w.s.s. holmes.

━━━━━━━━ ⋅⋆﹒﹐❛ mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself ﹔ but talent instantly recognises 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒖𝒔.

[indiciummentis]

      …   I  CAN  CRAVE  YOU  BUT  YOU  DON’T  NEED  TO  KNOW.

                                                   #  pluviophile  rained  here.

graphic by the talented @wtsns ♡

[afishlearningpoetry]

– So, who loves you?

[governmentofficial]

indiciummentis​:

WORDS. That’s what his brother is good at. His presence is punctually accompanied by big words ; he dresses up in them, uses them as a crown, the same way a king would to show off his wealth. Because that’s exactly what Mycroft Holmes is, a man of power, someone who’d be reluctant to give it up, should the occasion present itself. Sherlock frowns at him. Big brother likes to call him an addict, but that reveals so much about him. Because what is Mycroft Holmes, if not another addict himself?

“I do manage.” Sherlock says with another scoff. This time he does turn around though, to look at him. It’s almost painful. With a roll of the eyes, he lets his attention focus upon the case file he’s pulled out. A smirk, fleeting as it is, crosses his lips. “Do you, brother dear? That jacket is new.” He comments, with faux nonchalance. That’s what he’s really good at. Deflecting. “And so is that waistcoat.” He’s gained a few more pounds, obviously.

“It looks new because it is. The MoD have just redecorated the room that I have my regular meetings in.” Mycroft liked to match his outfit to his surroundings. He didn’t stop at merely separating city suits from those to be worn in the country - what he was wearing also needed to co-ordinate in terms of colour and pattern, meaning that if he was going to be spending a lot of time in a newly decorated area, then of course a new suit was going to be required.

Obviously he was in possession of an outfit that would match his brother’s home too, but it was not efficient to change every time he wished to visit a new location. Because of this, he tended to wear whatever would best match either where he would be spending the most time, or where his most important meeting was. 221b was rarely either of these things. Mycroft was no fool; he knew that his brother would not tolerate his presence for too long.

But anyway, not of that was important. Sherlock was attempting to change the subject and Mycroft was not about to allow it.

“I do appreciate that you did not attempt to deny that you have nothing to do right now. It is so very tedious when you attempt such a thing, especially when it is obvious from the fact that you are here, moping about instead of chasing down a lead like some kind of bloodhound, that the detective business is rather quiet at the moment.”

[indiciummentis]

   TEDIOUS. But, after all, his brother’s visits often are. Even more so when John isn’t around to mitigate them. It’s miserable without him. Sherlock still doesn’t understand why he doesn’t quit his job and start working full time with him on cases. A problem for another time. Sherlock hates to admit it, but his brother is right. The lack of cases and John’s absence are making Sherlock’s life quite dull at the moment. It happened, on occasion, that his thoughts would seek the appeasing feeling that only something seven percent stronger than nicotine could provide. The temptation has never stretched past his imagination though  ;  the detective has been able to keep it under control, locked away behind a door in his mind palace. This doesn’t preclude that Mycroft’s visit might have been, even in the slightest, salvific. 

   “All the cases in my inbox have been either below a seven or they’ve been solved over text.” Sherlock sighs out loud then, unclasping his hands that he had joined behind his back and flopping dramatically onto the sofa, dressing gown flowing out after him. “Anything below a seven in that case file would be a waste of my time.”

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  smut  /  nsfw  implied  sentence  starters  with  not  so  vulgar  language.  )

