sherlock likes making sure everyone knows john is his


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John can’t remember the last time he had been so happy to just stay in his home with Rosie. He was resting his back on the arm of the sofa watching Sherlock play peekaboo with Rosie on the floor. She was just as infatuated with him as he was. Sherlock was simply that wonderful. Did he know this? Sure, he had his moments of being particularly nasty, but so does everybody. But that’s because everyone else made him feel like that it was the only way to live. Sherlock didn’t allow himself to be this soft with anybody besides himself and Mrs. Hudson, sometimes.


“What?” Sherlock turned to him and John’s heart skipped a beat.


“You said something.” Sherlock was giving him the “you’re a git” look.

“I did?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and tilted his head. “John you’re not making any sense.”

John didn’t realize he said that out loud, but now he was embarrassed and he needed a diversion. “Do you want some tea? I’ve been wanting some for a while now.”

Sherlock was holding Rosie’s hands and he watched John rush to the kitchen with a puzzled look. “I’d like a cup.” John nodded and started to look in cupboards for two cups, he hoped Sherlock wasn’t still staring at him, God he was an idiot. It was only one word, but he let it slip and now Sherlock thinks he’s an idiot. He let out a sigh of relief when he heard Sherlock laughing over Rosie’s mumbling. It made John’s heart sing when he heard her so happy. What he hadn’t expected to hear was Sherlock’s voice singing gently to the baby.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey…”

John closed his eyes and clutched the counter, how much more could he fall in with this man? He was already neck-deep in his amount of love and to hear Sherlock singing, he wasn’t sure he could handle it. Sherlock had so much love in his heart and even the most coldest of men could hear it when he sang. He couldn’t help it, he had to see Sherlock’s face while he sang the children’s song. He wanted to etch the memory of Sherlock’s face while he sang. He turned around and Sherlock was looking directly into Rosie’s eyes, his mouth, the mouth that John loved so much, the soft pink lips that he kissed. That mouth and those lips were curved into a smile so delicate and fragile that John physically felt his heart wrench at how painfully beautiful he was. Sherlock’s blue eyes flickered up to John’s, and he continued to sing softly, “You’ll never know dear, how much I love you…please don’t take my sunshine away…”

John blinked and Sherlock was enveloped in Rosie again, laughing and playing with her. It happened so fast that John thought he imagined it. Sherlock was singing to him. He smiled and returned to making the tea. He replayed Sherlock singing in his mind, despite it just happening. If only it were recorded, he would play it repeatedly until the disc broke. He hummed it softly still thinking of those gorgeous eyes looking right through him, straight into his core and singing those lines so carefully. He heard Sherlock say, “Are you growing the tea leaves yourself? You’re taking an awful long time.”

John chuckled and said, “Exercise patience!”

Sherlock only graced him with yet another treasured smile, and resumed playing with the oblivious infant. John poured the tea into the mugs and whispered, “Please don’t take my sunshine away…”


Don’t worry, this won’t be the last time Sherlock sings nursery songs! 

@sappylock @vitruvianwatson @fortheloveofjawn @justsherlythings7 @willasherlyscottholmes @johnandsherlocks @the-three-garridebs @akablue24 @worthless-dude @the-john-to-your-sherlock @angel-loving-star @toooldforthatsh–stuff @beekeepers-in-love @jubalya @im-batt-mellamy @random-nexus @imworkingonit86 @buckynotbuchanan @deathfrisbee-221b @teeeffdee @mycroftpotter @purplejayee @funkychickzz @bronzedviolets @now–what @wellthengameover @superspringles @gimmeastartoreachfor @orphengesic-tab @froggie95 @certaincollectiontravelerlove @enchanted-captainswan @sirarthurcanondoyle @watsonsanatomy @aconsultinghobbitinthetardis @loveismyrevolution @missmuffin221 @chulia25 @jazziejexbird @ink-in-murder @thegameisgay @usuallynotusual @sspectacularlyignorant @theelephantin221b @justinmymindpalace @masterofhounds @fallingoffbarts @sherlock-totally-loves-john @shayspieterse @loveteaelephants @tealfox-10-24 @cow-mow @vaticancameos-andtea @reallyimpossibleartisan @lets-play-muuurder @deathishauntedbyhumans @sairyn-noc @wholockian16 @221beestings @real-life-reichenbach @ttennis1121 @treacherous-siren @frozenrendezvous @beardchr @deliriouslylazyafternoons @hushwatson @chinike @jael3333 @fuck-off-watson @wilde-grrrl @pepperminotaur @castiel-is-not-a-god @bisexualowl @simpleanddestructivechemistry @daisyfairy1 @calliopecookiejar @missdeliadili @thegayingdetective @miss-phanatic @cj-holmes @escaroles @bleedingverses​ @morgendaemmerung89 @bvil23 @gobacktobakerstreet @wingedpurplewords @aznaks @johnlock-reality @clueless-kait @katthepotato

Annnnd I think that’s everyone! 

