theunbeatableconductoroflig-blog

[theunbeatableconductoroflig-blog]

hello, doctor watson.

[theunbeatableconductoroflig-blog]

Excuse me whilst I smeewch my sweet wins.

ok, you might go "break out the frenchers you prude”, but 1. can’t draw it and 2. I like smooching. I still feel a bit weird about this though.

I realise how weird Sherlock looks in here, gdi . Maybe pretend they’re on the stairs, Sherlock two higher than John…?

[theunbeatableconductoroflig-blog]

John did not believe in the workings of a God or fate but if he did he would be wondering what exactly they had in store for him by running into Jim Moriarty. He wondered exactly what in his life he might have changed by coming down this alley. Was he actually hoping something thrilling to happen? Get it together, Watson. He knew most likely he would share a few more brief words with the madman, before continuing on his merry way back to the stale air of two-two-one-b which had seemed to lose its life and luster. "Oh, I am, trust me," John started, his heavy lidded gaze carefully locked onto Moriarty's. "But I'm beginning to wonder if I died long ago and you're my eternal punishment." Sarcasm, more of that badly placed humor. He may not have been Sherlock but it was clear Moriarty was aiming to die that day, and he knew he should be furious--and in a way he was. He was angry at all one man could cause, all this one man before him ruined, but at the same time there was an air around him unfamiliar to the one which John had remembered, and something about the fact he was forced drag on in life with his 'greatest game' gone. "One actually," there were so many more than one, but he wouldn't allow Moriarty the satisfaction of talking down to him and explaining his plot. "How's it feel to be living?"

Sherlock’s suicide and the ‘truth’ which was released about his ‘fraud’ had finally began to cool over. Sure, John was still guilty by association, getting looks of pity or harsh judgement by however passed. Sometimes there would be the bugger who decided to go the extra mile and tell him so profanity directed at himself, or how Sherlock’s work was genuine. He knew that, he just wished people would move their eyes off of him. Didn’t matter, he needed to focus on work anyways. 

"I’m sorry, Sarah, but I have to clock out early today—" a rarity. “I just am not feeling up to par." Which wasn’t entirely a lie, physically he felt fine—tired, maybe—but his mind was far from sound. A patient came in with her child, and without meaning to he observed her—/deduced/ her. It felt like Sherlock was right there pointing out her attributes and what they meant. For the first time since the man’s death he felt unsettled. “Just probably a cold, I’ll see you tomorrow." With a click, John snapped his phone shut before slipping it into his trouser pocket, on a whim taking a short cut he remembered down an alley to get back to the flat much more quickly. He still didn’t doubt his ability to take any punk who tried to mess with him, but he hadn’t expected to see who he did. 

What the elder took for a drunk, unable to walk became more clear as he drew new with full intention of passing them without a second glance. Well, before he saw who they were. Stopping dead in his tracks with his eyes fixated on the other, John stared down at the infamous Jim Moriarty. 

‘How are you alive’, ‘why are you here’, ‘what are you doing’, all questions he wanted to ask but didn’t, instead John parted thin lips and spoke, “Why am I not surprised?"

[theunbeatableconductoroflig-blog]

John couldn't help but smile at not receiving rejection from the woman, "Well you're currently on Baker Street--here, London is an easy place to get lost in, so why don't we grab some dinner at this nice place I know, and you tell me about yourself? Afterwards we can pick you up a map."

+love-fuels-our-dreams

Belle raised her eyebrows at the last suggestion " Well I am indeed new around here.. Actually I’m not to sure where here is.." She pondered the last thing he said then smiled a bit " I do suppose I am a tad bit hungry." the librarian bit her lower lip " Oh and maybe a map." She laughed.

[theunbeatableconductoroflig-blog]

"Yeah, I know," John responded to Sherlock's surprise, still staring at the screen. "How did they find your site before mine?" He asked looking up at the brunette who was crawling in his direction, though had really no intention or care of actually having the question answered. A case was a case. If it had been anyone else, at the invasion of personal space John might have retaliated(sometimes he did with Sherlock), but this happened more often than he would ever admit to anyone, and he had become quite used to it. While Sherlock read the message aloud John couldn't help but think how odd the entire situation sounded, his face twisting into more of an expression of disbelief as it further went on. "The Red-Headed League?" John frowned, shooting Sherlock a bit of a glare as his laptop was snatch but dismissed it with a "You're welcome." Before leaning over his shoulder to see what he was going to type. "We might as well inform your brother. He might make a nice addition." Sarcasm. The blonde continued to watch Sherlock type, the pitter patter of skilled fingers racing across the keyboard with ease. His eyes momentarily moved from the computer to Sherlock to watch the other's expression, curious as to whether his partner actually to interest in the case or was desperate. At this point it might be a mix of both. His attention flicked back on the computer screen, when he breathed in. What was that smell? It wasn't bad--no, it was familiar. Returning his gaze to Sherlock he narrowed his eyes, sniffing again. "Is that...my aftershave?"

The Red-Headed League

Sherlock made a pained ‘oof’ noise when kicked, and turned onto his side to glare at John with his sharpest look. Still, when John spoke, his eyebrows lifted, a hopeful glint coming into his eyes.

