#so why can’t it be Sherl?

[quibbs126]

Another thing, I wish Sherl was a more meaningful member to the cast and he had some actual importance.

Like, in game he’s supposed to be the straight man/grumpy one of the group, doubting Katrielle’s strange plans and trying to keep her on track. Except the problem is, Katrielle doesn’t listen to him, and Ernest just follows whatever Kat says, so Sherl’s constantly outvoted or just brushed off. And they’re the only two who can hear him, so he’s out of luck trying to go with anyone else. Like he’s really only there to be snarky because he can’t really be anything else, given how this dynamic is

But I dunno, I just wish Sherl could have been more impactful to the overall plot instead of just a quirky side character? Like for example, having a scene where Sherl tells Katrielle to get her priorities in order (and there are actual stakes in this hypothetical scenario) and she has to actually listen to him, and then him being the actual grounding force of the trio, instead of just constantly ignoring him. Or maybe him being the one they go to for emotional support, or to just dump their feelings on while he gives some level of advice

I dunno, I just kind of wish Sherl had some actual impact to the group and he wasn’t just a character that could easily be cut out of the story if they wanted

[probablygayattorneys]

I fucking love when video games program in stuff like outfit changes without considering the implications.

[sandcobangevent]

Mycroft's case for Sherlock

by mush_pit and reyhan Read the fic on AO3!

Bored.

Sherlock was utterly and completely bored.

No matter how many cases John insisted he looked over they were unbearably boring and just the thought of looking through them drove him mad, so instead he curled up on the couch mindlessly scrolling through TikTok on his phone.

As expected, the bee-keeping content on the app was quite satisfying to watch and yet it wasn’t enough to fill the case-filled void in his soul or at least that is what he thought until a message popped up on his screen.

At first, a spark of excitement rushed through his body, after all, not many people had his number. His excitement, however, quickly vanishes as he notices Mycroft’s name pop up. A grimace covers his face as he swipes the message aside, not bothering to answer.

His older brother is the last person he wants to talk to on such a boring day.

Letting out another sigh he goes back to scrolling through more bee videos.

“Sherlock please tell me you aren’t going to spend the whole day on the phone again,” John sighs pinching the bridge of his nose.

Sherlock shoots him a glare, “Give me a case then.”

“I have! I have given you plenty to choose from! Like the one with the glow-in-the-dark bunny!”

“Boring!” Sherlock whines.

“Alright, what about the case of the missing circus clown? That one sounds interesting doesn’t it?”

“Watson, are you trying to kill me with all these awful cases?” Sherlock accuses.

“Then what kind of case would you prefer? I’m sick of seeing you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Pouting like a spoiled child.”

Sherlock pouts and glares at the doctor, “I do not?”

John rolls his eyes, “Sure and Archie has an IQ equal to Albert Einstein.”

“But he doesn’t?” Sherlock points out confused.

John sighs, “It was sarcasm. It was meant to- You know what? Forget it, it isn’t important but what is important is you getting a case. The listeners are getting angsty for new content.”

“And they can wait until a good case comes along.” Sherlock coldly states just as his phone dings.

John notices it immediately, “Who’s that?”

“No one,” Sherlock answers curtly only for his phone to ding again.

“It doesn’t seem like no one. Who is it?” John excitedly asks reaching for the phone only for Sherlock to swipe it away.

“It is no one important,” He insists but that only seemed to intrigue his dear companion.

“No one important huh? Is that why you are guarding your phone so much? Oh come on, Sherls, you can tell me,” John smiles coyly.

Sherlock looks at him confused, “Tell you what?”

“Who are you talking to? Is it a girl? Boy maybe? Somewhere in between?” The nosey doctor asks.

Sherlock couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, “Is that what you think of me, Watson?”

It was John’s turn to pout looking disappointed at the lack of romance in his friend’s life. It seems that he too was bored out of his mind.

Sherlock sighs deciding to at least answer the poor doctor’s questions, “It’s just Mycroft. Probably just checking up on me like he always does.”

“Mycroft?” John asks unable to stop himself from chuckling, “What kind of name is that?”

“My brother’s name.” Sherlock answers bluntly causing John’s jaw to drop.

“Y-your..your brother? You!? You have a brother!?”

Sherlock cocks up his eyebrow, “Yes an older brother. Why are you so surprised?”

John chuckles and shakes his head, “Oh nothing, it’s just everything about you just…screams only child.”

Sherlock becomes more perplexed, “Is this another example of your sarcasm.”

John sympathetically smiles and pats his shoulder just as Sherlock’s phone beeps again, “Maybe you should answer him.”

“No.” Sherlock rejects.

“Why not? What if he’s in trouble? You can’t just ignore him.”

“I highly doubt that he is very capable of taking care of himself,” Sherlock claims only for his phone to beep again. He could feel the disapproving look John was giving him. It was a kind of look that creeps under your skin and makes you want to hide away, sadly, Sherlock wasn’t immune to that look.

“Fine!” Sherlock relents.

Even though his actions and words didn’t show it he couldn’t help but worry. Mycroft wasn’t one to spam his phone in such a manner. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. He picked up the phone and read the texts.

Sherlock, I need your help. -MH

Sherlock don’t ignore me I need help urgently. -MH

I’m outside. -MH

Just after reading the last message, a knock is heard, and like always John goes to open the door knowing full and well that Sherlock wouldn’t want to do so himself.

When he opened the door, however, he didn’t expect to become face-to-face with the massive figure that was Mycroft Holmes.

He was Sherlock’s brother no doubt with the same facial structure and body type as his younger counterpart. The only differences were his eyes. Sherlock’s eyes were sharp but Mycroft’s eyes were piercing and yet also tired as if he hadn’t slept in days.

“Afternoon Doctor, is Sherlock home?” Mycroft asks as if he and John had met before.

“Oh umm..yeah..” John says before calling out to Sherlock, “Sherlock! Your brother is here!”

“Tell him to go away!” Sherlock calls back not caring now that he knows that his older brother is alive and not in any life-threatening danger.

John sighs and looks up at Mycroft sympathetically noticing how stressed the other Holmes was. Mycroft squeezes past John and immediately heads towards Sherlock, “Enough! Stop acting like a child! I need your help!”

Sherlock rolls his eyes, “How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t deal with secretive people especially not ones of the royal family. If you are so desperate for help so much why don’t you go ask Lestrade for help? I hear that you two are great friends.” Sherlock huffs managing to make a sarcastic comment.

It seems like a bit of John has been rubbing off him after all.

Mycroft’s cheeks turn bright red, “I don’t know what you are suggesting because Lestrade and I are good friends and this conversion has nothing to do with her."

“Then it’s none of my business either,” Sherlock claims to be as stubborn as a rock.

Frustrated, Mycroft starts to flap his hands as he starts to pace the room, “You are always like this! Always! I ask you for one little favor and you can’t even be bothered!”

Sherlock stands and stomps over to Mycroft, “You are always asking for everything! Always trying to rope me into political games I don’t want to be involved in! Why should I ever want to help you!” Sherlock shouts only for John to grab Sherlock from the back of his collar and yank him away.

“Enough.” he states as he pushes Sherlock back on the couch before doing the same by shoving Mycroft into the armchair a few feet away from his younger brother. “Now let's just all take a deep breath and calm down,” John says using the same tone someone would use on a child. Even though both brothers were annoyed by this order they followed it anyway.

“Good. Now I’m gonna make some tea and we can all discuss this whole problem in a reasonably calm manner.” John continues only for Mycroft to shoot up from his seat.

“No! I don’t have time! I have to find him before he could get hurt!” Both John’s and Sherlock’s eyes widen.

“Him? Who’s him?” John questions. Mycroft sighs as he takes out a folded-up piece of paper from his coat and hands it to John to open it. Upon unfolding the paper an image of a small tuxedo kitten cat is revealed under the bold lettering of LOST CAT.

“Basil…I found him while walking back home from a meeting. It was raining like mad and he was so small and thin…I…I couldn’t just leave him there so I brought him back to my place. I thought about just leaving him in an animal shelter as soon as he got better but when I thought about handing him over to someone else I couldn’t bear it.” Mycroft explains.

John’s heart swelled while Sherlock’s heart sank feeling the heavy burden of guilt upon his shoulders.

He broke his first rule, he jumped to conclusions before having all the facts.

He sighs and looks up at Mycroft, “So what happened then?” he asks treating this case more seriously than any case he was given for the last two weeks.

Mycroft seemed to relax, “I was working in my home office and I was so focused that I didn’t notice that he scratched a hole through the window screen. By the time I realized what happened he was completely gone. It’s been three days since and there hasn’t been any sign of him.”

Sherlock nods and puts on his coat before turning to John, “Well then Watson are you coming or not?”

John blinks in surprise, “Wait you mean right now?”

“Of course! You heard my brother, Basil needs our help.” Sherlock declares before walking out of the flat with John in tow.

It only took a little less than three hours to find the small kitten, It could’ve taken less if John hadn’t had his face scratched up by a stray cat he thought was Basil.

Even so, it was worth it, Basil was safe, Mycroft was happy, and most amazingly of all, Sherlock wasn’t bored anymore.

[levinbolts]

we bought a zoo ass roundup under the cut (aka introducing 80% of my and my partner’s pets)

CATS

sebastian (sebby!). 10yo. the favorite and is very aware he is the favorite. shy around strangers but very sweet and clingy with people he’s familiar with. if one of us is on the bed, he has to be on or touching one of us at all times. very chatty and trills to his name being called every time. will literally let us move and toss him around without complaint he’s so chill. very mean to other cats when there’s treats or catnip involved.

sherlock (sherl!). 9yo. absolute chonker of a cat (20lbs). loves head rubs and belly scratches and WILL demand them if you’re in his sight longer than 5 seconds. announces every time he uses the litter box?? so we’ll know??? has his head in the food bowl or asleep on a pillow 99% of the time. only meows when he’s going to the litter box or wants pets.

prompto (prommy!). 3yo. MENACE. wants to play all the time and will swipe at you if you walk past him too many times in a short time span. thinks any small sudden noise is a toy and will run over to pounce on it every time. teeniest tiniest meow i have ever heard oh my god it’s so cute. likes to snuggle and suckles on patches of his own fur while he does it?? but then he falls asleep while he’s doing it and it’s real cute.

misty (mismis, ms. miss!). oldest animal in the house at 14yo. can’t see very well at all, so we think she’s going blind. very sweet and loves to be around people. comes running in to say hi when she hears us in the kitchen or living room. also loves head and belly scratches. does NOT like other cats so she doesn’t come in the bedroom even though she really wants to :(. we’re worried she’s on her way out.

DOG

rumlow (rum, rummy, rumple!) the only dog ! 3yo. clingiest dog i’ve ever met. literally has to be up someone’s ass at all times if he can see or hear them or he’ll die (whine and bark nonstop). thinks he’s a teeny tiny puppy still and not a 90lbs adult dog and tries to climb into people’s laps. has a big scary bark but is so sweet and lets the cats bully him (he’s terrified of prompto). neediest animal in the house honestly.

BIRDS (idk exactly how old any of them are so they won’t have ages)

matcha. my personal favorite of all the birds (i got to name him). chatty chatty chatty. knows how to say a lot of things but his favorites are “pretty bird” “pretty boy” and “gimme kiss”. he will actually give kisses if you put your finger up to the cage (sometimes he’ll bite instead if he’s hungry or cranky tho so you win some, you lose some). loves to be around people. WILL try to take your phone if he sees it, whether he can carry it or not. loves to splish splash take a bath.

bucky. sweetest of all the birds honestly. only has one little foot so he hops around everywhere. loves the color red and will sing to you if you have something red in front of him. knows the andy griffith theme and the addams family theme. loves head pets. the best flier of all the birds, though he doesn’t do it much. mostly just wants to be held.

pineapple. used to be in the same cage as bucky but bucky didn’t like her so we moved them. she’s still obsessed with him though and spends most of her time staring at him from across the room. pretends to be mean but mellows out after a couple head pets. terrible and landing when she flies and just smacks into shit. the only other bird that likes her is ramen noodle.

ramen noodle. hates everything but his bell toy and pineapple (who doesn’t even like him). very quietly mimics all the other birds and they hate it. usually if the other birds are screeching and we can’t tell why it’s because of him. idk he doesn’t do much else.

apple jack(lyn). i couldn’t get a good picture of her because she’s a bitch and wouldn’t be still. meanest bird of all time. yells at anyone that walks in the room. will try to bite you if you come within 8 feet of her cage. obsessed with her little bell ball toy and will get PISSED if you touch it for any reason. we thought she was a boy but when we found out she wasn’t, she became apple jacklyn instead of apple jack.

you’ve already met snapple in my last ask so i won’t put him here but he looks very similar to apple jacklyn

[101flavoursofweird]

In my humble opinion Sherl would have been so much funnier and more endearing if he did more dog-things…

Anytime someone walks within ten feet of the agency, he starts barking his head off or howls like basset hounds are known to do

Sherl keeps scratching at the front door when he wants to go out. Kat or Ernest will open the door for him, only for him to change his mind when he sees it’s raining. 

