#'its always sherlock this' based I would do the same /j

[lilies-are-azules]

I rarely see people give louis that status in william's life tho? It's always sherlock this romantic love that

You're probably right and maybe I just read three fics that did the same thing in the same hour and im just exaggerating.

(Maybe im having a moment because I've been in a lot of fandoms were they do this thing of "adoptive sibling is less siblings because they are not blood related")

I still wanted to point that I don't think Liam would do this difference of adoptive/biological sibling. I believe that if they weren't blood related Liam would still be overprotective with Louis.

[shezzaspeare]

Pilot/Episode 1: Patching Things Up With Pastiche & Fanfiction

Hi, hello, and the wait is finally over! My name is Blessie, and welcome to the first episode webisode log installation I've decided to call these things an episode for now because why not also let me know what do you actually call these things episode of The Science of Fanfiction, where we take a closer look into our beloved works of fanon because we've all got plenty of time to spare till Season 5. Before I continue, I would like to thank everyone who's liked and reblogged the last few posts before this one. It means a lot for a small and growing Tumblr user like me, and your support is something I cherish more than my modules. You guys rock!

Anyways, like with most things, we have to talk about the boring and bland stuff before we proceed with the fun stuff. For today, we are going to settle the difference between a couple of things: first being the confusion between pastiche and fanfiction; then the distinctions between tropes, clichés, and stereotypes, which we'll tackle the next time. It's important for us to establish their true meanings in order for us to really understand what fanfiction truly is, even if it's merely just a work done for the fandom. I know – it's boring, it's something that shouldn't be expounded that much, but I believe that all forms of writing (unless it's plagiarised) is a work of art — and fanfiction is not something we always talk about. I hope that by the end of this, you'll learn about what they really are as much as I did. Let's begin to talk about the—

[Image ID: A flashback of John (left) and Sherlock (right) finding an elephant (not in the screen) in a room in The Sign of Three. End ID]

. . . I did say that this GIF will always have to make an appearance here, didn't I?

So, just as with Sherlock Holmes, all other works of fiction have their own pastiches and fanfiction, and many more original works out there have taken inspiration from them to create their own books. Although they've gained popular attention, this will not be possible if they did not have taken inspiration from the materials their writers had at the time.

[Image ID: Various actors as Dracula. Jeremy Brett in 'Dracula' (1978) (upper left), Adam Sandler in a voice role for 'Hotel Transylvania' (2012) (upper right), Gary Oldman in 'Dracula' (1992) (lower left), and Bela Lugosi in 'Dracula' (1933) (lower right). End ID]

For instance, Bram Stoker's 'Dracula' (the second most adapted literary character, next to the consulting detective himself) has been portrayed on the screen over 200 times — from Gary Oldman to Adam Sandler — and has spawned off numerous books and pastiches of its own such as Stephen King's 'Salem's Lot'. Its cultural impact served as a basis of how we see vampires today, since some characteristics of the Count were made by Stoker himself. Stoker's creation is the brainchild of his predecessors and inspirations.

[Image ID: Vlad the Impaler (left) and a book cover of 'Carmilla' by J. Sheridan Le Fanu (right). End ID]

Other than the ongoing hysteria over dead back then and the existing vampire folklore, Stoker also took his inspirations from the published books on vampires he had at hand. He is said to have taken inspiration from Vlad the Impaler, a Romanian national hero known allegedly for having impalement as his favourite method of torture. He is also said to have been inspired by the J. Sheridan Le Fanu's 'Carmilla', a Gothic lesbian vampire novella that predates Dracula by 26 years. I could go on, but hey, we're going back to Sherlock Holmes now before I deviate any further. However, if you want to know about Dracula's literary origins, I suggest you watch Ted-ED's videos about the subject matter such as this one or this one.

Very much like Stoker, ACD didn't just conceive Holmes on his own. He took his own inspirations from what he had available at the time.

[Image ID: Dr Joseph Bell (left) and Edgar Allan Poe (right). End ID]

As we all know, ACD's biggest inspiration for Sherlock Holmes was one of his teachers at the Edinburgh University, Joseph Bell. He was famous for his powers of deduction, and he was also interested in forensic science — both characteristics which Holmes is greatly known for. He also drew inspiration from Edgar Allan Poe's sleuth, C. Auguste Dupin ('The Purloined Letter' & 'Murders in Rue Morgue'). As ACD himself has said at the 1909 Poe Centennial Dinner: "Where was the detective story until Poe breathed life into it?" Some other writers he took after are Wilkie Collins, Émile Gaboriau, and Oscar Wilde.

Now, what does this say about us Sherlockians/Holmesians (depending if you're the coloniser or the one that was colonised)? Basically, ACD laid the groundwork for us with Sherlock Holmes: his humble abode 221B that he shares with his flatmate Dr. John Watson, his adventures, memoirs, return, casebook, last vow, and all that. Now that we have this material at hand, we can now make our own versions, takes, or even original stories featuring the characters of the Canon. Our inspiration comes from ACD's Sherlock Holmes, and we now get the chance to make our very own stories/conspiracy theories about them.

As I have mentioned earlier, Sherlock Holmes is the most adapted literary character in history. He has been adapted in over 200 films, more than 750 radio adaptations, a ballet, 2 musicals; and he's become a mouse, a woman, a dog, even a bloody cucumber. On top of all that are numerous pastiches and fanfics, and finally, we have arrived at the main topic of our post!

Fanfiction and pastiche are often confused together since they have three common elements: they take after the original work, they usually use the characters in that original work, and more often than not do are they set in that same time frame/period or not long after that. The common misconception is that pastiche are printed fanfiction, which is only partly true. While pastiche is definitely fanfiction in some ways and vice versa, there are fanfictions out there that aren't necessarily classified as pastiche that have been published.

Let's get on with our definition of terms to clear up the confusion a little more. Pastiche, according to Literary Terms, is:

. . . a creative work that imitates another author or genre. It’s a way of paying respect, or honor, to great works of the past. Pastiche differs from parody in that pastiche isn’t making fun of the works it imitates – however, the tone of pastiche is often humorous.

A good example of a pastiche is Sophie Hannah's 'The Monogram Murders', which is her take from Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot.

[Image ID: A book cover of 'The Monogram Murders' by Sophie Hannah. End ID.]

Although this was a commission from Christie's estate, it's still considered as a pastiche as:

It's takes after Christie's writing style;

It is set in the early years of Poirot's career (1929), which is still within the time frame that the author wrote him in;

It features Poirot and;

It pays respect to Christie in a sense that it stays true to her (Christie) characters and way of storytelling.

Meanwhile, our good and slightly unreliable friend Wikipedia defines fanfiction as:

. . . is fictional writing written by fans, commonly of an existing work of fiction. The author uses copyrighted characters, settings, or other intellectual property from the original creator(s) as a basis for their writing. [It] ranges from a couple of sentences to an entire novel, and fans can both keep the creator's characters and settings and/or add their own. [ . . . ] [It] can be based on any fictional (and sometimes non-fictional) subject. Common bases for fanfiction include novels, movies, bands, and video games.

To avoid any copyright infringement issues if I ever use a popular fanfic in the fandom, we'll use my (unfinished and unpopular) Sherlock Wattpad fic, 'Play Pretend'. You can read it here.

[Image ID: The second self-made book cover of Blessie/shezzaspeare's 'Play Pretend'. End ID]

Why is it considered a fanfiction and not a pastiche?

It takes after an adaptation of Sherlock Holmes (BBC Sherlock) which is a TV show, not the ACD canon itself;

The author (in this case myself) uses her own writing style and does not take after the original story's style;

Although it is set well in modern-day London and after Season 4, it also features scenes decades before the actual fanfic is set and outside of London;

I added a considerable number of characters, i.e. siblings to canon characters;

I had my own take some of the canon characters' personality especially after the events of Sherrinford;

It is written by a fan – myself. It is a work of fan labour and;

It is only a work of fanon, and isn't likely going to be considered by the show as its writing style is different from the actual show.

To put it simply, you can have more freedom in a fanfiction as it does not necessarily restrict you to follow or take after the original stories. Alternate universes (AUs) such as Unilock and Teenlock are perfect examples of this thing.

So can a pastiche be classified as fanfiction? Yes.

Can a fanfiction be classified as pastiche? Not all the time.

What's the difference? While yes, they share the basics, pastiche is technically leans more onto the original work's fundamental elements whereas fanfiction is a broader range of works inspired by the original work but doesn't necessarily follow all or any of its fundamental elements.

In order for us to understand it more, I'll give another example.

[Image ID: The 'Enola Holmes' title card (upper left) and Henry Cavill as its Sherlock holmes (upper right). Underneath it is a a scene from the opening titles of BBC Sherlock (lower left) and Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock Holmes in A Scandal In Belgravia. (lower right) End ID]

Most of you are familiar with these 21st-century adaptations of Holmes: the 2020 adaptation of Nancy Springer's Enola Holmes books and BBC Sherlock, which needs no further explanation – but for those who don't know, it's basically Holmes and the gang if they were alive today. I specifically chose these two as they are the ones that I believe would get my points across best. Though both are considered as wonderful pastiches with a well-rounded cast and awesome visuals, if we break them down bit by bit, we'll see which one is more of a pastiche and which one is more of a fanfic. (Yes, I know they're both screen adaptations. However, as Enola Holmes was based on the books and BBC Sherlock's fanfiction has the show's scenes written out in most fanfics, hear me out.)

They share these characteristics of a pastiche:

They feature characters from the Canon (Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes, and Lestrade);

They have additional characters added by the writers (Including but not limited to Molly Hooper, Eurus Holmes, and Philip Anderson for BBC Sherlock while Enola Holmes has Lord Tewkesbury, Eudoria Holmes, and Enola herself) and;

They pay respect to the original Canon as their stories are based on the cases (BBC Sherlock) or simply what was going on around them (Enola Holmes).

They also share these characteristics of a fanfic:

They are made by enthusiasts of Sherlock Holmes (Moffat has called himself and Mark Gatiss 'Sherlock Holmes geeks', while Nancy Springer's Enola Holmes books are not just one or two but six);

They follow a common trope (we'll discuss these tropes in the following episodes) that goes on in the fandom (Sherlock's Sister & Modern AU)

They are based on a fictional subject (Sherlock Holmes);

They used characters and story elements that are copyrighted by the author/author's estate (fun fact: prior to the production of Enola Holmes, the Conan Doyle Estate filed a lawsuit against Springer & Netflix over Sherlock's emotions since he was more 'sympathetic' than he was portrayed in the Canon – this was later dismissed by both parties) and;

Their writing styles don't necessarily follow ACD's.

