Is this what happens when Sherlockians leak into other fandoms?
Is this what happens when Sherlockians leak into other fandoms?Is this what happens when Sherlockians leak into other fandoms?
We really need season 3 as soon as possible.
We’re in your fandoms, deducing your shit.
We’re in your fandoms deducing your shit.
…
nO.
On the relationship between John and Sherlock [x]
I like this take on their relationship. Regardless on whether you interpret it as romantic or not, his points are really spot-on
Written for Prompt 4 (Ad hominem) of the Party Shernanigans.
—-
Ordinary people were so stupid. Fools, the lot of them, so easily tricked by a simple illusion or two. Molly would find them all so dull if she didn’t have so much fun pulling the wool over their eyes. It was so easy to make them all love little Molly Hooper. Good, sweet, innocent Molly, with her fumbling advances and oversized jumpers and Glee DVDs. She giggled to herself, thinking about the inane excuses people had so gullibly accepted.
Molly mysteriously vanished in the middle of the night for hours at a time? “I’m sorry, did I worry you? I was working late at Barts!”
“Oh, of course, you silly little thing! You do love your work so much, don’t you?” She loved her work very much indeed; her real work that is, the one where she made corpses, not examined them.
That long gash on Molly’s arm? “Toby was a bit cranky last night. I think he’s going through catnip withdrawal!”
“You spoil that cat, you know? You need to take care of yourself too Molly! I’m sure we could set you up with a nice bloke!” Urgh, boring. Why date a man when you could peel him open, layer by layer, and find out what makes him tick?
A strange red stain on Molly’s new blouse? “I was baking some red velvet cupcakes last night. Do you want me to bring some over?”
“Oh no dear, that’s okay, I really must be watching my waistline. You’re such a darling, did you know that?” Oh, Molly was fully aware of how darling she was. After all, surely someone with a blog that pink couldn’t be capable of anything remotely evil, right?
Ordinary people were so stupid. Molly didn’t mind; it made her life just that much easier.
Written for Prompt 3 (turning good characters evil and vice versa) for the Party Shernanigans
—-
Dear Jim,
I should have expected this from you. You were always the impulsive one, always getting in trouble with the foster parents or the teachers or the orphanage and then somehow worming your way out of it all. But you didn’t manage to worm your way out of this, did you? Part of me feels like you didn’t even try.
You didn’t try Jim.
You used to taunt me for not trying. Do you remember that, Jim? You called me weak and girly until I turned thirteen and showed you that I too could be merciless, that I too could be deadly. Or did you forget who killed Carl Powers for you? It seems that you have- had forgotten so much else.
I was the one who got their hands dirty, remember? It was supposed to be my job. You were just supposed to tease and crow and strut with your showmanship and your charisma and your charm. That’s what we agreed on every night, when we would lie in bed and make our plans, playing with the insignificant lives of the insipid world around us. I miss those nights, Jim. But that’s not the point. The point is, we had a deal. We had a pact. It was us against the world, that damn stupid ordinary world with its ordinary people, and now you’re gone. You died with a bullet through your brain and your blood on your hands and don’t you understand that I could have done it for you? We were supposed to do this together, Jim.
You told me something, the night I killed Carl Powers. You told me that the Moriartys would be unstoppable. You told me that the world was ours to play with and cut and make bleed.
I never thought that it would work the other way around too.
Goodbye Jim.
Your sister,
Molly Moriarty
#there is absolutely no fucking way this isn’t haunting him #every goddamn day #one of the last things he got to say to sherlock holmes when he was more than a name on a headstone #and he replays it over and over again and drives himself crazy #probably catches himself imaging a dozen and one different things he could have said #standing at the kitchen counter with his tea oversteeping and a second mug sitting nearby that he didn’t even know he’d grabbed #ugh get away
(As prompted by wellthatwas-tedious. I’ve never been on an actual bona-fide train that wasn’t part of a subway line, so sorry for any glaring inaccuracies!)
“I’ve actually never been out to the countryside before,” Molly admitted bashfully as she gazed out the glass window of the train car at the green scenery whizzing by. “Really?” Martin asked incredulously from beside her, giving his girlfriend a disbelieving look.
