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#clintasha #natasha romanoff #clint barton

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like BlackFrost. Stranger: ((Hi! Wanna rp?)) You: [Sure.] Stranger: ((Great! I got an idea for an AU but nothing written out yet, are you okay with AU's?)) You: [AU's are fine.] Stranger: ((So I was thinking of a Viking AU, back when the Roman empire existed and Loki and Thor are the two biggest warlords, sworn rivals and all of that, but both enemies of the Romans since they killed their fathers and one day Loki is out on a raid with his warriors somewhere in Roman territory and he can find Natasha that was being used as a slave or she was one of the prisoners or something?)) You: [That would work for me. And then he's take her back with him? The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all of that?] Stranger: ((Of course, he always frees the slaves and the prisoners of the Romans and most of the time they follow him and pledge their allegiance to him as a sign of gratitude anyways)) You: [Makes sense. You're going to be Loki then and I'll be Natasha?] Stranger: ((Sure, sounds great! Also, you okay with Loki being a sorcerer or not so much?)) You: [Loki can be a sorcerer, I don't mind :) It makes sense for him to still have powers.] Stranger: ((Alrighty! Because then I got some tats for him, since he is a viking and a sorcerer I just assumed that he will have Runic tattoos to strengthen him)) You: [Tattoos are fine, and it does make sense.] Stranger: ((Alrighty, Imma send you some pics)) Stranger: https://40.media.tumblr.com/8b5c9a181cca3301eee6567a26042751/tumblr_n87na27apt1tdhfslo1_500.jpg Stranger: https://40.media.tumblr.com/32b9263ca9160f52d574a69cb19b6ffb/tumblr_mz6mygnj3W1rxrv7bo4_400.jpg ((The first on his left palm, the second on his right palm and the remainder of the two rows scattered over his abdomen)) Stranger: https://41.media.tumblr.com/dcc7194b1a0fd3c1d678e3ef6d5bb1ca/tumblr_mo50boMPqu1r9ixxro2_r1_500.jpg Stranger: https://41.media.tumblr.com/178e77004791afe6a40032f2219c2cc7/tumblr_n1gdxg8NSc1r8v0cpo1_500.jpg Stranger: https://33.media.tumblr.com/b3817296d86103ddd1165e5c6506e251/tumblr_nczuhp1uy01se768yo3_500.jpg Stranger: https://40.media.tumblr.com/b795fd5a157c1c30a6e9627f42c6c2a5/tumblr_n1geqlSxrh1r8v0cpo1_500.png ((Right calf) Stranger: https://33.media.tumblr.com/c740d1b1d831aa618952efb7145ae7f7/tumblr_nczbc7SSr61tfn85lo1_500.jpg ((Left calf and that is it)) You: [They all look pretty cool. I don't think Natasha would have any, though, since she's not necessarily from the same region as Loki and Thor initially.] Stranger: ((Yep, you want her to be like Roman father/Nordic mother or just from somewhere in Russia?)) You: [She could have a Roman father/Nordic mother and have been raised in Russia for whatever reason?] Stranger: ((Sure, her mother ran away when she realized she was preggo, she then went with her clan to fight against the Romans and got defeated?)) You: [Works for me. Then Natasha would have been taken as a war prize when her mother was defeated, and she was a servant since then?] You: [Well, slave, but you know what I meant.] Stranger: ((Yep, so uhm...Got captured when she was 14/15 and she is 22 now?)) You: [That would be fine.] You: [So, do you want to start, since it'll be Loki defeating whoever captured her?] Stranger: ((Sure thing! And one last thing, Loki is around 25 then?)) You: [That would be fine, yeah.] Stranger: ((Alrighty, I will write it up)) You: [Alright :) ] Stranger: They departed with five ships, five ships were sailing over the sea, filled with enormous men. Some fought with greatswords that weighed over a hundred kilograms, some were leaner and quicker so they fought with spears, some a combination of both so they fought with swords and shields. Loki personally had a spear at his side and a dagger on his hip, overlooking the land that only came closer. The wind carried them, so rowing was not necessary. The men gathered on the deck, the ships were formed in an arrow formation and every ship had a duplicate of Loki. "Men!" Loki shouted out as land was nearing. "We all know who lay there. Romans, disgusting Romans, a failed attempt of the gods to make men!" The men cheered at Loki, raising their weapons. He looked around at the mass of naked chests, braided hear, skin that was so heavily covered in tattoos that they seemed black. Loki himself didn't wear anything on his upper body either, he had warm trousers on, boots to walk in the snow and fur wrapped around his hips but nothing more. His hair was braided into one tail, and with his height and his tattoos he looked quite intimidating. "And now, we shall win the favor of the gods by slaying these disgusting creatures! Kill them all, men, women, children alike. Take back what the have stolen from our lands and free our brothers and sisters so we can make the rivers flow with blood!" He shouted and all the men of the five ships shouted back at him, banging against the wood. He looked back, Romans were gathering on the edge, a good 500 or so while Loki only had around 100 men, give or take. But the fight will be good. The ships landed on the coast and Loki jumped out, landing on a roman and crushing his head with his boot, killing another with his spear before taking out his dagger. The battle lasted two hours, and Loki entered the town with not a man less than he came with, but with 500 dead Romans laying behind them. The wooden gates were closed, and he smirked, the dagger was sheathed and as he walked, a blue ball of energy started to appear in his hand. He threw it at the gates and the gate flew out of its hinges, flying to the other side of the town and breaking the barricades there. His men stormed inside with Loki in front of them and slayed any Roman that had Roman clothing on them while a group followed Loki, walking towards the guarded tent. The slaves and prisoners were there, he knew it. Stranger has disconnected. You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like blackfrost. Stranger: ((Did I just lose you?)) You: [I think so, yeah. It was about vikings?] Stranger: ((Yes! Ohgod so sorry, pressed the wrong button!)) You: [It's fine :) Do you want to make a tag or something in case that happens again?] Stranger: ((Sure! VikingsBlackFrost but I will make sure it won't!)) You: [Alright :) I'll get back to working on my reply? Fair warning though, it might not be as long as yours was.] Stranger: ((Oh no worries! Mine is a starter, so they are usually longer than actual replies)) You: Natasha was in the tent with the rest of the slaves and prisoners when the Romans went to fight. Back when she was first taken, she would have used the opportunity to try to run, to escape from her masters, but after the first several times she had escaped, they had put a heavy collar around her slim neck, chaining her to a sturdy post whenever there was a risk she would run. The slaves were all in various states of dress, their masters herding them all into the tent before going off to battle and leaving some of the men behind to guard them. Natasha debated whether she wished for this master to die as the last one had. If that happened, a new Roman would take claim to her, whichever fished the key out of her master's robes, just as had happened the last three times her masters had been killed by Vikings. While she wanted the man to die, she didn't see how her situation would change, so she was apathetic to the whole thing. She had curled up as best as the chain would allow, trying to sleep and ignoring the sounds of the battle that came ever closer. Stranger: ((Oh brb)) You: [Alright] The Romans started shouting in their language, debating whether to flee or to attack but they didn't have time to do either since one was pierced with Loki's spear through his stomach and Loki's dagger hit the other one in his throat, both fell into the tent and he heard screams coming from inside the tent. Mostly female screams. Loki stepped into the tent first, taking his weapons, his body was covered in blood now but one of it his own. A smile on his face as he looked around and made a small bow. As he stepped forward, his men entered with him, some stayed outside to guard the tent. Loki had a Nordic man with him that had a Roman mother, and so he knew the language well, teaching Loki in it even. For now, Loki decided that he will let the man translate his words to the slaves that didn't understand the language. "Greetings to you all, my name is Loki", he said and as the man translated, Loki went to the edge of the tent and wiped the blood off of his dagger before sheathing it, holding his spear at his right side. "And I am not here to take you over as slaves. I am here to free you", another small pause and he looked around, now he saw one that had red hair. He heard stories of women with red hair, they were blessed by the gods, kissed by fire, amazing shieldmaidens were made from redheads. "If you wish to stay here, I do not object. If you wish to go and run away to a different city, I do not object. But I will also allow it for you to join me. Live on my land, be free. Men can become fighters, women can become wives, there are many possibilities", he said and the man started talking once again, while he did, Loki's eyes slid over the bodies in the tent. Some men were capable of fighting, some women were worthy of becoming shieldmaidens, might be good assets. "Whatever you decide, I will leave when the sun goes under. I wish you all plentiful lives", Loki said with another smile at them, if it wasn't for his weapons, his tattoos, the blood on his body then he would pass as a public speaker. With those words translated, Loki got out of the tent and his started to cut off the collars from the slaves, cut the bonds away and remove their furs to give to ones that needed them. You: Natasha sat up when the men entered the tent. She was mostly unclothed, but she had lost most of her modesty long ago. One wasn't a slave of the Romans as long as she had been and still capable of modesty. It just didn't happen. She understood the man's speech perfectly, even though it had been eight years since she last heard anyone speaking her mother's tongue. She had learned the Roman's language out of necessity, but it was a slight relief to hear a familiar language. She noticed that the man, Loki, looked at her, and she threw her head up defiantly. The Romans hadn't broken her spirit, although they had tried. She wondered if the black haired man would try too. "Where would we run?" she asked sardonically, her accent clear as she spoke. "We are but slaves. Our masters are dead, we have nowhere to go. Joining you is the most sensible choice." She heard a few, the Romans who had been turned into slaves mostly, debating on trying their luck in another city, but she wasn't going to attempt it. Better the devil you knew than one you didn't, and she wasn't going to risk becoming a slave again. "Are women only fit to become wives?" That was all the Romans thought, wives or whores, but she had never bowed to that thought. She wished to fight, to pay back in blood what the Romans had taken from her. Her home, her mother, her identity. "Allow me to fight and I will join you." None of the others had spoken yet, but she wasn't surprised by that. It was unexpected, that they would be freed so suddenly, but with how often she had run before, she was prepared for this day. Stranger: Before Loki could exit the tent, he was stopped by the woman that had a rather large mouth. He liked it, to be honest. And he couldn't help but smirk as he looked at her, snatching the dagger of one of the man that passed to clothe the slaves, he didn't even notice it, and Loki threw it at Natasha. Not directly at her, it landed just where he intended it to land, right beside her leg. "Women can become excellent shieldmaidens, warlords, guards, boat makers, anything really. No one cares if you got a cock or not. You can fight, you fight. You can't fight, you don't fight! Simple as that!" Loki told her, a small smile on his face. He watched one of the men approach her, offering her furs to cover herself. "And you", Loki said, his spear pointing to the redhead, "You are going to be right next to me next time that we attack the Romans to prove you can fight", he said and heard men shouting outside, "cavalry reinforcements incoming!" Loki looked out of the tent and then back at the redhead. "For now, stay inside", he said before running outside, already grabbing his dagger. Stranger: ((Wow, this one is a short one, sorry!)) You: [It's fine :) ] You: Natasha ignored the furs for the moment, testing the dagger and grinning at the sharpness. No one was foolish enough to let a weapon pass into her hands, her mother had taught her too well for that. She hadn't flinched when the dagger came flying at her, knowing that it wouldn't hurt her. The angle had been wrong if he had planned to hit her. She had just accepted the furs when the man said that she would be beside him when they next attacked the Romans. Finally, she would have the opportunity to attack, to make the Romans pay dearly. Leaving the others to their debate, Natasha moved to the opening of the tent, wanting to see what would happen. She noticed the Viking, Loki, was strong and quick, evidently a skilled warrior. She saw a Roman sneaking behind him while he was fighting several others, and the dagger went flying easily, hitting her target in the back, severing his spine. She hadn't left the tent, so the man couldn't say that she had disobeyed him, if he had even noticed her actions. You: [Mine ended up being short too, sorry! It looked longer when I was typing it.] Stranger: ((I know, right?! It's always like that)) Stranger: ((And brb, *sigh*)) You: [It's fine :) ] Stranger: ((Alright I think I am back for a while now)) Stranger: Loki was careful not to hurt a horse as he killed the Romans, after all, they weren't guilty of anything. He hated it when the Romans used animals such as dogs or boars, though boars were never used in his battles, he did hear that they were used in the South. He heard a dagger whiz behind him as a Roman slid down his spear, and he looked back to see a man with a knife in his back, the Roman slid off of Loki's spear, he saw the woman peeking out of her tent and Loki smirked at her, in less than a blink of an eye there stood five Loki's, all turned around and ran to different directions, the real Loki looked up, seeing arrows darken the sky. Oh god, they expected them. With his palm towards the sky, the rune on his hand took a green flow and the arrows stopped in the sky, firing back towards the men that fired the arrow. The cavalry men stopped, looking up as the arrows flew back and then looked at Loki who raised his hand again towards them. "Demons!" One shouted and they all rode away as fast as they could, dropping the weapons in their hands. And just like that, in a matter of a few minutes, the battlefield was silent. Stranger: ((Sorry I don't include Nat too much, I will once she is beside Loki)) You: [It's fine :) There's not much she can do at the moment, after all, so she wouldn't be included in the battle yet.] You: Natasha arched an eyebrow when she noticed several of the man who had given her the dagger, Loki. Hm, perhaps he was more than a simple warrior after all. Sorcerers were rare, she had never encountered any among the Romans as they considered anything to do with sorcery the work of demons. She smirked when she saw the cavalry men fleeing, shaking her head. Cowards and fools, the lot of them. She left the tent, going to the fallen man and retrieving the dagger she had been given, wiping the blade free of blood negligently on the dead man's cloak. She stroked the flank of a horse, it's coat gleaming a similar color to her hair, before heading back to the tent. She could be patient. She would sit and wait until the man told them to board the ships and then she would follow him. Stranger: ((Ugh god, I gtg, so sorry! Got exams and all)) Stranger has disconnected.

#blackfrost #loki laufeyson #natasha romanoff #vikings #romans #au

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like sherlolly, adlock, winglock, omegalock, holmescest, fawnlock, mythea, johnlock, johncroft, parentlock, mystrade, femlock, and mpreg. Stranger: (Doesn't show me typing.) Holmeses rarely got sick, but both Sherlock and Mycroft were ill. Both were in Sherlock's bed, after John had saw Mycroft's extremely pale face and wobbly walk. The brothers, while normally they acted like they hated each other, were now cuddled against each other, wearing silk pyjamas. Sherlock was snoring, slightly drooling with tissue up his nose, head on Mycroft's shoulder. Mycroft was feebly groaning, with his hands rubbing his stomach to stop the pains of indigestion. When Sherlock realised that John was watching them, however, he moved right away from Mycroft, and thought up the best lie he could while sick. "Mycroft keeps coughing on me!" You: "You both are ridiculous," John muttered, shaking his head. "If Mycroft keeps coughing on you, why were you cuddling with him?" He didn't expect an answer (truthfully he was surprised that Sherlock had managed to lie at all), but he couldn't resist asking the question regardless. He had left the room briefly to get a heating pad for Mycroft, batting away the elder brother's hands and resting it on his stomach. "That should help you Mycroft, and I brought more tissues for you Sherlock." Only the Holmes brothers would get sick at the same time, but he had to admit that it was easier to take care of them both this way. Stranger: Mycroft groaned in thanks, placing his hands over the heating pad. Sherlock pulled the tissue out of his nose, and put it on Mycroft's arm. Mycroft groaned again. "He was holding me close to cough in my face." Sherlock huffed, poking Mycroft's cheek, seeing how far he could go before Mycroft snapped. Mycroft only continued to grunt and groan, drooling slightly. You: "I don't think he has strength enough to do that," John said calmly, picking up the tissue and throwing it in the small bin he'd put by the bed for precisely that purpose. "Sherlock, stop poking Mycroft. If he snaps and hits you, I'm not going to stop him because you'll deserve it." He didn't think Mycroft had the energy at the moment, but it was better to warn him now, just in case. Honestly, it was like dealing with a pair of two year olds. Stranger: Mycroft opened his eyes for a second, before getting up and stumbling to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it after him. Sherlock smirked slightly, looking at the door. "Want a bet? Five pounds on that it's diarrhea. If he's vomiting, take a fiver out of my wallet." He laughed gently. "Go and boil some milk. That helps with indigestion." He blew his nose, and threw the tissue in the bin. "I would check on him. He's fainted from this before." He closed his eyes and rested back. You: "I'm throwing out everything that isn't edible in the fridge," John said, turning and going to the kitchen. He already had milk heating, and he had had Mrs. Hudson pick up some ginger tea, adding on peppermint tea as an after thought. Both should help with his upset stomach. He already had medicine for both brothers (and he was tempted to make Sherlock's a suppository just to keep him from looking so smug), but he needed to check on Mycroft before he could do anything with it. He headed to the bathroom, knocking cursorily before unlocking the door (thankfully Mrs. Hudson had given him the key after Sherlock had locked himself in the bathroom before). Stranger: Mycroft was lying on the floor, an arm wrapped around the bottom of the toilet, bath mat over him like a blanket. He was coughing and shaking, whimpering gently. He spat onto the floor, and took off his soaked pyjamas, pulling down a towel to cover himself. He was crying gently, flipping down the lid of the toilet and flushing it. "Both..." He whispered, enjoying the coolness of the floor. "Leave me here..." He whined, rolling onto his side. "Water..." You: John wasn't surprised at the state Mycroft was in, stepping around him briefly to turn on the water. A shower or a bath would be good for Mycroft. He'd get in with him if he needed to, but he thought it would help Mycroft. He crouched down beside Mycroft, rubbing his back gently. "I'm not going to leave you here. Now, do you think you can get up if you have my help? We'll move you to the toilet, you can sit there until you decide whether you'd rather have a shower or a bath. I have some medicine and a glass of water for you as well, once we get you upright again." Stranger: "Don't wanna get up..." He burped into his hand, and rolled slowly onto his back. "Don't want a shower or bath... Feel so tired..." He coughed, letting some acid reflux out. "I feel like I'm going to collapse, John... Drag me back to bed? You can't carry me..." He was getting thinner, but not so much that John could carry him. He swallowed thickly, then shuddered, before closing his eyes and placing John's cool hand on his cheek. You: John sighed, stroking Mycroft's flushed face gently. "You'll feel better if you have a shower or a bath. You'll be able to wash off some of that sweat. And I'm not dragging you anywhere." He would have to figure something out, since he couldn't carry him. Sherlock, yes, because the man was too skinny for his own good, but Mycroft was heavier and John wasn't in the best shape anymore. "I have medicine that should probably help to make you feel better, and there's warm milk in the kitchen for after we're done in here." Stranger has disconnected.

#Sherlock Holmes #Mycroft Holmes #john watson #sherlock BBC #sick sherlock #sick mycroft

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like parentlock. Stranger: Mycroft, I require your assistance. -SH You: That is something I am unaccustomed to hearing from you. -MH Stranger: I am aware but it is unfortunately necessary this time. -SH Stranger: I need someone extracted from Serbia. -SH You: All of your captors have already been dealt with. -MH Stranger: It's not one of my captors. -SH You: Who is it, then? -MH Stranger: An 11 month old child by the name of Victoria. -SH You: Why would you bother asking me to extract a child? -MH Stranger: It's my child. -SH You: Evidently your hiatus was more enjoyable than you had stated. -MH Stranger: Now is not the time for jokes, brother. -SH Stranger: Sleeping with her mother was necessary to get into the base. -SH You: And it is necessary for you to take care of the child? -MH Stranger: Yes. -SH Stranger: Her mother is the wife of the man who tortured me. He killed her and then himself. -SH Stranger: Victoria is in an orphanage run by Catholic nuns. -SH You: It is unfortunate, but there are many orphans with the same story, brother. -MH Why is this one different, aside from the fact that she shares your blood? -MH Stranger: There is no difference if we're to ignore the only thing that matters. -SH You: You ignore family on a whim, so I have no idea why this girl's relation to you matters. -MH Stranger: [Delayed] My attachment to the child confuses me as well. -SH You: Sentiment. -MH Stranger: Perhaps. -SH You: How do you propose to care for a child while still chasing after murderers? -MH Stranger: I'll have to take fewer cases or hire a nanny. -SH You: As you wish, brother mine. I will send someone to fetch the child. -MH Stranger: Thank you. -SH Stranger: I would have hated to be forced to inform Mother that you were leaving her grandchild in an orphanage. -SH You: I would have been forced to inform Mother that you left her grandchild behind in said orphanage while you chased around London. -MH Stranger: I didn't know the mother was pregnant. -SH You: You know as well as I do that that would matter little to Mother. -MH Stranger: Just get the child. -SH You: As gracious in your losses as ever. Andrea has been sent. -MH Stranger: New assistant or just a new name? -SH You: Just another new name. She seems to have a fondness for changing them. -MH Stranger: Understandable, really. -SH You: Mm. Regardless, I assumed you would want someone trustworthy to retrieve the child. -MH Stranger: She is acceptable. -SH You: She has a way with children, and top security clearance. She also speaks passable Serbian. -MH Stranger: I will not be satisfied until the child is here. -SH You: Patience has never been among your virtues. -MH Stranger: How long until she returns with Victoria. -SH You: Tomorrow, at the earliest, most likely. She will need to complete the necessary paperwork, and that is always time consuming, as well as travel time. -MH Stranger: That does give me time to prepare the nursery. -SH You: Yes, it does. -MH Stranger: Do nearly one year olds still sleep in cribs or should she be moved to a bed? -SH You: How much experience do you expect I have with children? -MH She can stay in the crib until she is two years old, roughly. -MH Stranger: You dealt with me. -SH You: You were not a typical child. -MH Stranger: I doubt my daughter will be. -SH You: One can only hope. -MH Regardless, children are usually able to climb out of the crib anytime between 18 and 24 months of age, so it is recommended that you put her in a bed at that point. -MH Stranger: Very well. -SH You: Any other questions? -MH Stranger: None that come to mind at the moment. -SH Stranger: (My internet glitched. Are we still connected?) Stranger has disconnected. You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like parentlock. Stranger: Did you just lose an rp? You: Yes Stranger: Mycroft and Sherlock? You: Yes. Mycroft's assistant was going to extract Sherlock's daughter from Serbia. Stranger: That was me! Stranger: My internet crashed. I'm sorry. You: It's fine :) Stranger: What was the last thing you sent? You: Any other questions? -MH Stranger: None that come to mind at the moment. -SH You: Very well. Would you prefer to meet Andrea at the airport with the child, or have her bring the child to your flat. -MH Stranger: I'll meet them at the airport. -SH

#sherlock BBC #Sherlock Holmes #Mycroft Holmes #parentlock

TW: blindness

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You both like johnlock, and femlock.

You: [Post Reichenbach, TW:blindness] As soon as she arrived back at the flat, Jane knew someone was there. She could smell the faint traces of the tea she had made that morning before she left, but there was something else as well. It wasn't Mrs. Hudson's perfume, a scent she was very familiar with as her well meaning landlady came up for a visit at least once a day. It wasn't Lestrade's cologne, another scent she was very familiar with, nor was it Mycroft's. Jane left her messenger bag and white cane by the wall, picking up the broom she had left there after cleaning the kitchen, gripping it hard as she stepped into the room. "Who's there?"

Stranger: Sherlock shifted on her feet, standing there awkwardly in the sitting room. There hadn't been a single good idea she'd had for a way to break the news to Jane without the possibility of scaring her - she'd figured in person was best. She'd hoped something about her smell or the way she moved would have clued Jane in so she didn't just have to break the news with her voice, but apparently that was exactly what she was going to have to do. "Ah. It's me. Sherlock. Hello. I... was hoping I wouldn't have to speak for you to know it was me, I know this is probably frightening but I can explain."

You: Jane frowned. The scent was indeed familiar (she doubted that she would ever be able to forget Sherlock's perfume), but it had been long enough that she hadn't recognized it. She counted on her sense of smell and her sense of hearing more than ever, after her accident, but Sherlock had already been dead by the time it happened, so she hadn't had time to commit subtle nuances about Sherlock to memory. Hearing her voice was very convincing, but... "Prove it." They could do a lot with computers now, she wouldn't put it past them to be able to imitate voices. "I saw her die. It will take more that her perfume and saying that you are her to convince me that it's really Sherlock."

Stranger: Moving closer, Sherlock stood within reaching distance of Jane, but eyed the broom cautiously. "Well. You can touch me if you'd like. I'm probably a bit thinner than you remember, but should be fundamentally the same. If you'd like some other sort of proof you'll have to give me a more specific idea - I feel like there's not much only I would know, thanks to your blog."

You: Jane tensed when the person (she wouldn't believe it was Sherlock, not yet) came closer, but didn't lash out. Unless they struck first, she wasn't going to hit them. "Who shot the cabbie on our first case?" she asked. That was something that hadn't gone on the blog, not the truth anyway. She grasped for anything else that she hadn't put on the blog. "What was the first thing I said to you when I showed up at the Palace, at the beginning of the Adler case?"

Stranger: Though she wanted to reach out, Jane was obviously still wary, and Sherlock couldn't blame her. She kept her hands in her pockets. "You shot him. And you-" It took her a moment, to think back, and then Sherlock grinned, and stifled a chuckle. "You asked if I was wearing any pants." She glanced at the broom again, then, having a feeling Jane was going to whack her anyways, even once she believed it really was Sherlock. A broom would probably only cause a bit of bruising, at least, and probably just her face and head. She could manage. She deserved it, really.

You: Jane scowled when she heard the laughter in the other person's voice. Sherlock's voice. No one else would know that, Mycroft hadn't been in the room yet even though the man likely knew that she had shot the cabbie. She'd resolved not to hit anyone unless they hit her first, but that was rapidly losing in the face of her anger. "Two years," she said, gripping the broom tightly. "Two bloody years you've been 'dead'. I mourned you. I had to watch my best friend..." She trailed off, her knuckles turning white from the force of her grip. Sherlock had better have a good explanation, or so help her, Jane was going to whack her.

Stranger: The smile that had lingered from the memory of Buckingham Palace quickly faded as Sherlock watched Jane's face - saw her anger and her sadness, and her white-knuckled grip on the broom. Just this and this other brief glance or two she'd gotten at Jane's grief hurt her deeply, even if she tried to hide it. Sherlock swallowed and shifted a little away from the broom. "I know, Jane. And I am... aware that you deserve an apology. So I'm sorry. I am."

You: "An explanation would be more welcome," Jane said, a small, grim smile lingering on her lips when she heard Sherlock shifting. Away from the broom, most likely. At least she remembered that Jane wouldn't hesitate to hit her if she deserved it (the punch during the Adler case was the only example currently, but this was likely going to be added to the list). "Two years, Sherlock! I thought you were dead! I thought that you had killed yourself because of bloody Moriarty and Mycroft and Lestrade arresting you, and that I couldn't talk you down."

Stranger: "If there hadn't been a plan in place, I would have killed myself because of Moriarty, but not the way you think." Sherlock weighed her words carefully before she spoke again. "You were in danger. Moriarty was planning to kill you, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson if I didn't jump. You were out of danger before I even pretended to jump, I got Mycroft's help with the whole thing, plans for every possibility - but still I had to go through with the plan, just in case. Moriarty had a network, you know that. People all over the world that could put everyone in danger all over again. So I took the opportunity of my forced fake suicide to fix that. And now I wrapped up most of my plans along that line, and my name's been cleared, I've come back."

You: "Mycroft knew," Jane said, latching onto one of the main pieces of information. "And if I was out of danger before you jumped, why did I have to watch? Why did I have to spend the past two years thinking that I couldn't stop the most important person in my life from killing herself while on the phone with me? While you were taking a vacation, I've been /mourning/ you. Mrs. Hudson's been mourning you. So has Lestrade. Anderson's gone round the bend, conspiracy theories about..." she stopped, expression twisting. "Well, they aren't conspiracy theories, are they? You're alive."

Stranger: Though Sherlock's heart skipped a beat as Jane called her 'the most important person in her life,' Sherlock was quickly distracted by the sting of Jane saying she'd taken a vacation. "It wasn't a vacation! You watched so that you would believe, and I spoke to you and said the things I did to try and make it easier. There was no certainty I'd make it back. I've been tortured, I've been beaten, frankly I never thought I'd be back. I thought the way I'd left would give you more closure than knowing I wasn't dead after all but only getting the occasional contact and then having it stop completely without warning."

You: "Well, you thought wrong," Jane snapped. "Knowing you weren't dead would have made up for that. Occasional contact would have been better than nothing." She didn't say what she was thinking, sticking to the safer objections. 'I would have helped you, I could have helped you', 'If you had told me I would have gone with you', and other things like that wouldn't do any good. It seemed that two years hadn't given Sherlock a better grasp of sentiment. "I lost people in war before, Sherlock. If you had suddenly been killed on your mission, I would have understood that. I would have mourned you, but there would have been closure. There is no closure when you fail to talk someone down from suicide, especially not the way you did it."

Stranger: Feeling worse as the conversation went on, Sherlock shifted awkwardly again - this time more of an uncomfortable squirm than an effort to get away from anything. "I didn't realize. I was trying to help, Jane, I was trying to make it easier. I didn't want to put you in any more danger, and getting in touch with you would have done that."

You: "I signed up for danger when I started sharing a flat with you," Jane said, hearing the shift again and ignoring it. "I shot a cabbie on the night we started sharing a flat. I was strapped in bloody semtex and ready to die with you because of Moriarty. I was taken 'hostage' by a madwoman who doesn't know the first thing about gun safety. Danger doesn't worry me."

Stranger: "I never said it did, Jane! I said that I didn't want you in more danger. If you had given even the slightest tell that you knew I was alive, someone could have come after you, tortured you, asked you where I was." Sherlock wanted to shout and scream and shake Jane by her shoulders to get her point across - that it didn't matter to her if she had died, as long as Jane had been safe. Still, that was too much. So she tried to get her desperation and sadness across just with what she said.

You: "I don't care!" Jane said, her voice raising. "I don't care if they would have came after me, came to torture me. It wouldn't have mattered! Before my accident or after, I can take care of myself." Danger to herself never worried her, whether it was the thought of the torture Sherlock was sure that she would have gone through, or near death from a variety of incidents before that, danger to herself had never worried her. "I thought the most important person in my life committed suicide in front of me /and I did nothing to stop her/!"

Stranger: Sherlock shrank back slightly, feeling guilty and ashamed. "I know you can. I would never say you couldn't. But you can't say you did nothing to stop me, you tried. There's only so much you could have done, and that was just what you did. You tried to talk me down, you even ran towards the building like you could catch me."

You: "And look what good that did," Jane said bitterly. "Knocked down by a bloody cyclist just as you hit the ground. My head was still spinning and they likely thought I was drunk, wobbling my way to where you were." Blood on the pavement, Sherlock's pale hand hanging limply as she struggled to find a pulse. She shut her eyes to block out the images, but it didn't do any good. She saw the same thing whether her eyes were open or closed now.

Stranger: "The cyclist was there to delay you, to make sure that you didn't get there until I was in place. And all the people on the street were homeless network or brought in by Mycroft." She watched Jane close her eyes and continued speaking in a small voice. "I landed on an air bag while you were behind the building, then we moved quickly and Molly tossed out a body so that was what you saw. Then the cyclist delayed you, that body was removed, I laid down, fake blood was put in place and I shoved a squash ball under my arm to make it seem like I didn't have pulse."

You: "I don't care how you did it." It didn't make it seem any less real. Her memories were still in vivid color, so Jane could remember everything about that day. Knowing it was fake didn't take away the pain, the fear, the loss. It didn't take away the times that she had sat in this flat, staring blankly at Sherlock's chair as though waiting for the other woman to plop into it and moan about the lack of interesting cases. "So Mycroft, Molly, and a hundred tramps knew, but you thought it was too dangerous to tell me."

Stranger: "Not a hundred. And who would believe them?" Sherlock stopped herself, realizing already that was only going to make Jane more upset. "Molly had to know, she had to get the body. And Mycroft had to know because otherwise the plan couldn't have happened at all. Mrs. Hudson didn't know, Lestrade didn't know, anyone else, including you, had to be convinced I was dead. It was the only way it would work. I'm sorry, I already said I was sorry, I don't know what else you want."

