#please excuse the poor quality and short loops

[debbiechanclub]

[blue-lions-baby]

Operation Confession (Dimitri x Reader) [Ch. 1]

hi!! so sorry for the inactivity! i’ve been super busy preparing for college n stuff, so i didn’t really have time to write anything... but like i also didn’t want to go *another* week of not posting anything so lol

i’ve been working on this fic for almost a month now and as i was approaching the 5000 words mark, i figured it would probably be best to chop it up into more.... manageable sections ^^’ please enjoy~

spoiler-free and pre-timeskip fluff!

~*~

Oh, this was perfect.

Sylvain watched in pure amusement at the scene playing out before his very eyes. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, future king of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, reduced to nothing more than a blushing schoolboy antsy with the love bugs and raging hormones. He weakly disguised his chuckle with a cough when he saw yet another quill snap in the blonde’s hand, most likely in reaction to that adorable pouting face you had put up. You had absolutely no idea what type of effect and the severity of said effect you had on the prince.

Which made it all the more entertaining.

You didn’t mean to-- in fact, you weren’t even aware of the raging feelings Dimitri held towards you.

But Sylvain knew.

And you could bet your ass he was gonna do everything in his power to help his longtime friend man up and confess to the girl of his dreams.

Dimitri’s cheeks, once dusted with only a faint pink, suddenly became a hodgepodge of every shade of red when he realized that was the third quill he broke in this hour alone. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, helplessly looking to his teacher for help.

“Your Highness... Have you broken another quill?” Dedue murmured beside him, concern eminent in his voice. Dimitri looked down at the large splinter running down its side and mentally banged his head against the desk.

“It appears so... I will request a replacement from the Professor.” He muttered back, silently rising to his feet and making his way to the desk up front. He was suddenly stopped on his 4-step journey when Byleth (with a crinkle in their nose and a sigh) redirected their frazzled student to a whole box of spare quills behind the blackboard. Dimitri-- very much aware that this box filled with ludicrous amounts of quills were entirely for him-- bowed deeply to the professor, picked up the feathery thing, and hurried back to his desk.

You looked up from your work to give your eyes a break from their swimming lessons and accidentally made eye contact with the returning prince. You both paused for a split second before you flashed him a heartfelt smile; a gentle warmth kissed the surface of your cheeks and you averted your eyes back to your studies.

A resounding snap reverberated throughout the quiet classroom.

“Dimitri?”

“Y-Yes, Professor?”

“See me after class.”

“Yes, Professor...”

♠ ♥ ♣ ----------------------------------------------------------- ♣ ♥ ♠

While the rest of the class huddled outside the door and watched their house leader write “I will not break another quill” line after line on the blackboard, Sylvain looped an arm around your waist and winked.

“Hey, (F/N). Mind if I steal you for a bit?”

“Um... Sure.” Wary of his skirt-chasing tendencies, you were reluctantly led away from your classmates and into a more secluded part of the monastery.

“This better not be one of your tricks again, Sylvain... I already told you, I don’t like you in that way.”

“Ouch. That hurt.” Sylvain’s lips formed into an exaggerated pout and you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“Nah, this ain’t about me for once. It’s about a certain... someone.” He continued rather vaguely.

“A certain someone? Sylvain, are you sure this isn’t about you?”

“It’s really not, I swear.” He put his hands up in surrender and seeing him genuine for once, you decided to believe him.

“Well, before I continue, I just wanna know if you... y’know.” Sylvain’s eyebrows wriggled very suggestively and a teasing smirk splayed his features. Your heart thundered in your ear, already knowing where this was going.

“If I...?” You whispered, taut fingers knotting the fabric of your uniform.

“Like, like-like anyone?”

Sylvain wished with all his heart that he had some way to capture the look and flood of colors that quickly took hold of your face. He watched in silent amazement as your face shifted from a barely-there pink to strawberry red in a matter of seconds. Gotcha.

“W-Well, I mean--” You took a shaky step backwards and your jaw clenched so tightly you were certain you were gonna chip a tooth. “There is this guy... Wait, why am I telling you this?! It’s none of your business!”

You rammed past the tall male with enough force to almost knock him over as you promptly made your way back to where the rest of your classmates were.

