#it wouldn’t have killed my old flatmate or my old best friend to have given me just a bit of fucking compassion

[elonmuscovado]

okay i can’t sleep and i need to vent so hello tumblr!!!

[blueeyedgeorgie]

Close My Eyes(4)

I close my eyes and I make believe You’re the one that’s holding me

Pairing: WillNE x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k+

Pronouns: She/Her

A/N: This is where I made the changes to the story. Big changes.

________________

Five months. It had been five months since Will had last spoken to Y/n. Will had finally caved into Everett's demands of him keeping his distance. He did everything he had to keep her away. He blocked her contact, blocked her social media. He told Gee if Y/n had ever shown up at their front door, he wasn't going to speak to her. Will couldn't even tell if Y/n had been trying to reach out to him, he couldn't tell how long it took for Y/n to finally give up on their friendship. It hurt horribly, but it was worth it if it meant Y/n would be safe as she could be. At this point, Will's friends had learned not to mention Y/n around him. Whenever her name had been mentioned, he'd practically shut down. He'd end up closing up, becoming stiff and tense. He'd try and leave the room or setting as quickly as possible to get away from the conversation. Will had soon taught himself to tune the thought of Y/n out. He learned how to forget her. He figured out how to forget all the memories he had with her. For the first month or two, it hurt like hell. He missed seeing her. He missed being able to be in her presence. He missed the way her smile could light up a room. He just wanted to hold her close. He wanted to be able to whisper sweet things to her, reminding her that he'd always keep her safe. Keeping her safe... it was strange to think he was keeping her safe by keeping his distance. The day Y/n had figured out Will blocked her out of his life was a heart-shattering day. She had sobbed for hours, the only person to comfort her was her maid of honor. Everett hadn't shown any signs of sympathy, he almost seemed proud to have Will cut Y/n off. Y/n had left voicemail after voicemail for Will, which he never received. When she snuck out to stop by his flat, she had been ushered away by his flatmate. Gaby had even tried to reach out to Will, only to be given the exact same treatment as Y/n. After a month, Y/n had finally accepted it all. But Will lingered in her mind almost every day. She missed him. She just wanted to be with him. She wanted to hear him say everything would be okay. As the wedding date rolled closer and closer, Y/n had become quite more anxious. At this point, she wasn't sure if she was ready to get married. Everything was moving so fast, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to be Everett's wife for the rest of her life. But it seemed to be too late to cancel things. "How do you feel?" Gaby spoke behind Y/n, tightening the back of Y/n's white gown. Gaby. She had been Y/n's rock throughout all of this. She had been Y/n's shoulder to cry on. Gaby felt sympathetic for Y/n. She had watched everything happen from the beginning. She was clever enough to not call Everett out on his decisions and choices, otherwise she wouldn't have been in Y/n's life anymore. "Gaby. Get out." The room had gotten cold of all sudden. Everett walked in, a look of distaste on his face. "But I was-" "You heard me," he snapped in a stern voice. Without saying another word, Gaby took her exit, leaving the engaged couple alone. At this point Everett had started to circle Y/n, his eyes roaming her body. Y/n felt so vulnerable, she didn't like it one bit. She stared at herself in the mirror that sat in the corner of the room. She felt scared to even look at her soon to be husband. "Why are you wearing your wedding gown, Y/n?" Everett spoke in a low tone, sending a shiver down Y/n's spine. "I just wanted to try it on one more time before our wedding." Y/n couldn't help but speak in a low tone. It sounds so abnormal for Y/n to be speaking in such a tone. Everett stopped his circling, walking up behind Y/n. As soon as he stood right behind her, his hands reached out, grabbing onto her arms harshly. It felt like he wanted to leave bruises on her, as though they'd be some type of cruel trophy showing his ownership of her. He made eye contact with Y/n through the mirror, they stared at each other for a moment before Everett made a tutting noise. "Y/n... you're quite the fool, aren't you? You're going to ruin your dress. And a week before my wedding?" He yanked Y/n, turning around to face him, his grip tightened on her arms as they faced each other now. Leaning down, he raised his voice, almost growling. "How dare you? You don't realize I'm tired, overworked all for my wedding? I've been trying to make it perfect, yet you keep getting in the way. What a disappointment you are. Have anything to say?" Y/n debated with herself, should she really say anything? Or was this another trap to give him a reason to get angry at her? Y/n kept their mouth shut, their eyes emotionless as they fought back tears. "Answer me!" His voice dripped with venom as he began to shake Y/n by the grip he held on her poor arms. He definitely would leave bruises now. Again, Y/n stayed silent. That had only made Everett so much more infuriated. Within seconds, Y/n fell to the floor, her cheek stung. That's when she realized it. Everett punched her. The tears immediately started to fall as soon as his fist collided with her face. Glancing up, all she could see was the scowl on Everett's face. He had shown no sign of regret for putting his hands on her. Muttering a small 'clean yourself up,' Everett disappeared out of the doorway. "Oh my god, Y/n! What happened?!" What felt like seconds had only been minutes when Gaby appeared again to find her best friend crying. By now Y/n had finally gained her strength to stand up from where she crashed to the floor. "I-I need to go," Y/n whimpered, passing by her bridesmaid. There was only one person she needed right now. And she was willing to go and see him even if he didn't want to speak to her.

Will had invited the Eboys over for drinks and future video planning. So far they only had three video ideas planned out, but no idea where they'd be filming the videos. "I just think we shouldn't even try to film a football video-" George had flinched at the sound of the front door being pounded on. "Will, it's me. It's N/n. Please, I need you. I only need you right now," Y/n could be hear on the other side of the door. "Is she... crying?" Alex raised a brow, his eyes looked on the door. Will froze, staring at the door. If he didn't answer it, she'd go home. 'But she's crying you asshole.' "Will, I'm so sorry. He was such a bad man." Y/n had slid down to the floor, leaning against the front door as she sobbed.                                                                                                     "You've got no balls, Will." George gave his friend a look before making his way to the front door. As soon as the door opened, Y/n sat up, quickly rushing into Will's arms. Will automatically wrapped his arms around Y/n, holding her as tight as possible, he didn't want to let her ago again. He could feel his eyes water, was this actually her? This wasn't some cruel dream? When they finally pulled away from the hug, Will kept his arms around her waist, still holding her near. As soon as Will got a good look at her the first thing he had noticed was her gown. 'Runaway bride?' But the most important thing he noticed was the bruise forming on her cheek. He knew exactly who did this to her. "I'm going to kill him and no one will find his pathetic body." As Will made his way to the front door, he had been stopped by James. Somehow, Y/n had gotten Will to calm down after a while. She had promised to set charges against Everett for assault and to put a restraining order against him. After getting that all sorted out, Y/n had explained the whole story to her old friends. She told them about the way he yelled at her. She explained how he made her cut everyone out of her life. She mentioned how he chose everything for their wedding, even the gown she was wearing at the moment. After spending the day with her friends, catching up on everything and being comforted by them, James, George, and Alex decided to head back to their homes for the night. "Not to sound as demanding as your fiance-" "Ex fiance. I'm not gonna go through that marriage." Y/n cut Will off for a moment. "Yeah. Not to sound as demanding as that jackass, but you're gonna stay here tonight. We still have your old room from before you moved in with him and if you need clothes you can borrow Gee's or mine." "Yeah, sounds like a smart idea," Y/n nodded. "By the way, Y/n." Will smiled a bit, "You look good in a wedding gown." "Thanks, Will. But I think you're gonna have to help me upstairs in this gown. You would believe how hard it was to drive here." Y/n replied in a sheepish tone, trying to fight back the small blush on her cheeks. Will grinned, looking from the staircase to the love of his life. "We can make that work." Quickly, he picked her up in bridal style, making Y/n let out a small squeal. As the pair made their way up the stairs, Y/n decided to mention another thing to Will. "Also, I'm gonna need you to loosen this dress and get me that one t-shirt I use to steal all the time. You still have it, right?" "Why wouldn't I have it? I remember the last day you gave it back to me I didn't wash it until it didn't have your scent anymore." "You're a dork," Y/n giggled, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. "How am I the dork? You're the one asking for the t-shirt." "You offered your clothes, stupid," Y/n smiled as Will put her down. They reached the top of the stairs. "Am I stupid or am I a dork?" "You're both." Will was laying in bed scrolling through Instagram. He had unblocked Y/n, only to scroll through the Instagram posts she made in the past three months. At first, he hadn't noticed the figure standing in his doorway. But as soon as his eyes landed on her, he knew it was Y/n. "Will?" "Yes, N/n?" "I thought... nevermind. It's stupid." "What is it?" Will sat up, turning off his phone. "Can I cuddle with you? I just need you." "Of course," Will nodded, patting the spot next to him in bed. "C'mon." Y/n climbed into bed, laying down on Will's chest. Will put his phone down, wrapping his arms around the girl laying down. After all this waiting, maybe he would be able to have his happy ending with her.

