DeNile is the longest river in fandom. |
In which there are only FIVE episodes of Sherlock and NOTHING HURTS. Because after 01/15 and the EPISODE THAT SHALL NOT BE NAMED there should be a refuge, a happy place in Sherlock fandom. And this is it.
Also, feel free to check out my blog, to see who's sailing this ship. |
(Source: mishboy, via spectacularlyignorantinaniceway)
I think you should draw John and Sherlock being domestic with vacuum cleaners ;)
Well, this got a little out of hand for a doodle request, but i regret nothing xDD
also if it’s too small to see properly, please go to the source to see the large version, because i have no idea how to upload pics nicely on tumblr ok*giggle snort*
This is wonderful
(Source: 221-bluebox-street, via noottersontheflightdeck)
Easter 2008, Sherlock in Mummy’s garden
A few weeks after Sherlock’s death, Mycroft finds the photo he needed to find, without admitting to himself he was even looking for it.
Sherlock, in the garden, smiling a rare genuine smile.
Mycroft knows the exact date he took the photo, he knows which camera he took it with. He remembers the dress Mummy wore that day and he remembers what they had for dinner.
He can’t remember why Sherlock smiled.
And for some odd reason, that hurts.
/sobbing
(via bloomist)
Sherlock Hoo-lmes and Dr.Hootson.
Help I don’t know what to draw
(via thebritishteapot)
I said dangerous and here you are.
(Source: a-torvs, via letmartyhandlethis)
“Your brother sent me something interesting this morning.” John grinned cheekily.
Sherlock huffed an annoyed sigh from the kitchen table; his eyes steeped right into the eyepiece of his microscope. “Interesting by whose standard?”
“Mine, I guess. You know, were cute when you were four…” The doctor tossed back casually. “…what happened?” He teased.John couldn’t help but chuckle to himself when he heard Sherlock’s chair immediately push back with a low scrape. There was a brief breeze that accompanied the body of the consulting detective as he leaned over the chair - ignoring John’s personal space, as always, in order to view the content on his laptop.
“Oh god.” Sherlock groaned. His mouth turned down into a childish pout, which accompanied his furrowed brow brilliantly.
There was a picture of him,: Sherlock, age 4.
“Christ, you look just as severe then as you do now.” John muttered, glancing at the intruding head beside his. “But… cute as a button.”
Sherlock petulantly reached forward and closed the laptop. “I require a picture of you at the age of four to square the field. NOW, John.” He tantrumed.
# part-two
(via ununpentium)
(via bloomist)
by kairu
-Oh, dear… That’ll be an extra for your rent, sweetie.