#sher sparkles

[sparklesking]

A note comes in, written in purple pen ink.

It simply reads "Hiya Sher!!!!! :) -Lance"

(@sweetkittendreaming)

Sher looked at the note he grabs his pen and replies back "hey lance!"

[edd-ska]

The shers are attacking oh no!

Featuring Sher Bingham, Sher Cartman, and Sher sparkles

Trust me I’m bored I will post Art soon so be prepared:p

[hmvw2015]

Star's hippie outfit is so cute!!!

It's from the SVTFOE lost pilot:

[imeternallylove]

Secret - S.Holmes; part nine

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Genre: purely angst, upcoming age and some smut

Warning: none

Word: 4.2k

main mastetlist  | request & ask | prompts | theme song

Chapters index

prologue | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen | epilogue

Sherlock could feel his heartbeat thumping against his chest, loud and rapid, as he manoeuvred his way between the chairs towards you and a shy Zoe. He'd never felt this nervous for anything in his life, to be honest, and compared to anything that had happened in his life, he'd never felt this high strung. He didn't want to mess this up since his daughter was too important to him, and here was his chance to make up for the years he'd lost.

He made a pleasant introduction, trying not to let his anxiety show through his voice. He gave his daughter a bright grin, hoping it would provide her some consolation. His stomach, on the other hand, was performing somersaults.

“I’m your dad.” 

It felt strange to refer to himself as a father in such a literal sense. He was used to jokingly referring to himself as a father to his supporters. Calling himself Zoe's father was serious business, and he wanted to make sure he did everything he could to worthy the title.

Sherlock's heart swelled when Zoe revealed herself from her hiding location at the base of your neck, looking up at him with huge brown eyes. "It's nice to meet you, too," she said quietly, extending out a little hand for him to shake.

He reached out and gently shook his tiny fingers around hers. "Your mummy told me that you're secretly a princess," he added, flashing his gaze up to you and winking before crouched a little and came face to face with Zoe. "So I went out and bought you a little present that only princesses are allowed to have." He'd spent the entire day looking for the ideal gift to help bridge the gap between you two.

It was successful. Zoe raised her head and released her grip on you. "A present?" She asked, a small smile forming on the corners of her lips.

"Do you want to come see?" Sherlock responded by moving to the side and holding out his hand for her to take. He caught his breath and locked his lips in a smile as he waited for Zoe to agree to accompany him.

Sherlock let out a quick exhale and felt a flood of relief rush over him, soothing his anxiety just a little. With Zoe standing on her own two feet, she put her little hand into his and followed him to the table in the centre where he'd left the present. He helped her into one of the seats and sat next to her, sliding the gift box over to her.

With sparkling and delighted eyes, she removed the bow and lifted the lid, displaying the pale blue Cinderella gown he had chosen earlier. "Oh wow! "It's Cinderella's gown!" She yelled loudly as she climbed up onto her chair. She took out the dress and pressed it against her body. “Look! Mummy! "A real princess gown," she said as she turned to show you the gown.

You were standing a bit back, arms crossed across your chest, carefully watching the situation between Sherlock and his daughter. "It's very pretty, Zoe!" you exclaimed, the corners of your lips curling upwards in a huge smile. "Make sure to always say thank you," you cautioned. 

Zoe smiled as she returned to her father. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She yelled, jumping awkwardly on the chair. "Can I put it on now?" Her glance shifted between Sherlock and you, wondering who she needed permission from.

Sherlock didn’t think he had any liberty to give Zoe what she wanted so he looked over at you expectantly.

Sighing softly, you unfolded your arms and approached the table. “Let’s go to the toilets and put it on,” you told her with a little smile, taking her hand so she could jump down safely.

“I can do it myself,” she cried loudly, “I’m a big girl mummy!” Then she skipping off the toilets by herself and leaving you and Sherlock in uncomfortable silence.

You hesitated for a moment, gazing at the floor and then the table before ultimately taking a seat in front of Sherlock. "You didn't need to do all of this," you said quietly, your gaze scanning the deserted children's café. "What did you do? Buy the café?" You laughed quietly until you caught Sherlock's gaze and frowned at his solemn face.

“I only rented it for the evening,” he justified, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “I thought it would be a better way to get to know her, without crowds and other children getting in the way.” In the back of his mind, he was wary of people recognising him, posting things online and attracting unwanted attention when all he wanted to do was get to know his daughter. The media was an unfortunate part of his life: he didn’t want to expose Zoe to it too.

A warm smile crept up on your face and brightened up the whole room for Sherlock. “Just be your normal crazy self and make sure you drink all of your pretend tea,” you joked, dropping your head to hide your laugh behind your hair.

Suddenly, Zoe made an appearance from the corridor that led to the toilets with the dress stuck over her head. “Mummy!” She whined, jumping up and down impatiently. “It’s stuck!”

All Sherlock could do was sit back and watch as you jumped into action and hurried over like a caring mother. Would he ever be as good a father like you?

You sat back pushing a warm mug of tea between your fingers, watching Sherlock chase your daughter around the soft play area with a big smile on your face. It was a sight you never thought you’d get to see -your daughter and her father laughing and playing together. It made you feel stupid that you had been so worried. The pair of them were already as thick as thieves. 

They’d had a big tea party with Mr Snuggles. Sherlock heeded your warning and drank all of his pretend tea, however he also stole the last pretend cupcake which made Zoe sulk until he asked one of the workers at the café for a special chocolate doughnut. Then they played around in the ball pit, burying each other with balls, hiding at the bottom of the pit and jumping out loudly, throwing the balls at each other until he surrendered and admitted defeat. Now they were climbing through the maze of tunnels and shooting down the slide together.

You however were happy to just sit at the side and watch the whole thing from afar. Zoe was having so much fun and yes, you wanted to be a part of it but this was Sherlock’s time. This was his moment to forge that bond with his daughter that you already had from raising her for five years.

However, you realised how late it was and although he could play all night (you remembered that part of him vividly), Zoe’s bedtime was creeping closer. And no one liked a tired Zoe. 

Finishing your tea in one big gulp, you got to your feet and leaned over the safety fence just as Sherlock and Zoe came giggling down the slide together. “Zoe, can you find Mr Snuggles? It’s nearly your bedtime,” you told her as a matter of fact, preparing yourself for the mini tantrum that would follow.

“But, MUMMY!” She wailed dramatically, collapsing to the floor with a pout on her lips. “I’m not even tired. Can’t we just stay for half an hour more?” She looked up at you with her big brown eyes, pleading you for a little bit longer.

However, this wasn’t your first rodeo. “You can ride the slide three more times but then I want you and Mr Snuggles by the door ready to go, ok?”

Zoe was quickly smiling and scrambling to her feet. “Can daddy come too?” She asked, wrapping her arms around her father’s waist and clearly taking him by surprise. “Pretty please! I really want him to read me a bedtime story.”

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you lifted your eyes from Zoe’s pleading eyes and found the same twinkle in Sherlock’s. He was looking at you with the same hopeful look he used to give you many times at school. You struggled to say no back then (that’s probably how Zoe came to be) and now they were both using the same look, worming their way into your heart and destroying any resolve you had left.

“Only if you promise to go straight to sleep afterwards,” you answered, giving her your best stern look. 

“I promise,” she squealed excitedly, holding out her baby finger for you to link with yours. Then she sped off back through another tunnel to hopefully find Mr Snuggles. 

Sherlock was staring at you with a bright smile, his face glistening with a thin layer of sweat. “Thank you for this,” he said quietly, dabbing the back of his hand across his forehead. “It really means a lot to me.”

“I never wanted to deprive you of a relationship with Zoe,” you replied honestly, offering him a weak smile of your own. “But now that you’ve made one, it’s up to you not to break her heart.” The last thing you wanted was for Zoe to be sat waiting for Sherlock when he was off being an detective. He was a father now too and that meant he had a responsibility to his daughter as well.

“Never,” he murmured softly, picking your hand up from your side and squeezing it tight before going to find Zoe …All the while leaving you with a pounding heart and a head filled with dizzying emotions.

Sherlock was an expert at bedtime stories. He gave all the characters their own special voices, reading the words dramatically with the all the emotions necessary – a true performer. Zoe loved it too, smiling and laughing as he revealed that the dragon had learnt how to breathe fire all by himself. With a loud roar into the air, he dropped the book on his lap and turned his attention to Zoe, tickling his nimble fingers up and down her sides.

Sensing that Sherlock was probably going to get your daughter all hyped up again, making it harder to get her to go to sleep, you peeled yourself off from your spot on the doorframe and stepped in. “Ok little one, time to say goodnight to your daddy,” you told her firmly, turning off the big lamp in the corner.

In the faint hue of Zoe’s nightlight, you watched Zoe throw her little arms around Sherlock’s waist tightly. “Can we play again soon, papi?” She asked innocently, looking up at him probably with the same puppy dog expression she used on you.

Sherlock was stunned at the spot for a moment, taken aback by Zoe and her words, you too, you're frozen by the surprise of 'papi' that Zoe had just named her father.

They're so boned, it's hard to believe it's only half a day. And it's made every bone in your body ache that you were harm them by kept them away from the truth so many years.

“Of course,” he replied instantly, smoothing her hair back off her face and cupping her cheek with his gentle touch. “I will look at when I have a day off and we will go and do something fun,” he promised, flashing his brilliant smile.

This was exactly what Zoe wanted to hear as she buried her face in his chest and squeezed him in her tightest hug. “Goodnight… papi,” she murmured shyly, letting go quickly and hiding her face behind Mr Snuggles.

