February 2012
13 posts
hisloyalbloggerjw:
highfunctioningsociopath:
Sherlock helps the doctor to his feet, supporting him as he goes, replacing the cane John seemed to rely on so heavily now.
I’m sorry.
He took on most of Johns weight, helping the other man to his room, their room… the bedroom. He didn’t know what to call it any more. He noted piles of ‘stuff’ inthe corridor. Cardboard boxes that had never been...
hisloyalbloggerjw:
highfunctioningsociopath:
Sherlocks hands went to Johns temples and he pressed very lightly with his thumbs into the shallow dips of Johns skull. “Remind me to send a large chocolate cake with extra icing to that dear brother of mine.” He half glared, brushing his thumbs back and forth over Johns skin.
It’s too cold for you to be in here. Come to the bedroom, let me love...
hisloyalbloggerjw:
highfunctioningsociopath:
Sherlock released John, feeling the slightest of jolts from the good doctor and sitting back in his chair. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He fixed the other man with a piercing gaze, mind racing to calculate the level of damage and time needed for the hidden scars to heal.
“How long were you held? And when were you released?” He asked softly, steepling...
hisloyalbloggerjw:
highfunctioningsociopath:
Sherlock set the tray down in the living room, returning and lightly touching John’s shoulder.
Come on John… come to the living room and sit in your chair.
The consulting detective took a slow deep breath when John didn’t move and shifted to sit beside John, gathering him up in his arms. “I’m sorry…” He was so quiet, slightly raspy and ever so...
hisloyalbloggerjw:
highfunctioningsociopath:
hisloyalbloggerjw:
highfunctioningsociopath:
Sherlock followed John into the kitchen, never more than a foot away from the Doctor. He quietly watched John, taking his time. There was something wrong, he hadn’t taken John to be this calm and collected over his return. “John…stop.” He steps forward, taking over the making of the tea and ushering...
7 tags
2 tags
hisloyalbloggerjw:
highfunctioningsociopath:
Sherlock followed John into the kitchen, never more than a foot away from the Doctor. He quietly watched John, taking his time. There was something wrong, he hadn’t taken John to be this calm and collected over his return. “John…stop.” He steps forward, taking over the making of the tea and ushering the good doctor back into his seat.
Now stay...
hisloyalbloggerjw:
highfunctioningsociopath:
hisloyalbloggerjw:
((OOC: YOU ARE DOING BRILLIANTLY! DGKHLGJKS I LOVE IT! Uhm, I ship Johnlock like there’s no tomorrow so if you want to do that, that’d be cool!))
John grumbles about being unable to walk up the ruddy stairs and that it is far too cold out for the power to be off. He sighs.
“If I weren’t so bloody happy that you’re back, I’d...
hisloyalbloggerjw:
((OOC: YOU ARE DOING BRILLIANTLY! DGKHLGJKS I LOVE IT! Uhm, I ship Johnlock like there’s no tomorrow so if you want to do that, that’d be cool!))
John grumbles about being unable to walk up the ruddy stairs and that it is far too cold out for the power to be off. He sighs.
“If I weren’t so bloody happy that you’re back, I’d shoot you.”
Sherlock smiled softly, stooping to...
hisloyalbloggerjw:
highfunctioningsociopath:
A little high strung lately?
The gun doesn’t surprise the man, nor does it make him flinch in any fashion. He knows John, knows the soldier wouldn’t fire unless it meant his life were at stake. He was still a Doctor after all.
“Hello John.” His words are short, simple. Voice cutting into the night air and resonating around Johns ears. A voice...
hisloyalbloggerjw:
highfunctioningsociopath:
I’m not a visitor~
The figure smiles at the sound of life, only a slight curl of a lip, a spark of light behind the eyes. Tired eyes that needed rest and comfort. He knocks again, knowing his voice would be a dead giveaway.
Knock Knock
He lowered his head as a cab drove by, headlights too bright for someone who had been used to hiding in the...
4 tags
Anonymous asked: I can't offer you 'asks' but I...
((If you’re sure… ))
221b, feels like a lifetime ago. In a sense…it was.
It was dark in Baker Street, there were no street lamps, no porch lamps. Even the cafe beneath 221b was engulfed in darkness. There had been a mains blowout in London Zoo that had caused more than just the NW post codes to fall into darkness.
This was an opportunity.
A tall figure, wrapped in a dark...