#sherlock holmes fandom

[under-loch-n-key]

"It may be that you are not yourself luminous, but that you are a conductor of light. Some people without possessing genius have a remarkable power of stimulating it."

Happy Johnlock Day!!!

I know Valentine's isn't here yet, but I wanted to make a drawing for it anyway. So, Happy (very early) Valentine's Day!

I finished my Granada Holmes/Johnlock Valentine's Day drawing!! I hope you enjoy!! 💛💛

Holmes got his beloved poisonous flowers and Watson received some sweets. I love them.

The cafe is a cafe I use in my comics. It's called "Witches Cap - Cafe and Roast". Like I said in my last post, I always enjoy putting characters in it. [:

(Sorry for the wonky lines.)

(Edit: everyone is saying such sweet things, thank you lot so much!! 💛😭)

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hi Cheleah😌❤️

drunk sex with Sherlock(Henry) pls👀👀

hi baby! another request done, hehe. I hope you like it even with how short it is.

summary - your husband fucks you after a few drinks.

warning - smut, intoxication, swearing, creampie.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You moan, feeling his slow but rough movements against you. Sherlock moves inside of you, whispering slurred drunken words into your ear. “So fucking tight and warm, my best darling.” He groans, gripping your hips roughly, thrusting harder and deeper. Your mind is fuzzy from the intense pleasure mixed with the alcohol. The feeling of his thick member sliding in and out of you feels excellent. Everything felt so electrifying, so raw and passionate. Your husband looks deep into your eyes, smirking as he notices your glazed-over look matches his. “My precious little darling, letting me have you even while intoxicated.” The scent of whiskey on his breath causes your eyes to roll to the back of your head and your walls to clench around his throbbing member. 

Sherlock cups your cheek, instructing you to wrap your legs around him as he picks up the pace, slamming into your sweet spot deep inside. You cling to him, not daring to let go of the man you love, the man currently splitting you open over and over again. You feel shivers roll through your body, a bliss washing over you as your back arches and your juices flow out of you. Sherlock snaps, becoming feral in his drunken state, pinning you down into the mattress and pounding you into it. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream. 

He buries his face into your neck, grunting when his balls tighten and his cock throbs wildly, thrusting as deep as he can before he lets go. Thick spurts of cum fill you to the brim, leaking from your full cunt. You whimper, trembling underneath him as his cum continues to shoot out of his mushroom tip. “Good girl, such a good girl.” 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[dreamofademondetective]

Watson: “D’you wanna come for a walk?”

Sherlock: “…A walk.”

Watson: “Yeah. ‘Round Regent’s Park with me and Archie.”

Sherlock: “Can I wear sunglasses and ear defenders?”

Watson: “You can wear whatever you want, mate.”

Sherlock: “Fine.”

[missivesfromtroy]

I don't want to alarm anyone, but I went to read some Katie Forsythe this evening and it looks like The Seventeenth Step/liquidfic (the only place I know of where her ACD fics are hosted) is about to be deleted?! 😬

Are we about to lose the text of these first rate fics? 😬😬😬

EDIT: lilywolfgray let me know in replies that the Internet Archive has them archived at https://web.archive.org/web/20190330072049/http://www.liquidfic.org/katie.html

I've copied them all for my own use, but I think the question now remains, does anybody know how to reach KF and let her know?

[lokidokieokie]

Under the Lamppost

Summary: You and Sherlock have been secretly harbouring feelings for each other, but it takes a moment of vulnerability for you both to finally reveal the truth

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): smidge of angst, love confessions, fluffy fluff

You had always been someone who was observant, even as a child. You would notice things that others wouldn't, pick up on details that would slip by most people's attention. It was a skill that had served you well in your adult life, especially in your current job as a consulting detective.

But unlike Sherlock, you didn't make a show of your abilities. You kept them hidden, only using them when necessary. You didn't want to draw attention to yourself, especially not from the likes of Sherlock Holmes.

You had been working with him for a few months now, and it was clear that he was intrigued by you. He would occasionally make comments about your abilities, but you always brushed them off, feigning ignorance.

