I've Been Drinking It Sometimes And I Actually Quite Like It! :D Of Course I'm Biased About Things That

Little Connor has finally gotten his hair after months of waiting and I could finally attach his LED as well :D

I must've messed up while counting the length of some of his hairstrands, that's why his hair is such a mess, but he's my very first crochet project so he's very much allowed to have that🙂‍↕️

Now for his jacket👀🦫

WIP for my portfolio :] I know they said I shouldn't add too much fanart, but I'm supposed to include something that explores color so when I got this idea paired with motivation, due to (apparently) just having gained a new obsession, how do you expect me to resist?😔

I'm gonna slap him onto a collage that I'm still trying to figure out tomorrow 🫡

I want everyone here to know that Boimler referenced Moriarty in the Lower Decks mobile game🧍

I missed my chance to take a screenshot though because I tried to hold the screen since I forgot that I just don't have to touch the screen at all for this part of the dialogue to stay, so the dialogue went on and I didn't take a screenshot now😔

This is how I see John and Sherlock btw, doesn’t really matter which version, they’re blurring the lines between platonic and romantic in a way that makes what they have so very wholesome

really love dynamics that are like 'it honestly doesn't matter if you view them as romantic or platonic, the point is that they love each other. the type of love is inconsequential, all that matters is that it's there'. gotta be one of my favorite genders.

Hey look, that one's mine and @watsons-busted-kneecap 's! :D

Concussion at 221B

by @watsons-busted-kneecap and @anerdynerd

[Sherlock’s POV]

I had spent the morning “chilling” on the couch, as John and Mrs. Hudson would put it, with some marshmallow tea in hand and yesterday’s case to reflect on. It had admittedly been quite the challenge to get behind, but once we had discovered that Mr. Verner Vogel was lying, it all had come together nicely. I grinned at the thought of this adventure. It was so obvious looking back on it: The poison was hidden inside the pen, his brother had never even arrived at the scene and the poster was just a distraction. Of course we hadn’t gotten away without a few scratches here and there during the chase, but John had taken a look at us and declared that there was nothing to worry about. I would keep an eye on my scuffed up knee anyway. Not that I didn’t trust John‘s conclusions, but keeping an eye on the development of smaller wounds like this one might prove to be interesting. Or perhaps I would forget about it within two days, who knew.

I heard John‘s door open widely. That was odd, usually my roommate would only push it as far as he needed to to get through somewhat comfortably. I presumed that there must have been some sort of news that he hadn’t told us about yet, hence the change in behaviour. I took a sip of my tea, making sure to catch some of the marshmallows that had started to form a bit of a chunk inside the cup, before turning around to greet my morning grump of a roommate.

I was… confused when I saw him. Something about him threw me off, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Was it his posture? His expression? His even bigger lack of energy than usual? I tried to find a way into our conversation. Would ‘Up early, are you?‘ do the trick? Maybe too confrontational for the weirdly cold, almost hostile mood that was spreading throughout the room… What had I missed?

I landed on “Good morning, Doctor.” instead. Safe enough as it was neutral, but could hopefully be read as as friendly as I intended it to. John just threw an annoyed, accusing look back at me. Alright… That was weird. “Is something wro-“, before I could finish my sentence, John had already cut me off:

“Oh, what gave me away?”, he sounded irritated, “‘Is something wrong??’ Who was that this morning?! And why was I accosted by Jack Bower or bloody Jason Bourne in my own flat??”

“…What?”, I replied. Nobody had been in our flat all night. I was sure of it because I had had a rather light sleep and had been awake until 4am practicing the violin anyway. “There were no ‘Jack Bower’ or ‘Jason Bourne’ here tonight, Watson, I’m not sure who or what you’re referring to.”

[John’s POV]

“Yes of course there were, I was DRAGGED OUT OF THE ROOM!”, I couldn’t believe this guy. Was he gonna act like none of last night had ever happened? God, I was sorry, Stammo, but I didn’t think I’d be able to live with this man any longer. I’d just need to find a new apartment with manageable rent… in London….

