Will you come?

If Sherlock S5 happens, all I ask for them is to make Rupert Graves look as good as he looked in Swimming With Men

can they do that?

please?

I mean look at him!!!

                         He  couldn’t  sleep  now,   not  with  Greg  uneasy.   Not  without  Greg  by  his  side.   And  nightmares  were  no  strange  thing  to  Sherlock,   he  suffered  plenty  of  his  own.

He  drapes  his  blanket  over  Greg  as  the  other  leans  in,   and  he  enjoys  the  sense  of  closeness.   He’s  always  felt  secure  with  Greg,   and  he’s  determined  to  figure  out  how  to  return  the  favor.   “Do  you  want  to  talk  about  it?”   he  asks,   leaning  in  like  he’s  going  for  a  kiss,   but  instead  he  just  nuzzles  his  face  against  Greg’s.   Sort  of  like  a  cat.   He’s  a  bit  strange  like  that.   “I  need  a  cigarette  before  I  go  back  to  sleep,”   he  reasoned.   He’d  say  anything  to  keep  Greg  from  feeling  like  he  was  keeping  Sherlock  up,   even  if  he  was,   Sherlock  would  just  lie.   But  in  a  good  way,   just  little  white  lies.

     It always made him smile whenever Sherlock started to nuzzle him, his curls almost tickling his face as he brushed his face against his. He had realized over time that it was Sherlock’s way of showing affection. Or at least one of them. And Greg honestly found it endearing. Hearing that Sherlock wanted a cigarette however, that one he didn’t.

SUPERNATURAL SENTENCE STARTERS

     “Oh? Is that what you’ve been up to lately?”

     “That’s really adorable! You’ve got to show it to me some time.”

SUPERNATURAL SENTENCE STARTERS

     “----I’m only a couple of inches shorter than you!”

Jim had a look of AMUSEMENT on his face. Which was always DANGEROUS because it either meant he was going to LAUGH at a joke or become incredibly VOLATILE.  “Mighty BOLD of you to assume you’re in a position to give out orders.” He chirped before shaking his head, “No, no, no. You’re TRESPASSING on my property, you don’t have a warrant, we checked, so DON’T INSULT ME!” The sudden RAISING of his voice echoed in the hollow air. Jim allowed his threat to linger in the air before the aggression on his face MELTED away and twisted into something that resembled apology.        “I’m sorry. That was mean.”

     Jesus Christ.

     A mere moment was all it took. The sudden raising of the man’s voice had Greg almost backing up in surprise. Unpredictable. This madman was unpredictable and just one wrong move, one wrong word and Greg could be dead. The sudden apologetic look would not fool him any longer. He could not let his guard down, or else, he’d be dead.

     ...who was he kidding? He walked right into the enemy’s lair. He was as good as dead at this point.

@dcntcommitsuicide​ liked for a starter

Sitting on a restaurant patio in the golden autumn afternoon shouldn’t be this fucking hard, but it is. 

Feels more like getting teeth pulled than sitting here on this bloody gorgeous day, sipping on a pint and waiting for a friend to join him. Everything in John is telling him to run, to slap a tenner on the table with an apologetic note, and then be off to sit in the dull grey dark of his new flat until he falls into a numb sleep just like he’s done every other damn night for the past two months. 

Everything is just too… pleasant. It hurts. 

It’s either a blessing or a curse that John never gets the opportunity to seriously consider leaving. He spies Lestrade walking toward him from the corner of his eye, and throws on a smile, rising up to greet his friend. They hadn’t seen each other since the funeral - not for lack of trying on Lestrade’s part, which only adds to the guilt. 

“Greg,” John smiles, and find that to some relief he doesn’t have to fake being happy to see the man as he thought he might. “How’ve you been?”

     Admittedly, he thought by the time he’d get to the restaurant, John wouldn’t be there.

     Not like he expected the bloke to stand him up, no. More like he had been afraid John would end up leaving without waiting for him if he took too long to get there. So the moment he finished with work, he rushed to their meeting place, not wanting to miss the chance of having a chat with an old mate.

     And to think it had been so hard to get a hold of John Watson lately too.

     But he was there, and relief washed over him. Good. He hadn’t left yet. He found himself returning the smile etched on John’s features. God, how long had it been since he last saw him? Days? Weeks? Months? Christ, it felt like it had been ages ago.

@dcntcommitsuicide CONT.

     “If a bird walked into a crocodile’s mouth and the crocodile SNAPPED, is it kidnap or naivety on the bird’s behalf?”  The question was RHETORICAL. Greg had been stupid enough to enter Moriarty’s domain without back up, it was all too easy to LOCK HIM IN. A curious fly, a venus fly trap.  “I don’t need saving, detective,” Jim replied plainly. “The devil and I have FAR too much fun. Do you know what Lucifer means?” Jim took a tab of gum from his pocket and put it on his tongue, chewing it until the sugary shell had gone, “Bringer of light. Lucifer was the BRIGHTEST and MOST BEAUTIFUL of all the angels… ‘til god got jealous and cast him out.”

     “Bloody spare me the lecture, eh?”

     Moriarty wasn’t wrong -- it really was a stupid move on Greg’s part to go investigate on his own. Without any backup. All because he had a hunch. Well, who would even think that his hunch was right, after all? Even Greg himself did not expect to be right either. But there he was, locked up right inside the place they had been searching for months. Right inside Moriarty’s lair.

     He intended the kiss to be rough and dominating, something Jim wouldn’t expect out of him. 

     Greg knew he took Jim by surprise. After all, between the two of them, he was not the one to initiate any sort of physical contact. So he didn’t mind that the other froze the first time he crashed his lips with his, pushing his tongue almost forcefully into Jim’s mouth. Hell, he even thought he would be pushed away once he felt a hand on his chest, but then Jim was kissing back. And so he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, letting his tongue tangle and roll with Jim’s, kissing him until his lungs were screaming for air.

     Greg’s face heated up a little. Why of course Sherlock would throw the question back at him. And it wasn’t something Greg could lie his way out of, because Sherlock would deduce it out of him anyway. Best not to address that question then. Maybe bloke wouldn’t even notice. “Why would I want to tie you up when I can just use my handcuffs?” He folded his arms over his chest, not meeting Sherlock’s eyes. “I’d rather cuff you down and use a gag on you when you’re being an insufferable git,” his train of thought went. 

POOR MAN’S POISON SENTENCE STARTERS,   pt 1

     “The way I see it, I thought you had the devil inside you for a long time now.”

     After everything that Moriarty had done, after all the people he had killed, used and played with, Greg had been pretty convinced that the man was the devil himself. Quite an impression too -- Greg had been working as a copper for the longest time but he’d never seen any criminal as clever but conniving as James Moriarty.

     “So, you think I should save you from the devil then? Is that why you’ve decided to kidnap me?”