His Loyal Blogger

a lovely night { open prince au }

—- John takes a sip from his goblet, savoring the wine. It’s good stuff, fit for his taste.

"No offense, sire, but this gala is boring as Hell. Do you want to give me a tour of your castle? If only to give us both an excuse to get out of here?"

He gives Sherlock a side glance, still murmuring into his goblet so as not to attract attention with their discussion.

—- A slow smirk curls the princes lips; perhaps not quite so boring as he looked.

"It is my duty to assure that all our guests have an enjoyable stay if it is within my power." The prince replies, a mock bow given to the duke.

"Right this way." Sherlock leads the way, slipping easily from the crowd. The roar of the party quiets to a dull murmur, before finally ceasing entirely into silence. The halls are dark, torches light them at regular intervals.

"This hall leads nowhere and there is nothing interesting in it. Same for that one and that one."

--- John sniffs with each hall that they pass, taking a sip of wine in order to clear the scent to collect a new one. Ah so that's where the offices are, ladies quarters, the king's study down that hall...

"Ah, so it's not just me. Your castle is as boring as my father thought." John remarks.

a lovely night { open prince au }

—- Being a duke was never something John thought would be a long time thing. At the rate that his ‘father’ drank, his ‘mother’s ‘passing, and the disappearance of his sister, he’d always thought that some sort of assassination plot would destroy the bloodline.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves his country… he just isn’t too fond the legacy. Being adopted into a tyrannical estate of affairs was not on the young man’s list of things to do.

His ‘father’, once more back at their estate, drunk off his arse, has forced John into coming to this event in order to pay respects to the neighboring kingdom.

He should have just taken off then and there, hiding in the mountains.

But no, he wouldn’t do that to Scotland.

Eyes sharp, a glint of yellow passing across his storm colored eyes like a flash of lightning. Ah. The Prince. There he is.

He can practically smell the royal blood.

John takes a long sip of his wine before swiping the bottle, hiding it beneath his simple crimson cloak.

He sneaks up beside him, casual as possible.

"I heard chameleons were only in the exotic continents. I’m sorry sir but you are not quite passing for one." He smirks into his goblet, eyes watching the crowd rather than the person currently pressed into the pillar.

—- He does not j u m p at the sound of a voice at his elbow. Prince Sherlock Holmes of Britain is not so easily surprised.

He does, however, turn, a look of complete, true, and utter boredom written on every inch of his face. Pale eyes flicker over the man before him. Duke, Scottish, John, easily identified from the list of names, portraits, Sherlock had needed to memorize before the gala had begun. Bottle of ale- no, wine, tucked beneath his cloak.

"I’m not trying to pass for anything, only to pass the time." He counters easily enough, gaze flicking back out to the sea of attendees milling about the room, swirling over the dance floor.

--- John takes a sip from his goblet, savoring the wine. It's good stuff, fit for his taste.

"No offense, sire, but this gala is boring as Hell. Do you want to give me a tour of your castle? If only to give us both an excuse to get out of here?"

He gives Sherlock a side glance, still murmuring into his goblet so as not to attract attention with their discussion.

doehearted-blog1

"You're the one person I actually trust."

Sherlock looked up from where she’s nursing a bruise on her ribs with an ice pack pressed to the sore spot over her camisole and she laughs bitterly, the taste of blood still prominent in her mouth from where she’d been biting the inside of her cheek during take off.

Then, the plane landed, but she still had the stench of Magnus’s blood on her and she shook her head. “That’s the worse decision you could make John….” she breathed out.

"Sherlock." John murmurs again, pulling back slightly and letting out a soft breath.

He’s watching her, his medical knowledge kicking in, forcing him to re evaluate the situation they’re currently. It’s not like he doesn’t want to, of course. He really wants to.

But is she even healthy enough for this.

His eyes lock with hers, searching her blown pupils, trying to get a gauge on if this is just shock, or just something to ground her.

His thumbs run lightly over her skin, being incredibly carefully as he holds her.

"Are you alright?" He murmurs.

doehearted-blog1

"John." she says back dully, trying to chase his lips, but her head falls against his and she lets out a long steady breath once he pulls back to look at her. "I’m not glass…." she replies in a level tone, staring him down.

Yes. Moriarty was back, her whole world, those three years were crumbling down around her.

She was fine, rational and she knew that this could be dealt with. It couldn’t actually be him. It couldn’t…. It couldn’t be. Her hand is resting over his heart and the steady thrum brings her back. “I’m as fine as I can be…” she stated briskly.

