#heard about how damn dirty they do the whole Sherlock and Moriarty thing and I weep like. y’all built this conflict up for four years irl

[ziracona]

FGO is falling behind in so many areas of the game it's not even funny. I think because the initial outfits were all free they were too hesitant to make any paid ones or didn't know how to differentiate them enough to explain a price tag that we're just stuck with having a handful once in a blue moon. And yeah I loved the Valentines gift, the bullet is so practical and sweet, just wish his story was longer. Interesting observation about the CE outfit, I didn't notice it looked similar.

Frfr. I’ve only heard about some of it, but so many arcs since LB1 have totally missed the tragedy and dynamics that made the premise good. :’-] [the foreign god reveal imo was just super weird and weirdly handled too, as far as like, cohesion and emotion/pacing]. Just as far as mechanics go yeah!! Like, I’m FTP (except on guaranteed NY summons once a year), but /I’d/ shell out 5, even 15 bucks for an outfit once in a while if it slapped enough. I very much know I’m not alone.

The new character adding makes sense and to a degree must happen, but I don’t think that necessitates any kind of a lack of returning to older ones. Some of the minor characters, despite having virtually no time in the story (Jekyl for instance) are wildly popular! It’s like Pokemon. Every single heroic spirit has at least one person who is obsessed with and adores them. I think seasonal events could stand to do something with this—like the board game one did a great job giving Emiya Alter more character development and love as a supporting cast member, than all of SERAPH did. They (or some of their writers) absolutely can, and it’s a huge hit with fans any time they do. I wish they put more into, even briefly, showcasing minor characters not in just a ‘and they’re here too’ way but a sincerely ‘we’re going to give them time to talk about their struggles or beliefs or relationships to others in a meaningful way, even if it’s for only five minutes’ way. They just need to let Higashide write more arcs… TuT

[magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics]

The Reichenbach Fall - Request

Requested by anon: *Can’t load the ask box*

Summary: John and reader are dating, but she is cheating on him with Sherlock. John catches them and the consequences are severe.

Pairing: John x reader x Sherlock

Word count: 3.700+

*This is mainly focused on John and Sherlock.

Warnings: ANGST, ANGST, ANGST. Spoilers from the Reichenbach Fall (also, you would have to watch it to understand). 

A/N: I know this is supposed to be a reader thing, but in all honesty, I think John would be more affected by Sherlock than by Reader, therefore I focused mostly on them for this because “Friends before girls” right? 

Enjoy!

His lips were on her neck, and his hands were on her hips. They were staking on a room, across from a suspect’s place, trying to make it as quiet as possible rather than focusing on the job. John couldn’t know, he must not find out because it was wrong but they couldn’t stop.

It was behind the glances they shared behind his back or the lingering touches when they walked across the crime scenes. It was perhaps under those all-nighters when they made the proper research before going after the criminal.

They were supposed to be spying on the suspect, but it was impossible for them not to keep their hands for themselves whenever the other one was around. Therefore, while John entered the suspect’s flat, Sherlock and (Y/N) got distracted from doing their job.

A wall, the floor, even a squeaky chair was perfect as long as they were together. It was a relationship guided by raw passion and nothing else, and it was so intense that they both betrayed the man they loved just to be with each other.

John was too good for them, and they knew it, but when their lips met the first time they were gone forever.

It had been during Christmas when they decided to do a bit of research after the party. Guided by the alcohol and the romantic aura of the mistletoes, their lips found their way to the others, crashing in a passionate kiss that led to more and more. The morning after they tried to ignore, to forget, but such pleasure is hard to find and so their adventure began.

They wanted to tell John, it was the least they could do. But they loved him too much to hurt him like that. Instead, they continued hiding, sharing that mortal secret until John got tired of (Y/N) and decided to leave her.

Sherlock had never felt guilty before, but such feeling invaded his whole body when, months after, John confessed to being looking for engagement rings. The detective had to fake a smile and pretend that it hurt him to know that she, the woman he had learned to love in secret, was just the ideal for John, his best friend.

