Calais Reno

Lots of GO fics on my MFL list, so here's another list of recent fics! Enjoy!

RECENT MFLs

Unnaturally Bright by PrincessOfHouseNightstar (G, 1,178 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S2/S3 Speculation, Supreme Archangel Aziraphale, Headaches/Migraines, Comfort, Fluff, Protective Crowley, Soft Crowley, Sick Fic, Soft Aziraphale) – The Supreme Archangel Aziraphale is dealing with a terrible headache and Crowley comes to his rescue. Part 10 of Good Omens Oneshots

Gleams On Volumes Of Old by Poet_to_None (M, 6,078 w., 3 Ch. || Idiots in Love, Through the Ages, Banter, Affection) – Vignettes over time featuring a touch starved demon and very dear angel who errs in too much restraint.

Crowley's Herbal by CopperBeech (G, 9,915 w., 10 Ch. || Post S1, Through the Ages, The Arrangement, 6000 Years of Pining, South Downs Cottage, First Kiss, Canon Scene Vignettes, Gunshot Wounds, Soft, Angst, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Protective Aziraphale, Language of Flowers, Gardener Crowley, Gardening, Oblivious Aziraphale, Hurt/Comfort) – I thought it would be fun to write a series of little vignettes about the floriographic symbolism of the plants Crowley chooses for his cottage garden, and then centuries of pining happened. I'll show myself out.

The Loophole, or, How to Convince a Demon God Exists in Three Easy Steps by fellshish (E, 24,371 w., 4 Ch. || Post S2 Divergence, POV Aziraphale, Humour, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Coming in Pants, First Time, Spanking, Gay Pride, Church Sex, Hand Jobs, Rimming, Masturbation, Facials, Object Insertion, Object Penetration, Ass to Mouth, Exhibitionism, Begging, Safe Words, Apology Dance, Long Haired Crowley, Begging, Crying Crowley, Emotional Sex, Hijinks/Shenanigans, Dom/Sub Undertones, Prophecies) – Ah, yes. Being an Archangel is going splendidly. Aziraphale accidentally erases God from the Book of Life.

Happy Friday everyone! Enjoy this week's selection of fics!

RECENT MFLs

"...and then the rains came..." by notjustmom (NR, 563 w., 1 Ch. || TRF Divergence / Sherlock Returns, Established Relationship, Angst & Fluff) – He was beginning to forget him.

The Song of the Whale Road by fresne (T, 1,409 w., 2 Ch. || Viking Omegaverse || Beta John, Omega Sherlock, Viking Sherlock, Byzantine Greek John, Female John) – Jinis Blackheart had been born to be a Berserker. Sherlokr Quickwit of Holdalanda had been born under a wandering star. He'd have sailed his ship over the edge of the world if he were able to find it. It was to his good fortune that Ioanna of Byzantium was of the same mind. Part 24 of Variations on an Equation; Part 33 of Phrygian Choices

Overdue by Rachelea3 (G, 4,503 w., 1 Ch. || TEH, Missing Scene, Sherlock's PTSD, POV Sally, Apologies) – Not much of an apology, perhaps, but long overdue.

The Fifth Pip by Calais_Reno (T, 14,993 w., 5 Ch. || TGG Fic, Missing John, Abduction, Oblivious Sherlock, John is So Done, Angst with Happy Ending) – “He hasn’t noticed you’re missing. What does that tell you?” John says nothing. “You keep waiting, wondering when he will ask too much of you. You fear it because then you’ll have to choose between your self-respect and your compulsion to follow him. That’s it, isn’t it? You shot the cabbie, and it gave a whole new meaning to your life.” Moriarty smiles, his eyes empty. There’s no answer to this. John has been waiting, thinking he’ll reach the limit, but Sherlock only pushes, and asks, and John keeps giving. “I have an idea,” Moriarty says. “Let’s find his limit.” Part 7 of More Words

Sherlock fandom. TW: canonical suicide, blood, depression.

It Was My Fault

Somehow, I can’t shake the feeling that I was to blame for Sherlock’s suicide. I should have observed more carefully. When I think about our last encounter – before the roof incident – God, I was so angry with him! But now, I’m able to peel away his obnoxious behaviour and to see how anxious he was. He already knew what he was about to do next - once he got me to leave - and it must have terrified him. Even the great Sherlock Holmes couldn’t have been indifferent to jumping from a building to his inevitable death.

