you can say that to everyone except sherlock

Certain Things - Song-based / Mixed Requests

Requested by anon: Sherlock x reader where Sherlock is in love with the reader but is too afraid to say it. and one day the reader overhears him talking to John about it. (lots of fluff)
& anon: Sherlock x reader fic based on the song Certain things by James Arthur. Like Sherlock doesn’t understand his feelings after towards her after spending time with her and he just notices small things about her until he finally understands his feelings. With just a lot of fluff in it?
& anon: Can I make a Sherlock request where the reader falls asleep on Sherlock’s couch and they aren’t really dating yet and he is really sweet and gentle with her? Like he drapes a blanket over her, or brushes the hair out of her eyes Agh!
& anon: Sherlock X reader fanfic where Sherlock accepts his feelings for reader and he tries to impress her but he asks John first so John tries to prank him and tell him to say a bunch of cheesy pick up lines? 
& anon:  Hey can I request a Sherlock imagine with the reader where he asks her out for the first time and he’s super super nervous and she’s kind of insecure about it?? With a lot of fluff too? 

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Word count: 3,703

Warnings: Un-edited.

A/N: I craved to write this ever since I found a way to mix all of the requests. I love it dearly, and I hope you do too. Also, if there are any grammar mistake (or any kind of mistake, really) I’m sorry, today was exhausting (and English isn’t my first language so…) but I was so happy I felt like writing something.


Originally posted by nothingsgonnachangemyworld

The noise of the bomb was so loud Sherlock could only hear a high pitched and elongated peep. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion out of a sudden. The bomb had exploded, yes, but Sherlock could clearly see the car it had been trapped in exploding along. The shattered glasses flying in every direction, and the few civilians nearby being pushed by the impulse of the explosion. He turned to his right, finding a very concerned John covering his face with his arms.

Then he turned to his left, and found (Y/N) with her eyes fixed on the explosion. Everything moved slower. Her knees were hurt, and she was dirty; her hair was messy and her clothes were covered with both sweat and dirt. She wasn’t trying to cover her face like John; instead, she was turning to look at Sherlock.

Their eyes met for a split second, but it felt like bewitching ages to them. They were worried about the other; laying on the ground as the bomb they had frantically looked for exploded – they were too late.

He extended his hand, trying to reach hers unconsciously. (Y/N) took his hand without hesitation and Sherlock pulled her closer to him, not caring if her legs got scratched with the ground, because it would be nothing compared to the damage of being unprotected from the flying glasses.

Once in his arms, Sherlock covered her face and upper body protectively against his chest. His face nuzzled over her hair and he shut his eyes tightly. His arms were wrapped around her body, and even when he was too exposed, he felt save.

The world went back to its regular speed. The bomb blew away many passer-by’s and the windows from the nearest buildings. The pieces of glass got spread all over, including Sherlock and (Y/N)’s hair. The pieces of the car that didn’t turn into small pieces flew away, hitting many other innocents in the process. It was a real mess, yet, it could’ve been worse.

The precious seconds went by quickly. The bomb had exploded and the consequences had been severe, but at least (Y/N) and John were fine and that was all Sherlock cared about.

After the impact, when they could hear again the silence of the street, (Y/N) pulled slightly away to look at her surroundings. There were bodies all around, but they were all alive. Sherlock was staring at her, and when (Y/N) turned to look at him she saw something she had never seen in him before: He was worried.

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February 19th, 2019

Haven’t written in my blog for a while but I felt like now was a good time to start it up again. You see, the strangest thing happened to me.I received a Valentine’s card in the post six days ago. A Valentine’s card from my three year old daughter. A Valentine’s card in a red envelope. It had little love heart stickers dotted all over it and pink glitter spelling out my name.Now Rosie’s pretty smart ( for a three year old). Even Sherlock thinks she has masses of potential. He tells me that all the time. However, she still hasn’t mastered the art of formally posting a letter. She also doesn’t usually address me as John. Someone therefore had to have helped her to make and post the Valentine’s card in question. The list of suspects for me to choose from was very limited.

