#sherlock tattoos

[petite-madame]

The Science of Seduction - (2023)

“Am I going to keep the tattoos ? Of course not, don't be silly John, it's for a case. A "three", unfortunately. I'll be back in two hours top, don't wait for me for dinner. John, are you alright ? You look sick. I'm concerned. John ? John...? Why are you looking at me like this ?”

[gjdraws]

these are all the same man

[the-moon-loves-the-sea]

I got a tattoo! First color piece!

Gay flowers, and tiny bees with sweet little feet.

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024,#20 do-over

Apparently there will be another AU happening. No beds but tats.

A Tattoo Shop AU.

I've no idea where this will go so I'll surprise us all. LOL

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White Pony Tattoo - Part One (do-over)

Dr John Watson stood in front of 221 Baker Street and – for the first time in a very long time – felt anxious.

He was wondering why this actually happened to him right now. The London afternoon was mild and sunny, summer was about to begin and yet, an aura of foreboding seemed to hover around the well-kept Victorian building.

John shook himself mentally. This was completely ridiculous. There was nothing to be afraid of. There was no danger.

For God’s sake, he had fought for Queen and Country in Afghanistan, had saved several lives and countless limbs in the field hospital and also on the battlefield under heavy fire. He had not felt anxious then. Wary, yes. Cautious, of course. High on adrenaline, surely.

He had been shot in the shoulder while he was on a scouting mission with his team and had woken up in his own field hospital. When his fellow army doctor had disclosed to John in blunt medical terms that he might lose his arm, then John had been frightened.

After a long rehab process the arm was functioning again but John had been honourably discharged because of an intermittant tremor in his hand that made him unsuitable to work as a field surgeon.

Two years ago, John had returned to London and after struggling for three months he had found work as a physician in a local clinic. He had soon met a wonderful nurse named Mary Morstan, fell in love with her and they had married quickly.

Which brought John back to the reason why he was standing in the middle of the pavement in front of 221 Baker Street, staring at the tattoo shop like a village idiot.

The tattoo on his right upper arm needed a do-over.

“White Pony Tattoo” was not what John had expected. It was located in a small shop with a red awning above its single window. There were no flashing neon signs or colourful and enlarged pictures of tattoo designs the artist had created. No advertising of the shop’s services whatsoever. Everything was clinical and sterile, even off-putting. Had it not been for the single metal sign placed in the middle of the window, no one would have thought a tattoo shop would be behind it.

Maybe it was the sign that made John feel so anxious.

It read “White Pony Tattoo” and showed a stylized white running pony on its right side. On the left the sign read “no arguing, no crying, no boring designs”. This did not bode well. Just by the look of it, John would never have thought about setting a foot in there.

Yet, John had done his fair share of internet research to find the best tattoo shops in London because he really did not want some would-be tattoo artist botch up his skin.

White Pony Tattoo had topped several lists. The only shortcoming that people regularly mentioned was that the artist was capricious. The lesser polite said that he was a total dick. However, Sherlock’s – John assumed it was a pen name -artistry was highly acclaimed and he had won several competitions over the last years. Getting an appointment was difficult and being accepted as a client was even more so. But sometimes, when Sherlock was interested enough, he accepted walk-ins.

John straightened his back, raised his chin, took a deep breath and opened the door of the tattoo shop. A melodious door bell chimed and announced his presence.

IIt was cool and dim inside the shop and it smelled faintly of a fresh lemon fragrance. A thick purple curtain behind the wooden counter closed off the rearmost part of the shop. Quiet classical violin music played in the background.

“Hello?” John called out, taking off his jumper to let his tattoo show. “Is there anybody here?”

The curtain moved and a man stepped up to the counter. It was easy to recognize Sherlock from the few pictures John had seen on the internet.

“Hello, I’m here for a do-over…” John began.

“Shut up.” Sherlock commanded. His baritone voice was silky and opulent just like the luscious black curls that framed his aristocratic and unusual face.

John was so surprised that he closed his mouth with an audible plop.

