marysutherland: (Tanya Moodie)
BBC Sherlock

Rating: 12 (non-explicit femslash)

Summary: Anthea's trip to the opera brings some strange effects

Many thanks to Kalypso for betaing

Several months ago, fengirl made some requests for the Five Acts meme. She asked for sleep and bedding themes and her pairings included Anthea/Ella or Anthea/ACD!Irene. Inspired by her Sleeping Beauty sequence, this is the result.

It feels strange to Anthea, going to the opera without Ella, but Ella’s in London and she’s in New York, so going together isn’t a realistic option. )

Part 2
marysutherland: (Anthea)
BBC Sherlock
Rating 12 (non-explicit femslash)
No spoilers for Series 3

Notes: this was inspired by A Strange Adventure by fengirl88 and is a different take on the controversial opera described in that.

The advantage of working for Mycroft Holmes is that he often gets offered hospitality by his contacts, and when he doesn't want the latest treat, he passes it on to Anthea. And two free tickets to the opera means she can take Ella out somewhere; they've had to cut back recently, with their current financial situation.

The disadvantage is there's normally a reason why Mycroft doesn't want his gifts and Anthea's now realising what it is. ENO is less stuffy than Covent Garden and she'd thought Ella would enjoy Die Fledermaus. But she should have known that ENO and Strauss is a conceptual disaster waiting to happen.

Anthea's spotted Mycroft's pet policeman in the audience, so the director might yet get arrested for crimes against taste. And though she's cringing at every new revelation, Ella is surprisingly unruffled as she consults her programme at the interval.

"I see someone still loves Freud," Ella announces. "He's misunderstood him completely, of course, but that's probably the point."

"It is?"

"It's the director's vision that matters, everyone else just exists to serve his genius. A common pattern."

"We don't have to stay," Anthea says hastily, because she can sense where this is going.

"It's OK," Ella says more cheerfully, "but next time perhaps we should pick something ourselves, not just accept your boss's bribes."

marysutherland: (Tanya Moodie)

BBC Sherlock/ACD Sherlock crossover

Rating 12 (implicit femslash and het)

Spoilers: for A Scandal in Belgravia

Summary: Anthea and Ella do a bit of literary detective work.

A couple of months ago, fengirl88 had a five acts meme asking for writing and Anthea/Ella or Anthea/ACD!Irene. That prompt somehow turned into this.

Many thanks to the Small Hobbit for betaing

"I found something curious on Ms Adler's phone, Anthea," Mycroft announces, and she freezes, wondering if any of her friends might have been involved with Irene. )

marysutherland: (Default)

BBC Sherlock

Rating 12 (slash)

As Ella asked John another question about his dreams that he really didn't want to answer he heard the door behind him open. And then a familiar voice announced: "No time for this. I need you right now, John."

"Sherlock, I'm busy!"

"You're interrupting my therapy, Mr Holmes," Ella protested.

"Am I? I thought I was simplifying it," Sherlock said, grinning wickedly. "You were discussing me, of course – hence not only annoyance, but actual alarm when I appeared. And from the blush spreading on John's face, you'd just asked him a particularly sensitive question. So rather than you ineffectively attempting to establish what his feelings about me are, let me simply demonstrate."

He swung round to John, who opened his mouth to protest, and then found it mysteriously wrapped round Sherlock's tongue as they kissed. And why had his body not previously noticed how much it longed to curl into Sherlock's grasp?

"John," Sherlock breathed, "John...John! Are you listening to what I'm saying? Have you fallen asleep over there?"

"What?" John demanded, trying and failing to stand up from a chair that had abruptly relocated itself back to 221B.

"You were thrashing about just now. Were you having a nightmare?" Sherlock's gaze - calm, impersonal  - travelled over John.

"No," John replied with resignation. "Not a nightmare. Just...very bizarre."


All I Do is Dream of You

marysutherland: (Default)
BBC Sherlock

Rating: PG (pre-slash, femslash)

Sequels to PC world


Sally Donovan was straight, always had been. Straight talking, calling a spade a spade, a freak a freak. A straight copper, no dodgy business. Playing it by the rules, no-one loved mavericks, well, not black, female mavericks.