Will jumped at the sound of pounding. He glanced down, noticing the sleeping girl in his arms. So it wasn't a dream. His mind had been pulled away from Y/n when he heard the pounding for a second time. Slowly, he got out of bed, trying not to disturb Y/n. As soon as she was out of his grasp, Will made his way downstairs. The pounding got louder, someone was knocking on the door. When Will realized who was at the front door, he opened it. "Give her back, Lenney-" Everett had been interrupted by being pinned to the wall. "How dare you put your hands on such a sweet girl. Y/n didn't deserve any of the pain you put her through. I'm not gonna let that keep happening. Instead of stooping as low as you and resorting to assault, I'll be getting in contact with the police. Also, you might want to leave before someone calls security from how loud you've been." When Will had finished speaking, he had shoved Everett, shutting the door on him before he could have the final word. He waited for a minute, wanting to make sure Conway wouldn't bother to knock on his door for a second time. After being sure he wasn't going to try anything, Will turned to go upstairs, only to find Y/n standing there at the end on the staircase. "You weren't in bed when I woke up." "Sorry," Will sighed, approaching her. "I had to deal with something. Do you want to go out for breakfast?" "Breakfast sounds great." Within a week Y/n had divorced Everett, pressed charges against him for assault, and placed a restraining order on him. Just as she promised Will. Everyone was happy, except for the one person who didn't deserve happiness. When fans saw Will and Y/n were back to hanging out, they were excited. They had missed Y/n so much, people adored seeing they had reunited. Months after Y/n's divorce, Will had finally asked Y/n out. He didn't want to rush her into a new relationship after her last one was a dumpster fire. When Y/n was able to call Will her boyfriend, it seemed like everything was going right for once. Everything was perfect now, and that's how it'd stay.

[ddagent]

FAKE DATING ROOMMATES YES I WANT THAT PLEASE

THE MASHUP WEEKEND CONTINUES! Hope you enjoy.

(Also available to read at AO3)

Brienne Tarth was standing on the veranda of their penthouse apartment, sifting through yesterday’s post, when she came across a letter from their landlord. She glanced at the contents, eyes widening. “JAIME!”

“WHAT?”

She strode back inside to what they’d affectionally labelled the tourney ground: a second-floor space that led onto the veranda, with enough room for a couple of bookshelves, a well-used pool table, and two antique broadswords that hung upon the wall. Her flatmate, Jaime Lannister, was stretched out across the table; leaning over to sink a crimson ball in the far pocket. Brienne kept her gaze fixed upon the far wall rather than stare at her best friend’s toned arse. 

“Jaime, did you open this letter?” 

He sunk the ball. “If it’s open and you didn’t, then probably.” 

Brienne swatted him with the envelope. “It’s from the landlord, Jaime. They’re giving us notice for an inspection. For this morning.” Brienne checked her watch. “In half an hour, actually. And if you don’t want to go back to living in Flea Bottom, you’ll help me get this place ready.”

Jaime immediately dropped the pool cue. “I’ll get the wedding rings; you get the pictures.”

Leaving their pleasant morning quickly behind, Jaime and Brienne jumped into action. Their penthouse in the Quiet Isle apartment complex was beautiful: two spacious bedrooms, two bathrooms (each with a shower and tub), a well-lit kitchen and a living area overlooking King’s Landing. To say nothing of the second-floor veranda and the on-site gym and pool. After a string of miserable and often disgusting viewings, this had finally felt like home. And the price was well within a secondary school teacher and an assistant curator’s budget. 

The catch? They had to be married to rent the apartment. 

So, Jaime and Brienne had pretended to be married. They’d got Jaime’s brother to dummy up a marriage certificate, bought a set of rings at a local pawn shop, and paid Brienne’s friend Margaery to take some photographs of them as a couple. It was, perhaps, a little overboard, but you either won the property game, or you were left in a one-bedroom with a black mould and loud neighbours. 

“Got the rings!” Jaime called out from the kitchen. He shoved the golden band onto his finger before producing a matching one and an engagement ring inset with a small sapphire. “Brienne, will you—”

“—we don’t have time,” she huffed, taking the rings from Jaime’s outstretched hand and slipping them on. “We wouldn’t have been rushing had you actually told me about this.”

“It slipped my mind, alright? I was busy marking all last week, and every essay just kept making me angry.” He tucked the boxes back inside a kitchen drawer. “I mean, what fifteen-year-old doesn’t know why Goldenhand killed the Mad King?” 

Brienne sighed. “I can’t have this conversation again.”

“You never listen to me, Brienne. I don’t know why I married you!”

Jaime was grinning when she threw a cushion at his head, and she squealed when his hands tried to grab at her waist. But, sadly, there would be no pillow sparring today; time was running out, and there was still so much to do. Brienne subsequently brought out all their fake photographs: a wedding photograph of her and Jaime; a string of casual pictures on the university campus and the museum; one even of Jaime proposing. Although they’d been friends for five years, and had a multitude of polaroids and discarded lock screens between them, they had needed something that said couple. 

On the other side of the flat, Jaime was clearing out all relevant personal items from his – officially the spare – room. A few clothes; the two photographs Jaime kept by his bed. The stuffed lion his nephew Tommen had given Jaime to keep him safe when his twin’s family moved back to the Westerlands. “I think that’s everything.”

Brienne scrambled over and poked her head into Jaime’s room. “What if she asks why your clothes are in here?”

“I need a lot of cupboard space,” he fired back, carrying his things into Brienne’s bedroom. “She won’t ask, Brienne. I doubt she’ll even notice.” 

Brienne frowned, wishing she shared Jaime’s optimism. But she remembered Mrs Roelle from when they’d signed the lease; the looks she had given the pair of them, and the litany of questions as if they were on trial for murder rather than renting an apartment. “Flea Bottom, Jaime. Better to be safe than sorry.” 

“Fine.” He waved around the boxers he slept in. “Which side does your husband sleep on, Mrs Lannister?”

Brienne faltered; cheeks flushing. “Mrs Lannister sleeps on the–um–the left. So Mr Tarth should sleep on the right.” 

“Good to know.” Jaime shoved his crimson boxers underneath the pillow. Ser Pounce, Tommen’s stuffed lion, sat on top. “I’ll need books for my side. Some marking as well.”

She nodded. “I’ll put an extra towel out in the bathroom. Or would his–and–her bathrooms be better?” Brienne wrung her hands. “Definitely his–and–hers. You have so many products it’d take us twenty minutes just to move them.”

“Hey!” Jaime then huffed, inclining his head. “Alright. I’ll give you that.”

They made the last few alterations to Brienne’s – to their – bedroom until it actually looked like Jaime slept beside her. As the dreaded hour arrived, Brienne moved to wait by the front door. But then she caught Jaime digging through her bedside cabinet and the box that had remained unopened since they’d moved into their first flat together. 

“Aha!” Jaime brandished a condom as he would a sword. “Perfect.”

“What are you—”

“—just toss that there,” he said to himself, throwing the torn wrapper into the bin and stuffing the unused condom in his jeans pocket. Jaime then turned to her, grinning, before closing the distance between them. He placed his hands on her hips and drew her close. “I’m just playing the part. We’re a young, married couple, Brienne Lannister. We have loud, enthusiastic sex regularly.” 

Her eyes briefly glanced towards the bed with Jaime’s sleepwear stuffed underneath one pillow, his scent lingering in the air, and was accosted by images of her best friend atop her; fingers buried between her open thighs and his mouth on her breast. The warmth of Jaime’s hands on her skin did little to help the jump in her pulse, and the reemerging of thoughts she had long thought gone since the early days of their deception. 

Just then, there were two curt raps upon the door. “I should get that.”

“We should get that,” Jaime said, his hand sliding into the back pocket of her jeans. “Now, remember, you’re madly in love with me.” 

If only she could forget. 

