sherlock – Page 5 – c'est la vie on this bitch of an earth

the-game-mrs-hudson-is-on:

yayforjohnlock:

He said John’s name. TWICE.

I can’t deal with life anymore. There is agony on my face. And there isn’t a picture for that.

sherlockspeare:

I understand why they had to throw the pilot away.

gandlfs:

No no no, don’t be like that, practically everyone is.

areyoutryingtodeduceme:

thescienceofobsession:

voodooling:

Another lazy doodle.

the sentiment behind this is blinding.

this is one of the most brilliant pieces of Sherlock art I’ve seen O-O

sdkay:

-Henry was a “normal-looking bloke”? Really, John, you should become a professional author!

letmartyhandlethis:

I’ve already seen some people do this kind of a gifset with fandoms, so I decided to do something similar. These are fandoms in which I may not have been from the beginning, but I will stay to the very end. Because that’s what being a fan is about. 🙂

archiaart:

My exams are over! 😀 (For now…) More time to draw~

Here’s Sherlock and John (in the costumes from Game of Shadows 8D)

gaytectivesinactive-deactivated:

sherlock || colours

i-o-u-a-fall:

“Case,” he reminds me.

“No,” I reply simply.

“Not today?” he asks.

“Quite right,” I agree.

“I won’t complain,” he purrs.

“Neither shall I,” I return.

A chuckle. “You’re putting me first,” he notes. (He grins.)

A huff. “On lazy days only,” I grumble. (I lie.)

There’s silence. I can all but hear the cogs turning in his brain: rusted gears grinding against one another, the scrape of metal slow and steady, like his heartbeat beneath my fingers cradled on his neck.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” he catches on.

“How ever do you mean?” I tease him.

He sighs and shifts closer. My left hand dances down to the small of his back, writing notes to a symphony not yet performed My mind doesn’t play it as I pen it on his jumper-covered skin. It is an unexpected relief.

I know he intends to say more; I can feel his jaw working side-to-side in thought, clearly thinking about the sentence beforehand. Is it truly so difficult to formulate six words?

“You’re brilliant and I love you,” John utters as he nuzzles into my neck.

Oh.

I briefly consider maintaining our pattern of numbered sentences, but the warm breaths on my skin distract me from preparing a proper sentence. Relenting, I hum quietly. John’s warmth, beside and atop me, is greater than the sun’s, whose light peeks through the blinds and barely misses my face. It shines in his blonde-grey hair and gives him a gentle slow. I smile faintly; my eyes close.

“You, too,” I murmur.

5pips:

the Thread may stretch or tangle, but will never break.

[x] [x]