highcheekbonescollars:

Right I am up to date on everyone save Irene.

I’m going to jet off therefore, so I can get an early start for tomorrow.

I’m away all weekend until Monday. I may or may not be online then. 

Tagging anyone it’s relevant too (basically, anyone in my bookmarks), then putting it in the queue to appear once or twice more.

captainjhw:

So my good friend Karen who just started playing here on tumblr, she runs Vivienna Coilier, was hit by a car in her work parking lot a couple hours ago. She has some broken ribs, a broken arm, a torn quad, and a torn meniscus. Along with whiplash and a concussion. 

She will be okay eventually. But this is the stupid shit that pisses me off. 

Assholes in her neighborhood who drag race peel through that lot all the time and it’s a serious problem and she used to say all the time “Someone’s gonna have to get hit before the cops take this seriously” and well… I guess it was her. She’ll probably laugh about it later, knowing her.

Karen strips and waits tables for a living and will have to have surgery on her leg and might not be able to dance for a very long time if ever again. Stripping was something she really enjoyed doing and it was her livelihood and so she’s bound to get pretty depressed.

Anyway. It would mean a lot to me if you all went and left her some encouragement/condolences in her askbox for her to come back to when she finally gets out of the hospital.

Anyway. Thanks guys.

xx Skye

[Update]

She’s going in for surgery for her leg. Here’s hoping all goes well!~

Right I am up to date on everyone save Irene.

I’m going to jet off therefore, so I can get an early start for tomorrow.

I’m away all weekend until Monday. I may or may not be online then. 

Tagging anyone it’s relevant too (basically, anyone in my bookmarks), then putting it in the queue to appear once or twice more.

calvin-marwick:

Calvin laid on the couch letting his eyes slid closed. His breathing started to level out. With a bit of effort he opened one eye to look at Sherlock. The look on his face explained exactly what the detective was thinking. He may think he was good at hiding himself from people, but you shag someone and things are just a little bit easier to read. 

“Stop thinking about it.”

Sherlock’s pale eyes snapped to the side to the boy as soon as he spoke. “Don’t tell me what to do.” He said shortly, not interested in having a lecture from a twenty something year old. Especially when think about it was all he could do. John and Calvin warred in his mind. He would have been guilty, were he a normal person. However, he was Sherlock Holmes. He just felt mildly inconvenienced, yet he still believed that it had been a good idea. That, and it sobered him quickly.

But, he’d gained his distraction. He’d let off some steam. Now he just had to deal with the aftermath. 

(Source: calvinmarwick)

mostdangerousmanyouveevermet:

Is it? Oh, then I won’t mention how the leads seem to go to Moriarty. Who knows, maybe he’s not up to anything at all.

What?

(Source: highcheekbonescollars)

aleclestrade:

Yeah, s’about the gist of it. ‘Sides what’s the point of you tellin’ me dad anyways? That’d be too easy, and pointless.

That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t do it. Perhaps I’m petulant enough to. 

nolanlestrade: 

…Well that’s— I’d rather be in that situation rather than him refusing to go to the hospital and have another near death experience. I was six. That was….a little more than terrifying.

I just…think it best if…dad or Uncle Mycroft explain.

Yes well, perhaps if your father takes my advice and realises that he cannot do everything that he believes, perhaps then he will not need to go to hospital. The idiot still takes risk. 

viviennecoilier:

“Aside from the obvious sex. I’m pretty good at manipulating people. Especially rich, stupid men. So maybe not, Sherlock. You’re quite the master of manipulation yourself if my sources serve me well. And they should.” Vivienne replied with a shrug, frowning over at him. But her frown turned to a playful pout. 

“Such a shame.”

Sherlock gave an almost nonchalant shrug. Was he supposed to be impressed that a woman was declaring all her positive attributes? They were not worth his time. The potential for a case was outweighed by the fact there was something about her; it seemed wrong. 
“Tell me more about who I am to find, Miss…?” He threw out the line. If what was returned was some way interesting, he’d consider it. 

mostdangerousmanyouveevermet:

Of course not, dear brother. *Pulls out a file* A man has turned up dead, having eaten glass. *Pulls out three more* Same with these men. All four having worked for the secret service, all four having died the same way without any evidence that they ate the glass.

Don’t look so smug, and don’t give me such boring work. You can work that one out yourself, I’m quite sure. 
Really Mycroft, this is almost insulting.  

(Source: highcheekbonescollars)

loyalbloggerwhowaits:

John sighed as the staff came in to set up the new bed, which, he saw was a little wider, and he wondered why. Then he saw the look the nurse gave him, and was annoyed as he saw the assumptions go through her expression. They thought Sherlock had raped him, done all of this to him, torn him up like a bloody piece of meat! He gritted his teeth, and let Sherlock lead him over to the bed, and winced as a few of his stitches stretched as he got back into the bed, never letting go of Sherlock’s hand, as the taller man ordered them some supper.

