Angstober 2023 - Tumblr Posts

Honor Bound

When the stirring of ill ease blossomed from justified suspicion into awareness of the Elders embarking upon a full blown dangerous course of action, Shin slipped away to make an important call.

For years he had been waiting for this moment, knowing it was inevitable. His brother had faithfully followed Vicious across the galaxy, had virtually worshiped the ground on which the coldhearted man stood, had done his best to emulate the callous superiority that Vicious had radiated. Thankfully, Lin had at least known better than to get involved with taking Bloody Eye, but Shin could still not fathom how his brother had managed to maintain his allegiance when Vicious was sent away.

Spike disappearing had been somehow less ominous despite the oft-whispered rumors of his demise. Though neither Shin nor Lin had revered Spike in quite the same way, he had still been above them in the ranks and therefore held a position of one to be respected and obeyed.

Spike had a well-earned reputation as brash, hotheaded, and self-destructive. Vicious had an equally deserved reputation as a methodical, merciless, madman. The Van considered both of them too wild to be off leash yet too skilled at their jobs to be destroyed.

It had been left to Julia to wrangle the mutts. And it was Julia with her poise and her cool headedness and her inexhaustible patience to whom Shin pledged his loyalty. She was brilliant, beautiful, and saw so much more than anyone realized.

She would be the future of the Syndicate one day. And he was honor bound to see her succeed.

If she could just survive this…

Shin gripped the phone tightly in his hand, waiting for the ringing to give way to the answering machine. She never picked up. It was far smarter this way. He would relay the imperative message and then await further instruction before making a move.

He had been serving in the shadows for so long now. Listening, watching, reporting back to her, and always so nervous about potential discovery. Afraid that she would be unable to keep one step ahead of Vicious. Anxious that the Van would wise up to the uprising slowly gaining momentum at their very feet.

At last he was going to be able to act. To throw himself willingly into the fray. For her he would walk over hot coals into the flames of the fire itself. After all, it would only be under her calm and capable governance that the Dragons truly had a future to speak of.

He was awash with nervous energy. It felt like he had always been teetering here on the edge that separated doom from triumph. Never before had things come this close to a head however. Never before had the Van and Vicious both been working so diligently towards such opposing goals, and each doing so as secretly as possible.

He had been trapped here between discreetly warring factions for too long. Now he could stand tall and reveal his true allegiance.

One way or another, it would all be over soon.

Anxiety

She tried to play it off but something in the glance Spike gave her made her doubt if she had been successful. It was hard though… hard to pretend you understood everything going on. Hard to pretend that reckless stunts in a space barely largely than a coffin didn’t freak you out.

In the moment, things just flowed. Sure, she was nervous but there was never time to truly think about what was happening or what she had to do next. She just acted. So far this system had resulted in survival every time but that was no guarantee for the future. Instinct, especially instinct based solely on your body’s physical response to external stimuli, wasn’t gonna keep her from getting hurt or worse someday.

Frankly she was just lucky that her ship responded so immediately to the kneejerk course corrections she’d put it through time and time again. It was like an extension of her own body and moved in the ways she demanded without a second of hesitation. But she barely knew how it actually worked. She could fuel it up, could clean off the globe to have a clear line of sight - not even necessary given the scans that let her see so much more than the naked eye could ever hope to. She just didn’t know how to fix so much as a spark plug. Did it even use spark plugs? What even was a spark plug?

Thinking too much about things made her anxiety soar. There was so much she didn’t know and didn’t understand. So much that she tried to simply accept so that her mind didn’t freak out. She couldn’t afford to stop or even pause when life was moving a mile a minute and she had to be ready to jump into action if she wanted to stay alive.

Her hands were trembling so she laced her fingers together and put them at the back of her head as she walked down the spinning hallway next to the lanky cowboy. It wouldn’t do to let him see how anxious she was in the aftermath of their mission. She couldn’t let them know she was so woefully unprepared to actually undertake these jobs. And in reality she wasn’t as ill suited for bounty hunting as she thought, if she just let herself react then she was usually fine.

Muscle memory from an unknown past… what type of life had she led that she could be so well versed in gunplay? Had she been a soldier? A cop? A gangster? A hunter?

