what i'm getting from this is that sherlock is asking watson out

mizjoely  asked:

For the fic ask: "You caught me without my gloves I'm practically naked!"

Taken from this historical prompts post- https://writingwife-83.tumblr.com/post/162989401123/historical-story-prompts 

Thanks for this one! Love it! And naturally, this is Victorian era, seeing as that was a big time gloves/modesty time period. Hope you like! :D

Molly tugged impatiently at the satin material at her fingertips with jaw tightly clenched. She was absolutely suffocating.

And it wasn’t just the temperature in that dining hall.

She lay the cream colored gloves on the railing of the balcony and took deep breaths of the cool night air, trying to ease her mind and tell herself it would all be ok.

Thomas was fine, perfectly fine. He was a lovely man. And more than likely he’d be proposing any day. Surely this would be an excellent match. Yes, the conversation was a bit tedious and there seemed to be no spark, but Molly was no fool. Fairytales didn’t exist and it was silly to wait for a man who could turn her turn to a puddle with a single touch.

Molly sighed and slid her hands along the railing, enjoying the cool metal on her now bare fingers. Though her relaxation was short lived, seeing as she accidentally knocked her gloves over the edge and to the ground below…just as she heard a low voice behind her.

“Yes, it will always be like this.”

She whirled around to see Sherlock Holmes stepping onto the balcony, wearing a knowing smirk.

Ah yes. He was the other reason it was getting a bit warm inside.

“Always be like what?” Molly questioned as she laid her bare arms on the railing behind her back.

He chuckled while coming closer. “Oh Miss Hooper, you know who I am. Obviously you were standing out here questioning the course your life is currently taking. Wondering if things will always be quite this dull, and wondering whether you can bear to put up with it for the rest of your days. And there are things you question whether you can do without.”

She swallowed hard, her arms now the least of her worries. She felt a bit stripped down in more than one way now.

She’d spent enough time with Sherlock Holmes, the infamous detective, to decide that he was nothing short of intoxicating. Molly couldn’t get enough of him, and that frightened her more than a little. Especially given the fact that he usually seemed so aloof.

“A-and how can you claim to know my thoughts so very intimately, sir?” Molly questioned softly, though she was almost afraid to hear the answer. Was she so very transparent?

Sherlock stepped closer still, keeping eye contact as he slowly reached around her back to slide a hand over her bare arm, causing goose bumps to erupt all along her flesh, which she blushed to know he’d naturally feel beneath his fingertips. She couldn’t possibly look away, no matter how hard her heart was pounding and how difficult it seemed to get enough air.

He took her hand and gently pulled it out from behind her back to slowly bring it up to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to her smooth skin. As he removed his mouth, he spoke softly.

“Perhaps, Miss Hooper, I have simply recognized something in you…which I’d recently seen in myself.”

Molly felt her face heat to the boiling point when her gaze inadvertently fell upon his lips, thinking of how they’d just felt on her hand. And just when she saw his eyes slip to her lips as well…he unexpectedly stepped away and moved toward the door.

A crushing blow of disappointment washed over her and she began questioning whether this was some sort of cruel trick or game or-

“Miss Hooper, are you coming?”

Her gaze shot to his in confusion. “Pardon?”

“It occurs to me that no matter how fine a place Dr. and Mrs. Watson had chosen for their engagement dinner, your gloves should not be left in the grass behind this establishment. It seems only right that we briefly steal away to retrieve them from where they fell.” His lips lifted in a small but telling smile.

Molly’s lips bloomed in a smile to match his as she slowly crossed the balcony to take his arm so that they could quietly slip out the back way and into the moonlight. Granted, fairytales still didn’t exist, but nevertheless she was perfectly content. Because what did exist was true love.

And she’d found it.



thestrawberryblondehobbitbatch said:                                                           

Can you do a Sherlock x reader fic where the reader gets kidnapped my moriarty and sends Sherlock a video showing her being tortured and he keeps on calling a Dimond instead of pet.

A/N: I actually really like this and I'm tempted to make a second part.

Warnings: description of torture and swearing.

Sherlock was pacing up and down the living room of 221B. You’d be missing for two days. You were not one to leave for more than twenty four hours without notice. Normally, before your departure, you would at least tell someone you were leaving even if it was not Sherlock. He had suspicions that Moriarty was alive so he thought that he may have been responsible for your disappearance. However, he did not like to fear the worst when it involved you. He hoped that you were on a holiday. Or something along those lines.



“So," Sherlock said putting his cup down on its saucer. "Any word from Y/N?”

“No,” John replied. “I thought that you had some information.” John was sat opposite Sherlock in 221B. John called in just to check up on Sherlock but they both knew that he really arrived to discuss you.

Sherlock sighed. “Then I guess we have to wait. I don’t like waiting.”

“Y/N is responsible enough. She can look after herself.”

“Yes.” There was a notification from Sherlock’s phone. The text read:

Check your emails. - You Know Who.

Sherlock rushed to the computer and quickly got up his emails.

“Sherlock, what’s- Is that Y/N?” John exclaimed and ran over to the computer. Sherlock had opened up a video which was attached from an unknown email.

“I guess that we have no choice but to watch,” Sherlock sighed and pressed play.



The video started of with you tied to a chair and gagged. Tears stained your cheeks and there were heavy bags under your eyes due to lack of sleep.

“Hello,” Moriarty said walking in front of the camera. “I have your precious little diamond here. Now, what to do with her…” He turned and approached you. He stroked your face before smacking you. It was impossible to hide the pain and fear from your eyes. And that bastard knew he was frightening you. Sherlock and John winced for you. They felt your pain. Moriarty proceeded to retrieve a whip. He took the gag out of your mouth.

“Don’t,” You pleaded.

“I took the gag off so they could hear you screaming,” He snapped. “Not so I could hear you talk. Fucking bitch.” He grabbed your hair and threw you to the floor. Your hands were bound so you could not fight. Moriarty never got his hands dirty and he always used someone else to do the damage but he could not miss a chance to taunt Sherlock and he knew that it would hurt more if it was him to hurt you. He brought the whip down upon your back so the crack of a whip and your cries could be heard throughout the room. Moriarty smiled with glee as he continued to inflict lashes upon your no frail body. Although you already felt destroyed, you decided to grit your teeth and bury your head into your forearms. You concentrated on not breaking down but you had to give in eventually as the pain was too immense. Your back felt like it was up in flames. Blood was draining quickly from the large wounds which had formed on your back. They would leave nasty scars.

“Stop,” Was all that managed to escape your lips.

“I said don’t fucking talk,” He snapped as his patience was wearing thin. He whipped you a final time. “I think that’s enough whipping for one day.” He knelt down beside you and took your hands into his and unbound them before snapping ever single one of your fingers. There was a loud crack as they were bent to breaking point earning an ear piercing scream from you. He then kicked you to a pulp and left you unconscious on the cold hard ground.

He laughed like a maniac before addressing the camera. “See,” He said pointing to your body. “Every diamond can be smashed into pieces.” The footage ended.



John was reduced to tears and even Sherlock was chocked up.

“Is she dead?” John asked.

“No,” The detective replied. “She was breathing. Well, for now. We need to go and find her now! This is my top priority and I am taking this very seriously.”

What I think actually happened

(This is not a true story.)

Once upon a time, there was a little boy who lived in a very homophobic family composed of his mother, his father, and his older brother. This little boy liked boys. When it was discovered, his life became hell. His parents moved to America to send him to “conversion therapy”.

After such a traumatic experience, the boy did his best to repress any and all feelings he had towards other boys. Soon, the boy – now a Man– turned to drugs to cope. Eventually, he ended up living in the streets. In Florida, he met a kind old lady. Her husband, a criminal, abused her horribly and cheated on her, so the boy –now a Man– helped ensure that the husband would be arrested for his crimes executed. 

What neither the Man nor the old lady know was that her husband had had a daughter with another woman. A daughter roughly the same age as the Man, who lived in England and swore vengeance when her father died.

The man’s Brother, at this point, found the Man and forcibly put him into rehab, then flew with him to England. Now free from her awful husband, the old lady followed them. Soon after he was clean, the Man was given a job by the local police department. The Man loved his job, and it helped him stay off the drugs, but he was feeling horribly lonely and depressed, developed self destructive suicidal tendencies.

Five years after he got clean, over the course of 3 days, the Man met three people who were going to impact his life significantly in entirely different ways. 

  • The first was a Surgeon who loved her cat Toby and who became his friend.
  • The second was an Army Doctor with a chip on his shoulder, who he slowly fell in love with. They became flatmates, but were both too afraid of being hurt to do or say anything about it. The old lady from Florida was their landlady and not their housekeeper, but she did make sure they that they didn’t starve
  • The third was a serial killer, who gave the Man one word that turned his life upside down.

Meanwhile, the Daughter had already begun preparations for her vengeance. 

She’d invented a job for herself, the only one in the world: Consulting Criminal. Under the cover of giving people advice on how to get away with murder, she helped the media make a lot of money (selling their stories to newspapers), then arranged for the killers to be caught by the police anyway, so that they’d take the credit and make themselves look better. Those she did let get away with murder and other horrible crimes, she blackmailed into doing whatever she wanted. And since she knew doing so would put her at risk, she hid behind a male persona, going so far as to hire an Actor to play criminal mastermind while she hid safely in the shadows. Eventually, she had the whole English government dancing to her tune. And among the government officials she controlled, was the Man’s own Brother.

She’d even gone undercover as the Surgeon, to get close to the Man and see his suffering up close and personal.

