#what can we deduce from this watson?

[ezzakennebba]

regular high school students with normal paternal relationships ⚡️

[freakoont]

❝𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐩𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬❞

︵‿︵‿୨🍪୧‿︵‿︵

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐨 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐩𝐨 𝐄𝐝𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 【ＳＦＷ　ａｎｄ　ＮＳＦＷ ｉｎｃｌｕｄｅｄ】

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

GENDER NETURAL BUT AFAB READER sorry :')

REQUESTS ARE OPEN ! check the bottom of this post for information <3

︵‿︵‿୨🍪୧‿︵‿︵

【ＳＦＷ】

When you first start to begin noticing signs of having a crush on him, Ranpo immediately picks up on it.

Does he actually say or do anything about it? No . . . Not for a long while.

He's not embarrassed or nervous about it, actually he uses your little crush as a advantage to tease and mess with your cute little brain !

"hey, (Y/N) can you get me some pockys? I'm about to die from hunger, y'know!"

"..I'm busy, Ranpo."

"oh, fine."

...

"oh yeah, (Y/N) I seem to recall you were staring a lot at me earlier, which is kind of odd for a friend-"

"I'll get those snacks now"

Ranpo's never had a crush or significant other, so there are some things he doesn't know what to do. but he mostly treats your relationship the same way he treated you back when you were just friends

At first, he was a little nervous about saying things like 'I love you' because he thought it sounded cringe, but after a short while he needs to hear you say it 30 times a hour with lots of kisses💋

Ranpo can be a little shit at times, but he makes up for it for his good memory and always being able to understand you better than you know yourself.

Example: Ranpo will always remember little things about you! He noticed you staring at a T-shirt in the mall once and suddenly you've got it gifted to you, "from the worlds greatest detective; to my favorite assistant"

A lot of times when you're working in ADA, Ranpo will just hop onto your lap and keep still and silent as he eat snacks.

He loves being in your presence, just being around you is enough.

He's not crazy on PDA, usually holding your hand and dragging you along with him. He'll occasionally tease and embarrass you in public though, most of the time it isn't intentional

"(Y/NNNNN) :( can we please go to that bakeshop !"

"we were just at one. Besides, you still have that cake to finish at home."

"..."

"WHAT THE- GET OFF MY BACK YOU CRAZY MAN-"

"LETS GO TO THE BAKESHOP THEN-"

Ranpo is a BIG cuddle bug! He loves being little spoon especially. Just laying on top of your chest or besides you as you caress his hair and kiss his forehead

He'll melt from your touch

He's a baby

Ranpo doesn't usually get jealous. It's a rare thing actually, he's a chill guy and just uses his deduction to know you love him 110%

He's probably gotten used to Dazai flirting with you, before you two got together, that he's unbothered by other people

TXT: "Ranpo ! Some guy is flirting with me !"

TXT: "👍"

TXT: "do you not care that someone is trying to get with me?"

TXT: "woah there. FIRST OF ALL☝️ I've already deducted that you wouldn't do anything to hurt me. You care to much. SECOND OF ALL☝️ I've also deduced that he's drunk"

TXT: "I'll go buy you some ice cream now..(⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)"

TXT: "👍"

...

TXT: "ily"

TXT: "I love you too(⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡"

I feel like Ranpo isn't good with feelings and his words. When he notices that you're angry or upset, he'll kind of just be lost on what to do to cheer you up

He'll make some unhelpful comments here and there, trying to cheer you up and joke around... But then it might piss you off a little more

HE'S TRYING(⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)

He's bad at reading emotions, and when he does understand he'll share his snacks and keep quiet...

His love language is: words of affirmation and physical touch

He's not one to use pet names, just usually call you by his own nickname for you and that's it. Occasionally he'll call you his 'favorite assistant' or his 'watson'

Ranpo gets a boost in his confidence whenever you praise him. You and Fukuzawa are definitely the most important people in his lives, meaning your words mean SO MUCH to him

If you're the type to like cooking and cleaning, you've won him over. He hates chores and loves just sitting around and eating snacks

If you feed him as he sits or lays on your lap he'll literally die a happy man

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

【ＮＳＦＷ】

Ranpo is a switch, but definitely leans towards a bottom more

He'll be a very loud person in bed when you're on top of him.

If you tease him and poke at his sensitive parts, Ranpo will get flustered. You will catch him blushing and trying to keep quiet, just poke at him some more

Of course, don't be mean to him though. He only likes it when you praise him for doing good, because he's very inexperienced.

Ranpo is good at giving oral, he knows how to read you and where you like to be touched the most

Whenever Ranpo has a rough day, he'll either want you to ride him to make him feel better or he'd want to eat you out

"Mmmm... You look so good riding me like that,"

"just like that, Aah~"

"Love, I'm gonna- A-Ah"

He's noisy, but you can shut him upಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ

Ranpo doesn't have that strong of a sexual desire. Sex isn't the most important thing to him. it's you🫵

If you ask him enough, praise him all day, and have a little teasing at eachother, maybe your lucky enough to walk home with him pulling you into the bed(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

His favorite positions are cowgirl/reverse cowgirl, anything with you taking control

He's very lazy and will let you do most of the work

Ranpo actually doesn't have any kinks, and I know a lot of you will be like "no he'd have a praise kink☝️" but I'm sorry to say that, Ranpo would 100% find the idea of kinks disgusting

LIKE I KNOW. I can see him having a praise kink too but it just fits so well for him to find 'kinks' disgusting

He doesn't like using toys either. Well, specifically for himself

If he feels like teasing you and edging you on, expect him to be using a vibrator on you and moving it around to get you moaning, but that's it really

If you're a easily-embarrassed or awkward and shy person, he'll definitely tease and mess with you when he's taking the lead

He's definitely had you doing things with him in the office and after you're finished you'll be like, "did... Did that really just happen?🧍‍♀️"

"Ranpo, the others are gonna be back any moment, please let's just finish at home.."

"Mmm, not a chance... Now, if you're so worried about it, you better start moving faster for me, sweet one.." he spoke, his hand on your ass as he straddled you on his lap as he sucked on a lollipop, his eyes were on yours. His other hand moved up your back and caressed your body.

How did you ever get dragged into this with him? Oh wait. It's Ranpo.

Ranpo loves face sitting

He'll eat you out like a unspoken religion, digging his teeth into your inner thighs just to hear your sweet noises as he knows he's doing good

He also loves it when you leave lipstick kisses all over him

YOU'LL LITERALLY MAKE HIM ALL NERVOUS AND BLUSHING. He'll be at a loss for words and start to ignore all eye contact

༻༺━━━━⁎∗.*.∗⁎━━━━༻༺

REQUESTS - I am accepting any requests for any character for the following fandoms:

Bungo Stray Dogs, Genshin Impact, Danganronpa, Ninjago, Southpark, Obey Me, 7 Deadly Sins, Tokyo Revengers, Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, Death Note, Walking Dead, Demon Slayer, Assassination Classroom, Hunter X Hunter, Komi Can't Communicate, Diabolik Lovers and Doki Doki Literature Club

I will write any of the following: smut (all characters WILL be aged up), fluff, crack/joke, specific plot, angst, HC's, BL, GL

Do not expect me to write any of the following: intense gore scene, sexual themes that are disturbing to most people and anything that will get me banned for a specific and obvious reason.

I accept requests for any character from any of the fandoms I have named :)

[queerholmcs]

i know, i know, i missed a lot of good options the first time around, so without further ado:

longer quotes completed in full below:

"my brother has the brain of a scientist or a philosopher, yet he elects to be a detective. what might we deduce about his heart?"

"as my colleague is fond of remarking, this country sometimes needs a blunt instrument. equally, it sometimes needs a dagger. a scalpel, wielded with precision and without remorse. there will always come a time when we need sherlock holmes."

*ok this one is technically sherlock about mycroft, but mycroft is literally dropping a broken heart while playing operation, so it counts.

the one about clown outfits is from tfp. obviously.

"say thank you to doctor watson. he talked me out of lady bracknell—this could have been very different." (note to self, reread the importance of being earnest another dozen times to imagine what the lady bracknell scheme might have been. as a treat.)

yes i did give in to temptation and allow myself twelve options here. yes that was so i could add two more from tfp. no i'm not apologising.

if you don't see your favourite here it might have been on part one. sorry.

[specialagentlokitty]

John x Teen!reader - my dad

I have a request, for a John Watson fic. Could you do one where teen Reader is John's long lost daughter and Sherlock is the one to deduce it when she does something only John would do (maybe an eye roll or a specific headshake) and he tries to secretly get the two to spend time together like father and daughter? - Anon💜

Sitting in the police car, you laid over the back seats as you waited for your guardian to come back and he did after a few moments.

He opened the back door and looked at you.

“Sorry kiddo, Sherlock’s agreed to watch you for a few hours.”

“Can he take me on cases?”

“No.”

“Can I take him on cases?”

“What cases do you have?”

You shrugged a little and smiled at Lestrade as you jumped out of the car, stuffing your hands into your pockets as you padded after him to the flat.

He lead you in and you waved at Sherlock.

“I heard you have a roommate.”

“I heard you got removed from boarding school.”

You shrugged a little and walked over to the sofa, dropping yourself on it with a heavy thud and looked to Lestrade.

“Can we have pizza Greg?”

“If you want pizza order pizza, I’ll send you the money.”

“Thanks!” You beamed.

He nodded and ruffled your hair before he told Sherlock not to let you leave his sight and he left and Sherlock looked over at you.

