Was it you 'mid the fire and the ember?

Hi! I'm Elijah Holmes, but you can call me Eli. I'm studying literature at university, but I'd love to be a crime/mystery writer someday.

[elijahseditorials]

@floweringcryptology / [cont.]

“B-but Aunt Enola, what if I mess things up or what if she just said yes because... because she felt bad for me?” he asked, looking pleadingly at her. “It’s just.... Aunt Enola, she’s so... She’s incredible! She’s so nice, and upbeat, and happy, and positive, and smart-- she knows so much about everything and her laugh is so pretty and-- how? How could someone like her--”

He stopped his rant as he was handed the bouquet of flowers, nodding as his aunt ran through the list of all the things he should do. Swallowing and looking down at the bunch of yellow and blue blooms, he nodded.

“...Fun... right....”

Yes, he was definitely dying.

[elijahseditorials]

@floweringcryptology / [cont.]

“Oh, they’ll be up before dessert’s served, I can promise you that.” he said with a knowing grin, before looking back down at his brothers. “Should we move them to the couch? And which one do you want, Tweedledee or Tweedledum?” He gestured toward Will for the former, and Dom for the latter.

He paused a moment, before asking, “...Do you think it would be unethical to take photos to use as leverage? Not blackmail, of course, but... you know, just in case...”

[elijahseditorials]

@watsonofagun / [cont.]

“You found him!” he exclaimed happily, going to John and picking up the little charcoal-haired kitten with striking blue eyes, who meowed in protest as he was pulled away from where he was trying to make a bed out of John’s jumper. “Sorry he got away and woke you up, Uncle John.” the child said apologetically, petting the kitten contentedly. “I’ve been trying to find him all afternoon!” he continued, giving no explanation as to how he got a kitten or how it came to be at Baker Street.

[elijahseditorials]

floweringcryptology:

“Yeah, of course.” She gripped his hand, trying very hard to keep her voice even and not to let the tremor in her arm show so he wouldn’t figure out how terrified she’d been. “I’ll walk you.”

“I’ll be needing a word with your father anyway.” What the hell had Mycroft been  thinking? Elijah was older now, but leaving him alone and unsupervised was a security risk - one that should not have happened. What was worse was the fact that the cctv camera across Elijah’s school building hadn’t turned - not even once. She took a deep breath, willing herself calm, and turned to her nephew. “You okay? Not hurt anywhere?”

“Thank you,” he said softly.

Elijah looked up to his aunt at the mention of his father, before looking down again to the street below, a little embarrassed.

“...He should be home if he doesn’t have another meeting,” he replied with a small, noncommittal shrug. Business was business, and that was presumably why he hadn’t been paying a lot of attention today. It had happened enough times that Eli couldn’t find it in himself to be upset about it any more. He knew Mycroft cared, but... it was hard on his own, and he had to work very hard, so the boy had to make sure to help out where he could and make sure he didn’t bother his father. It was just the way things were, even though Elijah was a little sad about it.

“I’m not hurt bad,” he replied, “my wrist’s a little bruised, but it’s okay.” His shoulders hurt a little too, but, that would fade with time.

He was quiet for a moment, before,

“It’s good that the boys had their music lessons today.” That was what he had been really worried about, the potential danger his seven-year-old brothers and three-year-old sister would be in. However, once he remembered that they weren’t in the building and the twins had left early, the majority of the fear had left him, and even now he wasn’t really scared, even though Enola seemed to be shaking a little. He was just sort of... empty all over.

