#John Boswell help me

[janusfranc15]

I like that comparison.

sometimes you guys are extremely strange but i have to forgive you because to me mutualship is like catholic marriage where you have to put up with weird bullshit forever amd you cant get a divorce no matter what

[steampunk-epipen]

A Study in Fear: “The Speckled Band” and “The Final Problem”

There were only ever a handful of occasions when Holmes would ever feel afraid or even question the safety of his and Watson’s cases. One such case was the “Adventure of the Speckled Band.”

This particular case strikes me as most peculiar in how Holmes actually felt. What caused his fear? What led him to sense such dread? And, more importantly, why did he think it was better for him to face this case alone while he and Watson hid inside the greenhouse not 20 metres away from Ms. Stoner’s rooms?

Holmes had already deduced the snake, he knew of the Indian and African origin of said creature, he knew that it was Roylott committing the murders on his poor step-daughters. Any of these could have been the source of all of his anxiety and unsettled words, yet he felt more fear for Watson rather than for himself.

The exact words Holmes used were:

"I have really some scruples as to taking you to-night. There is a distinct element of danger."

Holmes’s penchant for entering dangerous situations was never questioned before, nor has Watson’s penchant for joining Holmes in said dangerous situations—and yet, here we are, seeing the machine, the man who abhorred emotion, flinching in fear at the thought of Watson joining him.

Obviously, other readers will eventually call this a contradiction, as the next few lines go as follows:

W: "Can I be of assistance?"

H: "Your presence might be invaluable."

W: "Then I shall certainly come."

H: “It is very kind of you."

Regardless of the danger they face, Holmes never asked Watson to stay. Watson asked if he should stay and Holmes said yes.

Take note of the wording, too. Watson asked if his “assistance” would be necessary, but Holmes required his “presence.” While, in Victorian England, this should come to mean “Would you like me to stay?”, “Yes, I would like that,” the implication that all Holmes wanted was his Boswell present was enough of a help that Watson realised.

Or perhaps Watson DID know this. His reaction was “then I will certainly come,” indicating that he knew all Holmes needed was his presence.

Watson wanted to be there for Holmes even when Holmes was too scared to admit it or accept it.

In fact, Watson barely did anything in the denouement—it was all Holmes. It was Holmes who beat the stick against the rope. It was Holmes who lit the candle. It was Holmes who solved the case.

And yet, Holmes thanked Watson for his presence. It was Watson who stood fast beside Holmes, it was Watson who drew his revolver at the bell rope, it was Watson on whom Holmes leaned on.

Holmes would have been perfectly capable of solving this case himself, of course, yet he still wanted Watson there. He didn’t care for the account nor did he care that he would admit to being wrong.

What mattered to him was that Watson was there.

Watson may not have done much, if at all, yet it is clear to me that Holmes deeply cared that his friend was there.

In “The Final Problem,” Holmes admitted to his hands shaking in fear because of Moriarty. The man was more myth and legend to him than a normal criminal—someone to be feared once he tried to sink his teeth into you. To Holmes, Moriarty wasn’t just an equal but a genuine threat. This filled him with anxiety, which forced him to turn to the only two people he could trust in a situation that would threaten his life and the lives of those he cares for—his brother, Mycroft, and Dr. John Hamish Watson.

Even then, Holmes kept their involvement to a minimum because he knew he had to face this threat on his own. A tête-à-tête, mano-y-mano.

Mycroft’s involvement was strictly limited to London, as he is “the British Government”.

Watson’s involvement was strictly as a companion—no case, no mystery, no deductions. They were on the run and both knew it. This entire thing was to keep Watson safe: if Holmes had left him behind in London, Moriarty would have gone after him and used him as leverage.

Many times, Watson had noted Holmes’s nervousness and anxiety and tried to reassure him. Coffee, cigarettes, wine or beer, a walk, anything to keep Holmes’s mind off of the case so that he could focus on actually getting away and relaxing, then Mycroft could focus on solving the case (I genuinely wish we could see “The Final Problem” from Mycroft’s perspective).

Then, the fateful letter from his brother:

“Whole gang safely secured. Only Moriarty escaped the net. — Mycroft.”

The words that came out of Holmes’s lips should explain the rest:

“I think it would be better for you to return to England, Watson. You will find me a very dangerous companion, now. He will devote all of his energies to taking his revenge upon me; and if I have a companion—“

Watson’s response surely should illustrate his personality:

“Would you be rid of me? We’ve been in tight places before. I’m not leaving you, Holmes; not unless you order me to go.”

These two men cared about each other more than they’d ever attempt to admit.

Holmes knew his occupation was a dangerous one when he had first invited Watson to join him in “Scarlet,” but always one that was manageable. Holmes was an excellent detective and knew how to manage himself in a fight; Watson was an army medic with plenty of wartime experience and military expertise under his belt. If either one of them was in a scrape, the other would immediately pick up the slack.

Holmes knew Watson would be at risk—either with him in Switzerland or at home in London—but he’d be safer with Mycroft than with him. Fear was clouding much of Holmes’s mind but he had to think critically in order to keep his friend safe.

But what if Holmes had instructed Watson to hide before the final showdown with Moriarty? What if Watson had decided to climb back once the boy that was leading him back to the Englischer Hoff ran away?

Holmes only found out abt Moran after Moriarty had been thrown off. Surely Watson would have been an excellent bait for Moran?

I’m not sure what Moriarty and Moran were thinking.

But I do know this: Holmes wanted Watson safe and vice versa. As much as Watson wanted to stay and help Holmes stay on the grass, Holmes knew there was a threat on the horizon and wanted Watson to enjoy the grass, even if he was on the pavement.

[scotianostra]

18th August 1773 saw Samuel Johnson and James Boswell set out on their three month tour of the Highlands and the Inner Hebrides.

Boswell enticed his famous English friend Samuel Johnson to accompany him on a tour through the highlands and western islands of Scotland.

James Boswell, 9th Laird of Auchinleck was a Scottish biographer, diarist, and lawyer, born in Edinburgh, like many young men he longed to visit the bright lights of London and in 1760 he deserted the family home to live in the English capital for a few months. It was during his second stay in 1762-63 that he met his literary hero and model, the poet, essayist and dictionary maker Dr. Samuel Johnson. In August 1763 Boswell embarked upon a 2½ year Grand Tour of Europe, during which he met many notable men and women, including Voltaire and Rousseau. On returning to Scotland he practised law as an advocate. During this time he made occasional visits London to spend time with Dr Johnson and others of his circle, including Oliver Goldsmith, Sir Joshua Reynolds and Edmund Burke. He was also on familiar terms with David Hume, Adam Smith and other leading figures of the Scottish Enlightenment.

Johnston and Boswell set off less than 30 years after the '45 Uprising, when whisky was still distilled illegally, roads were scarce and travel was by foot, bone-jangling carriage, horseback or over very turbulent seas in a rickety boat.

Their extraordinary journey to the Highlands and the Hebrides during an autumnal season of relentless rain and storms, took Johnson - plump, partially deaf and blind and who had rarely travelled outside of London - on a grand Scottish tour which led to two of the earliest travel books and paved the way for centuries of tourists who would also explore the nation’s wild islands and highland

While for the then 32-year-old Boswell there was a chance to witness Johnson up close for nearly three months, providing a wealth of material for his admired biography, Life of Samuel Johnson. The travel journal was a massive hit and a humorous account of their journey.

Boswell was Scots to his roots and is very defensive about the Scots and Scottishness, while Johnson has this very English take on it all. These two things fuel the humour, Johnson is like this English bulldog and Boswell is like a Scottish terrier. Together they are a hoot! Add to that the facts that as you would expect from a Scotsman, Boswell was a heavy drinker and Johnson was teetotal, which leads to all kinds of escapades. It’s like 18th century Laurel and Hardy.

Boswell, quoted their first conversation in the biography, Life of Samuel Johnson, saying: “Mr Johnson, I do indeed come from Scotland, but I cannot help it”. To which Johnson replied: “That, Sir, I find, is what a great many of your countrymen cannot help.”

It set the scene for a friendship driven by verbal sparring, with Johnson’s deprecating remarks about Scots robustly foiled by Boswell’s defence of homeland.

Their travels began in mid-August at Boyd’s Inn in Edinburgh, where the cleanliness dismayed Johnson. Boswell wrote: “He asked to have his lemonade made sweeter; upon which the waiter, with his greasy fingers, lifted a lump of sugar, and put it into it. The Doctor, in indignation, threw it out of the window”.

The pair then travelled up the east coast, stopping at St Andrews to indulge their interest in John Knox and Mary, Queen of Scots, Following the coast towards Aberdeenshire, a bit like today’s NC500 tourists plotting their route, they took an anti-clockwise course along the Moray Coast to Inverness and then to the Western Isles.

At times their journey resembled a lengthy pub crawl as they noted the quality of the inns and the food.

In Montrose, Johnson noted: “At our inn we did not find a reception such as we thought proportionate to the commercial importance of the place; but Mr Boswell desired me to observe the innkeeper was an Englishman, and I then defended him as well as I could.” Dundee, it was noted, was “dirty, despicable”. They even recorded their first taste of Arbroath smokies.

Having travelled through Glen Shiel, the pair arrived at the inn at Glenelg. Often praised today, Boswell and Johnson gave it the equivalent of a one-star TripAdvisor review. Having arrived “wearing and peevish”, they discovered “no meat, no milk, no bread, no eggs, no wine. We did not express much satisfaction.”

The Highland terrain posed even greater stress. Dangerous and often impassable except on foot, they were often in remote spots, miles from inns or shelter or ankle deep in a peat bog. Nevertheless, they trudged on through stormy weather and with Johnson often suffering from colds, increasing deafness and seasickness on the journeys between the islands.

The trip from Coll to Skye was undertaken during a vicious storm, with Boswell fretting over whether the boat might sink or explode, and troubled that he couldn’t understand the sailors’ Gaelic! Johnson was no great fan of the language, describing it as “the rude speech of a barbarous people, who had few thoughts to express, and were content, as they conceived grossly, to be grossly understood”.

But in Skye, they were delighted to meet Flora MacDonald, and slept in the same room that Bonnie Prince Charlie had slept in. “Both were over the moon because they were besotted with the story,” he wrote.

Don’t judge Johnson on his dislike of the Gaelic language though, the pair told of finding the Highlands still occupied by military garrisons, cleared by immigration and spoke of the suppression of Highland culture and oppression of the clans.

