Please, more JohnLock

When he firts met Sherlock Holmes, he was annoying about those perfect eyes. The color and the expressiveness of that look, no matter what Sherlock says,his eyes always tell the truth to him, and for that when Sherlock starts to avoid his look he knew that something horrible will happen

Sep 25
Sep 24

If we think about this escene we could see the pain in Sherlock´s eyes, he knew that he was losing the only person that undertend him, but he couldn´t do anything, ´cause he knew that John doesn´t love him in the same way

(Source: violincameos, via thehalloweeniegrope)

Sep 24

ivyblossom:

This lie is a kindness.

John already lost Sherlock, buried him, and never managed to stop mourning him. There was no getting over Sherlock’s death for John, even after two years, and I expect he never really would have got over it if it had been true. When he talks about Sherlock two years on, he looks just as broken as he did immediately after it happened. Sherlock’s death always stays fresh for him, even after he decides to move on. That’s a wound that wouldn’t ever entirely heal, unless Sherlock could do the impossible thing and do what John asked of him: don’t be dead.

The first time, he could.

So this time around, Sherlock knows he’s going to die for real, but keeps that fact from John. He lets John think that after his six months undercover, he’ll have some unknown, new adventure somewhere. And then another, and another. Swashbuckling his way across the planet, getting into scrapes and getting out of them again. Instead of John mourning Sherlock’s death forever, he could imagine him out there somewhere solving crimes, being brilliant, making the world a less dark place. He’d read about mysterious, amazing things in the papers and wonder if it’s Sherlock’s work. For the rest of his life he could image him like that, Sherlock the lone crusader, changing the world, unable to come home, unable to take John with him, but not for lack of wanting to, and not for lack of love. It’s just circumstances beyond their control. He’d be gone, but for John he’d still out there. Missing Sherlock is hard, but mourning him is harder.

Mary can tell when Sherlock is lying, but John can’t, and Sherlock knows it.

Sherlock now understands what his death would do to John. So he very kindly gives him something better.

(Source: darlingbenny, via seasonsofjohnlock)

Sep 23

This life is an exploration

And you gotta see what I see in you…

(Source: miss-addler, via mindpalace)

parkbench221:

Sherlock in The Empty Hearse

Sherlock: Where’s John?

Mycroft: Terrorist network.

Sherlock: Do I look ok? I’m gonna see John.

Mycroft: Terrorist network. Very dangerous.

Sherlock: Where’s John? I’m gonna go see John.

John in His Last Vow

John: You have a girlfriend?

Sherlock: Magnussen.

John: But you have a girlfriend?

Sherlock: Magnussen. Very dangerous.

John: Yeah, but you have a girlfriend?

(via shylocks)

Sep 23
thedetectivedoesntdance:

deebzy:

stress relief doodle

It’s in the way Sherlock’s eyes narrow, the way his voice gets louder without becoming a shout; how he moves, how he breathes, how he lives and simply is that tells John when Sherlock’s mind is on fire. There are times when Sherlock himself can extinguish the flame, and it’s a sight to see the unwinding of Sherlock Holmes from pre-case to post-case and every quick-minded moment in between.
But then there are nights between cases, or even on cases, where it’s simply too much for the man. John wages it’s nights like these that Mycroft calls “Danger Nights.” They never established the criteria for what a Danger Night is, namely because the name only comes up when John is not by Sherlock’s side.
It’s tiring at times and even trying, but being needed is what John Watson is meant to be. Being needed by Sherlock Holmes is what he needs to be.
So he stays at home - declines invites to the pub, resists walking in the crisp autumn air, even forgoes the mail - when he sees the flicker of a flame in Sherlock’s eyes. He stays, and he sits, and he watches Sherlock pace restlessly, practically carving a trail in the floor with his weighted footsteps. He knows Sherlock won’t stop and say, Please, John, I need help. Instead it’s in the silence following the ramble, in the way Sherlock stares at him, a gaze John now knows is a plea and silence he knows is a desperate question.
Sometimes Sherlock comes to him. Sometimes he rises to the man. But always, his arms are around Sherlock, and Sherlock huffs and rests his forehead on John’s shoulder and mumbles about how he’s fine and how he still doesn’t quite understand the point of physical affection. And always, after a moment, Sherlock shifts his head and nestles his cheek on John’s shoulder (and if they’re seated he even curls close, like a cat unsure if it will be pushed off the lap it seeks) and closes his eyes. John holds the base of his neck, pets his hair, rubs his shoulder. Touches him, affirms that he’s there, he’s there and he’ll always be there and there will never be a need for another Danger Night again. Touches him like he’s a human being who needs the sensation and the warmth and the intimacy, instead of avoiding him like the robot the world paints him to be. Touches him and says useless words he’ll never know actually do reach Sherlock’s ears: It’s all right, I’ve got you.
These interventions can be five minutes long, or three, or sixty, or one hundred and twenty. He can be silent the whole time, or talk, babbling uselessly. They can have a conversation or just enjoy being so close. Sherlock is quiet afterward, his voice deep and soft and immensely private. It’s as close to vulnerable as John’s ever heard. John has gotten good at gauging whether or not to turn the telly on or to call in dinner or to take Sherlock to bed (and whether to sleep with him or not). He’s rather proud of himself, really. He doesn’t know that Sherlock is as well.
However it ends, in the morning John wakes to Sherlock active and alert, condemning John’s sleeping in and the missed opportunity for morning sex. He pushes tea in John’s left hand and toast in his right, sits him bleary and blinking into his chair, and shoves the paper at him before going to his violin to ignore John for the next hour.
Before that, though, right after John pulls down the obituary section off his face to scowl at Sherlock, Sherlock kisses him, a soft, reverent thing that warms John to the core. And Sherlock pulls back, his eyes on John’s; his gaze and silence, as always, saying what words he cannot form.
When Sherlock turns away to attend to his Stradivarius, John smiles a smile he thinks Sherlock misses, but it’s one Sherlock knows and carries with him deep in his memory. It’s in his blood; it’s in the marrow in his bones.
As the first note is plucked, Sherlock wonders if he’ll ever find the words to express that to John.
The sweet music which fills the flat after each tumultuous night does the job just fine.
Sep 23

