quixotic chaotic

Poor Namara-Ashina asked me for this AGES ago and I really am so sorry for taking so long. But it was an absolutely pleasure to do and I really hope you like it you lovely, lovely person. 

I should have just done it like this from the start…

listen, as a very smart yet quintessential gryffindor, let me tell you: gryffindors are ASSHOLES about being brave. the way that we are assholes is that brash, swaggery, imma be the first one off the high dive and then get in your face about it afterwards kind of way. sherlock is brave, yes. and he is an asshole, yes. but he’s not an asshole about being brave; in fact, he’s pretty lowkey about it, to the point that he probably doesn’t even think he is at all. he’s an asshole about how unbelievably much he knows about fucking everything. 

#house sorting via brand of assholery

everybody and their mother has their own sorting headcanon, and that’s pretty awesome — these are just what I like to imagine! I’d also like to see Sherlock written as a Muggleborn sometime, too. (also on deviantart)

It’s a bit predictable to have a crush on a jock, isn’t it?

First year Sherlock having a huge tiny crush on the slightly older captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

In which Sherlock is a metamorphogus and takes blushing to a whole new level.

OH MY GOD

Hee!

Yup, I laughed.

Potterlock sketch

when the students get sorted sherlock calls out the house before the sorting hat

everyone hates it

except john

i am losing my mind

when john’s turn to be sorted comes he looks at sherlock instead of the hat 

with a big expectant smile

please forgive this fic intrusion, I came across this post and then blacked out and when I woke up this was in my word docs????

He sees Mycroft frowning sternly at him from the Slytherin table every time he does it, and he makes a horrible face right back, crossing his eyes and flaring his nostrils and sticking his tongue out, because he knows Mycroft is doing the exact same thing he is, only keeping it in his head; Mycroft has been trying to convince Sherlock to keep his deductions in his head too, but what’s the point of knowing things if people don’t know that you know? If no one knows about everything firing around in Sherlock’s head then they’ll think he’s just as bland and vague as they are, and he’s not, he never has been and he never will be. He cannot abide being thought of as ordinary. "Hufflepuff," Sherlock calls out. "Hufflepuff. Slytherin. Ravenclaw." He doesn’t shout all of them, so he doesn’t know why everyone’s getting so fussy, murmuring low and shooting him irritated glances every time a name is called. Not all of them are obvious, and he’s not going to make himself look stupid by just guessing, so he only predicts on the ones he’s absolutely certain of. It’s just that most of them are obvious. When “Holmes, Sherlock” is called and he stands, he can hear the change in tone the murmurs take on, gazes flicking towards the Slytherin table. He refuses to look over at his brother because he already knows what he’s doing, that grating, self-deprecating “what can you do about siblings?” shrug-and-smile double act he has perfected ever since he decided to feign ordinariness with regular people and Sherlock had rejected the very concept. Instead Sherlock marches right up to the Hat and looks Professor McGonagall straight in the eye, declaring loudly, “Ravenclaw.”

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baby sherlock sneaking into the gryffindor dorms and falling asleep on john because passwords are easy but he’s terrible with riddles so he can’t get into the ravenclaw tower and no one else will let him in

(◡‿◡✿)

Sherlock is twelve. His front teeth are too big for his mouth, and he lisps when he stage-whispers, “John, move over, it’s freezing. I’m so cold I could burst.”

John mutters a few things he learned from Greg during Quidditch practice, then says, “That doesn’t even make sense,” but he rolls over anyway, freeing space for Sherlock to fill with his reedy little body. It’s all elbows and knees for a moment, Sherlock trying to wind his icy arms around John’s chest for warmth while John tries to wriggle out of his grip, but eventually they settle into a familiar little pretzel of twisted limbs, on their sides facing one another, Sherlock’s soft curls tickling John’s nose.

"Stuck on the riddle?" John says quietly, kicking at the covers until he can fold the ends under his and Sherlock’s feet and form a little warm pocket. It’s a pointless question — the blue tips of Sherlock’s fingers when John brings them up to blow on them mean that he must have been outside of the Common Room for a long time arguing with the eagle statue. He’s brilliant, easily the smartest student in the school, let alone in Ravenclaw, but his intelligence favours the concrete and the rational, absolute facts and provable theories — he hates abstract concepts and insubstantial nonsense, and the pointless riddles the statue gives have a history of driving Sherlock up the wall with his inability to answer them.

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Potterlock! I wanted to draw it for ages and now I finally have yay *0*

My potterlock headcanons include a story not so different from the marauders, John is turned into a werewolf and Sherlock becomes an Animagus (foxlock hell yeah) to be with him during the full moons. Reason why John’s Patronus is a fox (I wanted to draw it but got lazy heh)

sawneesnowstar answered: potterlock please? :D

Sherlock got a letter from John during summer holidays sorry for my english

casually floods potterlock tag with fluff and smooches

~Best Potterlock~

Potterlock .w.

is john's patronus his inner hedgehog or is it a beautiful baby giraffe to represent his love for sherlock

Sherlock would sort himself.

Potterlock AU: John was wounded as an Auror, not in Afghanistan. He gets away with a bit of magic in the flat, because Sherlock doesn’t pay much attention to domestic things.

PLEASE SOMEONE WRITE THIS

Literally gagging for it.

This fic’s (almost) already been written.  It’s not exactly the same (John was not an Auror in it) but this is pretty darn close to the brilliant "More Things than are Dreamt Of" series by 1electricpirate, in which John was a magical prodigy but gave it all up to live (and fight in the war) as a Muggle, and what happens when Sherlock discovers this.  Brilliant worldbuilding.

HEIDI YOUR FIC  HAS BEEN PROMO’D BY MADLORI