Slowly Dying

I like Sherlock and Supernatural and Star Trek and Harry Potter. I also really like talking to my cat.
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fuckyeahfightlock:

aconsultingdetective:

Legit Johnlock Scenes

John Watson is my husband now, in case you didn’t notice. We got married.

I laugh at the “Sherlock can’t/won’t stop saying, ‘my husband, John Watson,’” schtick every! time! It just tickles me.

yungvulcanoes:

I’m sorry

Tagged: #star trek #Q

hoursago:

i love season one

hoursago:

i love season one

Tagged: #spn #Q

Tagged: #sherlock #Q

Something's bugging me and I can't find "official" fan statements about it, so I thought I could ask you, if you don't mind. What made Sherlock immediately accept John? Back in Bart's, he knew Mike didn't have a phone, and John did. He asked him straight on about the violin and other stuff. What was is it he deduced about John that told him "he's the one"? Thanks! Hex

@mediumaevum

ivyblossom:

At what point did Sherlock decide that John would be a acceptable flatmate? That was when he deduced that Mike Stamford was bringing him a potential one who had plenty of good reasons for needing a flatmate himself. Sherlock’s deductions (no strong ties, soldier, doctor, freshly back from a war) tell him enough to go on, as he says. He wasn’t looking for someone who would be perfect. He was looking for someone who would have him.

Sherlock hadn’t asked, “Who can I stand to share a flat with? Who will help me? Who will make my life better? Who will become my one and only friend?” He asked, “Who would have me for a flatmate?” Sherlock decides in that moment that John is alone enough, desperate enough, and possibly strong-stomached enough to be his flatmate.

He clearly has no clue who he’s just met. He has no idea at all how John is going to become central to his work and his life. He’s only solving an immediate problem. It’s less “he’s the one,” and more “this one is not going to say no if I offer him the second bedroom.” He’s so confident about it that he immediately moves in himself.

Though I suspect he also thinks John is kinda hot, because he’s flustered the next day when John drops by. We all know about Sherlock’s thing for soldiers. But that’s another story.

bellamyyoung:

meanwhile i’m asking the real fuckin questions

Tagged: #hp #Q


Wake Your Watsons Up 17/30: Hiatus
doodle by ireallyshouldbedrawing • ficlet by ColebaltBlue
also on AO3
—-
The private carriage was courtesy Mycroft and the swathes of bandages and blankets insured our relative anonymity as we returned to London. Holmes had not regained true consciousness since I had found him splayed out on the rocks at the foot of the falls. I was a doctor and I knew what this meant - a brain injury of this scale. I could only hope that he would be one of the miracle cases, but the Sherlock Holmes as we knew him was dead.
We settled him in my home in Kensington - a sunny bedroom at the front of the house - and I began my vigil. My practice suffered greatly for the time I spent by his side. But I didn’t care for anything but my patient.
He began to slowly awaken from his coma. Confused, struggling to form words, and completely unaware of who or where he was. I would not give up. I would never give up for him. The pieces of his mind returned slowly.
I folded his hand around cups and encouraged him to drink. I read to him, endlessly, and wrote furiously by his side. But he seemed not to know me from anyone else.
Then one morning I awoke, a sore neck, stiff shoulder, and aching leg to the soft whisper of, “Watson?”

Wake Your Watsons Up 17/30: Hiatus

doodle by ireallyshouldbedrawing • ficlet by ColebaltBlue

also on AO3

—-

The private carriage was courtesy Mycroft and the swathes of bandages and blankets insured our relative anonymity as we returned to London. Holmes had not regained true consciousness since I had found him splayed out on the rocks at the foot of the falls. I was a doctor and I knew what this meant - a brain injury of this scale. I could only hope that he would be one of the miracle cases, but the Sherlock Holmes as we knew him was dead.

We settled him in my home in Kensington - a sunny bedroom at the front of the house - and I began my vigil. My practice suffered greatly for the time I spent by his side. But I didn’t care for anything but my patient.

He began to slowly awaken from his coma. Confused, struggling to form words, and completely unaware of who or where he was. I would not give up. I would never give up for him. The pieces of his mind returned slowly.

I folded his hand around cups and encouraged him to drink. I read to him, endlessly, and wrote furiously by his side. But he seemed not to know me from anyone else.

Then one morning I awoke, a sore neck, stiff shoulder, and aching leg to the soft whisper of, “Watson?”

Tagged: #fic #sherlock #Q

  • salazar: hey everyone just wanted your opinion on something
  • helga: shoot
  • salazar: okay what if we get giant versions of our house symbols
  • rowena: what
  • salazar: like godric would have a giant lion chilling out somewhere and rowena would have a big canary
  • rowena: its an eagle
  • salazar: okay whatever
  • godric: i dont think uh
  • salazar: it cant be too hard to find a huge badger
  • godric: okay dude wtf no this is ridiculous absolutely no giant house symbols
  • salazar: oh um okay because i kind of uh
  • helga:
  • rowena:
  • godric:
  • salazar:
  • helga: what did you do
  • salazar: NOTHING

Tagged: #hp #Q

waitfortheawesomeness:

super-sleuth:


If John had answered.

Lucky him indeed

waitfortheawesomeness:

super-sleuth:

image

If John had answered.

Lucky him indeed

Tagged: #sherlock #Q

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