[galactic-academia]

Alexithymia

@quentawewe​ asked for #4 "Walk out that door and we’re through" with Sherlock, it was probably in 50 BC and I’m sorry about this, but be sure I did my best, I hope you will enjoy it <3

Rating: G

Category: F/M

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes/Female Reader

Tags: Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Sherlock Is a Mess, Sherlock Is Cute, Possessive!Sherlock, Did I Mention The Fluff?

Words: 1970

Summary: When she heard that Y/N was searching for a flat, Mrs. Hudson immediately offered her to come living at the 221b; what Y/N hadn’t expected were for John’s old room to not be ready to welcome her. The fact is... Sherlock doesn’t want her in another bedroom but his...   

Notes: I’m not a native, please, forgive my mistakes. Picture is not mine. I hope you will enjoy it <3

Masterpost | Ask | Guidelines | Sherlock (BBC) masterlist

Fresh from the Police Academy, Y/N did know things wouldn’t be easy. She was well aware of the risks of her job, she knew very well she wasn’t a sheriff from the Far-West neither a super-hero, she wasn’t about to forget to call for backup when it was needed, yadda, yadda; the instructor had really well done his job, namely ram those concepts in her head as deeply as he could without using a bludgeon so that the new recruit she was wouldn’t make herself kill as soon as she would put a toe on the field.

But there were two things Y/N’s instructor - as skilful and dedicated as he was - couldn’t have prepare her for: firstly for having to work with a bunch of nutcases led by Sherlock Holmes and, then, for her greatest challenge to be finding a place to sleep which wouldn’t cost twice her pay AND wouldn’t be at three hours away from Scotland Yard.

To be fair, this problem had been quickly solved after she had complained about the four busses and metro she had to take to negotiate the distance between her friend’s couch and her office at the Yard to Mrs. Hudson while she was waiting for the Detective to put on some pants for her to drive him to a new crime scene: a week later, Y/N was moving in Baker Street.

Nobody would be able to guess which of Mrs. Hudson or Sherlock had been the more surprised: Sherlock for Y/N to be willing to move in with him (well, not technically “with him”, but in the same flat, under the same roof, sharing a kitchen, and a living room, and a freaking bathroom... All of those mundane things) and Mrs. Hudson for Sherlock to agree this easily when she had asked his opinion about Y/N becoming his new flatmate. Anyway, Y/N was downstairs with all her belongings and a new problem had raised: with his ongoing case, Sherlock hadn’t had the time to move all the shit he had stored in John’s old bedroom elsewhere... That’s how poor Y/N ended up sleeping on another couch - Sherlock’s this time - surrounded by her boxes.

It hadn’t been a problem, at first, Y/N was well placed to know Justice couldn’t wait and quite happy about the ten little minutes between her new couch and the Yard. Two months later, it had become a problem. Sherlock kept finding all kind of idiotic excuses to NOT vacate Y/N’s room; because, yes, it was Y/N’s room, even if Mrs. Hudson had kindly reduced her rent because of the lack of the bedroom Y/N was paying for. It could have not become a problem, Y/N could have left the flat and almost all of her Sherlockian problems behind her, Mrs. Hudson wouldn’t have hold it against her but... Well... Maybe there had been third things the instructor couldn’t have prepare Y/N for, the third would be the soft feelings the police officer was cultivating towards the detective.

And it was stupid, really, it was very clear Sherlock didn’t want her around since he was stubbornly refusing to let Y/N integrating her new bedroom. But you know what? You don’t become a police officer at Scotland Yard because of your outstanding tastes in donuts. Sherlock didn’t want to share is flat with Y/N but let her believe otherwise and pay for a bedroom she couldn’t sleep in? OK, fine. Very well. He would -  at the very least - be forced to face his own assholery.

This time, when Sherlock went to leave the room, he found himself back to a very pissed off and dishevelled Y/N roaring “Walk out that door and we’re through”.

oOo

When Sherlock was going to Scotland Yard headquarter, it wasn’t exactly for the charming companionship. Well, that was maybe a little too harsh, Georges has a least half of a brain and was always doing his best; but, otherwise, if Sherlock was going to Scotland Yard, it was because he wanted a case. Or for an emergency, just like right now. What an emergency? No idea, but it has to be something quite pressing or the officer Y/L/N wouldn’t have thrown him out of his bed while yelling at him to put on some pants before storming out of his bedroom.

When Sherlock left the flat to climb in the cab waiting for him, Mrs. Hudson’s knowing gaze told him he had been spotted. To be fair, he hadn’t been quite subtle, the fact he had obeyed to the officer Y/L/N - and hurried to do so! - told a great deal about how he felt toward her. And, indeed, the next morning, the landlady had suggested a new flatmate to Sherlock.

Ah! What could have he answered to that? He has a soft spot for the officer Y/L/N, not only because she wasn’t afraid to shake him out of the bed, but also because she listened to him. She wasn’t settling for hearing him in awe, in shock or in disgust like all the others did, no, she listened to him. She genuinely listened to him. He had quickly discovered that fact, which had offset his own awe, shock and disgust towards the... The feelings he couldn’t help but have. He had agreed to share the 221B Baker Street with the officer Y/L/N which had become Y/N.

When she had arrived with all her belongings to move in, Sherlock hadn’t honestly mean for her room to not be set, he would have been ready to swear it and had profusely apologized, he had really been caught in the last case and just never thought about tidying John’s old room at all. The incredulous smile Y/N had thrown him before bursting of laughing and telling him it was ok, she would sleep on the couch, just bolstered Sherlock in his first idea: he had been right to accept Y/N as a new flatmate.

He couldn’t have known that, a few hours later, seeing Y/N quietly asleep on the couch would stir something unknown inside of him, something which demanded him to protect and provide, something which made him sick at the idea of letting her go anywhere, something which couldn’t bear the idea of not enjoying the cute show of Y/N’s slumber every night. No, not even the great Detective Sherlock Holmes would have been able to know about this possessive side of himself as Lavoisier wouldn’t have known about the phenomenon of oxidation before burning some metal.

Sherlock knew his behaviour wasn’t worthy of a gentleman and he was secretly praying for his mother never discovering how he had addressed a woman, but it had been stronger than him and, yes, even stronger than the possibility of Mrs. Holmes’ wrath. Sherlock wanted to keep Y/N all for himself and it was already difficult enough to let her go God knows where every morning for the genius to be unwilling to divest himself of the few hours he could spend with her every day. Don’t get him wrong, Sherlock didn’t want to lock Y/N down, he was just... Aaaah! Police officer is a dangerous job and... No, it’s not because she’s a woman, God! He had been raised by Mrs. Holmes, remember? And he lived under Mrs. Hudson’s roof, how could he not know women are as strong as men (and maybe stronger, it wasn’t the point, so he didn’t care)? Don’t be ridiculous... What was his point, again? Ah, yes, the possessive side he had discovered the night Y/N moved in could hardly bear to know her in danger and not being with her to help and protect her (even if she didn’t need to be protect, sometimes it’s nice to be protected, ok? And... Not the freaking point!). Sherlock knew very well his behaviour wasn’t worthy of a gentleman, but he couldn’t help himself and kept finding stupid excuse after stupid excuse to not clear Y/N’s room.

But he was starting to run out of ideas, both for postpone household and for good reasons to not feel guilty about the disappointed looks Mrs. Hudson sent him on a daily basis. Y/N had suggested tidying the room herself, she had asked nicely, she had given him the cold shoulder, but nothing had worked, he had kept telling her he would do it. He had even used of his charm on her, playing lively tunes with his violin to make her smile and stop her from being angry at him. It had worked, maybe a little too well because she had started to dance around the living room and Sherlock hadn’t been sure about who was charming who anymore...

Sherlock knew he had to find a solution to keep Y/N around him which didn’t involve her sleeping on the couch, the faster the better, he was thinking very hard about it, his efforts renewed by the twinge in his stomach when he had come across the empty living room, when he entered his bedroom to discover Y/N asleep in his bed. To say he wasn’t expecting that would have been an enormous understatement, but he felt something deep inside him curl in satisfaction. Exactly. Yes, it was the very exact solution to everything. It was absolutely perfect, it was... Too much for him to handle all at once, as wonderful as it was. Sherlock was ready to make a beeline to the bathroom to get a grip on his feelings, the hand on the doorknob when a groan startled him: “Walk out that door and we’re through”.