Despite these similarities, there are very obvious differences between the two that separates them from being a pastiche and a fanfiction.

Enola Holmes embodies pastiche more as it doesn't stray far away from the original elements of the Canon. It's still set in Victorian England. While Springer added characters of her own and definitely twisted the Canon to suit her series, she didn't necessarily place them out of the social construct that was going on around the characters. It follows ACD's writing style more as Enola Holmes' setting still remains within the Canon's original setting.

Meanwhile, we can safely say that BBC Sherlock is a work of fanfiction. While it did give us The Abominable Bride, the main series focused on Holmes and Watson in 21st-century England, which is drastically different from Victorian England. There are phones, black cabs, and cellphones — things which ACD Sherlock Holmes doesn't have. It also diverted from the Canon in the characters themselves, which is mostly seen in the names: Henry Baskerville became Henry Knight, Charles Augustus Milverton became Charles Augustus Magnussen, the H in Dr Watson's name stood for Hamish and Sherlock's full name is actually William Sherlock Scott Holmes. They also changed the personalities of some Canon characters: Mary was actually an ex-assassin, Mrs Hudson was an exotic dancer who drove a kick-ass sports car, Irene Adler is a dominatrix, to name a few. Moffat and Gatiss created a world of their own featuring the characters of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, which is really what most of us fanfic writers do with Mofftiss' rendition of Holmes.

In conclusion: while pastiche and fanfiction could have been the same thing, they're actually not. There's more to them that just printed fanfiction or pastiche e-books, and we all should take some time to see and observe them in a closer perspective.

And that's it for our first episode! I hope you enjoyed it. It was a lot fun for me to write this, especially now that I'm only starting. I would also like to note that while intensive research has been done on this series, some parts of this comes from my own observation and opinion, which may vary from yours. I am very much open to criticism, as long as it is said in a polite and civil manner. I'm still young, and to be educated as I go is something that could really help me with this series.

Like and reblog this you like it. It helps out a lot. Be sure to follow me as well and the tags underneath if you want to see more of TSoF.

See you soon!

Blessie presents – The Science of Fanfiction: A Study In Sherlock (2021) • Next

Follow me! • My Carrd | My YouTube Channel

SOURCES • Pinterest, Google Images, Wikipedia, Literary Terms, Conan Doyle Estate, Definitions, The Sherlock Holmes Book, and Google

[janeofcakes]

Chapter 111

(Sherlock Holmes stands looking at his own reflection in a large 19th century mirror. As he finishes straightening his tie, his eyes float upward to the dark brown curls he has arranged just so. The bruises that were once around his eye are nearly undetectable. The broken flesh of his cheekbone has become a mere pink line beneath his lower lashes, all due to a certain doctor’s careful ministrations. Sherlock smiles to himself as he plucks a boutonniere of wild flowers from the dressing table and pins it to his lapel.

The heavy oak door opens behind him and he shifts to see said doctor sneaking into the room, glancing out into the hall cautiously as he enters. Sherlock turns fully and rests his hands on his hips, affecting an imposing posture. He stretches to his full height, shoulders back, looming over John as he turns to face his groom. Much to Sherlock’s surprise, John takes absolutely no notice and marches right up to the detective.)

J: (smiling) Hey, babe. Just thought I’d come see you. Do you have any idea how many people are out there? I thought we agreed on a small wedding. (Sherlock does not comment, a quizzical expression on his face.) What?

S: Is it not bad luck for you to see me before the wedding?

J: No, it’s bad luck if I give you a blow job before the wedding.

(Sherlock’s eyes widen and his brows rise into his hairline. He is still confused by all the ceremony and tradition surrounding these proceedings, and cannot keep himself from being intrigued.)

S: It is?

J: (laughing) No. Not at all.

(Sherlock’s mystified expression is quickly replaced with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. He crosses his arms over his chest.)

S: It is unfair of you to take advantage of my lack of knowledge on matters of social convention.

J: (with a bright smile) I know, I know. I just can’t help myself.

(Sherlock lets out a huff of exasperation and rolls his eyes. John takes a small step forward and lets his shoulders visibly drop as if trying to relieve tension. He lifts his chin and smiles nervously.

Suddenly Sherlock finds himself uneasy. Suppose John has changed his mind. Suppose being the husband of a mad detective who gets into life-threatening situations as easily as “normal” people make tea is not what he wants after all. Swallowing his fears and telling himself he’s being irrational, Sherlock clears his throat and looks at the floor.)

S: Is there something you want to tell me? Something we need to discuss?

J: Well, yeah. But, uh, not as such. (He steps a little closer still.) I wanted to show you this before the ceremony. (He produces a small velvet box from his pocket and opens it slowly.) I want you to have a chance to see it before I put it on your finger.

(John’s hands tremble with excitement and his expression is easily the most adorable Sherlock has ever seen on his face. He looks so young, so innocent, eager to see Sherlock’s reaction and hoping it is a good one. John’s brows are raised, and his face is bright and open.

When Sherlock manages to tear his eyes from this man he adores to focus instead on the box said man is holding, a quiet gasp escapes his lips. The ring is dark in color, a smooth black metal molded into a stunning and uninterrupted circle. Sherlock blinks at his own eyes shining back at him in the glowing ring. He opens his mouth to speak, not even sure what he will say, but John barrels on nervously.)

J: It’s tungsten carbide. It had to be a strong metal like mine, so it wouldn’t be bunged up on a case, and… (the speed of his words finally slows as he raises his eyes to the detective’s face) And I thought the dark color would contrast with your skin beautifully.

S: (breathlessly) It will. Oh, John, it’s perfect.

J: (with a little chuckle) You haven’t even seen the inscription yet.

S: Inscription?

(Sherlock’s eyes dart from the ring to John and back.)

J: Go ahead.

(John moves the box a little closer to Sherlock. The tall man reaches for it, hesitating just before touching the ring. The tip of his index finger ghosts over it. He’s mildly afraid all of this will disappear the moment he touches it. He glances up at John again.)

J: Go on, Sherlock.

(John’s soft laugh prompts him to pinch the ring between his fingertip and thumb, and pull it delicately from the box. He turns it around in his hands, admiring its flawless design, and then notices four words engraved into its inner side. He holds it with his fingertips again and reads aloud.)

S: Yours, always and forever.

(His silver eyes move from the words to John’s face.)

J: I know. (swallowing and smiling, still nervous) I know it’s redundant, but the inscription you put on mine has the word always in it too. It just felt right to have it on both. And forever… (He hesitates and meets Sherlock’s eyes.) I wanted you to know that I am committing to you not just now, for as long as we live, but even when this life ends and the next begins. Our souls will be together until time itself ends.

S: (in a deep, hushed tone) Time is infinite.

J: Precisely. (Smile #24: pure, honest glee spreads slowly across his lips.) Always and forever.

(Sherlock’s head tilts as he takes a long step forward and wraps his arms around the smaller man, crushing their lips together in a hard, fervent kiss. John nearly drops the ring box, his hands finding Sherlock’s hips. Sherlock cradles John’s nape as he deepens the kiss and tickles John’s lips open with his tongue. They move together languidly. Both men feel almost dizzy, sharing in the delight that this is their future. Their lives forever intertwined into one life that neither had ever imagined possible.

John inhales deeply when their lips part, feeling giddy and excited. Sherlock has a similar look on his face, his cheekbones tinted pink. He swallows quickly, a smug curl twitching on his lips.)

S: I am quite certain it is bad luck to kiss me before the wedding.

(John’s face lights up with a completely unabashed grin and he laughs loudly from deep in his belly. Sherlock joins him instantly and kisses the top of his head when John rests his forehead on the taller man’s chest.)

(When he pulls back, John wears a mischievous expression, one brow cocked, and the corners of his mouth turned up. Sherlock pecks his lips and begins shooing him toward the door.)

J: (giggling) What are you doing? You aren’t even superstitious.

S: No, but Mrs. Hudson is. Now get out of here before she returns to impart more advice on how to be a good husband.

(Sherlock grimaces as he backs John to the door. John’s smile grows and he stops walking. His left hand comes to rest on the taller man’s chest, pressing against it with mild force. Sherlock pauses mid-step and studies John inquisitively.)

J: Mrs. Hudson’s been telling you how to be a good husband?

S: Yes.

J: To me?

S: (sighing impatiently) You are the man I’m about to marry.

(John huffs a laugh while Sherlock frowns and raises a brow.)

S: Hasn’t she done the same to you?

J: No.

(Sherlock rolls his eyes and looks away, shifting his weight. But he looks back quickly when John starts giggling. He fixes the doctor with a suspicious glare.)

S: (in a warning tone) John.

J: So, what has she been telling you?

S: Drop it, John.

(The detective looms over John and begins stalking toward him again. The doctor instinctively backs away.)

J: Did she mention rubbing my feet after a long day at the surgery? (Sherlock continues walking and looking at John darkly.) Making tea every so often? Or maybe cleaning up the flat without being…

(His back hits the door with a thud. Sherlock swoops in and covers John’s lips with his own. One hand finds John’s hip while the fingers of the other curl around John’s cheek. He takes his time ravishing the doctor and then briefly sucks on his lower lip as he pulls away, leaving John gasping and his eyes hazy.)

S: (growling) Get out, John. Get out before Mrs. Hudson finds me shagging you senseless. (John’s pupils go wide with lust. Sherlock slides his fingers from John’s cheek to his nape. He kisses him softly.) We will be married in just under two hours. Free to spend every second together in whatever state of dress we wish, and free to tell everyone else to piss off. Now, go.

J: (quietly) I need the ring back.

(Sherlock lifts his left hand off of John’s hip and raises it to eye level. He curls his fingers into a fist, leaving only the pinky straight, the ring nestled loosely around it. He smiles at John seductively, his voice rumbling at least an octave lower than usual.)

S: Or… You mentioned a blow job before the wedding?

(Arousal already pooling in his belly and shifting quickly to his groin, John chuckles as he slides the ring from Sherlock’s little finger. As soon as the ring is gone, he wraps his lips around the finger and sucks it into his mouth. Sherlock lets out a sharp gasp when John releases it and then licks it from base to tip. He smiles wickedly, licking his lips, and folding the finger down with the others.)

J: Something to think about until tonight.

S: (breathless once again) John Watson, you are a villain.

(John waggles his brows and gives his fiance a salacious grin.)

