#mizjoely writes

[mizjoely]

Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Prompt #1 - "Put her down!"

"Put her down!"

"Why? She's not even sick!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, marched over to his wife, and shoved her away from the cot she was currently leaning over. "Ha. Ha. Very funny." He looked down at the wide-eyed infant now cradled in his arms. "Mummy thinks she's funny, but the truth is, she needs to take things a bit more seriously, doesn't she?"

Eliza Europa Holmes reponded with a delicate yawn and stretch, and Sherlock's annoyed expression morphed into one of absolute adoration. "I understand why Mummy wants to pick you up and hold you, but the doctor gave her strict orders: no lifting anything heavier than five pounds until her stitches heal. And you, my poppet, although tiny, weigh in at exactly nine pounds at the moment. Four pounds too heavy for Mummy."

He didn't need to turn his head to know that Molly was sticking her tongue out at him; nor did he need anything like the superior hearing he possessed to hear her sigh of capitulation.

"Fine," she finally said, an audible pout in her voice. "I won't pick her up again until the stitches heal." He heard the sound of shuffling feet and a grunt as she settled herself onto the nursery day-bed. "I'm sitting. Now give me my baby, Sherlock Holmes, before she starts squalling for her brekky!"

Sherlock, unable to produce any milk for said brekky, reluctantly placed the baby into her mother's arms - after first making sure a soft-but-sturdy pillow was settled onto Molly's lap.

Molly smiled down as Liza started suckling greedily at her breast. She was very glad the doctor had okayed this form of holding her daughter - because although the option of expressing her milk into an aptly titled "mannery gland" that Sherlock had suggested he purchase and wear held some appeal, holding her daughter close while he watched them adoringly by her side was much, much better.

[ladysolitaire]

For the WiP asking game: like :)

A chill went up her spine and her chest felt like an ice-cold hand squeezed her heart. Moran was Moriarty’s lieutenant, a ruthless military man that enjoyed killing and torturing people. She vowed to hunt him down to the ends of the earth if he hurt her mother in any way. She took out her mobile from her pocket and sent an encrypted message to an associate in Vancouver. “Who gave you that intel? You didn’t even know that I was the one that Moriarty hired to kill you.” She put her phone back in her pocket once she got a reply.

Thank you for the ask! 😁

[asteraceae-blue]

Random Wed ask: GLOW/Sherlolly crossover HC/story ideas?

Wait, WAIT, how did I never see this ask??? I am horrible!

Well it's Wednesday, so better late than never, I say!

So obviously, it's a GLOW reunion tour in London, because they've become so popular they've gone national. And the Very Famous European Wrestle who has challenged them to fight on live TV turns up dead in the ring on the day of filming. Is it his bitter ex-wife who got nothing in the divorce? Is it his old wrestling partner who harbors a deep jealousy? Or could it possibly be one of our beloved Gorgeous Ladies vying for a chance at a Merry Murderess style comeback?? Who better to solve this high publicity crime than the one and only Consulting Detective and his team!

[miz-joelys-sherlollilists]

I was just spending my sunday eveing in bath, relaxing and then "Oh, I wonder if there is any Life as We Know It Sherlolly AU? *3 secs* Nuh, probably not."

Well, there is???

That'd be great if you ask me.

I'm just saying.

PS: If there any, PLEASE someone send me the link!

If there is, I don't know of it, sorry anon!

What kind of AU were you thinking, anyway? Dying to know!

[afteriwake]

Heaven and Hell had been left behind them, but this…this was all new as well. For once, they were truly on their own, without either side tugging at them. It was new, and strange…and wonderful. But Aziraphale had still held a part of his life away from Crowley. Or maybe it was just a phrase Crowley longed to hear, that the love Crowley had for him was reciprocated. Turning his back on Heaven once and for all and helping him thwart Heaven’s devious plan had been a sign, sure, but Aziraphale had not said the words, and Crowley was willing to let the daft angel take his time saying them because he loved him so. But it still put a damper on things.

From "Marshmallows," a Good Omens fic I'm writing for @kingstoken for a Christmas present

I tag @strangelock221b, @idabbleincrazy, @heavenssexiestangel, @mizjoely and anyone else who wants to do this!

Heads Up, Seven Up!

