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snaitf · 6 months ago

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Rathbone Holmes, attempt #2

So I asked @blistering-typhoons about Rathbone Holmes awhile back. I tried getting into it in high school, and couldn’t get past how dirty they did Watson, cause Watson is my absolute favorite. BUT, I had seen their unironic delight at the adaptation and wondered if there was something I had missed. Even Granada Holmes, which is undeniably fabulous in terms of adaptation, had some hit and miss episodes. (The Last Vampyre. Why.) Maybe I had just had a bad, or at least particularly egregious, example.

Typhoons gave me three episodes to try out. I will go over them, and my impressions. I try not to give egregious spoilers in my discussions, but be aware they likely exist in some way.

The Pearl of Death

Okay, this is a fun and solid adaptation of The Six Napoleons. The fact that the thief/killer/monomaniac busted up a bunch of china to obfuscate the fact that they were after the plaster busts is actually a nice double blind that provides an additional hurdle before the picture becomes clear. The inclusion of the Creeper is kind of… weird? Is this a Creeping Man reference?? (looks it up) nooo, but apparently the Creeper had… his own spin-off?? What?? EXPLAIN your reasoning, 1940s Universal Studios.

I simply MUST, very briefly, go off about the knife book trap. It’s… look, it’s objectively silly. It’s an Adam West Batman level of silly trap. But, since we don’t actually see what the asshole is doing with the gift in the hallway before giving it to Watson, it’s set up as an homage to the Dying Detective, which means we get like 30 AGONIZING minutes of Watson just-barely-not springing the trap. (Note - I’ve looked back at the episode and it’s barely 5 minutes. Why am I so obsessed with this scene lmao). If I had realized it was a sproingy dagger rather than poison, I think I actually would’ve been less stressed. Because LISTEN, if there is ANYTHING I LOVE, it is a DYIN AU where Watson accidentally springs the box trap. There are surprisingly few of them out there, at least that I have found. Katie Forsythe did an excellent one. (if you know of any more PLEASE SEND THEM TO MEEE).

So much digression, sorry. All of this to say, Literally up until Holmes walked in the room, I wasn’t completely convinced they weren’t going to turn the tables on us with the music box trap. Like, the tension was absolutely obvious, but I felt it!

And now we get a little bit into my impressions of this Watson.

This Watson is… I can’t read him as dangerous. I have a hard time believing “former army doctor” from this chap. He’s affable, a bit absent-minded, and fiercely devoted to and protective of his Holmes, but when push comes to shove, would he brain a blackmailer with a chair? I dunno. (If there is in fact a later episode where he actually brains Milverton with a chair, PLEASE. PROVE ME WRONG THAT WOULD BE SO FUNNY). But I think what I like to take away from this Watson, which I’ve seen in a LOT of fanfic and which seems like a touchstone of Sherlock Holmes mythos, is this: it’s nearly impossible not to like Watson. Where Holmes can range from purposefully insufferable to intensely unlikeable, Watson is just. A good man. He’s just a good guy that I’d like to sit down and have tea with. Part of that is the “I’m just the humble narrator” everyman of the original stories, but. I dunno. There IS something about this Watson that’s incredibly likeable.

I think the reason the knife book trap hit ME so well is that the idea of THIS Watson falling victim to a trap set for Holmes is especially galling. This guy?! Who misplaced a paper clipping he was in the middle of gluing into his commonplace book? You’re gonna ACCIDENTALLY murder THIS MAN? The stupid knife book got me where the “You MURDERED my best friend!” bluff at the end of the episode absolutely did not. XD

Anyway, Holmes walks into the room and immediately knows the book is a knife. On to Lestrade.

I didn’t think it was possible, but somehow they’ve done Lestrade even dirtier than Watson in this adaptation. Like… yikes. I know the early stories had a lot of contempt for the Yard, but come on!! It’s the SIX NAPOLEONS! Lestrade’s opportunity to say “look, there are no actual hard feelings, we actually LOVE you at the Yard.” You don’t gotta make him… just, the worst. Although, I have to say the sass-off between Lestrade and Watson is very fun. It’s about the only bit of fun Lestrade gets to have.

The House of Fear

I promise this will be shorter than the previous entry. And honestly, I’m kind of bummed about that. I WISH I had more to say. But I have to be honest.

A 1940s-era locked room mystery, in a big isolated house that they can’t leave, where the guests are picked off one-by-one, and two guests have to join forces and wits to stay alive and get to the bottom of it? I’m sorry, but the whole time my brain was going “Ah man, I want to be watching And Then There Were None.”

