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stopbeingbored:

He was my best friend and I’ll always believe in him.

Why he adds the news channel video to his last blog entry, he is not too sure himself. It seems right to him, easy somehow. The rest is harder, but at least he has a reason for it.

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He is exhausted.
Sleep doesn’t help.
_______________________________________________________

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phantom-quantum: “Leave me alone. - John. John, stop this. It’s me. Sherlock. I’m real. - That is not true. Sherlock is dead. You are a hallucination created by my damaged brain. You are nothing but an illusion. Go away. Stop torturing me.” You thought that after the disappearance of Sherlock, John would move on and take another start in life? Haha, naïve. He will never get over it. He’ll stay up entire nights, waiting. HOW could he move on? He lacks his other half. His life lacks Sherlock. It is empty. It can’t function without its two essential pieces. ————————————————————- Yes, I am a true sadist. FULL HD IS SO MUCH BETTER
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phantom-quantum:

“Leave me alone.

- John. John, stop this. It’s me. Sherlock. I’m real.

- That is not true. Sherlock is dead. You are a hallucination created by my damaged brain. You are nothing but an illusion. Go away. Stop torturing me.”

You thought that after the disappearance of Sherlock, John would move on and take another start in life? Haha, naïve.

He will never get over it. He’ll stay up entire nights, waiting.

HOW could he move on? He lacks his other half. His life lacks Sherlock. It is empty. It can’t function without its two essential pieces.

————————————————————-

Yes, I am a true sadist.

FULL HD IS SO MUCH BETTER

(via finalproblems-emptyhouses)

Source: phantom-quantum

Reichenfic: As Though His Heart Were Breaking (veronamay)

finalproblems-emptyhouses:

John doesn’t know how long he stands there in the sitting room, just staring. It feels like a long time, but it probably isn’t. Sherlock isn’t one to put up with that sort of thing.

“Sherlock,” he says through lips that feel numb. It’s the only thing he can think to say. “Sherlock.”

He hasn’t said it aloud since the funeral. Now he has to force himself not to keep repeating it.

“Hello, John.”

behindtintedglass: “You look different,” John whispers.“Do I?” Sherlock asks softly. ”Does it matter?”With trembling fingers, John reaches out to touch Sherlock’s hair, which are slightly lighter-colored at the tips, where Sherlock has dyed them ginger.“What have these three years done to you?” John quietly says.Sherlock curls his fingers around John’s wrist and gently lowers his hand until John’s palm is pressing against the side of his cheek.“It made me yearn for you more,” Sherlock answers sincerely.
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behindtintedglass:

“You look different,” John whispers.

“Do I?” Sherlock asks softly. ”Does it matter?”

With trembling fingers, John reaches out to touch Sherlock’s hair, which are slightly lighter-colored at the tips, where Sherlock has dyed them ginger.

“What have these three years done to you?” John quietly says.

Sherlock curls his fingers around John’s wrist and gently lowers his hand until John’s palm is pressing against the side of his cheek.

“It made me yearn for you more,” Sherlock answers sincerely.

(via finalproblems-emptyhouses)

Source:

afrogeekgoddess: Sherlock still feels it now, thousands of miles and hundreds of days After: John’s warm, steady fingers against his wrist, searching for a phantom pulse; the way his fingers dug into his flesh as they were pried away; the thud and scrape of his knuckles against the pavement. For days After, his knuckles carried long, dragging slashes of red. When they scabbed over, he picked the dried blood from the wounds, letting them open and bleed again, until the color was etched into his pale flesh. On the nights when he runs himself down to his bones, when he is covered in the filth and blood of the hunt, when he fears he has killed so much his heart has frozen solid, he presses his fingers to his tender wrist, finding the sweet pulse, beating out a single word: John. John. John. John. What. I. pndkjgfgbnskldgnkgkhkjadggggggg. Gh. You know, it’s been a while since I was last reduced to a keysmash but this argh. This little bit right here, on top of everything else seen lately? Owie.
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afrogeekgoddess: Sherlock still feels it now, thousands of miles and hundreds of days After: John’s warm, steady fingers against his wrist, searching for a phantom pulse; the way his fingers dug into his flesh as they were pried away; the thud and scrape of his knuckles against the pavement. For days After, his knuckles carried long, dragging slashes of red. When they scabbed over, he picked the dried blood from the wounds, letting them open and bleed again, until the color was etched into his pale flesh. On the nights when he runs himself down to his bones, when he is covered in the filth and blood of the hunt, when he fears he has killed so much his heart has frozen solid, he presses his fingers to his tender wrist, finding the sweet pulse, beating out a single word: John. John. John. John. What. I. pndkjgfgbnskldgnkgkhkjadggggggg. Gh. You know, it’s been a while since I was last reduced to a keysmash but this argh. This little bit right here, on top of everything else seen lately? Owie.
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afrogeekgoddess:

Sherlock still feels it now, thousands of miles and hundreds of days After: John’s warm, steady fingers against his wrist, searching for a phantom pulse; the way his fingers dug into his flesh as they were pried away; the thud and scrape of his knuckles against the pavement.

For days After, his knuckles carried long, dragging slashes of red. When they scabbed over, he picked the dried blood from the wounds, letting them open and bleed again, until the color was etched into his pale flesh.

On the nights when he runs himself down to his bones, when he is covered in the filth and blood of the hunt, when he fears he has killed so much his heart has frozen solid, he presses his fingers to his tender wrist, finding the sweet pulse, beating out a single word: John. John. John. John.

What. I. pndkjgfgbnskldgnkgkhkjadggggggg. Gh. You know, it’s been a while since I was last reduced to a keysmash but this argh. This little bit right here, on top of everything else seen lately? Owie.

Source: currahee-506

afrogeekgoddess: spuzz: afrogeekgoddess: barafundlebay: #i don’t understand why no one is talking about this. #the way that john looks over his shoulder to make sure that mrs. hudson is far enough away that he can finally let it all out. #john has to be alone when he finally talks about how he’s feeling. #because she doesn’t get it. #as much as mrs. hudson hurts #and she does hurt. #as much as mycroft hurts #and he does hurt. #none of them feel the way that john does. #john knows sherlock for real. #sherlock was the one thing anchoring john. #the one thing that brought him back from being lost after afghanistan. #the one thing that healed his limp. #the only person who understood all the twisted messed up thoughts that he has. #and now as far as he knows sherlock is gone. #and it cuts him so deeply that he can’t even talk about it when anyone else is around. #‘’say it now’’ his therapist says. #but he can’t. #he can’t. #because nobody gets it. #sherlock didn’t mean to anyone what he meant to john. #and it’s raw and hurting and dammit that pain is the one thing he has left to remind him of how much sherlock meant. #to remind him that what he felt was real. #and he can’t share it. #not with mrs. hudson. #not with anyone. The thing that kills me about this moment is that even when John lets go, telling Sherlock how he feels about him, he’s still so restrained, still holding back. It’s visible in his thick, wet voice; his mouth, lips pressed together, his body, so stiff and taut; even the way he breathes, as if there’s this huge bubble of pain ready to burst inside of him. What he tells Sherlock at his grave is only a sentence or two out of the volumes and volumes of feelings he has for him. And aside from the times in which John told Sherlock that he was amazing or fantastic at crime scenes, as far as we can see on screen, John has rarely, if ever, told Sherlock exactly what his friendship means to him. Yes to all of this but also I see it as one more aspect of John the caretaker. I don’t think he wants to “burden” anyone else with his emotions and his pain, he is the stoic. He wants to be the one to comfort Mrs. Hudson and protect her from pain, similar to how he is with Sherlock. I think John sees himself as the head of this little family that’s now broken and he doesn’t want to break down in front of anyone because he feels he has to be strong. He’s even still holding back at Sherlock’s grave even though Sherlock can’t see him and Mrs. Hudson can’t see him, it’s just instinct. It’s who John Watson is. Ugh. Unbearable acting from Martin. Yes. All of this. John Watson’s identity is so very bound up in caring and serving and duty and honor and it’s right down to his core. And he can’t break down completely because someone might need him. Even in death, Sherlock might need him. From a storytelling and acting standpoint, it’s absolutely brilliant, IMO, that we don’t see John’s tears. We see him on the verge of breaking down (the intro scene in Ella’s office, when the credits begin right before John starts to cry), or we only hear his tears (when he cries at Sherlock’s grave, seeing his reflection in the headstone). This lack of visible tears emphasizes the isolation and stoicism and pain that John is experiencing. Just reblogging for the commentary. Because yes, all of this.
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afrogeekgoddess: spuzz: afrogeekgoddess: barafundlebay: #i don’t understand why no one is talking about this. #the way that john looks over his shoulder to make sure that mrs. hudson is far enough away that he can finally let it all out. #john has to be alone when he finally talks about how he’s feeling. #because she doesn’t get it. #as much as mrs. hudson hurts #and she does hurt. #as much as mycroft hurts #and he does hurt. #none of them feel the way that john does. #john knows sherlock for real. #sherlock was the one thing anchoring john. #the one thing that brought him back from being lost after afghanistan. #the one thing that healed his limp. #the only person who understood all the twisted messed up thoughts that he has. #and now as far as he knows sherlock is gone. #and it cuts him so deeply that he can’t even talk about it when anyone else is around. #‘’say it now’’ his therapist says. #but he can’t. #he can’t. #because nobody gets it. #sherlock didn’t mean to anyone what he meant to john. #and it’s raw and hurting and dammit that pain is the one thing he has left to remind him of how much sherlock meant. #to remind him that what he felt was