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Reblog if your muse has ever committed a crime.

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together and apart: one of the many fascinating things about a scandal in belgravia is the “choreography” between irene adler and sherlock holmes. in all their scenes, they are engaged in a dance — stepping forward, pulling back, going past, turning, following, encircling — locked in each other’s orbit, yet refusing to be bogged down by gravity. it’s an indication of what they are (mirrors), what they could be (partners), and what they can never have (constancy).

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☀ you are a ray of sunshine! Send this to 8 people that deserve it and make sure you don't break the chain!

but i hate you what the hell? jk i love u thanks for this xx

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Impromptu visits. It was a habit of hers, showing unexpected in his flat. No warnings, no texts. It was a clear game of hide and seek, one that she enjoyed quite a lot. Seeing the look on his face of slight surprise; him, trying his best not to fidget at her presence. Such an amusement, it was. It was one of those days, boredom crept every inch of her body. Routinely hiding out to avoid trouble was getting rather dull. But it was all carefully planned, her little outings to 221B.

So there she stood, in the threshold of the flat. And there he stood, in the middle of the room, completely oblivious by her presence. It was rather endearing how he swayed from side to side to the music. It was a surprise, really, to see this side that he clearly locked up from the rest of the world. The music too loud for him to register her closing the door, too loud to listen to her footsteps approaching from behind. Would be register her perfume? The slight smell of roses?

He turned, though, to her luck his eyes were kept shut as he danced. The sweetest of smiles crept through her lips at the scene. But there was only so much she could control and the impulse to grab his hand and lock her body with his in an intimate fashion came as quick as her heartbeats. “I didn’t expect you to be the dancing type. I must say, I’m pleasantly surprised, Mr. Holmes.”

Sherlock stood in the middle of the living room in 221B Baker Street, classical music playing from the bluetooth speaker he had his phone connected to. There was no wedding he had to prepare himself for or any real reason for him to be dancing, it was just something he chose to do to cure his boredom when no one else was home. John was at work and Mrs. Hudson had taken Rosie out for some sort of play date. Whatever the hell that was. With no one home, he didn’t have to risk the awkward interaction that would no doubt come from someone walking in on him. He held his hands up in the air just before him, his feet moving from side to side as he matched his steps to the beat of the song playing through the speakers.

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all the ways you wish you could be, that’s me

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this is a very serious blog

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“Ooh, the posh boy loves the dominatrix…”

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in a whisper they said: i remember. i remember.— drifting // (h.q.)

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He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and  observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They were admirable  things for the observer–excellent for drawing the veil from men’s motives and actions. But for the trained reasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament  was to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not be more  disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his. And yet there was but one woman to him, and that woman was the late Irene Adler, of dubious and questionable memory.

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I’ve always assumed that love is a  d a n g e r o u s   d i s a d v a n t a g e.

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( (    N o w  I  k n o w  s h e ’ l l  n e v e r  l e a v e  m e E v e n  a s  s h e  f a d e s  f r o m  v i e w    ) )

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mycroft: *on the phone* sherlock, what are you doing?

sherlock: experiments

irene: *takes the phone from sherlock* i'm experiments

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“Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side”

[insp] [source]