John was too good, too kind, and too precious. His great heart and loving smile deserved better than the two rotten souls he was damned to live with. If he only knew that (Y/N) didn’t feel the same anymore…

She loved him still but said love wasn’t nearly as strong as it was in the beginning. She didn’t love Sherlock like she had loved John, but it was only because she wouldn’t allow herself to feel such thing for the detective.

They had tried to stop in the past. Being away from each other was fatal for them. The heat between them, the wetness of their lips together, the sweat all over their skin, their hearts beating together… It was all too much to forget.

And now, while John risked his life, they were together, sinning once again. Careless, shameful and unable to stop; they were panting, sweating and ignoring the fact that John was in danger at that precise moment; less to say, they didn’t know he was about to find them.

Their minds had been absorbed in each other’s body, focused solely on the eyes of one another while they made love once again.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?” Watson roared as he entered the room. His head was bleeding and his clothes were dirty. Sherlock and (Y/N) pulled away instantly, as they searched for any piece of clothing to cover the necessary.

“John, I can explain.” She rushed to say.

“Alright,” Watson said, pretending to be calm, “tell me. Explain why you, my girlfriend, is banging my best mate; or why you, my best mate, is banging my girlfriend.”

“It was an accident,” Sherlock swore.

“You don’t accidentally slip your… inside her… JUST TELL ME.” John insisted.

“It started during Christmas, after the…” (Y/N) started but John interrupted.

“I don’t want to know why this love affair started, I want to know why.” John fumed, and (Y/N) could see tears starting to form in his eyes. “Why, (Y/N)? Am I not good enough for you? Sherlock, haven’t I been a good friend? Why betray me like that.”

“John, I’m so sorry…” Sherlock apologized.

“WHY DID YOU DO IT, SHERLOCK?”

“I don’t have a good answer,” Sherlock whispered.

“(Y/N), do you mind answering for him? Since you two are so united…” John pouted, trying to hold back the tears.

“I was drunk, John.” She whined.

“Are you drunk now, (Y/N)?” John cried, “Are you drunk now or any of the past times? How many times have you…? For how long?”

“Christmas… She said it before if you would’ve listened…” Sherlock started.

“Don’t do it, Sherlock. Don’t try to make me look like a fool.” John commanded, “You are not even wearing any pants!”

“It wouldn’t be the first time and yet…”

“And yet you two have been cheating on me and… And you knew I was going to propose, Sherlock!” Finally, a tear slipped down John’s cheeks as his voice became thin and crooked. “You knew I already had the ring, you’ve known from the moment I chose to do it… And yet, you didn’t tell me.”

“Would things be any different?” Sherlock inquired sadly.

“Yes.”

John left the room right after that. Sherlock and (Y/N) were frozen, finally feeling the weight of their actions over their shoulders. They stayed there for the rest of the day, thinking of ways to apologize and be forgiven by John.

Sherlock was confident that John would forgive him instantly because they were best friends and John couldn’t live without him. (Y/N) knew she would have it hard, and she knew it because John had explicitly said that he wanted to marry her.

The regret of their sins soon began palpable, and they wished – prayed – for a miracle to happen, for a time machine to go back and stop their affair right before it started. John was the most important person in their lives, and yet they had hurt him just for the heat of the moment.

“We will find a way to solve this,” Sherlock promised, planting a shy kiss on her lips before putting on his coat and scarf, and leaving.

-

The days became weeks and the weeks became months.

John had moved out of Baker Street, breaking all contact with both Sherlock and (Y/N). Those two still couldn’t set a label on their relationship, but it didn’t matter because they had stopped. (Y/N) decided that staying away from each other would be a great idea, something similar to rehabilitation and so they would “cure” from each other and the affair would be done for good.

John avoided them at all costs, and truth was he was doing great. He had met a new woman, and things were starting to look bright for him; she was normal, she was stable and she wasn’t a sociopath.

Sherlock had found his comfort in his job and loads of exotic drugs one of his favourite vagabonds had introduced him to. His world had turned as empty and dull as it had been before John Watson appeared through the laboratory’s door with his cane and military stand.

Moriarty was still causing trouble, and so Mycroft was forcing his brother to stay focused, ignore his depression, repeating him that he should’ve stayed out, not get involve, etc. Mycroft had decided to drag his brother out of the hell John Watson and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) had locked him in.

