Hello! My name is Macey but some people call me Penworthy. Thanks for coming by! I blog about Sherlock, The Lorax (especially a fellow called the Once-Ler), South Park, MLP, Supernatural, Homestuck, Glee, Doctor Who, Marble Hornets/The Slenderverse, Good Omens, feminism, and my random flailings of thoughts. I am thirteen years old. You might also see some fanfic/fandom stuff, or boxes that have flowers in them. If you decide to stay, thanks for the follow! If not, so long and thanks for all the fish.
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
A Study in Pink » The Reichenbach Fall
Oh god this show ..my feels
wh Y IS A SHOW EVEN ALLOWED TO BE LIKE THIS
help what am i doing
(Source: sarahxmay)
it’s a trick. it’s just a magic trick.
(Source: fairgroundsoldier)
Sherlock AU: Sherlock as a fairy tale
“Fairy tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.” G. K. Chesterton
VINETTE. YOUR SUBTLE BUT BEAUTIFUL FRECKLES. DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND THE FEELS I’M HAVING.
I think I’m in love. Nay, I know I’m in love.
oh man OH MAN DON’T READ THROUGH THE COMMENTS ON THAT ELEMENTARY PHOTOSET YOU’LL PROBABLY LOSE A FEW BRAIN CELLS
“COPYCATS!!!! HE’S WEARING A SCARF” so is the man behind him i mean so what honestly have you been to new york i heard it’s cold there
“COPYCATS!!!! HE’S GOT A PHONE IN HIS HAND” i’m sorry i didn’t realise mordern sherlock would mean they’re in the 1800s when everyone didn’t have a phone glued to their hand
“LOOK AT THE WAY HE’S WEARING HIS SCARF!! REMIND YOU OF SOMEONE??????” if you google men wearing scarves you will find that that is the popular way for men to tie their scarves they must all be copying sherlock then??
bbc sherlock does not own scarves or pea coats and bbc sherlock holmes is not the only person in the world who uses a cell phone okay and don’t give me that crap about cbs sherlock not looking like sherlock because bbc sherlock doesn’t look like sherlock either have you seen acd’s version of sherlock he wasn’t some curly, dark haired god okay OKAY????
also keep in mind that they obviously don’t have very many, i.e. one, modern sherlock adaptations to go off of so give them a little slack okay
and if you want to see a terrible adaptation of sherlock holmes watch the 2010 version directed by rachael goldenberg i promise you there will never be an adaptation worse than that
so talk to the hand cause the wrist is pissed
okay first of all, i agree with all of this ^^^
second of all, i saw someone flipping their shit about how lucy liu is wearing “a knit jumper” and how it’s totally a ripoff of bcc sherlock
because obviously martin freeman’s john is the only character in the history of cinema to wear fucking sweaters
OBVIOUSLY
hey
hey you
let’s go down the checklist of terrible things shall we
my heart doesn’t race when you touch me
livestream sketch for credence
“Sherlock ?”
The light eyes stayed fixed in the void, staring at nothing.
Mycroft leaned over his right shoulder from behind the wheelchair. He tried again, louder.
“Sherlock ?”
The young man finally turned his head towards his brother, his eyes scanning his face. The elder noticed the knit of his brows as he searched in his so few memories.
“Yes.” he answered finally.
“We’re arrived, you can get up.”
Someone knocked at the door and a sandy haired head popped in the door frame.
“Hello.”
“Oh, hello John.” he said with a smile. “Just at the right moment.”
“Need to dash ? A new war to start, I suppose ?”
“Yes, I am fifteen minutes late already. Oh, you know me so well dear John.” He chuckled. “I leave him to you then, goodbye.”
It became a routine over the time, this joke, whenever they met here.
Mycroft reached for his coat, carefully folded on the back of the only armchair of the room then walked to the door.
“Bye.”
John was hanging up his own coat on the hook but let it drop on the floor. Mycroft turned on his heels, his face showing he clearly didn’t expect an answer. Not from his brother. Sherlock was dead to the world, locked in his own mind the major part of the time. The few rare moments when he chose to talk were the ones with John, the only person able to free the man from his stupor. He was far less responsive to Mycroft’s presence.
Sherlock’s eyes were fixed on his brother, gaze still a little distant though. Aknowledging someone else’s presence aside from John’s was something utterly new. Mycroft cleared his throat.
“Goodbye Sherlock.”
John smiled as the door closed behind the man of the government.
“Well, it’s a progress, isn’t it ?”
He walked towards the wheelchair where the detective was still sat. He stopped few steps away and held out his hands.
“Come on, get up Sherlock.” he said, encouraging.
The tall man slowly pushed himself from the back of the chair. John noticed that the tremor of his pale hands seemed to disappear gradually, with each passing day. A ghost of the man few weeks ago flashed before his eyes, paler and weaker. His members trembling. It took him five goes to finally get up and stand on his feet, unsteady. This time, Sherlock managed to stand up with less effort and in one try. After what he slowly made his way to the bed, with little steps, one after the other.
John hated how fragile he looked, how frail he was in this gown that was too large for him. He stayed near him, in case his legs gave out, lips pursed in a thin line.
“You seem in good form today.” he said with a soft smile while he made Sherlock turn around to sit on the edge of the bed.
The answer took some time to come, flat.
“Not really.”
“How so ?” John frowned, holding him with one arm around his waist. “Do you still have headaches ?”
Sherlock simply nodded and John began to rummage in the night stand’s drawer. He read that the next series of exams where scheduled in two days, mainly blood and endurance tests.
“I’ll try to see if they can add a brain scanner, just in case.” he said thoughtful, putting Sherlock’s medical file aside.
Mycroft had given him clearance to access it. He wasn’t a specialist, and it really wasn’t his role, but he was by far the closest person to the detective. If anyone had the ability, held the key to all these locked memories, it was him.
Sherlock was staring at his feet: one of his slippers fell on the floor and somehow it seemed to bother him. John couldn’t stand it, all of it. Sherlock Holmes wasn’t even a ghost of himself. He was a just a shell made of flesh, blood and bones and nothing else. He slid his arms around him and pulled him close, ducked his face his neck. All John wanted was Sherlock to be back. Nothing more. Just the friend, the insufferable flatmate, a man he loved. He grabbed the gown, the fabric crumpling in his hands.
At first, he was so focused on the pain stinging in his heart that he didn’t noticed it. But there was a hand petting his head, gently ruffling his hair. John pulled back: Sherlock’s gaze was focused on some undefined point in the room but it was the tall man who was reasurring him. It felt strange but John somehow found the strength he needed. He kneeled down and put the slipper back on Sherlock’s foot. There was hope.
“So how was the walk ?”
Sherlock frowned.
“Long. Dull.”
John smiled.AFEJKHGEK this is amazing and totally different from what I was thinking, but wow
;A; Oh Sherlock, I hope you get your memories back!!
Oh gosh. such an amazing interpretation. But also,