You: Jane scowled. What did the number of tramps matter? Sherlock's homeless network knew, but she wasn't able to know. One thing stood out, and she shook her head. "Mycroft is how you knew, isn't it? About my accident?" Sherlock hadn't been surprised by anything, by the fact that Jane likely wasn't looking directly at her, that even when they were in the same room, Jane hadn't been able to see her to recognize her. She had shrugged that off at the beginning, as there were dozens of more important questions, but that one seemed relevant now. "You kept tabs on me, while I was going to the cemetery to stand in front of your grave and blaming myself and everyone else involved for putting you there."

Stranger: "Yes." Sherlock cautiously moved back to within Jane's reaching distance. "I had to make sure you were safe. I almost came back when you had your accident, but Mycroft insisted I not. My name hadn't been cleared yet, it'd have been too dangerous." What she wanted to say next would probably only upset Jane, she knew, but she decided to say it anyways. Jane deserved to know. "I was there, the first time. When you first went to my grave, when you said those things. I heard you. It was the only time I followed you, just before I left London."

You: Jane couldn't stop herself that time, lashing out with the broom to hit Sherlock, hopefully in the abdomen or head, which she had been aiming for. Sherlock had been there while she basically poured her heart out to the gravestone (although she had said more incriminating things later), and Sherlock had done /nothing/. She wasn't as upset that Sherlock hadn't come back when she had her accident, that bit made logical sense, but this...if she knew she was close enough and that she could aim right, she would have broken Sherlock's nose. She wanted to strangle her with that blasted scarf.

Stranger: Unfortunately Jane did hit her in the stomach, not just with the bristles of the broom, and Sherlock grunted, curling up and moving back. That was one part of her that still hadn't fully recovered. "Could you use your hands to check and aim for my face next time, please? I'm afraid tortured wasn't a euphemism for picnicking." She glanced up at Jane even as she stayed bent over.

You: "If I go near your face at the moment, I'll strangle you," Jane said bluntly. She turned around and put the broom against the wall where it had been leaning before she turned it into a makeshift weapon, picking up her bag and her cane. She hated it, but it did help although she didn't need it in the flat. She sat both of them by her chair turning and making her way back to where Sherlock was, reaching out to palpate her stomach gently. Some things didn't require sight, after all. "It doesn't feel like you popped any stitches, although I would refrain from annoying anyone with uncertain aim with a broom for a few weeks." She didn't forgive Sherlock, not yet, but she wasn't able to not check when Sherlock mentioned she was injured.

Stranger: Sherlock blinked and straightened up, surprised when Jane checked her injury and put away the broom. "You do have plenty of reason to strangle me. I doubt I'd try to stop you." It was clear things still weren't all settled between them - Sherlock wished there was a way they could be. "Are there any other questions you have? Anything Mycroft might not have told me about that's happened to you? Should I make tea?"

You: "I can make tea, so obviously your brother left that out," Jane said, stepping away and going to the kitchen. She had to be careful when filling the kettle, and when pouring the hot water, but Mrs. Hudson had worked with her. She didn't like being too dependent on other people, and she often liked a cup of tea after a difficult day. "And I don't know what all Mycroft told you, so I don't know what he left out." [Also, I'm really enjoying this, but my internet is spotty sometimes. Do you want to exchange tags or tumblrs or emails or something, in case we get disconnected? It's fine if you don't, of course.]

You: [Did my reply go through? Sorry, but it says you're still typing so I'm not sure.]

Stranger: [Yes, but I guess mine didn't! I'll send again. Oh, and also, my email is if your internet goes.]

Stranger: "I know you can. It was... a peace offering of sorts." Sherlock followed Jane into the kitchen, hovering nearby just so as to not let her out of sight. She would have to be careful, then, about the things she said. She didn't want to make it worse - but she'd thought that tea would be a nice offering. Jane had always complained, before, that Sherlock always expected her to make the tea. Now, though, admittedly, it would be nice to have Jane's tea. Jane always made the best tea. "He only really told me the bad things. The accident, things like that."

You: [Thanks :) Mine's ]

You: "What did he tell, because there's not much that happened besides the obvious." Her almost marriage notwithstanding. Mark had been sweet, but she just hadn't been able to go through with it. Jane could only imagine what Sherlock would have said about that, however, so she doubted Mycroft had told her. "And I wasn't sure if it was a peace offering or you overcompensating because you weren't sure what I could do." That, she wouldn't have blamed Sherlock for, as all of her friends, including Mark, made the same mistake sometimes, offering to do something purely because they thought she couldn't.

Stranger: Sherlock shrugged out of habit and leaned against the counter. "The accident, the troubles with your job. That you'd been seeing your therapist." She watched Jane continuing her tea making and one corner of her mouth quirked up. "You ought to know by now I don't feel obligated to offer to do things for people. Besides, you specified earlier that you can take care of yourself. Unless you ask, I'll stand back."

You: "You were very apologetic, who knows what you would do to try to get back in my good graces. The fridge might actually only be used for food for a week or two," Jane said calmly, finding the teabags, sugar, and mugs easily while the kettle boiled. "The therapist wasn't much help." It hadn't been much of a surprise, but he could hope. "And it's a bit hard to be a doctor when you can't see your patients." She had managed to do some things, taking temperatures and doing anything else that she didn't need to rely on her sight for, but her medical career was mostly over at this point.

Stranger: "The fridge will certainly only be used for food, as long as you want it to be." Sherlock watched the tea be made, almost impatient to taste it again. She looked sadly at Jane, though, to have her theory that Jane couldn't work be confirmed. That had to be difficult for her. "Well we can find a way for you to help on cases. Most of what you do that helps me is listen and ask questions anyways. It'll be good." Still, now, Sherlock resisted the urge to bounce on her feet - Jane wasn't kicking her out, was making tea. Things could be all right.

You: "I can't chase you across rooftops anymore," Jane reminded her. She wouldn't be able to gauge the distance she needed to jump. "And you can imagine that I haven't used my gun either." Too much risk of hitting something other than what she was aiming for. "Most of what I do on cases is stand there and call you brilliant so you have a chance to preen like the vain prat that you are." She carefully poured the water, making their tea precisely how they each liked it. She held Sherlock's cup out in the direction she thought Sherlock was, picking up her own cup and taking a sip.

Stranger: There would be adjustments, Sherlock knew this. She'd have to be better at ensuring Jane's safety, consider Jane's limitations planning chase routes. It was worth it. The other remark Jane made, however, made her wince - it was rather too much like the voice she'd been hearing in Jane's place while she'd been away. "You postulate theories, point out the obvious. It can be helpful. Spark thoughts." When Jane held out her tea, Sherlock took it gratefully, lifting it to her face and breathing in deeply, blowing across it gently.

You: "And it lets you preen," Jane said, sipping her tea and leaning against the counter. "Granted, you're brilliant so the arrogance is deserved, but the preening was always amusing." She rarely begrudged Sherlock her grandstanding unless lives were on the line or the other woman had majorly annoyed her. "On the list of things your brother told you, did he tell you about Mark?" It sounded like Mycroft had only covered her professional life and the accident, but hadn't ventured into her personal life.

Stranger: Again, Sherlock resisted the urge to tell Jane to shut up - this was real Jane, after all. Fortunately - or perhaps unfortunately - distraction came along with Jane's next question. Sherlock wrinkled her nose, confused, and blinked. "Who's Mark?" Mark? No one had mentioned a Mark. Was Jane seeing someone after all? Was she planning to move out? Had she moved on? Sherlock was tense, grip tight on her mug.

You: "Mark Morstan," Jane said, setting her tea on the counter. "He worked at the clinic, he was hired a few months after you died actually. We dated for a bit, he proposed a few months ago." She knew Sherlock would notice the distinct lack of a ring on either hand, showing more clearly than words that Jane hadn't accepted the proposal. She liked Mark, enjoyed spending time with him, but...it had moved too fast for her liking. Proposing when they had only been dating a little over a year was rushing things.

Stranger: Proposed? Sherlock nearly dropped her mug, hot tea spilling onto her hands. But the flat showed no signs of anyone else living her, and Jane clearly still did, there wasn't a ring on her - oh. Sherlock looked back down to see that she hadn't spilled all of her tea, and she finally took a sip of it and hummed quietly, her eyes closing. When she opened them again, calmer, she looked at Jane. "You turned him down." She knew her relief was probably audible, probably not god, but she didn't really care.

You: Jane could hear the relief in Sherlock's voice, but she couldn't tell what prompted it, not without other clues. She mopped up the tea, cleaning Sherlock's hands and tugging her over to run cold water over them just in case before letting her wash off the tea. She made Sherlock a fresh cup after dumping out what little hadn't spilled. "I turned him down, yeah. It was...he was a good man, but it wasn't the right fit. He rushed it all, really, I think he was looking for a storybook ending. Me in a white dress walking down the aisle, a little house with two point five kids, the whole thing. He seemed to want that kind of security. I couldn't...I'd like a family, but I couldn't picture having one with him. I couldn't see myself married to him, sharing everything...no." Someone else already took up too much of her life, even far removed, for her to try to start over with someone else. "It was good while it lasted, but I didn't want to marry him."

Stranger: Sherlock let Jane clean her hands and take care of her and make her more tea, and found that she wasn't sure if she was pleased or disappointed that Jane couldn't see the incredibly fond expression on her face. Still, she managed to say, quietly, "Thank you." She listened to what her friend had to say about her almost engagement, and was glad to know she at least still knew Jane that well. Plain, boring domesticity didn't suit her. "I must say I'm glad that's the way it worked out. I'm not sure how much help you'd be to me if you were busy starting a family."

You: "Oh, I can imagine that you would still drag me along on cases even if I was starting a family," Jane said, not bothering to hide the fondness in her tone or on her face as she leaned back against the counter, sipping her tea. "You could have come back and found me pregnant and still drug me to a crime scene." She wouldn't have protested all that much. The type of life Mark had seemed to want had never appealed to her. While she did think about kids, she knew that she would never be able to go for ordinary domesticity. Body parts in the kitchen, bullet holes in the wall, and a consulting detective sulking on the sofa when there weren't any 'interesting' murders. /That/ was her version of domesticity, and she'd missed it.

Stranger: Smiling at the look on Jane's face, Sherlock didn't entirely manage to quiet a laugh at her comment. "Maybe a little one. One I thought was safe. I admit I wouldn't have just left you to sit around bored." It was laughable now that it was clear Jane had no more desire to settle down than Sherlock did. "Obviously now you don't have to worry about that at all - things will back to their old state shortly - as soon as I've made my return clear to Lestrade and Scotland Yard. They've been getting sloppy lately. They could use our help."

You: "Of course they could." Jane could just imagine what Lestrade would say when she turned up on a crime scene with Sherlock. "He'll think you've gone mad. I haven't helped them since the accident, obviously, although I did what I could after you 'died'." Things going back to how they had been sounded heavenly, although she debated whether or not to let it there. Sherlock had followed her on the first day she went to visit the grave, but she hadn't been there for any of the others, so she had missed a majority of what was said.

Stranger: "He's known me long enough to know I've always been mad." One corner of her mouth quirking up, Sherlock took a long sip of her tea again and sighed contentedly. "I have to say, Jane, that it's possible I missed your tea making more than I missed you. Haven't had a good cup since I left." The statement was part joking, partly a way to admit that she had missed Jane, but still wasn't very good at expressing those sorts of things. Still, it seemed remiss not to try and get it across to her friend somehow.

You: Jane snorted, the corners of her lips quirking up. "I have to say, I missed all of the mad things you do. I missed experiments in the kitchen, you stealing my gun when you were bored, and pretty much everything I thought I would never miss if you stopped doing them." Some of the things Sherlock did drove her mad, but it was what made her so undeniably Sherlock, and having them gone only reinforced the fact that Sherlock wasn't there. "Although, if you're keeping experiments anywhere in the flat, we'll need a way to work it out so I'll know what is what still."

Stranger: Though it took her a moment, blinking in confusion, to process what Jane had said, once she did, Sherlock smiled widely, her face lighting up. "I'll be sure to get back to routine as soon as possible then - but yes, I'll have to be careful of that. I'd like to set up in the kitchen again, on the counter, so you could just avoid there entirely. I'll keep anything that needs to be refrigerated somewhere specific, like the lower left drawer of the fridge, perhaps. And I'll do my best not to leave anything like an acid in an unassuming container. Though, still, once I get started again, best to sniff things just to check."

You: "Oh yes, sniffing random chemicals, what could go wrong?" Jane asked, rolling her eyes and shaking her head fondly. "I'm sure we'll work something out. As long as you keep your things in one area, it won't be difficult." She knew she would have to be careful once Sherlock got started experimenting again, however, because her friend could be scatterbrained about keeping things to the areas assigned for them. "I missed you playing too. I made Mycroft have someone tune your violin periodically and care for it, so it's still in perfect condition, in case you were worried. And your 'friend' the skull is still on the mantlepiece." Not much had been changed from when Sherlock lived there.

Stranger: She was more touched than she could express that Jane had made sure to keep her violin in good condition. She bit her lip. "Thank you." After moment, and a sip of tea, her voice and demeanor had become closer to her usual. "I did notice Billy was still there, that is appreciated as well. Though really he'd have been more useful when I was away than he will be now that I'm back and you're about. Your ability to speak back makes you a much better partner."

You: "Well, that is my goal in life, to be a better companion than the skull," Jane said dryly, smirking behind her cup of tea. "I knew that the violin was important to you, and I couldn't let anything happen to it. I don't know anything about taking care of violins or playing them, so I had Mycroft get someone to take care of it and keep it in good condition." She hadn't been able to let Sherlock's beloved violin be neglected, and her sentimentalism came in handy this time, as Sherlock would be able to use the instrument now that she was back.

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled and glanced down at her mug. "Yes, now I can go back to waking you up playing it at four in the morning. I'm sure you'll be delighted then that you've gone to such lengths to keep it in playable condition." With another long sip she finished off her tea and set down her mug, then focused her gaze on Jane, finally just looking at her after such a long time of not being able to. "Which bedroom have you been using? Still the one upstairs?"

You: "Oh, I'll probably still threaten to strangle you when you wake me up playing it," Jane said lightly, but she thought the relief was evident anyway. Back to normality, or what passed for normality for them. It sounded perfect. "I still use the same bedroom, yes. I clean in your room when I clean the rest of the flat, but otherwise everything is as you left it." She couldn't bear to clean anything up for the first few months after the funeral, and after her accident she relied on everything being in it's place to find her way around.

Stranger: The threat had an underlying fondness that Sherlock knew well, and it was good to have that back. She knew that Jane really would be upset if she woke her playing again, but Sherlock had missed even that in her time of complete solitude. Sherlock hummed with understand when Jane said her room hadn't been changed, or used. "I thought you might've, just out of convenience and a bigger bed - I admit I still probably won't be using it for a while. The space is too big, it might get cold. I'd rather sleep on the couch. It'll be nice to have pyjamas again, though."

You: "I knew where everything in my room was," Jane said simply, setting her empty mug in the sink. "So, I didn't use your room." She also hadn't been able to bear moving anything, too used to everything being where it was. Sherlock's room was Sherlock's room, whether Sherlock was there or not. "And sleeping on the couch will mess with your back, I told you that before. We'll get you thicker blankets if that will help, but most of your sleeping had better be done in a bed." She'd offer to sleep beside her if she knew that it would get Sherlock to sleep in an actual bed.

Stranger: Sherlock frowned, crossing her arms protectively. "My back is already messed with. The bed is too - empty, large. On the couch I'll be able to have cushions behind me and beneath me it'll feel safer." Safer. That was the concern. She was worried her room would be too strange, too cold, and she would have trouble sleeping, trouble with nightmares. The couch seemed much cozier. More obviously at home in 221b.

You: "Well, I want to minimize the damage done to your back," Jane replied, making a mental note to suggest a massage, whether by professionals or by her, if it seemed to be very bad. "I'll sleep in the bed with you if that's what it takes, both of our beds are big enough for it, but I'm not letting you do more damage to yourself than necessary." She understood the worry, she'd had the same problem when she returned from Afghanistan. She hadn't had anyone to help her, but she could help Sherlock.

Stranger: Looking at Jane with widened eyes, Sherlock tried to find some sign of reluctance, or a sign that she only felt obligated, or would be uncomfortable - or that she felt like she had to offer, but didn't really want to. None of those things seemed to be the case. Jane was genuinely offering to share a bed with her so that Sherlock could sleep in a bed. Letting out a sigh, Sherlock nodded. "Your room then. If you don't mind. Though I warn you that I may not be the best bed partner."

You: "I doubt I will be much better." She still had night terrors about the war, although their frequency had lessened after she moved into Baker Street. She had a new host of nightmares revolving around Sherlock's jump as well. "Just, fair warning. Don't touch me to wake me up if you notice I'm having a nightmare or night terror. Other time's, it's fine, but not then." She was liable to lash out, thinking that whoever was touching her was part of the dream. "It usually takes me a few minutes to get my bearings back as well."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded again, a habit she'd have to break. "Yes, all right. I don't think there should be any issue with you touching me if I'm having a nightmare, I just know before I went away I tended to move quite a bit. It may be less now, but just in case. Hopefully I won't kick - and you have my full permission to yank any blankets away from me if I appear to be stealing them."

You: "I've never been a blanket hog, but I know I tend to move all over if I'm having a nightmare or night terror. Otherwise, I usually don't move too much in my sleep." Jane could handle Sherlock moving in bed and stealing blankets, it wouldn't bother her. "Although if it's cold out I will likely steal the blankets up, and make sure to press my cold toes against your shins as punishment."

Stranger: With a laugh, Sherlock leaned closer to Jane, unbelievably happy. Everything was going to be fine - Jane was even going to share her bed. "I have my own cold feet to retaliate with. I admit I might cling to you in my sleep, though, if you've stolen all the warmth. If that ends up in you kicking me off of the bed whenever that happens, if you have a nightmare, I'll live."

You: "I won't mind the clinging," Jane said, smiling up in Sherlock's direction. "I like cuddling, I miss cuddling, so I won't mind if you cling to me." Maybe normal flatmates didn't share beds, they definitely didn't, but she couldn't care less. Sherlock was back, things would go back to normal, as much as was possible anyway. She'd gotten the miracle she'd asked for.

Stranger: Embarrassing as it was, Sherlock blushed slightly. Jane was talking about cuddling - with her. She couldn't help it. This time it was absolutely a relief that Jane couldn't see. "I admit, cuddling does sound... nice." Perhaps some of her previous experience could be considered cuddling - but that had been years and years, now. Not since University. And cuddling with Jane would obviously be infinitely better than that. It was Jane.

You: Jane smiled. The last person she had cuddled with had been Mark, and although that had been nice, she couldn't help but think that cuddling with Sherlock would be better than that. She wouldn't tell Sherlock that, of course. Not now, at any rate. Once things had settled, she would see how she felt. She knew that stress could play with emotions, so she would wait until after everything had settled to see what she felt. "Cuddling would be nice. My bed's not as big as yours, so cuddling's going to be necessary, most likely."

Stranger: "Yes, that's why I said your bed." Then, Sherlock realized how her phrase could have been taken. "Not that I was angling for a cuddle, that's not what I meant, just. Smaller. Smaller is better. Sorry. I know that... sort of tricking you into cuddling would have been not good, I wouldn't have done that." Sherlock was starting to realize that in spite of her own relief and happiness, there was a tentativeness to all of this - she was afraid that if she did something wrong, Jane would come to her senses and tell Sherlock to leave.

You: Jane shook her head, smiling at Sherlock's awkwardness. It was sweet. "I know what you meant, Sherlock, don't worry. And even if you had been angling for a cuddle, I doubt I would have been that upset. Just asking me is easier though, less stressful all around." She doubted that she would begrudge Sherlock the comfort, she would likely need some of it herself in the beginning, reassurance that Sherlock really was there. "It's all fine, relax."

Stranger: Nodding only to herself knowingly this time, Sherlock sighed, a long exhale. "Asking is good, yes, I agree." Jane's little 'all fine' comment was familiar enough to get her out of her anxious mindset, at least for now. It was clear that things would be at least somewhat different now, but the important things could be the same. And Jane had turned down the possibility of domesticity just because it didn't suit her - surely that meant she would still prefer Sherlock's annoyances to boredom. She'd almost said as much. "Are you tired, yet?"

You: "A bit. I didn't sleep well last night, got up early and went for a walk." She'd gone to Sherlock's grave, briefly, before going on a walk around the city. If she stuck to the parts of London that she knew well, she could manage on her own. She was rather good at coping. "Are you tired?" Without being able to see her, Jane didn't know if Sherlock was tired or not, although she clearly wasn't tired enough for it to carry over into her tone, which was something. "Pajamas and then bed, and we can talk a bit more too, if you want."

Stranger: It was good to know Jane had been doing things, then. She'd feared, on occasion, that her friend had been more depressed than she knew, particularly after her accident - but while it was clear she'd initially underestimated Jane's grief while planning her jump, it had not been all-consuming. Sherlock thought about her own level of tiredness, tilting her head. "I wouldn't mind lying down somewhere comfortable. I'll go and change, you can as well, then I'll join you in your room. I assume you'll be able to hear me on the stairs and tell me off if you're still changing and want me to wait."

You: "I'll probably be able to hear you. If not, it's nothing you haven't seen before," Jane said, shrugging as she headed up to her room, stopping to pick up her cane and bag. She did like Sherlock to respect her privacy, whether it was her bedroom or the bathroom, but in this case since she was expecting Sherlock, it wouldn't be that bad. And, truly, what was there to see? The scar on her shoulder, minor scarring from other wounds over the years. Sherlock walked around naked so much that Jane was pretty much desensitized to the infringement of privacy.

Stranger: Sherlock snorted. "I suppose that's true." Admittedly, seeing Jane mostly nude right before they were about to cuddle in bed together seemed a little different, especially when it'd been so long since Sherlock had seen her at all. Avoiding it would just be best. After a moment, Sherlock went to her own room, and got caught up for a moment, noticing that everything in her closet was the same as it had always been. She ran her fingers over her favourite blue dressing gown and smiled. It would be too warm for that tonight, though. She changed into just a t-shirt and pyjama shorts and with one last look over her own room, started out and up the stairs to Jane's bed. "Finished changing yet?"

You: Jane set her things in their proper spots, getting out an old t-shirt that was long enough that she didn't need shorts with, moving over to the bed and pulling down the sheets. She went to the bathroom to complete her nightly routine, stopping in the kitchen for a glass of water in case she woke up during the night. She had just sat the cup down when she heard Sherlock. "I'm decent, come in." It seemed a little odd now, but not in the sense that she regretted it. It was merely something different, something they hadn't done before, but she had to admit that she was curious about how it would work out. Hopefully well enough for them both to get a good night's sleep, if nothing else, she thought, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Stranger: With Jane's permission, Sherlock did come in, going over to sit on the bed next to Jane. She laid down then, though, sliding under the covers and wiggling around until she made herself comfortable. To Sherlock, this didn't seem as odd as she'd been afraid it might. Strangely good, in fact. "Laying down and talking until we fall asleep, then. Sounds a bit like a slumber party - though I admit I never actually attended any of those."

You: "I went to a few, but I never really was much of a slumber party person." Jane moved under the covers, laying on her side facing Sherlock since she preferred to sleep on her side or stomach. "What do you want to talk about?" There was no doubt that this would differ from slumber party material, but it didn't matter. This felt comfortable, and she thought Sherlock felt the same, so she was content. "We've got two years to make up."

Stranger: After a short groan, muffled by the pillow beneath her, Sherlock turned onto her side towards Jane, matching her position. "Well I don't think the time the Serbians kept me chained up without sleep or food makes a very good bedtime story. Let's not catch up what we've missed anymore, let's talk about something distracting - unless something interesting has happened here that might distract me. And if it hasn't - I don't know. We could tell mundane stories about when we were younger. I don't know much about your childhood."

You: "You will tell me about your time with the Serbians at some point." Jane agreed that it wasn't quite bedtime material, although she wasn't sure what else they should talk about. "Everyone, including your brother, has been trying to get me a guide dog," she offered. It was distracting, and she didn't feel like delving into her childhood at the moment. "He even managed to rouse Harry in a rare moment of sobriety to get her in on it. They thought I needed the companionship more than anything else, although they probably thought that the help would be nice too."

Stranger: "Just not tonight. Please." She said it quietly, and was relieved when Jane started talking about the guide dog. Sherlock blinked, then, and smiled. "It doesn't seem like you much need the help, but I admit I wouldn't object to having a dog around." The thought of a dog in the flat was certainly a nice one. To have it about when she got bored if it wasn't with Jane, to watch Jane play with it. "I could probably even be tempted to make the flat safe for that."

You: Jane chuckled. "I have my problems, don't let my competence fool you," she teased, smiling. "I've been considering it a bit, actually. Mrs. Hudson wouldn't mind a dog, I have the finances to care for one, and the time to devote to taking care of them. Some things really would be easier with the dog, and it would be fun to play with, maybe even take it to the park, let it out of it's harness so it can play a bit. We could look into it, if you want to." She thought the dog would be good for Sherlock too, someone to keep her company if Jane herself wasn't around.

Stranger: Sherlock's face broke into a full grin. "Yes, that does sound very nice." Her expression shifted, and so did her tone, slightly. "You know I can help again with finances if there's any trouble. Dog, rent, whatever's needed. I have more than enough money. I haven't been using much of it while I've been gone, there's still a nice chunk from all the cases from before."

You: "You'll have to pay your half of the bills, I'll manage mine. If it'll make you feel better, we can both handle the dog's expenses." Jane wasn't working, currently, but she had savings and she was looking for a job. "I'll find a job again, don't worry about that, and I'll make sure the hours are flexible enough that I can still help you on cases." She wouldn't give that up for anything.

Stranger: Humming, Sherlock scooted a bit closer to Jane. "That sounds fair. And yes, that last part sounds especially good. You'll feel better with a proper job and our job. You always do. I admit, though, I'll probably be less inclined to take cases or work on cases while you're busy. It's fine if there's one you don't want to go on for some reason, but I've had some trouble working on my own."

You: "You need someone to keep the Yarders from smacking you if you go too far," Jane said wryly, smiling. "It will be fine. You can help me job hunt if you want, make sure that it meets your requirements." She did feel better with a proper job as well as cases, so she wasn't surprised that Sherlock had picked up on that. She moved a little closer. "The dog will help then too, someone to keep you company on the day's I'm at work and don't take her." [I'm sorry, but it's getting pretty late here. Would you mind if we continued this through email?]

Stranger: [That'll be fine! :)]

You: [Do you want me to send you the log and my last reply?]

Stranger: [Yes, thank you, that would be great.]

You: [Okay :) I'll send it after we disconnect then.]

Stranger: [All right. Thank you! Have a good night!]

You: [Thanks :) Have a good night/day!]

Stranger has disconnected.

#Sherlock Holmes #john watson #sherlock BBC #femlock #fem sherlock #femjohn #tw: blindness

[TW: mentions of kidnapping and abuse]

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like johnlock, parentlock, mystrade, and kidlock. Stranger: [TW: mentions of kidnapping and abuse] Sherlock (7) ran as fast as his small legs could carry him. He'd been taken from his family at age five and held captive while enduring starvation, neglect, and both verbal and physical abuse. He was sure he had a broken ankle and at least one rib as he sprinted through the grass, eventually spotting a house. The clearly emaciated little boy made a beeline for the structure. Tears rushed from his eyes as he knocked on the door furiously. "Help me!" He screamed, knocking harder. "Please!" He begged, feeling lightheaded as the adrenaline began to wear off. You: Greg Lestrade (20) had just gotten home from work. The recently promoted Sargent had just helped finish a case involving a series of poisonings, and he was glad to rest after the running around for that case, as well as the mountain of paperwork his boss had shoved off onto him. He planned on relaxing, watching a little telly before calling it an early night, but apparently whoever was knocking on his door had other plans. He got up, hurrying to the front door, because it sounded like a kid and they sounded frantic. He was still cautious when he opened the door, looking out to see who was there. Stranger: Sherlock let out a cry as the door opened, looking up at the man with pleading eyes as he cried. "Please," he whimpered softly, curling his small hands in and out of fists, "Please let me in," he sobbed. Glancing a frantic look behind him, he turned back to the man. "They- They took me," he explained. "I don't wanna go back... please.... please don't make me go back with them," he begged softly, fright evident in his eyes. You: Greg looked around the boy, looking in the direction he had clearly run from, but he couldn't see anyone. The kid was in bad shape, clearly starved and neglected and he didn't want to think about what else right now. It was really much of a debate, stepping aside so the kid could come in. "Come in. I was about to make dinner, not much trouble to make a bit more." He'd been planning to order something, but the kid looked like he needed real food, not takeaway. Stranger: Sherlock darted inside quickly, immediately going to the point in the room farthest from the front door as he watched it with wide eyes, along with any windows. He kept his arms at his sides, shaking a small bit from both fear and cold. His small breaths were rapid as pain shot through his leg and lower chest. "Thank you," the little boy sobbed, still watching the door with unblinking eyes. You: Greg looked back at the boy, at how he was watching the door, before he locked it, the deadbolt and the lock in the handle, before going and closing the window blinds as well, repeating the action as he went into the kitchen. "Come here please," he said, keeping his voice gentle. "If you sit at the table we can talk a bit while I'm cooking. My name's Greg, by the way. Greg Lestrade." Stranger: Sherlock watched with wide eyes as the man locked the door and closed the blinds, making him feel that much more relieved. He tentatively nodded, limping slowly to where Greg was standing. He crawled up onto a chair at the indicated table and held his legs painfully to his chest. "I- I'm Sherlock," the boy said softly, tears beginning to slow only slightly as he watched the man. You: Greg nodded, rummaging in his refrigerator and pantry and coming up with what he needed to make homemade pizza. It wasn't ideal, but he hadn't been to the shops recently so he didn't have much. The boy's name jogged something in his mind, though, and before he could ask if the kid was hurt and if he could try to help him, he asked, "You don't happen to have a brother, around my age, named Mycroft, do you?" Stranger: Sherlock sat up straighter in an instant and nodded quickly. "Yes!" He cried, still nodding. "D'you know him? Can I talk to him?" He asked quickly, eyes wide with anxiousness now. "Please... I- I wanna go home. I wanna see mummy, and daddy, and Myc again," he mumbled in tears. You: Greg blinked, shaking his head as he pulled out his phone, scrolling through his pictures until he found one of him and Mycroft, taken about a month ago. He holds the phone out to Sherlock, wanting to make sure (although very few, if any, other people have names like Sherlock or Mycroft). "We're dating, kind of. He talks about you all the time, they've never stopped looking for you." Stranger: Sherlock took the phone in his own small hands eagerly. "That's Myc!" He cried upon seeing the photograph. It was his brother, though he looked a bit older. He wasn't entirely sure how long he'd held captive, as a result, his own age. He looked up at Greg with teary eyes as he held the phone back out. "I wanna go home," he said softly, voice small. "Can you take me home?" You: "I've never actually been to your house yet," Greg said, taking back the phone and shaking his head. He and Mycroft had only started dating recently, after all, and they hadn't gotten to the 'meet the family' stage yet. "I can call Myc, he lives not that far from here. I know he'll want to talk to you, without a doubt." He didn't doubt that Mycroft would come over tonight, regardless of how late it was. He dialed his boyfriend's number, hoping that he would pick up. Stranger: Sherlock's small eyes remained unblinking as his heart felt heavy with tension as he heard the ring of the mobile across the table. Mycroft rubbed his eyes as he reached across for the vibrating mobile off his nightstand. Blearily, he could see a photograph of himself and Gregory on the screen. Pressing 'Accept', he brought the phone to his ears. "D'you know what time it is?" He asked in a sleepy slur, no harm evident in his voice, only confusion. You: "Late, I know," Greg said, and ordinarily he would be apologizing, ordinarily he wouldn't be calling at all, but this was too important to wait. "I just got home, actually, and I'm glad I got here when I did. A kid turned up out of nowhere, begging to be let in so that whoever kidnapped him didn't take him back." That was the easy part, the part that would interest Mycroft but could have waited until morning. Now, for the hard part. "His name's Sherlock." Stranger: Mycroft sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes as he listened to Greg's story. He almost groaned out a soft 'So?' before he heard the last bit. Had he heard wrong? Sherlock. No, he'd heard Sherlock. The line went silent for a long moment. The brother he thought he'd lost forever was now at his boyfriend's house. The brother he'd lost a number of nights to due to the nightmares that followed. The brother whom had disappeared. "Is he hurt? Tired, hungry, thirsty, scared? Tell me everything. I'm on my way," he said, blatantly awake now as he tried to pull on a pair of trousers. You: Greg looked at the boy sitting at the table, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder while he kept working on the pizza. "He could definitely use a few good meals, which I'm working on now. I can handle thirsty, too. Hurt, it looks like he has something wrong with his ankle, maybe one of his ribs too. I didn't press for a full list. Definitely scared, the door's locked and the blinds are drawn, so you'll have to knock so I can let you in, but again, nothing more than I would expect. If whoever took him had him for the two years he was gone, I'm not surprised at the state he's in." He got a glass out of the cupboard, filled it with cold water and set it in front of Sherlock. "Small sips, or it will all come back up again." Stranger: Mycroft had nearly jumped out of the front door and into his car while holding the mobile to his ear firmly. He listened to every word as tears filled his eyes but he refused them to fall. He had to be strong for his brother. Anger burned inside of him for whomever had harmed a hair on Sherlock's head, let alone broke bone or refused him the proper care. He looked to the backseat of his car where he'd kept the little boy's stuffed bee for the entire two years as a reminder. "Tell him I love him," he ordered gently. Sherlock looked at the glass of water and reached forward with shaking hands, taking a few small sips. You: Greg looked at the little boy sitting at his table. "Myc told me to tell you he loves you," he said, putting the pizza in the oven and making himself a cup of coffee. He had a feeling this would be a long night and he'd need the caffeine to keep him awake. "When you get here you can tell him yourself, though," he added to Mycroft. "I won't let anyone take him away, he'll be right here waiting for you when you get here." He wouldn't press Sherlock for answers, especially not right now, but he would need to ask somethings. That could wait until Sherlock had been reunited with his family and settled in again. "I'm making pizza, and since I know you probably skipped dinner you can have some too." He didn't doubt that Mycroft had more important things on his mind right now than his diet. Stranger: ((I'm worried I may have to go soon... Would you be willing to continue over kik? I don't continue through email and, well, I love this.)) You: [I don't have a kik, I'm afraid. I usually do email, tumblr, or chatzy. We could use email or tumblr to meet back on here though, if you wanted, because I really love this too.] Stranger: ((Alright, it's no bother! My tumblr is 'bumblebeeyonce', and that is also my common interest on here along with 'lonelymundane'.)) You: [My tag on here is usually roleplay139, and my tumblr is beargirl1393.] Stranger: ((Okay! I'll add your tags if you'll add mine that way we'll have at least three in common. I've followed you on tumblr as well. I have to go now, but thank you for this and I hope to meet again soon! Best wishes xx )) Stranger has disconnected.

