rosie is us

Anyway, at this point johnlock is canon.

John and Rosie move into 221b and it’s like “wait only two bedrooms oh nooooo what shall we ever do? 👀” And Sherlock is a gentleman and offers John his bed and he will of course sleep on the couch and John says “don’t be ridiculous” and so it only makes sense for them to share a bed PLATONICALLY of course.

But then one night, after a few weeks of this arrangement, John is like “is this normal? I mean…do friends do this sort of thing?” And Sherlock says “I doubt it. But then, when have we ever been normal?” And looks over to John with a soft smile and John looks back and they both burst into giggles just like that first night.

And John closes the distance between them like it’s the most natural thing in the world, because it IS. Because it’s real and it fits and Sherlock makes a sound like he’s broken and the two of them kiss and kiss and kiss, like they’ve got all the time in the world. Because they do, now. They have that time.

And eventually Rosie cries on the baby monitor and John breaks the kiss to get her and Sherlock says “I’ll come with” and the two of them share sweet sipping kisses while tending to the baby and John says “You’re going to kill me! I’m trying to be a proper parent here,” and Sherlock shrugs and says “Rosie needs to get used to seeing us this way anyway” and John is like “Oi! I don’t really want our little girl to watch us make out.”

And Sherlock freezes and his eyes fill and he says “Our little girl?” And John realizes and his heart breaks a little and he and Rosie go into Sherlock’s arms and both clutch at him and John says “of course, yes, OURS” and if his voice wavers a little with unshed tears, Sherlock doesn’t mention it.

They hold each other like that until their daughter is sleeping soundly once more and they put her back in her crib and when they make love, it’s at the same unhurried pace that they kissed. Because they have the time now. They have forever.

Must Read YA Novels

Since last year (2014), I’ve been obsessed with YA Novels. Therefore, I decided to make a list of the ones I read last year and consider a “must read”. They are beautiful stories about love, friendship, family, hope, overcoming all odds, and fighting for what you want. There isn’t a single novel in this list that didn’t touch my heart and inspired me in a million different ways. Here you go!

Looking for Alaska - John Green

The Fault in Our Stars - John Green

Paper Towns - John Green

If I Stay - Gayle Forman

Where She Went (“If I Stay” sequel) - Gayle Forman

Love, Rosie (Where Rainbows End) - Cecilia Ahern

Before I Fall - Lauren Oliver

We Were Liars - E. Lockhart

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before - Jenny Han

The Infinite Moment of Us - Lauren Myracle

First Comes Love - Katie Kacvinsky  

Second Chance (“First Comes Love” book 2) - Katie Kacvinsky

Finally Forever (“First Comes Love” book 3) - Katie Kacvinsky

The Geography of You and Me - Jennifer E. Smith

Faking Normal - Courtney C. Steven (One of my ALL TIME FAVORITES)

The Summer I Turned Pretty - Jenny Han

It’s Not Summer Without You (“The Summer I Turned Pretty” book 2) - Jenny Han

We’ll Always Have Summer (“The Summer I Turned Pretty” book 3) - Jenny Han

Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell

I Am The Messenger - Markus Zusak

I’ll be posting my 2015 list soon! :)

greymantledlady  asked:

For a ficlet prompt, how about Sherlock teaching little Rosie something - like how to dance or how to play the violin? And John watching and just being so full of love for them both <3 :)

“I’m bored.” 

Sherlock looks up from the couch and starts laughing. “Well, that won’t do. Find a way to entertain yourself.”

John hits him on the head. “You utter hypocrite.”

But Rosie is still frowning, and Sherlock grins, hoisting himself up. 

“Right, then. What do you want to do, darling?”

Rosie pauses, characteristically thoughtful. Then: “Learn something new.” 

Sherlock almost does a double take. It’s something he would have said, so many years ago. “Alright,” he nods. Then, teasing: “Violin?”

She shakes your head. “I told you, Daddy, it makes my fingers hurt.” 

Sherlock hums. There is a thought at the back of his mind. He could… but no, it was years ago. There’s no way he could… but then, he considers Rosie’s expectant face. Perhaps… “Wait right there,” he says, and dashes to his room.

*

John looks on as Sherlock rushes off with a bemused look. He turns to Rosie who is wearing a matching expression, and he snorts. “Your guess is as good as mine, love.”

Then he hears an odd clack clack clack on the kitchen floor. John stands, and walks over, and sees Sherlock standing there, a little hesitantly, dressed in-

“Sherlock, are they tap shoes?”

