#Luree Holmes

[gatutor]

Luree Holmes-Dwayne Hickman-Frankie Avalon-Vincent Price-Jack Mullaney "Doctor G. y su máquina de bikinis" (Dr. Goldfoot and the bikini machini) 1965, de Norman Taurog.

[timeladix]

Ohh... so is Nightswan Thrawn's Motiarty then?:))

For reference:

[incomingalbatross]

Genuinely though the Final Problem is really well-done.

It's a death story in which Doyle's whole goal was to kill Holmes off, but he still did it with care and respect and attention to what the characters deserved. He didn't drop a bridge on him or get him shot by a random criminal just so he could go "HE'S DEAD, NOW GO AWAY." He actually successfully created a nemesis for Holmes within the scope of one short story—someone we can believe is a big enough threat that it justifies Holmes dying to stop him. Without ever even letting us meet the guy face-to-face! That's insane. But it works. Moriarty has an established place in pop culture as Holmes's nemesis because Doyle made us believe it, just within FINA. He made Holmes's death an accomplishment for Holmes, a crowning glory.

And he didn't phone in the rest of the story, either. It's filled with Holmes and Watson being themselves. We have Holmes telling the ins and outs of his fight with Moriarty, intelligent and self-possessed and full of a zest for life even as he repeats that he'd willingly give it up to take this guy down; we have Watson's loyalty and stubbornness that keeps him close to Holmes and the need to help others that ultimately lures him away. We get an incredibly dramatic site for Holmes's death that Watson spends entire paragraphs describing.

We also get Watson's grief in the narration, which—again—is not colored by the author's own decisions regarding Holmes. Doyle might be tired of him, but he knows Watson isn't! And so Watson's narration is wholly and sincerely a tribute to Holmes, and mourning for his death, because that is both what the fans want to hear and what Watson would want to write. It's just...honestly, this whole story is such a good example of how to kill off a beloved character, if you're really set on doing it.

[tugstoffoles]

Sherlock Holmes whisper singing a fake song that was made to lure a psycho into a trap to that same psycho as he dies after he shoots his best friend was insane and gave me so many chills holy fuck

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

A Love of Music

I have always enjoyed music and I wish I was good at playing an instrument. To sit down at the piano and effortlessly play one of my favourite songs for example. It always blew my mind when I saw people do just that in public spots. 

A few days before I enlisted, I was picking up my current girlfriend at St Pancras. She’d been at her parents in Kent over Christmas. We’d arranged to meet by the large Christmas tree. There was a piano there too. Free to use for anyone who wanted to show off their skills or entertain the travellers.

A teenage girl took a seat and started to play Auld Lang Syne. It was beautiful and much to my chagrin, I had to wipe away a tear.

***

Classical music was a genre I had an ambivalent relationship with. I guess I found it too pompous in my youth, but as I got older, some pieces stuck with me, and I quite enjoyed The New Year Concert from Vienna. 

It varied which instrument I was fascinated by. The harp, with its grandeur and elegant form, had always intrigued me. I also enjoyed the oboe. The sound of it felt both soothing and melancholy. But in the end, it was the violin I loved the most. How a skilled violinist could coax out all kinds of sounds from the beautiful instrument never failed to stun me. 

***

And then I experienced that even talented violinists could play so terrible that it hurt the ears and caused shudders to ripple through the entire body.

Yes, I’m referring to my mad flatmate and boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes. When we first met, and he told me he played the violin, I thought he was an amateur. Imagine my surprise and awe when I realised that he was just as skilled as any violinist in a symphony orchestra. At least in my opinion.

“You’re biased, John,” Sherlock told me.

I guess I was, but he was bloody good, and I thoroughly enjoyed it when he played for me. Therefore, I was totally unprepared for the change in tone when Mycroft visited. I had had my encounter with the pompous arse in a parking cellar somewhere months prior, but this was the first time I witnessed a meeting between the brothers.

A screeching sound from Sherlock’s violin made me cover my ears and yell from the kitchen: “what the hell, Sherlock!”

He stopped for a brief second to tell me his brother was tormenting him. Then he started molesting his instrument again. It was unbearable. I think my ears would’ve started to bleed if I hadn’t been able to pry the bow out of his hand. He plucked the strings for a while, before he sprawled on the sofa, clutching the violin to his chest.

***

The tone and the pieces he played when I had nightmares, were soft and gentle, luring me back to the flat and out of the desert. My heart swelled with love for him in those moments. Sometimes I stood from the bed and went to thank him with an embrace or a kiss. Other times, I was too fatigued to do anything but just lay there and thank him in my mind. The nightmares got less straining after I started sharing his bed, but he still played for me.

***

Sherlock’s own tone when Mrs. Hudson asked him to play Christmas carols, was clipped and haughty, but when he started playing – well, it was magical. He transformed from that aloof man everybody thought to be a sociopath, and into a passionate musician. I could even discern a tiny curl of his lip, indicating a smile on those occasions. After all, he’d do anything for his beloved Hudders, however reluctant he seemed.

***

His sorrow filled the small church when he played at his father’s funeral. I had never seen a face so despairing. Tears trickled down his cheeks in a constant stream, but he never faltered. Not until he lowered his bow after he’d finished playing. I was by his side before he’s knees gave way, and he stayed close to me for the rest of the day.

