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mimisempai · 1 year

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The music of your heart soothes the wounds of mine

Summary

Greg has only one hurry, being back home with Mycroft. Mycroft, has only one haste it is that his lover comes back to him.

Notes

Mystrade Monday 2.0 #72 “No one is going to hurt you.”

@mystradepromptsandscenarios

On Ao3

Rating G - 1036 words

Finally.

After months of appointments with different notaries, lawyers and others, his divorce was finally completed. He would never again have anything to do with the one who had been his wife.

All Greg wanted now was to see Mycroft.

It was late and he had told him not to wait for him, so if he was asleep, Greg wouldn't wake him, but he needed to see him very badly.

********

Mycroft entered his study, which was lit only by the glow of the moon, and sighed.

He couldn't sleep.

Greg had told him that he shouldn't wait for him, but Mycroft had seen in his lover's attitude that something was wrong and he couldn't help but be concerned. He knew his history with his ex-wife and the damage she had done to his self-esteem.

Mycroft walked to the corner of the room where his cello was and sat down in the chair next to it. He took the instrument in his hands and after a few adjustments let his fingers and bow run over the strings in search of the melody that would soothe his anxiety. He slowly drew his bow, making the first note resonate in the night.

He closed his eyes and let his fingers run over the strings at random, translating the melody that came from his heart.

Mycroft didn't like to follow sheet music, he preferred to improvise, to let the music express what he felt. He never had an audience, so it didn't matter if the melody made sense or not, if the chords were right or not, music was just a way for him to find relief, to express what tormented him, what made him happy or what made him anxious like that night.

He put his concern for Greg, his joy at seeing him again, his love for him into his music, and played again and again, with his eyes closed, until the last chord faded out as he exhaled deeply.

When the last note subsided, he raised his bow and slowly opened his eyes.

He suddenly became aware of a presence in the room and, turning his head towards the door, he was startled to see Greg leaning against the wall, a slight smile on his face.

But what struck him most was the exhaustion on his drawn features.

"It wasn't me who made you stop, I hope." Greg asked, uncrossing his arms and walking toward Mycroft.

Mycroft shook his head, "No, I just finished."

Greg kept walking and whispered, "That was so amazing... How long have you been playing?"

Mycroft blushed a little, flattered by the praise and replied, "Thank you. For a short half hour."

Greg came closer and sat on a stool next to Mycroft.

He took one of Mycroft's hands in his hand and brought it to his lips before whispering, "Will you play something else for me?".

Mycroft nodded and, closing his eyes, began to play.

With his eyes closed, he became aware of all the places where his body came into contact with Greg's, he became aware of his warmth and his scent.

His senses filled with his lover, he began to let his fingers run over the strings again, putting into his music all the love he felt for the man beside him, all that he had not yet been able to tell him. He let himself be carried away. His fingers and the bow twirled again and again until the last note faded into the silence of the night.

He turned his head towards Greg who was looking at him with admiration, tears in his eyes.

Greg reached up and gently touched Mycroft's cheek, whispering in an emotional voice, "That was... so beautiful. Thank you. What's the name of that piece?"

Mycroft smiled sheepishly and replied, "It doesn't have a name, it's mine, I just improvised it."

Greg shook his head, "No wonder then that it is so beautiful."

He rested his head on Mycroft's shoulder and continued, "I... It was hard today. I had to face one more of the things I'd rather forget. Your music is exactly what I needed. Thank you, Mycroft."

Mycroft replied softly, "If that was beautiful, It's because I was thinking about you while I was playing, you know."

Greg raised his hand and traced the contours of Mycroft's face reverently, barely touching the skin with his fingertips.

Then he whispered, almost inaudibly, "May I kiss you, Mycroft?". Mycroft responded by putting down the cello and bow and then closing the distance and gently pressing his lips to Greg's. Greg laid his hand on the back of Mycroft's neck as their lips slowly moved against each other. There was no rush even though their hearts were beating fast. Mycroft opened his mouth to let Greg deepen the kiss and moaned as their tongues touched. The kiss was long and deep, incredibly sweet as they were both raw from the emotions that had run through them. Mycroft for baring his heart to Greg in his music and Greg by the events of the day.

When they broke apart to catch their breath, they remained forehead to forehead for a few moments, neither wanting to be separated from the other. Then Greg laid his head on Mycroft's shoulder and, wrapping his arms around his waist, he whispered, "Mycroft, I'm so tired, can we go stay like this for a while?".

Mycroft, wrapping his arms around Greg in turn, whispered against his hair, "Sure, love."

He felt Greg sigh with relief against him and hugged him a little tighter.

Nestling his face in the crook of Mycroft's neck, Greg breathed against him, "You are the only one... the only one who soothes the turmoil in my soul. The only one with whom I feel safe."

Mycroft, humbled by the vulnerability his lover was showing him, pressed a lingering kiss to Greg's temple and said in a soft but confident voice, "I swear to you Greg, as long as I am near you, no one is going to hurt you."

After a few moments, he felt Greg relax against him and, tightening his arms around his lover's shoulders, he whispered one last time against his hair, "No one."

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Mystrade masterlist here

#mystrade #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade #mycroft x greg #some fluff as always #sherlock bbc #emotional hurt/comfort #established relationship #mystrade monday #mystrade monday prompts

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me-myself-and-my-fos · 8 months

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Just some random things about the Holmes kids

Odelia plays the cello and dances (ballet), Arthur plays the piano, and Christopher doesn’t play an instrument but likes listening to his siblings

Odelia and Arthur like playing chess together

Odelia is very into books, calligraphy, stationary, and such

Arthur loves geology and collects all sorts of rocks. He keeps a journal with pictures and sketches

Christopher loves science and math and likes building model rockets

Odelia said her first words “thank you” at 9 months old

Arthur said his first word “hi” at 1 year old

Christopher’s speech was delayed and didn’t start talking until he was 3. The first thing he said was “Can I have eggs Benedict please, mummy?”

