#salcroft

[afteriwake]

Sherlock, The Adorable Drunk (A "The Copper & The Bureaucrat" Story)

So the series is generally going to be Sally/Mycroft-centric, but I couldn't resist dropping this Sally & Sherlock friendship fic here. enjoy the fluff!

Sherlock, The Adorable Drunk - Sally attempts to rally Sherlock to go see his fiancee since he misses her and she misses him. But a drunken Sherlock is rather like a small child, and just as much of an adorable handful.

READ @ AO3 | SERIES PAGE

Sally looked down at the drunken pile that was her boyfriend’s brother. It was his stag night, just like it was Molly’s hen night, but he’d been miserable without molly and Sally had volunteered to arrange a meeting between the two of them and pick the drunken sod up.

Silly git, she thought to herself with a smile as she knelt next to him. “Oi! Molly wants to see you,” she said, pushing him gently and hoping he’d sit up so she could maneuver him into the waiting car.

“Beautiful Sally, my favorite avenging angel,” he said when he opened his eyes. “Come to rescue me.”

She flushed slightly at Sherlock calling her beautiful, but mercifully he sat up, draping his long arms over his knees. “Can you stand up?”

“Mycroft is a lucky man, Sals. If I didn’t have Molly, you’d be my choice. Beautiful, smart, practical Sally.”

“You're drunk!” she said with a laugh, sitting down on the ground and looking at him. Sherlock would date her if she wasn’t with his brother? Not in a million years!

“Yes, I'm drunk. And you're beautiful. And tomorrow morning I'll be sober…but you'll still be beautiful.” He reached over and bopped her nose. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what, Sherlock?” she asked, giving up on getting him up until he said his peace and sitting on the ground across from him, criss-crossing her legs.

“You deserved better than how I treated you. You’re smart! And you’re a good listener, and a good friend to Molly. I treated you like shite. And you’re not mad anymore.”

“Well, I treated you like shite in return,” she said, tilting her head to study him. “But you grew up, Sherlock, and so did I. And we’re friends now.”

“Good friends?” he asked, looking as though he’d start crying if she disagreed with him.

“Very good friends. But I love Mycroft, and you love Molly. And you’re getting married to her! In three days!” She reached over and grasped his shoulders, one hand on each shoulder to steady him. “If I marry your brother, you can be my man of honor, and Molly can be his best woman.”

Now tears were edging Sherlock’s eyes. “You mean that?”

“I absolutely do. Or you can be the man of honor and the best man, and Molly can be the best woman and my matron of honor. You can switch sides in the middle of the ceremony. Spice things up.”

“Okay,” Sherlock said, beaming widely at her. “Do I have to wear a dress?”

“Only if you don’t outshine me,” she said, “Now, can you get up? Molly misses you, too. And she’d love to see you sappy and happy.”

“Okay,” he said. She let go of his shoulders and stood up, bracing herself before offering him a hand. Wobbly as he was walking he didn’t seem to feel ill or wobble too much, and soon enough they were at the car where Molly was waiting. “Home, Sally?”

“Yeah, I’ll take you both home,” Sally said with a soft smile as she saw Molly give her a grateful look in the rear view mirror. Say what you would about Sherlock, he was one adorable drunk.

[strangedreamings]

(2nd request for this prompt) Santa is real - Holmes brothers, ships up to you

Just A Little Nudge (AO3)

Mycroft was at his desk, reading the transcript of a conversation between one of his men and an informant when there was a knock on the door. He closed the transcript then looked up from his laptop. “Yes?”

The door opened and Mr. Nichols, the new custodian, pushed his cart into the room. “Sorry, Mr. Holmes. I thought everyone had gone home by now.”

“It’s alright,” Mycroft said as he turned back to his laptop. “I’ll leave in an hour or so.”

“Christmas is a few days away,” the old man said, “shouldn’t you spend your evenings with your loved ones?”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “I will see my parents and brother on Christmas Day.”

“But no one before then?” When Mycroft gave him a questioning look, he added, “I just think no one should be alone this time of year.” He looked down at the floor. “What’s this?” He stooped to retrieve something then laid it on the desk.