It was cute to watch the dumbfounded expression on his face before he snapped back to reality and got up from the bed. “Sleep tight, little one,” he murmured softly, stroking his hand through her hair and then stepping back.

Tucking your hair behind your ear, you pulled Zoe’s blanket up to her chin and moved Mr Snuggles to the side so you could see her face, kissing each of her rosy cheeks. “What are you going to dream about tonight then little one?” You asked, crouching down by the side of her bed.

Zoe pursed her lips and wiggled them from side to side cutely. “Papi, mummy and me riding unicorns along a rainbow,” she answered after a second of deliberation, making sure Mr Snuggles was under the covers too.

“It sounds magical,” you told her softly, giving her a warm smile as she closed her eyes and then dimming her nightlight. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

When you stood up, you noticed Sherlock staring at you with a piercing gaze and the corners of his lips drawn up. You gave him a puzzled look, hoping to figure out what he was thinking, but he shook his head and led the way out of Zoe's room. After gently closing the door, you turned to Sherlock, suddenly worried about just the two of you. "Do you want a cup of tea?"

"That would be nice," he gently said. It seemed overly courteous, as if Sherlock was trying too hard. You didn't like it, but it was almost certainly your fault. You lied to him, which most likely spelled the end of your friendship. The only reason he was staying was for Zoe.

You walked by him into the kitchen and turned on the kettle, opening cupboards to make two mugs of tea. Meanwhile, Sherlock was leaning against your breakfast bar, his gaze darting about your modest flat. "It's a nice place you have here," he said gently, seeking to strike up a conversation.

"It's a lot smaller than the place we lived before, but it's cheaper," you shrugged, trying to recall where you hid the sugar when you spotted Zoe sprinkling it on her cereal that morning.

Sherlock turned around to face you in the kitchen, leaning across the counter. “Were you living with your dad all this time?” He asked, propping his head up on his elbows while he watched you move around the kitchen.

You shook your head, laughing quietly to yourself. "Oh boy... he actually kicked me out when he found out I was pregnant," you said, peering up through your hair to see his mouth widen in surprise. "He didn't want anything to do with me or Zoe and still don't. I moved in with my grandfather, who took care of us by helping me acquire a job with the local newspaper and financially supporting us. I'm not sure where we'd be without him." You spotted the sugar concealed in the cupboard with the saucepans after flipping your hair back out of your face.

As you brushed past the breakfast bar, Sherlock caught your hand and interlaced his fingers with yours, freezing you in your step. “That must have been so hard for you,” he acknowledged quietly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles before he let you go. For a second, your head felt dizzy and scrambled. You expected Sherlock to be angry still that you didn’t tell him anything when you were pregnant, but instead he was sorry for you?

“I like to think Zoe was worth it,” you responded, spooning some sugar in into your tea just as the kettle came to the boil. “Waking up to her smiling and laughing made the days easier.” You stirred the water in and passed the mug to Sherlock, remembering that he liked his tea a certain way.

“What was she like as a baby?” He inquired curiously, swirling the tea bag around before leaving it to sink to the bottom of the mug. “Do you have any photos?”

Taking your tea with you, you moved into the living room and started rooting around in the drawers underneath the TV. “I have an album somewhere,” you muttered quietly, eventually finding it at the bottom of the drawer. You sat next to him on the sofa, an awkward and unnatural gap between the pair of you. “I scrapbooked everything,” you justified sheepishly, sliding the album into his lap.

He opened up on the first page and it was like a wave of nostalgia hit you straight in the face. You’d attached your first ultrasound picture of Zoe, along with her hospital band and photos your grandfather had taken of you both at the hospital. Sherlock looked at them with his mouth completely open, his eyes filled with wonder as they traced over the photos with such focus.

“She was so small,” he marvelled, dipping his head closer to the album to have a look. 

You laughed, thinking back to Zoe’s painful birth through a cloud of drugs. “Still big enough to hurt,” you retorted, taking a large gulp of tea while he moved to the next page. 

In the six years of Zoe’s life so far, you had documented everything you could, from the first time she ate a mushed up banana and managed to get the majority of it in her hair, to the first time she stood up without holding onto anything and then fell straight on her bottom with an audible thud. Every first, every last, you tried to capture each memory. 

And as you watched Sherlock flick through the pages, studying each photo with pure amazement on his face, you realised that unconsciously you may have been making this album for him, for the moment when he found out about his daughter and wanted to see what he missed.

“Where’s this from?” Sherlock questioned, tilting the album in your direction and pointing at a single photograph.

Placing your tea on the coffee table, you moved closer to him for a better look, almost brushing up against him, once again of his elegant aftershave and his smell was touched your nose.

The photo he was pointing at was one of you and Zoe at the peak of a mountain surrounded by beautiful pink flowers. “Chiangmai, Thailand,” you told him, already smiling at the memories of your hike to the top of the mountain. “I think Zoe was three and she said she wanted to go somewhere she could touch a rainbow so I decided to fly over there, we to the peak one weekend.”

Your fingers traced over the photo of you with Zoe in her harness on your back, in front of a million pink flowers and the clear pale blue sky. “I really wished I had taken my paints that day. The scenery was so perfect; it would have made a great painting,” you mused quietly.

“You haven’t given up on painting, have you? You were so talented at school,” Sherlock exclaimed dramatically, making you jump a little and look up at his handsome face.

His eyes were the first thing you noticed, warm light ocean orbs that drooped in the edges like a little puppy. His dark hair was scattered messily across his forehead, making him appear younger, more like the boy you went to school with. Your gaze moved down his nose, noting the individual moles dotting his left cheek and the fresh born moustache over his lips. His soft beautiful lips. You could still remember how it felt to have them pressed up against yours, to have them brush along your sensitive skin as Sherlock worked to set your nerve endings alight.

Gulping hard, you flickered your gaze from his eyes to his lips, feeling dizzy as his sweet aftershave washed over you for a second time. “I wouldn’t say ‘given up’, just focused on Zoe first,” you murmured a little breathlessly, trailing off as your eyes settled on his lips.

And then your phone from the kitchen rings, and you two are separated and went back to reality. "Ah sorry," you realise, his palm now on your waist. You race to the phone, and he awkwardly peers out on your back form as you frantically take a few short strides to the kitchen counter.

You, too, peeked at Sherlock as he returned to Zoe's images before turning away from him and face the dish washer.  You biting your lips in relief before Sherlock notices your scarlet face.

"H一Hello, it's Y/N here," you answer the phone first, wondering who is calling at this time, and wait for the caller on the line to say something to you.

"Oh, hello, miss. Remember the time I talked you about floral cake? I went to your shop yesterday and it was closed, so I took your business card." He paused, and the commotion of the crowd on the line could be heard. "I want to apologise for calling you this time. I was busy and barely had a few minutes left."

"No, no, it's perfectly alright. Don't be concerned." You respond to the manager of a cafe a few blocks away from your store. You reply while tucked your unkempt hair. “Do you need any help with the sketch?”

"Well, kinda," he said softly, "I just called you to ask you to meet up with me this Wednesday, are you okay with that? My graphic design team has just finished with the drawings for each among our dessert types." 

"Okay, I can manage my schedule." You smiled and responded gently, humming. "However, if it's lunchtime, it'd be great." 

"Who's calling you?"

The baritone voice on the other side of yours practically made you quiver. You knew it had to be Sherlock, but you couldn't fathom him standing behind you like this. You returned to him with a bewildered expression, and you were about to answer when he interrupted you with the same inquiry. "Who was it that called you?"

"It's just my customer..."  Your look became increasingly astonished as you answered him, and he shocked you by stealing your phone from your hand and speaking to the line.  "This is Sherlock Holmes speaking; Y/N and I are busy putting 'our children' to bed, and I believe it is time to end the call. Bye." Sherlock then crashes the call end button and walks back to the couch.

You quickly scrolled your feet after him, enraged and mystified.  "What the heck, Sherlock?" 

"It's just that I don't like it." He pouts, and you just roll your eyes and plop down alongside him on the couch. "Sorry. I really don't like it when you talk about meeting up for lunch with the other guy; meeting up for lunch is nothing less than a date. So you're going on a date, huh?"

"Oh my god. HE'S MY CUSTO一" You were going to yell, but he stopped you with a kiss you're not even aware of. Any space between you was filled in an instant, and all you could feel was the contact of his lips pressed up against yours. You weren't sure what was going through your mind, but you hadn't shoved him away. In fact his hands had weaved their way to the back of your head so he could cradle your face with the gentlest of touches. It was bliss, just like you remembered all those years ago from your secret meetings. 

Forbidden bliss ... and yet so tantalising.

While your lips moved familiarly against his, your tongue fighting with his as you traced his plump bottom lip, your hands felt their way up his neck to the base of his head where your fingers could wrap themselves around little tufts of hair. He leaned in closer, wanting more. The movement caught you off guard and you fell back a little too far, losing your grip on him and landing ungracefully on the pile of cushions on your sofa, lips still puckered.

Sherlock’s eyes raked your body, his expression giving nothing away. Then he abruptly jumped to his feet, his hand pushing the hair off his forehead while he looked around the room. “I’m sorry,” he breathed almost inaudibly, spotting his coat on the breakfast bar and moving to collect it. “I’ll uh … I’ll text you 一about when my next day off is.”

You gathered yourself quickly, getting to your feet and tucking your hair back behind your ears. “Well… well一yeah, cool,” you stuttered dizzily, watching him back towards the door without meeting your eye.