Arthur wears reading glasses that he always forgets in his jacket pocket

They all attend a private school for gifted youth

Odelia is lactose intolerant, Arthur is allergic to celery, and Christopher can’t have greasy food because it doesn’t agree with him

Odelia has my dark brown hair and Mycroft’s eyes, Arthur has blonde hair and Mycroft’s eyes, and Christopher has Mycroft’s hair and my eyes

Christopher goes nonverbal when he’s anxious or scared, causing him to be a target of older kids so his siblings protect him. Mycroft and I have gotten calls from the kids’ school about Arthur verbally fighting bullies reducing them to tears and Odelia physically fighting the bullies

#i have lots more thoughts about them #Holmes fankids #bad for crow #otp: i don’t mind the cold

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teatitty · 2 years

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I am coming into your inbox for some Holmes content :>

We all know Holmes plays violin and I love to think it was something his mother taught him and that Mycroft took after their father for cello (because you don't need to stand and piano is too much stretching for him lol). Mrs Hudson has always been a harmonica and flute player! Watson can't play an instrument but he can do a proper irish jig and classic tap dance. Therefore, it's completely normal to see the three of them performing in the streets around christmas, usually dressed in shades of lavender and blue!

#Anonymous #asks #acd holmes #granada holmes

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saoirse-1887 · 3 years

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Things Sherlock has said that nobody will believe:

"Stop being a little bitch about it," Him to Greg when taking shots.

"I will fuck your shit up,"A bit tipsy, talking to his brother.

"I went to school for five years, five years John, and for what? To chase literal geese around London!" After our whole ordeal with the blue cab.

"If Mycroft and Anderson were in the same room, their stupidity would combine and compress the space and matter to create a black hole of idiocy." Him ranting about people being stupid.

"How long do you think it'll take for him to find the dildo?" Him when when the murder weapon was literally a big pink dildo.

"The knife penetrated him through the anal cavity, it was about 11 inches long, 2 inches wide." A man was stabbed in the arse.

"Suck it." Him to Anderson when they were close in theories, but he turned out to be right.

"Why is it purple, and do I even want to know what is on the wall."A chemical murder.

"Shut up, the genius is speaking." He was hungover at a crime scene

"If I can't legally have drugs, smoking is frowned upon, I rarely get good cases, and I can't committ crimes, what am I supposed to do?"There was a drop in crime and he wss bored.

"If I were a plant, what would I be?" He took a couple too many buzzfeed quizzes.

"Birth is a curse, existence is pain, life is purgatory, and humans are a plague." He had a three-day long migrane.

"Indigo or Vermillion?" He was picking out what shirt to wear one day and asked me.

"Fight me." Him to Mycroft when they were showing off.

"Make me." Him to Mycroft.

"How illegal is it to produce methanphetamines?"He was really bored.

"What's that, why is it sticky, and can I lick it?"Him at a crime scene.

"You are an absolute genius, but at the same time you're an idiot."Him to me while we were at a scene.

"How far up your arse would this umbrella go?" Him to Mycroft.

"Don't make me steal your cat." Him to Molly when she wouldn't let us in the lab.

"How much time would it take to read the dictionary backwards and then from the middle to the outsides?" Once again, very bored.

"Anderson, be still, I might miss and decapitate you."We were seeing how the murderer did it and anderson was the test dummy.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes isn't half as bad as Alexander Mycroft Chad Holmes. Mycroft is a Chad!"A bit tipsy.

"Once we enter this restaurant, my name is Charels and yours is Mason, we have been married for 10 years and it's our anniversary. Put this on." We went undercover for a case.

"If I had a child, their name would be Casey, just so I could call them Case." We were talking about kids.

"I abhor the day I was born."He was sick

"Kiss Greg, Marry John, Kill Anderson." We were stuck in a house so we started playing kiss marry kill with the people in there.

"So I accidentally broke the door… how? Well, there was this guy with a blowtorch." Not sure what happened to this day, we laughed so much that we couldn't breathe.

"What do you mean you can't bring the cello? I need it!" Him to someone over the phone.

"Why are there so many strange insults? What even is a prick?"Drunk off his tits.

"You underestimate just how much I hate myself." We were at a muder/suicide and he described the symptoms and how they did it. We were all worried about him.

"How long will it take for me to drink all of this? I know its embalming fluid!" Him to Molly after a really long case.

"That is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard you say Lestrade!" Greg told him that he and Mycroft were dating, I laughed at him the entire way back to the flat.

So I found the thing I was talking about

#saoirse says things sometimes #sherlock holmes #221b johnlock #sherlock #221b #john watson #cursing tw #this was an old doc so like #ya #original writing #I have no idea where this came from honestly I was just bored

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missdaviswrites · 4 years

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22--Miracle

"Did you mean what you said, the other night?"

"Sorry, what?" John looked up at Sherlock, who had appeared silently in the living room and was now standing next to John's chair.

"When Eurus was here. After."

John blinked at him. "Still not following you."

Sherlock sighed. "You said it would take a lot more than one criminally insane sibling to tear us apart. Did you mean it?"

John lowered the journal he'd been reading, his whole body suddenly gone cold with trepidation. "Do you have another sibling that I don't know about, Sherlock?"

"What? No. I mean, not that I know of, of course. I just mean—" Sherlock took a deep breath. "I know what your feelings are on the matter, but I've thought about it a lot, and I would like it if Eurus were somehow able to maintain a relationship with Rosie."

John took his time folding down the corner of the page he'd been reading and setting the journal aside on the table next to him before answering. "I don't...," he began, and then closed his eyes briefly. "Sherlock, we can't do that to Rosie. We can't put her in harm's way."

