sherlocks face in the last one though

“Sherlock?”

The voice comes, rough and uncertain, from somewhere down the hall; Sherlock looks up from the microscope instantly and cranes his neck to see John standing just out of the reach of the light, still in shadow. He’d gone to bed nearly two–no, three–hours ago and should be fast asleep, not standing tentatively just where Sherlock can’t see his face. Nightmare, probably.

“John?” he answers, sliding off the stool and coming around the table. John takes a step back and Sherlock stops, steadying himself with one hand on the worktop. “You okay?”

John hesitates, his left hand clenching and unclenching ever so slowly by his side. The collar of his t-shirt is misshapen where it’s been pulled away from his neck. When he speaks, his voice is deliberate. “Are you coming to bed?”

“Yeah,” Sherlock nods, and then, because John is trying to hide behind some semblance of normality and Sherlock doesn’t want to crowd him just yet, he adds, “Yeah, just let me finish up here, I won’t be long. Another five minutes.”

There’s another long pause but eventually John says, “Yeah, okay.” He doesn’t turn around, though. He doesn’t go back to bed. He lingers in the hall and watches Sherlock take one more look through the microscope lens and make a notation–it says experiment abandoned (J)–and then do a cursory tidy-up before locking up the doors and turning off the lights. 

Finally Sherlock switches off the last light in the flat, leaving everything cloaked and shadowed, and then John is in his arms, coming forward in the safety of the darkness to push his face into Sherlock’s neck and wrap himself around him. His cheek against Sherlock’s skin is damp and overwarm. There’d been tears, then. 

“All right?” Sherlock asks quietly. He rubs John’s back, firm but gentle, reminding him of the boundaries of his body, revealing the edges of reality under the blurry film of dreaming. 

John shakes his head. “No,” he says, hoarse with honesty, settling himself along the lines of Sherlock’s body, giving over his tension, giving in to his exhaustion in the shelter of Sherlock’s arms. He gives the tiniest sigh of relief. “But I will be. I will be.”

“I’ll be here,” Sherlock promises, and he cradles the back of John’s head and closes his eyes. He’ll stand here until John’s feet get cold and then take him to bed, and he’ll hold him there until he falls asleep, and in the morning they might not yet be all right, but they will be. They’re working toward it. They’re trying, together, and that’s enough. 

It’s not an answer, and it’s not a solution, but it’s enough. It’s hope, and for tonight, it’s enough.

johnlock-is-the-new-sexy  asked:

I want to know YOUR interpretation and explanation about John touching Sherlock's knee and saying "I don't mind", and Sherlock answering "Anytime". I'm freaking out!!!!!!

ASDFSDFA .

IT’S GAY. THAT’S THE EXPLANATION. THERE IS NOT ANY PLATONIC REASON FOR THAT SCENE. 

Okay, maybe it’s a biased view, but this entire stag night scene is what twigged at my brain in my pre-Johnlock life that… something was amiss.

Other people have expounded greatly on this scene, and my thoughts follow pretty much the same as other TJLCers (I’ve written about something similar Pre-S4).

John was attempting to hit on Sherlock, and “pretended to fall forward”, grabbed at Sherlock’s knee and Tessa and Hudders cockblocked him. The sad thing is that I think Sherlock was TOO drunk to understand what was happening, so when Sherlock didn’t mention the moment after the case, John saw it as rejection and ended up marrying Mary because he thought maybe Sherlock really WASN’T trying to hit on him. This move was his “last chance” to see if Sherlock WAS interested in him, especially with the mixed signals he’s been giving John since his return.

Sherlock realized too late that John was hitting on him, and he’s been kicking himself ever since. I personally think he’s been trying to clue John in (even though I think John figured it out on the Tarmac [here too] [here too]), and in TAB Sherlock realized he has to be the one to confess his feelings. IF S4 is to be taken at face value, then Sherlock is waiting until John is ready to move on, which is what TFP left us in.

But given I don’t think a lick of S4 EXCEPT for the first few minutes of T6T are real, and that TFP is John’s TAB, I think that in that episode, John was finally ready to take whatever Sherlock was going to offer him.

I just want them to be happy and together. 

I wanted to write a little post about what would happen if Molly and Sherlock adopted a cat together, and it accidentally turned into this. Enjoy!


 Toby the cat passes away peacefully at the age of 14. Molly is the one who finds him, curled up comfortably in Sherlock’s chair – neither of them are particularly surprised, given his age, but they mourn him as anyone would mourn a lost family member. His ashes are placed in a bright yellow urn on the windowsill, his favourite spot to sit and watch the people in the street, with a photo of the three of them taken by Mrs Hudson the previous Christmas.

Keep reading

Blue

A tiny ficlet for Sunday, based in the Bliss universe. Enjoy!


Sherlock scowls at his best friend. “But I have all of those things, Watson,” he points out tartly, tugging at his cufflinks. “So kindly stop fretting and help me get dressed.”

And he turns back to his reflection, frowning and turning this way and that. Watson, being far too familiar with that tone- and with Sherlock’s general honesty- to believe him shakes his head and crosses his arms.

“So you have everything you need, do you?” He cocks an eyebrow at his friend. “Explain, please.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “Something old: the esteem in which I hold the institute of marriage. Something new: My newfound willingness to act on my feelings for Molly and be wed. Something borrowed: Mycroft’ s townhouse in Paris, where we will honeymoon together and hopefully find the sort of happiness from which lasting marriages are built. And something blue…”

Unexpectedly he trails off, looking uncomfortable.

To Watson’s surprise, his cheeks start to heat.

“Something blue?” the doctor prompts, and the blush worsens, Sherlock shifting from foot to foot. For a moment he’s that tall, gangly, awkward young man John met so long ago, but then-

With an overly dramatic sigh Holmes reaches into his pocket. Takes out a small velvet pouch and empties the contents into John’s palm. As Watson watches he pops the object- a tiny golden locket- open. Shows it to his friend. Within John can make out a lovingly rendered portrait of Molly Hooper in one side and a small, dried flower on the other.

The flower looks rather like… It looks like a forget-me-not.

“Molly was wearing this the first night I met her,” Sherlock says quietly. “I thought… I thought it would do for the something blue.” He looks at his friend, suddenly worried. “You don’t… You don’t think it mawkish or foolish, do you? You don’t think she will?”

And he looks back to his reflection, worried in spit of himself. His hands twist together, but he doesn’t manage to tie his cravat. For a moment John is tempted to tease him but when he looks at his friend’s expression, he finds he hasn’t the heart to. Rather he bats Sherlock’s hands briskly away, ties his cravat into a double Windsor and then places the locket in his breast pocket, where Sherlock’s sure not to lose it.

He can’t help the smile on his face as he does so.

“I think Molly Hooper is a very lucky woman,” he tells his best friend, and with those words he and Sherlock nod to one another in the mirror, some of the tension leaving the detective. They hear a knock on the door- it’s Mycroft- and then the sound of the church organ’s swell. With another nod he and Sherlock walk out, the detective’s head held high though his cheeks are still pinkish-

His nerves last as long as it takes him to spot his little Molly and after that, it seems to John that there’s nobody else in the room for Sherlock but she.

Drugs and Dont's - Part 1, by toocoolformuggles

As soon as John left, Mycroft stepped into Sherlock’s room, his thin lips pressed, forming a prefect line in his pale face. He didn’t looked angry, like John, but concerned. Yes, concerned. About what, though? It wasn’t like that was the first time Sherlock was hospitalized because of an overdose; Mycroft himself had dragged Sherlock into several hospitals during the last twenty years of their lives. 

“You involved a civilian, Sherlock”, Mycroft said, guessing his brother’s thoughts. 

“Excuse me?”, Sherlock mumbled, confused. 

“You passed out at Irene Adler’s house. You involved her into your little opium-filled adventure.” 

Of all things that could bother Mycroft, Sherlock never thought that involving Irene into his… “adventures” would be one. But there was the evidence: the eldest Holmes had his hands on his hips, but they were closed in tight fists; his legs were slightly parted; his shoulders were tense; and his teeth were clenched. Mycroft was displeased. 

“So, what?”, Sherlock asked, taking shelter behind the sheets. He somehow knew his brother was seconds away from beating the fuck out of him, and the fact that Sherlock was hospitalized wouldn’t stop him. 