Sherlock’s eyes roamed over John’s face and upper arms, then the rest of his body. Piercing blue grey eyes took in every detail, precise like an x-ray machine or better, like a computer tomograph. They missed nothing, pinning John to the spot and stripping him down to his very bones, unable to hide anything. It was uncanny. Disconcerting.

“Firstly, it’s called a cover-up, as you should very well know.”

Sherlock chided, frowning. His voice rumbled like the high-end engine of a race car and filled John with an unknown desire.

“Secondly, I’ve already deduced what you want. I won’t do it because it’s boring.”

+++++

The one(s) who know and tell me where the shop's name comes from will get a cameo in this AU (nothing bad, I promise). Are you game?

tagging @peageetibbs @totallysilvergirl @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @raina-at

[beekeeperspicnic]

The Case of the Rose Tattoo

If you fancy a oozing-with-love-for-the-stories Sherlock Holmes point and click adventure and you don't want to wait a year or more for me to complete the Beekeeper's Picnic, might I suggest 30 year old obscure classic The Rose Tattoo?

I spent this evening playing around in this game and I'm in love, I think it's instantly become my favourite Sherlock Holmes game.

I've always thought that if I was writing a proper Sherlock Holmes mystery game, I would find some way for Holmes to be indisposed so that the player could play Watson acting in his stead, at least for part of the game. I feel like playing as Watson is so much more satisfying - he's able to be fallible, and we can join him in wanting to impress Holmes.

This game comes up with the BEST reason for Holmes to be out of action because it also sets the stakes very high - the Diogenes Club has gone up in flames and Mycroft is on death's door. Holmes immediately locks himself up in his bedroom in terrible grief, and it's up to Watson (and the player!) to pull him out of it by beginning to piece together what has actually happened.

The game uses actual actors in front of green screens for all the characters, which looks a little odd sometimes but it does mean they are expressive and grounded.

The voice acting generally seems good, although sometimes I think the quality of the dialogue surpases it. There is lovely a moment where Holmes laments that freak accidents seem awfully unreal until one happens to someone you know. His distress is palpable in his words, but not quite carried through to his voice.

The dialogue and expository text is aboslutely steller, though, so having voice acting to match is a tall order. It often has a very very dry sense of humour, and nails the 1890s parlance.

Also honestly I think I just love the Mycroft whump and Holmes being all 3 Garridebs about it. It's so personal!

The caveat is that this is a game from the era when you were expected to sit down with a notebook, with no objectives or tutorials or prompts. It also seems to rely on you spotting very tiny details and doing a bit of pixel-hunting. I have a feeling that completing it would take a long time, and a lot of brain-power!

You can download it from Archive.org, and I recommend playing it with the ScummVM emulator.

[helloliriels]

Just Like A Tattoo (I'll Always Have You) by helloliriels for @sherlockchallenge June prompt: Tattoo

🥀 Based on song lyrics from: Rose Tattoo by Dropkick Murphys; and ofc Tattoo by Jordan Sparks; couldn't decide, so I went with a bit o' both 🥀

John walks in on Sherlock after the fall, only to discover ... Sherlock wasn't quite as heartless ... or as clueless about love as he had imagined ...

tagging peeps! @johnlocky @ohlooktheresabee @fluffbyday-smutbynight @rhasima @chinike @spooksicl-e @justanobsessedpan @totallysilvergirl @whatnext2020 @topsyturvy-turtely @chriscalledmesweetie @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gaylilsherlock @sarahthecoat @inevitably-johnlocked @kettykika78 @khorazir @kaursblog11 @john-smiths-jawline @mrb488 @jobooksncoffee @carla-creates @wizama @sgam76 @gregorovitchworld @arwamachine @discordantwords @raina-at @simplyclockwork @janetm74 @bertytravelsfar @7-percent @missdeliadili @peanitbear @meetinginsamarra @breath4soul @blogstandbygo @iamjustreading @1-800-get-sherlocked @impalaparkedat221b @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @solarmama @momma2boys

[capfalcon]

SCREAMING elementary is literally the perfect show for platonic relationships i LOVE i LOVE it i am obsessed

[consult-sherlockholmes]

does john have any tattoos? If yes, what are they?

