bohemain

[bohemain]

Love Songs (2007) dir. Christophe Honoré

[bohemain]

will i crawl out of my tumblr grave once more... mayhaps

[bohemain]

▉ ――   It’s that mock-innocence that wildly confuses him :   she’s brilliant,   has the features of an angel and a heart of gold.   It’s undeniably easy to like her presence ––   and yet that fluttering of eyelashes never means a good thing.   It’s intriguing,   so much so that Sherlock squints his eyes at her,           “            At least it’s not Gaboriau’s Lecoq.             ”             He represses a sardonic sniff.            “           And I don’t think the general caution to meeting your heroes applies to fictional characters.   Although …   my biggest fear would probably be that I find them awfully boring.   It’s the story that usually compels me in a book,   not the person whose perspective I’m adopting.             ”

❛⠀⠀is that a no? ⠀ ❜ ⠀ eyelashes flutter, her voice a teasing, lilting thing. a perfect match for the mock-innocence that dances in her features: the crooked curve of her smile, the cornflower blue eyes whose sparkle challenges the brightness of the stars outside the ship, all sweetness and mischief. it was his own fault, really. if he didn't make it so easy for her to tease him, she'd have given up long ago, but no matter how many buttons she pushes, he shows up at her door all the same. disgruntled, yes. but still willing to play her game. ⠀ ❛⠀⠀' i know, i know: never meet your heroes, but she is just... everything. ⠀ ❜

[bohemain]

▉ ――   She has a way of being absolutely ridiculous,   and the look he throws over his shoulder in her direction shows,   though that’s about it when it comes to answering her remark.   Watson has more than once teased him for the disinterest in remembering anything that seems to hold no value to his profession,   but the recipe for the soup has saved his patience more than once ––   and as soon as he’s gotten his hands on the eggs,   it’s just a quick throwing and tossing of ingredients for about ten,  fifteen minutes until the soup’s ready to be eaten.   Really not that big of a deal.          “           Well,  I do ––   if I want to be able to eat your pastries tomorrow.           ”            It’s not as much intentionally selfish as it is factually true ;   pastries covered in snot really don’t sound particularly appetizing.   The soup bubbles away when Sherlock uses the leftover hot water in the kettle to make Ellie a cup of tea and hands it over with little more than an assertive          “           Drink.           ”           And he’s back to prepping the soup.           “           Are you fine otherwise?           ”

☾ ─── ⋆ staring out into the hallway for a couple of seconds , ellie can't help the slight sense of pride , and the blush , that rushes over her. the sherlock holmes praising her baking ability ? she'll probably never get used to something like that. closing her front door , ellie turns on her heel and follows the consulting detective back into her apartment. it was smaller than the rooms up stairs , but it was just enough for her. a heavy cough leaves her throat , it was gross and flemmy. she hated him seeing her like this - this is why she was hiding away from everyone. besides the feeling sorry for herself and binge watching the real housewives. though john had stopped by earlier that morning to give her the meds that she needed. she watches as he goes through her cupboards , not the first time and won't be the last. nose scrunches slightly at the idea of soup this early in the morning , but she hadn't eaten anything in two days. she nods towards the fridge anyway. ❛ yeah in the fridge. ❜ she coughs again as she moves to sit down at the kitchen counter. letting her head fall against her folded arms. no use in fighting with him. ❛ you don't have to cook me breakfast , sherlock. ❜ ellie mumbled.

[bohemain]

▉ ――   Mrs. Hudson would not have let anyone interrupt the fingernail-gnawing and briskly-pacing rumination that Sherlock found himself in if it wasn’t for very good reason ––   just that the very good reason occasionally was replaced by inappropriate compassion for someone needing his assistance,   or claiming to,   but not actually having a case worth dwelling on.   He was half-way to opening his mouth and shouting for her to escort the visitor back out again when,   upon turning,   he saw exactly who stood in front of him.   Sherlock’s mouth fell shut again.   @consultingsister would have written him that she was coming.   He was certain that she would have written him that she was coming.   And yet …  

“             It’s you.             ”           Quite monotonously put.   Occasionally,  he had Watson read her e-mails to him out loud,   of course after having read them first and made sure nothing too personal was detailed in them,   just to idle on his armchair and close his eyes.   He notoriously hated calling people,   it made it terribly difficult to parse through someone’s emotions and react accordingly,   particularly with no face to further aid in deducing the right tone.   Writing was different.   He found comfort in writing to her,   almost more even than in bothering Watson with his endlessly long monologues.