“So, what?!”, Mycroft repeated, rising his hands abobe his shoulders. “We have a deal, Sherlock! I let you do whatever you want to do, I don’t tell mummy and dad about your addiction, and in exchange you don’t drag other people into your psychedelic world!”. Mycroft’s breathing was heavy. 

They had made that pact ages ago, and Sherlock had made honor it, knowing that the path he had chosen wasn’t the best one. He know he couldn’t drag other people with him, no matter how good it felt. And not only that: he neither could go to other people looking for shelter when he was deep into his misery. 

That was the deal: don’t offer drugs to others and don’t make others feel bad or responsible for you. 

With John, he had managed to draw a line, mostly because life with him was often an adventure, and he didn’t need to be that high to endure the everyday life; he had never really hit bottom while they lived together. But lately, Sherlock hadn’t been feeling good. There were few cases and his flat felt very empty since Irene moved out. 

“I didn’t mean to involve her”, Sherlock admitted, his eyes fixed in the white sheets. “One second I was at my place, and the next I woke up here. I don’t know how or why I went to her place. After how things ended between us… I don’t know why I went there. I wish I hadn’t.” 

                        

Miss Hudson’s face showed a big relieve when she opened her house’s front door and found John in the entrance. The dramatic way in which, only fifteen minutes ago, Irene had slammed the door violently as she opened it and rushed upstairs, mumbling something about hospitals and vomit, had lead Miss Hudson into believe that something bad had happened to John or Sherlock, or both. Seeing that at least John was fine calmed her nerves. 

“John!”, she exclaimed, “Happened? Are you ok? Where is Sherlock?” 

“Is Irene here?” John asked, ignoring Miss Hudson’s questions. 

“Yes. She’s upstairs. She looked so emotional when she arrived…” 

“Thanks, Miss Hudson.” And John rushed upstairs, climbing the steps two at a time like he had made uncountable times before. 

His old apartment was a complete chaos. The floor was covered with books, clothes, newspapers, even cigarettes and a big spot of what looked like a dried blood… or red wine. John prayed it was red wine. In the coffee table in front of the couch, there were a series of objects that should belong into a hospital or laboratory: a Bunsen burner, several syringes, a packet of blue pills, another packet, filled with dry leaves, a jar full of something he couldn’t nor wanted to identify. John cursed under his breath: why did Sherlock had to be so extra? Why couldn’t he settle for weed like any common adult? 

Any other day, John would gladly take some time to throw all of Sherlock’s drug-related-nicknacks away, but right now he had more urgent things to do. For example, there was a strange noise coming from Sherlock’s room, it sounded like if someone was laughing hysterically while they ripped Sherlock’s closet apart. 

It turned to be Irene, crying disconsolately as she tried to gather some of Sherlock’s clothes. 

In all of his years of dating —and it had been a lot of years—, John never learned what to do when a woman started to cry. Should he hug her? Should he whisper supporting-yet-cliché phrases into her ear? Should he vanish in smoke? Since this woman wasn’t dating him, he counted with the advantage that he was sure she wasn’t crying for something he had say or done… But she was crying for something his’ best mate had done, and that wasn’t much better. 

He decided to place a hand on her shoulder. Nothing invasive, not too distant: a supportive, friendly offer. 

“Remove your hand or I will rip your arm off and beat you to death with it.” 

His sister was right: he knew nothing about women. 

“It’s me”, he said, withdrawing his hand. 

Irene looked at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were wet. She apologized as she straightened her back and turned to face John. 

“Long time no see, John. How’s Rosie?” 

“She’s good, thanks. Sorry that I never called so you could see her, I know you like children. It’s that Sherlock has been hanging with us a lot lately, and, you know…” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

This didn’t turn out as angsty as I wanted it to. I needed more words!! 

Next writer is @fireloom

The Skill of Deduction

Sherlock: You shouldn’t have come Molly. *turns to John* She shouldn’t have come.

Molly: *frowns*

John: Sherlock, *sternly* we need her help identifying the killer. Unless you acquired a doctorate in medicine last night, we need her here.

Sherlock: *grumbling to himself* It’s too dangerous for her to be here.

John: *baffled* It’s a carnival Sherlock, not a criminal’s house or a dodgy side alley.

Sherlock: Fine, John. Whatever you say. You are the expert observer… oh wait, that’s me.

Molly: *awkwardly between the two* I can go if you’d like. I mean, you two are probably qualified to spot the correct limp in the suspect’s gait due to the injury sustained while killing the victim.

Sherlock: Yes, we would like that.

John: Enough Sherlock! *turns to Molly* You are still the most qualified specialist to deal with this though, so don’t listen to that git over there. Please stay and help. If we don’t spot the guy in the next ten minutes, we can leave. I too am not a fan of clowns, loud noises, or screaming children.

Molly: Okay.

Sherlock: Fine.

John: Great! *clasps hands together* Let’s get looking then.

Keep reading

[Stop. Before you even scroll down any further to read this post, please read this. I’m writing this list for 3 reasons, 

  1. Someone asked me recently why I ship Johnlock
  2. There’s been a lot of crap going round with people, not everyone, just certain individuals saying Johnlock isn’t going to happen, how its hurtful, disgusting blah blah blah. (If you don’t think it is, brilliant. But don’t slag the shippers off, please. I know again, certain individuals aren't kind about certain ships but it’s not all of us). And then..
  3. Because I purely want to.

I don’t mind what you ship. I ship Johnlock, obviously. If you ship Sheriarty or Sherlolly or whoever and whatever else. Well done. I don’t mind. This isn’t something I want hate on or want to be accused of hating other ships. I know there’s other ships out there and I’ve tried to leave out as many points as I can that will go against other ships and people may find offensive. This is a Johnlock blog, so I shall write about Johnlock. Take this as seriously as you want. Some of the points are very vague. This took me a while so, yeah, I hope you enjoy and thank you!]

