Saw this written outside the movie theater.

Stay classy, Springfield.

(Source: thepaisleyelf)

Step 1) Listen to this song

Step 2) Think of John struggling to cope with Sherlock’s death

Step 3) Weep

It’s not that I’m not thankful

Or grateful for what we’ve grown

It’s not that I’m not living my life

All right on my own

I just feel the empty space

I just feel the wind blow through

I just thought in any case

I would always know you.

It’s not quite winter,

And it’s not quite fall

And even though it’s been a year

I cannot pass you by,

Not at all.

Could everyone send me their favorite Sherlock songs? 

(Either for Sherlock, John, particular episodes, or for John/Sherlock as a ship.)

I’m working on my epic, series-spanning fanmix for Emma, for her to listen to on her 12 hour flight to America in June! It’s also going to include an album booklet that describes the appropriate lyrics, which POV the song is from, etc. I AM DEDICATED TO MY ART OKAY

Also if anyone with graphic-making skills would like to make me some cover art, I will love you forever and ever.

I like to think that John makes Sherlock feel like he’s living a teenage dream  

YOU THINK I’M PRETTY

WITH MY PURPLE SEX SHIRT ON

YOU THINK I’M FUNNY

WHEN I GET EMOTIONS WRONG

I KNOW YOU GET ME

SO I LET MY WALLS COME DOWN

DOOOOOOOWN

Hey guys remember when there was that cartoon where Moriarty and Sherlock preserve themselves in honey and wake up in the 22nd century and fight each other but Watson is dead so Sherlock gets a Watson robot and also Lestrade’s hot female descendent is their sidekick?

Emma and I discuss possibilities for the fic I’m working on, wherein Sherlock tries to impress John by doing things that “normal” people do. Like go out dancing.

Some fic to ease the pain 

In which John is suspicious of Sherlock’s behavior, and general fluff ensues.

John Watson had just settled down on the park bench with his lunch and newspaper when his phone buzzed from somewhere within the depths of his pocket. It was a sound not unlike that of a disgruntled hornet, and about as welcome. He sighed because, well, he already knew what it was going to say, didn’t he, and he supposed it had been foolish to expect to have a quiet, uninterrupted afternoon. 

By the time he had folded up his newspaper and set it down beside him another text had come in. Pulling out his mobile, he read:

Please come at once. -SH

Emergency. -SH

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