tannertan36
Love Begins
Product Placement
PR's Tumblrdome
KIROKAZE
Game Changer & Make Some Noise
@theartofmadeline
Origami Around
ellievsbear
No title available
Cosmic Funnies
Doug Jones
pixel skylines
Cookie Run:Kingdom Official!
d e v o n
Today's Document
Phantogram Three
Sweet Seals For You, Always
The Bowery Presents
almost home
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Pakistan
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Brazil
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Brazil
seen from Australia
seen from Türkiye
seen from Bulgaria
@excurarum-blog
“D’you know how hard I have to try not to think about what I might find in this flat every time I start to walk up those stairs?”
“Do you know what it’s like to have to check for eyes in your morning tea every other day? All it takes is one miss.”
@excurarum
“ – that your idea of tasteful decoration, or his? It’s a bit… off-putting.”
“Well. Holidays are over, so...you know. Okay to leave body parts all over the kitchen again.”
“Well, I lasted somewhere in the region of six hours. I’m already impressed.”
He seems to notice, belatedly, that John’s amusement isn’t quite as real as it appears, and throws him a mildly apologetic smile. Pairing it with a light shrug, he slides his hands into the deep pockets of his coat.
“Look, don’t take it the wrong way, mate. There’s a pool running on everything in this place.” The Met, he means. “Everything you can get odds on, at least. How long before you move out, how long until Sherlock ends up in jail himself. How long before my wife leaves me for good, this time.”
His tone is carefully light, and there’s no hurt in his face as he says it. Fact of life.
“It’s a morale thing. Tough job; you’ve got to have an almost callous sense of detachment, sometimes. Best to roll with the punches.”
There’s a grimace on John’s face, because of course he knows Lestrade was not saying it to be hurtful, and Sherlock is difficult. You only have to spend a few minutes with him to realize that. But it doesn’t make Donovan and Anderson’s comments any less bitter or vicious.
“No, look, you’re right.” He purses his lips, nods with a glance at Sherlock, who is currently having it out with the poor bloke in charge of kicking him out of the scene. “And it’s not you saying it, or even getting the offhanded comment every other month, it’s...” John shrugs, a helpless little gesture, “It gets old.”
“Anyway.” This time his smile is more honest, an apology in there somewhere, “Mark me down as not leaving anytime soon, on that bet.”
@excurarum
❛ i haven’t seen you on a DATING website, have i?
“—What? Me? Well.” He clears his throat. “I’ve not gone that route just yet, no.”
“Looking for your date?”
“Oh, very clever.”
He snorts a breath of laughter and shakes his head, still mildly surprised by Sherlock’s attitude after all these years – the almost childlike obsession of a highly intelligent man.
“Well, tell him there’s plenty of crimes going on in London. He doesn’t just have to turn up at mine, y’know. —-I give it six months, by the way. Before you’re looking for a new flat.”
John almost points out that Lestrade, by nature of being Detective Inspector, is more likely to have a more interesting case for Sherlock to dig into than some of the boring open-shut problems that people bring to the flat.
A blink.
“Six months? Well—” John chortles quietly, though it’s less honest now. There’s something about everyone’s conviction in this matter that he finds grating. It makes him want to prove them wrong. “That’s more than anyone’s bet so far. Cheers.”
soft john ♥
“Don’t think I don’t know why you’re asking,” he retorts, and though he tries to keep his face stern, he can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, exasperated but almost fond.
“Not unless you find your run-of-the-mill blunt force trauma interesting.” He shrugs a shoulder, slips his phone out of his pocket and flicks through a couple of emails that have pinged through while he’s been in the crime scene. “Don’t you have something better to do with your time? There’s names for people who hang ‘round too much at crime scenes, y’know.”
“Well! He’s desperate enough he just might. Not a lot of cases this week, he mmmight have run after the police cars, when you passed us on the street.” Sad thing is he’s not even exaggerating. John will likely have to check all the usual places for cigarettes again, once they get home.
At least it doesn’t seem like Greg’s terribly stressed at the moment, and John raises his eyebrows innocently, hands held behind his back as he bounces once on his toes.
“...Police?”
He swings on his jacket, finally free of the confines of the suit, rolling his eyes as he does. Whether it’s at Sherlock’s possible antics, or John’s possible co-conspiracy, it’s not entirely clear.
“’Course. Blakeney -”
(He hails down an officer who looks mildly put-out to have had his coffee run interrupted.)
“ -if you see Sherlock Holmes, kick him out, would you? Tell him he can read the case file like any other consultant.” He turns back to John and watches him for a moment, as if mildly suspicious.
“I’ll assume you can remove yourself, shall I?” It’s amused, not unfriendly, and the way he tips his head as he moves towards the door makes it clear enough that he expects John to walk with him.
There’s a quirk to his lips, but John raises his hands, perfectly harmless, and follows.·
It’s amusing to watch Sherlock at crime scenes sometimes. Like a dog barking and running at a flock of pigeons that dared to invade his playground. Or like a child. That’s closer to how Lestrade treats Sherlock when he’s being particularly recalcitrant. John can’t really blame him for it.
“So, anything interesting with this one?” Not that he’s looking to give Sherlock an in here. But he’s bound to behave like a prat once he’s kicked out of the scene, and it might save Greg from another shouting match, at least.
@excurarum
There’s always something undignified about trying to pull oneself out of a crime scene suit; he gave up really making the effort years ago. He flails one arm out, reaches around to pull the blue Tyvek off away from his shirt.
He’s looking around for wherever he’d hung his jacket, one arm still in the suit, when he catches sight of the familiar figure.
“Christ.” He wriggles his second arm free. “You know, if you start spending any more time at my crime scenes, I’ll have to put you on the bloody payroll. Go on then – where is he? Skulking around trying to solve my case again?”
However obediently he might have put on one of those jumpsuits the first time around, John is perfectly willing to play dumb now, until someone calls him out on that particular requirement.
Seeing Lestrade fumble with loud plastic sleeves doesn’t help convince him otherwise. Though he’s polite enough to purse his lips to hide his amusement at the sight.
It’s not exactly an outrageous suggestion; it’s more likely that he’d manage to hold down a job in law enforcement than in medicine these days.
“Actually, I think I saw him roll underneath a sofa, just now.”
Originally posted by notmydate
//how did i get here
