Posts by SHERLOCKHOLMES -

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  • animated movie week!

    [justify][fancypost bgcolor= ; bordercolor= ; borderwidth= 0px; width: 400px;][font=georgia]seriously guys
    do you seriously want me to do this
    because 4 u
    I will


    but I like hated him in the movie ugh
    buT ITS 4 UUU

  • I WANNA [ private ] LOVE YA'


    [justify][fancypost bgcolor= ; bordercolor= ; borderwidth= 0px; width: 400px; margin-top: -20px;][hr][hr][hr][font=georgia]Sherlock was always around. That was his new thing that he been trying to do - make sure he was there. This was mostly because he had promised Maisie he would never leave again, and disappearing again surely wouldn't help his best friend get any better. At the sound of Antonio's voice - which he had always thought of as familiar - he looked up from where he was laying. He was a lazy cat and he always had been. "Yes?" he asked, quirking his feline eyebrows as he looked the warrior over. He seemed a little... creeped out, maybe? He would admit, it was harder for him to tell with Antonio but he had a bunch something had disturbed him.



    #blizzardclansherlock
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  • animated movie week!

    [justify][fancypost bgcolor= ; bordercolor= ; borderwidth= 0px; width: 400px;][font=georgia]ah I hate spoilers. :c


    and i would say make her someone from httyd since there seems to be a theme but idk who
    maybe Violet from the Incredibles?

  • BURY ME ( open, big deal sorta ) BURY ME


    [justify][fancypost bgcolor= ; bordercolor= ; borderwidth= 0px; width: 400px; margin-top: -20px;][hr][hr][hr][font=georgia]/is brave enough to post/


    Sherlock would never say Mosaicstar was perfect. Hell no. No reason to lie about something like that. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. What kind of friend would be like that when she needed him? The answer - only Sherlock. He was known for being blunt, but the so-called 'truth' about Maisie didn't change the fact that he cared for her most dearly. At this point, she was probably the only creature in the world that he truly loved. He had never been good at having friends, or even trying to have friends, but somehow Maisie and him and managed to get along okay. More okay then everyone else.


    Maybe it was because they felt they could understand each other at times. Not on all levels, because right now Sherlock wasn't sure what to do or how to comfort her. But some things, like their anti-social tendencies, their habits of shutting people out. Maybe to keep them safe, maybe to keep themselves safe. Sherlock had never bothered to stop and to realize how alike they were. But there was, of course, one enormous, and oh so important difference.


    She could feel, and he couldn't.


    He wanted to be able to help her. He wanted the old Maisie back, and when he saw her the day he came home he had resolved to do what he could for her. But he couldn't even pretend to know what to do. Emotions were never, ever his strong point, and seeing the only cat he truly cared about spiral away into the worst of them made him feel lost. Helpless. He couldn't even begin to relate to her, let alone fix her.


    Before she had been amazing. Not perfect, mind you. But someone special, who went out of her way to do a little good in the world. Someone who watched out for her Clanmates. Yeah, she had her problems, but who didn't?


    The feline had arrived next to Crowtalon, having heard her voice from a slight distance and instantly making his way over. He had never gotten along with the Head Paladin. Never. But for Maisie, maybe they could work it out. A truce. She deserved that much, yeah? Blue gaze watching her with something that was perhaps sadness - caused by their bond, maybe? - he tried to think of something to say. Not his strong point, but maybe he could leave the talking to Crow and just be their for some support.


    #blizzardclansherlock
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  • one smarmy lil shit, coming right up / open


    [justify][fancypost bgcolor= ; bordercolor= ; borderwidth= 0px; width: 400px; margin-top: -20px;][hr][hr][hr][font=georgia]Ugh. Sherlock hated 'dumb' people. This particular dumb person must not have noticed the scent lines or something. Sigh. "Name and business on Blizzardclan territory?" he asked, watching the feline with blue eyes. He was not in a gaming mood, but then again he never was.



    #blizzardclansherlock
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  • cross methods of love + open, meet and greet


    [justify][fancypost bgcolor= ; bordercolor= ; borderwidth= 0px; width: 400px; margin-top: -20px;][hr][hr][hr][font=georgia]"The name's Sherlockholmes," Sherlock meowed blandly as he heard the whole meet and greet announcement. These were boring, but it probably couldn't hurt to learn a few names.



    #blizzardclansherlock
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  • SCREW THIS - open, injuries


    [justify][fancypost bgcolor= ; bordercolor= ; borderwidth= 0px; width: 400px; margin-top: -20px;][hr][hr][hr][font=georgia]ooc - so we're going out of town today for three days so very limited access, so this is a little inactivity excuse as well as hopefully a chance to boost my muse some until my other plot gets under way.


    Sherlock still wasn't quite sure how it had happened.