“I’m sorry,” he confessed, and then he looked up at you and you could see the guilt in his eyes. It froze you on the spot, unable to move and follow him. Instead you were resigned to watching him leave, the door slamming shut with a note of finality that echoed through your apartment.

Fingers on your lips, it was there... It was a sensation of his soft lips pressing against yours. It's all so full of unrealistic, perplexing, and hungering that it's like gravity. Even if you escape from him, he follows you, making your heart pound like a rumbling thunderclap. 

But it's all too good, and it causes your heart throb. 

Close the door, you were ready to slide yourself slumping down to the floor when your phone alarm and message notifications sounded up.

When you open it, you see the same number that phoned you before the bizarrely kiss of Sherlock's. Sighing, you opened it carelessly and read the text while lightly scratching your brows with your little finger.

‘Sorry for disturbing the precious time with your family! And sorry for not having introduced myself yet, miss. I'm James, just called me Jim, plain and simple. Good night and ttyl!'

my reader be like:

oh no dont hurt me pls!

[sophiaredwood03]

THis is the result of a sudden urge to write.

The MC's name here is Adelle, and is leaving the academy for... something? Don't ask me, I don't know either. And Sherry comes to see her off. I think the description would be, short fic, implied feelings for each other, who am I kidding, Sherry x MC.

This is my first romance-ish? fic, so, yeah, may not be the best. Comments are welcome! @atomsminecraft

Enjoy!

Standing here, under the archway, I survey the pile of immense and bulky baggage. Yes, everything is here. I sigh, and my nervousness surges in my heart.

“Adelle, Adelle!” A slender, very pretty woman runs to me, with footsteps even lighter and fleeting as a deer, and the moment I hear her, all the tension leaves my body, like a long-surpressed sigh.

The carriage stands in the archway of the academy, the dragon at the front of it, with magnificent scales as red as rust and a sparkling blue deeper than the sea itself, stretches its neck languidly. Gazing up at the red moon, it wonders where its mistress intends to go. 

I glance up, shoving the last of my bulging trunks into the almost-full carriage. “Sher, why are you here? It’s so late!” I jokingly say, half-teasing, half-touched, by her actions.

“You! How could you have left without letting me see you off!” She cries out indigantly, and I see her eyes, like the most precious of gemstones, sparkle with unshed tears.

“Sorry, sorry. I just didn’t want you to worry too much. I’ll be fine, really!” 

“It’s you, Adelle, so, just this once-” She holds up a finger- “I shall forgive you. But never again!”

Our chatter and laughter fill the courtyard, and time seems to hold still.

And when, I climbed in the carriage at last, the red moon perched high, high above in the sky, like some sort of trophy, she stood there, waving wildly. Then, in the blink of an eye, the dust on the ground rose, swirling up like mist, and we were off. 

The last thing Sherry saw before Adelle vanished into the night was the sight of a cat sitting on the back of the dragon, and the way the moon seemed to illuminate that lady, sitting tall and gazing back at the ground. 

[monocaelia]

Hi Didi!! I love philophobia so much and I'm sorry that such a great piece had to be affected by tumblr's tagging :(

For the prompts, may I have [win] with Childe please?

Thank you!!

-Sher

[ win ]  –  for the sender’s muse to place a hand on the receiver’s neck and rest their forehead against the receiver’s own for a close congrats or excitement at something.

warnings : mentions of violence but it's only for sparring

note : sher !! thank you for your kind words and your support TT i'm so sorry this is late too btw o(-(

send me a prompt and i'll write you something short !!

the shrill, metal clangs and deafening clashes of weapons striking against one another mix in with the heavy grunts and pants of you and your sparring partner in the training room. a curse slips your lips when your ginger companion attacks suddenly, to which you easily parry against.

it has been months since you began to train alongside childe, and with each passing spar you've steadily improved your fighting ability. you could easily keep up with childe's erratic and rapid attacks, defending against his heavy blows and sharp jabs from any direction he chooses to target.

but defending can only do so much in an actual fight.

any attempts to catch the harbinger off guard, to try and land any type of attack on or near tartaglia's body was near futile. you've tried numerous times to surprise your sparring companion, but you're always met with his quick parry and his weapon pointed directly at your throat.

"stay focused," childe scolds to your right. you bring your sword in front of you to block his attack and you wince at the sharp clang of your weapons colliding. the metal of his blade scratches against your own. you grit your teeth and shove him away before he could topple you over.

childe lands a few feet in front of you, a smug grin on his face.

"what's on your mind?"

"if i told you, you'd know my next move," you counter, bringing your weapon in between the two of you.

childe feigns a look of hurt, his lower lip juts out in a faux pout and his eyes sparkle with fake tears. "you hurt me so. is it a crime to know what my partner is thinking?"

disgusting.

he rushes towards you and you successfully block his charge with your weapon drawn. a wince leaves your lips when childe forcefully shoves his sword more into your body. it hurts, but you can't let him disarm you again tonight. "i promise i won't kiss and tell, don't you trust me?"

"not really," you hiss out before pushing your sparring partner off of you once more. your chest heaves as your lungs struggle to get enough oxygen into your body. you're running out of stamina, and you knew childe had too much stamina; he could go on fighting for days without rest and he would still win a hundred battles and then some despite being on the brink of collapse.

you'd lose this spar again and face the annoyance that is his victory spiel once more. ...unless...

you take a step forward, lowering your sword. childe raises an eyebrow but his weapon is still drawn and stands between the two of you. he's wary, as he should be.

"but if you're dying to know," slowly, you approach him. you don't miss the way your partner tenses up. his eyes, dull and dark like the deepest trenches of the ocean, harden but he doesn't take a step back. "it's about the banquet the tsaritsa is holding in honor of la signora."

his brows furrow and he scoffs. "if you're asking me to accompany you-"

"i'm not," you interrupt, surveying his posture. his blade is lowered now and his shoulders loosen at the conversation. "actually, i'm considering asking arlecchino. she and i talked worked before and we got along well. i might actually enjoy one of these banquets if she's by my side."

your heart hammers against your chest when childe's jaw falls slack and his hand loosens its grip on the hilt of his sword. without hesitation, you surge forward and slam the bottom of your sword on childe's hand to disarm him. however, you overestimate your balance and send the both of you tumbling onto the floor of the training room.

"i-i did it!" you stutter, pushing yourself from the ground. "i knocked your weapon out of your hands! i disarmed you!"

it's hard to maintain the smile that grows on your face, the laughter that escapes your lips as you celebrate your small victory. all these months of gritting your teeth in frustration and shoving your sword into the innocent practice dummies that stood aimlessly in the training rooms weren't for naught. and you finally had something to boast about and shove in childe's face.

but the gentle whisper of your name and a muscular, firm arm that tightens around your waist pulls you from your victory and grounds you, making you completely aware of the precarious position you and your sparring partner remain in.

childe's chest is warm underneath your hands and his muscles are easily felt through the thin fabric of his shirt. the buttons have been undone due to the extraneous movements that fighting requires and your eyes linger on his exposed skin. his scars peek out from underneath his shirt and your fingers twitch, fighting back the urge to trace them.

his hand, calloused and scared from years of training and fighting, gently rests behind the curve of your neck and pulls you towards him. his forehead tenderly bumps into yours and he's smiling at you.

you're engulfed in the calm sea, where its warm waves gently coax you deeper into the heart of the ocean.

"you did, i'm proud of you," he murmurs softly, only to be heard between the two of you. "even though you did it through dirty tactics."

your heart skips a beat and you push yourself away from him again, feeling the heat rush through your chest and to the tips of your ears. you attempt to thank him but the only thing that escapes your lips are stammers and stutters.

"th-thanks, i really couldn't have done it without your help, childe," you finally manage to get out. "and i'm sorry for tricking you; it was the only thing i could think of since you and arlecchino..."

"ah, such a low hit," childe pouts, but a knowing smile steadily grows on his face and he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"it would make me feel better if you accompanied to the banquet. wouldn't want to hurt me anymore, would you?"

[vigilantictacticedwards]

♧ DANGANRONPA: Severe, Silencé, Salem | SalemRonpa ♤ [ Danganronpa x Town of Salem ]

—

[ PILOT ]

...

All we see are vines hanging on the wall, the lightings are broken...but it seemed that someone is using this plot.

Elliot (LO): "This is useless. Just old sh*t."

Oliver (inv): "You be on the *lookout*, then!"

Elliot (LO): "VERY F*CKIN' FUNNY."

Shiloh (sher): "I suggest we look around, look for an escape. Maybe other people, as well?" I looked at Ada, she looks very silent after the Potion Master has said her full name. Childhood trauma? She was crossing her armsz uncomfortable.

Oliver (inv): "Well then! There might be other people who are tryna to oppose us. Maybe, maybe not!"

Elliot (LO): "I'm starting to dislike you, really."

Oliver (inv): "Hah! Just because your jealous?~" His tone started to be playful, while Elliot is angry...

Elliot (LO): "OH YOU LITTLE BASTARD B*TCH! I'M GONNA MOTHERF*CKIN' KILL YOU, LITTLE PEICE OF SH*T!"

Oliver (inv): "You look so cute when your angry! What' the matter? I'm tryin' to compliment you!" Boys, they never change.

Elliot (LO): "You are SO dead—"

???: "The hell is the noise around here?" A random stranger turned and peaked around the conor, where we are standing— besides the classroom. "Y'know, it ain't safe too hang around here."

Oliver (inv): "I see, I see! Newcomers!"

???: "You can...say that." There, that's a four-persons group.

Shiloh (sher): "You must be stuck here, too. I assume you also don't remember how exactly why you got here?"