“So, why did you get kicked out?”

“I ran away.”

“More than once.” He said.

“Ten times actually, they decided I wasn’t a so called right fit. It’s why Greg seems mad, cause he was the one who had to keep picking me up.”

“Well, he is your legal guardian so it does make sense.”

You shrugged a little and turned your head to look at Sherlock.

“Where’s the fool who decided to live with you?”

“John!” Sherlock yelled.

There was a small thud, and someone came rushing down the hallway and stopped in the entrance of the living room.

“John, (Y/N), (Y/N) John. Now stop asking annoying questions.”

You rolled your eyes and john did the same thing, and Sherlock glanced back at the pair of you.

He watched carefully as you got up and walked over to john and held your hand out to him, formally introducing yourself and John did the same thing.

The longer Sherlock looked, the more he realised you two seemed alike.

He never noticed it since the pair of you had never been in the same room before, but now, standing side by side he could see it.

Mainly in the little things you did.

The way you rolled your eyes, the way you shook hands the exact same, the way you crossed your arms while you were talking.

Sherlock carefully studied both you and John.

“(Y/N).”

You turned your head to Sherlock.

“Sherlock?”

Sherlock looked at you.

“Order your pizza I’m going out, John watch her, she’s m a swift one and will run.”

Sherlock needed answers and there was only one way he was going to get them, but in order to get them he had to go to the hospital.

You were now his new case.

He was never wrong, never.

You were related to John somehow, he knew that one, but he needed to know exactly how you were related to John.

You and John looked to each other in confusion and you shrugged.

“Do you have a history of running away?” John asked.

“From school yeah, and sometimes Sherlock. But if it makes you feel better Greg can always find me.”

“Lestrade?”

You nodded your head and held your phone out to John and he walked over to take it and sit next to you.

“Yeah, he’s my legal guardian, he has been for the past few years.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

You shrugged a little bit.

“It’s okay, I’m pretty happy with it, he’s basically my uncle, I’ve known him my whole life. It’s how I met Sherlock actually, he’s like a weird big brother I can’t get rid of.”

John laughed, nodding his head.

“Once you meet him he just sticks to your side like glue.”

You ordered your food and you and John carried on talking happily while you ate and you showed him a few games on your phone that you liked.

It took Sherlock longer than he thought it would have to be able to get into your file, but as he scrolled through it he couldn’t find anything that would help him.

“What’re you looking for?” Molly asked.

“Parents names.”

Sherlock looked at the bottom, but it only held your mums name, absolutely no mention of who your father was.

“There isn’t one listed, Lestrade tried that as well.”

Sherlock frowned and nodded his head, reluctantly there was only one person he could ask now. The only person who could access to your information.

He didn’t want to, but it was driving him crazy and he needed to know so he paced back and forth as he waited for a reply from his older brother.

Mycroft: I’m only sending you this so then you owe me a favour when the time comes. (Y/N)s biological father was listed as John Watson, except (Y/N)s mother walked away without telling him. He has no clue.

Sherlock nodded to his, stuffing his phone in his pocket he started to run scenarios through his head on what to do next.

He could tell you both, but that seemed boring to him.

He could tell Lestrade, but that always seemed boring to him.

No, he was going to wait, just keep making you two spend time together.

He was partially doing it to cure himself from his eternal boredom, but at the same time he was doing it for you and John.

He didn’t know how the pair of you would react, and he didn’t want to have to deal with the aftermath if it went wrong.

Sherlock spent days researching into what parents did with the children, how the bonded and how they spent time together.

He read, watched videos, asked online, gathering as much information as he possible could before he settled on starting simple.

He sent you two to get something to eat since he didn’t want any food, he sent you two to the movies, concerts, anything for a day out to spend time together.

You and John got along really well, but you were all starting to get suspicious of him, and when Lestrade watched Sherlock send you and John somewhere he turned around.

“Right, what the bloody hell are you playing at now?” He asked.

“Johns her father.”

Lestrade stopped in his tracks.

“What?”

Sherlock turned his laptop and showed a formal document, a formal birth certificate which listened both mother and father.

“Her mother burned the original copy, Mycroft had to do some digging just to find this. (Y/N)s mother didn’t want anyone to know who the father was so she could claim child support of different men in different cities.”

“Is that why for the past three months you have been doing anything to get the two to spend time with each other?”

Sherlock nodded his head.

“John has a right to know, and so does (Y/N) but it would be easier to tell them if they already get along.”

“Well has it worked?”

“No they’re more like friends, or brother and sister.”

Lestrade laughed a little and clasped a hand on sherlocks shoulder.

“Just tell them.”

Sherlock nodded, it was about time he told the pair of you.

You and John were walking around, talking about what he did while he was a soldier and you stopped by the gates of the cemetery.

“Can you give me a minute?”

“Of course, take as long as you need, do you want me to come with you?”

You looked through the gates for a minutes and nodded your head.

You had never been here alone, Lestrade or Sherlock always came with you, so you didn’t want to go in by yourself.

You walked along the path, and John carefully watched you as you approached a headstone.

“Hey mum.” You said softly.

You went through the bag you had and pulled out a single rose you had gotten from the shop and rested it up against it.

John stood a few feet away, his back turned to you to give you your privacy and just waited until you were ready to go.

When you were you walked over to him and smiled softly.

“Thank you…”

“You don’t have to thank me, are you okay?”

You nodded your head and started to walk, and John followed behind you.

“Can I ask.. how Uhm.. how your mum passed?”

“Car accident, it’s how I first met Greg he was the one to handle the case. They couldn’t find out who my dad was, so he took me instead.”

John nodded his head.

“Do you have any idea who your dad could be? Sherlock could help you find him.”

You flicked your eyes up to John and smiled.

“I think I know who my dad is yeah, and I know Sherlock knows. But anyways I’ve got to go, I told Greg I’d finish my homework.”

You hugged John and jogged down the street and John went back to the flat only to find Sherlock waiting for him.

“Sherlock?”

Sherlock didn’t say a word, he just tuned the laptop to face him and confused, john walked over.

He stared at the screen and slowly picked it up, walking over to sit in his chair as he just stared.

“Sherlock I.. I don’t understand…”

“You’re (Y/N)s father John. Her real father.”

John excused himself, saying he needed time to think about what he just found out and as the next morning rolled around he texted Lestrade asking to come over.

He agreed and John was soon in front of your house with Lestrade waited outside.

“Sherlock finally told you didn’t he?”

John nodded.

“Is she in?”

“She’s in the living room waiting. She knows too.”

John nervously walked in and walked over to the living room, standing in front of you while you looked up at him.

“You knew I was your dad?”

You nodded softly.

“I realised after a few weeks… but I.. I was scared you wouldn’t want me…”

John rushed over and pulled you into a hug.

“Of course I want you, you’re my daughter (Y/N), I’m so sorry I missed so much.”

You hugged him back and smiled to yourself.

“Does this mean.. maybe we can go to parent kid events… and do things parents and their kids do…?”

“Yeah, yes, of course.”

John pulled away and looked at you.

“What about Lestrade?”

“Well… he’ll always be my dad, you know? He’s cared for me since I was like nine, but.. but I want to have by biological dad too…”

John smiled and hugged you tightly again.

“That’s fine by me.”

[maryellencarter]

SO okay there are well over a dozen different chronologies of Sherlock Holmes out there, in paper books and all that.

But, because Sir Arthur Conan Doyle gave negative fucks about anything to do with Sherlock Holmes continuity, if you are going to make a Definitive Chronology you have to make a bunch of decisions about things like "There are not only eight weeks between April 27 and October 9" and "This one is dated to the timeframe when Holmes was *dead*" and "This one has no indication of the date or year at all".

This gets even more complicated by the fact that many of the attempts at a definitive chronology are done by people who were playing "The Great Game", that is, pretending all their scholarship is based on the assumption that Watson is a real person and everything detailed in the stories really happened, so you can only have Watsonian explanations for all the conflicts instead of the simple and sweeping "Doyle did not give one single shit".

(There are also chronologies based on theses varying from "Watson is a time traveler" to "All the continuity errors are covering up H/W shippiness: the worse the error, the gayer the secret". It's a fun romp if you don't take it too seriously.)

What I've done in this Gdoc, which I hope people will feel free to use and base their own chronologies on, is I've copied out every date that is given in the Complete Sherlock Holmes and put them in order, along with the dates we can deduce by "three weeks earlier", "four years later", and so forth. When this causes conflicts, I have noted the sources and details, so that hopefully people can make their own decisions.

(1169 pages of hardcopy reviewed in three days. I may not have the ADHD, but I can definitely get head-down on a project.)

Have fun!

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: February 2/24

It's Finally the First Friday in February, and that means it's Five Fics Friday! I hope you enjoy the fics I've chosen for y'all this week! And please give the boosted fic some love! <3 Enjoy!

SIGNAL BOOSTING

Talk down your DNA by avalanching effect (T, 5,384 w., 1 Ch. || Supernatural Elements AU || Witches, Cannibalism, POV John, Spooky, Death, Suicide Attempt) – When him and Harry are 11, their parents take them to an abandoned sawmill for their birthday, and leave them to their own devices. After they learn how to turn it on, Harry pushes him in. Part 1 of Not dead, not alive, but a secret third thing

RECENT MFLs

The Murder of Sir Emory J. Amat by ChrisCalledMeSweetie (T, 14,364+ w., 5/27 Ch. || WiP || Murder of Roger Ackroyd Fusion / 1925 AU || Surprise Ending, Case Fic, POV First Person John) – A Sherlock Holmes mystery, as recounted by Dr. John H. Watson. Can you follow the clues to deduce whodunnit?