#kidlock #Kid sherlock #Mystrade #Sherlock Holmes #greg lestrade #Mycroft Holmes

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like catlock, teenlock, johnlock, and femlock. Stranger: So. I’m in bed. Wearing the deerstalker. xx JW You: That hat is horrid. -SH (f?) Stranger: [[ Make him/ her which gender you'd like, I don't mind. c: ]] Well, I thought I could maybe find a way to make you like it, though. JW You: If you have any interest in sex with me anytime soon, then that hat will be gone. -SH (f) Stranger: Don't be so bitter, come on. I look sexy in it. JW You: You look sexy in most anything, however that hat is an abomination. -SH Stranger: Want to come take it off me then? JW You: No. I would like for you to throw it in the rubbish. -SH Stranger: Sherlock, I'm trying to be seductive here, in case you'd like to know? JW You: I know you are. Adding that deerstalker to the mix ensured that you failed. -SH Stranger: Oh, shut up. I put on my red pants just for you! The really tight ones that you seem to be obsessed with. Fine though, I can tell when you're not interested. JW You: I'm not interested in that hat. Especially considering who gave it to me. -SH Stranger: Well, aren't you interested in the fact that I'm naked save for my pants and the hat, in our bed, waiting for you? JW You: I was enjoying the image of you in bed until you mentioned the hat. -SH Stranger: I still don't want to get rid of it. The hat is staying. JW You: Then you can take care of yourself. -SH Stranger: Oh but come on, that isn't fair! Just a quickie, Sherlock, please? I hate wanking by myself. JW You: You'll be wanking by yourself till Doomsday if that hat is still there. -SH Stranger: Don't you dare mention Doomsday while I'm trying to get it on. JW You: Doomsday is a turnoff? -SH Stranger: Yes. That episode plain hurts; not what I need to get off since my pompous partner won't come at least watch or something. JW You: Episode of what? -SH Stranger: Doctor Who. Doomsday. The one with Rose, when she.. Oh God. You're a real professional at ruining the moment. JW You: I've never watched that show John. -SH Stranger: Sorry. That's what I thought you were referencing. JW You: No, it was just a phrase to me. What happens in that episode that is so terrible? -SH Stranger: I don't want to talk about it. It's too soon. I'm not over it yet, okay? JW You: It's a TV show. -SH Stranger: It's /Doctor Who,/ Sherlock. It's more than a bloody telly show! JW You: To you. To me it is a telly show. So, what was so terrible about that episode? -SH Stranger: Prat. It's the episode where Rose and the Doctor are split apart from each other forever. JW You: Why? -SH Stranger: You know, I really ought not to tell you these things. 'Spoilers,' dear. JW You: I am never going to watch the show regardless. I simply don't understand why you're so upset. -SH Stranger: Well, a) you rejected sex from me. And b) you're making me recall one of the most traumatic episodes of my favourite tv show. I'm a little upset, yes. A lot bit upset, actually. JW You: I rejected sex because of the hat. And why the /hell/ is that episode that upsetting? -SH Stranger: It's a Russell T Davies thing. You'd have to watch it. Between the music and the events, and all the different universes, it's a lot to take in. JW You: Two fictional characters are unable to be together, and you are this upset? -SH Stranger: Well, yeah. I am. Problem? JW You: No, I am simply confused. -SH Stranger: How about, we both sit down one day and watch Doctor Who? And when you're the one curled up in a ball covered in jam and your own snot as the clock blinks well past 3 am, I'll explain to you why exactly it's so upsetting. JW You: I don't eat jam, I rarely cry, and I would not be curled into a ball because of a telly show. -SH Stranger: Alright, whatever helps you sleep at night love. JW You: Although that lovely glimpse into your psyche will ensure a few sleepless nights. -SH Stranger: Bastard. After Doctor Who, I'll have to get you started on that show with the two Americans and their angel. JW You: I am well aware of my parentage love. And I have no interest in either show. -SH Stranger: Fine. But that doesn't change the fact that I will be making you watch them someday, with me. JW You: And you will curl into a ball of snot and jam? -SH Stranger: Very funny. I already am. I hiss, occasionally, too. JW You: You are more hedgehog than feline. -SH Stranger: Hardly. I didn't really think I was either. Especially not a hedgehog; those things just sniffle and pout all day long. I don't do that. JW You: You are sniffling and pouting now because I wouldn't have sex with you and made an indirect reference to an apparently upsetting telly show. -SH Stranger: I do /not/ pout! Oi. And I don't sniffle, either. I cry like a real man cries. You know what, though? If you're withholding sex, then I am too. JW You: Which of us would that affect more love? -SH Stranger: Shut up. I don't need sex. I'll just use your panties to have a wank with. JW You: My panties will all mysteriously vanish. Except for the lace pair that you seem to like so much. Those I will wear around the flat. -SH Stranger: Fine. Then I'll just become a nudist, or something. JW You: And you believe I would have a problem with that? I turned up at the palace in naught but a sheet before John. Walking around our flat unclothed wouldn't be a challenge. -SH Stranger: .. Well, then, I'll just wank on your favourite arm chair and now clean it up. There. JW Stranger: *not You: Your Doctor Who videos will vanish. -SH Stranger: You do that and I will throw away every last experiment you have, Sherlock Holmes. JW You: Do that and you'll be lucky to have sex before the year is out. -SH Stranger: Fucking Hell. JW Stranger: Is it time for the rough make up sex yet? JW You: Ah, I win. -SH Stranger: Not true. JW You: How not? -SH Stranger: Just because I lost, doesn't mean you win. JW You: Yes, it rather does. -SH Stranger: Oh, shut up. JW Stranger: [[ I'm sorry, I rather need to go, but this was fun while it lasted. Adios c: ]] You: [Bye :) ] Stranger has disconnected.

#sherlock BBC #fem sherlock #Sherlock Holmes #john watson #johnlock #doctor who reference #supernatural reference

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like Sherstrade, Johnlock, Johnstrade, and Femlock. Stranger: I did something questionable last night. SH (m) Stranger: I think I should tell you. SH You: I'm officially worried. -GL (f) Stranger: Last night, I saw you. SH Stranger: Online. SH Stranger: Doing...stuff. SH You: Stuff? -GL Stranger: I wasn't looking for you. But I was just sort of browsing and there you were. SH You: You looked up porn and found me. -GL Stranger: I didn't look for you. SH You: Sherlock, calm down. I'm not angry. -GL Stranger: You knew it was there? SH You: I think my reaction would have been a bit more extreme if someone had made a porno of me without me knowing about it. -GL Stranger: Right. Yes. SH You: I'm surprised you never deduced that. -GL Stranger: And I suppose, come to think of it, you looked to camera often. SH Stranger: I try not to look into peoples sex lives. Unless it has any bearing. SH You: Well, I did what they told me to. I thought they had me looking at the camera too much, but I wasn't paid to question them. -GL Stranger: I think it was a tool to make you appear vulnerable. SH You: If you wanted vulnerable, I have ones that were made with specifically that in mind. -GL 'Course I was younger then, and my hair was dark. -GL Stranger: More than one? SH You: I started in my twenties, a way to make a bit of extra money. I actually enjoyed it though, so I kept doing it infrequently. -GL Stranger: Gosh. SH You: Gosh? -GL Stranger: I'm slightly stunned. SH You: I shocked Sherlock Holmes. Another item crossed off of my bucket list. -GL Stranger: Congratulations. SH You: Thanks. -GL Stranger: I shaln't tell anyone. SH You: As you might have noticed, anyone looking for porn will be able to find it. -GL Stranger: Well, yes. SH You: But thanks for the promise anyway. -GL Stranger: You have the body I always assumed you his underneath your awful shirts. SH Stranger: Hid* You: I like my shirts. -GL Stranger: They're awful. SH You: I like them. -GL Stranger: Well. Anyway. I'll be getting back. To the important things. SH You: Mm. Experiments and hounding me for cases? -GL Stranger: Yes. SH You: Enjoy, then. -GL Stranger: You like this. SH You: What, exactly? -GL Stranger: Seeing you naked has made me uncomforable and you like that. She You: I enjoy seeing, or rather reading about you being, wrongfooted. I don't know why you're uncomfortable though. -GL Stranger: I've seen everything. Its thrown me a little. SH Stranger: It's become part of your file. SH You: Oh, you haven't seen everything. -GL Stranger: What? SH You: You haven't seen everything. You've watched one film out of dozens, and I'm acting in every one. You haven't seen everything. -GL Stranger: Right. Yes. Alright. SH Stranger: I've seen you naked. SH You: And I have a few scars, too, which are covered up in the films. So, you've seen me airbrushed. -GL Stranger: Why? SH You: Why what? -GL Stranger: Why would they airbrush your scars? SH You: Because not everyone wants to face the reality that people have flaws. Smooth skin sells better.- GL Stranger: Have you made a lot? SH You: I started when I was twenty two and made my last one last year. You tell me. -GL Stranger: Last year? SH You: Mm. I don't make many these days. Not very professional, and me refusing to dye my hair is a bit of a dealbreaker for some of them. -GL Stranger: Why do you need to dye it? SH You: It's grey. -GL Stranger: It's very nice. SH You: I think so too, but sometimes it's not what they want. -GL Stranger: You don't see many young women with silver hair. SH You: That's the point. -GL Stranger: I see. SH You: Mm. -GL Stranger: You've stopped now? SH You: I'm considering it. I make one or two a year, not much income and it's really unprofessional. -GL Stranger: My word. You have aged remarkably. SH You: Let me guess, you searched for me? -GL Stranger: This one is from last year. And...yes very good. SH Stranger: I apologise. SH You: Why? -GL Stranger: Because when I know something I like to know it to the full extent. SH Stranger: I like to know everything I can about it and curiosity got the better of me. SH Stranger: I'm sorry. SH You: So? I made the films knowing they'd be mainstream. I can't fault you for watching them when a lot of others have done the same. -GL Stranger: You're in terrific shape. SH You: Comes from chasing after my consultant. -GL Stranger: Well, glad to be of service. SH You: Thanks. -GL Stranger: I shall stop now. SH You: Might be best. If you honestly want to watch them, I can give you a copy. Saves you paying for it. -GL Stranger: No. No it's fine. SH You: As you wish. -GL Stranger: I'm not saying you don't look great. SH You: I know Sherlock, it's fine. -GL Stranger: But if I watched it I'd...and that wouldn't be good. SH You: You'd...? -GL Stranger: Masturbate. SH You: So? -GL Stranger: I'm new to the whole friend thing, but Jane is teaching me and masturbating to a friends image is wrong. SH You: Jane would be right, but Jane also didn't make a side career out of making porn films, so she's wrong about it in this case. -GL Stranger: I hope she didn't. SH You: She didn't. -GL Stranger: She did a 'Babes of the Army' calendar in 2005. SH You: A pin up poster is a bit different, even though people still get off looking at it. -GL Stranger: Yes. I'm aware. SH You: I did a calender once, a few years ago. Something different. -GL Stranger has disconnected.

#greg lestrade #fem greg #Sherlock Holmes #sherlock BBC #possible sherstrade #femjohn

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like mythea, Sherstrade, Johnlock, Mystrade, kid!Lock, Fem!Lock, Mpreg, Lestrolly, Johnstrade, and Parent!Lock. Stranger: Primary school teacher + Pregnant = What the fucking fuck am I supposed to do if I start to have contractions. VWH You: Ideally, you would have stopped working by now. Most people take their last month off. -Mx Stranger: Yeah, but I wanted more time at home with the babies after they come. VWH You: And now you're having contractions in front of babies. -Mx Stranger: Yeah, I'm frantically trying to get a substitute as we speak. VWH You: If I knew it would help, I'd come in. -Mx Stranger: Can you be my substitute teacher? I mean, I know you don't have a teaching licence, but, you know. VWH You: Well, technically I do have my license. Just not for primary school, and it's been awhile since I thought about it. -Mx Stranger: I've been told I can shove my kids into my neighbour's classroom until I can get a sub if I can't find one. VWH You: Well, if they don't mind me not being exactly qualified, I'll come in. The day's likely mostly over anyway, isn't it? And Greg made me take the day off anyway. -Mx Stranger: But don't you want to help deal with me whilst being in pain? VWH You: If you can't find anyone else, I'll take care of your kids. If you find someone else, I'll take care of you. -Mx Stranger: Great. You're great. I just left my usual go-to sub a message that was quite literally 'PLEASE WORK FOR ME I AM IN LABOUR PLEASE' followed by sobbing noises. VWH You: Do you need me to pick you up? It'll be better than taking a cab, most likely. -Mx Stranger: Nah, I have a car. It's fine. I can drive. VWH You: No, you are not driving while you're in labour. -Mx Stranger: What, not allowed? VWH You: Precisely. I've done it, it's not pleasant. -Mx Stranger: It doesn't sound pleasant but I mean, I could do it. VWH You: And cause a wreck. No. -Mx Stranger: Also, I'm frantically looking at the baby name list Alex and I have picked, because, fuck, we don't have names. VWH You: You still have time. Your parents didn't decide on your name until after you were born. -Mx Stranger: We both want to do something that pays homage to our heritage. I want African names, Alex wants French. VWH You: African? And Alex is French? That, I didn't know. -Mx Stranger: Yep. I'm half Congolese and half Sudanese. Alex is 100% French. VWH You: Oh. Learn something new every day then. Regardless, my advice is the same. You have time. When you're holding them, you'll think of something. -Mx Stranger: I, personally, like Ata or Atsu. But apparently I shouldn't name my twins what roughly translates to twin.VWH You: Who says? -Mx Stranger: Says Alex. VWH You: Well, tell him that's rubbish. -Mx Stranger: Okay, I have a substitute. I'm crying. VWH You: I'm almost there. Have you been able to get in touch with anyone but me? -Mx Stranger: Yeah, I texted Alex. He replied with 'OH FUCK I AM IN FUCKING ITALY FUCKING FUCK.' VWH You: And your parents are out of town on a case. -Mx Stranger: So basically, as my oh so lovely husband put it, fucking fuck. VWH You: Well, since you have a substitute, you have me. And if you asked your uncle would likely show up too. -Mx Stranger: Thank you so much. I'll try to call dads, tell them what's going on. VWH You: You're welcome. What else did you expect when you texted me? -Mx Stranger: I was hoping for this, but I was expecting 'we're out of town too', seeing that that's all I've been getting. VWH You: No. Greg's working, he actually went with your parents, but I promised to take today off and I didn't want to go with them. -Mx Stranger: Well thank god for that. VWH You: ...Yes. -Mx Stranger: Because, holy shit, I'd be screwed. VWH You: I know, which is the only reason I'm grateful. -Mx Stranger: Oh? VWH You: It's nothing. -Mx Stranger: I want to know. VWH You: Greg just worries too much, I'm fine. -Mx Stranger: Greg and Alex should have tea and worry about stuff together. VWH You: Exactly. We had a row, which did wonderful things, and he ran off with Sherlock and John after making me promise to see a doctor. -Mx Stranger: Ah, lovely. VWH You: Yes. -Mx Stranger: I'm still crying. I'm officially crying whilst laying on my desk. Victoria Watson-Holmes = winner. VWH You: It'll be fine. I'm here now, do you want me to come in? -Mx Stranger: Yeah, sure. VWH You: Okay. I'll be there in a few minutes. -Mx Stranger: You know where the classroom is, yeah? VWH You: I've come to visit you before. -Mx Stranger: Just making sure. VWH You: I know my way around. -Mx Stranger: Again, just making sure. VWH You: I know. -Mx Stranger: Still laying on the desk. VWH You: I'm almost there. -Mx Stranger: I have no more children, they're in another classroom now. Praise the lord. VWH You: Well, you have two children on the way. -Mx Stranger: Well, yeah, they're probably not coming too horribly soon. I hope they're going to wait until their daddy shows up. VWH You: It depends. Since this is your first pregnancy, it can take longer. Sometimes though, the babies are in a rush and don't wait around. -Mx Stranger: Their daddy's coming before they do. VWH You: We'll hope so. -Mx Stranger: How awkward would it be if my husband missed his children's birth. VWH You: Ask Greg, he nearly did the same. Or Mycroft. -Mx Stranger: Oh, man, awkward. VWH You: Extremely. Greg got there just as the action started, thankfully. -Mx Stranger: Thankfully, Alex has access to a private jet. VWH Stranger: So I just need to not start pushing for like.... 2.5 hours. VWH You: Tell that to your twins. -Mx Stranger: I did, twice. VWH You: Well, let's hope they listen. -Mx Stranger: Praying that they do. I have an instructional assistant talking to me. VWH You: Well, tell them to help you off of the desk, I'm two doors away. -Mx Stranger: I'm scooting. VWH You: Good. At the rate we're moving, I'll get to the door by the time you're halfway there. -Mx Stranger: Rude. VWH You: Truthful. -Mx Stranger: ...Yeah. VWH You: See? -Mx Stranger: But not in the nice way. VWH You: I could apologize. -Mx Stranger: But it's too late. To apologise. Too laaaaaate. VWH You: Mm. -Mx Stranger: Do you not appreciate my 2000's boy bands reference. VWH You: No, sorry. -Mx Stranger: Wow. I thought the one in labour was always right. VWH You: That's if you're talking to men, dear, especially the one who did that to you. -Mx Stranger: Yeah, Alex is sort of wrapped around my finger right now. VWH You: Exactly. No need to have me agreeing with you too and letting you get a big head. -Mx Stranger: I already have a big everything else. VWH You: It's just baby weight. You're gorgeous. -Mx Stranger: Shall we open this can of low self esteem while I'm in labour? VWH You: We might as well, we'll need something to discuss. In person, however, since I'm here. -Mx Stranger: Hurrrrrrrrrrrry. VWH You: Calm. -Mx Stranger: Huuuuuuuuuuuuurry. VWH You: [no response] Stranger: Please? Are you like, right outside my door? VWH You: Yes, I am, which is why I didn't respond. -Mx Stranger: I'm sitting here on my desk. Almost standing now. VWH You: See? Perfect timing. -Mx Stranger: Where even were you? Did you just stop to chat with my kids? VWH You: Yes, they have a card for you. Apparently, the person watching them had planned for this eventuality. -Mx Stranger: Awwww! VWH You: Yes, I thought you'd appreciate it. -Mx Stranger: That's so sweet. VWH You: It is. -Mx Stranger: My kids are great. VWH You: They are. -Mx Stranger: Now. Hurry. VWH You: I am. -Mx Stranger: I'm officially standing. VWH You: I'm opening the door. -Mx

#Molly Hooper #victoria watson holmes #lestrolly #implied johnlock #pregnancy

#sherlock BBC #greg lestrade #Mycroft Holmes #Mystrade #parentlock

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like parentlock. Stranger: (TW: PTSD) When did you first notice I had PTSD? -JWH (Sent to teenage Hamish)\ You: Why do you ask? -HWH Stranger: We're talking about it in support group. How our families reacted. -JWH You: Oh. Um...it was ages ago, really. -HWH Stranger: What did you notice? -JWH You: You shouted, during a nightmare. Night terror, actually. You don't always do it, you're quiet a lot of the time, but you sometimes shout. -HWH Stranger: Yeah, Sherlock's told me that. -JWH Stranger: How did he explain me going to the hospital? -HWH Stranger: *JWH You: He didn't. -HWH Stranger: What? -JWH Stranger: He just told you I was gone? -JWH You: He didn't tell me anything. You just...were gone, and he didn't answer when I asked where you were. -HWH Stranger: God, Mish, I'm so sorry. -JWH Stranger: Do you remember why I went? -JWH You: It's not your fault, Dad. -HWH You: I never found out why you went, no. -HWH Stranger: Do you want to know? -HWH Stranger: *WH Stranger: *JWH You: Do you want to tell me? -HWH Stranger: I think you're old enough. -JWH Stranger: If you want to know. -JHWH Stranger: *JWH You: Thanks for making that decision. -HWH Stranger: Do you want to know? -JWH You: Yes. -HWH Stranger: Once, in a flashback, I took a gun and pointed it at your father. Then I attacked him. -JWH You: That's...well. -HWH Stranger: Yes. -JWEH Stranger: *JWH You: You never did that to me. You just shouted at me. -HWH Stranger: And I shouldn't have done that. -JWH Stranger: I was very sick, Misha. -JWH You: It wasn't your fault. You thought someone was shooting at us. Then you kind of tackled me, holding my leg and muttering something about not letting me bleed out. -HWH Stranger: How old were you? -JWH You: I...doesn't matter. -HWH Stranger: Hamish. -JWH You: Dad? -HWH Stranger: How old were you? -JWH You: It wasn't your fault. -HWH Stranger: Please. -JWEH Stranger: *JWH Stranger: I need to know. -JWH You: You didn't hurt me, Dad. You thought you were trying to save me. -HWH Stranger: Under ten? -JWH You: ...Yes. -HWH Stranger: Jesus. -JWH You: It's fine. -HWH Stranger: I'm still sorry. -JWH You: It wasn't your fault. -HWH

#parentlock #john watson #johnlock #hamish

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like mystrade. Stranger: [tw: possible rape, your decision] Anthea? I woke up in my hotel room naked and with a throbbing headache. Something is wrong. You need to help me figure this out before I can contact Gregory. MH You: There is a rather simple explanation, Sir. -A Stranger: Go ahead. MH You: You had rather too much to drink last night, as you seemed to be missing Mr. Lestrade. -A Stranger: Then why am I naked? I never sleep naked. MH Stranger: And... I feel like I have had sex last night. MH You: About that...-A Stranger: Yes? MH You: I got you back to your room before you could embarrass yourself, but you got sick not long after we entered the room. -A I took your clothes off to get them washed and tried to convince you to have a shower. -A Stranger: Right. MH And the sex...? MH You: Again, about that...-A Stranger: Go ahead, please. MH You: You obviously weren't in your right mind, Sir. -A Stranger: When I did what exactly? MH You: ...You did have sex last night. -A Stranger: With whom?! MH Stranger: Gregory is back in London! MH You: I know, but you have always been an amorous drunk. -A Stranger: I am aware of that. MH You: Which is why you had sex last night. -A Stranger: Who did I chat up in my drunken state? MH You: That is rather the good news. -A Stranger: Please tell me it was Gregory, however that might be possible... MH You: ...If it would make you happier, it was no one who is a security risk, they won't run to the papers, and they most certainly will not tell Mr. Lestrade. -A Stranger: [delayed] It was you? MH You: ...Why would you assume so, Sir? -A Stranger: It sounded like it. And you were the person to be back in the hotel with me. MH You: Yes. -A Stranger: Oh god... MH You: You were drunk, Sir. It wasn't your fault. -A Stranger: Why did you consent to this?! MH You: Um...-A Stranger: Anthea... MH You: Yes, Sir? -A Stranger: Why? MH You: ...I didn't. -A Stranger: No. MH You: Sir...-A Stranger: Please tell me this is not true. MH You: Sir...-A Stranger: Go ahead. MH You: I can't tell you isn't true. -A Stranger: What happened? MH You: Do you remember anything? -A Stranger: No. Nothing. MH You: Perhaps that is for the best. -A Stranger: Anthea... Do you want to quit working for me? MH You: Do you wish for another P.A? -A Stranger: I could never wish for another P.A. I am just thinking of you here. MH You: I will be fine, Sir. Besides, no one is able to do my job as efficiently as I do, you have said so yourself. -A Stranger: I know. MH You: So, I will not resign. -A Stranger: Thank you. MH Stranger: And please tell me if there is anything at all I can do for you. MH You: Refrain from drinking in excess unless you are with Mr. Lestrade. -A Stranger: I will. Of course I will. MH Stranger: I am so unspeakably sorry, Anthea. MH You: It is...well, it is rather far from 'fine', but it will be. -A Stranger: Are you sure? MH Stranger: I will of course pay for any therapy you should wish to obtain. MH You: I despise therapists. -A Stranger: Of course. MH You: So, no therapy. -A Stranger: Anything else? MH Stranger: A holiday somewhere, all expenses paid for? MH You: I don't have time for a holiday. -A Stranger: Do you want to accept any help from me? MH You: Sir, I don't like therapy. I despise having people trying to pick my brain. And with how much we work, I do not have time to take a holiday. That is why I turned you down. -A Stranger: Of course. MH Stranger: As I said - anything else, tell me. MH You: What else would I need? -A Stranger: I have no idea. MH You: Precisely. -A Stranger: I have to tell Gregory. MH You: Unless you want to, you truly don't have to. -A Stranger: I cannot hide this from him. MH Stranger: I am disgusted at myself and I deserve a punishment of some sorts for this. MH You: You made a mistake, Sir. It isn't as though you forced someone off of the street to sleep with you. -A Stranger: I forced you to sleep with me. That is worse. MH You: You were drunk, Sir. Very drunk. -A Stranger: You trusted me. MH You: I still do. -A Stranger: Why? MH You: Because, one mistake doesn't ruin everything. I have many reasons to trust you. -A Stranger: How can you trust me after I forced myself onto you? MH You: Because, if you will forgive me Sir, if I was in my right mind I could have overpowered you with little effort. -A Stranger: Why did you not do that, then? MH You: Because I wasn't in my right mind. -A Stranger: Why not? MH You: For one, I had drank as well. Nowhere near the level you had, Sir, but enough to make my reactions a bit slower. -A Stranger: And? MH You: Secondly, I hadn't expected an attack of that sort from you. -A Stranger: Attack. MH You: Sir...-A Stranger: Yes? MH You: It wasn't...it was a surprise, certainly, but it wasn't... you were as gentle as your drunken mind let you. --A Stranger: How lovely. MH Stranger: It was still rape, was it not? MH You: As I did not consent, yes. -A Stranger: Exactly. MH Stranger: Just... I need to know this. Did you tell me to stop? MH You: Sir...-A Stranger: Please. MH You: [delayed] Yes. Twice. -A Stranger: And I reacted...? MH You: The first time, it might have been too soft for you to hear it. I was...well, I was rather stunned and so I couldn't find my voice at first. -A Stranger: Right. MH You: So, you didn't respond to the first time. -A Stranger: And the second time? MH You: The second time...you did respond. -A Stranger: How? MH You: ...It isn't important, Sir. -A Stranger: It is to me. MH You: You will likely feel worse. -A Stranger: It does not matter. MH You: It does. -A Stranger: Anthea. How do you want to continue with this? MH You: Well, evidently how you felt was the most important thing last night, so forgive me for keeping to that. -A Stranger: How did I feel last night? MH You: You were lonely and desired comfort of any sort you could have. Alcohol, food, and then...well, sex. -A Stranger: To which you did not consent. MH Stranger: I could have easily ordered a callboy instead. MH You: That would have been a security nightmare. -A Stranger: True. MH Stranger: I could have asked you to sleep with me. MH You: Well, you did technically ask. -A You simply didn't give me an option to refuse. -A Stranger: Right. MH You: And you listened the third time I told you to stop. -A Stranger: Did I? MH You: Yes. After...after you finished and you ensured that I did as well, you asked to cuddle. -A Stranger: I ensured you would enjoy it? MH You: As much as you could. -A Stranger: Right. MH Stranger: I have no idea how to think of this. Or how to continue. MH You: Sir, you know that...sexual relations have never been on my radar. -A Stranger: Yes. MH You: So...you didn't...well, you did....but you didn't...-A Stranger: Please just speak freely. MH You: I have never been interested in sex, before or since, so you haven't ruined any of this. -A Stranger: Oh. Right. MH You: So, you have one less thing to feel guilty about. -A Stranger: And yet. MH Stranger: In just one night I betrayed my loyal partner and I forced myself onto you. MH You: I...well, I cannot say that I consented, or that I enjoyed it, but...I'm not entirely sure where I can go with that. -A Stranger: What do you mean? MH You: I was going to try to comfort you, but I had no idea how to. -A Stranger: I feel like you would be the one to need comfort. MH You: Well, as you were panicking, one of us needed to try to be calm? -A You: *. Stranger: Yes, of course. MH You: So, I needed to comfort you. -A Stranger: Thank you. MH Stranger: (This was way different than I thought of but I loved it! Thank you so much for responding. I have to go now but I feel like it's a good point to cut anyway. Thanks again!!) You: [This was fun :) Thanks for an interesting rp!] Stranger has disconnected.