What Are They Like on Their Wedding Day- Sherlock

Originally posted by silent-micka

  • Honestly? Everyone else is more worried about the state of the wedding than he is. While he’s calmly lounging in his chair, John is freaking out over the fact that they still don’t have directions to the chapel and they’re going to be an hour late at this rate. (“Would you calm down, John? It’s only a wedding. It can’t start until both the bride and groom are present.” “Are you kidding me right now?!”)
  • John is basically a mother hen the entire day; making sure his tie is on correctly (because the man may know the chemical formula of formaldehyde but apparently he can’t do something as simple as tie a tie) and ensuring he’s at the altar when he’s supposed to be.
  • He’s not exactly sentimental, but he made an effort to write vows that accurately expressed his feelings for you.
  • The man is graceful for someone with long limbs. You regret not taking dance classes when you trip over both your feet and his.
  • Sherlock wasn’t really in favor of a photographer, but as soon as he saw the photo of you two swaying together on the dance floor he was glad he gave on this.

Send in headcanon requests!

Why was Sherlock so emotional in the last scene with Irene?

A Scandal in Belgravia is a very sad episode as nearly all the characters go through a painful period in their lives. But the one who went through the worst was Sherlock. Not John. Not even Irene. Sherlock. 

Ever wondered why Sherlock was so emotional when he finally unlocked Irene’s phone? 

Because he loved her and felt betrayed? 

Argument #1: This episode is one of the most Johnlock ones. There are plenty of scenes which openly show the need, jealousy, sexual tension Sherlock and John feel for each other. The scenes that could be interpreted as sexual tension between Sherlock and Irene are much fewer in comparison. As for Sherlock, he never showed clear romantic interest in Irene. But see this for evidence for his feelings for John and see this because I don’t believe he was completely indifferent towards Irene either

Argument #2: Did really Irene betray Sherlock? When and in what way? Irene OUTSMARTED Sherlock. She never betrayed him. She never promised him anything. By the end of the episode we found out that she has been really in love with Sherlock. Madly, in fact. No betrayal, then.

And Sherlock knew it all along. 

Starting from their very first meeting:

When the american agents forced Sherlock to open the safe, Irene tried to help him. She did confirm that Sherlock didn’t know the code. But why? Weren’t they enemies a couple of minutes ago? Wouldn’t it be better for Irene to let her enemies “eat” each other? Of course, “””oblivious””” Sherlock noticed.

And Irene realized her mistake. (Well, mistake in a cold-blooded viewpoint.)

Then Irene started texting Sherlock. The first thing she texted him was “Till the next time, Mr Holmes.” And Sherlock ‘s face was priceless:

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Hello Detective Chapter 37

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   Part 11   Part 12   Part 13   Part 14   Part 15   Part 16   Part 17   Part 18   Part 19   Part 20   Part 21   Part 22   Part 23   Part 24   Part 25   Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Part 29 Part 30  Part 31  Part 32  Part 33   Part 34   Part 35   Part 36   Part 37   Part 38  Part 39   Part 40     Part 41   Part 42   Part 43   Part 44   Part 45   Part 46   Part 47   Part 48   Part 49   Part 50  Part 51  Part 52 Part 53  Part 54  Part 55   Part 56  Part 57 Part 58 Part 59 Part 60 Part 61

The Hollow was like nothing you had ever seen before. It was like you were down in the earth surrounded by large trees. You felt like the headless horseman was going to come running through the wood any moment. In all fairness, the place did have an eerie feel about it. It seemed like the temperature dropped ten degrees when you got there. You moved closer to Sherlock as you looked around.

When you made it to the bottom your head began to spin. You noticed several large foot prints on the ground. There was something so dark about the place. You began to feel light headed. It was almost as if every breath you took was making you more and more light headed. Like you were breathing something you shouldn’t. Your heart was racing, almost like fear.

You began to hear howling and as you turned around to find the noise your legs gave out. You fell, completely unconscious. You had never fainted before, there was something wrong with this place. On your way down, as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, you tried to grab Sherlock’s arm but you missed.