Satisfied with the laughable drop in quality in Dimitri’s penmanship, Byleth finally let the poor male join his classmates outside. His fingers twitched in an unsightly fashion and his wrist throbbed and cricked with every motion he made. He let out a guttural groan, making small, crackling adjustments to his neck and shoulder. The only thing he had left to do today was train, but he’d probably just go ahead and retire to his bed, at least for a little while...

Past the sea of heads crowding around him, he saw a flash of (H/C) streak across his vision, followed shortly afterwards by a head of shaggy red. (F/N)...? What were you doing with Sylvain?

Crippling exhaustion transfigured into searing jealousy and his eyes narrowed at his childhood friend with cold suspicion. Sylvain could easily feel the scorned prince’s hard stare like a knife in the back.

Was he at all fazed? Not in the slightest.

In fact, thought Sylvain as he sidled right up next to you, he wanted to toy with Dimitri’s heart just a little bit more...  

“Excuse me everyone, but I must speak to Sylvain immediately.” He emphasized the last word sharply, gently pushing his way through the crowd. While he brushed shoulders with Ashe and waltzed around Ingrid, he spun around and ended up face-to-face with... Oh Goddess, his legs were turning into jelly.

“Dimitri...? Is something wrong?” You breathed, fumbling with your clammy digits.

“O-Oh!” Said male rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “Nothing, Belov-- (F/N). Please excuse me, but it is imperative that I have a little... talk, with Sylvain.”

He left you no room for response as he quickly latched onto the toothy-grinned noble and practically dragged him away on his heels.

“What seems to be the problem, Your Highness?”

“Let us discuss the issue in my quarters.”

“Your quarters? Oh ho ho.~”

“Stop it, Sylvain. ... We’re here now.”

Dimitri watched Sylvain plop on the edge of his bed, his lips upturned in a carefree fashion. Dimitri lowered himself on his uncomfortable desk chair, his hands anxiously squeezing his kneecaps.

“So what would you like to talk about, Your Highness?”

“It’s about (F/N).” Dimitri spoke resolutely. “Sylvain... I know this will sound nothing short of mad, but--”

“Let me guess. You like (F/N).”

Dimitri’s bodily organs ceased to function; every ounce of blood in his body mutated into sharp, prickling icicles that seized his heart in a snare of terror and dread.

“I-- Wait, how--?”

“Your Highness. No offense, but pretty much everyone knows how you feel about her. You’re not exactly... subtle.”

Dimitri? Not subtle? Even after the extraordinary lengths he went through to make sure you remained ignorant of his true feelings for you? His brain filed through each and every interaction he’s had with you, combing through each word and shaky glance and awkward blush exchanged between either of you. Well, sure, he’s no master of disguise, but he wasn’t that bad... right?

While Dimitri’s thoughts remained in utter chaos, Sylvain coolly continued.

“Hey, about that lil’ act earlier... I was just messin’ with you, Your Highness. (F/N)’s a serious cutie, but I’m really not after her. I swear.” Sylvain winked. “Plus, she doesn’t even like me. She actually told me she likes--”

“WHO?!” Before Sylvain even had time to process-- well, anything-- Dimitri was on his feet rattling the poor noble to and fro, completely forgetting the crippling strength his Crest bestowed him.

“Gah! Stop it! That hurts!” Sylvain cried, trying with all his might to pry Dimitri’s iron grip from his shoulders.

Coherency finally returning, Dimitri immediately unclasped his digits from Sylvain. An expression of apologetic horror shot through his eyes as he stumbled back, back, back against his desk. The chest of both men heaved violently; raspy and hasty apologies slipped out of Dimitri’s lips while pain-stricken groans and a few obscenities raced out of Sylvain’s.  

“I’m so-... I’m so sorry, Sylvain, I-- I’m so, so sorry--”

“Augh, Goddess... You’ve got quite a grip there, Your Highness...” Sylvain chuckled weakly, feeling his skin swell and bruise.

“Allow me to fetch a healer for you!”

“N-No worries... Ugh... Just, I need to talk to you.”

“Sylvain--”

“Please. Seeing you skirt about this issue is far more painful than any bruise you could give me... But I’m not gonna lie, this one comes pretty close.”

Dimitri drew in a deep breath and settled in his desk chair, its wooden legs creaking slightly from his weight. He planted his elbows firmly by his kneecaps and rested his chin on folded hands.