#Mycroft Holmes #anthea #implied Mystrade #Mystrade #tw: rape

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like Wing!Lock, Cat!Lock, HolmesCest, SherStrade, JohnLock, MyStrade, Kid!Lock, OmegaVerse, MPreg, Holmes/Watson, and Parent!Lock. You: I know it's been a while since I talked to you, and I apologize for that. I said in my note that I had to get away for a bit, try to find myself, and that's what I did. I found a job and a flat. I started dating a girl I met at a club that I'd gone to out of curiosity. It was nice, while it lasted. She ended up pregnant, and I talked her out of aborting. She didn't want anything to do with it though, told me that it would be up for adoption if I didn't take it. I decided to keep it, so now you have a grandchild. I thought you should know. It's a little girl, and she's perfectly healthy. She was released from the hospital a few days ago, and she and I have formed a pretty good routine. I have a bit of time off, paternity leave I guess, so I've been using it to get everything settled. She's sleeping now, so I decided to write this. I've been putting off telling you until now, but I did want you to know. I'd be happy if you want to meet her, be a part of her life, but I understand if you don't. I've been gone for a little over a year now, but I do miss you and would like for you to meet your granddaughter. It's up to you, though. I'm not giving her up, but I don't want to lose my family completely. It was easier to tell you this way than calling or visiting. I'm sorry for not talking to you in a while, like I said, but I needed time to think about I wanted to do with my life. I didn't expect this to happen, but now that it did I'm handling it. I'm sorry if this is a shock, and I hope to hear from you soon. Love, Your son Stranger: We understand. Truthfully your father and I never expected you to hang around this long. We don't exactly have a traditional relationship but we wanted to have you. You mean the world to us and we will always love you, you know that. You should have seen Sherlock's smile when he read your letter. He is so very proud of you, we both are and if you want us to be a part of her life then it would be our genuine pleasure. Though we understand completely if you don't want this. Take your time, she is still young. Perhaps if you still want this we could get together for Christmas? It is so wonderful to hear from you. Please call us if you need anything. We are here to help. Hope to hear from you again soon. Love, Mycroft Holmes. You: I never really liked traditional, so your relationship never bothered me. It was confusing, calling him Uncle Sherlock in front of people and Dad when we were alone. I am glad that you had me, because I love you both. I do want you both to be a part of her life, honestly. I only left because I wanted to find out what I wanted to do with my life. Now I have Aria, as well as my job, and I am pretty happy with my life. The only thing that can make it better is if you and Dad really do want to be involved with her life. I know she is still young, but I want her to know her grandfathers, even if we have to teach her discretion like you two did with me. Getting together for Christmas sounds perfect. I haven't really had time to go shopping though, so I might turn up empty handed. Love, Aiden Stranger: That is fine, love. We don't need anything, you giving us a grandchild is better then anything we could recieve. Knowing you are happy is the best gift in the whole world. We will set up the house properly and you can come over whenever you are ready. Your room is just as you left it and we can buy a crib for her. We will work it out, promise, don't worry about anything. Your father is more excited then I have ever seen him, he misses you terribly and he is desperate to meet Aria. We hope see you soon, little one. Love, Mycroft Holmes. You: I'm not so little Papa, but thank you. For everything. I am very glad that you and Dad do want to meet her and are looking forward to it. I'm very happy now, and I'll be happier still when I can see you and Dad again. Even though I still think my running off was a good idea, I really did miss you both. I included a picture of her this time, so you don't have to wait until Wednesday to see her. The nurse took it when Aria and I were leaving the hospital. You can't tell because of that hat, but she has a little tuft of ginger hair. See you soon. Love, Aiden Stranger: A ginger, a true Holmes. We are both so very proud of you Aiden. She is utterly beautiful, she looks just like you only much more beautiful. She is a very lucky girl to have a dad as amazing as you. Sherlock went out the other day and bought a tree, he spent all night decorating the whole house and I found him asleep in a pile of tinsel in the livingroom the next morning just like I used to find the both of you. He hasn't been this happy in a long time and I need to thank you so much for causing this. We will see you at christmas, the flat has felt empty without you, little one. We have both missed you so much. We are looking forward to seeing you and meeting her. Just a few more days. Merry Christmas. If you need a car sent don't hesiatate to ask. Love, Mycroft Holmes. You: I think she will have Dad's eyes, unless they change color. They're supposed to change until she's six months old, but I hope that her's stays as they are. She's even more beautiful in person. I'll have to threaten all of the little boys and girls she manages to snare when she's older. I miss decorating the tree and flat with him. We'd both fall asleep in the decorations and you'd wake us up after you started baking cookies, and we'd have cocoa and cookies for breakfast, just that one day. I didn't really decorate my flat this year, another good reason to visit. Merry Christmas Papa, and tell Dad I said Merry Christmas too. Could you send a car? It might be easier, with Aria and her bag and everything. Love, Aiden Stranger: Your father had the brightest blue eyes when he was born but they darkened for almost a year and then came back even brighter after that. God he was so beautiful. She reminds me of you both so much, so beautiful, so perfect. I do not doubt that. Don't worry, Sherlock will be more then willing to help you with that task. I'll wait for you then, we can bake when you get here, have cocoa and cookies on Christmas morning. It will be there first thing. Take your time. I'll make sure they have a carseat ready for her. We'll be waiting for you, neither of us will duck off to work, not matter what, promise. Love, Mycroft Holmes. You: Not even if there's a national security crisis or a case that is a ten? I feel very special now Papa. I think you are pretty perfect too, and I know Dad thinks you are beautiful. Cookies and cocoa on Christmas...I missed not doing that last year, but it felt wrong since I wasn't with you two. I have everything actually packed and ready to go, I'm a bit excited. I can't wait to see you and Dad again. Aria's excited too, as much as is possible for her at this stage, but she's excited. I don't think my flat needs decorated this year, since we'll be spending the day with you and she's too young to care about decorations anyway. See you soon. Love, You: *Aiden Stranger: Both he and Sherlock were curled up on the couch together Christmas eve, reading though the messages. Sherlock had on the same incredable bright smile he held when Aiden was first placed in his arms. It just made him love his brother all the more. The flat was more decorated then it had been in years, since Aiden still believed in Santa. The huge tree in front of the window, lights flashing away. They had set up the new crib in Aiden's bedroom, not really having anywhere else to keep it. It took Mycroft a long time to convince Sherlock into bed but they still layed awake for hours, far too excited at the prospect of meeting their grandchild, in Serlock's case, his biological niece for the first time. They were up early the next morning, checking everything and Mycroft sent off a text a few times to make sure the car was picking their son. Now all they had to do was wait. Mycroft busied himself setting up everything he wouuld need to make biscuits and cocoa while Sherlock spent almost an hour rearanging the presents under the tree. You: Aiden had spent the past few days in a state of excitement. He was going home to visit his parents, they accepted his daughter, and everything was going well. He got Aria dressed in her warmest clothes one Christmas Day, smiling and talking softly to her about what was going to be happening that day. He hadn't been able to completely refrain from getting his parents gifts, no matter what his Papa had said. He bought the elder man a box of his favorite pastries, and his dad got a book about unsolved cases. He knew the other man would be able to solve some of them without much effort, but he hoped that others stumped him a bit. He got into the black car when it pulled up, buckling Aria securely into the carseat and sitting her bag and the bag with the presents on the floor. The ride was over shortly, and soon enough he was knocking on the door of his parents' flat, Aria in his arms, bag of presents in hand, and diaper bag over his shoulder. Stranger: Sherlock almost skipped down the stairs. "Oh Sherlock, you will hurt yourself," Mycroft warned. Both men looked nothing like themselves, in comfortable trousers and knitted christmas jumpers that matched, a playful gift from Adien from a few years before that Sherlock had found while digging out their christmas things. "No I won't," Sherlock grinned back as his lover stood at the top of the stairs wiping his hands on a tea towel as Sherlock though the door open, his face completely open showig his pride and happieness when he found their son on the other side. "Aiden," he breathed reaching out to cup the boy's cheeks and kissing him lovingly since there was no way to hug him properly with the baby girl between them. "Hey there Aria. Aren't you beautiful," he cooed then reached out for the bags. "Here, let me. Come on in, its cold outside. Oh we have missed you," he rambled quietly leading him upstairs into the flat past Mycroft. "Oh little one, look at you. You look so happy." You: Aiden chuckled. "Still as energetic as ever Dad," he said, letting himself be led into the flat, giving his Papa a smile when they passed him. "No looking in the bags Dad," he warned, waiting until they were actually in the flat before turning and passing Aria to his Papa, taking the bags back from his Dad. "I am really happy, just to be back with you both, but also because of Aria. You're grandparents now." The infant wiggled a bit, waving her small hands around. Aiden chuckled. "I actually found her a pacifier that has a skull on it Dad, and an outfit that has little umbrellas on it Papa. She has the best of both of her grandparents' fashion choices." He looked around, noting the decorations and smiling. "You haven't gone all out like this since I still believed in Santa. It's perfect, although I don't know why I'd expect anything else." He gave his Dad a proper hug, giving his Papa a more careful one. "Merry Christmas." Stranger: "Do you ever think that will change?" Mycroft asked playfully, kissing Sherlock's cheek and chuckled when Sherlock moved to peek in the diaper bad instead of the preasnts. Mycroft took Aria happily, resting the little girl in his arms and cupping her head. When her hands waved he moved her into one arm so he could offer his fingers to her, ticking her chest playfully. "Oh dear, she's goig to be terrible when she gets older," Mycroft laughed rocking her gently as Sherlock passed the bags across and wandered over to meet the little girl. "No, but its her first christmas, had to make sure we wernt all out," Sherlock offered turning to Aiden and wrapped arms around him, kissing across his cheek and temple lovingly. "Merry Christmas, dear one. How we have missed you... If you miss Christmas again you won't be allowed cocoa," he warned clinging to his son. "I don't care where you are, finding yourself, finding the love of your life or making us another grandchild. You aren't allowed to miss chistmas," he warned playfully. You: Aiden chuckled, hugging his Dad and shaking his head. "I promise, I will not make you another grandchild or do any of the other things on Christmas. The threat of missed cocoa is too dire. I don't have any plans of making you another grandchild anytime soon anyway." He shook his head when he noticed his Dad had looked in the wrong bag. "I missed you both too, a lot. Christmas wasn't the same without you too, but me leaving to find myself ended in Aria, so I think she is worth that one time." He smiled when he watched his Papa playing with Aria. "I brought presents for you both, even though I wasn't supposed to. I think you'll like them." He was so glad to be back. Nothing beat Christmas with his family. "I promise you both I will not miss another Christmas without advanced warning. And even if I do have to miss, working or whatever, then Aria will definitely be here with you, that much I promise." Stranger: "Thank you, my dear, that means so much," Sherlock breathed, gently releasing him and Mycroft motioned him over. "Means so much to the both of us. We haven't exactly been the best of parents with the while tradition thing... But we are getting old and we have decided that no matter if the world is coming to and end or if then is a 10 case... We will be right here all Christmas day," he admitted gently shifting Aria across into Sherlock's arms and moved to take Aiden's hand. "Come on, leave your dad to work out his excitement. We are going to make cookies," he offered, Sherlock settled on the couch with the baby girl in his arms and just watched her with the brightest eyes and the most loving smile, his entire attention is on his little niece. "It is so good to have you home," Mycroft admitted, pulling Aiden into a hug, kissing his temple. "You shouldn't have brought anything but thank you. We brought you quite a lot since we missed last year and your birthday and its Aria's first christmas, had to make it special." You: Aiden shook his head, grabbing the present bag as he let his dad lead him to the kitchen. "I did need to bring you something, I always get you and Dad presents." He took out the pastry box, wrapped in paper with snowflakes on it. "There were no umbrellas," he said apologetically, shrugging. "I think you'll like it. And I know you haven't been the best with tradition, either of you, but I never cared about tradition. We're here, we're happy, and that's all that really matters Papa. Yes, you and Dad are far from ordinary, but ordinary is boring. I should be thanking you for not being traditional fathers. It's always been interesting, and I loved it. I think Aria will as well." He hugged his Papa, smiling. "You didn't have to get me anything though. Being here again, letting Aria get to know her family, it's all I wanted Papa." He pulled back after a few minutes, still smiling as he gestured to the present. "Open it, and then we can start baking cookies. I missed us doing that. Remember the time Dad wanted to do an experiment on the frosting an nearly blew up the kitchen? You banned him from helping after that." Stranger: "Do you remember how many times I have banned him from the kitchen and yet he continues to make a mess," Mycroft laughed pulling open the box and easily picking up one of Aiden's favouties that happend to be his own as well, offering it to his son to take a mouthful, leaning in to kiss his cheek once again. "More perfect then umbrellas... Though don't tell Sherlock, he has decided I need to loose weight again," he grinned, licking his fingers clean of the frosting then moved to start adding things to the bowl. "All we want is you in our lives again, you are our little boy, no matter how big you get and we will always, always love you. Don't ever doubt that," he hummed, looping his arms around Adrien's waist so he could stir the batter while Mycoft hugged him. You: Aiden grinned, taking a bite of the pastry before letting his Papa finish it. "You don't need to lose weight, but I'll keep your secret from Dad if you want me to. And him making a mess in the kitchen even after you banned him is always funny." He watched as the other man added the ingredients and stepping forward when it was time to mix. He wasn't surprised when his Papa wrapped his arms around his waist, leaning back into the hug as he kept mixing the batter before scooping it out to put it on trays. "I'm going to be around for as long as you want me here Papa. I'll be here, and Aria will be as well. I love you both too, even though I'm not exactly your little boy anymore. I'll still be your little one and Dad's dear one, and you'll be my Papa and Dad, and Airia's grandparents, so everything is gong to be fine." Stranger: "Don't think I'm getting pudgy around the middle again?" he hummed, "yes, please. And it is not funny, it is frustrating and messy. Next time you get to clean up after him, you know he will teach bad habits to your little girl yes?" Mycroft hummed settling his chin on Aiden's shoulder, moving with him as he filled the trays. "Dadand I will always, always want you here, little one. And we want to help you raise Aria, we grew up without proper parents or grandparents and if we can give her what we have given you, a loving family and a good life then that is all we want with ours," Mycroft offered easily. "We love you, I love you so much. We are so proud of you, your daughter is beautiful." You: "You aren't pudgy Papa," Aiden said, shaking his head as he put the trays in the oven and turned so he could hug his Papa. "See, not pudgy. Just right. We can all be as skinny as Dad is. And if he teaches Aria bad habits, then there will just be two of them to clean up after." He could see his dad teaching his daughter to get into all kinds of mischief. "We're doomed, you realize this. With Dad teaching Aria everything he knows, London won't survive." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, if you're half as good at being grandparents as you are at being parents, I'm definitely accepting your help. She is beautiful, isn't she? And she'll have a good family watching out for her, and she won't have to worry about not knowing if she's loved. We'll make sure she doesn't." "Oh you are such a flatterer," he grinned kissing Aiden's cheek again when they hugged. "But there is definally some pudge there, think I'm becoming too domesticated. I've started cooking dinner every night, its the only way I can make sure your father eats,'" he admitted then chuckled at his next comment. "London survived both you and him solving cases, I'm sure it can live though the adventures of Sherlock and Aria... Though I'm not sure John will. The poor doctor is growing old. He can't keep up as well as he used to, what would Sherlock do without his blogger especially if the pair of them give him a heart attack," Mycroft hummed playfully. He smiled fondly at Aiden's comment. "You don't know how happy I am to hear that. I always regretted bringing you into this, I thought it was too hard on you... I thought you'd end up hating us for being so different, never being able to tell the turth about your family... It makes everything worth while to hear you say that. It makes me so happy to know you think we did the right think, little one. That you love your life as much we do.... She will, we will always be here for her, no matter what." "I learned from the best, how to charm people to get them to do what I want," Aiden said, chuckling. "Mr. Politician, who nearly singlehandedly runs the British government. And of course Dad taught me a fair bit of that too. I really don't think you're pudgy Papa, and if you are, you're allowed to be. You're almost fifty, aren't you? And Dad loves you regardless, just like you love him. We'll have to make sure Dad and Aria don't give John a heart attack. That poor man is always accepting of Dad's mad ideas though, so I don't think that there's too much they can do to give him a heart attack." He shook his head, looking at the other man seriously. "Papa, I never really cared that I couldn't tell everyone the truth about our family. People are idiots, like Dad always says. Your relationship is the best I've ever seen. You two have been together for years and still love each other. You both love me too, and you made sure I was well taken care of and loved, and that's more than some people in more 'traditional' relationships do. I love you both, and I like that you're different. Being ordinary is boring." Mycroft chuckled, "But of course, important skills, my boy." he chuckled. "Mm, fifty one this year," he hummed, "I am getting old, don't remind me," he grinned but smiled at that and peeked his head around the corner to see where Sherlock had abandoned his scratchy jumper so Aria could gently nap cross his chest, the man looked like he wasn't close behind. "I do love him, with everything have and more and I always will," he sighed relaxing against the counter. "No his heart is far too strong. He will chase them about London. I'm sure he would love to see you again if you have the time," he hummed. He met Aiden's gaze steadily. "We've been with each other since Sherlock's birth, truthfully. Though we started dating when Sherlock worked out what that meant. There has never been anyone else. And you are our little boy, you are the best thing that ever happened to us," he stepped forward to cup Aiden's cheeks. "I love you, so much. And I have missed you more then I thought I was capable of. Its so good to have you home," he admitted pulling the other in for another hug, just holding him close. "One hundred is old Papa, fifty is like middle aged," Aiden said, chuckling. "I learned important skills from the best. John's heart probably is too strong for Dad and Aria to give him a heart attack. He'll be right there beside them, making sure that their mad ideas don't get them killed, like he always does for Dad. I have a few months off for leave, more than I'd usually get because I'm a single dad and all. I'll have to find a babysitter when it is time for me to go back to work." He smiled when his Papa hugged him again, wrapping his arms around the other man in return and letting him hold him close. "See? You two have been committed to each other for forty-four years, since Dad was born, even if you didn't start dating right away. I hope I find someone I love as much as you love Dad, and who loves me as much as he loves you. I missed you too Papa, so much. I wanted to try being on my own, and it is nice, but I miss you and Dad a lot. Every day. Aria's only a few days old and she's probably already tired of hearing me tell her about how great her grandparents are." "You don't need a babysitter. You have us. Sherlock is mostly home and when he's on a case she can always come to work with me just like you used to. Sherlock and I were.... Or I was raised by a nanny.... I almost raised him... But we refused to let anyone else have a part in your upbringing. We are a family and you deserved so much better then being raised by some stranger," he offered, "and the same can be said for your Aria. If you need a baby sitter, we are right here and always willing. "You will, little one, one day, and someone who loves Aria as much as you do. And we understand. When Sherlock was your age, before you were born, he needed to go off on his own, discover what it was like with someone else, find a place in this world for himself. He was gone for three years before he finally returned to me. By that time I'd spent a night with a beautiful woman and she's brought you to me nine months later. Sherlock came home and fell in love with the both of us, me all over again. So don't think we don't understand why you did this. We are just so happy you have found your place and now have Aria," he chuckled at the next comment and pulled Aiden toward the doorway so he could see the pair now both sleeping soundly on the couch. "I think she understands, Sherlock is an amazing man." "I loved going to the office with you," Aiden said, smiling. "I think that would be nice, if you and Dad won't mind. It would be hard to find someone I trust to take care of her, but I know you both are perfect for that. This way she'd get to spend more time with her grandparents too, so that's something. I'm glad you didn't want anyone else to have a part in raising me. You and Dad did pretty good on your own, if I do say so myself. I don't think I turned out too badly." He shook his head slightly. "I guess I'm combining both yours and Dad's decisions from when he was my age? I disappeared for about a year, and I found an attractive woman to have a...well, it wasn't really a relationship. Mutual fun? Maybe. Any, I found an attractive woman, and nine months later here's Aria. I'm following in your footsteps. With you two helping me raise her I think she'll turn out just fine. And if I ever do find someone Papa, they'll have to be able to accept you and Dad. I wouldn't make you lie to them all the time, and it's not good to have any kind of relationship based on lies. So, whoever I find will have to accept this or I'll keep on looking." He smiled when he saw his Dad and Aria sleeping on the couch. "She'll need a bottle when she wakes up, most likely. You and Dad are both amazing, and she's going to love you." "I think they still have that child sized desk of yours somewhere around. The one you used to draw on," he hummed, "everyone loved you, I know they will love her just as much. And we don't mind, we wouldn't want you thinking of anyone else. And you turned out perfectly. We could never have hoped for a better son," he chuckled at the next comment. "Well, at least when Aria runs off and find a beautiful woman she won't bring you back a grandchild," he grinned playfully though it turned to something a lot more serious when Aiden spoke about his partner. "I love you, so much my son," he breathed, "you shouldn't worry about that, we've covered this our whole lives, if they accept us then perfect but if they don't it doesn't matter. If you love them then we can work around it," he promised. "Her first proper christmas, waking up to the smell of biscuits, should we start the cocoa?" he hummed glancing over to check the pair were still asleep with no signs of waking then moved to check on their biscuits. "And we love her. You are an amazing father, always knew you would be. She is so perfect, little one." "Unless she runs off and finds a handsome man, then I'll have to worry about her bringing a child back," he pointed out dryly. "I loved going to work with you. Some of them gave me sweets for looking 'adorable' and we'd share them and not tell Dad about you cheating on your diet, remember? Now you can do that with Aria too. She's twice as adorable so she'll have them wrapped around her tiny fingers in no time." He followed his Papa to the kitchen, watching as the other man checked their biscuits. "Papa, if I find someone to be with, they will have to accept you. I'm not having you hide. If the person is so narrow minded that they can't accept that you and Dad love each other and that there isn't anything wrong with your relationship, then I don't want to be with them. Simple. I know you've hid this for your entire lives, basically, but I wouldn't want you to cover it in front of Aria or whoever I finally settle down with. I couldn't have asked for better parents, and if I'm half as good as you and Dad are at being a father, then Aria will turn out pretty good." He hugged his Papa briefly before gathering what they needed for the cocoa. "We should start it now, I think. By the time the cocoa is done the biscuits will be too, so then we can have our traditional Christmas breakfast. The only time of year dessert for breakfast is acceptable." "Yes but with our track record she'll be gone two years and find some pretty woman," he grinned playfully. "Mm, but he always knew anyway, no matter what we did and I'd get scalded for feeding you to many sweets. He kept telling you this was how I started, that you were going to be as large as me," he grinned, "oh she will, she's already got your dad hooked on there," he hummed then kissed Aiden's cheek. "Thank you, sweetheart. That means so much to me and likely more to your father," he admitted. The pot was put on the stove to warm the milk and the chocolate slowly mixed in. Another pot was set out to warm up Aria's bottle of formula. "So you haven't told me about this job of yours, what are you doing?" he hummed curiously, glancing over. "Who knows what Aria will do," he said, rolling his eyes and chuckling. "She's a Holmes, which means she will be unpredictable. And I don't mind being as big as you are. You aren't really pudgy. You're sturdy. There's a difference. I take after Dad somehow though, so I don't have to worry about getting pudgy, no matter how many sweets I eat. She's got you hooked too, don't try to deny it." He smiled as his Papa kissed his cheek, going to get what he needed to make Aria's bottle before coming back. "It's the truth Papa. People are idiots, and I wouldn't want to spend my life with one who couldn't accept you both as you are. You're perfect, you shouldn't have to hide, although I know why you do." He grinned as he leaned against the counter. "I haven't told you what I do for a living now, have I? Can you deduce it? I want to see if I can still surprise you sometimes." "Oh that is very much true. And, well he is your uncle. He took after mummy while I took after father so it is completely understandable that you look like him. I just hope she does as well," he admitted then chuckled once again, "she does," he offered easily. He pulled the biscuits out of the oven to cool on racks then began poaring the cocoa into mugs, each their favourite. "Thank you, little one," he had to bite his lip to fight back a few tears threatneing to fall. "We never really gave you a choice about us, you never got to choose your opinion on our relationship when you were younger. But to know you accept us... You've never made me happier," he admitted. He hummed, "I made a point never to deduce you, my dear. That was Sherlock's job. I'd much prefer you to tell me." "She's already got your ginger hair though," he teased, smiling. "She'll grow up to look like her Grandpa My and be a beautiful little girl. We have to talk about what she's calling each of you though before she gets to the talking stage. Grandpa, granddad, grandfather, whatever." He smiled, shaking his head. "Papa, I never needed to choose an opinion about your relationship. It's always been the same for me. I love you, you're my fathers and I wouldn't have you any other way." He gave his Papa a hug before stepping back and smiling. "I know you never deduce me Papa, although dad likes to sometimes. But, I want to see if you're losing your touch in your old age," he teased. "Grandpa My sounds wonderful," he admitted, "grandfather is far to formal, gradnddad Sherlock," he hummed curiously, "he's going to hate you for that. He's only fourty four," Mycroft chuckled checking the temperature of the formula, setting it with the cocoa on a tray then moved the biscuits over onto a plate to take the living room. "Thank you, Aiden, and no matter what you want to do with your life, no matter who you fall in love with, its its a movie star or a horse we will still love you all the same," he offered playfully pinching his side. "Do you really believe your dad would ever let me fall out of practice. Date night is still on a tuesday night and we still spend the night deducing those around us," he admitted as he headed into the living room and pulled his and Sherlock's arm chairs closer to the coffee table so they could sit together. "Alright, well, your grades in school were exeptional so you could do whatever you like and anyone would be happy to have you. But you have told me you are working, not studying and there are only so many places that would give you parental leave rather then just fire you outright. With that, your neat dress and short haircut that leads me to believe either a military or political base," he hummed raising a playful brow really not wanting to delve to far into his sons head. "He's only forty-four and you're only fifty-one, and you already have one grandchild," Aiden said, chuckling as he picked up the tray with the cocoa, biscuits, and Aria's formula on it and following his Papa to the living room and setting it on the coffee table. He chuckled at the pinch to his side. "You never know, maybe you and Dad are losing your touch." He grinned when he listened to the deductions. "And nope, you haven't lost your touch. You're right, my grades were good but I didn't want to go to university right away so I got a job instead. My first job was working in a pub, just something to do for money until I found something else. I still worked a few shifts even after I got my current job. You were close when you guessed military or political. I considered joining the Royal Navy, but then I thought about how much you two would worry and nixed that idea for a bit. Dad would have blamed you if I went into something entirely political, so I refrained from that and from applying at the Yard. Neither entirely interested me, no offense. I like what you two do, but I wouldn't want to do it." He sighed. "I joined the Navy. I was in training when I found out about Aria, and they're giving me a few months to get everything sorted before I start back up again. That is another reason I wanted to get her to know you. If I get deployed, I would ask you and Dad to take care of her, and if something happens...well, there's no one better to raise her." "That is terrible, how could you do this to us, we are no where near ready to be grandparents," he grinned taking Aiden's hand and offering him a bright smile. "No I understand that. I never went into investment because that was what your grandfather did and he hated me for going into politics, its why the family dinners were so tence," he grinned. "You know would worry about you no matter what you do, do something you love. The Navy, wonderful. Are you going to be an officer?" he asked curiously meeting Aiden's gaze. "Nothing will happen to you but if you are depoyed she has a home here. Though we will likely have to get a bigger one," he hummed, "an extra room so you both have one. We would be happy to care for her so long as you promise to take care and come home to us every time." Sherlock stired across from them, groaning and streaching which woke the little girl on his chest. "Good morning, my love. Feeling better?" he hummed leaning over to brush Sherlock's locks away from his face and kissing him gently. Aiden went to pick up Aria as his Dad stretched, cooing at the little girl as she snuffled sleepily into his neck. He rubbed her back as he looked at his parents. "Anything's possible Papa. I'm starting at the bottom and working my way up. I wanted it that way. I could have used your name and been an officer instantly, but I'd rather prove myself. I'm glad you'll agree to watch her if I am deployed. It likely won't be for another couple months, maybe not until after she turns one, but I have a feeling I will be deployed at some point. You don't have to worry about getting a bigger flat though. If Aria is staying with you for a bit, then she can just take my old room, and when I'm on leave I could kip on the couch or something. There wouldn't be much point in having a flat of my own if I won't be there to use it, huh? Plus, you wouldn't let me leave until it was time for me to go back. We'll work it out if and when it happens. And if something does happen to me, because anything is possible Papa, I know you and Dad would take care of her. Nothing will happen though, most likely. I promise that I will do my best to come home every time and to be as careful as I can." “It always feels better to achieve something yourself,” he hummed, “you will do fine on your own, you will be brilliant,” Mycroft said easily leaning over to brush fingers down her back. “Does your daddy mind if I feed you?” he hummed curiously as he leaned over to pick up her bottle. “No son of mine will be sleeping on our couch. We’ve actually been thinking about selling the flat and buying a house so Sherlock has a back yard where he can get bees. We could perhaps get one with a small granny flat so you may have your own space when you come home and then she can live in the house with us or in the flat with you,” he offered and even Sherlock smiled brightly at the idea. “I want a second kitchen so I can do my experiments without getting in trouble,” he admitted as he sat up and leaned over to take his cocoa. “It would likely be better if you were close by anyway. If she gets sick or if you are injured its just better to have someone around to help out. And if you need a baby sitter instead of having to come so far we will be close enough to help but you will have your own space where we can’t intrude,” he offered. “And if you are deployed she’ll basically be in her own home instead of having to adjust to a new house as well as missing you,” he hummed brushing Aiden’s hair back. “Its just an idea…” "It's a pretty good one Papa," Aiden said, thinking about it while he obligingly passed Aria to the man so he could feed her. "I can sleep on the couch, honestly, but if we did it this way then she wouldn't have to worry about getting used to a new place, like you said, and you are closer in case of emergency. If I keep up working at the pub sometimes, then there's chance I might get hurt again, or I could get hurt while training. Then you two would be closer if you wanted to help out with that." It made sense to him. Leave it to his Papa to come up with a perfect solution in a matter of minutes. They had been talking about a house anyway, but it was still impressive. He picked up his own cup of cocoa, handing his Dad his present before grabbing a biscuit to nibble on. "And we would get to see you more, which I really won't mind, especially if I am deployed. When I come back I'll have missed you all like crazy the entire time I was away." He glanced at his Dad, chuckling as he added, "I hope I will be able to get leave around Christmastime, otherwise I'll break my promise." He probably would end up being away for Christmas, but hopefully he would be able to call them. A video chat would be even better. He shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself, but it always paid to be prepared. Mycroft settled Aria in the crook of his arm, letting her wake up a little more and when she began to fuss offered her the bottle. “If you are interested its probably something you should start thinking about now while you have time off. We could go around, find a house and move in before you go back into training though if you are joining the Navy then I’d prefer you to give up the pub job. You are better off here spending time with your daughter and using our money then never seeing her,” he offered. Sherlock opened his arms inviting Aiden from the armchair to the could so they could sit together. “It would be so nice to have you home again. I forgot how terribly boring your Papa can be without you around to entertain us,” Sherlock teased and Mycroft childishly stuck his tongue out. “Lets stop talking about this though. Its Christmas, lets enjoy it then we can work out all this other important stuff later. I don’t want to think about you not being home one year,” Mycroft admitted as he lent over to pick up his own mug and when the bottle was done, setting it aside, dipping his finger into the warm cocoa then offering the little drip to Aria. “Oh thats good isn’t it, yummy,” he grinned nuzzling her playfully and offering a sheepish smile to Sherlock when he gained the ‘you are being a terrible influence’ look his brother had perfected over the years as a father. Aiden rolled his eyes at his Dad's comment before getting up and going to sit with him on the couch, cuddling up to him. "You will both be terrible influences," he said, chuckling as he looked at his Papa's sheepish expression. It wouldn't hurt Aria to have that little bit of hot chocolate, although he knew his Dad would scold his Papa for it later. "She'll turn out just fine even with that. I haven't worked at the pub in the past few days, not since Aria was born. It would make sense to spend more time with her before I have to go back to training though. I do have some money saved up, so I would be fine not working for a little while." He didn't want to make his dads pay for what he or Aria would need, even if he did want to spend more time with his daughter without worrying about how long he had until he would have to leave. "You're right though Papa, talking about this today probably isn't a good idea. It's too sad for Christmas. Besides, Dad hasn't even opened his present, which is very nearly a crime." Mycroft offered her one last drip then let her just suck contentedly on his finger, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her little hands when they were waved at him. “Merry Christmas, my darling,” he hummed to her, relaxing in his chair and just holding her close. He listen then glanced up. “You have a rather large trust fund there as well. More then enough to afford a house, car and pay off your collage degrees but since you won’t really need any of that use it at your leisure,” he offered. Sherlock looked down at the present as if just spotting it for the first time and an overly wide smile split his face and he lent in to kiss Aiden. “You weren’t meant to get us anything, what are we meant to do with you?” he teased playfully then tore apart the wrapping and tossing it in every direction earning a cut off complaint from Mycroft. "I had forgotten about the trust fund, actually," Aiden said, shaking his head. "I don't want to rely on that, but it will be good for now, until I have to go back to training." He would be able to spend the few months he had off with Aria and his parents without worrying about money or needing to pick up a couple of shifts at the pub to cover everything until his leave was up. He smiled when his Dad pulled the wrapping paper off and tossed it everywhere, going to collect it so his Papa didn't have to worry about it. "Love me and thank me for the present?" he offered, throwing the paper in the rubbish before taking his seat beside his Dad again. “I thought you might have… Its just there so you can be comfortable no matter what you want do. And after I go you will inherit the complete Holmes estate. Money is not something you need to worry about little one. Just enjoy your life. We worried especially when we first got you and we missed out on your younger childhood, up until our father died and we inherited the estate, leaving mummy with the manor house. If I could go back and do it again I’d never have worked so hard. I’d have spent more time with you,” he admitted and motioned Sherlock toward the tree. He brought over a small present which Mycroft set into Aria’s hand helping tiny uncoordinated fingers remove the paper and reveal a little lion rattle for the little girl, chuckling when a smile came across her face. “I always love you so you are going to have to think up something better,” Sherlock grinned retaking his seat and examining the book then lent over to kiss him again. “This is wonderful, thank you. I love it,” he grinned as he flipped it open and looked though some of the case files. “Most of the ones under the tree are for Aria but the smaller one with the red paper and green ribbon, that one is for you,” Sherlock directed. It was a custom made Rolex with a message engraved on the back speaking of how much they loved him. “Is it alright? We didn’t know what you were doing or where you were so we tried to come up with something that would work for any job.” Aiden smiled as his Papa helped Aria open her first Christmas present. She loved the rattle, smiling as she shook it. He was glad that both of his parents liked their gifts, getting up and going to pick up the present specified and sitting beside his Dad to unwrap it. He smiled at the watch, biting his lip at the message on the back before setting the proper time and putting it on, turning to hug his Dad tightly. "Thank you," he murmured. "Although you both should know that you don't have to get me anything." He pulled away after a bit, going to hug his Papa as well before sitting back down and taking a sip of his cocoa. "I don't want to think about anything involving when either of you die Papa. You didn't miss much of my childhood, and even when you were both working, I never doubted how much you loved me. You wanted to make sure everything would be fine, that we would have enough money. I understand that, believe me." He worried a lot about not spending enough time with Aria in the future because of work, but also wanting to make sure she would be able to have whatever she needed. "You don't have to worry about that now though, and you'll be able to spend time with Aria whenever work allows. It will work out Papa, doesn't it always?" “It is Christmas we will always get you a present,” Sherlock said easily. “Now the rest of them are all baby things, you said she was only a couple of days old so we weren’t sure how much you actually had for her so you can take it all back if you don’t want or need it but we got you mostly everything we could think of,” he admitted as he took up his own mug as well as a biscuit and leaned happily against Aiden, just enjoying the company. Mycroft hummed quietly to Aria, just rocking her gently in his arms. “It always does. We always seem to fall on our feet don’t we,” he offered glancing up at them. “I’m just happy to have you home and happy you are willing to give us the chance to be with Aria,” he admitted nuzzling her cheek and chuckling when the rattle bounced off his cheek as she waved it excitedly. "Then you know why I bought you and Papa a present," Aiden said, leaning against his Dad and smiling. "I don't have much for her yet. Formula and clothes, nappies and blankets. That's about it. I was more worried about her being healthy, then writing to you both, then getting your Christmas presents...well, buying extra stuff hadn't really crossed my mind yet." He laughed when Aria accidently whacked his Papa with the rattle when she was waving it. "She has a favorite toy now, I swear. The only thing that will top that is the stuffed bee she's been sleeping with. I saw it and couldn't resist." He rolled his eyes at his Papa, giving him a look that his Dad usually used with idiots. "Papa, you and Dad are the most important people to me, so of course I want you two to be able to be with Aria. She's your granddaughter. Grandpa My and Granddad Sherlock." “We are your parents. We have to get you presents but you don’t have to get us anything. We just love to make you smile,” Sherlock admitted and couldn’t help but pull Aiden against him. Despite him being much bigger then he used to be Sherlock could still pull Aiden against his chest and cuddle together happily. “Now you have a pram, a crib, change table, more cloths, nappies and blankets. A set of bottles and dummies… Just everything we could think of,” he admitted, nuzzling his nose into Aiden’s hair. Mycroft laughed at being told of the bee, “that is gorgeous. You are defiantly related to Sherlock. You are going to be such a little trouble maker,” he grinned, kissing her cheek and toying gently with her rattle, tickling her sides gently. “Thank you little one. That means a lot. You make us so happy. I hope you realise that.” "You don't /have/ to get me presents, you do it because you like to make me happy," Aiden said, cuddling against his Dad happily. "And that's why I get you presents, to make you happy. Thank you for all of the baby stuff though. It will be very useful, because I don't have most of that." He hadn't been able to get most of that. He smiled when his Dad nuzzled his nose into his hair. Aria giggled when Mycroft tickled her sides and toyed with her rattle, waving the rattle around. Aiden chuckled, looking over to his Papa. "She's definitely related to Dad. I got the bee because it reminded me of him, and she rarely lets it go. You both make me happy too Papa, and you already make Aria happy too."