One day, a few months after she met the Man, the man’s Brother came to him for help. Simultaneously, the Daughter used Moriarty to lure Sherlock in so deep that the government and all those people she was blackmailing would feel threatened enough to attempt to kill him. Which they did. They even went to her asking for help.

Using the Actor, a Greedy journalist and the Brother as pawns, she dragged the Man’s name through the mud in the media and made a lot of money in the process – she did love a lucrative vengeance, after all. Then she threatened the Man’s friends and blackmailed him into killing himself by jumping off a roof – effectively disguising his murder as a suicide.

What she hadn’t counted on, was that the man, against all odds, survived the fall. He went into a coma due to his brain injury, but he was still alive, and breathing. And unbeknownst to her, the Man’s brain was working out how he’d been set up and almost killed, why, and by whom. So she let it be at first, thinking he’d die soon enough, or stay in a coma forever.

But then the Man started waking up. So the Daughter had no choice but to poison him so that the doctors would think he was brain dead and pull the plug on his life support, effectively killing him. 

What Molly Hooper, Surgeon and grieving Daughter, had also failed to take into account, was that John Watson was a competent army doctor, and he was going to see the signs of Sherlock being poisoned in time to save him.

And when Sherlock woke up, having realised that she was behind it all in his dreams, he and John took her down. And then they had a good and long overdue talk, got married, adopted a dog, and eventually retired in Sussex to raise bees.



So I was talking to perrstein about this as we did an elementary re-watch, and it’s something we were wondering about. Is Moriarty actually aware of how much Joan Watson was responsible for her downfall? Sure, she knows about how it was Joan who figured out if they staged an overdose, she’d come running to the hospital. But does she know the full extent?

In the beginning of the penultimate episode—the episode before the finale—Joan, not Sherlock, is the one to go over the crime scene and find the rare yellow paint—it was called gamboge, and very few stores sell it. It’s how they were able to find Isaac Proctor, the man who pretended to be a tutor but was an assassin for Moriarty and before that worked for the CIA. The man who pretended to be Irene’s tormenter, Mr. Stapleton.

Just look at Moriarty in the photo. Sherlock and Joan think she’s angry because she’s without answers, while really, she’s plotting the murder of this man’s brother. Because of above all else, Moriarty despises incompetency, and in her mind right now her carefully laid plans are unraveling because of the actions of Isaac Proctor. Little does she know that this is all happening because she’s such an art snob, she absolutely had to have the most expensive paints for her projects.

This is the true face of Moriarty. Ruthless, calculating, cold. Absolutely lethal. They show her a picture of Isaac, asking if she knows him and, re-watching the episode, she almost gives herself away with “I just don’t know,” just barely holding back a smirk. God it sounds so mocking watching this again, knowing that there is no Irene, there is only Moriarty.

Once the NYPD tracked Isaac down, he met up with one of Moriarty’s men and he told Isaac “You were sloppy. The police never should have been able to trace that house back to you. Moriarty can’t abide that.” He then let Moriarty’s man go, so he could report back to her “that Sherlock Holmes is a dead man.”

The only reason the police were able to trace that house back to him is because Moriarty was the one who wanted the rare art supplies. He was following her orders. Now, if Isaac Proctor hadn’t been revealed, Moriarty wouldn’t have tried to have him killed. He would never have retaliated by going after Sherlock, and Moriarty would not have tipped her hand and revealed herself as Moriarty. Joan’s defeat of Moriarty goes far further than the fake overdose. Moriarty would have gotten away with it if she had never bought that one jar of paint.

It’s even more of a testament to Joan’s intellect, because if you listen to what she originally said when she picked up the jar of paint “I have these reading assignments, lately about art.” Joan was able to almost instantaneously make the connection of the paint’s importance to the case, from only a few months of deductive training.

In that flashback scene between Irene and Sherlock, Sherlock experienced a similar situation that Joan did with the paint. Except, he himself wasn’t able to pass it—he needed Irene’s help in determining whether or not the painting was a forgery and he wasn’t able to deduce that it had to be a forgery because of the presence of Turmeric, which Irene stated “was being rationed at the time because of your Afghani war.” Yes, eventually he would have gotten to that point, but he wasn’t able to immediately arrive there. He’s been teaching Joan only for a few months, and she was able to absorb the information better than even Sherlock, enough to instantly recognize the expensive paint and deduce from that very few places in NYC would sell it.

Joan Watson brought about Moriarty’s fall from grace long before the hospital. What I’m wondering is if Moriarty even knows how much damage Joan is responsible for. How she was able to account for everything- Sherlock, the police, the hospitals, because Moriarty was sent to a hospital where they marked significant psychological damage, not to mention that for Moriarty to be deemed physically fine a doctor must have examined her first, and I’m guessing there was no physical examination. Like Moriarty would ever let anyone see any possible weaknesses she might have. Not to mention she’d be very aware that some things would show up on a physical examination, like the fact that she had melanoma and at one point had a child. She would have done extensive research on Sherlock’s new companion- just because she dismisses her doesn’t mean Moriarty didn’t find out all she could about one Joan Watson. She would have known Joan Watson used to be a very capable surgeon, who would have known how to read a medical chart.

That chart would have been faked.

Not to mention Moriarty wouldn’t have just had one hospital under her purview, that’s something that too easily could have gone wrong. What if they sent her to another hospital? Maybe there was an emergency and since she would have been deemed as non-essential, they would have taken her to one that’s farther away. Unlikely, but not entirely impossible and this is Moriarty, she accounts for every conceivable possibility. She would have all the hospitals in the area in her pocket. Not to mention, she’s able to just walk into the hospital, despite the fact that police would have been crawling over the hospital. Not that Gregson or any of the group would have thought they’d be effective, but it would have told Moriarty that they were on to her. Appearances had to be kept up, and once in the hospital she would have needed to receive help from both the police and hospital staff to get to Sherlock’s room undetected.

She didn’t crawl through the window, or an air duct. You can hear the door open and she just strolls through uninhibited, without a scratch. The doctors would have known her by sight, because she didn’t talk to any of them. If she had talked to any of them, asked them to examine Sherlock it would have been obvious his drug overdose was false. She didn’t, she just strolled through, so sure of her superiority that in the end Moriarty was the one to get sloppy.

Moriarty accounted for every possible contingency, everything that could go wrong or disrupt her plan. She was so sure of her ascension to godhood that she was untouchable, but she forgot that even gods can be toppled down, as long as one determined hero has the courage and skill to try.

anonymous asked:

Hello! I love you're Sherlock sketches (that pin is amazing) and i really love your thoughts on him. I'm a big fan of the original books. While I'm also a fan of the BBC show, Disney movie, and Rathbone movies, I'll admit that they have their flaws. In your opinion, what do you think is the main thing that people misinterpret about his character? Why is it that no one gets seems to get Sherlock Holmes right? (Sorry if that makes no sense) Thanks!

Ah thank you so much! Ahh…so preface: I am no Sherlock Holmes expert! I just really loved the books (read ‘em a lot as a kid). I’m aware that there are a lot of different exegesis/analysis of the character–particularly who inspired him (Dr. Bell, Doyle Himself, etc). But these is just my general thoughts/understanding? also: LONG POST AHOY!

 Confidence vs. Arrogance: Ok, so this I feel is a pretty big one that people get wrong! Sherlock Holmes possesses an enormous confidence in his brain and in his work–and it is described as “bordering on arrogance” but not actual arrogance itself (at least most of the time, he does get on Watson’s nerves if he presumes too much, hah). When Holmes’ confidence is misplaced, he is quick to criticize himself, apologize to whomever, and move the heck on, so that he can fix things…which…the more arrogant portrayals of Holmes struggle to do. Also, Holmes is “eager” (probably the most used description in all the books) not because he is compensating, but because he just loves his job. Thusly, he isn’t as concerned with “getting his man” as he is with solving the crime/protecting innocents. You’d be surprised how many villains get away at the end of these books (Holmes believes they get their just desserts eventually).

  • “‘No, it is not selfishness or conceit,’ said he, answering, as was his won’t, my thoughts rather than my words. ‘If I claim full justice for my art, it is because it is an impersonal thing–a thing beyond myself. Crime is common. Logic is rare.’” (Mystery of the Copper Beeches)

Misunderstanding “The Machine”: In modern interpretation, Watson’s comparison of Sherlock to a “machine” gets lost in translation, I think. In modern sensibilities, we see machines as cold, clinical, incapable of feeling (ie. robots). It is a common critique of Holme’s character in many modern adaptations. However, Watson’s comparison is…more specifically related to the arena of sexuality and romance. “Holmes is as inhuman as a Babbage’s calculating machine and just about as likely to fall in love.” This “inhumanity” is less a commentary of Holmes’ emotional spectrum, and more a bemused observation that Holmes has like 0 interest in having The Sex with anyone. Leading to my next point…

Sherlock Holmes doesn’t hate people: I don’t know what the modern obsession is with having smart/clever character be these sardonic butt-holes with a disdain for the human race and how their brilliance is an excuse for any sardonic butt-holery they do. It is boring and lame, and Sherlock’s character falls prey to this A LOT. But here’s the thing, this guy does not hate people–he just doesn’t always exist to please them (at least in a Proper Victorian sensibility). Holmes does get emotionally involved all the time! He sympathetically listens to people’s stories, he comforts clients when he feels they need it. He is enraged at a man who flagrantly insults his wife, a step-father who abuses his daughters, he talks a woman down from suicide, defends another woman’s perceived infidelity, he even talks to a baby, and yes, it is the purest thing. He also keeps another companion when Watson moves on. Also, he and Mycroft get along? There’s literally a whole couple pages of them goofing off together and complimenting each-other. 