It was a business card. When Mycroft picked it up, he realized it was Sally Donovan’s card. She must have dropped it the last time she was here. He could admit to no one but himself that he found the newly-minted detective inspector intriguing, exasperating, and attractive.

He looked up at the custodian. “Er, thank you, Mr. Nichols. I believe I will stop for the night; the rest can wait until morning.”

“Good idea, sir,” he said, his evergreen-colored eyes dancing with delight. “I’ll clean one of the other offices first, give you a chance to shut everything down. Happy Holidays.” He pushed the cart out the door and closed it behind him.

“To you as well,” Mycroft said absently, his eyes once more on the business card.

***

That same night, Sherlock lay in bed, unable to get his brain to stop racing enough to let him sleep. He had just wrapped up a case that John said he was going to call “The Rankled Fan” and after three days of not sleeping, it was time to crash.

Or it would be, if I could just stop THINKING! Not knowing what else to do, he got up and threw his suit jacket on over his aubergine dress shirt and trousers since he hadn’t bothered getting undressed. Putting on his Belstaff and scarf on the way out the door, he decided to try to find someone, anyone, who he could bum a cigarette off of, but at that late hour, the streets were mostly deserted.

His mind wasn’t so lucky – it was full, as it always was when he wasn’t on a case, of Molly Hooper.

Molly, the woman he’d kept at arm’s length for so long that he’d lost her.

Molly, the woman he’d told in a moment of complete clarity that he loved, only to lie to her after that he didn’t mean it that way.

Molly, the woman who could see the truth in his eyes, knew he couldn’t be the man she needed, and left.

But she didn’t go far, did she, Sherlock? Moriarty’s voice teased in his head. She didn’t leave London, she didn’t even leave Bart’s, she just left your little circle.

And now my circle, my heart, is without its center, Sherlock thought. He was so deep in his head that he bumped into someone.

“Careful, son,” the old man said, laughing a bit. “Can’t have you barreling over everyone in sight.”

Sherlock looked at him and the deductions came quickly. Salesman, no, no, he’s in shipping. Very busy this time of year. Woodworker, though mostly as a hobby these days. Married, no children, but loves kids. He shook his head a bit to clear it. “Sorry, lost in thought.”

“Don’t worry, it happens to everyone. Now, do you happen to know of a place selling flowers at this time of night? I disappointed my wife and I want to apologize. Of course, not disappointing her again is more important than the apology, and I’ll try to do that too, but the apology comes first.”

Sherlock blinked in surprise. “Er, right. The shops are closed now, but you can get her flowers tomorrow morning.”

The man nodded, his evergreen-colored eyes smiling. “That’s what I’ll do then, thank you.” He held out his hand. “Happy Holidays, Mr. …?”

“Sherlock Holmes,” he said, shaking the man’s hand. “And you are?”

The old man grinned. “Just call me Nick Cole.”

Sherlock nodded. “Happy Holidays, Mr. Cole. I hope it works out with your wife.”

“Thank you, and I hope everything works out for you.” He walked away, whistling “Jingle Bells.”

It took Sherlock less than a heartbeat to make a decision then he hailed a cab. Giving the driver Molly Hooper’s address, he could only pray that he wasn’t too late.

[sherlockrarepairs]

Mycroft Holmes Fic Rec !!　　[part 2]　

Because sometimes, we all just need a little more Mycroft!

⬡　My Conflict Kills, by Cutebutpsycho [rated G]

(Mycroft/Sally Donovan) Why he picked her, Sally would never understand, but it was nice. She knew he wanted someone honorable on his side, and he had slowly seduced her over to him. Being a smart man, he was also careful not to discuss his work nor ask her about hers. They were in a bubble -- a carefully tended sanctuary that would eventually pay off for the both of them.

⬡　As the Stars of Heaven: Holmesian Reproductive Strategies, by Tammany [rated T]

(Mycroft/Greg Lestrade) Some concerns are unavoidable for responsible middle-aged men of a certain style and dignity. Mycroft's got to decide what to do about the estate and inheritance and all those good and worthy family sorts of things, given he and Sherlock have no offspring. Family planning the Holmesian way. This is not Holmescest/incest, barring a few mild and tasteless jokes.

