John Watson Appreciation Text Posts Collection:

john watson appreciation text posts collection:

Oh okay thanks for the info! It’s just that I know bbc!sherlock pretty well and while I’ve read some of the acd!sherlock I remember the cases more than the general stuff about characters. Should probably catch up and start reading.

Okay I’ve just realized that bbc!sherlock’s birthday is the 6th of January (I hope I’m not wrong). It’s like. In five days. And I wasn’t even ready for the christmas episode on 26th December. And Sherlock mentioned an underlying threat of birthday surprise party while talking John’s ear off about how he love christmas. And I’m still not over it, but that’s for another post. And-

When is s&c!sherlock birthday? Are we getting Sherlock birthday episode? are we getting Sherlock’s birthday surprise party? a r e w e ???

How to spot signs and symptoms of Breast Cancer 

Three butch friends of mine finishing the basement of my first house around 1996.   They worked for beer, and not even anything fancy. 

okay okay wait a second

victor trevor interrupting stranger’s conversation just because he heard the name sherlock holmes in it? asking if he has been mentioning him? being the only friend sherlock had in college? remembering that the one kind of pasta he eats is penne and having his own predictions about who sherlock’d be in the future? asking right away if he’d been right? thinking that sherlock of all people was a great laugh? and have I heard being in between boyfriends???

finally, speaking about sherlock with this warm nostalgic tone and always with a bashful laugh hidden behind it? oh my, mister victor trevor, you were in love!

and don’t mind me at all, but I’m having a certain vision - of sherlock and victor in college, victor coming late to their dorm after long evening studying in the library or a night out with friends in a pub, and finding sherlock transfixed on some experiment, of course having gone a whole day without a proper meal. victor complaining loudly about you and your fucked up diet, honestly, sherlock, but at the same time getting ready to go make sherlock some pasta for a late night diner. because did you know this penne with mascarpone and tomato sauce that is the only pasta sherlock eats, is originally a victor’s recipe? and after it’s done, them both sitting on a couch, sherlock eating from a pot - they’re students after all, the dishes are in a big dirty pile in the sink - while victor watches him out of the corner of his eye. then the rest of the evening spend on Sherlock talking about his experiment, some interesting plant or a new deduction, while victor just listens to him with a dreamy expression on his face, because that’s what he has been waiting the whole day for.

and I won’t speculate whether sherlock was in love, too, because the man is a mystery to me, but I do imagine victor calling him after the events of gloria scott, asking if he can come by to baker street to thank properly for solving the case. after sherlock agrees - but invites him over when he knows nor john neither mariana would be home - victor arrives with a shoping bag in hand and, in spite of some attempts at protest close to it’s not necessary, he prepares the penne pasta for sherlock one last time. then all is done and there’s no excuse for him to stay longer, really, so he stands up to say goodbye. quick enough for sherlock to not be able to do anything about it, victor kisses him on the cheek. but he had been watching sherlock during the case and heard enough my dear watson to know that he has lost his chance. so he says simply good luck, sherlock and walks out of baker street.

john would come back to the flat few moments later to find sherlock standing in a doorway, hands holding his cheeks. sherlock being even weirder than usual, john would get worried and trying to pry any information from him, even checking his temperature by a quick touch to the forehead. but as sherlock doesn’t comply, in the end john would just shrug his shoulders and leave him alone, only to become perplexed seconds later, when he enters the kitchen.

because there are leftovers of penne with mascarpone and tomato sauce already on the countertop, while john himself was just about to cook them this same thing for dinner.

me, with english as not my primary language, trying to follow sherlock when he blurts out the whole sequence of deductions at the speed of light:

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

I fell asleep in my friends' arms. It was eleven at night, we were tired, curled up in a small pile on my tiny bed. I had my head buried in my roommate's side, and one of my closest friend's hand on my shoulder, steadying me. It was quiet and nothingness and peace and their heartbeats in my ears, my hands in their hair.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

We pack four people to that little bed, you know. Laps used as footrests, collarbones as pillows, little lights like moonlight in rustic yellow bathed on their faces. The TV plays an anime. The words are repeated by my dear friend on my shoulder, curled close. My legs are asleep; my roommate may be, too.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

The cat curls on top of our criss cross mess of legs and arms and heads on chests to absorb the warmth of us all. She purrs in contented peace. When my roommate and I are left alone in the quiet, she cries, and watches the door for our friends' return.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

I will never kiss them but the top of their heads. I will never touch but the warmth of their arms. I will never take more than what's freely given, and in return I put my glasses on the bedside table fashioned from a guitar amp, and when I lean into their sides, I pick up my vulnerability and place it in their capable, tender hands.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

I sing for them. I cry for them. I work and I run and I withstand the worst of the world for them, because some days I get to cradle their forehead on my shoulder and some days I get to see their shining eyes.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

Maybe to you. But look beyond explanation. I love them. With my heart in my unsteady hands, with my nose pressed to the side of their head, with the buzzing in my feet and the warmth all around Iike the sunset pushing into the window.

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

Is it enough to say I love them? With no strings attached? With reckless abandon and utter devotion and freedom and kindness and fear?

"there is no platonic explanation for this--"

I cannot explain it any clearer. I love my friends. There is no more to say.

john watson appreciation text posts collection:

I FUCKING KNEW IT. I FUCKING KNEW IT WE WERE ABOUT TO GET A SHERLOCK’S BIRTHDAY EPISODE. I’VE LITERALLY POSTED ABOUT IT YESTERDAY I’M A FUCKING GENIUS

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you're welcome