-

One day, while Sherlock waited patiently at Saint Barts laboratory, his phone rang and he answered without hesitation, only to realize that it wasn’t the person he was expecting.

“Mrs. Hudson has been shot.” John’s voice spoke.

“What? How?” Sherlock asked, failing to hide his interest.

“Maybe one of those criminals you tend to attract.” John hissed, “She’s dying, Sherlock. I will see you at 221B, right now.”

“You go, I’m busy.”

“Busy?” Sherlock could hear despise in John’s voice, and it hurt so much…

“Thinking, I need to think,” Sherlock explained, hating the words that came out of his mouth but hating, even more, the reason why he was pronouncing them.

“You need to….? Doesn’t she mean anything to you? You once half killed a man because he laid a finger on her.” John insisted.

“She’s my landlady,” Sherlock stated as a tear threatened to spill.

“She’s dying,” John begged, and Sherlock didn’t say a word. “You machine… Sod this, sod this! You stay wherever you are if you want, on your own.”

“Alone is what I have. Alone protects me.” Sherlock recited mechanically. It had been his mantra since John found out about him and (Y/N).

“No. Friends protect people.” Sherlock hung up the phone, unable to hear John’s voice hating on him in that precise moment, right before his death.

-

John’s taxi pulled up outside 221B and John didn’t hesitate in jumping out and hurrying towards the door, scrabbling his pockets to find the keys he had had no courage to return when he left. Once the door opened, he hurried inside, only to find a tattooed bald workman standing at the top of his stepladder just in front of the stairs, drilling a hole into the wall. Mrs. Hudson was standing nearby watching him.

John ran towards her, and she jolted in startlement for she had not heard his approach over the sound of the drill. Her face managed to express all of her contained enthusiasm at the sight of John Watson back in Baker Street, and she couldn’t resist the urge to hug him.

“John! You made me jump!” She giggled and John stared in confusion. “Is everything okay now with you two? Has, um, Sherlock apologized? How did he manage to? He was supposed to be sorting things out with the police.

“What are you talking about?” John inquired.

“Haven’t you read the papers?” Mrs. Hudson asked sadly, and her face fell when John shook his head.

It only took her five minutes to explain it all. From Sherlock depression to the millions of problems he was having because of that “filthy” Moriarty man. It only took thirty seconds for John to understand what was going to happen if he didn’t stop Sherlock from falling.

John turned around and ran outside, looking up and down the street frantically. He was lucky enough to see what he needed immediately.

“Taxi!” John called and the cab began to pull over on the opposite side of the road. John chased across the road towards it. “Taxi!” He called again. There was a man just about to tell the driver his destination, but John was faster and pulled the rear door open as he apologized. “Police! Sort of…” John excused himself and the taxi drove off as the man walked away angrily.

-

Four dead bodies, four loved ones, four friends falling because one was too coward to jump. Sherlock had run out of ideas, and the time was running. How would he live knowing that those four were dead?

His landlady, a mother figure to him, the woman that took care of him in spite of him being an arsehole that didn’t pay rent on time.

The inspector that always had his back, that always gave him an opportunity, one of the few people that still believed in him and his great heart.

The woman that had ruined his life, and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about her. The one to release his demons and loved them in spite of their darkness. The woman who had given him the sweetest nightmares. The woman he loved.

The man that had rescued him from boredom, the man that had given him his friendship and trusted his life to him. His doctor, flat mate, companion… His best friend.

Sherlock was willing to repay everything they had given to him with his own life.

-

On the rooftop, Sherlock breathed shallowly and rapidly, holding his sleeve up over his mouth in horror as he turned to look again at Jim’s fixed, dead grin. His mind was frantic, looking for a solution that was never found. Then, slowly, he turned towards the edge of the building. His breathing began to slow as he stepped onto the ledge, blowing out another breath and looking down to the ground. From his perspective, it looked like an endless fall.

John’s taxi pulled up. Sherlock took out his phone and selected the speed dial. John was still one of those contacts, even though they hadn’t talked for months until the phone call John had made an hour before.

