lNTELLECTUS

@adamnedsoldier
          	
          	Sherlock pulled Rosie's stroller from the trunk, and her nappy bag as John ambled out the front of the car. The gleeful screams and laughs of children echoed down the street and it made Sherlock grimace. John sent him out to go buy things to bring to the party while the doctor got their daughter ready.
          	
          	Sherlock had been micro dosing on heroin for some time by then. For pain, nightmares, sleep, appetite. It helped. Better than anything. He hadn't been that chipper in ages. But that day, he took a half dose and it made his brain feel like it was made of razor blades. 
          	
          	"What do we tell them? When we go in?" Sherlock asked absentmindedly, "we're engaged? Partners? Boyfriends? Friends?"

lNTELLECTUS

@adamnedsoldier 
          	  
          	  Sherlock almost groaned but decided against that for the sake of his continued life. He set Rosie's things down and left her nappy bag by the door, as they usually did. He took the ready-made bottle out and put it in the fridge. John came downstairs after, and it made Sherlock's stomach churn. 
          	  
          	  He sat as he was instructed to, folded his hands in his lap so he didn't start picking at the skin by his fingernails. He glanced the cup and murmured a quick thank you. He kept his eyes on the ground, trying to delay talking for as long as possible. He just wanted more heroin. That's it. He wanted to sleep and forget what happened. He stared at his knuckles and realised too late that he hadn't soaked them — no violin until that healed.
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adamnedsoldier

@lNTELLECTUS ;
          	  
          	  John walked into the flat behind Sherlock, holding Rosie close to his chest. He sighed looking to Sherlock, “don’t go anywhere. You’re not getting out of this. Neither of us want to talk about it but we have to,” he told him before taking Rosie upstairs. 
          	  
          	  Setting Rosie in her crib, pressing a kiss into her hair and tucking her in. John ran hand over his face, taking a sharp breath before he went back downstairs. “Sit.” He instructed, pointing at Sherlocks chair and looked up at him. He walked past and went to the kitchen to make two mugs of tea. “Here,” he muttered, setting the mug on the table next to Sherlock before he sat in his tartan chair opposite.
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lNTELLECTUS

@adamnedsoldier 
          	  
          	  Sherlock listened, imagined what it would have been like had John been his friend growing up. Sherlock would have been better. He would have been good. But Sherlock grew up on his own and he knew better than to imagine what things could have been. He looked up when the flat came into view, and nearly sighed in relief. Home. He just wanted a cup of coffee and a nap. 
          	  
          	  Sherlock got the stuff from the trunk, and went inside before John could catch him with the 'we need to talk' or the 'be honest; what's going on?' — he didn't have it in him to talk about that. He didn't have it in him to talk. He needed more drugs and the low that came after how much he had was dangerous. He had to nurse that, make sure he didn't do something stupid. Lord knows his skin had taken enough damage.
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adamnedsoldier

John sighed and folded his arms, leaning back in the living room chair. “Sherlock, for the last time. Rosie will not care what still of dress she wears as a flower girl,” he told his fiancé as he watched him pace the living room, muttering things about the wedding. 
          
          He stood up and moved to be in front of him, “love,” he started, grabbing Sherlocks arms to still him, “you’re making me feel dizzy so please stop. The wedding is going to be perfect because I finally get to marry you. We’ll officially be a family. You can adopt Rosie.”

adamnedsoldier

“Sherlock our wedding will be perfect regardless of what colour things are. I know you don’t think it will be, but I can guarantee that it will be,” Johns arms sat across his chest, folded, as he watched Sherlock continue to pace. This wedding would be the death of him if John slipped up and took his eye off Sherlock for a minute. It was almost as bad as a case.
            
            “I’m always right,” John beamed proudly, wrapping his arms around Sherlocks waist, “I love you, but you really must calm down before you short circuit that brilliant brain of yours,” he sighed when Sherlock kissed him, closing his eyes contently. “As long as Rosie feels like a princess, she’ll be alright. She loves the attention, you know. Bit like her dramatic father to be,” he shot Sherlock a look, trying to be serious but couldn’t hide the fondness in his eyes. He groaned when Sherlock began pacing again, John was convinced he would be motion sick if Sherlock carried on. “I think we should take a break from planning.”
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lNTELLECTUS

@adamnedsoldier ... / same tbhwy lol, thank you for this <33
            
            "But it needs to match the colour scheme, John. Our suits match the colour scheme, the flowers match the colour scheme, and if her dress is not perfect then what?" He argued as he paced and ruffled his hair — clearly overwhelmed but too fixated to step away from it. He kept muttering to himself, telling himself what still had to be done and what little time they had. 
            
