#watson
I'll leave you words
underneath your door
underneath the singing moon
near the place where your feet may pass by
hidden in the holes of wintertime
and when you're alone for a moment
kiss me
whenever you want
Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 11:28 PM UTC
You were once the greatest thing that ever happened to me
and now you are just thrown in the back of my mind.
Now you're just scattered memories.
I was always afraid of changing.
I was never made to do this because
my life revolved around you.
But life does keep going.
As you decide to jump off this runaway train,
leaving me in the dust left to rust.
Leaving these grounds to become a beautiful flaming light in the darkness.
Every night I would look into the sky and talk to you,
telling you that life does keep going on
but it's making me sick, love.
But in the morning I will awake and rise from the ground
not knowing how to walk properly again.
But I'll find enough strength to walk to your resting place
and find peace in it and slow down in this race.
But I gave you all I had
and now I have nothing left to hold
I took all my love and spread it across your wild footprints
and grave, like ashes, to let it sink down into you once again.
We all get older.
We all lose things.
Life doesn't stop
and I have never
felt more alone,
but time continues
and the days go on.
But not a day goes by that I forget you
because I never dreamed of meeting someone like you,
but now you're just a memory
in the back of my mind.
Oh, the tragedy I have seen,
leaving my eyes burnt out.
"Please don't be dead."
I repeat countless times to your stone,
to the sky, to the heavenly stars that shine so bright
leaving the darkness in the pity shadows.
"Do this for me please."
"Just one more miracle."
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 8:40 PM UTC
Remember the time,
When you stood right behind me,
Watching me enjoy the limelight.
The time when I acted stupid,
But you brought the right words to my sight.
The time when I refused to work,
But you kept pushing me to do so.
The time when I had given up on myself,
But with those harsh and emotionless lines you made me believe in who I was.
The time when everyone left,
But you stayed.
The time when I kept arguing over wrong statements,
And when you knew how to counter me with the right one.
All this time long,
You stayed and believed.
Maybe we never realised,
Maybe we never knew.
But this world had these two kinds,
Sherlock and Watson.
Each one searching for the other,
Sherlock's searching for Watson,
Watson's searching for Sherlock,
Maybe they are fine alone,
But maybe they are best when together.
Maybe a Sherlock would have never enjoyed the limelight,
Maybe he would have given up on himself way earlier,
Maybe he would have not been he.
But then Watson made it all happen.
Maybe that is how it works.
***Maybe one day we'll find our Sherlock,
Or maybe one day a Watson would find us.***
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 5:15 AM UTC
not many days had passed
since you first left
we were too far apart all the time
told myself it was
better this way
because my biggest fears
always traced
your bad lines
walking down the street
i see you across the way
and i try to
try and not to make eye contact
but i cant
resist the memories
locked in your face
so i stare
and for a moment
we get lost in each other
separated by a street
and so much more
you smile
and all the differences
seem to disappear
and i want to run
and be caught by you again
i want to come home
because you were the most
beautiful place i'd ever
made my home
but the cars flash by and
suddenly
you're not standing there
all i see is a trace
of your silhouette
against the cold october air
somehow we
recapped
the past 9 months
in a single moment
and you didn't care enough
to stay
so again
you just walked away
and i was left
standing
surprised
for the millionth time
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 12:52 PM UTC
all the time that transcends
when we're together
should be bottled
into a capsule
that i can bury when
our love dies
then when i miss your
tender touch
and magnetic eyes
i will dig up the grave
and open the memories
from former days
and keep going
knowing
we were never meant to be
but i loved you
more than anyone else
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 12:49 PM UTC
Too thrilled by the case,
Sherlock just disappears,
To begin with a chase,
John is let alone,
To get a cab, and go to Baker St. .
But wait- wherever he goes,
The telephone booth starts ringing!
He waits for somebody to pick up,
And continues to walk;
The third booth starts ringing,
The caller must be desperate to talk.
A black, shiny car,
Pulls over for John to ride,
The destination seemed far,
In this conversation-less hour.
"Anthea", answered the accompanying secretary,
When asked her name,
Fake it was,
Absolutely.
The anxiety was over,
John was confronted by a well-dressed man,
Who offered him money, to spy,
The guy, who deduced Watson's army background,
By his tan.
The "arch-enemy" of Sherlock,
As he introduced himself,
Told John about his psychosomatic disorder,
"You are back in the game,
You don't fear danger,
You've missed this lifestyle."
