#itsshortforharriet

[sirheisenberg]

Mick Rawson - Criminal Minds: Suspect Behaviour. 

[andrew-livingston-blog]

+itsshortforharriet

Ever since Andrew's favorite cafe had shut down, he had to look for a new place to get some work done after classes got out. He had found that grading never really got done when he was in his apartment; too many distractions. TV, books, Internet, TV, Internet...

Anyway, he had heard from one of his coworkers that the little bakery situated two blocks south from the school was quite fantastic. He decided to take a walk in that direction after classes. 

Andrew was pleasantly surprised when he finally arrived. The atmosphere was nice, and the smell was fantastic, of course. He took a look around, finding so many tempting treats. Walking up to the counter, he retrieved his wallet from his satchel. "Good afternoon." He greeted the woman behind the counter with a grin.

[theandersonano-blog]

itsshortforharriet replied to your post: that one is personal and rlly flattering that one is super good, i bet she’d like that one best of all.

Anderson. I cannot marry you, I have a boyfriend.

yes

me

[helloim-sexy]

Harry! It's adventure time! (@itsshortforharriet)

Sexy rushes to Harriet's flat and knocks on the door, excited for another fun adventure to go on. 

[puckishsprite]

itsshortforharriet replied to your post: ★?

Harriet blushed, hesitating a moment before returning the kiss softly, her hands came up to rest on Puck’s chest. Eventually she pulled away and blushed, biting her lip softly. “That was nice.” She said softly- always unsure how to act after a kiss.

"Nice?" Puck asked, offering her a sharp-toothed grin. "I shall have to do better than that."

[thesciencefictionofdeductio-blog]

Sister, Don't Test The Ones You Love | Harriet & Sherlock

Smiling, satisfied, Sherlock set the silver scalpel neatly on the table. He eyed the project that had somehow started on the kitchen counter and had expanded over essentially every available surface in the room - and even ones that weren't available. Though he thought that excusable, since the homework he took home with him from the morgue had allowed him to dissect the entire case and essentially prove that not only had it been murder, but it had been the Gardener - whom the police had already ruled out. 

He sighed, leaning back in the chair he had perched himself in, and proceeded to whip off the bloodied, chemical-coated latex gloves which catapulted across the room. He stood, finally and slouched across the room snatching a phone off the side on his way to the couch, presumably his - he didn't care. As he flopped down on the chair, a swift text was sent to Lestrade explaining the details so as they could take the gardener in for questioning. He dropped the phone on the floor as he lay sprawled out and his hand went limp.

And he was already bored. The satisfaction was so brief. He needed another puzzle.

He rolled onto his back an started calling for John, not even certain who was in the flat, but his deep voice barrelled through the walls. 

[theandersonano-blog]

It doesn't count as a kidnapping if she enjoys it.

Anderson was dressed in what he felt was appropriate for inconspicuously following a woman to Israel. This included jeans pulled down far enough to show his dinosaur underwear, black biker boots, a leather jacket two sizes too big for him, giant ladies sunglasses and a pink silk scarf wrapped around his head - he had hoped that if she began to recognise him, the feminine touch would put her off the trail.

He couldn't wait for his romantic getaway to begin.

After all. It wouldn't count as a kidnapping if she enjoyed it.

[thedevilsblogger]

So you think you can tell, heaven from hell.

He kept waiting. And waiting. He waited outside of that waiting room for a long time to have news released that Sherlock had died in a drug-induced overdose. He never had the chance to say goodbye, or sorry. That's what hurt the most for John Watson. Not apologizing for his own stupidity. Now his best friend was dead, and it was probably his own god damn fault. Jesus Watson. You lost the man who promised forever because of your own stupidity, He cursed himself silently, choking back tears, only to be comforted by Greg and Anderson. God, Anderson was comforting him. Sally stood at the other end of the room, trying to console Mrs. Hudson, and Molly too, where as Mycroft stood silent, not saying a word, trying to figure out how he'd explain to his not overly caring father that his younger son was dead, this time for good too. The coroner came out, talking about how much heroin and cocaine Sherlock had overdosed on. John was too lost in a world that he had to know for three solid years. It was like solitary confinement, a world without Sherlock.

Weeks past, John received more sympathy. Harry, Alphonse, Sylar, Giselle, Jane Foster, Phil Coulson, The Doctor (different versions too), Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers, Callum. John was actually surprised one day when he found his separated husband show up at his flat, with a suitcase in hand. They had an extremely awkward hug, and John offered him inside. He didn't know how long Clint stayed but after a while, Clint himself, left. Everyone does, don't they?