  • “Finally he shook one of the dimpled fists which waved in front of him. ‘Good-bye, little man.’” (The Sussex Vampire)
  • “‘You must not fear,” said he soothingly, bending forward and patting her forearm. “We shall soon set matters right, I have no doubt.’” (The Adventure of the Speckled Band)

Holmes doesn’t hate women???: Eyyrgh, ok so no bones about it, Sherlock Holmes is a product of his time. He says a lot of socially accepted “truths” about ladies–how they can’t be trusted, how they are silly, hair pins, etc. And that is annoying and wrong and we all can agree on that, I think. However, he is always civil to women, and rarely talks over or belittles them–ESPECIALLY when he knows they are being abused or in distress. Also, Irene Adler humbled him Quite A Bit–and a lot of his previous overtures on women change through his experience with her and the other rad ladies he works with. I think he partly senses how systematically misused women are–and he is pretty quick to defend them (See: The Copper Beeches, The Lone Cyclist, The Veiled Lodger, The Speckled Band, The Greek Interpreter, The Dancing Men, Charles Augustus Milverton, The Yellow Face, The Sussex Vampire, among others). Maybe not, but he takes their side 9 times out of 10. Of course, he’s not interested in boinking any of them, so modern (male) writers get confused by this and mistake sexual disinterest for misogyny. :/ 

Also a big pain with me and the modern adaptations is that they change the narrative of the stories to make some of the lady characters awful/justify some shoe-horned in remark against womankind. I got particularly riled by the Brett version of The Greek Interpreter, where the girl (abused in the original book) is secretly in on the whole plot and Holmes sneers at her for heartlessly enabling the death of her faithful brother. Where the heck did this come from???? The book has a great ending (where the girl literally Stabs Her Abusers to death, and escapes the heck outta there), I just don’t get it. >:[ (They did this in the Hound of the Baskerville movie too. akjhfddk) 

Anyway, I’ve rambled long enough! Thanks for asking!

I'm not silly (Sherlock x reader)

22: that’s irrational
54: I’m not good enough for you
58: I’ve been in love you with my whole life, ever since I met you.

College!AU and then into more. Timelines are stretched for fictional purposes.

You met Sherlock Holmes at University. He had rushed into one of your classes during his last year to tell your professor that he was an utter imbecile. Something about him had just sparked something in you and you knew that you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet him. You’d heard all about Sherlock from people on campus all the time but this was the first time you had ever seen him. You’d stood up following him out of the lecture hall. He hadn’t said much only rose an eyebrow at you as you fell into stride beside him.

He had just kept walking as you stayed quiet beside him. He hadn’t stopped you from following him into the cafe or sitting with him. It was after he ordered a (Favorite Drink) for you that you decided to speak up.

“(Y/N).” You introduced yourself giving him a smile.

“Hm. (Uni Major). You’ve been here shorter than the other students. You live on campus but you have a bag of all your valuables which means you don’t trust your roommate. Your shoes are worn and the jumper you’re wearing it at least two years old. So you’ve spent all of the money you have to be here. Not a good choice. Smarter than the rest of these idiots. Why else would you have followed me? You’re not from here. Sherlock Holmes. It’s a pleasure.” He went on and on as your eyes widened.

“That’s amazing. Except that I don’t trust two of my roommates.” You were amazed by how good he was at reading you.

“There’s always something.” He muttered.

“So… since you know so much about (major subject) would… would you mind maybe giving me lessons?” You asked him a little nervously.

“I’m not going to be here anymore after today.” He stated bluntly as they delivered your drinks.

“Oh… you can just forget that then.” You blushed looking down.

“But I’m going to need a flat mate. Get your things I’ll call a taxi. I’ll help you move what you can’t carry.” He didn’t hesitate to speak as you almost dropped your drink.

“You… want me to move in with you?” You asked shocked that he would ask you that without ever having met you before.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. You don’t annoy me. It’s rare I’m not going to take it for granted.” He spoke sipping his tea.

“Okay then. Just one question. You’re not a serial killer or anything right?” You asked eyeing him up.

“No. Not that I would tell you if I was. But I can assure you. I’m on the other side of that.” He gave you a small smile.

“Okay then. I’ll move in with you.” You smiled finishing your drink.

Sherlock paid for the both of you calling a taxi as you told him your room number. He took off again this time towards your room. You followed him quickly not wanting to lose him in the crowd as three lecture halls released. You didn’t think about it as you grabbed his hand. He glanced at you his eyes widening a little before he gripped your hand back. He was quick as he helped you pack your few belongings and carry them to the taxi he called. There was enough space for both of you to still sit in the back of the taxi. He spoke briefly to tell you where the flat was. It was outside of London in a slightly rundown area but it was still nice enough. The two of you made your way in and he helped you unpack. You noticed he had been here for a little already.

That was how it started. You’d been around with him for so many years. The two of you had somehow blended perfectly. You were with him through everything. From every drug relapse to every big case. Then someone else came into your life and threw things off balance. John Watson had been thrown into your life and suddenly you were moving. The place you’d come to call home for so long was left behind. It was exciting to get to see Mrs. Hudson more but the little world you’d created was cracking a little.

You stepped through the door having gone grocery shopping. Sherlock and John weren’t there again. You sighed as you moved the head in the fridge to put the eggs away. They seemed to always be out without you now. John had only been here a little while but it was still almost too much for you to handle. You didn’t want to freak out or anything, Sherlock didn’t have anyone other than you and Mrs. Hudson so this was good for him. You just wanted what’s good for him. You didn’t notice the door opening or John saying hello as you shut the fridge door lost in your thoughts.

“(Y/n). I got you dinner from Angelos.” Sherlock spoke sitting a styrofoam container on the table.

“You stopped by Angelos to get me dinner?” You asked somewhat touched by the idea of that.

“No. We had a case. Angelo told me to give you that. Could you make me a cup of tea?” Sherlock moved to sit in his chair not even looking at you.

“The two of you went to Angelo’s without me?” Your voice shook a little.

“Of course we were on a case. You were shopping I couldn’t bring you.” He answered as if it was obvious.

“I’m… this seems personal. I’m gonna head down the Mrs. Hudsons.” John spoke to no one leaving.

“You took him to our spot.” Your question was more of a statement.

“It was for a case.” He said again looking at you this time.

“Angelo’s is our place Sherlock. I… I didn’t like it but I didn’t stop him from moving in here. And I didn’t stop you from taking him on cases. I even started getting his groceries because you’re happy when he’s around. But taking him to our place… our spot. That’s where we ate the first night at our first flat. We eat there once a week together. And you take him and you don’t even… I can’t Sherlock.” You shook where you stood before grabbing your coat.

“It’s a restaurant. Other people eat there and you don’t get mad at them. I don’t know why you’re upset with me.” He stood up grabbing your coat out of your hands.

“Sherlock… it’s not just us anymore. I moved in with you on a whim years ago because I knew I couldn’t let you go. And it was just us and I thought it would always just be us. But maybe I was wrong, you don’t need me anymore.” You finally let it all out tears prickling in your eyes.

“That’s irrational.” Was all he could manage to get out as he watched your tears start to form.

“Sherlock… I know you don’t get this… I know I should have known…. I should have known.” You tried to grab the coat back from him.

“(Y/n) stop it! Stop talking!” He lost his control throwing your coat onto the ground.

“Sherlock…” you were taken back by the sudden outburst.

“I’m not good enough for you. I don’t deserve you doing what you do for me. You’ve been there… I mean all of it… drugs… when I went to jail…” he spoke quickly his words less articulate than usual.

“Sherlock nothing you do… will ever make me not care about you. I’ve loved you my entire life, since the moment I met you. You changed everything. Ever since the moment I saw you I knew that you were so much more than anyone else ever could be. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me and I don’t want to lose you to him.” You felt the tears fall and wanted to touch him reach out and hold him close but it was rare he would even let you.

“(Y/N)…. John can’t replace you…. because I.. you’re the only one I… feel things for.” He stumbled through his words finally on grounds where he didn’t know more about you.

He moved and grabbed your shoulders pulling you into his chest. It was stiff and new but he wrapped his arms around you. You buried your face in his chest getting as close to him as you could. He inhaled deeply and you realized that this had been stressing him out too. You had pulled back from him and he probably hadn’t realized why.

“Move into my room?” He asked you not pulling back.

“This is just like university all over again.” You gave a breathy laugh.

“Does that mean it’s another yes?” He asked smiling in what you assumed was a joke.

“Yes it is. You have the good sheets.” You smiled pressing your lips against his tentatively.

He was stiff for a moment before pressing back and kissing you. John chose that moment to walk in and Sherlock pulled back. You went to pull back but Sherlock kept a hand on your back.

“You’ve fixed things then? That’s great. I was wondering when you’d get back together.” John spoke smiling and going to the kitchen.

“Back together?” You asked raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I mean you guys clearly had a fight I was wondering when you’d make up.” He shrugged.

“We weren’t together John you idiot.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“You weren’t? Oh you’ve lived together for what like ten years almost? I thought…. sorry with the way you two are though I don’t think you can be much more together.” John reasoned before shaking his head.

“Don’t be silly John. Not that I’m not worried about you you’re gonna see what it’s really like.” You shook your head moving and taking Sherlock’s hand as you pulled him to his room shutting the door behind you.