True it was,
Pretty much,
"Could be dangerous", wrote Sherlock,
And there he was dashing into 221B.
Sherlock was quite disappointed,
When he got to know about the declination,
Of that tempting offer,
"Pity, we could've split the fee",
He suggested John for the next time.
Isn't Mr. Holmes quite irksome,
Calling John from the other end of London,
Just to send a text?
No, this was not an ordinary text,
An SMS was just sent,
By Mr. Watson's phone,
To the murderer.
The murderer?
But why?!
Elementary for SH.
Found the case within an hour,
Which was now in front him.
His mind, is truly above par!
One thing missing from the suitcase:
Her organizer, her phone.
"Nah, she's is a clever woman,
A serial adulterer,
Would never leave her phone at hotel",
This Holmes said, backed by balance of probability.
They waited at a restaurant,
And the wait was long,
But worth it.
Had to chase a taxi,
which was done successfully,
Thanks to Sherlock's excellent memory.
Hence proved it was,
The psychosomatic limb of Doctor.
A drugs bust had occurred at their place,
Seriously, this man, a deduction ****** would have drugs?
"I'm not a psychopath Anderson,
I'm a high functioning sociopath,
Do your research!"
Snapped Mr. Punchline.
Just a couple of minutes later,
This brilliant sleuth realized-
"Rachel! Yes, Rachel!
This woman in pink, Jennifer,
Is clever,
And she's dead!",
much to Mr. Holmes's displeasure.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 12:24 PM UTC
Dear Sherlock,
Please get out of my mind.
You distract me,
Like sparkles in the wine.
When I want to sleep,
You shout in my head- "Boring!".
Even when I am doing my favourite subject,
After each question I correctly solve,
You whisper in your deepest voice-
"The game is on."
I keep myself away from the laptop screen,
But do you have any theory to avoid you in my brain?
If yes, ugh! Please do tell this teen.
Maybe I should develop this 'mind palace',
And assign a separate room to you.
And during my busy hours,
I swear, Sherlock,
On it, I'll put a heavy lock.
I need to do my work,
But on the desk in my head,
You always seem to lurk.
Now please go away from me,
Or I'll call John and then you see!
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 3:27 AM UTC
**~~~~~Spoilers Ahead~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
Didn’t know SH was so amazing,
A second degree mind palace,
He was keeping.
What we watched in an hour,
And were perplexed by, for days,
Had taken place in his mind,
In mere 300 seconds!
Baffled with the news of return of Moriarty,
He decides to solve a similar case,
That had occurred 120 years ago.
He recreates his whole life,
Complete,
With Irene’s photograph,
In his pocket watch.
Fits all the pieces in 1895,
All,
Including John’s witty wife,
Then enters the ‘cleverer one’,
And fatter this time,
Having already made a theory,
He asks Sherlock to do the leg-work,
Because Mycroft himself is busy,
Trying to beat his little brother.
The game is afoot again,
All in Sherlock’s complex brain,
He exposes the truth,
Of Mrs. Ricoletti’s death,
Just as he was about to know about Moriarty’s,
He’s is woken by his friend.
But he goes back again,
To complete the story.
To solve the mystery,
He goes to the Falls,
To again finish the problem,
The final problem.
But this time John interrupts,
In 1895,
And kicks Moriarty off the cliff,
To let Mr. Holmes happily, alone,
Complete the fall.
Now he returns to the present,
With a smile conveying I-know-it-all,
And he does know all about the villain,
His death, his plans,
And the rest.
Jan 8, 2016
Jan 8, 2016 at 3:19 AM UTC
Emma Watson without question is the most amazing woman that has ever existed.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 2:17 AM UTC
Dear Emma Watson -
Shall we make love
The object of
Our spiritual quest
Together?
Surely an altogether
Better option
Than pairing you off
In a commentary box
With one John Motson
Discussing twenty two
Pairs of socks
Chasing a piece of leather?
If spiritual questing
Is not for you
I will make do
With tightly tied pairs of shoes
Existential emus,
Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes.
Whilst hoping you find
Your Sherlock Holmes,
Miss Watson
I will content myself with
Cataloguing my collection of
Black and white combs.
I also have plots on
Which I need to work -
Wednesday Addams's love of
Moon dried tomatoes
Or Erica Roe
Somewhere in Portugal
Growing sweet potatoes
For sale.
Don't let anyone tell you
There ain't no perks
To being an Omega Male.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 8:01 AM UTC