Rules: post the last seven lines you wrote! Then tag others!

[khanolly-mizjoely]

Downsized

“How dare you show your face to me!” Molly hissed as the man she’d once known as Sherlock Holmes entered the room to which she’d been so recently - and ignominously - assigned. A room in the harem, where his concubines - whose beds, she knew, he’d never visited - resided. Janine, Sarah, Sally, Soo Lin - all had scattered at his appearance in their sumptuous (overdecorated, overstuffed) quarters.

Quarters she’d thought never to visit, let alone be assigned to.

“I was your wife!” she shouted while Khan, as Sherlock now styled himself, stared at her through hooded eyes. She’d known he’d changed during the Augmentation program he’d undergone at the hands of the radical militant group that had seized control of the UK - and a good half of the rest of the world - but never ever had she believed he would turn on her.

John Watson probably believed the same thing, a voice she recognized angrily as her own whispered at the back of her mind. Yet now he’s leading the rebellion against your husband. Former husband.

She blinked back angry tears of remembered humiliation: she’d been literally dragged from her throne, cast down at Sherlock’s feet by his hulking bodyguard Joachim, and been pronounced “unfit” to rule by her husband’s side as a mere Human.

Oh, how those words had stung; oh how betrayed she’d felt and still felt and always would feel, to be cast aside by the very man who’d sworn to love and protect her, to stand by her side in sickness and in health, til death--

“Molly!” That impatient tone snapped her attention back to the present; without conscious thought, she curled her fingers into claws, screamed and launched herself at him, aiming for his eyes, revenge the only thing on her mind.

He fended her off easily, of course; what could she, a mere Human woman with only the most basic of combat training - almost entirely defensive in nature - do against an Augmented memeber of the new Super Race? 

Grasping her wrists tightly enough to hold her in place but, surprisingly, not so tightly as to actually hurt her, he waited patiently until her fit of rage had passed, and waited even more patiently as the angry tears that overtook her had slowed to a few hiccuping sobs. “Are you ready to listen to me now?”

She glared up at him through red-rimmed eyes. “I don’t want to hear anything from you except ‘I’m sorry Molly, it was all a mistake, do forgive me’,” she muttered.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry, Molly,” he said, the words so unexpected she ceased her half-hearted attempts to free herself from his grasp and stared up at him.

“I am sorry, but it wasn’t a mistake,” he continued, finally releasing her, allowing her to stumble back a few steps. “I had to do it. To save your life. If I hadn’t,” he stopped, swallowing hard, an expression of guilt/grief/sorrow flashing across his face so swiftly she might have missed it. “If I hadn’t,” he continued softy, “you would have been put to death by our dear emperor. Former flame or not, Moriarty would have no compunctions in sending Moran here to break your neck.”

Molly stifled a gasp, eyes wide with shock and horror. Jim - Emperor Moriarty - had resided over her wedding to Khan only days after he’d been Augmented. “Why change his mind about me now?” she whispered, not understanding.

“Because he’s decided the sentiment of any kind is a weakness we Augments can no longer afford,” Khan said grimly. “A change of mind no doubt influenced by the Empress.”

The Empress. Sherlock’s sister Eurus, the mastermind behind the Augmentation process and rumored to be not only the true power behind the worldwide takeover by the Superhumans, but also the true power behind Emperor Moriarty.

Molly shivered. “So you had me downsized to Consort,” she said. “To save my life. But why not just tell me what was going on?”

“Because I had to be sure they believed me,” Khan - Sherlock - said gently, reaching out and clasping her shaking hands in his. “I’m so sorry, Molly, but no one could act well enough to fool my sister. You know that.”

She did, and acknowledged the truth of his words with a despondent nod. “So what now?”

“Now I let Eurus marry me off to Irene Adler,” he said grimly. “And I allow Sally to explain to you just how things work here - such as,” he added with an unexpected grin, “how to contact John and Mary Watson with information I give you when I visit the harim.”

Molly gasped. “What?!? You mean...you’re part of the rebellion?”

