#the sane one • mycroft

[tex-treasure-chamber]

Bbc Purrrrrlock picrew time :3c

Picrew found here!

Sherlock John

Aurian (Cookie's OC) Mycroft

Eurus Molly

Jim

I made two versions of Tex! (L) where xe is adopted into the Holmes family and (R) where xe is legit a born and bred Holmes :>

You can find more information about Aurian at Cookie's blog for them: @goldfish-notepad :>!!

#tex talks #i love my egghead bröther • sherlock #soldier boy • watson #madness is silver but normalcy is golden • aurian #the sane one • mycroft #queen of the dead • molly #you deserved better • eurus #king of my heart • moriarty

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom. He hasn't heard his name been spoken for nearly two years.

Like a caress

All those months away did things to him. He was used to being in disguise on occasions in London, but only brief. Travelling around the world hunting down Moriarty’s network, didn’t allow him to be Sherlock Holmes. It was too dangerous, because to most of the world he was considered dead. Buried even. 

John’s prayer at his gravestone, almost broke Sherlock.

“Don’t be dead. For me.”

Those words haunted his dreams almost every night before he returned home. 

In his prison cell in Serbia, imaginary John talked to him, kept him sane and alert. Sherlock knew he wasn’t there, not for real, but his brain wasn’t functioning at its best capacity, so he made this version of John promise never to call him by his name. If his jailers heard, they wouldn’t end the torture until he talked, and he didn’t have the strength to hold on for that long. 

When Mycroft finally turned up, he called him by another name. The name he’d chosen to use most of his time abroad. It was like he knew Sherlock was in such a fragile state that he probably would collapse if even his own brother called him by his given name. 

***

Back in his beloved London, Sherlock felt reborn. He walked the streets for hours to get re-acquainted with the old lady. His walk ended outside a black door with a brass knocker and the number 221 above it. Despite the fact it was two in the morning, the lights in the living room were turned on. John was awake, or he might’ve fallen asleep in his chair. Sherlock inhaled sharply when he saw John’s familiar figure suddenly appear in the window, gazing blindly into the night. He looked so lost, and Sherlock knew it was his fault. He was to blame for so much. It was almost unfathomable. He’d ruined the lives he’d jumped to protect. Could they ever forgive him, and John in particular?

Only one way to find out. 

Sherlock carefully ascended to 221B and opened the door without a sound. John turned around abruptly when Sherlock locked the door with a click that sounded like a gunshot in the silence of the flat. He paled, took a step closer, leaning his hands on the back of Sherlock’s chair, staring, drinking in the sight of his not dead friend. 

“John,” Sherlock said softly, feeling his heart flutter with excitement at seeing the real John again. His John.  

John’s face scrunched up and a sob escaped him. His knees gave way, but Sherlock had seen the signs and was at John’s side to catch him in his arms. John grabbed the front of the Belstaff so hard his knuckles whitened, and he cried into Sherlock’s chest, while Sherlock stroked his back soothingly.

When John spoke, Sherlock stopped breathing. His name had never before been spoken this reverently, this incredulous, this loving.

 “Sherlock. My God, it’s you. Sherlock, I’ve missed you so much. Sherlock.”

His name in John’s mouth was like a caress, and he didn’t need to be afraid of it being said out loud anymore. He, the man known by another name, many other names even, was back where he belonged, and he couldn’t wait for John to say his name again. Every day from now on. 

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @safedistancefrombeingsmart @topsyturvy-turtely @gregorovitchworld @peanitbear @helloliriels

#flash fic friday #flashfiction #sherlock fandom #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #sherlock fanfic #johnlock #fix it fic

[queerholmcs]

okay. you know the drill. i do need to elaborate on some of these, moreso than is allowed within the character limit of the polls; see the read more at the bottom of the post. yes it gets a bit long, i'm sorry, i'm not normal about this show, we've established this.

stop making me watch this. this is indecent. this is not suitable for public television. please get a room.

they all know sherlock and they know that he's insane. where they go wrong is in assuming that john must then be the sane one of the pair of them. (save mycroft; see number five.)

'here, use mine' as the obvious opener. but then we also get the bit where john returns to baker street and sherlock's like 'oh haha yeah i called you across town to ask you to send a text' and john gives him the most exasperated, reluctant look before giving sherlock his phone (heart). because at this point, there is no other option. (i won't say more. essays have already been written on the matter.)

the way a point is made to demonstrate sherlock's deliberate ignorance of molly's attempts at flirting. and john's painfully awkward attempts to hit on mycroft's PA. contrasted with their every moment on screen together. 'we can't giggle, it's a crime scene!' SHUT UP.

where do i start with this one. (mycroft is my favourite. i'm not sorry.) he puts so much effort into this stupid little trick and john completely holds his own against him. he's also the only one to see that john is also not sane and that as much as sherlock is going to be some sort of influence on john, john is going to do the same to sherlock. 'might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?' → 'i can see from your left hand that's not going to happen' → 'time to choose a side.' hello??????? thank goodness mark gatiss mycroft holmes is here to spell things out for us.

it all starts when john says 'i looked you up on the internet last night' (weird move, it has to be said) and then doesn't immediately praise sherlock's blog. but then he also doesn't tell sherlock to piss off for deducing him and airing his family secrets like that? and from that point on, every remotely clever thing sherlock says, he looks to john for his response. ('do you know you do that out loud?' 'sorry, i'll shut up.' 'no, it's... fine.') i maintain that he only points out anderson and donovan's little affair to show off for john.

look. do i even have to say anything here. we establish that everyone sherlock interacts with thinks he's gay. we establish that john and sherlock are both unattached and that girlfriends definitely aren't sherlock's area and that it's fine to have a boyfriend, by the way, john thinks this is fine, just if you wondered, he's also unattached and it's fine if girls aren't your cup of tea and have we mentioned they're both unattached? and they have what is about the most intimate eye contact ever for far too long while doing so.

chance or chess? play the game. engage with the story. read between the lines. is it a bluff? or a double bluff? or a triple bluff? play the game. (mention the game one more time. i dare you. shut up.)

this is in both the physical and the metaphorical sense. they have no concept of personal space, either of them, and it is a bit awkward for everyone else in the room who's forced to watch them make bedroom eyes at each other. on the metaphorical side—john is the first to say 'actually, it's not obvious, so get on with it and share your thoughts with the class, would you?' and '...bit not good, yeah. maybe be slightly more sensitive to people's emotions, there.' and 'you're so full of it. you absolutely do guess, admit it, i can tell when you're lying.' lestrade watches them interact for all of ten minutes and then declares that, though he's known sherlock for five years, he still doesn't know sherlock nearly as well as john does.

who is he? well, he's with sherlock. it's sherlock holmes and doctor watson. they're a set. (do not separate!) they go together, they are defined by each other, they balance each other far too perfectly to ever be removed again. welcome to The Dynamic. you'll never know peace again. (or is that just me?)

#bbc sherlock #asip #sherlock #i know which one is going to win and i am SO tempted to not even offer it as an option. nevertheless.

[patdkoala]

New Neighbor

Pairing: Sam Claflin x Female Reader

Warnings: None This is Pure Fluff

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT A PART TWO I kinda want a part two

I just moved into my new apartment complex. It's nice. Clean. Quiet. And it's mostly filled with actors and actresses so the people that live here are rarely home anyway.

I'm a writer. So, I'm always home.

I sit in my apartment, turn on my ambiance lamp, have my record player on a constant rotation of my favorite tunes, and then have my cup of tea.

I will sit there and write for hours on end. If all goes well, I will have written a page and a half during those hours.

I never said I was a good writer. I'm speaking from experience.

One day I was getting home late. (I was sitting at Mcdonald's for two hours just reordering a large fry with a large Dr. Pepper.) I had just stepped out of the elevator and I heard the apartment door next to mine open and then close.

My neighbor was finally home.

For as long as I'd lived here, they had never been home. I've lived here for two years.

I set my giant Dr. Pepper cup on the counter along with my keys and wallet. I turned on my lamp and record player.

I turned it up on full volume like I have been doing for the past two years. I sat down at my desk and started to write about the people I was staring at in McDonald's. Then I heard three knocks at my door.

Quite loudly too if I must say.

"Jeez, I'll be right there!" I yelled as I ran over to the door to answer it.

I opened the door and I shit you not the guy standing there looked like that Billy Dunne fella from that Amazon show I was watching late last night.

"Excuse me, but do you mind turning that down? I'm trying to run lines and we have thin walls," He said as I just stood there and stared at him.

"Are you-" "Yes, I am the man from the tv. Now, do you mind turning that down?" He said in a grumpy old man tone that made me roll my eyes and go to turn it off.

I left the front door open and when I went back over to it, he was gone. So I shut the door and did what any sane person would do, I googled him.

'Main guy from Daisy Jones show'

Sam Claflin. Okay, so I googled something else.

'Sam Claflin movies'

So I watched some.

Okay, I watched all of them. Plus, I finished all of Daisy Jones and started Peaky Blinders.

A few days later, I realized I hadn't written anything for days. I'd been sitting on the couch ordering food to my door and only getting up to use the restroom or answer the door.

I decided to cool it on the Sam Claflin marathon. I got up and took a shower. I then deep-cleaned my whole apartment.