J: Love you. (He tucks the ring into its box and turns to the door, opening it to leave. He glances to either side and then looks back at Sherlock.) See you soon.

(They share a quick kiss and John scampers back to his own dressing room, which is also the “Honeymoon Suite,” as it were. It is the largest bedroom in the medium-sized mansion of the Holmes country property. When they arrived three days ago to settle in and oversee the wedding arrangements, John simply stood gaping after climbing out of the car.

Sherlock had referred to it as a “small country house dating back to the mid-19th century”. John had expected the modest, little Dashwood home pulled right from the pages of Jane Austen, but what he found instead was very clearly not small and certainly not what he had envisioned as a country home. Doorways and windows framed in carved oak, lush colors and fabrics, everything one would expect in a moderately-sized period mansion. And yet, it also has a modern kitchen with every convenience, as well as a flat screen telly tastefully affixed to the wall in the sitting room. And WIFI, naturally.

The house is truly a perfect blend of the present and past, and also very reflective of the detective himself. John still cannot help but wonder how much time Sherlock spent in the house before John met him. The man certainly seems as much at ease as in 221B. As the last three days have passed, John has come to believe that this is the place Sherlock imagines when he speaks of retiring one day and keeping bees.

John silently opens the door to his bedroom and slips inside. Closing it behind and believing he has gone unobserved, he turns into the room to see Mycroft Holmes standing before the rather large fireplace. He smiles at John in that sly, mildly irritated way and turns to face him fully.)

M: John. I trust my brother is well and full of…anticipation.

J: Mycroft. Can’t say I expected to find you here. No last minute troubles out there, I hope.

M: No, no. Certainly not. Mrs. Hudson has taken it upon herself to make sure everything is ready.

J: Ah, well, good. (looking at him expectantly) And you need…what again?

M: Of course. I thought you and I should have a chat before the proceedings.

J: Really? Suddenly you decide to be protective. Is this the “I’ll kill you if you hurt him” talk?

M: (with a quiet chuckle) God, no. And you know as well as I that I have always been protective. (John nods once. That certainly cannot be denied. Mycroft takes a few steps toward John and tries to affect a more friendly demeanor.) I am not here to threaten you, John, but there is a conversation that must be had.

J: Oh? With no threats? That can’t be right.

(Mycroft fixes him with a serious gaze. His mouth in a straight line while he sizes up the doctor. John is just beginning to think a threat is forthcoming after all when the older man leans on his ever-present umbrella and begins to speak in a calm, but intensified tone.)

M: You know what happened when Sherlock thought you dead.

J: Yeah, he figured it out almost instantly.

M: But you do not know what occurred when you had apparently left him.

J: I left clues in the note. I assumed Sherlock found them and came looking. (John sighs and puts his hands on his hips, shifting his weight.) But he didn’t, did he?

M: I’m afraid not. He only saw the clues after your inspector insisted the note was suspicious. (He pauses and gives him an ominous look.) And after detoxification.

J: Detoxifi… He didn’t.

M: He did.

(John closes his eyes and bows his head. When he opens them, he stares at his own feet sadly. His shoulders are sagging as he breathes slowly. It feels like all the air has left his lungs and each inhalation replenishes only a fraction of what was lost. John suddenly looks much smaller in Mycroft’s eyes and he wonders for a moment if revealing this was the best idea. But then John straightens and looks the taller man dead in the eye, a stern expression on his face.)

J: What is this? You’re telling me what he’ll do if I leave him so I won’t? So I’ll be afraid to do it? You needn’t have bothered. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.

M: (sighing) John, much as it may seem, I am not attempting to blackmail you emotionally.

J: (biting off the words) Then what the fuck are you doing?

M: I am trying to tell you what you mean to Sherlock. John, no one has ever held such a place in his life, in his heart, and none ever will again.

J: (angrily) You don’t think I know that? You think he hasn’t told me that?

M: No. No, John, I don’t know what he’s told you. My brother is not known for expressing his feelings and it is important for you to understand just that. His feelings for you run deeply, John. He values you and what you bring to his life. In spite of his insults and carelessness, it has always been you. (Mycroft smiles genuinely.) You keep him right.

J: (quietly) He does as much for me.

M: I know you don’t value my opinion. (John opens his mouth to protest, but Mycroft cuts him off.) Certainly not of your relationship with my brother. I spent far too much time trying to tear you apart because I thought it would weaken Sherlock. Make him more vulnerable to that which might destroy him. It wasn’t until Molly and I became closer that I finally saw you for what you are. A strength, an ally, a force. The piece of Sherlock that was always missing. (He pauses. The two men study one another in silence.) Again, I am aware my opinion means little, but…you are worthy of him. Truly. And I welcome you.

(Once again, John feels bereft of breath. He inhales deeply and shuffles to a cushioned chair, laying his hand on its high back as much to steady himself as to confirm he’s not hallucinating. Licking his lips, he can’t help but smile at the elder Holmes.)

J: Thank you, Mycroft. (letting out a short laugh) You’re right about your opinion not mattering in the slightest, but I…appreciate it nonetheless.

M: (the corners of his mouth curling) Of course.

J: (clearing his throat) There’s something else we need to discuss, by the way.  I will come for you if you hurt Molly.

(Mycroft smiles outright now.)

M: You needn’t concern yourself.

J: (smiling back) I know. And you don’t need to worry for Sherlock.

M: I know.

(Mycroft straightens and walks confidently to the bedroom door, umbrella swinging in his loose grip. He turns back to John as his fingers grip the doorknob.)

M: I believe the ceremony is set to begin in a few minutes, so I will leave you to your final preparations. I wouldn’t want to delay you.

J: Very gentlemanly of you. Oh, and Mycroft? (The man stops midway and meets John’s friendly eyes.) Thank Molly for me.

(Mycroft’s smile is immediate. He nods and exits the room, closing the door behind.)

[euphoriccalliope-blog]

C’mon. Play the Game.

This just popped into my head re: the Sherlock ARG getting underway in earnest, and some anxiety around that. Folks who’ve been going harddd since January 15th are exhausted -- all the more so because the Sherlock fandom is used to operating on a years-long hiatus schedule and we’ve suddenly been pushed into hourly realtime effort. It’s decidedly uncomfortable on one hand, but also thrilling.

The ARG is basically an epic game of chicken. Do we trust we know the rules and parameters enough to play it without getting bruised or overly frustrated by TPTB who are playing it with us? We’ve been burnt before. If there is no explicit prize of another episode, promised upfront, then what does “winning” mean other than knowing we were smart enough to risk our pride to prove we’re clever? 

Answer: we play it because we can, because we want to, and yeah, because we’re clever. And maybe we also know we can rescue each other from it if it gets too cray. And because it makes us fall in love with the brilliant members of this fandom a bit more. (John has a role also in this scene.)

A Study in Not Blinking

It strikes me that there are a lot of parallels between the fandom’s feelings around the ARG and this scene in ASiP when the cabbie (Moftiss) convinces Sherlock (us?) to stay at the table, even though S. knows there is no gun keeping him there. The cabbie’s gun is fake. Just as many brill folks have determined that the gun at the end of TLD/bracketing TFP is also _not a tranquilizer gun_.  It’s not what we are told it is, based on the evidence of our eyes. And same goes for the representation of a J&S romantic relationship on the show -- we stand by our visual understanding of what is real and there, vs. the “official” view point that it isn’t, and also btw who you are doesn’t matter. 

Bear with me a sec. I think based on what we have seen so far in the ARG, they have been playing a very long game indeed. Witness @tjlcisthenewsexy’s recent brilliant discovery & explication about the cabbie’s license # from ASiP (X). My hunch is that they’ve been building in meta-ARG stuff all along, all so that they would have the option of using it later if they wanted. With that in mind, let’s take a look at the ASiP classroom showdown from the perspective of where we are now, dipping our toes into the ARG.

Read this through, please:

Transcript courtesy of the lovely and astute Ariane DeVere (X) -- S1 E1, part 4:

CLASSROOM. SHERLOCK: What if I don’t choose either? I could just walk out of here. (Sighing in a combination of exasperation and disappointment, Jeff lifts up the pistol and points it at Sherlock.) JEFF: You can take your fifty-fifty chance, or I can shoot you in the head. (Sherlock smiles calmly.) JEFF: Funnily enough, no-one’s ever gone for that option. SHERLOCK: I’ll have the gun, please. JEFF: Are you sure? SHERLOCK (still smiling): Definitely. The gun. JEFF: You don’t wanna phone a friend? (Sherlock smiles confidently.) SHERLOCK: The gun. (Jeff’s mouth tightens, and slowly he squeezes the trigger. A small flame bursts out of the end of the muzzle. Sherlock smiles smugly.) SHERLOCK: I know a real gun when I see one. (Calmly Jeff lifts the pistol/cigarette lighter and releases the trigger. The flame goes out.) JEFF: None of the others did. SHERLOCK: Clearly. Well, this has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case. (He stands up and walks towards the door. Jeff puts the gun onto the desk and calmly turns in his seat.) JEFF: Just before you go, did you figure it out ... (Sherlock stops at the door and half-turns towards him.) JEFF: ... which one’s the good bottle? SHERLOCK: Of course. Child’s play. JEFF: Well, which one, then? (Sherlock opens the door a little but shows no sign of leaving the room.) JEFF: Which one would you ’ave picked, just so I know whether I could have beaten you? (Sherlock closes the door again.) JEFF (chuckling): Come on. Play the game. (Slowly Sherlock walks back towards him. When he gets to the table, he reaches out and sweeps up the bottle nearest to Jeff, then walks past him. Jeff looks down at the other bottle with interest but his voice gives nothing away as he speaks.)

Aside: Aaaand now I get the deeper level of all the Russian roulette gun-swapping references that have been going around (maybe kept up most hilariously by @joolabee originally). 

ARG Meta Interpretation of the ASiP Classroom Showdown

Sorry if this is just reiterating something that someone else has already done. My brain is mush at the moment, and it is entirely possible folks have already thought of this exchange in a post-S4, mid-ARG context.

Here’s the mid-ARG meta view of this scene:

The fandom doesn’t have to play the ARG (alternate reality game). No one is making us. We could just walk out of here.

But. We don’t like being manipulated. We decide to play along only so far as to call the puppet master’s (cabbie/Moriarty/Moftiss) bluff, and make them show us what we are playing for, and force them to surrender.  I’ll have the gun, please. We know what we are looking at (johnlock) and we believe we are right. We cannot be intimidated. I believe this corresponds to the anti-S4 backlash campaign, and the earnest expectation of more content.

