#violetjersey

Sherlock/Molly Manips Part 4 

These are for you to use all I ask is that you please give credit to this blog. Read through the important info tag for more info (remember that this is not a self contained gifset, ok so you can probably see a pattern here, but the point still stands, you can use these gifs separately or as a set, you can pick from any of the gifs on this blog)

I want GIFs of Diana talking to Matthew & Sarah in her white spaghetti top & tiny denim shorts! Seriously no wonder Matthew can't resist her anymore -- Mama's looking fine AF

Obviously she is a very beautiful woman even in her very casual pyjamas but there’s no additional Matthew to gif in that scene to the one I’ve already posted

“You’re crying over a puppy.”

Nothing surprised John Watsonanymore. Not since he learned his best friend and consulting partner in crimesolving of seven years, Sherlock Holmes, was not only very much a doting andconsiderate boyfriend, despite everything he’d ever thought about him, he’dknocked up his girlfriend – the pathologist Molly Hooper he’d once dismissed asbeing shy until one weekend he was forced to stay in his old bedroom – andmoved her into their formerly shared flat.

After one had stumbled uponall of that, surprise was a luxury John feared he’d never feel again.

He’d done his best to supportthe expecting parents, offering advice where he deemed necessary. Sherlock wascoping well, accompanying Molly to appointments and enduring visits from herless than impressed ‘traditional’ mother; the army doctor made sure to staywell away that uncomfortable evening. Oh, Sherlock’s lot were ecstatic and lavishingMolly as if she were carrying the next Messiah (apparently even Eurus hadcracked a smile.)

This particular evening, John lethimself into the hallway and immediately knew something was wrong. The signatureBelstaff was missing from its stand which had toppled over in haste – therewouldn’t have been cause for concern if it wasn’t for the faint sound of despairedwailing coming from the upstairs dwelling. Given the fact that there were atleast four months left before the birth of Sherlock and Molly’s baby, Johndecided it was for the best to investigate.

“Sherlock?”

John pushed open the door tothe flat, squinting in the darkness; he crossed the room carefully, fumblingfor the lamp. Dim light flooded the flat, illuminating the dishevelled figurehunched over on the sofa.

“What the-“

“Hi, John,” Sherlock sniffed,lifting his head to smile weakly at his friend; his voice was thick withemotion, his eyes were red, hair a mess and shirt half unbuttoned. Frankly,John had never seen the detective looking so unkempt. Even during his relapse,he looked in better shape. It was then that John noticed the snoozing creaturecurled in Sherlock’s lap.

“You’re crying over a puppy.”

Sherlock sniffed again, rustlingthe note in his hands, “Molly left me.”

“What?”

“She left me!” The consultingdetective waved a hand wildly, reaching for a half-full bottle of whiskey on thecoffee table, succeeding in his third attempt, and took a large gulp of theliquid. John tried not to notice just how many bottles were strewn about the room.

“Where did the puppy come from?”He asked, sounding far too much like a father for his liking. Sherlock stood, hisnew friend falling from his lap with a yelp, and staggered over to their drinkscabinet much to John’s horror, “and where the hell are your trousers?”

“That’s what you’re worriedabout?” Sherlock slurred, whirling about and nearly spilling the entire contentsof the god-awful sherry Mycroft had gifted them at some point. He swigged fromthe bottle, most of it missing his mouth, “what about Molly? She left me. Took my baby with her.”

John snatched the alcoholsoaked note and read aloud, a frown on his face, “’Sherlock, I’m off to my Mum’s. We’ll talk about it when I get back.Love, Molly.’”

“See?” He gestured, once moresloshing various liquids everywhere. He choked out a sob, pathetically reachingfor John and falling heavily onto his shoulder, “it’s over.”

With great effort, Johnmanaged to lower Sherlock into his chair until he was slumped over, still clutchingthe sherry bottle. The army doctor massaged his forehead, wrestling the bottleout of his grasp.

“Help me out here, Sherlock.What did you do after Molly left?”

Sherlock scoffed, “I wentskiing, moron.”

“Where are your bloody trousers?”John practically spat through gritted teeth – he was more than at the end ofhis tether. In fact, he was on the brink of hurling the drunken git out of thewindow.

“I don’t know,” Sherlock saidslowly, leaning forwards in his chair; he attempted to rest his head on hishead, missing several times. John rolled his eyes, but waited for the detectiveto continue, “the dog has them. At the place,” he clicked his fingersrepeatedly, trying to get his usually sharp mind to work again, “the place thatwas cold and the dog…”

“You exchanged your trousers forthe puppy?”