Crap...

oOo

The week had been a hard one, Y/N was totally exhausted. She extracted herself from her nest of blankets and pillows to face the stunned detective, too tired to be ashamed of the shorts and the baggy t-shirt she was wearing as bed clothes, and, pointing an accusing digit at him, rasped “You have two solutions: either you immediately go clear my bedroom or you tell me you don’t want to live with me already and I’ll be gone in an hour, but I won’t spend the rest of my career sleeping on your couch. And, since you seemed unable to shoulder your responsibilities, I claim your bed as mine until my bedroom is ready. This is non-negotiable.”

And say that Sherlocked was feeling overwhelmed when he had opened his bedroom door... He could accurately perceive the warmth emanating from Y/N’s body and almost feel the softness of her worn-out t-shirt under his fingers. It seemed he wouldn’t have to find a solution himself, afterwards, Y/N had given him one on a silver plate. Listening to his bravery only, Sherlock just rounded the bed, getting rid of his suit jacket and toeing out of his shoes, to creep in the nest of softness and cosiness from the side of the bed Y/N wasn’t occupying. To answer to the silent question Y/N’s wide eyes were asking him, he just said, from his comfortable spot, “Why would I do such stupid things when you’re exactly where I have always wanted you?”

Kneeling on the bed, Y/N throw him a look full of disbelief. “Why... And you couldn’t tell me?” Sherlock answered with the simple, bare honesty only him could exercise “No. If I had been able to voice it, I would certainly never make you sleep on the couch for so long.” Y/N laughed and went back under the blankets, only to find herself immediately wrapped in Sherlock’s embrace. Home is not a place, it’s a feeling.

Alexithymia (n.): the inability to express your feelings.

***

Thanks for reading <3

[cirilee]

i just found a text my browser had saved on a word count website, and i apparently typed it last november while being sad - i just wanna have a place to post it, and it explains why i was gone for most of may through november last year.

if you’re interested, u can read, it’s basically just a long long long vent and i wanna save it somewhere :’)

(and if you wanna, you can tell me what u think of the whole thing, maybe share if something like that happened to you too, because man, this whole thing was WEIRD for me)

bottom line is: i’m much better now and have way better friends then back then and in general, i’m a pretty happy person again^^

My parents and me had been fighting a lot the past years. I still love them. For a while though, it was just shouting matches between us. We weren't really speaking to each other throughout january 2019 until april 2019, so i wasn't informed by them that they were planning to mOVE OUT. And the place they wanted to move to only had enough space for 2 people. now my brother and me had 3 months total to find and finance our own flats. i was desperate. 2 months i unsuccessfully searched for a job or a flat or a way to make a deposit for said flat, without any saved up money. an old school friend offered to move out together. i only saw him once every month for group activities. he was nice, but we also had a bit of a history. 3 years ago he had acted kinda scummy and tried to get me to be his girlfriend because "he couldnt find anybody else” - ending in a "movie night with friends" that turned out to be a trap, where the only one spending the night was me because he only invited me. creepy. he apologized and i forgave him and we were chill and it was normal between us. i realize now, that i should have just left him out of my life at that point. but time was running out, so i gave in and asked myself "whats the worst he could do. i’ve known this person for 12 years and the he's part of my friend group" we set up basic rules, how we would pay for stuff, etc. .. we moved in. it seemed fine. then i noticed that he talked A LOT. and he wanted A LOT of attention. after a day of working on my diploma or working at my job, he would assert himself in my room and try to engage in smalltalk. i am not the hermit type. i engaged with him, i joined in on his conversation. but when i was already tired he wouldn't accept "i'm gonna go to sleep". there was always something else he needed to talk about. I was trying to make clear to him that i needed alone time too, but no matter how honest i was, the message either didn't seem to stick, or he'd get upset and start asking me if i hated him. With that, i could have kept up with in the long run. Then he started knocking on my door. even when it was already late and i already told him i was gonna go to sleep. Repeatedly knocking on my door. At some point he just opened the door. It was 1am. I pretended to sleep. I could hear him breathing, it sounded angry. He eventually closed the door. The next morning i confronted him. He argued it away as him trying to warn me that he was going to take a shower, so that i wouldn't use the bathroom. He started commenting on how i wasn't funny enough around him. in that friend group, i'm the funny one :c. but i cant keep up that energy 24/7 (this was supposed to be a home, not a free neverending standup act, for this one guy). that confused him. the next day he asked me if i had depression. My parents had given me a griller/toaster as a parting gift (there’s a backstory for that too but anyways) my flatmate ALSO had that same toaster. He demanded we make up our minds which one to keep. i didn't understand why this was important to him and i hated discussing this useless topic with him so i stored the toaster in my room. He repeatedly suggested i throw mine away (?). One evening i got hungry and decided i'd make myself a toast in my room. So i made some toast. Suddenly he bursts in. And he starts ranting. "why are you doing this are you CRAZY you cant TOAST in your own room thats DANGEROUS you're gonna start a fire, don't ever do that again, we have a KITCHEN for that. why don't you want to use the kitchen you cant just HIDE from me every day, this is OUR flat  and i want us to live TOGETHER!" He didn't stop talking and it overwhelmed me, so (this is embarrassing, but) i actually started crying and i turned away from him so i could try to control myself. and he just started babytalking me "awww its alright i didn't mean to scare you, but you see, you shouldn't have done that". he tried putting his arms around me, i told him to stop. "you need a hug right now" ...... i was so angry i think my brain might have short circuited because the next hour was me just acting the whole way through. i told him everything he wanted to hear. i was so sorry for almost burning the house down and made up some explanation that my parents were still making me sad, so i needed distance. The next big thing involved one of my best friends. she wanted to spontaneously go out for an evening. so i put on some pants and of course: HE appears in my room, asking where i'm going. i was surprised by the question and just answered "going out with Lina" he left it at that. then suddenly: "can i come too?" He threw me off with that question. Lina had said she needed some advice on personal stuff, so I said "no" because i didn't have a better answer. he got ANGRY. i explained. "Lina wants some privacy, i'm sorry" He starts arguing that Lina is just as much his best friend, and that he should be allowed to hear what she wants to say to me. Before i can reply he slams his door shut. "Don't even try to explain yourself", he says. I told my friend while meeting up with her and she began with the sympathetic "you should have said yes" and we argued about it and then she came out with this absolutely horrifying sentence: "you know how he is. you cant be *too* honest with him. he's sensitive. you need to lie to him so he doesn't get mad" it was as if i'd been splashed with cold water. i said i didn't agree with that. that that was actually unfair to HIM. nobody likes being lied to and treated less than. she called him, told him i was gonna apologize and he showed up with the angriest expression i ever saw in his face. he accused me of being depressed and that he now has the burden of my mental issues to bear. This he assumed because one night i told him about me dissassociating sometimes a few years ago. Then he wanted me to promise i would never leave him, because he's afraid i won't be able to pay my part of the rent. the crowning moment was my friend Lina mostly agreeing with him and both of them berating me for not having my life together because i still hadn't managed to find an open-ended contract job, only limited-time jobs. at the end he justified himself by saying he cant stand my parents phoning me. (at that point they had started calling me everyday and showed genuine concern ... i was trying to reform a bond with them) - apparently he resented that. he knew about my parents disciplining me with face slaps as a kid (when i was 9-11 yrs old) (they feel bad about it, and they they stopped doing it fairly early) in that moment my flatmate chose to tell me ..... (hoo boy i need to get ready to type this) .... "i'm concerned about you. if your father would ever beat you, i would beat him  to a bloody pulp" then he repeated "i would beat him/kill him" a few times, VERY agitatedly. it was scary and at that point i was numb. i didn't really respond, i just said "its fine" or something to that extent. the  thing that made me decide to move out (although certainly among many that followed that night) was this: one morning i informed him i was going to visit my parents that weekend. we had started talking again (as i mentioned before and i wanted to meet them without fighting for once). he says "but you're coming back, right". i say "of course don't be so nervous". i go to work. i get a LOT OF texts from him suddenly. i skim through it. he's mad about me calling him "nervous". i don't reply/read bc i am at work. Then he actually CALLS me. i don't pick up.  now i'm thinking: What is so  important, that he has to call me during work.  there's a 4 paragraph essay in my inbox. "watch your mouth", "you have no right to speak that way to me", "you should have more respect". he was mad i called him nervous. i responded that i don't have time to reply. he argued back. at one point i said "if i cant even call you nervous then i'm ACTUALLY gonna stay with my parents" he fiNALLY didn't reply to that. after a 10hour day i come home. i wanna shower. i go to my room, close the door and start undressing myself. of course, there's knocking on my door. i say "No" he flips out. i calmly tell him i'm only half dressed. he flips out even more, says i'm a horrible person who WANTS to fight because my "no" wasn't a good enough answer and i should have explained in full detail why he couldn't get in. he was actually SERIOUS. this was his reasoning for flipping out. he goes away. not even a minute passes by and he hammers his fist against my door again. "OPEN UP THIS TIME I *HAVE* TO COME IN" at this point i'm beginning to get kinda scared  so i say "come in" He comes in and says he needs me to disconnect with the wifi because he needs it for his work. i calmly say "ok" and disconnect my wifi. he goes away, leaves the door open. i stand up to go and close my door. HE ACTUALLY GOES AND PULLS AGAINST ME TO TRY TO PRY IT OPEN AGAIN. eventually he lets go and then he flips out FOR REAL. he starts screaming about how i'm a psycho, and that im crazy and awful and he has been nothing but nice and that he "saved" me and i haven't been thankful enough.

