I Am Feeling Rather Shitty Today And Conflicted, So I Figured: What Other Day Could Be Better To Start

me when sherlock & co.

How to prevent Netflix from cancelling Dead boy detectives? I'm already attached to this series, it will be a pity if another good show just gonna be cancelled after first season

Tell everyone you know, in real life and online, to watch it. Word of mouth is incredibly effective. Be an evangelist for the show.

victor trevor, the only person sherlock had been at least vaguely friends with in college, just said in front of him and john hamish watson that he’s in between boyfriends and my life has not been the same ever since

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

I fell asleep in my friends' arms. It was eleven at night, we were tired, curled up in a small pile on my tiny bed. I had my head buried in my roommate's side, and one of my closest friend's hand on my shoulder, steadying me. It was quiet and nothingness and peace and their heartbeats in my ears, my hands in their hair.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

We pack four people to that little bed, you know. Laps used as footrests, collarbones as pillows, little lights like moonlight in rustic yellow bathed on their faces. The TV plays an anime. The words are repeated by my dear friend on my shoulder, curled close. My legs are asleep; my roommate may be, too.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

The cat curls on top of our criss cross mess of legs and arms and heads on chests to absorb the warmth of us all. She purrs in contented peace. When my roommate and I are left alone in the quiet, she cries, and watches the door for our friends' return.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

I will never kiss them but the top of their heads. I will never touch but the warmth of their arms. I will never take more than what's freely given, and in return I put my glasses on the bedside table fashioned from a guitar amp, and when I lean into their sides, I pick up my vulnerability and place it in their capable, tender hands.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

I sing for them. I cry for them. I work and I run and I withstand the worst of the world for them, because some days I get to cradle their forehead on my shoulder and some days I get to see their shining eyes.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

Maybe to you. But look beyond explanation. I love them. With my heart in my unsteady hands, with my nose pressed to the side of their head, with the buzzing in my feet and the warmth all around Iike the sunset pushing into the window.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

Is it enough to say I love them? With no strings attached? With reckless abandon and utter devotion and freedom and kindness and fear?

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

I cannot explain it any clearer. I love my friends. There is no more to say.

something something how a lightning bolt strikes exactly the moment corvus grabs soren’s shoulder to save him from falling.

almost like the white light is meant to mark the moment fate changed and history was prevented from repeating - son will not die like his father, crashed at the bottom of the cliff.

"I've got you."

"I know."

John Watson saying you join me and my companion/colleague/friend/flat mate while the only thing I can think of is oh please cut the bullshit.

Companion is already the gayest word in existence and yet you want to salvage yourself by flat mate in a desperate try of not using roommate which is actually nothing more than just the second gayest word in existence and you and I both know it.

Who do you think you’re fooling John, my beloved sweet summer child, only yourself I’m afraid.

“ummmmm ur bra strap is showing :/ ”

I just can’t stop wondering how much we don’t know because we can’t hear it - because of sherlock & co being recorded.

how many times had john rolled his eyes at sherlock when he was being ridiculous, but smiled to himself the moment he turned around? how many times had mariana leaned in the doorway to 221b baker street and silently but fondly watched john and sherlock bickering? how many times sherlock just didn’t say anything when archie climbed on his lap and instead started to scratch behind the dog’s ears?

how many gentle smiles, cheeky grins and warm gazes with sparkling eyes? fingers touching one’s arm, hands on the shoulder or tight hugs? how much affection spread without words?

how much is being not said, left to imagination?

yeah so anyway I’ve heard a name victor trevor in the, what, first five minutes of the latest episode and I’m having heart palpitations ever since

Okay for the record I just wanted to say that Sherlock mentioning an underlaying threat of a birthday surprise party while talking John’s ear off (and this is an unintentional pun regarding the cardboard box, if you know, you know) about how absurdly in love with Christmas he is was not without a reason.

And if you ask me, when the boys come home after the cardboard box case, there will be a (threatening, if you ask Sherlock) surprise birthday party waiting organised by Mariana in cahoots with John. And John will rant before to Sherlock about something ridiculous to buy them some time, because they’ve finished the case too early and Mariana is not yet ready with the preparations. And there will be a cake, candles (maybe just a symbolical one, because Sherlock hasn’t told anybody how old is he, of course), and Archie with a birthday hat on.

And even though Sherlock might have not thought that his birthday was relevant, he will be smiling to himself after the party is over (and after John with Mariana had just given him the tightest of hugs, maybe even a quick kiss on a forehead, because this is our Sherlock).

You know, just for the record.