#immaculate protection

[littleplasticthings]

Feet On The Brim Of My Board, Nowaves, 2017

[littleplasticthings]

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Nowaves - Feet On The Brim Of My Board

Punk / Dresden / 2017

[wirsindesnicht]

[lilsherlockian1975]

Hello. Forgive me for the intrusion but i just wanted to ask about your fic "Immaculate Protection". It's one of my favorites and i have to admit that i miss it. And i know you're busy and again i'm sorry i don't wish to pressure you or anything but i just wanted to know if there are any plans to update it in the future.

Ghhhhh! This story haunts me! I wish I had something more definite for you, sweetness, but the best I can say is that I *want* to finish IP even more than you want to read it. I have no real excuse for this one other than muse loss. Once I lost the direction of chapter 9, I put it to the side to 'think' on it for a while, then simply couldn't get my groove back.

I have some ideas, and Mizjoely asked me about it recently too, making me start to ponder what the heck I was doing. My best answer is that it's on hold for the moment. I promise to get back into it as soon as possible. I won't give up on it unless it's absolutely hopeless and if that happens, I'll either pull it or mark it as 'abandoned'.

Thank you so much for the ask! And you are NEVER an intrusion! ~Lil~

[lilsherlockian1975]

Immaculate Protection chapter 8

I posted this chapter at like six am, in a state of insomnia, and frankly didn’t trust myself to navigate the often times confusing (for me) ways of the Tumblr. At any rate here’s a preview. Big thanks to @mizjoely for all her help. Read the rest on FF.net or AO3. Thank so much! ~Lil~

- Maybe There's A God Above -

24th December

Their shopping trip had gone surprisingly well. Molly's oohing and aahing over all the 'baby things' had Sherlock wishing he'd taken her shopping sooner. He'd been prepared for her to put on a front, but she didn't. Not completely anyway. Oh, she wasn't his Molly, but she seemed to be trying to enjoy herself. At least she wasn't being fake.

Though he abhorred shopping as a rule, he relished getting to spend time with Molly in a different setting. When they were finished she shyly asked if they could grab some lunch, saying that she was starved. He jumped at the opportunity. Half way through the meal he decided that if he squinted it could look like a date. Of course, his experience was admittedly limited (fake dating notwithstanding), and possibly quite out of date. Also Molly was simply a hungry Christmas shopper, but he'd enjoyed himself nevertheless.

Upon returning to the flat she became aloof and closed off once again, perhaps even more so than before. He had no idea what to make of it. He tried to talk to her, just idle chat, which was more than a little difficult for him. But after several minutes of monosyllabic responses and head nods she asked if he'd watch Aricin for a while she did some thinking. Thinking?

Now Sherlock found himself holding his son in a room full of people. Tedious. John and Mary had had the annoyingly bright idea of hosting a party at 221B to celebrate Aricin's first Christmas and Molly seemed to agree, although somewhat reluctantly. So here he was with his parents, his brother, Mrs. Hudson, DI Lestrade, a few people from Barts and Molly's bitterly single friend Meena, pretending not to be in misery. He was certain he was failing.

"Oh Sherlock, stop hiding behind my grandson," his mother said, giving him a look that said 'hand over the baby or there will be consequences'.

He gave up the infant with a sigh, thus losing his last line of defense. Now he'd have to participate in the damn party. Considering his options, he tucked himself in the corner and scanned the small crowd. Thankfully John made his way over to him shortly thereafter.

"You look like you're about to bolt. That would be a bit not good," he said, handing Sherlock a scotch.

"I'm not going anywhere, John. But this is by no means my type of gathering."

"Really? And what is your type of gathering?" John asked with a smile.

"There are usually more dead bodies," Sherlock answered flatly.

John laughed and looked across the room. "Molly seems to be enjoying herself."

Sherlock had been keeping an eye on her all night. "Yes, she's putting on a good show. She seems to have perked up the last couple of days, though I don't know why." He took a deep breath. "We had a nice time shopping the other day. But afterwards, she fed Aricin, handed him to me and closed herself off in her room for several hours. She barely spoke to me when I brought him in after his bath."

"Did you ask her what was wrong?"

The detective shook his head. "I wasn't sure what to do. Can't these mood swings just be hormonal? Her body getting back to normal after having a baby?"

"Sure. Mary went through something similar after Anna was born. But I think with Molly, given what she's been through, you probably shouldn't assume."

As the evening went on, and Sherlock continued to use his son as a shield whenever possible, he made sure to keep an eye on Molly. The longer he watched the more he was convinced that something was different. He didn't know what it was, but he was determined to find out.

[lilsherlockian1975]

Immaculate Protection chapter 6

So many people to thank on this one... @mizjoely, my amazing beta! @mrsmcrieff, Brit picker and all around great gal. And @bekah1218, my resource for medical knowledge (when my husband fails!) Thank you all, I’m blessed to know you! This is the LONG preview for chapter six. FYI... there is a bright spark hidden within this chapter. Damn, all this angst is starting to get to me! Read the rest on FF.net and AO3. Thanks so much for all your support!

