tagged → #sherlock needs #cake #queue

Martin Freeman being a complete cutie psycho killer


"Um, Sherlock, your leg is…""Mhm…""So could you…?""Unh-uhn…"


"Um, Sherlock, your leg is…"
"So could you…?"


First 10 seconds of the video, he didn’t even say anything yet. But look how adorable he is. {x}

tagged → #Sherlock needs #queue

BC - Night Shoot, 23/8/13  - (photo credit)

tagged → #fc #well hot damn


he really looks attractive when smokes

Soul Mates // Sherlock & John



"I work with the police, yes," Sherlock nodded. "But not with the Yard. They do not yet appreciate my talents. Ridiculous, really. I have attempted to prove myself, and yet I still only garner the attention of local stations. I mostly work cases of people who come specifically to me, who do not want the authorities directly involved."

He sipped his coffee and checked his phone. He had one text from Lestrade, and an email from a potential client. It could wait until tomorrow. He had all the time after his dinner with John to solve the case, after all, and only tonight to have dinner with him.

John moved to stand when Sherlock finished his coffee and went to dispose of their cups for both of them, returning and taking up his book sack before nodding to Sherlock to follow him. “ We’ve got to head back to the tube.” He urged, heading down the street towards the station, waking a bit quickly at Sherlock’s side to keep up with the other man’s long strides.

He suspected Sherlock was about six feet tall, and John himself was 5’6, so the man’s long legs carried him farther, faster, and Sherlock seemed to walk with purpose even though they were going to the tube to head to John’s. The man had expressed his cleverness, and his work with local police though, so perhaps he was well travelled in the city and needed no real direction until they arrived at the buildings where John’s flat was on the third floor.

Sherlock remained quiet as they passed through the city, keeping his eyes on the floor while in the tube - too much information, overwhelming - and following John to his flat. He walked quickly, collar turned up, hands in his pockets, mind racing. 

Romance wasn’t something he believed he was capable of. Nor was he interested in it. He hadn’t looked for it, and just because he had a soulmate, it didn’t mean he wanted to continue with it.

But the idea of a ‘soulmate’ intrigued him. The fact that there was a person out there who was born to match him precisely, in both tastes and personality, wasn’t something he had ever believed in. Even when he had read scholarly articles, he doubted the ‘perfect match’ that they had preached about. And now, he saw, he had the only opportunity he would have to investigate it.

He followed John up to the flat, trailing behind him, unsure exactly what he was going to do, but a plan of attack was forming.

tagged → #jhwjohnwatson #poor john



Sherlock was a little perturbed by Victor’s nerves. He had used to be like that on occasion, but never around him particularly. But it had been years since they saw each other. People changed, and while he was good at reading them, he was no mind reader. Sherlock had no idea what had happened to Victor since they last spoke.

"Passing through. Hm." He smiled in a way he thought might be reassuring, but he had not quite mastered the art of smiling in certain manners yet.

"And where exactly are you headed?" he asked, stirring his coffee again, swirling the sugar up through it.

"Ah, well—" He quirked a little half smile and there was some amusement in his expression, perhaps a little misplaced, because he had little reason apart form being here. And God, Victor, you’re jittery, stop all this and calm the fuck down.

A pause of a moment, in which he reached into his pocket to check his lighter was still there. “Right. I’ll be here for— oh, another few days at the least. Where I’m off to after that is yet to be decided, but it’ll be within Europe. I believe I’m back here next month some time, though.”

It was an odd schedule to keep, and he couldn’t say that he didn’t enjoy the thrill of it. He’d always wanted to travel, if not exactly like this.

He hadn’t realised Victor smoked, but once he figured that he’d been searching for it in his pocket, he could smell the smoke on his clothes. It was faint, barely noticeable, but there, and he cursed himself for not smelling it straight away.

"Why?" he asked, finishing his coffee and putting the empty glass aside. Long hands folded together on the table between them and he leant forwards, interested. Anyone else would have bored him, but he hadn’t heard from Victor in so long, and he’d been so interested in him when they were students together, that he still was now.