WHIPSDOM

/ it’s literally perfect 

( @adamnedsoldier )
            
            "can't blame me for enjoying the game. well, you could, but it would be a tad hypocritical," irene said in a bored tone. her fingers brushed along sherlock's immobile shoulder as she slid off the arm of the leather chair, stepping back towards john's. for all her games, she preferred standing if she couldn't have sherlock's chair. asserting dominance. "and what about you? what do / you / want, dr watson?" irene asked, brows lifting. she brushed her hand along the back of john's chair, considering the soft fabric. worn. well-loved. she'd missed this; there had never been pawns as malleable as john and sherlock. she pursed her lips, nodding slowly. frankly, she thought that was a load of bull -- sherlock was an idiot when it came to sentiment, and irene could already tell he was unaware of john's lingering affections. they'd have to work that out on their own. "then perhaps he's moved on," she said, voice ringing out in the quiet flat. "suppose that whole ' being in love ' nonsense did rather slow him down. still. everyone needs a release at some point, don't they? i think he's thought about it at least /once/," she said, ducking down to whisper in john's ear, as if sharing a great secret. "but don't worry. i won't tell him what / you / think about."
            
            / LMAO never fear, far higher quality than mine would've been if faced with the demonic spider

“god you’re enjoying this,” he barked a laugh, finally resigning to his chair, folding a leg over the other as he leant back. trying to relax himself. he didn’t need to think about the hurt he caused sherlock back in the airport, nor did he need to think about sherlock saying he no longer concerned himself with romantic attachments. what was there to fight for if sherlock had already made himself clear? “we aren’t together. sherlock made it clear he doesn’t want things like that.” john repeated, maybe if he said it enough it would sink in and he’d be able to move on. he groaned and tilted his head back, glowering at  the ceiling. “it’s /fine/, /they’re/ fine,” he forced out through gritted teeth. of course, that would have convinced no one. it wasn’t fine. anyone could see the longing in his eyes for sherlock, and he’d have loved nothing more to pick up where they left off. of course he wanted more, but he wasn’t going to get it.“well he’s a genius. he can probably guess how i feel given the fact i implied it when we met again at bart’s,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. he swallowed, looking over to irene. “he wouldn’t. he wouldn’t cave for you. he’s not- he’s not like that.” so pathetically in love and unable to tell the one person that needed to know. 
            
            / fighting for my life during this. if it doesn’t make sense im sorry but im lucky to be alive 

( @adamnedsoldier )
            
            irene almost felt sorry for the pair of them. hopeless. she'd felt sympathy for them when she was younger, offering bits of advice to them, but perhaps it had always been a lost cause. she arched a delicate brow, carding her fingers through the dark curls, red varnished nails scratching through with lazy effort. "in what sense? keep him in one piece, or keep his heart from being broken? i quite think you've already broken it once or twice yourself, john," she quipped, dropping the formality at last. she let out a soft, tinkling laugh at the denials. john had been amusing before but this was really something else. "you two have always been a couple, despite the women that you like to sleep with," irene said, gaze raking up and down john's form - not admiration, but something far more aware. "it must be a poor substitution, isn't it? you're really not satisfied. i can see it on your face. you want /more/ from him. i suppose i don't need to tell you what you want, though- do you think he /suspects/?" she asked, voice dropping to a breathy whisper; patronizing as ever. she freed her hand from the tangled curls, the scent of sea salt shampoo  on her fingers. familiar. the poor boy never changed despite his act. "you're worried, aren't you? that he'll cave in this time?"

/ hit me with something around the time of asib?? 

⠀⠀ ⠀ ╱      super late.    but two drops(?)    curious & injured. i’d love to drop in return, let me know if you have a specific mood?

@WHIPSDOM / * shrugs * what can I say? 

@WHIPSDOM ) i’m in line in front of a bunch of kids & trying not to laugh —

@WHIPSDOM / * eye emoji * 

@WHIPSDOM ) terribly late , but perhaps an intro ? 

@WHIPSDOM 
            
            * the woman gave a soft hum , nodding . * of course . i absolutely have to live up to my reputation , don’t i ? * she replied , a smirk tugging on the corner of her lips , as she looked at her . *

@eastwindings ;   eurus holmes . why , i / have / heard a lot about you . the consultant criminal seemed remarkably . . . fond . * her blood red lips curl into a small smirk , her eyes glinting amusedly . * my , my . trying to steal me away from your dear brother already ?

@PRODIGALVOICE /   I'M QUITE LATE BUT ALSO QUITE HONORED

@WHIPSDOM / may I? 

@gucumyetenekadar /   make me —