It was plain to Greg that there was more there, secrets Mycroft was keeping. But he knew better than to push or ask. “But you still lost him. Sherlock still jumped off that roof.”
Mycroft looked towards the fire. “Do you know how many times I expected him to turn up dead when he was using? That brilliant mind of his and he was burning it up. He knew I kept an eye on him, but there were still times he gave my people the slip. And the more I pushed him to get clean, the greater he resented me.”
Greg moved towards him. “All of that and this was how he ended up,” he said softly, biting back the ‘I’m sorry’ that sounded shallow even in his own mind.
Mycroft nodded. “I remember when he was brought home from hospital as a newborn,” he said to the fireplace. “So small. They didn’t want me to hold him, afraid I would drop him. I promised I never would.”
Reaching Mycroft, Greg took the glass from his hand, watching the man who was his lover and his friend. “I know, it’s not fair.”
He shook his head and looked away. Greg could see the tremble in his shoulders through the thin material of his pyjama shirt. Silently he set the glass on the mantle and wrapped a strong arm around him, holding Mycroft against his chest, resting his head against his shoulder.
Mycroft knows Sherlock is alive, Greg believes he’s dead and has taken Mycroft away for a weekend to try and get him to deal with the loss. I feel like this shows the depth of Mycroft’s care for Sherlock, and also Greg’s care for Mycroft. And the trust between Mycroft and Greg.
9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?
That’s a difficult question. I’m gonna go with Mistakes We Made, just because it’s dubcon between John and Sherlock. Had a bit of trouble with Trust You With the Air I Breathe, just because breathplay isn’t my thing and I made sure I researched it.
22. Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. (Person sending the ask is free to make suggestions).
This should be interesting, but let’s try. I’ve written well over 500k since I started and I know I’ve changed a lot. This is rewritten from Winter Boredom at Baker Street. (Gunplay below if that bothers anyone)
“Bored,” muttered Sherlock, staring up at the ceiling. John grit his teeth. It had been far too long since a case. The weather outside was sleeting and cold, preventing him from taking a walk and making his knee ache. Sherlock lay on the couch, fingers steepeled on his chest. The dressing gown was open despite the chill. “John,” he repeated himself, “Bored.”
That was enough. John got up from his computer and headed up to his room. He had an idea. One that Sherlock probably wasn’t expecting from him, but truth be told, it was something he’d wanted to try for a while. Sherlock was just as adventurous in the bedroom as he was in the rest of his life, but they hadn’t done this.
Taking his gun out of the drawer, John quickly emptied the clip and checked to make sure the chamber was empty. Then checked again after sliding the clip home. Breath coming shorter now, he peeled off his jumper, leaving himself in a white shirt and jeans. He gave himself a short nod as he put the gun in the back of his waistband and returned downstairs.
Sherlock hadn’t moved, but John felt his eyes tracking him. He crossed the sitting room and climbed on top of Sherlock, straddling his waist. A faint smile crossed Sherlock’s face and his hands dropped to his sides. “John?”
Before he could change his mind, John pulled the gun from behind him and placed the barrel against the underside of Sherlock’s chin. Sherlock’s eyes dialted and his breath nearly stopped. John figured Sherlock would know right away it was empty, but he’d seen the way Sherlock watched him when he handled his gun.
“You said you’re bored, Sherlock?” John’s hands were steady as his voice. Sherlock merely watched. “Maybe you’d like to suck my gun?”
LOOK at this fucking gorgeous masterpiece that I commissioned from @willietheplaidjacket. I’m crying, it’s so beautiful.
I asked her to illustrate one of my favorite scenes in one of my favorite fics, the Letters series, by @earlgreytea68 (I did get permission). Here is the excerpt, from the Letters, Resolved section, chapter 7:
John thought that he wasn’t sure he could ever get Sherlock to understand how humbled he felt by being given the gift of Sherlock the way he was with John, the way he was with no one else, Sherlock in all the vulnerable simplicity at the heart of his complexity, and John lifted his arms and tightened them around Sherlock, pressing him as close as he could get.
“What’s wrong?” asked Sherlock, surprised, wriggling a bit in the new grip.
“I am going to love you for the rest of our lives,” John promised him, roughly. “I’m going to make you laugh. I’m going to make sure you’re never bored. I’m going to keep you safe.”
Sherlock was silent for a moment beforeshaking off John’s grip just enough to pull himself up and align them so he could look down at John’s face. He spent a long moment just studying John, and then he repeated back, “I am going to love you for the rest of our lives. I’m going to make you laugh. I’m going to make sure you’re never bored. I’m going to keep you safe.”
John flickered a smile at him. “Well, that’s that then. All settled.”
The drawing is the bolded part. LOOOOK AT ITTTTTT.
I’m so fucking done, I don’t even know. The eye contact, my god. I’m a puddle.
Willie’s art is so freaking gorgeous it makes me tear up just looking at it.
