thesherlockexperiment

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Reblog to renew your TJLC Vows:

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I’m tired.

Ooooooooooook.

..sure..

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Oh god, why!?

I don’t know how many people has seen this but in the bottom left corner, it says  ｓｌｏｗ ｂｕｒｎ

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The Sherlock Experiment turned 3 today! And it’s weird! I (the host) have come out as trans and the show is off the rails. I’m still paying for it to be on air, because I don’t want to let it go. I just wish Sherlock comes out with a 5th season so we can reunite the gang :)

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So this past Thanksgiving, I’m on the couch with my cousin and we’re watching Sherlock on my phone together while we’re eating turkey. My cousin is like 7 but she’s perceptive for her age so I knew she’d enjoy the show.

So we’re watching the first episode and then THIS fucking scene comes on:

And my cousin legit just BURIES her head in my chest like she’s trying not to watch it and I’m like, huh?

So I say to her, “why are you covering your eyes?”

And that’s when she says,

“Mommy said to cover your eyes when two people in a movie are about to kiss.”

I laughed so hard that I dropped my phone on her head and she cried.

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I NEED YOUR HELP!

So, I’ve paid for another year for the podcast broadband but there are no new episodes coming out. What I want to do is to create a whole new season of the Sherlock Experiment with some folks from the TJLC community. Please get in touch if you want to be in on this :)

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That’s a move that says “dick me up” if I ever saw one ☝🏻

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“We don’t know when or if this item will be back in stock.”

That’s exactly what they say in between seasons

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There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in the whole of this baffling case, and quite frankly it was the usual. John Watson - who, while I was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life. 

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Thanx Netflix

YEAH I WISH

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What fresh hell is this?

soooo how about that play moff was writing

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“Abstinence is not immortality.”

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When they first started sharing a bed it used to startle John into alert wakefulness on the evenings when Sherlock would crawl under the covers in the middle of the night, long after John had gone to sleep.  The heavy comforter would move, Sherlock’s arm would brush against him, and John’s heart would kick into high gear, his eyes snapping open and his hand flinging itself out for a gun that wasn’t there because he’d had the good sense to leave it upstairs.  Sherlock had handled it surprisingly well after his initial surprise; he’d simply lowered himself, slowly and carefully, until he was laying down, not touching John except for one hand that curled loosely around his bicep, and murmured “Breathe, John.  You’re safe.  Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

John couldn’t bring himself to say that it wasn’t images of himself being hurt that frightened him.  He’d focus on the warmth of Sherlock beside him and the gentle pressure of his hand–comforting but not restraining–and simply breathe until he felt like he could move again.  Then he’d turn and pull Sherlock against him, press his nose into the soft curve of his neck, and focus on the feeling of his heartbeat against his lips until he fell back to sleep.  When he woke he’d always find that Sherlock had shifted until his back was pressed to John’s chest, John’s arm curled protectively around his waist, his forehead hot against the back of Sherlock’s neck.

It went on like this for two months.  Then, one night, Sherlock slipped into the bed a little after midnight, and John didn’t startle awake, didn’t stop breathing.  He did wake, but it was gentle, easy.  His eyes opened blearily as the bed dipped, and he felt Sherlock go still, waiting for the inevitable alarm to go off in John’s head.  But John only shifted like someone who’s still half-asleep, only turned enough so that Sherlock could settle back against him just the way John knew he liked, his fingers threading through John’s where he held his hand against his chest so that John could feel his heart, a steady thrum against his palm.

“I never would’ve pegged you for the little spoon, you know,” he said, his voice rough with sleep.  He tightened his arm and brushed his lips against Sherlock’s bare shoulder.  “S’good, though.”

“Mm, you let my physical appearance cloud your judgment,” Sherlock said, and John could feel the vibration of his words, pressed together as they were.  “You assumed that just because I am the taller of the two of us that I would prefer to be the ‘big spoon,’ as you say.”

John couldn’t help a small huff of laughter.  The idea of hearing Sherlock Holmes talk about spooning would’ve been unthinkable a mere few months ago.

“Besides,” Sherlock went on, “it suits us both.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.  You find comfort in being able to surround me, in the feeling that you’re keeping me safe.”

It wasn’t surprising that Sherlock had figured that one out.  Pretty obvious, really.  He’d probably deduced it that first night even when John was too much of a wreck from his own fears to put it into words.

He kissed Sherlock’s neck, speaking against his skin.  “And you?“

“I’ve never liked being confined or restrained.  I’m sure that’s a surprise to you,” he said dryly, and John laughed.  Then Sherlock’s voice softened, and his hand tightened around John’s.  “But then I met you, and you surrounded my entire life, and I discovered that I didn’t mind the way you invaded my every thought, my every action.  I spent years wanting to be confined in your arms the way I was confined in my absolute affection for you.  And now I finally can be.  So.  That’s how it suits me.”

John swallowed thickly.  “There’s another thing I never would’ve guessed about you.”

“What’s that?”

He tugged gently at Sherlock’s hip until he turned so that John could kiss him.  “You’re a bloody romantic.”

He could feel Sherlock’s smile curve against his lips.  “Only for you.”

“Mm, let’s keep it that way.”

Sherlock’s answer was soft, barely murmured into the infinitesimal space between their mouths.  “Forever.”

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“It says everything about their relationship. It says what the bond is and the care is, and it’s everything they don’t say to each other but [John]’s allowed to say, thinking that [Sherlock]’s not there. That’s where, as a romance, it’s an incredibly British affair. There’s an awful lot of beautifully understated subtlety and nuance to it.” —Benedict Cumberbatch (ASiB DVD commentary)

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“Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator.”