Mrs Hudson

The Pope
The Queen

This is the order I questioned them in. Just joking….I never bothered asking Mycroft.

Every one of the real suspects provided good reasons/alibis as to why it wasn’t them. All except one.

Can you guess which one?

When I got round to questioning suspect number four, he ( like the rest of them) was adamant that it simply wasn’t him. He casually suggested that it must have been ‘Hudders’ and she’d just forgotten in her old age. Well, he actually blamed something else entirely but I don’t want to repeat that here! Let’s just say he blamed her pressure point and leave it at that! Anyway, after Sherlock started frantically finger pointing in everyone else’s direction, I knew for definite that it was him.So I lied to him.I lied to the worlds only consulting detective and he fell for it hook, line and sinker. I told him that I had Greg (Lestrade) run the card for fingerprints. His face! His actual face when I said that! He actually asked me if Rosie’s finger prints were in the police system! When I started laughing he didn’t join in. He was being serious.

When I think about it, I don’t know why I asked the others first. It should have been obvious who helped Rosie from the moment the postman handed me the card. Sherlock’s always doing arts and crafts with her. He secretly loves glitter. Mrs Hudson is forever moaning about the amounts of glitter being sucked up into the good Hoover. Sometimes I’ll get in after a long hard shift at the surgery and when I enter Baker Street, there they are, my daughter and the ‘mad man’, lying there on the sofa, sprawled out, their exhausted sleeping faces caked in all the sparkling colours of the rainbow.

The last time Rosie and Sherlock had the paints out, Mycroft had shown up unexpectedly. Rosie accidentally tipped a red paint pot over his fancy shoes and Sherlock gave her a biscuit as a reward. When Rosie toddled over to Mycroft with the splatter painting she had made and offered it to him ( her version of a sincere apology) Sherlock just glared at him until Mycroft reluctantly accepted it. Sherlock took his hesitation as a personal insult to my daughter’s artistic abilities. God help Rosie’s future teachers! I could only laugh as Sherlock demanded that his brother leave, whilst mumbling something under his breath about the painting being better than some of the pretentious rubbish Mycroft had on his walls at home. Funny because it’s actually true!

Anyway, you might still be wondering what happened after my finger print lie forced a confession from Sherlock.He was affronted about the whole situation obviously. Couldn’t look me in the eye. I was (admittedly) being quite wicked about the whole thing.I really enjoyed making him squirm. However, as he gradually became more uncomfortable, I almost felt bad…almost…

I asked him why he had written John on the front of the card. He looked at me with utter confusion before stating that it was in actual fact my name and what else would he possibly have put.When I reminded him that Rosie’s name for me is dad, he looked even more affronted.When I questioned him on his use of pink glitter he became incredulous.These were his actual words…direct quote……

“Really, John! Can you give your daughter no credit for this situation? It was the colour she chose when I asked her to pick one for you. She also helped me sprinkle it. If you don’t believe me then have Gavin dust the glitter tube for fingerprints.Surely, as my willing accomplice, Rosie must take her share of the blame in this!I don’t know why this has grown into such a big issue.Why this card annoys you so much. It was meant to make you smile. You have been so sad recently and I concluded it was because you missed having companionship in your life, as you stopped dating after Mary and it’s been three years.I researched this extensively before deciding on the best course of action.A card on an occasion like this, from ones child, is meant to make the recipient feel valued, appreciated and loved.It is not meant to make them launch a full scale inquiry!Does it disturb you because I made an error and wrote John?I’m sorry for the Freudian slip but perhaps I was trying to remind you that Rosie is not the only person left on this earth that deeply loves and values you.”

Amazing that he can remember what he says word for word really,otherwise I couldn’t have put this in the blog. I was too busy having a complete moment of clarity/internal crisis , to pay full attention to what he was saying.There he was, standing there pleading his case like an accused would to the jury, and all I could think about was that he had just admitted how much he loved and valued me.

It worried me that he actually thought I was viewing the whole situation negatively. He couldn’t see how absolutely moved I was that he’d taken the time to help my daughter do something like that for me. Nobody else had even thought of doing that. For all of their goodness, friendship and humanity, not one of my other friends realised that I was getting to a point were I actually needed to be reminded that I was loved. Not one person except Sherlock Holmes understood that.

