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Chapter 7-16

SLEEPOVER

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Heartstopper updates three times a month, on the 1st, 11th, and 21st at 11am UK time.

And there’s Sherlock, in the loneliest place on Earth - in the middle of a dance floor, no partner, all the couples swirling around him.

--The Sign of Three Final Shooting Script

Wille + soft intimacy with Simon

ETA: Simon's version is now here.

Reunion

Prompt: Together

Old friends, reunited.

Molly had always known that Greg wasn’t the kind of man who retired and had hobbies. Sitting around the house all day would drive him mad, and it did for a few weeks. When he told her he’d been offered a job consulting for the Met, she encouraged him to take it. It meant odd hours and missed dinners, but he was happier that way. 

Consulting Detective. 

She frequently thought of another consulting detective, one who’d left on a secret mission eighteen years ago and never returned. Something had happened, she suspected, something connected to the mysterious death of Charles Augustus Magnussen, the media mogul. Sherlock was involved, somehow, but the details never came out, and within a week he was gone.

She’d asked John about it, but he just shook his head. His wife had left him by then, suddenly and without explanation. She was pregnant, expecting a little girl, and they’d seemed happy about it. 

Gone, he told Molly. The baby wasn’t his. Mary wasn’t what he’d thought. He didn’t know anything about Sherlock, but his look told her what he believed. He wouldn’t be coming back this time.

It was disorienting, as if reality were unravelling, revealing another, very different reality beneath.  

Greg was the one stable thing during that time. He could make no sense of Sherlock’s sudden disappearance, either, and when John left too, he seemed as surprised as Molly. 

“I never understood it,” he told her. “Those two. They loved each other. Never understood what went wrong.”

She’d replied that when Sherlock returned after faking his death, they never really worked it out. Rubbish at talking, those two. 

She and Greg talked. A death could be mourned. It was a different kind of grief when people simply left and you didn’t hear from them again. 

That was when they’d started seeing one another, having coffee, and then dinner, and eventually moving in together. The wedding was a small affair, just Greg’s kids and a few close friends. After a few years, Molly gave up working at the morgue and began teaching. A few years later, Greg retired, then started working as a consultant. They had a nice life, she often thought.

The restaurant where she’s meeting him is a new one in their neighbourhood. Da Vinci, it’s called. An Italian bistro. They’ve been meaning to try it since it opened, and tonight they have a reservation. 

Arriving a bit early, she takes a seat in the waiting area after letting the hostess know she’s still waiting for her husband, and takes out her phone to check for messages. 

15 minutes, he texts. 

Tucking her phone away, she notices that someone else is waiting. She glances at him and startles as if she’s seen a ghost. 

He’s standing, a tall, thin man with dark hair sprinkled with grey. Not the luxuriant curls he used to wear; it’s cropped closer now. He’s wearing a black pullover and light wool trousers, no jewel-coloured shirt or dashing coat. The face is older, but the eyes have not changed. The colour of water, she’d always thought. Nobody, not even his brother, has eyes like that. 

Those pale eyes are fixed on his phone, and he’s smiling. Glancing up, he clearly recognises her. An odd look crosses his features, as if he is not sure what such a moment calls for. 

“Molly Hooper,” he says. 

“Sherlock.” 

All those years ago, before he left, he needed her help and told her his plan. Those two years were very different for her, her grief mostly for the people who believed him dead— Mrs Hudson, Greg, and especially John. John had never really recovered from the shock of it. When Sherlock returned, he resented Molly because she’d been taken into Sherlock’s confidence, and he had not. And Sherlock, who’d insisted on the secrecy mostly for John’s sake, had gone about his grand return all wrong. He never really got back on the right foot with John, who soon married a woman he’d just met. Sometimes Molly thought he’d done it to spite Sherlock, or at least to keep a safe distance from him. He never fully trusted Sherlock after that. But the love was still there. She could see the pain in his eyes when Sherlock left again. 

Rising from her seat, she goes to him. 

What do you say after eighteen years?

“When did you get back?”

“Just a few weeks ago.” He gives her a tentative smile. “I’m officially retired.”

How old is he? He’s about her age, so maybe mid-fifties. She supposes that undercover agents don’t have long careers. Though he’s still good-looking, she can see that the years have worn him down. A weariness hangs on him, so different from the manic man who swooped into her morgue and demanded body parts. 

“You’re not retired,” he says. “You’re teaching in the pathology programme at Barts. And you’re married. Obviously.”

She laughs. “Can you deduce anything about my husband?”

He cocks his head and narrows his eyes. “Mrs Lestrade. You have a daughter, fourteen. She picked out your earrings.”

“Greg is on his way. He’ll be so happy to see you. Would you join us for dinner?”

“I’m expecting someone as well.”

That’s when she notices the ring. “You’re married.”

“Only just.” He suppresses a grin, glances at his phone again. “Says he’s running a bit late.”

Like everyone who knew Sherlock, she’s suspected that he’s gay. When she realised this, it made it easier to accept his lack of interest in her. An odd man, one who avoided sentiment; but clearly in love with his flatmate. 