“You have blood on your hands, Watson. His blood.”

This is a mantra I tend to torment myself with when I wake from a nightmare; a horrible dream where I see him fall in slow motion to prolong my agony. When I finally reach him - no one stops me this time - I place my palms on his beautiful face, wipes away the blood, closes his eyes, and pecks his lips.

“Sleep tight, Sherlock. I love you. I’m sorry.” I whisper in his ear.

The dream always ends with people appearing to take him away. I fight them like a tiger, but to no avail.

I wake with his name on my lips, tears streaming down my cheeks, and my heart shatters once more.

by Holmesianlove

The link to AO3

A huge thank you to @helloliriels for the stunning cover art created for #FTH2026

Thank you to all my lovely supporters and to everyone who has been reading along!

Chapter 14: Together

When I awoke, I was in my bed in Baker Street and Holmes was seated by my bed in a chair, watching me sleep.

“You’re here. You’re always here.” I smiled gently.

“I needed to make sure you were alright.” He looked extremely relieved to see me waking up.

“When I was shot… I thought I saw you on the battlefield,” I mumbled to him.

“You did see me on the battlefield,” Holmes said with a cheeky grin. He stroked my face gently. "I was the soldier that brought you to the hospital."

I gasped in shock. "You were a soldier too?"

"Well no. But I had to dress like one, to be allowed on the field... and so I..." He lowered his eyes, suddenly shy.

He had saved my life.

“I thought I was going mad… And at the pub before I left for battle? And following me in the streets when I came home?”

He nodded.

“How can you be in so many places?” 

“Because… I am a vampire, Watson. I think you know that now. I can travel long distances at fast speeds. And I needed to know you were safe.”

"Why me?" I looked at him, confused by all of it. I understood that he had drawn me in. How could he not? He was magnificent. And mysterious. And captivating. And now he had enticed me into a world of adventure I wanted to be a part of. But what was I to him? What could I possibly be to someone like him?

"You're captivating too, you know?" he said, with a little smile, as if he had heard my thoughts and I felt my face flush, knowing he had understood. "You caught my eye in that tavern and I could hear all of your thoughts. The rhythm of your heartbeat was... just the right one... I... it won't make sense to you." He shook his head, frowning into his lap. 

The realisation hit that he had come to rescue me, when he had been in bed unconscious not that long ago. How had he managed to be out on the street saving me? When he had been so unwell when I last saw him? “Your fever…” I tried to sit up, more urgently now to check on him. 

“I take on disease. When you saw me, I had... I must have fed from someone who was unwell and I can get sick from bad blood." Again he had read my thoughts. "I'm not proud of what I am, Watson. I don't want you to be what I am. We can't… Why would you want this?” 

“I can't live without you,” I rushed to say. “And if you won't do it, I will find someone who will. I won't live without you, Sherlock Holmes. And it seems you can't live without me, if you're mad enough to follow me through a war zone and…” 

“To protect you. To save you, not to... drag you to hell.” He blushed.

I distinctly saw a blush cross his pale cheeks and it was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. I reached a hand out tentatively to touch his as it rested on the edge of the bed beside me, unable to look at him at first, as I spoke.

“This is no hell. Not when we're together. You can't call this hell. Please. Please. Put your hands on me again. Please, lay your eyes on me again. And don't take them off me. For I can't... bear another day without them. Holmes... Sherlock, my life is… insanity without you in it. I don’t care what it is that I must go through to be with you, so long as we're together. Just be with me. That's all I ask. I refuse to die alone if I can be with you and make that choice. That's what I choose. Whatever that looks like. Whatever horrors you think it is to be with you. I choose those... forever.” When I finally looked up at him, his eyes were filled with tears from my words.

“I cannot do it, John.” 

I smiled. He finally said my name. “Of course you can. Of course you can. I'm asking. I'm begging you to do it.” 

“Please don’t.” 

I struggled up slowly onto my knees in the bed, surprising Holmes out of his chair. He stood, unsure what I was doing and I reached out, lifting his hands, forcing them up to hold my head. Then I tilted my own neck, allowing my pale skin into the candlelight. “Please.” 

“John, I cannot do it,” his voice choked out again. “Not to you. Please don't ask me.” 

“Of course you can.” I held his hands in place for a moment longer until I knew he wouldn’t let go.

“John,” he whispered in warning. 