The isle of Raasay turned out to be a favourite spot, where the pair enjoyed the clan chief’s hospitality and a raucous ceilidh, with Boswell dancing a jig on the flat summit of Dun Caan. Both felt that in Raasay they had come close to authentic old Gaelic culture and way of life.

By October 1773 they were in the Saracen Head Inn in Glasgow’s Gallowgate, revelling in a roaring coal fire and conversation with professors from Glasgow University.

The trip would come to a sorry end, however, at Boswell’s family’s Ayrshire home at Johnson and Boswell’s father had an enormous row; they were total opposites in religious and political beliefs,

Johnson was a kind of father figure to Boswell. He knew Boswell could be a bit out of hand, but he also knew he was a real literary talent.”

Johnson’s A Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, was published in 1775, followed a exactly decade later by Boswell’s The Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides with Samuel Johnson. Both wrote their own versions of their tour differently. They go to the same places but see things differently.

[m0th-t33th]

i love sherlock holmes and fucking hate bbc sherlock . please rant about "id be lost without my favourite blogger"

OHHHH MMY GOOOD LORD. OKAY. FUUCK DUDE.

ok. ok. so. the change from 'i am lost without my boswell' -sherlock holmes, a scandal in bohemia to 'i'd be lost without my Blogger.' -bbc sherlock, the great game makes me SO MAD.

so. in a scandal in bohemia its been like... a While since holmes and watson have been together, yeah? cuz watson got the wife and whatnot. and generally, holmes is a bit stand-offish. just a bit weird, kind of rude and whatnot. watsons a bit.. unsure, of where he stands with holmes most of the time because of it. so. when he says the Best Line Ever, its holmes like.. actually being nice. and actually wants watson there. (plus also, keep in mind this is like.. not THAT long after theyve met. watson doesnt have the proper vibe on holmes yet)

and it doesnt stop with that, either. he gets PHYSICAL with watson. making him stay. and says to the client, who was a bit iffy with having watson there, 'no. you talk to both of us or you get no help.'

so. he clearly wants watson to stick around, yeah? 'i am lost without my boswell' is clearly him being genuine, yeah?

now we look at bbc sherlock. (horrible, by the way)

whats the context. um... sherlock was taking the piss out of mycroft (???) and is bored or something. gets a phonecall from lestrade saying they have a case, so he gets up and grabs his blazer or whatever. he asks if john is coming. john responds with 'of course. if you want me to?' uneasy. probly doesnt think sherlock actually wants him there (why would he? sherlocks forever pissy at him and fully just acts like he hates him. insults him and everything) and sherlock responds with.. 'id be lost without my blogger.' ok. in text it seems... fine? bit weird but... fine, i guess. HOWEVER. watch a clip of his line delivery.

he sounds... sarcastic. as if hes taking the piss a bit. 'id be lost. without my Blogger.' doesnt sound sincere. and yeah, ok maybe this is cumberbatch butchering the line but like.. if we even Look at the past interactions between sherlock and john?

sherlock insults john, pretty much always calling him an idiot or something similar. not ONCE has he been kind to him. he doesnt NEED john to be here, either. he doesnt have to talk cases out with him - sherlock doesnt have to talk to ANYONE. he just has to talk out loud (hence the skull). all john does when joining sherlock is just... stands there. he just fukcing stands there and calls sherlock brilliant and Thats It.

whereas, in the books, holmes really does benefit from talking things out with watson. he needs someone to bounce off of, and i doubt the inspectors were very helpful with that, given how they run off with the stupidest solutions (a study in scarlet - rachel) plus, im pretty sure watson being a doctor is actually helpful, too.

so. when sherlock says the phrase 'id be lost without my blogger' hes just... taking the piss. hes not using it as a secret way to be kind. its just.... nothing. to him. sherlock doesmt even LIKE johns blog. doesnt like him typing up cases either, i dont think.

and like. he hasnt. been without john, either. this line makes no sense with how its used in the show. hes saying he would be lost without john but he... wouldnt be. he has no reason to htink he would be, either. [points back to the fact john does fuck all while on cases] he has no reason to say this. if he was without john, hed still get cases done. if anything, hed probably get them done faster because hes not whinging about how stupid john is.

again, in the original story, holmes says this AFTER hes already experienced working cases without watson again, and we quite easily get the impression that it fucking sucks - working cases without watson. he wouldnt be extremely eager to have watson join in on this case if he didnt care that much, if he thought he could do it on his own.

but with bbc sherlock, sherlock hasnt worked a case solo since meeting john, because they fucked with the timeline. this episode came BEFORE the episode based on the story where the damn fucking line came from, for fucks sake. so sherlock has literally no reason to think hed be lost without john.

so its clearly just a piss take. and you can Tell with the tone of the clip, too. its just. [PUNCHES THE WALL]

fuck dude. 'i am lost without my boswell' has so much love and care shoved into it. holmes CLEARLY cares about his friend watson and he MISSED HIM. HES SO EAGER TO HAVE HIM BACK FOR A CASE LIKE COME ONNN.

and they ruined it. fucking ruined it by turning it into a sarcastic piss take of 'id be lost without my blogger' like FUUUCKKK OOFFFFF. SHUUT UUPPPPPPP, NO ONE LIKES YOUUUU.

god. um. anyway. yeah. thats my rant. bbc sherlock pisses me off so bad and its kind of insane! this is only ONE of my big boy complaints about the show, too. like christ dude. its so bad.

i need everyone who watched bbc sherlock to go back and actually read the original stories because fuckign hell. they are pure GOLD compared to the complete and total bullshit that is the show.

[vivianleighwishesshewasme]

Bought by a Shelby

A Finn Shelby story

Bought by a Shelby

**********************************************************

Finn Shelby and Letitia Loughty. 

”Why are we here freezing our arses off ?” Finn asked, clearly annoyed at being drug up the snow-covered mountains. It was fall in Birmingham, no snow had fallen yet and with all the smog and hot industry, winter usually came a bit late in the section Finn lived in. 

He should have been happy to breathe some fresh air and get out of that frigid little apartment Tommy and Arthur had given him after the whole vendetta fiasco. 

Tommy had rudely woken everyone up and told them a plan that he’d known about for weeks. Apparently, he needed a new expansion and with Esme Lee, Boswells and Gold families refusing to be drugged into any more of his schemes, they needed to extend to gypsy camps outside of their family for help. 

“We already told you finn, we're here to do business and you are a part of that business.” Tommy said flatly as he tugged his gloves over his hands hoping  to keep some heat from escaping his body. Even he would admit it was a bone chilling day with the wind whipping and biting into any exposed flesh it could touch. 

Arthur and Tommy had built a fire which was raging at this point yet no one was warm. Ada had brought thermos filled with hot Cocoa. The cold was freezing the outside of the metal just leaving chocolate flavored water. Finn was ready to go. Expanding the gypsy hand of influence was silly as far as he was concerned. There were plenty of ambitious young lads in Birmingham who’d be happy to be paid to do whatever Blinders business they needed to do. 

“Aren’t you the one complaining that you wanted to be a legitimate business partner? You need to go outside the office once and get some fresh air.” Ada chastised him, gently poking him in the ribs. He glared at her and she rolled her eyes while the elder brothers chuckled. He hated feeling that he was taking in all their teasing, he was, but he didn't want to be. 

“I think I've breathed enough cold air to last me a lifetime Arthur.” He cocked off his mouth earning a finger waving from Tom warning him to be respectful. 

“Maybe Tommy will find you  a little gypsy wife to form an alliance with her family Finn, follow in John's footsteps. Form an alliance through a family and then we can all go home after the wedding.” Ada chirped and earned grins from her brother, all except Finn. 

“Yeah, that worked out great didn’t it.” He sneered. He hadn’t meant for it to come out as scalding and scathing as it had. All three turned to look at him, clearly surprised by his attitude. He knew he should be grateful for the opportunity and he was. John was still a sore spot for him. Out of all the siblings, Finn, Ada and John were the ones most full of life. They constantly teased and ribbed playfully at one another. Arthur and Tommy were too serious after the war. 

“I can still hear you Finn.” Tommy glared at him. His cold steely gaze did not leave the younger man's face. Finn refused to look away. He’d been dealt with or dismissed too much in the past to be intimidated by any of it anymore. 

“Boys, here we go. We're a united unit, remember” Ada said smiling at the approaching clan that were emerging from the treeline.

Finn scoffed and rolled his eyes, they were never a united unit. Wouldn’t be until this generation retired. 

“Gentlemen welcome, we build a fire, please, gather around and hear our proposition. 

“ Hatman, Temple, Nithercott, Loughty, are we all accounted for?” Tommy asked, clasping his hands as the Shelby's stood across from the fire waiting for all the members to nod or speak. 

Finn was exhausted, this was going to be a very long and very cold day. 

______________________________________________________________

 Three hours, three tedious and semi productive hours of sitting on frost covered logs, the cold seeping in through his arse while they went in circles reaffirming the offer or rejecting offers only to end up agreeing on the first propositions mentioned twenty minutes in. Finn hated the delegations. He didn’t have the patience for it much, preferring to be in on the action. 

He saw Ada rubbing her temples, she was even over it. He smiled at her sympathetically.

“ I gotta go piss.” He stood as she shook her head at his gruffness. He turned heading to the stream away from all the eyes at camp. 

He’d just finished on a tree and turned to rinse his hands not looking forward to the icy cold water in front of him. A wide open slow moving river stretched out in front of him winding through the mountains. He bet it looked beautiful in the summer when it was warm and teaming with life and color. 

Finn didn’t hate nature like his brothers assumed. He just enjoyed the comforts he’d grown accustomed to like insulated walls, coal burning fires and houses. 

 He froze watching several ladies approaching to dip wooden buckets into the stream. Old and young gathered scattered throughout.

One caught his attention though, she wasn’t as beautiful as the others in a common sense. She was striking to him however. Long bone white bleached hair hung mostly loose around her face. Two black cords tied tightly to show her red chapped lips and her dark brown eyes, warm like the tree bark promising spring. She blushed and turned away from him gathering water and whispering to the other two champagne blondes near her. They all bore a resemblance and seemed close in age, sister perhaps. Finn smiled at her hoping to catch her eye again. He hoped she didn't have brothers. He wouldn't mind ferret her out and striking up a conversation.

He had a fiance back home, the back of his mind was trying to compare the two. There wasn’t a comparison to be found.