***

After we moved to Sussex, Sherlock still practised and played the violin, but it took a bit more effort as the years passed. His fingers weren’t that flexible anymore, especially during winter. So, we changed our habits. Every so often we took the train up to London, or Mycroft provided a car, and we went to see the London Symphony Orchestra. If there was a serene violin solo, Sherlock tapped at my arm in step with the soloist. 

***

It wasn't our shared love of music that brought us together, but it was an important part of the foundation of our relationship. And when the crime solving and the hunt for suspects through London ended, the music became an even bigger part of our lives. The tones changed and differed, but our love remained solid and steadfast.

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[not-that-dillinger]

“You shouldn’t be out here alone this late.”

The voice is echoed... garbled like it had been through too many layers of distortions gone wrong. The only tell that there was someone nearby on this forsaken piece of digital terrain was a flicker of something dark... cape?... or fabric maybe... just out of sight.

"It... isn't safe... for programs."

He'd had one of those days, where he'd been in not so great a mental space after a board meeting and couldn't go home but the walls of Encom tower felt more oppressive than safe like they usually did, and that perhaps made Ed a little more reckless. He'd gone for a walk, hoping to burn the last of his spoons so that maybe he could just go home and pass out.

He hadn't realized how far he'd walked until he found himself leaning heavily on Colossus, blinking up at the unlit sign of Flynn's arcade. He'd never really thought much about the place; he hadn't been allowed as a kid when it was open, and the one time his father's assistant caught him trying to sneak in with friends, he'd been... discouraged from returning.

Perhaps it was Flynn's old files he'd found on the Encom server that he kept thinking about, that drew him here. The files had been filled with ramblings that lined up so much with the angry rants his father used to have, and Ed couldn't stop thinking about them. He stood in front of the abandoned arcade, and something clicked into place. He realized he might have the missing puzzle piece to solve the mystery of where Flynn disappeared to.

Sherlock Holmes and Nancy Drew had always been a worse influence on him than his father made any of his childhood friends out to be; picking the lock on the door was trivial, and he quickly found the hidden basement.

It took him little time to find the Grid.

It took even less time for them to find him, though they didn't know what to do with the massive dog that had come with him.

They'd stripped him out of his clothes, put him in a light up suit, and given him a disc. They'd put Colossus in a suit and given him a disc as well. And then they marched him to Clu.

Clu had hoped to use him to lure his user out of hiding, and Ed laughed. Rescue his nemesis's son from certain death? Yeah right.

It was the sight of the test tube-looking prison, large enough to contain an adult human, more than Clu's plans to turn him into mindless soldier under his control, that had sent Ed into a panic.

Colossus had always been gentle with other people, and Ed had never seen the dog snap, much less bite someone, but Ed's panic must have triggered something, because the next thing he knew, the guards that had been restraining him were on the ground, and he was sprinting down the hall with Colossus, Clu dropping yellow voxels from the stump of his wrist as he pursued after them.

Ed didn't remember much about the escape, but an explosion or ten later he was hiding in an abandoned building in a darkened sector of the city.

---

That had been... Ed had no idea how long ago. It felt like months. They'd probably given up the search for him, if there even was one when he went missing. The darkened sector made an ideal hiding spot. It seemed like Clu or his forces couldn't track data there, though Ed also couldn't access the Grid to write scripts, execute command lines, or draw energy, which meant that Ed had to venture out in order to obtain energy or code anything he needed. And that meant he had to leave Colossus, since the dog was instantly recognizable.

Regardless, he'd learned how his disc connected him to the Grid, and had figured out how to use it to change his outfit to something slightly closer to his usual clothing with a floor length cloak, and had coded a swordstick with a pigeon-head for a hilt to defend himself with.

It was his third time venturing out, in need of more energy for both himself and Colossus, that he'd been found.

Ed froze, leaning heavily on the swordstick. He was having a low energy day, but he could fight, if it came to it.

He shifted his weight off the cane ever so slightly. "Is that so?" he asked, voice intentionally kept even and calm. "The same could be said of you."

[preservationofnormalcy]

Ok, so I’m writing a novel involving paranormal investigation (no relation to you, takes place in a fictional town) and I’m on my third draft when the main character shows up behind me, grabs and turns me around to tell me of the “inaccuracies to his case”. Now I wrote them down and how I should change them. And when I looked up from my notepad, he was gone.

I want to continue, and most of these I feel like I can implement within the story, but what exactly happened? And if this becomes a series, will he continue to pop up, or was it one of those “one in a blue moon scenarios”?

And what do I do if it isn’t?

Hey Norm...

Hmm? Didn't you do a PSA about this exact subject in the nineties?

Oh, uh, sure. When I first started. Around '99. It's waaay outdated, now, you know, with the internet and everything, it's better to not even look it up. I don't think it was even digitized, really. I have no idea what happened to it.

Oh, Norm, don't worry! If there's one person who knows your filing system better than you, it's me! Let's see...H for Holmes, S for Sherlock...cross reference to P for Parafictional, 90s...HERE WE GO! "Dear Watson: That's Not Holmes, That's A Lure!"

