#leo watson

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“Hey, anything to put a little more harmony in the world.”

[mosaicrecords]

The Onyx Trio: 1937

Wow! CBS radio’s Saturday Night Swing Club from July 15, 1937 with three regulars from 52nd Street’s heyday, guitarist Teddy Bunn, vocalist Leo Watson and pianist Bobby Henderson heard here as the Onyx Trio. Enjoy this rarity courtesy of Michael Steinman’s jazzlives.

-Scott Wenzel

Read and listen from Jazz Lives… Follow: Mosaic Records Facebook Tumblr Twitter

[notgonnarememberthis]

The Fall - Chapter 2

In lew of that pre finale I figured people would need something a little softer, luckily I had this prepared for just such an occasion! This bit is set 5 years after the first chapter and deals with Watson adopting a child named Leo who’s 4 in this. He’s made some appearances in other fics of mine but they’re not connected. I just like the flow of the name Leo Watson.

Now I’ve had people asking if I would continue to write for them even after the show ends and my answer is absolutely. These two will always be a classic favorite of mine and I think I’ll still be writing them for years to come should the ideas come to me. I have friends that are behind on the show so I have no doubt I’ll be rewatching with them. I just hope y’all will continue to have me. I’ll also be posting occasional art as I now have the means to digitalize some of my drawings.

Out of all things in the house, Watson will never get used to the silence. Even when Leo was a baby it didn’t compare to Sherlock’s presence. Random explosions, various bangings, and the occasional fall kept the Brownstone in near constance noise. Now as she studies the newest crime scene photos with her son coloring in the other room leaves the plaster walls in an unnatural quiet. She can hear every creak of the house settling, the light scribbling on paper, all the way down to the heels of his shoes tapping softly against the couch as he swings his feet.

She almost lets out a sigh of relief when the teapot begins whistling breaking the tense air. Abandoning the work for a second she goes to tend to the tea. Days like this are the worst; the case is boring at best, there’s no need to call up for Kitty’s help, Marcus is focused as the newest captain of the 11th. She’s on her own.

She slides her hand through her hair listening for the sounds of Leo. Whenever things have gotten rough, whenever she found herself wanting to run, she grounds herself by looking at her son. It’s been four years since she’s adopted him and he’s only getting more curious. She can’t help but love him a little more every time he looks up at her with sparkling eyes as he makes a new discovery. Watching him and Archie explore feels so incredibly innocent. She can’t help but smile.

However, she doesn’t hear the light taps or scribbling. She pokes her head around the corner finding the coloring supplies abandoned with no mop of hair in sight. “Leo?” She calls. He might have scurried off to the bathroom, logic dictates. Her eyes flash to the door, it’s closed but unlocked. Her heart falls certain that she’d locked it. She locks it every time.

Her pace quickens through the house. With every room empty, panic takes a tighter grip on her throat. Tears are just gathering in her eyes when she hears his voice. He’s explaining in broken sentences. It’s not an irregular occurrence as he frequently talks to stuffed animals and even his imaginary friend. She encourages him to learn to talk as much as possible and with an outstanding creativity he takes all the chances he can get.

Yet the panic doesn’t abate. Not when she spies two shadows casting through the doorway. “Mommy!” His voice cries as she steps through the door. Quick footsteps echo as he crashes into her. She lifts him without hesitation but isn’t even looking at him. Rather her eyes are trained on the other figure.

He’s sitting with his back turned to her, staring up at the wall of art Leo has made over the years. He’s got on a dark jacket paired with khaki dress pants. The shorn back of his head looks painfully familiar. She tries so hard not to hope. His words echo in her ears. A promise he’d made to her five years ago.

“It’s Uncle Sherlock.” Leo whispers in her ear like it’s a secret. Sherlock chooses to turn in that moment. He looks older than she remembers, wrinkles forming in the corners of his eyes. He’s got rough stubble forming and his eyes harbour sadness that she remembers all too fondly.

“Hey, why don’t you go color me a picture?” She places a kiss on the little boy’s cheek before putting him down. She waits until he scurries off to make her move.

As she turns back Sherlock is standing now, eyes running over her. “You cut your hair.” He states. She’d chopped her hair off to a bob after a particular case involving children. She’d needed a change in that moment. It was a spur of the moment decision.

