#johnblogsstuff

[titsoverarse]

I’m just getting home from my brother’s wedding reception.  It was beautiful.  John’s speech was beautiful.  I cried all over my brand new Miss Selfridges dress.  

God, they both looked so happy it made me sick.  They couldn’t even take their hands off of each other all night, I’m fairly certain they had it off in the loo at one point, they missing for at least twenty minutes at one point.  And the way they looked at each other!  I’m surprised everyone in the room didn’t die of a sugar overdose.  

The food was bloody fantastic, and I actually managed not to drink a single drop of alcohol.  I wanted to make my brother proud, and before I left he hugged me and said ‘thank you’, so I think I did.  

But let me tell you all, those two are probably the most ‘in-love’ couple I’ve ever seen.  They’re just so in-sync with each other.  They orbit each other, they always have, but now there’s this comfort about it, instead of tension.  They look so happy and healthy and glowing.  

I joke, but they have what everyone only dreams of, and I’m so happy for John. he deserves this.

[johnnlocked]

Waking up and seeing @studyindeduction and @johnblogsstuff are engaged. I’m not crying with happiness at all! Stop saying that, I’m just… there are no people in the world who deserve it more and I have allergies! T_T

[anotherwellkeptsecret]

Hi, Kelly. So I wondered when @johnblogsstuff and @studyindeduction discover Walt Disney's the Great Mouse Detective? XD

They need to see that immediately!! I mean, it’s a great kid’s movie and everything.

[beadmaven]

Happy Valentine's Day

To my favorite couples: @smollto and @handcuffs-and-football And @johnblogsstuff and @studyindeduction You all deserve every bit of lovin' today.

[studyindeduction]

Let me tell you about my John…

I don’t think he would mind me saying this, but the John you see is a bit deceptive.  It’s not that he isn’t strong, and brave, and stoic, and occasionally grumpy and gruff.  He is all those things.  But he isn’t only those things, and it is those other things that most people never get to see, and which I do, that I am so grateful for.  I don’t know why I’m the special one, I’m the one he’s chosen to open himself to, but I’m so grateful that I am.

My John, the one only I get to see, murmurs to his daughter in coos, and sweet streams of baby-talk, in the wee hours of the morning, as he changes her diaper.  He walks his fingers over her belly to make her smile and kick her feet.  He sings soft lullabies to her as he cradles her to his chest, and feeds her.   He looks at Emma and I with eyes so full and open, and sometimes he sits down beside me on the couch when I’m playing with her, wraps his arm around us both, and tells me that we are his everything.

My John takes such good care of me.  I’m not an easy person to live with, or to love, but love me, he does—unconditionally.  He walks up behind me in the mornings, when I am still bleary with sleep, and wraps his arms around my waist, and plants a tender kiss to my neck, and presses a cup of coffee into my hand without a word.  

He senses when I am restless, or anxious, or just overwhelmed, and says my name, orders me to sit at his feet, rubs soothing circles against my scalp until all the tension lets go.  

He is my bridge to the world, reminding me when I am pushing forward, without thought, burning bridges, stepping on feet.  He keeps me right—always.  

He is my conductor of light, focussing my thoughts, calming me, somehow pulling deductions, solutions, and even fantasies from my mind that I never could have accessed without the light and insight he provides.  

He helps me see myself with kinder eyes, and no one—no one has ever been able to do that before.

My John is strong, yes, so strong, but also soft.  And sometimes he lets me see.  Sometimes there is fear in his eyes.  Sometimes there are tears.  Sometimes he wakes with a start in the middle of the night, and reaches out for me desperately in the dark, and won’t be calmed until I pull him close, and tangle our, limbs, until I breathe comfort against his temple, and trace soothing trails down his spine.

My John is so funny.  He always finds ways to make me laugh, and he seems to find me funny, too, which is something I’ve never known before.  It’s a gift to be able to laugh with someone, lightly, with no effort, to just connect so well with them, that you just ‘get’ one another.  Humour is such a delicate, nuanced art.  it always seemed to take more effort than it was worth, but John, my John, he just understands, he thinks I’m funny and he understands what makes me laugh, and it’s wonderful.

My John always has my back, in everything.  He would kill for me, die for me, as I would for him.  He is fiercely protective, of not only my life, my body, my person, but my heart and my soul as well.  I have never felt safe with another person the way I feel safe with him.  I have never known, without hesitation, or doubt, that I can trust someone, unfailingly, in all things, before him.  

He is my home, my church, my safe place to fall.  If I believe in anything it’s in him, in his love for me, and this unfathomable thing I feel for him.

My John is perfect—perfect for me.  And he is so much more than he appears on the surface.