Sherlock nods. “Cuban heels.” He does a tiny tap with his toe, and Rosie darts out from behind John, transfixed. Sherlock smiles at her. “Sounds fun, yeah?”

“You never told me you could tap dance.”

Sherlock shrugs, but it is an action that seems over-practiced. “Well, the right-mo-um- case never came up.”

John smiles at him. “Okay. Well, hold on, you need music to do this properly.”

Sherlock steps back a little. “I-I’ve not done it in years, John. So, don’t be ridiculous and expect- oh, I don’t know- Fred Astaire or something.”

“Yeah, yeah,” John replies absently, preoccupied with typing. The music blares and he turns to see Sherlock frowning. 

“What’s this?”

“Oh, you won’t know it. Some pop song, but someone’s done a tap version.”

“Hmm.”

Sherlock takes a beat to listen to the song. Then, he starts out slow taps that gradually build to become faster and faster, until he’s grinning, out of breath a little, humming in time to the song and extending his arms. God, John thinks, he’s brilliant

Rosie giggles and claps her hand, dancing all around Sherlock and Sherlock still manages to take care not to tread on her socked feet. 

“You like that? Fun, isn’t it?” He scoops her up and bounces her as he dances, and John just watches. Aren’t they magnificent. 

The song ends and Sherlock exhales, face glowing. “I can measure you for shoes, if you want,” he says to Rosie, and she nods enthusiastically, “Yes, yes!” 

They collapse onto the couch and John joins them.

“Nothing serious, though,” Sherlock reassures John, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Just fun.”

John kisses him back. “Alright, Mr Astaire.”


^The song John put on. ;) <3

I’m taking ficlet prompts. <3

  • *221B*
  • Sherlock: *sitting in his chair*
  • Rosamund: *sitting in his lap; frowning at a photo* What am I looking at, Uncle Sherlock?
  • Sherlock: *smiles* My baby *points* that's the head, see?
  • Rosamund: *fascinated* Wooow...all those squiggly lines are a person?
  • Sherlock: *chuckles* Yes.
  • Rosamund: Your person.
  • Sherlock: *nods* Yup. And your Aunt Molly's.
  • Rosamund: *giggles* It's funny.
  • Sherlock: Hmm?
  • Rosamund: *still laughing* Aunt Molly has a person in her. How did you put it there?
  • Sherlock: *snorts* Oh, no *lifts her and stands* I'm not having that conversation for another twenty five years.
  • Molly: *enters; grinning* Hello.
  • Rosamund: *happily* Aunt Molly! *runs over; hugs her, whispers* hello, little person.
  • Molly: *smiles* You told her, then?
  • Sherlock: *nods* Oh, yes *pats Rosie's head* you're going to be a godcousin, aren't you?
  • Rosamund: *excited* Uh-huh.
  • Molly: *giggles* Is that so?
  • Sherlock: *nudges Rosie* Pyjamas, young lady. I'll be in soon.
  • Rosamund: *sighs* Okay, Uncle Sherlock. Night Aunt, Molly. Night, little person *runs off*
  • Molly: *calls* Night, Rosie *hugs Sherlock* I'm glad she took it well.
  • Sherlock: *kisses the top of her head* Mmm *pauses* John has some questions to answer, though.
PT.1

PT.2 |PT.3 | PT.4| PT.5| PT.6 | PT.7| PT.8| PT.9| PT.10| PT.11| PT.12| PT.13

They stood in the center of the flat to take in the damage. Sherlock crossed his arms and kicked his foot at the remains of a book. John, holding Rosie, shifted her to his right and turned to Sherlock. The man was unusually quiet, and only uttered a few words when they entered the flat. The walls were black, the décor was scorched and ruined. Everything that they loved in that flat, everything that made 221B was gone. John jumped when Sherlock moved suddenly. He made his way over to the stand that used to hold his music sheets and set it upright. Sherlock turned to his favorite armchair and his brows furrowed. John watched carefully as his gaze went from his chair, to John’s favorite chair. What he didn’t expect to see was a tear roll down Sherlock’s cheek as he whispered, “It’s all gone now, John.”

John wanted to rush over and embrace him, as Sherlock did when he cried. Sherlock only said a few words, but each word was uttered with such pain that it broke John’s heart to see him so distraught.

“How long will it take to renovate?”

Sherlock wiped a tear away and exhaled. “Knowing Mycroft, he’ll have the top contractors in England come to fix the place up. Even then…everything is…everything is…it’s just gone, John. My chemistry set, my music, my chair. How can they replace that?”

