#fff247

Sherlock fandom

Big Brother’s Observations

Since the day I held Sherlock in my arms for the first time, I loved him fiercely and I instantly wanted to keep him out of harm’s way, whatever the cost. I was only seven years at the time, but I tried my best to keep my promise.

At first, it was easy. Child’s play, so to speak. He followed me with his eyes, always smiling, filling my chest with warmth and joy. When he learnt to walk, he never let me out of his sight. Where I went, he was close behind.

I taught him everything I knew about nature; biology, geology, meteorology, when we were outdoors, mathematics, languages, history, geography and logic reasoning when the weather was bad, and we stayed in Father’s library or in my room. He was like a sponge, and it became quite clear that he was above average intelligence; just like me.

However, there was a big difference in our personalities. Where I avoided other people, Sherlock couldn’t get enough of studying and talking to others. For a while… 

The other difference between us was sentiment. He was full of it, I was empty, apart from my undying love for my brother. I told him he would get hurt if he wasn’t on the alert. He was naïve and always thought every person was good and meant well. For a while…

***

My heart broke several times during the years, and in the centre of it was Sherlock. His tears and sobbing were unbearable to witness.

“Why do they hate me, Myc?” he cried so many times, I lost count.

“You must stop wearing your heart on your sleeve, Sherlock,” I told him. “Everyone will take the opportunity to hurt you if they know you’ll react like this. There doesn’t need to be a reason other than they want to see you cry. People are evil like that. Sentiment is never an advantage, brother mine.” 

He wouldn’t believe me. Not at first. It was a hard lesson for him, and I hated every single person who dared to give my brother such a difficult time, but finally he managed to put up an armour of indifference. I knew how much effort it was for him to maintain it, because I caught him more than once crying himself to sleep after the more trying days.

When he started university, the contact between us was sparse at best, but I kept my eyes on him of course. Alas, I was unable to foresee and stop his drug addiction before it was too late. By then he hated the sight of me, which broke my heart in a totally different way. He turned his back on the one person who wished him well. It was a blind spot he dealt with for years, put there by me.

***

I couldn’t believe my luck when Sherlock met Gregory Lestrade of New Scotland Yard. The detective saw Sherlock’s potential and promised him work if he got clean, which he achieved in record time.

Despite the trust Lestrade put in Sherlock, my brother didn’t trust him fully. The police wanted results, which Sherlock was able to give, but it ended there. Lestrade was no friend in Sherlock’s eyes. He just used Sherlock for work, nothing more. My brother failed to see that the detective cared for him outside of crime scenes. He didn’t even bother learning Lestrade’s Christian name.

***

I saw a crack in my brother’s armour the day he realised that John had killed a man to save his life, mere hours after they’d met. When I mentioned it, Sherlock waved it off as John’s need for danger, excitement and his military background, but I observed a second of insecurity. It vanished soon enough.

My instincts when I met John Watson for the first time, told me he could be just what my brother needed, or quite the opposite. His loyalty baffled me, but spoke volumes, and it increased for every passing day. He protected Sherlock just like I had done decades ago. I wasn’t entirely sure what to think of that. Of course, I wanted my brother to be cared for and kept safe from the criminals he recklessly chased through London, but it should be me doing that. Letting go and placing my trust in an ex-army doctor with PTSD and a passion for danger, wasn’t exactly what I preferred, but it seemed I didn’t have much saying in the matter. John Watson was Sherlock’s confidant and friend now, and I should be glad, but my treacherous heart ached for the loss of my brother’s trust and love.

When it became clear to me how John felt about Sherlock, I prayed to the universe to let Sherlock’s blind spot disappear. It had finally happened; there was a way for Sherlock to gain happiness and love after all, and perhaps his hostility towards me would dissipate a little if he felt content and loved. My prayers weren’t heard, and John was too scared to jeopardise their precious friendship to pursue the matter. 

***

I never dreamt of that an Irish criminal mastermind should be the answer. When Moriarty kidnapped John Watson and Sherlock realised he might lose John when he emerged with that bomb vest strapped to his chest at the pool, the blind spot instantly vanished. When the danger was over, John had proved that he would sacrifice himself so that Sherlock could live.

“My life isn’t worth living without you, John,” I heard Sherlock say in the surveillance video.

I had ushered my men out of the room and watched the scene alone. It was a private moment I didn’t want anyone else to witness, and I turned off the recording once I was sure both men were safe and had finally confessed their love.

My mission was far from over, but my faith in John’s capability to keep my brother as safe as possible, was absolute.

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Left Standing

The three brothers standing together, united in concern, as they looked over the hatching ground.