I finally decided to write something. So, I set up my lamp and my record player. I may or may not have forgotten about my neighbor, Sam Claflin.

I started writing and then I heard three distinct knocks at the door. It's funny how I can tell it's his knocks already.

I opened the front door and smiled up at the tall gentleman in front of me. "Hello, Sam Claflin. Would you like for me to turn down the music again?"

"Yes, I- Did you google me?" He asked as I nodded proudly. "I did as a matter of fact. I also watched your whole discography."

"What? No, you didn't. That would have taken you a matter of days."

"I did actually. I'm a big loner with no friends and all I do is spend all day writing in my sad lonely apartment. If I don't go outside for weeks nobody is gonna notice," I said as he just stood there with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Did you watch the Hunger Games?"

"Yes."

"Enola Holmes?"

"Yes, of course, my dear Mycroft," I said with a wink.

"Peaky Blinders?"

"Yes, love the stache by the way."

"Thanks. Did you-"

"Yes. I watched everything. Even the bad romance ones and the-"

"You don't like romance movies? What woman doesn't like romance movies?"

"Ones with brains. They are all the same. They all start the same and all end the same."

"Oh, you've had your heart shattered," He said as he crossed his arms.

"What? No. I've never even been in that sick puppy love before. I've only been in serious relationships with serious men. Not dumb pretty boy actors. Also, what's with you dying in all of your films? And do you only star in book renditions?"

"Did you just call me a pretty boy actor?"

"Is the only thing you heard me say?"

He just stood there and smiled at me. His cheesy British pretty boy actor smile. And I mistakenly smiled back.

"Would you like to have dinner with me?" He asked as I then crossed my arms to match his energy.

"Okay. But, I don't want to go out."

"Okay. We can eat at my place. I'll pick you up at-"

"I can walk next door by myself. You just have dinner ready by 8."

He nodded and then he walked away from the door. I shut it and went back to writing.

I wrote a couple of pages. Nothing much.

I then started to get ready around 7:30. I wasn't going to put much time or effort into this because I don't see it as a date. I see it as a get-together with my cute neighbor who just so happens to be Sam Claflin.

I walked over to his apartment around 8:15.

I knocked three times.

"You're late," He said as I rolled my eyes and walked into his apartment without any introduction.

"Well, I figured you already don't like me so what's the harm in being a few minutes late."

"How can I not like you when I don't even know your name?"

"(Y/N). There now you have every right not to like me."

"Okay, well, (Y/N). I hope you like chicken."

"What if I was a vegetarian? Would you have something else for me to eat?"

"Are you a vegetarian?"

"No."

"Then we won't have to worry about that now do we?"

I smiled at him and then sat down at the two-seater table in the middle of his dining room. His apartment was a little bigger than mine. I guess that comes with being a big-time Hollywood actor.

He had nice things. A big Tv. A big couch. Probably even had a big bed.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't still have my twin bed from my college apartment.

His plants are fake, though. This means that he likes the ambiance that plants create but he doesn't want the commitment of keeping them alive.

"What are you doing?"

"Scoping out your apartment. Seeing if I'm going to steal it from you or not," I said as he laughed and then sat down in front of me.

He poured us both glasses of wine.

"Is this a date?" I asked as he set the bottle down.

"Do you want it to be?"

"Well, I'm just curious because you asked me out before you even knew my name. So, you are either insane or incredibly horny and will most likely fuck anything that moves," I said matter-of-factly.

"Are you a musician?" He asked obviously trying to change the subject.

"No, why do you ask that?"

"The loud music."

"Those are just some of my favorite bands. They help me write when I can't think of anything."

"Ah, you're a writer. That makes sense," He said as I glared at him from across the table.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you talk a lot and you seem to always be stuck in your own head. I've seen a lot of writers and they all have those tells."

"Okay, so you figured me out. My turn."

I studied him. I've watched all his movies. I know his Star Chart. I know what college he went to. I know when he first started acting. I know what his first movie was. I know who his first girlfriend was and I know to who he lost his virginity. He's another dumb male celebrity that has nothing secret or hidden from the media.

"I've got nothing," I said as I looked into his eyes.

Because that was the truth. I looked into this man's eyes and all I saw were these gorgeous green eyes that were just staring right back at me.

"Well, since you know everything about me do you mind if I ask you something?" He asked as he ate a piece of meat off his fork.

"Go ahead."

"Why did you watch all my movies?"

"Because I wanted to figure you out and I found it interesting that I live next to Sam Claflin the actor."

"Pretty boy actor" He added as if he were correcting me.

"Right. Pretty boy actor." I said as he turned a slight shade of pink.

"Are you usually home alone? Or do you live with someone?"

"Why? Do you want to kill me, Sam Claflin?"

"No. And why do you keep using my full name?"

"Because it's throwing you off."

"Yeah, it is."

We went on to talk about what I like to write. Which is mostly mystery and murder mystery. I stray far away from romance. It's sticky and all the same.

He learned my Star Chart. What college I went to. When I first started writing. The first novel I wrote. Who my first boyfriend was and to whom I lost my virginity.

"I hope to see you again, (Y/N) (L/N)," He said as he leaned against my door frame. (He insisted on walking me to my door)

"Well, if I ever want to see you again I know to just turn my music up too loud," I said as he smiled and then I turned around and shut the door.

I leaned against it and I swear this man stood in front of my closed door for a solid minute before walking away. I wonder if he was hoping I'd open it and let him in.

If we were going to have sex, though, I'd hope it'd be in his bed because mine can barely support my own weight.

#sam claflin #Fluff #Sam Claflin x reader #Friends to lovers #sam claflin imagine

[nightingale2004]

Sherlock BBC next generation: Johnlock version

Athena Jessica Watson Holmes

Faceclaim: Emily Rudd

Athena is the biological daughter of Irene Adler and Sherlock Holmes and older twin of her brother Hamish Scott Watson Holmes

Is the oldest twin by 10 minutes and 32 seconds

She takes after Sherlock but has a bit of Irene in her

Both Athena and Hamish were left on Sherlock's doorstep shortly after they were born

Similar to Sherlock, her deduction skills are flawless (in her words)

Considers John to be her parental figure and compatible with her father than Irene

She doesn't call Irene her mother, only by her first name

Unlike Sherlock, she actually likes learning astronomy

She has a love for art, fencing, and playing violin

She secretly pickpockets the entire London police, including Greg (it's her source of entertainment every now and then)

She hates socializing and finds "normal people" very, very.......boring (her sister, John, Molly, Mrs. Hudson and Greg are the exception)

She is fiercely protective of her siblings

Mastered the art of shutting off her emotions (in her opinion)

Loves experimenting with body parts or dead bodies with Sherlock

Loves to accompany both her dads to crime scenes

She has no filter

She is an extremely quick learner

Has her own mind palace

Is very skilled in martial arts

She takes ballet and art classes (mostly to avoid boredom)

Goes to the library..........a lot

Is a chemistry and science genius

Makes fun of her uncle Mycroft (Sherlock's idea)

Secretly keeps in contact with her aunt Eurus

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hamish Scott Watson Holmes

Faceclaim: Asa Butterfield

Younger twin of Athena and youngest son of Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler

Unlike his twin, he's more sensitive than her and a little more empathetic to people.

Sherlock and John got an Irish setter for their kids and named him Redbeard

He takes after Sherlock in personality but looks like Irene with a hint of Sherlock

He is also very intelligent, like his father

He plays violin, piano and cello

He prefers to observe the crime scene from a distance

When he is in thinking mode, he becomes exactly like his sister and Sherlock

He is Molly's favorite

He knows how to shoot from a crossbow and a long bow

Hamish and Athena destroy their father at clue

He is a little slow on deductions, but he is still good.

Math genius

Extremely adventurous

He shoots arrows and darts at the wall when bored or frustrated

Hamish and his sister's visit their grandparents when they can

Both Hamish and Athena get Lestrade's name wrong every time

Both the Holmes twins correct their teachers if they something wrong in their lesson (which to them, is all the time)

Both John and Sherlock made the twins promise not to say their deductions out loud to their teachers or anyone involved in their educational journey (to avoid suspension or expulsion)

Prefer to be called high functioning sociopaths

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Rosamund "Rose/Rosie" Mary Watson Holmes

Faceclaim: Meg Donnelly

Rose is the youngest Holmes in her family and considers herself and her father the only normal and sane ones in the family

She is John and Mary's daughter and Sherlock's stepdaughter

Despite not being related by blood, Rose loves her older siblings very much

Both John and Sherlock taught all their children self defense

She inherited her dad's love for creative writing

Rose has her own blog and even makes posts on her social media about her family and their adventures

Loves reading John's stories

She is sometimes jealous of Sherlock and her older siblings and their intellect

Every time she meets a boy, Athena and Hamish make a deduction about him or chase him away

Has a love for the medical field

Hates when bullies or most people make rude comments or remarks about her family

She and John cook

Rose has a picture of her mom

♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤☆♤

+ Mrs. Hudson's grand daughter

Allison "Ally" Martha Hudson

Faceclaim: Virginia Gardner

Allison is the granddaughter of the late Mrs. Martha Hudson

After Mrs. Hudson passed away (R.i.p to the legend Una Stubbs 🙏 you will be remembered). Ally's mom inherited the famous 221b Baker Street building, and now both Ally and her mom moved to London permanently and kept the building running