[elijahseditorials]

BOLD your muse’s aesthetic . TAG as many people AS YOU WISH ; FEEL FREE to add more . PLEASE repost , do not reblog !

fire ╱ ice ╱ water ╱ air ╱ earth ╱ electricity ╱ claws ╱ fangs ╱ wings ╱ gold ╱diamonds ╱ grass ╱ leaves ╱ trees╱  roses ╱ metal ╱iron ╱ rust ╱ rain ╱ snow ╱lace ╱silk╱ cotton ╱ velvet╱ chainmail ╱ sun ╱ moon ╱ stars╱ dirt ╱ mud ╱ silver╱steel ╱sugar ╱ salt ╱ lavender╱ foxglove ╱ glass╱ wood ╱ paper╱ wool ╱ fur ╱leather ╱ smoke╱ ash ╱ ocean╱ bruises ╱ scars╱ blood ╱ wind╱ spices ╱ light╱dark ╱paint╱ charcoal╱ wine ╱ hard liquor ╱ sweat ╱ dust ╱ bare feet ╱ canine╱ feline ╱coffee╱ tea ╱ books╱ scratches╱ burns ╱ petals╱ thorns ╱ hay ╱ glitter╱ heat ╱ cold ╱ steam ╱ frost ╱ candles ╱ sword ╱ dagger ╱ staff╱ arrows ╱ hammer ╱ shield ╱ spikes╱ bullets ╱ gunpowder ╱ wire ╱ sand ╱ rocks ╱ roots ╱ pearls ╱rubies ╱ sapphires╱ emeralds╱ jewelry ╱ herbs╱ waves ╱ lightning ╱ sunlight╱moonlight╱ clay ╱ stone╱ brick ╱ lions ╱ jackals ╱ hounds ╱ wolves ╱ foxes ╱ ravens ╱ kraken ╱ phoenix ╱ legend ╱ reality ╱ illusion╱ opaque╱ transparent ╱translucent ╱ incandescent ╱ freezing ╱ burning ╱ fact ╱ fiction ╱ marble╱ fruit╱ meat ╱ poison ╱ medicine ╱ snake ╱ avian ╱ clock ╱ shell╱ chain ╱ ribbon ╱ tie ╱ hat ╱ muted ╱ vibrant╱ sterile ╱ heart╱ spade ╱ map ╱ boot ╱ longship ╱ love╱ loss ╱ healer╱killer ╱ liar╱ impostor ╱ summer╱ fall ╱ winter ╱ spring╱ day ╱ night ╱dawn╱ dusk ╱ ancient ╱ new╱ life╱ death ╱ beach╱ cliffs

TAGGED BY : @ofdeductiions​ (thank you!! <3 <3 <3)

TAGGING : @theperditorian​  , @floweringcryptology , @thisisfatherspeaking​ , @mythiicalmade​ , anyone who hasn’t done this yet!

[the-unofficial-force]

“It’s snowing!”

[elijahseditorials]

“I’ll always be there to save you.”

Protective Sentence Starters (always accepting)

Elijah nodded, looking up to her with slightly wide eyes.

“...I know... thank you,” he said quietly, sliding his slightly smaller hand into hers, “...can we just... go home now? Please?”

[elijahseditorials]

@watsonofagun​ / [cont.]

“I’m alright,” Elijah assured, meeting John’s gaze while readjusting the bags he was holding. He glanced up at the sky with a frown which deepened as a strong gust of wind swept up and tousled his curls, obstructing his vision for a moment by flopping what felt like half of it into his eyes.

He was happy to help John out however he could, and helping him carry groceries back from the market was an easy way of doing so. When they set out earlier, it had been beautiful; the sort of idyllic fall day that Elijah absolutely adored. Blue skies, crisp air, just cool enough to bundle up but warm enough so you weren’t uncomfortable. Since they had left the store, though, the temperature had dropped significantly, the clouds had appeared-- distinctively grey, heavy storm clouds which signified something definitely not good-- and the wind had picked up,

“...Yeah, I think we’d better.” What were the chances of them making it back to Baker Street before it inevitably begun to rain?

Not great, he decided with a sigh, as the teenager felt a droplet of moisture on the back of his hand. He quickened his pace.

[elijahseditorials]

@theperditorian​ / [cont.]

[text: Enola] No!!!

[text: Enola] ...Unfortunately...

