#sherlock community

[bewitched-bullet]

How did you make the jump from it being a badly organised rp to John being abusive and intimidating others? That seems a tad far-fetched and really quite ridiculous? Where is the so-called evidence you speak of? Are you able to see posts on John's blog that nobody else is able to see? Just curious, because I really don't see it.

Follow the tag "a scandal in tumblr" and read those posts plus some of the comments in those posts.

Here is a link to @di-greglestrade post of them displaying invalidation, minimization, gaslighting, and my "favorite", an attempt at triangulation. All of it is textbook for domestic abusers, bullies, and more. Their lack of self awareness is amazing.

And they reacted like that JUST FOR A SMALL UNSATISFACTORY non-communitive conversation. As is to be expected coming from them.

Link

There's also the ask Greg sent to me about what happened to them about their experience.

And that's just the tip of the iceberg. This doesn't include how they can't stop stalking our profiles and harassing with posts, comments, and asks even though they claim to want no part in any of this. Very common in bullies when they start losing control of a situation or person(s). Controlling the narrative to ONLY paint themselves in a positive light. I can go on and on and on....

It's not my responsibility to hand feed you what is directly in front of you.

And if you cannot connect those dots yourself anyway, thank your lucky stars for not experiencing abusive trauma, witnessing abuse countless times (which is a trauma itself) or gone to a university to study such things. May your innocence never be sullied.

Anyone with critical thinking, let him pull the strings together.

It's not rock science and the community on tumblr are not stupid.

[mysteriouslover1516]

Sherlock Holmes (Part 2)

The next day you wake up to gunshots, coming from the room next to you. “Gosh!” you shriek and quickly get dressed. “Please be okay, please be okay,” you keep whispering as you carefully open your door and creep out into the hallway.

Your mouth drops open as you see what was causing all the commotion. “What the heck are you doing?!”

Sherlock doesn’t bother looking at you, instead his focus remains on the shot-ridden wall in front of him. “Bored!” He says and then shoots the pistol some more. He quickly switches the gun to his left hand and then pulls the trigger continually.

You cover your ears and shout, “STOP IT!”

John rushes up the stairs and quickly opens the door to the flat, “Not again, Sherlock!” He grabs the pistol out of Sherlock’s hand and scowls at him. “What the heck are you thinking?!”

“Bored, bored, BORED!” Sherlocks lets himself slide off the couch.

“You mean this is a regular occurrence?!” You gape and look at the wall that was victim to Sherlock’s boredom.

John gives you a face that expresses, “Don’t even ask.”

“What is Mrs. Hudson going to do?!” You freak out.

“Something about, ‘oh Sherlock, you’re going to pay for that. Oh Sherlock, why can't you control yourself.’ Something stupid like that.” Sherlock offers.

“Sherlock, I can’t believe you! I left my sister here thinking she’d be fine, and instead you wake her up to gunshots!”

Sherlock shows no emotion whatsoever and pushes past John to the kitchen. He opens the fridge and then slams the door shut. “There’s no milk, Silena. Go to the store on the corner and get some.” He then returns to his chair and closes his eyes.

“My name is Syrena,” you say, annoyed.

“And while you’re at it, some crumpets would suit me well. Thank you.” Sherlock replies, shortly, paying no attention to what you just said.

You cross your arms in annoyance and frown.

John shares a look with you and both of you head out of the apartment and into the breezy, London air, after you get some shoes and your jacket on of course.

“He’s impossible!” You screech. “How on earth do you deal with him for so long?!”

John sighs, “I ask myself that very same question regularly on a daily occurrence. I really don’t know.”

“I thought he had a good side, but for only my two days of knowing him, he’s insufferable!” You kick the sidewalk irritably.

John smiles out of amusement, you were usually quite calm-headed, meaning Sherlock must have made a big impact on you.

“It’s not funny, John.” You grimace at him.

John laughs, "It kinda is if you think about it."

"Well let's not think about it, then." You shake your head, smiling.

"Well, we better get the milk and Sherlock's precious crumpets, or else he'll freak out." John sighs.

"I thought shooting the wall was him freaking out," you giggle.

"No, that is him being bored. You do not want to see him when he freaks out, trust me."

"What does he do?" You ask curiously.

John says in a serious voice, "You'll see at some point."

You cringe, "It sounds bad."

"It is," John says, making you feel hopeless.

You two walk to the store and purchase the milk and crumpets, and you also stop at the coffee shop on the way home.

When John finally opens the door to the flat you had been gone for over an hour.

John sets the bags on the counter and Sherlock is in the living room staring intently at a newspaper in his hands.

“I asked for a pen,” Sherlock says coolly.

“When?” John crosses his arms. “Did you not realize we were gone?” Sherlock gives him no response, his eyes remain glued to the newspaper and his arm is outstretched as he waits for the writing instrument.

“There’s one on the table right in front of you,” John sighs.

Sherlock finally looks up expectantly and John rolls his eyes, walks over to him, picks up the pen, and places it in Sherlock’s hand.

“Thank you,” Sherlock says and then starts scribbling on the newspaper.

You walk over to the fridge to put the milk away, but as you open the door you shriek.

“What the heck is that?!” You scream.

Sherlock says nonchalantly, “It’s a human head.”