100 Things that make Johnlock believable

  1. John lends Sherlock his phone. This isn’t really a big deal I know but I wouldn’t even let my friends borrow my phone let alone some random stranger I’d never even spoken to.
  2. They have undeniable chemistry. You can’t deny that, whoever you ship. 
  3. This isn’t really a reason why Johnlock is believable it’s more a reason why people ship it. People are scared. If someone else comes into the Sherlock/John equation, (Molly, Moriarty even Mycroft), will it affect the duo? The flow of them both. Maybe. That’s what I think anyway.
  4. Sherlock can’t handle John’s girlfriends. Yes, he’s coping with Mary (sort of) (okay, lets miss out the bit where she shot him) but he’s jealous of her. All of the time.
  5. Sherlock didn’t have friends. Not one. John had barely known him a day and he was running around London with him. They have an instant connection.
  6. John killed someone for Sherlock.
  7.  Sherlock killed someone for John.
  8. They stare at each other. Constantly. 
  9.  Sherlock never denies him and John being a couple.
  10. John can manage to remember 30+ moans coming from Sherlock’s phone throughout the day. I can barely remember what I did 5 minutes ago.. 
  11. “People might talk”. That’s John’s only issue. ‘So what if you just stripped some of my clothes off. I only care that people didn’t see’. Maybe he didn’t mind it at all then, because no one saw. 
  12. Sherlock is back on drugs after John leaves him to go on his honeymoon, basically has withdrawal symptoms. John replaced the drugs, but then he left again.
  13. Sherlock is incredibly sad at the wedding. John choosing Mary to dance with him over Sherlock seems to push him over the edge and make him leave.
  14.  John is the only man to render Sherlock speechless.
  15.  Sherlock taught John how to dance. That’s not really a reason but it’s incredibly intimate.
  16.  Mark said the BBC version is mostly inspired by The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes. In which Sherlock basically falls in love with John (incredibly cute, watch it). It’s probably one of the gayest adaptations.
  17.  Irene likes women, but she admits she fell for Sherlock. John is the same, which is basically what she’s saying.
    (John: “Who the hell knows about Sherlock Holmes, but if anyone out there still cares, I’m not actually gay”. 
    Irene: “Well, I am. Look at us both”).
  18.  Sherlock takes him to a gay club. He notices things. Surely he’d notice that. 
  19.  The drunk scene is so flirtatious it hurts.
  20.  "I don’t mind".
  21.  Sherlock came back to life for John. Came back from the dead. From. The. Dead.
  22.  The scenes in Sherlock’s mind palace are the places he and John had their first case together. Sentiment, obviously.
  23. They say you look for one of your parents in the person you fall in love with. Well Sherlock’s parents basically cosplayed them. 
  24.  "You. It’s always you. John Watson, you keep me right.“
  25.  When Sherlock’s solving cases with Molly, John’s voice is there, in his head. Always.
  26.  Sherlock stuck John’s head on a picture of the Vitruvian Man, which was Leonardo Da Vinci's representation of an 'ideal man’. 
  27.  "Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator”. That’s why Sherlock shoots Magnussen for John. (I know I already mentioned this but I found a cool quote okay). 
  28.  Can’t believe I nearly missed the cheeky wink when they first met.
  29.  The moment at Angelo’s when Sherlock thinks John is hitting on him. Sherlock doesn’t get things wrong. 99% of the time he’s right. So when he thinks someone is flirting with him, he’s probably right.
  30.  John definitely takes a peek when Sherlock drops his sheet at Buckingham Palace. 
  31.  The hug at the wedding. We’ve never seen them hug before so it’s kind of a new step for their relationship.
  32.  At the pool Sherlock gives John a glance and John nods, knowing exactly what he’s thinking.
  33.  John makes him beg. Twice.
  34.  John forgives him. His best friend left him for 2 years, pretending he was dead and John forgave him like that. You’ve gotta love someone pretty bad to do that. (Even if he did tackle him to the floor.. and punch him.. though he did deserve it).
  35.  On the tube, in John’s last moments, he spends it telling Sherlock how much of a great man he is. 
  36. 'Not gay’ doesn’t imply he’s straight.
  37.  John was willing to get shot to take down Moriarty, telling Sherlock to run and save his own life. 
  38.  My best friend doesn’t point out my cheekbones.
  39.  The best man speech. Nobody could even imagine Sherlock saying anything like that but he said it all, for John. 
  40.  "Is yours a snorer?“. John kinda just gives up denying they’re a couple here.
  41.  John says he doesn’t like his middle name, though he exclaims it when he’s jealous over Irene and Sherlock. 
  42.  Sherlock says to Irene: "Why would I want to have dinner if I wasn't hungry?”, yet he does that an awful lot with John. 
  43.  Their lack of personal space is unbelievable.
  44.  John looks to see if Sherlock is wearing pants at Buckingham Palace under the sheet. Looks. At his crotch.
  45.  The look across the car park when Sherlock realises John shot the cabbie. 
  46.  Sherlock gets rid of John’s armchair, presumably because he doesn’t like seeing it empty.
  47.  Mrs Hudson had it from day 1: “There’s another bedroom upstairs if you'll be needing two bedrooms”.
  48.  “You're hardly going to need me around now you’ve got a real baby on the way”. Cries.
  49.  "Remember Redbeard? Don't get involved”, e.g. Remember the last time you loved and then lost.
  50. Sherlock acts more like the bride at the wedding then Mary actually does: 

    A) The photographer says, “just the bride and groom, please”, and he doesn’t even move.

    B) He’s the only person we see giving vows.

    C) He throws his flower to Janine (just like the bride would traditionally throw her bouquet).

    D) He taught John how to dance, which actual is quite a feminine role too.

  51. John looks extremely unimpressed that Sherlock has a girlfriend.
  52. Mary sort of acts like a romantic shield, as John in the third series seems more open to discuss relationships and his feelings, even about gay matters, for example when being searched by one of Magnussen’s men, he makes an innuendo joke.
  53. . “I don't understand, why would it upset YOU?”, because he cares Sherlock, duhh.
  54.  The determination Sherlock has to get John out of the fire, yes I know, this one could be seen as just a friend helping a friend but the panic on Sherlock’s face and the way he had no fear of burn marks or anything. 
  55.  In His Last Vow, John wakes up from dreaming about Sherlock, even though he was laying next to his wife.
  56.  I know I’ve already mentioned Sherlock shooting Magnussen but he does sacrifice his career, freedom and life to protect John.
  57.  Sue said to, "treat the music like a script in itself”, e.g. they play 'We Found Love’ in the background of the stag scene.
  58.  When Sherlock shakes John’s hand goodbye, he takes his glove off to touch his skin one last time.
  59.  "Since it’s unlikely we’ll ever meet again I might as well say it now…", I really don’t think that, “Sherlock is actually a girl’s name”, is what he was going to say. 
  60.  That scene (in point 60) was quite obviously set up to make us think Sherlock was actually going to declare his love. So it could happen.
  61.  The tears in Sherlock’s eyes when he’s on the plane, leaving John. 
  62.  Sherlock says the case (when they’re drunk) is 'touching’. He describes a case including same sex romance as 'touching’. That’s surely saying something. Sherlock doesn’t find many things touching..
  63.  Molly mentions having met Tom’s parents. Shortly after John meets Sherlock’s, however, he hasn’t (I know, it’s impossible, but still, my point) meet Mary’s. 
  64.  Sherlock says, “All the nice girls like a soldier”, to which John replies, “it’s sailor”. Did Sherlock slip up there on purpose because he likes a soldier???
  65. “I want to be up there with the two people that I love and care about most in the world. Mary Morstan, and… you”. Ouch. The feels. 
  66.  "Today you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved, in short the two people who love you most in all this world", and now Sherlock hits me right in the feels too.
  67.  While we see Sherlock telling everyone how much he loves and cares for John, it’s interesting in the fact they don’t bother showing the ceremony between John and Mary. Not even a glimpse. 
  68.  John talks about Major Sholto in a way in which a lot of fans implied they used to have something going on. I think Sherlock thought this too as he seems jealous. 
  69.  "Oh, Sherlock! Neither of us were the first, you know". Even Mary can see he’s jealous.
  70.  John calls Sherlock, “nurse”. Mary is a nurse so can be seen as a parallel? 
  71.  The only two people we see John perform medically on is the man naked from the waist down at the clinic and Bainbridge, who’s naked from the shower. Two naked men. Coincidence? Hmm. 
  72.  An 'Elephant in the Room’ actually means, an obvious fact that nobody is pointing out. It’s mostly said when talking about someone’s sexuality, for example homosexual attraction. One of their cases is called 'The Elephant in the Room’.
  73.  In His Last Vow, in the scene where Sherlock brings Mary to the house and John is secretly there when Sherlock makes Mary identify herself, there is a shot taken from above. It clearly shows Sherlock at one end of the corridor and John at the other, Mary coming in between them.
  74.  Sherlock says, “I was waiting until we got married”, so obviously avoiding sex with Janine as marriage was never going to happen. Or maybe not avoiding sex with Janine, more the fact he didn’t want to have sex with a woman?
  75.  "I’d be lost without my blogger". Uses 'my’, basically labelling John as his own. 
  76.  John went out with many women, but only married one of them (Mary) when Sherlock was dead. Maybe if Sherlock was alive and hadn’t approved, like he did with John’s other girlfriends, the proposal may not have happened.
  77.  Before they met, John was a broken war hero and Sherlock was lonely and isolated. After they met, they both seemed to cure each other. They both became happy, especially being around each other.
  78.  If I had human body parts in my fridge, I’d have to love the person quite a lot who put them there to let them stay in my house.
  79.  Moffat said that John is, “infatuated and fascinated” by Sherlock. Sexually? Well, that’s your judgement I guess.
  80.  When John breaks up with Jeanette his (sexual, most probably) partner, he barely batters an eyelid, yet when Sherlock leaves, he’s affected, massively. (Okay it’s kinda different because Sherlock 'died’ but I’m promising you 100 reasons and I’m at 98 haha)
  81.  John had to trust Sherlock with his life, many times. He did it without even hesitating.
  82.  Sherlock healed John’s leg. Basically.
  83.  Not really a point but, 99% of the things done in Sherlock are on purpose. You don’t do things by accident on TV and they keep them in. The stares, the touches, the facial expressions. They are all there for a reason.
  84.  The stars scene. Where Sherlock points out the stars in The Great Game. I find that awfully romantic. 
  85.  Sherlock drugs him. It’s an awful thing to do but John practically, instantly, forgives him. 
  86.  At the end of The Hounds of Baskerville when Sherlock is laughing with John when John is eating, that look the innkeeper person gives Sherlock. It’s like a sort of knowing look.
  87.  "I asked you for one more miracle. I asked you to stop being dead”. Sherlock’s reply to that is the most sincere, kind and heartwarming way I swear we have ever heard him spoke (not including when he lies to victims haha) when he says, “I heard you”. You can hear how much he cares in just those 3 words.
  88.  Sherlock remembers how John takes his tea. John’s tea habits are more important then that the earth goes round the sun.
  89.  In Reichenbach, John punches a police officer just because they say something bad about Sherlock.
  90.  Sherlock says, “Alone is what I have, alone protects me”, but I think he soon realises he does in fact need John by his side, that’s why he goes back to the drugs.
  91.  Sherlock jumped off the roof to save John’s life. If he had came away from that situation alive, John would have been shot, as well as Mrs Hudson and Lestrade. But he had to sacrifice himself for the people he cares most about.
  92.  So this isn’t in the series but on John’s blog so it does count. Sherlock writes, 'John would ask me if he was here’. Another sign he needs John with him. 
  93.  John shaved his moustache off purely because Sherlock said it didn’t suit him.
  94.  "Girlfriend? No, not really my area". “So you’ve got a boyfriend then?”. “No”. So a girlfriend is off the list completely, not his area, but when asked if he has a boyfriend the answer is a straight, 'no’. (Sorry to anyone who ships Sherlock with Molly/Irene/Janine, etc, I guess he could have changed his mind).
  95.  I prefer my Doctor’s clean shaven. Pretty flirtatious. 
  96.  The picture taken of the drunk scene. It’s an official promo picture and they’re holding hands. Yes, they’re 'drunk’ but they are, in fact, holding hands.
  97.  Sherlock see’s Mary shooting him in her wedding dress. Some kind of metaphor, surely?
  98.  Everyone. Absolutely everyone assumes they’re together. Mycroft, Mrs Hudson, Kitty Reilly, Angelo, etc.
  99.  Sherlock outs Mary in front of John because I think he’s concerned for John. I think he’s scared John might get hurt so he manages to get Mary to admit who she is when John is present.
  100. In The Hounds of Baskerville when John goes all military, Sherlock’s face is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.