He nodded, once again smiling, that old Sherlockian smile, the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and lit up his entire face. God she’d missed that smile! “Of course. This entire world takeover and creation of ‘super humans’ is bound to fail. And the sooner we can make that happen, the better. So, Molly Hooper, what do you say? Can you stand to be one of many instead of my one and only? Although,” he added, his tone and expression both softening, “that only pertains to matters of the body. Here, where it counts,” he released one hand in order to press his fingers over his heart, “you are still the one that matters most, and always will be.”

She studied him for a moment, gauging his sincerity, well aware that this could be some kind of elaborate trap, an excuse to have her executed for treason as Mycroft and Anthea had been - but no. If Khan wanted her dead, he’d simply have had her executed. Or allowed Moriarty’s hatchet man, Sebastion Moran, to do the honours.

Decisoin made, she took a deep breath and asked, “What do you need?

And Khan, her Sherlock, whispered, “You” as he leaned down to seal their clandestine bargain with a loving kiss.

[sherlolly-fan-art]

Art reposted from this @artbylexie post with permission. The first of a two-parter inspired by her wonderful merlolly art.

Captain Sherlock Holmes valued cold, hard, rational thought above all else. He scoffed at sailor’s tales of the kraken, of sea monsters, ghost ships and most of all mermaids. What manner of creature could exist with the head and torso of a woman and the tail of fish? How could such a creature come into existence? Did she lay eggs for some male version of her species to fertilize, or did she have some form of mammallian uterus and give birth to a live half-fish child?

Such were the mocking questions he’d laid at the feet of Anderson, the cockswain when the idiot had been expounding on the dangers of such creatures. Questions he’d uttered rapid-fire wihtout waiting for answers, confident that none were forthcoming.

Ah, how the fates - if such existed, which he doubted somewhat less now than he had only days ago - must be laughing at him now. A fierce battle with Jamaican rum runners, a freak storm, and here he was, thrashing about the ocean, grimly resigned to his death, when she appeared.

He was positive she was nothing but a waterlogged hallucination, the last gasp of his dying brain to offer up some ridiculous form of hope, but that belief vanished when he felt her strong arms around him, tugging him back up to the storm-topped surface of the water. As he coughed up the seawater he’d swallowed she brought him to a drifting bit of wood - no, it was a rowboat, no doubt torn from its moorings against the side of the ship and fortuitously near enough to serve as his savior. Still semi-conscious, eyes bleary from being beneath the tumultuous ocean’s surface for so long, he managed nonetheless to capture the details of her face as she literally shoved him into the rowboat: long, flowing chestnut hair, enormous brown eyes, brow knitted with either concern or concentration as she pushed his legs over the edge to join the rest of his body. Her skin was pale, nearly luminous in the flashes of lightning, but as he tried to croak out a thank you, she pulled away, smiled, then dove beneath the waves.

The last he saw of her, this mythical woman who couldn’t possibly exist, was her tail, iridescent reds and yellows striped with darker blue or possibly black, like some impossible, water-dwelling tropical bird.

As darkness overtook him, his last thought was one of determination, a silent, private vow to himself.

I will find you.

TBC

[mizjoely]

Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Prompt #3 - "Let's do a television series marathon!"

"I know! Let's do a television series marathon!"

The sprightly request was met with an aghast expression. "Are you serious?? Now?!?"

The answer was an even sprightlier grin and nod combo practically designed to evoke homicidal rage in the recipient. "Why not now? It's not like we've got anything else on at the moment."

Molly Hooper gritted her teeth, then reached out and took Sherlock's hand in hers. Tightly. VERY tightly. "Sherlock," she said between gritted teeth, some part of her viciously enjoying the look of pain in his eyes as she continued to squeeze his fingers between hers, "I'm not exactly in the mood for a Doctor Who marathon at the moment. Being a bit busy HAVING YOUR BABY AND ALL!!" she finished with a near shriek as another contraction spasmed her midsection.

John snickered, Mrs. Hudson tutted, and the obstetrition and nurse both gave him disbelieving looks before returning their attention to the current state of his wife's reproductive organs.

Sherlock, sulking, still had to have the last word. "You know I hate Doctor Who, Molly. I was actually thinking about Call the Midwife."

Molly's response to that bit of inanity shall go unrecorded - but it should be noted that, after some resistance by her husband, she got her way in naming their son when he was finally ready to greet the world: David Matthew, in honor of Molly's two favorite Doctors.