“Y/N?” Sherlock yelled, as he turned and saw you on the ground. He knelt down beside you, placing your head in his hands. He was shaking in fear, he couldn’t believe what he had just seen. He checked to make sure you had a pulse, which you did. You were just out cold.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” Henry kept repeating. “You saw it, didn’t you? She must have seen it.”

Sherlock picked you up and carried you out of the Hollow. Once at the edge of the woods near Henry’s house you ran into John. Another howl filled the air.

“Did you hear that? Oh my God, what happened?” John asked when he saw Sherlock carrying you.

“We saw it. We saw it!” Henry cried.

“No, I didn’t see anything. She’s unconscious, she must have fainted.” Sherlock answered.

“What? What are you talking about?” Henry asked, knowing Sherlock had seen something.

“I didn’t see anything.” Sherlock repeated as he carried you into Henry’s house and laid you down on a couch.

“I saw it. He must have. I guarantee she saw it too, that’s why she fainted.” Henry said. Sherlock knew that wasn’t the reason you fainted, it must have had something to do with the fact that you were sick. He was having trouble believing what he saw though. Henry kept rambling about seeing it.

“Henry, Henry, I need you to sit down. Try and relax, please.” John pointed to a chair while he checked on you. He too checked your pulse, relieved when it was there. John used his flashlight to check your pupils. You seemed to be fine, you would have a terrible headache when you woke up though.

“This is good. I’m not crazy. There is a hound, there is. And Sherlock, he saw it too. No matter what he says, he saw it.” Henry said.

You began to stir while John knelt beside you.

“Y/N? Y/N, can you hear me?” John asked, as your eyes slowly blinked open.

“John?” You asked, slowly looking around. “What happened?”

“You fainted, we need to get you back to the Inn and to bed. I knew it was a bad idea to bring you…” John began.

“Did you see it?” Henry asked you suddenly. Your head was spinning, you had a migraine, and you just wanted to go to bed.

“I don’t.. I…” You muttered, holding your head in your hands.

“Henry, I’m going to give you something to help you sleep, but I need you to calm down okay? I need to get Y/N home.” John said, as he helped you to your feet.

He brought you back to the Inn & pub and Sherlock was sitting in front of the fire. When he saw you walk in, holding onto John’s arm for support, he jumped to his feet.

“Are you alright?” He asked, placing his hands on your arms, examining you. You nodded slowly.

“I was taking her to the room.” John said.

“I’ll take her.” Sherlock said, leading you back to the room while John stayed in the pub.

Inside the room, Sherlock sat you down on the bed and sat down next to you.

“Did you see it too, Y/N?” Sherlock asked, nervously.

“I don’t remember, I don’t think so.” You began to cry, he wrapped his arms around you. “Sherlock, that place, there something bad there. I heard something and when I turned around everything just went black.”

“I know, I know. I don’t know what I saw. I’m sorry, I got you into this mess. You could have been safely at home.” Sherlock said as he held you.

“It’s not your fault. I don’t know what happened in the Hollow Sherlock, but it wasn’t your fault.” You told him.

“Go to sleep.” Sherlock said, kissing your forehead. You nodded and laid back in the bed. You crawled under the covers as Sherlock left to meet John in the pub.

As Sherlock returned to his chair in front of the fire his mind raced. He was trying to save face with you, but once he was just with John he let go. He couldn’t believe his own eyes in the Hollow.

“Henry’s in a bad way. He’s manic.” John said once Sherlock sat down next to him. “Totally convinced there’s some mutant super-dog roaming the moors. And there isn’t, though, is there? If people knew how to make a mutant super-dog, we’d know. It’d be for sale. I mean, that’s how it works. Listen, on the moor I saw someone signaling, Morse. I guess it’s Morse. It doesn’t seem to make much sense. U,M,Q,R,A, does that mean anything? So, okay, what have we got?”

Sherlock took in a deep breath, his hands folded under his chin as he did. Sherlock said nothing so John continued to talk.

“We know there’s footprints, because Henry found them, so did the tour guide bloke. We all heard something. Maybe we should just look for whoever has got a big dog.” John offered.

“Henry’s right.” Sherlock said suddenly.

“What?” John asked confused.

“I saw it, too.” Sherlock said with shaking breath.

“What?” John asked again, thinking he was joking.

“I saw it too, John.” He said once more.

“Just… Just a minute, you saw what?” John asked, skeptical.

“A hound. Out there in the Hollow. A gigantic hound.” Sherlock said, shaking, as if he was having another psychotic break.