Thank you!

Never leave us again (Sherlock)

Paring: Sherlock/Reader

Characters: John Watson, Mrs. Hudson, Sophia Holmes

Language: English

Words: 2 378

Summary: Having to deal with raising yours and Sherlocks daughter after him passing away. Or at least you thought he passed away.

London is known for his rainy weather and today wasn’t much different from the others. Little drops of rain were streaming down the living room window for past couple of hours and my mood has been on the bottom of the ocean ever since. This time looking out of the exact same window to the streets of London wasn’t helping me like it usually does. I hate when I feel this depressed and melancholic all of the sudden like two years of grieving weren’t enough time to get though broken heart. People say that first weeks are the worst but I disagree. Every day is getting worse and worse and the pain is yet to fade away. I lost my father when I was just a little girl and his passing away was extremely painful but when I lost the love of my life I honestly thought that a little part of me died with him in the same moment. Losing Sherlock wasn’t just about losing the only man I have ever loved but it was also about losing my hope and I as well.

I don’t know how long I have been sitting in my chair with just a cup of tea that was cold anyway until someone knocked on my door. First I don’t want to open because I don’t feel visits right now but I stand up anyway. Getting to the door takes me just couple of seconds. A little smile flashes across my face as I see one of the last friends I have left.

“John,” I whisper as I take him in a tight hug, “I haven’t seen you in ages. How’s life been? Oh, please, feel free to come in,” I step aside from the door so he could walk in more easily.

“Sorry for not getting more in touch with you lately but you know…”

“Yeah I do,” I slightly smile at him while he’s looking around my place. Well it’s my place now but it wasn’t like that all the time.

“It feels so weird to be here again.”

“This place isn’t what it used to be with him around, John. It’s so empty ever though nothing changed really,” I sigh.

I sit back to my chair where as John sit on the couch across. There’s silence for a while. I don’t want to talk about Sherlock or anything to do with our same past and John just doesn’t seem to have any news. But one way or another it’s good to see him again. It’s refreshing to see another human being other than my reflection in the mirror or Mrs. Hudson.

“I talked to Mrs. Hudson,” he claims as I was just thinking of her. I raise an eyebrow at him in confusion. “When was the last time you had left this apartment?”

“Don’t start again, John. I swear we had conversation like this last time you were here.”

“We did indeed. But you can’t be here all day.”

“Why not? I have everything I need in here. When I run out of food I go get some but other than that I don’t necessarily need to be around other people, John,” I try to prove my point.

“What about Sophia?” He finally changes the subject.

“We’re good,” I say, “although she has said her first word yesterday.”

“That amazing, (Y/N),” he says with huge smile on his face. “She’s growing up so fast its crazy! Anyway… What did she say?”

My face turns numb. Everything from yesterday hits me like a huge cannonball. When I was with Sophia yesterday I didn’t expect her to say her first word. I mean she’s already year and few months old but still. I remember when she was born. It was the happiest yet saddest moment in my life. And yesterday is just reminder that we will never have what we wish for.

“Dad, she said dad.”

A smile disappears from Johns face and he breaks our eye contact. I can totally understand why he’s acting like this all of the sudden but I hate it still. We used to be really close and could talk about anything with each other but after Sherlock passing away there suddenly were things we could never speak about ever again. Just one bad word and whole conversation froze. And we are at that point yet again.

“I hate that we can’t talk to each other like we used to,” I say quietly but he hears it anyway. “It’s been two years already and things are still not how they used to be.”

“How could they be?” he asks rhetorically and I don’t answer. For one because I don’t want to and secondly I don’t even know if I could answer his question at all. “Is Sophia sleeping? It’s so quiet here.”

“Yeah,” I smile at him, “she’s been so sleepy today. I’ve put her to sleep at eleven and she’s been asleep ever since. It’s the weathers doing I think.”

“It’s been awhile since I last saw her,” he points out and I nod. “Do you think I could see her now?”

“Yeah, of course,” I answer with a smile, “I would in fact really appreciate if you could look after her for an hour or so? I was going to ask Mrs. Hudson but since you’re here already…” I don’t finish my sentence.

“Sure,” he agrees, “we need to catch up after all.”

“Thanks,” I stand up and go to the front door so I could put my coat and scarf on. As I’m buttoning my coat up, John reaches for my hand and catches my attention. “Yeah?”

“Don’t you think I don’t were you off to?” he asks. I nod. Of course he knows. “Say hello to him for me,” he begs.

“Will do,” I promise.

Maybe it’s not a very clever idea to leave my warn apartment for really rainy city but I have always loved rain anyway so I don’t really mind. My umbrella protects from the rain so I stay completely dry. I look one last time at 221B and then start walking. I walk for a bit and when I’m tired of walking I end up taking taxi. The driver takes me to my destination and as I pay for the ride I can see the graveyard. I end up walking on the wet stone path to the grave I’m so used to visiting. It’s so heartbreaking that no one really pays him a visit other than me, John and sometime even little Sophia if I decide to take her with me. His name written on the tombstone drives me into tears. Candle that I put to his grave doesn’t burn because of the rain.

“Sherlock,” I sob, “it’s been about a week since I was last here. I’m sorry for that. I know I’m usually here almost every other day but these past days weren’t easy at all. It’s Sophia. I sometimes talk to you about her, remember? Well, she started to look so much like you and I can’t handle it. She’s all I have left on this planet and I love her endlessly but sometimes I can’t even bear to look at her. I can’t look into her eyes because she has yours eyes, Sherlock,” I cry at this point. “I know I say this a lot but I really wish you were here with me at this moment. John once said to me that he had wished for you to stop being dead. It didn’t work out obviously but- I’m still going to try it myself. Sherlock, please, my love. Don’t. Be. Dead.”

I can feel a hand on my shoulder and I think that it’s John which would be quite surprising actually. But when I turn around to see this person I stop breathing for a while. No. That’s not possible is it? Man standing across me is the man I used to love and I still love to be honest. But he died two years ago.

