no regrets just nose

Rudolph’s Nose

Just something to cheer people up. Not beta read, so all mistakes are mine. Probably completely NSFW and tooth rottingly sweet: let’s see how that combination works, eh? Happy (belated) holidays, everyone!


It’s like wearing a bloody Christmas tree.

Sherlock stares forlornly down into his lap, taking in the sight of his very obvious, very embarrassing, very long-lasting erection, and for the first time in his life he genuinely prays for the sweet solace of the grave.

(Either that or the tools to sue Pfizer industries and the creators of Viagra into the Stone Age. Repeatedly.)

Because it’s not enough that he’s been hard for so long that it’s getting painful. It’s not enough that he’s had to cancel any and all cases he might have taken tonight, since he can’t bear to be spotted out and about sporting The Erection That Never Ends. It’s not even enough that he has succeeded in creating his own version of a patented erectile dysfunction drug with little more to go on than his chemistry degree and a certain nonchalance where human testing was concerned-

No, the worst thing about it is that, despite his protestations of illness and wanting to be left alone, he can hear Molly bloody Hooper traipsing up the  stairs to his flat, Mrs. bloody Hudson following behind her and chattering away like an over-caffeinated squirrel.

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As I lay in bed at night, one thought keeps me awake. “Why didn’t The Beatles go through with voicing the vultures in The Jungle Book?”

Note to self: when you wake up on a Sunday morning and think, “I don’t feel like going to the woods today; I’d really rather stay in bed,” you are wrong. You are wrong. You are wrong.