⏳ ·˚ ༘ 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐎𝐍

;         please  <33

@USUALLYSUBTEXT.  /  pls !! 

━━ ☄︎: @USUALLYSUBTEXT
            
                it wouldn’t surprise you if i said out fighting. that’s a simple way of saying it. . . wow, look at you. it’s like you haven’t aged a day. 

(  @devoutsoldier  )      —      you’re  lucky  i  never  started  to  charge  you .    …  christ ,  lore .   where’ve  you  been ?

@USUALLYSUBTEXT  *  LESTRADE?!? 

*  /     CHAAAANNY  COME  JOIN  US
            (  @silentforces  )

*  OH MY GOD I HAVE TO TELL EVERYONE 

working with her was not entirely painful, despite her seemingly desperate advances. those were tolerable. it was the moments when she would bring up john that wedged under sherlock's skin the most. she seemed to delight in setting him off, referring to him as a ' ticking time bomb ' that would eventually explode if he didn't find his way back to london (specifically, back to john) sooner rather than later. she'd casually mention john's blog, how she'd garnered the impression that john had liked sherlock even more than she had, and that conversation the pair had in the abandoned warehouse. more than once, she'd referred to john as ' jealous. ' and more often than not, sherlock had acclimated to tuning out the sound of her voice.
            
            sherlock grazed his fingertip along the rim of his teacup, not quite bringing the hot liquid to his lips yet. his eyes narrowed, though he refused to meet john's stare. he had never understood the resentment john felt towards the woman, which had bothered him, as he was not used to / not understanding / something. human emotion may have been his one blind spot, but surely this couldn't trace back to sentiment. he had never permitted himself to presume that. but now, after so many pitifully edged remarks from the woman regarding john's possible ' jealousy, ' it struck a specific cord. 
            
            finally, sherlock looked up, schooling his features into an impassive expression as he held john's gaze. piercing blue eyes stared back at him, aware enough that sherlock felt like he was being read as easily as he constantly read everyone else. unsettling, really. "i had no other choice." it came out flippant, distracted, instead of defensive. slightly, sherlock tilted his head, letting out a low hum. "i wonder . . ." he paused for a quiet intake of breath. / just ask, / mycroft's voice taunted internally, / or are you simply too scared? / he set his jaw. "you almost sound . . . jealous. that she knew." a beat. "or over something else, perhaps," he mused.

it was almost too simple to pretend that everything remained peaceful and normal when john was lingering around at baker street so much lately. there had been evenings where he would doze off in front of the telly, and sherlock would glance over from his latest experiment, the microscope suddenly forgotten as nostalgia overcame him. previously, he had always been capable of divorcing himself from all emotion, but when john watson was involved, his pressure point was pushed. hard. he knew it was merely an illusion of the past comfort they had - obviously things would never return to normal, despite sherlock's initial assumption that everything had remained in a perpetual stalemate. just this once, he had been wrong.
            
            and of course, it had been over the absolute most important part of his life.
            
            there had been too many evenings, during the period sherlock was intent upon untangling moriarty's web, that john watson had come to mind. during those rare moments of rest, sherlock would pour over old memories, stringing together imagery from his mind palace until it felt like he was back at 221b with john. back with the crackling fireplace, warm cups of tea, bad telly on low volume, and the sound of john's painfully slow tapping against his laptop keyboard. he would allow himself to remember the sound of john's voice, from his frustrated shouts during their little ' domestics ' to his soft murmurs late into the rainy evenings. even when london was thousands of miles away, john still remained a part of sherlock - the steady beating pulse in his wrist, still thudding even after his fall.
            
            being removed from that reverie, of course, was rarely pleasant. but it was inevitable. sherlock could not allow himself to get too distracted, as he was not only risking his own life, but john's, lestrade's, and mrs. hudson's, as well. eventually, that was where the woman had proven herself useful. against all odds. she was clever, sharp, and intent on providing her worth.

(  @REICHENSFALLS  )
            
            john was a soldier, though, and in the army, you were told to move on. there was nothing more to do and letting yourself stay in one place could kill you — move on. so eventually, that’s what he had done.
            
            but sherlock was alive and despite his initial reactions, john had come running right back to his side. in some ways, he despised himself for it — sherlock’s protector, his caretaker, his little /pet/. things were different this time, however, and he would’ve been lying if he pretended not to notice it. he knew sherlock did. they danced around each other more, in a way, but john also would’ve been lying if he said it wasn’t a bit relieving. there were times where the weight of all they’d left unsaid felt suffocating, but surely that was better than the alternative, wasn’t it?
            
            john sipped pointedly at his tea, ignoring how it burned his tongue. some things certainly hadn’t changed, but once again, perhaps that was for the better. “you never are. doesn’t mean you shouldn’t eat,” he countered. it wasn’t entirely fair for him to be so severely rubbed the wrong way from the mere mention of the woman, he knew that; especially not after how close they’d apparently become during sherlock’s “death”. the sting was still there regardless, and he couldn’t seem to choke it down no matter how hard he tried. whether or not sherlock had caught onto that yet — well, that wasn’t really his fault. “you were /dead/, sherlock. i thought she was too.”

\    this  >>>>  my entire existence

( @mortemtendency )
            
            /    :0

( @USUALLYSUBTEXT )
            
            how many times do i have to say it, you don’t HAVE TO BE GAY — * sherlock his his hand against the wall, groaning out in despair at the stupidity he was seeing in front of him. he rocked on his chair, loosing his balance before he got it back. he went sheet white before looking at john again. * i don’t know the logistics or name but there’s some sort of orientation where you can like both men and women, you twat . . . * he shook his head, looking away. *

@CONSULTINGFREAK ;    
            
            * john snorted ,  poking his head out of the kitchen to raise an eyebrow at the other man . *  “ swapping spit ” ,  sherlock ,  really ?  * he returned to the stove ,  leaning against the counter as he waited for the water to boil .  he closed his eyes for a moment ,  considering his options . *  okay ,  fine .  i’ll admit that i’ve . . .  “ swapped spit ” with women  / and /  men before ,  but that was a long time ago and under completely different circumstances .  i prefer women .  i’m not in denial ,  i’m just not gay .

( @USUALLYSUBTEXT )
            
            not like that, john. * he shook his head, mumbling some sort of curses under his breath as he ran his hands through his dark curls. * i’m talking about uhh — the whole intimacy thing you people are so into. when you want to swap spit with someone and all that. you know— you’d swap spit with both a man and a woman and be fine with both. * he didn’t want to say “kissing” because he was just that much of a cocky prick. besides, it sounded cooler the way he said it. * i have answers and i know they’re right— you’re just in denial, dr. watson.