sherlock knitting cheer you up: some headcanons

Ummmm…Mrs. Hudson teaching Rosie to drive. Bonus: she lets her drive the Aston Martin.

Molly teaching Rosie how to knit. Rosie knits Sherlock a scarf and he wears it every chance he gets.

Also, Rosie hanging out in the morgue with Molly after school. Molly helping her with homework when Rosie needs it.

It’s not uncommon for Sally to join them. Rosie’s always asking about the details of Sally’s latest homicide case.

Sally letting Rosie do ride alongs during holiday breaks.

Irene taking Rosie shopping. In Paris.

Irene sending Rosie rare books that she finds whilst traveling the world. John has no idea where Rosie finds all these books.

All five of them gathering in Mrs. Hudson’s flat for tea. Sounds of laughter can always be heard. John and Sherlock are pretty sure they’re plotting world domination.

I hope these help!

Originally posted by agawssh

I love them all. I want to write them all. You are amazing, dear @equusgirl! ::hugs::


Only a tiny portion of my WIPs…I have a problem, I know.
My Sherlock blanket is kind of a never ending WIP. I don’t think I will ever consider myself out of squares I want to add, and I can’t really decide on the layout when I still adding to the stack so…
And socks! So many socks to knit. I will always have several socks in progress. Always. The ones on the top in considering frogging - fit issues or just lost interest. The ones on the bottom I absolutely love, and will finish. Hopefully before next fall so I can wear them. And then there’s my Christmas stocking. Not really a sock, but definitely a WIP that needs finished before *another* Christmas goes by.


Examples of some of the scarves I’ve made, all of which are on sale now on my etsy page; Hazelknit.

@angry-muggle-lord’s commission of a Doctor Watson scarf from Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows, a 12’ Doctor Who Scarf, and a personal project of a Newt Scamander Hufflepuff scarf (though extra long).

so one year for an anniversary gift Sherlock decides he’s gonna knit John a new jumper and he goes out and buys the softest wool he can find and a pattern he thinks would look lovely on John and he’s all excited to start, but actually doing it proves to be something of a challenge because he can’t quite get all the stitches to be the same size and also it’s repetitive and he gets bored so on several occasions he has to storm away from it after he drops one too many stitches or pokes himself one too many times, but he REALLY wants to make John happy so he’ll take it down to Mrs. Hudson so she can unravel it and fix his mistakes and they end up making a regular thing of it, Sherlock at the table and Mrs. Hudson pouring him tea and tutoring him on how to join seams together and such, and when he’s finally done he gives it to John and the pattern’s a little bit wonky and the edges a little rough but John goes really quiet and looks at him with wide eyes, you made this? and Sherlock nods and sees John’s eyes shining a bit before John pulls him into a bone crushing hug and his voice is rough as he whispers it’s beautiful, sweetheart, thank you so much, i love it, and then he pulls it on, and the colour really does bring out John’s eyes, Sherlock thinks happily, before John pulls him in for a deep, smiling kiss


I know I posted these before but I’m reposting these here to tag them properly.

Also I know I said these were for a giveaway but the people I contacted never responded back. Bummer for my first give away but it means that the first one to message me about either one can have them. Warning the tan one is shorter.

If I don’t hear from anyone I’ll just donate them because I knit pretty often and I’m starting to stock pile random pieces that I wont ever wear. Hopefully I’ll hear from someone if not these’ll go to someone who needs them

thanks and good night you little hoodlums

They're really not that heavy...

Just a crack-ish kind of ficlet that popped into my head. Enjoy.:)

Sherlock Holmes watched, bemused, as Molly Hooper hurried forward, wrapped two small hands around the metal bar, bent her knees, leaned back, and pulled.

He had never seen anyone manage to make doors look as heavy as Molly just had.

She looked over her shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow at his immobility.

“Aren’t you coming in, Sherlock?”

He knitted his brows.

“Not just yet. Would you please step aside, Molly?”

The pathologist huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Oh for chrissakes Sherlock, just get in.”

“Please, Molly? I would like to test something.”

With a long-suffering glare, Molly relinquished her hold on the door, letting it swing closed, and stepped aside.

Sherlock reached out one arm, wrapped his hand around the metal bar previously held by a much smaller pair of hands just a moment past, and pulled.

The door swung open easily with him exerting just minimal effort.

“It isn’t that heavy,” he said with a note of wonder.

“Of course it isn’t,” she exclaimed. Then, hesitantly, “Sherlock… You’re not…”

“High? Do stop being ridiculous, Molly. I think we’re past the days of you pretending to be less intelligent than we both know you are. I was simply wondering why you opened this door the way you did.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Molly blurted, her blush telling a different story.

He quirked a brow at her.

Annoyed, she glared up at him, cheeks still red.

"Okay, Consulting Detective. How about you deduce why I do it like that?”

She stuck her chin out and crossed her arms.

Without missing a beat, he answered, “Efficiency, obviously.”

She shrugged.

“Well there you go. You knew it all along, why ask?”

He had the gall to roll his eyes like she was the exasperating one, the prick.

