Relaxing doodles with some Animation style Granada!Sherlock
(Thought it’s barely Cabinlock, if I’m honest. This is really silly. I’ll add a picture to go with his later. This is my first proper drabble, I think. But it’s valentines and I needed to put SOMETHING up )
“And then I had to ask how many people are in a bobsled team, which embarrassing in a whole other fashion, but anyway the thing I was trying to say was would you speak to Mycroft about it for me?”
John looked from his lounging position on the couch. Sure enough, Sherlock was clomping up the stairs, trailed by his half-brother.
“Why are we asking Mycroft about bobsleds?” John smiled, folding the newspaper.
Sherlock ignored him to disappear into the kitchen (and with him the suspiciously unmarked cooler) while John and Martin shook hands in greeting.
“Oh that’s not about Mycroft. It’s uh…..about…Oh, you know. History.”
“SEXUAL history, John!” Sherlock called from the kitchen.
Guys I accidentally comic.
Oscar November Echo is about Sherlock and Martin, and why Sherlock hasn’t introduced Martin to Molly yet. You’ll see. Part ONE is currently eight pages long. Updates as they come. Eventual Martin/Molly and probably some less then platonic flatmates.
NEXT PAGE HERE
noshitmycroft asked:I have no idea whether you have done a similar request before, but I’d love to see Sherlock and Martin in some sort of angsty hurt/comfort situation, even if it might end up a little OOC. :’3Sorry, I’m so awful at angst, it kinda…shifted but into just bonding. They are supposed to be University!Sherlock and Teenage!MartinAND prettybirdy979 WAS SO NICE AND WROTE A LITTLE EXTRA FOR ME!“Freak!” A fist slams into my eye.
“Bastard!” This time into my side. A third punch is thrown but I block it- he has his two punches, I refuse to allow more. Another punch, unexpectedly strong, glances off my forehead. I step back.
“Are you finished?” I ask coldly.
“You are a monster. No wonder no one likes you!” My fellow student screams at me. “You don’t understand love!”
“Neither do you.” I retort and dodge the flailing arm- I refuse to call that a punch.
Sherlock was drawn out of his memories by a sharp pain as he knocked the scab off the small cut on his forehead. He swore under his breath as he dropped the brush in his hand and reached for the tissues.
The door opened behind him and he froze.
“Sherlock!” Martin exclaimed as he entered the room they were sharing and noticed Sherlock. “What happened?”
Sherlock met his brother’s eyes in the mirror. He was still attempting stop the bleeding of the small cut on his forehead, hands full of bloody tissue. Below the mirror was a large supply of makeup, some of which was all over his hands.
“A minor disagreement.” Sherlock said. “It’s nothing. A few more minutes and you would have never known it happened.”
“Sherlock, you’re bleeding!” Martin said, still focused on the cut. “Here, let me!”
He moved across the room and pushed his older brother on his bed. Sherlock tried to lock his limbs so Martin couldn’t move him. But Martin accidentally knocked into his left side, specifically the bruise there and he winced which allowed Martin to gain the momentum to move him.
Sherlock sat on the bed, glaring at Martin as his brother grabbed the first aid supplies Sherlock had been using and sat beside him.
“Now, hold still.” He said, as Sherlock deliberately turned his head.
“I don’t need your help.” Sherlock winced again as Martin managed to put a glaze on the cut. Martin kept his hand over the glaze as he tried to place a piece of tape on it to keep it in place.
“I’m offering anyway.” He muttered. “Who did this?”
“Someone who disagrees with my assessment of their girlfriend’s fidelity. Considering they are cheating, I merely commented that her actions were no worse than his. He disagreed.” Sherlock hid a wince as Martin brushed his black eye while attempting to get the second piece of tape to stick.
“Why did they have to hit you though?” Martin said. “You’re only pointing out facts.They shouldn’t cheat- hold still!”
“I’m fine!” Sherlock declared. “I can handle it myself.”
“Why are you hiding these injuries though? Normally you just use them as a mark of how stupid everyone else is.” Martin muttered as he reached for a bandaid and began to run his fingers through Sherlock’s hair checking for other injuries.
“I saw no reason to concern you.” Sherlock said, looking the other way.
Martin had put the bandaid between his teeth as he checked for further injuries and could not reply.
Oh my word, I am so sorry!
I’d like you to draw Sherlock with some characters of other TV shows (like…Sheldon Cooper from Bing Bang Theory…….)