Kat gets sick of Sherl’s antics so she installs a dog flap for him

Kat ends up buying so many dog biscuits and chews. Sherl will do that thing a lot of dogs do where they’ll run off with the chew to eat it in private, as if anyone would try to steal it from them.

Sherl will bury things in the park. He has a secret stash of biscuits

Sherl can do tricks. He just chooses not to

Granted, we do see him sleeping in his lil dog basket a lot of the time

What if Kat always wanted a dog when she was little, but Flora refused because they wouldn’t have time to look after one? And maybe Rosa was allergic? So Kat’s thrilled when Sherl joins the agency. Maybe that’s why she never solves his case— because she can’t bear to let him go

Kat it totally the kind of person who would DRESS UP THEIR DOG. All those outfits for Sherl you see in the Switch version of the game? Those were Kat’s idea

Sherl will, occasionally, get the zoomies and jump everywhere, but he tires easily

Sherl does not like baths or the groomers… or the vets. Kat and Ernest have to trick him into going to the vets

Kat and Ernest come up with all sorts of nicknames for Sherl

Ernest asks Sherl to go fetch the paper from outside and Sherl just straight-up ignores him. Sherl will, however, fetch the paper for Layton

On a bad day, Kat and Ernest find it comforting when he just sit and pet Sherl

Sherl stays with Kat at her home, and secretly, Kat’s glad because she has a guard dog now

Emiliana is just not a Dog Person and Sherl can sense that. He gives her space but she grows to like him

Alfendi and Lucy get asked to dog sit Sherl while Kat goes away. Lucy is thrilled. Alfendi (a cat person) hates it here

[fandomjunkie]

The Psychopath's Crown - Pt. 1

Characters: Jim Moriarty x Holmes!OC

Warnings: None.

Chapter 1: "And you're supposed to be a Holmes."

I strode into Speedy’s, the bell dinging as I swung the door open and made my way over to the table where she was already seated. By she, I mean Eve Watson. Best friend and partner in crime. Well, not quite a partner in crime considering she’s a DI. A smile tilts my lips at the thought as I sit down next to her. She says, gesturing to the waitress bringing over two drinks but not raising her eyes from the newspaper.

“I ordered what you need,

Her lips turned up ever so slightly at the sight of me.

I smile gratefully as I accept the steaming cup of chamomile. As I sip it, I remark, “I suppose I didn’t apply my concealer well enough, did I.”

She replies, turning a page of the newspaper, “I might not be a Holmes but I have picked up a few tricks. You’re clearly stressed out to an observant eye.”

I merely shrug at her words, cupping both my hands around the cup for warmth, “I do quite a lot of work. Mycroft has it worse though.”

At the mention of my elder brother she snorts, finally laying down her newspaper.

“Please. I don’t see Mycroft with dark circles under his eyes and paler than usual skin.”

I retort, placing my cup down gently just as the waitress arrived with Eve’s order, “You don’t see Mycroft at all. With good reason, placed in a room together with no supervision you two wouldn’t last a day.”

She shrugs as well, accepting the truth of what I said.

I plunge onwards, not letting her speak, “So I had a proposition.”

She arches an eyebrow and I finish, “We could move in together.”

She says monotonously, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “I wasn’t aware that our relationship had become so serious. Whatever shall I tell Greg?”

I sigh, “I found recording devices in my home and even though I dismantled them, Mycroft refuses to let me live alone and as much as I love my brother I appreciate my freedom. If I moved in with Myc, my life would be very restricted. So, as an alternative, I’d rather live with you.”

As I finish explaining she thoughtfully stirs her matcha before she says, “Well, if that’s the case then sure. I’ll have someone help with your stuff. Just don’t take my room. There’s plenty of others.”

I instinctively lean forward to hug her, forgetting the table and letting out a small “oof” as I bump into it.

She snickers, “And you’re supposed to be a Holmes.”

I roll my eyes and stand up, “You wanted me to meet someone?”

She nods, standing up as well, “My brother, John Watson. He can be a little-”

I complete her sentence, “Overwhelmingly flirtatious?”

She nods again as we exit the cafe, “My brother flirts with every single nice girl he meets. It’s weird. But he’s living with Sherl so you’ll have to get used to seeing him more often..”

I reply as we enter 221, “Oh, I know he’s living with Sherl.”

At the look she gives me I say quickly, “Mycroft’s surveillance, don’t ask. And also, how are you two related again? He’s flirtatious and you despise PDA, even between friends.”

She replies simply, “He’s my brother.”

I refrain from rolling my eyes again and instead rap on the door to 221B, “Sherlock! Open up.”

A man with short blondish hair opened the door, looking rather confused when he saw me but he seemed to realize something as his eyes darted to Eve.

“This is who you wanted me to meet?” He asks her.

She merely says, “I got her along, didn’t I?” She pushes him out of her way and goes straight to the refrigerator.

I chuckle and step in as he stands aside. He starts speaking first, “So, Eve didn’t bother to mention your name?”

I answer with a small smile, “Emberlyn. I go by Emberlyn.”

He smiles as well, “Beautiful name, beautiful woman.”

Flirtatious, indeed. He’s barely known me for five minutes. I hold back a chuckle when I realise he probably doesn’t know I’m related to his flatmate.

As if on cue, Sherlock strides in, his pale blue robe billowing as he walks, “Where’s Eve?”

I point to the kitchen, and he seems to realize I”m here, “Oh, hello sister. John, I’d recommend not flirting with her unless you want an earful from Mycroft. You might even get maimed if you’re lucky.”

Eve adds, peeking out of the kitchen, at John’s incredulous look, “Mhm. Just try not to hook up with her.”

I finally let a laugh bubble out, “I forgot to mention, My full name is actually Charlotte Emberlyn Tara Holmes. Bit of a mouthful so I go by Emberlyn.”

John continues to gape at me for a moment and before I can register anything else there’s a blast. I’m thrown off my feet and backwards almost headfirst into the fireplace. I feel a ringing in my ears as I stand up and stumble towards the kitchen, “Eve? Sherlock? Are you alright?”

Worry seeps through my voice despite myself and I see that Eve is just now getting up with a wince. Sherlock has already dusted himself off and extended an arm to help her up. She stands up with a small groan and I see red contusions on her elbows.

I murmur slightly, my ears still ringing, “That is going to bruise.”

She retorted, though her voice was still weak, “You’re one to talk with the way you’re clinging to that counter.”

I grimace and ask Sherlock, “You’re alright, yes?”

He nods swiftly, still analyzing our injuries. Confusion passes over Eve’s face as he bustles over to put the kettle on.

He explains, “Mycroft will be here soon. I’ll give it ten minutes with the commute. If it was just us it would’ve been an hour or so. Emberlyn is involved thus expediting the travel time.”

I scowl but gratefully accept the muffins he passes to Eve and I. By the time we finish the whistle of the kettle sounds throughout the house, almost in unison with the knocking on the door.

Eve hollers, “Come in Mykie.”

He answers, irritation clear in his voice as he steps in, “Good morning to you too Evangeline. No major injuries I see. Pity. A week in a hospital would have done wonders for your complexion.”

Sherlock steps forward, almost ready to engage in argument but I beat him to it, “It’s much too early in the day to beat one of my imbecilic brothers over the head with a lamp but I won’t hesitate.”

They both pause at that and Eve says, rolling up her sleeves, “I don’t have any such forebearing about beating one of them over the head with a lamp.”

I sigh exasperatedly, “Myc sit, Sher get the tea from the kitchen, Eve, you can go to another room if you can’t stand to be civilized.”

I pause and wait for them to comply, which they do. John murmurs to me, “Impressive.”

I laugh slightly, “It’s a skill.”

Eve busies herself in the kitchen, still grumbling under her breath about how she’d like to maim Mycroft, while Sherlock arrives with the tea tray, purposefully positioning it away from Mycroft. I roll my eyes at his antics but gesture for Mycroft to proceed.

*mycroft’s andrew west explanation*

Mycroft stands up and hisses, “Sherlock, this is of national importance.”

He scowls, “Then get Emberlyn to do it.”

Mycroft retorts, “Emberlyn has other work to do, especially with the Korean elections approaching. But you don’t need to know anything about that, do you?”

Sherlock lifts his violin and I sigh, dreading what was to follow. Sure enough, screeching emitted from his violin as he deliberately played off-key. I heard a crash in the kitchen accompanied by the sound of glass shattering.

“DAMMIT SHERLOCK!”

I snorted and even Mycroft smirked, “Good luck brother.”

Sherlock grimaced as Eve peeked out of the kitchen, “As much as I adore torturing Mycroft, giving me a warning first would be lovely! I just shattered my favorite champagne glass.”

John said incredulously, “You don’t even live here!”

Sherlock explains, “She gave me a glass which she used whenever she came around my flat.When I moved here, I took it with me.”

I interjected, “More concerningly, why were you touching the champagne glass at 10 am. Don’t tell me you were admiring it. You’re not sentimental.”

She sulked, “Listening to Mycroft talk is deserving of a glass of champagne. Not that I ever did get to drink it.”

She glares daggers at Sherlock who winces.

I stand up and shake my head, “Well, as long as she didn’t drink any alcohol, no harm done. I’ll leave you to wipe up your champagne puddle Sherlock. Mycroft will be waiting for me down.”

He nodded, dragging his feet as he went to the kitchen, Eve still looking put out over losing her glass of liquor. John waved as I left the flat. Soon I was out on the side walk of Baker Street. I didn’t see Mycroft but a familiar black BMW rolled up to me, the back window was rolled down and Megara came into view.

“We can talk in the car.”

I complied, sliding in as she opened the door.

“So, what does Mycroft have for me today?” I ask, as the car drives off into the street and towards my flat.

She brushes a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and takes out a few folders. She hands me a sheet, “This would be your schedule for the week. I’m sure you have Ms. Watson’s permission so your things are being moved currently. We’re merely heading to your house for a last look for anything they might’ve missed. For this week you don’t have any active teams to look over. Andrew West, as you know, will be taken care of by Mr. Sherlock Holmes. In your schedule you can see your meetings for the week.”

I nod, rifling through the papers she has given me. A beautifully detailed itinerary of my week.

“Currently, Mr Holmes has only asked you to see the physician that we’ll be stopping at on the way. “

I cut her off with an incredulous look, “I only have a few bruises.”

She arches an eyebrow, “It’s about time for your monthly check up anyways.”

The vehicle comes to a stop outside the physician’s building and I grumble slightly as she marches me to the door.

I’m still scowling as we enter the vehicle again.

“Completely unnecessary.”

She allows herself a small snicker but says in a professional tone, “I almost forgot to mention the coffee I got you.”

I stare at the coffee and then at her, “Is this supposed to be the adult version of giving a child a lollipop after a doctor visit?”

Though she shrugs her eyes sparkle with mischief and I accept it with a sigh.

She continues her briefing from where we left off, “Mr. Holmes, only wishes for you to rest up today. Your main assignment this week would be researching one of our high profile potential criminals.”

She delicately hands me a rather thin file. I flip through its meager two pages with surprise, “This is all we have?”

She nods, “Precisely, why he wants you to investigate further I presume. And, you didn’t hear this from me but he probably would also like you to lay off the legwork for a while.”

I grumble at her words but I’m more pre-occupied with the file before me. Attached it a clear cut photograph of the man and I find myself mildly amused as he seems to be striking a pose despite the photograph clearly being taken by a security camera.

“James Elwin Moriarty.” I murmur the name to myself, taken aback by how soft it sounds. So gentle and distinguished. Rather contrasting to the number of illegal deeds he has been suspected of being an accomplice in. Suspected being the key word there. He was rather thorough and careful. A puzzle indeed. Despite having much information about his suspected crimes there was little to none personal information. Education, childhood, parents, family. As if he was nobody. I suppose that’s what Mycroft wanted me to investigate.