He resisted the urge to cover Sherlock’s mouth with a hand as his friend began to talk, try to explain why it was his fault. “I am your friend, Sherlock, if nothing else. That means I am involved, and what’s more, I knew what I was signing on for when I moved in with you.” He sighed as Sherlock turned to look at him, and wasn’t surprised at all to see the hatred and revenge blatant on Sherlock’s face. “That I am completely fine with… But don’t you dare get hurt, Sherlock Holmes. Don’t let him get to you with this. Remember, I will be fine. It’s just going to take some time.” He tugged on his hand, until Sherlock came closer to him, and then brought his hand up to his lips and kissed it gently. Even if Sherlock never returned his affections, even if John was unable to ever do anything like he’d done before again, he wanted Sherlock to know that he cared, and always would, and he tried to convey through that simple small gesture, before letting him go, as the nurse came back in with their food.

Sherlock listened to John with a low sigh. He wanted to be his usual self; detached and unperturbed by what happened around him. John forbid that. John demanded his full attention. The brush of lips on his knuckles dulled that burning rage, made him look down at their hands together. It was just a simple gesture, as was the kiss, but it made the man of science stare almost dumbly. 

He coughed and looked uncertain, thankful for the distraction of the nurse. Thanking the lady, he took their food and set it on the bedside table; untouched. 
“Then I shall make sure you have that time.” He said quietly, moving away to stand at the window.
Outside lay the sprawling mass of the hospital grounds, thriving with life. Families, patients, staff. From John’s room, he could see it all. He would never be a part of it, save if he were a patient again. Or, perhaps one day, a corpse.

“Eat something. You need to keep your strength.” He told the window, automatically attempting to distance himself from what had occurred. It was a defensive mechanism nearly; a desire to protect himself from the unknown. John cared for him romantically, and he could never return those affections. How can you return what you don’t know or understand?  

mostdangerousmanyouveevermet:

Oh no. You have found me out. My great plan is ruined. Either way, we both know cases don’t take very long for you.

Very true. Tell me what it is, if you’re not to leave me alone. Not, that I might take it.

(Source: highcheekbonescollars)

mr-trevor:

He laughed a little and ran his fingers through his hair again, curling his fingers in the ends lightly. It had been a long time since he felt so victorious upon reaching the conclusion to a question, upon finding the answer. Perhaps it was because it had been him and Sherlock working together towards it, egging each other on, building on each other’s ideas until they hit the peak and reached their goal. 

Maybe it was because, deep down, a part of him that he was ashamed of was rather proud to have gained that expression from Sherlock. But Victor was careful not to let it show; he always was. He didn’t want to imagine Sherlock’s disdain if he realized just how much Victor sought his approval, some sort of little smile from him, a nod when he said something particularly good.

Leaning back against the couch, Victor stretched for a few long moments and yawned, then turned his gaze to the ceiling, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. 

“Well. That’s serious, ammonium hydroxide poisoning. The fact that the mine is built on a river isn’t really helping matters. That mine is far too large of a risk as a whole…it’ll have to be shut down entirely. There’s no other option.” He sighed before shrugging a little. “Ah, but it’s worth it for the lives it will save, and recompense a little for those that have not. Though I’m not looking forward to arguing with the local government to allow me to take away one of their largest employers.” He grimaced a bit, then shook his head.

“Anyway, boring business matters. There’s actual food in the refrigerator, you know, if you like. Think there’s half a sandwich in there from this afternoon when I didn’t have time to have lunch.”

Sherlock watched as Victor moved away. How could the other man be so relaxed and laid back now? Did he not feel that buzz of success, the fresh feeling of having to apply his brain and his knowledge? Was he not thirsty to do it again and again, to prove how good he could be and test himself to see where his limits were? 
This, if anything, was the worst affliction of Sherlock Holmes’ genius. He could never be satisfied. A single case only provided him with some distraction before he returned to that state of irritable desire for more. It was like his drug addiction, or, his old addiction. 

The detective blinked and the curse of thought was gone, instead replaced with an almost smug smirk. “Yes well, now at least there will be no more deaths, or at least, there shouldn’t be.” He nodded rubbing a hand down his front to smooth his shirt out of habit. Victor’s flat was irritatingly warm. His suit jacket was shrugged off and tosses carelessly across the sofa beside Victor. 
So there was going to be no more in the way of cases. How droll. Then again, when they were in university there had never been cases. There had only been each other’s company.

So, as encouraged, he padded back into the kitchen and opened the man’s fridge.
“You mean this sandwich that may potentially be host to bacteria?” He took out the plate with a look of distaste on his features.
“Really Victor, your fridge is less well stocked than my own.” He complained, putting the plate in front of his friend when he came into the sitting room again, dropping onto the sofa beside him.

“At least in my fridge there is some form of meat.” Granted, it was human; a heart to be precise. But it was still edible, if he was desperate.  

(Source: highcheekbonescollars)

mostdangerousmanyouveevermet:

Fine. The case shouldn’t take much longer, not unless you’re losing your touch. I’ll come back later.

Nice try Mycroft, however I am not a child that can be manipulated into working through reverse psychology. Really, that is pathetic from you. 

(Source: highcheekbonescollars)

tigerjaw:

don’t you just love surprises?

Not when they come from a man like you.