BBC SH - Reunion - MycroftThe Diogenes Club was old. The dark wood panelling and the high ceilings marking it out as a relic of a bygone era.BBC SH - Reunion - Mycroft3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Rather like many of its inhabitants.
And like every old thing, it was a bit battered around the edges.
Normally, Mycroft Holmes saw the grandeur and the glory of the building's past.
But today, in the gloom of January with the rain pattering with insistent consistency against the window, Mycroft found it hard to ignore the flaking paint and chipped wood surrounding him.
But then again, the entire world seemed a little bit tarnished now.
He sat in the window seat, a glass of brandy cradled in his lax fingers, gazing numbly down at the hooded and umbrella-d figures hurrying along in the street outside.
The door opened and closed quietly; informing him that someone else had entered The Stranger's Room.
He raised his brandy to his lips and gave it a sip.
The figure moved towards the window, following Mycroft's line of sight.
They stood in silence for a moment.
Then a low voic
BBC Sherlock - Christmas Special"Oh bloody hell . . ." John Watson groaned.BBC Sherlock - Christmas Special3 years ago in Humor More Like This
"I am guessing that the letter which fell out of the envelope along with your Christmas card from, to judge by the traditional religious iconography on the front, one of your more elderly relatives is not a welcome one." A voice drawled from the sofa.
"Decidedly not." John mused, staring at the letter with no faint contempt.
"Is it from an elderly relative?" Sherlock enquired for the sake of his own curiosity, awkwardly wriggling his way onto his front and dislodging Dante in the process. The cat hissed angrily at his master before slinking off and concealing himself under their Christmas tree which had been smuggled into their flat by Mrs Hudson. Attempts to remove the tree had resulted in pointed hints about eviction so for the sake of their tenancy agreement they left it be. Although Sherlock was still rather annoyed at his plastic skeleton being removed to make room for it.
"My Great Aunt and Uncle. Edith and Ernest, both ag
BBC Sherlock - CakeJohn stood in the kitchen doorway and stared.BBC Sherlock - Cake3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Sherlock Holmes was baking. The tall, slim figure had his back to John, a bowl cradled in his arm with all the ease of a master patisserie chef.
"You're staring John." Sherlock said, not turning round.
"And you're baking."
"And we have both just established that we have a firm grasp of the obvious." Sherlock said, amused, as he carefully sifted flour into the bowl and proceeded to mix it thoroughly.
"Are Tristan, Isolde and Persephone coming round then?" John asked, remembering the only other time he had seen Sherlock baking, that time for his little nieces and nephews in an attempt to spite Mycroft by violating the sugar embargo he had placed upon his offspring.
"No." Sherlock said, spooning the mixture into two cake tins.
"Can I not do something simply because I enjoy it?"
"Yes but you're not just doing it for giggles, are you?"
Sherlock smiled at John's accurate deduction. "No. Not this time no. But the point still stands. I
BBC SH - The Irregulars' Epilogue - ALife goes on.BBC SH - The Irregulars' Epilogue - A3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
In so many ways. And sometimes endings must happen. For better or for worse.
The Ghost of Covent Garden case was the beginning of an ending for the Irregulars.
Ophelia dropped out of university soon afterwards; there was nothing to keep her there now. She began to work with Sherlock and John near immediately.
Apparently the arrest and prosecution rate of Lestrade's team was higher than every other division in Scotland Yard for a good ten years afterwards, as a result of the two Holmeses working together.
Due to her odd hours, meeting up was hard.
This was not aided by Joey.
The voice coach, despite her initial shock at the fate of Arthur Hall, adored Joey and with proper tutoring her voice became moulded into an example of auditory perfection.
The Irregulars, even Ophelia, made it to her first performance as a member of an operatic chorus. And to her first minor lead role. And her first major lead role.
But they didn't meet up as much socially anymore.
Life was getting in
BBC SH Reunion - MollyThere was nothing nicer than being curled up warm in your bed with nothing but the hypnotic dance of the rain on your window to gentle the silence.BBC SH Reunion - Molly3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Molly Hooper was balanced on the very cusp of sleep, her duvet snugly moulded to the shape of her body like an embrace.
One of her eyes cracked open slightly.
She mentally scolded herself for falling asleep with her book in her hand and the bedside light on, but was too comfortable to get too irritated at herself.
She sighed, contented, and let her eyes slip shut once more.
Molly Hooper had always wanted to help people. Born cleverer than average, her father and mother had been so proud when she'd became a doctor. And she had loved it. For a while.
But, like sand in an hourglass creeping up the sides of the glass, the ones that she simply couldn't have saved began to accumulate.
Her parents worried about the falseness of her smile. She never had been good at pretending she was alright when she wasn't.
