Mr. Holmes is not available at the moment.

asklorkhan:

I want to rp with you, but I don’t think you want to rp with me: a book by me

lumos5001:

Neil Patrick Harris and David Burtka reenact the spaghetti scene from Lady and the Tramp

please tell me again how these adorable idiots are ruining the sanctity of marriage cause i’ll i see is a hella lot of cuteness

aseaofquotes:

Jean Ferris, Once Upon a Marigold

aseaofquotes:

Jean Ferris, Once Upon a Marigold

itsnotmyrealname:

"Mycroft, by now you should know that I only go snooping when I am worried about you. You have the option to tell me nothing."

Anthea’s head tilted to the side as she watched her employer. It wasn’t very often that she saw him look so nervous. That only happened when Sherlock was in danger. While the curiosity was there, she would never push the boundaries of their trust too far as to force him to tell her anything he didn’t want to.

A long moment passed before Mycroft drew in a breath, readying himself to speak. He noted the curiosity—and thought it better to explain himself now, rather than later. If things went well at dinner, it would be happening more often.

"I’ve got a date," he began. "I suppose you would call it that. Two individuals engaging in some activity together, yes? A date."

Send me the first half of a story and I’ll finish it.

Send me a word and I’ll write a story with it using ten words or less and involving our characters.

inboxideas:

(The word you send does not count against the word limit.)

submitted by clockchimesthirteen.

[ Mycroft in a polyamorous relationship is something that I need to explore. ]

itsnotmyrealname:

mycroftthegreat:

[ itsnotmyrealname ]

"Did you put in that dinner reservation I had?"

"Yes, sir. Would it be rude of me to ask who is accompanying you?"

"…No, not entirely. But I suppose I should tell you before you go poking about in natural curiosity."

Mycroft tapped his foot, hands sliding into his pockets with feigned ease. Dare he admit to it, Mycroft was ever just slightly nervous about admitting who he was having dinner with. It resided in the concept, rather than the actual person. Still, he remained hesitant—the few times he ever was so.

MR POND