Oh good, they put it on a disc so that a tech savvy person could find it, uh, twenty five years later. I wouldn't play it, I can't guarantee--

<An old, color degraded video begins playing. It's clearly shot on VHS, with a minimal budget, and had degraded somewhat before being transferred to digital. A man stands in a small, cinderblock room in front of a backdrop depicting a victorian study. He is wearing a tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows and a pair of smart slacks. A deerstalker hat sits conspicuously on a stack of actual books, Sherlock Holmes novels. The man himself looks sort of like what you'd get if you focus-group-tested the only type of man Don Bluth knew how to draw, and has curtain bangs with frosted tips. The whole ensemble has the energy of a store-brand Milo Thatch. As he speaks, his eyes don't leave a fixed point behind the camera.>

So. You have encountered an entity from a fictional property. You're excited - maybe you wanted to talk to your favorite book character. Or. Maybe you are a writer and you are excited to talk to your protagonist. But...is that entity real?

<There's an extremely awkward camera change, and the man looks to it, his eyes following a point again.>

....or a lure?

<He leans back and there is a too-long pause before he continues.>

When encountering a parafictional manifestation, remember the three S's.

<The visuals change to a grainy blue background, white text appearing as the man's voiceover continues.>

Solidity: are you are this entity is physical and not all in your head?

Subjective: if it's real, are other people seeing the same thing?

Sentience: is this entity sentient, or merely approximating sentience? Is it answering questions like a sentient entity, or like how it would be expected to answer?

<It cuts back to the man, standing behind the chair with his hands on the back. There is a too-long pause again.>

If...uh.

If this entity doesn't pass any of these easy-to-remember checks, that's a red flag. Any number of malicious extranormal entities can exploit the human capacity for creativity in order to feed on our psychic energy, creating a non-sentient construct we call a "Chinese Room" in order to keep YOU from asking questions.

Remember next time you see Darth Vader, Spider-man, or Tarzan - are you so incredibly lucky to experience such a rare phenomena as true parafictional manifestation?

<He awkwardly puts a pipe in his mouth and blows a few bubbles.>

Or are you being lured?

<The video ends.>

....god, my hair.

[noonewilleverknowistealkneecaps]

Do you have any fav soviet Holmes episodes in particular?

*sweats heavily*

Ookay

If i have to choose, i definitely would look into the earlier episodes, as they are better. I mean, i barely remember what the latest episodes were about, and I’ve been rewatching the last month.

Well, i really like two parts of the series: the first episode, with mottled ribbon case, as the meet of Sherlock and Watson is played out remarkably good, and Baskerville episodes.

The latter… they just stand out to me due to the beautiful fusion of music/vibe/editing. Soviet Sherlock just… managed to show the Baskerville case in a r e a l l y beautiful way. On the verge of supernatural, magical, mysterious and dangerous, the story slowly lures you in with how different it is from any other part of the series… it is almost like a fairytale…… and it’s so freaking romantic, by all means im enthralled by Baskerville eps the most.

Shortly on the vibes:

UGHHH I REMEMBERED, THE COLOURS, THE CREEPY ATMOSPHERE - watson and sherlock really had to kiss in the middle of the haunted mires. Really would’ve elevated the plot. You know.

I mean, they also have more characters there, the ones which are really to remember, incredibly lovable - take Sir Henry at least. Their friendship with Watson. Them getting drunk in the castle.

Soviet Baskerville is some really well written fanfic. i say.

Anyway listen to this soundtrack for yourself and CHECK THE EPS ON YT

[espinosaurusrexex]

Just an idea :) for Sherlock, what if Enola is always trying to get him to date cuz either he's lonely or always focused on work. But he always turns down the idea. Then one day she lures him to her favorite bookshop (or cafe, etc) and casually introduces him to her favorite employee. And the pickup line just comes out of no where, even he is surprised lolz. Feel free to not use this at all if you get better ideas😂

Thank you so much for this idea! For writing purposes, this will take place in modern times (*writing purposes meaning me being too lazy to write period specific)

Cheesy Pick-up Line (Bingo Game)

!BINGO ASKS CLOSED!

College!Henry!SherlockHolmes x Female!Reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: a little bickering, awkward Sherlock, fluffy and cute

Enola giggled excitedly as she pushed past the glass double doors of her favorite library. Her brother was following behind closely, a disinterested look on his face as they entered the small building. For Enola, it was the perfect place to be, but Sherlock just asked himself what he was doing here instead of studying for his criminal justice exam next week. 

What he had not concluded yet, was that Enola Holmes had an agenda far different from the story she had told her brother about just an hour ago. He didn’t know his sister had spent weeks finding a way to finally get him to leave his stuffy, foot-smelling boy room. She had mashed her brain about it as she roamed the shelves of her favorite place and when she checked out the other day, she was embarrassed to have thought of it so late. It was blatantly obvious. Her brother needed a girlfriend. Someone that would encourage him to live outside of his schoolwork every once in a while. And you were the perfect candidate for the job. Smiley and charming, intelligent and pretty, and on top of that, someone Enola liked very much. She had established a first-name basis with you over the hours she spent in the little library you worked at. Today, she would try to accomplish the same for Sherlock. 

Sherlock stood between the rows of shelves, waiting for his sister to finish collecting the mountain of books he was sure she wasn’t even allowed to check out at once. She had recruited him to ‘help her carry them’ as if she weren’t very capable of it herself. And besides, Enola was the one always underlining her independence and that women could do just as much as men. Something wasn’t adding up. 