Then one day, she quietly informed them
BBC SH - Lost and FoundA man sat alone in a bar.BBC SH - Lost and Found3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
There was a neat little pyramid of glasses in front of him. Ten shot glasses in one pyramid. Five in a half-completed pyramid. Three pint glasses.
His jacket sleeve had trailed in a puddle of something blue. He grabbed vaguely at the material and sucked the liquid away.
Glacier mint vodka. From a puddle left by an earlier patron.
The bar man came over.
He pushed a handful of coins towards him.
"Alone again?" He said, ignoring the money.
He nodded and tapped pointedly at the coins.
"I should cut you off." He said, despairingly.
"How much wood could a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood." He said, his voice wooden. "I'm fine. Hit me."
He sighed and took the money, giving him another pint. "Mate, I have seen a lot of people in my time and believe me you are not fine."
"More fine than I would be without it." He mumbled into the pint.
The sick gyroscopic whirling in his head was a welcome companion now.
It meant he wouldn't dream tonight.
BBC SH - Reunion - Mrs HudsonThe door clicked closed with a barely audible noise.BBC SH - Reunion - Mrs Hudson3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Mrs Hudson let her shopping bags drop to the floor, sighing as her tired arms gained relief for the first time since she'd left the shop.
Above her 221B felt shadowy and cold.
It always did.
Oh well, she was old. She had lost many. She knew better than to dwell upon the past.
But it would be dishonest to deny that she still felt the painful little tugs on her heart whenever she thought of her boys.
Her poor lovely boys.
She sighed. She was being maudlin again.
Her joints were aching with the damp of the persistent January rain which numbed her toes and chilled her to her bones so she reluctantly hauled her bags up again and waddled awkwardly through to 221C.
She needed a cup of tea.
She paused as she reached her door.
It was partly ajar.
She bit down a moment of panic, shaking her head miserably. She could have sworn she had closed it.
Must be going senile. Oh dear, oh dear . . . It was all downhill from here. Next thing she'd
We AreI am the friendWe Are3 years ago in Settings More Like This
who lost his best friend today. I can't move, can't speak. I crumple into myself. I never knew. He never told me anything. I saw them, heard them taunt him. They dragged him down down till that smile of his was just a ghost.
I didn't know it hurt him so much. But somehow I knew someday I would have to face this. I saw the shadows forming, the future setting itself up. I wanted to grip him, pull him close, and never let him go. He had been my best friend, the kid I couldn't think of never seeing again because I never had to. I feared the day that I would wake up and know I would never see him again.
And it came and I don't know what to do. There's nowhere to turn, no one to call, and I wonder if this hollowness will be there forever.
I am the mother
who has to bury her son years before his time. I never knew what went on in his head. I saw his face, saw the fear in his eyes, but I could never break through. He wouldn't tell me. He was too
BBC SH - Reunion - OpheliaThe sterile tunnels of the London Underground were familiar territory for Ophelia. She had trod the paths to Oxford Circus and Liverpool Street and Mornington Crescent so often that frequently she did not even open her eyes. Just let her feet guide her.BBC SH - Reunion - Ophelia3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
She knew every crack in every tile, every dot of gum on the floor, the optimum places for the musicians who performed in the winding passageways to stand to achieve the best harmonics.
And today, with the January rain streaming off her purple hair to run in rivulets down her clothes, Ophelia Holmes trod those tunnels for the last time.
In her damp hand- protectively wrapped in a clear, plastic bag- she had a plane ticket to Canada.
The flight was due to leave at 03:45 tomorrow morning.
She'd never really thought about her country much. In her heart she knew that no matter where she ended up she would always be English. The same way that Anya, despite her Ontario accent, would always be the girl from Archangelsk. Despite the million char
BBC SH - Lullabies - BIt was very rare to catch Sherlock Holmes humming.BBC SH - Lullabies - B3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Occasionally the odd bar of a violin tune as he was composing, yes. But it was highly uncommon to find him with a song stuck in his head.
But John Watson was a clever man, and he had spotted a pattern.
When Sherlock texted Ophelia, occasionally John would find him gently murmuring a tune to himself as he typed.
He didn't put two and two together until a few weeks later when a song came on the radio.
At the beginning of the tune, Sherlock looked up.
He never looked up normally.
After a moment, John realised that it was the same song that he caught him humming very so often.
A piece of a puzzle slotted into place in his head.
"Is this the song then?" He asked.
"Excuse me?" Sherlock said, distractedly.
"You said that the only song you can vaguely tolerate is a song that you used to sing to Ophelia when she was little. To judge by your reaction when this came on, I'm guessing it's this one."
"Very good." Sherlock said, nodding at John's th
BBC SH - Reunion - LestradeHis phone rang.BBC SH - Reunion - Lestrade3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Lestrade sighed and reached for it, noticing how Donovan looked over her shoulder at him from where she was driving the car. "Hello?"