The bluff is called. Definitely. The gun. Gun is not what it appears to be. The fandom unpacks TFP and other elements of S4 that are “fake,” and documents/discusses, all in record time. Some of us come out of shock and begin to see elements of narrative threads that can make sense of the mess, the true signals buried in the fake noise.

The Powers That Be (TPTB, the cabbie/Moriarty/Moftiss, all of whom are in charge of the game structure and who know us well enough to be always changing it to suit us with perfect temptations) applaud our skill in seeing the fake gun. We are unfuckable; no fear. We insist:  I know a real gun when I see one.

On our own, we look back over all the times in BBC show canon, esp. within that TPTB seemingly acknowledged fandom interpretation as being deeper than casual-viewer understanding of the show. This was them saying to us: None of the others did. TAB’s heart of the conspiracy, TST’s references to ice lollies, tea code, the best secret societies having acronyms, TFP shockproof elephant glass, etc.

After S4 airs and is effed up, especially TFP, they begin to lose us for a a bit, first because narrative was false to its characters, and then because queerbaiting hamfistedness. TPTB will not publicly or officially engage to confess what their deal is. But we know what we saw. Justifiable anger/frustration/hurt from fanbase over TPTB’s lack of acknowledgment re: queerbaiting and lack of representation. Fandom amasses lists of canonical show reference points as evidence of our case. We take that case to the wider internet, to the BBC, and elsewhere, to try to hold TPTB somehow morally or legally responsible for all that jazz. There are conversations about the fandom crowdfunding an Operation Norbury PR/lawsuit initiative. We get up to leave, and we say to them: Clearly. Well, this has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case.

And then. And then they challenge us to play the game anyway, with the free knowledge that they cannot manipulate us directly with more bullets of questionable narrative content -- nothing more has been officially announced. We are on the point of walking away to wait passively, to write fix-it fic and make art and chat amongst ourselves, and get on with our lives. . . . But. There is a hint of a vast situation in front of us that offers puzzle-solving, intelligence, close-reading of the world, adrenaline and connections. Also possibly witty recycling of our own in-jokes and crack memes, and helping those to become part of the actual 130-year-old vast Sherlock canon’s Great Game, in the service of making real what we have repeatedly seen and know to be true within the BBC show. It’s rather irresistible. And they say: Come on. Play the game.

Do we turn around and consider it? I have already decided I need to sit down at the table and examine the possibilities. I don’t care about seeming foolish, so pride is not a concern. It’s not risking my life, and has the potential to be great fun. . . I respect the decision of those who don’t want to play, but personally I do. I think this is us losing our patience in the most delightful way possible, and taking the reins. Expect the best explosions.

So that’s that. I have no idea how much of this I can keep up with, simultaneously with work commitments and a personal life. But I have hope that the community can collectively carry it forward 24-7 and keep an open mind, and keep pulling on loose threads because it’s fun, and we’re clever. The fandom knows no time zones; we are global and we are engaged. You’re a scintillating group, and this narrative, this Sherlock-TV-world-real-life narrative, is super compelling. It pushes all my researcher buttons in the best way, with the ultimate reward that finding answers makes them real. No clue whether we will see canon Johnlock but I think this is worth playing to see where it goes.

Especially if we can wink knowingly at each other while doing so. (Pleased to meet you, by the way.)

Postscript: Suggestions for How to Play

ARGNet post on Getting Started with ARGs (X)

If you don’t want to play the ARG but want to stay otherwise actively engaged in the fandom, consider saying so at the top of your Tumblr blog, and perhaps blocking the (#sherlock arg) tag. I propose that tag should go on everything ARG-related. 

Reminder to please document with links what you do, and tag/share info so that others can easily know what you’ve done and seen, and carry it forward. When you can, read the notes on a post and repost from something useful or new that someone else on that thread has said, done or seen -- this includes folks who want to be part of it all. Embed links in X marks like so (X) so they will show up in notes.

Players who are coming at this from TJLC fandom should throw in the #tjlc tag, to keep it front and center. All ARG playing requires tinfoil hat wearing, so I’m going to say we mostly drop that set of tinfoil hat tags unless you want to throw it in there. It’s more important to keep #tjlc if that’s the flag you fly.

If you are codebreaking, please post:

the encoded source ciphertext and where it came from (with a link also if possible), and

if you have broken the code, include the translated plaintext, as well as

what kind of cipher it was, and what key(s) it used.

be sure to add the tag (#sherlock arg codebreaking) so our army of smarties can become increasingly code-literate within the ARG, as codes become more complex.

If you’re playing, then play. Contribute something. Use the tags to read up and learn for yourself what’s going on. Engagement is always welcome, but try to refrain from just passively asking others to fill you in personally via direct questions to their ask boxes. Folks will be busy pursuing their own inquiries and organizing the info they have found. And ask box space may be precious to some, if that is how ARG clues tend to arrive from mysterious sources. 

Other optional tags: 

#dancing with the octopus = not knowing how many of the arms of the ARG we are or will engage, but enjoying ourselves anyway. 

#the greater game = gives immediate context for what the ARG is in a way that makes folks think of Sherlock and not pirates (Belated epiphany: OMG. Sherlock always wanted to be a pirate. What do pirates say? ARRRRRG.)

#sherlock chess arg = references the S4 chess promo pic that throws the game pieces to us, and tells us it’s our move.

Tagging folks (I’m wary of tagging too many and causing annoyance, but please consider reblogging if you found this useful. We need to spread the word about standardizing our methods and tags! Thank you!):

@the-7-percent-solution, @whimsicalethnographies @teapotsubtext, @ti-ori-se @jenna221b, @inevitably-johnlocked @marcelock @tjlc @tjlcisthenewsexy, @mrsashdown, @materialofonebeing @joolabee, @toxicsemicolon, 

[autumn-grace]

A Life Measured out in Coffee Spoons. (6/?)

Disclaimer: I rearranged the words of the great T.S. Eliot for this title, as I have borrowed some lines of the same poem: “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” to introduce the sentiment of this story. It might just be one of my favorite poems of all time. Also I took the liberty of using the characters of the BBC Sherlock to work through some feelings.  

#sherlolly  #angst  #sherlollyparents  #cancer #well…I might add to that later

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,

Ao3 Link

---

6. December 24, 2022 (the night)

Molly crawled into bed exhausted. There was nothing more tiring than fresh county air on the first day out of the city, when pregnant on Christmas Eve. Nothing. So her eyes were closed even before her head hit the pillow. Sherlock's hand found its way into her hair, starting to rubbing her scalp, she was instantly asleep. She wanted to wish him a good night and tell him that she loved him, it was her last conscious thought.  

It was from this deep slumber that she was cruelly, but unintentionally woken up by an elbow in her ribs. She groaned, turned onto the side and opened her eyes where a pair of brown ones watched her in the dark of the room.

“Sorry Mummy. I didn't want to wake you.” Henry, in company of his duvet and his yellow catlike plushy, had found their way into the bed.

“It's all right. Try to sleep.” She looked over to Sherlock, who was silently watching. He didn't look a bit as if he'd had any sleep at all so far.

“He has been here twice to check if it is already morning.” Sherlock explained. It was the same every year, so the circumstance that he'd send him back twice before making a deal with the boy that if he could stay here with them, he would sleep for another couple of hours, because that made asking for the time easier, was implicit.

“I can't sleep. I am soo nervous!” Molly silently and shortly laughed and lifted her hand from under her duvet and ruffled her son's hair.

“Can we sing a song?”

“What would you like to sing?” For all the tiredness and the need to go back to sleep herself, she knew that singing would send Henry right back to the land of exiting Christmas dreams.

“The song that grandpa sung along to in the kitchen when we had to go to bed and he was drying the dishes?” Molly needed to think, it must surely have been a Christmas song, there was no memory of anything other than Christmas songs being played all evening. She looked over to Sherlock who had his eyebrows pulled high and his shoulders signified that he had no idea.

“It was about a kaleidoscope, we have one in school!“ In that moment, Molly understood two thing: Singing with him was not in the game tonight, he wanted to be sang at, and second, if they didn't act soon, he would be wide awake talking about kaleidoscopes.

Sherlock, already with his telephone at hand was reading something or other before he started singing 'Can you feel the love tonight' by Elton John. It was hard not to laugh and it wasn't completely evitable, not after Henry clapped his hands once in excitement. However, she quickly caught his hands to prevent him from continuing. Sherlock, instinctively did the same. Otherwise, there would be two wildly awake children at half one in the morning.

(Both adults quickly looked down to their feet where Sophie was sleeping in a cot. Oblivious to the turmoils of the night, as she usually was. She, like her mother, was a deep sleeper and in edition she had two older and always load siblings.)

When the girl didn't even stir, Sherlock continued singing and despite the comedic undertone of the situation, as that kind of music wasn't the usual choice, Molly was able to join his lead, without him she wouldn't have been able to come up with any lyrics. Ultimately, it was during the second repetition that he had fallen asleep, holding the hands of both his parents.

Together, they were silent for a while after they had stopped.

“Have you had any sleep yet?” Molly asked after a while longer, suddenly too awake to easily fall back under. Sherlock shook his head. He didn't speak, but Molly felt that it was not due to the lack of reason but rather for the lack of words.

A lot has changed during the years. His improved ability to consider his words before he spoke them was one of them. In this situation however, Molly wished he wouldn't. She wished he was blunt again, and direct and inconsiderate of her feelings and emotions, of her reactions and opinions. But he wasn't and it was lovely most of the time, however right now it was important he talked to her freely, uncensored and directly.

It was one of the reason why back in November, he had this urge to run away from Molly, because he felt all that anger and fear had accumulated into an overload of emotions, which he didn't know how to handle. But knowing that shutting himself down was a direct lane to becoming the man he had decided he never wanted to be again after having acknowledged that what he felt for Molly was more than friendship, more than a childish infatuation. It had been love. It was still love. And he was sure that it would never be anything but.

When he moved to put his telephone back into charge, Molly decided to make it easier for him and give him some more time by blubbering away herself.

“Violet was so surprised about the baby. I was sure she knew the moment we walked in... Like the last three times.”

“Yeah... well despite all her hopes and her believe into the well and good, she had given up any hope for grandchildren years ago. Now she will have four. She barely dared to speak her suspicion two years ago... ” He paused and looked directly into her eyes, then he let go of Henry's hand and reached over him and pushed his hand under her duvet and under her pyjama top onto her still relatively small bump, but evident non the less and it was growing and there  was  another child on its way.