Sherlock was standing there giving his big drama queen spiel and all I could think about, was if he knew exactly how much he was loved and valued. Did he know that everything he had done ( particularly in the last three years) was appreciated. The man who stayed up all night and shot holes in the wall, was now ( mostly) going to bed at reasonable hours so he could get up and give Rosie her breakfast in the morning if I had to work a nightshift. The man who had eyeballs in his fridge and forensic slides everywhere, suddenly had spaces full of stuffed toys in his living room and he had willingly put them there.The man who would spend hours on his science of deduction website was now cutting it short to watch YouTube videos about sewing, cooking and how to do braiding, buns and French plaits.I suddenly, in that moment, needed him to know how much he was appreciated for all of that. The only problem with that plan was that there was no time to find the pink glitter and Rosie was down for her afternoon nap. So I had to improvise. I had been moving steadily closer to him during his rant and was mere inches from him when insanity finally took over.

I kissed him.

My lips merged with his, my arms wrapped around his back and I clung on for dear life, fearing that this would be the one and only time I would be permitted to completely open myself up and to show this man exactly what he meant to me. To show him the depth of feeling that he could stir in me at the most unexpected of moments.

As the lustful haze from my wreck less decision cleared, and just before the guilt of my actions began to form, I fully expected to be pushed away and reprimanded for selfishly violating him and his trust.I expected to be looked at indifferently and told in no uncertain terms that he was still married to his work. I did not expect his hands to find their way to my neck, or his tongue to be the one to push itself into my mouth. I imagined the noises from him to be protests rather than the guttural and raw moans of my name filling my ears in bursts of pink glitter. I never expected his body to be completely receptive to my touch and willing to press itself so intimately and tightly against my own. I expected it to be over in 30 seconds, not reaching well over five minutes of nervous fumbling and slow caresses.

When we finally did manage to prise ourselves apart, the room was filled with stunned silence. Neither of us had saw this coming. We spent a good five mins just catching our breaths and staring at one another, trying to work out how we had ended up at this point. It was Sherlock who broke the silence first. He started laughing.He was laughing the way he had done in our very first night together. It felt surreal.It wasn’t the time for laughing, not really.We were the dearest of friends. Our lives together and what we did with them mattered to a great many people. We had just decided to gamble with those lives and things weren’t ever going to be the same again. How could they be? No matter how much we would try and convince ourselves, we had just drew a very final line under the last ten years. What happened from now on would be a new beginning. It had to be. I didn’t feel like laughing was the appropriate response to that. Confusion and being scared shitless was the appropriate response to that. However, Sherlock’s laughter filled the room around us.It was infectious.I began to laugh as well.It was ridiculous.We should have been talking.We should have been working through what just happened.Instead we were standing in the kitchen of 221B Baker Street laughing our heads off.We had nearly ripped the clothes from each other’s backs, that how passionate we had gotten only ten mins before, and now we were standing at a distance with our laughs mingling in the air between us.

We didn’t have the talk that night.

Mrs Hudson appeared to tell us that Lestrade had tried to phone several times but there was no answer. That’s when the laughing quickly stopped. The game was on. We could never discuss this whilst the game was on.

Two days later and the case was solved.We still hadn’t talked about what happened in our kitchen.I went straight to the clinic after we left the crime scene and Sherlock agreed to go home and see to Rosie.It was a further 16 hours before I entered Baker Street again.

A similar and comforting sight met me when I emerged from the entrance of the flat into the living room.There was Sherlock lying sprawled on the couch, cradling Rosie in his arms.Face full of glitter.Faint scratch on his neck from were I had clawed a bit too possessively two nights before. The scene felt normal and abnormal all at the same time.

