try not to bleed on my couch

Didn’t go to any trouble, did you?

#lestrade’s least irritating officer is Lestrade

LESTRADE’S LEAST IRRITATING OFFICER IS LESTRADE.

LESTRADE’S LEAST IRRITATING OFFICER IS LESTRADE.

"I’ve fallen for you more times than that American has fallen out of your window."

"Didn’t go to any trouble, did you?" {the sign of three}

have you ever shipped something so much you just want to hit yourself in the face with a brick

The scene removed from A Study In Pink that I FUCKING WISH WAS STILL IN IT OMG

MOFFAT HOW COULD YOU WRITE THIS AND NOT INCLUDE IT OH GOD

Backup! I need maximum backup! Bakerstreet, now.

It’s the “Please” that seals it…

Well now we have canon proof of something we all really knew all along: that if you lay one pinky finger on sherlock holmes, lestrade will move heaven and earth to fuck your shit up bad

30 day sherlock challenge | day 13 || favorite scene in a scandal in belgravia

Look at these two images. Just look at them.

Really look.

Especially the very last one.

It’s important.

Don’t think about what happened next. Don’t think about what you know happened right after this moment.

Just take that last image in.

Now. Memorize it. Etch it forever into your mind.

This is a learning moment.

Those are the most important moments.

As important as Mike walking into the lab followed by a weathered soldier.

Look at that hand. Reaching for you. That strong hand with its large square fingers, reaching for you.

Remember this; in the future you’ll use it as a shocking anecdote. Shocking because everyone knows you can’t feel. Despite that being untrue. Now. That weathered soldier stormed your palace. Tore down your walls and, yeah, maybe John is your soul mate and maybe you do love each other, but John taught you other things, too. Not just how to love. He taught you that first love isn’t necessarily last love or only love. You learned a heart, whole and better can love more. You learned that the person who kicks your cell door in isn’t more important than the man sat outside your self-imposed cage slipping little pieces of hope, humanity, respect through your cracks for years. Waiting, sometimes impatiently, but waiting none the less. Waiting for you to learn to understand what those bright pieces of light were. Waiting for you to learn how to wear them, to decorate yourself with them and use their light to find your worth. To use their weight and substance to make your facade of bravado and conceit a true armor of self-worth.

If John is a bright and shining hero, then Lestrade is the hidden, steady beating of your heart. Taken for granted until it trips, until you’re terrified and feel it thumping fiercely within you, feeding your body adrenaline and oxygen so you can fight or flight, because no matter what you choose, no matter what, he’s there for you. Sick and sweating, arrogant and giddy, high on yourself, shaking and angry, frustrated, hateful, over dosed, brilliant, sharp tongued… all of it. All of you. Every wonderful and awful thing you’ve shoved at him. He’s taken. So, John can march back out that door to slay another dragon and save another life, but Lestrade will be the one to force you under a shock blanket, to barter with you to stop poisoning your body, to understand that being a great man doesn’t come naturally to you and appreciate that you’ve had to earn it. He watched you earn it. Watched another man teach you.

He was married, to be fair…

You didn’t have the ability to understand, you could argue…

You’re an idiot, is the truth. When John brought down that wall you were too blinded by his newness and his hero worship and so you missed Lestrade when he’d stumbled at the unexpected give. He’d spent years pushing, weakening those walls and he would have gone on pushing. Steadily.

First love, if it finds you before true love, should leave you better.

Thank you for that gift, John. For showing me the how of love. So that I could understand it when it found me. Recognize it when it’s right in front of me.

Beckoning.

Literally reaching for me. With strong, steady hands. Large, warm familiar hands.

So, remember that image. Etch it in stone and bring it to the deepest part of yourself, to that empty cell.

Hang this image on the broken door so that whenever you feel like hiding away again you see him. Everytime.

Reaching for you.

Pulling you out of yourself.

True love, when it finds you, should be thorough.

Followers, if anyone doubts the validity of your right to ‘ship Sherstrade, send them to this OP.