Made them into keychains :DDD
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Made them into keychains :DDD

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Does anyone ever had a dream about Andrew Scott, where he is a security at a museum, or is it just me and my dark consciousness.
Some of my Sherlock artwork (painted with tea) for sale at the teahouse I used to work
moriarteaâ

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New cover art for the published book, Moriartea by Akosiibarra! :D
This is hands down my favorite one that Iâve done so far! Hope Iâll get my copy of the book soon.
My Enemyâs Woman - Request
Requested by anon:Â I would love to read your version of Moriarty becoming interested in the reader (either sexually or just typical Moriarty) and Sherlock gets upset and protective because she's his girlfriend/fiancĂŠ/wife. Flirting, Innuendos, and everything that makes Moriarty the beautiful human that he is
Pairing: Sherlock x reader / Moriarty flirting with reader.
Word count: 1,132
Warning: Sexual innuendos.
A/N: Jim is such a complex character... Feedback is highly appreciated, guys!
Enjoy!
Sherlock had never run faster in his whole life. Not even the pouring rain could stop him; no matter how much he slipped, he would get up and continue to run. The people around him would either move to the side, freeing the way, or be pushed by him. He had to get back to 221B.
The fear, the anxiety, the nerves got over him, taking over the bit of control he had of himself and his own emotions. His hands, forehead and armpits were sweating and his heart was beating faster â and no, it had nothing to do with his current running marathon â without mentioning the fact that he was looking paler than usual.
He was human, after all, and knowing that the one person who could get him to feel, to embrace his humanity, could be in mortal danger was more than enough for him to forget about everything else and act like a regular person would. If it had been someone else, except for John of course, he wouldâve acted as chill as possible; but it was (Y/N) and there was no time to play-pretend when it came to her.
It was just one text message, a very simple and annoyed one that made him lose all control. She had sent it, or so it seemed, because Sherlock received it from her phone. It couldâve been a trap, or worse, but that didnât matter because Sherlock would become even more reckless when she was involved.
If he exploded, if he got murdered, or trapped or kidnapped, it didnât matter. As long as she was safe⌠he would go to the end of the world and sacrifice himself to the Gods if necessary.
His fear was such that his whole body turned off the physical sensations, and so he didnât notice the muscular exhaustion that was caused by him crossing London by foot in less than ten minutes. He also didnât feel the scrapes on his knees and elbows, as well as that little twist in his ankle. No, all he could focus on was saving (Y/N).
Moriartea Thatâs what people drink