“Listen to the sound of my blood pumping through my veins. I know you can hear it.” 

“Stop it. What are you doing?” He asked, quietly panicking, his eyes wide.

“It's warm. Inviting. It's calling to you. It's been waiting. It's been... It's been cooking in my body, thinking of you… burning for you. Waiting... for your lips, Sherlock.” 

Holmes let out a choked sound and then a whimper. “Please stop. Please. John, you don't know what you're doing,” he gasped desperately. 

“Oh, I think I do. I'm fairly certain I do.” I wrapped my arm around his waist to pull him close against me. “Can you hear it?” 

“Yes,” he whispered. 

“Then take it. Take it. Take what you need. Take what you want. It's all yours. I'm all yours. I've always been yours. You own me. From that first moment you looked at me across the room in that tavern, I was yours. You knew it. I knew it. I've always known it. Every moment you have waited. You've been toying with me, Sherlock Holmes. Playing with your food. Just take me.” 

Deep, from within his chest I heard a growl. For the briefest of moments, I felt fear. But I knew. I knew he would never hurt me. The slightest smile passed over my lips as I knew I’d won. And I felt elated. 

He finally bent down and his lips kissed the delicate skin on my throat. Just like they had in my dream.

I let out a sigh. And a satisfied groan. 

For the briefest of moments it felt lovely and goosebumps ran down my spine as everything in me tingled with pleasure from the feeling of his lips on my throat.

“Thank you,” I whispered. 

Then I felt them. The sharpest pin pricks. 

And I closed my eyes. 

As I sank against Sherlock Holmes and finally let it happen.

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Fluffbruary Extended Version Infinifluff. July 14. (Sherlock fandom) Prompts: twig - annual - plant + the image below.

Chapter 5: Blue Seeds

Summary: Sherlock is nowhere to be seen when John ventures downstairs, but he hears some sounds from the scullery. Outside, the landscape is covered in snow, which startles him. He had no idea he would encounter that in this place. He walks into the scullery and when Sherlock realises that John is awake, he seems utterly relieved. John doesn't understand why. He's only been asleep for approximately seven hours, hasn't he?

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Mycroft awakens momentarily confused, his heart beating fast, to find himself tangled in the sheets of an unfamiliar bed. Then he smiles, calm returning, at the stripes of warm sunlight that spill across the room and the luxurious sheets of the bed he finds himself in. A breeze slips in through open French doors, carrying the scent of the nearby beach.

Then his heart skips a beat for a different reason as he is reminded why he is here, in a strange room in a strange land, yet not alone: Gregory.

From the en suite, Greg strides out, scratching at his silver head absently. The same sunlight falls over him, highlighting the lines of his nude form. Seeing him awake, Greg smiles radiantly and extends his hand, stepping closer to the bed.

Mycroft also reaches out, drawing him into the soft space beside him.

"I've waited a long time. Is it too soon?" he asks.

"Too soon to what?" Greg raises a curious brow.

“Say my name,” he whispers, shy but earnest.

Now lying beside him, Greg grins with soft indulgence. Left hands with matching bands intertwine, and the room seems to brighten.

Greg tenderly speaks his full name, emphasizing the newly added hyphenation, glimmering with the truth that this is the first morning of the first day of the rest of their lives together.

“Mycroft David Alexander Holmes-Lestrade.”

=========================================

Read Comment on AO3

Only a few more chapters left!

Chapter 11: Too Much of a Good Thing

It became a ritual after that. 
We would stroll and talk. Sometimes we would investigate cases together - even solved a few, which was thrilling. And sometimes we would just get to know each other better, spending time together. I had to admit, I think those were some of my favourite moments. Occasionally, he would leave me after our walk to go to a club. I dared not ask which one, but it sounded exclusive. He was very private about it. 
I assumed it to be either a gentleman's club or one that required the attendees to be of a certain social standing, one of which I certainly didn’t belong. Perhaps he merely didn’t wish to embarrass me by mentioning it. Heaven forbid if it were some kind of immoral club, that was even further beyond my imaginings. In any case, he would leave me with some excuse or other and promise me that he would eat wherever he was going. 
We never had meals together. I would go home and cook or go out and find somewhere to eat for myself, but we would always have our time to go walking and talking together first, getting to know one another. 

