#thomas brackenried

[murdoch-blogs-too]

Jackson: Here you go sir. Nice, hot cup of coffee

Watts: It's cold

Jackson: Nice cup of coffee

Watts: It taste terrible

Jackson: Cup of coffe

Watts: I'm not sure this is even coffe

Jackson: Cup

[murdochmysteriesimagines]

Buried- William Murdoch

Request: Hu I am a huge fan of William Murdoch can you do one where reader gets kidnapped and buried alive and dang it I for got the commanding officers name anyway he and Crabtree act as a distraction so William can find me and he proposes!

Reader is a female

A/N: I diverged somewhat from the original request for in my opinion a better story. Since this idea is already from a existing episode I simply did not want to repeat the script. I hope this was worth the wait.

Setting: Season: 5 Episode: 11

__________________________________

The sight of William’s bare back greets you as your cast away from slumber. Still drowsy your arm snakes out to touch him, the warmth from your fingers a sharp contrast to his almost frozen fresh.

“William, your cold.” Your voice is horsed but the concern is still noticeable.

“I didn’t sleep.” His voice reflects this.

Freeing your upper tourso from the comforter you move behind William. Pressing yourself against his icy skin you provide heat once concealed under the blankets. He barely acknowledges your presence as your head nuzzles into his neck. He remains still.

“Your worried about Gillies.”

“How can I not y/n? He’s out of prison with a personal vendetta against us.”

Your arms tighten around his waist in an attempt to calm William. You know he acts with the weight of the world on his shoulders. It’s your responsibility to try and ease that weight, even if you cannot help him carry it.

“We’ll be fine William. It’s one man against the entire Toronto Constabulary.”

“But that ‘one man’ is a James Gillies.”

You pull him closer to you at the end of the sentence; inhaling his scent and leaving a trail of kisses up William’s neck. This seems to relax your partner as his muscles ease at the touch. “I love you William.” You losen your grip as William turns his body to face you, embracing your soft lips with his own. “I love you too.”

Cold, you were cold. Your body, mind, most likely your breath would be visible if you could see anything. It was almost as if your body was trapped inside a vacuum, dark and freezing; but with stale air lacking circulation. Panic quickly set in, over coming curiosity and pushing away rational thought. Desperate hands clawed at the roof of your chamber. Only inches away from your spot lying down on your back. Skin burned against the wooden surface. Friction causing blood to be drawn in a vain attempt at escape. You cried for him, cried for William, screaming at the top of your lungs for any sole to hear you. No one would reply as you bawled, for no one could hear you. No one would hear you die.

Murdoch’s jaw tightened, hands turning to fists. The man across from him ensighted this level of anger with such ease. Gillies laid back in his chair with a malicious giggle. It was a pleasure to watch the Detective restrain himself. Planing his next move behind a face failing to contain any rage.

“Tell me where she is.” Murdoch’s voice strained against Clenched teeth.

“Come now Detective. You have nothing to hold against me so I have no reason to tell you. Besides, it would ruin the fun.” Murdoch stood at the final remark, slowly edging his way around the table as the criminal continued his laughter.

“This is all a game to you, isn’t it?” He was hovering over him now with Gillies peaking over his shoulder to see the clearly frustrated man.

“A game? Perhaps, but I see it as more of a riddle that you posses all the clues to its solution. Just remember.” Gillies looks away to the wall in front of him “If you can’t solve it. y/n dies.”

The motion was swift and clean.

Murdoch latched onto the back of Gillies skull before pulling back. Violently tugging at his hair as his face was brought into the wooden table. Gillies lifted his head a second after contact, sampling fresh blood on his lips that drained from his broken nose. With a red stain on his front teeth Gillies continued his mad laughter. Getting louder as Murdoch walked out of the room; slamming the door on his abrupt exit.

Crabtree passed a folder to the Inspector. Both men worked from the pair of desks outside the Detective’s office; reviewing any piece of evidence that could give a possible hint to the location of Murdoch’s sweet heart. From inside the office the Detective worked over a recording device with Alexander Graham Bell who agreed to help with the investigation.

Brackenried sighed out of frustration. “We have combed through every piece of information twice over and we’re no closer to a conclusion.”

Crabtree looked up from his transcript of a recorded conversation. “I agree Sir but for the Detectives sake let’s not him that.” He motions to the man through the glass window.

Brackenried ed in closer, hushing his voice as a extra precaution. “We have every available man out there looking. At this point I think Murdoch is the only one who can help her with that recording.”

As if on cue Murdoch jumps out of the office, breathless he leans down on the desks occupied by his colleagues.

“She’s buried, y/n is buried!”

“Murdoch slow down.” Brackenried tries to calm the man to no avail.

“The church where we found Perry and the doll. There were two freshly dug graves. y/n is in one of them.”

Both men stood to join the Detective, Brackenried instructed them to get a carriage immediately. Murdoch rushed off to the exit without hesitation. Crabtree was almost out the door but stopped when he saw the Inspector rummaging through Murdoch’s desk.

