#Culverton Smith

[howdoyouwhiskit]

Once again adding to lists of my posts technically from tiktok but I’m cross posting here.

Can you tell I have a lot of fictional character anger? /s

[eirinstiva]

The most evil man

Today I read the first part of "The Adventure of Charles August Milverton" (thanks to Dr. Watson as always) and in a few lines you can already know the type of adversary he is.

There are many types of antagonists in all Holmes' stories, but those who are smart have a special place in the canon. Let's see some examples:

Irene Adler in "A Scandal in Bohemia" is the rival of Sherlock Holmes in that case. She left so strong impression in the detective that he calls her The Woman. She's smart, charming, beautiful and bit playful character, but above all she is not a villain. All that she does is to run away with her lover husband and start a new life. A smart woman with strong character that outsmarted Holmes.

In "The Adventure of the Dying Detective" we have Culverton Smith as opponent. He use a tropical disease to kill his nephew for money (IIRC) and tries to do the same with Holmes. He's evil because he kills his own family for what he wants and he has the willingness to do it again with whoever dares to search the truth.

Professor James Moriarty from "The Final Problem" is so far the most famous rival of Holmes, mathematics professor and criminal mastermind. Moriarty is essential in every adaptation of the canon and his intelligence is one of his higlights as a character. What makes Moriarty evil? The professor is the one who plans crimes for other people to execute in exchange of money. He doesn't seem the type of person who commits the crime for himself, he perfectly could be in his office, eating fish and chips while his minions do the dirty work. The evil in Moriarty is that he uses his brilliant mind for planning crimes and apparently he loves that.

We just have the first part of this story, but Charles August Milverton seems to be a completely different type of antagonist. He is smart but instead of making many different plans like Moriarty he uses blackmail. Just like Smith he wants money and is ready to take action himself and see the victim. He looks like a harmless person just like Adler but, contrary to all of these examples, Milverton enjoys to see his victims suffering. There's pleasure in watching the blackmailed person begging for a new deal, extra time or whatever they need to keep everything behind the rug. Charles August is the type of villain who wants to see the world on fire.

Speaking in chilean, él es un conchesumadre.

[asherlockstudy]

do you think culverton smith was a mirror for all the worst parts of john :0

Honestly I think in the fourth season Moftiss' writing had deteriorated too much for them to have employed the mirror trope at all. Having said that, I also don’t think mirroring was used as much as generally believed. IMO mostly Irene Adler and Jonathan Small were used as mirrors for Moriarty (some believe Irene was a mirror for Sherlock, I disagree with this take).

Smith was based on a real horrible person, Jimmy Savile. If his need to stop suppressing his truth is what makes you associate him to John, well it was something Savile did as well, he used to allude at what he was doing but as a joke.

Smith’s monologue about what the worst thing you can do to a friend is and then them regretting knowing your secret which you can’t take back could have possibly been partially influenced by the unspoken romance and John’s heteronormativity, however I don’t think the entire character was used as a mirror for him. He’s too terrible for that.

[no-side-us]

Letters From Watson Liveblog - Mar. 26

The Dying Detective, Part 2

A part of me really wants to see an alternate and expanded version of this story, where everybody Watson encounters is, for some peculiar reason, really happy at the news that Holmes is sick and dying. And it would fall on Watson to figure out why.

I love descriptions like this. You couldn't make a building look smug and demure in real life, but in writing the imagination is all you need to make it so.

I'm all for pretending you're not home when you have unwanted visitors, but it'd probably work better if said visitors couldn't hear your voice. Does he not know that Watson can hear him?

So Mr. Smith does know that Watson could hear him, otherwise why else would he say this line. I guess he's just rude enough to not care.

Watson, you have to start trusting your own senses more. Sometimes it's not the angle of the light, or a nervous tick, sometimes people just let the mask slip.

You know, this line makes me think that a good way to make a villain for Holmes is to take one of his many skills and build a whole character around them. The same way Holmes is to the detective profession, or Moriarty is to crime and Culverton Smith here is to disease. It could be a chemist, or actor, or boxer on Holmes' level.

Is this the closest either Holmes or Watson will get to an outright "I love you"? Although it is a pretty roundabout way of saying so.

Oh my, Holmes is a method actor. I do question his efforts for this specific role however. There must be easier ways to play a dehydrated and starving man on the brink of death than to dehydrate and starve yourself to the brink of death.