“She's asleep.” He observed after a long while of caressing her skin. She nodded. She thought about addressing the pronoun, but didn't. It was a discussion for another time.

“Would you allow me to speak hypothetically?”

Molly had an idea where this was leading. She nodded, now reaching for his hand, intertwining their fingers.

“I will write it down in addition... Mary suggested to make videos... she apparently did that just in case... but I need you to know just the same, right now.” Again he paused. Molly waited. Now sure about what was to come.

“If she ever doubts my love for her, based on the fact that I never got to meet her, tell her of this moment, will you? Tell her, that right now she is as real to me and to my heart as the other three.”

Both nodded at each other.

“In this moment, it eats away on my sanity. She is still barely a thing and I am missing her in reveres. I am missing her, Molly. And it frightens me. I am so afraid right now.”

Molly started shaking, not with tears but with emotions. Their hands suddenly holding on to each other for dear life. The next words however completely sobered her up.

“There is a neurosurgeon from New York, he wants to make his own tests shortly after new years to confirm a operation date within the next ten days.”

“What?” The word slipped out, softly and missing its last hard consonant, Molly pushed herself up into a sitting position, looking down past her sleeping son and into her husbands face, who was looking straight up at the ceiling.

“But that's not the plan.”

“It's a better plan.”

“No! It is not. Within the next ten days? Ten days?!”

“Mycroft promises he is the best in his field...”    

“You are the best in your field and you make mistakes!” “I am also the only person in my field.”

“Sherlock!” Molly angrily whispered, afraid to her bones. There was a countdown where before had only been hope.

They battled the silence of the room, battled each others need to be right and each others fear to be wrong. And then Molly saw the glitter of unshed tears in his eyes and the force of his jawline to stay locked, his left fist closed and the first tremor in his shoulders, the attempt to swallow away the pain in his throat.  

And Molly didn't know what to do except to climb carefully over both Henry and Sherlock, who now was shaking his head in an attempt to keep his wife on her side of the bed to not make this whole ordeal even worse. But then she slipped into that small space between the wall and him and she engulfed him in her arms and in her legs and her hair and the bump pressed into his side - against his stomach when he finally turned towards her.

He shock through silent tear, for minutes and minutes. He shock until he felt like vomiting and screaming and then all the way into exhaustion and muscle pain and dizziness.

When he woke hours later there was another two children stuffed into the bed and they where all together waiting for the morning to come.

[fanpilgrimageproject-blog]

Departing Now from Platform 9 3/4: Harry Potter Movie Fan Pilgrimages

The following was delivered in March 2018 at the Popular Culture Association National Conference. I’m posting it here to give a sense of my investment in this research project and how I use concepts like pilgrimage and sacredness in the context of fandom. Text and photos © 2018 J. Caroline Toy. All rights reserved. 

Abstract:  Harry Potter movie attractions are complex places that integrate money-making businesses and fan participation (ritual and original). There is a tendency to assume that commercialized destinations are somehow less “authentic” or sacred than traditional pilgrimages. However, while degrees of commercialization affect visitors’ experiences, this dichotomy is a false one. I argue that even sites that are heavily mediated--shaped by official signage, layout, or websites--still have qualities of the sacred about them. Major British Harry Potter destinations like the Warner Bros. Studio Tour, Platform 9 3⁄4 at King’s Cross Station, and the Great Hall of Christchurch College are no exception. Reflecting on fieldwork conducted in 2015 and 2017, as well as earlier personal visits, I explore the intended visitor experience and significance of these sites. Like other fan pilgrimages, they rely on the interpretive choices and activities of fans to become (for some) sacred points of contact with imagined worlds and film production, as well as focal points of fannishness. 

When I first visited the Warner Bros Studio Tour in 2014—and when I first saw the line of Harry Potter fans waiting to get into Christchurch College Oxford in 2012 and decided not to visit—it never occurred to me that I would end up writing about those visits in any form but a facebook post or a blog entry. Likewise, when I first went on a journey that pretty much everyone can agree to call a pilgrimage—walking the Camino de Santiago in Spain—I had no idea that that experience would collide with my identity as a fan and my background in religious studies. But they did, and here I am. So today I’m going to talk about fan pilgrimage—my area of research—and specifically pilgrimage places related to Harry Potter that I visited before and since re-entering graduate school. I draw on both the connections between my experiences as a fan and as a peregrina (or Santiago pilgrim) that initially led me to this research, and studies of fan pilgrimage that may be familiar to this audience.

I will explore how different HP destinations with different degrees of commercialization can be seen as sacred. Referring to fieldwork conducted in 2015 and 2017, I discuss several places in the United Kingdom—the Warner Bros Studio Tour, Platform 9 ¾ at King’s Cross Station, and two sites in Oxford--that I approach as pilgrimage sites. I argue that these HP sites contain the same types of complex relationships between ritual, narrative, geography, and commerce that historically religious pilgrimage sites do. They are made sacred by special status granted them not only by owners, but by fans’ choices and agency.

It was an accident that I first visited the Warner Bros Studio Tour and undertook pilgrimage to Santiago on the same extended trip in 2014--but perhaps no accident that this happened as I was transitioning out of a career in wilderness education and into a graduate program in which I would focus on (I thought) religion in science fiction, and/or fanfiction. As it turned out, what I did in the interim both changed my research and colored my perspective on what pilgrimage is, regardless of its association with religious tradition. I’m relating this experience partly because it is a common one, as we all know, in fan studies, and it is also common in pilgrimage studies: the position of scholar is also that of pilgrim, and the experiences themselves and intellectual approaches are deeply intertwined. Thus I come to the approach I’m using in this paper both through personal experience and the way in which I’ve narrativized my pilgrimages to myself, and through theorizations of pilgrimage that recognize its entwinement with tourism and the porousness of the category.

But why “pilgrimage” and not “tourism” when we talk about fans going to places of narrative, production, or celebrity significance? I use the term with full acknowledgement that it is a sub-category of tourism, and one that some scholars working on what they prefer to call “media tourism” reject. But in turn, I reject the notion that some supposed sacred/secular divide should be at the heart of how we define and distinguish pilgrimage--especially because of the difficulty of defining religion and spirituality. Scholars of pilgrimage Eade and Sallnow (1991) acknowledge that one of the primary inspirations of pilgrimage is narrative (religious or not); Alan Morinis (1992) also argues it may also be motivated by a host of emotional, religious, narrative, or socially obligatory forces in a pilgrim’s life. According to Avril Maddrell, Alan Terry, and Tim Gale (2016) a pilgrim may move in and out of “pilgrim” versus “tourist” roles during their journey, underscoring that the sacredness of pilgrimage is dependent on affect and agency. These perspectives are not only intellectually sound, but also in line with my own experiences and people I’ve observed at the sites I’m discussing today.

One of the problems, however, in using a category whose distinction from tourism is so hotly debated is that it tends to suggest a greater degree of authenticity in pilgrim experiences--especially religious ones--than in tourist experiences. Debates about what (if anything) constitutes authenticity in tourism must also be brought to bear on pilgrimages, particularly pilgrimages that are already based on fiction and often structured by commercial interests. Even in studies of fan pilgrimage, it is much easier to recognize the pilgrimage-like characteristics of journeys to fan-created or historical shrines--the shrine to Sherlock at St Bartholomew’s Hospital, Elvis’s Graceland (Alderman 2002; Doss 1991), or the memorial to Torchwood’s Ianto Jones in Cardiff--than it is to see pilgrimage in a place like the Warner Bros Studio Tour.

Fortunately recent studies of both tourism and pilgrimage have successfully upended this type of distinction. Folklorist Michael Dylan Foster (2013), writing of cultural tourists visiting a Japanese namahage festival, writes that tourists seek out not an authentic cultural encounter but the “authentic inauthenticity” of the tourist experience. Elsewhere such visitors are referred to as “post-tourists”, who actively seek out inauthentic encounters. It might seem logical, then, to explore fan pilgrims as “post-pilgrims”, but in fact, as Ian Reader (2014) shows through religious pilgrimages in Japan, pilgrimage has never existed--indeed cannot come to exist--without supposedly inauthentic mediations, commercial ventures, and a prioritization of performing pilgrimage over the supposedly inherent sacredness of the site itself.

This is not to say that a pilgrim going to Santiago, for example, could not truly believe the bones of Saint James lie beneath the altar and visiting them can create religious merit or even miracles. Rather, it suggests that, just as the Santiago pilgrimage has always been a product of careful marketing (even as early as the 12th century!), fundraising, and ritual performances, pilgrimage is defined not by purity but by the significances that both pilgrims and institutions attach to it, and what they make of it. Therefore I use the term pilgrimage not because it implies authenticity or superiority in certain types of fan experiences, but because it indicates a journey or site that involves ritual, narrative, special geography, and commerce together, as defined by both the site and its normative practices, and the motivations and actions of individual visitors. It suggests not impurity of sites like the WBST, but ways of exploring how sacredness may be created by fans and producers in the most commercial of places.

So for today, I am more interested in mediated sites than in fan-created ones. The Warner Bros Studio Tour, arguably the crown jewel of quote-unquote geographically authentic Harry Potter movie sites, is the most carefully constructed, blending specific imagined and real geographies, encounters with narrative, reenactments and rituals, and commerce to coach a certain type of visitor engagement. (I reiterate--this is not a bad or inauthentic thing.) The visitor begins with a film message from the cast, visits the set of Hogwarts’ Great Hall, and proceeds through a vast space of prop displays, set reconstructions, and behind-the-scenes information, often blended together. Near the Gryffindor common room--complete with Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s costumes displayed to evoke their presence, a flight of Hogwarts’ moving stairs is displayed in a way that highlights the green surfaces used to enable digital manipulation of the filmed image. A reconstruction of the Forbidden Forest (complete with Aragog) is intended to be so realistic there are warning signs and a bypass for people who, like Ron Weasley, are afraid of spiders. But the same space includes an explanation of how an Irish wolfhound stood in for Harry’s patronus during filming. The Hogwarts Express area includes both a recreated filming set (with lighting and cameras) and the more immersive experience of walking through the train--both facing a special Hogwarts Express gift shop. 

[Image: Three visitors with their backs to the camera examine the filming set for the Hogwarts Express train. Beyond them, lighting and camera equipment is visible. The set, consisting of door-less compartments with blue seats and green-screen windows, is seen in the background.]

