I love how John’s expression throughout all of season 1 is like “interesting point, but did you need to explain it to me with our faces two inches apart?” but he like ,still doesn’t move his head back…sooo…
I had a dream last night that John hid little notes all throughout 221B in places where Sherlock frequented like maybe in a cabinet or in the fridge or even in places he used to hide cigarettes and they were just little notes that said things like “I love you” or “I love your smile” or “You look nice everyday” and all of them had a little smiley face drawn on it and a heart. that ol’ romantic john watson
Question: what nicknames do you call your boyfriends/girlfriends/partners? I tend to call Sherlock ‘love’ and he makes the word John sound like a term of endearment. But I called him 'sweetheart’ today and we both decided it wasn’t right for us, but couldn’t place why. Why is there a line you can cross with pet names?
“Look how brilliant you are. Your mind has created the perfect metaphor. You’re high above us, all alone in the sky, and you understand everything except how to land. Now, I’m just an idiot. But I’m on the ground. I can bring you home.”
The Simulation in Extremis reminds me of the Supercomputer (Earth) in THHGTTG, proposed by Deep Thought. DT came up with the answer 42, but that wasn’t helping, because the people who built it didn’t know what the question was. So, they built a computational Matrix incorporating living beings, that will come up with the question.
In the end, after Earth gets destroyed before the task is completed, Arthur Dent comes up with the question: what do you get if you time 6 by 9?
Like in Eurus’s Song: six by sixteen … Nine by nineteen.
Will someone totally unassuming be shown as being behind the simulation in Doctor Who, like the mice? Will Earth again be destroyed? Or will it be saved by the Doctor doing something totally improbable?
Because silence will fall when the question is asked. One of Moffat’s catch phrases. But what is the question? Do we really know it?
River featured in this episode by her book (the Guide is a book as well). And those things in the red robes reminded me of a Zombie Version of the Silence.
Summary: Reader has a crush and asks Sherlock for advice.
Y/N was head over heels in love with Sherlock Holmes; that much was plain to see.
Well, I mean, for most people.
John knew it. So did Lestrade. Oh, and Molly, and Mrs. Hudson, and even Mycroft were all fully aware of the massive crush Y/N had had on him for a long time. Really, the only person unaware was none other than Sherlock himself.
In his defense, he tended to avoid Y/N. Actually, no, he loved being around Y/N, taking every excusable chance to be with her, just not looking at her. At least not when she was looking. She was pretty, what could he say? It wasn’t his fault for that.
It was one of those afternoons–Y/N had come over for her reserved time at 221B, sipping cautiously on the hot tea Mrs. Hudson had prepared for them. John was out on some sort of date that particular day, and that let Sherlock all to himself as he avoided Y/N’s eyes.
Perhaps if he had looked, he would have seen how they were dilated when she looked at him.
“Sherlock,” Y/N said, breaking their heavy silence.
His head shot up, eyes resting on the wall behind her. “Yes?”
“I have this problem,” she said slowly. An idea had formed in her mind; one that was risky and probably stupid, but one that she was willing to try nonetheless.
“What sort of problem?” Sherlock asked.
Y/N hesitated for only a moment. “A boy problem.”
He felt something in his stomach shift uncomfortably. His eyes focused in the saucer in his hands. “You know I’m not one for romance, Y/N.”
“I know,” she replied. “But could we try something?”
“Something like what?”
“Something like this: I describe the man I’m having trouble with, and you tell me whether or not I stand a chance.”
You stand a chance with anyone, Sherlock thought to himself. He quickly shook it off, deciding to not let any sort of sentiment take over. “I suppose,” he finally said.
“Well,” she started. “He’s tall. Dark hair, brilliant blue eyes. Sort of skinny, I guess, but–”
“Sounds like a character sketch,” Sherlock complained. “Are you filing a police report or describing a man you’re… fond of?"
The last words had gotten stuck in his throat for whatever reason, but he chose not to dwell on that. Or the fact that the man Y/N was describing seemed ideal for a woman.
"Okay, fine,” Y/N mumbled with a small chuckle. It was almost like she knew something he didn’t… “He’s not particularly kind–”
“Then why do you like him?” He questioned quickly.
“Because I can see past that,” she insisted. “He’s brilliant. Absolutely brilliant, but also a complete idiot.”
“Idiot?” Sherlock frowned. “If you hadn’t described him physically, I might be worried you were talking about Anderson."
For whatever reason, the comment made her laugh harder than it should have.
"God, no. It’s not Anderson,” she assured him through her laughter.
“Then who the hell is it?” Sherlock cried. “You’ve described someone who seems like the man of your dreams, so why don’t you just go and ask him on a date?!”
Something in Y/N snapped, just a bit. “He’s not really one to date, Sherlock! I think you should know that!”
He stood. “How? How would I know that? This man is a stranger to me!”
“No he–God!” Y/N stood in front of him, inches from his face. He tried not to recoil back from the frustration in her expression.
“It’s you, you bloody idiot! I was talking about you! You’re the man I’m in love with!” she yelled.
Sherlock stood there, stuck in a state of shock. Y/N didn’t know what to do, so anxiously, she sat back down.
“Well, now you know,” she muttered.
“You… It was me, I’m the man you’re in love with?” Sherlock said slowly.
“That’s what I just said, wasn’t it?” Y/N retorted, trying not to cry as tears burned behind her eyes.
Sherlock swallowed. “You asked me if you had a chance with the man, and the answer is yes.”
Her head shot up. “Y-yes?"
Kneeling down to meet her eyes, he nodded. "Y/N, I have been feeling… Feelings toward you for quite some time. I was sure you could never feel the same.”
Y/N’s arms wrapped suddenly around his torso in a tight hug. “I thought the same thing,” she admitted.
She felt Sherlock chuckle, slowly wrapping his arms around her. “I’m glad we were wrong."
Another stupid Sherlock fic idea I’d love to see used as a prompt:
Sherlock somehow discovers the wealth of fan art (i.e. porn) on Tumblr about him and John. He’s never been in a physical relationship before, but he’s starting to realize he’d quite like to try sex with John. Luckily, Tumblr seems to have no end of illustrated guides for wooing John (or so he believes).
John, of course, is totally broadsided when Sherlock basically greets him one day with “I bought you milk, jam, and new red pants, and made you tea. I believe that’s the appropriate courting ritual. Can we have sex now? I know what you like because I’ve done my research on the internet.”
Would anyone be interested in participating in a Sherlolly fic exchange? I’m thinking of organizing one and having sign ups open sometime in mid-June (giving everyone a few weeks to recover from Sherlolly Appreciation Week). I’ll probably run it from AO3 (so the participants would have to have an account there) with a collection there, but I can create a secondary blog here on Tumblr for people to ask questions and to post reminders about and whatnot.
Thought I’d just gage the interest before I started putting anything together. Answer the post or reblog with your thoughts on the matter.