I would be offended, quite honestly. And I think Mrs. Hudson and Watson should be too. Surely Holmes could have just told Watson the plan from the beginning. It's not like he and Culverton Smith were talking to each other for a long time anyways. In fact, Smith even forgot Watson's name!

Yeah, I feel like the makeup and the acting would have been enough to fool Culverton. Especially with the room being dark. I don't think the starvation and dehydration was necessary.

Also, today's letter taught me a new word. "Malingering" is the act of exaggerating or feigning illness in order to escape duty or work. I'm surprised it's not used more.

I like that at least Holmes acknowledges that he does indeed recognize and respect Watson's medical expertise, especially with how hurt Watson was by his earlier words.

And on to the next case. I will try to summon as much festive spirit for it as I can muster.

Part 1 - Part 2

[consult-sherlockholmes]

their -cs makes it look like it's consult-sherlock just like venting LMFAOOOOOO

Time to torture john on anon too............. poor little sherlock. Flinchies. Move too fast. Hands come up, protect his face or stomach after all those gut kicks. <M3 <3 <3

That seems to be Culverton Smith. Or someone impersonating him, which could be possible, given the fact he should be in prison with no internet access. You don't know anything so shut up.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

When people talk about S4 they tend to talk about Culverton being a John mirrror and every time I am like ???

Could you please explain? I don't see any resemblance?

Thanks in advance!

Hey Lovely!

Ah, have they? Aside from them looking similar in the episode, I haven't really seen much meta about them being narrative mirrors, really. Just meta regarding Culverton being part of John's Alibi or being drugged by Culverton.

You can check out my Culverton Smith tag here on my blog for more meta, but yeah, I'd be interested myself for some of those meta to add to my tag, if anyone's got them!

[criminalisticonsultant]

Uhhh it’s getting hot in here; perfect time to come back and watch Mr. Holmes BURN. I’d love to turn him into a thing myself but you can go for it. Just let me watch would you?

-CS

[blistering-typhoons]

watched granada dying detective earlier today and FIRST OF ALL THAT'S JANE BENNET- and secondly, holmes is such a delight in it oh my goodness <3 i loved all his interactions with children, and his general silliness contrasted incredibly well with that INCREDIBLY badass reveal- jeremy brett you will always be famous ✨

[alynnl]

A line I read in one of the Sherlock short stories ("My friend never stood on the dock") and my recent fixation on the Ace Attorney series led to me asking one question.

"What if Sherlock Holmes did go on trial, being accused of murder?"

The short story title would refer to the courthouse (maybe The Old Bailey, referenced in The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles.)

Immediately following his arrest, Holmes sends a message to Watson. In the note, he tells Watson not to get sentimental and visit him in jail that night, but instead to investigate the scene of the crime, and see what he can deduce from it. Showing great trust in his friend, Watson does just that and takes very detailed notes on his findings.

"There was never a greater test of my own powers of observation."

And because of Holmes's status as a sort of celebrity, he will have a closed trial, with only members of the judiciary and key people on the case attending. This is to prevent the trial from becoming a media circus, and ensure the verdict will be reached by evidence and testimony rather than public opinion.

Godfrey Norton, who is now Irene Adler's husband, is serving as Holmes's defense counsel. Irene herself is attending the trial, watching from the gallery. (This is the final way Irene outsmarted Holmes in A Scandal in Bohemia - everyone believed Norton was a prosecutor working on her behalf, when he was actually a public defender.)

The opposing counsel is Charles Culverton-Smith, a prosecutor who is on track to become Director of Public Prosecutions. There’s a possibility that he took the case to add to his reputation (but that’s just speculation on Watson and Norton’s part.)

Watson tells Holmes of this theory when they speak in the defendant's lobby just before the trial, but Holmes is skeptical.

"If Culverton-Smith truly wanted to bolster his reputation, he would insist on a public trial where he could show his legal prowess to a larger audience. There is something else at play here, something far more sinister."

The trial begins. Both Norton and Culverton-Smith give their legal arguments, supporting their stances with evidence and witness testimony.

Watson is the final witness to speak in the trial. He describes his findings at the crime scene, and tries to use factual language (as Holmes remarked to him before, when talking about his writings.) Everyone in the courtroom (including the judge and the prosecution) believe Watson's observations to be so important, that they agree to call for a thirty minute recess. During the pause in proceedings, Lestrade and other policemen to look over the crime scene one more time alongside Watson to confirm what he said was true.