John races over and then covers his eyes frustratedly, “Sherlock!”

“It’s for my experiment.” Sherlock says calmly. “I hope she didn’t touch it.”

“Why would I touch it?!” You yell angrily. “What normal person has a human head in their fridge?!”

John gives you a look that says, Sherlock is clearly not a normal person.

Sherlock gets up and walks over casually while taking a sip of his tea, “Did you bring my crumpets?”

You pick up the bag you had got and rip it open, “You don’t mind if I have one, do you?” You say just to annoy him, then you quickly pop one into your mouth.

Sherlock gapes, “Now there are only nineteen to be precise in that bag! You messed it up! If you take one out, take two so you always leave an even number in the bag!”

You roll your eyes and pop another one in your mouth, but you make the mistake of looking back into the fridge where the decapitated head is. You gag and make a run to the toilet.

“Please don’t-” Sherlock is cut off at the wretched sound of heaving.

“She better have not stained my carpet,” he tells John and then puts a clothespin on his nose and walks off.

“Why are you so insensitive all the time?!” John demands and rushes to the bathroom where you are hanging over the edge of the toilet. “Oh, Syrena, I’m so, so sorry.”

You nod pathetically and slowly get up and wash your face, “Almost forgot how much it hurt to, well, you know what.”

John sighs, “I need to find my laptop.”

“For what?” You ask and dry your face off.

“To look for a new flat for us,” John decides, then walks out of the bathroom with you following. “Sherlock, where’s my laptop?”

“I sold it,” Sherlock says without any emotion at all.

John stops and opens and closes his mouth, multiple times, apparently at a loss for words. “You did what?” He finally choked out.

“Sold it, needed a few pounds to pay the rent.” Sherlock says.

John scowls and says in a surprisingly low voice, “Who exactly did you sell it to?”

“Some beggar guy off the street."

“Great!” John throws his hands in the air and sighs.

"A beggar paid you money for a laptop?" You ask.

"He was disguised as a beggar, he was actually a very rich man and just wanted some pounds for no effort or work costs." Sherlock states.

"So you sold him my laptop," John sighs.

Sherlock starts to violently play his violin and you cover your ears because it sounded awful, “I thought you said he was a good violinist!”

John yelled, “He is, he’s just trying to get us to leave him alone now.” You roll your eyes and head off to your room, John behind you.

John slams the bedroom door shut and you pull at your hair, “Why is he such a jerk?!”

“I’m sorry, Syrena. I’ll find us another place to live, just a little bit longer and then we’ll be on our own.” He says as he hugs you.

You sigh into his shoulder and can’t help but hope it’ll be soon.

“On the bright side,” John starts, “you get to go shopping with Molly.”

"Almost forgot about that," you say and drop onto your bed. "Can you hand me my ukulele?"

John grins and gives the instrument to you and you immediately start fingerpicking a tune.

"Since when did you start learning such melancholy songs?" John suddenly asks.

"I don't know," you sit up and shrug. "It's called Tourist. Sometimes I learn songs just for the tune, not the words exactly."

John sits down on the bed beside you, "So what's the song Tourist about?"

"A tourist," you smile then laugh as he rolls his eyes. "It's about this guy who's in Paris alone. He's singing a song about this girl back home, and basically it's just him saying they thought they were in love, but weren't really. He sings that tourists, or the people in Paris would think they were in love, but that their thoughts didn't matter because the couple would know the truth."

"Um, that's sad," John rubs his chin.

"What time is it?" You change the subject.

"One," John says as he glances at his wrist watch.

"And I'm supposed to meet Molly at two, right?" You ask.

"Yep," John nods and smirks. "Are you going to rush to do your hair and makeup now?"

"You must really think I look awful," you sigh and stare at your folded hands.

John puts his hand on top of yours, "No, Syrena. You're lovely, I just sometimes forget you're not like most girls. Clothes and your appearance aren't a main priority to you, you're not obsessed with yourself, and that's an admirable trait."

You smile at his words, “Thank you, John.”

Forty minutes later you are rushing around the flat like a crazy person. “I can’t find it!” You say frantically.

“Find what?” John asks, eager to help you in your search.

“My phone, it was on the coffee table charging  this morning, but it’s gone now!”

“Wait, where’s Sherlock?” John suddenly says.

“You think he sold my phone now?!” You ask, astonished.

“Or he’s using it for his own benefit,” John sighs and walks towards Sherlock’s room.

He knocks on the door, “Sherlock, you in there?” He timidly opens the door and Sherlock slams the door behind him as soon as John gets inside.

You are still in the living room waiting, but you can hear slightly muffled yelling from both sides and you wonder what they could possibly be arguing about now. Not like you had to think that hard, knowing Sherlock as you already did, he was probably being the insensitive, annoying jerk he was 24/7.

There's a knock at the door and you open it up to greet Molly’s smiling face. “Hello!” You smile but Molly can tell you’re kinda distracted.

“What’s up?” She asks, and slightly winces as she hears the yelling.

“Yep, that’s what's up.” You shake your head and head over to Sherlock’s door.

“Are you saying that you-” John’s voice is cut off when you knock on the door.

“John?” You call, “Molly’s here and I could really use my phone now if he has it…..” Your voice trails off.

