Tumgik
#redecorating
one-time-i-dreamt · 1 month
Text
I was in one of those hallways to alternate universe, but it was redecorated by a HGTV stylists so all the doors looks exactly the same.
194 notes · View notes
yours-trudy · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
Don't furry too much about it.
71 notes · View notes
calaisreno · 10 months
Text
Lost and Found
Prompt: Redecorating
The sofa has reached the end of its natural life. 
Sherlock has resisted replacing it, despite the cushions leaking some substance that makes him sneeze and several springs poking into his back when he’s trying to find his Mind Palace. 
“Do you have one in there?” John asks. 
Sherlock is baffled, then narrows his eyes. “Do I have a sofa in my Mind Palace?”
John shrugs and gives him a cheeky grin. “Well, I’ve never visited, so I wouldn’t know. For all I know, it’s more posh than the King’s digs.”
“I don’t want a new sofa,” Sherlock gripes. “I want the old one fixed.”
“Nobody does that kind of work anymore,” John explains. Again. This conversation seems to be running on a loop. “It’s too far gone. In any case, we’ll need to carry it out back to the skip.”
Sherlock sits in his chair, pulling his knees up to his chin. He needs to sulk for a few minutes before he’ll help.
“I’ll take the cushions down first,” John says, ignoring the sulk. “We’ll wrangle the frame down after.” 
Removing one of the cushions, he tosses it aside. It’s Sherlock’s favourite cushion, the one where John’s bum always rests on movie nights, with Sherlock’s head in his lap. 
It’s hard to watch, like seeing an old friend taken apart. Well, Sherlock doesn’t have friends, only one, who is currently disassembling his favourite sofa as if it were merely furniture.
“Hey, I found money!” John holds up a coin. It’s an old one-pound coin with Queen Elizabeth’s profile. He pockets it.
“That might be mine,” Sherlock says. 
John smirks. “You never have money in your pockets. Not even a penny. Oh, here’s a penny!” 
He tosses it at Sherlock, who catches it. It’s brown, with a man’s profile. “Who is this?”
“Probably George VI.” John comes over and studies it. “1949. Might be worth a pound.”
Sherlock tucks the coin in his pocket and listens to John muttering as he runs a hand into the framework.
“I wonder how old this sofa is. What’s this? An old sock.”
“I am not currently missing any socks from my index,” Sherlock says. “It must be yours.”
“Mine, then. The dryer eats them. Not sure how it ended up here.”
“It’s a wormhole. Sofas are full of things no one can identify. Artefacts from other dimensions.”
“Hm, I think you’re right. Remember when we got the new microwave, after you blew up the last one with that experiment? We didn’t get the smell out for weeks. And we promptly lost the manual for the new one. Here is it.” He tosses it on the table.
Sherlock sits up, pointing at the next item John’s fished out of the depths. “What’s that?”
“A key. No idea what door it’s for.”
Sherlock comes over, takes it out of his hand. “I think it’s the key to my old flat. I couldn’t find it when I terminated my lease, and they said it didn’t matter, they’d be changing the locks anyway.” He sits on the floor, turning it over in his fingers.
John sits on the remaining cushion. “Where did you live before here?”
“Montague Street. Dreadful flat.”
“You never saw where I was living before, did you?”
“I did.” His face flushes. 
“How did you— oh, God, you picked the lock, didn’t you? While you were off looking for pink suitcases, you broke into my bedsit.”
“Evidence, John. If one is going to share rooms with a person, it’s best to know all you can.”
“And what did my room tell you?”
“That you needed to live with me.” He smiles. “Is that the remote for the telly?”
John giggles. “I hid it last week when you were getting ready to watch that documentary about the serial killers again.”
“I was bored! If I can’t have a serial killer of my own, I might be permitted to vicariously enjoy some.”
“You’re mad, you know. Here’s a note: Do not bin the eyeballs.”
“That’s your doing, John Watson. You binned them and said you never got my note. The evidence is in your hand.”
“Hm. Maybe. Wait— what are my dog tags doing here?”
“I may have… borrowed them. When you went to Edinburgh for that pointless conference.”
“That was a year ago. You borrowed them?”
“I missed you. I couldn’t sleep without you, so I slept out here, on the sofa.”
John leans towards him, kisses his forehead. “You’re adorable, do you know that?”
“So you often remind me.”
John kisses him again, this time on the lips. “There’s a lot of history in this old sofa.”
“There is. But I think I will adjust to the new one.”
“Will you?”