John could only offer a smile at present even though he knew that it didn’t do much to lift his friend’s spirits.

“Don’t think of it as replacement, Sherlock. Think of it more as restoration.”

Sherlock’s eyes met John’s. “Restore, replace, what does it matter anymore? I don’t even have anywhere else to sleep until this flat is fixed.”

John’s mouth hung open. Of course, how could he forget? Where is Sherlock going to be staying during this? He can’t possibly sleep in his bedroom when the flat was in this condition. Did no one think to ask him, or did everybody assume that he knew what to do?

“You could stay with me,” John said without hesitation, “Er…you can stay with us. Rosie and I, until your flat is fixed.”

Sherlock’s lip quivered at John’s suggestion, and for a moment, John thought that he was going to cry again.

“John I…I couldn’t possibly…”

“Nonsense, Sherlock! I invited you after all.”

Sherlock tilted his head as he thought about the proposal. “Well, I suppose I could take the sofa.”

John’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Are you daft? The Great Sherlock Holmes, kip on the sofa? No, you can bunk with me…if you’d like that is.”

Sherlock froze much like the time when he was asked to be best man.

“John, are you asking me to…share a bed with you?”

Rosie let out a noise and John rubbed her back. “Yes…I…uh…it’s the only bed I got. Rosie’s got the other bedroom and the sofa is far from comfortable to sleep…”

Sherlock cut him off mid-sentence by whisking off towards his bedroom. “Just let me grab a few things and we’ll be off.”

John was left in the middle of the living room dumbfounded. He was going to be sharing a bed with Sherlock for who knows how long. The thought alone excited him.

———–

Here it is!  The first part of the ficlet/fic? Anyway, enjoy! 

@sappylock @vitruvianwatson @ireneadlershipsjohnlock @im-batt-mellamy @justsherlythings7 @wellthengameover @bronzedviolets @now–what @johnandsherlocks 

and I think that’s everyone! Please remind me if I forgot, or send me a message if you would like to be tagged for the next parts! 

Holby City Ladies ~ Current cast with some Louise Delamere & Niamh Walsh action, because who didn’t love Colette and Cara??

Many thanks to all these talented actresses for giving us a plethora of women to admire - all  so very glorious and powerful in their own way. 

THE LAST SHADOW PUPPETS - EVERYTHING YOU’VE COME TO EXPECT

10

Books that I think you should read (Individual/Series)

  • The Perks Of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
  • Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell
  • Love, Rosie by Cecelia Ahen
  • Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins
  • Isla and the Happily Ever After by Stephanie Perkins
  • The Future of Us by Jay Asher and Carolyn Mackler
  • The Statistical Probability Of Love At First Sight by Jennifer Smith
  • Me Before You by Jojo Moyes
  • Why we Broke up by Daniel Handler
  • 13 Reasons Why by Jay Asher

John makes his way up the stairs with their takeaway, and pauses on the top step as he hears a faint cry. He half winces, half smiles. Perhaps Rosie getting used to her earlier bed-time right away was a bit ambitious.

He hears Sherlock’s voice from the hall- tutting, actually tutting, and so John hovers between the step and the doorway, unseen.

Sherlock comes into view, gently bouncing Rosie up and down in his arms. “Now, you’re not meant to be awake, I hope you know that,” and his voice is so soft that John’s breath catches in his throat. Sherlock should have spotted him hiding by now, but he is enraptured by Rosie. 

She wails loudly and Sherlock doesn’t even flinch. In fact, he laughs. “Yes, sorry, you’re stuck with me,” he says. “I would sing if it’d help, but that’s your Dad’s forté.”

John looks up, and blinks hard.

“Come on,” Sherlock murmurs. He’s rocking her, now, swaying her back into sleep. “Come on, darling. I know, let’s have a look out here, you’d like that, hmm?”

With one hand, Sherlock reaches across and opens the curtains a little. Rosie peers out- intrigued, but glazing over slightly as she drifts off. 

“You’re going to have so much fun,” Sherlock whispers. His head has bent down, his lips just brushing the top of her head. “Just look at that, Rosie. Billions of people in the world, all of them connected in some way, and they don’t even know it yet, some of them.” She sighs deeply, sleepily. “That’s it, sssh. You don’t know it yet, but you’re going to have the best adventure, I just know it.”

Her eyes are completely closed now, and Sherlock gradually slows his rocking. “But the best part is coming home,” he finishes, and he says with reverence, like it’s the most precious secret in the world.