“Oh, um.” The door opens a crack and you see your brother’s face,

“Is everything alright?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Mhmm,” John nods and hands you your phone. “See ya,” he plants a kiss on your forehead then closes the door again.

“Suspicious,” You mumble and walk back over to Molly.

Molly smiles and says, “We’ll have to take a cab, it’s funny that none of us own a car.” She laughs.

You shrug and grin, “Doesn’t matter to me, you’ll just have to carry all the bags.” You joke.

“John said I’d probably have to force you to buy enough clothes,” Molly laughs as you both step outside into the London air.

“Did he now?” You smile to yourself and make sure you have your wallet in your coat pocket.

Molly puts a finger to her lips, "Shhh, it was supposed to be a secret."

"You mind if we make a stop before the clothing store?" Molly asks.

"Not at all," you smile, "so where to first?"

"The book store," Molly grins.

Your mouth opens in excitement, "I love books too!"

Molly nods, "I think John told me that before, that you were a bookworm or something."

You laugh, "Yep, everytime mom and dad left us alone when we were little I would force him to read to me."

"He sounds like he was a good brother," Molly smiles.

"He is." You smile back.

Once you arrive at the mall, your new friend leads you to a small book store.

"What kind of book are you looking for?" You ask as you scan the shelves.

Molly chuckles, “Don’t laugh, but I love romance.”

“I knew it!” You roll your eyes good naturedly.

“And what about you?”

“Mystery, fantasy, thriller. Anything that hooks me on the first page.” You grin.

“You’re going to like living with Sherlock,” Molly comments with a knowing smile.

You look at her unconvinced, “I doubt it.”

After buying a couple of books each, she leads you to a massive clothing store. "So what's your style?" She asks.

"Casual, comfy, but it doesn't look like I'm a sloth," you smirk.

"Got it," Molly laughs and makes her way to a part of the store that she thinks you'll like.

Two hours later both of you arrive back at 221b Baker Street with three bags in each hand.

"I'm home," you call out as you manage to open the door.

Sherlock is pacing back and forth in the living room and doesn't pay any attention to you.

"Hello, Sherlock." Molly greets with a smile.

Sherlock sighs, looks up, and nods a hello. Then he departs for his room.

"Where's John?" You ask before he can slam his bedroom door shut.

"Out on a call," Sherlock answers shortly, then disappears into his room.

"Almost forgot he was a doctor," you smirk as you remember your brother's profession.

Molly laughs and follows you into your bedroom to drop the clothes off. "Well," she smiles, "I should probably get going. It was nice getting to know you more, Syrena."

You grin back, "Thanks for taking me! I think we'll be good friends."

Molly nods and you lead her out to the door and say goodbye.

You head back to your room and shut the door, there wasn't really anything else to do with John being gone and Sherlock locking himself inside his bedroom. You think you can hear the floor creak outside your bedroom, but you ignore it and think it's probably just the flat, and not someone.

Hey lovelies ;) I started this story a few years ago, I hope some of you can appreciate it still, lol. Depending on how many reviews and likes I get, I might post more in this series. Thank you for giving me a chance!

[alexxuun]

There’s a connection somewhere…

[just-being-aroace]

What happens with aroace coded characters in fandoms that really annoys me:

Frodo Baggins: never involved in a relationship, loves his friends — fandom: he’s so in love with Sam, he even lets him and his family live with him

Bilbo Baggins: never married, dedicates his life to writing, adopts Frodo and loves him like a son — fandom: I ship him with Thorin so much

Sherlock Holmes: dedicated his life to his work, very loyal to his friends, never married or had a real relationship — fandom: he’s in love with Irene! He’s in love with John!

Aziraphale & Crowley: canonically ace according to the book, poster characters for a qpr — fandom: why don’t they just f**k? Why don’t they just k**s? This is queerbaiting!

There are probably more examples because it’s definitely a pattern.

[starfruitsomething]

I don't care if they never kissed- Johnlock could not be more canon.

[frenchy-wino-jerkface]

So, I was a queer teenager about fifteen years ago. Fifteen years doesn't seem like much, but in TV History, fifteen years is not even BBC Sherlock times yet. So, in Queer TV History, it's basically like comparing modern times to the XVIIIth century : there was the beginning of an idea of equality and justice, but we were clearly not there yet.

The sort-of-gay pairings I saw on TV didn't end up together, or only in some niche content I couldn't get my hands on on national television - and that was where we watched shows at the time. Sometimes they were gay-coded, but what happened most of the time was : the queerest one of the pair ended up alone, living his best quirky-lonely life, while the most straight-passing found a spouse and a respectable straight marriage.

At the same time, I was falling in love with my very queer best friend. These were scary times, we were kids. When she ended up rejecting me and running off, not speaking to me again and going into straight relationships, I felt like I deserved it. That experience, plus the way I saw myself on television, shaped the way I saw my love life. Like I couldn't truly get one.

Now, shows have changed. Shows are queer, and watched by everyone. There isn't just one sort-of gay relationship on the screen, there are several in the same show! And they fall in love, and kiss, and break up, and get back together, and are shown being gentle and loving and couples! Actual couples. I still have to pinch myself sometimes. Before they get together, and despite the entire show screaming at me that it's gay, I still feel like I'm getting queerbaited. I brace myself, I wait for the unavoidable rejection and pain and loss. And yeah, sometimes it's dramatic. But it's always real now. They kiss. They love each other. There's no shame in that anymore.

