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.)
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.
“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).
In another world, this is how we met.
“Is this yours?”
“Yes, it’s for an experiment.”
“An ex—”
“A social experiment.”
“…”
“The name’s Sherlock Holmes. Address: 221b Baker Street. Come tonight at 7, not a minute late. Ta!”
“A cup of tea, Jawwwn? A nice, hot cup of tea with a lot of sssssssssugar?”
(I’m sure I’m not the only one going a bit crazy over the wait for season 3…)
Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?
I could really use a wish right now, a wish right now, a wish right now.
- “Airplanes” by B.o.B.
- - -
Sorry, this is a really half-assed WIP. I got lazy and need to go out for a bit so I’ll finish this later.
So here’s the deal with this pic:
In this Wholock AU, John decides to build his own replica of the Tardis and sits in it every night, wishing the Doctor would come to help him find and save Sherlock from the Fall.
When it’s all done, this picture is going to go in the Tardis on my blog so it’ll make more sense later (see current theme).
Also, Sherlock will look more like a ghost in the finished picture.
They say that smell is the strongest sense,
When it comes to memories…
But it hurts too much to remember.
- - - -
Here, have some Sherlock angst :> Been too long.
EDIT: Whoops! Sorry for the repost. I wanted the picture to show in full size so I had to separate it into two images. Stupid tumblr.
Here. Have some Avengerlock!
—-
Ok so it’s been a looooooong while! I’m so sorry, guys, and thank you to all who are still following me (lol). So, here’s what I’ve been doing: job hunting, job hunting, eating, sleeping, and more …job hunting. (sigh)
But yus, I’m back! I won’t be posting as much as before but I’ll try to post at least once a month.
aaaaand… stay tuned for more Avengerlock! :> Is that still a thing? Was it ever a thing? Haha, well, whatever. I’m out of ideas and too brain dead from job hunting to care. First time in a long time that I’m idea-blocked.
(btw if anyone has requests or suggestions, feel free to drop me a note and maybe I’ll get inspired or something)
“John,” said Sherlock earnestly, “if I — if I’m not quite —” he stopped and tried again — “John, whatever happens, you will understand, won’t you?”
At the time, John had not realized the full import of those words.
Sherlock did not live to be 100.
But John would be haunted by the memories even when he was 99.
- - -
AU: Where Sherlock and John meet as kids and become the best of friends, and Sherlock does not fake his Reichenbach death but actually sacrifices his life for John’s. Also, in this version, Sherlock’s a year older than John vs. Doyle’s version where John is 2 years older than Sherlock if I remember correctly (And for those of you who couldn’t tell, the quotes are from Winnie-the-Pooh, A. A. Milne’s original book version)
I’ll wear your colors my dear
Until you’re standing right here
Next to the one who adores you
Whose heart is beating for you
Like a lighthouse guides
A shipwrecked sailor safely from the sea
I’ll wear your colors til you come back home to me
- - -
Train of thought: England goes to war again and John is called to serve. Sherlock, never knowing how to show his emotions, hides any signs of sadness over John’s imminent departure. He denies all feelings of loneliness, longing, etc. until John leaves. Then, in the privacy of his now empty rooms, Sherlock begins to mope. He eventually develops an attachment to everything that John used to wear and even starts to wear John’s jumpers because it brings him a curious sense of comfort. When John returns, he is greeted with a Sherlock dressed in one of his old sweaters, looking quite awkward because John’s clothes are much too loose for Sherlock’s lanky body. But John says nothing because he understands. Sherlock has missed him.
(…just a silly doodle for a silly thought)
The Sherbit: Unexpectedly spirited ‘holme’
“Your name—I remember it now. Your name is Sherlock Holmes.”
In which, Sherlock gets turned into Smaug and needs Hobbit!Watson to remember his real name to free both of them from the spell.
(My train of thought went something along the lines of: Smaug = dragon & dragon = Haku, Smaug = Cumberbatch & Cumberbatch = Sherlock, therefore Sherlock = Haku… yeeah I don’t think there’s anything I can’t crossover with Sherlock)
- - -
And here’s little Mycroft floating down after them. He had a little too much cake.
Disclaimer: I totally traced the faces from Miyazaki’s Spirited Away (like you couldn’t tell…) but the hair and clothing alterations are my own.