Alright, okay, nevermind, I’d need to think about that later, right now I was a bit too distracted by my for-now-roommate looking genuinely puzzled. At least I thought it was genuine... Couldn’t really tell with this guy.

He hummed weirdly concernedly. “The last time I recall you getting dragged out of this exact room would be when Mrs. Hudson had to forcefully keep you from walking into your own surprise birthday party.” He had placed his hand on his chin now while mumbling about some stuff. This guy seemed to be going through a whole LIST of occasions where that had supposedly happened. What on Earth??

“Woah, okay, slow down there, mate! I’ve only been here for a day. Do people get dragged out of this room so often that you can’t even remember which time was me? Especially when it was just LAST NIGHT?!” Aaaand now his eyebrows furrowed even deeper. “Ah.”, he said, “You’re talking about the incident on our first night here, when Barack Obama had come to thank me personally and you walked into the room unexpectedly, aren’t you, Doctor?” Wha- Barack Obama?? This wasn’t making any sense. “What the hell do you mean, Barack Obama came here?!”

“Well-“, he sighed, clearly struggling to explain himself. “You know this already, Watson. I’m not sure why you’re so confused about something that happened a year ago-“, his eyes widened a bit and he shifted forwards, “Oh- Hey- Careful!” He grabbed my shoulders to stabilize me. I had started to lose my balance. I groaned, trying to get back on my feet and waving at his hands to let go of me. He looked.. a bit hurt? I dunno, I was too busy NOT falling over, but I could swear I saw some sort of realizing look on his face. I was still trying not to let the headache sweep me off my feet, when a voice I couldn’t quite pinpoint popped up at the flat door, which was suddenly creaking open and closed.

“Hey, guys! I’ve finished walking Archie, so you can have him back now.” A woman came in, taking her jacket off and letting a dog loose as if it was completely natural for her to be here. I just looked at her startledly as she went on: “I’ve got an idea for our karaoke night! If you want, we could-“

She was looking past me at my roommate now. I could see that he had gritted his teeth when I turned around to face him too. Wasn’t she the person from Hudson’s though? Why would she have a karaoke night with Sherlock and- WAIT A SECOND WHAT WAS ARCHIE DOING HERE?!

My own bulldog, that was supposed to be MILES away by the way, was sniffing my legs now. I couldn’t help but scratch his head dumbfoundedly, because what the hell was even going on anymore.

“About that.”, Sherlock replied to.. what was her name? Mmmmar.. Martha? No, wait, Mmmariana? I thought? Maybe? Yeah I was pretty sure. I just hoped I was right too. He continued: “We might have to change those plans.”

[Sherlock’s POV]

I inspected John carefully. So far we knew that he was having problems with his balance, confusing the time of events and that his behavior was off. Way off, actually. His eyes were staring blankly at the floor again right now and he seemed to not even bother processing Mrs. Hudson’s arrival. He was visibly speechless. Doctor John Watson had been speechless countless times before, but in a way where he would attempt to express that fact very clearly, by… speaking about how speechless he was. This time was different. He was actually struggling to respond to this situation.

Now the problem at hand was that there was nothing obvious to be struggling with about this scene. It was a fairly normal morning: I was in the flat, Mrs. Hudson had just come back from the park and Archie was enjoying the petting session that Watson was giving him seemingly absent-mindedly. Nothing too irritating or irrational had happened, there had been no triggers for his PTSD, none that I knew of anyway. But John had hit his head pretty harshly on the handrail of a staircase during the chase of our case yesterday. He had denied that it was still hurting when he was taking care of our scratches last evening, but he’d squinted his eyes and gone to bed soon after.