Sherlock smiles and points. “Oh, look! What’s that?”
“What? I don’t see anything else.”
Sherlock kisses him. “It’s my heart. Lost it the day you moved in.”
814 words, Flash Fiction
@lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @raina-at @bertytravelsfar @momma2boys @jrow @helloliriels @the-reading-lemon @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @elwinglyre @mydogwatson @thetimemoves @jobooksncoffee @lhrinchelsea @peanitbear @gregorovitchworld @7-percent @shiplocks-of-love @khorazir @gaylilsherlock @catlock-holmes @the-reading-lemon @inevitably-johnlocked @discordantwords
Thank you for reading/reblogging!
127 notes · View notes
thewhimsyturtle · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Today is a proud who's-the-boss-of-this-corner-now #TortoiseButtTuesday.
24 notes · View notes
raina-at · 10 months
Text
Redecorating
"I think we're just about done for today," John says, wiping his sweaty forehead with his forearm.
Sherlock looks up from wiping down the counter one last time. The furniture is unpacked, the pictures hung, the shelves and displays are up. The register is installed and the sign is resting on the floor, still in its bubble wrap. It will go up tomorrow. John just finished sweeping the floor and scrubbing away the last specks of paint after he retouched a few places. "Looks like it."
"Oh, wait, we forgot something," John says. He takes the mop and bucket into the kitchen and comes back with Sherlock's Bake Off trophy, a glass cake stand engraved with his name and the name of the show.
"Seriously?" Sherlock raises his eyebrows at John in disapproval. "You want to put it up out here?"
"Of course! Where else would you put it!" John answers, his tone heavily implying that he doesn't quite know why they're even having a discussion about it.
"Anywhere else?"
"Sherlock, you do realise some people will come here because of this thing, right?"
Sherlock rolls his eyes and takes the cake stand from John. It's heavy and cool to the touch, and every time Sherlock sees it, he thinks of the night he won, and how afterwards, he took John to Angelo's, how they stumbled back to Baker Street, drunk on adrenaline and Angelo's red, how John kissed him in the December snow outside his flat, the cake stand trapped between their bodies.
"Quite a night, wasn't it?" John says, his voice low and fond.
Sherlock looks up and wonders how John knows what he's thinking, but then he realises there's a small, besotted smile on his face. Well, John is right, and it doesn't hurt to admit it. "It was."
"Nobody will know, Sherlock. For them, it's a memento of the show, nothing more. The only people who know are you and me."
Sherlock nods, just once, and turns around to put the cake stand right above the register. He and John decided not to make a big deal out of their relationship in public, but this feels like a part of their history is on display. And as he looks at the cake stand up there, Sherlock discovers to his surprise that he likes it.  "What do you think?"
John nods approvingly. "Nice!" He yawns a bit and makes a face. "I need a shower, dinner, and a bed. Preferably in that order. Okay with you if I stay over tonight?"
"That's the stupidest question I've ever heard. Like I'd throw you out after you helped me get this place ready all week."
John smiles and gives Sherlock a self-deprecating shrug. "Don't want to overstay my welcome."
Sherlock steps out from behind the counter and pulls John in for a long, slow, tender kiss. "Not possible," he mutters against John's lips. Then he wrinkles his nose. "But you do need a shower."
"Fuck off," John says fondly, pushing Sherlock away playfully.
Sherlock smiles and takes another look around. He can see a dozen little adjustments they need to make. The tables need napkin holders, they need to put the menus up, the chairs need readjusting. The jams need to go into the shelves. And then of course Sherlock has to bake cakes and bread and croissants and a hundred other different things to make it an actual bakery, not just a place where they keep tables and chairs. But it's getting real. So real he can taste it, can see it in his mind's eye, people coming in and buying his baked goods, sitting at the tables, enjoying their tea and cake. It’s equally thrilling and terrifying.
"Hey." John's hand lands on his shoulder, startling him out of his reverie. "Are you coming?"
He swallows and takes a breath before he can say what's on his mind. "What if I fail?"
"You won't," John immediately answers with the staggering confidence he has in Sherlock and everything he does. "You're brilliant and your bakery will be a roaring success."
"But what if it isn't?"
John sighs and squeezes his shoulder. "Look. I don't think you'll fail, but if you do, I'd think of it like a cake recipe you're trying for the first time. If it fails, you try again. And next time, you succeed. Or at least you fail better."
Sherlock huffs a laugh. "Samuel Beckett via Grandma Watson?"
"Something like that," John says, low and fond. "Come on, let's have dinner."