I am entirely biased in this point, I have to say. When I was a kid, I was sent for several summers in a row on a week-long visit to my grandmother. She had some frankly incredible stories - if she’s to be believed, she potentially met Nikta fucking Kruschev on a vacation abroad. I regret that it was hard for Young Snaitf to really connect with her, except in one topic: mysteries. We had wildly different tastes in a lot of things, but on those week-long visits we both found out that no one in the house would object if an episode of Murder, She Wrote was on the TV, and we both genuinely loved the Rene Clair adaptation of And Then There Were None. If you haven’t watched it, I cannot recommend it highly enough. The whole opening sequence establishes every single visitor to the island - their quirks, foibles, and flaw - without a single line of dialogue. It’s masterful.

Against the double barrel shotgun of nostalgia and a genuinely masterful adaptation, I’m afraid House of Fear holds no contest for me. Watching this episode just made me think of Grandmother Marie, and made me want to watch the movie. Sorry, ya’ll.

Pursuit to Algiers

Typhoons called this the “Big Daddy herself” and I can’t say I disagree. I really, REALLY liked this one.

The initial set-up of random street- and pub- people feeding Holmes clues and cryptic warnings was so incredibly effective. It was off-putting, how very blatant it was to both Holmes and the audience. I believe they were trying to use Watson to juxtapose with the innocent reaction, but honestly the fact that he didn’t pick up on the sinister vibes just came off as weird. Unless his “I don’t like fish and chips, sorry” is his way of brushing them off. “No creepy murder pubs for US today, sorry.” Unfortunately for him, they’ve managed to intrigue Holmes.

I like that Watson’s loyalty really gets to shine here. The plot is explained, and it’s one they genuinely can’t turn away from. And then a perfectly reasonable explanation is given as to why they have to separate, and Watson is just Not Having It. When the fish factor is so high that even this Watson calls bullshit, you KNOW it’s bad.

Typhoons referenced a very specific and emotional scene, and I’m so sorry typhoon. I fucked up. I was paying attention to the notice board, where the name of the boat was inscribed, and I ABSOLUTELY LOST MY SHIT about the fact that we’re on the Friesland! WE’RE ON THE DUTCH STEAMSHIP FRIESLAND. (I don’t know how I didn’t put this together until this very moment, forgive my shit listening skills) and I missed at least half of the emotional impact of this scene. I have to agree, though. There is this… weight of “what am I to do now?” that I really wish we’d gotten a little more time to sit in. Maybe a Watson left to his own devices would still befriend the singer lady and find out about the stolen jewels. Alas, Watson is given about five seconds to absorb this development before he’s pulled in another direction.

Anyway, none of these reviews is very comprehensive, and I didn’t take very many notes, so all I have is this last impression that I wrote down: Here we see a Watson that’s a step behind Holmes, because that is where Holmes prefers him to be. They didn’t have to make him stupid to put him there. And he was genuinely part of the plan the whole way through, in a classic (if assholey) Holmesian way: Holmes does not tell him the whole plan, so that Watson’s reactions will be genuine. I feel that this worked particularly well in Pursuit to Algiers, in a way that managed not to irritate me. Well bloody done.

in summation: I think I see the appeal.

#sherlock holmes #rathbone holmes #Pearl of death #House of fear #Pursuit to Algiers

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darktrashsoulbear · 3 days ago

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The Abyss Of Affection

Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: Aemond discovers the book his sweet wife has been obsessed with and after reading one of the scenes, a plan begins to formulate (fluff)

This was inspired by a conversation I had with the wonderful Hannah @gwaynesprincess

House of the Dragon Masterlist

Warnings: Allusions to smut

Word Count: 2308

Divider Credit: @saradika-graphics

Not entirely show canon as Jaehaerys is alive, Maelor exists and people are happy

Any likes, comments and reblogs are always always appreciated :)

His calculated footsteps echoed in the hallways of the keep’s royal chambers, following the elder of the King’s brothers - Prince Aemond Targaryen - back to his chambers after an incredibly taxing day filled with fulfilling duties that were not his own and patrolling the city atop his beloved Vhagar, the Queen of all Dragons. Many would argue a dragon fit for a true king, Aemond would agree. Finally rounding the corner, he greeted the familiar face of Ser Steffon giving a cordial nod as he made his way through the doors of his chambers, removing his cloak as he went.

The sight that greeted the prince was not surprising yet still brought a small, fond smile to his face. Laying on her side of the feather bed was his sweet wife curled up under the various blankets spread across the bed to combat the chill in the air as the citadel switched black ravens to white and summer turned to winter. Aemond made quick work of stripping out of his leathers and into a loose night shirt and breeches ready to join his wife in slumber.