            He almost walked into John, recoiled and met his fiancé's eyes. He stilled as was intended, and the contact grounded him. He sighed softly, in relief almost, and nodded. "Alright, yes, you're right. You're absolutely right." He brought his arms up and hugged John, hand on the back of his head and a kiss planted to his forehead, "we can't let her wear a puff shoulder dress because it'll be too much. We can get her a tailor made Elsa dress? Or something like Rapunzel... I know someone who can do that, I have a favour to ask. She'll like that—" he pulled away and started pacing again, going over how they'd manage where Rosie would be going and if she had somewhere to take a nap at the venue.
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adamnedsoldier

/ i had writers block for the others so thought maybe a new one will fix it
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adamnedsoldier

/ imagine :
          -pre johnlock love confession 
          sherlock (and maybe mycroft) is buried alive by a serial killer on a case which leaves john and greg to try and find out where he is and it turns out to be outside of london somewhere. 
          they think they’ve run out of time because the killer told them sherlock had 24 hours of air but they keep going. 
          sherlock somehow found a way to extend his air supply depending on what he’s buried in, manages to send a short vague message to john. 
          he gets found at the very last second. john pulls him out. boom, love confession. 
          
          or don’t imagine it, i can’t control you

adamnedsoldier

/ hehe
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lNTELLECTUS

@adamnedsoldier 
            
            / you wish to harm me??? (i love this)
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lNTELLECTUS

@adamnedsoldier
          
          Sherlock pulled Rosie's stroller from the trunk, and her nappy bag as John ambled out the front of the car. The gleeful screams and laughs of children echoed down the street and it made Sherlock grimace. John sent him out to go buy things to bring to the party while the doctor got their daughter ready.
          
          Sherlock had been micro dosing on heroin for some time by then. For pain, nightmares, sleep, appetite. It helped. Better than anything. He hadn't been that chipper in ages. But that day, he took a half dose and it made his brain feel like it was made of razor blades. 
          
          "What do we tell them? When we go in?" Sherlock asked absentmindedly, "we're engaged? Partners? Boyfriends? Friends?"

lNTELLECTUS

@adamnedsoldier 
            
            Sherlock almost groaned but decided against that for the sake of his continued life. He set Rosie's things down and left her nappy bag by the door, as they usually did. He took the ready-made bottle out and put it in the fridge. John came downstairs after, and it made Sherlock's stomach churn. 
            
            He sat as he was instructed to, folded his hands in his lap so he didn't start picking at the skin by his fingernails. He glanced the cup and murmured a quick thank you. He kept his eyes on the ground, trying to delay talking for as long as possible. He just wanted more heroin. That's it. He wanted to sleep and forget what happened. He stared at his knuckles and realised too late that he hadn't soaked them — no violin until that healed.
• Reply

adamnedsoldier

@lNTELLECTUS ;
            
            John walked into the flat behind Sherlock, holding Rosie close to his chest. He sighed looking to Sherlock, “don’t go anywhere. You’re not getting out of this. Neither of us want to talk about it but we have to,” he told him before taking Rosie upstairs. 
            
            Setting Rosie in her crib, pressing a kiss into her hair and tucking her in. John ran hand over his face, taking a sharp breath before he went back downstairs. “Sit.” He instructed, pointing at Sherlocks chair and looked up at him. He walked past and went to the kitchen to make two mugs of tea. “Here,” he muttered, setting the mug on the table next to Sherlock before he sat in his tartan chair opposite.
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lNTELLECTUS

@adamnedsoldier 
            
            Sherlock listened, imagined what it would have been like had John been his friend growing up. Sherlock would have been better. He would have been good. But Sherlock grew up on his own and he knew better than to imagine what things could have been. He looked up when the flat came into view, and nearly sighed in relief. Home. He just wanted a cup of coffee and a nap. 
            
            Sherlock got the stuff from the trunk, and went inside before John could catch him with the 'we need to talk' or the 'be honest; what's going on?' — he didn't have it in him to talk about that. He didn't have it in him to talk. He needed more drugs and the low that came after how much he had was dangerous. He had to nurse that, make sure he didn't do something stupid. Lord knows his skin had taken enough damage.
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adamnedsoldier

John could feel Sherlock being more distant than usual, they had no case or any other distractions yet Sherlock still pushed John away. Their relationship was fairly new, just over a year, so they were both still learning how to deal with each other but when Sherlock was like this; the doctor felt at a loss. Any time John tried to pull him in for a hug, or kiss, Sherlock would change the subject or settle for a rather awkward hand on the shoulder. Sherlock was never a hands on romantic, settling for small acts of service over intimacy but John didn’t mind. He knew the emotion behind a song was the same as a kiss or hug, and sometimes if Sherlock was feeling brave enough they would cuddle up before going to bed. John struggled sometimes, but he didn’t mind. He understood the crazy detective- or at least he did. This was far colder than the other usually was. 
          