Before he had time to question the man was already moving to catch up. When in ear shot Brackenried explained his dubious actions, holding up a small silver case for clarification.

“I saw him hiding this last week.”

Prying the container Brackenreid reveled a shining engagement ring, much to Crabtree’s surprise.

“If she is still alive he’d be a fool not to ask now.”

[murdoch-blogs-too]

Brackenried: listen up you little shits

Brackenried: not you Murdoch

Brackenried: you're an angle and we're thrilled to have you here

[murdoch-blogs-too]

George: Murdoch will you drive me to the mall?

Murdoch: What did the Inspector say?

George: He said no.

Murdoch: Then why should I allow you?

George: because he's not the boss of you

Murdoch: [Internally] this is a trap this is a trap this is a trap

[murdoch-blogs-too]

Brackenried to George: What are you doing

George, bent over a small pot stirring boiling hot water: making holy water

Brackenried: and how is that making holy water

George: I'm boiling the hell outta it

Brackenried:

George: ɢᴇᴛ ɪᴛ

[murdochmysteriesimagines]

Royal Guard- George Crabtree

Request: George as a guard for a princess reader and they hit it off during their downtime

A/N: I decided to leave the country/Empire unnamed for the reader, but to be honest they would most likely be British. Also I did not realize 'hit it off' might be alluding to romantic intentions until I was about half way through, so I made it somewhat both.

___________________________________

Part 1-

The large wooden doors opened, in came three men causing you to look up from your diary. Two of them were older, dressed in suits, one sporting a cane. The younger one closer to your age was in a Constable's uniform. Rising from your chair you move to formally address the men, as a equal and not from the authority of a desk.

"Your highness." The man with the cane is first to speak, giving a bow that the others mimic. The man continues, speaking in a accent like yourself.

"Inspector Brackenreid, Detective Murdoch and Senior Constable Crabtree at your service."

He motions a hand in front of each man as he lists them, clearly trying to make a good first impression.

The Inspector and Detective walk through the plan you already knew by heart. They would oversee the three weeks of events along with your counties ambassador's while Constable Crabtree would act as a personal body bused in both the public and privacy of your hotel room. The man in question hasn't said a word since he laid eyes on you, simply standing at attention while his superiors spoke.

When they finished their speech you respectfully dismiss them, silently growing tired of the formalities. The suited men bid you fair well along with their man before walking out the doors, a loud clang echoing around the luxurious room when they reseal. Turning to the man he stands formally as would a palace guard, you make little effort to hide the annoyance on your face.

"What is your name Constable?"

"Crabtree."

"No your first name, if I am to have a escort it won't be by a stranger." He seemed surprised by your attitude, the blunt nature was often a shock to those who first met you.

Turning away you place yourself on one of the chairs, picking up a book to entertain yourself.

"George your highness." You look up from the novel, slightly more pleased with his flexibility.

"Drop the 'your highness' title and call me y/n George." Simply nodding he responds.

"If you insist."

Part 2-

The doors echo around the room when they close, both you and George let out a sigh siamotainously. Another long day of meetings and events finished, allowing you a brief moment of silence away from the public eye. Over the days of constant contact you warmed up to Crabtree, easily the most likeable guard you had been assigned.

Acting out of exhaustion you undo your hair, letting it fall down your back and take off the jewellery on your neck. Lazily placing the items on a table you lay back into a couch. George following in your steps, taking off his tunic and helmet. Still removing his gloves when he sets on the opposite side of the furniture.

"I must say y/n." George starts when he frees a hand from the white cloth.

"I wasn't looking forward to being a guard but I'm happy to be mistaken."

"I'm glad to hear that. Honestly I was scheming ideas to get away when I found out I would get a guard."

"You dislike body guards that much?"

"Let me answer your question with another. Would you like to be followed around by strangers all day."

"Oh so I'm a stranger now?" George mocks a offended tone, earning a small chuckle from you.

"Honestly George, your the first person I've felt a connection with in this country."

"What do you mean by 'connection'?" George now has a more curious attitude, coupled with his tired nature.

You pause for a moment in an attempt to understand what you meant yourself.

"What I mean is…you're one of the few people, or I guess I should say the only person I could consider a friend."

George attempts to hide the magnitude of joy he feels from that statement. Moving yourself down on to the couch, your head resting on George's lap. His hand quickly running through your hair in small circles.

In this state you surrender to your exhaustion, allowing the security Crabtree provides to protect you as sleep overwhelms your body.

[beingstacey]

Do any Murdoch Mysteries fans have a good screenshot of Brackenreid's poster when he's running for alderman? Or point me in the direction of a good place to find one please?

[justanotherimagines-blog]

What happens when a Chimney Sweep meets Detective William Murdoch while on a job? What happens when Constables Crabtree...

This is the fic I'm writing, its on Wattpad. I might post some chapters on here on Tumblr if I feel like it.