I made my way into the kitchen and was met with a tea tray of biscuits, a vase with a single red rose and a red envelope with dad/John written on it.Intrigued, I opened it and this is what was inside…

Dear Dad,

Sherlock helped me to make the last card because he felt that it was very important that you know how much I love and appreciate you. I think that you are the most wonderful father and that you have a very fetching name.Thats why I asked him to help me sprinkle it in pink glitter on the card.
However, this card is not from me. I am just helping Sherlock write it because he’s useless with feelings. After discussing it with him, I’ve come to the conclusion that he is completely in love with you. Has been for years.He was just too scared to admit it to himself up until now.He wants to spend the rest of his life with you. He doesn’t want to waste anymore time. He knows this changes everything and he’s glad of it.Quite frankly ( if you want my opinion and Hudders opinion regarding this situation) you’ve been living with one another for years anyway, so you both might as well get some sex from this situation. What do you say?

Love Rosie x

P.s if you agree to this then come into the living room and wake Sherlock up with a kiss.

I started laughing again.I started laughing again and then I kissed him.

Why have I bothered to tell you all this? It’s not a real case after all.So why have I chosen this very intimate story about our lives together, to be the first thing I’ve blogged about for years? Well, It’s because I think it’s about time that the world knew the secret that’s been kept for a very long time. The Secret of Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock Holmes is so much more than the legend that’s been built up around him by myself and the media.The Valentine’s story is a symbol of who he really is.The heart as well as the brain. Not a freak, not a sociopath. Sherlock Holmes is the man who commands the whole of Scotland Yard one moment and then covers himself in pink glitter the next, all because my daughter demands it. Sherlock Holmes is the man who prides himself on being the smartest person in the room, but will mortify himself at the drop of a hat, all to show me that I am loved.

That’s who he really is.

I am so grateful that is who he really is.

I love him because that is who he really is.


“What do you think?

Sherlock had been perched on the seat next to John the whole time he was reading his blogger’s newest creation. The only indication of how affected he was came from the roughness of his voice when he finally decided to reply.

“Thank you John.Thank you.Though always remember that I would be nothing without my blogger.”

Sherlock bent down and kissed John on the head before deciding to speak again.

“You know you can’t actually post it though, don’t you.”

John shut the laptop over and sat it next to them on the couch.He turned to Sherlock and worryingly pulled the younger man’s hand into his own.

“Why not?”

Sherlock began to slowly run his fingers up and down John’s wrist as he traced circles on his skin.It reminded him of all the times previously that their hands had touched.In friendship, tragedy, anger and love. He was eventually pulled out of his thoughts by the soldier who was nervously licking his lips whilst impatiently staring at him.

“Mary was right, John .Who we really are, doesn’t matter. Not to them.Not to the ones outside Baker Street that read about our cases and sit in our client’s chairs.The only people it matters to are us, our friends and our Rosie.What you have just written is truly wonderful to me but …”

“it’s private…”

“Yes, John…”

“Okay, Sherlock. Okay.I won’t publish it.”

John lifted his laptop, opened the tab and began typing a sentence before clicking a button on the computer that allowed the draft copy of his blog to start printing. It was now Sherlock’s turn to wait patiently for John to explain what he was doing.

“Before I delete it from existence, I’m firstly going to print it out, frame it and put it in our bedroom. For our eyes only.It’s my valentine’s gift to you.”

Sherlock excitedly pulled the paper from the printer and couldn’t help but notice an obvious change to the piece that he had read only moments before.

“You changed the title, John”

“Yes. Seemed more fitting.”

“The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes.That might be your best case title yet, John!”

John grabbed Sherlock by the hand and began leading him towards their bedroom.

“Let’s go pick a spot for this.”

“Could take a while, Doctor Watson.There are a few positions I would like to test out

‘Oh,believe me, I’m counting on that, Mr.Holmes.”


Okay okay, So we all know how Anderson represents the Sherlock fandom in TEH with his crazy theories on how Sherlock is still alive and how he survived the Fall. We also know that for the most part, everyone thought he was crazy. Kind of like how everyone thinks the tjlc-ers are also crazy.

Well, here, think about this for a second. 

In the beginning of TEH, everyone thinks Sherlock really took the fall. In other words, Sherlock is dead. He killed himself. Everyone believes this. Everyone, that is, except Anderson. 