.... ..

yes, i was in a difficult position. but that flatmate arrangement was made on even ground. he had wanted to move out from his parents for years. i fled and left. called my parents, but they were miles away and laughed it off. i would have probably too. i called my friends. Lina offered to come and mediate. He continued screaming even with Lina there. It culminated with him roaring at me, pointing at the door saying "if you don't like how i treat you, there's the door, leave right now" with lina replying "don't say that, you NEED her money to pay rent!" it was awful, and an eye-opener. the next day, on the way to work, i decided i was gonna move out. and before i could tell him, i get a message from him (!). An ultimatum. he tells me i have 3 options. 1) leave immediately and take my stuff away within a week. i wouldn't have "pay any more than i've already payed" (it was the first day of that month and i had already payed my rent. nice) 2) stay for half a year, but immediately pay him something so that he knows i'll stay 3) stay indefinitely, but set up a " bevahiour contract" with him, so this "never happens again" i told him i'd take option 1 and then i stayed over at a friends house. then at a friends shared appartement. then at dormitary and soon i'm gonna move in with my younger brother. we've been estranged a bit but grown closer through this whole thing. now Lina and him are still friends and lina blames me for "everyone in our friend group" being mad at him. one of her first concerns, was that her birthday parties are gonna be weird now. i am completely done with her as well and don't want her in my life anymore. according to her, I left him with a rent he cant pay  and i should feel bad for that. except i dont. should i though?

[whereforeartthoudumbass]

resurgere (Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes) pt. 1

“Best friends since childhood, Becky Barnwell and Stella Roddin were inseparable on both schoolyard and-" The tinny recording was cut off as a piano began to play bright repetitive chords. A man with bright blond hair slowly sat up, yawning and stretching. Voice still scratchy with sleep, he sloppily danced around the room, using a hairbrush as a microphone as he sang to the song playing as his alarm.

“Sun is shinin’ in the sky, there ain’t a cloud in sight. It’s stopped rainin’ everybody’s in a play, and don’t you know, it’s a beautiful new day, hey hey,” Steve Rogers sang, punctuating each ‘hey’ with a knock on the door leading to his flatmate’s room. He was answered by a groan and some creative swearwords.

“Lord, let me sleep. It’s too early man, I don’t deserve this shit.”

“Wakey wakey Sam! Time to get up and face this bright beautiful day.” The door opened to reveal a surly black man, looking about ready to kill his human alarm clock flatmate. “Remember? It’s Sunday! Time for our morning run.”

“You can morning run that flag pole up your a-” What was sure to be a very rude remark was interrupted by the harsh ringing of a doorbell. All attitude forgotten, Steve turned white as a sheet.

“Shit! That’s gotta be him!” He ran back into his room, his momentum carrying him straight into- and through- his bedroom door. Crap. They’d have to get that fixed. For now, he just stepped gingerly around the debris, cursing his ‘perfect’ physique. Pulling on a pair of low-slung grey sweatpants and a muscle shirt, he properly mussed his hair and applied some deodorant. Brushing his teeth as quick as possible, he spat out the toothpaste and quickly rinsed his face, cursing under his breath as the doorbell’s ringing became more persistent. He heard Sam go down to greet their guest, however dressed in flappy bird pajama pants and bunny slippers he might have been. Say what you will about his attitude, but that man was brave. Finally ready to go face the day, he slid down the banister, landing in what his friend Wade would call a ‘superhero landing’. Hearing clapping coming from the kitchen, he turned with wry humor in his eyes to find his two best friends applauding his heroic stance. Bucky pretended to check an imaginary stopwatch, then with faux-innocent eyes and a cocky grin he looked up.

“3 minutes and 26 seconds. That might be a new record for you. Who knows? Next time you might even be faster than Pietro!” Steve surged forwards to hug his long-haired friend.

“What’s up Bucky? I haven’t seen you in like two months! How’s law school goin’?” He stepped back to admire the gift God had given him in the form of a smokin’ hot best friend- not that he would ever admit it anyways. “Law school is good. Boring, but pretty interesting. I never thought I’d need to know so many technical terms for anything. You have to be a linguistics major to even understand half the things they talk about! A career in law is basically a career in eloquent roasting.” He grinned and punched Steve lightly on the shoulder. “Stevie! You’ve grown up. And you didn’t tell me you had a roommate,” He smirked and waggled his eyebrows, “especially not one that’s such a smoking hot piece of ass! Sammy boy and I have been getting acquainted while you were doing whatever it is you do to make that hair so pretty,” Steve wasn’t sure whether he was joking or not. He never really could be sure whether Bucky was joking. Especially when at the word ‘ass’, Bucky had slapped Sam’s. Steve gulped.

“Well uh, let’s get jogging!”

“Okay Captain, I mean I’d think you’d want me to get some clothes on first, but…” Oh. That’s right, Sam was still wearing his pajamas.

“Really Buck? You told him about the Captain thing? And yeah, Sam, go get some clothes on. We wouldn’t want all the ladies fainting at all the sight of that-” Sam beamed. “-ugliness,” Steve finished. Sam scowled and stomped upstairs. Bucky snorted.

“How could I not?”

“What?” Steve looked down from where he had been following Sam’s ass with his eyes. He may have been heart-set on another guy, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t look at the menu. He just couldn’t order. Sam was a nice guy, just not the one for him. The one for him had just asked him a question- oh right. Captain America. “Oh yeah.”

“I mean, I was just talking about the art of eloquent roasting, I might as well demonstrate for our young friend.” Steve slumped down on the couch next to his best friend and leaned back into Bucky’s arms. They’d always been comfortable with each other, even now that they lived in different cities. Bucky was home to Brooklyn for the summer, but as soon as school started back up in September, he’d have to go back to the SHIELD School of Law. In DC. At least he hadn’t moved across the country. Steve hated to admit it, but Bucky was 90% of his impulse control. He was still close enough to stop Steve from doing anything stupid, although nowadays most of the “Keep Steve out of Trouble” duties were relegated to Sam.

“He’s not any younger than we are, Buck. He might even be older.”

“You don’t even know your own flatmate’s age? I’m hurt.” Sam bounded down the stairs, toweling off his head. “To be fair, for all I know, you guys could be 100 years old. Barnes, did you know that Steve didn’t know what an iPhone is? He has a flip phone. A flip. Phone. When did you guys grow up? The Great Depression?” Bucky gained a devilish grin. Steve stiffened. Oh no.

Slipping into an easy early 20th century Brooklyn accent, Bucky began. 

“Oh y’know, dear ol’ Stevie and I go way back, doll. He’s got more gumption than I have hair on my head. He’s such an eager beaver to git inta’ a rhubarb. Doesn’t mean he ain’t a geezer though. Whoa, cap, don’tchu snap your cap. If that ain’t some gosh durned moxie right there. What a fat head.” Sam looked both confused and scared. Steve would’ve been laughing if he wasn’t still gaping at how hot that whole display had been.

“W-wow Buck. Where’d ya learn all that?” Steve was staring at Bucky with wide eyes and trying not to stare at his friend’s throat as he gulped down a glass of water Steve had left on the coffee table the night before. Trying not to think about Bucky’s lips… Bucky slammed the glass down on the table and turned Steve around so he was facing him. Steve was now nearly sitting in Bucky’s lap.

“Same place I learned how to dance,” he said, smirking at Steve’s wide eyes and open mouth, “improv club. You were there Stevie, remember? With ol’ Dr. Erskine?” Sam cleared his throat and they both looked up.