I realized when he had almost fallen over and I needed to inform Mrs. Hudson as soon as possible: “John is suffering a concussion.” “Wait, whaaa”, was to be heard from my side, his voice was fading out slurringly at the end, but he continued petting Archie, most likely for comfort. Yes, definitely a concussion. Mrs. Hudson shot me an aghast look first and then proceeded to take a step towards Watson, putting her hand on his back and watching him concernedly. That seemed to snap him back into the here and now, as he turned his head quickly to look at her bewilderedly. Before she could say anything, he finally started speaking again:

“Who- I’m sorry, what is going on? Why were you, Sherlock, planning to have a karaoke night with the person from the estate agency? And uhh- I- I just,, really. Don’t have a clue about what concussion you could be talking about, I mean I feel fi- ohhhh my god I do have a headache.”, my dear friend stated, as if he had just noticed it. “Yup, that’s… That might actually be a concussion, the symptoms are there.”, he admitted and went on to list all the signs I had already noticed: “I- I’ve got the headache, I’ve got problems balancing myself, I’m just- genuinely VERY confused right now, my speech is slurring a bit and if I’m gonna be honest, I am feeling a bit nauseous, oh god.” A pained expression made its way across his face.

Mrs. Hudson put her other hand on his arms which were hanging loosely now that Archie had gone into my direction to drink out of his bowl.

“Do you… not remember my name?”, she asked and only now could I see how widely her eyes were opened in worry. Ahh that was right, he had only called her ‘the person from the estate agency’ and did not appear to recall our connection.

“Uhh”, Watson looked at her hand holding his arm without understanding. “Well it’s Mariana, isn’t it?” Mrs. Hudson’s shoulders rested slightly in response, but that seemingly didn’t satisfy her, so she continued to ask: “And do you remember me?”

“Mmm well yeah you’re the estate agent as I said.” Her mouth was opening for a response, but I decided it was best to do this short and simple: “Watson, what date do you think it is?” His hand wandered to his face to brush frustratedly over it from the forehead to the chin. “Uhhh ffff somewhen.. October 2023?” I had thought as much, but it still stung to hear.

“And there we have it. Memory loss. Another sign of a concussion, as I’m sure you know, Doctor. Why did it have to be so extensive in your case…”, I sighed before Mrs. Hudson picked up the plan that we were most likely all thinking about, as she grabbed the keys to the apartment that were lying on the sideboard and determined:

“John, we have got to get you to a hospital.”

[Mariana’s POV]

It felt very strange to sit next to someone who didn’t remember me. It had already been awkward to stand outside, trying to catch a free taxi, but this was somehow worse. Whenever I looked at John, I could see all the memories we had made as a friend group: The movie nights, the walks in the park, the endless talks and of course the constant cases to manage and solve. But he did not see that anymore. The only mental picture he had left of me was from when I was still working at a job I barely even enjoyed and wasn’t sure what to do if I couldn’t stay in the UK. The houses outside were flying past the taxi windows whenever we weren’t standing at a red light, which honestly took up a lot of the time. I kept catching myself glancing over at John, as if he’d suddenly start looking back at us the same again. Instead, his eyes were jumping around the car whenever they weren’t frozen on the floor. He seemed guilty. I got so stuck on watching him repeatedly fiddle with his legs that I almost jumped when he lifted his head and started talking.

“So what date is it actually then?” He looked over at me. Oh gosh, had he noticed me staring? That caught me off-guard. “Sorry?” “Well apparently it’s not October 2023 anymore, so uhh”, he chuckled nervously. “How much time did I miss? Or, well, forget?” Oh boy, how would I tell him this… I tried to make eye contact with Sherlock for help, but he was only staring straight out of the front window, maybe occasionally keeping an eye on whether our driver was actually taking the fastest route possible. Great, I’d do this by myself then. “Well, it is October…”, I started, just leaving a slightly too long pause because I wasn’t sure how to do this sensibly, but unfortunately that led John to jump in: “Oh so not even a month then?”, oh no, he was looking so relieved, “Oh that’s great! You know, I already thought I’d have missed a lot, but-“ “2024”, I squinted while saying that. I really didn’t mean to get his hopes up like that oh my gosh that felt terrible. John’s shoulders that had relaxed just a moment ago were tensing up again and the lighthearted mood that had overcome him froze in the air and turned into something else.

