I suppose [the success of Sherlock] is because I’m in some of it now. What? ‘Oh, that’s arrogant’ - it’s not arrogant, it’s truth. I’m in some of it, so they have naturally gravitated towards it. I have no idea why, I have no idea.
—  Martin Freeman, The Abominable Bride Behind-the-scenes (x)

Mycroft is trying to convince them that his brother still has utility–“There will always come a time when we need Sherlock Holmes”–and then sends him off on a supposed suicide mission. He just said that they need Sherlock; why would he suggest not even 30 seconds later to send him to his death? Answer: Sherlock isn’t actually being sent to his death because Mycroft absolutely has a plan to rescue him from that fate.


Mycroft Holmes. “The jaguar is largely a solitary, opportunistic, stalk-and-ambush predator at the top of the food chain. It is a keystone species, playing an important role in stabilizing ecosystems and regulating the populations of the animals it hunts.” (x)


Mixed Signals: Approximately one month after the great Moriarty Return, Sherlock contacts Molly over the chat, but their fragile civility is too large an elephant for him to ignore. But where some truths are revealed, others are kept hidden.

(Note: this chat takes place roughly 7 - 8 months after the last chat, and this story is working with the theory that the Moriarty return is actually fake.)

John (like the little trash bin that he is) would have an extensive knowledge of very bad, very cheesy pickup lines and he wouldn’t hesitate to use them on Sherlock, once they’re dating. 

It starts out ironically enough, they’re both making fun of past experiences (Sherlock might not have dated per se, but he has been hit upon several times, let’s be honest) and then John says:

“You’ve got something on your face.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes.

“Me,” and then John kisses him lightly. 

He starts kissing his way along Sherlock’s jawline, “Do you have a map? I just keep getting lost in your eyes.”

“John, that is physically impossible, and besides you can’t even see my eyes right now.”

“I seem to have lost my phone number, can I have yours?” He’s nuzzling just behind Sherlock’s ear now.

“You have texted me countless times over the years,” Sherlock’s breath hitches when John’s teeth scrape against his sensitive skin. “Do you expect me to believe you never once stopped to save my number?”

“Okay, let me be more blunt,” John leans back to stare Sherlock squarely in the face as his fingers play with the collar of Sherlock’s shirt. “There’s a party in my pants and you’re invited.”

Sherlock’s blush spreads from the tip of his ears to the root of his hair.