Sherlock isn't quite done yet. He grabs John's hand before he can remove it from Sherlock's shoulder, and he squeezes, just once. "John."
"Yes?"
Sherlock hesitates briefly, fully aware of how inadequate words are to express what John has done for him over the last few weeks, the relentless support, the hours and hours spent painting, cleaning, cheering him on, picking out furniture, trying baked goods, being there for Sherlock whenever he needed it. “Thank you.”
John winds their fingers together and squeezes Sherlock's hand. "You're welcome, you idiot. Now feed me, I'm starving."
Sherlock smiles. “I’ll order from Angelo’s while you shower.”
“Perfect.”
Sherlock turns at the door, looking over his bakery one more time, breathing deeply. The future feels bright and wide open and yet incredibly fragile, because he has so much to lose now. But he knows that having something to lose is the price you pay for having anything at all, and that’s a price he’s more than willing to pay. He nods once at the empty room, muttering, “Perfect.”
Then he turns off the lights and follows John upstairs.
Have some more Bakers today. Thank you so much @calaisreno for the prompt and the tag.
Tagging a few people: @keirgreeneyes @jrow @lisbeth-kk @meetinginsamarra @thetimemoves @khorazir @topsyturvy-turtely @fluffbyday-smutbynight @helloliriels @shiplocks-of-love @inevitably-johnlocked @discordantwords @catlock-holmes and anyone else who wants to play.
78 notes · View notes
toyastales · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
I love how they used a nature inspired color palette for this modern bathroom
50 notes · View notes
lisbeth-kk · 10 months
Text
Redecorating
Thanks for the prompt @calaisreno and the tag @gaylilsherlock
Magical transformation
John hears muffled voices when he locks himself in to the hallway of 221 Baker Street. A deep rumble and a thin voice. He smiles and his heart almost skips a beat with the love filling his chest. When he reaches the landing everything seems to freeze. The sudden silence puzzles him. Maybe they’re going to spook him. He braces himself and ascends the rest of the stairs. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what awaits him inside 221B, though.
The living room is transformed. The furniture are all in place, but almost every surface is covered in some sort of fabric. A deep purple material is draped loosely over the curtain rods, which has a dramatic effect on the light in the room. It reminds John of the moment when curtains are drawn in the theatre. Cast over the tables, are silky cloths decorated with wisterias. There’s also fairy lights on the mantle.
“What’s all this?” he asks when he spots Sherlock.
“Redecoration, John. Do you like it?”
“Well, it’s…um…different,” John manages.
“Indeed. However there’s a bit of an…um…inconvenience,” Sherlock says.
His voice sounds nervous, but the glint in his eyes tells John another story.
“Watson’s, disappeared,” Sherlock says with a sad voice, while winking.
John understands immediately and plays along.
“What? How? When?” John asks, faking distress.
Sherlock looks approvingly at him, clearly satisfied with his acting skills and carries on.
“Well, one minute she was there, the next she was gone. I’m certain this redecorating business brought it on. And Hudders obviously,” Sherlock states firmly.
“Mrs. Hudson? What does she have to do with any of this?” John asks, and this time he doesn’t have to fake his befuddlement.
“Seriously, John. It’s clear as day. She’s used magic. All of these fabrics are hers, and it’s widely known she’s a witch.”
At that John hears a quiet giggle from under the couch. He looks gleefully up at Sherlock and moves closer to peck his lips.
“You’re amazing,” he whispers, before returning to his role.
“So, you’re saying that Mrs. Hudson has taken Rosie?” 
“I suppose so, yes,” Sherlock ponders.
“Do you know where she’s taken her?” John asks with a voice full of hope.
“Oh, it could be anywhere, John. Even the Moon,” Sherlock says gravely.
Another giggle from the underside of the couch. They smile at each other, enjoying this game as much as their daughter.
“The Moon, Sherlock? But how are we going to get her back from there? Do you have any clues? Theories? Please say you do, love!” John begs.
“Of course I have, John. 157 thus far.”
John can literally feel how Rosie fights to restrain herself from laughing out loud.
“John, the witch is coming,” Sherlock says in a hushed voice.
“Yoo-hoo,” a familiar voice greets.
Dressed in a purple, black and silvery dress, a black pointed hat, John’s old cane and a fake crooked nose, Mrs. Hudson’s the incarnation of a witch. John has to bite his lip and pinch his arm not to burst out into giggles. He’s definitely not looking at Sherlock!
“What have you done to our daughter, witch?” Sherlock asks in a dangerous tone. 
