returnmysanity:

AU where Mycroft confronts Sherlock about his feelings for John.


posted 2 months ago with 18,582 notes • via scienceofdeduction-221b©returnmysanityreblog

#[Sorry for inactivity
#I will write more *pinky promise*
#]
#sherlock holmes
#sh
#bbc sherlock
#fic
#sherlock fic
#jimlock fic
#jim/sherlock
#sheriarty
#sheriarty fic
#moriarty/holmes
Stargazing - Jimlock fic

Positioning the tripod of his telescope - dragging out the top leg with a delighted grin, James adjusted the focus lense and peered ecstatically at the glistening sky above. He straightened to confront the unenthused countenance of Sherlock Holmes with a frown. “Don’t give me that,” he idled, returning to his scope.

Sherlock furrowed his brow, “Is my body language that obviously irate?”

“Obviously,” they stated in unison, representing some backhanded joke.

In spite of the efforts of trying to amuse the man, the consulting detective stood obstinately as opposed to egraciating his long limbs on the blanket Jim thought to lay out. Opposed and utterly vouched for unpleasantries, he remained in silence with his ‘blatant, rational reasoning’ striving to seep from the tip of his tongue as it had on the car ride over.

“What logical reason is there to stranding ourselves–“

“We aren’t stranded, unless you desire to be,” Jim corrected with a brief smile.

“-In the middle of no where-”
“Wicken Fen, Cambridge could easily protest as a location-”

“To simply stargaze?”

Regardless of the amusement enticed by Sherlock’s haughty antics, Jim found himself momentarily admiring the doctor’s patience; if all but momentarily. Drawing away from his lense, Jim rolled his neck, curling his toes in the grass at the satisfying pop. “Sherlock,” he hummed lightly, reaching out to tug the man’s scarf.

Holmes’ mouth merely firmed. What a broody child, he pouted mentally. However, despite Sherlock’s fortitude of embitterment, he received no protest at the touch. Drawing the man near by the blue fabric, he stroked his thumb across the width of the scarf.

“Darling,” he addressed him softly. Sherlock’s flickering blue ire regarded him petulantly. “I scarcely have a weekend, and I’ve been desperately away from my office.”

Sherlock shrugged indifferently.

“The bortle scale is disgustingly polluted in London, besides,” Jim frowned.

“How you regard light pollution is as blatant as you regard humanity,” Sherlock murmured in riposte.

Jim smiled at that. “I like it when you talk,” he returned, brushing away a dark curl stray at the man’s brow.

“I adore it when your missions to drag me to Wicken Fen fail,” he returned sardonically. Yet, therein presented the grandeur of the consulting detective’s exquisite subtitles. Sherlock’s mouth twitched minutely into a smile.

He slid his hands over the taller man’s shoulders, looping his arms around his narrow waist. “Lie with me?” Jim asked softly. “Or, you know, I could start referencing the list of threats I’ve allocated against you,” he chuckled.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Digressing from my sentiments about star gazing, I wouldn’t be here unless I strictly wanted to be.”

“Cheeky.”

Fingers tangled in the consulting detective’s unruly locks, Jim threaded through in time with Sherlock’s smooth, steady inhales. Gazes mutually cast to the night sky, Sherlock emitted a low hum, akin to a deep rumble.

“I do not bear contempt for star gazing.”

“I didn’t ask, did I?” Jim languidly returned.

“You wanted to.”

He smiled. “Quite so.”

Sherlock shifted against the man’s chest. While summer was upon their wet nation, the bared, cloudless sky sought to encapsulate little heat.

“Astronomy is irrelevant.”

Jim painfully protested, as Sherlock knew, but he permitted his own silence for the continuance.

“All attentions of humanity should be, in every regard, on that in which humanity encompass’.” He paused, placing a restive hand against Jim’s chest; perhaps unbeknownst. “When each sorry individual that toils for sheer Darwinism casts their gaze onward, I do believe that it should be one of undeniably lacking attention. For, through myth or lore, there should not be reason to the sky above us, as there are far too many details down here.”

Jim capitulated under the buckling fondness he felt for the entirety of Holmes. “You’re quite the philosopher, Mr. Holmes,” he taunted mildly. “You take sentiment in mysticism and desire it to remain the beauty in which it can be observed to be.”