John answered the phone, raising it to his ear as he trotted towards the hospital. “Hello?” John answered.

“John.”

“Sherlock, are you okay?”

“Turn around and walk back the way you came now,” Sherlock begged.

“No, I’m coming in,” John replied. He was determined to stop Sherlock from doing whatever was on his mind.

“Just do as I ask. Please.” Sherlock begged once again, this time softer.

“Where?” Asked John, as he turned and looked around, bewildered.

Sherlock paused for a moment as John walked back. When he got to the proper spot, Sherlock asked him to stop right there and John obeyed.

“Sherlock?” John called, insecure on what the detective was making him do.

“Okay, look up. I’m on the rooftop.” Sherlock confessed and noticed, from afar, how John looked up and how his face filled with horror. It wouldn’t be the first time he was hurting John, but at least he wanted to apologize one last time.

“Oh God.”

“I ... I ... I can’t come down, so we’ll ... we’ll just have to do it like this.” Sherlock muttered.

“What’s going on?” Asked John, anxiously.

“An apology. It’s all true.” Sherlock spoke as his nose became stuffy and his eyes turned red.

“Wh-what?” John stuttered.

“Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty. And (Y/N)… I was jealous of you, and I wanted to prove that… That I could have her, that I could beat you in matters of the heart as well.” Sherlock confessed as he looked around briefly at his enemy’s grinning corpse, lying behind him.

“Why are you saying this?” John whined, staring up at his friend in disbelief.

“I’m a fake, and a terrible friend,” Sherlock whispered, and his voice broke. He had turned back to look down at John.

“Sherlock ...” John warned.

“The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson, (Y/N) and Molly ... in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes.” Sherlock continued as his voice became tearful.

“Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up. The first time we met ... the first time we met, you knew all about my sister, right?”

“Nobody could be that clever.” Sherlock chuckled sadly.

“You could.” John insisted.

“I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you.” Sherlock lied, sniffing quietly as a tear dripped from his chin. “It’s a trick. Just a magic trick. The same one I used to impress (Y/N) to take her away from you and…”

“No. All right, stop it now.” John ordered, closing his eyes and shaking his head repeatedly. Then, he started walking towards the hospital entrance.

“No, stay exactly where you are.” Sherlock said urgently, “Don’t move.”

John stopped and backed up. “All right.”

“Will you ever forgive me?” He asked, stretching his hand out towards his friend. John nodded. “Keep your eyes fixed on me,” Sherlock begged as his breathing became rapid and his voice became frantic. “Please, will you do this for me?”

“Do what?” John cried.

“This phone call – it’s, er ... it’s my note. It’s what people do, don’t they – leave a note?” Sherlock mumbled.

“Leave a note when?” Inquired John, not wanting to hear the answer. He shook his head and took the phone from his ear momentarily as the stress hits him. He was beginning to understand Sherlock. John raised his phone again and his voice comes out rather shaky. “I already forgave you; let’s leave it in the past. Fake or not, you are my friend. And, as for (Y/N)… be with her if you want, I don’t mind anymore.”

“Goodbye, John.” Sherlock cried. He had finally heard what he had wanted to hear in the past months and, sadly, he couldn’t… He couldn’t go back to his friend and forget it all; in fact, he couldn’t come back at all.

“No. Don’t,” John begged.

Sherlock gazed down at his friend for several seconds and then threw his phone away onto the roof, gazing ahead of himself. John lowered his own phone.

“No… SHERLOCK!” He screamed upwards, but it was too late.

Sherlock spread his arms to either side and fell forward, plummeting towards the ground. John stared in horror.

“Sher…” He couldn’t finish. The falling of a life that had been so dear to him, a life that was being dragged to its end because of a bad press and an impossible love… It only showed how human Sherlock Holmes could be, and it was a real tragedy that only then, in that precise circumstance, John and the rest of the world could finally see it. The hidden humanity of Sherlock Holmes, which was now falling to its end.

A couple seconds later, the body impacted the ground. John started hearing whites out as his entire self focuses solely on getting to Sherlock as soon as he can. Sherlock had disappeared from view towards the end of the fall because a building was on the way of John’s view of the detective.