Allison was originally born and raised in America, but both Ally and her mom would visit Mrs. Hudson to spend some time with her

Allison loved her grandmother very much and held her close to her heart

Loved hearing her grandmother's crazy stories

She knows the Holmes family and has babysat the twins and Rosamund whenever she came to visit over the holidays

Sherlock and John see Allison and her mom as part of their family since Mrs. Hudson was family to them and their kids

Ally feels like she's the Holmes kids' mother and big sister most of the time

Hates it when the twins shoot her wall and keep crazy stuff in the fridge

Knows how to handle a gun

She is a divorce child

Weeks after her parents divorced, she never saw her dad again, and Ally spent a month over with Mrs. Hudson

She loves getting involved with the Holmes kids and their adventures

Reminds them constantly that she is NOT THEIR HOUSEKEEPER

#sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock #sherlock fandom #sherlock bbc #sherlock holmes #sherlock & co #sherlock and co #sherlock and john #sherlock au #johnlock #john watson #irene adler #mrs hudson #johnlock child #johnlock children #sherlock next generation #sherlock bbc next gen #sherlock next gen #sherlock bbc next generation #sherlock holmes x john watson #john watson x sherlock holmes #mary watson #greg lestrade #mycroft holmes #sherlock x john #221b baker street #i am sherlocked #john hamish watson #sherlock series #parentlock

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 3) Chapter Fourteen

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter Fourteen: Infamous Blackmailer

Summary: Sherlock, John, and (Y/N) meet Magnussen. He's terrible.

            “Magnussen?” wondered John in confusion after Mycroft left. To get such a reaction out of him meant it was big. Still, John was also looking worriedly at Sherlock disheveled state and at (Y/N)’s reaction to him using again.

            He got no clarification from Sherlock, who just turned towards the kitchen. “What time is it?”

            “About eight,” said (Y/N), a little too readily, but John was confused so he didn’t notice the slip-up in the acting.

            “I’m meeting him in three hours. I need a bath,” said Sherlock decidedly.

            “It’s for a case, you said?” John probed again, still glaring disapprovingly at Sherlock. “What about (Y/N)?”

            “Please don’t bring me into it,” said (Y/N) quietly, playing up their desire to remain to the side.

            “Sorry,” said John apologetically.

            “It is for a case.” Not a lie, necessarily, on Sherlock’s part. All this acting was for a case.

            “What sort of case?” asked John.

            “Too big and dangerous for any sane individual to get involved in,” said Sherlock.

            Luckily, neither of us are sane, thought (Y/N).

            “You trying to put me off?” said John.

            “God, no. I’m trying to recruit you,” said Sherlock. He walked into the bathroom. “And stay out of my bedroom!”

            As if I’d go in. (Y/N) avoided Janine as much as possible.

            On cue, the bedroom door opened, and Janine walked out wearing one of Sherlock’s shirts. “Oh, John, hi.” She glanced at (Y/N). “(Y/N).”

            The teenager knew that look. It was the “you’re strange but I’m just going to pretend you’re like a pet or something so I can ignore you” that Janine adopted whenever she was around. She had originally tried to impress Sherlock by getting along with (Y/N), but as much as (Y/N) could hold back from scaring Janine off, they still came off as “weird.” (Neurodivergence was a real hit with people).

            Janine thought they should have more age-appropriate interests and be more expressive, so when they weren’t, she just gave up on trying to get along since they were obviously “defective” in some way.

            ((Y/N) had just rolled their eyes in private after a particularly rude comment, but Sherlock had been really tempted to call off the case so he could plot to destroy Janine’s life. Luckily, he had the sense to continue, and (Y/N) just tuned her out)

            “Where’s Sherlock?” asked Janine, again addressing John.

            “Um, he’s just having a bath. I’m sure he’ll be out in a minute,” said John, surprised and uncomfortable.

            “Pity, I have to head to work,” sighed Janine. She crossed her arms and headed back into the bedroom to change.

            John looked at (Y/N). “When did that start?”

            “A week ago,” said (Y/N).

            “And the using?” asked John.

            (Y/N) pulled the end of their sweater. “I guess.”

            “What the hell is going on with him?” murmured John.

            (Y/N) shrugged and pretended to look uncomfortable and in thought to avoid more questions.

            The door of the bedroom opened again, and Janine walked out, fully dressed. “Tell Sherly I send kisses,” she said, prancing out the door happily.

            “She does not seem like Sherlock’s type,” said John.

            “She’s not, but he’s not himself right now,” said (Y/N), crossing their arms.

            John nodded grimly. He looked around and sighed. “How about some food? If a dangerous man is coming, we might as well be fed if nothing else.”

            (Y/N) nodded. “Alright.”

l

            Three hours had nearly passed, and Sherlock walked back into the room, cleaned up and ready to face Magnussen.

            “Are you actually going to explain what this is about or at least who Magnussen is?” asked John, crossing his arms. “He’s a newspaper owner, but you’re taking a case with him and Mycroft has him under protection?”

            “You know Magnussen as a paper own, but he’s so much more than that. He uses his power and wealth to gain information. The more he acquires, the greater his wealth and power. I’m not exaggerating when I say that he knows the critical pressure point on every person of note or influence in the whole of the Western world and probably beyond. He is the king of black mail, and he has created an unassailable architecture of forbidden knowledge. Its name is Appledore,” said Sherlock.

            (Y/N) shifted uneasily. Magnussen was like Moriarty, equal in ruthlessness and information. They weren’t looking forward to meeting him, not after the cost of defeating Moriarty had been so great.

            Sherlock had identical thoughts and knew he was going to keep (Y/N) close during the entire encounter. He wouldn’t let Magnussen get near to his kid.

            Silence. “Dinner,” said John.

            “Huh?” (Y/N) tilted their head.

            “Me and Mary, coming for dinner…with…sitting…” John trailed off.

            “Seriously? I’ve just told you that the Western world is run by Magnussen from his home, and you want to talk about dinner?” said Sherlock, bewildered. He shook his head and continued. “It is the greatest repository of sensitive and dangerous information anywhere in the world—the Alexandrian Library of secrets and scandals, and none of it is one a computer. He’s smart; computers can be hacked. It’s all on a hard copy in vaults underneath the house, and as long as it is, the personal freedom of anyone you’ve met is a fantasy.”

            (Y/N) had to keep up the façade of being out of Sherlock’s loop, but they had a few things they wanted to say. First, hard copies could still be destroyed, and houses weren’t invincible, right? Second, it would take quite a memory to remember where all blackmail evidence was, and if he had such memory, he could probably remember it in a Mind Palace or something similar since knowledge of someone’s misdeeds was as dangerous to them as the proof. People were too skittish and stupid to think clearly when it came to their own wrongdoings being exposed.

            However, (Y/N)’s train of thought was interrupted as Mrs. Hudson opened the door and frowned. “The doorbell keeps ringing. Can’t you hear it?”

            Sherlock didn’t answer, and John rolled his eyes.

            “Who is it?” he asked.

            “A few security guards,” replied Mrs. Hudson.

            Magnussen had arrived. He wasn’t supposed to have come there, but (Y/N) and Sherlock weren’t unsurprised that he was trying to catch them off-guard.

            The guards were let into the flat and walked up to the inhabitants of the room. It was no secret that they were going to be searched, so (Y/N) just sighed and held out their arms.

            “Oh, go ahead,” said Sherlock, rolling his eyes and holding up his arms.

            The pair were frisked, and the last guard walked up to John.

            He coughed. “Can I have a moment?” The guard didn’t say anything and just started feeling his jacket. “Er, right, I should probably tell you—” John looked awkward as a knife was pulled out of his jacket. “Okay, I, that—” The man felt down his legs and pulled out a tire iron. Everyone stared at him, and he laughed nervously. “Doesn’t mean I’m not pleased to see you.”

            Steps echoed up the stairs, and (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed slightly as a man reached the landing.

            “We can vouch for him. He’s a doctor. If you know who we are then you know who he is—” Sherlock’s eyes went to the door as a man opened it and walked in “—don’t you, Mr. Magnussen?” Sherlock regarded him carefully. “I understood we were meeting in your office.”

            “This is my office,” said Magnussen, eyes scanning each person in the room and cataloguing everything he knew about them. “Well, it is now.”

            He sat down on the couch, and (Y/N) was aware that he was intentionally taking their spot to disconcert them. They refused to react and just stood beside Sherlock as he sat down in his chair. Magnussen opened up the newspaper. (Y/N) cocked their head. He wasn’t really moving his eyes over the newspaper. It was another show. It made (Y/N) furrow their brow. They had no idea what Magnussen was up to, but they didn’t like it.

            “Mr. Magnussen, I have been asked to intercede with you by Lady Elizabeth Smallwood on the matter of her husband’s letters,” said Sherlock. “Some time ago, you put…pressure on her concerning those letters. She would like them back. Obviously, the letters no longer have any practical use to you, so with that in mind—” Sherlock raised an eyebrow as Magnussen stared at him. “Something I said?”

            “No, no, I was reading. There’s rather a lot.” Magnussen was perfectly composed. “Redbeard.”

            Sherlock furrowed his brow and quieted. It was like the word had short-circuited something in his brain, and it was all he could focus on. “I-Uh…”

            “Bathroom?” called Magnussen over his shoulder to his men.

