wake up sherlock!!!!!

Pictures on the wall

In TFP, when Sherlock wakes up in the room with the pictures on the wall, after seeing a prev post where someone found a pic of smol ben, I thought I would investigate, and boy was I in for a treat 


Here’s a real close up of smol ben (just his eyes) next a picture of his lovely parents - Wanda and Tim - together.

Here’s smoll Mark and some smaller pics of Mark (maybe in his early teens?) next to it! 

Here’s a smoll but not too smoll Mark.

smol ben in primary


smol ben (wearing a wig(?)) and smoll mark



What the letter John wrote was actually saying (a headcanon) :

“Wake up.”

Those simple words. “Wake up”. Sherlock looked at it in disbelief, without understanding what it meant, he tucked it in his pocket, trying to forget it, because none of this was making sense at all. 
Those words John will repeat later as he beats the shit out of him. “Wake up”.

Just “wake up”.

okay but what if they have a bonus scene at the end of the last episode, after all the gay has been revealed to us and it’s just, Sherlock lying quietly sleeping, amazing in itself because it’s so rare to see, but it gets better. His phone rings, he jerks upright, and grabs it from his nightstand.

“Lestrade? What do you have for us?”

He said us. Your heart starts racing, Sherlock throws the covers back. “We’ll be there in twenty minutes.” He said we’ll, there’s suddenly not enough oxygen in the room. Someone groans. It’s not Sherlock.

The covers are pulled down slightly. John is lying on the other side of the bed, cocooned in the sheets. “What the hell, Sherlock?”

Sherlock is pulling on his pants. “Case, triple homicide, Scotland Yard is stumped. We’re needed.” He said we’re. Your heart is in your throat. “Hurry up, John. The trail is going cold.”

John groans, Sherlock rushes out of the room, haphazardly pulling on his shirt.

John scrubs a hand down his face, swinging his legs out of Sherlock’s bed. “Of course. Why did I think anything would be any different just ‘cause we slept together?”

Sherlock races back through the door, still buttoning his shirt, and plants a sloppy, wicked morning-breath kiss on the side of John’s mouth. “Good morning, by the way.” His eyes twinkle with mirth. “I love you. Now come, John. The game is on!”

He grabs his coat off a chair, swinging into it and billowing into the hall.

John gapes after him, then brings a hand to his lips— and smiles. “I love you too, you mad git.”

ok but john overhearing sherlock on the baby monitor is becoming my new favourite thing?

john falling asleep on the sofa because he’s exhausted and then he wakes up to hearing sherlock take care of rosie during the night? and he can hear all the things sherlock whispers, things like “it’s alright, I’m here now” and “we have to be quiet so we don’t wake up your daddy, okay?” and john is just staring at the monitor in the dark because he still can’t believe that this is how soft sherlock is towards his baby?

and when sherlock puts rosie back into bed he waits to make sure she doesn’t cry again, and before he leaves he whispers, “good night now” and maybe even a hesitant “love you” and then he goes back down the stairs and stops in the doorway to the living room and he looks into john’s direction and quietly says, “you too, john” before he goes back to his bedroom? and john can’t think of ever being happier than in that very moment? oh my goodness

sherlock and johns favorite nights are when they watch old movies on tv and get take out and cuddle under a fuzzy blanket mrs. hudson gave them, and they always accidentally fall asleep and john will wake up disoriented to find sherlock gently snoring, face tucked into johns neck, and he’ll wake sherlock up with kisses and theyre both the happiest men in the entire world

Okay guys here me out I had the best and angstiest Sherlock whump dream last night! I might fic it at some point I really need to tell the story now:

Sherlock had been kidnapped by a rogue military cell who wanted revenge on something that had caused them nuisance, probably Sherlock solving their crimes and exposing them or something. They took him to a war ship and away from British seas to make it harder for Mycroft to recover him. 