“Lemme ask you a question, Your Highness. Do you truly love (F/N)?”

“Yes.” Dimitri answered unfazed, but suddenly realized the gravity of his response and drooped his eyes towards the floor.

“Then tell her!”

“I... I can’t. I’m afraid I lack the confidence to waltz up to a girl and profess my feelings to her. Especially with what happened to...” Dimitri shivered at the awkwardly painful memory and continued. “Sylvain, what if she doesn’t like me in that way? Then I’d have made a fool of myself in front of everybody. But most importantly, her...”

“Well, since she didn’t tell me exactly who she liked, there’s no surefire way to know...” Sylvain acquiesced. “But I’ve got a real good feeling about this. Trust me! If there’s one thing in the world that I can help you with, it would be something like this.”

“Well, I suppose you’re right...” Dimitri pondered, sighing in defeat. “But regardless of whether she likes me or not, I am unable to simply walk up to her and tell her my feelings. That’s...”

Dimitri trailed off, dejection glossing his pastel blues.

“I don’t deserve someone like her.” He breathed out just above a whisper. Poignancy took hold of Sylvain’s heart after hearing the sincerity in Dimitri’s voice. One look at the despondent royal was enough to tell him how much he believed those words-- how much Dimitri believed that he, a beast stained by blood and vengeance, could never have a beauty as tender and loving as you.

“Hey, come on Your Highness... It’s not fair on your part to be giving yourself so little credit.”

“Sylvain, look at me.” Dimitri cupped his throbbing head in his hands and he growled. “I am a monster. I can not drag someone as pure, lovely, and beautiful as (F/N) into...”

He paused, choosing his next words carefully.

“She deserves someone else-- someone who can bring her true happiness. Someone who’s... not me.”

Sylvain gritted his teeth from the dark and pulverizing atmosphere. Dimitri was spiraling. Further, faster into the void.

“Cheer up, Your Highness!” Sylvain bubbled half-heartedly, desperately trying to reel his friend from the abyss. “You’re a great guy! Hey. Remember when we went out to cull some bandits outta that one village? And some bad guy almost got (F/N)? You managed to swoop in just before that happened! You saved her, Deems. The look of pure adoration and gratitude in her eyes after the battle... It felt good, right?”

“I... suppose.”

“Oh! And remember when (F/N) was having a hard time grasping the concept of that battle formation the other day? Who came in, and spent the rest of their afternoon tutoring her until she could explain why you needed to send the flyers in first?”

“... I did.”

“Yup! And who’s the chivalrous, hard-working leader of the Blue Lions that everyone looks up to?”

“I am.”

“Atta boy, Your Highness! See? You’re a great guy! And the fact that you’re a prince doesn’t hurt your chances either.” Sylvain’s eyebrows danced smugly.

Dimitri’s chest rose and fell in laughter; Sylvain’s eyes lit up like a star. He managed to save him-- at least for now.

“Thank you, Sylvain. I really needed that encouragement. I... I apologize for--”

“No worries, Your Highness. ... I’m just glad I was able to help.” Sylvain clasped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

“Um, Sylvain...”

“Hm?”

“How do I confess to her? Properly?”

Sylvain clapped his hands together and rubbed them gleefully.

“Don’t worry, Your Highness. I’ve got a plan.”

[aurora-australis-tumbles]

I absolutely loved your Phrack short fics, especially the last one with the wedding au! You have a magic touch for modern AUs ;) and reading them brought me a lot of joy!!! If you still take prompts, would you do number 11 for Phrack? :D

Awww, you’re too kind! ❤️Happy to oblige - hope you enjoy it!!

partners in crime au

---

The party was exclusive, extravagant, and already in full swing, with lights, sounds, and the occasional party guest spilling out onto the sidewalk of the sprawling downtown estate.

Across the street, sat in an innocuous and unmarked van, Jack watched and waited for her signal.

It didn’t take long.

A moment later, his comm crackled to life and he sat up a little straighter in front of his monitors at the sound of her voice in his ear.

She was in.

“Excellent work, Jack, not one active alarm along my route.”

“No names over comms,” he reminded her.

“Yes, yes,” she sighed. “Code names only, ludicrously formal though they may be. This isn’t my first rodeo.” Jack rolled his eyes and waited for the inevitable follow up meant to fluster him. “That was with Ronaldo.”

