"Awkward. There is only one way to settle this – a comprehensive Sherlock-off. Let's put Cumberbatch and Miller in a room and make them guess someone's email password by intuition alone. And then let's make them wear a nice scarf until Tumblr drowns in a puddle of soggy-knickered GIFs and wonky fan-art. After all, those are apparently the only talents that a modern-day Sherlock actually needs. Nobody tell Robert Downey Jr."

The Guardian on “Elementary” vs “Sherlock" 

kayjag asked: “blindfold” (prompt list found here)

He was tired, his editor was being a pain in the ass, and all he wanted to do was collapse on the sofa with a pint of Guinness, and maybe, just maybe, he could convince Sybil to rub his shoulders and run her fingers through his scalp (that always felt good).

He opened the door to their flat, dropping his things right there by the door and kicking his shoes off.  “Syb?” he called out, but didn’t hear anything.  Had he beaten her home?  She usually got home before him on Fridays–

“In here…” he heard her call, her voice sounding even huskier.  With a furrowed brow he followed it into the bedroom…and stared, wide-eyed at the sight before him.

There she lay, his wife and goddess, in a black bra and panty set she had teased him about a week ago while looking through a lingerie catalog, sheer black stockings, and covering her eyes…a black silk blindfold.

He pinched his hand.  No, he wasn’t dreaming. 


He realized then that she wasn’t aware he had entered the room.  And judging from the way she licked her lips, arched her back, ran her fingers along the duvet and dug her heels into the mattress, she was on high alert, her body even more sensitive to the lack of sight.

His hand went to his tie and immediately tugged it off, as well as quickly shrugging himself out of his jacket and the rest of his clothes.  This Friday was suddenly looking better and better…

“Darling?” she gasped, hearing the sound of his belt hitting the floor.  Before she could utter another word, his lips covered hers in a deep, passionate kiss that left them both breathless.

“…And it’s not even my birthday,” he growled against her throat as his lips began to leave a molten trail across her skin.

“Mmmmmmm…” Sybil purred, before giggling as she felt his fingers slide and tickle her sensitive skin.  “But it is mine.”

He paused in his descent, confused by her words.  “Your birthday was last week, love.”

She grinned.  “I know…that black bra and panty set I should you was my gift to myself…as is this,” she brought her hand up to the blindfold, though she did not remove it.  “But you know me…I always love sharing my presents with you.”

He smiled at that, and then groaned as her pleasured gasp filled his ears as his mouth went back to work at kissing down her body.  God, how he loved this woman.  Suddenly he didn’t feel so tired anymore…

anonymous asked:

Dear Queen B, Permission to have a day of Bårdlust tomorrow please? I feel I am overdue a burst of caramel. Also, I think your NSFW damage is done. Your blog is filched forever. Even if you covered it in rainbows and glittery unicorns now you'd be deemed too rude for o2.

Uhm…………………………. Bård lust you say?


I premiss MYSELF for ALL the bård lust!!!!!!!!!


I was sure I was doing such a good job on not showing any signs of any filth on the blog!! D:



in other news i tried to take a photo of my dad to see how much alike we looked but he was sleeping in the armchair and I woke him up and he made this face

…and he doesn’t so much look like me as he does a character from a Dickens novel so you’ll just have to take my word for it