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Next to the last chapter of the end of the Say it fic and the conclusion to the Irene Adler/ Greg Lestrade series that took me and @stlgeekgirl on a journey is up
https://archiveofourown.org/works/24563224/chapters/67277011
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
They are Bi disasters. I won’t explain them anymore than that. This chapter is 5k of evidence.
Uninvited
aydamagethematurerminded asked: Hi! I love your work, could I ask for a prompt? It's after Sherringford and Irene Adler turns up for whatever reason and threatens molly (either seriously or as a joke to annoy Sherlock) but Sherlock's not having any of it. Maybe molly is there when it happens? You are amazing :D
Me: Enjoy this slightly naughty T rated fic. It's Sherlolly, even if it may not quite seem like it.
"My, my, Sherlock, what would Kitty Reilly say if she got her little pitty-paws on some of the snaps in your phone? I don't doubt she'd pay me a pretty penny for any one of them, but especially the one with Miss Hooper in the hat…and nothing else!"
Sherlock, who had stopped, paralyzed with a combination of shock and panic at the sight of Irene Adler perched naked on the arm of his sofa and scrolling calmly through his mobile, sprang into action. "Give me that," he growled, snatching the phone from Irene's unprotesting grip. "Woman, what are you doing here?"
"Can't an old friend drop by for a visit?" she asked with a little pout…but her eyes remained wicked and knowing. She ran a hand up his leg; he twitched away and she laughed. "Oh, relax, I'm not here for you. You weren't supposed to be home for hours yet, at least that's what my dear friend told me!" She had the audacity to wink at him. "And I must say, I'm so pleased you have your own 'dear friend' these days."
A dear friend who would be home in about fifteen minutes, having taken a half-day after an exhausting week. "Woman, get your clothes on, get whatever scheme you have going on out of my flat and out of my life, and consider yourself told no. No the scheme, no to whatever trouble it is you're currently in, and especially no to, to dinner!" The last word was said in a lower tone, almost a whisper, and he found himself involuntarily glancing around as if they might be overheard.
Then something she'd said earlier finally brought itself to his attention. "Wait, what 'dear friend' are you talking about?" he demanded.
As if on cue the door to the bathroom opened, emitting a cloud of steam…and a very naked Greg Lestrade. "Right, all done," he said cheerily as he made his way to the sitting room. "Suppose we should start lookin' for our clothes, eh?"
His grin vanished as soon as he saw that Irene wasn't alone. "Bugger all!" he exclaimed, automatically reaching down with both hands to cover himself. "What’re you doin' ‘ere?"
"Oh, don't mind me, it's just my flat," was Sherlock's sardonic rejoinder. He glanced down at Irene, still unselfconsciously naked, and raised an eyebrow. "Really, Woman? DI Lestrade?"
"Really really," she replied, rising gracefully to her feet and crossing the small distance to stop by Greg's side. She linked her arm through his, ignoring his squawk of dismay as his hand was temporarily dislodged from its 'ow my balls' position. "I told you, didn't I, that I liked detective stories?" She smirked and placed a deliberate kiss on Lestrade's cheek. "And detectives?"
(Sherlock never did find out why they decided to use his flat for their liaison - but he was extremely glad Molly didn't arrive until they both had their clothes back on!)
Sherlollicon 2020 Flash Fic #2 – Adstrade/Lestradler, diamond, bench by the Thames
Greg sighed as another dog pull its master past the bench he’d been sitting on for the last fifteen minutes. He’d give her another five, then he was leaving, he told himself firmly.
Ninety seconds before his self-imposed deadline, a woman gracefully slid onto the bench next to him. Even wrapped in a plain coat and a simple blue dress, she was stood out in a crowd. Something about the way she held her head and the confident expression on her face that shouted “I am Somebody” to the world.
God, he loved her. Not that he’d ever tell her that. It wasn’t the sort of relationship they had.
He could just imagine the way she’d scoff and look at him with pity in her eyes if he started to talk about feelings. That wasn’t what she wanted from him. It wasn’t what he’d thought he’d wanted, not more than a year ago when all this had started. Then it had just been fucking, a way to blow off steam when the world was particularly shitty. Yes, now they spent just as many nights tucked onto his couch watching documentaries on the telly as they did in bed; but he always bit his tongue when he felt the urge to say something sappy.
“You’re late,” he grumbled instead.
“Had to pick up something from the bank first.” She cast him a look from the corner of her eye. “I brought you a gift, pet.”
Greg narrowed his eyes. He’d learned long ago that some gifts came with nasty strings attached.
Irene pulled a small box out of her pocket. She snatched it back when he began to reach for it. “There is a favor that goes with this.”
He knew it.
She tilted her head to the side and slowly dropped it into his outstretched hand. “More of a question than a favor.”
The box was small and looked suspiciously like… No. There was absolutely no way.
He clicked it open and stared at the diamond solitaire ring nestled inside.