Sure enough, Watson's deductions prove that Sherlock Holmes couldn't have been the killer. When court is back in session, Lestrade gives his report. Based on the new information, the judge hands down a verdict of "not guilty" to Sherlock Holmes.

There is little time to celebrate, as Holmes immediately whisks Watson away to the streets of London. He insists they make haste the nearest carriage, because "There's still time to catch the true mastermind behind this devious plot!"

Lestrade picks up on Holmes's pursuit and decides to lead his own forces to block one of the main exits to London.

Meanwhile, Holmes and Watson enter a high speed chase against the true culprit, who's been behind at least two other incidents of framing people for murders he committed.

At the end of the chase, the criminal is surrounded by Lestrade and his police force on one side, along with Holmes and Watson (who is armed with his revolver) on the other side. He finally surrenders and gives himself up, at last being taken into custody.

Watson is astonished at this turn of events. "My dear Holmes, you've done it again! I'm speechless!"

"Indeed I have, but I insist you don't undersell your role in this, dear Watson. This case would have a much darker conclusion without your thoughtful analysis. I trust that you will reflect that in your writings, if there is ever a time you will be permitted to release the details to the public."

Charles Culverton-Smith catches up with Holmes and Watson. He didn't get a chance to speak with them after the trial, but wanted them to know that he harbored no ill will towards Holmes. He was simply doing his job as a man who practices law, and couldn't imagine leaving the trial to anyone else. Because everyone deserves a fair trial, and many other lawyers are biased either for or against Holmes, depending on how his actions affected their cases.

Holmes comments that Culverton-Smith will make a fine Director of Public Prosecutions when the time comes, since his integrity speaks for itself.

"If I am ever on the dock in the future, I would trust your judgment."

Watson insists Holmes not talk about "the next time in court" because he doesn't want there to be a "next time."

Holmes agrees to move on from the subject. He points out there is still ample time for breakfast and sets off to find the nearest place that will serve Watson's favorite dishes. "My treat, naturally."

Watson concludes the story mentioning that five years have passed since the first and only trial of his friend, Sherlock Holmes. The events in the closed courtroom have been made public, to teach students of law how to conduct a fair trial of a famous (or infamous) client.

[no-side-us]

Letters From Watson Liveblog - Mar. 24

The Dying Detective, Part 1

Remember how Holmes and Watson first met because Holmes needed someone to go halves with him on the rent? And now look at him, with his "princely" payments. Good on him.

Is it me, or is this an odd thing for Watson to write. I know Holmes isn't exactly the best with women, and we've seen him both understand and be perplexed by them, but I think "disliked and distrusted the sex" is not how he would actually feel.

And there's the hook, in case you assumed the title might be referring to some other detective, like I did when I first read this story. The great Sherlock Holmes is dying! What could it be? Prepare for Watson to be incredibly distressed by all this.

Ah, what love! If anyone wanted more bits of care and drama between Watson and Holmes, this story is for you. It almost feels like a sickfic someone would write.

I adore how angry Holmes is here. He's positively stewing in sickly rage at any attempt by Watson to take care of him, or even to get physically close to him. And the utter desire of Watson to ignore him makes it all the better.

Holmes: "You're a third rate doctor with fourth rate qualifications!"

He's so mean in this story, it's incredible. And Watson's so upset and hurt and confused, also incredible.

In the very beginning of this story, Watson writes that Mrs. Hudson was a "long-suffering woman" due to having Holmes as a tenant. And it's all the stuff Watson has to deal with today that makes me think the same of him as a "long-suffering friend" of Holmes.

You know, it occurs to me that with Watson out of the apartment, Mrs. Hudson might have had to occupy his role. Not completely of course, but just a little bit, like as a soundboard for Holmes when he needs it. Or like today, where she has to get a doctor for him. Regardless, she is really going through it this story, and I think it's the most she's been in a story, in which case good for her.

Part 1 - Part 2

[consult-sherlockholmes]

Prison is getting boring Mr. Holmes, I need to get back to my murder hospital. However- it’s probably not the same is it? I want to turn people into things again. Starting with you would be EXCELLENT. Maybe I’m not that far away from that.