“Because, Molly Hooper, that door is nowhere near heavy enough to merit much beyond minimal effort, so there’s no reason to open it other than the normal way, and frankly you just look ridiculously adorable opening it the way you did.”

She blinked up at him.

“What? What did you say?”

“I said, that door is-”

“No, the last bit.”

Another eyeroll from the manchild, and Molly Hooper’s palm started itching, but she kept her temper in check.

“I said, you just look ridiculous opening that door-”


“Excuse me?”

“You are a liar, William Sherlock Scott Holmes.”

“I beg your pardon, Margaret Anne Hooper.”

“That was not what you said. You had better repeat what you actually said or this first date is not happening.”

Sherlock sighed, but a corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a telltale smile.

“Fine, Doctor Hooper,” he drawled, his voice dropping to melting dark chocolate levels. His arm snaked around her waist, and she let him pull her closer, “I said, you look so absolutely adorable opening doors in that quirky little way of yours, that I’m tempted to let you open doors for me all the time just to watch you do it.”

She dimpled up at him.

“Close enough. Now let’s head in. I’m famished.”

Sherlock stepped forward, keeping her tucked against him as he pulled the door open. The smell of fish and chips greeted them and Molly’s mouth watered.

“Why did you not just wait for me to open the door for you anyway?” Sherlock asked once they were seated, his thumb running over her knuckles as they held hands atop the table.

She smiled impishly.

“It’s the 21st century, my dear Sherlock. And really, doors aren’t that heavy.”

“Sherlock, can I come in now?”


“Why not?”

“Not finished.”

“With what?”


“Oh dear God, couldn’t you have prepared your surprise a few days earlier? It’s cold out here.”

“Nope. I only had the idea last night.”

Day 30 of the Seasonal Fucking Cheer 2016 Ficathon. I’ll try and post one drawing for each day, and tag them #sfcficathon. Today’s prompt was: 30. I’ve left all of my holiday decisions to the last minute; what could possibly go wrong?

It was too late. 

He was too late.

His words, though sincere, fell flat.

Molly couldn’t suppress the angry tears, or the accompanying frown. “How dare you?”

Sherlock gaped for a moment, wordless, before managing to speak. “I– I beg your pardon?”

“How dare you say such a thing?” She clenched her fists, her jaw; she squeezed her eyes shut. “I’ve told you countless times, you insensitive prick. Yet you still feel the need to tease and embarrass me, as though I’m some sort of plaything. I’m not an experiment, Sherlock.”

Bewilderment played across his features. “Th-that’s not–”

“Get out,” she said, staring him down.


“Get out of my morgue!” She hadn’t stamped her foot, but she may as well have.

Sherlock turned quietly and left.


“Rubbish timing,” John said later that evening as he sat at his kitchen table with his friend.

“Rubbish emotions,” Sherlock quipped. “How is it that, with everything else in my mind, I still have room for the damned things?”

John shushed him; Rosie was asleep in the next room. “You’re still human,” he replied quietly.

The consultant leaned forward, face in his hands. “How can I even know for sure what I’m feeling toward Molly?" 

"You do care about her,” John said matter-of-factly. “However, you might have come to me before bungling it up. I still can’t believe you told her you were ‘ready to have a go at a relationship.’”

“Just… help me fix it,” Sherlock said quietly, looking up at his friend. “Please.”

John just stared at him. Sherlock almost never asked for help, let alone politely.

“Fine,” he replied. “I’ll do what I can.”


After a sleepless night, Molly decided to call John for advice.

He answered at the first ring. “Molly? I was just about to call.”

“Oh,” she replied. “Did you need me to come over?”

“If that’s alright.” John glanced over at Rosie, who was making a mess of breakfast, and Sherlock, who’d fallen asleep at the table. 

“As long as Sherlock isn’t there,” she said. 

“Oh, he won’t be,” John lied.

When Molly arrived, John answered the door with a grumpy Rosie in his arms. She took the toddler and followed John to his living room, sitting down on the sofa across from him.

“Can I talk to you about something?” Molly asked, gently stroking Rosie’s hair.

“Er, yeah,” John replied. “Of course.”

“Sherlock…” she started. “Sherlock came to my morgue last night.”

John said nothing.

“He… doesn’t know where to draw the line, does he?” She set Rosie on the floor with her toys. 

John pressed his lips together. He was looking at Rosie, but his true focus was on her godmother. He sighed before replying. “How long has it been since the last time he carelessly trampled on your feelings? Months? A year?”

Her eyebrows drew together. It had been a while. “What are you getting at?” she asked.

“Clarify for me,” John said, already knowing the answer. “What did he say to you?”

Molly scoffed. “He told me he was 'ready to have a go’ at a relationship.” She swallowed hard. “With me.”

“Hm.” John thought for a moment before speaking again. “I can see why you think he was taking the mick.”

“Well, he can’t very well be serious,” she replied, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees.

Rosie threw her doll at Molly, who handed the doll back saying, “Rosie, remember, we must be gentle with babies.”

Rosie took it back and hugged it before going back to playing alone.

“Why not?” John asked. “Why can’t he be serious?”

