#shecriminal

you can feel the trickle of blood running down your nose . warm sticky and uncomfortable . you wake up in a dark room , hands tied behind your back . immediately you realize someone has removed your firearm and ankle blade.

Even crunched up and thrown across the room, the words echo in her mind, taunting her as she draws her knees to her chest, eyes staring at the little ball of paper as if she could set it on fire by dint of her will alone. The deadlocked battle stretches on, hours slipping by as Sherlock stays impossibly still, glowering at the small message, until her head jerks, finally breaking that gaze. The front door of the flat has opened; Watson is home.

Quick as lightning, Sherlock is almost tumbling out of her seat, all legs and arms. In the doorway to the room, she stops, turning back. She crosses to the closet, fetches a worn shoebox, and then goes back to that ball of paper. Picks it up. Smooths it out. Adds it to the pile notes in the box, which goes back in the closet. Then she’s clattering down stairs to see Watson.

𝖨𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 – 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝗒. The possibilities of what you can know are, of course, endless, and so are the uses of the little phrase. Aziraphale picked it up and tailored it to the one thing he always knew when he saw, and saw when he knew: evil.  Spooky. What gives you the heebie-jeebies. He did not need to actually see it (or she, or him, or they) to know. When he knew, he knew –hence the use of the phrase. This time, he’d known over the phone.

It had all aligned rather ineffably, he must admit. For when it rang, it had been the one in seventeen odd times he deigned to pick up, and he had picked up on it almost immediately. “Good evening”, she’d said, and something had definitely ticked. She asked about an appointment and, in all both angelical and reputable businessman duty, he picked up his (empty, except for the regular manicure on the twentieth) planner and assigned her one. Best to be in on whatever it is she may be up to, and foil from within!

By the time the appointment came he had almost forgotten about it entirely (he’d scheduled it with enough time to purposely do so), and only remembered the terrible importance and itching curiosity of it when the doorbell rang. Merely opposing curiosity, of course. To see if it was in any way demonic or all her own. It was the sort of thing he also knew, when he knew. The six thousand years or so of observing, you see.

With his best ‘unsuspecting, very reliable and most certainly trustworthy to discuss any potentially ilegal matter’ smile, perfected since the first world war just for this sort of occasion, he greeted her.      “ How do you do? Miss, erm, Adler, is it? ”

did you???  ahhh!   honestly i’m just so glad you like that??? it’s so fun and everyone deserves a squad of criminal ladies in their lives,  right??? 💖💖💖

Dream Daddy Starters ┊ACCEPTING

    This was a bad idea, a very bad idea indeed. But Molly afforded herself so few bad ideas that she couldn’t bring herself to feel too terribly guilty at present. Perhaps the wine had a small part to play in that…

“Cheers!” She said chipper and clearly determined to commit to this little drinking binge despite full well knowing it would end poorly.