And there it was.

“Yes, thank you, Miss Fisher. Are you past the guard yet?”

“Not yet. Hold please.”

Jack tapped his fingers on his knee. She was fine, would be fine, was always fine. But he couldn’t help being a little nervous every time anyway.

The sound of her giggles filled his ears. Oh, so she was going for drunk and lost. A classic.

“Excuse me, I seem to have gotten turned around. Is this the ladies’ room?”

“This floor is off limits, ma'am, please return to the party.”

“I just need it for a — oh, that’s all muscle there, isn’t it?” Phryne giggled again, then her voice turned breathy. “Are you sure the party can’t be right here?”

The guard’s voice remained surprisingly flat. “Ma'am, I’m really going to have to ask — ”

WHACK

Jack jumped in his seat at the sound of Phryne’s knee colliding with the man’s groin.

From seduction to judo in three seconds flat; if THAT didn’t sum her up he didn’t know what did.

Jack heard a few more hits, followed by silence.

“Past the guard,” she informed him cheerfully.

“Yes, I heard,” he replied. “Poor fellow. I didn’t realize anyone was immune to your charms. We should have him studied for science.”

“It happens.” He could almost hear her elegant shrug. “Brain injuries are common with hired goons. Plus, he had it coming — he called me ma'am. Twice!”

Jack bit back a laugh and carried on as professionally as he could. “First lock?” he asked.

“Electronic keypad. I’m holding the reader up to it now — do your magic, Jack.”

“No names over comms,” he reminded her, fingers flying across the keys as he broke the lock from across the street.

“Thank you, darling. Laser grid off?”

“Lasers off, camera looped,” he confirmed. “You’re all clear to the last door.”

“How’s our party crasher?” she asked conversationally as she made her way down the hall and to their prize.

“Still on my scope. I cleared her route as well, obvious though it was: she came in through the window while you were tangoing with security.”

“In through the window? That sounds exhausting.”

“Rookies,” he lamented mildly. “I have her on the monitor now. She’s wearing some kind of extravagant polka dot dress, no doubt to blend in with the party for her escape, and trying to figure out how to dismantle the display case the coins are kept in without setting off the alarm.”

“Polka dots? With this crowd? Rookie indeed,” Phryne tsked sympathetically.

“How did you find out about her anyway?”

“She went to the Red Raggers for equipment and they told me. Said it seemed like a job right up our alley. Oh! Perhaps we should have asked them along.”

“Uh, no thanks. This job hardly required a small and unbearably surly army, Miss Fisher.”

“They’re never surly with me,” she teased him.

“Yes, I am aware it’s personal, thank you. Are you at the door yet?”

“Just arrived, Jack.”

“No names over — ”

“Yes, yes, I know. Picking the lock now.” He heard her expertly moving her tools in the tumbler, a reassuringly familiar sound by now. “You know, I was just thinking...”

“Well that never bodes well for me.”

“Don’t be like that, darling; this is personal, not professional.”

“Equally dangerous.”

“Mmmmm,” she agreed with a smile he could hear in her voice. “Anyway, I was wondering… do we really need to return the Columbian emeralds right away?”

“They belong in a museum, Miss Fisher.”

“Of course. And we’ll return them, absolutely. It’s just… I was thinking I might model them for you first.”

“Were you then?” With no one else in the van, Jack didn’t even try to hide his smile at the idea.

“Oh yes. And do you know what they go best with?”

“Justice?”

“My green Jimmy Choos and a smile.”

The image was too much, and Jack groaned.

“Phryne….”

“No names over comms, Inspector,” she whispered gleefully just as the last tumbler slid into place. “And I’m in.”

Jack bit back a curse at being played so thoroughly and checked his monitors instead. The security feed from the mansion was hardly HD quality, but he could plainly see the young woman who was already in the residence’s antiquities room jump when Phryne entered.

“Hello!” Phryne greeted brightly.

“Stand back!” the young woman cried. “I have a weapon!”

“You have a spanner, dear. Which could be a weapon, but you’re holding it all wrong to do any real damage to anything except a lug nut.”

The woman took a step away from the display case and swiveled her head nervously between the open door and the window she’d come in through. Finally she turned back to Phryne, shoulders set firmly.

“Before you take another step, you should know — Gerald McNaster stole this Spanish doubloon from the people of Peru!”