⬡　The Making of Mycroft Holmes, by Herk [rated G]

(Gen) Little scenes from Mycroft's and Sherlock's childhood that explain at least partly why the British government is the man he is today.

Mummy Holmes isn't exactly a bad mother but sometimes parents can be thoughtlessly cruel when they don't see how much their child would need them at that moment.

⬡　Flu Humbug, by HastaLux [rated T]

(Mycroft/Greg Lestrade) Mycroft is sick with the flu and being overly dramatic about it. Greg comes up with a creative way to make him feel better.

⬡　Vermillion, by Cutebutpsycho [rated T]

(Mycroft/Sally Donovan) “Sally Donovan is in love?” he sang out the word love. “My brother is in love? The man who wears isolation like armor?”

⬡　The Importance of Uncle Rudy, by Lavender_and_Vanilla [rated G]

(Gen) Mycroft Holmes's Uncle Rudy helped make him the man he is today.

⬡　The Habits of a Lifetime, by out_there [rated M]

(Mycroft/Greg Lestrade) The idea of Sherlock and Eurus connecting over music, over anything, is terrifying. Mycroft has spent decades watching over Sherlock, talking about their fictional family dog and the myth of the east wind, trying to protect Sherlock from the things he doesn’t remember. He’s worried about Sherlock and stood guard over Eurus, and been worse than useless in the end. He was complicit. While he thought he was juggling both threats, maintaining enough control over the situation to keep everyone safe (mostly Sherlock, but the rest of the world as well), he had allowed the threat to escalate. 

In which Mycroft is not an easy man to know and an even harder one to look after. Fortunately, Lestrade is diligent and determined, and knows how to pay attention to people. Where family comes with obligations, but it also cares, even when you don't want them around. Where life mostly goes as expected, but sometimes has unanticipated joys.

[mousedetective]

#7 and 8 for the sappy lines, please? Thank you!

No Longer Cold As Ice

The first words she had ever said to him, after watching a (she suspected) Sherlock in withdrawal punch him across the face were “Can I touch you?”

She’d heard from Greg all about Sherlock’s elder brother, how he had a personality cold as ice to the world but if you knew him you knew how deeply he cared and all. She’d approached Mycroft cautiously while Greg had shuttled Sherlock out of the room with a few not so gentle shoves, leaving her and The Ice Man alone with him having a cut under his eye. When she asked her question, he’d seemed so surprised and simply nodded.

No other words were said that day. She got out the first aid kit under Greg’s top drawer, cleaned Mycroft’s cut and attempted to put a small butterfly bandage on and getting a shake of the head in response. And then he nodded, gave her the smallest of small smiles, and left the office to go…who knew where.

Now, though, things were different. Now she would listen to him talk about the things he could as they puttered around the kitchen that used to resemble a cave in his home, now filled with warm light and food and laughter. Now she would rest her head on his chest and doze while he stayed up late to go over whatever crisis the government and the country needed to be saved from.

And now, every time they were alone, he would ask “Can I kiss you?” in a way that made her smile brightly, a smile that hadn’t been on her face often in those intervening years between their first encounter and now, a smile she would wear as she nodded and he leaned in to kiss her in so many different ways.

And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

super sappy lines prompt list

[sundance201]

I'm gonna be cleaning my house this weekend, which really means I will be looking for distractions from cleaning my house this weekend. Prompt me? :p I think some prompt lists I've been interested in are tagged "writing woes" but don't limit yourself. I'm taking any sort of prompt. Anything. Go crazy. Check out tags for pairings I'm willing to write, but again, not limited.

[strangedreamings]

I decided my Sherlolly and Salcroft fic Just A Little Nudge needed a cover.

[afteriwake]

Jam Session (1/12)

So, this is one of my more popular Sherlolly WIPs, and it got art by the lovely @manonsoubeyran​ which I love. Eventually I’ll see if there’s a proper Tumblr post I can reblog with all the art to give them credit, but I hope to also add the art to the AO3 page. But please enjoy the lovely art for this lovely fic that was originally written for @chitarra10 and @justatrashpanda!

