sardonicsoldier-blog
D O C T O R.
Bachelor of Medicine and Surgery. Trained at St. Bartholomew's Hospital as a British Army doctor and served as a Captain in the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.
Unhealthy addiction for danger and adventure.
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Favorite scenes of The Abominable Bride (8/?) - Waterfall part ¾ (part1, part 2)
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#Tʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ·ꜱ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ϙᴜᴇᴜᴇ.#I·ᴍ ᴀɴ ᴀʀᴍʏ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ I ᴄᴀɴ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ʙᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ɴᴀᴍɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ.—﹙₁₈₀₀ꜱ ᴠ.﹚#Tʜᴇ ʙʀᴀᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ.—﹙Jᴏʜɴ Wᴀᴛꜱᴏɴ﹚
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John: You drugged me?!
Sherlock: You were yawning, so I put uppers in your coffee. If you’re still yawning after that, then the yawning is a symptom…
John: You don’t know my medical history! You could have killed me! [yawns]
Sherlock: Aha! You yawned!
John: AHA! YOU TRIED TO KILL ME!
#Tʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ·ꜱ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ϙᴜᴇᴜᴇ.#ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ɢɪɢɢʟᴇ ɪᴛ's ᴀ ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ sᴄᴇɴᴇ! sᴛᴏᴘ ɪᴛ!—(ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ)#Johnlock#Tʜᴇ ʙʀᴀᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ.—﹙Jᴏʜɴ Wᴀᴛꜱᴏɴ﹚
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John: What’s the easiest way to steal a man’s wallet?
Eurus: Knife to the throat.
Sherlock: Gun to the back.
Mycroft: Poison in his cup.
John: You’re all horrible.
#Tʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ·ꜱ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ϙᴜᴇᴜᴇ.#ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ɢɪɢɢʟᴇ ɪᴛ's ᴀ ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ sᴄᴇɴᴇ! sᴛᴏᴘ ɪᴛ!—(ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ)#Tʜᴇ ʙʀᴀᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ.—﹙Jᴏʜɴ Wᴀᴛꜱᴏɴ﹚
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#Tʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ·ꜱ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ϙᴜᴇᴜᴇ.#(ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴsᴇᴘᴀʀᴀʙʟᴇ ᴅᴜᴏ.)#Johnlock#Tʜᴇ ʙʀᴀᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ.—﹙Jᴏʜɴ Wᴀᴛꜱᴏɴ﹚
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❝ Well, then he probably ate them. I'll talk to Sherlock about that and make sure he asks before taking some. ❞
John promised gently, hand digging into the pocket of his trousers to search for his wallet, fingertips grazing against the dark leather.
❝ The HobNobs? I'll get two packs then. One for you and one for him since he favours them to the point where he / wolfs / them down as he did. ❞
"Dad! Father hate the last of the biscuits I had hidden in the cupboard!"
❝ When did he do that– And / why / did you hide them–? ❞
Honestly, John doesn’t even know why he’s even questioning the logic in the situation anymore, he should be used to this behaviour.
A gentle sigh was breathed and he pulled a brow upwards.
❝ Right.. Alright then, want me to go to the store later and get some more? You’ll have to tell me what type of biscuits you like, though. ❞
#ᴡᴇ sᴏʟᴠᴇ ᴄʀɪᴍᴇs ɪ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ғᴏʀɢᴇᴛs ʜɪs ᴘᴀɴᴛs.—( ɪᴄ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ.)#jemmaagentofshield#Tʜᴇ ʙʀᴀᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ.—﹙Jᴏʜɴ Wᴀᴛꜱᴏɴ﹚#[i couldnt find an icon oops]#[thisll have to do for now]
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❝ Indeed.. Well, we both agree that he's an idiot for entirely different reasons but, yes, he was an imbecile. ❞
Eyes moved towards the pistol that gently prodded against his ribs, and yet, another grin was shown. He should have known that the rather clever approach to shoot the victim under the radar of Sherlock surely wouldn't get past him without his knowledge.
Seeing the confusion that plagued the expression of the detective, he let out a loud chuckle and continued to point at the propped collars.
❝ Oh you know what I'm talking about.. The way you get all mysterious with your cheekbones.. Propping your collar to make yourself look cool. ❞
sardonicsoldier:
Another series of blinks ensued, before a tiny smile had curled his lips. They did, didn’t they? Though it wasn’t his first rodeo concerning serial killers. Sherlock acted as if it was.
❝ I ‒ We did, didn’t we? Well, I assure you, I’m really fine. The serial killer wasn’t a very nice man either.. Wasn’t he? I’m just glad we took care of him when we did. ❞
John had stated, rolling his shoulders with a light shrug as he watched his friend turn up his collar ‒ a habit in which John both admired and disliked.