real. #and he can’t share it. #not with mrs. hudson. #not with anyone. The thing that kills me about this moment is that even when John lets go, telling Sherlock how he feels about him, he’s still so restrained, still holding back. It’s visible in his thick, wet voice; his mouth, lips pressed together, his body, so stiff and taut; even the way he breathes, as if there’s this huge bubble of pain ready to burst inside of him. What he tells Sherlock at his grave is only a sentence or two out of the volumes and volumes of feelings he has for him. And aside from the times in which John told Sherlock that he was amazing or fantastic at crime scenes, as far as we can see on screen, John has rarely, if ever, told Sherlock exactly what his friendship means to him. Yes to all of this but also I see it as one more aspect of John the caretaker. I don’t think he wants to “burden” anyone else with his emotions and his pain, he is the stoic. He wants to be the one to comfort Mrs. Hudson and protect her from pain, similar to how he is with Sherlock. I think John sees himself as the head of this little family that’s now broken and he doesn’t want to break down in front of anyone because he feels he has to be strong. He’s even still holding back at Sherlock’s grave even though Sherlock can’t see him and Mrs. Hudson can’t see him, it’s just instinct. It’s who John Watson is. Ugh. Unbearable acting from Martin. Yes. All of this. John Watson’s identity is so very bound up in caring and serving and duty and honor and it’s right down to his core. And he can’t break down completely because someone might need him. Even in death, Sherlock might need him. From a storytelling and acting standpoint, it’s absolutely brilliant, IMO, that we don’t see John’s tears. We see him on the verge of breaking down (the intro scene in Ella’s office, when the credits begin right before John starts to cry), or we only hear his tears (when he cries at Sherlock’s grave, seeing his reflection in the headstone). This lack of visible tears emphasizes the isolation and stoicism and pain that John is experiencing. Just reblogging for the commentary. Because yes, all of this.
Zoom Info
afrogeekgoddess: spuzz: afrogeekgoddess: barafundlebay: #i don’t understand why no one is talking about this. #the way that john looks over his shoulder to make sure that mrs. hudson is far enough away that he can finally let it all out. #john has to be alone when he finally talks about how he’s feeling. #because she doesn’t get it. #as much as mrs. hudson hurts #and she does hurt. #as much as mycroft hurts #and he does hurt. #none of them feel the way that john does. #john knows sherlock for real. #sherlock was the one thing anchoring john. #the one thing that brought him back from being lost after afghanistan. #the one thing that healed his limp. #the only person who understood all the twisted messed up thoughts that he has. #and now as far as he knows sherlock is gone. #and it cuts him so deeply that he can’t even talk about it when anyone else is around. #‘’say it now’’ his therapist says. #but he can’t. #he can’t. #because nobody gets it. #sherlock didn’t mean to anyone what he meant to john. #and it’s raw and hurting and dammit that pain is the one thing he has left to remind him of how much sherlock meant. #to remind him that what he felt was real. #and he can’t share it. #not with mrs. hudson. #not with anyone. The thing that kills me about this moment is that even when John lets go, telling Sherlock how he feels about him, he’s still so restrained, still holding back. It’s visible in his thick, wet voice; his mouth, lips pressed together, his body, so stiff and taut; even the way he breathes, as if there’s this huge bubble of pain ready to burst inside of him. What he tells Sherlock at his grave is only a sentence or two out of the volumes and volumes of feelings he has for him. And aside from the times in which John told Sherlock that he was amazing or fantastic at crime scenes, as far as we can see on screen, John has rarely, if ever, told Sherlock exactly what his friendship means to him. Yes to all of this but also I see it as one more aspect of John the caretaker. I don’t think he wants to “burden” anyone else with his emotions and his pain, he is the stoic. He wants to be the one to comfort Mrs. Hudson and protect her from pain, similar to how he is with Sherlock. I think John sees himself as the head of this little family that’s now broken and he doesn’t want to break down in front of anyone because he feels he has to be strong. He’s even still holding back at Sherlock’s grave even though Sherlock can’t see him and Mrs. Hudson can’t see him, it’s just instinct. It’s who John Watson is. Ugh. Unbearable acting from Martin. Yes. All of this. John Watson’s identity is so very bound up in caring and serving and duty and honor and it’s right down to his core. And he can’t break down completely because someone might need him. Even in death, Sherlock might need him. From a storytelling and acting standpoint, it’s absolutely brilliant, IMO, that we don’t see John’s tears. We see him on the verge of breaking down (the intro scene in Ella’s office, when the credits begin right before John starts to cry), or we only hear his tears (when he cries at Sherlock’s grave, seeing his reflection in the headstone). This lack of visible tears emphasizes the isolation and stoicism and pain that John is experiencing. Just reblogging for the commentary. Because yes, all of this.
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afrogeekgoddess:

spuzz:

afrogeekgoddess:

barafundlebay:

#i don’t understand why no one is talking about this. #the way that john looks over his shoulder to make sure that mrs. hudson is far enough away that he can finally let it all out. #john has to be alone when he finally talks about how he’s feeling. #because she doesn’t get it. #as much as mrs. hudson hurts #and she does hurt. #as much as mycroft hurts #and he does hurt. #none of them feel the way that john does. #john knows sherlock for real. #sherlock was the one thing anchoring john. #the one thing that brought him back from being lost after afghanistan. #the one thing that healed his limp. #the only person who understood all the twisted messed up thoughts that he has. #and now as far as he knows sherlock is gone. #and it cuts him so deeply that he can’t even talk about it when anyone else is around. #‘’say it now’’ his therapist says. #but he can’t. #he can’t. #because nobody gets it. #sherlock didn’t mean to anyone what he meant to john. #and it’s raw and hurting and dammit that pain is the one thing he has left to remind him of how much sherlock meant. #to remind him that what he felt was real. #and he can’t share it. #not with mrs. hudson. #not with anyone.

The thing that kills me about this moment is that even when John lets go, telling Sherlock how he feels about him, he’s still so restrained, still holding back. It’s visible in his thick, wet voice; his mouth, lips pressed together, his body, so stiff and taut; even the way he breathes, as if there’s this huge bubble of pain ready to burst inside of him. What he tells Sherlock at his grave is only a sentence or two out of the volumes and volumes of feelings he has for him. And aside from the times in which John told Sherlock that he was amazing or fantastic at crime scenes, as far as we can see on screen, John has rarely, if ever, told Sherlock exactly what his friendship means to him.