But now she was standing there.   And he hadn’t expected her visit at all.   It wasn't impossible to see that he wasn't yet certain how to react to the surprise.          “          Your hair looks different.           ”

[bohemain]

▉ ――   GET TO KNOW ME BETTER!

▉ Alias / Name.   Lyn but the og besties will also know my name is Aylin xoxo

▉ Birthday.   August 9th  ( I'm turning 28 this summer, incredible )

▉ Zodiac sign.   A nasty Leo

▉ Height.   We don't talk about it  ( I think it's 5'3 )

▉ Hobbies.   Cooking,  studying philosophy rn,  DnD

▉ Favourite colour.   All shades of green

▉ Current book.   I'm a parallel reader aka I read multiple books because my brain is unhinged,   currently A Study in Scarlet and Wheel of Time,   and I just finished Children of Dune!

▉ Last film / show.   We're currently watching trash animes,  don't ask

▉ Inspiration.   April is Autism Awareness month xoxo,   tbh I've just been emotionally remembering my English lit teacher from high school who once gave me The Hound of the Baskervilles to read and that led me down a rabbit hole to this inofficially very autistic consulting detective and wanting to bring him to life as some sort of comfort muse while I cope with the possibility of my dad and I simply being autistic and having been unaware of it lmao

▉ Story behind the URL.   Bohemian was taken but he's simply a boheme supreme.   Simply a drug addict chilling on his chair in a cluttered apartment while brooding over crime.

▉ Fun fact about me.   I enjoy eating Nattō and I enjoy watching my fiancé leave the kitchen in absolute terror whenever I do even more

Tagged by. star of my soul @noblehigh, Tagging. @consultingsister, @wtsns, @ncmad, @strnza, @spxnglr!

[bohemain]

He's so dramatic I love him

[bohemain]

▉ ――   The newspaper was barely holding together,   the way he held it to scrutinize the last detail of a recently solved murder   (  presumably solved anyhow ––   although by the knitting of his brows,   it really looked like he begged to differ  ).

@theresastargirl asked …   “            How do you take your cuppa?             ”

With his eyes irremediably immersed into the sensational news,   Sherlock didn’t even look up before he answered,             “            Without milk.            ”            Suspect confesses to murder of four women ––   pshaw!   Any confession was entirely meaningless when it didn’t confirm the actual evidence.   Impatiently and brooding,  hands pushed the newspaper away.           “           What would it take for you to confess to a murder you haven’t committed?   Violence?   Mere threats of violence?   Threatening your loved ones?           ”

[bohemain]

"As the weeks went by, my interest in him and my curiosity as to his aims in life, gradually deepened and increased. His very person and appearance were such as to strike the attention of the most casual observer. In height he was rather over six feet, and so excessively lean that he seemed to be considerably taller. His eyes were sharp and piercing, save during those intervals of torpor to which I have alluded; and his thin, hawk-like nose gave his whole expression an air of alertness and decision. His chin, too, had the prominence and squareness which mark the man of determination. His hands were invariably blotted with ink and stained with chemicals, yet he was possessed of extraordinary delicacy of touch, as I frequently had occasion to observe when I watched him manipulate his fragile philosophical instruments."

john being infatuated with the weird chemistry n crime nerd within days of meeting him is so funny coded

[bohemain]

▉ ――   “             The criterion by which you measure the similarities between your pastries and Mrs. Hudson’s doesn’t follow,             ”             and he’s brisk to enter the apartment downstairs once given the invitation to.   She does look awful ––   in a non-judgmental albeit perhaps seemingly judgmental way,   eyes keep their attention on her while big strides take him into the kitchen.   The question is taken very literally as Sherlock rummages for the best possible tea bag and fills the kettle with fresh water,          “           Wasn't a problem,  actually ––   but breakfast was more expensive and slightly less delightful.   And I enjoy keeping things as they are,   routine makes life so much simpler.            ”          The smile he shoots over his shoulder back at Ellie is just a little too wide ;   that he goes through her cupboard with a near-insolent taken-for-grantedness until he’s picked out a mug,   he seems little concerned with.              “            Do you have eggs?   I used to make a soup for my sister whenever she was sick.   It works wonders ––   but I do need some eggs.            ”

