my headcanons

Sherlock doesn’t sing in the shower, he hums. 

Classical tunes most of the time, or one of his own compositions. John heard him once when Sherlock thought he was out - Sarah called and told him to stay home because it was too quiet - and he stayed in the kitchen just to listen that deep baritone soothe him the same way the violin managed to do.

Sherlock shocked face when he came out of the shower and saw his flatmate, was one John would treasure for weeks to come. 

okay but what about halfblood kids who still go to primary school before going to hogwarts, can you imagine parent teacher conferences?

little elizabeth has such an active imagination, mr x.

parent freezes and gulps: oh really?

yes, she invents the wildest tales, you wouldn’t believe.

oh, i’d believe it.

yes. my favourite involved broomsticks and this game she calls quitwich. loads of children live in a fantasy world…hers is quite developed. you should see her art journal. magical garden gnomes, cauldrons, dragons, pixies. wild stuff. keep encouraging that creativity at home, okay? it’s the best thing for her development.

will do.

neville has always been brave. neville stood up to arguably the most famous person he knew and risked facing even more social humiliation by telling on harry and his friends. neville dared to fight both hermione and harry because he caught them sneaking out after hours and didn’t want gryffindors to be punished for it. neville takes on both crabbe and goyle in a fight; standing up for himself, ron, and his house. neville sneaks out to warn harry and hermione about draco’s plot to catch them freeing norbert. neville is the first to stand up to his greatest fear, in boggart form, and is successful in doing so. neville defends harry against seamus, when the entire wizarding community was convinced he was a fake. neville is the first to sign up for the D.A. and makes the greatest improvement his magic. neville not only saw his parents’ torture, but relives it by regularly visiting them in st. mungos. neville is one of the first to volunteer to go with harry to find sirius. neville, nose broken and heavily bleeding, carries hermione himself instead of leaving her behind. neville leads the rebellion efforts, reinstating D.A. in an environment that would mean certain torture if he was found out. neville defies voldemort, and pulls out godric gryffindor’s sword. neville kills the last horcrux right in front of voldemort. neville longbottom, butt of all the jokes, was mocked, disregarded, and considered an annoyance by most (if not all) of hogwarts. neville longbottom, who suffered in school and was humiliated by not only his teachers, but his peers, came back to hogwarts year after year after year. neville longbottom never quit potions, despite his greatest fear being his own potions teacher. neville longbottom never stopped doing what he thought was right, even when facing death. 

neville longbottom has always been brave.

Sherlock refusing to look at John after their first time and lying as close to the edge of the bed as he can because he’s embarrassed and thinks John probably wants him to leave now until John pulls him against his chest and kisses his curls, telling him “you’re amazing” while clasping their hands together over Sherlock’s chest and making him feel instantly safe

Sherlock falls asleep before he does. His soft snores fill the holding cell and John looks up, suddenly unable to look away.

He looks so much younger like this. So much more like the Sherlock he knew before he took a swan dive off the roof of st. Bart’s. John swallows down the bile that rises in his throat, telling himself that it has nothing to do with the sudden memory of Sherlock’s blood-soaked curls and everything to do with the scotch they had in Baker Street.

Sherlock had been… softer when they returned back home. No, not home, John corrects himself silently as his gaze falls to Sherlock’s fluttering lashes. Not anymore. Even in the pubs - after John started spiking their drinks - Sherlock had kept up appearances. Even started a fight, the bloody git. But once the door to 221 Baker Street had closed behind them, something had changed. He had smiled, his true smile, reserved only for him, John knew. Or hoped. Or… whatever. Perhaps he should have skipped that last scotch.

The detective shifts in his sleep and his arm slides off his chest. His long fingers nearly brush the floor and John reaches out to grab the hand before he can think about too much. For a moment, he lets his own fingers trace Sherlock’s and he feels something, something old and familiar and a bit not good, stir in the vicinity of his heart.

Sherlock mutters something sounding an awful lot like his name but John knows he is still fast asleep. He should let go, he thinks. He should not… not now. They had their chance, perhaps, once, years ago and it didn’t… He should really let go.