Just as he was about to blow out the candles beside where they lay, he noticed a book beneath the blankets next to his sweet wife’s sleeping form. He picked it up ready to place it on the small table on her side of the bed before taking a look at the title and realising it was the book that had so often stolen her attention away from him during the nights they spent together before the fire. The prince’s insatiable curiosity, it seems, also extended to what on earth his sweet wife could be reading in the non-academic books she so loves.

Flipping over to one of the pages he remembers her completely raving about with her lady in waiting, he began to read and as he continued, a plan began to formulate.

She was met by a chorus of “good morrow, Princess” to which she responded with decidedly less vigour and an almost petulant expression as she discovered that her husband was in fact not in their shared chambers. This prompted the other ladies in the room to barely suppress their giggles knowing how not seeing her husband in the mornings can dampen her mood - not that the Prince fairs any better himself.

“Do any of you happen to know where my dear lord husband is at such an hour?” she discontentedly drawled.

The handmaidens exchanged uneasy glances with one another which, of course, did not escape her watchful gaze and she probed further with a single raise of an eyebrow. Silence ensued for a couple of very awkward, tension-filled seconds until the Princess’ lady in waiting - Elaena - stepped closer and stated that “we are not at liberty to say, Princess,” adding a slight curtsy at the end.

Again silence ensued only interrupted by her own chortle “what in the name of the seven do you mean ‘not at liberty’, forgive me but I am utterly confused.”

“I’m afraid Prince Aemond has forbidden us to speak of it Princess and he reminded us that if you demanded… well Princess he said for us to remember that his orders outrank yours,” Elaena hesitantly explained, shoulders visibly tense at her admission.

An even longer silence commenced, this one not so easily interrupted. Instead the Princess slightly nodded her head and proceeded to load some fresh fruits onto her plate before biting into a strawberry that was surprisingly ripe given the season. She sat with a contemplative look on her face, her ladies worried she was deeply hurt when really she was wondering what the best way to punish him would be, perhaps…

She was pulled from her musings by a knock on the chamber doors which one of the handmaidens - Lyla - was quick to answer. She carried a written message delivered by a page boy and with mild curiosity the Princess unravelled it and began to read.

She then very calmly got up, retreating to the sitting chambers with her beloved book and instructed her handmaidens to leave her, and on their way to “inform Prince Aemond that if he wishes to have an audience he may do so in our private chambers, I am not a dog to be called to heel and told to wait in the dragon pit until he finally chooses to descend from the sky”.

Suddenly Queen Helaena turned to look directly into the Princess’ eyes causing her to startle. Helaena grasped her arms in a gentle hold and decided that “you will be very happy with it,” and while not always understanding but being kind to Helaena’s ways, the Princess confidently nodded in affirmation.

“I’m certain I will be sister,” followed by a soft squeeze of the Queen’s hands she quickly let go to ensure she didn’t crowd the gentle soul beside her.

Turning her attention to Maelor, the youngest of the King and Queen’s children, she scooped him into her arms and brought him to her lap where she proceeded to grab the second less than perfect dragon (Daeron’s first attempt) and began to play with him. Entirely encompassed by the babe's soft giggles she failed to notice the shadow of her husband nor feel the piercing but fond gaze he stared at the two of them with - giving him a few ideas of his own.

Finally sensing his presence, his sweet wife turned towards him and pinned him with a markedly less than sweet gaze. After returning Maelor to his mother, the princess stood, brushed off her dress, said her goodbyes to the children with the promise of visiting again soon, squeezed Helaena’s hand and strode straight past her dear husband without so much as a look in his direction.

Aemond Targaryen, the incredibly formidable man that he is, immediately turned and followed (and after speaking with her lady in waiting) trailed a step behind knowing that if he got any closer he may well be subject to a more physical attack.

“Sweet wife - ,” his mouth slammed shut, the sound of his teeth clacking together audible as she turned around to face him and he thanked the seven that they’d at least made it to the hall outside their chambers to give a small amount of privacy.

“How can I be of service to my Prince? Shall I draw you a bath, change your linens, perhaps wash them too? After all, your commands should certainly be obeyed by all who rank lower than you lord husband!” and Aemond’s moment of stunned silence was all she needed to turn and push the door to their chambers open, her hair almost whipping Aemond in the face. After clearing his throat and righting his already perfectly placed doublet, the prince followed after his wife. This time the nod to Ser Steffon was slightly more stiff and definitely less cordial.