#holmescest #parentlock

You: Anthea sighed as she looked around the room. The ten year old girl watched the adults streaming into the room, looking to adopt a child. She had been in the orphanage since her parents had died in a car accident two years before. No one had wanted to adopt her, and she was worried that she would never find a family. She missed her parents, missed being part of a family. Watching the adults who were going to talk to the other kids, she went back to his book, waiting for either someone to talk to her or it to be time for her to leave. Stranger: Mycroft knew it was a stretch, to visit the orphanage. It was strange to think that years ago he'd had a child and a wife. His family had been taken from him much too soon, by a car accident. He shook the thoughts of that night away and looked about the room. There were many children, all chatting happily to the adults currently swooning over them, but they weren't right for him. He could tell straight off none of them would take to him, until he saw a young girl sitting alone, reading. She reminded him of his own daughter, quiet content to play alone rather than with other children. He stepped quietly to her, sitting down next to her, "What are you reading?" You: Anthea looked up, surprised when the man had sat next to her. The other adults who visited never seemed to like her. She was 'too antisocial', because she didn't mind playing alone. 'Too quiet', because she didn't chatter all the time. Too...whatever, really. She was understandably surprised when the man sat down next to her, instead of going to talk to one of the others. She marked her page with a slip of paper, closing the book and handing it to him. "A book about Catherine the Great." She was interested in history, she had always been. Her mother and father had encouraged her interest, and the book was one of her favourites. Stranger: "Impressive." he said, looking the book over, before handing the book back to her. "You're interested in history, then? Are you planning on going to school to pursue it?" he asked. "Did you know that Catherine wasn't even her real name? It was Sophie." He studied her carefully, wanting and not wanting to deduce her situation. Wanting to know where her story began, how she found herself in a quiet corner of the orphanage, reading about powerful historical women. You: "They changed her name to Catherine, when she was engaged to the future Tsar of Russia," she said, running her fingers along the spine of the book for a minute before looking back up. "Well, then he was the future Tsar. She changed her name, her religion." She considered her question about school. "I am considering it, when I'm older. My mother was a teacher, my father had some sort of position in the government." Before the accident, of course. "I was always interested in history, and I am slightly interested in politics, so I might do something with that." Stranger: He tilted his head. A teacher and the government? How very curious that he would end up with this girl. "You're father worked for the government? Do you know what he did, by any chance? I may have known him. I work for the government as well. A minor position in British politics." he chuckled softly. "I wish you much luck in those endeavours. I have no doubt you'll be very successful, you seem to be a very bright girl." You: She smiled slightly when he chuckled. "I don't know what it was, sorry," she said softly, shaking her head. "He always just said that he had a position in the government. They said they would explain it more when I was older." They never did, never would. "Thank you. I think you seem intelligent too. Too intelligent for just a minor position." There was something about his eyes. He saw far more than he let on, he was more intelligent than he appeared. Stranger: "I'm afraid much job is much like your father's. I am not allowed to talk about the majority of the things that come across my desk. Though I do meet a lot of interesting people, who I can talk about. They make it quite easy." he sat for a moment, slightly sorry for making her thoughts spiral to her parents. After a few silent moments he spoke again, voice softer this time. "You remind me of my own daughter. She was six when she died. She loved to read, hated large groups of people. She inherited that trait from me, I'm afraid." You: "I'm sorry," she said. It had been horrible to lose her parents, she couldn't imagine how it was for him to lose his daughter. "My mother and father died two years ago. They were in a car crash. A drunk driver hit them." She had been at home with a sitter when it happened. They had gone out for the night, and were on their way back from the theater when the other driver crashed into them. "I really don't like large groups of people either. I love to read too." Stranger: "How terrible, love. I am sorry for your loss, as well. My wife and daughter were going on holiday to visit her parents outside of London when Victoria lost control of the car." he frowned slightly at the memory of that day in his office, the phone call and frantic rush to the hospital. "That was four years ago, though it seems like yesterday sometimes. I'm sure you can relate. Have you been here since then?" he asked carefully, not wanting to push the girl too much. You: "I'm sorry," she said again. It would have been horrible. She knew what it was like, waiting for them to come home and then finding out that they never would. She had answered the phone, the sitter was in the bathroom, and the officer had told her almost everything before he realized that she was only eight. The sitter had come back and taken the phone, and everything spiraled from there. "I've been here since, yes. I don't have any other family, so I was sent here." Stranger: "It's alright, my dear." he turned in his chair to face her, crossing his legs. "I can't believe such a beautiful, intelligent girl, such as yourself has been here for two years. Haven't found the perfect family yet, have you? It's good to be picky." he joked, before holding out a hand to her. "Mycroft Holmes, my dear." You: She shook his hand, and gave him a small smile. "Anthea, Mr. Holmes. It's nice to meet you." She chuckled slightly, self-deprecatingly, and shook her head. "I'm not picky Mr. Holmes. The other people are. I'm too quite, too antisocial. Too different. They don't like me very much, which is why I've been here this long." Stranger: "Please, call me Mycroft. Mr. Holmes is my father. And I don't wish to be him quite yet." he matched her smile. "Being quite is not always a bad thing, my dear. For example, I bet you can tell me at least one secret about all the kids that flutter around here, simply because you've chosen to blend in, rather than make a scene. It's a wonderful skill to have, especially in politics, helps with contracts and things." he tapped her hand, "I was the same way as a child, completely uninterested in playing with anyone other than my younger brother Sherlock. It was a complete disaster when our parents tried to socialize us with other children. Stranger: *" You: "Okay Mycroft," she said, before looking around the room. "I know a lot of secrets about them actually. Some things even the matron doesn't know. Nothing very interesting, I'm afraid. Who steals things, who still wets the bed. The eldest girl and boy are dating. They're going to get a flat together as soon as they can get out of here. Maybe sooner if they can get jobs." No one ever paid attention to her. She was there in the background always, and they never realized what they were saying where she could hear. "I never had a brother or sister." Stranger: He chuckled softly again. "See. Information is powerful, my dear. Even if it is seemingly uninteresting and unimportant. Always remember that." he looked around again at the varying ages of children running around and tugging the adults in every different direction. "I enjoyed having a brother until he grew up. He's had some problems of his own. He's much better now, though. Given some monitoring and a new friend. I care deeply for him, and he for I. Though you'd never hear him admit it. He hates those sort of things." You: "Knowledge is power, no matter how seemingly insignificant that knowledge is," she said. She looked at the other children running around, shaking her head. Off to show the adults their schoolwork or toys or whatever. Showing off, being happy and sociable and perfectly adoptable. She could already tell which parents had made up their minds, which children wouldn't be at the orphanage much longer. She brought her knees up to her chest, resting her head around them. "Sometimes people have trouble saying what they feel." Stranger: "People do, sometimes. I myself am included in that group. After the accident, I became rather closed off to the world. To kindness from strangers." he said honestly. "It's taken me a great deal of time to come to terms with what has happened. To realize that life is still meant to be shared and spoken of in the highest regard, no matter how treacherous it can be." he wouldn't say he felt sorry for Anthea, but he could clearly see the hurt on her face. Did she really believe she was not an acceptable, adoptable child? "Are you alright, Anthea?" You: She blinked, looking up at him and forcing a smile. "I'm fine Mr. Holmes. Mycroft, sorry. I was just thinking." He didn't need to know /what/ she was thinking. It was nice that he was even talking to her. "I can see why you would do that. I didn't want to talk to anyone after my parents died. It must have been even worse, because you lost your daughter and wife." She wasn't sure, but she could tell that he didn't get along with other people easily, and losing two people who he loved...no wonder he had closed off. Stranger: "Your mind can be a dangerous place if you spend too much time there, my dear." he tilted her head to him. "I should know. It's how I ended up alone, cold and angry at the world. Your parents were your world, just as Victoria and my little girl were mine. It's natural to grieve in such ways. It's natural to lose a bit of hope, but eventually one must turn his life around. One must move on from the pain and suffering. It's why I'm here today. I miss having a child in the house, someone to spoil and teach. Someone to come home to." You: "I'm sure you'll find someone Mycroft," she said, meeting his eyes with a sigh. "There are a lot of nice kids here. Girls and boys. I can tell you which ones are most likely going to be adopted by the end of today, so you know which ones you can talk to and see about adopting." She knew what he was saying was true, and she wanted to move past it, but no one wanted to adopt her, no one seemed to like her. She had accepted that a few months ago. "I can tell you which ones aren't really nice, even if they pretend to be, if you want." Stranger: "That's very kind of you, Anthea." he held up his hand, to stop her. "But what about yourself? Am I not allowed to continue talking to you? Have you made up your mind that you do not wish to be adopted because you think you are flawed in some great way?" he asked her seriously. It was a terrible thought, for him. That Anthea might believe, at such a young age, that she was not capable of being loved by anyone now that her parents were gone. "Because, if you'll allow me to speak openly, I don't particularly care for the other kids I see." You: "They're all nice though," she said softly. She pointed at a boy who had just come back in from outside. "Adam is really good at sports. Football, rugby, all kinds of sports." She pointed to a blonde girl a few years older than her. "And Emily is the matron's favourite. She hasn't been here long, but she's nice and sociable." They were the stars, the ones the matron showed off. She was shoved into a corner, overlooked. "I'm too quiet and too antisocial. Too everything." She was required to be in the room with the other kids when potential adopters came, and by now she knew better than to hope. She sat somewhere out of the way with a book and waited for it to be over. Stranger: "Too bad I know absolutely nothing about sports." he joked. "I have never been one for them. I was always too awkward and uncoordinated to play them in my youth. I preferred to study and excel in school, than to run around outside and work up a sweat, something my brother continues to tease me about to this very day." he moved his gaze to Emily. "She looks nice enough. Though I doubt she'd be a good match for me. She seems to enjoy being social a bit too much for my liking." he turned again to her. "I know you'd prefer to be somewhere else. To not be required to sit and watch the other children. But I am glad you've decided to join today. I didn't think I'd meet any children I liked." You: "He would teach you, and Emily is really nice," she said softly, shaking her head. "I have to be here. All of the kids that are able to be adopted have to be here. No one usually talks to me though. I just sit and read until it's over." Or sat and watched the others talk and laugh. The other adults usually automatically assumed that there was something wrong with her because she didn't rush over with talk to them. "There's lots of children here that you might like Mycroft. I'm sure you'll find someone you want to adopt." Stranger: He chuckled a bit. "I am far too old to learn about rugby and football, Anthea. I still prefer my books over many activities. Though I am afraid you aren't seeing my point. I have found someone I'd like to adopt." he stood, holding out a hand for her. "But only if she promises to try and change her way of thinking just a bit for me. And if she agrees to go for a walk through the garden, away from all the noise." he waited patiently for her. You: She looked up when he stood, tilting her head to the side. "No one will be in the garden, I don't think," she said softly, uncurling and standing, taking his hand with a small, cautious smile. "You would want to adopt me? Really?" She wasn't sure what he wanted her to change about her thinking, but she would try for him. Mycroft was nice, from what she knew about him, and she really liked him. He liked books and didn't seem to be more sociable than she was. Stranger: He held her hand as they walked through the room and out to the open area behind the building. "You seem genuinely shocked that I'd want to adopt you, Anthea. It worries me that you think you aren't acceptable to anyone other than yourself. It's a poisonous way of thinking. I would know. I spent the first twenty five years of my life believing there was something truly wrong with me." He hooked their arms together as they strode slowly in the fresh air. You: "I am shocked, Mycroft," she admitted, following him out of the room. "I'm not acceptable to them. I know there were kids who were here for longer than I was, but I just...I don't know. I'm too different for the other kids to want to play with me, and I like playing by myself a lot of the time. The matron isn't fond of me, none of the adopters who talked to me in the beginning were either. They stopped talking to me after awhile. I'm just the quiet girl who sits in the corner of the room with her book." Stranger: "Then perhaps you need a better corner and more books, my dear." he stopped after a few moments of walking to kneel in front of her, more on her level now. He slowly reached up and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "The world is full of people who chose to be closed minded and unaccepting of anyone who is even slightly different from them. They are often overlooked and left to their own devices, forgotten treasures, if you will." he took her hand again and smiled warmly at her, he'd made up his mind. "I see so much of myself in you. So much of Eleanor, as well. I wish she could have met you, Anthea. She would have adored you. Victoria, too. I would, if you're willing, to adopt you. Though I understand what a change it will be. If you'd prefer to come and stay just a weekend at my flat, I'd like that just as well." You: She smiled when he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, looking at him curiously. "I'd like for you to adopt me," she said, smiling. "If you really want to. I don't think that I am a forgotten treasure, but I really do like you. You're very intelligent and kind. I wish I could have met your wife and daughter. I wish you could have met my mum and dad. They would like you, I know they would. You probably knew my dad if you work in politics too, and he would have been happy talking about that with you." She thought about the other girl, Eleanor. She wished she could meet her too, and Mycroft's wife. They had to be very special. "I really would like it if you adopted me Mycroft. Whether it's just for a weekend or longer." Stranger: He couldn't contain the wide smile that floated across his face. "Then it's settled. You'll come and spend the weekend with me. And then if you still feel as strongly as you do now, you'll start forever." he brushed his thumb across her cheek once more before pulling her into a hug. "I am so very glad I've met you, Anthea. Very glad indeed." Stranger: (Sorry love, I've got to run. Time to get off work! This was brilliant! One of the best kidlocks I've done. You are wonderful writer! Thanks for playing with me!) You: (Thanks for playing :) I really liked this. Have a nice day/night. Do you do continuations at all?) Stranger: (I do continuations on here! I use the tag potterotter, which is also my tumblr name. If you want to pick it back up sometime just send me a message and we can meet here :) You: (Okay. I don't really have a tag on here, but my tumblr name is beargirl1393. I enjoyed roleplaying with you.) Stranger: (I'll add you! You're a dear. This was tons of fun! Night, love!) Stranger has disconnected. http://logs.omegle.com/938bfc7d You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like potterotter, and Mythea. Stranger: Hey! You: Hi Stranger: beargirl, right? You: Yeah. Stranger: It took me forever to find you! Usually it's a bit easier! How are you, love? You: I'm fine. Omegle hates me, I think. It took me forever to find you too. How are you? Stranger: Pretty good, scanning our log now. Was it my turn to reply? You: I think you replied last. Can you resend it and we'll go from there? Stranger: Sure, one sec! Stranger: He couldn't contain the wide smile that floated across his face. "Then it's settled. You'll come and spend the weekend with me. And then if you still feel as strongly as you do now, you'll stay permanently." he brushed his thumb across her cheek once more before pulling her into a hug. "I am so very glad I've met you, Anthea. Very glad indeed." You: "I'm very glad to have met you Mycroft," she said, smiling. She bit her lip as she thought of something. She hadn't told any of the potential adopters her real name, even the matron called her Anthea anymore. No one since her parents died has been allowed to call her by her real name. But this was Mycroft, he was different. And he probably had known her father, but he wouldn't know of anyone who had had a daughter named Anthea. "Andrea," she said softly. "My name is Andrea." Stranger: Mycroft smiled at her, nodding. He understood, of course he understood. She trusted him, was learning to trust him, it was beautiful to see, even grander to feel. There was a warmth in his heart, spreading ever so slowly over the icy tendrils of shattered glass. A warmth he had been convinced would never return. "Andrea." he repeated, taking hold of her hand. "Shall we go and set up our weekend date, then?" You: Anthea, she still thought of herself as Anthea for the most part, even though she liked it that Mycroft would call her by her real name, nodded. "Yes, let's. Most of the other parents and children are still wandering around the orphanage and talking." They had managed to come to an agreement much more quickly. Stranger: "Obviously, still looking?" he asked, making his way back to the orphanage, still holding her hand. He opened the door for her once they'd reached the building and looked around for the matron. "Have you ever been out for a weekend, Andrea? I confess I'm not sure what we'll do yet. I was not holding out much hope that I'd meet a wonderful young woman such as yourself." You: She shook her head. "No one ever really talks to me after the first few minutes. I'm...well, we discussed that earlier. I wasn't what they were looking for. I've been here since the accident. The only time I've left is when we've gone on day trips a few times, and when I had bronchitis a last month and needed to go to the hospital. Other than that, I've never left." Stranger: He frowned. "It's a shame you've only be out for day trips. We'll remedy that this weekend." he promised. Finally he found the matron. "I'd like to take Anthea for the weekend." he spoke, leaving little to no room for discussion. "I'd like to take her now, if that's possible." he added, fixing his face with a smile that dared to be challenged. You: Anthea didn't look up while Mycroft spoke to the matron, but she knew the woman was staring incredulously at her. "You wish to take Anthea for the weekend?" the matron repeated, disbelieving. "You're sure it is Anthea you want?" There wouldn't be a problem with him taking her now, as long as he passed the background checks, but she was shocked he wanted to adopt the quiet young girl. Stranger: "Yes." he replied coolly. "I wish to take her for the weekend. You act as if there's something wrong with wanting to adopt such a bright, clearly understated girl. Is there something you wish to say, Matron?" he asked, gripping the girl's hand tighter, he'd known her for an hour, two at the most, and he was already protective of her. He certainly did care for her. You: Anthea stepped closer to his side. It wasn't surprising, not really, but her incredulity still hurt. The matron shook her head. "I'm simply stunned. It is surprising, certainly, but there is nothing wrong. As long as you pass the standard background checks, you are clear to take her with you." Stranger: "Good." he smiled, "I have no doubt I'll be able to pass any and all checks you require. Now, if you'd be so kind as to start that process while Anthea goes and packs her bag, I would be most appreciative." he handed over the proper identification before turning to Anthea. "No doubt this woman has no idea who I am." he smirked. "Go and gather your things while I finish this, yes, love?" You: Anthea nodded, giving Mycroft a small smile before going up to pack. She had a few worn but clean jumpers and pairs of jeans, as well as the dress she was wearing since today was adoption day. She packed enough for the weekend. The matron looked up at Mycroft while the background checks were being run. "Her father was a prominent member of the government, before his death. You are sure your interest in her has nothing to do with politics?" Stranger: He narrowed his eyes at the woman. "Are you insinuating that my affection for a girl of Anthea's age, is due to the fact that her deceased father used to work in the department two floors underneath me?" he asked. "My level of restraint is the only keeping you at your current post, Matron. Politics is simply my day job, not the controlling factor for anything in my life. Certainly not for who I choose to adopt." You: "I was insinuating that you wanted to use her father's name to further your position, yes," the matron said, having the grace to be embarrassed. "Only three people have approached me intending to adopt her in the two years she had been here, and only two of them had spoken to her. She has a rather sizable inheritance from her parents. She can't use it until she is of age, but her guardians have full control of it once she is adopted." Stranger has disconnected. http://logs.omegle.com/0045d06 You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like potterotter, and mythea. You: Hi Stranger: Hey! Stranger: How are you?? You: Good. How are you? Stranger: Good. Better now that I'm home :) Do you need me to send your last reply or should I just send my response? You: Whichever is easier for you. Stranger: Awesome Here's what you wrote: Stranger: "I was insinuating that you wanted to use her father's name to further your position, yes." the matron said, having the grace to be embarrassed. "Only three people have approached me intending to adopt her in the two years she had been here, and only two of them had spoken to her. She has a raher sizable inheritance from her parents. She can't use it until she is of age, but her guardians have full control of it once she is adopted." Stranger: Here's my response: He sighed. "Apparently, you should read your background check on me once more, Matron." he put his hands in his pockets, puffed out his chest, in his normal Holmesian way of taking control. "I am one of the most powerful men in the British Government. I've got more money than I know what to do with most of the time. I assure you, I most certainly do not need her inheritance, nor do I need to use a child as leverage in rising the political ladder, considering I've got no where to go. My interest in Anthea, is due to the fact that I see much of myself in her. Now, if you'd please. I've got a date with my future daughter." You: The matron looked over the background check on the man, finding that what he said did check out. She didn't see how he had chosen quiet little Anthea (or how he had managed to get her to choose him) but she wasn't going to question it further. "If she hasn't come down yet, her room is the third on the left from the top of the stairs." Anthea was, at this point, packing her books, most obviously well read and ranging from history and politics to fantasy books like the Lord of the Rings. Stranger: He nodded his thanks to the matron and turned sharply on his heal to the stairs. He looked around the hall before stepping up to her door. He couldn't help but smile as he quietly watched her packing her things. "You certainly are eager to read, my dear. You know it's just for the weekend. For you to see if you really like me as much as you think." he mused, leaning against the door frame. You: Anthea hadn't noticed him come in, lost in her thoughts as she packed. She jumped slightly, turning to see Mycroft leaning in the doorway. She looked down at her bed and the small collection of things on it (most of her belongings remained in her parents' house), and bit her lip. "Sorry Mr. Holmes," she murmured, unpacking the books smoothed out her clothes. Stranger: He frowned, moving in to sit on her bed, he picked up the books she'd sat down, to clear a space for him. "Andrea, love. I told you not to call me Mr. Holmes. I also did not mean to scare you." he looked over the books, smiling at some of the titles. "If you'd like to bring them, you are more than welcome. I want you to be as comfortable as possible." he held the books out to her. "Besides I've got a library with a place for you to read. I'm excited to show it to you." You: She shook her head, taking the books back and sitting them on the small stand beside the bed. "It's for the weekend, remember?" she said softly. Before, Mycroft had said that it would start as her staying for the weekend, but she would hopefully end up staying with him. Now, he was reminding her that it was only for the weekend. Did the matron get to him? Tell him whatever she told everyone else? Stranger: "Stop." he said warmly, his voice neither angry nor upset. "You're thinking too much, my dear. I simply don't want you to get your hopes up about me. What if I take you home and you hate it? Or you find I'm terribly boring to be around? Hmm?" he tucked a hair behind her ear again. "What if you don't like my cooking?" he teased, trying to draw her out of her mind. "There's a list of reasons you couldn't be happy with me, you know. This is merely done to protect you. It's my job, you know. It's what I do for a living. Hard to not let that spill over into my personal life." You: "Me not taking books won't help with that, Mr. Holmes," she said. "You talked to me, you actually /liked/ talking to me. I enjoyed talking to you, you aren't boring. I got my hopes up when you said you wanted to adopt me. It's why I told you my real name." Hope, she had too much of it, apparently. "I know how to cook, some things. And there's cookbooks for the rest." He was being realistic, she should be happy about that. Stranger: "Perhaps I have mucked this meeting up before it's begun." he sighed. "I /do/ wish to adopt you, Andrea. You are a darling girl, smart as a whip, strong. You have a fire within you that is very rarely seen in adults my age, let alone young woman such as yourself." he brushed a thumb over her cheek. "You'll find I have been a terribly guarded man since I lost my family, as I'm sure you can relate to. I wish for nothing more than to have you as my daughter." he was being honest, but realistic. He feared the worst, he always had. It was a coping mechanism. You: "You haven't mucked it up. You're being realistic, adults are good at that." She was too, but sometimes, like today, she was able to let her optimism overrule that. It happened rarely, but it happened. She could understand that he had been guarded, she had been too, which was why she had unpacked her books. She didn't want to force him to do anything, even if it was just admitting that he wanted her to stay. She removed her clothes, except what she would need for the weekend. If they did get along, they could come back for everything else. Stranger: He frowned again, trying to stop her. "Love. Please. You aren't hearing what I said." he pulled her to stand directly in front of him, tilting her chin up to look her in the eyes. "I wish for nothing more than to adopt you, Andrea. I think if anyone is suited to be my daughter, you would be the prime candidate. I was being completely honest when I said I see so much of myself in you." You: She looked up at him obediently. "I do understand Mycroft. Honestly. Well, the second time you said it I understood it. You're being realistic. We might not get along, even if I think we will. We'll go to your house for the weekend, and if we get along then we can come back and I can get the rest of my stuff while you're filling out the paperwork. You're used to being alone though, so seeing if you can live with me before you adopt me is a good idea." Stranger: He smiled at her, nodding his head. "You are, my dear, are a very observant girl. I think you'll fit in nicely at the manor." he pulled her into a hug before standing. "Well. You are free to go with me today. It appears I have passed all the required background checks. And it only took a few coarse remarks to the matron." he smirked, picking up her bag. "Shall we?" You: She smiled, tilting her head curiously. "Manor?" She hadn't heard of other people calling their homes manors, not outside of books anyway. Her house had been slightly larger than average, but she wouldn't call it a manor. What would Mycroft's house look like? "What did the matron say?" She hadn't heard of the matron making inappropriate comments before. Stranger: "Yes, dear, manor. It's a family home, been in the Holmes family for many years. It's the house my brother and I grew up in, the house I was raising Eleanor in. It's got five bedrooms, a study, a library, a dining room, a sitting room, servants quarters, though I no longer have servants. There's a music room, a few fireplaces, a garden in the back. " he said, happily describing his home. "The matron insinuated that I was simply showing interest in you because of your father's name. And your inheritance." You: She rolled her eyes. "The matron says that a lot. I had a lot of people who wanted to talk to me in the beginning who said that too. You're not like them, plus you don't need my father's name to further your career. I think you're higher than he was, even if you claim to have a minor position." She had listened interestedly when he described the house, smiling slightly. "It sounds wonderful Mycroft. Especially the library. And the garden." Stranger: "You are correct, my dear. Though I tend to not use my position unless absolutely needed. I can guarantee you I do not have any interest in your inheritance. I have plenty of money on my own. You're inheritance will stay securely where it is until after you finish university." he held the door open for them as they exited the building. "I do hope you enjoy my home. I really do have a surprise in the library for you" Stranger: (brb. Have to take my puppy out. Less than ten minutes!) You: [Okay] You: "A surprise?" she asked, looking up curiously. "What kind of surprise?" She thought back to her parents last surprise for her, before the accident. They were planning on going to see a play. She had hoped it would be Phantom of the Opera or Beauty and the Beast. "I think I'll enjoy your home Mycroft. It sounds really nice." Stranger: "Yes. It's something Eleanor put together. She enjoyed reading as well. Though she was too young for such advanced books. I read to her every night in the library." he nodded to his driver as the man opened the car door for them. "Thank you, Tom. This is Anthea. Anthea, this is Tom, my driver. He's been with me my family for twenty years." he said introducing them. "And a wonderful family it is, sir. Nice to meet you, miss." the man said tipping his hat. "Are we going to the manor or will there be any stops along the way?" he asked Mycroft. "That depends on Anthea. What do you say, love? Anywhere you want to go?" You: Anthea nodded when she was introduced to Tom, giving him a small smile. She was inwardly pleased that Mycroft had kept her real name a secret. She didn't mind being Andrea to him, but no one else needed to know her real name. Tom seemed nice, but she didn't know him yet. "It's nice to meet you to," she said softly, curtsying neatly like her mother had taught her. She looked up at Mycroft when he asked her if there was anywhere she wanted to go. "Where would we go?" she asked, confused. "I thought we were going to your home...I haven't really been anywhere except on the day trips, not since the accident." Stranger: "Home, it is, Tom." he said, holding out a hand to help her into the car. "I merely meant to inquire as to where you would go, given the option, my dear. The world is your oyster, so to speak." he settled in next to her, depositing her bag on the seat opposite them. "Perhaps tomorrow we can go out and explore the city, hmm? After you've had plenty of time to explore the house. There are lots of places to see." he leaned his head back as the car pulled away and into traffic, towards his home. He was excited and nervous, a dangerous combination. You: She let Mycroft help her into the car, looking out the window as they pulled away from the orphanage. She hadn't seen much of the city, so Mycroft's offer to go exploring sounded perfect. She wondered if she would want to leave the house though. It sounded perfect, and with an actual /library/...she would probably not want to do anything but read for the two days she would be there. Exploring the house would be interesting too. Old houses usually had small secrets, and she wanted to try to discover them all. You: [still typing?] Stranger: (No, I'll resend) Stranger: He let Anthea be alone with her thoughts for a few moments while he pulled out his mobile and ran through some emails. Unfortunately for him, with great power came great responsibility. The governments of the world did not stop simply because Mycroft Holmes wanted a family. He made sure his schedule was cleared for the remainder of the weekend, only emergency phone calls let through to his private number. He also sent his PA out for a small present for Anthea. He smiled when everything came together and slipped his phone back into his coat pocket. He watched her then, eyes following the city as it moved past her, excited and wild with possibilities. The warmth was spreading again as she sat beside him. He began to hope, more so now than before, that she would stay. He was pulled away when the car turned into the gate of the manor. "We're here, love." The gate was tall, black iron wrought work, opening up to a long winding driveway. Stranger: (I've got to step away for a second. brb) You: Anthea glanced at Mycroft a few times on the drive, noticing that he was using his phone to check his emails. Most likely working, her dad had done that sometimes, and he had had a less to do than Mycroft did. She thought about where they were going, watching London flash by. She was content, comfortable. She didn't feel like she needed to be on her guard. She trusted Mycroft, and she hoped that he would let her stay. She didn't think that she could bear him deciding that she wouldn't be suitable, so she hoped that he would want her to stay with him. Her eyes widened at the gate and long, winding drive. "It's like something out of a book." You: [okay] Stranger: (Hi! Sorry. Had to put the husband to bed.) You: [It's fine.] Stranger: "Eleanor called it her castle." he mused, looking out his own window as if seeing the house for the first time in ages. It was dark gray stone, perfectly manicured bushes lined the driveway and the front of the house. The lawn was thick and green, well trimmed. It was two stories tall, but large, it went further back than it let on from the front. The yard sloping downwards over the hill as it met the backyard. Tom opened the door for the pair again, Mycroft sliding out first and offering another hand to Anthea. Mycroft shouldered her bag, nodding his thanks to Tom, as the man closed the door and drove away. "Welcome to Holmes Manor, Andrea." You: Anthea slipped out of the car after him, looking around with wide eyes. "I can see why she called it that," she murmured. "It looks kind of like what I imagined Eleanor's house would look like in Inkheart. I always liked her, even if she was too strict about her books. Her books were her family though, so it makes sense." She hadn't meant to ramble, and she gave him a slightly apologetic smile when she realized that she was. "Sorry. It is beautiful though." You: [Omegle glitching again?] Stranger: (yeah! I'll resend!) Stranger: "Do not apologize. You were hardly speaking out of turn my dear. Now, I believe I owe you a tour." he held out his elbow for her to loop her arm through. He led her up the stairs to the front door, unlocking and pushing the heavy wooden door in. The area they stepped into was a small entryway, there was a place to hang coats, store shoes and bags, and a mirror and seat for getting ready to go out. He hung her bag up, along with his own things before they continued. "To the left is the kitchen, with the breakfast nook." he nodded at the doorway to their left. "On this side, you have the sitting room." he turned as he spoke. "Through here, is the rest of the house." he stepped forward through the small hallway where it opened into a wider foyer, a sweeping staircase curved up to the second floor, while the bottom held more doorways. "Downstairs are the extra bedrooms, the door that leads to the back veranda and out to the gardens and two bathrooms and the music room. Upstairs are the bedrooms I told you about, plus my study and the library. And, of course a few more bathrooms." You: She looped her arm through his elbow obligingly, looking around wide eyed as they walked through the house, taking in everything that he told her. It was as beautiful inside as it was outside. She couldn't believe that one person actually lived here. It looked well loved, but also rather empty. As though the house was reflecting it's owner's loneliness. She didn't say that, quite used to keeping those kinds of observations to herself. She didn't want to hurt Mycroft by saying that. "I knew, obviously, from the little you said, that it was nice...but your house is beautiful Mycroft. Like something from a book." Stranger: "Well thank you, my dear. Would you like to go and pick a room out?" he asked moving to the stairs. They opened at the top to another landing, complete with pictures lining the wall of Mycroft's ancestors, his wife and his daughter. "The two doors down that hall." he said pointing to their left, "Are bedrooms. They share a bathroom straight across the hall." He turned his head. "To the right, my bedroom is the first door on the right. My study is the last door along the same wall. The library is on the opposite wall, situated between a bathroom and a bedroom. Which way?" You: Pick a bedroom or go to the library? She wanted to see the library, of course, but she also knew she wouldn't want to leave it if she went there first. She also didn't want to make Mycroft keep carrying around her bag, so she decided to pick a bedroom. "Bedrooms please." She noted where Mycroft told her where his room was, but she doubted she would use that knowledge. Even when she had nightmares about her parents (although thankfully their frequency had lessened) she had never bothered anyone else with them. Stranger: He nodded, moving to the left. He released her arm. "Go on then. Open them up and find one you like." he stood smiling in anticipation as he waited for her to move. He was practically bouncing on his feet, feeling like things were slowly beginning to settle into place for him. It had been so long, /so long/ since he'd felt this way. "You may choose any of these rooms, Andrea. They are all perfectly suited for you." he added. When she moved ahead of him, his phone vibrated, his PA. He typed a few notes out on his phone before he slid it away again, smiling to himself. You: She nodded, looking at the two bedrooms before opening the door to the first one, stepping inside hesitantly. She looked around, eyes lighting on the window seat and going over to look out the window, smiling slightly at the view. It would be lovely to sit there, whether to read or do homework, or to just sit and think. The room was cozy, and she nodded as she looked back at Mycroft. She was sold rather easily. "I like this room." She could sense his excitement and smiled. She felt like she was home, a feeling she had been missing for a long time. Stranger: He nodded. "Then you may keep it, love." he sat her bag down on the queen sized four poster bed. "Would you like me to leave so that you can put your things away?" he asked. "Or would you like to go and see the library now that you've found a bedroom?" He saw it in her eyes as she met his gaze again. She was comfortable, at peace. It was strange to think she may actually enjoy living with him. You: She wandered over to the bed, running her hand over the blankets and shaking her head. "Would it be alright if I put my things away later?" It would take a few minutes, she hadn't brought much. "I really would like to see the library now. I'll put my clothes away after that, I promise." She smiled slightly as she remembered saying similar things to her parents. I'll finish the chapter then start my homework, Can I please read the last few pages before I set the table, etc. Stranger: He nodded. "Of course, my dear." he turned and left the room motioning for her to follow him. The passed the stairs and his bedroom door. "You're welcome in anytime, love. Just remember to knock. Sometimes I take phone calls here that aren't always appropriate for little girls, yes? Same goes for my study." he paused in front of the first door on the right. There was a sign hanging from a white ribbon. It was written in child's script and colored appropriately, Eleanor's room. Mycroft thought of saying something, but continued down to the library. "Close your eyes, Andrea." he opened the door once she complied, leading her in and over to a small corner. It had been Eleanor's reading nook, complete with fluffy pillows, thick blankets, a canopy, giving the area a hidden feel. In the middle of the pile set a plush teddy bear, with a red ribbon around it's neck. It was holding the few books she'd left at the orphanage. "Open them, love." You: Anthea looked at the sign on the door as they passed Eleanor's room. She didn't comment, simply continued following after Mycroft. She would have been the same way if she was showing someone around her parents' house. Their door would be closed, and probably locked, unless she wanted to go in to remember them. She closed her eyes as instructed, trusting Mycroft to keep her from bumping into anything as she followed after him. It was easy to follow his footsteps, and she stopped when his footsteps did, opening her eyes when instructed and blinking as her eyes adjusted. She took in the library and the reading nook, looking confusedly at the teddy bear with the books. Why would Mycroft have a teddy bear? Stranger: He waited for her to realize the bear and books were hers. "Go and look, Andrea. This is my surprise for you. Go on. It's alright." he said, hoping she'd understand what it meant. What he hoped would be the beginning of a beautiful relationship. The thought of having a child in his house again, warmed him. The home was empty, he noticed, his family noticed, there was no hiding it. It needed a woman's touch. It needed a family. Perhaps one day it would have just that. You: She glanced back at him in confusion before going to pick up the books the bear was holding, smiling when she realized they were hers. Even her Catherine the Great book was there. She put them aside after a few minutes, picking up the bear next. It's fur was soft and smooth, and the assistant had sprayed it with Mycroft's cologne, in case she was adopted and he had to go on one of his business trips. She wouldn't miss him as much, hopefully, with the bear. Anthea hugged it close, closing her eyes. "Thank you." Stranger: "You're welcome, sweetheart." He stood, hands in his pockets, watching her carefully. The light in her face was apparent the moment realization struck her. And he couldn't have asked for a better homecoming. "Would you like to stay and read while I go and make us some tea?" he asked, the old habit of having a cup when he got home, bubbling up to the surface. You: She nodded, opening her eyes and setting the bear down carefully on top of the books. "I'll go back to my room and put everything away while you make tea?" She actually had the majority of her possessions with her now, all of her books and some of her clothes. They would really only need to go back to the orphanage to get the rest of her clothes. Stranger: He chuckled. "Following through on your promises, I see. Working had to impress me, no doubt. Join me downstairs in the kitchen when you're done, yes?" he brushed her hair again before turning from the room and heading downstairs. He sorted through more emails as he waited on the tea to steep. Eventually he set about looking for some snacks for them, frowning when he realized he didn't know what she liked. You: She nodded, smiling when he bushed her hair again before leaving. She gathered up the books and bear, setting them on her bed once she got to her room. She put the clothes away quickly, moving the books to the nightstand beside her bed and putting her bag in the closet. She was glad there was a lamp on the nightstand. If she woke up from a nightmare, she never could go back to sleep. She could turn on the small lamp and read if that happened. She set the bear so it was leaning against the pillows, smiling, before going to find Mycroft. Stranger: "I should have asked you what you liked to eat on our way in. I could have had Sara pick up some things for you." he frowned turning from the pantry. He picked up two mugs of tea and brought them to the small table. "You are, of course, welcome to anything you find. Though I would hate for you to go hungry. Might not go over well with the matron." he teased. You: She shrugged slightly, taking the cup of tea once she had sat at the small table. "I don't think she would care," she said thoughtfully, more thinking out loud than actually talking to Mycroft. "I spent an entire day and night in the garden before, trying to get a kitten out of a tree. They ended up locking the doors before I got back inside, so I slept outside. I got to my bed before the morning bed check, so the matron never knew." Stranger: Mycroft frowned. "Did things like that happen often? You not being properly looked after." he would not hesitate to do a thorough investigation of the orphanage and the matron. The woman had rubbed him the wrong way, and he would hardly just stand by and let it pass. You did not cross Mycroft Holmes. And you most certainly did not cross him where his child was concerned. /His/ child. He smiled at the thought. You: Anthea shrugged, not noticing Mycroft's expression. "Sometimes. The kitten thing was one time, another it was a stray dog. It had hurt it's paw and it was really skinny. Another time I just climbed one of the trees to read in peace, and ended up staying out there all day and falling asleep in the tree. They never paid much attention to me. I'm quiet, well behaved. They don't have to keep as close of an eye on me as they do some of the others." Stranger: He sipped his tea carefully. An investigation it was, then. "Well behaved women, rarely make history." he teased. "Though I would ask that you remain so courteous and well behaved for me when you come to live here. Though I'm sure we won't have a problem." he turned his cup when he set it down again. "You won't be able to spend the night outside though, once you're here. I must insist you use the bed I work hard to provide." You: She nodded. She could do that. If she woke up and needed a distraction from what she remembered of her nightmare, she could read or sit in her window seat. If she needed to walk, she could do that in her room. "Some of the most influential people in history likely were never written down in the history books, as they were smart enough to remain behind the scenes," she pointed out calmly, setting her cup down as well. Stranger: He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head at her. "You are a darling girl. I see great things in your future, Andrea. Great things, indeed." he admired her spunk, her knowledge, her quiet hidden drive that lingered just below the surface. She was such an old soul in a young body. You: She smiled. "I doubt you will be written down in the history books, Mycroft, but you're a great man and you probably do great things." That much was obvious who took the time to look. Mycroft Holmes was more than he pretended to be. Stranger: "My job does not allow a paper trail in the more important things I do, Andrea. However, I do great things on a weekly basis. As did your father." he added, hoping to make her relate even more to him. To show her he did not want to replace her parents. You: "My dad did have a paper trail a lot of the time," she said, thinking back to the (very few) things her parents had told her about her dad's job. She considered that, comparing the two. She wondered if Mycroft did that with her, comparing her to Eleanor and noting the similarities and differences. She wasn't a replacement for his daughter anymore than he was a replacement for her parents. Stranger: He hummed, sipping his tea. "It turns out I did know your father, Andrea. Not personally, we passed in the building man times. He was even on my team for peace talks once. He was a brilliant man. Very kind, dedicated to his job." You: She looked up, drawn out of her musings when he spoke. "He really liked his job," she agreed. "We used to sit together after breakfast, before he had to go to work and I had to go to school, and we'd read the paper together. He'd point out articles about things he was working on. Sometimes he would point to a specific one a few days later and say that 'M' solved it, whatever problem it was. I wondered who the 'M' he talked about was." Stranger: "Did he now?" he mused. "One of the great mysterious of the world, I'm sure. Perhaps one day you'll learn who 'M' is. But not before you've completed your studies at the schools of your choice." he teased. "Education is very important, my darling girl. With it you are not to be stopped." You: She nodded. "I know. My parents used to say that too. Knowledge is power. It's why that 'M' person is so powerful, most likely. He's likely very intelligent. I'll have to figure out what career field I want to go into, but if I go into politics at all, I'll probably find out who he is." She shook her head with a small smile. "Not as intelligent as you though, I don't think." Stranger: "You will be in time, Andrea. You are young, you've got the entire world at your fingertips. And I only hope I can be there to watch you discover it and help you in pursuing your goals, your dreams." he pushed his finally empty cup aside. "Now, what, my dear? Will you spend the rest of the day reading upstairs? Or perhaps exploring the house and gardens?" You: She considered that. Exploring sounded tempting, but curling up with a book did too, whether it was one of hers or one of Mycroft's. She didn't feel comfortable using the reading nook, she could read in her room after she borrow a book from Mycroft's library. "I think I want to read for a bit. Is it okay if I go to the library?" Stranger: "You're welcome to go where you please, Andrea. Go and have fun. I'll be in my study, if you need me." he stood and took their cups to the sink, rinsing them out. "We'll decide on dinner later this afternoon, yes?" You: She nodded, handing him her cup and hovering indecisively for a moment while Mycroft rinsed the cups out before stepping forward and hugging him, quickly pulling away to go to the library and find a book to read before going up to her room. Stranger: Mycroft was shocked at the hug. Why he wasn't sure, perhaps it was the fact he didn't see it coming. Or the fact that Anthea left so suddenly after she'd squeezed him round his middle. He didn't try to hide the smile that spread across his face. He made his way up to his study, sitting down in front of his computer to answer a few emails while Anthea was off reading and enjoying herself. You: Anthea picked up a copy of Matilda, in the mood to read something funny rather than serious as she had been earlier. She went to curl up in her window seat, taking the bear with her and setting it beside her, opening the book to read. She heard Mycroft go to his study, remembering his earlier dictate that she needed to knock on the door before she entered either the bedroom or study. Simple, easy to remember, but she doubt she would bother him in either place unless it was absolutely necessary. Stranger: (Sorry, love. It's 3am and I need to get to bed. This was glorious fun! Thank you You: [Thank you too :) Do you want to continue again sometime?] Stranger: (Sure. May have to wait until Thursday I work later today and it gets rather busy! I'll message you!) You: [Works for me :) I have to watch my nephew later today, so I won't be at the computer much until later or tomorrow.] Stranger: (Aw cute! Have fun, love! Night!) Stranger has disconnected. http://logs.omegle.com/6e89128 You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like potterotter, mythea, johnlock, mystrade, kidlock, and omegaverse. You: [Hi :) ] Stranger: (How goes it? It's Potterotter, do you remember what we've played before by any chance?) You: [Yes. We were doing a kidlock rp. Mycroft adopted Anthea.] Stranger: (Oh dear me, yes! Hi! Are you wanting to continue with that or would you like to do something different?) You: [If you'd prefer it we can do something different, but I'd like to continue.] Stranger: (That's totally fine. Do you happen to have where we left off?) You: [I think I do. Give me a minute to find the log.] You: [Okay, I found it :) Here's the link to the log: http://logs.omegle.com/6e89128 and here's my last reply] You: Anthea picked up a copy of Matilda, in the mood to read something funny rather than serious as she had been earlier. She went to curl up in her window seat, taking the bear with her and setting it beside her, opening the book to read. She heard Mycroft go to his study, remembering his earlier dictate that she needed to knock on the door before she entered either the bedroom or study. Simple, easy to remember, but she doubt she would bother him in either place unless it was absolutely necessary. Stranger: (Awesome! Two minutes, love!) You: [Okay :) ] Stranger: Two hours later Mycroft's cell phone rang. He picked it up, looking at the number before grumbling; it was Sherlock, calling to annoy him about a case or lack there of. He pushed answer, holding the phone up to his ear. What surprised him most about the call came from the fact that Sherlock was congratulating him on finding a child, and not pestering him about underground murders. Mycroft stood and left his study, moving down to Anthea's room, knocking lightly on the door as Sherlock babbled on in his ear. "Yes, I'm aware she's an older child. Yes, Sherlock, I'm fairly certain I can handle her." he opened the door. "No, Sherlock. She will not assist you on experiments, that's what John is for." he smiled at the sight of her, rolling his eyes as his brother continued. "Yes, yes. We'll be sure not to visit. Goodbye, Sherlock." He stepped further into the room. "Enjoying your afternoon, my dear?" You: Anthea finished Matilda within an hour, staying curled up in the window seat with her bear and looking out the window. The mansion was beautiful, and the grounds were gorgeous, and she enjoyed watching the birds flying around as she thought about what had happened that day. She honestly hadn't expected any of the potential adopters to even talk to her (they usually never did), and she definitely hadn't expected to meet someone like Mycroft. He reminded her of her dad a little, and he was interesting. Her contemplation of the grounds was broken when she heard Mycroft's voice. She listened, frowning as she heard what he was saying. Who was he talking to? It was obviously about her, considering that Mycroft kept saying 'her' and mentioned an 'older child'. The comment about experiments threw her, but she brushed that thought aside as Mycroft entered the room. "Yes. It's nice here, and a lot less loud than the orphanage usually is." Stranger: "Well, I'm glad you're enjoying the quiet. You know you're welcome to wander around the mansion, yes? You don't have to stay tucked away in your room." he slid in beside her carefully lifting her legs to put them in his lap. He smoothed out the material around her legs, amazed at the comfortableness. "That.." he began, "If you're interested was my dear and darling brother, Sherlock. Apparently word has traveled quite quickly that I brought you home. The phone call was his way of saying he'd like to meet you." Mycroft looked down to the Andrea and her bear. "Though neither of us would admit it, we've become quite a bit closer since my wife and daughter died. I think he realizes how lonely life is now. He's got a flat mate, Dr. Watson. John's done wonders for him, really." You: Anthea smiled when Mycroft sat down beside her, mildly surprised when Mycroft put her legs in his lap. She tilted her head when he mentioned his brother. Mycroft had mentioned his brother once or twice before, but this was the first she had heard about him wanting to meet her. "We just got here a few hours ago, how did he find out about me so fast?" Granted, if Sherlock was anywhere near as intelligent as Mycroft seemed to be, it wouldn't be surprising that the younger Holmes was able to figure out that his brother had found a child to adopt. "I would like to meet him, if you want to introduce us," she said, considering. It would probably be a good idea to meet Mycroft's brother soon. He might have a reason for Mycroft to not adopt Anthea, but she hoped that she would make a good impression. Stranger: "I told Sherlock last week I was considering paying a visit to the orphanage. If I know my brother he's been stalking my movements in the name of science." he chuckled. "Sherlock's quite a character, Andrea. He wants nothing more than to make sure you'll fit in. He was quite happy to be an uncle all that time ago. I think a part of him misses it." he reached out and brushed a hand across her cheek. "Are you hungry, my dear? We could go and find something to make for dinner. Or we could go out, if you'd like. I know you certainly never got treated to a night on the town very often." You: "I never went anywhere except for on the day trips since I went to the orphanage," Anthea said, shrugging. "My parents took me places when they both had time, but at the orphanage there wasn't enough time to take all of us places." She considered his suggestion, looking out the window before looking back at Mycroft. "Maybe we could go out and get something to eat and then go see your brother? Or we could meet him wherever we go?" Neither of her parents had siblings, so she had never had an uncle before. She wondered what Mycroft's brother would be like. Something told her that he wouldn't be anyone's idea of a traditional uncle. Stranger: "\ Stranger: (Wow. Sorry.) You: [It's fine.] Stranger: "I think that sounds like a fine idea. How about I go and change out of these stuffy clothes and then we can stop by Baker Street for you to meet Sherlock." he patted her legs before standing. "I'll call him and make sure he's put away all the dangerous chemicals. Sherlock enjoys experimenting when he's not working on cases. Twenty minutes, love." he pulled his cell out again, calling Sherlock back to arrange a meeting. After dinner it was, seeing as how Sherlock was now on a case with Lestrade. Mycroft moved into his room, tugging off his three piece suit. He settled on a pair of plain black slacks, a white button up shirt and a light blue jumper. Twenty minutes later, as promised, he was standing in Anthea's doorway. "What do you think? You: Anthea smiled, standing as Mycroft left the room and going to put her bear on the bed. She went to Mycroft's library to put the book back, going back to her room and smoothing out her dress, brushing her hair as well. She wanted to make a good impression when she met her uncle. She had just finished getting ready when Mycroft came back in. She hadn't expected to see him in anything other than a three piece suit, so his more casual clothes were surprising. He still looked dignified and respectable, simply more comfortable than he had before. "You look fine," she said, smiling. "It's odd seeing you in casual clothes rather than the suit, but it looks really nice regardless." Stranger: He held out his arms to the girl. "I'll tell you a secret, my dear. I'm rarely this casual because I feel quite powerless without my suits. But something tells me that's all going to change now." he kissed the top of her hair and ushered her out of the room. They walked down the hall and descended the steps to the front hallway. Mycroft tugged on a light jacket, helping Anthea with hers before opening the door. "Would you like for me to continue to introduce you as Anthea?" he asked, wanting to be clear about her wishes. You: She hugged him, letting him lead her from the room and smiling at the kiss to the top of her head. "I understand. Dressing formally makes people respect you more easily, and you seem more powerful as well." Anthea considered his question as Mycroft helped her with her jacket, not answering until they were on their way out the door. "He is your brother, so it would probably be better if he knows my real name. Wouldn't it?" If Mycroft did adopt her, she would likely spend time with his brother at some point, so maybe it was better to tell him her real name upfront. Stranger: "You'd think that. But Sherlock is..different. We both are, really. I'd prefer that you tell him only what you are comfortable with telling him at this point. He'll be able to read you somewhat better than I can. He uses his deductive powers to solve crimes for a living." he smiled at the driver, who opened the car door for them. "After you, my dear." he eventually slid in next to her as the door was shut. They pulled out of the drive and turned down the road in the direction of Baker street. "I'm sure Sherlock will adore you as much as I do, Andrea. Dr. Watson too." Stranger: (I'm sorry love, I've got to run for a bit. I hope to be back on within an hour.) You: [Okay. Do you want to continue when you get back?] Stranger: (Sure. I've got to pack up my laptop so I'll lose the connection with you here. But I'll try to find you as soon as I get back on!) You: [Okay. If not, you can send me a message on tumblr and we can set up a tag.] Stranger: (Sweet. Will do love. What's your tumblr name again?) You: [beargirl1393.tumblr.com] Stranger: (Yay. Thanks, talk to you in a bit, love!) You: [Talk to you in a bit :) ] Stranger has disconnected. http://logs.omegle.com/cdb15f8