thedetectivedoesntdance:

deebzy:

stress relief doodle

It’s in the way Sherlock’s eyes narrow, the way his voice gets louder without becoming a shout; how he moves, how he breathes, how he lives and simply is that tells John when Sherlock’s mind is on fire. There are times when Sherlock himself can extinguish the flame, and it’s a sight to see the unwinding of Sherlock Holmes from pre-case to post-case and every quick-minded moment in between.

But then there are nights between cases, or even on cases, where it’s simply too much for the man. John wages it’s nights like these that Mycroft calls “Danger Nights.” They never established the criteria for what a Danger Night is, namely because the name only comes up when John is not by Sherlock’s side.

It’s tiring at times and even trying, but being needed is what John Watson is meant to be. Being needed by Sherlock Holmes is what he needs to be.

So he stays at home - declines invites to the pub, resists walking in the crisp autumn air, even forgoes the mail - when he sees the flicker of a flame in Sherlock’s eyes. He stays, and he sits, and he watches Sherlock pace restlessly, practically carving a trail in the floor with his weighted footsteps. He knows Sherlock won’t stop and say, Please, John, I need help. Instead it’s in the silence following the ramble, in the way Sherlock stares at him, a gaze John now knows is a plea and silence he knows is a desperate question.

Sometimes Sherlock comes to him. Sometimes he rises to the man. But always, his arms are around Sherlock, and Sherlock huffs and rests his forehead on John’s shoulder and mumbles about how he’s fine and how he still doesn’t quite understand the point of physical affection. And always, after a moment, Sherlock shifts his head and nestles his cheek on John’s shoulder (and if they’re seated he even curls close, like a cat unsure if it will be pushed off the lap it seeks) and closes his eyes. John holds the base of his neck, pets his hair, rubs his shoulder. Touches him, affirms that he’s there, he’s there and he’ll always be there and there will never be a need for another Danger Night again. Touches him like he’s a human being who needs the sensation and the warmth and the intimacy, instead of avoiding him like the robot the world paints him to be. Touches him and says useless words he’ll never know actually do reach Sherlock’s ears: It’s all right, I’ve got you.

These interventions can be five minutes long, or three, or sixty, or one hundred and twenty. He can be silent the whole time, or talk, babbling uselessly. They can have a conversation or just enjoy being so close. Sherlock is quiet afterward, his voice deep and soft and immensely private. It’s as close to vulnerable as John’s ever heard. John has gotten good at gauging whether or not to turn the telly on or to call in dinner or to take Sherlock to bed (and whether to sleep with him or not). He’s rather proud of himself, really. He doesn’t know that Sherlock is as well.

However it ends, in the morning John wakes to Sherlock active and alert, condemning John’s sleeping in and the missed opportunity for morning sex. He pushes tea in John’s left hand and toast in his right, sits him bleary and blinking into his chair, and shoves the paper at him before going to his violin to ignore John for the next hour.

Before that, though, right after John pulls down the obituary section off his face to scowl at Sherlock, Sherlock kisses him, a soft, reverent thing that warms John to the core. And Sherlock pulls back, his eyes on John’s; his gaze and silence, as always, saying what words he cannot form.