“She’s in a safer place now, dear. With all the cake and ice cream she can eat. No more proper food for that precious girl,” Mrs. Hudson cackles. 
“Tell me, or I’ll burn…”
“Sherlock,” John warns.
Sherlock’s been so fixated on his role that he momentarily forgot their five year old daughter’s present. She probably would be horrified to hear him threatening to burn her dear Nanna at the stake. So he backpedals.
“Tell me now, or I’ll turn you over to my brother,” Sherlock sneers.
The disdain on Mrs. Hudson’s face is no act. It seems the mere thought that she would find Mycroft Holmes the least bit intimidating is an insult, and she just huffs indignated.
“No need, Papa. I escaped,” Rosie cheers and emerges from under the couch in her princess Belle dress.
“Clever, Watson,” Sherlock praises and lifts her up to cuddle her.
John reaches out a hand and strokes Rosie’s back.
“Hey, sweetheart. Well done,” he says and moves closer to kiss her cheek.
Mrs. Hudson has removed her false nose and looks more like her own self again.
“I’ll just pop down to get the cupcakes. Put the kettle on, boys” she says and descends downstairs to get her baked goods.
“What do you think?” Rosie asks John and waves her hand to indicate the newly decorated room, while Sherlock fills the kettle.
“It’s certainly different. A bit…um…eclectic,” John answers.
“Electric?” Rosie asks dubiously.
Sherlock hides his smirk and John tries to stay serious.
“No, not electric. Eclectic. Hm…how to phrase it…um…well, I guess it fits rather good come to think of it. It’s a mix of styles sort of, and 221B has always been a bit like that anyway. Too dark in the summer perhaps, but I’m sure the witch downstairs has some lighter fabrics for the bright season,” John contemplates. 
Said witch emerges with cupcakes and before he seats himself, John walks over to Sherlock and sneaks an arm around his waist. Sherlock puts an arm around John’s shoulders and pulls him in for a tight hug. Their princess and the witch busies themselves with setting the table, and John feels like the luckiest man on Earth. When a long finger lifts his head and he stares into Sherlock’s mesmerising eyes, John knows that he wouldn’t trade this life with Sherlock and Rosie for anything. Lips meet in a soft and tender kiss, which ends with both of them speaking in unison.
“I love you.”
Something funny for you today <3
@totallysilvergirl @missdeliadili @keirgreeneyes @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear @raina-at @meetinginsamarra
71 notes · View notes
1lifeinspired · 7 months
Photo
Tumblr media
By Sarah at Room for Tuesday:  Timeless Tips for a Bedroom Refresh- Without Renovating)
50 notes · View notes
mermazeablaze · 8 months
Text
I'm begging home renovators. If you're in a position where you have to remove outdoor steps anyway - why not just update them with a ramp?
Disabled people. Young children. The elderly. Those are a few good examples of why you should choose to update with a ramp. Not to mention it's easier to move stuff in & out.
& as someone who used to volunteer with the historical society & help renovate/repair old homes & buildings. You can update with ramps that fit the aesthetic/time period of the property.
If you're doing a new build. Please consider ramps inside instead of stairs too. For the same reasons!
Plus, they're super cool looking!
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
29 notes · View notes
cacchieressa · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
For my birthday, I bought this cube cabinet and scheduled a guy to come and put it together, and now all my lotion-making supplies are somewhat organized. Or at least out of the living room. (This is in the hallway. That cabinet on the wall hides the buzzer to let people into the building.)
24 notes · View notes
xthedarkfaerie · 18 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
I want to redo my room to make it look like this but I will need to get rid of stuff and then get new stuff and make it fit into my tinsy room 😭
6 notes · View notes
xo01 · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
30 notes · View notes
yours-trudy · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
Trudy. Trudy! STOP.
46 notes · View notes
holdmytesseract · 4 months
Text
Sooo...
I redecorated a bit, because we're on the road to Christmas! 😁🎄🎅🏻🎁
How do y'all like it? ☺️
Tumblr media
Big credits to @jiyaxedits for the wondeful new header! ☺️🥰
@iamlokisgloriouspurpose What do you think, friend? You're the queen of decorating Tumblr blogs, tehe! 😁🧡
14 notes · View notes
thewhimsyturtle · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
Uh oh my hidey hut ship has turned into a rocking ship . . . .
42 notes · View notes
alberta-sunrise · 29 days
Text
Tumblr media
New Prints
Tumblr media
5 notes · View notes