Everyone has a weakness Charlotte, if you find it, they’re yours.

His words ring in my ear. Precious but cold-hearted advice which he gave in my first years at the secret service. Before I was a famed interrogator there. I closed the file and leaned back, closing my eyes.

“Thank you, Megara. I think I’ll take my brother’s advice and take a short nap. Tell me when we arrive.”

“Of course, Ms.Holmes.”

[deardiary17]

WIP Sunday Tuesday

I was tagged by @saecookie . Thank you so much!

If there is one thing in the world that can warm my heart and lift my spirits, it’s Christmas and all the goodness and kindness that comes with it. It is why I’m currently working on something like that...on the 28th of September. I’m a madwoman.

Although, I must say, the snippet is not very kind and hopeful (yet! we're just at the beginning of the story!)

John can’t help it. He’s cold, his leg has been throbbing non-stop ever since yesterday’s blizzard, and he can’t tolerate the pompous, hypocritical celebration. If God were so merciful, would the pauper kids huddle near the bins, searching for warmth, would the Governess' husband leave her because she’d lost a child in labour, would John be standing there, heavily leaning on his cane, widowed, childless, a cripple because of war?

He snaps, almost biting the pink lady’s giving hand in a lace glove. Too fancy to keep one’s palms warm, just a silly trinket of a silly girl who deems herself a benefactor to them all.

tagging @inkwardspots @loupettes @xawkward-ariesx @galiifreywolf @kelkat9 @mel-mcz @candyholly @sherl-grey @late-to-the-fandom-party @flamesandpages if they want to. 

[companionjones]

Same (4/8)

Kind of requested by: @viper-official and @lilythemadqueen​

Request: I need a whole ass series based around this!!!!

Fandoms: Marvel, MCU, The Avengers, Spider-Man, Doctor Strange, BBC Sherlock

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader x Doctor Strange

Summary: With Sherlock in your ear, you head off to fight with the Avengers against Green Goblin and Doc Ock.

Warnings: Language!

Author’s Note: Head’s up, I’m not done writing all the parts to this. So if you’re following this story, there might be more chapters than eight, along with changes in this and other chapters after I post them.

Y/n----------Your name

S/h/n----------Superhero name

1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 (original chapter posted)

The original version of this, also what will probably turn out to be the sixth chapter chronologically: Same

*******

    “Thanks for the lift, Thor,” you smiled as the god dropped you in the middle of the battle field. Thor returned your smile, and responded in his usual grand voice, “Of course, s/h/n,” then took off again.

    Doc Ock and Green Goblin set up shop by the docks in a few warehouse. They hired a couple hundred goons to follow their orders and hide the root of their plans. It was your job to lessen the henchmen population with Natasha and Clint. The archer and the assassin had already started their assault on every minion in sight.

    “Go for the five to your right first, then you will have access to the top of that storage container, and you’ll have the high ground.”

    Following Holmes’ instructions, you jumped up a couple walls to get on top of the storage container. “Thank you, Sherlock.” You didn’t hear anything in response, but you weren’t expecting to.

    From where you were, you could see that Clint was about to be overwhelmed. You used your power to send concentrated energy blasts to knock down and knock out several of his attackers.

    “How ya doin’, Sherl?” you apprehensively asked through the ear pieces.

    Sherlock’s monotone voice replied, “Why do you ask?” He sounded impatient. He probably didn’t like you paying attention to him when you were supposed to be fighting.

    “Well, um, so...those are my powers.” You wished in that moment that you had a previous opportunity to showcase your abilities to Sherlock because then you would read his face to get his first thoughts on your powers.

    There was a pause before he acknowledged, “That was obvious enough.” His hesitation revealed enough of his uneasiness.

    Clint pulled you out of your thoughts. “You mind if we switch Y/n? I see--”

    “Better from a distance,” you finished with him with a smirk. “Yeah, sure. I’m in the mood for some hand-to-hand, anyway.”

    Clint squinted as he tried to decipher what you said. “Say again?”

    “I’m in the mood for hand-to-hand, anyway!” You enunciated a little more, and repeated a little louder. You flipped off the storage container to rejoin Natasha on the battlefield.

    Her words were breathy as she kicked down a few enemies and jokingly expressed, “Welcome back.”

    You and Romanoff had always fought well together. The two of you stood back to back as the battle raged on.

    About five minutes later, Steve’s voice sounded though your ear piece, “Uh, Y/n? I could use you a bit over here!”

    Natasha rolled her eyes. “Rogers, you really can’t do anything by yourself, can you?”

    Steve’s smirk was auditory. “You know what, Romanoff...”

  �� She turned to you and smoothly urged, “You better get going.” Natasha knocked out another henchman.

    Thor and Steve were fighting a bit of a ways away. You took of in their direction.

    Holmes suddenly warned you, “Six men, 9 o’clo--”

    They were all knocked out by an energy blast before Sherlock finished talking. You’d seen them coming. “You know, I’ve been doing this without you for years, Sherlock,” you cheekily pointed out.

    He quickly informed, “Another group of twenty-three coming up behind you.”

    You whipped around and immediately started half-fighting, half-blasting your way out.

    Sherlock suggested, “Take that one and use him as a shield for those three. Once they get close enough...left hand to the neck...just throw the man at that one. Use your ability to take out those five. Work in layers, and treat them like dominos. Your abilities should finish them off.”

    You carried out Sherlock’s orders as he gave them. Once you were done, you awkwardly thanked him.

    He didn’t say anything, but you could hear his smugness in the silence.

    You moved on to Steve, and you found him in the middle of about ten men. You used both hands to make an energy blast to get him free. It was the most strength you had used so far that day, and you stumbled a little once the energy left you.

    With his hands on your shoulders, Steve steadied you. “You okay?”

    “Yeah, I’m good,” you responded quickly, blinking a few times to get your bearings.

    Sherlock worried in your ear, “Y/n--”

    “I’m fine, Sherlock. I promise,” you confirmed as fast as the words could leave your mouth.

    Thor backed you up with a smile. “Y/n is telling the truth. I’ve witnessed S/h/n conquer hundreds feeling much worse than they are now.”

    “Thank you, Thor,” you chuckled.

    His words seemed to be enough to hold Sherlock at bay.

    “Guys, do you think I’m doing okay?” Peter suddenly asked, swooping in with his web attached to a large crane. Once his feet were on the ground, he proceeded to spin a silk trap around several henchmen.

    Thor knocked them away with Stormbreaker. “You are doing marvelous you boy!”

    “Yes,” Steve agreed, “Very impressive.”

    “Peter, you gotta remember, you brought these two guys to us in the first place,” you pointed out, “You’re the one who got me looking into them. You’re doing fine, bud.”

    He took a moment to smile at you before he caught a fist heading for his face. He, you, Steve, and Thor all went back to your lighting responsibilities.

    “Who was the boy?” Sherlock questioned.

    Peter wasn’t at the facility when introductions were going around.

    “Peter Parker. He’s one of our newer recruits. The six you met today; Tony, Steve, Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Thor; we were all the original team. Strange actually came after Peter. A couple people did. But we still treat Pete as the new kid ‘cause he’s so young.”

    Parker defended himself over the comms, “And I would really like it if you stopped doing that!”

    While you were laughing, a big green lump of muscle launched itself into the sky to pull down a helicopter the opposing side had called in.

    For the first time in a long time, you heard genuine surprise in Sherlock’s voice. “WHAT the HELL was THAT?!”

    He sounded a lot like John.

    “That was Hulk,” you informed, fully aware of how scary the sight was, “You’ve technically already met him. He’s also Bruce Banner...It’s almost a Jekyll/Hyde sort of deal,” you added on that last part as a bit of an explanation when Sherlock went silent.

    He didn’t sound withdrawn, just thoughtful when he replied, “I see.”

    You chuckled, and just then, a large electrical blast caught your eye. It came from inside the main warehouse on the property.

    “Alright ladies, gents, and other crime-fighters. Here comes our climax,” you announced. You jumped around a little to hype yourself up and keep your blood flowing.

    Peter’s voice came through the comms again. “Isn’t that where Dr. Strange and Mr. Stark went?”

    Thor agreed, “The boy’s right. And it is also true that our two friends have been awfully quiet over the devices in our ears.”

    “Great,” you sighed, silently hoping Tony and Steven were okay. “You guys stay out here. I’ll call out if I need backup.”

    “But what about Strange and Mr. Star--” Peter tried to disagree.

    “Peter, I don’t want you going in there, not right now.” You reasoned, “All of you have your hands full enough out here, and technically, there’s only two guys in there.”

    Steve interjected, “Y/n--”

    “I’ll be fine,” you assured. “I love protecting you guys anyway,” you added as a half-joke. Then, “I feel fine.” That statement had a different air to it. You could practically hear Sherlock’s quizzical gaze through the comms.

    For convenience, or maybe because you wanted to make the extra effort to show that you were completely stable, you used bursts of energy to skillfully fly yourself up and enter though one of the large windows near the roof the factory. Bad idea. When you landed, you were clearly unbalanced on your feet. It took you a moment to get over the nausea.

    “Ah, Y/n. We’ve heard so much about you,” Osborn greeted you with an odd politeness, given the situation.

    Otto did nothing to dissuade his and Norman’s nature. “We’ve also seen you a lot because of how much you’ve been following us, especially at night.”

    It didn’t bother you that your enemies noticed their tail. You turned to their captives. “Hey, guys.”

    Tony was trapped in one of Doc Ock’s mechanical tentacles. He waved a hand on an arm that was mostly stuck to his side.

    Steven was in a cage below Green Goblin’s hoverboard. “Pleasure to see you again,” he sarcastically remarked.

    “Go ahead,” you urged Osborn and Otto, “Tell me your big evil plan.”

    Neither of them chose to talk. Rather, a metal tentacle was shot at you.

    Aggressively moving your arm, you deflected the tentacle with your ability. You ignored how the room shifted for a moment. You breathed, “Okay, so we’re doing this.”

    You were more tired than you thought you were. Fighting two people--two clever people at that--took a lot out of you. Maybe you shouldn’t have used your abilities so much earlier, you thought. You could barely keep up with your adversaries.

    At one point, you were holding yourself up in the air. You glanced down, and you almost dropped. A pained grunt left your lips then.

    “Y/n?” Sherlock immediately called out. “Are you okay?”

    “I’m fine,” you griped quickly. To prove your point, you sent a large energy blast to knock Green Goblin off his hoverboard.

    Just as you did that, a large container caught your eye. You saw some wording on it, but you couldn’t quite make out what it was. You crawled up one of Doc Ock’s moving claws so you could get at the man. You hit his vengus nerve to knock him out while you checked out the suspicious box. Osborn was still recovering from falling from about 30 feet in the air.

    After fighting his way out of Ock’s then-slack tentacle, Tony caught up to you as you inspected the container. “What is it?”

    “Tony...” you gasped out in shock.

    Over the comms, Steve repeated, “What is it?”

    “Shh...Don’t give away the surprise!” Osborn was awake. He was behind you, too.

    Out of no where, a tight metal necklace was snapped around your neck, and Tony was taken away by those tentacles separate from Otto’s body. Those were built into the walls. Doc Ock had regained consciousness as well.

    “Shit,” both you and Tony cursed.

    Sherlock’s voice was in your ear. “What’s wrong? What is it, Y/n?”

    Before you answered, you attempted to use your powers to fight again. It didn’t take.

    “What the hell?!” you shouted.

    “Again?” Tony groaned as he struggled.

    Over the many yells of concern in your ear, you heard Octavius explain, “That is made from the same technology as that cage holding your friend. I whipped it up myself, and I’m quite proud of it. I think I’m really getting used to all this magic stuff.”

    You were furious. While looking Ock straight in the eye, you informed your team of the new technology he had. Osborn came at you in an attempt to shut you up. You fought him off, no powers involved. “And that thing Tony and I saw? It was a bomb. A big ass bomb. They’re trying to nuke the city--AH!” Ock hit you with one of his claws.

    Norman Osborn defended his and the doctor’s cause. “That’s only if the city doesn’t give us the money we want!”

    Glancing between your two adversaries, you thought back to what you saw on the container. There was a timer. You fought your way out of the thick of it and got up to the rafters, but you didn’t run. You only got out of their sight.

    “Okay, guys,” you called out over the comms, “Bad news.”

