FuckYeah Fight!lock

Johnlock. Fighting.


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Reblogged from fuckyeahfightlock

musthaveblackedout said: So I'm thinking about the cabbie getting all cleaned up to go to an important state dinner or whatever and Myc takes him to a tailor and a barber who combs the crumbs out and parts it down the middle, and Jeff keeps fidgeting with his tie and smiling at all the fancy people and eating all the food with his fingers and dancing with the hat rack, feeling just like Cinderella at the ball

musthaveblackedout:

fuckyeahfightlock:

Lookin’ all:

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Mycroft: “Mon petit chou,” Jeff, it’s a French term of endearment that means “my little cabbage” and is particularly fitting because you smell like a cabbage.
Jeff: Yes sir. Thank you sir.

Their love is so real. It’s what makes the sex so fucking hot. Like, when Mycroft is naked but for a thick leather dog collar that says “BITCH” on it in platinum letters (custom from the back, back room at Tiffany’s), with his tongue between each of the Cabbie’s toes in turn, there’s not just an insane amount of boner-fodder in the room, there’s a certain, you know, sweetness. Because of all the cabs in all the world, you walked into mine. And then forgot your umbrella and that lipstick-lezzie assistant of yours had to chase me all over London for it. Let’s not talk about her right now, please; keep her out of your mouth. You talk like you love her or somefink. Of course I don’t love her don’t be ridiculous. Didn’t you just arrange her another pay rise, tho? She’s buying a Whippet.

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Reblogged from fuckyeahfightlock

musthaveblackedout said: So I'm thinking about the cabbie getting all cleaned up to go to an important state dinner or whatever and Myc takes him to a tailor and a barber who combs the crumbs out and parts it down the middle, and Jeff keeps fidgeting with his tie and smiling at all the fancy people and eating all the food with his fingers and dancing with the hat rack, feeling just like Cinderella at the ball

Lookin’ all:

image

Reblogged from mycroftscakeaddiction
mycroftscakeaddiction:

I’ll leave y’all with some John Watson butt, ‘cause why not. Also look at his cute lil belt.

Important.

mycroftscakeaddiction:

I’ll leave y’all with some John Watson butt, ‘cause why not. Also look at his cute lil belt.

Important.

(via watsonsdick)

Reblogged from sherlock-undercover
musthaveblackedout:

fuckyeahfightlock:

sherlock-undercover:

#I’ll do that with a look   #Fucking hot

"Stop it now."
"…You wake up every day knowing there’s no one in the whole world would mind if you hadn’t woken up at all."
"I. Said. Stop it.”
"All you have in the world is four cheap shirts, your drinking habit, and that gun in your nightstand."
John raised his head, jaw clenching, molars grinding. Sherlock—curse the night he ever even heard the name of Sherlock Holmes—was smirking crookedly, opiate-widened pupils two black holes in the bloodshot whites of his half-closed eyes.
"Oh," Sherlock went on, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "And me, of course. Don’t forget, Doctor Watson, you’ve still got me."
John’s fists clenched at his sides. There was a rush in his ears like a cascade of radio-static and his temples throbbed.
"Me and your gun." Sherlock leaned back and let his eyes flutter shut. He slurred, "Less ‘ave a drink. To us."
John saw red, rushed forward.
No more.

Jesus H. Watson

Yeah, when I get back to it, this is totally going to be part of the end of the series. I was just spewing, but this gave me a hook for a previously amorphous blob of an idea.

musthaveblackedout:

fuckyeahfightlock:

sherlock-undercover:

#I’ll do that with a look   #Fucking hot

"Stop it now."

"…You wake up every day knowing there’s no one in the whole world would mind if you hadn’t woken up at all."

"I. Said. Stop it.”

"All you have in the world is four cheap shirts, your drinking habit, and that gun in your nightstand."

John raised his head, jaw clenching, molars grinding. Sherlock—curse the night he ever even heard the name of Sherlock Holmes—was smirking crookedly, opiate-widened pupils two black holes in the bloodshot whites of his half-closed eyes.

"Oh," Sherlock went on, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "And me, of course. Don’t forget, Doctor Watson, you’ve still got me."

John’s fists clenched at his sides. There was a rush in his ears like a cascade of radio-static and his temples throbbed.

"Me and your gun." Sherlock leaned back and let his eyes flutter shut. He slurred, "Less ‘ave a drink. To us."

John saw red, rushed forward.

No more.

Jesus H. Watson

Yeah, when I get back to it, this is totally going to be part of the end of the series. I was just spewing, but this gave me a hook for a previously amorphous blob of an idea.

I hate to be That Guy, but of course I secretly love to be That Guy.

Reblogged from uncreativeart

dulcimergecko said: Smut request, you say? Might I suggest 'As long as it takes' by PlainJane on A03? I like it because a) consent, b) safer sex/responsible sexual behavior and c) details. Lots of details. Summary: 'Anything Sherlock wants. All night. No strings attached.' Tags: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, First Kiss, First Time, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Frottage, Misunderstanding, Gambling, indecent proposal, Friends to Lovers, Post-Reichenbach, John Watson POV. Want more? Let me know...

Thanks for the rec, dg. Will add that to the ever-growing list of things to check out.

Reblogged from ascandalinthefandom

Irene Adler interrupting a jolly ol’ flirt-session to tell Moriarty she’s got those photos he wanted.

(Source: ascandalinthefandom, via sweetlittlekitty)

Reblogged from fuckyeahfightlock

jinglebell-fic:

fuckyeahfightlock:

You know you’re really onto something when you’re comparing busts of Roman emperors to find the one that most resembles Mycroft Holmes.

Thank fucking GOD for whoever commissioned this story from you, is all I’m saying.

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