❝ Can we.. Can we not do this right now? I’d appreciate that. ❞
He grunted, lifting a hand to gesture towards the turned up collars which shielded the sides of the detective’s face.
“No, he wasn’t. Quite an idiot, really. Shouldn’t have given himself away so easily. Nice shot, though,” Sherlock murmured, gesturing toward the handgun that he knew was nestled in the doctor’s coat pocket.
The man John had shot was simply incapacitated from the wound, not dead, but still, the detective was grateful for the help when he lacked his own gun. Britain’s gun laws had gotten stricter and not even Mycroft would pardon him getting a handgun. He glanced back at the swarm of policemen and paramedics that crowded the scene behind them with their sirens wailing and frantic rushing about. The adrenaline rush was over, but he had gotten the high he needed.
Upon hearing John’s next words, Sherlock cocked his head to the side. “Do what?” The movement of tugging his coat collar was just a force of habit at this point. “I’m not doing anything.” His brow furrowed in confusion as he dipped his hands into the pockets of his Belstaff.
#ᴡᴇ sᴏʟᴠᴇ ᴄʀɪᴍᴇs ɪ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ғᴏʀɢᴇᴛs ʜɪs ᴘᴀɴᴛs.—( ɪᴄ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ.)#decrstalker#(ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴsᴇᴘᴀʀᴀʙʟᴇ ᴅᴜᴏ.)#[aaa im glad you think so!]#[maybe if my anxiety wasnt such a heck ill pm you some time!]#[i just gotta convince myself to do so haha]
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#I·ᴍ ᴀɴ Aʀᴍʏ Dᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ I ᴄᴀɴ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ʙᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ɴᴀᴍɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ.—﹙₁₈₀₀ꜱ ᴠ.﹚#Tʜᴇ ʙʀᴀᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ.—﹙Jᴏʜɴ Wᴀᴛꜱᴏɴ﹚#(ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴsᴇᴘᴀʀᴀʙʟᴇ ᴅᴜᴏ.)#[the character development i love it]
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“But look how you care about John Watson. Your damsel in distress.”
#Tʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ·ꜱ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ϙᴜᴇᴜᴇ.#(ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴsᴇᴘᴀʀᴀʙʟᴇ ᴅᴜᴏ.)#Tʜᴇ ʙʀᴀᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ.—﹙Jᴏʜɴ Wᴀᴛꜱᴏɴ﹚#Johnlock
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"Dad! Father hate the last of the biscuits I had hidden in the cupboard!"
❝ When did he do that– And / why / did you hide them–? ❞
Honestly, John doesn’t even know why he’s even questioning the logic in the situation anymore, he should be used to this behaviour.
A gentle sigh was breathed and he pulled a brow upwards.
❝ Right.. Alright then, want me to go to the store later and get some more? You’ll have to tell me what type of biscuits you like, though. ❞
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Seeing that Sherlock had hidden away into the depths of his mind for a little while, and noticing the blood that dribbled down and stained his shirt, he took a quiet note to make sure he did the laundry-- and hopefully it'll get out at least most of the stains.
An involuntary snort escaped the soldier and he took another tissue from Sherlock's jacket, dabbing along his red nostrils gently as he tilted his head.
❝ Don't bother refusing, Sherlock. I'll phone Lestrade and tell him why we're leaving. ❞
Voice firm and strict, and handing the pink-tinted tissue to Sherlock, he stood to his feet, dusting himself off and began to lead the way back to their flat.
Despite him attempting the impossible there was no response to his actual apology ’ isn’t that what ‘people’ normally do? ’ he thought to himself with a sigh.guilt kicking in and yelling even louder in the back of his mind , it was apparent that John was still too mad to listen to him
Eyes turning to check on him every few minutes and of course he was greeted with sharp, murderous glares. Sherlock gave up and gave him the time he needed .still, that didn’t change anything. Why was he feeling guilty in the first place? Others opinions never mattered to him. .why would the fact of knowing that someone was too bothered by him or any of his rude actions trouble him so?
But John wasn’t just anyone , was he? The first actual friend he ever had, who remained by hos side even though he was being nothing but the annoying detective he was
He was too caught up with his own thoughts he didn’t realize the blood still running down his nose, he dozed off for and forgot to keep pressure on his nose.quickly, he grabbed yet another tissue and wiped the mess away while muttering something to himself , there goes another one of his favourite shirts
With that he didn’t take notice of the doctor moving to his side to take a better look, his attention only came back when his hand was moved away
“ No, John, John . It’s fine” he didn’t put much struggle into stopping him though ( He was starting to feel a little dizzy) maybe it was best to leave this to him. Silence spread once again, as if he Was a child waiting for his punishment, sherlock stared silently at the bloody tissue while John took a look
“Alright then” he mumbled with a nod.he didn’t want to leave yet , not when he was this close to solving another case, but he didn’t argue, he deserved this.
