“…she stopped paying close attention to his words and when at red lights, examined the rain drops spattering on the windshield so intently that she almost stared right through them. Each drop seemed stuck on the glass, until another drop landed on it and they rolled down the window together, ending in a climactic splash.”

Sara: English major, writer, clarinetist.

I post and reblog: things I think are pretty, things that intrigue me, things I'm a fan of, and things I care about.

Common themes include: books, writing, movies, more books, cozy beds, breakfasts, Doctor Who, Sherlock, feminist issues, and occasional pieces of my life.

(My abroad blog can be found here.)

Wallpaper adapted from here.






fuckyeahsherlockfics: Attention Sherlockians of the BBC variety: As a fandom that subsists solely on three episodes of canon, we know how to make a lot out of a little. So we here at fuckyeahsherlockfics have created a contest to put these skills to the test! In “The Great Game: A fuckyeahsherlockfics Contest,” you have the challenge of writing a one sentence fanfic for Sherlock BBC. Anything and everything is welcome: angst, fluff, crossovers, dialog, meta, porn - as long as it relates back to the show. Your sentence is meant to imply an entire story behind it, so it can be something like this: “Reichenbach was never the end, Sherlock Holmes.” Or essentially the same thing, but with an entirely new meaning: “Reichenbach was never the end. - SH” RULES AND REGULATIONS 1. To enter the competition, just reblog this post from anyone and add your story. You may submit as many stories as you want, either in the same post or separately. 2. When reblogging, make sure to keep the rules and regulations attached. You may, however, delete other contestants’ submissions to conserve space. 3. Each submission should consist of a single, grammatically correct sentence. There will be leniency for creative writing, but don’t get cute with semi-colons and commas. 4. Contest ends Friday, July 15 12:00 AM EST. The results will be posted the following week. The winner of “The Great Game” will receive a prize package of: One fake book cover for a fanfiction of their choice (including their sentence) from blanketforyourshock Once drawing, either a black and white scene or a watercolor portrait, from audrey923 And a choice of either one desktop, three banners, or ten icons from shriekingshacks Good luck, Sherlock fandom! John wordlessly ran for his coat and forgot all about the ruined kettle and unusable refrigerator when Sherlock looked up at him expectantly after texting furiously with Lestrade. Unexpectedly, Sherlock felt a guilty twinge at John’s hurt expression, forcing a reevaluation with the following unprecedented result: Sherlock regretted his words because he cared that they’d upset his…friend. Mycroft’s deft manipulation of his umbrella was just the start of Lestrade’s interest in him, with surprisingly romantic kidnappings soon to follow and escalate until Lestrade realized they were definitely dating (something Mycroft had of course understood the first time he caught Lestrade looking at him). Mrs. Hudson assured Mrs. Turner she would pass on the noise complaints, even though she had no intention of doing so because she knew exactly how useless it would be, especially since although hers weren’t married, they’d recently stopped needing two bedrooms. Given his complete failure to provide brotherly protection when he’d really needed it, Sherlock demanded that Mycroft no longer contact him, not realizing that this failure would only lead Mycroft to begin investing an intrusive level of attention on his reckless brother’s life in order to keep him alive. It had been possible to ignore the disappointing nature of her affair with Anderson until Sherlock—that freak—had exposed them, forcing Donovan to renew her efforts to get Anderson to leave his wife, for good. Moriarty’s last mistake was kidnapping John again, underestimating just how unacceptable Sherlock had found it and how using John to hurt him would only increase his already impressive dedication to catching his enemy. Molly read the printout that had somehow been slipped into her labcoat pocket: “Instead of pursuing Jim (he is Moriarty, see upcoming headlines for more information), you are advised to arrange dates with the suitable men whose dating profiles have just been emailed to you, making sure to apply lipstick (remember, your lips look too small without it) in preparation for your outings—good luck.” Sarah thought things had been going pretty well, if slowly, until she realized that the way John looked at Sherlock wasn’t just John’s thrill at the danger of pursuing criminals and decided to end things with him and maybe give him a push in what was obviously the right direction, towards his flatmate. Harry sighed and poured herself another as she remembered how John’s face had fallen into a careful mask of indifference when he had finally visited her during her stint at the hospital for alcohol poisoning and she’d refused, again, to go to rehab. Mummy occasionally wondered if all parents needed to continue refereeing name-calling amongst their offspring this far into their adulthood, but then remembered that no siblings were quite like her Mycroft and Sherlock. The money that came to them made them wonder two things: the first, if maybe their father had cared about them more than they’d thought and the second, how a cabbie could bequeath so much. They found that barriers like “I thought I was straight” and “married to my work” were easily steamrolled by the reality of adrenaline-fueled alleyway quickies.  

fuckyeahsherlockfics:

Attention Sherlockians of the BBC variety:

As a fandom that subsists solely on three episodes of canon, we know how to make a lot out of a little. So we here at fuckyeahsherlockfics have created a contest to put these skills to the test!