John steps back to compose himself. When he goes through the doorway, Sherlock is off putting Rosie back into bed. He sets up the cutlery, the wine glasses, the containers of prawn crackers, and fortune cookies, and everything in between. 

He raises his head as he hears Sherlock’s quiet footsteps coming closer. “She’s not, you know that?”

Sherlock pours their wine, John’s glass first, then his own. “I’m sorry?”

“She’s not ‘stuck with you’,” John replies. 

Sherlock’s cheeks turn pink. “I- well-”

“She’s not,” John insists. He hands Sherlock his wine glass and taps it against his own. “We’re her family,” he says. He says it, bold and firm and clear as crystal.

Sherlock sets down the wine glass, and kisses him with the biggest grin on his face John has seen. They both pretend, for now, that it’s not a teary one.

The night before Valentine’s Day, the last carton of milk in the apartment mysteriously disappeared from the fridge. John wasn’t happy about waking up early to get to the store, but he did so anyway, and the minute the door closed behind him, Sherlock leaped out of his bed and went to wake Rosie.

They’d prepared plenty yesterday. Rosie had cut hearts out of pink construction paper, and now ran around the apartment, taping them to the walls. And Sherlock had done his job too. On each of two hundred origami cranes that he’d folded himself, he’d written “I love you,” and he placed them on every surface he could find. Mrs. Hudson had prepared a delicious batch of sugar cookies, which rested on the table, and she peeked in from the kitchen, ready to take photos. 

When they heard John open the door, Sherlock and Rosie quickly hid behind the couch, Rosie barely able to suppress her giggles. 

“Hello?” John called, stepping into the apartment, putting down his grocery bag, and looking around. Noticing the décor, he remembered which day it was. He’d scheduled a dinner for him, Rosie, Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, and Lestrade later that night, and bought a special present for both Sherlock and Rosie, but he hadn’t expected anything like this. Smiling, he continued into the living room. 

This was Rosie’s cue to dance out from behind the couch, while Mrs. Hudson pressed ‘play’ on the cassette player that Sherlock insisted on having for “reasons,” and “science.” “Father and Daughter” by Paul Simon began to play, and Rosie skipped around the living room while John watched, a huge grin on her little face as she tried different ballet poses that Sherlock had taught her.
John’s smile grew as he watched his daughter dance, and he wiped a tear from his eye. As the song ended, she pranced up to John, proudly delivering him a homemade card that read, “I Love You, Daddy” in pink sparkly letters.

John enveloped her in a huge hug, holding her tight and thanking her for the card, but he almost gasped when Sherlock rose from behind the couch, wearing his signature purple shirt and holding a bouquet of roses. 

Before John could speak, Sherlock gestured to Rosie, who skipped over and took the flowers from him and brought them back to her father, who accepted them with teary eyes.

And then “Wonderful Tonight” by Eric Clapton came on, but it wasn’t Eric singing– it was Sherlock’s voice, surprisingly soft and smooth, and all the she’s had been changed to he’s, and John gazed in awe as Sherlock began to dance.
He thought he’d never see anything more beautiful than Sherlock himself, but Sherlock dancing took it to a whole new level. He twirled and leaped delicately, his movements flowing together with the music, and John wondered how he even deserved this amazing a husband, this wonderfully romantic man who he couldn’t ever imagine being without.

The last verse approached, and Sherlock held out his hand to John, gesturing for him to come dance as well. Tears were streaming down John’s cheeks, and he’d never been so happy in his entire life as he took Sherlock by the hands and they danced, looking into each other’s eyes and smiling softly, an incredible moment that neither of them would ever forget.

My darling, you were wonderful tonight.

As the song ended, Sherlock leaned in to kiss John, and Rosie, very used to their displays of affection, clapped and jumped up and down gleefully. John reluctantly pulled away after a few seconds, and in a shaky voice, exclaimed, “I love you, Sherlock. Oh, God, I love you!”

“I love you too, John,” Sherlock whispered back, holding John close and pulling Rosie in so that the three of them could hug.

Mrs. Hudson’s camera flashed as the fathers and daughter embraced, laughing and smiling and full of love, and the tender scene lasted a long time.

And later on, when John unfolded every single one of Sherlock’s paper cranes to reveal two hundred “I love you’s,” his shoulders shook and he began to cry out of pure joy, and Sherlock wrapped his arms around his John and held him there, full of nothing but love that he knew would last forever. 

My darling, you were wonderful tonight.

~
~

_____________________________________________________________________

I didn’t give this one a title. It can speak for itself.