“Good observation.” He chuckles, a light rumble in his chest. She can’t hold back her reservations anymore, comfort be damned. She takes three steps before wrapping her arms around him tightly. She shuts her eyes trying to will the tears to go away as they build up. However, when he wraps his arms around her returning the hug she can’t help it as they flow down her cheeks staining his jacket.

“I’m so sorry Watson.” He whispers into her hair. She shakes her head against him. Right now she doesn’t need an explanation. That can be saved for later. Right now she just wants to pray that this isn’t a sick dream.

She pulls away suddenly, a hand coming up to his cheek. “Have you seen Bell, Gregson?”

“No. I came here first.”

“Are you…” She doesn’t dare to finish the sentence. Not when there’s a chance that he’s only stopped by. Not when he could so easily leave her all over again.

“I’m back. For good.” She nods jerkily. He presses a soft kiss to the top of her head, so light that she’s unsure it happened at first. “Now, I do believe there’s someone I need a proper introduction to. Though he seems to already know me quite fondly.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

The Brownstone is never quiet anymore. His experiments have become less severe, yes, but now with Leo studying him asking questions with curious eyes. Sherlock is all too enthusiastic to explain what he is doing, already seeing the potential in a new student so young. Even when they’re not working Sherlock takes up a role as caretaker with ease. She’s seen how he acted as godfather to Archie, it’s not shocking.

She watches the two of them as they run around the living room, Sherlock chasing Leo in a game of their own. It starts with a game of chess, delves into something like tag, before going back to chess again. She can’t say she misses the quiet even in the slightest. Not when she sees them smile, not when she catches them both with Leo sleeping on Sherlock’s lap, and not when they walk hand in hand eating their ice cream as she trails just behind texting Marcus about the latest case. Now instead of light tapping or scribbling as she makes tea, screams of laughter echo through the Brownstone. The walls singing with a young family, her family.

[oldshowbiz]

1946 - Leo Watson was a jazz genius who regularly played Billy Berg’s at Hollywood and Vine. Billy Berg’s is credited with introducing the new form of Bop to the jazz audiences of the West Coast. By all accounts, it was a real cookin’ joint where you could hear the fastest, loudest, and most innovative jazz music during an era when the squares were still obsessing over the big band sound.

[electric-company-gifs]

“Artichokes may have talent that we don’t know about.”

[notgonnarememberthis]

A Winter Wonderland

This is the last of my pre-written material before I drop off the face of the earth again. I was working pretty well paced on a lengthy fic (which I’m hoping to get up before February at least,, oof) but I got hit with what I can only describe as a health crisis cause neither me nor the doctors know what the fuck is wrong with me. I’ve been dizzy and generally disoriented for a couple of days so it’s made concentrating on fic writing difficult to say the least. 

As a whole I was not too happy with this when I wrote it hence why I put off posting it for so long but when doesn’t this fandom need cute domestic joanlock fluff? So here it is anyways hope you enjoy while I WebMD my symptoms

Sherlock watches with an amused smile on his face as Leo escapes his mother’s grasp dropping unceremoniously to the ground. Excitement sparkles in the young boy’s eyes as he spies the snowflakes raining down from the sky. However, before he can make his grand escape outside the restaurant his mother catches him by the back of his collar.

“Coat.” Joan had perfected her authoritative voice after living with him for so many years. Even with his exuberance the boy doesn’t dare question his mother’s commands sticking up his little arms so that she can help it on him. She kneels down to his height helping him with the zip before placing a kiss on his cheek despite loud squealing protests. He can’t help the grin that fights to spread across his lips. Rather he tucks it a way with a clearing of his throat.

He holds Watson’s coat out for her helping her shrug it on as she did for her son. She reaches out and takes the three year old’s hand as they step out into the cold night.

The rush of bitter wind makes him wince and he almost misses the immediate look of wonder that spreads across Leo’s face. The two detectives follow the gaze and spot the cause of wonder at the same time.

Across the street is a large carriage decorated with garland and garish red ribbons with excessive golden sparkles. A man sits in the steering position in a large black coat and a top hat, holding the reins to a dark brown horse shaking its mane. The man seems to spot Leo as they step out as he tips the brim of his hat towards him. Uncharacteristically shy, he feels tiny hands grip the back of his pants as he hides behind his leg.

In a bold move he sweeps up the boy and strides towards the carriage. He can hear Watson’s gasp and protests but he decides to ignore him. “May we pet your horse Mr?”

