I’m just gonna say that if anyone happened to be in Cardiff in the next 2 weeks that they should totally come to Balance Design Exhibition at RWCMD because there are so many designers that have done work placements with the BBC (including Sherlock S3 and Doctor Who 50th Anniversary) and I want someone to fangirl with because HOLY BEJEEZUS I WANT LIKE A BURNING ALSO THEY ARE REALLY FRIKKIN GOOD I MEAN SOME OF THE STUFF THEY HAVE MADE BLOWS MY MIND
OK so I feel creative, send me a pairing and a prompt and I’ll write you a drabble (that’s an exactly 100 word drabble) about them. I don’t even care if I ship them, just roll with it :D
Roses are red, Sherlock’s blood too, there’s pain in John’s voice, “He’s my friend let me through”
Roses are red
Bruises are blue
You say one more word
I’ll strangle youRoses are red
Thistles are prickly
I just have to say
that escalated quickly
‘I want my Sherlock back’
Happy Valentines day everyone~! c:
“Do I smell murder?” Oh my god. twist ending
we literally have one picture and one tweet from Sherlock and already my dash is flooded with Sherlock
it has begun
Every time I think about the fact that there’s going to be Sherlock Filming things to blog about soon I flip my shit a little
Ok so from what I remember about this fic it was kinda Johnlock but also John/Other (I thought it was Mary but I could be wrong as all the John/Mary fics I’ve found aren’t the one)
John and Sherlock and the woman are in a relationship but Sherlock just likes to watch or be a very passive participant in the sexual relationship.
I remember one scene where John and the woman make Sherlock have an orgasm as a kind of test/experiment thing but he says after that he doesn’t like it so they go back to the way they were.
Basically it was rather excellent and now I can’t find it. I’m fairly sure it was on AO3 but I could be wrong. Anyone know of it?
OMG LITERALLY 5 MINUTES AFTER POSTING THIS I FOUND IT! If anyone’s interested it’s Indecorus by Basingstoke on AO3 and I highly recommend it
… and so sherlock and john never met. the end.
THE SHOW WOULD CONSIST OF JOHN LIMPING AROUND LONDON AT VARIOUS SPEEDS
“Who’d want me for a flatmate?” John asked, completely serious at the notion that anyone would actually want to room with him. He glanced at his old colleague when he heard him chuckling. “What?”
“Nothing, I just remembered a funny joke.” He said with a smile. It probably had something to do with two flatmates or something. John didn’t inquire.
“Oh.” He responded simply, returning his gaze to his cup of coffee. After a few minutes of silence, John looked up to ask Stamford a question but stopped when he saw a curious look on the man’s face. He almost seemed horrified. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Stamford stuttered. “It’s just…” He seemed to be trying to get a look at John’s back. “I just thought I saw something on your back.”
The NTAs are really stressful because I just have so many fandoms invested in this
It’s a glimpse, nothing more. A flash of dark hair and high cheekbones and pale eyes. And John knows it’s insane, knows it’s impossible, but it looked exactly like him.
Their eyes meet for a second, and the pair on the other side of the tinted taxi window show no signs of recognition. But not for a moment does John let himself believe it could be anyone else. He simple didn’t see him in the crowd, or did not have time to react between recognising him and the car drifting smoothly around the corner.
He must believe these things, because he must believe in who it was in that cab.
There was no-one else like him. No-one else it could have been.
It was Sherlock.
It is all John can do not to drop his bags as he races around the corner, breathing that name repeatedly under his breath. For the first time since Switzerland, he runs with no limp, he runs like he only ever did with Sherlock.
But even free from psychosomatic pain, he is not as fast as a car. He knows he will never catch it. “Sherlock… Sherlock…” he pants, even as he grinds to a halt in the middle of the road. He feels the name bubbling up inside him, becoming a shout as the car disappears.
“SHERLOCK!”
For several seconds, John just stands there, watching the point where the taxi disappeared. He is aware of people around looking at him, a car slowly pulling towards him, expecting him to move. He doesn’t care. It has just hit him, really, truly, that Sherlock Holmes is dead. He will never ride a London cab again, never look over the city with those cool, colourless eyes. No matter how hard John wishes, he will never come back.
The car behind him beeps its horn, and John limps away.
~
Sherlock turns and watches the figure, once he is sure it can no longer see his face. It runs after him, mouth forming his name over and over. As he watches, a burning desire grows, and he wants nothing more than to stop the taxi, jump out and gather the man in his arms. He never meant to hurt anyone. He never meant for this.
“You know that guy?” the cabbie asks, noticing what Sherlock is staring at. “You want me to stop for him?”
Sherlock turns around, catching the driver’s eye in the mirror. “No, it’s fine. Keep driving.”
He has whipped out his phone before he even knows what he’s doing.
Take care of him.
- SH
He has already sent the message before he taps out an afterthought.
Please.
- SH
Seconds later, his phone chimes.
Already picked him up. Have been following him since he left Baker Street.
- MH
And before he can even draw the breath to think of a reply, it seems that his brother also has more to say.
He’s crying. I don’t know what to do.
- MH
There is anger that message. And desperation. And remorse. And most of all—there is guilt. The words blur in his vision, and with trembling fingers, he wipes the tears that have dropped on the screen of his phone.
Neither do I.
- SH
He never sends that last message.
oh god fandom you fucking kill me.
Nope nope nope nope nope