Tumgik
#watsolmes
agoddamneddelight · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
merry christmas from the guys! 🎄
2K notes · View notes
technically-human · 3 months
Text
How is this podcast real
977 notes · View notes
chessariusrex · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
"I had been working for some months before I succeeded in perfecting the formula: a few crystals of sodium, not potassium, chloride, and a quantity of glacial acetic acid proving to be the correct combination. Pyridine I had tried, of course, instead of the acetic acid, but it was less reliable, and only the most reliable of tests would do for me. It was important, too, that the test proved the presence of only human, not animal, haemoglobin. As I watched the reaction occur for the fourth time that morning, my mind was suffused by the keenest of pleasures: a pure, a delicate, mental, nay, cerebral, joy. A joy which, I believed, would always surpass in quality the lesser joys of the flesh in just such a measure as the tone of my own violin, its quivering strings eloquent in their passion, would surpass the discordant scrapings of the street fiddlers of London.
Steps roused me from my happy contemplation. Two people. One was Stamford, my colleague, a rotund, inoffensive man, much attached to the pleasures of the table, although not yet prey to the cold sensuality of the glutton. The other . . . a smaller man than I, the length of his stride told me, stepping more heavily to one side than the other. The hint of a drag in a militarily precise pace: wounded on the right, high on the limb."
Entry from the fic that keeps on giving and my visual depiction of it :
I just wanted to show my appreciation for the fic and it's creator @artemisastarte , the only other thing that keeps me waking up is knowing it will update eventually.
476 notes · View notes
renthebarbarian · 9 months
Text
Irene Adler: yay I married the love of my life (who is not Sherlock Holmes) and ran away with him!
Readers: wow, such a passionate love affair between Irene Adler and Sherlock Holmes ☺️
Holmes, sitting in Watson’s lap: I’m a sodomite
1K notes · View notes
cornettotism · 1 month
Text
No cause, it's the way Holmes and Watson were always destined to find each other in every universe, but there is not a single one where they are destined to end up together.
They are quite literally doomed by the narrative in every universe they find each other in, forced to have their future together ripped away from them by any means necessary. Whether that be death, marriage on either side, or simply the fact that it was inappropriate for the time period, the universe refuses to allow them to become any more than friends.
98 notes · View notes
watsonsdetective · 15 days
Text
The struggle of not knowing how to tag "Holmes/Watson" content if it's not specifically the BBC version of the ship.
Like, yeah, the ship name in general is Johnlock. I guess. But also most people don't call them by their first names if they do not talk about the modern adaptations. So calling those "Johnlock" feels kinda weird (?)
But there isn't really a popular ship name made from their surnames. I have seen Watsolmes, which I think is a good ship name, but people barely use it.
So I just end up using "[adaptation] Johnlock", "Johnlock" and "Watson/Holmes" ┐( ̄ヘ ̄)┌
How do we feel about Watsolmes, guys???
72 notes · View notes
n3l-01 · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
102 notes · View notes
goosebxrry-art · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
assorted granada holmes sketches !
62 notes · View notes
funkylittleblorbos · 1 year
Text
Watson listening to Holmes ramble about his special interest with a sweet smile on his face
347 notes · View notes
amypihcs · 7 days
Text
And here we are! I don't drink, i've never got drunk in my life and i don't plan to. But i've witnessed friends of mine being drunk (and drunkenly confessing things, but that's a long story), and i though i needed to get our gentlemen drunk!
There's one headcanon particularly dear to me in this story, and it's about the irregulars aadn, i hope you like it!
I thank my dear friend @louieclamlent for having betaed this fic and @i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end for being such a good friend and listening to my rant and making up HCs together!
Some tags?