Hand In Hand by LipstickDaddy(G, 2,847+ w., 3/? Ch. || WiP || Nail Salon AU || Fluff, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending) – John Watson is home from Afghanistan, and he hasn’t felt entirely himself, entirely human, for weeks. He bumps into Stamford, and John makes an offhand comment about his friend’s “soft academic’s hands.” Stamford slips him the address of a nail shop near Bart’s, and John wonders if something as simple as a manicure might actually help him. Turns out, it’s the best impulse decision he’d ever make.

Maybe We Could Change His Mind by thalialunacy (E, 23,049 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Romance, Banter, Schmoop, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Matchmaker Irene, Late-Life Coming Out, Queer Issues, Queer Friendship, Conversion Therapy Discussion, Texting, Anal / Oral Sex, Parental Sherlock) – John now knows that Irene and Sherlock have been corresponding through burner phones and WhatsApp for years. What he doesn't know is that the 'Oo you're shiny and smart!' hormones wore off long ago, and now they're simply gay besties chatting about life, fashion, and, of course, John. But John doesn't know that, so when Irene appears in their life again just as they get called into a very personal case, he feels the sand start to shift beneath his feet and has no idea why. Luckily, Sherlock will always do what it takes to ensure John gets to solid ground, no matter the cost.

RECENTLY BOOKMARKED LOKIUS FIC

we can stay here (& laugh away the fear) by unintentionallyangsty (T, 11,100 w., 1 Ch. || LOKI SERIES || Lokius, Canon Divergence, TVA Shenanigans, Attention Seeking Behaviour, Praise Kink, Touch Starvation, Pet Names, Angsty Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Shyness, Awkward Flirting, Crying, Misunderstandings, Cuddling/Snuggling, Blushing, Depression Mention) – Loki is bad with people and relationships, and tends to assume the worst of every intention and interaction because it's easier in the long-run. Mobius is good with Loki. (Or, two times Loki is spooked off by Mobius' unexpected gentleness and familiarity, and one (1) time the opposite is true).

[221beloved]

Beyond Recognition

Sally had been there when it happened. She'd seen it with her own eyes, and she still couldn't believe it. They were in the flat of the suspect, who wasn't even a suspect before the Freak somehow deduced that he was the only one with motive and means. He had texted Lestrade the outcome of his investigation, oh wonder, and the location to meet. Lestrade had taken Sally and some police officers and now they were standing here. Well, Sally was standing here. The other officers were searching the flat for evidence and Greg was talking with John and Sherlock. Sally stood there and wondered, how Sherlock was able to solve a case in three days, that a whole team from the yard could not.

Suddenly, the front door opened and a man stood in the living room. He was tall, fit, and dressed in trainers and a plain shirt, and he was definitely surprised by what he found in his flat. And he definitely didn't like it. He turned to run but Dr Watson, who was closest to the door, threw himself on the man to prevent his escape. It all happened in mere seconds. First, the former army doctor was pinning the suspect down, the next moment he gave a pained cry and the other man struggled back to his feet. Sally saw the jolt that went through Sherlocks body and she expected him to lunge on the suspect, to put on a chase how he was so fond of doing. But instead he went pale and rushed towards John, threw himself to his knees next to him. “John!” His voice was urgent and worried, nearly anxious, and he grabbed Johns body and helped him to lean against the wall. He knelt before him and grabbed his shoulders. “John, deep breath, take a deep breath, can you look at me?” Than Sally saw it. There was a knife, stabbed into the Doctor's thigh. She gasped. Out of the corners of her eyes she could see some officers running behind the suspect, but she couldn't turn her gaze from the scene in front of her. The slower the Doctor blinked, the more frantic the voice of the detective became. Sally couldn't help but stare, frozen in shock and disbelief. He was out of his bloody mind. Sherlock was out of his mind with worry. With worry for John Watson. Sally couldn't see the man who was standing there only moments before. This wasn't Sherlock Holmes, the cold and rude freak, who didn't care for anyone but himself and barely said a pleasant word to anyone. He was beyond recognition, shaking with worry for his friend, whispering to him not to fall asleep, to stay with him, to be brave. He held the man, held him steady, stroked him reassuringly and told him how good he was doing, that help was on the way, how strong he was. “John, stay awake, please. Look at me, just look at me. What should I ever do without you? Do you realise that I'm nothing without you? You do know that, do you? Silly question, of course you know. Look what you do to me, I'm asking silly questions. We have to talk about this later I presume. John, John!” Sally saw the Doctor's eyes close and his head rolling slightly to the side. “John? No... no, no, no, no, no.... Come on John, don't give up!” He lowered the limp body to the floor, pressed a finger to his pulse and checked his breathing. He seemed a bit relieved, but it wasn't doing too much to calm him down. He turned his head over his shoulder and shouted: “Where is the ambulance? What's taking them so long?!” Greg, who seemed as shocked as Sally, answered in a distant tone: “They're on their way. Won't take long.” Sherlock scoffed and turned to John again. He crouched down beside him and stroked his chest. Sally could see his eyes, blown wide and red as if he would start to cry any second. He was pale, even more than usual, and his hands were trembling. His entire body was actually shaking. He continued to speak to John, directly into his ear, so Sally couldn't hear any of it, but she could hear the gentle tone the rapid flow of words was spoken in. Eventually the medics arrived and surrounded the man lying unconscious on the floor. Another man in a neon jacked entered the room and gestured them all to leave, to ensure an undisturbed initial care of John Watson.

Sally obeyed, slowly leaving the room on slightly unsteady limbs. The last thing Sally could see, was Sherlock, holding John's left hand in both of his, holding him gently, not allowing anything to come between them.

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[random-imagines-blog]

You Will See Me {Mycroft Holmes x Female!Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 4277 Summary: The last time you saw Mycroft, you had your heart broken. What happens when you’re confronted by him again? Notes: Not a happy ending.

It had been a long time since you had seen Holmes come up on your cellphone. Years, actually. You couldn’t remember the last time that one of those boys had any reason to call you. Mycroft, that bloody bastard, was off being the Queen’s hand or something like that, running the government from the inside. And then there was Sherlock, who was always in the papers for something or other, solving a case. You had nothing to do with either of their worlds anymore. And they had nothing to do with yours since the incident. There’s always a goddamn incident, isn’t there?

And yet, for some reason, you had kept both of their numbers in your phone. You haven’t texted, you haven’t called, you’ve skipped past them in your contacts multiple times without giving them thought. You were sure that Sherlock could tell you the reason why, though you couldn’t. He knew everything, especially about you. That’s what best friends did. They knew each other, they took care of one another. Although brother trumps best friend, and a brother is always on a brother’s side.

You thought about not answering Sherlock’s call. It was obviously a mistake of some sort. And if it wasn’t - bad  news, surely. Something like a funeral invitation. No, no, Sherlock would have just sent something like that in the post. He wasn’t the personal sort. Knowing that it was going to bother you until you found out that it was a butt-dial, you answered it, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. “Hello?”

“Ahh, good, so you’re not that busy then,” Sherlock said, curt as ever. No hello, no greeting, just straight to what he is deducing from you. You hated when he did that. And you hated when he was correct because it was your one day off from work this week, and you were intending to spend it doing the ever-blissful nothing at all. The most action that you had taken today was getting out of bed and moving to your sofa, turning on the telly and making yourself a nice cup of tea. “Can you join me this evening?”

“I just want to make sure that you have the right number,” You said, leaning back against your cushions. “This is y/n, not John, or whoever it is that you are ordering around at this moment. Would that be all of Scotland Yard now?”

“Yes, I’d say it’s about all,” Sherlock said, and you could imagine his face getting a little smug at the admission. He did enjoy showing off how superior his intellect was, and using it as some sort of power trip. You put up with it in the past, but you haven’t had to in quite some time. It was more annoying and irksome than you remembered. “But I did call the right person, I don’t make amateur mistakes like that. You didn’t answer my question. Can you join me this evening?” And just as you were attempting to think up some sort of excuse, he added on, “Don’t come up with a lie. You know I’ll know if you do.”

“Fine,” You groaned in a very non-adult way. If you were going to be dragged into whatever it is, you had every right to act petulant. “Yes. I can join you this evening - depending on what we are doing. I’m not a detective, and I really don’t want to see any dead bodies -”

“I know you’re not. You used to get sick at the thought of maggots, you’d never be able to handle seeing them on a corpse,” He said, so matter-of-factly.  “No bodies. Unless you are objecting to the animal kind. I was thinking dinner. Bring a guest, if you like. If you have one.”

The thought of Sherlock with a fishing pole came into your mind, wearing wellies because oh the man was fishing. You weren’t in any sort of mood to tell him that you had no boyfriend, no girlfriend, no partner of any kind. You debated on bringing a friend. Surely, Sherlock was going to be bringing John Watson with him. None of your friends would get along with Sherlock - it would be like mixing oil and vinegar together and expecting them to fuse.

“Dinner at your expense I hope?” You questioned.

“Yes,” He said, sounding annoyed for the first time in the conversation. That made you grin. That lightened up your mood a little. That irritation that you could drag out of him without getting insulted the way that everyone else did.

“Then absolutely. I’ll see you at dinner.”