❛ i’ve been thinking about you all day. ❜

❛ you can kiss me, you know. ❜

❛ how badly do you want me? ❜

❛ i can’t get enough of you. ❜

❛ i’ve never done something like this before. ❜

❛ i like being close to you. you’re warm. ❜

❛ you look good like this. ❜

❛ you look like you were jealous. ❜

❛ i’m not jealous. ❜

❛ shh. there’s people in the other room. ❜

❛ say you want me, and i’m yours. ❜ 

❛ i won’t bite. unless you’re into that sort of thing. ❜

❛ i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know. ❜

❛ would you like to go somewhere a little more private? ❜

❛ i’ll take care of you. ❜

❛ there’s so many things i wanna do to you. ❜

❛ take off your clothes. ❜

❛ i’m going to ruin you. ❜

❛ show me how much you missed me. ❜

❛ is this okay? ❜

❛ you know you love me. ❜

❛ i want you to feel good. ❜

❛ make me. ❜

❛ i want this. ❜

❛ come back to bed. ❜

❛ you’re such a tease. ❜

❛ want me to model these for you? ❜

❛ we have to make this quick. ❜

❛ what are you looking at? ❜

❛ it’s hot when you talk back. ❜

❛ you don’t have to be gentle. i won’t break. ❜

❛ don’t you know what you’re doing to me? ❜

❛ i really want to kiss you right now. ❜

❛ this is a one time thing. ❜

❛ you know where to find me. ❜

❛ did i say you could stop? ❜

❛ you’re soaked. let me grab you a towel. ❜

❛ i want to see you. ❜

❛ are you wearing my shirt? ❜

❛ no ones here. we can be as loud as we want. ❜

❛ you look good with my hands around your throat. ❜

❛ i’ll be good, i promise. ❜

❛ you’re really good at that. ❜

❛ shut up and kiss me already. ❜

❛ you better watch your fucking mouth. ❜

❛ don’t mind me. just enjoying the view. ❜

❛ tell me what you want. ❜

❛ here’s my hotel room number. ❜

❛ you can be rough. i can take it. ❜

❛ and where do you think you’re going? ❜

❛ if you called just to get off on my voice, i’m hanging up. ❜

❛ i shouldn’t allow myself to get this close to you. ❜

❛ what if i hurt you? ❜

❛ you could never hurt me. ❜

[spidersdance-arc-deactivated202]

indiciummentis·:

   Sherlock knows something is off when he first steps into the flat. The silence is deafening,  so deafening that he can smell the danger impregnating the wallpaper and each one of the seventeen steps leading up to the sitting room. He’s careful while he climbs upstairs,  though the creaking of the wood underneath his feet isn’t merciful. Green eyes settle on the criminal’s deep brown when they finally meet,  and a single shiver runs down Sherlock’s spine in his presence.  Rage. Pure rage bubbling up the pit of his stomach and spreading across his entire body. Raw,  primordial rage begging to be unleashed. 

   “What did you do to her?” is his question as soon as the snake mentions Mrs Hudson. The answer he gets is what he most dreads. The detective doesn’t miss any of Moriarty’s movements while he sits down and keeps talking. He’s attentive, vigilant,  he forgets to blink,  even. But then he knows,  deep down,   there’s only so much he can do to monitor him. With Moriarty around,  one has to expect the unexpected. 

   At the mention of John,  his blood runs cold. Sherlock tries to appear composed,  unbothered,  as he lifts up his chin and takes a few steps toward his rival. “John is at work.” A pause. “What do you want?” 

        There’s nothing Jim enjoys more than prodding for a reaction. It’s a game within a game, a way for him to gauge Sherlock’s moods. And his vulnerabilities. The detective steps forward when John’s mentioned - It doesn’t go unnoticed. “Funny. You seem more bothered about me threatening your blogger than you do about your p o o r housekeeper bound and gagged downstairs.” He doesn’t bother standing up, his eyes roaming around the room before eventually falling back to stare up at Sherlock. He debates telling the truth - That Mrs Hudson was safely coaxed away under the pretence of winning a free lunch at the Savoy. Then again, what would be the fun in that?

         “I think you’re fond of him.” The words come out in a sing-songy breath, eyebrows shifting suggestively to further hammer home the point. “Can’t see why though. He’s rather plain. I would’ve thought you’d prefer someone slightly more intellectually stimulating.” Hands clasp. “I thought I’d drop by, say hello - You’re a terrible host, by the way.” A pause. “Since you’re taking your time asking, I’ll have a tea. Just a drop of milk, no sugar, I’m sweet enough.”

[indiciummentis]

   Moriarty’s serpentine like movements keep Sherlock on the hook. He watches closely enough his eyes begin to water  --  that’s when he realises he hasn’t been blinking. When he moves, Sherlock does too. When John’s name is on his filthy mouth again, he shudders, heart faltering in his chest. He shouldn’t be allowed to pronounce his name, he isn’t worthy of such a thing. Sherlock wants to fight him. There is a moment when he considers pouncing on him, his hands squeezing the breath out of his lungs, and the life out of his body. He doesn’t do any of those things, despite the temptation being quite high. He stands instead, in a feline like posture, his back slightly arched and his body stretching upwards, chin high. 

