camillekaze:

I have a confession to make, Tumblr…..

I really, really like Sherlock whump fics.  I dunno, I feel bad about it, but I also don’t.

((It’s not quite time travel, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t work it in with the fic length! =.= I hope you enjoy it anyway.))

They all assume things about her. The shy one, sitting in the corner, awkward and nervous and mooning after Sherlock Holmes. She must be antisocial, find others boring, be lost in her own world, chasing after the man she can’t have.

They don’t bother to ask. If they did, they might learn about the father that died, the mother she nursed through depression. About the endless paper rounds and Saturday jobs she put herself through to get to university, to where she is now. If they asked, they might actually learn something about Molly Hooper, and that would never do.

“Sherlock! It is you, isn’t it? Nice t’see you, kid.” There’s a man across the other side of the police station, and he’s shouting.
Do you know him?” asks John, just seconds before Donovan drags the man over to demand the same thing.
“Yes,” says Sherlock tightly.
“He’s m’son, aren’t you?” adds the man cheerfully, an unpleasant edge to his voice. “What’s it this time, Sherl? Drugs? Theft? Guns?”
“I’m helping,” snaps Sherlock. “I’m helping.”
“Ooh, aren’t you moving up in the world?” asks Sherlock’s dad, and John can’t remember the last time he wanted to punch someone this badly.

The number of people who are aware that John Watson, at the tender age of fourteen, knows how to hotwire a care is zero. The same as the number of people who know that he can pick locks and use his dad’s air rifle, that he owns a knife and two switchblades. It’s not like he ever does anything – never steals, never always returns the cars he drives, has never used the knives on anyone – but it’s the thrill of it, the adrenaline. Knowing he could, if he wanted to, and that no one would be able to stop him.

When it finally clicks, the world seems to slow, jerk and shudder like a scratched DVD as it struggles to reassert itself, to align itself with reality again. Sherlock. Sherlock is not here, Sherlock is going after Moriarty, Sherlock is going to do something stupid, Sherlock is, Sherlock is-

It feels like the traffic’s never crawled slower, like he’s never been stuck in a cab for longer, and when he stumbles out of it as it finally, finally reaches St. Barts his heart feels like it’s trying to tear its way out of his chest. And then he looks up-

artbykira:

Ready for a fight
Before I make the final sacrifice 

Hi hi hello sorry for not updating much BUT I AM ALIVE and here is a well-deserved Molly Hooper appreciation post because she’s amazing
if you don’t like molly you are wrong