“Um, look, Sherlock. We have to be rational about this.” John smiled, thinking Sherlock was crazy. “Okay, now you, of all people, can’t just… Let’s just stick to what we know, yes? Stick to the facts.”

“Once you’ve ruled out the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be true.” Sherlock said quietly.

“What does that mean?” John asked, shaking his head. Sherlock picked up his glass of whiskey, his hand shaking.

“Look at me, I’m afraid John.” Sherlock laughed at himself. “Afraid.”

Sherlock took another sip of his drink.

“I’ve always been able to keep myself distant. Divorce myself from feelings. But look, you see, body’s betraying me. Interesting, yes, emotions. The grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment.” Sherlock said, clearly Henry wasn’t the only one who was manic.

“Yeah, alright, Spock just… Take it easy.” John said, looking around the pub to make sure no one else would see Sherlock like this. “You’ve been pretty wired lately, you know you have. I think you’ve just gone out there and got yourself a bit worked up.”

“Worked up?” Sherlock asked rudely.

“It was dark and scary…” John began, feeling like the only sensible adult in the room.

“Me? There’s nothing wrong with me.” Sherlock argued. He began breathing deeply, he places his fingers on his temples.

“Sherlock.”  John began, shaking his head, looking around once more. “Sherl…”

“There is nothing wrong with me! Do you understand?” Sherlock yelled. Everyone in the pub now had their eyes on him. “You want me to prove it, yes?”

John kept his head down with an angry look on his face.

“We’re looking for a dog, yes? A great big dog, that’s your brilliant theory. Cherchez le chien!” Sherlock began speaking fast. Look for the dog. “Good. Excellent. Yes. where shall we start? How about them? The sentimental widow and her son, the unemployed fisherman.”

Sherlock pointed to the two seated at a table against the wall.

“The answer’s yes.” Sherlock said rudely.

“Yes?” John asked, confused because no question was asked.

“She’s got a West Highland Terrier named Whisky, not exactly what we’re looking for!” Sherlock wailed.

“Sherlock, for God’s sake!” John scolded.

“Look at the jumper he’s wearing, hardly worn. Clearly he’s uncomfortable in it. Maybe because of the material or more likely the hideous pattern, suggests it’s a present, probably Christmas. So, he wants into his mother’s good books. Why? Almost certainly money. He’s treating her to a meal but his own portion is small. That means he want to impress her but he’s trying to economise on his own food.” Sherlock said.

“Maybe he’s just not hungry.” John argued.

“No, small plate, starter. He’s practically licked it clean. She’s nearly finished her pavlova. If she’d treated him, he’d have had as much as he wanted. He’s hungry and not well-off, you can tell by his cuffs and shoes. ‘How do you know she’s his mother?’ Who else would give him a Christmas present like that. I suppose it could be an aunt or older sister, but mother’s more likely. He was a fisherman, the scarring pattern on the back of his hands is distinctive. Fish hooks. They’re quite old now, suggesting he’s been unemployed for some time. Not much industry in this part of the world, so he’s turned to his widowed mother for help. ‘Widowed?” Yes, obviously. She’s got a man’s wedding ring on a chain around her neck, clearly her late husband’s and too big for her finger. She’s well-dressed, but her jewellery is cheap. She could afford better, but she’s kept it, sentimental. Now the dog. There are tiny hairs all over her leg, from where it gets a little bit too friendly, but none above the knees, suggesting it’s a small dog, probably a terrier. In fact it is, West Highland Terrier, called Whisky. ‘How the hell do you know that Sherlock?’ She was on the same train as us and I heard her call its name. And that’s not cheating. That’s listening. I use my senses John, unlike some people, so you see, I am fine. In fact, I’ve never been better, so just leave me alone!” Sherlock whisper yelled.

“Yeah, okay. Okay.” John said, clearing his throat. He knew there was something wrong with Sherlock. “But, why would you listen to me? I’m just your friend.” John sighed.

“I don’t have friends.” Sherlock said the word as if it disgusted him.

“No. I wonder why?” John said sarcastically, standing to leave. He went out the back of the pub and saw the same flashing light that he did earlier in the night. He thought it strange and decided to see where it was coming from.

After John discovered the light to be from a shaking parked car, he turned back, embarrassed. On his walk back to the pub, Sherlock texted him saying that Henry’s therapist was in the pub and he wanted him to interview her. John didn’t know why he should, to that Sherlock sent a picture of Dr. Mortimer, a beautiful biracial woman with long hair. John smirked and shook his head, on his way back to the pub.

An hour later, John was sitting in the pub, drinking with Dr. Mortimer.

