"Madness, it's like gravity...

johnxsherlockfan:

ozymandias2408:

FUCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

That is sooooooo messed up

(Source: whumpresource, via whumpresource)

wowfunniestposts:

Bored? click!

(via sidewayscribbles)

nahualli:

twotwentyonebbakerst:

queenhalimeda:

and-the-cold-wind-blows:

moraniarty:

nahualli:

“Lestrade, show me the body.”
“Sherlock What the hell.”

John’s little and gets tired easily.

so cute

And I’m just going to sit here and wait for the ficlet…..

(Well, here goes…)

There had been something new amiss at Baskerville, and Sherlock had been called back in to investigate. One of the employees had been stealing an experimental anti-aging drug and selling it to other countries overseas. 

Unfortunately, in the process of apprehending the thief and recovering the drug, John was injected with a large dose of it and woke up the next morning having retrograded to the physical age of about five years old.

He’d been rather distraught, naturally—even moreso when Sherlock insisted on taking a case instead of getting right to finding a cure for John’s condition—but in the end Sherlock convinced him to tag along, promising that he’d come up with some sort of excuse for having a child with him.

On the way, John fell asleep, his tiny head resting against the door of the cab. Sherlock shook him awake when they arrived.

“John. We’re here.”

“Go ‘way,” he grumbled, curling closer to the door.

“I need your assistance with this body, John. Get up,” said Sherlock, more sharply this time.

“Piss off.” The cabbie looked back and glared accusingly at Sherlock at that.

Sherlock grit his teeth. “Get up right now or I shall carry you out myself.”

“Fine!” The boy-shaped man crossed his arms stubbornly, eyes still closed. Without another word, Sherlock opened the door and marched around the cab to the other side, pulling John’s door open and wrestling him out of his seat. John struggled for a few moments before glaring and shutting his eyes again, his head falling against Sherlock’s shoulder. Sighing, the consulting detective adjusted his grip and carried the sleeping child into the crime scene. Several members of the Yard’s finest gawked as the he walked past, but he ignored them and approached the Detective Inspector.

“Lestrade,” he said in greeting. “Show me the body.”

Lestrade looked at him, then to the boy, then back to him. “Sherlock. What the hell?”

I hope you don’t mind if I continue this…?

.

Lestrade glanced around awkwardly as the mothers on the team glared at him. “Well he has just brought a—”

“It’s John,” Sherlock muttered as he shifted him from one side to the next. John yawned sleepily, eyes falling shut as his face pressed against Sherlock’s coat and arms went around Sherlock’s neck. 

“Sher,” he murmured sleepily, and Sherlock hushed him with a gentle hand rubbing his back. “Sher.”

Lestrade watched, amazed, as John breathed in deeply, fisting his hands in the coat. ”He’s…”

“A child, yes,” Sherlock sounded bored, though a small smile appeared on his face as John’s breathing evened out. “There is no reason to panic.”

“No reason to panic? How long is he going to be like that?” John shifted in Sherlock’s arms, opening one eye grumpily. 

“As long as it takes us to find out what’s going on around here, Anderson.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow, starting to walk past them. “And as easy as that would generally be for me, your constant nattering about the most obvious things is hardly helping. Did something happen to you as a child? Did your mother drop you on your head and make common practice of you pointing out things everybody already knew to preserve your brain, because if that was her aim, she did not—”

John sighed on his shoulder, suddenly pressing a small kiss to his cheek and giggling madly. Sherlock paused, eyes wide as John hugged him and continued to rest silently. Lestrade snorted, opening the door and disappearing through it. “Cute, John, but we are talking about Sherlock, here.”

Sherlock stood still, staring at John for a few more seconds before brushing sandy hair out of blue eyes and pressing a small, awkward kiss to his tiny cheek.

Rolling his eyes, he walked quickly to the door, mind already three steps ahead.

I need more, I loved it <3

(via bbcsherlockfanwork)

humansofnewyork:

Anonymous hero performs public karate ritual in thunderstorm while wearing business attire.

(via april-fish)

aethyrknight:

Coolest. Weapon. Ever.

(via jimmoriartyandonyourkneespet)

(Source: suicidesquads, via jimmoriartyandonyourkneespet)

Do you know what happens if you don’t leave me alone, Sherlock? To you?

Oh, let me guess. I get killed.

(Source: genehunts, via jimmoriartyandonyourkneespet)

(Source: cantbreathewith, via theyoungerwinchester)

caseylalonde:

fairy-wren:

american kestrel

(photos by david g hemmings)

Handsome indeed and so tiny, too. Adorable little killing machines. :3c

(via jimmoriartyandonyourkneespet)

cybergay:

I THROW A GIANT BUCKET OF AMINO ACIDS IN YOUR FACE AND YOU BRACE YOURSELF BECAUSE YOU’RE STUPID AND PROBABLY THOUGHT IT WOULD MELT YOUR FACE OFF BUT AMINO ACIDS ARE ACTUALLY HEALTHY VITAMINS AND I HAVE DECIEVED YOU

(via april-fish)