So many questions. So much uncertainty. She was about to flip out.

Spike paused at her side and she automatically stopped as well. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, pulled out a pair of smokes and lit them both before offering her one. Her hand managed to be tremble-free as she wordlessly took the cigarette from him. He gave her a wink and then clenched his own cigarette between pursed lips as he spun the door open to let them into the living room.

The nicotine and tobacco combination hit her lungs and her mind at the same time. The cigarette itself gave her something to do with her hands. Her moment of panic was already beginning to diminish as she made her way past the couch and headed for the bathroom.

A Dangerous Gamble

The science was ludicrous. Then again, Spike wasn't exactly too well-versed in much of that field of education anyway. The mechanics of how a gun operated though? That he knew well.

The idea that this gemstone-turned-bullet could potentially bring an end to Wen? A dangerous gamble to be sure. Even Jet, who had deciphered some sort of explanation as to the whys of it all, wasn't sure how this would play out.

The uncertainty gave him a thrill. This could be the last thing he ever attempted. This could literally blow up in his face.

Even Faye seemed uneasy about this half-baked plan, judging by her presence in the hall. She'd been feigning nonchalance since the cathedral incident, doing her best to ignore him even though he'd caught her gaze on him countless times. No doubt she felt somewhat guilty about the beating he'd taken as he'd risked it all to rescue her. No doubt she was horribly curious about just why Vicious had used her for bait to draw him out.

Maybe if he came back from this they could hash it out. Find equal footing once more. There was something about her that intrigued him to no end… her tenacity was impressive, her carefully orchestrated attitude and attire was devilishly provocative, and there was something to the gleam in her eyes that promised all sorts of wicked and wonderful things.

It might be fun to discover exactly how well they could work together.

"Yes, my dear?" A gentle tease before he left, a hint that he was capable of reciprocating her hint of affection.

And then Jet was offering him a cigarette - the type of gesture that implied he too thought this would be the end of Spike Spiegel.

A grin touched his face as he accepted the smoke and spoke, his words belaying the genuine excitement he was feeling inside.

This could be for naught. The bullet might do nothing to the strange, arrested development child. He'd already been shot by the kid and it's not like Wen had hesitated over killing others before. The unpredictable nature of the gem-bullet aside, he could easily be walking to his own death.

It was a dangerous gamble, but was there any other kind?

"I Want To Believe You"

JULIA: It was raining that day as well...

SPIKE: You didn't come because of the rain?

JULIA: I was supposed to kill you. That day if I had killed you I would

       have been free.

SPIKE: So why didn't you? Why did you choose to be pursued?

JULIA: Why did you love me?

Julia puts down the gun and embraces Spike.

JULIA: Let's just run away somewhere.  Truly escape from this world and go

       where no one else is... Just the two of us...

He wanted to believe her. Believe that, years later, they might still have a chance to escape to freedom together. Build a life together out from under the shadow of the syndicate, using their bloodstained hands to make a home together somewhere no one knew their names…

But he wasn’t the same idealistic young man he’d been when he tried to make future plans with her so long ago. Madly in love, desperate to get away from everything he’d ever known except for her… he had been a fool, a loveblind fool. He had believed that she would show up, that despite her initial response and misgivings that she would choose to flee with him.

Killing him wouldn’t have made her free. They both knew that and it was slightly belittling to realize she might have thought him daft enough to consider it true. She could have easily joined him after he faked his own death - there was no gun to her head in that moment, no excuse to explain why she’d chosen to run on her own instead of at his side.

And to think she still didn’t understand his affection for her back then. When she had been the only light in his dark life, the spark of promise of something beautiful, the impetus he’d needed to realize there was more out there for both of them than to serve the syndicate and eventually be killed in the call of duty.

Her presence here now was wildly suspicious. Clearly she’d kept in contact with Shin - how else would he have known to warn him about the Van making a move on Vicious and Julia and Spike himself? Truthfully, had he even been a target? If they’d believed he was alive, then absolutely. But who had Vicious told after he’d made that discovery in the cathedral? Annie had thought Mao was mad for believing Spike was still alive, but he’d been right after all. Even Vicious might have been convinced he was dead, until Faye made the mistake of going after Mao’s bounty and they’d traced her ties to the Bebop and realized Spike was out there.