After about two weeks, on a windy and cold day, Sherlock was reburied in his grave, this time adding "loved by many, mostly by his best friend and his blogger". John attended the funeral with many, even Tony Stark, came uninvited. Greg kept a grip on John's shoulder, squeezing every once in a while, just for reassurance that he wasn't alone.

But no matter how many people were around him, he still felt very alone. He kept feeling as though he should of had someone stand right beside him, but in all reality, the only person he should of had, was dead.

He lived alone for six months. Six months of solitary, only having Greg stop by every once so often, with groceries. Once, Greg left 221B, bought a sketch pad and a felt pen and wrote "MYCROFT WE NEED TO TALK".

John, whenever he would go out, would walk by little places, with guns, a drug store, a bridge. He didn't want to go on anymore. No one would miss him. No one cared. Harriet would inherit everything, and she would go on to live a happy and brother-free life.

One day, John have had quite enough of people tip-toeing around him, so where did he go? To St. Bart's Roof Top of course. This time he would be the one jumping, and not the victim who was also the bystander. No, night had fallen and no one walked down that street too often during the winter to begin with. He stepped onto the ledge, took a quick breathe, and stepped forward.

There was a white flash, then no more.

"Welcome home, John." The deep baritone welcomed him, when he opened his eyes. Together, hand in hand, they walked into heaven together.

Then death took the third brother hand in hand, and they parted ways.

The End.

[confessionsoftherpers-blog]

Roguehunteralphonse is one of the best OC's I've ever seen. Alphonse's character is creative, unique, and well thought out. I love roleplaying with him. His backstory and his personality are so thorough and so coherent. Definitely one of my favorite characters to role play with. On top of all that I definitely enjoy talking with the mun, who is one of the most awesome people on tumblr

— itsshortforharriet

[thedevilsblogger]

Harry, what am I supposed to do? // itsshortforharriet

John came back to 221B, with milk and all, and noticed his sister stand in the kitchen. He was wondering what was so important, that he had to come from the other side of London just so she could talk to him. He really didn't know. Would he question his sister's intentions? Nope. He came into the flat, with a bag of jam, butter, and carried the milk in the other arm. "Harry, I was on the other side of London-"

[getonwithoutmyguy-blog]

+itsshortforharriet

"Harriet Watson."

[andrew-livingston-blog]

@itsshortforharriet

OOC things:

I'm only doing tumblr post because it's easier. Call me lazy, because I am. xD Tumblr ask does suck, yes. So this is a better idea. So, I suppose we should begin with trying to figure out where the Andrew/Harriet thing is ultimately headed. Mainly because I know that was my downfall as Darcy, because I had no idea what the endgame was going to be.

So yes.

[askhipsterbobama-blog]

itsshortforharriet started following you

harry watson

im going to your wedding 

im not giving you a gift

[leylaphoenix]

OOC

sorry for not replying guyssss, but lately I haven't been in the mood. After all these stressy weeks my life just feels like.. a mess. You can't believe how many things have happened in such a short amount of time, and I'm just overwhelmed by it all. I didn't really have the time to let everything sink in, and now that it's all over I just feel like doing nothing... or more like, everyday I think "oh I could do this and this today, now I finally have time" but then I just end up doing nothing at all, and I still feel so confused because of all the stuff that happened xD I'm so useless sometimes @_@ HOWEVER. I'm not really sure how long this small hiatus is going to persist, I really hope I'll get the motivation for roleplaying again soon. But I'm just letting you know that I'm not dead xD

People I owe paras to: Alan, Irene, Harriet, Moriarty I'm sorry guys OTL;;;

[thedevilsblogger]

Home of the Blues // Harriet and John

[text] Harriet, I need you.

[text] Like, you needed me for your major break up with your first boyfriend.

[text] Well guess what.

[text] Sherlock and I broke up. 

[text] I'm coming to your place tonight.

John sent the texts in the cab, tears running down his face. He was previously a solider, so he didn't understand why he was so upset over such a minor thing, especially after seeing people being blown up, close friends dying, and everything. So why was John Hamish Watson so upset over something so.. considerably minor? Simple, his heart broke for the second time in three and a half years and he didn't know if it would ever mend. He knew that it was probably a horrible choice to go to his younger sister's when she was probably with her boyfriend, but who else could he go to? Lestrade? No. Mycroft was a definite no. 

So he pulled up to her apartment and hit the intercom. "Harriet? It's John."