The end is where we start from.

inspired by a collection made by @always-alright
these are my characters, sorry i'm rubbish with descriptions

these are some of the most
b e a u t i f u l
sets i have ever seen and i will probably never be able to make anything as stunning.

So, in four weeks from now school will be over for me. I will then have around a week of 'study leave' and then about a month of exams and when all that rubbish is over, i'm free!
 
And not just slightly free, but I have two whole months of summer to enjoy. No exams, no pressures, but unfortunately the knowledge that I will not be seeing some of my closest friends for a long while. Therefore, i've decided to make this summer...wait for it...
 
~THE BEST SUMMER OF MY LIFE~
 
and that it will be. So here is a list of the things I want to do. At the end of summer I shall come back to it and if there is a {♥} next to it, it means that it is completed.
 
So, there you go.

{@paintedonsmile @riverkentvalley
@tophat-95 (Lestrade) it's your go next :3}
 
John entered the silence of Baker Street and could feel it in the air instantly; the tension fizzled in the air and he couldn't help but grin. Sherlock had a case. He hurried up the stairs to their living room and was instantly hit by his flatmates request. With an exaggerated roll of the eyes, which Sherlock couldn't see but probably deduced (knowing him), he determinedly sauntered up to the table and looked down at it with a scrutinizing gaze.
 
"Well, er..." He began, not really knowing what to say. He looked over to see Sherlock's annoyed expression and furrowed his eyebrows, concentrating harder. "So these people went missing? Well, there are two of these Doctor people, so perhaps they are both from the same family or group or people? But then again, they look nothing alike. Their outfits are very striking though, they sort of seem to fit their expressions well. And...and..." He rambled slightly and looked up at Sherlock to see a disappointed frown on his face. John flushed slightly, angry with himself for being unable to deduce anything. "Oh Sherlock, you know me. I don't have a clue what any of this is."
 
John picked up the anonymous note and narrowed his eyes at it. "This note, the person, they are easily female." He noticed Sherlock's smirk. "But of course, you've already figured this out. Are you doing this just to mock me?" He slammed the note down on the table with the palm of his hand and bustled over to the kitchen where he began to make two cups of tea, two sugars for Sherlock and one for his. Whilst brewing the tea, he purposefully sighed as deeply as he could. He noticed Sherlock watching him and he cocked his head
.
"What?" John snapped, glaring at him. Sherlock said nothing but his eyes darted over to the information on the table and then back to John.
 
"You still want me to deduce what this case is all about? I can only tell you what we already know! The people have gone missing, it's got something to do with the blue box, perhaps that's how they were taken. Some sort of vessel to move them about in." He huffed, stirring the tea and pressing one of the two mugs into Sherlock's hand."Other than that I have no ideas." He looked up at Sherlock with searching eyes and raised an eyebrow "So? What's this all about then?"

Using the collection @kenz-a-lenz made as a layout.
These are probably so inaccurate but ha, who cares?

~~John Hamish Watson~~
 
Age: 38
Occupation: Part-time surgery worker, blogger, assistant to the world's only consulting detective.
Bit of Background: Born in Dorset. He lived with his sister, Harriet, and his parents Mary and George there until he was old enough to go to University. He went to the University of London where he studied for his medical degree and went on to train at Netley as a surgeon in the British Army. Not long afterwards, he was posted in Afghanistan and returned after the injury of a bullet wound in the shoulder.
 
Hello, i'm John. John Watson. It's funny, you're probably looking at me now and thinking what a dull, ordinary life I must lead. Okay, perhaps there are days, Sundays in particular, where all I do is watch the telly and drink large mugs of tea; but my life is so much more than that. It's all thanks to my flatmate, Sherlock Holmes. He's the most brilliant, magnificent man i've ever met. And if you dare tell him that...
 
I was an army doctor in Afghanistan up until a few years ago. I saw the deaths of dozens of men, including my best friend. You would think I would never want to see the danger again, the horrors of the battlefield, but I love it. The adrenaline of being under the firing line of a sniper, the milisecond in which you have to make the decision to shoot an insane cabbie. I walk with Sherlock Holmes, I see the battlefield of everyday life. I am part of the danger and I love it. Every last bit of it.
 
~Short Story~
 
I awake and groan as I can already feel the beginnings of a headache throb behind my eyes. Sherlock and that bleeding violin! I roll onto my side to greet the alarm clock's blaring red numbers 4:00 staring back at me. I groan once more, stumbling out of bed and pulling on my shoes. I once made the mistake of leaving the room without them; let's just say that I still don't think I have those shards of test tube glass out of my feet.
 
As I enter the living room I stare at my flatmate with a glare that he describes as the 'John's Army Stare'. Apparently I could use it to frighten away annoying children who ring on our door to ask us if we can solve the case of where their missing teddy has gone. Of course, i'd never be that mean. Sherlock on the other hand...
 
"Sherlock!" I snap and he looks up from the arm chair he is sitting in with a bored look on his face. He replies with a simple "What?" and I almost run over and slap him. Almost.
 
"You know bleeding well what! Violin at four in the morning? I've told you about this." I fume, hands on my hips, trying and failing not to look sassy. He just shrugs his shoulders but I can tell from the look on his face that something is wrong. I soften my gaze and move to sit in the chair opposite him.
 
"What is it? You can tell me?" I ask softly, gently coaxing the words out of his mouth. Mycroft tells me i'm the only one able to do it. It makes me sort of proud, in a way.
 
He shivers and I remember what he told me a few nights ago. The nightmares. Sherlock could have terrible nightmares sometimes. Especially recently with Moriarty coming back into his mind. I sigh and get up, sitting beside him on in the arm of his chair and pulling his head into my chest. He breathes against it softly and we sit like that for the rest of the night, until the both of us fall into a deep sleep.
~~~
 
I don't know if any of this is okay, tell me if it needs editing. I just really want John c:

the cave - mumford and sons
 
just a quick message to apologise for not being online often and for the lack of sets and roleplaying. also,
follow me on twitter
https://twitter.com/#!/rossybowties
https://twitter.com/#!/rossybowties
https://twitter.com/#!/rossybowties

this set is based on van gogh's starry night, which is included in the set. i love this painting very very much and the colours clash so beautifully that it was a pleasure to make a set based on them.

purlease?

Okay, to make this simple we're all going to be roleplaying on one set. If you don't understand/are not used to this concept, you may PM me and I shall explain. There is no setting for this point, so your characters can be wherever you want them to be. i can't explain this very well, the best thing to do is experience it!
 
I'll tag everyone, then we can get started:
@lessthanthree
@simply-scarlett
@mischieffoal
@staceyisahurricane
@crazement
@mrshannahwilliams
@caity-is-a-timelady
@alljuststoriesintheend
@vanessamalfoy
@irtis
@lumosnight120