Mycroft is annoyed XD

Poor boy is probably just hungry.

That could be the reason *lol* XD

A Cloak of Yellow

Molly learned how to deal with Sherlock Holmes, eventually.

She learned how to dress to hide her secrets. She learned to smile and wink and sway to trick him into not worrying about her. She learned to throw him off with a well-placed innuendo.

When she hurt a little too much, she’d remind him that she’d moved on.

Her smudged lipstick testified to many of those attempts through the night. She wiped off the red, looking into the mirror and wondering if Sherlock had noticed the shade.

She’d felt Sherlock’s eyes on her in the crowd. Assessing, weighing, wondering, waiting. She’d pulled Tom in for a dozen kisses just to try to keep the weight of that gaze off of her.

When she saw him with Janine and her heart froze in her chest, she’d grinned and stepped away to talk and laugh and breath until she couldn’t see him anymore and the knot in her throat disappeared. Janine was wonderful and funny and smart. Sherlock would be happy with her. If he glanced at Molly, he’d never know she was hurt.

Molly undid her earrings and stared at her red cheeks and watery eyes. She didn’t wipe the tear away when it fell. She pushed the straps of her dress down, her grey mood clashing with the yellow of her dress.

She shopped for that dress in a direct contrast to her last party attempt. No dark, curve hugging fabric. No alluring curls or strappy heels. She picked vibrant and happy yellow. She picked a floppy bow and an easy bun and nice flats and a smile that could dazzle a room.

She hid behind these colors and these expressions and these actions because she had learned how to hide from the Great Detective. She frowned when she slipped the dress off, wondering why it felt so much like a lie. Hiding wasn’t a lie. It was protection. Molly always needed protection from Sherlock Holmes’s heartbreaking, but she felt different in this yellow dress.

When Molly looked in the mirror, she realized she had not learned to hide from herself.

What was a kiss if it was only a disguise?

What was a smile if it was only a mask?

What was the point of hiding her cracks and fissures and lines?

Love was not a game of hide and seek.

Molly looked in the mirror and decided not to hide any more.

seasalticecream32 you are a genuis. I stg,…. This was marvellous!!! Did i tell you you are a genius??

Your periodic reminder that 17 openly refers to Krillin as his brother.

Headcanon that in the new good future where Marty McFly never has his accident, he does become a famous musician, while still going on time travel adventures with Doc, and then when the internet comes along, people on forums and message boards start discovering and posting photos of people in the past who look eerily like famous rock star Marty McFly, and as time goes on, “Marty McFly is a time traveller” becomes one of the biggest and most long running memes on the internet.

When Doc finds out he freaks out and panics and makes blog posts (because of COURSE Doc runs a blog) talking about how UTTERLY RIDICULOUS the idea of a time travelling rock star is, which the internet finds hilarious and only makes the meme spread more.

Marty meanwhile thinks the whole thing is the funniest thing ever and is just wheezing at every new forum or jokey article about it, and directly addresses the meme in interviews, bringing up this “crazy conspiracy” that people have, until eventually he can just say things like “well of course I am a time traveller” or “oh you like my hat? Thank you I got it in the 1910s”, and people just crack up, and Marty cracks up too because no-one realises that he’s not even lying.

That’s hilarious.

“Of course…November 5th, 1955! That was the day I invented time travel!” – Doc Brown, Back To The Future  :-)

Deet Portrait

Discussion: why Tom

I just wanted to get some thoughts on why Gatiss and Moffat decided to bring Tom into the picture and why they decided he should be a carbon copy of Sherlock.

My thoughts are that they were going for the laugh, molly herself was created as a lipstick joke abs her feelings have often been used as a joke. It’s Louise Brealeys astounding acting that had turned molly from caricature to a character many treasure as much as Sherlock himself.

So why bring Tom up? And why make him a Sherlock clone? If sherlolly was never the endgame why didn’t the writers give molly a lovely handsome man to ride off into the sunset with? Why get rid of him after two episodes?