That disturbed him quite a bit. He’d gone over Faye’s ship after he was mobile again. He’d searched high and low for any sign of a tracking device and had come up empty. But there had to be something hidden somewhere. The fact that Vicious hadn’t bothered to chase them down immediately only spoke to the more imperative personal missions he’d had. By that point it was obvious that Spike had eluded notice for years and would likely endeavor to continue being a ghost to all who had known him before. He was hardly a threat to Vicious, who had apparently maintained the lofty aspirations Spike had heard hint of back when they were still partners.

Tearing down the Elders and placing himself at the head of a powerful syndicate… that was far more important to Vicious than slaying a weak man who he’d once held in high esteem.

The fact that it had taken the Elders so long to move against Vicious spoke of their own naivety. Even when Spike had been an enforcer, they had not trusted Vicious very far. For them to let him live to be such a threat was idiotic at best. And for them to immediately target Julia as well when they finally decided to eliminate Vicious? It begged the question of how they were able to find her with such ease and why they considered her so tied to Vicious still. It made no sense to simply kill everyone associated with one unruly member - that would only ensure the syndicate itself was gutted of capable members.

Clearly she was very much a part of Vicious’s plans.

And the way she’d managed to run into Faye of all people was highly suspect. Using Faye to get to him made him leery as well. It was cruel to toy with Faye in such a way given her obvious yet inconvenient feelings for him. Oh, she downplayed it as best she could, strove to force it far from her thoughts and heart, but Julia was well-versed in reading people. She would have been able to see the minute tells in Faye during whatever passed for conversation between the two. And then she’d sent her back to the ship, back to him, morose and disturbed and unable to keep from telling Spike what she had been told to relay to him.

Faye was too good a person, though she’d be the last one to think that of herself. But a spiteful woman would have never told him that message. She could have taken Julia’s plea to the grave and Spike would have never known.

Julia had assumed a lot about Faye’s character but in the end she had been judged accurately. And she had correctly deduced that the events unfolding on Tharsis - her own desperate attempt to reach out to him - would lead him straight back into her clutches. But to what end?

He could not believe she truly wanted to abscond with him at last. Could not believe that she thought he would just leave his friends to be murdered for the simple error of having been his partners in his post-syndicate life. Then again, her own knowledge of Spike was based largely on who he had been before. On the lovesick young man willing to betray everyone he’d known just to have a chance with the girl of his dreams.

He didn’t know what her plan was. Wasn’t sure if she was here to lead him to Vicious or the Elders or what. It was entirely possible that he was meant to be a sacrificial lamb that would give her a leg up in the eyes of the Van. Perhaps she expected him to face off against Vicious so one or both of them could be killed.

Her motives were questionable. Her presence before him filled him with distrust. Yet he could not keep from taking the next steps. He was tired of being someone’s plaything. Tired of being coerced to dance for someone else’s entertainment and end game. The bloodbath that was about to ensure was inevitable but he was going to take it to the very end in his own way. This would go down on his terms and maybe that meant he’d die too but… well, he’d died before a time or two, so why not make it official at last if it resulted in the syndicate’s demise?

Dried and Cracked

Compulsively, she licked her lips, hating that she was unable to stop herself from doing so. They were chapped, dried and cracked, and the moisture transferred by her tongue from her mouth was only making the problem worse.

The wind blew fiercely, water droplets turning to ice pellets as the temperature dropped and night descended on the cold, cold moon. Her jacket did a poor job of keeping her warmth contained to her core and upper limbs, but it was still better than her bare legs that were being repeatedly stung by the precipitation swirling around.

She had thought that the alley would provide more cover but it seemed just the opposite as brutal blasts of wind tore through the narrow space. There were a few resigned individuals sheltering against the walls in clumps of twos and threes, huddling together for shared heat and making the most of whatever scraps of fabric they had to their name. Not a one paid her any attention - and why would they? She had nothing to offer them, no way to ease the chill of the oncoming night. She was just another lost soul drifting along the depressing corridor of Callisto’s biggest city.

Why had she come back here? Why torture herself so?