“More wine, doctor?” John asked her smiling.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, doctor?” She replied laughing.

“Thought never occurred.” John flirted.

“Because a while ago I thought you were chatting me up.” She smiled.

“Oh! Where did I go wrong?” John asked, fake offended.

“When you started asking me about my patients.” She said, taking a sip of her wine.

“Well you see, I am one of Henry’s oldest friends.” John lied.

“Yeah, and he’s one of my patients, so I can’t talk about him. Although he has told me about all his oldest friends. Which one are you?” She asked.

“A new one?” He joked. “Okay, what about his father? He wasn’t one of your patients. Wasn’t be some kind of conspiracy nutter… theorist?” John said, correcting himself.

“You’re only a nutter if you’re wrong.” She said.

“Hm, and was he wrong?” John asked.

“I should think so.” She laughed.

“But he got fixated on Baskerville, didn’t he? With what they were doing in there. Couldn’t Henry have gone the same way, started imaging a hound?” John asked, wanting her to join in.

“Why do you think I’m going to talk about this?” She asked, laughing. John laughed too.

“Because I think you’re worried about him and because I’m a doctor too. And because I have another friend who might be having the same problem.” John said. Louise Mortimer sighed, she was about to talk when Dr. Frankland suddenly appeared, slapping John on the shoulder.

“Dr. Watson!” He smiled.

“Hi.” John said awkwardly, knowing Louise would never talk now.

“Hello.” Frankland said cheerfully to Dr. Mortimer.

“How’s the investigation going?” He asked John.

“What, investigation?” Louise asked John smiling.

“Didn’t you know? Don’t you read the blog? Sherlock Holmes, Sergeant Y/N Gregson.” Frankland said.

“Sherlock who?” Louise asked confused.

“Private detective, this is his PA.” Frankland said.

“PA?” John asked.

“Well, live in PA.” Frankland said, not sure what he was trying to insinuate there.

“Perfect!” John sighed sarcastically.

“This is Dr. Mortimer, Henry’s therapist.” John introduced.

“John.” You called, now appearing behind John.

“Ah speak of the devil.” Dr. Frankland smiled.

“Are you Sherlock?” Dr. Mortimer asked you.

“Oh no, thank God.” You smiled.

“This is Sherlock’s girlfriend, Sergeant Gregson.” Dr. Frankland said, you smiled to the woman who seemed relieved. She must have assumed, like many do, that Sherlock and John are gay.

“Listen, tell Sherlock I’ve been keeping an eye on Stapleton. Anytime he wants a little chat. Alright?” Dr. Frankland said to you.

“That would be great if I could find him. “ You said, that was the real reason you came out.

“He went back to the room I thought.” John said.

“No, he never did.” you said, and John sighed, he felt as if he was a babysitter.

Um,” said John. “I was fired. No thanks to you.” John hurried past Sherlock and twitched the covers into place on his rumpled bed. And wondered why he didn’t tell Sherlock to leave.

“Fired?” echoed Sherlock, sounding confused. “For what?”

“For running off after you and Brian and leaving Santa’s Grotto completely unattended,” snapped John, losing his temper a little bit at Sherlock’s apparent cluelessness over how employment worked.

Sherlock regarded him for a long moment, pale eyes curious. And then he ventured, cautiously, “You know that there’s no Santa Claus, right, John?”

John rolled his eyes and said, “Oh, my God, what are you doing here?”

“I was just checking,” said Sherlock, affronted. “It’s just that everyone seems obsessed with making sure Brian the would-be grand larcenist was hearing terrified children ask for things their parents prompted them to ask for. Everyone goes utterly mad at Christmastime, it’s horrible.”

“Mm-hmm,” said John, noncommittally, because he wasn’t interested. “How did you even get hired to be an elf with an attitude like that? Oh, wait, you weren’t hired, because now my ex-boss thinks I have mental issues because I was babbling about a tall elf named Jangle. And you are much too tall to be an elf, you know.”

Sherlock’s eyebrows raced upwards, toward the curls falling poetically over his alabaster forehead like he was a bloody Romantic poet. “That’s your issue with my being an elf? That I’m too tall?

CAM's Taunting of John Watson In Appledore and What I Believe That Reveals About Mary.

Okay so this is my first scene analysis (if that’s even what this is called) so bare with me if my thoughts are a bit jumbled.

What I’m going to be talking about and picking apart is the scene towards the end of His Last Vow, when Sherlock and John are in Appledore and Charles Augustus Magnussen is telling John how bad Mary is and why I believe that shows that Mary hasn’t exactly killed bad people.

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