Enola placed another book in his arms. One she had mindlessly pulled from the shelve to keep her story alive. It was a small sacrifice for the gratification she would get would her brother finally fall in love this evening. She was sure of it. No more feigned disinterest in the stories their family told about cousins and other relatives having their first partners. No more annoying dismissal of their mother’s subtle hints towards his isolating himself. No more bad moods because of the uncalled-for comments Mycroft threw at him when he visited with his fiancé. It was about to change today.

“Relativity Theory?” He lifted an eyebrow before Enola could disappear behind another shelf. “Hamlet? What kind of homework is this supposed to be?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Enola quipped before placing an autobiography in his arms. 

“They’ll think you’re robbing this place.” He readjusted the books because even though he was fairly strong, they slipped in his grasp. “How are you planning on checking those all out?”

“Jokes on you, my check-out limit has been upgraded because I’m a regular.”

“To 17? That’s too many. Too many books in general. Even for your ADHD brain.”

She glared at him. “Well, that’s where you come into play. With your card, we can check out 15. And for the other two, I’ll just have to sweet talk my way through.”

“You’re impossible, Enola.” Sherlock rolled his eyes as he followed his younger sibling to the counter. 

“Shut up, It’s hard carrying enough character for Mycroft and you. You should thank me, really.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath and then he placed the books down with a thud.

Enola Smiled as she saw you approach the counter from the back office. Once you were here, the hot phase of her plan would be set in motion. And she couldn’t wait.

“Good evening, Enola. I see you brought someone new with you today?” You asked kindly with a bright smile on your face. Most people that came into the library didn’t talk much, but ever since Enola came around, she made the day a whole lot better. She grew to be a friend to you, which was why you also already knew who the handsome ‘stranger’ next to her was. But you wouldn’t reveal it just yet, that would be creepy.

“This is my Brother, Sherlock.” Enola just smiled as she placed her pile of books on the counter as well. 

“Nice to meet you,” the tall brunette smiled behind his glasses, soft curls falling into his face when he nodded toward you. 

“Nice to meet you, too. I would ask if you found everything you were looking for, but I guess it’s even more than that...” You counted the books, sending Enola a warning look. You had gone through the trouble of sweet-talking Old Mrs. Thomson if Enola could be an exception to the ‘only six books for home’ rule once again. Trying one more would get you on dusting duty for at least three weeks. 

Your eyes locked with Sherlocks. “Do you have a library card?” And then your attention was back to the register, typing away on the little blue display.

Sherlock couldn’t see what you were doing, but he knew he wanted your eyes back on him. He didn’t know why, there was something about you that made him all excited. “Why? Because you want to check me out?” Uh oh.

Your fingers stopped hacking away at the outdated machine and your eyes wandered back to him. A deep blush tinted his cheeks and ears pink as you tried to hold back the laugh pushing at your throat. 

Sherlock wanted the earth to swallow him whole. Why had he just said that? What was wrong with him? 

And while her brother desperately attempted to hide his shocked face, Enola just stood beside him, equally stunned. She hadn’t known it had gotten this bad. His constant isolation must have messed with his social competence somehow. Because whatever she was just witnessing, was beyond secondhand embarrassment. He made her job harder to bring the two of you together, and honestly, right now, Enola did not see a chance for her brother. 

“Yes, yes he has. Here!” Enola ripped the card from her brother's pocket and handed it to you. You, who bit your lips to hide the smile creeping on your features and shook your head. 

Sherlock didn’t say another word after that. Too embarrassed to ever talk again, really, he waited out the time until you were finished scanning all the books and his and Enola’s cards. Relief washed over him when you said your goodbyes. 

“I'm making an exception this time, Enola. Mrs. Thomson must not know about this and you better bring all of these books back without a single mark,” you warned.

But Enola countered weakly, matted by her idiot brother destroying the best plan ever made. “When did I ever not?” Still, she tried a sneaky smile on her lips.

When the doors fell close behind them and the siblings walked along the sidewalk home, Enola shoved her brother harshly. 

“Great job, you idiot. You just ruined your only chance at not becoming a weird and bitter old man.”

But Sherlock didn’t answer. He was well aware of the embarrassment he had just presented himself as in that library and in front of you. With his head hung low, he opened the top book in his arms to retrieve his library card, but when he moved the piece of plastic and revealed the check-out receipt, all of his sister’s bickering moved to the background. 

There, beneath the date and time of his visit, was your number, scribbled in blue ink with a small heart by your name. He smiled to himself as he traced the number with his finger. And just then, Enola glanced over his shoulder to find out why he hadn't told her to shut up yet. 

Who would have thought that you would be hooked after a line like that?

Tags: @circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @misshale21 @wattpaduser200 @mi-amoree1111 @xxinvisiblexx @lastwandastan @when-you-cant-think-of-anything @pevensiemadness @mrsgweasley

[elvestoneanzelote1]

A:n- 𝘴𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘴𝘰...

𝘌𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦.

𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 from 𝘰𝘧 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥𝘴

(Slight yan) Sherlock Holmes x male reader

.

.

.

.

It wasn't the fact you were too quiet. No, he is fine with people been quiet.

And there are many artist.

Illustration, architect, and... Good in chemistry and painters.

Nor he should bother himself to name all of them.

But something was different about you.

You have knowledge he knows but you pretend you aren't compatible in intellect.

He doesn't get you at all.

Not even one bit.

He doesn't.

Perhaps he was annoying you often.

Perhaps...

But you don't seem to bother much so it's fine right?