            “Along from the kitchen, sir,” reported one.

            “Okay,” said Magnussen.

            “These are sensitive documents—” tried Sherlock again.

            “Is it like the rest of the flat?” asked Magnussen, looking around at the messy flat.

            “Sir?” said his guard.

            “The bathroom,” repeated Magnussen.

            “Er, yes, sir.”

            “Maybe not, then,” said Magnussen.

            Annoyed at Magnussen for intentionally bringing up something (though they didn’t understand what) to disturb Sherlock and frustrated with his general attitude, (Y/N) spoke. “The letters. Lady Smallwood wants them back.” Straight to the point.

            Magnussen looked up at them from the couch. “Ah, Mx. Moriarty.”

            Sherlock’s eyes focused and narrowed, and John sucked in a gasp. (Y/N)’s lungs constricted at being called “Moriarty.” Magnussen was pleased with the reaction, and the split-second it took for them to register his satisfaction, (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed. They were not letting him think he was in charge of everything.

            “If you’re as knowledgeable as they say, you’d know my birth certificate doesn’t say that name. But, then again, you don’t really care about that,” remarked (Y/N).

            “Well, that court case two years ago was quite something. It revealed oh-so-much,” said Magnussen, not letting up either. “The whole world knows you’re (Y/N) Moriarty.”

            “ ‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,’ ” said (Y/N). They raised their head, and the glint in their eyes when they knew they had perfect control of themself returned. “The words you decide to use for you don’t change who I am.”

            Magnussen didn’t respond, and Sherlock watched closely as he got up and crossed to the fireplace. Sherlock had been in shock and startled by his remarks, but he wouldn’t let himself be affected again. After all, he couldn’t let Magnussen get close to (Y/N). He just couldn’t.

            Magnussen unzipped his trousers and peed into the fireplace. Everyone looked away in disgust and knew it was another tactic to keep everyone uncomfortable.

            “Best thing about the English: you’re so domesticated,” said Magnussen. “All standing around, apologizing, keeping your little heads down. You can do what you like here; no one’s ever going to stop you.” He finished, and his guard handed him a wet-wipe to clean. “Moriarty was such a fun one. He knew he could do whatever he wanted, so he did.” He glanced at (Y/N). “I’m so glad his spirit lives on.”

            (Y/N) refused to show that they despised being compared to Moriarty, despite knowing that their…craftiness at times was quite similar. (Y/N) wouldn’t give Magnussen the satisfaction of a reaction.

            “A nation of herbivores, that’s what most of the population is here,” continued Magnussen, walking towards the door. “I’ve interest all over the world, but everything starts in England. If it works here, I’ll try it in a real country.” He glanced back. “The United Kingdom, huh? Petri dish to the Western world. Tell Lady Elizabeth I might need those letters, so I’m keeping them. Goodbye.” He pulled a small packet out of his jacket. “Besides, they’re funny.” He pushed them back in and walked out.

            Sherlock, John, and (Y/N) were silent as he left.

            “Jesus,” muttered John finally.

            (Y/N) crossed their arms. They really didn’t like Magnussen. He gave them the same uncomfortable feeling that Moriarty did, though slightly less disconcerting. He was clearly still dangerous, though, so (Y/N) wouldn’t stop being careful.

            “He showed us a package that might have the letters,” they said, deciding to focus on the case so they could get their dealings with that man over with.

            Sherlock steepled his fingers. “So, he’s brought the letters to London so no matter what he says, he’s ready to make a deal.”

            “If those were the letters. He seems to enjoy making fun of people,” said (Y/N).

            “Magnussen only makes a deal once he’s established a person’s weakness—the ‘pressure point,’ as he calls it,” continued Sherlock. “So, clearly, he believes I’m a drug addict and no serious threat.” He had done his best to make that his weakness, his flaw. Unfortunately, it was clear Magnussen could also see (Y/N) was a weakness of Sherlock’s. There was no hiding that, however. “And, of course, because he’s in town tonight, the letter will be in his safe in his London office while he’s out to dinner with the Marketing Group of Great Britain from seven til ten.”

            “How-How do you know his schedule?” asked John.

            “It’s my dad,” said (Y/N) matter-of-factly.

            “I’ll see you tonight, John,” said Sherlock. “I have some shopping to do. (Y/N)?”

            “Coming,” said (Y/N).

            “Wait, but Sherlock, you’re still in trouble for earlier—”

            “I’ll text instructions,” said Sherlock, heading towards the door. “Don’t bring a gun. Or a knife. Or a tire iron.”

            “Probably shouldn’t sprain any arms tonight,” said (Y/N). “But we’ll see.”

            “You’re just assuming we’ll come along?” said John. “Sherlock, you were on drugs earlier.”

            “He’s trying to form a weakness for Magnussen,” said (Y/N). “I can…understand that.”

            “And you, John, have put seven pounds on since you got married, and the cycling isn’t doing it,” said Sherlock. “You need to get out of the house.”

            “It’s actually four pounds,” grumbled John.

            “The three of us think seven,” said Sherlock, and (Y/N) nodded.

            The door shut behind them, and John was left wondering what the hell was going on with the Holmeses these days.

Taglist:

@stilesstilinskiforlife-blog

@im-making-an-effort

@ilse235

@schrodingers-intelligence

@awsedrftgyhujikol

@lxserthxngzzz

@forever1313

@mentallyunstablemanlover

#a study of the heart and brain #x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #x nb reader #nb reader #x teen!reader #x teen reader #sherlock x teen reader #sherlock x teen!reader #teen reader #teen!reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock fanfic #sherlock & co #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #father figure #found family trope #found family #platonic #platonic x reader

[malereader-inserts]

Atlantis

Fandom: Sherlock BBC Pairing: Sherlock Holmes & Brother!Reader & Mycroft Holmes Summary: We built this town on shaky ground Word Count: 698

"I can't save us."

You stared at your brothers and John, the words echo the chamber that you were stuck in. You wanted to laugh, you wanted to cry and yet you were so numb to everything. Your eyes flickered to the television, swallowing your pride as you stood straight.

Sherlock gripped the gun tighter, looking at his options before him.

His best friend, the only one who truly loved him whether it was in a family way or something more profound, was the only stranger who loved him. Molly's love was nothing like John's. There was something different about the ex-solider, and perhaps deep within himself, he wanted to explore that unknown.

He glances over to his older brother, Mycroft did look pathetic. Sherlock would smirk at the fact, but he couldn't.In the back of his mind, he knows Mycroft would do anything for him if he were to utter such words to him. And Sherlock couldn't shake off the look of absolute fear in his brother's eyes, he knew he would feel guilty if he were to kill him.

Then, there was you. Sherlock would love to absolutely hate you, but he couldn't. You were his brother after all. The sane Holmes, the one that was the heart and soul of the family. He knows how Mycroft feels when he looks at you because all he wants to do is make the world a better place for you to thrive.

Though, as he glances at all three of you before him. John and Mycroft show fear, but you, there was nothing. Almost as if you had just shut your feeling off. Sherlock cannot compute why you weren't showing feelings, was it to make it easier for him?

"You can't save everyone, Sherlock," You softly hummed out, his eyes never leaving you, "The world wasn't made for me, we know that."

"You're my baby brother," Sherlock reasons, but you give him a gentle smile.

"I-"

"Sherlock, do not," Mycroft warned, his eyes threatening, "Not to him, not our baby brother."

"It's okay, Myc," You gently tell him, "I trust Sherlock, and I wasn't built for this world."

Sherlock wants to hate you, your words hurt him, you give him a loo. But, at that moment, Sherlock cannot comprehend what you're trying to tell him through your eyes.

"Remember when I was younger and I wanted you to play Atlantis? We were adventurers hoping to find the lost city," you chuckled at the memory of your very much older brothers playing with their ten-year-old brother, "Atlantis was never supposed to be found, it wasn't meant for this world, like me. And," you looked at your brothers, "And, I'm okay with that."

"Sherlock, please don't."

Sherlock lifted the gun shakily, ignoring his brother's pleads as you give him one last smile. John didn't know what to do, was he supposed to fight you on this subject, say that he wasn't significant at all. John looked hopelessly, knowing that whatever argument he started he will never win them.

"I'm happy with the life you've given me."

All three of them flinched from the echoing bang of the gun, three men refusing to look where you once stood. Mycroft's lips tremble as his eyes fixate on the floor, the white pristine floor, now he can see the pool of blood. He wants to throw up, he has never been good with gore-y stuff but knowing it's your blood, he wants to shut his eyes forever.

Sherlock dropped the gun, he was disgusted with himself. Why did he do that?

"I'm sorry Mycroft," He says, for once he meant it, "Tell me why this has to end like this?"

Mycroft had nothing to say, sparing a glance at your body, he noticed that Sherlock was merciful, aiming for the heart so that you were to have a quick death, he hopes that you hadn't felt much pain.

"I don't know brother."

Sherlock couldn't save all of you.

Mycroft wished he protected you.

You can't take back the words you said, you can't change what happened.

You hoped, just a mere second before your death, that your brothers will never blame themselves.