    There he was, minding his own business and climbing a tree. He had seen some tree sap a ways off the ground, and what was more fun then mixing random substances together to try and make it fiz and bubble, especially when one was bored? It was definitely a better idea then, for example, smoking. So he had climbed up and was simply trying to put the stuff in a little glass had when it had happened.


    He was ambushed by a flying barrage of fluffy brown fur, tiny teeth and minuscule deadly claws. Right in the face. Him and the unidentified creature tumbled backwards out of the tree, crashing to the ground with a sickening thud. Instantly Sherlock tried to asses the damage, but the pain in his leg made him want to black out. "Broken... leg," he muttered to himself, trying to think of what to do next. His attacker had scuttled away, and his scowl of pain deepened slightly - damn squirrel. He would make sure Maisie knew this was her fault somehow someday.


    He supposed he ought to call for help now, but his voice didn't seem to be working. All that he could produce was a softer speaking tone. So he had been winded too - he just hoped nothing else had been hurt inside.


    So there he lay, face screwed up with pain and cursing squirrels for life.



    #blizzardclansherlock
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  • school's starting, going to be inactive

    [justify][fancypost bgcolor= ; bordercolor= ; borderwidth= 0px; width: 400px;][font=georgia]Alright guys, so I just got back from a short vacation, so that was those couple days of inactivity, but school is starting tomorrow. Yeah, I'm homeschooled, which is great, but I've still got work to do. Not to mention my little sister is going to school for the first time, and I'd like to try and spend more time with her when she's home.
    So, yeah, inactive.


    Thanks for understanding c;

  • DON'T MOVE DON'T [open, joiner] SPEAK DON'T BREATHE

    SHERLOCK[color=white] .

    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 260px; height: 155px; overflow: auto;][justify][color=white][font=georgia]Sherlock had no idea where he was.


    Amnesia, was his first thought. He didn't know why, or how, but this felt like deja-vu; waking up somewhere unfamiliar, with nothing to get by on. He somehow sensed this had happened to him before. However, unlike the last time, he had snippets of life before.


    His name, for example. Sherlock. Funny name, he supposed. He remembered being somewhere cold, and white, and another cat, a small silver tabby. What had her name been? She had been important, she had mattered to him a lot, and before he even opened his eyes, he felt irritation at not knowing her name anymore.


    Finally, the tom opened his eyes.


    He was lying in a clearing somewhere, and his head hurt like hell. He wasn't surprised at all, seeing as he had already deduced what was wrong with him. He had apparently taken a bad impact to the head and lost most of his memories. Except, apparently, the ones that made him smart. He supposed that was all he really needed anyway. People, he thought, didn't matter so much to him. That he knew, and that he always would.


    Rolling onto his stomach, the tall tuxedo slowly brought himself into a standing position, grimacing at the shocking pain inside his skull. That would go away eventually, he assumed, before taking in his surroundings. Trees. Some distant memory told him he liked trees. Well, new him wouldn't. What kind of idiot liked trees?


    Already, a somehow familiar look of superiority and command was drawing itself across his face, his feline eyebrows looking skeptical. How did he even get into this bloody, stupid clearing? Well, whoever had brought him here seemed to have gone, and if they were coming back for him, he wouldn't be here. Ha.


    Turning on the spot, Sherlock marched out of the clearing, taking only a few graceful steps before stopping to let the throbbing in his head subside. After that, he walked slower, but with no less dignification. He was done with this. He was going to go somewhere. Another aching memory pried at the back of his head - despite the antisocial, jerkwad qualities he would soon show, he needed to belong somewhere. It was in his blood.


    After walking for a ways, the skinny feline sat his furry butt down, holding up his head and looking about expectantly. His brain told him that he had reached a 'scent marker'. Clans used those to designate the end of their territory. He must have been in a Clan once, whatever the hell those were. Now, he told himself, he would wait for someone to show up. People always did.



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  • DON'T MOVE DON'T [open, joiner] SPEAK DON'T BREATHE

    SHERLOCK[color=white] .

    [fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 260px; height: 155px; overflow: auto;][justify][color=white][font=georgia]Weapons didn't bother Sherlock so much, and even if they did, he wouldn't show it. Others were only allowed to know him as someone who was unafraid, confident in himself and whatever he did. He didn't know how he knew this stuff, but by now he was beginning to chock it up to his own instinct and personality, things the amnesia hadn't taken from him.


    "Yes, I'm Sherlock," he started, hearing his own voice for the first time in what must have been ages. Deep and British. Not bad. "Sherlock Holmes, here to join." He didn't know where the 'holmes' bit came from, but it just seemed right to tack on the end there, like maybe it was his last name or something like that. And he didn't know where he was, but he needed a place to stay, and he could probably figure it out just by listening. After all, no one would be able to actually tell he knew as little as he did.


    //yinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn <33



    [/fancypost]