What was the point of him? What do we learn about molly? About Sherlock through this man. And was it really fair to do this to molly (spoiler alert I think it was awful and completely unfair)

So questions

Why bring Tom up?

Why make him a clone of Sherlock

Would you have preferred someone else (Tom Huddlestone or anyone else)

What was the point? Why drop him so soon

Was making Tom a clone of Sherlock a fair thing to do to mollys character

After everything Molly did, she didn’t deserve to be a joke again. Faking Sherlock’s death requires intelligence and good acting skills. Making her boyfriend look like Sherlock without her realizing it felt like an insult to her character.

I realize that no one in that scene is like “Wow, Molly, you knew the whole time that Sherlock was alive. You fooled us all!” That could have been an interesting scene and Molly could have been finally defined by other character traits than just “the girl who is in love with Sherlock”

But no, just put her back into the role she had in season 1 and make her a joke again.

She isn’t taken seriously in that scene. Everyone is either confused or laughing behind her back and like “let this poor thing have this.” And they’re supposed to be her friends.

So, yeah, I’m with you. It was awful, unfair and unnecessary.

Why did the writers do that scene?

Well, they casted that actor and recognized a small resemblance with Sherlock and came up with that idea and thought “hey, that could be an awesome joke!” without thinking things through.

Yeah...

To The 11th Floor

Caring has never been an advantage

Molly’s flat-02.30 hrs.

Sherlock came to Molly’s flat late one night with a blonde woman in a red dress. The pathologist welcomed them into her home.

Molly: So Sherlock, you will be using my bedroom tonight?

Sherlock: Yes…

Molly: (To the blonde lady) The guest room is down the hall. Make yourself at home, alright?

The lady: Thank you so much, Molly. Hold on, what about you? Where will you be sleeping then?

Molly: (smiled brightly) I can finally make a good use of this too expensive couch.

Sherlock: Three are too crowded in here, Molly. I need more spaces to think.

Molly: (Frowned) So you want the whole place for yourself?

Sherlock: Yes and no…(Pointed at the blond lady) I need her here with me.

Molly: Oh…Okay. So you want ‘my place’ for yourself and your guest then?

Sherlock: Yes…

The lady: For Pete’s sake, Sherlock, you cannot possibly make her go at this hours. It’s after midnight!

Sherlock: (Cut her off) Precisely, and I need to solve your case as quickly as possible, hopefully before dawn.

The lady: You are such a jerk!! No one in the right mind would treat a friend like this.

Sherlock: (Grumpily) Ah…Sentiment again!! Why does everyone is so sentimental today?! Firstly John and now you! (Sneered) Mycroft was right, caring has never been an advantage…

Molly: That’s OK. I will be at the lab if you need anything.

Sherlock: Excellent…

Sherlock then quickly handed her a small plastic bag with particles from the crime scene.

Sherlock: Here, I want to know what they exactly are. Text me when you have the lab results.

Molly fully looked at the genius detective’s stern face and made up her mind.

Molly: Of course. Just lock the door for me when you leave.

******

221b Baker Street-20.30 hrs.

Molly: Here is the lab results that you have asked about.

Sherlock: Thanks…, Molly.

Molly had already left the room when Sherlock looked up from his microscope. He expected to see her standing there; smiling at him adoringly like she always did, but surprisingly she did not.

***** St.Bart’s staff canteen-12.30 hrs.

Sherlock approached Molly at St.Bart’s staff canteen one afternoon. He sat down at the table opposite to her.

Sherlock: Molly, Molly, Molly…

Molly: (Looked up) Yes.

Sherlock: (Grinned) Ah…You’ve gotten a new sweater, nice. Blue always suits you.

Molly: (Ignored his compliment) I suppose you want me to wheel Mr.Binnion out again this afternoon.

Sherlock: Yes, there has been a….

Molly: (Cut him off) That’s OK. You don’t need to explain. Let me finish my lunch first and I will do it.

