adamnedsoldier

/ bonjour im back

REICHENSFALLS

sherlock had been . . .  wrong. it was a ridiculously humbling realisation that struck him upon returning to london and finding john prepared to propose to a woman at an expensive restaurant. even then, he had persisted, but in the end, he was not prone to denial. things were / not / going to magically return to normal. there was no longer any 221b with john watson, and by association, 221b had grown dark as a bottomless pit. though he was insistent on not letting  it show, especially not to john. john, who was getting married and who had asked / sherlock / to be his best man, and how could he refuse? which was how he'd ended up in this situation, sitting cross-legged alone on the sitting room floor, folding a varying degree of serviettes. an indeterminate amount of time had passed, the movements becoming muscle memory, when sherlock finally heard a familiar tread on the stairs. too absorbed in his process, he didn't bother looking up, though his shoulders did tense.

adamnedsoldier

@REICHENSFALLS ;
            
            john was an idiot when compared to his friend but a lot of people underestimated him, especially when it came to said friend. in the two years without sherlock were two of the worst years of his life. a crippling loneliness after years of adrenaline and the chase hit him harder than his return back from afghanistan but then mary came along and things fell back into place. yet there was still a gap. something didn’t feel right when sherlock made his return but john did his best to look past that. with the wedding around the corner and a new chapter of his life starting, he wanted to try and mold the broken piece to fit a little better. 
            
            john sighed as he looked at the familiar gold knocker of his home and felt the corner of his lip quirk upwards as all the memories of their adventures came back. ‘oscillation on the pavement suggests love affair’ he chuckled as he heard his flatmates voice in the memory, missing the past and felt like he’d broken up with a life that won’t be the same. he shook his head briefly and pushed the door open, making his way up the stairs. he dragged his finger along the wall paper as the memories continued to flood his mind. “sherlock, you’ve not been answering my calls or texts actually- oh, you’ve been busy,” john hesitated and looked over the sea of napkins, he didn’t miss the way that sherlocks shoulders tensed either.
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lNTELLECTUS

Family gatherings. Sherlock had never liked them. Once, when he was twelve, he attempted to set the shrubbery on fire to halt the "festivities". He was caught by an uncle he had never met and his mother scolded him. He smiled to himself as he recalled it and sipped on his tea. Rosie had been asleep on his chest and he'd been reclining on the sofa in the living room. He ignored the chatter and bustle around him, friends of his parents and family he didn't know well all mingling and drinking. He supposed it was inevitable, the domestication of his life. Partner, child, commonly quiet days. That's how a man dies his first death, he thought. He didn't mind this death. Not all that much.

lNTELLECTUS

/ i'll be Geoff :D
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lNTELLECTUS

@adamnedsoldier 
            
            Sherlock was partly surprised that Lestrade would be joining them. Would they be sleeping there as well? Mycroft would probably sleep at the inn. He always did. If he even slept, that was. The vampire of a man he was, Sherlock sometimes wondered if he did human things at all. Sherlock watched as his mother cooed and took Rosie from Mycroft to go clean her up, and offered her a smile as she walked off.
            
            Sherlock moved to hold John properly and kissed his head. He hummed thoughtfully and leaned into the kiss to his jaw and went to respond when Mycroft made a noise of disgust. He chuckled and turned to look at his brother, "they don't kiss. They stare at eachother until Mycroft can't stand the contact anymore and Lestrade goes home."
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adamnedsoldier

@lNTELLECTUS ;
            
            “If you’d have bothered to talk to me before you shrieked out of the window, you would have known that Gregory will be here tonight. He’s going to be  here shortly, in fact.” Mycroft sighed, pulling Rosie off his shoulders and held her in his arms, looking down at her with a disapproving expression, “how does one get so sticky?”
            
            “Yeah,” John hummed, smiling a little turned his head into Sherlocks neck. “It’s been ages since we’ve spent any sort of time together that’s not been case related. Your parents want to spend time with Rosie so we should take advantage of that and have some child free time. We can do whatever you want,” He smiled and pressed a kiss to his jawbone, rolling his eyes when Mycroft made a noise of disgust. “Don’t act like you and Greg don’t kiss, what are you? Three?” He glanced at him, teasing a smile.
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lNTELLECTUS

/ the best John on the planet right here ♡♡♡

TheFatalWoman

@adamnedsoldier 
            
            /* ❤️❤️❤️❤️
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lNTELLECTUS

@TheFatalWoman / glad you agree
            @adamnedsoldier / ♡♡♡
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adamnedsoldier

/ you guys :’)
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TheFatalWoman

"John?" Lorna asked as she took down Christmas decorations before pausing under a mistletoe and grinned a little, calling out for her boyfriend, feeling a little cheeky and playful as she waited for him.