-CS

Culverton Smith, speak of the devil. Quite literally, because you are most likely the closest really existing thing resembling the devil. You will never leave prison, you are imprisoned for life after all you did. No parole, no pardon. However, how did you get internet access? I do not think that someone like you, one of the biggest serial killers in UK history, would deserve any privileges in prison. No matter if you used to be rich, your money does not matter in prison. Hope you are having a nice time dealing with the other prisones, they sure love to get out all their pent up frustration at the capitalistic system on someone who used to be one of the richest people. You preyed on the weak and sick before, but can you deal with strong violent prisoners who are not incapacitated? But if you want to make people into things, why not start with yourself?

[anne-adler]

[47gaslamps]

People who nearly succeeded in killing Sherlock Holmes, ranked in descending order of seriousness

Sebastian Moran (The Empty House). The man had enough vendetta to single-handedly keep Holmes out of London for three years, and didn't wait a day past Holmes' return to Baker Street to make good on the threat. Even after all Holmes' elaborate preparation against it, he still would have killed him if Watson weren't in the same room.

Professor Moriarty (The Final Problem). Extremely serious, as we all know. Very nearly did come off a few times over. But... well, there's no doubt it would have come off, had he acted sooner- at any point before Holmes was on Permanent Red Alert and the whole criminal empire was collapsing about his ears. Put him in the ranks of those who tragically overestimated their opponents. If he were not a challenge and a treat but a part of the ordinary course of business, Holmes would certainly be dead.

Culverton Smith (The Dying Detective). Horrid man. Evil design. The plunging feeling in my stomach would vault him to the top of the list if left to its own devices. But he put all his hopes in sending Holmes a prank jewel-box. As there is no reason one would anonymously send Holmes a real jewel-box, that makes the effort a bit less serious.

Tonga (The Sign of Four). This stood a better chance of working. All he lacks is the ability to shoot accurately while on a riverboat, and it's an ugly way to die. But you can't take Tonga seriously. He is a walking extract from the pages of the Encyclopedia of Obscure Racism, and you can't get past that.

Baron Gruner (The Illustrious Client). Responsible for the greatest actual bodily harm Holmes incurs during the series, but not a full-throated murder attempt. He seems to regard a killing, a maiming and a roughing-up as basically interchangeable ideas.

Alec Cunningham (The Reigate Squires). What do you expect to happen after you've strangled Holmes in the next room from an active police inspector, guy? You think you're getting off that murder charge now? Should've used that energy to run like a bunny.

Sherlock Holmes (The Devil's Foot). What. Were. You. Thinking.

Count Sylvius (The Mazarin Stone). The grade of villainous plot I expect from a literal cartoon.

[faithful-grigori]

“#crimes against humanity again i'm afraid, #human experimentation, #self poisoning for reasons of being an extreme dumbass, #look another story i coincidentally have professional knowledge vaguely related to”

Letters from Watson: The Dying Detective

Crimes in context:

Medical History Sorry in advance for the medical grossness. Please skip to the cut if you never want to see the words open sores ever again. First, to piece together Culverton Smith's crimes against humanity and also the murder. Culverton Smith appears to have gone to Sumatra to make a living planting, with the labor primarily done by indentured servants or low wage workers, possibly slaves, from the local population. (I say slaves because although slavery was not officially legal in England or it's colonies at this time, there have been historically a lot of situations that are essentially slavery with some thin veneer of justification, especially when you're occupying a country, and you can make any law you want about requiring people to work for you for nothing, or the next thing to nothing.) To top this off, he was either experimenting on these workers with his favorite tropical disease, or using them to incubate it so that he could keep a stock of the infectious material on hand.

This is how Smallpox stock used to be carried overseas: A chain of people would be infected with a diluted or weakened virus. When one person's symptoms would start to wane, the fluids from their open sore would be transferred via a cut in the skin to the next person in line, who would carry the infection until they began to recover. In the transfer of smallpox for the purposes of creating vaccinations and inoculations, these were volunteers. The carriers also benefitted in many cases from being inoculated in the process, since these cases of smallpox were milder than the wild variants, and being a carrier would give you about the same immunity as an inoculation of the day. Now, we have refrigeration, glycerol stocks, the ability to use only portions of viruses (usually the proteins in their outer shell) in vaccines and most importantly, sterile fucking needles. I will never be leaving this century, even though we do have covid. All this to say that Culverton Smith can rot in hell, but I also wanted to cover Watson: why did he write this case up?

