#refreshedlipstick

[i-am-hamishwatsonholmes]

+ refreshed-lipstick

"Hey, Molly --"

"-- Uhm -- sorry to bother you -- but have you seen my father around? He's not answering his phone and dad's out of town. I -- err... I forgot my keys..."

[donotappalmewhenimhigh]

OOC: ROLE PLAY FREEZE!

It is time we got decent rest but it is fantastic now so resume tomorrow!!

[donotappalmewhenimhigh]

After the Kiss

Sherlock Left 221B and just started walking his mind was reeling he had to get away somewhere he had to sort out these thoughts. He had kissed John. John Watson. It wasn’t that he hadn’t liked it, he definitely had but well he didn’t know what to do now. Sherlock had kissed very few people in his life and rarely did he have to go back to face them. What would he say? How dis John feel? There were too many unknowns Sherlock felt like his head was going to explode. Suddenly Sherlock found himself standing outside of a dirty run down building, it was a good 40 minute walk from the flat so he wasn’t entirely sure how he had ended up there. Sherlock went inside his head still reeling from the night’s events but one more thought had entered the mix. Morphine. Sherlock paused opened the old rusted door and slowly stepped inside. “Shezza!” he was greeted by Billy he didn’t care, he was unsure he could even form a coherent sentence. Billy, I need morphine, no catch up’s no questions just morphine. I will explain later, just not now. However what came out was “ Billy, Morphine, Now.” He saw the puzzled look on the boys face but it did not last for long he simply walked out of the room. Sherlock leaned up against the wall an allowed his body to slide down slowly pulling his knees up to his chest. When he made contact with the cool, dusty ground he pushed his hands against his ears, he needed to control these thoughts. The room was too bright, his head was splitting in half, and there was too much noise. Sherlock thought that he might scream. Suddenly Billy re-emerged with a syringe in his hand. Sherlock pulled off his jacket and took the syringe from Billy. He held it as if it was some precious object that he had to protect. To Sherlock this was very close to the truth, this was his lifeline. This was how he would have the courage to get up and face John the next day, How he could sort out his feelings towards Irene Adler. Sherlock frantically rolled up his shirt sleeve and without the aid of a makeshift tourniquet he found a vein and let the glorious liquid seep into his vein. It wasn’t long before Sherlock felt the affects. Sweet silence. Sherlock stood up and ignoring Billy and his Jacket entirely he wandered in a drug-induced haze to a sofa and let the silence slowly pull him into the realms of sleep.

(OOC- Sorry if there are errors I wrote in a hurry) 

[diglestrade]

refreshed-lipstick replied to your post “//Is there a Molly rp blog that would be willing to send me their gif...”

// I have some posts liked of a bunch of Molly GIFS if you fancy having those

Yes please!

[thewaywardsonofgallifrey]

-casually flails over the Kuzco things cause I fucking love that movie-

*Joins you in flailing*  It’s one of the best movies ever.  Also one of the ones you can watch over and over (And over and over) and not get tired of it ^_^

[catscoffeeandbodies-blog-deacti]

Molly had arrived home rather distraught after the days events. Granted Lazarus was in full effect. Her having chucked a corpse dressed as Sherlock out the second floor window of Bart’s. Helping Sherlock out with last good byes that seemed far to quick. There was no way of knowing when he’d return. Of course he couldn’t run the risk of writing or staying in contact somehow. So as one chapter ended it seemed another would begin. One without Sherlock Holmes in her life. Perhaps it was for the better. Give her time to move on, get over him. Focus her attention someplace else. Perhaps the detective inspector she had been sharing her flat with.

It seemed silly really. She’d always have feelings for Sherlock. Sometimes she thought he was the only who truly understood her. But Greg was something else. Being there for her, sharing meals and coffees and laughs. As she thought about him on her way home that night a smile graced her lips and a sudden fluttering sensation worked it’s way through her heart and stomach. So when she finally arrived home, eyes puffy and red from the loss of a great friend she knew Greg would be there for her. And she would be there for him as well.

It was safe to say she was rather surprised to see that silver haired fox when she unlocked the flat door, Toby instantly coming to her feet, mewling for food. He wasn’t dead but to everyone other than her and Mycroft Sherlock Holmes was dead.

The thought shot through her mind, racing and coursing through her blood. One look to Greg and tears welled up in her eyes as she broke down into a sobbing fit, hand against her lips as she sat down upon the sofa. “He—he’s gone Greg. Sherlock is gone…”

[diglestrade]

He was dead.

It sounded so unrealistic that it didn't quite compute. Sherlock couldn't be dead. Not like this. Not from suicide. Strangulation would seem more fitting. But not this.

The news had reached him when he was still at the Yard earlier that afternoon. The TV had been on at a low volume when Sally had suddenly exclaimed: 'He's dead?'. Greg had turned to look at her, watching her stare at the TV before looking over as well, sawing the headlines, a reporter standing in front of St. Bart's. No, that couldn't be true.

He had left at once for the hospital, finding John there, distraught and in shock. He had ordered a police car to take John home, and he had remained on the scene, doing his work and asking for witnesses, people involved, etc. He had been about to go and see Molly, when the chief super intendant and Sally had arrived, ordering him to go home as well and that it would be handle by another team. This wasn't murder after all. This was suicide.

Reluctantly, he had gone home, sinking down on the sofa without even taking his coat off. He felt numb, but his brain was buzzing with thoughts.

And regrets.

He hadn't moved for a while when he heard the front door open, and he looked up to see Molly enter the flat, breaking down at once as soon as she saw him. He got up at once, ushering her to the sofa and sat down beside her, one hand on her shoulder. He wasn't able to speak, her grieve only a fraction of what he felt like right now.

He'd done this. He, Sally and Anderson. They had done this. If he had stood behind Sherlock -- if he had believed him -- things could have been different.

[stalkspreyinthenight-blog]

+ inthehiddenminds + thetwinmoriarty + severin-moran + refreshedlipstick

It had been a terribly long month. Being sent to America, of all places. With their accent and their overwhelming egos, good Lord. He almost preferred Russia. So, it really wasn't the best time to come into contact with another human being, not until at least his seventh cup of good British tea.

However, it was rather hard passing one standing directly on your doorstep.

Did you mind, love, it was raining.

Oh.

"Hello you."

[col-sebastian]

Sebastian & Molly

Visiting Jim at the hospital while he played the role of Jim Zucco was hardly Sebastian’s idea of fun but Jim insisted, said it helped to keep the boredom at bay.

Sebastian was just leaving, walking past the canteen with his attention on his phone instead of where he was going. He pushed open the double doors in front of him, not noticing until it was too late that there was a woman on the other side, the door had knocked her sending a pile of books flying all over the floor, he cursed silently “oh god I am sorry" he put his phone away and moved to help pick up the books.