Confining yourself in the room he had to unlock it because you make Miss Husson worry perhaps... Even him.

Friends... Were you even his friends can you both call each other that? He wonders.

People will lose interest in silent people who barely talks but he couldn't.

He never understands you or perhaps he does but never really takes into consideration that he may over bothering you.

Right...?

You were so unbothered... So blank with poker face of sort.

Not even a smile.

And the fact he gets annoyed that you can't even draw him unlike how you drew the others.

He wonders why you often hang out with Madeline either.

Yes she is pretty but isn't she overbearing sometimes? Like often hog your attentions?

Hugging you as if you both are couples.

Trying to swoon you with her smile and.. And.. He doesn't know why.

He felt irritated that you never told her to keep distance but to him.

Hey both of you were boys either way it wouldn't bother you to hug you... Will it?

Even John and you hang out quiet well.

you spoke more with John than... Him.

And whatever he does it never... Get your attention.

Like... He never caught your attention.

He doesn't know why he is feeling this way.

Frustrated he was and annoyed.

But... He just want to hug you is it... Weird?

Or will it bother you if lean closer to you more?

I mean... Okay you are irritated by the cigarette smell... Which he try not to smoke often around you.

He doesn't understand you at all.

He felt his mind been consume constantly... By either the case he should do as a detective or... Try to...

Why were you so... Difficult.

His brother said women's are hard to tell but for him it was you.

He... Just want to see... Your smile.

Once.

That's all he ask.

And perhaps... He will crack you open more.

He doesn't understand why you talk to William well too.

Like you both knew each other well.

He knows Liam also is interested on you.

He is too he admit.

You were strange.

But perhaps that's the strange thing he find himself lured to you.

.

.

.

.

But he isn't going to ignore some who try to break your boundaries.

Clients or not if they make you uncomfortable to even approach him he will make sure they won't come again.

No no he won't resort to anything threatening yet. if the person knows and backs away.

Is it wrong to get know something that perk your interest no right?

After all... You and him are not far of to get to know each other more and more.

And perhaps... Something more.

After all... He can let himself be slight greedy can he?

He doesn't know... And he will try to know.

Whatever is it about you that make him feel so connected and lured he will... Find it.

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A:n- that's all take care good day/night to all

[gatutor]

Luree Holmes (Low Angeles, Californa, 24/04/1942).

[toastsrambles]

moriarty the patriot part two c plot wherein john enters a writer feud with erik weisz, author of the beloved harry houdini stories, in which harry houdini, illusionist turned private eye, investigates supposedly supernatural incidents and proves that they are, in fact, ordinary crimes. their feud gets so bad that they each write each other into their stories (derogatory), which only serves to unite their fanbases. soon, people are clamoring for holmes and houdini to solve a case together.

this escalates to the point of weisz throwing a false séance, luring watson there, and trying to kill him. a leather bound copy of the adventures of sherlock holmes falls on his head and kills him. watson pens ‘sherlock holmes and the case of the authors death’ where the great sherlock holmes determines that this case is supernatural, and even mr harry houdini himself wouldn’t be able to say otherwise.

all of this is never plot relevant, of course. this is the only time john shows up in the whole story.

[vindicated-truth]

Replying to @stars-after-dark's tags on my post here because again, with my rambling, I'm pretty sure the reply function won't have enough space 😅

In any case, I'll be explaining the "sting operation" subplot here in case anyone also needs to understand better. (If anyone also wants to add to or correct anything, please also feel free!)

It's important to note that Joowon was in Busan not because he was following Kang Jinmook's foosteps. That was what Dongsik did. They just happen to end up on the same path, like they always do.

What Joowon was following up on in Busan was in fact a case that happened 6 years ago, even before he even met Dongsik. Lee Geumhwa was caught on a police crackdown on prostitution in Busan, and she was forced to leave the country. She re-entered Korea illegally using her sister's passport, and that's how she came upon Joowon's radar at Foreign Affairs.

What was of particular interest to Joowon was that all the prostitutes Lee Geumhwa was associated with back then—Jin Hwalim, Wi Sunhui, Yeo Chunok, and Yoon Mihye—had all went missing without a trace. He knew that Lee Geumhwa must be connected to all of these disappearances, and he was determined to find out why.

More than that, he was determined to prove his seniors at Foreign Affairs wrong. They chanced upon the cases of these prostitutes through investigating a voice phishing case, and they dismissed it as the workings of a Chinese gang.

There's an inherent racism, xenophobia, sinophobia, and misogyny in the way Foreign Affairs treated their cases, and while Joowon had many, many faults as a character—his blithe arrogance being one of them—he cannot be faulted for refusing to let any of these prejudices deter him from finding out the truth, and later on, for bringing justice to the death of a victim the system would set aside for being Chinese, an illegal immigrant, a prostitute, and a woman.

As a longtime Sherlock Holmes fan, Joowon reminds me so much of the character too: arrogant and unheeding of social norms, uncaring of what people thought about him because he's always right anyway.

And the thing is, regardless of how people often rag on Joowon's decisions, he was right, and he was logical in the steps he took.

He looked at the bodies of Jin Hwalim, Yeo Chunok, and Wi Sunhui—the file of whom he managed to convince Kwon Hyeok to reveal to him—and saw that the killer had the same modus operandi for all of them: all 10 fingers cut off, both feet wrapped neatly inside a garbage bag and tied with a bow.