Yes to all of this but also I see it as one more aspect of John the caretaker. I don’t think he wants to “burden” anyone else with his emotions and his pain, he is the stoic. He wants to be the one to comfort Mrs. Hudson and protect her from pain, similar to how he is with Sherlock. I think John sees himself as the head of this little family that’s now broken and he doesn’t want to break down in front of anyone because he feels he has to be strong. He’s even still holding back at Sherlock’s grave even though Sherlock can’t see him and Mrs. Hudson can’t see him, it’s just instinct. It’s who John Watson is. Ugh. Unbearable acting from Martin.

Yes. All of this. John Watson’s identity is so very bound up in caring and serving and duty and honor and it’s right down to his core. And he can’t break down completely because someone might need him. Even in death, Sherlock might need him.

From a storytelling and acting standpoint, it’s absolutely brilliant, IMO, that we don’t see John’s tears. We see him on the verge of breaking down (the intro scene in Ella’s office, when the credits begin right before John starts to cry), or we only hear his tears (when he cries at Sherlock’s grave, seeing his reflection in the headstone). This lack of visible tears emphasizes the isolation and stoicism and pain that John is experiencing.

Just reblogging for the commentary. Because yes, all of this.

Source: martinfreemans

afrogeekgoddess: barafundlebay: #i don’t understand why no one is talking about this. #the way that john looks over his shoulder to make sure that mrs. hudson is far enough away that he can finally let it all out. #john has to be alone when he finally talks about how he’s feeling. #because she doesn’t get it. #as much as mrs. hudson hurts #and she does hurt. #as much as mycroft hurts #and he does hurt. #none of them feel the way that john does. #john knows sherlock for real. #sherlock was the one thing anchoring john. #the one thing that brought him back from being lost after afghanistan. #the one thing that healed his limp. #the only person who understood all the twisted messed up thoughts that he has. #and now as far as he knows sherlock is gone. #and it cuts him so deeply that he can’t even talk about it when anyone else is around. #‘’say it now’’ his therapist says. #but he can’t. #he can’t. #because nobody gets it. #sherlock didn’t mean to anyone what he meant to john. #and it’s raw and hurting and dammit that pain is the one thing he has left to remind him of how much sherlock meant. #to remind him that what he felt was real. #and he can’t share it. #not with mrs. hudson. #not with anyone. The thing that kills me about this moment is that even when John lets go, telling Sherlock how he feels about him, he’s still so restrained, still holding back. It’s visible in his thick, wet voice; his mouth, lips pressed together, his body, so stiff and taut; even the way he breathes, as if there’s this huge bubble of pain ready to burst inside of him. What he tells Sherlock at his grave is only a sentence or two out of the volumes and volumes of feelings he has for him. And aside from the times in which John told Sherlock that he was amazing or fantastic at crime scenes, as far as we can see on screen, John has rarely, if ever, told Sherlock exactly what his friendship means to him.
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afrogeekgoddess: barafundlebay: #i don’t understand why no one is talking about this. #the way that john looks over his shoulder to make sure that mrs. hudson is far enough away that he can finally let it all out. #john has to be alone when he finally talks about how he’s feeling. #because she doesn’t get it. #as much as mrs. hudson hurts #and she does hurt. #as much as mycroft hurts #and he does hurt. #none of them feel the way that john does. #john knows sherlock for real. #sherlock was the one thing anchoring john. #the one thing that brought him back from being lost after afghanistan. #the one thing that healed his limp. #the only person who understood all the twisted messed up thoughts that he has. #and now as far as he knows sherlock is gone. #and it cuts him so deeply that he can’t even talk about it when anyone else is around. #‘’say it now’’ his therapist says. #but he can’t. #he can’t. #because nobody gets it. #sherlock didn’t mean to anyone what he meant to john. #and it’s raw and hurting and dammit that pain is the one thing he has left to remind him of how much sherlock meant. #to remind him that what he felt was real. #and he can’t share it. #not with mrs. hudson. #not with anyone. The thing that kills me about this moment is that even when John lets go, telling Sherlock how he feels about him, he’s still so restrained, still holding back. It’s visible in his thick, wet voice; his mouth, lips pressed together, his body, so stiff and taut; even the way he breathes, as if there’s this huge bubble of pain ready to burst inside of him. What he tells Sherlock at his grave is only a sentence or two out of the volumes and volumes of feelings he has for him. And aside from the times in which John told Sherlock that he was amazing or fantastic at crime scenes, as far as we can see on screen, John has rarely, if ever, told Sherlock exactly what his friendship means to him.
Zoom Info
afrogeekgoddess: barafundlebay: #i don’t understand why no one is talking about this. #the way that john looks over his shoulder to make sure that mrs. hudson is far enough away that he can finally let it all out. #john has to be alone when he finally talks about how he’s feeling. #because she doesn’t get it. #as much as mrs. hudson hurts #and she does hurt. #as much as mycroft hurts #and he does hurt. #none of them feel the way that john does. #john knows sherlock for real. #sherlock was the one thing anchoring john. #the one thing that brought him back from being lost after afghanistan. #the one thing that healed his limp. #the only person who understood all the twisted messed up thoughts that he has. #and now as far as he knows sherlock is gone. #and it cuts him so deeply that he can’t even talk about it when anyone else is around. #‘’say it now’’ his therapist says. #but he can’t. #he can’t. #because nobody gets it. #sherlock didn’t mean to anyone what he meant to john. #and it’s raw and hurting and dammit that pain is the one thing he has left to remind him of how much sherlock meant. #to remind him that what he felt was real. #and he can’t share it. #not with mrs. hudson. #not with anyone. The thing that kills me about this moment is that even when John lets go, telling Sherlock how he feels about him, he’s still so restrained, still holding back. It’s visible in his thick, wet voice; his mouth, lips pressed together, his body, so stiff and taut; even the way he breathes, as if there’s this huge bubble of pain ready to burst inside of him. What he tells Sherlock at his grave is only a sentence or two out of the volumes and volumes of feelings he has for him. And aside from the times in which John told Sherlock that he was amazing or fantastic at crime scenes, as far as we can see on screen, John has rarely, if ever, told Sherlock exactly what his friendship means to him.
Zoom Info