--

As you attempted to pick out a dress from your closet - Sherlock had given you the address of a rather upscale place, a fancy steakhouse that was way above your budget on an ordinary day - you thought back to the last time that you had seen the Holmes boys. Years ago. Almost two decades. You were wearing a dress that was much like the one that you were picking out now - so you quickly returned it. The color red was gorgeous  but it held so many negative emotions now. And then you decided - sod it. You weren’t going to let the color be ruined just because Mycroft had hurt you when you had worn it once. None of what had happened was Sherlock’s fault, and now that he had reached out, you weren’t going to take it out on him anymore.

You stepped into the dress, then pulled it up around your figure. It fit perfectly. It highlighted what you wanted to highlight and it hid what you wanted it to hide. As you looked in the mirror, you really came to grips with the fact that you weren’t the same young, naive woman that you had been when you last were around the Holmes. Your hair might be the same color that it was then, your eyes were still the same shade, but you had a few gray hairs now, a few small wrinkles. You were a professional with a career, not a student at college. The outer differences were slight but everything inside was completely was different. You had confidence. You had experience. You had -

The trauma of being in love with Mycroft Holmes.

Nope, nope, you weren’t going to go there. You were going to smooth the dress over yourself and put on small touches of make up so that you looked like a million bucks when you walked into that restaurant. Like you belonged there. Like you were completely happy to see an old friend and there was nothing at all mortifying about this. A touch of lipstick, swipes of mascara, putting earrings on, all while trying to keep your cool, all while trying not to think about the past but about what this could mean for the future.

Shoes, check. Purse, check. A black-cab waiting outside of your flat to zoom you through the London streets towards the restaurant, check. Time to go.

No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t get Mycroft out of your head now. Sherlock had just brought it all coming back. All of the memories, all of the feelings that you had been burying for so long. Hurt always bubbles up to the surface. That’s what it does. Once a wound is reopened, the scar tissues takes even longer to make it heal. Even the passing streetlights coming on as dusk started to make the sky darker, turning it into a shade of indigo. How many evenings like this had you spent wasting your youth on a man that had been stringing you along? On one that didn’t love you?  Too many. Way too many.

You grew up with the Holmes brothers. You were the same age as Sherlock, and Mycroft was the cool, smooth older brother. You grew up across the street from them, and unlike a lot of the other children in the neighborhood, you weren’t scared off by their intellect and naturally cold demeanor. You knew from the start that there was a warmth underneath there, you just had to stick around for the ice to melt. You might not have been as smart as them, and sometimes it was difficult to catch up to a lot of what they said but you showed an eagerness to learn. They appreciated that. They started to enjoy teaching you, not just calling you an idiot for it like they did the other kids.

Instead of hopscotch and football, it was crossword puzzles and University Challenge. It was a lot of reading outside with Mycroft while waiting for Sherlock to finish his violin lessons. That’s what you always liked about Mycroft. He didn’t have to sit out here and hang out with you. Most people didn’t do that with their kid brother’s friends. But he seemed genuinely interested in what you were reading, asking questions, telling you more information than what was in the book, always amazing you with how much stayed inside of his head. Even when high school was finished with, and you moved on to a college while Mycroft went to Cambridge, he stayed in touch with you. A little too in touch.

You met up for dinner one night. You had expected him to bring his surly brother along but no, it was just the two of you, at a rather nice Italian restaurant that you had always said you wanted to go to but could never afford. The kind with real breadsticks on the table, not ones out of a box. Where the waiters had uniforms and not just a dirty t-shirt with a washed out logo on it. He treated you to dinner, and a cheeky glass of wine, and listened to - or seemed to - you talk about your annoying dormmate and the lame parties that you had been invited to go to. He eventually got around to asking you if there was anyone interesting that you were seeing on campus. You found it hard to believe that he asked something so personal. He never asked about other friends, let alone boyfriends. The question made you nearly choke on your wine. He was there with a napkin which you gladly used to blot at your mouth.

“Oh um - well, there is one bloke I’ve been talking to a little bit, his name is Kevin, he’s really nice actually. He’s studying-”

“Oh, Kevin,” Mycroft said, the snobby voice starting to take effect. Oh yes, he had that since you two were children as well. There was no getting rid of it, as annoying as it sometimes could be. “Pedestrian name. Has he ever taken you to a place like this?”

You looked around, and had to admit that no. Kevin really hadn’t taken you to a place like this. “He hasn’t taken me to a restaurant, actually,” You admitted. “We went to a party, the one that I was just telling you about. But then he went to his friends and I went to mine...”

“Doesn’t sound much like a gentleman,” Mycroft mused. “If I were to go to a party with you, though I do find the idea of a party to be degrading and below the both of us, I wouldn’t leave your side. Especially not to go and talk to the sort of people that I’m sure that he considers friends.”

You continued sipping on your wine despite the fact that you were feeling rather confused. "Are you telling me that you want me to bring you to one of the college parties? I can’t even picture it,” You laughed. “But you do have a point. His friends are definitely chavs. I try not to speak to them really but-”

“No, I’m most certainly not asking to go to one of those depraved get-togethers,” He scoffed. “What I am trying to say is that you deserve someone who is not going to walk off once there are other options of people to talk to. Why, I’ve always found conversation with you to be quite stimulating. The person that you deem as your equal, as someone worthy of being in a flirtation with, let alone a relationship, should be seeking you out at a party. That is what I’m saying.”

Was it hot in the restaurant or was it just you? “A compliment from Mycroft Holmes. I can hardly believe it,” You chuckled over your wine, holding it in front of your face. “And one involving a party no less. Well thank you, Mycroft. I appreciate it. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Will you?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “I do hope so. We’ve known each other all of these years and still keep in touch. You must know how rare that is for me. I do believe the word is ... captivated.”

That’s all it took. That’s all that it took for you to stop seeing Mycroft as just Sherlock’s brother, and as someone beguiling. The strawberry blonde hair that curled just above one eye, just short enough not to be annoying but also just long enough to get him a step away from the squeaky clean boy image that he had. You spent night after night with him, doing things that you wouldn’t regularly do. Sneaking onto the Cambridge campus for film nights, and then holding onto his arm as he walked you back to the bus stop, laughing about the historical inaccuracies. Walking past protests that were happening against Thatcher and talking about it. You sneakily pinned a ‘Down with Thatcher’ pin onto his jacket. Despite the fact that he would have realized quite early on that it was there, it wasn’t taken off until he switched jackets for the season.

Then there was that night. That dark and fateful night, as a gothic novelist might put it. Where you put your favorite red dress on, with matching rouge upon your cheeks and lipstick upon your mouth, your best pair of heels and stars in your eyes. Stars and hearts both. This was going to be the night when you were going to tell Mycroft Holmes that you had fallen in love with him. This is the night where you were going to go back to the restaurant where he first paid you those compliments that you did keep in your mind, right at the front of it, repeating those words to yourself again and again whenever you had some alone time. Touching yourself to them. Quite stimulating indeed. You were going to confess your love and he would do the same and  you would kiss, shamelessly. You would share a tiramisu dessert, noting that he quite enjoyed sweets.

That’s where the good ended. Right when you walked into the restaurant. Up until then, everything had been sublime. You even had been complimented by a couple of people on the subway. And not just leering perverted comments either. You looked lovely, you looked great, where did you get that dress, someone is going to have a good night. You were feeling it. And you had been trying to chase that confidence ever since.

“Ma’am?” The cab driver asked, bringing you out of your reverie. “We’re here.”

“Thank you,” You said, gathering yourself. You paid him with a hefty tip and then got out, and stood in front of the steakhouse. It was just Sherlock, surely. And John. And a chance to have a good meal on someone else’s dime, never anything wrong with that.

Shoulders back and stand up tall. There were workers right there at the doors who opened them with a greeting and a friendly smile which you returned. You gave your name to the host and he immediately brought you towards a table in the back. You smiled to yourself when you saw Sherlock’s messy head of curls. Some things would never change. The more that people tried to tell him to cut it, the longer he let it grew, until it annoyed only himself. The little rebel. And John, of course, whose blog you’ve perused once or twice - shorter than you imagined but pleasant nonetheless.

What did Sherlock need? He got straight to the point, or rather he did in his own sort of way. There was a lot of information being thrown at you but you remembered enough from your friendship days to sort through it and find what was important. An art piece had been stolen. He didn’t care much about art. But since you had gone to the college of the arts ... he needed your help. He wouldn’t say so upfront, but the way that he spoke made you feel like you were obligated to help him.

“It could be a homophobic attack,” You said, stroking your chin. “The artist was known to have some close male friends. Or it could have something to do with the Nazis. Everything always comes down to them but art theft - they hid so many masterpieces from the world, and some had yet to be discovered. This piece that was stolen is one of the recovered pieces. It could be some deranged supremacist trying to regain the lost collection.”

“Ahh, speaking of supremacist,” Sherlock said, his eyes now gazing above your head. A shadow had come over you, darkening your plate, your glass. You knew who it was by the silhouette.

“Apologies for being late - I didn’t wish to come,” Mycroft’s voice rang, as snobby as ever. It was such a him answer to give. You wish that you had thought of it. You were finding yourself wishing that you hadn’t come either, despite enjoying yourself a few moments prior, remembering why you and Sherlock had been friends in the first place. He walked around without greeting you, or even seeming to notice you - up until he sat across from you at the table. Whoever he might have been expecting to be sitting there, it wasn’t you, and for the first time, you saw surprise gleam across his eyes. And then - was that guilt? You could only hope so.

