Did you get my text?

pemmsaskia:

concludes:

ayamayamayam:

do-you-have-a-flag:

concludes:

weavile:

quick speedpaint ‘cause this has been in my head for ages. phone depicted above is Sherlock’s, not John’s.

#I imagine there are days where John probably can’t even make the stairs and slumps against the staircase and holds his head in his hands #and wonders why of all the things that had to be taken away from him it’d be Sherlock 

jesus chriiiist and some days he texts sherlock without thinking: ‘gone to tesco, what do you need? -JW’ and sherlock’s phone pings from inside his trouser pocket and if john could breathe from the ache in his chest he would scream

stop it

no

stop

And then, on good days (when he can stand to think about him and all the good memories they had), John calls Sherlock’s cell just to hear his voice before he leaves a voicemail. It’s a ridiculous sounding message, but so inherently Sherlock, spoken in that bored and exasperated tone John knew too well: “Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. Don’t bother leaving a message if it isn’t pertinent to a case.”

And, sometimes, hearing his voice would be enough for John. Enough to make him smile and laugh, and hang up and go about with his day.

Sometimes, though, he’d have to leave a voicemail. Just a “Hey, Sherlock, I’m not going to be at the flat tonight, just wanted to let you know” or even “Mrs. Hudson said you shot her wall again. I’ll let you take care of it this time.”

And, just once, years after Sherlock’s death, he said,

“I love you.”

Once was enough.

OMG UGLIEST CRYING

John stops blogging. He can’t see the point of it; nothing ever happens to him anymore - he’s just staying alive. But the good days begin to outnumber the bad ones through sheer bloody-minded placidity, and John fills the inbox of Sherlock’s phone with inane little messages and expects nothing back. With: “How many times can I get into a row with the chip and pin machine before they ban me? -JW”, or “Triple murder in the papers today. You’d have loved it. -JW”, or simply “Bloody raining again. -JW” - hundreds of texts about everything and nothing at the same time. And John stops blogging. But he never stops talking about his day.

CRYING CRYING CRYING

(via cakeandsexandcoffeecups)