afrogeekgoddess:

barafundlebay:

#i don’t understand why no one is talking about this. #the way that john looks over his shoulder to make sure that mrs. hudson is far enough away that he can finally let it all out. #john has to be alone when he finally talks about how he’s feeling. #because she doesn’t get it. #as much as mrs. hudson hurts #and she does hurt. #as much as mycroft hurts #and he does hurt. #none of them feel the way that john does. #john knows sherlock for real. #sherlock was the one thing anchoring john. #the one thing that brought him back from being lost after afghanistan. #the one thing that healed his limp. #the only person who understood all the twisted messed up thoughts that he has. #and now as far as he knows sherlock is gone. #and it cuts him so deeply that he can’t even talk about it when anyone else is around. #‘’say it now’’ his therapist says. #but he can’t. #he can’t. #because nobody gets it. #sherlock didn’t mean to anyone what he meant to john. #and it’s raw and hurting and dammit that pain is the one thing he has left to remind him of how much sherlock meant. #to remind him that what he felt was real. #and he can’t share it. #not with mrs. hudson. #not with anyone.

The thing that kills me about this moment is that even when John lets go, telling Sherlock how he feels about him, he’s still so restrained, still holding back. It’s visible in his thick, wet voice; his mouth, lips pressed together, his body, so stiff and taut; even the way he breathes, as if there’s this huge bubble of pain ready to burst inside of him. What he tells Sherlock at his grave is only a sentence or two out of the volumes and volumes of feelings he has for him. And aside from the times in which John told Sherlock that he was amazing or fantastic at crime scenes, as far as we can see on screen, John has rarely, if ever, told Sherlock exactly what his friendship means to him.

Source: martinfreemans