    Thor’s voice was most prominent. “Y/n, thank the gods! We’ve been trying to barge our way in, but Octavius and Osborn have locked up the place.”

    “That’s okay. I don’t want you guys in here, anyway. I don’t want you anywhere near this place,” you warned.

    Natasha’s voice was full of apprehension. “You better not be thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

    “The bomb has a timer, guys. There’s only about five minutes left.” You shook your head.

    Clint argued, “So, stop the timer! You know how to diffuse bombs!”

    “I do, and I know how to diffuse this one,” you confirmed, “but there’s not enough time. There wouldn’t even be enough time for you to do this one, Sherlock. It’s Wilheim-Stevenson.” You gave him the type of bomb that you saw. “...I’m gonna do it,” you practically whispered. “This technology was made with Strange in mind. I can overpower it.”

    “No,” Steve immediately disagreed. “No, Y/n. You put yourself under too much strain today. Who knows what would happen to you.”

    “What do you me--” Peter started to ask, but then he remembered, “Oooohhh...”

    “We know exactly what would happen, I’d be fine in a week, tops.”

    Sherlock tried to cut in, “Y/n--”

    Steve unintentionally cut him off, “You don’t know that!”

    “Listen, I am doing this, whether you like it, or not,” you finalized, turning to put your plans in motion.

    Then, Sherlock sounded in your ear again. “Y/n...” He was trying to hide it, because of course he was, but he sounded so worried to you.

    “Okay, I’m about to do another crazy thing,” you explained, “I know you’ve been dealing with crazy things all day, and I’m sorry. I’m going to ask Strange to take you back once this is all over.”

    Sherlock clenched his teeth. “Why wouldn’t you come with me?”

    “Listen, I don’t think I’m going to die.”

    “You what?”

    “I’m going to use a large amount of my energy to take care of all this. Like a bomb of my own...but safer. I’ve done this before, but--”

    Sherlock finished for you, “You’ve used a lot of your ability today. It most likely isn’t safe.”

    “What usually happens is I go into a sort of coma for about a week. It’ll probably just be longer now.”

    There was silence on his end of the line.

    “I know myself, Sherlock. I can do this.”

    Still nothing, but you knew that if Sherlock still objected completely, he would’ve said something by then. You took out your earpiece.

    Quietly hopping down to the floor again, you freed Strange without Osborn or Octavius noticing.

    “Free Tony too, then both of you get out of here,” you ordered, “I don’t want you two getting wrapped up in this.”

    “Don’t tell me you’re going to--”

    “And don’t tell me you’re going to fight me on this, too,” you pushed. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. Just get Tony, and go.”

    Strange didn’t say anything else, but he did reach a hand out to your cheek. He lightly stroked it with his thumb.

    Never did either of you say anything about your feelings for each other. It was the same with Sherlock. Realizing you how you felt about both men made you dread even more the day someone would act on their thoughts.

    Steven just took a deep breath and nodded. He let you go.

    Strange used his abilities to distract Doc Ock and Green Goblin, and free Tony. He even landed a few hits, too.

    Otto and Osborn were knocked out by the time you glanced out the window to see your team backing away. You took a few minutes to crack some joints and shake yourself out.

    Just as the two villains were waking up, you did it. You heard their screams as you let it all loose.

    The process was overwhelming to say the least. Your energy came through in vibrations starting the tips of your fingers. Then, the shaking moved up into your arms, down your sides, into your legs, back up into your torso, then finally through your head. With your whole body shaking, you disassociated completely. Your vision turned white.

    Your last thoughts were of Steven and Sherlock. You desperately hoped that you would see them again soon.

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment if you have the time. If you would like to read more, I have more fics on the MCU and BBC Sherlock over on my page. You should check it out. Thanks again! Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[iamdorka]

„Could I please request a 'Dating ______ would include:' bullet point headcanon for Colson, Dom and Pete respectively? I love your writing; thank you 🖤”

So here I thought about 5 random scenarios (while dating of course) and how each of them would react/behave in that case, so basically I put my own spin on this request. Hope you will like it. But I have to add that your request made me think about this type of writing, so maybe in the future I will bring you some extra writing too.

- taking couple selfies

Colson: Colson would be the type who says that he hates taking photos, but actually he loves it, especially the couple selfies, because he adores you and when you are taking a selfie of both of you and the picture turns out great, your smile is the cutest thing on Earth, he says. Of course usually it doesn’t turn out great for the first couple of times and after the 500th attempt he gets bored and starts to make fun of you, but you are always quite determined so you keep going and when there is a great photo he actually gets more in love with you, every fucking time.

Dom: Dom would love taking pictures with you. Yeah, you are an addict but he is your partner in crime in that too. Like his mind is just as crazy as yours and if something involves the two of you, that’s 100% sure that there will be photo evidence of that, probably posing like the most idiot, badass couple in the town. Your camera roll may have a few(!!!) selfies of yourself, but maybe there are even more couple selfies.

Pete: Okay… but Pete would be the absolute worst in this scenario. Like when you would take out your phone, he would be actually scared because he hates seeing himself on photos and first you didn’t really understand this and for you it was hard to accept it, as you are a photo addict, but after some time you got it. So when he was willing to join in your craziness, it was something special, you knew that and you really appreciated that. One of the cutest thing was when he returned to Instagram, after a quite long period, the first pic he posted was one of your couple selfies.

- taking care of him when he is sick

Colson: He is the worst sick person ever, like you know that if boys are sick they tend to overdramatize it but oh boy… what he usually does in the case is next level. Your friends get to used to the hangover Colson (which is also some extreme shit) but the sick Colson is even worst. Yeah… that could happen. You thank God that his immune system is quite strong, even after all those shit that he has consumed, but when he somehow gets sick you try your best the cure him because you have your limits too and sick Colson can get you closer to them very easily.

Dom: Doesn’t matter how old he is, he usually acts like a child, like in the sweetest way, especially when he is around you. So it isn’t a surprise after all that when he is sick… he turns into a child even more. He doesn’t really understand that you have to keep your distance even if you are the one taking care of him, because his neediness becomes quite strong and he is able to throw tantrums if he doesn’t get you near him. About getting the medicines in him… you wouldn’t even want to start talking, because that’s always an interesting challenge.

Pete: Pete is a quite sick, like is he has some aching parts he doesn’t even tell you about it, you usually figure it out on your own because you see something slightly has changed in his usual behavior. Of course you immediately begin to act like his nurse because you don’t like knowing that he is suffering and he does exactly everything what you ask him to do. He is the best patient ever, if you can say so, also he likes this special attention but he would never admit this to you.

- celebrating your birthday with him for the first time

Colson: Getting together with him was a quite a wild ride, and being with him pushed you out of your comfort zone in so many scenarios, so when your birthday finally arrived you weren’t even surprised that the little party which he threw you turned into the biggest house party he threw in a while and this is a big thing, because when they throw a party it’s big… but this was 10 times bigger. And everybody got the chance to get to know you, like he is the king of the gang… and that day you became his forever queen. Everybody knew, even before, that they can’s mess with you, but after this it was obvious that you are his ride and die. His girl.

Dom: The thing is he was probably even more excited about your birthday than you were, which is a pretty big thing because damn you love your birthday, it’s your own national holiday and it was quite weird for you to share this excitement with somebody else but the enthusiasm of his was so adorable. He planned a whole music festival themed birthday party for you in his garden because he knew how much you live for those events. He even spoke to some of your favorite artists and with them he made a special birthday video just for you which when appeared on the big screen made you cry like never before. He just couldn’t understand how lucky a girl you are with him by your side.

Pete: Pete likes to stay in, smoke and just eating junk food and usually you are his partner in that, but for your birthday you just wanted to do something that you don’t usually do and that’s when Pete told you that he has everything in control, you just have to follow his instructions. That’s how he took you out for a fancy sushi restaurant which was actually the best thing because damn you ate everything up there and he was so happy that he could make you this happy. And the fact that he decided to took you out, and he enjoyed it too, he who prefers to stay in 24/7 was your biggest birthday present ever, like you knew this, between you two was something really special.

- getting up to catch an early flight to the other side of the country

Colson: Even after being with him for months you still couldn’t understand how he can function with that little sleep hours he got, so when he knew that he has to be up really early he decided not even go to bed, which for him was normal, but you just didn’t want to do as him and tried to convince him to go to bed with you, sleep a bit because sleeping on a plane is never the best option but he was quite stubborn…. but you had your ways and after some time you won. That’s why after like 3 hours sleeping waking up was the cruelest thing to do but you suffered together… as always. Of course you would never admitted that those 3 hour sleep just worsened the situation and without it everything would have been better but that’s just your stubbornness which he loved.

Dom: If he sleeps 6 hours, he has way more energy than necessary, if he sleeps 8 hours or more… he has even more energy, this guy is like he is always on some kind of drug without taking it actually, so when you had to be up at 4am he somehow woke up before you and when your alarm went off you woke up for a big cup of coffee and a cute breakfast. You couldn’t even open your eyes properly but he was almost out of your apartment already.

Pete: Coming off from some mushrooms when you had to leave for the airport wasn’t your best timing ever to be honest. But at least you didn’t suffer as much as you would have otherwise. Pete has some unique ideas to soften the situations and getting high almost everytime was involved in those solutions but this time you couldn’t really decide if you regretted it or not. When time is literally an illusion for you getting somewhere in time was a quite big challenge so when you woke up on the plane, on the right plane, on your chest of your boyfriend you were quite proud of yourself.

- him cheering you up when you had a fucked up day

Colson: He knew that when you are pissed off, tired there are two options: he needs to keep his distance and give you some time to cool off first alone or be by your side and doesn’t leave your side, not for a minute. These options usually ended up in some angry making out sessions, with heavy touching, not saying a word but there were times when he just mixed everything together… he knew you well. He knew exactly when he shouldn’t even open his mouth because he just could worsen the situation… that’s when usually he turned to music. Without even saying a word, just mumbleing to his live piano playing, letting to fill the house with his ryhtm you tried to reach you… and it worked even when it didn’t.

Dom: When you needed a good laugh… you could count on your boyfriend because sure he is some funny guy, so when you hava a long day and all you wanna do is just… not to exist you are really grateful that you go home to a place where he is there. Some light hearted comedy or stand up, letting him order some food and watching him impersonating the comedians was the highlight of those days. He knows that he is funny and to be able to make your messed up day just a little bit better he would be willing to do anything, literally and figuratevly…. because when his other half is in pain, he is in too.

Pete: Staying at home, like an old couple was your go to date option, like always. But when you arrive home saying that you will never ever not even consider leaving the house because you hate everything and everybody and you stay with that idea for quite sometime he starts to worry. And when you just can’t do anything right because you break everything, everything slips out of your hand he just carefully goes to you, hugs you and takes control over everything, even your body. He leads you to the nearest bar chair in the kitchen, sits you down and makes you a sandwich and cup of your favorite tea… and doesn’t say a word, he waits until you want to talk about it. These little things are the ones what make you love him more and more everyday. Nothing big, nothing special, just simple things.

Tag list (write me if you wanna be on it❤)

@echelonwonderland @no-shxt-sherl @kissedbystrangerswaterbottle @bakerkells @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @mgk-rooklover1997 @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @southernmgkpunk @thegunnerkelly @findingmyths @painkillerash @rosesinmars @rosegoldrichie @pinksocktingz @itjustkindahappenedreally @cclynn88 @bluehairedtracii @rumoured-whispers @estxxbritt

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

Physical Affection Pt 2 (Mycroft X Fem!Teen!Reader )*PLATONIC

Characters: Mycroft X Fem!Teen!Reader, Sherlock x Fem!Teen!Reader

Universe: Sherlock

Warnings: None

Request: 😊 I adored the fic in which Reader is all cuddly and has a parental relationship with Sherlock do I would very much a part 2 of it revolving around Reader and Mycroft? Like he didnt get used to her yet but because Sherl is away cause of a case he lets Myc babysit her and she is all attentive, kind and especially cuddly and she kinda grows on him. Lots of fluff please 💕 thank you

“Are you sure I can’t come with you?” You asked once again to Sherlock. Sherlock had lost count of how many times you had asked that, but he wasn’t annoyed by it. He could see the anxiety etched into your face, and simply put his arm around you and tried to soothe you.

“I’m afraid not. It’s far too dangerous and the last thing I want is for you to get hurt. I promise, it’ll just be for a few days.” He assured as the taxi pulled up to the large house. You seemed to almost flinch at the sight of it, trying to get closer to Sherlock. 