Jam Session - Molly Hooper is known for making some of the best baked goods in all of England, and no one knows what her secret is. Her most popular dish is her Jam Tartlets, and it’s a recipe she shares with absolutely no one, not even those who work in her shop. When a new resident arrives in the village, an apiarist named Sherlock Holmes, they begin an exchange: some of her special jams in exchange for his honey. But what starts as a simple trade of sweet foodstuffs becomes so much more when Molly’s shop is broken into and ransacked by someone looking for the secret recipe.

READ CHAPTER 1 | HELP ME SURVIVE? | COMMISSION ME? | BUY ME A KOFI?

“Oh my God,” Molly said, drawing out the last word as the sweetest, most lovely tasting honey she’d ever had touched her lips. “Mary, love, where did you get this?”

“My boyfriend’s neighbour,” Mary said, watching with a grin as Molly used her finger to wipe the sticky sweet residue off her bottom lip and then suck it off her finger. “He’s an apiarist, apparently. Wanted to give John a preemptive apology for having a beehive or three in the back by handing over some honey. I mean, John didn’t even realize anyone lived there, to be frank. He keeps to himself.”

“And I can have the whole jar?” Molly asked.

Mary nodded. “John says you have to keep him in Jam Tartlets for a week but yeah. Three jars, all yours.”

“Three jars?” Molly said with an excited squeak. “All this size?” Mary nodded. “Tell John he’s my first ever customer of the month and that entitles him to a month of biscuits on the house. Baker's dozen whenever he comes in.” She hesitated a moment, then dipped a fresh spoon into the honey and had some more. “Definitely wild clover, I can taste a hint of that, but the rest...I’m at an utter loss.”

“Well, perhaps the neighbour will share his recipe?” Mary asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the worktop. “Offer him some of your baked goods in exchange for a few jars every so often.”

Molly tilted her head as she thought about it. They weren’t far outside of London, in a small village called Bozeat, but Molly had a country-wide renown for her biscuits and other baked goods. She even got mail orders from Scotland and Ireland from time to time, though she drew a line at shipping out to the States. She’d even once made an assortment of her famous Jam Tartlets for the Queen, which had gained her quite a bit of notoriety and a continuous purchase order delivered to one Mycroft Holmes at the palace. She had the feeling the order was doubled simply so Mr. Holmes could have some, as he seemed to be pleased every time Mary dropped off an order, or so she had said.

But if he’d share what made his honey so special, he might want to have a peek at her recipes, and that...well, that was something she wasn’t prepared to do, to be quite frank. That recipe, among others, was the backbone of her livelihood. Not even Mary or Sally, her other baker on staff, knew what was in it. She made the special dough at night to let it rest and then the jam concoctions in the morning and baked them herself. It meant extra work, but to keep it a secret then that was what she was prepared to do.

“As long as he doesn’t ask for mine,” she said.

Mary’s grin faded a bit. “That rat bastard James still sniffing around?”

Molly nodded. James Moriarty was a prominent businessman in London who had taken a shine to her baking and tried to form a partnership with her. When the direct approach hadn’t worked, a man in his employ, Tom Robertson, had integrated himself into her personal life. It had only been a tip from an anonymous source to tell her what was what and Tom was promptly kicked to the curbside.

Tom had thankfully left the village with his tail between his legs, but James just would not give up, it seemed.

“I tell you, we need to ask for a gun on premises to shoot vermin and then I should aim it towards his arse. Maybe one shot each cheek?” Mary said.

Molly giggled and then regretfully recapped the honey. “Don’t go giving me any ideas,” she said. “No, we’ll sort it all out, one way or another.” She nodded towards the package meant for delivery. “I think Mr. Holmes is due his treats soon, don’t you?”

“You know, I wonder if Her Majesty actually eats half of these,” Mary said, pushing herself away from the worktop. “You should have Sally start delivering them, though.”

“Oh?” Molly asked.

“Yeah. She did a run for me about a fortnight ago and he’s asked for her last week,” Mary said. “I think he’s smitten.”

Molly considered for a moment, then went to the door leading to the on-site kitchen. “Sal!” she called out.

“Yeah?” Sally called back.

“Feel like making a delivery run to London? Someone’s been asking for you.”

Sally came out, flour smudges on her face, her eyes wide. “Mycroft?”

“So you’re on a first name basis,” Mary said with a smirk.

“Well, I took his last order and...we might have dinner if I’m there?” Sally said, blushing slightly.