“(Y/N),” he whispers my name.

“That’s not possible,” I shake my head in denial. “You’re dead.”

“I’m not, (Y/N),” he touches my shoulder. I look into his eyes for few seconds and my hearts stars beating really fast. “I never was.”

“How?” I whisper. Sherlock breaths in to answer my question but I don’t let him speak. “How could you pretend to be dead for two freaking years? You could have at least said two words, Sherlock! Two words and initials would have been enough for me.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve caused you this much pain,” he says with tears in his eyes. “I know you would have waited for me if you knew I was alive but all I’ve done was to protect you. To protect John as well and everyone I care about.”

“You bastard!” I scream at him. “You say that you’ve done this to protect us but you’ve only hurt us. John has been devastated and I’ve spent so many nights crying my eyes out.”

“(Y/N).”

“Why did you come back, Sherlock? Why after those two years?”

“To save London.”

“Of course! Of freaking course you did! You can’t live without your stupid job, can’t you? But guess what, Sherlock! Not everything revolves around you and not everyone will welcome you back,” I’m so mad at him at this point.

“Me saving London is also saving the people I love. I’m saving you.”

“Am I supposed to thank you for that? Okay then… thank you, Sherlock! How noble of you,” I say with my voice little up. I stop screaming at him at this point in time because it’s really disrespectful to scream where people rest after their passing. I turn my back to him. I want to leave.

“Wait, (Y/N),” he calls me by my name. “Please.”

“What?” I stop walking just for a second and out of curiosity.

“I just need to ask you one last thing before you go,” he explains and I nods. My face faces his even though I don’t want to look at him anymore. “You still love me, don’t you?”

“Sherlock, don’t-“

“I can feel it. Your heart’s beating way faster and you can barely stand straight. I know it because I feel the same way,” he whispers. He is good with words he’s always been. “I don’t understand one think though.”

I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Why did you move on?”

“Pardon me?”

“You moved on, (Y/N), don’t say you didn’t.”

“Sherlock, what are you talking about? I haven’t moved on,” I shake my head. Why do I feel like I should explain myself to him? “And I also don’t feel like I should try to prove anything to you.”

I leave him. He stays in front of his grave and I run away like a coward. It just that the fact he thinks I moved on hurts me so much. I still love him despite things he’d done. He lied to me, he left me thinking he was dead and I still love him. If this isn’t prove of true love than I don’t know what is. I open the door of my apartment in 221B and run in. I feel the urge to close quickly even though there’s no reason for it.

“(Y/N)? What’s wrong?” I hear Johns voice. He comes to me from my bedroom with Sophia in his hands. Just one look at her reminds me of Sherlock.

“It’s nothing, John,” I lie reaching for Sophia. As I take her in my hands I feel much safer. “Hi, baby, mommy’s back.”

“You don’t seem okay, (Y/N).”

“Okay, maybe I’m not then, John,” I cuddle Sophia closer to me. “I’m really not okay in matter of fact.”

“What happened then? You can tell me, (Y/N). You know you can.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if you’re ready to hear the truth, John,” I say looking into his eyes. “The truth can be sometimes heartbreaking.”

“I can handle it.”

I stay quiet for a while. “He’s not dead.”

“What?”

“He’s not dead. He never was, John. He lied to me; he lied to you as well.”

“Who did, (Y/N)?”

“Sherlock did,” I say with tears streaming down my face.

“What?” he’s shocked.

“I saw him. I spoke to him.”

“Are you on something?” he asks confusedly.

“Oh, I wish I was. I’m not though. I’m telling you! He’s alive! Sherlock never died.”

“Okay, calm down.”

“I can’t right now John,” I hand him Sophia and he takes her once again. “I have to go.”

“What?”

“I have to pack my things and leave this bloody apartment!”

“Why? You live here, (Y/N).”

“It never was mine to own, John. It’s Sherlock’s.”

“He’s dead!” he looks at me. “(Y/N), no. You can’t be serious. He can’t be…”

I want to say something but the doors open once more. Both John and I look to the person standing at the door sill. It’s him. John looks surprised even though I told him all about Sherlock’s lie. He didn’t believe me.

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock asks.

“Just leaving really,” I snap at him. “Would you help me, John? Please?”

“I can’t believe you, Sherlock! You lied to us! You lied to me; your best friend! You lied to (Y/N) and you weren’t here for Sophia.”

“Why should I be?” he asks confusedly.

“Are you serious?”

“John, please,” I beg him, taking Sophia in my arm yet again. “Don’t do this right now.”

“She’s your daughter for god sake!”

“She’s not… (Y/N)?”

“Sherlock,” I whisper, “of course she is. You really thing I would be ever able to be with somebody else but you? Sophia is indeed your daughter, you idiot. Is this why you thought I moved on?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“Well I didn’t. I never did and neither did your daughter, Sherlock.”

“Will you ever forgive me?”

I step closer to him with our daughter in my arms. Sherlock looks at her for a second with tears in his eyes. I guess he just noticed how similar they were. I hug him and he hugs me back kissing my forehead.

“Only if you promise to never leave us again, Sherlock.”

“I promise, (Y/N).”

A Scandal At Appledore - "But look how you care for Irene Adler..."

Author’s Note: Irene Adler is one of Sherlock Holmes’ pressure points. So, how would the scene in His Last Vow have played out if pressure had been applied to it? This is an alternative scene at Appledore featuring the Woman.

——————————————————————-

“You’ve worked very hard, Mr. Holmes. I applaud you. But despite all the effort you’re still so tediously obvious.” Magnussen’s sighing drawl was like cold breath on the back of Sherlock’s neck.

“Obvious?” Sherlock kept his voice casual, though he longed to slap the smirk off Magnussen’s thin face..

“Yes, well,” Magnussen spread his arms out on the lounge and pressed a button. A screen appeared behind Sherlock and John, “Opium and John Watson are two pressure points of yours for sure, Mr. Holmes. But I find the most useful pressure points, the most effective, are the ones that people try to hide.” Magnussen sneered as the screen flickered to life and Sherlock felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Irene Adler’s execution in Karachi played before their eyes in shaky, pixilated vision. Though, the picture quality wasn’t poor enough to hide her less than subtle escape from her death and, to Sherlock’s horror, the clear identity of her savior.

Keep reading

flowerlock I hope you feel better!

John always invites Sherlock, his lab partner, to rugby games, but he never sees riotous curls when he searches the bleachers for a sign of the boy. Just before Christmas hols, the team has a final game. John considers his invitation to this one a last-ditch effort, but at halftime, he sees a familiar angular face peeking from between the customary high collar, blue scarf, and an unfamiliar red wool cap. The black curls and glasz eyes are still visible, though, and John beams at the sight of them. 

He plays better than he ever has at that game, and rushes off the field to corner Sherlock while the team is still celebrating. 

“You came,” he gasps when he comes within earshot, “thanks.” He smiles in a way which probably makes him look like an idiot– wide and ridiculously pleased. 

Sherlock just smiles back, and he slips his mittened hand into John’s bare one. 

One Last Time (Sherlock x Reader)

Originally posted by gerlocked

You bit back tears, staring at the raven haired man in front of you. His face didn’t show any emotion, though you could see sadness in his eyes. Sherlock seemed hesitant, but opened his arms to you nonetheless. Silent tears escaped you as you threw yourself at him, burrowing your face into his neck. His arms locked behind your back, pulling you incredibly close to him. He was leaving you, again. You had been devastated after his fall, thinking he was dead. A pit had consumed you, one you barely escaped from.

Now you let silent sobs wreck your body. “Please don’t leave me again”, you whimpered weakly, feeling your legs wobble under your weight. Sherlock pushed you back a little, then cupped your face. His hands were shaking slightly as he pulled you in, pressing his lip against yours in a gentle yet passionate kiss. You put everything you felt for the man into the kiss. This was the last time you would kiss him, you realized. He parted from you, heartbreak evident in his eyes. He slowly got onto the plain, his hurt expression haunting your mind. You fell to your knees, pressing your hands to your face. Johns hand landed on your shoulder in an attempt to be comforting, but it only made you cry harder. The plain took off, Sherlock was leaving. Your heart left with him.