“Of course he did. That’s why we’re here to help you get it back to them.”

“You’re… I’m sorry, I’m confused. Who are you?”

“Darling... we’re the calvary.”

“We?”

“My partner and I. He’s in the van.”

“Oh. I… I’m confused.”

“That’s understandable, but we’re a bit pressed for time so why don’t I explain on the way?”

“Oh. Ok. My name is — ”

“Only code names over comms, dear, the Inspector is ever so strict about that, provided he’s not incredibly turned on.”

“Miss Fisher!”

Phryne winked and blew a kiss to the security camera before turning back to the woman. “Anyway, I love your dress. Let’s call you Dottie.”

“... ok.”

“Excellent! Inspector, fire up the van, we’ll be coming in hot.”

“As you wish, Miss Fisher. Be careful.”

“I always am.”

Dottie looked confused. Jack didn’t blame her.

“How are we leaving?” she asked.

Phryne took the spanner out of Dottie’s hand and gestured with it to the outer wall. “Out the window. Terrible way in, wonderful way out. I assume your rigging is still attached?”

The woman nodded.

“Perfect.”

“But the rope’s too short for both of us,” Dottie noted. “What will we land on?”

“The van of course. Shall we?”

Jack heard the sound of breaking glass, followed by sirens — so much for disengaging the display case’s alarm — and started the engine, already moving into place under the window.

A soft thud a moment later was followed by her head poking into the driver’s side window.

“Hello Jack!” she grinned at him.

“Hello Phryne,” he replied, stealing a quick kiss as he did — he was a thief after all.

The two women climbed down and into the van, and Jack sped off into the night, his mind on Columbian emeralds, Jimmy Choos and smiles.

| Short Fic Ask |

[colorofmymindposts]

The Deviance of Two English Gentlemen Chapter Three

Chapter Title: The Unyielding Interim

Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (Ritchie films)/Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mary Morstan/John Watson Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mary Morstan Rating: Teen and Up Status: Incomplete, chapters are posted weekly Word Count: 1514 for this chapter, 4291 for the entire work thus far Summary: Set post Game of Shadows. When Sherlock Holmes is given a case by none other than Mrs. Watson, he has no idea that he cannot fix the unsolvable for the couple. Intimate truths are exposed in the process, leaving all three irrevocably changed. Tags: Case Fic, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Secrets, Bickering Notes: The entire work can be read here on ao3. You can also read chapter one here and chapter two here. Note that this is not Brit-picked, but I tried my best.

Story:

The next two weeks passed in such an odd succession that Holmes began to wonder whether he was indulging too much in the comfort of his seven percent solution. After that first night, Watson had not come down for many hours, not until late afternoon, all dressed in clothes appropriated from Holmes’ wardrobe, though neither of them addressed the subject. He had given a curt thanks and goodbye before departing.

The next time Watson deigned it worthy of his time to visit, Holmes had just finished conducting his experiment on the potency of various chloroform formulas. When Watson burst into his rooms, unannounced, he scolded Holmes for not leaving the flat in a span of time which had lasted four days apparently. In a fit of frustration, Watson left in search of food, insisting Holmes was going to “lose half a stone at this rate” if he continued in his totally reasonable, reclusive behaviours. Later, they chatted over dinner about the day’s newspaper, Holmes’ findings in the last seventy-two hours of intense dedication to the differences between trichloromethane and ether while Watson contributed an anecdote here or there about an unruly patient in the clinic.

They did not talk about Mary. They also did not speak of Watson’s domestic, precipitating him to storm off and drown his sorrows in cheap ale. Holmes had suspicions, however, even if he didn’t voice them.

One possibility was infidelity. “Three continents Watson” would imply to a simpleton that he was dissatisfied in marriage, but Holmes knew his Watson better. A man as loyal as he, who followed Holmes into the thoroughfare of the European criminal underworld with revolver in hand and no questions asked, would not be a husband who would lie with another woman. Especially not when Watson was clearly enamored by his Mary’s charms and said wife was understandably in love with Watson, a phenomenon Holmes could not explain but inherently knew was truth.

