This is for the new Let’s Draw Sherlock challenge. Don’t know if Gil Elvgren counts as “fine art” but I just couldn’t resist. (Besides, as someone with a B.A. in Art History, I consider Elvgren worthy of being studied, so there!)
I picture Molly saying something along the lines of: “Jim — oh, Jimmy! I think I cut my finger while flaying that corpse for you.”
Molliarty like no tomorrow!
(Also, I was originally going to draw Mycroft in drag again but then I got a sudden urge to draw boobs… I regret nothing.)
Desk lamp: “Soup du jour, hot hors d’oeuvre,
Why, we only live to serve,
Try the grey stuff; It’s delicious!
Don’t believe me? Ask the dishes!
They can sing! They can dance!
After all, John, this is—-“
John: ”SHERLOCK!!! WHAT DID YOU PUT IN MY COFFEE??”
——-
A few hours later… (when the hallucinations have really taken hold):
John would make a terrifying Disney princess…
I imagine this is how Sherlock would die if Molly was Moran.
Yes, I’m on a Maroon 5 high.
Um… so this song came up on my playlist while I was working and I couldn’t help myself…
What can I say? John’s been preparing for this moment for three years.
Hey… remember this kid!Sherlock & kid!John animation thing from way back when?
Weeeell, I’m way too lazy to finish it so I’m going to write a fic instead. I guess this is a spoiler in a way… but I mean, you all knew it was going to end badly (what with the “UP” theme song and everything). I won’t explain too much. You’ll have to wait for the fic. But hey, at least you know it’s an angst-filled kidlock story……. and can avoid it if you still want to keep your heart intact.
And the tears come streaming down your face,
When you lose something you can’t replace,
When you love someone but it goes to waste,
—
Lol. This was supposed to be cleaner and more elaborate but I got really lazy. Sorry for the crap art!
From that day forth, Sherlock never saw opera the same way again.
—
Heh. I hope some of you are nerdy enough to know which opera I’m referring to here.
I’ve been listening to Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute) all day during work and I kept picturing Mycroft as the Queen of the Night…
I don’t know why I find Mycroft in drag so plausible (and amusing) but I do. Besides, nonsensical pictures are forgivable on April Fool’s Day.
Watson: Who said anything about husbands?
Sherlock: I did. Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a husband for. Now here he is, just out to lunch with an old friend.
I re-watched Study in Pink, and I could not un-think this in my head.
I realized halfway through that this really wasn’t all that funny…
But here’s the story anyhow: So, I was walking to the subway after work when I was accosted by an old British lady who somewhat resembled Mrs. Hudson and since (1) I’ve been in the habit of turning up my coat collar in windy weather, (2) I wore a blue scarf today, and (3) I passed by a red tour bus that greatly reminded me of London, all of these things compounded upon themselves in my grievously nerdy mind and I found myself imagining for a brief second—-
“To be gorgeous and high and true and fine and fluffy and moist and sticky and lovely, all you have to do is to believe that one is gorgeous and high and true and fine and fluffy and moist and sticky and lovely. And I believe it of myself, tremulously at first and then with mounting heat and passion because, stopping off for a second to be super again, I’m so often told it.” — Stephen Fry
—
Mycroft is lovely, “in a fluffy, moist kind of a way.”
My heart no longer aches.
My tears no longer sting.
My ears ring with a deafening silence,
and it echoes through my hollowed chest.
This is the only thing that is worse than feeling:
This is feeling nothing.
For anyone who has had a major heartbreak, you’d probably understand this kind of “numbness” after all the pain. It happens. The heart can only take so much before you just stop feeling all-together. I imagine John would lapse into such a numbness after so many years of mourning.
This is for Reapersun’s “Let’s Draw Sherlock” collab. Lol, wonder if this is an acceptable take on the prompt. Sorry, I can’t help drawing more Reichenbach stuff. What can I say? My creativity feeds off tragedy.
Sir A. C. Doyle, you clever clever man…
I just noticed something about Watson’s famous outburst in A Study in Scarlet (and consequently, about my tumblr url):
“What ineffable twaddle!” I cried, slapping the magazine down on the table, “I never read such rubbish in my life.”
If we turn this exclamation into an acronym, it becomes the word…
WIT
So Watson subconsciously admired Sherlock from the very beginning. Oh Doyle, you clever devil of a man!
—
On an unrelated note, I was surprised to find that my blog is result #2, after a definition of ‘twaddle’ when you search for “what ineffable twaddle” on google… I do not know if I should be proud or worried that I’ve bumped down all relevant information on A Study in Scarlet. Heh heh.
Sorry for the rubbish art! But yeah, felt like drawing a Sherlock angel after listening to Benedict voicing Angel Islington (damn that baritone).