 Myra wasn't a particularly tall, fashionable thing with short red hair and piercing green eyes. She was spunky, mischievous and eager to live with Finn because of his gangster lifestyle. They always had a good time together whether causing trouble or messing around in his apartment

This mountain girl was of average height and built as far as he could tell with all the blankets she had draped over her. Nothing but her eyes and hair were of a particular draw. She stood away from him by the other women, a good gypsy girl, probably a virgin. Whatever she knew of sex came from animal husbandry, he didn’t see any animals though. Probably too cold he thought bitterly. He lifted a cigarette to his mouth and lit it, placing his freezing cold lighter back in his pocket. At least this was a comfort.

“See something you like?” Finn looked around trying to find the reedy thin old voice that had just intruded his thoughts. 

He tried not to back away as a hunched over old woman placed her hand on his. She squeezed his arms and his bicep. He smiled warmly at her. Even for a handsy old woman she had some irresistible charm. He shook his head and smiled down at her, mindful to not blow smoke in her face.

“Just looking around.” He replied, turning his head back to the young woman. The one he’d been watching was gone. He didn’t realize it but he was scanning around to see if he could spot her.

“You should look again. I’m sure she’s closer than you think.” She patted his arm after cryptically speaking and hobbled off rather quickly to Finn's surprise. 

[izabesworld]

Hello, it's me again!

I hope it's not a bother, but I am having a slight issue with my fanfiction and was wondering if you might be able to help.

In the chapter I am writing right now, there's a big family gathering at Lizzie's house. I would love to include John and Esme's children in the story, but as far as I know and, the only one whose name is apparently mentioned is Katie, who could be one of the four children from John's previous marriage.

I have tried looking up the rest of the kids' names (there are six or seven altogether) but according to the sources I've gone to, including the Peaky Blinders Wiki, none of the other children's names are mentioned.

Therefore, I would love some ideas on names!

Once again, thank you in advance. :)

I LOVE MAKING NAMES OH MY DAYSSS!!! Thank you so much for asking me this…

Romani names

👧🏻Kezia - a traditional name that came about in the 1800’s.

👧🏻Mercedes - I’ve never seen a Romani family without a Mercedes, it was going to be my name 🤣…

👧🏻Dolly

👦🏻Boonie - I think it’s is Romanian Roma but it’s definitely one I’ve seen.

👧🏻Carmen-Maria - I’m not sure why this one is popular but the amount of Carmen-Maria’s about could populate iceland.

👧🏻 Anastasiia

You could also look into the Shelby family tree, as we often repeat names!

So, one may be Charlie after Charlie Strong, one may be Birdie after Birdie Boswell, even the brothers, one could be Finn or Arthur.

For example, my name is a great grandmothers and then my two middle names are both my grandmothers. My brother is my grandads name and then a 2nd great grandad for his middle name.

There could be:

Charlie Arthur Shelby

Martha Ada Shelby

Birdie Martha Shelby / Birdie Martha Ada Shelby

Charlie Michael Shelby

OR - with them being English Romani, they often have “English” names that aren’t very English.

Esmeralda, Britannia, Naomie, Queenie, Bohemia.

Biblical names are big - Matthew is a HUGE one, Abrahama, Matthew-Michael etc etc…

Thank you for this ask, I hope it was at least semi-helpful. Have an amazing and blessed day!! 💗💗

[k2ntwo]

OK folks...have at it. My answers are under the cut.

Feel free to tag anyone and everyone in the fandom. Answer as many or as few as you like. I'm curious as to how we all got here.

@totallysilvergirl @bluebellofbakerstreet @helloliriels @peanitbear @inevitably-johnlocked @contact-guy

1.  Favorite canon quote?  The classic “when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable must be the truth” (SIGN).  However, if you ask me tomorrow it might be different.

2.  Favorite/least favorite canon story?  My favorite is the Devil’s Foot (DEVI) for its subtle Three Garridebs (3GAR) moment.  My least favorite is the Dying Detective (DYIN) due to Holmes’ outright abuse of Watson.

3.  What got you into Sherlock Holmes?  In the days before the advent of the young adult fiction genre a youngster (me) read their way through the entire children’s section of the local library.  Wandering around the “adult” section of the library this youngster discovered both the mystery and science fiction sections.  Holmes is, of course, ubiquitous in the former and often mentioned in the latter.  That lead me to the canon books and I fell in love with the Detective and his Boswell.

4.  Favorite/least favorite adaptation?  Grenada Holmes is my favorite.  Holmes & Watson with Will Ferrell is my least favorite.

5.  Most niche Holmes adaptation you’ve consumed?  The BraveStar episode that was spun off into Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century.

6.  Favorite Holmes portrayal?  Jeremy Brett

7.  Favorite Watson portrayal?  Martin Freeman

8.  Holmes & Watson or Holmes/Watson?  Both!

9.  Do you write/read Holmes fanfiction?  Oh yes.  Both read and write.

10.  Favorite Holmes fanfiction?  Too many to count.  Look at my AO3 bookmarks for what I like best. 

11.  Headcanon about Holmes?  My favorite is that Victorian Holmes is both gay and demi sexual.

12.  Headcanon about Watson?  Watson would be one of the smartest people in any given room, except that he happens to be standing next to Sherlock Holmes.

13.  Something you wish more people understood about Sherlock Holmes?  That he wasn’t an emotionless misogynistic prick in the original stories.  In fact, he often showed quite a bit of empathy to the victims of crimes, especially women, who requested his help.

14.  Who do you relate to more, Holmes or Watson or both?  I hear John Watson’s voice quite clearly; Holmes, not so much.

15.  Do you draw Sherlock Holmes fan art?  No.

16.  Favorite Sherlock Holmes fan art?  See @bluebellofbakerstreet and @contact-guy for two.

17.  How long have you been into Sherlock Holmes.  Not telling, it would date me badly.

18.  Favorite piece of Sherlock Holmes related trivia?  Baritsu was not a martial art, ACD invented it and then a guy named Edward Barton-Wright actually developed it.

19.  Favorite Sherlock Holmes supporting character?  Lestrade.

20.  Favorite Sherlock Holmes villain?  Don’t really have one.

1. Favourite canon quote?

2. Favourite canon story/least favourite canon story? (Either question optional)

3. What got you into Sherlock Holmes - the books or an adaptation? If adaptation, which one?

4. Favourite adaptation/least favourite adaptation? (Either question optional)

5. Most niche Sherlock Holmes adaptation you've consumed?

6. Favourite Holmes portrayal?

7. Favourite Watson portrayal?

8. Holmes & Watson or Holmes/Watson? Or both?

9. Do you write/read Sherlock Holmes fanfiction?

10. If you read fanfiction, favourite Sherlock Holmes fanfiction?

11. Headcanon about Holmes? (And do you have any favourites?)

12. Headcanon about Watson? (And do you have any favourites?)

13. What is something you wish more people knew/understood about Sherlock Holmes?

14. Who do you tend to relate to more - Holmes or Watson? Both?

15. Do you draw Sherlock Holmes fanart?

16. Favourite piece of Sherlock Holmes fanart? (Either by yourself or another fanartist)

17. How long have you been into Sherlock Holmes?

18. Favourite piece of Sherlock Holmes related trivia?

19. Favourite Sherlock Holmes supporting/one off character?

20. Favourite Sherlock Holmes villain?

[theshelbyclan]

Horse Thieves

Summary: The Shelby siblings are still building their imperium, and they need a horse to do it.

(Gif by @madshelby​)

A/N: I asked around a bit and people wanted to read a lot more about Teddy, so I decided to use this request by one lovely anon: Hello! I've never done a request for a fic before so please excuse me if this isn't the right way to do it 🙈 But I noticed your requests were open and read the prompts list you linked to for Shelby sister prompts - so can I request something that incorporates 7.“car. Now”, 8.“what story do you want tonight” and 14.“your heading the right way for a smacked backside”. Thank you! I decided to base this on this idea I had in the longer Teddy series, where she refers to a time when she stole a horse with Tommy. So see this as a prequel if you will, set before the series. Words: 2773

*** “Whatever you do, you’re not using Finn.” “I won’t…” “I mean it, Thomas,” Aunt Polly warned, “You’ve only been back for five minutes from France and I will not have you endangering my nephew, after I’ve kept him safe for fucking four years.” 

Tommy sighed, “Yes, I understand.” Polly looked at her nephew with a distrustful gaze, “Why do we need the horse?” “Betting’s down,” he slowly lit a cigarette, “We need our own. A horse that looks good. Convinces people to lay a bet.” She had to agree with that, “Where will you go?” “To the place where people most expect a horse to be stolen.” “Why?” “Hide in plain sight,” he pointed, “you taught me that.” “I thought I taught you everything…” Polly mused sternly. Tommy nodded slowly, “Maybe. And now I’m acting on it…” After a short pause, he said, “I’m gonna do it, Pol. I’ll make this family rich. Trust me.” “What about the little ones?” “I’m doing this for them, alright, so that they won’t have to grow up like we did!” Fire was burning in his eyes when he spoke, but Polly had never seen him quite like this. He was different these days. After pondering for a while, she said, “So tell me where.” Tommy took a deep breath, knowing she’d disapprove, “The fair.” “For fuck’s sake, Thomas!” *** “WELCOME TO THE FAIR!” Arthur bellowed, which scared most people in his vicinity away, but it made Teddy, who was used to it, literally jump for joy. Arthur grinned broadly and lifted his little sister up onto his shoulders, shouting, “Now look here, sweet girl, this is where we bloody come from and don’t you forget it!” “Arthur, can I have a candied apple?” Teddy asked him, knowing he wouldn’t refuse her anything when he was in a mood like this. “You can have all the apples, Teddy!” he replied with a grand gesture. John came walking besides them and quietly said to his brother, “They’re here.” “Good,” Arthur said uncharacteristically gently, and he lifted Teddy off his shoulders again, “Tommy’s in place.” “What about Finn, Arthur?” he said, playing with his toothpick. Arthur winked at his suddenly much younger brother, “Don’t worry, brother. He’s off playing with the Boswell kids. He’ll be no bloody trouble.” John grinned down at Teddy, “Unlike this one!” “You know why, John?” Teddy asked cheekily, “Because Finn is like Arthur, but I am like you!” John laughed manically out loud and Arthur bellowed, “She’s fucking right!” “How about that apple, Arthur?” Teddy asked innocently, quickly adding a, “Please?” “Wait here, princess.” As they continued walking, John took Teddy’s hand in his and said to her, “Look at all the horses, Teddy. Maybe one day you could have one of your own.” “But I already have the pony you gave me when you came back,” she looked up with adoring eyes. It was no secret that Teddy had four heroes in life, and those were her brothers. He looked down, “Yeah, but one day you’ll have a horse. Promise.” “John?” she asked, suddenly serious, “You won’t go away again, will you?” “Go where? Why would I leave my favourite little girl!” “You did before…” John stopped and turned to her, “Listen, that was the war… You know I don’t like talking about that…” “I know…” “But the war’s over. No more fucking mud for us, alright?” he said earnestly. He tried desperately to hide the pain he felt. Teddy nodded. “I’m sorry,” John blurted out all of a sudden, “I’m sorry we left you. We didn’t know… what it’d be… we thought it would be…” he simply couldn’t find the words. “I know,” she interrupted him in a high voice, “It’s okay. Just don’t do it again, alright?” “Alright,” he smiled. Then he changed his tone again, happy to switch subjects, “Now, what story do you want tonight?” “One about a horse!” “How about we get you a real one?” John suggested light-heartedly.