[luminoustico]

For the "one scene" ask: From the Sherlolly Big Bang Challenge, A Bitter, Sweet Life (Chocolat AU)

Thinking back, I believe the “one scene” that got me thinking about the Chocolat AU was Sherlock’s introductory scene. The backstory, the dynamics, all of it was born from that moment where you see him for the first time from Mrs Hudson’s perspective.

[maydamagethematurerminded]

I have a sherlolly headcanonn:

They have 5 children:

Charlotte Helena Mary Hooper Holmes “Nelly”. Got her fathers attitude, clever and snarky but soft with her friends/family. Invented sarcasm. Thinks Anderson is an experiment in inbreeding. Is a doctor of psychology. Helps out her dad often. Can read minds. Is very protective of her younger siblings. Loves Uncle Mycroft, who tears up when holding her the first time.

William Hamish Christopher Hooper Holmes “Willsy”. Carbon copy of sherlock but with Molly’s eyes. Observant like Sherlock but keeps info to himself until it’s necessary. Works in special forces (A medic/doctor like mummy) or something but is a complete goof. Doesn’t need any prompting to sing Disney, Taylor Swift and Lizzo outloud. Loves it when people call him Willsy. Wears bandanas with bees on them. He would die for Oreos and baby animals. Has a husky and finds a kitten on tour that he hides from the superiors. Also loves his uncle Myc, annoys the shit out of him and hugs a lot. There’s a lot of sighing.

Boy twins Benjamin/Matthias- are cheeky little shits and cause havoc. Break into government places all the time to annoy Mycroft “We are testing your security uncle Myc, honestly it’s like you arn’t happy to see us” More sighing. Molly blames their father. Sherlock blames Mycroft.

Marigold Hooper Holmes- “Mari” or “Red”. Has long red curls. Absolute genius, think Tony Stark level. Calls William ‘Christopher Robin’. Will is her favourite sibling but she loves them all. Marigold was born prematurely and sick so everyone is protective of her, but also slightly terrified because she’s so clever. Will either save the world or destroy it, hasn’t decided which yet. Nor if she has the effort. Is naturally quiet, but gets talking when excited about favourite subjects/ideas. Wants to go to space.

All 5 children adore their parents and are spoiled by their grandparents. Sherlock doesn’t think he deserves such a happy family, but Molly and the kids tell him otherwise.

[asteraceae-blue]

20 questions for writers

Tagged by @bourbon-ontherocks, thank you friend!! ✒️📜

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

26

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

466,050, who the hell lets me talk that much?!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

GLOW, Sherlock, Stranger Things has made it in there, I was also diving into the Jurassic World fandom but got derailed. Older fandoms over on FF.net included Castle, Bones, and Crossing Jordan way back in the day

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Pull of My Heart to Yours

Five

Paragon

Be Prepared (co-written with the lovely @mizjoely)

Silk

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to answer everyone! Sometimes I'll get busy and forget to respond, but I do my best to at least say thank you to everyone who comments

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

The angstiest? Probably Watching the World Burn

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think most of my fics have overall happy endings, but the two that are borderline saccharine are That's Life and Golden Repair. I basically ended them with a joyful, romcom soundtrack 🤮

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I have had some, unfortunately. It used to get to me a lot more, because, you know, we all do this for fun and for free. Now I just delete the comments and move on with my day 🤙

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Oh yeah. Ohhhhhh yeah. Typically romantic, sometimes angsty, occasionally plot-what-plot explicit. I let the story tell me what it needs, if you will.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Have not, but I still have a prompt in my Inbox for a GLOW/Sherlock crossover that I would like to get to at some point

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Sort of - years ago I had someone leave a comment on a fic telling me I was doing a bad job with a good idea, and then they took my idea and wrote their own fic (totally fine) and blasted me in the notes (not at all fine), so... that was fun.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Ooh yes, @mizjoely and I have collaborated on Be Prepared and Furo and we had a blast with both. There is a (maybe?) abandoned fic with @miabicicletta that I would still love to finish if the world allows us... 🥺

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I like them all for different reasons, but I think Mulder and Scully will always be my OTP. And I haven't even written anything for them yet! I'm scared, they intimidate me 😬