“October 2024?”, he breathed out. I couldn’t do this. “But that’s a whole year! I can’t just… have forgotten a whole year because of a concussion! I mean, obviously, I.. did… but that’s just so much. I-“ He put his hands up to his face, as if he was trying to wipe something away from it. “I just can’t believe it. I forgot. I forgot. A whole year.” I didn’t know what else to do so I just put my arm around his shoulders and tried my best to comfort him. “It’s gonna be okay, John, we’re here for you and while this might be a really weird situation for you - for all of us - right now, I mean you don’t even really know Sherlock and me anymore, which is just crazy”, I laughed bitterly, “I mean, I guess what I am trying to say here is: We’re your friends and we’ll be sticking by your side, no matter what. So don’t even go a second thinking you’re alone in this, okay?” John seemed to appreciate it, judging by the painfully apologetic grin he was giving me now.

“Thank you.”, he said, turning his face away from me.

[John‘s POV]

I didn’t stay quiet for too long, I honestly just didn’t want to. I wanted to believe her that I wasn‘t alone here, so I tried my best to keep the conversation going. “So what’s our deal then? The three of us, I mean.” I had been wondering about that anyway. “What makes a war vet with a podcast - or well, a mic so far, but I’m getting there -, a guy who apparently gets visited by Obama at 3am and their estate agent come together and form a friend group?” I was asking this fairly openly into the car, I didn’t mind getting an answer from either of my sides as I had been squeezed into the middle. Even the damn cabbie could’ve answered me for all I cared. Not that I didn’t care, quite the opposite actually, but I was just getting really desperate to finally learn more about my connection to these two. I had woken up, not knowing why everything around me felt so weird and now these two people that I only recognized as basically strangers were openly concerned about me and getting me to a hospital because of a concussion. Curiosity was mixing itself into my nervosity and made my legs shake even more.

“Your podcast.”, Sherlock had finally spoken up to answer oh thank god. “That’s what made us come together and form a team.” “What, my podcast?”, I wasn’t expecting that to be honest. I had been planning to use it for war vets, so I wasn’t sure what exactly could make these guys befriend me in connection to that. Then again, I had been pretty flexible about what this podcast could’ve been about, so maybe they had found a bit of a different topic to talk about. “Yes, our true crime podcast. You and I are usually the ones to go and solve the cases together. Mrs. Hudson does the managing for that matter.” “What- TRUE CRIME?!”, I almost choked on my own spit. “You don’t like it?”, that was the first time Sherlock glanced at me again instead of staring at the cabbie’s screen. “I mean it’s just unexpected, that’s all. I don’t really have any experience with uhhh criminology? So that just sounds a bit random.”, I laughed in disbelief and muttered: “Sounds exciting though…”

“We’re here!”, the cab stopped at the side of the road and Mariana tapped around on the buttons of the credit card device to pay. Sherlock and I climbed out of the door in the meantime. St. Bart’s Hospital was standing tall in front of us. Sherlock pushed my back towards the ER entrance. “Woah- Hey! Shouldn’t we go to the urgent care instead? I feel fine, I don’t think I need to take up the services of the ER, they’ve got more important injuries to care for.” I got a look back from him that I couldn’t quite read. My headache had been flaring up, but I would be fine! Just needed a bit of ice, that was all. “Doctor, listen to me!”, he turned around, grabbed me by the shoulders for the second time that day and stared into my eyes determinedly. “You just nearly fell out of the car, you’re experiencing a heavier headache than earlier judging by your expression, you cannot remember the last year that we had spent together and I will not risk us missing a deeper level to this injury again. You misjudged the severity of your concussion yesterday already and I would much rather be safe than sorry in terms of your health.”