I began to appreciate his strange formal ways and, understanding his little eccentricities, the ways in which he showed his respect and friendship. I tried desperately to stay awake longer at home so that I might catch the moments he would come out  of his room. Sadly, I had yet to hear him play the violin. 
God knows what hour of the night that was happening. Sometimes I would wake in the lounge room, asleep in the armchair with an open book resting against me, having stayed up in hopes of catching him. Alas, I had failed. It was a great disappointment, and he refused to come out during the day to play for me. With all his late night appointments and visits to clubs, his lifestyle was far wilder than mine, and I was getting too old to keep up with him. 
I had no idea how he was doing it other than the fact that he slept through the day. 

On one particular evening I was reading a very intense book on anatomy from his bookshelves. I paused to think on it, leaving it open on my lap. I had closed my eyes, allowing my head to drop back against the chair, relaxing and pondering Quain’s Elements of Anatomy. Holmes had apparently come back from his adventures to find me in this state, and, unsure if I was asleep or unwell, walked closer to check on me. He moved so quietly I didn’t realise he was there, in fact, until I felt him very close upon me. He leaned down, touching my cheek ever so gently. I almost brushed his hand away, assuming something else entirely had landed on my cheek. It brought me out of my reverie and I heard his breathing. I was so surprised but had the sense to stay very still, not wanting to alarm him. He always seemed to be so jumpy. I had to admit I was eager to know what he was up to. I managed to keep my eyes shut and remained as still as I could. Much to my surprise, Holmes leaned down close and sniffed at my neck. 

“Did you just sniff me?” I finally mumbled. 

He stiffened. “I didn't realise you were awake.” 

I kept my eyes closed. “So… do you usually sniff me when I'm sleeping? Do you make a habit of sniffing all your flatmates when they're sleeping?” 

“Not usually.” 

“Is it something you've been doing when I sleep, though?” I asked. “Along with the violin playing?”

“Not usually, no.” 


“So…?” I opened one eye fully and glared at him.

“I was merely checking on your health.” 

“By sniffing me?” I opened both eyes to look at him now. “
I'm clearly behind on my journal reading.” 

“Whatever can you mean?” Holmes asked, looking a little taken aback.

“Well, I don't believe I've read the medical journal that discusses sniffing the pulse point to check on the health of one’s patient.”

“Watson,” he sighed heavily and walked away, with a dramatic eye-roll.

“Holmes,” I said, sitting up more properly and closing my book to give him my attention. “What's going on?” 

“I was simply concerned about your health and the fact that you might have dozed off while... while reading nonsense the likes of Richard Marsh.” 

“Ahhh… you’re a literary snob,” I smirked.

He gave me a withering glance.

“Well, the hour is late. I am not a night beast, such as yourself.”

“Beast?!” He recoiled in sudden offence and stormed to the kitchen. 

“It's simply a turn of phrase, Holmes. Because of the Marsh book. I was not suggesting that you were some kind of… 
What did I say?” I got up to follow him. 

“Nothing.” 

“Holmes, I was merely teasing. 
You need not be alarmed.”

“It is fine. I was simply walking past, and I was concerned, because you were so still… After the injury. I only…” 

“Besides,if you must know, I was reading Quain’s Elements of Anatomy – a much more taxing read and–” When I looked at him, I realised he looked genuinely flustered and concerned. “
Is everything all right, Holmes?” 

“I'm fine.” He lifted his chin defiantly. “I was simply checking that you were fine.” 

“I'm perfectly fine. You really need to stop worrying about me. It was just a scratch, Holmes.” 

“It wasn't just a scratch!” he burst out, slamming his hands on the counter.

“It was, Holmes! What on earth... what are you hiding?!” I cried back. 

“Nothing. Nothing!” he snapped angrily, keeping his back to me.

“I can't understand you. Every time I think we're gaining ground you... You behave strangely... it always comes back to that incident! To your over reaction. I need you to explain why you're so concerned. 
Is there something I should be aware of? Do you have some… some condition I'm unaware of? Are you concerned I might have contracted something… from you? Because I feel perfectly fine.” 

Well that was evidently the wrong thing to say as he immediately stiffened.

“I need to go out,” he said, squaring his shoulders. He turned and walked out of the kitchen to grab his coat.

“Let me come with you, Holmes. If you're going on another case. I'm happy to help. 
I quite enjoy myself, when we work together.” I followed him out to the lounge, grabbing my coat also.

“No, I…this isn't working,” he blurted out in a rush. 

