February 2012
118 posts
Benedict Cumberbatch smoking really shouldn't be...
merlock-in-the-tavern:
fuck.
1 tag
“You… you told me once that you weren’t a hero. Umm, there were times...”
– John Watson
3 tags
another Omegle Sherlock RP.
You: It's me, John. -SH
Stranger: Sherlock.. you.. It can't be. -JW
You: I'm sorry. -SH
You: I heard what you said at my grave. -SH
Stranger: ..I meant it, you know. Every word. -JW
You: I know. -SH
You: You have every right to be upset. -SH
Stranger: You kept me waiting. I was in the dark for so long, Sherlock. So /damn/ long. I eventually gave up. After a year.. I tried to forget. After two.. -JW
You: Did you think that it was easy for me, John? -SH
You: I had no choice. You would have been killed. -SH
Stranger: I would of rather /died/ for you than live how I did! -JW
You: Mycroft told me that your limp is back. -SH
You: It would upset me a great deal if you were hurt, in any way. -SH
Stranger: It came back shortly after your funeral.. and don't do that. Don't change the subject! It would /upset/ you?! Maybe you should of thought about that when you were on top of that roof! ..My heart fell with you that day. -JW
You: Oh John, how must I explain this? Moriarty would have had you killed. You, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson. -SH
You: I had to jump. That was what he wanted. He wanted me to die in shame. -SH
You: If I didn't jump he would have you all killed! -SH
You: Apparently I do have a heart. -SH
Stranger: ..I didn't believe it. Not a word of what you told me. I knew you weren't a liar. I /knew/ it. ..If you still feel like you have a heart, meet me for lunch. -JW
You: John, open the door. -SH
Stranger: The phone went silent, clattering to the floor as John stood and made his way to the door, opening it quickly. Too many times he had been dreaming this very scene. Too many times it had all been a lie.
You: And at the door, he found a familiar figure.
Stranger: He looked as though he had seen a ghost, and perhaps that's just what Sherlock was now. A ghost. A figment of the man he had watched fall to his death. He sidestepped slowly and made room for him to enter, his brain trying to catch up with who he was seeing.
You: And then came the voice. The one that said goodbye the last time he heard it.
You: "John."
Stranger: His back straightened when he heard his name, but inwardly he couldn't define what it was he was feeling. "..Not even a scar." He muttered, eyes roaming to the side of his head that should of held the worst wound of all.
You: He reached out a hand, but hesitated. He had the strangest fear that if he made contact, it would all disappear.
You: Maybe he has finally reached the breaking point, he thought numbly. He is beginning to see things that are not there.
Stranger: John watched as his hand reached out and slowly his own rose to meet it. Fingertips brushed against skin. Cool skin, but real. Living flesh. "You are real."
You: "Don't be ridiculous, John. Of course I am real. Your mind couldn't have conjured up this terribly realistic version of me even if you tried."
Stranger: (Brb! Stick around!)
You: (sure!)
Stranger: "Not terrible." He said after a moment, the condescending tone striking somewhere deep within him. God, he had missed it. "You'd be shocked at the things my mind has done."
You: "Explain." the voice was deep, and there was a hint of a threat.
Stranger: "..Come in, at least." He said, nodding some.
You: John led the way, and as he climbed the stairs, he couldn't help but look back every steps or so, to make sure that he really wasn't seeing things. That Sherlock was really there.
Stranger: The door to the flat was ajar and John merely nudged it with his shoulder, pushing it open. Nothing had changed. The only thing that was different was the thick layer of dust on everything that Sherlock once had any part of. His violin case was kept in pristine condition, but everything else. Everything remained untouched. "Coffee?" It was habit, asking that is.
You: "You know how I like it, John.". And it was like nothing changed, he went to the kitchen. He heard a creak from the couch. When he returned, he found Sherlock lying there, his length stretched out on it like he always did.
You: It was as if the past three years did not happen.
Stranger: He brewed the coffee and soon the aroma of it filled the apartment. Coffee he hadn't tasted since that day. After a few minutes John brought over two cups and set one down on the small coffee table, moving over to take his place in his old chair. He really was back. "Why so long?"
You: "The past three years, John, I have been tracking down each and every person in Moriarty's network. Even though he had killed himself to end the game, thinking that he won, the network continued to expand without his leadership. I couldn't risk the possibility that he might have left instructions to harm you or Mrs Hudson if I came back. So I destroyed the network, John, bit I bit. And they are all gone now."
