I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they’re all painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a new born baby it just happens ev’ry day
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
It’s not easy facin’ up when your whole world is blackThe Rolling Stones, Paint it Black
Sam & Lucifer - Photoshop CS3
More on Deviantart and my blog
friend: ugh my favorite show only comes on once a week
me:
me:
me:
/gets up
/flips table
/kicks chair
/throws various objects into the air
/pushes friend
me: you will never know the pain of a sherlockian
We Will Be Censoring All Of Tumblr Tonight At 11:59:59 EST. If You Dont Reblog This Before Then, All The Content On Your Blog Will Be Lost.
only cause the source is CNN
…..
The source is CNN? Well shit.
I don’t know if this shit’s real, but you can never be too careful? I sound pretty dumb right now.
Eh…why not?
…….since i dont know if this is true i will just do it.
oops paranoid Sophia is paranoid
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
A dramatic reading of LMFAO’s “Sexy and I Know It”.
GIRL LOOK AT THAT BODY … GIRRRL LOOK AT THAT BODDDYYY.
I was holding it together until ‘wiggle’ and then I fucking collapsed.
Teacher: “I expect you all to do really well on the test on Monday. You have ALL weekend to study.”
Us:
“That’s a nice weapon you’ve got there, Doctor Watson.” Sebastian smirked.
The small group had found themselves at the very top of the palace of Westminster; right in the bell tower, just above the clock face of Big Ben. The pursuit of the deadly mercenary had led them all to the terrace that bordered the infamous Gothic structure; Sebastian had strategically placed Hamish on the ledge, between him and his parents.
John clenched his hand even tighter around the gun. “Touch one hair on that boy’s head, and you’ll become well acquainted with it.” He swore.
“What did you give him?” Sherlock hissed; eyes fixed on Hamish. He seemed so unsteady on that perch. He had never had to fight so hard to keep his body from reacting on instinct, and simply snatching Hamish away from the high rim on which he stood.
Sebastian shrugged, keeping his hands visible and in the air. “Dunno what you mean.”
“His pupils are dilated, he’s sweating, skin flushed, he appears disoriented and cannot stop his body from trembling so TELL ME WHAT YOU GAVE HIM!” Sherlock’s voice grew louder with each word, until he’d resorted to out-right yelling. The severity of the situation was clear, and despite being outnumbered, both Sherlock and John knew that Sebastian still had the advantage. Their son was not out of harm’s way yet.
“Hound.” Sebastian mused gruffly, sly grin still evident on his lips. “That’s what the project was called, wasn’t it? Jim told me all about it. Fascinating, really. Shame they had to stop it… that drug has a thousand uses.”
John cocked the gun into its loaded position, “Let him go. And step away… slowly…”
Sebastian stared at John silently for a few minutes. The only sound to be heard was the soft static of wind whipping around them.
The mercenary smiled again, and cocked his elbow, successfully hitting Hamish off-balance to send him toppling right off the ledge.
John had never heard such frenzied terror in Sherlock’s voice before, as he yelled and bolted toward the ledge after his son… but the army-doctor was more focused on firing his weapon at Moriarty’s right-hand man.
Two bullets: one in Sebastian’s shoulder just above his heart, and the other in his leg succeeded in crippling the mercenary to the ground.
With Sebastian immobilized, John turned his attention toward his partner, who was already positioning himself over the ledge. He initially feared the worst, but when he heard Sherlock frantically shouting instructions - he knew there was a chance that fate had been on their side…
Leaning over, John saw Hamish weakly clutching to the side of the protruding architecture. He was still shaking, sweating, and his eyes were the size of dinner plates. He was staring up at Sherlock and John as if they were strangers. The doctor knew first hand what the H.O.U.N.D drug was capable of, and John could only imagine what terrors were playing out before Hamish’s eyes.
The dire situation they now found themselves in certainly didn’t help.
Sherlock was almost completely suspended over the ledge himself in a desperate effort to reach Hamish. John grasped Sherlock’s free arm, and braced himself against the solid stone of the terrace, while Sherlock attempted to utilize his long limbs in the hopes of reaching his son.
“Hamish… take my hand…” He coaxed over the wind that continued to whip around them. “Hamish… it’s me!” Sherlock pleaded, “Take my HAND!”
He saw his son tentatively look up at him; sweat still dripping down his temples, eyes bleary and confused, and his hands and legs shaking with weary tension. He wouldn’t be able to hang on much longer, that much was clear to the detective.
Heaving himself forward (and simultaneously trusting John to keep hold of him no matter what) - Sherlock made another attempt to grab Hamish, but he just managed to brush his hand over the top of his son’s head. The child flinched and spouted some nonsensical gibberish as he looked around wildly, becoming a bit distracted by the distant view of the London Eye.
“HAMISH!” Sherlock yelled, commanding the boy’s attention again. In a last, frantic attempt, the detective lunged forward and managed to snag Hamish’s thin wrist in his hand.
His son screamed in shock, and jolted back; his foot slipping from it’s hold. He flailed wildly in an attempt to grasp something, anything - and thankfully resorted to grasping onto his father’s sturdy arm. With John’s help, Sherlock yanked Hamish back up to the ledge and over onto the ground.
Sherlock collapsed back onto the ground, clutching Hamish in his arms. He was nearly hyperventilating as his adrenaline began to diminish with the knowledge that Hamish was safe again (close call that it was).
Hamish was still shaking and trying to shift in Sherlock’s arms, jabbering a string of words that didn’t make sense to either of his parents… but they knew the drug would wear off soon enough.
A gargled cough brought their attention back to Sebastian, who was still bleeding out on the ground. He was chuckling, very weakly… as if the sight of Sherlock so utterly terrified and furious was just as amusing to him as it would have been to Jim.
He’d been trying to achieve a just revenge for Moriarty’s death ever since The Fall. He blamed Sherlock, and had already succeeded in killing Irene in search of his retribution. Hamish was going to be the final piece…
John shifted his eyes to Sherlock, only to find his partner staring back at him with eyes as cold and furious as he’d ever seen. Lifting his hands, Sherlock placed them against either side of Hamish’s head, and covered his ears. Then he drew his son’s head into his chest to obstruct any possible view of what was about to happen.
John didn’t think twice about raising the gun, and putting a final bullet through Sebastian’s head.
Music choice: Prepared to do Anything - David Arnold/Michael Pierce, Sherlock OST
#parentlock