[text: Enola] She’s my friend, Sarah. Molly’s niece, she needed somebody to walk her home so I offered

[text: Enola] She’s really nice, very happy and upbeat and kind. She really likes animals and she’s very smart. We talk a lot about a lot of things, and she wants to be a zoologist. She knows so much about everything and her laugh is so pretty and I don’t know how she’s so positive all the time but I like it

[text: Enola] ...I like her. A lot.

[shallnotdisappoint]

Surprising Reunion

[elijahseditorials]

shallnotdisappoint:

Sherlock carefully made his way to the wheelchair and finally taking a seat, letting out a comforting sigh. He then hesitated taking the Elijah’s baseball cap. For a moment there, he saw the memories rushed in the young man’s head as his thumb brushed the bill of the cap affectionately. Something important, mostly. Or he wouldn’t be holding on that item for far too long.

When he finally did, his eyes stared at the item on hand. Though the cap looked new, there were marks on it showing that it wasn’t. Especially when he flipped it over and seen the sinagtures of different names inside. Some of it have faded through time but the cap, overall, seemed well-maintained. It only showed how much Elijah valued the headwear.

“Are you sure about this?” Sherlock couldn’t help but asked before looking at the cap once more. “Seemed you valued this greatly. Looking at how well-maintained this looked.” Carefully adjusted it before finally putting it on. He could only think how funny he must have looked at the moment.

“Of course I’m sure,” Elijah smiled a little at Sherlock’s intense assessment of the item, “and you’re right, I do value it a lot, but, you can keep it for now.” It’s the least he can do, offering the man a small little bit of comfort, though he wished with every inch of him that he could do more.

Seeing the respected consulting detective wearing a Disneyland cap, of all things, brought a myriad of emotions to the boy. Seeing a child’s hat atop the noble, wise brow was amusing, most certainly, made more so by fond memories of different hats (a newspaper clipping John had shown Elijah once of Hatman and Robin came to mind) and silly shenanigans from years gone by, but the juxtaposition of that with the hospital room, the wheelchair, the bandages, and the hospital gown brought him back to reality, away from happier times.

“Are you ready to go?” Elijah asked, before attempting to joke, “I might have to throw my criminology textbook at the heart monitor if I have to listen to that beeping for any longer.” And it was true. The constant noise of the machine and the rest of the others, even though his uncle wasn’t hooked up to any of them, was decidedly not doing anything to relax him, and he was sure wasn’t doing much for his uncle’s head.

He started to move behind the wheelchair to grasp the handles before pausing in hesitation, looking to his uncle.

“Do you... do you want me to push you, or do you want to handle it yourself?” He had to remember that his uncle didn’t remember anything, much less trust anything, and taking control like that, even on a simple matter like this, might not be the best idea and might make him more uncomfortable.

[elijahseditorials]

watsonofagun:

John was unknowingly holding his breath as he listened to Elijah.

There wasn’t a need to. But he did, after the first couple of sentences came out. Because John suddenly saw himself, sitting in front of a therapist; except he never did display his fear, his worries, his discomfort out in the open. He had always hidden them well, perhaps because he hated to be judged; always been taught to never show fear, lest the opposing party should take advantage of it and cause the loss of your life by carelessness. Every man was important to the force, they said.

But if he had been more honest, Elijah’s appearance now was surely who he had been behind the mask. He knew very well the frustration, the self-hatred, the insomnia—–God, he hated the insomnia. Too much consciousness to ruminate over the demise of his vibrant life, too much tendency to trigger the worst of his nightmares. He placed his hand over the boy’s, as if hiding the bandages from his sight, drawing in a deep breath.

       “No, don’t be sorry, Elijah. Like you said, it was out of control.       You tried, it didn’t work, of course you would be scared. And—       and I know that feeling all too well.”

Sometimes he always thought it was a miracle he hadn’t been poisoned by alcohol yet, with how much whiskey he consumed to forget about his ordeals.

      “I’m not a therapist. But I know I want to help you, because I’ve been       through the same things myself. Trust me, I have, ask your uncle, he’s       seen the worst of it. But look at me now, nothing like I was then. You       can be healed, Elijah, when you ask for help. That’s nothing wrong at       all. You understand?”