#sherlock bbc imagine #sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock #sherlock and mycroft imagine #sherlock holmes x male reader #mycroft x male reader #mycroft imagine #mycroft holmes imagine #platonic #angst #x male reader

[pikminenjoyer]

I finished Sense and Sensibility and it was great! Lost a few points due to me not liking Edward that much but I'll get over it.

This means its time for another round of CHOOSE MY NEXT READ!!!

This time, with propaganda included!

The Bell Jar - The Bell Jar chronicles the crack-up of Esther Greenwood: brilliant, beautiful, enormously talented, and successful, but slowly going under—maybe for the last time. Sylvia Plath masterfully draws the reader into Esther's breakdown with such intensity that Esther's insanity becomes completely real and even rational, as probable and accessible an experience as going to the movies

Anxious people - Viewing an apartment normally doesn’t turn into a life-or-death situation, but this particular open house becomes just that when a failed bank robber bursts in and takes everyone in the apartment hostage. As the pressure mounts, the eight strangers begin slowly opening up to one another and reveal long-hidden truths.

Catch-22 - Set in Italy during World War II, this is the story of the incomparable, malingering bombardier, Yossarian, a hero who is furious because thousands of people he has never met are trying to kill him. But his real problem is not the enemy—it is his own army, which keeps increasing the number of missions the men must fly to complete their service. Yet if Yossarian makes any attempt to excuse himself from the perilous missions he’s assigned, he’ll be in violation of Catch-22, a hilariously sinister bureaucratic rule: a man is considered insane if he willingly continues to fly dangerous combat missions, but if he makes a formal request to be removed from duty, he is proven sane and therefore ineligible to be relieved.

Rosemary's Baby - Suppose you were an up-to-date young wife who moved into an old and elegant New York apartment house with a rather strange past. Suppose that only after you became pregnant did you begin to suspect the building harbored a diabolically evil group of devil worshippers who had mastered the arts of black magic and witchcraft. Suppose that this satanic conspiracy set out to claim not only your husband but your baby.

Well, that's what happened to Rosemary... Or did it...?

Too Like the Lightning - Mycroft Canner is a convict. For his crimes he is required, as is the custom of the 25th century, to wander the world being as useful as he can to all he meets. Carlyle Foster is a sensayer--a spiritual counselor in a world that has outlawed the public practice of religion, but which also knows that the inner lives of humans cannot be wished away.

Daughter of the Moon Goddess - Growing up on the moon, Xingyin is accustomed to solitude, unaware that she is being hidden from the feared Celestial Emperor who exiled her mother for stealing his elixir of immortality. But when Xingyin’s magic flares and her existence is discovered, she is forced to flee her home, leaving her mother behind.

Alone, powerless, and afraid, she makes her way to the Celestial Kingdom, a land of wonder and secrets. Disguising her identity, she seizes an opportunity to learn alongside the emperor's son, mastering archery and magic, even as passion flames between her and the prince.

To save her mother, Xingyin embarks on a perilous quest, confronting legendary creatures and vicious enemies across the earth and skies. But when treachery looms and forbidden magic threatens the kingdom, she must challenge the ruthless Celestial Emperor for her dream—striking a dangerous bargain in which she is torn between losing all she loves or plunging the realm into chaos

#anti booktok #booklr #poll #my next read #rosemary's baby #the bell jar #too like the lightning #daughter of the moon goddess #dotmg #anxious people #catch 22 #booktok #books #book time

[sherlock-meta-collection]

SHERLOCK S5 IS ALREADY OUT!

I don’t have time to explain everything right now, and I don’t think you guys want me to, because that’s half the fun.

Season 5 of Sherlock hasn’t been released in the way that we were all expecting, the usual three episode run with Ben and Martin, but if you’ll let me explain, you’ll see it’s something even cooler.

I know we have all been sitting here losing hope that S5 will ever come out. But a few of us obsessives are still here kicking around with meta, hoping to find some clue or cipher that will finally make sense of all the symbolism and strange coincidences that just don’t make any sense in Sherlock.

Well, I have the cipher for you guys, watch The Devil’s Hour.

When you do it, pretend as if you are Lucy and Moffat is speaking to you through Peter Capaldi’s character, Gideon Shepard. I’ve pieced together the conversation over two episodes from transcripts. This isn’t the complete story, just a teaser to get you to see for yourself.

A Conversation between You and Steven Moffat

Gideon Shepard [Moffat]: The things I'm gonna tell you tonight... are going to sound unlikely. I'd like very much for you to listen and then I want you to lie to me, I want you to tell me, convince me that you don't believe me.

Lucy [You]: Why?

Gideon Shepard [Moffat]: If he thinks you believe what I'm about to tell you, he'll decide that you're unstable. If you say you don't believe me, he can't prove that you're lying. Look at me, look. He can't prove that you're crazy.

Lucy [You]: But what if I am? Crazy? ....

Gideon Shepard [Moffat]: You're not crazy. You must never think that. I know it's hard. I know that everything seems irrational. Impossible. But you're completely sane. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. ...

Gideon Shepard [Moffat]: I can help you understand.

Lucy [You]: You're just playing games.

Gideon Shepard [Moffat]: No, this is not a game. What we're doing here is more important than you know.

Lucy [You]: What I know is they're gonna lock you away. And we are never gonna speak again.

Gideon Shepard [Moffat]: Please don't do this. What about your son? Isaac [Sherlock]. That's why you're here. You still have questions. I can help you answer them.

... Gideon Shepard [Moffat]: I can't imagine how you must have felt. I'm sorry, I'm sorry that you had to go through it.

Lucy [You]: Shut up!

Gideon Shepard [Moffat]: All right.

Lucy [You]: Just tell me why.

Gideon Shepard [Moffat]: 'Cause it's, it's, it's not... it's not what you think.

The Devil’s Hour is teaching you how exactly to understand the world and mind of Steven Moffat and how he thinks about symbols and stories. He is also explaining to you his larger plan for the Sherlock stories.

All the things we have been discussing over the past 5-6 years are completely spot on, but we didn’t have quite enough information or hope that what we were talking about was true. I’m not just referring to Johnlock in this case (which is part of the story for sure), but a much larger story going on beneath the surface narrative. It involves Mycroft and “Moriarty” largely in a way that some have already discussed with M Theory and The Game Theory. But it’s even bigger than that, and even more exciting.

Season 5 of Sherlock hasn’t been released in the way that we were all expecting, but Season 5 of Sherlock is being released RIGHT NOW and it has been going on since at least Dracula. Start with the media that Hartswood Films have produced following S4 and you’ll see.

The big important ones for S5 alone are Dracula, it starts out by explaining what happened to Sherlock after he jumped from Bart’s and goes up until the present day.

Then comes Inside Man, it is hard to explain why, but this is Mycroft’s “confession” to Sherlock. Sherlock is Jefferson Grieff and Mycroft is the vicar character Harry Wattling. The show is so bullshit and eye rolling, because we are hearing the story from the perspective of the criminal, of course nothing makes sense, because they are lying to make themselves look good.

Finally comes The Devil’s Hour, which tells you not to give up and makes the symbolism and message clear as to what Moffat is trying to accomplish.

I think the story actually started with Jekyll. All of these stories are actually telling one great story, inside what is essentially Steven Moffat’s marvel universe!! He is being Alan Moore and playing with all the Victorian superheros (in addition to Doctor Who), just in a slightly different way. Instead of telling one story where all the characters are in the same world together, you tell one story which takes place across the different worlds of the characters.

He has been teasing us about it for a long time with Doctor Who and Sherlock crossover references. Well, those weren’t references my friends, THAT’S THE SHOW.

I only realized all of this after watching The Devil’s Hour a few days ago, so I don’t have all the details to prove it. For now, it all sounds like crazy nonsense, but if you are still here reading, you must be convinced at some level. Give me a chance. We really weren’t crazy after all guys, just didn’t quite get as far as we needed to go.

#Sherlock #BBC Sherlock #sherlock s5 #sherlock meta #inside man #the devils hour #steven moffat #mark gatiss #doctor who #my meta

[feralremains]

Tag nine people you want to get to know better

Thank you @the-toad-in-your-piano for the tag!

Three ships

Hm, I will tell about my most recent one, the one I've written the most about, and the one that got me into writing fanfic and making fanart.

The latest: Nygmobblepot! Edward Nygma/Oswald Cobblepot from Gotham. Well, what can I say? Sad, mentally ill and murderous men, what's not to like? They have an interesting relationship, and I like to see it being explored more in many different forms.

The one I've written the most: Willton, Frederick Chilton/Will Graham from Hannibal. Even though this is the ship with the highest amount of words by me, it's still only somewhere between 5,000 and 10,000 words. I'm a beginner, but hopefully getting better all the time! I admit, this one isn't very popular. I like NBC Hannibal's Chilton as a character a lot, and I personally think he needs some other character to develop himself. Will gives us contrast, with his cool calculations and violent mind compared to Frederick's neuroses and anxieties.

The beginning: Good old Mystrade. Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade from BBC Sherlock. I'm a sucker for emotionally suppressed middle-aged men. I suppose I could explore my own experiences through them - anxiety, depression, self esteem issues. Older queer people have always made me hopeful, and even though it really isn't the same, sometimes fictional characters work as a substitute.