☾ ─── ⋆ mrs. hudson had told ellie to take the day. that she would be able to handle things up stairs for however long ellie needed to get better. and who was ellie to argue with mrs. hudson. the woman had been running baker street long before the australian had even shown up on their door step. but by the sounds of the incessant knocking on her front door - mrs hudson may not have had everything under control. ellie didn't think that not being up stairs for the first time in however long she's been there would have been something sherlock would have noticed. but of course it was something he had noticed. with a mild groan and a sniff , ellie bundles herself up in her cardigan and shuffles to the door. she hasn't even looked at herself in the mirror all morning. pulling it open , she's certainly not surprised to see sherlock standing in the door way , her head droops and a sigh leaves her. yes she looked awful , don't remind her. brows furrowed. ❛ hey , mrs hudson's pastries are just as good. ❜ she mumbled , not even bothering to argue that he should stay on that side of her door , lord knows she doesn't need him getting sick - but she just steps aside , allowing him inside. ❛ how'd you ever survive before me ? ❜

[bohemain]

the power went out & now the fire alarm is blaring bc of it :/

[bohemain]

@nursc asked …   “            Do you have Nancy’s number?            ”

▉ ――   Now,  that’s just rude.   The hologram flickers to a disgruntled standstill,   head once eagerly leaning over to sneak a peek into whatever medical mystery she’s been studying,   now lifts back into a stiff position.           “            Am I a joke to you,  Christine?             ”             Apparently.   Sherlock eyes her with a squinted glare ––   spaceships,  non-human but humanoid intelligent species,  the non-corporal form he finds himself in …   he forgives that.   The constant comparison to a fictional amateur detective,   he does not.              “            You’re an awful bully.             ”

[bohemain]

LOUIS GARREL in L'OMBRA DI CARAVAGGIO (2022), dir. Michele Placido

[bohemain]

▉ ――   She has the characteristics of a dust particle,   rummaging about in his very particular disorder and unable to leave a singular item of his possessions untouched.   It tends to not bother him for as long as she avoids interrupting his brooding,   hands pensively folded and eyes closed as he sits in his armchair ––   though peeking open when the subtle change in light indicates that her silhouette hovers above him.   Unsurprisingly.

@strnza …   fixes his pretty, wavy curly hair. (with love.) 🤍

Sherlock glares,   at least it looks like it.           “            You should consider cutting down on sugar.             ”           That she talks incessantly is a background hum he’s gotten accustomed to ––   even enjoys,   albeit he’d never admit it.   The messing with his hair?   Not so much.   He leaves it as is anyhow :   maybe it’s not as bad as the glare insinuates.           “          I’m getting a feeling that I can’t postpone having to ask you if you want to go out.            ”            A beat,   her bubbly overflowing warmth met with aloof callousness.   But he unmistakably cherishes her company,   even if it seldom shows,           “            If we go now,   we might still get to see the street musicians before they call it a day.           ”

[bohemain]

SHERLOCK 3x03 "His Last Vow"

[bohemain]

▉ ―― The knock had been persistent,   eyes prying down to the watch around his wrist in growing disgruntlement with every second that passed without her answering the door ––   only to be replaced by the upward movement of his brows when @ncmad opened …   in only her nightgown.   Sherlock knitted his expression into a frown.           “           You seem to run a fever,            ”            deducing from the faint shade of pink around her nose,   the slightly damp forehead,   and the quickened breath ––   albeit the latter might just as well be associated with the not exactly missable depiction of annoyance on her face.   Maybe because of the persistent knocking?           “           Mrs. Hudson informed me that I was indeed not mistaken that the pastries she left for Watson and me were not from you,           ”            and subsequently absolutely not up to his standards,           “           I was concerned,   you’re never late.   And your pastries are significantly better than whatever Mrs. Hudson whipped up to replace them with …   Should I come in and make you tea?           ”

[bohemain]

the single most iconic coincidence is katie and me returning at the same time