She was chasing after a ghost.

If she only listened harder, disregarding the howl of the wind and ignoring the steady thump-thump of her own heartbeat, would she catch a haunting refrain from a lone saxophone?

In retrospect it was madness. Gren was gone - Spike had confirmed that. And what insight could he have offered her anyway? He had seen right through her insecurities, had offered up truths about himself that she was unwilling to admit understanding… so what more could he have done for her if he were still alive?

In the end he went off to find answers from Vicious, knowing he was going to his death. Taking her in, helping her, then abandoning her just like Whitney. Well, not exactly like Whitney, that fucking ass. She supposed Gren paralleled Spike more since Spike had also taken off to face down Vicious, swaggering off to court death one final time.

And she was left to pick up the pieces of herself. In the aftermath there were always pieces missing. Shards of herself she could never reclaim. Fragments that died with the people she'd lost. You always lose part of yourself when you lose someone else. Inside jokes, being witness to their fears or fury, even just the simple fact that there would never be interactions with anyone else that would be quite the same.

Her heart was missing entire chunks. A red haired feral child had absconded with a good portion of it, her and the damn dog. There had been sections she couldn't even access until recently and now that her memory had returned it merely meant acknowledging the deeper pain of names and faces and shared experiences all forever beyond reach. And then Spike had nearly broken the remainder when he waltzed off after her confession. What was even the point in admitting she needed him if he wasn't gonna stick around?

Part of her wanted to just sit down and let the cold win. Lie down and let snow blanket her… slow the blood pumping through her body… let her mind drift away…

She licked her lips again as she paused under a flickering streetlight and looked up and down the road. A hint of iron on her tongue. Fuck, her lips were so painfully chapped.

A muffled noise sounded from the pocket of her pilfered jacket - she'd never given it back to Spike and now she never could. Dead men didn't need coats so she refused to feel guilty about it.

Sighing, Faye reached in and withdrew the comm.

"What?" She snapped, sniffling. Her nose was starting to run, great.

"Bounty is on the move. You in position?"

She glanced around, no street sign in evidence anywhere. "Uhh…"

"Never mind. You sound stuffy. Why don't you head back to the ship? I can handle this guy on my own."

Closing her eyes, she struggled to keep from making a troubled face even though she hadn't activated the visual end of her signal so there was no chance Jet could see anyway.

"Jeeeeeeet," she whined. "You already got me out here freezing my ass off. I'll keep my eye open for him, I think I'm in the right spot."

A short pause on his end and then, "...all right. If you make it back before me, there's a crockpot of hot chocolate in the kitchen."

Appreciation bubbled up in her chest, warming her. She inhaled, icy air burning her lungs, and let it out slowly.

"...thanks." It was easier, now that she had full recollection of who she had been before the accident, to be honest with others. Grateful, vulnerable, kind. It still seemed to baffle Jet but he was gradually getting used to the new Faye, but frankly the same was true for her as well.

Perhaps you were right about idolizing camaraderie, Gren. It's terrifying to trust in others… but there are occasions where it seems worth the risk, I suppose.

Movement down the road drew her attention and distracted her from her thoughts. Time to get this show on the road…

28 Sep 2023

Tags

No Archive Warnings Apply Dick Grayson & Jason Todd Tim Drake & Dick Grayson Diana (Wonder Woman) & Dick Grayson Dick Grayson & Clark Kent Dick Grayson & Koriand'r Dick Grayson Diana (Wonder Woman)Clark Kent Tim DrakeJason Todd Koriand'r (DCU) Hurt No Comfort Angstober2023 Hurt Dick Grayson Dick Grayson Whump Dick Grayson Needs a Hug Dick Grayson-centric Dead Bruce Wayne Prompt Fic Day #0 1 Implied/Referenced Character Death Dialogue Heavy Sad Ending Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism

Summary

Wonder Woman,Jason,Tim and Superman try to convince Dick that he doesn't have to be Batman

Never Going to Leave You by Eye_Collective

Fandoms:Batman - All Media Types

General Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

M/M

Complete Work

02 Oct 2023

Tags

No Archive Warnings Apply Bernard Dowd/Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent Tim Drake Kon-El | Conner Kent Bernard Dowd Janet Drake(mentioned) Jack Drake(mentioned) Sickfic Tim Drake-centric Hurt/Comfort Emotional Hurt/ComfortDay #02 Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake Tim Drake Needs a Hug Tim Drake Gets a Hug Tim Drake Has Abandonment Issues Tim Drake has Anxiety Suicidal Thoughts Angst with a Happy Ending Angstober 2023

Summary

Tim gets sick,but Bernard and Kon are stuck going to places. So, Tim stuck with his thoughts.

