S: Don't be smart, Sherlock, I'm the smart one.
M: I am the smart one.
S: I used to think I was an idiot.
M: Both of us thought you were an idiot, Sherlock. We had nothing else to go on, 'til we met other children.
I have a feeling that John just really enjoys pissing Mycroft off
I honestly don’t just reblog all veirdessa’s gifsets, they’re just all individually epic
John’s sass is always the best with Mycroft
Dear Diary, (and Dear Mycroft if you’re reading this, kindly remove your vile hairs from the shower plughole, you
repeldisgust me. Yes, I deduced which of the 14 showers in this ridiculous mansion is your personal one and I USED IT. Also, you need to get more of the shower gel that smells like grapefruit that you’re so fond of, because I USED IT.)
Jumped off a building today, didn’t die. Not going to explain how in case diary falls into enemy hands. (Dear enemies if you’re reading this, congratulations on learning to read, you have placed yourself above the other knuckle-dragging simians I tend to meet,
please do not use your skills to read the entry entitled ‘an ode to John Watson’s jawline’, but most of this diary is encrypted anyway, you wouldn’t get it. You should probably just put it down and not read it especially not the entry that just reads Mr Sherlock Watson over and over in several different varieties of handwriting. Yes, better if you don’t read it. Wouldn’t want to make you look stupid.)
So, worst day ever (really this time). Jumped off a building and didn’t die, but died inside because John seemed v sad about this. Have nice ring of bruises on wrist from useless attempt to take pulse. Hurts pleasantly. Plus side: am now referred to as friend! Have moved up from colleague (take that Sebastian Wilkes, you tosser). Other plus side of whole ordeal: arch-rival dead. Will miss civilised conversations about JSB (that’s Bach, dear enemies, if you’re still reading) over tea though. What if next arch-rival enjoys rap “music” and Budweiser? Note to self: must be vigilant when choosing next arch-rival. To do: draw up criteria table for advertisement.
World thinks I am a fraud. Bit not good. Stupid world; knew I was too good for it. Never cared for world anyway.
John still a believer. Made
heartbreakingsentimental blog post to this effect and suitably tragic graveside confession. Now certain of reciprocity of love. Also, have achieved ultimate intimacy: hand-holding, whilst handcuffed and being chased by police. Perfection. Drawing ever closer to results stage of paper about effect of orgasm on brain of higher being(s?). Note to self: must be repeatable. For science. To do: draw up criteria table for seduction.
Paper will have to wait. Am continuing pretence of being dead for now. Going to track down and dismantle ex-arch-rival’s web of crime, may be some time. Did not mean to rhyme. Either time. Blast!
Plus side of going to dismantle web of crime: will get away from clutches of Mycroft.
All plus-sides are hollow platitudes. Miss John already. Like right hand. Like heart.
May be some time.
Dear brother, it is not MY hair that curls like the devil’s goatee. Kindly remove YOUR vile hairs from the shower plughole. And the shower gel you are referring to is in fact a… concoction I made up that may or may not include Nair (a hair removal cream, brother, do keep up. Really, this deletion nonsense of yours will cause you to miss something extremely obvious one day). I do hope you did not use the “shower gel” on any… delicate areas. I trust you will cease and desist in using my personal shower now, and select any of the other 13 that are available to you for the remainder of your stay.
P.S. in light of that diary entry you mention (very poorly crossed out indeed, Sherlock) and your most ardent wish to change your name, I have procured the necessary paperwork. It is on your bureau. Please refrain from setting fire to it.
Best thing I’ve ever read