#kidlock #kid anthea #Mycroft Holmes #anthea

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like mystrade, and femlock. You: [wrong number] I don't know how much longer I can hide this from him. -GL [fem] Stranger: Oh, god, I do hope you did not intentionally send me that. SH You: God no. No, I was texting someone else, and you apparently got it by mistake. I would say sorry, but your look of horror is probably priceless. -GL Stranger: Your sexual fantasies about my brother are most likely not hidden. I've deduced them entirely too easy. Surely he has noticed as well. SH You: I spend very little time with your brother since I started thinking like that. They aren't all sexual, by the way. Although there is that one about us in his car...-GL Stranger: Lestrade, if you send me another text in which you complete that thought I will make it my personal job to strangle you in your sleep. SH You: I'd like to see you try. I'm a light sleeper. No, I won't complete the thought, however, even though you've probably deduced everything. -GL Stranger: Unfortunately. SH You: Um, so I could hardly have traumatized you more by saying what I was thinking. -GL Stranger: [delay] Sherlock told me that you needed to talk? JW You: Did he have a look of abject horror? If so, please tell me you took a picture. -GL Stranger: Very much so, and sadly, no, he disappeared to his room before I could. JW You: Damn. Oh well, there's always next time. I was going to text you anyway. I slipped and sent it to him instead though. -GL Stranger: What was it about, then? I can't think of anything that would make him look so distraught. JW You: I was talking about Mycroft, and I started to describe one of the sexual fantasies Sherlock deduced that I have. -GL Stranger: Ah. That would do it. Was it the car one you told me at the pub last week when you were drunk? JW You: Yeah. He threatened to strangle me in my sleep. -GL Stranger: Ha. He uses that one on me a lot. JW You: Which fantasies do you describe to get him to say that to you? -GL Stranger: Once I told him I fancied his brother. The other time, he deduced I had a wank in the shower and the only thing to do was to tell him in excruciating detail what I was imagining. JW You: Oh God, I would /kill/ to have seen his face after that. Do you fancy Mycroft? I thought your tastes ran towards the other Holmes twat. -GL Stranger: Oh, he's all yours, don't worry. And I'm not going to bother commenting on the second half of that text. JW You: Good, I don't need to be competing with 'Three Continents Watson'. Why aren't you commenting? -GL Stranger: I could definitely give you a run for your money if I wanted ;) And, because we've had this conversation before. There's nothing between Sherlock and I. JW You: You haven't seen me out of my work clothes doctor. And I know, but it is fun to needle you a bit. -GL Stranger: For all you know, I've imagined it. You're just as bad as everyone else, though. JW You: You and every other bloody man I've worked with. I'm not just as bad. I honestly know you two aren't like that, I just love messing with you. Everyone else believes you're soulmates. -GL Stranger: In my defense, it was only toward the beginning when I first met you and didn't know you well. Now that we're friends it'd be strange. Not that you're not attractive, but you understand? JW You: I understand, don't worry. I had a few thoughts about you too. The whole 'handsome ex-army doctor' bit. I was distracted by a handsome politician though. -GL Stranger: I don't blame you. He is a bit handsome. JW Stranger: Though don't mistake that for me not being utterly wounded that your attraction to me didn't last longer. JW You: Oh, Doctor Watson, I need you to make a housecall immediately. I am absolutely /perishing/ for want of you. -GL Better? -GL Stranger: Much. Cheers. JW Stranger: So when was the last time you saw Mycroft? JW You: Good. -GL Hell, it was...three, nearly four months ago. I've been avoiding him. -GL Stranger: Yes, that is definitely the best way to go about getting a leg over. Just send him a text. Ask him out for coffee or something. JW You: Well, I want a bit more than just getting a leg over. Although that sounds fantastic. Posh bloke like him though...-GL Stranger: He's got that bit of public school in his accent, doesn't he? JW Stranger: And still, I stand by what I said. Text him. See what happens. Worst case scenario he gets you reassigned to Siberia, or something. JW You: Who would give the mad wanker you live with cases if I was reassigned to Siberia? -GL You: And it's more than a /bit/ of public school in his accent. -GL Stranger: Definitely not Sally, who I'm assuming would get your job. JW You: She's next in line, so yeah. You really think I should text him? -GL Stranger: I do. You're a DI, Lestrade. Surely you've got the balls to send the man a text. JW You: You haven't the balls to ask out that bird you've been flirting with, so you don't have room to criticize, Watson. -GL Stranger: Which bird are you referring to? JW You: With you, it seems to change quite a bit, 'Bachelor' John Watson. -GL Stranger: That bloody moniker. At least the tabloids haven't gotten hold of the 'Three Continents Watson' one yet. And I never said I was looking to ask anyone out. I, unlike you, am solely on the market for getting a leg over currently. JW You: Because you have an arrogant, antisocial, asexual wanker at home who prevents you from doing more than getting a leg over. I'm looking for something a bit more settled. I can find a quick shag any time. Mycroft's actually a keeper. -GL Stranger: Christ, you are so far gone on him. JW You: Oh shut it, or I'll leak the 'Three Continents Watson' nickname to the tabloids. -GL Stranger: I dare you. I've still got the picture from the new year's party where Sherlock kissed you to prove a point. I can't imagine how the public would feel about you letting an amateur in on cases simply because of your love for him. JW You: Please. I have a picture of Sherlock snogging /you/ when he was high during that Adler mess. I think they would latch onto that more. I can already see the headlines. 'Love blossoming in 221b'. -GL Stranger: Bugger. I thought you'd deleted that. JW You: Nope. I keep a comprehensive store of blackmail. -GL Stranger: I'll have to have Sherlock destroy all of it at some point. JW You: He's been looking since about two years after I started consulting him, and he hasn't found it yet. -GL Stranger: You are an absolutely evil woman. JW You: Yes, yes I am. Glad to see you've finally noticed. -GL Stranger: You and Mycroft will be perfect together. JW You: Imagine the blackmail /he/ has on you two. Do you really want us to join forces? -GL Stranger: Come to think of it, he's probably not the best bloke you could fine. Most of his work is done from a desk, so he'd be hardly in great shape. Surely you'd want someone with some stamina. JW You: Mm, I think he would have a lot of stamina. He doesn't waste his energy on legwork, so he has more for other things. And he exercises, so he's in good shape for a man his age. -GL Stranger: Sherlock always says he's not, but of course he's biased. Not to mention that he's so in shape from running about London like a madman, so in comparison I tend to take Sherlock's side. JW You: Sherlock's thin as a whippet and energetic as a greyhound. I like knowing that after a hard day's work, we'll sometimes be able to just sit together. He's calm enough to not constantly need something to do. -GL Stranger: Yeah, but Sherlock keeps things exciting. I think I'd much prefer him. JW Stranger: Right. I'm just going to stop talking now. JW Stranger: Do you even have Mycroft's number? JW You: In all honesty, you two are basically near enough to being married. Without the paperwork and shagging. -GL Of course I have Mycroft's number. His personal and work ones. We were friends before I started avoiding him. -GL Stranger: He goes for people who are good at what they do, according to Sherlock. I can't see any reason he wouldn't fancy you. JW You: I'm a grey, divorced DI who spends far too much time working. And apparently have absolute nutters for friends. -GL Stranger: He spends far too much time working too. And don't even start about your grey hair. It is bloody gorgeous. JW You: You're my friend, you are obligated to say that. -GL I'll just text him. If worst comes to worst, I won't have to see him again. -GL Stranger: ((Brb)) You: ((Okay)) Stranger: I swear, that compliment was coming entirely from the John Watson that was incredibly attracted to you when we first met. Do that. I don't think it'll be all that bad. And then, if you're free tonight, we could go to the pub to either celebrate what happened with you and Mycroft, or help you promptly forget it. JW You: Thanks. -GL And, if it turns out that I need to forget it, I can just go back to looking for quick shags. I always find a few when we go to the pub. -GL Stranger: Too bad Sherlock's got his nose in some experiment. He comes in handy on the days I drag him to the pub, pointing out potentially shags. Usually by the end of the night he drags me away before anything can happen, but still. JW Stranger: *potential You: I'll help you find a good one. Also, there's a new constable on my team, I'll introduce you to her if you strike out. Here goes nothing, I guess. -GL Stranger: Ta. And good luck. JW You: Thanks. -GL [to Mycroft] Hi. You busy? -GL Stranger: [delayed] Not particularly. How may I be of assistance? MH You: I'm wondering what world leader you're ignoring to talk to me now. Anyway. I wanted to know if you wanted to go out for coffee. -GL Stranger: I assure you, it is no one of immediate importance. As for your offer, that would be lovely. How does tomorrow afternoon work for you? MH You: Of course not. And tomorrow will be great. I have a short day, just covering part of someone else's shift really. I'll be out by noon. -GL Stranger: I will be available at 12:30. MH You: Sounds good. Where do you want to meet? -GL Stranger: Where do you usually prefer to get your coffee? MH You: I usually end up getting it from the break room at the Yard, because there's too much going on to go anywhere else. I don't think that's what you mean though. -GL Stranger: Not exactly. There is a café not too far from the Yard that I find has the best coffee around. MH You: We can go there then. Tomorrow at 12:30 then? -GL Stranger: Yes. I look forward to it. MH You: I do too. I haven't seen you too much in the past few months. -GL Stranger: Strangely it has appeared that you were attempting to avoid me. MH You: They always said that you were the smart one. Speaking of which, which one of you Holmes boys is the smarter one? -GL Stranger: You will have to wait for our date to get the answer, assuming that it will be a date. MH You: I believe that would depend on you Mycroft. I'd actually like the answer now though, see how badly I embarrassed myself before I started avoiding you. -GL Stranger: The answers to both of your questions are that I would prefer it to be a date, and that I have two IQ points on my younger brother, much to his dismay. MH You: I'd like it to be a date too, and God, Sherlock probably hates that. So, if he's figured something out in, say, a passing glance...-GL Stranger: You are an intelligent and competent officer. I will let you finish that thought yourself. MH You: Intelligent and competent and apparently rubbish at hiding things from Holmeses. -GL Stranger: I would agree on all parts. MH You: Such a modest man, aren't you? -GL Stranger: Quite. Though I must admit that I feared I myself was transparent in my attraction to you, Ms. Lestrade. MH You: You are anything but transparent Mr. Holmes. You're a closed book full of ciphers and codes. -GL Stranger: In my time I have found that is the best way for me to stay. MH You: In my time, I've found that it's best to have someone who knows the codes and can help you when needed. -GL Stranger: Perhaps. MH You: Definitely. It's half of the reason I go to the pub with John. -GL Stranger: I was under the impression those outings were more for the purpose of getting inebriated. MH You: Getting drunk, getting a leg over, having a heart to heart...those outings serve many purposes. -GL Stranger: I see. MH You: Hm? -GL Stranger: I hope that you will pause your endeavors in finding a pub stranger to 'get a leg over' for the time being. MH You: I just had a laugh imagining you saying that. -GL Stranger: I am glad you found it entertaining. MH Stranger: Unfortunately, I have some business I need to attend to, but I will see you tomorrow. MH You: It was entertaining. I promise not to shag anyone when I go to the pub tonight. -GL See you tomorrow Mycroft. -GL Stranger: I appreciate the promise, thank you. Have a good evening, Detective Inspector. MH You: You're welcome. Have a good evening, Mr. Holmes. -GL Stranger: So? Have you texted him yet? JW You: I just got done talking to him, yeah. -GL Stranger: And? JW You: And what? -GL Stranger: Are you off to Siberia, or do you have a date? JW You: I'm not off to Siberia, and I promised to not try to find a stranger to get a leg over. -GL Stranger: All good news, then. JW You: Very good news, apparently. -GL Stranger: Congrats. Told you it was a good idea. JW You: Well, we'll have to see if that theory holds up tomorrow, but yes. -GL Stranger: I bet he'll have signed over ownership to part of the country by tomorrow night. JW You: Who would he be signing over ownership of the country to? -GL You: [still typing?] Stranger: You, of course. JW Stranger: ((nope, I figured it didn't go through and just resent it. did you get it that time?)) You: [Yeah, thanks] You: Why would he sign over ownership of the country to me? I mean, I know I'm a great shag, but still. -GL Stranger: Oi, don't be getting cocky on me, Lestrade. If he did, I'd say it was because he's just as far gone on you as you are on him. JW You: That's not me being cocky, Watson, that's the truth. If we weren't friends and I didn't have a date, I would prove it. -GL Stranger: Can you imagine if I came home looking well shagged and obviously straight from your flat? That would drive Sherlock up the bloody wall. JW You: It drives Sherlock made when you go home looking well shagged period. He's camped out at mine before. -GL Stranger: Really? I always assumed he just went to the lab. I didn't know it bothered him that much. JW You: Sherlock prefers to delete any and all mentions of sex, from what I've seen, especially when it comes to you. -GL Stranger: Huh. Think he's jealous? JW You: Not about the sex, I don't think. You could shag half of London and it wouldn't bother him. -GL Stranger: That's good. I'm not sure I could make it through half of London, but the sentiment stands. JW You: It would be a bit ambitious, even for you. However, there is a reason Sherlock's chased all of your girlfriends away. -GL Stranger: I have a feeling you're going to tell me what it is. JW You: I don't know for sure, he's never really told me in so many words. Neither have you, really, but it's not hard to see. -GL Stranger: [delayed] My mad flatmate shouldn't be the one talked about so much as his brother, right now. JW Stranger: Where are you meeting Mycroft? JW You: I can multitask, and you know you can't run from this forever. -GL A cafe near the Yard. -GL Stranger: I can run as much as I'd bloody well like to, thanks. When's this date of yours? I can't remember if you've said or not. JW You: I haven't said, and I'm not going to until we talk about this. Tonight's pub night, we'll have a few drinks and discuss our fucked up love lives. All part of being with Holmeses or being interested in them. -GL Stranger: Fucked up indeed. Sounds like a plan. JW You: Perfect. Same time and place as usual? -GL Stranger: Yep. Get the booth in the back, if you get there before me. JW You: I will, and I'll get our usual. We'll need the alcohol for this conversation. -GL Stranger: Lots of alcohol. You're buying. JW You: Says who? -GL Stranger: Says the man without a date. JW You: You have a date. He's probably microwaving eyeballs or dissecting a liver or something. -GL Stranger: Piss off. I'll buy the third round? JW You: As usual. I'll see you then. -GL Stranger: You too. JW Stranger: John got to the bar a bit later than he intended to, and slid into the book where his friend was waiting. "Sorry," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Sherlock and I had a bit of fight. Took a few minutes to sort out." He pulled off his coat and leaned on the table. Stranger: ((brb, sorry!)) You: Grace got to the pub, ordering their usual and going to their booth in the back. She settled in, looking around the pub while she waited for John. She passed him his drink, rolling her eyes and chuckling. "I guess we picked a good time to have this conversation then." You: [Okay] Stranger: John took a big sip, swallowed, wiped the foam from his lip with his arm. "I've got to get at least one beer in me before that happens." He curled one hand into a fist on the table and flexed it, visibly relaxing himself. "So how's work going?" You: "If it helps, I know you don't want to shag him," Grace offered, taking a sip of her beer and running a hand through her hair. "And he doesn't want to shag you. Work's been good. Quiet, mostly paperwork. There haven't been any Sherlock cases thankfully." Stranger: John watched as she pushed a hand through her hair, not wanting to comment yet. "That's good, then. Must mean you guys have everything under control." He nodded and had another sip of his drink. "It is pretty, by the way. Your hair. I wasn't taking the piss before." You: Grace nodded, letting the comment go for the time being. "Despite what certain consultants insinuate, my team isn't full of idiots. If we don't get a difficult case soon, I'll need to placate him with a cold case, but we're managing things at the Yard pretty well at the moment." She didn't touch the comment on her hair. Stranger: John chuckled. "I know you're not an idiot. We're just all idiots in comparison to Holmeses." He shrugged, kicking her lightly under the table. "Speaking of, I was promised the date of your rendez-vous with the elder Holmes." You: "I promised that in return for another conversation," Grace reminded him, kicking him back and taking another sip of her beer. "Tomorrow afternoon. We're going for coffee in a cafe near the Yard." Stranger: John raised his eyebrows as he had a drink "Soon. Wow. He must really fancy you." He cleared his throat. "I don't think I want to shag Sherlock, no. I've, well, I've thought about it. But." John rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Objectively, he is gorgeous." You: "He's the one who suggested tomorrow, so I hope he fancies me," Grace said, before sighing. "Objectively, I agree, Sherlock is gorgeous. You really don't want to shag him though. You want to be with him, forcing food on him and keeping him from getting himself killed, forever." Stranger: "So what does that mean, then?" John asked, fingers drumming against his drink. "Who even knows what he wants? And how would that even work? What would we be, platonic life partners?" He stared into his beer, brow furrowed. You: Grace thought about it, sipping her drink. "I've known Sherlock for about five years longer than you have. I saw him through the drug thing, rehab, and beginning consulting. In all that time, he's never cared about someone as much as he does about you. That, I've noticed and he's told me in bits and pieces." Stranger: John pressed his lips together, mulling that over in his head. He knew that, sort of, but it still was reassuring to hear. He looked up after a moment and had a sip of beer, mostly for something to do before responding. He had a few ideas of things to say, about caring for him as well, or disagreeing, but instead blurted out, "What has he told you?" You: Grace smiled, shaking her head. "You're the only one who consistently manages to surprise him. He's got a space in that mind palace of is devoted to you, and he'd rather delete the details of an interesting case than remove a thing about you. He has no interest in sex, never has, but he once considered seducing you to see what the big deal was, make you happy, and get to enjoy the cuddling that comes after. He's said that and more." Stranger: John let out a long breath and tipped his head back. "Christ. That's-" he shook his head and had a long sip. "I don't even know what to do with that." He wiped his palm on his jeans, wet from the condensation on his beer. "I didn't know he liked cuddling," he mumbled, a puzzled look on his face. You: "Physical affection seems to be a hit with him," Grace admitted, taking a long sip of her beer before setting it down with a sigh. "I found that out when he was going through withdrawal. He enjoys physical affection from people he trusts. Cuddling, possibly even kissing. I never asked that far." Stranger: John finished his beer and tilted his head toward the bar. "Second round's your job," he reminded her, trying to sound more relaxed than he was. He wished for a moment that he had Sherlock's brain, so he could remember everything Grace said, word for word. You: Grace sighed, finishing her beer before going to get the next round. "Platonic life partner would be a pretty good description, I guess," she said thoughtfully as she sat down again. "Like I said, it's already like you two are married, just without the rings and the shagging." Stranger: "I'd still want the shagging though. Maybe not from him, but I'd prefer something more than just my own hand," he said, one eyebrow raised at nothing in particular, taking his second pint with a nod of his head in thanks. He winced. "Sorry. This was supposed to be about you and your new bloke. Not me and my shite." You: "Well, me and my bloke haven't gotten anywhere yet, so we can talk about him another time," she said, shrugging. She leaned back in her seat, thinking. "You'd have to talk to Sherlock, obviously, but...what about carrying on like you are now? Not exactly how you are now, but I mean, you going out to look for a shag. Nothing serious, nothing but sex, and you do the cuddling, kissing, etc. with Sherlock?" Stranger: John hummed in thought. "He'd still get jealous. Or, whatever it is he gets, that someone else would have that bit of me that he didn't. He'd probably want to pick out the person for me, or control it in some other way. Watch, maybe." He felt the back of his neck heat up, and he cleared his throat, lifting his eyebrows once. "Now that's a thought." You: "Exhibitionist," Grace said, smirking. "How you two work it out is your business, but I do think you should give it a go. You two are close to being a couple now. All that's stopping him is you being 'not gay' and him being uninterested in sex. You have similar hangups. I know you two don't do emotion well, but this time you should talk." Stranger: John raised his glass, smirking through his embarrassment, in response to the exhibitionist remark and took a sip, setting his drink down and wrapping his hands around it as she continued. "We will talk. Sometime. Tonight might not be best as I'm hoping to get properly pissed before going home, but. I'll do it soon. Maybe I'll get him drunk as well. We've got a few bottles of the good stuff hidden in our kitchen, so drunken confessions of love might be in the cards." You: "Drunk doesn't work, trust me on that," Grace said, shaking her head and taking a sip of her drink. "We'll get pissed, I took a cab and I know you don't drive, so there's no problem with that. But, don't get him drunk, and don't tell him when you're drunk. He won't believe you when he finally sobers up, and you'll be doubtful about his responses too. You two need to be sober for this, so man up Watson." Stranger: ((still typing?)) You: [no, sorry. I'll resend] You: "Drunk doesn't work, trust me on that," Grace said, shaking her head and taking a sip of her drink. "We'll get pissed, I took a cab and I know you don't drive, so there's no problem with that. But, don't get him drunk, and don't tell him when you're drunk. He won't believe you when he finally sobers up, and you'll be doubtful about his responses too. You two need to be sober for this, so man up Watson and tell the wanker how you feel when you're both fully sober." Stranger: ((brb)) Stranger: ((sorry roommate just came back drunk haha give me a few minutes)) You: ((It's fine)) Stranger: John smiled, looking up at her. "Well, that's me told." He scratched at his neck. "I'll tell him tomorrow when you're on your date, yeah? We'll both be manning up, then." He took a sip and licked his lips. "Holmeses. Jesus. We are fucked, aren't we?" You: Grace raised her glass, tilting it towards him with a smirk. "We're utterly fucking insane and the luckiest bastards on the planet. I have Mr. Posh, and you have Mr. Punchline. Our pub nights are going to become 'complain about your Holmes' night." Stranger: John burst out laughing, narrowly avoiding getting beer up his nose. "At least we can trade stories and use them to taunt our respective sibling," he said, grinning. "I'll probably end up making up a few exploits just to taunt Sherlock, though." You: Grace laughed, shaking her head. "God. Trust me, I don't think you'll have to make anything up. Neither will I. Those two are too easily riled when it comes to each other. If I mentioned that Mycroft confessed to being slightly smarter than Sherlock..." Stranger: "He would tear London down," John finished, sipping his beer. "Alright, Grace, here's an important question - how quickly do you think you'll be shagging him?" he asked, smirking at her. You: Grace took a sip of her beer, contemplating that John was right and Sherlock would likely demolish London, before looking up at his question. "Well, if my fantasy involving him and his car comes true, tomorrow after our date. That would be nice, but..." She trails off, shaking her head. Stranger: "But it could be good to take it slow?" John smiled at her, thinking again how screwed they really were. "You should do it all proper. Wait till the second date to put out," he teased, winking at her. "He seems like a true gentleman, so I doubt he'd even accept your advances till then." You: "It could be good to take it slow, and hopping into bed right after the first date is what I did with Tom, and you know how that turned out," Grace sighed. It had taken a genius addict to get her to put it all together, but they divorced soon after. Last she heard, he and his mistress were living together with a little one on the way. Stranger: "For the best then. And, like I said, he doesn't seem like he'd even hint at wanting to have sex with you until you two were together for a while." As he shrugged, his phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, frowning at the text message, and then typing out a response. "He's still bloody on about- Did I tell you he wanted samples? Hair samples, blood samples, skin samples and... various other things. That's what we were arguing about." You: "And you're going to give them to him, /all/ of them," she said, chuckling slightly as she thought about what the 'various other things' could be. "I honestly don't know what Mycroft would do, really. We've been friends for a bit. Well, I think we're friends. I still don't know even half of what there is to know about Mycroft bloody Holmes." She shook her head, smiling sardonically. "Maybe I should stick to giving you relationship advice instead of dating." Stranger: "God help me, I probably will. Not without putting up a good fight first, though. It's good for him to be told 'no' every so often, I think." John let out a put upon sigh. "Maybe /I/ should stick to giving /you/ relationship advice instead of doing whatever it is I'm planning on doing with Sherlock. But if Mycroft's anything like his brother, he might be itching to tell someone everything and is just looking for the right person." You: "I tried to convince him of that a few times, today most recently, and he doesn't seem to agree," Grace said, shrugging. "He isn't as...well, I was going to say that he isn't as dramatic as Sherlock, but that's not right. Mycroft is better at keeping quiet. He's a closed book, whereas Sherlock is happy being at least a partially opened one. Sherlock needs an audience to tell him he's brilliant. Mycroft knows it and gets the recognition from his work. I don't think he needs to tell someone everything." Stranger: John made a face at that, and then finished his beer and made a face at the bottom of the glass. "I think everyone needs someone to tell everything to," he said, feeling the pleasant buzz settling in his skull. "Oi, Lestrade, hurry up," he said, pointing at the third of a glass she had left over. You: Grace rolled her eyes and finished her beer, setting her glass down with a sigh. "Alright, Watson, alright. Don't get your knickers in a twist. It's your turn to buy this round, if you remember." She had a slight buzz, but she knew it would take more than this to get her drunk. Stranger: "My knickers are in a perfectly good state, thank you very much," John said, reaching over to ruffle her hair before heading to the bar. He came back with their third beers. "Alright. Round three. Serious question time." He slid her drink toward her and leaned forward, keeping eye contact. "Would you rather shag Sally or Anderson?" You: Grace batted his hand away, smoothing out her hair while he went to get the beers. She had just taken a drink and nearly inhaled her beer at his 'serious' question, laughing fit to burst. "Oh God. I can't say neither? Anderson's hardly a prize, and he's a cheat to boot, and Sally was his mistress." [I'm sorry, I have to go. Do you do continuations?] Stranger: ((I try to but sometimes get really busy and can't :/ I don't use an email for it though. would it be possible to trade tumblr urls or something and then meet back here for it sometime we're both free?)) You: [That works for me :) I usually end up either using tumblr or e-mail when I'm free to meet back here. I'm beargirl1393.tumblr.com] You: [did that go through?] Stranger: ((yeah, sorry! I actually think I follow you already, which makes me feel awful cause i'm pretty sure it was from another rp that i was too busy to keep up with. i'm theeleganteuropeanwoman on tumblr)) You: [I follow you too. It was from a fem Sherstrade rp that we did awhile ago. You don't have to feel awful. We can always pick up either of them when you have the time. :) ] Stranger: ((aww thanks :) sounds good! well, have a good night, and I'll probably see you on tumblr soon! :) )) You: [Sounds good to me too. Good night, and see you on tumblr :) ] Stranger: ((bye! :) )) Stranger has disconnected. http://logs.omegle.com/e7c1253 You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like theeleganteuropeanwoman. Stranger: hey! You: hi! Stranger: alright I think it's my turn to respond, so I'll just start from there! You: works for me. do you need me to resend my last reply? Stranger: sure, if you don't mind! You: I don't mind. You: Grace batted his hand away, smoothing out her hair while he went to get the beers. She had just taken a drink and nearly inhaled her beer at his 'serious' question, laughing fit to burst. "Oh God. I can't say neither? Anderson's hardly a prize, and he's a cheat to boot, and Sally was his mistress." Stranger: "Sally's definitely more attractive, though," John said, settling back into the booth. "If you /had/ to choose one, though?" He grinned. You: "If I had to choose?" Grace said, smirking as she thought. She decided to be a bit evil and tease John a bit. "Well, I know Sally's a decent shag, so I'd choose her for old time's sake." Stranger: John raised his eyebrows. "I suppose I cant fault you for that," he said, taking a small sip, figuring he should probably slow down, and trying not to imagine the two of them. "Maybe when you're with Mycroft, tell him a bit about your fantasies to shag Donovan. That could get him interested," he teased. You: Grace rolled her eyes. "It's not a fantasy to shag her. Been there, done that. Before she got with Anderson but after my husband," she clarified, knowing that John was likely trying very hard not to imagine the two of them together. "It wasn't a relationship, work and play don't mix well together for the most part." Stranger: "Christ, you're serious?" he asked, eyes going wide and leaning forward on the table. "I mean, I didn't know you were-" John narrowed his eyes. "Alright, I can't tell if you're winding me up or not," he said, leaning his head on a hand. You: "And that, John, is why you should pace yourself," Grace said, smirking and leaning back in her seat as she took a sip of her beer. "Yes, I have had sex with women before, no, Sally wasn't one of them." Stranger: John leaned back again, pointing at her. "I am perfectly capable of holding my drink, thank you." As if to prove the point he picked up his beer and had another sip. "Besides, the conversation warranted alcohol. So, am I going to get to hear any stories of these mysterious women you've shagged?" You: Grace chuckled. "I know you can hold your drink, we've done this before. I also know how much you can drink before you're drunk, and vice versa. Hm, depends on the type of stories you want, and you'd have to tell me a few stories in return." Stranger: John nodded, conceding the point, their pub outings were a fairly regular occurrence. He pursed his lips, considering. "Well. What sort of stories would you want to hear? I've shagged plenty of women in my day," he said, smiling easily. You: Grace considered, then shrugged. "Surprise me. Nothing graphic though. I'm not drunk enough to want to describe sex at the moment. I've been with plenty of men and a fair amount of women too. The stories can be about the person themselves, if you want, or anything really." Stranger: ((brb)) You: [Okay] Stranger: "Huh. I'll save asking for the sex stories for a few more rounds in," John joked. "Most embarrassing sex story?" He asked, hesitating before adding, "You know, I've slept with a few men before, if you want some of those stories in return. I'm feeling generous." You: "I have a few embarrassing sex stories," Grace said, chuckling. "And you don't have to describe your experiences with men unless you want to. You're starting though, regardless of what kind of story you're telling." Stranger: ((ahh sorry, friends showed up in my room looking for cake haha. i'll be back in a few!)) You: [Okay] Stranger: John hummed. "Right. Embarrassing stories." He looked up, trying to decide the best one. "My second time with a girl, I was extremely pissed and thought it was a good idea to attempt to shag her on my sofa. I was 17 at the time, I should add. I was too drunk to remember that my mum was home. So that was a very short lived shag," he said, chuckling, looking down. You: Grace shook her head. "I'll save the first time my parents caught me for later," she said, considering. "When I was in my first year of Uni, my boyfriend and I would go to his room to shag a lot, because his roommate