molly&moriarty

Moriarty x Molly|| Celshade sketch commission for @whyimmathere

What happened after the Christmas party in ASIB~

When they are children, “Moriarty” is a game. A story they tell only to each other, in whispers. They will use many other names. This is the only one they remember. 

Molliarty aesthetic.

Whelp, since I am falling down the Molliarty rabbit hole with no sign of any coming out, might as well start getting some creative output in the fandom. 

I don’t normally draw a lot - more of a writer - but I did this during class because this is my second semester with Restoration literature, and I have had it up till my eyeballs with people trying to find more inventive ways of being sarcastic. 

“Do you ever miss it?” Molly wonders, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, eyes locked to the window. There’s a small garden, outside, covered by the first blooms sighted in the snow. They’re still unpacking, she and Jim. In their new and ordinary house in an equally ordinary town. 

 “Miss what, Molly?” Jim inquires, coming closer to her, holding her butterfly waist so tight. Sometimes he thinks he’d break it. Break her. Like she’s made of soft and beautiful glass. 

“The Game.” she claims, closing her eyes. Although they spent the past few years far away from Sherlock, Jim’s hands still smell of death. She can feel it in the air, a sweet scent of dust and fear. 

“Oh, baby girl, you know we’re gonna be legends,

“It feels like Heaven