Cuz a small town is like a small stage

AskBox Fic: BBC Sherlock - MollyH&SH

mirabilelectu:

aenonnymoose:

This Post led to Mirabilelectu saying:

“I would give several years of my life to see Molly turn suddenly sassy and bitch Sherlock out.  I don’t think you understand.  I need it.”

As a result, this was left in her askbox:

Molly’s having one of those days. Rude people, Toby coughed up a hairball in her comfiest work shoes, and someone’s botched the paperwork on the last three bodies brought in. Sherlock wants to see two of them, but she has to make sure which is which before he can. The fifth time he comes back with his fourth coffee, and says something implying she’s the one at fault and that anyone with a brain ought to be able to solve the problem, she hears her blood pressure pounding in her ears.

“That’s enough!” Someone snaps – oh, did that come out of her? – and Sherlock’s head rears back slightly, his dark brows rising. His amazing lips part to let something snide out, she’s sure, so she puts her clipboard on the worktop with a loud ‘snack!’ and doesn’t let him get started. “You can either help me sort this or stand back and let me do it in peace. I’m not stupid, I’m not the one who mucked this up, but I am the one who allows you access at all hours when I don’t have to!”

Surprised again, Sherlock’s expression shifts through annoyance briefly to concern. “Molly,” he begins, voice quieter, calming. If she hadn’t been looking right at him, she’d’ve missed it. How often has he done this sort of thing? Doesn’t he know…?

Not wanting to let him talk her ‘round, she puts her index finger in the middle of his chest, cutting him off again. “No. No sweet talking. No games. No more manipulating me. Stop treating me like a… resource and treat me like a person!” Sherlock’s brows start to furrow, anger flashing in his pale eyes, and Molly pokes him in his breastbone, finger bending slightly from the pressure. “None of that, either! You don’t get to be angry at me! I’ve been more patient with you than anyone and you deserve it the least!” Taking a deep breath, she has to lower her voice or he’ll know she’s trembling. “Don’t treat me the way you’d hate people to treat you. If you can’t respect me as a person, respect the help I’m giving you.”

Something in what she says, near the end, seems to click. Molly sees his startled blink and a tiny instant of expression, maybe regret… or not, she’s not sure. Tightening his lips, Sherlock steps back – well, she was poking him pretty hard – and nods. Despite her crush on Sherlock, Molly does see him, his faults as well as his good points. He’s terribly proud, so she doesn’t try to push any further.

“So, if you want to help, fine. Otherwise, why don’t I text you when it’s sorted?”

Glancing at the clipboard, Sherlock snorts, but whatever scathing words pop into his mind, he doesn’t say them. Instead he lifts his chin, saying coolly, “Yes, please do,” and swirls out in his usual fashion.

Molly slumps after a moment, swallows hard, and then covers her mouth as a slightly-hysterical burst of giggles tries to escape.

Later, after she texts him, Sherlock arrives with two coffees. On his way to the cadaver waiting for him, he leaves one of the coffees at her station.

END

~Aenonnymoose

LOOK AT THE AMAZING MOLLY SASS I GOT. LOOK AT IT.

THIS IS SO GOOD

It’s never a good start when you’re debating on bringing a bigger bag to a party so you can fit a book in.

(Source: onedoesnotlovebreathing)

timelordsandtea:

pastwicked:

largerthanlifeus:

consultingskeletontribute:

somesortof-death-frisbee:

imyouraziraphale:

One

two

three

four

I declare

a time war. 

 #five 

#six 

#seven 

#eight 

#daleks scream 

#EXTER-MIN-ATE

Nine,

Ten,

Eleven,

Twelve.

The Doctor died,

and Silence Fell

Twelve,

Eleven,

Ten,

Nine. 

Here he goes,

back in time.

Eight,

Seven,

Six,

Five.

Run, Rose Tyler,

To stay alive.

4,

3,

2,

1.

The story continues,

But the song is done.

Things to do today

dduane:

As the June Bank Holiday weekend begins:

(1) Queue up many things on Tumblr

(2) Make crust for chicken pie

(3) Handle email

(4) Tweet a little

(5) Make filling for chicken pie

(6) Remove cat from filling for chicken pie

(7) Preheat oven

(8) Load up iTunes and queue all available Steve Perry songs

(9) Sing along while rereading, polishing and editing

“I know the sound of each rock and stone; / I embrace what others fear — “

Kit Rodriguez lay sprawled in the gray dirt, staring in shock at the fire-blackened book that had just landed open side down on the ground in front of him. His stomach flipflopped as he realized that very close by, another wizard lay dead.

” — you are not to roam in this forgotten place: / just the likes of me are welcome here — “

Still smoking gently at its charred edges, the other wizard’s manual, a thick, beat-up paperback with a cracked spine, slowly started to vanish. Sheer horrified fascination made it hard for Kit to look away. Only when the manual had finished dissolving into the air did he manage to swallow. His mouth was bone dry, not just because of all the dust flying around, and his heartbeat was hammering in his ears. It was amazing how loud your own heart sounded in these conditions, especially when it might shortly stop without warning…

” — Everything breathes / and I know each breath: / it’s enough for this man — “

…A few hundred meters in front of him, an inward-arrowing glint of ferociously unfiltered sunlight flashed off the narrow shape of yet another of the nasty projectiles that had been making Kit’s life so interesting for the last ten minutes or so. Hurriedly he shoved his face down into the dirt again, and the incoming missile shot by right over Kit’s head, literally within a yard or so of the top of his scalp —

” — Like every tree / stands on its own — “

Under the circumstances he couldn’t feel it by air pressure, but its passage pushed his personal shield down harder onto his skull. This wasn’t the kind of sensation any wizard in his right mind would take lightly, no matter how confident he was about his shielding – and Kit was a lot less confident about it than he’d been just half an hour ago —

“Reaching for the sky I stand alone — “

He held still, waiting for the explosion from behind him. For several long moments nothing happened. Then everything rocked. The ground underneath Kit actually rippled, breaking apart in chunks along spiderweb cracks as the blast wave from the missile’s explosion burst through it — “

“I share my world / with no one else — “

In the blast wave’s wake, the air inside the larger bubble of Kit’s secondary shield instantly filled with kicked-up grey-white dust that obscured everything, as if he’d suddenly been teleported into the center of a frosted lightbulb. He concentrated on not breathing until the shaking stopped and the dust started to settle.

Kit? Kit!!…

“All by myself / I stand alone…”

(10) Oven finishes preheating. Brush crust of pie with egg white.

(11) Trip over cat while putting pie in oven. Swear. Give cat milk.

(12) Wander back into office. Go back to work.

“Foolish heart, hear me callin’; / Stop before you start fallin’ …”

…Business as usual.

i feel like my life is a constant state of YW withdrawal. It’s not a fandom i obsess about or read fic in or anything, but i could never get bored or frustrated like “oh i already know what happens” when i read these.

Also “(11) Trip over cat while putting pie in oven. Swear. Give cat milk.” ♥