Teddy giggled because she thought he was joking, slipped her hand into his again and started skipping. Then she looked over at Arthur, who was just in the process of stealing an apple for her. It was good to have her brothers back again. 

“Teddy?” John asked, “think you could do something for me?” “Like what?” “Tommy needs our help.” “With what?” her eyebrows shot up. John coughed once and waited for Arthur to join them, “Eat your apple. And listen, Tommy needs us to help him with something.” Mouth full of candied apple, “whaff kinf of somefingff?” “Just do as we tell you to,” John explained, “and then Tommy’ll tell you what to do.” Arthur nodded, “He’s already instructed us.” “Arthur,” John became unsure, “Are we really involving our eight-year-old sister in this?” “She’ll be fine, John-boy! She’s fucking smart, she is.” “I am,” Teddy replied proudly. The candied apple was nearly gone already.

“Alright, Teddy-girl, you listen to me, yeah?” John bend down to her level, “I need you to pretend you got lost, or maybe ask for help, or cry! Can you cry?” Teddy sniffled a little, “I’m not sure,” she then said in her normal voice. “Don’t worry if you can’t! Just scream a lot, alright?” “Wait!” she said, “Give me a second….” And she pouted her lips again, scrunched up her nose and suddenly tears were falling down her cheeks. “Bloody hell…” Arthur mumbled, as he turned to John, “you fucking created a monster.” “I’m crying!” Teddy said triumphantly through her tears, “Now what?” John shook her head to banish the emotions he felt over seeing his baby sister cry, “Go to Tommy.” Teddy quickly darted off and went in search of her other brother. When she found him, she announced herself with, “Look, Tommy, real tears!” “What the fuck?” Tommy replied in shock, “What happened, tell me now!” “Nothing!” she quipped, “John made me.”   “I’ll fucking kill him,” her brother said automatically, “Did he throw you up in the air again?” Teddy grinned, “No, and besides that doesn’t make me cry…” “It did when you broke your arm.” She waved a disinterested hand, “Fine. But I mean he told me to cry because you needed a disattraction! “Distraction.” “Yes!” Tommy knelt down and said in a hushed voice, “Alright, first things first, you can never, ever tell Aunt Polly about this, do you hear me?” Teddy nodded obediently. “I mean it Teddy. She’ll have my fucking balls…” A high voice replied, “Which balls?” He sighed deeply again, regretting his words intensely, “Listen to me, eh? Don’t tell Aunt Pol.” “I will,” but a vague twinkle had come into Teddy’s eyes the second she realised her big tough brother was scared of Aunt Polly too.

Tommy lifted up Teddy and she rested on his hip, hugged close by his arm. She could vaguely smell his hair, his cigarette and a whiff of horse on him. This was her brother, who’d been gone for two whole years. She was only little when he’d gone, but Teddy remembered she cried a lot. All she ever wanted at night was for John to play with her and for Arthur to sit with her and for Tommy to tell her stories. She and Finn used to curl up together and cry. But now he was home, not the same, but still home.

“See them?” Tommy pointed, with a smile playing about his lips like he used to have all the time before the war, “See that family?” Teddy followed his hand with her eyes, “Yeah, the ones with the man with the blue scarf?” “That’s the one,” he nodded, “I need you to distract them.” “Why?” “So I can take their horse.” Teddy turned to face Tommy, and as she grinned, his face lit up as well, “Are we going to steal the horse, Tommy?” Teddy whispered excitedly. “Yes.” She lowered her voice even more, “just you and me?” Softly, he planted a kiss on her head, “Can’t do it without you…” Couldn’t do any of this without you here, he thought, but didn’t say it. “Alright,” he continued, “I’m going to talk to the man with the scarf. Meanwhile, John and Arthur are going to pick a fight with some other men, over by the candied apples, you see?” “That’s why I got an apple…” Teddy mused, slightly disappointed. Tommy quickly got her attention back, “I’ll be talking to him about this other family I know,” he waved a hand, “it’ll be something useless, but I’ll get him to walk away. John-boy is itching to punch someone, so he will, don’t get scared, alright?” Teddy frowned, “I’m not scared of John.” “Now, you see that horse, the black one, by the water?” She peered through the crowd of people and finally caught a glimpse of the beauty. Her eyes lit up in a way that only the Shelby’s eyes light up when looking at a horse. “There’s two boys with him. I need you to go to them. Make sure they walk away from the horse.” “Tommy…” Teddy thought out loud, “Won’t they know it was us?” He smirked at his sister’s intellect, “No. They don’t know us. Besides, they’re feuding with another family here. There’s a war coming, but we won’t be involved this time. Don’t worry about it, eh?” “Why are they fighting, Tommy?” she was not letting it go so easily. “Because I made it happen.” Then he walked a few feet so that they were both hidden from sight, “Now, I need you to distract the boys, and maybe some of the women as well. Cry, if you can, and if anything goes wrong, scream. I know you’re good at that…” “Who will take the horse?” “Johnny Dogs will. He’s close by,” Tommy leaned his forehead onto Teddy’s, “Think you can do it?” “Yes!” “Not too scared?” “Never!” Teddy replied enthusiastically, which slightly worried Tommy, but instead he said, “Go on.” So Teddy walked out behind the tent on her own and started thinking sad thoughts, just to make the tears come easily later on. There wasn’t much need for them though, because as soon as she approached the boys who were washing the horse, one called out, “Piss off!” “Fuck you!” Teddy replied in a flash, “This is free land and I’m a free woman!” she heard Aunt Polly say that once, “I’ll go where I fucking please!” One of the boys pushed her and angrily Teddy shoved him back. Then the second one came for her, and Teddy suddenly remembered her mission. So against all of her instincts, she let herself be pushed to the ground and started howling as soon as she landed. Immediately heads turned and Teddy cried like she hadn’t done in two years, “They pushed me!” But somewhere from out the corner of her eye, she saw Arthur arguing with someone and John landing a punch, almost in slow-motion, and she knew everything went according to plan. “Did not!” the boy protested nervously, “she started it!” Teddy curled up a little and held onto her leg like it was hurting, while trying to make herself as small as possible, “It hurts…” “What have you done!” a strange woman called out to one of the boys, who shrunk visibly as soon as he heard her voice, “fighting little girls now, are you?!” “I didn’t, ma! She started it!” but before he could finish his sentence, he’d gotten the first smack around the head. One down, one more to go. So Teddy upped the tears and it worked beautifully: the second boy didn’t wait for his mother to hear, but decided to run instead. Slowly, Teddy started to calm down, because if she just stood up now and showed it was all fake, everything would’ve been for nothing. She made that mistake once with Finn, and she wouldn’t be doing so again. After about a minute, chaos had descended on the fair. Men were fighting, Tommy was making an already nervous man simply anxious and this side of the camp was almost deserted. But where was Johnny? Teddy got up and hid near the beautiful horse. And then she saw him: somehow Johnny had ended up in the middle of the fight as well. This could ruin everything! “Come,” Teddy beckoned, “Come here! I promise I won’t hurt you…” and much to her own surprise, the horse obeyed. She untied the reigns and like he’d always been hers, he followed her down into the river. Teddy swam a little, wondered for only a second what Aunt Polly would say, and then climbed up onto the horse’s back in the water. From there on, she made a quick decision and urged the horse on. The river was low and couldn’t be seen all the way from the camp, so she kept the route of invisibility. After a while, she spurred the horse on and he climbed the riverside, with the tiny load still on his back. From this distance, Teddy could still see the fair, but because of the trees she was certain they couldn’t see her. “Now what?” she asked the horse, because she hadn’t really thought this through. In reply it neighed. “Shh!” Teddy scolded, “you want me to get caught?” So she steered the horse by its manes and made her way to where the family car was parked. With some luck, everyone else would still be too busy fighting. *** “Teddy!” Teddy turned her head and saw her brothers running, with sheer panic in their eyes. “Where the fuck were you?” Tommy demanded. Teddy shrunk a little at the anger in his voice, “I didn’t know where to go so I went here…” “Car. Now!” Tommy fumed. “That was actually smart, Tom,” Arthur defended her. Tommy ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “I thought something happened to you… That’s why I tell you not to leave my fucking side!” “I’m sorry…” she whimpered and tears started forming in her eyes again. “Don’t even try that,” John joked, “We know you can pretend now.” Looking caught, Teddy tried to hide the smile she shared with John. “That’s it, Tom,” Arthur walked back and forth to get rid of the adrenaline still coursing through his body, after they found there little sister was missing, “We’re not using our bloody sister again, for anything!” “Agreed,” Tommy said at once. “I thought you wanted the horse?” Teddy questioned. Again Tommy sighed and he lit another cigarette, “No fucking horse is worth losing you over, Teddy.” And that’s when she realised he wasn’t angry, just worried. “No fucking horse,” Arthur agreed. “But…” she started. John interrupted, “Forget about the horse, Teddy, we’re just glad you’re okay.” “But…” “Besides, we can get a horse some other way, eh?” Tommy continued, “Might even pay for it…” “But…” Tommy held up a hand, “Stop interrupting me, Teddy.” Instead Teddy interrupted him, “But the fucking horse is fucking here!” she pointed beyond the car at the woods, “Look! I rode him here after Johnny didn’t show up!” “I’ll be fucking damned,” Arthur blurted out, “she rode the fucking horse here.” John burst out laughing and simply high-fived Teddy, but Tommy looked as stunned as Arthur did. Anxiously, Teddy waited for Tommy’s reply, occasionally saying things like, “Johnny wasn’t coming,” and “my tears were almost dried up,” and “it wasn’t really my fault, the horse just followed me!” “Teddy Shelby,” Tommy said finally, “you little horse thief…” “You told me to,” Teddy said pointedly, but couldn’t quite hide the pride in her voice. “Oh, so this is our fault, eh?” Teddy shrugged and put on an angelic face, “Well, Arthur taught me how to steal, John taught me how to cry and you told me what to do…”

He pointed at her, “You’re heading the right way for a smacked backside...” Again Tommy looked at the horse and then he coughed a short laugh, “Alright, you win. We’re all horse thieves. Go get your horse.” “Mine?” “Yours.” As Teddy got the horse, the brothers still couldn’t get over the fact that she just did all of that. “Before we go home, there’s just one more thing, Teddy,” Tommy said, “Tell me again what I made you promise.” “Don’t tell Aunt Polly about this.” “Or?” he said menacingly, hoping he still had some authority over her by usually being the one who punished her, when he wasn’t teaching her how to steal that is… “She’ll have your balls.” Tommy eyed his two brothers who doubled over in laugher, but decided to ignore that. “Good girl.”