“Sorry to interrupt this dear old reunion containing homoerotic undertones, but I believe that Bucky is going to be here for a while. And that we are currently supposed to be going on a run? Steve, you wouldn’t just drag me out of my nice warm comfy bed would you? Not to me, not to your oldest friend?”

“Hey!”

“Shut up Barnes, I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. You’re his boyfriend, not his best friend.”

“I’m not gay!” Bucky exclaimed. Steve thought his heart stopped beating for a second. It sure felt like it. “I’m just… confident in my masculinity.” Steve nodded slowly. He tried not to let his emotions get the best of him. Maybe he could be Captain America. Maybe he could try not to wear his heart on his sleeve. For Bucky, he could do that. For Bucky, he could hide it. For Bucky. Sam gave him a look that meant he knew exactly what was going on, and then walked over to the door to put his sneakers on. Steve followed, extricating himself from Bucky’s embrace. The last to get up was Bucky himself, stretching his limbs out in a display that made Steve want to do things. For Bucky, his mind reminded him. Do it for Bucky.

[motiveandthemeans]

Prologue: History Always Repeats Itself

A pair of sea glass green eyes surveyed the London skyline; taking in her sights, smells and sounds. Cataloguing the different bus routes and tube stations, the families pushing prams, the couples holding hands and Rugby players prowling from bar to bar. The oppressively hot afternoon had given way to a gentle summer breeze, teasing her dark auburn locks.

It had been a riotous day, full of celebration and merriment. Her best friend had just graduated medical school and has agreed to take run of Watson & Watson Surgery, the practice her father and mother started together. The rooftop of 221 B Baker Street was a welcomed escape from the downstairs festivities.

“You’re not fooling anyone, you know. I know you’re upset I’ve taken up at surgery.”

Amelia Elizabeth Anne Holmes looked over her shoulder at her blonde counterpart. “Mmmmm, do you now, Watson? How very astute of you. Must be some sort of record.”

“No, no we agreed!” Rosamund replied, walking to stand beside her leggy friend. “I need to hone my practice before we go traipsing across London solving crimes and getting ourselves in sticky situations.”

The brunette scoffed, crossing her arms with a pout. “Where is your sense of adventure, Rosie? You can’t honestly tell me the idea doesn’t appeal to you. We’ve been solving crimes together since we were seven and eight years old.”

“Yes and if it wasn’t for Greg Lestrade, God rest his soul, we’d probably been arrested by 11 and where would we be then?” The good doctor replied triumphantly, downing the rest of her champagne.

Amelia’s bow lips frowned. “That’s completely irrelevant. We cannot entertain hypotheticals, we must examine our lives as they are before us.”

“Mercy you sound like your father.” Rosie laughed, slinging her arms across her brunette friend’s shoulders a bit drunkenly. “Don’t fret, Holmes. It’ll all work out.”

“Ever the optimist, Watson.”

“C’mon, our mothers are drunk and I have a feeling our fathers are eager to get them home.” Rosie laughed, taking her friend by the arm and dragging her away from the rooftop garden.

“I distinctly remember the last time that happened I ended up with a baby brother.” Amelia grumbled, elegant long strides outpacing Rosie’s petite steps.

Rosie Watson groaned, burying her head in her hands. It was 12:05 on her 295th day at Watson & Watson Surgery and she was already weighing the benefits of strangling herself with a stethoscope versus continuing on with the next impending case of strep throat or chlamydia.

“Rosie, dear, your twelve o’clock, Mr. Clarke, is here.” Heather, the medical assistant said in her sing-song tone. “Says he’s got ‘hot pins in his pecker when he pisses.’”

She gave her a tight smile. “Great. Thanks a lot Heather. Be there is a jig.”

Heather shut the door to her office and Rosie let out an exasperated sigh and rested her forehead against the desk. She went into medical school with the notion of excitement and joy at the idea of being a doctor. Her father always gushed about how rewarding it was to be there for a person at their lowest point. She understood paying her dues, but was this all really worth it? Graduated top of her class, with honors. All for the Chlap?

“Ah, Watson.” A new voice interjected into her train of thought. “Love what you’ve done with the office. Very…”

“Quaint?”

“Small.” Amelia scrunched her nose up, settling in the chair across from her. “Or cozy, which ever you prefer.”

“What do you want, Mia?” the young doctor grumbled. “If you’re trying to snag a prescription for morphine, I’d remind you we do them electronically now. So your knack for forgery had now been antiquated.”

“Oh please, like that would stop me.” She replied nonchalantly. “I need your help. I’ve come across a rather curious case that is out of my range of knowledge.”

“Please tell me you didn’t flirt with the pathology students again to gain access to Bart’s morgue? You know your mother hates when you do that.” Rosie admonished, standing to put on her fancy white coat, a gift from her parents upon passing boards.

Her dark haired friend smirked. “Ask no questions, I will tell no lies.”

“Cheeky, Holmes…” Rosie flipped open her iPad, reviewing her patient chart. “Well, what’s the question? And be quick about it. I’m betting Mr. Clarke’s got a nasty case of Trichomonas.”

“Riveting.” Amelia said dismissively. “Suppose a man was found dead on a pool deck in the middle of the hottest summer in 20 years, who upon examination was found to have died of hypothermia. Time of death is around 2 in the afternoon.”

Rosie raised a quizzical brow and tried to bite back a grin that for all the world reminded Amelia of her Aunt Mary. “Do you have any other information?”

“Perhaps. Interested?”

“No. I’m perfectly content in learning my chosen trade of medicine but you won’t leave until I give you my opinion so let’s just get on with it.”

Amelia produced a file seemingly out of thin air.

“Hmmmm, hematocrit is increased by five percent, plasma potassium levels are definitely out of range, glucose below 40…all labs point towards hypothermia.” Rosie said. “So how does a person die during the hottest part of the day, on a public pool deck, of cold stress?”

“Still not intrigued, Rosamund?”

Rosie stared down the taunting look in her best friend’s sea green eyes. “No. But if I were you I’d look into blood recently stolen from the blood bank.”

“Why is that?”

“He’s on the transplant list, waiting on a kidney.” She said. “Perhaps there was something haywire with his dialysis.”

“Curious case indeed! But who would want a special education instructor dead?” Amelia mused with morbid glee. “Oh yes, this case in improving by the hour!”

“Improving? The man’s still dead, Mia!”

“Yes well that’s not really the point though is it?” Amelia replied. “Come along, Watson. There’s work to be done.”

“Mia, I have a job. I can’t just drop everything and leave! It’s patient abandonment.”

“As you wish. I’ll keep you informed of my progress.” The brunette said placidly, walking out of the office. “Give my best to Mr. Clarke!”

“You’re welcome!” Rosie called after the closing door. With another angry huff, she gathered her things and prepared for her appointment with Mr. Clarke.

She looked at the clock: 12: 13. The day just wouldn’t end.

Amelia Holmes paced the length of 221 B Baker Street. She knew that the victim, Mr. Halliwell, had been killed by one of the medical professionals he’d come into contact with. Only the nurse who had administered the blood in dialysis swore up and down that she’d warmed the blood before administration. Amelia had seen no lie her eyes.

“I’m sorry, but why am I here?” Her youngest brother, Theodore, asked confusedly from the couch where he was reading a textbook on mammalian anatomy.

“Because I need inspiration.”

“On why someone’s been murdered?”

“Obviously…” She drawled as if it was the most obvious conclusion in the world.

“When was the last time you ate?” He asked off handedly. “Mummy will be terribly cross if you start losing weight again.”

“Your point?”

“Well, I go back to university in the September. I can’t be in three places at once, keeping an eye on you is a full time job in that of itself.”

Mia frowned. “I’m going to miss having you here.”

Teddy gave her a sweet smile. “You’re just saying that because I make better tea than you do.”

“Figured it out, have you?” She smarted back with a wink. “Well, in any case it seems I’m in need of a flatmate.”

“It’s twins!” A new voice said triumphantly. “I know it!”

Amelia looked over at the doorway to see a flushed Rosie, still in the smart clothes she’d worn to surgery. “Don’t you have work? It’s only 4 o’clock. Your last patient isn’t till six.”

“He’s got a twin brother that’s been sleeping with his wife.” Rosie continued. “I went to the school where he works, she’s not exactly bereaved by the loss of her husband of 36 years and she looked awfully cozy with his brother at the funeral. I followed them to a posh French restaurant just down the road. They’d only started on wine when I left.”