“I’m not silly.” John huffed.

Holmes and Watson on Holiday

(Story to go with the image, reblogged below)

“Sherlock!” Joan was not pleased. “You’re getting sand on everything!” She swiped at the sand on her beach towel and glared at him.

“It’s a beach, Watson. We are surrounded by sand. Sand. Sand. Sand. Sand everywhere.” His hands waved emphatically. “Bloody impossible not to get sand on everything.”  He plopped down on his towel, sat cross-legged and sulked. This beach excursion was her idea; she’d coerced him into coming along.

“Whatever,” she muttered dismissively and flipped on to her stomach.  Propped up on her elbows, she attempted to read.

Irritated, Sherlock scanned the crowd around them, distracting himself by honing his observational powers, deducing ages, occupations, relationships…

An older man, grey-haired and tanned, caught his attention. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of Watson. Granted she was looking particularly stunning in a small, yellow bikini, but still this man had no right to look at her that way. This irritated Sherlock further.  "You are being ogled,“ he announced flatly.

"That’s nice.” Joan kept her eyes on the page. “By you or someone else?” she asked disinterestedly.

“By him.” Sherlock quickly stood, ready to protect their small square of sand.

Two feet appeared beside Joan and she looked up from her book. Watson squealed  happily, “Oh my god, Jerry!” before jumping up and hugging the man.  

“I thought it was you Joanie. Had to get a little closer, the eyesight’s gotten worse you know.” Jerry was hugging her with a bit too much familiarity for Sherlock’s taste. He cleared his throat.

Joan suddenly remembered Sherlock. “Jerry, this is my business partner, Sherlock.” The men shook hands. “You remember Jerry don’t you Sherlock, my genetics professor. He helped with one of our early cases, with the molecular formula …”

Ah! Yes, yes, yes!“ Sherlock nodded and pronounced Jerry’s name with a certain amount of distaste. The organic chemistry professor with whom Watson may or may not have had a fling. His money was on a "had” at the moment - they were chatting away and ignoring him.  Sherlock laid down on his stomach and retaliated by completely ignoring them. Not really of course. He couldn’t help but listen.

A good twenty minutes of “Do you remembers” and “Whatever happened tos” later, Watson and Jerry were saying their good-byes and promising to keep in touch.

Joan sat back down beside Sherlock. “That was a nice surprise.”

“Hmm.” Sherlock turned on his side and propped his head up on his arm, watching her.

“What?” Joan knew that look of his even behind the dark sunglasses. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He answered lightly but continued. “I noticed you introduced me as your "business” partner.“

She looked down at him. "That’s what you are, isn’t it?”


Again, the tone of the “hmm,” meant there was more to come. She just cut to the chase. “Sherlock, what is the problem here. Spit it out.”

“Nothing.” He looked down at the towel and spoke. “I’ve noticed the rather sharp contrast between the way you act around me and act around others. I think I might swoon if you ever smiled at me the way you just smiled at Jerry.  And not just Jerry, everyone other than me, gets to see happy friendly Watson. I get eye rolls and smirks.” He looked up at her with an insecure shrug, “Why is that?”

Joan watched him for a second or two, before laying down on her side beside him. “You’re being foolish. Of course, I act differently with you.  You know the real me. I don’t have to pretend to be happy, friendly Joanie around you.” She moved her face closer to his. “With you, I can be myself without the sugar coating. I can be Watson.” Her last words were a bare whisper.

Moved by her words, he hid his emotions behind a scowl, “A little sugar coating might be good every once in awhile.” Sherlock rolled on to his back so as not to face her.

Joan watched him, her lip curled up into a smirk. “You’re jealous.”

“Oh please!” He dismissed her comment as absurd. “I’m no more jealous of Jerry than you are of, of Minerva or of Athena.”

Joan said nothing causing Sherlock to steal a glance in her direction. Her face told him nothing and everything. She stared blankly into the distance, before lying down on her back beside him.

“You should put your cap on. Your head’s getting red.”

anonymous asked:

I need some ficlets about how different people find out about John and Sherlock. Like; Mycroft, Lestrade, molly, and THE MEDIA (dun dun dun)

I’d never seen Mycroft speechless. I no longer found the Stalinesque office intimidating, and I’d faced down a hundred versions of his poker face, but this was new. At first I thought he was angry, and then I thought he didn’t believe me, and finally I realized he actually looked moved, and uncomfortable about it. Well, I never can predict him. I’m don’t even think Sherlock can. “Anyway,” I said, “I wanted to tell you first. Before the CCTV team tracked us kissing somewhere in a back alley and you took out a hit on me.” Not even a pained grimace in response to the humour. He was still just looking at me. “I swear I’ll take care of him.”

“I trust you will,” he said, finally, a little faintly.

“Be warned, he plans to tell your parents next.”

“I’ll brace myself.”

“Don’t bug the flat.”

“I make no promises.”

I found we were smiling at each other.

* * *

When the sun started to drop below the city skyline, and Lestrade got up to switch on the lights, “I’ve got to go,” I said, regretful, “Rosie’s sitter’s got a concert at seven. Sherlock?”, and I know by now when he isn’t hearing me. I brushed my fingers over the back of his hand, and his eyes flickered away from the paperwork spread over the table and came slowly up to rest on me. “I’ll meet you at home, yeah?”

“All right,” he said, vague, but fond, “I’ll be done soon.”

“No you won’t,” I said, and reached for the hand again, and squeezed it, so he knew I didn’t mind. “Unless you solve it. Wake me up and tell me all about it at arse o’clock, when you get in.”

“Mm,” he agreed, drifting again already. I turned to Lestrade.

“Got to go,” I was going to say, but his expression stopped me.

“Since when?” he demanded, and I felt my ears flush.

“Since three days ago.” I was surprised we’d kept it to ourselves that long. Every time I looked at him I wanted to kiss him. Half a decade of repression all let out at once.

“Go on, then. God.” He was starting to grin, hugely. “Go get Rosie. I’ll interrogate this one instead. But you’re going to get it from me tomorrow.”

“Piss off.” My whole face was flaming, but the grin was contagious.

* * *

I was just outside the sitting room door, pulling off my hat and scarf, when I registered Molly’s laugh. I hesitated. They’d been having a hard time, lately. This sounded–good.

“So you really aren’t surprised,” said Sherlock’s voice, and she laughed again.

“Not since he moved back here. You should have seen him, day of, going in circles round his flat. He was so happy he couldn’t think,” she said in a tone properly described as maternal, and I nearly turned around and went right back downstairs. I’d had no idea I was that obvious. “I had to talk him through taping up the boxes and emptying the fridge.”

“I didn’t know.” Sherlock sounded flustered, but very pleased. I sat down on the top step and sighed. I could suffer a little embarrassment for that tone.

“So yes, I knew. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, Molly.”

“Just–be kind to each other. And talk to each other, for God’s sake.”

“All right.”

“And stop stealing my scalpels. I do notice.”

“All right.”

* * *

“You realize the media’s going to find out.” He’d been playing something pensive for half an hour, and I’d been drowsing in my chair. I jumped awake.

“Hm. Yes.”

“Maybe we should just tell them.”

I sat up straighter and scrubbed my hands over my face, through my hair. He looked worried. “Control the narrative?”


“All right.” We don’t have a happy history with publicity. It’s a side effect of loving him I hadn’t anticipated: glass house living. Being on display. Having one’s life considered public property. “What do you want to do? An interview?”

“God, no.” He looked horrified. “Never again.”

“Twitter? YouTube upload? Take out a billboard?”

“John,” he scolded me, and crossed the room to stand in front of my chair. I looked up at him, soft in the lamplight, beautiful. Mine.

“Then what?” I said, and pushed myself slowly out of the chair (old man, I am) to kiss him.

“Hmmm,” he said, indistinctly, into my mouth, and then, “Put it on your blog, and come away with me.”


“Italy. Malindi. Morocco. Anywhere with mopeds.”


“My parents would be overjoyed to keep her.”

“How long?”

“A month? Just enough. Please, John.”

And oh, God, he says that so rarely, and he needs me so honestly. I caught his mouth again and kissed it slowly, breathing him in, until he made a sound past words, and then I let him go and said, “Yes.”

“To what?”

“All of it. Always. Yes.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Sorry to break some hearts but my brain put even more angst on the end of that fic. Just, if the threats started again and reader got in trouble and now I have the image of Greg crying while she's dying. Just, "I was supposed to protect you. I promised"... Ok.... I'll see myself out. -JM

A/N: You’ve inspired me to write an alternative ending darling! *hysterical evil laughing*

An alternative ending to this one shot- https://imaginedilestrade.tumblr.com/post/160490630033/im-going-to-take-advantage-that-your-requests-are

P.s I’m sorry 😭 not sorry


Greg couldn’t help but smile watching you crack a joke with Donovan and Anderson. Your smile could brighten his day.

He grabbed a pile of important letters he had to read and reply to, he heard you laughing through the walls and let out a laugh himself as he slid his finger under the envelope seal and tore it open, paying more attention to you than the envelope itself. He took out the piece of paper and he felt his whole body go into shock. As if someone had dipped him in freezing water.

Only he would have rather had that than the letter he was holding in is hand. It was all too familiar.

It simply read, ‘You can’t protect Y/N forever’.

“Hey!” Greg didn’t even hear the door open and quickly crumpled the piece of paper up in his hand.

“H-hi!” He nervously stuttered out and you couldn’t help but furrow a suspicious brow.