“Kind of ironic coming from you.”, Mariana had joined us on the sidewalk, but she only got a disapproving glance back from Sherlock. “But that doesn’t mean that Sherlock is wrong at all.”, she said, now also turning her full attention to me, “John, you should have been to the ER yesterday already. You’ve got a medical license. You should be the one reminding us how important it is to make sure it’s not worse than you suspect.” I was gonna say something, but Sherlock had already gotten behind me and started pushing me towards the ER. “Chop chop, off you go. To the emergency room!” “Sherlock, I can walk alone.” I went a little faster to free my back. “Sure you can.” He let me walk alone by myself now, but I could tell he was still walking close behind me to make sure I’d actually follow their advice. It felt weird to be forcefully cared for, but I didn’t really mind. It was nice to know that I apparently had friends who would ensure my safety as much as I would for them. …But I still didn’t like going to the ER.

The white lights of the hallway shined on us painfully brightly, so I was a bit too distracted to notice the old lady nurse that was already running at us. My attention only swung over to her when I could hear a booming “You three again! What is it this time, another bloody case?!” That made me stumble back a bit. “I- uhh.” We hadn’t even gotten to the reception! “Watson here is experiencing a concussion.” Luckily Sherlock had taken on the job of speaking for me while I was still a bit perplexed. How often did we come here for the staff to react like that?? “So if you could tune down the volume a little, I’m sure his heightened sensitivity to noise would appreciate it.”, he continued quite snarkily. Was that just how he’d act around every stranger or had we gotten to know this specific nurse over the past year? Based on what I knew about Sherlock and our apparently regular visits to the ER I figured it’d be a mix of both.

The nurse didn’t seem impressed, but went on to do her job anyway. “Alright, Dr. Watson, what are your symptoms?” She lead us straight to the nearest exam room while I was listing what we had gathered and trying not to trip. She determined that it should be temporary, as most concussions were, but that they needed to run an MRI scan in order to properly assess my situation. At that point, it all felt like a blur. Neither the sounds of the MRI nor the bloody hurtful light situation of this hospital were doing my pulsing head any favors. When I had come back from the scan, our nurse Gertrude told me to wait until the doctor would come for the evaluation of my results.

“Mrs. Hudson went to get you some ice.”, Sherlock, who was sitting on one of the plastic chairs beside me, told me. “Ah okay.”, was all I could bring up. I was dizzy and the whiteness of this hospital room wasn’t making it any better. I still couldn’t quite believe that this was really happening, it was just so absurd. It felt like I had time traveled, but not in a cool way like in Doctor Who or Back To The Future and more like as if the whole world had gone on without me and now I was back and couldn’t really immediately connect with what I saw. Huh. That was kind of like that other part of Back To The Future, just… better, I supposed. Because what I was seeing here wasn’t some messed up version of reality where the wrong person had gotten the betting numbers, this was… actually kind of nice. If only I hadn’t gone and hit my head for some stupid reason, I wouldn’t be having trouble keeping my eyes open right now.

I didn’t wanna let those thoughts linger for much longer, so I decided to pass the time through conversation with my new friend. “You’re still calling her that then?” I was met with a questioning look by Sherlock.

“Mariana.”, I clarified, “You’re still calling her Mrs. Hudson.”

Understanding made its way across his face. “Ah. Yes.”, but then he quickly changed his mind, “I mean- I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Is that a joking tone I’m hearing? Are you a jokester, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?”, I surprisedly poked fun at him. He shot me a knowing glance and I swore I could see his lips curve up a little. “I have been told that I can be rather amusing at times.” Was that a half-joking tone?? “But I’m still not sure what you’re referring to, Dr. Watson.” Oh yeah, I was starting to see why I liked hanging out with this guy, this was fun! “Welp, I’m guessing that’s just your thing then, huh? Alright, I’ll leave it be.”, I lifted up my hands in playful defeat and laughed to myself, before Mariana came back with some packaged ice.

She sat down on the plastic chair to my right after handing the bundle of sweet release to me. “Here you go. Fresh ice for your head.” “Thank you very much, Mariana, ohhh that is so good.” The touch of the cool package against my throbbing head wasn’t exactly relieving, but it was so much better than going on without it. We only had to wait a couple of minutes, which Sherlock and Mariana could easily fill with some friendly banter, until a doctor came in.