“You went to the funeral?” The youngest Holmes asked, bewildered at her audacity.

“It’s never twins, Watson.” Amelia deadpanned. “Have you learned nothing from Sherlock?”

“You can call him Dad, you know.” Teddy said amusedly, setting aside his book and moving to the kitchen to start tea. The apartment looked much the same as it had when Sherlock and John had lived there, except the kitchen table that had once occupied lab equipment now played host to several monitors, CPU’s, laptops and GPS.

“I prefer to call father by his name when working in a professional capacity.” She said retrieving her black Chanel bag and Burberry trench. “Don’t wait up Theodore!”

“I never do!” He called back. Amelia smiled at her brother’s cheek.

“Wait, you’re not suggesting we actually stalk them?” Rosie replied indignantly.

“You followed them to a funeral and you think going to the same restaurant is over stepping bounds?”

“Well, girl’s gotta have a code.” She shrugged.

“Come along, Watson.” The consulting detective smirked. “The game is on.”

“Well, that was quite invigorating!” Amelia announced loudly, an exhausted Rosie dragging her feet into Baker Street at 2 am. “I never would have suspected the wife would be in cahoots with the sister-in-law to kill the husbands for a measly state pension.”

“If I were writing a blog, I’d entitle this case A Study in Fuchsia.” The blond yawned. “I’m beat. I’ll sleep in Granny’s room.”

“It’s too bad we didn’t run into Cedric.” Amelia waggled her brows salaciously.

Rosie rolled her eyes. “I’m over that childhood infatuation.”

“Whatever you say.” Amelia intoned.

They stood quietly in the entryway, the heaviness of the situation palpable.

“Look, Amelia. This doesn’t mean that I’m going to quit surgery. It was a one off.”

Amelia nodded. “Goodnight, Rosie.”

“Night, Mia.”

Amelia walked out of 221 B at 3pm the next afternoon, having not slept for quite some time while on the case. In the chair that had once been occupied by her father, Rosamund Mary Watson sat drinking tea and reading her iPad, dressed in ironed clothes and fresh make-up. She spied several suitcases by the door, though they weren’t Teddy’s luggage.

“Ms. Holmes, I hear you’re in need of a flatmate.” She said, setting the tea cup down.

“Word travels fast.” Mia grinned. “Could be handy having a doctor around.”

“Is there a vacancy?” Rosie teased with a sly grin. “I hear every consulting detective needs a physician with a penchant for writing.”

[nobravery]

The Neighbor — Part. I

a Shawn Mendes Series.

Requested: No.

A/N: Finally I’m posting something. I was inspired at the very beginning but I believe that it’s getting worse and worse this story, rip it’s completely unrealistic whereas I always write in a way as realistic as possible. But never mind, I had fun. It’s always a pleasure for me to write. Also big shoutout to @babyshawwn because she’s the Queen of the Fics, and @illumendes my fav cunt who told me to go on. Ah, and @saysweartogod for your name.

WordCount: 3,815

Two weeks later. It was almost midday. That day, the sun didn’t put in an appearance, but it wasn’t raining for all that. It was just kinda cloudy. y/n was working on her classes in her bedroom, while Emily was keeping an eye on the spaghetti carbonara, reading some school books and with music in her headphones. Both were very concentrating, when y/n thought she heard someone knocking at the door. She didn’t hear anything more, so she shrugged her shoulders and plunged back into her sheets of paper. But she heard the knock again. So she frowned, before calling Emily from her bedroom. Obviously the latter didn’t hear whatever, but y/n ignored that. « Emily, someone’s knocking, go and answer the door! she yelled a little louder. » No answer from Emily. Emily, I’m going to kill you, she thought. Then she stood up, came out of her bedroom and quickened her step; entering the living-room, she immediately saw Emily who acted as if nothing was happening. But when she saw y/n, she removed her headphones quickly. « Hey y/n, is there a prob? – Yeah, I called you like two or three times but obviously you didn’t hear, I understand why now. Someone’s knocking at the door, y/n informed eventually. – Ah? Who’s this? the other inquired. – I don’t know, I’ll get it. » So straight away y/n rushed to the door, not wanting the person on the doorway to wait even more. She unlocked it, pressed the handle and finally opened the door. The guy in front of her was so tall that she had to raise her head to look at him. His hair was brown, curly, nicely done and looked very soft. Clad in a white tshirt, he was smiling at y/n; his teeth were perfectly lined up and as white as his tshirt. His mandible was well-traced as well and she could guess that his zygomatic bone was too. Hands in his jeans pockets, his brown eyes were looking at her, and she noticed it a few seconds later. « Hum, hello? she managed to say finally with a smile. How may I help you? » Then she heard Emily who was still in the kitchen saying something like « Who’s that? ». Meanwhile, the guy was smiling even more. « Well, I’m your new neighbor and I didn’t have the time at all to buy sugar. I was wondering if you had some. » The young girl was gazing out at him, and frowned weakly at a moment, but still smiling. « Yeah, we have sugar for sure. Come in, don’t stay outside the door. » So the guy complied and immediately Emily joined them near the entrance. « Hello! the newcomer said. What’s up there? – Euh… » Definitely y/n was looking for his name that she didn’t know yet, turning her forefinger in circles and pressing her lips together. « Oh sorry. Shawn. I’m Shawn, he saved her eventually. I was wondering if you had some sugar, he explained to Emily. » y/n approved with a nod, while her friend had her eyes wide open, meaning she understood. « Okay, Shawn, I’ll get it, I’ll get you what you want. » She dashed towards the little cupboard above the sink, and finally grabbed the sugar. She rejoined the two others after. « Here is it, she declared, holding the sugar box out to Shawn. » He took it right away, and he thanked her with a smile. « I’m Emily. And this is y/n who let you in. – Nice to meet you, he greeted. Have you been longer here? » Emily and y/n looked each other in the eyes, then y/n finally replied. « No, we’ve been here for a little more than two weeks. We just settled. – We’re there for studies, added her flatmate. For a year. We’re not even from Canada. – Wow, I see, and what do you study? Do you enjoy Toronto? » As Emily was going to have a quick look at the spaghetti before she could forget them, she let y/n and Shawn carried on the conversation. « Criminology is our major, Anthropology our minor. Both are interesting. » With that, Emily who was still hearing what her bestie said, came back a few seconds later. « We do enjoy Toronto, she continued, although we don’t know everything yet. But the vibe looks cool there. – Yeah it is, the young boy simply answered. » All three had been talking for two little minutes about Canada and especially Toronto and U of T, before the time when Shawn announced that he had to leave. He greeted his neighbors, having a final talk with them and finally joined the door; the girls went with him. « Hope to see you soon! he called once he crossed the doorstep. – Obviously, you live just nearby, Emily replied. – Yes, true but I’m leaving soon. – Vacation? questioned y/n. » Shawn laughed a bit then smiled. « Not really, but let’s consider that yes. – Oh okay, well, Emily said. When will you leave? – In four or five days. – Fine, I hope you’ll enjoy! » He smiled by way of thanks, told his two neighbors that he will go past again to give them back the sugar box and a few seconds after, he got back to his door and returned home. The girls, who just closed their door, could hear his one shut. While y/n was on her way to set the table for lunch, her friend had still her hand leaning against the door, thinking. « You’re coming? y/n asked her. Lunch is ready right now! » Emily complied and finally took a seat opposite her best friend who was serving them with pasta. Then y/n immediately noticed that she was kinda preoccupied. « What are you thinking about? she inquired when she took a seat as well. » Emily chewed before answering. « I don’t know, didn’t you have a feeling of déjà-vu? I mean, when you saw the guy. – Ah, Shawn? No, why? I should have? This is absurd, Em, we don’t know anybody here. Moreover I don’t know any Shawn. » Nevertheless y/n was thinking about what her flatmate said, in vain, when the latter replied to her. « I know that, me neither, but I’ve the impression that I’ve already seen him somewhere. Never mind, I’m probably too tired. »