Watson's Writing

For those of you who have made it this far into my reread without knowing what is to come: The Final Problem, in which Holmes dies, will occur in April of 1891. All Holmes short stories, and the remaining two novels, were published after this date. Presuming that my date of 1890 is correct for this story (which we can, and will, revisit later as it was NOT my initial impression of the timeline), we can presume that Watson had reasons for not publishing it in his initial collection of 24 short stories, likely grief. Thinking back on this time would have been extremely painful from a variety of directions: as the months go on and on he's further convinced that Holmes is not faking it this time, and Watson probably desperately wished that he was.

Then too, despite the fact that Watson closes the story abruptly without describing his emotions at Holmes' deception, we can deduce them. He's insulted - despite Holmes' words that he never doubted his professional abilities, just his ability to lie, Holmes still disparaged him. He's angry - Holmes has shut him out of his plans and made him believe for the better part of three or four hours that he was about to lose his best friend. He's frustrated because despite the illness being an act Holmes is still harming himself with his denial of his body's limits, i.e. that a human can die if they're dehydrated for three days, and also his casual use of poisons. Belladonna, it turns out, is not good for your eyes, which is why we don't use it anymore, aside from the hideous toxicity.

Watson has been a prop in Holmes' stagings of case conclusions before, but there's a vast difference between being framed for breaking a bowl and playing along, and being deceived, berated, insulted, and isolated to ensure that you play the part correctly. There is a definite possibility that they did have a fight over this - even Baring-Gould's timeline has a gap of over a month between this and the next recorded case. It isn't an unusual amount of time, as no doubt Holmes did not always have cases that were cinematic enough to make the cut, and also Watson had a business and a household to attend to, but it's enough time for them to pointedly not see each other, and for Watson to forgive him and come around for a post Christmas visit.

Ask a microbiologist: WTF is Smith doing with his jars of bacteria?

Hello Tumblr, I grow germs for a living. And based on the description of Smith's lab / study I have a few questions, namely, how is he storing his bacteria? Based on the jars and bottles that he refers to as his "prisons" he's keeping them at uncontrolled room temperature. This probably tracks with best practice at this time, as refrigeration was based on putting things in a box with ice, and iirc although bacteria were known to be the drivers of spoilage, the idea that they would grow, and die, slower at lower temperatures was not part of professional microbiology at the time. Also based on Smith's own words, he's storing the bacterial colonies in agar, which matches with modern methods... sort of. Agar is solid at room temperature, and when it's liquid (at about 100 Celsius), it's too hot for most bacteria to survive in. This is important because the description of these jars and bottles appears to imply that they are filled with solidified agar, and there's really no reason Smith needs a full jar of solid agar to keep his bacteria in: when we keep bacteria in a liquid it's called a broth and does not have agar in it, because we want it to remain a liquid. Yes, Smith could be doing a fairly standard setup where he pours a quarter inch of agar into a vessel and, when the agar is solid, "plates" bacteria on top of it. The description does not unambiguously rule it out. But if he's trying to preserve his bacteria by entombing them in solid agar, and then melting the agar to retrieve them, it's a lot funnier. Mostly because it would mean that his pet bioweapon from Sumatra isn't viable anymore.

[meetinginsamarra]

My Sherlock Whumptober Fics

I am slaving away to get as many prompts done in advance as I can for this year's whumptober event.

"Take My Broken Love" will be a HLV fix-it.

Here is the cover as a teaser!

++++

In the meantime, if you have not yet, go read my two earlier whumptober fics!

++++

Learn My Scars (2022) is a TEH fix-it

After being thrown down and strangled, Sherlock leaves John in the restaurant, angry and deeply hurt. When John follows Sherlock to 221b, he learns that Sherlock's scars have not been acquired by “gallivanting around” for two years.

++++

Slowly Suffocating  (2023) is a TLD fix-it

Getting suffocated took some time. Enough time for Sherlock to ponder what went wrong. Hopefully also long enough for John to arrive and rescue him. Culverton Smith applied more pressure, impatient to turn Sherlock into a dead thing.

++++

Happy pain to you all!

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 4) Chapter Seventeen

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter Seventeen: Favorite Room

Summary: Things have to go wrong before they can go write.

            “Where are we going now?” said Sherlock as Culverton led them through the hospital.