But John falls asleep, still cradling Sherlock’s hand in his own.

everyone lives au where every time thorin is trying to be ~romantic and ~tender he calls bilbo “master burglar” on account of how he ~stole thorin’s heart~ and another dwarf is always around to hear it and exaggeratedly gags in the background

There is only one time in his life where Sherlock gets Greg’s name right. 

John’s blood is seeping through his fingers as he presses down on the gunshot wound and it isn’t right, none of it is. John shouldn’t be bleeding. He shouldn’t be so pale, struggling to stay conscious. He shouldn’t have to tell Sherlock to press harder through clenched teeth.

Sherlock has his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder, listening to that damnable tone before finally – finally – a gruff voice greets him from the other end.


But John suddenly goes slack underneath him as he loses his consciousness and Sherlock can hear himself screaming John’s name, commanding him to wake up this instant, before he start begging him not to leave him like this. The voice on the other end is on high alert now, demanding Sherlock’s attention.

‘Greg…please hurry. John is…’

‘Sherlock, listen to me kid, we’re on our way, we’re tracking your phone now, keep talking.’

Sherlock keeps pressing down on the wound, refusing to let any more blood escape, but his fingers are trembling and it just slips out between them! ‘Greg, I didn’t…I haven’t told him…please hurry up. I can’t lose him, please Greg…’

‘Listen to me Sherlock, I will drag him back myself so you can tell him. We’re almost there, make sure he keeps breathing and you as well kid. Deep breaths!’

Oh. He’s crying. Sherlock can feel the tears run down his face and his breaths are leaving him in ragged gasps. Panic attack. Can’t. Not now. Not with John’s life in the balance. He can hear the sirens coming closer and Sherlock focuses on the steady rise and fall of John’s chest. He doesn’t know if it’s been an hour or a minute before other hands wrapped in gloves take over. Sherlock watches in a daze as John is lifted onto a gurney and pushed into the ambulance. He sags when he sees Greg appearing in his vision, suddenly exhausted and overwhelmed by the sight of blood on his own hands.

‘Steady, kid, deep breaths. Come on, you need to stay awake. In through the nose, out through the mouth. That’s it Sherlock…’

Sherlock is clinging to Greg’s arms as he tries to do as he is instructed and when his heart settles in his chest, Greg helps him to his car so they can follow the ambulance.

Later, when John is out of surgery and his doctors expect him to wake up soon, both Sherlock and Greg are waiting patiently for the still man to wake up. Sherlock can’t tear his eyes away from John’s face but he can feel the DI’s presence behind him.

He takes a deep breath before he speaks. ‘Thank you, Greg.’

For a moment Lestrade stays silent, processing the clearly deliberate use of his name, but then Sherlock feels a firm hand on his shoulder.

‘Anytime, kid…’

mrs potter insisting that they celebrate sirius’s birthday over the christmas hols

mrs potter going out to diagon alley over christmas to ensure sirius has robes that fit because he’s grown four inches since september

mrs potter buying sirius a watch for his 17th birthday

mrs potter pretending like she’s not worried to death when he brings home a motorcycle

mrs potter checking in on sirius’s new flat and delivering an ice box full of home cooked casseroles

mrs potter flooing in every saturday to confirm he’s coming over to sunday dinner, even though he comes to every sunday dinner

I will never not sob about william holmes though

little william holmes who started insisting everybody call him sherlock because his big brother was so clever and so special and he wanted to be more like him but myc had such a fancy name and little william’s fancy name was only his middle not his proper one so “no mummy I’m Sherlock, no daddy it’s Sherlock” but mycroft never had to be told twice, mycroft took it on as soon as he asked

little william holmes who started school and corrected the teacher whenever she called out “william” on the register in the mornings

little william holmes who was a class favourite when he was small, who started out with classmates who loved to crowd around him whenever he found a little mouse skull in the playground and began to parade it around like a trophy he’d won, who used to swarm about him with their pointer fingers curled into hooks whenever he screamed that the mighty blackbeard was on his way and everyone had better start climbing the rigging and scrubbing the decks or he’d have them walk the plank, who’d grin and boast when he let them call him sherlock (he wore it like a badge of honour back then, only grown ups and the worthy could use his real, fancy name, you had to earn it). 