“So, John Watson.” He entered the room, looking through a clipboard full of info that he’d be sharing with me any minute now. Oh god, I was getting more nervous than I thought. My leg was getting very hard to hold still again. “I’ve got your results right here. There’s no need to worry, the memory loss and confusion will usually clear off after a while. In your state, it might only take a few days until you’re fine!” He went on to tell us about statistics on the average recovery and all the usual procedures to reassure your patient that everything was gonna be okay. I knew the drill. I had been taught to do the same. It just kind of sucked to know which phrases were empty. And hell there were a lot of them. I thought it was more likely that I’d need a few weeks to be the same again. But I also knew that the goal of this was to calm the patient down for no extra complications, so I tried my British best to keep calm and carry on. My concussed mind couldn’t focus on anything he was saying for long anyway. His stupid, patronizing way of talking made me want to get up and leave more than anything.

By the time we finally got to the bit that would actually be helpful to listen to - the instructions - I had given up on holding my leg still. “Now, I’m going to prescribe you some paracetamol. Make sure to take an appropriate dosage to keep your headache down. And it’s very important that you listen to this next part: You need rest. Please avoid activities that require a lot of thinking and concentrating! That includes things like your phone, reading, watching TV and also:” He looked over at Sherlock now. “Your cases. No going around and solving murders for your little podcast. And if you must, then go by yourself, but please keep Dr. Watson out of this until his symptoms have cleared. Not until he says he feels fine. But until he actually is back at a healthy state again. I know what doctors are like when it comes to their own treatments. Understood?” Sherlock looked like he wanted to protest but forced himself to nod with a clenched jaw instead. The doctor looked at me and Mariana for confirmation too and we both agreed verbally. Then, he finally left. And all the stress that had been building up until now was still there.

Great, so now I wouldn’t be able to do anything fun for a while. Of course I had known this was coming, but god it just wasn’t fair. The day was barely half over and I wanted nothing more than to go home and feel normal. To stop being so caught up in how sensible I was to everything right now. To never have to see that absolute arse of a doctor again, who I was pretty sure was probably just trying to do his job, but his tone was just so goddamn annoying, there had to be some sort of core arrogance in this guy, honestly. But first and foremost: I wanted to bloody remember. To not feel like a stranger within what was apparently my own world. Damnit I was so close to throwing up out of frustration, I didn’t know what to do.

[Sherlock’s POV]

Solving cases alone certainly wasn’t gonna be as stimulating as it was with Watson by my side, but I was sure I’d be able to manage until he’d be feeling better, somehow. I had something else to worry about right now. We were all sitting still, almost frozen, after the doctor had left. I was focused on John, his face specifically. If it hadn’t already been obvious by his trembling leg, I would have still seen the distress in his features rather clearly. His irises were fixed on a random point at the desk, his teeth were clenched and his left eyebrow was twitching ever so slightly - those were typical signs for him being stressed. That, mixed with his uneasy posture and the severely uncomfortable surroundings of an emergency examination room couldn’t have made it any more obvious: John needed consolation.

And there couldn’t have been a worse man to ask for that task than me. Quieting a cacophonous mind wasn’t exactly my specialty... At least I thought so at first, but as I kept turning this issue over in my head, I realized that I had been taught everything I needed to know by the very people that were sitting beside me. I may not have been great at finding comforting words for others as they often came out wrong, but I knew the act of physical reassurance that would hopefully deliver the message I was trying to convey and not require any words from me.

I stood up, took position in front of my dear friends and widened my arms. That seemed to be enough to let John’s eyes detach from the desk and look at me questioningly. Mrs. Hudson also didn’t catch the cue right away, so I decided to help out with a verbal clarification: “I am inviting you to a hug. Both of you, to be clear.” John’s mouth opened and closed. Was that a good sign or a bad sign? “I may not exactly be a champion of comfort, but I thought-“ I did not get to finish that sentence, as John had already sprung up from his seat and was pressing himself against me - quite frankly more tightly than I had thought he would - and it didn’t take a second longer until Mrs. Hudson had gotten up from her chair and joined in on the hug as well. I had to admit that this was a quite stress-relieving embrace for the most part. And John’s more relaxed posture around my shoulders reassured me that it was helping him too.