"I know, I know." Sherlock fiddled his hands together for a moment and then sat down in his chair across from John, leaning forward on his knees. "I want to protect her, too. But short of keeping Eurus so heavily medicated that she can't move, I don't think there's any way to ensure that she won't ever escape again. And we can't keep Rosie under lock and key, either—she's a teenager now. But I truly don't think Eurus would ever harm her."

John shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Maybe Sherlock was right, and Eurus wouldn't harm Rosie, but then again, she had tortured her older brothers without a second thought, so the label of family was no guarantee of safety. He didn't understand anything about Eurus's motivations, and wasn't even sure he wanted to. "Why did she let herself be caught and returned to Sherrinford so easily?" Eurus hadn't put up a fight when Mycroft's men had shown up to remove her from the flat—she'd lowered her head and put her hands behind her back and let them lead her away without saying a word.

"I don't know," Sherlock said. "At first, I thought it was because she knew she was a danger and wanted to be locked up again, but I think it's more than that. I don't think she's emotionally capable of being free all of the time, and I think she knows it. There's too much data out here—the world is so big that it's overwhelming. I feel that way sometimes, and her intellect is vastly greater than mine. I think she's more comfortable when she's limited to four walls and a pair of guards. She can retreat into her own mind when she's locked up at Sherrinford, and not have to deal with anything else."

John squinted at him. "Are you...jealous? Do you wish you were in her position? So you could spend all your time in your Mind Palace?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Maybe once I would have said yes, when I was much younger, but I know that there's quite a bit of value to be had in the world outside of my own head. Eurus never learned that. She never learned how to live in a world with other people at all."

"So...you're saying Eurus has no idea how she's supposed to interact with other human beings, and yet you want to let her be around Rosie? Sherlock." John tipped his head slightly to one side, looking at him.

"I understand what you're saying, John, but it's complicated. I don't think cutting Eurus off from any sympathetic human contact is the answer. I think perhaps if she hadn't been locked up as a very young child, if she'd instead had access to better mental health care and allowed to maintain some contact with our whole family instead of just Mycroft and Uncle Rudy, she may have ended up with a very different life."

"Like maybe not killing so many people?" John wasn't trying to be light-hearted, but God, this whole situation was frankly ridiculous if he thought about it for too long.

Sherlock pursed his lips, then nodded. "I don't know If she can truly be rehabilitated at this point, and I don't want to see her set free, but I also think she deserves something of a second chance. It's why I've been visiting her all these years."

"I know."

"And she hasn't killed anyone else in that time."

"That we know of," John said. Yes, people could change—Sherlock had, and he himself had, over the years—but he didn't know if that was true of Eurus. "I don't think—"

Sherlock interrupted him. "I'm not proposing that I take Rosie with me to visit her, don't worry. I think Sherrinford would be a bit much for any child to handle, even Rosie. What I'm suggesting is that they be allowed to play together. Rosie on cello, Eurus on violin. We could stay here in the flat with Rosie while they Skyped. They most likely wouldn't even speak to each other—Eurus has currently retreated into her head again, and is likely to remain non-communicative for some time, as she did all those years ago after she kidnapped us. But she still loves to play her violin."

John gritted his teeth together, considering. Sherlock's proposal was not what he'd expected. Was it still risky? Maybe. Eurus didn't need to be in the same room as Rosie in order to influence her. And John was never going to trust Eurus, but he thought Sherlock did, a little, at least, and he trusted Sherlock. They'd always made parenting decisions together, and up until now, they were almost always on the same page. He'd still rather have Rosie know nothing at all about Eurus—truth be told, he'd rather Sherlock have nothing to do with her at all either. Long-lost sister or not, she had still tortured and nearly killed them at Sherrinford. But now that Rosie had met her, she wasn't going to forget about her Aunt Eurus, and Sherlock's idea to have them in contact only through Skype might be the best option. "We could end the video chat the moment we suspected Eurus of anything diabolical?"

"Diabolical?"

"That's what I said." John stared at him, then softened slightly. "All right. We'll try it. If Rosie wants to, of course."

"Of course. I'll talk to Mycroft, see about setting something up for next month, after the holidays."

John nodded and reached for his medical journal again. At least the only relative he had to deal with on his side was Harry. He never would've predicted that one day she would be the family member who caused the least drama. Of course, when it came to over-the-top spectacle and suspense, no one could outdo the Holmes family.

_____________________________

Read all the ficlets here: So This Is Christmas

#2019 advent ficlet challenge #eurus holmes #johnlock #parentlock #rosie watson #wow i'm glad the eurus storyline is done cuz that was way too much for a couple of ficlets

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mystrade-lecroft · 5 years

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Mystrade? 📁📂

Kids!Lock headcanon

--------

Mycroft was obviously an inside kid. Reading every book he can get his hands on and learning about everything he could (and once he became a big brother, teaching Sherlock everything he knew). His mother insisted on her children being expert in musical instruments, so Mycroft learned the piano and cello. He loves to play the piano, but he hates the cello to this day. He also hates being dirty. When his father would try to get him to play outside (hard when you're by yourself), he would oblige for a while but would bathe and change his clothes when he could finally go back inside.

Greg wasn't a rough and tumble kid. He was THE rough and tumble kid. The absolute definition of "boys will be boys." He would run around with his friends outside everyday for as long as he could. Climbing up trees, riding his bike, playing football and rugby and anything else they could think of. And because he moving faster than his feet could keep up, he got hurt a lot. Bruises, broken bones, missing teeth. He was hurt so much, the local emergency room considered giving him his own room.

