Do not hate the kids who read Wuthering Heights because of Twilight.
Do not hate the kids who support LGBTQ rights because of Glee.
Do not hate the kids who call themselves feminists because of Beyonce.
Do not hate the kids who read LotR because of GoT.
Do not hate the kids who question beauty standards because of All About that Bass.
Support them. Encourage them. Protect them at all costs.
I don’t care how you learned it. You are learning good things.
It doesn’t matter where it starts as long as it starts.
I need a Notting Hill/Sherlock AU where Molly is a famous actress that needs Sherlock’s detective skills for whatever reason, only he doesn’t even know who she is or why John is in awe when she comes knocking at 221b.
They fall in love etc etc and Sherlock now sulks a bit that his girlfriend is way more famous than him and he gets referred to as ‘Molly Hooper’s Boyfriend’ in the papers all the time.
"There’s – there’s a woman in the bathroom."
The consulting detective glanced over the top of his newspaper, cocking an eyebrow. “Yes. Her name’s Molly – something. Don’t know why you’re so surprised – you’ve met women before, John. You’re married to one.”
"Her – Sherlock – her gender isn’t the problem,” John hissed, drawing his phone from his pocket. “It’s more who she is.”
Sherlock shrugged. “She’s a woman – I bumped into her on the street – she spilt coffee over herself – I invited her back to the flat to make use of the bathroom. I see no problem.”
"You invited her back?" John swallowed thickly. "I can’t believe – I just – I almost—"
"You just what?"
John shook his head. “Nothing.”
"Good." Sherlock casually flipped over a page of his newspaper. "Then there’s nothing for you to worry about."
"Mm – but there might be something for you to worry about.” John stepped forward, shoving the phone directly in front of his friend’s face. Her features, lit up in a winning smile, were the first thing noticeable. The second was the golden statue she clutched in her hands. Sherlock lifted his gaze towards John, who only nodded and pointed back to the bathroom.
"Right now, in your bathroom, is Molly Hooper – she recently won an Academy Award."
"Oh." Sherlock stared at the photograph, the words Hollywood’s English Rose splashed underneath it. The lighting of the photo made her appear particularly luminous. He sniffed, looking back to his newspaper. “She still can’t use my shampoo.”