Damn.

I wonder what it would have done to me and my best friend if we'd seen these shows fifteen years ago. How different I'd be today. I'm a bit sad that I didn't get that, that I was shaped so differently by contents that wanted to make me feel like I didn't quite belong, that I didn't quite deserve to be happy.

I'm sure excited for you younger lots, though. Have fun <3

[ham0705]

i started listening to sherlock&co. and couldn’t help but make a crossover fanart

[sweeterthansucrose]

Gay people can't flirt properly. It's always something like:

'Punch me in the face.'

'Punch you?'

'Yes, punch me, in the face, didn't you hear me?'

[cashthecomposer]

Be sure to tag with the series you're rating, and reblog for sample size!!!

[iseveryoneherederanged]

Finishing a good show after binge watching it for weeks is freaking torture, like how am I supposed to fill my days now?

[ofbakerst]

a spot of amateur burglary

[mysteriouslover1516]

Sherlock Holmes (Part 1)

(X-reader story based on the BBC version of Sherlock and characters [character name is chosen, but the pronoun you is used]. This is my take on what could happen in season five of Sherlock. I also shipped John and Molly in this version.)

"You have a sister?!" The tall man asks, completely astonished.

Your brother, John Watson, laughs. "Caught you there, didn't I?"

The man looks at you from under his black curly hair, and his blue eyes meet yours. "He has a sister!" He states.

You chuckle while blushing slightly, "Yes, I would know. I am Syrena Watson, the younger sister of John by three years."

"How did I not deduct this?!" The man shakes his head with a smile.

John clears his throat, "Shouldn't you introduce yourself now?" He says giving the man a meaningful stare.

"Sherlock Holmes," he says. "What brings you back to London?"

You feel your heart rate rise,"I'm getting away from a bad relationship."

"Your eyes hold a certain sense of sorrow in them, betrayal perhaps? And I can't help but notice your clothes have been repeatedly worn, meaning you left as soon as you could without any other supplies or belongings." Sherlock says and then looks away as if bored.

John sighs, "Sherlock, I warned you about this. She is still sensitive about this." He says as he wraps an arm protectively around you.

You try to smile, "Wow, Mr. Holmes. You certainly live up to your reputation of being a great detective." 

John was right, you still were hurt and frightened in a way about your break-up, but you hated letting people besides your brother see your emotions.

Sherlock sighs, "I tried my best, John. But so long has gone by before I could deduct something worthwhile, besides the butler who murdered the maid." He shrugs absent-mindly.

“Sherlock!” John reprimands. “What did I tell you?”

“You solved a murder?” You ask, stupidly.

Sherlock sighs, “How dull is your sister, John? She is almost as bad as you.”

John frowns, “Please try to be civil!”

“Mr. Sherlock, tell me more about the case.” You ask, anything about mysteries was interesting to you. You were a novelist and real life mysteries were always good inspiration for your books.

Sherlock stops, “Oh, great. Another blogger, are you going to over dramatize my work, too?”

“That’s it, come on, Syrena.” John scowls at Sherlock. “We don't have to listen to his degrading comments.”

You smirk and walk off, arm in arm with your brother, “He doesn't seem all that bad.”

John smiles, “You haven’t had to spend twenty-four hours with him.”

“Mom and dad send you their hellos,” You say, randomly.

Your parents lived in the United States and tried to come to London at least once a year to see John. Now both of their kids were gonna be living here. Your parents were sad you decided to leave the states, but they were glad that John and you would be there to look out for one another.

John smiles at the thought, both of you were extremely close to your parents and you loved them dearly. “I mean to call them more often, gosh I’m forgetful.” He berates himself.

“They understand you’re busy, John. Maybe we can call them tonight, maybe even on skype?”

“Great idea!” John smiles, then he wraps his arm over your shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re here, Syrena. I’ve missed you so much.”

“Thanks for letting me move in with you.” You grin.

John’s face suddenly falls, “Um, Syrena, there’s something I forgot to tell you.”

“Oh?” You ask in a slightly suspicious tone.

“I live in a flat with another roommate.”

“Is there enough room for me then?” You ask, confused.

“Well, of course, but he doesn’t know you’re staying with us. I haven’t told him yet.” John smiles, sheepishly.

“Is he nice though?” You raise an eyebrow, unsure of why John was being so mysterious.

“I think you should decide that yourself. You already met him.”

You immediately rack your mind for all the new faces you’ve seen and the people behind them. Was it the worker at the coffee shop? John had called him by name and the man seemed friendly. The cab driver also was nice though and John had talked to him almost the whole way to where you met Sherlock in the park……..

“It’s Sherlock,” You state more than ask.

“Please don’t hurt me,” John teases as he hides his face behind his arms.

You crack a smile, “Well, at least I’ll have some inspiration for my mystery novel!”

John laughs and drops his hands to his sides, “Just don’t copy my blog. I have a lot of followers on it, but Sherlock doesn’t approve.” He rolls his eyes.

“You haven’t told him that I’m moving in with you?!” You ask with your mouth wide open from shock.