An hour later, the two girls were playing a game of chess on the table when they heard a knock at the door. « This must be Shawn. I’ll get it again, declared y/n. » Emily nodded. Meanwhile, the other reached the door and opened it. Indeed, it was Shawn on the doorstep, the sugar box in his hand. « I didn’t want to bother you earlier, so here I am. Thanks for the sugar, he said, giving it back to y/n. – You’re welcome, we can help each other, among neighbors. » They smiled at each other. « By the way, maybe you already know it but it’s Canada Day in two days, I’m going to celebrate it with some friends, I wanted to know if you wanted to join us, if you don’t mind, of course. » At the time, the young girl said nothing, because she didn’t know what to answer, quite simply. So she called Emily out and the latter came, practically straight away. « What’s going on? Is everything okay? » Then y/n beckoned to Shawn to repeat what he had said just before, so he did it, asking again in front of the two flatmates. When y/n seemed hesitant about accepting, and unlike her Emily looked completely in. « Hey, come on! she encouraged. Let’s have fun for once. » y/n thought a bit, rolled her eyes and finally she gave in. « Well, Shawn spoke, I’m delighted you have accepted, I’ll see you in two days so! » Then they said goodbye to each other and all of them returned to their respective apartments. Emily and y/n went back to their seats and to their game of chess. « It’ll be cool, we will have fun in two days, Em said as her mate was focusing on the game. – Hum hum, yes! she replied while moving one of her two knights. I guess so. » In actual fact, y/n wasn’t the one who had often parties — which didn’t mean that she didn’t like parties —, contrary to her best friend, who had always said that y/n didn’t know how to have fun whereas it was actually wrong, and who never missed the opportunity to live it up and to hook up with some guys during parties. But this didn’t stop Emily from being as serious and invested as y/n when it came to studies. Both were rather intellectual; indeed their favourite places ever had always been libraries, places full of books at least. Besides, they had met each other for the very first time in a library. « Checkmate, Em, she declared a few minutes later. – What? How’s that? No? Already? » She looked for another move to do, but she found nothing. « Checkmate, y/n repeated with a smile and amusedly this time. » Emily murmured something which looked like a « Too bad », and asked to take a revenge on her, but she lost one more time. « You should tell me how you can do that. You just checkmated in six moves. – Girl, you know I’ve been playing chess for ages. I’ll teach you one day. » Em smiled, while y/n was putting away the chess set in a storage drawer. Then she retraced her steps and went back to her bestie. « I think I’m going to– – Library? » y/n sighed loudly, rolling her eyes out of despair. « Not at all, let me finish my sentence. I’m going to buy blank sheets and I’ll try to find some cool postcards for my family. You’re coming? » But the other didn’t answer; she was smiling widely. It was a mocking and mischievous smile. « What? Why are you smiling like that? Did I say something funny? » Emily continued to smile in the same way as before. « Nothing special. I was wondering… – Hm? » She finally burst out laughing, making y/n, who was preparing her stuff to go outside, frowned. « You know, the neighbor… Shawn… He’s rather cute, uh? Do you think he’s currently single? » y/n let her billfold down, with the element of surprise. « What? I don’t know, Em, I don’t care about that, it is not our business– – Hm hm, you still love bets and challenges? – That doesn’t change actually, said y/n. » Even though she was rather a good loser usually, she was afraid of what her friend could say about Shawn. Emily was the kind of person who could challenged the others to do everything and anything. But it was always harebrained ideas. « What if one of us tried to get off with him for Canada Day? It could be funny. » y/n shook her head straight away, which meant no. « Certainly not, I decline this. But you can. That’s your genre to do this, not really mine. I’m the one who wants serious things. » Emily shrugged her shoulders. « You’re not funny, y/n. But okay, I’ll try during his party in two days, she explained. That could be really fun. – Obviously. One more on your list of conquests, her flatmate replied in a sigh, taking her bag. » They looked each other in the eyes; Emily’s one were full of challenge. « You’re crazy, Em, the other added. He might have a girlfriend who’s just next door and we don’t even know about it. You’ll see blurry when we’ll arrive and when he’ll say something like “and this is blablabla, my girlfriend”. » Her best friend shrugged her shoulders again, and then y/n asked her again if she wanted to go outside with her. Em declined, wanted to study a little. So with that, her friend went to the door, unlocked it, opened it and shut it again behind her. She was now in the corridor. She walked right up to the grey metal elevator, pressed the button to call it and then turned her gaze on the floor in an automatic way. The elevator arrived at her floor few seconds after, and its doors opened. When she raised her head again, she found someone who was familiar to her inside the lift, in front of her. « Hey, y/n! You’re going for a walk? – Hello again, Shawn, she replied while they inverted their positions, and she pressed the button that allowed to keep the elevator doors open. Yeah, last-minute shopping. » They talked for about five good minutes, about everything and nothing, whereas they had already talked together earlier. He asked about Em, what she was doing at the moment, what they haven’t discovered in Toronto yet. Also he questioned if both of them were still in for Canada Day. « Of course, she confirmed. We both are. That will be great. Thank you. » Shawn smiled at her, his hand pressing against the wall. His hands. y/n noticed how large they were. « Okay, I’m gonna let you go so, he finally declared. » After saying goodbye to each other, the elevator led y/n to the first floor and she left the building.

Many hours later, it was about a quarter past five, y/n just returned to the condo. She had spent a lot of time at a library in the centre, after buying what she had to buy. She had got lost in books and hadn’t pay attention to the time. She crossed the doorstep, and entered the apartment. « Hey, y/n, finally! Where were you? » Emily was sitting on the sofa, reading a whodunnit. « I did what I had to do, and as you can guess, I went to a library! It was very huge. You should have come, you missed something dude! – Ah? You’ll show me next time so. » After putting down her bag and stuff, y/n sat next to Em on the couch. The latter put her book on the living-room table, and the newcomer told her everything in details about what she saw in town, how the library and stores were… And eventually she told her that she passed Shawn as she went to the lift. Emily didn’t really comment about it. « You should have come with me outside if you wanted to pass him. If you want to catch his eye… – Yeah, patience… » y/n smiled at Em, who gave it back to her.

The following day, y/n just woke up. It was already twenty past ten. It was unusual for her to wake up at this time, because she was rather an early bird. For once, it was Em who was awake first, because when she came to the kitchen, she had already breakfast. « Hey y/n, her friend called her, what’s up? This is the first time you’re the second one to wake up. – Nothing much, I don’t know. There’s a first time for everything in life. » Actually, she didn’t sleep well. And Emily knew why. « You’re still thinking about Chris? she ventured. » y/n flinched and winced when she heard this name. « Yeah, maybe. I don’t want to talk about this. About him. » This guy, Christopher, was y/n’s ex with whom she had been for almost two years. She was really in love with him, and she thought it was mutual. But the day which had marked their breakup was the one when she had found out that he was cheating on her with a girl she had always hated, and that for several weeks. And the worst was that both were still dating, while it had been already nine months since the split-up. « Don’t even think about him and his slut anymore, Emily recommended to her while pouring her cereals into her milk again. They’re not worth you giving them attention. » y/n approved with a simple « hum », while eating some French toasts and drinking her milk. She was just trying to hold back her tears. « I know this ain’t easy, Em carried on, but you have to try. They’re toxic. You mustn’t think about these assholes. – I know, Em, her bestie retorted. And you’re totally right. »

Two hours later, Emily had gone into town in her turn, but y/n didn’t want to go outside for the day, feeling a little tired this morning. Em should be back very soon. y/n was watching TV, when someone knocked at the door. Surely Em, she thought. She didn’t hurry over answering the door, dragging her feet. She opened the door eventually. It wasn’t Em. It was Shawn. Again. « Heya, Shawn, how may I help you? – Hey, y/n. Is Emily there? – No, she’s in town. You can wait inside if you have to see and talk to her. » He frowned, which surprised the young girl. « What? she asked. » He grinned weakly. « Actually I wanted to see you. » So she pressed her hand on her clavicule. It was always the sign that she was nervous; nobody knew, except herself and Emily, obviously. « Oh. I’m listening. You want to? she suggested him, inviting him to enter. – No, it won’t be very long. » Shawn was staring at his feet, and finally he raised his head, looking his neighbor in the eyes. « I wanted to ask you something, actually. y/n… » The latter flinched for the second time in a morning. What did he have in mind? Did she do something? Did she say something? Thousands thoughts crossed her mind in one millisecond. She was looking at him. She got lost in his eyes. He was so neutral, and usually she could perceive what people thought and how their emotions were reflected through their eyes. But this time, she couldn’t perceive anything about him. Because his eyes weren’t talking.

A/N: So here was Part. I. I’ll try to post a Part. II very soon whether you want it or not lmao, idk when exactly, given that I haven’t written the end yet lmao I don’t even know how to end the story so rip me but I’ll find, don’t worry lol. As usual, any feedback is appreciated and welcome, it’s always a pleasure to know your opinion, etc.