One day, Sherlock was in a particularly foul mood. You could tell he was upset about something, but you didn't know what. You had been working on a case together, but Sherlock had abruptly left the crime scene, leaving you to finish up on your own.

You found him back at 221B, sulking in his chair. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should say anything. But something inside you compelled you to speak up.

"Something's bothering you," you said, your voice soft.

Sherlock looked up at you, surprised. "What makes you say that?"

"You're not your usual self," you said, taking a step closer to him. "You're distracted, agitated. And you're avoiding the case we were working on. It's unlike you."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might lash out at you. But instead, he seemed to deflate.

"It's nothing," he muttered, looking away.

"It's not nothing," you said firmly. "You're conflicted about something. Something to do with me, I think."

Sherlock's head snapped back to look at you, his eyes wide. "What are you talking about?"

"You've been...different, around me," you said, hesitating slightly. "More...attentive. And not in the way you usually are. It's like you're...conflicted about something."

Sherlock stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. You felt exposed, vulnerable, like you had revealed too much. You turned to leave, but before you could make it to the door, Sherlock's hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

"Wait," he said, his voice low. "You're right. I am...conflicted. About you. About us."

You turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "What do you mean?"

Sherlock took a step closer to you, his gaze intense. "I mean...I think I have feelings for you. Romantic feelings."

Your breath caught in your throat. You had suspected as much, but to hear him say it out loud...it was almost too much to handle.

"I feel the same way," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise. "You do?"

You nodded, feeling emboldened by his confession. "I've been hiding my abilities from you, but I've been observing you just as much as you've been observing me. And...I've noticed how you've been looking at me. How you've been treating me differently."

Sherlock's expression softened, and for a moment, it felt like everything was going to be alright. But then, something shifted in his eyes, and you knew something was wrong.

"I can't do this," he said, his voice rough. "I can't have feelings for you. It's too complicated. It's not...it's not safe."

You felt your heart sink at Sherlock's words. You had been so sure that he felt the same way as you did. You took a step back, feeling embarrassed and exposed.

"What do you mean it's not safe?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sherlock sighed heavily and looked down at his feet. "I can't get involved with someone I work with. It's not...it's not professional. And there's always the risk of danger. I can't put you in danger."

You felt a lump form in your throat. You knew that Sherlock had a point, but it still hurt to hear him say it. You had allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, you could have something with him.

"I understand," you said, your voice shaking slightly. "I'll...I'll go. I don't want to make things awkward."

You turned and exited 221B. The lump in your throat growing with every step you took away from him. Opening the door, you turned behind you to look at the entryway one last time.

Swiping the tear off your cheek, you exited into the rain. You made it as far as the lamppost before Sherlock grabbed your hand. He spun you around and pulled you into his arms, pressing his lips to yours in a fierce, desperate kiss.

The rain was coming down harder now, soaking through your clothes and plastering your hair to your face. But you didn't care. All you could feel was Sherlock's lips on yours, his arms around you, his body pressed up against yours.

When he finally pulled away, you were both gasping for breath. He looked at you, his eyes intense.

"I can't promise that it will be easy," he said. "But I can promise that I want to try. If you're willing."

You felt a smile spread across your face, despite the rain and the uncertainty. "I'm willing. I'm more than willing. "

Sherlock leaned down and kissed you again, this time more gently. You melted into his embrace, feeling the rain washing away all the doubts and fears that had been holding you back. You knew that it wouldn't be easy, but you also knew that you were willing to fight for this, for Sherlock, for yourself. And in that moment, that was all that mattered.

A/N I miss Sherlock 😔

🏷 @thewaithfuckingannoyme @evelyn-kingsley @moonlight-ee  @otterlycanadian 

[fancypersonvoid]

I 100% agree!!!

I wish men still dressed like this

[moo9395]

Guys guys guys

Sherlock / Watson isn’t real okay.

He’s aroace and Watson marries a woman.

Please produce some non romance related fics.

Romance is not the only kind of love.

Please.

[duch-mirach]

Clyde 🐢

[the-forgotten-lily]

Y'all...

