his face.

“Thanks for giving me something to watch.” I reply without filtering it.

Phil’s bright laugh assures me I’ve not said something totally ludicrous and I grin, “So, you were talking calling about me yesterday?”

Phil blanches for a moment, then looks at the floor when his face floods with colour in the most adorable way ever, “I hadn’t realised you watched that.”

“I have, and I loved it.”

“I…” his response fizzles out but his smile doesn’t falter.

You don’t know how relieved I am!

I definitely do! What if you’d freaked out that I already know you?!

I’m not going to freak out, don’t worry. I think I’m past that.

Thanks.

“Oi, freaks!” I hear a cold, irritating voice yell.

Phil grimaces at the same time as me, both of us turning to see Will and Luke, the most nefarious matched pair we know in school.

This can’t be good.

like/reblog but don’t repost, thanks!