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|| semi-hiatus ~

hey guys–I'm really sorry, but I'm going to have to put sherly on hiatus until I can find my muse for him (I have a feeling that once I have the time to rewatch the show, he'll come back, but he's just not here right now).

in the meantime, you can follow me on my will graham rp blog and I'll be back soon, promise :)

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[ oops did i make a will graham what ]

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[[ hey guys– I'm here, but not on my computer, so I'm doing the replies that don't have gifs/icons and I'll reply to the rest of you as soon as I can (and if I don't reply to you today and you aren't tagged, please poke me because it means I accidentally forgot you :) ) ]]

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Sherlock continued staring at John, who had turned from the console to meet Sherlock's eyes with a worried look. Slowly, the detective reached out and grasped one of the poles on the side of the room (if it could even be considered a room) and pulled himself to his feet. He flipped up his coat collar with both hands and started toward the console, passing John as he reached out and touched one of the knobs with his fingertips.  "TARDIS," Sherlock mumbled under his breath. The console whirred and buzzed underneath his touch.  "This is–" John was shaking his head, looking around the console room with a look on his face that reminded Sherlock of the time he'd deduced John's phone in the taxi. "This is brilliant, absolutely brilliant."

+themanwhomakespeoplebetter

"The TARDIS," he repeated slowly. "T-A-R-D-I-S: Time And Relative Dimension In Space. Type 40 TARDIS to be specific, though it’s not like you’d find a lot of others these days." Perhaps the more facts the Doctor fed Sherlock about his ship the better he’d be able to accept her reality. There was a science to it- albeit one that wasn’t exactly studied or even widely known on Earth during this time- and a logic- however seemingly strange at first.

"That’s the console over there," the Doctor said, nodding towards the center of the room they were standing in, though not moving too far from Sherlock lest it become too much again. "Basically the controls to the ship. Meant to be flown by six but I manage on m’own for the most part. Slightly different controls to your usual car or boat or plane, but then that’s not what she is."

Glancing behind him to make sure John was alright, the Doctor rubbed at the back of his own neck, trying to figure out what else he could do or say. “That- that’s the basics, really. Space/time ship that’s bigger on the inside. Well, a lot bigger plus a library and a library with a pool. Among other things.”

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[ oops did i make a will graham what ]

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                           ".... Bored."

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First and foremost, I can’t believe there are so many of you here. When I joined, and hit 100 after a couple of months, I thought that would be it. After all, a hundred followers is a lot. And now, I’m sitting here with an almost unbelievable 538 of you here. 

I know I’m not the best Molly here, but I know that I’ve found some characters on here that I will always, always love to pieces. Thank you all for giving up your time to build a relationship between our muses, and in some cases, muns, too.

So - DISCLAIMER - if you are not on here, it doesn’t mean I think any less of you. You are all brilliant. I’m sorry if you aren’t on here, and if I’ve just missed you off, despite an obvious relationship, don’t think that I don’t appreciate you. Also, I’m useless with remembering urls if they’ve changed recently. That’s another reason I may have missed you.

A — D

akingamongcriminals

amanbaaddington

avillains-fairytale

blogofmissjoanwatson

brokendeductions

caringwasmyfall

curiousandcheekylittlebrat

dciglestrade

deductionismydivision

donotappalme

E — H

fatherholmes

fortiusfideli

governmentofficial

happynewyearlestrade

I — L

idopost-mortems

inmiliteforti

inspectorsoftheyard

jawnlovesjumpers

justdilestrade

lestradeismore

lucinda-holmes

M — P

minnie-hooper

mmarymorstann

motherholmes

notthepsychopath

Q — T

sherlockat221bposts

silentlestrade

still-the-addict

the-whip-hands-blog

theblogofmsjanemoriarty

theianmalcolm

thesoldierdoctor

tonystarknotatyourservice

twotwoonebrp

U — Z

violinforthought

whitecoatedcriminal

xxtheconsultingdetective

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"Oh, please," Sherlock mumbled, taking out his phone and bringing up the most recent news stories, reading through them as he continued talking. "The crying was unbelievably false, your story was constructed quickly and without precision, it was child's play."