*** Masterlist

[evita-shelby]

Between the Shadow and the Soul

Chapter 19

"You aren’t dying, Evie.” he tells her as if he could stop it. As long as Angel Changretta was unharmed her husband believed he had a chance to change fate.

Polly had called telling him John had beaten Angel to an inch of his life.

Vincente Changretta had tried to order Luca home, Luca who could be bringing in more men according to Sabini’s wife. Strange how once upon a time they were enemies and now Annie Sabini and Eva Shelby organized playdates for the children. This time she called scared and with the unspoken blessing of her husband.

“We’ll have three more children, scandalize Mary until she quits her job and we’ll be old and gray when we finally die.” it's their mantra now, he said it when she was frightened, she said to him when he was and now, he says it when he knows her death will be his fault.

“I’ll need more sage, the evil deeds those Russians did is so much an exiled gypsy cursed their jewels.” she lights her smudge stick, she has like ten of each and always three in her little wooden box by the vanity. She cleanses the sapphire, it was too pretty to get ride off and Eva was a witch after all, so far there hasn’t been anything she can’t cleanse of evil.

“The Russians want me out of the way, so you’ll be weak enough to kill.” It was actually a pretty weak curse given her copper bracelet had been enough to break some of it. Now all she had to do was pray in Nahuatl as the smudge stick purifies the air. There is a witch visiting at the Patch, she might help her remove all traces of the curse by Friday night.

And if that doesn’t work then her swan song had to be perfect.

“You’re not wearing it to the party.” he orders as if he doesn’t know what type of woman he married.

“Oh, no, after Bethany Boswell finishes cleansing the stone, I’m going to wear it. I want to show them what happens when they fuck around with a witch.”

It would be all over the globe: MEXICAN SOCIALITE SHOT AT HER OWN CHARITY PARTY. It would be on the front pages because it will be a slow news week and Mexico will be outraged because Eva Shelby will tell her childhood friend who happens to be former President Benito Juarez’s granddaughter. Not that she and Maria Cristina Sanchez Juarez had ever been close, but they did know each other.

“I won’t let them hurt you, not the Italians and not the Russians.” he promises her, taking the hand not holding the smudge stick.

“I know you won’t, and I won’t let it happen either. The curse was pretty weak if my bracelet was enough to weaken it.” Eva gives him a reassuring smile and puts the sapphire necklace back in its box. “I’ll still get shot, but honestly it won’t be the first time someone’s shot me. You’ve seen the scar on my thigh and the one on my hand, Tom.”

It won’t be the first and it wouldn’t be the last.

“I’ll be fine. Tatiana Petrovna might not be if she flirts too much with you, but I’ll live and bring in so much publicity to the charity the orphanage will look like Buckingham Palace by the time it's done.” she tries to be funny, usually helps lighten the mood, but this time it doesn't work.

---

“Your bangle is blessed, you know, your mother loved you so much she put a very strong protection spell in it.” Bethany Boswell analyzes the bracelet. It was a beautiful thing of an inch and a half and carved with flowers.

“I’ve suspected the same, she gave it to me after my sister died in childbirth.” Eva nods, she had left it in her wooden box and only wore it after her uncle Aurelio paid a king’s ransom to get her inside Mexico City. “Is the sapphire still cursed, I am not versed in that part of my magical heritage I did as best as I could.”

Curses were not universal, the language and the origin of the person mattered greatly when it comes to breaking them.

“It's gone, it was not put carefully, and the bangle is more than enough to stop it from happening. I recommend wearing it on a copper chain, I have one with a protection spell to counter gypsy curses.” Bethany reaches to her safe box of valuable wares and Eva prepares to hand over the money to pay it.

Money’s barely on the table and the little leather pouch the chain is in her hand when one of the Lee girls, barges into the woman’s caravan.

“They’ve taken John and Tommy!”

“Scotland Yard?” Eva asks calm and acting as if that was normal. She had warned him about Father Hughes’ doing a show of strength, but they had come ten minutes early.

“Yes, they almost took Esme too. She sent me here to tell you.” the Lee girl says still out of breath.

“Thank you, Madame Boswell, I hope that is enough for the consultation and the chain.” Eva politely takes her leave and goes with the girl Esme sent to fetch her.

--

When Tommy comes home, Eva is prowling the room like a caged lioness. He had seen her angry, but never angry enough to hurt a maid. Even if the maid was a spy for their enemies.

She was meek as a lamb until you threatened her boy. Her hands are shaking, but her grip on their boy is strong.

“They left that under Charlie’s pillow.” she points to the crematorium's card with Charlie’s full name on the back. “I'm going to haul her carcass to the nearest pig farm after I’m done with her.”

“Remind me not to cross you, love.” he takes his cigarette case, but she stops him with one look. Smoking near a baby harmed them and his wife had him agree that under no circumstance he would smoke near Charlie.

Sometimes he thinks Eva would kill him if it meant no hair on their son’s was harmed. Thomas Shelby would die a thousand deaths for him even if it's his wife the one with the gun.

“I invited them to the dinner, I want them to give them a taste of what happens to those who fuck with my family. Once the job is done, let me get rid of the priest.”

---

The sapphire looks better with the copper chain, she thinks.

Eva knows her own beauty, for a long time it has been one of her weapons. She wore no accessories in her dark hair, but her copper earrings glittered in the candlelight.

The fur compliments her ivory pearl dress, the copper accessories paired neatly with the copper beadwork and her heels aren’t tall enough to make Tommy look short. He doesn’t care, but it's bad for optics if she looks taller than him.

“Will you relax, Madame Boswell says the curse is gone and the bullet wound will heal nicely.” She tells him as if she were one hundred percent sure she will survive the night.

To the world he just looks mildly annoyed, but the way her holds her arm protectively and the looks he gave to his soldiers and his brothers tell her everything.

She can read him better than anyone. Eva knows him to his core, just as he knows her.

“The Russians are here; they want you to take the Duchess to the shop. They plan to provoke the communists, especially Ada’s branch.” She whispers when the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

“My wife will be in a hospital fighting for her life, like hell I’ll be doing anything tomorrow.” He says caustically as they plaster perfect masks.

“Exactly, Tom. Just make sure your reasons for saying no are vague. I don’t want them knowing I’m clairvoyant yet.” She gingerly touches the stone when she sees the Russian Duchess looking her from across the dance hall. The food will be sumptuous, too bad it's not going to be eaten.

For now, she was going to lull them into a false sense of security.

It’s been five minutes since he followed the MP and the Priest into the Concert Hall and just as Eva is about to drink her first glass of champagne for the night, Duchess Tatiana Petrovna appears behind her.

It’s a power move, designed so that you catch your victim unaware and make it look casual. Doesn’t work for Eva as she turns around just as Tatiana gets close.

“You have a lovely necklace, Mrs. Shelby. I recognize the sapphire.” she says, malice hiding behind her façade. What could she have done that made a gypsy woman curse her?

“Thank you, Duchess Tatiana,” Eva leans in and whispers the next part with a giggle. “It was originally given as payment from your uncle to my husband and he gifted it to me.”

“A stone that beautiful would have been wasted on anyone else, Mrs. Shelby.” Tatiana says, her subtle flirting not lost on Eva, who would definitely flirt back.

“It must’ve looked absolutely stunning in you.” Eva will regret that later, but the look on the Russian woman’s face made it worth it. “Oh, sorry, I have such trouble with English from time to time. I meant on you.” the moment her bilingual card fails to save her; Eva Shelby will be six feet under and buried next to her husband.

Other women would be angry enough to throw a vase or two at their husband for giving her a rock that’s been inside a woman’s cunt, but not Eva. Eva’s husband knew of her bisexuality and Tatiana’s cunt sapphire was meant as an inside joke as well as a well-intentioned gift.

There were worst things than that, you know, like the ridiculous excessive lifestyles the Russian aristocracy lived in that caused their somewhat deserved demise.

“You speak it better than I do, Mrs. Shelby. Your father was English, wasn’t he?” it doesn’t surprise her to that Tatiana knows things about her. What does surprise her is the way she openly flirts with her. Usually, these types of things were hidden and savored in private. Like when she and Antonia made out in a linen closet at her empty house.

“Yes, he was half- Romani gypsy. My grandfather, may he rest in peace, was from Ireland, like your friend, the Priest. Although I think Colonel Patrick Riley would sooner put a bullet through the man’s skull than acknowledge they are from the same country.” Eva sips her glass and says under her breath. “I know I would.”

“It’s a sin to kill a man of the cloth, Mrs. Shelby. You should be careful of who hears you.” Tatiana warns.

“Call me Eva, madame, we may be from different sides of the world, but we are both exiles forced to live in this dreary country.” Eva says with her coquettish, but innocent smile. Tommy liked that smile the best, especially when she suggested they do something naughty, like letting her get on her knees at his desk.

“It must have been difficult to leave a paradise like your beloved Mexico to come live as the nursemaid of your lower-class relatives.” Tatiana says with the intention of making her angry and have her belittle her family.

“I sympathize with you because I know how it hurts to have the door of your home closed to you forever, not because I lost a privileged life that pales in comparison to yours, Grand Duchess.” Eva tenses, she remains calm, but she could be high-handedly bitchy to her if she doesn’t stop. “Besides, you’ll get a semblance of that after the business is done, just as I have once again become a woman of high-society.”

“Does your husband always share business things with you? It might be bad for you and your baby son, you know.” Another threat.

“As bad as using a cursed sapphire to pay a man knowing he will gift it to his wife?” she asks sweetly, knowing it’s what she least expects from her. “Besides it is my boats that you’ll be using. Think of me as a silent partner.”

Eva touches her elbow gingerly, her voice arrogant. “What must have you done to make that woman want you dead?”

“If we were in Russia I could have you killed, and no one would bat an eye.” Tatiana’s malice peaks through like a gust of artic wind through a crack in the door.