You were pleased to see that he had aged. That helped you a small bit. In your mind, he stayed in his early twenties, but here he was now, his hair thinning, hairline receding, wrinkles and all. It would have been better if he wasn’t still handsome despite this, but beggers can’t be choosers.

“Miss y/l/n,” Mycroft said, his voice raising as if he were asking a question more than a greeting. You decided not to respond, turning your head towards Sherlock, and bade him to continue, which he did without delay. Get him talking about a case and he can go on for hours. You attempted to enjoy your meal, all while trying your utmost not to look across from you but it was so damn hard. Seeing Mycroft hit you like a truck. It brought back all of those unpleasant memories.

--

You had walked into the restaurant, eager and ready. You thought that perhaps ... just maybe... this would be one of the best nights of your life. Mycroft, your partner, had admitted that he had been hiding something and was ready to come clean. You and your girl friends thought this meant that he was going to tell you that he loves you. You wore your best outfit, you had gotten your hair done, your make up was perfect. You were going to open your heart once he did and say those three words back.

You loved him, you loved him, you loved him. The way that he was so smooth. So debonair. So ambitious. He was going places. You were so proud of him for all of it. Every contact that he made, who he’d tell you about, getting excited like a child because he shook the hand of someone in parliament. He opened doors for you, he would ask you what you wanted at a restaurant and then order it for you, he’d send you flowers when you did well on an exam.

That wasn’t what it was at all. You were having your heart broken. Decimated. Crushed beyond recognition.

An experiment. For school. That’s what this whole thing had been. He’d been studying the psychology of romantic couples, and what better way was there to study than be a part of one himself? He proudly showed you the marks that he had gotten, the stacks of notes in case you wanted to read them over. He had only done a good job because he had a good partner. Well done. Cheerio. Claps all around.

You couldn’t breathe. You felt like you were drowning, you just wanted to flail, to kick, to pull yourself up into the air but you were also terrified of making a scene in the restaurant, of having everyone look at you and know immediately that you were nothing more than a grade, not good for anything else. Wasted time, wasted effort, wasted love.

“Excuse me,” You said, throwing your napkin down on your half-finished meal and you departed. You didn’t go to the bathroom, you walked home. All fourteen blocks. Your heels clicked and clacked against the London streets, and you hadn’t paid any attention to anyone who walked past you. You think, perhaps, someone had asked you if you were alright? But you weren’t. You just kept walking until your feet hurt, and then you took off your shoes, carried them in your hands, and kept on walking. You had dropped one. You got home with only one of them but you didn’t care. You dropped into your bed and stayed there for two full days.

Mycroft tried to call a couple of times. You kept the phone off the hook. He tried to call some of your friends, but after they had found out what had happened, they said such scathing things that he hadn’t dared to call again. A part of you was hoping that he would show up at your dorm, or at one of your classes and tell you that he knew he had made a mistake, but that was not something that a Holmes would ever do. As far as you knew, he had never showed up.

Time went on, life went on, but you never forgot the pain. You never forgot Mycroft. You tried to go on dates with other men, your friends setting you up, dating apps, people from work, but it never felt right. If they didn’t open the doors for you, or offer to order for you, it felt like you weren’t being treated quite right. If they did do those things, since there are still gentlemen left in the world, you couldn’t trust that there was some ulterior motive. That this was a study. A joke. Nothing ever got past a first date. A spinster by twenty-five.

--

You hated how much you looked at him while you were trying not to. Out of the corner of your eye, there he was. In the reflection of your knife. Of your wineglass. Every time that you heard his voice, you remembered the sweet nights, the old dates. The conversations that lasted for hours. You tried to focus on what Sherlock was saying, but it felt impossible. You were trying to overcome that feeling of drowning again. Trying to keep in control and not just walk out like you had the last time.

But when it came down to it, you were still just help in a study. Whether it was for school, or for a case, it was all the same.

When the waiter came around with the bill, you jumped at the chance to leave at an appropriate time. You went through your purse, dug out some notes, and put them onto the table. “Well, gentlemen, it has been a lovely evening.” Your voice was shaky, giving you away. You did your best to ignore that. Pretend it didn’t happen. Pretend a lot of this didn’t happen, for your own sake. “I’m glad you have been of help, and I hope all goes well.”

“So you do still love him,” Sherlock said, making all eyes at the table, including yours, turn to him. And then six were right back on you.

“P-pardon?” You asked, hoping you heard him incorrectly.

“You’re flushed, your palms are sweaty,” Sherlock started to list.

“It’s warm in here.”

“Your voice went higher once he came in-”

“Did not.”

“The complete and utter avoidance while you were still mirroring his movements,”

“We’re at a restaurant, everyone is eating here...”

“And you’ve been fidgeting for the past half hour,” Sherlock finished.

“How do you know I don’t just fidget all of the time?” You argued.

“Pardon, I forgot becoming defensive.”

You couldn’t take anymore. You finally looked right over to Mycroft. Stared into his blue-gray eyes. And then yours narrowed. “I’ll never forgive what you did to me, Mycroft Holmes. Not for any of it.”

And you stood up then. No one tried to stop you this time around. Sherlock didn’t have anything witty to say, or if he did, it blended in with the rest of the noise of the restaurant. You took your leave. You stepped out into the gloomy London evening, raised your arm and fetched yourself a cab. You got into it slowly, situating yourself, looking towards the door of the restaurant, hoping and also dreading that he might come out. That Mycroft is going to run out and apologize and grovel at your feet. No. He didn’t happen. So you gave your address to the patient cab driver and made your way home.

At least you had both shoes on this time.

[lisbeth-kk]

#FFF209

Sherlock fandom. Sherlock is back, but how to tell John?

On a bench in Regent’s Park

He’s waited for this day for so long. Yearned to be back home. To be safe again. Having Mrs. Hudson fuzz and bring him her baked goods and tea, urging him to eat something. Getting texts from Lestrade with an odd case, maybe an eight. Ignoring his meddling big brother to his wits end and chuckle at it with…

He almost doesn’t dare think about John’s reaction when he walks into the flat. Will he be angry? Oh, yes, if there’s one thing Sherlock’s certain of it’s John’s anger. Being left out of the loop and Sherlock trusting Molly instead of his best friend to fake his own death. Yes, that would get John’s temper to erupt.  

How can he explain and make John understand why he stood on the edge at the roof of Barts and seconds later jumped off it? The more he’s thought about it, the crueller and more uncalled for it seems. Then again, Moriarty didn’t give him much choice, did he? Either Sherlock jumped or John, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson got killed by snipers. So, no, it had to be done. Sherlock would’ve killed himself for real if the three people dearest to him suffered that fate. John in particular.

Sherlock stalls. He craves the scents and all the bric-a-brac that is the core of 221B, but he’s a coward. Just waiting a little bit longer before finding out how his return will be received. Sherlock finds a secluded bench in Regent’s Park where he can take in the other people strolling around. He deduces some of them, but his thoughts are diverted to a subject more important than this game of deductions. John. How to…

Sherlock’s been deep in thought and hasn’t heard the footsteps approaching the bench. His eyes focuses when he hears a hitched breath. Standing before him is John Watson. His eyes are wide, clenched fists cover his mouth and his body trembles. When his knees buckle, Sherlock catches him, and without thinking, he envelopes John in his arms and murmurs soothing words into his hair.

“I’m so sorry, John. If I could have told you, I would. Please believe that. Moriarty gave me no other choice. It was me or you, and you had to believe it to be real, or you would’ve been killed. I’ve missed you so much, John.”

The more Sherlock speaks, the more John relaxes. He can hear muffled sobs against his chest, but Johns arms are now around Sherlock’s waist, and John holds on for dear life. When Sherlock tries to draw back a little, John won’t let him, and Sherlock finally relaxes too. When John speaks Sherlock realises that John’s been standing on his own edge with an abyss underneath.

“I’ve been so lonely since you left, Sherlock. It’s been like it was before we met. My limp’s come back, I barely sleep, I hate being social, because everyone’s so concerned that I’ve grieved you like…like…”

John trails off and looks up at Sherlock with tears in his eyes.

“Like what, John?” Sherlock asks softly and cradles John’s face.

John doesn’t answer. Not with words, but his eyes give Sherlock the answer he’s hoped for. He bows his head and pecks John’s lips carefully. When he moves back a fraction, John’s eyes are closed, and a small smile graces his lips.

“Do that again,” he murmurs, and Sherlock doesn’t need to be asked twice.

@flashfictionfridayofficial

[mariana-oconnor]

The Dancing Men pt 1

His head was sunk upon his breast, and he looked from my point of view like a strange, lank bird, with dull grey plumage and a black top-knot.

This is probably not the image ACD (nor Watson) intended to conjure up, but this was what I immediately thought of.

Ooh, we're starting with a Holmes deducing Watson section again. That hasn't happened for a while. I thought Watson had got over his amazement at having it turned on him. Apparently not.

I looked with amazement at the absurd hieroglyphics upon the paper. “Why, Holmes, it is a child's drawing,” I cried.

Watson knows some very intelligent egyptologist children.

“Well, Mr. Holmes, what do you make of these?” he cried. “They told me that you were fond of queer mysteries, and I don't think you can find a queerer one than that."

Yes, but aside from Holmes' taste in literature, what about the paper?

OH, I have read this one before. I didn't remember the title, but I do remember the little stick figures. Not that that reminds me of anything else.

"You'll think it very mad, Mr. Holmes, that a man of a good old family should marry a wife in this fashion, knowing nothing of her past or of her people; but if you saw her and knew her it would help you to understand."