When Sherlock turns away to attend to his Stradivarius, John smiles a smile he thinks Sherlock misses, but it’s one Sherlock knows and carries with him deep in his memory. It’s in his blood; it’s in the marrow in his bones.

As the first note is plucked, Sherlock wonders if he’ll ever find the words to express that to John.

The sweet music which fills the flat after each tumultuous night does the job just fine.

(via consultingaytective)

mayefromtheshire:

…even if every single hope we johnlockers have right now is meant to be crashed and smashed to death, there are and always will be a handful of things they’ll never be able to take from us:

Read More

Sep 3
So I’m terrified about His Last Vow, but…
Sep 3

mayefromtheshire:

deducingbbcsherlock:

"Can’t two guys just have a close, platonic love/friendship?"

I’m so sick of hearing this question. As if books, shows, and films are flooded with homosexual relationships and why can’t we just have a male friendship story for once, when in reality we live in a world of bromances and queerbaiting and it’s about time someone did something different.

I’m not saying Johnlock is definitely endgame. Personally, I believe/hope it is, but I can’t predict what the writers will do. But if you think the idea of these two characters realizing that they have romantic and/or sexual feelings for one another is a joke, we have a serious problem.

Let’s recap where we are here at the start of His Last Vow. Sherlock and John have acknowledged that they are one another’s best friends, and that they love one another. Up until the wedding, they had several months of solving cases together. Sherlock had his best friend and blogger. John had his best friend, all the crime and danger a growing boy needs, and he was engaged to the woman he loved. Things couldn’t have been better for either of them. 

Yet Sherlock leaves the reception early and they don’t speak for a month.

So here’s John, lying in bed with his pregnant wife, dreaming of the war he misses (the exact dream he had in the pilot, this is called regression). And then the war fades, and Sherlock walks into his head. Ask him if he wants to see some more. Oh god, yes. (I know I know, he’s talking about “the game.” Good thing subtext isn’t a thing that exists and writers aren’t well aware of how and when they use it.)

John throws off his wife’s hand off and sits up, Sherlock’s face still clear in his mind. 

John loves Mary. John is happy they are expecting a baby. John hasn’t seen his best friend in a few weeks (I’m not counting the honeymoon, it’s not like he expected to spend time with him then). So could someone please tell me how to interpret this scene in any way other than John needs/wants something from Sherlock that he is not getting. Could someone please tell me how this opening scene is indicative of a strong platonic friendship. 

Because I’ve got news for you. Sherlock and John’s superstrong friendship was established loud and clear in TSoT, to the audience and to one another. Up until Sherlock makes his vow during the reception, that episode showed us two characters with everything they could want. Sherlock has friends now, and a best friend to solve crimes with. John has Sherlock back, and after all his failed relationships back in season one, he’s marrying a fantastic woman that gets along great with Sherlock (and that’s certainly a first).

But neither are happy at the start of HLV. And there are no more relationship revelations for these two to have except for THE one.

I find it funny that I get anon hate on my johnlock metas saying I’m “trying too hard” or coming up with “tortured metaphors” when I’d have to work so, so much harder to come up with any other interpretation of this show.

^^^^^^^^

Also wanted to point out that, in real life (or at least in my case), when you’ve just woke up and still can “see” something you were just dreaming about, it’s mostly because you don’t want the dream to fade away so quickly. You somehow want to keep dreaming. I know, maybe i’m reaching, or maybe this just happens to me and my dreams, but that “The game is ON” after John is awake… That’s something.

Sep 3

mayefromtheshire:

amygloriouspond:

∞ Scenes of Sherlock

You should try living with him. I miss living with him.

Can I add something here? For a man who dates women SO MUCH, John is really rubbish as a wingman. I mean, he was passing by the hall, he saw Sherl and Janine chatting and smiling at each other, and instead of leaving them alone so they could carry on he just went and stepped in between. I mean, is your wedding day, John, go be with your wife and let the man hook up. Unless… you can’t stand the thought of Sherlock hooking up with some girl (or person) even if is on your own wedding day. Omg! Did I crack this scene?

(Source: aconsultingdetective)

tunalocked:

"Do you remember what Darwin says about music? He claims that the power of producing and appreciating it existed among the human race long before the power of speech was arrived at. Perhaps that is why we are so subtly influenced by it. There are vague memories in our souls of those misty centuries when the world was in its childhood."
- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, “A Study in Scarlet”
Aug 23

tunalocked:

"Do you remember what Darwin says about music? He claims that the power of producing and appreciating it existed among the human race long before the power of speech was arrived at. Perhaps that is why we are so subtly influenced by it. There are vague memories in our souls of those misty centuries when the world was in its childhood."

- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, “A Study in Scarlet”

(via queersherlockian)