He understood why you were so nervous. This was the first time he had to leave your side for a long period of time. Knowing there was a risk he might not come back, and that you’d lose someone else you’d cared about, Sherlock wasn’t thrilled about leaving you here either, especially since Mycroft and you had never really interacted. Come to think of it, he couldn’t recount you ever speaking directly to Mycroft. Still, this was the safe option, and when it came to you, Sherlock refused to risk it. 

The taxi stopped, and Mycroft was waiting outside, him coming up and opening the door to the taxi. Sherlock got out first, pulling you out and standing you beside him. “Hello Y/N.” Mycroft greeted you, but despite his best effort, it was still awkward. 

“Hey…” You responded, just as awkward. 

“Why don’t you go in and find a bedroom to sleep in?” Sherlock pushed you lightly, and you walked inside the house, leaving the two brothers outside. 

“How soon will you be back?” 

“Can’t be certain, at least 3 days. Now this may be out of your comfort zone, but I need you to suck it up and give her a hug if she needs it.” 

The trip took longer than Sherlock liked, ending up getting back after a week. John had offered to go get you so he could take a break since he was exhausted, but Sherlock insisted. He almost felt awful for depriving you of what made you feel safe and comfortable, and knowing his brother he knew that you’d be in desperate need of hugs and assurance. 

However, when he arrived at the house, he got a very pleasant surprise. 

“You took your time.” Mycoft commented to his brother, making you laugh, especially with the look of shock on his face. You were cuddled up against Mycroft, with Mycroft sat up and having an arm around you. “We were just settling down.” 

“Well should I leave you two here?” Sherlock commented as a joke, finally getting you to get up and come and hug him. 

“Missed you.” You told him before you went to get your things. Mycroft got up as well, but stayed in the room. 

“I see you’ve coped rather well.” Sherlock commented, and Mycroft smiled. 

“Took a day or two, but we warmed up to one another. At least now you know that if there's an emergency she’ll be okay here.” Mycroft told him, and Sherlock hummed and nodded. Soon you came back with your things, giving a final hug to Mycroft before you left with Sherlock. 

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS:  @courtneychicken​  @graysonmalfoy​ @bellero​ @originalpottervengerlock​ @supernatural-pan​ @esoltis280​ @lena-stan-xavier​ @lady-of-lies​ @sebstanismylife​ @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980​ @cdwmtjb8​ @caswinchester2000​ @determinedpines​ @holy-tea-cup-blog​  @waywardemo​ @sassy-specter​

[naehja]

11 Years

Professor Layton: I can't believe that I missed 11 years of my children's life.

Katrielle: Yeah uncle Des has said that he would have some words with you when I call him sooner to tell him that you are back. You know that he got into a rampage when you vanished?

Professor Layton: haha... Katrielle: He was here for us everytime that we needed it. Katrielle: Uncle Randy, Uncle Henry and Aunt Angela send us money for our studies and invited us for holidays.  Professor Layton: It's nice =) 

Professor Layton:  I'm happy that my brother and friends were here for you. Professor Layton: I can”t believe that you are 21 and that you became a detective. I'm so proud of you. Katrielle: Alfendi became a inspector of scotland yard. Professor Layton: That's great too ^^ Katrielle: He has been shot 5 year ago and have two personalities now. But he’s fine with it now. Professor Layton: WAIT....HE WHAT? Katrielle: He has a girlfriend named Lucy. Well...she is his fiance now. Professor Layton, still shocked: That's...great too. Katrielle: He gonna punch you so hard when he'll know that you returned. Professor Layton: haha... Luke: What about Flora? Katrielle: Married and she has had her first child one year ago. Professor Layton, tears on his eyes: that's perfect. Luke: What about you? Katrielle: I have a dog and a boyfriend. Sherl: I'M NOT YOUR DOG!!! Ernest: WHY I COME AFTER SHERL? Professor Layton: Boy...Boyfriend? Luke, laughing weakly: a lot of things can happen in 11 years, right? Professor Layton, in tears: you were 10 last time i have seen you!!

[sixtyfourk]

For the ask, Katrielle and Ernest, AU where somehow his mother is missing instead of dead?

Absolutely! Thank you so much for asking, and I'm so sorry for taking so long with this! It turned out much longer than I expected. The AO3 link to it is here, but I'll also put it below a read-more here as well.

...

The wind rushes through Kat’s hair as she pedals her way down Chancer Lane, her heart pounding in her ears. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the concerned glance of the waiter from the cafe, and the curious stare of Aleks Lipski as he looks up towards her through the bakery window. Quickly, she summons up a smile, throwing her arm in the air and waving as she passes them by. Then, she turns her eyes back to the road, her smile fading as she puts all of her energy into her pedalling, her mind focused solely on her mission.

She’s not panicking. Of course not.

Everything is fine.

But it’s so unlike Ernest to not show up at the agency, let alone for days at a time, without letting her know. And it’s even more unlike him to ignore her calls. Something isn’t right.

Kat hadn’t noticed the first day that he’d been missing. The Layton Detective Agency is buzzing with activity these days: after the news spread that Dad had returned, the people who had been searching for him for all this time gravitated to Kat’s little agency like moths to a flame. Kat’s seen so many people that she hadn’t seen for months or years within the space of a few weeks. Al, Lucy, Flora, and so many others crowded themselves into the building, chatting and crying and laughing, and Kat had been right in the thick of it all, lost in the excitement of Dad’s return.

Within all the chaos, it makes sense that an ordinary person wouldn’t notice Ernest’s absence; he’s quiet at the best of times. But Kat should’ve noticed. She’s solved a hundred mysteries like they were nothing. She’s more observant than the whole police force put together. She should’ve noticed that her loyal assistant wasn’t there.

The weekend passed uneventfully; Katrielle didn’t bother going to the agency, busy as she was with her family. She’d left a message at Ernest’s number, letting him know that she wouldn’t be there. It didn’t bother her too much that he didn’t pick up; it was the weekend, after all.

But come Monday morning, Ernest still wasn’t at the agency, and this time, it was impossible to shrug off his absence. She’d tried to call him in the morning, but there had been no answer. Somewhat rattled, she’d forced a smile and settled down to do some reading and paperwork on her own. Of course, she missed her usual morning tea (yes, she’s capable of making it herself, but Ernest’s tea always tastes best), and she missed simply having him around; the agency just doesn’t feel the same with only she and Sherl in it. But in the end, she’d shrugged it off as best as she could. Perhaps Ernest had slept in today, or wasn’t feeling well. It had been a hectic past few weeks, after all. And perhaps he had been in the agency yesterday, and she just somehow hadn’t noticed.

She left one more call before going home. Still no reply.

Surely he’d be here tomorrow.

But he wasn’t.

Three days without coming to the agency… five days if you count the weekend… Surely she’s not being overly anxious about this? A five day absence isn’t something that she can play off as normal or unusual; it’s completely unlike Ernest to do something like this.

“He’s still not here, Sherl,” she’d said this afternoon, fighting to keep her tone of voice neutral and curious. “Do you… do you think everything’s alright?”

She wasn’t anxious. No, not at all. But she needed Sherl’s reassurance.

“He hasn’t had a day off since Christmas, Kat,” Sherl had said, yawning as he curled up on the sofa. “And you wouldn’t even let him have that whole day off. Even the most loyal of dogsbodies need a chance to curl up and have a rest now and then.”

“But it’s been five days if you count the weekend, and he hasn’t answered any calls.”

Sherl cracked one eye open, then the other, his face creasing into something like a frown. “Well. It is unlike him to leave you on paws like that.” Katrielle could hear the doubt creeping into Sherl’s voice with every word that he spoke.

That’s when she knew that she had to see if Ernest was alright.

If there’s nothing wrong, she can downplay it to Ernest and to Sherl, or to Dad if he asks, playing it off as one of her many whims. Oh, she just happened to want to go on a bike ride, just wanted to burn off some nervous energy on her way home from the agency. And she wouldn’t be lying, not really. She has to get home somehow; she’ll just be taking the scenic route, passing by Ernest’s flat. The… very long, out-of-the-way scenic route, but...

...she won’t be able to sleep tonight until she makes sure that he’s alright.

The sun is already setting by the time she arrives at Bowlyn Hill. Kat throws a half-nervous glance over her shoulder at the statue, with the massive globe upon its shoulders, before making her way down the hill. She’d like to make it to Ernest’s flat alive, if possible.

Before last Christmas Eve, before that evening at Richmond Court, Katrielle hadn’t known that Ernest lived in this part of town, but in hindsight, it makes perfect sense. He had known so much about the area during the Ratman case, and, since he grew up with such a small income, it makes sense that he would live in this area.

Before that night, Kat had really known almost nothing about Ernest. And still, she really knows very little about him, other than the tragic history of his family. He’s still a very private person: of course, he spends most of every day with her, but he works constantly during that time, and certainly doesn’t waste time chatting when he could be cleaning or sorting something that Kat’s made a mess of. And then, he goes home, alone.

At least Kat knows where he lives now: she’s visited his flat once or twice, dropping off something he’s left at the agency, or bringing over one of Rosa’s many treats that she’s “made too much of.” But still, Kat isn’t exactly a Bowlyn Hill regular; it’s easy to get lost here, amid the twisted alleyways and dark roads. She half-wonders if she’s going to get lost as she pedals her way through the streets as quickly as she dares.

At last, Kat pulls up in front of the building where Ernest’s flat is located. The building is noticeably newer and taller than others nearby, but is still coated with the same grime that covers so much of the surrounding area. At least it appears to be all in one piece, unlike many of the other buildings in this area. While some buildings in Bowlyn Hill, like Mrs. Slow’s tailor shop, have a sense of charm, there are many others that are in horrible disrepair.

Kat casts a wary glance behind her toward the old hospital, shut down almost ten years ago, which looks like something out of one of Flora’s murder mysteries. She’d heard the stories of how Dad had been beaten, so many years ago, and had stayed in this very place for weeks. While the Ratmen patrol the streets now and hopefully keep Bowlyn Hill from seeing any more violence like what Dad experienced, Kat can’t help but feel anxiety stir up in her stomach. Did something like that happen to Ernest? Is that why he’s been absent? Is he lying battered in some lonely alley?

Fighting back nausea, Kat hurriedly dismounts from her bicycle, clumsily leaning it against the wall as she rushes to the door of the building, tripping over her own feet as she reaches for the handle—

The door opens.

“M-Miss Layton!”

Ernest stands before her, shock dawning over his face.

He’s alright.

A wave of relief gently washes over Katrielle, and a second wave of self-consciousness slaps her in the face. He’s completely fine, and yet she rushed here in a panic, almost barging through his front door. This is why she should think through things more logically; she shouldn’t let her emotions get the better of her like this…

“I-I’m dreadfully sorry.”

Kat startles, snapping back into reality. Why is he apologizing? She stares at him in confoundment, noticing how he stares through the floor, his hands coming up and clumsily attempting to smooth back his uncombed hair. “It’s been days, I know,” he stutters. “I sincerely apologize… I should have been there; you shouldn’t have had to come look for me...”

Kat realizes too late that she’s simply been standing here, silently staring at him, ever since he flung the door open. She forces a chuckle. “What? Did you think that I came here to scold you?” Kat uses her usual teasing tone, but it’s far from genuine. Is he really that afraid of disappointing her?

Perhaps he’s not alright after all.

“W-well…” Ernest’s fingers slow their movement through his hair, his hand pausing above his eyes. He slowly looks up, meeting Katrielle’s gaze, his gaze half-hidden by his hand. Kat notices, for the first time, the dark circles under his eyes. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I promised myself that I’d do everything I could to help you, and I’ve failed once again.”

Any irritation that Kat might’ve felt at Ernest’s unexplained absence has completely vanished at this point. Her curiosity is in overdrive, but given Ernest’s state, it seems like some tact is called for.

“Nonsense,” she says, gently but matter-of-factly. “Now that we’ve found Dad, the greatest purpose of the Agency has been fulfilled. So I don’t need…” She was about to say that she didn’t need help anymore, but that would wound Ernest’s pride.

(And it would be a lie).

She amends her statement. “I don’t need constant help anymore. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“But… but I like helping you.” Ernest bites his lip. “I really do. But I just couldn’t this week, Miss Layton. I should have told you why, but, I…” He stares through the floor. “I… I’m just not sure what to do, and I didn’t want to burden you, when you’ve done so much for me.”

