adoctorforthedetective-blog

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[[ I have thought long and hard about what to do regarding my roleplaying feelings and have decided to take a short break to get my muses back. I am still very much interested in the threads in my drafts so will reply when I'm back. I love you all. ]]

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[[ So I'm scared. I'm scared that I'm losing my muse(s). I'm scared that you'll all leave me. I'm scared that I'm annoying people by asking for threads. I'm scared that you'll all start losing interest in roleplaying with me because I'm always so slow. I'm scared that, because there are many more better roleplayers for my muse character(s), mine will start to fizzle.. I'm so scared and I don't know what to do.. :'c ]]

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[[ Going through a crappy patch at the moment.. Will try to get on with stuff tomorrow night/Friday/the weekend. Sorry. ]]

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((Do you ever get the feeling that some of your rp partners don't actually like you and that you are just pestering them?))

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[[ I have a few things to do at home before I come on here. But when I'm on, I plan to: - Complete drafts on John - Finish Molly's blog - Write some starters for both If anyone wants to thread with either of them, just let me know :) ]]

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[[ I'm off to bed now, but I'll reply to the few drafts (and any replies that come in overnight) tomorrow. :) 

In the meantime, you can follow Molly here! I started following the blogs that I follow on this account (minus the Molly's), but my internet concked out on me halfway through, so I'll follow the rest tomorrow too.

Anyway, for now, it's a fond "goodnight" from myself, John and Molly! <3 ]]

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[[ Shameless self promo.... Molly is here! :) ]]

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“Of course you did, I bet he loved that!” John whispered with a wide grin before they took their vows.

*

The ceremony, John was quite sad to say, went by in a blur of happiness. He could remember the overwhelming love he felt for Sherlock throughout it and feeling as though he was the pair were the only ones in the room. He remembered feeling pleasantly giddy at the thought of spending every single day for the rest of his life with the man that made him feel…alive. The man that he continued his days for; the one that he couldn’t imagine a life without.

John still couldn’t quite believe that everything he wished for had finally become reality. That he hand he was holding firmly in his own belonged to his husband. Yes – that sounded good. That sounded right. He literally felt as though he was born to be with Sherlock Holmes, that he was the soulmate he’d heard stories about; that Sherlock was that metaphorical puzzle piece in John’s life.

“May I have this dance?” He smiled warmly, taking a small step backwards and holding out a hand as the music for their first dance slowly filled the room.

Right Then; Into Battle

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Is that it?

Is that what?

We’ve just met, and we’re going to go and look at a flat.

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"Because that's just Molly, isn't it?" He shrugged with a small smile. "She'll be selfless and kind and sweet to everybody until the day she's in Bart's..." Was Sherlock avoiding him as best as the environment allowed? John couldn't say that he was overly upset about this - at least the other was giving him some space, and allowing him to think. 

Get the case out of the way, Watson.

"Yeah, ok," John nodded. "That would probably make sense. Though she may give us more information if you're there too. But it's up to you, of course..."

"I don’t understand why, though. That ridiculous little crush of hers has run it’s course; why is it she insists on being so… frustratingly sweet still?" Shaking his head, Sherlock tried to focus his attention on anything but John. The man was making him nervous, too, with the amount of anxious energy he was exuding.

"Perhaps it would be best if you take the lead in talking to her — maybe I’ll even stay outside of the morgue; it’ll be quicker, and you are the one taking lead on the case, after all."

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This means you are legal in the US and won’t have anyone else arrested for smutting with you if that is so.

So, just please reblog if you are.

RPers: Reblog if you are 18 or older

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John sat in his study going over medical files in preparation for surgery the next day when he heard the shattering of a mug in the kitchen. He rolled his eyes with a small smile – mugs were always being dropped and he was always joking about how clumsy Mary could sometimes be with things like that. However, his attention was quickly snatched from the reports as he heard his wife cry out.

Something was wrong.

He leapt up from his chair, sending the file tumbling to the floor, and rushed into the kitchen. He was by Mary’s side in seconds; helping support her whilst rubbing her back soothingly.

“Mary, what’s wrong? Is everything alri— Oh my god, it’s started, hasn’t it?” He inhaled deeply to calm himself – panicking would not help his wife – and moved quickly to the dining table, pulling out a chair before guiding her over to it.

“Sit down, love, and I’ll call an ambulance. It’s going to be alright, I promise.” He placed a loving kiss on her forehead and fished out his mobile phone from his pocket, dialling 999.

She’d been in the kitchen, making a cup of tea when she’d felt the sudden burst of pain at the back of her spine, a white-hot, searing pain that wrapped forward around her abdomen. The empty mug in her hand dropped and shattered across the floor, fingers flying to splay out across her abdomen.

It was still early - she had another two weeks.

Panic flared in Mary’s chest as she tried to rationalize that she was fine. That the baby was fine. Early labour was common for first time mothers, the nurse part in her brain took over, reciting. Breathing evenly, she began to calm herself to the best of her abilities.