“YES!” He cheered triumphantly,pointing dramatically at the doctor, “yes, she was happy, very happy. Lots of cameras,” Sherlock frowned, staring into spacefor several moments. Suddenly, he shook his head, “nevermind, another mysterysolved, Hercules. The foot is a game!”

He was fast asleep not asecond later, snoring open mouthed slumped in his chair. John blinked repeatedly,unsure of what to do for quite some time. He retrieved a blanket and threw itover his flatmate and set a glass of water on the table. He was definitely goingto need it in the morning.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.”

The usually sweet, delicatewords were grating and harpy-like in his extremely hungover state; Sherlockgroaned heavily, clutching his head. His attempts to sit up failed and hereached blindly for the glass of water he knew was there. He drained the glassin seconds, opening one eye to find the love of his life smiling down at him. Hispain was momentarily replaced with utter joy.

“You came back?”

Molly chuckled, folding herarms, “Sherlock, do you remember what we were fighting about?” He frowned,shaking his head ever so slightly. Molly, once again, laughed light-heartedly, “youidiot, it was a silly spat. You wanted to name the baby Strychnine after yourfavourite poison.”

Sherlock managed to lifthimself into a more comfortable position, his muscles aching after being in thesame spot all night. Still, he managed a smile, “so, you’re not mad?”

“No…” she said, handing himthe cup of coffee she held in her hand, “I think you’ve punished yourself enough.”

He sipped the sweet drink gratefully,humming happily, “what makes you say that?”

Molly grinned, “wait until yousee the paper.”

“Why’s there a pregnancy test in thetrash?”/ “I warned you. He warned you. Your freaking mom warned you.”

“…Why’s there a pregnancy testin the bin?” Molly asked, looking down into said bin at a boxthat looked like a bear had ripped it open.  There were eventeethmarks.

“Experiment.”

“You don’t say,” she saidflatly.  "That’s not apple juice, is it?“  In her favouriteglass, of course, the authentic midcentury one with thepixie-on-a-toadstool motif.

“Some of it is.”

“I don’t know if that’s better orworse.”

Hi dear!

7. A graphic you didn’t like but posted anyway

I don’t post anything that I don’t like how it looks. If I don’t like it myself, how can I expect people to like it?

But well, I can think in one gifset that I wasn’t comfortable posting but I did it for… reasons. I mean, the gifs looked ok but the inspiration… just wasn’t there.

8. List 5 graphic makers you enjoy seeing graphics from

I don’t like to pick people!! It’s so hard, so unfair…  But, I don’t want to leave you without an answer so, these are my choices:

@mel-loves-all @benedictc @kstewmanipulation @mas-sera-o-benedict and @mouseymodesty 

However, everyone must know that if i reblog any gifset, graphic, manip, edit is because I enjoy them, ok? All of them!! (I hate picking!!)

12. Do you prefer making gifs or edits? Why?

Gifs. I did edits, and I might do it again, but I’m just not so good on them. I have so much to learn about gifs, but on editing pics I’m way behind.

Thank you for asking!!!

From this drabble list.

54 & 62: “Why’s there a pregnancy test in the trash?” / “I warned you. He warned you. Your freaking mum warned you.”

"I warned you, Sherlock," Molly sighed. Mycroft sat on the sofa, legs crossed at the ankle and his fingers twirling his umbrella. Molly gestured to him. "He warned you. Your mum warned you, for heaven's sake. And she's the most tolerant woman I've ever met."

"It takes a lot for her to anger, Sherlock," Mycroft said, his voice softening for only a moment.

"I was only acting as a caddy," Sherlock hissed, wincing as he shifted in his armchair, holding his bicep. Molly worried at her bottom lip, then shook her head, folding her arms at her waist, hugging herself. "For heaven's sake, it was only a graze."

"Of a bullet," Mycroft reminded him, stern once more. "The job risks involved with being a golfing caddy do go up slightly when caddying for an internationally known crime boss, dear brother."

And here you go! I apologize to you, @starlight-falls and @stlgeekgirl for the feels in this. I had not intended it to be ansty but it ran away from the prompt you had originally claimed.

--

The Past, Unburied (A “Love Is Like” Story) -When Sherlock mentions his mother is coming to Baker Street to pay them a visit, Molly teases it's to embarrass him with childhood photographs and stories. The mood turns more somber, however, when Sherlock reveals his memory of his childhood is not as clear as his other memories are and that leads to a startling revelation: Sherlock has a sister he had forgotten existed.