How could Ernest be a burden? Katrielle has helped countless people with simpler matters than whatever’s troubled Ernest so badly. Are her powers of observation so sub-par, that Katrielle didn’t know that he felt like he’d burden her by asking for help?

“It would hardly be a burden, Ernest.” She places a hand on his shoulder, summoning up a confident mask of a smile. “Any mystery solved—that’s my motto. And I want to solve the mystery of why my loyal assistant seems so worryingly unlike his normal self.”

Will this be enough for him to understand that she genuinely wants to help him?

Ernest blinks. He turns away from her once again, but not before Kat spots the pink colouring his cheeks. “I’m sorry to have made you worry about me,” he says slowly. “It’s… it’s been a difficult last few days. But, I… I’m glad you came.” A quiet smile colours his face, so small that it’s almost invisible. Perhaps Katrielle’s powers of observation aren’t completely unreliable after all.

Ernest breaks the silence, clearing his throat. “I was just about to go on a walk, if you’d care to join me, and I’ll try to explain, if you’ll allow me to.”

Kat slowly feels a genuine smile lighting up her own face. “Of course”

They walk together down the street, Katrielle walking her bicycle beside her. She’s not quite sure if the silence between them is comfortable or not—she’s still relieved that Ernest is physically alright, but there’s still something wrong. Will she be able to help him half as much as he’s helped her for all of this time?

Ernest stops suddenly, and Kat blinks, reorienting herself to reality. They stand before the gates of a cemetery. The iron gates are battered and rusted, and Kat can see moss growing over many of the tombstones.

“I come here every Wednesday,” Ernest says quietly as they enter the gates. They walk between the tombstones, the long, damp grass staining their shoes. “Mama passed on a Wednesday. It really wasn’t all that long ago, in the scheme of things, but it’s so hard to remember. It’s all a blur. One moment, I was talking to her in the hospital room, and the next… they’ve… they’ve taken her away.” He keeps walking, his head moving back and forth, his eyes scanning the tombstones on either side of him. “I never knew where she was buried. Nobody ever told me. I come here every week to look, to see if I can find her grave. But I’ve never found it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Katrielle says quietly. It’s difficult to know what else to say. She understands the grief of losing a parent as well as Ernest does. But she’d known in her heart that Dad was still alive, and that had given her the strength to go on, to become a great detective and to hone her skills, searching for him. Finding him had been a dream come true. But Ernest’s loss was permanent—

“But—” Ernest bursts out, breaking through Katrielle’s thoughts. “The group home where I stayed after Mama died called me Thursday night. And they said that…” His voice rises in pitch; his rapid breathing is barely constrained. “...that someone named Ms. Richmond came and… and was asking about me.”

Katrielle freezes. “What?”

Ms. Richmond...that must be—

“I know.” Ernest’s hands are shaking. “I don’t know what to think either. How could she still be alive? But I rushed to the group home as soon as I could. But I missed her, and they don’t know where she went. And I’ve been reeling ever since. I’ve called everywhere I could think of. I’ve scoured the city as best I can. And then, when I couldn’t find anything… I locked myself away because I’m… I’m afraid.”

“Afraid?” Katrielle repeats his last word gently, eager to find out any further details that Ernest might know.

“I… I don’t know what to do. What if I never find her? Or, what if I find her, and it turns out that she isn’t Mama?” Ernest lets his face fall into his hands. “I… I can’t bear to go through that again: to get my hopes up, only to lose her all over again.” He turns away, staring off into the sea of tombstones. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this. You have so many other things to think about. You can go home; I’m alright.”

Katrielle’s mind races. How could Ernest’s mother still be alive? A mix-up at the hospital, perhaps? Perhaps she was only at death’s door, and never truly died? Or could this be a bigger conspiracy?

What an intriguing mystery. One that will take a great detective to solve.

After all, Ernest has done so much to help her in her own search for Dad. It’s only fair that she does the same for him.

“Any mystery solved, Ernest.”

Ernest blinks, looking up at her with confusion in his eyes. “Pardon, miss?”

“Any mystery solved.” Kat gives him a smile, hoping that it comes across as reassuring. “It would be better to find out the truth, wouldn’t it? This mystery’s come across your path for a reason. If you don’t solve it, I know that you’d regret it.”

“Yes…” Ernest starts hesitantly. He clasps his hands together, staring down at them as he kneads them anxiously together. “But I… I don’t know where to start.”

“That’s why I’m going to help you. You’ve helped me look for my dad for so long. One good turn deserves another, wouldn’t you say?” She holds her hand out to him. “What do you say, Ernest?”

For what seems like forever, Ernest stands still, staring toward her; Kat can’t tell whether he’s dumbfounded or whether he’s going to cry.

Did she push too hard?

She’d never wanted to give up on searching for Dad, but in her darkest moments, there were times where she’d thought that it would have been easier if he had actually died, if she didn’t have to explain to everyone (including herself) that he was missing. She regrets thinking that way, but perhaps Ernest doesn’t. Perhaps he wants to leave the past in the past—

“Miss Layton…”

Ernest’s voice cuts through Kat’s thoughts. She blinks, refocusing her gaze on his face, noticing his tiny smile, and the teary shine in his eyes. “Thank you… thank you so much,” he says, his voice trembling. “Even… even you simply coming to see me means so much, but offering to help me…” He chuckles weakly, looking away, swiping at his eyes with one hand. “I’m supposed to be the assistant, but ever since I’ve known you, you’ve assisted me far more than I ever have assisted you.”

He’s far too hard on himself. “Nonsense, Ernest. You’re the best of assistants. It only makes sense that I’d want to help you now and again, don’t you think?” She sets her hand on his shoulder, hoping that it will come across as a comforting gesture. She’ll let go of a little of her pride, just this once; she wants to see him as his usual self again. “Besides, this is your case. So perhaps you don’t need to be an assistant this time.”

“O-oh! Well, that doesn’t sound right--you being my assistant.” Ernest chuckles again, but this time it sounds a little more natural; beneath her hand, Kat can feel the tension in his shoulder leaving by the second. He looks up, meeting her gaze with a hesitant smile. “But thank you. I… I do want your help, if you’re willing to give it to me.”

“Of course I am. Whenever you’re ready to begin the search, I’ll be there.”

Ernest smiles again, but Kat can still see pain behind his eyes.“I’m almost ready,” he says. “Just one moment.” He turns away. Kat watches his eyes scan the gravestones, as if searching one last time for the elusive stone engraved with his mother’s name.

She’s impatient to begin the search, but Kat forces her feet to stay still, forcing herself to stay silent as he surveys the graveyard. She’ll give him this moment. He helped her day in and day out searching for her father for more than a year. She can wait for him.

[bigbad-tardis]

Writing Tag Game!!!

I was tagged by @ask-the-almighty-google and @sherl-grey thanks!!!

how many works do you have on ao3?

13!! I’d have more just I have trouble convincing myself to post things. Hopefully with the Fic Marathon I’m hosting I’ll be able to publish more.

what’s your total ao3 word count?

146641 (WAIT ITS A PALINDROME)

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

-The Christmas Invasion

-In Screaming Color

-she who holds the future in her hands

-Auribus Teneo Lupum

-All the Words You Never Said

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try to respond to comments. Just to show my appreciation but it’s gotten hard to keep up or think of something to reply back.

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

She who holds the future in her hands was planned to end very angsty, but we haven’t gotten there yet

what’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

All the Words You Never Said or Auribus Teneo Lupum

do you write crossovers? if so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I wrote several chapters of an MCU crossover. Ten and Rose became besties with Steve Rogers and Rose was going to defeat Thanos

have you ever received hate on a fic?

No lol. Not very many people read my work

do you write smut? if so, what kind

No

have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge

have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yeah!! It never got posted but my three best friends and I planned an AU and wrote the first chapter

what’s your all-time favourite ship?

The Doctor and Rose

what’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

She Who Holds the Future in Her Hands. I’m just in a different place now than I was when I started writing it. And I’m not happy with the choices I made then so it’s hard to go back and work on it. I try not to ever abandon fics so maybe it’ll get finished, but idk

what are your writing strengths?

My plots! I’m really proud of my plots. The fic that has my current attention is super in depth with a plot I’ve been planning for months. Also I’d like to think I’m funny. (And my dialogue isn’t the worst)

what are your writing weaknesses?

Imagery, metaphors, not rushing through scenes I don’t want to write, getting into characters heads and revealing their thoughts. But I’m working on it!!

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Depends. If it’s a few words, I don’t mind, but if there’s enough of another language in the fic where you can’t understand it? It’s a pet peeve I must admit

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

The anime Fairy Tail! I was 12, so all of the fics are gone now, but I wrote quite a bit.

what’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

Probably All the Words You Never Said. I love writing companions meeting each other and Jo and Rose are some of my favorite companions. Here’s a snippet.

Rose peaked at her dimension cannon, finding the time she was in was either the 70s or 80s. The dimension cannon couldn’t pick a time. A shudder wracked her body and she coughed into her fist. The air was chilly, and the wind was picking up. It cut through everything except her dark jacket. She closed her eyes and pressed her hands to her forehead.

“Are you alright?” A young woman asked in front of her.

Rose looked through her fingers, and saw a young blonde woman, with layered hair and a short blue dress. There were several young women behind her. “Yeah, yeah,” Rose said, trailing off. “I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” the young woman said, sitting down next to her. She turned to her group. “Go on ahead, I’ll catch up with you another time.” One of them looked like they wanted to protest, but the other two dragged her off.

“You can go,” Rose rasped. “I really am fine.”

“No, you’re not. I’ve been around enough soldiers to know when someone is putting on a brave face. And I’ve certainly been around enough aliens to know when someone is out of time. You need help.”

“How did you know?” Rose asked, taking her hands off her face.

“Your clothes give it away, but the disk around your neck may have had something to do with it. Come on, I’ll take you somewhere we can patch you up. I know a good doctor.”

“Yeah?” Rose asked, wondering if she was thinking about the same man.

And I tag @sapphicmirasol and anyone else who wants to join it!

[asa-liz]

For the WIP meme, could you talk about Layton pets? :)

Sure! I have 3 short drafts in that file. The first one is how Dalston adopted his dog. He belonged to a rich family, but they just got bored as he grew up and just moved and left him behind, so Dalston took him in.

----

"Well, the dog is not what I expected... My wife and I are not taking him with us." He just said again.

People bought breed dogs as if they were some fancy item to display along the house, and got tired of them quickly. Especially now he was not a pup anymore. Bought a damn Rolex if you want to show your fortune.

"Are you just leaving him here!?"

"Well... if you want you can keep him."

"Fine." He said almost hissing, and decided not to said anything else, or it would be very inappropriate, as he thought a lot of different words to describe this individual.

---

(I headcanon he had an owner previous to Dalston because Dobermanns had their ears just like most dogs, and Dalston doesn't seem like the tipe of person who would get his dog's ears and tail cut for the looks)

***

The second one is about Sherl kind of venting, since he didn't look pleased when Kat just forgave his absence.

----

"I'm sorry, but I can't understand you like Kat or Luke." he apologises, so polite.

What assures me you wont go on another crazy travel to find more ancient relics? Why am I so worried... I haven't met Kat for so long... But I have heard her crying during the night because of you! She pretends to be stronger!

"You should have been there for her!"

He looks at me, confused. "Perhaps you are hungry? Mmm... Where is your food? I'm still not used to the house."

"You would be if you had been here. With her. Mfh."

***

The third one is just a silly self indulgent one about Keats proudly describing his job, I'm totally a cat person.

---

I have an important task. I collect puzzles and keep them safe for this trip. Granny Riddleton has trusted me with this mission.

The people here is very nice, the young boy can understand me, that's interesting! And it makes my work easier, he can tell me what puzzle they are looking for.

I found a comfortable spot on the couch. But I also love sleeping in their laps, it's so warm. Purr.

[harringtonstudios]

dusky pink.

plot: you’re called in for an emergency photoshoot, not really knowing what to expect, things can surprise you. part 2!

A/N: holy moly this is the most i’ve written! glad i got back in a mood. this is for the anon that asked about a model!au earlier, i hope you like it. 

taglist: @iamdorka​ @no-shxt-sherl​ @bakerkells​ @findingmyth​ @rosegoldrichie​

When you had gotten an emergency casting call from Galore Magazine, you hadn’t expected all this. YBeing an established model, you were  known for your unique photoshoots and uprising through runway walks. You had been in the industry for almost a full year now, feeling like a veteran when you were constantly being booked by different agencies. 