"I know you aren't made of glass." He murmurs, gently grazing her lips with his own. "I'm just trying to figure out if this is the shock speaking."

He trails his lips down her neck, hands splaying across her back and drawing her close to him.

"Everything is really going to shite, eh?"

He continues to pepper her with kisses before capturing her lips once more with his. His heart pounds against his chest.

a lovely night { open prince au }

—-The sole, singular, solitary reason Sherlock was anywhere near this sordid affair was because Father had come and dragged him away from his hiding spot and threatened to upset his experiments if he didn’t at least ~p r e t e n d~ to be happy for his brother. Stupid. It weren’t as if the world was unaware that, as the eldest, Mycroft was going to be king someday. And if they were he mourned the state of the kingdom. Mycroft’s problem though, not his.

The young prince was half hidden behind a pillar in the massive sprawling ballroom, a pleasant smile that failed to reach his eyes lifted his lips each time a member of the royal family glanced his way; before falling into complete and utter passivity when the gaze left.

--- Being a duke was never something John thought would be a long time thing. At the rate that his 'father' drank, his 'mother's 'passing, and the disappearance of his sister, he'd always thought that some sort of assassination plot would destroy the bloodline.

Don't get him wrong, he loves his country... he just isn't too fond the legacy. Being adopted into a tyrannical estate of affairs was not on the young man's list of things to do.

His 'father', once more back at their estate, drunk off his arse, has forced John into coming to this event in order to pay respects to the neighboring kingdom.

He should have just taken off then and there, hiding in the mountains.

But no, he wouldn't do that to Scotland.

Eyes sharp, a glint of yellow passing across his storm colored eyes like a flash of lightning. Ah. The Prince. There he is.

He can practically smell the royal blood.

John takes a long sip of his wine before swiping the bottle, hiding it beneath his simple crimson cloak.

He sneaks up beside him, casual as possible.

"I heard chameleons were only in the exotic continents. I'm sorry sir but you are not quite passing for one." He smirks into his goblet, eyes watching the crowd rather than the person currently pressed into the pillar.

#winging it

Fluffy starters (since the first one was so popular)

"Come and cuddle with me"

"You smell nice"

"Would it be rude of me to kiss you?"

"I think... I think I love you"

"Do you love me?"

"I got you a gift!"

"Oh you got me a gift!"

"Would you like permission to enter the kingdom of blanket-fort-land?"

"Here are some cookies I made for you!"

"Here, help me make some cookies."

"Stop! Stop tickling me or I'll pee myself!"

"I'm going to tickle you 'till you wet your pants!"

"I'm sleepy, and you're warm so I am going to cuddle you now."

“GLOW”

—-Merde.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, not to h i m .

Prince William Sherlock stared at the spot on the guard’s chest that was pulsing with a warm glow. He doesn’t need to look down to see the answering glow beating from his own chest, can glimpse reflections glinting in the fine chain of the other’s mail.

Blink, f o c u s.

Say something, idiot.

"I play the violin when I’m thinking, sometimes I don’t talk for days on end. Will that bother you? Soulmates should know the worst about each other.”

No. This can’t be happening.

It feels like the fire that normally warms his stomach, is pulsing out from his heart.

And for this Prince? How odd.

Sir John Hamish Watson, kneels before the prince, trying not to stare too intently at the fascinating light emitting from the Princes’ chest. He’s drawn to it like a moth to flame.

"I… I am already used to such things, sire. I do not mind at all."

—- Sherlock dips his head in acknowledgement. Stop staring.

He brushes past, waving a hand for the knight to rise as he does so.

"Your quarters are adjoined to mine." That was where they would go now, to… Figure out what was to be done about t h i s .

"Yes, sire." John replies, standing up with a clank of his armor.

He grabs hold of the sword at his side out of habit, holding onto the hilt as he follows the prince.

Becoming the Princes' new personal guard wasn't something John had always wanted to do. No. He felt far more comfortable on the battle field. A place where he could spread his wings and use his abilities to his advantage.

Unfortunately for him, he was too good of a fighter. The royal family saw him as an asset and soon, after his latest injury, had him sent to work for the Palace.

This development, however, has changed his entire view on this job.

This could be interesting.

“GLOW”

—-Merde.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, not to h i m .

Prince William Sherlock stared at the spot on the guard’s chest that was pulsing with a warm glow. He doesn’t need to look down to see the answering glow beating from his own chest, can glimpse reflections glinting in the fine chain of the other’s mail.

