Completely Insane (and a bit magnificent)

alicexz:

toothyhalcyon:

Welcome to Tumblr.

Holy shit this is the most accurate post I have ever seen in my life

youre-standing-on-my-scarf:

ibelieveinjam:

formaldejekyll:

digitalfisticuffs:

221b-viathevoid:

Jessica Loanwath - High Class!

Ace Turner. Top THAT.

Cleo Ancroft (That’s actually a pretty decent normal person name… )

Chip Lucca.

omfg

Smokey Bloomfield

Louie Devonshire

Well then

(Source: barrowmen)

canadiannarwhal:

i-hopeyou-dance:

amethyst-rose23:

and so I discover why my generation is so weird

I will not never reblog

omfg Megan its us

(Source: skyerockett)

xocolatl-xenomorph:

teenyblondini:

faceityourenevergonnamakeit:

sherlocked-inside-the-tardis:

avengingshit:

“He said you do that.”

#skdjajkaygh #i just think about sherlock being alone during his hiatus and talking out loud and then looking around and realizing john isn’t there

“…and then, when I told her about the cologne on her boyfriend, she tried to—” Sherlock looked up to find that, once again, John wasn’t there. It had been almost month since his ‘fall,’ but he still couldn’t seem to get used to not having John around. He had managed to get used to nearly everything else, but not having John around was going to take some work.

He sighed and got up, wishing he had his violin, even though he knew it wouldn’t help. He picked up his phone and flipped through the texts he had received since the fall.

Went to your funeral today. You would have found it boring. Sentiment and all that. You pretended not to understand it, didn’t you. -JW

I made two cups of tea again. I left yours by your chair. Maybe you’ll come back. -JW

The tea was still there when I woke up. Maybe you weren’t thirsty. -JW

I’ve started working again. Not at St. Barts, though. Can’t deal with that place right now. -JW

I got a call from Harry. Says I should go live with her. I can’t, though. I keep thinking that you’ll come back. -JW

Please come back, Sherlock. -JW

I won’t even complain when you play the violin at three in the morning. -JW

I met a new girl today, but could already tell that she was a chronic cheater. I guess you rubbed off on me. -JW

My therapist says I should stop texting you. Maybe she’s right. Then again, I don’t know what’s right anymore, though. -JW

You’re probably not even getting any of this. -JW

Lestrade visited today. Offered to let me stay at his for the night. Just for some company. I couldn’t do it. -JW

Anderson was gloating about how he knew you were a fraud all along. He left with a bloody nose. -JW

I don’t think Sally’s too pleased. -JW

They tried to take your violin away. I wouldn’t let them. I wouldn’t let them touch anything in your room, in case you do come back some day. -JW

I’m having the nightmares again. But this time, I just see you falling. And I try to catch you, but it’s always too late. Always. -JW

I was supposed to protect you. I guess I can’t do anything right. -JW

I thought I saw you at work today. My heart literally lept, but you disappeared. You always do. -JW

God, just give me a sign. Anything. I just need to know you’re alive. Please. -JW

Sherlock looked away from the phone. The texts still came in a steady flow every day. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. He was already running risks, checking up on John in various disguises. He had nearly been caught a few times, too. He leaned back in his chair, his legs stretched before him, crossed at the ankles, phone dangling from a hand that hung off of the arm of the chair.

He missed John.

—

A year and a half passed. He was getting closer and closer to completely eliminating the web. The texts still came in a steady flow every day. It kept Sherlock sane. Kept him from using. Kept him alive.

I was watching crap telly again. Not the same without you shouting abuse at them now. -JW

Your brother was quite insistent that I go back to my therapist. I’d rather not, though. It’s not helping. -JW

It still hurts, Sherlock. It’s been over a year and it still hurts. Why does it still hurt? -JW

I still make two cups of tea a day. You still never drink yours. -JW

—

Two years later, he had finally cornered the last member of the web, taking care of him with one clean shot in the temple. After the man was dead, Sherlock sat down, staring at the corpse for a good two hours.

It was done.

The web was disintegrated.

And then, out of nowhere, he felt an almost manic explosion of laughter burst out of him. He was laughing uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. Or was he crying? Emotions of glee and desperation racked his body, reducing him to a shaking pile next to a dead man. Finally, he managed to stand up and pull himself together, leaving the corpse where it lay and quickly typing out a text before heading back home.

Put the kettle on. -SH

Oh my lord 

Send help

okay that one hit me right in the feels

(Source: vitalyorlovs)

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(Source: doctorwhofiles)

(Source: fuckyeahhighqualitypics)

gallifreyangeeksquad:

Tom Baker stars in The Coffeebeans of Doom