Sherlock: Alright, thank you.

Molly then zoned out from his presence and quietly finished her lunch.

******

St.Bart’s pathological lab-17.00 hrs.

John: Is he clean?

Molly took off her lab gloves.

Molly: Clean? Well…

Sherlock: (Rolled his eyes) You know well that it’s all for the case, Molly. No need to slap any senses out of me this time.

Molly gave him no response. She only noted down the lists on a piece of paper and handed it to John.

Molly: Here are the drugs that I found in his urine. If you don’t mind, I really need to go (glanced at her watch). I am late already.

John: Oh..of course not, thank you, Molly.

Molly grinned warmly at John and bid her friend goodbye.

Molly: That’s OK. I will see you this weekend then. Please tell Mary that I will bring a bottle of red wine and some lasagna.

As she turned to Sherlock, her smile disappeared. Molly only said her polite Goodbye to him and left.

*****

The Watsons’ Home-19.44 hrs.

The Watsons stood by the fireplace, chatting with Greg Lestrade. Sherlock sat in an armchair, listening to his friends. In the opposite corner of the room, Molly sat on the sofa with Sherly Watson on her laps. She whispered somethings in the girl’s ears, making her giggled joyfully.

The consulting detective abruptly stood up, took some quick steps across the room and kneeled down in front of his pathologist, trapping her in between his arms. He then took a too close look at Molly’s face.

Sherlock: This…

Molly: (backed away a little) What?

Sherlock: This smile…I miss this smile of yours.

Everyone in the room silently observed them.

John: (Whispered to Mary) Thanks God, he finally observed.

Molly: What are you talking about?

Sherlock: Yes, Molly…what am I talking about?

Molly: (Sighed) I asked you.

Sherlock: It’s been months since I last saw your smiles…for me in particular and I miss them.

Molly: (Shook her head) Don’t be ridiculous, Sherlock.

Mary: Sherly, love, Uncle Greg has some secrets to tell you.

Lestrade: Me? Secret? (Saw the Watsons’ quiet signal) Oh…yes, I have a lot of secrets. Come on, Sherly.

The smart girl then quickly slid down from Molly’s laps and ran to her mommy, leaving her godparents alone together.

Sherlock: You are obviously angry at me. What did I do this time?

Molly: I am not angry, Sherlock.

Sherlock: Molly….

Molly: (Sighed heavily) Seriously, I am not.

Sherlock: (Rolled his eyes) Oh…come on.

Molly: To put it right I don’t feel anything for you anymore…..But don’t you worry; I will do my best to fulfill my function though.

Sherlock: Your function?

Molly: Yes, my function in your life; as a lab assistant and a pathologist.

Sherlock: (Frowned deeply) You are my (paused to find the right word) friend, Molly Hooper. Stop this nonsense at once.

Molly: (Shook her head) Caring has never been an advantage, Sherlock. It only brings you pain and agony. I learnt that from the best.

******* Hello…

A little sad this ficlet of mine, angst, they called it. Anyway have a good day. Thank you for your supports as always.

Here are the link to my other ficlets.

Take care,

Nuchamae

Very good. I am looking for stories where Molly shows him the cold shoulder, stops adoring him entirely (because she knows that nothing will change and Sherlock will never treat her with the respect she deserves) and just gives up. Love shouldn’t be unconditional. Better she stops loving him at all and concentrates on people who do her actually good. Wished something like that happened in the show.

Let’s put ourselves in Molly shoes for a minute.

There’s this guy that you like, though you know he’s kind of an asshole and he makes you feel small - like a mouse. You spend years trying to earn his attention - you dress up, do him favors that would get you in trouble, cancel plans with your bf, and do anything he asks. All you get in return are rejections, compliments that come with strings, and attention only when he needs something. He finds out you have feelings for him while he’s in the middle of publicly humiliating you. He always says such horrible things. You tell him so to his face, but it doesn’t change how you feel. 