Send "📁" for a random yet completely useless headcanon I have

You can specify the ship if you want

#i can't believe people are doing this #thank you!#i have so many headcanons #about all of my ships #feel free to ask me about my headcanons #mystrade #mystrade headcanon #kid!lock

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eloquated · 5 years

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Molly Hooper

send me a character + @dlrconlicense

First impression: Oh Molly, I love Molly! Right from the start, she was someone I empathized with, and I wanted to learn more about her. She seemed like the kind of character I could want to spend time with– a bit of normal, amidst all the chaos!Impression now: Molly needs more love. Period. She’s so much stronger than a lot of people give her credit for! We see the show through John’s perspective, and there’s so so so so so much more to her than just the morgue mouse!Favorite moment: When she tells Sherlock that she can see him; and that she knows what it means when people look sad, when they think nobody’s looking. Molly might not have the towering Holmes intellect, but she’s smart, and she understands people.Unpopular opinion: I genuinely don’t think she realized how much Tom was like Sherlock. Not because she’s unobservant, or stupid, but because she was focused on the ways they were different.Favorite relationship: Ummm…. Any combination of Molly, Stephen Strange, and Mycroft and/or Sherlock Holmes! Or all together! Favorite headcanon: Molly plays the cello, and split her undergraduate studies between medicine and music. Eventually, she decided that she enjoyed playing music more than dissecting it, so she focused on Medicine for Masters.

#dlrconlicense #molly hooper #sherlock

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petite-madame · 1 year

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Fan Fictions inspired by my art

You’ll find below fan fictions inspired by some of my artworks. This list doesn’t include Big Bang, Reverse Bang or Fandom Trumps Hate collaborations. All the stories below were written kindly and spontaneously by the authors. ❤ Of course, this list is incomplete, it only includes the most recent fan fictions.

Don’t hesitate to contact me if you ever wrote something inspired by one of my artworks (the ones posted at Petite-Madame, not my side accounts)

List under the cut...

- BBC SHERLOCK

Johnlock (Sherlock Holmes/John Watson)

Morning of Epiphany by Innerspectrum (Sherlock Holmes/John Watson - General audiences - Birthday fluff - 221 words - Sherlock wakes up his normal grumpy self, expecting the usual boredom, until realizes otherwise... ) - ARTWORK

A spoonful of Johnlock by Asterisko (Sherlock Holmes/John Watson - General audiences - Cuddling & Snuggling, sleepy cuddles, fluff, sharing a bed - 440 words - John and Sherlock spooning in bed, from John's and Mrs. Hudson's POV.) - ARTWORK

A Thousand Words by Silvergirl (Sherlock Holmes/John Watson - Mature - The Empty Herse infill - Johnlock freeform - ~ 768 words - Standing there behind the just-closed door of the train, his palm flat against the glass and his face a study in naked sorrow and regret, was Sherlock.) - ARTWORK

Mystrade (Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade)

Cello by janto321 (FaceofMer) (Greg Lestrade/Mycroft Holmes - General audiences - Fluff, domestic fluff - 465 words - Greg comes home to hear Mycroft playing his cello.) - ARTWORK

You are the only one who sees me by Mimisempai (Greg Lestrade/Mycroft Holmes - General audiences - Fluff, established relationship - 1081 words - Greg comes home early from work and surprising Mycroft, he discovers something new about his lover...) - ARTWORK

The music of your heart soothes the wounds of mine by Mimisempai (Greg Lestrade/Mycroft Holmes - General audiences - Emotional Hurt/Comfort, established relationship, tenderness - 1036 words - Greg has only one hurry, being back home with Mycroft. Mycroft, has only one haste it is that his lover comes back to him.) - ARTWORK

Playing in the Dark by InnerSpectrum (Greg Lestrade/Mycroft Holmes - General audiences - Established relationship - Implied/Referenced Character Death - 360 words - Greg awakens to music in the dark house and is reminded Sherlock is not the musician in the family...) - ARTWORK

Misc

Compositions by afteriwake (Mycroft Holmes/Molly Hooper - General audiences - Pregnant Molly Hooper - Dead Sherlock Holmes - Developing Relationship - 654 words - Mycroft is composing a lullaby for Molly and Sherlock's son.) - ARTWORK

- MARVEL

Stucky (Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes)

The Life of Bucky Barnes by Stephrc79 (Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes - Mature - Fluff, angst, recovery Bucky, post CATWS, PTSD, etc...- 292 199 words - The ongoing story behind the pictures from the Instagram The Life of Bucky Barnes.This work is a series of ficlets that tells the story of each picture. As each chapter progresses, it will encompass one or two of the images, how they appear chronologically. These are inspired works for petite-madame with her blessing.) - ARTWORKS

Gold, Silver, and Virtue by Gfawkes (Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes - Explicit - Angst, mutual pining, smut, fluff, suicide attempt, alcoholism, getting back together, happy ending, etc... - 35 664 words - Bucky hesitated, his nerve faltering for a moment. When there was no reaction from the silver-haired man, he unzipped his jacket, wrestling with the dog tags, pulling them out. They clinked together and fell against the zipper; a siren’s calling meant for one man only."This bike belonged to Captain America. So either you’re a very shrewd collector of rare vintage superhero paraphernalia, or you’re hiding something.” In which the Captain doesn't return after the time jump into the past, but he does return to the Soldier.) - ARTWORK

- GOOD OMENS

Ineffable Husbands (Aziracrow - Aziraphale/Crowley)

Falling by sugarplumanderson (Aziraphale/Crowley - General Audience - Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Feels, Comfort/Angst - 2,345 words - An angel is Falling. Aziraphale and the heavenly host are witnesses. Aziraphale can't bear to watch the angel go through this on his own, so he intervenes.) - ARTWORK

#stucky #johnlock #mystrade #fan fictions #myart #ineffable husbands

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barpurplewrites · 5 years

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My OTP is Mystade and the one word prompt is cello

Greg ambled over to Mycroft with a warm, sleepy smile. It hadbeen a stressful week for both of them and it was good to see Myc with hiscello in his hands. Greg put the fresh cuppa on the table by his elbow andpressed a kiss to the top of Myc’s head.

“Morning lover.”

“Good morning darling.”