“What’s that?” You slowly approached his desk.

“Oh nothing, just rubbish” he tried to calmly laugh it off and you nodded understandingly before quickly snatching it off his desk. You ran away from his grasp and opened it “No! Don’t!” Greg pleaded but it was too late, your eyes had already scanned over the words.

“How long?” You asked, trying not to let your nerves show.

Greg let out a defeated sigh “This has been the first”.

You tore it up with a small smile “We’ll get through this Greg,” you tossed the paper into the bin and walked over to a petrified looking Greg “Together this time”. You took his hands in yours and reassuringly squeezed them.

“I promise you,” Greg began looking deep into your eyes “I will protect you and I will always be there for you”. You nodded and wrapped your arms around Greg, he held you tightly as the both of you shared a hug “I love you” he spoke into your neck and it sounded slightly muffled.

“I love you too” you pulled away and gently kissed him, not removing your lips from Greg’s until Anderson disturbed the two of you by awkwardly clearing his throat.

You and Greg pulled away with bashful smiles “I should get back to Baker Street, John asked me to watch Rosie for a couple of hours”. You bid your goodbyes and made it to Baker Street, Sherlock and John left you with Rosie who was sound asleep so you grabbed one of Sherlock’s books that was lying about and made yourself a cup of tea.

Your phone buzzed and you smiled at the screen noticing it was a text from Greg ‘I’m just out of work, five more minutes until I see that beautiful face of yours (if traffic doesn’t hold me up!) x’.

You were about to text back when the front door shut and you stood up “You two are back ear-” your voice disappeared into thin air as you saw an unfamiliar figure standing in front of you with all black clothing and a shabby looking knitted balaclava on.

“He can’t protect you now” he man sneered and lunged forward, you could barley react as you felt a sharp pain spread outwards from your stomach. The man scampered out the flat and our hands shakily pressed against your wound.

You couldn’t move, you could barely register what was happening. You stood on the spot as a tear streamed down your cheek and then you tried to find your phone. You let out a groan that burned your throat as you walked into the kitchen table, your right hand pressing on it to support your body as your left fumbled with your phone and you pressed on John’s number, you considered phoning Greg but he would be driving and almost at Baker Street.

After two rings John picked up “Hello?”

“John get back here. Now” you breathed out and hung up before he could speak.

Just as you tossed your phone away Greg walked through the front door with a large smile spread over his face before it fell seeing the drops of bright red blood on the floor that lead to the kitchen.

“Y/N?” He called out in a shaky voice and turned around, seeing you hunched over the table. He ran to you and wrapped his arms around you just before you fell to the ground, the lack of blood going to your head was making you dizzy.

“It’s….it’s okay” you softly whispered out with a small smile.

“No! It’s not!” Greg cried out as tears streamed down his cheeks “I promised you! A few hours ago I promised to keep you safe! I was supposed to protect you!”

“I know but this isn’t your fault” your voice was barely audible, if you spoke any louder your voice would crack and you’d end up as a blubbering mess in your final moments.

Sherlock and John rushed up the stairs, already having a sense of dread from hearing your voice on the phone. John crouched down beside you as you lay on the flor with Greg still cradling you in his arms. You let out a small yelp as John forcefully pressed both hands on your stomach to compress the bleeding.

“We need to get her to the hospital,” John told Greg and Sherlock “Y/N probably has internal bleeding-”

You cut John off with a cocky smirk “That’s where the blood is supposed to be…”

John let out a broken laugh, wiping away a stray tear that left his eye. You swore you saw Sherlock tearing up too. “John, I’m no doctor but I know…” You weakly trailed off and John sent you a sympathetic smile.

“Know what?” Greg asked as if he was being conspired against. You let out a shaky breath and looked up to Greg as tears splashed on your face “No…” His throat completely closed “No!” He screamed out louder, sending a shockwave of guilt though the flat.

“Greg, please…this isn’t your fault” you tired to relieve some of the guilt he felt but he wouldn’t listen, he was frantically shaking his head as tears spilled from his eyes. You reached your hand up to cup his cheek and he stopped shaking his head.

He placed his hand over yours “This is not your fault,” you weakly spoke out in a stern voice “Okay?” Greg sent you a single nod and you smiled “I love you”.

“I love you too Y/N,” Greg breathed out “Y/N?” He noticed the sparkle in your eyes fade and he screamed out your name in an pained animalistic roar, he desperately tried to wake you by shaking your body but it went limp in his arms.

John asked Sherlock to pull Greg away as the doctor grabbed a blanket to place over you with a heavy heart. The ambulance arrived to take your body away and Greg got into the back of it.

“Why don’t you come with us?” John suggested, he wouldn’t know how Greg would cope being left in the back of the ambulance with your lifeless body.

“No,” Greg groggily replied and glanced over his shoulder to John “I promised I’d always be there”.

The Last to Know

If anyone were to wander into the morgue at St. Bart’s on a Tuesday night, they would expect the silent solemnity that comes from handling the dead and their grieving loved ones.

What they would not expect would be an angry, petite pathologist covered in splatters of blood gesturing madly at a red-faced, somewhat short man in a torn jumper, gesturing just as madly.

The two people in question, one Molly Hooper and one John Watson, were good friends. Not that anyone would assume that, considering the volley of curses flying between the two this particular Tuesday night.

‘And I’m telling you, Sherlock will find out one way or another!’ John shouted, running an agitated hand through his short-cropped hair.

Molly planted her blood-covered, glove-clad hands on her hips. 'And I told you not to tell Mycroft! And what is the first thing you do? You go blathering to His Nibs! Of course Mycroft will not keep it a secret, there’s nothing he likes more than one-upping Sherlock!’

John growled and breathed in five distinct deep breaths, an audible crack sounding as he clenched his teeth. 'I did not go blather- Why am I defending myself? Mycroft looked at me and deduced it.’

'No,’ Molly huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, painting her white coat with more blood. 'That still doesn’t excuse the fact that within ten minutes of promising to not say a word you spilled everything! Thank God you don’t know any government secrets,’ she mumbled the last bit angrily.

Throwing his hands in the air, John groaned. 'How was I to know he would kidnap me today and within two seconds deduce something about you?’

'He’s Mycroft Holmes, you complete tosser! He’s better at deducing than Sherlock, you idiot! If I’d had a warning, I would have called him and explained or… or…’ Molly huffed, flushing redder, if possible. 'Or even gotten a bit of a head start!’

'What the bloody Hell is going on?’

Keep reading

mostlyanything19  asked:

Hi, if you have the time, can you tell me about A Study in Steampunk? I saw your comic about it and now I'm really curious (bc i crave emotional destruction apparently, oh well)


A Study in Steampunk: Choice by Gaslight is a text-based multiple-choice game written by Heather Albano and hosted by Choice of Games LLC. The story is heavily inspired by Sherlock Holmes characters, and set in a world with Steampunk, Dracula, and Jack the Ripper influences.

You can play the first three chapters for free online here, or buy the game from Steam for about $4 here. It’s also available for mobile for the same price.

Basically you play as a character very similar to Dr. Watson, opposite a character very similar to Sherlock Holmes. The choices you make throughout the game determine your personal stats, how your story goes, and how your story ends.

There are also 57 different achievements you can unlock depending on what you manage to do each time you play.

I personally think the story is very well written; the characters are convincing, and the plot weaves in political and social issues in a way that we can relate to even though it’s a fantasy world. Also, the choices you make actually have quite a big impact on things, both obvious and not obvious. There are a LOT of different endings, and I found it really exciting to try and find all of them. Save your country or let it fall, save your friend or let him die, save yourself or lose control and descend into madness, everything is there, and that’s not nearly a comprehensive list. I’ve clocked 35+ hours of play since I got it and I STILL haven’t found everything.

So essentially if you have any remote interest in Sherlock Holmes, fanfiction, steampunk, mystery, or adventure, you should get this game. Seriously, $4 for 35+ hours of gameplay is amazing. I don’t kid when I say this is the best $4 I’ve spent in terms of the value I got out of it.

I don’t want to be spoilery here, so if you have further questions feel free to message me, I’m super eager to talk about this game in more detail if you want :D

  • Baby Holmes: ...
  • Baby Holmes: Dad?
  • Sherlock: *at his kitchen lab* Mmm?
  • Baby Holmes: *fiddling with his hands* Are you and Mum fighting?
  • Sherlock: *glances at his bedroom door; smirks* Oh, no...far from it.
  • Baby Holmes: *relieved* Good.
  • Sherlock: *returns to work*
  • Baby Holmes: ...
  • Baby Holmes: Dad?
  • Sherlock: Mmm?
  • Baby Holmes: *fidgets* Is Mum ill?
  • Sherlock: Not that I'm aware of.
  • Baby Holmes: She's eating a lot.
  • Sherlock: *abandons experiment; lifts his son into his lap* Yes? What else?
  • Baby Holmes: Uhmmm...she's sick sometimes. And tired a lot. She had to get lots of new clothes.
  • Sherlock: *nods* Yes...
  • Baby Holmes: *grimaces* She keeps wanting you to rub her back and stuff...
  • Sherlock: *chuckles* She certainly does. Why would that be?
  • Baby Holmes: She has to bend over at work...and it could hurt.
  • Sherlock: *prompting* Carrying something, too. That could do it, right?
  • Baby Holmes: *nods*
  • Sherlock: *grins* So...deduction time. We have morning sickness, weight gain, mood swings and sore muscles *gestures encouragingly* You've seen this before, haven't you? Rosie Watson's little brother...
  • Baby Holmes: *gasps* Is Mum having a baby?
  • Sherlock: *affectionate smile* And you said you'd make a terrible consulting detective.
  • Baby Holmes: *beaming; hugs his Dad*
  • Sherlock: *proud smile* I can't guarantee you'll have a brother, though.
  • Baby Holmes: *shakes his head; mumbles into Sherlock's jacket* I don't care.
  • Baby Holmes: ...
  • Baby Holmes: Dad?
  • Sherlock: Yep?
  • Baby Holmes: *looks up; innocently* How did the baby get there?
  • Sherlock: ...
  • Sherlock: ...
  • Sherlock: *raises his voice* Oh, Molly, dearest? *picks up his son; moving to the bedroom* We have a question for you!

