He was curious.
I HOPE YOU ALL DIDN’T THINK I WAS KIDDING ABOUT MY SOCIAL JUSTICE WARRIOR IDEA
a present for ryn~~~~
don’t forget about your soldiers, boys!!!!
that’s right, wouldn’t judesie be a perfect moran
he has blue eyes, blond hair, and is white
Jim Moriarty during the Great Game, waiting for Sherlock to update his website.
a surgeon, judging by your hands.
Mary and Watson show Holmes how you really crossdress.
Or maybe it’s what they do in their spare time, idk.
‘Together, we make Christmas.’
For my dear Ziona, who turned 21 on Friday. Also, totally alluding to our own House Sortings.
And a hint that she should make those scarves. *cough cough*
jdskglksdfjgslkdfgjsdflkgjsdflkgjsdlkfgj swaaaaaaaay <3333333
i haven’t been feeling the love for sherlock recently but i have all of the love for sway and our reverse hogwarts sorting <3
omg ziona <333
‘Isn’t putting on make-up much easier with friends around?’
Korra would agree if she wasn’t so distracted by how Asami’s lipstick manages to stay perfect after that rather fantastic snog.
Sherlock Holmes of House Vernius. The name was worthless here in Sietch Tabr on Arrakis. His training in the weirding way and observation skills was still useful amongst the Fremen, but Mycroft’s superior Truthsaying was less so. His older brother’s abilities were prevalent in the political forest, not the desert wasteland of Dune.
Still, the planet was not without it’s upsides. The Freman accepted (albeit grudgingly) the two exiled brothers after the Naib’s son insisted. Sherlock thought Jhon had the bluest eyes he had ever seen - even after he met the rest of the Fremen in the sietch. Jhon found them after their week long journey to no-where in the middle of the desert. He brought them to his home and let them use one of his many rings to get water. Sherlock didn’t think water could taste so sweet.
Sherlock learnt that the water rings were the currency of the Fremen, and Jhon was considered ‘rich’. They called him El-Sayal, or ‘rain of sand’. He was one of the best worm riders in the entire sietch and would often go riding for his own enjoyment, either coming back relaxed and mellow or with a whole new collection of bodies for the deathstill as well as supplies. The rain of sand… that brings moisture.
He crept out late at night to find Jhon holstering his maula pistol before pulling the maker hooks from his Fremkit. Jhon was riding again tonight. Sherlock made a fast decision and rushed out to his friend as quietly as he could.
‘Take me with you,’ he demanded once he reached Jhon.
Jhon turned in surprise. ‘What?’
‘You’re going sandriding. I want to go with you.’
Jhon snorted. ‘You haven’t even taken the sandriding trial, Baz. I’m sorry, but not now.’
Baz. Jhon’s Fremen name for Sherlock. Falcon. Sherlock thought it fit, at least, much better than the whispered Mahdi from others around the sietch when they thought he couldn’t hear them. He hated it. He was no more their prophetic saviour than Mycroft was, and as much as it pained him, he felt Mycroft would be better suited to that role. Yes, they were born on another planet of a Bene Gesserit mother who trained them in the organisation’s ways, but so were many other people. Sherlock personally thought it would be Victor of House Atreides. Jhon told him there was a good chance either of Holmes brothers could be the Fremen Mahdi despite what Sherlock insisted.
Sherlock didn’t let Jhon deter him from his current purpose. ‘You are capable of carrying multiple corpses with you as you ride back to the sietch. Surely you can take one living body outside of it.’
Jhon stilled for a moment, considering Sherlock’s words, before sighing. Sherlock knew he won their argument - again. He prudently kept his triumphant grin off his face as Jhon turned back to face him. The Fremen man pointed a finger in Sherlock’s direction and said seriously, ‘If you really wish to do this, you must follow everything I say. Immediately. Without talking back.’
‘Of course.’ His grin finally broke through when Jhon pulled out a thumper from the kit.
When he was atop the sandworm, clutching at Jhon and watching the dawn rise in front of them, Sherlock never felt more alive.
Miss Violet Hunter still had axel grease in her hair and smudged on her cheeks. John thought she was very pretty, in her own way. The freckles splattered across her nose seemed to complement her messy chestnut hair and her piercing brown eyes. She was dressed in her work clothes – a brass corset over a white puff-sleeved blouse and a set of tan breeches also smudged with grease and paint. Her leather boots were extremely shiny, and she wore a cropped leather jacket held together by brass frogs. A set of goggles nestled in her hair.
This fic is a WIP and a steampunk AU where everyone has assigned occupations. It’s rather fascinating how this author is combining Sherlock canon and the original Holmes canon to create this story - I’m so in love. Especially with their Violet Hunter, who will forever remain my favourite female character from the books. I have absolutely no idea if the author imagined her as dark skinned, but meh. Reader’s licence. In the fic she’s a Mechanic who specialises in creating replicas of living creatures. She’s become a main character in the fic which only increases my love~