watsonsdick

watsonsdick:

duchesscloverly:

duchesscloverly:

Once a week John and Lestrade get together to moan about their Holmes. 

Song: Bug A Boo by Destiny’s Child
Clips: BBC Sherlock / Scott & Bailey 

Happy Moan About Your Holmes Wednesday! This is one of those things that probably sounded better in my head. 

My other videos can be found on my YouTube page or on my video tag

Reblogging this because it’s Wednesday so why not?

This is my favourite video in the world

ashestoashesjc

newyorksjojo:

luce-felice:

Blossom was all about the do-good, American Heroes.

Buttercup loved the edgy heroes with dark pasts and complex morals.

Bubbles knew Japanese well enough to read and understand comic books from Japan intended for her age group. That’s actually very impressive, but then again, this is the girl who can speak squirrel.

I think you mean “Bubbles was a fucking weeb”

stitchlock
ivyblossom:

bakerstreetbabes:


BEING A REPRINT FROM THE REMINISCENCES OF JOHN H. WATSON, M.D., LATE OF THE ARMY MEDICAL DEPARTMENT

I love that Watson makes this list and then realises how creepy it is and throws it into the fire. And yet, we still get to read it when he remembers it and writes it down for us.

I kind of want to see Sherlock Holmes’ impractical garden. It would be full of poisonous things, and he’d have no idea how to weed or water or anything, so patches of it would die, parts would do inexplicably well, some bits would choke out other bits. There would be thorns and raspy stems and things that smell terrible, and weird vines that wrap around other plants and force them to twist and cower. Surely there would be one strange flower in the middle of that giant mess. One strange little flower, just sitting there, surviving.

ivyblossom:

bakerstreetbabes:

BEING A REPRINT FROM THE REMINISCENCES OF JOHN H. WATSON, M.D., LATE OF THE ARMY MEDICAL DEPARTMENT

I love that Watson makes this list and then realises how creepy it is and throws it into the fire. And yet, we still get to read it when he remembers it and writes it down for us.

I kind of want to see Sherlock Holmes’ impractical garden. It would be full of poisonous things, and he’d have no idea how to weed or water or anything, so patches of it would die, parts would do inexplicably well, some bits would choke out other bits. There would be thorns and raspy stems and things that smell terrible, and weird vines that wrap around other plants and force them to twist and cower. Surely there would be one strange flower in the middle of that giant mess. One strange little flower, just sitting there, surviving.