            “I want to show you my favorite room,” said Culverton.

            “No, let’s go in here,” said Sherlock, pausing at an open door and walking in.

            (Y/N) saw that it resembled what Sherlock said Faith had said about her father’s strange meetings with drugs.

            “So, you’ve had another one of your little meetings?” said Sherlock.

            “Oh, it’s just a monthly top-up,” said Culverton casually. “Confession is good for the soul.” He didn’t both to ask how Sherlock knew about the meetings. “Provided you can delete it.”

            John looked at the IV bags. “What’s TD-12?”

            “It’s a memory inhibitor,” said (Y/N).

            “Bliss,” said Culverton with a pleased smirk.

            “Bliss?” said John.

            “Opt-in ignorance,” said Culverton.

            “Makes the world go round,” said Sherlock sarcastically. “Anyone opt-in to remember?”

            “Some people take the drip out,” said Culverton. “Yes, some people have the same urges. Now, come on. Wasting time.”

            “Indeed.” Sherlock looked at his watch. “You have, I estimate, twenty minutes left.”

            “Sorry?” said Culverton, still with a smile as he opened the door.

            “I sent a text from your phone, remember?” said Sherlock. “I was read almost immediately, factoring in a degree of shock, and emotion decision, and a journey time based on the associate address, I’d say that your life as you know it has twenty minutes left to run. Well, no. 17.5, to be precise, but I rounded up for dramatic effect. So please do show us your favorite room. It’ll give you a chance to say goodbye.”

            Culverton just chuckled. “Come along.” He wasn’t concerned in the slightest.

            John looked at (Y/N). They shrugged. That hadn’t been a part of the pan, so even they had no idea what the text meant.

            They followed Culverton into an elevator that descended deep into the hospital.

            “Speaking of serial killers, you know who’s my favorite?” said Culverton.

            “Other than yourself?” said Sherlock.

            Culverton chuckled. “H.H. Holmes. Relative of yours?”

            Sherlock and (Y/N) rolled their eyes. “Not as far as we know,” said Sherlock.

            “You should check,” said Culverton. He opened the doors of his favorite room.

            The chill air of the morgue washed over them.

            “Everybody out,” said Culverton.

            “Mr. Smith, we’re actually in the middle of something,” said a morgue attendant, standing in front of a body ready for autopsy.

            “Saheed, isn’t it?” said Culverton, voice growing cold just as it had with Cornish.

            “Saheed, yes.” Saheed nodded hesitantly.

            “How long have you been working here now?” said Culverton.

            “Four years,” said Saheed.

            “Four years. That’s a long time, isn’t it?” Again, the threat of losing one’s job was unspoken but present. “Four years.”

            Saheed swallowed and looked at his coworkers. “Okay, everyone. Five minutes?”

            “Come back in ten,” said Culverton coldly.

            The workers filed out.

            “Saheed,” said Culverton before he left. “This time, knock.”

            Saheed walked quickly out of the room.

            “How can you do that?” said John. “How…How are you even allowed in here?”

            “Oh, I can go anywhere I like,” said Culverton. He fished a ring of keys out of his pocket. “Anywhere at all.”

            John stared. “They gave you the keys?” That was a huge liability.

            “They presented them to me,” said Culverton. “There was a ceremony. You can watch that on YouTube. The Home Secretary was there.”

            “So, your favorite room. The mortuary,” said (Y/N), sick and tired of hearing his smug crowing.

            “What do you think?” said Culverton.

            “Tough crowd,” said Sherlock.

            “Oh, I don’t know.” Culverton approached the body on the slab. “You know, I’ve always found them quite pliable.” He touched the woman’s jaw and made it open.

            “Don’t do that,” said John sharply.

            “She’s fine,” said Culverton. “She’s dead.”

            (Y/N) narrowed their eyes. They weren’t one to respect a lot of people, but Culverton’s way of dismissing the humanity of the person before him was something they didn’t stand for. They despised him.

            “H.H. Holmes loved the dead. He mass-produced them,” said Culverton.

            “Serial killer, active during the Chicago Fair,” said Sherlock.

            “You know what he did?” said Culverton. “He built a hotel, a special hotel, just to kill people. You know, with a hanging room, gas chamber, specially adapted furnace. You know, like Sweeny Todd. ‘Without the pies.’ Stupid. So stupid.” He let go of the woman, and John covered her face honorably.