Molly smiled bitterly. “You know how he is. All logic, no emotion. He prefers drugs to actual human company.”

John shook his head, a smile playing across his lips. “That’s what he wants people to think. He only pretends not to care. He can’t get hurt if he won’t let anyone get close enough.”

She bit her lip. Her heart ached to accept that as truth, but… “Maybe that’s what he wants you to think.” …she didn’t want to take the chance.

“Molly…” John sighed. “I know it’s hard for you to believe or accept, but Sherlock does care.”

She shook her head.

“Molly.” Her gaze darted up to the door, where Sherlock stood with sleepless eyes and disheveled hair.

She turned to John, her voice barely above a whisper. “You said he wouldn’t be here.”

“Molly,” Sherlock said softly, stepping into the room. “Please.”

John stood, picked Rosie up, and left the room. He’d done what he could.

Molly got to her feet, arms crossed, and eyes welling up with tears. “Why, Sherlock?”

He knit his eyebrows. “Why?" 

"Why me? Why now?”

“Why you?” he replied, tentatively stepping closer. “You are kind… caring. You see the best in people. The best in me. You have always,” his voice cracked, “been a good friend. Why now?” He sighed, shaking his head. “It’s not just now. It’s been… too long. I…” He paused. “I wanted you to be happy, and… I didn’t think you could be happy with me.”

The silence that followed was deafening. 

Sherlock mentally counted down. If she doesn’t say anything by the time I reach zero, I’ll just leave, he thought. The heart that had been purposely hardened felt heavier with each passing second. At zero, he turned, but stopped when she spoke.

“How long?” she asked quietly, letting her arms fall to her sides.

“I’m not sure,” he replied, still facing the door. “But… the day you said you didn’t count–it was the day I realized that you do count, Molly. More than anyone. More than… more than me.”

Another pause.

“One chance,” she said.

Sherlock turned back to face her again. “Sorry?”

“I can offer you one chance, Sherlock. If…” She took a breath. “If this is a joke, an experiment, or anything like that, you’ll tell me right now. If I find out on my own, that’s it. I won’t ever want to see you or hear from you again. Do you understand?”

Sherlock nodded silently.

“Now, tell me: are you serious about this? Do you absolutely mean what you’ve said?” Molly closed her fists, bracing herself for the answer.

He slowly closed the distance between them, leaned down, and kissed her gently before answering.


Sherlock being all caught up in a case that spans over a few months, not noticing that he needs a hair cut until his bangs are continuously getting in his eyes. however he goes to a Very Specific stylist for his hair and he’s too preoccupied with the case to make an appt so he just pulls his bangs up in a lil ponytail on top of his head so he can see

John comes home to see Sherlock like that in front of his microscope and can’t help but just stop and stare at him, a small bemused smile and fondness in his eyes as he waits for a possible explanation until Sherlock looks up, brows knitting together in a confused frown, having forgotten what he did to his hair “what? What are you staring at, what is it?”

the evening continues and at one point John gets a picture, to Sherlock’s continued confusion, until they’re going to bed and Sherlock catches his reflection in the mirror as realisation dawns moments before he goes after a laughing John until they inevitably collapse in a tangled heap on the bed and John says, between kisses and breathless giggles, “no, really. it’s sexy. Really sexy. You should do it more often.”


Consulting cuties.
Crochet Sherlock and John - united at last!

Don’t they look beyond cute together??

(I know they still look a bit wonky in places, but it was the first time ever I made something like this…)

Sherlock’s individual post.
John’s individual post.


Adventures in knitting: when the gauge just isn’t good

I decided to take on the shersocks pattern, by lattes and llamas (the same people behind the geekalong blanket) in hopes of getting an awesome pair of socks, and a few eat.sleep.knit. Badges in the process.

I cast on the other day, and as I progressed I grew fearful that I was creating a sock that would only fit hagrid. I kept going on, trying to trust the process (and hoping I wouldn’t loose all of the work I’ve done!).

When I got home last night, I compared the size of the shersocks to another pair of socks I am working on, and knew it was time to formulate a plan b…. Good news, the sock fit my kindle paper white! I made it a little longer, finished with a Kitchener bind off, and added an i-cord and a button for a cute little sleeve.

Now, onto a second sock attempt!

Sherlock was a little slower on his feet these days, but his mind was as sharp as the days when he and John danced through London. Sherlock noticed that John’s beloved sweater vests were starting to look a bit ragged, so he ordered some supplies to knit John a purple sweater vest. Sherlock had always loved when John wore the color purple especially along with one of his many pairs of red pants. Sherlock had never knit before, but he was able to work quickly and let his mind wander to topics of more importance. The finished product was beautiful and Sherlock was proud to place the snuggly sweater in John’s hands. Once Sherlock got John into his creation, he bent over and kissed the buttons sewn down the front smiling as John’s hands found his graying curls.


Ok lovely hooligans I’m here in Oxford! So to celebrate I’m finally posting my Sherlock knitting! You have to read the first side to get the second one but I’m so proud because this took FOREVER but it was a blast to make! Show a Sherlock knitter some love guys