-You Never Show It To Me, Do You?-

Molly started therapy almost immediately thanks to Mycroft and his resources. Sherlock was footing the bill, and Molly knew she was having to depend heavily- completely, rather- on him for support as she had no source of income. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, but it wasn't as if she had any choice. She met two times a week with a lovely older woman named Sheila who specialised in PTSD. The problem was that she also seemed to be suffering from postnatal depression. That meant she had to see a psychiatrist as well. Psychiatrist plus postnatal depression equals antidepressants. After a long conversation with her doctor and an even longer one with Sherlock, they all decided on a medication that was safe for her to take while she was breastfeeding. It helped, it really did. She didn't feel quite so disconnected and detached as she had when they'd first come home. But there wasn't a magic pill to make her stop reliving nearly a year with James Moriarty or the awful things he'd said and done. Not to mention that she had killed him only moments after giving birth.

She didn't even feel emotional about the whole thing. Most of the time she felt almost nothing at all. The only time she could say she connected with someone else on a personal level, was when she was with Aricin. Being with her son did make things seem a bit brighter, a bit… hopeful.

The nightmares were easy to hide. Sherlock didn't seem to be aware of them. When he asked how she was sleeping, she'd tell him 'as good as I can with a hungry newborn in the room'. The truth was, oddly enough, Aricin actually calmed her when she woke up sweaty and terrified. She'd look at her sleeping (or sometimes not sleeping) son and she'd realise she wasn't alone in a house in Pennsylvania, but safe in Baker Street. It usually took several minutes to slow her breathing and get her bearings, but eventually she'd find herself somewhat at what at ease. Sometimes sleep would come once again, sometimes it wouldn't. She told her therapist about the nightmares, but she never told the father of her child.

There was also there was the fact that Molly had nothing to call her own. She had no job, no home and few possessions. Jim had taken everything from her and she still felt a shitload of resentment towards Sherlock. Sure, in the end he'd come for her, but she couldn't get Jim's words out of her head. She heard them when she was falling to sleep at night and every time Sherlock had tried to tell her that she actually meant something to him. He'd tried to talk to her; she could tell he wanted to defend himself, perhaps offer some sort of half-arsed explanation as to why he hadn't said goodbye- why he'd ignored her for months, but she wouldn't allow it. After the third attempt he let it go, thankfully. Sometimes Molly felt like her place at Baker Street was solely as the mother of his child. A glorified wet nurse, as it were.

He was worried. She could tell he was in a constant state of 'what will Crazy Molly do next?'. She wanted to reassure him, tell him that she wouldn't harm Aricin or herself. But they didn't really talk unless it was about their child's care. They just hovered. They behaved like strange flatmates, well, the kind who shared a child. About four weeks after she started her medication she decided to sit him down and clear up a few things.

"Sherlock," she said, standing behind him in the kitchen.

He removed his safety glasses and turned, giving her his full attention. He looked a bit shocked if she was honest.

"I've just put Aricin down for a nap. Can we talk?"

"Of course," he said, standing and walking to the sink, presumably to wash his hands. "I'll meet you in the sitting room. Do you want some tea?"

"Ah, yeah. But I can make it." She started to move toward the kettle but he motioned for her to stop.

"No- no. I've got it. I'll be right in."

A few minutes later he came in carrying a tea tray, complete with her favourite biscuits. Molly actually smiled at the thoughtful gesture. "Thank you, Sherlock."

He nodded his response. "So, you wanted to talk," he said as he prepared her cup.

"Yes. Ah, I'm feeling much better since I started taking my medication. And I think you should start working again. Outside the flat, I mean."

Sherlock blinked looking rather confused then he shook his head and busied himself adding sugar to his cup. "Aricin is barely over a month old…"

"I'm aware of the age of my child, Sherlock," Molly snapped. She cursed herself for being so abrupt. This wasn't going to convince the man that she was on the mend. "Sorry. My point is that I don't need a babysitter anymore. I can take care of him."

Sherlock stared at her for a moment. "I'm not babysitting you, Molly. I'm bonding with our son. In case you haven't noticed I rather enjoy spending time with him."

She couldn't argue that. Sherlock had been wonderful. All those parenting books he'd power-read must have really done the trick. That or he was just a natural, she hadn't decided. But the newness would wear off eventually. "I'm sure you do, but it's only a matter of time before this becomes boring and you lose interest." She regretted it the moment she said it. The look of hurt that flashed on Sherlock's face was enough to make her want to take back her words. But she didn't- she couldn't.

He stood up. "I will start taking cases as soon as I see some semblance of the Molly Hooper I once knew. Until then… my son needs me." He stormed to his room.

[theredcactus]

Jean-Cédric Sox - Immaculate Protection - Esmod Collection