“Blakley,” The man introduces himself with a wide-toothed grin. His eyes wrinkle at the corners and he feels Leo tuck his mop of curls into his shoulder. “Her name is Maybelle.”

He mouths a thank you to the man before stepping to the horse. He’s careful to avoid the patches of ice shining in the light of the street lamps. He feels the iron tight grip loosen on his collar a bit. A quick peek tells him that Leo’s shyness is shrinking away. The wonder has returned full force as dark eyes meet chestnut ones.

Sherlock sticks his hand out first, petting the neck of the beast. “Hello Maybelle.” He says softly. He shifts the boy urging him to stick out his own hand. Tiny fingers brush the fur against his own.

“Hi Belle.” It’s a whisper only Sherlock can hear but he feels the warmth spread through him instantly. He hears the snap of the camera behind him and spies Watson’s smile next. So rarely did he see such a genuine smile cross her lips. He swears he even sees tears sparkling in her eyes.

“Shall we take a ride?” His statement startles mother and child both.

“Can we?” The boy gasps.

“We have work.” Although Sherlock can hear the wistfulness in her voice. They’ve been busy on a particularly rough case all week and Leo is getting much too old to see the violent images posted up on the walls. Often it’s handled with Joan’s multitasking or playdates with Kitty and Archie but this case commands her attention. It was the first time they were able to eat together as a family all week.

The night had been filled with excited broken chatter recounting the last playdate where Archie introduced Leo to the world of Star Wars and the floor is lava. Watson had nearly spit out her tea when he’d mentioned that Kitty played with them. He can hardly imagine someone as brooding as Kitty bouncing on cushions proclaiming imaginary danger. As it got later he could feel the dread looming over them. Eventually they would have to drop Leo off at Mrs. Hudson’s and Watson and him were to whisk off to analyze the crime scene once again.

“And I’m sure if you sent Marcus that picture of his favorite godson he’ll be more than understanding if we’re a bit tardy.” She purses her lips at his statement. Her face reads it all, she knows he’s right and she is hardly more impervious to the big puppy eyes of the toddler in his arms than he is.

“Fine.” She sighs reluctantly but a wide smile tugs at her lips. He grins offering her a hand as she climbs up the stairs in her heeled boots. Gingerly, he passes Leo up to her where she settled them both onto the cushioned seat. He climbs up next taking his seat so that the little boy is nestled between them.

The soft sounds of hooves clopping on the streets fill the night air as the three of them relax. It is barely twenty minutes into the ride before he feels the weight Leo shift. He climbs into his mother’s lap burrowing his nose into her neck. Wordlessly, Sherlock reaches behind them pulling out two blankets. Watson mouths a thank you wrapping the first blanket around her son, the other she uses one hand to hook it over her shoulders before holding out the other half for him.

“No I’m fine.”

“Yeah and the last thing I need is Bell getting on me for letting you catch a cold out here because you refuse to share a blanket.”

“Actually you can’t-”

“Just get over here.” The ‘mom voice’ comes back and he has no choice but to scoot over so his side is pressing against hers. In the strangest way the closeness does not feel awkward nor forced. He feels the warmth radiating off of her layered body and is sure she feels the same.

He watches her in moments where she’s not paying attention. Her eyes trace over New York as if seeing it for the first time. It’s stunning that despite knowing Leo’s adopted and having been through the procedures alongside her, he can still see resemblances between mother and child. Particularly their dark captivating eyes that demand attention. His breath catches when those eyes suddenly meet his catching him staring.

“Did you know that carriage operators aren’t supposed to ride in temperatures below 19 degrees?” He can hear it in her tone of voice, she already knows the answer to her question. He partially wonders how long it took her to deduce that Mr. Blakely is, in fact, one of his irregulars hired for the purpose of this carriage ride.

Part of him wonders if he should keep up the facade or give in. “Leo likes horses,” He finally relents under her scrutinous gaze.

“Well I think it’s sweet. Thank you.” Warmth spreads through his chest at her approval.

They reach the Brownstone far too soon for his liking but he knows the night had to end eventually. Watson carefully passes a sleeping Leo on to Mrs. Hudson while he tips the driver and thanks him.

As they make their way to the police station he feels Watson’s hand brush up against his. He tries to catch her gaze but she stares forwards as if she didn’t notice the contact at all. He partially believes he imagined it until it happens again. The soft touches continue all the way there.

And he was right, Bell didn’t complain.