"Sir," He recognised Evelyn's voice. Young, relatively new, he had recognised her potential when she first joined and helped her learn the ropes. As such Sergeant Evelyn 'Evie' Makepeace was fiercely loyal to him.
Even now after everything that had happened.
He sighed. "I'm not 'Sir' anymore Evie. I'm just Greg, remember?"
To her credit, Donovan tried not to look too smug at that.
"Whatever you say, Sir." Evie said, slightly darkly. "You need to get back, Sir. Fast."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"Someone you need to see."
" . . . You'll want to see for yourself, Sir."
"Wha . . . Look, alright . . . We're an hour and fifteen minutes away. Tell whoever it is they might want to go away and come back later."
There was a pause.
"He said he'd wait."
Lestrade frowned. That did sound odd. Informers never lingered long at the Yard for fear they mig
BBC SH - Medic DayJohn Watson sat back in his armchair, feeling a strange giddy sensation of excited pride.BBC SH - Medic Day2 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
This was a momentous day.
The first time ever that his parents had visited him at 221B.
Mr. And Mrs Watson were sat on the sofa, looking around with approving curiosity as they sipped at the cups of tea their son had just handed to them.
"Is he ever going to move?" Mrs Watson asked, inquisitively nodding towards Sherlock who was sat in his armchair.
"No, probably not for another couple of hours. He's currently shifting through old cases in his head to try and find a link." John admitted, looking at his flatmate who was staring into the middle-distance with a deceptively vacant expression. "Don't take it personally that he hasn't greeted you. When he gets like this he doesn't notice anything."
"Doesn't this get a bit boring for you, when he's like this?" Mr. Watson said, scooping Gladstone off the floor and fussing over the delighted bulldog.
"I used to, but now I just like the quiet." John admitte
BBC SH- Great Wall of PillowsJohn Watson knew for a fact he was a boring sleeper.BBC SH- Great Wall of Pillows3 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Despite Sherlock's many quips about his snoring shaking plaster dust off the ceiling, John still was certain that his flatmate was joking and that in fact he was a placid, uneventful snoozer.
Sherlock however slept only sporadically. And when he did he would wriggle and mumble to himself in his sleep, as well as clutching onto anything within the reach of his sleepy arms and cuddling into it contentedly. But, even with John's firm guidance Sherlock could only be coaxed into a semi-regular sleep pattern and even then only when there was no case to be had.
John got the feeling however that this was not to be one of those nights.
They had spent the entire day chasing around Manchester in the course of a case and they had only resolved the matter after a tense chase through the city that had involved Sherlock misjudging a rugby tackle which sent him and the suspect flying into the River Mersey.
It was December. It was freezing. It
Vietnama cellar door was beginningVietnam5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to open somewhere in all of us
emerging somewhere between
the throat and the spine,
spitting out ink as it burrowed deeper,
giving a new place to hide and store
smiles for better days,
a place for matchbooks and
milk cartons and anything in-between
a place to harbor unkept promises and
other multitudes of sorrow.
had been placed on shelves with chipped
high above the earth
were brought underneath us once again
at this not-quite cemetery,
the all-encompassing "i-love-you"
buried deeply in the mix
of scattered blades and bones
as we learned
how to confront skeletons
belonging to strangers other than ourselves.
from passing by the roses strewn
at the feet of the fallen and feeling
the names of the dead on the cold, wet
stone, there became a certain
satisfaction in breathing
and even more in realizing we still could.
That is So GayWow. That is so gay.That is So Gay3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I mean it. That is so homosexual.
Or maybe it is so jewish.
Or so asian.
Or maybe so black.
Or so kid-who-never-gets-off-their-computer.
Or so jock-who-will-peak-in-high-school.
Or so dumb-blond
Or so hetero.
When you say 'thats so gay,' i say 'thats-so-idiot-who-really-needs-a-dictionary.'
FagFag. Queer. Sissy. Gayboy. Princess.Fag2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Every day I'd get up and go to school.
Every day they would be waiting for me.
From the time I walked in till the time I walked out, and even after that online and on the phone; I couldn't escape the names. I couldn't escape the disgust.
I came out as gay in the eighth grade, and it wasn't that big of a deal. Nobody in my family minded and most were actually very supportive. Even the kids at school didn't seem to care that much. It wasn't until another boy came out as gay, Eric Dewitt. I had always had a bit of a crush on him and it wasn't long before me and him became a couple.
I guess that's what it took to make it real for all my classmates, because after that it was hell.
At first I would get beat up, but Eric and the school administration put a stop to that. After that came the names and the looks.
The names were bad, the looks were the worst.