Mys paused for a sip of tea and then carried on warming up. Gregrecognized snatches of the music he played, all classical. From the sounds ofthings Myc was settling in for a lengthy session of playing. Greg gently pattedhis shoulder and moved to sit on the sofa with his own cuppa. It might beWednesday, but this morning had the feel of a lazy, easy Sunday. He leaned overand picked up his guitar.

For a time, they both worked through some more warm-ups,echoing each other’s chords and notes. When Greg paused to take a sip of his nowcool time, Myc grinned and began to play the William Tell Overture. Greg laughedand put his cup down.

“Oh, you are on.”

Greg joined him in the music. He’d not been sure what toexpect the first time he’d show Myc the YouTube videos of 2cellos. Part of himexpected a typical Holmesian sneer, and a comment about the terrible abuse offine musical instruments. Instead Myc had watched every video twice. A few dayslater Greg had come home to the sounds of Myc playing Iron Maiden on his cello.

Greg had joined him and now it was one of their favouriteways to relax. Playing together, a perfect mix of the musical genres they bothloved. The slide from Rossini to Iron Maiden was smooth. Greg started bobbinghis head and Myc’s foot tapped in time. There were a few bum notes between themthat resulted in fond frowns, but neither stopped playing. They weren’t asenergetic as 2cellos, but all the passion was there.

When they had finished Myc stood up and stretched; “Shall Imake another cuppa?”

“Yes, please love, might be an idea to use the thermal mugs?”

“My thoughts exactly. I think we should try Beethoven’s fifthwhen I return.”

Greg laughed and play a bit of a Whole Lotta Love. This wasgoing to be a wonderful day.

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mizusjawline · 6 years

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If the cast of Sherlock was in an orchestra

Sherlock: 1st Violin of course

Irene Adler: 2nd violin. Winks at Sherlock when she knows he's watching

John: Viola (or second violin maybe)

Idk, I could imagine Jim sitting behind a cello whilst constantly glaring at Sherlock. (He'd look adorable)

Seb would play bass because nobody pays much attention to him except cellos (Jim)

Lestrade would be the conductor because anybody who doesn't play in an orchestra doesn't quite understand why he's important

Scotland Yard is brass and flutes because they kind of operate on a different plane of existence to strings (idk, I play strings so I tend not to pay so much attention to brass)

Donovan is the conductor that nobody likes

Mrs Hudson makes tee for everyone during rehearsal breaks

Anderson doesn't play, wtf is he even doing here?

Mycroft watches rehearsal over CCTV

#Sherlock #headcanon #just random thoughts I had during lunch

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theresawritesstuff · 6 years

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A Love Most Improbable ch. 10

Guess who finally has a little time to write!!! This gal!

Available on Ao3 (posting via phone. Will clean up formatting once I am back from vacation :) Unbeta’d... )

“So that’s it, then. She’s gone,” Mycroft said matter of factly when John told them the news of Molly’s departure.

“It would seem so,” John replied, sitting down beside Mary to rest against the base of the music box.

Mary lay her head against John's shoulder with a wistful sigh. “And we were so close.”

“Serves us right for getting our hopes up,” Mycroft muttered bitterly. “Maybe it would have been better if she had never come at all.”

“Now, Mycroft, I know you don’t truly believe that,” Mrs. Hudson reprimanded. “Molly will come back. I just know it.”

“Perhaps. But will she return before it is too late?” Anthea wondered.

This gave Mrs. Hudson pause, her silence speaking aloud what they all feared. The dejected quiet of the room was soon interrupted by the muffled sound of activity coming from the courtyard.

“Is it her?” John asked hopefully as they all scrambled towards the window.

They peered out to see an angry mob spilling in through the castle gate.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Hudson breathed.

“Invaders,” Mycroft hissed, his eyes narrowed at the throng gathered below. Straightening his posture he turned to them, assuming command. “Mrs. Hudson, warn Sherlock. Everyone else, prepare for battle. If it’s a fight they want, we’ll be ready for them.”

They nodded in reply, turning to set out on their assignments.

“The castle should barricade itself against the attack for a time, but even with the enchantment it will only hold so long,” John said, helping Mary down from the ledge.

“We may not need it to hold long. Just long enough,” Mary mused. “Billy, can you to get me to the lab? I’ve got an idea.”

“Fast as my wooden legs can carry me, Miss Mary,” Billy replied, scooping her up.

“I love it when she gets an idea.” John grinned, hitching a ride on the wooden footman as well.

Mycroft turned from the window as Anthea stretched, the timbers of her form creaking from unuse.

“Are you ready, my love?” he asked gently.

“More than ever,” Anthea replied, determinedly. “It’s about time there was a little excitement around here to keep a lady awake.”

Mycroft smiled softly before turning back to face the window. “Then let’s give them a night they won’t soon forget.”

Mrs. Hudson rolled her cart into the doorway of the west wing as unobtrusively as possible.

“Master Sherlock…” she said gently, announcing her presence.

“Leave me in peace, Mrs. Hudson,” he grumbled from the couch, his massive form curled inward, his back to her.

She frowned sympathetically, but rolled further into the room. “I would, dear...but the castle is under attack!”

He lifted his head slightly, inclining his ear toward the distant commotion outside before laying it back down again.

“Well, aren't you going to do something?” Mrs. Hudson prodded.

“It doesn't matter now,” Sherlock asserted glumly, rolling up off the couch to despondently cross the room, taking up his cello.

“But Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson protested.

“There is only one petal left, Mrs. Hudson. Our time is at its end,” Sherlock informed her, picking up his bow. “Just let them come.”

He began to play, the notes mournful and longing.

Mrs. Hudson huffed out a sigh, watching him sadly. “We will try to buy as much time as we still can.”

Sherlock continued to play, facing the rose on the balcony, not pausing to acknowledge her response as she rolled out the door.

*****

“Put your backs into it, boys!” James commanded, rallying the men beside him as they gave the battering ram another heave against the heavy doors of the castle.