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I would really really like to finish Shelter From the Storm at some point, even though the franchise is basically done! The idea I had for it was waaaaay different than what they ended up doing in the last movie, and much, much darker. Maybe someday.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Too many ideas in my head and the audacity to think that people want to hear about them 😁

I do a decent job with keeping things in character, and having a plan for where the story is going so I can actually set things up properly. I think I have a pretty good eye for detail as well.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

If I'm having a hard time getting from one plot point to another, I get lazy and things get stilted. I'll bullshit my way through boring bits to get to the bits I really want to write.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I try, guys. I really do. I do as much homework as I can with Google Translate, but I know it's not enough to get it right. I avoid other languages if I can.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

First ever ever? Hahaha Xena: Warrior Princess. First online published I think was Crossing Jordan

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh geez, that's tough - I honestly think it's a tie between Paragon and That's Life. I had the most fun writing both of those.

Tagging @miabicicletta, @mizjoely, @jomiddlemarch, and anyone else who wants to jump on this

[miz-joelys-sherlollilists]

Is there a fanfic where Molly overhears John telling Sherlock to go after Irene (this is after the Culverton case)?

Well, there is now!

“I’m with you, you know that.”

Molly turned her head away. “But what John said, it makes sense.” She looked at him sadly. “I’ve always known it, in the back of my mind. And, and you still text her, now and then - and you haven’t changed your ringtone.” She reached up and laid gentle fingers against his cheek. A good-bye; he knew one when he saw one. “It’s OK, Sherlock, I get it. Florence Nightingale Syndrome, y’know?”

Tears glimmered but did not fall. No, his Molly wasn’t one to let anyone see her cry. Even when - or was it especially when? - her heart was breaking. “Text her,” she urged in a choked whisper as she started to turn away. “Go after the woman you love, Sherlock, before it’s too late.”

He caught her wrist, half-spun her so she was facing him again. “No,” he growled. “I mean, yes, I am absolutely going to go after the woman I love - and that woman, Molly Hooper, is you. When I said I’m with you, I meant full-stop, all the way. Is there an element of gratitude in my feelings for you? Yes, of course there is, how could there not be? There’s an element of gratitude in John’s feelings for you, too - although his are far more brotherly and protective than anything else, now that he’s finally let go of resenting you for knowing I was alive when he thought I was dead.”

He realized he was rambling and caught his breath, still holding her by the wrist - lightly, not trapping her or forcing her to stay. “I’ve made mistakes, Molly, God knows I’ve made plenty of mistakes, but falling in love with you - yes, in love with you, YOU, not HER - isn’t and never will be one of them.” He gave his mobile a rueful glance where it sat on the desk behind him. “Not changing that damned ringtone, on the other hand, is definitely a mistake. One I intend to rectify right now.” He reached down with his free hand; keeping his eyes fixed on Molly’s expressive face - so many little emotions, from doubt, to wonder, to confusion, mistrust, and (dare he hope) trust? - he lifted his mobile, opened it to his contacts, and scrolled down to the one labeled simply ‘The Woman’.

After one-handedly typing in a text, he showed it to Molly. “I don’t often answer them, and this is the last time I intend to do so.”

The two simple sentences read: Sorry, I’m having dinner with the woman I love from now on. Good-bye, Irene.

He pressed send. A response came almost immediately, just as he was deleting the contact.

I’m always free for lunch if you change your mind.

“But I won’t be,” he said aloud after showing Molly what Irene had written. “Not even if you turn me down, Molly.” His lips quirked in a wry smile. “I have it on very good authority - my father - that us Holmes men tend to be one-woman men. Yes, Irene fascinated me and if she’d been more trustworthy, it’s possible she might have been that woman.” It was his turn to reach out, to press trembling fingers against Molly’s cheek. “But I rather think my cold, shriveled up heart was already taken by the time she came into my life.”

The tears were flowing freely down Molly’s cheeks, and he felt a mixture of consternation (was she crying because she didn’t believe him, or had changed her mind about being with him, it had only been for a few days, after all, and she was right, he’d been recovering from his various overdoses and injuries during that time) and tenderness as he gently wiped them away with his thumb.