In “The Great Game: A fuckyeahsherlockfics Contest,” you have the challenge of writing a one sentence fanfic for Sherlock BBC. Anything and everything is welcome: angst, fluff, crossovers, dialog, meta, porn - as long as it relates back to the show.

Your sentence is meant to imply an entire story behind it, so it can be something like this:

“Reichenbach was never the end, Sherlock Holmes.”

Or essentially the same thing, but with an entirely new meaning:

“Reichenbach was never the end. - SH”

RULES AND REGULATIONS

1. To enter the competition, just reblog this post from anyone and add your story. You may submit as many stories as you want, either in the same post or separately.

2. When reblogging, make sure to keep the rules and regulations attached. You may, however, delete other contestants’ submissions to conserve space.

3. Each submission should consist of a single, grammatically correct sentence. There will be leniency for creative writing, but don’t get cute with semi-colons and commas.

4. Contest ends Friday, July 15 12:00 AM EST. The results will be posted the following week.

The winner of “The Great Game” will receive a prize package of:

One fake book cover for a fanfiction of their choice (including their sentence) from blanketforyourshock

Once drawing, either a black and white scene or a watercolor portrait, from audrey923

And a choice of either one desktop, three banners, or ten icons from shriekingshacks

Good luck, Sherlock fandom!

John wordlessly ran for his coat and forgot all about the ruined kettle and unusable refrigerator when Sherlock looked up at him expectantly after texting furiously with Lestrade.

Unexpectedly, Sherlock felt a guilty twinge at John’s hurt expression, forcing a reevaluation with the following unprecedented result: Sherlock regretted his words because he cared that they’d upset his…friend.

Mycroft’s deft manipulation of his umbrella was just the start of Lestrade’s interest in him, with surprisingly romantic kidnappings soon to follow and escalate until Lestrade realized they were definitely dating (something Mycroft had of course understood the first time he caught Lestrade looking at him).

Mrs. Hudson assured Mrs. Turner she would pass on the noise complaints, even though she had no intention of doing so because she knew exactly how useless it would be, especially since although hers weren’t married, they’d recently stopped needing two bedrooms.

Given his complete failure to provide brotherly protection when he’d really needed it, Sherlock demanded that Mycroft no longer contact him, not realizing that this failure would only lead Mycroft to begin investing an intrusive level of attention on his reckless brother’s life in order to keep him alive.

It had been possible to ignore the disappointing nature of her affair with Anderson until Sherlock—that freak—had exposed them, forcing Donovan to renew her efforts to get Anderson to leave his wife, for good.

Moriarty’s last mistake was kidnapping John again, underestimating just how unacceptable Sherlock had found it and how using John to hurt him would only increase his already impressive dedication to catching his enemy.

Molly read the printout that had somehow been slipped into her labcoat pocket: “Instead of pursuing Jim (he is Moriarty, see upcoming headlines for more information), you are advised to arrange dates with the suitable men whose dating profiles have just been emailed to you, making sure to apply lipstick (remember, your lips look too small without it) in preparation for your outings—good luck.”

Sarah thought things had been going pretty well, if slowly, until she realized that the way John looked at Sherlock wasn’t just John’s thrill at the danger of pursuing criminals and decided to end things with him and maybe give him a push in what was obviously the right direction, towards his flatmate.

Harry sighed and poured herself another as she remembered how John’s face had fallen into a careful mask of indifference when he had finally visited her during her stint at the hospital for alcohol poisoning and she’d refused, again, to go to rehab.

Mummy occasionally wondered if all parents needed to continue refereeing name-calling amongst their offspring this far into their adulthood, but then remembered that no siblings were quite like her Mycroft and Sherlock.

The money that came to them made them wonder two things: the first, if maybe their father had cared about them more than they’d thought and the second, how a cabbie could bequeath so much.

They found that barriers like “I thought I was straight” and “married to my work” were easily steamrolled by the reality of adrenaline-fueled alleyway quickies.  



Sherlock: If you were dying, if you were murdered, in the very last seconds, what would you say? John: Please God, let me live. Sherlock: Use your imagination! John: I don’t have to…

Sherlock: If you were dying, if you were murdered, in the very last seconds, what would you say?

John: Please God, let me live.

Sherlock: Use your imagination!

John: I don’t have to…

(via fyeahsherlockandjohn)