Oh no, Mr Cubitt, have you been honey trapped?

"If you take me, Hilton, you will take a woman who has nothing that she need be personally ashamed of; but you will have to be content with my word for it, and to allow me to be silent as to all that passed up to the time when I became yours."

Oh dear... this is not a good sign. If you're not willing to share your past with the guy, you really shouldn't share your future with him. Where's the trust? Where's the communication? You don't have to explain everything in detail, but he should have at least a little idea of what it's about.

Red flags once again.

"It was only the day before our wedding that she said those very words to me."

She might be a perfectly nice person, but she doesn't trust you

"None did come for a week, and then yesterday morning I found this paper lying on the sun-dial in the garden."

I might be remembering wrong, but last time a mysterious coded message was left on a sundial in these stories, three people were murdered by the KKK.

That story also started with a person being deiberately secretive with information that could have savde people's lives.

“Don't you think, Mr. Cubitt,” said he, at last, “that your best plan would be to make a direct appeal to your wife, and to ask her to share her secret with you?” Hilton Cubitt shook his massive head. “A promise is a promise, Mr. Holmes. If Elsie wished to tell me she would. If not, it is not for me to force her confidence. But I am justified in taking my own line—and I will.”

Because hiring a detective to snoop into your wife's secret past is so much better than asking her directly. I get that you made a promise, my man, but while this may be sticking to the letter of that promise, it absolutely isn't sticking to the spirit. Asking your wife is definitely the lesser of two evils here.

"After that I determined to lie in wait; so I got out my revolver and I sat up in my study, which overlooks the lawn and garden."

Given that this is Sherlock Holmes story, the person leaving these notes probably is very dastardly and liable to murder, but I'm not sure leaving weird encoded messages really calls for guns.

“‘What, be driven out of our own house by a practical joker?’ said I. ‘Why, we should have the whole county laughing at us.’"

"Seizing my pistol I was rushing out, when my wife threw her arms round me and held me with convulsive strength."

Was it a pistol or a revolver? Because earlier you said you got your revolver, and now you're saying pistol...

The dancing stickmen are very cute. I like the upside-down ones the best.

So, is this going to be one of the ones where someone dies before Holmes gets there? It feels like it might be. But ACD does prefer happier endings for his couples when neither of them is the bad guy. Guess I'll have to wait and see.

[alynnl]

hmm...001 for Yuujin x Herlock, and 002 for our girl Susato

001 for HomuMiko (Sholmes x Mikotoba)

When I started shipping it if I did: That final case. When they did the dance of deduction together I was absolutely sold! They were in perfect sync with their movements and their thoughts. A phenomenal moment!

My thoughts: I loved the twist that Mikotoba was Sholmes’s partner in crime solving. It just makes him all that more important to the story. And these two can be both fun and serious when the situation calls for it! Also because they trusted one another with a very important secret, Iris Wilson is alive and well and seems to have a relatively happy life as Sholmes’s adopted daughter. I’m sure these two saved more lives with their deductions too.

What makes me happy about them: They are the Great Ace Attorney’s version of JohnLock! What’s not to love? They really bring out the best in each other when they put their minds together. The fondness is there too and it’s just so warm!

What makes me sad about them: I’ll state the obvious in that they’re separated by geography. Mikotoba lives in Japan, and Sholmes lives in England. And if we go by ACD Holmes canon, that means they’ll both have to live through WW I. But since the original Holmes and Watson survive The Great War in the short story “His Last Bow” then it’s very likely that Sholmes and Mikotoba will too.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: I’ll be honest and say I don’t have the time or energy to read much fanfic, TGAA fic included. But it would annoy me if either of them got killed off for obviously cheap drama. Because they both avoided the Mentor Occupational Hazard and deserve to live into old age!

Things I look for in fanfic: If I were to go looking for fanfic, I’d probably want more of them solving mysteries. I’d also want soft domesticity, and maybe even family time with their daughters. A family portrait with Yujin, Sholmes, Susato and Iris needs to happen!

Who I’d be comfortable with them ending up with, if not each other: For Sholmes, I could either see him with Ryunosuke because of how well they deduced together or Barok van Zieks partially for how they would argue like an old married couple, and also for their shared interest of co-parenting/helping raise Iris.

For Yujin it’s harder to say. Maybe if Jigoku hadn’t made his canon mistakes I could see them together. But we all know he’d rather have Ayame still be alive. :(

My Happily Ever After for them: When they get old, they retire from crime solving. After Iris is grown and married, Sholmes retires to the countryside having grown weary from city life in London. He and Yujin exchange letters at first, and then Yujin comes for an unexpected visit out of the blue. He’s been doing a lot of traveling since leaving his job at the university, and wonders if Sholmes will go with him to see the world.

Sholmes happily accepts and they go on to see many interesting places, meeting interesting people, and sometimes finding one of a kind souvenirs to send to their family and friends. When the years go by they eventually end up staying in Sholmes’s countryside home, where they write pages and pages about their adventures that will be remembered long after they’re gone.

Who is the big spoon/little spoon: Sholmes is the big spoon. He’s the more cuddly of the two of them.

What is their favorite non-sexual activity: Solving mysteries, anywhere and everywhere. It could be as trivial as one of Iris’s missing teacups or as important as the case of The Naval Treaty. If there are clues to be followed, they’ll find out what they mean!

002 for Susato Mikotoba

How I feel about this character: She’s the greatest judicial assistant in the world! Seriously, she’s awesome. I like her book smarts and her attention to detail. She’s tough and will throw anyone with a Susato Takedown, but she also has her soft, empathetic side that I like to see. She’s the definition of “silk hiding steel” and will stand up to anyone when she has to.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: I’ll be honest and say I don’t really romantically ship her? I just didn’t see any romantic chemistry between her and anyone else. I know that GinaSusa, SusaRei and RyuSusa are all ships I’ve seen. Whatever floats your boat I guess, but to me Susato seems to have other priorities than romance at the moment.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: With Ryunosuke. They are legal partners and slowly become good friends! Their bond is natural and withstands a lot of adversity that they each face, both separately and together. They can count on one another. That’s exactly what friends are for!

My unpopular opinion about this character: Susato doesn’t necessarily need to become a lawyer. She went on the study trip to become a judicial assistant, and I could picture her staying on that path. In the Ace Attorney franchise, the legal assistants are just as important as the lawyers and their contributions are invaluable.

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with the character in canon: I would have liked to know more about her home life and the grandmother she lived with. Was her grandmother strict, or was she kind, possibly a mixture of both? Does Susato write poetry or do calligraphy? Let me know about her hobbies! (Maybe some of this was covered and I overlooked it through.)

My OTP: Not really with a person. But Susato x Literature is definitely canon though

My crossover ship: Not any I can think of at the moment.

A headcanon fact: The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles is split into chapters because Susato wrote a book about those events in her life. The book was a best-seller, and a treasured family heirloom that was passed down to her descendants in the modern days of the first Phoenix Wright trilogy.

[asherloki]

Vintage love

Victorian Sherlock Holmes

Part 2

A/n:- hi victorian Sherlock is been on my mind for a little long, so I wrote it, thought to portray a bit of victorian era, sorry if wasn't accurate or stereotypical. Hope you like it.

It was late November 1889, victorian era, London was absolutely drowned in snow. When the most famous and only consulting detective Sherlock Holmes was solving mysteries for Scotland yard, with his friend John Watson.

It was a fine morning, until snow started to fall. Sherlock and John both went to Scotland yard to talk to lestrade about a case.

"No lestrade you don't understand, Robert isn't the one who did it"

"Mr Holmes, I need proof if you differ"

"Fine I'll get, and I'll show how right my deduction is and remember...." Saying this he turned to find out a beautiful woman, in Scotland yard, in late 80s. He could deduce by her confident features she is proud or rather hiding her insecurity with that and by her engagement ring she was someone's beau, so she went there to probably meet her beau.

"Mr Holmes?" Asked lestrade

"Holmes" whispered John to Sherlock's ears. It startled him.

"Ah , yeah what?"

"The proof?" Asked lestrade.

"You'll get, but who is she" he pointed to that woman.

"Fiance of Mr Radcliffe"

"That stupid junior inspector of yours?" Asked him

"Yes why? He earns alot, anyone would want to marry him." Explained lestrade

"Except her" whispered Sherlock.

"Sorry Holmes " asked john as he heard him murmure.

"Nothing, anyway lestrade I'm going to investigate now so see you tomorrow " said Holmes walking towards the gate where the woman was standing.

"Holmes wait," John stopped Sherlock"should we get that copy of the paper which has the case details from lestrade?"

Sherlock knew it would take sometime so he said "hm that might be better watson "

So John went and Sherlock quietly, step by step moved forward to beau of Mr Radcliffe. Someone came to her before Sherlock could and said, "ah Mrs Radcliffe, good morning"

"Not yet, I'm still Ms Stevens and yes good morning Mr Crawley"

"Yes but you will be his wife after all, look at him what a charming guy" he said pointing to Mr Radcliffe

"Yeah, charming, smiles more like a lunatic " said she annoyed, Sherlock heard everything from behind and he found her rather interesting.

"Ah what?" Asked Mr Crawley

"Nothing, when can he be free? His parents are at my place, I was asked to fetch him by my family "

"I'll ask Mrs rad.... I'm sorry Ms Stevens." Saying this he went to fetch him.

"Why are you marrying him" a heavy voice said from behind her and she was startled. She turned to look at Sherlock Holmes.