          “Sherlock?” John looked around the flat, deciding that he was going to talk to Sherlock about this. They’d promised each other that they would speak about the things that bothered them, no matter how uncomfortable it made them. So, that’s what John intended to do; talk.

adamnedsoldier

@lNTELLECTUS ;
            
             John watched Sherlock with an amused smirk, setting his hands behind him so he could lean back. His brow shoot up and he tilted his head when the bug was bought over. “Henry? Where did you get that name from?” He furrowed his brows and looked down at the critter just watching it for a while trying to comprehend what was so fascinating about it. “Hello- Henry. Um- hm, nice to meet you?” John said with a slightly confused tone, wondering why he was entertaining the idea that the bug could understand anything. He didn’t picture a bug being the first pet the pair would have together, he’d always thought a cat or a fish.
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lNTELLECTUS

@adamnedsoldier 
            
            He listened, and was somewhat surprised Harry had gone into a serious relationship at such a young age. Sherlock had just started cutting up cadavers at that age. He turned when John mentioned the bug, and he quickly moved to collect it in his hands. 
            
            "Henry, you can't run away. I'm trying to be nice to you, I'll get you water and some leaves in a moment." He walked over to John and held the beetle near him, "John, Henry. Henry, John. This is my boyfriend, Henry. He's quite pretty, isn't he?"
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adamnedsoldier

@lNTELLECTUS ;
            
            “Of course not, love. I was nineteen when I had my first serious relationship. Harriet was sixteen. Everyone goes through life differently and that’s okay. It makes us all unique.” John hummed, peering around Sherlocks shoulder. “Um, love, I think your beetle is trying to escape.” John furrowed his brows as he watched the bug Sherlock was enticed with scuttle closer to the edge of the table.
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TheFatalWoman

this message may be offensive 
"This is ridiculous," Lorna snarled as she slammed the car door shut and took a deep breath, blinking as it started raining.
          She looked up frustrated, and muttered. "Fuck... this..."
          She finally turned and just let the rain drench her, to tired and annoyed to be dealing with this especially after everything... 
          She leant against the BMW, and just ran her fingers through her hair which was progressively getting soaked as the rain thundered down on her now.

TheFatalWoman

@lNTELLECTUS 
            
            /* hiii
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TheFatalWoman

@lNTELLECTUS 
            
            /* all good ❤️ 
            
            Lorna looked up surprised when he mentioned the server was crying and looked towards the coffee machine. "Oh... I hope she's okay..." then she looked back at the male for a moment. "So, if I go to give them my keys and come back, you'll still be here?" She asked in amusement.
            
            Lorna picked up her purse and rustled through it and grabbed her keys, watching him for a moment, pursing her lips. "No, I think you'll stay," and she rushed out the door. 
            
            Soon, Lorna returned, freshly wet and took a deep breath. "Oh, I really need that coffee now..."
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lNTELLECTUS

@TheFatalWoman 
            
            Whether it was noble or not never bothered him. It was a case of love, sentiment. That horrible little thing that made Sherlock so vulnerable. He had gotten used to it. That vulnerability. How very human of him.
            
            "Thank you," it was all he could manage to say. He wanted to be clever about it, witty, but no. It just hurt. He wanted to reach over, touch her hand, do the human thing. But he stayed put. Kept his hands where they were. 
            
            He looked around the café while she spoke, then returned his gaze to her when she pushed the phone toward him. He took it in hand then stowed it in his pocket again. "It'll be here in a moment, the server was crying while we spoke." He observed absentmindedly, then looked over at her, tilted his head, curious how she'd react.
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posiemunds

“ sherlock , you’ll never believe it ! dad grounded me for two weeks and took away my morgue visits with you for a / month / — so unfair ! ”

lNTELLECTUS

@adamnedsoldier / i knowww i love this
            @posiemunds
            
            "She did deserve it, I don't argue that," he murmured. He hummed softly when she gave him a squeeze, then dropped his head a little to rest his nose against her hair. He did love this little terror. "Oh, I know, dear," he chuckled softly and leaned back, tucking stray strands of hair behind her ear, "don't tell your father, but I'm very proud of you. I'd even take you for a treat if John wouldn't find out somehow. He always does, doesn't he?"
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adamnedsoldier

/ don’t mind me stalking yall but this is so cute my little beans
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posiemunds

“ yeah , well — she deserved it ,”  rosamund grumbles , but her upset demeanor softens as sherlock kisses her forehead . her arms wrap around his lanky form , giving him a gentle squeeze as she presses her face against his chest . “ she finally pushed me past the point of being / civil / and it just slipped out .  you know i’m a nice young lady ! ”
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