To Sherlock himself they told that he’s there to create a new scientific formula/weapon/whatever evil a military organisation could want. To stop him from escaping they broke his hips and his hands so he could barely move. Whenever they didn’t make him work they kept him locked in a tiny cabin at one of the bottom decks of the ship. I was the one furthest away from the power room and it was so cold there. 

Sherlock  would just lie there, in pain and desperate to go home. ‘If I’m good’, he would think, ‘If I’m good enough and do what they want they’ll let me go home.’ And when he thought of home he thought of the living room of 221B, warm, heated up by the fireplace, himself in front of it and John holding him close. And that’s what he kept dreaming of when he curled into himself, broken and cold and so alone. 

Then one night his cabin door opened. The soldiers hauled him up and told him they needed him to go back to work immediately. Sherlock deduced this was not true but a ruse to get him to go peacefully. But it’s not like it made any difference, he was hurt and overpowered. They dragged him out of the ship and onto the land, where he was handcuffed and left kneeling on the rocky shore. The leader of the organisation stepped up and told him they would have to kill him because his brother and the British forces were getting too close, and they didn’t really need him anyway, they had all the evidence they needed to execute him for his crimes against the organisation - eye for an eye. 

A gun was pressed to his forehead, and there he was, kneeling and cuffed and about to die, and for the first time in his life Sherlock knew he would not make it home. And so he cried silently. 

But the shot never rang. 

Meanwhile in a British army base John, Greg and Molly were waiting for the recovery team to return from their rescue trip. (Here’s a good spot to stop and tell that Molly and Greg were married and had a school aged daughter, yayyyy!) Before leaving they had confirmed that they had a positive identification about Sherlock’s location. John was giddy and strung up, because finally they would have news, they could even have Sherlock back. So there he stood when the team plane landed, and after all these weeks of looking he finally allowed himself to smile a little. 

The smile on his face fell when Mycroft stepped out of the plane, grim faced and without his brother. And John could not stop himself from curling inwards like a beat dog, nor could he stop his eyes welling up with tears he would not cry. His face was truly heartbreaking to watch. But he didn’t break. Instead he held it all in, walked with Mycroft to the command room and discussed strategy to find his friend. 

When he stepped out Molly was waiting for him. This time he couldn’t keep it in - he folded himself into Molly’s embrace and began sobbing. Big, white hot tears kept falling when he cried and cried and cried, and Molly rocked him from side to side, hushing him like child. ‘We’ll find him’, she’d say, ‘We’ll find him and bring him back home to you.’ John wanted to believe her but he couldn’t help doubting. What if not?

But Sherlock proved himself once more miraculous. Somehow (dream logic) he had managed to escape his execution and find the army base on his own. So there he suddenly was, exhausted and crashed on the floor, and the base around him simply exploded into action. Someone brought the word to John, and let me tell you, he ran. When he saw Sherlock he didn’t stop to think for a second: He fell to the floor in front of him and, mindful of his injuries, gathered him on his arms, stroked his hair and kissed his forehead as they cried together. 

And then my goddamn alarm went off and I woke up. WHY?? This was the most perfect Sherlock dream I’ve ever had!

@addignisherlock @savedbyholmes I thought you’d appreciate some angsty dreaming. 

sherlock: *wakes up before john and actually lets him sleep bc he looks so serene* *brushes a hair off his forehead and touches his nose to john’s cheek*
sherlock: *whispers in john’s ear* hey if dream you can hear me…i love you…also please dream about us flying on rocket boots. that would be so cool

Give me:

  • Sherlock getting a cold and wearing one of John’s jumpers to make himself feel a little better 
  • Rosie falling asleep on Sherlock’s lap and him being terrified to move because he’ll wake her up
  • John walking around the flat with Rosie to help her fall asleep and just leaning over to peck the top of Sherlock’s head as he passes
  • John and Sherlock slow dancing in the living room to no music
  • John and Sherlock waking up after falling asleep on the sofa together and sleepily tugging each other to bed
  • Rosie crying in the middle of the night and Sherlock mumbling “My turn” and kissing John on the forehead before getting out of bed
  • John coming home from the surgery and finding Rosie and Sherlock both napping on the sofa
  • John and Sherlock sharing a bath with candles and wine and soft music
  • Sherlock listening to clients while bouncing Rosie on his knee
  • Sherlock composing a lullaby and love song and playing it for John and Rosie 
  • John and Sherlock lying in bed together and just staring at each other in silent wonder because they can’t believe that they finally made it here
  • Just let my sons be happy. Please.

sherlock wakes up at three in the morning one summer night, shaking and sweating. he opens his eyes, flings off the single sheet he’s using to cover him, and looks over at john to make sure he’s really there.

john wakes up immediately, of course, and watches sherlock for a second, trying to figure out what’s going on, before he reaches out and places a hand on his arm gently. he asks him if everything’s alright and –

sherlock tells him about his horrible, horrible, in-depth nightmare he’d had, where he and john hadn’t ever gotten together, hadn’t ever kissed, hadn’t ever told each other “i love you” – where molly still wasn’t over him – where sherlock had a sister, of all things. an evil, psychopathic sister who had killed his dog that wasn’t really his dog, who was smarter than mycroft and could control minds and had been locked away since she was four. that part, sherlock said, had been fairly unrealistic, but wasn’t really what scared him. sherlock tells him about how sad and scared and alone he had felt, how the worst part was that up until the very end most of it had felt excruciatingly real. sherlock, at this point, is wrapped in john’s arms. it’s far too hot for this, and they’re both sweating, but sherlock’s face is pressed against john’s shoulder and he’s whispering all of this to him while he tries not to cry.

john listens, and when sherlock’s done, john presses a kiss to his hair. “that’s horrible,” he says, and he thinks of everything sherlock said, and feels a knot of dread form somewhere deep in his gut. he wraps his arms tighter around him, and whispers, “thank god none of that’s real.”

sherlock snorts slightly, smiles and nods.

they fall asleep again soon after, and a few months later they forget it ever happened.

great concept: john takes up yoga and one morning sherlock wakes up late-ish in a snoozy fog to see john posing and stretching w no shirt and his lil back muscles looking all nice and sherlock is 😳😏😯😍

Here’s the plot of S4 (spoilers!!): John, Mary, Sherlock and Rosie go out with doggo, it’s awful because mary is a creepy psychopath but they solve the case anyway. Everyone has a good time yelling at Margaret Thatcher. Denver gets a BAFTA for his performance. Sherlock hangs on a bridge for a while, then goes home to sulk because he’s sad and gay. He writes a cryptic message so john knows what’s up (“WEED TO KILL”) then gets stoned with Mrs Hudson, falls asleep and dreams all sorts of weird shit. Dark stuff. Let’s not talk about this. None of it is real and nobody gets hurt. Towards the end, Sherlock realises he loves John. When Sherlock wakes up he throws up half a weed brownie through his nose but it’’s okay bacause he’s lying in John’s arms. “You won’t believe this,” John says, “but you were asleep for two hours and so much has happened; basically mary moved to Morocco to her secret other family and as it turns out, Rosie was a half-cooked Italian sausage in a wig this entire time. You talk in your sleep btw and ily too. And i would never punch you.” They make out on screen for 90 minutes. Moriarty is fucking dead and no one cares. 

john hearing shouts in the middle of the night and running down the stairs to find sherlock, curled up on the floor where he had apparently fallen asleep, and he realizes sherlock is having nightmares and it breaks his heart because he sees sherlock flinch back and whimper and so john gently wakes him up, and sherlock looks up wide-eyed and frightened and impossibly small and john just curls sherlock up against his chest, on the floor of their flat, and slowly rocks him and hums gently until the shaking stops and then they stay like that, with john peppering soft kisses onto sherlocks curls and sherlock safe in john arms