Moffat Appreciation Week: The Sherlock Special

“I’m your landlady, not a plot device!”

The Abominable Bride is a story about stories within stories within stories.  Here the tale of a Victorian Sherlock is embedded in a modernised Sherlock Holmes in the present time, with short stories and blogs and a journey back into the painting of a waterfall. This characteristic is not only visible in the episode’s parallels, references and it nods to storytelling, but it also extends to its Victorian plot and the deconstruction of the role of women in the show, the original story, and society.

The episode judges and preaches, with a deliberately dramatic flair, but it almost side-steps the issue of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss being the one to indirectly critique, by making the male perspective explicit in the text itself. This is not a woman’s narrative, not outside and not inside the show, and it’s not even attempting to masquerade as one. It clothes itself in its own limitations – that of a story written by two men about two other men. And so it takes place in the mind of a man, filtered through his point of view, entire scenarios made up within an already fictional world.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi! I'm new to the fandom and was wondering if you could rec me a few of the famous johnlock fics? The fandom favorites and such? Just so that I have somewhere to start. Thank you :))

Oh man I’m not gonna lie I just got so excited about this ask. Firstly, welcome! Second, I’m so jealous of you because you get to read all of these for the first time. Fandom classics, here we go!

Performance in a Leading Role - Mad_Lori

Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? 

A Study in Winning

John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything?

The Frost is All Over - Chryse

John was brave and clever and loyal, a commoner who longed for an exciting life. Sherlock was dashing and brilliant and passionate, an Earl’s son who longed to solve crimes.

Pas de Duex

When Sherlock gets banished to the Year 13 corridor, he finds himself with a new locker neighbor: John Watson, the enigmatic captain of the rugby team whom the teachers love and girls swoon at the sight of, but Sherlock isn’t charmed. Not in the slightest. Honest.

Bury the Bells - unknownsister

AU set after WWI in 1922. John is adrift in a loveless marriage. He takes a holiday to the country and meets a difficult patient. The spark that ignites between them might relight John’s life or burn it to the ground.

Eggs and Coffee and Love Confessions

These two really are such idiots, but they figure it out in the end.

The Great Sex Olympics of 221B - XistenialAngst

John Watson thinks Sherlock Holmes should admit that he, Watson, is more of an expert on sex than Sherlock is. But Sherlock refuses to concede the point. He comes up with an experiment plan that will resolve the issue. The results will determine who wins the prize. But sometimes even the best thought-out scientific study has unexpected consequences.

Dawn Before the Rest of the World - PoppyAlexander

In one of the grand houses of England in the 1920s, butler Sherlock Holmes is wooed to pieces by the world’s most romantic gardener, John Watson.

Over Fathoms Deep - bittergreens

When the youngest son of the aristocratic Holmes family is shipped off to sea in an attempt to cure him of his poor temper and bad manners, he fully expects to spend a long tedious voyage as miserable as ever. What he does not count on is having his heart stolen by the strapping young crewman, John Watson.

To the Sticking Place - blueink3

Renowned Shakespearean actor Sherlock Holmes has finally burned all of his bridges in the theatre industry save for his constant director, Greg Lestrade. John Watson has made a name for himself in the musical theatre circuit, but age and injury are working against him. Can they reinvent themselves for an all-male Macbeth without killing one another?

Northwest Passage - Kryptaria

Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn’t truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes

I’d Probably Still Adore You With Your Hands Around My Neck - Mssmithlove

When Sherlock and John become roommates in their first year at University, they both end up finding things they never realized they were looking for- in each other.

Just Like That (Gone and Changed) - cwb

John and Sherlock are best friends, until John goes and changes.

A Cure for Boredom - emmagrant01

They’d never talked about sex in the year they’d known each other. Well, that wasn’t quite correct: Sherlock had never said a word about sex; John had bemoaned his personal dearth of it on many occasions.


Also if anyone has any that I forgot, because I’m sure I did forget some, feel free to add them in the comments!

Imagine John Watson as a child thinking both girls and boys are cute and finding he will have crushes on both and not understanding why or what it means

Imagine teenaged John Watson knowing he is bisexual and trying to get up the courage to come out to his parents and friends. But then one day Harry comes home and announces she’s gay. After seeing the way his parents react to Harry’s declaration, he decides to stay closeted.

Imagine John in Uni wanting to kiss guys he thinks are cute but unable to bring himself to it. He’s got all this experience with girls but everyone still thinks he’s straight and every time he’s alone with a guy he’s interested in, he just keeps hearing his dad’s voice in his head that he didn’t raise his kids to be queer.

Imagine John in the army meeting his commanding officer for the first time and knowing right away there is something there. He and Sholto maintain their professional relationship as long as they are able until one night after they lose a comrade. They drink a bit and everything John has wanted for so long finally unravels him and they take one another apart with their lips and tongues and hands and teeth. Sholto asks John to call him James in private.

Imagine John realizing he is in love for the first time in his life, but still in a position where he has to keep it and himself a secret. Imagine how much it breaks his heart when it ends.

Imagine John’s depression after being invalided home. How he sometimes thinks of just ending it. He’s all alone anyway. He doesn’t talk to his family or James. Nothing ever happens to him. And then he meets a man who makes him feel alive. But the man isn’t an option for a romance, so they become friends and flatmates instead.

Imagine John’s frustration with people thinking he and Sherlock are a couple and having to correct them because he would like nothing more than to be a couple with him. John knows he’s falling in love with Sherlock, it’s barreling toward him like a freight train and there’s nothing John can do to prevent it from happening. He dates women and feels nothing for them emotionally, but there’s no way he can come out now. Sherlock would know in an instant how he feels.

Imagine John’s heartbreak after Sherlock’s suicide. After John was working up the courage to tell him how he felt. And then his last words he said to Sherlock’s face were calling him a machine. That Sherlock never knew how deeply John loved him. And now he never will.

Imagine John finally trying to move on. He will never get over Sherlock totally, but he can’t spend the rest of his life wishing it had all gone differently. And Mary is nice. I mean she was there for him during his grief. The sex is fine. And he may never really fall in love with her, but he does love and care for her, so there’s no reason to keep hesitating.

Imagine John realizing it’s too late when he hears Sherlock’s speech. Imagine his confusion hearing Sherlock’s words like they are a confession. And knowing there’s nothing he can do about it now. Then he finds out Mary is pregnant and his regret is multiplied. Now he might lose his friend as well.

Imagine John miserable without Sherlock. Dreaming about him. Packing his clothes and cycling to work, hoping to hear from Sherlock. Sadly wanking in the shower. Grabbing his phone desperately fast anytime a text comes in. Second guessing what he heard at the wedding. Promising himself that if he can confirm Sherlock really feels those things for him, he will leave Mary, baby or no. He will finally do what it’s taken him his life to do and come out. And then the woman he married but never really loved almost kills the man he loves more than anything.