I didn't find any tattoos on him yet, maybe I will have to examine him closer. @consultjohnwatson don't be shy, come here.

[purpletrashcans]

honestly it's probably a good thing i haven't had the courage yet to get a tattoo otherwise i would 100% be covered in stupid fandom tattoos rn no doubt

[anneangel]

I was reading a book where the phrase 'Amicus usque ad aras*' suddenly appeared in the text and I immediately remembered Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

*Latin phrase usually translated into English as "a friend as far as to the altar" or "a life-long partner" or "a friend to the very end".

[whos-you11]

#sherlock

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock wants to get a tattoo. It's for a case. Obviously. John won't have it, but he can't tell his best friend why.

Written for the Sherlock Challenge. June prompt: tattoo

@sherlockchallenge @calaisreno @gaylilsherlock

[queer-mystery-tournament]

For those asking, here are all the characters we have in the tournament thus far:

Benoit Blanc, from Knives Out

Hercule Poirot, from the Agatha Christie novels of the same name

Edwin Paine, from Dead Boy Detectives

Sherlock Holmes, from Ace Attorney

Ema Skye, also from Ace Attorney

Velma Dinkley, from Scooby Doo

Dana Scully, from X-Files

Fox Mulder, also from X-Files *

Kim Kitsuragi, from Disco Elysium

Juno Steel, from the Penumbra Podcast

Jonathan Sims, from The Magnus Archives

Sherlock Holmes, from Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century

L Lawliet, from Death Note *

(a * indicates that the character was added by me.)

I aim to publish the brackets this weekend, so please keep submitting! Ideally I'd like either 24 or 36 characters.

[onceinawhilemoon]

now I'm imagining sherlock using the fact that he's basically an ex-convict for some life XP so he doesn't look so young and inexperienced compared to watson dhshuwa. like imagine watson telling all kinds of stories about his time in the war and all the hardcore shit he's done and then theres sherry going: let me tell you about that one time I went to prison for a few days and then got kicked out of a mediterranean island...

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024, #29 hero

Chapters 1 to 5 here on AO3

If you like the tattoo AU give it some love on my AO3, please. It would mean a lot to me. TYSM!

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White Pony Tattoo - Part Nine (hero)

John turned around to head for the next bus stop, not knowing if he would even be able to get there. Taking a step and moving away from the tattoo shop seemed impossible. The weight of the world was crushing down on his shoulders and the outlook of not seeing Sherlock for at least a week cut deep into his chest and right into his heart.

The connection I’ve felt, being with Sherlock. Now that it’s gone, I almost feel sick.

John rubbed his eyes and sighed heavily.

Dear God, I think I’ve fallen for him. Fuck. Not just his looks, which are top notch of course, no, it’s the whole package of his personality. Even if he is a real dick at times. I can’t help it.

And yet, I’m wondering.

Did he feel it, too? He practically glowed down there in the lab, speaking to me, showing off his equipment. My appreciation of what he has achieved made him incandescent.

But does he like me back? As a person, as John Watson, the whole package I come with? Or was he just happy to have an audience that applauded his every move? To be forgotten as soon as I’m gone and out of his sight?

The gloomy thoughts clogged John’s brain and rendered him unable to walk away, condemning him to oscillate on the pavement in front of the shop.

“Oh, hello dear. You must be John?”

John was so preoccupied by his musings that he jumped badly when a woman’s voice suddenly adressed him.

“Erm, yes?”

Looking into the direction the voice had come from, John registered a frail but distinguished looking old lady. She had just sat down two heavy looking bags with groceries and held a bunch of keys in her hand. A large golden number dangled from the main key ring.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. But you looked so forlorn and sad. Sherlock has not rejected you again, or has he?”

“Ah, no, he’ll tattoo me,” John quickly connected the puzzle pieces, “and you must be Sherlock’s landlady.”

“Tch, I forgot to introduce myself properly.” She chuckled and offered her hand. “I’m Martha Hudson. Most of the time I’m more like Sherlock’s housekeeper since he cannot be arsed to do the simplest household chores himself.”