The second situation was problems with money, hypothetically. For some unknown reason, Watson had adopted a rather Draconian ideal of finances and women’s place within that (being nonexistent) much to Holmes’ chagrin, particularly as he knew undoubtedly Mrs. Watson would manage transactions far better than that gambling boy. But for such a violent reaction to occur those six nights ago, when Holmes had repeatedly criticized Watson’s handling of his funds in the past, this hypothetical seemed, just as the previous one, highly unlikely.

The third scenario Holmes could not feasibly wrap his head around without feeling prone and ill inside. Simply put, the consummation of marriage...was known to have its difficulties. The desired product of a match between man and wife as desired by a Christian God would only solidify the reality of Watson’s world apart from Holmes’ own isolated one, never again to amalgamate together but at short, infrequent intervals. If this were really the case though, some kind of disagreement had brewed between the Watsons, interrupting idyllic sentiment leftover from honeymoon bliss. The baseness of sex could very well have that effect on a standard English gentleman and lady.  

Watson’s eyes had been upon him for some time, he could tell. He met his friend’s gaze head-on, finding concern and something else indescribable mingled in between. Upon reflection, he should make a study of Watson’s eyes, if nothing else than for his private records.

“You haven’t spoken in two hours,” Watson remarked casually.

Holmes blinked rapidly, readjusting to the settings. Seated in his chair, tea gone cold. Disposed of his waistcoat, Watson slouched in what was once his designated chair, brown suspenders rolling off his shoulders slowly but surely, his top button undone. Thoroughly distracting. Holmes sniffed the air.

“Have you been smoking?” He inquired, recognizing the scent as that of a Cuban cigar circa 1889, approximately.

“Yes, I thought it might make you more alert. I fear it may have made you fall deeper into that stupor of yours you just came out of,” Watson admitted as his fingers idly tapped against the cigar resting in the ashtray on the table. “What has addled your brain so?”

“Watson, you know my methods. My periods of introspection provide clarity to my work. My thoughts are in perfect working order.”

“Mhmm,” he hummed back. After straightening his braces, Watson began to loop his arms through his coat previously draped across the back of his chair. “Perhaps I should leave you to your thoughts, in that case.”

“Back home again?” Holmes mused.

Watson, as ever, corrected him. “To Mary.”

Perhaps the lovers’ quarrel was not as serious as he supposed at all. Nonetheless, he felt he had to offer: “My door is always open.”

An affirming smile answered him with a quality of sadness to it, the only thing preceding Watson’s familiar tread on Baker Street.

Another week was to be endured before Watson’s presence graced him once again. In this particular instance, Watson seemed more at ease. He suggested to Holmes that they go for a stroll in the city. Watson always liked it when Holmes would make and share observations of passersbys, one of their favourite activities to engage in from the earliest point in their friendship. If Holmes himself was in worse spirits he would have refused such a triviality, but knowing it might help his friend, he acquiesced cordially to the offer, fortunate enough to still spend time with the man as he was.

There was nothing out of the ordinary at first. An oversized clerk bumbled down Manchester Street obviously having taken too late a lunch break; an older American couple conversed loudly about the spectacles and filth of London to distract from the all too personal topic of the wife’s dying father; a paperboy shouted the newest headlines, limping as he did so due to a factory accident which likely cracked most of the bones in his left foot that never healed properly. Watson smiled along to most of these descriptions but frowned at the last, almost bent on offering his services to the boy, but by Holmes’ observations the accident had occurred years ago and no doctor’s attention would help him now.

At last, they reached Hyde Park, a perfect spot for observation of both animals and nature alike. As it was a Sunday, many families were out and about, relieved to send their children to attend to their own amusements. Their shrill cries and laughter was certainly no symphony to Holmes, but Watson appeared slightly perturbed, glancing at his fob-watch for the time and requesting that perhaps they roam somewhere else. Holmes himself was growing tired of this charade his friend was putting on and scoffed loudly.

“Really, you could just tell me that you prefer the company of your wife to my own, and we’d be done with it,” he ground out, kicking his one boot against the pavement as he did so.

“What?” Watson had the audacity to appear flummoxed. His attempts at treating Holmes with decency were driving the detective mad.

“I know you’re inventing excuses to be around me now that you’re married and yet still feel obligated to maintain our partner—pardon me, friendship,” explained Holmes, in a manner not unlike when he told Lestrade off for one of his idiotic theories. “But you’re bored because there are no cases for me to amuse you with, so you’re regretting the whole outing. I’d prefer that you just be honest with me instead of relying on me to deduce it for the both of us.”