I plan to draw more Sherlock crossovers, but needed a place holder while I catch up with other requests too! Rizzoli and Isles and Sherlock and John probably being next, because, MY WORD.
“It was humiliating, Douglas. I was a stranger at my own brother’s funeral!”
Douglas looked up from hefting the luggage into the cargo hold, for once not complaining about Martin not doing his share (which seems to usually be Douglas’ share too). “Well, at least your first flight back will be a nice peaceful trip. Nothing interesting ever happens in Switzerland.”
Martin nodded, distracted before suddenly scrambling to do his part in the lifting. But with one passenger it was mostly just their bags. “What’s the name of…”
“Sigerson, I think. It was all a bit last minute, wasn’t it?”
“Mmm…Douglas, do you mind if I, uh…wait in the flight deck? I mean, not wait, I will do being some,ah, preliminary checks and the like, you know…pilot…pilot stuff.”
“Of course, Martin, take all the time you need.”
Martin made it up the steps before turning back. “Douglas? Could you stop being so…”
“…being, sir? I’m not being anything at all.”
“NICE, Douglas, you’re being nice. It’s….odd. I think it will be easier if we just do things the usual way. Get back into the swing of things. Return to life as normal. All right?”
“…..if that’s what you want, sir.”
“It is. I think. Thank you. Call me out when he gets here, I’ll come greet him.”
“All right. Oh, and Martin? Tissues in the locker.”
“…….thank you, Douglas.”
“Skip! Passenger’s here, come out to greet him?” Arthur popped his head into the flight deck.
Martin looked up and hastily wiped his face. Arthur had the grace to say nothing as he followed Martin down the steps.
The man approaching them wore a wide brimmed hat, dark glasses and a tight lipped expression. He limped with a cane, black and decorated, leaning heavily on it in a way that spoke of pain. His stride was long and quick despite this. He looked over the plane with disinterest, which wasn’t the usual customer response. Douglas strode beside and slightly behind, no doubt being very clever. However, it didn’t seem that the guest was very interested in what Douglas had to say.
Martin sighed. Sherlock, no doubt, would have an awful lot to say about this man. Probably some anecdote about his shoe still or something.
“Ah, here we are,” Douglas said as they approached. “Arthur Shappey, steward, and Martin Crieff, Captain. And this of course, is Mr. Sigerson, passenger.”
Sigerson nodded and extended a hand. “Captain.”
Martin reached out and punched the man straight across the face, sending glasses and hat flying.
Martin didn’t OFTEN hit people. Simon had always been the bully that way, and he hadn’t been in a physically fight with Sherlock since they were both barely pubescent. He’d never seen Mycroft hit anybody. Mummy-Holmes wouldn’t have approved. She was very French that way. But Martin had been in a few fights since. He tended to reach the end of his rope and then snap. He’d hit that boy in Helsinki, he’d taken a swing at Douglas once, and now he’d punched a dead man.
He looked down at him, fist raised as though to hit him again. But his fury was already fading into a shaking fear.
“I suppose I deserved that,” Sherlock cast his eyes away, rubbing his red cheek. Martin was too distracted to notice how genuinely upset his half-brother was.
“What….What the bloody hell…”
“No, NO, Sherlock, you’ve been dead for WEEKS and then you show up here like—! Just expect me to take you to Switzerland without so much as a-!” Martin shook, his fist his shoulders and his head. “No! No no no you can’t treat me like this! I won’t, I can’t, NO, Sherlock!”
Martin turned on his heel and started away, back towards the plane. Douglas and Arthur stared unashamedly, quite frozen in place. Sherlock however scrambled forward.
Sherlock had not called Martin “Sherry” since before he left for university. At least, not in a tone that was anything short of mocking. Sherringford was a bit of a mouthful, after all, especially for a young boy with a lisp. So come summer, Martin was Sherry. And Sherlock was…
“…I-I…I need your help, Sherry. Please.”
Martin regarded him seriously. With a sigh he started up the steps again. “All right, Sherly, come on. You can tell me on the way. No doubt Mycroft is expecting you in Switzerland.”
((This is the script I wrote for a comic, but decided I didn’t want to draw so much angst))
…trying to think of stories they could do, because there are some great ones. But what I really hope is that they do Three Garridebs as the second episode. And John is still all mad at Sherlock for the fall, so when he gets hurt and sees how much Sherlock cares he has no choice but to forgive him. Because come oooon. He lovers you John,
don’tmake him prove it.
Page 6, last page! The end!
Martin is fluent in Holmesian, just like John.