???: "Neither. Only my name and my lads here." I guess they both know each other, even since from the start?

Elliot (LO): "You a band or somethin'?"

???: "No. Just a very infamous group here. We...*kill* evil-doers and criminals based off our occupations. Secret or not, we here are like...hitmen."

???: "I ain't a man here."

???: "...And hitwoman." I see. An infamous group who kills criminals and evil-doers based off their occupations. In Murder mystery games, they make the Sheriff that owns a gun... I DON'T HYSTORICALLY OWN A GUN.

Oliver (inv): "Interesting! What are your names, you guys?!" His eyes were sparkling in interest.

???: "William Thatcher. The Jailor...it seems a weird occupaton, but I don't care. I'm the leader in this group, and will always take whatever death will provide them!" He looks half as a leader.

???: "...Luke Wilson. I'm known as the youngest soilder during my time. Now? I'm a..war veteran. Is somebody here or is it just us?" He chuckled nervously.

Elliot (LO): "Paranoria soilder..." [muttered]

Oliver (inv): "A WAR VETERAN?! TELL ME WHAT'S IT LOOK LIKE IN THE WAR!"

Luke (vet): "...No thanks..." He looks p

???: "I AM THE ONLY MEMBER WHO *ABSOLUTELY* DESPISES VAMPIRES— WILLIOW HUNTSMITH! THE VAMPIRE HUNTER!"

Oliver (inv): "FINALLY, SOMEONE HAS THE ENERGY!"

Elliot (LO): "Vampires don't exists. Are you a child or some sh!t..?"

Williow (VH): "No, but I do recall b*tches like you exists in my photo that was NEVER PRINTED!"

Elliot (LO): "DEAD. NOW."

Williow (VH): "AHA!"

William (jail): "Stop this nonsense, if your gonna fight, go outside."

Elliot (LO): "...Lucky." I chuckled a little. As I notice, I see a person who hasn't introduce to himself— he was in William's back.

Shiloh (sher): "I suppose that's the last member in your group? The one...behind you?"

William (jail): "Ah, yea. Sorry for him, he doesn't like meeting new people."

Shiloh (sher): "I— I see."

William (jail): "This is...Evan. Evan Edwards. He is known to be he Heroic, justice-formed— The Vigilante." Wait, that's...

Elliot (LO): "Wasn't he in jail for threatning and beating up jaywalkers, gangsters, and tresspassers without legal authorities? Like, what the absolute f*ck? He's a *monster* to bad guys and good guys! HE CAN'T BE THAT SOFT!"

William (jail): "Amnesia. It's because of amnesia. Right, Ev—" He...dissappeared.

Williow (VH): "He dissapears occasionly whenever he's scaeed or embarrased. Yea, don't mind him at all."

Shiloh (sher): "If he was jailed, did you pay for that dept?"

William (jail): "Hell yea, I did. After that...it's personal. Anyways, you should tell your names."

Shiloh (sher): "Ah, yea. Name's Shiloh Lopézz the Sheriff in my town."

Luke (vet): "Despite your position, you don't look like the sheriff I picture. Just a ordinary western outfit. Y'know what, I respect that."

Oliver (inv): "Aha— uhh...what were we talkin' about?"

Elliot (LO): "Introductions, a*s-hole. Were you daydreamin'?"

Oliver (inv): "OH HELL NO— I WASN'T! WHY WOULD I, THE FAMOUS INVESTIGATOR, OLIVER RODRIGO, DAYDREAM?! Anyways! I'm the famous investigator— OLIVER-

William (jail): "You already said your name."

Oliver (inv): "THEN WHAT IS MY NAME HUH??"

William (jail): "...Oliver Rodrigo, isn't it?"

Oliver (inv): "Huh...then you must've followed me in Instagram..." (skull)

William (jail): "Does he live in the ci—"

Elliot (LO): "Right, right. I'm Elliot Adler, the Lookout. Look, I may know I don't exactly look like a lookout, so I clearly look like a f*ckin' civillian too you."

Ada (psy): "I'm... Ada Adkins and all..."

Oliver (inv): "She's our psychic with a long staff and this mas who snitches emotions too her!"

Williow (VH): "I suggest you should not explain the things untill she's comfortable."

Ada (psy): "It's...fine." She softly sigh. The mask told us she's rather exhausted.

William (jail): "Right. I'll be heading and look wherever Evan is. Luke? Williow?"

Luke (vet): "Yea, right. I'll catch up on you, invetigative related people!"

Williow (VH): "Yea. Cya."

Shiloh (sher): "I hoe you find wherever Evan is at." Their personality is actually chill, despite them being officer related people. No wonder why they are quite infamous...

Elliot (LO): "Let' explore the whole f*ckin' campus and see what we can find, yea?"

Oliver (inv): "ALRIGHT! WHOEVER IS SLOW GETS TO BE CALLED A SLOW POKE!"

Ada (psy): "I— HEY! AIT FOR ME IDIOTS!" Itt' funny too see them finally developong a platonic relationship, but...despite their personality, their issues— And...Evan...he didn't talked much. I looked around before I run with them, seeing...him behind my back, peaking against the conor.

Evan (vigi): "...I'm *sorry*." He's sorry? For what? As I blink, HE WASN'T THERE. A hallucination, perhaps.

Oliver (inv): "SHILOH!YOIR GONNA BE CALLED SLOW POKE IF YOU DON' C'MERE!"

Shiloh (sher): "RIGHT, I'LL BE THERE!" There is a question behind them...

What are they exactly called and do they have a dark history behind?

—

lol haha group go brr— anywaysz this is very long so hope you enjoyed aaaa

[stackumbrellayamini]

Best family-friendly destinations for your summer vacay

Best family-friendly destinations for your summer vacay

One of the most conventional human progress on the planet. India is a mosaic of multicultural encounters. With a rich legacy and a lot of attractions.

The nation is among the most well-comprehended travelers objections on the planet, reaching out from the snow-shrouded Himalayan levels to the tropical jungles of the south. Here are the best 9 family-friendly destinations for your summer vacay:

Best family-friendly destinations for your summer vacay: –

1. Nainital – The pearl of Uttarakhand

Roosted at an altitude of 2,084 meters above ocean level, the sparkling city of Nainital is encircled by seven slopes that are prominently known as ‘Sapta-Shring’ – Ayarpata, Deopata, Handi-Bandi, Naina, Alma, Lariya-Kanta and Sher-Ka-Danda. The magnificent mountains and the shining waters of the lake add an enormous parcel to the glamour of the town.

Naini Lake has seats for drifting, yachting, horse riding, skating, golf, and rock climbing. it is one of the Best family-friendly destinations for your summer vacay with the most mind-blowing places for a mid-year get-away in India, the city is a seriously famous slope station in Uttarakhand and is there any good reason why it shouldn’t be?! All things deemed, its regular excellence is qualified for softening hearts.

Read More: Want to Plan a Vacation in Summer? Here are the Top 10 Must Items for Your Travel

2. Ladakh – the coldest desert on the planet

Ladakh is known for its phenomenal mix of crazy deserts, blue waters, freezing winds, ice sheets, and sand rises. Best family-friendly destinations for your summer vacay and One of the most staggering spots for a pre-summer event in India, Ladakh is a region of India that is diverged from the state-of-the-art world. Such is the energy of this spot that you’ll unquestionably emerge as a changed person after your Ladakh visit.

The land might be vain yet it awakens with people here whose love for their domain and essential pleasures infuse the scene with life. Ladakh is parceled into two regions: district Leh and area Kargil. Every extent of the scene, every wonderful strict local area, and each charming region makes it an objective that is unmatched for what it offers of real value.

3. Delhi

With scores of museums, amusement parks, numerous monuments, scenic gardens, and infinite scope for fun, New Delhi is a must-visit. The capital of India results high when we talk about family holiday destinations in India. Best family-friendly destinations for your summer vacay as New Delhi houses three World Heritage Sites which are worth seeing during your family holidays here. Also, Lodhi Garden is one of the best sites to go picnicking with kids and families.

4. Haridwar – Gateway to God

The travel industry in Haridwar is burdened with love and rapture. Haridwar is also known as Ganga-Dwara because the sacred Ganges enters the fields here. Haridwar has not just stayed the house of the fatigued in body, psyche, and soul but has likewise filled in as a focal point of fascination for learning human expression, science, and culture.

Best family-friendly destinations for your summer vacay as the Haridwar has a well-established position as an incredible hotspot for Ayurvedic meds and natural cures. Among the first summer vacationer places in Quite a while that ring a bell, Haridwar is currently creating a complex social and profound focus. It is further known for its edibles and an amount of the must-attempt dishes including kachoris at Kashyap Kachoriwala and the aloo puri at Mohanji Puriwale.

5. Manali – The Endowment of the Himalayas to the World

It can never happen that you talk about summer camp and not mention Manali. In between the snow-shrouded inclinations of the Pir Panjal and the Dhauladhar ranges, a pre-summer trip outing to Manali is healing at its great. Best family-friendly destinations for your summer vacay there are No big threat the rising above tops and verdant regions of Manali attracts experience voyagers with heli-skiing, getting over, mountaineering, and stream drifting; absolute assistance for individuals who favor vigorous pursuits.

6. Tawang

Best family-friendly destinations for your summer vacay is The wonderful town of Tawang, likewise articulated as Dawang, has a dazzling landscape to make your excursion a beautiful and essential one. An abnormal yet exceptionally ideal summer vacation place in India.