Day 2: Anxiety

Batman - All Media Types

General Audiences

Major Character Death

Gen

Complete Work

04 Oct 2023

Tags

Major Character Death Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne Harvey Dent & Bruce Wayne Harvey Dent Bruce Wayne Tim Drake Hurt No Comfort Angstober 2023 Hurt Bruce Wayne Bombs Day 3 Blackjack Gambling Hurt Tim Drake Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug Bruce Wayne-centric Tim Drake Needs a Hug Kidnapping

Summary

Tim gets captured by Two-Face he must get him back by winning Blackjack, what will be the cost if he loses?

Day:3 Dangerous Gamble

Credit to my friend @alisters-nonsense for helping me. Go check him out!

Wishes of Trust by Eye_Collective

Fandoms:Batman - All Media Types

General Audiences

No Archive Warnings Apply

Gen

Complete Work

07 Oct 2023

Tags

No Archive Warnings Apply Dick Grayson & Bruce WayneBruce Wayne Dick Grayson Alfred Pennyworth Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne Have a Complicated Relationship Hurt No Comfort Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating Emotionally Hurt Dick Grayson Angry Dick Grayson Implied/Referenced Character Death Dick Grayson Needs a Hug Dick Grayson-centricDick Grayson Whump Angstober 2023 Day #4

Summary

Bruce ask Dick to visit the Manor to talk.

Day 4: "I want to believe you

Complete Work

08 Oct 2023

Tags

No Archive Warnings ApplyAlfred Pennyworth & Bruce WayneAlfred Pennyworth Bruce Wayne Dick Grayson(mentioned)Tim Drake(mentioned)Jason Todd(mentioned)Damian Wayne(mentioned) Hurt/Comfort Good Parent Alfred Pennyworth Alfred Pennyworth is the Best Alfred Pennyworth-centricAlfred Pennyworth is Bruce Wayne's Parent Angstober 2023

Summary

Bruce asks about lines on a teacup

Day 5:"Dried and cracked"

Helped written by our amazing friend @alisters-nonsense

Batman - All Media Types

Teen And Up Audiences

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

M/M

Complete Work

11 Oct 2023

Tags

Graphic Depictions Of Violence Roy Harper/Jason Todd Roy Harper Jason Todd Sheila Haywood Joker (DCU) Emotional Hurt/Comfort Hurt/Comfort Nightmares Established Roy Harper/Jason Todd Jason Todd Needs A HugJason Todd Gets A HugJason Todd Deserves BetterJason Todd-centric Married Roy Harper/Jason Todd Blood and InjuryBlood and Violence Angstober 2023 Day 06

Summary

Jason has nightmare about Joker beating him,his husband Roy helps him.

Day 6: "what's wrong?"

Series

Part 6 of Angstober 2023

"What's wrong?"