The tears slid down Elijah’s cheeks after being dammed up for too long, the outburst of emotion oddly silent and still; his shoulders did not heave and his form didn’t shake, having stopped after he was done speaking. He remained like this for a few moments until he felt the doctor’s hand on his own, and he looked up, as if surprised John would even want to touch him after what he had just confessed, his eyes childlike as he listened.

“...I... you, you have?” He had some idea as to the other’s condition after the war as it was kind of an open secret, having gathered bits and bobs here and there from his uncle Sherlock, or Greg, or his father, but it hadn’t ever come up in conversation, and he hadn’t really thought it appropriate to press the subject.

He blinked in the hopes of clearing the last of the tears away, to some success, and nodded his understanding. It was a moment before he asked,

“...so... I’m not... you don’t think I’m a freak?” he ventured, “People normally-- or, not normally, but, sometimes-- feel like this?” Even though he was one of the Holmeses who was in the best touch with his emotional side, growing up around those who weren’t as much had led him to a very stunted idea of what ‘normal’ was, so the question was tentative, similar in tone and in expression to how Sherlock would sometimes ask if what he was doing was not good.

“Anyways, I guess... I guess this is me asking, then. For help. I... I know I’ve needed it for a while, and I’ve wanted it, but... I didn’t--I don’t-- know where to go and what to do, and what everybody’s going to think because they’re going to figure it out at some point if they haven’t alread--” His eyes went wide in horror and fear with a sudden realization.

“Oh God.” he murmured, “Oh God, if Dad finds out he’s going to kill me. He is actually going to kill me. Or lock me away somewhere, or disown me...” He knew his uncle had a drug problem, starting around when he was Elijah’s age, and that he and Mycroft were surprisingly close before and now... well, depending on the day, they either loathed each other or just hated each other, so it seemed. And, from where Elijah stood, he himself liked to help his father where he could to ease Mycroft’s workload (usually in terms of raising his younger siblings or cooking dinner, or cleaning house, frequently all three. Even though Mycroft never asked, Elijah just took to doing it), but, now with this new development, would his father think he was a danger to the twins and Penny and never let him see them again? The train of thought caused his hands to tremble beneath John’s and his leg began to bounce again, his heart to quicken.

[elijahseditorials]

just another muse traits meme

            repost !  /  don’t reblog

BOLD all that applies to your muse!

• EYES:  blue | green | brown | hazel | grey | grey-blue | other • HAIR:  blonde | sandy | brown | black | strawberry blonde | chestnut | ginger | grey / white | multi-color | other • BODY TYPE:  skinny | slender | slim | built | curvy | athletic | muscular | chubby | overweight • SKIN:  pale | light | fair | freckled | tan | olive | medium | dark | discolored • GENDER:  male | female | trans | cis | agender | demigender | genderfluid | other | doesn’t like labels • SEXUALITY:  heterosexual | homosexual | bisexual | pansexual | asexual | demisexual | other | doesn’t like labels • ROMANTIC ORIENTATION:  homoromantic | heteroromantic | biromantic | panromantic | aromantic | demiromantic | unsure | doesn’t like labels • SPECIES:  human | undead | shapeshifter | demon | angel | witch | ghost | incubus / succubus | werewolf | alien | mutant | superhuman • EDUCATION:  ged | high school | college | university | master’s degree | phd | other • I’VE BEEN:  in love | hurt | ill | mentally abused | bullied | physically abused | tortured | raped | brainwashed | shot | manipulated • POSITIVE TRAITS:  affectionate | adventurous | athletic | brave | careful | charming | confident | creative | cunning | determined | forgiving | generous | honest | humorous | intelligent | loyal | modest | patient | selfless | polite | down-to-earth | diligent | romantic | moral | fun-loving | attractive | charismatic | calm • NEGATIVE TRAITS:  aggressive | bossy | cynical | envious | shy | fearful | greedy | gullible | jealous | impatient | impulsive | cocky | reckless | insecure | irresponsible | mistrustful | paranoid | possessive | sarcastic | self-conscious | selfish | swears | unstable | clumsy | rebellious | emotional | vengeful | anxious | self-sabotaging | moody | peevish | angry | pessimistic | slacker | thin-skinned | overly dramatic | argumentative • LIVING SITUATION:  lives alone | lives with parent(s) / guardian | lives with significant other | lives with a friend | drifter | homeless | lives with children | depends on verse • PARENTS/GUARDIAN:  mom | dad | adoptive | foster | grandmother | grandfather • RELATIONSHIP:  single | crushing | dating | engaged | married | separated | it’s complicated | depends on verse • I HAVE A(N): learning disorder | personality disorder | mental disorder (pyromania) | anxiety disorder | sleep disorder | eating disorder | behavioral disorder | substance related disorder | ptsd | mental disability | physical disability | verse dependent • THINGS I’VE DONE BEFORE:  had alcohol | smoked | stolen | done drugs | self-harmed | starved themselves | had sex | had a threesome | had a one-night stand | gotten into a fist fight | gone to hospital | gone to jail | used a fake ID | played hooky | gone to a rave | killed someone | had someone try to kill them