Stranger: "So you're back. For good." His body turned to look at the man laying on the couch as if nothing had changed. As if this was just another day.
You: "Yes, John." came the reply.
You: And Sherlock turned the full force of his gaze onto him.
Stranger: "..Good." There were so many things he wanted to say. So many things he wanted to ask, but he knew that answers would come on Sherlock's time, not his. "..We were all very .." Heartbroken, at least he was. He had watched his best friend take his own life. "I missed you."
You: "John, you know what I think about sentiment. But, over the last three years, I have thought about you. "
You: "Maybe I do have a heart after all."
Stranger: "I know. I know." He said tiredly, having heard that statement quite a lot when Sherlock had first been around. "You've /always/ had one. You just never used it."
You: "I care for you, John. And I am sorry for what I put you through. Why aren't you angry with me?"
Stranger: "My friend comes back from the dead.. and you'd think I could be upset. To tell you the truth.. I'm relieved."
You: "It is logical and reasonable to be upset with me, John." "I would much rather that you didn't, though. I don't feel we with you being mad at me."
You: *I don't feel well
Stranger: "..Humor me and shut up. Just this one." he had missed his voice. he had missed everything about the man in front of him, but he needed time to soak this all in. He wanted to admire and enjoy, even for a short time.
You: "John, I...." For once, though, Sherlock stopped. It looked like it took much effort on his part. But he acceded to John's request.
Stranger: The silence. That's what he was used to. No baritone voice. No lingering glances and no violin. "..Play something for me, would you?" Strange, that out of everything.. He found himself having missed that the most.
You: Sherlock picked up the violin, his long fingers grasp the bow between his fingers. And he played.
You: It was a piece John had never heard before. Though John did not know much about music, he could tell that it was sad.
You: And the expression of Sherlock's face as he played. His eyes conveying what he could not say.
Stranger: John sat and listened, closing his eyes as Sherlock played for him. After a moment though they opened again, meeting the gaze that seemed to be searching for his. "I know." He answered, the unsaid question no longer lingering between them. Sherlock /had/ missed him, in his own way.
You: (this seems like a nice place to end this.)
Stranger: (Was great!)
You: (thank you! yes! :D)
Stranger: (:D)
You: (I hope the reunion goes as well as this one.)
Stranger: (I hope so too. T.T)
You: (still can't bring myself to watch Reichenbach.)
Stranger: (No way!)
You: (I mean, re-watch)
Stranger: (Ohh.. I was about to say.. yeah. I don't think I could.)
You: (I read the posts on Tumblr, some pictures of that episode and I get kind of choked up, which is pathetic.)
You: (anyway, it was really nice meeting you. :) )
Stranger: (Take care! Good luck finding more of us!)
You: (bye!)
a chat with a stranger on Zingled
▲: Bored. -SH
▼: Whoever this is, this is not very funny. -JW
▲: It's me, John. - SH
▼: Haha, no. Really, if you're think that you're being hilarious, you're really not. -JW
▼: I have a gun, and people in the British government that can trace your phone. Don't test me. -JW
▲: John, don't be absurd. -SH
▲: The first time I met you, I asked if you came back from Afghanistan or Iraq. -SH
▼: What the... -JW
▼: Wait, that doesn't count. Official building. There are cameras. -JW
▲: Now, do you believe me. -SH
▼: Not particularily, no. -JW
▼: Tell me something only Sherlock Holmes would know. -JW
▲: You shot the cab driver. -SH
▼: SHERLOCK?! -JW
▼: WHAT THE BLOODY HELL -JW
▲: I'm sorry, John. -SH
▼: You made me watch you DIE! -JW
▲: I had no choice. -SH
▼: Oh, REALLY?! How so?! -JW
▲: He would have killed you, Lestrade and Miss Hudson. -SH
▲: *Mrs
▼: You... AND YOU DIDN'T FEEL LIKE TELLING ME?! -JW
▲: I couldn't risk anyone knowing that I was alive. I couldn't risk what was at stake. -SH
▼: I can't believe this. I watch you die, I bury you, I go to my BLOODY THERAPIST and you just text me because you're bored. -JW
▼: You could've taken me with you! -JW
▲: I missed you, John. -SH
▼: Where did you go, exactly?! -JW
▲: Mycroft had me hidden in one of his safe houses. -SH
▼: Oh haha, apparently you didn't miss me enough to tell me that you're still alive. -JW
▼: Wait, Mycroft knows?! -JW