“But it isn’t. And I am not the fragile little flower I look like.” Eva warns and genuinely smiles when Tom comes their way. “You can have him once I’m dead.”

“I plan to, Mrs. Shelby.”

The shiver it sends down her spine makes her hear the music suite for the Dying Swan.

Eva can feel her eyes on her when dinner is announced, just as she feels the silent stare of the Italian soldier making his way into the ballroom and stalking his prey as well.

“Will you kiss me, Tommy?” she asks, her eyes bright with the adrenaline of knowing this could be the last seconds of her life.

“You’re not dying, Eva.” the words almost catch on his throat, but he kisses her like he has never done so before.

Its sweet and tender and perfect. Like a beautiful tragedy.

When the man shouts, she turns and stares death in the face with a smile.

[ogsherlockholmes]

Valentine’s day isn’t a big thing for me, but I thought I may as well start collecting quotes of Sherlock asking John to be on cases with him or asking him if he has his revolver because there are loads. 

(Also this isn’t all of them so I will add to it. Other people can add to it as well.)

A Study in Scarlet: “Get your hat,” he said. “You wish me to come?” “Yes, if you have nothing better to do.”

The Sign of the Four: “Don’t go, doctor, I should prefer that you remain.”

“Have you a pistol, Watson?” “I have my old service-revolver in my desk.” “You had best take it, then.”

“Miss Morstan has done me the honor to accept me as a husband in prospective.” He gave a most dismal groan. “I feared as much,” said he. 

A Scandal in Bohemia: “I think that I had better go, Holmes.” “Not a bit, Doctor. Stay where you are. I am lost without my Boswell. And this promises to be interesting. It would be a pity to miss it.” “But your client—” “Never mind him. I may want your help, and so may he. 

I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me back into my chair. “It is both, or none,” said he. “You may say before this gentleman anything which you may say to me.”

“By the way, Doctor, I shall want your co-operation.” “I shall be delighted.” “You don’t mind breaking the law?” “Not in the least.” “Nor running a chance of arrest?” “Not in a good cause.” “Oh, the cause is excellent!” “Then I am your man.” “I was sure that I might rely on you.”

The Red-Headed League: “You could not possibly have come at a better time, my dear Watson,” he said cordially. “I was afraid that you were engaged.” “So I am. Very much so.” “Then I can wait in the next room.” “Not at all. This gentleman, Mr. Wilson, has been my partner and helper in many of my most successful cases, and I have no doubt that he will be of the utmost use to me in yours also.”

“Kindly put your army revolver in your pocket,”

The Boscombe Valley Mystery: We were seated at breakfast one morning, my wife and I, when the maid brought in a telegram. It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran in this way: “Have you a couple of days to spare? Have just been wired for from the west of England in connection with Boscombe Valley tragedy. Shall be glad if you will come with me. Air and scenery perfect. Leave Paddington by the 11.15.”

The Man with the Twisted Lip: “Now Watson, said Holmes..., “you’ll come with me, won’t you?” “If I can be of use.” “Oh, a trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler still more so.”

The Speckled Band: “I would be very much obliged if you would slip your revolver into your pocket.”

The Noble Bachelor: “Do not dream of going, Watson, for I very much prefer having a witness, if only as a check to my own memory.”

The Beryl Coronet: My friend insisted on my accompanying them.

The Copper Breeches: “Will you come with me?” asked Holmes, glancing up. “I should wish to.”

“I think Watson, that it would be as well for you to have your pistol ready.”

Silver Blaze: “I should be most happy as to go down with you if I should not be in the way,” said I. “My dear Watson, you would confer a great favour upon me by coming. 

This is a very incomplete list, but I love how it gradually fades from Sherlock telling Watson to come with him to politely asking him to complimenting him about his presence to Watson asking if he could come. 

[mayasaura]

Keep the Home Fires Burning

A Griddlehark playlist made using only songs written before 1950. Sometimes playlists aren’t about why, they’re about why not.

Cover art originally by @marceline2174

[I Hate Myself (For Being Mean To You)(1934)/The Boswell Sisters (1934)][Nobody (1905)/Burt Williams (1915)][The Last Rose of Summer (1805)/Nina Simone (1964)][Give Me Liberty or Give Me Love (1933)/Mildred Bailey (1933)][Prisoner of Love (1931)/The Inkspots (1946)][I Can’t Begin to Tell You (1945)/Dinah Shore (1945)][You Always Hurt the One You Love (1944)/The Mills Brothers (1944)][It Had to Be You (1924)/Betty Hutton (1944)][(What Can I Say) After I Say I'm Sorry (1926)/Helen Forrest(1946)][O Rosa Bella (c.1450)/Peter Pazmany (2021)][The Touch of Your Lips (1936)/Chet Baker (1979)][Button Up Your Overcoat (1929)/Ruby Murray (1960)][Очи чёрные (1843)/Vitas (2011)][To Each His Own (1946)/The Ink Spots (1946)][Entreat Me Not to Leave You (unknown)/Salt Lake Vocal Artists (2013)][The Unquiet Grave (unknown)/Acapella Onion (2020)][I’ve Got You Under My Skin (1936)/Ella Fitzgerald (1956)][It’s Easy to Remember (1935)/Sarah Vaughan (1956)][I’ll See You In My Dreams (1924)/Marion Harris (1925)][I’m Making Believe (1944)/Ella Fitzgerald & The Ink Spots (1944)][A Kiss to Build a Dream On (1935)/Dolly Dawn (1978)][You Are My Sunshine (1939)/Nursery Rhymes ABC (2018)][You’ll Never Know (1943)/Vera Lynn (1943)][Wait Till You See Her (1942)/Lori Carsillo (2008)][I Can’t Stand Losing You (1943)/The Inkspots (1943)][Keep the Home Fires Burning (1914)/John McCormack (1917)][Cuando Vuelva a Tu Lado (1934)/Eydie Gormé y Los Panchos (1964)][Till Then (1944)/Anne Lloyd (1954)]

Translations of the non-English lyrics and general nerdery under the cut, bc I’m passionate about lyrics.

O Rosa Bella - Johannes Ockeghem (c.1450), tr.  David Wyatt (2012)

O beautiful rose, o sweet heart of mine,

Do not leave me to die, by your pity!

Ah, must I end up weary and grieving

For serving well and faithfully loving?

 O god of love, what pain this loving is!

See how I die every moment for that cruel lady!

Help me then in my pining,

Heart of my heart, do not leave me to die.

This is a short chanson from the late medieval/early renaissance period. The original courtly love poem was written c.1400 by Leonardo Giustiniani, but the lyrics and music in this recording are from the later version by Johannes Ockeghem.

Очи чёрные/Dark Eyes - Євген Павлович Гребінка (Yevhen Pavlovych Hrebinka) (1843) tr. unknown (wikipedia)

Black eyes, passionate eyes, Burning and beautiful eyes! How I love you, how I fear you, It seems I met you in an unlucky hour! Oh, not for nothing are you darker than the deep! I see mourning for my soul in you, I see a triumphant flame in you: A poor heart immolated in it. But I am not sad, I am not sorrowful, My fate is soothing to me: All that is best in life that God gave us, In sacrifice I returned to the fiery eyes!

While most versions of this song are from a more morose (and much less Gideon) set of later lyrics originally preformed by Feodor Chaliapin, I did find one recording using the original text!

Cuando Vuelva a Tu Lado - María Grever (1934) tr. myself (2021)

When I return to your side

Don’t deny me your kisses

For the love that I’ve given you

You won’t be able to forget

 Don’t ask me anything

I have nothing to explain to you

For the kiss you denied me

You can’t give it anymore

 When I return to your side

And you are alone with me

The things that I tell you

Never repeat, for pity’s sake

 Join Your lips to mine

And hold me in your arms

And count the beats

Of our heart

No real comment on this one, it’s just cute as fuck.

[m-jelly]

Hey everyone

So I thought I'd share a little something. Whole working of stories and requests I match them with a song to help me write them. I thought I'd post here a few songs I use for romance. If you wanna know what I used for my action and angst, let me know and I'll put up a list like this.

Hope you like ❤️

Romance Levi x Reader

[hatingwithfears]

ALL THE BOOKS I READ IN 2021.

117 BOOKS. 38,063 PAGES.

Jonathan Allen, Amie Parnes- Lucky: How Joe Biden Barely Won the Presidency

Ellis Amburn- Subterranean Kerouac

Thomas Aquinas- Selected Writings

Marcus Aurelius- Meditations

Lee Baer- The Imp of The Mind: Exploring The Silent Epidemic of Obsessive Bad Thoughts

Lily Bailey- Because We Are Bad: OCD and a Girl Lost in Thought

Nicholson Baker- The Fermata

James Baldwin- Jimmy’s Blues: Selected Poems

Julian Barnes- The Man in The Red Coat

Sharon Begley- Can’t Just Stop: An Investigation of Compulsions

Ingmar Bergman- Images: My Life in Film

David Berman- Actual Air

Philippe Besson- Lie With Me

Kai Bird, Martin J Sherwin- American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J Robert Oppenheimer

Roberto Bolano- Cowboy Graves

John Boswell- Christianity, Social Tolerance and Homosexuality

Thomas Brothers- Help!: The Beatles, Duke Ellington, and the Magic of Collaboration

Craig Brown- 150 Glimpses of The Beatles

Anne Carson- Autobiography of Red

Ann Charters- Kerouac

Michel Chion- Eyes Wide Shut

Rachel Cusk- Second Place

Nelson A Denis- War Against All Puerto Ricans

Michael Eric Dyson- Long Time Coming

Margaret Edson- Wit

Bart D Ehrman- Heaven and Hell: A History of The Afterlife

Scott Ellsworth- The Ground Breaking: An American City and It’s Search for Justice