Molly blushed and gave him an embarrassed smile. “Really. I’m a city girl, born and bred.”
They sat comfortably in silence for a few moments before Molly had an idea.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together in glee. “I know! I ought to take a picture of this. Us, going to the countryside for the first time. I’ve been wanting to restart the blog for a while, and this would be a great first entry!” She paused, then added hastily, “I mean, if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure, why not?” Martin replied with an amused chuckle.
“I know I have my camera in here somewhere.” Head buried in her oversized bag, Molly was too engrossed in her search for the camera to pay attention to where she was pacing in the small cabin. “Aha!” she exclaimed as she pulled the object from her bag with a flourish and knocking over Martin’s glass of water as a result. However, before either of them could react to the spill, a combination of the already-slippery floor (made even slicker by Martin’s drink) and Molly’s natural klutziness sent her feet flying out from under her. As she fell towards the floor, Martin reacted instinctively and reached out to catch his girlfriend in a half-stumble, half-dive that was utterly graceless and completely awkward and yet, somehow, still effective.
Martin lay sprawled on the floor with an armful of cute forensic pathologist, not quite sure how his usually non-existent reflexes had let him catch his girlfriend. “I’ve got you” he murmured, unable to hide the amazement in his voice.
Molly smiled and whispered, “I know.”
(As prompted by wellthatwas-tedious. I’ve never been on an actual bona-fide train that wasn’t part of a subway line, so sorry for any glaring inaccuracies!)
“I’ve actually never been out to the countryside before,” Molly admitted bashfully as she gazed out the glass window of the train car at the green scenery whizzing by. “Really?” Martin asked incredulously from beside her, giving his girlfriend a disbelieving look.
Molly blushed and gave him an embarrassed smile. “Really. I’m a city girl, born and bred.”
They sat comfortably in silence for a few moments before Molly had an idea.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together in glee. “I know! I ought to take a picture of this. Us, going to the countryside for the first time. I’ve been wanting to restart the blog for a while, and this would be a great first entry!” She paused, then added hastily, “I mean, if that’s okay with you.”
“Sure, why not?” Martin replied with an amused chuckle.
“I know I have my camera in here somewhere.” Head buried in her oversized bag, Molly was too engrossed in her search for the camera to pay attention to where she was pacing in the small cabin. “Aha!” she exclaimed as she pulled the object from her bag with a flourish and knocking over Martin’s glass of water as a result. However, before either of them could react to the spill, a combination of the already-slippery floor (made even slicker by Martin’s drink) and Molly’s natural klutziness sent her feet flying out from under her. As she fell towards the floor, Martin reacted instinctively and reached out to catch his girlfriend in a half-stumble, half-dive that was utterly graceless and completely awkward and yet, somehow, still effective.
Martin lay sprawled on the floor with an armful of cute forensic pathologist, not quite sure how his usually non-existent reflexes had let him catch his girlfriend. “I’ve got you” he murmured, unable to hide the amazement in his voice.
Molly smiled and whispered, “I know.”
Written for Prompt 3 (turning good characters evil and vice versa) for the Party Shernanigans
—-
Anthea is just a meaningless designation, an off-the-cuff moniker given with a wave and a smile; her real name is Arachne, a much more fitting (and much more telling) one. For you see, she has always loved spiders. She is drawn to their grace, their efficiency, but most of all, she is drawn to their creations. For, you see, spiders do spin such intricate webs, elegant yet strong, their apparent fragility belying their ruthless practicality, and that is something she can aspire to, in her own way.
So she lies in her bed, weaving a web all her own. Her loom may be her Blackberry and her cloth may be information, but the work she creates is as beautiful as any of her namesake’s tapestries. The threads of a million lives are hers to weave and trim as she sees fit, an intricate network as invisible as gossamer but as deadly as steel. Her namesake’s deft hand is mirrored in the neat notes stored in her phone, filled with enough information to topple an empire, ancient or modern. But spiders are patient, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce, and she is no different. She has waited for years, planning her move, and when she does strike, it will be decisive.
It will be effective.
It will be deadly.
After all, every weaver knows when it’s time to cut their thread.