   It’s hard to ignore Moriarty’s provocations, but it’s something he  *  must do. With an unperturbed look on his face, Sherlock departs, walking toward the kitchen. “Please, make yourself at home.” The words that leave Sherlock’s mouth carry faux politeness. They’re heavy on his tongue as he lets them out, unwillingly. “Do excuse the mess, perhaps next time you’ll want to give notice about your visit a few days prior,” he speaks with a sedate tone, as he puts the kettle on. A look is spared in Jim’s direction. “I was quite busy working on your case.”

[governmentofficial]

@indiciummentis continued from [x]

 The scoff that leaves Sherlock’s lips is more dramatic than anything,  and it is particularly marked upon the sight of his elder brother sitting in his chair. Must he really choose that one,  every single bloody time? Of course he must. At the mention of a new case,  Sherlock’s eyes sparkle for the briefest moment. He’s quick to turn and mask his momentary excitement though  –  it’s a reflex that he can’t quite get rid of,  no matter how hard he tries around Mycroft.

  Sherlock turns on his heel,  facing the window. His hands are clasped behind his back,  and there’s a focused expression lingering upon his features as he gazes outside. It would be clear to anyone who even remotely knows him that he’s occupied with unraveling some kind of doubt clouding his thoughts. His face relaxes completely after a moment or two,  when he’s come to a conclusion. “You’re worried,” he simply states then,  not even bothering to turn around and meet his brother’s eyes. There are usually two reasons why Mycroft asks for his help. The first one is when he actually needs help,  though in that specific case he never pays him a visit first. The second one,  much more dreaded by the younger Holmes,  involves a courtesy visit at 221B in the attempt not to wind Sherlock up over his “subtle” offer.

  “Once again brother dear, I am very touched by your concern,  but should I remind you that I am no longer a child who needs tending to? In fact,  I manage perfectly on my own.”

The way his brother reacted to something as simple as a puzzle was in endearing, though only to a limited degree. In some ways, he was like an excitable puppy that had spotted somebody throwing a stick in the local park. It was childlike, but was that really surprising. To Mycroft, at least, Sherlock had never really grown up. One just had to look at the way he lived his life to see that.

He waited without work for the other man to respond, allowing him a moment to mull over the offer of a case. Obviously Sherlock would have to ask himself why. He knew full well that Mycroft did not make offers if they did not benefit him in some way. Here, that benefit was not providing a distraction so that his brother (hopefully) stayed out of trouble, but also any answers from the case would be rather useful within his own work.

“If you could manage on your own, then I would have no need to be worried,” Mycroft pointed out in return. The unspoken addition to what he was saying was that if it weren’t logical to worry, then he wouldn’t - ergo, Sherlock had nothing to blame but his own behaviour if he did not want his brother to feel the need to keep an eye on him.

“You can, of course, turn down the case if you find it more important to be childish than busy with something interesting. Knowing you, I have planned for that possibility.”

[indiciummentis]

WORDS. That's what his brother is good at. His presence is punctually accompanied by big words ; he dresses up in them, uses them as a crown, the same way a king would to show off his wealth. Because that's exactly what Mycroft Holmes is, a man of power, someone who'd be reluctant to give it up, should the occasion present itself. Sherlock frowns at him. Big brother likes to call him an addict, but that reveals so much about him. Because what is Mycroft Holmes, if not another addict himself?

“I do manage.” Sherlock says with another scoff. This time he does turn around though, to look at him. It's almost painful. With a roll of the eyes, he lets his attention focus upon the case file he's pulled out. A smirk, fleeting as it is, crosses his lips. “Do you, brother dear? That jacket is new.” He comments, with faux nonchalance. That's what he's really good at. Deflecting. “And so is that waistcoat.” He's gained a few more pounds, obviously.

[itsusxallysubtext]

indiciummentis·:

    It’s quiet when John pulls him inside the wardrobe,  too quiet even. Not that it bothers him,  on the contrary,  it allows him to tend ear and be aware of what is happening outside of their little hiding spot. In fact, Sherlock did hear someone come,  and he was trying to buy some time to think of a backup plan to handle the situation and get some  …  useful information out of it.  Sherlock turns so that he’s facing John,  and for a moment he’s taken aback by the closeness of their faces in that enclosed space.   RIGHT.

    “I need you to stay here and not say a word,  do you understand?” His voice sounds commanding even as he delivers those words in a feeble whisper,  while he tries to mask the surprise and the slight nervousness in his tone. It happens quite a lot when John is around, especially when they’re alone. Something to dwell upon when they’re both in a safer situation.