Tawang is a spot that will complement you with its regular excellence enveloped by the fragrance of otherworldliness. The delightful orchid haven and the Tipi Orchid Asylum is also an optimal spot for your rundown of spots to visit. Alongside this, one can shiver their taste buds by enjoying the region’s one-of-a-kind cooking.

7. Coorg

Awaken to the smell of sedating espresso and partake in the rich vegetation of this well-known slope station of Karnataka. Best family-friendly destinations for your summer vacay has Set amid the excellence and serenity of slopes, vegetation, and profound valleys, Coorg is an ideal escape from the hurrying around of city life.

Coorg has countless open-air exercises on offer, for example, traveling, calculating, and wilderness boating, and significant celebrations like Keil Poldu (love of weapons), Cauvery Shankaramana (return of the stream goddess), and the Huttari (reap) celebration are an enormous draw.

8. Lonavala – Misty Weekend Getaway

Beguiling and mitigating at the same moment, Lonavala is a well-known slope station that is near Pune and Mumbai. Best family-friendly destinations for your summer vacay has heaps of cascades, lakes, and slopes around, Individuals from everywhere rush to this spot for a loosening-up time frame.

Presumably, the most ideal getaway spots in Lonavala are Lohagad Stronghold, Rajmachi Point, Karla Caverns, Valvan Dam, Lonavala Lake, Tiger’s Jump, Bhaja Caverns, Rajmachi Post, Bhushi Dam, Korigad Post, Kune Cascades, Tikona Fortress, Visapur Fortification, Bedsa Caverns, and Tung Fortress.

The people who wish to relax in the warm sun or appreciate recreational strolls investigating the spot, Lonavala is the right location for them. It offers the ideal retreat to city tenants through its serenity and tranquil air.

9. Rajasthan

When it arrives at the best family vacation destinations in India. Best family-friendly destinations for your summer vacay as Rajasthan probably tops the charts. The ‘Land of Maharajas’ leaves other areas behind in terms of foreign comings as well as household travelers. With its magnificent princely past, rich artistic heritage, and mighty regiments and palaces, Rajasthan is one of the top visitor destinations in India.

Some of the finest places to visit in Rajasthan are Jaisalmer,  Jodhpur, ‘Pink City’ Jaipur, Ranthambore National Park, Pushkar, and Udaipur. Pacify the adrenalin rush with camel safaris in the dunes near Jodhpur and Jaisalmer and wildlife safari in Ranthambore.

Moreover, visiting the holy town of Pushkar along with Ajmer offers the desired bliss. Owing to the spectacular Pushkar Camel Fair, the town ranks amongst the best holiday goals in November. In addition, there is a ton of training that keeps even the fussiest of travelers on their toes. Separately each city in Rajasthan homes stupendous forts and palaces, and elegant havelis.

Conclusion 

Go have a meeting for the best family-friendly destinations for your summer vacay. On the off chance that you have been on an Indian occasion for a long time and haven’t had the option to decide. Then, at that point, these suggestions are certainly going to make it more straightforward for you.

[kenobiies]

does anakin wear dark jedi robes because the colour of the regular ones everyone almost wears reminds him of sand???

[sparklesking]

(OOC are y'all ready for some headcannons? Well here I go!

Edd uses he/she/they pronouns and is gender fluid he also carries around a pencil in her ear at all times and they're autistic and have ADHD

Matt uses he/him pronouns and he is gay and trans he is fully transitioned he likes to do drag sometimes and he carries around a pocket mirror at all times

Tom uses he/him pronouns and he is bisexual he has a preference towards men tho he has snake bites and a tongue piercing and a eyebrow piercing and he still sleeps with tomee bear

Tord uses he/him pronouns and he is pansexual Tord smokes ever so often but not too much he also has a gun collection and he owns a bodypillow he likes to listen to Hatsumn miku

((These are the main four I'll probably post the neighbors soon but uh yeah I hope you enjoy))

[edd-ska]

Sher sparkles Art

I Used the pixel brush I wanted to experiment so why not draw Sher sparkles?

[littlefreya]

The Burnt Rose

Prompt:  

Imagine you're a Victorian woman and somehow end up betrothed to Sherlock. It was not your doing, but you are not unhappy about it because he seems respectful, polite and rather gentle, on top of being incredibly handsome.BUT as soon as you get married and you are his, he changes completely and he becomes a dark, primal beast with you.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader (2nd person pov)

Word count: 1k

Warnings: 18+, smut, Dub!Con, deflowering, rough possessive primal sex, biting, arranged marriage, breeding kink, creampie.  

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

A/N: Thank you lovely anon for this amazing prompt. I was having an emotionally stressful day and writing this one-shot helped me deal with my pain. I do love writing about the darkness in Sherlock, so this was great to work on. Many thanks to @agniavateira​ my close friend and muse who beta’d this story.

Title: The Burnt Rose

It could have been worse; you could have been betrothed to an older, more gnarly-looking man. But Sherlock Holmes was nowhere near to being a burden on someone’s keen eye. Tall, intelligent, and indomitable, the detective carried himself with a pungent streak of authority that had its own alluring charm.

But then, it was the way he studied you before the wedding - a dark sparkle danced in his cerulean eyes and his lips curled into a wolfish grin as he stripped you with nothing but a glare.

Your very bones turned into glaciers beneath your skin. 

The wedding took place in his estate on a stormy autumn evening. Black candles and dark crimson roses shrouded the main hall, granting the vicinity an enchanting yet brooding atmosphere. Despite the murmur of distress in your chest, you couldn’t deny being drawn by the forbidden beauty—and perhaps, you were drawn to Sherlock too. Every time your eyes met, you were forced to stifle a shuddering sigh, apprehensive at the thought of what awaited you once he’d have you alone in his lair.

‘Will he be gentle?’

Once the guests left, the servants began cleaning and reorganising the house. Mr Holmes - now your husband - snatched you away like a rider mounted on a black stallion kidnapping a nymph. 

With his fingers ensnaring your wrist, he led you toward the bedroom. His quiet mien was severe as if he was on his way to perform a dutiful task. Dragging behind him with your feet almost floating in the air, your gut wove and your heart strained against your ribcage. 

But of course, it did make sense for a virgin to be nervous on her wedding night, right?

As you finally made it into the chamber, Sherlock slammed the door behind him and hauled you against his solid form. Whatever prime elegance he donned on his polished exterior was long forgotten. Sharp talons made shreds and tatters of your beautiful wedding gown and his teeth sank into your supple skin to brand you as his.

“Sher...” you wept in pain, trembling at his coarse grip. He ignored your yelps and threw you carelessly onto the bed while ridding himself of his attire. Coyly you tried to cover yourself from your husband, watching in both fear and awe as he moved to stand by the bed, naked and laved by the golden candlelight. His body astounded you, for Sherlock was no man at all but a beast, large and menacing with a dust of virile fur casting a shadow down his muscular torso. And his cock, dare you thought it, was a monster on its own—so large and thick it made your legs clench together in defence.

“I will not be denied,” he warned at your actions and climbed onto the bed.

By instinct, you crawled away but his hands thwarted your attempts and dragged you back beneath him. Before it resonated in your smitten mind, you were pressed below his heavy body as he ravaged your mouth with a pillaging kiss. His tongue entered you just as his hand forced your thighs asunder. 

Bemused by lust and stricken with fear, your hands grazed his firm, hairy pecs. Unbidden wanton seeped through your tendons and your body squirmed to meet the warmth of his touch. Delighted by the quick change in you, Sherlock left your lips with a deep growl and glared fiercely into your eyes.

Shadows engulfed the icy mountains hidden in his eyes, and while you frightfully tried to read his gaze, something both hard and silky-soft pressed between your untouched petals.

“Wait!” 

Your cry reverberated beyond lock and key, tears immediately sprang down your temples as the large man tore into you. Thrust after thrust, he laid claim to your body without care. The blood of your maidenhood and the shielding wetness of your core drowned his cock and urged him to plunge even deeper into your squeezing cavern.

“It hurts!” you whined, looking at him with pleading eyes. Frantic hands pressed against his sweat-silken torso, trying to slow him down but he reached for your wrists and pinned them to the sides of your head. 

“You feel so good,” he ignored your plea and granted you another savage kiss instead, “you will bear me many children, my obedient beloved.”

His fingers bruised your skin as his fanged kisses seared; just as you were made to believe he would split you in half, a sudden wave of soothing bliss began to wash at the shore amidst your stinging thighs.

Tepid currents followed the rough kiss of his cock. A warmth seeped further by the friction that scattered between your bodies as both Sherlock and yourself collided into one another with haste to find elysium. 

The little wails of pain turned into moans of pleasure and your legs instinctively spread wider to allow him a deeper passage. 

“Sherlock!” you called for him as you arched your back, demanding more. Every time he stroked a certain spot within you, the sweet ropes of euphoria tightened in your womb, threatening to unleash something that terrified you. 

And yet, you wanted to reach for it as if your life depended on it.

Heeding your call with a sputter of grunts, he slammed you harder, the bed beneath you screeched and thudded while he claimed you the way an animal would. Your breath shortened and your once virginal cunt clasped and suckled around him until a sudden astonishing explosion swept you away.

Undone and unbridled, you fell apart. The air shook from your lungs and body tingled while the feral beast continued to rip through you.   

Witnessing your climax with dark pride, Sherlock thudded inside you with several, profound thrusts. The loud snap of his sac slapping against you filled your ears and abruptly he shouted with aching pleasure. The warmth of the thick sprouts flooded you; healthy ribbons of hot liquid flowed for a long moment while he gasped and continued to grind himself to give you every drop of his cum.