"You startled me"

"I know, why are you marrying him?" Asked he

"Sorry I didn't understand " she said

"You clearly aren't that much fond of him so why?" Asked he

"You must be kidding, I'm fond of him, anyway he understands my dreams and would let me pursue my hobbies, I'm good with him, who are you though, in this age where women are barely allowed to do things which they want, he'd let me do it." asked she.

Sherlock thought he might've deduced wrong, her face didn't say she was lying about the points.

"You know him, he's Sherlock Holmes, the most famous detective in town" said Mr Radcliffe. She didn't show any excitement to see him rather was excited to know she really met her idol.

"Wait what? Mr Sherlock Holmes? Oh I'm so sorry I was" she stumbled and blabbered until Sherlock said

"It's okay no problem"

"And Mr Radcliffe, what did you say? Most famous in town? He's literally the most famous detective in England, rather in the whole world, and he's not just a detective, he's the only private detective in the world" she said as she's done research on him.

"You know me well?" Asked Sherlock

"Well I don't know you much but your cases, I read all of those which doctor Watson publishes.

"Yes she does" said Mr Radcliffe but it barely hit Sherlock's ear, seeing someone interested in him, likes him, excited to meet him is rare, someone who's literally ahead of her time, just like him.

"Holmes shall we?" Asked John.

"Oh yes yes sure" said Sherlock "see you, both of you" then looked at her and said "I wish all the best for your wedding" and he left putting his on his hat. She kept on staring at him saying to herself, "yes now that's him, with that hat"

"Wake up" Mr Radcliffe said, waving his hand infront of her.

"I'm awake" said she giggling "but I forgot to tell him my name"

"It's okay, we'll invite him to our wedding"

"If he comes though" said she,

"What was he saying?"

"Nothing just, casual talks, let's go home" said she, remembering what he said, that she doesn't like her fiance.

Sherlock couldn't stop thinking about her through his ride to his house. He was fascinated by her confidence and sparkle in her eyes which appeared for him not for her fiance.

Next day he went with his proves to lestrade to tell him his deduction was right and not lestrade's. "Now here you have all that you need"

"It was my mistake to not to believe you Mr Holmes"

"Okay then, I think I should return now" said he after he solved the case with all his proves and dedication and narrated everything to him, just thought if he could see her again, like how yesterday he met her. He walked out of there and his heart beated fast to see the one standing infront of him whom he was looking for, waiting for a carriage. He went forward and greeted, "good afternoon"

"Oh ... Good afternoon, do you always startle people?" Said she smiling

"Perhaps, I'm not aware, waiting for a cab ?"

"Yes, oh there comes one"

"Ah" he was disappointed he couldn't talk to her for long "see you"

"You can come in if you want to, I don't mind"

"And I hope it won't be problem for people "

"I don't care, you know they say I'm a woman ahead of her time " said she

"And I'm a man ahead of my time" he replied smiling and they got it.

"I'm so stupid, I didn't tell you my name Mr Holmes, I'm y/n"

"Well nice to meet you Ms y/n"

"Me too, London is so beautiful isn't it, look at the snow, wonder how people moves from here"

"You aren't moving aren't you " enquired Sherlock, he just found himself a beautiful friend, he wasn't ready to let her go.

"I wish I could just stay, but Mr Radcliffe is being transferred to Yorkshire so..."

"Oh" said Sherlock

"When's your marriage?"

"In a week"

"I wanna stay here, I love being in London "

"Why?" Asked he "if you don't mind "

"It's just, you know I love it"

Which wasn't true and Sherlock knew it.

"Radcliffe is older than you isn't he?"

"Yes, ten years almost "

Through the ride the talked and found out how similar they are, "you're the first person who agrees to me in many things Mr Holmes "

"And alongside with watson, you're that one for me as well, why did we stop?" Asked Sherlock to the chauffeur

"We've reached my house Mr Holmes " said she. Sherlock looked out side and saw a fairly big house.

"You've got a big house I see" said he smiling

"Let me help you" he got down and took her hand helping her to get down as well, snow was falling down and they stood in the heart of England, in busy England, he holding her soft small hand. He knew her marriage with Radcliffe wouldn't be something both of them would like, "may I dare to ask you something?" He enquired

"Sure" she replied

"Would you marry someone who lives in London and also respects you and your hobbies?"

"Um yes I guess "

"Uh okay" said he and looked at a flower shop next to her house.

"Will you marry someone maybe a little more older than you with previous qualities? Maybe 15-16 years older?"

"Well that's alot but can handle maybe"

"Give me a minute, chauffeur help her taking out her bag please" saying he went to that shop and came with bunch of pink and red roses, "okay so I've never done this before but" he got down on one knee and raised his flowers to her, she was too spellbound to speak anything, he said, "I don't have a big house like yours, I'm not as young as you, I'm not as good looking as you and..." Where she interrupted and said,

"What ? You look so dishy, oh sorry I don't know what I was thinking " and blushed.

"Okay, and I don't earn as much as Radcliffe, but enough I guess, so will you y/n stevens mind to marry me?"

She was stunned and her mouth was open but managed to say, "Mr Holmes I...I'm engaged"

"I know, and you are not ready to marry Radcliffe"

"Why would you wanna marry me?"

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Asked he

"Maybe a little"

"This is my love at first sight" said he standing up and then he asked, "but when I will retire I'd go back to my country side house, would you like to come with me then as well"

"Yes" said she without thinking.

"So london isn't the reason" asked Sherlock. To which she blushed.

"You are rather intelligent Mr Holmes, I wanted to be in London so I can be in the city where you are, I went to Scotland yard alot, using meeting with Radcliffe as an excuse to bump into you someday perhaps, and I've loved you when I first saw your unclear picture in papers, reading about your intelligence beside."

"So you've loved me since then ?" Asked he

"But it's not gonna work I'm engaged"

"I'll Talk to everyone, I'll marry you if you agree, I'm never gonna let you go" said he holding her hand and planting a kiss on her palm.

She took the flowers and put off her engagement ring.

"But they say I'm too opinionated

"And I like that about you"

"So , the chemist and detective is in love with a person, who loves reading, writing, painting.."

"And singing " said he

"How do you know?"

"I heard you humming and yes I do love you "

She came closer to his ear and whispered, "I will marry you Mr Holmes".

[no-side-us]

Letters From Watson Liveblog - Nov. 27

The Red Circle, Part 1 of 2

I love quick little lines like this. I can imagine Watson writing the first part of the sentence, realizing it makes Holmes seem too vain, and then adding more to not make it seem so insulting.

Mrs. Warren really came prepared for her meeting with Holmes. If only every client could be so gracious as to bring a bunch of seemingly innocuous trash for Holmes to deduce from.

That's a pretty sensible response to the situation. As far as difficult lodgers go, this guy isn't even as bad as Holmes can be at times, and as far as we know Mrs. Hudson never hired a detective to investigate him.

I assume women back then were supposed to write in a specific way different from men, which would be ridiculous though not surprising. Otherwise, I don't see what else this could mean.

If you imagine this story does indeed take place soon after the Baron Gruner one, then Watson's concern here seems more poignant. Mr. Warren getting randomly accosted on the street probably reminds Watson of the same thing happening to Holmes. Coupled also with the fact in this story they're living together again, then you can imagine Watson moving back in precisely to warn Holmes away from dangerous cases.

I wonder what the Italian translation of this story does here. Does it just keep it the same, thus making Holmes and Watson kind of dumb, or is it changed to a more obscure Italian word or something. Stuff like that has always interested me.

Wouldn't that be funny? If the secret messages being cut off was actually due to the guy slipping on a banana peel or sneezing or whatever else instead of the more sinister possibilities.

Part 1 - Part 2

[tobiasdrake]

This is so complicated.

Before we can even think about "Why is Yakou dead", we need to first interrogate why Yakou is here. Yakou broke into Amaterasu HQ with Fubuki and Desuhiko in tow. There are two major questions regarding that.

The first is how. How did they even get past the biometric scanner at the front gate? My tentative answers are either Desuhiko's Disguise can fool biometrics (because superpower) or they rode in on a troop transport of some kind.

The second question is why. Yakou showed us the Slaughter Artist death threat letter but. Like. Why would he care?

Fink's going to murder an Amaterasu employee in the most secure location in the entire city? Cool. Whatever. You do you, man. Why's that our business? I was involved because Makoto dragged me into it. What's Yakou's excuse? Why would he care?

Yakou wasn't exactly a gung-ho agent of justice or anything. He wanted us to keep our heads down and stay out of trouble. Breaking into Amaterasu HQ (to protect Amaterasu personnel no less) is super OOC for him.

Why would Yakou care? He wouldn't. Not about Huesca. Maybe about the homunculus thing; He was pretty gung-ho about taking Huesca into custody so we could make him tell us about homunculi. But would he care enough to go to war with Amaterasu over it?

And on the other side of the coin, why would Fink kill him? Huesca, I understand. Why Yakou? You just pulled off the impossible murder of the century in the Most Locked-est Room Ever and now the place is crawling with police. But you're going to stop escaping for five minutes so you can stab a random unrelated third party?

No. There's no reason Fink would do that, right?

This feels personal. Both Yakou's sudden OOC determination to gamble it all for a chance at facing Fink and Fink's inexplicable decision to waste time and risk getting caught to murder Yakou. These two have a relationship.

Could FInk be the Holmes to Yakou's Watson that he was talking about? If so, then he might have a Forte, which could bridge the gap in how this crime was carried out. Oh, or perhaps he killed Yakou's Holmes, and Yakou wants revenge.