So he did his research to try and find out if there was any other case with a similar modus operandi, and lo and behold, he found it: Bang Juseon's case in Manyang, 20 years ago.

And who was the primary suspect who was never convicted? None other than Lee Dongsik.

The only woman left alive in the victims' circle was Lee Geumhwa. (At this point, Yoon Mihye was still missing, which he discovered later on with Dongsik in Busan had already died due to a car accident.) She was the only link left to solve the case, so Joowon blackmailed her, threatening to reveal her illegal status and have her deported, and sent her to Manyang to lure in Lee Dongsik—not knowing that Joowon just pushed her even closer to Kang Jinmook's eagerly waiting trap.

And then she went missing, with the last text she sent him being a series of "1's"—which was what Joowon instructed her to text him if she indeed found Lee Dongsik.

This, of course, was what led him to believe even further that Dongsik was indeed the killer—because of Lee Geumhwa's misinterpretation of what she was supposed to tell him.

She disappeared in March of 2020, and because Joowon couldn't contact her anymore, and her body wasn't turning up anywere else either, Joowon knew that she was officially missing and that it was his fault, his arrogance that led him to believe he could save her in time if she had alerted him.

It's why 7 months later on October 2020, much to the surprise of everyone in Foreign Affairs and especially of Han Kihwan himself, Joowon got himself transferred to Manyang as soon as he saw that Nam Sangbae had requested for additional officers, and saw his opening to finally bring justice to Lee Geumhwa and own up to his accountability if anything had indeed happened to her.

Joowon, thoroughly believing Lee Geumhwa's last message to him, already had the mindset of Lee Dongsik as the killer, and he had set foot there trying to gather evidence that he was.

And it certainly didn't help that one of Dongsik's first statements to him was: "I killed Bang Hocheol's daughter."

Joowon may have had a lot of missteps in Manyang, but to be honest, Dongsik had also made it hard for him, deliberately misleading Joowon several times, because Dongsik was also operating under the assumption that Joowon must have been connected to the killer, because he realized that Joowon recognized Lee Geumhwa's body when they discovered it together at the reed field.

That's what made Dongsik's hackles rise as well: because here was the son of the former Munju chief who dismissed his sister's death as a cold case, so Joowon must have covering up for it too, because this arrogant prince knew the body but wouldn't admit to it.

Essentially, Dongsik was also working under the assumption that Joowon was a suspect—he may not have been the killer, because he was just 7 years old at the time of Lee Yuyeon's death, but the fact that Joowon was the son of Han Kihwan and apparently also personally knew this new victim, meant that he was covering up for her death too: just like his father.

How wrong both of them turned out to be in the end. About the cases, and especially about each other.

(On a personal note, it's why I do find it somewhat unfair sometimes how Joowon gets the short end of the stick in being made fun of for making "stupid" assumptions and decisions, because the thing is, even in this, he and Dongsik were in it together.

Dongsik was making "stupid" assumptions and decisions along with Joowon too—because of what he also wrongly believed about Joowon.

They actually made clever deductions about each other based on the only information they had, which is why the growth they had as partners were parallel too—because they've come to realize that the evidence they were basing their assumptions on were both wrong, through no fault of their own. There were simply too many monsters at play that tampered with the evidence.)

Lastly, what I feel is most important to note here: Joowon wouldn’t have had to resort to a sting operation if only his superiors at Foreign Affairs believed him when he brought it all up, and not dismissed him as someone merely trying to climb up the ranks, nor be blinded by all the prejudice Joowon was so fiercely fighting against.

He was right. And they should have listened.

[amypihcs]

Extracorporeal Experience Thursday GO

Alright humans of all sorts, we're at chapter 3, let's see what's going on!

Well, AND FOR GOOD RE- Holmes? Why is that man vibrating in excitement?

Oh well, Holmes always was a rather queer fellow. NOW MORTIMER! Answer my quiz!

Oh yeah so... big doggo?

yep. big-big doggo.

HOLMES! Don't be so very interested, snap out of the case, remember social niceties. Geez, next time you'll tell a poor chap accused of murder that his situation is 'so very gratifying', AH!

Holmes SO WANTS to study Mortimer under a microscope!

And drama, of course comes natural to such a man as he is.

So, do we call the Mistery Inc or are we able to pull it off? even if Mortimer is thinking oh-so-loudly that it's demonic stuff?

... you are not a modest man, we know, and we know the reasons. BUT GOD'S SAKE HOLMES!

This man's hilarious, i SWEAR. BUT HE'S NOT A GHOSTBUSTER! so

How can Holmes be of help? Man likes the case!

Allow an italian a moment to bemoan out lack of punctuality in public transport... And back online! Some gossip and inheritance-legal stuff follows, family lines and so on...

HOLMES! Have a care!

You can't just go on dismissing the man's worries this way, god's sake!

But the local devil's terribly funny to think about, lol.

See? Mortimer got QUITE a bit distressed by that!

W: Don't worry, Dr Mortimer, he's just like this, but he does care.

NOW you've got your job, Mortimer, (shirtcuff note mention), Leave. Me. To. Mine. -cackles madly-

You're going out John?

Now. Holmes is already vibrating from happy case chemicals, And has asked very prettily his Watson for some tobacco. For FAR TOO MUCH tobacco.