Near the end of the tour, fans visit the enormous scale model of Hogwarts castle used in filming, with videos available that document the model’s construction. A viewing point from the boathouse allows fans to look up at the bulk of the castle, exaggerating its size and evoking awe that encompasses both the level of detail and the experience of first-year students gazing up from their boat ride across the lake.

[Image: The Warner Bros. Studio Tour’s large scale model of Hogwarts School under blue-toned light simulating dusk. The greenhouses are in front, with the Great Hall on the far left.]

In these cases and others, production fakery and the “reality” of the story-world are presented side-by-side. Visitors are immersed in both the real-world history and fictional narrative of the Harry Potter films where the two intersected during studio filming. I have argued elsewhere (Toy 2018) regarding the Sherlock shrine at St. Bart’s Hospital that this peeking behind the curtain is not a matter of distinguishing fiction and reality, as some media tourism scholars have argued, but an opportunity to activate the entanglement of story, production, and fan experience. As such, this highly mediated site is a sacred place in the sense of religious studies scholar JZ Smith’s (1982) “focusing lens”, at which special designation and construction of a place by individuals and institutions highlights intersections of the ordinary and an extraordinary mythos. Collective rituals like entering the Great Hall together, always surrounded by gasps of excitement and amazement, enhance this experience of set-apart-ness. What’s particularly interesting here is that the exhibit is designed to do this--allow the visitor to trouble the distinction between the imagined and the real--but the experience depends on fans’ imaginative and emotional engagement. One chooses, after all, to stare up at Hogwarts from the point of view of an “ickle firstie”. To a more casual fan--and the intended audience includes many of these--the Warner Bros Studio Tour is interesting, but does not automatically create a sense in the visitor of direct encounter with Harry’s world. That depends on us.

[Image: Under a sign reading “Platform 9 3/4, a man and woman wearing Hogwarts scarves pretend to push a half luggage trolley mounted on the wall. In the foreground, a uniformed photograph takes their picture while other visitors wait in line.]

Platform 9 ¾--the Harry Potter destination in the middle of the real King’s Cross Station in London--is not as thoroughly designed to create an extraordinary experience. The site consists of half a luggage trolley attached to the wall, a long queue of people waiting to be photographed “pushing” it (complete with professional photographers and aides who toss one’s borrowed Hogwarts scarf to create an illusion of motion), and, of course, a gift shop. (I’m going to come back to gift shops in general later.) It is not intended to produce the kind of self-contained immersive experience or sense of geographic exactness that the Studio Tour does. It’s worth noting here that the King’s Cross scenes were filmed between platforms 4 and 5, not in the main hall where the trolley is located today--but that area is not accessible without a ticket on a train using those platforms. Visitors are constantly confronted with both the banality of the Muggle train station and the staged nature of the attraction--and indeed, the lack of immersion may make it less powerful for some (which was my first experience with the site). And yet, it is enormously popular--and perhaps telling that while we don’t enter Harry’s world at Platform 9 ¾ the way he himself does, we can stand on the cusp of it, tangent to the Hogwarts Express--and photographically document our proximity.

Of the examples I’m discussing today, filming locations at Christchurch College and the Bodleian Library in Oxford are arguably the least mediated. At Christchurch, model for Hogwarts’ Great Hall, there is almost no signage or acknowledgment on site--though there may have been more in the past when the films were still newly released. 

[Image: the Great Hall of Christchurch College at Oxford, a large room with three long tables extending away from the camera toward a raised dais at the far end. Lower walls are wood-paneled with many closely hung historic paintings. Upper walls are arched leaded glass windows. The tables are set for a formal dinner. This room was the model for Hogwarts’ Great Hall.]

I observed this past summer that visitors obviously coming to see Potter sites were far fewer than the line of families with excited children I saw there in 2012. But interestingly, Christchurch has long been a site of religious pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Frideswide, patron of Oxford University, so it may be no accident that the university treats pilgrims of all kinds with nonchalance as long as they do not disrupt the College (although they are happy to take your £10 in any case). The Divinity School at Oxford’s Bodleian Library--site of the Hogwarts infirmary and dueling practice--has somewhat more interpretive material, including stills from the films that clearly show the Divinity School’s distinctive architecture and the layout of Duke Humphries’ Library, aka the Hogwarts library. Some of these details are also related by tour guides. As at Christchurch, there is no obvious line of Potter fans waiting to get in--but nonetheless, the site quietly attracts them.

[Image: View of the Divinity School at Oxford University, a long room with a carved medieval Gothic vaulted stone ceiling, large arched windows, and flagstone floor. Several tourists sit on wooden benches around the edges of the room.]

[Image: A clear plastic panel sitting on a stone ledge holds six film stills from the Harry Potter films, including dueling practice, Harry and Hermione in the Library, Harry and Dumbledore in the Infirmary, and dancing practice for the Yule Ball. The panel also reflects the surrounding windows and floor of the Divinity School.]

In these three examples, we see a sort of sliding scale of mediation that both shapes the boundaries of what visitors can do and enables certain types of individual affective experiences. This mediation takes the form of displays--carefully constructed or simple--videos, audio tours, live guides, photography, restrictions on access, and managed activities. Such strategies facilitate commercial interests (both moneymaking and marketing), but clearly do not create homogeneous experiences. They do create boundaries around acceptable or normative fan pilgrimage experiences--a topic I cannot fully explore here--but this itself is in keeping with pilgrimage experiences across contexts, especially in heavily visited places. Fans, like many other pilgrims, generally go along with such restrictions--but that doesn’t mean they don’t inflect sites with their own experiences. Furthermore, through reviews and photos posted online, they re-mediate these sites for fellow and future visitors, in ways that may or may not concur with the goals of owners.

I want to end by turning to the gap I’ve left in these examples: “stuff”, by which I mean merchandise, souvenir photos and videos, themed food and drinks, and so on. “Stuff” at fan pilgrimage sites deserves its own paper, so I raise these points more as provocations for future work than a way of wrapping up. Though it often seems to be taken as an impurity by onlookers, pilgrimages are rich with material goods and gift shops. (In fact, on my desk I keep a minifig of the Eleventh Doctor acquired on my first visit to Forbidden Planet in London next to an image of St. James the Pilgrim purchased in Santiago--the patron saints of my research.) This stuff does more than make money for Warner Bros. or restrict the way fans view the material culture of Harry’s world. According to Susan Stewart, souvenirs "authenticate a past or otherwise remote experience and, at the same time...discredit the present" (139)--that is, once the pilgrim goes home, merchandise in a sense makes the pilgrimage real, even more real than “the real”. Souvenirs render the narrative of pilgrimage a part of personal mythos rather than simply a trip. In fact, gift shops--which in the Potter pilgrimages cited carry site-specific goods--may make the pilgrim’s experience more real, more sacred, in retrospect. These souvenirs authenticate and mythologize a specific journey and moment of intersection between fan and narrative. While fan pilgrimages may begin at the ticket desk, their endings are ambiguous and worthy of deeper study.

[Image: A gift shop display of brightly colored Harry Potter merchandise at Christchurch, including mugs, house-themed journals, phone cases, and Hedwig plushes.]

 Works Consulted

Alderman, Derek H. 2002. “Writing on the Graceland Wall: On the Importance of Authorship in Pilgrimage Landscapes.” Tourism Recreation Research 27 (2): 27–33.

Bendix, Regina. 1989. “Tourism and Cultural Displays: Inventing Traditions for Whom?” The Journal of American Folklore 102 (404): 131–46.

Brooker, Will. 2007a. “A Sort of Homecoming: Fan Viewing and Symbolic Pilgrimage.” In Fandom: Identities and Communities in a Mediated World, edited by Jonathan Gray, Cornel Sandvoss, and C. Lee Harrington, 149–64. New York, U.S.: New York University Press.

———. 2007b. ��Everywhere and Nowhere: Vancouver, Fan Pilgrimage and the Urban Imaginary.” International Journal of Cultural Studies 10 (4): 423–444.

Coleman, Simon, and John Eade, eds. 2004. Reframing Pilgrimage: Cultures in Motion. European Association of Social Anthropologists. London: Routledge.

Doss, Erika. 1999. Elvis Culture: Fans, Faith, and Image. Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas.

Eade, John, and Michael J. Sallnow. 1991. “Introduction.” In Contesting the Sacred: The Anthropology of Christian Pilgrimage, edited by John Eade and Michael J. Sallnow, 1–29. London and New York: Routledge.

Eliade, Mircea. 1959. The Sacred and the Profane. Translated by Willard R. Trask. San Diego: Harcourt, Inc.

Foster, Michael Dylan. 2013. “Inviting the Uninvited Guest: Ritual, Festival, Tourism, and the Namahage of Japan.” Journal of American Folklore 126 (501): 302–34.

Hills, Matt. 2002. Fan Cultures. Sussex Studies in Culture and Communication. New York: Routledge.

Lee, Christina. 2012. “‘Have Magic, Will Travel’: Tourism and Harry Potter’s United (Magical) Kingdom.” Tourist Studies 12 (1): 52–69.

MacCannell, Dean. 1976. The Tourist: A New Theory of the Leisure Class. New York: Schocken Books.

Maddrell, Avril, Alan Terry, and Tim Gale, eds. 2016. Sacred Mobilities: Journeys of Belief and Belonging. London and New York: Routledge.

Morinis, Alan. 1992. “Introduction: The Territory of the Anthropology of Pilgrimage.” In Sacred Journeys: The Anthropology of Pilgrimage, edited by Alan Morinis, 1–28. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press.

Reader, Ian. 2014. Pilgrimage in the Marketplace. Routledge Studies in Religion, Travel, and Tourism 2. New York: Routledge.

Reijnders, Stijn. 2011. Places of the Imagination: Media, Tourism, Culture. Franham, Surrey, UK: Ashgate.

Smith, Jonathan Z. 1982. “The Bare Facts of Ritual.” In Imagining Religion: From Babylon to Jonestown, 53–65. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Stewart, Susan. 1993. On Longing: Narratives of the Miniature, the Gigantic, the Souvenir, the Collection. Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press.

Toy, J. Caroline. 2017. “Constructing the Fannish Place: Ritual and Sacred Space in a Sherlock Fan Pilgrimage.” Journal of Fandom Studies 5 (3): 251–66.

Urry, John, and Jonas Larsen. 2011. The Tourist Gaze 3.0. 3rd ed. London: SAGE Publications. See also: 

Larsen, Katherine. 2015. “(Re)claiming Harry Potter Fan Pilgrimage Sites.” In Playing Harry Potter: Essays and Interviews on Fandom and Performance, 38-54. Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland and Co.