With another mighty blow, the doors gave way, sending the mob stumbling forward into the entryway.

Setting their battering ram down, James lead the way inside.

The villagers grew hush as they took in the eerie stillness of the cavernous foyer filled with an odd assortment of furnishings.

“Dismal looking place, isn't it Eliza?” Angelo commented to the dark haired woman skirting the edge of the group a few paces from him.

She looked about the room pensively, answering him with a shrug before turning her attention to the tapestry on the wall, hanging back from the rest of the crowd.

Kitty, on the other hand, did not hesitate to inspect the table at the center of the room for anything worth pilfering. She leaned over curiously to examine the intricate candelabra on the table; its base depicting a tender moment between a soldier and a young woman.

“Tacky little knick knacks,” she muttered to herself.

“Did you hear that, my love? I do believe she just called us tacky.” The metal soldier turned to his lady love, offended.

“I believe you're right, my darling. We cannot tolerate that,” she said sweetly. She then drew his sword, swinging it to a point right under Kitty’s nose from her place on the table and shouted “Everyone attack!”

Kitty reeled back in shock with a high pitched shriek as the objects around them sprang to life and the room fell into chaos.

Footstools ran about their feet, tripping them as the end tables spat the contents of their drawers in rapid succession into the faces their neighbors.

Across the room, a teapot poured hot liquid from above over the unfortunate heads of anyone standing below, while the cutlery worked in tandem in a feat of acrobatics, catapulting each other towards the crowd.

James’ eyes went wide as he narrowly dodged a punch from the coat rack, pulling one of his cronies in front of him to take the blow instead. As the frenzy heightened around him, he seized his opportunity to slip away and continue the hunt on his own.

Making his way to the far stairwell, he caught sight of a mantle clock adorned in a bicorne hat, brandishing pistols from its perch atop the armoire standing on the landing of the main staircase. He winced at the sound of wood hitting flesh as the armoire batted away any that dared try to ascend further into the castle and quickened his pace up the forgotten steps.

Sherlock stood on the balcony, mournfully watching the horizon.

A sound behind him drew his attention from the snow covered landscape. As he turned, he came face to face with a dark haired man pointing his musket at him from across the balcony, an air of self-righteous confidence about him.

“You must be be the beast,” he commented drolly, cocking his weapon. “Heard a lot about you. The name is James Moriarty. I’ve come to avenge my bride.”

Sherlock blinked, the last few words striking him to the core. He turned back to look out over the horizon. It couldn't be true...

“What's this then? Oh, no. Were you in love with her?”James laughed callously at Sherlock’s pained expression. “How pathetic.”

A shot rang out as a searing pain ripped through his shoulder, the force knocking him forward over the balcony railing onto the rooftop below.

The sheriff jumped down after him in pursuit.

“Did you honestly think she’d want you? When she could have someone like me?” he stalked forward, kicking him to punctuate insult with injury.

Sherlock rolled over with each blow but made to move to get up, resigned to his fate.

“Oh, what's the matter, beast? Too kind and gentle to fight back?” James mocked. “It's almost too easy. Oh well...”

As James aimed his rifle, Sherlock heard a cry from the courtyard below. He looked down. There in the snow was Molly gazing up at him, her golden dress like a beacon in the night.

“Molly?” Sherlock breathed.

The sight of her filled him with a renewed hope, giving him the strength to fight for his life.

He turned and shot out a paw, taking hold of the long barrel of the gun, pushing it away until it was parallel with James’ shoulders between them.

James’ eyes went wide as Sherlock stood to his full height, towering over him. Fear was soon replaced with a look of bloodlust in the sheriff's eyes as they began to grapple with the gun.

*****

A shot rang out through the air as Molly rode through the open wrought iron gate to the castle grounds. Her eyes snapped up at the sound, catching sight of Sherlock as he tumbled from the balcony of the west wing.

“Sherlock!” she cried in agony, urging Toby forward.

She watched in horror as she saw James pursued in attack, his musket glinting in the moonlight as he took aim.

“No! Stop!”

Her heart pounded in her chest as she saw Sherlock look her way, rising to his feet to struggle the gun away from James, sending it careening away onto the lower roof.

Ripping her eyes from the scene, she dismounted and sprinted across the snow toward the west entrance.

Sparks flew from within the castle. The villagers cascaded out of the doors as a trail of gunpowder and assorted pyrotechnics ignited behind them; many with teardrop shaped blades lodged in painful looking, if not fairly benign places on the their person.

Coming to the doorway, the members of the castle celebrated their victory. A soot streaked John embraced Mary, whose metal skirt was now missing a layer, as Mycroft smiled satisfactorily at the disappearing crowd.

“And stay out,” Mycroft commanded, his face held high with pride.

*****

Above, James and Sherlock battled their way along the rooftop, dodging and exchanging blows as they climbed across the wet, uneven terrain of carved stone and shingling.

His musket out of reach, James took up a broken gargoyle, wielding it like a club.

Sherlock fought to wrestle the makeshift weapon from his opponent. Locked in the throws of their struggle, his footing slipped, sending them tumbling to a lower level, the impact of the fall breaking them apart.

Taking advantage of James’ momentary disorientation, Sherlock slipped into the shadows, hiding among the statues that lined the rooftop.

James shook his head and took up his weapon, searching for his foe amidst the darkened roofscape.

“You’ve put up a good fight, I will give you that. But playtime is over. Make no mistake about it, beast. Once I’ve killed you, one way or another, Molly will be mine!” James swung at a promising looking shadow, breaking the head off of the carved marble statue.

Sherlock snarled and pounced from behind, catching James off guard. Knocking the stone club from his hand, Sherlock seized James by the shirt, holding him aloft over the edge.

“Woah, getting a little frisky there,”James gasped, struggling to keep himself up.

Sherlock extended him out a little farther, causing James to squirm. “Alright! Alright! Don't hurt me. I’ll do anything you want. Anything! Just don't hurt me, beast. Please…” James begged.

