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detectiveiiisms:

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sleeping with the duke wasn’t a good idea. it was, not by even a slightest, in his best interest either. he even briefly wondered if he could run, with john, but that seemed unlikely. he was confident that in one way or another, the duke would find the both of them and make john pay. he didn’t want that. john didn’t deserve that.

“–run away?”

no. he couldn’t. the duke would find out. he loved john, but was he to put his life at risk? he…he couldn’t. it was something he knew. he had to stop this. whatever they had, it was necessary to stop it right here, and right now. but as soon as he looked at john, he practically choked on his words and remained silent, parting his lips to try and speak, to say something, but he gave up in the end.

instead, he looked down and bit his lip, looking around the room for a moment before he gathered the courage (after a few minutes) to finally speak.

“we can’t be together.” he forced, looking up at him. “i have to stay here.”

maybe, while he is waiting for an answer and at the same time trying to search the truth in sherlock’s eyes, hope builds a ladder of lies and empty promises deep inside him, and despite knowing that it is bound to fall to pieces, he strarts climbing it, eager to see the light, eager to win this game he has lost already a long time ago. while he waits, he starts making a plan, the outlines, an impossible utopia for just the two of them.

yes run away, yes yes yes, he wants to scream it, scratch it into the stone floor for it to stay into all eternity, run away from here, run away with me, run away. but he’s aware that it is rhetorical, so he just keeps waiting, keeps climbing, anxious and filled with hope based on nothing and love.

john almost feels the ladder breaking down below him, oh stupid, naive him, and he’s sick of falling before he even falls. why would he say that, what would ever lead honest, true sherlock to say such a thing?

❝ sherlock, please, we could... ❞

he doesn’t even hear himself pleading, can’t voice what he wants to say, stumbles over the words, chokes on them, falls silent. what, what could they? this is not on him, not on him at all. who is he to make this decision, sabotage the other’s life he seems to be so perfectly fine with?

#detectiveiiisms #➥ convo. — detectiveiiisms #( moulin rouge!au )#( but yes i agree OH UUUUUUUU )

❛ on opening night, i have to sleep with the duke. ❜

meme

he needs a few seconds to process the words he just heard, seconds of blank staring while in his eyes realization dawns on him. no. why him. only slowly, his expression changes, like a waxen mask crumbling and falling to pieces, bit by bit, to reveal the hurt face behind it. for a while, he doesn’t speak, as if he didn’t understand, or as if it would go away if he didn’t move like a dangerous beast. breathing suddenly seams like an impossible task, and he has to concentrate on shielding himself from the wave of pain that is rushing towards him. he inhales deeply before he answers, his thin voice and the audible questionmark at the end indicating that this, in fact, is not the way he truly feels.

❝ alright. ❞

things are not alright, they’re not alright at all, and while he took a while to comprehend, he now perfectly knows what this means. they will find a way to work around this, a promise to remember them of their true feelings, but that sherlock agreed alone has john’s faith in them crack. this cannot end well.

his next thought springs up suddenly and with such an energy that he is baffled, at first, for the second time tonight too slow for what is happening. it is an infamous idea, dangerous even, but it’s brilliant, to him at least, and it could be the solution to this dilemma. as egoistic as this might be, he couldn’t bear the other sleeping with another man, a cruel, cold man moreover , and this is their escape. run from pompeiji, and watch everything turn to ashes behind you.

❝ run away with me. ❞

his tone is as blunt as his intentions, and if he wasn’t so desperate, he would be ashamed. the words are as sudden as the thought itself was, and part of him regrets them instantly, but once spoken, nothing can be unsaid. this is the day they’ll fly away, leave all this to yesterday.

#detectiveiiisms #➥ rp. — answered #( moulin rouge!au )#( did ya see what i did there )#( aLSO I WANNA SCREAM )

detectiveiiisms [x]

▂▃▄▅▆▇█▓▒░ӇƛMMЄƦ░▒▓█▇▆▅▄▃▂

“Completely serious,” he countered, tugging on a jacket (which may or may not have been Sherlock’s) while he watched the detective’s confusion. Sure it may have looked to be a little much, but Mjolnir didn’t want to find blood && disease next to his cookie dough. “I believe it will work for the little time I am going to the store.”

#detectiveiiisms #;;&&WHOSO EVER BE WORTHY #[ omfg mjo you crazy thinking thatll work ]

( detectiveiiisms )

he’s been to many and more auditions, he’s a veteran if you will, seasoned and practised, though not always what they need. this time, he has done it, made it to the next round if you want to call it that. he’s to dance with the partner, for the first time, to experience how well their styles will mesh, what kind of chemistry they will have. a partner of whom he has no information whatsoever, and no expectations at all, although he subconsciously hopes that she is not one of the emptyheaded kind. a personal preference, not that it’d influence is dancing in any way. he has changed quickly, but enters the studio with no rush, earthed and calm. maybe he is a slight bit too muscular, a few inches too short to be a dancer and acknowledged, but he has managed to get through till now. he instantly sees why they wanted him for this part, he can even see before his inner eye what the two of them will look like together in motion, and that’s an odd feeling he hasn’t had before. the other is everything he is not, slender and tall where he is sturdy, pale where he’s tanned, dark where he’s ashy. with confidence he strides towards the producers and organizers, and after quick exchanged words he finally turns to his partner. he almost knows his part by heart, but when the music starts playing it’s just the two of them, john and him, of whom he doesn’t even know the name.

#detectiveiiisms #➥ convo. — detectiveiiisms #( i have no idea how this goes on tbh )#( so sorry to anyone who has more idea of this for making bold assumptions? )#( i did ballet for 8yrs but that doesn't count bc i was a child )#➥ v. — a graceful frog ( a dance with the prince )

( Sherlock )

“Nothing is wrong with me.” Well, the fact that he was shifting at least five cigarettes in his hands from one to the other probably wasn’t supporting his response. He doesn’t look at Molly for a moment, until he realizes that she’s still there, and he takes a few moments before his eyes set back on her again, raising an eyebrow in a questioning manner, but says nothing.

She’s right, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, but a few things were bothering him. He just didn’t want to tell her what they were, because he knew that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about them.

Having known Sherlock Holmes for as long as she had, Molly Hooper was able to tell when something was wrong. She was not able to tell what it was, but the mere fact she was able to identify that something was wrong with the consulting detective was good enough for her. Now she only had to coax the information from him.

She did not want to do it in a cruel way, her concern for him being enough that she wanted to know what was currently going through his mind. If something was wrong, she wanted to be able to help him solve the problem he was having.

❝ Sherlock... You know you can tell me anything, right? ❞

A gentle had reached out, resting on his knee as her thumb pad brushed back and forth against the material of his trousers.

❝ You don’t have to go through whatever this is alone. I’m here for whatever you need. ❞

#detectiveiiisms #( v: the one who counted )#[sherlock just tell molly what is wrong #she'll be able to help you #and if you can't then she'll still be there for you

( sherlock... )

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he knows that john is very set on getting him tested because he’s suspicious that he’s been using again. he doesn’t understand what has got that thought in john’s head, but he knows that there’s no way that he can get out of a visit to the hospital again to have tests done. it irritates him to no end, but he knows there’s no way out of this once john has made his mind up.

“there is no point, john. i’m not using.” he tries again, staying where he was, sitting on the sofa.

stubborn child, unrelenting idiot. john takes a deep breath, for him to calm down and sort his thoughts, because he doesn’t want to debate on this when sherlock can easily out-logic him. it is worth a try, though, and mild puppy eyes have never failed their purpose.