#ᴡᴇ sᴏʟᴠᴇ ᴄʀɪᴍᴇs ɪ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ғᴏʀɢᴇᴛs ʜɪs ᴘᴀɴᴛs.—( ɪᴄ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ.)#(ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴsᴇᴘᴀʀᴀʙʟᴇ ᴅᴜᴏ.)#xxsherlockedxx#[oh my god-- exactly yes]#[and then they make up for it by taking care of each others injuries]#[well at least jawn will]#[also its fine!! longer replies get my muse up even more~]
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Why would I be faking?
Because you’re a liar.
#Tʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ·ꜱ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ϙᴜᴇᴜᴇ.#(ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴsᴇᴘᴀʀᴀʙʟᴇ ᴅᴜᴏ.)#johnlock#Tʜᴇ ʙʀᴀᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ.—﹙Jᴏʜɴ Wᴀᴛꜱᴏɴ﹚
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At Buckingham Palace, fine.
#Tʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ·ꜱ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ϙᴜᴇᴜᴇ.#Tʜᴇ ʙʀᴀᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ.—﹙Jᴏʜɴ Wᴀᴛꜱᴏɴ﹚#(ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴsᴇᴘᴀʀᴀʙʟᴇ ᴅᴜᴏ.)#Johnlock#ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ɢɪɢɢʟᴇ ɪᴛ's ᴀ ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ sᴄᴇɴᴇ! sᴛᴏᴘ ɪᴛ!—(ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ)#[I love their friendship so much.]#[Just a wonderful dynamic]#[name a better duo i'll wait.]
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“Amazing, how fire exposes our priorities.”
#Tʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ·ꜱ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ϙᴜᴇᴜᴇ.#(ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴsᴇᴘᴀʀᴀʙʟᴇ ᴅᴜᴏ.)#johnlock#Tʜᴇ ʙʀᴀᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ.—﹙Jᴏʜɴ Wᴀᴛꜱᴏɴ﹚
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No words were spoken to his friend, merely glares, sharp as daggers, were thrown in his direction. He wasn’t sure which angered him more, the fact that Sherlock was oblivious to why he had been furious with him in the first place, or the / half-assed / apology bestowed unto him.
Well, he shouldn’t be that surprised, this man was a damned machine. How did the detective expect him to just roll over and allow him to insult him in such a way? Saying that he was as much help as a sloth.. It isn’t as if everyone can keep up with the man’s massive intellect!
More gasping breaths were taken as he rubbed his bruised knuckles against his eyes, which he had shut for just a moment. The more time he took to calm himself down.. the more guilt swelled in the pit of his stomach. Mumbling a few curse words over and over again, he turned his attention towards Sherlock, eyes moving to glance at the bloodied tissues and his still bleeding nose. Doctor instincts kicking in, he moved over to Sherlock and took a seat beside him, outstretching a palm to gently grasp his wrist, pulling the hand that clutched the tissues back to thoroughly examine his nose.
Silence still plagued the air, aside from John’s quiet murmurs.
“ ..Thankfully your nose isn’t broken. It’s a bit twisted but I can set it straight if we head to the flat now. I have a first-aid kit stashed in my room. ”
“ And what..? ” he questioned after his sudden silence. The tissue pressing more pressure on his nose in attempt to stop the bleeding, this was not the first time he received a punch from the furious doctor ( Or soldier as he keeps on reminding him ) And the fact that he wasn’t acting as the responsible man he was,seeing that much blood soak the tissue and ignoring it confirmed the fact that he was in no mood in dealing with the stubborn detective
Emotions. He thought to himself, of course,that was it.John was too bothered and occupied with whatever he was feeling, anger,stress anything of that sort,while Sherlock was too busy to see that,rambling away about their current progress in the case and perhaps hurting him in the process? Indeed Sherlock was rather thick when it came to this ( Being human )
A sigh escaped his lips before he went completely silent,sitting on the pavement beside him ( With a good distance between them he didn’t feel like receiving another punch ). He took a breath and another tissue, the silence so uncomfortable and was starting to make him feel a little guilty,despite knowing he may not be forgiven,again. He went ahead with this “ Sorry ” he mumbled
#ᴡᴇ sᴏʟᴠᴇ ᴄʀɪᴍᴇs ɪ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ғᴏʀɢᴇᴛs ʜɪs ᴘᴀɴᴛs.—( ɪᴄ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ.)#(ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴsᴇᴘᴀʀᴀʙʟᴇ ᴅᴜᴏ.)#xxsherlockedxx#[aw man you got john feeling guilty]#[even if sherlock deserved it]#[time to be a caretaker again.]
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John + wet hair
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