A Brief Summary of All 6 Episodes of Sherlock, in Gifs

sherlockspeare:

sherli-holmes:

A STUDY IN PINK:

THE BLIND BANKER:

THE GREAT GAME:

A SCANDAL IN BELGRAVIA:

THE HOUNDS OF BASKERVILLE:

THE REICHENBACH FALL:

OH WAIT LET’S NOT FORGET THE PILOT:

PILOT:

“Sherlock is the gayest story in the history of television”

- MARTIN FREEMAN

Wurd, Martin. Wurd.

(Source: theladyholmes)

The real reason we all like Sherlock ffs

not-john-watson:

We are all little misunderstood human beings who care.

Don’t you fucking talk to me about something of value that I see in you, because it is you that I value, every bit of you, the shiny bits and the dodgy bits and all the bits in between. I don’t love you because of some little glimmer of worthiness that a bunch of fucking wankers convinced you that you didn’t possess. I don’t love you because you deserve it. None of us deserve it, but all of us deserve it. I love you because you are Sherlock Holmes and I am John Watson and we were waiting for each other without knowing it. You don’t have to act a certain way or be a certain person, you don’t have to earn my love, because it is yours no matter what you do and you’re just going to have to get used to it.

In other words: Re-reading Performance in a Leading Role. Thank you, MadLori <333

bondlockisgo:

John felt his breathing slowly returning to normal.  He could feel Sherlock panting where his face was pressed against John’s chest.  Without really thinking about it, he carded his fingers through Sherlock’s damp curls, absently noting that they were as soft as he’d imagined during those disturbing moments when he’d found himself contemplating his annoying flatmate as something more than a friend.  

Sherlock chuckled breathlessly.  ”So much for not being gay.”

John laughed, a little self-consciously “Yeah.”  He wasn’t sure what else to say.  What did one say to one’s flatmate-cum-best friend, whom one has vehemently denied having sexual relationship with for years, after the first time  you have sex?  He smiled a little, and ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair again.  John knew he should probably be more distressed about this, but was feeling too wonderful to really care.   

Sherlock traced meaningless circles on John’s skin, enjoying the gentle fingers against his scalp and John’s warm chest under his cheek.  He felt drowsy and content, two things he seldom experienced, and had no real desire to move.  He felt John inhale beneath him, and mentally braced himself for some tedious words about not being gay or needing to get up and find a damp flannel or making tea to come from John’s mouth. Instead he heard him laugh again.  ”I guess it’s a good thing there’s no one around that still wants to call you “The Virgin,” since it’s not true.”  

Sherlock was startled into a laugh at that.  He had not expected those to be John’s first post-coital words.  ”No, no one left.”  He thought for a moment.  ”Although it wasn’t true in the first place.”

“Oh?”  John was obviously trying to sound casually inquisitive and failing miserably.  

“Yes.”  Sherlock paused for a moment.  ”I had a lover when I was at university.”

“Really?” John said, sounding to Sherlock’s ears less incredulous and more relieved than he would have expected.  ”What was his name?  How did you meet?”

Sherlock frowned.  ”Why do you want to know?”

John sighed.  ”I like to know things about the people I care about, and  I care about you,   therefore, I’m interested in your past.”  John waited a moment, still moving his fingers through Sherlock’s curls.  ”You don’t have to tell me, of course.  If it’s something you don’t like to think about.”

“No, it’s nothing like that.”  Sherlock settled himself more securely against John’s chest, wrapping his arm around the other man’s waist.  ”His name was Victor Trevor.  I met him when I was walking to class and his dog bit me.  It didn’t hurt, and normally I would have just brushed off his apologies and kept walking, but something about him caught my attention.  He asked my name, and what I was studying, and told me it was fate that we’d met because he desperately needed a chemistry tutor.”  

John smiled.  ”I can’t imagine you being a tutor for someone.”

Sherlock smiled, too.  ”Neither could I, but I found myself agreeing and planning to meet him at his flat the following night.  I kept telling myself I had no reason to go, but nevertheless was at his door at the appointed time.  I told myself that if he was an idiot, I’d just leave, but found myself just watching him talk even though what he was saying meant nothing.  It took me almost an hour of trying to teach him the basics of gas laws to realize I was sexually attracted to him.”

John kissed the top of Sherlock’s head.  ”How long were you together?”

Sherlock smiled a little at the kiss.  ”Several months.”