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“My mum is paying us a visit,” Sherlock said when Molly was preparing dinner not too long after she had finally settled into Baker Street.

“When?” she asked warily. The fact he was dropping this on her like a bomb meant it was going to be a rather sudden visit, she knew. Not that she didn’t adore his mum; Christmas had been lovely and she had been wondering if there would be an occasion that Sherlock would consider seeing her and his father again. As long as it wasn’t tonight, though, she supposed she would be okay.

“Tomorrow evening,” he said, and she let out a sigh of relief. “I had mentioned you had moved in temporarily and the reason why and she seemed to think it was a shame you had lost so many precious memories, and then she said she was going down on the train and hung up.”

“You know what that means in mum speak, right?” Molly said with a smile. He gave her a confused look and shook his head. “There will be in her possession any number of embarrassing photographs of you and she will be quite willing to share all the embarrassing stories about you that she has.”

“I thought she did that at Christmas,” he grumbled.

“No, there wasn’t time,” she said. She had a smile on her face when she turned to look at him, but she saw he had a rather faraway look on his face. “Sherlock?”

“I’d rather tomorrow be about anything else,” he said.

“Why?” she asked.

He was quiet for a moment, looking at the glass of water he’d been holding in his hands. “My memories of my childhood are not as clear as my memories of other times in my life. Even in a drug induced haze, there’s a clarity there that my childhood memories lack.”

She stopped preparing the dinner and then moved closer to him. “Do you think something might have...happened? Something you don’t want to remember?”

“I suppose it’s possible,” he said. “I suppose anything is possible.” He set his glass down and reached over for her hand, running his thumb across her knuckles. “There were moments when my childhood was good, I suppose. When my family acted like a proper family. But there were more times when it was all abnormal. Where it seemed as though it was...off. As though something should have been a part of it that wasn’t.”

“Maybe someone?” Molly suggested. “Sherlock, have you ever looked at pictures from your childhood?”

He shook his head. “Nothing from before the age of eight. I know they exist, but I’ve never seen them.”

“Maybe you should ask your mum about them,” she said. “Ask her to bring those photographs too.”

He nodded. “I’ll call her now,” he said, bringing her hand up to kiss the back of it before letting go and reaching for his mobile in his pocket.

When he went to the bedroom to make his call she gave him his privacy and went back to making their evening meal. It wasn’t until it was nearly ready to be served that she realized it had been quite a while and he hadn’t come back out. He could still be on the phone but she thought she ought to check. She went there and opened the door, seeing the mobile on the bed and Sherlock cross-legged on the floor, his head tilted back. “Sherlock?”

“Eurus,” he said quietly. “I have a younger sister named Eurus.”

Her eyes widened slightly and she came into the room, sitting next to him. He reached over for her, pulling her close, and she wrapped her arms around his waist and let him burrow his head into the crook of her neck. “What happened?”

“She burnt our home down when I was very young. She was considered a danger and my uncle took her away,” he said quietly. “I don’t remember any of this.”

“Were you in the home when it caught fire?” she asked, almost afraid to hear his answer. He didn’t answer verbally, simply nodding, and then she felt it make more sense. His sister had most likely tried to kill him. That would be a reason to blot things out of his memory. “Do you know where she is now?”

“Mycroft does,” he said. “He’s taken over her care from my uncle. My parents tried, at first, but it overwhelmed them. She’s a genius, like most of the family, but more so. And they are afraid of her. Afraid of what she’s capable of. He tells them how she is doing, but it’s best if she’s left alone, he says. She still...has urges.”

Molly nodded, beginning to stroke his hair back. Oh, this explained so much. To be told he was a high-functioning sociopath when there was some with psychopathic tendencies in the family, and hear how his family changed in how they treated him. To know something wasn’t right almost his entire life and not know what it was. For his parents to worry so. For Mycroft to pull his “Big Brother is watching” routine so often. To know that even now, when things were better, now that he knew the truth it could all change again.

And now to know that after everything there was still someone in the world who wished him dead, and for it to be his sister…

She pressed a kiss in his hair and just held him close. She doubted he would shed a tear over this; he showed emotion since he had never been the human robot people assumed he was, but she had the feeling there would be shock first. Maybe anger and sadness would come later. Maybe his walls towards his family would go up and hackles would be raised and the defenses he’d lowered would go skyrocketing higher than before. But she hoped and she prayed that he didn’t push her away. She loved him and wanted to be there with him through anything and everything that life threw at him, if only he’d let her.