TAGGED BY: @watsonofagun (thank you love!!) TAGGING: @multamusae (muse of your choice!), @hedgebiitch , @ofdeductiions , @samaelnomcre , @voxdecaelo , @littlethrushbird , @thisisfatherspeaking , whoever else would like to!!

[ofdeductiions]

   “Bad first question.”

   Hypocrite

   Taking another drag from the cigarette, Sherlock glanced over his nephew. He could see what the time has done to him. He was too skinny, too uncaring. His hair too long. His eyes were too dull. It felt as though he was looking through a mirror into the past. A feeling that only increased on the exponential when he read the label of the pill bottle from where he sat.

   “I sincerely hope you weren’t just about to take your own life,” he said, with all the finesse of a man having been chased by demons every day of the last two and a half years. “I’m not sure my brother could handle another heartbreak. Nor that your siblings wouldn’t follow down a similar path.” Sherlock couldn’t count the number of times Mycroft had been the one to save him from an overdose or a shoddy attempt on his own life. He refused to do the same for Mycroft’s children unless he absolutely had to.

   “Better not just be looking for a high, either,” he added. Another inhale, and then he patted the cold ground next to him. “Come sit down. Leave the pills there. And anything else you’re hiding in your pockets.”

   One last stream of smoke disappeared into Sherlock’s lungs and then out into the air before he decided he was done with it. He shoved the butt onto the inside of his wrist– he didn’t so much as flinch as the embers died and his skin turned white and red from the burn. The cigarette was flicked away after that. A little burn couldn’t do anything in consideration of the other horrors that littered his body.

   “Before you ask, I was not on vacation, or anything like that. I was taking down Moriarty’s network. I couldn’t risk my family, John, Mrs. Hudson, or Lestrade getting hurt, so I went undercover. If I could have told you, I would have. No one except you, now, knows I’m alive.” Not even John. Not even his parents. Not even Mycroft. “I was planning on returning within the month. I’m not… In a fit state to return at current.”

[elijahseditorials]

Elijah nodded at Sherlock’s assessment of his question, answering a soft, “No, not... not yet,” with a surprising amount of truth, averting his gaze and looking down to the ground, his expression one of shame as his uncle continued to speak. He looked small, his hoodie hanging off his wiry frame, and with the rain slipping down his unkempt curls, very young. Lost. “...They need me. Well, needed... I can’t say I haven’t thought about it, but...” He took in a breath. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. ”

“As for... as for the pills, I... I just got them yesterday, I was going to try them later.” he admitted, looking up to meet Sherlock’s eyes, his own dull and nearly empty. “I just wanted everything to just stop, and... and be quiet for a little while. Leave me in peace?... That’s why I came here, I thought... I thought somebody should know, but I didn’t know who I could tell who would understand, because the one person that would...” He looked to his uncle as if wanting to finish his sentence, before trailing off, shaking his head, moving to sit next to him.

