i lived through dozens of lonely christmases just to find you




An Attempt to Eff the Ineffable - Transcript of “Knock, knock. Who’s There? Benedict Cumberbatch.” from BBC comedy sketch show “Lewis Macleod is Not Himself ” S1E01  (x)

It does a great job with imitating Benedict’s and Martin’s voice and delivery - and its observations are hilariously absurd yet not untrue at the same time. 

“Benedict”: Morning, Tim! Tim Bowler, Timbory-Tim, Timbory, Tim, Timbory Tim, Timboree! What are you doing?

“Martin”: Oh, er, you know, I’m just, you know, er … gazing despairingly at the camera like a perplexed hamster, as is my duty as the put-upon everyman character.

“Benedict”: Well, well, you know, just to whisper in your shell-like [?] *laughs raucously* - the new guy starts today. I said you could show him the ropes.

“Martin”: Fine, er … when’s he coming?

“Benedict”: [Sherlock voice] I’ve been observing you from the reception area for the last half an hour. That is to say, I’m already here. Don’t feel bad for not noticing me sooner. When I stand very still and don’t speak, I can easily be mistaken for an incredibly ornate and attractive hat stand. The kind you find in an antique shop that doesn’t have any price tags. Don’t touch - you can’t afford. Hello.

“Martin”: Good … er … yeah, good gracious. Erm, what are you?

“Benedict”: My name is long and ridiculous, like my face. They call me Benedict Cumberbatch.

*fairy tale harp chords* [medieval choral chant] Ben-ne-dict Cum-ber-baaatch!

“Benedict”: Don’t worry, that always happens.

“Martin”: Uh, OK, right, yeah. Um, OK, well, so, let’s give you the tour. Well, we’ve got, you know, the photocopier here …

“Benedict”: Pish, posh, and Duchy biscuits. You don’t think I actually care about your tedious office, do you?

“Martin”: Well, no, but I sort of imagined you’re here because -

“Benedict”: Oh, you beautifully obtuse little turnip of a man. I’m here because after Sherlock and the Hobbit, I’m now contractually obliged to appear in everything you ever do, shall do, have done, have so much as considered doing – don’t you understand, we go together like bangers and mash, like cream tea and scones, like a put-upon everyman character actor and a big posh flamboyant manic pixie dream boy with cheekbones you could balance a BAFTA on.

Is it a man? Is it several hyper-intelligent cats sitting on one another’s shoulders wearing a latex man-suit? Or is it an incredibly sexy horse that’s learned to walk on its hind legs and talk very very very fast?

“Martin”: Um … sorry, could you repeat all that please?

“Benedict”: No time, get down with me beneath the stairs.

“Martin”: Why? Is there someone going to try to kill us or something? Or …

“Benedict”: [dramatic low voice] No, we just need to get uncomfortably close to one other and gaze homoerotically into each other’s eyes. Can you feel the tension? Can you? Can you … do you want to give me a little kiss? Oh you mustn’t - I’m an alabaster Adonis, don’t touch me!

“Martin”:  Um, yeah, OK.  Erm, bit weird, er … but still, less annoying than that Gervais guy. Erm, look, erm … how much longer is this going to go on for?

“Benedict”: For the rest of your life.

“Martin”:  What?

“Benedict”: Now, if you don’t mind, I have to exit dramatically through a window or something, for no reason other than it looks fantastic. Goodbye for now, put-upon everyman character actor. Remember my name.

“Martin”: *sighs* Ahhhh - I’ll never forget you, Bumblebee Cuttlefish! 






I’m reblogging again because of reasons.


same cute mouth thing





The Great Game (Jim’s POV)

Actual events on that pool encounter.


Dammit wrong door.




He could hear the humming even from afar and it grew louder the nearer he got to the little copse of trees at the end of the lawn. And there he found Sherlock, sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of a row of beehives, his back to the house. John kept a respectful distance and watched in fascination as bees swarmed around Sherlock, occasionally landing on his hair or shoulders, crawling around in circles and taking off again. He didn’t seem to notice while working away on a tablet computer.

'Don't you ever get stung?' John asked.

Sherlock froze. For a few moments he sat totally motionless, then made a gentle shooing motion which rendered him bee-free within seconds and slowly turned around. He looked up at John. ‘And why would they sting me?’ he said. ‘I don’t harm them.’

So, that was what a holidaying Sherlock looked like. His hair was tousled and its rich, dark colour shimmered auburn in the sunlight. His cheekbones and the ridge of his nose showed a bit of sunburn. The black eye had faded to blotchy shades of green and yellow still marring his face. He wore a collarless, wide-cut shirt that looked old, as if it had been washed and dried in the sun so often that the material was broken down to feathery softness.

Commission for ‘Destination Unknown’ by cloudmelon - thank you so much!


Doctor Who - Probably the only REAL reason he needs companions.


Imagine how that first night in bed together is going to go. John’s yawning and exhausted and there’s case files everywhere and Sherlock would normally stay up and work, but this is their FIRST night in the same bed, and so Sherlock leaves the work and follows John into bed and…


Cleaner version of the Jason Bell photo. [x]

posted 3 days ago with 3,875 notes
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#benedict cumberbatch