When she finally spoke, it was barely a whisper; he had to bend his his down to catch her words. “All right.” Then she pulled him into her arms and hugged him fiercely, as if she’d never let him go, as if she never wanted him to let her go.

And they never did.

[lilsherlockian1975]

"Spoiler!"

Okay, I’m sure this ‘spoiler’ thingy is probably geared more for WIPs, but my WIPs make me sad... just sitting out there, unfinished and angry. So, I’m gonna use this as an opportunity to post previews (spoilery ones) of nearly complete crap that’s sitting in my docs file (equally unfinished, but slightly less angry). I fully realize this isn’t the true nature of this ‘thingy’, but I need a kick in the butt and I’m hoping this helps. Anyone who wants more hit me up! And thanks, Miz. (Psst -This is the one we were talking about the other day.)

*   *   *

This is from a fic currently titled The Last Words of Mary E Watson in which John receives several DVDs from Mary after her death. He cannot figure out who is sending them and he has tried - went a little mad trying to solve the mystery, as a matter of fact. Warning, it’s very sad at times and also (because I’m me) a bit silly. But I promise good fun and a somewhat pleasant ending (it’s me, remember!).

   *   *   *   *   *

Each DVD has something written on it; literary quotes - hints as to what he will find inside. He doesn’t actually consider the quotes as titles, per se, more like his wife’s odd sense of humour. Video number one reads: “time is an illusion, lunchtime is doubly so”. God, that woman loved Hitchhiker's Guide! That video is quite personal and it takes John three days to get through it. He never shares its contents with a living soul. 

The one he’s holding now says, “to love or have loved, that is enough” written in her loopy handwriting. With a great sniff, he tries to force his tears back, but it’s no use. Thankfully, Rosie is visiting his sister today. Raking his hand over his damp cheeks, he walks to the television full of both dread and hope. 

Every time he watches one of his wife’s little movies, he can’t help but hope that at the end will smile and tell him it was all an elaborate ruse. Who could blame him with Sherlock Holmes for a best mate?

Once the DVD is safely inserted into the player, he walks to the kitchen and pours himself a large glass of scotch. Settling down on the settee, he says, “Okay, Mare, what do you have for me today?” as he aims the remote, takes a deep breath and hits ‘play’.

Her smiling face appears on the TV. “Hello again.” She draws a deep breath. “Well, we’re at the end, my love. I know you’re sad. I’m sure I would be too, if I wasn’t dead.” Giggles. “Listen,” she leans forward, “this is my final request - assignment, really - you must do something for Sherlock.”

“Sherlock, then. Wondered when we were gonna get ‘round to him,” John says, picking up the remote he pauses the video and takes a large pull from his glass. Somehow he knew this was coming. 

Her second video was fairly mundane; full of instructions about bills, household items and a few things he’d neglected at the clinic. Not for the first time, John had wondered if his wife had been prescient. She’d been right, of course, he hadn’t touched her filing system and it was a complete mess. She’d called that one “never laugh at live dragons” and he had indeed laughed. 

Video number three (entitled “when everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching -- they are your family’) was about reconnecting with his long-estranged sister. Excellent advice as it turned out. Harry had been reaching out to him for months, since Mary’s death, and John had ignored each and every attempt. 

Number four was Rosie’s video. It had been the hardest one to watch by far. Entitled: ‘don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened’, John had started crying immediately, knowing as soon as he’d read his wife’s words that he was about to hear her thoughts on their precious child. A child that would grow up without her amazing mother. She’d instructed him to watch it about halfway through. The rest was for Rosemund. 

One more drink and John aims the remote back at the DVD player and presses play. 

“He needs you, John,” she says.”By now he will have pulled you from whatever self-imposed hell you relegated yourself to. He did that, remember that as you listen to my request.”

“Great,” he says with a sigh, leaning back on the settee.

“As much as he needs you, he needs someone else even more. What’s worse, he doesn't even know how much he needs them.” She shakes her head. “If I was there I’d take care of it myself. Should have, actually, but there was never time.” She pauses, looks thoughtful for a moment, then says, “You’ll have to make the time, though. Sherlock Holmes doesn’t deserve to be alone. Oh, I know he has you, even if things are strained now - or maybe you two are just fine…” she trails off, sounding oddly unsure. “What I’m saying, John, is that he deserves love.” 