So a few months ago I decide to watch bbc Sherlock and being a devoted childhood fan of Sherlock since childhood I immediately become infatuated with the series.

Also.... Mycroft Holmes is a fucking all seeing genius and that mf knows it.

But....BUT

Hear me out y'all....

After seeing and completing the series I swear strange things have just been happening in my life which can only be described by the word "co-incidences".

Also, now wherever I am looking, my eyes are only somehow finding the infamous Sherlock Holmes novels and a picture of fucking MYCROFT HOLMES. I went to watch the new Mission Impossible movie for a change and who do y'all think I found in that one government scene? MYCROFT EFFING HOLMES! Again!!

I mean ...I admit that I might have cracked some jokes regarding Mycroft and his cake obsession but I swear I didn't mean any harm!

I swear people Mycroft is either haunting me or hunting me or BOTH 😭😭😭😭❤️💕

[holmesunenthusiast]

Concept: Sherhawk Holmes and John H Barkson.

[under-loch-n-key]

Making this comic into a separate post (I posted this comic originally as a reblog) so that way it may reach others more easily. Thank you @aleespace for giving me inspo for this messy little comic. I really enjoyed sketching it. [:

[imyourbratzdoll]

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

 ♡ 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇 ➳ 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕 ❥ 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 ❦ 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌

೫˚🖤❀ *ૢ🥀೫˚🌑

𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐬𝐤 ❥

summary - your husband fucks you after a few drinks.

೫˚🖤❀ *ૢ🥀೫˚🌑

[dreamofademondetective]

Animatic idea: John and Sherlock running around the streets of London together; a compilation of them solving various minor cases, buying groceries, walking Archie, hiding in alleyways, going undercover in cafes and clubs and cooperate meetings; bickering and laughing and sitting quietly on a bench in St. Regent’s Park and holding hands when they need a little comfort from each other. All set to ‘Silver Sun Bohemian’ by Racing Birds, a song which can be heard playing in the background of one of the episodes.

[zealouscanonindeer]

Chance Encounter

As I entered the small Strand restaurant where I had asked Watson to meet me, I saw at once that it was unusually crowded for that time of day. As I searched in vain for a table with two empty chairs together, I noticed a young woman sitting by herself at a table for two, reading a recent issue of the Strand. Her molasses-brown hair was up in a loose coif, though a few locks had come free. Her apparel was fashionable, but not extravagant, and her boots were of a style not frequently seen in London.

I stayed where I was, intending to wait until she had left before claiming the table, but presently she glanced up and caught my eye. She indicated that I should approach, though I did not recognise her and she gave no indication of recognising me. Out of curiosity, I walked over to the table.

"I will be leaving shortly," she remarked once I had arrived, "So you needn't worry that you or your friend will be left standing."

"What led you to believe that I was expecting someone?" I asked, my curiosity piqued by her comment.

"If you expected to remain alone," she replied, "you would have simply taken one of the solitary seats in the restaurant. As it was, you hesitated in the doorway and scanned the entire dining area, apparently looking for a table with two or more chairs together. It isn't usually this crowded at this time of day."

"I hadn't noticed you here before," I said as I sat across from her.

"I haven't been here before. You glanced at your pocket-watch as you came in, and you looked annoyed at the crowd. Hence, you were expecting it to be empty enough now for both of you to sit."

Not to be outdone, I observed, "You're very keen, for a left-handed, unmarried, secretary,recently returned from a travel to America who hadn't the foresight to take a cab here on such a windy day."

She arched an eyebrow at me. "How do you know all that?"

"The indentation of a pen is plain upon the second joint of the middle finger of your left hand, though even had I not observed that, one can see that you turn the pages of your magazine with your left hand rather than your right. You also do not wear a wedding band, nor is there the shadow of where one might otherwise be. The skin on both hands is overdry, as might be expected when one handles a lot of paper in their profession.

"Even before you spoke I noticed your boots, which are of a style manufactured chiefly in America, which told me that you had certainly been there when you purchased the boots. I could see you had walked here, as there is road-grime splashed on your boots, and the stiff wind has blown some of your hair free of its pins."