had evening classes. We usually checked to make sure the room was empty, but we were horny and didn't bother this one time. We were in the middle of it when there was this moan that didn't belong to either of us. Turns out his roommate had been in the bathroom, and he was jacking off to the sound of the two of us doing it." Stranger: John laughed around his sip of beer, nearly spitting it out. "God, that's awful," he said, wiping his mouth. "I don't think that's ever happened to me. Must have been even worse for your boyfriend continuing to live with his roommate after that," he said, attempting to smile sympathetically. You: Grace chuckled. "His roommate was tomato red, my boyfriend was mortified too, I'm laying on the bed laughing so hard that I nearly rolled right off. I don't know how the two of them managed to get along after that, he never said. I was embarrassed, sure, but their /faces/..." Stranger: "I can only imagine. I've had enough experience being walked in while wanking, but at least it was never over my roommate." He laughed again, and then wrinkled his nose a bit. "I swear, Sherlock enjoys annoying me when he knows I'm getting off. I mean, he certainly makes a habit of it, anyway." You: "Oh God," Grace groaned, resting her head in her hand. "Don't get me started there. You know how I knew him through the drugs and rehab, etc. Well, after he relapsed, he stayed with me for a bit, until he could find a place. That's when I learned about the cuddling, actually." Stranger: John smiled fondly. "I think he just likes being the center of attention. Can't have you thinking of anything other than him. The cuddling thing is sweet, though," he said, looking down at his drink, still smiling. You: "He's like a cat sometimes," Grace said fondly. "He has bad days, really bad migraines that medicine does fuck all for, so if he had one of those I'd run my fingers through his hair, massage his head. He was grateful in his own snarky way." You: [did mine go through?] Stranger: ((yeah i'm so sorry! my mom called and i didn't have the chance to say something. ahh sorry i'm being so slow to respond tonight!)) You: [It's fine. My internet shorted out for a minute, so I wanted to make sure I didn't lose you.] Stranger: "Oh, yeah. He's definitely fond of the head rub," John mused, taking a small sip of his drink. "I don't mind doing that for him, so it tends to happen often." You: Grace smiled. "I only did it for him once in awhile. He didn't ask unless it was really bad. Sherlock...he was just starting to trust me back then. It took a few years, nothing like what happened with you two." Stranger: John snorted. "The bastard doesn't even ask anymore. Just lays down in my lap if I'm sitting on the sofa. Of course, he doesn't say anything. Just expects me to do it. Which I do." He swirled the drink around in his glass, thinking of the first night they met, of how they instantly connected. "Fuck, I am in deep, aren't I?" You: "You are in very deep," Grace agreed, taking a sip of her drink, amusement dancing in her eyes. "You know, the first time I saw you two...I wondered who you were, that you were able to charm your way into Sherlock's life that quick. I noticed a few quick things, war hero, doctor, etc. It wasn't until the end of The Study in Pink that I figured it out." Stranger: "You figured us out, have you?" John asked, resting a his cheek on his palm, starting to feel the effects of the pint he was working his way through. "Feel free to enlighten me on that, as I've no bloody clue anymore." You: "You want me to tell you how your relationship works?" Grace asked, amused. "Alright, I'll give it my best shot, shall I? I said I figured most of it out after the Pink case. Off the record, I know exactly who killed the cabbie." Stranger: John feigned a look of innocence. "I don't know what you're trying to imply. I heard it was a vigilante. Bloody good shot," he added, lips twitching into a slight smirk. You: "Oh aye, a crack shot, ex-military," Grace said blandly. "Short, blonde hair with some grey, has a fondness for awful Christmas jumpers and tea." Stranger: "Seems like a fantastic bloke," John said, raising his glass up before taking another sip. "When'd you figure that out, then? Stranger: *?" he asked. You: "He's a good mate," Grace chuckled, shaking her head, before becoming more serious. "Like I said John, I'd noticed you were military when you showed up at the crime scene with Jennifer Wilson. When you were at the crime scene with the cabbie too...that was the first thing, but it was just a vague suspicion then." Stranger: John nodded, stretching out his legs and pressing them to the end of the booth across from him, next to Grace. "Probably should have gone home. I wanted to make sure Sherlock was alright, though." He shrugged. "Thank you. For not, you know. Doing anything about it." You: "I didn't have any evidence," Grace said, shrugging and stretching her legs on the booth beside John, crossing one ankle over the other. "That, actually, was the first thing that I pegged as odd specifically between you two. You stuck around to make sure he was okay, instead of taking the safer option and going home. That's more than looking after a flatmate. That's best friend/partner material." Stranger: "Still, you could've gotten me for it if you wanted to, I'm sure." John tipped his foot sideways, hitting Grace's hip with his toe. "And I think you've just told me that I'm a good boyfriend. Should I be worried you're jealous?" He asked, grin faltering slightly as he continued, "Or maybe I should be worried that I'm not even objecting to that." You: Grace shook her head. "I'm not jealous, I'm bloody well glad that Sherlock has someone like you there for him." She sighed, running her hand through her hair. "John, you don't have to listen to anything I've said. It's all true, of course, but it's none of my business to try to tell you what to do with Sherlock. Do I think that, if you to talk about it and come to terms with what you'd want from a relationship, that you two would be good together? Hell yeah. Does that mean you have to listen to me? No." Stranger: "I know, I know," John said, before letting out a long sigh. "I love him, you know? I want something to work out. Not sure what, but it could work. Whatever it is we would have happen between us." He pushed a hand through his hair, an automatic gesture that Sherlock would always point out as an obvious tell of his. "It's all just a bit of mess right now." You: [Sorry, I have a question. Have you seen the new season yet? I have two possible replies to this, but one has spoilers for the last episode of season three, and I don't want to ruin it if you haven't seen it.] Stranger: ((I have, yeah! spoil away :) )) You: [Okay :) For this to be a bit less depressing for John, I'm going to have it that Mary faked the pregnancy, because I don't want her to die, but I wouldn't know why John wouldn't be raising the baby if they were together.] You: "Sherlock coming back from the dead, your wife turning out to be an assassin?" Grace asked. That wasn't even counting the fact that Mary had faked the pregnancy and John had finally found out who she was working for... "More than a bit of a mess, yeah. And that's without adding the whole 'you're not usually into blokes and Sherlock doesn't want to shag anybody' aspect." Stranger: "Oh, yeah but other than that, everything's perfect," he said, taking a drink and resting his head on the table mournfully. "You're lucky. You've got a nice date with a - fairly creepy, dangerous, but also - nice, man. I've got a bizarre, asexual flatmate that sets something on fire on a daily basis." You: "A bizarre, asexual flatmate who is absolutely mad over you," she pointed out. "And my 'date' with Mycroft is for coffee. He said he hoped it was a date, rather than just getting coffee together, so that's a good sign, but honestly? I've known Mycroft almost as long as I've known Sherlock, and I know very little about him. He plays things very close to the vest. I have no idea how this will pan out." Stranger: John looked up at her, head still on the table. "I bet he's a good shag though. He's definitely got some power complex, probably demanding. Seems to have something bottled up and I bet it is all that sexual frustration over you," he said, only half joking. " You: Grace shrugged, leaning back and folding her arms over her chest. "The bloke surrounds himself with gorgeous women, do you honestly think he had a problem getting rid of sexual frustration? Just look at...I'm not sure what name she gave you, but she's his assistant most of the time. Anthea." Stranger: John sat up, scratching his neck. "I got the same name, I think. I've got on good authority that Anthea is both out of my league, and dating a woman, currently, which Sherlock claims she only dates. I'm not entirely she he was being honest on that one, but I doubt you have to worry about her, anyway." You: "I know she dates women, I found that out on my first kidnapping," Grace said, rolling her eyes. "I was bored and annoyed at being kidnapped, so I flirted with her, and she was flirting back. I remember Mycroft looking surprised as anything to see me laughing when I got out of the car. It was hilarious. I don't know if she only dates women, but she has a clear preference." Stranger: "You could always go for her, if the Mycroft thing doesn't work out," John suggested. "I can't believe I never knew you played for both teams, Lestrade. So do you like both equally, or do you have a preference?" You: "She's currently dating a woman named Anne," Grace supplied. "Knowing Sherlock as long as I have, I've been kidnapped a few times, and Anthea and I usually talk a bit. She's a neonatal nurse, and Anthea is currently considering proposing. As to the second question, I don't have a preference, really. It's more about what the person's like." Stranger: John nodded. "Huh, I could never even get a word out of her. Makes sense, though, what you said. And I mean, you could always offer to be a mistress," he teased, sipping his drink. "I've always thought that seemed like fun, hypothetically. The dangerous part of it, and such." You: Grace wrinkled her nose at the mention of being a mistress. "Not a chance." She knew John was joking, but she didn't have the time or patience for cheaters. She never had, and everything with her ex had sealed it. She shook her head to get rid of that thought, before giving John a curious look. "What seemed like fun?" Stranger: "The mistress bit. I wouldn't- I mean." John frowned. "Sorry, that's not, well, I shouldn't have said that. I wouldn't ever cheat, or willingly help someone cheat. I'm just tipsy enough to sound like an utter arse, apparently." You: Grace sighed. "Sorry, sorry. I'm oversensitive, I guess. I never really liked adulterers, which is half of the reason I don't stop Sherlock from insulting Anderson, and my ex hammered home my dislike of it, I just...I shouldn't take it so personally. I'm just tipsy enough to take these things personally, apparently." Stranger: John chuckled dryly. "Seems like an excuse to go for the next round," he said, looking at his drink, though he still had a good third left. "You buy the next round, I'll pay for chips?" You: Grace looked at her drink, she still had a bit more left than John did. "I bought the two rounds before this. You can buy the next one and I'll get the chips. I can't be drinking too much more tonight anyway." Stranger: "You're not driving, are you? Or just worried about a hangover?" John asked, raising an eyebrow at her and picking up his drink, tipping it back and taking a big sip from it. You: "I took a cab, don't worry," Grace said, waving that off. "I have to be at work early tomorrow. Busy work, covering for someone else's shift, but I hate doing paperwork while fighting a hangover. You: ." Stranger: John took a breath and then chugged the rest of his drink. "Got the day off tomorrow," he said, grinning as he wiped the foam off his lip. "So I am certainly not finished. I'm just sad I won't get you drunk enough for you to tell me about sex with your girlfriends," he joked, kicking her leg lightly. You: Grace rolled her eyes, shaking her head and picking up her beer to drain the rest of it. She felt the pleasant buzz intensifying, but she was still only vaguely tipsy at this point. "Well you can drink as much as you want. I'll tell you about sex with my girlfriends another time." Stranger: "You don't have to, you know. I'm not trying to object you, or anything." John wrinkled his nose for a moment. "Objectify. That's the word I was looking for. But yeah, I'm only joking. Though if you ever want to volunteer any of that information, I won't stop you." He winked. You: "Of course you won't object," Grace said teasingly. "You'd have wank fodder for months from some of my stories. I know you don't want to objectify me or anything. I wouldn't have told you anything if I thought you would. I kneed Anderson in a very vulnerable place when he made an inappropriate suggestion." Stranger: "Good for you. Tell Sherlock that and he'll be nice to you for a day, maybe. And what is in my masturbatory fantasies is none of your business," John said, standing up. "Alright, give me a few quid for the chips. Don't think you're getting out of paying for them." You: Grace rolled her eyes, rummaging for a moment before passing over the money for the chips. "Oh, you'd tell me if I asked, once you're drunk enough, and I'd do the same. And Sherlock was there, he laughed so hard he cried." Stranger: John pocketed the money and laughed. "I bet he did. And one night we'll have to find out how drunk 'drunk enough' is, because now I am morbidly curious what it is you think about," he said as he walked away, returning in five minutes, juggling the two pints, and the order of chips. He plopped em on the table, and drenched them in vinegar, knowing Grace liked them the same way. You: Grace just grinned, waving him off. "You'll find out one night Watson. Not quite sure when, but you will. It might have changed again by that point," she said calmly. She waited until he had covered the chips in vinegar before taking one, savoring the taste. Sometimes pub food was the best thing at the end of a long, tiring day. Pub food and messing with John, she amended. Stranger: "I suppose that makes sense." John grinned as well, popping one in his mouth. "I could always ask Sherlock to deduce them for me, you know," he teased, tilting his head to the side. "I bet he already has, actually. What if I did? Would you be mad?" You: Grace shrugged. "Sherlock deduced them, he and I have had this conversation before. You mentioned him bugging you when you were having a wank? Well, let's just say Sherlock never goes into my room without knocking first. And no, I wouldn't be mad. I'd wonder why you care so much, but no, I wouldn't be mad." Stranger: "He's hinted a few things to me, so." John picked up another chip and pointed it at her. "In my defense, I didn't ask. So, sorry about that." He stuffed the chip in his mouth, chasing it with a sip of beer. "Ever think we'd be a good couple?" You: Grace considered that, munching thoughtfully on a chip and taking a sip of her beer. "When I first met you, I thought you'd be a good shag. Then, when we were friends, I considered dating you, but...In one way, we'd be a good couple, but in another we wouldn't be." Stranger: John nodded. He'd thought just about the same exact thing. He'd even gotten so far as to consider asking her out, but Sherlock discouraged it before he could make a fool of himself. "What's the way we wouldn't be a good couple?" he drummed his fingers on the glass of his beer, keeping a random rhythm. You: "You know me well enough to not be bothered if I talk about a case during a date, or be put off by my work schedule," Grace said, resting her chin in her hand, propping her elbow on the table. "We've got enough in common that we'd be a good match, even though you have rubbish taste in football." Stranger: "My taste in football is much better than yours," John scoffed, needing a sip of beer after that. "Not to mention that I bet we'd be great in bed together if we ever actually gave it a shot. But you're avoiding my question, Grace. Why do you think we'd be bad?" You: "Your taste in football is rubbish," Grace retorted, taking another chip. "And we'd be fantastic in bed." She sighed, sitting up enough to take a drink of her beer before resuming her former position. "There's the simple answer and the more complex answer, which is really just an elaboration of the simple one. The simple answer is, I'm not Sherlock Holmes. I never could be. Just like you could never be Mycroft. I was sold on him a long time ago, just like you were sold on Sherlock. Denying it and all that is all well and good, but...it wouldn't be bad, really, but we'd both want our respective Holmes." Stranger: John sipped his beer while she spoke, putting it back on the table when she was finished. "Holmes men are something. It's awful. They're nearly hypnotic," he sighed, wistful, starting to get to the point of drunk that was as far as he should go if he wanted to get home and not do anything stupid. He lifted an eyebrow and glanced at Grace. "And don't tell either one I said that, or I'll no doubt be regretting it." You: "The younger Holmes would be smug, the older one would plot how to use it against you," Grace agreed, shaking her head. "And me too, since I agree with you, they are pretty hypnotic." She wasn't drunk, not yet. She still had half of her fourth beer on the table, and she had a remarkably high tolerance. She was tipsy, but not enough to do anything rash. Stranger: "Sherlock's smug enough," John said, enjoying the easiness of speaking that came with being tipsy. "Don't need to give him another thing to get a big head about. Although me telling him I sort of fancy him is definitely not going to help that. And you going out with Mycroft is not going to make him any less of an interfering, plotting, twat, I fear." You: "Remember when I said no telling Sherlock important things when either of you aren't 100% sober?" Grace asked. "That means no telling him you fancy him until at least tomorrow morning, because he'll just panic if you tell him drunk and I'll be soothing a panicky consulting detective. And I have no idea what me going out with Mycroft will do to him." Stranger: "Honestly, I'm probably going to go home, have a shower, and go to bed. With any luck Sherlock will have finally fallen asleep. He hasn't slept in three days now, I think." John reached his arms out, groaning slightly as he stretched. "You'll have to keep me updated on what happens with Mycroft. All the juicy details on the elder Holmes. Or anything that's disturbing enough to use against Sherlock." You: "Oh God, I'll never be able to call him in on another case, will I?" Grace groaned. She slipped her feet off the booth. "I think after I finish my beer and you finish your chips, I'm going to call it a night." She did have to be up early tomorrow, and it was a nice enough night that she could walk home. It wasn't that far, heels or no, so she would enjoy the walk. "I'll likely keep you posted, if you do the same for me with you and Sherlock's relationship." Stranger: John laughed and shook his head at himself. "I promise. It is going to be something, I'm sure." He licked some vinegar off his lips and tapped his foot against Grace's under the table. "Thank you for helping to convince me I'm not absolutely stupid for possibly wanting a relationship with Sherlock Holmes." You: Grace grinned, eating another chip and taking a sip of her beer. "Thank you for making me see that I'm not completely mad for wanting to ask out Mycroft Holmes. If it helps, I really do think you and Sherlock will be good together, however you work it out." Stranger: ((brb)) You: [Okay] Stranger: John shifted in his seat and sat up straighter. "It does help a bit, yeah. Cheers." He smirked, watching her. "Who knows, maybe he will end up picking out women for me to shag in front of him, like I mentioned before, and it'll appeal to my inner exhibitionist, as you pointed out. I mean, the next time you see me, I could be glowing from all the strange sex I am having." You: Grace shook her head. "The next time you see me, I'll likely be neck deep in a new murder, ready to strangle Sherlock with his scarf for not cooperating. That's the realistic outlook. My other option is that Mycroft and I hit it off, we actually like each other, have sex at some point, and Sherlock groans in agony next time he sees me because he'll know I shagged his brother." Stranger: "As much as I'm rooting for your sex life, I don't want to deal with the tantrum Sherlock's going to throw," John said, sighing. "You're probably right, though. Hopefully for you the murder won't be too crazy and you'll have it solved, and hopefully for my sanity and Sherlock's boredom it will be some mysterious puzzle for him to solve." He lifted his glass to her, tipping it slightly, and then bringing it toward him to have a sip. You: "As long as we catch whoever it is before they cause too much damage, it can be very mysterious," Grace said. She ate a few more chips, interspersed with sips of her drink. Going home and going to bed sounded like a good idea. "I still think we're going to end up ranting about our respective Holmes on these pub nights from now on." You: [brb] Stranger: ((okay!)) John let out a short laugh. "That is more than likely. We'll end up trying to one up each other with crazy stories." He had another drink. "For what my opinion's worth, there's something about Mycroft that you complement. I think it'll work between the two of you." You: "I don't know if it'll work, but thanks for the compliment," Grace said, smiling. "You already know what I think of you and Sherlock, seeing as I've been playing matchmaker basically for the past however long we've been here and through text before that." Stranger: "And you've been dropping not so subtle hints every so often," John added, smiling. "It's fine. It'll all work out, I'm sure. We should probably both head out at some point soon, though." You: Grace nodded, finishing the rest of her beer and gesturing at the few remaining chips. "Finish those up and I'll pour you into a cab before heading home," she said, teasing. Sherlock could hail a cab without effort, and Grace could usually get one fairly easily, but John seemed to never be able to get a cab to stop. Stranger: John rolled his eyes - but didn't protest - and obligingly took the last three chips and shoved them all in his mouth. After swallowing, he stood to get up. "Do this again soon to catch up, if not over text, yeah?" You: Grace nodded, standing up too and shrugging into her coat. "Sure. Same premise as always. You need to get away from Sherlock before you murder him, and I need a break from work. And I'll text you tomorrow after my date." Stranger: "You better." John pulled on his jacket and clapped her on the shoulder. "I'll buy the third round," he offered, smiling, leading toward the door. You: Grace chuckled, waving down a cab for John once they were outside. "And I'll get the first two and the chips. We'll negotiate after that." Stranger: ((this is a fairly good stopping point, so I should probably head off to sleep about now! we could always continue, after their respective conversations/dates, have them catch up again, if you'd like! :) )) You: ((Works for me :) I should probably be going to bed too. I'd like to continue again at some point though if you do. Have a good night :) ] Stranger: ((definitely! you too :) sleep well!)) You: [You too :) ] Stranger has disconnected. http://logs.omegle.com/04c7ee4 You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like theeleganteuropeanwoman. Stranger: ((hi! :) )) You: [Hi :) ] Stranger: ((would you mind sending me the log?)) You: [Sure. Here it is: http://logs.omegle.com/04c7ee4 ] You: [Also, I think we were going to continue after Grace's date and John's conversation with Sherlock, so we can start there if you want, or we can do something else.] Stranger: ((that'd be perfect! want to start with them meeting at the pub again? or want to do a different location this time?)) You: [We can start with them meeting at the pub again if you want, or out to have coffee or dinner somewhere even. Do you want to start?] Stranger: ((Yeah sure! maybe out for coffee/lunch?)) You: [That works for me :) ] Stranger: John was already sitting at a table, with two sandwiches in front of him when he saw Grace walk in. He waved her over. "Took the liberty of getting one for you while I was up there," he said, pushing one of the sandwiches toward the seat she was about to take. "So tell me about that date." You: Grace was coming straight from work (she usually ended up meeting John on their lunch breaks on the rare opportunities that they managed to get away), and she wasn't surprised that he had already ordered for her. She grinned, shaking her head and taking a bite of her sandwich. "Only if you'll tell me about your conversation with Sherlock." Stranger: John was sure he blushed slightly, but shook his head. "I bought the food, you're indebted to me, Lestrade," he teased, and leaned forward as he took a bite, then chased it with a sip of his ice coffee. He wasn't sure what she'd wanted for a drink, so he'd bought her the same thing he'd gotten for himself. "So you first." You: Grace rolled her eyes, smirking at his blush. "Oi, I bought lunch last time we did this, so I count this as returning that debt." She took a sip of the iced coffee John ordered, wrinkling her nose then shrugging. Today was a day filled with paperwork, so she'd need all of the caffeine she could get. "Well, there was a black car waiting for me outside the Yard when I left work that day." Stranger: "Was he actually in it, or was it just one of his henchmen come to deliver you to their boss?" John asked, studiously ignoring her smirk and leaning an elbow on the table. "And where exactly were you delivered to? His office, or some abandoned warehouse somewhere?" You: "Well, I got off of work at noon, and we weren't supposed to be meeting until twelve-thirty, so I wasn't all that surprised that Anthea was the one in the car instead of him," Grace replied. "I think she likes that name. It's close enough to her real one, but still different. Anyway. We drove around and talked for a bit, killing time until Mycroft got out of his meeting, and when they finally dropped me off at the cafe, Mycroft was waiting by the door for me." Stranger: John raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know she even knew how to have conversations, Christ. Did she look up from her phone at all? And how did the actual bloody date go?" he asked, nudging her foot under the table. "Your text afterward was far too vague to get a good idea from." You: "Of course she did," Grace said, mystified. "She always looks at me when we talk, unless she's working from her phone. Granted, most of the time we're tease flirting, so maybe that's why." She nudged him back. "I'm getting there. You could ask exactly what you want to know, it'd be easier than me trying to guess. And my text was deliberately vague." Stranger has disconnected. http://logs.omegle.com/409402a You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like theeleganteuropeanwoman. You: [Hi again :) ] Stranger: ((hey! sorry I didn't think to check my inbox sooner! I left off on "your last text was far too vague..." and didn't see what you sent in reply)) You: [I'll resend my last reply.] You: "Of course she did," Grace said, mystified. "She always looks at me when we talk, unless she's working from her phone. Granted, most of the time we're tease flirting, so maybe that's why." She nudged him back. "I'm getting there. You could ask exactly what you want to know, it'd be easier than me trying to guess. And my text was deliberately vague." Stranger: John rolled his eyes at her. "God only knows why I still put up with you," he teased, shaking his head. "What was Mycroft like? Did he tell you any state secrets? And do you have another date with him?" He picked up his sandwich and had another bite, watching her expectantly. You: "Same reason I put up with you," Grace quipped, taking another bite of her sandwich and a sip of her iced coffee before answering John's questions. "I didn't ask about state secrets, no need to mix personal and professional time this early on. Mycroft was...well, he was Mycroft. Elegant, handsome, powerful, brilliant...I could go on, of course. He has a very dry wit, when he's not working and he's comfortable with you." Stranger: He grinned as he swallowed. "Sounds like you're smitten already. Have you seen him again since, or are you planning to at least?" he asked, wiping his hands on a napkin. You: She smiled. "I am smitten, have been for awhile now. I haven't seen him since, we've both been working a lot, but we have plans to go to a concert in a few days." Stranger: "Ooh. Impressive." John nodded. "I'm really glad it worked out for you. You definitely deserve that bit of good in your life," he said, smiling kindly at her, but asking more questions to keep her talking. "What sort of concert is he taking you to?" You: "Some sort of classical music," Grace said, trying and failing to remember exactly what Mycroft had told her about it. "It's the London Symphony Orchestra, that much I do know. I would have suggested a play or musical, but you know how much he /enjoyed/ taking his parents to Les Mis." Stranger: Laughing, he picked up his drink. "I do, unfortunately. He came over just to have one of his passive aggressive arguments with Sherlock about it. I think they just sat and stared at each other for an hour. Christ." You: She chuckled, sipping at her coffee. "Dear God, do you think that we'll be pulled into those arguments now? Regardless, he's not big on musicals or plays, but I know he likes classical music, so we're doing that." Stranger: "I vote when that happens, you and I just slip out and go get a drink," John said, shrugging. "And yeah, that sounds like it'll be fun. Think you'll end up staying at his that night?" he asked, smirking slightly. Stranger: ((brb a few minutes, making oatmeal haha)) You: "We'll have them following us to the pub," Grace pointed out, laughing softly at the thought. She couldn't really imagine either Holmes in a pub, although Sherlock had shown up to drag her away for a case he wanted her to take before. She smirked at John's question, but shrugged. "I don't know, honestly. He didn't so much as hint at it." You: [okay, take your time :) ] Stranger: "Yeah you're probably right. So no kiss, then?" John asked, taking another bite of his sandwich, finishing off the first half. You: Grace shook her head, taking another bite of her sandwich pensively. "No. We held hands, a bit. And I kissed his cheek when he dropped me off at my flat, but that's it." Stranger: John shrugged. "Could be worse. The hand holding's nice at least. But I'm still really curious to know how he is in bed," he said, shaking his head, and chuckling. "I'm betting he's either amazing, best shag you've ever had, or never slept with anyone before," he added, looking up in thought. You: Grace arched an eyebrow. "Why on Earth would you care whether Mycroft's a brilliant shag or not?" she asked curiously. Granted, they did talk about their sex lives quite a lot, but she had thought he wouldn't want to know much once she got to that stage with Mycroft. "I don't know about sex, but I don't think he's had many relationships." Stranger: John hummed, keeping himself from saying 'for comparison's sake,' and instead simply shrugging. "Just curiosity. I'm allowed to wonder about the elder Holmes, am I not?" he said, looking down at his sandwich. You: Grace gave him a skeptical look but didn't comment otherwise, finishing off the first half of her sandwich. "I don't know if he's a virgin or not, that's not exactly the thing to ask on the first date. I honestly don't think he's ever had a relationship before, but that doesn't mean anything about his sex life." Stranger: John shrugged again. "It doesn't matter anyway." He cleared his throat and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Like I said, though, I'm glad you're happy with him so far. As long as he treats you well, I'm happy." You: "He's been a perfect gentleman," Grace said, leaning back in her chair and sipping her iced coffee. Once you got used to it, it wasn't so bad. "Of course, I wouldn't expect anything less from Mycroft Holmes, in all honesty." Stranger: "Neither would I," John agreed, sipping his coffee. "Figured we could use the caffeine," he said, after he swallowed, looking at it. "Long day for you today?" You: Grace nodded, sighing and running her fingers through her grey hair. "Paperwork, tons of it. That's the only reason I'm resisting the promotion, in all honesty. I'd have to handle more paperwork and less actual cases." Stranger: John made a face at that. "I can't see you at a desk job. You and Sherlock are similar like that, I think. Both need to be doing something to feel useful," he said, mostly just thinking aloud. "Someone else going to take that promotion, then?" You: Grace shrugged, taking a bite of the second half of her sandwich. "I don't know. Meadows has been pushing for me to take over his job when he retires, but being a DCI is too much desk work for me. You're right, I need to feel useful, and paperwork doesn't really do that for me." Stranger: "I know what you mean. I go nuts when I'm only working at the clinic too long, and that's even hands on work in the first place." He chuckled. "Sherlock's been going mad cause he's not had a case he deems interesting enough recently. I think he's somehow convinced that it's your fault, too." You: She rolled her eyes. "It's always my fault when there are no interesting murders, apparently. I've had more rants about that than you could imagine, honestly. Don't worry, I have a feeling that you and your madman will be running around London chasing murderers soon. It's been too quiet lately, it never stays like that for long." Stranger: "Mm, yeah, unfortunately," he raised an eyebrow, "or, I suppose, fortunately for Sherlock. He's been, er, finding other things to keep him busy, though," John said, smirking slightly to himself. You: Grace arched an eyebrow. "Convinced your asexual flatmate that you aren't entirely straight?" she asked, amused. "Did you have him help you pick out someone to shag? I remember you turning red when we discussed your exhibitionist thoughts." You: [I actually have to go for now, sorry :( It's one in the morning here, and I have to be up early. Would you like to continue another time?] Stranger: ((yeah definitely! I've been pretty busy but hopefully sometime soon we'll both have the chance to do this again :) sleep well!)) You: [Hopefully we will :) Message me when you have the time, and we'll meet up again. Night!] Stranger: ((definitely! talk to you soon :) )) Stranger has disconnected. http://logs.omegle.com/fceca8b