Potts, Liza, Melissa Beattie, Emily Dallaire, Katie Grimes, and Kelly Turner. 2018. Participatory Memory: Fandom Experiences Across Time and Space. Intermezzo. http://participatorymemory.org/book/index

[its-btrz-blog]

A-Z Book Recommendations

@macrolit, a blog I love (all those lovely classics and those gorgeous editions) made this challenge and I decided to try it too! :p

A - The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, by Arthur Conan Doyle - Who can resist a Sherlock Holmes story? They manage to be surprising and clever and make for a very interesting read. I’m collecting all the books and at the moment there’s only one left for me to find. A recommendation for everyone.

B - The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak - I think it’s a must for book lovers, specially for anyone who likes historical fiction set in WWII. I loved the writing style and became absorbed in the story.

C - The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas - Read for the first time many years ago, but this story of injustice and revenge remains one of my favorites.

D - Daughter of the Blood, by Anne Bishop - It’s the first book on one of my favorite fantasy series (I’ll call it a trilogy, since I recently found out the remaining books and I like to forget the sequels to the original three exist). She created an intricate society in this fictional universe, with complex power and etiquette protocols, and lovable main characters. I’ve re-read it many times.

E - Emma, by Jaune Austen - Pride and Prejudice is the most famous (and I love it too), but this is my favorite Austen book. Funny, with a flawed protagonist you end up liking all the same, and a great romance. The best part: she’s not interested in marrying, but in in finding marriages for others, and when she finds love, it’s based on a good existing friendship.

F - The Fellowship of the Ring, by J. R. R. Tolkien - Well, I know this is a hard one to read (along with the rest of The Lord of The Rings), I suffered too, but it’s one of the things that made me love fantasy as much as I do. This universe he created, it’s so real, you feel you could live in it too.

G - The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson - A thriller/mystery, with a wonderfully strong and complex heroine. I recommend the whole trilogy to anyone (forget the ones after that, by another author).

H - Human Acts, by Han Kang - I’m not sure how to express exactly how much this book moved me, so I’ll just say it’s an historical fiction book on the horrors experienced on a South Korean popular uprising at the end of the 20th century. I think it’s a very powerful story.

I - Interview with the Vampire, by Anne Rice - Well, seeing how I love fantasy (and paranormal) this book couldn’t be missing here. The first of the Vampire Chronicles, it’s also the best, with beautiful descriptions and scenarios and with one of the most iconic vampires in fiction as main character.

J - Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Brontë - One of my favorite books. I remember the first time I borrowed it from the library, I didn’t return it until I had read it twice in a row. A classic about a woman who, despite her feelings, remains true to her principles.

K - Kafka on the Shore, by Haruki Murakami - My first Murakami book. Since then I’ve read and enjoyed many others, but this one remains special. I can’t say much about it. It’s magical realism, and I think until you’ve read one of his books you can’t really decide if it’s for you or not. Whenever I read something from him, I’m always invaded by a sense of peace, that helps me absorb what I’m reading.

L - The Lady of the Camelias, by Alexandre Dumas, son - It’s a well loved classic for me, and it’s a tragic story of a famous courtesan and her love for someone below her on the social and economical scale.

M - Les Misérables, by Victor Hugo - It’s been almost one year and I’m still unsure of my love/hate relationship with this book. I love the characters, the story they allow to tell, and the social critic present. However, I hate knowing about Paris’ sewers, the whole history of the Battle of Waterloo, convents in Paris and the life story (and financial and domestic arrangements) of a character who will then be present for a very small fraction of the book. I’ve since been told there’s an abridged version.

N - The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket, by Edgar Allan Poe - My first Poe book, a good adventure story with a mix of horror in it.

O - Oliver Twist, by Charles Dickens - My first and favorite Dickens book (until now, I still have several to read), this story always moved me with its portrayal of innocence and social injustice. I also think it has the best characters he has written (sometimes they tend to be reduced to quirks).

P - Persuasion, by Jane Austen - OK, another one by Austen, but this was her first book I read, and along with Emma is one of my favorites, and it’s not as well known. It’s a love story, yes, but more than that it’s about a woman finally freeing herself from social pressure and her family’s expectations to make the decisions she really wants for herself.

Q - The Queen of Spades, by Alexander Pushkin - Got it from a pocket book collection purchased with the newspaper, many years ago. It’s a very short and delightful read , with some lovely social commentary too.

R - Red Dragon, by Thomas Harris - The Hannibal books are fascinating to me and good horror/thrillers for anyone who liked the genre. This is the first one, introducing the famous cannibal and Will Graham, the FBI agent (and inspiration for the TV show Hannibal)

S - The Shadow of the Wind, by Carlos Ruíz Zafón - The first book in a series of four (The Cemetery of Forgotten Books), set in Barcelona around the time of the Civil War. It’s a good series with memorable characters that seems like an ode to literature and book lovers.

T - Treasure Island, by Robert Louis Stevenson - A classic pirate story, on which many pirate stories are nowadays based! I love pirates, so this had to be here.

U - Hmm, I have read four books beginning with U, but none I would recommend :(

V - Vanity Fair, by William Makepeace Thackeray - A classic about a woman who manipulates everyone around her for her own gain: rise in social status and acquiring wealth.

W - We Have Always Lived in The Castle, by Shirley Jackson - Read recently, and I couldn’t help but love this gothic classic.

X - Nothing here.

Y - The Yellow Wallpaper, by Charlotte Perkins Gilman - A short story that shows the unfair treatment of women concerning mental health.

Z - Sorry, another blank one.

[janeofcakes]

Chapter 95

**Bonus chapter!!**

(All on eyes are on Sherlock.)

SD: What the hell?

SP: Be careful, Mr. Holmes. Be very careful.

(Her face is a mask of fury and danger. The look in her eyes would melt a normal human being, but Sherlock has never been normal. John steps closer to her and very slightly in between the woman and the detective. Sherlock stands before the accused.)

S: Your offices, Gorgio’s, and this building are each thirty minutes apart by cab, but only ten walking.

SP: (with a sharp laugh) Ten minutes! For who? A sprinter?

S: Hardly. If you know the right routes, the right paths, and you looked into that very carefully. The walk from your offices to this building and from here to Gorgio’s each had to be ten minutes. You called your meeting off around 6:20 just to make sure you would have twenty to kill your husband. You knew his secretary would have certainly left by 6:30. She told us that Piper always made sure she stayed no later than six and, with nearly everyone else gone home, it was easy for you to walk in and get in the private elevator unobserved.

(Sylvia Piper curls her lip and looks ready to pounce on Sherlock, but she lets him continue without interruption. John’s senses are tingling.)

S: You either found Piper in the freezer or made him go in and shot him. No mess and plenty of time to get to Gorgio’s. Just close the door and leave. The freezer obscures the time of death and makes it look like he could have died nearly anytime last night instead of as soon as you left your offices.

(Feeling the tension rise, Sally shifts closer to Piper and casts warning eyes at the two men.)

SD: Sherlock.

(Piper is smiling now. She looks at Sherlock with confidence, like she owns the world.)

SP: (loudly and with relish) Mr. Holmes. Why. In the hell. Would I kill my husband?

(He fixes her with his intense silver eyes.)

S: Simple, Mrs. Piper. Your children. (John’s heart skips a beat when Piper’s eyes flash red.) You vividly demonstrated your protective nature when I accused your son and clearly intend to participate in your daughter’s wedding. When is it again? Later this month? You were going to disappear with your husband in mere days and yet, you went to a dress fitting this morning before the police informed you that your husband was dead. You knew your husband was going to die before the wedding so, despite your departure having been planned for weeks, you never bothered to cancel the fitting. Or any other fitting.

(Sylvia Piper has stopped smiling and Sally is beginning to agree with the detective.)

S: And then there’s the burn on your wrist. The burn that our good doctor noticed.

(John’s eyes widen as what he noticed right off, and more or less ignored, suddenly clicks into place. His gaze goes to Piper’s wrist and then up to her face.)

J: It’s a freezer burn.

(The large room fills with an uneasy silence.)

S: A freezer burn. You bumped into something in the freezer. I’m guessing a shelf, based upon its shape and size. In any case, it seals your fate.

(Piper stares at Sherlock with furious daggers. She looks as though she wants to lash out and wrap her fingers around his neck, but also seems to know there is no point in doing so.)

SP: I have never been involved in Alan’s illegal business. For years, I ignored it and continued to as he built his mafia empire when we came to London. I finally chose to rail against it as the risks became undoubtedly more dangerous. He ignored me. And then he tells me that WE have to leave forever. He didn’t care about Julia’s wedding. She is the child of my first marriage. Alan was just happy to have Joel take over his legacy and didn’t care if he never saw his own son again. But my children are everything to me and they were to disappear from my life because communicating with us would give away Alan’s location. (She shakes her head.) No. I won’t give them up. Not for anything. Yes, I killed my husband, Mr. Holmes, and I’m not sorry.

(After a moment, Sally lightly touches the woman’s arm.)

SD: If you’ll come with me, Mrs. Piper. I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Alan Piper.

SP: Of course.

(Sally cuffs Piper and reads her rights as she leads her away. Sherlock and John watch until the two women are out the door. John lets out a long breath and scrubs his hands through his hair.)

J: God, that was refreshing. Seems like forever since we could just work a case. No danger, no risks, no hospital. Just an honest case.

S: Donovan shouldn’t need us for the report. She was right here the whole time.

J: (brows raised) I wouldn’t say that, but I’m sure she won’t really expect us at the Yard until tomorrow. Do you have something in mind?

S: I have some things to do this afternoon, but I thought dinner at Angelo’s around seven?

J: (a corner of his mouth quirking upward) Sounds wonderful.

*                        *                        *                         *

(Among other things, Sherlock pays a visit to Mycroft before going to dinner with John. He strides into his brother’s office and sits. Mycroft looks up from a file he is reading and raises a sarcastic eyebrow.)

S: New carpet.

M: Well, after getting so much blood on the last one…

S: Indeed. Unfortunate business.

M: (with an impatient smile) To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, brother mine?

A: How is Molly? (Mycroft looks at him blankly.) I haven’t been to Bart’s in some time.

M: Ah. (a long puase while he lays the file on the desk) She’s good. Perfect, in fact.

S: Good, good. (He shifts in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the line of conversation. Mycroft sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.)

M: Sherlock, what do you want?

