On his relationship with his brother.

On his relationship with his brother.

(via stuckouthere)

34 minutes ago · 5,062 notes · Source

- I don’t do that.
- Yeah, you do.

(via youcouldbethatclever)

4 hours ago · 6,139 notes · Source

tinuhhy:

hi five if you had this toy as a child :D

tinuhhy:

hi five if you had this toy as a child :D

(via preciousanne)

8 hours ago · 1,337 notes · Source

sofiatdraws:


You’re me.

Sherlock and Moriarty in Reichenbach Falls… Amazing episode and perfect actors!
About 7 hours in Sai and PS CS5 =)

sofiatdraws:

You’re me.

Sherlock and Moriarty in Reichenbach Falls… Amazing episode and perfect actors!

About 7 hours in Sai and PS CS5 =)

16 hours ago · 39 notes · Source

maskedfangirl:

John never used to be afraid of heights. He didn’t used to be afraid of much of anything, to be honest. Now, God help him, walking under tall buildings makes his breath get tighter. He dreams about falling all the time - sometimes as himself, sometimes as Sherlock, sometimes watching either from the street. He—or Sherlock—never hits the pavement, but he doesn’t need to hit the pavement to feel it.
Every once in a while, he dreams he’s up on the roof with Sherlock, watching another, more naive version of himself on the street pleading into his mobile. The version of him that knows what comes next walks up behind his friend, locks his arms around him, and holds tight, breathing in the smell of London in that wool coat and letting his weight pull them both down from the ledge. He doesn’t let go. 
His bed feels particularly cold after those dreams.

maskedfangirl:

John never used to be afraid of heights. He didn’t used to be afraid of much of anything, to be honest. Now, God help him, walking under tall buildings makes his breath get tighter. He dreams about falling all the time - sometimes as himself, sometimes as Sherlock, sometimes watching either from the street. He—or Sherlock—never hits the pavement, but he doesn’t need to hit the pavement to feel it.

Every once in a while, he dreams he’s up on the roof with Sherlock, watching another, more naive version of himself on the street pleading into his mobile. The version of him that knows what comes next walks up behind his friend, locks his arms around him, and holds tight, breathing in the smell of London in that wool coat and letting his weight pull them both down from the ledge. He doesn’t let go. 

His bed feels particularly cold after those dreams.

20 hours ago · 1,677 notes · Source