#jmoriparty

[snipersmoran-archive]

j--moriarty

moriartylivesx

moriarrrrrty

Do you want to tell Hardell about Johnson's little slip up, boss, or shall I?

[filiafortissimi-archive]

+ like a hundred people

          "I'm sorry, did you need something? Or are you just planning on wasting my time?"

[invisibleregistrar]

It's late into the evening when Molly makes her way home, her bag slung lazily over one shoulder as she lingers beside the bus stop, waiting for the 172 to arrive and take her back to the sanctuary of warmth and comfort. It's been too long a day for anything else and even despite the open invitation, even a trip to the pub with her colleagues seems heinously like far too much effort. She'd rather just go home and clamber into a bubble bath, to fuss over Toby and watch a ridiculous amount of trashy television. She thinks she's earned that luxury, especially after the day she's had. It had started off well, she thinks - just routine post-mortems after intra-operative complications. Nothing exciting has jumped out at her, no murders or anything untoward having taken place that required her learned hands and skill with a scalpel. It's almost mundane really, and she thinks that perhaps why her mind's been playing tricks on her. She could've sworn she'd seen Jim, while lingering in line in the cafeteria. Could've sworn she'd seen him later on too, in the reflection of that accursed metal slab, and even later still, when she'd been bristling past people in the car park on her way to where she now stood. Fleetingly she'd wondered if she was going mad, or if this was some grand belated manifestation of grief she'd long since repressed, but in truth she just put it down to a lack of sleep and the time of year. She'd done similar things too after her father had died, seen his face in so many innocuous places it had bordered on OCD. The dead didn't just get back up one day and decide to prowl around your place of work, they didn't follow you home and haunt your footsteps like some kind of ethereal spectre - and that's what Moriarty was wasn't it? Dead. D-E-A-D. As in not living. As in incapable of serving as her shadow. Which, madness aside, led to only one explanation - and that was that dear Dr.Hooper had simply not slept nearly enough to be working with the workload she had, and was perhaps missing a dose of normality in her life, amidst doom, gloom and death. Tapping her foot impatiently, Molly glanced to her watch before deciding it was easier to walk home. If anything perhaps the liberating breath of cool air would wake her up and chase her own internalised demons from her. Shaking her head with a small huff, off down the road she headed with weary but methodical steps, the beginnings of a headache setting in behind her temples as she shook off the notion that she was imagining just about everything today. Sanity may well have been over-rated, but she was still rather eager to cling to her own.

[afamilyofthieves-blog]

[txt] What's the news?

[SMS: Jimbo] The news is there is no news. LMH

[SMS] Not yet, anyway. You need to be more specific with what you want us to do. LMH

[herbattledress]

{ As Irene Adler remarks on her website masthead: know when you’re beaten. }

                                        —— have you been wicked?

Irene Adler was back in London. She was sure the news would spread around rather quickly, if anything because of her reputation. Even if she returned back only after she assured herself a safe ground, people would still keep an eye on her. She knew it was only a matter of time, and the confirmed arrived with a the photos on her phone, photos of one of her contacts. It was a safe measurement, considering the people that came to her door in the past. She took some time to dress herself, and this time opted for nothing less than a simple v neck dress, black, that marked her most prominent features, still leaving an elegant air. A pair of black heels and the silver earrings, and finally a touch of faint make up, if not for the lips, often painted in a classic brick colour. As per usual Kate welcomed the guest, and after minutes of waiting she reached the living room with a pleasant smile. "I wasn't expecting you so soon," she said, amused. "To what do I owe the honour?"

[falling-nothinglikeflying]

j--moriarty said: hell yea we are

I do believe I may have signed my own death warrant, then.

[falling-nothinglikeflying]

✖

1/5

I never get enough people for these, so don’t get your hopes up.

[falling-nothinglikeflying]

✵

Hullo, mun here. I am an awkward potato who does not have sex gifs on her computer, so I shall now tell you how I imagine Sherlock and James having sex. Oh joy.

There is no clear top in my mind, although I think Moriarty may top first just to take Sherlock’s virginity initially. I imagine it being a sort of sudden, almost violent affair. Passionate to say the least. They’d struggle for dominance a good bit initially, because control freaks (at least Sherlock is.). I imagine they might try BDSM things, and like it because they are odd children. Excuse me if you wanted something more graphic. I can write smut, but I do not feel like writing out the smutty way I imagine things going down in my mind. There are children about on the site, you know. (Ha, no, I’m just awkward.)

Also, I have a reply to you drafted. I’m just bleh and trying to think of a better way to word it. Like everything in my life.