     John isn’t really surprised that they find themselves in a wardrobe. In fact it’s by far not the weirdest place they’ve been stuck in for a case, and if John is being honest then it’s quite comfortable compared to the other ones. “Copy that.” He nods in response, feeling just how close Sherlock is standing to him. Again, not the first time, and yet it’s easier to handle somehow, because the other man can’t see every emotion passing over his face.

    “Right. And where exactly are you going?” He whispers as quietly as possible, feeling the warmth of Sherlock’s body in front of him. 

[indiciummentis]

   John. John, John John... incredible as he is, standing some inches away from his body and Sherlock finds it hard to step away. But he has to be quick, for the sake of the case (  and of their impromptu plan.  ) When John asks that question, a quick smile appears on the detective’s bow shaped lips. “I am going to have a chat with our suspect, obviously.” He whispers, and just like that, he’s gone before someone could enter the room and catch him come out of a piece of furniture.

   Anyone who even remotely knows him is aware that Sherlock doesn’t mind danger ; he thrives on it, even, gets off on the thrill of the chase and on the adrenaline that it leaves in its wake. Though there’s something about having John hidden somewhere in the room, ready to attack should it be needed, that makes him feel somewhat... safe.

   The sound of steps approaching the door grows in intensity, and Sherlock has approximately three seconds to make his appearance look less... suspicious. Luckily enough, this is his job, and he’s incredibly good at it.

   A man walks in the room, his face evidently confused as his gaze lands on Sherlock. Meanwhile, his posture has completely changed. The consulting detective stands relaxed, as though he’s completely forgotten about the reason why he’s there and what he is doing. A hand comes up to comb through his own hair, moving around the carefully tamed curls in a casual gesture. “Oh, Mister Adwell, I do apologise for showing up without any notice. I had a word with your housekeeper and she was kind enough to let me in.” Under the confused gaze of the man standing in front of him, Sherlock pulls out of his pocket a little police badge. “I’m detective Holmes, with the Yard.”

[soulprompts]

emotionally intense prompts.

idk my dudes i started listening to the etern.als theme music and now i have these things. bon appetit!

“ i’d follow you to the ends of the universe, if you asked me to. ”

“ how bad is it this time? ”

“ we’re the only thing standing between this world and its destruction. ”

“ we could stop all of this… with just a thought/flick of my wrist. “

“ fair?! how is any of this fair?! “

“ do you truly believe that anything so little as a rule, or a law, might have stopped me from protecting you? “

“ we have to fight. ”

“ we’re not giving up. ”

“ you. i’ll always and endlessly fight for you. “

“ i can wait a thousand lifetimes for you. “

“ we’ve had a pretty good life. but maybe normalcy is a thing we’re meant to protect, rather than enjoy. ”

“ i don’t know if i can protect you any longer. “

“ we’ve seen what they’re capable of. now we need to retaliate. “

“ if only the world knew what we do for them… ”

“ i’m sick and tired of being the one who has to make the sacrifices! ”

“ haven’t we lost enough? ”

“ i’m tired. beyond tired… i am exhausted from the endless fighting. ”

“ things must be catastrophic if you’re calling me at this hour. ”

“ this is what we’ve been waiting for. ”

“ i’d follow you to the bitter end; as i always have. ”

“ the time has come. ”

“ this is what we’ve been waiting for. ”

“ i thought we had more time.  i regret to confess… it appears that i was wrong. ”

“ don’t let them control you, eh? ”

“ you’re better than this. ”

“ everything’s about to change… ”

“ do you truly think so little of me? ”

“ careful… you’ve never had to fight me before. ”

“ we need to leave. ”

“ we’re a good team, you know. “

“ look around you. do you still truly see no reason for us to fight? “

“ we’re family. we don’t turn our backs on each other. “

“ it’s too late! let’s go! ”

“ it wasn’t your fault… ”

“ why are you doing this?! ”

“ i’m sorry… “

“ perhaps i don’t say it enough, but… i’d like you to know that i’m always here, if you ever wanted to talk. ”

“ you/they will always be worth fighting for. ”

“ don’t pretend like you understand. “

“ tell me how i can fix this… ”

“ don’t say it. ”

“ they’re not worth saving. ”

“ i am a god. you… you’re nothing. “

“ well. for whatever it’s worth, it’s been a pleasure fighting alongside you. ”

[indiciummentis]

STARTER  CALL  !!

by liking this post, you give me permission to send you a quick starter. (  length may vary depending on muse.  )

by reblogging this post, you give me permission to message you privately to discuss a plot.