Mariana Enriquez- The Dangers of Smoking in Bed

Jeffrey Eugenides- Fresh Complaint

James Finley- Merton’s Palace of Nowhere

Jim Forest- Living With Wisdom: A Life of Thomas Merton

Monica Furlong- Merton: A Biography

Allen Ginsberg, Gary Snyder- Selected Letters

Garth Greenwell- Cleanness

Oakley Hall- Warlock

Faith G. Harper- Unfuck Your Brain

Joel F. Harrington- Dangerous Mystic: Meister Eckhart’s Path to The God Within

Ethan Hawke- A Bright Ray of Darkness

Makato Fujimura- Art+Faith

Julian Herbert- Bring Me the Head of Quentin Tarantino

Frank Herbert- Dune

Tracy Hickman- Wayne of Gotham

Sasha Geffen- Glitter Up The Dark: How Pop Music Broke the Binary

Eddie S Glaude Jr- Begin Again

Neal Goldsmith- Psychedelic Healing

Blake Gopnik- Warhol

Mira Jacob- Good Talk

Nick James- Heat

Lesley-Ann Jones- The Search for John Lennon

Stephen Graham Jones- The Only Good Indians

Stephen Graham Jones- Night of The Mannequins

Carl G. Jung- The Undiscovered Self

Carl G. Jung- Answer to Job

Carl G. Jung- The Red Book

Jack Kerouac- The Beat Generation

Jack Kerouac- Visions of Gerard

Jack Kerouac- Good Blonde and Others

Soren Kierkegaard- Fear & Trembling

Soren Kierkegaard- Sickness Unto Death

Val Kilmer- I’m Your Huckleberry

Stephen King- Later

TJ Klune- The House in The Cerulean Sea

Martin Laird- Into a Silent Land: A Guide to The Practice of Christian Contemplation

Travis Langley- Batman and Psychology

Raven Leilani- Luster

Ben Lerner- The Topeka School

Jonathan Lethem- Motherless Brooklyn

Carmen Maria Machado- In The Dream House

David Mamet- Writing in Restaurants

Greil Marcus- The Weird, Old America: The World of Bob Dylan’s Basement Tapes

James Martin- Learning to Prey

Cormac McCarthy- The Counselor

Thomas Merton- Bread in The Wilderness

Thomas Merton- Mystics and Zen Masters

Thomas Merton- The Springs of Contemplation

Thomas Merton- Seeds

Ottessa Moshfegh- McGlue

Ottessa Moshfegh- Eileen

Ottessa Moshfegh- Homesick For Another World

Ottessa Moshfegh- Death in Her Hands

Jon Mundy- A Course in Mysticism and Miracles

Sayaka Murata- Earthlings

Graham Nash- Wild Tales

Adam Nayman- Paul Thomas Anderson: Masterworks

Christopher Nolan- Inception

Philip Norman- Wild Thing

Barack Obama- A Promised Land

Tommy Orange- There There

Chuck Palahniuk- The Invention of Sound

James Patterson- Deadly Cross

Richard Powers- The Overstory

Leah Raeder- Black Iris

Marieke Lucas Rijneveld- The Discomfort of Evening

Sogyal Rinpoche- The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying

Robbie Robertson- Testimony

Richard Rohr- The Naked Now

Philip Roth- Goodbye Columbus

Philip Roth- Letting Go

Lillian Ross- Picture

Jean-Paul Satre- Being and Nothingness

Paul Schrader- Transcendental Style in Film

Frederick Seidel- Poems: 1959-2009

Gary Snyder- No Nature

Bob Spitz- The Beatles

Oliver Stone- Chasing The Light

Howard Suber- The Power of Film

Courtney Summers- Sadie

Quentin Tarantino- Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

David Thomson- Murder and The Movies

Jeff Tweedy- How to Write One Song

Ocean Vuong- On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

Benedict Wells- The End of Loneliness

Edward White- The Twelve Lives of Alfred Hitchcock

Peter Wohlleben- The Hidden Life of Trees

Kevin Young- Brown

Ed. Willis Barnstone, Marvin Meyer- The Gnostic Bible

Ed. David Carter- Allen Ginsberg: Spontaneous Mind: Selected Interviews

Ed. Jonathan Cott- Bob Dylan: The Essential Interviews

Ed. Barney Hoskyns- Joni: The Anthology

Ed. Thomas P. McDonnal- A Thomas Merton Reader

Ed. Bill Morgan- The Letters of Allen Ginsberg

Ed. Nduka Otiono, Josh Toth- Polyvocal Bob Dylan

[scotianostra]

18th August 1773 saw Samuel Johnson and James Boswell set out on their three month tour of the Highlands and the Inner Hebrides.

Boswell enticed his famous English friend Samuel Johnson to accompany him on a tour through the highlands and western islands of Scotland. 

James Boswell, 9th Laird of Auchinleck  was a Scottish biographer, diarist, and lawyer, born in Edinburgh, like many young men he longed to visit the bright lights of London and in 1760 he deserted the family home to live in the English capital for a few months. It was during his second stay in 1762-63 that he met his literary hero and model, the poet, essayist and dictionary maker Dr. Samuel Johnson.  In August 1763 Boswell embarked upon a 2½ year Grand Tour of Europe, during which he met many notable men and women, including Voltaire and Rousseau.  On returning to Scotland he practised law as an advocate.   During this time he made occasional visits London to spend time with Dr Johnson and others of his circle, including Oliver Goldsmith, Sir Joshua Reynolds and Edmund Burke.  He was also on familiar terms with David Hume, Adam Smith and other leading figures of the Scottish Enlightenment. 

Johnston and Boswell set off less than 30 years after the '45 Uprising, when whisky was still distilled illegally, roads were scarce and travel was by foot, bone-jangling carriage, horseback or over very turbulent seas in a rickety boat.

Their extraordinary journey to the Highlands and the Hebrides during an autumnal season of relentless rain and storms, took Johnson - plump, partially deaf and blind and who had rarely travelled outside of London - on a grand Scottish tour which led to two of the earliest travel books and paved the way for centuries of tourists who would also explore the nation’s wild islands and highland

While for the then 32-year-old Boswell there was a chance to witness Johnson up close for nearly three months, providing a wealth of material for his admired biography, Life of Samuel Johnson. The travel journal was a massive hit and a humorous account of their journey.

Boswell was Scots to his roots and is very defensive about the Scots and Scottishness, while Johnson has this very English take on it all. These two things fuel the humour, Johnson is like this English bulldog and Boswell is like a Scottish terrier. Together they are a hoot! Add to that the facts that as you would expect from a Scotsman, Boswell was a heavy drinker and Johnson was teetotal, which leads to all kinds of escapades. It’s like 18th century Laurel and Hardy.

Boswell, quoted their first conversation in the biography,  Life of Samuel Johnson, saying: “Mr Johnson, I do indeed come from Scotland, but I cannot help it”. To which Johnson replied: “That, Sir, I find, is what a great many of your countrymen cannot help.”

It set the scene for a friendship driven by verbal sparring, with Johnson’s deprecating remarks about Scots robustly foiled by Boswell’s defence of homeland.

Their travels began in mid-August at Boyd’s Inn in Edinburgh, where the cleanliness dismayed Johnson. Boswell wrote: “He asked to have his lemonade made sweeter; upon which the waiter, with his greasy fingers, lifted a lump of sugar, and put it into it. The Doctor, in indignation, threw it out of the window”.

The pair then travelled up the east coast, stopping at St Andrews to indulge their interest in John Knox and Mary, Queen of Scots, Following the coast towards Aberdeenshire, a  bit like today’s NC500 tourists plotting their route, they took an anti-clockwise course along the Moray Coast to Inverness and then to the Western Isles.

At times their journey resembled a lengthy pub crawl as they noted the quality of the inns and the food.

In Montrose, Johnson noted: “At our inn we did not find a reception such as we thought proportionate to the commercial importance of the place; but Mr Boswell desired me to observe the innkeeper was an Englishman, and I then defended him as well as I could.” Dundee, it was noted, was “dirty, despicable”. They even recorded their first taste of Arbroath smokies.

Having travelled through Glen Shiel, the pair arrived at the inn at Glenelg. Often praised today, Boswell and Johnson gave it the equivalent of a one-star TripAdvisor review. Having arrived “wearing and peevish”, they discovered “no meat, no milk, no bread, no eggs, no wine. We did not express much satisfaction.”

The Highland terrain posed even greater stress. Dangerous and often impassable except on foot, they were often in remote spots, miles from inns or shelter or ankle deep in a peat bog.  Nevertheless, they trudged on through stormy weather and with Johnson often suffering from colds, increasing deafness and seasickness on the journeys between the islands.

The trip from Coll to Skye was undertaken during a vicious storm, with Boswell fretting over whether the boat might sink or explode, and troubled that he couldn’t understand the sailors’ Gaelic!  Johnson was no great fan of the language, describing it as “the rude speech of a barbarous people, who had few thoughts to express, and were content, as they conceived grossly, to be grossly understood”.

But in Skye, they were delighted to meet Flora MacDonald, and slept in the same room that Bonnie Prince Charlie had slept in. “Both were over the moon because they were besotted with the story,” he wrote.

Don’t judge Johnson on his dislike of the Gaelic language though, the pair told of finding the Highlands still occupied by military garrisons, cleared by immigration and spoke of the suppression of Highland culture and oppression of the clans.

The isle of Raasay turned out to be a favourite spot, where the pair enjoyed the clan chief’s hospitality and a raucous ceilidh, with Boswell dancing a jig on the flat summit of Dun Caan. Both felt that in Raasay they had come close to authentic old Gaelic culture and way of life.

By October 1773 they were in the Saracen Head Inn in Glasgow’s Gallowgate, revelling in a roaring coal fire and conversation with professors from Glasgow University.

The trip would come to a sorry end, however, at Boswell’s family’s Ayrshire home at  Johnson and Boswell’s father had an enormous row; they were total opposites in religious and political beliefs,

Johnson was a kind of father figure to Boswell. He knew Boswell could be a bit out of hand, but he also knew he was a real literary talent.”

Johnson’s A Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland, was published  in 1775, followed a exactly decade later by Boswell’s The Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides with Samuel Johnson.  Both wrote their own versions of their tour differently. They go to the same places but see things differently.

[vivianleighwishesshewasme]

Bought by a Shelby part 1

Finn goes with his family up to the mountain to recruit new gypsy family's to help the Shelby's brothers. Fate has plans for Finn.

__________________________________________________________

”Why are we here freezing our arses off ?” Finn asked, clearly annoyed at being drug up the snow-covered mountains. It was fall in Birmingham, no snow had fallen yet and with all the smog and hot industry, winter usually came a bit late in the section Finn lived in.

He should have been happy to breathe some fresh air and get out of that frigid little apartment Tommy and Arthur had given him after the whole vendetta fiasco.

Tommy had rudely woken everyone up and told them a plan that he’d known about for weeks. Apparently, he needed a new expansion and with Esme Lee, Boswells and Gold families refusing to be drugged into any more of his schemes, they needed to extend to gypsy camps outside of their family for help.

“We already told you Finn, we're here to do business and you are a part of that business.” Tommy said flatly as he tugged his gloves over his hands hoping to keep some heat from escaping his body. Even he would admit it was a bone chilling day with the wind whipping and biting into any exposed flesh it could touch.