TheFatalWoman

@adamnedsoldier 
            
            Lorna grinned softly as she rocked back and forth on her heels like a child, her eyes bright before looking at Rosie lovingly, stroking her hair. "Hello my little love," before looking up at John with adoration, he was the perfect father, and she reached over kissing him ever so softly. "Love you," smiling, her beautiful eyes full of adoration for him.
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adamnedsoldier

@TheFatalWoman ;
            
            John was cradling Rosie, humming softly to her when Lorna called. “Yep?” He walked through to see her, tilting his head at the look on her face before glancing up. “Oh- I think you owe me something then, my love.” He grinned.
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posiemunds

“ i’ve taken the liberty of naming the severed head in the fridge .  you’re welcome . ”

adamnedsoldier

@posiemunds ;
            
            “sherlock will not,” he scoffed, looking across to his daughter. “this is not the sort of things i need to be seeing in the house. this is not the sort of thing that should even be /in/ the house. please, rosie, leave it in the morgue.”
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posiemunds

“ ugh , fine ! ” rosamund groans , rolling her eyes . “ sherlock will just bring another one home . ”
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adamnedsoldier

@posiemunds <3
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adamnedsoldier

John sat and tried to plait Rosie’s shoulder length blonde her to satisfy her obsession with Disneys Frozen. He huffed as he kept losing a strand of hair and pulled back, furrowing his brows as he looked down at his daughter. She looked so much like Mary, it was a painful reminder of the best and worst mistake of his life. He’d met the woman that saved him and gave him a family but she tried to take away the man that gave him a reason to live in the first place. 
          
          It had been three years since Mary passed away and whilst John still had his bad days, he was moving on and accepting it. He glanced over at Sherlock who was reading some book on tobacco ash and smiled lovingly. No matter how much life threw at them, Sherlock would always stay by his side and helped raise his daughter. 
          
          It was about two years after Mary’s death when the two had confessed their love to each other. They had been out drinking with Greg and they’d stumbled home together, collapsing on the stairs again like they had on the stag night. It started when John asked Sherlock about himself, what he looked for in a relationship; Sherlock being as drunk as he was, described John. It was unmistakable. John decided to try and test the waters by asking some more questions whilst he had the liquid confidence to do so. He also asked Sherlock out on a date and put it in the calendar so he wouldn’t forget or back out. It took them a while to build up their trust in each other again after Mary, but when they did it was like nothing else had ever happened. 
          
          @lNTELLECTUS

lNTELLECTUS

@adamnedsoldier 
            
            Sherlock listened as John spoke, still trying to purge the images of the victims from his mind. It could have been his daughter there. On that floor, hacked to pieces. He inhaled sharply then closed the water. "I'm safe, John. Safer than I was. I have my own bulletproof vest, my own firearm. Lestrade protected me." He opened the door slightly and stuck his hand out, wiggling his fingers to ask for his towel.
            
            "Besides, I promised I'd come back. We had a date planned, Rosie's school meetings. Lunch with Mrs. Hudson on Sundays. I'm domesticated. Domesticated animals always come home."
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adamnedsoldier

@lNTELLECTUS ;
            
            John listened to Sherlock, finding himself staring at a piece of lint that was rolling along the floor from the floor.  He had read a copy of the file that Sherlock had been e-mailed, those images scarred him slightly. It kept him awake some nights just knowing that Sherlock was working that case without him. 
            
            “Good- There’s horrible people in the world. They don’t deserve to live freely.” John mumbled, a heaviness in his voice. He knew all too well of the cruelness of people from working with Sherlock but also from the war. He’d seen his fair share of victims and had been at the hands of torturers; those people telling him they liked the terror in their victims eyes. “I would have felt a lot more as ease if I’d gone with you, you would have had protection. If I got a call from Greg that you were- I wouldn’t have forgiven myself.” he muttered and shook his head, the frown still on his face.
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lNTELLECTUS

@adamnedsoldier ;
            
            About the case. Sherlock inhaled sharply then rinsed shampoo from his hair. "Keiran Doherty. He'd been operating for years before they caught on, seven victims since 2016 until now. Attempted murders, the victims there are ten at least. He wasn't very good at killing, but he was good at hiding. The weather aided him. Number five was what made Lestrade call, a woman by Miss Lowe. Same modus operandi." 
            
            He stared through the glass at John's blurred figure and he tried to ignore the look that was frozen on her face. When did that begin to bother him? "Killed them on the street. Rain washed everything away. All trace evidence, we had a few scraps to work with. Nothing in the way of eyewitnesses. I spent hours in the lab. Hours profiling. I compiled a list of possible victims based on his activity in the region. I overlooked a possible victim, had done so for a long time. I returned to the idea, and that's how I caught him. Sheer luck some of the Yard said. God's interference." 
            
            Sherlock chuckled dryly, found himself disgusted at the idea then annoyed and finally, thankful. "Life in prison without parole. He used excessive violence on the victims. Used a hatchet on the first two, and a knife on the rest. He told me he liked to see the terror in their eyes. Fortunately, he didn't taint the victims after death. He would have if he continued. Truthfully, I'm glad you didn't come with."
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