I dunno. Lot of questions. Lots of possibilities to consider. Not much opportunity to investigate the crime scenes. Nor does it seem like the scenes hold much answers for investigation to find in the first place.

Dead detective. What's it look like? We both lost someone today. Though, I will grant you, yours is the greater loss.

That's seriously your takeaway? Yomi is the most incurious person I've ever met. No wonder his underlings were so bad at examining crimes.

My initial read of Peacekeeper leadership was that they're so corrupt they don't even care who goes down for a crime, as long as they get to look good by nailing someone. But given how hard Yomi rants about "I HAVE BROUGHT PEACE AND JUSTICE TO MY CITY!!!", I'm beginning to wonder if he's really just the dumbest motherfucker ever to put on a badge.

I cannot tell if he's spinning narratives to justify whatever he wants to be true, or if he's genuinely this awful at interpreting events unfolding in front of his eyes. Dude's breakfast toast could come out too crispy on one side and he'd deduce, "The coffee maker is conspiring to deceive the toaster oven into burning my toast. The coffee maker must be destroyed."

...I mean, I once accused my co-investigator of the murder so I don't have room to talk. But. Still.

Did you honestly expect any different out of Yomi? No, Yuma, Yomi's not going to bend over backwards to save the life of a man he wants dead.

Huh. Yuma Yomi. Similar names. That's funny. Maybe we're both homunculi, and our makers aren't very creative. :P

Honestly, Fubuki, I don't think there was anything you could have done. Even with foreknowledge, at no point since we entered the bottleneck that is the lab's security chambers could you have possibly averted this.

Plus, Yakou probably would have made an excuse to get away from you if you had managed to. I think he meant for this confrontation with Fink to happen. Maybe didn't mean for it to end like that. But I think this is what he came here for.

He doesn't even have anyone to impress. He's not trying to look good for some nebulous superior officer. The only superior he has is Makoto, who he despises.

He really is this incurious, isn't he?

Oh man. Yomi's bad day is about to get a lot worse. :D

Though the fact that Vivia and Halara are on the premises means we may have to consider them viable suspects for Fink's identity. I KNOW I KNOW but I mean that sincerely this time.

The most likely answer for Fink's identity is. Like. Some guy. He's a famous hitman. There's no reason to assume anybody here is secretly Fink when he could just as easily have come in from the outside via Awesome Hitman Skills.

But if we do wind up having to Whodunit Fink, our suspect pool is basically Makoto, Halara, and Vivia at this time. Robot Researcher doesn't have the body type for it and Yomi was in the lab when Fink was passing me in the hall.

That's not so bad at all, given that it's Yomi and his personal squad. Shows you exactly how intimidated Halara is by these dipshits. These are bargain bin beatdowns.

So apparently Vivia is as badass as Halara. It's hard to get a good shot of him in motion. He seems to leave a blur effect behind him as he moves.

All of that lounging is him storing energy for ruining your day when you fuck around.

For context, Halara Bullseye trickshotted that coin into a fucker's eye. It's lying on the floor right now beneath the Peacekeepers' feet. They're just making sure Yomi knows that they will pry it out of his cold, dead fingers if he gets handsy about it.

I love Halara so much. We see that particular coin with Halara a lot, and they often use it as their opener. They did something similar at the Clock Tower back in Chapter 1, trick-shotting the coin into a Peacekeeper as a distraction. I wonder if that one specific coin has any deep significance for them personally?

Questions for later. We are in a fucking brawl, LET'S GO!

And by "Let's go", I mean, "Go to a place where the violence is not happening and let the people who can break cops in half with their bare hands, y'know, do that." We shoved Desuhiko at them and now Bestie and I are free to run like hell.

No. Stop that. Without your save-scumming powers, we never would have been able to penetrate Huesca's lab, where we were then cornered by--

Oh. Shit. Um. You saved me from getting shot and becoming a straw a couple days ago.

I'm amazed that you beat Yomi so badly that you were able to grab Yakou on your way out. Must have sent him running for the hills.

That's more or less the question of the hour, isn't it? What possible reason would Fink have to kill Yakou?

Upgrade that "might" to a "certainly" because Yuma looks like he throws a punch with all the force of a limp noodle. There's no way he outfights a legendary assassin.

Vivia? Maybe. Halara? Without question. Fubuki? Time manipulation could make all the difference. But Yuma? Fuck no.

[judyfromfinance]

Olden Times. Modern Thinking.

A playlist

All the songs here are meant to be an inner monologue of the reader and how she thinks or feels about certain characters. Or just songs that the reader believes fit the people that they have met.

And other songs are from the perspective of that character and how they think or feel about the reader. Which ones are which? You’ll have to figure that out. 🫠 Lol.

(Mind you, some of these characters she hasn’t met yet in the story but this is my playlist that I’m working off of for the story. So you can deduce what you want with some of these songs and what they might mean for the story further down the road!)

Ain’t Nobody Takin My Baby by Russ (Heimdall)

Novocaine by The Unlikely Candidates (Heimdall)

Boys Will Be Bugs by Cavetown (Atreus)

Oh Ana by Mother Mother (Heimdall)

It’s Alright by Mother Mother (Kratos)

in your arms by saib (Heimdall)

Mr. Watson by Cruel Youth (Freyr & Heimdall) 👀💀

Wait a Minute! by Willow Smith (Heimdall)

Lowlife by That Poppy (Angrboda & Atreus) Reader saved this song because Angrboda said it reminded her of Atreus~. Aaahh, young love.

Rain by Grandson and Jessie Reyez (Freya)

Overwhelmed by Royal and the Serpent (Sindri)

Ain’t it Fun by Paramore (Atreus)

Out Of Sight by Chelou (Thor)

Put It All On Me by Phil Good (Kratos)

We Are Giants by Lindsey Stirling feat. Dia Frampton (Faye)

Body by Mother Mother (Skjoldr) This won’t make sense till we get to that part of the story. Sorry.

Lemon Boy by Cavetown (Heimdall)

Blow My Brains Out by Tikkle Me (Thrud) She’s a tough and smart girl that one.

Youth by Glass Animals (Freya)

Dancing on Glass by St. Lucia (Freyr)

No Words by Erik Hassle (Freyr)

It’s Time by Imagine Dragons (Sindri & Brok)

Electric Feel by MGMT (Heimdall)

Earfquake by Tyler the Creator (Heimdall)

Fxxk Boyz Get Money by FEMM (Reader) Because she (and y’all) are bad bitches that don’t need no man especially prick ass hoes that think they all that just cause their gods. As if.

Are most of these for Heimdall??? Yes. Do I care??? No. Lol. Anyways I don’t know if y’all will even care about this or even see it but it’s out there now soooo…. It is what it is.

Let me know if I should actually make it a playlist on YouTube or something for you guys.

[thelazyecrivain]

Fluffbruary - Day 14 (teach)

Fourteenth day of @fluffbruary, using the prompt "teach"

Read on AO3

French version

-----

"You can look." 

Rosie knelt on her chair to reach the height of a microscope and looked through the scope. She let out an "ooooooooh." Sherlock smiled at the girl and changed the size of the magnifying glass to enlarge. She looked at him, surprised but quickly returned to the microscope.

"This is what your hair looks like, Watson." Said Sherlock and even though Rosie didn't respond, he knew she was listening. "What you really need to know is that hair is made up of two parts. There's the living part, which you can't see and is in the scalp, which is the hair follicle. And the visible part, the hair, also called the hair shaft, which is actually dead matter." 

Rosie seems focused on what he is saying, attentive to his words. When she seems to understand, she picks up a strand of hair framing her face. "Dead hair?" She asks.

"Exactly." Sherlock asserts, a proud smile on his lips.

If other children would have winced, horrified at having something dead on their head, Rosie nodded, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"How much hair?" Rosie asked.

"We estimate between 100,000 and 150,000 hairs. So we can lose around 100 hairs a day."

"Whoah, a lot of hair!" She said, her eyes wide with surprise. She grabbed a larger lock of hair and gazed at it, as if ready to count the hairs herself, but quickly changed her mind.

"I doubt she'll remember any of this." Said John as he walked back into the kitchen, having listened to them from his chair as he read. 

Sherlock turned to him. "She's very curious, she should be encouraged by telling her what she's trying to find out. There's no way I'm telling her she's too young to learn."

John smiled at the veracity of Sherlock's words. No matter what he says, he loves Rosie. He ruffled his hair as he walked behind him. "I wonder where she gets her curiosity from."

Sherlock had a proud smirk. "She knows how to pick her models."

"Let's hope she doesn't take your modesty." Laughs John. Sherlock sends him a dark look. "Are you hungry Rosie?" John asks as he sees that it's snack time.

Rosie gives him a similar look as Sherlock when he says something stupid. "Focus on hair! Not hungry." 

John held up his hands. "I was just asking." John defended himself.

"Come on, John." Sherlock bit back. "Don't distract her in the middle of an experiment." 

John squinted at Sherlock, sending him a warning not to play this game too much. 

"Since it's like that, I'm leaving." Said John like a five year old. He returns to his book, leaving the two scientists in their corner. For once he can read a book without Sherlock deducing the ending.

"It was the mother who killed her daughter." Says Sherlock and John can hear the smirk in his voice.

Damn it. John closed his book with a sigh. Next time he'll put on headphones so he won't hear it.

(tell me if you wish to be tagged !) @topsyturvy-turtely @missdeliadili