[titsoverarse]

Oh John, our dad was an absolute dick who gave me nothing but years of therapy, and AA meetings, but you're nothing like him.  You’ve never been anything like him.

I never knew he screwed you over too, I was too busy paying attention to myself.  I’m sorry.

[johnnlocked]

u seeing the emma situation!!!!???? i am so pissed rn

Just read up. 

I can not believe her gall! That dreadful, horrible woman. I hope @studyindeduction and @johnblogsstuff find her soon and put her to justice. How dare she?! How freaking dare she?!

[studyindeduction]

Secret photos of John? Do tell! ;)

Not that kind of photo. 🙄

[studyindeduction]

18th February, 2015

Emma,

You won’t remember anything that has happened to you the last several days, at least I’m fairly certain you won’t.  Even your uncle Myc doesn’t remember things that far back, and his memory is rather a freak of nature.  I’m grateful you won’t remember.  I want you to remember being loved, cherished, safe, adored.  I don’t want you to remember this brief period where you were snatched from us, and hidden away where we couldn’t reach you when you needed us.

I want to tell you about your mother.  Your mother is wildly intelligent, incredible reflexes, well-honed deductive reasoning.  She is clever, talented and formidable.  If you were to grow up to have half her intelligence and focus, you would be a very remarkable woman, indeed.  I know that by the time you are old enough to read this, you will likely not remember her.  She will have never been a part of your life.  There are reasons for that.  Your mother did some very wicked things, and such things come at a price.  As of this writing, I don’t know all of what that price will entail, but I do know this, she will not be permitted to see you again.  This is for your safety.  Perhaps someday, when you are older still, we will tell you the full story.  But for now, know that your dad and I have only, ever, had your very best interests at heart.

And so we come to your dad.  Let me tell you about him...  

You’ve known him from the very first moments of your life.  When your mother had you, we thought that she had died.  She wanted it that way, for purposes of her own, and so, from the moment you came home from the hospital, you and your dad came back to live at my flat.  

He and I had shared a flat for nearly a year and half, in the past, and then I had to go away for two years.  I didn’t want to, but there were wicked people threatening your dad, and he was my best, and only friend, and I loved him too much to risk his being hurt.  I didn’t know he loved me, then.  I didn’t think he’d miss me.  I was wrong, and it was a very difficult time for him when I was gone.

It was then that he met your mother.  She came in, and was exactly what he needed, she kept him afloat, when he was horribly low.  And when I finally was able to return to London, after two years away, your mother and dad had decided to get married.

I loved your dad, so of course, I was sad.  I missed him.  But his happiness was the most important thing to me, and marrying your mother seemed to make him happy.  I’m grateful, in some ways.  If he had not been with her, married her, then we would not have you now, and I can’t imagine life without you, even though we have only had you in our life for a couple of weeks.  But, I am also very happy that things turned out as they did in the end, and your dad was able to come home, and be with me again.  As, I’m sure you are well aware, life just isn’t as wonderful without your dad around.

So, as I said, after you were born, and your mother ‘died’, your dad came back to live with me.  And he immediately poured all his focus and energy into caring for you, and being the most remarkable dad you can imagine.  I have loved watching him with you, these first two weeks, the way he holds you, the efficient way he seems able to do all those necessary ‘care giving’ duties common to a newborn child.  Nappies, and feeding, and establishing a sleep schedule for you.  He’s very good at that you, know.  He gets after me to eat and sleep, too, when I’ve been forgetting.  We should both be very grateful to him for that.  Your dad loves to care for the people he loves.  To make sure they are well, to protect them.  It is the healer and soldier in him, I suppose.  But we are both very lucky to have him, and you must never forget that!  I lived many long years without him, and they were not happy years.  

In this very moment you are missing.  You’ve been taken away by some very bad people.  And your dad has hardly let himself rest for even the briefest of moments.  He has been ferocious with rage.  I want you to know that.  Your dad would do absolutely anything to keep you safe—because he loves you, and when your dad loves someone he will go to battle for them, he will spend his last breath ensuring that they come home safely, and that is what he is doing now.  He’s fighting hard to bring you home again.

Your dad is the best man I have ever known.  He is brave, loyal, soft, strong, filled with so much love he seems to be tearing apart at the seams with it, sometimes.  He is fierce and gentle all at once.  It is such a contrast, and seems such a miracle that both things should occur, at once, in one person.  But, in your dad, they do.  So of course, I fell in love with him.  

I think I fell in love with him from the very first moment, our first meeting (I’ll tell you that story someday).  I did.  I loved him from the start.  But I have fallen in love with him a little more with every passing day.  And that includes the two years I was away from him.  Perhaps that is when I really realised how much I loved him, how essential he was to me, how life did not seem bright, or joyous, or filled with hope, without him there to share it with.  