Galore Magazine was one of your first employers. They had allowed you to explore your creative side while posing for the camera, launching what the industry called your “brand.” You had developed a strong, personal relationship with the executive assistant of the magazine, and she would always offer you jobs when you felt like you needed something to do in order to keep busy. 

-

The phone call came in at 3am, disrupting a night out. You had immediately picked up, walking to the outside of a club after seeing her name flash on the screen. Within minutes, in a slightly tipsy haze, you had agreed to a two-day long shoot, confirming that you would be able to fly out in a few hours. 

The alcohol had settled into your bloodstream when you rushed to your apartment, throwing clothes into a duffel bag. The flight you were supposed to be on was scheduled to leave soon, and you knew that check-ins were going to be a bitch, so you grabbed a bagel from the 24/7 corner deli before setting off to get to the airport. 

It was only after you had settled into the airplane seat that you realized you weren’t exactly sure what you had said yes to. The alcohol from last night had drained out, leaving you with a pounding headache and you grimaced as the plane started lifting off. Pulling out your phone, you texted the editor of Galore, shamelessly asking what you had signed up for the night before. 

There were a few emojis exchanged and then finally, you got the creative plan for the shoot. It was supposed to be a Romeo-and-Juliet aesthetic, inspired by the 90s Leonardo DiCaprio version. You grinned, remembering how fully obsessed you were with that movie in your teenage years. The vibes had always seemed so beautiful, popping shadows and gold chains, it was something you were eager to emulate. 

As you read through the notes, you realized that they had a rapper coming in to play as Romeo. This threw you off, there was a certain way you modeled and when collaborating with others, you liked to be prepared beforehand. It wasn’t anything bad necessarily, you just liked to know your partners so that you could tweak your methods to their needs better. You took a breath before opening up Google to search up “Machine Gun Kelly.” 

There were a shit-ton of articles to sort through, mostly relating to his new album release, “bloom.” Scrolling through the different new posts, you bit your lip. He seemed nice enough,a few things catching your eye straight off the bat. The tattoos that lined his skin were amazing, creating a tinge of jealousy as you looked at all of them. Tattoos were your weakness, having about ten smaller ones yourself. This was going to be interesting.

-

Landing at the airport, you caught a Lyft straight to the set. Since this was an emergency fill-in, you didn’t have time to do much else, sighing as the Galore studio came into view. You loved being in California, the sun shining down on you, cobbled streets, lazing living and you really wanted to enjoy all of it. 

Right away, the front desk assistant shuffled you off to the hair and make-up room. The team had a very specific vision to execute and you smiled as their creation came to life. Putting on a natural, dewy look, you sat up straight, trying to make this process as easy as possible for everyone.

 Picking up tweezers, they aligned gems under your eyes, making the color pop. Lightly dusting some shimmery powder on your cheek, they moved on to your hair. Straightening it, they applied some sleeking oils before tying it back a little. All of a sudden, one of the top makeup executives came rushing in, holding a swatch of eyeshadow. 

“Put this on her! And make sure her lip color matches. Let’s go, hurry it up,” he clapped, throwing the palate to the artist working on you. You shut your eyes, letting fingers run over your eyelids. The color was a dusky pink and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt good. 

Applying some Vaseline on your lips before the pink gloss, you pursed your mouth together, blowing a kiss at the mirror. Glancing up, you caught the eye of someone standing behind you. 

Turning around, you looked up to see none other than Machine Gun Kelly, leaning against the doorway. His makeup seemed to be already done, matching the glow of yours. His hair was done up, looking soft and sharp at the same time. There was a scar on his cheek, cut open and you saw the eyeshadow shade splotched around it, creating dusky pink on top of his cheekbone. He was smiling at you and you felt a blush start to rise on your cheeks. 

“Promise I’m not that cocky. Ever,” you muttered, trying to avoid his warm gaze. 

“Cockiness is sexy,” he laughed, leaning over to reach out a hand, “I’m Kells.”

“Y/N,” you responded, giving him a loose handshake. 

“Oh c’mon, I know you can shake harder than that,” he grinned, gripping the tips of your fingers in his hand. 

“I mean, I could. But why would I want to?” you responded cheekily. Raising his eyebrows, he smirked, dropping your hand. 

“HEY YOU TWO! GET INTO COSTUME,” the executive assistant shouted as she passed by. Walking behind you, she leaned in to whisper, “Looks like someone’s getting along,” before going on her way. Feeling the blush climb just a little higher, you got up off the chair. 

“Costumes that way,” you murmured, pointing down the hall as Kells followed behind you.

 “So, you know a lot about Galore?” he asked and you smiled thinking of all the memories you had in these very rooms. 

“Yeah, they gave me my first big break yanno? I’ve been eternally indebted to them since,” you explained, letting your fingers trail over the walls covered in autographs. 

“Wow, big ups to you. Most people forget where they come from, glad to see you sticking to your roots,” he spoke as you turned into the room. 

“Mhm,” you whispered, immediately getting distracted by the racks that hung around the room. Colors popped out from every corner, complementing the golden shades on your faces. Reaching out to touch one of the satin shirts, you felt Kells nudge your elbow from behind. 

“I don’t think we’re supposed to touch those,” he murmured, nodding to the sign that the costume designer had hung up. 

“They’re beautiful, I have to. Fuck the rules,” you muttered, picking up one of the hangers off the rack. 

He gave you a look before mumbling, “That’s what I like to hear,” and then both of you were grabbing hangers, pulling clothes off of the racks. 

“Where do we change?” he asked, hands bunching up the expensive silky shirts. You knew the changing stations were next door, but you didn’t want to really walk over. 

Looking up at Kells, you smirked before going, “Right here?”

“Oh? Don’t have to tell me twice,” he said, throwing the shirts on one of the chairs in the room. Reaching to pull over his white t-shirt, he laughed, seeing your gaze on his bare torso. 

“Sorry, I um, haven’t seen so many tattoos on somebody,” you stuttered out, hands itching to reach across and touch. 

“I think that’s what they all say,” he said, running his tongue against his teeth. 

“Shut up, get naked,” you scoffed, turning around to hide the red of your cheeks.

 Pulling off your top, you reached for the first shirt you had grabbed, a deep blue button down. It wasn’t meant for you, reaching down to the tops of your thighs as you closed one of the lower buttons. The shoot was going to be in lingerie anyway, and you knew Kells would see your body, so there wasn’t any reason to hide it right now. Turning around, you presented yourself, throwing up jazz hands. 

He guffawed, palms reaching up to cover his mouth. Widening your eyes, you leaned over, putting your hands on top of his. 

“Stop, are you trying to get caught?” you shushed him, looking at the door for the costume director to walk in at any minute. 

“I’m sorry, you just look great, I. I can’t even come up with words,” he snickered as you moved your hands back. 

Flipping him off, you took a step back, admiring his look. He was wearing a deep pink suit, jacket open to reveal all his tattoos, pants tailored to his exact body shape. Looking him up and down, you wet your lips, tongue reaching out involuntary. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly a shout came through the door. “What is going ON? Y/N you know better,” came rushing out of the mouth of the director. Snapping at you, she pointed over to a rack filled with satin lingerie. 

“Get the white one on now. Take this shit off,” she said, reaching for the blue shirt you’d done up. Huffing, you shrugged it off, before walking over to the clothes for you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see her fussing over Colson’s fit, playing around with the buttons on his jacket. 

Shrugging off your sweatpants, you pulled on the white outfit. It fell to the bottom of your legs, slits done meticulously to show off your legs. The lace on it was beautiful, and you hesitated before stepping back around, suddenly getting a little bundle of nerves in your belly. 

“Perfect! Come here,” she muttered, reaching for something on the table. Picking up a set of angel wings, she turned you around, snapping them over your back. 

You saw Kells staring at you from his spot by the door, and the heat in his eyes was unmistakable. The bundle turned into a flutter and you swallowed, trying to calm yourself down. This was just going to be another shoot, nothing special. 

-

Oh how wrong you were. Right off the bat, the director asked you both to go across the street, in the mansion they had booked for the day. This was your first time exploring and you had quietly marveled in the grandeur of it all. There was a high wall, taller than you were, but coming to right around Colson’s chin. The director lifted you up, and then you were posing on top of the wall, bare legs soaking in the sun as Colson played with your hand, standing right below you.

For the first few shots, you looked out in the distance, trying not to catch his eyes. It had gotten intimidating to make eye contact, especially now that you were in the headspace of Juliet. After a couple of takes, you got pulled aside, softly told to “Act like you’re in love, dammit,” and then popped back up on the wall. 

Taking a breath, you steadied yourself as Colson put your palm in his, and made eye contact, softly smiling as he looked up at you. The pose felt like forever, eyes boring into each other, and then the director shouted, “Amazing! Ok next,” and you were being pulled down into the next area. 

-

A few solo photos later, they put you back on the wall. Colson stood in between your bare legs, leaning into you. His arms braced on either side of your hips. The close proximity made you nervous, and you let out a soft laugh as his hair brushed against your cheek.

“Shhh,” he whispered, barely moving his mouth. 

“You shhh,” you whispered back, leaning your shoulder against his.

 Instead of responding, he simply reached his hand over, putting it slightly over yours. Tapping his thumb against the back of your hand, he slowly moved it into a stroke and you pulled your legs together instinctively, forgetting he was in between them. 

You saw the smirk build in his face and you let out a breath, trying to not let him get to you. 

“What’s wrong,” he murmured, still moving his thumb agonizingly slow on your hand. Nudging him with your thigh, you tried to shut him up as the camera flashed. 

“Done. Okay, both of you. Take a break, go change. We need to get a few more shots in before the sun goes down,” the photographer shot out and you pushed Kells back a little, throwing him a grin before sauntering back to the studio. 

-

Switching into the green lingerie suit, you looked at yourself in the mirror. This one was a smaller one-piece and you glanced at your booty, making sure it looked good for the pictures. Pulling the suit up a little, you admired the way the lace cupped your boobs, perfectly covering your nipples. Picking up a towel from nearby, you wrapped it around before crossing back over to the mansion. 

Kells was standing there in the blue shirt from earlier, and you let out a laugh, seeing the perfect way it hung off of him. You reached up, adjusting his collar, smiling as you saw him gulp. 

“I think you look better in this,” you murmured, fingers delicately running right over his neck. 

Stepping back before he could respond, you took off your towel, putting it on the desk nearby. Turning back around, you saw his face, eyes eagerly running up and down your exposed body. 

“I think you’d look better in nothing,” he mumbled, hand rubbing at his chin. You felt yourself get warmer at his comment, and you threw a wink at him, before walking over to the director who was setting up a beautiful red car. 

“Game plan?” you asked, clapping your hands together. 

-

Ten minutes later, you were balancing on Kells’ thigh as he sat on the car’s hood. One leg hitched over him, the other extended as you stood straight. You pressed your torso against his, arching into him, throwing your head back so you could bare your neck. 

Placing both hands on his chest, you laughed as the director yelled at Colson, placing him into position. He wrapped a hand around your back and you felt yourself naturally lean into the touch. His other hand came to rest on your bare thigh, pressing in slightly, fingers barely there. He looked straight at you, and you feel your heartbeat pulse as the camera started clicking. 

“Y/N! Wrap your arms around his neck. Yes, now look right over at the camera,” came the shouts from the director. Colson pulled you closer, bringing the arm around your waist closer. He turned to face the camera too and you watched the director falter for a second before rushing over to take the picture. 

“Holy fuck! That was incredible,” she yelled from behind the screen, and you giggled, letting your head fall on his shoulder. 

-

“Y/n, you’re free to go for tonight,” the executive director said, pointing around the rest of the crew to pick up different set pieces. You nodded, grabbing your duffel bag as you turned to face her real quick, “Uh, what about Kells?” 

He was across the room, getting more eyeshadow dusted onto his cut, typing away on his phone. The director looked over at him, before looking at you, eager to get away with him. 

Rolling her eyes, she went, “Listen, I need him for a few more shots tonight, but he’ll be done in half an hour if you wanna hang around. I know Gina’s been dying to catch up with you.”

Grinning, you dropped your bag on the seat. Pulling your hair up into a ponytail, you walked past Colson to the hair station. Gina had been the first friend you’d made modeling and she was incredible at her job, a creative visionary when it came to not only styling hair, but keeping it protected when crazy things were happening too. 