            “Why stupid?” said John.

            “Well, all that effort,” said Culverton. “You don’t build a beach if you want to hide a pebble. You just find a beach and…If you wanna hide a murder, you wanna hide lots and lots of murders, just find a…hospital.”

            This was his murder hotel—his serial killing hidden in plain sight. (Y/N) disliked his smugness. They’d certainly enjoy taking him down. Because they and Sherlock would.

            John sucked in a breath. He saw the evil Sherlock and (Y/N) had seen in Culverton. It was plain. “Can we be clear? Are you confessing?”

            “To what?” Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be that easy.

            “The way you’re talking,” said John.

            “Oh, yes.” Culverton grinned. “You mean, am I a serial killer? Or am I just trying to mess with your funny little head?”

            “From my experience, the two aren’t mutually exclusive,” said (Y/N) coldly. “And I’ve dealt with people more dangerous than you.”

            Culverton’s cold gaze landed on them. “More dangerous?” He didn’t like the idea of others with more power than him.

            “Yes. You’re not special,” said (Y/N) with a snakelike smile.

            Culverton tsked. “Maybe not special. But am I what he says I am?” Culverton gestured to Sherlock. “Is that the real question? Hmm. Well, let me ask this—are you really a doctor?” He looked at John.

            “Yeah, of course I am,” said John.

            “No, a medical doctor, not just feet or media studies or something,” said Culverton.

            “I’m a doctor,” said John, completely self-assured. Sherlock teased him, but John knew his own abilities and was capable at his jobs (which were first being a doctor and second keeping Sherlock’s ego in check).

            “Are you serious?” said Culverton. “No, really. Are you? Are you, are you actually serious? I played along with this joke. It’s not funny any more.” He was no longer smiling pleasantly. “You know, look at him.” Culverton gestured to Sherlock. “Go ahead, look at him, Dr. Watson. Hm? Oh, no, I’ll lay it out for you. There are two possible explanations for what’s going on here. Either I’m a serial killer or Sherlock Holmes is off his tits on drugs. Hmm?! Delusional paranoia about a public personality. That’s not so special. That’s not even new.” He looked at (Y/N). “And you’re just a teenager with clear mental issues that made you so unstable you’d believe a man on drugs.”

            (Y/N)’s expression didn’t change, didn’t falter, didn’t give any indicated his words affected them. That’s what he wanted, and (Y/N) wouldn’t give it to him.

            “I think you need to tell your faithful little friend that you’re both wasting his time because your brain doesn’t work correctly and you’re too high to know what’s real anymore,” sneered Culverton. He stepped away, and there was a pause.

            “I apologize.” Sherlock spoke quietly. “I-I miscalculated. I forgot to factor in the traffic.” He looked at his watch, and his voice grew steady. “19.5 minutes.” Down the hall, the sound of the door creaking open echoed to them. “Ah, the footsteps you’re about to hear will be very familiar to you, not least because there’ll be three impacts instead of two. The third, of course, will be the end of a walking cane. You daughter Faith’s walking cane.”

            Why did he text her? thought (Y/N). Sherlock had explained his meeting with her when he disappeared from 221B against the rules, but she hadn’t been a major part of their plan. It seemed Sherlock was trying to speed things up.

            “Why would she be here?” asked Culverton.

            “You invited her,” said Sherlock. “You sent her a text. Or, or, technically I sent her a text, but she’s not to know. Um, let’s see if I can recall. ‘Faith, I can stand it no longer, I’ve confessed to my crimes. Please forgive me.’ ”

            “How would that have any effect?” said Culverton. “You don’t know her.”

            “Oh, but I do,” said Sherlock. “I spent a whole evening with her. We had chips. I think she liked me.”

            “You don’t know Faith. You simply do not,” said Culverton.

            “I know you care about her deeply,” said Sherlock. “I know you invited her to one of your special board meetings. You care what she thinks. You maintain an impressive façade. I think it’s about the break. She came to Baker Street.”

            “No, she didn’t,” said Culverton.

            “She came to see me because she was scared of her daddy,” said Sherlock

            “Never happened,” said Culverton. “Is this another one of your drug-fueled fantasies?”

            “Well, let’s see, shall we?” said Sherlock. “Faith, stop loitering at the door and come in. This is your father’s favorite room.”