"Hum!" she said when I had finished, and she sat back. A slight smile played at her lips. "Well, even a left-handed, unmarried, secretary - whether or not she has the foresight not to walk in the wind - can easily spot someone who smokes tobacco, favoring the pipe when he is feeling meditative; who is a deep thinker on many puzzling issues and has a very keen eye for the minutest details; who is a lover of classical music and in fact plays the violin himself; who is a bachelor but takes a roommate; who takes a great interest in chemistry; who is a master in the art of theatrical makeup and disguise; who is a pugilist and fencer; who takes little interest in anything which he finds boring or irrelevant or which does not otherwise engage his intellect; and who is quite disinterested in romance or in fact in women as a gender outside of the necessities of his line of work."

She picked up the magazine and continued reading as I sat, slightly stunned. Finally my curiosity overcame my pride, and I said, "That is quite a detailed catalogue. Perhaps you might explain how you came to these conclusions."

"Well, there are two possible answers to that question," she said, "A long answer and a short answer."

"The long answer first, then."

"Certainly," she replied, "The smell of pipe tobacco is dreadfully difficult to get out of one's clothing, particularly if one smokes heavily at a stretch, so it has quite permeated your clothing, defying all efforts to remove it.

"Your powers of observation were quite clear from your own remarks about myself, but as they were quickly deduced it was clear that this process takes very little time at all. Nonetheless, there is a pronounced furrow between your eyebrows which naturally forms when one knits the brow in deep concentration.

"Your choice of musical instrument is evident by the broad callouses on the pads of the fingers on your left hand where they would touch the strings, and the narrower callouses on the fingers of your right hand where they would grasp the bow, and the slight indentation on the underside of your chin where it would rest on the body of the instrument. One who plays the violin could hardly be uninterested in classical music.

"The lack of a wedding band indicates that you are not married, but your clothing is well-worn, indicating that your income has not been substantial enough for you to afford new clothing for some time. The only way a gentleman in such a financial situation might afford reasonable living quarters is by going halves with a roommate.

"Your interest in chemistry is as plain as the chemical-stains and acid- burns on your hands, though I daresay a home laboratory would cause your roommate no little annoyance.

"Your lean frame is not indicative of a sedentary lifestyle. Furthermore, your upper body appears to be well-muscled, as would be necessary in boxing, and your right arm is slightly more developed than the left, which would occur in someone who practiced in fencing or played singlestick.

"Your interest in theater is evident by the slight smell of cold cream, used by professional thespians to clean off their greasepaint. All the same, there is a thin line of greasepaint at your hairline - hardly noticeable, mind you - which might result if you had washed it off your face in poor light.

"Your selective interest in most topics underlies most of these, particularly the fact that you have a keen interest in such diverse topics as chemistry and theater. It would be difficult and frustrating to cultivate such a level of expertise in all topics, so you pick and choose those which are most interesting and useful to you. The fact that this list does not include women was indicated by your bachelorhood, the lack of any indications - such as the use of cologne - that you are courting anyone, and your apparent reluctance to approach this table in the beginning and ask me if the seat you are now occupying is taken."

She thus concluded her explanation, and returned to her magazine. I sat silent for several minutes, digesting her essay on my personal habits, until I could no longer contain my curiosity.

"The long answer covers every detail," I said, "So what could be the short answer?"

She glanced up at me over the edge of her magazine, and silently folded back one half of it to reveal the full-colour title page of "The Adventure of the Speckled Band," which depicted me thrashing away at a rearing adder with my stick

"Occam's Razor," she said quietly, "How quickly you forget your own fame, Mr. Holmes!" With that she got up and left.

I was still laughing when Watson joined me and asked me if I was quite all right.

Head on to my sequel

the adventure of the trading trinkets

To find out more about her.

[fushigikage]

The most satisfying thing about my day was watching Sherlock Holmes and being graced by the beautiful voice of Jeremy Brett speaking in Italian. God bless him and his angelic voice 🙏🏻🙌🏻

[fancypersonvoid]

His city