[spidersdance-arc-deactivated202]

~ @indiciummentis​ || ❤️’d for a starter ~

     “Your landlady is an awful fusspot, isn’t she? Asking s o o o many questions. ‘What’re you doing here?’ ‘Why won’t you go away?’ ‘Who told you you could come here?’. ” Eyes roll backwards accompanied by a huff of annoyance. “I told her to go make me tea - She didn’t appreciate it. T e r r i b l y inhospitable.” Jim’s attention lifts to meet Sherlock’s gaze, hands smoothing over the front of his suit as he steps into the living room. God, how he hates it. The wallpaper is truly horrendous. “I explained very nicely -” Nose wrinkles, disdain etched on his features, as he tries to figure out where to sit. “That I’m just here to see my good friend Sherlock.” Eventually he opts to perch on the edge of the sofa, as if fearing he’ll catch something. “Well, all that’s irrelevant. She’s far more agreeable when she’s bound up and gagged. Listen - Just listen to that silence.” His fingers lift, dancing gently as if conducting.  After a moment he drops them, eyebrow lifting sharply. “Where’s your pet?”

[indiciummentis]

   Sherlock knows something is off when he first steps into the flat. The silence is deafening,  so deafening that he can smell the danger impregnating the wallpaper and each one of the seventeen steps leading up to the sitting room. He’s careful while he climbs upstairs,  though the creaking of the wood underneath his feet isn’t merciful. Green eyes settle on the criminal’s deep brown when they finally meet,  and a single shiver runs down Sherlock’s spine in his presence.  Rage. Pure rage bubbling up the pit of his stomach and spreading across his entire body. Raw,  primordial rage begging to be unleashed. 

   “What did you do to her?” is his question as soon as the snake mentions Mrs Hudson. The answer he gets is what he most dreads. The detective doesn’t miss any of Moriarty’s movements while he sits down and keeps talking. He’s attentive, vigilant,  he forgets to blink,  even. But then he knows,  deep down,   there’s only so much he can do to monitor him. With Moriarty around,  one has to expect the unexpected. 

   At the mention of John,  his blood runs cold. Sherlock tries to appear composed,  unbothered,  as he lifts up his chin and takes a few steps toward his rival. “John is at work.” A pause. “What do you want?” 

[leneemusing]

SOFT(ish) ANGST PROMPTS

“  i thought you were gone.  for good. ”

“  you left and—  i thought you weren’t coming back.  ”

“  i miss you.  i know i’m not supposed to,  but.  i just had to see you.  ”  

“  please don’t scare me like that again.  i can take a lot of things,  but not losing you.  ”

“  i can’t even take the very thought of you getting hurt.  ”

“  you could’ve gotten yourself killed! you could’ve— fuck!  you scared the shit outta me.  ” 

“  yes.  i am telling you what to do.  i’m telling you not to pull something like that again because—  ‘cause fucking hell.  i care about you.  okay? ”  

“  i found myself driving home and then.  well i was on my way here.  ‘cause i guess…you’re still my home.  ” 

“  please,  tell me why you’re upset.  tell me who did this?  ”

“  you don’t have to come over here and take care of me you know.  i can clean up my own messes.  ”

“  don’t talk.  just get the fuck over here and hold me.  ”

“  loving you is like having my heart just out in the world.  outside of my body walking around.  every time i see you hurting,  it kills me.  ”

“  i made you cry.  and i hate myself for that.  i swore i wouldn’t be one of the people who left you hurting.  ”

“  you really hurt me this time.  but i want to let go of that.  i really do want to forgive you i’m just scared you’ll hurt me again.  ”

“  i know you’re mad at me right now,  but i’m the one who’s here.  let me be here.  let me help.  you can be angry later.  ”

“  i’m here now.  i know i wasn’t before.  but i should’ve been.  and i’m not going anywhere.  i’m not gonna let that happen again.  ”

“  it’s time to come home now.  ”

“  that’s enough.  you’ve got your revenge.  let’s go.  ”

“  i know you’re hurting.  and i can’t fix that.  but i can refuse to let you hurt alone.  ”