John ran to the corner of the building and then slowed down, stopped in the middle of the road when he got his first glimpse of the still figure lying on the wet pavement. He can’t see the body completely, but one thing is certain: he is not moving.

Things began to move faster, yet slower. John limped his way to Sherlock – yes, limped. The psychosomatic limping had returned because Sherlock wasn’t there anymore to cure it. And although he ran to his friend without caring, John Watson could feel the pain he had forgotten many years ago.

A man on a fast pedal cycle slammed into him and sent him crashing to the ground. John hit his head on the asphalt hard. He groaned and struggled to stay conscious while, nearby, people began to run towards the body on the pavement. A couple medics ran out from the hospital and tried to prevent the onlookers from getting too close.

Grimacing in pain, John rolled onto his side and looked across to the pavement where Sherlock lied on his side with lots of blood under his head. The thick, red liquid was spreading fast all over the sidewalk, meaning that the injury was severe and that he was losing too much blood to promise a good rehab; but John kept his hopes high, he had to save Sherlock Holmes.

Slowly, John hauled himself to his feet and stumbled his way to the body as more onlookers gathered, talking excitedly about what they saw. The ghoul, the excitement of a dead body on the pavement, the pleasure of seeing it… John was disgusted by those people, but he didn’t think too much about them because he had to get to his friend. Therefore, he forced himself onwards.

“Sherlock, Sherlock…” He repeated over and over again. It was the only thing that could come out of his mouth. But when he reached the crowd and he felt contact again, his mind settled a bit better and so he said: “I’m a doctor, let me come through. Let me come through, please.” But it didn’t work because the crowd tried to hold him back, and so he pushed through them once more. “No, he is my friend… He is my best friend, please.” He whined.

Finally, the crowd and the medics gave up. John fell down to the ground, reaching to take a hold of Sherlock’s wrists, searching for a pulse. He wanted to feel his heart beating; he wanted to know Sherlock was alive. But dreaming is free, and it never comes true.

The crowd and the medics tried to push John back once more. “Please, let me just…” He was too weak, too overwhelmed. His knees surrendered and so he slumped to the floor, and only a couple of onlookers stopped his head from hitting the ground again because they held him.

Two medics rolled Sherlock gently onto his back, revealing his blood stained face and wide staring eyes. John groaned in utter despair, not willing to accept the picture in front of him. Sherlock Holmes could not be dead.

“Jesus, no…” John cried, and so he tried to stand up once more but failed. “God, no…” He continued as the onlookers supported him. Four medics lifted the body onto a stretcher and then wheeled it away into the hospital.

John stared, his face was blank and uncomprehending. His friend, his best mate was dead, and he had been an arse in those past months. Why? Because of a woman that clearly loved Sherlock better? John had missed his friend; he had left Sherlock alone while the media destroyed him bits by bits, taking the holes left by John to their advantage… Who was the bad friend?

Finally, he managed to get to his feet and shook off his helpers. Staring blindly in the direction that his friend’s body was taken, John failed to move. His whole world felt empty, stressing, vague… Dull. There was something inside him, something indescribable, and it felt like the end of the world.

-

“Please, there’s just one more thing, mate, one more thing: one more miracle, Sherlock, for me.” John begged, crying at Sherlock’s grave, “Don’t be…” his voice broke and filled with tears, “Dead.”

From afar, a shadow stared – listened to his sorrowful words-

“Would you do…? Just for me, just stop it.” John continued, gesturing down at the grave. “Stop this.”

Masterlist.

Forever Tags: @dekahg Benedicto Cabbagepatch Tags: @newts-fan-case @resurrection-huntress Sherlock: @oaisara @charlottemalfoy @zena-dukmak @just-a-blog00 @wefracturedmotivation @beccamullz @sugarshai @vancepter @roseyhxnt @thisisjessicatalking @foureyedsiopao @nicole-pierce @captain-sherlockomg @kissed-by-white-wolf @samanthasmileys @love-charmer-sketch @givemeamemoryicanuse @diesintheshower @demonminnion3 @thatmoodindigo @sexyporntime @jennajoseh @destiel5100 @peachyoshi64 @1enchantedfantasy1 @thesherlockblr