First ever ship

Huh, I am not absolutely sure, but I guess this would be Johnlock. I remember seeing one of the older Sherlock Holmes films when I was younger, The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes, 1970, and Holmes implying Watson and he were lovers felt surreal, almost. This one was an old film for a young kid such as myself, and there they were, queer, and it wasn't only a joke, we were not only portrayed as comic relief. Obviously it was somewhat humorous (Holmes trying to avoid fathering a child for Madame Petrova), but they didn't make it seem like queer people were lesser. In a way, I felt understood - that's what not having obvious actual queer representation causes - and it stayed in the back of my mind for a long time.

Now, thinking about the ships I've now told about, I realise I (often along with other people) have headcanoned one person of the pair as asexual, even though I've only known I'm ace myself for a very short time, comparatively.

Last song

I've been listening to Hannibal the Musical and Possibly in Michigan (Animal Cannibal). Completely normal and sane songs to listen to, I can assure you.

Last movie

I watched The Lady in the Van with my parents last night. It was quite amusing, both light-hearted and serious at the same time. Before that, The Batman (2022), which I didn't like as much as some of the other Batman films, but it was quite decent.

Currently reading

Haha, I'm not currently reading anything, really. The last actual book I read was the Shining by Stephen King some weeks ago. It was much better than the film, which I watched right after, although not scary at all.

Currently watching

Gotham (2014-2019). Finding television series that can keep me watching is not the easiest task, I guess. Usually I only like a few characters, and try to resist the urge to only see their scenes as long as I can.

Currently consuming

Well, I should be getting an evening snack, but I'm writing this. Going to get an apple and some mango gurt with rice cereal.

Currently craving

This is a bit in the TMI territory, but the ability to feel strong emotions, and for once not anxiety. I feel very empty most of the time. Fortunately I have Petunia the blue tongue skink. I also would like to learn Swedish and get even more herps.

Tagging (no pressure to actually do this! Also, with my luck, everyone I tag has already participated in this, but no harm done anyways. I have literally never interacted with some of you, and never in a personal manner with any of you, but let's ignore that for a moment, or otherwise I could never participate in these)

@nygmobblepot-trash @arabriddler @shyjusticewarrior @cliobii @evansdoodles @super-who-locked-me-in-here @barbacarisi @the-chilton @no1raulesparzafan

#haha now I'll forget I never this did or I'll be very anxious haha #hahaha... ha #anyway thanks for tagging me #made me very happy

[tex-treasure-chamber]

Drew this a while back for my friend Cookies- it's of invs OC, Aurian, alongside my eldest bröther, Mycroft :>!

A gorgeously well put together info post about Aurian can be found here at Cookies' sideblog @goldfish-notepad that he made just for Aurian, the post of which also includes their very own lovely art of Aurian, Mycroft, Anthea, and!!! also Tex ;--; I'm very honored to be included, thank you so much Cookies ;--; ✨️🤍!!!!!

#tex draws #here is the post for you Cookies :>!!! thank you again sm for letting me link to your blog ♡!!! #i have it so nobody else can rb it but u ♡ #the sane one • mycroft #also i kfkfof i just realized they're a bit older than Tex bc xe was born in like '83 in my time-line jfjfkft x> #sherlock and jim were born in like 76 iirc so oigufhf they're older than them too :o! #madness is silver but normalcy is golden • aurian

[terrorcaptain]

@governmentofficial continued from X

Happiness was a strange concept. Mycroft was aware of its existence, but he was also aware that any relationship with it that he had was often fleeting. While he was often a content man, he was not a happy one. Happiness as a standard, he felt, was simply not something that he could achieve - chasing it would get in the way of his efficiency at work, thus he had to wait for it to come along naturally (and it went without saying that such a thing rarely occurred).

Francis made him happy, though. The frequency at which Mycroft smiled had certainly gone up since meeting the other man - even more so since he had returned from the supposed dead. It was nice. He didn't regret it at all.

Considering that, he felt a little upset a the suggestion that Francis did not want to be happy because, in Mycroft's eyes, that implied that he did not want to spend time with him. After all, if the other man made him happy, then why would the same not be true in reverse?

"What do you want then?" Mycroft asked, a frown on his lips. It was not his typical frown, but rather one that was accompanied by a rare look of betrayal. "Because if it is not some kind of happiness, I do not understand what you are doing spending time with me."

Francis was more than prone to misery, the man seemed to radiate it at time and on occasion it bubbled up to the surface so completely that he did not watch what he was saying. It took that rare look of betrayal before he registered what it might have sounded like to Mycroft. That man was the one thing in his returned life that kept him sane. 

“Why would I not want to spend time with you? I know I can be happy, miserable, angry or anything in your presence and you will either set me straight or be just about able to tolerate it.” He attempted as a means to reassure him, Francis was simply not feeling happy that day through no fault of Mycroft’s. It was not fair on Mycroft to have to endure such moods but that he supposed was part of the package that came from being with him, difficulties. 

“I simply don’t want to be happy right at this moment.” Another attempt to explain it to Mycroft but he felt like he was failing terribly, “Not because of you, if anything I am just comfortable being able to feel things around you. I don’t have to pretend to be anything I am not.” Not a Captain who believed people could walk out of the Arctic alive, not an Irishman pretending that the repression of his talents due to his nationality weighed upon him, he could just be. 

It did worry him that he was pushing Mycroft away, as was habit, to deal with whatever he was going through on his own and curse anyone that was trying to help. “You do make me happy, Mycroft, but sometimes I simply need to be miserable and intolerable.” 

#governmentofficial

[ojirocardigansniper]

ok i should maybe know this but ia m desperate. for confirmation of who mycroft is. cuz there's only one i know of

HELP I WAS JUST THINKING I SHOULD FAQ THIS BECAUSE I DONT FUCKING WANT PEOPLE TO THINK IM A SHERLOCK HOLMES DICKHEAD BACKGROUND CHARACTER ENJOYER . The mycroft living in my tags is Mycroft Canner, the protagonist, narrator, and god awful pathetic wet beast of my heart from Ada Palmer's insanely good book series Terra Ignota. literally the guy of all fucking time to me. the rise of the poor little meow meow (original "dubiously sane and markedly violent" flavor) singlehandedly gave me infinite posts to tag him as. terra ignota enjoyers will see a pathetic wet beast type post and ask "is anyone going to tag this as mycroft?" and not even wait for an answer. and then all their mutuals will prev them ❤️ ANYWAY LOVE TO HEAR FROM U MWAH

#asks #fwiends <3 #mycroft #Probably worth putting this in his tag yeah

[oxalisvulcanicola]

Tedlock!

I don't know how it started, but I've ended up making some sort of mashup of Sherlock and Father Ted and it doesn't feel all that forced in most cases.

Sherlock - Father Dougal + Father Jack On the one hand a child in a grown man's body who struggles with simple concepts and finds it hard to understand that "nuns are people too". On the other hand an easily bored (he didn't even have the patience to keep a brick for a pet) addict prone to outbursts and with a disregard for his fellow human beings.

John - Father Ted The relatively sane but flawed human who looks after his friends.

Mrs Hudson - Mrs Doyle One is not a housekeeper while the other is. Both are very into serving tea but only one falls down trying to clean the windows.

Mycroft - Bishop Brennan When he stops by you hide all the suspicious objects and pretend to be a law abiding and upright citizen. He also likes putting you to work and it's never things you like to do.

Molly - Father Larry Duff They are defined by their constant misfortune.

Lestrade - Sergeant Hodgkins Both are simple men who are eager to launch the copters.

Moriarty - Father Noel Furlong If you see him you know what I mean.

Eurus - Father Fintan Stack They lack empathy and are habitually cruel, but they do love music.

[elizadoolittlethings]

Mycroft Holmes - The Sane One?

#meta: mycroft holmes #mycroft holmes #the sane one? #all things MG

[frost-queen]

Outmatched //Part 3 (Reader!Holmes x Anthony Bridgerton)

Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @theletterhart, @alex–awesome–22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @automaticbakeryfreakshoe, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @october-leaves, @kazbekkarluvbot, @freyathehuntress, @kneelforloki​, @mamaj-right​, @queensgirl718​, @abaker74 

Summary: With a duel at hand, who will fall or stand? Will your hopes rise or crumble beneath deception? 

Read part 1  & part 2 & part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 8 & part 9 & part 10

“Benedict!” – Roared Anthony out, storming through the hallway. His hands bald into fists, stomped he furiously around. – “Benedict!” – shouted he again, louder for his voice to reach the upper level. When no answer came, rushed he up the stairs, skipping a few in the process. Huffing and puffing deep, made he haste to Benedicts chamber. Benedict startled at the sight of his brother barging into his room. – “Anthony?” – said he confused, lowering his paintbrush. – “Stop at once!” – called Anthony out, reaching Benedict within seconds. Benedict had staggered back from his painting; sensing Anthony was not in a great mood. – “I..I… did something happen?” – questioned he carefully, launching for his painting. 

He came standing before it, shielding it from his wrath. – “I need you to be my second in command.” – Benedict dropped his paintbrush in shock. – “Don’t tell me you did it again?” – Anthony ignored the judging eyes of his brother, pacing around the room. – “I had too!” – Called he out, throwing his hand in the air. Benedict took a deep sigh. – “Anthony please, there are better ways to handle this.” – Suggested he, even though he would not listen. – “Will you or will you not be my second in command?” – asked Anthony again, standing inches away from Benedict. Benedict exhaled soft, nodding slowly. – “I shall brother.” – Anthony took a step back. – “Tomorrow at dawn, we duel!”