John shrugs, “He won’t mind. There are three rooms and the third one is rarely used.”

You shake your head at your brother, “Oh, John. I hope this works out.”

You and John head over to 221b Baker Street and John leads you up the staircase and to an apartment door. “Welcome to our flat!” He unlocks the door and pushes it open.

You walk inside, carrying the backpack that held the only possessions you brought.

The living room was the first room you walked into when you came in. On the right was a hallway leading to four rooms. Three of them had the doors shut and the fourth one you guessed to be the bathroom, and you were correct. On the left was a wide rectangular arch that opened into the kitchen area. The living room had two windows that let in the sunshine that showered on a desk full of papers and files. Two chairs were arranged in front of the fireplace and the shelves surrounding it were full of books and decorative objects.

“Wow,” You say. “It’s actually pretty spacious.”

“Yep, here’s your room, Syrena.” John says, walking over to the first room down the hall.

You followed him and looked into your new living quarters. The walls were a nice blue color and a bed was pushed against the wall. A nightstand stood on the right side of the bed and a lamp was set upon it. A comfortable chair was in another corner, along with a desk. On the bed were some pillows and a green comforter. Propped against the pillows was a concert-sized ukulele.

“You didn’t bring your ukulele,” John says sorta sadly. “Luckily I have mine. You can have it.”

You smile happily, but sadly at the same time. Your old boyfriend had broken your ukulele out of anger, and that's why you didn't bring it, but you didn't tell John that. "Thanks so much, I seem to find some sort of peace when I play." You try to laugh, but the memory holds you back.

“Sherlock does too, he’s a violinist.” John offers. “Maybe you two could play together sometime.”

You laugh at the absurdity of the thought, “He doesn’t seem like one who would do that. I think he prefers to be alone.”

“Oh, he does. I just think that you’ll be able to snap him out of his cold demeanor.” John smiles hopefully.

"Why me?" You look at your brother playfully.

"You'll see," John smirks. "Oh, I think you and Mrs. Hudson should meet. I think she'll like you well enough.”

“Who’s she?”

“I’m not your housekeeper,” an elderly voice calls from the outside of the door.

“Mrs. Hudson, come on in!” John calls out cheerfully.

The door opens and an old lady with short, curly, light brown hair walks in.

“How long were you eavesdropping?” John asks with a smirk.

“Only long enough to know you were talking about me, dearie.” The woman says.

“Mrs. Hudson?” You hold out your hand and smile.

“Syrena Watson?” She asks and instead gives you a hug.

“She knows that I’m staying here, John, but not Sherlock!” You turn to him.

John winces, “Relax, Syrena, he’ll be fine.”

You shake your head and cross your fingers that John will be right.

You and Mrs. Hudson get to know each other over cups of tea and biscuits and before you know it you are giggling so hard that you feel like you’re gonna cry.

“What is that, John?” You hear Sherlock’s voice come from the doorway.

“It is Mrs. Hudson and Syrena laughing.” John answers, smiling.

“They sound like they are torturing an owl,” Sherlock’s voice holds a tone of annoyance. He walks into the dining room/ kitchen and barely glances at you. “When is she going?”

“I’m leaving in a few minutes, Sherlock.” Mrs. Hudson looks up from her cup of tea.

“Not you, her. She is ruining my concentration.” Sherlock states simply as he opens the fridge.

“Pardon me?” You ask.

“When is she leaving?” He turns to John, expecting an answer.

“She is staying with us,” John states.

“When is she leaving to stay somewhere for the night?”

“She is living with us.” John clarifies. “And she has a name, her name is Syrena.”

“Silena can not stay with us, she is too distracting, more difficult than you even.” Sherlock says, nonchalantly.

“Excuse me, Mr. Holmes, I understand if you want me to go, I can find a small apartment of my own.” You say, not even bothering to correct Sherlock's mistake.

"No, Syrena, you are staying with us!" John says exasperated, "Sherlock! Her name is Syrena, and she is not going to live somewhere else!"

“Thank you,” Sherlock says, completely ignoring John. “Now you should be going, I have a case to solve. Goodbye, wait, why are you still here?” His eyes meet yours finally and he looks at you expectantly,  “Goodbye,” he says more slowly like you are dumb.

“No, Syrena. You are staying with us.” John glares at Sherlock, “She is staying with us, for gosh sakes, Sherlock, she is my sister!”.

“She is not staying!” Sherlock argues.

“She can stay with me until she finds an apartment, John?”  Mrs. Hudson offers. “Thank you, Mrs. Hudson, but Sherlock is going to have to deal with this, he is not going to control how I take care of my sister!” John raises his voice.

Sherlock sighs, “Fine, you win. But she must know that she is not allowed to play loud music, laugh so much, in fact I would prefer if she stayed absolutely silent.”

Mrs. Hudson, who is now standing next to the door, gives Sherlock a disapproving face, “Now Sherlock-”

“Shouldn’t you be going now, Mrs. Hudson, oh is that the downstairs door? Goodbye!” He pratically pushes her out the door and slams it behind her.

“John, where is my file? Nevermind, I’ll get it myself. Shush, don’t breathe so loudly, I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole street heard you! Now be quiet, I need to enter my mind palace.”

