I just can’t stop wondering how much we don’t know because we can’t hear it - because of sherlock & co being recorded.
how many times had john rolled his eyes at sherlock when he was being ridiculous, but smiled to himself the moment he turned around? how many times had mariana leaned in the doorway to 221b baker street and silently but fondly watched john and sherlock bickering? how many times sherlock just didn’t say anything when archie climbed on his lap and instead started to scratch behind the dog’s ears?
how many gentle smiles, cheeky grins and warm gazes with sparkling eyes? fingers touching one’s arm, hands on the shoulder or tight hugs? how much affection spread without words?
how much is being not said, left to imagination?
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you're welcome
the gloria scott has just properly and unapologetically annihilated me, I’ll be posting about it like my life depends on it as soon as I gather myself after whatever in hell was this
yeah so anyway I’ve heard a name victor trevor in the, what, first five minutes of the latest episode and I’m having heart palpitations ever since
John Watson saying you join me and my companion/colleague/friend/flat mate while the only thing I can think of is oh please cut the bullshit.
Companion is already the gayest word in existence and yet you want to salvage yourself by flat mate in a desperate try of not using roommate which is actually nothing more than just the second gayest word in existence and you and I both know it.
Who do you think you’re fooling John, my beloved sweet summer child, only yourself I’m afraid.
me, entering tumblr after listening to the cardboard box pt2, seeing I am just one of us fools thinking john and sherlock would pretend to be a swingers couple for a case, and knowing we’ve found our place in the world to be fools together:
Guys please tell me somebody recorded Take Me to Church during the last Hozier concert in Prague. It was absolutely amazing and heart-shattering, and I have recordings of literally all the other songs, but my phone failed me for this one. Please save me, or I'll grieve until the next time I'll be at a live show of Hozier (and who knows if that will ever happen at all).
Look. The thing is. I’m doomed. This podcast is everything to me and it has only twelve episodes? And I’ve already been doomed after the very first one??? Who will I became after, dunno, the thirtieth one? I fear the answer and await for it at the same time. Pray for me.
This fandom is just beginning and I’m so incredibly happy to witness it all because it’s just so thrilling and I crave a n y kind of content, I’m s t a r v e d.
Honestly, I’ll talk to anybody about it, anybody who will be patient enough to listen me giggling and internally screaming.
I love those two idiots, they are responsible for considerable part of my day-to-day happiness. I’m screwed.
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every single person who reblogs this
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single
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will get “doot doot" in their ask box
rare vent art from a few months ago