[notgonnarememberthis]

Paying Attention- Chapter 7

We come once again to the end of a fic. I’m especially proud of this chapter (and mildly freaked out). Long story short I write in chunks and come back later. I wrote half of this (up until Sherlock telling Watson what had happened) last Friday in between classes. The rest I finished today in a spur of writing because I noticed a few startling similarities between my writing and the canon. I was already shocked at Watson being in danger at the hands of Michael. Imagine my surprise when the FBI is accusing Watson and that he was beaten to death. If it’s revealed next week that Moriarty killed Michael I’ll lose my shit.

Shoutout to my best friend in the world Rey for being my sounding board once again for a story and helping me work out kinks in the story even though they’ve literally only seen 2 episodes. See y’all in the next story

Sherlock nearly smiles at the sight he comes upon as he stalks down the stairs from his latest experiment. His first sight is the bright green baby blanket spread across the hardwood floor signifying tummy time for the younger Watson. This was to be expected as it was on schedule for him which Joan follows quite strictly. However, what he did not expect to see as he descended was Watson, herself, lying on her stomach across from her son making exaggerated faces. Her eyes flash up to him upon hearing his footsteps and he hears a small noise of distress from Leo, who’s protesting the sudden loss of attention. Within a second her attention is back on her son making an ridiculous angry face to which the boy erupts into laughter in response of.

“He’s getting quicker with his responses.” She remarks proudly. She swoops Leo from his lying position settling him in her lap when she readjusts herself to sit up. “He especially likes making faces.” She bestows a kiss on her son’s head filling his heart with warmth.

“I could see that.” He teases gently. Upon hearing his voice Leo finally seems to notice his presence with a repeated announcement of ba!

Watson amuses the small boy pointing at Sherlock with a smile. “Is that ba?”

“Ba!” He yells out again.

“You know Bà is far from Uncle Sherlock?” He settles on the couch across from the pair.

“And you know sh, r, and ck are some of the hardest phonetic sounds in the english language for children to learn.” She raises an eyebrow challenging him. She’d caught him late one night reading on the speech patterns of children. He’d tried to excuse it as crucial to the case but she knows him far too well for that to be even mildly excusable. He’s as smitten with the youngest addition to the family as he is. In fact, little Leo Watson seems to have everyone he meets wrapped around his little finger. “Besides, I think Bà is cute.” She beams.

He opens his mouth to present an argument against the title but is swiftly interrupted by the doorbell. Her sly smirk is enough to tell him that she is under the impression that she’s won this round. “This isn’t over.”

“Sure it’s not.”

In the month since Watson’s capture they’ve settled into odd patterns of behavior. One of which is his refusal for her to answer the door. It’d come with the repeated nightmare of Watson being shot, bleeding out in his arms. Despite their new sleeping arrangements of him settling into her bed whenever he’d find himself tired enough to sleep, the nightmares didn’t quite go away. Yet it was comforting to wake with her head on his shoulder, dark hair slipping over her face in slumber.

The same goes for when she suffers as well. She’ll startle herself awake enough to bring himself to attention. He keeps still as not to push her away but he can feel her fingers digging into the spot on his chest, unconsciously checking for a pulse to match her own racing heart against. They never talk about it in the morning but he will always end up in her bed and she’ll curl towards him at some point during the night.

He opens the door to reveal Detective Bell looking rather grim.

“Marcus, come in. I’m sure Leo would be happy to see you.”

“As tempting as it is to see the little man I’m here for strict business.” The smile fades from Sherlock’s face as he adjusts himself. “Michael Rowan was found in his cell last night beaten to death.”

“I hope you don’t hold it against me that I find that relieving.” He frowns. He’d known this was coming for a while but in all honesty it’d taken longer than he expected. Moriarty was normally more keen on these sorts of things.

“I don’t but the FBI probably will.”

“Excuse me?” Sherlock chokes out.

“You and Watson are the prime suspects in the murder of Michael Rowan.” Marcus passes the papers to Sherlock with a regretful look. “You’re both to turn yourselves in the FBI as soon as possible.”

“We didn’t-”

“I know.” He shifts from one foot to the other in disbelief. “But they know you got the motive.”

“Watson still hardly has the range to walk down the stairs much less take down a man twice her size.” He says quietly not to disturb the pair in the other room.

“I know. That’s why the Captain sent me to warn you. Get your stories straight and have someone watch Leo. They’ll be here in a few hours but I got a head start on them.”