Anderson is dead set on the fact that Sherlock is still alive and out there. And like I said and like you know, everyone thinks he’s crazy. But in the end, Anderson turns out to be right. After around two years of being told he’s going insane, Sherlock is alive.

Now, think about S4. 

For the most part, I think we all can agree, S4 was a disaster. What with the plotholes, the plot itself, and various other aspects, you could pretty much say that Mofftiss effectively killed the show. 

Fans who thought that this “groundbreaking” season would bring them canon Johnlock were massively disappointed. People left the fandom, people lost faith.

And then there were the others who held their faith. The Andersons. Us. 
We still think it’s going to happen. That’s because we know it will happen. We are the Andersons. And in the end, we will be right. Johnlock is endgame, and I don’t care how long it will take for us to be proven right. 

But that’s just my opinion, and if you don’t agree with me, so be it. After all, I haven’t even come close to being in this fandom as long as some of you guys. And even if you do disagree, I still respect your opinion.

Moriarty Imagine - One dance

Pairing : Moriarty x Girl Reader (I know he’s gay don’t @ me)
Warning : none or heat in the room
Fandom : Sherlock

« He will be there tonight » say Sherlock, his finger crossed on his favorite chair. « What am I supposed to do in this? »
« You know » he gesture with his hands
« For god sake »
« Just, you know, charm him, distract him.. »
« Why am I doing it refresh my mind »
Sherlock stopped and put his face extremely close to yours, your nose almost touching « It’s the only way » he stand up and put his dressing gown correctly « He’s a sociopath but he’s a gentleman »
« I’m so relieve right now »
« You’ll be in listening don’t you worry »
« And then what? »
« I’ve got it under control »
« You know » you stand up and catch your bag « it would be much more EASY IF YOU TOLD ME THE ALL PLAN »
« This man reads mind, I can’t ». You sight « Well i’m off »
« Where are you going »
You opened the door of the 221B flat « find me a descent dress to charm a sociopath » you shout waving your hand and closed the door behind you.

At 7p.m you enter the flat, Watson checking his tie in the mirror
« Ah Y/N you look lovely »
« You too John, is he ready? »
« Yes » scream Sherlock from his room

« Hat? » ask Watson
Sherlock give him a bored look and then present you his hand, you took the micro and put it in your left hear.

Out of the cab you walk into the magnificent house, big names well dressed everywhere.
« Sir your name please » request a man in the hall with a notebook in front of him. « Holmes »
« Holmes like… »
« Yes that’s right Gibbons, thank you » Mycroft appear behind him.
We all follow him and took a glass of champagne on the way.
« So it is you? » he looked at you, all the way. « Are you sure she’s his type? »
« How the fuck am I supposed to know Moriarty’s type of girl… person. »
« Quiet sherlock » warn him Watson
« Ok Y/N are you sure of you? »
You left your long dress a little and show a knife holding at your thight , Mycroft smile extra hard. “Very James Bondish” comment Watson
« She’s definitely his type »

