Jun 1, 2014
{Please go follow xmanipulative and Lokis-rage-rp they are two amazing people who have really helped me over the last few days. Seriously guy I love you thanks for the pictures of puppies and kitten gifs ^-^}
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{Please go follow xmanipulative and Lokis-rage-rp they are two amazing people who have really helped me over the last few days. Seriously guy I love you thanks for the pictures of puppies and kitten gifs ^-^}
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[text]: I donât think I can do this anymore. -SH
[sms] Do what? JM xoxo
The dead don't get house calls
Irene swallowed and lay back in her chair sighing. Such a long day. Such a long and boring day. No clients came today and there was no fun to be had, well clients hardly ever called now that she was âdeadâ irene sighed again and pulled herself off of her chair and walked over to the table picking up the half finished packet of cigarettes. It really was a filthy habit but she couldnât be bothered to quit now she was dead once already. Irene pulled out a single cigarette and a lighter holding them in the palm of her hand as she tightened her dressing gown her ever slimming waste. Why eat now that you are dead? she thought chuckling bitterly to herself. Irene walked over to the small window of her attic flat and lit the cigarette watching the end turn to ash as the welcome glow came from it. She breathed in the smoke drawing it into her lungs before blowing it out like a cloud forming in front of her face before it dissipated and headed to the world outside. Why wouldnât some one come? But she knew that the dead didnât get many house calls.
â hypothermia â
xmanipulative:
    It had been cold outside, and he was aware of that- but he could hardly understand how some people were still walking around the streets even if they had been wearing quite padded clothes, especially with the coats. Sherlock glanced out the window, a small huff escaping his lips as he found himself alone again in the flat. John was with Mary, and Mrs Hudson⌠He didnât know, she was probably asleep. He spotted a body on the floor outside, though, and he was a little concerned..      So he pulled on his coat and his scarf and he quickly ran out of the house, but he seemed to calm down a little when the cold had actually hit him. It was below freezing, that was fairly obvious by this point.      "VictorâŚ?â He questioned mostly to himself, and he ran over to him and quickly took off his own coat, fuck his own warmth, and he put it over Victor as he lifted him up as best as he could, making his way quickly to the flat and as soon as he got him in, he shut the door and put Victor on the floor, glancing at his clothes. He knew how to help him, take off the wet clothes and keep him dry and then warm him.    He did exactly that, taking only his shirt off because it seemed a lot more like his legs were dry, for some reason⌠He got a towel, drying him as quickly as he could and then calling 999. âVictor, are you awake? Are you okay?â He asked quickly, before he heard the phone operator answer and he told them everything before hanging up again, putting the phone to the side as he waited for Victor respond or whatever he could do.
    Victor was aware that this time, he really had fucked up. He had been aware of that even as soon as he left his current accommodation (which was terribly temporary, and he counted as little more than a hotel for the moment; it was hardly somewhere where he intended to stay for long) and yet even by that point, it had been too late to turn back.
    It was a matter of priority, and there were some things that were of paramount importance. People would die otherwise, others would be worse off than him-- and god, it was idiotic, when he had ended up here.
   He was past the point of shivering, and past the point of finding everything hysterically funny, and towards the end of the spectrum where unconsciousness was all too close. He could feel the tug and slip of it, and it was a last effort of will that was keeping him even intermittently aware. How he had ended up quite here was currently a mystery to his sluggish mind, but there were arms around him, and the strange sensation that came with pressure against numbed limbs, and, and--
    And he knew that voice. "Sh'lock?" His words were slurred and came far later than he intended them to, at least a minute after Sherlock hung up the phone. He tried to force himself to move, open his eyes, check, but the effort was futile.Â
"There's not even a hospital nearby, just let me die."
     âIâm not lying you die- fuck- Sherlock- if you do dieâŚâ Jim paused and was completely serious, âI will follow you.â
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"I just want you to be happy.."
"Why�"
[text] My night ended with me crying in a gutter, I hate you. -SH
Meme
[text] ...What exactly was my involvement with this? -JM[text] And are you okay or should I send help? -JM
Blind AU
irene excused herself from the office and leant on the wall outside tears welling up in her eyes, this simply couldnât be happening. She couldnât look after herself when she was slowly going blind and she tried not to think about what would happen afterwards. Irene wiped the tears from her cheeks and pulled her phone out from her bag, she was going to have to tell someone, anyone, about this. Irene hated to admit it but see needed someone to look after her. Irene flicked through her contacts before hitting the call button and held the phone to her ear. âHello, I need youâŚi need you to help meâ she said tears falling down her face again despite how much she tried to stop them.