“  i’m never letting go of you.  i missed you so fucking much.  ”

“  look at me,  you’re safe.  and you’re not alone.  and i’ll never let you be alone again.  you understand?  ”

“  i broke my promise to you once.  i’ll never do it again.  ”

“  i don’t need you to go white knighting and fix all this.  i just want you here.  with me.  that will make me feel better.  ”

“  just stay still and let me hold you.  ”

“  you don’t have to hide your tears.  let it out.  then we’ll move on,  together.  ”

“  i just.  needed to talk to you ‘cause.  somehow you always know what to say.  ”

“  don’t bury your feelings.  sadness.  hurt.  rage.  feel it.  acknowledge it so you can decide what you want to do with it.  not what it will do to you.  ”

“  i miss your smile.  and not that sad one you try to fool everyone with.  the real one.  the one you used to show me.  ”

“  come here.  i’m taking care of you tonight.  and you’re gonna let me.  ”  

1) our muses reunite after sender thought receiver was dead. 

2) our muses reunite after receiver thought sender was dead. 

3) sender shows up at receiver’s house drunk after they’ve broken up. 

4) receiver shows up at sender’s house drunk after they’ve broken up. 

5) our muses are on bad terms but reunite after one of them nearly dies. 

6) sender finds receiver crying and approaches,  clearing the tears with their hands while demanding to know what happened. 

7) receiver finds sender crying and approaches,  clearing the tears with their hands while demanding to know what happened. 

8) our muses haven’t been speaking,  but sender rushes to take care of receiver after they’ve been injured or fell ill. 

9) our muses haven’t been speaking,  but receiver rushes to take care of sender after they’ve been injured or fell ill. 

10) sender hurt receiver in some way,  which led to receiver doing something reckless and sender shows up to stop them/or deal with the aftermath. 

11) receiver hurt sender in some way,  which led to sender doing something reckless and receiver shows up to stop them/or deal with the aftermath.

12) our muses are in a fight,  but cuddle anyway because they don’t like sleeping alone. 

13) receiver wakes sender from a nightmare. 

14) sender wakes receiver from a nightmare. 

15) sender wakes up in the hospital and finds receiver at their side,  who is in the same clothes as the day they were admitted because they’ve refused to leave their side. 

16) receiver wakes up in the hospital and finds sender at their side,  who is in the same clothes as the day they were admitted because they’ve refused to leave their side. 

17) our muses are currently on the outs,  but receiver goes through something traumatic and sender pushes past their friends to get to them. 

18) our muses are currently on the outs,  but sender goes through something traumatic and receiver pushes past their friends to get to them. 

[indiciummentis]

❛  you came back !  ❜ ~ bakerstreetxregular

[ 50 𝘿𝙄𝘼𝙇𝙊𝙂𝙐𝙀 𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙈𝙋𝙏𝙎   ,   𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚃𝚆𝙾 . ]

"Heard you the first time," Sherlock waves his hand in the air as he stumbles into the sitting room with no little effort. He looks around for a moment, squinting his eyes as they adjust to the feeble yellow light dimly lighting the place. It's quiet. All too quiet. No John, for starters, which is always a tragedy. No Mrs Hudson ( she's out with Mrs Turner, he notices after a quick glance at the staircase ) and, oh, beautiful, the little kid is here. That would explain the talking, then.

Sherlock flops down into his armchair, limbs numb from the drug still circulating in his system. He sniffles, throwing his head back for a moment. It hurts. Brilliant. "Please be quick, I have better things to do as you can tell." Better things, as in shooting himself up to numbness, now that John isn't here. He's never going to be back, isn't he? He doesn't care.

[governmentofficial]

“You think about me? I’m touched.”

Meeting of Rivals Sentence Starters

Sherlock could be so irritatingly sardonic sometimes. Perhaps it was the duty of the younger brother to annoy the elder, but Mycroft did think that it was taken too far sometimes. Still, he loved him and he always would, even if the feeling was an incredibly well buried one at times.

With a roll of his eyes, he sat himself down in one of the armchairs in 221b - specifically, the one that he knew that Sherlock preferred to sit in. Was it a particularly polite move to make? Of course not, but - in Mycroft's mind, at least - his brother was the one that had started it with his sarcastic comments.