Leaving the room, you heard Colson go, “Hey, wait where’s Y/N going?” and you smiled, knowing that you weren’t the only one feeling the heat building between the two of you. As you got out of earshot, you could still hear the director yelling, “Don’t get your panties in a twist!” and you almost walked smack into Gina herself, snickering at his panic. 

-

Half an hour later, you were clinging onto Gina’s words as she told you the latest horror story of a terrible famous client. She had broke out a bottle of rosé, sipping on bubbles while you picked at the platter of fruits you had stolen from the front desk. There was a knock on the door, and you hopped off of the counter, pulling it open. Kells stood there, back in his regular clothes, Converse knocking against each other as he stumbled a little. 

“Hey,” he mumbled. 

You lifted your cup up, taking another sip, raising your eyebrows, urging him to continue by nodding slightly. 

“So, I’m kinda stuck in the area for the next two days for this terrible photoshoot I’m doing with this horrible girl -” he started, and you interrupted him, choking on the rosé as it hit the back of your throat, laughing. 

“Sorry, uh, you were talking about this awful girl?” you continued, getting most of it out of your system. 

“Right, yeah. Would you wanna get dinner with me?” he finished, making that eye contact again, creating a warm fuzz in your tummy. 

“Yeah, yes. Yeah,” you blurted out, rosé and nerves rumbling within you. 

“You said that already,” he grinned as you went over to pick up your bag. 

“Shut up,” you grinned back, trying to hide your smile. 

“Bye Gins, I’ll catch you tomorrow,” you said, leaning in for a hug. Kissing your cheek, she whispered in your ear, “Get some please. I need to know, for science,” and you let out a belly-laugh before following Colson out the door as he waved goodbye. 

It was all in the name of science right? No harm, no foul.

[101flavoursofweird]

For the ten line drabbles, would you do 20 for any combination of Kat, Ernest, and Sherl (either two of them or all three of them together)? Thank you!

[[Apologies, this ended up being more than ten lines and didn’t even include the quote, though it definitely inspired it! Thank you for giving me the chance to finally write a fic about my Sherl theory!]]

20. “If you feel safer with me being there, you know I will always be there.”

“Aurora, our messenger, do you wish for this human to be reborn as a beast?”

“Yes, please. He has brought a great deal of suffering upon the world and to the fabric of time. And he hurt the professor… Also, can you take away his memories, like you did for me?”

“We were able to accomplish that as you were an Azran golem—“

“I was a sentient being with a beating heart. Surely you can do this same for this man?”

“…Very well. We will grant your wish.”

—

Kat had gone out for dinner with her inspector brother and her chef sister, leaving Ernest and Sherl to ‘manage’ the agency by themselves. (Or rather, stall any clients until Kat got back.)

Sherl thought this would be the perfect time for a dognap, but then Pipstripes decided to switch on the television while he was dusting.

Uuugh, that stupid black box! Why did Kat have to bring it in here, and place it on the drawers right above Sherl’s bed? Why couldn’t she find another way entertain herself when it was raining cats and dogs outside?

Sherl covered his ears as the droning voice of a news reader came on.

“—on this day, seven years ago, that the St. Herald Hotel collapsed during one of the worst storms in British history—“

“Who cares what happened seven years ago?” Sherl groaned. “That’s... forty years ago for a dog...”

“Shush, Sherl,” Ernest said, his gaze glued to the television.

“—While the establishment had received five star ratings in the past, it was undergoing maintenance work at the time, making some rooms unstable—“

“That thing will rot your brain,” Sherl warned. You would never catch Sherl gawking at a screen.

He couldn’t see in full colour anyway...

For him, it was mainly grey with some shades of blue and yellow. Pinstripes stood out like a sore thumb with his waistcoat and his trousers. Sherl could distinguish Kat’s yellow coat and her hat, but her dress just looked... dull. (Kat had nearly thrown a fit when Sherl told her this.)

As far as Sherl could tell, the news reader was a lady with long blonde hair, a grey suit and a solemn expression.

“All of the hotel staff and guests were able to escape, expect for one—“

“Poor sod,” Sherl snorted.

“—Former Prime Minister, Bill Hawks.”

Sherl’s ears perked up. “Who?”

“Shhhhh!”

“Did she say Prime Minister?” Sherl persisted. He stumbled out of his bed to get a closer look at the T.V.— at the photo of the man the news people had put up.

He was probably in his late fifties or early sixties, judging by his balding head, deep frown lines, droopy eyes and glasses... Sherl squinted, wondering if dogs could get glasses.

“Yes— from about twenty years ago,” Pinstripes informed him, frowning slightly. “If you listen, they’re going to talk about his life soon...”

Talk about him they did. Bill Hawks: Born in London, squeaked his way in to university, became a scientist at the Institute of Poly-something or other... until there was an explosion at the lab he worked in. An explosion, it turned out, that Hawks had caused with an experiment gone awry.

Sherl hummed. “Why does that sound so familiar?”

“The... explosion?” Pinstripes fiddled with the end of his feather duster. “It sounds like something out of a sci-fi film, doesn’t it?” He closed his eyes for a moment. “But it really did happen, over thirty years ago... and there were terrible repercussions ten years after. You might have heard Miss Layton discussing it...”

Sherl shook his head. He would have remembered if Kat had mentioned something like that. His short term memories were clear as crystal. It was his long term memories that were murky— at least, those prior to joining the Layton Detective Agency.

All he could remember from his past life was a tower falling down, and lightning flashing across the sky... but with each passing day, the details felt less precise and less important. Kat seemed to have given up on solving his case of amnesia altogether!

“Oh...” Pinstripes glanced out the window and back at Sherl. “Do you— surely you know about the Mobile Fortress attack? From a man called Clive Dove?”

For some reason, that name made Sherl shudder. Still, he answered, “No...”

“He tried to destroy London? There were crushed buildings and a gaping tear left in the ground?” Pinstripes said, his eyes wide with disbelief. “It took them years to repair—“

“I might seem older than you kids,” Sherl interrupted, “but I can’t have been alive for more than six or seven years.” He was a ‘mature dog’ (according to the vet), but that couldn’t compare to a human lifespan. Kat’s grandmother, Rosa, was in her seventies!

Pinstripes waved his hand. “Right, sorry... Anyway, Clive Dove was put in prison— thanks to Miss Layton’s father— and he remains there to this day.”

“Good,” Sherl huffed. “Sounds like this Dove was barking!”

“That’s really not funny...”

“What made him go round the bend?”

Ernest winced. “He, um... he wanted to get revenge... because his parents died in that lab explosion.”

Sherl stuck out his teeth. “But if Bill Hawks was behind the explosion... then why didn’t Dove just go after him? Why take it out on everyone—?”

“I don’t know!” Ernest dropped the feather duster. He sighed heavily and crouched to pick it up. Turning his back on Sherl, he resumed his dusting around the television.

The news reader was exposing more about Bill Hawks; by sweeping his crimes under the rug and making shady deals, Hawks had climbed the political ladder to the very top.

Then he was kidnapped by one of his former scientist colleagues and taken to an underground fake ‘Future London’...

“So that’s what she meant...” Sherl breathed. When he’d first arrived at the agency, Kat had asked if he had a ‘letter from the future’. Had her father been sent such a letter?

Sherl’s heart pounded at the next part of the news report. Clive Dove had imprisoned Bill Hawks in the Mobile Fortress, using Bill’s heartbeat to power the machine... That was intense!

Fortunately for Hawks, Professor Layton had saved him and shut down the fortress.

After they all escaped, Hawks had ensured Dove was arrested, put on trial immediately, and locked up for life.

During Dove’s trial, however, Hawks’ disreputable past had been brought to light. Hawks wasn’t put behind bars, but he had to pay a lot of compensation money for the victims of the institute explosion and for the Mobile Fortress attack.

A clip from an interview was shown— a man from Barkleys Bank described Hawks’ loss of financial backers as his approval ratings dropped. (Poor Barkleys, having to represent Bill Hawks...)

Disgraced, Bill had resigned from his post as prime minister and disappeared from the public eye. His wife had divorced him and he had started mooching off his parents’ inheritance.

“Good-for-nothing fat-cat...” Sherl grumbled. You wouldn’t catch his pups leeching off their families like that. When Kat’s father went missing, she had set up a detective agency. When Ernest’s mother died, he had worked his way up to university— and taken an unpaid job on top of that!

Sherl hoped there were assassination attempts made on Hawks’ life after everything he had done.

But no... It seemed that the world had forgotten about Bill Hawks as soon as he left office.

By all accounts, his death at the St. Herald Hotel had been deemed an accident. He had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, asleep when the roof above him collapsed.

“...Did he wake up in unbearable pain or did he die peacefully in his sleep?” the news reader lady pondered.

“Oh, come on, woman!” At this point, Sherl was standing on his hind legs with his paws pressed up against the television screen. “I need to know! That skid mark deserved to suffer—!”

“We may never know for certain,” the news reader went on, smiling impassively. “But some might say that justice was served on that day... Thank you for listening! And now, over to Puzzlette for the pollen report...”

“Waste of time...” Sherl flounced away from the television and looked around. He spotted the T.V. remote on the settee. “Turn it off, will you, Pinstripes?”

With a huff, Pinstripes turned off the television. He tossed the remote back on to the settee.

Sherl flicked his tail. “What’s got you so hot under the collar?”

“N-nothing...” Pinstripes crossed his arms as if he was trying to contain something in his chest. Whatever it was— anger, grief or uneasiness— Sherl reckoned Pinstripes wouldn’t be able to hide it for long. (He had broken down the minute Kat accused him of being Lord Adamas.)

“You might as well tell me,” Sherl prompted. “Kat’s out, and it’s not like anyone else can hear...”

Sherl prided himself on being a good secret-keeper. He hadn’t told Kat about Pinstripes’ crush, besides a few snide remarks. He hadn’t turned that street dog, Yapper, over to the pound. And he hadn’t ratted out that mouse who would occasionally nip in to steal Kat’s food...

Pinstripes whispered, “You... you can’t tell Miss Layton. She and her family would hate me...”

“Is it worse than what you did at Richmond Court?” Sherl asked. He made a furtive glance at the door.

“N-no!” Ernest exclaimed, his voice rising a pitch. “It doesn’t even involve me directly... but it does involve... one of my family members.”

Sometimes, Sherl was glad that he couldn’t remember his relatives. He didn’t have to deal with any of that family drama— unless Kat and Ernests’ issues counted as drama.

“Just spit it out,” Sherl growled.

“I... I’m related to Bill Hawks,” Ernest burst out. “Distantly!”

After all the cases Sherl had solved with Kat, that wasn’t too surprising to hear. Sherl cocked his head to the side. “How ‘distant’ are we talking?” He had heard that a lot of Europe’s royal families were related. Did it work the same way with lords and politicians?

“Quite distant... He was my grandfather’s second cousin!” With the cat finally out of the bag, Ernest sighed shakily. He sank on to the settee and tucked his knees under his chin, pulling himself into a tight ball. He looked more like a child than a lanky young man, but then again, he was only nineteen. That was still young by human standards.

“Pinstripes...” Sherl murmured when he heard sniffling. Sherl padded over to the settee and jumped up beside him.

“P-please don’t tell Miss Layton,” Ernest repeated with a whimper. “I nearly— she let me stay... even after what I did. I don’t want to— to hurt her again...”

Knowing Kat, she had probably already discovered the connection between Ernest and Bill Hawks.

It was possible that she had figured out Sherl’s identity as well, but she was keeping quiet. Honestly... Sherl didn’t really mind at that moment.

What would he do if he knew about his past? Track down his family? Would they even be able to understand him? And what if he had left his loved ones on bad terms? He would struggle to make amends with them, and they might be even more upset.

It wasn’t like he could return to his old job, either... unless it involved police work, assisting people with disabilities, or herding sheep. There was always performing— who didn’t love a good dog act?  

But even then, it would be lonely if he couldn’t communicate with anyone.

At least if he stayed here, at the Layton Detective Agency, he could make a difference. He would do his best to help their clients... as well as Ernest and Kat.

Sherl curled up next to Ernest on the settee. After a while, Ernest’s sniffs stopped and he started stroking Sherl’s head.

Maybe one day they would find a way to transform animals into humans... but until then, Sherl didn’t mind being a detective’s dog. There were fates far worse than this.