“Thank you Marcus.”

“I got no worries you two will get outta this one but I’d rather them not catch you off guard and having child services take Leo.”

“You’re a good godfather.” Marcus smiles despite himself patting him on the shoulder. He watches the detective drive off before walking back inside to give the news to Watson.

When he catches her this time, she’s bouncing with Leo across the room humming some pop song that must be stuck in her head. “I heard Marcus.” She says suddenly breaking the moment of peace. “We have a case?”

“I’m afraid not.” His eyes flash to Leo who seems to catch onto his distress furrowing his eyebrows. “Why don’t you play him some music. You’re not going to want him to hear this.” The mood in the room shifts dramatically. Her posture tightens and her movements are sharp, methodical. She flips on a song that is now embedded deep in his brain as it’s played consistently during down times. Honestly how a song about a family of sharks can be so hypnotising to a child is amazing. Leo’s babbling along fills the noise of the background.

“Honestly must it always be that song?” He tries to joke half heartedly.

“Coming from the man who used to constantly change my ringtone to annoy me. Besides, it’s his favorite.” Watson’s smile slips from her face and her arms settle across her chest as she comes to rest in front of him. “What’s going on?” She switches from mommy mode to business mode with ease. It would be one of his favorite things to see if it weren’t for the circumstances.

“Michael Rowan was found beaten to death in his cell.”

“I’d expect you to be relieved.”

“Yes well. I would be if we were not the FBI’s prime suspects.”

Watson shifts off her bad leg, though she mostly doesn’t have the need for crutches anymore he learned it still gets sore if she remains standing in one position for too long. “We have more than enough evidence to prove we were home. The baby monitor, the cameras that I know are still up, and the surveillance outside.”

“Not if they think we hired someone to kill him for us.” Sherlock frowns.

“Even if we wanted to you gave away all your inheritance.” She shrugs. “We’ll dig up the paperwork and that should be more than enough evidence for them to discharge us. I’ll just call Mrs. Hudson and ask her to watch Leo for a bit. We’ll be fine.”

“Not if what she was paid in wasn’t money.”

Watson goes deadly still realization hitting her like a wave. “Sherlock what aren’t you telling me?” She asks in almost a whisper.

“I couldn’t catch a solid lead. Even with your baby monitor hint the judge denied our plea for a warrant was denied. The NYPD, Everyone, I even called my father.”

“Sherlock…”

“Nobody could find a solid lead. After the video I called Moriarty.” Disappointment paints across her face. A look he can’t stand to see on her. “I couldn’t find you. I failed and I panicked. He was going to kill you. I can lose anyone else but not you Watson. Not you.”

Tense silence fills the air and it seems for a few seconds Watson is stuck in time.

“You were right. When Michael took you he took the person I cared about most in the world. He took you right from our home. I should have known. I should have protected you.”

“You couldn’t.” She whispers.

“I should’ve. Instead you were hurt. You suffer from trauma due to a battle between me and another. Your son almost got caught in the crosshairs for god sakes.”

“You’re wrong.” She says after a beat. “I didn’t get stuck in the battle I was fighting on your side the entire time. I helped point out leads. I talked to his best friend. I continued the search while you healed. I didn’t get stuck in the battle I was as much a competitor as he and you. Leo has both of us to protect him. You can’t fill your head with almosts because I caught him and saved our son.” His breath catches in his throat at her words.

“Watson.”

“No, I’m not done.” She cuts him off. “Michael could have gone for any one of us. Gregson, Bell, me, you. We had no way of predicting that any of this would turn out this way. As for Moriarty you know damn well I would have done the same if you were on the other end. You and Leo are everything to me.”

He’s not sure who’s more shocked by his movement Watson or himself, but the next moment he’s gathered her in his arms hugging her tightly to his chest. Neither of them can say for certain how long they stay there soothed by the other’s heartbeat. He feels her shift again when her leg becomes sore once more but she doesn’t pull away. Rather her arms, which at one point had wound themselves around his wiry frame hold closer.

“What do we do now?” She mutters against his chest.

“We pay our deal with the Devil.”

Bà = Dad in Chinese I got inspired while doing baby research and found that “ba” is typically the first sounds a baby makes it only made sense for Leo to assign it to Sherlock. May end up writing more little fluffy oneshots with Leo

[theelectricdiner]