“I wouldn’t be able to wear it while I’m working, obviously,” Irene began. “But I thought you might like the tradition of an engagement ring all the same. I’m afraid I don’t have the matching bands, but we can have something suitable made when the time is right, surely.”
“I’m-what?” Greg stuttered, finally meeting her eyes. If he didn’t know any better, he would think she looked nervous.
“We’ve been together for a year. I know you’ve been married before, but this is the longest I’ve spent in a relationship with one person in my entire life. I felt I’ve been rather patient these last few months, waiting for you to get around to telling me how you felt, one way or the other. But I’m tired of waiting. So there you go, quickest way to end the uncertainty.”
He blinked and looked at the ring again. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
40 Questions: 9, 10, 13, 14?
Another one?! I am a spoiled lady, that’s for sure. Thank you! 😘
9. Do you have many ships that never got together at all?
Mm, not many. I can think of one big one though, because even the possibility was squashed. I always felt like Mary Bennet in Pride and Prejudice should have ended up with Mr. Collins. I mean, yes he makes me gag a little lol, but she seemed totally into him! There’s somebody for everybody and it made more sense to me for them to be together than for Charlotte to have settled for him because she thought she had to.
10. Do you ship any characters that never met?
I guess Adstrade actually falls into this category. It’s logical that they could have met at some point, but as far as on screen canon, they never did. That’s the only one that pops in my head at this moment, though there might be more.
13. Has a ship ever broken your heart?
Umm hahahahahaha....yuh. Some I can think of right now are Brucetasha, Wondertrev, Fourtris, Warstan, and honestly the list just goes on lol. *weeps forever*
14. How do you feel about will they/won’t they?
I legit had to google this to make sure what that meant lol. (Kinda obvious but I’d just never seen it worded that way before) In case anyone else is wondering, it means two people who share chemistry but their relationship is threatened by uncertainty, obstacles, or internal strife. And once I read that I was like, isn’t this just the definition of almost every ship?? And I also wondered why sherlolly wasn’t pictured along with the written definition. 🤣 So, that being said, how I feel about “will they/won’t they” is...
Accidentally caffeinated and a slow day at work. Hit me with an Adstrade prompt, three words or fewer, and I’ll try for a ficlet.
Or Sherlolly. Or even Mythea.
AN: A bit late to the Adstrade party, but here we go.
He was never one for surprises.
Hated them, in fact. For it meant he had failed to observe his surroundings and anticipate.
So, it was with a loathsome frustration that he shook himself free of the brief, millisecond of shock, and shut the door of his office behind him. Thus trapping him inside with a most unwelcome intruder. One who he had presumed, erroneously, to be deceased.
"Shall I call for tea or will this be a short visit?" He gripped the handle of his brolly tightly should he need to parry an attack.
Perched elegantly in his chair, one legs crossed over the other, Irene Adler stared back at him, a smirk on her red lips.
"Oh, this will be quite brief, Mr Holmes," she purred. But he heard the underlying steel in her voice.
She leaned forward and slid a file across his desk.
Keeping her in his sight at all times, he opened the folder and skimmed its contents, his eyebrows raising the minutest touch at seeing DI Lestrade's name listed as the subject.
"The Government has no interest in the internal affairs of New Scotland Yard." He shut the file and eyed her carefully. "And I fail to see why you of all people would concern yourself with an entity of justice, especially one that seeks to imprison you."
Her elegantly painted nails drummed against the leather of his chair. It was almost a full minute before she spoke.
"We make exceptions to our rules for those we care about. You, of all people, Mr Holmes, know that."
Indeed he did, though he would never admit it aloud.
"Make this unfounded inquiry disappear and so will I." She tapped the folder.
He watched her and chose his words with care. "I take this to mean your little obsession with my brother is no more."
A wicked smile twisted her lips. "Been there. Done that."
Mycroft grimaced in distaste.
She laughed, all signs of wickedness vanishing, and a true, content look came over her face. "Your brother is perfectly happy with his fiercesome little mouse and she is a far better keeper than I would be. No, Mr Holmes, my tastes run a bit more... mature."
She stood and slid the file toward him once more.
"Do we have a deal?"
Feeling a bit like he was signing his soul over to the devil, he accepted the file and nodded. "Very well, Miss Adler. I shall see that your," he eyed her critically, "paramour, is cleared of all suspicion."
Those wicked red lips turned up into a smile. "Oh, my, Mr Holmes. It seems you have a soft spot for romance."
"Out," he snapped.
She tsked something about manners and sashayed around his desk, leaving as silently as she had come.
Mycroft stared at the file. It seemed she did have a thing for detectives, after all.
Latest Adstrade story is out in the series Don’t complicate it.
Its called A Perfect Lie
I can’t say much just hey it hurts by the end and good luck.
New Adstrade/Lestradler!
Greg and Irene have a date but everything is different as they both contemplate how tomorrow changes everything. Yeah, the series is calledDon’t Complicate It but damn if they didn’t just go do that exactly.
Enjoy, it drove me mad and took a vote by three people including @eclecticmuses and @stlgeekgirl to decide the title.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/21247724