H: You'll be out all day, dear? Have fun, we'll compare notes later. W: Sure. Have fun too, darling.

You leave your husband with a 'i love you' and you're sure to return to a livable house, of course. And then...

COUGH COUGH COUGH HOLMES!!!

Always like this! It's INTOLERABLE! DON'T YOU TRY THAT!

H: -deductions- W: DON'T. I'm trying to be annoyed at you. -kissy- Insufferable. H. Deduce me now, Watson?

Okay, i don't want to know or even imagine what sort of cocktail of drugs was in Holmes' bloodstream. Sure too much nicotine and caffeine.

He vibrated himself to Devonshire and back. Alright. So normal.

Just as much as this super normal cat behavior. Another couple of years and he'll buy a trunk to think into it. And poor Watson will have to lure him out of that.

Also, it's not concentration, Holmes. It's carbon dioxide intoxication.

I don't want to think to the desperate scream of his joints either, as a person who often keeps the same cross-legged positions for hours on end as they study.

NOW WATSON. What are your own thoughts about the case?

Well well... Interesting thoughts Holmes... Very interesting.

But now, Watson, let's take this out of our heads! -Watson is discreetly re-opening the windows- First a serenade... and then Will you help a detective to have no thought at all?

We'll know of the conversation with Sir Henry in the next episode! And remember the yaoi goggles!

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Heartbreaking Lure

“Are you ready, John?” Sherlock shouts from the bedroom.

“Probably not,” John mutters under his breath.

“Sure,” he says out loud.

John must blink several times when his so-called boyfriend appears in the doorway. If he hadn’t been so familiar with Sherlock’s body and demeanour, John wouldn’t have recognised him. Sherlock looks like someone taken out of the hippie era. A golden-haired wig, long and wavy. He has a cerise coloured hairband across his forehead. The shirt is a loose-fitting thing in denim blue embroidered with yellow and red flowers. Low on his hips, a pair of tight white trousers cling to his muscular thighs and widen considerably just below his knees. Worn trainers complete the outfit.

“You don’t do things halfway, do you, love?” John says rhetorically and approaches the figure he almost can’t fathom is Sherlock Holmes.

Before John reaches him, Sherlock puts on a pair of round spectacles with red glasses, which hide those peculiar eyes of his. 

“You know my ways, John,” Sherlock purrs and pulls John in for a languid kiss.

“I do,” John confirms a bit out of breath after the lovely snog. “Now get your gorgeous arse moving, and I’ll see you later.”

John gives Sherlock’s arse cheeks a good squeeze to emphasise his words and Sherlock gives him a wink before bouncing down the stairs.

***

John feels utterly ridiculous when he’s dressed himself. It’s Sherlock who has bought the costume, and of course it reflects one of the many kinks of the detective. However foolish John feels dressed up as a sailor, he knows it’ll be worth it in the end.

The only way John can get Sherlock to attend a carnival, is for a case, like now. They are both undercover trying to catch the jewellery thief red-handed. 

When John arrives at the posh apartment in Mayfair, Sherlock’s nowhere to be seen.

Clueing for looks somewhere, John thinks to himself and chuckles. 

John’s disguise doesn’t stand out at all. There are all sorts of costumes, from the pompous Marie Antoinette figure to something reminiscent of Jean Valjean when he was imprisoned. A few hippies emerge from another room, but none of them is Sherlock.

John wanders around, his hands clasped on his back as if inspecting a regiment. 

Old habits die hard.

A murmur in his ear, startles him.

“As you were, sailor.”

“Git,” John hisses. “We don’t know each other, remember.”

Sherlock’s rumble is low and makes John’s knees weak with desire. The power Sherlock’s voice has over him should be alarming, but the feeling is far too delicious to fight. 

“The library in five minutes. Second door to the right,” Sherlock whispers and gives John’ earlobe a lick before he’s gone.

John takes a deep breath and steels himself for the confrontation that will happen in a few minutes.

***

“Stop laughing,” John complains when they’re back at Baker Street.

“But, darling, you look so sweet when you’re like this,” Sherlock explains, his voice filled to the brim with glee.

The confrontation had gone well, until the thief had tried to flee. John had tackled the woman, dressed as Zorro, in some sort of boudoir. She had been like an eel in John’s hands and had gotten a hold of a jar of glitter that she had thrusted at John. Sherlock and Lestrade came to his rescue, but the glitter stuck to John’s face, neck, hair and hands.

“I’m taking a shower!” John exclaims while Sherlock still shakes with laughter.

“Jo…John, don…don’t be upset. You look ador…”

“Shut it, Sherlock! Not funny anymore,” John spits and marches to the bathroom.

It takes forever to get rid of all the twinkly bits, and John’s mood has not improved. When he finally turns off the shower, he hears familiar music being played in the sitting room. It’s something John always describes as a heartbreaking lure. “In the Cluster Blues”. One of his favourites, and Sherlock’s way of apologising.

John smiles, his mood suddenly lightening, something only one person in the world is able to make happen so quickly. His beloved Sherlock Holmes.

@flashfictionfridayofficial @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @calaisreno @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @helloliriels @safedistancefrombeingsmart @gregorovitchworld @peanitbear @topsyturvy-turtely @raina-at @7-percent @ninasnakie

[girlwithhat]

Well, as I've previously mentioned, I've been really into Geoffrey Whitehead Holmes and Donald Pickering Watson lately so...here's a fic. Dedicated to @aregularirregular221b whose enthusiasm for this series motivated me to finish.