Their concern was not for their youngest brother, hoping to emulate his two older brothers who had impressed dragons at their first attempt, but for their eldest brother who had been a candidate twice but had been left bereft each time rejected by every hatchling.

"How do you think he'll react?" the only non-dragonrider asked

"If Allie impresses he'll be torn, happy for Allie but still wishing it was him instead"

The sadness in the voice, of the blue rider, only tempered by hope for the youngster on the hatching ground.

"If Allie doesn't impress he'll be just as torn, wanting to help Allie deal with the pain of rejection but perversely glad that he's not the only one of us to fail"

The matter ot fact tone of the brown rider's verdict barely masked the concern he felt for both siblings at the edge of hatching ground - one a candidate, the other a reluctant obverver.

Scott really didn't want to be here at today's hatching, but he had no real choice. Alan was finally (just) old enough to stand as a candidate, Scott could never deny his brother the chance to follow his dreams (even if it took his final brother away from him).

He'd been a candidate before and had been left standing twice as his 2 younger brothers both impressed at their first attempt.

John was now the rider of brown Giseth whilst Virgil had impressed blue Somurth. Scott still couldn't get used to their new Dragonrider names (J'on and V'gil), he was proud of both of them even though he still felt that he should have impressed as well.

Out of the five brothers only Gordon had turned away from the possibility of standing as a candidate for a dragon, he had chosen to try to become one of the new dolphineers instead, unable to resist the call of the sea.

Even though he would never admit it, even to himself, Scott was envious of his brothers, they knew what their futures held whilst all he had left was the knowledge that he'd failed to find his own path, the object of his dreams forever out of his reach as no dragon had chosen him (He wasn't going to stand again - he couldn't face the shame of being rejected by all the hatchlings for a third time)

The increase in intensity of the draconic hum brought Scott's attention firmly onto the scene at the hatching ground. The hopeful candidates, including his youngest brother, all nervously watching the 30 rocking eggs. All wondering which would hatch first, who would impress, who would be left standing.

Allie almost jumped as the first egg split with an audible 'crack', all the observers breathed a sigh of relief as the young dragonet streatched his long bronze neck before rushing towards his chosen mate.

A flurry of eggs cracked almost simultaneously, 3 browns, 3 blues and 5 greens all pushing their way past Alan on their way to their mates. The 2 bronzes in that flurry were a little more deliberate in their choices, chosing the boys either side on Allie.

A brief calm before the next flurry of eggs cracked, this time a small bronze discarded every other candidate before homing in on an ecstatic Allie, the watching siblings unable to hold back their cheers at the success of their baby brother, despite their concern about the reaction of eldest.

Scott watched as his youngest brother impressed, his head cheered for his brother's success while his heart broke.

His youngest brother had succeeded where he had failed, Scott now had to return home alone, what was his purpose now? His blind spot had always been his brothers, their needs and concerns always superseding his own dreams.

Scott turned to make his way out of the hatching ground, he couldn't let his melancholy affect the post hatching celebrations, the successful candidates deserved better than the failure that he'd become.

He didn't get far before he felt an overwhelming feeling of hunger, he didn't think that he'd ever felt so hungry before.

How could he suddenly feel so hungry?

Surely he hadn't forgotten to eat again, it wouldn't have been the first time but he was sure that he'd had breakfast - hadn't he?

"Scott"

He didn't turn at the sound of V'gils' voice, too lost in his feelings of failure and hunger to respond.

"Scott!"

He couldn't bring himself to respond to J'on either, he couldn't bear to face their sympathy - he didn't deserve it.

"SCOTT!"

He couldn't ignore Gordon's shout, why couldn't he be left alone with his misery?

He looked up towards his brothers standing on the upper edge

"What?"

The three brothers just smiled to each other before speaking at the same time

"Turn round"

Scott just shook his head, what game were they playing with him this time, was he to be in the receiving end of another (final) family joke.

"I'd better humour them" he thought to himself as he turned round

and came face to face with

"Don't you want me?"

Scott shook his head unwilling to believe the vision before him

"I'm hungry, don't you want me?"

Scott struggled to believe the voice in his head, the voice that belonged to the bronze hatchling that was before his eyes.

Scott dropped to his knees as he reached out towards the dragonet, the dragonet who had chosen him.

"I am yours"

Scott managed to say through tears of joy

"You are mine"

Every dragon and many of the riders heard the young dragon's determined statement

I think I missed the mark here, oops- But man have I been meaning to write more for this story, so thank you for the inspiring prompt @flashfictionfridayofficial!