Though she wasn't all straight, of course. She'd never straightened her hair, that would be running away from herself. And not exactly strait-laced anymore, not like when she and her mother went along to the Church of God of Prophecy every Sunday and Wednesday. Good job her mother never heard about Anderson. In the police, it was hard to get to know anyone but colleagues and lowlife, but combining the two had been a serious mistake.

It had been about an hour into their first interview, conversation, that Ella had said she was a lesbian. Sally had made some stupid joke about whether she was disabled as well, tick off all the quotas in one person. Ella said nothing for a while, she was good at that. And then she said that maintaining boundaries was important, and she was always careful not to let her sexuality make her straight friends feel uncomfortable.

Ella did straighten her hair sometimes, but she wasn't running away from herself. An impressive woman, Ella. Sally wondered for the first time whether it might be good to be slightly bent.


Ella always studied her clients’ service records carefully, almost memorised them, so she knew about the three years of her life Sally didn’t mention. But Sally wasn’t a client anymore, but a friend, maybe something more. Ella didn’t ask and Sally didn’t tell, till the day when Ella mentioned Mozart, and Sally said:

“Miss Thorpe tried to get me into him.”

“Miss Thorpe?”

“My geography teacher.”

Ella said nothing.

“It was all part of teaching me about culture. Seeking out the best, she said, nothing should be off limits.”

Keep quiet a little longer, thought Ella.

“You know where I went to uni, don’t you?”

“It’s very impressive,“ Ella replied, “Not many black women get to Cambridge.”

“Down to Miss Thorpe. I was drifting, Mum talked about sending me ‘back home’ to school, as if Jamaica was my home. Then Miss Thorpe made me her project. She told me what to read and to do, there was a mentoring scheme. And I got lucky at the interview.”

“And you hated it?”

“Yes, no. A bit. Made some friends, did some fun stuff. But the posh white boys were wearing. Three years were enough, it wasn’t really me.”

The psychologist in Ella that never quite shut down, even with a friend, made a mental note: Sally is ambivalent about her own brilliance.


There were voices that automatically got Sally’s hackles up: smooth, confident voices, that told you their owner was in charge, and you weren't. She wished Ella’s voice wasn’t like that.

“My accent distracted my clients,” Ella replied. Smoothly, of course. “I’m there to be a mirror for them as much as anything, if they’re too conscious of me as a person, it can be unhelpful.”

“What’s wrong with a West Indian accent?”

“Nothing. I didn’t have one. I had a Brummie accent, pure Berming-gum. People used to ask me if I was related to Lenny Henry. If I wanted to get somewhere, I had to change it. Now it seems faked if I talk in my old voice.”

Ella’s smoothness was hard won, of course, that was the difference between her and the posh boys. The accent, the clothes, the education that marked her out as a professional appeared natural now. You’d never guess that she’d had to fight to get herself qualified, not drop out of college, make a success of her life. Unless you knew that Ella was 37 and had a grown-up son.

There were some lines now on Ella's smooth, almost polished skin, but she still looked gorgeous. Sally found herself wondering, more and more, if Ella would still be quite so smooth, so polished, in bed.
marysutherland: (Default)

Sherlock BBC

Rating: PG (femslash, pre-slash)

Spoilers: none

Psychologists cottoned on that the best way of dealing with trauma was talking with your mates long after old-fashioned cops like Sally. About when the Met, at the trailing edge of thought, introduced mandatory debriefing with a therapist after 'extreme incidents'.

After the first time, Sally retaliated in the only effective way: with a complaint about 'gender and cultural insensitivity'. But following this last case, she had received another appointment, with someone called Ella Thompson. Why was that name familiar? Not one of the Met's normal bunch of head-shrinkers, but supposedly 'experienced in dealing with the uniformed services'. Then something clicked.


"Weren't you John Watson's therapist?" Sally asked, as she sat down.

"I can't discuss other patients," Ella replied blandly, "And how did you know, anyhow?"

"You left messages on his blog. So did I. Do you remember our discussion about men and map-reading?"

Ella went very quiet.

"If I don't tell anyone," Sally said, "can we not talk about the Gresham case?"

"We have ninety minutes, we have to fill it somehow."

"We could talk about ourselves."


"Can't work late," Sally told Lestrade a few months afterwards, "going to a gig with Ella."

"Your therapist?"


"Wouldn't have thought you'd have much in common. Well, except John did say-"

"Yes, perhaps it is because we is both black."


marysutherland: (Default)

February 2017

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