one time during these months john wasn’t talking to mary and moved back at baker street john comes back home drunk after “a pint” with stamford, he falls down in his chair and just giggles, until finally calls for sherlock who’s standing with his violin in his hand, forgotten, staring out of the window. “come here,” john says, but sherlock can’t move. “mike… told me,” john continues, not a hint of disapproval in his voice but sherlock freezes because could stamford really give him away? finally he folds to his knees in front of john’s chair, trying to take off his soaking wet coat, but john’s hand suddenly raises and his index finger traces sherlock’s cheek, then his thumb caresses sherlock’s lips and sherlock freezes, unable to look at him and unable to move away. “sherlock, are you—” john starts but doesn’t finish and his lips meet sherlock’s ever so slightly, and sherlock gives up and parts his lips, until the realisation hits him and he moves away quickly. “john, you’re… drunk,” he says, because it seemed impossible to say “married” out loud.

i love jewish girls who “look jewish”, girls with big brown eyes and large noses and curly curly brown hair, i love jewish girls who look like gentiles who have straight hair and light eyes and tiny features, i love jewish girls. defend jewish girls from having to live up to standards of “looking jewish”, without being “too jewish” and therefore unattractive 

anonymous asked:

"Sherlock... What exactly were you doing in those two years away?"

Dismantling Moriarty’s web. Running away. Chasing the criminals. Thinking about you. Trying to focus on the work I knew I had to do because it was all for you. Dreaming about you. Hoping that when I come back, we’d make it right between us, because there’d be no one to keep us apart. Missing you. Accepting the fact that I may be just in love with you. Rehearsing the words I’d say to you when I come back hundreds of times. Imagining you were there beside me.

“I told you. Working.”