Upon entering their chambers, it became apparent that his sweet wife was just getting started on his torture as she began shedding her day clothes to ready herself for dinner that night as it had become customary for the royal family to dine together per the Dowager Queen Alicent’s request. As he walked in she turned to look at him, again raising a single eyebrow, a silent demand for him to explain himself and explain he did - after he managed to bring his eye back up to meet hers.

Aemond nervously began to describe how he had to go patrol the city earlier than expected that morrow and after his wife’s further probing he let out a sigh as he admitted that he was hiding something from her but he insisted she could not know. Instead he decided to avert her attention by apologising for his blunt and insensitive instructions, insisting his mind was incredibly preoccupied and he meant none of it.

After a beat, his sweet wife looked back up at him and simply agreed that it was foolish of him before continuing to prepare herself for dinner. With the guilt still weighing down on him, Aemond tried once more to draw a further reaction from her and informed her that “we will not be dining with the family tonight, my heart, it shall just be the two of us so please do not feel obligated to wear something that will placate my mother”. The huff of air Aemond let out could have rivalled Vhagar’s as his Princess finally met his eye and gave a smile of her own.

The Princess very quickly decided that she would never again allow her husband to guide her through the gardens, at dusk, alone with no idea of where on earth he was going. She marvelled at how her Prince had spent the entirety of his life growing up within the walls of the keep while she had only moved here three years past when their betrothal was finalised and yet she knew the gardens a lot better than he did. They walked in silence with the occasional mumble of “I’m sure it was this way”, “perhaps it’s actually that way” and what she is sure sounded like a “seven hells this is so embarrassing”.

Eventually, the Princess abruptly stopped walking causing Aemond to turn back to look at her with wide eyes as though he was expecting her to end the night and head back into the castle (which definitely seems tempting) but instead she drew herself closer to him tracing circles on the back of his hand with her thumb and sweetly asked him to tell her where he wanted to go and she would lead the way. Confusion clouded her eyes when she saw her husband’s gaze darken with disappointment at not being able to keep the location secret before giving a rather reluctant nod and mumbling the area of the gardens.

This again caused her to still, as not long before setting off on their adventure she’d gotten to her favourite scene in the romance novel she was currently re-reading which described the relationship between two lovers from flea bottom snook into the castle’s garden and had a picnic beneath a section where two trees intertwined to look like a heart. She let out a small laugh at the coincidence before leading him in the direction of the garden’s that she learned the trees actually existed in when she went searching after her first time reading the book.

As they stepped through the clearing, fingers interlocked, Aemond’s sweet wife stopped dead in her tracks. The scene before her bringing an onslaught of tears to her eyes and Aemond’s own eye drank in her reaction feeling his chest expand with pride. The scene was exactly as described in the books - granted the royalty version - with a table in the middle of the clearing, the heart trees standing right before it. A small fire was lit as the air was cool and biting and she thanked the gods for giving her a husband intelligent enough to organise for a canopy to be set up over the table. Even the food was some of the meats and fresh fruit described in her book.

After taking it all in, the princess - now thankful for there being no escort - fisted her husband’s nicest leathers and brought him down for a bruising kiss, whispering thank you’s and I love you’s in between.

Aemond’s own heart was beating out of his chest as they finally pulled away from one another and he helped her into her seat before taking his own next to her, never letting go of her hand - not even when they began to eat, opting to do it with his left hand instead, and certainly not as his sweet wife moved from her own seat into his lap, playing with his hair and telling him just how wonderfully he had done.

If you asked anyone who crossed paths with the Prince and Princess that night, they’d tell you that never before had they ever encountered two individuals looking so shamelessly in love. They’d express their shock as they witnessed their Prince, the fierce rider of Vhagar, laugh freely with his lady wife with his arm firmly wrapped around her waist and the Princess’ hand rubbing up and down his back.

As the Prince once again encountered Ser Steffon, he greeted the guard with a slightly more reserved smile than his wife received and instructed him to have a good night while he ushered his giggling wife inside. Once they were out of sight Ser Steffon let out a small chuckle of his own before walking a few paces down the hall, away from the door.

As the very smitten couple climbed into bed the Prince once again asked his sweet wife if everything met her standards to which she simply pulled herself up and decided on showing him how pleased she was instead - but not before ensuring the punishment she decided on earlier was carried out.

#in my fluff era (it probably won’t last long)#angst will always call me back I fear #if anyone sees any typos no you didn't 😭#darktrashsoulbear writes #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #ewan mitchell

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