For context, this is an Undertale AU fanfic following Kate (an OC detective in training) who has, up till now, spent a week trying to solve cases that her superiors had failed to solve in months.

Sins of Omission

I lightly tapped the spacebar on my computer, trying to remember what to put in the search bar. I switched tabs to the city's main conspiracy blog to see if I could find my inspiration. It had been a helpful distraction from my previous work to the point that it granted me an epiphany, if I could just remember what exactly I wanted to type...

A knock from the front door distracted me further, and I gave up all attempts at remembering my inquiry. It spurred me to check the time and I couldn't believe that it was a little past five, although a glimpse through the still open window provided me with a view of the setting sun. I frowned at the scene and ignored the mocking sight of week-old clippings and files, all mostly unchanged from when I first arranged them in the living room. It was proving a lot harder to find any helpful leads on the missing monster cases than. I don’t know who I thought I was to try and take it on---me, an academy recruit in training thinking that I could do better than seasoned detectives with numerous solved cases under their belt? It would be best to stop wasting time and hand the cases back to more experienced hands.

I shook my head vehemently at the thought. They had had their chance and had failed, and as much as I only had an increasingly credible conspiracy blog to work off, that’s a lot more to show for in the week I had the cases than in the months that the Police Department claimed to be handling them.

Another knock interrupted my thoughts and I considered ignoring it, the light from the screen calling for my attention. I dismissed the thought since I only got so many visitors. I gingerly got up from my cross-legged position on the carpet, hearing cracks along the way. I mused doing a few stretches before I go to bed today---if I go to bed today.

I opened the door to reveal a familiar orange hoodie clad skeleton. My face broke out into a grin as soon I saw him. “Pap!”

My previous woes left as I widened the door for him to come in. He did so without a second thought, giving me a smile as he passed me before stopping in his tracks almost immediately. After closing the door, I stood next to him to see what gave him pause. A glance at the room before us petrified me.

The house was a mess.

Newspaper clippings were either pasted on the walls and floor or hanging from strings stuck to the ceiling of the living room, all connected with red rope and pushpins. What used to be a couch for lounging was now covered in more papers, these ones of pictures of possible suspects and the appearances of the missing persons. The grey, fuzzy carpet, which had hence become a safety hazard due to the fallen box of pins was somehow still used as seating while the glass coffee table atop it held cartons of reports and statements alongside mugs of coffee and empty cans of energy drinks. Plates and containers of what had held Sans’ heavenly packed lunches were stacked in the sink in the adjacent kitchen while the bin overflowed with Muffet’s packaging. And that was only what could be seen. I winced at the thought of the laundry hamper in the bathroom and the state my bedroom might be in. Did I make my bed today?

I heard chuckles beside me and I looked anywhere but in his direction, embarrassed that I’d let him see me in this state. It was then that I realised that I was still in my One Direction pyjamas from this morning. I died on the inside as he started snickering.

“And I thought Sans was messy. You tryna beat his record or something?”

I wrapped my arms around myself, no longer feeling happy about his arrival. “I uh… I’ve been busy.”

At my lacklustre response, he nudged my shoulder, trying to get me to look at him. “Hey, at least Sans always has someone to help him out when he’s busy.”

At the softness in his voice, I look up at him in surprise, only to find that he wasn't beside me anymore and was instead in the open kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie.

“What are you doing?” I ask slowly as I approach him.

“Chores. What better way for us to hang out?”

I snorted at his response before realisation dawned on me. “Shoot! We were supposed to hang out today! I am so sorry!”

“Eh. Don’t sweat it.” He waved away my apologies with a sudsy gloved arm. “You were busy.”

I watched him scrub at a plate, still feeling guilty for missing our hangout, still trying to comprehend that he was doing the dishes. It never occurred to me that he would do them at all with perfectionist Sans around, less so for other people. Voluntarily even. I tried grabbing a sponge and helping him out, but he shooed me away with a flick of bubbles.

“Nope. Go back to your pc, or better yet, take a break.”

I squirmed on the spot behind him, feeling entirely weird over this situation.

“Why are you doing this?” I finally asked.

Backs Turned, Victory

Characters (povs): Cleo, Scott, Martyn

Wc: 1000

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt 247, “Blind Spot” - late, but better than never.

Ao3: Here!

Only Cleo and Scott remained. Honestly, Cleo never thought she’d be one of the last two. The closest she ever got was in Double Life, in fourth place. Did that technically count as second place, considering the soulmate dynamics?

But now there were no technicalities. No other person who shared her life. Her team made it to the end. Sadly, Pearl had to go. The triple Gs couldn’t all win.