The Quiet

A/N: Of course, thanks for the request. Also, people, please send me requests and prompts they help a lot, they don’t have to be Sherlock and can be for ANY FANDOM.

Word Count: 935

Warning: None

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sherlock just take my advice on this one! Don’t go! You’re going to get yourself killed!” You yell at Sherlock as he rushes to get his coat on after figuring out where the murderer from his latest case is and declaring that he’s going to confront the man, much to your displeasure. He sighed irritably and stopped in front of you, his mystical eyes filled with determination and anger. “Look, (Y/N), you don’t have a vast knowledge in this subject, it’s partly why you don’t come along on cases. If you were in my shoes and met up with this man, you wouldn’t last very long because you would do something so incredibly stupid, like trying to reason with him, then get shot. You cannot, in any way, get me to stay so I am going.” Sherlock snapped in your face. Your desperate expression dropped to a blank one, hiding all emotion that his small speech caused you. Him calling you stupid felt like a punch in the gut since you had always been worried that you were stupid and unintelligent, you had never felt smart compared to your siblings so you had always been self conscious about it, even though you were quite smart. 

You cleared your throat subtly and looked up at Sherlock with anger in your (Y/E/C) eyes. “Go.” You spat then pushed past him to go to your room, you slammed the door behind you and it shook the silent apartment. Sherlock stood in shock of your actions but his mind quickly caught up and he was out the door in a second, texting John to meet him at the location, even though John was on a date.

~~~
Three weeks had past since your argument with Sherlock and you had barely uttered a word to him, only simple communication like how the limbs he was experimenting on where fully frozen. You were holding up well with not talking to him, still angry that he thought so little of you. Sherlock on the other hand was a worrying mess after the first week, he was still unsure of why you weren’t talking to him. At first he thought you would just be angry for a couple of days then forget about it but after a week he began to question how bad his statement was. 

You, Sherlock and John were sitting silently in the living room one evening; John was typing up a case for his blog, Sherlock was in his mind palace and you were reading a book that you had been fascinated with since the first page. “(Y/N), if someone was infatuated with another person, why would they torture and decapitate the girls entire family, including the girl?” Sherlock asked, despite knowing that you wouldn’t be sure on the answer, he desperately wanted to hear your voice again. However, your eyes stayed glued to the pages of the book, ignoring Sherlock like he hadn’t even said a word. 

Sherlock continued to ask you questions that were some what related to the case in hopes that it would coax you into talking to him, he even resulted to talking about your favourite TV shows and books to get you to say something. 

“Are you still not talking to him (Y/N)?” John asked as he finished up his incessant typing. You looked up from your book at John. “Well, no, nothing I say will be interesting to him considering I’m too simple minded for him.” You said and looked back down at your book. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows and looked at John desperately, John looked at him then back at you. “Has he apologized to you?” He asked, sensing the reason for your prolonged silence. “Nope.” You said, popping the ‘p’.

John’s head snapped to Sherlock who was looking like a sad puppy. “You wonder why she isn’t talking to you and you haven’t even apologized. Bloody hell Sherlock.” John sighed and ran his hand down his face exasperatedly. “Okay, you apologize to (Y/N), and actually apologize, no beating round the bush. I’m going to bed.” He said and stood up, crossing the living room to go to his bedroom. The door shut and the living room was drowned in silence again, Sherlock awkwardly got up and sat down next to you, your head stayed facing forwards but you peaked at him from the corner of your eyes. 

“(Y/N), I’m ever so sorry for what I said to you, I was only thinking about the case and wasn’t registering what I was saying. I never meant to insult your intelligence because you have an incredible mind and some times it does amaze me when you’re able to understand the things I ramble on about. The main reason I don’t want you on the cases is because I don’t want you getting injured or traumatized in any way, I care too much about you to inflict that upon you. I am incredibly sorry.” Sherlock finished his speech and hung his head low, preparing for the silence he expected from you. 

You took a deep breath and closed your book. “If you had just apologized after the case or after you said it, I wouldn’t have been as angry. It’s that you didn’t think you had done anything wrong,” You said quietly, still not looking at Sherlock. “But I accept your apology.” You finished and Sherlock’s head rose along with the corners of his lips. Unusual for him, Sherlock pulled you into a tight hug, you wrapped your arms round his neck and smiled into his shoulder.

After the hug

So I promised @ifyouarelookingforbabynames​ some fic as study motivation. I may have slightly gotten carried away. I hope you enjoy it!

On AO3 as well: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9279233


Eventually, John stops crying. It takes a while, but when the tears finally stop he feels better than he has in a while. Yeah, his eyes feel as though someone has coated them in sandpaper, and he’s pretty sure that he’s gotten snot all over Sherlock’s shirt, but he feels…lighter, somehow. As though a burden he hadn’t noticed he was carrying, is suddenly gone.

 He loosens his hands. At some point they’d migrated to clutching the back of Sherlock’s shirt so tightly that John is pretty sure the creases are going to be there forever. Sherlock releases him immediately, and steppes back. John tries not to feel bereft.

 “Okay?” Sherlock asks. He seems hesitant, not like himself, and John can’t stop himself noticing the slightly blurred edges of the word, where Sherlock’s swollen mouth and stuffed nose robs him of his usually-precise diction.

 John shrugs. Do better, the echo of Mary’s ghost whispers in his mind.

 “That was…that thing you did, that was…” he looks for the right word, and eventually his mind presents him with, “good. Thank you.”

 It’s amazing. Sherlock doesn’t move a muscle but his face lights up and he looks…transcendent. It lasts only a moment and then Sherlock Holmes is back, but with a new softness around his eyes and his beautifully expressive mouth, a melancholy twist that John has never really seen before.

 “I’m glad no-one saw that,” Sherlock murmurs, turning away. “Mrs Hudson will think she’s been right all along.”

 And John has been deflecting and denying for years – years, since school and uni and Afghanistan, years of saying the words over and over as though they could protect him from…something, he didn’t even know what, maybe himself? – but he can’t just let that stand.

 “Hasn’t she, though?” he suddenly asks, and Sherlock freezes with his back to John. He doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.

 John waits. He can be patient, if the goal is worth it, and this goal, he’s just decided, is worth everything. It takes almost a minute before Sherlock unlocks, and takes a deep breath. He doesn’t turn around as he asks, “What do you mean?”

 It takes John aback for a moment, but then he squares his shoulders and soldiers on, because he’s just given this man a speech about taking your fate in both hands and he damn well will practice what he preaches.

 “Mrs Hudson,” he says. “Lestrade. Irene. Even Mary, for God’s sake! They’ve been telling me and telling me for years, and I didn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it but…Sherlock, are you in love with me?”

 Sherlock doesn’t answer, and John, both fists clenched so tightly that they’re almost certainly going to hurt later, presses on before Sherlock can deflect or deny or even respond.

 “Because….because I think I’m in love with you. I think I’ve been in love with you for years, and I’ve been telling myself that it’s just friendship, but.” And that’s as far as he can go. That’s as much as he can say to that rigid back, those shoulders, that bowed head.

 Sherlock doesn’t turn around.

 “John, if this is just some kind of…”

 And John doesn’t let him go on, because this is too important, this needs to be said.

 “No, Sherlock, it’s – look, when you…when you were dead, right? I had a lot of time to think. And one of the things I thought about was us. Well, it’s actually all I thought about, but artistic license, yeah? And I realised that I would have spent the rest of my life with you, and I would have been happy. Even if we were never anything more than friends, because I love you, and I just…I love you. And it’s okay if you don’t feel that way, you don’t have to-“

 “I do,” Sherlock says, and it’s quiet, so quiet John wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t listening for the faintest interjection.

 There’s a moment of silence, and you can hear a pin drop.