“His what?” You whisper to John as Sherlock sits in a chair, cross-legged, hands held up to his face, fingertips touching, and eyes closed.

“A normal person would call it his brain,” John says.

“QUIET, I am thinking!” Sherlock says, still in the same position as before.

You yank on John’s hand and pull him into your room, shutting the door behind you guys. “I don’t think this will work, John. I think I should find somewhere else to live.” You smile sadly, you had looked forward to staying with your brother, but now it seemed like it wouldn’t work.

John sighs, "Syrena, if you want to get away from Sherlock's degrading comments, I understand. But if you do, let me find a flat for us to share, just the two of us. I promised you a place to stay, and I'm not going to let my sister live in an unfamiliar place if I can be with her and help her adjust."

You laugh, "You certainly are a different sort of brother, most brothers would want to push their little sister away and ignore them."

John shrugs with a smile, "I don't have many friends, so that makes me lonely too."

"No friends at all?" You ask, surprised.

"Well, Mrs. Hudson and Molly Cooper are acquaintances and I like them, they are good people. But I have only one real friend here, and as surprising as it is, it's Sherlock."

You laugh again, "You act annoyed with him all the time, though."

"Trust me, he is annoying and irritating, but fascinating at the same time. He helps prevent my life from being boring with all the cases we run around to solve."

"Do you think he'll let me come along?" You ask.

John smiles, "Sure, all you have to do is bat your eyelashes and give him your best puppy dog eyes, then-"

You wack him in the head, "You're so evil! You know I don't do that and besides, that would never work on him!"

John laughs, "It was worth a shot. But I think he'll be open to letting you come along at least once, he is a show off."

You think for a second then say, "Ok, I'll stay here. But if Sherlock gets too irritated, I'm leaving!" You joke.

John smiles, "That's the spirit, now we have to go meet Molly."

"When? And who's that?"

"Right now! I promised that we'd meet her for dinner." John says, getting up from the bed.

"Are you two dating or something?" You ask, quizzically.

John laughs, "No, she actually secretly likes Sherlock. But she is a kind person and I think you'll like her."

“Why would she like him?” You ask, you weren’t trying to be rude, but it came out like that.

“He may seem cold and standoffish, but he is a good guy.”

“Not as good as you,” You smile cheekily.

John smirks, “Hurry up and get ready. We have to meet her in fifteen minutes.” He leaves and shuts the door behind him.

You sigh and plop onto your bed, there wasn’t much to do to get ready. You pulled out the only other clean outfit you had brought, it was some dark blue jeans and a basic green colored shirt.

After putting the outfit on, you brush your hair and decide to leave it down instead of putting it in a ponytail.

“You ready, Syrena?” John knocks on your door.

“Mhmm,” You nod and open the door. “Ready!” John looks at your choice of clothes, “Hmmm, Molly will know some good places for clothes shopping here.”

You look at your appearance, then back at John. “You think I look terrible?” John laughs, “No, you look beautiful as always. I just know how a girl thinks and that you’d want to go shopping soon and I’d rather not accompany you.” You roll your eyes and smirk, “I see how it is.”

“We should probably be leaving now or we’ll be late,” He said looking at his watch.

The two of you walk out to the livingroom and you are surprised to see Sherlock in the same position as you left him.

“We’ll be back later, Sherlock.” John calls and shakes his head in annoyance as he receives no reply or even an indication that he was heard.

“Bye,” You say as you follow John out the door, little did you know that at your voice Sherlock opened his eyes slightly and watched you as you left, a small smile on his face.

John waves a taxi down and you two get in and John gives the cabbie the destination place.

When you arrive at the small cafe, John leads you to a table where a woman who looks to be a year or two older than you is sitting.

The woman is wearing a reddish-pink blouse and white pants, her long brown hair is in a style where a braid runs from one side of her head over the top to the other. She smiles as she recognizes John and stands up when you near the table. “Hello, I am Molly Cooper. John has told me so much about you!”

You laugh, “Good things I hope?”

Molly chuckles as you sit down next to her, “Absolutely, he practically adores you.”

John hides his face in his hands, “Molly…...don’t, just don’t.”

Molly laughs, “He has told me lots about you, I’m sure he’s happy that you moved here. I am too, there’s not a lot of interesting people here to hang out with besides your brother, Sherlock, and Greg.”

“My brother, interesting?” You smile mischievously at your brother.

John groans, “I’m thinking I shouldn’t have even come now.” A waiter comes to your table and you take John and Molly’s advice of ordering the cheeseburger, fries, and shake combo.

“You won’t regret it,” John promises, “this is one of the best meals here.”

Molly smirks, “He basically eats this every Tuesday.”

“Every Tuesday?” You inquire.

John clears his throat, “We always have dinner together on Tuesdays, Sherlock comes every so often, but he usually just dampers the mood.” He chuckles.

You nod, quietly taking in all the information and forming conclusions in your head.

The waiter comes back bringing you all your meals and shakes, a caramel one for Molly, chocolate for John, and strawberry for you.

The rest of the evening goes by in a blur full of laughter and lots of teasing concerning your poor brother.

“It was so nice meeting you,” You smile at your newfound friend.

Molly nods, “Clothes shopping tomorrow then, say around two?”