It took but a moment until he stilled above you and then carefully rolled off with a heavy breath, his hand quickly reaching to massage your sore mound; but what at first felt like an attempt to comfort you was soon revealed as a ploy to make sure his seed would remain and strike root.

“Rest for a few moments, sweet wife...” Sherlock uttered huskily and leaned close to kiss your temple, “I will mount you tonight as much as possible, you should be pregnant with my child by daylight.”

His words struck a chord of rage - it wasn’t for Sherlock’s threats but the newly-found desire that consumed what was left of your purity. You reached for him and pulled until he was hovering above you once again, peering bemusedly at his feral little rose.

“Do your worst then,” you dared him with a flare.

Already hardening with need, Sherlock looked down at you with wonder, a small grin tugging the corner of his parted lips.

Indeed, he chose his wife wisely. 

Additional notes:  *I do not own Sherlock Holmes or Enola Holmes. *Divider by @firefly-graphics​

[helloliriels]

L.O.V.E. by helloliriels

Sneak Peek ...

“Stop it!”

“I’m not doing anything!!!”

Harry protested the insult to her character, as their hands both held on to the planchette and felt it move again. “You’re pushing it!” she charged.

John looked affronted, “No, I’m not!” He was concentrating so hard on the letters, and carefully writing each one down.

“If it’s not you … and it’s not me? Then it’s the spirits!” Harry’s eyes were bright and full of mirth as she watched John taking his careful notes. Her little brother was adorable, if a bit stupid for being eleven. It was a forgivable crime she supposed. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t make him pay for it ...

She peeked at his notes. What do we have so far?

John read the letters off:

“S. H. E. R. L. …”

“O!” Harry called, as the planchette moved again, “take it down quick!! You can let go if you need to - no! Wait! Don’t let go! We might lose connection!!”

John was feverishly writing. Keeping one eye on Harry, and one eye on the planchette that kept moving … moving … moving …

Then it stopped.

“Who are you gonna marry??” Harry asked, impatiently - as if she herself couldn’t wait to hear.

John screwed up his face as he tried to make sensible words out of all these letters …

“Sherl Ockholm … ?

No, wait …

Sher Lockholme?

Maybe there’s an extra S ...?”

That’s not a real last name, though ...

… is it?”

He was looking up to Harry for reassurance - as she had the phonebook in her hand and was scanning through the last names under L …

“No!” she replied firmly. He tried again.

“Sherl, She …”

“Holmes is a last name!” Harry supplied.

And John adjusted it. Aha! She was right.

“Sherlock Holmes!”

He declared it triumphantly.

Then the thought occurred to him,

"Is that a boy's name? Or a girl's name??"

He blinked. A puzzled expression crossing his face.

"What do you care?" Harry teased, and devolved into a fit of laughter.

“I don’t! Wait - what?” John asked. All seriousness.

“Oh nothing!” she declared, “but what if you never find them!!

Oh! OoooOoohhhh!!!”

She made a sad puppy-dog face at him before he threw a pillow at her face and tackled her. Braids and all …

“I’ll meet them! And I’ll marry them!!”

He charged right into the oncoming pillow she retaliated with - knocking him over - and then they were tickling and wrestling and kicking on the floor before their mom came in to break it up …

>>> 3 YEARS LATER <<<

The fortune teller was looking deep into her crystal ball, as colors swirled inside. A glittery fog.

John was mesmerized.

“Tell this old lady - what do you want to know?” she asked with a bit of a sparkle in her eye.

John Watson had always been a romantic.

There was only one thing he wanted to confirm:

“Who is my soulmate?”

“Soul mate?” the old lady laughed heartily, "you want to know your destiny?!!” Her eyes were wide and scared, as if John had asked for a fearsome thing … Then she added, "do you think there is such a thing?"

John’s face fell.

“Mayhaps there is, dearie!” she crooned, soothing him with a pat on the hand, and softening her features with a gentler smile then, “let me look?”

He hastened to add - genies and bottles and all - “But I don't want to hear anything bad … if … if that's okay?”

She winked at him. Acknowledging his request.

Her hands swirling and twirling around the crystal ball. Muttering something unintelligible like an ancient spell. And then her eyes rolled back in her head and her voice had shifted to a deep, low rumble as she muttered, “something’s coming to me! I’m … I’m getting a name!!”

She smelled the air, covering her eyes dramatically with a hand, before pronouncing -

“Your destiny is to be …

with Sherlock Holmes!”

John’s smile could not have been any wider.

He wondered how many years it would take? Before he’d get to meet them? It had already been three ...

That same name though??

It must be destiny …

He paid her the two pounds for his perfect fortune! And ran out of the tent gloating happily over Harry. Her prophecy had been dull and trite! Ha!! While his had been revealing …

Harry begged and begged ...

Though John would never tell what had been said ... EVER.

Wouldn't say a word!!

It was his own little secret. To treasure:

Sherlock Holmes.

Was his destiny.

She couldn’t tease him with it, if she didn’t know it was true!

And he couldn’t wait …

to greet his future with open arms.

Continue reading here!

♡♡♡ Chapters 1-3 NOW up on Ao3! ♡♡♡

[sher-halo]

General information

Name: Sher

Age: 22

Vision: Hydro

Weapon: Catalyst

Sex: Non-binary

Birthday: 18/12

Region: Fontaine (Currently In Mondstadt)

Affiliations: Right-hand man of the Hydro Archon,(Secret: Manger of The Cat café)

Rarity:⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Elemental Skill: Small hydro birds (4) would attack opponents if the opponents hit or Sher directly hits the opponents, if hit by the birds consent hydro and -30% def.

Elemental Burst: Avatar would fuse with Sher, and take full control over their body. Sher+Avatar would create a huge waterfall and drown/kill all opponents, Buff's = 30% + hydro dmg bonus.

Height: 5”5

Pronouns: Any pronouns

Sexuality: Pansexual

Love Interest: Kaeya….

Constellation: Cascade de la Justice

Role: Sub-DPS

Voice: Xander Mobus

-Sparkling cookie - Cookie Run Kingdom

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Voice lines

Elemental Skill:

-Water's beauty is its ability to take any form.

-Voler Haut!!

-Shifting streams

-----------------------------------------

Elemental Burst:

-I'm sorry, seems though there isn't enough space for the both of us.

-Ressentez la cascade pure!

- Try not to drown!

Hello: I'm Sher, a Pleasure meeting you, and I'm the right-hand man of the Hydro Archon. Impressive isn't it~?

Chat About Cat Cafe: Oh the cat cafe you say? It's definitely run by my good friend Seham...Uh, you should check it out soon!

When it starts to rain: Woahh...I bet I can transform these drops into birds! Wanna see me try?

When it snows: Hehehe!! I've always wanted to play in the snow, Come on join me!

When the sun is out: Wow...The sun rising is one of the prettiest things I've seen.

Good morning: Morning already...Ughh, time flies too fast...

Good afternoon: Oh would you mind joining me in the Cat Cafe? I might even pay for you~ You'll just have to see.

Good evening: Bonjour, I'm on break so I suppose I could spare some time for dinner, would you like to join? I'm feeling generous so it's on me this time!

Good night: Oh nighttime already? I guess I'll see you soon! I'll just have a drink with Seham before I sleep.

Something to share: I've heard screaming and seen fire outbursts in Wolvendom...We should go check it out, I'm very concerned...

 Hobbies: Oh I just like to draw! Not the best at it hehe..but I'm still practicing! One day I might try to draw you

Troubles: Sometimes I wonder if I truly deserve the huge title I have, Don't get me wrong it's truly an honor but I do feel like I should be doing more for The God of Justice, but I don't think I'll ever know for sure. 

Favorite food: Chocolate! Anything chocolate, it's so sweet and nice~ thinking about it is making me hungry

 Least favorite food: Bananas, It smells and tastes weird...I wonder how so many people like it so much.

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(Sorry for not talking much about Avatar, they will most likely have their own small post about them 😔)

[buckyjamess-archive]

Hi Sher! Can I get angst prompt 32 for Sam Wilson? x (i also kinda love you switched back to your seb url)

yes you can, there's not enough love for my man sam!

32. “Because i love you god damnit!”

pairings: sam wilson x reader

warnings: y'know avengers with their violence, blood and stuff. Cursing. fluffy end because can't leave my man hanging.

wordcount: 1.3k+, I will no longer call these things a blurb

❝ all the things i say ❞

it's what cats do, right? hide away when they know they're dying, their ninth life hanging on a thread. Hiding away from potential predators in moments of weakness. 

But you're not on your ninth life and you're not hiding away from potential predators. You only have one life anf it's hanging on a thread and you're hiding from your team, you don't need to be found, it is good, at peace. No need to bring your friends into danger in a desperate attempt to find you.

I had a good life. 

Your ears ring from the immense impact of the explosion mere feet away from you. The flames around you warming your cheeks and causing a trail of destruction. Your head is heavy from hitting it hard and the agonizing pain from your side makes you want to faint. A sharp piece of metal impaling the skin where your ribs end, marking your suit in a dark red stain, like red wine on a white carpet.

This is it, at least you die fighting the bad. 

With the little energy and will power that's left in your body, you drag yourself away from the fight, finding a spot between two flipped cars and nestling yourself in between, you hand never leaving the wound on your side. Your back hitting the cold metal behind you and the sound of a thud when your head meets the car. 

The ringing in your ears fade away but the deafening sound of the gun fight around and muffles the voices coming through your com stay but even if you wanted to say something, you doubted your voice or the lack therefore would let you.