#femlock #fem greg #greg lestrade #john watson #Mycroft Holmes #Sherlock Holmes #Mystrade #johnlock #asexual sherlock #sherlock BBC #john and greg friendship

#trans!Greg #transgender #Mycroft Holmes #Mystrade #greg lestrade #sherlock BBC

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi! You both like translock, sherstrade, and mystrade. Stranger: The needles were not for cocaine, I assure you, Inspector. That sort of drug habit was reserved for my brother. M [FTM] You: That doesn't make me feel much better Mycroft. There are other illegal intravenous drugs. -GL Stranger: It isn't heroin, either. M Stranger: [assuming Mycroft had taken T as a young adult and stopped relatively early to avoid side effects like male-pattern baldness, excess body hair, and a voice any deeper than his was already, I'd place Mycroft in his mid-to-late twenties here.] You: [Okay. Is this established Mystrade, or are they just friends at this point?] Stranger: [friends, I think. If you'd like it to be established, that's fine too.] You: [Friends is fine] You: Then what is it? I had to take the needles Mycroft, especially with Sherlock's problems...-GL Stranger: [delayed] Return them immediately. I had hoped to never need to explain this to you, but if I must I would rather do it in person. M You: [delayed] Do you promise that they aren't for any sort of illegal drugs? -GL Stranger: They were procured by means you might consider dubious but they are technically legal. M You: That...doesn't make me feel much better Myc. My shift's almost over, I'll bring them by after that? -GL Stranger: That's fine. M Stranger: Thank you. M You: You're welcome, I guess. -GL Stranger: [paragraphs?] You: [Sure] Stranger: [brief disclaimer: I am not transitioning nor have I ever transitioned from female to male, so anything I say about T or binding or surgery is really just from things I've seen or read. Apologies for any glaring inaccuracies] Stranger: Mycroft sat in his chair with the front legs pushed up. This precarious leaning had earned him many dirty looks throughout his life, from his mother, from schoolteachers and, lately, from Anthea. He ran a long-fingered hand through his rusty hair and sighed. What would Lestrade think when Mycroft confessed? Any lie he told wouldn't be accepted, obviously, since even if Mycroft could fib flawlessly Lestrade seemed to always penetrate his facades. You: Greg ran a hand through his brown hair (already showing hints of silvering, as the men in his family tended to go grey early), and sighed. He wasn't sure what to do, in all honesty. He believed Mycroft that the needles weren't for use for illegal drugs, and while he was relieved he was also confused. Why would Mycroft have the needles in the first place if it wasn't because of drugs? He knew the other man didn't have diabetes, so they couldn't have been for insulin. He gathered up the needles he had confiscated when he visited his friend the day before, pocketing them and heading for Mycroft's house as soon as his shift ended. Stranger: Mycroft eyed the CCTV footage playing across his laptop. As a requirement of his job, he always had to keep one eye open, even at home in his own flat. He tapped his fingers anxiously against the wood of his desk before rising, pacing aimlessly for a minute, and deciding to put the kettle on. You: Greg knew that Mycroft likely knew he was there, tracking him through the CCTV cameras as he walked from NSY to Mycroft's flat. He was used to it by now, knowing that it was a consequence of his friend's job (that he still knew little to nothing about). He knocked on the door, rocking on his heels while he waited for Mycroft to answer You: *answer. Stranger: Mycroft heard the knock on the door and left the kettle, checking his appearance in the hall mirror before pulling the door open. "Good evening, Detective Inspector," he said, "do come in." You: Greg nodded, stepping inside and hanging up his coat. "I just got the promotion last week, and I haven't had time to talk to you since. I don't even want to know how you found out." Stranger: Mycroft smiled wryly. "Then I won't tell you. Tea?" He offered, moving to the kitchen. You: Greg grinned. "Probably for the best. I don't want to think too much about how much power you have with that 'minor' government position. Tea sounds good though." Stranger: Mycroft prepared the tea with far too much sugar, just as Lestrade liked it, and splashed a bit of skim milk in his own. The diet was going well, after all. "Not nearly as much as you think, Lestrade. I am certainly not Prime Minister, or M. You, on the other hand, are ascending the ranks rather quickly." He brushed his hand companionably over Lestrade's shoulder as he set the tea down on the table. "Congratulations." You: "I thought you didn't like Bond films?" Greg asked, chuckling as he sat down and accepted the tea. "Just wait, you'll be advising both the Prime Minister and M by the time the year's out, even if no one is allowed to know that." He took a sip of his tea. "Thanks. I didn't actually expect the promotion. Meadows was retiring, and he thought I was a good fit. I was surprised that they accepted his choice." Stranger: "I am most definitely not. You are more intelligent and hardworking than most of the imbeciles at New Scotland Yard," said Mycroft decisively, "and you deserve to be Detective Inspector." Embarrassed by his own, tenacity, Mycroft took a long sip from his teacup. You: Greg smiled, but he shook his head. "There are a lot of good officers who could have been promoted instead of me, but thank you for your support. I don't doubt that you already know this, but I'd rather have you as the PM than half of the fools that run for office." Stranger: "I prefer to operate behind the scenes, but the sentiment is appreciated." Mycroft raised an eyebrow, "and I assure you, they are idiots." Mycroft tried desperately to keep the conversation rooted in the topic of NSY, as he would rather not talk about the reason for the needles. You: "I know they're idiots, even though I've never met most of them," Greg said, shrugging. He sipped his tea in silence for a few minutes, trying to figure out how to broach the subject of the needles. He couldn't give them back to Mycroft without knowing what they were for, but it didn't seem like Mycroft wanted to talk about it. Stranger: Mycroft was content to sit in silence, as long as Lestrade stayed. It was better if the newly-appointed DI didn't know about Mycroft's attraction to him, especially in light of this new discovery. You: Greg turned the question over in his mind as he drank his tea. He sighed once he was done, setting the cup down and taking the bag that the needles were in out of his jacket pocket, laying it on the table in front of him. Stranger: Mycroft stared into the bottom of his cup. For a long minute, the silence stretched like taffy between them, until Mycroft snapped it apart. "It's testosterone." You: Greg frowned. Why would Mycroft need testosterone, and why was he that uncomfortable mentioning it? "Excess testosterone injection can cause health problems..." Stranger: "I am well aware of the risks," snapped Mycroft, "and I had planned to stop next week, actually. Those are the last of the needles." You: Greg was taken aback by Mycroft's apparent anger. "I don't see why you'd risk it in the first place. You don't seem the type who would use unnecessary chemicals." Stranger: "They are not," he growled through gritted teeth, "unnecessary. Really, Lestrade, I thought you were smarter than this." Why hadn't he /gotten/ it? You: He frowned. "A few minutes ago you were saying that I'm more intelligent and whatever else than half of NSY, and now I'm not? What am I supposed to be understanding?" Stranger: "I need it to..." he sighed. "...to pass." Lestrade really wasn't stupid, but this was something he had difficulty admitting. You: To pass? Greg almost asked 'pass what?' before it clicked. Oh. Well, that explained why Mycroft was so initially evasive about what the needles were for. Stranger: Mycroft lowered his eyes. Of course, he still knew the exact moment that Lestrade caught on, but it gave him some semblance of separation. "I understand if you want to leave now," he said softly. You: Greg frowned. "Um...am I supposed to want to leave now?" Granted, the main reason he had come over was to give Mycroft the needles back, but usually they talked and just spent time together if they were both free at the same time. Stranger: "Most people are repulsed." You: "I don't see anything to be repulsed about." Stranger: "Really? I'm /wrong,/ my body is /wrong./" You: "/You/ aren't wrong. You were just...born in the wrong skin, with the wrong parts." Stranger: "And that's wrong." Mycroft took a slightly shaky breath and continued, "I am lucky that my position comes with the advantage of discreet assistants. Anthea has shown admirable restraint. And you are taking this surprisingly well." You: "It's not wrong," Greg said, shaking his head. "It's not like you chose this. You're you, and you're just as much of a man as I am, despite what anyone else says. It's not wrong, it's who you are. It would be like someone coming up to me and hating me because I'm a bloke." Stranger: In a startling and inopportune moment of sentiment, Mycroft felt a lump in his throat that prevented him from talking. Traitorous tears filled his eyes and he put his face in his hands. You: Greg bit his lip, wondering if he'd said something wrong. "Mycroft?" He'd seen the tears in his friend's eyes and worried that it was because he had offended or upset him. Stranger: "I- I am sorry," he said abruptly, sitting straighter and recovering his voice. "That won't happen again." Honestly, that was utterly mortifying. You: "Don't apologize," he said, shaking his head. "Just...I think I should be apologizing. I didn't mean to upset you." Stranger: "You did not, I promise," Mycroft assured his friend, "I just... I was not expecting such a supportive reaction." He took a deep breath and grasped Lestrade's wrist loosely in his hand. "Thank you." You: Greg smiled, shaking his head and putting his hand over the one Mycroft had on his wrist. "It's the truth, Mycroft. I'm not going to run from you because of it. You're the same person, still the same bloke who showed up and demanded that I let his little brother out of jail when he was arrested for possession. You're still my best mate." Stranger: Mycroft froze. The touch, he welcomed, but the declaration? "Best mate?" He repeated stupidly. Really, it wasn't a good night for eloquence. You: Greg gave him a quizzical look. "Yeah, of course. You're my best friend, have been since not long after we stopped sniping at each other and started getting along." Stranger: "Oh," said Mycroft, "as you are my only friend, I suppose you are my best friend as well." /And I wish you could be more than that,/ he finished silently, rubbing his thumb lightly along the underside of Lestrade's wrist. You: Greg smiled. "I'm glad. You're one of the most important people in my life, of course you're my best friend." He would like it to be more than that, of course, but he had never broached the subject, content to have Mycroft's friendship. Stranger: Feeling particularly brazen, Mycroft leaned across the table and placed a soft kiss to Lestrade's cheek. He Stranger: [ignore the "he."] You: Greg froze, startled. That was definitely unexpected, but not unwelcomed. Stranger: Mycroft pulled back warily, staring openly at Lestrade now. You: Greg realized how his silence could have been taken, so he smiled, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Mycroft's cheek. Stranger: "Oh," said Mycroft again. He wasn't sure what to do next. You: "Oh," Greg replied, smiling. "I didn't know you were interested." Stranger: "Well," said Mycroft slowly, "I am. I didn't know /you/ were interested in men." You: "I dated a few blokes in university, but admittedly I do usually date women," Greg said, shaking his head. "Gender doesn't matter much as the person does." Stranger: Mycroft grinned widely. "I suppose you are right," he murmured, and kissed Lestrade on the mouth. You: Greg smiled, returning the kiss and chuckling when they pulled apart. "I got the genius to admit I'm right. I think that's a victory for today." Stranger: "If you are amenable, I think there is time for me to prove you right again," said Mycroft rising and heading toward the sitting room. You: "Oh?" Greg asked, getting up and following after Mycroft. "How's that?" Stranger: "You aren't an idiot," Mycroft sat on the sofa, "and I happen to like you very much." He took Lestrade's hand and brushed a kiss across the knuckles. You: Greg sat beside Mycroft, smiling at the kiss and twining their fingers together. "Well, it's obvious that you aren't an idiot, and I like you very much as well." Stranger: "You should know, before we continue, that I am relatively inexperience, and that I may not... perform to your liking." You: "Mycroft, it's fine. I wouldn't leave you just because you've never, or rarely, done anything like this before. Why do you think you wouldn't 'perform to my liking'?" Stranger: "This is not the sort of activity in which I am usually inclined to take part, Lestrade," he said, shifting father away from the detective. You: He frowned slightly when Mycroft shifted away. "It's fine Mycroft, honestly." Stranger: "Are you sure?" He asked warily, unwilling to return to their previous closeness without confirmation. You: He nodded slowly. "I wouldn't say it if I wasn't. We'll go at your pace, Myc. We don't have to rush things." Stranger: Mycroft smiled and leaned back in, kissing Lestrade again. You: Greg smiled, but he still watched Mycroft carefully when they pulled apart. "We'll go at your pace," he repeated. "You don't have to feel rushed, or like I'm going to leave if we don't do certain things right away, alright?" Stranger has disconnected.

#trans!Mycroft #transgender #Mystrade #Mycroft Holmes #greg lestrade #sherlock BBC

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