You laugh, “I don’t really have anything else to do. Do you approve of me going, John?”

John sighs and shakes his head, “You brought out the worst in her, Molly!”

Molly only laughs then hails a cab and says goodbye, a second later she is gone.

“Want me to get a taxi or want to walk home?” John asks, “It’s not a very far walk and it is fairly warm.”

“Let’s walk, I need the exercise.” You laugh and put your arm through John's.

John smiles and then sobers, "Syrena?"

"Yeah?" You ask.

"What happened back in the states?" He asks quietly.

You sigh, you knew he was gonna ask one day about your ex, but you were never gonna be prepared for the question.

John notes your hesitancy and quickly says, “You can tell me when you’re ready, I know it still hurts, but I’m here for you whenever you are ready to talk about it.” He gives you a smile and then asks as casually as he can, “What did you think of Molly?”

You quickly look up at him, giving him a cheesy smile. "Is my brother in love?"

John playfully pushes you away, "Sisters, so presumptuous."

You laugh, "Brothers, so obvious all the time about who they like."

John drags his hand over his face and gives you the funniest, tired expression you had ever seen. "Ok, but for reals. Do you like her?"

“She seems sweet,” You say thoughtfully. “Sweet but sad, she seems like she’s hiding slightly, like she’s insecure. I do like her, John. But why does my opinion matter on this? If you like her, go for it!”

“I can’t,” John sighs, “she’s in love with Sherlock.”

You laugh, “Don’t get all depressed on me now. Keep up the good faith, don’t lose hope!”

You two make it back to Baker Street and quickly run up the stairs.

“Watcha want to bet Sherlock is still in the same position as we left him?” John smirks as he puts his hand on the door knob.

“Really?” You ask, totally thinking your brother is being overdramatic.

John pushes the door open and sure enough, there is Sherlock in his chair, cross-legged, fingertips in front of his face touching, and eyes closed. “Told you.”

Sherlock opens one eye and gives you two a quizzical look, then he resumes exploring his mind palace.

“He’s really extreme,” John informs you, like you haven't already figured it out.

Sherlock gets up and says, “Get your adjectives right, John. I am not extreme, a psychopath, or whatever else people label me. I am a high functioning sociopath.”

“Like I said, he’s extreme.” John crosses his arms. “Figure anything out yet concerning the case?”

Sherlock ignores him, walks into the kitchen and then pours himself a cup of tea. “What is it like inside your funny little brains? It must be so boring.”

You laugh at him, then realize it wasn’t a joke, Sherlock had honestly insulted you, again.

“Mine’s like an engine, racing out of control. A rocket tearing itself to pieces, trapped on a launching pad.” Sherlock says.

“Not again,” John sighs, “I’ve heard this before.”

“Of course you have, John! Your tiny little brain can only grasp the real meaning though, how I truly feel.” Sherlock glares.

“My mind is like a cat spying on its prey, then the cat gets hit by a lightning strike and gets fried.” John mocks him, clearly improvising on what to say.

“That doesn’t even make sense, John. You’re such an idiot.” Sherlock slurps his tea.

John gives him a face and Sherlock sighs and pulls the cup away from his lips.

“Don’t look like that, practically everyone is an idiot."

"At least other people are more sensitive," you mumble. You usually were a cool and collected person, but now Sherlock was starting to annoy you with his constant degrading comments.

"Did that thing say something?" Sherlock says calmly, referring to you as a thing.

You frown and say in a low voice, "Goodnight," and then head to your room, shutting the door behind you.

You sit down in the chair and eagerly grab the ukulele. You knew Sherlock would be annoyed, but part of you wanted to annoy him now.

You smile at the familiar feel of your fingers pressed against the ukulele strings and you happily use your thumb to strum a G chord. You start to think about what to play and suddenly your fingers start to play the familiar and somewhat sweet, longing tune of Edelweiss.

"You play beautifully." you hear a voice say and you jump and look up at your brother who was standing amused against your doorframe.

"Gosh dang it, John. Don't sneak up on me like that." You shake your head with a smile and randomly pluck a few strings.

John laughs, "Sorry about, well, you know who. He is a bit of a jerk."

"A bit?" You smirk.

"Fine, a lot of a jerk. But he'll come around soon, he's not so bad once you get to know him."

“Promise?” You ask dramatically.

“Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.” John recites, it was one of the things that he always used to say to reassure you when you were kids.

You laugh and then lean your head on John’s shoulder, “Thanks for being such a good brother.”

“No problem,” John says, then rips the ukulele out of your hands and starts playing really badly.

You giggle and steal the ukulele back, “Watch and learn,” you tease.

Hey lovelies ;) I started this story a few years ago, I hope some of you can appreciate it still, lol. Depending on how many reviews and likes I get, I might post more in this series. Thank you for giving me a chance!

[itsonlytext]

Quiet Days

It was so unlike Sherlock to follow the tide, to knuckle under, to allow such menial phrases such as ‘quiet days’ to slip out of his mouth. Defying those social standards and refusing to submit to them was what differentiated him from others, gave him his title, made John even look his way the first time that they met.

no warnings, just some complicated feelings and overall a very queer scene >1000 words.

(if it better suits you, here's the ao3 link to this one-shot.)

