#outside observer

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sherlock Holmes Chapter One (Video Game), Sherlock Holmes: The Awakened (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Jonathan (Sherlock Holmes Chapter One) Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mentions of Barnes, mentions of Mycroft Additional Tags: Unrequited Love, Unrequited something idk, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Feelings, Takes place before and during the awakened, POV John Watson, Yes Awakened 2023 I saw when you made the subtitles say "Jon", Boys Kissing, Regret, Sleepy Kisses, Sherlock/Jon is in the past, spoilers for chapter one, Spoilers for the Awakened 

Watson couldn’t help but be interested in Sherlock Holmes. The intellect, the arrogance, the wit, even the 3 am chemistry experiments. 

But especially, he was interested in the distance. It was obvious that Holmes enjoyed his presence. It was even more obvious he was keeping himself away from friendship. Any kind of companionship seemed to elude him. He only went out for clients, only spoke to clients, the police, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft if he let him, Watson. Holmes’ social circle was but four fingers on Watson’s hand and he wasn’t sure he could even count half of them. 

Watson dared to ask about this, once. 

“Have you any friends in town, Holmes?” *********************************************************************************************************************************** Posted for the November 2025 FW Sherlock Holmes Fanweekend

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6ZjMWLqJvM -- Anon Guest

The Archivaas are primarily Human. One of the few sects of Human obsession that made hoarding work for them. They will, like most Humans, adopt anyone who shares their compulsion. Compulsions are not always healthy, but the Archivaas work hard to make theirs as healthy as possible.

Always be wary of an order capable of re-ordering entire solar systems so they can store their collections. They're very capable of being dangerous if their minds ever turn away from collecting things and towards combat. Even the Vorax don't mess with the Archivaas, reasoning correctly that they only look like harmless collectors in their brown robes, and there has to be something hazardous under that soft veneer[1].

Thuul was not the first Havenworlder to join the Archivaas, but they were one of the first to enter the Terran archives to view and catalogue some material that had only been categorised on the cursory level. Animation is not a genre, despite many viewing it as such, and the mistake of assuming all animated material is for children[2] is one that the Archivaas are well aware of.

“been trying to get you guys to see me for a while now.”

pairings: destiel, saileen

words: 986

angst 

--

Eileen has always been a fighter. That’s why she’s made it all these centuries in hell. That’s why she’s not broken, not all the way. That’s why she’s in the middle of a dusty road on a Sunday, hauling ass. 

It was dark in hell until the heavens opened up. She’d have never thought to call the earth above her any sort of heaven when she was alive, but as she’d hefted her form from the pit and she’d seen the blue of the sky, and the green of Sam’s eyes, that was all the proof she needed to understand that heaven was a place on earth. 

She’d tried to hitch a ride in the Impala out of the graveyard, but the spell work on the damn thing wouldn’t let her in. In her desperation to escape, she’d taken matters into her own hands. 

So that’s how she finds herself, a mile out from the bunker and running like hell. From hell. 

The Impala had rumbled past her on the road not long before and she knows she needs to reach the bunker before its supernatural wardings are closed and she can’t enter. 

She convinces herself to run faster, desperately wishing her toes could dig into the dirt below.

The run is taking up all of her power, but her draw towards Sam is enough. It’s like he’s her connection to this world, and she’s not letting that go. 

When she reaches the door of the bunker, it’s nearly shut. She slips through the sliver still open and fades into the background, keeping her distance. She’s only been out of hell for a few days now, and after using all her energy to get her to this safe place, she knows she won’t be able to show herself to the brothers, and Cas, for some time. 

She’s not sure if it’s just the overwhelming nature of earth or experiencing all of this in a new form, but the air in the bunker is thick. 

If you could feel tension, Eileen imagines, this is what it would feel like. 

Sam’s eyes are watering and she can see the effort he’s putting into steadying his breathing. She mourns the ability to wipe the tears away from his cheeks.

Dean is quiet, he’s near Castiel, almost too close, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d think they were together. Neither of them speaks, they simply stand, unwavering, as Sam excuses himself from the room. She wishes she could follow, but she’s settled into a chair in the library and there’s no way she has the energy to stand now. 

She notes how Castiel angles himself towards Dean, as if expecting something, but the elder Winchester simply turns away with military accuracy and follows Sam. 

Eileen can feel the longing of the angel’s grace as Dean exits the room, and, after a time, he does the same, heading to some other, unknown room in the expanse of this safe haven. 

Some time passes before Eileen is waking back up to the low light in the library. The air is lighter now, easier to move in, so she adjusts her arms and places her elbows onto the shiny wood table in front of her. She watches the dance of Dean pouring himself two fingers of whiskey (Sam always complained to her about how much Dean drank) and bringing the crystal glass to his lips. 

The air becomes unbearably heavy when Castiel appears at the edge of the space. She can see Dean’s muscles tense for a moment before he completes his movement. 

Glass to lips. 

Whiskey to tongue. 

Heart to floor. 

“How’s Sam?”

Sam had always said that Dean could be harsh, but more than anything, he loves his family, will protect them to the point of hurting. 

This doesn’t feel like the Dean that Sam described. 

This is cold and shut off and walls building that Eileen swears she could reach out and dig into with a pick-ax. 

“The plan changed, Dean--” 

As an observer, she wants to stay partial, but Eileen is a hunter first and foremost. 

She wishes she could scream at Dean that even the first time they met, something went wrong. 

The angel is right, something always does. 

She can feel the weight of shame pulse off of Dean’s body after he snaps with a “Why does that something always seem to be you?” 

How could Castiel possibly be to blame for everything? 

She sees the frantic shake of Dean’s eyes, she feels the wobble of Castiel’s voice, she knows the brokenness in both of their souls, and she can’t--

She can’t do anything. 

“I think it’s time for me to move on.” 

She wants to shake Dean by his shoulders and tell him to fight. 

She wants to grab onto Castiel’s ankles and pull him back from the stairs and tell him not to leave.

She wants to stand between them, hands pressing into their chests and pour out her own heart, demanding to know why they would throw away something so solid and beautiful and real when she and Sam never got the chance. 

But she can’t. 

So, she watches from her seat at the table as Castiel retreats. She feels that same longing she felt from Castiel earlier, pulling from Dean’s soul. 

With all her pent up anger and passion and pure emotion, she flickers into existence for just a moment and she almost has her chance to cry out-- but in that split second, Dean is suddenly turning to fill up his glass and she’s snapping back into the chaos of the air. 

She breaks. 

She wishes she could hold onto something to ground herself right now. She wishes she could cry-- full, beautiful tears-- but her lungs are nothing. Her tears, nothing. Her heart, nothing. Her body, nothing.