And in that moment, Sherlock was reminded of his own pleas for mercy so many years before.

Slowly, he brought James back over the rooftop to safety, holding him up at eye level. “I am not. A. Beast,” he growled evenly before releasing him. “Get out.”

Sherlock turned away in disgust as James stumbled back.

“Sherlock!” Molly called out, leaning over the balcony of the west wing above him.

“Molly.” Sherlock smiled at the sight of her.

Determined, he scaled the stone wall of the tower to her, Molly’s hand outstretched to him. His heart soared as he reached the balcony ledge, meeting her warm brown eyes once again.

Awestruck, he extended his arm to gently caress her hair. “You came back.”

She smiled, cradling his arm in her own.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain gouging through his side.

James laughed wickedly as he removed his dagger, now smeared with Sherlock’s blood, preparing to strike another blow.

As he reached back, the stone that held him aloft began to crumble in his grasp. Scrambling for a better hold, his foot slipped, sending James plummeting to his demise.

Molly gripped Sherlock tightly to herself, preventing him from falling as well. With all her strength, she helped him over the railing, easing him softly back to lay on the stone floor.

Sherlock gasped for breath as he gazed up at her, struggling to speak. “You-You came back.”

Molly reached to stroke his hair comfortingly, surprised by the disbelief in his voice.“Of course I came back. You're my friend. We're friends. I couldn't let them…If only I’d gotten here sooner. I tried to stop them Sherlock, I--”

Sherlock shushed her apologies, trying to sooth her, wincing at the effort.“Maybe...it’s better this way,” he managed.

“Don't talk like that. We’re together now. Everything's going to be fine,” Molly encouraged, putting on a cheery tone. “You're going to be fine. I just need to get some pressure on this and bandage you up. You’ll be right as rain in no time, you’ll see.” Molly pressed her hand desperately to his side as she looked about for something to wrap around his middle.

“Molly, please. Just...stay with me,” Sherlock pleaded, removing her hand from his side to hold it to his heart.

“Sherlock…” Molly whispered, tears brimming in her eyes.

A wistful smile crossed his lips as he reached up to caress her cheek, wiping away a fallen tear. “At least I got to see you...one last time.”

His eyes drifted closed as his head fell back against the stone.

“No,” Molly sobbed. “No please. Sherlock, please don't leave me. Come back.”

Behind them, the last petal fell from its stem, fluttering down slowly.

“I love you,” Molly whispered, laying her head on his chest, over his heart.

In its glass shrine, the petal settled and shriveled among the rest collected at the base.

*****

The members of the castle raced inside to tell Sherlock of their victory as fast as their diminished forms could carry them.

“Hurry now. No time to waste,” Mycroft encouraged, climbing the steps.

As he made his way up the third step, John gasped in pain.

“John?” Mary asked worriedly, turning back.

“It’s my leg. It's seized up...I-I can't move it,” he explained.

“Hold on, I’ll pull you up,” Mary offered, coming to his aid.

“Where’s Anthea?” Mycroft wondered nervously.

His eyes fell on Anthea’s frozen form in the entryway. “Oh, no...Anthea, darling.”

“I can't wake her, sir,” Billy said, his voice quavering. “I think something is wrong. I…”

Billy’s voice caught in his throat and his limbs went lifelessly still.

“John…” Mary said worriedly, her limbs stiffening around him as she tried to hoist him up from behind.

“Hop on the cart, dears. You'll be alright. Just a little further and…” Mrs. Hudson encouraged. Her voice faltered as her cart rolled to a gentle stop at the foot of the stairs.

“Mary…” John whispered, turning to meet her eyes as they both faded away to nothing more than metal statuettes.

“No…” Mycroft breathed, turning back down the steps in a futile attempt to help. His wooden body began to spasm, stiffening with each tick of the clock that had become a part of him; his laboured steps soon coming to a halt, frozen in place on the stairs.

*****

“No please. Sherlock, please don't leave me. Come back...I love you.”

As Molly clung to Sherlock’s form, her sobs filling the night air, a hooded figure stepped forth from the shadows, unnoticed.

The dark haired maiden watched as Molly cradled her brother, the repercussions of her deeds laid out before her.

Her expression unreadable, she waved her hand over the rose, dissolving the glass surrounding it and reviving its petals, sending them swirling about on a gust of wind.

The winds grew stronger, whipping Molly’s hair about her face. She sat up as a light began to shine around Sherlock, his body lifting in the air before her.

Molly watched in awe, shielding her eyes as Sherlock levitated in front of her, a blinding light streaming from his limbs.

His wounds closed as fur gave way to flesh, his features shifting and changing amidst the glow and swirling petals.

Slowly, the wind died down, setting him down slowly.

Satisfied with what she saw, Eurus turned and left as quietly as she came, the echo of a soft smile on her lips.

Molly hesitantly reached out a hand towards the strange figure before her, but withdrew it as he began to stir, startled by the movement.

Slowly, he rose to his feet, his back to her. His shirt hung loosely about his tall frame, the lean muscles of his back and arms visible underneath as he moved slowly to inspect the long, elegant fingers of his hands. One of those hands traveled to the crown of soft black curls that covered his head.

Suddenly he turned to face her, meeting her gaze with eyes a strikingly familiar shade of blue-green.

“Molly?” he said hesitantly, his voice a soft, rich baritone.

“Sherlock,” Molly gasped, smiling as she rushed forward to meet him.

A shy smile bloomed across his lips as she reached up to touch his hair, his cheeks, taking in the almost ethereal features of his face. His eyes never left her face as he watched her expression, waiting, hopeful and uncertain.

Molly met his gaze once more, beaming up at him. “It’s you. It’s really you,”she breathed giddily, throwing her arms about him.

She felt him relax against her touch, a contented sigh of relief escaping his lips as his arms encircled her, readily returning the embrace.

