holmes-watson

aging; is the taste of popsicle, sliding down your lips as it melts in your mouth is the feel of sweaty palms, beating heart as he tentatively grabbed your hand is the sight of him walking away, gathering a collection of tears at the corner of your eye is the smell of the blood, easing the knife in as the metallic smell burns your nose is the sound of silence, no comforting voice whispering in your ear

i. lazy nights spent together soft kisses to the corner of your lips murmured declarations of love idly wandering fingertips ii. rage tainting the air harsh words spoken fire blazing in his eyes all trust is broken iii. endless waiting tears hitting the floor a river of regret eternally watching the door iv. a slight noise outside your heart flutters in he tiptoes ‘i love you,’ he mutters

to the saints, the sinners, the in between the harlots, the innocents, those just shy of eighteen your life is gone, leave it behind, for it matters no longer, just like all of mankind the darkness is your friend, treat it as such there is no more pining for any other touch shadows embrace you at every corner, weeping and wailing in the manner of a mourner the sounds and the sights will become the norm, all will be a blur prior to taking this form just accept your fate quickly, for it’s clear, only the ghouls you deserve lurk here welcome to the madhouse, enjoy your stay (you’ll never be able to get away)

-Help me I'm drowning And slipping And falling Into a pool of light -Save me I'm tripping And faltering And stumbling Into a unforgiving chasm -Forgive me I'm betraying And denying And lying Into a meaningless rut -Leave me I'm sinning And wanting And waiting For things that don't exist -Be proud of me I'm trying And empathizing And helping To be a better person -Remember me I'm loving And caring And acknowledging Only for you -Bury me I'm dying And stopping And leaving Because it's all so dull.

"Sherlock." "Sherlock, wake up. It's nearly nighttime, and it's Christmas." John protested, cursing whatever possessed Sherlock to decide today was the day he'd actually sleep. "Dull." Sherlock retorted, and turned away from John, so his face was turned towards the couch. "Sherlock. Please?" John said, trying to stay patient with his impossible flatmate. Sherlock replied in a half-teasing, half-snarky manner "Make me, John." John smirked, and turned Sherlock's head. He leaned forward, and Sherlock didn't react, already having deduced this would happen. Suddenly, when John was nearly an inch from Sherlock's lips, he whispered "There's ki

            If you know anything about John Watson, other than the fact that he's always with a certain Mr. Sherlock Holmes, it's that he has a blog.  This blog documents his "adventures" with Sherlock, one could say, and most of the writing in it originally comes from the Little. Leather. Book.          Don't tell me you haven't noticed it—the book John has whenever they're on a case, the one he always scribbles in while they interview people? Yeah. That one. It's not just filled with random tidbits from the case, it's almost a diary of sorts, by now.           This is your look into John's life before the book's full content is dis

On The Outside What is the character's full name? Nickname? Her name is Molli Lynn Alekson, and she has no (nice) nicknames to speak of. What is the character? A person? An animal? Something else? Molli is an Enchanted Super-Vamp. Witch mother, superhero father, got bit by a vampire at sixteen. Author's Note: Ugh, I know it sounds Mary-Sue, but it's actually much more of a burden than an advantage. Plus, I made this character four years ago, and I'm not in the mood to change her up now. How old is the character? What is their birth date? What is their sign? What age do they seem to be? She's actually 170 years old, and she was born