You walk alone the huge dancing room, trying to catch him in the crowd, he was as quiet as a shadow. You put your ass on a chair and grab your third glass of champ. You murmured to yourself « I can’t find him »
« Keep looking » respond Sherlock in your hear.
Your turn from your chair.
« Easy » a low but manly voice stop you. A little smirk on his face, James bloody Moriarty was looking extremely good in a black suit with a white bow.
« Oh i’m so clumsy » you said, with a little laugh “Oh my..” comment Sherlock.
The song change a little and he offers you his hand, you grab it he lead you to the center of the room.
You put your hand on his shoulder and he place his on your waist. In a soft and light foot, you two start dancing in perfect coordination.
« So who are you with tonight »
« Can’t a lady can be here by his own? »
« I know everyone in this room sweetheart, except you »
« flirt with him » say sherlock, watson need some time
« And you wanted to know me more then? »
« Stop me if i’m pushing it too far » he say with an other marvelous smile
« Pleasure all mine »
« Did you enjoyed your evening? »
« Champagne make it better »
you casually reply
« Oh, is there a place you want to be other than this, with a boyfriend maybe? »
You smirk « no »
« Are you sure? »
You left a eyebrow, he search your face « he his analyzing you » yelled sherlock, « say something »
« I feel like there is someone.. someone hiding » he look deep into your eyes, still dancing in circle, and for a minute you couldn’t say a word, completely amazed by him
« Hiddin’?, that’s an odd things to say » you cough
« Is that so? »
He makes you turn and squeeze you harder, turning his head to your left, his mouth close to your face, your heart beating real fast. « It’s no good » say sherlock “move” put your all body was his possession.
Moriarty took a strand of your hair and put it behind your ear, he whisper « Even for you Sherlock this is such a lame move, come on » his voice makes you shiver. 
« leave » said then Sherlock.
He then, face you again and you feel his hand sliding down your legs.
« I’m not even speaking of the knife you have attached on your leg » your body shiver even more at his touch and you blame yourself, and Sherlock, he was not to underestimate, not now and he will never be.
« Are you aware of the razor blade I’m hidding in my bra ?» you fire back
« Oh sweetheart, you don’t wear a bra » he said with a moan.
The song end and he release your hand and put his in his pocket casually.
« A pleasure miss y/l/n , my salutation to Mr Holmes »
With a last and charming look, he turn away into the crowd.

« That was no good » you heard Watson said.

Six (Paragraph) Sunday

“Ah-ha!” Sherlock said, and pointed at the page. “It says that adults will be assigned to groups of four per room except in the case of a child with both parents attending as chaperones.”

 "Yes!“ Rosie shouted. "You and Dad can both come and we’ll pretend you’re my father, too!”

John stared at the two of them. “Rosie. Everyone in your class knows Sherlock is not your father.”

Sherlock waved a dismissive hand at him. “Please. Everyone in her class except for the few girls who have been here assume we’re a couple. No one will question it.”

Right. Of course. Everyone assumed they were a couple and no one would question it. John put his elbows up on the table so he could rest his head in his hands. “You want to pretend to be a couple so I can go to Disney World with you and you won’t have to share a room with a stranger.”

“Exactly.” Sherlock beamed at him. “Don’t worry about the cost. The Birmingham case last month paid more than enough to cover expenses for all three of us.”

–from Chaperone, the title I just made up for the pretend-relationship parentlock story which is not actually being written now except for the 1400 words I wrote yesterday

THAT scene IS beautiful (Sherlock spoilers)

So I’ve been thinking about THAT SCENE (I haven’t done much else for the past few days) and I was thinking that Louise Brealey was right.  That scene is beautiful.  Not because of the declaration of love that was forced upon Sherlock and Molly, but because that one scene shows us how much Sherlock has learned about love, respect, and cruelty over the course of the show.  When Sherlock realizes he has to get Molly to say ‘I love you’ to him, he is visibly upset.  He already knows it will hurt her.  He knows it is one of the cruelest things he can do to her because he knows she is in love with him.  The man who couldn’t be bothered to notice he was being asked out on a date. The man who had no problem using Molly’s attraction to him to get what he wanted.  The man who could see everything except that Molly went to the Christmas party for him (something everyone else could see clearly).  That man was upset he had to make Molly say three words.  Season 1 Sherlock would have brushed it of.  It’s only words??? What’s the big deal if it saves a person’s life?  But season 4 Sherlock knows exactly what a big deal words can be.  He now understands how his words can hurt a person, and he cares if his words hurt Molly.

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If you recall the very beginning of TGG, there’s a scene with Sherlock interviewing a prisoner (Barry Berwick) in Minsk. I think this is could be an explanation of the emotional reasons for the case, but I think it’s likely there’s a plot motivated reason, as well. That’s how the show works.

I know Sherlock takes the case because John wants the money:

But since that was never referenced in the episode, I don’t think that’s a good enough reason to include the whole scene.

TGG has a bunch of Eastern European references in the Five Pips case that Jim sets up; Sherlock even points it out for us:

SHERLOCK: You know, it’s interesting. Bohemian stationery, an assassin named after a Prague legend, and you, Miss Wenceslas. This whole case has a distinctly Czech feeling about it. Is that where this leads?