@tyrannosaurusnacks @fruitviking @blistering-typhoons @euphoric-cha0s @skyriderwednesday @rainbow-person @cackled0g @usergreenpixel @r2y9s-notartblog @uygfiug
20 notes · View notes
solarotters · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton
483 notes · View notes
agoddamneddelight · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
having major insane art block. anyway have a holmes
447 notes · View notes
technically-human · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Hello and welcome back to me projecting
296 notes · View notes
transholmes · 9 months
Text
A Quiet Evening
I wrote a short something. Guess it works for original canon too, but I wrote it with Brett and Hardwicke in mind.
Also on Ao3.
-
Our rooms at Baker Street were silent apart from the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth and the constant beating of the against the windowpane. There had been a thunderstorm earlier but though the thunder had moved past the rain had not abated. It was late and between the hour and the weather, even the street outside was silent.  
I sat on the sofa by the fireplace, staring into the dancing flames. I had been reading but found the text did not compel me tonight, the high seas and its adventures held no interest. Instead, I found myself engaged in a half-dreaming reverie, recalling those I had had of my own through the years, of the long and winding path I had walked alongside my friend and companion.  
My gaze slipped from the fire to Holmes’s back where he sat at his work table, bent over his microscope. I lingered at the sight of his lean back, the way his black hair shone in the low light. He was wearing his old, mouse-grey dressing gown. I knew how soft that fabric was beneath my hands. How he would sigh when I kissed the nape of his neck when he was in the mood.  
He was stabler now than when we were younger. Though his dark moods had not disappeared, they happened with less frequency even at times like this when there was a longer stretch of inactivity. And he was less prone to seeking solace or escape in narcotics, much to my unending delight.  
“I’m fine, Watson,” he said, without turning his head.  
“Reading my thoughts again, Holmes?” I asked, with no real surprise.   
I was accustomed to his ability to pierce my thoughts and it had been years since it had made me uncomfortable. There were no longer any secrets between us, we knew the worst parts of each other. And the best.  
He turned in his seat to face me, one arm hooked around the back of the chair.  
“Shall I walk you through the steps?” he asked, his lips curling into a smile.  
“I would much rather you joined me here,” I said suddenly feeling that he was too far away, even if he sat only a few feet away.  
He rose with familiar elegance and crossed to my side, perching himself on the armrest of the sofa.  
I laughed at his antics and padded the seat next to me.   
With a grin, he moved.  
“What do you wish?” he asked.  
I shifted in my seat and put my hands at his waist, the novel I had half forgotten about falling to the floor with a thud. Neither Holmes nor I paid it any mind.  
I felt the warmth radiating off him, the lithe muscles beneath the fabric, and my fingertips brushed against the bottom edge of the whalebone corset he used to flatten his breasts.  
“May I?” I asked, leaning forward.  
“You may,” he answered.  
I pressed my lips to his. They were dry and slightly chapped but warm like all of him. His hand came up to rest on my shoulder, and I felt his fingers draw lazy, restless patterns.  
He did not deepen the kiss and neither did I, content with tasting his lips. When I pulled back there was a slight blush on his pale cheeks and a warm smile creased his lips.  
“Was this what you were after?” he asked.  
“Among other things.”  
“What else can I give you tonight?”  
“Would you play for me?”  
“You have but ask.”  
He rose and retrieved his violin.  
“What is your request?”  
I thought for a moment.  
“You pick. Something that suits your mood,” I said.  
“My mood? Very well,” he said as he tugged the instrument under his chin.  
He closed his eyes, put the bow to the strings, and began to play. I didn’t recognize the tune, it might have been one of his own, but it was soft with a light, almost merry note to it.  
I leaned back in my seat and stretched out my legs, my eyes sliding half shut as I listened to him play, the gentle notes mixing with the crackle of the fire and the patter of the rain. 
54 notes · View notes
renthebarbarian · 3 months
Text
Stamford: Tbh I think Holmes would poison someone just to see what would happen.
Watson, openly salivating: I HAVE to move in with this guy
83 notes · View notes
cornettotism · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
Johnlock, if you even care.
(SONG: Because Dreaming Costs Money, My Dear by Mitski)
51 notes · View notes