After a while, Mrs. Hudson picked up the verbal part of consolation: “John?”, she said. A muffled “Hmmpf?” was to be heard from my shoulder. It was strange how much comfort our hug seemed to bring to him despite his pitted memory. “I just want to make sure you don’t forget that we’re here with you, okay? I know I’ve said this in the car already, but I also know how easily truths like that can leave our mind if we’re not constantly reminded of it.” She was stifling some sobs. John pulled up his head to look at her with a tremulous smile. “Hey it’s okay. I uhm… I know we’re gonna figure this out together. Thank you.” I could hear his voice getting weaker, he might have had to cry soon too, as the last part of his sentence was almost a whisper. I got the impression that he had needed to say this fact out loud in order to really believe it himself. And in that moment, I felt a flicker of hope. John was finding comfort in our words, in our embrace! The memories may have been missing, but the emotional connection was there somewhere in his subconscious. He was feeling safe enough to cry around us, for god‘s sake, that held colossal meaning, considering how much we must have had dug up already within these short hours for him to be feeling that connection again. The sensation of him and Mrs. Hudson melting in my arms was reaching my heart with its warmth and gave me the sense that possibly, we were going to be okay, as John may have already gotten a monumental portion of himself back. He was here. He was safe. And soon enough, he‘d be happy again.

____________

Check it out on AO3 too!

Sketched some characters/scenes from the play “Sherlock Holmes: Der Fall Moriarty” (The Case Moriarty) that I got to watch live today on my way home from there, Toby was a balloon dog, it was brilliant😭

mild lower decks spoilers since they only mentioned these things on the side lines too

What do you mean "that time we met ourselves in a cave and we thought they were us from the future and then it turned out they were aliens and then it turned out they were actually us"?? I wanna WATCH that kind of episode

it's similar to them going "Oh yeah, remember when we swapped bodies? That was total chaos" WHAT DO YOU MEAN; THAT'S EXACTLY THE KIND OF STUFF I WANNA WATCH AND YOU'RE JUST MENTIONING IT ON THE SIDELINES??😭/lh

Has anyone done this trend with McSpirk yet?

I just listened to the first episode of Sherlock & Co. again and Stamford doesn't warn him here either😭

Though the difference is that John instantly knew that this wasn't gonna be normal because the first time he sees Sherlock he is bleeding. On a treadmill. Because he's doing an experiment on himself. So while Stammo hasn't warned him here either, at least John could throw out his expectations of any normal conversation himself, before being "mouth-doxxed" as @valhallassoundbox put it, since that's a much less normal start to meeting someone than the person just innocently asking for someone's phone lmao

Buuut Stammo still let John walk into this room unprepared for what Sherlock was up to, although to be fair he couldn't have known that *that* was gonna be what Sherlock was doing either, but he probably knew that there was a chance it was gonna be something like that

I just find it funny how Stamford seemingly did NOT mention to John that Sherlock would know everything about him the moment he’d walk in there. He did not know that he was instantly gonna be able to tell him everything about himself as if he had just finished copy and pasting a Wikipedia article about Watson directly into his verbal drive

Instead of warning him Stamford was just like “Can’t wait to see your reaction, it’s better when you experience it first-hand without spoilers lmao” and decided to let John walk into that room completely unprepared for what he was in for lol

John thought this was gonna be a relatively normal conversation

Sketched something up for you cause I really liked the idea, I hope these are fine👀

I mean come on, Jayce's journal? Thats such a cool prop to make🦫

Let me know if you need them formatted differently or if there's anything you'd like me to add or change lol I was in the mood for some Viktor sketching yesterday🫡

Working on making Jayces journal as a cosplay prop. Anybody wanna send me Viktor art to print out and put in there? Like it would be really cute for photos if the drawings were visible in the journal. but honestly I suck at drawing…