Her eyes are suddenly imploring and John’s quite confused. “Let me be perfectly clear, our boy is not in love with that Adler woman - yes I know she’s alive, wasn’t hard to figure out! I believe if you think… really hard, you’ll figure it out who he really loves…”

John gasps. “Molly Hooper?”

“Got it yet?” his dead wife asks with a smile. “Yes, Molly Hooper is the love of Sherlock’s life; he just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Of course!”

“Now,” the woman on the screen says, “what are we gonna do about it?”

“I don’t buggering know!”

“It’s okay, love, I have a plan!” She smirks. “Well, I have several, actually.”

*   *   *   *   *   *Okay, that’s enough. I’d love any feedback on this and thanks again @mizjoely ~ Lil ~

[khanolly-mizjoely]

@kendrapendragon, can you believe it? I’m actually starting to write the thing we talked about a couple years ago. Yup, I woke up with inspiration for Hologram Molly and Khan. This is the preliminary (first draft) beginning, but I hope you like it!

HOOPER.

Helm Operations Officer, Planning and Emergency Response.

He regarded the still form of the ‘woman’ stood in front of him through narrowed eyes. Marcus had created her in the image of a discarded lover, Marlena Moreau, but ‘John Harrison’ had no desire to work with such a monument to the admiral’s ego. “Alter image, authorization Singh two-two-one-b,” he recited.

“Working.” The flat female voice of the computer sounded from his private computer console, and he leaned back in his chair to observe this first, small step into his second rebellion against the slavery imposed on him by Alexander Marcus.

The man he’d vowed to destroy.

The image wavered, shimmered, then stabilized. The hologram was still female, still Caucasian, still aged at approximately late 20s, still petite and slender - but otherwise utterly different. The red hair was now a cinnamon brown; the green eyes were now a honeyed brown. The overly ripe figure - clearly designed for male fantasies - had been slimmed down. Breasts a pleasing handful rather than exaggerated mounds, hips slimmer, lips smaller, eyes slightly larger, nose upturned (that last being a sudden fit of whimsy that had overcome him late one evening after rereading A Midsummer’s Night Dream and picturing Titania with just such a nose).

Of course the hologram’s appearance didn’t matter. He could have altered it to look like anyone - his dearest (dead) friend Joachim, or Marygay, or Gregor (dead, all dead) - but instead had chosen to subvert Marcus’ fantasy woman into his own, for reasons he chose not to examine too closely.

No, appearance wasn’t important, only function - and now that he had been able to access the complex series of programs that brought the hologram into existence, he would be able to infiltrate and subtly alter those functions. Add to them. Make HOOPER more than the sum of her many parts.

“Implement Holmes protocol,” he ordered the computer, once again stating the same authorization code. The one he had gambled that neither Marcus nor his many minions had discovered. If they had, and were merely giving him enough rope to hang himself - well, he’d been a dead man for over three centuries; to truly die would be a relief at this point.

Especially since his crew, his family, were already lost to him.

He pushed away the welling grief with practiced ease. His first instinct had been to rampage, to destroy Marcus as he himself had been destroyed by the knowledge that he was truly alone in this century. But instead he’d managed to rein in his rage, cunning enough to use the savagery Marcus coveted for his own gain.

Revenge was a dish best served cold. The Klingons were attributed that aphorism, but it was the Arabs of a century previous even to his own who had first said it. “It’s very cold in space,” he whispered as he waited patiently for the results of his Holmes protocol - or his own undoing.

TBC (maybe)

[mychakk]

I would read a one shot, 100.000k, a snippet, anything of this universe :P sounds very interesting to have it other way round

September 2016 ficlet

Digging through the archives I found this little Sherlolly fic snippet.  I have literally no recollection of what I was going to do in this story.

You all should post incomplete works too, just FYI.  I CRAVE TO SEE THEM.

Keep reading

[mychakk]

Survival/wilderness and Babyfic mashup for sherlolly please?

Aye, Captain! :)

So a Revolutionary War/18th cent setting. And a trope no3 to add too XD

She runs down the hill, avoiding branches and roots, the heavy musket blasts and flashes of light accompanying her harsh irregular breathing in overwhelming cacophony. Yet she keeps running and running and running, the precious cargo in her arms the most important thing. To save. To protect. She will die for it. But she knows she has to live for it to survive. So she runs and keeps on running, the noises and flashes of light further and further away.