She might ask about John. But John has been gone for years, too, and she doesn’t know anyone who hears from him, not even Mike Stamford, who told her that he’d joined Doctors Without Borders. That was years ago. 

“It’s so good to see you,” she repeats, unable to think of anything else to say. 

“You as well.” He nods at the door. “Looks like your husband has arrived.”

Greg has caught sight of them and is standing, a look of stunned amazement on his face. He gives a short laugh and strides across the waiting area. “Sherlock Holmes,” he says, throwing his arms around his old friend. “In the flesh, once again.”

“Not quite as sensationally as the last time,” Sherlock says. “I’m old news now. More accurately, no news at all.”

“We never heard anything,” Greg says, stepping towards Molly and planting a kiss on her cheek. “All I could get out of your brother was that you were working for the government. The only way I knew anything at all was from talking with John—“

Molly cringes and Greg seems to realise he’s said the wrong thing. 

“Mycroft believed it was critical to keep it all confidential,” Sherlock says. “In those days I’d been so much in the news, he was attempting to keep me out of the spotlight.”

“But you were on a mission, weren’t you?”

Molly takes Greg’s arm. “Won’t you sit with us, Sherlock? I’m sure you don’t want to be discussing this here.”

Sherlock speaks to the hostess while Greg and Molly are led to a table for four. Following them, he takes his seat, asks for a glass of wine, and fiddles with his napkin. 

“Tell us about your husband,” Molly says. “Where did you meet?”

His eyes twinkle. “In Kazakhstan. We were on a flight from Beijing that had engine trouble, had to set down in the middle of nowhere. From there, we were bussed to a small hotel, where he and I ended up being roommates for the night.”

“Love at first sight?” she asks.

He pauses, his lips twitching in a smile. “I felt as if I already knew him. We wasted no time in getting married.”

Molly tries to imagine the Sherlock she knew marrying a man on an impulse. Or marrying anyone. He’d proposed to a woman once, but that was for a case. He wasn’t like that, when she knew him.

“Where’s he from?” Greg asks. “What kind of work does he do?”

“Geneva is his home base, but he’s now relocated to London. He’s… a doctor.”

“You seem really happy,” Molly says. “I’m so glad.”

“I am happy.” Sherlock looks a bit surprised by this. “He’s everything I could ever want.”

They fall silent, sipping their wine and looking at the menu. 

“Ah, here he is!” Sherlock’s face lights up in a way Molly has never seen. He’s standing, looking towards the door, impatiently rubbing his hands on his trousers, as if he can hardly restrain himself from running across the room. He waves. 

Molly and Greg turn to see what kind of man could put that look on the face of Sherlock Holmes. 

A short man in a trim suit, greying hair and beard, glasses. As he catches sight of Sherlock, he grins and opens his arms. They meet halfway in an embrace. 

John Watson.

“Blimey.” Greg shakes his head. “Another ghost returns.”

@lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @bertytravelsfar @momma2boys @jrow @helloliriels @the-reading-lemon @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @elwinglyre @mydogwatson @thetimemoves @jobooksncoffee @lhrinchelsea @peanitbear @gregorovitchworld @7-percent @shiplocks-of-love @khorazir @gaylilsherlock @catlock-holmes @the-reading-lemon @a-victorian-girl @discordantwords

1506 words / Flash Fiction

Thank you all, readers and writers, for participating in this prompt fest! And thank you to @notjustamumj for starting us off, inspiring us with her prompts. It's been fun to wake up to lovely, fluffy, angsty little stories each day, but this is our last prompt. We'll have to do this again! Thank you 💕 and keep writing!

If any of you writers have posted your daily stories for these prompts in a collection or series on AO3, please share a link to them. Mine can be found here: Trifles Two.

If love’s elastic, then were we born to test its reach?

nick & charlie + kisses | "season 2 trailer"

Back on the bench

And again, and again…

He doesn’t feel things that way … I don’t think

I was finally able to start the romance route with Jel AND BOI I LOVE HIM SO MUCH ;;

THIS IS EXACTLY HOW IT HAPPENED AND YOU CANT CHANGE MY MIND!

I am weak for this domestic kind of fluff 😭💙🙌🏼

Casey Jones Jr. [Past] (1/3)

Light the World Challenge for today: Music brightens the mood. Share a song with someone today 😊

One of my favorite quotes is “If art is how we fill up space, then music is how we fill up time.”

I think that’s a beautiful statement because discovery or creation of music is inevitably the discovery and creation of ourselves. Another form of self expression that can be shared to the enjoyment of everybody around.

As such I’d like to share my favorite song with y’all today: it’s called ‘Wildflowers’ by Maddie Poppe.

My feelings associated with this song can be summed in the words of my favorite poet, Nikita Gill.

If anybody wants to swap and talk about music, I’m all ears 😄🧡🙌🏼

Y’all I’m healing with this. Come vibe in this with me 😭🙌🏼💙💜

Baby’s first time clinging

I swear you could associate the 4 phases of this song (every time the melody switches) to each panel and youd get a pretty damn good picture of how im feeling

Again, the healing hug I needed to see. Bless you 🙏🏼😖💙❤️

THeYrE bRoThErS aNd tHeY lOvE eAcH oThEr, Your Honor.

