gloriousmellark:

On the relationship between John and Sherlock [x]

#Martin Freeman ships Johnlock harder than you

I like this take on their relationship. Regardless on whether you interpret it as romantic or not, his points are really spot-on

victortrevored:

#there is absolutely no fucking way this isn’t haunting him #every goddamn day #one of the last things he got to say to sherlock holmes when he was more than a name on a headstone #and he replays it over and over again and drives himself crazy #probably catches himself imaging a dozen and one different things he could have said #standing at the kitchen counter with his tea oversteeping and a second mug sitting nearby that he didn’t even know he’d grabbed #ugh get away

refyrolak:

Johnlock’s lovechild. So hard.

holdmyhandmydear:

Unposted Series | Moran | 004 

If I have to suffer with this, then so does he. (x)

benedictatorship:

sassysharpshooter:

areyoutryingtodeduceme:

when I find myself in times of trouble

sherlock holmes comes to me

speaking words of wisdom

don’t be an idiot

And in my hour of darkness

John Watson is standing right in front of me

Speaking words of wisdom

Alright Spock, take it easy

Lestrade be, Lestrade be, Lestrade be, Lestrade be

speaking words of wisdom

don’t commit suicide

Written for Prompt 2 (Gluttony) of the Party Shernanigans

—-

It was odd. Although most of Sunday School had blurred into a hazy smog along with the rest of his memories, John distinctly remembered the day the priest had taught him about gluttony. Father Williams had explained the concept of the deadly sin, how the Devil tempted people to indulge in food and drink past their natural limits, but John hadn’t understood; why would anyone want to drown themselves in excess? As a boy who had always been grounded in moderation and in respecting his body (he already had the soul of a doctor even at that young age), nothing about this “gluttony” sounded at all tempting.

But then the war happened. Or rather, Sherlock happened.

 And for eighteen months, he lived in a super-saturated world, a world where every day was too bright and too fast and too much, and he loved it. And so when that world had been ripped away from him with the sickening crack of a skull against the pavement, when the only colours he saw was the glossy black of a gravestone and the white of a dead corpse’s flesh, John desperately craved for his wonderful, colourful, alive world. And so he added colours to his life, his monotone life that was so very dull. The crimson of red wine, the amber of beer, the emerald of absinthe; he wasn’t picky, as long as it did its job. After all, if there was one thing that the last eighteen months had taught him, it was that the body was nothing more than transport. 

bkr-221:

leandralocke:

pieceofgold:

 #i know a lot of people toy with the idea of sherlock being a manifestation of john’s loneliness when he comes back from afghanistan #but what if it was the other way around? #sherlock can’t tolerate people#they can’t tolerate him #he can’t find someone who’s intelligent enough and strong enough and resilient enough to put up with him #but the skull can only go so far and so his mind creates this person #john #who is everything every single thing he was looking for and he’s also damaged just enough #and he stands up for and to sherlock #humanizes him #so sherlock brings john everywhere and attributes things to john and john this and john that #but to everyone else john is thin air or sherlock talking to himself

#nope

paperlings:

John.

ppworkspace:

S/J