Possible scenarios to season 4: part 1
  • we are in a giant hall. marble walls, chandeliers, tall vaulted ceiling. The fancy crowd is either sitting at small tables or standing and chatting, holding drinks. The women in luxury dresses. the men in elegant suits. There's a stage standing after the crowd and on it there's a band playing classical music.
  • we cut from the crowd and are viewing from behind a fancy buffet, at the backs of two men standing in front of it. One is tall with black curls and an impressive posture, the other is shorter with light brown hair.
  • we cut to their fronts and encounter Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, both in tuxes and bow ties.
  • John: look as all these women!
  • Sherlock: careful John, you're a married man.
  • John: oh shut up. How the hell are we going to find this woman? she could be anyone!
  • Sherlock: well she's certainly not that bearded man i the blue suit. unless she's really good...
  • John: *anxiously fixes his tie* why did Mycroft have to send us here as waiters? couldn't he give us fake IDs or... a special card or something
  • Sherlock: I asked him to.
  • John: why?
  • Sherlock: It's essential for my plan.
  • John: and in what point are you going to let me in that plan?
  • Sherlock: now seems like an appropriate time. (raises his look, observing the crowd in concentration) The woman we're looking for...
  • Mycroft: we were informed of the existence of a woman. we suspect she's working for the Swiss, but we can't know for sure and we're not interested in any cooperation. we suspect she's holding information our best agents weren't able to find.
  • Sherlock: you really have to start filtering your agents better, they're terrible.
  • Mycroft: she has no idea the information she's holding is valuable. No one knows but us. and we'd like to keep it that way.
  • Sherlock: so you want me to talk to her.
  • John: how? you don't even know who she is.
  • Mycroft: we know she's be attending a gala next week. find her. find out what she knows. without reveling any connection to the British government. this is crucial.
  • Sherlock: There are people here who are far to known to be a Swiss secret agents, so that goes. This woman can't be married or have children or pets, and she's probably not over 50, so that eliminates some more...
  • *the crowd from Sherlock's point of view. people disappear as he excludes them*
  • John: No, you can't possibly narrow it all down.
  • Sherlock: Not all of it, probably, but most. You may have noticed that I've been studding dress catalogs lately?
  • John: oh yeah, I though you were developing a new interest.
  • Sherlock: an undercover agent could never afford to buy an expensive dress, While most women in these sort of events are dying to show off their wealth. I've memorized catalogs of all top designers in fashion. that woman over there?
  • *cut to woman in a white dress with flowers pattern*
  • Sherlock: Dior, 10,000 dollars. No way it could be her. same applies for 20 other woman in this room.
  • *a major amount of women vanishes from the crowd*
  • John: Sherlock, there's no need to make excuses. If you want to look at dresses, I won't judge you.
  • Sherlock: Shut up. and now for some final adjustments...
  • *captions appear over the remain women. "OCD nail biter" - gone. "desperately in love with an older man" - gone. "chronic back problems" - gone. more and more women pop out of the crowd*
  • Sherlock: we are down to four options.
  • *four women, in different locations around the hall, remain frozen mid-action*
  • Sherlock: time to act.
  • John: Okay, what do we do?
  • Sherlock: *takes the champagne salver from the table and hands it to confused John, and then takes the shrimps salver* I need you to go over to these two women, blonde-in-blue-dress in the center, and the one in the black dress and long hair. I'll go to the other two.
  • John: what, and - offer them a drink?
  • Sherlock: yes. and look closely. try to see if any of them acts suspicious in any way. we'll meet back here with our findings.
  • John: wait - "act suspicious" ? what do you mean?
  • Sherlock: anything strange. even the slightest gesture.
  • John: How the hell am I supposed to know your definition of strange?
  • Sherlock: you'll know it when you see it. Now go, quick!
  • *Sherlock rashes off before John can say anything. frustrated, John sighs then starts walking towards the first woman, carefully trying to balance the salver in his hands*
  • John: *mutters* of course he had to give me the harder one...
  • *as he reaches the woman, who had just had a laugh with the the man she was talking to, she turns around and notices him*
  • John: fancy a drink?
  • woman: oh, thank you! *takes a glass from the salver and turns back to continue her conversation*
  • *John continues to walk towards the woman in the black dress, with a mane of wavy dark hair that goes down her waist. The woman is standing with her back to him, so he doesn't see her face*
  • John: would you like a drink?
  • *The woman doesn't answer. then, without making the slightest turn towards him, she slowly sands out her hand and leave it hanging, awaiting.
  • John: *tensed, places a glass in her hand. still not saying a word, the woman gently rests her hand back down.
  • nervous, John turns back and spots Sherlock at the table. He hurries to get there, relieved to put down the salver.*
  • Sherlock: *eagerly* did you find anything?
  • John: *nods* it's the one in the black dress. She didn't say a word. she didn't even move, I couldn't see her face.
  • Sherlock: Perfect. *quirky smile* now, you wait here. I'm going to escort her out of the room, wait two minutes then follow me.
  • *imperturbable, Sherlock starts pacing slowly over to the woman. It appears she doesn't notice, but something in her back stiffens. then, as Sherlock gets closer, she starts walking away, with measured steps, towards the exit.
  • Sherlock picks up his pace, almost unnoticeably, but not to the woman, who switches to a fast walk. John realizes something is wrong. Then she begins to run and time slows down, as her hand let go of the champagne glass and the liquid seems to float out in the air.
  • the glass shatters on the ground, and time turns back to normal as Sherlock bursts out running, followed immediately by John. People gasp and turn their heads as the three rush through the crowd. "excuse me," John automatically says as he pushes people away, trying to reach Sherlock and the woman, but they've already stormed out of the hall doors.*
  • *after chasing her through a few corridors Sherlock finally reaches the woman. He grabs her by the shoulder and turns her around.
  • Irene Adler: Hello mister Holmes.
  • *Sherlock flinches as he meets the face looking back at him. panting from the chase, he stares at Irene with concealed shock, agitated, as Irene stares back, her face showing the same mix of painful feelings.*
  • *theme music starts playing*.
An Unlikely Friendship
  • Mary: *opens her front door*
  • Molly: I... I could kill a man and not get caught. Or a woman. No one suspects the quiet ones. One girl’s night, a well-timed bit of aconite in your drink, “oh I forgot my favorite cherry jumper at work, can we stop off round the corner at Bart's?” A few quick slices and you’re so much medical waste.
  • Mary: … … …
  • Molly: *on a roll* Sherlock could be experimenting on your liver by lunch. It’s the largest organ, best to get it out of the way first. He’d never know the difference. He never gives back half the body parts I give him - I'm afraid to ask honestly, but they'd never be found.
  • Mary: *carefully neutral* His Nibs finally told you the truth about who shot him, then?
  • Molly: Oh. Well no, not actually. I suspect he’d never rat you out. But c’mon, Sherlock Holmes is shot face to face and he doesn't solve the case? I know him better than that. He's protecting someone. Protecting you.
  • Mary: *nods* He’s been not solving that particular case for nearly a year now. How long have you suspected?
  • Molly: Um… Nearly a year now, I suppose.
  • Mary: *hand subtly out of sight behind the doorframe* Why now, then? I'm not pregnant anymore, so you thought you'd have a go?
  • Molly: Wha-- no. The point is that I'm not going to “have a go.” I’m not suicidal; I certainly wouldn't warn you if I was. Quiet one, remember? I'm here because, well… you’re just so lovely, aren't you? You’re a mum now, and you and John are so happy, and you're funny and clever. I wish I didn't like you half so much. I can't hold this weight anymore. I know, Mary. I know that you shot Sherlock. I know that Sherlock and John both forgive you. I know that he’s alive, and that he absolutely adores you and he has his reasons, so I… I forgive you too. For what it’s worth, I forgive you.
  • Mary: *relaxes* It's worth more than you might imagine. I'm starting to get why Sherlock likes you, Molly Hooper.
  • Molly: Yeah well, you too. I...g’night. *turns to go*
  • Mary: Be Rosie’s godmother!
  • Molly: What?!
  • Mary: Be Rosie’s godmum. I quite like you too. There aren't many people in the world who know what I am and still like me. Three by my count. Four if you count Rosamunde. And I know a certain consulting detective who wouldn't mind an excuse to stand in front of a church with you, whatever he pretends. Molly - we ladies who could kill a man and not get caught, we ladies who choose not to everyday - we should stick together.

anonymous asked:

As a television show, sherlock is 10x better than elementary. The story is better, the adaptation of characters is better, it's cinematically better, truer to plot which is always nice, acting is better. As someone who is less than a year from going into television as a profession, i can tell you in many ways Sherlock as done a way better job with Sherlock Holmes than Elementary has. If you only gripe with it is that the fandom isn't great, don't pay attention to them. It's as simple as that!

While Sherlock does have it’s strong points (I’m not denying that it doesn’t because that would be stupid– the cinematography is phenomenal and the production value is insane, probably because they only have 3 episodes to edit and produce), I feel like, as a singular series, Elementary has done a better job at fleshing out the characters than Sherlock has.

Let’s run this character by character:

  • Sherlock: Elementary Sherlock is a viciously human character. He has glaring flaws (like drug addiction and a history of abusive relationships) that he deals with in an actual human way. BBC Sherlock is up on a pedestal: we’re meant to idolize him, not identify with him. Other than good looks and charm(??? I think he’s mostly an asshole and charming only when it suits him), BBC Sherlock has given me zero reason to be invested in his character. He is very good at his job and has many good qualities, but he treats people like shit, even his “friends”. Constant emotional manipulation is his norm. Elementary Sherlock is not 100% empathetic, but he’s developing a sense of true emotional empathy over the course of the series, which is incredible. Do you think BBC Sherlock would volunteer to be a sponsor or donate blankets to the homeless? No. He’d make an assholish comment about how it’s too much bother and how other people are idiots.
  • Watson: Ohhhh where to begin. Let’s for the sake of argument not include the fact that she’s a woc (even though that’s SO FUCKING GODDAMN IMPORTANT) and just focus on her as a character. She’s simply a more developed character than BBC Watson. She has been consistent in wanting to be a detective and giving back since day 1. She’s actually making an attempt to broaden her horizons and become a well rounded person. BBC Watson does very little, let’s be real. He follows Sherlock around and is a sounding board/insult receiver, and occasionally does something vaguely medical to remind everyone that he’s a doctor. Or a soldier. Who knows? Not me. We know he was in Afghanistan, had a sister, and is now married. That’s it. Elementary Watson volunteers at homeless shelters because her biological father is schizophrenic. She turned into a sober companion from a doctor because of paralyzing guilt. She is a caregiver, but not an enabler (constantly inflating Sherlock’s ego by reminding him of how amazing he is, etc). She is constantly not only an amazing support system for someone with a habit of drug abuse, but also a damn good detective IN HER OWN RIGHT.
  • Various supporting characters: This isn’t even a competition. BBC Sherlock has one or two recurring cast members and we know almost nothing about them (Sherlock never remember’s Lestrade’s name haha! He’s too self absorbed to even spend a thought on someone he considers a friend! Anderson likes dinosaurs! Who the fuck cares about any of them?? No one! We know virtually NOTHING about them other than what fandom has invented). Elementary has Marcus Bell, a skilled detective who has a brother and was framed for murder by his ex-girlfriend, and has a really fabulous ongoing storyline where he got shot and it was Sherlock’s fault, and they are dealing with the healing of their relationship in a COMPLETELY REALISTIC WAY. No one’s saying, “Oh, we have to forgive him because he’s just Sherlock and that’s how he is,” and Sherlock’s not saying “Oh, it’s fine, he’ll get over it,” he ACTUALLY CARES. They also have Thomas Gregson, a not-cardboard-cutout of an old white police captain who has an actual reason to trust Sherlock (because they’ve worked together before). He has a wife and children. Does Lestrade have children? A girlfriend? We don’t know! We see five minutes of him an episode and then he’s never spoken about again! Half of the shit we know about these characters the fandom made up!
  • Then there’s the background cast, like the members of Sherlock’s homeless network whose NAMES WE ACTUALLY KNOW AND GET TO SEE, the young man he’s sponsoring as part of his AA program, JAMIE MORIARTY WHO IS THE MOST FLAWLESS VILLAIN TO EVER GRACE TV IN YEARS, and a bunch of others I can’t think of right now because I’m so tired but I just can’t sleep.
  • Oh yeah and let’s not forget the SHERLOCK WATSON RELATIONSHIP, which wasn’t haphazardly slapped together with no explanation from episode one, but was built up realistically over the whole first half of a season. They had an arc. They built up trust over time. It’s so fucking important to have that in a story. It’s impossible to have that kind of development in BBC Sherlock, because they’re flash over substance. They like looking shiny and stirring up a buzz over whateverthefuck they’re doing this week, but at the end there’s no real development. No one comes away any different or changes. It’s a flashy story, that’s all.