little william holmes who grew out of his popularity as some children do, with classmates who didn’t find it fun anymore when pointing at dead rodents turned into cutting them up with sticks and laying their insides out neatly beside the body, who didn’t want to play with him when he snapped at them for being scared of the wrong pirate or for calling the ship by the wrong name or for mixing up their starboard with their portside, who grew tired of their name privileges being revoked and reissued every other day and stopped calling him sherlock altogether.

little william holmes who stopped answering to william at home. little william holmes who wouldn’t ever come down for supper until mycroft knocked on his door and told him dryly, without opening it, “Sherlock. Dinnertime.” little william holmes whose parents loved him very much and who did what they could.

little sherlock holmes, who passed his 11+ with flying colours and was admitted to grammar school without any fuss. who didn’t need to correct his teacher anymore when his name was read aloud. he answered “here” succinctly when Sherlock was called on the register, he kept his animal carcasses to an allotted patch in the back garden and he stopped playing pirates for good (except for when Redbeard absolutely insisted, and then only if nobody was around to see).

Okay but Sirius’ hair...
  • Sirius starting to grow his hair out because he knows his mum will hate it
  • Sirius asking Lily for tips on hair care and having a serious conversation over conditioners with her in the common room at 3am
  • Sirius asking Lily to braid his hair so often that James get’s angry and yells at him for “STEALING MY FUTURE WIFE AWAY FROM ME”
  • Remus rolling his eyes at Sirius “obsession“
  • Sirius making a scene because he has been attacked with Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum by a bunch of Slytherins and now “It’s all in my HAIR, Moony! HOW DO I GET IT OUT? DON’T TELL ME WE HAVE TO CUT IT?!!!” followed by a pretended faint.
  • Remus finally having enough because “I can’t take this any longer, Prongs! We have to make him shut up or I’ll be going to Azkaban for murder…” and sitting down with Sirius, a comb and his wand in his hands.
  • Remus spending 3 hours on mission ‘save the queen’until Sirius is happy again and accidently throws him off the bed because of an enthusiastic hug attempt
  • Remus being rewarded at honeydukes with “As much chocolate as you can carry, my dear moony for you are my saviour, my hero, my…” “Shut up already…”
  • Remus remembering how much it had calmed him down to brush Sirius hair on that dreadful day and making it a habit to do so before every full moon
  • Sirius allowing only Remus to touch his hair and finally putting a charm on it that gives everyone else a small electric shock because “Those damn girls won’t stop touching it, Moony! THEY WON’T STOP TOUCHING IT! I need to protect myself from their filthy hands!”
  • Remus never saying that he loves Sirius’ hair but he just knows because “He keeps running his fingers through it every time we kiss, Prongs. It’s adorable…” “YOU KISSED MOONY?!”

Grantaire being an absolutely insufferable person to get out of bed not only on the bad days but on the good ones too, and driving boyfriend-turned-room mate Enjolras up the wall with all his grumbling and groaning and blanket hogging and for godsakes it takes him half an hour to stick his head out of the blankets let alone sit up. 

Of course, he gives him the time when things are bad, lets him lay there and come to himself but it’s always better, and R does better when he actually gets out of bed and tries to semi function, get up, shower, eat breakfast, small victories are still victories. Enj gets that, encourages it, even if that’s all he manages. Still, the point I’m getting at is; 

Luring Grantaire out of bed with kisses. 

On the good days and the bad days, wake him up with a kiss, shuffle a little out of the way until Grantaire moves to follow for more, repeat, kiss and move back until he follows, kiss and sit up until he follows, continue shuffling backwards until surprise he’s made it down the hall and into the kitchen.

Grantaire making all sorts of sleepy frustrated noises as Enjolras keeps moving just out of reach is great too.