When somebody looks at you as if you were less than nothing, as if you were the filthiest scum on the
Why Do You Hate Me?Why Do You Hate Me?3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
As I lay here on this cold winter's night
I begin to wonder what I have done wrong
That you could become so angered enough
To bash my head with glass
And kick me till my body
Was covered with bruises and blood
The blood that would never stop running
All I have to ask is why?
Why did you want to harm me so bad?
I had loved you with all of my heart
Because you were my master
And all I ever wanted to do was please you
My heart is full of pain
When I think of my beloved sister
We were sleeping so soundly together
When you grabbed her by the neck
And dragged her out the door
Her helpless cries pierced my ears
The ones that were caused
When you set her fur aflame
And let her burn away to ashes
Now I lay here wondering why?
Why did you have to torture her to death?
She loved you as much as I did
Because you were her master
And she never tried to disobey
My body is growing so cold and numb
I can feel my time is now coming to an end
I still love you, my
ProcrastinationMirror, mirror, on the wall.Procrastination7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Life takes its course,
And death, its toll.
Rise up stars
To watch them fall.
And await the answer
To their call.
It’s all fun and games
Til someone gets hurt.
Money and fame,
Lost in the dirt.
Take care of your esteem,
Reputation and wealth.
But no matter the money,
You can never buy health.
Maybe then you’ll see
Who you could’ve been
On a throne of gold
A beauty queen.
Living your life
Like the wispy light
Of a dying candle
On a windy night.
Your time is short,
Your life is shorter,
Tying its knots
On the lesson they taught her
In a simple dictate:
“You don’t have the time
BBC Sherlock-BabysittingJohn Watson rubbed his eyes wearily and summoned the last fragments of his patience. "Alright, run it by me one more time. You did what?"BBC Sherlock-Babysitting4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Sherlock Holmes was, for some unfathomable reason, sopping wet and covered in soap suds. His clothes were plastered to his skinny frame and he stood dripping in front of Watson's armchair, peering down at his friend through his sodden fringe. "I ran through a car wash." He explained, calmly, for the third time.
John sat back in his chair, his eyes closing despairingly, and asked the question again. "Why?"
"Chasing a suspect."
"And it didn't occur to you to go around the car wash instead of through it?" Then John remembered this was a guy who, on the very night he met him, got hit by a car whilst chasing a suspect. Sherlock may have been incredibly intelligent but the tunnel vision he got when a suspect was in sight often led him to do chronically stupid things. Rather like running through an operational car wash . . .
"Well, he w
Ano oka deあの丘でAno oka de1 year ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Ano oka de
Kami de tsukutta
Sakura ni ochita
On that hill
Fell in the cherry blossoms
A searching child
Ode to a HeadshotBoom,Ode to a Headshot8 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I say boom.
Should of chose the other room.
Don't even ponder how.
It's too late now.
Between the eyes.
I sniped all you freaking guys.
Back, front, side and side.
Huh, just try to hide.
Just try to run.
Moving targets are so much fun.
I see that unprotected head.
I'll shoot you dead.
You fall in my trap.
Aren't you tired of this crap?
My finger's on the trigger groove.
There's nowhere to move.
Where'd you go?
I'll wait for your head to show.
You'll never find my sniper spot.
The skill you've got not.
Hey don't do that.
You sneaky little rat.
You cheater, you're no fun.
Now put down that shotgun.
You killed me.
How could I not see?
Stupid lag, it's all your fault.
Feel the wrath of my assault!
You said....You told me “friends forever”,You said....8 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
More like ‘friends for now’,
As your sweet promises
Were just lies I allowed.
You said “we are best friends”,
More like ‘friends at best’,
As your solid affirmations
Were all digressed.
You told me “I need you”
More like ‘you need me’
As your statements
Were my last plea.
Why did you go?
Why did you leave?
I’m left here all alone
Trying, in us, to believe.
BBC Sherlock-Christmas DinnerJohn Watson rolled his eyes as he heard yet another smash coming from Sherlock's bedroom. He had never ventured past the (faintly-charred) door and had no ideas of the horrors which lurked within. But, he mused, given that it belonged to a man who kept eyeballs in the microwave and frequently attempted to create plastic explosives in the kitchen sink, chances are he probably had some nefarious experiments in there. Experiments which, to judge by the noise, were currently being knocked to the floor.BBC Sherlock-Christmas Dinner4 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
"Sherlock, we're going to be late." He called through the door.
"I know, I know!" Came the irritated response, coupled with a sound like a parrot being sat on.
"Mycroft specified 6:30. If we're to get to Holmes House in time we've got to leave in the next five minutes. Especially since taxis are always so scarce on Christmas eve." John said, re-reading the invitation he held in his hand.
"I know." There was a high pitched whizzing noise and a thud as something embedded itself i