Shaking her hand firmly, John laughed. “That sounds very much like him. Always thinking about ink, is he?”

“Yes, yes. He calls it the INK, written all in capital letters. It’s his greatest passion, he cares for little else.” She unlocked the front door.

This offhand comment struck a chord in John, one whose sound he did not really want to hear again. Doubt. Doubt if Sherlock really cared about him apart from putting INK on his skin. He shook himself mentally, trying to get rid of the anxiety that crept upon him like a feral beast.

“Pleased to meet you. Let me just praise the scones you’ve made. They’ve been the best I ever had.”

Mrs Hudson made a delighted sound. “What a charmer you are!”

“Just telling the truth.” John pointed to the grocery bags. “Can I help you with these?”

“Oh, please, if you don’t mind, dear. When the weather is like this, my bad hip is always acting up.”

John carried the bags into 221A, Mrs Hudson’s flat on the ground floor. He put them onto her kitchen table and was about to leave when she invited him on a cup of tea as a thank you for his help. Like every proper Englishman, John could not refuse.

“Did you know that Sherlock explicitly requested tea and scones for you today?” Mrs Hudson said when she handed John the cup with steaming hot tea, watching his face quizzically.

“No?” The undeniable sly look on her otherwise so friendly and open face caught John a bit on the wrong foot. “I thought it was the usual hospitality he shows to his clients.”

Mrs Hudson outright laughed.

“My dear, he never cares about hospitality. The clients come to him anyway, no matter how rude he behaves. Can you imagine my surprise when he asked me to provide tea and scones for your appointment today?”

She refilled John’s tea cup. “He said I need tea and the best scones you can bake when John comes back. Sherlock even added a please in an afterthought.”

“He was sure I’d come back and acept his offer. He just knew.” John shrugged. “He knew me better than I know myself.”

“Not the point, dear. Sherlock wanted to have tea and scones for you. He wanted to impress you and be nice. You must mean something to him if he goes to such lenghts, don’t you think?” Mrs Hudson winked and grinned.

John wondered if she had adopted this mannerism from Sherlock or if it had been the other way around.

“I don’t know. I’d like to think so.” John decided to be honest with Mrs Hudson. Somehow, he was convinced he could trust her. He added wistfully. “I really wish I would be more to him than just the next canvas to put his INK onto.”

“He’s had a hard time in the past,” Mrs Hudson said, “he doesn’t let people get close to him easily or quickly lowers the protective shield he’s put around his heart.”

“Really?” John wondered. “He seemed pretty open and relaxed when he showed me all the stuff in his ink laboratory in the basement.”

“He what?” Mrs Hudson cried out and jumped up. The hip was not bothering her now, apparently.

“John! He never lets people in there. It’s his sanctum sanctorum. It took four months and constant nagging on my behalf until he let me take a look and I own this house. If he shows it to you just like this, you have to be very special to him already!”

Blissful warmth spread through John’s body. His nerves tingled and his blood sang a dulcet melody full of hope. Could it be that…

John beamed. “Thank you so much for telling me, Mrs Hudson. That he cares about me.”

Suddenly, Mrs Hudson’s posture changed.

She fixated John with ice cold eyes, pinning him on the chair. Steel had replaced every trace of her earlier softness and age-related frailty. She stepped up to John.

“Just to give a you heads-up, you’re not the only person who cares about Sherlock.” Her voice was sharp, quiet and deadly serious. “Or protects him.”

It sent chills running down John’s spine.

Mrs Hudson briefly squeezed John’s shoulder. “If you hurt him, I’ll lace your tea with rat poison. I know a nice lad who is a building contractor and he’ll bury your body somewhere in a concrete slab.”

Theatrical as it might appear, John believed her every word.

And just like this, the fearsome avenging angel that had occupied Mrs Hudson’s body disappeared, leaving the nice old landlady behind.

“Do you want another cup of tea, my dear?” She asked sweetly.

In this moment John decided that Martha Hudson was a true heroine.

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tagging some people @totallysilvergirl @peageetibbs  @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @calaisreno

[beekeeperspicnic]

Ok I love this game to bits but AHAHAH WHAT?!