I wonder how many people would reblog this thinking it’s some deep artistic statement when really it’s just Moriarty being a creep.
I wanna know how long Moriarty spent taping this
like OH FUCK I MISPRONOUNCED SOMETHING GOTTA DO IT OVER CAUSE IT HAS TO BE FLAWLESS FOR SHERLY-POO
GOTTA GIVE HIM A GOOD WARNING
can we cuddle?
in just our underwear, so our skin can touch. can i hold you while you wrap yourself around me? i’ll play with your hair and drag my fingertips across your skin. you’ll peck at my neck while i’ll laugh and tell you to stop. we could whisper cute things to each other over pillows that no one else could hear. then i’d pull out my hunting knife and sacrifice you to the mighty dark lord Satan, while chanting sacrificial hymns.
The Empty Hearse
Sherlock can’t resist sneaking by Jim’s funeral after the fall and his suspicions are much confirmed; something is wrong. It’s too dull, too boring - not grand enough for the death of the one and only Moriarty. And yes, Sherlock’s right again. The consulting criminal is alive.