That's the only thing she remembers from her life. That desperate journey through the forest. That feeling of urgency and ...of loss. She wakes up from this nightmare every night and the only thing that soothes her wracked psyche is the little one. Her precious one she's managed to save. So she goes to to wooden crib and picks him up, hugging the babe to her chest, breathing the familiar comforting smell. And as she does so she feels the pang of aching, longing for something she can't even remember.

She's been found next to the village church, barely standing on her feet, a nasty gash on her forehead. Completely spent, she sways on her feets on the outskirts of the forest, probably the one she's trespassed to get to safety. She doesn't know her name. She doesn't know anything about herself. Just the little one. William. She knows he's William and he's hers and she'll kill for him and die for him, and she never leaves him behind.

The pastor and his wife take her in. Settle her in one fo the rooms. Give her a name and a place to stay and something to do. She caretakers to the garden, surprisingly proficient with herbs and natural medicine.

And time flies by.

The villagers generally accept her. They sympathise with her situation even though her accent betrays her. British to their American one. But she's quiet and hardworking and once she's saved little Joey from a nasty set of croup, even the most apprehensive ones quiet their misgivings.

It's been over three months since she settled in the village. The pastor and his wife are nice, but people start to talk. She has a child but there is no ring on her finger. A quiet but steady pressure appears. And Tom, the butcher son, ready to take over the family interest, seems the ideal prospect in their minds. And he is interested. Quite a lot.

But she looks at her son and knows she can't. She won't. And if she has to she'll move away, she'll find another place. Even if the longing in her, this empty space, will never be fulfilled again, she just can't.

She's working in the garden, her son next to her on his blanket playing with his wooden toys, when she hears it.

It's not the name they call her in the village. The one she's never really managed to get used to. It's not even a name that stirs any recognition in her mind, as she has heard it before.

No.

It's the voice. The tone inclination. The feeling. The hope in it.

She whirls around and stares.

She knows this name; said in this voice. She knows those eyes staring at her.

She knows she's Molly and this is-

"...Sherlock."

It falls from her lips, subconsciously.

But she knows it's true.

He jumps over the fence, eating up the distance between them with his long strides.

She just barely gets up before she's engulfed in his strong, familiar, oh so familiar, arms.

"Oh, God, Molly." She hears him whisper in a choked voice. "I never lost hope of finding you. I knew you'd survive."

She sobs into his jacket, memories rushing in like a waterfall, still a jumble, but finally, finally she knows.

Then William coos at their feet.

"Ma?" He asks looking up at them.

Sherlock startles, hand rising to his mouth as he gapes at the boy. Molly scoops him up, presenting him to his father.

Sherlock looks at he boy, taking him in. The boy watches him back with identical look of scrutiny. Then he smiles, reaching out to the new adult. He's never done that with anyone from the village, and throws a tantrum whenever Tom gets near. But he knows his daddy. Even if he was too little to remember him, he knows him.

And Sherlock takes his son and laughs, as tears pour down his face. The boy laughs back, and it's the sweetest melody Molly's ever heard.

There is gold chain on Sherlock's neck and William yanks it, revealing two rings. A wedding band and engagement ring.

Her wedding band and engagement ring.

She notices Shelrock wearing his on his finger as he prevents William from putting the rings into his mouth.

"You left them behind. I've found them in the ruins and vowed to put them back on your fingers." Sherlock says as he pulls the chain, breaking it and letting it fall the the ground, rings in hand. "May I?" He asks, eyes boring into hers.

She nods, choked up, presenting her hand and he struggles with his one hand to slip them on her finger, his other one still occupied with holding William who watches it all with childlike innocent curiosity. Then Sherlock takes the hand and kisses the knuckles above the rings. And Molly's eyes spill. Sherlock gently yanks her toward him once more, his lips finally, finally, crashing on hers. They kiss and William giggles then throws his arms around their heads and they break with giggles of their own. And Molly's heart is full of love and happiness and finally, finally she's complete and knows everything will be alright.

Oops my hands slipped. Hope you like it! @mizjoely