The Story of A Girl who Watches Too Much Television and Rewrites Fiction with her Own Reality. Hijinks ensue.
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
Sometimes the boys need a day off.
Since she was little, Molly Hooper was always the brilliant one. She might have been shy or not that good in getting new friends, but from the time she first went to school, she was the smartest kid in the class.
Then she grew insecure, but it wasn’t always like this. To be honest, the annoying feeling of not being good enough started when she met Sherlock and he just couldn’t see her. And then there was everyone else. Of course, who was she compared to the great Sherlock Holmes? So she kept living with the thought that she was always the second best, and she always felt that she’s forgotten something, something she missed so terribly.
And then, when she thought nothing would ever change, he said it.
‘You do count.’
It was the first time he actually saw her. Or maybe first time he let her see he sees her. Anyway, it was the moment when Molly Hooper finally remembered an old friend and the thing he asked her never to forget.
She was brilliant.
omfg yes
OMG OMG I WANT THIS SO HARD
don’t mind me I just started crying because I want this so damn bad.
dear god, YES.
“People have waited hundreds of years to find me, and then you manage it in a couple of hours.”
*massive grin* This is properly, properly wicked editing. ^_^
YES THIS PLEASE.
(Source: inappropriations)
Amy’s eyes were cold, her lips set into thin line. She was watching him carefully.
“James Moriarty.”, she said quietly.
“”Amelia Pond. Or should I say Amy Williams?”, Moriarty smiled widely. “Such a nice surprise. It’s wonderful to see you again.”
Amy closed her eyes for a briefest moment.
“When I was travelling with the Doctor he showed me many things and creatures. Some of them were beautiful. Some of them were monstrous. I guess I forgot that the worst monster I’ve ever known lives here, on Earth.”
Moriarty shook his head.
“Doctor, Doctor, always this precious Doctor. Are you gonna say he taught you everything?”
Amy smiled sadly and aimed the gun.
“No. Some things I’ve learned by myself.”
(Source: watchhimdance)
“I’m looking for a blonde in a Union Jack. A particular one, mind you. I didn’t just wake up this morning with a craving.”
(Source: reapersun)
Trolling the Sherlock tag and someone found out about Wholock and thought it was a real thing
Like, that Moffat had plans and they wanted none of that.
moriarty/eleven, ‘you’re a habit, another bad habit’
“I’m through saving them,” the Doctor says, eyes on Jim’s hands, because like all the greatest evils in the multiverse, they only move when he’s not looking. “I’ve told you.”
Jim’s smile is a tragedy in and of itself, rough edges caught on the wind. Under his palm, the button blinks red, and he’d think it was all a little predictable if that wasn’t what Jim wanted him to think.
“Doctor, Doctor,” Jim says, sing-song, “who asked you to?”
—
They meet on the edge of the first, the third, the hundred-thousandth war the Doctor shouldn’t have gotten involved in. Moriarty’s hands are so clean that they’re dirty, and the Doctor knows better than to take the drink he’s offered.
He’s so old, and so alone. This is a terrible mistake, but then again, most things are.
“So,” Moriarty says, “I suppose you’re here to tell me to calm down, do stop with the murdering, people get so cross—”
“Actually,” the Doctor says, “I was rather thinking you might enjoy all of time and space.”
Moriarty raises an eyebrow, sips his tea. When he steps inside the TARDIS, he doesn’t blink, and this is a terrible mistake, but he’s not sorry.
—
“So I’m a companion,” Jim says, “and not your first, either. Do tell, Doctor, I’m sure there’s a story there, I’m just dying to hear it.”
The Doctor doesn’t bother asking how he knows; he’s discovered that, left to his own devices, Jim learns things. They’re dancing, now, around the inescapable end the Doctor is running from (hurtling headlong towards), around the truth of what happened in the Time War, and around this, too. The Doctor is surprised, actually, to see Jim has broken this early; he’d thought he had at least one more strange curiosity of the universe between himself and this conversation.
Needs must, though, so the Doctor runs a hand across the TARDIS’s console and then launches forward, pinning Jim to the door.
“For everything else you might be,” he says, voice carefully even, “you are still, always, a human. Don’t play games with me; don’t ever think you’re capable of that.”
Jim smiles, delighted, showing teeth. “Touchy, touchy,” he murmurs, “did you think I was after your little pets? Perhaps I just wanted a bedtime story.”
The Doctor meets his eyes—the howling hunger there is at war with the youth belaying it, and (always, always) he feels as ancient as the dust of worlds long since vanished into the ether.
“I don’t know why I suffer you,” he mutters, and Jim raises his eyebrows, his pitch, trills out, “Yes you do.”
—
He is lonely and he is dying and the Pandorica might as well have been built for James Moriarty and the Doctor can’t look away, he’s an implosion and a fixed point at once, a contradiction in terms, humans shouldn’t be able to wrongfoot him like this and he’s curious, he’s just curious, until the day he can’t let go.
—
“No one,” the Doctor says, “everyone,” and Jim smiles, shakes his head, blows a kiss, pushes the button.
I ACTUALLY HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS GOING ON HERE BUT I LIKE IT.