“Put simply,” he frowned. “It is beautiful, after all. The night sky.”

Pressing a kiss against Sherlock’s temple, he eased his fingers along the consulting detective’s pallor. “You’re simply astounding.”


posted 4 months ago with 3 notes • • reblog

#[Apologies for the RPs I've been ignoring. While I've been posting a little bit
#I really am preoccupied with my studies.
#I hope you darlings forgive me [cries]]
#Sherlock Holmes
#Reichenbach
#Shwatsonlock
#Johnlock
#John Watson
Reichenbach Slumber [Shwatsonlock Drabble]

            As the faint scent of tea permeated the flat, Sherlock’s mouth pursed as he repressed a smile. Watson’s gait had steadied in accordance with his previous psychosomatic imposition. Craning his neck to take in the audible familiarity of the doctor climbing the stairs, he drew a satisfied breath at the distant inquiry of John’s call.

            Distant.          

            Breath hastening in a restive slumber, Sherlock’s eyes snapped open. The imaginative guise of reality of Baker Street fell away in consciousness, and the worn vision of his hotel came into focus; he merely dozed off.

            He turned his cheek to the window; blue ire searching wearily. The consulting detective pressed his eyes shut and breathed a flattened sigh.

            “John,” he whispered.


posted 4 months ago with 1 note • • reblog

#jimlock
#drabble
#writing drabble
#jim/sherlock
#[This is silly. Why did I.]
#fluff
#is this fluff
#maybe
#probably
Embrace [Jimlock drabble]

            “Congratulations for your new published work, James,” Sherlock hummed drearily.

            “Did you even read it?” Moriarty scoffed, rubbing his hands together to continue the unpleasant battle against the frigid air.

            Tutting in riposte, the consulting detective’s paused in his gait. “It was highly engaging,” he intoned sardonically.” He spread his arms, “Embrace me.”

            “Highly engaging, you say,” he chuckled. Jim tugged the man’s scarf, drawing him near. “I doubt you even read the title page.” Pursing his lips petulantly, he arched a brow, “But, I should prefer a kiss, you know.”

            Sighing in accordance, Holmes placed his hands against the consulting criminal’s ribs, skimming down his waist. His bowed lips brushed against his ear. “Make no mistake: I neglected to define ‘embrace,’ James.” Sherlock’s fingers dipped below the man’s belt, heat radiating between them.

            Sherlock stepped away. “For future reference, however, I didn’t read your book.”


posted 4 months ago with 4 notes • • reblog

#adamworth
#[Take the thing.]
Judas Kiss

adam-worth:

dicproposito:

            Rumbling clamourously, veins of lightning and thunder illuminated the sky from its encroaching seven-point-five distance. With each passing second accounted to measure the distance of the natural chaos, Sherlock mentally associated the biting rain to the onomatopoeia of a persistent street sweeper. The globules of water weeping from the sky had succeeded in its persistence to soak through his overcoat within the past half hour. His previously voluminous curls depressed in their form to hang wetly against his skull. Pallid countenance ashen, droplets of moisture clung to the arcs of his cheeks and fullness of his bowed pink lips. Capitulation of morality held the soles of his oxfords to the concrete below.

            His elongated neck craned from the saturated frigidity of his blue scarf, looking onward to the apartments above. Sherlock’s collected, stoic countenance altered within his gaze. Brow slanting in excruciating pain, his heels scraped against the slickened sidewalk.

            Rising rigidly from his side, the consulting detective’s hand trembled as he retrieved his mobile from his pocket. He hollowed his cheeks, thumb nails biting harshly against the sides of his cell.

You’re rather difficult to locate. May I come up?
SH

     There’s something perverse in watching. Second hand ministrations echoed from the detective and distorted to exude themselves in a travesty; but addictions, they’re instilled within him. Much like the poison his ever beloved other half indulged in. James can feel himself drowning within those pasty veins, instead of panicking amidst addiction, he is aroused with the asphyxiation.

    Unlike Sherlock, the rain is a omen of tranquility— ironic, as it evokes the presence of he. There’s almost a ”singing in the rain” charade to it’s aromatic pandemonium. Rarely, if ever, is he calm. Never is he calm. However, sometimes— when it rains; the statelessness submerges, and seduces his veins. Devours his insides, such is the price of all the static swarming within his mind. 