Blink, f o c u s.

Say something, idiot.

"I play the violin when I’m thinking, sometimes I don’t talk for days on end. Will that bother you? Soulmates should know the worst about each other.”

#oh sure #use french on the spanish speaker

No. This can't be happening.

It feels like the fire that normally warms his stomach, is pulsing out from his heart.

And for this Prince? How odd.

Sir John Hamish Watson, kneels before the prince, trying not to stare too intently at the fascinating light emitting from the Princes' chest. He's drawn to it like a moth to flame.

"I... I am already used to such things, sire. I do not mind at all."

turnandsit

series 5 johnlock be like

missadventvre-blog

My daughter has not seen her biological dad since she was four. She’s 11 now. When she was two he contacted me and asked if I would allow him to terminate his parental rights so he could stop paying child support and I agreed.. I wanted to spare her the heartache of a revolving door father and the sacrifice of the financial support was well worth him never being able to disappoint her again. I never lied to her about where he went or who her dad was.. I have always answered her questions in the most age appropriate way possible. When she was four he contacted me and told me he has been diagnosed with cancer and would like to see her. I set aside a day and we met in the park. He had asked for two hours. He stayed 20 minutes and we never heard from him again.. Over the summer we ran into somebody that knows him and they commented on how she looks like his other children. They elaborated that he has settled down and has a family now. My stomach tied itself in knots thinking of how hurtful that must be to my daughter.. I cut the conversation short and we got in the car to leave and that’s when I saw her smiling. She said “mom.. He figured out how to be a dad. That’s such a nice thing. I’m happy for his kids.” And that’s the day an 11 year old taught me all I need to know about forgiveness

A comment on this Humans of New York post

Read this and had to share. Beautiful.

This made me cry.

(via livingthelifeilead)

This post never fails to give me chills.

(via insanityismichelle)

mxgneticsarchive

Send me "You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?" for a starter where my muse has been in some sort of accident that has left them permanently injured in some way.

bonus points if you include how: coma, blindness, deafness, muteness. The possibilities are endless.

"You vere zhe hero, I vas zhe villain." She smirked and accepted the mug, taking her usual seat at the table.

Sherlock delved into his food, which was unusual. Though he did love chicken teriyaki.

"All three disappeared from opposite ends of the city, one after…

"Their names are what really caught my attention." He steppled his fingers, staring at the wall in thought.

"The first one was named William. The second Scott. The third went by his surname Holmes."

He paused a moment longer before retrieving his mug of tea.

"Of course it could be complete coincidence, but the universe is rarely so lazy."

John looks up from his notepad, raising an eyebrow. “William Scott Holmes? Isn’t that…?”

He tilts his head with a frown before taking a sip of his tea. John’s hand ghost over his aching leg not liking the sound of this.

"Somebody vants your attention. And zhe netvork is a good vay to get it vizhout drawing public attention." Bernadette dug into her own food, thinking it over.

Sherlock turned back to his own meal, he really was hungry.

"Who would want my attention enough to kill for it… Moriarty’s network is dead. Our nastier cases are all imprisoned… If this is secretly Mycroft, I swear I will strangle him with his own perfect tie."

"Mycroft may be an ass, but he's not one to kill kids, Sherlock." John replies as voice of reason. He wonders when the last he ate seeing Sherlock as hungry as he is.

John isn't hungry at all, to be honest.

Another sip of tea.

John staggers up and limps over to the fridge, putting away his container. "Well, lemme get changed. I'll go out and do some leg work tonight."

zacksdoodles

NOT BY ME GUYS -

Introducing one of my favorite artists - 字字派. She is perfect, from all aspects. Yes.

There are soooo many great artists here in China but they do not have Tumblr accounts for some reasons, so I’ve asked for permission to share some of her works with everyone on Tumblr! Here is her art: Captain John Watson.

Note: To find her, there’s her PIXIV add at the source of this post, or you can drop me an ask><

"You vere zhe hero, I vas zhe villain." She smirked and accepted the mug, taking her usual seat at the table.

Sherlock delved into his food, which was unusual. Though he did love chicken teriyaki.

"All three disappeared from opposite ends of the city, one after…

"Their names are what really caught my attention." He steppled his fingers, staring at the wall in thought.

"The first one was named William. The second Scott. The third went by his surname Holmes."

He paused a moment longer before retrieving his mug of tea.

"Of course it could be complete coincidence, but the universe is rarely so lazy."