"Yes, well, you'll be grateful that I do, I should think. I have a case for you." A file was pulled from his briefcase, left on the side of the armchair for when Sherlock elected to pick it up and flick through it. "I can assure you that it is more interesting than anything else you have on offer right now. How lucky I am that murderous intents in the country seem to be currently utterly lacking in creativity."

[indiciummentis]

   The scoff that leaves Sherlock's lips is more dramatic than anything,  and it is particularly marked upon the sight of his elder brother sitting in his chair. Must he really choose that one,  every single bloody time? Of course he must. At the mention of a new case,  Sherlock's eyes sparkle for the briefest moment. He's quick to turn and mask his momentary excitement though  --  it's a reflex that he can't quite get rid of,  no matter how hard he tries around Mycroft.

   Sherlock turns on his heel,  facing the window. His hands are clasped behind his back,  and there’s a focused expression lingering upon his features as he gazes outside. It would be clear to anyone who even remotely knows him that he’s occupied with unraveling some kind of doubt clouding his thoughts. His face relaxes completely after a moment or two,  when he’s come to a conclusion. “You’re worried,” he simply states then,  not even bothering to turn around and meet his brother’s eyes. There are usually two reasons why Mycroft asks for his help. The first one is when he actually needs help,  though in that specific case he never pays him a visit first. The second one,  much more dreaded by the younger Holmes,  involves a courtesy visit at 221B in the attempt not to wind Sherlock up over his “subtle” offer. 

   “Once again brother dear, I am very touched by your concern,  but should I remind you that I am no longer a child who needs tending to? In fact,  I manage perfectly on my own.” 

[itsusxallysubtext]

❛  quick ! hide inside that wardrobe ! ❜ - ( Sherlock ) @indiciummentis

   John doesn’t even question Sherlock’s methods ANYMORE. Or well, generally speaking anyway. If the other had told him to jump off a cliff, then maybe he would have asked for some more details, but a wardrobe he could do, especially if not doing said thing would result in them getting caught.

   “Can you at least tell me WHY?” He then whispered, pulling the other man along with him and closing the door, leaving them both in complete darkness.

     “Did you hear anyone COME in?”

[indiciummentis]

    It’s quiet when John pulls him inside the wardrobe,  too quiet even. Not that it bothers him,  on the contrary,  it allows him to tend ear and be aware of what is happening outside of their little hiding spot. In fact, Sherlock did hear someone come,  and he was trying to buy some time to think of a backup plan to handle the situation and get some  ...  useful information out of it.  Sherlock turns so that he’s facing John,  and for a moment he’s taken aback by the closeness of their faces in that enclosed space.   RIGHT.

    “I need you to stay here and not say a word,  do you understand?” His voice sounds commanding even as he delivers those words in a feeble whisper,  while he tries to mask the surprise and the slight nervousness in his tone. It happens quite a lot when John is around, especially when they’re alone. Something to dwell upon when they’re both in a safer situation.

[mindblowingscience]

Ocean microbes produce oxygen in a way we have never seen before

Almost all of the oxygen on Earth is produced via photosynthesis, but now biologists have discovered a microbe that has its own way of generating the gas

A new way of producing oxygen has been discovered in microbes that live in the darkest depths of the ocean.

Most oxygen on Earth is produced via photosynthesis, which requires light. But Don Canfield at the University of Southern Denmark and his colleagues have identified a microbe that doesn’t photosynthesise but still generates oxygen.

The researchers made the discovery in their lab after studying various microbes that can live in the dark, low-oxygen settings of the deep ocean.

“We wanted to see the limit of oxygen concentration where [organisms] can still live,” says Canfield.

In the course of their investigations the researchers looked at an archaea called Nitrosopumilus maritimus that oxidises ammonia to produce nitrogen. Producing nitrogen requires oxygen, and the microbe often lives in oxygen-rich areas of the ocean. It can, however, also survive in dark regions of the ocean where there is little oxygen – something that has long puzzled scientists. “Nobody had any idea as to why they were there,” says Canfield.

Continue Reading.

[moviein]

I’m not involved.

[digivolvin]

pining is 100000% the most important aspect of pre-relationship fic for me. good-natured whole-hearted pining filled with lovelorn gazing and chest aching and fluttering touches, that’s my top priority. i was put on this earth to watch characters suffer over the profundity of their love for another person. unrequited love is why god made me. characters finding out that their feelings are reciprocated after long months/years of suffering is why the universe was assembled from nothingness. amen.