really benedict

msbenedict  asked:

One of my absolute favourite performances by BC is Third Star. I laughed, I cried (a lot) - his performance was just incredible. Highly recommend it if anyone hasn't seen it! (Just be sure to have a box of tissues on hand)

i watched that alone and when i was done i had to comfort myself and remind myself that its just a movie and benedict isnt really dead because WOW his performance was so REAL and MOVING i have no words really, third star is and forever will be my underdog fave

Originally posted by doctorstrangebatch

Benedict’s eyes

oh my god i can’t take it anymore i’m in love with ben’s eyes

and not JUST his iris, there’s already loads of appreciation post on his wonderful otherworldly cosmic-coloured irises, this time i wanna talk about the rest of his eye features

i love his eyelid!!! I do i love it so much especially when his eyes are half-open at rest and relaxed because then they make such a distinct and clean line above his eyes


and then there’s the cute lil slanted pea-shape i mean look!!! it’s so anime-y, as someone who draws lots of ben/sherlock fanart, let me just tell you that drawing the shape of his eye is one of the most satisfying things in the world

Originally posted by bethereinagiphy

and then there’s his eyelashes! it’s not particularly thick or particularly long, but it’s just the perfect amount of length and sparseness and curl to perfectly decorate his eye and make his iris seem to sparkle more

and also just how expressive all those features combined can be, his eyes are SO expressive!! just look at how soft and radiant it is when he smiles

look at how sad and sombre it is when he cries

how vulnerable it looks when he’s weak

how scary it can look when he’s angry


please talk to me about ben’s eyes, every time i see his eyes i amd more and more in love with him and i’m not even the type to romanticize things, i’m the opposite of that but his eyes!! like i’m genuinely in awe with his eyes because of its pure mathematical beauty, the curvature of its shape, the flick of its eyelash, the distinctiveness of the eyelid, the depth of its expressiveness!



“It was a joy from beginning to end. He’s very easy to get along with and the audition sort of said it all. He came in the room and by the time he left I said, ‘He made me raise my game. I want to work with him.’” - Benedict Cumberbatch talks Martin Freeman (x)

countdown to series four // day 19 - favourite cast interview

BBC’s Sherlock Holmes Aesthetic ; requested by @quantumqueer

“I’m not a psychopath, Anderson. I’m a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research.”


I wonder why Faith’s cane reminded Sherlock of John from that particular scene. In A Study in Pink, Sherlock had taken off earlier and left John alone there, so he couldn’t see how John had walked down the road leaning on his cane at that time. 


Molly was standing in the kitchen, bouncing little Rosie in her arms, talking sweetly to her and trying to focus on just her and not the mess that had unfolded in the last few days. There was no normal. The entire situation felt unreal in every way.

She knew Mary would always be in danger, and that she would always have the shadow of her past following her around. But she never thought that shadow would catch up.

And now, John Watson was a broken man. He had locked himself away in his house, and Molly was the only one allowed in. It was good thing too, that she was there because John was too distraught to care for Rosie.

Molly had tried to talk to him, hoping that maybe she could talk him into letting Sherlock back into his life, but when she would speak he would shake his head and stare at the floor. It disturbed her to see him like this.

The buzz from the phone on the counter snapped her back into reality. It wasn’t uncommon, his phone had been ringing off the hook as people heard what had happened. Molly never alerted him of the texts and calls, she knew he didn’t care.

And she wouldn’t have even given much thought to the text on his phone if she hadn’t glanced over to see it was a picture message.

Still holding Rosie, she leaned closer to the phone to see the message. It didn’t resemble the other’s words of consolation and he certainly hadn’t received a photograph before as someone sending their condolences. And the name of the sender wasn’t even complete. All it said was “E.”

So she unlocked the phone. Sherlock had told her John’s password, just in case she would ever have a need for it. When the text came up she saw that this message wasn’t a condolence at all. In fact, the cheerfulness of the message conveyed that they didn’t even know what had happened.

It was a selfie. A picture of some red-haired woman smiling with her hand up as if she were waving.

“Miss you! 😊”

Trying to grasp what she was seeing and hoping that what she was reading could be out of context- how it could be out of context she had no idea- she scrolled up to see the above messages.

She dropped the phone on the counter and went to put Rosie in her crib.

She then came back, grabbed the phone and burst into the living room, where John sit on the couch in the same place he had been for days.

“You left your phone in the kitchen.”

She held it at her side in a fist.

“I don’t care to see any-”

“I know you don’t.” She was shaking, as was her voice. “You bas-” she stopped herself and let out a breath.


“You got a message,” she sneered as she threw his phone at him, landing on the coffee table and cracking the screen, “someone named ‘E.’”

He sat frozen, staring at the phone, with 'E’s face smiling through the cracked screen.

“Now you listen to me. I do not care that you were cheating on Mary. You must feel awful because now she’s dead.” Her voice gave out as the word “dead” came out of her mouth. She threw her hand up to cover her sob.

“But you… will not take this out on Sherlock. You’re doing this because you feel guilty. This isn’t just grief, it’s guilt, and you’re making yourself angry at Sherlock so that you don’t have to feel like you did something wrong. It was Sherlock, right? Sherlock’s fault.” She still shook.

“He has tried to contact you, and to help, I had to turn him away yesterday when he came 'round, I had to tell him that you wanted anyone but him. You should have seen the look on his face, John, oh, I wanted to die right there. And so did he. And it’s not because it was his fault, Mary threw herself… in front of the bullet. You’re taking this out on Sherlock, John, because you’re guilty, and you need to stop because you’re going to kill him!”

Rosie began to cry in the other room at hearing the yelling.

“Sherlock’s not the one at fault, John. It’s you.”

The room filled with silence. Molly wiped her face with her hand and looked out the window, gathering herself.

She looked down at the floor and cleared her throat, then looked back up at John who faced her with the same expression he wore before, if not slightly worse.

“Anyway, I’m taking Rosie with me to the store. I’ll be back in a bit.”

She turned and left the living room, entering into Rosie’s room to gather the crying child into her arms to cry with her.