            The doors opened, and Faith walked through.

            “Come and meet his best friends.” Sherlock turned to face Faith, and (Y/N) saw his expression fall into confusion, like he didn’t recognize her.

            “Dad? What’s happening?” asked Faith. “What was that text? Another one of your jokes?” She laughed.

            Sherlock just stared at her, legitimately confused.

            She looked at Sherlock. “Who are you?”

            (Y/N) kept their face calm but frowned internally. Dad said he met her. So what…?

            “Who the hell are you?” said Sherlock, blinking.

            “Sherlock Holmes. Surely you recognize him,” said Culverton to Faith.

            “Oh my god.” Faith smiled. “Sherlock Holmes? I love your blog.”

            “You’re not her. You’re not the woman who came to Baker Street,” muttered Sherlock.

            “Erm, well, no. Never been there,” said Faith.

            What is going on? (Y/N) was rarely confused, yet they were at the moment.

            “Sorry, I’m not sure I completely understand,” said Sherlock.

            “Understand what?” asked Faith, now growing confused herself.

            “But I thought you two were-were old friends,” said Culverton, seizing upon the chance to humiliate and discredit Sherlock.

            “No, we’ve never met,” said Faith, smiling politely. “Have we?”

            “Oh, dear.” Culverton laughed.

            “Sherlock?” said John.

            “Dad?” said (Y/N), glancing at him.

            “So who came to my flat…?” murmured Sherlock.

            “Well, it wasn’t me,” said Faith.

            “You look different,” said Sherlock.

            Come on, just get on with the plan. We’ll work this out later, thought (Y/N), but they just kept watching him in concern. They believed he had seen someone, but how—how did this fit anything? How was it possible? (Y/N) didn’t want to entertain the idea that the drugs had altered his head so much. They’d been careful.

            “I’m sorry, I wasn’t there,” said Faith while Culverton kept laughing. “I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere near your flat.”

            “Oh, dear. Oh, no.” Culverton was just too pleased by this turn of events. “Oh, no, no!”

            Sherlock shook his head frantically to clear it.

            Please, just go with the plan! (Y/N) took a step back from him as he shook his hands and head erratically. Please, Dad! They couldn’t watch him like this.

            “Sherlock, you alright? Sherlock, you okay?” said John. He put a grounding hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder as he saw them just staring blankly at Sherlock. This was no act.

            “Watch him, he’s got a knife!” said Sherlock.

            “What?” scoffed Culverton.

            “Got a scalpel. You picked it up from that table,” said Sherlock. “I saw you take it.”

            (Y/N) relaxed minutely. Back on track. Sherlock wasn’t losing it. Dad’s okay. Dad’s okay. Dad’s okay.

            “I certainly did not!” said Culverton.

            “Look behind his back!” said Sherlock. “I saw you! I saw you take it!” He pointed at Culverton and revealed the scalpel in his hands.

            Everyone, even Culverton, reacted with gasps and whoas.

            “Sherlock, put that down,” said John, stepping up.

            “Oh my god, oh my god!” cried Faith.

            “Dad,” said (Y/N), not having to force the waver of their voice too much unfortunately.

            “Put it down,” repeated John firmly.

            “Stop laughing at me,” said Sherlock, glaring at Culverton.

            “I’m not laughing,” said Culverton.

            “He’s not laughing, Sherlock,” said John.

            “Stop laughing at me!” shouted Sherlock. He lunged.

            John grabbed his arm and hit it. The scalpel clattered to the floor. He pushed Sherlock into the lockers.

            “Sherlock!” he snapped. “Stop it! Stop it now!” He slapped Sherlock. “What are you doing?! Wake up!” Sherlock just stared. John reared back and punched him. (Y/N) winced. “Is this a game?! A bloody game.”

            Nurses finally heard the commotion, ran in, and pulled John away from Sherlock.

            “Please, please, please, no violence,” said Culverton, already playing his façade perfectly. “Thank you, Dr. Watson. I don’t think he’s a danger anymore. Leave him be.” He spoke magnanimously, like a pretend saint.

            “No, it’s okay. Let him do what he wants. He’s entitled.” Sherlock looked up at John. “I killed his wife.”

            (Y/N)’s gaze softened, and John swallowed.

            “Yes, you did,” said John.

            Sherlock looked at the floor. (Y/N) didn’t speak. What could anyone say to that?

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