Gin and Bitterness

Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating: G
Setting: Dark Dog Days universe
Characters: Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock Holmes
Word Count: 472

General Summary: Upon reuniting with each other after Sherlock's 3 year disappearance, the Holmes brothers find themselves unusually speechless.

Author’s Note: A short piece I wrote in July 2012. Loosely inspired by the song "Jet Lag" by Frank Turner.


It had been almost three years.

Raising tired eyes, Mycroft Holmes observed his brother quietly, refusing - for once - to break the silence first. Across from him, Sherlock Holmes did much the same thing.

Three years.

The three years on the run had taken a surprising toll on the detective.

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Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating: G
Characters: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Word Count: 406

General Summary: It's been a week since Sherlock Holmes was buried in a closed casket funeral, and Molly Hooper would like him to just get a bit of rest before leaving the country.

Author’s Note: 1Just a short piece I wrote in January 2012 after series two aired in the UK.


“Those will kill you, you know.” Molly watched from her end of the sofa as Sherlock Holmes lit a cigarette and took a long, needy drag. ”I thought you quit.”

“Don’t make jokes Molly.” Sherlock exhaled appreciatively and gave her a dead-eyed stare, then reproachfully, “I can’t have any cases. I’m bored.”

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Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (general Victorian era)
Rating: G
Setting: During the Great Hiatus
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Word Count: 378

General Summary: It is raining in London, and Doctor John Watson misses his friend. Meanwhile, Sherlock Holmes is alive and well, and very much misses London and the doctor.

Author’s Note: I originally posted this to Tumblr on 27 July 2011.


It was raining in London, and Dr. John Watson found himself once more stopping in the street, his collar turned up against the damp, hat pulled down low over his brow, but failing to prevent streams of water from forming on the back of his neck and his face. Frozen in place, he gazed up against the rain at the distant window of his old lodgings at Baker Street.

This was the third such moment in the past week, and probably the hundredth since he had been forced to bury Mary. Mary who he had tried in vain to save. Mary who had loved him despite his need to constantly be by the side of one Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

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