Martha Hudson filled the kettle and placed some of her biscuits on a plate. Every now and again she glanced through the open door to the man sitting in her living room. She sighed again. When the tea was ready, she placed it on the tray beside the biscuits and went over to Sherlock. “Sherlock dear, you have to eat. Tell me you ate something today?” The man lifted his gaze and blinked at her in confusion, as if he had no clue where he was or what he was doing. It was quite possible that he really did not know. Mrs Hudson sat down next to him and placed a hand on his back. Sherlock had come down to her about two hours ago, and was now sitting in her flat like a statue, not moving, not speaking, looking utterly lost. “Sherlock, what's wrong?” she asked in a gentle tone. Sherlock blinked again and slowly, so slowly, turned his head. He frowned, then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he looked shattered, utterly broken and forlorn. “I love him,” he said eventually, in a low and distant tone, as if he was bewildered himself. Mrs Hudson's face fell with this confession and she stroked Sherlocks back in a reassuring manner. “Oh dear...” Sherlock put his elbows on his knees and placed his face in his palms. “I'm in love, Mrs Hudson...” His voice cracked, and he looked completely broken. Her chest tightened at the sight and she searched for words to soothe Sherlock, when he continued. “I fell for him, exactly one year ago.” He took a deep and shuddering breath. “The night we met. The night he saved my life. And I'm still falling. One year, Mrs Hudson. And every day, every single day, I look at him, and I love him a bit more than the day before. And it hurts.” His breathing was fast and rough, his entire body was tensed and positively trembling. “It hurts... and it's not getting better. When will it stop? Is it ever going to stop?” His eyes were red and he was looking so desperate, so done with everything. Mrs Hudson closed her eyes as she thought about all the rude and thoughtless comments of Sherlocks flatmate. 'Not a couple,' 'Not gay' and so on. She closed her arms around the broken man and shushed him, rocking him gently back and forth. “Maybe it will never end, and maybe it will continue to hurt. But you will learn to live with it. You will learn to love him in your own way, to live with him and for him. And on the days you think it is too much, I will be there for you, and you can talk to me. Remember, that you can always talk to me...” She squeezed him tightly and lowered his head onto her shoulder, while the strongest man she knew, shattered into pieces in her arms.

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@angstober

@holmesianlove @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @topsyturvy-turtely @safedistancefrombeingsmart @blogstandbygo @7-percent @a-victorian-girl

Actually love the fact these OS make me angry at John and at the same time- god the feels

Taught you better

“I'll be right back, just helping Mrs Hudson,” John said, just after he had put Rosie on his chair, and off he was again. Not even a hello to Sherlock. But maybe he really was just in a hurry and wanted Rosie occupied upstairs, while he was quickly helping his former landlady. Sherlock remained in his own chair and smiled at Rosie. “Good afternoon little Watson,” he greeted her warmly. “Hi Sha!”She was making progress with her speaking, but Sherlock remained 'Sha'. She wriggled on the chair, turned on her belly and carefully slid down Johns chair to the ground, smiling proudly when she eventually stood on her feet. She gave Sherlock a wide grin, then she looked to desk and back to Sherlock again, a questioning look on her face. He nodded. Whenever Rosie was with him because John had something on, she takes Sherlock's hand and together they walk to the desk so Sherlock could give her the Rubik's cube. But now Sherlock was watching her take her first steps towards independency by walking there on her own and reaching up to grasp the cube. He watched her with a proud smile and a warm flutter in his stomach. Just as Rosie actually reached for the cube and took it down, John came back. As he entered the room, he saw Rosie on the desk, price in hands, and Sherlock still sitting in his chair, apparently coming to a wrong conclusion. “Rosie,” he said in a scolding voice. “You can't just go and take anything you like in a flat you don't live in!” John sank to his knees in front of his daughter, taking the cube from her hands and replacing it on the desk. Sherlock saw her eyes going wide. Of course she didn't know what she did wrong, she always got the cube when she was with Sherlock, and Sherlock had allowed her to take it on her own. “John,” he started, but John cut him of, waving a dismissive hand behind his back. “I taught you better Rosie, you can't behave everywhere like it's your home.” That hurt. Sherlock could feel the warm feeling from earlier fade, and be replaced by a hot burning and something clenching in his chest. He still considered Bakerstreet as a home for John, and therefore for his daughter. But even if he wouldn't, even then, he would want them to feel comfortable in here, not unlike a home, wouldn't he as her godfather? “John, she really-” he tried again, but John interrupted him once again. “No Sherlock, why do I tell her something? Just for her to ignore it?” Sherlock took a deep breath and tried not to let any of his hurt show. He nodded. Rosie looked sad, and still as if she didn't really know what she'd done wrong. Sherlock couldn't blame her. He searched her gaze and said: “I'm sorry.” After that, Rosie looked even more sad and lowered her gaze to the floor. Sherlocks throat felt tight and he really hoped he imagined the sting of tears in his eyes. But little Watson was in trouble, just because of him. She didn't understand why her father was angry with her, and for some reason she was sad that her father seemed to be angry with him too, and Sherlock felt like he was burning inside, as if something ripped him apart. “But John, I really-” “Sherlock! I'm raising her, yeah?” John's voice was really getting angry by now and Sherlock had to briefly close his eyes. He took another deep breath and stood. “Tea,” he rasped out and fled into the kitchen. He leaned heavily on the counter and let his head hang between his shoulders. No matter what he did, it was wrong, he couldn't do it right, no matter how desperately he wanted to, he wasn't able to. But now he wasn't just getting himself into trouble, but little Watson too. What could he possibly do, to do it right? Or was he just not able to? He sighed and filled the kettle, waited for the water to boil.