TITLE: Shaken

SUMMARY: After the killer is arrested, Holmes reveals the conclusion of the case affected him more than he would care to admit. Watson reassures him.

NOTES: Occurs at the end of "The Case of the Blind Man's Bluff" after the killer is arrested and before the end cap scene the next morning.

Inspired by Watson immediately crossing the room and invading Holmes' personal space.

Holmes was keenly aware of Watson’s sweeping gaze on him as the killer was being taken into custody by Lestrade. The doctor had stepped closer than usual to assess him for any injuries or discomfort. This uncharacteristic invasion of personal space was no doubt a manifestation of his worry after seeing him being threatened with a sword cane. Seeking to calm himself after that emotionally charged confession and a successful conclusion to the case, he reached for his pipe and put it in his mouth. They both glanced at the chicken claw tied with black ribbon on the late Captain Pitt’s desk before leaving the room.

Once they were alone in the hansom back to Baker Street, Watson gave him another once-over.

“Holmes, are you alright?”

“Yes, Watson, quite.”

“He had a sword cane pointed at you when we came in. He could have--”

“I know. But I don’t believe he would have stabbed me.”

“He was desperate to keep his secret so he could continue on his path of revenge. Why wouldn’t he have killed you?”

“If you were in that position, would you have?”

“It’s difficult to say. Irrational actions would seem rational to an already addled mind.”

“He wasn’t addled. This entire ruse was cooly calculated: getting a crew list and tracking them down, entering rooms under false pretenses, pretending to be blind to lure his victims into a false sense of security. Oh no, Watson. He was rational, clear headed, and focused on his goal. Unfortunately, his thirst for revenge would never be satisfied, even if he killed every crewmember of The Gloria North.”

“But that adds to the argument that he would have stabbed you since you were in his way. You knew too much.”

“When we were alone, he was hoping I would understand and sympathize, that I would let him go. I disappointed him when he found out I believed one man cannot be judge and executioner, justified as he may be.”

“You believe he was justified in killing four men?”

“From his point of view. His wife and child, whose ends came too soon and so brutally, for strangers that were either directly or indirectly involved in their deaths. It could be seen that way.”

Arriving back at their rooms, Watson poured them each a brandy before settling in their chairs. With a sigh, Holmes found he couldn’t stop ruminating on the earlier confrontation.

“His eyes, Watson,” he said.

Watson took a sip of his drink. “What about them, Holmes?”

“The pain in them that would never be eased, caused by the unfairness of life through immense loss. An intense, irreplaceable love that can cause someone to lose their rationality. I may not have experienced that, but I do understand something of it.”

“You do?”

“I believe I do,” Holmes replied, studying the man across from him, “If something tragic and unfair had taken y--someone dearest to me, I would see revenge as a rational course of action. If it occurred while they were at my side, I wouldn't have let those responsible get out of the room alive. I can see the point of view of someone so fueled by anger and grief to seek retribution by any means.”

“At the expense of your morals?” Watson was surprised by the other man’s outburst of emotion and the ruthlessness he found there.

“A strong love is not always indicative of the purest morals.”

“That is true.” They were silent for some minutes before Watson spoke again, “In war, I’ve seen how unfair life and how senseless death can be. How it weighs on people. As a doctor, I don’t condone a death for a death but that is what justice demands under our laws.”

“As a doctor, could you kill in revenge?”

“Could I? I suppose anything is possible. But would I? In my rational mind, no. And I would hope that y--my beloved would know that my feelings, my love was still true, even if I could not bring myself to avenge them, should they come to harm.”

“They would certainly continue to admire you for being an upstanding gentleman and doctor. You are a much stronger and better man than I, dear Watson.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, Holmes.”

He looked down at his hands, which cradled his drink. “I was afraid tonight.”

“You were?”

“I was afraid you would arrive to find me dead.”

“But you said--”

“I didn’t want you to endure that. I didn’t believe he would kill me but for all the logic and empathy in the world, the unexpected can still occur and people’s actions can still be difficult to deduce.”

“Even for you?”

“Even for me. I can still make mistakes when compromised by emotions.”

Watson stood, taking their glasses and putting them on the table. “Emotions are not a detriment, Holmes.”

Holmes looked up. “I apologize if my mood has made you uncomfortable.”

“No, none of that,” Watson replied in a soothing tone as he helped Holmes out of his chair and pulled him close for an embrace. “You’re still shaken.”

Holmes closed his eyes for a few moments, syncing his breathing to the solidly steady and sure Watson.

“I don’t know why I’m so affected,” Holmes said, “I’ve been in perilous situations before.”

“It doesn’t matter. No one chooses what situations or people touch their hearts.”

“It took me by surprise,” Holmes replied as he cupped Watson’s face, “Just as you do.”

Watson smiled before their lips met gently. The doctor rested his hands on his friend’s slim hips. “I’m not surprised.”

“No?”

“I believe I knew before you. And may I make a bold deduction?”

“You may.”

“I deduce you want to kiss me again.”

Now it was Holmes' turn to smile. “That is true. What else can you deduce?”

“We should retire to my bedroom as I believe we’re suddenly feeling a bit warm in our clothes.”

The mischievous glint was back in Holmes’ eyes. “Excellent, doctor. I agree. Lead the way.”

END