And so I married him.  Oh, we’re not married yet, but we will be very soon.  We are wearing one another’s rings.  In fact, your dad gave me my ring the night you were stolen from us.  So, every time I look down and see it there on my finger, my determination to bring you home is renewed afresh.  Whenever I look at that ring, I don’t only see your dad, and the undying love I have for him, but I see you too, and I remember how much I love you, how much you have been a part of my life from the start, as well, and my determination to bring you home, flares hot, and bright in my heart.

So know, this Emma.  We will be bringing you home again, any day now.  You will be safe, from that moment forward.  I swear it.  Your dad and I will do everything in our power to ensure that.  And you will always be loved, protected, encouraged, nurtured, and absolutely drowned in love, and acceptance.  Both your dad and I had a difficult time growing up.  And we want better for you.  We promise you, that we will do better.

Hold on, little bee.  We’ll be there to get you soon,

Papa

[studyindeduction]

That fainting gif though. 😁 I can totally see you doing that, Sherlock.

So can I!! 😳

[studyindeduction]

The Situation

I’m posting this for Sherlock, because he’s in no state.  

There’s been an incident at John and Sherlock’s flat.  I can’t go into the details, as there is an investigation, however, I can tell you how they are doing.

Mrs. Hudson had a blow to the head, and lost consciousness for several minutes, as well as requiring a few stitches, so they’re keeping her here for observation over night.  

Emma is perfectly alright, just a little shaken.  I’ve heard from Sherlock’s brother, and apparently their parents are heading into London to help with her care while things are so unsettled.  

John was shot, in the thigh.  There was a lot of blood loss, most likely a femoral artery knick.  Sherlock did well, and I’m not sure that John would still be with us if he hadn’t have kept his head, and followed, to a tee, the instructions John gave him before losing consciousness.

John is in surgery right now, and we’re just waiting.  The blood loss is always a problem in wounds of this kind, but we are hoping for the best.  It is a very serious place to be shot, so if you could send John positive thoughts, or if you’re the praying type, do that, I’m sure it would be appreciated.

Sherlock is alright.  He’s in shock, and being observed for that.  He’s also a little mentally/emotionally--addled, which is to be expected in a situation like this.  Take that into consideration when sending him notes here.  Go easy on him.

-- Greg Lestrade

[studyindeduction]

Emma laughed today!

I was very surprised.  We got her bee plush toy in the post today, and I was showing it to her, and then John starting moving it around and making buzzing sounds, and she laughed out loud!

This is quite a bit ahead of the traditionally accepted developmental schedule, if I’m not mistaken.

[studyindeduction]

Speaking of John looking like Steve McQueen, this is why I think that John should wear that brown leather bomber jacket he keeps at the back of his closet more often. 😉

[studyindeduction]

What does John's love feel like, if its even describable?

Like precious rain after a decade’s long drought, like belonging, and safety, and finally, finally finding family that feels like home.  

Like soft, snowy winter nights, when the world gets still and quiet, and it’s dark early, and it should be bleak, but it makes you ache in some strange way you, don’t understand, and it makes you want to get warmer, get softer, get quieter yourself, makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, it’s okay to love yourself, spoil yourself, for a little while.

Like rainy spring days in the park, when everything is washed clean, and all the world is just starting to stir back to life, and it makes you feel just a little cleaner, just a little more alive, too.  

Like early summer days when the air is cool but the sun is so warm, and you can’t help but turn your face toward it, bask in that warmth, and it warms you through, and you feel your hope start to return, and your heart start to open.

Like crisp autumn evenings in the country, the smell of woodsmoke, and fresh cut hay, and decaying leaves on the wind, and you ache a little because you know that all this beauty is just a sign of the fleeting seasons, the year drawing close to it’s own season of death.  But somehow that knowledge makes it all the more precious, every second precious and more lovely than the last, because it reminds you that everything is fleeting, and all we have is this moment, right here, right now, and so we should soak up every ache and joy.  

Loving John has been a revelation.

[studyindeduction]

You could translate the French for John. Or...just whisper French in his ears. I bet he'd love that.

You may be right.  My voice has very desirable effects on him.

[studyindeduction]

Someone took Emma

she’s gone. 

when we got home from dinner we found the flat in disarray, and mrs. hudson tied and gagged.  she’s alright.  mostly in shock.  mostly blaming herself.  but it’s not her fault.  all she did was answer the door, and two men pushed their way in.  she says she didn’t know them.

scotland yard and my brother just left.  but Emma’s gone, and there are no leads, and I just thought you all should know, because John and i might not be around our blogs as much in the coming days.  

we have to find her.  we have to.  she’s still on the breast milk from the milk bank, and they didn’t take any.  they didn’t take anything she needs...