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@angstober

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*squeaks in pain*

System collapse

When Mrs Hudson entered the sitting room of 221b Bakerstreet, a smile appeared on her face. John had brought his daughter to Bakerstreet this morning, mumbled something about striking daycare and a sick babysitter and left in a hurry. And since then, Sherlock was apparently enjoying his time with the little girl. He was lying on his back on the floor and Rosie was sitting on his chest, playing with the stuffed bee Sherlock had given to her in the early days, and giggling vigorously. Sherlock was smiling up at her, watching his beloved girl with a warm and fond gaze.

“Juhu,” Mrs Hudson announced herself while entering the flat. “I've brought some tea and biscuits, thought you could need some, after all this playing around.” She saw Rosies eyes widen in delight, nod excitedly and jump a little on Sherlocks chest, what forced a huffing sound from the man. “All right little bee,” he said and wrapped his large hands around her body. He lifted her abruptedly and held her in the air with outstretched arms, hovering over his own body. She burst into laugher, the sound light and clear and she was wriggling and squirming in Sherlocks grasp. When he was about to lower her to her feet she screamed 'noo' and Sherlock lifted her up again, mirroring Rosie's grin.

Mrs Hudson smiled while setting the table and followed the scenery from the corners of her eyes. If only John could see how lovely Sherlock was with the little girl. But he was always so reserved when John was around. Finally Sherlock put Rosie down on the floor. “Well, I think this is enough,” he smiled at her and wanted to stand up himself, but as he put weight on his left foot, he winced slightly. He'd had a sprained ankle some weeks ago, but apparently it still ached when he put weight on it after sitting for a long time. Rosie must have noticed as well, because she stopped on her way to the kitchen and turned towards him. “Papa?” She asked concerned.

Mrs Hudson froze at the exclamation and just stared for a moment. Eventually a warm feeling exploded in her chest and she gasped and put her hands over her mouth to cover the delighted sound that wanted to escape her. This was so adorable, Rosie and Sherlock really had a special-

But as she turned her gaze to Sherlock, Mrs Hudson's smile faded and the warm feeling turned to ice, apparently boring holes into her chest and knotting her stomach. The man was displaying an expression of utter shock, he was pale, even more so than usual, his breathing was strained and ragged, it was as if he was paralysed, except his violently shaking hands and rapid blinking. Mrs Hudson felt like she could watch his mind work, the wheels turning and turning, but not coming up with anything. And she could see this brilliant mind collapse, just... shutting down. Completely. Sherlock was staring at the girl with wide eyes, not moving for a very long time, and he looked so scared, nearly horrified, that Mrs Hudson couldn't move either. She could see that Sherlock was taking deep breaths, trying to regain control, but she could still see the utter panic in his eyes when he crouched down in front of Rosie.