Subtlety isn't a Strong Point || @deductionismydivision

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Sherlock expected the man to be surprised, perhaps accuse him of being a serial killer (people had a tendency to assume that, considering the state of his kitchen and his uncanny observation skills). In fact, Sherlock was prepared for Dean to react in a multitude of ways, but none of them involved being splashed with drinking water. He knit his eyebrows, his brain searching for a possible explanation (or perhaps a witty comeback?), but he cake up empty-handed, and so he elected to say nothing. 

Clearing his throat, Dean nodded. “— Yeah, alright. I’m Dean. Dean Winchester.” with that, he walked in the kitchen, viridescent eyes glancing at cluttered table, mostly consisting of beakers and half empty bottles of chemicals. Making his way the fridge, the hunter opened it, confusion flooding his features as he picked up [yeah, you guessed it—] human thumbs. “Oh my god, is this guy friggin’ Dexter?" he muttered under his breath, slamming the door closed. "Hey— —" walking towards Sherlock he opened a cantine of holy water, throwing the liquid at the other’s face. That’s only first move; he’s got the demon knife out and ready. 

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Sherlock slipped his hands into his coat pockets, at a loss for words once more. Why had he agreed to do this? Granted, he wanted to spend time with Molly, but what were they supposed to talk about? How had he managed to hold the conversation until this point?

"Nice?" Molly raised an eyebrow, uncertain on how to proceed there. "Mmhm. Suits me just fine, anyway. Bit of a trek to get to work, but it could be a lot worse, couldn’t it?" Her half smile was dropped as she searched her bag for her keys, eventually pulling out the metal.

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|| guess who's BACK ||

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"It's nice." Sherlock thought back to the mess his and John's flat and was grateful that Molly had offered her flat instead. A part of him didn't want Molly to ever see their kitchen.

They walked quite quickly, considering it was cold and dark, and Molly didn’t particularly want to be out there for any extra length of time. This was London, after all. She may not live in a dodgy area, but still. Not exactly pleasant. So, within not all that long, Molly was turning into the block of apartments she lived in. “Here we are.” 

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[ text ] You will always have more tricks, and you will always lose. -SH

[text] Such a pessimist, aren’t we? It suits you though, the brooding look. Fits your whole tall, dark, mysterious aura. But really, do you think I’d let it go on long enough for that to happen? I’ve got more tricks than you’ve ever seen, and I will use them all. -JM

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"Please. Collections of dust and oxygen circling around a big ball of light. Hardly meaningful." He raised his cup to take a sip, wincing as he did. Mrs. Hudson made his tea differently (although Sherlock would never admit that he'd always missed his sister's tea). "Anyway, yes librarian, how is that going?" Small talk. John had said something to him about that before. 

"Excuse me, but you are talking to a librarian mister, watch yourself." She playfully scolded him. "They were my best friends growing up around you and Mycroft." Emaline added, taking a sip of her tea. "And the solar system can be helpful in times, as insane as it may seem." 

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Sherlock almost opened his eyes, but he forced them to stay sealed. He'd never given much thought to aliens; he'd never given much thought to space in general, really (it was something John poked at constantly). He focused on Earth, on London, everything else was excess. Useless information that clogged up the hard drive. 

He did know that space was endless, that there were uncountable amounts of planets and "solar systems" outside of the tiny little planet they occupied. Logically, it made sense that there would be some other form of life somewhere in the entirety of the universe.

But Sherlock couldn't quite stand the fact that what this strange man was telling him–about this technology, about everything, made just the slightest bit of logical sense. 

After a few silent moments of thought, Sherlock decided to open his eyes. Slowly, his vision came into focus, and he focused on John, who was staring at the strange console in the middle of the–thing. John was real, Sherlock was sure of that. If John was real, was it possible that everything else was, too?

He cleared his throat. "W.. what did you say this was called?"

+themanwhomakespeoplebetter

"Yep, I did," he nodded, looking over at John. "No way you lot have got the technology to develop something like this yet. Well, not on a scale like this anyways. The TARDIS- that’s what she’s called- is more or less infinite in size. Haven’t exactly gotten around to checking just how true that is yet but as far as I can tell she is.”

The Doctor glanced back at Sherlock, a slight look of worry on his face. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea- showing an overly logical man a seemingly illogical and impossible ship that could travel through space/time. He paused, realizing the point that John was probably trying to get at just a tad late.

"And yes, that does mean I’m alien as well."

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