Focus on your breathing if these were your last moments on earth, you're fighting to make it as painless and relaxed as it can be. You knew the day was going to come one way or another. 

as your life flashes before your eyes, the good and the bad projected like an old movie, your mom, your dad, your family, your friends, the sounds around you fade away, vision getting more and more unclear with each sharp inhale. 

It lasts two or maybe three seconds of slowly drifting to another, safer and better place when the cold against your cheeks and the yelling voice far in the distance pulls you back into the real world. 

Through droopy eyelids you're met with the brown eyes, usually filled with joy and sparkle and a faltered smile which could light up a room in better days. Sam wilson, the guy you joked around with and told you 'not to die or I'll kill you' moments before going into battle. 

Goddamnit, he found you.

You don't hear his voice or maybe you just don't want to. The gears shifting in your mind and going miles per hour as you desperately try to form the sentences, get the man, your best friend out of here. He's risking his life.

"Go away, Sam." It takes everything to mumble the words out and swat his heads away from your body. 

Sam refuses, ignoring your poor attempt at pushing him away, pleading him to leave you behind "I'm not leaving you behind!" 

and if looks could kill, sam would be dead by now and with a new found will and power, you push him away, nearly throwing him off his balance. A pained groan leaving your lips and a hand clothing your side "Get. Out. Of. Here!" 

Sam clenches his jaw, confused and sad with anger running through his veins "No!" 

"Why the hell not, you all will be fine without me!" 

it's the tears in your eyes, the crack in your voice and the color slowly draining from your face that tells Sam you're serious but he can't, he can't leave you on your own, not after he promised himself to tell the truth. 

“Because i love you god damnit!” Sam spat, hands now on both sides of your cheeks "have for a while!" 

and if it's the thing you needed to hear, as if it's your queue, a now-i-can-die-happy, you give Sam one of the faintest smiles and your eyes slowly close.

"damnit," Sam mumbles underneath his breath in panic, slapping your color drained cheeks softly in an attempt to keep you awake "could use some help here!" 

"and no heavy lifting, no sports, don't test the waters by forcing your limits and ask for help, let yourself be pampered." The nurse demands "as much as I enjoyed your company, I don't want to see you here again." 

From where you're seated on the edge of the hospital bed, you smile at the elderly nurse in front of you "wasn't planning on coming back, no offense but the food is just not that good." 

"That's because I didn't make it sweetheart." looking over the rim of her glasses, she squints her eyes and copies your smile "take care now." 

"I will." you nod.

The nurse shakes your hand firm, flashes the man behind you a quick smile and leaves the room. 

"Asking for help, you?" 

Unbeknownst to the man behind you, you roll your eyes and bite the inside of your cheeks to keep yourself from speaking. 

You watch the man as he comes into your field of vision, arms crossed in front of his chest and that damn warm smile on his face. 

"I'm going to be a pain in the ass, intentionally." you shoot him a fake smile "going to make you my maid." 

Sam's brows knit together and he watches you through squinted eyes "That's how it's going to be?" 

"Absolutely," 

you smile genuinely this time when he dips down to capture your lips for a kiss "I can live with that." 

"Even going to get you one of those maid skirts-" 

"Okay, alright-" Sam interrupts "get your ass in that wheelchair, we're going home. If that's what you fantasize about, you might want to ask Steve or bucky." 

"Maybe I will." You chuckle back. 

You let Sam help you, knowing all too well that your body will raise red flags with the smallest movements you make on your own. 

"Alright," Sam groans when he tosses the duffel bag over his shoulder "let's go home." 

within minutes you're outside, white walls, sterile rooms and bad food long forgotten and fresh air filling your lungs. Freedom. Something you craved after two months in this god forsaken place, bed bound. 

Sam's car is parked nearby and unlocks it, light flashing a couple of times. He stops the wheelchair a few steps away and opens the passenger side where he carefully helps you in. Handling you like a fragile package. 

"I can do that myself." You laugh when he reaches for your seatbelt. 

"Alright." Sam says, hands raised in the air in defense "if you say so." 

Sam presses a quick kiss to your forehead and stands back straight and closes the door. Making his way to the back where he opens the trunk and pushes your duffel bag. 

You watch the man, you've learned to love so much throughout the years, push the now empty wheelchair back into the building, a quick pep in his step when he returns back. That beautiful smile on his face when he seats himself next to you. 

"Alright, let's go home." 

"Quickly if you don't mind." You mumble back "worst hotel I've ever been in." 

Sam laughs and without another word he starts the engine and drives away from the place you called home for the time being.

The drive back to the compound is a blissful silence but the way Sam grabs your hand whenever he can and kisses the back of it, makes your stomach knot and you know that with Sam by your side, it's going to be a wild ride. 

[bonbonbun-luna]

I hope you enjoy it! There is much more fluff with little Mari than salt, but I hope this is still good. At the end there are three drawings with Babynette. If you like it, I will write the second part with a detailed investigation of Lila from Sherlock. If you want to be tagged in this fic or in all my other future fics write about it!

The mystery of proper education

Mycroft Holmes was perfect in everything.

It was an indisputable truth, a fact, and almost a law. In the end, he personifies the British Government, being a perfect benchmark for everyone was his job.

Any business he undertook was carried out at the highest level, brushed to brilliance and presented with the most sophisticated chic. There was nothing Mycroft could not handle.

...Except, perhaps, one thing — he was a terrible nanny.

This fact was revealed to Holmes in childhood, when he was left with baby Sherlock. When Mycroft first saw the red little screeching lump, he was only about seven. There was no pinched soul of tenderness, a sudden awareness of kinship, or any other such nonsense. He looked at his younger brother with bewilderment and slight perplexity. The boy had no idea what to do with this screaming bundle.

However, Mycroft asked himself the same question even now, many years later, carrying a tiny Marinette in his arms. The chubby child, whom Holmes didn't hold very carefully by the armpits, looked at him with large blue-bell eyes, opening her small mouth, as if trying to express everything she thinks. However, whether she was able to even think at such an age was a mystery.

  The girl hiccuped and gleefully joyed, a thin strip of saliva flowed down her chin. Mycroft grimaced. Each time recalling how he ended up here, he wanted to strangle his sarcastic smirking brother.

The Cheng family had been familiar with the Holmes for quite some time, and mom adored inviting them to family evenings. At one of these evenings, the brothers met Sabina Cheng. She quickly liked Sherlock, sparkling with her smart eyes just like him. Boy never get tired of drawing her into troubles and all kinds of games, and she never get tired of helping him in them and listening to every rant in admiration. Over the years, they moved away, Cheng found herself in family life, and Sherlock chose to investigate people, but judging by the fact that Mycroft was now holding in his hands this thing, both actively maintained contact.

The older Holmes didn't have to wait long until his malicious brother suddenly began to talk at the Christmas dinner about Sabina's daughter and how Mycroft was definitely going to sit with her next weekend. Looking at his mother smiling happily and pulling a nervous smile in response, Mycroft vowed to destroy the petty bastard.

And now, as was said, he was left alone with this little blue-eyed monster. Of course, there was an option to call for a nanny, — even Anthea suggested it — but Mycroft was very responsible and carried out the work entrusted to him with all the best. Therefore, he stoically accepted the transfer of the child on his bail, despite the desire to strangle his malicious stupid brother.

«So», he began in a mentor tone, looking at the little thing that pulled toward him, «the first thing I will do when your parents and the nanny come back is to make them all realize how terrible my anger is. And then I'll say goodbye, and I will never see you again. Do you understand this?»

The child, joyfully yelling, only puffed up a bubble and clapped her hands in response. Stretching out his arms even more, holding the baby as far away from him as possible, Holmes identified her in the arena, where he was going to leave her from the very beginning, but as soon as he moved away more than three meters, there was a cry.

Moreover, she seemed to be mocking: as soon as he took a step further she began to sob, a step closer to her and she joyfully croaked and clapped her hands.

«I never agreed to become your clown», the man muttered through gritted teeth.

The little tyrant completely disagreed with this, and seemed to intend to get the desired attention. Mari looked at him with tremendous eyes for several seconds, as if waiting for him to come, but realizing that her new nanny was ignoring her, screamed.

Mycroft grimaced and began to approach the girl. She instantly fell silent and began to closely monitor him. When the man came very close, Netty giggled and joyfully pulled her hands to him. Holmes couldn't resist rolling his eyes.

Leaning toward the baby's face, he clearly pronounced, sharing words.

«I won’t take you in my arms, monster.»

The girl looked at him carefully, frowning at her nose, and then turned away, starting to play with the cubes. Feeling glee from victory, Mycroft was finally able to get to work. A few days ago, he decided that spending his precious time on such nonsense was simply stupid, and therefore, after weighing the pros and cons, he decided to work even in at such a difficult time so hard as possible. Therefore, having taken out several folders with the documentation from the diplomat, he settled down in his brother's chair and began reading, periodically calling up with Anthea and giving instructions.

Marinette played quietly in the arena, occasionally glancing at her nanny and becoming more upset with every second. Realizing that she was simply ignored, the girl decided to draw attention to herself.

After half an hour of work in silence, Holmes heard a methodical knock. Turning his head, the man saw how Netty calmly and with obvious pleasure hit the iron arena with a plastic cube. A fire of determination burned in her eyes, which man wanted to put out immediately. He took one cube from the girl. Second. Third. The last dice couldn't be taken — Mari threw it directly into her nanny's face in a fierce pant. Boiling with anger, Mycroft grabbed her shoulders and hissed softly.

«You will not do this. Not with me. And now immediately sit down like an obedient girl and try to fall asleep. Stop interrupting me.»