The point is, I can watch BBC Sherlock and be entertained for an hour and a half, then turn it off and not care. About any of them. Because they don’t give me a real reason to be invested. They portray them as interesting, slap on a few jokes and dry humor (I’m not even going to touch the blatant misogyny in some episodes because it’ll just turn into Moffat wank and no one has time for that especially me), and I’ll enjoy watching it, but that’s it. I watch out of habit, not any genuine affection. And that’s not great.

what if bbc sherlock was a fluffy rom com about sherlock and his boyfriend getting into all sorts of shenanigans

Meet John Watson, your typical not gay Army Doctor

Meet Sherlock Holmes, your…not so typical Consulting Detective

With a little help from Cupid a.k.a Mike

The two begin their whirlwind journey together

But will the Detective get more than he originally deduced?

from the makers of Mystrade: Love/Cake Relationship

comes JOHNLOCK the movie, out in cinemas 2014

anonymous asked:

I don't want to be disrespectful, but I don't understand your issue with sherlock and "queerbaiting." I'm all for representation in media, however, realistically not everyone is gay. John has said multiple times in the show that he isn't gay, and he was married to a woman. Two men are allowed to be close friends without having to satisfy a tumblr-worthy homoerotic fantasy. As I said, I fully support representation, but just because two characters aren't gay for each other doesn't make a show bad

There are many things I’d like to unpack in your ask, nonny.

It’s difficult to know where to begin. I’ll start by saying I’m glad you agree that queer representation is important. So let’s start there, with the textual representation of queer people in Sherlock.

The characters who are textually queer in Sherlock include: 

-Moriarty (confirmed most recently in TFP when he jokes about his bodyguard having ‘more stamina, but is less caring in the afterglow’),
-Irene Adler (established as gay during the Battersea scene with John, in which to his assertion that he’s not gay, she replies, “well I am. Look at us both.” More on John later. She also nonconsensually drugs and whips Sherlock, which I think is extremely out of character for a professional in the kink community)
-Culverton Smith (who has an honest to god hard on when he’s suffocating Sherlock and breathes his fear of death in and says in the most rapturous voice, “lovely”),
-Eurus, (who suggests that the victim of her brutal rape could have been a man or a woman and she wouldn’t have noticed)
-and to some extent Magnussen (who creepily kisses Sherlock’s hands, among other weird bodily power things he does, like flicking John’s face).

Perhaps you’ve noticed that this is a list of villains, all of whom are queer coded, and most of whom to some extent have the hots for Sherlock and violate Sherlock’s bodily autonomy when he is otherwise incapacitated (other than Eurus, because equating queerness with incest would be a little much even for this show).

So for our queer representation on this show we get 6, count em, 6 queer monsters, 6 queer psychopaths.

Forgive me if I’m less than thrilled about this.

BUT I was willing to overlook this, I was willing to forgive this, because to my view, the plot was inching forward towards a realistic portrayal of queer love—a nuanced and hard won happy ending, a love narrative that would speak to the complexities of human nature and queer identity.

Let’s turn to that question for a while. Queerness does not exist in a vacuum. It exists within a highly oppressive heteronormative framework. And so when you tell me, John has said many times that he isn’t gay, I say unto you: so did I.

My only way of surviving a homophobic environment was to swallow whole the lie that I was straight, to try as hard as I could to believe I was straight. This is compulsory heterosexuality. The result of this doublethink was that I had no interest in romance or sex. But I publically feigned interest in men for many years. I worked hard to convince myself that I was straight and normative. I was trapped deep in a subconscious closet. We often talk about the closet being something that we know we’re in and we want to be out of it. But I tell you, I honest to god thought I was straight. I thought I would marry a man and have children and live in the suburbs. As it turns out, none of those things have happened, thank god. But I spent many years of my life telling people I wasn’t gay.

By the way re: John and his marriage to a woman, being married to someone of the opposite sex has virtually nothing to do with whether you’re gay or not in a world where visible gayness is met with violence, death threats (my gf has literally been chased with a knife), rape threats (this has happened at least three times that I can think of off the top of my head), judgment, discrimination, and hate. Also, many people, like a younger version of myself once did, believe that they are straight and do their best to act accordingly, including marrying someone and finding out later that they were wrong in doing so. All this being said, John could easily be bi or otherwise queer. Suggesting that his marriage to Mary should preclude any and all attraction to men or taking that as proof of straightness is frankly biphobic and erases the bi experience.

But let’s move away from the personal significancer of a John Watson coming out/discovering himself narrative, and towards addressing your other comments.

Regarding your comment, “Two men are allowed to be close friends without having to satisfy a tumblr-worthy homoerotic fantasy”: From my perspective, summing up what the Johnlock fandom does as “tumblr-worthy homoerotic fantasy” is infantilizing and doesn’t give full credit to the depth of thought and nuance that goes into these transformative works.

I can name on one hand the pieces of mainstream media that tell a story like mine. Blue is the warmest colour is one, Carol is another.

The work these fanfiction authors are doing for representation by taking mainstream stories and queeriung them is monumental. But it is still not mainstream media representation. And we deserve that.

And now we come to the queerbaiting portion of my response.

Tropes are what tell us what kinds of archetypal stories are being invoked in the telling of a new story. In TV, there are many different kinds of tropes: plot tropes, lighting tropes, musical tropes, dialogue tropes, camera angle tropes, etc. For example a long lingering gaze in television codes romance for us. It’s a romantic trope. 

For more on tropes, here are some useful resources:



As a culture, we tell a lot of straight white love stories that end happily. Most of our romantic tv tropes come from these stories.

As a culture, we don’t tell many gay stories, and usually when we do, they are tragic and someone dies (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BuryYourGays). A common trope in stories about lesbians that I hate is that one woman leaves the other for a man—and that’s supposed to be a happy ending.

The point is, the filming and story telling tropes of romance are all over this show and these characters. Close shots of them gazing into each other’s eyes, the soft looks they give each other when they think the other won’t notice, the soft lighting accompanying these scenes, the dialogue, especially in the scene in ASiP at Angelo’s. As an exercise, try imagining that scene if Sherlock were a gorgeous woman.

JOHN: So you’ve got a boyfriend then?


JOHN: Right. Okay. You’re unattached. Like me.  Fine.  Good.
(modified from this transcript )

And then John licks his lips.

This is where it becomes queerbaiting. When the BBC tweets “Sherlock’s in love, but with who?” in order to promote s4, in which Sherlock’s romantic life is not shown to be developing at all, that is queer baiting. And it’s cruel.

More on queerbaiting:



Basically, the idea of gayness between Sherlock and John is a running joke on the show, a joke which has no pay off. Perhaps your sexuality has never been thrown in your face, or laughed at. Perhaps you have never been threatened violence or stalked or whistled at. But I have experienced all of this, just for holding my girlfriend’s hand in public.

So in sum, we have a show using romantic film tropes in order to make a joke about my sexuality, a joke at the expense of the marginalized.

Of course I’m upset and angry.

If this is a show about an epic platonic male friendship, that’s fine.

(Epic platonic male friendship is the oldest, most done narrative in existence, by the way. This is an excellent if somewhat dry book about the cultural shift in the twelfth century from tales of epic brotherly love/devotion between knights to tales of chaste courtly love between men and aloof women).

But in that case, stop it with the romantic TV tropes, stop teasing queer fans on twitter, stop making homophobic “no homo” jokes for the straight audience to have a laugh at my expense, and for god’s sake, stop writing all of your villains as queer coded psychopathic monsters. Was that really necessary??? It’s homophobic and it’s bad, lazy writing, and we deserve better representation than that. We deserve more than psychotic gay villains and desperately unspoken hidden subtext and winks and nudges on twitter from the creators. We deserve real representation, no hinting, no winking, no implying. Real, textual queer representation.

My last comment to you, nonny, is this: Indeed, not everyone is gay. And neither is everyone straight. I’m tired of never seeing myself or any part of my identity reflected in mainstream media.

For more information about media’s skewed representation of the world, see this GLAAD report.