OOC:
Oh Wow.
I’d forgotten completely about this blog! I am so sorry you guys!!!
Sherlock is on PBS right now and all the Irene made me think about it!
(Source: crusher-for-justice, via survivingreichenbach)
#sherlock #Sherlock Holmes #Lestrade #Harry Potter #dark mark
greg’s just like
mmmmmmmmmm
/\ I Think that Gif Fits Molly’s reaction Better /\
MANLY SQUEEEEEEEEEE
Ooc: This is beautiful. Purely beautiful. Greg’s face. BAFTA worthy.
(Source: gleekstarkidwithglaminthemcrmy, via survivingreichenbach)
The beginning and end of John Watson.
Holy….
All. the. cries……….
and here it is
Oh…
…hello tears where did you come from.
FUCK YOU OMG
just let me float adrift in this ocean of despair
(via survivingreichenbach)
#FANDOM YOU NEED TO STOP #ASDLFKJAKDSJFASDFSDF #sherlock #trf
A Scandal at Fino
Irene glanced down at her phone again. 7:56. She’s not late yet. But why couldn’t she just be early? That would make everything easier. Irene had almost hoped that when she showed up at the restaurant 30 minutes early she’d find Harry sitting at the booth she had reserved for them, waiting patiently for Irene to bless her with her presence. At least that’s what people usually did for Irene Adler. They waited for her presence to be known. But no no no. Harry Watson wasn’t like that.
Irene needed Harry Watson. Irene needed Harry to bless her with her presence. Irene needed to not be the center of attention in the room. She needed to have something more important in her life. She didn’t want to be the center of her own universe anymore. She wanted Harry to be the center of her universe. She thought about Harry all the time. Over the past few weeks she’d been to Shanghai, Milan, New York, and all the way back to London, and the only thing she could think about was what Harry was doing. Who was Harry with? Was she seeing someone else? It wasn’t as if they were seeing each other exclusively. They weren’t even really seeing each other. They had met once. They had had sex once. Well, the number of times could be debated. But it was only on one occasion.
She wanted it to be more than that. Irene wasn’t the type of woman to have “relationships”. The closest she had ever come was at least over five years ago. And that engagement had ended badly. But with Harry, things were different. It was almost worth the bother. Irene had even stopped Dominating for the time being. It just seemed wrong knowing that Harry was somewhere in the world. Even if she was fucking someone else.
Irene glanced back down at her phone. 7:59. She sighed, crossing her legs and smoothing out the lace on her dress. It had taken her forever to get ready for tonight, given the circumstances of the questions she was planning on asking. She had finally settled on a simple lace white number, with tiny diamonds flowering across her chest and back, and a slit up the front that ended just below her underwear line. She picked out simple white heels and adorned it all with diamond earrings. She had left her hair down.
Irene never left her hair down.
Ever.
For anyone.
Moments later soft foot steps could be heard approaching the table. Irene flung herself back, attempting to strike a very bored, lounging pose, and not entirely succeeding. When she saw Harry she stopped breathing. She could feel her mouth fall open, her tongue suddenly becoming overly moist. She looked fucking beautiful. She slipped into the booth next to Irene, a teasing smile on her face, and kissed her on the shoulder.
Irene sat there for a moment, not really knowing what to do. Harry was sitting there, right next to her, the most beautiful smile on her face, and Irene had no idea what to do. She pulled herself together and managed to smile back, retreating slightly away from where Harry’s body was. Irene had felt a soft twinge in her stomach the moment Harry’s body touched hers.
No. They were going to get through this dinner. They were going to talk about this. Irene was going to do this.
Irene was going to ask Harry to be hers. It was going to happen.
It really did amaze Harry how pristine and downright stunning Irene always managed to look. She had a dress, it seemed, for every occasion. Make-up and nails to match, always the most stunning shoes. Harry had it on very good authority though, that the poised beauty belonged entirely to Irene herself, and not to the outfits she wore. She had seen Irene naked, after all. The dresses were simply a pretty complement to a natural beauty. Something akin to putting a diamond in a decorative box.
She had to laugh at the idea of Irene as a diamond. It suited her. She told Irene as much with a blush, embarrassed the she could sound so cheesy. Watson family trait #23.When the waiter came to take their drink orders, Harry took the initiative to order Vouvray for the both of them. A full bottle. She felt a twinge of guilt, but one bottle split between them wouldn’t be enough to turn her into an idiot.
“There’s no point in having only one glass of this,” she confided to Irene, as if she were talking about some national secret. Vouvray was light and sweet; an inappropriate wine for an evening dinner. But Harry liked it’s refreshing appeal, and felt that in a way, it sort of complemented…whatever it was between Irene and herself. Attraction, most certainly. A great deal of attraction. And definitely an abandon of conventional dating etiquette. She rarely committed so rashly and so thoroughly to something like this, to someone like Irene. She never did, in fact. Except for now. It was…refreshing.Yes, the Vouvray was exactly what they needed to be drinking.