“Oh, then you definitely need to take the delivery,” Molly said with a smile. “You may want to tidy up first, though.”

Sally’s eyes went wider than before and went to look at the nearest reflective surface. “Oh, my Lord…I’m a mess.”

“We’ll get you all lovely before he sees you,” Mary said, clapping a hand on her back. “And then when we’re done I’ll cover the shop and Molly can go procure us more honey.”

“What’s this apiarist’s name?” Molly asked, eyeing the honey.

“Sherlock something or other,” Mary said. With that, she and Sally went to the back stairs leading to the upstairs flat where Molly lived. Molly eyed the honey again, and then unscrewed the top of the jar and took one last spoonful. Sherlock? A name which sounded as sweet on her tongue as his honey did. Hopefully, she could be just as sweet...

[afteriwake]

Jam Session (12/12) - NEW CHAPTER

And here is the final chapter, with happy endings for all. This lovely fic that was originally written for @chitarra10 and @justatrashpanda with art by the lovely @manonsoubeyran​​. 

I hope all of you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And if you enjoyed the art for this and “My Chosen Queen, To Rule By My Side” as much as I did, drop by and let @manonsoubeyran know! She worked hard on it all and deserves some love too. You can also follow her at AO3 here and FFN here.

Jam Session - Molly Hooper is known for making some of the best baked goods in all of England, and no one knows what her secret is. Her most popular dish is her Jam Tartlets, and it’s a recipe she shares with absolutely no one, not even those who work in her shop. When a new resident arrives in the village, an apiarist named Sherlock Holmes, they begin an exchange: some of her special jams in exchange for his honey. But what starts as a simple trade of sweet foodstuffs becomes so much more when Molly’s shop is broken into and ransacked by someone looking for the secret recipe

.READ CHAPTER 1 | READ CHAPTER 12 | HELP ME SURVIVE? | COMMISSION ME? | BUY ME A KOFI?

One Year Later

She looked around Sherlock’s cottage and saw that her additions to it fit in rather well. She had never thought she’d leave her small home behind the shop, but after the court cases had been settled and the hoopla around James Moriarty’s criminal cases had settled, they’d realized they needed a bigger shop. Rather than move from the location they’d been at since she was a child, she was having the shop expanded back to where her home was.

Or rather, had been. It had been torn down last week to make the ground ready to expand the kitchens and put in a proper office and break room and some other things, now that there were more employees than just herself and Mary and Sally. They now had another baker on staff who helped with everything other than the Jam Tartlets, which were still made by the three of them, and two teenagers who worked part-time on the register and packaging up mail orders.

She’d moved in with Sherlock two weeks earlier, and as of today, they were baking at a temporary location while the construction was going on. But they had taken a break to attend the wedding between Sally and Mycroft in London, and it had been a wonderfully lavish affair. Sally had pulled her and Mary aside and told them she was pregnant, so Molly had congratulated her while in her head trying to sort out how to work things out so Sally could spend more time at the second shop they had opened in London so she could be closer to her now-husband. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to find another partner for the London shop and share the Jam Tartlets recipe with them…

But for now, she was enjoying the afterglow of such a lovely event, and business was the last thing on her mind right now as Sherlock embraced her from behind, resting his chin on her head. “So I’ll be an uncle in a few months,” he said.

“Yes,” Molly said. “I think you’ll be a good uncle at that.”

“And a father?” he asked.

She pulled out of his embrace and looked at him, eyes wide. “How did you…?”

“We’ve spent more time together than not,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But you are pregnant, aren’t you?”

“Well, this wasn’t how I wanted you to find out, but yes.” She tilted her head. “Are you happy?”

“I am,” he said. “I can’t think of anyone I’d want to have a child or a long life with.”

“So we’ll tell them all later?” she asked, moving towards him again to hug him.

He nodded. “About the pregnancy, the engagement, all of it. Let Sally and my brother have the limelight for a bit. We can wait. We’re patient.”

“About some things,” Molly said before pulling his face down for a heated kiss. He took the meaning well and then lifted her up into his arms as she pulled away from the kiss, laughing. Life was full of so many surprises, so many twists and turns, but she was happy, so very happy, and for everything that led to this moment, she was grateful.