“You’ve made your point,” John says. “He doesn’t notice me. Doesn’t care, all right? Let. Me. Go.” He sounds much more confident that he feels. He’s hungry and cold and he’s slept poorly all week.
“But we need to know!” Jim’s eyes widen. “We’ve established that you’re forgettable. The question is, how long will it take before Sherlock Holmes notices you’re gone? When will he begin to wonder where you are? Will it be the rent payment that brings it to his attention? Will your landlady be worried? And what about your alcoholic sister? Will she call?”
Part 7 of the More Words series, this one is for lovely reader CocoCrispian 💕
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Summary: Back in London, Sherlock reminisces about the two years that have passed by so quickly. The large tree at Trafalgar Square makes him think back to the one they lit in Arboreta Combe the previous week. He's so lost in thought and startles when a familiar voice nearby interrupts his introspection.
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He’s never without his, it’s true,
So Sherlock and John need some, too.
Each one comes with a sword
In case something untoward
Should ever befall or ensue.
'Tis a Gift is on AO3.
I wonder if you think you know
What gift that could be? Well, if so,
Please share it with me
And fill me with glee
By putting your guess down below!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Jefferson Hope, Greg Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson (Sherlock Holmes), Molly Hooper, Philip Anderson, Mycroft Holmes
Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Canon Divergence - A Study in Pink, Choices, POV Sherlock Holmes, Happy Ending
Summary:
Everything you do– or don’t do– has consequences.
Does the great Sherlock Holmes have regrets?
*******************************
This is a lovely surprise! I’m always thrilled to see a new story from this author.
in re conversations that thankfully seem to be occurring only on other sites, i actually love when the fiction i'm reading uses words i don't know and have to look up! admittedly it does not happen often, because i am an adult who read a lot as a kid and has since done what is frankly maybe a bit too much education, but please do casually drop words like phalanstery in your book so i have to look it up and then find myself reading wikipedia pages about 19th century socialist utopianism! please do throw around rare plants and birds whose names i don't know because they're not native/common anywhere i've ever been! then i get to look at pictures of things that i've never seen before!
I know I’m a loyal person. At least toward people who deserve my loyalty. After our first meeting in the lab at Barts, I didn’t consider that I’d be so committed to Sherlock as I became. Not to this extent. It frightens me sometimes, to be honest.
“You are quite loyal very fast,” Mycroft remarked when we first met. (When he abducted me, to be correct)
I puzzled him, and very few people were able to do that. Anyway, I passed the test and was “allowed” to move into 221B Baker Street.
God, I was so pissed off with him.
He was not the only one who irritated me, but he was Sherlock’s family, so mostly I let it slide.
When Sherlock brought me along to our first crime scene together, I was too stunned to speak my mind to the other yarders. Sherlock’s intellect had already amazed me profoundly, but when he listed all the things he observed from the pink clad woman on the floor, I was blown away, and there was no force in the world that could’ve silenced my praise.
“You know you are saying that out loud, yes?” he asked when I’d uttered the second ‘fantastic’.
I blushed and excused my behaviour; after all, we were standing around a murdered person. He brushed it away and said it was fine. It was evident that he’d never heard the words before. Not directed at him, at least, which I found incredibly sad.
So, when Sergeant Donovan warned me about him afterwards and referred to him as The Freak once more, I made up my mind.
***
As a doctor, I never believed in the label Sherlock put on himself as a sociopath. Granted, I am no psychiatrist, but I know he has empathy for (a few) people around him. Mrs Hudson is a good example.
When I first met her, she opened her arms to Sherlock, and he willingly hugged her as if she was a beloved family member. There was nothing artificial about it. It was genuine affection.
That said, he drove her mad fairly often, but the few details they both let slip about her past, told me that she was used to all sorts of ruckus and shenanigans. She needed excitement in her life just as much as we did.
Angelo is another one of Sherlock’s devoted fans, and Sherlock tolerates the gushing, and the teddy bear hugs admirably. It’s easy to discern that he feels relaxed in the Italian’s company, and his mask of indifference vanishes completely. I find it utterly fascinating to watch.
***
I was much more prepared at the next crime scene some weeks later.
Sherlock found nearly half a dozen clues in under one minute that had escaped the police. Both Anderson and Donovan mocked him and told everyone willing to listen that he made it all up to sound interesting. He didn’t bother to reply but kept the deductions coming. Luckily, Lestrade took notes and told the others to keep their mouth shut. They didn’t.