You help him fake his death when he asks, because at the end of the day, you want to be there when he needs you. He disappears. You date while he’s gone, but your feelings for him remain untouched. You even get engaged to a man that looks and dresses similar to him, but it’s not the same.

When he comes home, he asks you to accompany him on a case. You get your hopes up that he’s finally come around, even though you have a fiance now. The case is fun, but he forgets your name - after all you’ve done for him. It hurts a little. He reassures you that you’re not a replacement for his usual partner, but you still take notes and do everything said partner would do because you feel like it’s what he wants. At the end, he congratulates you on your engagement and thanks you for your help. And even though he said you weren’t just a replacement, he never asks you to hang out again after he’s made up with his other friend. 

You tell him about how much sex you’re having with your fiance, just to see his reaction. He doesn’t care. You didn’t really think he would. He just uncomfortably moves the conversation on to what he really wanted - a favor. As always. 

You attend his best friend’s wedding and stare daggers at the pretty bridesmaid on his arm. Why does she get his attention so easily when you’ve been working for it for years? He throws her the boutonnière without even a second glance at you, and you feel a little stab of hurt. Because you can’t help how strongly you still feel for him. And you hate yourself for it. So much, that when you see him leave the wedding clearly upset, you continue dancing instead of making sure he’s okay like you once would have. 

You find out that he’s relapsed to drugs. You’re angry. And suddenly, you don’t care anymore about always putting on your best face to make him like you. You hit him. He throws your failed engagement in your face (which you knew was doomed to fail the moment he returned from the dead) and you resent him for it.

He comes to your flat in the middle of the night. He needs a place to stay, but insists that he needs your whole bedroom to himself. He needs the space - from you. Like always, whatever he needs, you give it to him. When he goes missing, you are forced to admit you let him do this. It’s so humiliating you hardly want to admit it. 

He relapses again months later, and guess who is called up to handle  cleaning up his mess? You. Always you. It’s you who they call when they need to pull strings or need a last minute favor no one else will do. That’s all you’re good for, apparently. 

You’re having a bad day. Alone. The phone rings, and it’s him. You’re done with him. You’ve had enough of his shit. You ignore it. It rings again. You answer.

He tells you to say “I love you.” You consider telling him to fuck off. You’re not an experiment. He insists, and you admit that you can’t say it because it’s always been true. And boy, do you hate how true it is, how much pain it’s caused you. He tells you to say it anyway - boy, do you hate that. But you insist on him saying it first. It takes him two tries to get it right, and then you say it back. It’s like a knife to your heart. 

He comes to your flat later and tells you that the “phone call” you had with him was actually him being threatened by his crazy sister who told him that unless you said “I love you” to him, you’d get blown up. “You bastard,” you say when he asks for your forgiveness. You’re pissed off at the fact that it was still all a lie. An experiment, just like you thought in the beginning. But fuck it, you think. You’ll forgive him. Deep down you always knew you would. Because he can do anything, literally anything to you, and you’ll allow it. He can play with your heart, use you, take your room, lie to you, and you’ll let him. But you’ll always pick yourself up and put a smile on your face the next time he asks for your help. Because that’s what you do, and it’s what you’ll always do. So might as well accept it, because that’s all he ever needs you for. 

SO LADIES: 

If he doesn’t manipulate you, only remember you exist when he needs something, forget your name when you’re hanging out, use you because he knows you’ll never say no to him, and only say “i love you” for the sake of getting a response …. what’s even the point???

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: Molly Hooper deserved better.

The worst thing is that the writers stated that - if there ever will be a 5th season - Sherlock and Molly will go back to “their usual dynamic.”  So nothing will change? Sherlock will continue to ask Molly favors, tells her that she counts and all that while giving her nothing. And Molly is okay with it while still dealing with all her problems alone. And she continues to love Sherlock forever and for always because he is “in her blood” and always will be. And it is “strangely redemptive” for her (I have read that somewhere. I think Louise Brealy said it herself). This is just horrible.