“Rosie,” he said, his voice trembling and a bit hoarse, but urgent. “Don't... Please, don't say that in front of your Daddy, or mention it at all.” Mrs Hudson's mouth was hanging open. No, he couldn't mean that, could he? What was he saying? Rosie seemed confused as well. “But,” she said, “But you play with me, I have my own bed here, and I've read that some children have two Mothers or two Dads. Why can't you be my Dad? Daddy likes you too.” Sherlock shook his had. “Please, little bee, I don't think your father would like this idea, he doesn't like me like this, like-” He paused, swallowed. “I'm just a friend. You belong with him. Please, don't mention it to him, yeah?” And just with that, Mrs Hudson could feel her heart crack. Did Sherlock really think- Well, what did John make him think? She wasn't able to find words for the misery she saw right in front of her, for the pained expression on Sherlock's features, his obvious hurt when he told Rosie not to call him her father, even though he clearly wished she would. He was so deeply, deeply in love with the Watsons, with John, as with the little girl, but he was afraid of John's reaction. Because he didn't dare to show his feelings. Because he thought John wasn't reciprocating. Well, Mrs Hudson wasn't sure herself. Sometimes she thought, there must be something, clearly, but sometimes the doctor was denying it so profoundly. And wasn't that terrible in itself? Rosie was nodding slowly and said hesitantly: “Okay...?” It sounded more like a question. “Thanks,” Sherlock said, but he was still looking so incredible sad. Oh God, Mrs Hudson thought, oh dear Lord. It was as if the ache in her chest was caused by a real dagger made of ice. “Oh Sherlock...” she said, and the man lifted his gaze to hers, his eyes wide, and he was looking so young, so unbelievable young and vulnerable.

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Thank you, OP.

Face the consequences

In fierce determination John made his way through the halls of the Diogenes Club. Sometimes a chaperone or a servant would try to stop him, to kindly tell him to piss off or something like that, but he just raised a hand and stomped past them. By now he had been here often enough to find the way to his destination without any problems. He reached the door, knocked and entered without waiting. “Where is he?” he demanded. “Good afternoon to you too, Dr Watson. What can I do for you?” Mycroft was smiling at him from behind his desk. “Where. Is. He.” John pressed out through gritted teeth. “Please take a seat, John.” Mycroft gestured to the chair in front of his desk. John pulled the chair out and made no attempt to hide his impatience and annoyance. “I assume with 'he', you mean my brother?” Mycroft continued, unbothered, the false and smeary smile not leaving his features. “Yes,” John said. “I've tried to reach him for a week now, texts, calls, I was in his flat, but he's not there. He won't answer me, and no one makes an effort to tell me where he is. They 'don't know.'” He emphasized the last two words. “And you came to me because...” Mycroft asked, his eyebrows lifted expectantly. “Because you now where he is and why he won't answer me. You always know.” Mycroft tilted his head. “Why are you so eager to know, John? As far as I am informed, it is not unlikely for my brother to disappear for some days, or not to answer a text. Not to mention phone calls, I thought you would know that by now.” John was getting more and more annoyed. “Well, I know that. But... I worry about him. I texted him and he didn't answer. And when I went to see him, Mrs Hudson could only tell me that he has been away for a few days. I just want to know he's alright.” At this Mycroft's eyebrows went up. “You want to make sure he's... alright?” he asked, nearly disbelieving. “Yeah,” John said, his patience clearly coming to an end now. “I know, must be quite shocking for a friend to want to know that the other is doing fine. So, tell me.” Mycroft said nothing, just looked at him. “Well, I'm his friend, I have a right to know where he is.” Silence followed. “Why is he not answering?” Still silence, and John huffed in annoyance. Then Mycroft said in a low voice: “He's on a case. For me.” John frowned. “He never took cases from you.” Mycroft leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “He does now,” he just stated. “Why?” John asked confused. “You tell me, Doctor Watson,” was his answer. John decided to ignore whatever implication that should be. “And when will he be back?” he asked instead. Mycroft shrugged, but after a glare from John he added: “Maybe he will text you sometime...” “Sometime?” John asked. Mycroft watched him with a thoughtful expression. “Well, you married, Dr Watson. You married someone else. Face the consequences.” John's eyes went wide and his mouth fell open. “Wha-” He couldn't find any words. How could Mycroft say that? As Mycroft watched him, his expression darkened, slowly morphing into disappointment and bitterness. “Now Dr Watson, I'm sure you'll find your way out, as you came to me so confidently.” He stood, walked around his desk and opened the door. “Well?” He looked at John, and John was clever enough to see his chance to go before Mycroft would call security. And he would. John stood and turned to leave the office, still speechless. What the hell? What was Mycroft implying? He was tempted to turn and just ask, but the look he'd already received in the office discouraged him. So he left the building, much slower than on the way in and somewhat intimidated.

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