Sherlock had imagined it more than he was (ever) willing to admit:

The heat of their skin blending into sighs, the tugs, the way their names would roll off of each other’s tongues and melt onto their skin, sink into their core and erupt a blinding light - so hot and demanding that they wouldn’t care about the amenities of keeping each other hidden until night, so deliciously shameless that they would proudly bask in the afternoon sunlight until the heat of their bodies were indefinitely hotter than the sun itself.

He gazed at the sight in front of him - John, (Oh God, John.) ever so content in his patterned armchair, gazing at the bright screen of his laptop with tired eyes. It was a sight he was used to seeing whenever a quiet day doomed Baker Street and the detective would leave the front steps of his mind palace and open his eyes with an arduous sigh. John would always be there, always so calm, always sitting with his laptop open, feet (slightly) stretched out, arms (sometimes) crossed over his chest. Sherlock always wondered what he was looking at, reading, watching. Whatever it was, whatever was drawing John’s eyes away from him, he hated it.

Sherlock’s ears pricked with a thought.

Experiment: Record himself working - simply working over a case in the lab at St. Bart’s hospital for exactly ninety minutes and in silence. Then, write an entire dissertation about himself - anatomical habits, childhood events and/ trauma accompanying the result of an in-depth MRI of his own brain (something to elicit interest in the doctor if it hasn’t been drawn already). When John isn’t paying attention (eating, watching Jeremy Kyle, sleeping, on an unsuccessful date), he will upload the video and dissertation onto John’s laptop. That way, no matter if John has decided he will spend his quiet day on his laptop, he will still be focused on Sherlock - still looking, reading, watching - honouring him with the attention he wants. (Needs.)

Reminder: Make sure to inform Molly that he will, at some point, require a camera and the lab.

For now, Sherlock sat quietly the way he always did on quiet days.

He was sure that he never believed in quiet days. If he did, he hated them. Or he once hated them. Over time, as he allowed the quiet to hold him down, force him to stop moving and sink deep into his bones, Sherlock realised that perhaps he could allow them to pass every now and then without sparking a fuss whenever they did.

Quiet days, Sherlock thought to himself as John shuffled in his seat, his eyes still glued to his laptop (and not the detective), how pitiful they could be.

The term was planted by Mrs Hudson, who would climb up the stairs with a knowing smile and a tray of fresh tea as she whispered, ‘it’s awfully quiet today,’ or ‘today’s going to be nice and quiet, I can tell’. It was then germinated by John, who always agreed with her as he’d gratefully pick up a biscuit from her tray and reply, ‘yes, I think so, couldn’t come sooner,’ or ‘definitely a quiet day today, Mrs Hudson’.

Sherlock somehow watered it without wanting to - he always knuckled under John, even whilst simultaneously convincing himself it was the other way around. At some point (he didn’t know when), he had also started to refer to these days as ‘quiet days’.

It was so unlike Sherlock to follow the tide, to knuckle under, to allow such menial phrases such as ‘quiet days’ to slip out of his mouth. Defying those social standards and refusing to submit to them was what differentiated him from others, gave him his title, made John even look his way the first time that they met.

John (oh God, John).

When would he realise that he was being stared (gazed) at?

It was all Sherlock ever did on quiet days. It was all he knew to do, eventually morphing into instinct whenever quiet would bless Baker Street. He knew it was the result of conditioning, a simple failure on his part - to pair one with the other. John, quiet days. He couldn’t tell the difference anymore. (Perhaps not so much a failure.)

John hadn’t noticed the staring (admiring), not even as he took a sip of Mrs Hudson’s tea or a bite from an overly sweet biscuit.

Update ongoing experiment: Now the thirty-second instance that his staring (treasuring) has gone unnoticed by John. When would he realise? Sherlock suspects in due time, perhaps when the next quiet day comes. (False hope - another seed unconsciously watered due to John.)

The detective, having barely moved since the morning, tucked that ongoing experiment in the deep confines of his mind palace - now archived, dormant, always ticking.

He went back to adoring John (oh God, John).

John - a much simpler word, much easier to accept than the existence of a quiet day. Quiet day - two extra and redundant syllables, much more difficult to knuckle under. But without having tolerated its existence or going the full ridiculous length of three syllables, Sherlock never would have discovered John, he knew that.

John (oh God, John).

He wouldn’t mind letting that syllable slip out of his mouth every now and then.

“John.”

Sherlock savoured the way his head snapped up with a hum, so quick to respond to the deep, baritone voice that called him.

He cleared his throat and shuffled. “Yeah?”

“Quiet day,” Sherlock replied plainly, his eyes gazing at the desk and wandering over the tea and food Mrs Hudson had left for them that morning.

John watched him for a moment, a gentle smile tugging his lips as he watched the detective’s deeply contemplative face and wondered what he was thinking about.

[onceinawhilemoon]

So you're meaning to tell me.. that even while running the house, running intelligence for the Crown, taking care of his ailing mother and Sherlock, overseeing Otto and his treatment of Violet.. Mycroft still found time in his insanely busy schedule to put together an elaborate puzzle/treasure hunt for Sherlock that spans far and wide across Cordona simply because his little brother told him he was bored??? Get out of here im done with him

(ilhsm)