 “You-“

 “I love you,” Sherlock says, and he begins to pace, just as he always did when he was explaining his deductions. “Of course I love you John, don’t be stupid! I wouldn’t fake my death for just anyone. Of course, I didn’t really understand until…well, that doesn’t matter now. Anyway, I love you, and I think I’ve loved you since the day we met. You said I was amazing, do you remember? And it was like fireworks in my brain. And later on you thought…well. What you just said about Mary and how you wanted to be the version of yourself she saw? You were that for me. You’ve always been that for me. You’ve always held me to a higher standard, believed better of me than I did myself. You’re my conductor of light, John, and when you were gone…” Sherlock turns, and there’s an aching vulnerability in his face, almost like when he was on the floor in the morgue. A sort of fatalism, like someone who is expecting to be hurt and is resigned to it. “When you were gone it was as though the whole world had turned to shadow, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t see.”

 And Sherlock’s voice cracks on the last words, as they did in the hospital – God, John wants to see Culverton burn, if only to erase the way Sherlock’s voice broke as he said that he didn’t want to die – and his hand goes to his mouth as though he can’t quite believe what has escaped from it. He is about to turn away again, but John finds himself taking a long step and pulling Sherlock into his arms.

 Sherlock lets him, lets John guide his head to rest on John’s shoulder. Lets his arms go around John even as John rests one hand in his hair and the other on his hip.

 Even as John murmurs into his hear that he loves him, he loves him, he’s always loved him and always will.

Fabric Magazine interview with Amanda Abbington

AMANDA ABBINGTON

I’ve had transformative conversations before, sure. But I think I may’ve just come out of an hour with Amanda Abbington a better person.

“Just be nice. Be nice, be nice. That’s what I say to everybody. That’s my mantra – just be nice. Pay it forward, send it out into the ether, be decent. It’s such a simple thing.”

She’s not holier-than-thou, all warm and wide-eyed and wringing her hands; Amanda is just very convincing about being nice. She’s even zen about cyberbullies (she’s faced her fair share on her ascension): “You meet it with, ‘Ok, that’s alright, you’re entitled to your opinion.’”

“It counts for a lot. Be nice and civil and respectful. I think we’ve lost that a bit. But I think, ‘I’m gonna set the benchmark a little higher, and at least say thank you.’”

Could I by any chance be talking to a parent? Someone in the midst of setting an example, say? “We do have a high moral code in our house – just about being considerate. I try to be a good parent, but who knows…”

Joe and Grace – Amanda’s children with partner Martin Freeman – aren’t here to vouch for Mum’s parenting skills, but the verdict’s back on one thing: ask any opinion of her, and you’re likely to get the same reply. “I love her!” I heard again and again. “I bet she’s really nice.”

Which is weird, when you think about it, because the last time most people would have seen Amanda Abbington, she was either at the powerful end of a pistol as the newly-wedded Mrs Mary Watson in Sherlock; copping off with a handsome young Belgian in Mr Selfridge; or as educational piety incarnate, Sali Rainer, in the Royal Court’s God Bless the Child. None of them nasty, but none straightforwardly ‘nice’.

But, of course, before a parent, Amanda was first an actress – one fast becoming a familiar face of British television. Until the offers dried up. Just as Freeman’s career was taking off (there was no resentment, though: “I can’t exactly play Tim from The Office”), the phone stopped ringing. “Stopped dead overnight. But I kept going.”

And things improved – but not, perhaps, her confidence. “I called it The Curse of Amanda Abbington,” she says. “Everything I ever did finished after one series. But it’s picking up a bit now – we’ve done three series of Mr Selfridge, and it’s my second run of Sherlock. So I think I’ve finally broken the curse.”

Indeed, if there ever was a Curse of Amanda Abbington, it seems to have lifted. This month sees her return to our screens in slick period drama Mr Selfridge as the ever-lovelorn head of accessories, Miss Mardle – who, now “an independent woman of means” with a love avowal under her neatly-belted belt, finally seems to be having a better time of it.

Amanda-Abbington-2Equally, last year, Amanda defied critics to portray the perfect third wheel as Mary Morstan-turned-Watson in Sherlock. As Watson’s real-life partner and a potential obstruction to the adored Sherlock-Watson dynamic, Amanda faced much online opposition. When offered the part, in fact, she thought she’d been called on to advise on a good match for Martin (Emilia Fox or Maxine Peake, FYI). But there’s no doubt she’s proven her worth. With filming begun this month, Amanda goes into Sherlock series four as the strong, surprising Mary (for which she just received the Best Supporting Actress dagger at the Crime Thriller Awards) – transformed from Conan Doyle’s barely there bit part to an integral element of the show’s dynamic.

“It’s absolutely about John and Sherlock. It should be; it’s about their adventures. But I liked that there was this third wheel, and she was female and strong and could hold her own – she wasn’t there just to accommodate them. But, then, I think all the women in Sherlock are like that.”

Mr Selfridge’s Miss Mardle, too: “Beneath the wrong-footed exterior, she is determined, ambitious. And she shows that you can be ambitious and have a heart. She certainly holds her own. Mary and Miss Mardle are both strong women, and I don’t think they facilitate men – they’re there as equals.”

Is this something that’s evolved since her career began? “Yes, but I still think there’s a long way to go. If you play strong women, they have to be slight lunatics. You can’t have a funny, strong character without an element of strangeness.”

“But in this play [God Bless the Child, a smart educational satire directed by the Royal Court’s artistic director Vicky Featherstone], there are four women who don’t talk about men. Just four women on stage, none mad. It’s so healthy.”

The play marked Amanda’s first theatrical turn in ten years – and to say she was apprehensive is like saying 221B Baker Street is just an address. “I was terrified. I was pre-kids the last time I did it. You’re more fearless when you haven’t had children – I felt more fearless. I think your emotions come to the surface more. It makes everything so accessible.”

So which is scarier, parenthood or acting? “They’re both terrifying, but I’m more in control of acting. With parenting, you’re basically winging it – hoping you don’t cause too much permanent damage.”

And how do the kids feel about Mum and Dad’s line of work? “They love it – they find it fascinating. They’ve been on a film set or at a theatre since day dot, so they think parents who go to an office are really weird.”

“They love Mary. Grace wants to be Mary when she grows up. I said, ‘No, you can’t really be an assassin…’ And they love Bilbo [Freeman’s role in The Hobbit], just love him being Bilbo.”

And they can expect to enjoy a lot more Mum on screen soon: Mr Selfridge will take us through to autumn, then Sherlock kicks off with a special next Christmas, while she comes straight here from a read-through for a BBC sitcom, which, if it comes off, will be “so much fun”.

“I love doing comedy, I don’t know if I’m particularly good at it, but I love it. And theatre. And after ten years off, I’ve got the bug again. I think what Vicky’s doing [at the Royal Court] is fantastic: bucking trends, doing stuff that’s challenging. I love people that take risks, that aren’t afraid of saying something controversial – something thought-provoking.”

A sentiment clear in her wish list: “I’d love to work with Abi Morgan, she’s amazing; Simon Stephens I love; Shane Meadows; Jack Thorne – they’re such brilliant writers. They have guts. And I’d love to do a horror film, like The Babadook. That’s on my wish list. Lady Macbeth is on my list too.”

Which, with a plethora of parts both actual and potential, plus Martin’s busy career, means getting time together can be tricky. “Family is much more important to us, but we also both want to work. It’s finding that balance. It’s hard work, making time for each other. But when you do it’s wonderful.”

Of course, filming Sherlock helps, but a studio isn’t quite the same. Quality time is, instead, spent at home in Hertfordshire or in town: “I love London – it’s where I grew up. Coming in on the train, going to the theatre, seeing the lights, was such a big deal. I love to look at it with fresh eyes. What we have here is amazing: parks, history, that skyline – it’s gorgeous. If I don’t see it too often, I miss it, I miss all it does.”

It’s this that makes Amanda’s ‘do unto others’ axiom so irresistible; adult and parent she may be, but she can be as sincerely awed as a child. And, sometimes, just the right side of childish. She seems as loved up as a teenager (“Martin’s my favourite actor,” she borderline gushes. “I’m desperately proud of him.”); argues with prepubescent trolls on Twitter; loves sneezing panda YouTube videos (this she acts out for me); and is just as amazed at London as she was at eight.