John snorted.  ”Several?”

Sherlock scowled.  ”Yes, several.  Why?”

“That’s just such an imprecise length of time, coming from you.”

Sherlock had to admit that was true.  ”Three months, ten days and 7 hours, give or take a few minutes.”

John chuckled softly.  ”That’s better.  Why did you break up?”

Sherlock thought back to his long-ago relationship.  ”We were very different.  He was kind, considerate, and horribly sentimental.  I was none of those things, nor did I wish to change for his benefit.  When he wished our relationship to be closer than it was, it was obvious, even to him, that I was not interested.  Our break-up, as you termed it, was surprisingly amicable.”

John seemed to be processing the information.  Sherlock enjoyed the sound of John’s breathing for a moment before asking “Have any of your previous sexual encounters been with a man?”  

John’s hand stilled in his hair.  He didn’t speak for almost a minute.  ”Yes.  There was one.  At  uni.”

It would take someone far less perceptive than Sherlock to miss the note of discomfort in John’s voice, but his need to know everything about John easily overrode his thoughts of not troubling him.  ”Obviously, since you required information concerning my previous lover, you are going to share the same relevant details of your relationship?” he prompted.

John sighed, and moved his arm around Sherlock’s shoulders.  ”We met at a party.  We were both well-known as being popular with girls, and we knew of each other, but had never met before.  There was something about him that made me feel sort of, I don’t know, jumpy and excited.  We started hanging out together, and one night when were at his flat it just happened.  We kissed, and then it was sex and neither of us really knew how to act but after a couple weeks of it we stopped trying to pull girls, even though we didn’t really think of it as ‘dating.’”

Sherlock thought about that for a moment.  ”Why did it end?”

John sighed.  ”He was just barely making the grades to stay in school.  He was intelligent, he just wasn’t there for an education.  Eventually he got kicked out joined the Navy.  I was starting med school and we agreed to just let it go.”  

“Did you see him again?”

“Yes, actually,” John replied.  ”Our paths crossed a few times in Afghanistan, although he never actually told me why he was there or what he was doing.”  John brought his other arm up so the he was holding Sherlock.  ”He came to see me when I came back to London.  I wasn’t ready to deal with, well, anything, and I told him I wanted to leave my past in the past.  Later I felt like an arse about it but didn’t know how to contact him, or even if he was still in the country.  I think he mentioned that he was working for MI6 but it’s not like I can just ring them up and ask for him.”

“What was his name?”

“James.”

“James what?” Sherlock prompted.

“James Bond.”

Sherlock went completely still for a moment.  ”He’s sleeping with his Quartermaster.”

John shifted so he could look at Sherlock, although he was only seeing the top of his head.  ”How on earth can you possibly know that?”

“My brother is the youngest Quartermaster in the history of MI6.  He’s become involved with one of his agents, namely one James Bond.”

“There is no way that James is sleeping with Mycroft!”

Sherlock sighed impatiently and propped himself up on one elbow to look down at John.  ”No, not Mycroft, no one is attracted to him.  And I did imply that the Quartermaster in question was young so clearly Mycroft is right out.  No, my half-brother, Quinn.”

John just stared up at him for a moment.  ”You have a younger brother you’ve never mentioned before?”  He shook his head.  ”Were you ever going to tell me about him?”

“I probably wouldn’t’ve ever mentioned Mycroft, either, but he’d already abducted you by the time you decided to move into the flat.  But to answer the questions you’re not asking, he’s not my mother’s son, and I didn’t know about him until I was in my 20s, and I’ve only met him a handful of times, and only when I’ve been forced by Mycroft, who, for some reason, wants to maintain a connection with both of us.”

“And now he’s working at MI6 and sleeping with my old boyfriend.”  John shook his head again.  ”How did you find out?  About your brother and James, I mean?”

“Mycroft mentioned it, and was sure I had no reason to know this information, but now that I know about your past, I can only assume—”

John groaned “Please, don’t tell me.”

“—that Mycroft was aware of your relationship with Bond and wanted you to find out—”

“I said don’t tell me!”

“—as well as wanting me to know that Quinn is involved with someone.  Why he thinks I’d care, I’ve no idea.”

“I’m sure there’s some secretive and/or manipulative reason,” John commented, then pulled Sherlock back down on his chest.  ”Okay, no more talking about Mycroft after sex.  Ever.”

Sherlock chuckled.  ”Agreed.”