The bluenette silently blinked her huge eyes in complete silence and the man had already decided that the child sympathized with him and decided to calm down. He didn't know yet how much he was mistaken.

The girl’s lower lip quivered, small eyebrows moved to the bridge of her nose, and her eyes began to glisten sadly from grudges. Mari burst into tears. She howled loudly, plaintively stretching out the last note and sobbing frantically. Her face turned red, and the small hands clenched in fists, trying to hit the offender. Mycroft grimaced at a scream that seemed to even knock glass out of the windows.

«Little monster», the man muttered through his teeth and, slamming the folder, rose from his seat, wanting to calm the child as soon as possible.

Time for the elder Holmes flew by imperceptibly, but very noticeably. Two hours for which it would be possible to do a lot of things, solve critical issues, were spent on futile attempts to calm a frustrated child. When she finally calmed down, sniffing, struck seven evenings, which meant the time of feeding according to the schedule given to him. Mycroft was ready to howl, trying to realize that he had been wasting almost four hours.

«Marinette Dupain-Cheng», he turned to the child as seriously as possible, holding a spoonful of porridge in front of her, «Open your mouth. Right. Now.»

Mari stubbornly looked at the man, obviously not going to give up, and giggled, reaching for his spoiled jacket with her hands. Elder Holmes was pretty shabby, his hair lost its usual business look, an expensive jacket was stained with baby puree, and his face was crooked in the most suffering of all possible grimaces.

«Okay, you win», Mycroft closed his eyes and counted to himself to three, gathering his courage and stuffing the remnants of pride to hell, «Say “aah”», he held out and smiled wryly.

The girl trembled and sobbed her nose, starting to cry again.

«I hate children», breathed Holmes and hit his forehead against the countertop.

The girl was silent. A moment of blissful silence seemed to the man an eternity, for which he was ready to give all the blessings of the world. The indistinct meow from the child's side distracted him from contemplating the wood and, looking up at the girl with a tired look, asked:

« Are you satisfied? I see that you are. How should I feed you? Do you like airplanes?», Marinette flashed happy eyes, clapping her hands.

Mycroft sighed, thinking sadly about how he could get here.

«Okay, ahem», scooping up a new spoonful of porridge, Holmes took a serious look, «B-2 bomber, asking for permission to land, open the hangar»

Giggling and blushing joyfully, the girl opened her mouth and ate half the porridge from the spoon, letting the rest go down her chin.

«And who will they grow out of you at such a pace? Destruction of the whole nation?»

The man sighed and wiped her face with a napkin. The bluenette smacked her lips joyfully, smiling. Then things went a lot more fun, and Boeing F, Saab JAS 39 Gripen, Su-30MKI and many other combat vehicles were asked for permission to land. When Holmes realized that the girl had a serious love for the laws, things got even easier, especially under the recitation of the constitution.

Mycroft and Mari gradually moved to the sofa, where the man began to read the child a new bill and soon didn't notice how he fell asleep

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

The flick of the camera shutter didn't disturb either the child or the humble British government. Sherlock grinned sarcastically, hiding the dirt on his brother in his coat pocket.

Sabina and Tom smiled, looking at their happily sleeping daughter. The next day, a photo came to Mycroft's phone from which he had the opportunity to examine a pretty picture: disheveled and tired, in a dream he carefully holds Marinette, drooling on his jacket. The first thought was to strangle the brother. The second thought was the idea for a new victory. And the little Dupeng-Cheng actively participated in this idea. He grinned.

Sherlock looked bored at the wall, feeling a faint irritation.

John left a couple of hours ago, drove Rosie to school, Mrs. Hudson almost imperceptibly rustled below, preparing a new batch of cakes, and new interesting crimes never appeared.

The man gave nicotine patches with a disinterested look, a pale spot standing out on his skin. With a thoughtful grunt, the man got up from his beloved chair, thinking of taking a violin, when suddenly the buzz of the phone interrupted him.

Bending his head to one side, he quickly began combing the caller.

John forgot the phone today, Mycroft was sorting out a bunch of cases that had recently surfaced, Lestrade was actively trying to hide crimes from him (which weren't even worth Sherlock’s attention), Sabina said that they would have to participate in one of the Gala concerts, delivering their pastries, and she recently tried to find Marinette a nanny in that city, mom passed messages to him through his brother...

Sabina.

She said she would bring Mari for a short meeting, to talk about something with Mrs. Hudson. She was looking for a nanny due to the fact that Sherlock was going to plunge headlong into the work that day, where she strictly forbade him to take her daughter.

Apparently, it seems that the nanny canceled the plans at the last second and now woman agrees to anyone, who could take good care of her daughter.

At first she tried to call John, but apparently didn't get through, Mycroft wasn't even in the city, and Sherlock was the last hope.

He answered after the third beep.

«Next time I advise you to look for three people at once, who would agree to help. No, I'm not busy. No, I will not take her to investigate the crime, I din't have one. Yes, Mrs. Hudson is at home and yes, John is at work.»

After a short silence, a nervous voice rang out in the receiver.

«You really won't lead her to an investigation?»

«Really.»

«Oh, thank God. Sherlock, you are a lifesavior! I will bring her in an hour. You can’t imagine how much she wanted to see you. I hope this is not a problem, it’s so bad for me to leave her alone...», women's tone became softer and much calmer, a sigh of relief rang out in the tube.

«That's fine. We will definitely have fun.»

Sherlock hung up, peeling nicotine patches with cunning smile.

«After all, I never say anything about the morgue.»

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

Marinette has always been an interesting kid.

While almost everyone hated Holmes, considering him as an arrogant moron, it was almost impossible to find someone, who would take him for an ordinary person. Yes, he had John and Rosie and he was pleased with it, in the end, he never needed someone else's attention, only a mystery, but...

It was different.

They loved listen to his conclusions, admired his thinking, obviously enjoyed dangerous situations (Rosie totally has this genetic), but that was just that.

But Marinette?

She absorbed everything that he said, his every word, thinking, conclusion, like a sponge. She remembered his actions and carefully watched his every move, intrigued by someone interesting.

And when girl turned four, she came to visit them again, and then analyzed John with slight interest, easily describing the last three hours that he spent.

Holmes then watched her almost admiringly, learning all that he had ever shown the baby. It was his way of thinking and she happily used it. The girl proudly caught shocked looks, smiling sweetly at John, who was pale with fright, and not noticing suspiciously quiet Holmes.

She took Sherlock as an example and it was an invaluable, incomparable feeling.

The bluenette wasn't afraid of blood, listened with interest to lectures on the types of ashes, considered going to the morgue as holiday, and crimes as pies. She was stubborn, arrogant and damn smart.

And Sherlock could not deny that he involuntarily saw himself in her.

Smart, but lonely, she spent all days helping at the bakery and almost crying from boredom. Holmes will never allow himself to left her alone with this problem.

Grinning, the man shook his head, heading for the shower to wash off all the smell of nicotine. Sherlock had very little time left, he needed to get Hooper to find at least something remotely worthwhile.

He heard how Mrs. Hudson, who obviously overheard the conversation, quietly poking around in the kitchen. The woman adored Marinette and actively competed with the girl’s parents in baking, inventing new recipes. Rosie admitted that she was almost jealous, but it still didn't stop the younger Watson to eat cakes with pleasure.

After leaving the shower, he changed clothes and hastened to call Molly, hoping to arrange for Netty the best detective day that could be done.

In the end, the bored baby more than deserved a good unsolved crime.

Sherlock always knew what it is when your business is taken away from you, therefore he always delimited his care of Marinette from arrogance.

When the magical terrorist, named Hawkmoth appeared in Paris, and Marinette showed up as a Ladybug, he let it go.

They had a long confrontation, screams didn't subside either on Baker Street or in the bakery in Paris, but after seeing her resolute look a week later and hearing a firm voice, he let go of it.

It was not his battle, and she already had a hunch, so he gave her her first major crime.

When Chloe attacked her and stole the work, he let it go. The bluenette was strong and cunning, she won and he was proud.

When a new girl at school called herself her best friend and lied about a relationship with him, he let it go. Marinette instantly exposed her, forcing the little fox to tighten her tail and run away for several months.

When the same girl, Lila, threatened his niece, he let it go. Marinette knew what give priority to and instantly got rid of everyone, who easily threw her away.

But when Mari was loudly and shamefully kicked out of school without the slightest evidence, research and banal verification of facts, he could not let this go.

Sherlock arrived in Paris three days later, loud and arrogant, as always, ignoring the shocked looks that cast on him.

He conducted a maximum of research, didn't sleep at night, didn't eat or drink, but dug up all the dirt, that he could find on Rossi.

The little fox, who attacked everyone whom she considered even the slightest threat, never concealed evidence, confident that her charm and lies would be enough for everyone. Unfortunately, Sherlock was immune to such nonsense, relying on facts and himself. And he was sick of Lila Rossi.

In whatever school the Italian appeared, there was a major scandal, at the end of which many of her “bullies” suddenly tragically ended up either completely alone, afraid of every person around them, or did not endure stress and passed away.

This parody of the investigation finally convinced Holmes that all people are idiots. It took him three days to collect at twenty schools, in which a small liar ever was, such huge folders of evidence that not one of them could fit on the table. And when he, with his usual disinterested face, threw these folders in front of the nose of the Italian government, the man could not help but grin.

A resentful Marinette shouted at him from the phone, that “she could have dealt with everything herself”, and a fire broke out behind him out of anger and frustration.

He was Sherlock Holmes.

And he had his own ways of raising children.