“What?” I asked, already halfway dressed.

“This isn't working, Watson. It's not going to work. 
I need to work alone. That's what I'm used to. I think it would be best if you didn't come on our cases anymore.” 

“Holmes! It was one time, one incident. The other ones I've been on since haven't been a problem.” 


“Yes, but they were... They were insignificant cases. That other one was important, and your help was... necessary... But I can't have anything like that happen again. 
I simply can't. You were a distraction. You are. You are a distraction.” 

“How am I a distraction?” I asked, folding my arms angrily, to await his answer.

“I think…” He paused, looking at me as he assessed his options. “I think you should move out.” 

“What?! Now wait just a minute. Holmes… what is really going on here?” 

“This arrangement was a trial. It was hasty of me to invite you. 
I may have misspoken when I invited you to live here.” 

“Holmes.” Suddenly my heart was pounding in my chest. He would take that back. Surely he would. This was just an unfortunate disagreement. A misunderstanding.

“I have to visit my brother in the country.” 

“You hate your brother,” I said firmly. 

“Still, he requires my presence at our parents' home in the country. 
So I will be away for the weekend, and I suggest that you find other lodgings in that time, and, uh… I appreciate the work you have done. I will leave... remittance pay and return your bond, which will give you funds to find a suitable new place at such short notice. It has been a pleasure working with you, Doctor Watson. But we shall speak of this no further. 
Good day to you. If you’ll excuse me, Watson. I must run an errand.” 

“Holmes. Sherlock Holmes! What are you doing?!” 
I stood in shock for a moment before my feet would move, and then I chased him down the stairs. By the time I reached the street, he was nowhere to be seen. Vanished. The street was completely empty. 
He can't have moved that fast. It was simply impossible that he had completely disappeared. He must have had a carriage waiting, though I swear there was no sound of horses in the distance. 
I have no idea how he could have moved so fast. Something had spooked him. Something about the incident, something about my questions. Something I said had upset him, angered him enough to end the arrangement right then and there with no more discussion. I was completely dumbfounded.

I went back to the apartment in a state of shock and packed up my things in a complete daze. 
I did not hear Holmes return home, and he was certainly not present when I left. Though I waited, in hopes of speaking to him again, eventually, I had no choice but to leave. 
Thankfully, the apartments I had originally been staying in before I met him, still had a vacant room. Depressing though they were, at least it was familiar to me, and they were reasonably priced. True to his word Holmes had left me money - and more than he should have. 

I spent a great many days pondering what had gone wrong – from the days preceding the strange incident to the days leading up to his explosive behaviour, trying to make sense of them, but for both I came up empty. It was a puzzle I could not solve. What had started as a strange and uncomfortable beginning had slowly grown into something that had seemed to be going nicely. 
I could've sworn, with the intensity in those eyes and the way he looked at me sometimes, that there was something he wanted to tell me? I was certain he wanted to say more, to share something about himself which I desperately wanted to hear, and I think he knew I was open to knowing more about him. He was an enigma and I would have followed him anywhere. Perhaps that was what scared him away? 

Being allowed to go out and help him with some of his cases had been a fun adventure. We had even faced some risks in our short time working together. I would never have thought myself to be addicted to danger. 
And yet, it seemed to me that after returning from the war, I was beginning to miss the rush of adrenaline that it provided. My life lacked a lustre, which Sherlock Holmes had delivered in spades. Though we had, seemingly, shared relatively little time together, the sheer intrigue that his absences created, was enough to entertain me. While I would sit on my own in the apartment, wondering what he might be up to, the time passed surprisingly quickly. Because his sudden appearances made for sparks of colour in my day, which never failed to amuse, and excite me. 

Already, only days later, his absence was felt acutely. I had become miserable, morose even. I was left with no choice but to walk the streets at all hours of the evening, hoping he might be there. 
I went from tavern to tavern, hoping that perhaps, I might look up and see him across the room watching me. I missed those eyes on me. No one looked at me the way he did. But he was nowhere. 
Strangely, on more than one occasion, as I walked back to my flat, I was convinced that I was being followed. I would turn around, hoping to surprise him behind me, but there was no one there.

The link to AO3 for the rest of the pic

A huge thank you to @helloliriels for the stunning cover art created for #FTH2026

Thank you to all my lovely supporters who have read my writing before. Please let me know if you want me to remove you before the next part! Or if you’d like to be tagged

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