#the affair ended #john has regrets #and mycroft is bitter
OH MY GOD
Mycroft: I’m not depressed. I just feel like I’m in a thick, dark fog
Mycroft: and everyone disappoints me and nothing works out,
Mycroft: and what’s the point of anything anyway?
Anthea:
Mycroft: And before you ask, it’s not because I’m not sleeping.
Mycroft: I’m getting 14 hours a sleep a day.
Sherlock got middle-named so much as a kid for getting into trouble (“WILLIAM SHERLOCK SCOTT HOLMES!!” probs by Mycroft) that they just save time now and call him Sherlock
Mycroft: Can you do the thing?
Greg: What thing?
Mycroft: You know, that thing that makes me happy.
Greg: Oh.
Greg: *smiling*
Mycroft, softly: Thank you.
You, a time traveler, accidentally introduced twenty-first century slang to Shakespeare.
For never was a story of more woe
O bard Alexa, play us despacito.
Donna: im having a breakdown because all three of my old lovers are back and i dont know which one is Sophie’s dad
Tonya and Rosie: that’s so sad alexa play dancing queen
Mycroft: A good gender neutral term to use is “fool.”
Accidental marriage or amnesia for the trope ask :)
accidental marriage what
umm. omg.
im gonna go with amnesia fic
This is pure crack sorry I couldn’t resist
Three sharp knocks echoed at his chamber door, waking the prince from his nap.
If this was another suitor Jim was going to carve out someone’s trachea with a spoon.
“Look Jessica, Grace, Griselda, whatever your name was, sorry-not-sorry to disappoint but I’m a busy man. Kingdoms to run, lives to ruin, toys to play with, the usual; I don’t have time to listen to your nonsense.”
“My Lord, it’s Greg Lestrade from the Guard.”
“Sure it is, and I can rip your heart out and share it with Sebastian if you don’t leave me in peace.” At the sound of retreating footsteps the raven-haired man turned to face his companion.
“Why can’t I just marry you instead Sebby?” he patted the tiger’s head idly, “at least you’re useful alive or dead. Unlike that weird guy with the not magical magic lamp.” The offending lamp cast a warm glow over his bedside table, the flame inside dancing in secret mirth. It had been a week since he’d first acquired the thing, and despite his best efforts the lamp refused to respond to any of his requests.
“At this rate, I’d rather marry – what’s his name from court last week, the ice cube, right – Mycroft Holmes,” he mused, “I think Mister Holmes would enjoy a healthy amount of anarchy, and he’s not hard on the eyes. Might have to take a few inches off him though, can’t have my wife being too tall of course. In fact, if it would deter all these suitors, I wish I could be married to Mycroft Holmes.”
There was a muffled thump accompanied by a male groan and the sudden feeling of cool metal encircling his finger.
“That was fast.”
The other man turned to face the course of the comment, only to find himself face to face with the Prince Moriarty. As he was unable to bow, he settled for a slight nod and a small frown.
“My Lord, was there an urgent matter you wished to discuss with me?” The Duke said, watching the interested looking tiger cautiously.
“Back off Sebby, he’s mine! Go find your own wife!”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Granted. Don’t let that rug with teeth fool you, I’ll be a much better husband for you than he could ever imagine. SO, are we keeping my name, since I rule the kingdom and all, or am I changing mine to yours, Mycroft?” The splotchy flush on the other man’s face was rather cute, in Jim’s opinion.
“I don’t recall getting married, much less any discussion of such.”
“You’re right, maybe we shouldn’t change them, although Mycroft Holmes-Moriarty does sound exciting.”
“Do I have any influence on this matter?”
Jim paused mid-ramble, gesturing arms coming to rest in his lap. “Unless you have a suggestion for the name of out firstborn, no. No you do not,” he said solemnly. “But I’m more than certain you’ll enjoy it anyways. So, which kingdom should we conquer first.”
Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose.
This was going to be a long evening.
The Blind Banker is pretty widely neglected but know that I love and appreciate it for what it really is- Mycroft and Greg’s secret sex holiday.
Mycroft wakes up feeling a bit under the weather and thinks ah it’ll be fine and gets ready and dressed for work anyway. The phone rings. It’s unlisted. He picks up and says Jim if you’re going to waste my time I’m going to hang up. Except it’s Molly, so the two of them are probably together. She asks him, Truth or Dare? Mycroft is like what? Jim chimes in with an Answer her question, Holmes. He picks truth. Are you or are you not coming down with a cold and planning to ignore it hoping itll go away the same way you do with emotions?? ….. Because what do you say to that. Jim yells from the background, can you add beets to chicken soup? Molly says ominously, don’t move. Then she hangs up.
#Jim goes straight in for a kiss when they show up #Molly has to hold him back #he might be contagious Jim #he pouts and spends the rest of the day mock pining from afar #for myctofts whos on the sofa #from the armchair #its all very dramatic and starcrossed
they end up tucking Mycroft into a cocoon on the couch so he can’t even escape while they cuddle on the armchair with ice cream to drown their sorrows
“For God’s sake I’m only barely congested.”
“Did you hear that, Jim? He’s admitting to being snotty! Mycroft admitting to his own arrogance—we must be losing his mind already. It’s only a matter of time—*fake tears*”
“Molly.”
“Sometimes, I still hear his voice…”
“Jim.”
“If only he’d taken better care of his health…”
It got better
I’d tag this but I don’t know what the hell it is
OH. MY. GOD.
wat r u doing to me with thisDoes Mycroft, like, get trapped in the cocoon because Jim learned how to swaddle people from Irene Adler? And he’s all “you know eventually I’m going to need to use the toilet righT?”
And Jim’s just, “No it’s okay Molly will put a diaper on you. She is a licensed medical professional.”
And Molly’s fishing beets out of the chicken soup and just sighs and is like, “Jim we talked about this, I’m not into the daddy!kink, that’s yours and Mycroft’s thing. You do the diapering.”
Meanwhile Mycroft is desperately trying to spontaneously develop telepathy and contact Anthea for a rescue. Except then she turns up with takeaway for Jim and Molly because of course she’s in on this whole thing, as the boss is such a baby when he’s sick and she’s so not interested in dealing with him.
But the greatest indignity of all is that they make him drink tea from a bendy straw.
IT GOT BETTER
EVERYONE KEEP GOING
Molly and Jim eventually start making-out and Mycroft’s just- “No. Please. It’s not fair. I’m sick! You’re supposed to be worried about mmee!”
And it’s just all “Oh, so NOW you’re sick?” And a smattering of air kisses (he’s still contagious).