His bones may be broken, but his heart? So light

Can you tell ive been listening to this ost

Howdy Friends! I updated my "A Little Ninja's Mission" story a wee bit and put it on Archive of our own. Here's the link if you wanna check it out.

He needs this. I think honestly we all do 🥺💙💔❤️‍🩹🙌🏼

I am not immune to Future!Leo angst.

Just… gimme a minute… y’all. These two need to have this conversation. These two have gone through so much and to see this drawn so beautifully AND with a written snippet just ugggggg my heart.

I need a hug yall, these feelings getting too intense to keep dealing with by myself 😆😅😭💔💙✨

The hologram of his loved one sizzled softly in silence till the blue light disappeared, leaving the stars twinkling sadly before them. Casey can only feel his throat closed up with a choking sob yet no sound comes from it but the gentle sniffles of grief. Grief, he almost laughed, grief is supposed to be something that happens once in a while yet for him it’s everyday, for him it’s Master Raph, for him it’s Master Donnie, for him it’s his loving mom, for him it’s Commander O’neil, for him it’s Master Michelangelo, for him…it’s Master Leonardo, and now everyone until he is the only sole evidence his world exists. He doesn’t want to get attached to this world, to the people who are still living, and breathing and so alive because inevitably- they will disappear, just like everyone who he loved in his life. “You know…” the young Leonardo spoke uncharacteristically, without charisma, without energy, without anything that made Leo Leo. “I don’t know what it’s like to lose everyone in one day.” he whispered, the turtle’s hand still holding onto Casey in a reassuring manner with his gaze still stuck on where his holographic future-self used to be “But I know what it’s like to grieve.” he chuckled tiredly, Casey could only lean close yet he still refuse to look at Leo “There was this line dad said when he finally opened up his trauma to us.” a silent pause took place for a moment, until he continued “There is a type of love that is only experienced through sadness, and a type of joy that is only experienced through grief.” In the cold wind and the gentle lullaby of twinkling lights, his eyes slightly widen. “Pain is the price that we pay for love, and the only way to not feel pain is to never feel love.” Casey finally looked at Leo, his sole reason on wanting to get rid of these fond feelings when he sees this worlds’ family, the feeling of where Raph will teach him how to wrestle, where Donnie will rant about science, where his mom will call him into crazy adventures, where Mikey will make him eat different types of food, where April will teach him about the outside human world, where Splinter will let him watch TV with him, or where Leo will make so many bad and cringey jokes. Where everything made Casey so happy. “But love is what makes life meaningful, so don’t stop loving Casey.” “Because we sure hell will never stop loving you.” Casey felt safe arms around him, hugging him in such a familiar way it made him finally burst. To cry out how unfair the universe is to him, how unfair that he has to grow up in a time with no rest, with no moment of clarity, with no moment to tell everyone he loves that he misses them, he misses them so much. Leo didn’t say anything anymore, yet his soft hums will tell Casey- ‘I’m here, we are here, we will not leave you anymore.’ And for a moment, and maybe tomorrow, that would be enough for him to keep on smiling, to keep on being genuinely happy, to keep holding on. ‘Anatawa Hitorijanai.’ He could hear Master Leonardo whisper to him. ‘Anatawa Hitorijanai.’ ———————————— (some lines here are from Cinema Therapy because those guys can make me cry like a lil bitch, so anyways, we need more angst fuel for my boy Casey cus my man needs to reach his angst potential like our turtle bois >:((( )

(I also apologize if there is typos, its been long since i ever type a long ass story!!) 

*openly weeps*

Guys…they did it. They finally did it. They had the talk. They had the hug.

I’ve been waiting for so long 🫢😖🤧😭🙌🏼💙🧡✨

"You're not a bad person-- you're young. And you're doing your best"

read the latest chapter of T&E this morning... it's gotta be my fav future Leo fic

under the cut: a glitch with the background that I thought looked cool as well

*cries in comment section* YALL UNDERSTAND WHAT PEEPAW LEO IS SAYING HERE RIGHT!?

HES SAVING THE WORLD BUSY BECAUSE CASEY IS HIS WHOLE WORLD. THAT IS HIS SON😖❤️‍🩹💙🙌🏼😭

This family has a chokehold on my heart and it ain’t letting go anytime soon.

Also Donnie is afraid of emotional contagion change my mind

Part 4!

I love the "parent sits at the kid's bedside all day" trope, but Leo has a whole bunch of people he has to worry about :т

Also, I know that their size compared to each other is constantly changing. Do I want to monitor this more closely? Nope

Part 1

Anyone gonna mention that here thanks to the beautiful (aNd InCreDibLy PaInFuL) work of @somerandomdudelmao that we see THE Donnie, who is known to be touch adverse most of the time, is so scared, hurt, frustrated, lonely (what other Donnified adjective that fits) is not only actively ReAcHiNg, but using whatever little strength he has to get to Casey, to HOLD him as fast as he can.

Anyone? Or is that just me?

(All artwork belongs to the incredibly talented @somerandomdudelmao)