sketchlock:

thisblogismynote:

BBC Sherlock —> Sherlock calls on Victor Trevor (Tom Hiddleston) to befriend John during his three year absence, as Victor and him were once close friends in university. 

(The character of Victor Trevor can be found in the short story The Adventures of the Gloria Scott by Conan Doyle)

It was three weeks after the fall, Sherlock had been monitoring John’s movements in his spare moments when he wasn’t chasing a lead on Moran’s whereabouts. He tried to act under the front that he was looking out for him, should Moriarty’s henchmen carry out their original deed after the suicide of their master. But even he knew why he watched. 

John was sad, more, broken? No deeper, he was empty. Sherlock watched as he left their regular grocery store, his automatic movements and the resonting echoes of his war limp indicating the hollowness residing in him. He knew he had to do act, fast, John was rotting, all exitement and intrigue removed from his life, all drive and companionship gone, John would rot. He was strong, he would live and move on, but Sherlock wanted him to do more than exist, he was the conductor of light, and his symphony was far from over. 

Before he knew what he was doing Sherlock was in Norfolk, he was standing in a familiar estate, the memories of his university days creating a nostalgic tightness in his chest. He knew this was what must happen, he was aware that there was one man at least, who could give John the companionship he needed, the conversation, someone who he would not associate with Sherlock. He rang the bell again forcefully, casting his discerning eyes over the property, noticing foot marks and misplaced stones that were no doubt significant in betraying the proprietors habits, staff and even scandals. 

The door was pulled open by a butler with sleek black hair and and a lofty manner. Sherlocks forthcoming request, led him with the butler, into a room adjacent to the grand but tasteful lobby, the room was dark with a single window, an office of sorts with a heavy air of study and reverie. There was a man sitting  in a chair at the far to the left of the door, he turned as Sherlock entered and raised his eyebrows slightly, first with surprise and then his face settled into a nonchalant coldness. 

“Victor.” muttered Sherlock, “I have a favour.”

sophistory:

Tooling around in Photoshop instead of tidying things like a responsible adult? DON’T MIND IF I DO.

→ prints

(via morpheusnyx)

ironbrony:

Ok ok ok ok here we go. ~Doctor Who plush giveaway~ Last giveaway until April~!

I wasn’t being totally serious about this when I suggested it, but apparently I have a lot more Whovian followers than I thought~! ;~; 

Both plushies are my usual 3 ft tall, BUT since my failure of a local JoAnn’s didn’t carry any of the regular brown fleece I’ve been using (and ran out of), the 11th Doctor’s hair and jacket had to be made out of brown ultra cuddle fabric instead (the same kind I use for Davesrpite), thus, he came out not as good as I had hoped. Sorry. 

SPECIAL NOTE: There will be TWO (2) separate winners for this giveaway (crazy, right?); the first winner will have first pick of which Doctor they want, the other winner gets the remaining one, HOWEVER, if one winner would like the NINTH doctor instead of 10 or 11, I will happily make him instead and pick a third winner. If you want this option, remember to tell me when and/or if I contact you.

Rules!!!!11???11 

-Reblog and likes for everyone~! (the usual)

-International is chill 

-RNG winner pickerer

-Allons-y~!

Followers have been leaving me like the plague these last few days, so I really appreciate all of you who are still standing by me <3 I do these giveaways not only to share my creations with people, but as gifts to everyone who is kind enough to follow this silly kid ;u; Thank’s all~!♡

 That’s it. Keep calm and don’t blink~(⊙‿⊙✿)

three—THREE FEET TALL???

(Source: sheldony, via 10knotes)