▼: I'm going to kill him. I'M GOING TO KILL HIM. We had tea yesterday. -JW
▲: Go ahead. I wouldn't mind. -SH
▲: I might even give you a hand. -SH
▼: Oh, I'm sure you wouldn't. -JW
▼: Why didn't you send me a sign? Just one?! I was grieving for three years! -JW
▲: He told me how you have been the past few months, John. And I am truly sorry. -SH
▼: Three years, Sherlock. -JW
▼: THREE. -JW
▲: I am sorry. Please forgive me. -SH
▲: I will make it up to you. -SH
▼: That line only works on Molly Hooper, Sherlock. -JW
▼: Wait, stop. -JW
▼: Molly. She did your post-mortem. -JW
▼: Am I the only person who didn't know?! -JW
▲: That was what she told you. I had to enlist her help in this deception. -SH
▼: Oh, so I AM the only person you didn't tell. Well, thanks I guess. Be so kind and go fuck yourself. -JW
▲: John, please... I said I was sorry. -SH
▲: I heard what you said at my grave. You don't mean this. -SH
▼: You were THERE?! -JW
▼: You're so not making this better, Sherlock. -JW
▲: Thank you for believing in me even though I did my best to let you believe otherwise. -SH
▲: I don't have friends, John. -SH
▼: Yeah, no, I thought so. If I was your friend you wouldn't have watched me suffer for years. -SH
▼: *JW
▲: I only have you. -SH
▲: Where would I be without my blogger? -SH
▼: I don't know, tormenting someone else? I bet there are a lot of pathetically loyal idiots for you to chose from. -JW
▼: You're just trying to apologize because you love London and it's convenient that I already know how you prefer your tea. -JW
▲: Oh please, John. You know that it is not true. You were the first person to appreciate my brilliance when the others called me a freak. -SH
▲: And I have thought about you, John, even though I never believed before that I could be capable of sentiment. -SH
▼: ...Yeah, right. So it's tea and an audience. Wonderful. -JW
▼: Sentiment, huh. -JW
▼: Yeah, I guess it's sentiment when you wake up every night crying and screaming because your brain is living through seeing your best friend die in front of you over and over again. Do you have ANY IDEA what the last three years were like for me?! -JW
▲: I do. -SH
▲: You have no idea how much I wanted to let you know, you send you a sign of sorts. Mycroft told me how you have been wasting away. And I wondered if this was all worth it. -SH
▲: *to send
▼: Was it worth it, then?! -JW
▲: It was worth it to know that I never have to think about you being shot ever again. -SH
▲: I wouldn't...couldn't bear it. -SH
▼: I'm a soldier. I can take care of myself. I could've managed, and I could've helped you. -JW
▲: No John, aren't you listening?! He could have had you killed. He had the best assassins, all waiting to end your life if there was any sign that I wasn't dead as I tricked the world to think that I was. -SH
▲: It doesn't matter now. I destroyed his network. One by one. -SH
▼: Do you know what that feels like, standing on the ground and seeing your friend fall, knowing that no matter how fast you run, you won't be able to catch him? I thought I had failed you. I thought that if I had been there just a few minutes earlier, I could've stopped this. -JW
▲: And what if you had? You would have been killed. -SH
▲: Shot, through the heart, John, to make it clearer to you. -SH
▼: Felt like it anyway. -JW
▲: John, the only thing that kept me going over the past three years was knowing that you were alive. That your heart was beating. -SH
▲: And I deserve your anger. I'm really sorry, John. -SH
▲: You can hit me if you want. Just please, -SH
▲: let me come home. -SH
3 tags
4 tags
Rant: My Obsessions.
I don’t know why I do this. I don’t know why I have to think of Reichenbach and feel my heart ache just a little. I know that the characters are fictional. I know that Benedict Cumberbatch is an actor and he is in the new Star Trek movie. I know that this is a TV show. Everything is plotted and written for maximum impact by the writers. I know all that. And yet every time I rewind that clip of...
“She no longer felt like seeing anyone, or rather, the absence of the one made...”
– Alain de Botton - The Romantic Movement.
When I read The Bell Jar two years ago.
I got my copy of The Bell Jar while I was still with the ex. He didn’t approve I my choice of depressing literature. Nor did he understand why The Perks of Being A Wallflower was my favourite book. I think once, two months into the relationship, he told me that the book was depressing and didn’t understand why Charlie was “so emo all the time”. His words, not mine. I think...