“Your mad!” – stated Sherlock. He still couldn’t believe the ridiculous outcome that had shown itself before his very eyes. – “I am perfectly sane.” – responded Mycroft with a sneer. He stood with his back towards Sherlock, staring deep into his father’s old chest. Sherlock knew perfectly well what that chest beheld. Not jewels or documents but weapons. Pistols. Mycroft took one out, admiring it in all directions. – “You must know this is madness, Mycroft!” – Mycroft laughed once, turning slightly to his younger brother. – “This is honor!” – corrected Mycroft him. – “Honor I must keep up for our dear family name.” – continued Mycroft, aiming the pistol forwards. He closed one eye, seeing how well he could focus on his target with it. 

Sherlock shook his head in agony, frustrated about his brother’s deranged mind. – “Besides, it was not my idea.” – chuckled he out, bringing the pistol closer to him to observe it’s details. – “Now.” – started he, rubbing some dirt off the side. With one look upwards knew Sherlock what we was about to ask. – “Do I have your support, second in command?” – added he with a smile. Sherlock shook his head breathlessly. – “I will not stand for this. I won’t.” – he stumbled backwards, keeping his distant from his insane brother. Mycroft shrugged his shoulders. Perhaps he had known the outcome but tried anyway. – “Lord Pemberly will stand for my second.” – stated he, placing the pistol away.

“If you would just…” – began Sherlock, moving forwards again. – “No!” – cut Mycroft him off. His finger pointed stern at him. – “She will marry him!” – roared he out. – “What if you lose! Have you even thought about that?” – Mycroft puffed with a sign of mockery. – “I never miss.” – laughed he out, resting his hand on the pistol. – “What if you do? Or what if Bridgerton is faster? Has it ever occurred to you what it might do to our dear sister?” – Mycroft curled his upper lip up at the mention of you. – “Either she loses her brother or him.” – Sherlock gave him the ultimatum. – “Then I shall make sure it is he who loses.”

The sun set and slowly began upwards. The early morning rising. Nothing was yet awake, but a few early birds. No noblemen at least at this hour. The sky was a canvas of blended colors, trying to take shape. One color slowly consuming the other to overpower it. The meadow was damp and moist from last nights sudden rain. It made once boots sink a bit through the ground when walking through. The horses that were strapped around a branch, neighed loud. Their foggy breath drifting away on the vague fog lingering just above the grass. – “Anthony are you sure about this?” – begged Benedict again, seeing Mycroft Holmes and his second not far from them. – “I am!” – grunted he, walking firmly over to them. Anthony imagined to see Sherlock at his side, but when it was instead Lord Pemberly by Holmes side, froze he. 

Breaking his firm pace with shock that overtook him. It did not occur to him that he would stand face to face with Lord Pemberly. The ignorant lord your brother wishes so desperately for you to marry. – “Ah! Bridgerton.” – said Mycroft, turning towards him. With a quick swallow, regained Anthony his firm pace. Benedict slightly behind him. – “Holmes!” – mumbled he out. Lord Pemberly came standing beside Mycroft, grinning. – “I find it very charming you wish to duel in my honor, My lord.” – Lord Pemberly brought his hand to his heart, bowing. Anthony clenched his jaw. He even repulsed him in close contact. Not wanting to give his comment much thought, reminded Anthony everyone about the prize. – “If I win, Lord Pemberly.” – he couldn’t help himself but spit the name out with a soft glare. – “Shall take his leave forever. Never to lay a hand on Lady Y/n ever again!”

Lord Pemberly stroke the stubbles on his cheek with a smirk. Mycroft hummed intriguing. – “If I win!” – he paused for a moment to laugh. – “Then nothing changes. You shall be death and I the victor of this duel.” – Mycroft took a step closer to Anthony, crunching some hard grass underneath his booth. – “Whatever the outcome, it would not change anything.” – Benedict grabbed onto Anthony’s shoulder before he could launch himself at Mycroft. Sure it was a duel, but he wouldn’t mind throwing a few punches. – “Ten paces!” – called Lord Pemberly out, pulling out Mycroft’s pistol. He carefully placed it in his hand. Benedict hesitantly placed the pistol in his brothers hand. – “I hope you know what you are doing…” – whispered he, before taking steps back with his head down. Lord Pemberly stepped aside as well, leaving the men to expand their brutal plans in their heads. Mentally crushing the other one as they thought themselves the victor of the duel.

“Grab your coat” – yelled Sherlock at you. A doorman stood already ready with your coat in his hands. You rushed to him, collecting it with the ever look of confusion. – “What is the matter Sherlock?” – asked you, putting on your coat. Sherlock swung the front door open, walking out firmly. – “Make haste!” – grumbled he at you. It took you by surprise as you rarely saw him so fed up. – “Sherlock?” – called you out, running after him. Two horses had been prepared, standing perfectly still by the front door. You watched your brother hoist himself up without explination. Taking the reins in his hand, strutted the horse in the direction it had to go. – “What are you waiting for?” – his sudden loud voice, made your muscles squint together. 

In haste moved you to your horse, taking the reins from the stable boy. Hoisting yourself up in the saddle. You barely sat down when Sherlock took a run for it. – “Sherlock!” – yelled you out, urging your horse to go after him. Your body rocking with the movement of the horse, caught you up quickly. – “Sherlock! Keep me out of the dark, what is the matter?” – asked you firmly. – “It’s Mycroft!” – responded he, signaling his horse to go faster. You sunk a bit back in the saddle, a million thoughts crossing your mind. If it involved Mycroft, it was serious. It didn’t take you long to reach the long wide-open fields of the meadow. Huffing and puffing were you riding a small length behind your brother, wondering where he guided you to.

The loud thudding of the hooves leaving marks in the moist earth was thrilling. It was the only clear sound that reached your ears. Well if you didn’t count your beating heart that felt like falling out of your chest. The loud thumping of unknowing. Riding into darkness with no memory. You hated being in the dark, it wasn’t a nice place to be. It was cold and lonely. You wanted to be in the sun. Knowing exactly what was going on, for in the dark there was no place for such thing. It felt like walking up a long stairway. With each step you took a stretching feeling of being pulled away further from your purpose instead of moving towards it. Always another step. Never an end. – “There!” – pointed Sherlock out. 

Squinting your eyes a bit, could you make up the faint fragments of people. Four of them you counted. The wind was on your side, carrying their voices along. – “Five.” – reached your ears. Gasping loud, came the vision clearer to you. It was clear that two men were stepping away from each other. – “Four.” – reached your ears faintly, a voice drifted away by the wind. Then it hit you. It was a duel. Your heart stopped beating for a split second, making you grip tightly onto the reins. Your knuckles turning white from the firm grip. Calling loud, urged you, your horse to move faster. Ride with the wind as you needed to be there on time before anyone would be harmed.

The words ‘no’ softly escaped your lips. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to see this, but you had to stop it. You had lost sight of Sherlock as he was not important now. Your eyes fixed on Lord Bridgerton and your brother. You inhaled sharp, seeing them come to there last pace. – “Stop.” – said you, your voice lost. The wind came stinging in your eyes, clouding your vision with upcoming tears. – “Stop!” – called you out louder. They slowly turned to one another as you leaned forwards, racing to be there in time. They slowly moved their pistols down, ready to aim. You were close, too close. Bang! Your horse staggered, bringing it’s hooves upwards to the sky. You held onto the reins for as long as you could. 

A break of contact, made you slide off the horse, landing with a firm fall on the ground. – “Lady Y/n!” – called Anthony out. – “Sister!” – shouted Mycroft out. Both came running over when suddenly Anthony froze. He clutched his arm, feeling a sting of pain. Benedict rushed to his aid, seeing his white sleeve turn slightly red. Barely visible. You pulled the hood of your cloak down, lifting your head up. – “What are you doing here?” – shouted Mycroft at you, his hands hovering over your body. He was hesitant to help you up to your feet. – “Stopping this insanity!” – bit you back. Before you knew it, felt you a firm grip around your arms. – “Are you alright sister?” – it was Sherlock’s gentle voice.

He helped you up to your feet. – “What were you thinking!” – angry, shoved you Mycroft against his chest. Seeing he was clearly unharmed, made you, your way over to Lord Bridgerton. Mycroft was not the only idiot you cared for. – “My lord!” – gasped you out at the sight of his bare arm. You ran quickly over to him, seeing the flesh wound where the bullet had scratched his skin. Anthony bit the pain away when Benedict strapped a piece of cloth around his arm. – “You are hurt…” – said you, still taken back by it. – “Nothing is hurt, Lady Y/n.” – responded he. – “Only his pride.” – commented Benedict with a smile, tying a firm knot around his arm. It made Anthony flinch from the sting of pain. – “You… you do not need to worry, Lady Y/n.” – breathed he out. Taking a step back, quirked you, your eyebrow up. – “Lord Pemberly is taken care off.” – you couldn’t help yourself but gape at him a bit. – “Not so fast!” – heard you from behind you. – “I clearly won the duel!” – stated Mycroft, proudly. Lord Pemberly strutting behind him. – “You did not!” – grumbled Anthony out, his hand clutched to his wounded arm. – “If I am not mistaken good sir, you are the one bleeding, not me.”