“Uncle Sherlock, no, don’t--!” he exclaimed the moment he saw the end of the cigarette draw near the detective’s wrist. His eyes were wide, but he said nothing more, drawing his knees up to his chest. The position allowed for some of his sleeve to slide down, and there were a few oddly rounded scars visible before he pulled the sleeve back up after noticing it had slipped.

“Moriarty?” he asked, “Was this... was this just some kind of game to him, playing dead?” he said, his eyes darkening, “Or... did he not count on dying, so his network kept going?”

He managed a smile, his own woes forgotten in the blink of an eye in favor of helping the detective.

“It’s okay,” he said, “...I mean... nothing about this is okay, but... you did what you had to do. I just wish you didn’t have to do it alone. We all would have helped, but... I understand. And I won’t tell anybody about any of this, not until you’re ready... but, we all really missed you, Uncle ‘Lock...” Elijah hadn’t called Sherlock by that name in years, but, it came out of its own volition.

His brow furrowed in concern at Sherlock’s last remark.

“...What do you mean? What’s wrong?...” An idea occurring to him, he added, “If you need somewhere to go, I’m at uni now, I’ve got a room in one of the accommodation blocks.”

[ofdeductiions]

(open)

   Perhaps sitting against one’s own grave was a bit macabre, but Sherlock never had been the type of person to be put off by something so simple as creepiness. Besides, the quiet of the cemetery helped him think when the flat became too much. Too lonely, too tight, too loud, too dark. Sometimes he needed the empty hole beneath him to remember he wasn’t enduring a living death; sometimes not even rain could stop him from breathing in the air of the dead. It couldn’t even deter him from his cigarette, the smoke curling lazily about his face. What did pull him from his reverie, however, was the sound of footsteps and a shadow falling over him. Sherlock looked up through his damp curls.

   “Fancy meeting you here.”

[elijahseditorials]

He had meant to go visit one last time.

One last time before he took out the little bottle in his pocket and got his first high. He didn’t know if his uncle, if he was still alive, would be disappointed or have some strange kind of pride in his eldest nephew for following in his footsteps. Elijah always had loved and looked up to his uncle Sherlock, wishing to emulate him in many ways, so, a step like this he supposed was inevitable. He figured he at least owed the grave the man a visit, to update him on his life and this new direction. But, as he came nearer to the black slab, he could have sworn his heart stopped.

Dead men don’t smoke.

His hand closed around the unopened pill bottle, taking it out with one hand, not looking down, to reassure himself he hadn’t taken anything, before the container fell to the ground, the benzodiazepine pills rattling.

“Oh, my G--” the exclamation was hushed, his voice oddly calm as his face drained of color, cutting off abruptly for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of. Staring at his uncle with blue eyes, he resisted the urge to run and close the small distance between them and hug the man, never letting go.

After the momentary, initial shock, he instantly felt the weight of crushing failure and guilt. How did he not know that he was alive? How did he not realize it and figure it out on its own? How could he have been so stupid?

“H-how...” He swallowed, thickly, feeling too many emotions at once to decide on one, eventually landing on numb, “...how did you do it?...”

A peculiar first question, certainly, but one he couldn’t help but ask.

[elijahseditorials]

“Hey, do you know what you want to be for Halloween yet? I do. I’m going as...”

“...A ghost writer.”

[fireandsteelofangels]

there’s this girl brave, smart, beautiful and I’d give her anything she dreamed of I’d stay up and watch her sleep the rise and fall of her chest the place where I sometimes think my heart beats I’d go up to the heavens and ask for the stars because she deserves to be crowned with starlight and moondust because the stardust that created us burns in her so much it’s blinding there’s this girl a warrior, a queen, a whirlwind and she’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of

is this how it feels to fall? by abby S (via fireandsteelofangels)

[wnq-writers]

You inspired words within me that I wasn’t even sure existed.

Kristie Betts (via wordsnquotes)