Arthur and Tommy had built a fire which was raging at this point yet no one was warm. Ada had brought thermos filled with hot Cocoa. The cold was freezing the outside of the metal just leaving chocolate flavored water. Finn was ready to go. Expanding the gypsy hand of influence was silly as far as he was concerned. There were plenty of ambitious young lads in Birmingham who’d be happy to be paid to do whatever Blinders business they needed to do.

“Aren’t you the one complaining that you wanted to be a legitimate business partner? You need to go outside the office once and get some fresh air.” Ada chastised him, gently poking him in the ribs. He glared at her and she rolled her eyes while the elder brothers chuckled. He hated feeling that he was taking in all their teasing, he was, but he didn't want to be.

“I think I've breathed enough cold air to last me a lifetime Arthur.” He cocked off his mouth earning a finger waving from Tom warning him to be respectful.

“Maybe Tommy will find you a little gypsy wife to form an alliance with her family Finn, follow in John's footsteps. Form an alliance through a family and then we can all go home after the wedding.” Ada chirped and earned grins from her brother, all except Finn.

“Yeah, that worked out great didn’t it.” He sneered. He hadn’t meant for it to come out as scalding and scathing as it had. All three turned to look at him, clearly surprised by his attitude. He knew he should be grateful for the opportunity and he was. John was still a sore spot for him. Out of all the siblings, Finn, Ada and John were the ones most full of life. They constantly teased and ribbed playfully at one another. Arthur and Tommy were too serious after the war.

“I can still hear you Finn.” Tommy glared at him. His cold steely gaze did not leave the younger man's face. Finn refused to look away. He’d been dealt with or dismissed too much in the past to be intimidated by any of it anymore.

“Boys, here we go. We're a united unit, remember” Ada said smiling at the approaching clan that were emerging from the tree line.

Finn scoffed and rolled his eyes, they were never a united unit. Wouldn’t be until this generation retired.

“Gentlemen welcome, we build a fire, please, gather around and hear our proposition.

“ Hatman, Temple, Nithercott, Loughty, are we all accounted for?” Tommy asked, clasping his hands as the Shelby's stood across from the fire waiting for all the members to nod or speak.

Finn was exhausted, this was going to be a very long and very cold day. ______________________________________________________________

Three hours, three tedious and semi productive hours of sitting on frost covered logs, the cold seeping in through his arse while they went in circles reaffirming the offer or rejecting offers only to end up agreeing on the first propositions mentioned twenty minutes in. Finn hated the delegations. He didn’t have the patience for it much, preferring to be in on the action.

He saw Ada rubbing her temples, she was even over it. He smiled at her sympathetically.

“ I gotta go piss.” He stood as she shook her head at his gruffness. He turned heading to the stream away from all the eyes at camp.

He’d just finished on a tree and turned to rinse his hands not looking forward to the icy cold water in front of him. A wide open slow moving river stretched out in front of him winding through the mountains. He bet it looked beautiful in the summer when it was warm and teaming with life and color.

Finn didn’t hate nature like his brothers assumed. He just enjoyed the comforts he’d grown accustomed to like insulated walls, coal burning fires and houses.

He froze watching several ladies approaching to dip wooden buckets into the stream. Old and young gathered scattered throughout.

One caught his attention though, she wasn’t as beautiful as the others in a common sense. She was striking to him however. Long bone white bleached hair hung mostly loose around her face. Two black cords tied tightly to show her red chapped lips and her dark brown eyes, warm like the tree bark promising spring. She blushed and turned away from him gathering water and whispering to the other two champagne blondes near her. They all bore a resemblance and seemed close in age, sister perhaps. Finn smiled at her hoping to catch her eye again. He hoped she didn't have brothers. He wouldn't mind ferret her out and striking up a conversation.

He had a fiancé back home, the back of his mind was trying to compare the two. There wasn’t a comparison to be found.

Myra wasn't a particularly tall, fashionable thing with short red hair and piercing green eyes. She was spunky, mischievous and eager to live with Finn because of his gangster lifestyle. They always had a good time together whether causing trouble or messing around in his apartment

This mountain girl was of average height and built as far as he could tell with all the blankets she had draped over her. Nothing but her eyes and hair were of a particular draw. She stood away from him by the other women, a good gypsy girl, probably a virgin. Whatever she knew of sex came from animal husbandry, he didn’t see any animals though. Probably too cold he thought bitterly. He lifted a cigarette to his mouth and lit it, placing his freezing cold lighter back in his pocket. At least this was a comfort.

“See something you like?” Finn looked around trying to find the reedy thin old voice that had just intruded his thoughts.

He tried not to back away as a hunched over old woman placed her hand on his. She squeezed his arms and his bicep. He smiled warmly at her. Even for a handsy old woman she had some irresistible charm. He shook his head and smiled down at her, mindful to not blow smoke in her face.

“Just looking around.” He replied, turning his head back to the young woman. The one he’d been watching was gone. He didn’t realize it but he was scanning around to see if he could spot her.

“You should look again. I’m sure she’s closer than you think.” She patted his arm after cryptically speaking and hobbled off rather quickly to Finn's surprise. ************************************************************************

[arthur-j-raffles]

Hey, why do you think people get upset (especially purists) with the concept of Johnlock when it's been here for ages? I love the thrilling impulsive disordered way Sherlock thinks and acts (like my ADHD, OCD, and other mental disorders which I headcanon Sherlock to have.) alongside his nurturing and supportive Boswell (like my fiancé). They're flirty, fun, and affectionate with their jokes and laughs with each other throughout their mysteries, and that comforts me. Canon is damned and I don't care what Conan's opinions are if it makes me happy. Why are people so sour, salty, and act like the idea of me writing fanfiction and buying fanart of my first ship at 12 (when I first read Sherlock from the public library with my nana a decade ago) is the worst thing in all of existence and ruins Sherlock Holmes? Am I the crazy one or is everyone else who's crazy? (Btw it's nice to see someone on Tumblr who loves the OG turn of the last century version Sherlock than the terrible show alongside Lupin and Raffles.)

Hi anon! I know you probably just asked this question to get me to respond about how it’s ridiculous that anyone would get that upset about a fictional ship, but this question got me thinking for a bit. I’m one of the most biased sources here (i’ve made posts about how i don’t tag John/Sherlock because it should be a given, etc.), but I’ll try to respond to this question with an honest and fair answer because there are a lot of factors as to why people get upset at John/Sherlock.

Below the cut I’ll talk about:

1. Cultural Osmosis

2. 19th Century Friendship

3. Distaste for Shipping

4. Homophobia

1. Cultural Osmosis

One of the reasons I think is most prevalent is that people who have never read or watched any Sherlock Holmes content assume because it’s so old and so popular that they’ve somehow absorbed enough of it through pop culture and references that they know what Sherlock is like via cultural osmosis. They know he’s deductive and doesn’t like people, so they assume he’s cold, always calculated, and the pinnacle of detective perfection. They know John is the narrator and Sherlock’s friend, so they just assume John is basic, boring, and so uninteresting that he’s barely in Sherlock’s social circle, but merely tags along with him. This vision of both of the characters is skewed so far from the canon that people either can’t fathom how you ship these two characters who in their minds are very incompatible, or the more common thing, people have a preconceived notion that you’re looking too much into it because nothing old and published can be gay.

(This kind of thing isn’t just exclusive to Sherlock, either. People will also gawk at the idea of Spock/Kirk from Star Trek TOS because they assume they know what TOS is without even watching it because they’ve seen the cultural impact of “beam me up, Scotty” and “live long and prosper.” They create a mental image of TOS that’s mostly full of their own assumptions, and gay subtext isn’t one of their expectations.)

2. 19th Century Friendship

Another reason is that historical male friendships are different than what the typical male friendship is now. In the 19th century, men were more open to showing affection for each other in strong ways. Photos from the century show male friend groups openly holding hands, arm in arm, and helping light each other’s cigarettes. Obviously a lot of men are shaking off ideas of “manliness” that limit the way they can express their platonic love to their friends, but there’s still a lot of men that won’t hold their best friend’s hands because “that’s just weird/that’s gay.” This is all a long-winded way of saying that, to some people, Sherlock and John are the pinnacle of close male friendship in the 19th century. They are the perfect show of platonic affection between men, something that some people look up to and aspire towards. To people who think of Sherlock and John as exclusively best friends, they may feel offended or baffled that anyone would try to “ruin” that friendship by making the two lovers. That’s why some people who are legitimate fans of Sherlock Holmes may take offense to the ship: they think it ruins the friendship between the characters.

3. Distaste for Shipping

It isn’t uncommon for fans of a series to have a distaste for shipping elements, especially for a series whose sole focus isn’t romance. Sherlock Holmes is in no way a romance, and some people feel that shipping shouldn’t be the focus of fandom content because the source material isn’t romantic. People who want to focus on mystery and suspense elements may believe that shipping ruins what fans should be focusing on and appreciating in the franchise. And they have some merit in thinking that shipping can ruin the focus of a franchise, because there are definitely some fandom subcultures out there that ignore important themes and messages in shows to instead focus on their ship. But, this is an over-generalization of any fandom, clearly.

The above reasons for someone disliking Sherlock/John are not malicious. They assume the person is well-intentioned but misguided. In the cultural osmosis example, the person just doesn’t understand the source material and thus doesn’t understand the ship. In the friendship example, the person just wants to see a male friendship that isn’t toxic, and mistakes the act of shipping for throwing away that interpretation entirely. In the distaste for shipping example, the person just wants to focus on the themes of Holmes and not the romantic subtext. However, saying that everyone who gets upset at shipping John/Sherlock is well-intentioned would be a lie.

4. Homophobia

There’s an obvious reason of—whether implicit or explicit—homophobia when some people get downright disgusted or outraged that someone would ship John/Sherlock. I don’t think it needs explanation as to what homophobia is, but Sherlock/John especially outrages people more than other gay ships because the characters are classic. Sherlock is known throughout the world, everyone knows his name even if they’ve never read any of the stories, and his iconography—smoking pipe, hat, and jacket—have become well-recognized. It makes ignorant people boil over when you say that this iconic character who has remarkable impact on the world may be gay, asexual, or transgender. They think that lgbtq identities are something taboo or something to be ignored. To them, lgbtq characters should be background noise at most. And vocalizing that you see John/Sherlock subtext in their interactions destroys that.

TL;DR: Some people may be upset by John/Sherlock because they don’t understand the source material, they think shipping destroys a friendship dynamic they liked, or they feel that shipping takes away from the story. Some people may be upset by John/Sherlock because of ignorance and homophobia.