“A teacher once gave me the best piece of advice: ‘In London, always look up.’ Because you’ll see so much beauty. It’s quite a good metaphor for life, actually – always look up!”

With this final charge, Amanda heads backstage, and I buoyantly out onto the street – head tilted dutifully skywards – and into a postbox. With my newfound niceness, naturally I’m profusely apologetic, but I do wonder: is this, perhaps, the new Curse of Amanda Abbington?

Mr Selfridge airs on ITV this month

Exo reaction when you don't answer your phone after you two had a big fight

Sehun:*bratty hun* Oh well it’s her lost if she doesn’t want to answer the phone!

Kai:*tries to hide his tears* I guess this time it’s really over if she doesn’t want to hear from me!

Tao: If I’m gonna hear the voice mail one more time I’m gonna go nuts!

Kyungsoo:*the gif talks for himself*

Chanyeol:*turnes into the sad virus who spreads his sadness everywhere* 

Chen: I guess I deserve to burn in hell for treating her like this! fair is fair though!

Baekhyun: Maybe instead of trying to call her I should just buy her some flowers and go and face her!

Lay: Baekhyun: She’s not answering you cause she’s mad at you!

No shit Sherlock,and here I was thinking a  pigeon tol her phone!

Suho: Okay this is the last time I’m calling her! 1000th will be lucky, I can feel it!

Kris:Do any of you know a good flower shop cause I don’t think calling her i going to slove anything since she’s not answering!

Luhan: Sehun:Why don’t you jsut give up and go to bed hyung?

Cause I’m a reall man,and real men can’t sleep before they don’t say sorry to the girl the love for being assholes!

Xiumin: Have anyone seen my car keys cause I need to get to my girl house!She’s not answering her phone and I can’t leave it like this!

Meeting Harry

She shows up at just gone three in the morning. Sherlock doesn’t realise who it is at first (only running on two hours sleep, at best), but then he sees the blonde pixie cut. John’s eyes.

“Um,” Sherlock says eloquently.

She’s crying, stone cold sober, crying in the street. “I’ve n-not heard-” she gasps, and then, suddenly, she’s brandishing her phone in Sherlock’s face. “No word-just his bloody blog!”

Sherlock takes a step backwards. “I don’t think this is-”

“And you wrote the last- the last- that fucking wedding!”

Sherlock is so tired. It would be very easy to tell Harry Watson to shut up, and send her packing. But then, she gathers herself, with all her anger and hurt and worry, and says, “Just… just one phone call. Or a text, I don’t care. I just… I need to know he’s alright.”

And damn it all, there’s something familiar there, isn’t there, loath though Sherlock is to admit it. Worried siblings will be the bane of his life.

So, instead of doing the easy thing, Sherlock does the right thing: “Harry. Would you like a cup of tea?”

She doesn’t stay long, and hardly talks, and Sherlock is glad of it. She sips her tea slowly. “Does… does he still have my old phone?”

Sherlock frowns. “Why?”

She shrugs. “No reason.”

Sherlock nods. Harry smiles. It’s only a little bit sad.

“Sometimes, people ask me what it’s like to be the sister of a… well, a celebrity. Practically. I say I don’t know, because I don’t.”

Something twinges uncomfortably in Sherlock’s stomach. Harry holds his gaze, coldly determined.

“But I know one thing. He’s better with you, happier with you. True, he’s a right idiot, but then so am I. Genetics.”

Sherlock laughs. God, he needs to sleep.

Harry sticks out her hand. “Ta for the tea, Sherlock. Give me a ring when- when you’ve got things sorted, ‘kay?”

In a daze, Sherlock nods and shakes her hand. She leaves then and there, making sure to close the door gently so as not to wake Mrs Hudson.

Sherlock likes her.

Scared To Loose You (Nate Maloley imagine)

| Requested by anon: Hey could you do an imagine where Y/N is really close to Swazz but is Nate’s girlfriend and naturally Nate starts to get really jealous and worries about it? I love your writing :) (MASTERLIST)

I was getting ready for the day as Nate called me. “Hello?” I answered happily.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hey! What’s up?” I asked while putting him on speaker.

“I’m bored. Let’s do something today!” He suggested.

“I’d love to do something with my favorite boy, but I already have plans.” I said while grabbing my concealer and applying.

“Oh,” his voice droppped. “with who?”

“Swazz.” We were really good friends. I met him before I met Nate. But since we started dating, Swazz and I didn’t have a lot of quality time.

“Oh,” Jealous, Maloley? I thought by myself. “where are you guys going?”

“Uh, we’re going to Panera to have some lunch.” I said while blending my makeup.

“Oh, have fun babe.” Not jealous? 

“Thank you. Gotta go, I’m going to be late. I’ll text you, babe.” Nate mumbled a ‘bye’ before I hung up.


“(Y/N)!” I walked in Panera until I saw Swazz waiting for me. I smiled and hugged him. “You look great! I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Thanks! I missed you!” We friendly smiled at each other and went to our table.

We ordered our food and catched up. It was so nice catching up with friends after decades. “So, you and Maloley?” He smirked.

“What about us?” I laughed.

“Did he hit it already?” I shook my head at his comment.

“No comment.”

“Oh, he definitely did!” He got a little too loud and everyone looked at us.

“Lower your volume, would you?” I laughed. “So, what about you, huh?” I asked while sipping my coffee.

“Single like a pringle. But don’t worry, I’m not bothered.” He winked. I shook my head and looked outside.

Nate’s car?

“Uh, is that Nate’s car?” I asked Swazz. But instead, Nate Maloley himself answered.

“Damn right.” He smiled. “Hey babe.” I frowned at his presence.

“Hey? What are you doing here?”

“Checking up on my friends, of course!” He sat next to me and I gave Swazz a questioning look. “What’s for lunch?” Nate asked.

“Can you excuse us for a sec, Swazz?” He nodded and I pushed Nate out of the seat. We walked outside. “Why are you here?”

“Problem much, babe?” He raised his brows.

“Uh, no. It’s just a little rude to intrude our lunch like that.”

“I’m not ‘intruding’, I’m joining.”

“Well, another time, babe.” I patted his shoulder. 

“Why? Why do you want me out so damn bad?” He asked.

“Swazz and I are good friends, I just wanted to spend a little friend-on-friend time without my boyfriend.” Sounds ridiculous, I know. But he needs to know he can’t keep doing this. “You’re jealous?” I smirked at him.

“No shit, Sherlock. Babe, you have no idea how fucking crazy I get whenever I see you with a guy that’s not me. I’m just scared to lose you.” He mumbled the last sentence.

“You what?” I asked, making sure he would say it out loud.

“Scared to loose you.” He quickly said.

“Sorry, sorry one more time?” Of course I already understood it.

“I’m scared to loose you, alright?” He said out loud. I smiled and bit my lip. I cupped his face and kissed him.

“I love you, only you.” I said against his lips.

“I love you too. But I’m still joining, though.” He winked and walked inside again. 

John had almost drifted to sleep when the knocking began.

“John.” Tat-tat-tat. “John.” Tat-tat-tat.

“Mmmnnn,” he managed, then forced his eyes open. “Yeah?”

“Are you asleep?”

“Not anymore.” John ran a hand over his eyes and stifled a groan. Visions of being hauled out of bed in the middle of the night for a case flitted across his mind. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The door clicked open and Sherlock peered through, pale face barely visible in the dim light of the corridor beyond. He stared at John for a long moment, lips pressed tightly together.

“What is it?” John asked.

Sherlock didn’t respond. He pushed the door open enough to lean against the frame. His hair was madness, he hadn’t shaved in days, and a particularly tattered dressing gown hung loosely from his shoulders. His t-shirt was a little too small for his frame, and there was a strip of pale skin visible between the bottom hem and the low-slung waistband of the pyjama pants he wore.

His eyes, though – John recognized that look. A warm buzz began to settle in the back of his skull. He suddenly had a very good idea of where this was headed.

“You all right?”

Sherlock opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything. He just looked, his gaze locked on John’s face. John felt a pulse of electricity run down his spine. So it was one of those nights, was it? It had been a month, and John had started to wonder if that time after the Dreyer case was going to be the last.

John propped himself up on his elbows and smiled. “You want to come in?”

Sherlock closed the door behind him and leaned back against it. He let the dressing gown drop from his shoulders. John’s gaze followed it down to the floor, then slid back up to Sherlock’s groin.

Definitely going to be one of those nights.

John tugged his t-shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor. He stretched out on his back on the bed and slid a hand down over the front of his boxers. He looked up again to see the tip of Sherlock’s tongue drag across his lower lip.

John had to bite his cheek to stop himself from grinning. “Get over here.”

- @emmagrant01