So it would’ve been easy to tie this case back into the TGG somehow, but they didn’t. It’s such a pointless scene: why didn’t they cut it? It’s more than just pointless; it’s sloppy, and I really don’t think this show is sloppy. But whatever Barry’s case is about has been hanging for a long time; most people probably don’t even remember it.

Eastern Europe was also in TRF:


And it’s huge in season three:

1) Sherlock starts off TEH in Serbia where he’s rescued by Mycroft.

2) CAM’s documents on Mary are in Cyrillic, used in a lot of Eastern European countries - including Serbia.

3) Mycroft is tracking something in Poland in HLV:

4) Sherlock is supposed to be sent on a suicide mission to Eastern Europe.

5) The newspapers Janine brings Sherlock mention “Eastern Europe Erupts!” 

So I think Barry Berwick is a hint to something - the really big something that Jim’s got going - all the way back in season one. Here’s how we know Jim’s involved with Barry:

These are definitely set up the same. That means Barry is tied to Jim: the cabbie is Jim’s agent; Barry is Jim’s agent (whether or not he knows it). 

Barry repeats this idea that someone has told him about Sherlock in the episode, so it must be important:

BERWICK: … Everyone says you’re the best!

Sherlock has been recommended to Barry by someone: I really can’t imagine that it’s anyone except Jim as Sherlock isn’t even close to famous in S1 yet. Also, the fact that it's so long-term can really only mean Jim.

The more you look into the dialogue of this scene, the stranger it gets. Go back and watch the video - here’s some stuff to look for:

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Newly Weds (Sherlolly Fanfiction)

Sherlock and Molly were standing among the two other couples backstage. Molly felt very out of place as she pulled on her colourful striped jumper. While the other two women, pushed their breasts up, and applied more make-up.

She was very relieved when Sherlock stood beside her and looped his arm around her. Molly looked up at him, with a small smile. As they walked together to the stage, taking their seats. They were in the middle section. The lights were blinding, making her squint as she searched the crowd. It took her a couple of times to find John and Mary. Once she did, she gave a huge smile in their direction. Mary returned the gesture and waved, while John was scanning the studio.

At that moment a man with a huge sign, that was hitting the people in the aisle below was very clumsily making his way to the seat beside John. She soon recognized the man as Philip Anderson. Before he sat down he lost control of his sign, as it wobbled towards John’s face with some serious force. Molly wanted to shout to John to get his attention, but she knew it wouldn’t work. It was too late anyway as the sign smacked John right smack dab in the center. Anderson pulled the sign away, looking as if he were apologizing over and over. John having the most aggravated expression, anyone has ever worn. That’s including all of the people who came across Sherlock for the first time. Mary’s head was thrown back in a fit of hysterical laughter. Molly tried her best to keep her laughter sealed, with doing so her face had almost a pained expression.

Sherlock must not have noticed the whole ordeal, as he snaked his fingers through hers, giving her hand a little squeeze. That made her look up at him, making her mouth form a little o, as he smiled reassuringly at her. She smiled back to let him know she was fine. The little moment was interrupted though, with the little theme music. Sherlock tore his hand away quickly, like it was a naughty thing they were doing. Making her a little bit sad. She had no time to be sad, though. As she stared at the host, waiting for the introduction to start.

“Hello everyone and welcome to The Newly Weds Game UK!”

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anonymous asked:

hey! im really confused as to what's going on right now? i watched the trailer and everything but how do we know it's johnlock?? why is everyone yelling and freaking out and arguing?? what is going On

jiodsfj ewj i feel you. i’ve no idea what’s going on myself if you’re referring to all the fighting, except that the obvious reason is probably that now that s4 is very close, everyone is either scared johnlock is going to happen or extremely happy that johnlock is going to happen, which can lead to… uh, risen emotions and anxiety

but about the trailer, if you believe in tjlc and are updated on the main theories & the newest ones, sherlock saying “i love you” can’t be an indication of anything else other than johnlock . grace said it best, as did rebs