“Yet I am still standing.” – replied Anthony coldly. – “My sisters affairs are not of your concern, Bridgerton!” – bit Mycroft, not standing down. – “You want your sister to marry him!” – agitated pointed Anthony at Lord Pemberly. – “A man who cannot keep his hands to himself.” – you swallowed, looking ashamed away. – “Y/n…” – Sherlock took you by the shoulder, turning you towards him. In your eyes he saw enough. It became all so clear to him now. Your call for help. Your desperate way of begging him to stop the marriage at any cost. It repulsed him, knowing Lord Pemberly dared to lay hands on his dear sister. Sherlock turned coldly to the lord. 

“Wha…I…that is absurd… accusations!” – called he out, stumbling backwards. – “She’s a liar!” – roared he out, pointing at you. – “A vicious serpent who only speaks foul!” – Sherlock raised his hand, aiming with the back of his hand at him. – “Stop!” – said Mycroft, grabbing a hold of Sherlock’s wrist. Sherlock did not wish to stand down, struggling to get his hand free. – “Take your leave now before I strip you off all your power.” – hissed Mycroft at Lord Pemberly. It stunned you to see a noble man luring inside your brother after all. You always thought he was cold hearted. A heavy stone for a heart. Perhaps traded once for connections or power. Lord Pemberly spurted away.

“I am sorry.” – whispered Sherlock to you, feeling his rage slowly fade away. You nodded content. With hopeful eyes turned you towards Anthony. It must be sure he did all this for his behalf. To have a chance for himself to get acquainted with you. Explore more the subtilty growing between the two of you. Yet he did not return your gaze. He looked away, his jaw tense. Whatever could be roaming his mind. Feeling suddenly a distance grow between the both of you turned you towards his brother, hoping he would explain it more. Benedict smiled faintly at you, not giving you anything more. – “We should take our leave.” – called you out. You returned to your horse, lifting your skirt a bit up. Anthony swallowed deep when he caught a glimpse of your ankle. You took a hold of the saddle, hoisting yourself up. You did not wait for your brothers, leaving them behind on the meadow.

It was at the festivity that you encountered Lord Bridgerton again after the duel days ago. The way things were left unspoken haunting you in your dreams. Lord Bridgerton his intensions were unclear. Why was it of such concern Lord Pemberly should be exterminated from your life. You were not complaining about that matter, but you had hoped perhaps he would make his debut. Announce himself loudly that he was interested in you. Wishing to take you as his wife. If he had asked, you surely would’ve said ‘yes’ right away. But he did not. He never said such things. He staid silent, even push himself to the background. The opposite of what you had dreamed off. 

Little ducklings quacked in the lake where you stood close to. Mycroft and Sherlock by your side. Your eyes wandered around the grass field. By the tents spotted you a familiar face in the presence of his siblings. Lord Bridgerton bowed his head down to greet you from afar. Looking away, didn’t you want to give him the satisfaction of being so gentile towards you after his silence. – “Come along brothers.” – said you, hurrying them away from the lake. Mycroft gaped at the dominance in your voice. For once you leading them. They both followed close by, their hands folded on their back.

You stopped near a tent to get some refreshments. Sherlock handed you some lemonade. – “Well sister, there are plenty of other suitable men.” – spoke Mycroft, observing them all in the fragment of a second. You hummed softly, acknowledging his words. He let his hand slide over his mouth, thinking about his strategy. A gentleman came in sight when you returned your empty glass. – “Lord Holmes.” – said he, getting on the tips of his toes for a moment, making himself larger in a swift movement. It took Mycroft a moment to recollect the man’s name. 

“Lord Wellington.” – answered he, seeing the man smile sheepishly. – “I…I was wondering… if perhaps…” – he cleared his throat with a nervous smile. – “Lady Y/n would be interested in a round around the lake?” – continued he, a trembling in his voice. You took the man in from top to bottom. He was very plain. Someone who could easily be lost in the crowd. Not unpleasant to look at. A very normal facial expression with a dimple in his cheek when he smiled. He was not Lord Bridgerton, but perhaps you should forget about him. – “I would be most delighted.” – answered you, to your brothers surprise. Joining him, walked you back towards the lake where the boats were stationed.

Anthony was listening to his sister and mother chattering when his eyes drifted away. He blinked rapidly to see if his eyes were not deceiving him. Making his eyes widen a bit more, focused he harshly at the scenery before him. You in the presence of another lord. Unknowingly tightened he his jaw, the little swallow hinting it. His eyes squinting ever so faintly to express his displeasing. A raw emotion overtook him. Was it perhaps jealousy? He was not sure. The only thing he could tell for sure was that looking upon it repulsed him. Agitating and vexing him. He inhaled sharply, barely a shift in his expression when you laid your hand in the gentleman’s one. Something clicked inside of him, sending him off without a warning. He brushed through his mother and sister who were in deep conversation. 

Eloise scoffed, shaking her head at his primal behavior. Violet and Eloise were interested to see what he might do. You were about to step onto the boat when you were put to a halt. – “Lady Y/n.” – spoke a warm voice. Narrowing your eyes, you could hear the clear force he held back. You gave him no attention, raising your hand so Lord Wellington could help you onto the boat. With one foot dangling in the air. – “Lady Y/n!” – repeated he, his voice on the brink of releasing that hard force he withheld. Closing your eyes for a moment to suppress a loud sigh, placed you, your foot back on the platform. – “Yes, Lord Bridgerton.” – said you ever so sweet with a fake smile. Anthony breathed loud through his nose, clearly hearing the performance you had just put on.

Your eyes lingered on him. Lost in his gaze for a moment. You hated how captivating it was. It send chills through-out your body. Making you curl your fingers to your palms to ease your urges. The moment was brief as Lord Bridgerton shifted his gaze towards Lord Wellington. – “Lord Wellington is it not?” – questioned Anthony, very sure of his deduction. The poor boy stumbled out a ‘yes’. That made Anthony hum loud with a smirk. Anthony folded his hands behind his back, leaning a bit forwards. – “I see you intend to take Lady Y/n for a ride around the lake is it not?” – said Anthony, stating the obvious. You pressed your lips a bit together, inhaling sharply at his clear intervening. 

Lord Wellington simply nodded, glancing over at you. You turned your head away when Anthony glanced at you as well. Anthony smirked wickedly, leaning a bit closer to Lord Wellington. – “How is that rash, Ernest.” – asked he, his voice low, but loud enough for you to hear. Lord Wellington turned a shade of red, embarrassed. – “Must have been truly unpleasant… specially in such a spot.” – Lord Bridgerton let his eyes guide down to his trousers. Lord Wellington yelped, moving his hand in front of his delicate area. Without a word, bowed he to you, taking his leave. Feeling too embarrassed by such a revelation about himself in the presence of a woman.

You exhaled deep, clenching your jaw a bit. – “Was that necessary?” – asked you agitated. Anthony came standing before you, frowning. – “I thought you would be content, I dismissed him for your benefit.” – answered he, making you laugh once. – “Is that what you plan to do, My lord?” – Anthony furrowed his brows even more. You felt your blood boil as he sure knew how to agitate you. – “Are your intentions towards me to dismiss all offers for me until what? There is no one left? Is that what you intend to do?” – called you out, wanting to know his answer. Anthony inhaled sharply, looking over his shoulders before leaning towards you, his hands still folded behind his back. – “I did you a favor!” – replied he, snapping at you. You laughed loud. – “Your nobility will not find me a husband!” – fired you back, trembling with rage.

“Do you intend to show interest in any man who crosses your path?” – asked he, demanded he. Urgh how infuriating he was. If you could, you would punch him in the face for his stupidity. – “Last time I counted my lord, I had two brothers not three. I do not need another man sharing their vision on what is best for me. Certainly not from you!” – spitted you at him. – “Good day!” – Called you out, moving past him. You were making your way off the platform when you heard some shouting. Before you knew it, slammed a ball against your upper part, making you lose balance. You called it out, your leg swooping up as you felt your back bend. Your arms swaying above your head, ready to make the fall. Then a vast grip around your wrist, made your head bounce.

Trembling on your knees, breathed you out shakily. Your feet pressed over the edge of the platform, your back hovering over the water as you were held steady by one man. Anthony had gripped onto your wrist, holding you in place so that you wouldn’t fall into the water. His eyes wide, pupils dilated. Fear written all over him. He slowly pulled you back, allowing your feet to find steady ground. Anthony moved his other hand to your elbow, giving you some support. – “Are you alright, Lady Y/n?” – asked he, his eyes intensely staring at you. You exhaled deep, staring back at him. Anthony parted his lips a bit, leaning forwards, but he stopped himself in time. 

He cleared his throat, taking a step back. He turned away, stepping more away when your brother came running over. – “Y/n!” – called Sherlock out. He jumped onto the platform, stroking your cheek to make sure you were alright. Anthony let his finger brush against his lips, lost in deep thoughts. You reassured Sherlock you were fine as he guided you onto vaster ground. Away from the lake. You did not look back at Anthony. He was aggravating to the least. He was never at all interested in you, thought you. He simply wish to act like one of your brothers. If that were his intentions, then you certainly wouldn’t make it easy for him to dismiss them all. For you still had to find a match.  

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