Finally, he pulled away enough to look at her, cupping her cheek in his palm as he studied her face.

Slowly, he dipped his head towards hers, his lips hovering above her own before she inclined her face to meet him.

His mouth pressed against hers in a tender kiss as he cradled her to himself reverently, his passion growing as she eagerly returned his affections.

There in the safety of each other's arms, they felt the warms of a new dawn as the sun broke over the horizon, the west wing restoring itself around them.

#sherlolly #sherlolly beauty and the beast au #a love most improbable

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mimisempai · 1 year

Text

You are the only one who sees me

Summary

Greg comes home early from work and surprising Mycroft, he discovers something new about his lover...

Notes

Inspired by this gorgeous fanart by @petite-madame

On AO3

Rating G - 1081 words

Greg whistled as he climbed the stairs two at a time, eager to get home. He shouldn't have been back so early today, but they had finally gotten a good tip on the burglary case and the investigation had been wrapped up faster than expected.

He opened the door slowly so as not to startle his lover.

But when he closed it behind him, it was he who was startled to hear music coming from the back of the apartment.

Violin music. Someone was playing the violin.

Sherlock?

He frowned, wondering why the hell Sherlock was coming to their house to play music.

He silently hung up his coat, took off his shoes and put his bag on the floor before striding towards the source of the music.

His steps led him to Mycroft's office.

Greg slowly approached and saw that the door was slightly open.

He leaned over to look through the opening and could not hold back a gasp of surprise that was muffled by the music.

He muttered wordlessly, "Mycroft..."

Mycroft was playing the cello.

It was from Mycroft's fingers that the notes flowed and echoed against the walls of their apartment.

Greg was mesmerized.

Mycroft did not see him, his eyes were closed, as if transcended by his music, so Greg could observe him to his heart's content.

The profile of his lover's face was outlined by the winter sunlight shining through the window, softening his features. He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and for a moment it was hard for Greg to look away from the muscles moving under Mycroft's skin as he slid the bow across the cello strings.

He hardly dared to breathe, not wishing to intrude on this privileged moment, and leaned silently against the doorframe, continuing to watch and listen. Mycroft looked so free, so himself when he played. It was just him, his instrument and his music. Fascinated by Mycroft's long fingers running over the strings, Greg did not see the moment when his lover opened his eyes and became aware of his presence. It was only when the music suddenly stopped that he realized. He looked up and through the doorway their eyes met, Mycroft's betraying his awkwardness at being caught.

Greg asked softly, "May I come in?"

Mycroft nodded before carefully placing his bow and cello on their stands. Then once Greg had entered the room, Mycroft simply opened his arms and said sheepishly, "I guess the cat is out of the bag now."

Greg smiled back, not sure what to say and took a step forward as Mycroft continued, "You've discovered another of my secrets. It seems I can't hide anything from you as far as I'm concerned."

There was no animosity in his voice, however when Greg approached again, and crouched in front of Mycroft, he couldn't help but apologize, "I'm sorry. If you want I'll go. I understand that this is something you may not want to share. You have a right to your own inner sanct-"

Mycroft shook his head and put a finger to Greg's lips, "No it's not that, or rather, it's not that anymore."

His face softened as he continued, "I used to play because it allowed me to drop the masks, just be me and lose myself in the music for a fleeting moment, and then there was..."

He paused for a moment, as if overcome with emotion, and Greg waited for him to regain his composure so he could continue.

Mycroft raised a hand and touched Greg's cheek gently before continuing, "And then there was you. You, with whom I no longer needed to wear a mask, you, who gave everything and accepted everything from me. Since you, I don't need music to be myself anymore because with you I am. So today I felt like picking up my cello again, just to see what it was like to play just for the sake of playing. For no reason."

Greg leaned his cheek into Mycroft's hand and asked softly, "So what was it like?"

Mycroft smiled as he replied, "It was even better than before."

Greg grabbed Mycroft's hand on his cheek, kissed the palm and uttered, unable to hide the admiration in his voice, "I don't know much about it, but in any case, it was beautiful, from my perspective."

Mycroft smiled, the pleasure of receiving a compliment apparent on his face.

Greg added, "When you play, you look as gorgeous as if you were making love."

He saw with obvious delight Mycroft's cheeks blush slightly. However, the next second, it was he who started to blush when Mycroft retorted, a teasing glint in his eye, "It's only natural, since I was thinking about you."

Then he leaned over and taking Greg's face in his hands, he pressed his lips to his in a tender kiss that lasted a few moments. When they parted to catch their breath, Greg asked softly, "Will you play for me?"

Mycroft seemed to think for a few moments before nodding. He straightened up and Greg went to sit on the floor, against the wall in front of him as his lover grabbed his cello and bow.

When Mycroft was ready, he raised an eyebrow at Greg and asked, "Any particular wish?"

Greg shook his head, "Just let yourself be inspired, play whatever you feel like."

Mycroft nodded, took a long breath, then slid his bow across the strings.

Greg gasped as he recognized the song, the words echoing in his head.

The day we met,

Frozen I held my breath

Right from the start

I knew that I'd found a home for my heart

Beats fast

Colors and promises

How to be brave?

How can I love when I'm afraid to fall

But watching you stand alone?

All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow

During the whole song, his eyes did not leave Mycroft's, who this time did not close them, looking at him intensely. During the few minutes that the song lasted, they communicated their feelings just through the music. Greg marveled at the feeling that Mycroft was including him in his world.

When the last note died on Mycroft's fingertips, eyes in eyes, between them like an invisible thread, the words echoed for a long time.

And all along I believed I would find you

Time has brought your heart to me

I have loved you for a thousand years

I'll love you for a thousand more

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Mystrade masterlist here

#mystrade #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade #mycroft x greg #some fluff as always #sherlock bbc #emotional hurt/comfort #established relationship

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