Everything was fine. 

Inhaling sharply as another near crippling pain shot through her, she waited for it to pass for a moment.

"Impatient, just like your dad." She murmured, rubbing her hand across the swell of her abdomen as she leaned against the counter, not quite trusting herself to walk on steady legs for a moment. That had been one hell of a contraction. But it was normal, Mary told herself. She was fine. But she needed to keep calm - because her husband likely wasn’t going to. 

However, there was no doubt of it. Mary was in the early stage of labour, and there was no turning back.

“John!”

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“A consulting detective?” John repeated quizzically. “I’ve never heard of that. Although, I suppose I wouldn’t have if you’re the only one, I guess…” John babbled. His mind wasn’t in the conversation – it was rapidly trying to place his new flatmate’s name. Sherlock Holmes… Sherlock Holmes… Sherl—

No…

It couldn’t be…

It all suddenly became extremely clear to John why he had been directed to this particular flat by Mike Stamford. Why he was so eager for John to take it – why it was “just perfect” for him.

But, looking around, there were no obvious signs that Sherlock was one of them, and he hated himself for accusing him so quickly. However, John couldn’t see how he’d recognise the name otherwise. Also, why was Mike so eager to flat-share with the man? He decided to just act normal around Sherlock for now, until he’d gathered more…evidence than just a familiar name, at least.

“So, uh, fancy grabbing something to eat?” That was normal, right?

Seeing Signs - Vampire Hunter AU

    {☣}— “I’m a consulting detective,” Sherlock responded, his drawl bored and disinterested. “The only one in the world, I invented the job.” The doctor was cautious, as though he had heard Sherlock’s name before. It made Sherlock look him over, taking in every detail. It all screamed military, of course, but no mere military man would be cautious at Sherlock’s name.            Second glances told quite a lot about a person,and from the way John spoke, it made Sherlock feel as though he may have a slight situation on his hands. It would be quite annoying if his new flatmate turned out to be a hunter.             True, Sherlock had not actually killed anyone in quite a long time. The last time he ever killed, he was a young fledgling, unable to control his abilities or predatory urges. But that was centuries ago, and he merely continued on, integrating himself into the changing world. He was one of the lucky ones - his entire family had been turned at once, and therefore, keeping the familial ties that one expected in today’s society was fixed for him. His brother had been able to secure a position in government which allowed him to rewrite documentation of the family, of course, making no one the wiser.               Except their names would, of course, strike a core with any hunters versed in their Vampiric history. And it seemed that John Watson was one of them. —{☣}

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John relaxed a bit more at Sherlock’s reassurance that things were fine. He was glad that Sherlock was smiling and showing happiness in a situation that he seldom found himself in and it was John that was making him relaxed. Making him happy. The doctor felt quite overwhelmed at this, but tried not to let it show.

John smiled fondly when Sherlock began to ramble slightly about the act of flirting. This was one of the many things that John loved about the detective – he loved to listen to him when he went into his own monologues; telling John extreme amounts of detail about cases, or when he was musing aloud. Those moments allowed John a rare insight into the wonderful minds of Sherlock Holmes, and it was happening again.

A sudden question snatched John from his admiring thoughts about the other. He cocked an eyebrow at it. “Are you sure?” He then grinned again, imagining the pair nervously flirting with each other throughout the night – each attempt more…cheesy than the next.

“If you want to,” John nodded; his expression warm. “Sure. I’d- I’d like that.”

First Date [Closed]

Sherlock’s face lit up in surprise for a second at John’s apology, and then his face relaxed into a comfortable smile. He turned his palm up and gently stroked John’s wrist, attempting to cal him. “No, John, it’s — truly, it’s really very fine. I don’t mind it. Of course it’s not uncomfortable to me, just a wink. I’m just…just asking.” He promised him.

John was just so comfortable with all of this dating business. Sherlock had hazarded a guess to how many women he had dated before — written several monographs about it, in fact — but he didn’t have a definitive answer. Whatever it was, though, it was a number that made John ultimately comfortable with first dates. Sherlock fancied himself a bit different than the women John had dated, but the point still stood. This was an area where John knew more — and would always know more — than Sherlock.

"Flirting. An odd practice, in itself. There’s a horrendously blurred line between jesting and true flirting, actually. I’ve never particularly dabbled in it, myself. Witty naturally by nature, I’m afraid, and that can occasionally be misconstrued as….as flirting. But to do it purposefully, with an end goal in mind? No, no. Can’t say that I ever tried." Sherlock commented, his voice wavering a little. 

Sherlock’s defining trait in his nervousness was his ability to ramble. Blinking, he took a sip of the wine and then swallowed. Well, then.

"Would you like me to try flirting with you?"

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Listen, what I said before John, I meant it. I don’t have friends; I’ve just got one.