He refused to look Watson in the eye after his statement and proceeded down the footpath without his friend in tow. It thus surprised him as he was about to turn out of the park when running footfalls made their distinct approach. Watson’s all too familiar ragged breaths were there behind Holmes, on his neck, and then he was being spun around by his shoulders, Watson having a firm grip on both his arms and a dazzling intensity in his gaze.

“For once Holmes you have no idea what you’re driving at, but my problems with Mary actually have nothing to do with you this time. I can’t explain. It wouldn’t be right to you or Mary—”

“Sirs!” The voice of a young lady, no older than in her twenties with a crying babe in her arms. “Please, if you’ve anything to spare good sirs, my child’s life be saved. You’re honorable gentlemen, fathers? Think of the poor children, gentlemen.”

Damn her timing, just as he was getting something out of Watson. Though much as Watson’s readers of The Strand might have insisted otherwise, he was not heartless.

“3 shillings, madam,” he said as he withdrew the change from his pocket into her grateful outstretched hand, pins and pricks visible on her fingertips. A factory seamstress then, paid a pittance for her work.

She issued great thanks, politely scurrying away in the opposite direction from whence they came. He likely would have mused more on her upbringing, physicality and motivations too, had Watson not suddenly fallen out of consciousness into his arms, helpless as a babe.

[stevepatricklewis]

Badass Boxing for fat loss-Workout

Badass Boxing For Fat Loss-Workout

Boxing to lose fat is a great idea and the test of time has stood on that. Boxing has been around for hundreds of years and is now commonly used solely for work out. Gone are the days when boxers themselves were the only people who would use boxing for the exercise. We have seen the massive benefits associated with boxing exercises having high intensity and anaerobic nature. This is particularly important when you're using fat loss boxing. Training at high-intensity intervals is one of the best ways to burn fat and to boost your health to new levels. You can do a great workout in less than 30 minutes or if you want to train with a partner you can both do it in less than an hour. Since most of us are poor in time these days, it is very important to be able to get high-quality workouts done in a short time. You will be much more likely to stick to the plan if you don't have to spend hours practising to see results. Also if the exercises aren't boring like most typical fitness style workouts, then you'll be looking forward to doing it and not making excuses as to why you can't exercise today. Boxing does tick these two points off the list as the workouts are short, intense, fun and deliver quick results. One approach I like to use is to use the' Tabata Protocol' while boxing for fat loss. It basically involves doing very hard exercise for eight rounds of 20 seconds, followed by a 10 second rest. 20 On, 10 Off, 8 Off. Sounds easy enough but the crucial and often overlooked point when people implement' tabatas' is that they need to do the 20 seconds of work or exercise with a maximum effort. That means you'll need to recover all that 10 seconds and chances are it won't be enough rest before you move on to the next round. If you get through the loops, and you can easily hold a conversation, you're not working hard enough! Heck you really shouldn't have enough time to even think about it! If you wish to use fat loss boxing, try this quick workout: 20 Seconds: Jab, Cross, Jab, Right Uppercut 10 Seconds Rest 20 Seconds: Jab, Cross, Jab, Right Hook 10 Seconds Rest 20 Seconds: Jab, Cross, Left Upper Cut, Right Uppercut 10 Seconds Rest 20 Seconds: Jab, Cross, Jab, Cross 10 Seconds Rest 20 Seconds: Jab, Cross, Jab, Right Uppercut followed by 4 shuffles 10 Seconds Rest 20 Seconds: Jab, Cross, Jab, Right Hook followed by 4 shuffles 10 Seconds Rest 20 Seconds: Jab, Cross, Left Upper Cut, Right Uppercut followed by 4 shuffles 10 Seconds Rest 20 Seconds: Jab, Cross, Jab, Cross followed by 4 shuffles 10 Seconds Rest That'll take you four minutes and get your heart rate up to incredible levels! If you are doing this exercise with a friend on the mats, change gear and repeat for 30 seconds. You're going to need a few rounds to heal but after four minutes your partners should be ready to box again. Four rounds each of these will be more than sufficient to get all the benefits that fat loss boxing can deliver. Please note that this post contains affiliate links and any sales made through such links will reward me a small commission – at no extra cost for you   Read the full article