I decided to intervene and took a step toward them both, crowding them so they had to step back a few feet.
“What the hell?” they asked in unison.
I lowered my voice, which I knew was far more effective than yelling. By this point, my subordinates from the army would’ve realised that the best way forward was to keep mum and agree to everything I told them. Of course, Anderson and Donovan weren’t that clever. They both perceived me as non-threatening, a lap dog. Big mistake.
“If you two continue to call Sherlock Freak and to ridicule his deductions, you’d better watch your backs. The ice under your feet is about to crack real soon if this doesn’t stop.”
“Are you threatening a police officer, Doctor Watson?” Donovan asked in her normal condescending tone.
“That’s right, Sergeant.”
“We will report you to the Superintendent!” Anderson exclaimed in a high-pitched voice which hurt my ears.
“Please do. There are enough witnesses who have heard you two harass Sherlock every chance you get,” I said calmly.
“As if he’s not offending us,” Sally scoffed.
“Oh, I know he does. But he’s not the one starting it, is he? He only replies accordingly. I assume you’d done the same if you were in his shoes. Most people would. You should be ashamed of yourselves, acting like teenagers instead of adults. Grow up, for goodness’ sake!”
“But I – “
“Shut up, Anderson! He is summoned by your commanding officer, and he solves every case you lot are unable to. Surely, that should be enough for you to keep your thoughts about him to yourselves. Without him, dozens of criminals would still walk the streets of London. Feel free to correct me if you think I’m wrong.”
And with that, I walked away from them and stood a little closer to Sherlock than normal. He didn’t seem to mind one bit; he was practically beaming at me.
“Dinner?” he asked after he’d lifted the police tape for me.
“Starving,” I replied.
“Is Angelo’s, okay?”
“God yes!”
***
Neither of us made a big thing out of it when our hands brushed, and our fingers entwined a few moments later; it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Apparently, Angelo discerned that something had changed between us, but he didn’t remark on it. He just fetched a candle, lit it, and went to get us a bottle of wine on the house.
To my astonishment and delight, we reached for the other’s hand once we had removed our coat and jacket. A voice in my head told me I was on thin ice starting a romantic relationship with the slightly mad world’s only consulting detective, but I told it, in no uncertain terms, to stop bothering me. I was fine. It was all fine. More than fine, in fact.
Summary: John has finally taken the leap, and decides to direct his stories at a new audience. He is sceptical before the meeting with his new editor at Mike's pub, and when the young woman walks into The Dragon Slayer, John invents an emergency and flees the place.
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sometimes I’m reminded that there are still people who don’t know ao3 was literally created by incest shippers — and the site’s sole purpose is to 1. be completely against censorship and 2. host all kinds of dark, taboo fics that are banned on other platforms — and the first ever fic that was posted on ao3 was a fic about an incest ship from supernatural.
you are in the house that was created by freaks. for freaks (affectionate). every disgusting thing you can think of is rightfully allowed and welcomed on ao3, because they are exactly the reasons why ao3 was created in the first place.
ao3 was created because its creators got tired of censorship, they got tired of dark and taboo fics getting banned on pro-censorship platforms, and they wanted a place that was safe for ALL FICS THAT WERE DARK AND TABOO.
ao3’s main principle is being against censorship and being proship / profic.
there are some things in fiction that make me uncomfortable, but instead of shaming people who are just minding their own business and not harming anyone in real life, I choose to curate my own internet experience by blocking/muting what I don’t want to see. ao3 has excellent tagging system, so instead of being a bitch, use their tagging system properly and you won’t see the things you don’t want to see.
it’s your job to curate what you see. it’s not other people’s jobs or responsibilities to censor themselves for your personal comfort. the world does not revolve around you.
also you cannot censor “only the things you personally hate” without expecting everything else, that isn’t of conservative beliefs, to be censored too. because censorship is a slippery slope and a fascist tool. I promise you there are people who think “why do tags for queer love even exist on ao3? they’re grooming children”.
if you allow the things that you hate to be censored — because someone with enough power gets to control what other people can and cannot create/consume, it will not stop at the things that you hate.
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“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 the More Words series, this one is for lovely reader CocoCrispian 💕