S: Are you happy? The two of you?

(Mycroft’s eyes widen as he hears his younger brother’s questions. He knows the curiosity is not so much about his and Molly’s happiness as it is how he feels about what Sherlock has identified as diminished mental capacity.)

M: I am the same as I ever was, Sherlock. My sharpness has not changed. (He pauses as his brother frowns.) I make different decisions now and someday when Molly and I are parents, (Sherlock’s jaw drops) my decisions will change again. I don’t regret loving Molly and I never will. Do you honestly believe you will ever regret your feelings for John?

S: (without hesitation) No.

(A moment of silence follows. Mycroft straightens his spine and leans forward to meet Sherlock’s eyes with an almost dangerous sincerity.)

M: If you repeat this, I will deny it and make your life a living hell.

S: And that is different from now in what way?

M: (sighing) I was…wrong about sentiment. (Sherlock blinks very slowly and briefly wonders if he hit his head on something.) It certainly cannot rule over logic, but…there is a place for it. It will make you stronger, Sherlock. John has made you stronger. (He sighs again.) He always will.

(The two men study one another. A sense of ease passes between them and a truce is struck without words. Sherlock’s mouth quirks into a small smile. He rises from his chair and turns to leave.)

S: I know.

*                 *                    *                        *

(Sherlock and John share a spectacular meal at Angelo’s. John tucks into his favorite of prawn linguine and Sherlock actually eats all of his veal parmigiana. Angelo insists on a candle for added romance, as usual, and brings them a bottle of John’s favorite wine.

The two men laugh and talk and remember past cases. Neither one wants the evening to end, so John concedes quickly when Sherlock suggests they share dessert. However, the atmosphere changes as they eat a tiramisu. John grows thoughtful and quiet, not laughing as easily when Sherlock makes jokes or tells amusing stories. When only a portion of John’s half of the dessert remains, Sherlock places his fork next to the dessert plate and leans forward with his elbows on the table.)

S: What’s troubling you, John?

J: Hm? Oh, I was just thinking about the case. Sylvia Piper and her children. They really were the center of her world.

S: Indeed. Worth killing for.

J: Right. (putting down his own fork and looking at his flatmate with a hesitant expression) Do you think you’ll ever feel that way? I mean, not… I mean, do you have any interest in being a father? (Sherlock opens his mouth, but John quickly cuts him off.) Not right now, obviously. There’s so much…but one day.

(Sherlock covers John’s hand where it lays on the table and gives it an affectionate squeeze.)

S: Of course. I would love to raise a child with you. (John’s eyes widen.) One day.

J: Me? (He jerks his hand away and straightens his spine, jaw clenching.)

S: (hesitantly) I thought such a plan would be to your liking. Am I wrong?

J: (angrily) It’s just an odd statement coming from a man who doesn’t want his relationship to evolve.

(Sherlock presses his lips together in a straight line. His mind quickly processes in search of the best way to express himself. This dinner is so much more than his proposal. He must undo the damage he has done with his foolishness before he can get to that. He knew he had hurt John terribly. His perpetual sadness attests to that, but Sherlock hadn’t a taste of John’s anger until now.)

S: I’m sorry I have hurt you.

J: (quickly) I know that, Sherlock. I just…I can’t…

(His eyes clamp shut as if in physical pain. He curls his lips inward.)

S: John…

(Sherlock begins, but is silenced when John’s hands are suddenly on the table, his eyes open. John begins to stand. Sherlock doesn’t know what he should say, but he knows what he wants to say and he must say it now before John turns and walks out of the restaurant.

He leaps to his feet and wraps his fingers around the smaller man’s arms. Both speak at the same time.)

J: I have to leave.

S: Don’t go.

(John’s furious and hurt eyes raise up to Sherlock’s face and see that he is pleading like never before.)

S: Please, John, just let me explain.

(Fuming and heartbroken, but unable to deny this man anything, John gets his arms free and sits again. He stares down at the table, his forearms folded on it in front of his body. Sherlock licks his lips and seats himself. He is leaning forward, elbows on the table so he can gesture with his hands. He takes in a deep breath and swallows. Sherlock cannot lose this man. This beautiful, kind, perfect man must be his forever. His eyes widen as that concept suddenly becomes a very real possibility. White, hot panic spreads through his mind. Oh, god. I can’t lose John. He exhales slowly to calm himself.)

S: I thought you were a weakness. That you would make me less objective, dull my senses. And I accepted that. Then Magnussen nearly killed you. (His eyes have a far away look.) I was so angry and scared. I lashed out at the easiest target and convinced myself that Mycroft was to blame, and that his love for Molly weakened him. (Focusing on John again, whose eyes are still on the table. His left hand clenching and flexing.) I was wrong. God, John, I was such a fool.

(John’s head snaps up. When their eyes meet, Sherlock uses his to give John all the love in his heart. Wishing, wanting to sweep his doctor up into his arms. Sherlock wets his own lips and continues.)

S: You have never been my weakness. You make me stronger, better. A better man, a better detective, a better… You make my mind clear and sharp. Just having you at a crime scene helps to center me and your expertise is invaluable.

J: (jaw still tight) And what about my sentiment? (his eyes bore into Sherlock) What about yours?

(An unexpected tear trickles from Sherlock’s eye. He had not realized his eyes were even filling, and now that he knows, he is not embarrassed.)

S: (without missing a beat) Priceless. (He swallows. His expression is completely open. He has nothing to hide.) I used to think being human made me weak. I tried to be as much like a machine as possible. As much like Mycroft as I could because he was efficient and intelligent, and he convinced me the lack of sentiment was the best sentiment.

(John keeps his eyes locked on Sherlock’s, waiting for the moment when the detective back-pedals and takes his place behind a curtain of apathy. John’s fury boils over as he just waits for the expected and yet, a part of him understands. How many times did he have to guard his emotions and keep his distance in the army? He would’ve been destroyed otherwise.

But he let some people in. And that’s what infuriates John. Sherlock resisted for years. They both did. But then he let John in, only to push him away after the ordeal with Magnussen. When Sherlock made it clear that he didn’t want to marry John now or ever, John had quickly made the decision to accept it. He knew he could never give up Sherlock, but found that living it was something else entirely. The pain, the sadness, the anger was almost unbearable. If Sherlock starts this, he has to finish it. Or John will have to. He will have to leave Baker Street and Sherlock. His life.

Suddenly John can’t listen anymore. He can’t hear those words. He can’t make that decision. Not now.)

J: Sherlock. Sherlock, I can’t. I can’t do this. I can’t… (With tears in his eyes, John makes to stand, but his desperate flatmate grasps his wrists and crushes them on the table between them. John opens his mouth to protest.) Let go of me.

S: (intensely quiet, his eyes like silver flames) I love you. I am yours forever. With you, I am happy. I am complete. You make me human, John, and my humanity is the key I have always been missing. The one I have always searched for. Emotion, sentiment, caring. They are not defects found on the losing side. They are not disadvantages. They are… You are everything. You have given me everything.

(John is speechless. He stares at the man, wide-eyed as Sherlock gently releases his wrists. His hands glide to his suit coat and he pulls the ring box from his breast pocket. He delicately opens it and places it on the table before John.

John’s eyes are wider than they have ever been, his jaw slack with shock. Sherlock cups John’s hands in his own and looks deeply into his glorious, shining blue eyes.)

S: John, will you marry me?

(Air catches in John’s throat in a breathless gasp and tears fall down his cheeks. His voice is barely a whisper.)

J: Yes. Oh god, yes.

(Sherlock’s heart skips a beat. He quickly pulls the ring from the box and gets to his feet beside the table. John follows suit and stands up in front of him. They gaze at one another with wide eyes, unable to believe they are here and this is really happening. Eye contact is only broken when the tall man looks down at John’s hands and takes his left in his own, palm down. Sherlock slowly, gently slides the ring on John’s ring finger. It looks perfect on the tanned finger, glistening in the dim light of the restaurant.)

(John’s eyes move away from the ring and slowly climb Sherlock’s torso until he meets his lover’s eyes once more. No, not lover. Fiance. Sherlock’s silver eyes sparkle down at John and he smiles brightly. Unable to contain it, John grins like an idiot. He touches Sherlock’s button-down, feeling the firm body beneath his fingertips. As if of their own volition, John’s hands slide up Sherlock’s body until the detective’s face is cupped in them. Sherlock’s arms are around John, his long fingers resting on the small of his back. Their lips come together quietly and move in a way that tells the two men they were always meant to touch and caress one another. John opens his just a little and nibbles Sherlock’s luscious lower lip. Sherlock smiles against the doctor’s mouth as the tip of a tongue deftly glides over said lip.)

S: (his eyes still closed, his deep voice a delicate whisper) I love you, John.

(Before John can answer, they hear a throat clearing that is unmistakably Angelo. They separate enough to put an inch or two between their bodies. John drops his hands and Sherlock releases the smaller man’s waist in favor of holding a hand. The two men turn toward Angelo.

With an apology for their display already forming on his lips, Sherlock begins to speak only to stop when he sees Angelo’s face. It is not one of irritation or embarrassment, but one of excited anticipation. Glancing at John and then back to the proprietor, Sherlock smiles genuinely.)

S: My dear friend, you are the first to know that John and I are engaged.

Angelo: (throwing his hands up) Oh! Oh, Sherlock, I am so happy! (He throws his arms around the slender man and squeezes tightly.) You, who have been my friend all these years. (Releasing him and putting a hand on John’s shoulder.) And you… (enveloping him in a bear hug, John lets out a little gasp) You make him so happy. I have always wanted that for Sherlock. Ever since he cleared me of going to prison.

(Angelo mercifully releases John, who can finally breath normally, and takes a step back to look at them. Sherlock looks mater-of-fact, but friendly.)

S: You still went to prison.

Angelo: Eh. (shrugging, his smile broadening) But not for as long.

(Angelo insists they share a toast and they talk at length. The jolly man manages to tell some embarrassing stories about the world’s only consulting detective that John hasn’t heard before. When the duo finally leaves the restaurant and gets into a cab for home, it is after midnight.

John’s eyes fall to where he holds hands with his fiance and he lets out a contented sigh. Two of Sherlock’s fingers stroke John’s gently. John raises his gaze to see the detective smiling at him. When their eyes meet, the smile slowly fades. Sherlock’s eyes grow increasingly intense and heated. His expression is quickly that of a man who has stripped John bare, hungry and inflamed. John swallows and suddenly the cab can’t get to Baker Street fast enough.)