“My site?" he repeated incredulously, but rolled to crawl up toward John, peering over his shoulder. He budged John’s arm, crowding his flatmate’s personal space in order to scroll down further, reading the message left for him in a comment. He read it aloud, lips moving along in a quick pace. 

“Dear Mr Holmes," he read, then scoffed slightly, but forewent it to keep going, "your cases have always held the greatest of interests to me, and when I found your website, I knew your eye for detail was exactly what I needed. I’ve been faced with a very curious case—"

He stopped there, letting out a sharp, “Aha!" of excitement, then continued. "I had found an advertisement from a suspicious group known only as the Red-Headed League,  offering two hundred pounds a week to ginger men who are of sound mind and body and over the age of twenty-one. I will be happy to tell you the rest in person should you take the case.

Signed,

Jabez Wilson."

Sherlock’s face took on a confused expression, and then a grin overtook his features. “How curious, how… very, very curious," he muttered to himself, and to John, still seated next to him. “Budge over. I want to email him." He was already snatching the laptop out of John’s hands, resting it atop his own lap. 

[theunbeatableconductoroflig-blog]

"Thank you," he spoke nearly, but his attention not on Dr. Lecter himself but the office. It was extraordinary, it was a marvel he could even afford this, but somehow he could and here he was.  John had wanted to return to America for some time now, but he had never once thought it'd be for therapy. When his eyes flicked back on the psychiatrist, John forced his lips into a thin smile. "But no thanks." He slowly made his way further into the office, looking over at the other male seeing if he had permission to sit and when it was granted he did. "So, how do we start...this."

+ i-will-keep-your-secret

"The pleasure if truly mine Dr. Watson, please do come in." Hannibal replied stepping aside to allow the fellow doctor into the office. He had been surprised when Dr. Watson had made an appointment with him. His research on the man was interesting to say the least. “Would you care for anything to drink?" he asked once they had found themselves securely within his office. It was best to make the Doctor comfortable during a session, especially the first. 

[theunbeatableconductoroflig-blog]

[theunbeatableconductoroflig-blog]

Military Sign Language

[theunbeatableconductoroflig-blog]

My Top 10 Favorite WDAS Films #2 [1/2] → T h e  G r e a t  M o u s e  D e t e c t i v e

There's always a chance, Doctor, as long as one can think.

[theunbeatableconductoroflig-blog]

Ozzy Osbourne - Crazy Train 

[theunbeatableconductoroflig-blog]

1/20 male characters →John Watson

No, I’m not. I’m just not interested.

[theunbeatableconductoroflig-blog]

"No - no, it's fine, really. Don't worry about it, you know you are welcome here anytime." John glanced over towards the direction of Sherlock's room, gesturing towards it with his thumb. "No matter what Houdini says." Though at the question for his assistance on a case, John blinked twice, a bit surprised. He, John Hamish Watson, was offered the option to assist on a case, without his flatmate. "Of course, I'd be willing to help, but do you have any details on the case I can know about going in?"

+ dirtyrottenmuses

[theunbeatableconductoroflig-blog]

+ i-will-keep-your-secret

"Dr. Lecter, I presume?" The blonde asked, as he rose to his feet from the waiting room. "John Watson, your four-thirty appointment." He forced a polite smile upon the meet of his psychiatrist--god, he was actually going to a psychiatrist. He never would have thought himself to end up here a few months ago. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

[theunbeatableconductoroflig-blog]

what do you mean i have to reply to this roleplay

me all day everyday

[theunbeatableconductoroflig-blog]

[theunbeatableconductoroflig-blog]

"So, no." John arched his brows releasing an 'uh-huh', while he fixated his gaze back onto the screen, typing in the url to Sherlock's site, and while he was waiting for the page to load he felt the bed's springs sink slightly under the newly added weight when his flatmate flopped across it. His gaze once more moved back onto Sherlock, pursing his lips, lofting his right brow. While the feral-haired male complained the veteran reared back his bare foot, before kicking it out connecting with the other with enough force to remove him from the bed. A smug look of satisfaction resulting from the action. "Sorry, it's a twitch." He spoke, his tone falsely apologetic. Azure optics returned to the screen, expression changing to one of a more curious nature. "Uh, Sherlock," John's eyes were unmoving from the screen, though he scooted over slightly, right hand patting a spot up next to him by the head of the bed for the detective to sit. "Come look at this. You haven't checked your site today have you?" The faintest hints of a smile playing at his thin lips. "I think your waiting is over."

+theunbeatableconductoroflight

"She knows better than to move my things by now," Sherlock insisted, though no, he hadn’t asked her. She likely had moved them, if John himself hadn’t. Annoyed with himself, with John, with Mrs Hudson and basically with the world, he turned sharply, the hem of his robe swishing about his calves. “They were for an experiment." 

Bored, he sat on the edge of John’s bed, immediately flopping onto his bed, positioned sideways at the foot. “John," he said. “John, I’m so tediously bored. We haven’t had a case in three weeks. Three weeks, how am I supposed to go another day without anything to do?"

[theunbeatableconductoroflig-blog]