The waiter brought their glasses, skillfully opened the bottle of wine, and poured their first drinks for them. Harry swirled the wine in its glass and let it air, her free hand coming to rest lightly across Irene’s thigh. The nervousness of their first meeting was all but completely gone, tonight.
“So. You were going to tell me about your trip~”
Irene wrapped her fingers around the stem of her wine glass as Harry’s free hand somehow found it’s way to her thigh. Irene stifled a sigh, not allowing her body to give into the woman like she wanted to. Composure. Keep your composure, she kept thinking to herself over and over again.
“So, you were going to tell me about your trip?” Harry’s velvety voice asked, her eyes looking right into Irene’s. Irene stumbled over her words a bit, mumbling out some rubbish about fashion meetings and boring dinners with designers. All the while she was having trouble keeping things straight in her mind. How would be a good way to ask this? she wondered to herself.
Just suck it up and do it she told herself, finally just forcing the words out.
She turned to Harry, removing the hand that was resting on her thigh and holding it in her own.
“Harry. I…. I like spending time with you. I like you. And I want to like you in a public way. More public than this,” she said motioning to the detached crowd around them. “There’s this party. It’s kindof a get together with the best of the best of the fashion world. Just a little thing. It’s being held in France this year. Of course, I have been asked to make an appearance. And I would rather enjoy it if you’d consider…… coming with me?”
Distilled from Spice and Fire: A Scandal at Fino
Harry was dressed to the nines.
She felt at once both vaguely uncomfortable and exceedingly sexy. The dress she wore was a dark heather-gray, strapped across the front of her chest and hips with sleek black bands. Her shoes were quite possibly the only stilettos she’d ever owned in her life; they…
Irene glanced down at her phone again. 7:56. She’s not late yet. But why couldn’t she just be early? That would make everything easier. Irene had almost hoped that when she showed up at the restaurant 30 minutes early she’d find Harry sitting at the booth she had reserved for them, waiting patiently for Irene to bless her with her presence. At least that’s what people usually did for Irene Adler. They waited for her presence to be known. But no no no. Harry Watson wasn’t like that.
Irene needed Harry Watson. Irene needed Harry to bless her with her presence. Irene needed to not be the center of attention in the room. She needed to have something more important in her life. She didn’t want to be the center of her own universe anymore. She wanted Harry to be the center of her universe. She thought about Harry all the time. Over the past few weeks she’d been to Shanghai, Milan, New York, and all the way back to London, and the only thing she could think about was what Harry was doing. Who was Harry with? Was she seeing someone else? It wasn’t as if they were seeing each other exclusively. They weren’t even really seeing each other. They had met once. They had had sex once. Well, the number of times could be debated. But it was only on one occasion.
She wanted it to be more than that. Irene wasn’t the type of woman to have “relationships”. The closest she had ever come was at least over five years ago. And that engagement had ended badly. But with Harry, things were different. It was almost worth the bother. Irene had even stopped Dominating for the time being. It just seemed wrong knowing that Harry was somewhere in the world. Even if she was fucking someone else.
Irene glanced back down at her phone. 7:59. She sighed, crossing her legs and smoothing out the lace on her dress. It had taken her forever to get ready for tonight, given the circumstances of the questions she was planning on asking. She had finally settled on a simple lace white number, with tiny diamonds flowering across her chest and back, and a slit up the front that ended just below her underwear line. She picked out simple white heels and adorned it all with diamond earrings. She had left her hair down.
Irene never left her hair down.
Ever.
For anyone.
Moments later soft foot steps could be heard approaching the table. Irene flung herself back, attempting to strike a very bored, lounging pose, and not entirely succeeding. When she saw Harry she stopped breathing. She could feel her mouth fall open, her tongue suddenly becoming overly moist. She looked fucking beautiful. She slipped into the booth next to Irene, a teasing smile on her face, and kissed her on the shoulder.
Irene sat there for a moment, not really knowing what to do. Harry was sitting there, right next to her, the most beautiful smile on her face, and Irene had no idea what to do. She pulled herself together and managed to smile back, retreating slightly away from where Harry’s body was. Irene had felt a soft twinge in her stomach the moment Harry’s body touched hers.
No. They were going to get through this dinner. They were going to talk about this. Irene was going to do this.
Irene was going to ask Harry to be hers. It was going to happen.
Russian/Granada/Ritchie/BBC-verse Watson mourning Holmes’ death
ooc: They are all fucking miserable. Yes. Yes, John Watson loved Sherlock Holmes dearly, there is no other explanation and THIS ^, this is all the proof we need.
Hell, all the proof we needed was in the fucking books,guiz.
ALL THIS TIME WE WERE WAITING FOR EACH OTHER.
ALL THIS TIME I WAS WAITING FOR YOU.
WE GOT ALL THESE WORDS CAN’T WASTE THEM ON ANOTHER.
AND I’M STRAIGHT IN A STRAIGHT LINE RUNNING BACK TO YOU.YEEAHH.
(lyrics courtesy of OneRepublic, All This Time)