   The text is not entirely unexpected, which isn’t to say he’d entirely anticipated it. Certainly not now. Instead of feeling electric with the fore-coming presence of his stimulant, it makes him disquieted. Restive fingers dancing away against his patella. As ever, decorum is exhibited purely out of the extraneous inquisition nestled within him— the ballet, however, is still to come… 

Purposefully. - M.

      There’s an intentional delay, in which he’s sagacious in this engagement. Formal consideration permeating the silence betwixt the two— for a moment he’s adamant on declining Sherlock. Then,

If you must. - M.

While his stride carried him numbly to the elevator, his thumb merely hovered over the ascending button. Casting a sideways glance to the ever-imposing security camera, Sherlock’s arm fell limply at his side as his beseeching blue ire held steady in a silent plea.

His languid step echoed against the lobby’s tiling. Pallid fingers curling around the chrome handle, he opened the door to the stair well and stood haplessly at the concrete base. Gaze following his ascension, the consulting detective exited accordingly to his destination and sauntered down the hall to the man’s door. 


posted 4 months ago with 3 notes • via adam-worth©dicpropositoreblog

#adam-worth
#adamworth
#[I haven't played him in an atrociously long time
#so suck it if you find any errs.]
Judas Kiss

            Rumbling clamourously, veins of lightning and thunder illuminated the sky from its encroaching seven-point-five distance. With each passing second accounted to measure the distance of the natural chaos, Sherlock mentally associated the biting rain to the onomatopoeia of a persistent street sweeper. The globules of water weeping from the sky had succeeded in its persistence to soak through his overcoat within the past half hour. His previously voluminous curls depressed in their form to hang wetly against his skull. Pallid countenance ashen, droplets of moisture clung to the arcs of his cheeks and fullness of his bowed pink lips. Capitulation of morality held the soles of his oxfords to the concrete below.

            His elongated neck craned from the saturated frigidity of his blue scarf, looking onward to the apartments above. Sherlock’s collected, stoic countenance altered within his gaze. Brow slanting in excruciating pain, his heels scraped against the slickened sidewalk.

            Rising rigidly from his side, the consulting detective’s hand trembled as he retrieved his mobile from his pocket. He hollowed his cheeks, thumb nails biting harshly against the sides of his cell.

You’re rather difficult to locate. May I come up?
SH


posted 5 months ago with 3 notes • • reblog

image

[To those who I’ve previously written with: I’m distantly sorry.

To those pending: Hello. If anyone has taken note (I doubt anyone actually has), I’ve been atrociously inactive for…x amount of time. While I have decided to continue this account, I’ve come back at a terribly bizarre time (for my part of the globe, in the very least). Instead of entrancing randomly only to leave, I shall get to all messages/RPs I have currently within my drafts sometime soon. Ah, rambling.

Ignore the above.

Summary: I’m back. I’ll get back to you soon. However, sleep for now.]


posted 5 months ago with 0 notes • • reblog

#open rp
#rp
#Sherlock Holmes
#Sherlock RP
#Sherlock
Open RP

Lulling his head against the arm of the sofa, his bowed lips curved simultaneously into a frown. “I hadn’t expected you,” Sherlock intoned derisively.


posted 5 months ago with 0 notes • • reblog

#Anonymous
Anonymous whispered: Oh, I forgot to say that the last one was correct. Now I'm off to find sleep.

Bonne nuit et fais des beaux rêves, étranger.


posted 5 months ago with 0 notes • • reblog

#[Furthermore - in accordance with your tired state - I would recommend one of two options: caffeine
#or sleep.]
#Anonymous
Anonymous whispered: I'm well. Tired. Yet having fun at the moment. Not overtly religious myself, but that was too easy wasn't it? Apologies to the highest accord. Hopefully the next will be harder for you. This item of lore is prized by man, created by him, yet kept safe by a women. What is it?

Lore cannot be an item (as it is the passing of knowledge) unless consummated. Taken in a sexual interpretation - with the additional fact that the ‘item’ is kept safe by women - I believe the answer is children in the womb.

I’m pleased to hear that you’re benefiting from this simultaneously. We haven’t spoken before, have we? I haven’t bothered rationalizing your identity with the defense of the waning hour. 


posted 5 months ago with 0 notes • • reblog