Posts tagged sherlock.


“It’s time to be Sherlock Holmes again.”

Amnesia AU requested by farina-d-amica: Post fall, Sherlock is found working in a restaurant with no recollection of anything before the past 2 years. After John attacks him, leaving him confused, he embraces the past he can’t remember.

(via kriskenshin)


The first part is called The Pledge. The magician shows you something ordinary: a deck of cards, a bird or a man. He shows you this object. Perhaps he asks you to inspect it to see if it is indeed real, unaltered, normal. But of course… it probably isn’t.

The second act is called The Turn. The magician takes the ordinary something and makes it do something extraordinary. Now you’re looking for the secret… but you won’t find it, because of course you’re not really looking. You don’t really want to know. You want to be fooled. But you wouldn’t clap yet.

Because making something disappear isn’t enough; you have to bring it back.

That’s why every magic trick has a third act, the hardest part, the part we call The Prestige

(via unknownsister)








John, did I do it wrong? 

Did he do it fucking wrong? Ugh just kill me with a rusty spoon, and rip my eyes out. HE THOUGHT HE DID IT FUCKING WRONG!? FUCK! 

I’m sobbing even today from that scene

There might be a day when I don’t reblog this scene, but that day isn’t today. 

He just up and reads a love letter. Out loud. In front ot everyone. AND HE HAS NO IDEA

Reblogging again because: YES. THIS. 

(Also reblogging again because it’s, like, my fave.)

It just breaks my damned heart how he automatically turns to John. John is his barometer for how he should behave, his conduit for understanding the world.

God, he’s gut-wrenching. 

these two can never, ever be apart. Never

There are so many wonderful things about this scene, but one of my favourites is the demonstration of how physically affectionate John is when his guard is down. 

john is an expressive and wholehearted hugger. There really can be no question about the depth of his affection when he pulls Sherlock into a hug like that, eyes squeezed shut, clinging onto him he’ll never let him go. It’s like he’s wrapping his whole body around Sherlock and surrounding him in undeniable affection. It’s a beautiful thing.

And we don’t even really get to see the whole hug, because he’s clearly not in favour of letting go when he does. He wasn’t finished with that hug in any way whatsoever. Even once Sherlock gets going with his speech again, John still has a hand on his neck. Everything in John still wants to be clinging to Sherlock. He’s still got more to (physically) say.

John is, it seems, far more comfortable speaking with his body than he is with his words. But this conversation is interrupted by Sherlock’s speech, the one John asked him to give, much like their relationship is interrupted by Sherlock’s choice to deceive John and leave at the end of The Reichenbach Fall. Whenever they reach a point of loving one another simply and completely, the plot drags them apart too soon, before that conversation, physical or otherwise, is complete. This series is affection interruptus at its finest.

I love the idea of John as physically demonstrative when he feels he’s allowed to be. Look how happy he is to hug Sherlock! LET ME LOVE YOU, that’s what his body language says. COME HERE AND LET ME LOVE YOU. NO. SHUT UP. LET ME LOVE YOU. I’M NOT DONE YET.

And thus I deduce that John is a cuddler, and a really, really good one. Since Sherlock is in desperate need of a good cuddle, this could work out very well. 

(via decadentwallpaper)


BBC Sherlock in the original Victorian era

(via anotherwellkeptsecret)

The looks John never gives Mary.

(via toooldforthissh--stuff)

New fic - Safe in His Mouth

Safe in His Mouth by scienceofobsession

Johnlock, 2,200 words

When a particularly awful case has Sherlock and John in emotional shreds, they come together to help each other heal in the best way they know how.


I FINALLY WROTE PORN. It’s a bit angsty and H/C but it’s most definitely porn. Hurrah! 


Sherlock rises up on his toes, calves and flank firm and perfectly alabaster; his elbow and shoulder now moving in frantic concert. John is caught in it, unable to look away, breathe, move. He chokes on the knowledge that he cannot back away now, no matter how badly he knows he should, and presses the heel of one hand against the firm bulge in his jeans. He soaks in it, indulges in the burn, feels his own touch as if electrified. The battle within him rages: a need to comfort and care fighting with an animal urge to take and quell and fuck. He wonders if he can even claim worry now, hard as he is and wanting; a switch flipped inexplicably fast, a surge crashing down over his carefully-constructed walls. He closes his eyes and abandons himself to following a shiver from his crown to his toes, the fire of it coalescing low in his belly. He breathes in through his nose, trying to push down the overwhelming sensation of panicked arousal. He has to leave, he must. Go, John, he thinks, fabricating a lie that he actually intends to do so.

(via sherlockstuff)

(via nana-41175)

'Sherlock' mental asylum AU: There are voices that only Sherlock can hear. They’re coming from walls, they’re driving him insane. His new psychiatrist, John Watson, doesn’t believe a word until these ghosts start whispering in his house.

(via cumber-porn)


One of my favorite shots ever.

(via cumberseedybatch)



(via penns-woods)


...not you.

(via johnfuckingwatson)


- Shut up, Sherlock. You are talking in your sleep.

(via dixiebell)


How would you describe me John?

(via kriskenshin)

(via wearitcounts)